Knights of the Platinum Dragon: A D&D Story

Chapter 11: The Adventure Begins

As the world outside the Cockatrice Inn began to grow brighter and brighter from the rising of the sun, Logan planted his feet at the top of the ladder and lifted the end of another plank into position at one end of the hole that had been blown in the doorway. On the other side, one of the other patrons – a wood elf carpenter – held the opposing end of the long slab of wood from his own ladder, and then, as Stalk passed each of them some nails, they began to hammer their handiwork into position with mallets they had found in storage, just as they'd found the ladders.

The chill of the early dawn clung to Logan's face like dew as he worked, while behind him he could feel the heat from the inn's kitchens battling to keep the cold from sweeping into the building and causing everyone to shiver and huddle down in their clothes. The smell of fresh-baked bread and the sound of sizzling meats also wafted from the far side of the room, with Logan's stomach audibly gurgling in response.

Elsa had been forced to leave the fire burning overnight to keep some warmth in her establishment, and even then, with one wall almost completely destroyed, come the morn the entire building was cold as an ice-giant's heart. So before breakfast, Logan and Stalk, along with a few others, were doing what they could to repair the entrance – the hole was now half-covered, with Stalk helping a few others prepare a frame for the door and get it into position

As he finished smashing the nails into place, Logan climbed two rungs down the ladder and peered outdoors, watching for any more gnolls and for the men who were bringing the spare wooden boards up from storage down by the docks, his calloused fingers tightening in anticipation around both the ladder and the large wooden mallet in his right hand.

Outdoors, beneath a dark orange sky, he saw the trees swaying lazily, the collapsed remnants of the great pyre and the graves laid silently in their rows, undisturbed and undefiled by ghouls or somesuch. Beyond that, nothing moved save for the occasional swift shooting by, fast as an arrow in flight.

"See anything, Sir Logan?" he heard Stalk's voice ask from below him.

"Aside from a few birds, nothing." Logan replied.

As he heard that, Stalk's beak clacked and his throat let loose a mocking snicker. "Guess we really showed them who's boss, huh?"

"I suppose so..." Logan said warily, still refusing to take his eyes from his brief watch over the landscape. Paladins were meant to fear nothing, but he still couldn't shake the nerves that if he looked away for even a few seconds, more gnolls would show up and spring another ambush like the one they did yesterday...

However, as he heard a heavy, metallic thudding behind him and the whirring of ocular lenses refocusing, he exhaled through his nose and had no choice but to spare a small bit of his attention as a robotic voice made itself heard:

"What are you doing?"

"Repairing the doorway." Logan snapped back.

There was a brief silence before Technus replied. "You all dishonour this creation of Erathis with these crude modifications."

Anger flared inside Logan then, and he fixed him with a firm, unyielding stare – he was stressed enough without having to deal with this on top of everything. "If you think you could do it better, Tech-Cleric, you're more than welcome to come and join us," he said as his golden eyes glinted like the sharpened blades of two daggers.

Technus returned his gaze, telescopic eye clicking like an irritating beetle as he did so. "There is no 'think' about it, paladin. I am a priest of She who gave us the means to craft, to build and to thrive." As he droned in his monotone, crackling manner of speech, he lifted his gaze and examined their work closely. Even though the planks of wood were laid out in neat horizontal rows and fixed securely in place, there was a burst of static as Technus seemed to snort. "I could perform better than you and these other organics with ease."