Here, there be Dragons

"There is a dragon approaching us." Merus announced matter-of-factly.  "A large one. Flying down the road, close to the earth, moving at a great speed. It is relatively close." She lowered the hand that she had been using to shield her eyes from the tropical sun and unlimbered her great bow.

"It means to attack" she continued coolly. "Prepare yourself."

As an afterthought, almost as an apology she added "It must have hid itself in the rainclouds as it approached, allowing it to come upon us unawares."

For a moment the party was gape mouthed, stunned at the news. Dragons were passing rare in The Thousand Isles, and also back in Valoria for that matter. The stuff of legend. None of them had ever actually laid eyes on one. Wyverns sure, Wyverns were common in the higher peaks of the Isles as well as in the Erinthor Mountains east of Valoria. But a real dragon....

"Are you sure it's an actual dragon?" Dakhir questioned. The Elven Ranger didn't didn't even dignify the question with a response, giving the Warlock an exasperated look.     

The party was marching in formation down the wide road that led from what had once been the coastal village of Potsio to, supposedly, the lost mine of Cerro Rico up in the mountains. Originally the road had led through dense jungle, but a few hours ago, as it rose into the central highlands, the vegetation had become increasingly arid, transforming from savanna to grasslands to scrub with a bewildering speed.  Now, they were crossing what appeared to be an old lava flow, a boulder field essentially. An unimaginably huge torrent of lava must have flowed down from the mountain in prehistoric times, long cooled, leaving behind a tumbled expanse of grey volcanic stones, most no larger then human skull. The wide road cut right through the center of the field.

 

Merus noticed Dakhir's eyes sweeping over the expanse of rubble and discerned his thoughts. She nodded in silent agreement. "The worm picked an excellent spot for its ambush. Very little cover, limited mobility. It means to burn us down, on the road"

"SCATTER!" Dakhir screamed. "Off the road! Beware the dragon breath!"

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They had of course discussed the possibility of a dragon, along with many other possibilities, during the long voyage to Cerro Rico. The information on whatever disaster had befallen the mine was so scanty it was all just guesses and speculation. They had hoped to gather intel at the merfolk settlement closer to the island.  Those hopes were quickly dashed however. The small merfolk town was found easily enough, but it had been utterly destroyed. 

Tello looked up from where he was dissecting one of the merfolk corpses. The deck of the Lady Jezebel where the Tortle was working was awash with blood and other fluids, a fact that seemed to bother the Artificer not at all.

"She's been dead no more then three or four days" he announced. "And look here, across her back." He carefully rolled the corpse over. Three sucker marks the size of a dinner plates marked her upper torso."

"Kraken" hissed Ricmo.  "It must have gotten ahead of us somehow! But how did it know where we were going?"

"Our course has been constant, the winds have been favorable, it would be easy enough if the beast was spying on us, for it to discern our heading." Tello pointed out. 

"And so we bring destruction wherever we go" Whisperleaf mourned. "We really must deal with that foul creature, once and for all." For a moment the party looked down on the body of the young mermaid. She couldn't have been more then twenty in human years. The rictus of terror was still visible on her pale, dead face. 

Whisperleaf bent down and gathered the slim form up in his arms, also untroubled by the smell of decay. "From the sea you came, and to the sea you shall return, my sister. I wish you better fortune in the next life." Humming an ancient elven hymn, he gently released the body over the gunwale where it vanished under the wave with barely a splash."

"Mithras watch over your soul" Raidant echoed, making the sign of his church. Subdued, the companions returned to their task, but deep inside them all, a steel conviction was growing. This had to end. And soon.

The directions given by the merfolk of the pyramid proved accurate. The island was exactly where they had said it would be.

As The Lady Jezebel sailed closer to the shore of the lush, tropical island, the variety of vegetation and climate, found in even the smaller of the Thousand Islands, was on full display. Tello claimed this had to do with the way the predictable path of rain was channeled and shadowed by the geographical features of the islands. As they sailed south, tracing the eastern coastline, dense jungle hugged the shoreline. However as the land rose inland, the mountains appeared relatively arid, laying as they did in the rain-shadow of still higher peaks that blocked the monsoon rains.

