The Black Drake: Patron's Story

Biceps shaking, back muscles and legs bulging, I stand back from the doors. Sweat dripping from my forehead. I own the muscular strength of a great fighter and have bested many stronger creatures, I thought. I won’t be beaten by a door!

“Fixler, Rona-lona, come, help me open this vault,” I call and turn my back on the two massive stone doors.

My eyes squint, looking at the vast landscape before us. A fly buzzes my face, attracted by moisture. I look out from Backgammon’s Peak over the foothills and onto a savannah that stretches to the horizon. In the north the air is yellow, ill-looking. The ruins of an ancient Elven city lie that way. To the south a spur of forested hills juts from the mountains into the savannah, marking the edge of the North Vale and, Lake Moss Vale, my home.

I see Fixler and Rona-Lona walking across the paved court in front of the tower that protrudes from the side of Backgammon’s peak. I thought about the corridor that brought us here from the junction deep in the mountain. Perhaps there was a way around this door.

Fixler, an Elf with both a sword and a brain, and Rona-Lona looked at the doors. Rona-Lona was a woman who fights with sword and dresses in leather and plate. She’s no beauty but beneath her brown locks and stern brown eyes there was true grit and an appetite for adventure. Surely together, we can bust these doors open!

“Fixler, where is Wizz?” I huff.

“He’s in the keep, scouting the inside,” Fixler replied, “are you sure about these doors?” Fixler pointed to several deep gouges in the stone that the doors must make when opened.

“Whatever has been opening these doors has 10 times our strength,” said Rona-Lona”.

Atlas calls out in Elven from the other side of the paved terrace. “Wizz has found a way around. Come on.”

I saw the oversize owl again in the tower as we head back from the open terrace. It looked quizzical. Something to check out later. I grab a few feathers from the floor as we head into the hillside to the main corridor. We had taken a small side door and found ourselves outside. Now we were back in the main corridor and Wizz was beckoning us towards two grand doors that were letting through some daylight. Beyond the doors, a room lit through slits high in the wall, led through three dark arches to a wide circular space. On the far side a terrace protrudes from the wall perhaps 15” off the floor and supported by a single pillar.

The air temperature was dropping. As I move forward with the rest of the party behind me, I notice Atlas dropping back to guard the rear. Still moving forward, my pace slows, again the temperature drops, and as we move into the large circular room with the terrace on the far side, the room darkens and I see my breath fogging before me, A chill runs down my spine.

“Wizz, where are you?” I whisper. Wizz can make himself unseen and silent when he chooses.

A faint sound comes from the blackness ahead.

“It’s up there,” says Wizz, so softly I could only just discern it to be Wizz.

I look back to the party and in the deepening darkness everyone had stopped as if poisoned by fear. Repulsion and alarm fill their faces. Another wave of bone-chilling air seeps around us, hissing and licking at our souls. My body and bones are shaking and aching. The temperature continues to drop, freezing my dripping nose. My teeth begin to chatter. Suddenly, Wizz backs into me. I see his eyes darting in all directions, madness has taken hold in his head. I grab hold of him and slap hard his face. He clears and recognises me.

In his ear I say “Wizz, get a grip.” His expression changes, slowly at first, but then quickens to embarrassment and anger. He’s back with us, I think. He slips into the shadows.

I repeat the process with Rona-Lona, Atlas, Karr and Fixler, all frozen with dread, terrified of the chilling horror hidden in the darkness.

“Hold fast my friends, our time is now,” I cry as I slap each in turn.

Then, “To arms, to arms,” I shout and turn to the darkness.

I arrive at the wall beneath the terrace. I hear but cannot see Wizz slowly moving up the wall, just a few feet to my right. Pitiless, cold evil air flows over the lip above and down to the room below. I climb to the left, up and over into the black abyss, courage and valour steeling my resolve.

The cold and dark hides a savage form. A dragon like creature, sleek like back oil some 20” long. Only glimpses of its strength can be seen spinning through the shrouding darkness: obsidian black, cruel, curved claws and teeth. A Black Drake.

I stand and face the beast alone, shrouded in the hateful black cloud. It churns and darts. It approaches and shifts. I struggle to locate its form in the gloomy dark shadows. Striking with my glowing elven sword I hit the leathery black hide. A deep cut exposes flesh and dark green blood.

Suddenly, its head looms before me with a sly and cruel grin showing layers of sword sharp teeth that stab towards me. Pain shoots down my arm and through to my chest. Then claws rake at me. I cannot stand for long.

In the madness I catch sight of Wizz behind the evil tempered and vile lizard. It shrieks in pain as Wizz slashes. More of the party climb and join the fray. Karr, the cleric, mutters incantations. Rona-Lona slashes with her glowing spear. Fixler stands beside me and we redouble our effort.

Its unruly head is marked by spiked horns and its forked tongue flicks wildly, spraying acid like vile fluid. It reeks of rotting vegetation and foul water. Unbreakable, lightning fast, again and again it attacks. Fixler goes down, his blood spraying across my face. I begin to falter; in desperation I lash out, cutting through the bone of a clawed forearm. With a shriek of pain, the beast turns and launches off the terrace to flee the battle.

As it drops off the ledge Wizz runs forward and leaps, landing on the Drakes back. I follow suit, leaping in desperation to kill the wicked creature once and for all. Rona-Lona steps to the edge of the terrace and with all her might she powers her magic spear through the air towards the fleeing beast. The throw is flawless, and the spear sinks deep into the drake’s neck at the base of the skull, piercing from the back and emerging through the mouth. The beast thrashes on the flagstones and then is quiet.

With the death of the creature the room lights and warms. Karr channels the God of War and heals Fixler’s arm, which had almost been torn off in one of the drake’s clawing attacks. We hug and congratulate each other, laughing about how the halls will ring of songs of Rona-Lona the drake slayer.