Dragonstorm

A night's rest
Silence's dream

My lungs burn…why am I running? I can’t breathe! How long? The light on the horizon, it’s just out of my reach.

“You must extinguish the light, the shadow must play its part…” Why am I saying this?
“You must extinguish the light, the shadow must play its part…” I need air!
“You must extinguish the light, the shadow must play its part…” I must extinguish the light!!!
“You must extinguish the light, the shadow must play its part…” Is that a person…me? On the horizon?
“You must extinguish the light, the shadow must play its part…” I’m going to die! I can’t breathe!

Just when I thought it was over…I found myself where I should be.

Air in my lungs…weapon in hand…Blood?
Crimson dripped onto the body at my feet…me again? No. It’s not me…it’s…the light;
The light I must extinguish.

For Shar.
-
I awake abruptly, gasping for breath.

“Everything alright?” Apparently Illiana is a light sleeper.

Although, sleeping in a room full of dangerous, powerful, and absurd people doesn’t make it any easier to rest.

“I…” I start, but I’m not even sure how to respond.

“You’re dreaming too?” She’d been having nightmares lately. Though, with her power, they’re more likely visions.

“Yes, but it’s different…I’m…learning.” I can’t reveal any details, it’s forbidden.

She gives me a confused look.

“It’s nothing, you should try to sleep. We’re going through that portal,” I don’t want to draw this out any further.

Cestii wouldn’t be pleased with my attachment. “Darkness is all that will remain. Abandon all else.”

“I just need some air,” I step out into the night. It’s cold. Humidity doesn’t lend itself well to the north.

I need to write my letter. As always, I write in encrypted infernal; without magical means, no one but Cestii could read this.

Letter to Cestii of the Monastery in the Vale

“I’ve been studying and I’ve discovered something. The Dark Lady has blessed me.
I will serve well. The darkness is revealing itself to me.

Only hate will endure.

-S"

I must get this delivered…

With my ability…perhaps? Perhaps another day.
I suppose I shouldn’t let these fools kill themselves…or bring harm to Illiana.

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Mage Mayhem
Part II

Oh dear gods what have we come across? The half eaten body of the mage is just lying on the floor while Mister Dwalin starts to cut off the monster’s head! It has one huge eyeball and why anyone would think to keep a head is beyond me. Mister Mopan starts to direct his detainer Mjor, and she starts to clean up and proceeds to bury what’s left of the poor mage. It’s getting later in the day and I am pretty sure we’re going to end up spending the night here. Although I am not so sure as to how wise a decision that is considering we’re holing up in a dead man’s house! Mister Mopan escorts me outside so we can both scout the perimeter of the estate. There’s not much. But we do discover that the horrible man eating monoclopped beast got into the house. Claw marks indicate that it jumped over the low lying fence. I’m terrified. I don’t want to stay inside, but something tells me camping outside will also be dangerous. I half want to take my chances but I want to make sure the weather will not be rough. My magic can only tell me that the next 24 hours is going to be a sickly black. Black? What the hellebore does that mean? I’ve cast this spell so many times since Garrett first taught it to me ten years ago and yet I’ve never seen the forecast look anything like this before! Mister Mopan seems to think it means the weather just looks foul enough that we should stay indoors, but maybe it’s just because he’s a creature of comfort. As we make our way back inside the house, both Misters Dwalin and Bird are busy rifling thru the poor mage’s library. Poor Mjor has done a fine job cleaning up, but I highly doubt the blood stains will come out. What a shame.

I’m worried. It seems to have been too quiet since we arrived and I want to make sure no one else is lurking upstairs. This is no small hobbit hole. So as we make our way up the stairs, the hallway opens up to a few doors. Misters Bird and Mopan seem to have ideas of their own as they choose doors closest to them. I make my way to the door at the end of the hallway and as I put my ear to the door to listen for any sound, I jump right out of my skin as I’m startled by the loud banging of Mister Mopan masterfully kicking down the door of his choosing. As I’m trying to swallow my heart that’s jumped into my throat, I look over to Mister Bird at the ready at his open door and Mister Mopan gleefully breaking down his second. At this point, we’ve lost the element of any surprise so I try for my door. It’s unlocked. I turn the handle and push the door open. It’s a bedroom. A huge bedroom. I could put my whole family up in this room-and not just the Blossom clan, but the Buttonwillows and the Marshweeds too! There is an elegant bed in the room and as I stand in the doorframe about to step in, Mister Mopan hurdles past me in a woosh and leaps on to the sumptuous bed linens. So much for gentlemanly chivalry! But for a dwarf I must say he is veerrry limber.

