TOPIC: Tomb Of Annihilation- discussion thread

Tomb of Annihilation – Journal of Jayne Lockwood

It has been three weeks now since my wicked and treacherous Uncle Jaspar ejected me from my father’s house. The youngest of two brothers and most certainly the runt of the litter, Jealous Jaspar has always been envious of my father’s many successes.

Thirteen months ago, father left the city on an expedition to the southern continent of Chult. He was so excited about hanging the head of a thunder lizard on the wall of his trophy room! Ten months ago, he stopped sending letters home and five months after that his own brother had him declared dead by the lords of Waterdeep and seized his assets, including the home where I have lived since before I could draw a bowstring. I was out on the street before the ink was dry on the new deed. Dear Uncle Jaspar always saw father’s “dalliance” with my elven mother as a stain on the Lockwood name and never made secret his distaste for his half-breed niece.

A less practical woman may have dismayed at such an abrupt and absolute change in her fortunes, but I was in no doubt as to my next course of action. Uncle Jaspar’s claim was anchored to the assertion that his brother was dead. I would just have to travel to Chult myself and prove otherwise.

Unfortunately, my uncle’s machinations had left my purse a little light and I would need gold to buy passage to the southern continent. I remembered that father had made several generous donations to the Waterdeep Adventurers Guild over the years and hoped they might be willing to aid the daughter of their benefactor.

I was in luck! A sorceress called Silva Sindrane was putting together a team to travel to Chult and investigate what she described as a ‘death curse’, by which she herself was most gravely afflicted. As I understand it, the sickness targets those who have been returned to life, by the will of either wizards of priests. Through divination, Mistress Sindrane has discovered the curse is the product of an evil artefact called the Soulforge, located somewhere in the vast, unmapped jungles of the southern continent. Gods willing, I may find my father and save Mistress Sindrane from the death curse at the same time!

To test the mettle of those she would be entrusting with her soul, Mistress Sindrane had dispatched her heroes to an abandoned farmstead outside the city. They were equipped with enchanted silver daggers with which to harvest a particularly unpleasant mushroom that would slow the advance of her sickness. I caught up with the group as they were leaving the ruin. It seemed Mistress Sindrane had hired a small army; a half dozen weary adventurers emerged from the old farmhouse with their fungal haul.

The first was Robin, a disreputable looking wood elf dressed entirely in red silk. Beside him stood Bing, a muscle bound brute with fists like boulders. Then there was Ding Dong the halfling monk, who was as tiny as Bing was huge. Lurking at the back of the group was a platinum haired druid called Elias, muttering bitterly about his low HP and how everything would be better once he could wild-shape. Finally, there were the two spellcasters; Tamarin the wizard and Tashan the warlock.

Our first meeting was rudely interrupted as a band of demonic pig monsters swarmed out of the overgrown fields! The silver-haired druid was immediately slain! I rushed to provide aid, but Tamarin bade me halt, reassuring me that poor Elias had made more death saves than he’d had wizard dinners and the druid would be fine.

The demons were routed and we returned to Waterdeep with all haste. Convinced that our fledgling fellowship was borderline competent, Mistress Sindrane bought the rest of the heroes into her confidence and prepared to teleport us all to Chult. At last, I was on my way to finding my father!

TBC

The Spellweavers tale – Musings of Amoraz the Mage

Addendum (day 1)
Exiting the mansion the gypsies were noted to have been slain. Torn apart by talon and claw. The creatures assaulting us appeared to be otherworldly, pig like creatures with claws and ferocious intent. Weary as we were, only the arrival of our tardy comrades in arms, the warlock and the ranger ensured our survival, but not without several of the group laid low by the creatures.

The Warlock appears to be a user of infusion magics, magical energy channelled as if by a cleric, but from an otherworldly patron. Such perversion of the weave is a betrayal. Study, control and precision are the hallmarks of those who manipulate true magic. This charlatan witch bears watching even as I note the obvious efficacy of its powers.

The ranger is far less complex. An elf, and typical of his type. Excellent with a bow, and even handed.

The monk surprised me, though I suspect I should not have been, his small contributions were as efficient as they were effective.

The barbarian and the rogue appear confused as to the nature of their roles. The rogue seems competent only to break his tools… the barbarian appears to want to use his Axe as a missile weapon. Both survived but for how long?

We are in desperate need of divine healing, either that or there will be a need to expend resources on items of healing.

The return trip was mercifully free of events.

Waterdeep (Day 2)
A nights rest and a meal has provided a moment of reflection, and, despite the hardships of the last day, has vouchsafed an increase in my personal power.

I feel the weave more strongly, its nuances start to make more sense, and, more importantly, I have no finished the two spells I have been researching have now. I know I am right, the words burn in my mind. I know they work.

I reached out into the either and Sylph responded. I moulded the being into a form of my design. The control needed is significant, but the results are spectacular. I can ‘see’ through her eyes, I can communicate with her over distance, I can direct her movements, and more? We shall see.

We break fast, and are summonsed by the lady… Silva Sindrane, (the rogue checks the scroll this time!). Her residence is impressive. She is obviously a wizard of some power. We arrive and move through her modest house into an alternate reality. Some form of magical translocation into an extra dimensional space.

