29th of Eleasis (Highsun) to 1st of Eleint (The Fading) – Summer 1486
Location: High above the Dessarin Valley
“Urgh guys, dere’s a dragon fly'n right at us” Smacky panted as he caught his breath from sprinting back into the tower from the edge of Zephyros’ cloud. Pinko looked up from his giant-sized scroll. “What colour was it?!” he enquired. “Ummm, hammer-colour me thinks.” reflected the barbarian holding his weapon aloft and indicating toward the business end. Pinko knew Silver Dragons were normally not a cause for concern, usually being tolerant towards other intelligent races, except perhaps…. Giants. “Oh, an’ it carry’n dwarves, at least six of them, shiny armour like him.” Smacky added. Pinko didn’t question this, he knew Smacks had near-magical distance vision and lacked the creativity to concoct such a fanciful tale. To punch home the point, a shadow flew past the upper windows and the buffeting wings of the creature blew up wispy tornados of cloud-stuff outside.
The dragon swooped down to ground level and without stopping carefully dropped its payload of heavily armed and armoured dwarves onto the spongy surface before a mighty beat of its wings sent it climbing once more. This time Zephyros could be heard above calling out to the beast. “Shoo! Shoo! Pesky dragon I have nothing to interest you here! Shoo!” Watching wordlessly from the entrance alcove, Seeps saw the silver-scaled lizard rear up and blast a torrent of icy blue frost-like mist into the aerie, sending the pack of Griffons fleeing. Oddly, they didn’t seem injured, merely uncoordinated and sluggish. Even more weirdly, the reptile didn’t pursue the easy prey, but continued graceful loops around the tower. Seepage turned her attention to the small army as it formed ranks and marched purposely towards the door, and it seemed to Pinko that a complex set of emotions washed over the tiefling in a matter of seconds. At first, the usual bright red colour of her skin faded, then returned with a vengeance accompanied by literal smoke leaching out of her every pore. Seepage ran across the room behind one of the enormous statues, waved a complicated series of gestures in the air around her person and in the instant before she disappeared stared into Pinko’s eyes with a glower more intense than even the druid had ever anticipated. He knew Seeps had the morals of a green dragon but had never suspected her to actually hold onto true hatred before. From the empty space the warlock recently occupied echoed a single word. “Gauntlet.”
The squadron of veteran dwarves burst into the room to find Pinko standing open-handed before them with Smacky just behind him, leaning on the pommel of his hammer, its head resting on the ground at his feet. The leader of the troop stopped and raised a fist in the air commanding his retinue to halt and stand at attention, weapons sheathed but at the ready. The knight raised the visor of his helmet, pulled a scroll off his hip, unfurled it and read aloud “By order of Darathra Shendrel, Lord Protector of Tribor, Champion of The Order of the Gauntlet, and authorised by the Lord’s Decree, this threat to the people of the Dessarin Valley is to be disabled. Stand aside!” Pinko attempted to placate the soldiers, explaining how Zephyros was no threat to the common people and a harmless wizard but Sir Voldrik Firehammer was not having a bar of it. “We can not take the risk. Giants are rampaging through the land and it is the duty of the Order and of the Twelve of Tribor to protect our people. With that, Voldrik gave a signal and as one all six dwarves quaffed a potion from behind their shields, started to fade… and float.
Beards and eyes turned upwards towards the hole that allowed access to the second story of the tower, the strike team ignored Pinko and Smacky and began flying slowly towards the ceiling. Smacky charged forwards and jumped, attempting to grab Voldrik around the ankles before he got too high, but the Gaseous Form potion had made the dwarf incorporeal and Smacks was unable to gain purchase. Unperturbed, the barbarian bolted over to his pack, flung his rope over his shoulder, put a grappling hook between his teeth and proceeded to climb the enormous statue opposite the one Seeps had disappeared behind. At the top, sixty feet above the ground, the half-orc unslung the rope and tied the hook to one end just as the slow-moving gaseous dwarves disappeared over the edge into Zephyros’ chambers. The wizard could be heard trying to politely address the ‘guests’ and asking them to leave as the whole tower shook.
The silver dragon had landed precariously on the small roof of the alcove that formed the giant’s sleeping area and craned its head into the room. Zephyros used Mage Hand to pick up a broom and batted it over the nose as if he was scolding a naughty puppy. “SHOO! SHOO!” he called as the beast opened its maw and blasted a foggy cloud directly at the Giant’s face. Zephyros froze mid-swing, his mage hand disappearing, broom crashing to the floor and body becoming entirely rigid as the paralysing breath took effect. The dragon released its grip on the masonry and resumed circling the building, watching the dwarves through the windows on each lap.
Pinko nearly jumped out of his own skin as Seepage ended her invisibility spell directly in front of him and popped back into view. Above them the repeated ‘swoosh swoosh swoosh - clink!’ telegraphed Smacky’s attempts to find purchase with his grappling hook on the stone edge of the access to the second floor. “Who are those Dwarves and what is ‘Gauntlet’?” Pinks asked the newly appeared Warlock while they watched the grunting and swearing Smacky swing his rope and the last of the Dwarves disappear over the rim. “The Order of the Gauntlet, goody-two-shoes out of Tribor. The dwarves are mercenaries from Mithral Hall, as is I suspect, the Dragon. Their leader is Voldrick, a member of The Twelve, they're Knights in shining smegging armour.” She spat. “He doesn’t like me very much.” Pinko was surprised at the direct and seemingly honest reply to his question from Seeps, who was not usually one to share her past so openly. “I think I will kill him now.” Cockseepaged added as an afterthought as a cry of orcy success echoed through the hall.
