A dragon. We killed a dragon.
Against the expectations of all reasonable folk, we killed Venomfang.
We, together, have achieved a feat that few can claim to have matched. Each of us have shown something special today – My arrows struck deep, and truer than ever before. Bruenor seems at home in clouds of poison. Bears can jump really well. Noah’s luck, while highly questionable for everything else, is good enough to keep him alive. Daar’s sorcerous dragonborn magic holds a lot of power. And Droop was perhaps the most surprising of all, in a tenday going from being kicked and imprisoned to having the courage to (mostly) stand with us and put an arrow in a dragon.
This motley crew is no army of elves, but an army of elves may not have done as well as we.
A dragon. A dragon is rare. A dead one rarer. Surely the scales have value; as sturdy as plate mail, yet so light. Perhaps there is more to be had? It is not likely anyone will come here in the next few days. Linene may have the knowledge and means to gather other useful parts… the Lionsheilds could stand much to gain.
For my own purposes, I know of bowyers crafting out of a mix of woods and sinew, constructing a bow with limbs of near-magical strength. Great strength may be needed, but perhaps there can be lessons applied from the mechanical approach of crossbows, which can be made of metal and unbendable by direct means. A dragon sinew, a core of elven wood, and a facing of the finest elven steel…