D&D Adventures: Kobold, and Cultists, and Dragons. Oh my!

At first Ares didn't believe his ears. A moment later he couldn't believe his eyes. The moment after that he was sure he was going crazy. The trembling from the earth and shrieking roar from the sky seemed so real. It was real. At first, the dragon appeared to be far off, its cry just barely audible; a fearful, but distant foe. In no time, the creature had covered over ten leagues and flown right overhead, its deafening cry causing the very air to shake. Overhead, the dragon sputtered, flames shooting from its nostrils. The top canvas of the stadium burst into flames. Then as quickly as it appeared, the dragon vanished off into the north.

The stadium was silent. No one moved, no one spoke. For a while, the only sound in the entire stadium was a child crying. Silent moments that felt like eons crept by. It was so quiet, that for a moment, Ares forgot there were thousands of spectators and twenty-five contestants filling the enormous structure. Flames on the canvas shades crackled high above his head. He sucked his breath through his teeth. The crowd erupted in screaming panic. Spectators rushed from the stadium. The announcer's raspy voice was completely drowned out, but he was pointing at Ares and the other contenders. The mayor was with him flailing his arms toward the previous underground staging area where the contestants had sat before they'd risked their lives for what now seemed like pointless entertainment. Ares guessed at what they meant.

He shouted, "This way! Back to the staging area!" He began trying to corral the other contestants back toward the safety of the chamber. He saw the bald monk from the contest heading that way already, a strange calmness on his face. Next to him, staring in the direction the dragon was headed, stood a long-haired, scrawny half-elf, his dark eyes showing the faintest hint of terror, but masked well behind a look of utter fascination. Ares grabbed his shoulder and pushed him toward the entry to the staging area.

"Hurry, to the staging area!"

The half-elf looked at him, then turned and hurried off toward the rest of the crowd. The stadium was nearly empty already. The rest of the spectators were crowded around the exits pushing their way out of the building. Above him, the flames still burned bright as ever on the canvas shades hung from ropes above the seats. He watched as one of the ropes holding the canvas up burned through, the corner of the enormous shade falling slack, almost hitting the ground. It still burned bright. Ares turned and headed into the staging area. The clank of his heavy armor ringing in his ears as he ran.

The Quest

After sitting anxiously in the staging area for over an hour, Ares was considering just walking out, no matter what the scribe at the door said. He had fetched his pack from the chest and made sure all of his possessions were there. He had his armor, of course, as well as his purse, his store of food, and his samples of salt. He'd checked to make sure none of the samples were cracked when he'd retrieved his pack, but he checked them again just to make sure. He needed those vials.

"Attention! Presenting the honorable Mayor Gale," the scribe shouted, his voice barely heard over the chatter in the room. The mayor stood in the doorway, the room becoming gradually quieter as people shushed each other.

"It seems we've found a dragon in our company," the Mayor said with a strangely unworried tone. He seemed calm and in control.

"The dragon has flown to the north, towards our sister town of Greenest," he said, a worried look on his face. "I have decided to send anyone willing to aid Greenest in their struggle against this beast." The room went silent. There was an awkward tension in the air. Who would willingly seek out that creature? was the likely attitude, Ares thought. He wasn't afraid of the creature naturally, just appropriately respectful, but he did admit that it sounded like a fool's errand.

"I admit," the mayor continued, "that we have heard tales from other towns, on our borders, of dragon sightings. They are all followed by whisperings of a cult raiding and pillaging the very town attacked by the dragon just after the great beast vanishes." He wiped his head with his sleeve. His sleeve was sopping wet, and Ares guessed it wasn't from the heat.

"Greenest has helped us in the past, and we are to repay the favor. You all are the finest gathering of heroes and champions from all over the western reach." He paused. It seemed like he was hoping for someone to volunteer. No one did.

"Anyone willing to aid us will be compensated," he blurted.

Ares looked around, few were considering thethe opportunity and even less were enthusiastic about the whole thing. Seek out a dragon? Stop a band of plundering cultists? It seemed mad.

"I will go," the bald monk said. The crowd started muttering.

"As will I," the scrawny half-elf added. A few others added in their confirmations as well. Ares thought about it. It would be the right thing to do, and he was going to Greenest next anyway. His original plan had been to sew the seeds of a business deal between the town's merchants and his family's salt company. He decided it would be best if he just happened to be there already before his business dealings begun. He could work on getting the merchants invested and clear the town of monsters at the same time.

"I'll go too," he said finally. The mayor's face had relaxed somewhat. He'd stopped sweating too. This was probably going over a lot smoother than he'd anticipated.

