Wulf Ratbane
Adventurer
FORGE OF FURY (Epilogue)
The party retired to the surface caves for a day to rest and recuperate in the soothing company of mules. Despite the fact that the female drow had escaped, there was little concern that the dragon's hoard was in any danger of disappearing along with her. The next day, secure in the feeling that they'd purged the caves of all resistance, they unburdened their packs and pockets, and made their way down to the small underground lake where Nightscale had made her lair. It was a small hoard, but there was a fair amount of gold, some small magical trinkets, and a fine dwarven war-axe. Durgeddin's mark, and according to Keldas, a fair amount of magic laid upon the blade. Wulf quietly laid claim to this and slipped it into his pack.
They returned to town to enjoy at last the fruits of their hard work. With Keldas' help, Wulf and Halma were soon outfitted with magical chain shirts, and Halma's greatsword, his most prized personal possession, was given a bit of a magical boost as well. Wulf spent time in the local smithy crafting some masterwork daggers for himself and, yes, even the halfling. It was nice to return to town with, not just two coppers to rub together, but enough loot to spread around and feel important for a change.
At last, while Halma rested up outside the town, Keldas studied his spellbooks, and the halfling was off on his eternal quest for a street-side poison vendor, Wulf paid a visit to the old man.
"Wanted yer to have this." Wulf laid a cloth-wrapped bundle across the old man's lap. The old man carefully unwrapped it and stared down with admiration: Durgeddin's dwarven war-axe. The old man didn't need to detect magic to see that it was a fine piece of workmanship; in his long forgotten past as an adventurer, he'd seen finer-- but not often. Certainly Wulf had never seen better-- and likely never would again.
"But... You earned this. You don't think it would be better off with a strong arm to wield it?"
"Hmph. Take this too..." Wulf handed him a stack of papers and books bound with a string-- diaries he had recovered from the forges, the woeful tale of Durgeddin's fall. He waved aside the old man's protests. "I got no use for all this tackle."
The old man sat quietly, waiting for Wulf to speak his mind.
"Yer going back up there, right? Clean the place out once and for all?"
"Yes. Diessa and I will head back there eventually. We may even need some help... eventually."
"Hmph. Well, just so yer know, there's still a she-bitch demon trapped up there. Take summat to deal with her if yer decide to go back."
"I will..." He paused for a moment, then raised one eyebrow and grinned. "They say around town say you defeated a dragon. Did you bring back the hide?"
Wulf grinned. "Aye, just a little bugger, though. Not much to it. Wanted to ask yer about that... was hoping... ahh... yer might help me with a little project..."
The old man wrapped up the axe and the diaries. "Let's talk in my workshop."
The party retired to the surface caves for a day to rest and recuperate in the soothing company of mules. Despite the fact that the female drow had escaped, there was little concern that the dragon's hoard was in any danger of disappearing along with her. The next day, secure in the feeling that they'd purged the caves of all resistance, they unburdened their packs and pockets, and made their way down to the small underground lake where Nightscale had made her lair. It was a small hoard, but there was a fair amount of gold, some small magical trinkets, and a fine dwarven war-axe. Durgeddin's mark, and according to Keldas, a fair amount of magic laid upon the blade. Wulf quietly laid claim to this and slipped it into his pack.
They returned to town to enjoy at last the fruits of their hard work. With Keldas' help, Wulf and Halma were soon outfitted with magical chain shirts, and Halma's greatsword, his most prized personal possession, was given a bit of a magical boost as well. Wulf spent time in the local smithy crafting some masterwork daggers for himself and, yes, even the halfling. It was nice to return to town with, not just two coppers to rub together, but enough loot to spread around and feel important for a change.
At last, while Halma rested up outside the town, Keldas studied his spellbooks, and the halfling was off on his eternal quest for a street-side poison vendor, Wulf paid a visit to the old man.
"Wanted yer to have this." Wulf laid a cloth-wrapped bundle across the old man's lap. The old man carefully unwrapped it and stared down with admiration: Durgeddin's dwarven war-axe. The old man didn't need to detect magic to see that it was a fine piece of workmanship; in his long forgotten past as an adventurer, he'd seen finer-- but not often. Certainly Wulf had never seen better-- and likely never would again.
"But... You earned this. You don't think it would be better off with a strong arm to wield it?"
"Hmph. Take this too..." Wulf handed him a stack of papers and books bound with a string-- diaries he had recovered from the forges, the woeful tale of Durgeddin's fall. He waved aside the old man's protests. "I got no use for all this tackle."
The old man sat quietly, waiting for Wulf to speak his mind.
"Yer going back up there, right? Clean the place out once and for all?"
"Yes. Diessa and I will head back there eventually. We may even need some help... eventually."
"Hmph. Well, just so yer know, there's still a she-bitch demon trapped up there. Take summat to deal with her if yer decide to go back."
"I will..." He paused for a moment, then raised one eyebrow and grinned. "They say around town say you defeated a dragon. Did you bring back the hide?"
Wulf grinned. "Aye, just a little bugger, though. Not much to it. Wanted to ask yer about that... was hoping... ahh... yer might help me with a little project..."
The old man wrapped up the axe and the diaries. "Let's talk in my workshop."
Last edited: