The grotto of the pug dog god
Chapter Thirteen
Aguirre
King Merlin had only taken volunteers. Of course the first six men he asked to accompany him said, yes. His champion, Sir Rodrick was his stoutest fighter. An adventurer knight had sworn to serve him faithfully as long as he received the agreed pay. This worthy bore the latest arms and a massive lance: Sir Rodrick secretly nursed some jealousy of his "king's champion" status in the presence of Sir Sevan (so called because of his uncanny habit of rolling sevens with dice). The fourth mounted man was Sir Guy: these four were joined by the recently promoted, erstwhile, court jester, Danny, who now bore the royal banner: he came with two well-equipped men-at-arms. Merlin assured them that the banner bearer's sole responsibility was to keep the colors flying for any and all to see, as the company performed feats of valor and lasting fame: and the two guards were to assure that Danny came to no harm in the execution of his duty.
Making their leisurely way from the mountain realm, the company struck the highway north by east, and after many days found themselves in unfamiliar country, quite far from any connection to the enmity of Christian and Muslim. These people they met were garrulous at all the taverns and wayside inns: and thus by rumor and tale, the king and his men were directed toward the source of the reported monster. It wasn't until several months of travel had passed that they arrived on the fringes of a land that looked, if not ravaged, unkempt and even more thinly peopled than was usual: the ground looked good, but too many farms were empty, and those that looked occupied nonetheless showed few or no occupants: the fields were either fallow or untended with few exceptions. Toward the end of an afternoon, as they were looking for a place to stop for yet another night, they saw a burned hulk of a farmstead: bones of cattle and flocks littered the ground; and amidst the blackened timbers of a fallen roof, inside the yawning doorway, they saw the bones of men scattered about, and crushed skulls. It was a sobering sight!
Pressing on toward dark, they came at the last gleam of evening to a stoutly palisaded village almost large enough to pass for a small town. They were admitted after some interchange with guards on the walkway above the closed and barred gate. The thing that had let them in was announcing the purpose of their travels and arrival: "We seek the dragon!" They admitted it was their intent to find and slay the worm.
Needless to say, the party was plied with plenty of food and drink and questions: and were provided with information: for they had, indeed, come to the very neighborhood of the fell beastie. And it, or she, had a name: "Aguirre". Some of the locals shook their heads as they said that the monster must be the "wrath of God", to plague them so.
After a good night's sleep, and well into the next morning, the king and his men took counsel with any and all who could provide any news as to the dragon's lair: no one knew for certain, or exactly, but the general direction was plain. After assuring that they were well recouped from their long travels, king Merlin and his chosen band sallied forth. The countryside that they passed through was entirely denuded of inhabitants now. The abandoned, ruined and usually blackened farmsteads became rare and then ceased altogether.
They had come well provisioned to bivouac for weeks if required. Nevertheless, their supplies had run very low before they finally happened upon a shallow vale, on the far side of which stood a very old opening in the hillside, flanked by two large, white stone statues of squatting dogs, very fat, with pugnacious faces the likes of which none of them had ever seen. Someone in the village had mentioned a legendary pagan shrine or temple long unused "back in those hills": it seemed a likely spot for brigands or sheep during a bad storm: or perhaps a dragon if it were not of massive size. All partial glimpses of the beast had established that when at full height, with leathery wings going, its head, easily the size of a huge warhorse's, mostly all jaws and teeth and furnace breath, overtopped the tallest of men on a long, sinewy and armored neck. Horns tipped its skull above blazing slitted eyes. The creature was wont to descend suddenly from the air upon its chosen prey, and was just as quick to take to the air again. And now, here was that ancient grotto enlarged by human hands in a bygone age.
Everyone paused at once and were silent. This place smelled of death. And surely the bones littered thinly about indicated the presence of a carnivorous appetite.
King Merlin wordlessly eased his horse forward across the bare ground; hardly a tuft of dry grass showed amidst the stones. They came near the inverted "V" of the grotto, which, from where they peered in, seemed to go right back directly under the hill above: it looked disturbingly like an inanimate mouth, the lower half of which was buried in the ground. The king said, "Oh fine. I'll have a look then." And he started to swing his right leg over his horse's rump.
