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Then came the Scrubs on that terrible day / Steadfast as winter, they entered the fray / and all heard the music of the Dragua's own doom. / The sweet song of battle rose out of the gloom.
And so the Scrubs freed us from the Dragua enraged, / raise your mugs and rejoice at the dawn of an age / and if Dragons are eternal, than eternity's done... / for their glory is over, and the Scrub Squad has won.
-Shanty by Rom
Once more unto the breach, dear Scrubs, once more. That seemed to be the motto for the motley crew from Rugnos. "From Rugnos" wasn't even true, though, and only seemed to highlight the differences between them. In truth, despite (mostly) fighting for Rugnos now, the small team came from all corners of Tur with seemingly no connection between them apart from the need to be in the war - by choice, conscription, or something else. Some are born Scrubs, some achieve Scrubness, and some have Scrubness thrust upon them. They'd gone from nobodies that didn't know each other to semi-nobodies that had a bond that ran beyond what most would understand. They were the Scrub Squad and always would be.
Command from higher-ups - the likes of whom Kaldon had never met nor probably wanted to - had deigned that there was a need for the supply lines to be protected. Fine, that was understandable, Kal liked food and water as much as the next person, but in this case he wasn't very excited about what he'd heard: here there be dragons.
Rumor had it that some sort of dragon had settled near the mountains along the edge of the Dark Forest where the roads ran close. Armies camping at the front had been in all sorts of bad situations with a shortage of supplies from these attacks that had left no survivors. With that in mind, command had decided to send their best and brightest out to fight the beast.
Unfortunately, the best and brightest had been killed last week, so instead they got the Scrubs.
So, out they'd "wandered" moving with a full column of Grey Guard, soldiers, and mercenaries at their command. When had that happened? Oh, that was right, despite their bumbling and complete lack of subtlety, they'd somehow managed to survive SURPRISE BEAR, a troll, hill rolls, multiple Uk'ura camps, and more. Apparently someone thought the end product was worth the graceless delivery.
As they approached the area where the dragon had been spotted, Kaldon took in a look at his surroundings. A small river sat to their left and a mountain to their right. The road they marched led down along where the base of the mountains reached the trees, leaving the area covered with large boulders between the trees of the wood, and at the base of the mountain, he could see multiple entrances to what looked like a deep cave system that ran into the mountains.
His hand gripped more tightly around the shaft of his longbow, eyes peeled for their foe. The sun was just slipping over the horizon and soon it would be dark, though only time would tell if that was a blessing or a curse.
"Be careful here, lad-" Sigwald told the much burlier and better equipped Grey Guard that marched alongside him. The former slave had become a conscript that made Grey Guardian. Silently he mused his own legacy as Sigwald the Archer, reborn from frost and the blackness of prison and cursed by Ziatonuth before being cast out by the Dragons he revered. A sad tale, perhaps, but his companions were his wolfpack and he would sooner die than to abandon them. If the rumors were true, he would wrestle back the respect of the dragons by killing one of their kind soon enough. Perhaps then he could finally return home to Hagi.
This time, he couldn't say he wasn't prepared for a good fight. Packing a good longbow, pristine carved arrow heads and the trusted longsword he had been forced to use as a crutch during months of rehabilitation and travelling. His armor consisted of padded leather and goat fur to warm him at night. For the first time in a decade, Sigwald looked like a proper Borysian warrior again. "-there's bears lurking in this forest, black as night with claws strong enough to cleave through the thickest of trees. Heed my words, you'd rather face a Dragon head on than get ambushed by an uncommonly devious bear."
Spotting the entrances what was presumably a cave system, Sigwald suddenly turned around to grin at the dwarf behind him. "Say, Gordzin-" his mauled face looked at odds with the overjoyed look in his eyes, "-Why don't we ask your cousin Under The Mountain if he could help us find this dragon?" pausing, Sigwald's eyes twitched towards the forest, "-and put some ales by the hearth for tonight-" his pleasant tone suddenly dropped to a nervous muttering, "-I grow weary of these trees."
It took Arryn a bit to fully process the events that had brought her to this moment, marching along the edges of the Dark Forest in Rugnos with a cadre of misfits and soldiers who were all following reports of a draconic beast that had been spotted in the area, near Rugnos' supply line. She knew something of the war even though she had never participated; she wasn't even really loyal to Rugnos per say. Her reason for being there was a couple feet in front of her: the Psion, Acaelus Ouros. Cael. Her mentor. Her extremely pervy mentor.
There she had been, chasing the ghosts of family that might not even exist in the woods of Rugnos, when she met him; shortly thereafter, they had been chased south by a elven assassins in pursuit of Cael; and then the rumors of a dragon had reached them and neither one of them had been able to quiet their curiosity. It was an odd turn of events, to be sure, by Arryn had never seen a dragon before. Heard stories, legends, rumors? Sure. But such things were never truly real until one saw them with their own eyes, and she was both excited and fearful to finally see one with her's.
The setting could not have been more ominous. Mountains framed the area immediately to their right; a small, thin river boxed them in on the left. The road upon which they were marching led them towards a very dark-looking swath of trees marking the outer edges of the aforementioned Dark Forest; and there was, what appeared to be, a system of caves along the base of the hills. A perfect place to hide, she supposed, if things truly went south.
Or a good place to be buried, she thought morbidly.
She cast a wary glance at Cael. He was more prepared for this than her. He was trained to use his magic in combat, whereas she had only just started her training. Then again, if the legends were true, his magic would be pretty much useless against a dragon. That left them with their other skills, and Arryn was far more confident in her bow than anything else. She sighed, a heavy, deep sigh.
And, with a self-deprecating smirk, she thought, Well, to go out fighting a dragon isn't the worst way I can imagine. It even sounds... a bit heroic.
Never trust a horse. They were willy creatures more likely to throw you off then listen to a damn thing you had to say. If there was one thing Gordzin had learn in life, it was your own two feet were better than a tricky beast. Unless, your feet betrayed you and you ended up rolling down a hill. That had only happened to him once or twice. It certainly wouldn’t happen a third time. Still more trustworthy than a horse. Fortunately, his feet were attached to two stout dwarven legs. Perfect for long marches and quick sprints. Gordzin was one happy dwarf as long as he wasn’t forced into cross country running.
He found himself marching alongside a column of Grey Guards tasked with protecting the Rugnos supply lines. He still wondered how in the name of Elenes they had gotten here. The aptly named Scrub Squad had botched one mission after the other. They barely escaped each time with their lives. He had watched Kal loose misguided arrows, Kyrst stumbled about in the dark, Nymr fall down fighting trolls, and Sigwald be mauled by a shockingly sudden bear. Of course, most embarrassingly, Gordzin had rolled down a hill in the heat of battle. After each mission, they returned to camps to find their legend growing.
The mighty Scrub Squad climbed the ranks. He had no idea what the Rugnos command saw. He suspected they so lacked for commanders that the Squad was the only choice left. So it was, they had been given command of this rag tag group searching for a dragon. He prayed to Taneth it was rumor and nothing more. Dwarves were easily flammable. Gordzin should have been riding a horse, shouting commands, but you can’t trust a horse. Instead, he walked alongside his best friends with Oathkeeper slung on his back. He loved Sigal, Kal, Nymr, and Kyrst like family. They were strange, unlucky, fools, but family. Gordzin cracked a smile and laughed as Sigwald turned around.
“Aye, we aren’t all related, and we don’t all live in caves.” His mischievous smile widened. “Besides, I hear bears make their homes in the mountains around these parts. I’ve pulled you from the brink of death enough times, thank you very much.” He eyed the trees around them. He had had enough of the forest. “I’d feel safer with stone and snow beneath by feet. But this is better than the damnable swamp.” He laughed again. There would be no dragon. It was a silly human suspicion. They would never send the Scrub Squad if there was an actual dragon.
Walking alongside the band of soldiers and their somewhat infamous leaders, Brynjolf couldn't help but reflect on the endless trouble that his curiosity seems to lead him to. Caves rumored to contain tombs and reliquaries from the distant past? Swarming with undead. A tower where men had charted the wheeling of the heavens for many centuries? A temporary barracks for a cadre of *very* unfriendly mage hunters from House Toden. A beautiful young elf maiden wishing to hear another song in a more... private setting? Beloved wife of the local Jarl.
And now he was walking down a soldiers road surrounded by the Rugnast military, trusty sword at his hip and polearm swung up against his shoulder, a full quiver nestled between his wings, a stout yew bow clenched in his free talon, and the weight of his best armor settled easily against his anthropromorphic form on his way to fight a drauga. A Spirits damned dragon. Shaking his feathered head ruefully, Brynjolf increased his pace to stand just behind the grizzled human and dwarf bantering back and forth. Laughing at their antics, Brynjolf quietly sang to himself as he pondered how he'd construct the tale of their victory over the Drauga.
"They fought the dragon, and rode home to feast / to waiting maidens - two apiece! / They drank and sung and toasted in awe... / Not one had fell to the Drauga's maw!"
The griffon considered himself an optimist.
Walking along with the rest of the massive column of soldiers, Cael did his best to blend in. Just because they were on the warfront didn't mean he was going to trust all of these people he didn't know that he was a mage. There was still a stigma, after all, a fear of mages that, in his mind anyways, was silly. So, to prevent any potential issues, Cael had changed his wardrobe to match that of Arryn; the garb of a hunter, now mixed with some of the clothing of a soldier. His clothing was spartan and drab.
Glancing at Arryn, the Erodian Psion wondered how amusing it was how they had gotten to where they were. After meeting in the Anari forest the pair managed to find their way south east until they came to Helmut's pass, all because of a rumor on dragons, and the need to avoid civilized areas for a while; he wanted to let things cool off for a minute after his last job. For Cael it had been rather fun, equal parts teaching and teasing the half-elf all the way down to the Lowlands. "You think you're ready?" He asked Arryn, meaning both themselves and the army. "With five thousand souls and siege ballista I would hope we can take whatever dragon is down here."
Having never seen a dragon of any kind before, Cael had immediately volunteered as one of the sellswords to go see and fight a dragon. It seemed foolhardy, but in the massed pack of soldiers seemed like the best way to go about it. Plus, who knows, maybe they'd actually contribute to killing the thing. He somewhat doubted it, though, after all, they were just two lowly psions with swords and bows and daggers in an army of war engines and heroes.
With the sun setting and dark storm clouds rolling overhead, Cael listened to the singing of a nearby Valari who looked like a Griffon. The... creature? Bird? Whatever it was had a decent singing voice, and tune inspired confidence. "Well, this should be a whole lot of fun. One to tell your kids about, right?" He smirked as he nudged Arryn playfully.
Kyrst had a bad feeling about this.
To be honest, his bad feeling prefaced almost every adventure he had set out on with Scrub Squad. They had always set out with the best of intentions, seemingly prepared to take on the day only to have the most bizarre obstacles hinder their path. Today made him especially nervous due to the rumors surrounding a beast of a draconic nature. Though there had been news that dragonkin had joined the fray on the Uk’ura side, it had always seemed like a concept far removed from where they were.
