The Dragons Bane

The ruins that were once the town of Myth Dranor lie nestled in a valley surrounded by majestic mountains, their tops high enough to be covered in snow the whole year round. The river springs from between the mountains at the eastern end of the valley, traveling almost 80 miles across the floor of the valley before rushing out the western end in a tormented torrent.

Many small streams, turned to small rivers by the spring thaw, crisscross the twenty-mile wide expanse. Their regular spacing indicative of a valley that was once a maze of fields and farms, whose irrigation channels have decayed into the streams that crisscross the valley today.

Where there were once farmhouses and buildings, nothing now remains except piles of rubble. The top of the hill in the middle of the valley is where the castle once stood, with the town centered around it. The homes and other buildings of the town have survived the ravages of time better than the farms, of which nothing remains except an occasional brick fireplace. Many of the stone walls that once formed the buildings of the town still stand, though all are crumbled and broken in one way or another.

Some of the taller two-story structures closest to the castle have fared better than others, their place on the hill having spared them from the destructive powers of the water and ice that over the years has occasionally filled the valley around the hill. While nothing of wood exists any longer, some of the floors in those buildings that were made entirely of stone still survive. These are also the only ruins where the walls have managed to still exceed the chest-height of a man.

Throughout the valley, mother nature has begun to reclaim the land with forest. Although the trees are stunted in comparison to their more southerly versions, they have begun to repopulate the valley floor, working their way inexorably down from the mountainsides toward the hill in the middle of the valley. Many of the fields are now only small clearings in the budding forest, filled with bushes and shrubs.

As spring returns to the valley, the plants and animals begin to give the valley a sense of life. The cold night air, however, filled with the dampness of the spring floods, still causes a bright white frost to cover the ground. And the many streams and small rivers still show a clear edging of ice just above their surfaces, their glittering banks almost glowing through the trees and bushes surrounding them.

The spring thaws fill the valley with an eerie mist in the morning, obscuring the floor with a thick blanket of white that makes travel difficult and dangerous. In the earlier part of the mornings the mist even extends itself over the rocks and rubble that is all that remains of the once-great castle walls at the top of the hill.

The walls and buildings that were once the Castle of Myth Dranor are now only memories. The destruction that befell the castle was so great that nothing remains except piles of rubble, and even these are so scattered that none exceed a few feet above the surrounding ground upon which they once stood. There is no known way to reach the extensive underground dungeons beneath the castle itself from them. The destruction is so thorough that even a rat would be unable to make its way through any of the old passages that once led down from the castle to the labyrinth of rooms below.

The extent of the dungeons below the castle, while never having been completely explored, is known to extend beyond the castle walls to the surrounding town. That part of the dungeon that lies close to the surface and extends beyond the hill is believed to be flooded with water. Thus the only remaining known entrances are found among the ruins of the town that reside on the hill encircling the castle.

This is where we found our entrance, nestled under the fallen remains of a stone wall that was once part of some unknown structure that for some reason led to a storage room below. It is on the north side of the hill, and seems to have remained undiscovered, or at least it has been unused for so long that it may as well be considered as undiscovered.

The concealing wall is low enough on the outskirts of the hill that the tunnel leading inward is fairly level and easy to navigate. And the entrance is high enough on the hill that the tunnel is above the water table and therefor fairly dry, even in the spring when much of the valley is a spongy morass of water soaked earth.

We guide our horses carefully through the mist-shrouded walls and crumbling piles of stone. Here, short trees and a number of different plants and bushes have taken root. We are trusting Clandistra to guide us, her Elven eyes allowing her to penetrate the mist with an ease that exceeds even that of the dwarves. This is no doubt due to the fact that her race was bred to survive in the woods, whereas nature has created the dwarves for survival in the underground world they choose to call home.

Clandistra’s sweet voice floats back to us like a song in the still air. “Should we use the same place as last year for our camp?”

Mizdar answers her in a voice made crude by the comparison. “Yes, we might as well, it worked well enough last year, let’s hope it will suffice again this year.”

Clandistra obligingly leads us through the ruins, up and over the hill to its northernmost end, all the while using her superior Elven senses to look for any signs of trouble. Eventually we reach a section of the ruins where many walls still stand. Some of the structures still retain sections of the floors above, forming a roof of sorts and giving some shelter to the floor below.

Clandistra finally calls a halt before one such structure. Most of the walls are intact, but at one corner they have crumbled to nothing, leaving a space just large enough for our small wagon to pass through. The majority of the floor above is also intact, forming a roof for the room below.