"None of that, Sire," said Sir Rodrick swiftly and in a trice he was on foot beside his destrier, sword out. And then he was advancing slowly across the open ground, pausing to look the two canine statues over before moving to one side and even more slowly passing between them and into the blackness of the passage.
The grotto of the pug dog god
King Merlin and his knights stop in front of the ancient shrine
Danny and his banner guards follow in the rear
Sir Rodrick dismounts and draws his sword
He approaches the entrance
When the king's champion was well in, he paused long enough to accustom his eyes to the gloom, which was nowhere near pitch blackness because of the tall inverted V-shaped opening behind him admitting full daylight on the smoothed walls and floor of the passage. In perhaps thirty feet, the passage emerged in the grotto proper, which had been widened to a serviceable chamber that could hold a good-sized congregation: or an immature dragon!
Zounds! The beastie is awake!
Sir Rodrick froze: the worm was everything the villagers had said and more, now that she was seen in the flesh. Aguirre hissed, and stood on all four clawed feet, neck curled, her head on a level to regard the man with evil-gleaming slitted yellow eyes. A snaky tongue longer than a poniard licked left and right over exposed teeth each as long as the span of a man's hand. Then the thing charged with a blasting hiss as loud as the roar of a lion.
Sir Rodrick is vanquished swiftly!
The knight struck mightily with his sword and it rebounded. He was backed down the passage and the dragon bit at him and raised claws to snatch. He defended himself but the weight of the charge bore him down and tossed him through the entrance to lie unconscious and bleeding on the rocks. (a roll of three less would have seen him dead)
Aguirre emerges and sees her enemies; she ignores the man lying at her feet
The contest begins
The king wastes not a moment and spurs his horse. He is flanked by Sir Sevan on the righthand and Sir Guy moves up on his left. But the range is too close: the horses cannot be charged and they barely get up to a slow trot before weapons range is reached. The dragon extends the claws of her right foreleg and Merlin reins his horse back out of range. Sir Sevan drives his lance point through the leather web of the dragon's left wing! Sir Guy gives blows but the monster is tougher than the stoutest suit of full steel plate.
The see-saw battle
Sir Guy is compelled to retreat in his turn and the king takes his place.
King Merlin and Sir Sevan force the dragon back!
What looked for a moment like an effective blow from the heavy lance startled the dragon and she coiled back on her tail hissing. In the rear, the banner is brought closer as Danny and his escort feel conflicted to stand as mere spectators.
The attack of the dragon!
Aguirre shrieks in fury and launches her mass into the midst of the three horses and riders, lashing out with claws, teeth and even wings, seeking to sweep the king from his saddle. Her mouth gaps wide and the back of her gullet glows like the mouth of a furnace flu: Sir Guy ducks in the saddle and pulls his horse into a tight caracole: horse and man are singed by the flames which narrowly miss them! Seeing this prodigy of monstrous weaponry, Danny and his men-at-arms take a few steps back.
King Merlin's destrier is felled!
As he tried for a flank position to attack, the crafty worm gored the warhorse with her rear claws. Merlin lands nimbly on his feet and drags the two-handed sword from the saddle scabbard. Aguirre has forced the other two mounted knights even further back. The banner company awaits the approach of the dragon, their morale barely holding!
There is almost a pause in the battle
Aguirre seems uncertain how to attack, as now she is surrounded: the king moved up in her rear and she lashes her tail; then Sir Sevan jams his lance into her left flank; she flaps that wing fecklessly and snaps on empty air as Sir Guy waves his sword just out of range: and so it goes for a long moment: nothing happens to break the deadlocked contest. The two knights in front increase their efforts and the dragon backs up, forcing the king to do likewise.
Another retreat!
A sudden rush of teeth and claws forces the two knights back. For a terrible moment, the king faces the dragon alone: she batters him about the head and shoulders with a distracting wing, lashes her tail around and forward and snags at him with a left foreclaw. Later, he couldn't say how he survived, much less managed to keep his feet.
Sir Sevan loses his horse!
Seeing the king in such desperate peril, both of his knights attack simultaneously. The dragon turns to the more threatening lancer, who had been thrusting at her with a reach advantage throughout the fight: her "boiler" is at full pressure again and this time Sir Sevan has committed to a rush forward: as the blast of furnace heat streaks toward him all he can do is haul back on the reins and rear his horse, which receives the full force of the fire; the knight evades the stricken animal's death thrashings. At about the same time the king struck a might two-handed blow to the monster's hind-quarters, and this one she felt keenly. And Sir Guy riding by laid a solid stroke under the horny jaw on the less protected neck!