Reports came in of swaths of dead soldiers and the manner of their deaths spoke volumes about the type of monster that could have done it. There was a sinking feeling inside as Kyrst trudged along next to what more or less had become family. He grinned as he heard the light banter between Sigwald and Gordzin. The Drow picked up pace to align with the dwarf, “Well, looks like there are plenty of hills around here,” He had to bite on his lip to keep the grin off his face.
With him, the Drow brought a unit of soldiers that specialized in artillery. Just as a precaution, they had brought with them several ballistae prepared to fire giant bolts should there truly be a fight on their hands. As the sun began to disappear over the horizon, the strain on his eyes eased off significantly. Much to his dismay, however, the clouds began to churn above, growing dark and ominous. The evening would bring thunderstorms, and that further perpetuated the bad feeling he was getting.
“Doing all right, Nym?” He called over to the woman that had come a long way with them. They had a rocky start mainly due to the animosity between Kyrst and Sigwald, but all of that was old news now. The Drow made his way towards along the base of the mountain, his keen eyes not picking up any suspicious movement yet. He did notice other new faces joining the party though. For now, he said nothing, waiting to see how they’d react to having a Drow amongst them.
"Reports of some...draconic beast have been made. Normally I wouldn't poke at such a rumor. But I have my orders, and it's too close to the supply lines for comfort. You have a history with such things, take a patrol and attach yourselves to the main force being sent to investigate. Dismissed."
And that was how Dirk found himself at the head of a twenty-horse heavy cavalry patrol. Each of them and their horses were heavily armored. Dirk had a variety of weapons, broadsword, lance, war axe. A dagger. A soft rain fell, pattering on the ground and on their armor. Dirt turned to mud mixed with pine needles, broken twigs, and other forest detritus. Their horses seemed to care little, their shod hooves bit into the ground uncaring of the composition.
His horse snorted as rain trickled into its nose. A drage, that's what he suspected. They would certainly be able to take down such a beast, with their numbers it was a given. The column eventually drew to a halt in front of a cave system. He raised a clenched fist to tell his men to stop, while he trotted his horse ahead to meet with a group that seemed to be having a discussion about bears, and the concern that there might be one around. "Between you and me, I wouldn't mind a bear showing up. That's some rich, juicy meat. Serve it piping hot off a fire with a tankard of ale, a slice of warm bread, and you've got a damn fine meal," he said as he slid his visor up. "Are we making camp here?" he asked. The caves would be a nice shelter for their animals and gear. Rust was an annoying enemy to fight.
What in all the gods names was Vincent even doing here? He could not even fathom for the life of him why he had chosen this particular group to pair up with. They had seemed "competent" at least in appearance. Yet as soon as they had gotten underway it had been nothing short of one disaster after another. Vincent rubbed his face from beneath the water proofed hood he was wearing. Now they were going to stand off against some manner of Dragon?!
"What am I doing?" He whined, looking down at the rather simple looking sword on his hip.
Fear crawled up and down his back as he looked at the killing tool. He hated fighting, he was terrified of it, hurting people and getting hurt himself was something just so incomprehensible that he could hardly stomach the very idea. Now he was with a band of soldiers. Most of the men in the large company wore this terrifying grey armor and each of them seemed to be more like machines than men, marching in perfect lines. Even so, there was a strangely refreshing sense of comraderie among the soldiers. Were they trained to be friends with one another as well?
Vincent picked up his pace as he realized he was falling behind, only to feel the first droplets of water strike the leather gloves he had put on to protect his skin from the elements. He managed to catch the end of some topic on food.
"I-I can cook a bit, if you like! As thanks for taking me along." He still hadn't the foggiest idea that he had been conscripted back in that brief encounter a few days before.
Aiden hummed away to himself as his horse trudged along with the company. People were speaking all around him, words tinted with fear, awe, excitement, bravado, and more than a fair share of stupidity. The words they spoke were mostly useless gibberish to him, but the emotions behind them told him a great deal more. He sensed the familiarity they had with each other, the trust they placed in those leading them, and the sometimes reluctant but still present belief they placed in the decisions those leaders had made to bring them here.
He wondered what they would think of him, not becuase he fears or worried about what they would think, but the process of looking at someone and imagining how they would react to someone like him had become a game for him. He didn't have much to entertain himself, after all he knew almost no one here. The one person he did know, the stupid bard who was partly responsible for Aiden being here was presently in some other part of the company.
As for why he was here, well that was simple. Having lost everything he owned after his exile, he had been forced to look for means to look for ways to entertain himself and to keep himself fed. The bard had shared a druken tale with him about dragon semen being a key ingredient for some dark magic, and in certain circles it would sell for a fortune. A Kings fortune. He didn't know how true the story was, specially when on pressing the bard had revealed that the spells it was used for were mostly used by old men to increase their verility, but he was bored enough to be willing to find out.
Nymr had a bad feeling about the day to come. Her luck had been horrible the night before, she had lost every game of dice and cards that she had gambled on, even when she cheated. She had awoken hungover, alone, with ants crawling in her bedroll. The unwelcome bed companions must have been with her all night, and they had been biters too, the skin under her armor itching something fierce. It took all she had to not rip the leathers and steel off to scratch the relentless irritation.
Marching along, as they had been for hours, the Grey Guard looked to be an intimidating force. Nymr still wondered how such a ragged band of misfits who often accomplished their missions through luck and happenstance rather than skill had managed to get swept up into the ranks of the Grey Guard. It didn't matter though, she had a ballista again, glancing over at the sleek war machine of polished wood and steel, oiled ropes and cables slack, not yet set with force upon them.
Kyrst, the dark elf, called out to her, drawing a smile. "Aye I be alright. Be bette' than alright if i had me some o' that feast and ale the Birdmans singin' 'bout. Wouldn't mind a pair o' them maidens either." Laughing to ease the foreboding that had filled her since the morning.
They'd used up the length of the sun in their marching - now it set, the beginnings of a rainstorm causing the hairs all over her body to prickle. She was lucky, of course. Apart from vials of fiery blood and scales, strange and igneous, she'd never seen a dragon before. Now her heart was in her mouth, thumping to get out and run away in the direction they'd came.
The stranger hung back, near the horse-line, drawing comfort from the warmth emanating from their flanks. Drawing attention from no one. Just another mercenary. Nothing to see here.
All the easier for her to run, if it came to that.
The cacophony of beating hooves tore through the canopy of the dense wood, the argent rays of the moon falling through the only patches bare of leaves and branches overhead. The slavers were now down to a mere score of men, eleven on horseback with one guiding the wagon filled with the night's bounty. The taken villagers cried and screamed for help, some still stunned at the horrors these men had brought to their small village. A young boy, pressed against the rear of the cage, cried out to the town's legendary guardian as tears mixed with the blood only now tapering from the wound at his brow. The slavers laughed at the boy, knowing that there never was such a savior for these wretched chattel.
As the men began to boast of their foul deeds that night, the wood opened to a gentle hill half a mile to the Golgorian Bridge. Once they had crossed they would be free of reprisal, having returned to their home country. Only one of the men noticed something wrong, though, that despite the absence of the forest they were still shrouded in the dark. Something still cast a shadow upon them, moving at their speed and large enough to block out the moon. He looked up, the first to see the awesome sight of the giant reptilian creature before it dove down at them with a great beat of it's wings.
In one dive the Dragon claimed the lives of three of them, titanic jaws rending flesh and snapping bone before lifting back to the sky. The survivors rallied quick enough, forcing their horses even faster as they made for the bridge. Surely they would be safe if they made it, they would be home and the money they would make from these villagers would set them for life. Even as the dragon descended again, taking another two men with it's back claws and throwing a wayward horse at a third, they only thought of how little they would have to share the money with the survivors. Just a few more yards, a scant few seconds, and they would be free.
With a sudden crash the Dragon demolished the bridge, diving straight down to crash the ancient stone deep into the chasm. It was too late for the point man, his sliding horse tumbling into the abyss as the rest managed to stop right at the edge. They were too scared to peer down the blackness of the Golgorian Divide, even without the dragon superstition held that the God of the Dead took the soul of any foolish enough to peer into his domain. They paused to ponder their next course, which would spell their doom.
Rising from the chasm, two scaled arms gripping the soil as it pulled itself above the cliff face, the Dragon gave a baleful glare to all of the surviving slavers. The moon accented the silver lines in an otherwise crimson hide, wings now folded against it's back as it turned it's golden eyes from one man to the next. No one seemed brave enough to even breath, the silence of the night absolute for what seemed an eternity. The moment was shattered by the sob of the boy, grateful to tears that his prayer to the guardian had been answered.
With a great draw of breath, the Dragon let loose it's fiery wave over the men who had caused all this destruction and despair. The flame moved at the intent of it's creator, sparing the wagon while claiming the driver and all those who had evil in their hearts. Flesh gave way to bone, until only ash remained. Just as suddenly as they had come to slaughter and pillage, they were now as dead as the rest back in the burning town. Even though lives had been lost, Falaghar the Adamant had saved those he had sworn to protect.
Pulling himself up the rest of the way, the ground shook as he lumbered to the wagon. With one great claw he rent the iron enough for an opening, the townspeople cheering his name as they jumped to their freedom. They clambered around his great form, patting and hugging what parts of his legs and arms they could reach. "Oh, our savior and protector, how can we ever repay you for our lives this day?"
A glint in his eye came with a smile, the Dragon laying down so he could be better reached by their little limbs. "Mine charges, I have saved you this day. However, the act was quite taxing." His voice boomed out even as he tried to keep it low, knowing the full strength of even his vocal cords could render one of these mortals deaf for a spell. "My muscles ache. Afore I return you home, I would request...release from this, and more." The people swarmed him then, arms reaching out to wherevery they could find purchase, eager to please their Guardian in any way-
~~~
The man stopped reading, looking at the flushed face of his compatriot who had just barged into the large chamber with the two of them. Falaghar opened an eye, giving the newcomer and irritated glare at the interruption. He was quite enjoying this story, his flights of fancy being the only things that seemed to entertain him these days. His mind and body were just getting ready for the good part to come, one of the ways the great creature found to relieve the stress of when he had to leave the safety of his caves to the outside world. Of which he had done just that, recently attacking a mortal supply caravan so his followers could eat.
"A thousand pardons, great and merciful Falaghar. There is an army massing outside our home, they seem to be several thousand strong. They also have siege engines, ballistae specifically." Even though the aging man knew this was something Falaghar needed to hear, there was still a good chance he would be punished for his transgression. There weren't a great many rules for living with and serving the great Dragua, though one of them was to not interrupt the daily reading.
"Oh, for the love of...This must be some sort of reprisal for the goods I took from them. They should be honored that their supplies went to feed and clothe the great Falaghar and his charges. I swear, the more time I spend with you mortals the less I understand any of you. You seem adamant to fight against the natural order of the world." He stretched, the warm feeling he had been savoring in his body fading as the wonderful daydream disappeared into his subconscious. Great, now he would have to make the reading boy start all over again, though even THAT wouldn't guarantee the same effect.
