The cave was small, cold, and dirty, nothing at all like the dragon dens in the stories. Of course, Shakairra had only ever heard about the mighty ancient dragons who sacked entire cities in an hour and required whole armies to kill them (if they were tyrannical) or led kingdoms through the millennia of peace and prosperity (if they were benevolent). They had to start somewhere, and a damp cave on the edge of Netheril is a good place to start.
Her fist tightened around the pole with a white cotton shirt tied on the edge of it in a knot. Quarrel-Karn had grudgingly produced it for her, then had unsheathed his blade and led the party into the cave with his glowing sword. Shakairra didn't object because it was their only light source and a lot better than a torch. And she was more comfortable having him next to her with a sword if she and the others were going in with weapons down (the exception being Elkvein, who used her staff as a walking stick). She would've been a lot more comfortable holding her trident instead of the branch they'd found outside the cave, but this was a peace mission. She could only hope the dragon would respect that.
patta patta patta patta
Rain pulled out her hammer from the holster on her back; her shield was already strapped to her arm. "That is no dragon."
patta patta patta patta
The sound of light, rapid footsteps swelled, and soon everyone had weapons drawn. Shakairra dropped the flag and drew her trident, but had no time to strap on her shield before it jumped on top of Rain's.
She threw herself down, squishing the beast between her shield and the ground. There was a hissssss, Rain growled and rolled, leaving the shield behind as it deteriorated into a pile of rust. The monster hopped back on its many legs. It looked like an oversized beetle, about the size of a man's torso, with many, many teeth in its little mouth and spores covering its rock-like stomach.
"Rust monster," Quarrel-Karn identified. "I'm not hitting that."
Shakairra didn't blame him; she didn't want to sacrifice her trident for a killing blow, either. "That's why we have spellcasters. Gundar, Elkvein."
Lightning and radiant light made quick work of the rust monster. Rain poked the pile of rust with her foot and sighed. "That shield was a gift from my tribe."
"Would you like mine?" Shakairra offered. "I can use both hands on the trident."
Rain shook her head. "No, I have the wild to protect me. And Quarrel-Karn."
"Ah, who's really pushing for dragonslaying," he called from around the corner.
Shakairra put her trident back, picked up the flag, and hurried over to see the corpse of one of the humans sprawled out behind a pile of rocks. His sword was in his hand, unbloodied, and there were deep gashes across his back that had ripped through cloth and scales and flesh as if they were cotton.
"Could the rust monster have done this?" Shakairra asked, hoping against hope.
Rain knelt beside the body and shook her head. "No, these wounds are too large and..."
An ear-splitting roar that echoed off of walls blended with a scream of agony cut her off. The five of them ran deeper into the cave, the light of Quarrel-Karn's sword bouncing against the walls until they burst into a large chamber.
The dragon did not disappoint, even though he had been larger in Shakairra's imagination. One of the chromatic dragons, his scales lacked the shiny luster of his metallic (and often benevolent) cousins, but the indigo scales still made him look like royalty as a thick arm of lightning shot out of his mouth, slamming into the elf archer. She screamed, and when she hit the ground did not move again.
The dragonborn was sprawled on the ground just a few feet from the party. As the dragon focused on the shadar-kai wizard and human swordsman, Shakairra took Gundar and Rain with her as they inched their way to the body, leaving the volatile Quarrel-Karn to guard Elkvein. Even though moonlight streamed from an opening in the cave above, he did not sheath his sword.
Blue dragons, blue dragons, what do I know about blue dragons? Shakairra thought as Gundar checked for a pulse and nodded. All dragons have vanity issues and tend to love treasure. Blue dragons usually live in deserts...we are in Netheril. This one is too small to be an adult but too large to be juvenile, so in that middle range several centuries old. Lightning breath weapon. Speaks Draconic and probably (hopefully) Common. Good liars, though not as much as green dragons...