The small port town they were seeking allegedly lay near the southeastern cape of the isle, and eventually Merus, from her perch high in the mast, called out a sighting of a huddle of ruined buildings on the shores of a wide lagoon.

Ricmo ordered the ship to heave-to and got out his spy glass, handing it around to the officers clustered on the quarterdeck. 

"Reef offshore" Blue Archie (who was relatively sober for once) pointed out. "See the white line of the surf breaking? A bit submerged in this tide, but extensive. And dangerous. Not sure how to get past. But judging from those shipwrecks in the lagoon there must be a way."   

Archie pointed at the drunkenly leaning masts of several shipwrecks, barely visible inside the lagoon.

The sources the Jezebels had interrogated back at Puerto Lejos had claimed the mine of Cerro Ricco was located miles inland, up in the arid highlands. This coastal town, called Potsio, was allegedly only the gateway to the lost mine. A careful scan with the spyglass revealed evidence of this, in the sliver of a road winding from the town up into the mountains. The road disappeared as it entered the jungle, but later reappeared, rising high above the jungle, winding like a silver thread into the dry scrub of the central highlands.

"From the crows nest, the town appears entirely abandoned, and for quite some time." Merus reported, as she descended with catlike grace from her perch. "There are signs of battle. And fire. But the signs are old. Whatever befell this town happened years ago."

"Seems like the next step is to go ashore and investigate." Dakhir offered. "See if we can find evidence of what destroyed it, search for survivors?"

"To do that we need to get past the reef". Ricmo replied. "We don't have a very safe anchorage this far offshore, it's actually a little dangerous. Blue Archie nodded. "Aye, if a storm blew up from the east it could easily dash the ship on yon reef. We are too deep here for the anchors to bite."

"I will find a way through" Tello announced tranquilly. He kicked off his toolbelt, handed his lantern topped staff to Whisperleaf, and smoothly dove over the side of the ship and into the water. 

"Most of the time I forget he's amphibious" Dakhir chuckled to Whisperleaf. "Aye, this kind of coastal, reef ecosystem is his native habitat" Whisperleaf agreed. "I was thinking of shapechanging into something but this is better." The companions settled in to wait the Artificer's return. 

Tello found the water pleasantly warm, the reef colorful, he and quite enjoyed the swim. His powerful frame shot through the water surprisingly fast, as he skimmed the ocean face of the reef, startling colorful schools of fish, and dodging in and out of swaying kelp stands. He paralleled the reef for several leagues, only occasionally surfacing to breathe, and eventually he found an opening.

"A large channel to the south of here" he reported back, pulling himself over the gunwale of the ship. "The channel is wide, and deep enough for even such a large ship as the Lady Jezebel. Rounding the headland to the south of the town will require some tricky sailing though, and it is already growing dark. Perhaps we should wait for the morrow?"

Ricmo turned to Whisperleaf. "What does the weather look like tomorrow?" he asked.

Whisperleaf nodded, and produce a small, leather bag from somewhere under his robes. He knelt down on the deck, chanted a brief spell and then opened the drawstring of the bag and emptied a dozen tiny bones onto to the deck. He studied them for a few seconds.

"Rain off and on, fog in the morning. The storm will clear in the afternoon before returning, probably around sunset" he announced. 

"Well, that's not good." Ricmo complained. "Can we make it in tonight?"

They all turned to look at Blue Archie, who considered the situation for a moment, humming tunelessly to himself.

"Aye, I think so, provided we step lively an' don't dawdle" Blue Archie finally replied decisively. "We ha' a few hours o' daylight left, the wind be favorable, the tide be rising, which helps us, and it didnae sound like more than a league or two from here to the gap in the reef, at least how yon Turtle described it." Tello nodded. "A little over one league” he agreed. 

"Make sail! With all speed! Step lively now!" Ricmo barked and the ship exploded into activity.