"Vincent, return the book to the shelf and go join your parents in their quarters. Alceste, let's see if we can end this like civilized beings." The messenger moved closer as the boy put the book back on the shelf before running off down a side passage. The caves were large enough to house an entire town's worth of people, of which that was exactly how many followers Falaghar had managed to gain over the years since arriving through the Dragon Gate. "Take this message to their leader, and be sure to use the white flag carefully so you aren't shot by a trigger happy human. Now, tell them this..."
~~~
"HEY, I COME TO BEAR A MESSAGE FOR YOUR LEADERS!!" Alceste raised the large white cloth above his head, waving it before showing any of his body to make sure a nervous bowman didn't kill him. Confident he wouldn't be slain, he gingerly stepped out of hiding and walked slowly towards the army. He made sure to show them he wasn't armed, even as he was taken by the force a distance from one of the cave entrance. "Ow, please, not so hard. I am an old man and I break easily!"
After making sure he was indeed of no threat, one of the Grey Guardsmen brought him to the group running this force, nearly shoving Alceste at their feet. "Quite the manners in this group I see. Well, not matter, I suppose it is to be expected from the unenlightened." standing up straight, the gray-haired man gave each of them a gaze of his watery blue eyes, an intelligent glint in the look coupled with a hint of insanity. Anyone having worked with a zealous scholar would have seen the same thing in their eyes.
Alceste stroked his beard before speaking, focusing on the one he assumed was their leader. "I am Alceste of the Followers of Falaghar. My master would like to parley with your army to see if we could resolve this matter without bloodshed. I will guide you to him and if trust is an issue you may bring any number of you to bask in his glory and hear his words. I am also to act as a hostage, so the second you feel your lives threatened you may end mine as needed." He seemed to speak so callously about dying, as if this wasn't the first time this conversation had happened. "Please decide who will come speak with His Most Magnanimous, the day is wearing on quite quickly."
Kaldon was undeterred by the man's vague insults about manners. They were an army and for all intents and purposes, this man was the enemy. Somehow, Kal had stumbled into being the highest rank here so it became his role to make the decision about parlaying... apparently. He shot a sideways glance at Kyrst, who actually had more military experience of the two of them (with being so old and all) but he couldn't imagine a world in which parlaying with a dragua was a good idea.
If everything he'd ever heard or read about the creatures were true, they were cunning. Far more so than he wanted to contend with, and some stories even said they could control the minds of others, though he had his doubts about that particular aspect. Still, if this man - who seemed a little crazy - was any indication, he couldn't discount the thought completely. Not to mention, any number of men he'd take with him as an envoy wouldn't be enough to stand up to the creature. No, everything about this screamed "ploy to kill the leadership and leave the army in disarray."
There has already been bloodshed. We do not come to treat with Falaghar, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: his armies and followers must disband; he is to depart these lands never to return. Telling a dragua to piss right off was a first for him, but he remained firm. Assuming Kyrst had nothing to add, the man would be escorted to the front of the column and sent back with the wonderful message.
He trusted that amidst the darkening skies, Kyrst would be able to tell them if he saw movement beyond in the caves as they waited. He couldn't imagine that this would be very well received but that didn't mean they would just wait. The man would need to travel back to the caves to alert his master before the rage began. In the meantime, the army was preparing. Ballistas were loaded. Some tips were coated with poisons others were packed with a crude others still had thick ropes attached for restraining the monster.
As he watched it unfold, he moved away from the spot of the initial parlay in case that position was fed back to the drake and he came out against that location with a vengeance. If they were going to win this fight, conventional mean wasn't going to win the day, they needed to be smarter or they'd all die. What a happy thought....
Kyrst had to bite back from his knee jerk response of nocking an arrow as he saw a figure approach from the distance. He remained silent, walking up to stand next to Kaldon. Rank wise in the Grey Guard, Kaldon was the highest commanding officer here. Kyrst was second in command, leading the artillery units. For the time being, he simply observed, picking up every detail on this man. The Drow didn’t miss the little glint in his eye and the almost outlandish behavior he possessed. What drove this man? What caused him to serve a dragua above any lord or lady? What did he have to gain from this?
As he spoke, Kyrst was about to mutter something about allowing time and getting to know this man. However, Kal already spoke, quickly shutting the door on the man’s face. The Drow grimaced slightly, his jaw tightening. He had an uneasy feeling about so abruptly and brashly going into battle with an enemy they didn’t know. Kyrst shifted closer to Kal, muttering so only he could hear, “Should we be so brash? We have yet to know what kind of forces this dragua has at its disposal.”
At the same time, Kyrst also wasn’t stupid enough to believe that walking to find the dragua wouldn’t be a trap. The Drow glanced back at his men, giving them the nod to get into position. The ballistae were prepared with ropes, and men prepared their bows and arrows. He glanced all around at the others that joined them on the field today. He silently hoped they weren’t all doomed by their decision.
Kyrst followed Kal, “This is going to be a problem. This isn’t some mere beast. This dragon has minions and servants devoted to it. Blind loyalty is a terrifying enemy to overcome. If it comes to open battle, we cannot afford to show any mercy.”
He blinked and looked up as the first drops of rain began to splatter across his face.
Dirk's jaw tightened in distaste as the dragon-worshiper was brought before them. The man was almost singing the praises of his disgusting master. He stared at the decrepit man before them. Willing to be killed for his master? It was a calculating move, no doubt. This man was too old to be of any serious use for the dragon. He could not fight effectively. If they killed this messenger, it would be of no loss to the Dragon. Were Dirk's visor not covering his face, he would spit.
Yet he too disagreed with Kaldon's hasty rejection. This was a serious problem, it was not some drage that they were after. If this creature had followers, they needed to know how many. "Heretic he and his master may be, but he was sent to parlay under a white banner," Dirk intoned from behind his helm. He hated it, but there was a certain formality to the process. Plus, they needed to know more. "I for one am...curious about this Falaghar," he spat the name as if it was a curse. "Nor is it wise to spurn an enemy we have yet to meet."
He brought his horse closer to Kaldon, casting a sidelong glance at the rocky mouth as he did so. How deep in was the monster? Could it send its fearsome breath down the tunnel and roast the lot of them right then and there? "Sir, send me and keep the messenger here, just like you would if the damned Uk'ura parlayed before a battle. I can report what I see. I have faith that Bamot will guide me safely."
He lowered his voice. "You would have the time to send scouts across the land and find a battlesite that favors us against that monster's minions. At the very least we can establish a perimeter if this is some foul trick."
Gordzin did not take the threat of hills lightly. It was impossible to know when an evil-minded incline might jump out and grab you. He swore to this day he had not fallen down that hill. The tricky little bastard had reached up and grabbed him. Gordzin Hammerheart was not afraid of hills. Well, at least not little ones. As Kyrst strolled on by, he got a hearty slap on the ass from his dwarven squad mate. “It was one time, damn it.” He called after his elven brother. “Us dwarves are not built for sneaking about. World class sprinters? Aye. Genius level intellect? Of course!” Gordzin laughed again. “Everyone knows, wet hills in the rain are a dwarf’s worst enemy. I seem to remember a miss fired arrow or two from our super stealthy elf and ranger.” He slapped his thigh. It was then he noticed the white flag.
He suddenly found himself looking around for hills. Now would just the time for one to strike. Gordzin was not so lucky. The white flag was carried by a thrall of the Dragon that was not supposed to exist. The Scrub Squad fought Uk’ura, even troll, but not Dragons. They were a ragtag group without a home at their best and a disaster away from certain death at their worst. This was certainly not their best day. Of course, Kal sent the man marching back to his scaly master. Brilliant. The first rule to fighting a Dragon was to piss it off. How could that possibly end poorly? Gordzin stroked his bread for perhaps the last time. He was going to miss his bushy friend when Dragon flames ate it away. His good mood was ruined.
Of course, Taneth had a sense a humor. It began to rain. He had just started to forget what it felt like to be constantly soaked. Thankfully, he going to be reminded. Were you really in the Lowland if it wasn’t raining? They could escape the swamp but they could never escape the rain. He raised his voice. “A mountain is just a very large hill, maybe we can get the Dragon to fall down it.” He cracked a smile. He had served in the All-host most of his life. He knew what was coming next. Gordzin began to pray to Elenes. He would need her strength for what was to come. This was far worse than any Uk’ura, Troll, or bear. This was a Surprise Dragon.
Kaldon wasn't above listening to the advice of the men he respected. We're not going to be able to come to peace with the dragon and I'm not overly excited about sending the officers in to be killed before the battle's even started. We'll need every good officer when this begins, he responded to Kyrst. He paused a moment in thought about their course of action, pondering if his friend was right - as he was loathe to simply dismiss wise council - when an officer of the cavalry rode up next to him to present a case.
The truth was, he still wasn't eager to send people into what he saw as needless danger as he saw no version of this where a diplomatic solution was reached which meant the only purpose would have been to buy time for scouting. He wasn't eager to sacrifice officers for that either, but if someone volunteered, he wouldn't stop them.
He turned to the man leading the cavalry unit and gave a nod. Very well, if you wish to go, then go, though you're under no obligation but your own. May the gods watch over you. In the meantime, they would use the time they'd been given and hopefully there would be some information to be gained from what the man saw. He sent an order to have the initial representative from the dragon - the elderly man - stopped so that Dirk could go inside.
His ear caught the sound of Gordzin's voice commenting about the dragon falling down a mountain. Even amidst the situation, the comments brought a half-smile to the corner of his mouth. Aye, isn't that exactly what we want? Or bring the hill down on it?
With the extra time at their disposal, they needed to use it wisely. He pointed to their Valari friend. Can you see if there are any rear exits to the cave that we need to be worried about? If there were other exits the dragua might come out of they needed to know about it now rather than when they had fire pounding down on their heads.
He motioned to Cael and Arryn, who seemed to be traveling together, Inspect the mountain passes and caves from a distance and see if there would be any boulders that might be used to start a rock slide or crush the beast when it leaves its cave. While you're there, see if you can find evidence of others living in the mountain or evidence of their numbers. Waste dumps outside, footprints, or anything that might clue us in as to numbers.
He trusted Kyrst and the others to get bows, ballista, and the other weaponry together and ready to assault the creature when it came out of the mountain and to set up a few of the roped ballistae near the river and conceal some of the others.
Ah...perfect. Aiden turned his face to the sky as the rain started, wondering how many of the solders would be superstitious enough to tie some portent to it. As soldiers around him turned to look at him following his exclamation, Aiden realized he couldn't really let his normal indifference take charge of his actions here. He didn't care about a great many things, but keeping himself was one of the few things he did care about. It was actually near the top of that small list, the very top actually.
Right now he needed these soldiers to stay motivated if he was to come out alive from this encounter with the dragon. Their glorious leader might have sent the dragon's envoy scurrying back to its master, with words that would certainly enrage the oversized lizard. So superstitions scaring the soldiers and harming their chances even more was not something he was going to let happen.
Sighing internally at having to get bothered and actually get involved, he turned to the men around him with a grin on his face and let out a laugh. The gods favor us, they sent us rains to quench the dragon's breath. The gods are on our side, the lizard knows this and hides behind white flags.