Dismounting in front of the opening, we lead our horses, the mules, and finally, the wagon into the structure. Once inside, we discover that the uneven floor has caused a pool of water almost a foot deep to form in one corner, fed by several holes in the floor above. A fist-sized hole in the wall has kept the water from rising further. A pile of last year’s hay is still piled in another corner, evidence that the structure is indeed the one the party used last year, as is the charred remains of a fire in the middle of the floor, directly under a large hole in the ceiling above.

“At least it looks just the same as it did when we left it. Well, what do you think of the place?” asks Mizdar.

“I think we can live with it. It seems to have everything we need,” answers Seldor, speaking for the rest of us.

“Good, let’s get the camp set up.”

Positioning the wagon across the opening, we intend to use it as a gate to keep the animals penned in. We unhitch the horses, giving them free reign to wander within the walls with the other animals until we can fashion a makeshift corral for them.

Seldor and Nordok immediately set to work getting a fire going. “Be careful not to use too much oil, we don’t want to smoke ourselves out,” cautions Mizdar.

“Remember last year, when Wiltos made the fire? He was in a hurry, so he used two flasks of oil to get it going,” remarks Clandistra, remembering the incident.

“Aye, an’ it ’twas two hours afore the smoke cleared ’nough fer us ta come back in,” laughs Dimlar, remembering their misfortune.

“And the black smoke could be seen from anywhere in the valley, alerting everyone and everything that we were here. I don’t think we want to do that again,” warns Mizdar.

“No, I think we can do without the smoke,” agrees Seldor.

“I think I can make a fire without creating too much smoke,” claims Nordok. “Come on, Seldor, let’s see if we can find some dry wood without attracting too much attention.”

So Nordok and Seldor, adhering to Mizdar’s warning, crawl under the wagon and begin to forage outside for some dry wood. Returning a short while later with armloads of small branches and sticks, the two manage to get the fire going, creating as little smoke as possible.

While they are working on the fire, the rest of us also have some chores to do. “We can lay some of the tents out over in this corner, it is the driest. Someone can set up the corral and the feed station for the horses. Clernon, might as well get lunch prepared, we have a full afternoon of exploring ahead of us. Since Delgar and Dimlar are our experts on camouflage, they can conceal the entrance with bushes and branches. Is everybody clear on what we must do?” asks Mizdar. A few ayes and nods of the head are his answer.

We all set to work at our assigned tasks. Clernon, assisted by Clandistra, prepares the midday meal, intending to make a lot of extra food. Since we probably won’t have cooking fires in the dungeon, today may be the last chance to use a fire for cooking and we mean to make the most of it. The two clerics intend to cook as much extra food as is practical, basically limited by whatever we can eat before it spoils.

Mintock and Mizdar choose the driest corner, where they spread out three tents before laying out our sleeping rolls on top of them. Then the two mages begin to set up the corral and the feed station. Seldor and Nordok, once they have the fire going, help the mages finish the small corral with the extra ropes and some spikes before herding the animals inside, since none of us want to find any piles on our blankets tonight.

The two dwarves, drawing upon their race’s well-known ability at camouflage, have collected many bushes and small trees, roots and all. They are replanting them in such a way that the entrance is well hidden. They have left a pathway for us to come and go by carefully moving the branches of a thick bush to one side.

But we must be careful to step on the large rocks that they have placed in a seemingly natural pattern, allowing us to come and go without leaving footprints. Our crafty companions have carefully removed the prints we made when we entered. And part of our reason for exploring the ruins this afternoon will be to lay enough tracks to confuse anyone or anything, thus helping to ensure the safety of our mounts and extra provisions.

Once we have finished setting up our little camp, we all sit down together for our midday meal while we discuss our plans for the remainder of the afternoon.

“After we finish eating, I want to know what, if anything, is out there. We don’t want to come out of the dungeon and find our horses dead or missing, nor do we want to find our food for the trip home gone or destroyed by some wild animals.” A few affirmatives and nods show that we all share Mizdar’s concern.

“We are going to separate into two groups, but we are going to stay within signaling distance of each other. The morning mist is gone, so we will be able to spot any movement if we can find some high lookout points. We all know the birdcalls, so I want Dimlar, Seldor, Clernon, and myself to form one group, with the rest forming the other group. We go north first, and then circle around the whole hill, my group will take the farthest route. Two trips around the hill should be enough to find anything that could prove dangerous to the horses while we are in the dungeon. After that, we will make two trips around the base of the hill, in the flatlands. Any questions?”

“Yes, I have one.”

“What is it, Seldor?”

“Shouldn’t one of us stay here to guard the camp while the rest of us are out exploring the ruins?”

“I considered that, but consider this. If the camp is attacked while we are away, then instead of just losing our horses and some gear, we will assuredly also lose whomever we leave to guard the place. Besides, we aren’t strong enough as a group that we can spare even one of us. We just don’t know what we will run into out there.”

