Gutter Rat's Gambit - Chapter 3 - The Embered Wilds

Walking through any of the three forests in Sylvandor at night was never a good idea and yet here I was walking through one.  The worst one of them all – the Embered Wilds.  At night the forest came alive with all manner of magical creatures and none more so than the very forest I walked through now.  The humans that controlled the area had hunted most of the smaller woodland creatures into hiding or extinction, leaving the bigger meaner animals to roam free.  That meant that I was more likely to come across a dire wolf or hawk than its smaller, less terrifying cousin.  Given my small stature, I was a healthy meal for any animal larger than me.  If you survived the wild animals your next battle was with the fey creatures.  As a halfling I had a friendly relationship with most fey, but they are known pranksters.  Even if they were cordial, you couldn’t trust them not to rob you blind.  So, you have to keep your wits about you when traveling through the forest.

The Embered Wilds was named for its blackened tree trunks and colorful canopy.  During Harvestrise the leaves would turn from emerald green to vibrant hues of orange, red and yellow, making the tree canopy look as if it were set aflame.  It was a rather fitting name, too, given the legend that a bronze dragon lived within these woods.  Most humans seem to think all dragons breathe fire.  They’d be wrong. Bronze dragons don’t spew fire.  They actually emit a vile gas from their mouths that causes those enveloped in it to flee wildly while in a strange stupor.

You may be asking how I know so much about dragons.  Well, you see, they taught me quite a lot at the temple.  I was well-versed in languages and learned several of them during my time there.  My favorite was Draconic.  I can read it well enough, but to speak it is another thing altogether.  The guttural sounds a dragon makes are hard for humans or halflings to replicate.  In fact, my favorite book (one of the ones I stole) was a complete encyclopedia on dragons.  It is quite heavy to lug around with me, but the knowledge it contains is worth its weight in gold.  If I ever run across a dragon, I’ll be well prepared.

Anyway, so there I was, walking along the winding road through the dark forest along the western edge of the loch.  I could just see the moonlight reflecting off of the surface of the water through the dense trees, as I walked as quietly as possible and listened for predators.  As I rounded a bend in the road I came upon an overturned cart and slaughtered horse.  Upon closer inspection so too was the driver – his neck sliced from ear to ear.

 Bandits.

This too was a threat in the forests.  Bandit camps were unfortunately scattered about and definitely should be avoided by travelers.  I took this as an opportunity to stock up on supplies, however – what few supplies remained from the bandit's raid.  I packed a stale loaf of bread and a few jars of jam in my pack and continued my way, now wary of the bandits who must still be somewhere along these roads.  I just hoped my luck and nimbleness would get the better of them, and I could sneak by unscathed.  Given my small size and the even smaller knife at my belt, I’m not much of a fighter.  I’d rather talk my way out of a situation than draw blood, as blood feuds can be quite precarious for all involved.  

I heard a noise up ahead and quickly hid behind a bush.  I peered through the leaves and saw a couple of the bandits in front of me, obviously lugging the loot back to their camp.  The biggest one of them was carrying a chest on his right shoulder as he talked in a hoarse whisper to the man next to him.  That man appeared to be scanning the road behind them occasionally, though he hadn’t seen me.  I waited for them to walk ahead and I slowly followed behind, eventually coming to a spot near their camp where lookouts were stationed along either side of the road.  There were two of them standing guard hidden in the trees.  Or so they thought, since I saw them almost immediately from where I was.  I took a deep breath, lowered myself to the ground and crawled past them just behind a conveniently long row of bushes – trying not to rustle the leaves or snap a fallen branch.  Luckily, I made it past without getting caught and continued down the road.

I was now able to walk upright, but a low thick fog had appeared in the road ahead. While it would help to obscure me from more bandits, it would also keep me from seeing very far ahead.  I slowed my pace and kept quiet.  I soon came upon the northern edge of Boeffin’s Loch, which was named after the old lady who lived on the island in the center.  She was rumored to be a witch and lived alone out there. Seeing the loch meant only one thing – I was close to Shimmerbottom.  I had avoided the bandits and my journey was almost over. As I peered at the loch through the thick fog, I caught sight of something in the deep water out near the island. A sleek, sinuous shape slunk quickly beneath the surface.  

Could it be?

Moments later, a massive creature burst forth in a spiraling arc of bronze and teal, shimmering under the light of the now visible full moon.  

Why, yes it was!

Just as the legend foretold, a bronze dragon was swimming in the loch!  And it was clearly enjoying itself. What a rare sight indeed.  I stopped in my tracks and watched for several moments in awe of the spectacle.  With gleaming scales like burnished copper, dappled with turquoise highlights, the dragon coiled through the water in tight loops and rolls, sending up playful sprays.  Its massive wings, webbed for swimming, fanned out beneath the surface like a manta ray’s fins, propelling it forward with grace and speed.  Occasionally it dove deep, only to erupt a few heartbeats later in a geyser of water and laughter – yes, laughter – a deep rumbling sound that vibrated across the loch.  Nearby fish leapt in panic, but the dragon paid them no mind – it’s not hunting, only playing!  I made a mental note though not to get on its bad side, for I’m sure I would be quite a tasty snack to a dragon.

As if it heard my thoughts, the dragon paused mid-swim and turned its massive golden eyes in my direction.  It stared – and I stared back.  Then the magnificent beast offered what could only be described as a toothy, mischievous grin before sending a mighty splash skyward and diving deep into the loch’s center, disappearing again beneath its depths.

Although it was a beautiful beast and a once-in-a-lifetime experience, I must admit I did feel a huge sense of relief that it chose to flee instead of eating me.  It was at that moment, however, that I felt a small prick on the back of my neck – and not a prick of fear.  I reached around with my hand and pulled out a small dart.

Oh no.

While I had lingered on the road, someone had found me.  The world faded to black as I stumbled forward and landed face-first onto the ground.