 

The Lady Jezebel exited the gap between the headland and the reef with the glow of the setting sun washing across her deck, and a light southeasterly wind billowing in her sails. As she glided into calm protected waters, the wide lagoon opening up before her, the crew collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

"Captain's luck held up again." Ricmo heard one of the Masriqi chuckle under his breath, a wide smile breaking across his bearded face. 

"Well that was a wee bit tense there fer a spell or two, but we made it, by the gods! Good sailing all. Nice job Sturg." Blue Archie patted the black armored helmsmen on the shoulder as The Sturg stood silently at his post, effortlessly guiding the great wheel. "And now, I need a drink." Blue Archie announced cheerfully, heading toward the stairs below deck. 

"A drink or six" Ricmo thought to himself as he carefully pried his white knuckled grip off the the gunwale. "Hope we don't need him tomorrow." The Tortle had instructed them that the water was deepest near the headland which had meant the Lady J  had, at times, needed to sail perilously close to the cliff face. At one point the halfling had reached out and touched the lichen encrusted rock wall gliding by them. It had been nerve wracking, a sudden change in the wind's directions could well have ruined them. The wind had held though, thank the stars, and now they were through the gauntlet.

Tello smiled at him. The Tortle had seemingly thoroughly enjoyed the whole transit. "The best place to anchor is near the ruined ships" he offered. "The lagoon is deepest there, though the tide is high now, most of this will become too shallow to navigate at low tide. 

Ricmo nodded. "Lets drop anchor next to that ruined galleon. We'll wait out the night here and go ashore tomorrow." 

The night passed uneventfully and, as promised, the morning brought drizzle and low hanging mist. The heroes took a jollyboat from the Lady Jezebel, across the shallow, calm waters of the lagoon, to the town. The destroyed town was eerie as it gradually emerged out of the mist, dimly illuminated in the early morning sunlight, silent except for the sound of jungle birds and the occasionally hoot of monkeys calling out to one another. 

Tello took in the destruction with a frown as the party made their way through the small village toward the jungle edge. "No more then a few hundred houses" he observed to the others. "Nowhere near enough to house a workforce such as our sources described. Most of the miners must have lived somewhere else, probably within closer proximity to the mine, or even within the mine itself."

Ricmo nodded. "That makes sense, it's supposedly fifteen leagues up that road to the mine." Ricmo pointed to a broad paved road leaving the village, plunging into the jungle. 

"The pattern of devastation is very confusing" Tello observed as he knelt down and examined a pile of burned timbers that lay astride the wide road. "Here we have evidence the road into the village was barricaded and a vigorous defense was mounted. Many signs of battle, fire. But no corpses? This position was eventually overwhelmed, so who buried the dead? Perhaps the attackers were thrown back eventually? But if so, where are the survivors? And who attacked them? Quite a riddle."

"This town may be only a few hundred buildings but to properly search it will take considerable time" Ricmo noted. "Still, it's worth it, we don't want to stick our head into the lions den without knowing what kind of lion we are dealing with." The others nodded. 

The party spread out, splitting in to two groups, going house by house, though taking care to remain within ear shot of one another at all times.

"Fascinating" Tello called out, bringing attention to where he was investigating the skeleton of a charred building that had once been an inn. "The spread of the fire is for the most part easily explained, it started at the barricade into town and then advanced down both sides of the main street, cumulating in the large wooden blockhouse near the harbor. There are signs of battle all up and down this street, it would appear the defenders were pushed back and back and the attackers burned the town as they came. But THIS building, was several hundred yards from that path. And the fire here appears to have started from the roof, not the street level."

Merus, who had been listening intently to the Tortle, suddenly held up her hand in the sign for quiet. She listened for a moment, then darted up the half burned stair case to the second floor of the charred building. A moment later a shrill squeal came from above.

"Oi, wot the bleedin' hell?" a shrill voice squawked from above. "I ain't done nuffink, Lety go me ear." A moment later Merus reappered with a small boy in tow. 

