Emboldened by the blessings of Lady Tula Wilfried slams the glowing gauntlet into the creature
Pavo stepped up to fill the gap. His kukri flashed through the air, aiming for the creature but pulled up short at the last second. It was hard to tell if it was a feint, or if Pavo really didn't like being this close to the incorporeal undead.
The wraith recoils from Spitter's magical light and flinches with Ren's beam and Will's divinely enchanted weapon, but Leng's furious flurry seems to really make it howl. It reaches out, using it's supernatural senses to find the nearest source of dreaded life energy and reaches for Wilfrid.
Pew!
The close confines of melee make Renliat over-cautious and he hits the floor about five feet in front of him.
Gritting his pointy teeth, Spitter moves forward to hit the ghostly thing!
"Your time to move on has arrived."
Striking at the undead once more with his sacred weapon.
Leng circles to take advantage of having spitter on the far side of the wraith as the whirling kusarigama makes a roaring noise, flames jumping and sputtering from it.
Alturic's corrupted spirit recognizes the danger in Spitter's weapon, and focuses too heavily on the kobold's assault. He leaves himself wide open to Leng's furious flaming chain even as Ren and Wil miss their own strikes, and the spirit cries out in anguish and impotent fury as it loses cohesion and disperses in tiny black motes. The whispering stops and the darkness itself seems to brighten. A gold wedding band falls from nowhere to land on Alturic's sarcophagus.
Retrieving the ring quickly, Spitter shines it and appraises it.
"Not bad. I wonder if it's magical..."
An inscription on the inside of the band reads, "To my love Alturic, I will always be true".
Raising his gauntlet. "Lord in Iron grant these poor souls who fought even after death, the rest they deserve."
Spitter will rummage the rest of the dead bodies and tombs.
"No reason to leave anything valuable behind..."
Spitter and the others search the tombs turning up many strange and powerful artifacts. Upon returning the wedding ring to Lady Tula's crypt her disembodied voice sighs with relief. "Thank you. May the Gods and Goddesses favor your endeavor." Like her husband, Lady Tula was buried with many incredible objects.
The Azars bow respectfully and take a knee in deference. As soon as the gear is recovered from the Gold Knight's they give a hearty cheer and return to their home plane.
Outside the tomb it has grown late. The sun hangs low in the sky, having burned through the clouds as the Belhaim's heroes unearthed history.
Spitting into the swamp water nearby, Spitter turns and waves at the way back towards the town.
"Camp here or head back now? I can lead us through the dark here if needs be pink-skins."
"I have some remaining spell power and am only lightly injured. How are the rest of you?"
Says the dwarf as he admires his new armor.
Belhaim's stalwart heroes return from their foray to the dragon's bones and Tula's crypt armed with the knowledge that the Aeteperax is still dead and the ancient dragon slayer's mighty arms and armor. On the path through the swamp on the return to the town a red bearded man wearing a feathered cap steps out of the brush. "It isn't enough." the man says. His voice is rough and harsh. "The dragon has allies and powerful magic at the monastery."
"Who are you? And how do you know what the dragon is doing?"
Asks the Dwarf.
"Azmur Kell," the man says warily. "And I know what I know because Aeteperax has forced me to be his agent. He has my wife." Kell chews on his cheek then sucks air through his teeth. "But I fear that even if he gets everything he wants he's going to still kill her and me. He's got others. Other agents, that is. That old monastery means something to him. Something that keeps him sending followers to it. Something that made him move his lair to be near it. I've got to go. Please...my wife...she's pregnant." Kell turns and rushes off into the forest. Despite his sprinting he leaves no trace of his passage.
"Well, great," says Leng. "I guess we know where we're going." He casually tosses one end of his weighted chain up over his shoulder and lets it hang there. "At least I can just knock out people who've been suborned by extortion instead of killing them."
Spitter leans on his small staff and spits off into the grass.
"You pink-skins are weird. Dragons considers themselves 'Masterminds' and try to control their slaves using the most easiest means at their disposal. That man could be lying, be duped into helping the dragon...or even just mind-controlled. Extortion and blackmail are not beneath them of course. What's a 'monastery'?"
Renliat doesn't even have time to process the sudden arrival before he's sprinted off into the wilderness again. "No Spitter, that was weird even by human standards."
"A monastery is where monks preside, ones who focus on self-perfection and enlightenment, often faithful of Irori. I suppose that is our next stop, perhaps it is an elaborate trap, but honestly if the dragon were taking a personal interest in putting a stop to us I think there is little we could to to prevent it from just killing us himself."
"Hah! That's the spirit Leng. Well, what are we waiting for? Onward to this monastery...uh, does anyone know where it is?"
"I am sure once we return to town, someone there will know the way. Rest, replenish, requisition, and recon. Oh and there should be time for a few drinks as well."
Waiting at the tavern with Talia is Bassy. They sit quietly with steaming mugs of tea slowly cooling on the table before them. Both women look up as the mighty dragon slayers-to-be enter. Bassy's eyes implore the unspoke questions: The bones? The treasures?
Spitter hands the key back to Bassy.
"The old dragon is truly dead: I can attest to that. Whomever this dragon is, its not your old one. Its a different one. At least that's what the pink-skin man in the feathered hat said. Said 'the dragon' kidnapped his wife...or something like that? Kell? Azmush Kell I think. Sorry. Human names elude me sometimes. Said something about a monastery?"
Bassy nods as though Spitter were confirming her suspicions. When hearing Kell's name she arches an eyebrow. "He is the local druid, the one who went missing back before the tower collapsed. Huh."
