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<Weston>

"No torch needed", he told Seyja, then demonstrated how to 'strike' it to light. "You want to wait until you are just about ready to throw. It will last a dozen seconds or so."

He had a thought. But not being magically inclined ... "Is there any way to 'retask' that trap so that it could catch the dragon?"

[Moved post to where it made more sense, updated for Weston's question.]

GM

Having prised the stone tablet loose from the ice then earth, D handled it like a palmful of quicksilver, moving it out of alignment. He knew that murderous magical forces balanced on it, a proverbial knife edge.

First the floor, then a second stone from the wall, this one he carefully rotated so that it was upside-down. The beaded sweat on his forehead felt icy cold.

Finally he stepped back and risked breathing normally. Possibly he and Tindarien nodded in agreement to each other? Once triggered, each pane of magical force would move in harmony with the other, preventing the crash from occurring.

Taking a terry-cloth from his pack, the dark elf twisted and flicked it across the passageway. There was a whoosh and shower of ice flakes. The terry-cloth was shredded but there was no grinding, screeching cacophony.

The trap would have hurt the dragon, certainly, but if you were to continue, it had to be disarmed and could not be reset. And of course, drawing the Beast's attention to the trap would mean you confronting it at the top of the mine shaft....

You would have to be careful, yes, but odds were that the way to the dragon's lair was now open and before you. This was it.

Tindarien

Once the trap has been disarmed, he nods to D, respecting his work. Always a good thing to leave your exit clear behind in case a quick retreat is required.

He settles Farvi deep in his pack giving him the best protection he can against the cold and hopefully putting himself between the dragon and his familiar.

He moves back again to clear the way for the melee fighters to lead and mentally prepares himself for the conflict ahead.

Jex
It was good to have people with different talents on this expedition to handle things like this. He was still singing his song in preparation for the battle that was coming.

He stays vigilant, keeping an eye out for hostiles while the drow worked on the trap.

Sergeant Almador

As the ferret bolted from the leg of his breaches, the Sergeant stifled a yelp. Its claws were like needles! At least it hadn't found reason to try out its teeth too.

Relief was tinged with embarrassment as he saw the creature scramble up Tindarien's leg and into the elf's backpack. The sorcerer's familiar, he should've guessed... he didn't need his mace quite yet.

One problem solved then, soon followed by another as D disarmed the magic trap.

Like that, the obstacles between the party and their confrontation with the dragon of winter's past suddenly disappeared. There was nothing now standing between them and the dreaded moment. The Beast awaited them no doubt, lying, coiled around their fate like a prize.

Staring down the icy tunnel, Almador's eyes boggled. The party's wavering light glinted off of the slick, undulating and creased surfaces. A tunnel of melted glass, darkness ahead, darkness behind. Had they wandered down the Beast's throat already?

The Sergeant grimaced and glanced at his companions' faces, looking for the strength he'd seen there so often the previous day. The draughts that howled along the passageway were chilling, but some how the greying man-at-arms felt only heat in his chest and neck.

Weston was a fine young fellow, the kind of man a father wished he could give his daughter's hand to and call son.

Tindarien had shown that elves could be friendly, approachable folk, even when embroiled with arcane magics. Almador felt comfortable in the sorcerer's presence.

He could not say he knew Seyja or Jex as well, but he thought he had seen their true nature in mourning Heilbutt. They were good at heart, despite their rough or rumbunctious appearance. Almador hoped that, if they returned, either he or his town could help Seyja, and he was excited by the prospect of the Jester of Drakkenhall staying the summer too.

D and Zoltan, however, were still a mystery to Almador. D was even more lost than the barbarian, and Zoltan seemed innately dangerous. Almador couldn't imagine inviting the dark elf to dinner for fear he'd be discomfitted, whereas he wouldn't invite the paladin to dinner, more out of concern for his daughter. According to the Captain, both Weston and Zoltan both served the same order, yet they were very different people as far as the Sergeant could tell.

But some things they all had in common. They stood firm and they stood together, they stood for right over wrong. These weren't the 'adventurers' that the Seneschal had thought they were. They were heroes, Sergeant Almador knew it... and right there and then, that, more than any other reason, was why Sergeant Almador didn't turn back, didn't run away from impending doom. They'd let him stand with them, and in their ranks he was fortified by their valour.

He cleared his throat.

