Dungeon Master Assistance

Gimble had been staying in an ally where he had stashed his carpet bag. Just before dark, he retrieved it before he and Trevan went to the inn where Trevan had been staying. Most of the front wall was missing and a little smoke was still escaping in a few places. There was an old halfling stationed at the door. He was informing everyone that walked up that they were only serving drinks with meals and those were only available if you stood at the bar. The tables were all too badly damaged. There were no rooms available, but if you had a room already, they were not damaged by the fire.

They had fish soup at the bar. Gimble had to stand on a block of stone that had been part of the front wall. They were served by the halflings that had brought Trevan his bath yesterday. Buxter, the half-orc owner, was sweeping up the rubble. After eating they went to Trevan’s room. He was not surprised that Aramil had not yet arrived. The window had been left open to help clear the smoke. The smell of wood smoke and sulfur still lingered in the air. Gimble bedded down on the floor beside Trevan’s bed.

About an hour before sunrise, Trevan and Gimble were awakened by Aramil, saying that they didn’t have time to waste if they were going to get to the warehouse by sunup. Aramil was already dressed and waited patiently while Trevan and Gimble got ready. They talked about the dragon attacks yesterday. Aramil had helped with a fire at one of the towers. Abraxas knocked the top of off the tower and destroyed the ballista. The tower top landed in the street and crushed a passing merchant. Abraxas breathed fire down into the opening he had made. The tower was a total loss, but they were able to prevent the fire from spreading to adjacent buildings. Trevan and Gimble told him about the dragon attack at the warehouse.

They ate a quick breakfast and headed toward the warehouse. On the way, Aramil told Trevan about the planned quest and the scouts’ part in it. “The rout to the base of Fire Mountain is well known. It has been known for centuries that Abraxas has his lair somewhere in that mountain. It is a large semi-active volcano within the Black Mountains. To get there we will take the north road into the mountains, past the freehold of Neverwild up to the Dwarven mine of Clearwater. From there we follow old dwarfen and elfin paths through the mountains until we reach Fire Mountain.”

“The scouts are to go ahead,” he said. “We can travel a lot faster than the main party, who will be slowed by the wagons. Our task for the first part of the quest will be to inform them of any obstacles or dangers that may lie ahead. Sir Gleamheart made it very clear that he didn’t expect the scouts to clear away any monsters, but simply to keep the main group informed as to the road conditions ahead and possibly recommend alternate routs if necessary. A camp will be established at the base of Fire Mountain and the scouts, along with other groups as may be assigned for the purpose, will then locate the entrance to the dragon’s lair. Sir Gleamheart will determine the appropriate tactics for combating Abraxas, based on conditions at the time. After killing Abraxas, everyone will participate in loading his horde onto the wagons and they will be divided as you were previously told.”

“How far away is this Fire Mountain?”

“About three weeks travel by wagon. An elf on foot could be there in five days.”

“A gnome could make it in four,” said Gimble.

“A hollow boast,” said Aramil. “If I am not mistaken, you have never been to Fire Mountain.”

“No, but I’ll bet that I can beat you to the warehouse!” He took off running down the center of the street, dodging a vender that was setting up his cart for selling leather goods, ducking under the cart and narrowly missing a young girl carrying a large basket of bread. Aramil looked up at the sky. It was turning from indigo to a clear light blue and becoming much brighter. “We should hurry, the sun is just rising.” With this the elf and the young ranger began to run down the road in pursuit of the gnome. They caught up with him just as they reached the warehouse.

. . .

A small crowd had gathered at the front of the warehouse. The courtyard was filled with men in armor, stable boys, merchants, curious children and onlookers of all sorts. Everyone seamed to be standing around in groups of two of three, just waiting. As Trevan, Aramil and Gimble approached they saw the people on the far side of the courtyard quickly moving to the side as a procession approached from the dock side. It was lead by four on horseback and followed closely by a dozen or so on foot.

Sir Gleamheart was mounted on a large pure-white warhorse whose long white main and tail were bouncing as the fiery stallion pranced forward. Sparks flew from his hooves as they struck the cobblestones. The horse was dressed in the finest steel armor. His rider was dressed in full plate mail complete with gauntlets and full helmet. The morning sun reflected brightly off Sir Gleamheart’s polished shield and armor. A long blue and white banner was streaming from the tip of the lance. The symbol of Heironeous was proudly embroidered on the chest of his tunic and enameled onto his shield.

