THE HUNT BEGINS
The tower proved to be a dead end. It was really nothing more than a fortified garrison. Why the dragons had expended such effort on it was unclear. Perhaps they, like the League members, had assumed that any place so heavily guarded must contain something of value. A clever ruse on the giants' part, perhaps. In the end, the company returned to the undercity, thinking that perhaps some of the slaves might be anxious to throw off the yoke of their cruel masters and provide information in exchange for their freedom.
The first several buildings they explored appeared hastily abandoned, as if their former occupants had simply dropped what they had been doing and bolted. Finally, in one particularly run-down tenement, they came upon a family of bugbears cowering in a small bedchamber.
“We mean you no harm,” Faust said, standing in the doorway with his palms up to show they were empty. “Whom do you call master?”
For a moment they said nothing, but then the largest, a male, spoke in rough Common, “Gorgecrawlers.”
Faust nodded. “And who is their leader?”
The bugbear continued to stare at the psion, defiance in his eyes, but hiding a deeper terror. “Charlgar,” he said flatly.
“Last question,” Faust said in a soothing voice. “Where might we find Charlgar and the Gorgecrawlers?”
The bugbear looked suspicious, as if Faust were asking something he should already know. “Gorgecrawler House…north wall,” he said, huddling closer to his family, as if afraid that his words might be the death of him. Instead, Faust smiled.
“Thank you. You have been of great service to us. If you wish to, you may leave the city. The giants are…occupied. You should be able to get out without being seen.” He then turned to leave, motioning his friends to follow. Behind him, the bugbears continued to stare, unmoving. The madman and his lies only made a bad situation worse.
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The so-called House of the Gorgecrawlers turned out to be a rather shabby structure with crude fortifications made of rubble and discarded garbage. All of the entrances and windows were boarded up. Hawk motioned for the others to hold position, and he cautiously made his way towards the main door. Using his shield, he hammered on the barricade several times.
“We come for parley!” He shouted. “We propose an alliance between ourselves and Charlgar of the Gorgecrawlers against the hordes of Dragotha. Will you hear us?”
Silence. Then, from somewhere on the second level came a giant’s voice.
“Charlgar dead! Go away!”
“How did he die?” Hawk called up. “Who leads in his absence?”
“Fire dragon kill!” The disembodied voice replied. “I leader of Gorgecrawlers now, and I say Gorgecrawlers stay put!”
“If you won’t join us, then at least tell us where we can find the phylactery…the item the dragons are searching for!”
“Not know what…filacktree is…” the giant said uncertainly.
“What about the Gorgelords?” Hawk asked. “Would they know? Why do you stand against them?” The civilar thought he heard spitting and a loud curse.
“Charlgar lead us to overthrow king,” the giant said, “but Gorgelords tricky. Know about attack. Gorgecrawlers forced into undercity…until dragons come. Now all giants be dragon food! We stay here!”
“What of the Tiamikal Nul-Shada?” Hawk asked again. “Where do they stand in your coup? Where are they now that the dragons have attacked?”
“Kagro Thundersmiter and his oh-so-proud warriors not leave Citadel of Weeping Dragons,” the giant said, sarcasm in his voice. “We all die while they stand watch!”
Hawk turned back to his allies. “I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere here. This group seems defeated and resigned to their fate. I suggest we go to the Gorgelords or the Tiamikal Nul-Shada.”
“The palace and the citadel are not far from each other,” Faust said, recalling what he’d seen from the top of the rift. “Why don’t we try the palace first? The king might listen to reason. These ‘Slayers of Tiamat’s Children’ seem a bit fanatical to me.”
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Faust locked hands with the others, and in the speed of a thought, he transported his team through the astral plane to emerge on the front steps of the palace. This part of the city had suffered heavy damage. Bodies of giants littered the ground alongside a few dragon corpses. The entire area was split into terraces and ten-foot deep fighting trenches. Guy lines hung thick in the air between the buildings. The façade of the palace itself was heavily damaged, and its great doors were sealed tight. Once again, Hawk approached the entryway and called out his plea for truce. This time he remained unanswered.
“Faust, can you get us inside?” He asked the psion as he returned to the group.
“You mean the way I got us inside the guard tower?” Faust asked, smiling.
“I was thinking of something a bit more subtle,” Hawk replied. “We want to look like potential allies, not brigands.”