The wounded dragonborn looked like he'd been chomped on, deep teeth marks riddling his chest and back. Gundar began his prayers as Rain's eyes glowed green with the wounds. Shakairra then made the classic mistake of turning her back on the monster in the room.
Gundar's pale eyes widened as harsh claws slammed on either side of Shakairra so hard the ground shook. She cringed and very slowly turned around. "...hello..."
The dragon eyed the white flag with narrow, reptilian eyes. "A curious group of medics."
"We're just passing through," Shakairra explained. Sparky, don't do anything stupid. Sparky, don't do anything stupid. Shakairra, don't do anything stupid. "We were hoping to save what lives we could, either by healing wounds or convincing survivors not to do anything stupid," she stressed, looking past the dragon at the wizard, who was helping the human to his feet. He must've gotten thrown back by a claw or something.
"How do I know you don't mean to join this group of 'dragonslayers'?" He spat the word out like it was poison.
"Because we're not idiots."
She thought she saw a glimmer of amusement in the dragon's eyes. "You are passing through. To where?"
"The castle just half a day's ride from here. We're investigating a ring of black market traders and hope to destroy it."
His eyes narrowed. "You say you are not dragonslayers, yet you travel to the castle to destroy what is there?"
Shakairra winced. "Why, is there a dragon there?"
"There are two."
"T-Two?!"
Quarrel-Karn whooped.
Shakairra cast him a glare as he grinned. "Two evil dragons helping with the slave trade? Come on! Double the glory, double the loot, and get rid of twice as much evil. Ooh, it's Midsummer!"
"I wouldn't put fighting two dragons in the same league as a huge festival," Shakairra groaned.
"You won't have to," the dragon continued. "One of them is my son, a wyrmling, who has been taken captive by my brother."
Shakairra paused, at a loss for words. Rain filled in for her as the dragonborn groaned back to life. "Your brother is at the castle and your son is his hostage?"
"Simply put, yes."
Shakairra leaned on her stick. "Well, that makes it so much easier-oh, wait, no it doesn't!"
"If you are concerned I will stop you, let me dispel that misunde-"
The human's war cry cut the dragon off as he charged with his sword. The blue dragon whipped around as Shakairra brought out her trident and threw it at the human's legs. The prongs embedded themselves in his knee as his rallying cry turned into screams and he fell face-first in front of the dragon.
The shadar-kai looked up at Shakairra furiously as the tiefling scurried around the dragon, picked up the human's good foot, and started dragging him away. "What are you doing?!"
"Saving your stupid friend's life," Shakairra grumbled as he feebly waved his sword at her. Ach, I need to placate the wizard and get more information out of the dragon without getting them to kill each other. Luruar's looking better each passing minute. "Sparky, a little help?"
"We don't need your help!" the wizard declared, gripping her wand with white knuckles.
"Really? Because when we arrived it looked like you were all in very bad shape. Your archer's dead, as is the other swordsman, and your dragonborn is clinging to life. Now, I'm annoyed to find I have enough of a conscience to stick my neck out for you people. Don't make me regret it." She grabbed her trident as Quarrel-Karn took the foot of the man and yanked it out of his knee, ignoring his wails as she turned back to the dragon. "I apologize. You were saying something about not being offended if we killed your brother?"
The dragon crouched until his stomach barely brushed against the floor, but not until Shakairra saw the blood leaking down his scales. So someone scored a hit on him, eh? "I had a lair to the east. My brother has ruled in the ruined castle, but our relationship has always been...difficult, even with distance. Several months ago he led a small army, much like yourselves, to my lair, stealing my hoard and my son and destroying my home. That is why I am here. But this tumble has surely caught his attention. Should he see me before I am ready, my son's life is forfeit."
"But if we were to go ahead of you, we either kill your brother and save your son or die a valiant death. Either way, you win."
"Cunning tiefling. You wound me with your mistrust."
"You don't get far with an open heart these days." She jerked her thumb at Elkvein.
