Chapter 18 - The Tower of Stovologard (7314)

Chapter 18 - The Tower of Stovologard (7314)

Tears fell down Roztov’s smoke and soot covered face as he gathered up Broddor’s bones and armour. Floran tied up a gendarme’s abandoned cloak into a makeshift bag and they placed all the remains into it.

‘We cannot tarry, Roz,’ said the wizard.

‘This is my fault, Tup, from the beginning. He didn’t need to come, he didn’t need to be here. I just wanted him to come on this stupid adventure because I thought it would be fun.’

‘I know, but the dust is settling now, soon the dragons will come again.’

‘What will I tell his father?’

‘That he died slaying a dragon. What better way for his son to die?’

Roztov sniffed and wiped his eyes, smearing soot across his face. Smoke billowed down the narrow street, blown by dragon wings further back where the street met a larger thoroughfare.

Floran stepped up onto a pile of rubble and held out his arm to shoot more fire flies into the clouds of smoke and dust. Unseen, there was the sounds of men falling over in armour and crying out in pain.

‘What is the plan?’ asked the wizard calmly.

‘I... I...’ stuttered Roztov as he came to himself. He stood holding the top of the bag that Broddor’s remains were in. ‘I’m not sure about flying out. Shape-shifting into anything large is hard here and once we were above the rooftops I think the dragons would have us.’

‘More rats?’

Roztov was watching down the street behind them while Floran looked over the ruined roof that blocked the street ahead of them. He could see gendarmes and dragonriders gathering, a group of shadows in the smoke that were looming closer.

‘Maybe,’ said the druid. ‘Maybe if I did some rats and you did some bees.’

‘Worth a try I suppose. You know what direction to go in?’

‘Well, I’m not sure going back through all our mouse holes is a good idea. Wait...’

Roztov threw his arms in the air as a volley of arrows was fired at them. A wall of air pushed them all upwards to clatter harmlessly on the walls of the buildings on either side.

‘The dragons are watching us,’ said Floran with a gesture upwards.

‘Save your fire flies for the men on the ground, I don’t think another dragon will come down here.’

Floran nodded and fire off a volley of his own, five fire flies, whizzing through the air, each finding a target and knocking them to the ground. The others scattered.

Another shape came flying towards them, and Roztov raised his arms again, but it was a seagull, gliding in fast. It landed clumsily at its feet and fell over. It then turned into Meggelaine.

‘For the sake of Etruna, what’s the hold up? Ghene said to wait for you, but I was worried sick. Come on will you, we’ve found a good place to hide, where is Broddor?’ she said all in one breath.

‘Dead,’ said Roztov dully.

Meggelaine looked at the dirty bag in Roztov’s hand and let out a sob. ‘No.’

She took a few steps backwards, as if trying to retreat from the reality of their friend’s death. ‘No, Roztov, no. Not Broddor, not after all these years. How did... how can it happen? Broddor is indestructible.’

‘It was anti-magic sweetie. The dragon got him,’ he gestured at Neith’s corpse, ‘but he got it.’

Meggelaine was crying and sobbing. ‘But they can come back, Roztov? Didn’t a Holy Knight of Aerekrig come back one time?’

‘I don’t know, Meg. I think that was just stories.’

Floran was the only one watching the street. ‘They are getting closer.’

Roztov looked up and Meggelaine looked around. Gendarme’s, holding tall shields, were slowly advancing down the street. There were men behind them carrying spears.

‘I don’t want to kill any more of these men,’ said Roztov. With a grunt he held out his hands then with his palms down pushed down on the air. Twenty steps in front of them the street buckled and the cobblestones bounced up. The gendarme’s held up their shields, but they were in no great danger as the cobbles only jumped from the ground a few feet. The earth ahead of them flowed and shifted until there was a deep trench ten feet wide. As they stood, wondering what to do, five more fire flies whizzed towards them, but they exploded more or less harmlessly against their shields.

Floran looked back over the rubble. ‘There are more down this way too.’

Roztov and Meggelaine clambered up over the dead dragon’s neck and onto the collapsed roof.

There was a large group of men milling around at the end of the street, getting organised for an advance.

‘I can see Honni at the back. He’s still with them,’ said Roztov. ’I don’t want to, but I wonder if we should kill him. How much has he told them about us I wonder? It would be better to still his tongue.’

‘No!’ cried Meggelaine, even as the tears for Broddor still fell from her cheeks. ‘He’s just a man, what about his family? We don’t know why he betrayed us.’

‘The wretch bears a lot of responsibility for Broddor’s death, Meg.’

‘That’s not who we are Roz!’ chided the fressle. ‘Maybe we can grab him and take him prisoner. We can take him with us, then he can’t tell anyone anything.’

‘I’m not sure...’ Roztov said as he looked down at the scimitar in his right hand, then the bag in his left.

‘Listen, we can’t just...’

Floran stepped ahead of them and shot off a magical arrow, a bolt of yellow magic, that lanced towards the group of men. It hit Honni squarely in the chest and exited out of his back before evaporating.

‘Tuppence!’ cried Meggelaine.

‘No longer an issue,’ said Floran with finality.

Roztov looked out across the fallen roof, then looked back at the street where he had created the chasm. The gendarme’s were laying beams to cross it.

‘Roztov, we need a plan,’ said Floran.

‘Right, right,’ said the druid as he looked around. ‘Well, it looks like seagulls are a possibility in this place. Me and Meg can get out like that, at least.’

Roztov, rubbing his chin, walked over to where a slain gendarme was lying.

‘The smoke is clearing, but if I raised another fog...’

Floran, understanding straight away, joined Roztov.

‘He’s about my size. I like this plan. Make a fog, then you two fly off. I’ll get lost in the crowd.’

‘It’s too dangerous,’ said Meggelaine as she joined them.

‘Don’t worry Meg,’ said Floran. ‘If I get into trouble I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve.’

‘Och, fine,’ sighed Meggelaine. ‘Head to the docks when you get away then, but go three streets back, right? The street with all the carts in it. I’ll etch a druidic rune on the door of the tenement we are in. We are on the top floor, but come quietly as there are people living on the lower floors.’

Roztov was already summoning a druidic fog, his arms raised as a thick mist swirled about them.

‘See you soon, Tup.’

He then held the bag of Broddor’s remains close to his body and changed shape. Man, bag, bones and all turned into a seagull and took off into the air.

Meggelaine held up her arms for a hug. When Floran bent down she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. ‘See you soon, Tup.’

Once she too had flown off, Floran sighed and scratched the back of his head. He then dragged the body of the gendarme into the open doorway of the nearest tenement building to find a place to hide while he changed into the armour.

Fish were caught in the seas north of Stovologard, by skinny men and women in long narrow boats. At this time of year they only went out when the sea was calm and the skies clear, which was rarely. Still, the fisher’s wharfs were one of the few places where birds flew on the island, a large and aggressive type of herring gull with distinctive black hoods and yellow beaks. They picked through the piles of fish bones and shells or robbed bread from the dole carts, not even the dragon stench of smoke and sulphur kept them away.

Two of them landed clumsily on a street three rows back from the quayside. They then hopped through a broken window and into an abandoned room. Here they turned into Meggelaine and Roztov.

‘There are families on the second, third and fourth floors. I’ve met some of them already, they are all lovely people. We’ve got the whole of the sixth floor to ourselves, the windows are all broken and boarded up, which is perfect for us,’ explained Meggelaine as they walked up the central stairwell.

Roztov, with the bag of armour and bones over his back ran his right hand over the plaster as they climbed.

‘Look at the brick work here Meg,’ he said quietly. ‘At least a hundred years old. And see the remains of the plaster? It was once painted. More than one colour too, these would have been…’

He trailed off as he thought of what Broddor would be saying to his observations. Meggelaine, realising this, hurried him along.

‘Time for all that later, Roz. We’ve got more important matters to attend to right now.’

At the top of the stairs were three boarded up doors and one that stood slightly open. Within the apartment, in the room that offered the only view of the docks, Ghene, Tankle and Arrin sat warming themselves at a small fireplace.

‘Broddor and Tuppence?’ asked Ghene as he stood up.

‘Tuppence is on his way,’ said Roztov. He then went to the corner of the room and gently laid down the sack he was carrying. ‘Broddor is dead.’

Ghene listened in dismay, and then in quiet contemplation as Roztov told the story of Broddor’s death. Roztov changed the ending so that it was Broddor that killed the dragon. Not that it mattered, he thought, but the dragon may well have died from the injury it had received in the chest anyway. That and the fact that it had had a roof land on it, perhaps the last sword thrust had only hastened its end.

Ghene let out a deep sigh at the end of the tale and said, ‘Well, there is no better way for a dwarven warrior to go I suppose.’

‘But so far away from home!’ blurted out Meggelaine. ‘This is all my stupid fault. He survived goblin wars, necromancers, the undead, two-headed giants, you name it. And now here, he dies… Oh Roztov.’

Roztov sat down by the fire and hugged Meggelaine to him like a child.

‘They can come back though Roz? I heard that, or read it, or Broddor told me, or something, about the Holy Knights. Sometimes the come back?’

‘I don’t know Meg. I always thought that was just legends, but maybe.’

‘There are tales of ancient Dynar, that they could bring back the dead,’ put in Ghene. ‘But those are sad stories and they never turn out well.’

‘That’s no use Ghene,’ said Meggelaine, her voice muffled from her face being buried into Roztov’s chest. ‘Bloody stories of people coming back as goats that could talk. Honestly.’

‘I merely mention it.’

‘Anyway,’ sighed Roztov. ‘We need to return his remains to his family and the armour to the temple. It’s all we can do.’

Two hours later Floran returned, dressed in gendarme armour he caused a stir on the stair well when he was spotted by some of the other residents, but they relaxed when he kept on going up. As he got to the top floor he removed his helmet.

‘Only me,’ he greeted them as he entered.

‘I warned you about the people that lived here, Tup you idiot,’ said Meggelaine as he entered. ‘You will have given them all a scare.’

‘I apologise,’ said Floran. ‘It didn’t occur to me. Is there anything to eat?’

‘Here on the table, this is all that is left. Hard to believe it’s only just lunchtime,’ she observed.

Meggelaine did her best to supply them with a meal from the bags they had managed to take with them that morning. They talked of the battle.

‘That was a disaster from start to finish,’ said Roztov as he chewed on some dried and spicy vegetain meat, ‘A total mess, we can’t go through all that again.’

‘Agreed,’ said Ghene. ‘We need to stay hidden from now on, like mice under the floorboards.’

Meggelaine busied about the table, but there was little for her to do since they were eating the food cold and with no plates or cutlery, so she found a broom and started sweeping the floor.

‘Mice under the floorboards,’ she muttered. ‘There is mice here alright, their droppings are everywhere. This place needs a good scrub.’

Roztov finished his food and went to sit back by the fire, trying to keep away from the fressles cleaning frenzy.