"Excellent," he said with a grin, "we leave at dawn. Meet by the city gates." And with that, it was over. The rest of the contestants shuffled off toward the inn. Ares went with them. T

As the group walked to the inn where they'd be staying, two of the contestants, the bald monk and the half-elf were taking to each other. They were angry, by the looks of it. It seemed they weren't happy with the mayor's plan. Mister Señor monk stormed over to Ares.

"We're heading out tonight," he said. "We can't wait till morning. People are dying right now." The half-elf nodded, but said nothing. "Come with us."

Ares didn't like these two and their plan. He thought it best to wait till the morning and approach the town in force. They apparently didn't share his feelings. He told them that he would go in the morning with the group, no matter what they said. When they realized they were getting nowhere convincing him, they turned and walked away. Ares did the same, turning back to the inn to eat and rest up. Tomorrow would be a big day.

---

It was late when Ares heard a knock on his door. When he opened it he was surprised to see that monk and the half-elf from before, a look of mild irritation on their faces. They asked if they could stay the night, muttering something about an angry stable master and some stolen horses. Ares didn't know what to do, so he let them in. They each took a place in the room and went to sleep. Ares couldn't help but think, in his last waking moments, that this would be a fitting start to this journey for him.

---

In the morning at the town gate, the mayor wished everyone good luck. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't coming with them. Ares had always noticed that the successful ones tended to stay behind, away from the fighting.

The caravan of carts and supplies and men would take over 4 hours in total, so Ares got comfortable in his chair. Beside him were his new "friends" Señor monk and the the brooding half-elf. Across from him sat a pale man, apparently nervous because he kept rocking back and forth in his seat rubbing his hands. After a long silence, he spoke.

"This cult, you ever heard of it?" Ares shook his head. "I heard that my cousin heard that this monk tried to figure 'em out, you know? Infiltrate 'em." Señor monk sat bolt upright. He stood, grabbing the shaking man by his shirt and hoisting him into the air above the cart.

"What?" The bald man said anxiously. "What was his name?"

The shaking man's eye twitched, "Leosin." Señor monk's expression darkened. He said no more, and fell back into his chair.

After a long silence, no one daring to speak to each other, fearing they'd be seen as too friendly and human, Ares thought, This is going to be a long trip.

Arrival in Greenest

The town was a burning disaster. Ares could hear the townsfolk screaming for help, for water, for food, and for the guards. Ares guessed that the guards were somewhat busy at the moment, and couldn't come to the aid of the poor man in the square who was limping badly. At the gate to the town, the leader of their little rescue mission divided up the rescue party and gave each of them a task.

"We are to clear the streets and meet at the keep in the center of the town. The main body of the townsfolk are there and currently under assault from the cultists and their Kobald minions." He looked each man in the eyes, "Get there and quickly, you have your tasks. Go!"

Ares looked over at the two other members of his new squad. Who else but Señor monk and shorty brooding-ton? Together they passed through the town's gate, or what remained of it, and headed in the direction of the keep. Their instructions: to clear a path.

Once inside the town, the damage looked even worse. There didn't seem to be a single building that wasn't burning in some form or another. The air was hot, and full of acrid smoke. About a block in front of him Ares could see a limping man hurrying his three children across the street. He was moving fast, almost as if he was running from something. At that moment, a woman appeared, her clothes smudged and tattered, a shield in one hand and a broken spear in the other. She ran to the man and his children before turning back and staring of to where she'd come. A moment later, eight Kobolds emerged from the smoke and formed a half-circle around the armed woman. Almost completely outmatched, she didn't back down an inch. Instead, she looked even more fierce and ready to fight. Ares saw her take one last glance over her shoulder toward what Ares could only assume was her husband and children running off without her.

It happened almost without a thought. Ares rushed toward the band of Kobolds, his morning star already in his hand. Next to him, Señor monk, who'd apparently had the same idea, ran with his quarterstaff at the ready. Ares glanced back to see the brooding half-elf standing motionless, a serious look of concentration on his sharp face. Ares forced himself to look ahead and smashed his weapon into the side of the first Kobold he encountered. At the same instant, Señor monk smashed the one to his right with his staff. The snap of the staff on the Kobold's skull almost made Ares cringe. The next instant the Kobold to his left shrieked in pain as his back burst into flames.

Ares lunged at the next Kobold in time to see Señor monk do the same. He looked back, but his brooding friend was gone. On the other side of the pack of creatures, another Kobold burst into flames, dying the next instant. The fighting went on. Ares took some hits to his armor, but he dealt far more damage to his opponents. Señor monk, on the other hand, seemed to effortlessly pass between blows, never taking hits directly. His attacks were as fierce as his own were strong.