Smacky’s hook had finally found purchase. He gave the rope a tug and satisfied it was holding fast swung off into the middle of the room, climbing hand over hand. The sound of ringing like hammers on an anvil had begun to fill the tower as he pulled himself over the edge and charged into battle out of sight of his friends below. “He’s going to need help.” Pinks mused. “Even Smacky can’t take on all those dwarves alone.” He started to rack his brain for a way up. “Don’t look at me, I’d like nothing more than to cut out that pompous dwarf’s tongue… if I could fly, I would.” preempted Seeps. “No tieflings can't, but fairies can!” Exclaimed the druid as he feverishly patted his belt for the little pouch of Fairy Dust they took off the cultists a few days ago. He tipped out a small handful and threw it into the air. As the sparkly powder rained down a tingling sensation came over him but his feet stayed firmly planted on the flagstones. “Weeeeeeeeee!” cried Seepage as she shot upwards and sailed towards the second floor laughing joyously. “I’ll see you later!” she called down as she backflipped dramatically to complete the 100-foot ascent. Something about the quip caused Pinks to raise his hands in front of his face. He could see nothing, the dust had made him invisible. He concentrated for a moment to dismiss the effect, shook another puff of dust over his head, and this time felt the feather lightness of aerial abilities raise him from the floor.
Pinko crested the horizontal doorway and took in a frantic scene. A massive glowing orb whose purpose he did not know stood on a pedestal and seemed to be the target of the dwarves' aggression. Three of them wailed on it with their warhammers and it was visibly cracking under the assault. Zephyros stood completely motionless staring at a heavily damaged window above his enormous bed. One of the raiders was crawling away from a raging Smacky while another tried to shield his retreat. The wounded one’s armour was dented and his beard was soaked in blood from a massive head wound. Cockseepage floated above the melee taunting Voldrick with the reach of her whip as he had nothing to effectively retaliate with. Cunningly, the knight lowered his shield and caught one lash with his hammer instead and pulled her crashing down to the floor with her own weapon.
Pinks decided now would be a good time to intervene and summoned his Primal Savagery claws, slashing into the distracted leader of the dwarves' back. Smacky felled his opponent, turned, made a grab at Voldrick’s arms and pinned him from behind as Seeps pulled herself up from the floor. Staring at the restrained knight, the fire burning behind the warlock’s eyes held everyone’s attention. Even the sound of the orb being constantly hacked at faded into the background as Seeps drew her dagger and cut the restraints on her leather armour, letting the breastplate fall to the floor. “Remember me, Voldy?” she hissed as she approached. The dwarf struggled ineffectually against Smacky’s grip. “Aye, she-devil, and how appropriate to find you here, in league with Giants! A curse upon you!” he replied stoically uncowed by his immobility. “Curse? What a wonderful idea… I owe you one of those at least.” smirked Seepage. She pulled up her top and revealed 12 long keloid scars, 6 on each side of her stomach, and a more intricate pattern branded around her navel which, horrified, Pinko recognised as the same 'sword and fist' emblem Voldrik carried on his shield. Seepage ran the tip of her blade along a scar drawing blood and whispered to her dark patron. The blade glowed purple and seemed to absorb one of the raised skin ridges which disappeared leaving behind fresh red skin. As she held the knife aloft the light jumped the 3 feet from her to Voldrick, the Hexblade’s Curse soaking into his eyes, as the world exploded.
Pinko’s ears rang and he coughed up blood. He was on the floor, pressed hard up against the tower's wall, Zephyros still unmoving towering above him. The last thing he caught on the edge of his vision before the blast was the fatal blow of a Dwarven hammer finally shattering Zephyros’ glowing orb and the energy erupting from it providing a beautiful split second of multi-coloured light before the wave of force and shrapnel hit. Around the room, injured soldiers were slowly picking themselves up shaking their heads and staggering towards the windows. He watched as one half climbed, half fell out in a seemingly suicidal move before the flash of silver wings reminded him this was not over. Amazingly, standing firm in the middle of the carnage stood Smacky, still clutching the stout Knight. He had been closest to the orb and several pieces of it could now be seen embedded in his bare arms and the side of his face. Voldrick looked even worse, a massive shard protruded from his neck. Standing over him, miraculously unharmed, stood Cockseepage, a faint glow around her, dagger in hand. She stepped forward and gently rested its tip on the shard in the dwarf Knight's neck. “Here, let me get for you.” she said softly as she flicked her wrist and cleanly cut the offending piece of crystal out, taking half of Voldrik's throat along with it.
The beer cart rumbled into Mornbryn's Shield’s in the evening two days later which by Pinko's count was the first day of the month of Eleint, and marked the Fading of Summer. After the orb was smashed and Voldrik fell the remaining raiders had retreated, their mission complete, the Silver Dragon carrying them southwest over the horizon. Zephyros had eventually recovered and seemed sad at the destruction and death that greeted him, explaining with the navigation orb destroyed, he had no control over the cloud and would have to drift on the wind until he could fashion a new one which would take him several months. He had been able to lower the cloud spiral ramp to let the party down to earth and the final miles along the road to the dropoff point had been uneventful bar the late summer showers. The Mickale Trio was back on solid ground with, it seemed, a new enemy hunting them as soon as those dwarves returned to Tribor and informed its leader that The Twelve was now The Eleven.
Next Episode: Smuggling & Struggling
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