"Sirs... fellows, if you would permit." He said, "I do not know how this will end, or whether I will ever see sunlight again.

"So I must speak now. I am bound to say the greatest honour of my life was my wife saying 'yes'... but were that not the case, it would be accompanying you on this quest. Whatever happens, I will rest easy at the darkening of the day, because now I know the legends are true. There are monsters, yes, but there are heroes too and the monsters should fear them."

<Weston>

He clapped the fellow on the back. "Well said", he said quietly. "But don't forget ... you are one of those heroes too."

Zoltan

As D finishes removing the trap and it becomes apparent they are about to enter the cave to confront the dragon, he pauses. Almador says his piece and he answers the man.

"It is an honor to fight with you, Sergeant. As well as all of you", he glances from one to the next. "I did not think I'd feel this way. Being alone has been both a curse and a cocoon. I have clung to it all my life in fear that were I to get too close to others I'd become dependent on them. Dependency is a weakness. That is what I'd always believed. Now, though, I am coming to think it might be a strength. Perhaps dying alone is not my destiny."

He glances once more around the circle, eyes coming to rest on D. "I do not know if you will ever find your past, my friend, but my hopes are with you. In the meantime, the man I see before me could not have been better in a prior life."

Seyja


Standing there with the others she'd learned to appreciate and even to care for, the barbarian woman checked the strip of matches attached to the improvised fire bomb. They seemed to retain their attachment... she should be able to strike them on the haft of her greataxe.

Seyja's eyes widened as she remembered the viol of enchanter's oil she had in her pack and she quickly pulled it out and applied the magic oil to the blade of her primary weapon.

If I ever am going to need the help, the time is now.

She looked around at the others, catching the eye of those she could and giving those a nod of encouragement. Tindarien was just beside her and she cocked her head to one side, giving the elf a long look. She then reached out and placed a hand on the sorcerer's forearm.

"I wanted you to know that I have never had much in the way of dealings with elvenkind and sorcerers, thinking them rude and aloof, but knowing you has improved my opinion muchly."

She smiled and nodded at him.

"Just wanted you to know."

Seyja wasn't one to pray, but she closed her eyes and murmured a brief, impassioned plea that she not die in this encounter... She could not afford to die, not until she had completed her mission to defeat the Orc Lord.

Then she opened her eyes and swept the assemblage.

"If I die in this attempt to save our friend, Nestaron, I would wish that one or more of you would attempt to go against the Orc Lord and his minions to repay him for what he has cost me."

She smiled then, almost savagely.

"I assure you I will not die easy... and if I do, it will be in the support of you... my friends."

<Weston>

He had been in 'dangerous situations' in the past. But those had mostly been 'thrust upon him'. In this case, he was walking into the dragon's den, as it were ... no, as it was!! They =WERE= planning to go and attack a dragon in its lair!! What was he =THINKING=? But he really =did= know the answer to that one. He was thinking that he had to do what he could to help the folk that lived in town ... the people being 'poisoned' by the dragon's blood, but more than that, what the dragon would do to the town's people if it were allowed to recover its strength.

He turned to his companion .. the person he had been commissioned to 'oversee'.

"Zoltan, I was asked to 'keep an eye' on you. It seemed that the powers that be were concerned about you. I can only say that I think their concern is groundless. I have to say that I found you to be a most worthy companion. What ever the outcome, it has been my honor to travel with you."

D

The pale dark elf looked around. He hadn't anticipated this moment any where along the journey. It had been coming, he now realized. But for his myopic vision, he hadn't prepared for it. But then what had he prepared for in his recent days?

He looked around the circle, before they literally and figuratively headed into the maw. A dragon, that was something that he hadn't planned on either. What exactly did his patrons have in mind? Did they want the dragon dead? If so why? He couldn't fault them, certainly he wanted the horrid beast gone, but it did make him wonder about his being a pawn in their schemes.

"I for one am surprised that I stand here. When I started on this journey, I hadn't anticipated having company, nor the scope of such an undertaking. I am glad to have met you and fought beside you. I wish I knew the bigger plan for me, and what it was that I was brought back for. Yet I am sure in time I will learn." He shrugged "or not."

"Jex I enjoy your ability to bring a song to my desiccated heart. Your wit and melodies bring humor into dark places, and for that, I thank you."

