Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 41 Pt. 2

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 08/26/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 41 Pt. 2

This part of this week’s tale begins as the machinations of Sylverfang and the cult are brought into the light.

Everything had been going according to plan for Sylthion and her mate Zythera. Days prior, the mysterious Sylverfang had appeared before her, coming with a proposition that would rid the faith and the ghostly dragon of the Slayer.

The dragon, Myrathion, had been posed to strike the Slayer from the shadows and separate him from his group, which he had done perfectly with little coercion. Sylverfang would then separate the little kobold from the Slayer’s group, wreaking its vengeance in the process. Knowing the little kobold would choose to save its own hive over its own allies, Sylverfang would infest and threaten the hive’s queen. Finally, once things had appeared as if the tide of the battle could go either way, Sylthion and her mate would strike the healer and the vampire.

They had not anticipated the vampire’s absence, which had been a pleasant surprise after hearing reports from Azrakar Stormrender about his duel with the vampire. Azrakar had mentioned that the vampire was neither honorable, nor particularly enjoyable to fight.

Sylthion gave the signal to Zythera. The two had positioned themselves on either side of Myrathion’s Sanctum where they would wait to strike.

Zythera had kept low to the ground and in the shadows, but seeing Sylthion’s signal from across the sanctum, she crept around the corner of the Sinistral Hall. Out in the open she spotted the Slayer’s healer. He stood on the ground beneath Myrathion with his hand up, actively healing the wounds of the Slayer above.

She peered up at Myrathion and the Slayer. Judging by the duration of Myrathion’s roars, the healer had managed to keep the Slayer intact while it battled the dragon, but she would see that it would not continue.

While Alonzo was focused entirely on healing Prinze, he failed to notice as Zythera Nightfang closed the distance between the Sinistral Hall and himself. She crept up behind him, then Myrathion became still for but a moment, noticing the Justiciar about to strike.

In an instant, Zythera stabbed her dagger into Alonzo’s neck, narrowly missing his spinal cord. She followed up with a second strike, driving her second dagger into his side.

Blood began to pour from Alonzo’s neck and side as he let out a pained cry. He tried to turn his neck, but the dagger that was being drawn from him prevented the movement. His vision then began to become unsteady, waving in and out as, from the shadows, Sylthion Verdantspire wove an enchantment over him. Protected by the magics of his lance, Alonzo managed to shake off the hypnosis and turned to face his assailant.

Zythera Nighfang was a draconian, not unlike Prinze, being green of scale, but she was far more lithe in appearance. Clad in verdant leathers, and wielding a pair of wicked daggers that dripped with venom, she crouched low and snarled at Alonzo as he turned to behold her.

At that same moment, Allistair had begun to twirl his short sword and shadow blade. With a quick flick, the short sword ignited in bright flames, quickly turning the blade white with heat. He began to run towards the edge of the skyland, turning just as he leapt off. A moment later he weaved the magics for a teleportation spell and soon found himself landing nimbly on the floor between Beezul’s hive and the stairwell.

Allistair took a moment to assess the situation he had just teleported into. Beezul’s hive sat unattended, a green draconian crouched before Alonzo, and Prinze was elevated nearly sixty feet up in the mouth of a massive dragon, being shaken like a rag doll.

Seeing the new arrival onto the battlefield, Sylthion Verdantspire began to weave an enchantment in the air before her, casting it out over Allistair. Taking a few steps forward to capitalize on the, soon to be new position of the new arrival, she halted as he seemed unphased.

Allistair felt, for but a moment, another will push against his own, compelling him to group up tightly with Alonzo. He was familiar with magics that would control the will of another, and, using this knowledge, pushed the poor attempt from his mind. Allistair knew all too well how dangerous it could be to group tightly with one’s own party while fighting against spellcasters.

Just as Allistair regained his own sense of self, and fought off the magics of Sylthion Verdantspire, Zythera Nightfang vanished from sight, pulling her cloak over herself and disappearing.

Alonzo, who had just turned to face the Justiciar, stared into the empty space that was now before him for a few moments, then shrugged.

“Great, now I can ignore that problem.” He said to himself as he turned to face Prinze once more.

Taking a great puff from his cigar, he held his focus aloft and began conjuring forth Doug, Steve’s cousin and celestial warrior counterpart. As Doug began to take shape, a bolt of antimagics lashed out at the celestial, originating from the Oracle. Her will tugged against that of Alonzo for a brief moment before, ultimately, she lost out and Doug was fully manifested. Her attempt to counter Alonzo’s spell had failed.

While Steve had taken the form of a hulking warrior made from radiant light, clad in thick plates of metal armor, and wielding a massive two-handed mace, Doug, while also made of the same radiant light, was clad in armor that allowed for far more mobility. Doug flexed its thick arms, drawing a great bow that was nearly ten feet in length.

Alonzo had conjured Doug nearly forty feet in the air above himself, and not taking kindly to the Oracle’s attempts at stopping his spell, he said, “Doug, take care of her for me.”

Doug raised its bow and finished drawing the glowing string. Three arrows of radiant light manifested from where its hand pulled the bowstring, extending out past the bow’s rest. Doug’s fingers twitched and the string and arrows disappeared as the arrows were launched in streaks of light towards the unprepared Oracle.

The first of the arrows struck Sylthion Verdantspire in her left shoulder, piercing through her and sticking from both sides of her shoulder. The second planted itself similarly in the center of her chest, and the third in the same manner in her right shoulder. All three of the arrows that protruded from the Oracle formed a perfectly straight line that glowed brightly before shattering and dissipating.

Blood began to trickle from the Oracle’s wounds as she reeled back, then turned her head up to snarl at the celestial. Before her snarl could conclude, six more arrows made from radiant light peppered her torso, riddling her with bleeding holes.

Satisfied with Doug’s volley, Alonzo turned his back to the Oracle and held his hand back up towards Prinze, preparing to continue healing him once more.

Zythera Nightfang, who had simply turned invisible, was stunned when the target she had just stabbed displayed a complete lack of object permanence. Appalled a moment later that he would conjure a celestial to harm her mate, she stood once more, took a moment to line up her stab, and plunged one of her daggers into the back of Alonzo.

Overcome by the pain of being stabbed again, Alonzo’s attempt at healing Prinze broke, but Prinze still had not heard a bell. 

Activating his wraps, Prinze drew forth all of the stored power he had accumulated while slaying members of dragonkind. The energies washed over him, sealing all of his wounds and restoring him as if he had taken a week of rest and relaxation.

With a new fire in his eyes, Prinze pulled himself free from the dragon’s teeth, stretched, and began delivering quick, precise punches to the dragon’s soft pallet. As Myrathion began to reel back from this sudden and uncomfortable sensation within its mouth, Prinze drew forth his Adamantine Folding Chair. Gripping it by the legs, Prinze quickly opened it then closed it again, as if cocking it.

Filled with energies that caused it to shudder, Prinze swung the Adamantine Folding Chair, slapping it against the roof of Myrathion’s mouth. The impact, and subsequent thunderous crack that followed, caused the dragon to reel so fast and hard that Prinze tumbled from its mouth.

Prinze was not the first to fall, however, as the magical crack produced by the chair had forced the dragon from the ceiling and onto the ground beneath him. Falling down towards it, Prinze braced his feet and plummeted down towards it like a missile, delivering a powerful kick onto it that carried forth all of his fury and momentum.

Myrathion roared out in pain, leaping from the ground, and throwing Prinze from atop him. Now hurt and furious, Myrathion stabbed two claws through the sides of Prinze, forcing him to the ground, then reached down to bite into his arm. Blood began to gush from Prinze’s body once more.

Continuing its assault against the prone Prinze, Myrathion withdrew its claws from his sides, then, using his other hand, raked his claws across his chest twice more, finishing the assault by biting down on him and lifting him into the air.

Beezul, unaware of the carnage happening outside of the hive, stared down at seven giant bees, contemplating how to bypass them and get to his queen. The eight stared off for a moment, still and quiet aside from the buzz of the bees’ wings.

Beezul was the first to move, conjuring forth a blast of webbing from his palm. The webbing covered the bees like a net, not wholly stopping them, rather slowing their pursuit as Beezul dashed past them. Beezul pushed farther into the hive, pursued by those he would once call sister.

A darkness would begin to set over the Temple of Venovarax as dense clouds began to accumulate above. 

Wiglof turned to his wife, Hulda, saying, “Wife, I do not have a good feeling about this.”

“Neither do I, husband.” She said, “Perhaps we should prepare the skyland for an emergency departure once our lord returns?”

“Yes wife, I believe that would be wise.”

The two departed, leaving Dolgrak alone to contemplate his part in the growing darkness.

Down below, within the depths of the Temple of Venovarax, Myrathion, a green dragon of immense size, power, and age, crushed its jaws down on the body of Prinze Dragoon, a green-scaled draconian who had been, largely, fighting the dragon alone.

Over the last several minutes, the chambers of the Temple of Venovarax had echoed with the screams of pain emanating from Prinze as he was slashed, bitten, and shaken by Myrathion. His screams were only trumped by the roars of pain returned by Myrathion as flames wreathed around Prinze each time Myrathion slashed or bit into him.

Alonzo Bolin, a human healer, stood below with a dagger plunged into his back. The green-scaled draconian, Zythera Nightfang, assassin and Justiciar of the Verdant Faithful sect of the Cult of the Chromatic Queen, withdrew her dagger, then plunged it, and a second dagger, back into the point where Alonzo’s shoulders met the base of his neck.

A magical barrier that had surrounded Alonzo, which had redirected the Justiciar’s strikes into non-lethal spots, shattered. Zythera withdrew her daggers once more, then plunged them into Alonzo’s back a few inches above the small of his back. The tips of the blades protruded from his abdomen and pulsed with venom.

As a final insult added to Alonzo’s injuries, the Justiciar of the Verdant Faithful hoisted Alonzo’s body above her head and belched a cloud of poisonous gas around him. 

Prinze looked down from the jaws of Myrathion to see Alonzo disappear into a cloud of gas. A moment later, the cloud was cleared by the beating of Myrathion’s wings, carrying it back to the ceiling of the chamber where it clung once more.

As the opaque gas cleared, Prinze saw the Justiciar standing over the corpse of Alonzo. The life had drained from his eyes. In that same instant, Doug, the celestial archer that Alonzo had conjured, disappeared into a flash of light.

Kneeling within a corner of the massive chamber, casting a spell to seal the nine arrow wounds created within her chest by Doug moments before, the Oracle of the Verdant Faithful, Sylthion Verdantspire, pointed a claw towards Allistair.

“How about a taste of your treacherous friend’s own medicine?” she hissed as the tip of her claw glowed green.

Eleven large bees, each the size of a large toad, emerged from a wicker beehive at the feet of Allistair, swarming around him as they got their bearings. The half-vampire swung his flaming blade and shadow blade at the insects as they began to sting him with painfully large stingers.

Managing to sidestep the bulk of the swarm for but a moment, Allistair crossed his right arm over his chest then swung it up in an arc over his head. In previous instances when Allistair had cast this spell, his hand would leave behind several tiny glowing stars, but he was left surprised as the magics in his hand were shattered by a bolt of antimagics cast by the Oracle that opposed him.

Frustrated, Allistair stared at the Oracle for a moment, as if to say, “Seriously?” then took off in a charge straight towards her.

Enraged by the sight of the life leaving Alonzo’s eyes, Prinze entered into a flurry of strikes against the dragon’s scorched mouth, cracking the burnt skin and causing the dragon to roar out in pain.

Myrathion, however, had had enough. In an instant, the dragon bit down on the flailing monk, raked his claws across his body twice, and repeated the process twice more. Seconds later, it opened its bleeding mouth and Prinze’s limp body fell to the stone floor below, landing in a hard thump.

Haggard from a grueling battle against Prinze, Myrathion released its grasp on the ceiling and began to fly towards the exit of the chamber.

Still kneeling below, Sylthion Verdantspire watched as the dragon tried to flee the battle. She procured a green ceramic mask from her satchel, molded in the visage of a green dragon, and placed it upon her face.

 The eyes of the mask glowed a bright green for a moment as she called out, “Myrathion, you are not permitted to leave.”

The dragon halted in its escape, green glowing from its eyes as it dropped down to the floor before the two great stone doors that marked the exit.

Unsure if Alonzo was truly dead or not, but unwilling to take a risk, Zythera Nightfang cut the throat of Alonzo’s corpse. Blood poured out, but the body did not react. She looked up at Allistair, pointed her dagger at him, then marked him with a magical tracking spell. Allistair tried to wipe away the mark, as if it were an insect that had just landed on him, but stopped the instant he noticed the Justiciar beginning a charge towards him.

Taking a moment to evaluate the situation, that of which a massive dragon stood between him and his escape route, Alonzo was dead, and Prinze was dying, Allistair burst into a puff of mist, grabbed the body of Prinze, then cast a teleportation spell to take him back to Sky’s Reach, abandoning Alonzo’s body and Beezul.

Allistair exhaled a breath of relief, then opened his eyes, expecting to be back atop Sky’s Reach. He was not.

A cackle rang out from the Oracle, antagonizing Allistair with the proclamation, “You’re not allowed to leave either.”

A final, labored breath rattled out from Prinze’s body as it transitioned into a fresh, warm corpse. Allistar dropped him to the floor and held his blades aloft, preparing for his final assault.

The eyes on Sylthion’s mask lit up once more with a bright green, as followed the eyes of Myrathion who turned and snarled at Allistair.

Beezul continued his dash down the corridors and halls of Vespa’s Hive, dodging hostile drones, ducking into narrow tunnels, dipping beneath outcroppings of hardened wax, diving through walls of soft wax and honey, and dodging the two Broodguard that guarded the Queen’s Chamber by teleporting past them in a burst of mist.

As he entered into the Queen’s Chamber, Beezul beheld a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Since the day of his wish, Beezul had watched Vespa, the queen of his hive, grow into the form of a large humanoid bee. Her hive had adapted, growing larger in turn to care for their queen. He had cared for them, nurtured them, and acquired his power from them.

Beezul was not stunned by the sight of the massive bee goddess that flew before him, nor the sizable bees that swarmed around her, rather the literal mountain of bee corpses that they stood, and swarmed, above. The mountain itself grew taller and wider with each passing second.

Vespa hovered above the corpses of thousands of her slain children, both faithful and traitor alike, surrounded by a swarm of both. The traitors, hypnotized by the arrival of Sylverfang, created a maelstrom around her, trying to penetrate the wall formed by her faithful guards.

One after another, the traitorous bees would charge towards her with their stingers and engorged mandibles, and one after another her faithful children would put their bodies on the line to eliminate the traitors.

Slithering around the base of the mountain of corpses was the Wish Dragon Sylverfang. With her ghostly form, she passed through the maelstrom of bees that swarmed around her, creeping ever closer towards the queen. While it would be no issue for her to slither directly to the queen and deal with her directly, Sylverfang was waiting. Waiting for the arrival of Beezul.

Beezul shook away the stunning sight and drew his Bee-Bee Gun, taking aim at Sylverfang. The attention of both Vespa and Sylverfang were instantly drawn to the little kobold.

Slyverfang began to slither back down the mountain of corpses towards Beezul, calling out, “So glad of you to join us, Zul! We’ve already started the party without you.”

Ignoring her attempts to goad him, Beezul began to pray to Vespa, “My queen! Please, I beg of you, give me the power to slay this… Bitch!”

Knowing that her life depended on it, one third of the bees that swarmed around Vespa, those that were still faithful to her, that is, began to glow with a white light. They all shattered into particles, buzzed around for a moment, then formed into a single tiny glowing bee.

The bee, unphased by the maelstrom around it, buzzed and bumbled down into the hands of Beezul, and he knew just what to do with it. He loaded it into his Bee-Bee Gun, imbued it with the last of the lightning he could conjure, and fired it at Sylverfang.

The little radiant bee crackled and whizzed through the air towards the incorporeal dragon. Sylverfang reared up and deployed her hood, a remnant from her previous life as a green dragon, preparing to take the shot head on, anticipating it would harmlessly pass through her. 

The little bee, however, was not harmless. By no means was it dangerous to the powerful Wish Dragon either, but it did not simply pass through her without a fight. The little radiant bee struck a blow into the incorporeal dragon, punching a tiny hole through her before splattering out from her hood.

The hope drained from Beezul’s eyes as Sylverfang peered down at him, smug and unphased. She loomed down upon him, closing the distance between the mountain and his little body. 

As Sylverfang approached, Beezul scrambled, grabbing what he could from around him to fire at the dragon, but anything he fired from his Bee-Bee Gun after the little bee was useless, passing harmlessly through her.

Her snout was only a few inches away as the last of his shots passed through her. Sylverfang snorted with satisfaction, and her ghastly breath caused the Bee-Bee Gun to fall apart into nothing more than useless wax once more.

“Little creature. You continue to defy me. You strike out against my machinations when I have treated you so well. When I have cared for your queen. Tell me, what will you do to stop me from taking from you everything that you love?”

“You have threatened my hive.” Squeaked Beezul, “I will… I will defend my hive… my queen, until my dying breath.”

Sylverfang chuckled, “Then so be it.”

Allistair stood in the back of Myrathion’s chamber with the Justiciar of the Verdant Faithful bearing down upon him. He couldn’t dodge her and escape through the exit, as the hulking Myrathion blocked his only means of escape, and he couldn’t teleport, as the Oracle of the Verdant Faithful was preparing to counter any spell he would cast. He had one last option: to stand and fight.

One foot in front of another, Allistair began his blade song, stepping forward in a dance of blades, flames and shadows whistling around him in a cacophony of magic and steel.

Then, as sudden as Allistair’s final charge had began it had halted, interrupted by an explosion of force and magic. Allistair looked behind him to see the corpse of Prinze glowing, standing upright and growing in size until it stood as tall as Myrathion.

The glow faded and revealed the magnificent form of a storm giant. The storm giant. The Jotunn, Lord of the Vegvisir. 

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 41 Pt. 1

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 08/26/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 41 Pt. 1

This week’s tale begins as our intrepid adventurers delve into the depths of a cult stronghold after enacting a wholesale massacre on their lower ranking members. As they descended the steps of the temple, deeper into its depths, Alonzo, the party’s healer, was snatched from the ground by a dragon clinging from the ceiling.

Alonzo shouted as the dragon’s jaws clamped down around him at the waist and he felt his feet leave the ground.

The maw of the great green dragon wound back up into the darkness above the stairwell, revealing a massive body shifting in the shadows.

Prinze called out, “Shit, I mean, Hey! That’s where I like to fight from.” He trailed off, “That could have been me…”

Feeling left out from executing his life’s purpose, slaying all dragons upon the plane that is, Prinze conjured forth his own draconic wings. Sprouting from his back, an ethereal pair of leathery wings stretched out and beat against the stale air. In a moment, Prinze lifted off of the ground and flew towards the dragon hanging above.

As Prinze approached the dragon, he lashed out his leather wrist wraps, managing to grapple one of the many spines set upon the dragon’s head. As he whipped out the other wrap, however, the dragon twisted its head around, releasing Alonzo, and snapping at Prinze in turn. Alonzo plummeted to the floor, landing in a heap with a heavy thud and a groan and the fangs of the dragon sunk deep into Prinze’s body.

Each of the dragon’s fangs were as long as a short sword, and each was capable of delivering a large dose of potent venom to the dragon’s targets. Prinze, however, was not phased by the introduction of toxins into his system.

The magical feast that Alonzo had prepared only hours before fortified those who ate it against the effects of toxins, disease, and even the paralyzing effects of fear.

Smug, in the sense that Alonzo’s feast had prepared him for the dragon's most dangerous weapons, Prinze smirked at the dragon as the toxins began to leak ineffectively from his own pores.

The dragon, however, did not take kindly to Prinze’s act of defiance, pausing for but a moment to assess the situation before beginning to shake its head violently, chomping down harder upon Prinze with each shake.

While the magical feast he had eaten had fortified his mind from the effects of fright, fear began to creep across Prinze’s mind as the dragon carried him out of the hall, crawling across the ceiling into the next chamber.

“Prinze!” shouted Alonzo as he stood, “Do you need any help?”

“No!” replied Prinze, “I’ve. Got. Him. Right. Where. I. Want him!” he shouted as the dragon shook him back and forth, not unlike a hound that had just caught a rabbit while patrolling its yard.

As the tail of the dragon pulled out of the vestibule, it halted, stretched its neck around, and hissed, deploying its hood. To Alonzo and Beezul it appeared as if the dragon had tripled in size. The bright coloration and serrated patterns of its hood would have been more than enough to frighten any normal creature, let alone the two of them, however, the magics of their feast once again proved to be an immense asset, allowing them to shake off the worst of their fear.

 After deploying its hood, the dragon withdrew its neck and continued crawling across the ceiling to the other side of the next cavernous room.

Stunned by the dragon’s sudden display of aggression and savagery, Alonzo and Beezul stared at each other for a moment, as if to ponder if this exchange had just happened before them. It became apparent to both, due to the shouting of Prinze, and the leaking wounds left behind by the dragon in Alonzo’s torso, that it was in fact happening.

Both would quickly charge out of the vestibule and into the large chamber beyond in pursuit of the dragon and Prinze.

Alonzo and Beezul passed through the pair of massive stone doors into an even larger throne room. The dragon clung to the ceiling, chewing upon Prinze at the far end of this chamber. Below it rested the skeleton of an even larger dragon, long dried and desiccated, and filled to the brim with gold and treasures. Sitting upon a raised platform, at the far end of the chamber, was a green throne that glistened in the torchlight as if made of gemstones.

Sixteen stone columns, eight on either side of the chamber, extended from the walls of the vestibule to the far wall of the chamber. Three of the columns lay beneath the draconic skeleton, and between them waited two of the cult’s Broodguard and a dozen Adepts. Drawing their daggers and swords, the cultists began to charge across the room towards Alonzo and Beezul.

Beezul ignored the charging cultists, drawing his Bee-Bee Gun and loading it with an electrified bee. While Beezul was focused on lining up a shot on the dragon, Alonzo noticed that each of the Adepts appeared to be wearing a green cloth over their eyes, hindering their vision. As the Adepts stumbled forwards, the two Broodguard called out commands to correct their courses.

Alonzo’s ponderance, however, was interrupted by the pained screams of Prinze as the dragon continued to shake him violently, gnashing down with every shake. While blood showered the floor beneath them, flames engulfed Prinze, originating from an enchanted necklace that he had worn, burning the inside of the dragon’s mouth with each chomp.

Beezul, finally getting a bead on the dragon, drew forth a deep breath and fired his bee from the Bee-Bee Gun. The bee whirred through the air, crackling with electricity, and striking the dragon in the shoulder. It let out a pained roar before chomping back down on Prinze.

At the satisfying sounds of its pain, Beezul reloaded and fired again. The second bee he fired missed, however, whizzing only inches from Prinze’s head and missing the dragon entirely. Disappointed at his miss, Beezul stowed the Bee-Bee Gun, drew his Bee Drills, and deployed his insectile wings, preparing to engage the dragon in direct combat. Before Beezul could take off, however, a chill shot through his body, stopping him in his steps.

A familiar voice whispered to Beezul as an ethereal form appeared from the floor before him. It passed through his chest and out of his back, saying, “It is time your treachery is rewarded in kind.”

The Wish Dragon, Sylverfang, left behind a cold chill as she passed through Beezul and into the beehive on his back, cackling maniacally as she disappeared. Beezul froze as panic overcame him.

Atop the skyland, Sky’s Reach, Allistair withdrew his hand from the shoulder of Dolgrak. A few minutes ago he was prepared to leap from the edges of the skyland with Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze into the cult stronghold below to deliver his wrath alongside his companions. But before he leapt, Allistair noticed Dolgrak wavering in his commitment to bringing about an end to the cult.

Figuring the other three could take care of things by themselves, at least for a few minutes, he stepped back and asked, “Dolgrak? Are you doing okay?”

Dolgrak stammered, “I just, well, you see… I don’t know if I have it in me.”

“What do you mean?” said Allistair, “I’ve seen you leap onto a sailing skyship and take over the helm like it was second nature. You’ve fought dragons and giants, and slain members of a cult many times. What about this do you not have in you?”

“This is just too much.” Said Dolgrak, “Following a crazed draconian into a cult stronghold. Fighting against dragons at every opportunity. Dragons! Not just any monster, but the most dangerous monsters there are. I’m not prepared for this! I’m not even useful in fighting them!” said Dolgrak.

“No.” replied Allistair coarsely, “You really aren’t.”

“See, you agree! It would just be better if I stayed up here and…”

“No.” replied Allistair again. “You can have your little meltdown some other time. One that we aren’t currently laying siege to a cult stronghold. You can’t just throw a fit and wimp out when others are counting on you to at least be there. We’re fighting dragons and a cult, we can’t afford to split the party and risk failure because you’re having second thoughts.”

Listening in to their conversation, the stone giant Wiglof asked his wife Hulda, “Wife, they’re still here. Should we get rid of them?”

“I don’t know, husband. It seems the resolve of the tiny one is faltering due to recent unaddressed personal conflicts.” She replied.

“That sounds selfish, wife. Do you think that our lord is in danger because of his failure to participate?” asked Wiglof.

“I doubt it, husband. Our lord is a mighty warrior, and the tiny one is an ineffective combatant.” Said Hulda.

Allistair and Dolgrak stopped and stared at the two as they talked.

“You know, perhaps I should check in on them.” Said Allistair.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he cast a spell of scrying. His consciousness separated from his body for a few moments, slithering down into the temple below and looking upon the chamber where the battle was happening.

Allistair watched as Alonzo stretched out his cloak, taking flight over a band of charging cultists and up towards a green dragon. He saw Prinze in the dragon’s maw, streams of blood leaking from his wounds as magical flames shot forth from him and burned the dragon’s mouth. Alonzo’s hand glowed as he flew closer, healing many of Prinze’s wounds, ultimately prolonging his suffering.

His consciousness then turned to see Beezul as the band of cultists stopped and watched Alonzo fly over. One moment Beezul stood frozen in panic, the next he stowed his Bee-Bee Gun, peeled the beehive from his back, and crawled inside.

Allistair’s consciousness returned to his body and he described what he saw to the giants and Dolgrak.

“It does not sound like my lord is faring well.” Said Wiglof

“They’re doing fine.” lied Allistair. “Prinze is in his element.”

“I do not believe him, wife.” Replied Wiglof, turning to look at Hulda.

“Neither do I, husband.” Hulda replied, returning his gaze.

Both began to stretch and crack their stiff bones in preparation for joining the fray, but pride came over Allistair.
“There’s no need to worry. Like I said, Prinze has them exactly where he wants them.” Allistair lied again as he began to whistle casually, drawing a short sword and conjuring his shadow blade. “I’m going to go give them a little hand though.”

Prinze shouted through his pained cries, “If. He. Keeps. Ow, shit! Chewing on me… Arg! He’ll die of burns. Ah! Eventually!”

Still clinging to the ceiling with Prinze in its mouth, the dragon extended its wings and began to beat them violently towards Alonzo. The gust of wind created from the dragon’s wings threw Alonzo from the air and onto the ground in a heap at the feet of the cultists below. When he landed, Alonzo let out a pained grunt as the air was forced from his lungs.

The cultists, none of which were in possession of weapons that could fire projectiles, had been waiting patiently for one of the Slayer’s brood to descend within their reach. Now, with the gasping Alonzo laying upon the floor before them, their chance had come. Their chance would be cut short, however, as the Slayer would soon bring about their downfall.

Still screaming, with the sword-like teeth of the dragon stabbing through him, Prinze disappeared from the dragon’s mouth in a puff of mist. He appeared a few feet away on the dragon’s eyelid. Grabbing a hold of the scaly outcropping that was its ocular crest with his left hand, he plunged his right fist into the soft center of the dragon’s eye. 

He struck it once, forcing a reactionary blink, then, once it had reopened its eye he struck again, planting his fist firmly within its gelatinous center. Prinze extended the magical wraps from his wrist around the damaged eye. They twisted within its socket, firmly grasping the now damaged eyeball.

Using the wraps as a pivot, Prinze released the dragon’s scaly crest and kicked off from its lower eyelid. Once a few feet away from the eye, he jerked himself back, stomping both of his feet firmly into the closed eye. 

Blood squirted out of the ruined eye, coating Prinze and intermingling with his own. The dragon let out a roar of pain as its eye was all but destroyed.

Reflexively, the dragon reached up and clawed at Prinze, driving its talons into his sides. It tore him away from its bleeding face. The dragon held Prinze before its remaining eye, contemplating what to do. Grasping the ceiling with its hind legs and the thumb claws from both of its wings, the dragon released the rocky ceiling with its other hand and pointed one of its claws towards Prinze.

“This is your end, little slayer.” It croaked out as it slowly stabbed its foreclaw into Prinze’s chest.

Prinze called out in pain then blood gurgled out from his mouth. Gasping, he grasped his hands around the dragon’s foreclaw and pushed, trying to free himself. The claw, however, was not moved by the draconian, rather, it was withdrawn by the dragon itself.

Prinze coughed up another gout of blood, then looked up at the dragon a moment before its head lunged forwards for a series of bites. Each of the three strikes tore chunks of flesh from Prinze’s body, and delivered a new dose of venom that would subsequently leak from his pores.

Satisfied with his torment, the dragon let out a growling laugh, reared its head back, then thrust it forward, releasing a noxious torrent of poison over Prinze.

The cloud washed over Prinze like a jet stream, blowing back his head and his body with toxins. The cloud rushed past Prinze engulfing Alonzo and the cultists that surrounded him as well. As Prinze lay there, dying in the dragon’s claws, he heard the pained gasps and cries of countless others as they choked on the poisonous cloud and died.

Alonzo, more concerned with the wellbeing of Prinze than his own, stood, righting himself from his recent fall and cracked his neck. He reached his hand up towards Prinze, channeling divine magics through it, and again Prinze’s wounds began to seal up.

“I didn’t hear no bell.” Cried out Prinze.

Conveniently, as the green cloud of toxic gas cleared from around him, Alonzo noticed that the issue of the cultists that had been bearing down upon him seemed to have resolved itself. Over a dozen bodies lay strewn around him in a crowd, purple and blue from swelling and suffocation, and streaked with the red of blood that had leaked from their orifices.

As its remaining eye could find focus, the dragon was overcome with a sense of embarrassment, noticing it had slain most of its remaining allies in its poisonous breath. Its embarrassment, however, was short lived as it peered behind the two adventurers that had been giving it so much trouble.

Beezul crawled through the entrance to Vespa’s Hive, panicked at the terror that Sylverfang might be wreaking over his goddess. As he passed through the magical vestibule, Beezul was reminded of the wishes he had made long ago, those that would elevate a simple queen bee to that of the goddess she now was. He was hopeful that she could hold her own until he came to her rescue.

His hopes were darkened as he entered into the vestibule chamber of the hive, however, as he beheld the sight hundreds of drones ripped to shreds. There were three paths that split within the vestibule, but Beezul knew the hive well. His eyes, which were normally bulbous and pointed in completely different directions, focused in on the center path, towards the Throne Room.

Beezul rushed down the hall, following the trail of discarded corpses until he came upon an unusual sight. Three drones stood atop a pile of their sisters. When Beezul approached, the massive bees sensed him and turned. Their normally black eyes were silver and misty, no doubt the influence of Sylverfang.

Their mandibles, normally small and versatile, were engorged and sharpened by chitinous protrusions that appear to have rapidly grown from them. They hissed, a trait not native to even bees of this size, then charged Beezul.

Unwilling to fight his own hive alone, Beezul waved his hands, mimicking the bee’s natural dance, and cast a spell. Normally when Beezul had cast this spell, several giant bees from the hive on his back would appear and come to his aid. Four bees did in fact appear from within the tunnels of the hive. These bees, however, also possessed eyes silver with mist and engorged mandibles.

“Well fuck.” Said Beezul.

That is where this part of this week’s tale ends, and the next part will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 40

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 08/20/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 40

This week’s tale begins as our intrepid adventurers awaken from a long night of sleep, plagued by dreams of the mysterious Astral Equine.

Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, Dolgrak, and Prinze awake from their long day of rest in the late hours of the evening. Normally they wouldn’t sleep all day, but due to the conflicts of the previous evening they felt it was best to tackle the next step of their mission well rested.

One-by-one they filed out of their various dwellings onto the upper level of Sky’s Reach. By the time the final few had rubbed the sleep from their eyes and stumbled out, Alonzo had already prepared a feast for heroes. One that would bolster their fortitude and will, and fill their bellies. They ate in silence until the food was all gone, and each was covered in a warm, magical glow. 

Alonzo was the first to speak, standing and muttering prayers of protection, warding his companions from the dangers of the battle to come.

“Well, are we ready?” asked Prinze.

“Eeh…” muttered Beezul.

“Yes, but we must keep an eye behind us this time so you aren’t kidnapped again.” Said Allistair.

“Yep.” Said Alonzo as he finished his prayers.

Four had made their way to the edge of the skyland and peered down. Sky’s Reach was far above the forest below, several miles in fact. They could barely peer through the illusory clouds produced by the cloaking mechanism that protected the skyland. Below they could just see the top of an ancient temple poking out from the forest that surrounded it.

A moment of silence passed as they mentally prepared for the leap to come.

One thing they don’t tell you when you set out to become an adventurer, whoever they are at the time of one becoming an adventurer that is, is how much of a mental game adventuring is. Most aspiring adventurers tend to believe that adventuring is a strong man’s game. Whoever can swing a sword the hardest or fastest will be the best adventurer, but that’s not the truth in the slightest.

The greatest hurdle to overcome, for the vast majority of adventurers, is overcoming the mental toll that it does on you. Sure, being strong and fast are important traits to have, but those aspects fail entirely the first time you watch your healer’s guts spill from their chest. The first time you witness the atrocities feral goblin tribes commit to those they capture. The toll that death has on your psyche, even with the knowledge that you will soon be resurrected.

This mental toll is one that even our intrepid adventurers may come face to face with some time soon.

Prinze was the first to leap, or drop really, as he simply leaned forwards and began to fall, having resigned himself to his fate in the coming battle. Alonzo and Beezul quickly followed suit. Allistair waited a moment, however, noticing Dolgrak pacing back and forth nervously, contemplating whether or not to join the quartet.

Though he was not the first to leap, Beezul was the first to land, having broken into a spear-headed dive rather than a simple fall. In his fall, fury overcame him, and he once again grew greatly in size. As he crashed through the canopy below, he drew his Bee Drills, specialized katars that had been created to emulate the stinging of a bee.

Beezul landed with a heavy thump upon the ground, absorbing most of his fall with his insectile wings. He saw two figures dressed in green robes guarding the doors of the stone temple when he landed, and without a moment’s notice he began to attack.

Like a savage beast, Beezul thrust his first Bee Drill into the torso of the figure on the left. He began to cry out in pain as his second Bee Drill pierced his chest. Beezul raised the figure over his head and tore him in half.