From my line of sight, there are 5 boxes visible underneath the bed. Perhaps there may be something we can learn from the mage who lived here or find something of value? As I open the first box, I’m HORRIFIED to find myself looking at poorly drawn obscene trash! I’m hoping to find more than just trashy smut but as I progress throught the boxes, the artistry seems to get better—I mean it’s just as tasteless as the last but the artist seems to have progressed in his skill to make the drawings as realistic as possible. Mister Mopan’s only response to my audible surprise of “TRASH!” is that this mage did not keep a clean house. I think he may have been too busy being enthralled with the linen quality. And I’m glad too, because I am so sure my face was the brightest shade of beet red possible, for in the last box to my shock is a portrait of Mister Mopan himself, in the buff, on an owl-bear skin rug! I can’t bear myself to bring this up, I might die of embarrassment!

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I meet my saviors!
I'm not sure how to feel about them

I’ve arrived in Waterdeep and this town is amazing! It’s huge! It would take me years to visit every apothecary and shop around. There’s so many different people here and the food in every single stall is amazing! I don’t have nearly enough eyes to see all the wonderful things this town has to offer. But there isn’t time to dawdle. I’ve arrived and have to keep my appointment with the town council and they seem to be aware of the situation we are experiencing. They’ve told me there’s been something suspicious going on similar to what Briar and I found when we came across the dying doe.

lady Silverhand has graciously requested that i show the council where I’ve encountered the strange goings on Delimbiyran but because the people here are so tall i can’t quite reach the table. I climb up and point out where the troubles have started and after much hushed deliberation from the council, lady silverhand informs me that there will be a party of several people to help me try and figure out a solution to the problem.

Soon after, several people arrive in the council room .And they are a very exotic looking bunch. Two men in particular stand out; one, a gnome who because of his small stature i almost mistake him for one of my own but with a strange way of speaking and the second a dwarf with an extravagant mustache with such an impressive personality i can’t help but be blown away by how dashing he is. I’m not sure what their connection with the council is, but after listening to Lady Silverhand list off their exploits I am to assume that the crew has an ill reputation of setting taverns afire and loosing criminals into the streets. I’m very much afraid of what I am to do with such a rag tag bunch of criminals! I am so out of my league at this point but Lady Silverhand elaborates that they are to accompany me back home. I’m so excited! and scared!

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Cheery's first step into the wide world!
We have to do something!

Things have been looking rather drab in town. After Briar and I found that dying doe with black soulless eyes, we took it as a sign that it’s the end of the line. There isn’t much more to be said about the situation. I need to do something about it! All of the crops have been failing and I’m afraid if nothing’s done, everyone will hardly make it through another 2 years. I’m terrified. I wish Garrett were still here to help me. He’d know what to do. The townsfolk are now imploring me to try to do something about it but with my limited knowledge of Garrett’s teachings, there’s not much left I can do. I’m hoping there will be answers to be had in Waterdeep. Garret once mentioned there’s tons of information for any further studying. Leaving the comfort of Delimbiyran is not ideal but without any further help, we’re all doomed.

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Visions
The dread of the future.