After he too had finished eating, Ghene turned into a rock lizard and scurried off down the stairs to take a look at the docks. He blended in well, rock lizards were everywhere, either scampering around in the shadowy parts of the streets or climbing up and down on the sides of buildings. Sometimes the smarter ones were kept as pets or companions for children. The even more intelligent ones were given messages to deliver or other small errands.

The others either sat by the fire or quietly went about the top floors of the building looking for furniture that was still functional and anything else of interest.

Floran and Arrin found a good bed on the fifth floor that still had a clean enough mattress underneath its dust cover.

‘It looks a bit heavy to drag upstairs, my lord,’ said Arrin.

‘Yes, maybe if Roztov turned into a bear he could carry it, but then, we are trying to keep our presence low key. A bear would probably draw attention.’

‘The people in this building have already seen us, can we trust them?’

‘I don’t know. From what I gather though, people moving from one building to another is not uncommon. Many people in the population are outcasts. That means they are not servants of the dragons. Not free men exactly, more like outlaws, but most folks turn a blind eye to them, even the gendarmes. I should imagine the people in this building assume we are outcasts.’

The walked together to a window and peered out through the dirty and broken glass.

‘Fog moving in again,’ said Arrin. Then after a long pause he said, ‘I can’t believe Broddor is dead.’

Floran sighed. ‘His death sits heavily on me, indeed. I will miss him greatly.’

‘Can he be resurrected, truly?’

Floran thought for a moment or two and then said, ‘We will return his remains, and the armour to his people. The armour is sacred and will be passed onto the next Holy Knight. There must always be twelve, apparently. As to bringing him back. No. My people, have tried for a thousand years to cheat death. They who practice necromancy are a blight on my nation and the nations around it. Even Roztov’s first wife took this dark and evil path after the death of… Well, those who seek to defeat these forces of darkness believe that the dead must stay dead. I am one of them, the Vizards of Heshmatiye, we destroy the undead wherever we find them. My friends forget themselves. They talk of the danger to the world of Garamuda, the dragon known as “Old Bones” on the one hand, but then talk of taking our friend back from the land of the dead on the other. It was double-thinking like that, which led to the mess Nillamandor is in now. The mistakes made in Al-Hamdalla should not be repeated… I find I am delivering a lecture, I apologise.’

Floran smiled and bowed then finally said, ‘They will come to their senses after a few days. Sadly, we are much practiced at burying our friends.’

Ghene returned in the evening, bringing food and drink he had acquired from a dole cart down at the docks.

‘Free beer,’ he explained. ‘Free bread as well. Once a week, or some time period anyway, the carts come around to feed the populace. They can take as much as they want.’

With the beer they toasted the memory of Broddor, standing in the tenement apartment, by the light of the small fire in the hearth. Ghene eased himself into a dusty armchair and nibbled on a crust of the rock hard bread.

‘You need the beer to soak the bread in,’ he muttered. ‘The docks are teaming with gendarmes and busy with fishermen and other workers. I am not a nautical person, but ships arrive with coal and other rocks, perhaps from another island? The city is somewhat agitated, it could be because of us. We get a good view of the docks from here though, I think we will be safe for a while.’

‘You say that,’ said Roztov as he paced around the room, ‘but can we trust the other people in this building? We thought we could trust Honni.’

‘I cannot be sure, of course, but he did know we were outlanders. These people are under the impression we are outlaws and not connected to all of today’s incidents. Each evening we can skulk about as rock lizards and listen into their conversations if you like.’

‘Might be an idea,’ replied Roztov before taking a large swig from his beer bottle. ‘This stuff has been honeyed. It’s not mead though. There is bugger all alcohol in it.’

‘The locals call it Sweetheart. It’s stout,’ said Floran who was now sat on a broken down couch in the shadows at the rear of the room.

‘Broddor would have hated it. It tastes like that stuff you get in those little villages on the west coast of Boreland.’

‘That’s it!’ said Meggelaine as she took another swig. ‘That stuff had a peaty taste from the water though. This stuff tastes of smoke, but otherwise it’s the same. Oh, that time on Boreland, when we were chasing those creatures down into their lairs, what were they?’

‘Niffilbins.’

‘Oh Etruna, yes,’ said Meggelaine as she put her bottle down and rubbed her feet by the fire. ‘We call them something different in Tormland though. Broddor got cornered by six of them and then dragged off. We were an hour looking for him, I was really worried he was dead...’

Meggelaine sniffed and rubbed the tears from her eyes. ‘Those tunnels were like rabbit holes, just twisting around everywhere. He got lost and turned around, and then when he popped up out of the ground, just like a... just like a rabbit really and shouted “I appear!” it was so funny. We all laughed, but we had been so worried. They had witches you know, they could have done anything to him.’

Roztov finally sat down beside her and she rested her head on his side.

‘It’s never going to be the same now, Roz.’

Ghene was at the window now, catching glimpses of the lights down at the docks through gaps in the smoke and fog. ‘We can send Floran down with some of the gold we have left to get some decent supplies. I can’t live off stale bread and sugary stout.’

‘We should all be super careful,’ said Meggelaine, ‘We should lay low and let things settle for a while.’

‘Yes,’ said Ghene with a hint of uncertainty.

‘Listen,’ chided Meggelaine, ‘I know what you two are like, but it all got really messy today. Should we just leave the city altogether do you think, for a while? I don’t have much sympathy for dragons, but all those poor gendarmes and dragonriders we killed, at the end of the day they were just doing their job.’

‘I know,’ said Roztov. ‘It got out of hand, but we are so close now.’ He sighed, finished his beer and gently laid the bottle down on the hearthstone. ‘Close, but this will be the hardest part. How can we take a ship from the harbour unnoticed? How can we sail it with five people even if we manage to steal one?’

‘Not counting me, eh? Charming,’ muttered Meggelaine.

‘Six then, but even so.’

‘One thing at a time,’ said Meggelaine, giving advice that she herself never followed. ‘I’m going to start by cleaning the room next door. It can be for me and Tankle to sleep in.’

Later that night, Roztov and Ghene sat on the roof watching the fog roll past.

‘I want to get in the main tower, take a look inside. We need to find what’s going on with Dreggen. He may be in the city already,’ said Ghene.

‘I agree,’ nodded Roztov, pulling his black cloak closer around his body. ‘We’d best keep it from Meg though, she’s close to cracking.’

‘Oh, she complains a lot, but she’s tough,’ said the elf. ‘You should see her in Council meetings.’

‘To be honest, I’m not that far away from cracking myself. I don’t need a half-crazed fressle on my hands as well. We’d better be gentle with her tomorrow.’

‘Of course.’

‘I don’t know how we go on without Broddor now. How can we? It’s... I don’t know, he was the heart and soul of the Company.’

‘We go on, by going on, Roz. Despite how it may feel sometimes, we are doing important work here. Everything we learn on this island, if we can get it home, will be of great worth. If we can prevent some sort of unholy alliance between the dragons here and Garumuda then perhaps even Broddor’s death will have been worth it.’

‘Maybe, Ghene,’ replied Roztov. Then sat in silence for a while after that, watching the harbour lights.

Ghene and Roztov took the last watch and woke Meggelaine just before dawn.

‘It’s your watch, sweetie,’ said Roztov as he gently shook her shoulder.

‘You are all dressed, where are you going?’

‘Just for a little look around. Nothing serious.’

‘Don’t go anywhere near that tower,’ she said as she sat up from her little bed and rubbed her eyes. ‘I know what you are like. You and Ghene will be drawn to it like moths to a flame. A giant tower full of Etruna-knows-what, it’s irresistible to fools like you.’

‘We won’t go near it.’

‘Think of poor Broddor. None of us are indestructible.’

‘I know,’ he said as he ruffled her hair, ‘We need to scout though. We can’t just sail away from this place, not without being spotted. We need to gather information.’

Meggelaine sighed. ‘Pass me my tunic. Well, go then, if you must, but if you love me, then take care.’

‘We will,’ said Roztov. As he leaned over to get her shirt he gave her a kiss on the forehead. ‘See you later sweetie.’

Ghene was already waiting for Roztov on the roof. ‘All good?’

‘She’s on edge, but surviving. Anyway, let’s go.’

They turned into rock lizards and scampering from rooftop to rooftop they headed directly towards the huge central tower of Stovologard.

Meggelaine and Tankle shared a room, but when she woke, she noticed that Tankle was not around. Arrin was still asleep where them men’s bedroom was, snoring quietly. With no one to make breakfast for, after she was dressed and had eaten, she went downstairs to the room where the big double bed had been found. As she suspected, Tankle was asleep in it with Floran. She did not wake them, but with nothing better to do she started trying a few doors to see what was to be seen.

She went down another floor and reaching up to the handle, found a door that lead into what would have once been quite a fine apartment. In a glass cabinet she saw what looked like a decent dinner service.

‘I’ll take this upstairs,’ she said to herself. ‘They can eat off this, the bunch of savages, leaving crumbs everywhere.’

Meggelaine started sorting through some of the cups, saucers and plates. It all had sat here for years, but she could see it was good quality. She hummed a little tune as she worked, then stopped as she notice a little girl watching her from the doorway. She was dressed in a long black cloak, but her hood and mask were pulled back. Like many of the people Meggelaine saw around here she had a black line of soot across her eyes.

‘Oh hello dear,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Oops. You won’t understand a word I’m saying.’

Meggelaine noticed the girl had a dirty bandage on her left hand. ‘Let’s take a look at that dear. Come closer, I won’t harm you.’

The girl hesitated, but who she saw before her, was so small and childlike as to appear utterly harmless. She said something in draconic that Meggelaine didn’t understand. The girl watched as this miniature woman approached her and took her hand. Meggelaine unwound the dirty bandage and looked at the infected wound beneath it.

‘Oh, that must be terribly sore. Let me heal that for you.’

The girl gasped as blue light began to glow between their hands, but did not draw away.

‘That feels better doesn’t it?’ asked Meggelaine as the wound healed.

The girl held up her hand and smiled in wonder. She then looked down at the fressle and walked back to the door. She gestured to Meggelaine to follow her.

‘Well, fine dear,’ said the fressle, ‘but I’m coming back for that dinner set.’

After he woke, Floran kissed Tankle goodbye and went down into the streets to buy food. He was the only one that spoke the language and had learned to pass himself off as someone from the south. When he returned at lunchtime he found Meggelaine had set up another clinic. Tankle had been pressed into acting as a nurse again and met Floran on the stairs as he came up, carrying two bags of shopping.

‘She’s at it again, Tup,’ said Tankle.

Floran sighed and entered the room that Meggelaine was using. There were two men there, one of whom was sat on the floor as the little fressle looked in his mouth.

‘If Roztov catches you doing this you’ll get into trouble Meg,’ said Floran. ‘He’ll probably say that if word gets about that there is some kind of magical midget in this house then you’ll bring the gendarmes down on us, don’t you think? I don’t want anyone to be angry with you.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Meggelaine, ‘But this man has an abscess the size of a quail’s egg. Take a look.’

Floran peered into the man’s mouth, then grimaced and took a step back.

‘Nasty.’