Once more, the psion gathered the others around him in preparation to Dimension Door, this time transporting them only ten feet…from outside the palace doors to a point just on the inside. The entry hall beyond was intact, and well decorated, if one was a giant. Halls and stairwells branched off from multiple exits, but there was not a soul in sight. The torches along the walls were unlit. The League began making their way through the large, empty halls and chambers of the main level of the palace. Everywhere they went, there was the appearance of a hasty departure. All doors stood open, and rooms were in disarray. Yet they still found no sign of life. The upper levels proved equally abandoned. Outside the palace, night fell on Kongen-Thulnir, and the sound of battle retreated. Their search having proved fruitless, the League members decided to make their camp in the relative safety of the castle. Finding an out of the way servants’ chamber, Faust erected a psychoportive shelter…an extra dimensional space where the company could rest undetected, with a door invisible from the outside, but allowing the occupants within to see through.
Deep in the watches of the night Hawk paced restlessly about the dimensional bubble. Suddenly, guttural voices and the clink of mail brought his attention to the room beyond their shelter. There, a fire giant and a hill giant had entered, and seemed to be actively searching for something. The hill giant was dressed differently from the ones they had encountered at the tower, wearing breastplate and carrying a heavy shield and warhammer. Quickly, the civilar woke the others.
“What do we do?” Grubber asked as the giants continued to tear apart the room.
“We came here to sue for peace,” Hawk replied. “This is our chance.” On the civilar’s word, Faust dismissed the shelter, leaving himself and his comrades abruptly revealed to the two surprised giants. Hawk quickly held up his empty hands as the giants reached for their weapons, and he began to speak rapidly.
“Please, we are not here to fight. We seek the king to plead our case.” The hill giant, who seemed to have authority over the fire giant, kept his hand on the haft of his weapon, but did not draw it. Instead, he called out in his native tongue over his shoulder. In a matter of moments, the chamber filled with giants…three more hill giants clad as the first, plus six wearing more mundane, hide armor. There were also three more fire giants, and one particularly large hill giant wearing banded mail and carrying a great axe. It was this one who spoke next. His voice was still as rough as his brethren, but was a bit more cultured.
“Who are you? Where do you come from?”
“I am Hawk Veritas, Senior Civilar of the Waterdeep Guard, and spokesman for the League. We have come here seeking a means to destroy the undead dragon Dragotha.”
“Who is this Dragotha that you speak of?” The hill giant snapped.
“He is the one who has sent these dragons against you.” Hawk replied. “They are seeking the same thing we are…Dragotha’s phylactery. It is a repository for his spirit. As long as it exists, he can never be destroyed.”
“Bah!” The giant spat. “We know nothing of this thing. How do we know you are not spies for the wyrms? We know that you slaughtered our brethren earlier this day!”
“That was an unfortunate mistake,” Hawk sighed. “We were trying to approach them and reason with them as we are with you, but they would not hear us. They left us no choice. Tell me, if you do not know of the phylactery, what of the king or the Tiamikal Nul-Shada?”
“The king is old and feeble,” the hill giant said tersely, “and we do not speak for the Tiamikal Nul-Shada. They are the sworn defenders of the Citadel of Weeping Dragons.”
“Can we not meet with the king?” Hawk asked. “If he is ill, perhaps we can offer assistance.”
“We are at war!” The hill giant roared. “The king cannot be bothered with such things, and we have no need of your assistance.”
“I see,” Hawk said, hanging his head. “If you will not aid us, will you at least agree not to hinder us in our quest? We truly mean your people no harm.”
“Our lines of communication are broken,” the hill giant replied. “We are cut off from our troops. You are on your own.”
“As you say,” Hawk nodded, and then turned to Faust. “Take us out.” Faust moved to the middle of the group, and each reached out a hand to touch him. Again the psion transported them through the astral plane, arriving in one of the abandoned tenements in the undercity. There, he erected another shelter, and the team waited out the night.
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“The Citadel would seem to be the next logical option,” Faust explained. “What is it that the Tiamikal Nul-Shada are guarding so closely?”
“I agree,” Hawk replied, “but I don’t want to leave any avenue unexplored. Giovanni, I want you and Grubber to remain behind. Look around the undercity, and perhaps the ruins above. See if there is anything that we missed. Come to us if you find anything. Don’t investigate on your own. If we have any luck reasoning with the giants, Faust will come for you. If you haven’t heard from us within the hour, assume the worst and do what you think best.” The warlock and priest agreed, and Faust locked hands with Hawk, Storm and Mak. In the blink of an eye, they vanished.
