8am 5 Alturiak Perytons of Arctigris

Having fought off a demonic patrol, the heroes bed down in a protected dell overwatched by the ki rin.  The party awakens refreshed and enjoys a buffet of comfortable breakfast food amply provided by the magical steeds.

As the group enjoys breaking fast, it is clear the weather continues to be fierce.  The wind howls above the lip of the depression, and large balls of snow and ice are hurled by breakneck winds.

Kailute can’t shake off the images of an incredibly vivid dream of the destruction of Zhentil Keep, until he notices Bruh ki rin shake his horn in his direction.

As the group discusses their knowledge of the venerable white wrym, and his penchant for violence Quilro berates the barbarian.

“I'm sorry, I can't. I can't keep abreast of what? What magic you are.”

“I have a blessing from. The goddess of small flying animals.”

No, you've gone from the purity of a scourge of Bane to being okay with taking magical flight. I can't. I can't follow.  Particularly given your…  appetites.”  The thief-mage gesticulates in a high pitched elvish accent.

While the half orc and Quilro quibble, Draxos’ ki rin shares with him an overview of the hordes advance, and its relative location to Bloodstone.  The party still has days, but no longer a week.  The close the group approaches Castle Perilous, the easier they will be to detect.  There is also evidence of an infernally poisoned mythal;  ancient high arcane protection glyphs that alter the reality of a defined area within the mythal’s effects.  Most large elvish cities so protected were denoted by the “Myth” in front of their name.

The approach to the castle is surrounded by razor thin canyons lined with powder ash and snow, greatly increasing the risk of falling.  The group plots how far it can magically fly without having to explore the crevasses surrounding the castle.


After agreeing to only bring the astral steeds as close as they can undetected, Quilro ponders the benefits of a fire shield against the pounding cold.

The ki rin gather around, and within Kailute’s head Bruh’s voice asks “How have these racists built ANYTHING?”

“Fair.  They call me uncivilized.”

The group sets into the air northwesterly, attempting to skirt the weather concentrations but unable to completely avoid the effects of flying ice and snow to exposed flesh.  Even the ki rin express discomfort.

As afternoon turns to evening, the familiar dread of observation returns, alerting all to approaching danger.

The ranger checks the sun and signals to the barbarian.

“If this grave fucker doesn’t have the balls to force his pet dragon to join him, what kind of necromancer is he REALLY?” Kailute antagonizes.

“What are you doing?” his ki rin asks; the other companions share how the barbarian arrived at his moniker.

The ki rin assume a defensive circular pattern about 500 feet in the sky, and Quilro magically shifts into the form of a harpy, causing a derisive sneer from the ki rin before the creature turns invisible.

DonBrapp asks his kir rin to assemble the group close enough for a protective prayer, which the cleric begins to gesticulate his invocations.

In a flash of greenish light all the mounts and party members are bathed in a green sheen of light, enabling all of them with additional defenses.

“Only thing dumber than a goblins mother?  White dragons.” Kailute says drily, feeling the anger rising from the sky.

“Sniveling is to be expected from such an inept, poorly prepared foe.”  The half-orc continues.  “Even kobolds give fight when provoked.”

Draxos notices four enormous winged creatures circling several hundred yards off.

Soaring straight up as a snow owl Quilro sees the same green feathered beasts turn and take a line to attack the heroes.

The group splits with two diving to attack with their wings pulled up and fangs and horns exposed while the other two hover for a moment looking for an opportunity of weakness.

“Look for the right opportunity!” Kailute yells in the general direction he last saw Quilro.

“Don't tell me how to backstab things.” The elf says in his head, owl eyes focused on an invisible strike.

Kailute’s ki rin bruh breaks in “Whoa bro bro bro. Bro, what's wrong with that elf?
He's he's he's. He's obsessed with baby eating.”

“Well, I wouldn't even. Listen, I've never eaten a baby in my life. I've never known anything. Baby, I wouldn't even eat as that baby was born to me. The baby, the Zhent baby is not born evil. It is. Made evil by Zhent society.”

“Really, it's just the elf and the dwarf who think. A lot about eating babies.”

Kailute leaps toward one of the diving perytons from the back of his kir rin as Draxos releases three shots, catching two of the horned, stag headed flying creatures in their wings.

DonBrapp ropes himself into the ki rin’s haunches before grabbing his hammer to fling it at one of the diving abominations. The fling is perfectly timed with the apex of the ki rin’s ascent and the cleric’s hammer is accelerated by the charge, crushing bone beneath the feathers and skin before returning to the dwarf’s hand.

That creature begins to plummet to the ground.

Quilro’s ki rin is flying next to him, knowing the owl is invisible and curious about the magic involved.

“Backstab.  Quick.  Brutal.  Effective.”