As men and women around him heard his words, some nodded in agreement, passing the word on to others around him. Pretty soon the words would be spreading through the ranks. He might not have lead soldiers in some time, but he still knew them. If there was something you could rely on was their superstitions and their love for gossip. They might not believe the crap he had just shouted out, but they would want to believe, believe that some higher force was on their side. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
Letting the men talk among themselves, he made his way to the quartermaster. Armed as he was with sword and whip, he was rather ill equipped to fight a dragon. A bow and arrow would serve him much better in a situation like this. Let the riled up dragon-fodder charge ahead, he would take his lucky shots from afar.
Arryn's jaw tightened as she listened to the events unfold. The dragon had followers; that was the first surprise. She had never thought of dragons as anything more than big, fire-breathing lizards. She had given no thought too their intellect, their ability to gather supporters, or to send said supporters to parlay with them. The ranking officer with the company, however, was quick to put an end to the parlay. Arryn agreed with his reasoning, yet she could feel a lump growing in her throat. To so brazenly tell a dragon to piss off was surely signing one's death warrant. Oddly enough, though, it made her want to be brave and defiant as well.
"That task sounds easy enough," she replied, casting a curious glance at Cael. "Tracking is my speciality. We'll scout ahead, of course, but I feel it prudent to warn you: your little 'message' there might have just cut our time in half. Whatever you're planning, you'd better do it quickly." She looked more fully to Cael now. "C'mon. You heard the man; Let's hop to it."
The path through the trees and into the lower hills at the base of the mountains was wet by the time Arryn set off from the rest of the group. Her movements were unhindered by the drizzle, however, for she was raised in the wilds of Borys and had become accustomed to bad weather. Her job was to scout the mountain pass from a distance—to look for signs of people, signs of weapons (boulders, loose earth, etc.) to hinder the great beast once it appeared. The results of her search were fruitful albeit frightening:
As it happened, there was not just one large cave in these mountains. There were several, spread across the entirety of the area. Any one of them could hide the great dragon. Suspiciously, none of them looked naturally occurring. In fact, they almost seemed... dug out. Perhaps, connected? She couldn't tell. There would be no way for her to determine the scope of the cave system without going inside, but her intuition told her that it carried out much farther from the mountain than she could presently see. Worse, there didn't seem to be anything they could do to cave them in.
Discouraged, but not without hope, she continued to search the area. There were tracks near the cave, much smaller than a dragon's tracks. People? Judging from the looks of them she speculated that there were anywhere from thirty to forty people living within the caves. The size of some of the tracks suggested children were among them.
So, these aren't soldiers, she thought grimly. They're common people.
She inched closer to one of the nearest cave entrances, whereupon she discovered a broken wagon. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was marked with an inscription that showed it was built in Herrat just before the siege. She was about to leave when she felt as though she was being watched. Whirling around, she caught sight of two women watching her from within the mouth of the cave. She reached for her bow, but the women were faster, and they scampered back into the darkened cave before she could silence them. Again her jaw tightened. She considered giving chase, but ultimately decided against it. The rest of the group needed to know what she had found.
She turned around and sprinted off into the woods to report back to the main group.
Standing close by the leadership as they debated their course of action in the face of the zealot of an emissary, head cocked to the side in concentration as he attempted to memorize their words for retelling the events of the day in some far flung tavern, Brynjolf tapped a sharp talon against his bow. The falling rain was beginning to pick up, the pitter-patter of water ringing off metal filling the air. Flexing his wings to better stream the water off his feathers, the valari tried to contain his fidgeting with only mild success. There was something in the wind, a sense that not everything was not as it appeared. It set his beak on edge.
The realization that the commander was looking at him with the air of a man not used to having his orders questioned shook the skald from his revere, and as the words bounced around his mind he snapped his head around to stare at the looming mountain before them. Scout out a dragons lair. Alone. In a storm. He couldn't tell if the emotion surging through his heart was overwhelming fear or overpowering exhilaration. Snapping off a rough Borysian salute with his spetum across his chest, Brynjolf hurled himself into the sky with a great downwars thrust of his powerful wings, knocking back a few soldiers in the immediate area and showering the dwarf, humans, and Drow with a spray of water. A joyous screech tore from deep within his chest as he swept through the storm toward the mountain, echoing through the valley like a cry of defiance in the face of the growing darkness. Shaking the water from his feathered head Brynjolf twisted his body into a tight spiral and dropped like a stone, his keen eyes seeking out the trails and signs of passage through thr woods to the mountain base.
If there were any secret ways into the mountain, he'd find them. He had to.
-----
The rain was coming down harder, rising winds buffeting his wings and forcing the valari to make constant changes to his altitude and path. Cursing every god and spirit under his breath, the skald was ready to call it quits and return to the formation when something caught his eye. Sweeping down into a hard landing on the side of the mountain, Bryn dug his talons into the rock and earth to secure him on the mountainside. It was well hidden, rocks shifted into place and a tarp tied to branches dirtied to match the cliff face. But the entrance was huge; plenty of room for a Dragua to slither his foul hide out of the earth. Moving forward cautiously, the valari reached out with his spetum and lifted the corner of the tarp to peer within the cave mouth...
A pale face stared back at him. A high pitched gasp pierced the air louder than any blast of thunder, the sound of light feet fleeing down the stone path drowning out the rain. Brynjolf blinked but the face was still there; thin and smeared with soot, shining blue eyes, and a hawkish nose. He couldn't have been more than ten. Gripping his spear so tight that the wooden haft creeked beneath the pressure, the skald beat his wings heavily and pushed back off the mountainside, angling back toward the formation.
There were children in the dragua's thrall... Skymother save him. The commander needed to know.
Sigwarld snorted as Alceste stood up and turned towards Kaldon, "Dragons value warriors, not slaves." His tone of voice thickly laced with the disdain he felt for this pathetic excuse of a man. "Falaghar is no real dragon," the proud Borysian and follower of Goroth only paused when Kaldon spoke in reply to the grey servant and was about to continue when Kyrst's muttering caught his attention. He wasn't close enough to overhear, but it was clear that the Drow was inclined to amuse the dragon. Sigwald spat as the first drop of rain began to splatter on Kyrst's face and he imagined it had been his spit instead.
When Kaldon explained his reasoning and gave his orders, Sigwald protested with a loud "Hmpf" and frowned towards the siege machinery. "Parleys, scouting and setting up the ballistae-" he moaned, "-We're going to besiege a mountain as if it's some kind of fortress."
"I shall tell you all what I'm going to do-" the Borysian exclaimed to Kyrst more than to the others, "-I'm going to hunt myself a fat boar so I have something to roast while we wait until the next Dragon Gate opens up."
Sigwald set off in large strides, but just as he thought to clear a hill going into the forest, he tripped and planted his face into a nearby tree in full view of the army. There was no chance he would even get them to form up on his orders ever again. No, Sigwald's role as a leader of men seemed to have ended before it even began.
See? Even dragons could be reasoned with. Surely this creature had some sense of propriety to send out an emmisary in order to parlay for a peaceful resolution of the situation. Vincent chewed his lip, looking at the others. Already there was a split in how everyone wanted to approach this. The tough looking drow seemed to be intent on using the parlay to their advantage while the human seemed utterly disinterested in even playing that card. Vincent would rather avoid any fighting to begin with, not that he had much choice in this situation. Out here he would have to stick with these people or die out in the wilderness.
He sighed, rubbing the side of his head and closed his eyes. At least when it came to the breath of the Dragon he stood some portion of a chance, a pyrokinetic himself and a victim of the curse that made his body so strange; he would be able to handle it. It was the crushing talons, jaws and sheer strength of the beast that made him want to sit down and cry.
"I-I know it's not my place, but perhaps it would not be wrong to hear this Falaghar out." He said meekly, only for the grizzled human to his left to spit on the ground and storm off, grunting something about hunting boar. Vincent winced, holding his hands over his face and hiding his head. He held that pose for an instant before standing up straight and clearing his throat. "J-just because, not-killing is better than killing, right?" He asked.
Insulting a dragon. What a great idea! It can only raze cities and murder hundreds with a single pass of its fiery breath. That's nothing at all when you have the power of Goody Two Shoes and Scrubness on your side. Cael's eyes visibly and obviously rolled at Kal's response to the messenger. He looked at Arryn and gave her a "Really?" look. Sighing, Cael shook his head, but thankfully not everyone seemed so ready to be devoured by the beast.
One of the men volunteered to go inside the cave and see the dragon and parlay with him. Now that was a brave man, but Cael had a feeling for as evil as this dragon was supposed to be, he wasn't going to to up and eat the man during a parlay. After all, people often said Tidetouched were evil or regarded them with the a similar fear and contempt as dragons and the Tide came with the dragons. So maybe this dragon wasn't completely evil. Cael wasn't going to get chummy with it, but he wasn't going to condemn it for what it came into this world as.
Then Kal started to give out orders to some of the people present, as be turned towards Cael and Arryn, the Erodian glanced at his half-elf companion. "Oh, this is going to be good." Kal ordered them to scout the mountain for caves and boulders they could use as well as signs of who had been living there. Arryn seemed much more eager to go as she looked at him and bade him join her. Taking one last look at Kal, he nodded. "Yeah, I heard what Chad said. Let's see what we can find then."
Cael let Arryn lead them up the paths through the trees and over the broken, rocky terrain of the mountainside. The drizzle had slowly grown harder and it had caused the ground and the stones to become somewhat slick. Pulling his hood up to keep his head dry from the rain, the pair of Psions made their way around the mountain scouting the area. Arryn was a master of her trade, though, and she had an almost uncanny ability to spy disturbances in the terrain. She informed him that there was probably a good thirty to forty people down in the cave, and that some of their tracks looked small like children. "Lovely, that means those little angels down there will be hesitant about attacking the dragon."
After awhile they noticed a broken cart, and Arryn's keen elf senses seemed to notice that they were being watched. Turning to face the mouth of the cave Cael could see two women. Before either of them could draw their bows, the women who had been watching them disappeared.
"Well, they know we know they have other routes in and out. I don't know if we have any geomancers, but they'd be perfect right about now... Good job, you're a skilled hunter... you're probably one hell of an assassin." Cael sighed as they turned and began to return to the group.
Making their way back down through hidden mountain paths that only Arryn could see, they made their approach to the rest of the column and their defensive fortifications. "Ready to break the bad news?"
The orders came down to prepare for battle, causing Nymr to cast about apprehensively for her ballista crews. "Bragal! Find us a good place t' hide the beasties, 'til the battle breaks." Shouting the command to one of the loaders, who promptly galloped off to return a few minutes later. "Clearing by the river ma'am. Should work rightly." Nodding, Nymr gave the order and the wagons carrying the siege engines were soon in their new position.
It was hard work, pulling the ballista to the ground, securing them with spikes and pulling the thick cords taught. Stacking heavy bolts, with bodkin heads of hardened steel, hopefully enough to pierce the dragons mail. Arranged to point ahead of the assembled army, ready to be rotated on wheels should need be.
Blankets were tossed over the ballistae and stacks of bolts, five ballista in total. "Send the carts t' the forest opposite, mayhaps they will think the ballista are there." With affirmative nods, a handful of runners took to the transport carts and wheeled off. Looking about, Nymr smiled, their concealment was good, firing fields open, and with a river to their back for easy jumping should the dragon rain fire down upon them.