The boy was young, no more than twelve years old, with a scrappy and unkempt appearance. His frame was scrawny and thin, wearing tattered clothing that was mostly far too large for him, his face smudged with dirt and grime, his hair a wild and tangled mess. Despite his obviously unkempt and desperate appearance, there was a spark of defiance in his eyes as he struggled in Merus' iron grip.

The ranger flashed the party an uncharacteristic grin. "Time for dinner." she announced gravely. The boy squealed again. "Yur not gonna et me, ya bastards!" he yelled, attempting to kick Merus in the shins. 

The boy (who's name was Jimmy Cudgel) wolfed down the food they gave him, clearly he had not been eating well for quite some time. In between bites they teased his story out of him. 

"I was going about me business when there comes a big old BOOM from way away toward the mine, so loud we could hear it all the way here. The earth done shook. We could see smoke and ash coming from the mountain. The townfolk got all riled up, said there musta been some kind accident at the mine and a bunch of the men and soldiers mounted up to go help. They rode away up the mine road and didn't come back. Or rather when they did come back they was ....wrong."

"Wrong?" interjected Dakhir. "How so?"

"We didn't see 'em for about a day or so, then there was another big explosion from the mountain, even bigger then the first. That was the last of them explosions, but the mountain kept a smoking, and the next night them folks that road way came stumbling back into town without their horses. They was all...wrong. Their skin was black and charred, so bad you could see the flesh flaking off and the bones through it. They was hot to the touch and things they touched burst into flames. They didn't talk much, a little to try to try to put people at ease, but pretty soon they gave up on that and just started killing and setting fire to the place."

"The town beat that first bunch back, but more kept coming, night after night, till the whole place was burnt up and everyone but me was dead. I managed to run into the jungle and hide from 'em but the others all got kilt."

Jimmy say back and belched. "That was some good pork and biscuits, I thank ye. Grub's been pretty hard to come by." 

"What about the ships?" Ricmo asked, absentmindedly shoveling more food on the child's plate "What happened to them?"

"They came sailing in here about a year or two after the town fell, and landed a bunch of men. I hid. Those men formed up and marched up to the mountain, musta been a hundred of them easy, with guns and swords, playing the pipes and drum, marching in formation. Maybe two hundred. Quite a pretty sight. Three days later they came back, just like the other ones did. All black and charred and dead. They made short work of the few soldiers they had left behind in the town, then quiet like, got into their longboats and rowed out to attack them ships in the harbor. Pretty soon them ships started burning."

That was about all they could get out of Jimmy. He had spent most of the last five years hiding in the jungle, with the occasional forays into town to scavenge supplies. He had lived wild and feral and had mostly focused on staying alive not gathering intelligence. 

"These creatures don't sound like anything I am familiar with" Whisperleaf grimaced. "Undead of some kind for certain, but more intelligent then most of the walked dead, and the fire is an odd touch."

Dakhir nodded. "I also am coming up blank. Some of it sounds a little like demonic possession, but I don't think that's it.  Clearly whoever or whatever raised them is the cause of the downfall of the town and the mine, though."

"Clearly that person, thing, or entity is sitting on my mithril. And my silver. So we need to deal with them." Ricmo announced.

Tello chimed in. "No evidence any of them have been to the town for several years however. Perhaps they are sleeping or dormant?"

"Then lets take care not to wake them. After all we didn't sail all this way to say 'oh that sounds scary' and go home." Ricmo grinned.

Around midmorning they set off in the drizzling rain. The road from the port town to the mine was surprisingly good. The Vetrini had clearly invested a lot in that road. It was paved in stone, ten feet across, well banked and drained, and ascended at a smooth grade. Even with years of neglect and the jungle eating away at the edges of it, it was still quite passable and they moved quickly up it. Good thing too, as the jungle was dense here and cutting their way through it would have been torturous. 

The road was well built but steep, it started climbing almost from the moment they set foot on it and just never stopped. The constant ascent was surprisingly tiring. As they rose into the central highlands, the vegetation became increasingly arid, transforming from savanna to grasslands to scrub with a bewildering speed.  Eventually they reached the old lava flow. 