The invisible elf-owl and the ki rin bank to make their attack as DonBrapp releases another lightning bolt at one of the feathered beasts, yielding thoughts of begrudging respect from the ki rin at the cleric’s control of elemental lightning.

The bolt of lightning catches the closest one straight through the meaty part of a wing, burning a scorching hole and singed green feathers flying.

A cackling screech several hundred feet in the air above, the buffeting wind of a venerable white wyrm preparing to cast a spell from the hover reveals Arctigris to the group, rallying the uninjured peryton while infuriating the ki rin.

DonBrapp is wracked by the impact of several magical impulses;  but somehow less energy than he expected from the ancient dragon.

Two ki rin take a defensive overwatch while two circle below.  Quilro flies straight up to attempt a position behind and above the wyrm.

“Ah yes.  Behold the ilf’s faith in action…”

Draxos draws another bead and looses three more arrows, striking another peryton in the shoulder and wing.  A ki rin follows up with a wounding horn strike from above, sending the winger creature spinning toward the ground.

In a moment, the ancient white dragon appears to blink out of view, but the vile anger is still present from the same general direction.

“Classic white dragon;  send its young to do the work it is too incompetent to do.”  Kailute howls, turning with his sword tucked before diving toward the creature, more confident in his flying.

A piercing scream reveals the direction of the dragon.

He's a dainty elf. It's those boots I tell you. Racial intolerance doesn't usually make one as bitter as that.

Two ki rin are locked in combat with two peryton, swooping through the air ending up behind and below the barbarian and elf.

Kailute twists with a flying backhand of the flat of his blade knocks one of the winged monsters sensless.  Shouting at the dragon “You're a damn fool. Tactically, you can't use your breath weapon unless you're gonna kill your little babies. Or did you? Or do you really not care about them? Just send. Them to die for you. Get in the fight, you. Bitch ass oversized frost lizard.”

Draxos fells another of the winged creatures.

As they fall, the white dragon becomes visible again, now pulling its body tight into a dive toward the half orc.

Almost immediately after, a figure of a snowy owl transforms into a caped elf who nearly fumbles their sword before bringing it down on the creatures neck but the scales repel even the moonblade.

Screeching the dragon unleashes a gray tumult of ice crystals, freezing raw cold energy with the force of an open valve gushing from the evil flying beast.

DonBrapp swings and misses as the dragon dives by him.

Kailute feels the burning ice of the wyrms breath, singing through his armor and protection.

As Quilro orients again in flight… something appears off to him about the wyrm’s breath weapon, as well as its spellcasting power.

The dwarf is about to expend a powerful blade spell before the ki rin warns him not to, and instead tosses a wicked hammer blow into an already wounded dragon;  or at least what appears to be a dragon, but the hammer looms long into the sky… before eventually magically returning to the dwarf’s hands.

It's OK. It's OK. You're hunt for *******. You're hunt for ******* rugs resulted in me losing an artifact. 2 artifacts. So you know what? We're not even close to even 4.

Draxos volleys another series, buckling the wyrm and opening large blue blooded wounds from the creatures scales.  It appears to struggle to maintain altitude.

Quilro turns back into an owl and swoops down to take a position behind Kailute.

DonBrapp and Kailute both head toward the dragon in a dive; the dwarf mounted on a ki rin and Kailute just barreling straight forward.

“Don’t lose yer weapon to another sphere!”

“Doing my best over here!”

Telepathically. Again, gentlemen. Dragon.

Arching his back, DonBrapp releases another lightning bolt, and although he can see the impact it does not appear to have much wounded the wyrm.


Again the ranger lays long rang fire into the beast, puncturing large holes in the wingspan of the thinner part of the dragon’s wing.  The wrym is screeching and raking the dwarf with its claws attempting to stay aloft.

The dwarf notes the wounded beast as he suffers a raking attack himself;  but the wounds still seem minor for a creature of such power.

Quilro again transforms to a harpy and unleashes a series of missiles that appear to mar the belly of the wyrm, but the wounds are mostly superficial.

Beating its wings to stay aloft, Kailute yells at the struggling wrym: “Your master is is weak and nothing.” Before laying a crosswise slice of blows into the wyrms chest and the creature evaporates in a waxy like smoke.

Typical stupid white dragon.

The corpses of the of the stag headed green eagle beasts litter the area, the ki rin conduct an aerial patrol taking to the flight, making sure all is well. The end of the simulacrum appears to end the feeling of surveillance.

The cleric and ki rin confer on the appropriate healing for all.

There are few things ki rin hate more than white dragons, because they are cruel and stupid, the antithesis of ki rin.

DonBrapp pokes at the bird corpses with his hammer, wondering if covering themselves in viscera could make a useful camouflage.

Draxos grabs his arm, and signals firmly, no.

Quilro gathers some items for spell components.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:24, Mon 19 June 2023.