02 May 2021
⏪ Previous - Session 12
The party
· Kisandra Starlight –Half-Elf Sorceress (Heather)
· Barendil Dawnwood – Elf Ranger (Robert)
· Guillerme don d’Lyonne – Human Paladin (Martin)
· Friar Buck Norris – Human Cleric (Silas)
· Nobby Nobbs – Human (probably) Rogue (Tom)
Preparation, Preparation, Preparation
The party had agreed the previous evening that the dragon had
to be dealt with. After a fine breakfast, Barendil walked back into Brida’s
cottage and gathered the party around him. He paced back and forth as he
outlined what he had been thinking about.
“After much pondering and meditation on how my clan, the
Dragon Clan, dealt with bothersome wyrms I have devised the following approach
for how we can kill Stormfang. This plan requires three elements to work. Firstly,
a lightning conductor; secondly, split-second timing on my behalf; and, thirdly,
a collective violent onslaught from our party of adventurers and our friendly
druid with any of her woodland friends.
“Let me first deal with the lightning conductor. This is
simply a length of metal buried or pummelled into the ground, with salted water
poured onto it so it drains into the surrounding ground. I believe we shall find
suitable iron in the ruined blacksmith’s workshop which, although in poor
repair, certainly had scraps of unworked metal lying about. Friar Buck’s hammer
should do the job of driving the iron rod into the ground admirably. If our druid
host has a supply of cooking salt it well help greatly to fully saturate the
ground and attract the lightning more readily.
“The second point, regarding my split-second timing, is
simple. I will stand in front of the conductor and entice the dragon to attack
me with his lightning breath. Blue dragons, like many dragons when making a
breath attack, inflate their chests and pull their heads back like a snake
preparing to strike, before lunging their head forward to expel their elemental
fury; in this case, lightning. As soon as I see the signs, I will make myself
ready to leap clear and, if all is well and good, the lightning should strike
the metal conductor and dissipate into the ground, leaving me unscathed.
“Should these first two steps prove successful, then the dragon
will be standing on the ground and the time for the third step of the plan will
be at hand. A concerted assault from everyone, attacking from hidden vantage points
within the tree line bordering the path, should hopefully prove sufficient to subdue
the beast.
“What do you think?” finished Barendil, looking around the
room at Brida and his companions. They sat in stunned silence at the audacity
of the plan.
“Well, I don’t have anything better…” began Friar Buck.
“Certainly the best plan we’ve heard,” agreed Guillerme.
As they sat pondering, the question arose of what to do
should the initial assault prove insufficient to kill the beast outright. What
should they do if the dragon was to take flight again? They hit upon a solution
– by using large metal hooks, they might be able to tether the dragon to the
surrounding trees. Friar Buck had smith’s tools and so could fashion any
lengths of iron in the ruined smithy into hooks for them each to use. Most of
the party carried lengths of rope that could be used to attach the hooks to
trees, while Nobby suggested that if they didn’t quite have enough rope they
could always use some of the giant spider silk that they had encountered as a
suitable replacement as it was of a similar strength. Nobby then asked Brida if
she would be able to point out the strongest trees to attach their ropes to,
which she affirmed that she could.
Kisandra asked Barendil just how he intended to entice the
dragon to attack him on the ground. He said that he had a speech in mind that
would infuriate the dragon as much as possible, but did say that there was one
additional component required that might be best acquired by Nobby… the rogue
was keen to help Mr. Barendil, pleased to be included in his plans! Barendil
said that he wanted the heads of the dragon cultists, as they might help to
manipulate the dragon. He was fairly sure that Nobby was the only member of the
party likely to be willing to go back to gather those heads. He was right.
So a plan was formed. Barendil, Nobby and Buck would head to
the forge, looking for lengths of iron that Buck could fashion into hooks.