And so the Scrubs freed us from the Dragua enraged, / raise your mugs and rejoice at the dawn of an age / and if Dragons are eternal, than eternity's done... / for their glory is over, and the Scrub Squad has won.
-Shanty by Rom
Once more unto the breach, dear Scrubs, once more. That seemed to be the motto for the motley crew from Rugnos. "From Rugnos" wasn't even true, though, and only seemed to highlight the differences between them. In truth, despite (mostly) fighting for Rugnos now, the small team came from all corners of Tur with seemingly no connection between them apart from the need to be in the war - by choice, conscription, or something else. Some are born Scrubs, some achieve Scrubness, and some have Scrubness thrust upon them. They'd gone from nobodies that didn't know each other to semi-nobodies that had a bond that ran beyond what most would understand. They were the Scrub Squad and always would be.
Command from higher-ups - the likes of whom Kaldon had never met nor probably wanted to - had deigned that there was a need for the supply lines to be protected. Fine, that was understandable, Kal liked food and water as much as the next person, but in this case he wasn't very excited about what he'd heard: here there be dragons.
Rumor had it that some sort of dragon had settled near the mountains along the edge of the Dark Forest where the roads ran close. Armies camping at the front had been in all sorts of bad situations with a shortage of supplies from these attacks that had left no survivors. With that in mind, command had decided to send their best and brightest out to fight the beast.
Unfortunately, the best and brightest had been killed last week, so instead they got the Scrubs.
So, out they'd "wandered" moving with a full column of Grey Guard, soldiers, and mercenaries at their command. When had that happened? Oh, that was right, despite their bumbling and complete lack of subtlety, they'd somehow managed to survive SURPRISE BEAR, a troll, hill rolls, multiple Uk'ura camps, and more. Apparently someone thought the end product was worth the graceless delivery.
As they approached the area where the dragon had been spotted, Kaldon took in a look at his surroundings. A small river sat to their left and a mountain to their right. The road they marched led down along where the base of the mountains reached the trees, leaving the area covered with large boulders between the trees of the wood, and at the base of the mountain, he could see multiple entrances to what looked like a deep cave system that ran into the mountains.
His hand gripped more tightly around the shaft of his longbow, eyes peeled for their foe. The sun was just slipping over the horizon and soon it would be dark, though only time would tell if that was a blessing or a curse.
"Be careful here, lad-" Sigwald told the much burlier and better equipped Grey Guard that marched alongside him. The former slave had become a conscript that made Grey Guardian. Silently he mused his own legacy as Sigwald the Archer, reborn from frost and the blackness of prison and cursed by Ziatonuth before being cast out by the Dragons he revered. A sad tale, perhaps, but his companions were his wolfpack and he would sooner die than to abandon them. If the rumors were true, he would wrestle back the respect of the dragons by killing one of their kind soon enough. Perhaps then he could finally return home to Hagi.
This time, he couldn't say he wasn't prepared for a good fight. Packing a good longbow, pristine carved arrow heads and the trusted longsword he had been forced to use as a crutch during months of rehabilitation and travelling. His armor consisted of padded leather and goat fur to warm him at night. For the first time in a decade, Sigwald looked like a proper Borysian warrior again. "-there's bears lurking in this forest, black as night with claws strong enough to cleave through the thickest of trees. Heed my words, you'd rather face a Dragon head on than get ambushed by an uncommonly devious bear."
Spotting the entrances what was presumably a cave system, Sigwald suddenly turned around to grin at the dwarf behind him. "Say, Gordzin-" his mauled face looked at odds with the overjoyed look in his eyes, "-Why don't we ask your cousin Under The Mountain if he could help us find this dragon?" pausing, Sigwald's eyes twitched towards the forest, "-and put some ales by the hearth for tonight-" his pleasant tone suddenly dropped to a nervous muttering, "-I grow weary of these trees."
It took Arryn a bit to fully process the events that had brought her to this moment, marching along the edges of the Dark Forest in Rugnos with a cadre of misfits and soldiers who were all following reports of a draconic beast that had been spotted in the area, near Rugnos' supply line. She knew something of the war even though she had never participated; she wasn't even really loyal to Rugnos per say. Her reason for being there was a couple feet in front of her: the Psion, Acaelus Ouros. Cael. Her mentor. Her extremely pervy mentor.
There she had been, chasing the ghosts of family that might not even exist in the woods of Rugnos, when she met him; shortly thereafter, they had been chased south by a elven assassins in pursuit of Cael; and then the rumors of a dragon had reached them and neither one of them had been able to quiet their curiosity. It was an odd turn of events, to be sure, by Arryn had never seen a dragon before. Heard stories, legends, rumors? Sure. But such things were never truly real until one saw them with their own eyes, and she was both excited and fearful to finally see one with her's.
The setting could not have been more ominous. Mountains framed the area immediately to their right; a small, thin river boxed them in on the left. The road upon which they were marching led them towards a very dark-looking swath of trees marking the outer edges of the aforementioned Dark Forest; and there was, what appeared to be, a system of caves along the base of the hills. A perfect place to hide, she supposed, if things truly went south.
Or a good place to be buried, she thought morbidly.
She cast a wary glance at Cael. He was more prepared for this than her. He was trained to use his magic in combat, whereas she had only just started her training. Then again, if the legends were true, his magic would be pretty much useless against a dragon. That left them with their other skills, and Arryn was far more confident in her bow than anything else. She sighed, a heavy, deep sigh.
And, with a self-deprecating smirk, she thought, Well, to go out fighting a dragon isn't the worst way I can imagine. It even sounds... a bit heroic.
Never trust a horse. They were willy creatures more likely to throw you off then listen to a damn thing you had to say. If there was one thing Gordzin had learn in life, it was your own two feet were better than a tricky beast. Unless, your feet betrayed you and you ended up rolling down a hill. That had only happened to him once or twice. It certainly wouldn’t happen a third time. Still more trustworthy than a horse. Fortunately, his feet were attached to two stout dwarven legs. Perfect for long marches and quick sprints. Gordzin was one happy dwarf as long as he wasn’t forced into cross country running.
He found himself marching alongside a column of Grey Guards tasked with protecting the Rugnos supply lines. He still wondered how in the name of Elenes they had gotten here. The aptly named Scrub Squad had botched one mission after the other. They barely escaped each time with their lives. He had watched Kal loose misguided arrows, Kyrst stumbled about in the dark, Nymr fall down fighting trolls, and Sigwald be mauled by a shockingly sudden bear. Of course, most embarrassingly, Gordzin had rolled down a hill in the heat of battle. After each mission, they returned to camps to find their legend growing.
The mighty Scrub Squad climbed the ranks. He had no idea what the Rugnos command saw. He suspected they so lacked for commanders that the Squad was the only choice left. So it was, they had been given command of this rag tag group searching for a dragon. He prayed to Taneth it was rumor and nothing more. Dwarves were easily flammable. Gordzin should have been riding a horse, shouting commands, but you can’t trust a horse. Instead, he walked alongside his best friends with Oathkeeper slung on his back. He loved Sigal, Kal, Nymr, and Kyrst like family. They were strange, unlucky, fools, but family. Gordzin cracked a smile and laughed as Sigwald turned around.
“Aye, we aren’t all related, and we don’t all live in caves.” His mischievous smile widened. “Besides, I hear bears make their homes in the mountains around these parts. I’ve pulled you from the brink of death enough times, thank you very much.” He eyed the trees around them. He had had enough of the forest. “I’d feel safer with stone and snow beneath by feet. But this is better than the damnable swamp.” He laughed again. There would be no dragon. It was a silly human suspicion. They would never send the Scrub Squad if there was an actual dragon.
Walking alongside the band of soldiers and their somewhat infamous leaders, Brynjolf couldn't help but reflect on the endless trouble that his curiosity seems to lead him to. Caves rumored to contain tombs and reliquaries from the distant past? Swarming with undead. A tower where men had charted the wheeling of the heavens for many centuries? A temporary barracks for a cadre of *very* unfriendly mage hunters from House Toden. A beautiful young elf maiden wishing to hear another song in a more... private setting? Beloved wife of the local Jarl.
And now he was walking down a soldiers road surrounded by the Rugnast military, trusty sword at his hip and polearm swung up against his shoulder, a full quiver nestled between his wings, a stout yew bow clenched in his free talon, and the weight of his best armor settled easily against his anthropromorphic form on his way to fight a drauga. A Spirits damned dragon. Shaking his feathered head ruefully, Brynjolf increased his pace to stand just behind the grizzled human and dwarf bantering back and forth. Laughing at their antics, Brynjolf quietly sang to himself as he pondered how he'd construct the tale of their victory over the Drauga.
"They fought the dragon, and rode home to feast / to waiting maidens - two apiece! / They drank and sung and toasted in awe... / Not one had fell to the Drauga's maw!"
The griffon considered himself an optimist.
Walking along with the rest of the massive column of soldiers, Cael did his best to blend in. Just because they were on the warfront didn't mean he was going to trust all of these people he didn't know that he was a mage. There was still a stigma, after all, a fear of mages that, in his mind anyways, was silly. So, to prevent any potential issues, Cael had changed his wardrobe to match that of Arryn; the garb of a hunter, now mixed with some of the clothing of a soldier. His clothing was spartan and drab.
Glancing at Arryn, the Erodian Psion wondered how amusing it was how they had gotten to where they were. After meeting in the Anari forest the pair managed to find their way south east until they came to Helmut's pass, all because of a rumor on dragons, and the need to avoid civilized areas for a while; he wanted to let things cool off for a minute after his last job. For Cael it had been rather fun, equal parts teaching and teasing the half-elf all the way down to the Lowlands. "You think you're ready?" He asked Arryn, meaning both themselves and the army. "With five thousand souls and siege ballista I would hope we can take whatever dragon is down here."
Having never seen a dragon of any kind before, Cael had immediately volunteered as one of the sellswords to go see and fight a dragon. It seemed foolhardy, but in the massed pack of soldiers seemed like the best way to go about it. Plus, who knows, maybe they'd actually contribute to killing the thing. He somewhat doubted it, though, after all, they were just two lowly psions with swords and bows and daggers in an army of war engines and heroes.
With the sun setting and dark storm clouds rolling overhead, Cael listened to the singing of a nearby Valari who looked like a Griffon. The... creature? Bird? Whatever it was had a decent singing voice, and tune inspired confidence. "Well, this should be a whole lot of fun. One to tell your kids about, right?" He smirked as he nudged Arryn playfully.
Kyrst had a bad feeling about this.
To be honest, his bad feeling prefaced almost every adventure he had set out on with Scrub Squad. They had always set out with the best of intentions, seemingly prepared to take on the day only to have the most bizarre obstacles hinder their path. Today made him especially nervous due to the rumors surrounding a beast of a draconic nature. Though there had been news that dragonkin had joined the fray on the Uk’ura side, it had always seemed like a concept far removed from where they were.