The man gave him a pitiful look.

‘Well, at least move your clinic over to the other side of the street. Then you can keep it secret from Roz.’

‘I will, I will. I’ll do it after I’ve attended to these men. Once you’ve put the shopping away, go over the road and find me a good place, would you dear?’

Floran smiled and said that he would, and left before he was given any more jobs to do.

Later that evening, Roztov and Ghene returned to the top floor, flying in through the broken window. Floran and Arrin were playing cards at the table.

‘Where is Meggelaine?’ asked Roztov.

‘She’s doing house calls,’ replied Floran in a measured tone.

‘Oh for the love of... I’d better go get her.’

They returned together some time later, Roztov carrying all the small gifts Meggelaine had received from the people she had healed.

‘You should be more careful, Em,’ chided Roztov gently as he set down all the gifts on the table. ‘Someone is bound to tell on us.’

‘Well, you two went to that tower didn’t you?’ she retorted tartly. ‘Didn’t you?’

She gave Roztov and Ghene both a pointed look.

‘We did,’ admitted Roztov. ‘But it was all fine. Let’s just eat dinner, shall we?’

That evening, their main room that was now filled with more furniture, dragged through from other abandoned rooms. None of it was in very good condition, but it was usable. Tankle and Arrin sat at a table playing a board game that they were making up the rules for. Meggelaine, Roztov and Ghene talked together, sat on the armchairs by the fire. Floran sat at the back of the room, in his favourite place where it was darkest. All of them were still eating.

‘The tower is incredible,’ admitted Ghene. ‘Bigger than one of the Dynarian mariners tower’s of legend.  There are no armed men there, they hardly need gendarmes to guard them, but there are plenty of human servants attending to their needs. Lots of rock lizards too, running errands and delivery messages. Each dragon has their own retinue of servants, sometimes in their own livery. We saw a lot of coming and going.’

‘Anything that might help us?’ asked Meggelaine.

‘Nothing today, but it’s where everything happens. It’s the centre of the city.’

‘Probably spent most of your time arguing over the crafting of pillars,’ she muttered.

‘In actual fact, you raise an interesting point,’ said Roztov. ‘Who indeed crafted that entire edifice? There are carvings reminiscent of the Chasm, and yet it all much newer. I saw some human mason’s carrying out repairs and they knew what they were doing. It must be aided by magic to stand so tall and we did see some dragons using magic.’

‘But most do not,’ said Ghene. ‘Perhaps they number the same small amount as in the nations of men. We’ve not come across any areas of the tower dedicated to the study of magic though. Perhaps they don’t.’

‘We’ll find out at some point,’ said Roztov before returning to the topic of architecture. ‘They have these big long halls, with tall vaulted ceilings. The dragons keep their own chambers. Some are organised into broods while the nobles have virtual palaces all to themselves. On the higher levels there are, well, how to describe them, like town squares, where the dragons meet and discuss things.’

‘We didn’t go all the way up,’ said Ghene. ‘It was reminiscent of the Spire though, in layout. Slightly less refined in appearance, more solid.’

‘We talked to some of the other rock lizards too, they are a happy lot. They have no knowledge of their kin in the Chasm. The serve the dragons only for the joy of it,’ said Roztov.

‘And yet, not all their servants are so happy,’ added Ghene. ‘We saw a dragon throw one of its human servants from the window for some minor slight. They punish the humans too, by incinerating them. I talked to a woman who told me that if one of them falls pregnant they have to hide it or the dragons will kill them. They want to keep the human population down, perhaps because there are too many to feed, I’m not sure, and they slay any woman within the tower who they find with child. They smuggle their babies down into the tenements to be raised as foundlings.’

‘That’s horrible,’ said Meggelaine. ‘This place...’

‘It’s dreadful, but think about this, compared to countries like Lunaria or Gnarlwold back in Nillamandor the people here are still better off. Better fed for a start.’

‘Oh, don’t bring up Gnarlwold Ghene, I’m at the end of my tether as it is.’

The conversation stopped for a while as a tin of biscuits was passed around.

Roztov looked over the back of his chair, offering the tin back to the others. ‘Are you still awake, Tup?’

‘Still here, yes,’ replied the wizard, waving the tin away.

‘What news of the harbour, what news on the streets?’

Floran cleared his throat then gave his report. ‘Things seem normal, well, normal for this place. People are getting on with their lives. I heard talk of the dragons we killed today, but it was discussed with no great urgency.’

‘Surely they must have every gendarme in the city looking for us after that though?’

‘Yes, but they think we we’re Spire dragons in disguise. From what I gather from listening to the gossip at the dole carts it is attributed to Spire dragon agitators, these things are not uncommon apparently and since the recent escalation of war with the south such an attack had been expected.’

‘I suppose that makes sense.’

‘Apparently the Spire has always been sending spies into Stovologard,’ continued Floran, warming to the theme, but not rising from his couch. ‘Dragon’s in disguise, like Mordran, that’s why some of the Stovologard dragons have those blue talismans, as a means of detection.’

‘But they are still looking for us?’ asked Roztov.

‘Yes, but they are trying to detect dragons disguised as men, which we are not. That may help us stay hidden. The feeling I get is that no one would ever believe that people would be powerful enough to fight dragons head on.’

‘Could be,’ mused Roztov. ‘Tomorrow, ask about why there so many empty and derelict apartments. Stovologard feels past its prime, I wonder what happened.’

‘I can, but I don’t think anyone knows. They keep no history and learning is not encouraged,’ replied Floran with a hint of scorn in his voice.

‘It is passing strange,’ said Roztov munching on a honey-coated biscuit. ‘I hope we get to stay long enough for me to understand how this city actually works.’

The next morning they ate breakfast together, sweet honey rolls and a form of jellied fruit that was thick and chewy.

‘They eat this for breakfast?’ asked Meggelaine. ‘It has an earthy taste. Blackberries went into this I think.’

‘Try one of these cakes, there is something that tastes like chocolate in it,’ said Floran passing over a paper bag.

‘This is good, I think that might actually be real cocoa in it, and some kind of fruit. When you go out, ask them what went into these will you?’

Floran bowed and said that he would. He was too polite to point out to Meggelaine that this was not information that anyone needed to achieve any of their current goals, just as he had not pointed out the night before to Roztov that his questions about social history and architecture were also of limited value to their current predicament. When he went out into the streets and talked to the friendly people there, in truth he spent a lot of his time talking of inconsequential matters. Floran was quiet by nature, and draconic was not his native tongue, but he felt he was doing his best. The first thing he planned to find out was how the pieces moved on the game board they had discovered in an abandoned apartment and what the symbols on all the playing cards meant.  

Floran was first to leave, taking two empty bags with him. As she tidied up the breakfast things, Meggelaine chatted away to her fellow druids. ‘Listen, I was thinking Roz, if you must go into that tower, why not find that girlfriend of yours and see if she can help us?’

‘Shumakkak?’ asked Roztov as he swallowed a mouthful of roll, ‘but she’s a chasm dragon, how can she help us here?’

‘Not her, you dolt, the other one!’

‘You mean Lorkuvan?’

‘Etruna’s love!’ groaned Meggelaine. ‘How many other dragon girlfriends do you have? Go find her, see if she can help.’

‘Yes,’ joined in Ghene.  ‘We need to know what’s going on. Roz, hunt down that dragon you shagged.’

Roztov put down the roll he was eating. ‘Ghene is using Stykian slang words on me now. Listen, you two. Firstly, I did not shag Lorkuvan. Secondly, she could be anywhere, and thirdly she may owe me a favour, but are dragons known for the returning of favours? Not that I know of.’

‘It’s worth a try though,’ said Meggelaine.

‘I agree. She’s a diplomat, correct? She must have some sense then. I’m sure if she’s in the tower we can find her. You should talk to her. Find out if she knows anything. We need to know what’s going on.’

‘Don’t get distracted,’ sighed Meggelaine. ‘If you find out anything about you-know-who that’s fine, but getting off this island is the most important thing. I can’t take much more of this and its Arrin and Tankle I feel sorry for.’

The conversation stopped for a while as Meggelaine joined the other two at the fire with three bottles of stout. They popped the corks and each took a swig.

‘Cheers. This is barely drinkable,’ said Roztov. ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’

‘Shagging dragons. Who is going to believe it when we get back?’ said Meggelaine in a sudden outburst of laughter. ‘Well, what was it like then? I’m surprised Broddor never asked you.’

‘He knew I am a gentleman,’ replied Roztov primly. ‘And I would never reveal the secrets between a man and err... a dragon. Well, regardless of the circumstances I hold it as a general rule never to bandy around a ladies name.’

‘Get her,’ said Meggelaine pointing her thumb at her friend. She was about to say something about what his wife’s opinion on the subject might be, but then thought better of it and held her tongue, something that for Meggelaine was a considerable achievement.

After they had finished breakfast, Ghene and Roztov returned to the tower of Stovologard once again, disguised as rock lizards. They split up and worked their way through the floors and stairwells, looking for anything they could find that might lead them to Lorkuvan.

Roztov thought they had no chance of finding her, reasoning that she might not even be in the tower anyway, so instead spent most of the day examining the architecture and asking the other rock lizards about it.

He was hanging out in the impressive entranceway of a dragon’s apartment when a tall man in expensive looking robes came out with a rolled up parchment and waved it at him. ‘You there!’ said the man. ‘You look like a fine fellow, can you deliver this for me?’

Roztov the rock lizard looked up at the man. ‘Where to?’

‘Three levels up, the apartment of Lady Fiewa. It has a blue door, ask for directions when you get to the third floor. You know your numbers?’

As the man talked he fastened a collar around Roztov’s neck then tucked the scroll into a slit in the leather.

‘No worries,’ said Roztov getting into character. ‘You can count on me, boss.’

‘Good chap, there will be a bowl of scraps in it for you.’

Roztov scampered off and had no great difficulty in finding the apartment of Lady Fiewa. It did indeed have a blue door, tall and decorated in lapis lazuli. He had no way of opening it, so merely scampering up it and through the ventilation gap above it into the courtyard beyond.

His breath was taken away by what he saw on the other side, a green marble space, with tall ferns and orchids growing in pots the size of cauldrons. There was a fountain in the middle of the space and the sound of trickling water drew him towards it. It was like being in the opulent garden of a Stykian noble. There were hundreds of plants, big and small, the marble columns had well tended ivy climbing up them, and there was even an area of grass near a set of tall windows. It was a whole other world from the smoky city just a few hundred meters below.

There was a young man re-potting plants not far from the fountain. He looked up as Roztov approached. ‘Yes?’

‘Message for Lady Fiewa, boss,’ he replied, pointing at the collar on his neck, still enjoying being in the character of a cheeky rock lizard.

‘Just go in,’ said the young man, pointing at a doorway with his trowel.

Roztov scampered up some steps and through the open doorway. There was an elegant corridor beyond it, with tall paintings mounted along one wall, landscapes depicting scenes from around the island of Tanud. Whoever had painted them had an eye for beautiful scenes, mused Roztov as he paused to admire them. Here was one of a quaint mountain village, with its tall roofs, there was one depicting a sunset over the Chasm, the Spire a silhouette in the distance.

