Session 4: The Wyvern
Tizenket – Level 1 Huntress, Female Human
Ulrich – Level 1 Cataphract, Male Human
Karsas – Level 1 Barbarian, Male Human
Eliza – Level 1 Witch, Female Human
Highsun 4, 2522
As the first light of dawn breaks over the expanse of the salt flats, the party takes a final, wary glance at the towering obelisk. Its dark form casts a long shadow across the cracked white ground, and the crimson cape of the skeletal figure atop it continues to flutter faintly in the breeze. The figure has not moved beyond the subtle shifts of the wind, its gaunt silhouette as still as death itself.
The players turn their direction westward, where the salt flats give way to a jagged canyon visible in the distance. Could this be what the leader of the Gharnshyn tribe was trying to guide them toward with his map? The image of the horse, drawn into the sand, lingers in their minds.
The change in scenery is abrupt, the cracked salt ground fades into a labyrinth of jagged stones and rising bluffs. Before them stretches a vast canyon, its towering rock walls streaked with layers of rust-red, ochre, and yellow. The walls loom high above, framing a narrow path that winds downward into the depths below. It isn’t long before the faint sound of running water is heard.
Further into the canyon, near the base of a small, winding river, a group of horses grazes peacefully. They are of all sizes and colors. Some are a sleek chestnut, others a dappled gray, and a few are as dark as midnight. They stay close to the river, their tails swishing as they drink from the stream or wander in small groups across the soft riverbank.
The serene moment shatters with a deafening roar that echoes through the canyon. The party freezes, their heads snapping up to scan the skies. Tizenket and Karsas immediately recognize the unmistakable cry: a wyvern.
The massive, winged beast bursts into view. It descends with terrifying speed, talons outstretched, and snatches one of the unsuspecting horses as a child would a toy. The horse’s panicked whinny echoes through the canyon as the wyvern’s powerful wings beat furiously, carrying it back into the air. The party watches as the wyvern perches on a rocky bluff high above, the horse dangling lifelessly in its claws. Without hesitation, the beast begins to tear into its prey. Blood drips from the bluff, staining the rocks in gruesome streaks.
The remaining horses scatter in terror, some bolting deeper into the canyon while others take off into a nearby plain. The wyvern, its leathery wings partially folded, continues its feast, oblivious to, or unconcerned with, the party watching from below.
The party moves with extreme caution. Their quiet, deliberate steps descend deeper into the canyon. Each sound—a loose pebble skittering down the path, the creak of armor, or the soft clink of a weapon—feels amplified against the stillness. Ulrich takes particular care, guiding his horse with a firm yet gentle hand.
The wyvern is entirely engrossed in it’s meal, tearing into flesh and snapping bones with ferocious intensity.
Using the rocks and uneven terrain for cover, the party stealthily weaves their way into the canyon. Thankfully, the wyvern never notices them. They are able to make their way down the canyon and out of sight.
As the canyon opened into a vast plain, the party spotted the scattered herd of horses grazing in the distance. The animals, still skittish from the earlier wyvern attack, stood in loose clusters, their ears twitching and heads lifting occasionally to scan the horizon for danger. Eliza and Ulrich kept vigilant watch, eyes scanning the rocky ridges for any sign of the wyvern’s return. Tizenket and Karsas crept forward with ropes in hand. The huntress and the barbarian relied on their shared understanding of animals to work together to capture a couple horses. With careful coordination, they managed to rope two of the horses—a sleek, chestnut mare and a sturdy, mottled gray stallion. The animals reared and protested at first, their wild instincts resisting capture, but Tizenket and Karsas worked tirelessly to calm them.
The party spent the rest of the day in the plain, setting up camp and focusing on taming their new mounts. By nightfall, the horses were no longer pulling away from their touch.
As the stars blanketed the sky, the party rested, their campfire crackling softly in the cool desert air. They made plans to return to the salt flats the next morning and then head north, toward the village the Gharnshyn leader had indicated on his sand-drawn map. Their new horses would make the journey faster and, they hoped, safer.
