Salvadar – From “And Dungeon Makes Three”

{Timeline: Approximately one month after the end of Ch. 20}

The individual in the loose robes of one of the desert dwellers staggered back to the cheap room he and his friend had rented for the week. He was enveloped in the fumes of the cheap alcohol sold in the Dancing Pig.

He blinked around in some confusion as he swayed in the open doorway. Dannila the worn looking barmaid pushed him out of the way as she made her way out of the room. He was feeling distinctly unwell and thus let her go without attempting to cadge a kiss. He could see his friend curled up on the flimsy uncomfortable bed.

He elbowed the door closed and wove his way to the bed. He sat down rather abruptly and hugged his stomach. He was starting to feel numb. It was almost a relief after the pain that had been growing slowly over the last week or two. The icy numbness seemed to spread out from his heart. After a moment of relief he collapsed back onto the bed his head landing on his friend’s legs.

Then all he knew was pain. And he was unable to move or cry out. And death came visiting and he knew no more.

For the next two days nobody visited the room. The bodies of the two disguised satyrs squirmed as things, many things moved under their skin.

On the third day scores of young dragonsnails emerged as they finished consuming their “mothers” leaving only polished skeletons behind. The young dragonsnails grew rapidly and were consequently starving. At this point they all were between ten to twenty centimetres long. One of the biggest amongst them, the proud owner of two heads dominated the others. Unlike his siblings there seemed to be intelligence in his eyes.

The two-headed leader of the horde reigned in his siblings until night fell. Then they moved out of the room using some of the numerous holes and gaps in the shoddy walls. The neighbouring room was empty but the next proved to be a dormitory, a bunkroom. The few individuals who had retired early didn’t have a chance.

By the time the huge dragon headed snails had cleaned the top floor of the decrepit inn they had more than doubled in size. They congregated at the top of the stairs. Hesitating to descend. The sounds coming from the bar implied that there were many patrons. But in the end hunger won and the dragonsnails descended en mass.

The young snails were still weak, but there were almost forty of them and most had special attacks such as poisonous slime, the ability to spit acid or fire. And the patrons were poor and many were malnourished. None of them were trained fighters.

* * *

Raavon looked at his scratch team unhappily. He had just been elected the leader thanks to being an initiate of Armalor, he fingered the hilt of his broadsword and firmed his shoulders. He looked over his team and met their reluctant gaze. None of them was experienced, they had all avoided serving in Refuge, being uneasy at the quests that had been on offer there.

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Raavon looked back at Sook’a the adventurer’s guild officer who had put them together and handed them this escort and extermination quest. Raavon dropped his eyes; Sook’a was a very intimidating amazon. Then he looked to magistrate Garwolf. The stout elderly representative of the downwind district was leaning on his stout walking stick and scowling at Sook’a.

Garwolf snorted contemptuously. “Are these greenhorns the best you can do? What’s up with the guild, I thought your members were experienced adventurers.”

Sook’a shrugged, “We lost most of our experienced members with Refuge. There’s really not much to do here in Riverbend. Escorting a few caravans through the civilized lands and along the Trade Road, through the Khanate. Then too, the new dungeon town has skimmed of what was left.”

Raavon exchanged a look with his team and was pleased to note that they seemed to be gaining in determination. Maybe this would work after all.

* * *

Raavon and his team formed a loose ring around the magistrate Garwolf. They made their way slowly towards the downwind district. The streets became meaner the closer they got to downwind. The streets became narrower and dirtier. The people worse dressed and increasingly impoverished.

Downwind was a slum. Its inhabitants looked half starved and many were pale and sickly. The streets stank of unwashed humanity and open sewers. Raavon noted that Garwolf held a perfumed handkerchief to his nose, and that he looked uneasy. The locals seemed to regard their representative with hatred and Raavon could sense that only the presence of his team was restraining some of them from attacking Garwolf.

Then, finally they arrived at the Drunken Pig. The inn was scorched and half ruined. They awaited as Garwolf inspected the scene with disgust, maintaining his handkerchief against his nose. Then Garwolf, reluctantly put his handkerchief away, and after gesturing to one of his escort to precede him, stepped into the inn.

“Shit!” exclaimed Haz, “miniature dragonsnails!”

This was followed by the sounds of combat and Garwolf left the inn in a hurry. Raavon drew his sword and entered the Drunken Pig behind his shield.

The common room contained some fifteen or so dragonsnails, all averaging about sixty centimetres long. Raavon and his team made short work of them. It took some time as they were tough and took a lot of killing.

When they finally emerged in reply to Garwolf’s increasingly anxious demands they found him surrounded by hostile locals.

Magistrate Garwolf quickly regained his arrogance once the adventurers once again surrounded him. “Excellent work Raavon. I now know what happened and can write my report. Lets leave.”

“But we don’t know how these things got here. And there are undoubtedly more of them,” argued Raavon.

“Nonsense. Some adventurers must have fetched them for some reason, and they got away from them. The quest is complete. Let’s go.” Garwolf produced his perfumed handkerchief and started stumping his way towards a more salubrious section of the town of Riverbend.

Reluctantly Raavon after a last room back at the half demolished inn followed him.

* * *

On the roof of the building across the street from the inn the two headed intelligent dragonsnail watched the group leave. He looked himself in the eye, and then he regarded the ten dragonsnails that were resting around him and determined to find somewhere to hide until he, they were stronger.

* * *

Back at the Adventurer’s Guild Magistrate Garwolf signed of the quest and generously handed out a bonus for a job well done.

Sook’a watched Garwolf leave sardonically. She eyed the scratch adventurer team. “So, are things sorted?”

“No!” exploded Raavon as his team nodded and murmured agreement.

“Well, lets have it. What really happened?”

“We found fifteen recently hatched dragonsnails. They ranged from level zero to two. Magistrate Garwolf declared the quest done before we could even explore the inn we found them in.”

“So there are more of them and we don’t know how they got here?”

“Yes.”