Tag: dragon-blown metal

#Lore24 – Entry #326 – Fantasy Month IV #21 – Bandits and Brigands, To Plunder a Dungeon

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos

Our captors transported us quickly through the woods, no doubt having become quite familiar with them during their time hiding amongst them.  I could hear when we cleared them and approached their camp, for there were shouts alerting the others that they had “prizes aplenty, ripe and pretty”.  Though I was blindfolded, I could hear quite a few people coming out around us as we were brought to what I assume was the center of the camp and dropped none-to-gently upon the ground.  Risai was certainly vocal in her protests, however garbled by her gag they were.

The excitement around us died down quickly once a commanding voice called out from nearby, sounding very much Imperial in its way of speaking, and quite angry that we’d been brought to the camp.  Our captors made no secret of what it was they sought from us, saying they’d have to work to “crack that one’s shell if we want the sweet meats inside” in reference to me.  I heard the name Garri mentioned, who I figured was their leader, chastising our captors again for stupidly bringing us here.  When he asked about whether they’d dealt with the rest of our party, there was some nervous silence, then one of the orcs, I think, blurted out something about not even checking.  Garri, the leader, ordered us taken to the “cellar”, and the guard to be doubled, on the lookout for any other adventurers who may be lurking around looking for their missing women.

With the camp in an uproar, we were roughly picked up again and taken elsewhere, somewhere nearby and underground, for the sounds changed again, and the air grew cooler, and we were deposited upon cold stone, a door shutting behind our captors, the sound of wooden bar being thrown into place outside. 

We wasted no time in escaping from our bonds.  Though my hands were growing rather numb by this point, the moment we were left alone, we struggled and scooted our way together, somehow managing to coordinate our efforts to free one another, with Gresilda being the first to wiggle her hands free, making short work of the bonds upon Risai and I once she had done so.  It was dark here, only a sliver of light coming from the floor at the base of the door, so I called up a small orb of arcane light so that we could see our surroundings.

It seemed we were indeed in something of a cellar, though the architecture was decidedly draconic in nature, leaving no question that this was once part of the ancient city that once sprawled across this area.  The door was new, and relatively stout, likely from a carpenter amongst the bandits, for Risai couldn’t budge it when she tried to break it down, and only succeeded in earning more bruises.  There were barrels and boxes within the room, some broken, many empty, others with flour, wheat, and the other foodstuffs that would keep for a while.  As Gresilda calmed Risai from her insistence upon busting down the door, I studied the ancient carvings upon the walls.  As I came to a particular carving, I noticed a particular seam in the worked stone that seemed out of place behind some of the boxes containing some woodworking tools.  Upon closer inspection, I determined it to be a well-concealed doorway, and with a few more minutes of study, found the release mechanism.  The ancient door swung inward with barley a rumble, still smooth upon its ancient hinges, revealing a narrow set of stairs leading further down into darkness.

We debated for a few moments about whether to stay or go, and of course, being the bold adventuring types we are, decided to take the stairs, though we would do so cautiously.  We first made sure we could reopen the door from the opposite side, then proceeded carefully along, Risai having taken up a stout, cut board as a makeshift weapon to lead the way, with me following close behind with our light.  I had not mentioned the lack of signs of rats in the food containers in our makeshift prison, meaning that either the bandits were keeping them at bay, or perhaps more likely, something else was.

The passages below were on the cramped side, leading me to think that this area was perhaps once primarily used by the drakonae.  The damage was relatively light compared to other places, though there were signs that the roots of the trees above were inevitably working their way through the stonework.  We avoided any additional stairs, instead looking for another way to reach the surface, hopefully perhaps outside the area of the bandit camp.  After perhaps an hour of searching, we came upon a larger chamber, some of the ancient stone benches still intact around the periphery, along with scraps of wood and cloth of other furniture that had mostly rotted away.  More curious, though, were the weapon racks built into the walls between the benches.  Most were empty, though four remained that still held some metal weapons that looked, aside from dust and cobwebs, to be in usable condition.  As I looked more intently upon them, Risai approached one and reached out for the double-edged sword that stood there. 

I realized a moment too late that she was in danger. 

It clicked in my brain that two of the weapon racks were identical, down to the pattern of the cobwebs and their contents, even the broken nub that remained of a larger peg.  As I called out for her to stop, the rack she approached seemed to rapidly melt like candlewax, shifting into a mass of slimy tentacles and teeth.  Risai cried out in surprise, but was already too close, the tentacles striking out to seize her, wrapping tightly around her limbs and body.  Even Gresilda screamed in startlement, having not expected the mimic. 

Already suspecting such a thing, I was the first to respond, quickly chanting a spell to call forth slicing blades of fire upon the monster.  Careful to avoid Risai, I targeted the central mass and largest tentacles, getting a satisfying screech from the creature as it panicked and released Risai for the moment, the large warrior stumbling backward as fast as possible.  With the creature’s ire upon me, the flames quickly dying upon its singed flesh, I danced around its flailing tentacles as Gresilda chanted a prayer to Erisaya.  A moment later, holy fire spewed downward from the heavens upon the mimic, making it scream as its flesh boiled and melted, though it still had fight in it.  Risai snatched the blade from the real weapon rack and snarled a battle cry as she hurtled back into the mass, slicing smoking tentacles easily with the ancient blade, her strikes leaving burning cuts across the creature, before driving its tip deeply into the creature’s central mass, again and again until the mimic stopped moving.

