Naschtok brutah’k goh sha turh Trahol Sorvahr kop da furh!

Naschtok brutah’k goh sha turh Trahol Sorvahr kop da furh!

I remember the drums. They woke me from my slumber. Adventurers? No. The petty little thieves would not announce themselves before venturing into the depths of my lair. It was something else.

I stretched my claws; it tore the ice apart as it held the weight of my slender yet strong body. As I moved through the cave, icicles fell, the heavy fog dispersed and I focused my keen eyes.

There it was. The tiny little thing. Cowering in fear. The others looked at my magnificence for a second before fear overwhelmed them. They ran. The one that was left, a sacrifice. It entertains me that the nearby kobold tribes can imagine that whatever they have is worthy of offering. I do not take offers, I plunder, I destroy, I hoar and take what is mine by my birthright as I am Augaurath the great white one.

Humph. For a split second, I forgot the mere existence of the little offer. Not that it mattered, but it was there. The thing was even Not Edible and I smiled with malice as my body curled the creature. My sharp teeth almost as large as the tiny thing before me. It squeaked. I devoured it as the winter blizzard devours the lonely travelers who venture in the cold north lands of Ice Wind Dale

It all faded to black.

Perhaps it was yet another dream. Ever since we ventured in the Caves of Hunger they assailed us more frequently. It didn’t bother me as most things do not bother the mind of a dragon, yet I could see that some of my companions were not at ease.

• Or’o a Goliath druid who commanded mighty wild beasts;
• Kragthavar the 15th a duergar cleric of Bhal who has lived many lives;
• Fate a Halfling wizard that bent reality to his will; and
• Kashir El’eth an Eladrin whose magic pierced the feywild into the depths of dreams and horrors unimaginable to many.

Indeed. The five of us had ventured in the city of Ythryn, once part of the powerful Netherese empire. Now, trapped under the ice of the glacier. Soon, its magical treasures would be part of my hoard, but for that… we would have to slay a god.

Rime of the Frost Maiden

My scales had been torn open by a black blade of disaster, the wounds were still fresh, I grew in anger. These wizards, I pity them. In the lack of wings, they made cities that could fly. In the lack of sharp claws, they made spells that could render. In the lack of scales as strong as plate mail, they guarded themselves with iron golems. For what? No beggar ever rose to be king. It was no different with the wizards from Ythryn. Their city still fell, their name was long gone, and their empire was no more. Nonetheless, the artifact that once powered the city had still magic and Auril was using it to empower her never-ending winter.

I was here long before the Netherese and I remember the last Dracorage. Yes. The corrupt magic of the artifact could affect us dragons. It could make us go into rampage so, while my companions sought the artifact to destroy Auril’s spell, I sought it to make sure that no petty humanoid would ever bask into the magic of old once again.

There we were, in the chamber that once belonged to the high council of mages that governed the city. It held secrets on how to operate the artifact that rested in the base of the tower. We examined the place and its magic. Soon it would be all over, but not before winter came to us.

The air got thicker. The ice made thin layers over armour and scales. Bodies shivered, fighting the overwhelming cold. The first flocks came timidly through the barred windows of the tower. Then, a blizzard slammed the heavy doors of the chamber opposite to ours. There she was, the ice whore claiming that the artifact was hers. So she thought.

I can imagine scholars having long debates on whether a white dragon would bowl to the goddess of winter. I suppose the little races call that philosophy. It entices me how they name things to show glimpses of an intellect. Regardless, I do not bowl and if the opportunity was there before me, I would take the divine spark of the goddess for myself. Again, petty races have a name for this. I presume they call it greedy.

The winter maiden got ready to assail us. I was faster, imposing my body between her and my followers. They would hardly have any chance to resist her sharp talons, but I could take it. My claws fell deep into her thick owlbear hide. She growled. In a split second, her body broke into millions of tiny little snowflakes and she reappeared elsewhere. Of course that she was running. Who wouldn’t?

Or’o brought his powerful bear totem to protect his allies. Kragthavar threw a spell at her as a warning shot. Fate enhanced our attacks with arcane magic while Kashir cast scorching rays at her. She broke into the snowflakes again. This time, reappearing in the form of an ice elemental. Her mere presence started to freeze my followers alive. I rushed towards her, claws and teeth breaking her icy body. The flocks once again.

Nothing emerged from the snowflakes this time. They expanded and absorbed the entirety of the room into a dense snowstorm. We could barely see. Ice javelins flew from something within the blizzard. They pierced my shoulder. The mighty summons that Or’o brought to the fray were gone and our spellcasters could not cast magic into what they could not see. The barrage of ice javelins continued. Rather than pure white, the snowstorm was mixed with red droplets of blood. We were losing.

Kashir tore up reality. An aberration stepped through the rift. It didn’t have a purpose other than find and kill the goddess. If it had to have a chance, I would have to protect it from the mortal ice javelins. I went into the blizzard.

Naschtok brutah’k goh sha turh Trahol Sorvahr kop da furh!
Naschtok brutah’k goh sha turh Trahol Sorvahr kop da furh!

I remember the drums. They woke me from my slumber. Adventurers? No. It was something else.

The Kobold squeaked as I moved for the kill. The funny thing is, it wouldn’t merely die as this was Auril’s snowstorm curse of isolation. There, alone in the white snowy fields, the tiny kobold would lose his mind. It would think it was something greater than itself. It would think that his axes were like claws and that his shield was his scales.
In desperation for her survival, Auril’s curse created what would destroy her. It created me, Augaurath

I endured Auril’s ice shards as Kashir’s aberration went for the kill. The blizzard faded. The goddess? Dead. The Rime of the Frost Maiden? A tale that the citizens of the tens towns would tell to scary their children so that they would not venture into the embracing snow to be never seen again.

The tale plays with the fact that my PC got cursed during this campaign. He is a Kobold (named Not Edible) that believes that he is in fact a great white dragon.

Details were omitted and/or modified, so I don’t spoil much of an official Adventures League game. I am not a native speaker and this is a small exercise to improve my writing. Please be kind.