Beside Sir Gleamheart rode the cleric Pitchlight. In contrast to the paladin’s stallion, the cleric’s horse was a smaller and more sedate black gelding. This muscular horse was obviously bread for speed. It’s main and tell were cut short and it was draped in white and blue barding. Pitchlight was in chainmail from neck to foot. He had a large silver holy symbol set with several rubies hanging from his neck and was calling for everyone to clear the way.

Behind the cleric was the wizard Maylock. She rode on a brown pony with no reigns or halter. She sat upright with her arms inside her coat. She appeared to be controlling her horse by her thoughts alone.

Next to her rode Pickman on his horse, a courser that appeared to be a swift and strong dappled horse with light tack and saddle. He was wearing a large floppy hat with a large feather and a green cape. As they rode up he was smiling and chatting with several of the crowd that was following along side. When Sir Gleamheart stopped at the edge of the courtyard Pickman hopped off his horse and walked to the other side to an apple cart. He flipped a copper piece to the merchant and set cross-legged on the cobblestones. He leaned back against the wheel of the cart and began pealing the apple with his dagger as he waited for the paladin to speak.

The others pulled up beside the stallion as an aid took Sir Gleamheart’s lance. He removed his gauntlets and handed them to another aid. He carefully removed his helmet and with a flick of his head his golden hair tumbled perfectly to his shoulders. Trevan rubbed his hand over his own face feeling his beard’s morning stubble as he looked at Sir Gleamheart’s perfectly shaven face. All activity ceased. All eyes turned to watch. All ears listened intently. Sir Gleamheart looked at them all and when he spoke each man felt as if he were speaking directly to him.

“You are aware of the terrible events that befell Rockport last night. Indeed, you may have been directly affected by the tragedy. I greave for the fallen and their families.” After a pause and a slight shake of his head he continued, “The town will be rebuilt. The wounds will heal. The widows and orphans will be cared for. And the dead shall be revenged!” This was greeted with a round of cheers from all.

Gleamheart continued, “The evil red dragon, this cowardly worm named Abraxas, has caused a delay in the start of our quest, but in this unprovoked attack he has only strengthened our resolve!” More cheers. “As soon as we replenish our supplies we shall travel to Fire Mountain and destroy him where he hides. We will then take the treasure he has been stealing from the people of this land for centuries and use it to build Rockport into the world class seaport it of right should be, and would be if not for his unremitting threat to our safety. Farmers will then be free to return to the fields. Chops will flourish. Livestock will once again grow fat on the land and springtime will be blessed with new life as it was intended. The markets will be filled with produce, meat, fish, honey, milk, grain and fruit from our abundant fields. Your money pouch will be heavy with coins and gems from trade when ships come laden with the finest cloth and manufactured goods. Within a few years there will be an influx of artisans and manufacturers of all kinds. Rockport will become known to all as she is known to us. A place of natural beauty with an abundance of natural resources and, most of all, a safe place filled with friendly, hard working people. As soon as the threat of Abraxas is removed, this will again be a wonderful place to raise your families.” Gleamheart again paused and smiled as everyone cheered.

When everyone had settled down he continued, “Thank all of you for your support. Now I need to talk just to those of you who have signed on to be a part of the church sponsored quest. Would you please gather around me here. If there are any others who would like to join the quest, Pitchlight would like to talk to you. Additional positions are now available. I thank the rest of you again. Please disperse now and tell all of your friends and neighbors what you heard here this morning. Thank you.” A couple of aids helped him to dismount as a handful of people came closer and the rest of the crowd slowly left the courtyard.

“First I need to talk to the scouts,” he said. Trevan and Aramil walked over to him with Gimble close behind. Trevan looked around for the rest of the scouts and saw that no one else was joining them.

Aramil said, “Sir Gleamheart, this is Trevan.”