Her servant appears to be undead, though one completely in thrall to its master, and intelligent?

Note to self: (1) research dimensional space and colocation of objects within that space. (2) review undead – creation of.

Ms Sindrane is a woman suffering a curse. The death plague. Apparently it affects all those who were formerly dead and returned back to life by either arcane or divine means. Such people are dying by slow measure. Decaying whilst still clinging to life. Ms Sindrane seeks a cure, and is prepared to pay handsomely. An item of magic from her personal hoard if we can detect and stop the disease.

We are told that we must find the Soulforge, an evil artefact that is responsible for the curse. We are to destroy it and be rewarded.

Sindrane advises that the item is in Chult, a lawless place of jungles and death. Huge creatures called dinosaurs roam the jungles and prey upon the hordes of undead and living alike. She advises caution. She also advises that other (more powerful) groups she has commissioned have not returned. I surmised that those individuals may have been previously raised in the course of their experiences, and may be afflicted by the curse… she concurred.

The deal was stuck. She will provide us with a some of gold 200gp to outfit for the jungles, as well as the providing us with the payment for mission recently undertaken.

I prevailed upon her to provide some minor spells for transcription.

The lady will accompany us but will not direct our efforts. She provided me with a communication rod should it be necessary, but made it clear she can offer no direct aid. She also made it clear that we are to act with caution. More difficult for some than others.

She has provided maps, and some background on Chult. I have spent time reading and understanding as much of the lore on undead as possible. If we are to face them, forewarned is forearmed. As I read these tomes, they help me make sense of another spell. One with offensive potential, and possibly useful against these giant lizards.

We are gathered. The enchanted pentagram sparkles with energy, it is interesting to note the changes in the weave as Sindrane chants, manipulating the weave to her desires. My magical sight sees the very fabric of space warp and fold, with a slight pop, we stand in the market square in the heat of the evening. The hot humid air cloying and grasping, making breathing difficult. The air smells of the potential for disease.

Sindrane advised we seek shelter. She provided two possible taverns/hostels. She advised that a cleric would join use shortly. She provided no other intelligence or advice, seemingly content to let us make our own fate.

We find an inn and take rooms. The Ranger generously paid for the groups’ lodgings.

Note to self: We need a plan. We need a place to stay. We need intelligence on the local area, and to do research on this Soulforge.

“Arp”

“Arp”

“Arp, arp”

“Ar…….p”

The conversation between the travellers was scintillating, suitably bored Dave hopped around to the rear of the house. There, sat at the back he saw a small bald headed man, with a pad and some sort of box, with lots of buttons and a very bright lid.

Who are you? Thought Dave

“I’m the chronicler” the man said.

“What! How? I ne…” stumbled Dave cut off in mid mumble

“never said a word” Chuckled the man, enjoying Dave’s bemusement. “You don’t have to, I can hear your thoughts, as if you were talking to narrator” as he carried on clacking the buttons on his box.

“You know narrator?”

“We all have a narrator, it wouldn’t work without them would it?”

“What wouldn’t…” Dave felt one of his headaches coming on again.

“Storytelling, silly crow.”

Dave thought about this and then thought “bugger this I’m off” and hopped back round the front of the house. Leaving the bald man to the rhythmic clicks of button pressing and the occasional talking to his box “No I don’t need any help Clippy. Clippy I said no. Now what have you done that for?”

Back at the front of the house.

“Arp!”

“Arpy, arp, arp”

Just in the corner of Dave’s eye he saw movement.

“Watch out!!” shouted Dave.

“SQWARK” the travellers heard, all their attention now focused on the crow, making them oblivious of the impending attack.

Dave witnessed small demons, devils or whatever you want to call them. Some in the shape of small thin humans, and another type that looked a bit like cartoon pigs.

The fight was brief, gory and very one-sided. Dave stood still, covered in blood and entrails from the travellers. Whilst Dave was partial to a bit of entrails, he like most aware creatures did not need to know where it came from. “Where does milk come from?” “Sainsbury’s” is the reply. Dave was not happy, very disturbed and covered in traveller and now very much on his own with these mini devil’s, “Bugger this” thought Dave and hopped back round to the back of the house.

“Enjoy that did you?” before Dave could reply “It looks like you got your dinner all over you”

“Listen here, Chronicler, I did not enjoy watching those two travellers being eviscerated in a matter of seconds”

“They were members of a faction, did you know that”

“Which one? The Order of the Gauntlet, no wouldn’t be them was it The Zhentarim, yeah I bet it was them” said Dave relieved to be talking about something else.

“No it was the ‘Arp ‘ers, Ba da boom, Tish, I’ll be here all week” Now Dave was filling up with anger, where was bloody Narr, he was good at this kind of crap.

“Sorry Dave, your on your own” said Narr’s disembodied voice.