Nobby would then go on to the cultist’s lair to gather the heads, before heading
to the spider webs to gather silk. They would all prepare the hooks with their
rope or spider silk tethers, taking one apiece – even Droop, Kisandra and Brida
would attempt to hook the dragon to give the best chance possible to secure it
to the ground. Nobby remembered the spider venom that he had harvested from
their earlier encounter and figured that lacing the hooks with the poison would
be a good way to further weaken the dragon. Finally, he would use his disguise
kit to try and make the adventurers less conspicuous when hiding among the
trees while Barendil attempted to lure the dragon out.
With that, they moved out. The three that were heading for
the forge remained on their guard, not knowing what evils may still inhabit the
ruins and whether they had been abroad during the night. As they entered the
blacksmith’s, there was a scratching noise from near the old forge – Nobby and
Buck tensed, but Barendil’s sharp eyes could see it was just a rat crawling
through the wreckage, nothing to fear.
Friar Buck fired up the old forge, using whatever wooden
detritus he could find to stoke the fire while Barendil worked the bellows.
They were lucky enough to find sufficient lengths of iron to construct a hook
for each member of their band, plus a sturdy rod to act as Barendil’s
conductor. After a hot and sweaty morning of hard work, Buck and Barendil
returned to Brida’s house with the hooks to find Nobby already back there with
the heads and sufficient rope and spider silk tethers to construct their dragon
restraints.
Once they were all prepared, they left Brida’s house and
cautiously advanced up the winding path towards the tower, keeping their eyes
on the sky in case the dragon had already left its lair. Nothing stirred and
the air was still as the party took up their positions in the trees either side
of the lane, tying their ropes to the trees indicated by Brida. They then all
crouched down in the vegetation, apart from Barendil and Buck who stood in the
centre of the path and prepared to hammer the conductor into place. This was it;
the moment had arrived.
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| The adventurers advance cautiously up the tree-lined lane towards the lair of the dragon |
Taunting a Dragon
Friar Buck hammered the length of iron into the ground while Barendil stood, scanning the skies for movement. The rhythmic clanging noise reverberated in the still air between the trees that lined the road up to the tower, while the rest of the party hunkered down in the vegetation. The anticipation was palpable.
With his task complete, Buck retreated to the relative
safety of the treeline. As Barendil poured the salted water into the earth
around his conductor, the elf cut a lonely figure in the centre of the wide lane,
looking particularly vulnerable as he had left his bow and sword with Brida for
safekeeping. Still, he stood with confidence and turned to face the tower,
unflinching as he prepared to deliver the speech that he hoped would draw the
dragon out and into the ambush they had set for it.
“Stormfang! Stormfang! Listen you well, for I am Barendil,
last of the Dragon Clan,” bellowed the elf ranger. “I and my kin have killed
your evil kind wherever we found you. Come out foul worm and meet your end for
I am Barendil Dragon Slayer.”
With his words still echoing in the still afternoon air,
Barendil looked expectantly at the tower, but no dragon was forthcoming. Undeterred,
he continued his taunting.
“Come out skulking lizard, for you have fulfilled your
purpose here in Thundertree and it is time that you were gone. Yes, I say PURPOSE
worm, for you have been serving our purpose. You thought we paid you gold out
of fear, but think again foolish lizard, we paid you gold to keep you tucked up
in your lair and out of OUR way.”
Throwing the severed cultist heads down in front of him,
Barendil continued, “You stayed tucked up and out of our way whilst we killed
these Tiamat-worshipping scum that where here in Thundertree to seek your help.
Now it is your turn! Come out Stormfang and meet your destiny, come out and
face an elf of the Dragon Clan, for I am unarmed – see, no bow, no sword, just
my wit. And believe you me my wit is sharp enough to pierce your wormy hide, oh
Stormfang the skulker.”
Barendil had thrown his arms wide to show he was unarmed and
stood proud and upright in front of the metal pole, waiting for the dragon to
emerge.
“Come out, foul worm, less you wish to be branded a coward.”