Trevan extended his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

With a broad smile, Gleamheart took his hand with both of his and said, “So this is the young ranger that can track dragons through the air?” While shaking Trevan’s hand as if he were his long lost brother, he looked straight into his eyes. Somehow, looking into Gleamheart’s crystal blue eyes filled Trevan with a courage he had never felt before. At that moment, he knew that he would follow this man through the gates of hell. He had never met anyone with more charisma. Gleamheart then noticed Aramil looking around for the other scouts. His face grew somber as he released Trevan’s hand and placed a hand on Aramil’s shoulder and on Trevan’s as well. “I am afraid you are the only two scouts we have left. One died last night and the clerics were unable to resurrect him. The other three came to me last night and returned their coins. I must ask each of you now, as I will ask the others who remain, are you sure you want to continue on this quest? There will be no dishonor in resigning.”

“Yes, of course!” Trevan exclaimed. “It is the reason I came here. I will track down and kill this dragon on my own if necessary!”

“That’s the kind of enthusiasm I like to hear!” Sir Gleamheart replied. “And what about you, Aramil? Are you still committed to the cause?”

“I am.” he replied with a slight nod of his head.

“Good!” said Sir Gleamheart. “Very good indeed! I am going to have to re-provision the quest, of course, but the reason I wanted to talk to the scouts first is that there is no reason you can’t start out right away. The rest of us will follow along in a day or two, as soon as we can replace our lost supplies.” He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out some coins. He handed one to Aramil. “This is to replace the one you gave to Trevan.” He then turned to Trevan. “Five more shares go to you.” He placed 5 shiny new gold coins in his hand. “You should have received 6 shares to begin with, and after last night I now have these available. I have a feeling you are going to earn them.”

He then turned away to retrieve some items from his saddle bags. He continued talking, “As you know Aramil, there was some discussion about providing the scouts with horses. I have decided against it. You will be less likely to be noticed on foot, and you might have to abandon your horses should you succeed in locating Abraxas’ lair. For those and other reasons, I am afraid that you will be traveling on foot.” He turned and handed each of them a coil of rope. “These are 50 feet of the finest silk rope.” Trevan had never seen anything like it. It was pure white an only about one quarter of an inch thick. It was so light in his hand he could hardly feel it. “We picked some up on our latest travels. You will find that it will support as much weight as one inch thick hemp. You might find it useful.” He then turned back to his saddle bags and returned with four small, tightly stopper, glass bottles. He gave two bottles to each of them. They were of fine clear glass and their stoppers sealed with wax. “Keep these safe, and always within easy reach. They just might save your life.”

“What are they?” Trevan asked as he examined them closely. One had a reddish liquid and red wax seal, the other was blue tinted with tiny bubbles and a blue wax seal.

“The red one is a potion of fire resistance. I have acquired as many of these as possible. After consuming the entire contents of the bottle it should provide enough protection to save you from a single dragon breath but the protection only lasts about 30 minutes. The blue one is a healing potion. Drink it all for it to work. It should heal all but the most sever damage you might have received. Or perhaps prevent you from dying from a sever wound.

“Aramil, you know the plan. Remember, your primary job is to locate Abraxas’ lair and report back. Under no circumstances are you to engage in combat with that dragon! It will do us no good for you to locate his lair and then get yourselves killed before getting that information back to us.

“Good luck to the two of you. Get your gear together and get underway as quickly as possible. We shouldn’t be more than two days behind you.” With that Sir Gleamheart waved for the others to gather around and he began talking to them about the quest.

Trevan said goodbye to Gimble, someone came from behind Sir Gleamheart and handed Trevan and Aramil each three days trail rations. With that they returned to the inn, retrieved their gear, settled their debts, walked out the north gate, and started along the road leading into the mountains. They had gone less than a mile when Gimble came running up from behind. He had his carpet bag tied into a small bundle and strapped to his back.

“They said they no longer needed a cook,” he said. “So I gave them back their coin and decided to help you guys. Besides, I couldn’t stand the thought of you having to eat trail rations.”

So the three of them began their trek. As they headed off along the trail, a hawk circled and then landed on Trevan’s shoulder.

The fog had been cleared from the town square but quickly returned. Trevan left the square and headed back towards the docks. He noticed damage caused by Abraxas at several locations. He would later learn that two towers, four buildings and two ships had been attacked. Not one ballista had been fired. The city maintained tanks full of water on each street for fire protection. The citizens had formed bucket brigades and put out all of the fires. Half a dozen citizens had been killed, twice that number seriously harmed. One city guard was missing.

