During Mognyr’s short five years of life, he has quickly developed an abnormally keen skill in the hunt. Along with his two best friends, Sequoia and Notung, he is returning home from a trip deep into the forest south of his home.
“Three! Three feathered hares! Did you see that last shot? Right out of the sky too!”
He was bragging about the three clean kills earlier that day, and not paying any attention to his surroundings. A strange sent filled his nostrils. It was not like anything he’d smelt before. He bent around to smell his own self, thinking he’d perhaps made the foul odor himself. But smelling nothing out of the ordinary, he continued walking and rambling on, telling tales of events the others already knew.
Suddenly, Sequoia and Notung felt the temperature of the air drop with a gust of wind as the group of friends approached an open clearing in the dense wood. What they couldn’t see beyond the massive bulk that was Mognyr’s seven-some-odd foot tall, currently unperceptive, self was that a white dragon wyrmling and two staunch kobold defenders had been resting in the field up ahead of them.
With the dense foliage blocking out most of the sound from within the forest, the creatures were caught off guard by the ragtag group of travelers as they waltzed directly out of the forest. The kobold’s quickly let out a high pitched yelp and surged into action to defind their leader against these foul intruders. And using both a flail in one hand, and a battleaxe in the other, Mognyr was quickly able to dispatch one of the small reptilian humanoids. In a roar of outrage, the wyrmling let forth a great freezing blast from its maw that cut deep through Mognyr’s armor and chilled him to the bone in such a way he feared he would never be able to withstand the cold the same way again. To end the dragon’s blast, Sequoia sent an arrow screaming through the air directly towards the bulk of the dragon’s torso. The arrow stuck true, and the frost filling the air settled.
Quickly Notung burst into action and felled the second kobold with a mighty swing of his broadsword. It fell in a slump on the ground and the blood pooling around it caused tiny ice crystals to form on the blades of grass that escaped up around its body.
“Don’t let it escape!” yelled Sequoia, as she noticed fear raise in the wyrmling’s eyes as it turned to flee. Mognyr drew his longbow and knocked an arrow.
Just as the dragon turned to yell a parting remark to the group of travelers, Mognyr’s arrow darted through the air and cut deep into the dragon’s lip and passed clear through and out its cheek near the jaw bone. Thus cutting short its foul breath. In its frustration the dragon turned again to flee. And with a barking roar it vaulted up a nearby tree, leapt high into the air, and spreading its wings took to the sky, vanishing over the treetops to the east.
Our heroes were left dazed, slightly wounded, and confused. They were alone again in the forset, save for the two bodies that now lay dead in the grass. Quickly searching the kobold’s belongings for clues revealed a scrap of parchment with a note written on it in a language that Notung could barely make out as being Draconic in origin, but couldn’t wholly understand.
With what they deemed a clue in hand, the party got their berrings and readied themselves for the rest of the journey home.