Instantly all was changed
Screaming in pain and leaking some ichor, though not a great deal, Aguirre launches herself forward into a gallop, her webbed wings beating at the air. Sir Guy wheels about and takes after her, even managing to land a blow (though fecklessly) on her tail as she goes. Then ...
... Aguirre takes to the air
All the heroes can do is watch in dismay as the dragon climbs and fades to a speck and then is seen no more. They remove themselves to a good distance and make camp and keep a determined though hopeless watch on the grotto. "We'll stay till our provisions give out," says the king.
They go over their kit and water and feed their horses from the diminishing feed bags. King Merlin has a spare warhorse. Sir Sevan is granted permission to use Sir Rodrick's since he will be in no condition to ride for a long while.
"What are the chances that we'll see a scale of that thing after this?" says Sir Guy. "Not good," he finishes, when no one says anything.
But the dragon returns in a couple of days and does not see them in their distantly removed camp. She is sluggish as she lands ponderously. It appears as if she has fed.
Making a din to flush a dragon
Before she can sleep the company moves on the grotto and sets up as ferocious a din as they can manage: weapons clashing on shields and war cries: they carry this on until weary. A watch is kept on the entrance and the others sleep then watch in their turn. The next day the din making resumes and it is wearisome work. There is no way, after what happened to the sorely hurt Sir Rodrick, that any of them are willing to face that bellows heat backed by claws and teeth in what amounts to a horizontal chimney: so, it is either a fight in the open, or they will have to leave in another day: the food will be gone, except enough to get them back to civilization.
All but exhausted from their efforts, the dejected party retreats slowly toward their camp. Then behind them issues that hissss! ...
... and Aguirre is defiantly on parade before her lair
The heroes have never felt greater joy
They turn about and the knights spur to a trot. The footmen run to try and keep up. Danny holds the banner high in both hands. "Sire, let me have the center," says Sir Sevan: "This is to me to the death!"
Sir Sevan takes the center and charges to meet the dragon
Aguirre is on a straight course, galloping with jaws wide and a glow as from a forge building at the back of her throat. Sir Sevan lowers his lance. The king and Sir Guy angle to the flanks intending to come in from there swiftly.
It is finished!
In an eyeblink the lance point pierces through to the back of the dragon's head; her belched fire quenches around the lance shaft; it burns as she thrashes in death agony on the stones and then is still. Despite his victory, Sir Sevan is sorely scorched by the direct heat that escaped around his death weapon.
The king gets all the glory of instigating and organizing, and of having the service of these doughty fighters who could accomplish such a feat of arms: he gets the glory, his men all get to enjoy the fame of being there and participating: but of course, Sir Sevan gets all the renown. Yet, it is a very good thing that Aguirre was only an adolescent worm, or most likely, this tale would have ended with: "And they were never seen or heard of again."
THE END
(Sir Rodrick makes a full recovery at the village before the heroes turn their horses' noses for home, most of a year's ride, at the same leisurely pace, away. Sir Sevan is now a +1 fighter.
The dragon rules worked well: I've had them ready to play, soon after I got the dragon, which, if I recall correctly, was Xmas of 2004. Basically, you have immature, mature and old dragons; the mature dragon is the most formidable, but not the toughest; immature dragons don't fly as strongly or take off as swiftly as mature dragons: they need a "runway" start, whereas a mature dragon can literally launch/leap into the air from a stop; this does not mean that they are always jumping into the air like pogo sticks: regardless of their flying prowess, they are still more at home on the ground, and in the ground: they are "worms", after all. Old dragons fly seldom, and quite possibly not any more: their wings having been shredded in combat over the years; they belch fire less often but it is more potent; and being gnarly with age, their scales are ridiculously tough: a Defend of 16 for immature, 20 for mature and 22 for old dragons. All dragons when they take a hit roll to test if it turns into a DBm instead, and then to see if they will try for flight (if that is an option); if the DE is effective the dragon dies: dragons are, after all, unlucky when facing heroes. Attack dice ranging from 2D6 for wings to 9D6 for old dragon flame, and increasing number of attacks for older, more experienced dragons, will require an army to take one down, if at all.)