She woke up in a sweat, the visions were back and even more threatening than the last. Power, magic, the Cult of the Dragon in full swing massacring thousands. To think about that being the future was infuriating. She knew she had to do something about it, to avenge the people she had hurt in the past. It was going to take some bloodshed and she could no longer sit back and have Silence do it for her. He had been there for her for months helping her get through the visions by teaching her Monkish ways to calm the mind. The tattoos kept appearing on her skin after the visions ceased, no one noticed as they grew darker along the way.
After finding the lead at the Roadhouse she knew the visions would increase, it seemed the Cult was connected for some reason, as they were always involved. The Mere of the Dead was a wretched place filled with awful creatures. It seemed as though they were all working with the Cultists. They went through the bog at a careful but hastened speed hoping to find the Cultists’ lair. They came along another group and decided they were trustworthy. Just when things seemed to be looking up, they heard voices. Out of an eerie magical mist, scaled lizard men rowed to shore. Immediately she thought of something in the vision, it was a quick flash but she had seen these creatures alongside the Cultists, helping them get closer to a dragon’s den. She knew they must be stopped, she let off her ray of frost hoping to slow them. The dampness of the bog ruined the depth of her spell and instead it just sprayed the lizard men with a mist. The rest of her group advanced and she let off her scorching rays, one of them seemed to be unharmed by the ray, and she started to wonder if that was their leader. One by one they were taken down when only two were left. One of the new group members, a small thing, tied up the one she thought was their leader. She and Silence had told the group in the beginning that they needed to save one for questioning.
The group looked strangely at her while she interrogated this scaly fiend. She wanted him to tell her who he worked for, which she thought was the Cult. He wouldn’t cooperate and she had had enough. She sliced his cheek with the only dagger she possessed. The second Lizard went unconscious, just then the leader said dripping with contention that he loathed the Cultists and would never work for them. As the other Lizard came to, the leader refused to tell them who he worked for. She ordered them to kill the other Lizard as his influence seemed to impair the information she had been receiving from the leader initially. As the elbow smashed his head, the leader began to scream and look at her with the most hatred she had ever been on the receiving end of. As she realized the mistake she had made, she retreated to let someone else get information out of him.
He still screamed and spat at her and the group continued to look at her and him puzzled. They asked her what he was saying and she thought they were idiots as he was speaking loudly and clearly. She relayed the conversation to them, when he cut her off speaking to them. This gave her a chance to think about the vision, had she misinterpreted it? Was it another scaled being? As she thought more, she realized it must have been either a half dragon, or kobold. She was wrong. She knew an apology would not be enough, so she sat silently going along with the rest of the groups actions. Even Silence looked at her quizzically. She asked him what was wrong, and he said, “Lily, you were speaking Draconic.”

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Into the Rabbit Cave
The Blue Dragons conquer all

We decide to go into the cave. We can still hear the crackling of the goblins, but we can not tell how far away they are. Spiraling downwards, we travel deeper and deeper into the cave. Page is leading followed by myself, Deerden, and Gilf. Deerden is checking for traps and finds many broken traps and bones, but no current active traps.

Suddenly, Page sees something is the corner of her, but we turn around and see nothing. This will be the first strange event in a otherwise extremely suspicious tale. We go a little further and suddenly I pass out where I see a dead nation.

I wake up into a panic and yell, “I had a horrible dream. I dreamt of a dead nation without blood”, but everybody else is too busy with their problems. Deerden can’t move and Page seems to have lost her tail. I can still see her tail, but she thinks that she has lost it. We panic, unsure of what to do or what has happened to us.

Suddenly, I am back in the dream world and I started to move through it. I attempt to check the bodies for blood, but there is none. I even attempt to do magic, but it seems I am unable to do so. Without blood and magic, I am utterly defenseless. I am going to have to use something else to get out of this. While I am traveling through the history of the nation, the Dead Nation rises and falls. I notice little things, like somehow my presence is changing and effecting the history, but unfortunately I don’t recognize his nation of men.

In a moment of panic, I turn to one thing that I often ignored – religion. I remember the countless hours of praying that my human mother wasted her life on, but in this moment of doubt I find myself turning towards prayer.

“Dear All Mighty Creator, I’m in a dream state with no blood, no magic, and in a nation of men who I don’t recognize. Please guide me towards the light and out of this dream or to the truth.”

Suddenly a voice calls out. “The truth isn’t always clear, and the light not always bright.”

That is not the divine intervention of a god. That is the voice of another magic user – perhaps a necromancer. I see a priest, perhaps this is the necromancer. Sneaking up towards the priest, I take out my dagger, and stab the priest. The daggers pass through the priest and the priest reforms rapidly aging. This is not the necromancer, but an distraction.

