A surprising turn of events
True to form, the priests of Waukeen feel little compulsion to part with any of their own coin, despite Lyssander's exhortations otherwise. They explain as politely as possible that the return of the wyrmling, while outwardly and obviously beneficial to the people of Phent as a whole and to the trade generated within the city's limits in particular, it is not *their* quest to complete the safe return of the child to his sire, and in any case, dragons and Thayans rarely ever offer something of fair or equal marketable value when pressed into service.
William's concern about the boy travelling with them is echoed by Kraansh and others, and it is decided that Jade's safety would best be promoted by allowing him to remain in the temple's basement sanctuary for the remainder of the day.
That being said, the party once again ascends the spiral staircase and emerges into the light of the midmorning sun. The events from the night before still wear on their minds and their muscles; truth be told, those involved in the recent battle in the orchard wouldn't turn down another few hours of sleep. And a hot bath. And a banquet.
"To arms! To arms!" The call was loud and clear, shouted from the tops of the two nearest towers to the east, and echoed through the town's streets by knots of guards and citizens alike. The streets were abuzz with activity, though not exactly the type one might expect from a town [possibly] on the verge of invasion by outside forces.
"What is it?" asks one passerby to another.
"An army on the south road!" comes the quick reply. The party of heroes turns right and follows the main swath of curious merchants and tradesmen heading in that direction.
"Thayans? Giants? Orcs?" A flurry of possible antagonists are thrown about, some outlandish, others -like the orc suggestion - are quickly squelched by shaking heads and angry glares. Theskian orcs, after all, are the lifeblood of the mining community hereabouts.
"No...gnomes!" The nearby crowd stops, and one person laughs...a sound which, while nervously given, is quickly taken up by the surrounding people. Gnomes, indeed! They haven't been hostile to humans in, well, ever. Why should Phent endure a call to arms over them?
But, as the gathering reaches the southern edge of town, it is clear that there is a small contingent [no pun intended] of armed and armored gnomes marching up the road from the southeast, perhaps a hundred, perhaps more. Dirty and sweaty they seemed a grim lot, marching in fair unison and led by an honor guard which contained no less than three unarmored brethren. Dimplomats, no doubt.
"We are the heralds of Filauxerimos!" The front-most gnome called out as their company came to a halt some thirty paces from the nearest nervous human guard. As he spoke, the two gnomes to either side of him unfurled great [for their size] banners which, once unfurled, bore shining coppery dragons upon their cloth. The rippling of the breeze on the pennants gave the illusion of flight to the banners, and the crowd of onlookers gasped audibly at the majesty of the unveiling.
"Now see here, good sir" declared the sergeant of the watch, stepping forward from his squad of guardsmen. "If you wish a formal audience with the mayor, that's one thing, but you can't just come traipsing into Phent with an army of men and..." A raised hand from the foremost gnome stifles the man as quickly as any blow to the head would have.
"We have heard that there is a great and terrible tragedy taking place in your town, to the extent that many are emboldened to strike out at former allies, while still more are cowed into a failure to act against those same bold knaves!" The gnome herald's voice was rich and resonant, seemingly 'too big' for his frame, yet somehow it seemed to fit the man's personality just right.
"We are here to ensure, above all, that peace continues to reign in Phent, the community that has given so much to us, and our friends and allies in this corner of Faerun. To that end, we have informed our Lord of these events, and now invite him to deal with matters directly." The gnome takes from around his neck a fine chain, upon which is suspended a large, finely cut emerald of rather large proportions. Backed by a shiny silver disk, the gnome angles it in such a way as to send a glowing green beam of light up into the air, visible even in the bright day's sky.
A gasp from the crowd again, paired with dozens of pointing hands, and all heads turn to the west. Flying low over the rooftops there comes the largest gold...no, copper...dragon anyone has ever seen. Wingtip-to-wingtip it spans more than eight horses in length, and nose-to-tail is even longer. It makes a low pass over the crowd, eliciting less fear than one might expect, and more awe-inspired sounds of grand appreciation. Clearly, these people have grown up in the shadow of Old Filaux and his frequent forays from his fortress atop The Dragon's Tooth, and feel they have nothing to fear from him now. Ah, how oblivious they are to the whole situation.
