D&D Way to Sword Coast

Epilogue

The grey squirrel sat atop his perch near the center of Thundertree, watching the events as they unfurled. The first group of adventurers had ignored his warning and went about ransacking the ruins with little care. They might've been able to fight off the cultists if the undead, giant spiders, and twig blights hadn't worn them down.

For the most part, he'd kept his distance from the monsters and avoided the cultists entirely. The grey squirrel had been content to sit and observe as he had been instructed. After all, it wasn't every day a young green dragon settled so close to a major city.

Then the second group had shown up. They were much more cautious, engaging the undead only when necessary. Their caution hadn't antagonized the blights and so they remained unmolested. He would've warned them about the cultist but the Dragonborn seemed competent, so gray squirrel allowed events to unfold.

He was supposed to be keeping tabs on the dragon, but thus far the 'great green one' had been content to hide away in his improvised lair. The cultists had attempted to appeal to the dragon by offering the first group up as a sacrifice. The memory of the screams still sent a chill down his spine. It seemed they had intended to do the same with the second group.

That was when all hell broke loose. The half-elf and Tiefling had escaped the tower closely followed by Favric. Suddenly the dragon was flying with the Dragonborn clinging to its back. The gray squirrel would've enjoyed watching the spectacle when next he knew his front door was being busted down.

The moment the door burst inward the tiny gray squirrel ducked out of the structure. He paused long enough to watch the Tiefling flee into the village and the half-elf beat Favric to death with a section of the door. The scene had been so slap-stick he laughed. Or he would've if it hadn't turned his stomach.

By the time he got to the weaver's cottage, the warrior was going toe-to-toe with the green dragon. Gray squirrel watched in awe as the Dragonborn came from the brink of defeat to burning the dragon Venomfang from the inside out. He also got to witness the Tiefling's magic missile attack. Grey squirrel practically tittered with excitement.

"Who knew a boring stakeout mission could be so...amazing...astounding? No, that wasn't the word," he thought, utilizing his tiny rodent brain to contemplate the proper terminology. "Oh, where was a bard when you needed one!?" Grey needed to know the right descriptive term when he met his contact.

Squirrel waited until sunset before scampering away from the village. Despite looking like quite the morsel, none of his natural predators dared approach. The brawl within the village had scared them off a considerable distance.

Reaching the appointed location, grey squirrel bounded into the clearing. Sitting up on his hind leg, his dark eyes peered about, piercing the growing gloom. Tail twitching, he decided all was safe.

A muttered incantation, a flash of light later, and where the grey squirrel had sat now stood a gaunt, white-haired human bedecked in green and brown robes. A stag's head crest stood out on his chest. Flexing his back, Reidoth felt it pop several times. The transformation always made him feel his age. At least as an animal he was a bit spryer.

"I prefer you with the tail," a female voice called out. From the shadows, a woman wearing grey ranger garb stepped out. The sigil of a harp cradled by a crescent moon adorned her shoulder. "I overheard the commotion," she said jerking her chin in the general direction of the village.

'Commotion' was a polite way of putting it. More like ruined his piece and quiet. The Emerald Enclave was all about preserving the natural order. Like it or not, dragons were a part of that order, but when one settles so close to the city the Enclave's benefactors got nervous. Reidoth had been the balm for their anxiety.

"Venomfang is no longer concern." Reidoth gave a quick rundown of events. As befitting a member of the Harpers, the woman took the intel in stride with barely a flinch. While the goals of the two groups weren't identical, they did their best to share information.

"The cultists are getting bolder if they're recruiting this close to the city," The woman said rubbering her chin, "The dragon was defeated by a single warrior?"

"A copper-plated adventurer, yes," Reidoth recalled the Dragonborn easily. Physical abilities aside, his strength of will had been...extraordinary. He could make either a staunch ally or a powerful enemy. The Dragon cult wasn't above enlisting rogue Dragonborn to their cause. The woman agreed with the assessment.

"I'll pass it up the chain," she said starting to step back into the shadows. Reidoth also began to leave. Before either of them could disappear entirely she added, "what was the name?"

"I never heard," he responded a little annoyed, "Should be in the Guild registry." Reidoth was just starting the anamorphic spell when the spy interrupted him.

"Not the Dragonborn. The Tiefling."

The old man paused, confused about the sudden interest. Reidoth scanned his memories. He recalled hearing the half-elf and Dragonborn calling out to her several times. Other then her latent magical abilities, he hadn't considered much about her. "Yulia," he answered. Turning the druid intended to ask about the inquiry. All that greeted him was the silence of the night.