And that was where the dragon fell upon them. 

"SCATTER!" Dakhir screamed. "Off the road! Beware the dragons breath!"

The Jezebels only froze in surprise for a second or so, then the started moving. While they had never faced a dragon before, they had stared down and defeated many a horror in their time. They moved, and they moved fast. In a desperate sprint, each hero ran toward the nearest edge of the road and into the boulder field. Each of them that is, with three exceptions.

The Sturg did not run. Dakhir hesitated a moment, as he watched his friend draw his sword and ready his shield. "Ok, big guy, so be it. Let me even the playing field a bit though." Arcane words tumbled from his lips and after a few seconds, the spell had its effect. The Sturg and Dakhir both rose into the air, hovering a few inches above the road.

"I'll cover you." Dakhir promised and then flew off into the boulder field, staying low, only a few inches above the rocky terrain. The Sturg nodded and rose to meet the dragon. And Radiant Lightbringer, raising his mace and bursting into white light, followed him as fast as he could run. The white light of Mithras spilled from Radiant like a wave, washing over his companions and bringing the god's blessing with it. 

Tello reached the edge of the boulder field. The footing was extremely treacherous and without the blessing of flight that Dakhir had, it was slow going. After moving a few feet off the road he stopped, judging based on the dragon's hurtling speed that he was out of time. He had no idea if the protective bubble he could summon from his carved shell would work against dragonfire, but it was worth a shot. He planted his feet, and summoned the bubble. As octarine light blossomed around him in a protective sphere, he unlimbered his heavy cannon from it's sling and place it on the ground. It promptly sprouted its tiny mechanical legs and shuffled around, aiming at the dragon. "Tortles aren’t the best at running, at least on land", Tello admitted to himself wryly. This was probably far enough. Tello prepared to make his stand.

Ricmo was jumping and running across the boulder field, a pistol in each hand, looking desperately for cover. There wasn't much to be found, most of the rocks weren't even knee high to a halfling. Eventually he found a largish shrub which at least offered some concealment. He crouched by the shrub and leveled his pistols at the rapidly approaching dragon. He was glad it wasn't raining and hoping he had kept his powder dry. 

Whisperleaf positioned himself off the right side of the road and watched as the dragon barreled down toward them. Ever since he had mastered the art of shapeshifting into flying forms he had discovered what a huge advantage flight was in combat. He didn't have any forms that could both fly and go toe to toe with a dragon. But he had friends that could fly. He uttered the arcane words that called on an ancient pact that had been struck a thousand years ago between his people and the raw elements of nature. And nature answered. The wind rose, swirling and taking on a vaguely cyclonical form It bowed to him, waiting his orders. 

  

Merus, at the rear of the party, danced across the road to the left. She was more a creature of the woods then the desert, but her movement still betrayed the grace inherent in her elven heritage, and she easily traversed the rocky field. She found a spot she liked, with firm footing, and unlimbered her great bow. 

Vermithor barreled down the road, great wings pumping the air, fire burning in his chest, the thrill of the chase thrumming through his blood. He watched the prey scatter, doubtless overcome with the Fear. Only a handful of them, far fewer then the veritable army he had destroyed in this very place three years ago. This would hardly even be a challenge. This would hardly be a snack. He was a bit disappointed that there weren't more of them, the enemy must have kept most of his strength back at his ship. 

No worry. He would take care of these morsels and then their ship would be next. Ships were dangerous and had to treated with respect, but they burned relatively easily, after all. He altered his course slightly, picking out a few of the panicked mice below him. He felt the flames rise in his breast and he BREATHED.       

"So, that's what dragon fire looks like, then." The Sturg had a moment to muse before the fire engulfed him. 

Overconfidence was always the downfall of the Red Dragon Flight. Arrogant in his power and assuming an easy victory, the dragon had taken few precautions other then to ensure a stealthy approach. And admittedly his sudden attack had almost carried the day. His first blast of fire was a searing and terrible thing for those caught in it's blast. 

