The Performateers had cleaned out the remainder of the kobolds in the ruined hall, with their chieftain falling to Lucan’s blade. The party rallied around, dressed their wounds and took a long breath. Its wasn’t long, however, until aelA got that golden twinkle in his eye, and he made the move to look around the tomb for a little something interesting.
The rest of the crew soon followed suit, and after a bit of scrounging, came up with a tidy bag of gold, along with the chieftain’s magical war staff. Abra-Ka-Daniel quickly took a shine to this arcane item. One piece that did have the team baffled was a small, crudely cut key. With no obvious use, the party searched around, and after a little effort discovered a hidden passage at the back of the burial chamber.
The passageway soon turned from the hewn stone of the keep to a rough, natural formation. Frost was clinging to the stone as the party descended into the depths. Their breath was clearly visible now as the temperature dropped as well, quicker than there dungeoneering sense told them is natural for a cave such as this. Rounding a corner the passageway the party came upon a large chamber, covered in snow and ice, and harbouring the reason for the cold climes. Szartharrax, a young white dragon had taken up residence in the bowels of the keep. It now became clear what had been pushing the kobolds to such aggressiveness on the king’s road.
The dragon, not suffering intruders into his den, bathed the group in an icy blast. Shards of frozen needles raked the Performateers. They quickly scattered, not wanting to give the frigid beast another such opportunity. They fanned out, trying to outflank Szartharrax. The dragon whirled and snapped at whomever came near, great fangs like blue daggers slashing left and right.
The Performateers used the natural formations of the cave to keep the dragon off balance. They darted in and out of the stalagmites, hitting hard and falling back to cover. Arrows flew, fireballs exploded, and sword and dagger found their mark.
As fearsome as the dragon was, Szartharrax was still a juvenile. He may have been able to scare the kobolds into doing his bidding, but when it came to facing down a screaming goliath wielding a two handed axe, the dragon proved to be the lesser. Susan brought his weapon down in an overhand chop, cleaving the dragon’s head from his body. Blue blood spilled forth, and froze as it hit the ground. The Performateers backed away as the dragon’s body gave its final death throws, then lay still.