It had been many years since Sir Perry had gone on campaign. He was older now, in his early seventies. His muscles had grown thinner, his back a bit hunched. Sir Perry had been happily married for many years but his loving wife passed away a few short seasons ago, leaving him alone now. Sir Perry and his wife had a son, but he was killed in the wars years ago. The old knight had come to fear that death would soon be upon him. He looked around his old, dusty home and told himself that he would not die alone in his bed with none to mourn him, and none to even know he had ever lived. Sir Perry decided that he needed one last campaign, one last grand adventure before he left this world. So, just after dawn, Sir Perry saddled his old stead, donned his old armor and sword – both heavier than he remembered, took with him a satchel of supplies, and headed off for one last try at glory.
For many years Sir Perry had heard of tales of a mighty, ancient dragon that dwelled in the eastern wood, deep in a most foul and terrible cave. If he was soon to leave this world, Sir Perry thought, “Then let it be in battle against some mighty wyrm so that tales would be sung for me that will never end and at least some mark of mine would be left upon this world.”
Sir Perry entered the forest but soon had to dismount, as the forest had no paths thru the randomly scattered and clustered ancient, gnarled trees that were covered in thick green moss, and the rotting, fallen boughs littering the forest floor. After several hours, Sir Perry came upon the cave, tied his mount behind a nearby tree, and with a low burning torch the old knight warily entered the darkness before him. He was not as nimble as he had once been, and the heavy armor had been tiring him. Sir Perry started breathing heavy and walking slower. He began to hold the torch lower. He walked and walked, losing track of time and distance. Nearly exhausted, Sir Perry leaned up against the wall of the cave to catch his breath for a moment. As he did he heard a female voice before him say, “Have you come here to slay me, mighty knight?” Startled, Sir Perry dropped the torch. He immediately went to draw his sword, but over time it had rusted away in the scabbard and he could not draw it out. The torch was picked up and raised high enough so that Sir Perry could now see that the female voice he had heard belonged to a dragon.
She was an old dragon. What was once dark and rich purple skin time had changed to a pale, grayish-lavender hue. Some of her scales were still dark so her skin looked something like a patched-up roof with shingles of different colors. Like Sir Perry she too had a hunch. She seemed to squint a bit. It looked as though she was missing some teeth as well as missing some nails on her claws. And she had a little bit of a belly.
The dragon spoke in a somewhat tired voice, “So, sir, knight, shall we fight to the death, or would you rather have some tea?” Sir Perry, still having trouble getting his sword from it’s scabbard, knew this could be a trick and at the same time knew that he was tired and old, and even with his sword drawn had little chance. Sir Perry looked closer at the dragon and he noticed that not only was she old, as old of a dragon as he was old of a man, but that this dragon was wearing a small pair of spectacles. Sir Perry laughed a bit. He couldn’t help it. This innocent, little laugh rolled out of him. Sir Perry stopped trying to draw his sword and said, “Tea sounds delightful, mum.” The dragon smiled and turned and Sir Perry followed her deeper into the cave.
After a short while they came to a large, round door. The dragon opened the door and she and Sir Perry entered, the dragon closing the door behind them. This area was well, but softly lit and Sir Perry could see what appeared to be as neat and comfortable a home as ever he’d seen. Shelves with books and knickknacks, pottery, teacups and teapots, paintings of flowers and trees. The dragon bade Sir Perry sit in a comfortable, upholstered chair and she took from the fireplace a pot of tea and served herself and the knight, sitting down in a chair opposite Sir Perry from the fire, with a small, short table between them for the tea, cups, and saucers, and a plate of small, sweetcakes. The dragon put a small quilt over her legs and sipped her tea. Smiling at Sir Perry the dragon said, “What a fine pair we are – an old knight that cannot draw his sword and an old dragon that cannot see more than three feet away.” Sir Perry sipped his tea and smiled and softly laughed.
“What are we to do, sir knight? This world has moved on without us. My gold was taken long ago and now the only thing I have worth stealing is this tea.”
“And what nice tea it is, mum.”
The dragon smiled back, “I’m glad you could not draw your sword.” Sir Perry nodded. The two began to tell the other of their lives, their glories and their sorrows. They chatted for hours as though they were the best of friends and had known each other all their lives. The fire was crackling away and the room was warm and cozy and Sir Perry fell asleep, played out from the long many days travel to the cave. The dragon put down her teacup and left this room, returning with another quilt to cover her new friend. Then she returned to her chair and joined Sir Perry in a nap.