He reached the warehouse. The side doors were closed so he entered through the large double doors at the end. The activity he had witnessed earlier was gone. The horses and mules were all in their stables. Their packs rested beside the stable doors. The wagons were lined up facing the open doors with their boxes and crates all tied down securely. They had barrels tied to their sides and they had harnesses and rigging arranged to allow the teams of horses to be hooked up quickly in the morning. The wagon in front was filled with ropes, tents, camping and climbing gear of all sorts. Next was the ballista wagon stacked with bolts and extra bow strings. After that was the food wagon, filled with boxes and crates of salted meats, grain, pickles, fruit, lard, other foods and cooking gear. Last of all there were three small, one-horse carts filled with hay for the horses. A fresh layer of straw was covering the floor. A few guards were walking around. Two guards were at a grinding wheel, sharpening their swords. Trevan spotted Gimble attaching light blue and white ribbons to everything.

Trevan asked Gimble if he had heard about the dragon attack. Gimble looked around to make sure no one was listening and said, “Of course. Someone ran in and told everybody what was happening. Mast of the people that were left ran out to help fight the fires. Just about everybody was already gone. They all got everything finished here a little earlier.” He looked around again and said, “I checked my gem and the silver dragon was gone.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll tell you all about that later. Where is Abraxas now?”

“I watched the gem as the red star moved around, got brighter and dimmer and then it finally went dark. They said that they couldn’t see him through the fog, so they couldn’t shoot him. A single hit from a ballista bolt might kill a dragon; two or three hits will kill it for sure. But they didn’t have time to aim. The one we are taking is slow to aim, but if the dragon lands and will stay still for a minute … Well, the ballista team has been practicing and has gotten pretty good.”

“Let’s check the gem again, just to make sure it’s not coming back.”

“Okay, but he must have been at least two miles away and traveling fast towards the mountains when it went dark.”

They went to the inside corner beside the open door and Gimble took the gem out of its leather pouch. It was glowing with a red light shining as bright as a torch! Gimble almost dropped it. Trevan readied his crossbow as they heard someone scream in the courtyard and the sound of leather wings followed by the sound of a heavy ancient dragon landing on cobblestone. Trevan thought of the potion bottle that the Starling had given him. He decided not to drink it and moved this arm to hold Gimble back into the corner. This was not necessary. Gimble was not going anywhere. They closed their eyes to a sudden blinding light as a cone of fire engulfed the line of wagons.  A moment later Trevan ran out of the doorway and saw above him, a large red scaled tail disappearing into the swirling fog. He fired into the air but hit nothing. Looking down, he could make out the distinct outline of a red dragon footprint.

The wagons were all in flames. The dry straw on the floor was burning. The fire was spreading fast. The ropes, the canvas, the hay, the bow strings, the lard, the grain was all burning. The wagons themselves were beginning to burn. Two of the guards came running out followed by two that were on fire. They dropped and rolled and, with the help of others in the courtyard, quickly had their burning clothes extinguished. They suffered severe burns over much of their bodies. Another guard fell while trying to leave the fire. Trevan ran in and pulled him to safety. Two others were caught in the blast and died in the flame.

Trevan and Gimble went to the far side of the courtyard. In a secluded area between buildings, they checked the gem. The red light was growing dimmer as it pointed west, towards the Black Mountains. They continued to watch as it grew dimmer and dimmer. The fog was beginning to lift. After a full two minutes, the light was gone.

A man ran up to the warehouse, shouting orders. The people had already started a bucket brigade to put out the fire. This new arrival stood out from the rest. He was about six feet tall. He was wearing shiny plate mail armor with a blue and white tunic. A large silver holy symbol of Heironeous was hanging around his neck. His shoulder length, golden blond hair had a natural wave and appeared to be always blowing in the wind. He had an exquisitely handsome face with deep blue eyes and a large dimple in the center of his large square jaw.

Gimble said, “That is Sir Gleamheart. I asked around and found out quite a bit about him and his three companions. They say that he grew up here in Rockport. He studied with the priests of Heironeous until he was 16. Then he joined the kings army where he distinguished himself in battle and was knighted. He returned here 6 years ago, swore allegiance to the church, and became the first paladin of Rockport. He made a name for himself by clearing the area of orcs and other monsters. Then he and his group left on a ship two years ago where they fought sea monsters, pirates, and many other terrors, if you can believe any of the stories. They returned to fight Abraxas.”