Reports came in of swaths of dead soldiers and the manner of their deaths spoke volumes about the type of monster that could have done it. There was a sinking feeling inside as Kyrst trudged along next to what more or less had become family. He grinned as he heard the light banter between Sigwald and Gordzin. The Drow picked up pace to align with the dwarf, “Well, looks like there are plenty of hills around here,” He had to bite on his lip to keep the grin off his face.
With him, the Drow brought a unit of soldiers that specialized in artillery. Just as a precaution, they had brought with them several ballistae prepared to fire giant bolts should there truly be a fight on their hands. As the sun began to disappear over the horizon, the strain on his eyes eased off significantly. Much to his dismay, however, the clouds began to churn above, growing dark and ominous. The evening would bring thunderstorms, and that further perpetuated the bad feeling he was getting.
“Doing all right, Nym?” He called over to the woman that had come a long way with them. They had a rocky start mainly due to the animosity between Kyrst and Sigwald, but all of that was old news now. The Drow made his way towards along the base of the mountain, his keen eyes not picking up any suspicious movement yet. He did notice other new faces joining the party though. For now, he said nothing, waiting to see how they’d react to having a Drow amongst them.
"Reports of some...draconic beast have been made. Normally I wouldn't poke at such a rumor. But I have my orders, and it's too close to the supply lines for comfort. You have a history with such things, take a patrol and attach yourselves to the main force being sent to investigate. Dismissed."
And that was how Dirk found himself at the head of a twenty-horse heavy cavalry patrol. Each of them and their horses were heavily armored. Dirk had a variety of weapons, broadsword, lance, war axe. A dagger. A soft rain fell, pattering on the ground and on their armor. Dirt turned to mud mixed with pine needles, broken twigs, and other forest detritus. Their horses seemed to care little, their shod hooves bit into the ground uncaring of the composition.
His horse snorted as rain trickled into its nose. A drage, that's what he suspected. They would certainly be able to take down such a beast, with their numbers it was a given. The column eventually drew to a halt in front of a cave system. He raised a clenched fist to tell his men to stop, while he trotted his horse ahead to meet with a group that seemed to be having a discussion about bears, and the concern that there might be one around. "Between you and me, I wouldn't mind a bear showing up. That's some rich, juicy meat. Serve it piping hot off a fire with a tankard of ale, a slice of warm bread, and you've got a damn fine meal," he said as he slid his visor up. "Are we making camp here?" he asked. The caves would be a nice shelter for their animals and gear. Rust was an annoying enemy to fight.
What in all the gods names was Vincent even doing here? He could not even fathom for the life of him why he had chosen this particular group to pair up with. They had seemed "competent" at least in appearance. Yet as soon as they had gotten underway it had been nothing short of one disaster after another. Vincent rubbed his face from beneath the water proofed hood he was wearing. Now they were going to stand off against some manner of Dragon?!
"What am I doing?" He whined, looking down at the rather simple looking sword on his hip.
Fear crawled up and down his back as he looked at the killing tool. He hated fighting, he was terrified of it, hurting people and getting hurt himself was something just so incomprehensible that he could hardly stomach the very idea. Now he was with a band of soldiers. Most of the men in the large company wore this terrifying grey armor and each of them seemed to be more like machines than men, marching in perfect lines. Even so, there was a strangely refreshing sense of comraderie among the soldiers. Were they trained to be friends with one another as well?
Vincent picked up his pace as he realized he was falling behind, only to feel the first droplets of water strike the leather gloves he had put on to protect his skin from the elements. He managed to catch the end of some topic on food.
"I-I can cook a bit, if you like! As thanks for taking me along." He still hadn't the foggiest idea that he had been conscripted back in that brief encounter a few days before.
Aiden hummed away to himself as his horse trudged along with the company. People were speaking all around him, words tinted with fear, awe, excitement, bravado, and more than a fair share of stupidity. The words they spoke were mostly useless gibberish to him, but the emotions behind them told him a great deal more. He sensed the familiarity they had with each other, the trust they placed in those leading them, and the sometimes reluctant but still present belief they placed in the decisions those leaders had made to bring them here.
He wondered what they would think of him, not becuase he fears or worried about what they would think, but the process of looking at someone and imagining how they would react to someone like him had become a game for him. He didn't have much to entertain himself, after all he knew almost no one here. The one person he did know, the stupid bard who was partly responsible for Aiden being here was presently in some other part of the company.
As for why he was here, well that was simple. Having lost everything he owned after his exile, he had been forced to look for means to look for ways to entertain himself and to keep himself fed. The bard had shared a druken tale with him about dragon semen being a key ingredient for some dark magic, and in certain circles it would sell for a fortune. A Kings fortune. He didn't know how true the story was, specially when on pressing the bard had revealed that the spells it was used for were mostly used by old men to increase their verility, but he was bored enough to be willing to find out.
Nymr had a bad feeling about the day to come. Her luck had been horrible the night before, she had lost every game of dice and cards that she had gambled on, even when she cheated. She had awoken hungover, alone, with ants crawling in her bedroll. The unwelcome bed companions must have been with her all night, and they had been biters too, the skin under her armor itching something fierce. It took all she had to not rip the leathers and steel off to scratch the relentless irritation.
Marching along, as they had been for hours, the Grey Guard looked to be an intimidating force. Nymr still wondered how such a ragged band of misfits who often accomplished their missions through luck and happenstance rather than skill had managed to get swept up into the ranks of the Grey Guard. It didn't matter though, she had a ballista again, glancing over at the sleek war machine of polished wood and steel, oiled ropes and cables slack, not yet set with force upon them.
Kyrst, the dark elf, called out to her, drawing a smile. "Aye I be alright. Be bette' than alright if i had me some o' that feast and ale the Birdmans singin' 'bout. Wouldn't mind a pair o' them maidens either." Laughing to ease the foreboding that had filled her since the morning.
They'd used up the length of the sun in their marching - now it set, the beginnings of a rainstorm causing the hairs all over her body to prickle. She was lucky, of course. Apart from vials of fiery blood and scales, strange and igneous, she'd never seen a dragon before. Now her heart was in her mouth, thumping to get out and run away in the direction they'd came.
The stranger hung back, near the horse-line, drawing comfort from the warmth emanating from their flanks. Drawing attention from no one. Just another mercenary. Nothing to see here.
All the easier for her to run, if it came to that.
The cacophony of beating hooves tore through the canopy of the dense wood, the argent rays of the moon falling through the only patches bare of leaves and branches overhead. The slavers were now down to a mere score of men, eleven on horseback with one guiding the wagon filled with the night's bounty. The taken villagers cried and screamed for help, some still stunned at the horrors these men had brought to their small village. A young boy, pressed against the rear of the cage, cried out to the town's legendary guardian as tears mixed with the blood only now tapering from the wound at his brow. The slavers laughed at the boy, knowing that there never was such a savior for these wretched chattel.
As the men began to boast of their foul deeds that night, the wood opened to a gentle hill half a mile to the Golgorian Bridge. Once they had crossed they would be free of reprisal, having returned to their home country. Only one of the men noticed something wrong, though, that despite the absence of the forest they were still shrouded in the dark. Something still cast a shadow upon them, moving at their speed and large enough to block out the moon. He looked up, the first to see the awesome sight of the giant reptilian creature before it dove down at them with a great beat of it's wings.
In one dive the Dragon claimed the lives of three of them, titanic jaws rending flesh and snapping bone before lifting back to the sky. The survivors rallied quick enough, forcing their horses even faster as they made for the bridge. Surely they would be safe if they made it, they would be home and the money they would make from these villagers would set them for life. Even as the dragon descended again, taking another two men with it's back claws and throwing a wayward horse at a third, they only thought of how little they would have to share the money with the survivors. Just a few more yards, a scant few seconds, and they would be free.
With a sudden crash the Dragon demolished the bridge, diving straight down to crash the ancient stone deep into the chasm. It was too late for the point man, his sliding horse tumbling into the abyss as the rest managed to stop right at the edge. They were too scared to peer down the blackness of the Golgorian Divide, even without the dragon superstition held that the God of the Dead took the soul of any foolish enough to peer into his domain. They paused to ponder their next course, which would spell their doom.
Rising from the chasm, two scaled arms gripping the soil as it pulled itself above the cliff face, the Dragon gave a baleful glare to all of the surviving slavers. The moon accented the silver lines in an otherwise crimson hide, wings now folded against it's back as it turned it's golden eyes from one man to the next. No one seemed brave enough to even breath, the silence of the night absolute for what seemed an eternity. The moment was shattered by the sob of the boy, grateful to tears that his prayer to the guardian had been answered.
With a great draw of breath, the Dragon let loose it's fiery wave over the men who had caused all this destruction and despair. The flame moved at the intent of it's creator, sparing the wagon while claiming the driver and all those who had evil in their hearts. Flesh gave way to bone, until only ash remained. Just as suddenly as they had come to slaughter and pillage, they were now as dead as the rest back in the burning town. Even though lives had been lost, Falaghar the Adamant had saved those he had sworn to protect.
Pulling himself up the rest of the way, the ground shook as he lumbered to the wagon. With one great claw he rent the iron enough for an opening, the townspeople cheering his name as they jumped to their freedom. They clambered around his great form, patting and hugging what parts of his legs and arms they could reach. "Oh, our savior and protector, how can we ever repay you for our lives this day?"
A glint in his eye came with a smile, the Dragon laying down so he could be better reached by their little limbs. "Mine charges, I have saved you this day. However, the act was quite taxing." His voice boomed out even as he tried to keep it low, knowing the full strength of even his vocal cords could render one of these mortals deaf for a spell. "My muscles ache. Afore I return you home, I would request...release from this, and more." The people swarmed him then, arms reaching out to wherevery they could find purchase, eager to please their Guardian in any way-
~~~
The man stopped reading, looking at the flushed face of his compatriot who had just barged into the large chamber with the two of them. Falaghar opened an eye, giving the newcomer and irritated glare at the interruption. He was quite enjoying this story, his flights of fancy being the only things that seemed to entertain him these days. His mind and body were just getting ready for the good part to come, one of the ways the great creature found to relieve the stress of when he had to leave the safety of his caves to the outside world. Of which he had done just that, recently attacking a mortal supply caravan so his followers could eat.
"A thousand pardons, great and merciful Falaghar. There is an army massing outside our home, they seem to be several thousand strong. They also have siege engines, ballistae specifically." Even though the aging man knew this was something Falaghar needed to hear, there was still a good chance he would be punished for his transgression. There weren't a great many rules for living with and serving the great Dragua, though one of them was to not interrupt the daily reading.
"Oh, for the love of...This must be some sort of reprisal for the goods I took from them. They should be honored that their supplies went to feed and clothe the great Falaghar and his charges. I swear, the more time I spend with you mortals the less I understand any of you. You seem adamant to fight against the natural order of the world." He stretched, the warm feeling he had been savoring in his body fading as the wonderful daydream disappeared into his subconscious. Great, now he would have to make the reading boy start all over again, though even THAT wouldn't guarantee the same effect.
"Vincent, return the book to the shelf and go join your parents in their quarters. Alceste, let's see if we can end this like civilized beings." The messenger moved closer as the boy put the book back on the shelf before running off down a side passage. The caves were large enough to house an entire town's worth of people, of which that was exactly how many followers Falaghar had managed to gain over the years since arriving through the Dragon Gate. "Take this message to their leader, and be sure to use the white flag carefully so you aren't shot by a trigger happy human. Now, tell them this..."
