The party rest on the cavern floor, bloodied, bruised but heroically unbeaten. They also happen to be in possession of a number of newly acquired dragon parts. Beef gets up and enters an adjoining room where he notices a writing table with a journal laid on top alongside a quill and ink well. Picking up the tome he begins to read the contents, it appears that this is the journal of Neronvain. Snapping it shut he places it carefully in his backpack. Whilst Beef is searching the room, Sigrid appears to have taken a liking to the fine purple robe of the fallen Elf and proceeds to quite literally, disrobe him. As the rest of the party sit on the cavern floor, a strong, pungent smell begins to waft around the underground chamber. It turns out that the organic trophies Finn and Farraine have been keeping in their backpacks have started to turn a little ripe and the time has come for them to finally dispose of them. In true Finn and Farraine fashion they do just that, but with style. "Hey Lucien, fancy some fire-based target practice?"
Before the wizard can reply Finn Shouts "Pull" and flings one of the severed tails from the snake creatures high up into the air. Lucien is taken aback briefly but manages to unleash a firebolt which strikes the aromatic appendage, disintegrating it immediately. Without hesitation Finn then takes the severed forearm with the Cult of the Dragon tattoo and throws it into the air. Once more the Wizard is quick on the draw and the fetid forearm bursts into flames, ash, drifting slowly towards the damp, stone floor. Farraine catches on to Finn's plan and throws his own biological booty upwards where it once more meets a ball of flame from the now smiling wizard. Reaching deep into his backpack Farraine locates the severed arm, he can almost see the putrid odour coming off it. A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he tosses it directly at Lucien, who is caught off-guard by the sudden, targeted toss and his firebolt whizzes past the decaying trophy which continues towards him, smacking him in the face in an explosion of rotting flesh and ooze. Farraine and Finn look at each other, smiling. This friendship has come a long way since their travels through the sewers and Finn, for one, is glad he is no longer on the receiving end of foul play.
Pyrotechnic playtime over the rest of the party join Beef and search the room for hidden exits, surely the wretched Wrymspeaker had an alternative non-aquatic way of getting here. Finn searches the table and a small statue for possible triggers but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. Farraine keeps things simple and checks the walls and manages to locate a small draft coming from one section of the chamber. He feels around and something clicks, a section of the wall swings back to reveal a corridor beyond. Walking through the passageway it opens up into a large room, portraits and tapestries adorn the rough hewn walls and a bed sits off to one side. At the foot of the bed is a large chest. Beef using his past experiences to guide his actions checks the chest for traps, noticing a small needle sized hole near the lock. He tells the Halfling of the potential danger as Finn gets out his thief's tools from his belt. Not wanting to take any unnecessary risks the Rogue conjures a spectral hand which proceeds to slowly open the chest as Finn squats behind the chest for extra safety. The lock clicks open, a small dart shoots from the hole and bounces harmlessly off the wall opposite. Beef takes a look inside the chest and lifts out a Large Book. The Bard feels a sense of unease as his hands move over the book's bindings, a fearsome face etched on the front cover, it appears to be bound in skin. His hand moves to the back of the book and his finger probes what he thinks to be a button of some sort. He fingers it gently but nothing happens as he turns the book over to take a closer look at the back cover he realises that it wasn't a button he was prodding. To his horror it becomes hauntingly apparent that it was, in fact, a wrinkled anus.
In disgust, the Bard throws the tome at Finn who has been eyeing the book rather strangely since he first saw it. The Halfling is knocked off his feet as he catches the massive ledger. A sly grin creeps across his face. Farraine asks Finn if he knows what it is but the Halfling just replies that it is currently a mystery to him but that he will investigate it later once they have reached safety. With renewed vigour and one violated finger, the party head out of the room through a passage, and find a storeroom containing a bounty of foods and beverages. Taking some rations for the journey ahead and a number of rather fine bottles of Elven Wine (which are sampled by each of them prior to their procurement) they continue towards the exit of the cavern via another narrow tunnel. Soon they realise that this is the place where Finn had cunningly cast a magical trap, should any enemies decide to follow them into the Dragon's lair. "Can you disarm your trap?" asks the athletically inept Wizard
Finn frantically searches through his spellbook...."errrm......hang on....oh....er..no" replies a somewhat downcast Halfling. "It looks like the only options we have for the spell to end, are to either wait a little less than half a day, or step on it." Sigrid, who at some point during this meandering recap turned into an owl, flies effortlessly over the trap laid out on the floor. Farraine and Beef both leap easily to the other side and Finn shows his athletic nimbleness, leaping and running across the wall to safety. All eyes are on the wizard as he mentally prepares himself for the launch. Taking a few steps backwards he runs as fast as he can, robe flapping around his ankles. He plants his foot hard on the floor and with all the grace of an epileptic goose soars through the air, landing just beyond the range of the trap. He lets out a small sigh of relief.
