Road Trip to the Dragon Isles - Ak-Tubal to Ak-Phan

12 Newkolt 349 AC

Arthur allows his guides to take the lead, following Altan and Davaa down the dirt streets of the city.

As the travelers ride, they pass a Green Dragonarmy patrol. The soldiers march with discipline, armor and boots polished, uniforms clean, their posture erect. Altan gives a short nod as he passes by the troops and one of soldiers, slightly older than the others, nods back, holding out a hand to signal a stop.

When the trooper speaks, his tone is professional, "Hail, travelers. Destination?"

"Just the Temür Steppe Lodge for now if they hsve rooms, sir, but we are bound for Khuri-Khan to visit my uncle," Davaa replies.

The soldiers nods, "Very well, be on your way. There is a curfew tonight, nobody on the street after the Eighth Bell."

"Understood. Thank you," the horseman says in turn.

A few blocks later, Altan leads the group to the lodge, an inn near the city gate with an enclosed paddock for horses. Made of the same sun-dried bricks as the city wall, the inn stands two floors high. The common room is small, with barely enough space for a half-dozen people at once.

Altan runs inside, emerging about a minute later, "No rooms left but we can sleep in the common room for two silver coins each," he begins, "And they have fresh oats for the horses."

Another group of soldiers passes by in the street. The leader of the squad's gaze lingers on Arthur and the others as they stand outside of the inn.

Arthur keeps calm. "We can do that or is there another place you know that we can get rooms?" He scratches the back of his head.

Altan and Davaa look at each other. "We could try Borto Chino?"

"Chimeg House?"

"I don't like their dumplings."

"Maral Lodge? They have good dumplings."

"They do. But, we are already here."

The guides both turn to Arthur. "You're paying for all of this. What do you think?"

"I think we would all be more comfortable with proper beds, a good night's sleep is worth the money so whatever nice place is close by, let's go."

"Maral Lodge?"

"Maral Lodge. I want those dumplings."

"Is there something wrong with my dumplings?"

"No. Theirs are just better."

".... That's fair."

Within minutes, Davaa has secured a pair of rooms at the Maral Lodge, the horses have been stabled, and the group is sitting down to dinner of rice, steamed vegetables, and some pork dumplings that are indeed better than the ones Altan made the night before.

Altan, meanwhile, went quickly to the market and bought some dried trout and a duck.

Davaa packs the bowl of his pipe, lights it with a taper from the hearth, and cracks open a window. He looks outside and frowns, "Altan, it's one of those creepy priests again...."

Outside, a man with the pale, white skin of a scholar who spends his time indoors, bent over musty tomes, is preaching in the street. His robes are black and a yellow sash is wrapped around his waist. Most Khurs pass him by without slowing but a small handful of the horse folk and a few soldiers stop and listen.

"You don’t have to decide right now.
In fact, it’s better if you don’t.
Most people think joining something like this happens all at once. A speech. A vow. A dramatic moment.
It doesn’t.
It happens the way sleep does—slow, gentle, and without asking permission.
We’re not looking for believers. Belief is loud and fragile.
We’re looking for people who are tired.
Tired of being told that endings give life meaning.
Tired of pretending you’re fine with disappearing.
Tired of watching everyone you love slowly practice leaving.
The other gods tell you to accept death.
Chemosh doesn't.
Because cause He’s honest. He doesn’t ask you to be good. He doesn’t ask you to be worthy.
He just asks you to stay.
When you accept Him, nothing dramatic happens at first.
That’s how you know it’s real.
You keep breathing.
Your heart keeps its rhythm.
But something subtle changes—like a door that used to be locked suddenly realizing it doesn’t have to be.
Time becomes negotiable.
Decay becomes optional.
Death stops feeling like a rule and starts feeling like a suggestion.
We don’t promise paradise. We promise continuation.
You don’t rise above humanity—you simply step outside of it.
And listen carefully: you are not trapped here.
People who are trapped don’t need convincing.
You can leave whenever you want.
It’s just that… once you’ve been seen by a god who refuses to let you end, leaving starts to feel unnecessary.
So don’t kneel. Don’t chant. Don’t swear anything.
Just listen.
Just keep coming back.
Immortality doesn’t begin with devotion.
It begins with curiosity."