Still, nothing.
“Come out, baby lizard, less you wish to be remembered as
Stormfang the shy!”
Frustrated, Barendil stepped forwards and shouted once more
as his voice cracked with the effort.
“Come out and face
Barendil, nemesis of dragon kind!”
Breathing heavily, Barendil dropped his arms to his side.
His comrades in the trees looked to one another, wondering if this plan was
really going to work, before suddenly there was an almighty crashing noise and
Stormfang burst from the top of the tower, extending his wings out wide with a
snapping noise before landing surprisingly delicately on the broken parapet.
The dragon snaked its head downwards to examine the elf stood defiantly before
its lair.
“WHAT IS THAT NOISE?!”
demanded the dragon, its wings slowly moving back and forth as its head bobbed hypnotically side to side.
“OH, IT'S YOU, LITTLE ELF,”
chuckled the great blue beast. “AND WHAT BRAVE WORDS TO COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH. AM I SUPPOSED TO BE... INTIMIDATED?”
With a deep, booming laugh, the dragon leapt down from the
tower and landed in front of Barendil in a cloud of dust. The ranger stood his
ground, unflinching, while the dragon’s entire focus remained on him – it seemed
to either have not noticed the presence of Barendil’s companions in the trees, or
simply did not cared about them.
“YOU WILL MAKE A FINE MEAL,” said the dragon as it
advanced towards Barendil, “MUCH BETTER THAN THOSE FOUL SPIDERS...”
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| Barendil bravely squares off against the advancing dragon |
I Love it When a Plan Comes Together
The party looked on from the trees as the dragon inhaled deeply and drew its head back, just as Barendil had predicted it would. The elf tensed his muscles, ready to move. As the dragon’s head lunged forward, a line of crackling blue lightning coruscated from its open maw, heading straight for him. At the last second, uncoiling like a spring, Barendil dived to his right, out of the way of the arcing energy that struck the iron pole behind him with a thunderclap. His timing wasn’t as perfect as he would have liked, as one tongue of blue electricity managed to singe his leg, but this was only a minor injury and vastly preferable to receiving the full force of the dragon’s breath.
As soon as Barendil stopped rolling, his companions leapt
into action. Buck had finished his ritual, Blessing Kisandra, Nobby and
Guillerme, and he rose to his feet to lead the charge at the dragon.
“For Kord!” yelled the cleric as he brandished his tethered
hook, running at the beast and thrusting the hook into its left wing. Stormfang
roared in pain as the hook stuck fast and the spider venom coating the metal
coursed into the dragon, despite its resilient constitution.
At this point, Buck watched as Kisandra came running from
her hiding spot, delicately jumping over the hedge. The dragon attempted to
turn towards her, but found its wing held fast by the rope attached to Buck’s
hook that remained embedded in its wing. As it turned to look in anger at the
restriction, it was suddenly surprised by a second hook impaling its right wing
as Kisandra swung it down overhead with all her strength. Almost immediately,
Guillerme charged in from the dragon’s rear (raising questions of his chivalry
in allowing Kisandra to face the beast’s fearful maw), and he thrust his own
hook into the dragon’s right wing. The creature was now tethered to three
separate trees, restricting its movement to some degree.
Reaching the trees where Brida had been hiding, Barendil
retrieved his armaments and in one swift motion knocked an arrow, sending it
flying towards the dragon’s head. He couldn’t find a soft enough spot for his
arrow to pierce the hide, however, and it deflected harmlessly from the
dragon’s tough scales. Grumbling to himself, the ranger crouched down among the
vegetation and reached for a second arrow.
