The scene of wonder overwhelming, breath snatched from lungs as the atmosphere rushed out from the old fiend’s lair and enveloped the druid.
Heat and stench and golden light emanated from the wyrm, forever seared into Embor’s eternal essence.

Embor withers in the presence of such power and newly realized place in life, that of insignificance and hopelessness.
A tear streaks across a blood spattered check.

A motion, a blur, from behind Smaug brakes the unnatural feeling of despair as a shadow rises from the lair’s floor.A dark and evil thing, twisted by wicked arcane magics. 

The sorcerer and druid’s eyes meet and Embor is faced with a choice; flee now while there is still time to do so before the alarm is risen and Smaug awakes or, being faced with such obvious mortal peril, to make a knowingly juvenile and futile gesture of impudence!

Embor exercises offense over sense.

The air above the high vaulted chamber cracks and splits as a brilliant yellow-white bolt of energy strikes the sorcerer fully.
Its thunderous shock wave practically blowing Embor out from the observation point of melted wall.

The dragons, shaken from their slumber arise…unscathed.

Smaug rushes forward chocking the breach with his enormity. His eyes dazed and crazed with rage dart about trying to gain traction on something solid, they catch upon the intruding human and narrow in fury.

Embor’s world is a now a dragon of ancient myth…and it curses the intruder.

‘Thief in the Shadows!
My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath DEATH!‘

The words strike the druid as deep as any claw, a severe graze begins to bleed.

Now heavily bloodied the druid’s panicked thoughts are on escape, IF that is even possible now.
There is a mad commotion behind Smaug as the sorcerer and young gold dragon frantically attempt to attack Embor but are blocked by the bulk that is Smaug.
A glint, reflected from a small mound of metal upon the floor, catches Embor’s eye, a tantalizing glimpse of Chain Mail Armor ‘[‘
Was this the true prize the druid had risked life for?

But there is no time for such thoughts and unable to reach the armor Embor produces a scroll and reads aloud the words to enact a risky escape, a blind leap into the void of chance but certainly no worse than the druid’s current predicament.

As the scrolls magic began to unfold, there came a parting shot from Embor directed to the terrible wyrm, a final act of insolence.

‘Well, I really must not detain Your Magnificence any longer, or keep you from much needed rest but a fine burglar takes expert catching. Huh ha!‘

Embor blinks out of Smaug’s existence.

Burglar?

BURGLAR!!!

---

A dank, moldering corridor.

 A distant and echoing draconic roar drifts through unknown lengths of the dungeon.

Embor’s incredible luck had won the day.

The ‘Scroll of Teleportation‘ had deposited the druid safely in a neighboring, unoccupied section of dungeon.

Embor casts ‘Detect Life‘.A nearby tribe of Orcs and Snagas ‘o‘ lead by ‘Shagrat, the Orc Captain‘ sleep, a pack of Air Hounds ‘Z‘ lie becalmed, an Ocher Jelly ‘j‘ glistens in wait.

None have detected the arrival of the druid.

Fearing the dragon may be prowling the corridors in search of the druid thief, Embor quickly rests to heal the wound received and without delay unfurls one last scroll.

No sense in taking any MORE risks this day, best to leave while there’s still the chance to do so.
Embor reads the scroll and in few moments blinks once again from sight and away from the dungeon and its omens of death.

---

Safely returned to town mostly empty handed save for a couple of scrolls, but, alive to tell the tale.
The sun shines upon Embor today and that is worth more than all the treasures of all the dragons of all the worlds.

The dungeon of Angband is deep and now, thanks to a great deal of luck, there is a tomorrow to delve to even greater depths. Maybe even a return visit to Smaug’s lair…time will tell.

Angband abides.

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