The two Khurs frown. Davaa closes the window and shudders.

Arthur swallows his food and sniffs the air, trying to determine what Davaa is smoking. The pipeweed smells like tobacco with a hint of clove. "What is that man? And why does everyone for the most part avoid him?" He rubs his neck and leans slightly against Agnes.

Davaa peeks out the window again, "Don't know his name but this is the second one I've seen. They be showing up lately, claiming to be priests of Chemosh, god of the dead. Nobody likes them. Nobody likes a reminder that their time is limited. But, these men, the two I've seen, they say otherwise. They promise eternity but nobody, man or god gives that away without a catch."

Altan gets up and peers out over Davaa's shoulder. "More people listening this time though... war's got people worried and this promised eternity is another way of saying 'hope' if you ask me."

Arthur's breathing becomes a little faster. "$&@%@ necromancers, they have no idea what they are messing with." He grips his cup slightly harder "I've seen what the undead can do in person, we should leave by dawn's first light tomorrow."

Both of the Khurs agree. Davaa informs Arthur that he is going to go to the market to send a hawk to Batu, letting him know that all is well. Altan retires for the night, promising to ready the horses for departure first thing in the morning.

13 Newkolt 349 AC

At least two hours before the sun creeps into the sky, and another hour before it fully rises above the Khalkist Mountains, the party is on its way. It is painfully cold, with Arthur's armor "burning" his skin whenever it touches exposed flesh. Agnes, is seemingly unbothered by the sudden drop in temperature but she pretends to shiver whenever she notices someone watching. Davaa leads today, with Altan bringing up the rear. Green Dragonarmy soldiers at the gate ask for the group's destination, recording it in a logbook, along with the number of travelers and their names.

As the group continues to travel north, the wind tapers off almost entirely. The horses make good headway as there is almost no snow on the ground. The intense cold seems to have driven almost every living thing on the plains into hiding as none of the group sees any sign of life throughout the long day.

Davaa finally calls for a halt. He and Altan quickly set up the tent and head inside. Altan starts a fire and hangs his shallow shield-shaped cooking pan over it, adds oil, noodles, some of the smoked fish, and herbs with wild onions, stirring constantly.

Arthur goes to the tent and removes his armor and put on regular clothes. "When we get to the next town remind me to get fur lined clothes to wear under my armor." He sits next to the fire and looks for any possible frostbite. Agnes helps him remove his armor.

"I don't see anything too bad but you're right about finding something a bit more appropriate for the weather. The further north we go, the more the weather should improve, my love," Agnes whispers some words softly under her breath. Healing magic flows from her hands, seeping deep into Arthur's chilled muscles. The relief is immediate.

Davaa drapes extra blankets over the horses to protect them from the cold before coming inside.

14 Newkolt 349 AC

Before Davaa even opens the tent, Arthur can tell that this day is going to be much warmer than the one preceeding it. Altan makes breakfast while Davaa prepares the horses for travel. "We'll be in Ak-Phan tonight. Small town, maybe one-hundred people. Going to be sleeping in the tent again tonight. But, there shouldn't be any Green Army in town, that's good, right? I get the impression you don't get along with those guys, yeah?"

Arthur lets out a chuckle, "You could say that." He begins to get ready for the day. "Do these people take coin or do they take gemstone?" Arthur helps Agnes into her saddle before mounting his horse.

"Either is likely fine," Altan replies. "But they won't have much for sale. You'll have to wait until we reach the bazaar at Khuri-Khan if you want a decent selection."

The group gets underway, with Davaa breaking trail again. As the sun is finally beginning to crest over the mountains far to the west, Arthur catches a glimpse of golden scales skulking behind an outcropping of snow-covered stone. About twenty feet to the right of the first creature, he spots a leonine face. As his eyes scan the landscape, he is able to pick out just over a half-dozen scaly lions with large wings and claws spread out before them.

The rest of the group notices the monsters a moment later. Davaa and Altan quickly string their bows and swing out of their saddles. "We have to get pass them or backtrack about fifteen miles and travel along the beach."