Filaux loops once more around the south end of town, coming to light near the gnomes in a rather graceful end to his flight, only barely disturbing the dust from the ground near them. In fact, so stoic are the gnome warriors that none even bat an eye or cough in his wake. The herald and his retinue all bow deeply to the drake.
"So, Haerominim, you have news for me." It was clearly a statement, not a question, and the force of the copper dragon's personality could be felt through his voice. Friendly, but no-nonsense.
"Yes sir. Our informants tell us your son is in this town now, in the trusted care of...them." The gnome's upraised hand and unwavering finger thrust out at the crowd, which parts as if by magic, allowing the small finger to point unerringly at...the adventurers. Specifically, Talrylil.
"I don't see him, or smell him." Filaux turns his toothy head toward the group, but does not advance. "Tell me, elf, what have you done with my youngest hatchling? Tell me, and then tell me how you wish to be handled before I eat you." The grin matches the threat.
Tal was about to tell the dragon that the boy was safe, tucked away in the deep recesses of the temple, guarded by a number of guards, priests, and a very large orc. He was going to tell him that the boy was safe, but that there were just too many loose ends still running around in the town to bring him out just yet. He was going to tell the dragon that they were just about to contact him themselves, which is why they were out here on the street at this very moment. But, alas, he, too, was interrupted by someone in the crowd.
"Then slay him, Filauxerimos!" The shout came from somewhere further to the east in the crowd, and heads turned this way and that to find out who said it. A heckler? No, not really, though the voice sounded familiar to several of those present.
"I do not take the counsel of others when handling personal affairs of justice." Filaux's head swivelled, as did those of the gnomes. The warriors, though still in their ranks and files, also seemed to tense perceptibly. "Who dares to be so brazen as to dictate a course of action to a dragon?"
"I do!" said the man, as he stepped out from the front ranks of the crowd. His clothes were new, and his looks changed just slightly, but there was no denying that this man was the leader of the local Cult of the Dragon, the single greatest threat to both Jade and his benefactors. In his hand he held before him a strangely glowing orb which pulsated and hummed ever so softly. "I dare, and I command you to slay him! And your cohorts! And this entire town!" He thrust the crystal forward with each emphatic phrase, accentuating his words with the gesture. Beside him, several people detatched themselves from the crowd and brandished blades to keep those closest at bay.
So bold and unexpected was his outburst that none in the crowd could scarecely believe what they were hearing, and so no one made a move. "And while I hold the Orb of the Elder Drake, you cannot resist. You will first be my slave, and then my undead minion, and I shall raise your child to be..."
The gnome herald, ignored until now, opened his mouth and vomited a stream of greenish-brown liquid at the man. As it struck him his flesh bubbled and peeled, and his bones melted away almost instantly. So sudden and unexpected was the attack that the cultist didn't even have time to scream. As his shrinking, smoking remains settled to the ground in a puddle of goo, the gnome trotted up and took the orb from where it lay on the ground, rolling it over inbetween his two hands like a great green bowling ball. Behind him, the huge copper dragon dissolved into a fine mist and was carried away on the breeze, while the remaining cultists pushed their way back into the crowd in a hasty attempt to retreat. They didn't get far.
"I knew those bastards wouldn't be able to resist." A broad smile creased the gnome's face, and while the crowd watched, the gnome suddenly grew, expanding in size and changing shape until at last the *true* form of Filauxerimos was standing before the crowd of townsfolk. He was somewhat less grand in size and stature than his illusion had been.
"And I thank you for your help" he added, nodding in the direction of the party members. "My network of spies in town is not infalliable or without its drawbacks, but at least I've managed to deal a blow to one faction interested in my blood and kin." He grinned down at the heroes again. "My friends here, however, *are* real, and would like very much to partake of your ales on this hot spring day." A great cheer went up from the company of gnomes, who were ushered into the town with much merriment and song.