The Gifts of the Silver Dragon

Sir Mercurion greeted Commander Horngaard, his words slipping silently into the mind of the knight. “Your coming is unlooked for, but welcome. It has been a prodacted, meanderling road, but here it ends- at the very doorstep of Castle Ravenloft.”

He dismounted, and produced a small stained cask, spattered with clotted filth. Strangely, it did not reek; though pungent, the smell was heady and carried with it an almost unnatural heat. .

“Dragon’s blood. My prize for ridding the world of the vile wyrm.”

He uncorked and upended the cask, spilling lines of crimson blood across his helm, breastplate and pauldrons- his movements guided by a will that was not the paladin’s own.

“I wish for your master and my ally, the fallen Argynvost, to share in the battle here. The blood of one slain dragon shall enpower another.”

“Invest yourself in my hallowed armor, dead-yet-noble Argynvost, and bear witness to the fall of the devil, Strahd von Zarovitch.”

The wind changed, and a moon shadow swooped and stretched over the gathering.

Mercurion remounted upon Sir Bottom. “Let us be the righteous blades of avengeance, let us be the shield that protects all Barovia from the vampire’s foul whims- let Her will be done...”