Arthur places his hand on Lawbringer and moves forward slightly, "We mean no harm, we just seek to pass peacefully. Theres no need to shed unneeded blood." He keeps an eye on as many as he can.

Agnes slips out of her saddle, her feet landing lightly in the snow. "I don't think they can understand you, love. They mean to eat us, or at least the horses." She once again fake-chants in Draconic as she polymorphs into a powerful tiger and lets loose with a mighty roar.

The center beast roars in turn and the entire pride begins to rush forward, slowly for the first thirty or so feet before they break into a run, charging toward Arthur's small party.

Arthur digs his heels into his horse's ribs, urging it into a gallop. Lawbringer glows brightly in the shadows cast by the mountains. The weapon bursts into flames as he closes on the monster. The dragonne rears up on its hind legs, slashing with its claws but the knight turns the blow with his shield and delivers three rapid strikes with his sword, the second opening a deep slash just beneath the throat. The creature stumbles backwards, dropping back to all fours, blood streaming from its wounds.

Davaa turns, targeting the one to the far left and looses an arrow. His shot glances off of a scale-covered shoulder without effect.

Agnes, now clad in the form of a tiger barrels forward, leaping into the fray and landing atop the monster Davaa fired at. Her teeth sink into its neck, hot blood gushing forth as she clamps down. A twist of her body hauls the creature sideways and she begins raking with her claws, shredding its belly with each of her feet. The dragonne thrashes beneath her trying to escape but she holds fast and continues to savage the beast.

Altan fires a shot over Agnes' head and miraculously hits one of the brutes on the left flank. The arrow sinks into the shoulder joint of its right wing and the monster roars in pain.

End of Round One

Meanwhile, Arthur continues battling the four dragonnes arrayed against him. They try to encircle his horse, snapping at its heels and flanks, trying to force it to turn to face one, leaving it vulnerable to attacks from the other three, a tactic that had probably prevailed for them many times over the years.

But they hadn't counted on Arthur. Three more swift blows to his original opponent's head sent the beast crashing down into death.

Davaa scrambled back, dropping his bow and drawing his saber from its sheath as he moved. The dragonne stalked forward, teeth bared. He swiped with his blade but the creature taunted him, remaining just past his reach.

Agnes tore the throat from the dragonne she had pinned to the ground, ending its life before turning to savage her second attacker with her claws. Two sets of four-inch razors ripped effortlessly through the dragonne's scaly hide.

Altan moved to his right, drawing another arrow and firing it at the monster stalking his friend. This arrow hit the dragonne in its ribs but failed to punch through the thick scales.

Arthur's attackers came at him on three sides. He managed to keep his back to the snow-covered boulder and fended off almost all of their strikes but one set of claws made it through his defense, slamming the side of his head hard enough to make him see stars.

Agnes' enemy got similarly lucky, managing to sink its teeth into one of her hind legs.

A sudden rush from the final dragonne put it atop Davaa's chest. Teeth and claws began tearing into his body, spilling his blood all over the snow.

End of Round Two

Davaa's screams carried across the field. Arthur saw him being mauled, but trapped by his foes, he was forced to fight on. He attacked relentlessly, Lawbringer rising and falling as he slashed with the fiery blade and punched with the cross guard. He battered away at the lead beast, wounding it repeatedly.

Davaa wedged his saber between himself and his attacker but his arm was pinned down the monster's bulk, and he was trapped despite his efforts.

Agnes turns and rushes to Davaa's aid, ripping her leg free and bounding across the steppe. She pounces, sinking her claws into the dragonne's back and clamps her jaws on the back of its neck. She rakes away, tearing through scales and shredding flesh. The dragonne rears up on its hind legs, trying to shake her loose, but the tiger held on. Davaa rolled out from beneath the battle to avoid being crushed in their struggle.

Altan tooks aim at the wounded dragonne Agnes left behind when she rushed to save Davaa but he doesn’t lead his target enough and the arrow passes behind the beast.

Still beset on three sides, Arthur struggles to fend off his attackers, blocking with his shield and parrying with his blade, turning all but one attack aside. A single claw swipe gets through, striking sparks as it rakes across his thigh but he manages to protect his mount despite the determined efforts of the pride.