The second figure, startled by the sudden appearance of a ten-foot tall kobold tearing his partner in half, backed away into the outer wall of the temple he guarded. Beezul noticed this slight retreat and roared, throwing both halves at the man. As the two halves impacted his off-balanced body he fell backwards.

Scrambling to pick himself up, the guard fumbled to draw his sword. Just as he had, a second figure dropped from the canopy, landing on the tip of the sword, driving it into the soft jungle earth.

Prinze looked down at the man, standing nearly nine feet tall himself. He looked at the dismembered pair of legs twitch as they tried to charge, unknowing that they had been separated from their upper half. The upper half of the body leaned against the temple walls, bleeding out, trying to raise its spear one last time before falling limp.

A moment later, the guard whose sword tip was stomped into the ground was no more. With four swift punches, Prinze had embedded his head into the temple walls.

Alonzo would  land a few moments later.

The three looked up at the temple before them, a massive ziggurat constructed of heavy stone, overgrown by the forest that surrounds it. The two large doors that separated the interior from the exterior rested partially ajar, wide enough for an average man to pass through with ease.

The three strode in with the intent to kill anything that moved.

Days before, while dining at the Sky’s Reach Kitchens, Allistair, Beezul, and Prinze briefed Alonzo and Dolgrak on what they should expect from this raid. The last raid had taken place upon an iceberg in the far frozen north. With their previous companions, Blinky and Maximus, both of which had retired from this adventuring party, they had delved into the hollows of the iceberg to root out a white dragon.
“In its own lair!” Dolgrak interjected before being told to be silent and listen.

The tunnels of the iceberg were filled with kobolds well adapted to the ice. Between them, and the Oracle and Justiciar of the Frost Sect, the five had their work cut out for them. But none of that would compare to the difficulties of dealing with the dragon that made that iceberg its lair.

They described to Alonzo and Dolgrak the grueling battle that ensued, and how they had all nearly lost their lives. Dolgrak would shudder at the thoughts of what was to come. The last the three had told the two was to be prepared to enter into the temple and kill the cult indiscriminately. 

Alonzo took this briefing to heart, and, as he entered alongside the other three, said, “’Bout to show you how we did it in the trenches.”

Nervous, and unsure of what he meant, the other three stopped as Alonzo raised his hands and began chanting a psalm. Alonzo reached his hands out and the tips of his fingers began to glow. Then the glow spread across his hands and up his arms, blackening them at his elbows, and glowing bright white at his fingertips. Suddenly, pillars of fire shot out before him.

Moments before, Ilya had been conducting a sermon on behalf of her lady, the Oracle of the Verdant Faithful, Sylthion Verdantspire. She had been instructed to take on her appearance for this sermon and prepare the faithful for the coming of some unwanted guests.

Ilya had been left in the dark as to the nature of these guests, but lady Sylthion had ensured her she would know. Faithfully, Ilya dwelt on every word of her mistress, hoping one day to carry the same grace and beauty that was afforded to her by the Chromatic Queen.

She began her sermon, preaching to the faithful below on true faith, faithful works, and then the purging of heretics. She would assure them of their importance here, and their purpose in restoring this temple, and she would assure them against fear of Myrathion, all while disguised as lady Sylthion.

As she preached, she looked down upon her supplicants and thought about those that toiled within this temple towards its restoration. But her sermon was cut short.

Shouting was heard outside of the temple doors, and moments later, three figures walked in.

Ilya had heard rumors of the slayer and his brood over the last few months. A den of vipers riding on the tails of giants to destroy their faith. They had caused quite a stir amongst the faithful, with some believing they had not only slain the lord and lady of the Night Faithful, but those also of the Frost Faithful. She knew these were just false rumors, however, made of the slayer’s corruption to sew discontent amongst their ranks.

She recalled the slayer was once one amongst their ranks, a blessed draconian with beautiful green scales on the path of becoming a Justiciar himself. But he had turned against the faith, and the Chromatic Queen, vowing to bring about their end.

His trusted brood were known to be a half-blooded vampire, likely of noble birth; another draconian, though hideous and gray of scale, with a propensity for beekeeping and heretical worship of his own hive; a human man who rarely wore clothes, and was quick to shed his when entering battle; and a leonine descendant, which had been corrupted, nearly beyond recognition, through fiendish pacts.

Immediately she recognized the slayer, but she was unsure of the other two. A hulking kobold adorned with the same beehive along its back as the accursed draconian. Perhaps it had a change in form but not identity? The other was a human man, but unlike the one described in the tales, this one was well dressed, almost aristocratic.

When they strode in, Ilya ceased her sermon, pointed out, and began to command the supplicants below her to…

The halls of the temple were filled with the roars of flames and the reverberating echoes of screams.

Moments passed, and the flames dissipated. Alonzo’s arms were left blackened to the elbows, though he was uninjured. He brushed the soot from them and stared out at the beautiful recreation of the war that he had created.

The hall was well over a hundred feet long and filled with cultists and gray stone. Now it sat, completely immolated and covered in soot, filled only with charred husks that whispered of a sudden end. For a moment, it was silent to the humanoid ear. But that silence would soon be broken.

From the four doors ahead of the party, which flanked the side of the hall, emerged nearly a dozen green-cloaked humanoids, and nearly three dozen green kobolds. They exited their doors, curious of the racket then sudden silence, then stopped to behold the carnage that sat before them.

At once they looked up at the approaching adventurers and broke out into pained wails of grief and rage as they charged down the charred hall.

Beezul, engorged to a size too large to pass through the front doors easily, grabbed one in each hand and tore them open with the immense strength granted to him by his magical belt. He charged forth into the crowd of approaching cultists, running one through with his Bee Drill. He lifted the suddenly dead cultist above his shoulder and flung her down the hall into another. Upon impact, the second cultist fell limp with a broken neck.

Prinze, seeing an opportunity above, began to run up the walls of the temple, keeping his motion in a circular pattern, he reached a brazier that hung above the charging cult. He leapt and grabbed ahold of its chain, giving it a quick yank, causing it to snap. He kicked off from the brazier as it fell, flipping mid-air before plummeting below.

The brazier plummeted down onto four of the kobolds, venom dripping from their fangs, and instantly broke their little bodies beneath its weight. Flames from the brazier, recently lit by Alonzo’s fiery spell, spilled out and burnt several kobolds and cultists around it.

As he fell, Prinze, targeting one of the higher-ranking cultists recognizable as a Hoodstrider from his time within the cult, stomped down on their neck. The force from his fall, and impact from his kick onto the Hoodstrider left her dead in an instant. 

Prinze tumbled as he landed, then kicked a kobold as he recovered. Seconds later two additional strikes with his wraps had left three fresh kobold corpses at his feet.

Three Drakeweaver Adepts, aspiring spellcasters within the cult, each loosed a volley of magical darts. Dozens of tiny, octarine missiles streaked through the air towards Beezul, puncturing little holes throughout his hide. Recognizing their effectiveness, magic surged from deep within them, and each released a second volley.

As the exhausting effects of surging magic overcame the Drakeweaver Adepts, Beezul was again peppered with tiny magical darts. He let out a roar of pain, but another roar drowned him out for but a moment.

A Fangsworn Adept, one of the aspiring warriors of the cult, became filled with fury, bellowing out a war cry as she dropped her shield and grasped her sword with both hands. She made a mighty chop into Beezul’s leg, sinking the blade deep into his engorged muscles, then tore at the blade to swing again.

The blade, however, had not cut as deep as she had anticipated, and the flexing of Beezul’s muscles in his engorged state made it difficult for the Adept to withdraw her blade. Taken aback, she swung three more times, but each slash was batted away by Beezul’s hand.

Beeuzul responded in kind, driving his Bee Drill through the Fangsworn’s torso and raising her above his head. The small group of kobolds that had surrounded Beezul, and began gnawing and scratching at his legs, halted at the sight of the impaled Fangsworn. Having left negligible wounds, they turned and fled back towards the door on the far-right side of the temple hall. At the sight of this, the remaining kobolds within the hall followed suit, fleeing down the hall.

The following group was not so lucky, however, as the first group had closed and, presumably, barred the door behind them. They cried out and scratched at the door for a few moments before stopping and turning in unison, noticing Alonzo flying above them, smirking.

On the other side of the door, five panicked kobolds caught their breath. Sacrificing the stragglers was a necessary evil. They had to protect their females and their nests. Their eggs were their futures.

They considered for but a moment the terrible cries of betrayal upon the other side of the door, but their consideration was replaced first with curiosity at the sudden silence on the other side of the door.

Alonzo loomed over the kobolds that cowered at the foot of the locked door. He floated to the floor, then bent over them as they cowered. He looked up at the door for a moment, only to see a single green eye peering back through a gap in the old dried boards. He looked back down at the kobolds at his feet and his arms became wreathed in flames once more.

Cries of pain and terror mixed once more with the roars of flames on the other side of the door, followed by silence. Alonzo stood up straight, dusted the soot from his arms, and cleared his throat.

“This was your fault.” He said, “Remember that.” Then he walked away, back to his party.

The four kobolds sitting outside of the door fainted, and Alonzo turned to witness the carnage of Beezul.

Facing down the last three cultists, the three Drakeweaver Adepts, Beezul aptly impaled the first with the Bee Drill in his left hand, then impaled the second with the Bee Drill in his right. He looked down at the third Adept, then promptly crushed it between the two fresh corpses, driving the ends of each Bee Drill into her sides.

Roaring with rage, and being drenched in the blood of the freshly slain cultists, Beezul raised his arms over his shoulders and threw them at the four kobolds passed out against the door behind Alonzo.

Moments later, the dust and ashes settled and the four looked amongst one another.

Prinze was the first to break out in laughter, then Beezul followed behind in his currently deep, engorged voice.

“You know, laughter is only one letter away from slaughter.” Said Alonzo, chuckling slightly.

In his laughter, Beezul’s rage subsided, and he began to deflate and return to his normal size. The changes in his tone, transitioning from large and deep to his normal small and high-pitched, caused Alonzo and Prinze to laugh even harder.

The four took a moment to search over the bodies of the cultists, hoping to find anything useful, but found nothing of the sort.

Having taken a moment to catch their breath, the three continued on, over a charred, raised stone dais, and through another pair of heavy stone doors.

Beyond the doors darkness masked a massive stone staircase carved to accommodate the steps of even the oldest of dragons, flanked by two smaller sets of stairs easier for the three to descend.

They noticed the walls were etched and painted, but none of them stopped to look. They were too focused on taking care of the cult, too focused even to realize neither Allistair nor Dolgrak were with them.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they stood before a third massive stone door, wrenched wide open. Beezul and Prinze began to step through it, but halted at the sound of gnashing teeth sinking into soft flesh.

Both turned their heads to see the massive maw of a dragon, reaching down from the darkness above, to grasp the upper half of Alonzo.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 39

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 08/19/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 39

This week’s tale begins as our intrepid adventurers begin negotiations for a truce with the vampires Sandria Mortessa. After some deliberation, Prinze stepped forwards to Sandria, asking, “What can you offer to us that would make a truce worthwhile?”

Sandria stood there for a moment in contemplation. Who did Prince think she was? Of all things, asking HER what she has to offer. How absurd, but she pondered the question nonetheless.

These adventurers had proven themselves unusually powerful, defeating all thirteen of her children and the monstrous Lathanon moments ago. All adventurers wanted gold, right? No, not these adventurers, surely not. Power? They already had that. What could she honestly offer them?
“Simple.” She said, “My worth to you is in building an army.”

Taken aback, Prinze replied, “Go on.”

“I can do it quickly, and as you have seen from my children, they will be powerful.”

“But we slew all of your thralls.” Said Alonzo from behind Prinze.

“That is true.” Replied Prinze.

“But of course, you five are outliers. Exceptions to the rules of power. To the coastlands, and the many kingdoms of this plane, mere subservient children would be more than enough for you to take anything you pleased.” She petitioned, “But imagine, not children, but fully grown adult vampires. Their power at your fingertips. At your beck and call.”

Allistair strode forwards to Sandria, staring intently at her then stopped suddenly as a bolt of lightning flashed past his ear and impacted her chest. No, not a bolt of lightning, a bee infused with lightning. It punctured a hole through her chest large enough to fit Allistair’s hand through.

Sandria’s eyes grew wide at the sudden betrayal, and Beezul loaded a new bee into his Bee-Bee Gun. Sandria dodged to the side, putting Prinze between her and the enraged little kobold, and Beezul fired once more. This time his aim was untrue, and the bee whirred straight towards Prinze. Fast as lightning himself, Prinze twisted around and attempted to catch the bee as he had caught many projectiles in the past. He was too slow, however, he managed to slow the bee enough to reduce its sting to a little prick.

“Ow you little shit!” shouted Prinze as Beezul dashed past him.

Procuring his Bee Drills, Beezul stabbed them into both of Sandria’s legs, slowing her retreat.

“What is this, you little wretch?” she shouted in surprise.

Standing, Sandria Mortessa plunged forwards her hand into Beezul’s throat, grasping his trachea. Beezul began to gasp and burble as she peered down at him.

“Steve!” shouted Alonzo as Steve incorporated behind Sandria.

She slowly looked back at the celestial as it raised its mace and brought it down on her head.

Alonzo rushed forth to lay his hands upon Beezul as he collapsed to the ground and began to bleed out. He looked up after Beezul’s wounds were sealed as Steve delivered his sixth and final blow to Sandria Mortess, grinding her bones and ashes into dust.

Prinze, scowling at Beezul, said, “I was willing to see where she was going to go with that.”

“It’s probably for the best.” Replied Allistair, “We wouldn’t want her building an army that we would have to take care of later.”

“Eh, I guess you’re right.” Said Prinze as he kicked over Sandria’s throne of bones. “I wonder what kinds of treasures she’s been hiding here?”

As Alonzo finished tending to Beezul, Allistair, Dolgrak, and Prinze scoured the lair for anything valuable. Prinze, with the bright idea to bring them to Hamblin, Sky’s Reach’s smithy, gathered up all twelve skeletons of Sandria’s children, and her own, and as much of the ashes as he could manage. The thought of Hamblin making a vampiric blade from the lot was tantalizing, although Allistair's Ebonblade, which he scarcely used, was vampiric, and it rarely saw the light of day.

Dolgrak found an old chest, and using his skill with a lockpick, which is to say, in his frustration he jammed a dagger into the lock and shook it until it came loose, he found a nice stash of coinage. Allistair was more selective in his search, instead managing to scrounge up twelve blood-red rubies off of the skeletons of the little vampires, and a silver necklace with thirteen empty settings off of the skeleton of Sandria.

Allistair pondered the assortment for a time, wondering if there was a thirteenth ruby on the final little vampire that escaped. He relayed his findings to the rest of his party and stored away the items in the meantime.

The five would make their way out of the vampiress’ lair and into the newly constructed tower. Allistair and Prinze stopped for a moment, as the others exited the dark tower, and peered around. Both contemplated repurposing the tower, but were shocked to find that it was empty. While constructing it, Wiglof had neglected to give the tower intermediate floors, simply making an empty shell. 

“Did you notice that…” began Allistair.

“I did.” Replied Prinze, “I think he followed your instructions though.”
“He didn’t give it any intermediate fl…” continued Allsitair.

“I know, but I saw your plans. You just gave him a drawing with a footprint and height.” Said Prinze. “By all means, I think he followed your plans. I approve.”

Disgruntled, Allistair left the tower, but Prinze stood there for a moment longer.

After he had emerged, he was immediately greeted by WIglof and Hulda.

“My lord.” Called WIglof, “Are you okay my lord?”

“Yeah, I got kidnapped and married off for political reasons.” Replied Prinze.

“That is unfortunate my lord.” Replied Hulda, “Is there a new mistress we must report to?”

“No, she’s dead.” He said, “And I didn’t even have time to take out a life insurance policy on her.”

“That is tragic, my lord.” Said Wiglof, “Hulda and I have sizable policies taken on one another.”

Prinze pondered for a moment, “Maybe we can exploit those sometime? Speaking of exploitation, did you manage to find a little kid running around here?”
“Aside from the kobolds, my lord?” asked Hulda.

“Yeah. She’s probably close to dying, missing an arm, and probably hunting one of the kobolds or Frank right now.” Said Prinze.

Wiglof reached down and opened his hand, revealing an ashy skeleton and a single blood-red ruby.

“I think that’s the one.” Said Prinze as he took the skeleton, ashes, and ruby, “Well done.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Both said in unison.

Prinze left the pair and joined his party as they laid out their loot. He gave the final ruby to Allistair, and the five set about dividing up the coins. After much deliberation, and ignoring the whims of Dolgrak, they would ultimately decide to give a portion to Alonzo to purchase more chalices for their heroic magical feasts. The rest would be placed in Sky’s Reach’s treasury until it was needed at a later date. Prinze then took the delegated coinage to the treasury and reconvened with the party to discuss their next move.

They would decide to visit Funda’s Enchanting and Hamblin’s Smithy, shops taken from the surface, upon approval of the owners, and placed upon Sky’s Reach to allow the two to work closer with the party. Both dwarves were hard at work within their spaces, as they tended to be.

“Good morning to you. It’s particularly early for you five, isn’t it?” asked Funda as Hamblin gave a greeting grunt and nod.

“We’ve been a little busy lately.” Said Allistair, “Our regular resting schedules have been turned inside out a bit.”

“Can you do anything with these?” asked Prinze as he began to produce the recently acquired vampire bones and ashes from his bag.

“Well, it depends on what kinds of bones and dust those are.” Said Funda.

“Vampires.” Replied Prinze and Beezul simultaneously.

“Oh.” Said Funda, surprised.

Hamblin ceased banging on the red hot sword he had been working and walked a few dozen feet to join Funda. 

He peered down at the bones and ashes and said, in his gravelly voice, “I reckon I could turn them ashes into a glass blade of sorts. I’ve heard of blades made of vampire’s ashes before. Blood Drinkers they call ‘em. Or the bones an’ ashes could be used in tandem to make fine blades.”

“Hmmm.” Said Allistair, “Perhaps we need to take some time to think about our options?”

The rest of the party, haggard, agreed.

“We’ll leave these here with you for the time being and come back with a decision after we’ve had some time to rest.”

“Sounds fine to me.” Said Hamblin.
“That’s fine.” Said Funda in unison.

The five went their own ways for the morning, collectively deciding to rest and reflect on the battle won.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 38 Pt. 3

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 08/19/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 38 Pt. 3

This part of this week’s tale begins as our intrepid adventurers face down the horrible draconic amalgamation conjured by Sandria Mortessa.

Alonzo, laying upon the ground covered in painful boils and electrical burns, began to pray for healing, laying his hands upon himself and sealing his own wounds. He stood and brushed himself off, haggard but no longer close to death.

Allistair, covered head-to-toe in agonizing boils, reached a hand out, flinging an orb that would explode into a thunderous explosion at the creature, but the pain from his injuries distracted him, causing his orb to fly wide.

Dolgrak, leaning behind a table with wet britches, drank a blood red potion, healing some of his wounds.

He whimpered out, “Guys! I don’t think we can do this! Can anybody get us out of here?”

“I can.” Replied Alonzo, “We could regroup up top, heal, and try again?”

“I like that idea.” Said Dolgrak.

“Seconded.” Cried out Allistair in pain.

Beezul screamed as he resumed his furious charge towards the creature.

“Alright, everybody to me!” shouted Alonzo.

Beezul halted in the middle of his charge at the command of Alonzo. Without turning his back to the creature, he flew back to the group.

“Prinze? PRINZE!” shouted Dolgrak.

Prinze looked back at the group, upturned his magical bag, and called out, “Potions of Resistance.” Four vials dropped from the bag, which he caught and sat upon the ground. 

“Drink these. Stop being wimps.” He said as he charged from the group towards the creature. 

His pride would not let him go. His modus operandi would not let him flee. Jotunn would not let this creature live any longer.

Swift as a streaking arrow, he closed the distance between the far wall of the lair and the creature, leaping at the edge of the blood pool. Mid air, Prinze lashed his whips out, embedding them into the creature. The fury of giants swelled through him as he used his wraps to swing himself atop the creature’s head.

Once atop it, he stomped down twice, shattering the shell of hardening blood and sinking his foot into its flesh. With a weak point created, he reeled his head back and bellowed a stream of acid from his mouth into the wound.

The monster began to beat its wings, kicking up another gust in an attempt to throw Prinze off, but he was latched on too tightly with his wraps.

At the sight of Prinze’s bravery, Beezul returned to his charge. As he approached, Bee Drills in hand, the creature clawed at the back of its head at Prinze, raking its talons across his back. It failed to find purchase on the dragonkin, however, unable to tear him from its back.

Seeing the charging Beezul, the creature threw its head forwards and snatched him up in its jaws. With the thrashing kobold secured, it returned to clawing at Prinze, slicing him once more, crunching upon Beezul again, and repeating the process in a frantic, furious pattern.

Unable to safely recall his party to the skyland’s surface above, Alonzo took a moment to assess the condition of the creature that terrorized his party. In the fear and turmoil he had failed to notice that this fleshy amalgam was covered in rips, tears, and leaking wounds that had not healed. There was hope to defeat this creature still.

He took a deep puff off of his cigar, then began a prayer. A moment later Steve reappeared atop the creature's head.

“It’s protected by her blood!” Alonzo called out, “Smash through it Steve!”

The celestial produced a spiked mace made from nothing but light and smashed down at the creature’s head. Once. Twice. Thrice. Nine swings did it make, at the creature, not all finding purchase as it writhed in pain. Once Steve’s first volley of swings had concluded, the monster’s skull was left wide open, revealing its engorged brain inside as blood pooled around it.

The creature continued to claw at Prinze and chew on Beezul. Allistair composed himself, fighting off his urges to flee in light of their exit strategy falling apart. He again called forth his strong feelings and memories of ages past and fired three psychic lances at the creature.

Whispering, “Lathanon must die.” The lances corrected their courses, zeroing in the amalgam, striking it once in the throat, throwing its head off kilter; once in the lower jaw, unhinging it from its head and freeing Beezul; and once in the eye, tearing off a chunk of its skull.

The amalgam became still for but a moment before it plummeted down into the pool of blood beneath it.

Prinze and Beezul tumbled away from the falling colossus, rolling across the bloody floor. Both righted themselves, then peered up to see the head of the creature begin to move back and forth as it sank into the pool.

It came to a halt in its sinking, with the tops of the teeth on the roof of its mouth resting just above the pool of blood. The skull split apart, and out stumbled Sandria Mortessa.

“Perhaps we can call a truce and align our goals towards one another?” she said, focusing her vision on the haggard adventurers.

“Didn’t we already have a truce?” Asked Prinze.

“No, I don’t believe we did, just an agreement for you to rebuild my home that you destroyed.” She replied.

“What can you offer for us to not kill you right now?” he asked.

She placed her hands around her breasts and gave a quick shake.

“I think we’ll need something a little more substantial.” Said Prinze, eyeing the vampiress’ small breasts.

“I have accumulated degrees in many fields of study over my many years amongst the coastland, including law.” She said.

“ We already have a lawyer.” Replied Prinze, “Can you out lawyer our lawyer?”

“I can out lawyer him and out pace him in combat simultaneously.” She said, peering at Allistair.

“Allistair? What do you think?” asked Prinze.

“I think my shadow blade is still cast.” He replied.

“Give us a moment to deliberate.” Said Prinze as he strode towards his party. “If you move from there, deliberations will end and we’re going to make you look like the rest of your children.” He gestured towards the nine ashy skeletons strewn about the lair.

The five caught their breath for a few moments and deliberated the ramifications of accepting a truce. Neither Alonzo nor Dolgrak cared either way, both wanting only to leave and rest after this ordeal. Prinze was fine with formalizing a truce, he did after all enjoy his time with Sandria, and would be fine with maybe pursuing vampirism one day, but both Allistair and Beezul wanted to finish the vampiress off for causing them trouble.

The five approached the waiting Sandria Mortessa, And Prinze stepped forwards, “I’m going to ask you one more time. What can you offer to us that would make a truce worthwhile?”

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 38 Pt. 2

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 08/17/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 38 Pt. 2

This part of this week’s tale begins as our intrepid adventurers finish off the last of Sandria Mortessa’s brood and face down the monster conjured by the enraged vampire.

Allistair peaked around the wall of stone that separated the boiling blood pit from the dining hall where he stood. Unable, and unwilling, to get within melee range of the vampiress, Allistair conjured three bolts of energy, throwing them around the stone at her.

Sandria smirked at the incoming bolts, throwing her hand up at the last second and forcing a rush of blood from the pool to harden between them and her. Two of the bolts smashed against the blood barrier, but one curved at the last second around it, striking her in the shoulder. It was no matter to her, however.

Sandria then raised her hands, pulling in blood from the pool into her wounds, sealing them in an instant.

Dolgrak began to shudder at the sight of this monster within her natural element. He considered his next actions carefully, deciding that it would be best if he just let the others take care of her. He turned and began to walk towards another tunnel that branched from the dining hall, then broke out into a sprint until the vampiress was no longer in his line of sight. He stood there for a moment, breathing hard, wondering what he had gotten himself into with these people.

Sandria continued to draw in blood, sealing more of her wounds and coating herself in an armor of hardened blood as Beezul loaded his Bee-Bee Gun with another lightning bee. The two locked eyes for a single moment as Beezul released the bee from his pipe.

The little bee, imbued with lightning, streaked through the air at Sandria, and she conjured another hardened plate of blood to protect her. The bee, moving at lightning speeds, impacted the hardened plates, shattering them into fragments and dust, but Sandria was unaffected until a second bee streaked through the air and impacted her chest.

Reeling back, she drew in another stream of blood to seal her new wounds, but she failed to notice as Prinze appeared at the edge of the pool and released a stream of freezing breath over her. The top of the pool froze solid for a moment before the boiling blood beneath burst out.

Interrupted in her efforts to heal, Prinze unfurled his wraps and whipped them out at her, leaving large slashes in her flesh.

The cavern went silent for a moment as Sandria fell still, then fell backwards into the boiling pool.

“Did we kill her?” asked Beezul.

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Said Prinze. “Get ready for whatever she’s going to do next.”

A large bubble appeared in the pool, then popped, leaving behind a loud cackle. The bubbling ceased and the pool began to roil as a hulking figure of flesh and blood rose from the depths.

The colossal form of a blue dragon emerged from the pool, dripping hot, viscous blood back into the depths beneath it. The creature, the skeleton of a dragon our intrepid adventurers had encountered long ago when they had first come into possession of Sky’s Reach, was now clad in bright red flesh, stretched over with torn, pale skin. Two beady eyes looked down at them, the same eyes that had stared mindlessly into the pool moments before.

Twisted bones and tusks jutted out from the flesh as painful spurs that tortured the creature as it rose from the pool. Each movement it made, each simulated breath, tore its skin and rent its own muscles.

The creature opened its mouth, and from inside bellowed the voice of Sandria Mortessa.

“Flee you foul creature! Flee before my might!” she shouted.

As her voice cut off, the creature itself released a vile, guttural roar that echoed across the halls of Mortessa’s lair.

“Shit.” Said Prinze.

“Oh fuck!” shouted Dolgrak.

“Oh my gods! It’s going to fucking eat us!” panicked Beezul.

The creature’s roar continued, only increasing in girth until it reached a bone chilling, ear shattering volume.

Allistair, Dolgrak, and Prinze immediately began to shiver and shudder in uncontrollable fear at the sight of this horrific monstrosity. A chill moved its way up Alonzo and Beezul’s spines, unsettling them to the core.

The creature's roar grew guttural as it raised its head and blood began to leak out. It closed its mouth suddenly and its throat began to swell. Arcs of electricity tore across its skin, causing it to boil and slough off.

The creature threw its head down, bellowing out a beam of lightning towards our adventurers, followed by a gush of boiling hot blood.

The beam was directed at Prinze, aimed with the fury of Sandria, but Prinze was too swift in his heightened state of fear. He threw himself to the side, just in time to avoid the beam as it streaked past him into the stone that separated this space from the dining hall. In an instant, the stone was vaporized.

Following the beam of lightning, a wave of boiling blood washed over the adventurers. Prinze and Dolgrak, both already taking cover behind rocky walls, were spared the horror of the creature’s blood, but the others were not.

Allistair, Alonzo, and Beezul were covered in boiling, sticky blood that melted patches of their skin, leaving behind angry blisters.

Silently, the newly born blisters began to chatter, plotting their escapes from the bodies they were spawned from. Each was filled with the malice of the countless servants of Sandria Mortessa, and each was prepared to pop in a painful burst of pus and blood. Each was ready to unleash misery upon this world in a torrent of…

Each of the newly formed blisters across their skin suddenly disappeared as a white light emanated over Alonzo and covered his party. The light was warm and comforting, healing their cuts, bruises, bites, and blisters.

This comfort and joy was short lived for Prinze, however, as the creature lunged forwards, grabbing him and digging its claws into him. He screamed in agony as it raised him to its mouth and bit down upon him.

Teeth as long and sharp as swords pierced through Prinze’s body, but he was not afraid. This was his natural element. He had the creature right where he wanted it. He was used to fighting dragons from within their own mouths.

The creature began to pull itself free of the pool of blood, wrenching its spine from its depths. This was the first our adventurers, other than Prinze, had been able to fully see what they were against as it dragged itself free of its bloody birthing pool. It looked like the body of a dragon, clad in flesh and loose skin, but its hind legs were missing, and its tail was shortened considerably.

The creature extended its great wings, stretching them and tearing its own skin and muscles in the process. Back and forth it beat its wings, creating a heavy gust within the tunnels of Sandria’s lair between its bloody membranes. Allistair, Alonzo, and Dolgrak were sent flying back to the far wall of Sandria’s dining hall, coming to a sudden halt upon its walls. Each let out a gasp of pain as they impacted bare stone and fell prone.

Beezul, however, had been flying when the gust was kicked up. Instinctively, he turned to face the gust, diving into it and beating his wings fiercely. Once it had subsided, he remained aloft.

Allistair righted himself, brushing the dust from his clothes, and opened his eyes. The horror that had brought back a flood of memories crawled towards him with its fleshy arms.

When Allistair was a wee lad, his parents had taken him into Yalth with them during one of their annual summons by the Council of Yalth. He remembered they were instructed to bring a hundred servants with them, amongst which was Ora.

Although Ora, and her parents were servants, Allistair was quite fond of the little orcish girl. She was pure, innocent, and sweet in a country that prized itself for its cruelty. During the trek from his parent’s estate to the Capitol of Yalth, Allistair even stole away to ride with Ora.

He remembered the games they would play with cards and dice and little wooden chips. But the innocence of Ora would be short lived.

The night of their arrival, Allistair’s family was called to a dinner and a demonstration with the powers of Yalth. Powerful necromancers, vampires, demons, all normal company for the nobility of Yalth. They dined on rich blood and tender meats, but when the feast had settled, a curtain was pulled away from the stage set before them.

Upon the stage stood Yalth’s most renowned stitchers, practicing necromancers that would pride themselves on their abilities to sew together amalgams from slain creatures and imbue them with a vile facsimile of life.

Behind the stitchers laid a corpse. Allistair had observed countless stitcher duels in his time, even as a child, but he had never beheld a corpse of this scale. It was massive, and it writhed. He thought to himself how unusual that was before noticing that the flesh used to make this amalgam was still alive.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Children of all ages! Behold your entertainment for the evening! We present to you no typical stitcher duel on this night. NO! But a demonstration of the stitching power of Yalth itself! Thanks to your generous donations, we have been able to complete our grandest amalgam in record time! We present to you!” The flesh golem announcer paused for dramatic effect, “The Flesh Dragon!”

The six stitchers upon the stage all turned to face the amalgam, raised their hands, and began chanting. Yellow and green magics swirled between them, and the eyes of all of the stitched servants began to glow blue. They wailed as energies were pulled from them into the stitchers, and then, once they had all fallen limp, it was returned as pale greens and yellows.

The stitchers turned once more to face the crowd, then bowed as the limbs of the servants began to twitch, then wail. Suddenly, the whole building began to shift as the amalgam stood.

Towering over the Council of Yalth, and its invited guests, stood a dragon made from the flesh of hundreds of servants.

Allistair shuddered at the memory, then conjured forth his memories into magical lances above himself. Remembering the name of this dragon’s corpse, from his last encounter with Sandria Mortessa, Allistair whispered, “Lathanon.” Then released the lances.

They streaked through the air at the amalgam, impacting across its chest and shoulders. The creature reeled back and roared in pain as holes were torn into it. As it opened its mouth, Prinze began to wriggle free from his impalement by its fangs, but it crunched down on him once more. Blood streamed from his body and trickled down the amalgam’s throat.

Dolgrak, thoroughly shaken at the sight of the amalgam, felt his britches become warm and damp.

“I’m just going to hide… I mean, get a better position for shooting it over here.” He said as he ducked behind a table that had been overturned by the gust conjured by the creature's wings.

Beezul rolled his eyes at Dolgrak, then peered back at the creature before him. His eyes then rolled a second time, not in disappointment, but in fury. As anger swelled within Beezul at the sight of the impaled Prinze, he grew in size. When he had finished growing, Beezul was large enough to wrestle with a fully grown ox.

With a raging battle cry, Beezul charged the creature, closing the distance.

At the sound of the cry, the creature began to violently shake Prinze within its mouth. But Prinze was in his happy place. Prinze knew how to fight dragons from within.

He closed his eyes and centered himself, shoving away the fear and the pain. Everything but focus was removed from his mind, that and the cheering from the giant lord Jotunn from inside his mind.

His eyes opened in a flash and he whipped out his wraps. With practiced skill, they curved around the contours of the fleshy creature’s face, embedding its ends into the creature’s eyes. With new purchase gained, Prinze pulled himself up from his impalement, blood leaking from his wounds, and righted himself.

The creature gnashed back down at Prinze, but before it could lock him between its fangs once more, he had disappeared in a poof of mist. While Prinze was in his element while within the mouth of a dragon, or creature that looked like a dragon, he was happiest next to its eye, which is exactly where he reappeared. 

He stared deeply into the beady little eye for a moment, holding himself aloft upon the creature’s fleshy face, then reeled his hand back to gouge it out.

A moment before Prinze’s fist could make contact with the creature’s eye, however, the voice of Sandria Mortessa called out, “I think not my love!” as a clawed hand reached up, caught him, and peeled him from the creature’s face.

The next thing Prinze knew was how pleasant it was to fly through the air of the vampiress’ lair. It was at least more pleasant than being in the stinking maw of that wannabe dragon, he thought as he smoothly landed next to the rest of his party.

Prinze looked back up at the creature across the rocky lair as its throat began to bulge once more. Allistiar, Alonzo, Beezul, Dolgrak, and Prinze all dove for cover as its head reared back and was thrown forwards once more.

A wave of blood washed across the surface of the lair, coating everything in hot, thick blood. Angry boils welled up across the skin of Allistair, Alonzo, and Beezul, though Beezul fared far better than the other two. Prinze had managed to just duck behind a rocky outcropping as the wave passed over him, and the table that Dolgrak hid behind protected him from the danger.