Regaining my courage, I attempt to find an event in the history of the Dead Nation and change it. Suddenly, the dream jumps around to a great drought that wracks the land and robs many of their loved ones. I attempt to make a storm – to change the history of this dream and hopefully break it. I will rain down a storm to alleviate the people of their drought. Clouds form, but instead of rain…blood rain down from the heavens. Finally! Something familiar! Even though it defies logic, I am happy to be raining blood down. Reinvigorated, I try to increase the storm drawing more power from the blood, creating more clouds, and attempting to down the Nation of the Dead in blood.

Suddenly a voice chants over and over, “Blood flows into Blood.” I am making progress! I can finally hear the necromancer through the illusion. Maybe I can break his concentration and release myself from this dream world. Using the blood storm around me and gathering up my full strength, I begin to chant in a counter spell,

“I call upon the blood of my ancestors – the Blue Dragons. Truth isn’t always clear, the light not always bright, and blood flows into blood, but the Blue Dragons will conquer all.”

The next thing I know is that I wake up 50 yards away from the caravan with a tattoo. Returning to the caravan, I drink some beer with Page and the other, but I soon turn away from some introspection. I must study and reflect on this experience.

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Troll Blood has healing properties
The story of the golden stag

Dawn breaks a new day in the adventure of Gandalf, the blood scientist. Unfortunately, most of travelers fear the unknown and are content to live in the dark ages. Few minds are trying to progress society and the magical arts such as I. How low has the civil wars among the elves, the bloodthirsty lust of the humans, and the horrors of the filthy orcs have brought us? Anyway, meeting back at the caravan I am pleased to find Page, alive and well. The red tielfing, however, leaves us to flee back into her forest. I wonder if we shall ever see her again?

I greet Baed, the wealthy ale wagon, and I try to convince him to join our guard. Unfortunately, he is unimpressed with our skills seeing how the half-orc is a novice and the dwarf spends all of his time drinking. It is hard to find good help these days. I cast some lighting, but the idiot GILF cast Magic Armor – a fairly useless spell since I have a dragonic bloodline and then attacks me with his sword and injuries me. His incompetence further convinces Baed that he is better off on his own. Fortunately, our time is not wasted as he tells us a story of the golden stag. He desires its hide, but he wants us to bring it to him instead of Archy who was the first person to see it.

That night we invite Archy to the campfire and we get him a bit drunk so he would tell us the story about a golden stag. He tells us that the golden stag is found a day way near the ocean. He last saw it near the ocean cliff and there’s typically in ocean breeze accompanying it. The next day we wake up and for some reason, we are trying to find Elkin. Archy information was sketchy at best, so we decided to get somebody’s opinion. We try to find Elkin and can’t find her. We spend half a day looking for her and eventually find her with some goblins who we immediately kill. (I, of course, take some blood for analysis later.) We take Elkin back to the caravan where she is resting.

Sensing this emergency, I begin to experiment with the troll blood since I know it has regenerative properties. The troll blood has a healthy blueish, redish tinge and I can feel its magical. Extracting the blood will be difficult and purification of the blood will be even more difficult, but I am anxious to try it. The first batch of blood I try to extract has been contaminated, so the blood cells won’t come apart and it is rendered useless. The next attempt goes badly as well as the blood refuses to separate. For the next attempt, I try to reduce heat to make it easier to separate and success! The blood extracts, but unfortunately the heat is not enough to purify. Instead the blood cells don’t unwind enough to get rid of the non-magical cells. Therefore, I slightly increase the temperature again and was able to successful extract and purify the magical properties of the troll blood.

Unfortunately, the dim-minded of our group disagree with the troll blood, so I end up trying it first. It works of course as the slight wound that I took while battling the goblins heals, but I do feel slightly funny. However, I hide this from the group and I am able to feed the potion to Elkin and she heals! We decide to track the goblins to a cave and attempt to lure them out, but they refuse to come out. It looks like we will have to go into the cave.

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Back to the Caravan
Fire beats Troll

I woke up on a bank of a river – I believe its called The Winding Water. I couldn’t see Page, the blue tiefling around nor the dead body of the Spark. There was still the cliffs to my left, but to my right was a steep hill. Groggily, I climbed up the steep hill and pulled out my spyglass to see miles and miles of forest! I was lost! Suddenly I felt a presence – I was being watched!

