(RoT-7) 'Elf and slay-fty

"Oh, shut up!"

In the Misty Forest, no-one can hear you scream. Allegedly. And that's where our heroes are - deep in the forest, standing on the edge of a lake, with a waterfall leading into it, knowing that a dragon's lair lies behind the waterfall. What happens next?

Starring, in order they sit around the table:
Sigurd, (played by Iain) a travelling swordsman, .
Venmir, (played by Brett) an elven clergyman, . 
Nyvan, (played by Jason) a elven knight, .
Rodin Halfbeard, (played by Lorne) the dwarven axeman, .
Nandrin the Naughty, (played by Hilton), the elven mage, (absent this evening).

and The DM, (played by Alex), who loves to comment in blue. And writes this blog. He's also a bit of a git and likes to make life difficult for his players.

A man down, but knowing next week we'll be back at full strength, the party have done what they always do - prepare to fight a dragon without actually doing any preparation at all. 

The heroes stood by the water, staring at the waterfall.

"Perhaps a rest?" asked Venmir.

The others agreed and they walked back a few hundred yards into the forest to make a camp for the night. As they rested, the elves took watch, as usual. During Nyvan's watch, he was quietly challenged by a voice close to his back. It threatened him with impalement if he moved, but it spoke in elven - and they soon revealed themselves as elven rangers, scouting the area for cultists. 

They were aware of the dragon, but refused Nyvan's request that they help fight the beast. 

"We're hear to scout, not fight a dragon!" was the reply.  The rangers quietly left without waking any of the others. When Nyvan told them about their visitors, they mostly laughed at his inability to notice people in the woods. He shrugged it off.

However, as they prepared, he heard the sound of beating wings approaching. He gestured and whispered, "Hit the deck!"

Rodin, Sigurd and Venmir dropped to the floor, but Nyvan ran and jumped into a nearby bush, making a massive amount of noise. Fortunately, the dragon didn't hear and they soon headed for the waterfall.

They found their way behind the waterfall and stood in a cave. The cave lead further into the darkness, and the walls were slippery with damp. A little further in, they found a ramp heading down - it was slippery and wet, but there was no visible means of descending. They discussed how they would proceed from here. As they stood there, they heard a small change in the sound of the water descending behind them. Rodin called for silence with a sharp shush.

"What are you on about?" asked Sigurd.

Rodin looked horrified.

A soft, deep, melodious voice came through from the tunnel behind them. 

"Well hello in there. I can sense you, little dwarf. You're just in time.....for lunch!" a loud sniffing noise came from the hallways behind them.

With a whimper, Rodin leapt onto the ramp and slid down, quickly picking up pace before he slammed into the floor. One by one, the others followed, hitting the floor on either side.

The party clambered to their feet and dashed along the hallway, hoping it was too narrow to let a dragon pass. The consensus was unclear, so they dashed down the hallway and found themselves in a large chamber - with a shelf high up one wall to the south, a passageway north and a deep clear pool of water surrounding a small isle in the middle. 

They considered their position for a while, before heading north. They walked into a room with half a dozen cultists and battle was quickly joined. Arrows flew and the heroes charged the cultists. The party were far stronger, and they quickly cut down the majority of their foes, except for one - better equipped, who held a small coloured gem in a pendant which fired poisonous gas in a condensed ball which thudded into Venmir's chest. The cleric stumbled backwards and his companions leapt forward to finish the cultist leader off. 

Before they could rest, another band ran into the room and the situation happened again - only this time the leader flung a ball of fire from his pendant, once more hitting Venmir. The cleric was outraged, but could do little beyond sending arrows across the room. Eventually this group were also defeated. 

The party continued their search and ignored the bodies piled up on the floor. They also passed by a store room. They stumbled upon a fancy, well-appointed bedroom and they stared in amazement at its presence. The floor was covered in expensive carpets and pieces of art were scattered around the room, and the walls were covered in expensive tapestries. On the far side was a fancy bedroom, with a chest at the base of it.

Nyvan strode across the room, joking about how the chest was bound to explode to coat him in acid, but it was like fate beat him to the punch, and he triggered a glyph of protection hidden on the floor, showering him in acid. He howled in anger. 