A moment later, as the flow of blood siphoned off, a bolt of lightning streaked from the creature's maw, catching Allistair, Alonzo, and Beezul as they reeled from their afflictions. All three dropped to the ground as the electricity arced through them, and the ward from death that Alonzo had cast over himself shattered like a sheet of glowing glass.

That is where this part of this week’s tale ends, and the next part will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 38 Pt. 1

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 08/17/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 38 Pt. 1

This week’s tale begins as our intrepid adventurers catch their breaths and continue deeper into the vampiress’, lair.

Exiting the common room entrance to the vampiress’ lair, Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, and Dolgrak dash down a curved hall, carved into the stony interior of Sky’s Reach. Following the sounds of chattering children, the four glance down, but ultimately avoid, three branching corridors, one to the right and two to the left.

At the end of the tunnel, the four emerged into a large dining hall occupied by three long, wooden tables. Atop each table sat two large, stone cauldrons. Five vampire children sat and chattered at the table closest to the corridor, while another four sat at the table in the center.

Sitting atop the table farthest from the corridor’s entrance was Sandria Mortessa, and sitting upon the bench between her legs was Prinze.

The eyes of Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, and Dolgrak grew wide as they saw Prinze seated before Sandria, suckling upon a single exposed breast.

“So nice of you to join us.” Said Sandria, “Once our prince has finished feeding, we shall consummate our marriage and he will become one of us. Oh… you have brought us a gift, haven’t you?”

Taken aback, none replied but Alonzo, who retorted, “Yeah, your dead kids.”

Simultaneously, Sandria and her nine remaining children hissed.

Dolgrak was the first to move, dashing forwards a few feet before discharging his crossbow at one of the vampire children. Jory, a little brown-haired boy, reached his hand up to catch the bolt before it could strike his forehead. With a smirk, he snapped the bolt in his little hand and began to crouch in preparation for a pounce on the little Dolgrak.

Disgruntled, Dolgrak began to reload his crossbow, hoping to loose another volley before the little vampires could reach him.

Beezul drew up the courage to charge head first into the crowd, planning on releasing a torrent of stinging bees from the hive on his back, but stopped before he did, considering the ineffectiveness of their weapons against the vampires thus far. A moment’s contemplation led him to instead draw his Bee-Bee Gun, leveling it at, what appeared to have once been, a gnomish child.

A moment later, two bees punched sizable holes through the little vampire, knocking him back off of the table where he sat. Beezul, not wanting to be in arm’s reach when the child had recovered, extended his insectile wings, and took flight, sealing a few of his smaller wounds with a spell as he approached the ceiling.

Prinze sat and suckled for a few more moments, remembering how pleasant the last several minutes had been. He thought about how stressful it had been these last few months, wrestling with the will of an elder giant, managing a whole skyland and its people, and even watching the progression of his own bloodlust against dragonkind. It was thirsty work managing a bloodlust that large.

It had been a busy few minutes for sure, but pleasant nonetheless. One moment he was preparing to run and jump off of Sky’s Reach into a cult stronghold, and the next, his mind was calm and quiet, seduced by Sandria Mortessa.

With his monastic training it would have required little effort for him to calm his own mind and shirk off the effects of the vampiress’ charms, but Prinze was willing to go along with her for a time, just to give himself a little break.

She swept him off of his feet, like a damsel in distress, stole him away into her lair, and introduced him to her children. He didn’t remember any of their names, he was just along for the ride while it lasted. He thought about how nice it was, for a time, just going on autopilot.

After introducing him to her kids, she pronounced them husband and wife, and promised to consummate their marriage after he had been turned. It was a short wedding, he thought, lasting only a minute or so, with her own children as their witnesses. Of course, in his charmed state of mind Prinze obliged.

After the “ceremony”, her children went about chattering and slurping away at their cups of blood in celebration of their soon to be new father, but what came next was Prinze’s favorite part. 

It had been some time, a few stressful weeks, since Prinze had last seen any action, aside from wholesale murder of dragons and cultists that is. When Sandria sat down atop a table, and sat him before her, producing a single breast for him to suckle like a new piglet, he had postponed his plans to break this charm and slaughter the masses, or die trying.

He was looking forward to a little non-violent action, and considered that becoming a vampire might actually aid his quest to eliminate the world of dragonkind. Vampires were powerful, they could regenerate, and were immune to all sorts of damage. A vampire Prinze could be the unstoppable force that this plane needed to defeat the dragon menace.

It was nice while it lasted.

The next thing Prinze knew, his peace was over. His lawyer was here to kill his own kin. The mobster was here to free him. The useless little gnome was here to… do whatever it is he does. Shoot things and complain about being left behind? But worst of all, Beezul was here. Here to make everything sticky. Here to taint this place with his draconic stench. Here to tear him away from his future as a vampiric dragon slaying machine.

“Well, this was fun.” Said Prinze as he stood, “But it was never going to work out between you and me.”

He stood, wiped the bloody milk from his chin, and pulled out his Adamantine Folding Chair. With a wide swing, Sandria Mortessa’s head whipped back. As she recoiled, Prinze cocked the chair, and as her head whipped forwards he smashed it into her once more, this time with a thunderous crack that echoed throughout the lair.

Once more her head whipped back and forward, and once more Prinze smashed the chair into her face. Blood and teeth flew in all directions as the vampire children gasped in horror. Sandria’s head came to a mangled halt for a moment and she attempted to hiss and claw at Prinze, but he was too fast.

Prinze stowed his chair, and in one swift movement, grabbed Sandria by the back of the head and slammed it into the table beneath her. Her head still in his hand, he ran the length of the table, dragging her across it and into the various pieces of silvered cutlery adorning its surface.

Sandria twisted around in Prinze’s hand and attempted to bite his hand, but missed, snapping her mangled teeth against the air as Prinze released her. She stood, cracked her neck, and her face rearranged itself.

Hissing, Sandria clawed then snapped at Prinze, missing both strikes as he backed away. Stumbling forward, she tried once more, missing both again in her disoriented state. It was hard work regenerating on an empty stomach.

In the same instant, Alonzo called out, “Steve. Sic ‘em.” As the hulking mass of radiant energy charged forwards at the same little vampire Dolgrak had missed.

Six strikes with its glowing mace later and the vampire child laid mangled across the floor, but not vanquished. A moment later, Steve disappeared, and Alonzo, cloaked in a flurry of little celestials all wielding clubs and daggers made of light, walked forwards to the first table where the little vampires leapt from.

The spiritual guardians that he had conjured swarmed the little vampires, clubbing and slashing at them, leaving behind glowing wounds they could not heal from.

Reeling from the sudden assault on their celebratory feast, and shocking betrayal by their soon to be father, the little vampires began to swat away the attacking spiritual guardians and jump into action.

Nella, a soft featured little girl, lunged at Alonzo, slashing and gnashing at him, but each of her strikes fell just short of him, as if he wasn’t in the same place as he appeared.

Garrick, a little half-orc boy, Sylvi, a little fey girl, and Ash, a little fiendish boy, all burst into shadows, appearing beyond the flurry of spirits and surrounding Dolgrak. Dolgrak gulped and braced for the coming onslaught.

He was surprised, however, at the most pitiful display of untrained, inept attacks that he had ever seen. It was as if these three children, and it must have been these three specifically because the previous little vampires had ripped and torn at his party, had never hunted for their own blood before.

The three slashed and bit at Dolgrak a total of six times, with only the final finally finding purchase upon him. Having easily dodged the five previous strikes, Dolgrak rolled his eyes and lulled into a sense of safety before the fangs of Sylvi implanted themselves into his arm, and she drew out a deep gulp of his blood.

Emboldened by their brethren, Thorn, a little elven boy, Brunna, a little dwarven girl, Jory, Lysa, a little half-elven girl, and Corni, a little gnomish boy, rose from their table within the swarm of spirits and beset upon Alonzo.

Jory, who had been severely damaged by the attacks of Steve, had just reached Alonzo and slashed out at him as one of the little spirits shanked him from behind, causing him to burst into ashes and bones. The dreams of an aspiring knight, and chosen executioner, were dashed in an instant.

Jory’s siblings, however, were undeterred. Thorn was the first to strike. Seeing the attempts made by Nella moments before, he overreached from where he thought Alonzo might have been, finding purchase a few inches farther. The first slash instantly broke the illusion produced by Alonzo’s cloak as Thorn’s claws dug into his side.

Now grappling the man that stood before him, Thorn sunk his teeth into him, drawing in a deep gulp of blood. He tried to plunge his second hand into Alonzo’s other side, but missed, being engrossed in his new meal, then took in another gulp.

The others followed suit. Brunna leapt upon Alonzo’s back, sinking both of her hands into his shoulders and biting his neck twice. Lysa took his flank, leaving a gouge in his right thigh then reaching down to bite into the back of his calf. Corni aided his siblings, latching on to Alonzo’s left side with his claws and fangs, and taking a second bite a moment later.

As the blood began to drain from Alonzo his will wavered and his skin began to turn pale.

In the hands of her betrothed, Sandria Mortessa burst into shadows and disappeared, leaving behind countless silvered knives and forks to drop to the floor.

Seeing him in trouble, Allistair drew his shadow blade and charged towards the overwhelmed Alonzo. As fast as a steely wind, Allistair’s blade flashed forwards and struck at all five children, managing to only miss the little Sylvi.

While Ash, Brunna, and Garrick were severely injured, the three remained alive, or rather as alive as the undead could be, after Allistair’s strikes. Thorn was not so lucky, however. As Allistair’s strike pierced his heart, and he smirked with his undead fortitude, one of Alonzo’s spiritual guardians flew by and clubbed him in the back of the head.

The quiet little hunter who had once respected the forests as much as his own parents burned away into ashes and bones as the radiant club caved in his skull.

A few feet away, Dolgrak pondered why he was unable to kill any of these vampires. He had never encountered creatures like this before, thus reasoned that they should just die if you harm them enough, but that seemed to not be the case. He also considered that it wouldn’t hurt if he could at least make contact with them, but thus far the only contact he had with them was when they would claw or bite at him.

He shook the thoughts away as the little fey vampire dug its fangs deeper into his arm. Drawing his rapier, he stabbed at the most injured of the brood, Garrick, missing as the little fey tore at his arm again. He was growing numb as Garrick responsively slashed out at him, narrowly missing.

High above the carnage upon the ground, Beezul charged up his Bee-Bee Gun with a lightning bee, firing it at the little vampire girl, Nella, blowing off her right arm upon impact. She turned and hissed at him, unable to recover her injuries due to Alozo’s little guardians, then Beezul fired again.

Nella remembered her life before Sandria Mortessa, working in her father’s inn, and caring for the denizens that passed by. She never refused to help anybody, which is what landed her in the family of Sandria. She had promised Nella that, with her gifts, Nella could help people like she had never imagined. It was true, Nella had never imagined that she would give her victims a final moment of tenderness before tearing their throats out with her fangs, nor had she imagined that this would be the way she would die.

Beezul giggled as the entire skull of the sadistic little vampire was spread across the floor behind her, and her body burned away into ashes. He reloaded and fired off one final hit at the little vampiress to her burning body, also relieving his new target of an arm.

“Uum, did you guys see where Shadow the… you know what? Forget it. I’ll find her.” Said Prinze as a little arm flew past him.

He then sprinted over towards the little vampiress who had just lost an arm, flipping up and stomping down upon her.

“Where are you my love?” he called out, taunting Sandria, wherever she might be. “You’re not going to leave your brood all alone to us are you?”

He kicked the little bloodsucker twice, then grabbed her other arm, twisting it off and waving it into the air. Bloodlust had overcome him once again.

Lysa twisted her head around to look at Prinze and hissed at him in pain.

Down the corridor, past the second hall that broke off from the left, Sandria Mortessa reformed from the shadows. She strode forth into a pool of blood, which took up most of the chamber, and caressed the shoulder of a troll that knelt within.

The troll had been a gift to Sandria from Allistair, weeks before, an offering of sorts to placate her, and her children, while her tower was rebuilt. The very pool of blood that the troll knelt in was its own, an endless supply at her fingertips, given freely due to the charm she had over it.

Allistair had hoped to build a working relationship with Sandria, but she knew better. She had watched the “working relationship” these adventurers had with the dragon that lived within the depths of Sky’s Reach. Sandria knew the only way to “work” with these people was to have them work for her, and the only way to get these people to work for her was to make them.

Her plan was simple. Take their leader, the dragonkin called Prince, and adopt him into her family. She knew she could turn him, she had done it dozens of times before, but the problem would be his servants. Not the giants, no, but the imbeciles that he led into his suicidal assaults against the cult.

Sandria had hoped that her children would be strong enough to be able to fight off Prinze’s servants, but was disappointed in them thus far. And Prinze himself had managed to break her charm, throwing another wrench in her plans. All she had left was Lathanon.

Sandria plunged her clawed hand into the back of the troll’s skull, grasped its brain, and clawed her own palm. Its eyes rolled back into its skull as blood began to leech out from Sandria’s hand into its body, replenished by that which she took in from the pool around her. The troll began to convulse, the pigment from its skin vanished, and a web of blue veins were revealed beneath, rushing with blood being simultaneously drawn out and replaced.

Suddenly, the troll's convulsions ceased and Sandria withdrew her hand from its skull. The bone and skin began to knit itself back together, but before it could, the troll melted into the pool of blood.

Prinze rounded the corner of the corridor to see the pool begin to boil around Sandria.

“Oh shit.” He said as she began to cackle.

Surrounded by vampire children, Alonzo disappeared in a poof of mist, reappearing thirty feet above. He dismissed his spirits, glided back down into the midst of his assailants, and called upon his guardians once more.

Countless tiny spirits rushed out from him with little radiant clubs and daggers. In an instant Ash, Corni, Garrick, Jory, and Lysa were reduced to little ash covered skeletons.

Bloody tears streaked from Sylvi’s eyes and she turned to flee, taking a single parting strike from Alonzo, tearing off her arm just below the shoulder.

***Sylvi, Wiglof, and Hulda***

It was at that moment Sylvi vowed to avenge and restore her brethren and mother. She rushed through the halls of this now forsaken lair and burst through the door into the darkness of the early morning. The sun crested the horizon, burning her skin, but she still had time to flee and find some place dark to hide until dusk.

Her arm couldn’t regrow until she was out of the sunlight, as dim as it still was, but she could still fly. Large batlike wings began to sprout from her back as she leapt into the air to fly, but she was caught by a massive hand as she took off.

“Look what I have caught, wife.” Said Wiglof.

“I see, husband.” Replied Hulda. “What do you intend to do with that?”

“Surely I can give it as a gift to my lord.” He said

“Do you really believe that our lord would… Husband? Where did it go?” asked Hulda, looking at Wiglof’s empty fingers as they pinched the air.

“Behind you, wife.” He said pointing.

In a flash of movement, Hulda whipped around and grabbed the little vampire from the shadows she had just reappeared from.

“Let us not let her do that again.” Said Hulda as she began to peel the wings from the little vampire.

Sylvi screamed out in pain as her wings were rent from her back. As they fell to the ground, they burned to ashes in the rising sunlight, and soon Sylvi followed in kind.

Wiglof and Hulda stood in the morning rays, basking in their warmth, and staring at the new pile of ashes the little vampire left behind.

“Are you going to clean that wife?” asked WIglof.

Hulda rolled her eyes.

That is where this part of this week's tale ends, and the next part will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 37

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 07/30/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Session 37

This week’s tale begins as our adventuring party disembarks from their captured shyship and separate for a time to prepare for their attack on the Temple of Venovarax beneath them.

In the moonlight of the predawn before their jump, Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, Dolgrak, and Prinze gathered over the edge of the skyland they inhabited, Sky’s Reach. The latter four gathered around Allistair as he stood silently, with his eyes rolled back within his head as he looked towards the sky. A moment later, his eyes refocused forwards and he looked over his party.

“I counted two guards watching the front of the temple, and three different groups a green kobolds led by some lower ranking cultists coming in and out at regular intervals.” He said.

“Did you see little green and her big punching bag?” asked Prinze.

“If you’re asking about the Oracle and her Justiciar, no. No sign of them.”

The five stared amongst each other for a few moments before Prinze broke the silence, “Well, guess it’s time to jump?”

The other four nodded, then turned to peer over the edge of the skyland. They had done this many times. A moment of silence as Prinze prepared a dramatic spring and jump over the edge, then they followed. But the flash of green rushing past them, followed by a leap of faith never came.

In fact, the only thing that came was a sharp prickling feeling as thorny spectral vines silently grew up from the ground around them and wound up their legs.

Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, and Dolgrak sharply turned, watching as Sandria Mortessa streaked away into the darkness towards her own tower. Her thirteen vampire children lagged behind, conjuring the vines that grew around the party’s legs before turning and fleeing themselves.

Reactively, Dolgrak and Allistair dove out of the encroaching vines, freeing themselves, and Beezul followed behind in more of a tumble than a dive. Alonzo, however, found himself completely bound. He was quickly covered in dozens of small pricks from the vines which drank his blood like a thirsty beast.

The three that had freed themselves began, in unison, bounding towards the tower to catch Prinze’s kidnappers, but stopped one by one after realizing Alonzo was not trailing behind them. They reluctantly returned to him and pulled Alonzo free from the thorny vines just as the door to Sandria’s tower closed and locked.

“Well shit.” Said Alonzo.

“Who was that?” asked Dolgrak.

“Sandria the Hedgehog.” Replied Beezul.

“Hedgehog?” asked Dolgrak.

“It’s because of her spiky hair.” Replied Beezul.

“He means Sandria Mortessa.” Said Allistair. “She’s the vampire that’s been living in that tower. Though, I’m unsure why she would want Prinze?”

“We could just… let her have him?” said Beezul, “I mean, it might solve a few problems for some of us. Not naming any names.”

The other three stared at him for a moment before Allistiar and Alonzo responded.

“No, I think letting her have him would be very bad.” Said Allistair.

“Not about to let a vampire take our best dragon killing machine.” Said Alonzo.

Beezul sighed, “I guess you’re right.”

Dolgrak simply shrugged. He had no love for Prinze, but he also feared what letting a vampire continue to run loose on the skyland might mean for his own safety.

The four strode up the hill in the center of Sky’s Reach, to the base of Sandria’s tower.

“How do we get in?” asked Alonzo, tugging at the locked door handle.

“Don’t you have the marvelous pigments? Can’t you just paint some bombs or… Wait, that was Maximus. Why aren’t you more like Maximus?” asked Allistair “His marvelous pigments came in handy more often than not.”

“I can try to pick the lock.” Said Dolgrak from a few feet behind them.

Allistair and Alonzo nodded, and Dolgrak approached the door. Kneeling before it, he placed his ear against it, gave it a few knocks, and produced a lockpicking set. After a few quick jiggles, the lock came unlocked and the door was free. He gave the handle a slight tug and noticed something wrong.

“Feels like she pulls a bit hard. Might be trapped.” Said Dolgrak.

“Can you disarm it?” asked Allistair.

“Not from this side.” He replied, “Best bet might be to open it really fast and hope for the best, or take the door off of the hinges.”

“Beezul?” asked Allistair, “Can you take it off the hinges?”

Beezul cracked his knuckles, then his neck, rubbing on his belt to imbue himself with the strength of giants, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Allistair, Alonzo, and Dolgrak took a step back and to the side as Beezul contemplated how he would go about it. He reasoned that, if pulling the door would activate the trap, then pushing the door was the only safe option.

Getting a running start, the little Kobold charged forwards, slamming his shoulder into the heavy wooden door. At the first instance of contact, the door was unmoved, but then Beezul’s magically enhanced strength caught up with him, then the next moment he was falling atop the door inwards, tearing it off of its hinges.

As Beezul fell through the doorway, carrying the door down with him, the trap behind it activated, firing six darts across the doorway. The darts, however, harmlessly clanged on the other side of the stone tower, missing the falling kobold completely.

As the Beezul, and the door beneath him, clanged to the ground, he felt a thud next to him as one of Sandria Mortessa’s children landed next to him.

Elric wasn’t always a bloodthirsty terror that he is in the current age. He was once a kind-hearted blacksmithing apprentice who dreamed of forging the swords of heroes. But as he stabbed his hand into Beezul’s side, grasping his ribs like a smith’s hammer, and biting down on his exposed thigh, he considered how much more enjoyable this life was. Perhaps one day he would return to his master’s house and…

His thought was interrupted by the deep Gnome rushing into the tower, stabbing him, then retreating.

Allistair conjured his shadow blade, but chose to leave his Ebonblade stowed, and marched forwards while beginning his blade song.

Beezul, in immense pain, felt his eyes roll back and become bloodshot with his all-consuming rage. He turned himself around the vampire child’s hand, drew his Beedrills, and stabbed his twice clean through. Unsettlingly, the child barely reacted, only drawing back his mouth from biting his leg. Beezul then kicked off of the vampire’s face, breaking his grapple on him, and possibly breaking a rib in the process. He landed a few feet away and postured for his next round of attacks.

Alonzo, however, knew exactly how to take care of vampires, children or otherwise. He drew his religious symbol and conjured forth a celestial. The hulking creature made of radiant light walked forward silently behind the vampire child, swept his legs out from under him, and crushed his head with his heel.

The vampire, writhed and screamed upon the ground as the radiant light interrupted his unnatural healing and burned him to a pile of twisted bones and ashes.

“What the fuck!” shouted Beezul. “What the actual fuck?”

“That’s vampires for you.” Replied Allistair.

“Speaking of vampires.” Said Alonzo, “Allistair, you seemed to have quite the reservations a few hours ago regarding the children on the skyship. Are you fine with coming down here to eliminate vampire children since… well, you know.” He gestured towards Allistair.

He thought about it for a moment, then replied, “No, it’s alright. They are vampires after all, and vampires are a scourge on this plane. Even if they are vampire children.”

The other three shrugged, then the four began their delve into the vampire’s lair beneath the tower.

First taking a short, rusty ladder down, then descending a stony staircase, they emerged into a wide open chamber adorned with all of the furnishings one would expect from the den of a well off mansion.

“It looks like they’ve been busy.” Said Allistair.

Now, the first time the party had ventured into Sandria Mortessa’s lair, it had been composed of only this chamber, carved out from within the skyland.

This chamber was mostly devoid of details, save thirteen smaller coffins that line the walls, one full-sized coffin for Sandria herself within the center, and the skeleton and a sizeable blue dragon lining the walls.

Given the current state of the chamber, however, given that is was now full of furniture, and the coffins and skeleton had been moved elsewhere, it appeared that Sandria’s lair had been expanded considerably.

Mira, Pip, and Roswyn waited within the den of their mother’s lair for their approaching supper. Mira and Pip, who had been sweet on one another for some time, sat together upon a sofa before a smoldering fireplace, holding one another in their arms. Roswyn, who couldn’t stand their affections, instead sat upon another sofa half way across the room.

All of their backs had been turned towards the stairs in which supper would enter from, but they were each acutely aware of their approach, and the screams of Elric moments before.

As the four walked in, Roswyn was the first to turn to greet them, “It took you long enough. Are you going to join us for supper, or are we going to have to bring you in ourselves?”

“Probably going to have to take us in yourselves.” Said Beezul.

“Why have you taken Prinze?” asked Allistair.

“Steve, stand by.” Commanded Alonzo.

The vampire children rose from their seats, and Mira called out, “Mother has decided to take of this skyland, and your lizard man was the key to doing that.”

“You’re not going to stand in her way, are you?” asked Pip.

In unison, Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, and Dolgrak replied, “Yes. Yes we are.”

Alonzo’s celestial, aptly named Steve, hummed audibly in response.

Roswyn leapt atop the back of the couch she had been sitting upon with the grace of a cat, crouching upon it ready to strike. Pip did the same with a nearby chair, while Mira vanished in a puff of shadows and reappeared atop a table only a few feet away from the adventurers.

“You know we just turned your brother into a pile of bones and ashes just a few seconds ago, right?” asked Beezul.

Roswyn and Mira hissed, but Pip replied, “Elric was a fool. You’re dealing with real vampires now.”

Dolgrak immediately loosed a crossbow bolt into Mira, striking her right between the eyes, before drawing his rapier and charging Pip on the chair.

At Dolgrak’s signal, Beezul took to the air, loading a pair of bees into his Bee-Bee Gun and firing both at Pip. While the lad had once been a halfling, making him a small target, Beezul’s aim was impeccable. Both bees struck the vampire, punching holes through his small frame.

Beezul flicked the Bee-Bee Gun over, loaded two more bees, and flicked it back in a cocking motion. Blood streaked from the two new holes punched into Pip, and soon one more joined them.

Allistair, continuing his blade song from the previous encounter, flashed forwards towards Mira, who crouched atop the table, slashing at her with his shadow blade. The blade passed right through her head, leaving no visible mark, but her mind began to shatter from the psychic impact it left behind. He quickly conjured forth a second blade made of air, leaving behind a booming crackle as he sliced her again.

The Ebonblade watched Allistair make two more swings without it, scoffing internally as he missed both. It still could not fathom why he would not draw it? It was quite literally created to slay vampires, and yet…

The vampire children hissed at their attackers, but their wounds began to unnaturally heal just as quickly as they were created.

Roswyn leapt forwards towards Allistair, bursting into a spray of shadows before appearing across the room next to him, opposite of Mira. Together, the two extended their claws and went into a flurry of slashes at the half-blood.

Roswyn’s first swing found itself just short of the incredibly nimble Allistair, missing, but her second found purchase across his chest, dragging a series of long wounds all the way down to his right hip.

Allistair reeled in pain, focusing in to avoid Roswyn’s next four slashes. Mira, who by all rights should have been able to catch Allistair at least once, found herself unable to make contact with him even a single time. Six times did she slash, in unison with Roswyn, and six times did Allistair narrowly avoid her strikes.

Pip, who had just been riddled with holes by Beezul, also burst into a cloud of shadows, appearing in the air next to him with a fresh pair of leathery bat wings erupting from his back.

He looked down on the kobold, even as short as he was, and lunged forwards. Stabbing his clawed left hand into Beezul’s right side, Pip grabbed the kobold’s shoulder with his other hand, then leaned in, and bit him on the neck. Blood gushed from Beezul’s neck wound into Pip’s mouth, forcing his own wounds to seal up in kind.

Latched on, Pip withdrew his left hand and attempted to drive it deeper into Beezul’s torso, but Beezul had caught his hand before he could, saving himself another injury. In lieu of his missed strike, Pip drew in another gulp of Beezul’s blood, causing him to start growing dizzy.

Alonzo, seeing the trouble Beezul was getting into, held his palm up, pointed towards Pip, and released a bolt of radiant light. The distracted vampire failed to notice the bolt streaming towards his head until it was too late.

As the bolt separated his head from his neck, Pip watched hid body fall away to the ground below. His final thoughts were of his life before vampirism. Thoughts of living on the streets and picking pockets. Thoughts of how his games went from simple thievery to butchery. Thoughts of…

Pip’s body had burned to ashes before his skeleton impacted the floor below, and Beezul picked the skull from his neck and crushed it between his little hands.

Upon seeing Pip destroyed, Mira let out a cry of remorse, but Alonzo had neither mercy nor hesitation.

Without missing a beat, he pointed towards Roswyn, silently commanding Steve to eliminate her. Steve produced a mace from the same radiance that composed its own body and charged forwards towards the little vampire.

Once. Twice. Three times Steve struck the little vampire from behind, burning her with its radiant mace. She turned towards Steve, eyes big and full of bloody tears, her skull half torn off from its mace.

Dreams of wandering the forest behind her home filled Roswyn’s head. She had gone there with her mother, an elf of unnatural beauty. They had picked herbs together, which her mother used to teach Roswyn to make medicines. She had continued to use those skills, even after she had torn her own mother’s throat out, but not to make medicine.

Four. Five strikes. Roswyn’s final thoughts of pre-seasoning her victims with poisons flashed through her brain as it was flung across the wall behind Mira. The spiciness of the poison paired so well with the sweetness of her victim’s fear. It was just…

Steve stomped upon the little skeleton as its flesh burned away.

Mira, who had been a gifted singer before being turned into a vampire, released a cry unlike any ever heard by the party. Shadows coalesced around her like a shield made from darkness itself.

Dolgrak, suspecting the trouble these shadows might cause, dashed across the room and stabbed at Mira, but the shadows had a different tale in mind.

Like a hand forged from nothingness, the shadows grasped Dolgrak’s blade, stopping it inches from Mira’s throat. Dolgrak quickly withdrew his rapier, hoping to avoid it being wrenched from his hands and went in for another strike. But just as the first hand dissipated, a second appeared from the shadows that surrounded Mira, again catching his rapier.

The shadows around Mira dissipated, but Dolgrak had become dejected and he withdrew.

Beezul, dizzy from blood loss, loaded another bee into his Bee-Bee Gun, first imbuing it with lightning then fired it. At first, it had missed, being off from his unstable state, but as luck had it, the bee arced and bounced off of the wall four times before striking the enraged vampire in the head.

Mira cried out as the lightning bee had split her clean in half down to her stomach. She reached out, unable to fully control her arm, towards Allistair, hoping to grasp him to take his blood to heal herself, but Beezul fired a second bee, severing her hand clean off.

Beezul was disappointed, however, as the little vampire still stood. Eager to put an end to her, he loaded two more bees and shot off each of her legs at the kneecaps. The body tumbled to the floor, but she still groped out at Allistair.

Allistair, not wanting to simply stand by for her to finally grab ahold of him and relieve him of his own blood, swirled in a dervish with his shadow blade, hitting her three times. Each strike passed harmlessly through the vampire, leaving no marks, but shattered her mind a little more each time.

Broken in both mind and body, Mira held still for a moment. To her, moments seemed like ages as she began to hum to herself. She hummed like she had when she was just a little girl. She used to sing sweet songs to her siblings, the very same she used to perform for her village, before she was turned that is. After that her songs were only used to lure prey into the darkness before she took them.

Mira used her intact arm to reach across her torso, pulling her body back together. Her wound sealed itself up, and her missing hand and legs began to mend and regrow.

She snarled, dodging a few more swings from Allistair, then leapt towards the easiest target, the easiest source of blood that she could reach.

Propelling herself with her one intact arm, Mira reached out and grasped Dolgrak, stabbing her claws into his right shoulder. She swung herself around and planted her teeth around his throat, and began to tear into him.

Dolgrak let out a cry of pain as the little vampire latched onto him and began sucking blood from him feverishly. With each ounce taken, more and more of her limbs regrew.

As Dolgrak tore at the little vampire, trying to wrench her off of him, Steve took a single swing at her, separating her from her supper. A moment later, Mira splatted against a wall, and turned to bones and ashes.

Steve, at Alonzo’s command, closed the distance and made sure this one’s corpse was reduced to nothing more than dust and fragments.

All panting, except for Alonzo, the four took a moment to catch their breaths and exchange concerns with one another before quaffing potions to heal their injuries and continuing on into the vampire’s lair.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 36 Pt. 3

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 07/29/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 36 Pt. 3

This part of this week’s tale begins with the world stopping around the party, and an unknown draconian emerging from a bright rift in the sky. As it stepped down upon the deck of the captured skyship, it forced Dolgrak to the deck, and turned the fleeing child cultists into frogs.

The draconian strode across the deck, sending suspended raindrops flying violently in all directions, and turned to descend the stairs to the deck below.

Instantly, Alonzo and Beezul felt an immense pressure overcome their bodies as they watched the children they were instructing instinctively flee and burst into frogs. While Alonzo managed to remain (relatively) calm, Beezul began to panic at the sight of the draconian.

"AAH!" he screamed, "You can have my eggs!"

Beezul turned and attempted to flee, but similarly burst into a frog.

He stood there a moment and croaked. All thoughts and fears that he once had faded away into emptiness.

"Where is she?" bellowed the draconian to Alonzo. "Are you in charge of this ship? Where are your associates? Where is Mikayla?"

Alonzo froze, outwardly maintaining his composure, but inwardly fightning off an encroaching panic attack.

"I don't know who Mikayla is, but Prinze and Allistair are below deck, handling an ogre."

In the frightened commotion, Allistair and Prinze emerged onto the crew deck to see a familiar face, albeit one enraged almost beyond recognition, baring down upon Alonzo.

Prinze rushed forwards, posturing himself between the draconian and Alonzo, saying, "Hey Arkalai. Long time no see."

The frog that was formed from Beezul let out high-pitched call, breaking the tension.

"Oh hell yeah! Looks like you killed Beezul!" said Prinze, "That's going to save me some effort."

"Where is she Prinze?" bellowed Arkalai, imposing his presence over Prinze and Allistair.

Prinze winced and replied, "We just found her below deck. You're welcome to help us with her."

"I wasn't asking your permission." snarked Arkalai, "I've been seraching for her for days. Since her magical signature disappeared from my sensors."

He turned and strode below deck into the hold, beholding the sight that was Lady Blackhurst strung up. Allistair, Alonzo, and Prinze followed behind.

"I think I can help." said Alonzo.

"How?" demanded Arkalai.

"I'm a cleric. I can heal her." said Alonzo.

Arkalai's expression softened at his generosity, and he quietly said, "Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you."

Suddenly, the world began ticking forward once more, unaware of its break in sequence. The rain began to fall again in sheets, and the skyship and Skyland continued their arcing paths towards each other.

Together, the four tended to Lady Blackhurst's wounds and released her from her restraints. Arkalai cleaned her with a flick of his hand and conjured clothes around her with the other.

"Mikayla, are you alright? Did they harm you?" asked Arkalai.

"Thanks to them I think I'll be fine." she replied, "But I have some grim news."

The attention of the four were locked on her as she continued, "When they captured me, the cult recovered the Chromatic Masks that I had. They have all five again, and they have a connection that can get them the five eggs that they had grown months ago to rebirth the consorts of the Chromatic Queen. We're back to step one."

"That is troubling indeed." said Arkalai, "With those back in their possession, this plane will not be long-lived."

He turned towards Prinze, "Your wraps there, they contain an Aspect of Jotunn, do they not?"

"Yeah, I think so." said Prinze.

Arkalai looked over the three members of the party, "I would like you to do something for me, and I think it's an objective currently in line with your own. I would like for you to take down the cult of the Chromatic Queen; slay or capture its Oracles, Justiciars, and leaders; and recover the Chromatic Masks they hold and the five chromatic eggs they have created to recall the Chromatic Queen."

Allistair and Alonzo nodded, but Prinze began to retort, "Why don't we just kill everybody, break their things, and smash the eggs?"

"You may kill the cultists and their leadership, but the Oracles and Justiciars are more valuable captured alive. As for the masks, you'd be hard pressed to destroy them, as they are powerful artifacts, and the eggs may be volatile. It would be safer if they were recovered and stored away for safekeeping." said Arkalai.

"Do you have any idea where to find these... everything?" asked Allistair? "That's quite the grocery list you're asking for, and we don't know where anything is other than the temple below us."