The party spend some time searching the cavern once more to see if there is anyone else present but their investigations prove fruitless. As they are about to exit the cave and begin their journey back to Altand, they realise that it would be wise to bring the body of the fallen Elf back to his people. So in a surprisingly short amount of narrative, the party return to the Dragon's lair, retrieve the beaten enemy, wrap him in bedsheets and carry him to their waiting Wyverns. Taking to the skies our adventurers make their way back to the Elven village in the heart of The Misty Forrest. Landing on the outskirts of the hamlet they are greeted by Alagarthas and his cohort of Elves. Upon receiving the body of his fallen brother the Prince thanks the party for their heroic deeds in defeating the dragon and their thoughtfulness for returning his brother. Whatever his trespasses in life may his journey in death more peaceful. For the next few days the party enjoy the comforts of Elven hospitality (and more importantly hygiene) as thanks for their endeavours. Before they get too comfortable, it is time for our heroes to begin the next leg of their quest. Stocking up on potions of healing and rations (at a well earned discount obviously) the party feel well prepared for whatever troubles lie ahead...if only that were true.
Swooping into the sky once more on their wonderful Wyverns the party head off to search the wreckage of Skyreach Castle for Rezmir's Dragon Mask . After a couple of days of uneventful travel the party see the mountains looming up ahead as they draw closer the clouds begin to thicken and the air gets colder and colder, their breath visible. Spying the ruins below, the party descend to the snow-covered crash site. They jump from their winged transport, their feet sinking a little into the snow beneath, wind and ice whip at their faces and chill them to the bone. It seems the search for the mask is going to be far more difficult than they had originally thought. The small Halfling and the robed Wizard feel the effects of the cold the most. Sigrid conjures a small bonfire to provide some warmth for the party as they decide their next move. Beef inserts his finger into his ring of warmth, no not that one, not that one either (the book is still in Finn's backpack) and the bitter wind and snow has little to no effect on him. Sigrid transforms into a Direwolf and Farraine relies on his naturally elevated levels of constitution and confidence to protect him from the elements. Leaving the Wizard and the Halfling crouching by the fire the remaining party members take off into the blizzard in search of the Dragon mask. If only they had brought warmer clothes and perhaps a shovel or two, their task may not have been so difficult or indeed...dangerous.
Tracking through the storm, Beef, Farraine and Sigrid split up to cover ground more quickly. Beef meditates briefly and attunes himself to magical auras that may surround the Mask, speeding his search considerably. Sigrid paws at the snow hoping to reveal the wooden visage as soon as possible. Farraine begins bravely stepping through the snow drifts, digging ferociously with his hands. Time passes and our focus returns to the two left behind, huddled around the bonfire, it seems the cold has slowed their thoughts somewhat and it takes a little too long for them to realise that they still have the ability to search nearby and return to the flames when the coldness gets too much for them. Lucian, cursing his Wizardly wardrobe and longing for trousers walks a short way from the fire and begins to dig away at the snow. Finn calls upon his familiar Binky who pops into existence, after a brief conversation in which Binky congratulates the Rogue for defeating the Dragon, the familiar heads out into the blizzard in search of the Mask. Cutting back to Beef trudging through the snow, cut off from the rest of his companions... He wipes the snow from his face, the flakes melting against his skin. It's difficult to see where he's searched and where he hasn't, but thankfully, the divination magic told him what he needed to know. There was nothing here either. He presses on, trudging through the biting wind and swirling snow, cloak billowing around him.
Wait... did something move? Spinning around, he peers through the swirling snow, shielding his eyes from the relentless storm. It must be his imagination, he reassures himself, but then the very ground seems to come alive before him. The stench of rotting meat and wet fur fills his nostrils. A grotesque bipedal creature stands a few feet away it's mouth wide, baring long fangs. Its arms seem too long for its body and end in razor-like claws, but it's the eyes that transfix him, burning with malevolent hatred. Too late to run. He reaches for Midnight and tries to whisper words of power but the words don't come. He can't move. Paralyzed by foul magic, he feels the unnatural cold seeping into his limbs, draining his strength. With a chilling howl, the beast swings a massive clawed hand catching his Dragonguard breastplate. Ribs break beneath the force of the blow, air explodes from his lungs as he's sent flying through the air. He lands hard. Face down in the snow and doesn't see the next blow. Searing pain erupts in his neck and back as the creature's raking claws bite deep, rending armour, muscle and bone. And then as swiftly as it had come, the beast is gone, loping away into the gloom.
As darkness creeps into his vision, Beef is vaguely aware of the tattoo tingling on his arm. Soft gentle warmth radiates outwards and a sense of calm overtakes him, the pain begins to fade. His vision begins to darken and he can't breathe. Blood fills his throat... Fuck.
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