I am totally exhausted, but I feel I must write down the events of these past few hours before I sleep. I find it difficult to concentrate on my pen, and I can already see that my letters grow as they reach for the right side of the page, and that my lines are not parallel, and that I am slipping into the common tongue far more often than I would like, because I simply can not bring to mind the many languages I know. Despite my exhaustion, and the pain that seems to spread through my whole body, my heart is still pounding. After the dragon – ah, I am getting ahead of myself. I will endeavor to recount every important event as it happened.
The Tracker is rapidly pacing back and forth beside me. I will not turn my aching neck to follow his movements, but every …
fifteen …
yes, about fifteen seconds, his legs pass, his feet nearly trampling on my journal, and every time he avoids me with a hasty leap that follows so smoothly that it does not interrupt his movements at all. His pacing calms my thoughts. The Infiltrator's feverish mumblings seem attuned to the rhythm of the Tracker's pacing, and I can see my pen moving up and down rhythmically as well, rounding my letters and straightening my lines. I will write what I can while my hand and mind are calm….
The entrance room of the tower was guarded by five kobolds. In the short battle, I killed two of them with my crossbow. I am still uncomfortable with this new weapon, but I have begun to like it. I have reasonable aim, and I can help the others from a distance, leaving me unhindered when casting spells. I will have to accustom myself to a dependency on ammunition.
When the battle was over, I unclasped the medallion from each kobold's neck, pocketing all five. Soon thereafter, I added a sixth. I suspect the six dragon medallions may become useful, and their weight is so insignificant that, were it not for the stink, I would easily forget I carried them.
We continued on, fighting kobolds and rats almost wherever we went. To my increasing annoyance, the others insisted on searching every room we came across. We wasted hours on trivial matters, even though we knew where to find Mother and our equipment, while I felt a sense of urgency growing almost to paranoia about my journal. Thus, most of our battles passed me over, but a few events occurred that were interesting enough to remember.
The first such event involved the room with the dragon fountain, that we had first seen on our last visit. The town's blacksmith had told our Tracker that the priest might be able to learn something about the magically barred door. I took a hand at it as well, and I'd just discovered that the door was held with a necromantic charm, when the priest called upon some power to open the door. Just like that, the magic was dispelled. From what I've seen before and since, I believe this power is related to his ability to destroy the undead.
The room behind the door contained five sarcophagi designed for elves, and a shrine to a dragon. I am ashamed to say that, after having strongly urged caution on the others, I rushed into the room to look at the shrine. The others followed, and, as soon as we had all entered, the sarcophagi opened. The animated skeleton of an elf emerged from each one. Fortunately, the priest was able to use his power again to destroy the undead elves, and we were able to safely explore the room.
Some very interesting objects stood in a row on the shrine, and the priest cast a spell to identify them. One was a vial of some liquid, which faintly radiated with protective magic. The next was a burning candle, which we gathered was similar to the magical torches that some of the others carry. It must have been burning for a very long time, since the room did not smell of kobolds. I describe these two items more from recent observation than from memory, however, for at the time, the third object held my complete attention. It was a finely crafted whistle, which radiated a necromantic magic stronger than that of the other two. My musical experience to date amounts to a reasonable proficiency with a wooden flute of my own construction. This whistle far surpassed anything I could create, and the lure of its unknown magic was irresistible. Despite the Infiltrator's urging to the contrary, I took the whistle and put it in an inner pocket of my robe. His distrust of necromancy is not surprising, and I do not fault him for it, but I must discover what this whistle can do, and, if it is safe, how it sounds.
Other than those three magical items, we discovered only a wooden chest containing six peridots in one of the sarcophagi. We took them, but I doubt that they are very valuable.
The second event of note was our discovery of another dragon fountain, this one with the inscription “let there be death.” We will have to study these fountains further when we are in less danger. Near that room was a series of small cells, some of which held large rats (the others insisted on systematically killing every one, wasting still more time), and a large cell which held an enormous, man-sized rat, and the body of the ranger we were looking for. I had little sympathy for the mutilated man at this point, for my anxiety over my journal was overwhelming.
The most memorable event before our great battle with Mother's forces occurred after a rapid fight through two rooms of kobolds. We came to a dead-end room which trapped a baby white dragon, undoubtedly the pet that the other kobolds had lost. The dragon was clearly angry about our presence. The creature fascinated me, and while the others hurried in to attack, I considered wrestling it to the ground, and trying to hold it. Perhaps we could have talked to it, or gotten some information about our enemy, but my thoughts were frivolous. I would not have been able to hold down the dragon, and more likely than not, it was too young to have any sense of its own language. Instead, I was forced to aid my companions in killing it. The dragon had collected a small pile of treasure – I know not from where, since the kobolds surely would have taken anything valuable it had when they kidnapped it. It included a few uninteresting items, in addition to a sealed scroll case, and a jade figurine of a dragon.
Barely had we collected the dragon's treasure, when the alarm sounded, beginning our second battle in the smoky room. That had indeed been where we were captured last, but the kobolds left us with little choice than to fight there a second time. The battle was a long one, and I find it difficult to remember all the details. I know that I missed quite a few times with my crossbow, and that the Empty Hand took a good deal of damage. The potions we had purchased were quickly expended (both of mine went towards healing the others), and the Infiltrator was knocked unconscious once again. Towards the end of the battle, I was struck with spears, slings and claws, until I was barely able to stand. Fortunately, the priest was able to give me a touch of healing which kept my on my feet. We felled at least a dozen kobolds, maybe more, and several were of the larger variety. Mother and the Echabracht (this is the word for the half-kobold half-dragon creature we had seen on our first trip) appeared, and while the dragon could not get to us through all of its smaller relatives, Mother was able to reach us with magic. Her understanding of the arcane did not impress me. Her first two enchantments failed entirely, while the third only frightened the halfling, who was about to retreat anyway. She should have known not to use a fear spell when she had the upper hand, but perhaps, after seeing us kill so many of the others, she was nervous enough to act without thinking.
