One Last Adventure....

The Beginning

It is the year 585 Ptolus, year of the Games. The party had broken up 2 years ago today, each going her/his own way, swearing an oath to reunite on this day to relive old glories of the past. The party had met approximately 7 years prior and gone on several minor adventures. The culmination of this venture gave them the titles, The Saviors of Ptolus. The party, in an epic battle, slew a great blue dragon that savagely attacked the city of Ptolus without provocation. The battle fiercely raged, the great dragon seeming to be more than a match for them, yet the party stood victorious at its conclusion, the beast dead at their feet. At least, that is the official story.

In truth, the party did indeed slay a dragon. However, there was no battle. Nor did the dragon attack Ptolus. The dragon, an elderly blue by the name of Szvarchorvyx had been badly wounded and poisoned by unknown means. He was flying back to his roost, the path taking him high over Ptolus, when the poison weakened him to the point he could no longer stay airborne. He attempted to glide his way to the Morn Woods, but fate had other plans. He instead lost altitude faster than he had wanted, seemingly diving towards Ptolus. To further confuse the issue, the combination of the poison and his injury and his rapid descent caused him to inadvertently release a small burst of electricity. The burst ricocheted harmlessly off a tower, but caused such an uproar of terror and alarm that the King himself believed the city to be under attack and ordered his personal guard to attack the dragon. Szvarchorvyx temporarily lost consciousness, but regained it as he crashed into the top of the tower. His contact did some damage to the tower, but he was able somehow to flap his great wings and fly up and over the wall before he hit the ground. The dragon was able to turn to the southwest and fly almost a mile from the city when his strength failed completely and he crashed into the ground, never to take to the air again.

Coincidently, the party was that area coming back from an attempt at solving the Mystery of South Road. They had actually just left that morning and after a day of arguments, had given up on the quest and returned to Ptolus. The nearly 5 years of adventuring had not lined their pockets with the riches they had thought to make. It was extremely hard work and very low on pay. They had seen more than most, but nowhere near the scope of adventure bards sang of or scribes wrote in books. True, they had made a few friends and contacts, but the big payday had not yet come. It was the bard of the party, Swift Fairhair, that suggested they take on the Mystery of South Road. After all, two kings had disappeared on it, what better way to riches than to find out why? But Fairhair’s enthusiasm was not shared by the rest of the party, leading to the argument and eventual decision to give up on the quest and adventuring all together. But then a dragon fell out of the sky nearly at their feet. Though they had adventured together and seen many things, none had seen a live dragon, let alone this close, and they reacted as most citizens would. They panicked. Before this day, the worst they had faced was a band of orcs with 2 perytons as pets. But now, a blue dragon crash landed not 20 paces in front of them. Fairhair began to blurt out every fact his mind could recall on blue dragons as the party members nearly tripped over each other trying to decide whether to fight their last fight or run for their lives. But one of them managed to gather their senses and noticed the dragon was not doing much more than labored breathing. Szvarchorvyx then weakly called out to them in desperation. He bade the party to end his suffering, telling them of his plight. The poison was not meant to kill him quickly, but a long, slow, agonizing death that could take months. After several minutes of anxiety, the party agreed to end the dragon’s life. Szvarchorvyx thanked them and mumbled something, then closed his eyes. Two of the party members climbed atop his great head, and under direction from Fairhair, drove a long sword blade into the brain stem of the dragon, ending its pain and life. It was about this time that a contingent of the Ptolus army crested a hill overlooking the area, the Captain witnessing the fatal blow in utter surprise. A mighty cheer rose from the 500 soldiers, scaring the party nearly as much as the dragon’s crash had. The Captain and his men rode up the the party and hailed them as heroes. The party was escorted back to Ptolus and presented to King Ralmond Vise Ptolus, who declared them The Saviors of Ptolus. A grand 7 day-long celebration went on in their honor. They were awarded the wealth and status they had yearned for all those years.

At the end of the celebrations, the party met in private to discuss the whirlwind of events that had transpired. Though some felt uneasy about be hailed as heroes and dragonslayers when they simply put a dying dragon out of its misery, they agreed to keep silent as to what really occured and to go with the official story. Especially as it would cause the king to appear to be a fool, something none of them were really willing to be the cause of such a thing. They swore an oath of life and blood to speak to none of the truth. They also agreed to reunite in two years from that day. And so they parted ways, each keeping their vow of silence.



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