"I've been fairly passive to this point in your journey, but I believe I'm going to take a little more of an active role to increase the chances of success. You have one temple before you. My network can locate the other four and relay that information to you. You should be able to find the masks with the Oracles, and the Oracles guarded by their Justiciars. As for the eggs, I believe Beezul might know something about their location." said Arkalai.

Allistair nodded, taking mental notes for their coming quest.

Allistair then reached out his hand towards Prinze, saying, "Here, Prinze. As a sign of good faith."

Prinze hesitated before taking Arkalai's hand. His eyes rolled back into his skull, and his consciousness was drawn within him.

At first Prinze stood next to Arkalai in a vast darkness, but Arkalai took a step, causing ripples to appear beneath him. The two walked silently in stride for a few moments before a figure began to appear on an invisible horizon. As they approached it, the figure grew larger and larger until it towered over the pair.

It sat kneeled in the darkness, a storm giant in regal armor shackled to the darkness. It looked up, eyes glazed over, and saw nothing. But Arkalai reached out a hand an touched him, clearing his eyes.

"Arkalai, old friend. It has been some time." it said.

"Wrath of Jotunn. It has. You've been sealed away within these wraps for all of these years, and this child has come to free you." said Arkalai.

Prinze scowled at being called a child. After all, he did stand a head and chest over Arkalai. But he said nothing, believing the draconian to be of an incredible, unknown age.

"Jotunn, old friend. Won't you provide your power to this youngling? Won't you feed his rage against your ancient enemy?"

The giant thought for a moment before raising its arms. At first they caught on invisible chains, but he flexed and tugged at his unseen restraints, shattering them with an audible clink.

The Wrath of Jotunn stood, towering far above the pair of draconians, stretched, then reached down to poke Prinze in the chest with his massive finger.

"You will channel my wrath and bring an end to my ancient enemy." he commanded, then shattered into millions of red particles that surrounded Prinze and steeped into him.

Suddenly, Prinze's consciousness was released back into the material world.

Over the last few seconds, Allistair, Alonzo, and Lady Blackhurst watched as Prinze grabbed the hand of Arkalai. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, and his tongue lolled out. A few moments later, his wrist wraps began to glow and his eyes returned to their normal position, wider than normal.

"Well that was weird." said Prinze.

"Visiting Jotunn usually is." replied Arkalai, "But he has seen fit to ascend your Dragonbutcher's Shackles. Use them well, and be wary of crossing the will of Jotunn."

The group went silent for a moment then Allistair let out a chuckle, "Oh yes. Prinze, wary of crossing another powerful being. Good luck with that."

Laughter followed for a minute, then Arkalai prepared to depart.

"I will be taking Lady Blackhurst back to the Guild for a time. Call upon me whenever you've recovered something for me." he said.

"Will Lady Blackhurst come back to Sky's Reach when she's recovered?" asked Allistair.

"Yes." said Arkalai, "If she wants to."

Lady Blackhurst looked down at Allistair and gave him a subtle nod before her and Arkalai disappeared in a flash of light.

The three looked at one another for a moment, contemplating their thoughts when screaming began to echo across the decks of the ship. The three rushed above deck to the main deck, finding all of the children, and Beezul, had been returned to their normal forms.

They cried out in fear and panic in the rain as Dolgrak shakily brought the skyship down towards Sky's Reach.

Everybody braced for a rough landing as Allistair asked, "What's our plan for them?"

"Jail?" asked Beezul.

"Labor camps." said Prinze.

"I guess if they..." began Alonzo.

The ship impacted the main thoroughfare of Sky's Reach, skidding to a halt and leaving behind a trail of shredded hull behind it.

"I guess we survived." continued Alonzo. "Hey! You lot! Are you fanatical cultists or just in it for the money?" he shouted at the children.

He received a mixed bag of answers, finding that most of them were simply down on their luck.

"You work for me now." he commanded.

Most of the children began to nod, but a few were hesitant.

"Three meals, a cot, and a bit of pay. That's what you'll get. No questions asked. Anybody who doesn't like those terms can leave." he said, pointing to the edge of the Skyland.

The hesitant few quickly fell in line at this enticing proposal.

"Guess I got that taken care of." Alonzo said to the party. "I think I'm going to take care of this for a bit. Let me know when it's time to attack the temple. Alright you lot! File in! Follow me!"

Allistair and Beezul shrugged and began to split off to go their own way, but Prinze grabbed Beezul by the shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"Uum. To spend time with the Kobolds?" replied Beezul.

"Not yet you aren't. Where are the five eggs you didn't give to Arkalai?' asked Prinze.

"Oh... he told you about those?" said Beezul, beginning to shake. "Uum... would you believe me if I told you I traded them to Sylverfang for some enchanted honey that made the hive stronger?"

Rage began to build up across Prinze's face, "You what?" he said shortly.

"Yeah... I..."

"Get out of my sight." interrupted Prinze. "I have to sort through this."

Beezul hurriedly left to spend the rest of the morning with the Kobolds.

Prinze sighed heavily, then disappeared into the tunnels that wound within Sky's Reach. He knew they had all been magically sealed somehow by Sylverfang, and that she made her lair beyond them in the heart of the Skyland, but he couldn't figure out how to bypass the seals.

The seals themselves appeared as nothing more than a simple cave in. Large boulders blocking tunnel, but Prinze had been unable to get any of the giants to help him to move them, as each time they were brought down here they became possessed by the sneaky dragon's enchantments.

Fingering his amulet, Prinze attempted to stone shape the boulders, but it was to no avail. He then approached a boulder and gave it a solid punch, hoping to shatter it. It felt unnaturally hard, and his punch, while trained to shatter boulders, felt as if it would instead shatter his own arm. Perhaps there was an illusion or something that was forcing him to hold back?

He tried one last thing before turning and leaving the tunnel for another time. He backed up a fair distance, then closed his eyes, and broke out into a dead sprint, leaping at the last second and flinging his body into the (supposedly) illusory stones.

A moment later, Prinze found himself crumpled across the floor in pain. He gasped, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him, then stood and sulked out of the tunnel.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and the next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 36 Pt. 2

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 07/29/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 36 Pt. 2

This part of this week’s tale begins with Allistair witnessing the cultist he had just convinced to lay down his arms falling before him with a crossbow bolt in his forehead. Behind him, Allistair witnessed Dolgrak lowering his crossbow from behind the wheel, calling out, "I've got you Allistair!"

Allistair sighed in irritation. He had forgotten that Dolgrak and Prinze weren't in earshot to hear his peaceable arrangement, and he knew that Prinze likely hadn't been able to discern their age beneath their robes, or his unquenchable bloodlust..

"Well, seems you've got this handled." said Prinze as he dropped to the deck below, stomping on one of the sleepy cultists that had emerged from one of the cabins, breaking her neck on impact. Satisfied with himself, the nine-foot tall draconian walked down the stairs onto the lower deck and peered over a group of sleepy cultist teenagers with hate in his eyes. They stared back at him confused and paralyzed with fear.

Prinze reached out a hand and gently placed it on one of their shoulders, staring into the boy's eyes before shoving his head abruptly into that of another nearby boy, shattering their skulls against one another. Both crumpled to the floor in a heap.

He strode in, with the wraps of his Dragonbutcher Shackles unfurling, as he began to spin around to decapitate burgeoning cultists around him.

A darkness welled up within Prinze, one that the aspect of Jotunn contained within his wraps had not imparted upon him, infecting the rest of the party with his bloodlust.

Alonoz dropped the fresh, skeletal arm, wiped his hands upon his robes, and grabbed the nearest cultist to him, throwing him off the side of the deck. The growing darkness, cast by the encroaching storm above, coupled with the heavy falling of rain masked the sounds of the screams and cries of the cultists as the party began to tear into them.

Beezul, normally the first to fire, contemplated the age of the cultists for a moment before concluding that they were taller than him, making their deaths not his problem. He reloaded his Bee-Bee Gun and entered the nearby door where one of the cultists had emerged, finding a half-dressed girl. Without a second though he put a bee through her forehead, leaving behind a bloody splatter on the wall and bed behind her.

The last remaining cultist adjacent to Allistair, the one who had hesitated to attack at first, charged him, attempting to shove him down the stairs before pouncing upon him and strangling him while he fell down the stairs. Unfortunately for him, Allistair again sidestepped the attack, tripping the child and causing him to instead tumble down the stairs, landing at the feet of Prinze.

Three of the sleepy, frightened cultists below deck turned and ran towards the stern, throwing up a pair of bunks as a barrier between them and the encroaching nightmare. Another two ran towards Prinze as he stomped down towards the head of the lad that had tumbled down the stairs, both grabbing onto one of his arms attempting to restrain him. Another three charged over the barrier with daggers drawn with intent of putting an end to the draconian.

*Prinze ceased swinging his wraps, simply taring down towards the cultists as they drove their daggers into his torso as his foot stomped down onto the head of the cultists that had rolled down the stairs into him. The boy's skull crushed beneath his foot, and Prinze looked over the three that had stabbed him.

He could have avoided the attacks, simply batting away their daggers, but he wanted the cultists to have one last glimmer of hope before he tore away all of their hopes and dreams.

Frightened, the children stared up into Prinze's eyes, noticing they were filled with rage. They twisted the daggers, plunging them deeper into the looming nightmare. But he didn't react. Not initially.

After a pregnant moment, a smile twisted over Prinze's face, and his body began to spin. Like a macabre dance, he lashed out his Dragonbutcher's Shackles, decapitating the cultists within arm's distance. He then charged forwards, kicking the makeshift barricade, crushing the three hiding behind it against the wall.

Two more charged him from behind, but in a flash, Prinze tore the daggers from his torso and flung them around, embedding two in the eyes of one cultist, and the third in the stomach of the other.

He gave the bunk one last kick, resulting in the cracking of spines and ribs, before turning to the impaled cultist. Reaching down, he grabbed her by the throat and lifted her to the ceiling above. He pulled the dagger from her torso and dropped it to the deck, then grasped her ankles with the same arm.

With a slight tug, empowered by the titanic strength embedded within his wraps, he tore her in two, drenching himself in her blood. The final three cultists promptly wet themselves before turning and attempting to flee up the stairs.

Prinze, blinded by hate and rage, leapt across the deck, grabbing one by the ankles and swinging him around into another, breaking both of their spines on impact. The final cultist crawled up the steps, but was pulled back down by the ankles by the nine-foot monstrosity.

He held the lad upside down by his ankle and stared at him for a moment. In the moment of hesitation, the boy produced a dagger and stabbed it into Prinze's chest. They both looked at the embedded dagger for a moment, then locked eyes.

Prinze grabbed the cultist by the throat and the shoulders and separated his skull and spinal column from the rest of his body, roaring in bloody victory.*

Prinze withdrew from the horrors of his own mind, and stared down at the cultists as they plunged the daggers into his torso. He could have batted away the attacks, but shame had overcome him as he realized that all of these cultists were nothing more than children, teenagers by all rights, entitling them to an occasional ass-kicking, but children nonetheless.

His rage and hatred had blinded him, so he reasoned that the only immediate recompense was to allow them to "defend themselves" by stabbing him.

Prinze's arms then fell slack and the wraps of the Dragonbutcher's shackles withdrew. He could not bring himself to consciously kill younglings, even if they were cult younglings. When he froze, the children froze as well. A stalemate of sorrow and fear.

Alonzo and Allistair descended the stairs, with Allistair calling out in a smooth tone over the beating storm, "Prinze, they're just kids."

Prinze looked back at him, rage replaced by sorrow, "I wish you could have told me that before I went on a rampage."

Allistair looked towards the least frightful of the children and asked, "Child, can you make the rest stop resisting so we can try to resolve this situation?"

The child withdrew his dagger from Prinze, charging Allistair and shouting, "Resist this you piece of shit!"

In one quick movement, Alonzo backhanded the dagger from the child's grasp, and slapped him across the face, shouting, "Sit down and shut the fuck up then."

The kid fell back, released his bowels, and began to cower as he pair finished their descent.

Alonzo asked, "Now, who runs this ship?"

"We do now." replied Allistair.

"Well, I know that. I mean, who is the adult here?"

"I'm an adult!" replied Prinze.

Alonzo grasped the bridge of his nose, pulled out a cigar, and lit it. He took a long drag off of it, flicked his ash towards the makeshift barricade, and blew his smoke towards the children still grappling Prinze.

"I believe this is our ship now." said Alonzo as beezul, followed by a host of angry bees descended the stairs behind him.

The remaining cult children all dropped their daggers and began to cower.

"Go on, scoot over there." said Alonzo, gesturing towards the stern hull.

As the children withdrew from around him, Prinze's head dropped low and he quietly ascended the stairs onto the main deck. He stood there for a few minutes, taking in deep breaths of wet air in an attempt to shake the guilt that crept beneath his skin.

As he stood silently in the rain, Allistair emerged from below deck in search of the captain's quarters. He went inside of the first cabin that had not yet been opened and began to rifle through the bed and nearby footlocker, and after a few minutes he managed to find a shipping manifest.

Shuffling through its pages, Allistair found the most current records, noting "new recruits" and "important - ogre". Concerned, he emerged on the main deck and touched Prinze's shoulder.

"I know you're having a moment right now, but this says there's an ogre somewhere on the ship." he said, shaking the manifest at Prinze. "Want to help me with that? Maybe you can command it with your wraps?"

Prinze stared down at the wraps that had blinded him with rage... or was that his own rage?

"Yeah, I can see what I can do." he replied.

The two ventured below deck and over towards Alonzo who was lining out the children.

"What do you know about he ogre?" Allistair asked to the group.

"There's one in the hold." replied one.

"I think that's the precious cargo." said another.

"It smells pretty bad." said a third.

Allistair nodded, and Prinze followed him below deck into the hold. While they ventured down, Beezul helped Alonzo in questioning the children, and giving them instructions for how things were going to be after they've returned to the Skyland.

Once below deck, it was a simple task for Allistair and Prinze to locate the ogre. She was massive and grotesque, obese beyond any normal means, and likely unable to walk, even if she hadn't been obviously beaten and tortured for some time.

The ogre was strung up, held aloft by massive chains, suspended between the hull and the deck above. Her rolls of fat concealed the shackles around her wrists and ankles, and the pair were unable to discern the difference between her breasts and sagging rolls of fat.

As the two approached, she lifted her head, neck rolls jiggling as she did. They recognized her, not only by the scale of her shear girth, but the hideous visage that she carried with her. The ogre's thin, wet, blonde hair gave way to an asymmetrical face adorned with a large, grotesque mole set upon her forehead.

Lady Blackhurst, while a gentle soul and valued merchant of adventuring gear, both magical and mundane, was by all measures grotesque and unsightly.

"Allistair? Is that you?" she asked, slowly with labored breathing?

"Yes. It's me. Can I get you a potion of healing?" he asked.

She chuckled and coughed, "I think I'm going to need more than that."

"What's this?" asked Prinze, as he reached for a wicked looking necklace tightened around her neck.

Lady Blackhurst finished the potion offered to her by Allistair, then replied, "I'm unsure. They put it upon me when they captured me, after besieging Wyvern's Tor."

Prinze gave the necklace a quick jerk, snapping it off.

Dolgrak stood above deck, at the helm, attempting to bring the skyship around and onto Sky's Reach. The rain had been battering him and making it difficult to steer, but just as the Skyland had come into view, it stopped. Everything stopped.

The Skyland, the rain, the ship. Everything but himself. He took a moment and looked around, seeing nothing but stillness and hearing nothing but silence for several seconds. Then a tearing sound emerged from the air just above the center of the main deck, followed by a bright light as the air itself was torn open.

First, a pair of red, clawed hands emerged from thin air, then, as the air was ripped apart like a sheet of cloth, they were followed by a head and body.

Dolgrak felt his body become heavy as gravity itself seemed to increase drastically, and before he fell to the deck himself, he watched as two children on the main deck fall flat.

The creature that emerged from the rift was cloaked in black and gold robes. It appeared to be a draconian, red of scale, with a mohawk and beard of colorful feathers, making a rainbow. A long, scaled tail and a pair of large, red wings trailed behind it as it stepped its clawed feet down on the deck and peered around.

Its expression was one of rage, and it peered down at the children as they tried to rise in fear and flee. A light flashed across its eyes and, in an instant, both children turned into frogs.

That is where this part of this week’s tale ends, and the next part begins.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 36 Pt. 1

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 07/29/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 36 Pt. 1

This week’s tale begins with our intrepid adventurers awakening to the blaring sounds of sirens.

Each member of the party awoke suddenly from the blaring echoes of sires, courtesy of Sky's Reach's Kobold Alarm System, which was in fact not a typical alarm system as one would know it, rather, it was a coordinated system, as coordinated as Kobolds can be at any point in time, of Kobolds positioning themselves in the optimal locations for their voices to carry while they shouted at the tops of their little lungs.

Although an abrupt awakening, each member of the party awoke sluggishly and prepared themselves, not at all unexpecting of the impending alarm. They all gathered at the foot of Blagothskul's tower, high above the forest below.

Prinze had ordered Blagothskul to make sure Sky's Reach was high above in the clouds, then deployed the skyland's cloaking system to make it appear as nothing more than a large stormfront moving in.

After stretching, yawning, and wiping the sleepies from their eyes, the party started at one another and awaited a report from Blagothskul. After several moments of tired silence, Blagothskul appeared.

"My lord." he said to Prinze, "We have arrived at our destination. We are hovering a few thousand feet above the temple hidden within the Veiled Forest. I am unsure if we have been spotted or not, but the temple has deployed a skyship that is rising steadily. What is it you command?"

Prinze let out a yawn before replying, "We could shell them with the mortars."

"That might alert the whole island." replied Allistair.

Prinze shrugged, and Beezul asked, "What if we follow them. Then we can..."

Prinze interrupted, "Shell them! Good idea!"

"We could also hijack the skyship." said Dolgrak.

Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze stared at Dolgrak for a moment before he continued, "What? I was a pirate before I joined up here."

"No, that's a good idea." said Alonzo.

The rest of the party nodded in agreement.

"Do you guys have spells to get there?" asked Prinze to Alonzo and Dolgrak.

Alonzo nodded, but Dolgrak shrugged nervously.

Prinze stared down at him, "Can you fly?"

"No, not yet." replied Dolgrak.

"Can you land?" asked Prinze.

"What?" said Dolgrak in surprise, "I..."

Alonzo interrupted, "I have a solution to your ranged problem by the way." he said as he handed a crossbow and some bolts to Dolgrak. "It's a magical crossbow and some bolts. You know, so you can shot things."

"Uuh, thanks." said Dolgrak as he took the gift from Alonzo.

"So, what's the plan for boarding?" asked Allistair.

"We could have Blagothskul approach it from above, make them shit themselves, and then take over the ship!" shouted Prinze enthusiastically.

Everybody stared at him for a moment before shrugging and nodding in agreement.

"That sounds on par." said Allistair, "Does anybody else need help flying? I can cast a flying spell on myself and somebody else."

"I would appreciate that." said Dolgrak as he drew his rapiers, readying for boarding.

Prinze gave Blagothskul the command to trail behind the skyship with Sky's Reach, descending down rapidly as an intimidation tactic.

Blagothskul nodded in approval of the plan, saying, "As you wish my lord." before ascending his tower and sending Sky's Reach flying on its new trajectory in the darkness of the early morning.

Allistair took a few moments to cast his flying spell over himself and Dolgrak. While Dolgrak struggled to gain control of this new mode of flight, Allistair flitted effortlessly across the surface of Sky's Reach.

The party gathered at the front gates of Sky's Reach, which, as a seemingly odd design decision, were a pair of massive stone doors that opened into the void of the sky that surrounded the Skyland.

"I'm not really sure how I'm going to capture this skyship yet. I've never stolen a skyship, just regular ships." said Dolgrak as he strategized.

"You know," started Prinze, "Jump down there. Kill some things. Do captain things. We have faith in you."

Sky's Reach descended down towards the skyship, first to where the lower tip of it hovered just above its deck, then lower to where its gates became level with the skyship's deck.

The party watched as the crew of the skyship began to panic at the sudden appearance of a flying island, not only keeping pace, but weighing thousands of times as much as the skyship itself.

"Here we go!" shouted Prinze as he slapped Dolgrak on the back, causing him to stumble forwards, off of Sky's Reach.

As Prinze followed Dolgrak off of the edge of the Skyland, memories that were never his overcame Dolgrak.

*Memories of being a bit taller, hairier, and more wicked. Dolgrak, peering through the eyes of Blinky Finn, a catfolk who wandered solemnly across the plains, he stopped and looked up into the sky. A thick, black cloud of smoke trailed behind a skyship as it plummeted towards him.

He dropped down his knees and sobbed. He had lost everything. By drawing a single card he had lost it all. All of his possessions disappeared in a card game, or rather, after drawing a single card from a magical deck. In the past he had drawn from it recklessly, coming into immense wealth, fame, and fortune. But this time had taken it all.

Anything he had that wasn't innately magical vanished into nothingness. Perhaps some unknown benefactor was laughing at him from an unknown distance. Perhaps the poor and hungry were finally being fed? Or perhaps it was just gone?

It wasn't all gone, he thought in his final moments, at least it wasn't until he had left the rest behind. All of his magical gear and artifacts were left behind... only, without their magical properties. Even the cloak that had guided him for so long lost its magics, releasing the djinn within. She had had a laugh at him before she left.

Blinky started up at the impending skyship, grasped his horns, which were a remnant from some fiendish deal he had ignorantly made, as he closed his eyes and wept. It was silent and peaceful for but a moment, then suddenly, he opened his eyes once more to see the blazing inferno that was the encroaching skyship inches away from his face.*

Shocked from the impact, Dolgrak came back into his own body and tried to recover from Prinze's shove. His attempted recovery only made matters worse, however, as his stumble forward became a full tumble and roll off of the side of Sky's Reach and onto the deck of the skyship. He felt safe for the moment before he felt a length of rope entangle itself around his leg and drag him from the side of the ship.

He dangled there for a moment, trailing behind the skyship as he watched Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze safely cross onto the deck. Dolgrak took in a deep breath, then began to swing himself around. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and... he flung himself around, underneath the starboard hull, then the keel, then the port hull, and finally onto the port deck.

Dolgrak landed on two feet, untied the rope, and regained his composure just as he saw Prinze dive bomb from above and onto the head of the pilot, breaking his neck.

As the various members of the party gained their footing upon the skyship and prepared to strike at their respective targets, Prinze charged forwards to the wheel, grabbing it and abruptly spinning it. The ship lurched, first into the side of the Skyland, then away from it as it bounced.

In the sudden lurch, Dolgrak lost his footing and slipped, sliding across the deck into the rail. Oddly enough, although he was hovering above the deck, Beezul was also sent tumbling across the deck as the lurching ship bumped into him, causing him to lose control over his flight.

Alonzo managed to maintain his footing with ease, getting the hang of Prinze's shenanigans, although, coincidentally, Prinze had not, nearly losing control of the wheel as the ship lurched. Allistair, who was naturally adhered to the deck through a trait inherent to his race, was also sent flying, however, the rest of the party would be unsure to this day if he truly lost his footing or if he was having a sudden flare for the dramatic.

The party weren't the only inhabitants of the skyship to be sent flying as it lurched and bounced off of the side of Sky's Reach. All of the living members of the crew were promptly upended and sent tumbling across the deck.

Alonzo, always one to capitalize on an enemy's weakness, strode across the deck as the skyship righted itself, reached out a hand to a fallen crewmember, and proceeded to flood his body with necrotic energy as he grasped it, first inflicting wounds, then causing the very flesh to slough off of his bones. It was then that Alonzo realized that this cultist soldier was nothing more than a child, hardly older than twelve. He looked around to see if anybody else had seen what he had just done and noticed the whole crew was composed of children.

Dolgrak jumped to his feet, rushed to the wheel, and shoved Prinze aside, taking control of the skyship. He spun the wheel around, righting it and shifting the ship's weight in a way that would cause it to slow. Gaining control over the skyship, Dolgrak looked over the rail to assess the situation.

Prinze stood next to him, shifting his attention from the wheel to the cultists below. Dolgrak could see bloodlust welling within his eyes as he vaulted over the rail to the deck below.

Beezul, regaining control over his own body, stood and took aim at what he believed was the captain that sent him flying. Producing his Bee-Bee Gun, Beezul loaded it, charged it with lightning, and fired it at the captain... or at least that's what he was prepared to do before realizing it was Dolgrak.

He ran the scenario through his mind for a moment, contemplating how Dolgrak could have made the ship lurch if he had only landed upon the ship before being sent flying himself. Beezul shook the thoughts away, buzzed over to a nearby door, opened it, and shot the first cultist he saw.

The electrified bee rocketed from the wooden tube, piercing the forehead of the cultist, causing her head to erupt in a splash of bone fragments and viscera.

Beezul quickly loaded a second bee and shot the second cultist within the room, warranting a similar result.

Allistair nimbly rose from the deck, brushed himself off, drew his Ebonblade, and conjured forth another magical blade of shadows.

*Now Allistair's Ebonblade wasn't necessarily a sentient magical item, but it did possess a certain amount of jealousy for his shadow blade. What did that second-tier spell have over itself? It was the Ebonblade. A rapier like no other, forged of shadows and moonlight. Its violet blade was beautiful and unique, its crossguard and pommel ornate in the form of ravens, and its grips padded with soft, comfortable feathers.

In contrast, the shadow blade was nothing more than a temporary, amorphous mass of shadows. It had no beauty, no elegance, no permanence. What did its master see in it?

The Ebonblade, increasingly frustrated by Allistair's neglect, was created to free its creators from their curse, to slay the most powerful vampire to exist. It could siphon the very life from its victims and impart it into its wielder. A prized relic from a past age.

And yet, Allistair typically chose this low-tier, trash spell over using it, the Ebonblade.

At least, that's what the Ebonblade would be thinking if it possessed sentience.*

Equipped with his weapons, Allistair began to stride forwards, twirling his blades in circles around him, causing them to sing a high-pitched whirring song.

Just as Allistar began his blade song, two cultists burst forth sleepily from nearby doors, seeing Allistair twirling his blades and Alonzo grasping the hand of an ally while his flesh fell away from his bones.

One of the cultists, a young man, drew a dagger and charged forwards at Allistair, stabbing at him. Without losing his stride, Allistair side-stepped the boy, slapping the back of his hand with the Ebonblade. The lad stopped and took another slice at Allistair who simply raised the shadow blade, stopping the dagger mid swing.

"You know." Said Allistair in a suave voice, "Peace is an option. We don't really want to kill children."

"Agreed!" shouted Prinze, "Pieces is the only option!"

Alonzo looked up, grasping the skeletal arm around the elbow, waving the hand at the child and smiling.

The head of another cultist peaked out from below deck, a young girl, and she froze as she beheld the sight of the dead captain and falling skeleton at Alonzo's feet.

"Have you stopped to consider what might happen if you don't choose a peaceful option?" asked Allistair.

As Allistair finished, a bolt of lightning cracked behind the child who had attempted to stab him, causing the boy to jump. He dropped his dagger and anxiously nodded his head as it began to rain.

Suddenly, the boy dropped to his knees with a crossbow bolt sticking from his forehead. Behind him, Dolgrak lowered his crossbow and called out, "I've got you Allistair!"

That is where this part of this week’s tale ends, and the next part begins.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 35 Pt. 2

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 07/08/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 35 Pt. 2

This part of this week’s tale begins with Prinze shouting, “Skjalvarn!” after remembering the Ice Giant had not yet been cured of the influence of the Wish Dragon Sylverfang.

Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze sprinted towards the large dome house of the Ice Giant Skjalvarn, who had been saved from his freezing prison months prior in the frozen north.

As they dashed, Allistair reconjured his shadowy blades, Beezul reloaded his Bee-Bee Gun, and Prinze cocked his fists in preparation of the coming savage battle.

Once they had closed the distance to Skjalvarn’s door, Prinze reached forward and banged on it with his fists. A moment passed, and the Ice Giant ducked down to stare at the dragonkin and his party.

“Yes my lord? What brings you here on this day? Is it about the shifting of Sky’s Reach?” asked Skjalvarn.

“Get him Beezul! Hold him down… wait. You aren’t being influenced by a dragon are you?” asked Prinze.

“No my lord.” Replied Skjalvarn.

“Very well. Continue on. We’ll call upon you for battle one day soon.”

“Yes my lord.” Said Skjalvarn as he reached for the door.

Beezul, who was still riled up from the recent battle, and half way through a lunge at the giant, instead beat him to it, slamming it before Skjalvarn could grab ahold of it.

The four stood there and looked at one another for a minute.

“Alright, I guess it’s time to cleanse this problem.” Said Prinze.

“I thought we already took care of her?” replied Alonzo.

“To which problem are you speaking of?” asked Allistair/

“You aren’t killing my kobold brethren!” shouted Beezul, “Oh, wait… you mean Sylverfang.”

“No, I also mean the kobolds.” Replied Prinze.

“You aren’t killing my kobold brethren!” shouted Beezul once again, “They aren’t that kind of problem!”

“How do you know Charlos isn’t being controlled?” asked Prinze, “He’s part dragon, right?”

“No more than you or me.” Said Beezul.

“My point exactly!” replied Prinze, “but the deal is I take myself out, then take you out last.”

“Who was Charlos again?” asked Alonzo.

“He’s the Toragon chef that we saved from the ruins of our old keep. We actually saved him a few minutes before we met you.” Said Prinze, “And he’s probably a dragon cult spy!”

“He’s not part of the dragon cult! And neither are the kobolds!” shouted Beezul.

“Let’s go see then.” Said Prinze as he marched off towards the newly renovated kitchens.

Clear on the other side of Sky’s Reach, and nested upon the lower level, were the Kitchens, now aptly named the Sky’s Reach Kitchen by a magically glowing sign set above the door.

Prinze burst through the doors, followed behind by Allistair, Alonzo, and Beezul, expecting to find its normal chaos. Where he had hoped to make his case over kobolds swinging from a chandelier, taking a dip in the soup of the day, and chasing each other across the filthy floors, as he’d observed many times before, he was instead greeted by Order.

Now, she hadn’t always been called Order, in fact, just a few weeks prior she went by the name of Krig Brark, Gnawer of Ankles, but once the kitchens had been renovated, and the new housing for the kobolds had been constructed, the big mean turtle, which some called Chief Charlos, had given all of them new names.

Order, as she had been named, was responsible for seating customers and taking their orders.

“Eeh… Good dey.” She said in a squeaky voice, “How minny can I seet yew for?”

“What?” aske Prinze in surprise.

“Four will be fine.” Said Allistair.

“Come wif me den.” Replied Order as she let the party to a clean table adorned with a pristine white cloth.

“What?” repeated Prinze, “What happened here?”

“They’ve been gentrified.” Replied Beezul.

“We’ve been elevated into a higher class.” Said Charlos in his deep, raspy draconic voice as he approached, “Thanks to Allistair here.”

Allistair nodded smugly.

“While you were busy building catapults and lasers, he came here and put in some new infrastructure.” Said Charlos, “Welcome to the new Sky’s Reach Kitchens.”

“What happened to the kobolds?” asked Prinze, “They act like real people.”

“Eh, that? Just took a little bit of whipping and training. It’s not that different from kneading dough or baking a cake. Just takes time and a little bit of elbow grease.” Replied Charlos as he flexed his scaly elbows.

As Charlos raised his arms, and flexed his elbows, each kobold within the Sky’s Reach Kitchens instinctively flinched in fear before returning to work with a renewed fervor.

“Kobolds do like to serve dragons.” Said Beezul.

“That they do.” Said Charlos as he produced a cloth, wiped his hands on it, and dropped it to the floor.

Order lunged for the cloth, catching it, folding it, and placing it back into Charlos’ pocket before it could hit the ground.

“Well done Order.” Said Charlos, “Now, take these folks’ orders while I get back to the kitchen.”

“Yes sir.” Replied Order.

The party looked amongst themselves before Allistair asked, “Can we get a menu?”

“We don’ have menyooz.” Replied Order, “Fizz exploded the press, an’ Rivet couldn’ fix it.”

“What is being served today then?” asked Allistair.

“Todey we have spice’ sky nuts as ‘er app-e-tyzer. An’ eye-ron kettl’ chili, an’ thun’erberd cutlets. As desert we have ‘earth crisp app-les. An’ fer bev-er-ages we have fros’glass warter.”

Allistair, Alonzo, and Beezul pondered the choices given to them while Prinze’s eyes grew wide, trying to wrap his mind around what was just said to them.

“I think I’ll have a cutlet, the apple crisp, and a glass of the water.” Said Allistair.

“I’ll have the soup and water.” Said Alonzo.

“I’ll take an order of cutlets, the apple crisps, and some tea.” Said Beezul.

“Sorry ser, but we don’ have any tea. Jus’ warter.” Replied Order.

“Is there any tea in the back?” asked Beezul.

“Nosir.”

Beezul sighed loudly, “Fine. I guess I’ll take a glass of water.”

“I’ll just take a glass of water.” Said Prinze.

Order nodded, curtsied, and departed from the table.

The four stared across the table at each other for a few moments before Alonzo said, “They really turned this place around.”

“Have you ever been here?” asked Beezul.

“Not, but seeing the rest of this place, they really turned it around.” Replied Alonzo.

After a few more moments the food arrived, first with a glass of water for everybody, then a bowl of soup for Alonzo. After a few more moments, and order of cutlets came out for Allistair and Beezul, then, once their main courses had been finished, an order of apple crisps.

Allistair, Alonzo, and Beezul chewed happily, making pleasant conversation with each other while they ate. Prinze sat in silence with his glass of water, albeit, likely the freshest glass of water he had ever had, with the slight twang of an exotic citrus fruit that he loved so much.

Charlos returned to the table once the meal had been finished, asking, “Well, how was it? Money well invested?”

“Excellent.” Said Allistair.

“It ate good.” Said Alonzo.

“More please!” said Beezul.

“Was that water poisoned?” asked Prinze.

The other three stared at him for his rudeness.

“No, I don’t reckon it was.” Replied Charlos.

“Because I wouldn’t be able to tell if it was.” Interrupted Prinze, “But the water was good.”

“Glad you liked it. One of the giants said she harvested it from an iceberg a while back. Awfully generous of her to give some to the kitchens.”

“That was a good army soup.” Said Alonzo, “Were you in the army at some time?”

“I’ve done my time in the military before.” Said Charlos.

“The dragon cult military?” said Prinze as he began to stand.

“No.” chortled Charlos, “Nothing like that. Besides, if I worked for them, why would they have left me how they did?”

“I’m watching you.” Said Prinze as he narrowed his eyes.

A few more pleasantries and compliments were exchanged before Charlos saw the four off, back into the streets of Sky’s Reach.

They went their own ways for a while after that.

Allistair ventured out to check on the state of affairs with the denizens of Sky’s Reach, taking it upon himself to act as a sort of administrator for their affairs. He checked up on the groundskeeper’s family, the various giants and ogres, even the smiths, ensuring all was in order for their operations to continue as normal.

