Adventure Log VII.III
A COUNTRY MILE
Byron and Nightingale, feeling a surge of exhilaration, spurred their horses into a gallop. They whooped and yelled like children, the speed and power of their mares beneath them filling them with pure joy. The whole party couldn't help but smile and laugh at the sight of Byron, racing back and forth, his exuberance contagious.
In the cart, Calli was enjoying the wide variety of birdsong and trying to catch site of the owners. While listening, she heard a cry unlike the others, and scanning the horizon spotted a large strange shape in the distance above the approaching treeline. She tried to shush the others and pointed out the mysterious sight.
The serene atmosphere the company had been enjoying was abruptly shattered when suddenly three creatures emerged from the dense forest.
The creatures were a gruesome sight to behold. Standing barely three feet tall, their wiry frames were cloaked in tattered, mismatched pieces of leather armour that did little to conceal their green, mottled skin. Their faces were twisted into malicious grins, revealing rows of sharp, yellowed teeth. Their large, bulbous eyes glinted with a mix of cunning and malevolence, darting around as they assessed the party. Each creature wielded a crude crossbow, the wood splintered and worn, yet still deadly in their capable hands. Long, pointed ears twitched as they spoke, and their high-pitched voices grated on the nerves of anyone who heard them. Goblins!
The goblins pointed their crossbows at the party and demanded the party stop and hand over an amulet. As they said this they pointed directly at Trinia, and it was at that moment the party realized the goblins had mistaken Trinia for Taylan. Taylan normally wore a strange amulet around his neck.
The goblins made it clear, that the amulet had been stolen and that it belonged to “The Lady”. If they didn’t hand it over immediately there would be dire consequences.
Trevor, speaking in goblin, tried his usual diplomatic approach to avoid conflict, but the goblins weren't interested. Their eyes gleamed with malicious intent, and before the party could react, the goblins unleashed a volley of crossbow bolts.
“Ambush!” Byron roared, spurring his horse forward. Nightingale followed suit, drawing his rapier with lightning speed. The two charged at the three goblins, but as they closed the distance, a horde of goblins emerged from the trees. Above them, was a sight straight out of a nightmare. Two fearsome creatures soared above them that were a blend of dragon and wolf, combining the most terrifying aspects of both. Their bodies were covered in scales that shimmered with a sickly green hue, each scale edged with a darker green, giving them a reptilian appearance. Standing about the size of a horse, their muscular frames were built for both flight and combat.
The ‘Dragonwolves’ heads were wolf-like, with elongated snouts filled with razor-sharp teeth that glinted menacingly when they snarled. Their eyes burned with a feral intelligence, an eerie glow emanating from their slit-pupiled gaze. Long, pointed ears flicked back and forth, attuned to every sound. From their backs sprouted large, leathery wings, the membranes stretched taut between long, bony fingers. When they spread their wings, the creatures cast ominous shadows on the ground below.
Their powerful legs ended in clawed feet, each talon capable of rending flesh and bone with ease. As they flew, their movements were almost hypnotic, a blend of sinuous grace and raw power. The Dragonwolves tails, long and whip-like, were tipped with spiked protrusions, adding another weapon to their already formidable arsenal.
Together, the goblins and the Dragonwolves made for a terrifying force, their combined ferocity and numbers posing a significant threat to the party!
A rain of arrows from the Goblin horde descended upon the party, forcing them to take cover. Byron and Nightingale's horses reared and kicked, hooves lashing out at the goblins. Byron, with a primal roar, leaped from his horse, claws bared, slicing through goblins with savage efficiency. Each swing sent goblins flying, but the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming.
Nightingale, his rapier flashing, weaved through the goblins with graceful precision. He combined his swordsmanship with magic, electrocuting goblins with shocking grasp. Despite his skill, the tide of enemies seemed endless. Goblin after goblin fell, but more kept coming. An arrow found purchase in him from one of the goblins still in the branches, and he returned the attack with a blast of flame that crisped his assailant. One of the others screamed “Sister!” and swung over to collect the body.
Little F, the flying drake, swooped down from the sky, breathing his silvery mist upon the goblins. Its presence provided much-needed aerial support, confusing some of the party and turning them against their own. His tail lashed out and sliced into nearby targets.