The next morning the dragon awoke in her chair to the smell of eggs and parsnips and mushrooms being cooked in her kitchen. For her hospitality, Sir Perry had made her and himself some breakfast. “Delicious. You are quite the cook, sir knight.” Sir Perry bowed and thanked the old dragon. Over breakfast they got to talking more and the old dragon told Sir Perry about the tyrant that governs the town of humans not that far away. “I’ve been wanting to do something about her for years, but in my condition I was unable to. Perhaps the two of us together can rid this area of her and her ilk.” The tyrant was named Lady Abigin – a woman of fifty odd years, squat and pale, with reddish-brown hair, and a simple, not-very-flattering, reddish-brownish dress. Lady Abigin commands a bunch of men of various, somewhat comical shapes and sizes – some squat like her, some tall and gangly, some shorter than her – all outfitted in mixed gray and black armor. She and her henchmen had taken over this town a few years ago – a town made up of mostly farmers that could not fight back. She has the henchmen go around the town collecting “taxes” for her and scaring the poor farmers and other peasants. And what does she do with the taxes? There in what was the town hall she sits up in the big, judge’s chair as though it were a throne, the chair on a raised platform so she can loom larger over those standing beneath her. And there she sits all day long gnawing on turkey or chicken legs and throwing wine down her gullet with a big, gaudy, golden goblet. Her henchmen, seated in tables below and to the sides of their “lady’s” throne are no different than she –
they eat like pigs and drink like fish and make a mess all over for the poor servants to have to muck up. Most of the day and night servants bring the Lady and her henchmen food and drink, waiting on them hand and foot. Lady Abigin and her henchmen live a life of ease and luxury, having all their wants met and then some, while the townsfolk toil away, having just enough to stay alive and not a bit more. No songs, no playing, no making merry for the people – just work. Sir Perry rubbed his chin and thought for a moment, “Eat like pigs, you say?”
Later that afternoon, Sir Perry, without his armor or sword, went to the town and met with Lady Abigin. “My dear lady, I am a great chef that has traveled all over this world cooking for kings and queens, lords and ladies of all type and renown. I have grown old and have not many more meals left to cook. Let me make you, the fine lady of this town, a feast unlike anything you have ever had. Let me prepare for you delicacies that only queens can dream of.” With food as their weakness the lady and her henchmen became enthralled as Sir Perry described the courses he would make and she eagerly agreed to this feast.
Along with helping him prepare the great banquet, Sir Perry had the townsfolk move Lady Abigin and her henchmen’s table and chairs outside in the main street and decorate as though it was a great holiday. There were wreathes and garlands and ribbons and hanging lights. The banquet began, Sir Perry had musicians play, and Lady Abigin and her henchmen were brought course after course of the finest dishes which they shoveled down their mouths as fast as they could, barely tasting the food, and washing it all down with endless ale and wine. It was at the point in the feast when Lady Abigin and her henchmen were fairly well drunk that Sir Perry came before them. “And now for the delicacy only fit for queens and kings!” With that, a large wagon bed with a great white sheet over it, concealing something of quite some size, was brought before Lady Abigin and her men. In one fluid motion Sir Perry pulled off the sheet, “Roast dragon!” There on the wagon bed lying on her belly wasthe old dragon – garnished and golden-brown like a huge New Year’s goose. Lady Abigin and her henchmen’s’ eyes went wide, their mouths began to water. They sat perched on the edges of their chairs, clutching their forks and knives, ready to dig into some dragon steak. Just then, the dragon “came alive” and started breathing fire into the air above Lady Abigin and henchmen. Lady Abigin and her henchmen panicked and fell all over themselves and out of their chairs, wine, plates, and food flying everywhere. The dragon turned and breathed more fire into the air while Sir Perry and the townspeople ran around, screaming and crying, some acting like they were on fire, those in the background banging pots and pans and making whatever commotion they could. Seeing and hearing all the chaos, plus a not-cooked dragon breathing fire all over the place, seemed to be enough to give Lady Abigin and her henchmen the idea that they should flee. And so still very drunk, Lady Abigin and her henchmen ran, as well as they could, down the street for their lives. The old dragon, now with her spectacles on, and feeling younger than she had in years, gleefully hopped off the wagon bed, and gave chase to the squat little woman and crew, roaring and breathing fire just above their heads, driving Lady Abigin and her henchmen well out of the town, never to be seen again.
And so it was that Sir Perry did not go on some glorious last campaign, but he would not die alone, or die without being remembered. He and the dragon were welcomed into the town like two beloved grandparents, where both always had a cozy, warm fireplace to have tea and naps next to, and all the mushroom and parsnips omelets they could eat.
How to incorporate into your game:
Come across the town and/or Sir Perry and the dragon in the Demi Plane, possibly in the dragon’s cave and she offers you tea and rest.
Lady Abigin and her henchmen have taken over another town and it’s up to the players to drive her out of this one.
The players come across Lady Abigin and her henchmen and they plead with you about the terrible dragon that has taken over their home and try to convince the players to run the dragon and/or Sir Perry out of the town.
Over time, Lady Abigin had increased her forces and/or become more powerful thru magical means and is planning to retake the town and the players have to thwart her someone how. Perhaps Lady Abigin and company have already reclaimed the town and imprisoned the dragon and Sir Perry and the players must rescue the duo and the town at large.
The players meet Lady Abigin and her henchmen somewhere in the Demi Plane wandering – as mercenaries, general wanderers, tavern owner in the City Built on Nothing, traveling merchants. Perhaps Lady Abigin has been abandoned by her men and is somewhat broken down and asks the players for aid – betrays them, uses them, is looking for a way out of the Demi Plane herself.