Alonzo went about similarly, checking if any other of the denizens of Sky’s Reach had been possessed as the giants had. Accompanying Allistair for much of his rounds, he found nothing out of order, but felt oddly awkward while around the barmaid.

Beezul spent much of his time inspecting the new housing for the kobolds, intent on discovering signs of abuse or mistreatment. To his surprise, he was unable to. The large housing complex was built in place of the old one, into the sturdy, stony side of Sky’s Reach. It was close to the kitchens where most of the kobolds worked, provided ample space for them inside, and even gave each their own small bedroom to sleep in.

Prinze, however, did not conduct his business as peacefully as the others. For the next several hours he wandered around the surface of Sky’s Reach, shouting towards the ground, the sky, and even the rocks, trying to elicit a response from the hiding Sylverfang. His time, however, would be wasted, and he would not get a response.

After some time had passed, the four had naturally reconvened with each other at the pile of loot taken from the dragon’s hoard. Much of the rest of the evening would be spent bringing coins back into the reserve, separating out treasures and gems, and arguing over the spoils of war.

Before all of the hoard had been sorted through, Allistair and Prinze broke off from the group, debating the usefulness between spoons and forks, incorrectly agreeing that spoons were more useful.

Upon arriving before Hamblin’s Smithy and Funda’s Enchanting, Allistair handed Prinze an onyx fork.

The two entered the combined shop, greeted the shopkeepers, a pair of dwarves. Hamblin, an elderly dwarf with a beard that dragged across the ground and musculature that could crack a dragon’s teeth should it bite down upon him without caution, greeted the two in his usual gruff tone. Funda, a much younger dwarven woman with dark stubble around her chin, greeted in a far more pleasant, if not shrill tone.

“Howdy. Wadda you need?” asked Hamblin.

“Hello.” Called out Funda, “Did you bring us anything fun to work with?”

“I need you to make me some onyx studs for my wraps.” Said Prinze as he leaned close to his wrist wraps and whispered, “You’re going to get piercings.”

Prinze produced a book from his bag and handed it to Funda.

“Here. Educate yourself on this.” He said.

“A manual of onyxcraft huh?” replied Funda, “And what exactly do you hope to accomplish with this?”

“We need onyx weapons to keep some of these higher ranking cult cronies down. Otherwise they just come back… at least we think.” Said Prinze.

“When do you need these by? This is a pretty dense tome, so I reckon it’s going to take some time to parse through it, and learn Hamblin on it.” Said Fund. Hamblin looked up from his works at her. “Also, what are you paying us for this? This seems a pretty hefty project.”

“Rent is due, so that’s your payment.” Say Prinze.

“I don’t think so.” Said Funda, “We don’t pay rent here. You asked us on to work commissions for you.”

“Do this and we’ll call it even then.” Replied Prinze as Allistair rolled his eyes.

“We’ll do it alright, but you’re gonna pay us!” said Funda.

“Fine.” Conceded Prinze, “You can kneecap some of the kobolds. Here’s a fork.”

Prinze handed the onyx fork over to Funda.

“I’ll take a look at it and tell you what I’ll need, and what it’s going to cost you.” She said.

“Can you have if finished before we get to the Veiled Forest?” asked Prinze.

“I haven’t the slightest idea where we are, so I can’t make any promises.” Replied Funda.

“You know… I also don’t know where we are.” Said Prinze.

Allistair and Prinze departed Funda’s and Hamblin’s shops, and the group split once more.

Alonzo, knowing the foes they were going to be fighting, began preparing a magical feast to bolster his companions. Allistair convened with Blagothskul to determine their distance from the temple hidden within the Veiled Forest, reporting “Near midnight.” Back to Prinze. All the while, Beezul and Prinze plotted and bickered about finding a new wife for Blagothskul, but because neither knew any other Cloud Giants, they filed that argument away for another time.

Before their dispute could conclude, however, Prinze began to feel a rustling within one of his bags. He waited to depart from Beezul before checking, but noticed that the four eggs that he had received from his Ssarathi fling, Zistra, had began to pip.

Excitedly, Prinze brought the eggs to the table Alonzo was setting up for their presumed last supper before mounting an assault on the temple hidden within the Veiled Forest.

Setting them on the table excitedly, Prinze waited in anticipation for the little creatures to break through and be born under his watch. The last time he had hatched eggs given to him by Zistra, the very eggs he had initially believed to be breasts but were actually nestled tight against her chest in a cloth sling, they had had hatched into two Ssarathi boys. He had named them Yormun and Gandir.

The next time Prinze was in the capitol, he had delivered the children to Zistra, who was elated by her children, lay with her once more, and was gifted another four eggs. These eggs, however, had taken much longer to hatch, and he had even been gifted with another four on another visit he had made later.

An hour had passed, Alonzo had finished his preparations for the meal, and all four of Prinze’s eggs had hatched. The offspring, however, were not merely more Ssarathi children, but they appeared partially draconic in appearance. Not unlike Prinze himself.

As the party ate, with their newly hatched underlings, Prinze’s fatherly instincts fought against his innate hatred for everything draconic. But one would not have known it by looking at him. He sat there, feeding these babies their first meal, a feast for heroes, and they ate without fuss.

Once the meal had concluded, Prinze took the hatchlings across the thoroughfare towards the Swift’s house. He knocked on the door, then went inside.

Half an hour later, Prinze emerged from the stone dome without the children and rejoined the party.

“Where are the hatchlings?” asked Allistair?

“I left them with Frank.” Replied Prinze, “Once we’re done here we need to take them back to Zistra. Our lifestyle is no place for children.”

“What did Frank say?” asked Allistair.

“Turns out, he also hates Kobolds.” Said Prinze as he departed to Blagothskuls’ tower.

“Interesting.” Said Allistair, “So, when are we planning to attack?”

“How about the morning?” asked Alonzo, “I could rest and recuperate some of my mana.”

“That sounds good.” Said Prinze, “I’ll let Blagothskul know.”

Prinze departed to inform Blagothskul of the plan to rest for the night, then instructed him to bring the skyland down to attack the temple at dawn.

The party had separated and planned their evening rests.

Alone, Alonzo spent some time attuning to his newfound spear, becoming connected with the weapon and learning of its properties. Once he had finished, he began to doze off. But sleep did not take him. Instead, he remembered a chest he had discovered upon the ship where he met this odd band of adventurers.

He reached beneath his bunk and grabbed at the chest, pulling it upon his bed. Playing with the lock for a few minutes, Alonzo managed to get it unlocked. He opened the chest, expecting some sort of treasure, but was instead greeted by a single rubber duck that looked back at him. He wondered what the purpose of such a toy could have within the cult, but decided not to dwell on it any more.

Sky’s Reach fell silent as its denizens drifted off to sleep. But not all slept soundly.

Beezul, safe within his magnificent beehive, twisted and turned. He couldn’t get comfortable. He couldn’t hold still. He had nightmares of Sylverfang, taking from him what he had earned. Taking from him all that he had.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded across Sky’s Reach. Beezul awoke and thumped to the floor. It was much lower than he remembered. He looked over towards a reflective piece of honeycomb and beheld the reflection of a kobold once more.

“Son of a bitch!” he shouted.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and the next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 35 Pt. 1

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 07/08/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 35 Pt. 1

This week’s tale begins with the giants of Sky’s Reach bearing down upon our brave adventuring party, their wills twisted by that of the Wish Dragon Sylverfang.

As the stone giants bore down upon his party, Beezul raised his Bee-Bee Gun once more, again imbuing the bee that he had loaded into it with the sparks of a lightning arrow. His eyes darted between the approaching Wiglof and his wife Hulda as they charged towards Prinze.

Beezul drew his breath in and fired his bee. In a bright flash it rocketed out of the pipe and whirred through Wiglof’s right shoulder.

“Ow! My lord!” shouted Wiglof in his regular monotoned voice.

Beezul fired another bee, this one leaving a hole through Wiglof’s right side. Blood streaked behind him, dripping onto the ground of Sky’s Reach as he called out with another cry of pain.

Growing furious that neither of his shots felled the charging giant, Beezul’s normally misaligned eyes narrowed in and focused on his target. The rough, hairy spines that ran down his head and back stood on end in his fury.

Allistair, not privy to the recent conflicts, emerged at the sounds of shouting from the house of Frank and Linda Swift, the groundskeepers they had saved weeks prior. Allistair’s eyes grew wide with confusion, and he began to charge across the expanse of Sky’s Reach to rejoin his companions.

Far off, on the other side of Sky’s Reach, he could see the dozens of ogres employed as guards and laborers by the masters of the skyland charging towards his group. Each ogre, clad in heavy chain and cast iron helmets, bore a pike, long enough to run two dozen men clean through, and a shield, wide enough to shield a horse in its entirety from the beating sun.

Alonzo, confused as to the sudden aggression of the giants, flew up towards Wiglof, narrowly dodging his swings and laid his hands upon his temple casting a restorative spell.

Instantly, the silvery smoke cleared from Wiglof’s eyes, and his will became his own once more.

Although cured, Wiglof finished his charge towards Prinze, feigning confusion as he punted the dragonkin as hard as he could.

“Sorry my lord. My body was not my own. I did not mean to cause you harm” Said Wiglof as Prinze tumbled backwards.

Wiglof continued his charge however, past Prinze, and terminating before Beezul before punching this dragonkin straight towards the ground.

“I did mean this one, my lord.” Said Wiglof, still maintaining his normal monotone

Wiglof stood still for a moment, after striking Beezul, shook his head and said, “Oh my, my lord. It appears I have regained full control over my faculties once again.”

Wiglof was in fact fooling nobody.

“Everybody gets one.” Replied Prinze as he turned to look towards Wiglof.

Wiglof smiled for a moment before his expression furrowed.

“Hulda, my wife. Please stop your charge. Do not harm our lord.” He said as Hulda continued her charge.

Much like her husband, Hulda charged forward, trampling over Prinze and stopping before Beezul before stomping down on the felled dragonkin.

Prinze righted himself, about to also absolve Hulda with her ‘one’, but noticed the silvery clouds still in her eyes.

Prinze thought inwardly for a moment, calling out to the shard of Jotunn sealed within his wraps.

Jotunn. Why are Wiglof and Hulda acting this way?

THEY HAVE BEEN POSSESSED, LITTLE ONE!

Well then, let’s repossess them.

“Hulda’s still possessed Alonzo!” Prinze called out as he jumped up, brushed the dirt off of himself, and ran vertically up the leg of Wiglof, coming to a halt atop his head. “Hulda! Don’t make me make you behave!”

Hulda stared at Prinze for a moment before beginning to draw back her fist to take a swing at him.

Prinze didn’t wait for Hulda to complete her swing however, making four quick strikes at her by unraveling his wraps and twisting them around her and holding her in place.

“Ow my lord. That hurts.” She said in a tone similarly monotoned to her husband as she struggled against the wraps that restrained her. Then, once she had realized that she was unable to complete her strike, she looked towards her husband, batting her silver clouded eyes at him.

Prinze looked down at Wiglof from atop his head, and Wiglof looked back up at Prinze.

“Wiglof.”

“Yes my lord?”

“You need to talk some sense into your wife.”

Wiglof sighed, “If only my lord.”

Beezul, furious as a hornet that both of the stone giants had swatted and trampled over him, stowed his pipe and drew his Bee Drills.

Now, Beezul’s Bee Drills were neither bees, nor drills, rather they were more akin to the conical tips of a lance. Each carved from a sizeable bone, and affixed with a handle at the non-pointy end, these “drills” are capable of delivering sharp, deadly stings, and often deliver a deadly poison to its victims, which, in this case, are soon to be Wiglof and Hulda.

Rising from the small crater that was left behind from being stomped into the ground by two giants, the furious Beezul jabbed once at the ankle of Wiglof, and again at that of Hulda.

Simultaneously the two shouted in monotoned voices, “Ow! You little shit! My lord! The small one stung us.”

“That’s because you hit me on purpose!” replied Beezul as he held his Bee Drills aloft, “And I’ll do it again!”

Wiglof made a grab for Beezul, bringing Prinze low for a swipe by the still possessed Hulda. Prinze ducked low, avoiding the swipe as Beezul scuttled just out of the reach of Wiglof.

Allistair finished closing the distance to his cohorts, drew his rapier, and conjured forth a blade of shadows just as the clanging of the ogres finished closing the distance to his fellows.

Alonzo and Prinze, previously preoccupied by the giants that harried them, snapped their attention towards their new guests, however, Beezul, in his rage, failed to notice them right off.

Alonzo, having flanked to the ground, out of the paths of Wiglof and Hulda, found himself surrounded by the encroaching ogres. He dodged and battered away several of their strikes before disappearing in a cloud of mist and reappearing thirty feet away behind the ear of Hulda.

He reached out, placing his hand upon her temple, and cleared her mind of possession just as he had Wiglof moments prior.

The silvery mist cleared from her eyes and she dropped to her knee before Prinze and Wiglof. “Apologies for my transgressions my lord. My mind is clear and once again mine.”

Prinze nodded and Wiglof replied, “Wow wife. You mind has cleared much faster than my own.”

“Nobody is falling for that Wiglof.” Snapped Prinze.

“Yes my lord.” He replied, “Apologies my lord.” Wiglof then took a knee beside his wife, placing Prinze back upon the ground.

“What do you command of us my lord?” asked Wiglof and Hulda in unison.

“As recompence for your attack, club these ogres unconscious so that Alonzo may remove their possession.” Replied Prinze.

“It will be done my lord.” Replied both in unison.

Wiglof and Hulda both rose, towering over the ogres that surrounded them. Wiglof cracked his knuckles and shook out his shoulders as Hulda cracked her neck and took a quick stretch of her legs.

The ogres, silvery-eyed, hesitated for a moment before raising their shields to block the oncoming attacks. Unfortunately for the ogres, however, they would quickly find out how outclassed in combat they were by Wiglof and Hulda.

Wiglof lunged forwards, striking his fists out in a flurry of stony strikes, each sending an ogre flying backwards into a tumble and leaving each in an unconscious heap.

After felling three in quick succession, he turned back towards Prinze, who stood there with mouth agape, and asked, “Does this please my lord?”

Prinze hesitated for a moment before replying, “Oh yeah!”

Hulda huffed, launching herself forward into a spinning kick, sending five more ogres flying in a similar fashion, ending her strikes with a downward heel kick into a sixth, burying it into a heap of dust and rocks.

Prinze and Wiglof paused, staring at each other, then at Hulda, then back at one another. Prinze nodded then took off in the opposite direction.

“Alonzo, let them take care of the Ogres!” he called out, “We need to go see to Blagothskul in his tower!”

Alonzo nodded in understanding and quickly followed behind, being trailed by the still enraged Beezul.

“Blagothskul controls the skyland. If he wanted to, he could cause us to plummet and crash!” shouted Prinze on their way up Blagothskul’s tower.

“Why would he want to do that?” asked Alonzo.

“There’s no telling.” Replied Prinze, “I doubt he’d want to. But if he’s under the same control as Wiglof and Hulda then Sylverfang might be making him.”

“I did notice the skyland elevating once the giants attacked.” Sad Beezul, “Maybe he’s trying to take us higher to make the drop bigger?”

“Wait!” said Alonzo, “You said Sylverfang lives on the…”

Suddenly Sky’s Reach began to plummet.

Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze began tumbling upwards through the air towards the top of Blagothskul’s tower.

Calmly, Prinze replied, “Yeah, I figured at this point that was common knowledge?”

“Common knowledge to us… and Blinky and Maximus.” Replied Beezul, “Alonzo and Beezul have only been with us for a few weeks.”

“Really?” asked Prinze as he caught himself on a railing and launched himself towards Blagothskul’s door, “I thought it had been longer. You lose track of time when you’ve always got dragon killing on the brain.”

Alonzo and Beezul shrugged as they regained control over their movement by flying to land next to Prinze.

Allistair had hesitated for a few moments before pursuing the rest of his party, narrowly catching the door of the tower when the island began to plummet. Climbing in, he had only managed to ascent about half of the tower before he saw Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze entering the giant door overhead.

Standing before the massive door separating the stairwell from Sky’s Reach’s Control Room, Prinze knocked, calling out, “Blagothskul! Are you doing okay in there?”

He waited a moment, getting no response, then tugged at the bell. He waited another moment before shrugging to Alonzo and Beezul, “Guess we have to do this the hard way?”

Alonzo lit his cigar and took a puff, “Gotta do what we’ve gotta do.”

Beezul produced his Bee-Bee Gun and loaded it.

Prinze fingered the fourfold amulet around his neck, touched the stone door, and shaped a doorway large enough for the three to pass through.

They stepped into the dark space, a huge, circular room clad in the same crystals that grew on the outside atop the tower. The only light within the room came from a large, crystalline monitor, one which Blagothskul hunched over, which was used to control the whole of Sky’s Reach.

Draped in a cloak that could cover any normal house like a drop cloth on the family’s antique chair, Blagothskul turned and looked up from the monitor towards the party.

His eyes glowed with a silvery mist, and a smile stretched out across his face, unnaturally wide, showing his white, pointed teeth.

Blagothskul sang out, “Worryyyyyyy noooooooooot! Myyyyyyyyy looooooooord!” and threw himself forward on the console.

The whole of Sky’s Reach lurched forward into a nose dive, and Blagothskul tore himself away from the console and leapt towards his master, and master’s companions.

Prinze slid forwards between Blagothskul’s legs as he landed, lashing out his wraps and entangling them around Blagothskul’s ankles. With a strong pull, Prinze managed to pull him just off balance and send Blagothskul tumbling forwards.

Felled like a mighty tree, Blagothskul looked forwards and used his momentum to bring both of his fists down upon the approaching Alonzo.

Alonzo, quick as lightning, threw up a magical shield that stopped Blagothskul’s fists midair. He rolled away, to the side, just as the shield shattered and disappeared. Blagothskul’s grin grew even wider, tearing at the corners of his mouth, and he turned to face Alonzo.

Alonzo, wielding his new lance in his hands, paused, then stepped forwards. He placed a hand upon Blagothskul’s temple and restored his faculties to him, just as he had with Wiglof and Hulda.

The silvery mist cleared from Blagothskul’s eyes, which began to leak and weep. His unnatural smile slowly returned to normal as he regained his sense of self.

Prinze unwrapped Blagothskul’s ankles and walked over to his head.

“It’ll be alright buddy… but, can you stop the skyland from falling?” asked Prinze.

Blagothskul nodded, rose, and strode back to the console. After a moment, Sky’s Reach ended its freefall and came to a halt.

“Are you alright Blagothskul?” asked Prinze.

“No my lord. I have not been alright for quite some time.” Replied Blagothskul.

“Do we need to beat the shit out of you some more? Are you still under the control of Sylverfang?”

“No my lord. Not unless that is what you wish. I am myself once more.”

“Oh, well… we can handle that another time.” Retorted Prinze.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“You know, maybe you need to get back out into the world? Date some other islands?”

There was silence as Blagothskul stared at Prinze, and Prinze stared back.

After tending to the wounds of his party and Blagothskul, Alonzo accompanied Beezul and Prinze back to the main thoroughfare of Sky’s Reach to tend Wiglof, Hulda, and the ogres.

 With the island back in order, all seemed well… until Prinze shouted, “Skjalvarn!”

That is where this part of week’s tale ends, and the next part will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 34 Pt. 2

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 07/06/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 34 Pt. 2

This week’s tale continues as the party approaches the lair of the blue dragon Sarathra and the red dragon Vharax.

The skyland, Sky’s Reach came to a halt as Alonzo gave notice to Blagothskul that they were right above the dragon’s lair. He descended the long, winding steps of Blagothskul’s tower and approached his party.

“It’s right below us. Are we ready?” he asked as he lit a fresh cigar and took a puff from it.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Said Prinze.

“I’m ready.” Said Beezul.

“Eeh, I guess so.” Said Dolgrak.

The four descended below, coming before the entrance to a rocky cave. They looked at Alonzo for confirmation that it would be safe and he nodded, then they all entered.

The entrance to the cave narrowed and winded until it opened once more into a large cavern. Sitting within the center of the space was a nice pile of coins, likely the spoils of raids conducted on some unlucky townships nearby. The four set out to uncover the riches of the dragon’s hoard.

Prinze immediately began shoveling coins and gemstones into his Bag of Holding, hoping to replenish some of the treasury he had spent in the recent weeks.

Dolgrak, less equipped for taking a large volume of treasure, picked through the gems and coins and art, searching for something valuable he could call his own. In the pile he found a swift looking scimitar, encrusted with jewels.

Alonzo also began shoveling coins into his bag, but he happened across a peculiar looking ring engraved with flaming insignia. He slipped over one of his fingers and continued looting.

Beezul, a kobold of whimsey, climbed to the top of the pile of loot, hoping to find a unique treasure there, but instead he found a nest of linens that contained five eggs. Each egg was swirled with red and blue scales, and was as large as his torso.

“What are you doing with those?” asked Prinze who floated above and behind Beezul, startling him as he tried to shove the eggs in his bag.

Jumping, and almost dropping one of the eggs, Beezul replied, “Keeping them.”

“Why?” shot Prinze.

“Why not?” defended Beezul as he shoved one in his bag.

“You better be keeping those to eat them.” Glared Prinze.

“No.” replied Beezul, shoving another in.

Prinze cracked his knuckled, “You’re not keeping those alive.”

“Why not?” asked Beezul as he shoved a third into his bag.

“They’re dragon eggs. Dragons are evil.”

“But I want to hatch them. Raise them as good dragons.” Said Beezul as he shoved the fourth in his bag.

Prinze jumped down from his broom, landing on the fifth egg and crushing it as Beezul reached towards it.

“There are no good dragons.” Said Prinze.

“What about metallic dragons?” Asked Beezul.

“They are especially evil.” Said Prinze, “Because they parade around as good.”

“It’s okay. You’ve got your loot. I have mine.”

“Last time there were dragon eggs you sold them to Sylverfang for power. I won’t let you do that again.” Threatened Prinze, “I could kill you for that.”

“Not if I kill you first.” Threatened Beezul.

The two stared at each other for a moment. Alonzo and Dolgrak looked up from their looting towards the two atop the pile.

“I’m not letting you leave with those intact.” Said Prinze, “I need you to understand that we’re at an impasse.”

“I think we’re in a cave.” Said Beezul.

Prinze cracked his knuckles, “We need to destroy those Zul. What don’t you understand about that?”

“All of it. Why do you have to destroy my loot?”

“The cult is trying to resurrect the Chromatic Queen. They will use those to do it if they can.”

“This isn’t the cult, Prinze. These were just two random dragons.”

“All dragons are part of the cult!” snapped Prinze.

“I don’t think they are.” replied Beezul.

“If the Chromatic Queen comes back, she gains dominion over all dragons. They are a liability.”

“Not metallic dragons.” Retorted Beezul, “They’ll be fine.”

“Those aren’t the eggs of a metallic dragon!”

“But… if we prevent her from coming back then they won’t be a problem.”

“They’re a liability…” said Prinze.

“We can compromise then.” Replied Beezul.

“Yes. We can.” Snapped Prinze, “You kill them, then, after we stop the cult, I’ll all other dragonkind, then you last.”

“Counter proposal, you kill two now, then I keep the others.” Countered Beezul.

“But that still leaves two.”

“Then after we kill the cult I can raise them as good dragons?” continued Beezul.

Prinze sighed, “I can make that work… for now.”

Beezul reached into his bag, procured two of the eggs, and handed them to Prinze. He immediately smashed one on the ground below them, then threw the other at Dolgrak as he turned to continue looting the hoard.

“What the fuck?” asked Dolgrak, now soaked in egg.

Prinze ignored him and kept an eye on Beezul.

The party spent the next few hours collecting all of the wealth of the dragon’s hoard and transporting it to Sky’s Reach where it was piled up to be sorted after the skyland had resumed course towards the Veiled Forest.

As the last of the hoard was piled upon the main thoroughfare of Sky’s Reach, and the skyland had began moving once more, the sky darkened above. Surrounding the pile of wealth, the party looked towards its center where a familiar ghostly apparition began to take shape.

Prinze immediately reached into his bag, procuring a vial of oil, and began slathering it over his fists. He shouted, “Alonzo, defend the corpses. Beezul, take aim. Dolgrak… do Dolgrak things.”

As he slathered the oil he wondered why his fists had yet to become translucent? Why he couldn’t yet reach into the ethereal plane? He turned over the vial and read the instructions.

“Apply liberally over surface. Wait 10 minutes for the oil to take effect…”

That would be why…

The apparition finished incorporating, conveniently outside of Prinze’s punching range, not that he would be able to punch Sylverfang either way.

The ghastly wish dragon loomed overhead, taunting the party, “I have been away some time my sheep. It seems that we have lost two of our flock.”

“Who did we lose again?” asked Beezul.

“Are we a flock? Who is the flock?” asked Prinze.

“Who is this broad?” asked Dolgrak.

Sumulatneously Beezul and Prinze replied, “This is Sylverfang. She lives in the skyland.”

“You let a dragon live in the skyland?” replied Dolgrak, “You? Prinze? Let a dragon? Live in the skyland?”

“Yeah, well there’s not much I can do when I can’t punch her.” Replied Prinze as he cocked his fists in preparation of Sylverfang coming within range.

“Enough! It is time again for you to tithe to me!” shouted Sylverfang.

“No.” said Prinze, “We aren’t going to do that anymore.”

“No?” asked Sylverfang, “No!? Beezul, eliminate Prinze!”

Beezul grasped his Bee-Bee Gun and began to shake, “But… but I like Prinze.”

“Obey!” Shouted Sylverfang again

“But… but he could be of use to us!” implored Beezul.

“His use has run its course.” Snapped Sylverfang.

Dolgrak loaded and discharged his crossbow at the ghostly dragon. His bolt passed harmlessly through her.

“Is Beezul being possessed?” asked Dolgrak.

“I don’t think so.” Replied Alonzo, “I think he’s having a conundrum.”

Dolgrak, confused, turned and ran for cover in a nearby house, raising his crossbow once more.

“Eliminate him!” shouted Sylverfang once more.

“No… I can’t! He’s still useful!” shouted Beezul, shaking more than ever.

“Hey!” shouted Prinze at Sylverfang, “Why don’t you command me to kill Beezul?”

Sylverfang ceased for a moment, taken aback, “Do it. Kill Beezul.”

Prinze flipped her a lewd gesture and shouted, “Don’t tell me what to do!”

At his gesture, Sylverfang shouted, “Then die!”

Everybody lurched forward towards Sylverfang.

She pointed her finger towards Prinze, casting a spell over him that forced him to act in accordance with her will. “Now, kill Beezul my puppet!” she bellowed.

Beezul cast a spell over himself, warding from the poisons he’s seen Sylverfang expel in the past, and then flew outside of Prinze’s reach.

Prinze, staggering towards Beezul against his own will, began to meditate, calming his mind and regaining control over his own faculties, ending Sylverfang’s spell.

“Be careful everyone. She’s tricksy. She’ll try to take over your mind.” Said Prinze as he prepared to strike once she was in range.

Sylverfang disappeared into a poof of silvery smoke and reappeared around Beezul as a cloud. Beezul’s body began to rise farther from the surface of Sky’s Reach as the smoke poured into him. His eyes rolled back into his head and became silvery.

Sylverfang, in her new kobold body, cracked Beezul’s neck left then right. With his hands, she procured Beezul’s Bee-Bee Gun and loaded it with a bee, coated with acid. She fired it at Prinze, catching him in the shoulder, leaving behind a puncture hole that burned after it had exited. She procured another bee, again loading it and coating it in freezing air, and firing it once more. This time, piercing clean through Prinze’s left thigh. Prinze winced in paid, looking worse for wear after being shot twice.

 Alonzo, unsure what to do, dropped to his knees and began to pray, something he had not done for quite some time. He prayed to the Lord for the means to defeat this spirit. And the Lord’s servant answered, casting a glowing lance through the clouds above, piercing a hole through the clouds themselves with radiant light. The lance, wreathed in golden light, stuck into the ground beside Alonzo.

Alonzo rose and grabbed the lance. Tendrils of bright cloth reached out to his harm and wrapped themselves around him as he charged forwards and struck Beezul square in the chest, forcing the ghastly wish dragon from his body, and ending the possession.

Forced to the filthy ground, Sylverfang snarled and tried to assert her dominance over Alonzo, but her power was uselessly blocked out by the radiance of the lance.

“You are no longer the threat here.” Said Alonzo, “I am the threat, and with this lance I will slay you… you bitch!”

Frightened for the first time since ascending, Sylverfang vanished into a cloud of silver smoke, calling out, “This isn’t over!”

As Sylverfang disappeared, wisps of silver smoke wafted outwards, into each of the Giant’s of Sky’s Reach.

A lightning laced bee lashed out in the ground where Sylverfang disappeared as Beezul tried to strike her as she fled, but to no avail.

Prinze unsure whether to go out in search of Sylverfang or strike Beezul down hesitates as Alonzo strikes at the ground with his lance, trying to stab Sylverfang as she flees.

Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze suddenly look up to the sounds of clanging metal and heavy footsteps, realizing the dozens of ogres approaching from behind, eyes silvery and smoky.

“Sorry… my… lord…” mumbled Wiglof as he stumbled towards Prinze, “I… have… no… control… over… my… own… body…”

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 34 Pt. 1

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 07/06/2026

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 34 Pt. 1

This week’s tale begins with the party finishing several expensive renovations upon Sky’s Reach, inclusive of erecting numerous pieces of siege weaponry, and establishing several new residences for the new residents of Sky’s Reach.

***Prinze***

Five days have passed that Prinze has overseen the construction of nearly twenty new houses upon the surface of Sky’s Reach. Each house, a thirty-foot diameter stone dome, had cost Sky’s Reach several thousand gold, but the druids that had constructed them had done so quickly, and furnished them to  boot.

Prinze stood in the shadow of Blagothskul’s Tower, next to the mopey Cloud Giant, and said, “Well Blagothskul, you wife has gotten an upgrade.”

Taken aback at his abruptness, which he had yet to become accustomed to, Blagothskul replied sarcastically, “Almost as beautiful as she used to be my lord.”

“Did you see the new ballistae?”

“Yes my lord. They are very nice.”

“And the Sunlance?”

“Yes my lord. A fine addition. You adorn Sky’s Reach with the jewels of war.”

Smugly, Prinze replied, “I do, don’t I? Speaking of war… We need a new heading to expand our theater. Do you know how to get to the Veiled Forest Blagothskul?”

“I do my lord. Is that where you seek to take us next?” he replied with all of the enthusiasm of a single father of twelve who drove to work for an hour at before the sun rose, worked his shift, returned home to sup, and returned for a second shift shortly after acknowledging he was still in fact a father of twelve.

“I think so.” Replied Prize, “We haven’t paid a beating to the greens yet. Let’s get them involved in our conflict.”

“It will be done my lord.”

***Blagothskul***

Prinze sauntered off, out of the sight of Blagothskul. He stood there, wondering for a few moments. How did it all come to this?

Months ago he had commanded a vast force of his own kin, preparing to bring war to the coastlands beneath him for the death of his wife. He had raised this island, Sky’s Reach in her honor. Then as quick as he had set upon his first victim, another Skyland, he was instead beset upon by a flurry of dragons commanded by his soon to be new masters.

The next thing he knew, he was crushed and kneeling before them, five oracles, their justiciars, and their grand speaker, the breath of their queen. Once called Blagothskul the Great, he had become nothing more than a war dog for those he hated most. Sycophants and dragon worshippers.

Then he had been filled with hope once more. A group of adventurers had besieged his island, his wife, and slaughtered one of the oracles, and her justiciar. Something that wouldn’t be permanent, he knew from experience, but a shining hope below his tower.

Blagothskul had descended his tower to test these adventurers, and observe if they were truly worthy of Sky’s Reach, but something was odd about one of them. A dragonkin, one he would have spit upon the ground at before crushing beneath his boot, but it was filled with the spirit of his true master.

Master Jotunn inhabited this dragonkin, a thought Blagothskul would have never imagined possible, and yet, it stood there before him. Through this creature, Jotunn spoke to Blagothskul, and he knew the return of giantkind was upon this plane, and the end of dragonkind would surely follow.

But his new master had not been all that Blagothskul had hoped for.

Wild. Reckless. And on a war path that was unsustainable. Blagothskul had surmised the fury of Jotunn was contained within the dragonkin he now called master, but it was without the wisdom needed to truly bend dragonkind to its knees.

But there was little Blagothskul could do. A broken man, destined only to serve the remainder of his days, he would ferry the fury of Jotunn as it saw fit and let it be unleashed upon this plane. Blagothskul only hoped that there would still be a world left for him to be reincarnated into once this shard of Jotunn had finished its work.

He turned and slunk back into his tower, setting course for the Veiled Forest.

***Everybody***

Two days had passed since Prinze had Blagothskul set course. In that time, the party had rested, trained, reminisced on the disappearance of Blagothskul’s griffon, and concluded that the word poison was simply a dyslexic spelling of the word potion, presumably originally of the healing variety.

Near midday, of the third day of their travels towards the Veiled Forest, Blagothskul sounded the alarm, alerting the whole of Sky’s Reach to the presence of an attack.

Breaking from his meditation, and jumping into action, Prinze rushed towards the island’s new shield generator. After reaching it, Prinze called out to Blagothskul’s tower, “Blagothskul, what’s happening?”

“A voice boomed from the top of the tower, projected my a magical enchantment, “We are being attacked by dragons my lord. Two of them. One red and one blue.”

Prinze fumbled in his pockets, producing a single gold piece as Alonzo and Beezul joined him by the generator. He slotted it into the generator and waited a moment, hoping it would spring to life… but nothing happened.

Alonzo asked, “What are you doing?”

Prinze replied, “It’s coin operated. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, but that’s not how you use it.” Said Alonzo as he produced a golden coin imbued with magic, “This is how you use it.”

He slotted the magical coin into the generator and it sprang to life, emitting a eight-inch diameter icosahedral orb. The orb floated above the generator for a moment before emitting a wall of force that covered the whole of Sky’s Reach.

Moments later, a huge blued dragon slammed into the port side of Sky’s Reach’s shield, and another moment later a red dragon, even larger than the blue, slammed into the starboard side.

“Neither of those are green.” Said Alonzo, “I thought we were going after the greens this time?”

“Well, no… but also yes.” Said Prinze, “We’re going after the greens, but Blagothskul said we’re being attacked by a red and blue. I wonder what they’re doing out here?”

“Maybe they’re making purple.” Called out Dolgrak from atop a stone tower in the center of the island.

Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze stopped and turned to stare at Dolgrak, believing they had just heard in that instant the least intelligent thing they would hear all day. Little did they all know, but Dolgrak was correct, and his only blunder, thus far, was entering that tower uninvited.

Dolgrak, nor Alonzo, had been present months prior when Prinze had set off several bombs along one side of the brick tower set within the center of Sky’s Reach, felling it upon several mutated wyverns, and the Justiciar of the Ember Faithful. At that time the party were merely invaders of Sky’s Reach, ignorant of most of its denizens.