The dragonne Agnes wounded gives chase, pursuing her across the snowy field. It, too, slashes her with a single set of claws, slicing her flank and opening a shallow set of gashes.

End of Round Three

Arthur's eyes widen as he sees Agnes get struck and he lets out a shout so loud it hurts his throat. He calls out to Malazzarr, casting defiance in the faces of the dragonnes, knowing that his god does not yet exist in this world.

Two swift blows lay his first remaining opponent low and a third slash catches the second in the forehead, spilling blood into its eyes.

Agnes sinks her claws into the back of the dragonne she is wrestling with and squeezes her jaws shut. There is a loud CRACK as she splinters the monster's spine. It goes limp beneath her, collapsing to the ground. She then rounds on her previous opponent and roars a challenge, blood dripping from her teeth.

Davaa crawls further from the battling tiger and dragonne. He staggers to his feet and raises his sword. Altan rushes to his aid, slipping his friend's arm over his shoulder and helps him over to the horses.

The dragonne with blood streaming into its eyes roars at Arthur. Once again, the paladin feels the magical weight of the bellow but shrugs off the mystic assault easily and blocks every attack of his second remaining foe.

The final dragonne and Agnes circle each other, both searching for an opening. The dragonne charges, slashing with its claws and biting with razor-sharp fangs. Agnes nimbly avoids the assault, plants her feet and leaps at her foe.

End of Round Four

Arthur blocks out the pain and keeps up his assault as he glances over to see if Davaa's wounds are live threatening. A swift uppercut blow from the flaming holy blade causes the bloody-faced dragonne to raise its head, giving Arthur the chance to hew through its neck, decapitating the brute.

Agnes lands atop her final attacker, making short work of it with slashing jaws and gnashing teeth. She throws a quick look in Arthur's direction and sees that he is holding his own. She resumes her human form and makes her way over to Davaa and Altan, words of magic already forming on her lips.

The final dragonne faces off against the First Paladin of Malazzar. It rushes in but every swipe of its claws, the crash of its teeth are turned aside by shield and blocked by armor.

End of Round Five

Arthur swings at the last beast, strike after strike. "Just die already," he yells, his voice hoarse. Three powerful strikes and the final dragonne falls.

Agnes begins chanting softly in Draconic and lays her hands upon Davaa. Energy flows through her and into the Khur's battered body, mending his wounds and easing his pain.

Davaa looks at her like a man seeing his first sunrise. "That...how did you..?" His voice, filled with awe, trails off. Altan's jaw drops, hanging open. "Healing magic. But that comes from the gods. How did you do that?"

Arthur uses his heels, digging into the horse to race back to the group. He hops off, rushing to check on Agnes, then Davaa and Altan. "Is everyone alright?"

Davaa drops to one knee, "Agnes, I can't thank you enough. If there is anything I can do for you, just ask. I am yours to command.".

"She healed him..." Altan murmurs softly. "That shouldn't be possible. The gods, they left us."

Agnes places a hand on the horseman's shoulder, "No, Altan. The gods didn't leave. We turned our backs on them. We made demands that would have upset the balance between Good and Evil and when the gods punished us for our arrogance, we ran off to sulk like defiant children and stopped listening to what they had to tell us. The gods are out there, waiting for US to come back to them."

Arthur helps Davaa up. "Altan, we are alive, that's the most important thing right now. Let's take what we can from these creatures and make our way to the village." He hugs Agnes and kisses her forehead. "I'm glad you are safe, love." He lets go reluctantly and begins to scavenge what he can from the creatures.

The group manages to pull the primary canines and several claws from each of the dragonnes before moving on, and a few hours later, the four travelers ride into Ak-Phan. 

Meanwhile, back in Ak-Krin...

Davaa's messenger hawk is brought before Batu. The Khan removes the scroll from the case on the bird's back, his eyes scanning the page.

When he finishes, he brings his hand up to stroke his chin, "Very interesting. Very interesting, indeed."

Batu crosses over to the far side of his tent and pens a short letter. He rolls the message, seals it with wax, and attaches that message to a different bird, which he carries outside. "They came from the south. They had to have passed through Pashin and the warrior was injured. He fought someone. Fly there, my pet. Find me that someone."