It was not to be a quiet Yule at Sequarl. Grettir was pleased to receive reports from various parts of Sequarl of its inhabitants banding together to drive off orcs and ogres without his personal intervention. Much treasure over the last two decades had gone into improving fortifications and training militias. However, there was word of a threat of another order that had wrecked a large farm in Border district in the north of Sequarl and eaten a dozen horses and cattle. It sounded like it might be a dragon and it had apparently emerged out of a blizzard.
Girindor Wind-walked Grettir, Paradoxides, Ubaron, Jason and Grettir’s huscarles Kolgrim to the site of the attack. Sure enough, there were tracks of a large lizardly wyrm, heading away north. It was clearly not the flying sort of dragon. The tracks were easily followed at first but when they went into the West Otanga the party were left flying up and down the banks seeking to pick up the tracks again. Over the next two days, with breaks at night back in Sequarl (for it was bitterly cold and they had no tents with them), they sought the dragon, using Paradoxides’ dragon-seeking amulet. Eventually they tracked it down to a tumulus – an old grave mound – with two menhirs forming an entrance.
As they stood around tump the dragon darted out and savaged Jason, but Grettir struck it a mighty blow and it fled back into its lair. Grettir pursued, followed by his companions, but as soon as he was across the threshhold the dragon pushed over one of the menhirs, blocking the entrance and trapping Grettir alone with an old foe in the dark. For Grettir knew this dragon and the dragon knew him. Twenty years ago they had met when both were younger and not yet in their powers. (See A10 – The Entwood) Though it had managed to ensorcel Grettir’s companions on that occasion, Grettir had stood firm. Lacking the confidence to take on this young warrior with magic armour and elven blade, the cold drake had agreed to a riddling contest – which Grettir subsequently won.
The dragon seemed to want to talk, but Grettir was not in the mood. His helm, the Master of Fire, not only protected him absolutely from fire, it also allowed him to see in the dark. With his fist he smashed the two jars of alchemical fire he habitually wore suspended from his chest and closed with the dragon. The magical fire burnt the cold drake terribly as Grettir pressed into him. He stabbed repeatedly with an invisible dagger in his right hand, while gripping the beast with his left. Wyrm squirmed in his grip but there was nowhere to retreat. It tried some magics but Grettir resisted them. It tried to bring down the roof but Grettir’s ioun stone meant that he could hold his breath indefinitely and he was protected from stone. Grettir took some wounds from its talons and teeth but it was the wyrm that bled out first. Grettir emerged from the mound covered in blood and mud, smoke rising from him, tendrils of liquid fire still trickling down his front.
They excavated the mound and found what they guessed to have been the original grave goods, which included a magic sword and armour. Grettir had the dragon’s corpse disinterred, skinned and its head and claws taken. It was awkward to transport, but there were few, if any, men alive who could claim to have slain a dragon (even a small one) in single combat, and he was damned if it wasn’t going to adorn his feasting hall.
Yule was a troubled time. Many of Sequarl’s soldiers reported seeing old comrades long dead, mostly killed at the Battle of Orc Ford over a decade since. Girindor reported seeing Frost Giants when he went south to visit the gnomes in Redhill. The weather steadily worsened and Rendip Rim said that he thought that someone had brought a Fimbulwinter upon the land. Various magical, druidic and priestly researches suggested Black Orc Rock on the western border to be the epicenter of a great summoning.
G-10a
OE Date: December 694
Characters: Grettir, Ubaron, Paradoxides, Jason, Girindor NPCs: Kolgrim, Adderbarg
Real World: October 2007; Where: Surbiton
See also Ubaron’s Diaries