A stone bridge from the city proper lead to a ledge that wrapped around the southern edge of the pinnacle of stone upon which sat the Citadel of Weeping Dragons. It was at the head of this bridge that the League appeared. A battlement overlooked the bridgehead, and behind it loomed the bulk of the rocky promontory and the fortress above. Two startled fire giants stood before a pair of stone double doors, each twenty feet high. Both giants wore full plate armor, and carried greatswords strapped to their backs. Large, composite longbows were clutched in their hands, and despite their surprise, they were already knocking arrows, and shouting out a warning. Hawk rushed forward, his sword sheathed, and began to speak.
“We were told by the Gorgelords to come to you!” he shouted. “We seek a truce, and wish to speak with your leader, Kagro Thundersmiter. We are the enemy of your enemy. We seek to see every dragon in Kongen-Thulnir destroyed!” The giants kept their arrows knocked, but did not draw back their bows. Slowly, they lowered their weapons.
“Hawk watch out!” Storm suddenly screamed, her gaze looking towards the sky. The giants quickly stepped back, their eyes following Storm’s, as did those of her companions, yet none of them could see what the sorceress saw with her magically enhanced vision. None of them saw the three invisible blue dragons descending rapidly from the bluffs above.
The lead dragon spat a small bead of fire from its mouth as it came, and abruptly the entire area below was engulfed in an explosive ball of fire. Immediately on the heels of this attack, the still invisible dragon, Vermirox by name, unleashed the fury of his breath upon the League. A cone of electricity enveloped the entire group. Storm dove nimbly to one side, while Faust relied on his mental defenses to protect him from the energy blast. Hawk and Mak were not so lucky. The civilar managed to deflect some of the barrage with his shield, but the goliath took the full brunt of the attack. As he jittered and shivered from the jolt, his skin began to scorch, and most of his clothing, magical and mundane, as well as his rings and headgear erupted into flames, or simply melted into slag. As the storm passed, the smoking giant sank to his knees.
As Storm rolled to her feet, she hurled her own fireball up at the hovering wyrm. The resulting explosion covered the dragon’s head, but when the fire cleared, only minor singe marks indicated that the beast had even felt the blast. Not so Faust’s attack. Using his Touchsight, the psion could now clearly see the dragon, and in doing so, he manifested a raging inferno of fire that enveloped Vermirox from head to tail. The mighty blue dragon had never felt such heat and pain, and he roared in anguish.
Mak struggled to control his own pain. Focusing through the agony, he called upon Helm’s power to heal his wounds. However, just as he struggled to his feet, Vermirox’s minions attacked. The pair of blue dragons became visible immediately upon breathing forth bolts of electricity at both the goliath and Hawk.
Finally, the giants could see their assailants. One of them called up to a nearby rampart, where a third giant stood manning a ballista. All three of them pulled large flasks from their belts and began dousing their weapons with the oil contained within. Storm immediately saw the glow of magic begin to shine from the bows and ballista.
Several things happened at once as the battle kicked into high gear. Hawk leaped into the air, his boots sprouting small wings that carried him aloft towards the hovering dragons. Simultaneously, Storm tossed a second ball of energy at Vermirox, this one exploding with pure concussive force. The blue dragon knew that the two spell-casters were his greatest threat, and he called out in his alien language for his underlings to focus on the pair. For his part, he sent a thin, blue beam from one claw streaking at Faust. As it struck, the psion felt all of his strength leave him, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to even support his own body weight. Faust knew exactly what had befallen him, but he was helpless to do anything about it. Fortunately, he did not need to use his hands or speak words to kill. His mind was still fully functional. A ray of fire lanced out from the center of his brow to strike the blue dragon. Then Faust did something truly amazing. Concentrating, he peered a few moments into the future, enabling him to anticipate Vermirox’s next move. In so doing, he was able to strike preemptively, bombing the wyrm with a second ball of volcanic fire. They didn’t call him Holocaust for nothing.
“Kill him!!” Vermirox roared, but that was the last command the old wyrm would give. His wounds were grievous, and he dared not risk his long life. Speaking a word, he vanished. One of his underlings dove towards the helpless psion, and snatched him up in one claw. Faust could not resist. Leaping into the air again, the dragon sailed out over the rift, and unceremoniously dropped its prey into the abyss.
Meanwhile, the second dragon meant to try the same tactic with Storm. Sweeping in, it shrugged off a blow from Hawk as it passed, and seized the sorceress in its talons. All three giants opened fire on the wyrm, but their shots bounced harmlessly off of its scales.