A few moments later, a half-orc appears – but it only a caravan scout! Another scout, a Dragonborn, appears huffing and puffing behind. We introduce ourselves and luckily they know the way back to the caravan since they are a bit more experienced than I am. They actually saw Page and I running through the forest and followed to assist us, but luckily I didn’t need it. Thank goodness, some luck at last!

Suddenly we hear whispers and the ground shakes, but there’s somebody casting magic near by. A huge red tiefling appears demanding us to leave her forest. I quickly defuse the situation, but the tiefling is very uncooperative, hesitate, and suspicious. However, she looks good natured, so I tell her our situation. We head out to cave where we rest for the night and I immediate knock out since I am dead tired.

At the cave, there are two tunnels that lead further into the mountain, but we decided against going further in. At daybreak the next day, we head into the forest – towards the Troll Claws to get back to our caravan. Unfortunately it is the fast way back to the caravan and we have fallen quite bit behind.

We spend the entire day trekking the forest and reach the end of the forest at dusk. I am a bit hesitant to try to Troll Claws at nighttime, but the others insist we need to catch up to the caravan, so we attempt it. As we are making good time, we suddenly hear the enormous footfalls of a troll approaching. I glance around for a place to hide, but it seems unlikely to hide a Dragonborn in the brush. Fortunately the red tiefling casts a huge fog for cover and we are able to slip past the troll.

Later in the night as the storm continues to rage and the ground gets muddy and slicker. All of a sudden the red tiefling slips down the hill and crashes in the brush. We hurry down to help and hear – a loud roar. Behind us at the top of the hill is a TROLL!

The Troll comes barreling down towards us – The Dragonborn whips out his two swords while I cast True Strike – learning that Trolls are weak to FIre and Acid. Unfortunately I have no fire and acid! The Red Tiefling casts a spell which traps the Troll. Then she sends a flaming spear and set the entire forest on fire! I cast Witch Bolt and send lightning strikes down upon it while the other half-orc is send magic missiles towards it.

Enraged the Troll roars and tries to break free from the binds and gets away from the fire – right into the knives of the dragonborn. The half-orc continue to pummel it with magic, but the Red Tielfing charges while conjuring a magic flaming sword. She swipes out its legs causing it to stumble forward and then beheads the troll.

Since I have near faced a troll before, I rush up and gather two flasks of its blood. I know that Trolls have regenerative properties so this blood will be priceless! I can’t wait to test it out. I don’t even think my father’s collection had troll blood. I will test it as soon as I return to the camp.

We reach the road at daytime without further incident. We see that the caravan is still ahead of us in the North. As we hurry along to catch up, all a sudden 4 wolves appear behind and attack! We are able to quick dispatch the wolves quickly. When I examined the wolves for blood-which they do unlike the other wolf-, I also notice a brand.

D_D_Mark.png

I try to skin the brand off the Wolf, but I am unsuccessful. Luckily I write it down. We make it back to the caravan. What is this mysterious mark?

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Entitlement and class
the thrill of the chase

Running with a caravan is always an interesting decision on my part. You meet the most interesting people. And by interesting I mean judgemental.

Gandalf is a bit classist. And by classist I mean a terrible person. He’s a blood hungry and narrowminded stick up his armor magician. Listening to Gandalf ask Spark about his upbringing was absolutely enraging. Spark may have half blood human and elf in him but that doesn’t give Gandalf the right to judge him for “centuries of elf enslavement by humans”, a fault mind you, not of his own making. He then turns to me and has the audacity to ask me about my family, information I’d like nothing more to give freely to a bookworm such as he, and to ask whence I come. A tiefling has no land. And for a wanderer as myself i will admit it did give me a slight pang of sorrow to be reminded of that fact. For a scholar who constantly reads he certainly is uneducated. And I am deeply offended he chooses to inflict his ignorance on me. And they say those of us who choose to wander are the barbarians! Tactless. The wagon is getting a bit too stuffy for my liking and well met is the commotion at the back of the caravan. I am itching to put my anger to some use.

The wagons are driving into a field that is misted and drab and sparse. The rain is hailing down and Gandalf issues a warning that he hears the baying of wolves. Wolves? Hellfire and Horns, I hate dogs. He’s jumped up on the wagon to try to see thru the rain and shouts he sees NOTHING, yet he fires magic in the direction of the commotion with no regard for the danger he is about to unfurl!

