Mourning

Hyrsam, The Satyr Prince of the Archfey was having his usual late breakfast with a bevy of 5 nubile Wood Elf followers when he felt a distinct uneasiness.  ‘Oh, not Al.’ he said.  ‘I’m sorry my dears, we must cut breakfast short.  I need to go mourn the death of one of my followers.’

It was easy to find the cave.  The smell of his spells and the splatter of glitter was still in the air.

Hyrsam took a silver bowl from his waist pouch, dipped it in the stream exiting the cave, and said the incantation.  His scrying bowl showed him the battle where his little Gnome died.  ‘The kid had style.’ He said as the bowl showed Al obliterate the Goblin Leader in that dank cave.  Bad luck all around.  Why did that Paladin and that Bard use thunderous spells in a cave network like that?  Did they want to die?

Al did die a hero’s death and was true to his patron in the end.

Hyrsam was sad.  He said a prayer over the cave and set a ward that he thought Al would appreciate.

‘I better inform Palarandusk.’

Palarandusk (the Unseen Protector, previously the Sun Dragon) is a male gold dragon who lives in the Sword Mountains on the Sword Coast North. He is a great wyrm. Each time he kills, he weeps. He watches over the village of Ieirithymbul, regarding its gnome inhabitants as his children. He has prevented the invasion of the Clan Forgebar dwarves three times. He prefers to spend his time watching the gnomes and making sure they come to no harm.

One of his favorite Gnomes, was Annikko, or Al as he liked to be called.  Al was a novice Warlock who happened upon Hyrsam of all beings as his patron.  That amused the Legendary dragon to no end, that one of his Gnomes would take to support the Feywyld.  Al was a dreamer and belonged in the world outside of leirithymbul, so Palarandusk sent him to Neverwinter in order to seek his place in the universe.

‘To what do I owe this visit Hyrsam?’ Palarandusk said in a low gravely tone.

‘My old friend.  I bring disturbing news.’ Hyrsam said and continued to relay the story of Al’s death.

‘Oh that foolish child.’ Palarandusk cried.  ‘Why would he ally himself with such inexperienced adventurers?  They seriously pulled the entire cave network to one poorly lit room with those thunder spells?’  Palarandusk shook his head.

‘Thank you old friend.  Please leave me to grieve.  Yes, he did honor his patron.  I’ll have to tell his parents.  That won’t be fun.’

With that Hyrsam took his leave of the ancient Gold Dragon.

‘It is with great sadness that I must inform you of the death of your son, Annikko Ardabadkin.’ The old Gnome said to Al’s parents.  In fact, the old Gnome was Parlarandusk in disguise.  ‘He was killed protecting a group of Gnomes from a pack of Dwarven marauders to the East.’  Yes, a lie, but he wanted to fluff up Al’s heroism.  ‘Here’s 500 gold as a small thank you for Annikko’s heroism exhibited to our people.’

The old Gnome handed Al’s parents a pouch of gold from his hoard, a small thing really, but it may give them some solace.

With that task addressed, Parlarandusk needed to do something he hasn’t done in many years, venture out into the world.  The Legendary Gold Dragon took flight and headed West to the cave where his friend had fallen.

It was exactly as the Satyr Prince had said.  He must be getting old.  He forgot that whole part about Hyrsam warding the cave. When the dragon entered the cave, he was covered in a shower of sparkly glitter.  That produced a chuckle.  'That won't come off without a spell.' He muttered.  Parlarandusk whispered an incantation and the glitter fell off his form.

The legendary gold dragon surveyed the cave network and let out a thunderous cry, a cry of sorrow that could be herd for miles.  He then proceeded to purify the caves in fire.  Any evidence of goblins, wolves or bugbears are now black dust.  He left the ward intact.  A fitting tribute to his friend.

On his way home he flew low over the caravan that was Al’s former companions.  They don’t look like total idiots, even if they have a stinking Dwarf in their party.  Perhaps I can help.

Upon return to his home in Ieirithymbul, Parlarandusk sent word to the Draconic Brotherhood, an organization aimed at helping the good dragonkin, for some help.  The next day, a young Brass Dragonborn Sorcerer showed up.

‘I hear that you required someone to help out with a quest?’ Arlin said.  As long as it’s not in Neverwinter, I’m your Sorcerer.

Parlarandusk gave Arlin a map of the area and showed the young Sorcerer where to go.  ‘Be careful.  They are inexperienced but not totally inept.  They should help further your skills as well.  Help them with their quest.  I would love to hear more of your story, but you need to get going if you want to catch up with them.  Write your story down and send it to me.  You seem a good kid.’  Parlarandusk said with a smile as he tossed the sorcerer a pouch of gold and sent him on his way.