Talia interjects, "You know his wife Rima is pregnant? She's gone too."
Bassy nods to Talia before addressing Spitter again. "The monastery? Yeah, that's the one Lady Tula allowed the Iorians to build. It isn't too far past the quarry."
"Iorians, good fighters. I don't see them letting a misbehaving dragon about." Holding up his mug and waving it to catch the barmaid's eye. "Unless the beast has done away with them. Would be some fight though."
Spitter scratches his scaly chin with a scritch-scratching noise, and sighs, then leans again on his staff.
"Are we talking about what I think we are talking about? Finding a dragon that does not want to be found? Negotiating or killing said dragon? One with magic and servants enough to put a scare into your entire pink-skin town? We are NOT getting paid enough. You may look down on kobolds, but we know dragons like no other creatures. We are distantly related and...we know how hard it is to kill them. There is a reason many of my people worship them as gods. Even baby dragons are a force to be reckoned with."
Pavo slowly nodded as Spitter spoke.
"Well, we've still no guarantee it is a dragon. As you've said, it doesn't act like a dragon, all this hiding and whatnot...I don't know" Pavo said with a shrug.
"You're the expert. What do you think? You think it is a dragon? If it is a dragon, why claim to be one dragon over another?"
"And I don't see we have much choice? We couldn't just walk away and not help, at least I can't. The same way you couldn't walk away from your kin if they were in trouble, I'd imagine."
"And I don't know that there's any more wealth in this town. At least if it is a dragon, it should have a hoard right?"
"Well I for one am always happy to drop in on a monastery and share some pointers with the local practitioners," says Leng.
Spitter grimaces.
"My Clan...my family are all dead. Killed by pink-skins who wanted our land. However, you are right: If one or more were here now, I would want to help and protect them."
He spits in the grass.
"But if this is a dragon, and it sounds like one, then he's hiding himself for some reason. Maybe he's playing a mind-game and hoping to trick you pink-skins, but his demands for the books...?"
He then looks knowingly at the others.
"I'm seeing a deranged mind here I think. Even dragons go crazy or get obsessed beyond the norm. They are NOT gods, but some THINK they are. But that also means this one is vulnerable somehow...which is why he is not out trying to kill everyone here himself. He's using proxies... blackmail... demanding the impossible. What is his end game here? We find that out and we have him by the smaller scales...well you know what I mean."
Bassy shakes her head. "No, no, they've been gone a long time. A long time. They were there. They were gone. The monastery has been abandoned a long time. If the dragon is marshalling forces, it'd be a good idea to see the why, who, what, and where."
"This dragon is just asking for a fight. And it seems The Lord in Iron put me here for a reason. To give it to him." Nodding to Bassy. "But if the town can provide any help. Either manpower or resources. We would not turn them down."
"More is going on here than what can be seen, that is clear."
He inhales slowly. "Rest, then travel to the monastery, that seems our next course of action."
"Yeah. Let's reprovision while we can too. Check the shops, see if there is anything else we can use."
Spitter spits again.
"I don't recommend sending a large force at him Mr. Stone-Eater. If this dragon is 'weird' then there is no telling how he will react to a large group approaching his 'hunting grounds.' He might slaughter the entire town in pique, or just to see us bleed out slowly. I've heard of one particular Red dragon who liked crucifixion for his enemies. Anyway, a smaller force would most likely go unnoticed and be overlooked by the dragon. Such a puny force would 'be as nothing' compared to his 'might' or so they all say."
He turns and whispers to himself...
"Can't parcel out the dragon's horde to too many peons that way either!"
"Honestly, I don't think we're dealing with a dragon." Renliat ventures. "Even a wyrmling would be a significant threat to us, anything old enough to do this kind of scheming and planning would be so far beyond our capabilities that this entire adventure would be pointless. I suspect we're dealing with something that is pretending to be a dragon."
"I am still not sold either way," Bassy says. She stands and straightens up. "But it is clear that the Monastery of Saint Kyerixus holds meaning to the Aeteperax imposter. It's where Kell pointed you and it's where the ransom was ordered to be delivered in a couple weeks."
She throws enough coin to Talia to cover her drinks as well as a couple of rounds for the heroes and heads home with a wave. "Come find me when you get back. I'm going to want to hear all about it."
"Well drink up my friends. Tonight may well be our last. Tomorrow we see this "dragon" for ourselves."
"That's the spirit! Next round is on me." Says the dwarf as he drains his mug and waves the barmaid over.
Low dark clouds threaten rain all morning as the would-be dragon slayers traverse the swamp on the way to the Monastery of St. Kyerixus. A light drizzle starts when they reach the processional.
Eight weather-worn statues in various martial poses flank a tiled patio leading up to the monastery’s gate. The weathered, iron gate is ajar. A guardhouse lies to the north, and three narrow arrow slits face ominously southward from its facade.
Spitting, Spitter swings his small staff over his shoulder, and comments a bit sarcastically.
"You pink-skins and your statues! Never see a kobold waste good stone, or time, on such. We just dedicate traps to certain dragons and senior tribe members! The more enemies the trap disables or kills, the greater the honor!"
Looking around carefully, he turns and whispers.
"If we haven't been noticed yet, I can still turn into to a raven and fly around to get a look see. Maybe get information they might not expect us to get? No telling how long the dragon's servants have been hanging around getting bored...and complacent."
"That's a good idea Spitter. Just uh, don't get eaten, ok.?"
As long there is no objection, Spitter will change into a raven, eagle, or other innocuous bird creature of 'small size' and wing around the monastery, looking for dangers and other possible enemy secrets!