subplotkudzu | Emirikol Session 15, part 2

Once they felt rested enough to continue his companions begin their trip through the forest in earnest. If the maps were correct it would take them a whole day of hard riding to get through, assuming that nothing went wrong. The road remains visible enough, though clearly little more than a track now, and from time to time they spot faces or hear noises that provide evidence that the woods have not remained wholly unpopulated. Hunters and colliers more like than not; certainly not bandits as the road appears untraveled and bandits require more regular fare. Melas elven eyes spot something, and he poses a question to his companions “what might make burn marks at a regular height across trees in a line or row?” They spend some time pleasantly answering his no doubt hypothetical riddle – dragons, chimera, wizard duels, very tall charcoal burners – before Melas cautions that if, well, they see any of those things they should let everyone know.

It is well into nighttime when the trip pass through what was once the center of the city, now piles of rubble overgrown and lichen covered. While the area is not quite at the level of no stone lying upon stone it is thoroughly deconstructed. They are leading their horses past uneven cobblestones when a voice echoes from all around them “Trip trap, trip trap, who enters my domain. Name yourselves.” The three look from one to the other before Melas declares “you first!” or words to that effect.

“Such inhospitable behavior and presumption. I smell gold and magic on you, human. I’ll take your sword and all your coin, and two of your three horses as toll for passing through.”

Melas unslings his enchanted greatsword and points it into the direction of the voice, “I’ll give you this sword right up to the hilt,” he replies, and his companions smile at his clever retort. Their smiles die quickly as a shape rushes from the darkness and rubble, a dragon of sapphire blue stretching the length of three horses from its nose to the end of its tail. The beast overbears Melas effortlessly, opening a large gash on the nobleman’s leg and dismounting him.

“That’s what he gets for being secretive,” Melas thought, staring up at the horrific beast, “If I could have seen what I was facing I would have buckled under to his demands!” The dragon takes wing for a second and lands on Melas’ fleeting horse, ripping its head off and cracking its skill with a crunch.

Cyble, knowing she is no horsewoman, slides from her mount and generates her magical armor, keen to do battle with the beast. Detrick remains mounted, his sword sheathed, staring at it, unwilling to buckle but not sure enough to draw. Melas, having felt the dragon’s vile strength, tosses the greatsword and money belt to the ground in front of him and executes a small obeisance. “Of course, your magnificence. Had you but shown yourself I would never have used such uncouth language. By your leave, then?” he queried, hopeful to escape with no more damage.

The dragon gives him a curt nod before fixing his eyes on Cybele, “You may release your horse to Bluebeard as well, child.” Cybele bristles, “Who says I’m releasing it?” She prepares her most potent evocation but then remembers from her arcane training the blue dragons harness the lightning and are immune to its effects. She settles on a lesser one, a quartet of glowing emerald serpents leap from her hands and bury themselves into the beast’s neck…to minimal effect. Its lips turn up into a smirk and it returns the favor, unleashing a hellish blast of blue-white lightning that, were it not for her instinctive abjurations, would have left her a pile of charcoal. As it is she is blown off of her feet and severely burned, but, being a daughter of the empire, recovers herself and stands again. The dragon has again taken wing to snatch and kill her mount. It looks back at the three of them with contempt and declare that they may leave its presence now. They do so, Deitrick never turning his back or breaking his stare at the beast. “I am willing to wager,” Melas grumbles, “That if Hiram had been with us he would have known about the dragon.”

Cybele, aching as she clambers onto Detrick’s horse, the paladin having seen that she was in no shape to walk through the woods alone, adds “And he could have drawn away these wounds.”

“Yes,” Deitrick confirms, “Having Hiram here would make it much easier for us to rescue Hiram. For if nothing else we could just go home now.”

“Go home?” Melas snorts. “Not when I have to get my sword back!” They stomp their way through the forest, tying to find the road that would carry them back to civilization.