One denizen, and the owner of the tower Prinze had just felled, was Sandria Mortessa, a vampiress who served the cult of the Chromatic Queen in exchange for an endless supply of blood and vampire relics.

After Prinze had felled her tower, Sandria had emerged from the shadows to attack him, but she quickly shied away from the sunlight and back into the depths of her lair. Weeks later, after noticeable disappearances and signs of vampire activity upon Sky’s Reach, the party had inquired with Wiglof, quickly learning of Sandria and her brood.

Bravely, the party had ventured into the lair of Sandria, awakening her and her thirteen vampire children, none of which she had actually birthed herself. After Sandria Mortessa had revealed her trump card, the massive skeleton of a blue dragon buried within the core of the island, and her chambers, and a demonstration that she could control it with enchantments she had woven throughout it, negotiations began.

The party had agreed to rebuild Sandria’s tower and supply her with a constant supply of blood, which took the form of a regenerating troll, and in exchange, Sandria and her children would not prey upon the party, or the denizens of Sky’s Reach.

Dolgrak stared back, unsure why the party stared at him when there were two dragons attacking the Skyland.

Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze looked back at one another, shrugged, and looked back upon the dragons as they scratched at and breathed upon the shield.

“Well, it looks like the shield’s working.” Said Prinze.

“I told you Anthony was a trustworthy source.” Replied Alonzo.

“Maybe we can just ignore them until they leave us alone?” asked Prinze.

Simultaneously Beezul and Dolgrak set to inspecting the violent creatures as they attacked at the skyland’s shield, each surmising of their own accord that these dragons were both adults.

“They both look like they’re adults, so a few hundred years old.” Said Beezul.

“They don’t look that big to me.” Replied Prinze as he sized them up.

“I think the shield distorts them a bit, making them seem smaller. But believe me, they’re adults.”

Prinze raised his fist and began taunting the dragons as they snarled at the shields. Their attacks seemed to focus in on Prinze because of his mockery, yet they left no marks upon the shield.

“Blagothskul! Stay the course until we’re a day away. They’ll lose interest in us.” Called Prinze towards the navigator, “Then if they aren’t gone by then we’ll gank them” he muttered under his breath to the rest of his party.

Sky’s Reach kept is course as the hours of the day ticked on, and eventually, once the skyland began to leave their territory, the dragons broke away from their attacks and departed.

“Now!” shouted Prinze, commanding his party to attack.

Alonzo dropped the shield, rendering Sky’s Reach undefended, but this was a necessary risk. Without dropping the shield, Beezul would have been unable to fire the Sunlance.

Hot golden light streaked from the magical cannon set beneath Sandria’s tower, striking at the blue dragon, but it banked left a moment before the beam could hit it square on. White smoke and a spray of blood trailed from the right side and wing of the blue dragon as it twisted around.

Both of the dragons rolled and twisted in unison, turning one-hundred and eighty degrees in an instant. They streaked back towards Sky’s Reach. As they crested over Blagothskul’s control tower, they targeted Prinze as he stood upon a wooden tower. They reared their heads back, breathing in deep and charging their breath weapons, but before they could release their fury, Prinze called out once more.

“Fire!” he shouted.

Two tall towers that flanked the Sunlance, each outfitted with four ballista, spun and fired at the dragons. Their payload,  projectiles that looked like four cannonballs chained together, creating in iron bolo. Each tower focused their fire on one of the dragons, four shots at the red, and four shots at the blue.

All four iron bolos struck the red dragon, winding and twisting together around it, binding its wings and limbs tight against its body. One struck the dragon’s head, stunning it for a moment as it wrapped around its snout, becoming entangled in its horns. Like a torpedo, the red dragon streaked above the party and over the side of Sky’s Reach, plummeting to the earth below.

Only two of the bolos struck the blue dragon, wrapping around its left side and pinning its wing flat to its back. Its damaged right wing was unable to stabilize it, and the blue dragon spiraled over the edge after its mate.

Prinze cheered, “Let’s go hunting lads!” as he charged the edge of the Skyland. He produced two vials, handing them off to Dolgrak, then called out to Wiglof and Hulda, shouting, “We’re going to kill some dragons. Support us how you can from up here.”

“Yes my lord.” Called the giants in unison.

Dolgrak, who was keeping pace with Prinze in his charge towards the edge, pocketed the two vials Prinze handed him before being promptly pushed over the edge. Dolgrak wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this, nor why nobody seemed to remember that he couldn’t fly, as he plummeted below with no landing strategy.

The rest of the party followed in tow as Prinze leapt from Sky’s Reach. While plummeting, Alozo began weaving protective spells over the party, warding them from death and aiding their vitality before catching himself with his cloak and safely flying below.

Reassured that, although his landing would hurt, he would survive due to Alonzo’s spells, Dolgrak braced himself for impact. But it never came, rather there was a sharp tug at his collar as Prinze caught him and set him down gently.

Beezul, the most inclined towards natural flight, gently buzzed down behind his plummeting party. As he descended, Beezul procured his Bee-Bee Gun, loaded it with a nasty little stinging bee, and charged it with the electricity of a lightning arrow.

The party landed safely and approached the dragons as they writhed and snarled. The dragons cursed in draconic as the party approached and split. Alonzo and Dolgrak broke off towards the blue dragon, and Beezul and Prinze approached the red.

The dragons became still for a moment as Prinze leaned in close to the red dragon. Flames flickered across Alonzo’s fingers. Dolgrak loaded his crossbow. And Beezul took aim with his Bee-Bee Gun.

“They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, “ said Prinze, “But I’ve always seen them more as doors.”

The dragon blinked in confusion then snorted a puff of smoke from its nostrils at him.

Prinze leaned forwards, through the smoke, “I am going to turn your eyes into doorways…” he said as he took flight.

Beezul trailed behind, and the red dragon’s pupils became slits in preparation for an attack. But before the three would meet, its eyes would again dilate as it watched the flames dance from Alonzo’s fingertips and surround its mate.

The blue dragon cried out in pain as Alonzo’s flames immolated it. It writhed, trying to break free, to claw, to gnash, but it couldn’t. Its left side lay bound, and its right lay broken by its impact. Its mouth was bound by an iron bolo. There was nothing more that the blue dragon could do than the red. Then, it went silent.

The red dragon began to lurch forward on broken, bound wings and limbs, but before it had moved more than an inch it also fell silent, then limp.

Prinze had flown up over a hundred feet while the dragon was distracted, then rocketed down for a powerful kick that carried him through the red dragon’s eyes and skull. As he stood from the corpse, covered in its blood, Beezul and Dolgrak fired their weapons. Beezul’s bee streaked through the air in a line of arcing electricity, punching a hole clear through the new corpse of the red dragon. Dolgrak’s bolt bounced harmlessly off of the burning scales of the blue dragon, clanging to the ground behind it.

The party stood there for a moment in silence, staring at the corpses of the dragons, then at one another.

“Well… congratulations everybody. We killed them.” Said Prinze.

“Yeah, and by killed you mean we wandered into their territory, insulted them, then mogged them when they turned their backs to leave, right?” asked Alonzo.

“Well… yeah. But we still killed them!” replied Prinze.

They all stared at each other blankly for several more moments, all but Prinze a little disappointed at the ease of their kill.

Prinze called up to Wiglof, “Wiglof! Come get these dragons and bring them up to the island for harvest.”

“Yes my lord.” Replied Wiglof.

He looked back towards the party, “Food doesn’t come out of nowhere. It comes from dragons.”

Wiglof and his wife Hulda descended from Sky’s Reach upon a block of stone Hulda commanded. Once upon the ground, they grabbed the corpse of the red dragon and dragged it to the stone.

“Hey Alonzo, can you do that clergy thing where you can speak with the dead? Maybe there’s a lair somewhere?” asked Beezul, “Maybe they have some loot?”

“I can eat their brain.” Replied Alonzo.

Baffled, the whole party stood and stared at Alonzo for a moment as he began to dig into the dragon’s skuill and produce a small chunk of its brain. Mortified, yet curious, the party watched on.

As Alonzo consumed the morsel of gray matter, he began his spell. Memories flooded into Alonzo’s mind, almost overwhelming him. Memories of hatching, memories of scheming, even memories of attacking Sky’s Reach.

He said, “Her name was Sarathra. She was mating with Vharax, the red one. They were trying to hybridize. I know where to find their lair too. I think there’s eggs in it.”

“Are you sure it’s not a trap?” asked Prinze.

“No, not a trap. They only attacked us to protect their lair and their nest.” Replied Alonzo.

“But is their lair trapped?

“No. They’re dragons. They don’t need to trap their lair.”

Wiglof and Hulda loaded the corpse of the blue dragon and returned to Sky’s Reach to begin harvesting it.

Following behind, Prinze commanded Blagothskul to follow Alonzo’s directions to find the dragon’s lair.

After several hours Alonzo told Blagothskul, “Here. It’s right below us.”

Blagothskul nodded, bringing Sky’s Reach to a halt above a rocky hillside.

That is where this part of this week’s tale ends, and the next part will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 33 Pt. 3

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 05/15/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 33 Pt. 3

This part of this week’s tale begins as the party has split up and descended to the capitol of the coastlands.

*** Everyone ***

At Prinze’s command, Blagothskul turned Sky’s Reach to the west towards the capitol of the coastlands. A day and a half passed in which the Skyland soared across the skies, after which it began to loom over the capitol once again.

As was custom within the capitol, when a Skyland was spotted looming above, the alarms across the city were sounded, alerting the whole of the city to its presence. Not that most of the capitol’s denizens weren’t already aware of the encroaching mass of stone that visited every few weeks. Each time the Skyland was identified as Sky’s Reach, a militia was dispatched to receive its envoys, signaling their arrival with a slew of fireworks.

Often times, Allistair, Beezul, and Prinze would make the militia wait before they departed, sometimes for hours, before they disembarked, just to test the militia’s patience.

 This time however, the group split into two, very uneven, parties and departed immediately in the cover of night. The militia that was sent to receive them would fail to notice their departure, regardless of the lights cast by their fireworks, and would end up waiting for hours once again.

*** Alonzo, Beezul, Dolgrak, & Prinze ***

Alonzo, Beezul, Dolgrak, and Prinze leapt from the edge of Sky’s Reach and began to plummet below. Alonzo spread his magical cloak, catching the wind beneath it and gliding down. Beezul opened the wings of Vespa, far too small for typical maintained flight, but began to float aloft regardless. And Prinze dove, grabbing his broom of flying and mounting it just before impact on the ground below, safely preventing his fall.

Dolgrak, on the other hand, leapt from the edge of Sky’s Reach mindlessly and began to plummet, remembering only a few seconds after leaping that he had no means of flying, or safely reaching the ground for that matter. As he fell, he cried out for help, being graciously grabbed by Alonzo and safely deposited on the streets below.

Silently in the night, Alonzo gestured for his trio of acquaintances to follow him into a crowded street that lead into a bustling market front. Even in the darkness of the evening, this market street was filled with people of all shapes, colors, and races trading, haggling, and bartering before business began the next day.

Alonzo lead his cohorts to a tavern, called the Flush Barmaid Tavern, from which half a dozen drunken orcs had just stumbled from. As he strode in, Alonzo tipped his hat at the barmaid and wandered into the wine cellar behind the bar. He walked past dozens of barrels, tapped and untapped, before stopping at a barrel so large it could act as a whole fermenting vat. He knocked on it four times, then pushed in on its hull, revealing that it was much lighter than it appeared.

The barrel pushed away from atop a staircase carved into the cellar’s stone floor, and Alonzo descended.

The stairs took him down into the stinking sewers of the capitol below, across a winding trail of tunnels, and to a filthy wooden door. Alonzo took out a small wooden rod from his pockets and tapped on the door four times before it opened into a sprawling cistern.

Dozens of market stalls stood erected across the expanse of this cistern, stalls Alonzo knew well. This was the Midnight Market. The place you went to get things you normally couldn’t find out in the public. A place that Alonzo had helped to build since his youth.

Here, loud merchants called out across the cistern to one another, swearing and cursing each other, and coaxing prospective customers to their stalls. It was remarkable, for such a hidden, tucked away market, how many people had found it to peruse wares.

And peruse a person could do here, for hours. The Midnight Market had everything from deadly poisons, illegally enchanted weapons, and even siege equipment. The very reason Alonza had brought Prinze here. Speaking of, where had Prinze wandered off to?

To find trouble is where.

Prinze had quickly separated himself from Alonzo, and the rest of his cohorts, and engaged in a shouting match with a slimy merchant known as Cannon Kyle.

Kyle was a human man with greasy black hair, but what made him unique was that in all realities, every variation of Kyle was doing the exact same thing at the exact same time. He was, canonically, always a cannon salesman, always a little greasy, and always loud.

Prinze, who had not noticed the inherent paracausality of Kyle, had approached him to attempt to negotiate prices for cannons for Sky’s Reach, as had countless other individuals across countless other realities. Simultaneously, every variation of Kyle had become irate at the thought of negotiation, and failed to make his sale.

While Prinze was “negotiating” with Kyle, Beezul and Dolgrak had slipped away. Beezul sought out a poisoner, finding a snake-like woman peddling her wares a few dozen feet away. He had perused her poisons for several moments, but nothing spoke to him, which, in a place like this was probably for the best. Dolgrak, on the other hand, who was yet to be paid by Alonzo, meandered from stall to stall in search of a new weapon that he could purchase. Unfortunately for him, Dolgrak was, unbeknownst to him, the least wealthy person within the Midnight Market.

Alonzo approached an old friend of his, Anthony, another Half-Elf who had similar ties to the underground. Anthony specialized in selling siege weapons, both magical and mundane. After greeting Anthony, Alonzo called over Prinze, briefing him on etiquette for negotiating in the Midnight Market.

“He said you’re welcome to come buy his wares, but you better bring a better attitude when you do. You can get away with acting like that with Cannon Kyle, because nobody likes Cannon Kyle, but if you talk like that with Anthony he’ll make sure to bend your knees backwards on you. You understand?”

Prinze nodded, and the two approached Anthony.

Nearly half an hour passed of Anthony showing Prinze his wares, and Prinze trying his best to negotiate with a professional negotiator, and when it was all said and done a deal had been struck. Prinze was going to have some new toys fitted to Sky’s Reach, and Anthony was now a very rich man.

*** Allistair ***

Allistair departed from Sky’s Reach with instructions, and a letter, from Prinze. His mission was simple, while the rest of his party was out carousing within the Gloam Market, he would invest in the infrastructure of Sky’s Reach.

Allistair skulked through the night, as was his heritage, and came upon the spellcasting guild of the capitol. He knocked on the door, and quickly, it was answered by a lithe Orc.

“What’s your business this late?” she asked.

“Looking to hire spellcasting services, and furnishing services. I’m told that some of your members can build and furnish homes fairly quickly? May I come in?”

“Just a moment.” Said the Orc as she unlocked the door and opened it for Allistair.

He slowly walked through the threshold and joined the Orc as she led him inside. It had been quite some time since Allistair was last in a guildhall. It was comforting to him. Once he could find Lady Blackhurst again he would have to request a brief visit across the planes so he could check on his plants.

The Orc lead Allistair to a table full of mangy looking druids. He could tell immediately that they were likely druids because all of their clothes were woven from leaves and plant fibers, and several of them were either covered with bird feces, colonies of insects, or small furry animals that were best known for stripping the flesh off of the creatures it caught on the forest floor. It was impressive this druid not only managed to tame one of these creatures, but allowed it to sit upon his shoulder.

“Lads.” Said the woman, “This is Mr. uum… what did you say your name was again?”

“You can call me Allistair.”

“Right. Mr. Allistair. He said he’s looking for your spellcasting services in building some homes.” She said.

“How many you looking for?” said the druid covered in bird droppings in a weaselly tone.

“What do you wannem made of?” asked the druid swarmed with insects.

“Would you prefer them to be furnished or not?” inquired the druid with the critter. She seemed to Allistair to be the most refined of the group.

“We’re looking to have about twenty domes molded from stone, and furnished.” Said Allistair.

“Twenny? What’re you doin’ wif that many?” asked the bug druid.

“All furnished? That’s going to be quite costly.” Said the she-druid, “Are you sure you’re in possession of the appropriate funding for such a project?”

“When you need ‘em done?” asked the bird druid.

Allistair, bombarded by questions, took a moment to consider his answers.

“We live upon the Skyland Sky’s Reach that visits here from time to time. We are trying to establish permanent residences for many of our current and future denizens. We have no issue with coin, let me assure you of that. And we may only be here a few days. How quickly can you get them done?” said Allistair.

“You? Liv on dat flyin’ rock?” asked the bug druid, “Ain’t no way.”

“What you all do up on that thing?” asked the bird druid.

“Gentlemen, please. That is Mr. Allistair’s business.” Said the she-druid, changing her tone a bit at the prospect of a wealthy client “Please pardon them Mr. Allistair. The three of us can work through the night if you want, completing your request before daybreak if that is what you want. But it won’t be inexpensive. I’m sure you understand.”

“How much are we talking? Dependent on price, there are some other renovations I would like seen to, chiefly expanding the barracks for our Kobold population and our kitchen space.”

The group sat at the table for a few hours, negotiating, counting, and discussing the coming renovations to Sky’s Reach, when finally the she-druid said, “Alright Mr. Allistair. I believe that we can complete your request by the end of the night, and ensure it’s up to code by the OSHD standards. As agreed, that will cost you approximately five thousand gold. How would you like to pay?”

Now, one of the most reviled, yet most important, organizations of the Third Age of Elindor is the OSHD, the Operational Safety and Health Druids. This organization was created by the United Nations of Elindor to ensure the quality, safety, and environmental impacts of spellcasting across the plane meets a baseline standard. Many denizens across Elindor, however, loathe the OSHD due to their strict adherence to code and substantial fines for failing to comply with it. They are not, however, reviled as much as the CDC, also known as the Centaurs for Disease Control.

Allistair would lead the druids up to Sky’s Reach, procure for them one of the giant’s gold coins, and they would begin raising domed buildings from the Skyland. Before day broke the next morning, twenty new houses stood upon Sky’s Reach, and the Kobold’s barracks and kitchen had been expanded, and three exhausted druids descended back into the capitol with a golden coin far too large for any one of them to carry.

*** Everyone ***

Five days would pass, and everyone upon Sky’s Reach would find themselves busy. Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze would point, direct, build, and pay for heavy siege weapons to be installed all across Sky’s Reach, while Allistair and Dolgrak would work to finish the new spaces built upon it, and move its new denizens into their new homes.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 33 Pt. 2

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 05/13/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 33 Pt. 2

This part of this week’s tale begins with the party flying up towards Sky’s Reach from the wreckage of the skyship.

*** Everyone ***

Quickly, those that had trailed behind Prinze caught up to him, as his broom was only capable of flying at a leisurely speed. They all made landfall upon Sky’s Reach, through the front gates before two Stone Giants, one male and one female. The two stood there, bickering with one another, holding their hands up to their heads, as a commoner would when their carriage crashes into that of nobleman.

The two looked down at the arriving group and dropped down to their knees, facing towards Prinze.

In a monotoned, droning voice, the man said, “Greetings my lord.” Holding the last few letters of lord far too long, “My apologies my lord. Hulda allowed the skyship to sneak up on us and take out the ballistae.”

“What do you mean I let them sneak up and take out the ballistae?” replied Hulda with venom in her voice.

Wincing at the proverbial poisoning, Wiglof continued, “Are you mad at us my lord?” again, holding onto the last word for far too long.

Beezul, gently sat Frank down next to his family and shouted out towards the giants, “Yeah he is! He’s mad at you both! You better start making amends before he gets any angrier!” before flying back off the edge of the Skyland to go retrieve Charlos.

Dread came over the faces of Wiglof and Hulda as they shifted from a kneel to prostrate, “Please my lord. Forgive us.”

“I’m not mad yet.” Said Prinze, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No my lord, the ballistae have been destroyed.” Wailed Wiglof.

“No, I mean are you okay? The ballistae can be replaced.” Replied Prinze.

“Yes my lord. Physically we are fine.” Wiglof and Hulda raised their heads at the generosity of the host of their lord.

Months ago, when Allistair, Beezul, Blinky, Maximus, and Prinze had stormed Sky’s Reach to kill another Oracle and Justiciar, Prinze had managed to release a fragment of Jotunn’s power from his wraps, using it to speak to the giants that were working with the cult at the time. With Jotunn’s aid, Prinze had convinced Blagothskul, Wiglof, Hulda, and nearly two dozen Ogres that he was the next incarnation of Jotunn on this plane. Little did Prinze know, he would not be deceiving them. Since that day, they have served Prinze faithfully, regardless of how ridiculous his requests may seem, though, occasionally they do cause him headaches.

“Is Blagothskul okay?” asked Prinze.

“No my lord. Lord Blagothskul has not been okay for many years now. He’s always holed up in his tower, grieving the loss of his wife.” Replied Wiglof.

“Physically?” asked Prinze, now becoming a bit irritated.

“Yes my lord. Lord Blagothskul is physically fine..” replied Wiglof, smug from Prinze’s irritation.

“Speaking of, what happened there?” asked Prinze, “He’s kind of always avoided the subject with me.”

“His wife died my lord. She was buried within this island.” Said Hulda.

“That sounds pretty normal.” Said Prinze.

“Then the island rose from the ground.” Said Wiglof.

“I don’t understand.” Said Prinze, “Her burial raise the island?”

“Yes my lord.” Said Wiglof, “She is the island.”

“That’s pretty big.” Said Prinze, “Was she fat?”

“She looked better in a dress than jeans my lord.” Replied Hulda.

A moment later, Beezul had returned with Charlos, carrying the unconscious Toragon above his head.

“Where should I put this?” asked Beezul.

Prinze pointed off the side of the island, being under the impression that Toragons were descendant from dragons, which in itself was not entirely inaccurate. Smugly, Beezul instead set him down on the ground.

“Were there any casualties in the attacks?” Prinze asked Wiglof and Hulda.

“Only a few Kobolds my l…”

“No, I said casualties.” Interrupted Prinze.

“No my lord.” Said Hulda.

“Good. Well, we have less of a problem now.” Said Prinze as sadness overcame Beezul.

On the plane of Elindor, most animals groups are gifted with unique nouns to differentiate them from one another. Some more common of these nouns include such groups as a colony of ants, a swarm of bees, a pack of dogs, and even a gaggle of geese. Some less commonly known of these groups may include a congress of babboons, a mob of kangaroos, or even a conspiracy of ravens. But amongst these terms, a problem of kobolds and an issue of goblins are some of the least known, yet most consistently used.

The midday sun shone overhead, cutting through the wafting cloud of dust and smoke and the thick cloud that had concealed the skyship above.

Beezul broken the momentary silence, asking, “Why did we come back here again?”

“To kill the greens.” Said Prinze, referring to the Oracle and Justiciar of the Verdant Faithful.

“To put Manticore Tor on the Skyland.” Said Allistair, “Which went poorly.”

“Speaking of the greens, how many of these guys have you killed so far?” asked Dolgrak.

“Well, we killed the bl…” began Prinze.

“The Oracle and Justiciar of the Night Faithful.” Interjected Allistair.

“Yeah, and the whi…” continued Prinze

“The Oracle and Justiciar of the Frost Faithful.” Again interjected Allistair.

“Twice. We killed them twice.” Said Prinze, eyeing Allistair, “But they wouldn’t stay dead. They came back after a few weeks.”

“I wonder if that has something to do with the onyx?” asked Allistair, “It seemed to kill Carl Wester after all.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Said Dolgrak, “Onyx interrupts spiritual connections. It would make sense that, if you stabbed him with a shard of onyx, he wouldn’t be able to regenerate or come back to life.”

Allistair, Alonzo, Beezul, and Prinze stared daggers at Dolgrak.

“How did you know that?” asked Prinze, “Where did you hire this guy? Was he a cultist?”

“Not as far as I know.” Said Alonzo, “He was a downtrodden pirate when I found him. Hired him to take over the skyship after it was taken over. Which failed.”

“I’m not a cultist.” Interjected Dolgrak, “I was a captive. I was a notorious captain with an immense bounty down in the Hollows. My ship was swept up in a magical storm, upon one of the great lakes, and we were ejected to the surface. My ship and crew were destroyed when we arrived.”

“What was the name of your ship?” asked Prinze.

Dolgrak became silent for a moment before continuing, “The cult found me and took me in as a slave, but I broke free. Alonzo found me in a tavern right after I escaped. I learned about the onyx thing while I was a captive.”

“A likely story.” Said Prinze.

“Honestly! I hate the cult as much as you do.” Replied Dolgrak.

“Not likely.” Said Prinze, “How do I know you’re not a spy?”

“If I were a spy, why would I hide in a barrel the last four days?” asked Dolgrak.

“Fitting into barrels comfortably for long periods of time is a useful skill. Maybe you were practicing.” Said Prinze.

Dolgrak shook his head in frustration, “If you’re looking to mess up the cult, I’m down. I want to join.”

“We’ll see about that, but we can always use another pair of hands to kill dragons.” Said Prinze, his tone lightening, “Sometimes we make money doing it too.”

“Even better.” Said Dolgrak.

“One time, I was charged with stealing a dragon’s hoard that was made from the stolen money from a nearby town. I didn’t do it, but the town thought I had their money.” Said Prinze, trying to get a reaction from Dolgrak.

Dolgrak simply nodded.

A few moments of silence passed before Dolgrak asked, “So do you guys actually own this place? Or are you just squatters?”

Prinze, shocked by this question, especially in front of Wiglof and Hulda, turned and walked off. Alonzo, Wiglof, and Hulda followed behind.

Beezul, stuttered and mumbled for a moment before grabbing the now conscious Charlos by the arm, saying, “Charlos, let me show you to the kitchens.”

Allistair, disinterested in this whole affair, turned towards the Swift family and departed, helping them to move Frank to another part of the island.

Dolgrak stood there in silence for several minutes, without an answer to his question.

*** Alonzo & Prinze ***

Prinze, followed by Alonzo, Wiglof, and Hulda, crossed the distance between the front gates and the grand staircase of the lower level of Sky’s Reach. Opting to not physically climb the stairs, he mounted his broom and effortlessly bypassed them. Alonzo activated his cloak, following in tow, while Wiglof and Hulda easily strode up the massive stairs.

Hanging a left at the top, Prinze waited for Wiglof to open the massive doors to Blagothskul’s tower. The tower itself was easily a hundred feet tall, being constructed of large gray bricks, but at its pinnacle the tower was cloaked in crystalline growths. Prinze had never paid the odd location of these crystals much mind as, once the doors were opened, he was usually more concerned with the climb ahead of him.

Of course, Prinze never actually climbed the massive, giant-sized spiral stairs, even if there was a smaller humanoid staircase built into the inner radius. Prinze again mounted his broom, flying straight up towards Blagothskul’s chambers at the top. Alonzo, again, followed behind.

Wiglof and Hulda sighed at one another due to the impending climb. This new master of theirs was certainly spirited, but he did not seem to pay mind to the expenditure of their efforts while serving him. They began to follow behind at a much slower pace.

Reaching the top, Prinze waited a few moments before the exasperated Wiglof emerged upon the staircase below. He gave Wiglof a moment to catch his breath before he gestured towards the door for Wiglof to open.

By no means was Prinze lazy, and Wiglof understood this, and were Prinze capable he would certainly open the doors for himself. The problem simply came about because, while Prinze was nearly eight feet tall and strapped with lean muscle, many of the doors upon Sky’s Reach were built for giants, being, often 20 feet tall or taller and carved from dense, flexible stone.

Wiglof opened the door for Prinze and took a step back before lowering himself to one knee. By this point, Hulda had joined him at the top of the stairs, taking a knee beside him.

“My lord Blagothskul, my lord Prinze is here to speak with you.”

Beyond the door, standing within a room that was overgrown with clear quartz crystal, and hunched over a massive crystalline monitor, was a Cloud Giant, one who towered above both Wiglof and Hulda, even while hunched over.

Blagothskul turned and lowered himself to one knee, saying, “My lord Jotunn. I am pleased that you have come to visit me.” He rose again after his introduction, “What brings you, and your new friend, to my chambers today? How may I be of assistance to you?”

“How is everything Blagothskul?” asked Prinze.

“Things could be far worse given the circumstances.” Replied Blagothskul, “Sky’s Reach was, fortunately, only disarmed in the attack, and the only casualties we sustained were Kobolds, which lessens our growing problem. The attack did, unfortunately, destroy all of our ballistae and rocks.”

“They destroyed the rocks? Like, you mean the throwing rocks? The messaging system rocks? The…” Prinze lowered his tone to a whisper, “getting rid of people we don’t like rocks?”

“The very ones my lord. It would be wise, next time we make landfall, to harvest new rocks and purchase some armaments for Sky’s Reach.” Replied Blagothskul.

“Can’t you just use the rubble?” asked Prinze.

“We could my lord, but rubble does not make an effective or reliable tool when fending off attackers, or sending messages.” Replied Blagothskul, appalled at the mere suggestion of replacing a noble stone with mere rubble.

Now, long ago, in the ages of Dragons and Giants, the Giants of Elindor discovered that there was scarcely a more effective, or versatile, tool than a large boulder. They could be easily pulled from the ground and rounded to make perfect throwing stones, which only increased their value and versatility. In a pinch, or in order to make a point, a large boulder could be thrown towards an enemy, or somebody you wanted to make your enemy. But beyond simple weapons, boulders made even more effective methods of communication.

Should a boulder be inscribed with a few simple runes, which were actually stolen from Giantkind by the Dwarves after the first war of Dwarves and Giants, it could be made to not only carry messages, but also made to fly forward in a direction controlled manner. Should a Giant wish to send a message, all they needed to do was inscribe it with a few runes and throw it. The boulder would then, reliably, be delivered to its recipient. After all, it was difficult to intercept and alter a message when it weighed several thousand pounds and was flying through the air at speeds which could, at times, break the sound barrier.

Funny enough, after inscribing and throwing a large enough boulder, to a target not suspecting one, it would in fact deliver more than one message at the same time.

“What about if we find a market to purchase some siege weapons and boulders? We could kill two stones with one bird? Don’t we have some money in the treasury?” asked Prinze.

“I could hook you up.” Interjected Alonzo.

Prinze and Blagothskul stopped and stared at Alonzo for a moment before Blagothskul broke the silence, “My pardon my lord, but was this a friend of yours or did you bring it up here for me to take care of for you?”

“That’s still to be determined, but what do you mean you can hook us up?” replied Prinze before turning to Alonzo to inquire.

“I know a guy. In the capitol.” Said Alonzo.

“And he can get us some of the good stuff?” asked Prinze, “You know, weapons that can knock dragons from the sky, and tear the wings from dragons, and… slay dragons?”

“Yep.” Replied Alonzo, “I know a guy.”

“How much money do we still have in the treasury?” asked Prinze hastily.

“We still have around one hundred twenty gold coins.” Replied Blagothskul, “Surely enough to get my lord whatever he pleases. But remember, my lord, that since your arrival, gold has only come out of the treasury. Should you spend recklessly, which I have no doubt you will be conscious of,” Blagothskul’s tone took one of subtle sarcasm, “we would not be able to support our population with the necessary food, water, and supplies it would need to continue your operations.”

“Plus, I don’t think a hundred twenty will cut it for what you’re looking for.” Said Alonzo.

“Oh, no I don’t think we need to worry about either of those.” Said Prinze, “Think of this as an investment in the skyland. The better armed we are, the easier we can slay dragons. The easier we can slay dragons, the more dragon hoards we can loot. And the more dragon hoards we loot, the more we can replenish the treasury. Also, “Prinze looked towards Alonzo, “Each gold coin is the size of a manhole cover. I think they’re valued around five thousand gold pieces each.”

Alonzo began to salivate a little at the prospect of over six hundred thousand gold pieces somewhere on this island.

“In that case, my lord, reaching the capitol will take about two days.” Said Blagothskul.

“Sweet!” said Prinze, “I’ll have some time to train.”

“Is there a fat fuck here?” asked Alonzo.

“You mean a Wester?” replied Prinze, “Yeah, we have Neal, but I don’t think he leaves the kitchen unless it’s to sleep, and I think he sleeps at the bar half of the time.”

Alonzo nodded. Prinze stared back at him for a moment, then shrugged, and the two left Blagothskul’s tower.

*** Beezul ***

Beezul, holding Charlos by his large, scaly arm, lead him across the lower level of Sky’s Reach towards the kitchens. Squeezing through the almost too narrow doors, Charlos’ eyes grew wide, not simply at the inefficiency and state of disarray of the kitchen, but at the potential. With a little bit of work, and after whipping these Kobolds into shape, Charlos could turn this space into, not only a serviceable dining facility, but a fine dining facility.

Beezul, however, did not see the same potential as Charlos. He strode into the kitchen, Charlos trailing behind him, and saw what he normally did: A large tavern-like space that had been thrown into sheer chaos by the Kobolds that typically ran rampant within. Oh, and Neal was there too, Beezul couldn’t overlook him, being the largest creature in the room.

Neal Wester was a youthful member of the illustrious Wester family, sent as an envoy by the Council of Westers to Sky’s Reach to “advise” the operations here. The Wester family held great power within the coastlands, being believed to secretly control many of the governments across Valdaria. Not so secretly, however, they did. There was a Wester installed into power in nearly every Valdarian territory, town, and village.

The Westers themselves, or at least their ruling cast, were well known for their immense sizes and grotesque gluttony. Often taking the bloated, bulbous forms of humans that had long ago lost their abilities to walk, and generally care for themselves for that matter.

Neal, although on a diplomatic mission for the council to persuade the denizens of Sky’s Reach to install a councilor as an advisor, had grown quite distracted with the unusual and exotic foods offered within the Sky’s Reach Kitchen, and unbeknownst to Neal, his distraction was about to grow drastically once Charlos had restructured the Sky’s Reach Kitchen.

Beezul was quite fond of the chaos of the kitchen, however, as, not so long ago, Beezul himself was a lowly Kobold. He had bonded with the freed Kobold slaves, after Beezul had helped to purge the cult from Sky’s Reach, and quite enjoyed their chaos.

“Alright everyone!” shouted Beezul, “This is Charlos. He’s an actual chef! He’s going to take over here, so listen to him closely.”

Three Kobolds, who had been holding a fourth beneath the surface of a pot of nearly boiling liquid in order to fish out a lost ladle, turned and hopped down from the counter they were standing on. The Kobold in the pot floated to the top, snout down, and unmoving for a moment before bursting upwards holding the once lost ladle and shouting in victory. Three more Kobolds, who had been having a knife throwing competition with the butcher’s knives, dropped their knives and approached Beezul and Charlos. Nine other Koblds stopped in their chaotic activities, whether it be riding a spinning fan, carving an old turnip, or napping within the salad bar, to join their brethren before Beezul and Charlos.

Charlos stared down at the sixteen kobolds before him, assessing each one. Evaluating their potential. He finally said, “Give me a week to whip them into shape and get this place fixed up and it’ll be like a whole new restaurant.”

