Homonculus was alone.
He was crawling through a crack in a mountain face, nearly 20 miles from the witch’s cottage. He had spent the better part of the afternoon searching for the crack which Lorenna had told him about. He thought back to the conversation with the strange witch.
“Steady yourself Warlock. We have much work to do… that is if we are to save your friends.” The words echoed inside his head. “Save them”. The idea was completely foreign to his logic. His friends had all passed from this world to the next and Homonculus knew that there was no changing that. Lorenna, it seemed, had a different notion altogether.
She had told him to gather all the worldly possessions he could from his comrades… “You will need a lot if you are going to coax the passions of “Whiskers”. He isn’t easily persuaded”
As the half elf crawled along farther still, he thought back to the previous day again. He had hurried out of Moonstair as soon as his trance was broken, new power coursing through his veins. He found it relatively easy to follow the tracks of his comrades, they were apparently making great haste towards the secret entrance into the Trollhaunt which Pants discovered the day prior. Every time he lost their tracks, or the weather masked the path, Homonculus saw Gladanthia running off, beckoning him to follow. After a day’s worth of tracking and chasing, he finally caught up to Gladanthia. She had stopped just outside a small cottage which was burning despite the torrential downpour of rain. The fire, must have been magical he thought to himself.
As they stood there, Homonculus noted that the elf seemed somehow strange; however, he could also feel that his friends were in danger so he rushed towards the burning shack. Inside his fears were confirmed; his dear comrades were dead and disappearing, before Homonculus could react, was their killer.
The sadness, and anger overwhelmed him. Try as he might, he could not remember much else of what happened next. It all seemed a strange blur, almost dreamlike. He could see Gladanthia outside the door, her demeanor even stranger now considering the state of the other five. Then, she was gone and in her stead was a strange hunched over woman with matted black hair. She smiled at Homonculus and immediately set upon dousing the flames in the room which were fast growing out of hand.
Homonculs entered a grand cavern after nearly an hour of painful squeezing through smaller crack after smaller crack, the magical bag of holding filled with his comrades possessions dangling at his side.
Homonculus immediately saw the creature, a silvery light in the darkness. He understood why the witch playfully referred to him as Whiskers. Before him stood a colossal silver Dragon. All along his mouth were shimmering inch thick whiskers of light. They shined brightly, illuminating the room wherever the dragon looked. The shimmering hide of the beast also glowed, a more subtle; almost mithral glow. Homonculus had never seen such a creature; metallic dragons were nothing more than legend. An idea more than anything; an idea that good and honest people held onto, a hope that there was more than just evil in the world.
Vik’Razel Kiran’ti Lok’Niman knew nearly an hour ago that this half elf was coming, the great dragon had prepared his defense; however, the ancient silver wanted to see what would bring a creature so pathetic into his lair.
As Homonculus stared in awe of the elder wyrm, Vik’Razel bent his neck low and leveled his colossal purple eyes with the tiny half elf.
“Well?” the ancient dragons spoke in elvish, his voice was low and smooth. As the dragon spoke, his whiskers shook slightly, leaving behind a glittery residue in their wake. The tiny beads of light fell to the ground near Homonculus.
“I have come…” Homonculus paused, uncertain of how to refer to the dragon… Great, he thought to himself… What a good start to this negotiation.
A booming yet somehow gentle voice echoed in the cavern, “Out with it, half breed. What do you seek that would bring you straight into certain death?” the dragon spread his wings widely, a magical and sparkling residue trailing behind.
Homonculus’ mind was jumbled. All he could do was think about his fallen friends, the thought of their twisted and mangled bodies haunting his vision yet again.
The dragon tried to interpret the blank stare on Homonculus’ face. The ancient silver concluded that either this was a very serious threat, a creature with great power who had come to threaten all that the wyrm had spent his long lifetime gaining; or it was a completely useless creature. A creature either totally dumb, or without anything in the world to lose by challenging the mighty wyrm. In any event, Vik’Razel was losing patience and he began to think about the most fun way that to dispatch the intruder.
Homonculus interrupted his thinking, his mission clear, “I am here mighty dragon to ask of you a favor. I was told by Lorenna the Black that you were the only one who could help me.”
The dragon raised his eyebrow at the mention of the witch, he hadn’t thought on his dealings with her, for nearly 300 years. The dragon was intrigued why the witch would send someone to him.
“What is it that you are so desperate for, half elf? What is it that Lorenna said that I could offer you, I wonder.” The dragon folded his wings back down and was now using a claw to scratch behind his ear, a most troublesome spot, he noted.
“Five of my friends were murdered yesterday. I have come to seek your aid.” Homonculus shifted his weight, awkwardly uncertain of what to expect from the dragon. Lorenna had told him to not trouble the dragon with details, Homonculus felt a great pain inside him at the callous way he referred to the tragedy which was still so present on his mind.
Vik’Razel smiled wide at the half elf, as he realized what Lorenna was playing at. “You seek my help? You ask for a lot dark one. Bringing five back is asking for the near impossible.” Somehow, his smile widened even more, his whiskers shining brighter than ever.
“It would cost a lot for such a miraculous request…” The dragon spied the magical bag of holding tied to Homonculus’ waist, the excitement growing. Vik’Razel knew that Lorenna would have told the creature how much it would cost to conduct such a ritual… the elder wyrm was fast becoming excited over the prospect of his payment.
Homonculus feeling the gravity of the stare reached for the bag of holding and held it out, “Have we a deal then, dragon?”