The Dragon's Whisper

[Pen N Popper]

Jenra 1415

~~ Reawakening ~~

Nearly fifteen years ago, a small and quiet brownie arrived in Hlint from Prantz (then Pranzis). He had but a few true, fewer possessions, and no companions. He had travelled there at the behest of a dragon, Ozlo, to fight in a war against an enemy whose power was, and perhaps still is, beyond imagination.

Alas, what could a mere quarterling do against such a foe? Instead of a sword, this small fellow took up a quill and set it to parchcment. In Junar 1400, the first parchment went up in Hlint's Wild Surge inn. It was the start of a long effort to share needed information amongst the heroes of the land: The Dragon Called.

Now, years later, the dragon that called so many to aid the lands is gone. His memory too fades as new feet tread the trails and erase the footprints of earlier veterans. There are new dragons calling now, beating their powerful wings against the winds of the land. There are new heroes to be made too; tomorrow's veterans.

Where will you stand when the fiery breath comes across the mountains?
How will you be recalled in legend and lore? Or will you be remembered at all?

I think you will.

[Pen N Popper]

*scribbled at the top*
An excerpt from a past issue. ~~Bee



Vol XII Num IV Oclar 1411

~~ Frindahl's Fortress ~~
by Bumblebee

The day started much as many others had with me camped beside Corax Lake. The dark morning clouds overhead continued to spit their rain down upon the already soaked lands, so I had no hope for a fire. I often camp beside the lake on a small jetty that sticks out into it. A small stone at the edge of the water is perfect for my small frame to sit upon.

This spot offers the opportunity to greet and inquire of the travels from the passing adventurers. It is too dangerous for the merchants and the path too narrow for caravans and such. This means that most that come past are destined to explore the lands. Little did I know what the day would bring and how much I would see by the following morning.

As fate would have it one of the Loom brothers, Voon, would pass by my camp. I have traveled with him on several occassions since researching the goings on of the Berylites some years past. He is quite skilled in the field and there are fewer I feel safer with than he.

With him was Goldwin Blacknight, and the pair might not have noticed me upon my rock if I had not called out. (A reason I prefer starting a warm campfire at this site to catch the travellers eye.)

Voon, dressed in unscratched cobalt armor, was not inclined to delay their travels as they were to meet others in Dalanthar. The pair, though, agreed that I would be welcome to come along as they made haste to the North.

Outside of Dalanthar we found the group we were travelling to meet. In addition to Voon Loom and Goldwin Blacknight, there were Quantum Windword, Savin Amandil, Nobwocket Dernhelm, Beasty Headsmasher, and Malor Lucredious. After greetings and introductions, I learned our destination: The orc fortress of Frindahl.

I was quite hesitant at first to join such a venture. Not being overly skilled in battle with my small bow, what could I provide? Steeling my courage, though, I thought to document such a journey. Is this not what I claim to seek? Right before me, such an opportunity to travel with veterans of many wars. I committed myself to aiding them.

As the group made magical and spiritual preparations, I did likewise. First a small vial of liquid to aid my intellect, for there would be many details to remember I was sure. Then checking over my bowstring and quiver full of plain arrows. Finally, a quick prayer to Prunilla to watch out for this fool farmer of tales.

As midnight approached, the towering Thunderpeaks loomed above us dark and cold. Snow, falling from the clouds high over our heads, sifted down upon us as graveyard dirt would to fill a grave. I could not help the shivering that rattled my gear.

We marched though the passes, having to deal with giants, until we came to a narrow cleft. There, spread out below, was a ridged valley. Far in the distance, a twinkling of torches. My recollection fills in the details as I recall this scene now. I know now that the dark cliffs hinted at across that distance were instead the walls of the fortress.

We entered the valley and met the first guards. All made haste to quiet them, with Goldwin taking down the archer and Quantum the guard. Though it was over quickly, the violence of the battle hinted at what was yet to come.

Some had travelled here before and knew the path ahead. We were to take a twisting route to the fortress, with the aim being to move quickly but efficiently. The ridges of the valley offered ample places for archers to note our passage. For some reason, though, the guards seemed paralyzed in their high posts as we passed.

Safely to a wooden gate, Voon and Beasty dispatched the pair of guards and we were through and inside the compound. Here my memory recalls only a blurred and chaotic scene: A bridge, shrouded in mist from the river, obscuring guards. So many, too many! Axes and swords clashing, brilliant lights of magic slamming and scorching. Archers! There! Over and between the barricades, a final pair of orcs downed in a flurry of might.

I suppose the whole battle lasted no more than a few moments, but I felt as if time had slowed around me and that it would never end.

Into the fortresses doors, the group pushing the surprised orcs aside. Down narrow corridors and then crashing through into the library. Stacks of books! No time to look! Flashes, then screams, then silence.

Door ahead, check it over and unlock, then through and step quietly into a bedroom. Here whispered preparations are made, plans traced out on the floor. I stay back, willing myself to recall the details for writing this tale later. Voon agrees to present himself as a target to any in the room ahead, the others to surprise the orcs that will pursue.

It's begun! The guards come running, archers on their heels. Quantum downs a guard, Voon another. Goldwin takes a guard and then the archer behind. Beasty takes the other archer. The others in our group apply their magics to the battle, attack where opportunities arise, holding the corridor.

There he is! Clearly a leader amongst these orc, he's enormous. Again and again the leader smashes Voon. Savin lets spells fly, Nobwocket trying to get in there too. Goldwin coming from the side. Finally, Malor gets in the blow that downs the orc.

Quickly now, time to get out. The orcs won't take this breech of their fortress well. But wait, check the room. There, a chest, grab what you can.

Swiftly the group departs down the same path travelled to arrive at the fortress. More battles, but the group is heady with success and there is no stopping us.

Back in the mountains, with the snow still softly falling and the sun lightening the clouds above. Soft and white, the drifting snow seems welcome now. Clean and bright. Perhaps a camp in the mountains wouldn't be so bad. Certainly not if surrounded by such strength as these.

[Pen N Popper]

Jenra 1421

Though negotiations with the scribing guilds of the land took years longer than expected, their service, along with a single paperboy, have been finalized. The Dragon's Whisper, due in no small part to the generous backing of faithful supporters, will soon have direct distribution. Whispers to words, rumors to facts, adventures to lore, and youth to veteran.

The last published issue of The Dragon's Whisper will soon be on sale in Hempstead with a new edition coming out in the near future.