Everyone jumped to obey his every order. He sent armored guards to each corner of the warehouse to watch the sky for the dragons return. He had men break open the side doors and directed the formation of three separate lines of buckets to fight the fire. He led others to the outside walls of the stables to save the horses and mules.

Pitchlight arrived shortly after Sir Gleamheart. He knelt beside each of the burn victims, presented his holly symbol and enchanted spells that completely healed their wounds. They tore away the burned portion of their clothing and joined in the fire fight. Gimble said, “The cleric, Pitchlight, has been traveling with Sir Gleamheart since he became a paladin. Sir Gleamheart always leads the group, but he leaves the details up to Pitchlight. He is a good fighter in his own right, but his primary function is to heal them after the fights. He handles all of the financing for the group and Sir Gleamheart relies on him for planning their trips.”

After a few minutes, it appeared that the wagons were a complete loss and the building was in danger of burning. The flames were reaching the rafters and the walls were beginning to burn. Trevan and Gimble were still keeping an eye on the gem while they watched the activity around the warehouse. The fog was almost completely gone. Gimble pointed to a woman that was approaching the fire. “That’s Maylock,” he said. “The wizard of the group.” She was a short half-elf. She stood five foot two inches tall and appeared to glide as she walked. Her smooth skin was of a dark brown hue and her slanted eyes were blue-grey. It’s hard to judge the age of a half-elf, but if she had been a human one would have judged her to be about thirty two years old. “She is not friendly. Nobody likes her,” Gimble said. She was wearing a red and gold quilted silk robe with a hem that just touched the ground. Her dark hair was tied back into one long braid in the back. She had a small square hat made of the same material as her gown. Her grim expression never changed as she raised her hands to cast a spell. A large black rat peeked out from under her collar. “That rat is her familiar,” explained Gimble. “His name is Fred.” With some well practiced magical words and nimble motions of her hands she called forth a magical spell that caused the entire inside of the warehouse to experience a rapid drop in temperature. The flames were extinguished instantly. She then cast another spell that cleared the building of all of the smoke. “No one seams to know where she came from. Some say she came on a ship from some land fare to the west. She keeps to herself and spends most of her time studying her magic books, making potions and doing other mysterious things. They say the only reason she goes on their adventures is to find old magics and forgotten spell books.”

With the fire out, Sir Gleamheart and Pitchlight rushed in to check on the guards that had died. Sir Gleamheart said that he would petition the church to resurrect them, that they had been fearless defenders of the faith. Pitchlight cast spells to prevent further deterioration of their bodies. He instructed some volunteers to take them to the temple of Heironeous. Sir Gleamheart began directing the cleanup. Pitchlight began assessing the damage and taking inventory of what could be salvaged.  Maylock cast some sweeping and cleaning spells that soon had the floor cleaned down to the dirt and the ashes swept into a neat pile.

“Here comes the last member of their group,” said Gimble as he pointed towards a man running up to the warehouse. This man was  thin, about five foot six, and running as fast as he could with his sword drawn and his green cape flowing behind him. “His name is Shaster Carter. He and Sir Gleamheart are life-long friends. He has a short temper and is always quick to join any fight. He likes to drink and gamble and always flirts with the ladies. He makes no secret of the fact that his reason for adventuring is to find treasure. I am sure that Sir Gleamheart finds him useful in a fight, but he probably just wants to keep him close so he can keep him out of trouble.”

“Where is the dragon?” yelled Shaster as he spun around looking at the destruction.

“He is long gone,” said Sir Gleamheart. “Put away your sword.”

“Again? Why doesn’t he stand and fight? I don’t understand why we aren’t going after him. Taking a caravan to go after a dragon is like fishing with a club. The fish gets away and you get laughed at!”

Sir Gleamheart said, “We are taking the larger group and wagons because the church asked us to. They said they would finance this quest and I said that I would lead it.” Then to everyone that was standing around he said, “Tell everyone that is going on this quest to meet here at daybreak as planned. We will take stock of the damage this evening and announce our next steps at that time.”