In the cart, Calli struggled to get the horse moving, but it refused to budge. Her nightmares of a blood-filled carraige dancing in her mind, she abandoned the cart and began running towards the battle. It was then that the Dragonwolves swooped past and unleashed sprays of acid across the party. The air seemed to sizzle and warp all around them. Calli had the misfortune of being hit by both blasts as they crossed and was in obvious pain.
Trevor turned in horror to see the spray of acid coming their way. His skin sizzled under the corrosive liquid, but he stood firm, roaring in defiance. Acid from the Dragonwolf’s breath had left burns on their skin, but Trevor seized the reins, spurred the horse into action, and pulled it under the cover of a large tree. He then stood atop the cart, his massive ax ready to cleave any foe that approached. Trinia began an inspiring performance to aid them in the battle, leaving Calli free to take other actions.
Calli channeled her energies into belting a mighty whistle note that struck one of the flying monsters and rendered it senseless, tumbling to the ground near Gale, stunned. More goblins poured from the trees to replace fallen comrades around Byron and attack the brightly-dressed woman who had brought down one of their aerial supports. She managed to turn and rush back to the cart, knowing it would provide an advantage against the tiny terrors, in spite of her aversion to it.
Meanwhile, Byron, seeing the Goblins attacking his horse, let out a battle cry and surged forward, cutting down goblins with renewed vigor. His claws tore through flesh and bone, each strike accompanied by a primal roar. He fought with a ferocity that bordered on the animalistic, driven by a need to protect it.
Nightingale, though surrounded by goblins himself, unleashed a torrent of magical energy at the downed dragonbat, finishing it off before it could recover. A goblin used his distraction to land a blow, slicing into his arm. Nightingale grimaced but didn’t falter, dispatching his attacker with a swift thrust. Lightning crackled around him as he then continued to strike with his rapier, each blow delivering a jolt of electricity that left goblins convulsing on the ground.
The horses, too, fought bravely, kicking and trampling goblins under their powerful hooves. One horse reared, striking a goblin in the chest and sending it flying. But in the chaos, Gale’s horse was overwhelmed, goblins swarming over it until it fell, lifeless, to the ground. They cheered as it fell, declaring their hatred of all horses.
Trinia, using her bardic magic, continued singing her song of heroism, her voice rising above the clamour of battle. Her melody was enchanting, infusing her companions with renewed strength and resolve. The party felt the extra boost in their attacks, encouraging them to keep up the fight as the number of foes steadily dwindled.
Trevor, his skin still sizzling from the acid, swung his ax with immense force at the remaining dragonwolf that had breathed the deadly liquid upon him, as it flew past. The blade bit deep, and the creature let out a screech of pain, taking flight to escape further injury. It retreated away into the distance, leaking gore as it went.
The goblin in the tree who held her dead sister screeched out for the others to “recover the amulet and return to the lady,” before taking to the skies and flying off.
Goblins then began to swarm the cart where Trevor stood, but he methodically cut them down, each strike precise and lethal. “Cmon!” Trevor bellowed, swinging his axe with deadly force. He split a goblin in two, its blood spraying across the cart. More goblins clambered up, but Trevor cut them down, decapitating some, severing limbs of others. His fury was palpable; he fought like a berserker, a whirlwind of destruction.
On the other side of the cart Calli, her own rapier drawn from the handle of her parasol, attempted to do the same. She failed. The horror of once again being assaulted in a vehicle made her hands shake and she was unable to connect more than a couple of times. Her heart was pounding with terror, not exhilaration.
Only a handful of goblins remained. Byron sent Little F to defend his horse, to which Nightingale took offense, as he was still fighting three himself, and he could always resummon the horse. Byron himself sped to the cart to pick off the last few climbing up the corner and stabbing out at Calli. The men made short work of the stragglers. Seeing only one was left, she quickly indicates they keep it alive for questioning. Byron hoisted it up by the scruff and held it at arms length, harmless.
Finally, the goblins lay defeated, their bodies littering the battlefield. Calli, with a gesture, cast a charm spell. The goblin’s expression softened as the magic took hold.
“Who is ‘The Lady’?” Calli asked, her voice friendly.