To Zoltan he offers a respectful nod. He was honored to serve with him as well, regardless of what might have happened in a previous life.

Tindarien

He looks up as the others speak, taking a last opportunity before they enter battle, one which might be their last. And he smiles when Seyja speaks to him directly.

"Then I have already achieved more than I thought."

He looks around the whole group.

"I made an offer to Zoltan on the ship, an offer to join a group I am thinking of forming. My parents died when I was only a babe. I wish I had known them, known more of their lives but that was not to be. I follow in their footsteps though in seeking out the undead, the evil that preys on others. If we survive and any of you have no other specific calling, I would be proud to extend that invitation to all of you. You too Sergeant."

He turns to Weston, regarding the man and not forgetting that it was his quick thinking and quick reactions, his ability to put other's safety before his own, demonstrated many times but never so directly as when his hand grabbed Tindarien from the brink of death.

"Thank you for saving my life back there." He says quietly. "And thank you to everyone. We have gotten this far by working together. Let us end this chapter in the same vein."

Jex

"You are welcome, D. But know that I get satisfaction every time I see you smile, and I think I've seen a smirk or two from you."

"I want to know for sure how and why the water has been poisoned. To what end was it done? Answering the 'why' question is most important because understanding that will help me write a song to make sure people learn how to prevent something like this from happening again."

He turns to Seyja to his right and smiles at the barbarian, "You are the toughest lady I have ever met and while you might not think it, you are more woman than most. You have protected us like a bear mother protects her cubs. You are strong and are beautiful inside and out. You swing you sword with the grace of a dancer."

Bearkiller

He sensed gravitas, though he didn't know what that word meant. His mohawk quivered in the chill breeze and his eyes posture was highly alert, like some forest animal.

What awaited him was vengeance. It could not be called justice until his tribe's sacred relic was returned. While other minds were focused on the dragon, his was bent on a knight errant.

Bearkiller turned and spoke to the empty air beside him.

"You are finest of hunter, He Who Sicks Balls. Now is time for kill." He glanced at the bard, "After Bodejacker done."

Sergeant Almador

This party were a fine bunch. He had more confidence in them than he had in his own town guard. He nodded in appreciation to Weston and Zoltan, and for a fleeting moment he wondered what it would be like to carry the badge of the Order of Averness, to be a monster hunter.

His teeth were chattering but it was cold. He had to admit, he looked forward to fighting if it would warm him up. He was Rosencliff born and bred, winters were mild. This deep freeze was unnatural and new to him and he did not like it!

Sergeant Almador was humbled by Tindarien's offer, but whatever bravery the old guard had mustered up to now, he wasn't sure it would last long in inclement weather.

Deliberately, the man-at-arms unlooped the lanyard of his mace, put his hand through it and gripped the handle. Nodding to himself now, he breathed out a cloud of thin mist in the cold air.

Seyja


Seyja scowled at Jex for a moment, but then she couldn't resist his charm, humor and compliments. She smiled and then laughed.

"You are a noisy little man, but let no one say you are not a friend of mine and a man of rare wit and wisdom... at least as far as women go."

She winked at him and then turned back to applying the enchanter's oil to her greataxe.

You swing your sword like a dancer she thought with a snort and a brief chuckle.

Now what did he mean by that?

GM

Seyja's axehead soaked up the enchanter's oil like a sponge and took on a faint, eerie glow. Blue, not unlike the rune that now burned on Weston's blade. He was left with a lump of inert orium in his hand that crumbled into dust. Both weapons felt lighter in the hand.

There had to be a story behind how Weston had acquired a magic rune but it would have to wait. Nevertheless, Tindarien might be reminded that he was carrying valuable orium ore in his pack. The next time he was in one of the Seven Cities, the sorcerer could off-load it for profit or get some runes crafted of his own. (Farvi would be glad to be rid of it; the ore intruded on the ferret's nesting space.)

For now, the party had done what it could in preparation. The fire bomb probably hung from a cord around Seyja's shoulder, so once lit she could whirl it like a sling.

D, Jex, Seyja, Tindarien, Weston and Zoltan. They stood in the light of the mining lamps, together with Bearkiller and Sergeant Almador. The words were said, the looks exchanged.

Onwards!

[Weston's longsword also gains a reroll of one missed attack in the next battle.]

[[Go to HHE13: The Ice Chamber]]