Robyn Graive’s journal…
Finally reached second floor of Death’s Tower and quickly disposed of kobold guard outside chamber’s entrance. Threw dagger “Triflik’s Blade” severing the dog-like creature’s throat. Perfectly placed throw, he was dead before he knew what hit him! Other kobold was more than happy to flee for his life.
Inside chamber a deathly cold hung in the air. Spotted a winged kobold across the chamber sitting behind a table, but it’s the unholy warrior that soon approached that quickly garnered our full attention, a skeletal dragonborn death knight. His very presence exudes death. Restless spirit attacked us soon after battle was engaged. Followed by a mind piercing pain of unknown origin. Situation was becoming very dire quickly. Finally we managed to overwhelm our adversaries, but the piercing pain clouding our minds continued to haunt us. Winged kobold, who we believed to be Wyrmlord Tillik, must have fled up the central spiral stairway as he has gone missing?… Mongo took note of a strange jar upon the table which contained someone’s brain. Attempted to shatter the object when he was mentally assaulted with a searing and sharp pain of the mind. The strange object apparently had some sort of mysterious psychic ability! Then the jar began to float in the air until it stopped twenty feet above!! Finally managed to shatter it. Psychic attacks stopped almost immediately. Fin has noticed that the book shelves were stacked with tomes on necromancy. One tome upon desk seems of particular interest. It speaks of some strange and powerful orb of great power from ancient legend! Apparently the orb use to be housed here in the tower nearly 500 years ago. Seems this is what Wyrmlord Tillik was after, but there are no signs that it was discovered.
Following a short rest Altain led the way up the spiral staircase to a trap door thirty feet above. Then carefully lifted door to sneak a peek. MISTAKE!! Fortunately I chose my own route and climbed from the balcony up to the battlements above. It was there that I witnessed the huge green dragon, “Emerald”, releasing a stream of its poisonous breath down the stairwell! Then as the stream of liquid came into contact with any type of surface it quickly turned vaporous, spreading the deadly poison throughout the area in a gaseous form! I quickly moved toward the partially opened trap door in an attempt to help. Then I scanned the area, but failed to spot Wyrmlord Tillik. But soon I discovered the little bastard when he suddenly swooped down behind me. Thankfully I noticed his shadow upon the trap door however, and reacted just in time to avoid being impaled with the Wyrmlord’s spear! We expected this to be the fight of our lives, but didn’t expect the green dragon to possess the ability to hypnotize his attackers with the simple glare of its eye. This, combined with the beasts ability to instill a deep rooted fear with its mere presence, was more than enough for the creature to secure its legendary status amongst the creature’s of ancient lore. But finally Emerald collapsed, but the cost of victory was nearly too great as Altain nearly died several times, surviving only because of Fin’s gift of healing. In fact all four of us were a bloody mess at one time or another. Yet we still prevailed.
Neither the wyrmlord nor the green dragon “Emerald” seems to possess anything of importance, and there is no ancient orb to be found anywhere. But after a thorough search I can’t help but be stunned by the thick scales of the dragon’s hide. These beasts are obviously well protected killing machines. I stand in awe at what we truly accomplished here on this day!
Finally after all was said and done I pulled the prophecy from my pack. It was time to perform the ritual of quenching. After cutting our way through the beasts tough hide the heart was finally exposed. Slowly I thrust my dagger down into the origin of the dragon’s breath weapon – its heart. The warm blood quickly gushed over my hand, and “Triflik’s Blade”. Then I began to feel the hilt of my blade slowly begin to hum, before suddenly fading away. Each of my companions then repeated this same ritual until all four had bathed our weapons in the lifeblood of our kill. Then as we began to wipe off our blades each of us noted a difference in the quality of our steel. The wear of our blades had vanished, and the niches of countless battles now gone! It seems as though the steel is renewed, as though fresh from a weapon smith’s forge. A brilliant shine seemingly unmatched by any weapon I have ever had the good fortune to lay eyes upon, and a hard edge sure to bring death to those unfortunate enough to cross my path.