Onward from Ironwale

After struggling to get some cold weather gear, my companions and I may be ready to depart for the far north. Tazi and Urr have once again succeeded in casting a ritual to curse and slow the travels of my insane brother Frer’solund.

Between fiddling with that planar portal this afternoon in the dungeons of the library, and after studying some books in my possession for the last couple of weeks, I feel like I’ve had a small personal breakthrough in my understanding of Arcana. Arcane rituals had never suited me in my studies in the past, due to the impracticality in battle. But I’ve gone ahead and invested some of the troupe’s money into some rituals that will serve me and my companions well. We may be planning to go to the north by Captain Eamon Leafshank’s zeppelin, but I do believe we will be returning by way of portal. In my goal to be master of magic, I feel like I am finally getting on the right path.

When we got to The Mountain’s Heart zeppelin the next morning, Dodd Whitewood was all geared up to navigate. Eamon really knows how to pick his crew. Dodd has got a bird on his shoulder, which made my companions and I chuckle. Dresorth seems concerned about whether or not the zeppelin is in good working order, (considering the work we did on it yesterday), but after a quick inspection he seemed satisfied. (I’m not sure Dresorth knows what he is talking about. Poor thing isn’t very bright.)

Right at departure, for some reason Eamon abandoned the helm to go below deck, but then returned with a giant keg – and then proceeded to christen the vessel with it. It was awkward, but I guess a necessary ritual, for the maiden voyage. Eamon seemed bothered by Tazi’s reaction to grab the wheel, but personally I would be happy not to see this rickety craft’s steering abandoned. Dresorth promises good weather, but I’m not sure his predictions are good for more than 50 or 60 miles out. I doubt very many non-winged creatures are good at predicting continental weather patterns.

We got a quick tour of the zeppelin. Evidence of frugality surrounds us. As every step passes by, I worry a little more about whether or not we’ll reach our destination safely – though the point may be moot when we get there. We are no match for Frer’solund, but he has Urr’s friend brother Marsh MacReady, and we owe it our best to try to rescue him. As Urr napped in order to ready another curse upon by distant brother, and Shamash dozed in public, I took the time to meditate in the breeze at the front of the ship. There is one thing about the sky that I knew to expect: it has its way of being peaceful, and I wish it would last. But in these times, I knew it couldn’t.

The next day, we were well over wintry lands. We passed over an icy forest. Needless to say, the air was chilly and we were well wrapped. The crew on the other hand was not as well prepared, and they were not happy to repay their debt to us in this way. Dresorth went around and tucked everyone’s pants into their stockings, and they seemed a little grateful – I guess common sense has its uses. The boat rocks a little in the breeze, but everyone seems to be stomaching it well. As the clouds began to thicken, Leafshank decided to slow down the boat. Urr voiced concern that the cloud cover could be a sign of danger, and the crew started mumbling concerns as well, but then we heard a reptilian roar from the clouds ahead.

We were attacked by a great white dragon and her wyrmling cubs. She ignored my pleas in Draconic, and roared, inciting her frightful presence. As I was petrified, her infant spawn swarmed the ship, frightening the crew. We could have defeated her young, but she intervened with her wrath as soon as a couple well-aimed hits drew her attention. We fought tooth and nail with her and her children. As the ship’s helm was repeatedly left unattended, and the mother dragon bore all of her weight on the aft of the deck, we began to lose altitude. I’m not sure if it was one of her icy blasts, or the claws of one of the wyrmlings, but one of the poor crew members was macerated before he could make it below to relative safety.

We managed to kill all of her spawn just in time for a barely-controlled crash landing. She left with a roar, tearing the ship with her giant talons and her sheer weight. The ship looks pretty roughed up, but sky-worthy. But as the dragon left, she eyed us with the rage of a mother who has lost her children, and the rage of a wild animal that knows her territory is still threatened.

I’m not sure what we’ll do. If we take off again, she’ll surely hunt us down and destroy the ship, killing us all. I could portal the surviving crew back to Ironwale, but they would never see their ship again, effectively losing it during what should have been an uneventful maiden voyage. Regardless, it is unsafe to remain idle. Even if not for the dragon, Frer’solund is out there somewhere. And it is starting to get cold.