The fight ended as the last Kobold dropped. It's smoldering corpse set alight by a most unnatural of fires. Behind him, the half-elf stood, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He crossed the entire square in an instant. That's a useful talent. He approached the mage, "Ares is my name, I don't tmihink I caught yours." The half-elf looked at him. A hard look, one of determination with just the slightest hint of fear behind it.

"Brom." He said nothing more. Talkative, Ares thought.

With the path cleared they headed toward the keep. The woman who'd been under attack ran off toward her family the moment the fighting stopped.

When they got to the keep, they found the rest of their caravan already waiting, the Governor of Greenest was mid-speech.

"From what we can tell," he said, "this cult and it's Kobold minions are only interested in plunder, specifically gold. They do not care for much else. That is why they are interested in this place. Here is our town's stores of wealth, we mush protect it." He looked around at the group of warriors and townsfolk. "There are four main posts that need defending: the sallyport, the tunnels below the keep, the town's mill, and the sanctuary."

Ares looked at his two companions and they at him. They agreed almost instantly. "We will secure the tunnels," Ares said aloud.

"Excellent," the governor responded. "Go at once. The entrance is behind that barrel barricade. Clear them out!" With that, the group dismantled the flimsy barricade of empty barrels, and entered the tunnels via a dark, almost concealed doorway.

Into the Tunnels

The smell was worse than Ares would have thought. It was rank in these tunnels. The governor hadn't called them sewers, but Ares knew that's what they were. It was dark down in the tunnels as well. No torches burned on the walls here. From behind him Ares saw a light spread out along the staff that Brom carried. It enveloped the staff, shedding its light on the walls of the dank tunnels.

Not far into their little adventure in the murk and grime of humanity, Brom's magelight illuminated a pack of rats in the distance. As they approached the pack, strangely they didn't back down. Brom stepped past Ares and Señor monk.

"I'll handle this," he said. He stood, not 10 feet from this pack of suspiciously brave sewer rats. Suddenly, the ground began to shake. The tremors were small, but their effect was scarcely so. The whole tunnel seemed to sway, but the rats did not budge. The tremors stopped, and Brom turned towards him, a baffled look on his face.

"Ok then," he said, "there's always this." A sound like his, only deeper rang through the cavern. The ground began to shake again this time slightly more aggressive. Brom spoke, but it was not his voice that rang in the darkness, but the roar of a dragon. Ares couldn't believe his ears. This was a trick he'd not seen before, and he was familiar with the common tricks of wizards. Some of the rats turned an ran in fear, but most stayed. Brom looked around baffled at the sheer notion of rats with guts enough to not fear a dragon's roar. Señor monk was apparently tired of Brom's little tricks and took to beating the rest of the rats with his staff. Ares followed suit with his morning star. Brom just stood there, a look of slight insult on his face, as if the rats by not fleeing insulted him.

They continued down the pathway along the sewer Brom's staff once again for light. Out of sight of the magelight they heard the clamoring of warriors in a hurry. The magelight dimmed and Brom handed Ares a small stone, glowing with the cold light that once covered the mage's staff.

"Throw it behind them," Brom said. Ares nodded. Señor monk readied his staff as three figures came into view. They paused, for a moment both parties glared at each other unmoving, then they charged at each other. In front a huge fire drake, its claws making scrapes in the stone walls of the cavern. Behind him, and just barely visible were two figures in hooded robes. No doubt in Ares' mind that those were some of the cultists that the governor of Greenest mentioned.

Ares and Brom were suck single file behind Señor monk in the tight tunnel just as the cultists were stuck behind their drake. For what seemed like forever, the drake and Señor monk duked it out, the monk sustaining heavy damage. Ares yelled to Señor monk and the bald man flattened himself along the wall. With a clear shot, Ares let a breath out of his lungs. Using a power long underused, the breath cooled to the point of freezing in his throat. By the time it escaped his lips, his breath was a torrent of freezing mist. It struck the drake and his companions. The drake dropped and the cultists clamored over his body toward Ares and his party. One of them burst into flames and the other took a swift strike to the chest, knocking him over. The party gathered its breath for a moment.

With one group of cultists and a drake down and out, the party needed to decide what their next move would be. Should they go back and tell the governor what they saw and claim the tunnels as defended, or should they solider on, deeper into the tunnels? They looked at each other for a long while. It was silent in the tunnels now, with only the trickling of foul water breaking the otherwise complete silence. What to do now?