~~~
"HEY, I COME TO BEAR A MESSAGE FOR YOUR LEADERS!!" Alceste raised the large white cloth above his head, waving it before showing any of his body to make sure a nervous bowman didn't kill him. Confident he wouldn't be slain, he gingerly stepped out of hiding and walked slowly towards the army. He made sure to show them he wasn't armed, even as he was taken by the force a distance from one of the cave entrance. "Ow, please, not so hard. I am an old man and I break easily!"
After making sure he was indeed of no threat, one of the Grey Guardsmen brought him to the group running this force, nearly shoving Alceste at their feet. "Quite the manners in this group I see. Well, not matter, I suppose it is to be expected from the unenlightened." standing up straight, the gray-haired man gave each of them a gaze of his watery blue eyes, an intelligent glint in the look coupled with a hint of insanity. Anyone having worked with a zealous scholar would have seen the same thing in their eyes.
Alceste stroked his beard before speaking, focusing on the one he assumed was their leader. "I am Alceste of the Followers of Falaghar. My master would like to parley with your army to see if we could resolve this matter without bloodshed. I will guide you to him and if trust is an issue you may bring any number of you to bask in his glory and hear his words. I am also to act as a hostage, so the second you feel your lives threatened you may end mine as needed." He seemed to speak so callously about dying, as if this wasn't the first time this conversation had happened. "Please decide who will come speak with His Most Magnanimous, the day is wearing on quite quickly."
Kaldon was undeterred by the man's vague insults about manners. They were an army and for all intents and purposes, this man was the enemy. Somehow, Kal had stumbled into being the highest rank here so it became his role to make the decision about parlaying... apparently. He shot a sideways glance at Kyrst, who actually had more military experience of the two of them (with being so old and all) but he couldn't imagine a world in which parlaying with a dragua was a good idea.
If everything he'd ever heard or read about the creatures were true, they were cunning. Far more so than he wanted to contend with, and some stories even said they could control the minds of others, though he had his doubts about that particular aspect. Still, if this man - who seemed a little crazy - was any indication, he couldn't discount the thought completely. Not to mention, any number of men he'd take with him as an envoy wouldn't be enough to stand up to the creature. No, everything about this screamed "ploy to kill the leadership and leave the army in disarray."
There has already been bloodshed. We do not come to treat with Falaghar, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: his armies and followers must disband; he is to depart these lands never to return. Telling a dragua to piss right off was a first for him, but he remained firm. Assuming Kyrst had nothing to add, the man would be escorted to the front of the column and sent back with the wonderful message.
He trusted that amidst the darkening skies, Kyrst would be able to tell them if he saw movement beyond in the caves as they waited. He couldn't imagine that this would be very well received but that didn't mean they would just wait. The man would need to travel back to the caves to alert his master before the rage began. In the meantime, the army was preparing. Ballistas were loaded. Some tips were coated with poisons others were packed with a crude others still had thick ropes attached for restraining the monster.
As he watched it unfold, he moved away from the spot of the initial parlay in case that position was fed back to the drake and he came out against that location with a vengeance. If they were going to win this fight, conventional mean wasn't going to win the day, they needed to be smarter or they'd all die. What a happy thought....
Kyrst had to bite back from his knee jerk response of nocking an arrow as he saw a figure approach from the distance. He remained silent, walking up to stand next to Kaldon. Rank wise in the Grey Guard, Kaldon was the highest commanding officer here. Kyrst was second in command, leading the artillery units. For the time being, he simply observed, picking up every detail on this man. The Drow didn’t miss the little glint in his eye and the almost outlandish behavior he possessed. What drove this man? What caused him to serve a dragua above any lord or lady? What did he have to gain from this?
As he spoke, Kyrst was about to mutter something about allowing time and getting to know this man. However, Kal already spoke, quickly shutting the door on the man’s face. The Drow grimaced slightly, his jaw tightening. He had an uneasy feeling about so abruptly and brashly going into battle with an enemy they didn’t know. Kyrst shifted closer to Kal, muttering so only he could hear, “Should we be so brash? We have yet to know what kind of forces this dragua has at its disposal.”
At the same time, Kyrst also wasn’t stupid enough to believe that walking to find the dragua wouldn’t be a trap. The Drow glanced back at his men, giving them the nod to get into position. The ballistae were prepared with ropes, and men prepared their bows and arrows. He glanced all around at the others that joined them on the field today. He silently hoped they weren’t all doomed by their decision.
Kyrst followed Kal, “This is going to be a problem. This isn’t some mere beast. This dragon has minions and servants devoted to it. Blind loyalty is a terrifying enemy to overcome. If it comes to open battle, we cannot afford to show any mercy.”
He blinked and looked up as the first drops of rain began to splatter across his face.
Dirk's jaw tightened in distaste as the dragon-worshiper was brought before them. The man was almost singing the praises of his disgusting master. He stared at the decrepit man before them. Willing to be killed for his master? It was a calculating move, no doubt. This man was too old to be of any serious use for the dragon. He could not fight effectively. If they killed this messenger, it would be of no loss to the Dragon. Were Dirk's visor not covering his face, he would spit.
Yet he too disagreed with Kaldon's hasty rejection. This was a serious problem, it was not some drage that they were after. If this creature had followers, they needed to know how many. "Heretic he and his master may be, but he was sent to parlay under a white banner," Dirk intoned from behind his helm. He hated it, but there was a certain formality to the process. Plus, they needed to know more. "I for one am...curious about this Falaghar," he spat the name as if it was a curse. "Nor is it wise to spurn an enemy we have yet to meet."
He brought his horse closer to Kaldon, casting a sidelong glance at the rocky mouth as he did so. How deep in was the monster? Could it send its fearsome breath down the tunnel and roast the lot of them right then and there? "Sir, send me and keep the messenger here, just like you would if the damned Uk'ura parlayed before a battle. I can report what I see. I have faith that Bamot will guide me safely."
He lowered his voice. "You would have the time to send scouts across the land and find a battlesite that favors us against that monster's minions. At the very least we can establish a perimeter if this is some foul trick."
Gordzin did not take the threat of hills lightly. It was impossible to know when an evil-minded incline might jump out and grab you. He swore to this day he had not fallen down that hill. The tricky little bastard had reached up and grabbed him. Gordzin Hammerheart was not afraid of hills. Well, at least not little ones. As Kyrst strolled on by, he got a hearty slap on the ass from his dwarven squad mate. “It was one time, damn it.” He called after his elven brother. “Us dwarves are not built for sneaking about. World class sprinters? Aye. Genius level intellect? Of course!” Gordzin laughed again. “Everyone knows, wet hills in the rain are a dwarf’s worst enemy. I seem to remember a miss fired arrow or two from our super stealthy elf and ranger.” He slapped his thigh. It was then he noticed the white flag.
He suddenly found himself looking around for hills. Now would just the time for one to strike. Gordzin was not so lucky. The white flag was carried by a thrall of the Dragon that was not supposed to exist. The Scrub Squad fought Uk’ura, even troll, but not Dragons. They were a ragtag group without a home at their best and a disaster away from certain death at their worst. This was certainly not their best day. Of course, Kal sent the man marching back to his scaly master. Brilliant. The first rule to fighting a Dragon was to piss it off. How could that possibly end poorly? Gordzin stroked his bread for perhaps the last time. He was going to miss his bushy friend when Dragon flames ate it away. His good mood was ruined.
Of course, Taneth had a sense a humor. It began to rain. He had just started to forget what it felt like to be constantly soaked. Thankfully, he going to be reminded. Were you really in the Lowland if it wasn’t raining? They could escape the swamp but they could never escape the rain. He raised his voice. “A mountain is just a very large hill, maybe we can get the Dragon to fall down it.” He cracked a smile. He had served in the All-host most of his life. He knew what was coming next. Gordzin began to pray to Elenes. He would need her strength for what was to come. This was far worse than any Uk’ura, Troll, or bear. This was a Surprise Dragon.
Kaldon wasn't above listening to the advice of the men he respected. We're not going to be able to come to peace with the dragon and I'm not overly excited about sending the officers in to be killed before the battle's even started. We'll need every good officer when this begins, he responded to Kyrst. He paused a moment in thought about their course of action, pondering if his friend was right - as he was loathe to simply dismiss wise council - when an officer of the cavalry rode up next to him to present a case.
The truth was, he still wasn't eager to send people into what he saw as needless danger as he saw no version of this where a diplomatic solution was reached which meant the only purpose would have been to buy time for scouting. He wasn't eager to sacrifice officers for that either, but if someone volunteered, he wouldn't stop them.
He turned to the man leading the cavalry unit and gave a nod. Very well, if you wish to go, then go, though you're under no obligation but your own. May the gods watch over you. In the meantime, they would use the time they'd been given and hopefully there would be some information to be gained from what the man saw. He sent an order to have the initial representative from the dragon - the elderly man - stopped so that Dirk could go inside.
His ear caught the sound of Gordzin's voice commenting about the dragon falling down a mountain. Even amidst the situation, the comments brought a half-smile to the corner of his mouth. Aye, isn't that exactly what we want? Or bring the hill down on it?
With the extra time at their disposal, they needed to use it wisely. He pointed to their Valari friend. Can you see if there are any rear exits to the cave that we need to be worried about? If there were other exits the dragua might come out of they needed to know about it now rather than when they had fire pounding down on their heads.
He motioned to Cael and Arryn, who seemed to be traveling together, Inspect the mountain passes and caves from a distance and see if there would be any boulders that might be used to start a rock slide or crush the beast when it leaves its cave. While you're there, see if you can find evidence of others living in the mountain or evidence of their numbers. Waste dumps outside, footprints, or anything that might clue us in as to numbers.
He trusted Kyrst and the others to get bows, ballista, and the other weaponry together and ready to assault the creature when it came out of the mountain and to set up a few of the roped ballistae near the river and conceal some of the others.
Ah...perfect. Aiden turned his face to the sky as the rain started, wondering how many of the solders would be superstitious enough to tie some portent to it. As soldiers around him turned to look at him following his exclamation, Aiden realized he couldn't really let his normal indifference take charge of his actions here. He didn't care about a great many things, but keeping himself was one of the few things he did care about. It was actually near the top of that small list, the very top actually.
Right now he needed these soldiers to stay motivated if he was to come out alive from this encounter with the dragon. Their glorious leader might have sent the dragon's envoy scurrying back to its master, with words that would certainly enrage the oversized lizard. So superstitions scaring the soldiers and harming their chances even more was not something he was going to let happen.
Sighing internally at having to get bothered and actually get involved, he turned to the men around him with a grin on his face and let out a laugh. The gods favor us, they sent us rains to quench the dragon's breath. The gods are on our side, the lizard knows this and hides behind white flags.