He was admiring another picture, trying to figure out whereabouts it could be depicting when a female voice from the other end of the corridor spoke. ‘It’s the forest south of the Chasm, a mountain called Eldernarra is what you see in the distance. I’ve never known rock lizards to be interested in art.’

Roztov turned to see a tall lady, in her early sixties, dressed in a green velvet gown, with long white hair tied back in a braid. ‘Oh, sorry, lady. Got a message for you.’

Come into the study, said the lady as she turned and left. Roztov scampered along behind her and entered another, smaller, area that was also full of plants, but had a writing desk and several bookcases in one corner. There was an open window across from the desk that offered a view north across the city to the fog wall beyond the harbour. She went to it and beckoned him up onto the windowsill. He raised his head and she unfastened the collar from his neck.

‘Go to the kitchen my lad, the cook will give you some scraps.’

‘Oh aye, fair enough,’ said Roztov, but his eyes were still drawn to the view. There was a strong wind blowing from the south and this was the clearest view he had of the city since he had got here. It was incredibly impressive, in a ramshackle sort of way. He could see thousands of tenement buildings, there black roofs all leaning in on each other like drunks at a wake. His eyes followed the lines of the streets, he thought he could see where they had fought against Neith, then carefully he traced the route he thought led to where they were now living.

Lady Fiewa had finished reading her message and looked up. ‘You linger?’

‘I can see me house from here.’

‘You are an unusual sort of fellow for a rock lizard,’ she said as she walked back over to the window. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Err... Roztov.’

‘You are a city lizard?’

‘I guess so, probably,’ replied Roztov. ‘Tell you what though, how come you have such a fancy apartment, seeing are you are not a dragon? I like your garden.’

‘You do, do you?’ she said as she looked him in the eyes with a curious expression.

Roztov, realising he was probably slipping out of character hopped down from the windowsill and made for the door. ‘Anyway, kitchen, and all that. Cook, is it? Scraps, yummy yum yum.’

‘Just one moment,’ said the lady as she raised her arms to cast a spell. Yellow light surrounded Roztov and he gulped, ‘hey steady on’ as he turned to look at her.

As he turned, he grew taller, until he was a man again. He held up his hands, palms out to show he meant no harm. ‘I’m not here to cause trouble.’

He flinched as Lady Fiewa raised her hands to cast another spell.

(G369 15/09/2018 via Roll20 - AP(GM), JF) RL13

(G369 15/09/2018 via Roll20 - AP(GM), JF) RL13

[Well, dear reader! I think I may have finally got my journals more or less in order now. This entry will chronicle the last of Sylvia and I's adventures in Damara and just about get us concurrent with Fenrir in Westgate.]

DAY 359 (26th Alturaik)(February) cont...

You may remember that myself and Sylvia were part of an attack on the castle of evil vampire chap Baron Von Strahd. It was being led by King Gareth of Damara.

Somewhat overwhelmed by the amount of zombies we had just set loose in the cellars of the castle we hastened to the exit and I used a 'Wood Shape' spell to seal the door. After that we headed up into the main castle to report our findings to the king.

The king and his retinue of powerful paladins had defeated Strahd, but each time the killed him, he would slowly begin to reform. Constantly battering a reforming vampire was not a permanent solution so when we entered the king asked us for advice.

I relayed what the wise woman had told us at the gypsy camp and after much discussion it was decided that since we had the Sunsword and the Holy Symbol already, all that was needed was the Tome. Troops were sent to search the castle and eventually it was found down in the cellar where all the zombies were.

We watched as King Gareth took the three magical items and performed some powerful holy rituals to rid the world of Strahd. Once that was done, it was like a dark cloud had been lifted off the land, an oppression that had been weighing down on us since our arrival in the area had now gone.

Surprisingly the king handed back the Sunsword and Holy Symbol back to us. I mean, they were ours, since we'd found the symbol and purchased the sword, so I suppose that was fair.

The castle was cleared from top to bottom and all prisoners that were found were released. We found Tie-Pie and Yli, but Tie-Pie was dead and Yli was a zombie.
We laid them to rest in two small graves in the forest not far from the castle. All the other zombies, now that they were properly dead, the king had burned in a mass funeral pyre.


DAY 369 (6th Ches)(March)

Ten days have now passed since the end of Strahd. We returned to Barovia where myself and Gevyen Tallmer have been studying and discussing the Sunsword and the Holy Symbol.

I could wield the sword if I wished I think, but it is no simple undertaking to do so and would require sacrifices that I feel I am not perhaps up to yet.
The symbol is the same, it has certain properties that would be useful to Sylvia and yet, she is not well suited to hold it. We will take care of these incredible artifacts for the moment though.

(Needless to say I have also spent a lot of my time studying the local flora and fauna, folklore, architecture and anything else that has drawn my interest.)

The King has appointed another Baron to replace Strahd from among his nobles and Barovia is being set to rights. Irena is the new burgomaster and we have been staying at her mansion house.

I have come to quite enjoy the company of Irena, and of Ashlyn but today myself and Sylvia decided it was time to say our farewells and move on.

Not least because I had received magical word (via a Sending spell) from my wife.
She had visited her home in Sasserine apparently and after some soul searching decided that she had forgiven me and wanted a reconciliation.

From what I gathered when she left Waterdeep (DAY 278) it took her 21 days to sail to Sasserine in the Sea Wyvern. She then stayed there for 20 days, attending to family business. Next she had some business to attend to in Cormyr, which she reached via the canal that joins the Lake of Steam to the Nagawater. It was around  that time that Fenrir saw Captain Crispy. Well, she knew I was 'in the area' so sent  me a Sending spell to see if I wanted a lift. I said yes. She now intends to sail to Heliogabulus and meet us there.

DAY 370 (7th Ches)(March)

Today I released Fluffy from his service. He had been a very good Animal Companion but it felt best to leave him in his natural habitat.

We had one last dinner and a few drinks with out friends in Barovia tonight at Irena's mansion.

DAY 371 (8th Ches)(March)

We flew down to Heliogabulus today, me as a Giant Owl, with Sylvia riding on my back.
We found a nice inn and settled in to wait for the Sea Wyvern.

Of late I have been getting nightmares. Sylvia says she feels fine, but she has the  power of Sylvanus protecting her. I think now that we are somewhere safe I have relaxed and now we are not spending all our waking moments either fighting the undead or thinking about how to fight the undead, I find that my thoughts are now awash with fear, anxiety and worry.

What a world we live in. The people of Heliogabulus go about their daily business, buying food for their dinner, drinking ale in the tavern, little knowing that not far to their north the countryside was swarming with undead. These people don't have all the magic that I do either, to protect them in direst need.

I shall spend my time studying the town and sampling all the local eating establishments in an effort to take my mind of such thoughts.

DAY 379 (16th Ches)(March)

It has been eight days since we arrived at Heliogabulus. I knew to expect them today and right enough the Sea Wyvern hauled into the harbour today, late in the afternoon.

It was lovely to see my wife and friends again, although in truth it had not been that long since I had seen them last. Nobby has crewed the Sea Wyvern with more gnomes but most of them I still recognise.

There are:
Lavinia - My lovely wife, who is currently 'in charge'
Nobby - my friend from Sasserine, a gnomish cleric and part owner of the Sea Wyvern.
Captain Crispy - reformed pirate and captain of the ship
Urol Furol - dirty gnomish druid and navigator
Lirith - ginger haired roguish lass
Skald - scout and look out
Hasyayoga - laughing monk
Meree - lady gnome ranger
Molly (and Boots) - my young helper and her pet monkey
Parry - lady cleric of Kossuth
Tavey Nesk - cabin boy
Eriss - lady gnome sorcerer - back with the crew now after her adventures in Chult

Oh, I should also mention, a few days ago I had a message from Cavu, along the lines of 'I hear you are an expert in slaying vampires these days, perhaps you could pop into Westgate on your way back and offer your sage wisdom to some of my agents there?'

It seemed like a reasonable request.

(G368 08/09/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA44

(G368 08/09/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA44


DAY 396  (4th Tarsakh)(April)

When Fenrir was getting dressed this morning he found that his trousers were getting rather tight. Checking himself in the mirror it dawned on him that he had been putting on weight.
He then realised that it was probably because he spent a lot of his working day sitting around eating and drinking and when he did move about, as often as not it was with his magic wings, leaving his legs with nothing to do.

He resolved to do less floating and more walking from now on.

The Day Air Watch today was Relleme, Nors and Marrok.

After work he walked home, and bumped into a man who knew him, Hrumkle the bookmaker. Fenrir vaguely remembered this was a bookie that didn't like him after a big win on the horses a while back, but the man was very friendly.
When he asked for a favour involving horses Fenrir did the old 'point, go invisible and fly away trick'.

He had a nice healthy salad for his dinner tonight.


DAY 397 (5th Tarsakh)(April)

The Air Watch today consisted of Fenrir, Relleme, Nors and Marrok.

They also received another recruit, a young lady called Oloe. She was from some southern mountain tribe or other, so considered a 'savage' by city standards.
Varen Malavhan had sent her along from the Mercenary's Guild with a note that said, 'She'd make an average, at best, mercenary, but she does have one attribute that might be useful to you.'
She did indeed, as she was blessed with a large pair of white wings that grew out of her back. When asked, she explained that there many people in her tribe that had wings.

Fenrir could see that she knew how to use a crossbow, but other than that and her wings she was in all other ways unremarkable.

After work Fenrir decided he would take a look at this horse in Castle Cormariel. It didn't sound like a terribly onerous task that the demon's had set him, merely to watch a horse.
Invisible, he flew there directly after work.

He managed to sneak past the guards, some of whom were using eyes of True Seeing to keep an watch over the barbican and inner courtyard. He then managed to sneak into the stables.

There were horses in here, as you might expect, but none of the stalls were named. Fenrir had a moderately good eye for a fine horse though and saw one being cared for gently by a young groom.
'Big day tomorrow, Baby. You'd better win that race, I've bet everything I own on you!' said the young fellow.

Fenrir flew up into the rafters and waited. People came and went, but eventually the stable was just the horses and the groom whom apparently planned to spend the whole night with the horse.

Around midnight there was a pop of magic as three men teleported into the stable. They were a wizard unknown to Fenrir, Hrumkle and another young man.
Fenrir instantly hit them with a chained eldritch blast, the led fell, but the other two men still stood.
Before Fenrir could land another blast, Hrumkle cried 'my son' and lifted up the lad. As he held him, the wizard teleported them back out of the stable.

Fenrir then went invisible again and left the stable. He then hid in a small ruined building nearby and watched for a while. The guard yelled and summoned guards, but they didn't believe his wild story of wizards and magic flying about. Fenrir realised that he wanted to get the castle on high alert though, incase the dopers came back, so he shot a blast at the feet of a passing guard then flew off into the night.

He got home without running into the Night Air Watch.