Nobby and Droop both charged in towards the dragon,
displaying remarkable and uncharacteristic bravery, yet the occasion was perhaps
a little intimidating for them both and they failed to pierce the dragon’s hide
with their hooks. Brida also ran forward, willing to attempt to enact Barendil’s
plan for the good of nature’s balance, though she was put off by the way Buck
leered sideways at her and failed to attach her hook to the dragon’s hide.
 |
| Barendil dodged the worst of Stormfang's lightning breath while his companions surrounded the dragon in an attempt to impale it with tethered hooks |
Stormfang was furious. Three hooks had pierced his wings and
now tethered him to trees on either side of the leafy lane, restricting his
ability to fly, and these pitiful humanoids were crowded round him, trying to
jab him with more of their crude iron hooks. Worse than that, he had actually
felt pain from the attacks of these pathetic creatures. He was too distracted
to be able to draw on his lightning breath again and so lashed out in anger
with his formidable teeth and claws at the three insects who had pricked him
with their hooks.
The dragon’s jaws snapped shut on Kisandra’s leg, viciously biting
the sorceress as she screamed in pain. One of Stormfang’s claws lashed out at
Buck, but was deflected by his shield, but a kick from his rear leg caught Guillerme
straight in the chest, winding the paladin. As Kisandra limped and scrambled
away, out of range of the dragon’s talons, the party began to wonder if it was
really so sensible to get this close to such a dangerous foe.
Pushing away his doubts with his strength of faith, Buck
drew his newly discovered dwarven axe, Hew, from his belt and prepared to use
it to slash at the dragon. Despite the magical enchantments on the axe, the
cleric was unable to land a good hit on the dragon.
Guillerme overcame his revulsion at Nobby to glance over and
provide the rogue with a Shield of Faith before going on to retaliate against
the dragon’s kick. He decided to forget Barendil’s plan and instead use his glaive
to give the best chance of severing one of its claws, so he dropped the
tethered hook he was carrying and drew the polearm. As he swung it in a wide
arc, the dragon easily moved its claw out of the way and Guillerme struck the
earth instead. Shaking his head, the paladin struggled to free the head of the weapon
from where it was now buried.
Once again, an arrow from Barendil struck the dragon’s head
and once again was deflected by the horny scales, much to the elf’s annoyance.
However, at that moment, a piercing shriek could be heard from high in the sky,
and a griffon shot down from the heavens like a comet, landing with a snarl in
front of the blue dragon. This was clearly the assistance that Brida had called
upon. The figure of the griffon stood boldly before the drake, roaring in
defiance as the adventurers looked on in amazement at this regal beast. Stormfang
fended off the griffon’s attacks from both its beak and claws, and then dodged
Nobby’s second attempt to attach his hook. The rogue decided to slink away
whilst the dragon was distracted by the griffon, giving himself some distance
from the sharp talons and thrashing tail of the reptilian beast.
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| A noble griffin responds to Brida's call for aid in the battle against Stormfang |
It was then that everyone was surprised by a loud,
high-pitched howl, which turned out to be Droop’s warcry. The little goblin
steeled himself, leaping into the air with the hook held in front of himself
with both hands, somehow landing with the tip pointed towards the dragon and
stabbing it into the base joint of the dragon’s right wing, tearing a gash into
the beasts armpit. Stormfang roared in response at the pain, slapping the
little goblin to the ground and looking at the base of its wing that was
bleeding profusely. Droop looked immensely pleased with himself, having succeeded
in his allotted task in spectacular fashion.
Following up on this success, Brida was also able to attach
her hook to the dragon, meaning that the beast was now tethered by five ropes.