“The Lady is... a Green dragon,” the goblin revealed, fear evident in its eyes. “Lady Emerald Siren Putrifax Queen of Decay, sworn enemy of the White Maw!” The name rang a bell, and Calli recalled some old stories of a great green dragon called Putrifax that had been deadly threat. The party's blood ran cold at the revelation, understanding now that a powerful dragon, the embodiment of primal power and cunning was hunting them.
The goblin said his lady had killed the White Maw, spitting every time it said that name, and that she wanted the amulet. It didn’t know why. As they probed the goblin with more questions they learnt that the dragon’s base was located hours away and that the dragonwolves and some of the goblins had been children of the green dragon. That explained why the leader of the attack band had been able to fly away with the fallen one. The party’s thoughts turned to Taylan with his white scales and missing parents. Various theories started to form. Calli indicated that she had no further questions from this creatures and Nightingale dispatched the last of their attackers.
Byron sagged with his usual post-fight exhaustion. Calli, no longer needing to be strong, curled up in the corner of the cart and broke into a frantic burst of tears. Nightingale climbed in and put an arm around her until it passed. Trevor kept a watchful eye out, and Trinia used their healing wands to patch up the party while Calli collected herself.
When they were ready to move on again, Nightingale asked if he could ride with Byron as his own horse had fallen and the cart was quite full. Calli nervously interrupted, asking if she could ride instead and Nightingale take the cart. Byron immediately swept her up to the horse and settled her behind him. No one mentioned her outburst, and she was grateful.
The weight of this knowledge pressed heavily on them, the terror of being hunted by such a deadly foe casting a dark shadow over their hearts. The reality of their situation hit them hard, but they knew they had no choice but to press on. First to get Trinia to safety and secondly to escape the dragon’s wrath.
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Hours passed as the party made their way through the countryside. Their journey was marked by an oppressive tension, each of them hyper-vigilant, eyes scanning every shadow in the trees, the skies, and even beneath rocks and bushes. The encounter with the green dragon and the goblins had left them rattled, and the fear that they were being hunted by such a formidable creature gnawed at them.
Byron, usually so boisterous, was silent, his eyes darting constantly. Nightingale's hands were never far from his weapons, ready to draw at a moment's notice. He and Trevor, riding in the cart with Trinia—disguised as Taylan—shared uneasy glances, both acutely aware of the danger they were all in. Even Calli, clinging to Byron on the horse, was unable to really enjoy the proximity. The breastplate kept him from feeling her heart pounding, whether from fear or not.
Every rustle of leaves, every distant sound, set their hearts racing. The knowledge that a green dragon, with its terrifying cunning and deadly breath weapon, might be stalking them cast a long shadow over their journey. Yet, despite their constant vigilance, no further attacks came, and they encountered no one else on the road.
Eventually, as the moon rose high in the sky, they arrived at the small, unassuming inn where they were to meet Trinia's contact. Trots Inn, nestled in a quiet clearing, seemed a haven of safety compared to the perils they had faced on the road. Inside, they were greeted by a grizzled man with a knowing look. This was Jasan Adriel. He exchanged a few brief words with the party, confirming the arrangements. It was too dangerous to travel at night, which was now creeping in. They would stay the night, and slip out in the early morning. Trinia, her disguise still intact, turned to the group, her eyes shining with gratitude.
Calli knew they had to maintain their cover. The inn's common room was filled with weary travellers, and it provided the perfect opportunity for Calli E.K., the performer, to make her mark. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto a makeshift stage.
Calli's performance that night was nothing short of extraordinary. Inspired by the night's events—their narrow escape from death, the triumph of saving an innocent life—she poured her heart and soul into every note. Her voice, clear and powerful, filled the room, weaving tales of heroism and hope.
The audience was captivated, hanging on her every word. Her music lifted their spirits, painting vivid pictures of valour and resilience. As she sang, her friends felt a profound sense of pride and relief. They had faced down death and emerged victorious, and Calli's performance was a celebration of that triumph.
By the time Calli finished, the room erupted in applause. The tension that had gripped the party all night melted away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and achievement. They had not only survived but had also made a difference.
As they settled down for the night, the party couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. They had saved an innocent woman from a terrible fate and, in doing so, had strengthened the bonds between them. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for tonight, they could rest knowing they had done something truly good.