DAY 398 (6th Tarsakh)(April)

The Air Watch today consisted of Fenrir, Relleme, Nors, Marrok and Oloe.

Fenrir decided to go put some bets on at the races, at the same track out of town where he had made his last pile of cash.

He placed bets with four different bookies for a total of 1300gp all on Mary Hinge who was the favourite. Along with the whole of the DAW he watched the race from the air.
As the race was run, Relleme saw three suspicious looking characters in hoods stood at the track side about a hundred yards back from the finish line.
They all went down and confronted them. It was indeed Hrumkle, his son and the wizard. Hrumkle cried 'I'm ruined!' as the wizard teleported them out.

Mary Hinge won the race and Fenrir went to collect his winnings. One of the bookies could not be found so Fenrir sent his men flying around trying to find them, following random horse riders and such.
Marrok, on his own initiative, found the last bookie hiding in the latrines and recovered 750gp from him. Fenrir gratefully handed back 50gp (while wondering what happened to the other 250gp probably!).

That evening he took all of them all out for a drink and posh nosh at the Jolly Warrior. Relleme left after a couple of drinks. Marrok got roaringly drunk, was wild for a while but then calmed down and was more fun after a server told him off. Nors went the distance but did not drink all that much as was somewhat shy. Oloe, not used to alcohol, got  wildly drunk and had to be pulled down off the table on more than one occasion. She even tried to kiss Fenrir, but he (unusually for him) did not take advantage of her. By four in the morning they had had their fill and Fenrir took them all back to his house for the night (all piled onto Marrok's magic carpet, travelling at ground level). Nors whistled in surprise when they arrived, 'Some place, how can you afford this on a watchman's salary?'

'I am independently wealthy,' smirked Fenrir.

DAY 399 (7th Tarsakh)(April)

The Air Watch today consisted of Fenrir, Relleme, Nors, Marrok and Oloe.
All were bright and breezy, either of firm constitutions or still drunk.


DAY 400 (8th Tarsakh)(April)

The Air Watch today consisted of Fenrir, Relleme, Nors, Marrok and Oloe.

DAY 401 (9th Tarsakh)(April)

The Air Watch today consisted of Fenrir, Relleme, Nors, Marrok and Oloe.
There was heavy rain today, which accounted for the fact that they did not see the flying army of troglodytes until they were quite close up.

Fenrir sent Oloe down to get reinforcements as he realised he'd probably need them.

(G367 01/09/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA43

(G367 01/09/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA43

[Meanwhile, back in Westgate, the Day Air Watch were about to earn their pay.]

DAY 386 (24th Ches)(March)

It was an overcast day today when Fenrir, Zeni and Relleme met up for another round of protecting the skies over Westgate. It was business as usual, they were watching the city from the highest tower on the south wall, when one of them spotted a large bulbous object floating up from behind a temple spire.
It was about fifteen feet across, but the tentacles dangling from its main round body were almost thirty feet long. They didn't know it at the time but it was some kind of monstrously huge grell.
It was unnaturally fast too, once it had cleared the spire it came towards the wall almost as fast as an eagle in flight. Fenrir managed to shoot it a couple of times but it still made it to the tower and entwined the top of it with its some of its tentacles while using the others to lash out at its attackers.
One stung Fenrir and paralysed him. Unable to move his arms or speak, he was helpless to prevent Zeni being killed and her body being dragged up into the things huge beak.
Relleme dragged Fenrir down the stairs of the tower just as he was realising that the magic of his wings was still working. As the paralysis faded he made his way back up to the top of the tower, but the grell was flying south, off into the distance. He sent Relleme to tell Trepplemar of Zeni's death.

An hour later Trepplemar herself showed up. She said that they would send someone to attempt to follow the grell and see where it went. Fenrir went and took a look at the part of the city the monster had come from and found a four storey house with half its roof missing. Inside the roof was a room that looked like a wizard's laboratory. He helped himself to a couple of things that looked magical and left.


DAY 387 (25th Ches)(March)

And so the Day Air Watch today was just Fenrir and Relleme. Zeni was buried later that evening in a grave paid for by the watch.

Afterwards Fenrir invited Relleme back to his house and they had a few drinks to Zeni's memory. In truth neither of them had known her that long or that well.

Relleme left at about ten, flying home on her Giant Celestial Bee "Honey".


DAY 388 (26th Ches)(March)

Another day in the Air Watch for Fenrir. A mithril shirt was organised for Relleme and some potions of Mage Armour.

After work, as he relaxed at home, Jasper the housekeeper came to tell him there was a gentleman at the door called Erinod Bale.
Hmm, that name rings a bell, thought Fenrir to himself.

It was, of course, the baker he had murdered six days ago, resurrected somehow and now come for a visit. He was wearing his best clothes, presumably, although one sleeve of his coat was frayed and his hat was crooked.

When they were alone in the drawing room Mr Bale spoke.
'Hello, Mr Thunderstaff!'
'No one here of that name,' retorted Fenrir.
'Oh, don't worry, where I have been - we know you very well.'
'Where have you been?'
'The lowest pits of hell, thanks to you!'
They exchanged threats and bandied some more words. Mr Bale was not at all well disposed towards Fenrir at all.
'I'll take my leave of you now young man. I'll be back soon though, when we have another job for you. Take care of yourself.'

Fenrir was worried, perhaps, but not overly concerned, this was far from his first dealings with demons. Still, he did go and talk to Veddic about spells such as 'Glyph of Warding' and 'Forbiddance'.


DAY 389 (27th Ches)(March)

Just Fenrir and Relleme again today in the watch. At some point Fenrir went again to Trepplemar to talk about recruiting more people for the DAW.
Again she said, 'Yes. Do it!'

Towards the latter part of his shift, Fenrir sat on a chair on the top of the tallest tower on the South Wall, eating and drinking his favourite Westgate food and drink.
(Wafer thin fried potatoes flavoured with salt or cheese and dried onions, washed down with a pint of a local drink that sounds vile to me called 'Vokank Ola'. As far as I can make out it consists mainly of carbonated water mixed with various root extracts that give it its nasty black colour. It's alcoholic kick comes from a shot of fermented potato peelings. It sounds foul, it is foul, but Fenrir had developed a strong taste for it and often drank two or three pints of the stuff in one sitting.)

Trepplemar had said he could recruit during work time so he flew over to the temple of Lythander, known as the 'Morningstar Haven'.
He managed to talk to Lady Sunrise Tylanna of the Seventh Rose, who was a paladin and head of the temple.
They talked for half an hour or so and she said that she would see what she could do, but that 'we are just twenty-four clerics, paladins and adepts here.
We are kept busy enough healing the sick and injured of they city. I think the city is better served by us being here.'

Back at his chair, necking another pint of 'Ola' he indulged in some moaning.
'Huh! The temples will be no help! I don't know what to do now. I don't know the city well enough.'

'Well, boss...' said Relleme, who had been in Westgate an even shorter time than Fenrir and was rapidly turning out to be the brains of this operation. 'I could think of a few things.'
Fenrir shrugged and made a gesture for her to speak.
'Well, boss, haven't you got that friend you sometimes mention, you said he's a "random" sort of fellow, but has lots of money or something. Then there is the Mercenary Guild, the recruitment guy is called Varen Malavhan. From what I've heard he's a nice fellow, maybe he would know someone. Oh, and have you specifically asked around in the regular ground watch if there is anyone that wants to join? I mean, we've a spare broomstick now, poor Zeni, all we need is some tough guy with a crossbow to sit on it. Oh, and here's another idea, that guy that writes the chapbook stories about the Air Watch, what's his name? Oh, it's Modrick Templeman. You could track him down and bung him a few gold for a puff piece on us and make out it would be a great thing to do, join the watch I mean. Might get a few folks that way...'

Fenrir was astounded, and nearly dropped his glass of 'Ola'. It looked liked Relleme was full of ideas. 'Yeah, right,' he said. 'I'll try all those things...'

After work Fenrir flew over to Spectre Island and talked to Random.
'I can probably find and send a few fellows.'
Fenrir stressed that quality was more important than quantity, Random agreed and said he would see what he could do.
   
DAY 390 (28th Ches)(March)

Today Fenrir went and talked to Varen Malavhan, a large man who was in charge of recruitment for the large Mercenary outfit that was effectively Westgate's standing army. He was a friendly enough sort of chap and promised to send along anyone that perhaps didn't quite fit with his Guild, but were possibly more suited to the Watch. If this was a thinly veiled insult Fenrir either missed it or ignored it.

He also talked to Trepplemar about recruiting from the ground based watch and then tracked down Modrick Templeman and had lunch with him. He paid him the princely sum of 50 gold and the chapbook writer promised to do Fenrir some very good pieces. Laughing over their drinks, Fenrir suggested that a few things like 'ladies love the men of the air watch' should be put in (forgetting that his last two recruits had been ladies!) and such like.
They parted on good terms, Templeman saying 'This money will contribute to a play I plan to put on!'


DAY 391 (29th Ches)(March)

Today a tough fighter was sent up from the ground based watch. He was well equipped with platemail and a heavy crossbow. His name was Nors. He tried out the broomstick of flying and while it was not easy for him ("Can't get the hang of this bastard") he decided to stick at it.
Fenrir judged him to be good, happy-go-lucky, sort of fellow who was their to genuinely help out.

DAY 392 (30th Ches)(March)

Fenrir, Relleme and Nors patrolled the skies over Westgate today.

DAY 393 (1st Tarsakh)(April)

Fenrir, Relleme and Nors patrolled the skies over Westgate today.

DAY 394 (2nd Tarsakh)(April)

Fenrir, Relleme and Nors patrolled the skies over Westgate today.

Another recruit turned up today, another tough looking fighter called Marrok. He was a very ugly half-orc and had read about how being in the Air Watch would help him with the "ladies - hur, hur, hur!".
Fenrir could see the fellow was strong and well armoured, and even better, was in possession of a magic carpet. He sent him straight down to the bottom of the tower to get signed up.

After work, back at his house, Fenrir received another visit from Mr Bale. He had a request which boiled down to this:
'There is a horse race in four days, there is a horse called "Mary Hinge" that will run in it. It is currently stabled in Castle Cormariel and someone is going to try and knobble it the night before the race. We want you, Fenrir, to prevent that knobbling.'

What purpose this served Mr Bale and his demon backers he would not be drawn on. Fenrir said he'd look into it.


DAY 395 (3rd Tarsakh)(April)

Today the Day Air Watch was Fenrir, Relleme, Nors and Marrok.

They encountered a lady arriving in the city by air. She seemed to be flying with the aid of a magical tablet that she held in both hands.

It turned out it was Harlis Javil, a women I'd once met in Chult. What were all these people connected to the Sea Wyvern doing flying around or past Westgate - you may well ask. I may even get round to writing about it at some point.
In any event, Fenrir didn't know this, but he liked the look of her and escorted her to the nearest tavern so she could wet her dry throat.

Chapter 17 – The Streets of Stovologard (4994)(DRAFT)

Chapter 17 – The Streets of Stovologard (4994)

Almost at the same instant, it began to rain. The rain pushed the smog down into the streets and yards of Stovologard. Roztov looked up, he could see the rooftops, even though he could not see more than a half dozen paces ahead. Broddor disappeared into the fog as arrows, fired by the gendarmes, either clattered off his armour or went wide.

Ghene, having lost his bow, turned into a bear, roared, then charged forward. More arrows flew through the fog. Roztov could hear them more than he could see them, zipping through the mist. One or two came close, but none hit him.

As Broddor and Ghene pushed the gendarmes back down the alley and the others prepared for battle, he stood where he was, appraising the situation. Looking up through the rain that was falling like lances from the narrow patch of sky above, he could see the dark forms of dragons perching on the rooftops of the surrounding tenements. There would be no escape in that direction, but it did prove that in the narrow alleys and small courtyards the dragons dared not tread. Judging by the size of them, they’d have would have no room to unfold their wings and would have a hard time climbing back out again. The dragons looked young and black, probably manhunters, joining this hunt for sport.

Up ahead, where Broddor and Ghene were fighting at the other end of the alley that led to the courtyard they had become trapped in, was suddenly lit up by dragon flame. There was enough room, apparently, for a dragon to land, out on the wider street. The fire burned off some of the fog and Roztov could see there was a young black dragon some distance behind the gendarmes. Ghene the bear, came bounding back, his fur blackened and smoking in the rain.

‘The dragon’s won’t risk their lives fighting in the alleys!’ shouted Roztov in Enttish. ‘We should fight the gendarmes here. Broddor, fall back, let them come!’

Roztov then turned into an enormous bear and roared so loudly all the gendarmes took a step backwards. This gave Broddor time enough to grudgingly join the others.

The gendarmes fired another volley of arrows, but Meggelaine had already anticipated this and had weaved a wall of wind in front of them that blew the arrows high into the air. The missiles then landed harmlessly off to the side, their force spent.

The gendarmes hesitated, not sure how to take on such powerful magic, but a burst of dragon fire at their feet spurred them on. They cautiously walked through the barrier of wind and found that although it made their arrows fly untrue it was not strong enough to stop a fully armoured man.

When they realised this, a group of about twenty men yelled a war cry and charged forward. Broddor swung at the first man that entered the courtyard, cleaving the man’s spear and cutting into his shoulder. Two more stabbed at the dwarf with spears, but the points skidded off his armour. On either side of Broddor the two bears held the gendarmes at bay, a wall of fur that their spears could not get past. Roztov clawed aside a spear and cuffed a man to the ground with such force it killed him instantly. He was stabbed by two spears on the foreleg, but they did not bite deep.

‘Clear the alley entrance!’ shouted Floran from behind them. The bears stepped to either side and Broddor dove off to the right and landed on top of Roztov. Just as the first of the gendarmes stepped forward to try and gain entry into the courtyard they were hit by a massive ball of ice that exploded in their front rank, sending shards of ice, bits of armour and bits of man flying in all directions. What remained of their attack broke up and fled. Broddor leapt to his feet and chased after them. The bears joined the charge, but as the gendarmes ran out into the main street the dragons there filled the alley with fire, breathing three long jets of flame that washed over Broddor’s holy armour and singed the backsides of the bears as they turned and bound back towards the courtyard.

When the alley had cleared again and was empty except for the smoking remains of dead gendarmes, Floran sent another ice lance down it that hit a dragon in its hind leg. Badly injured the creature limped off out of sight.

After this first exchange, there was a pause in the battle. As the rain came down harder still, they could see just far enough to be aware of the dark shapes of more dragons arriving. They could hear the noises of boots on cobbles and the clanking of armour to guess that more men were arriving, but neither dragons nor men seemed in any hurry to attack down the alley again.

Finding that he had a few minutes to spare, Roztov lifted up a barricade of earth to block off the entrance and turned back into his normal form.

‘They’ll have to climb over that now, to get at us,’ he then sniffed the air and raised his arms. Earth rose up on their side of the barricade to form a step about two feet in height that they could use to look over the parapet.

‘What now?’ asked Ghene as stepped up and looked over the defences and down the smoke filled alley.

‘I can just make out...’ said Roztov as he wiped the rain from his eyes and blinked. ‘I think I see men dressed in the armour of manhunters. It’s not just gendarmes down there now. We’ll get a proper fight when they decide to come at us.’

‘It’s impossible to summon bears here, or wolves, not in this city, so far from nature.’

Roztov sniffed again. ‘No, but I smell rats. Have you ever summoned rats?’

‘Etruna bless me, no.’

Roztov waved over Meggelaine, who was with Tankle and Arrin.

‘One rat isn’t much danger to anyone, but a hundred maybe. Shall we see how many we can do together?’

Meggelaine nodded. ‘I love rats.’

The druids began to chant together and blue light began to form in the cracks in between the cobbles and the air vents in the walls. Then, in a single surge of fur and tails the courtyard filled with a thousand rats, squeaking and hissing and climbing over each other. The druids pointed over the barricade and the rats surged forwards and over it in a wave of brown fur.

Ghene shuddered and held his cloak tight as they went past, the others standing as still as they could as the tide of rats flowed past them.

Chaos erupted at the other end of the alley. The dragons, panicked, took to the sky as hordes of rats nipped at their wings and legs. Two managed to get airborne and shake off their attackers, but one was overwhelmed and completely covered by rats. It breathed fire and incinerated a hundred or so in one go, but as it tried to close its mouth a hundred more leapt down its throat. It writhed and floundered and died. All the men, gendarmes and manhunters fled down the main street, a few of the ones that were already injured or too slow being overtaken by the plague of rats and killed.

‘That is not a nice way to go,’ remarked Broddor as he watched, his visor up, from the barricade. A gendarme, staggered past the other end of the alley, clutching at his throat, trying to pull the rats out of his armour. He staggered and fell, then was lost under the sea of rats, their fur red now from their killing.

‘Well, it will buy us some time at least,’ said Roztov stepping down from the parapet.

‘Well, stop bloody messing about the lot of you!’ chided Meggelaine. ‘I’ve opened this door, come on.’

She had used her magic to break apart the wood of a boarded up door. She ushered them inside and they stepped into a room that once had been a kitchen, and then from there a smaller room full of dusty furniture. Here there was a door which led to a dark corridor full of filth and cobwebs. Meggelaine chose another door and pushed her way into another apartment. After hunting through all the rooms and not finding a single window or any other door, Roztov was about to lead them out, but Meggelaine called them back into an abandoned bedroom.

 ‘These buildings are like rabbit burrows down at these levels, all built up on top of each other. Let’s just keep going in a straight line and not just wander about in the dark like a pack of ninnies,’ said Meggelaine patting the far wall of the room they were in. ‘Stand back.’

As the others kept watch she channelled what little natural magic she could find in the city towards the wall. Gradually roots began to push up from the floor. Seeing that she needed help, the other two druids joined her and the roots moved towards the wall aggressively, pushing in between the stonework and pulling it apart. The wall crumbled to reveal another room.

‘Come on then,’ said Meggelaine, leading them through two more rooms then to a door that lead out into the street. ‘Oops.’

They had come out in a side street, where the gutters flowed with water and clouds of steam rose up from the ground to be beaten back down again by the rain. Off to their right were a small group of gendarmes and with them was Honni. He was the first to see them bust out of the house and quickly pointed them out, shouting and gesturing towards them.

‘Why the little...’ hissed Meggelaine, witnessing the treachery.

‘Come on, Meg, forget about him,’ said Roztov, pulling her away as the others all jogged past, following Ghene in the other direction. She continued to check over her shoulder, as they ducked down side streets and dank rain-soaked alleys.

‘They are still following us,’ panted Meggelaine as they ran.

‘I see them,’ confirmed Roztov. ‘But they won’t come at us in small numbers while we are moving. They just want to follow us and wait for the opportunity to pin us down.’

He glanced up, which made Meggelaine and Floran, who was nearby, look up too. Through the rain and the swirling mixture of smoke and steam they could see the black shadows of the dragons.

‘Ghene, better keep to the small streets,’ said Floran. ‘Or they’ll come down on us.’

Ghene nodded and motioned for them to keep running. After ten minutes or so they all stopped, Roztov came up to the front to see what was going on. They were in an enclosed and abandoned garden between the houses, with walls on all sides and no doors. The tenement windows on either side were all boarded up. A few straggly weeds grew in the packed earth and mounds of dead vegetation.

‘Etruna curse it, I’m lost,’ admitted Ghene. ‘I thought this was the way to the docks.’

‘The docks are no use anyway,’ said Roztov. ‘We’d never get away. We need somewhere to hide.’

As Ghene was about to speak the courtyard was suddenly filled with black scaly wings as one of the manhunters landed on top of them in an undignified heap. Everyone scrambled out of the way as the dragon attempted to gain its feet, but it was stuck down by Broddor stabbing it through the neck with Gronmorder.

‘They’ll not try that again,’ said the dwarf as he wrenched his sword from the dead dragon. ‘Not for a while anyway.’

‘There are more men coming,’ said Floran who was watching the alley they had just came from, and the only way out of the dead end they were in.

‘Listen you druid idiots, we’ll never escape all together,’ said Broddor. ‘Roztov, conjured up one of your fogs, then you druids dig a wee tunnel through yon wall and sneak away. I’ll hold them off here.’

Roztov and Ghene looked at each other, but could come up with no better plan.

‘Very well, Broddor,’ said Roztov. He then began to chant slowly under his breath and with his fingers splayed out extended his arms from his body. In a place like this, summoning up a druidic mist was one of the easiest things to do.

While Roztov did this, the other two druids summoned roots that tore through one of the tenement walls, a hole just big enough to let everyone through.

When the yard was choked full of fog and they all appeared as nothing but grey silhouettes to each other Broddor unslung the bag he was carrying and handed it to Roztov.

‘You can take your bag of dirt with you, I won’t be needing it,’ said the dwarf.

‘Maybe I can summon something up to help you.’

‘Save that for when you need it. Just go, I’ll catch you up.’

Roztov patted him on the shoulder and went to join the others. He was the last one through the hole and he followed Floran who had been bringing up the rear. Up head Ghene was leading them through the abandoned rooms, creating holes where he needed to, trying to get as far away as possible without going back out onto the street. Luckily for them, the area they were in was so densely packed with buildings that they got half a mile before getting back out into the rain. They stuck to the ground floor at all times and never encountered another soul. No one seemed to live at street level in Stovologard.

Back outside the rain had stopped and there was a rainbow in the sky, between the tall roofs. They walked out into the crowds of Stovologard citizens. With their hoods up and masks on they were indistinguishable from anyone else.

As they walked, Ghene and Roztov leaned their heads together and talked in whispers.

‘I think we are safe enough for the moment,’ said the elf.

‘Let’s hope so,’ replied Roztov. ‘Try and find the docks, surely going downhill should do it. Find your way back to where we had the mushroom beer. I’ll meet you there, I’m going back for Broddor.’