The chest itself had a series of love letters, addressed to Neronvain, a name which Nyvan and Venmir recognised as the name of King Melandrach's exiled and now-deceased son. He had been removed from the Misty Forest for treachery and soon thereafter he had been slain in battle against the King's guardsmen. The letters were from a female, and talked of how his banishment was unfair and that she still loved him. The party spent some time discussing how someone would have these letters, but before they could decide on what was going on, they heard a gentle cough at the doorway.

They spun around to see an elderly elf, poorly-dressed and obviously mistreated, standing, shoulder sagging, in the doorway.

"Milords, greetings. Welcome. Thank you for coming, milords. My lord would know your names, milords."

"What is YOUR name?" demanded Venmir.

"Irrelevant, milords."

"Well, Irrelevant, what does your master want?" asked Sigurd.

"Milords, he only wishes to know your names, milords."

The party introduced themselves.

"Thank you, milords." said the elderly elf as he walked from the room. The party followed, eager to see the lord of the caves.

The elf walked slowly, but they soon emerged into the large room with the pool. On the ledge stood a dozen elves, armed. On the isle in the middle of the pool stood a massive green dragon, a cowled man stood in front of it. The dragon was picking at its teeth with a massive bone. The old elf shuffled off to one side.

"Greetings," came a silky voice form under the cowl, "Be aware that you are not welcome in my home. My friend and I do not want you here."

Sigurd stepped up and spoke. Despite his wily attempts to turn dragon against rider, the rider laughed and then patted the dragon on the neck.

The dragon, looking intently at the party, raised a quizzical eye-ridge.

"Why can I only smell you, dwarf? What is it that's protecting the rest of you? Hmmmmmm?"

Rodin stepped back involuntarily. 

"Ummm...no, there's no reason why . Maybe I just....oh bollocks!" said Rodin, as his mind wandered back to the druid in the woods, and the necklaces she had weaved for them.

"I'm sorry fellas!" he whispered, realising he had been the one to bring the dragon back in the first place.

The rider's silky smooth voice interrupted his apology.

"Come, my friend, show these intruders how we welcome those who are not invited..."

The dragon looked up, and the party heard a sharp intake of breath. 

They ran.

They turned the corner into the room with a dozen dead cultists lying on the floor. A cloud of poisonous gas filled the corridor behind them. They ran to the far side, and waited.

Within a minute, they heard the sound of running feet. They prepared themselves and then a dozen elves ran, stumbled and strode into the room. They charged the heroes. Among them was a warrior, armoured, several well-dressed nobles and many commoners but at the back stood a mage. 

The battle was long and hard-fought. The mage flung spells and the others fought to the death, and several of the heroes had suffered serious wounds when the elven knight finally fell to his knees. As the spell of the dragon was lifted, he bared his soul to Nyvan, offering his blessing, but before he could finish, he was beheaded by Rodin.

"Oh, shut up!" he mumbled.

Sigurd ran off to check the room with the dragon - it still held a the dragon and its rider. He hurried back to the others. They decided to retreat to the bedroom, and plan from there.

After they briefly rested, they prepared to go back out and fight the dragon. Just as they were standing, Nyvan heard a noise from behind a wall. They pulled down the tapestry and after a brief search, they found a secret door. they burst into the next room. It held a small number of religious items, including a shrine to the elven god of loners (among other things).

The main point, however, was the figure in a cowl stood by a door at the far side.

The party rushed him and he turned and ran, gesturing at them as he went.

Nyvan got to the door first, just as a cloud of gas flew out from the rider's hand. He stumbled and fell, clutching at his throat, Sigurd and Rodin ran past him, covering their noses. Venmir stopped to help his friend along the passageway.

Sigurd and Rodin burst into a huge chamber. They watched as the rider leapt up 15 foot into the air and slid around the dragon's throat to settle at the base of its neck. He flung back his hood. Underneath was a remarkably handsome elf.

"Well, interlopers, I would prefer not to risk my life, or that of my friend, in pointless battle. Give my regards to my traitor of a father!"

He patted the dragon on the side of his neck, and the two of them were bathed in poisonous gas. The pair of them were seriously injured, but survived. The others rushed in and watched as the dragon lifted itself from the floor with powerful blasts of its massive wings, and disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

Sigurd cursed. Rodin picked a small ball of concentrated poison breath from his ear. Venmir clung to Nyvan, and Nyvan clung to Venmir.

Whatever could happen next?