Holy living fuck, were we ever beaten.
Before I get into the details of what transpired today, I should finish out what we discovered among the giants. We did locate the chieftain of the Hill or Earth giants, and we did put his bones to the torch. After the fight with the orcs in the hallways and the retrieval of the giants’ treasure vault, I was sent back to make sure the way was clear to escape once we’d dealt with the leaders.
By the time I’d returned, the fight was over – and two of my new companions were dead. That statement is actually slightly misleading. One was dead, the other just finished dying. After they had penetrated the keep further and dealt with the giant chieftain, they found their way down into a cavern below the keep in which an Earth titan and several other giants were hiding…apparently the titan was one of the heads keeping the giants in line.
In the ensuing battle, Sered the deva had his head dislocated by a solid strike from the titan (strange how it lolled about before we bundled up his carcass) and Wynter was almost completely flattened by one of the titan’s feet. This would have perhaps been comical had the creepy little thing’s fingers not kept twitching for at least a day. The group refused to listen to my advice to burn the animated corpse. Turns out that it was good they didn’t, but I stand by my recommendation – undead of any sort, you can never be sure until you burn the corpse. I was wrong, I’ll admit that much. Once we returned to Argent we arranged for a holy reprieve from the Black Queen for the two of them, and they were restored to us in the bargain.
After this, the group – who call themselves Fellbane, after one of their earlier exploits – returned to its home. This home, a keep on the edge of a small town called Al’Veydra, seemed comfortable enough. The guard retinue needs training, but the structure seems sound. Mostly imported granite from the mountains I can observe to the far East, I would assume. Can you believe their head manservant is a hobgoblin? The town below is smallish, but livable. I might need to teach some of the locals how to distill brevare properly, as the old Imperial stamp is no longer extant. The township needs some interaction with this team of people, as they apparently are of mixed feelings about us.
Anyhow, that all closed about two weeks ago, as we returned from our exploits in service to the city of Argent. I’ve been spending time getting a feel for the troops and beginning a training plan for them, as well as finding locations where I might locate some decent beer. However, I had no idea what kinds of enemies this band had developed before my arrival.
This morning we were set upon by a dragon.
And not just any dragon, a grey – in service to a troll-king, it turns out, named Veyd. I’ve since discovered this town is named after the troll king, who apparently was resurrected a short while back after this group attacked and killed one or more of his descendants, or something like that. How in all the gods’ names does one anticipate things like this? I figured they would have enemies, but for the love of the Black River!
This thing barreled over the wall this morning at dawn, loaded up with “assistants” – man-sized spiders who had apparently been mutated with troll-stuff were clinging to its hide, and dropped off among us as the thing sailed in. It destroyed one guard utterly as it settled on the wall, and immediately set about it with claw and tail and an acidic exhalation. I was convinced my tenure on this world was to be cut short, as I had the misfortune of being out inspecting the guard ranks just as the thing arrived.
Needless to say, I did not do my own reputation any favors. I froze in the presence of the thing, staring dumbly up at it as it reared up and roared on the crenellations. It probably could have swallowed me and I would have watched stupidly as it did. I did notice it had some form of arcane symbols etched on the underside of its wings – as it turns out, these were one-shot tattoos of a kind; they absorbed incoming spell effects and burned off as they did. Unfortunate. I was bowled over by its tail almost immediately, and it took several moments before I came to – apparently I’d almost bled out on the top of the wall where I lay, and it wasn’t until that dwarf shaman Cannon (a member of the group I hadn’t met until last week – he’d apparently been out visiting family or buggering sheep or whatever the dwarves do with their time) staunched my bleeding that I was able to see the havoc the dragon was wreaking upon my new compatriots.
The rank and file had broken instantly – the only guards remaining on the field were corpses. The spiders were leaping about as though they had been drinking fezzal-juice, and I watched their troll-augmented jaws actually rip open a steel plate on Rhogar’s chest while trying to eat him. I feebly plinked a shot into that one (from clear across the courtyard, though – go, me!) before seeing some manlike form come flying down from the rooftops to land near me on the wall. A dragon-kin of some kind, this thing wore a necklace of eyes which were big enough to belong to a troll themselves. It shouted at me something along the lines of Veyd laying claim to these lands again, and I put a solid arrow in its gullet. Apparently this thing was tougher than it looked, since my arrow didn’t do much more than piss it off. It did leave, however, flying away in a direction I would later discover was back near where Fellbane had fought Veyd’s ancestor (and giving seed to the theory that the troll-king had been successfully brought back from the Black).
The dragon rampaged upon our courtyard without the slightest concern about our number, and mostly due to our surprise was able to tackle us one after the other. I managed to envigor both Althea and Sered each, but Sered retrieved the beast’s attention almost immediately, and went down once again like a two-penny whore staring at a full purse.
Almost immediately after the dragonkin flew off, the dragon itself lifted off and departed – a mercy I can only attribute to an overestimation of our abilities. I’d like to think my being up and able to bring my own tactics to the fight had something to do with it, but I know better than this. That beast had little to fear from me, or any of us. It sailed off, but before it vanished completely it overflew the town. Reports have since come back that it slew some forty villagers in that attack. Fortunately none of Fellbane were killed – though both Sered and Althea will bear scars to rival my own from this mess.
After a few hours or recuperation and recovery, we’ve since discovered that fully half the keep’s guard and staff have deserted. Can’t say that I blame them, that dragon was almost the end of us all, and though it pains me to admit it I was prepared to flee for my life as well.
This evening, it seems almost too easy a coincidence, a representative from a neighboring landhold has come to ask our alliance. Apparently after the decline of Bael Turath, men arose here in a kingdom of sorts, which later led to an uprising and division of this land into six separate regions, all independent of the human kingdom. Shortly thereafter a somewhat pyrrhic war took place, which exhausted the victor’s forces so much that the humanoid barbarians of the North (Veyd being the driving force behind them) swept into control of the entire region.
Now this representative – Marbryndan by name – brings news that the bloodline of the king of the old kingdom of men was not severed, but is found to continue in a small blind boy by the name of Gavilan. Marbryndan represents one of the six independent kingdoms, and from the sound of it the ruler of this little fiefdom wants to set himself up as the new “grand king” after going through a charade of propping up the other five “independent” states. I don’t really buy that line for a copper.
So for the rest of this evening Fellbane has been contemplating their futures. Using this keep as an oversized tenement no longer seems an option – some responsibility is required now. I am of a mind to recommend that they secure it and establish their own borders, but they’re going to need to demonstrate to the people of this township that they can successfully defend it, or this place will end up as deserted as Argent.
What do I want in all of this? That’s a good question. Two months…I suppose I mean seven or eight hundred years ago…all I wanted was a direction and a horse to take me there. Now, I’m not sure. I certainly don’t want to be king of a small human territory. I DO want to give that dragon back a bit of the dose it heaped upon us, and this time as an organized force.
It just seems something else is calling me. What about Bael Turath? I don’t know. I’d like to go to Abbor Alz and see this massing army for myself, determine if there’s anyone left I can still call by name. It would certainly be interesting to see what’s left of the Empire – centuries are surprisingly long periods of time, and it might be that the Empire is struggling to return to its feet. Would I help it up? I don’t know. For all its glory, I don’t think our people were ever truly satisfied by all the conquests. I suppose I would oppose the Arkhosians, that’s an easy enough decision, but a return to Imperial life doesn’t really appeal to me. I still want to see the rest of the world still – and maybe breathe the air of a few others.
And there’s always the future…