“Agreed, I was just curious as to your reasoning.”

“That’s ok, I would rather you voice your concerns now, than say I screwed up later. Besides, I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. Sometimes I don’t consider every possibility. So if you think we should do something different, by all means, please speak up. That goes for the rest of you as well. Don’t let some misplaced notion that I know far more than you ever stop you from asking questions. Asking questions is how you learn. And sooner or later my time may come, so it is better if you know why I make the decisions I do, your lives may depend on it.” Mizdar’s words cause the rest of us to pause and consider the role he has played in our group, and what it would be like without him and his guidance.

After we have finished our midday meal, we all chip in to cleanup. As we ready ourselves for the afternoon’s exploration of the ruins, Mizdar offers some more advice. “Only put enough food in your packs for supper, bring your ropes, hammers and other tools, some spikes, and anything else you think you may need. On our way back, we will stop at the entrance to the dungeons that we used last year to make sure that it is still usable. By then, it should be time for supper. Is everyone clear on what we are doing?” Everyone nods their agreement before going to fill their backpacks with whatever they think they will need.

Having left our camp and completed our first circuit of the hill, we are just beginning the second when Mizdar’s warbler call alerts us to possible danger. Clandistra replies with her higher pitched warbler, letting him know we have heard and are coming. We quietly sneak close to where we think Mizdar and the others are, and Clandistra sends out her call again. Mizdar’s answer is close enough for Clandistra, raised in the forest like all elves, to locate the others without much trouble. Mizdar, well aware of her abilities, uses hand signals to inform her of the presence a couple of mountain lions that are some 50 yards upwind of them.

Clandistra easily spots the lions, noticing that they are feasting on the small carcass of some animal. Mizdar then signals that he wants our group to work around so that we come at them from the other side, so that our scent will be carried to them upon the light afternoon breeze. This should drive them into the trap that Mizdar and the others will have ready for them. Clandistra, using another call, lets him know that we understand and are beginning to work our way upwind of the big cats.

Mizdar quietly disperses the other three in his group, forming a crude funnel. He is hoping to force the cats through a clearing where he can use his spider web spell to entangle them long enough for Dimlar and Seldor to use their bows on the big cats. While it is improbable that two arrows will be enough to kill them, he hopes the arrows will be enough to slow them down so we can catch and kill them.

Clandistra alerts Mizdar to the fact that the mountain lions will catch their scent any moment now with another birdcall. After he acknowledges her warning, Mizdar begins his spell. Dimlar and Seldor have their bows at the ready, hoping to get a shot off as the lions run through.

The lions have caught the scent of the others and are standing up, their noses pointed upwards as they try to identify the new scent. Clandistra and her group begin yelling and banging their weapons against their shields as they charge towards the big cats, trying to drive them into the waiting group downwind.

The lions take flight, heading directly between each pair of adventurers, unaware of the trap awaiting them. Just as they draw abreast of the two bowmen, Dimlar and Seldor let loose with the first arrows and begin yelling. Dimlar’s arrow finds its mark, hitting the lead cat in the stomach and continuing through to stick in the ground. Seldor’s arrow however, misses, bouncing off a tree root and disappearing into the undergrowth.

Mizdar, waiting for the exact moment when the lions have entered the clearing, entangles both within the webs of his spell, causing them to tumble wildly before coming to rest in the middle of the clearing, covered in webs.

Seldor and Dimlar are able to shoot four more arrows into each of the trapped lions, killing the one Dimlar shot already. But the one that Seldor first missed has managed to break free and is trying to crawl away on three feet. Delgar, running up with bow in hand, stops and delivers the killing blow by neatly placing an arrow into the back of the retreating lion’s head.

Having no use for the carcasses beyond their pelts, Seldor and Nordok quickly skin the brutes while the dwarves dig a shallow grave. We don’t want the remains of the two cats attracting other predators.

Once the skins are rolled and tied up, we again separate to continue exploring the ruins. But the afternoon passes without us encountering anything more dangerous that some deer and a few rabbits. When we have finished with our second circuit of the land around the hill, we meet back up before proceeding to the entrance of the dungeon.

The entrance is located under a partially fallen wall. The cave formed by the wall should have an opening at the back that leads by way of a tunnel into one of the rooms of the dungeon. But the wall has slipped, falling much lower than it was last year. We will have to stoop almost to a crawl to get under it.

The two dwarves volunteer to see if the opening still exists. Their small stature allows them to walk, stooped down, into the opening under the rock. They immediately come back with news that the opening still exists, but that it is just big enough for a man to squeeze through, if he removes his backpack. They head back in to see if the tunnel still actually goes into the dungeon, this time proceeding with their short swords drawn in front of them.