Whisperleaf lit up like a pile of tinder, bursting into flame from head to foot, screaming. Radiant Lightbringer and The Sturg  were also badly burned, though fortunately Radiant was on the edge of the blast, and The Sturg's Armor of Undying Flame helped absorb some of the blast. 

Vermithor smiled and barreled down toward the party, unsheathing his great claws. "Time to finish them" he thought. "Time to eat."

Overconfidence was always the downfall of the Red Dragon Flight. The great wyrm failed to realize that his enemies were not scattering out of terror, but as a tactical ploy, in order to minimize the effect of his fiery breath. Because of their rapid action, only three of them felt his flames. And while the Druid was grievously wounded, none of them were slain. And now that the first brunt of the dragon fire was spent, they counter attacked.  

 

Merus was born to kill dragons. Her great bow was imbued with an ice elemental and she called on it's power now, sending ice sheathed arrows into the wyrm's great hide. Dakhir hurled blasts of eldritch energy upward. Tello's cannon let off a tremendous roar, an excellent shot, striking the beast where wing met torso, a weak spot with less armor then the rest of the beasts great belly. 

Vermithor roared in anger. The gnats were stinging him, even through his thick hide, he was furious with the pain. He looked for something close by to kill, and saw the unfortunately Ricmo hiding behind his shrub, firing his pistols at the great beast. "You seek to hide from me, you fool!" he snarled to himself.  The dragon descended on the halfling, great wings buffeting his foes, talons ripping at his small opponent, jaws attempting to swallow him whole.

To Ricmo's credit he didn't panic at the horrifying sight. He kept his cool. The halfling pointed both his pistols down the beast's very throat, waited until the last minute, then fired and rolled away sideways. He had called on the power of his armor earlier to grant him speed, and he moved lightning fast. Almost fast enough. But not quite. Dragons were fast too, it turned out. 

The great beast's head jerked back at the pain of the gunshots, aborting his attempt to eat the upstart rogue, but as the halfling rolled away, one of the dragons massive claws caught him and tore open his side. Ricmo screamed as his blood spilled out on the dry rock, shockingly red against the earth. And then The Sturg was there. 

Vermithor roared as the black armored figure interposed itself between him and his prey. He swiped at The Sturg with one great claw. The Sturg blocked with his sable shield, and turned the claw aside, the magical metal proof even against a dragon. 

And for a moment they stared each other down, eye to eye. Vermithor was shocked to see not even the tiniest glint of fear in that stoic stare. The stare seemed to say "So, you're a dragon are you? Bully for you." The Sturg flourished his sword impatiently, almost as if to say "lets get on with it then." Vermithor was momentarily taken aback. 

The Sturg didn't face the beast down alone for long. Radiant raised his mace and in a flash of white light an angelic figure, translucent but armed with a hammer of pure white light, joined the fray. Rushing in, Whisperleaf the Druid not only sent his air elemental to Sturg's aid, but shifted into the form of a giant scorpion, stinging the great wyrm’s feet. The remaining heroes clustered around the melee, keeping out of range of teeth and claws, hurling magic and cannon shot into the tough dragonhide.  Radiant sent out waves of healing energy, the pearly light sustaining his friends.

And finally, Merus called on all the power her bow had to offer, concentrating all it's energy into one mighty shot, sending a gleaming shard of moonlight and ice hurtling across the battlefield,  piercing the dragon’s hide deeply and bringing a roar of pain to it's lips.

Vermithor screamed. This was not at all the easy slaughter he had anticipated. He was injured. He was losing. He needed to escape this pain, regroup, live to fight another day. With a great buffet of his wings, he knocked his enemies back momentarily, and then he took flight once more.  And the great wyrm ran for his life.

Merus fired one final arrow as the dragon passed out of range. Whisperleaf reassumed human form next to her, and heaved a tired sigh.

"We drove it off, but only just barely. That beast has a terrible vitality, even as I dealt it wounds, I saw them healing and closing." he said.

The Ranger nodded. "It will be back" she replied. "And soon. And the next time it will be more cautious."