The drow took that moment to step forward. "Why should we save your son? If we successfully kill one dragon surely we can kill another? Especially a wyrmling."
"My brother is a rather crafty character. Unlike most dragons, he does not keep his hoard in one convenient location. You will most likely find his lesser hoard, one of many gold pieces and gems. The true prizes as well as my own hoard will lie elsewhere. Spare the life of my son, and I will help you find the entirety of my brother's hoard as well as some...lesser...assets of my own." The dragon loomed over Shakairra. "But before you go anywhere, you are trespassing on my new territory. Such an act requires a fee in either blood or gold."
Before Shakairra could offer anything, Rain threw a large bag at the dragon's claws. "Here you go. Three hundred and fifty gold pieces and a couple rubies worth more."
Shakairra stared at Rain as the dragon lifted the lip of the bag with his claw. "That is sufficient for all of you." He tossed it in the air and swallowed it whole with a loud gulp.
Rain noticed the stares and frowned. "I've been adventuring for quite some time. You don't just teleport from Elfharrow to Loudwater."
And you save quite a bit of money when you sleep outdoors and hunt your own breakfast. Shakairra turned back to the dragon, who was studying Rain. "Here I was thinking you were a paladin."
Rain stood, leaving the dragonborn and her hammer on the ground. "I do not draw power from big men in the sky."
"No, your power lies in plants and dead people rotting in the earth."
Rain narrowed her golden eyes as Shakairra sucked in a breath.
The dragon laughed. "Do I offend you, warden?"
"Quite a bit, yes," she growled, showing her canine teeth.
"I would offend you much more if you were a paladin. That kind has been tormenting my own for centuries. Yet you are a relatively new creature." The dragon took a step forward for a closer leer. "Tell me, warden. What brings you on this quest?"
"Dead people rotting in the ground."
The dragon laughed yet again, harsh and relentless, as Shakairra cringed. "And what, pray tell, is a warden doing without her shield?"
"I had a shield; a very nice, thick shield given to me by the ancestors of my village. Your monster at the gate reduced it to a pile of rust."
Easy, Rain, Shakairra silently pleaded.
The dragon pulled back. "I understand it is difficult to trust the word of a dragon of my stature, so I will give you a small token of agreement that will help keep you alive long enough to rescue my son." The dragon hawked and spat something big and dark at Rain's feet. She knelt, brushed some of the spittle away, and revealed a large, black shield with the emblem of a cobra with bat wings emblazoned upon it. It was oval-shaped, made of wood and animal hide and framed with iron, the snake sewed on with beads made of colored bones. This close to it, Shakairra felt a tingling in her fingers.
All tensity drained from Rain as she smiled. "This is perfect!"
"A flying cobra," Gundar observed. "Is that your emblem, dragon?"
"In a sense," the dragon replied. "It was the primitive people's way of depicting dragons, before more civilized artists learned to paint us properly."
Nice insult, jackass, Shakairra thought, though Rain seemed oblivious to the slight.
The dragon continued: "That shield is something on the order of eight thousand years old, yet its magic will keep it for another eight thousand."
"This is...just...perfect!" Rain strapped it to her arm, admiring its weight. "Thank you so much!"
The dragon began to walk out of the cave, forcing Quarrel-Karn, the wounded human, and Elkvein aside. "Send me a signal when my son is safe. A black smoke, perhaps."
"You won't miss it," Elkvein called after him.
When it was just humanoids in the cave Shakairra yanked the white shirt off of the stick and tossed it to Quarrel-Karn, a difficult task with her shaking hands.
"Does the prospect of slaying a dragon frighten you so much?" Gundar asked as the dragonborn blinked.
"No, it's only nerves from this encounter." She wiped the sweat from her palms and turned to the wizard. "If you and your surviving friends still wish to make a name for yourselves as adult dragonslayers, you're more than welcome to come with us."
The shadar-kai spat in her face.
Shakairra wiped off the spittle, a common hazard on her face. "You're welcome."