Roztov handed over Broddor’s bag, then took off his own pack and gave it to Arrin.

‘I’ll find it eventually, but will you? You are not attuned for scouting.’

‘No,’ admitted Roztov, ‘but I can find you. I’ll turn into a fox and sniff you out or something. I’ll figure it out, but I’d better go now and get him.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Floran as he unslung his bag and handed it to Tankle. ‘I’ve a feeling you’ll need me.’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Meggelaine urgently, who was too low down to overhear all the whispering.

Roztov leaned down and spoke into her ear. ‘You, Ghene, Arrin and Tankle are going to the docks. Me and Tup are going back to get Broddor.’

Meggelaine was speechless for a moment, wanting to voice caution, but not knowing what the best advice to give was. Eventually she settled on, ‘well just be careful.’

Roztov patted her shoulder, bent back up again, nodded to Ghene and turned, walking back the way they had come. Floran squeezed Tankle’s arm and followed the druid.

Roztov and Floran thread their way back through the crowds, then through the tenements until they eventually reached the yard where they had left Broddor. The fog had cleared. There were bodies everywhere. Roztov sighed, ‘Let’s just follow the trail of the dead, we’ll find him that way.’

They walked down the alleyway into a larger side street. From there they could hear the sound of fighting. Still following the trail of dead bodies they broke into a run, arriving at a junction in the narrow side streets where Broddor was being attacked from all three sides by fifty or more men. There was a fountain in an alcove, about ten feet wide, with murky looking water being spouted out of a stone dolphin’s blowhole. The water in the fountains basin was full of bodies on which Broddor was standing, alive but exhausted and covered in blood. Above the street, six stories up, a black dragon hung from the roof, as if ready to drop onto the dwarf at any moment. Broddor had chosen the ground for his last stand well though, as ten feet iron railings protected him on all three sides of the fountain, the fourth side being the wall of a tenement.

Roztov turned into a bear and Floran leapt onto his back. Roztov the bear charged into the mass of men, rearing up and clawing at their backs. Floran shot a fireball into their ranks at the back, killing some and scattering the others. More men charged in from the other side of the street and a volley of arrows flew at them. Two buried themselves into the thick fur of Roztov’s back and several more bounced off the magical armour that protected Floran.

Floran fired an ice lance at the archers, sending two of them flying ten feet into the air and knocking the others all over the street like skittles.

‘That’s it for me, Roz,’ said the wizard as he leapt from the bear’s back. ‘I’ve only got one of the big ones left for now. I’ve still got the fire flies.’

The men on either end of the street were picking themselves up, helping the injured to get away and retrieving the weapons. As Roztov turned back into a man, the arrows in his fur falling to the ground, Broddor stepped out of the fountain and joined them.

‘I can only stay as a bear for a few minutes,’ said Roztov. ‘This city is no good for most druid magic. I could maybe summon up another swarm of rats, but without Ghene and Meg here I don’t know how many that would be...’ As he talked he looked around, up at the roofs, then back down the street to the alley they had first come out of.

‘We can’t just lead them all back to the others though laddie,’ said Broddor.

‘Maybe another fog...’ muttered Roztov as his attention was drawn to the street ahead of them where a dragon was climbing down off the rooftops. It was knocking bricks out of the walls as it went, using the windows as places to put its claws, shattering glass that crashed down onto the rain soaked cobbles below. It was black, but bigger than the manhunters and had a blue collar around its neck.

Floran raised his hands and fired a cluster of the spells he called ‘fire flies’. These were fast moving balls of magical energy about the size of an apple. Three of them hit a group of gendarmes, knocking them off their feet, but otherwise doing them no great harm due to their armour. Four more of the missiles flew onwards, heading for the dragon, whizzing through the air leaving yellow trails of light. When they reached the dragon though they spluttered and fell, then fizzled out of existence.

‘Oh dear,’ said Floran. ‘Anti-magic. That’s not good.’

The dragon was on the ground now, and walking towards them in an ungainly fashion. It said something in draconic and laughed, a deep-throated noise like a cauldron’s contents boiling over into a fire.

‘This is Neith,’ explained Floran. ‘One of the five Stovologard war-dragons, armed with a token of Spurn-magic. We should fear his mighty fire.’

‘He just said all of that?’ asked Broddor.

‘Words to that effect,’ confirmed the wizard.

‘Smug bugger,’ grunted the dwarf. ‘I’ll enjoy wiping the grin off his scaly face.’

Broddor yelled a war cry and charged, knocking aside gendarmes and human manhunters as they tried to stop him. As he got closer the dragon unleashed a truly huge blast of fire that filled the entire street.

Roztov and Floran both gasped involuntary and turned away from the flames. When they looked up, the street was full of burning corpses and Broddor stood alone in the carnage. He shook his head, as if to clear it, then resumed his charge.

‘His armour will not protect him close up,’ said Floran with concern. ‘Its magic will not work.’

‘I know!’ cried the druid, ‘What can we do?’

They edged closer, moving up the street, hiding in doorways and other cover as they went. Broddor met the dragon head on, swiping at its claws as it reared up. Gronmorder landed a telling blow and chopped off one of the dragons claws at the second knuckle. Neith roared, coughed and blew out a big gout of flame harmlessly into the air above. Broddor was relentless, charging forward, swinging and swinging as the dragon back peddled, piling its long body up on itself in the most ungainly and ridiculous fashion. It fell over on its back and Broddor leapt onto its exposed belly and plunged his sword into the dragon’s chest.

The fight was far from over though, enraged the dragon clawed at the dwarf with its rear legs, sending him falling to the cobbles. Neith rolled over quickly and pounced on Broddor, even as dark draconic blood fell onto the cobbles from his chest wound. The dwarf tried to squirm out of the way, but the dragon had him by the left arm and with a crushing, yanking twist he pulled it clean off.

Released from the dragons grip, Broddor picked up his sword and charged in again, using Gronmorder with his remaining right arm. With a mighty blow he struck through the dragon’s front claw, straight through skin and bone, pinning it to the street below. The dragon tried to pull it out, but Broddor had drawn his dagger and slashed at its other claw to ward it off as he applied all his weight and strength to his sword, pushing it down as hard as he could. Broddor was weakening though, and Neith was growing more desperate. Ignoring the dagger the dragon brought his right claw crashing down on Broddor, knocking him down flat.

The dragon held the dwarf under his claw like a cat pinning down a mouse, trying to get a killing grip as Broddor struggled to get free and continued to stab at it. With one claw effectively nailed to the street and a very angry and struggling dwarf in the other, with blood pumping out of a wound in its chest the dragon was becoming desperate. It tried to get is head down to bite at the dwarf, but was stabbed in the nose with a dagger. It wanted to breathe fire, but also didn’t want to let the dwarf go.

Further back Roztov realised, that however this ended it wasn’t going to go well for Broddor who now only had one arm and must surely be bleeding to death. He was about to see his friend die if he didn’t do something.

‘You’ve one big one left Tup?’

‘Yes, enough for another ice lance, but it will be stopped by the dragon’s talisman, won’t it?’

‘Don’t shoot at the dragon, shoot at that roof,’ said the druid pointing above the dragon to the upper stories of the surrounding tenements. ‘Bring it down on top of the bastard.’

Roztov wiped the sweat from his face then rather doubtfully drew his scimitar from his scabbard and ran forward. As he got closer, Floran’s final ice lance swept overhead and a moment later a great pile of tiles, bricks and masonry fell in a cloud of dust into the street, much of it landing on the dragon’s back.

Roztov was hit by a shower of tiles and knocked to the cobbles. His old dented helmet took most of it, but the sharp corner of a broken tile cut a deep gouge through his cheek that filled his mouth with blood. As he picked himself up he put his hand to his face. Painful and bloody as the injury was he didn’t use any of his magic to heal it, saving it for Broddor.

Staggering he edge forward into the ruins. A gendarme, half crazed from dragon fire burns charged at him and Roztov raised his sword. His attacker was then hit by three fire flies that sent him flying backward into the rubble. Roztov made his way as fast as he could through the tangled masonry. Three more men rushed at him, but another group of fire flies struck them down. As he reached where the fighting had been taking place the dragon was attempting to rise, but it was pinned down by two huge beams and a mountain of bricks. It let out a weak roar and tried to rise, but managed no more than a couple of inches before collapsing back onto the ground. I then seemed to notice that it had a dwarf under its claw for the first time. It picked up Broddor’s limp body and tossed it aside dismissively. It tried shift its body from under the beams, but roared out in pain when its right claw pulled at the sword that still pinned it to the ground. Now, not only the sword, but a five-foot tall pile of rubble pinned down its right foreleg.

Roztov rushed over to help his friend, but leapt back when a jet of flame washed over the cobbles and struck Broddor’s body. The dragon then groaned and lay its head and neck down on the ground.

There was smoke, ash and dust everywhere. Roztov went towards Broddor again, but cried out in dismay as he finally fought his way through the smoke where the body rested. His friend was dead, little more than flame-bleached bones in a pile of blackened armour.

‘Oh Etruna!’ he said with a sob. A figure approached through the smoke and dust and he raised his sword, but it was Floran, holding the sleeve of his robe to his face.

‘Roztov,’ he coughed. ‘You’d better get out of that thing’s line of fire.’

They skirted around the rubble, clambering over beams and piles of bricks.

‘He’s dead Tup,’ said Roztov with a sob.

‘We should leave.’

‘Not without his body. His temple will want it. His father. And the armour.’

‘Very well, but we need to deal with that dragon first.’

The rubble shifted a little as the dragon tried to pull itself free again, but too much of its body was trapped, indeed, as the smoke cleared a little they could see that both its wings, all of its body and hindquarters, were underneath the wreckage of a tenement roof and much of the top two storeys. Only its head and part of its neck and its left claw were free.

‘Bone’s blood Tup, you took down a whole building. I hope no one was inside it.’

‘I hope not, perhaps the fighting drove them away.’

The clambered up onto the rubble that lay across the dragon’s back. Then edged towards where its head was. ‘Can you see the talisman?’ whispered Roztov.

Floran looked around. ‘It’s too deeply buried. I can see the hilt of Broddor’s sword though.’

The wizard pointed and Roztov saw that Floran was correct, sticking out of the rubble was the golden pommel of Gronmorder, glinting in the weak smoke and dust filled light.

‘Circle back round, Tup, and distract it for a moment.’

‘Distract it?’ said Floran incredulously.

‘You speak draconian. Strike up a conversation.’

The wizard whistled, then clambered around the back of the dragon. There were manhunters further down the street, but they were keeping their distance in fear. Floran then ducked down a side street and reappeared further back from another alley. He waved to get the dragon’s attention.

‘Ahem, Coo-ee! Mr Dragon!’ called out the wizard in draconic. ‘Mr Neith!’

The dragon moved its head around to look over at the man that was hailing him.

‘What do you want?’

‘That’s an interesting talisman you have there.’

