The door to the room slams open, startling me and causing the spell I’m focusing on to fizzle. I turn to see Spesof standing there rather worse for wear. I ask what happened and he explains that Tittlin and him had a difficult fight with some roper’s and a dozen umber hulks before they encountered some Duergar. I furrow my brow at this, knowing that there’s often trouble when dealing with them. Spesof explains that they were apparently hunting a small purple dragon and might know something about the Wind-Up Merchant and that my skills with dragons and necromancy might be of use. I ask some further questions, but Spesof doesn’t know anything else about either the dragon they’re hunting or the ”Jurge” character who’s leading the Duergar. Whoever they are, they don’t sound like a dwarf, or anything else for that matter. Worried as I am, I agree to come along and see what is going on.
We return to the cave, with me riding upon Ignis and come across the Duergar hunting party. We make introductions and I politely chuckle at the same bell joke I’ve heard a hundred times before. After a brief discussion, they take us to visit the Duergar town of Jurgetown. That name does not inspire confidence in me, as there are few well adjusted people who stick their names on things so blatantly. The cause of the ego is made readily apparent by the giant golden dragon statue labelled “Jurge, Lord of the Underground”. I’m able to determine that Jurge is close to full maturity, assuming the statue isn’t embellishing, but that’s about all I can determine as I’ve never seen a dragon of his species before.
We’re given some time before Jurge will see us and so we decide to explore the town. After speaking to the barkeep, shopkeeps and drinking the strongest cheap liquor I’ve had in a long time, the picture becomes fairly clear. The wind-up merchant has been seen, but there’s very little chance of us getting it back. The people are thoroughly devoted to Jurge, who for his part appears to be greedy enough to rival the Wrym of Avarice himself, having claimed all the gold in the world as his own. Unluckily for us, it appears Jurge has already found our treasure.
We return to the town square for our audience with Jurge, who appears flying down from above. He’s as big, if not bigger, than the statue and there’s no hesitation about following the others in bowing. Jurge is as demanding as he is huge, immediately demanding why his hunters haven’t brought him the purple dragon yet. They hesitate and explain that they’ve found an expert to help in the hunt. I start sweating as Jurge’s focus is redirected to me. He starts interrogating me, asking what I know about purple dragons and how to hunt them. Realizing that another dragon would clearly know the difference between a purple coloured gem dragon and an actual purple dragon, I answer the best I can, racking my brain for everything I know about this extraordinarily rare sub species. It seems to be enough to satisfy him and the wind-up merchant appears to be insignificant enough that he’s willing to part with it for my help.
At this moment, there’s a call of “Death to tyrants!” and a small glowing sphere is hurled onto the dais beside us. As soon as I recognize the delayed fireball, I dispel it, having no desire to end my life caught up in the crossfire of revolution. As the spell fizzles, Jurge smiles and stomps the ground, a column of stone flinging the would be revolutionary down his gullet without a single bite. I gulp in nervousness at the sight.
We agree to Jurge’s terms, me more out of fear of backing out than anything else, and start heading our way back out of Jurgetown.