As men and women around him heard his words, some nodded in agreement, passing the word on to others around him. Pretty soon the words would be spreading through the ranks. He might not have lead soldiers in some time, but he still knew them. If there was something you could rely on was their superstitions and their love for gossip. They might not believe the crap he had just shouted out, but they would want to believe, believe that some higher force was on their side. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
Letting the men talk among themselves, he made his way to the quartermaster. Armed as he was with sword and whip, he was rather ill equipped to fight a dragon. A bow and arrow would serve him much better in a situation like this. Let the riled up dragon-fodder charge ahead, he would take his lucky shots from afar.
Arryn's jaw tightened as she listened to the events unfold. The dragon had followers; that was the first surprise. She had never thought of dragons as anything more than big, fire-breathing lizards. She had given no thought too their intellect, their ability to gather supporters, or to send said supporters to parlay with them. The ranking officer with the company, however, was quick to put an end to the parlay. Arryn agreed with his reasoning, yet she could feel a lump growing in her throat. To so brazenly tell a dragon to piss off was surely signing one's death warrant. Oddly enough, though, it made her want to be brave and defiant as well.
"That task sounds easy enough," she replied, casting a curious glance at Cael. "Tracking is my speciality. We'll scout ahead, of course, but I feel it prudent to warn you: your little 'message' there might have just cut our time in half. Whatever you're planning, you'd better do it quickly." She looked more fully to Cael now. "C'mon. You heard the man; Let's hop to it."
The path through the trees and into the lower hills at the base of the mountains was wet by the time Arryn set off from the rest of the group. Her movements were unhindered by the drizzle, however, for she was raised in the wilds of Borys and had become accustomed to bad weather. Her job was to scout the mountain pass from a distance—to look for signs of people, signs of weapons (boulders, loose earth, etc.) to hinder the great beast once it appeared. The results of her search were fruitful albeit frightening:
As it happened, there was not just one large cave in these mountains. There were several, spread across the entirety of the area. Any one of them could hide the great dragon. Suspiciously, none of them looked naturally occurring. In fact, they almost seemed... dug out. Perhaps, connected? She couldn't tell. There would be no way for her to determine the scope of the cave system without going inside, but her intuition told her that it carried out much farther from the mountain than she could presently see. Worse, there didn't seem to be anything they could do to cave them in.
Discouraged, but not without hope, she continued to search the area. There were tracks near the cave, much smaller than a dragon's tracks. People? Judging from the looks of them she speculated that there were anywhere from thirty to forty people living within the caves. The size of some of the tracks suggested children were among them.
So, these aren't soldiers, she thought grimly. They're common people.
She inched closer to one of the nearest cave entrances, whereupon she discovered a broken wagon. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it was marked with an inscription that showed it was built in Herrat just before the siege. She was about to leave when she felt as though she was being watched. Whirling around, she caught sight of two women watching her from within the mouth of the cave. She reached for her bow, but the women were faster, and they scampered back into the darkened cave before she could silence them. Again her jaw tightened. She considered giving chase, but ultimately decided against it. The rest of the group needed to know what she had found.
She turned around and sprinted off into the woods to report back to the main group.
Standing close by the leadership as they debated their course of action in the face of the zealot of an emissary, head cocked to the side in concentration as he attempted to memorize their words for retelling the events of the day in some far flung tavern, Brynjolf tapped a sharp talon against his bow. The falling rain was beginning to pick up, the pitter-patter of water ringing off metal filling the air. Flexing his wings to better stream the water off his feathers, the valari tried to contain his fidgeting with only mild success. There was something in the wind, a sense that not everything was not as it appeared. It set his beak on edge.
The realization that the commander was looking at him with the air of a man not used to having his orders questioned shook the skald from his revere, and as the words bounced around his mind he snapped his head around to stare at the looming mountain before them. Scout out a dragons lair. Alone. In a storm. He couldn't tell if the emotion surging through his heart was overwhelming fear or overpowering exhilaration. Snapping off a rough Borysian salute with his spetum across his chest, Brynjolf hurled himself into the sky with a great downwars thrust of his powerful wings, knocking back a few soldiers in the immediate area and showering the dwarf, humans, and Drow with a spray of water. A joyous screech tore from deep within his chest as he swept through the storm toward the mountain, echoing through the valley like a cry of defiance in the face of the growing darkness. Shaking the water from his feathered head Brynjolf twisted his body into a tight spiral and dropped like a stone, his keen eyes seeking out the trails and signs of passage through thr woods to the mountain base.
If there were any secret ways into the mountain, he'd find them. He had to.
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The rain was coming down harder, rising winds buffeting his wings and forcing the valari to make constant changes to his altitude and path. Cursing every god and spirit under his breath, the skald was ready to call it quits and return to the formation when something caught his eye. Sweeping down into a hard landing on the side of the mountain, Bryn dug his talons into the rock and earth to secure him on the mountainside. It was well hidden, rocks shifted into place and a tarp tied to branches dirtied to match the cliff face. But the entrance was huge; plenty of room for a Dragua to slither his foul hide out of the earth. Moving forward cautiously, the valari reached out with his spetum and lifted the corner of the tarp to peer within the cave mouth...
A pale face stared back at him. A high pitched gasp pierced the air louder than any blast of thunder, the sound of light feet fleeing down the stone path drowning out the rain. Brynjolf blinked but the face was still there; thin and smeared with soot, shining blue eyes, and a hawkish nose. He couldn't have been more than ten. Gripping his spear so tight that the wooden haft creeked beneath the pressure, the skald beat his wings heavily and pushed back off the mountainside, angling back toward the formation.
There were children in the dragua's thrall... Skymother save him. The commander needed to know.
Sigwarld snorted as Alceste stood up and turned towards Kaldon, "Dragons value warriors, not slaves." His tone of voice thickly laced with the disdain he felt for this pathetic excuse of a man. "Falaghar is no real dragon," the proud Borysian and follower of Goroth only paused when Kaldon spoke in reply to the grey servant and was about to continue when Kyrst's muttering caught his attention. He wasn't close enough to overhear, but it was clear that the Drow was inclined to amuse the dragon. Sigwald spat as the first drop of rain began to splatter on Kyrst's face and he imagined it had been his spit instead.
When Kaldon explained his reasoning and gave his orders, Sigwald protested with a loud "Hmpf" and frowned towards the siege machinery. "Parleys, scouting and setting up the ballistae-" he moaned, "-We're going to besiege a mountain as if it's some kind of fortress."
"I shall tell you all what I'm going to do-" the Borysian exclaimed to Kyrst more than to the others, "-I'm going to hunt myself a fat boar so I have something to roast while we wait until the next Dragon Gate opens up."
Sigwald set off in large strides, but just as he thought to clear a hill going into the forest, he tripped and planted his face into a nearby tree in full view of the army. There was no chance he would even get them to form up on his orders ever again. No, Sigwald's role as a leader of men seemed to have ended before it even began.
See? Even dragons could be reasoned with. Surely this creature had some sense of propriety to send out an emmisary in order to parlay for a peaceful resolution of the situation. Vincent chewed his lip, looking at the others. Already there was a split in how everyone wanted to approach this. The tough looking drow seemed to be intent on using the parlay to their advantage while the human seemed utterly disinterested in even playing that card. Vincent would rather avoid any fighting to begin with, not that he had much choice in this situation. Out here he would have to stick with these people or die out in the wilderness.
He sighed, rubbing the side of his head and closed his eyes. At least when it came to the breath of the Dragon he stood some portion of a chance, a pyrokinetic himself and a victim of the curse that made his body so strange; he would be able to handle it. It was the crushing talons, jaws and sheer strength of the beast that made him want to sit down and cry.
"I-I know it's not my place, but perhaps it would not be wrong to hear this Falaghar out." He said meekly, only for the grizzled human to his left to spit on the ground and storm off, grunting something about hunting boar. Vincent winced, holding his hands over his face and hiding his head. He held that pose for an instant before standing up straight and clearing his throat. "J-just because, not-killing is better than killing, right?" He asked.
Insulting a dragon. What a great idea! It can only raze cities and murder hundreds with a single pass of its fiery breath. That's nothing at all when you have the power of Goody Two Shoes and Scrubness on your side. Cael's eyes visibly and obviously rolled at Kal's response to the messenger. He looked at Arryn and gave her a "Really?" look. Sighing, Cael shook his head, but thankfully not everyone seemed so ready to be devoured by the beast.
One of the men volunteered to go inside the cave and see the dragon and parlay with him. Now that was a brave man, but Cael had a feeling for as evil as this dragon was supposed to be, he wasn't going to to up and eat the man during a parlay. After all, people often said Tidetouched were evil or regarded them with the a similar fear and contempt as dragons and the Tide came with the dragons. So maybe this dragon wasn't completely evil. Cael wasn't going to get chummy with it, but he wasn't going to condemn it for what it came into this world as.
Then Kal started to give out orders to some of the people present, as be turned towards Cael and Arryn, the Erodian glanced at his half-elf companion. "Oh, this is going to be good." Kal ordered them to scout the mountain for caves and boulders they could use as well as signs of who had been living there. Arryn seemed much more eager to go as she looked at him and bade him join her. Taking one last look at Kal, he nodded. "Yeah, I heard what Chad said. Let's see what we can find then."
Cael let Arryn lead them up the paths through the trees and over the broken, rocky terrain of the mountainside. The drizzle had slowly grown harder and it had caused the ground and the stones to become somewhat slick. Pulling his hood up to keep his head dry from the rain, the pair of Psions made their way around the mountain scouting the area. Arryn was a master of her trade, though, and she had an almost uncanny ability to spy disturbances in the terrain. She informed him that there was probably a good thirty to forty people down in the cave, and that some of their tracks looked small like children. "Lovely, that means those little angels down there will be hesitant about attacking the dragon."
After awhile they noticed a broken cart, and Arryn's keen elf senses seemed to notice that they were being watched. Turning to face the mouth of the cave Cael could see two women. Before either of them could draw their bows, the women who had been watching them disappeared.
"Well, they know we know they have other routes in and out. I don't know if we have any geomancers, but they'd be perfect right about now... Good job, you're a skilled hunter... you're probably one hell of an assassin." Cael sighed as they turned and began to return to the group.
Making their way back down through hidden mountain paths that only Arryn could see, they made their approach to the rest of the column and their defensive fortifications. "Ready to break the bad news?"
The orders came down to prepare for battle, causing Nymr to cast about apprehensively for her ballista crews. "Bragal! Find us a good place t' hide the beasties, 'til the battle breaks." Shouting the command to one of the loaders, who promptly galloped off to return a few minutes later. "Clearing by the river ma'am. Should work rightly." Nodding, Nymr gave the order and the wagons carrying the siege engines were soon in their new position.
It was hard work, pulling the ballista to the ground, securing them with spikes and pulling the thick cords taught. Stacking heavy bolts, with bodkin heads of hardened steel, hopefully enough to pierce the dragons mail. Arranged to point ahead of the assembled army, ready to be rotated on wheels should need be.
Blankets were tossed over the ballistae and stacks of bolts, five ballista in total. "Send the carts t' the forest opposite, mayhaps they will think the ballista are there." With affirmative nods, a handful of runners took to the transport carts and wheeled off. Looking about, Nymr smiled, their concealment was good, firing fields open, and with a river to their back for easy jumping should the dragon rain fire down upon them.