‘A Spurn-magic icon, manufactured by our greatest smiths to defend against the dragon’s of the Spire. Who are you that can call forth fire and ice in the manner of a spire dragon?’

‘I am Floran B’iyano, of the Vizards of Heshmatiye.'

‘Meeting you is not a pleasure. Come closer, so that we may converse further.’

'I think I'll stay where I am.'

'I doubt I am any danger to you... wait who is up there?'

The dragon tried to get is head up and around to see what was going on, but it was too pinned down by the beams across its back. It groaned with relief as it felt the sword pinning its right claw being pulled out of its flesh. As it tried to pull its foreleg out from under the rubble it felt a foot on its neck. It froze.

‘Who dares?’ it asked, but anything else it was going to say was cut off as Roztov drove Gronmorder through the back of its head.

Floran cautiously stepped back into the street as the dragon breathed its last. Roztov stepped down from the dragon’s head. ‘The sword may lose its magic when near that icon, but it was still forged by dwarves. Sharp enough to pierce dragon hide.’

The dragon was stone dead now, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, three foot long and forked. Roztov drew his dagger and cut it out of the dragon’s mouth.

‘When we tell this tale to his brothers in the Holy Order of Aerekrig, it was Broddor that slew this dragon. A dragon that was protected from all magic, and he did it with only one arm.’

‘Of course.’

They then went to gather up the remains of their fallen friend.

(G366 25/08/2018 via Roll20 - AP(GM), JF) RL12

(G366 25/08/2018 via Roll20 - AP(GM), JF) RL12

[Rollo note: At much the same time as Fenrir was alternating between saving the city of Westgate from airborne dangers and murdering people I was further to the north-east getting all muddled up in my own vampire business!]

To recap, myself and Ireena had flown south to find the King of Damara to tell him that one of his Baron's was a bit of a naughty vampire. The King, being a good chap, wanted to sort that out, so he returned with us to Barovia with his army.

Here we met again my cousin Sylvia, our friends Ashlyn the Paladin, Sir Urik the Knight and Tallmer the scholar who had got us into all this business in the first place. Our former pals Yli and Tie-Pie were missing, probably kidnapped by Baron Strad.

DAY 353 (20th Alturaik)(February) cont ...

King Gareth set up his base of operations in Barovia. This makes everyone there a lot happier.

DAY 354 (21st Alturaik)(February)

Myself and all my friends are now guests of Ireena in her large house in the south side of town. Along with Sylvia I mostly helped heal the sick and injured today.

DAY 355 (22nd Alturaik)(February)

Barovia in a lot better shape today.

The King has decided to march on Strad's castle. It's a long trek through the mountains on foot so it will take a few days. Me, Sylvia and the others will accompany them.

DAY 356 (23rd Alturaik)(February)

The army made good progress today. We camped not far from where we killed those dire bears.

DAY 357 (24th Alturaik)(February)

Another day marching with the army. We are not going near the gypsy camp, but taking the 'back road' to the castle, the only way to get to it if you can't fly.

DAY 358 (25th Alturaik)(February)

We are very high up in the mountains now. The King's army seem subdued in the vastness of this rugged range of snow-capped peaks. We are not far now though.

It has been a good few days for me to gather samples and seeds from the local plants. Everything that grows here is of great interest to me, being either unique to the region or variations on flora I have seen elsewhere. The small purple flowers that grow up in the mountains I have seen nowhere else in the world and I am amazed that they flower this early in the year. The locals call it edel and it apparently has medicinal properties.

DAY 359 (26th Alturaik)(February)

We arrived at the castle a little after lunch. The King has camped the bulk of his army in the forest behind the castle while he sends in scouts and probing attacks on the castle's defences.

A little later on he asked me and Sylvia to investigate a ruined door that had been spotted in the foundations of the castle. I would have thought we would have been better utilised healing wounded soldiers or something, but perhaps he had enough healers already. In any event we went to take a look. Naturally Fluffy and Rolanda were with us.

The rotten old door was easily pushed aside and lead to a long corridor, in ancient dressed stone. The corridor lead to a series of rooms and other narrow corridors that were all full of those nasty tough zombies we had already seen plenty off in and around Barovia. Sylvia turned the first two rooms full of them and we even found a bit of treasure in a chest in the second.

The third room we came to we viewed with suspicion as there was a lot of noise coming from behind the door. I summoned a wood wose and got it to open the door while we stood at the other end of the corridor.
The door burst open and dozens of zombies poured out. Sylvia used her last 'turn' but it did little to hold back the flood. I summoned some dire wolves, then had to use my stone shape spell to tunnel an escape route out of the corridor as they all pummelled into me.
It got even more chaotic after that. Despite all Sylvia's magic and the wolves that I threw at them, they just kept on coming, more than we could count. Retreating down the corridors we had just come along I tried to think of the best way to resolve this situation - considering that I had no more Stone Shape spells left!

(G365 18/08/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA42

(G365 18/08/2018 via Roll20 - AP, JF(GM)) WA42


DAY 379 (17th Ches)(March)

Fenrir flew again with the Day Air Watch. There was light rain so he, Zeni and Relleme mainly stuck to the towers on the wall.

Two werebats attempted to cross out of the city, but Fenrir took them down with some long range eldritch blasts. He didn't bother to check the bodies when they fell down into the streets below.

In the evening he went around the city gathering information about the names on the list he had been given.

Tonight he found out:

Godran Nike - an art collector, known to be a good sort. Owned a small shop.

Erinod Bale - a baker. Known to be a contemptible swine and rumoured to be a member of a death cult.
       
Nora Crutty - a candlestick maker. She was in her 40's, widowed with two children.

DAY 380 (18th Ches)(March)

Lanar Fodin - a private investigator. She used to be a member of the watch. Known to have    connections to the Night Masks.

At three in the morning Fenrir returned home and had a couple of hours sleep before going back to work.

His day in the Air Watch was uneventful and after work he found out what he could about the last name on his list:

Krum the Barbarian - who was an entertainer of sorts, earning his living at the small permanent fare at the docks as a strong man and occasional pugilist.


Fenrir had planned for an early night, but he was delayed a little by a problem with the staff. Jasper, his housekeeper, told him that the cook thought that Gelly had stolen some valuable crockery from the kitchen.

He went and talked to Gelly, but she denied everything, saying she was just  lying low for a while and wanted no trouble.
'Cook has got it in for me!' cried Gelly. 'She's a total cow! I've got much more important matters to worry about, as well you know!'
'Just smooth it over with her will you?' asked Fenrir.
'Oh. I'll smooth her over all right,' growled Gelly cracking her knuckles.

Fenrir went to bed, wondering if all this time in the watch was turning him into some kind of lawman.

DAY 381 (19th Ches)(March)

Fenrir had another uneventful day at work today in the Air Watch with Zeni and Relleme.

In the evening he had a vague idea of getting Erinod Bale, the baker,  killed in some kind of mob attack. He asked around a bit and discovered that in the city, a year or so ago, there was a big scare about necromancy cults and that followers of Kelemvor, the god of death, were persecuted and thrown out of the city.

These days, being a follower of Kelemvor in Westgate could get you killed. Veddic had a vague idea that the god's symbol was a set of scales.

DAY 382 (20th Ches)(March)

Fenrir had another uneventful day at work today in the Air Watch with Zeni and Relleme.

In the evening Fenrir bought some clerical vestments and went down to the docks where there was a street that was used by speakers or holy men that wanted to talk to the masses.

He attempted to rile up the crowds against Kelemvor, and while he was very good at telling a story and came across well to those that were listening, he lacked the skills in performance to really project over the throngs of people and over the voices of all the other  speakers. In the end he only really won over a dozen people.

Fenrir told them to come back the next day, and went and purchased a big barrel of beer and some bottles of spirits. He then flew over to the island to get some tips from Random, who was a bard, on how to win over crowds.
Random said, 'Well that would take a lot of practice, it's not something that comes quickly to most folks. Besides I see a flaw in this plan, the place you are speaking in at the docks and this baker's shop are in different wards. You'd have to cross a watch post along Silverpiece Way. They'd stop an angry mob, or at least try to.'

They discussed finding a mad man to carry out the murder, but again Random's advice shot down that plan.
'Fenrir, old pal, old fruit, old bean, why involve a random and volatile accomplice? You are fully equipped to carry out this murder yourself!'

Fenrir had to admit he agreed. Back at his house he stashed the booze in his cellar. The plan had been to get his rabble drunk, but he wouldn't need it now.

Before retiring for the night he talked to Gelly who told him that everything was fine with cook now. She said this with a wicked glint in her eye though so Fenrir went to talk to cook.
'Oh, she's a lovely girl really...' said cook with a tremor in her voice, '...but when is she leaving?'

DAY 383 (21st Ches)(March)

Fenrir had another uneventful day at work today in the Air Watch with Zeni and Relleme.

Tonight Fenrir decided it was time to get the ghost out of his house and in order to facilitate that, Erinod Bale the baker had to die.

He went to the baker's shop, flying and invisible and as a customer left the place he snuck in through the front door. Bale was there with two men that he seemed to be friendly with. They were chatting about local gossip as Bale served the occasional customer.

One of the customer's came in with a cat and it nearly sniffed Fenrir out, but he managed to stay hidden until the shop was closed up around ten at night.

A short time after that three more men arrived, wearing black hooded cloaks and Bale locked up the shop.


DAY 384 (22nd Ches)(March)

That night down in the cellar, Bale, his two associates (a younger man and a much older man) along with a Paladin of Kelemvor and a man and a woman of an aristocratic bearing began a ritual to honour Kelemvor the god of death.

Fenrir was content to watch at first, as he lurked at the back of the small shrine, but then the paladin turned around and said, 'I can sense you. Who are you?'

Fenrir then decided to end it there, rather than parley and bathed them all in a cone of eldritch energy. Everyone except the Paladin died in screaming agony as the demonic fire consumed them. The Paladin then tried to cast a spell to protect himself, but Fenrir got him with the next blast.
He then chopped up the corpses and burnt them, then after he had cleaned himself up and as he left, set fire to the shop for good measure!

Now, dear reader, you may or may not know much about Kelemvor, and Fenrir knew nothing at all it is safe to say. Despite what the people of Westgate generally thought, his followers were not a cult of evil necromancers, but were in fact quite the contrary. They wanted the dead to stay dead and hunted
out necromancers and the undead to lay them to rest.
So, Fenrir, thinking he was wiping out a den of evil actually (as best as I can discern) killed an admittedly horrible baker, his friends, two nobles and a goodly paladin! This act of wanton murder would not sit easily on his soul, which was probably exactly what the demons wanted.

DAY 385 (23rd Ches)(March)

That fire burned all night and much of the next day, taking the houses on either side with it. No one else was killed though.

After work that day Fenrir went to talk to Trepplemar and they discussed his notions of recruiting more members to the Day Air Watch. She told him to go ahead.

That night, when he was in bed the ghost of Risolde appeared to him to commend him on a job well done and bid him farewell. As she left she pointed to a little figure of a quasit on his dresser that was his reward.
He could tell it was magical in some way.