From the top of the wagon he’s shouting to brace ourselves as 5 of these hairy mongrels come barreling out of the dark. Swifter than I have seen these are not your average dogs. I swing my hammer with a ferocity I haven’t felt in a long time and smash the ever loving guts and glory out of the fleabag and into the ground. Rain isn’t the only thing falling down as lightning and singed fur is hailing from the top of the caravan so I’m assuming Gandalf is doing alright where he is. Spark however cannot handle himself to take on the three that have beelined for him and as i make my way to the other side of the wagon I swing my hammer and break the closest dog’s face to death. The rest of the battle blurs by but Spark takes a hit and doesn’t seem like he’s going to get up and the last one manages to get away. The most unsettling thing about this is that it squarely looked at both me and Gandalf and growls with what is clearly and shockingly understandable. “Not today…” before running off. Good riddance. These were not your average mutts.

Amid the mess of bone and fur I hoist Spark’s limp body into the wagon and he utters a groan. Maybe he will make it. The damn fool of a healer. When will the weak learn it is the strongest who survive? Gandalf with his disgusting habit of collecting blood, discovers that these monsters are DEVOID of it. What in all that is unholy is going on. Talking fleabags devoid of blood? There is still chaos within the wagon train and Achrany meets us drenched in blood. His 6th sense is telling us that we must kill the one fleabag that got away. I can only assume this will not end well.

Gandalf tries his hand at swaying Spark into staying with the wagon but a healer may come in handy with the trouble i assume we are about to unravel. We head east to follow the tracks and suddenly the hunters have become the prey as we are met with a horde of beasts thundering toward us from behind. Running is the only solution at this point because Spark is not in the best of health, and fighting them off outnumbered isn’t my first choice.

We keep our best to stay on the trail of the devil dog but the rain is torrential and the terrain is difficult. I cannot tell who slips in the mud but there’s no time to turn around because they are hot on our tail. Snapping at our heels, their breath is disgustingly hot in their bloodthirsty chase. I hope to their gods that Spark and Gandalf can keep up. We have too many close calls, and the “wise” magician fool Gandalf decides to cast a spell that knocks the closest wolves down but also knocks me to my knees and Spark takes a tumble into the slippery mud. He’s out cold. That pompous ass Gandalf wants to leave him to the dogs. I hurl Spark over my shoulder and start to run. He weighs almost nothing. And we keep running. Running until there is no more ground beneath us. We arrive to the edge of a cliff and not really having thought things through, Gandalf turns to me and blurts out we jump. I’d rather face the odds of surviving the jump than to face the innumerable snarling fangs that we would encounter. And with Spark holding me down I don’t have much choice in the matter. But I take the leap into the icy depths and I lose him in the wash.

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Attack by Wolves
Blood can always tell

As we continue closer to the Field of Dreams…or Field of Death, something like that. I felt a very ominous presence. Something is coming!

We stop for the night and I disengage from my reading for a bit. Page is aloof on the outskirts of the camp while the Dwarf is drinking again. Looking around I decide to talk to Spark to find a bit more about him. As a fellow magic caster, I am not impressed that he has chosen the boring art of healing.

I entered into a short conversation with Spark finding out that he was from Elturel, which is a very poor place for elves and his upbringing. The Elves of Elturel were enslaved by humans for a millennium and with the new anti-slavery laws, they were sent free. Instead of leaving and returning to the elven nations, the elves of Elturel stayed to serve their human masters. Now, I am not prejudiced against all humans, just like I am not prejudice against all elves, but blood is important.

Blood is the source of all magical power gifted to the Elves from the ages-long partnership between Elves and Dragons. Really it is the blood of my bronze dragons that allow me to cast magic. Millenniums of tradition and studying have fine tune these gifts into skills for the Elves of my clan- making tremendous advances and shaping the course of history! Even my mother has the noble blood of Numenor running through her veins! Alast, I am blessed with the upbringing of the magical blood of the bronze dragons and the noble blood of the courageous Numenor humans! Unfortunately, the Elves from Elturel practice poor human magic and don’t have the blood of the dragons running through their veins!