A few minutes later we hear them returning. Luckily, we can still get into the dungeon here, but some parts of the tunnel have several tight squeezes. The rest of us familiarize ourselves with the surrounding area, we don’t want anyone to get lost in tomorrow’s predawn, which is when we are planning on entering the dungeon.

Returning to our camp without incident, we make a fire on the coals left over from the midday meal. Clernon prepares and cooks our supper, as usual. After we have eaten, Mizdar and Clandistra light two lanterns and bring them over by our bedrolls where they then proceed to break out several pieces of parchment.

On the parchments are the maps of the dungeon that they made last year. “Here is where we go in,” begins Mizdar. “And this is the route through the dungeon that we took on our first trip,” and Mizdar begins to trace a path through the rooms and hallways on the parchment with a short stick.

“Does this mean that those rooms are free of monsters?” asks Seldor.

“Not likely, on our second trip we encountered creatures that had taken up refuge in two of the rooms, and that was only two months after we had cleared them. It has been, what, eight months or more since then.”

“Now, as I was saying, this was our first route. We made it to here before turning back. We lost Wiltos to the goblins here, Midar fell to his death in the pit trap here, and Figor disappeared here when the ghost caused him to run away, never to be seen again. That was why we turned back, deciding that we weren’t strong enough to go any further. We were on our way back out when we lost Delra to some wandering death dogs in this hallway.”

The harsh reality of the brutal game of survival played in the dungeons is evident on everyone’s faces, particularly the veterans who are remembering their fallen comrades from last season.

“On our second trip, we chose this route,” continues Mizdar, tracing a path on a different copy, through mostly different rooms and hallways. The new route seemed to be aimed at exploring the dungeon closest to where the party had gone on the first trip.

“We lost Fizdan here, when he fell into a vat of acid. And in this room, a basilisk turned Tamlin to stone when she opened the door and the brute was right there looking her in the eyes. She never had a chance. Anyway, we found ourselves down to six, so we decided to spend the night in the room, it was a dead end and we figured we’d be as safe there as anywhere.”

“But it was that night that Howler showed us where his name came from. As best we can tell it was the first night of a full moon since he joined the party, the day before we left the castle. Anyway, Dimlar was standing watch with him when he started to sprout fur and fangs. He awoke the rest of us with his yelling. Howler was a werewolf. We had no choice but to kill him.”

“Once we fell below six members, it was time to make a hasty retreat from the dungeon, so we left. When we got back to town, Elgin took his share of the treasure and said he quit. He said all the money in the world wasn’t worth dying over. Dead men don’t need money. As far as we know, he went back home, where he now lives as a farmer or something. And that is where you four joined us, the rest you know. Do any of you want to back out? This is your last chance, once we enter the dungeon, we don’t turn back until there aren’t enough of us to continue, or our five days are up, since that is the longest we can stay down there before we have to start using up our emergency rations.”

And while it is clear that we really didn’t think the dungeon was going to be that deadly, none of us are willing to quit, not having come this far already.

Our first night in the ruins passes without incident. We take turns sitting in pairs under the wagon by the entrance, concealed by the camouflage set up by the dwarves. We let the fire burn itself out during the night, not intending to light another before we leave in the morning. We don’t want to risk the smoke drawing unwelcome visitors when we put it out.

The predawn shows clear skies, but the surplus of rain these last few days has caused a thick mist to hug the ground still. We break camp after a cold breakfast, loading our packs with the items we will need in the dungeon.

Our packs are heavy with food, but they will lighten as the days go by and the food gets eaten. We will not be able to bring a mule laden with extra supplies this time because of the winter’s changes in the opening that we discovered yesterday, so we make one final check of the corral we have made for the horses and mules, before heading to the dungeon.

We quietly and cautiously sneak out of the camp, careful not to disturb the camouflage. We make use of the stepping stones so as not to leave any tracks. Once we are away from camp, we make better time towards the cave.

Arriving at the cave without incident, we shed our packs. Dimlar and Delgar, followed by Seldor and Nordok, all with long swords in hand, are the first to enter the overhang and then the tunnel. The dwarves emerge into the first room to find it thankfully empty. Seldor and Nordok, crawling out behind the two, follow the dwarves to the door. Four spikes are quickly and quietly tapped into the seam around the doors with leather covered hammers, effectively jamming them closed.

Nordok then returns back through the tunnel to get everyone else, trailing a rope behind him that we will use to drag the packs through. The rest of us, having already tied the packs together in a row, quickly tie the rope brought back by Seldor to the first pack.

Three quick tugs tell the dwarves and Seldor to pull the packs through. First Clandistra, Mintock, Clernon and then Mizdar each begin the crawl to the first room. Nordok, brushing away the trail for a short ways in an effort to keep our entrance secret, is the last to crawl through the tunnel.