Hawk dove towards the dragon, his blade glowing with brilliant fire. His stroke tore deep into the flesh of the brute, but it still did not relinquish its hold on the drow. Storm, however, was not without resources of her own. Concentrating, she spoke a single arcane word, and whisked herself into the astral, willing herself to reappear behind the great doors of the citadel. She found herself in a hallway which ran straight to another set of stone doors. It was otherwise bare, and devoid of giants. She quickly began casting another spell, transforming her svelte form into that of a blocky, female fire giant. With effortless ease she lifted the heavy iron bar from the outer doors, and threw them wide, resuming her normal shape as soon as she had done so.
As the dragon stared at its empty paw, Mak hefted his sword and brought it down on the its other foreleg. The wyrm snatched its injured limb back, rearing on its back legs and roaring in fury. Another bolt of lightning sizzled from its throat, blasting through the goliath again. The fire giant guards knocked arrows once more, and were preparing to fire when Hawk shouted from above them…
“What kind of soldiers are you?? Are those swords just for decoration?? Drop those useless toothpicks and get your asses in there!! That’s an order!!”
With pure reflex stemming from years of military training, the guards let fall their bows, and quicker than Hawk could follow, drew their blades and charged. They separated at the last second, moving to flank the blue, and then hacking away. The dragon howled and whirled, trying to defend itself from its attackers, but as it moved, the giants moved easily with it, not allowing it to escape their pincer maneuver. As it turned to snap at its nearest foe, it found itself eye-to-eye with Hawk. With one thrust, the civilar plunged Quaero through its left eye and into its brain. Death was instant.
Just then, the second dragon returned. Soaring in low, it breathed a blast of electricity straight at Mak and one of the giant guards. Hawk was in motion a moment later, meeting the blue’s charge head-on. The dragon snapped at him as he approached, tearing a large rent in his left arm, but the paladin didn’t slow. Right on his heels were the fire giants. All three warriors struck with the force of thunderclap, causing the dragon to reel in mid-air. It tumbled to a halt at the edge of the gorge, crouching low and hissing at its foes. Its brother was dead. Its leader fled. Not so slow-witted as the greens, the blue knew when discretion was justified. With one final defiant roar, it dove into the gorge.
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Using a flight elixir, Mak found Faust lying battered, but still alive one-thousand feet below the lip of the gorge. The psion had managed to use his mental powers to absorb the brunt of his fall, but he was gravely injured nonetheless. The goliath quickly and efficiently tended his wounds, and then used a prayer of restoration to return his sapped strength. He then flew the élan back to the main gate.
“Will you now summon Kagro Thundersmiter for us?” Hawk asked the guards as his companions rejoined him.
“As you wish civilar,” one replied, bowing. “Wait here.”
Several minutes passed before the giant returned, this time with another fire giant following. The imposing figure had flowing hair and a beard of deepest crimson. He was clad in breastplate of gleaming mithral, and carried a large greataxe in one hand. Dark purple robes covered his armor, and bracelets and necklaces of dragons’ teeth adorned him.
“My guardsman tells me that I owe you my gratitude,” he said without preamble.
“A debt that can easily be repaid by granting us a simple boon,” Hawk replied.
“What would you ask of me?” Thundersmiter asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“We seek the phylactery of the dracolich Dragotha,” Hawk explained. “We have reason to believe it is secreted within your citadel, and we ask that you give us access to it.”
The giant’s visage grew dark. “The stewardship of the Citadel is our sacred trust! No outsider may enter!”
“I understand,” Hawk said calmly, “but you must understand something as well. Dragotha serves the worm-god Kyuss, who seeks to return to this world from his imprisonment. The dracolich is his greatest general. If he is defeated, Kyuss will be crippled. We must destroy the phylactery!”
Thundersmiter shook his head vigorously. “We have kept watch for over a thousand years, and the Citadel has never been breached. We will continue to keep its secrets safe.”
“Are you insane?” Faust interrupted. “Your city is under siege! It is only a matter of time before it falls, and then the dragons will turn their full fury upon you! You will all die!”
“Then we shall die with honor, defending our Trust.” With that, he turned and strode back into the citadel, the doors closing behind him. The guards took up their positions before the portals. Though their eyes bespoke their regret, their stance made it clear that they would uphold their duty unto their death.
Since Grubber has so many Buffs spells on him he has none left for Healing 
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Or he was tired of seeing me pout at the table. Yea thats Right I did I admit it and am ashamed too 