Then Spark told me his mother was the elf?!? It would be perfectly acceptable for a male elf to take a female human lover, but for a female elf to spoil her bloodline with the dirty blood of a lower human blood of Elturel? I thought less of Spark when I first met him, but now I utterly am disgusted. The blood of the lower human races have lost all nobility and courage! Cowardness run through his veins! Allast, it really is not his fault, but his parents! I will have to see if he is able to outcome his upbringing and prove himself worthy.

As I am talking to Page, I see that she is listening into our conversation and her tail is twitching. Spark talks about how history and tradition does not matter anymore, but I turn to Page and start to ask her questions about her background. She is still aloof and not really talking about her background! She tells me to return to my reading and she is right; I must continue my studying. Soon, others fall asleep, but I continue to read into the night.

I wake up a bit disoriented, but immediately the caravan starts moving. We are going deeper into the Field of Death. The rain keeps pouring down and visibility is at an all time low. Deciding to light by staff, the blue light of the bronze dragons conforms my heart and give me courage. Traveling in the dim light of my ancestors, I soon hear a distinct howl of wolves from the back end of the caravan! Preparing a spell, I jump into the caravan and (even though I am a bit tired and can’t see a thing) through sheer magical feeling, I guide my blue dragon lightning missiles, obliterating a wolf. 5 wolves turn away from the caravan and attack us. I shoot 4 more missiles at each wolf, weakening them around Spark. Page smashes one skull into the ground with her battle-ax while another one jumps onto the wagon. Feeling rejuvenated, I send more missiles through the eyes of my opponent killing him instantly. Turning towards the other wolves, I see Page destroy another one! That tiefling can fight! Spark, however, becomes injured and runs around behind Page as he flees a wolf bits him and he collapses! Coward! Blood can always tell!

Page and I finish off the penultimate wolf, but the last wolf growls, “Dragon” and runs away. He fears my blood of the bronze dragons! Unwilling to let him escape, I shoot missiles towards him but with a speed unnatural to the wolves, he dodges and escapes. I feel alive with the storm running overheard and the magic full at my command! Tonight is a good night for fighting!

Page picks up Spark and he wakes up. Disgusted, I ask him why did he run away? He does not answer, but I give him a healing potion anyway. I try to collect the blood of the my enemies, but I find that they are DEVOID of blood! These are not wolves at all, but something darker!

Then, Archy appears covered in blood. Archy wanted us to go after the lone wolf that escaped. We warns that we do not kill that last wolf that everybody will die! Seeing that Spark is in no condition to chase after the wolf and a coward, I told him to stay at the camp. Turning to page, I head off into the forest following pawprints. Spark decides to come with us.

Running deeper into the forest, we follow the tracks and notice they turn northest! The rain is falling harder making the ground slick and muddy. Suddenly, a large howl screams into the night, we immediately start running. We manage to get a good head-start on them with Page in front, then myself, and then Spark! Soon, Spark slips and but is able to get up quickly, as the pack draws near. We speed down in to a valley and then turn right towards a rocky path on a side of the hill.

Still following the paw prints, we began to climb up the hill. Now the wolves are nearly on top of us. Out of the darkness, wolves jump and bit at our heels. I am able to dodge a few, but sustain a few bites. Feeling exhaust and thinking quickly, I channel the lightning, casting a mighty thunderwave to slow them down – instantly killing 5 to slow down and pushing the rest back.

Unfortunately Page and Spark get caught in the blast. Page bounces back quickly, but Spark collapses completely. I told him that he should not have come! Page wastes precious seconds trying to heal him, but then picks him. Leave him! I say his blood too dirty even to collect. Blood can always tell.

Continuing to run, we keep running until we end up at a cliff. Trapped we have two options, turn and fight or jump into the water below. I yell to Page to jump! Page jumps into the River, but I stay behind until the wolfs are always on top of me! Nearly 25 wolfs come barreling down towards. Taking a deep breath, I feel the storm raging about me. I feel wild untapped pockets of magic energy. I remember, the words of my father, “Blood can always tell.” Using the noble ancient blood of dragons, I tap into this old magic and cast a massive thunderwave, zapping all 25 wolfs to crisp. Smiling, I turn and jump into the river after Page.

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