Taking a few moments to recover, Gresilda healing the scrapes Risai had from her close encounter with the tentacles, I threw weaker fire upon the other weapon racks and stone benches, but thankfully found no other mimics hiding within.  That one was either young or perhaps sickly from a lack of food, for it seemed to have died rather easily in comparison to what I’ve read of them.  Of course, those stories could have simply made the encounters seem much more deadly than they really were.  Regardless, now that we had a few moments, I examined the weapons we had collected, and soon determined they were dragon-blown steel, attuned to the element of fire.  The other weapons we retrieved were of similar make and would prove quite useful, if not extremely valuable, upon our return to the party.

The rest of the “dungeon” was not nearly as exciting, for we found the remnants of the mimic’s past victims, a handful of humanoids, but mostly animals, in the next chambers, and found another pathway that led upward.  Soon enough, we had located a partially collapsed exit from the ancient draconic structure, but we were able to shift the fallen rock around enough for us to squeeze through.  The night was deep by now, morning approaching, though we had little trouble seeing due to the fires in the nearby bandit camp.  It didn’t take us long to hear panicked screams departing into the woods, and soon enough we were reunited with the rest of our party, who had managed a most deadly attack upon the bandits whilst we made our way through the dungeons.

There was a bounty on them, but we were days away from Vindinium, so did not immediately collect.  Shassk handled the grim business of collecting the heads, which he stored in a sack dedicated to just such a purpose, its enchantment making the load lighter while also preserving them.  With dawn approaching, we collected our missing gear and stowed the dragon-blown weapons that we weren’t immediately using, redressed ourselves, and headed off back toward the course we had originally been upon. 

#Lore24 – Entry #70 – Fantasy Month #10 – Dragon-blown Glass and Metal

 

From the journal of Angeliqua “Goldeneyes” Cartacustos:

 

Ah, a lovely topic today, for I rarely have cause to delve into the arts, for certainly the dragon-blown crafts of the kobolds are certainly art.  I say of the kobolds, but the nature of dragon-blown glasses and metals are, as the name suggests, originally the domain of the ancient dragons themselves, preserved through the ages by their dedicated servants who remained after they vanished from the world.

Though many would proclaim the dwarven smiths to be the best craftsmen around, a strong case exists for the kobold master artisans to be considered equals in such praises.  Though far rarer than dwarven craftsmen, the kobolds’ draconic heritage grants them quite a unique advantage when working with certain materials, namely metal and glass.  I can only surmise as to the truth of the matter, but the general enmity that exists between dwarves and kobolds, at least those within and around the Empire, may have its origins in the ongoing argument over who can craft better weapons and armor; the kobold master glassmakers have a decided lead in that area, while the dwarves remain the best stonemasons upon the face of Andyllion. 

Kobolds, by their very nature, are capable of a very limited form of draconic breath, the nature of which is determined by their particular draconic heritage, and they have adapted the draconic method of crafting using that breath in their work.  The masters of the art have trained themselves to such a degree as to have a much greater and more potent form of breath than the average kobold and exhibit a much more finely-tuned control of that breath, using it to alter the very makeup of the material which they are crafting.  Though one would assume a fiery breath is used, any form of kobold breath can be adapted using their secret techniques, from icy cold, to acid, to lightning and even the rarer variations, each having a unique effect upon the items crafted, which will inherit some of the elemental nature of the breath that forged them.

As to the nature of dragon-blown glass, it is exceptionally more resilient than standard glassware, able to survive drops of several feet without chipping or breaking, lasting for many centuries and having been known to survive even shipwrecks and collapsing buildings in some cases.  Further, depending on the nature of the breath that forged the item, it will maintain an essence of that breath, and display unique properties.  A dragon-blown teapot crafted using a fiery breath, for example, will keep its contents piping hot for hours, whereas a carafe blown by a cold breath will keep its contents cool for hours, even in the heat of a desert environment.  Many of the most rare and delicate arcane ingredients are stored in dragon-blown bottles and jars, and the best arcanists use dragon-blown alchemical equipment.

When it comes to dragon-blown metals, standard iron and steel weapons tend to retain elemental properties of the breath that forged them, meaning that they will either resist that particular element in the case of armor or a shield, or produce an elemental effect upon a strike from the weapon (a wound caused by a weapon blown by an acidic breath would cause an acidic burn upon the flesh, for example), making these weapons highly sought after when dealing with the likes of trolls and other rapidly healing creatures, or those that have an elemental aspect to their nature, or in areas where magic is unreliable or nullified.  When used upon other metals, such as mythril, the effects are heightened, or may be entirely different depending on the nature of the forge, and the metal is generally made more resistant to damage and erosion.  It is not unheard of for multiple kobold master smiths to combine their efforts into single items of great power, blending or altering the effects of their breaths in astounding ways.  Supposedly one of the armors favored by the Emperor himself was forged by kobold smiths centuries ago.

I should also note that some examples of true dragon-blown glasses and metals still exist, but are exceptionally rare and worth kingdoms, basically priceless.  Though likely never to see the light of day again, the Emperor is known to have at least three examples of these crafts within his personal collection, handed down from the very start of the Empire.  Rumors abound that one can still find such treasures hidden within the Dragontail Isles, but the ancient magics still keep explorers away from the archipelago, aside from the Tip of the Tail, a small island commonly called Cypress Isle due to the abundance of such trees growing there.  If I’m not mistaken, there are also examples of such ancient crafts found across the seas, held within the city of Arcavarlon.