Lords of RPG

Embril the Dragon

Frightal-lok and his squad of undead henchmen strode toward the necromancer's tower. It was hewn from large black stones that posed a stark contrast to the blue sky. A screech could be heard coming from the castle. The unholy noise echoed against the canyon walls below the tower.

The squad approached directly to the large doors that was the only way into the tower. As they stopped to inspect the entry, a whooshing sound could be heard. Then the sun was darkened. Frightal-lok yelled, "take cover!"  

Everyone scampered in all directions as flames engulfed the entryway and doors. 

They run into the tower to take cover from the dragon. Frightal-lok went invisible and took aim with his great bow. The shot threw the javelin-sized arrow at the dragon's wing. The creature fell from the sky, landing in the canyon below. It was still alive. 

The necromancer's voice guided the squad down into the bowels of the keep. It was cavernous and led to some cliffs overlooking the canyon about halfway down.

The dragon could be seen limping along bellowing in anger. Frightal-lok started hurling boulders at it with thumping impacts, letting gravity do most of the work. He turns to one of the undead creatures and hurls him onto the dragon.  It begins clawing and biting the creature. The dragon finally chomps on its leg throwing it to the ground where it beats it with its tail. 

"Dragon!", yells the violet colored ogre. "Yield and will let you live."

The dragon spews the common tongue in disgust of having to speak it, "You have crippled me! What use is a dragon that can't fly?"

Frightal-lok simply states, "I could find many uses for dragon such as yourself. Come dragon remain in the keep as my master's guardian. You will yet flambee tiny morsels again...humans, elves, gnomes. I'm making myself hungry. I have some recipes you might like."

"Embril is my name, mortal," says the dragon. "And I accept your terms."

Back at the tower, Frightal-lok looks through the dragon's lair. He finds only skeletons and a a ring. A ring of protection +2.

As the agreement was struck, Embril the Dragon lowered its head in submission. Frightal-lok could see the anger in its eyes, but also a glimmer of acceptance. The undead henchmen cautiously approached the wounded dragon, ready to strike if it showed any sign of treachery. But Embril seemed to understand that resistance was futile at this point.

"Welcome to your new home, Embril," Frightal-lok said, his voice tinged with a hint of triumph. "You shall find that serving my master has its benefits."

Embril snorted, smoke billowing from its nostrils, but it didn't protest. It knew it was no match for the combined forces of Frightal-lok's squad and the powerful necromancer master they served. It had been a mighty and fearsome creature, reigning terror upon the land, but now fate had brought it low.

The necromancer, hidden in the shadows, watched the scene unfold with a sinister grin. He had long sought to control a dragon, and now, with Embril under his command, he felt a rush of dark power coursing through him.

Frightal-lok's squad escorted Embril deeper into the keep, where they prepared a large chamber for the dragon to rest. It was a cavernous space with high ceilings, perfect for housing the massive creature. Chains and magical barriers were placed around to ensure Embril couldn't escape.

Embril was filled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, it despised being bound and controlled. On the other, the pain from its wounded wing made it realize that it was vulnerable. Perhaps serving this master wasn't the worst fate for now.

As the days passed, Embril's wound slowly healed, but the fire in its heart burned brighter. It observed the undead henchmen go about their duties, under Frightal-lok's watchful eye. Although the dragon was bound, it knew it still had some power left.

One night, as the keep was shrouded in darkness, Embril decided to test the limits of its captivity. With a mighty roar, it summoned what little magic it could still muster and broke free from its chains. The undead henchmen were caught off guard, but Frightal-lok was quick to react.

He materialized from his invisibility and shouted, "Embril, stop! You will only bring more suffering upon yourself!"

But Embril was determined to break free. It lunged towards the entrance, knocking aside anything in its path. The necromancer, alerted by the commotion, appeared before the dragon.

"Embril, enough!" he commanded, his voice resonating with dark energy.

The dragon hesitated for a moment, torn between its desire for freedom and the realization that escape might not be possible. In the end, it decided to yield once more, but this time with a glint of defiance in its eyes.

"I will obey for now," Embril rumbled, "but do not mistake this compliance for loyalty. The day may come when I find a way to be free again."

The necromancer chuckled, pleased with his new acquisition's spirit. "Oh, I have no doubt about that, Embril," he said. "For now, you shall stay under my command, but I look forward to the day you attempt to challenge me."

And so, Embril remained in the necromancer's keep, guarding its master's domain, and occasionally serving as a terrifying reminder of the power that lurked within. It kept a watchful eye on the undead henchmen and the necromancer, biding its time, waiting for an opportunity to regain its freedom.

Little did they know that Embril's captivity was merely a temporary chapter in the dragon's long and storied existence. The world outside the necromancer's tower was vast and filled with wonders and dangers alike. Embril's future was uncertain, but one thing was clear - the dragon's fiery spirit could never truly be tamed.