Stormfang decided that enough was enough. Its wings were damaged, blood was
dripping from a number of wounds and the forming deep crimson puddles on the
ground beneath it. Kisandra, from her vantage point in the trees, looked with
interest at the dark hue of the blood and made a mental note to research the
properties of dragon blood more fully once she returned to civilisation –
perhaps securing a few vials of the liquid would prove useful. Her contemplation
was interrupted, however, when Stormfang roared defiantly and pulled his wings
in close, straining at the ropes that bound him to the surrounding trees. With
a crack, three of the bonds were broken by the dragons immense strength, while one
of the remaining trees looked like it had nearly been uprooted by his efforts
to escape. All of a sudden, the adventurers saw that the dragon was not as well
secured as they had thought…
Unperturbed, Friar Buck again attempted to swing his axe at
the beast but missed as it thrashed around breaking its bonds. From the trees, Kisandra
waved her hands to form magical symbols in the air, concentrating before
blasting a Scorching Ray at the dragon. The first ray hit it squarely in the
chest, staggering the beast back. Almost losing her concentration as she was so
pleased to have hit the monster, the sorceress almost forgot to let loose with
the two remaining magical rays of flame, which then also struck the target and
scorched the dragon’s blue scales black.
Guillerme pushed his way past Droop, ignoring the goblin and
trying to slice his glaive into Stormfang’s front right claw. His glaive
missed, shaving a little bit of chitin off one finger but doing no discernible
damage to the dragon as he again got the weapon stuck in the ground. On the
other side of the path, Barendil finally managed to perfect his aim and shot an
arrow into a soft spot on the dragon’s neck, piercing its hide. The ranger
nodded to himself with satisfaction and drew another arrow.
Brida’s griffon again attempted to maul the dragon but could
not penetrate its defences. The leonine beast was doing an admirable job of
distracting the dragon but had yet to land a blow – perhaps it would have been
more at home fighting in the air rather than on the ground. Buck looked
questioningly at Brida, who shrugged. She knew the griffon was trying its best
to help and was thankful for its efforts to attack such a dangerous foe as a blue
dragon.
Nobby charged back into the fray as the dragon was
distracted by the griffon’s attacks and finally managed to pierce his hook into
its wing. He danced out of range again once the hook was in place, not wishing
to remain close enough for a retaliatory swipe from the monster. Nobby was
satisfied that he had replaced one of the broken tethers, hoping that would
keep the beast on the ground.
Across from Nobby, Droop picked himself up from the ground
and found the euphoria at his successful attack had worn off. He had now reverted
to his regular state of terror at being so close to such a horrifying monster
and so scrambled back, pushing his way through the hedge towards Kisandra and
relative safety. Brida refused to give ground and yelled an ululating war cry
that imbued her quarterstaff with nature’s fury, swinging the weapon round to
crack against the dragon’s serpentine neck.
Ignoring the druid’s blow as if it were no more than a bee sting,
the dragon once more strained at the ropes tethering it to the trees. There was
something more frantic about its efforts this time, as it had not suffered this
sort of pain and humiliation in many decades, and certainly not from such a ragtag
group of adventurers. The proud dragon realised that it needed to escape as
soon as it could, and so with an almighty jerk it broke the three remaining
bonds and prepared to leap into the sky.
As Stormfang bounded into the air, the foes surrounding him
had one final opportunity to try and slay him before he took to the skies.
Guillerme targeted his glaive at the wing that had been damaged by Droop
earlier, hacking at the wound and tearing it open still further in an attempt
to stop the beast from taking off. Though the wing was heavily damaged, the dragon
was still able to use it, though its movement was restricted. Buck also swung
his battleaxe at the drake, viciously slicing the beasts belly as it started to
move into the air. Brida swung her quarterstaff, missing the dragon, but the
griffon leapt into the air and raked its claws on the flanks of the dragon as
it flapped, unsteadily, into the sky.
Beating its tattered wings, the dragon slowly rose up higher,
above the ruined tower and away from its attackers. As it struggled to gain height,
Friar Buck stepped forwards and raised his arms to the heavens, calling out, “Die
heretic!” before thrusting his arms forwards and blasting a thunderous wave of
divine energy towards the retreating dragon with his Shatter spell. As the booming
echoes of the spell reverberated, the dragon fell from the sky like a ragdoll,
landing heavily on the ground in front of the tower, dead.