The kobolds had the upper hand, and we hurried out of the smoke filled room, hindered by the limp body of the Infiltrator who had fallen earlier. I summoned a magical dog who held our enemies long enough for us to gain the lead, and we ran full out after that. When necessary, I stopped and guarded the Tracker with my crossbow, so he could safely carry the Infiltrator to the next room. His strength and stamina astound me at times. If I were in his position, I surely would have long since dropped my ally and allowed us both to be captured.
Before we were out of the tower, the kobolds stopped chasing us, perhaps afraid of the noontime sunlight, but we soon realized that they had not wholly given up. We reached the rope panting, and the priest, followed by the Empty Hand and the halfling, climbed up the rope. The halfling was thirty feet up when we heard the flapping of wings far below us. Not wanting to risk breaking the rope, I waited at the bottom with the Tracker and the unconscious Infiltrator, aiming my crossbow straight down, and waiting for a glint of reflected sunlight to flash off the dragon's wings. The cloudy sky above made that difficult, and for a time, all I could do was wait. The Tracker, meanwhile, strapped the Infiltrator to his back.
Finally, the steel-laden priest (he had retrieved his heavy armor, mace and shield in an early battle) reached the top of the rope, and the Tracker urged me on. I declined, insisting that he go first, since he would not be able to defend himself with such a heavy load on his back, especially while climbing. And, I added in a moment of selflessness, it was better to lose one man than two. I have been trained for twelve years to believe that our mission must be considered before anything else. Although we have been told that eight would be needed, eight may not survive, and I would rather seven of us can stand to fight our enemy than six.
Later, in his feverish state, the Infiltrator ranted about my foolishness in lingering on the platform for so long. Perhaps he was right, but I had to defend the Tracker for as long as possible, and, slowed as he was, I could wait and still catch up when I had to. The dragon came into sight, spiraling straight up from the depths of the chasm, and I fired a crossbow bolt at him, striking his hide but not slowing him in the slightest. Before I could load another bolt, we were almost face to face, and it was time to climb.
I have never before climbed so quickly and so intensely as in those seconds. I was nearly thirty feet from the platform when the dragon caught up. He passed within inches of my ear and said “an example must be made,” in his dialect of the draconic tongue. In the next cycle of his spiraling flight, he swiped at the rope, attempting to sever it and send me to my death. I was frightened almost to paralysis when he made his pass, and I instinctively held tighter to the rope, not realizing at the time how foolish that was. It was my great fortune that his path did not bring him close enough to send me crashing to the ledge below.
Knowing that such a chance event could not happen twice, I looked for good places where I could cling to the rock, and noticed, for the first time, that it was covered in handholds and footholds chipped out for the creatures we'd been fighting. Ready to grab the rock the moment it became necessary, I climbed as fast as I could.
Having failed once, the dragon was no longer interested in such subtlety as severing the rope. His next attack was aimed directly at me. I can only be thankful that I was so close to a wall, and that my attacker was flying. Unable to approach me with any level of caution, he swung by, trying to swipe at me with his claws in passing. I clung to the rock and pressed myself up close, and felt a rush of air as the dragon nearly struck me with its wing. I heard the tumbling of gravel and was sure I would fall, but I managed to hold on. I am told he scraped his wing against the rock, barely missing me and sending him tumbling back.
All this while, crossbow bolts, sling stones and even a javelin or two were falling down the chasm about me, as the others tried to stop the dragon before he could kill me. For this, and for what happened next, I will be forever grateful to the others. Having survived the dragon's second attack and resumed my climb, I suddenly felt a jolt that nearly shook me from the rope. One of the others had grabbed on and was pulling me up. Soon, everyone was pulling the rope, and I rapidly ascended, while adding the speed of my own climb. The rope swung wildly, throwing me into the rock over and over again, but that did not concern me at the time. All I wanted to do was reach the top, and get away from the dragon.
Finally I was pulled high enough, and I grabbed onto the edge of the chasm, and was helped up by the others. Regaining some of my poise and confidence, I hurriedly took a position on the edge with the others, no two of us closer than ten feet from any of the others. Soon, the dragon reached the top, and exhaled a powerful flame in the direction of the halfling. The halfling's response was too quick for me to understand what he did, but somehow, he managed to evade the flames. After his attack, the dragon dipped back down into the chasm.
At that point, the odds were in our favor. We continued to fire at the dragon, until the Tracker hit him in a vulnerable spot with a sling stone, and the dragon was sent out of control, tumbling into the chasm. The Tracker, his senses keener than the rest of ours, heard the dragon hit the bottom. He threw a burning torch down, and after some anxious seconds, we all saw the monster's crushed body at the bottom. The battle over, I collapsed in exhaustion.
We are resting now at the top of the chasm. There was argument about that, as some, particularly the Empty Hand, preferred to return to town, but we eventually agreed. The priest advised against leaving with the Infiltrator in such poor condition, and the Tracker argued that if we returned to the town now, we would be returning in shame. My argument was one of basic strategy. If we left, we would not be able to watch this chasm, and we would not know what entered and what left. More importantly, if we returned to town, we would be two days delayed, and the kobolds could have time to reinforce their numbers.
I am surprised that I was able to write this much. The sun is setting, and I must sleep. I can barely hold this pen in my cramped hand, and, looking back, I see more than one place where the ink ran low and I forgot to dip the pen. No matter, I will fill in the missing words tomorrow. For now, I will sleep.