Beezul nodded, “I knew you would like this place.”

*** Allistair ***

Allistair carefully lead the Swift family up the stairs to the second level of Sky’s Reach, taking them to a trio of dome-shaped huts on its port side.

“You all can stay here while on the Skyland. I don’t think anybody will bother you, except for maybe the vampire. Just make sure you’re in before nightfall and you don’t inviter her, or her children, inside.” Said Allistair.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Asked Frank, “Not that anywhere’s safe these days.”

“Probably.” Said Allistair, “Probably safer than the ground where the cultists are running rampant.”

Frank shrugged, “I s’pose so.”

“You and Linda can stay in this house, it’s a little bare bone, but next time we make landfall I can work on getting it furnished for you. And you children can stay in the home next door. Your only neighbor will be Skjalvarn. He’s a Frost Giant we picked up a few weeks ago. He shouldn’t bother you, aside from making the common wall between your houses a little colder.”

Linda reached forwards and hugged Allistair, “Thank you for saving us and letting us stay here while my husband recovers.”

Allistair, not used to physical contact, or affection for that matter, simply nodded. Once he was free of her grasp he said, “Just call on me if anything happens and I’ll come as quick as I can.”

*** Alonso ***

Alonzo, who had dropped Jessica off at the kitchens for a hot meal and drink before joining Prinze in Blagothskul’s Tower, returned to the Sky’s Reach Kitchen to check on her. She sat there at the bar, draped in her cloak, eating beside a rather plump young man. The two seemed to be enjoying each other’s company, so Alonzo slinked out just as quickly as he had entered.

Having discussed with Prinze on their way back to the main stretch of Sky’s Reach, Alonzo made his way to the stables. Prinze had mentioned that nothing actually lived there, except for an occasional Ogre, and that he could use it for whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t destroy it.

Alonzo thought Sky’s Reach was, by its very nature, an odd place, but the structures on Sky’s Reach tended to throw him off. He had observed that, typically, there were three types of structures on Sky’s Reach: domes, towers, and wildcard buildings.

Blagothskul lived within the tallest tower on the Skyland, but the largest towers had recently housed two massive ballistae, located on either side of the front gates to the Skyland. He had also seen two other towers, jutting from the central mound on the upper level. One was apparently vacant, and the other had recently been reconstructed. Prinze had said only to go into that one at his own risk.

Aside from the towers, domes were the most common structure on Sky’s Reach. There were three on the port side of the upper level, large enough to house a single giant, or a whole family of humanoids. One of them, allegedly, was the home to a Frost Giant that Prinze had employed recently, but it had not come out of its dome in quite some time. Near the stern of the Skyland was a massive dome, home to the Stone Giants Wiglof and Hulda. Alonzo was weary of the giants of this island, so he opted to steer clear of their dome.

Alonzo wondered if the large mound of earth within the center of the upper level of Sky’s Reach was the home to an even larger giant? Perhaps it was slumbering until Prinze called upon it?

While the towers and domes of Sky’s reach seemed like they appropriately adorned the surface of the Skyland, the third type of structure was certainly man made, jutting from its stretches like cuboidal sores.

The Ogre Barracks and the stables were both stacked stone buildings, unincorporated into the walls or structures of Sky’s Reach, simply sticking out of its flat surface like a tumor. Alonzo had not yet visited the Ogre’s Barracks, but due to the smell that emanated around it, he was unlikely to do so. To his surprise, however, the stables did not smell foul.

Although the structure itself was an eyesore, it seemed sturdy and clean enough. To Alonzo, it appeared as if it had been built with the intention of housing livestock, but it was never used for that purpose. It even had over a dozen piles of fresh straw stacked up inside.

Alonzo brushed aside one of the stacks and began constructing a small shrine. It wasn’t so much a religious shrine, but a safe point in which he could return in an emergency using a word of recall. If Alonzo was anything, he was prepared.

That is where this part of this week’s tale ends, and the next part will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 33 Pt. 1

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 05/13/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 33 Pt. 1

This week’s tale begins as the mushrooming cloud of dust and smoke subsides and begins to drift away.

Down below the wreckage, almost at the exact point in which the skyship impacted the ground, two manticores wriggle free from their bindings. Now most creatures, beasts and monstrosities included, would have died from that impact, the mangled sheep surrounding them were proof of that, but Chester and Chesa were blessed in a way that most creatures could only dream of. They were part cat.

Not only did they land on their feet when the skyship ignited and collapsed around them, and maintain that landing as the hundreds of fluffy sheep crashed into them and were burnt to a crisp, but they were also born with nine lives. To most creatures who don’t have nine lives, the execution of the expression appears as nothing more than an incredible feat of luck in which the feline in question was seemingly not harmed. This, however, is not exactly how this incredible feat works, rather, Chester and Chesa were wreathed in flames, peeling away one of those lives, and their bones were crushed, stripping them of another. Yet, they both emerged from the wreckage, seemingly untouched, and flew away into the day.

*** Alonzo ***

Now Alonzo clenched his cheeks a touch as he drifted down towards the ground and saw these two, untouched manticores emerge from the fireball that engulfed the wreckages of the skyship. However, a moment later he let out a sigh of relief as the manticores flew off in the opposite direction.

With the red-headed barmaid in hand, Alonzo descended a safe distance away from the wreckage, gently regaining his foothold on the stable earth. The wings that carried him into the air fell limp across his shoulders and resumed their normal occupation as cloak.

Concerned for the well-being of the woman he had just saved, Alonzo performed a medical diagnosis over her. If there was one thing that Alonzo knew as well as breaking people, it was determining how broken a person was. Fortunately for her, Alonzo could tell that the barmaid hadn’t been broken, not in the physical sense at least.

She was covered from head to toe in bruises and scratches, nothing that couldn’t be healed with a simple healing spell, but he wasn’t concerned as much about superficial physical injuries. She was alive, but he didn’t think she would want to be for long after remembering what the last few days had brought to her.

Nearly three days prior, after Alonzo and his hires had joined the crew of the skyship undercover to help bring an end to the cult that crewed it, the skyship had descended upon their target, Manticore Tor. The attack was swift, and before he knew it, the vast space in the hold in which he holed up in was being filled with sheep.

He had heard the shepherd had willingly joined the cult, but his apprentices were less willing. The cult had killed one as an example, and strung the corpse and the other up on the bow of the ship. The groundskeeper had tried to defend his family, but Alonzo had heard he was beaten pretty badly. Him, his family, and the barmaid were taken and stuffed into a cell on the lower deck.

The captain and religious leaders had decided to wait within the clouds to mount an ambush on the owners of the keep, but in the meantime, they needed to keep the crew entertained.

Alonzo wasn’t sure what had happened at the time, and he couldn’t risk breaking his cover too early on a hunch, but he was now sure of the atrocities those cultists did to the barmaid.

“That poor girl.” He thought, “Would she want me to make her forget?”

Alonzo pondered for a few moments, but ultimately made the decision to heal the woman, in mind and body.

He laid her down, draping a robe over her to protect her dignity, laid his hand over her head, and began chanting a prayer. Alonzo witnessed firsthand the horrors the barmaid underwent. The violence. The brutality. The sheer indecency of those cultists.

Alonzo modified her memory, removing the horrors of the last three days and replacing them with something slightly more pleasant. When she awoke, she would remember being beaten, lightly tortured, and interrogated, but not violated. He then laid his hands over her, covering her in golden light, curing many of her wounds.

At the feeling of warmth and recovery, Jessica’s eyes stirred beneath her lids before they fluttered open. Standing over her was a handsome, clean-shaven man. The last thing she remembered was being stripped and beaten by the cultists that had abducted her. She shuddered at the thought, but was comforted by the warm energies being poured into her by this man.

“Healing magics,” She thought, “This man must have saved me and tended to my wounds. How could I have been so lucky? How can I repay him?”

She stared into his eyes and began to say, “My her…”

“You good bitch?” asked Alonzo.

Now, Alonzo was a bigwig in the capitol of the Coastlands, at least in the underground scenes. He was a tough, handsome, and wildly successful Half-Elf who leaned in strongly to his High-Elven heritage. Alonzo was the kind of man who could persuade dragons into letting him keep watch over their hoard, and deceive them into believing a rival gang had stolen it. He had done this many times in fact, cutting down on his competition drastically. But one thing that Alonzo is completely incapable of is keeping his cool when confronted by a beautiful dame.

He clams up, becomes ridged, and speaks in short, harsh words, all while screaming at himself inside to pull it together.  

Jessica gasped and became red in the face, “I… I’m fine.” She pouted as Alonzo rigidly turned and began walking off.

“Wait here. There’s danger up ahead.”

Jessica looked around her, “Wait here, in the middle of this field? Naked and only covered by a cloak?” she thought. “There was nowhere to go. Nothing to do…”

She watched as he continued to walk away and her heart melted, “This isn’t over.”

*** Prinze ***

Prinze descended swiftly to the ground below, continuing his search for the corpse of Velistra Frostveil. The search wasn’t difficult for him, however, as he had kept one eye locked on the direction in which she fell since the moment she fell overboard. He didn’t know how she had come back to life, especially since he still had her skull in his bag, but he wasn’t going to let the cult collect her corpse and reanimate her again.

Making landfall next to her mangled body, Prinze produced his Adamantine Folding Chair from his back. He cocked it then smacked her a few times, just to make sure she really was dead.
“Maybe we needed to hurt them with the onyx like we did Carl Wester? Maybe I should get this chair studded? For her pleasure…” He thought to himself aloud.

Prinze stuffed the corpse of Velistra into his bag, for safekeeping, and so he could strip her of any valuable items, and wondered, “What did Beezul mean by ‘It’s safe down here?’ The lower deck was on fire. That seems like the opposite of safe to me.”

He looked on to the fading mushroom cloud of smoke and dust and murmured, “Beezul is probably dead, but I better go check anyway. He’s like a cockroach – it’s hard to actually kill him.”

Prinze bounded across the grassy field, passing by the prone and naked Jessica when he stopped, back stepped, and asked, “Are you alright?”

“No, I don’t really think so.” She said as she stared at Alonzo.

“Okay. Stay here then.” He said as he bounded off.

“Stay here then?” She thought, “In the middle of a field? Naked? What is wrong with him?”

*** Alonzo & Prinze ***

Prinze approached behind Alonzo, stopping a few inches behind and to his side.

“You aren’t part of the dragon cult are you?” he asked.

“No, I’m not.” Replied Alonzo.

“But I saw you revive a dragonkin.”

Alonzo turned, “You mean Beezul? Isn’t he your friend?”

“No. Not really a friend. More of a frenemy. We have a common enemy… and travel together… and live together.”

“You know, you’re hard to track down.” Said Alonzo, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I live on a flying island. Wait… We aren’t that hard to track. You can literally go to any dragon and I’ll be there. Probably in its mouth.” Said Prinze.

Alonzo was silent for a moment, pondering his next response. He could tell that Prinze hadn’t let down his guard yet, and he had seen the deadly efficiency that Prinze could fight with. What was his problem with dragonkin? Wasn’t he one himself? It sure looked like it.

“I want to help you.” He finally decided to say.

“Why?” asked Prinze.

“Those pricks ruined my business.”

“Enough said.” Said Prinze as he relaxed.

Now, Prinze is an odd creature, to say the very least. Generally jovial and good natured, often looking to help out those in need, except for anything that resembles a dragon. In fact, not just anything that resembles a dragon, but anything involved with dragons in practically any fashion. This is particularly odd because Prinze himself was born a green dragonkin.

His hatred, however, wasn’t something innate to Prinze either. It was first spurred on only a few months prior when his wrist wraps became awakened, revealing themselves as not just a convenient piece of apparel for those monastically inclined, rather as a vessel for a vestige of the Giant Lord Jotunn. Since that day, the vestige of Jotunn has whispered, or rather shouted, in Prinze’s mind about little more than purging dragonkind from this plane.

Prinze, who was then good friends with Beezul, who at the time was just a simple Kobold, maintained a fair amount of control over his thoughts, however, as the months waned on, and Jotunn shouted louder, Prinze would grow more hostile towards those of the draconic persuasion around him.

Oddly enough, Prinze has struck some sort of arrangement with Jotunn, making it so that he will only slay Beezul last, after he has slain all other dragonkin upon the plane, and then himself. Jotunn would have argued the logistics of this, but even his vestige was wise enough to view a win as a win, regardless how small.

Prinze and Alonzo both turned to stare at the burning wreckage.

“I saw them go into a door on the lower deck, a magical one. So I’m waiting to see if they pop out of it.”

A sudden realization dawned on Prinze, “He had used the doorknob to his magnificent beehive to save everybody” he thought.

“Makes sense.” Prinze said aloud, “I though Beezul was trying to trick me down into a burning deck to die.”

Alonzo gave a side eye to Prinze.

“I guess I should also wait to make sure my lawyer is alive. I will need him in the future.” Said Prinze, referring to Allistair.

The two waited a few minutes before growing impatient. Alonzo reached his hand toward the sky and began chanting a prayer, calling down an isolated pocket of rain to help speed up the quenching of the fire.

“Where are the manticores?” asked Prinze.

“They crawled out and left.” Replied Alonzo.

“What? I saw the crash and the powder explosion… a second time! How did they survive?” asked Prinze.

“They’re part cat.” Said Alonzo, “they have nine lives.”

“Fuck me! Like a cat dragon?” asked Prinze.

A thought echoed wildly across the minds of both Alonzo and Prinze, and terror sank deep into their cores, “Dragons are pretty much just cats…”

Both shuddered at the thought.

“Do you know who Frank is?” asked Prinze.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Replied Alonzo, “Maybe he was one of the prisoners? I heard the pale guy and Beezul talking about a Frank.”

Once the conjured water had subsided, and the flames had died down a bit, Alonzo and Prinze began digging through the rubble in search of Beezul’s door. While digging, Alonzo noticed several crossbow bolts sticking out of Prinze, who seemingly hadn’t noticed them.

“Are you hurt?” Alonzo asked, gesturing down at the bolts.

“Oh, these? Yeah, I forgot about those.” Replied Prinze.

Alonzo pulled his cigar from his mouth and the tip glowed a bright white as he reached out and touched Prinze’s shoulder. Healing magics flooded Prinze’s body.

“Ow! Shit! You didn’t pull the bolts out first!” exclaimed Prinze and the healing magics pushed the embedded crossbow bolts from his flesh slower than a quick tug normally would.

Alonzo shrugged and went back to digging.

*** Allistair, Dolgrak, & Beezul ***

Safe within Beezul’s magnificent beehive, Dolgrak turned from the golden, sticky wonders and looked up at Beezul.

“Name’s Dolgrak.” He said, reaching out his hand to Beezul for a handshake. He would quickly regret this decision as he suddenly discovered that Beezul was always sticky and covered in honey.

“Beezul.” He replied.

“How do we get out of here?” Dolgrak asked.

“Uuh, well… I don’t know. Presuming the door is still there, on some broken piece of hull, we should be able to get out.”

Beezul walked a few steps forward and tapped on the magical doorknob. The scales on his hands sizzled a bit and he said, “Still hot, so I guess there’s a fire outside. We might just need to wait a while.”

Nodding, Dolgrak searched out the nearest place that wasn’t completely drenched in honey. This whole place was like the inside of a giant beehive, but catered to the humanoid vision of a Victorian mansion.

Something little known to the masses of Elindor, but Victor Weddington, the least disliked of the whole Weddington lineage, was the founder of the Victorian style mansion, characterized by its typically ornate asymmetrical designs, steep roofs, intricate trims, and grandiose interiors often clad with winding staircases and unused spaces. Victor Weddington’s style was inspired by an even older architectural style, also called the Victorian style, which he learned while making dealings with unfathomably ancient entities in his youth.

The two sat awkwardly near each other for a time, looking back and forth between one another and Allistair who was oddly distracted.

Growing bored and impatient, Dolgrak reached towards his ear and cast a spell, sending a mental message to Alonzo “Alonzo, we’re alive and trapped inside of the door. We need help getting free.” A moment later a message was received back from Alonzo, “Understood.”

*** Alonzo & Prinze ***

Alonzo and Prinze continued their search for their missing party members, which concluded promptly when Alonzo lifted a chunk of smoldering hull that possessed a perfectly untouched door attached to it.

“There’s you’s is.” He said comically.

He knocked on it, and a moment later, the door opened.

*** Everyone ***

“Freedom!” yelled Beezul as he erupted from the door. He immediately caught sight of the nearby piles of charred sheep, grabbed one, and took a bite from it, shouting, “I never thought I’d taste real food again!”

Alonzo and Prinze eyed Beezul instead of watching the rest of them emerge from the magnificent beehive.

“That was crazy.” Said Prinze, “It’s been a while since we’ve all been in impending danger like that.”

“You think that was crazy?” asked Dolgrak, “I spent four days stuffed in a barrel, only to come out into a battle.”

“Four days?” asked Allistair, Beezul, and Prinze in surprise.
“Yeah.” Replied Alonzo, “I hired him about four days ago. So yeah, he’s been in that barrel for about four days. You came out a few times to go off the side of the deck though.”

“True.” Said Dolgrak, “You know, I think we could have commandeered that ship if somebody didn’t destroy the wheel.”

“That was the plan.” Said Alonzo.

Prinze stopped what he was doing and stared at them both like a deer in headlights, “You know, I didn’t think of that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I hired him for.” Said Alonzo, gesturing towards Dolgrak.

“Well if you were better at steering we wouldn’t have crashed.” Said Prinze.

“If I had done better at steering a ship without a wheel? Is that right?” asked Dolgrak.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Replied Prinze.

The two went silent for a moment at stared at one another before bursting out in a cacophony of shouts and accusations, most of which made no sense, until Prinze said, “Well, we have a Skyland, so we don’t need a skyship.”

“Wait, you own that Skyland?” asked Dolgrak.

“Well, actually he owns the giant that owns the Skyland.” Said Alonzo.

Beezul and Prinze froze and stared at Alonzo.

“Wait, how do you know that?” asked Beezul.

“I know a lot of things about a lot of people.” Said Alonzo, “And you weren’t hard to find out about. It’s really easy when you’re so tied in with the council, and when every time you return to the capitol its in a giant looming mass of stone in the sky.”

“You know, you may have a good point there. We aren’t that discreet.” Said Prinze, “Either way, I don’t own the giant. He just swears fealty to me.”

“How did such a tiny man get a giant to swear fealty to him?” asked Dolgrak as his small Deep Gnome figure peered up at Prinze.
“Well, they actually swore fealty to my wrist wraps here… it’s a long story. They do what I tell them.” Said Prinze, “And what do you mean tiny man? You’re a Gnome.”

Dolgrak shrugged, “Eh, it is what it is. So how do you steer that thing anyway? A big wheel that you haven’t broken yet?”

“No, we use Blagothskull.” Said Prinze as he pointed to his temple, “He uses his brain.”

Dumbfounded, Dolgrak asked, “What’s a Blagothskull?”

“My Cloud Giant.” Replied Prinze.

“YOUR Cloud Giant?” asked Dolgrak.

“Dolgrak, get with the program. It’s the giant that swore fealty to Prinze.” Said Alonzo.

“Actually, four giants have sworn fealty to me. There’s Blagothskull, Wiglof, his wife Hulda, and… Maximus!?” Prinze trailed off as Beezul and Maximus stepped from the interior of the magnificent beehive.

“Yeah, while you were arguing I revived him.” Said Beezul, “I shoved the diamond up his…”

“I think I’m going to go.” Interjected Maximus as he stood there completely in the nude.

Now, in his previous life, Maximus was often the first to remove his clothes in any scenario. Preferring to fight in his most natural form, often the first action Maximus would take at the beginning of any fight was to remove his robes. When Prinze and Maximus has charged the incoming skyship, and thrown themselves headlong into battle against the cult upon it, Maximus had failed to remove his robes as he normally would. As he was drenched in acid by the Oracle of the Frost Faithful, and neared death, Maximus would ponder if the reason for his failure and defeat was because of his clothes?

“What do you mean?” asked Prinze, “You’re just done? Like you’re leaving? You’re done fighting dragons with us? Done fighting the cult?”

“Yeah.” Said Maximus, “I kind of don’t have a purpose anymore. I’ve lost my way.”

“No.” said Beezul, “We have each other. We’re good at killing dragons. We’re good together.”

“When I set out with you, Prinze, I was seeking the wisdom of my mentors. Of the great philosophers of the Coastlands. But getting caught up in this… in fighting the cult and the dragons, I’ve lost that. I’ve only found one of the philosophers I was seeking, and he was… something.”

Beezul, Maximus, and Prinze were overcome with less than savory memories of the first philosopher that Maximus had been seeking, and how Prinze could barely contain himself from attacking him once he was revealed to be a dragon.

“And now, since learning the basics of the Blade Doctrine,” Maximus gestured to the mutations he had undergone in recent weeks, “I’m not really sure who I am.”

Prinze and Beezul stared at him for a few moments before, Beezul asked, “What will you do? Where will you go?”

“I think I’m going to go reflect a little.” He takes of the magical necklace that he was given a week prior and hands it to Beezul, “Maybe start over from the beginning.” Then handed his magical amulet to Prinze.

Maximus then turned and began to walk off, raising a hand behind him to signal farewell without turning back. Beezul could feel a pull emanating from the necklace, drawing him east, just how Maximus had said it had done. Towards the next philosopher he sought. Maximus would quickly disappear over a hillside, out of sight.

Saddened, Prinze turned and produced his flying broom, mounting it and flying up to Sky’s Reach.

Alonzo, understanding that it was time to pack up and leave, walked back to Jessica and said, “We gotta go.” Before picking her up and cradling her and flying off. As he followed behind Prinze, Alonzo glanced down at Jessica, noticing her staring back up at him with big, doughy green eyes. His blood began to run hot and anxiety overcame him. Alonzo knew what infatuation looked like. He knew what swooning was, however well concealed it was.

Allistair, who had been uncharacteristically silent during this exchange, snapped back into reality and began to count the remaining bodies. He cast a flying spell on himself, Dolgrak, Linda, and Taylor, instructing Dolgrak to carry the boy Daniel. Allistair himself picked up Arnold, and the six flew up towards Sky’s Reach to join Prinze.

Beezul turned and grabbed his magical doorknob, dispelling the magnificent beehive in the process. He noted that the space on the hull in which the magical door had appeared was completely untouched by flames and scratches before turning to pick up the groundskeeper Frank and joining his party.

That is where this part of this week’s tale ends, and the next part of this tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 32

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 05/07/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 32

This week’s tale begins with the party on the cult skyship. Prinze has just broken free of the binding magics of the Oracle of the Frost Faithful, Velistra Frostveil, and in his flurry of blows, stunned both the Oracle and her Justiciar, Maelrix Ironscale.

Allistair, having just quaffed a few healing potions dashes along the hull of the ship to return to the fray, but as he returns, the acid arrow protruding from Maximus implodes, covering him with even more acid.

Falling unconscious by the compounding damage, Maximus’ body tries to heal itself, but the residual acid nullifies his latent ability, causing him to perish. The party laments the loss of a comrade, but hasn’t the time to truly mourn his death.

Beezul, cut down moments before by the Justiciar, struggles to stay alive, regaining a minute sense of self in the process.

Velistra and Maelrix watch on, unable to move their bodies for the time being, smug in the deaths of two of their foes.

*** Alonzo ***

Alonzo heard the crashes and bangs from above deck. He stood in the cargo hold, surrounded by hundreds of sheep pilfered from keep the ship had raided a few days prior. Two cultists, who believed Alonzo as nothing more than another recruit, poked and prodded two exhausted manticores that had defended the keep and the flock.

He wasn’t fond of the ship attacking that keep while it was undefended, or for the inhabitants of the ship itself.

“The Faith of the Chromatic Queen… more like the Cult of the Dragon Queen.” He thought.

Shouting echoed from above, calling Alonzo and the Cultists to disembark and ambush their target. Alonzo dropped his gray robe, pulled out a cigar, and lit it, taking a deep puff.

He had a pretty good business going before refusing service to one of these punks. As soon as he did, they wrecked his shop and started making his smuggling operations awfully difficult over the last few months. And the number of his family that he’s had to patch up because of their shenanigans had gotten out of hand. He had to do something.

A man of action, Alonzo used his connections to find out where this adventuring party lived, one that had been causing trouble for the cult. He knew that if he was going to do something, he’d have to find them personally.

Alonzo walked over to two barrels marked with red streaks and knocked on their tops.

*** Dolgrak ***

Dolgrak was miserable. He hated being shoved in a barrel. He hated the bleating of sheep. And most of all, he hated the waiting for action.

Only a few short months ago he was sailing the great lakes of the underdark, but a slight lapse in judgement sucked his ship down into the abyss and ejected it into the overworld. With his ship destroyed and his crew killed in the ascent, he had hit rock bottom, or rather… what did they call it in the overworld again? Nevermind that.

A few weeks ago, while looking for work in a pub, Dolgrak was approached by a man in a suit that smoked a cigar. He called himself Alonzo Bolin and he wanted to hire Dolgrak to help him take care of a few punks.

Dolgrak needed money, and a foot in the door to success, and Alonzo was obviously very successful. He obliged, and the next thing he knew he was being shoved into a barrel and loaded onto a ship. All he knew was to wait for a knock and to kill whomever Alonzo pointed at, but honestly, after the last few miserable days in this barrel, he might take a jab at Alonzo first.

At least, that’s what Dolgrak thought to himself before he heard a solid thud on his barrel lid.

*** Alonzo & Dolgrak ***

Alonzo turned and drew his hand crossbow as his cult robe fell to the floor. He strode forward, pointed it at one of the cultists and said, “Bang.” as he unloaded two bolts into them. The cultists dropped into a heap of gray robes and their white mask clattered to the deck.

Alonso strode forward and up the stairs, disregarding the shocked second cultists. A second later, Dolgrak and another hired mercenary erupted from their barrels. The mercenary unloaded a crossbow bolt into the remaining cultists, pinning them to the hull, and both followed behind Alonzo.

Dolgrak strode up the stairwell, ahead of Alonzo and drew his rapier, stabbing a cultist twice. The cultist, while surprised at the sudden stabbing, turned and slashed a dagger at Dolgrak, narrowly missing.

Alonzo and the mercenary quickly followed behind, with the mercenary cutting down two cultists with his longsword.

The cultists in the lower deck, now aware of Alonzo, Dokgrak, and the mercenary, split into two groups. The first group rushes the trio, surrounding them and stabbing at them with their daggers, while the second, from a safe distance, fire their hand crossbows into the group. Alonzo and the mercenary were fortunate enough to be wearing armor that could deflect the cultists’ incoming dagger swipes, but each took a few crossbow bolts.

Dolgrak was not as lucky. Three times he was slashed by the cultists that surrounded him, and another three times was he struck by incoming crossbow bolts, but he would not be deterred. Deep Gnomes were made of tougher stuff than your common man or elf.

Suddenly, tiny, angry fey guardians erupted out from Alonzo, surrounding him, Dolgrak, the Mercenary, and several of the cultists surrounding them. Immediately, the cultists were cut to ribbons, leaving behind a bloody mess. Remarkably, Dolgrak and the mercenary were spared Alonzo’s fury.

*** Above Deck ***

Above deck, a hand reached out from behind a door, grabbing the unconscious Beezul and dragging him into the cover of the nearby cabin, but this cover was not safety. The cultist that had dragged Beezul into cover did not do so to save him, but to put this wretch out of his misery while remaining safe.

The cultist plunged her dagger into the throat of Beezul and drew it across, spilling crimson blood onto the deck. The life faded from Beezul’s eyes, and he died. The cultist, standing over his fresh corpse, cackled.

The crew on the poop deck panicked as Prinze bore down on their Oracle and Justiciar. One grabbed towards Velistra, pulling her a few feet towards safety, while another shoved Maelrix back out of Prinze’s reach. Six more cultists interposed themselves between their Oracle and Justiciar and Prinze, all charging towards him in an attempt to push him from the deck. Six cultists charged and six cultists fell onto the main deck.

The cultists on the forecastle, seeing the failure of their comrades, raised their crossbows and fired a volley at Prinze. Not one bolt struck Prinze, but one was returned after being caught and flung back, striking the cultist in the mask, killing them instantly.

In retaliation, Prinze draws from his back a folding chair, but this isn’t just any folding chair. Prinze Draws the Adamantium Folding Chair, an artifact forged in the blood of hundreds of humanoid frogs. An artifact so powerful the stars themselves applaud its use.

He cocked the Adamantium Folding Chair, making a loud “tchk-tch” sound and swings it. A thunderous burst rings out, catching nearly all of the cultists upon the poop deck. They are thrown back with a bone shattering crack, and two were even ejected off the stern of the ship. Six fresh corpses tumbled to the deck in heaps, leaving the Oracle and Justiciar unguarded.

Prinze then produced his Javelin of Lightning, carefully lining up a shot straight through Velistra’s heart. Still stunned by his strike earlier, Velistra Frostveil failed to move out of the arc created by the javelin in time. It pierced her heart, and her corpse fell backwards off of the stern, past Allistair, and onto the ground below.

Not finished yet, Prinze reeled his head back, charging up a mighty breath, then coated Maelrix Ironscale in a cloud of poison. two of the three remaining cultists on the poop deck was caught up in the cloud, first coughing, then bleeding through their various orifices. Red liquid oozed from behind their mask before they crumpled to the deck, dead. Maelrix regained his faculties just as the cloud overtook him.

Allistair, unable to catch the falling Velistra, ran down along the starboard hull of the skyship, down to the gunports on the lower deck. He peaked his head in, seeing a gaggle of cultists all pushing and shoving each other to be the first up the stairs and on the main deck. He conjured a small glowing orb on the tip of his finger and tossed it through the gunport, ducking outside as it erupted into a ball of flames.

Satisfied at the pile of charred corpses, and the now burning state of the lower deck, Allistair began his return to the main deck.

Alonzo, having emerged onto the main deck, narrowly missing the fireball beneath him, noticed the cultist standing over Beezul. He calmly turned, leveled his crossbow at it, and fired. The cultist was pinned against the hull of the deck behind it. Alonzo strode into the cover of the cabin, standing over the corpse of Beezul, and began casting a rejuvenating spell.

The mercenary followed behind Alonzo, seeking to protect his employer. Noticing the large number of cultists on the main deck, he turned and began swinging at them. The first strike cut down a cultist where it stood, but the mercenary became overzealous. A second strike missed, then the third and a fourth. In seconds, the mercenary was surrounded by the approaching cultists.

Maelrix emerged from the cloud of poisonous gas, furious at the fate of his Oracle. He gripped his frosty Warhammer and charged at Prinze, slamming it three times into him. Blow after blow, Prinze held his ground. He had no other option at this point.

Enraged farther by his own strikes, not hard enough to strike down the infidel that laid a hand on his Oracle, Maelrix swung wildly six more times, but Prinze had met his stride. Taking three to the chest, and beginning to cough up blood, Prinze deflected Maelrix’s additional strikes, then, as the hoard of cultists behind him unleashed a volley of crossbow fire at him while he was preoccupied, he caught one of the bolts, redirecting it into the throat of Maelrix Ironscale.

Maelrix stumbled backwards, close to death. But he could not let this traitor be his end. He contemplated jumping ship, but the abomination had torn one of his wings asunder. He was faced with no other option than to fight.

But Maelrix would not live to see another strike. Like a flash of lightning, Prinze pinned two daggers into the eyeholes of the mask of the final cultist upon the poop deck, too stunned to dodge or defend itself. He then ran forwards, flipping off of the chest plate of Maelrix, striking him twice and cracking his ribs. He then followed by expelling a second cloud of poisonous gas into the Justiciar’s face, and finally, while holding himself up face-to-face to his foe, Prinze’s poisonous breath became a jet of acidic spit.

The skin of Maelrix Ironscale peeled back, revealing the bone and skull beneath. His eyes sizzled as the life left them. To add insult to injury, Prinze produced the rotting skull of Velistra Frostveil, from the last time he had killed her, and bashed it against the skull of Maelrix.

Watching in horror as their own bolts were used against their Justiciar, the cultists on the main deck turned their attention towards a deep gnome emerging from the lower deck. They fired at him, riddling him with bolts, but he continued on.

Dozens of them dropped their crossbows, drawing their daggers instead, and surrounded the mercenary and Dolgrak. They swung wildly, leaving both with cuts and gashes across their bodies. Blood oozed from their wounds and they felt themselves close to death. “Why would they get tangled up with that elven mobster?” they both thought as a pale, dark clothed figure crested the ship’s rail.

Allistair crested over the rail of the skyship, overlooking the main deck. “What a mess.” He thought, looking over the dozens of cultists surrounding this new, unidentified warrior. “Not his problem.” Crossed his mind as Allistair flicked another ball of flames over the main deck, immolating cultist and mercenary alike.

Dolgrak had seen this coming, the flames that was, and ducked beneath the cultists that surrounded and stabbed at him. They were wreathed in flames, while he was protected by his new, crispy, shield.

Allistair’s fireball had left the lower deck and the main deck roaring with flames. Unless they were put out soon, this ship was not long for this world.

Alonzo finished his healing spell, shattering its diamond component and returning Beezul to life. Then, in the same breath, uttered some healing words to further heal the fallen dragonkin. Now, healing words from Alonzo are not so much as words that encourage the body to heal, rather, they are threats of what happens if it fails to do so. Regardless of the nature of the spell, many of Beezul’s wounds knit themselves back together, restoring him to fighting condition.

Having witnessed Prinze’s elimination of their Oracle and Justiciar, and the loss of their brethren by Allistair’s fireball on the main deck, the cultists on the forecastle of the skyship wrestled with their faith, contemplating fleeing for their lives. But they would hold strong. One cultist, near the back of the group, would grasp her crossbow and shout as if victory was already hers, firing towards Prinze. The remaining cultists followed suit, releasing a volley of bolts towards Prinze.

Three bolts would strike him of the eleven shot, and one he would catch and return across the deck into the throat of one of the cultists. Seeing Allistair, and knowing what would come next, Prinze shrugged off the bolts to make time to shove the corpse of Maelrix within his bag. After all, there was valuable loot on his corpse, and the burning skyship, which was plummeting in freefall, had a timer on its life.

The success of the remaining cultists was fleeting, however, because as Prinze returned the bolt to its sender, and the cultists looked back in unison to the horror of another fallen comrade, the realization of how outclassed they were dawned on them.

As their brother fell, and they prepared another volley towards Prinze, the forecastle was set ablaze by a flung ball of fire. Allistair’s eyes burned hot as he immolated the front half of the ship…

Time crept forward as the imminent threat of Allistair’s fireball expanded out from its point of origin. It washed over the cultists it was intended to target, scorching robe and flesh and mask alike. The flames licked out over the forecastle in every direction, seeking for more and more to consume.