Rich Pickings
The blue dragon hadn’t even hit the ground before Nobby had unsheathed his dagger and started thinking about the scaly ears he might be able to harvest from it. Guillerme saw the hunger in the rogue’s eyes and knew what he was thinking, dropping his glaive and running towards the fallen beast. All he could think about was mounting that head above his father’s fireplace, a fitting tribute to his adventures and something Phillip had never achieved, and he would be damned if he was going to let Nobby sully that magnificent head by butchering the ears off!
Nobby, however, was already much closer to the dragon
corpse, and laughed as he saw Guillerme running in his heavy armour.
“Gah, look at that posh boy,” chuckled the rogue, “not even
halfway here and he’s got a stitch!”
With an almost leisurely jog, Nobby was at the dragon’s head
in moments and, much to Guillerme’s disgust, was beginning to search for the
ears, which were surprisingly small on such a large beast. Guillerme puffed his
way over, leaning on his knees with the effort, and shook his head at the
filthy rogue with disdain. Who was he to defile Guillerme’s prize like that?
The arrogance of the man astounded him; didn’t he know who the Don d’Lyonnes
were? This should have been Guillerme’s by right!
Ignoring the bickering surrounding the dragon corpse,
Barendil walked over to Brida and extended his hand in gratitude.
“Thank you for your assistance,” the elf said. “That battle
will be remembered!”
Brida shook her head in amazement. “I can’t believe we
killed the beast,” she said, “I’m very grateful for your assistance here in
Thundertree, this will go a long way to restoring the town and rebalancing
nature here in the Neverwinter Wood. I would be honoured to accompany you in
your quest to Wave Echo Cave, should you require me to guide you there.”
Kisandra joined the two of them, equally in a state of shock
at the battle and limping from her injuries.
“It looked like we were in serious trouble,” she remarked, “but
then we turned it around. A very successful strategy Barendil.”
Nodding his head with satisfaction, Barendil asked Brida, “Is
there any treasure within the dragon’s lair that you think might have belonged
to the town? Anything that needs to be restored to its rightful owners?”
The druid shook her head, and gave her assent to the party
entering the tower and looting whatever they could find. The dragon’s hoard had
been bolstered by the riches they had previously given to Stormfang, which
Nobby greedily picked up again, but they found additional gemstones and coins
within a chest. The hoard wasn’t as substantial as they expected, but as they
had previously learned, Stormfang had only moved to occupy this tower
relatively recently after previously having been ejected from his old lair, so
Barendil suspected he had simply not yet managed to accumulate a vast amount of
treasure. There were a couple of magical spell scrolls that Kisandra picked up,
possibly the property of the tower’s previous owner. She would make good use of
them.
Outside the tower, Brida stroked the griffon’s feathered head gently and stood back as it launched itself into the sky and returned to whence it came, shrieking in triumph as it went. The rest of the party exited the dragon’s lair, carefully picking their way around the large blue corpse. They shared a moment of celebration at what they had managed to achieve. Through a combination of careful planning, coordinated effort and good fortune, they had managed to dispatch an incredibly dangerous enemy and bring some degree of safety to the ruins of Thundertree. Their conversation turned to what they would do next… should they complete the exploration of Thundertree and eliminate any and all threats that may exist, or press on with their main quest as quickly as possible while leaving someone else to clean up the town? What could they do to help Brida rebuild Thundertree? Would it be appropriate for Guillerme to rename the town? What should they do with the dragon corpse? Perhaps more importantly, should they proceed to Cragmaw Castle or head for Wave Echo Cave directly? These questions were all being debated as the afternoon sun began to dip in the sky.
After much debate, a vote within the party appeared to be in favour of finding and destroying all enemies within Thundertree before heading to Cragmaw Castle, but for now the adventurers drew relieved breaths and were thankful that they had survived such a titanic battle.
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| Thundertree Ruins at the end of Session 13 |
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| The party's regional map of the Sword Coast around Phandalin, updated after discussion with Brida |
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