“How about ‘Heroes of the Arena’, since we met in an arena?”
“No, I prefer ‘Heroes of Absalom’, it has a better ring.”
“Every other adventurer calls themselves Hero of Absalom. Genden Frostmantle keeps a ‘Top Ten Heroes of Absalom’.”
“Well then how about ’Champions of Absalom?”
“Just as bad, it’s not the hero or champion bit, it’s the Absalom bit. We’re not all from around here.”
“Legion of Absalom?”
“Legion of the Sun would do better”
“I’ve got it! “Legion of Sunny Absalom”
“We are not anything of Absalom”
“Legion of a Thousand Suns would make more sense than Legion of Sunny Absalom”
“Hey, Legion of a Thousand Suns!”
“I like it.”
“…..I still like Legion of Sunny Absalom”
The discussion was interrupted when Kasadei Goldlight called out to them, and introduced them to her friend Alshar Summerbrooke. Between questions from the red-headed paladin, Alshar informed them that there was a young dragon in the nearby swamp. He hardly had a chance to mention it might have treasure, before Rand was out the door. After shoving Aira onto the floor, the cleric soon followed. Rand had just got a magic bow, and he was eager to test it against the hated creature.
After a run in with a frog-like creature, and a short mud fight (mostly between the Paladin and the Cleric), Rand finally found a trace of the dragon. Claw marks in trees, and black scales lead him a little ways, till anyone could have their way from the stench. Animals decomposing in a pool marked the beasts eating placing, and a quick look around brought the cave by the pond to light. The stronger characters trudged forward through the water, carrying their shorter companion, and dragging the other, sickened from the stench.
Inside the cave, resting, was the tiny creature, unaware of his fate. A powerful dragon he may have once become if not for this party, but four people had the advantage, and the acid dripping from his chin was blocked by a giant shield. A magic arrow struck true, and he knew his doom had come. The unnatural white beast snapped at him, a small man, only a little bigger than him, attacked every opening the beast left, and the paladin struck true with her weapon. He never had a chance, and, while trying to run, they finished him off. Never a great beast would he be, no towns would be terrorized by his growl, no great destiny would he ever meet. He’s horns taken as a trophy, and the prized gems hauled away, the tiny terror of the swamp was no more.