 Like a colony of tiny, burning insects, it crept down the hull, finding nine barrels. Curious, or as curious as a mindless ball of fire can be, it began to chew through the barrels in search of its next meal. Time slowed farther, nearly to a halt. The tiny flames breached the barrels and beheld the feast of a lifetime. A fine, black powder. Everything a growing fire could want and more. It was enough for this colony to grow and expand more than it could have ever imagined. It rejoiced! Sang aloud as it flooded the barrels and reproduced without limits. The tiny colony of flames looked onwards at their success.

These stupid giants, even the one that had blessed them upon this land, had stood there for generations like statues as the flames licked up every granule of powder and expanded their domain. Soon, the reckoning of fire would be upon them and…

In a flash, the front half of the skyship was gone.

One second it was there, the next, it wasn’t. Replaced by a ball of fire that flung shrapnel out in all directions at a supersonic speed. It wasn’t just the front half, Allistair realized, but over three quarters of the whole ship, just gone in an instant. The party had been lucky to survive, as if background calculations were scrutinized over for hours to determine who would live and who would die. And they had determined, as if by the roll of the dice, to spare them. The whole back quarter of the ship really

The remaining portion of the ship, which had been thrust in the opposite direction the ship in its whole had been moving, began to plummet once more. Falling behind it, because they were effectively thrown back by the force of the explosion, Prinze and Beezul deployed their wings once more. Allistair, who was still concentrating on his fly spell, effortlessly hovered above as the wreckage plummeted below. Alonzo and Dolgrak, who had never had the need to fly before, and thus were unprepared for a sudden fall, wished that they had been.

But it was all for nought, as Allistair came to the sudden realization of what he had truly just done. He hadn’t just finished the last of the cultists, nor had he just destroyed the ship that was responsible for the destruction of their keep. No, he had just condemned his people, the surviving servants and workers of their lost keep to death. Stunned, he plummeted towards the ground in grief, joining the falling bodies. The groundskeeper and his family… The shepherd’s apprentices… The barmaid… Dozens of Koblds, hundreds of innocent sheep, and the two manticores they were intended to feed, all gone in a second. Scorched husks of their former selves…

This.

Could.

Not.

Be…

The sound of five golden coins clattering against the wood of a table echoed across the multiverse.

As their brother fell, and they prepared another volley towards Prinze, the forecastle was cast in a freezing mist that coated the cultists, their crossbows, and the forecastle in a layer of ice. Memories that had never happened left their eyes along with their lives.

Allistair dropped to the poop deck in a cold sweat. He didn’t even think he was capable of sweating, and yet, here he was, drenched. But there wasn’t time for grief or panic. Not yet. He had to check if they were here. If his people were still alive.

He rose to his feet and rushed through the flames to the lower deck where he found a holding cell, one he hadn’t noticed before while casting his fireball down here. He rushed to it and peered inside. There, laying on the deck, was the groundskeeper draped in his wife’s jacket with a wet cloth over his forehead. Frank was alive.

His wife, Linda knelt over him in shock at recent events, and his condition. Their three children sit huddled in a corner of the cell. Their dreary expression lightened when they saw Allistair’s face peering at them through the bars.

“Are you alright?” asked Allistair

“No, we aren’t” replied Linda, “Frank was hurt by those masked marauders, and we’ve been down here without food or water for days.”

“Sit tight, we’ll get you out of here.” Allistair said as he began pulling at the lock. He needed a key, but where would they find one before the ship impacted the ground?

Beezul stood from the deck where Alonzo hovered over him. Weary of the man next to him, he asked, “Did we win?”

“Don’t think we did yet.” He said, shaking the false memories from his head, “The ship’s falling and we need to get off.”

Beezul nodded as he contemplated carrying this new potential ally off the plummeting ship, but opted to assess the state of the ship for a moment before doing so. He extended his wings and flew onto the main deck, seeing little more than charred corpses and the main deck set ablaze. He looked down the stairwell, seeing Allistair rush off out of sight. Curious if he might need help, he began his descent, but he was stopped before he could drop below deck.

The burning corpse of Maximus lay pockmarked with acid burns upon the main deck. A tear flecked down Beezul’s cheek as he thought, “I liked Maximus.” Beezul grabbed the corpse, tossed it over his shoulder, and descended belowdeck.

Seeing Allistair pressed against the cell, Beezul asked, “What are they doing in there? What’s going on?”

Allistair, calculating the probability of getting the groundskeeper and his family out of the cell and to safety replied, “They’re locked in there. We need a key, or a lockpick, and we need to get ourselves and them off of the ship before it crashes in… oh about twenty seconds! Do you have any thoughts?”

Now panicking, Beezul pulled out a doorknob from his pocket, intending to flee into his magnificent hive until the crash had passed, but that struck an idea in Beezul.

“The hive! We can all fit inside of it, and as long as the door’s closed before the impact we should all be safe!”

“Good idea, except there’s one problem. We can’t get into the cell and we don’t know where everybody is!” shouted Allistair.

Beezul shrugged, attached the magical doorknob to the hull and turned it, opening a door that had not previously been there.

Alonzo, preparing to head below deck to provide aid to Allistair and Beezul, noticed a chest sitting along the hull of this cabin. Staring at it for just a moment, he grabbed it, placing it below his arm, and ran below deck. He completed his descent just as Beezul, the black dragonkin monstrosity with yellow accents, finished turning a doorknob against the hull, opening a door that had not existed a moment before.

“What’s going on down here?” he asked.

“We’re searching for the missing employees of our keep. We’ve found the groundskeeper and his family, but we’re still missing the shepherds, the barmaid, and a few dozen kobolds. I don’t know if we can save the sheep and Manticores.” Replied Allistair in a panic.

“I’ll go look for your gal. Any idea where she is?”

Allistair and Beezul stared at Alonzo for a moment before Beezul, sarcastically, replied, “If we knew where she was we wouldn’t be missing her.”

The humor was lost on Alonzo, who glared back at Beezul, “Watch it.” He said before siding the chest through Beezul’s door, throwing his cloak behind him, and flying back up the stairs.

Allistair and Beezul looked at one another and shrugged as Dolgrak nearly tumbled down the stairs. Catching himself on the last step, he rushed towards Allistair and Beezul, asking, “Do you need that unlocked?” gesturing towards the cell door.

“Can you do that?” asked Beezul.

“I don’t know, maybe.” Replied Dolgrak as he produced a lockpick set from his pocket.

Effortlessly he flicked the picks inside the lock, unlatching it. Suddenly, the ship lurched, and with the cell door now swinging open, Dolgrak turned and rushed towards Beezul’s door. He stopped, however, in the doorway, looking back as Allistair and Beezul rushed inside of the cell to grab the groundskeeper and his family.

Beezul, seeing the cell had been unlocked, threw the corpse of Maximus into the magnificent beehive and rushed to join Allistair in the cell. Allistair, who had just administered a potion of healing to Frank, the groundskeeper, grabbed the hand of Frank’s youngest, Daniel, and led him inside of the magnificent beehive.

“Sit here and don’t touch anything.” He said to Daniel, and the boy nodded.

Beezul, less gentle than Allistair had been, grabbed Arnold, Frank’s middle child, beneath his arm and tossed Frank over his shoulder, rushing back into the hive to safety. As Beezul rushed past Dolgrak, Dolgrak sighed deeply, turning away from safety and back onto the burning lower deck.

Dolgrak navigated the flames, coming to Linda and her daughter, Taylor, and grabbing both by the hands, leading them to safety in the hive.

Prinze, disconnected from the denizens of the keep, produced his broom and allowed it to carry him away from the plummeting ship. He watched as flames trailed behind it for a moment before turning for a more important task: finding the corpse of Velistra Frostveil. He gently descended down towards the ground to search for her body. He would be damned if he let it fall in the hands of the cult and they resurrected her again. In retrospect, though, he did still possess her skull from the last time he killed her, so he wasn’t actually sure how to keep her down.

Weeks prior, in the village of Westrun far to the north, they had encountered a draconic beast that could not be slain unless it was first struck by a weapon made of onyx. Perhaps that was what he needed to finally put the Oracles and Justiciars to rest? He shook the distracting thought from his mind as he began his search.

Alonzo, set his sights above deck, searching the cabins for this missing barmaid. He looked towards the bow of the ship, seeing two cabin doors. He checked the door to his right, seeing nothing more than a dining cabin, though it did appear the kitchen was well stocked. Probably from his raided storehouses.

He then checked the cabin on the left, opening the door to an awful sight. A woman, beautiful by all rights, lay naked upon the cabin’s bed unconscious. Her clothes lay shredded upon the floor. It was obvious she was taken captive at some time and ravaged by the cult, another reason for Alonzo to despise them.

He grabbed a crumpled blanket from the nearby table, gently wrapped it around her, and lifted her from the bed. Still gently, he left the cabin, activating his cloak and separating from the falling ship. Her long, red hair blew around him in the wind as he watched the ship plummet.

Allistair, satisfied with at least saving the groundskeeper and his family, emerged from the Beezul’s magnificent beehive once more and descended into the hold. Terror washed over him as he recalled the memory that never was. The hold held hundreds of fluffy sheep and two manticores shackled, on all four legs, to the deck. Thick leather bands wrapped around them, preventing their wings from extending, and wraps around their tails prevented their spikes from flaring out. Worse yet, above all of the impending lost sheep and manticores, was the dozens of kobolds stuffed into cages.

Could he save them? How many could he save? What of the sheep? What if he disintegrated the hull beneath the manticores? No. They couldn’t fly. He couldn’t even get them free. The spell wasn’t versatile enough. What should he do? What could he do?

Nothing…

Dejected, Allistair returned to the magnificent beehive with only seconds left before impact. He sat against the wall, curled up, and rocked gently.

Beezul waited by the entrance to the hive until the very last second, in case anybody else made it to safety, before closing the door. The plummeting noises of the ship went silent to the humming of the warm hive.

From above, Prinze and Alonzo watched the skyship impact the ground, and a second later, erupt into a massive fireball. Smoke, dust, and shrapnel was launched upwards in the shape of a mushroom, and oddly enough, a memory sparked in them as the back quarter of the ship was flung out of the cloud of dust, impacting the ground a moment later.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.

Theta Campaign - Return of the Chromatic Queen - Episode 31

Written by: Flamereptile

Written: 04/27/26

Theta Campaign - Return of the Dragon Queen – Episode 31

This week’s tale begins as the party stands atop the skyland (Sky’s Reach), peering down at the burned rubble that was once their keep (Manticore Tor). From a distance they could see the wafting smoke, indicating something was awry at their home base, but never did they imagine that they would return to this.

Maximus and Prinze, having little connection to the keep aside from a brief one-month stay, peered down undeterred and uncaring. After all, they now controlled Sky’s Reach, a flying fortress of stone. What was the true lost value of this place? It was undefended (obviously), and nearly a full day’s journey to the nearest settlement.

Beezul, however, grieved. He had claimed his own space upon Manticore Tor, stored many of his valuables, and had even sent a number of Kobolds here to live out their lives in peace. Stunned, he waited to see the moves of his party before acting.

Allistair, having spent ample time within Sky’s Reach, even helping to develop parts of it, was oddly quiet. He didn’t care for the keep and the land as much as the personnel within. In the silence he recalled and tallied the denizens of the keep, hoping to see sign of them, but he did not.

*** Allistair ***

Allistair became even more still as he began scrying, attempting to look beyond his plain vision in search of Manticore Tor’s denizens.

First, Lady Blackhurst, his employer. He was sure she had contingencies for escape, as grotesque and immobile as she was, but he had to check. After moments, however, he saw nothing. No sight. No sign. Nothing.

Allistair was sure that nothing was the best possible sign here. An indication that she had, likely, escaped.

Beezul, Maximus, and Prinze stood and stared at Allistair, familiar with this form of silence, awaiting for a sign. Allistair drew his sight back into his own body and the three leaned forward in anticipation.

“No sign of Lady Blackhurst.” he said, “That’s probably a good thing. It probably means she escaped.”

Before his allies could respond, Allistair reached his sight out again, searching for the groundskeeper and his family. His vision was drawn high above into the clouds. There, Mr. Swift laid, his hands crossed over his chest, mouth agape, and eyes covered over by a wet cloth. His wife, Mrs. Swift knelt over him, cleaning, wrapping, and tending the burns and cuts that covered his body. Tears fell from her eyes as she did so.

It was evident to Allistair that Mr. Swift was in poor condition, and would need medical attention sooner rather than later. He expanded his vision out, as far as he could to attempt to get a better idea of where they might be. Safe perhaps?

He couldn’t be so lucky. Only a few feet away, Mr. and Mrs. Swift’s daughter clutched and hugged her two younger brothers as they wept. The cold wooden walls that surrounded them provided little comfort. The only way in, or out, of their cell was a door fashioned from thick iron bars.

His vision again returned to his body, and he said, “The groundskeeper and his family are in the clouds somewhere, locked inside of a cell.”

“Do you have any idea where?” asked Beezul.

“No. Just somewhere in the clouds.” He replied coldly.

Allistair again reached his sight outwards, this time in search of the Shepherd, Earnest. Probably his least favorite of Manticore Tor’s denizens after their unfriendly introduction months prior.

His vision again took to the clouds, this time upon a skyship docked within a cloud. Earnest stood amongst a familiar crowd. Dozens of cultists of the Chromatic Queen, all adorned in gray robes, wearing wooden masks carved in the visage of a white dragon. Earnest wiped his brow and adjusted a pin placed upon his overalls, one signifying his recent adoption within the ranks of the cult. Did he join to save his own skin, or was it a prior arrangement?

Allistair’s vision again returned to his body and, breaking his normal character, he said, “That son of a bitch shepherd joined the cult!”

“Awe shit!” replied Maximus.

“Mother fucker!” shouted Prinze.

“That bastard.” Squeaked Beezul, “I really liked him.”

Allistair, Maximus, and Prinze ceased their discontent to simultaneously stare at Beezul.

“What? He took fed the manticores.”

Several minutes of slander towards the shepherd Earnest followed before Allistair again reached his sight outwards. Immediately he was taken down below, into the smoldering rubble of Manticore Tor where it stopped above a pile of torched beams and charred cabinets. Charlos, the Toragon chef was down there, and alive.

Allistair quickly withdrew his sight back into his own body and dove over the edge of Sky’s Reach, calling out, “Charlos is down here!”

Perplexed, the others fell in line and dove off in pursuit.

As he fell, Allistair wove a spell into the air, allowing himself to safely land. He looked above as the descending Prinze produced an enchanted broom that he clung onto to slow his fall. Great white, scaly wings unfolded from Maximus’ back, while smaller translucent wings sprouted from Beezul’s back. Both descended and landed as naturally as flighted creatures.

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

                          Immediately, Allistair and Beezul began searching for the mound of rubble that concealed Charlos, while Maximus and Prinze separated from the group to embark on differing searches.

Allistair was quick to find the mound that likely contained Charlos, pointing it out to Beezul who dove headlong into displacing soot, rubble, and charred remnants. Beezul tore at the detritus, throwing it left and right in his attempt to find and free the trapped chef.

*** Maximus ***

Maximus, however, began his search a few dozen feet away, hoping to locate the valuable books he had donated to the library of Manticore Tor, and the Scryglass the party had left here months prior. The Scryglass itself was a valuable artifact, but pure monetary value was not what concerned Maximus, rather its usefulness in scrying around Sky’s Reach while they flew around the skylines of the coastlands.

It would not take Maximus long to realize the library of Manticore Tor was in as poor of shape as the rest of the keep, which is to say it was burnt to a crisp. In fact, Manticore Tor, which was previously a two-story building, stones lining the first floor and heavy timber framing the second, appeared as if its entirety was simply pushed over and caught on fire. All except for, oddly, the basement staircase and door, which appeared as if it had been cleared out.

*** Prinze ***

While Allistair pointed, Beezul dug, and Maximus meandered, Prinze ventured off to the newly constructed barn. Blinky and Beezul had spent a fortune to have it built, and at an expedited rate to accommodate that damned shepherd. It appeared intact from a distance, however much of a distance two-hundred feet was.

Its doors were left ajar and the gates wide open, but not a sound could be heard coming from inside. Its floors were lined with dry straw, honestly a better structure to put to the torch than the keep. A single spark would send this barn up in flames that would lick the clouds, and with the hay stores nearby, likely the keep.

There was no sign of life inside. No bleating sheep, although the last time they had left there were over two-hundred of them; no growling manticores, for which the bleating sheep were kept to feed the pair of them; and no shepherds, of which there were three, Earnest and his two apprentices. The only signs that were out of place were a few small splotches of blood that marked the hay.

“Well… It looks like they let all of the sheep out.” Thought Prinze as he turned and left the barn.

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

Allistair continued to point and direct the digging of Beezul, just in case he became distracted, or thought for a second that Allistair was not in fact contributing to the rescue efforts. After all, Allistair had been the one to actually find Charlos, or rather, where he might be.

Growing out of breath, and still an unknown distance from freeing Charlos from his ashy prison, Beezul stopped for but a moment to open Vespa’s Hive, releasing four giant carpenter bees from the basket on his back. Sensing his intentions, the bees got right to work digging, aiding Beezul in his efforts.

*** Maximus ***

With his curiosity taking over, and viewing it as the only remaining searchable space within the remnants of Manticore Tor, Maximus trotted down the stairs to the basement, leaving the door ajar at the bottom.

The basement was dark, but his enhanced vision allowed him to see in shades of black, white, and gray. At first, nothing appeared overturned or unusual, but upon closer inspection, that was because there was nothing left to be overturned. The whole of the contents of the basement appears to have been removed. Alchemy station, poisoning grotto, even the magical bulbs that provided light to the normally dark space. The only thing that remained within the basement was a small, flickering light at the far end.

*** Prinze ***

Returning to the site of the ruined keep, Prinze took a moment to look over his peers, seething with hatred towards Beezul and Maximus for their draconic traits.

“They were distracted.” He thought, “This would be the perfect opportunity to jump them. To put them out of their misery. To…” He pushed the foreign thoughts from his mind.

Moments later, Prinze remembered there was also a servant’s quarters on the premises of Manticore Tor. He looked east and saw it, a small brick building a few hundred feet off. The roof had collapsed in on itself and smoke spiraled out from its interior. Perhaps he could find some clue to what exactly happened here?

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

After several minutes of digging, and supervision on Allistair’s behalf, Beezul managed to free the shell of Charlos from the charred rubble. Seeing a handhold, he opted to attempt to pry the unconscious Toragon from the ashes rather than finish digging him out.

Flexing his muscles, magically enhanced by the belt around his waist, Beezul grabbed onto the edges of the Toragon’s shell and hoisted him out, a feat of strength he would have been incapable of a few day prior. Proud of his contributions, Beezul held the massive Toragon above his head as he trudged out from the wreckage to a nearby tree, setting him down gently.

Allistair remarked, privately of course, that the trees nearest the keep, and the other natural features surrounding it, were remarkably untouched given that the keep itself had been razed to the ground. He filed this though away for future contemplation and continued to poke around the rubble.

*** Maximus ***

Maximus trudged closer to the mysterious light in the farthest reaches of the basement. His eyes, unnaturally enhanced beyond his normal Human physiology, adjusted to the change in light and he could finally see the source. A single candle sat in a puddle of liquid before four barrels. One of the barrels had its side smashed open, and a glistening liquid trickled from within.

Maximus, not exactly a thinking man, stared blankly at the candle as it burned down towards the liquid for a few moments before his attention was torn from the light to the sound of footsteps. Shuffling across the stone floors, followed by the closing of a door, the metallic cling of a lock, and soft thumping from the other side.

*** Prinze ***

Prinze ventured forth from the ruins of the keep towards the torched servants’ quarters. He gained easy entry, as the door was nothing more than a shriveled, charred remnant barely clinging to the stone frame. He peered around the space, torched into black nothingness. The remnants of old furniture were almost unrecognizable, but more interesting than that, he also heard an odd sound, almost like that of nervous breathing, coming from deeper within the house.

Prinze crept around the corner into a charred bedroom, only to see a figure crouched in the corner. From the doorway, Prinze stood and stared at the gray robed figure, and the figure, frozen in fear, peered back at Prinze through a white, dragon-shaped mask.

It anxiously grasped a red tube with a string on the end of it as its previously heavy breathing halted into silence. The two stood and stared at one another for a moment, contemplating their next moves.

In a flash, the figure pulled on the string of the tube, but before it could finish its extension Prinze had bounded across the room and snapped its neck. The final twitch of its muscles finished in death what it could not complete in life, a final tug at the string which would trigger a chemical reaction within the tube, propelling a blazing red ball of light high above.

Instinctively, Prinze’s monastic training kicked in as he attempted to grab the ball of light before it could fly out of reach, but he was too slow. It was launched straight up into the clouds, casting a faint red glow from within.

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

Beezul, having gently placed the unconscious body of Charlos a safe distance away from the fallen keep, laid his hands upon him and whispered a healing word. Radiant swirls of energy rushed from Beezul into Charlos, sealing many of his wounds and stabilizing the condition of the previously dying Toragon.

Allistair looked on into the rubble, curious of the oddly clear basement entrance that Maximus had disappeared into. A moment later his interest would be piqued even farther as a gray robed figure emerged. It walked out backwards after closing and locking the door to the basement. Allistair stared on, like a predator assessing his prey before pouncing, and the figure, which had not yet noticed him began grabbing rubble and stacking it in front of the door.

Allistair cocked his head sideways as the figure finished barricading the door and looked up at him through a white, dragon-shaped mask. At the instance the figure noticed Allistair it began to reach towards it pocked, but a smile stretched across Allistair’s face as he conjured forth a fireball, engulfing the figure in flames.

A moment later, both Allistair’s and Beezul’s attention is drawn to a red ball of flame flying out from the nearby servants’ quarters.

*** Maximus ***

Unsure of what had just transpired, and disinterested by a slowly burning candle, Maximus bolted across the floor of the basement to the door at the top of the stairwell. He turned its handle and pushed forward, but to no avail. He had been locked into the basement.

But a mote of inspiration flashed through Maximus’ mind. He could paint a door in the basement wall using his magical pigments and utilize his enchanted amulet to glide safely through the earth into freedom. So, he did just that.

Walking to the nearest wall, Maximus produced his magical pigments and painted a door across its surface. Magically, a door appeared before him and he opened it into fresh, unworked earth. He then rubbed the magical amulet around his neck and simply walked through the earth, emerging above near Beezul.

*** Allistair, Beezul, & Maximus ***

The party watched the glowing red ball of flame crest upwards into the clouds and disappear, leaving behind little more than a red glow. Moments later, however, cannon fire erupted from the sky.

“Did that come from Sky’s Reach?” asked Beezul?

“It sounded like it.” Replied Allistair, “But I didn’t think there were cannons on the island?”

“I didn’t either.” Shrugged Beezul.

“I got locked in the basement.” Said Maximus as he appeared from the ground near Beezul, “Where’s Prinze?”

“I think he went to check out the servant’s quarters.” Said Beezul and he continued to provide medical aid to Charlos.

Maximus nodded and stretched his wings, taking off and flying towards the servant’s quarters to investigate the source of the red light, and convene with Prinze.

*** Maximus & Prinze ***

Prinze watched the ball of fire disappear for a moment before turning his attention back towards the cultist. He stripped it of its robes, wishing he hadn’t as soon as he did, revealing the exposed nature of the cultist, and grabbed its mask.

“These might come in handy.” He said as his attention was again drawn to the sky above by the sounds of cannon fire.

He quickly dashed from the building to convene with the rest of his party, and engage the source of the cannon fire. As he burst from the building Prinze nearly crashed into the approaching Maximus. The two, having narrowly avoided a collision, stopped and nodded at one another.

“Did you find anything?” Asked Prinze?

“I got locked in a basement. Found a candle and some barrels.”

“Ah, neat. I broke a guy’s neck and took his robes.” Said Prinze as he produced the robes and mask for Maximus to see.”

Another round of cannon fire burst from above, but before Maximus could remark on the anticipated battle an explosion rattled the hillside behind him. Both Maximus and Prinze turned to look at the cloud of fire, smoke, and rubble mushroom back at the site of the keep.

*** Beezul ***

Beezul continued to apply healing aid to Charlos, just bringing him back to consciousness. He gave the Toragon a moment, as his giant carpenter bees buzzed protectively around them, and asked, “Are you alright? What happened?”

Charlos coughed a few times and opened his mouth to speak…

*** Allistair ***

Allistair walked forward as the flames subsided, leaving behind an unrecognizably charred body. He looked it over for but a moment before turning his attention to the barricaded basement door. Perhaps he should have Beezul dig this out as well? Or perhaps…

*** Allistair & Beezul ***

Out of sight, a candle sat within a puddle of oil, flickering in the darkness of a musty basement. It had only come to life a few minutes before, and it was burning down quickly, dripping hot wax into the puddle of oil beneath it. If the candle was capable of thougt, it might think to itself, “Why was there nobody here to enjoy the light it labored to produce? Why would somebody sit it next to these barrels leaking oil? And where did that very odd-looking creature disappear to?” Its final thoughts, before burning down into the puddle of oil it sat in, may have been, “Why have I been cursed to this short, lonely life only to behold a single, unexplainable creature for but a moment?”

In an instant, Allistair, Beezul, and Charlos were bathed in burning hot light. Their skin, and scales, sizzled and peeled back as flames licked across them. Their eardrums were nearly shattered by the concussive force being pushed from the basement of the keep. Beezul and Charlos were thrown forward, while Allistair, standing directly above a portion of the basement, was thrown upwards before falling down into the inferno.

*** Everyone ***

The flames of the explosion cleared as Maximus and Prinze rushed to the site of the explosion. They found Beezul and Charlos prone at the foot of a now-splintered tree. Maximus helped Beezul to his feet while both checked up on the now dying Charlos.

Prinze rushed forward to the crater, which was very recently a pile of burnt rubble atop the keep’s basement. Inside laid Allistair, who opened his eyes and righted himself.

Prinze called out, “You alright?”

Allistair dusted himself off and began hobbling towards Prinze, walking up the side of the crater wall, “No… not really.”

Allistair approached Beezul to assess him and Charlos, quickly noticing that Beezul was a little worse for wear, while Charlos needed immediate medical attention.

“Neat! Now’s a good time to show you what I’ve been working on!” said Maximus excitedly.

Now, Maximus was born a human, and until very recently was very human. But due to some, less than moral, arrangements with a dragon of questionable repute, he has recently adopted some interesting physiology, his wings being of these features. From his very human, and well-defined, back sprouted a large pair of white-scaled wings. Another interesting feature that Maximus had acquired was a fluid-filled sack in place of his throat, which he could usually use to expel a freezing mist.

Maximus reared his head back, inflating the sack on his throat, and expelled a golden mist of healing energies that engulfed Allistair, Beezul, and Charlos. The healing mist closed many of their wounds, and even stabilized Charlos from the brink of death.

As Maximus tended their wounded party members, Prinze stared up at the sky, listening as the cannon fire ceased and watching as a ship crested over the top of Sky’s Reach. Seven ballistae followed behind the ship, falling from their mounts on the island.

“Shit.” Thought Prinze, “They disarmed the Skyland.”

Prinze looked back over his party for a moment before making the decision to charge towards the skyship. It finished its arc over the Skyland and began to dip low towards the ruins of the keep. Like a mad man, charging at an enraged bull, Prinze leapt into the air towards the ship. Spectral dragon wings erupted from his back and they carried him up to the ship. Moments later, Prinze found himself atop the ship’s bowsprit amongst many enclosed barrels. He waited a moment to get his bearings and formally come up with a plan of attack.

Noticing Prinze’s departure from the party, Maximus cut his healing breath short and took off in pursuit. As he trailed behind Prinze, he noticed two bodies strung up upon the skyship’s stern. At first glance, both appeared to be dead, no doubt victims of the captain’s twisted will. But as he passed overhead, Maximus noticed shallow breaths from one of the bodies, noting that he may need to address the man sooner or later.

In only a few fleeting moments, Maximus had joined Prinze atop the bowsprit, and the two began to formulate a plan. Prinze tore the top from one of the barrels, revealing an abundance of black powder. Immediately, Maximus produced a bag filled with oil, adorned with a nozzle with an unlit wick at one end.

Months prior, Maximus had come into possession of several magical paint pots that would allow him to create physical objects of whatever he painted. He had won them in a painting contest, using his might as well as his creativity to ensure victory. While experimenting with the capabilities of the paints, Maximus had created an oil-filled bagpipe, with a nozzle and wick at one end. In lieu of not having a sort of breath weapon, like many other members of the party, he had envisioned lighting the wick and forcing the oil from the bag to create a jet of flame.

Prinze’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the bag, holding out his hand and saying, “Maybe we blow the ship if everything goes poorly. You know, as a last resort.”

Maximus nodded in agreement.

Beezul, now refreshed from Maximus’ healing breath, looked down on the still unconscious Charlos, laying his hands on him once more before also taking off in pursuit of Prinze. Moments later, Beezul would latch onto the stern of the skyship, and nearly unlatch and flee once he noticed the barrels of powder and Maximus’ flaming bag in the same vicinity. But before he could flee, his attention, and that of his companions, would be turned towards the door that separated the skyship’s bowsprit from its forecastle.

A figure opened the door and emerged, stopping only a step outside of the door. It was adorned in gray robes and wore a white mask, carved in the shape of a white dragon’s face. The figure halted and stared as the three froze in place, staring back. The moments seemed like minutes to each of them, when suddenly, the figure pivoted, closed the door and fled through the forecastle to the main deck.

A moment later, shouting could be heard, alerting the ship of the invader’s presence. The two cannons, mounted atop the forecastle above swiveled down, fixing upon Beezul, Maximus, and Prinze.

Prinze chuckled, “What are you going to do with those?” as the cannonballs slid from the cannons and plopped across the deck of the bowsprit.

The cultists looked at each other, likely embarrassed at their foolishness before one spoke up, saying, “Uuh… You’re under arrest!”

Prinze leapt atop the forecastle, immediately snapping the necks of two of the cultists. He rushed forward at the other two with intent to kill, but his attention was drawn instead towards the helm.

Maximus instead rushed forwards, breaking through the door in the forecastle. He threw his metal staff at one cultist, pinning him against the hull and broke the neck of a second before recalling his staff and breaking through the second door onto the main deck. Before him, manning nearly a dozen cannons on the main deck, were dozens of cultists. But Maximus’ attention was not drawn to them, rather to three figures at the helm.

Beezul flanked the rail along the starboard side of the ship, peaking over the edge as the attention of the cultists upon the main deck were drawn to Maximus bursting through the forecastle doors. His attention was, however, quickly drawn to the helm as well.

Spotting the captain, and the two figures on either side of him, Beezul drew his blowpipe, aptly named the Bee-Bee Gun, as he loaded a specially bred bee from Vespa’s Hive, which sat upon his back. He considered his shot carefully. Should he take out the captain, the female to the left, or the male to the right? He decided upon the captain and took aim.

The Oracle, Velistra Frostveil, called out to Prinze, “So nice of you to join us, traitor. Thank you for saving us the effort of docking and disembarking to capture you.”

She waved her hand over the crowd and the cultists all drew their knives, readying for battle. Across from Velistra, on the other side of the captain, stood her mate and Justiciar, Maelrix Ironscale. At her command, he drew his Warhammer and snarled with malice at the ship’s uninvited guests.

Allistair lagged behind the party, being far frailer than his companions. He knew that if there was a possibility that approaching skyship could come down at ramming speed, he would not be on the receiving end of it.

Staying low to the ground, he flanked around the ship’s path, ensuring his relative safety. As it passed by, he took off from the ground and pursued it, using his innate ability to walk along walls to adhere to its hull.

Recognizing the latent threat that he posed, Velistra Frostveil stretched her hand towards Prinze, drawing a rune and chanting a spell. She attempted to assert her will over him, at the very least to simply hold him in place. A battle of the wills ensued, hers versus his, but still reeling from the presence of their surprise visitors, she found herself too distracted for her spell to take hold.

Maximus left headlong into the crowd of cultists, kicking and punching at anything that moved. The hard sounds of snapping bones echoed across the main deck.

Again, Velistra pushed her will against that of Prinze, but this time she was successful. Shouting the word, “STOP!”, Prinze froze in place, unable to move.

As the Oracle cast her spell, Beezul fired his Bee-Bee Gun. Imbued with every drop of primal magic he could produce, the bee exited its pipe at astounding speeds, trailing through the skull of the captain, leaving behind nothing more than a splatter of blood and a falling corpse.

Seeing the half-breed whelp fire a magical dart, decapitating the captain, Maelrix Ironscale leapt from the quarter deck, landing before Beezul. He began swinging his Warhammer. Once. Twice. Three times the hammer impacted Beezul, each time leaving behind a new wound encrusted with ice left behind by the hammer.

Maximus, unaware of Prinze’s handicap, charged forth to the backside of Maelrix, waylaying on him from behind, but Velistra Frostveil had a trick in store for this regenerating monstrosity.

Amongst the many mutations that Maximus has undergone in recent months, the mutation that is often considered to be most useful is the ability to regenerate. Aided by a magical amulet he was in possession of, it had been determined that the only true way to put Maximus down, and truly keep him down, would be to douse him in acid to prevent his healing factor from functioning. Now, the eyes and ears of the Faith of the Chromatic Queen stretch far and wide, and through less than honorable means, they had stumbled upon this information.

Velistra reached out her hand, conjuring forth an arrow of acid, and shot it right into the back of Maximus.

He could feel his greatest asset now become his greatest weakness. Maximus was vulnerable.

Second after second, blows would be traded. Maelrix Ironscale would alternate between Beezul and Maximus in a knock down, drag out slugfest. Maximus would return blow after blow to Maelrix, and Beezul would try his best to escape, but fail time and time again.

Allistair would attempt to sneak up behind Velistra Frostveil, conjuring forth his signature fireball to engulf her concentration in flames, but she would be too quick and too magically adept for such simple tricks. Just as fast as he could conjure the fireball, she would dispel it, and return with a gust of freezing wind, knocking Allistair from the skyship.

He plummeted for moments before using magics to teleport to the underside of the ship where he could administer aid to himself.

While Maelrix would become distracted, attempting to rid the skyship of the latent dangers caused by Beezul’s Bee-Bee Gun, Maximus would grab ahold of him, tear off one of his wings, and shove him from the side of the ship.

Prinze watched on, unable to act due to the magics that held him, as cultist after cultist died by hands other than his own.

Beezul would charge forward to attempt to rid the cult of its head, and free Prinz from his enchantment, but as soon as Maelrix Ironscale impacted the ground below, the magical amulet around his neck teleported him back to Velistra Frostveil’s side, and between her and Beezul.

With a swift, powerful strike, Beezul dropped to the deck below, unconscious and on the brink of death. But to watch his teammate be struck down spurned Prinze on to break free from his magical restraints.

Regaining his faculties, Prinze broke the necks of the two cultists that had attempted, and failed, to shove his immobile body off of the side of the skyship, then charged forwards towards the Oracle and her Justiciar.

In a few fleeting steps, Prinze appeared before the Oracle and Justiciar, delivering a stunning strike to each, and prepared to wreak his vengeance.

That is where this week’s tale ends, and next week’s tale will begin.