A dragon! A Red Dragon! Not some panty-waist Wyvern or a baby black, but what seemed to be, from all indications, a REAL LIVE ADULT RED DRAGON! And that stupid Cavalier wanted us to go in and kill the thing! Dania: "Are you out of your fucking mind?" Rourk: "Your insinuations are insulting to one of my stature. One need only think of the glory that could be won from the defeat of such a beast to realize our only course of action." Dania: "YOUR only course of action! Hell, I'M not going in there!" Razuli: "Arlor, are you sure it saw you?" Arlor: "Did my best not to let it. Might have." Kortul: "Came here for reputation. Get it, or die. Plan?" Rourk: "Exactly, barbarian. You have a keen grasp of the obvious and proven facts. Dragons as large as this sleep hard, and are easily surprised in their lairs." Razuli: "Oh, my! Are you suggesting that we actually SNEAK UP ON IT? Not give it a fair, fighting chance?" Rourk: "I propose only the time-honored strategy. One so uneducated as yourself would naturally see this in the incorrect manner. As I realize your obvious limitations, you can be forgiven, for now." Razuli: "Rourk, you've come to your senses. Sooner or later, I knew you'd realize that I'm always right. It just took time, that's all. The thickest *ahem!* helmets are always the hardest." Dania: "You are all forgetting something. *WE CAN'T DO IT.*" Razuli: "Think of all the treasure it will have." Dania: "Well... we can't do it. It'll slaughter us." Navero: "If it isn't killed, what will it do?" Rourk: "That is plain and obvious. Orcs are naturally slovenly, and would not have constructed the barrier and maintained the poison unless it had some means of getting across the lava pit." Dania: "Like, maybe, swimming the backstroke. How much money do Reds usually have, anyway?" Razuli: "Enough to keep us happy for, oh, say, several years?" Dania: "I could buy a castle. A small one, wouldn't have to be much..." Navero: "Red Dragons are greedy and evil, aren't they?" Kortul: "The worst." Navero: "It would probably come out and ravage the countryside, and do a lot of harm, unless someone is there to maintain the barrier and keep the dragon from destroying it and escaping." Rourk: "I have no desire to remain as permanent guard, and the citizens of the town are obviously too cowardly to do so themselves. There is only one thing to do, and that is to kill it." Razuli: "Right! For morality's sake!" We returned to town, and borrowed the money we would need at the moneychangers. The sum was not great, although the 'changer charged some hefty interest. Then, we all got training to go up a level; the time we spent would hopefully give the dragon a chance to go back to sleep, assuming it did not see Arlor. So now, the party is: Navero, male human cleric, 3rd level Dania, female 1/2-elf MU, 3rd level Rourk Ravensbane, male drow cavalier, 3rd level Kortul, male human fighter, 2nd level Razuli, male human fighter, 2nd level Arlor, male dwarf thief, 2nd level (Fortunately, this is 1st edition AD&D, before the dragons became Dragons, i.e. got nasty. We wouldn't even CONSIDER doing this now. Not with a party like this. The 2nd edition has improved some things.) We trained hard. Practiced all our skills. Insisted that Rourk teach everyone some Drow Silent-Speech. Got fire-resistant backpacks. The works. Dania's master was not pleased with her sudden interest in fire resistance spells, seeing that she had not completed the task he had already given her. She promised him that in just a little while, she would be able to get him with something even better than expected, so he decided to wait and see. He did not take the opportunity to read her mind, as he had done earlier; perhaps he liked surprises. Finally, the day arrived when we felt more preparation wouldn't do us the slightest bit of good. We rode to the cave at dawn, tethered our horses, and walked quietly into the entrance hall. We ran rags and threads and bits of leather strapping through our armor, so it would not make as much noise. We tied soft soles to Rourk's metal boots; everyone else's were soft enough to be quiet. Then, we went to the Shimmer Mold cave, and coated all of our armor and equipment, first liberally with the glowing liquid, then with soot to kill the shining. Everyone wore scarves over their faces, so they wouldn't be exposed. All of this was done in complete silence; no arguments broke out, no one even spoke. Even the use of silent-speech was minimal. For the first time, the party acted with complete unity of purpose. We then practically emptied the pool of mold juice into waterproof sacks, and carried it to the lava pit. Arlor and Dania, the quietest and lightest people, carefully made a strong bridge along the wall to the other entrance, wide enough and thick enough to hold all of us, but not enough (hopefully) to support a dragons bulk. The rest of us joined them, and we all went in. Arlor spotted a thin wire stretched across the entrance, and cut it; it led to a precariously balanced pile of old armor, tucked into a hidden alcove. The floor beyond had been coated with some slippery goo; we covered it over with more of the soot we had brought, careful not to raise a choking cloud of it. Navero cast Resist Fire on everyone. We went down a wide passage about 20 feet, which then opened into a cave about 80 feet across. The rock formations were more numerous, but were ground down and rough. Far away, at the western end, was a pile of more coinage than most of us had ever before seen in one place. Gems and jewels, and more valuable things, glinted in the dim light the lava made. And, most important, there was the focus of all our thoughts. It wasn't a deep red, as one would have imagined, but a bright scarlet; and somehow seemed small in the quiet immensity of the cave. It was larger than it's pile of treasure, though; and that made all the difference. Its eyes were closed. Its breathing was very slow; maybe once a minute. Its great wings lay flat, rustling with it's breath. It looked deadly, even in repose. Thick dagger of a body, long graceful neck, an adze-shaped head angling down to thin jaws that could crush any of us instantly. It's claws were straight, not curved sickles, tapering to small graceful points so sharp they seemed impossible in something so large. Its essence was glory and destruction, sheer power as an end to itself. It reeked of the death it held inside. The columns of living rock outlined the golden alter on which it lay. We came forward for the ceremony in silence. It opened its eyes. Daniel Parsons