“Right, Mr Dave “The Crow”, I am the “Chronicler” and this is my story to tell, not yours. You belong in that other realm. With the other GM, and your beloved Issy, Jebado and cohort, with them being shown a D20 for cracking a gag”

“But I was brought into this realm, by Narr and the omnisms” (Dave felt sure that omnisms was a word, and if it wasn’t then it is now) “of GM’s”

“No, this is my story to tell of the Ding Dong posse”

“In the well” said Dave

“What?”

“In the well” Sniggered Dave, realising he had just got one back.

“Oh very droll, Ding is his name and Dong is his Clan.”

“Clan” Said Dave enquiringly

“Yeah, Monks have Clan’s. You know like the Wu Tang Clan, etcetera and etcetera”

“Being, watching the “King and I” have we?”

“No” Snapped the Chronicler “So Ding’s clan, “The Dong’s”” Dave snickered “There is Ding, Long, Stubby and Chubby” This was too much for Dave, still covered in goop he howled with laughter.

“Long Dong!! Whew, Stubby…..”

“Yes we get the idea!!” Said the Chronicler irked at Dave’s laughter.

“And you are ……….” Dave tried to hold it together “a chronicler of Dong’s, Whew hew, hahahhaha!

“Well Mr Bloody Crow, you can get back to your own story, Oh but you can’t, because that GM isn’t running your world and hasn’t for over a year!! So you’re in limbo” Dave’s heart sank at the thought of never seeing Issy, Jebado…….. again”

“Possibly Rotation three next year” Whispered Narr, with that Dave cheered right up.

“Well I’m here now so I suppose I’d better do my stuff then! “said Dave and perched on a water butt to clean himself off.

“How much do you know, Dave” The “Dave” was pronounced really sarcastically. Tell me the names of this group of…..”

“Dong’s” said Dave unable to help himself.

“…….and what they are doing at this moment in time, if you can’t then you can sod off back to your own story.”

“Well there is Tamrain, and Elias, er…………. Ding of course,……….erm……..Bing?”

“Are you asking or telling me?” asked the Chronicler.

“Tell…ing” said Dave slowly

“Carry on”

“and Robyn. They are………..” Dave strained to hear inside the house, a then heard a dull thud from below.

“in the basement have a dust up with some horrible creature.” Said Dave with enough experience to know that is how things go.

“Lucky guess, but what about the other two?”

“What other two?” Dave cast his mind back, One, many, many many, many many many, and many many many many.
Yup there were many of them.
Then out of the cellar climbed many many many many many many.

It was all the people Dave saw last week and with them was a Warlock with a purple weapon, that Dave was pretty sure he’d only ever seen a weapon like this once before at the Seamstresses guild house of ill repute, and then he hadn’t seen all of it because…. it was being ridden by a seamstress. Last was a new woman who looked like Ranger. “Where the buck did they come from?” Yet bold as brass they were talking like they had been there all along.

Dave suddenly twigged, something like this had happened before, it was GM, they could do make time go backwards and insert or indeed remove people. Dave shuddered.

“The Ranger is Jayne, and the Warlock is Tashan, your welcome, amateur”

Dave attention was caught by Elias, whose name now seemed to be Ground Zero.

“I only have one HP, its not fair” said Elias

“What’s not fair is you hogging the lime light” criticised Tamrain

“Let’s Foxtrot Oscar before anything else happens” came the voice of reason and the Monk Ding Dong.

Dave flapped his wings, which made him take off and as usual nobody paid him any attention as they moved round to the front of the house.

“It’ll be over soon enough” said the Chronicler closing his box and the light going out.

“You haven’t seen those things, I have and they may not survive this.” The sound of battle rang from the front of the house.

“Well I bid you good day Dave and may you enjoy your time with your proper group.” Said the Chronicler winking out of existence, and re-appearing at the front of the house, sat on a bench at the picket fence, he re-opened the box.”

The scene was furious as weapons were swung, slicing through the army from hell. Ding lead from the front, never moaning and kicking butt. Elias or YoYo was up and down so many times it was embarrassing, and always moaning over his low HP, whatever that is.”

Dave was alone and had nothing to do. Maybe he should just check to see what was going on.

The battle swung in favour of the devils as YoYo went down, enraged at his fallen comrade Bing.
That bloody crow is back, a crow flew over the house and thought better of flying through the battle zone.

The Chronicler waved his hands and muttered something.

enraged Bing the Barbarian swung his axe back and at the final moment it slipped from his grasp and flew backwards towards the house.

Dave’s view of the battle overhead was enthralling and appalling at the same time. When suddenly an axe flying end over end nearly caught Dave. Dave turned and it barely missed him, in fact a sliver of feather floated towards the floor.

Bing’s axe missed and now unarmed he looked for a weapon, finding the druid’s staff Bing set about destroying his opponents with this blunt instrument not unlike Bing himself.

The battle was short and the heroes returned back to Waterdeep. All the while Yoyo moaning about his staff, and how that ectoplasm would never come off. It seems he is only happy when he is moaning.

“What you got there, Chronicler is boring, where is the humour, where are you showing the brighter side of life. The moment, the feeling” Said Dave.

“I am the Chronicler, I chronicle, that is it” said the chronicler.

This argument went well on into the night and they both nearly missed the teleportation to Chult.

Great write-ups guys. Thanks for the efforts - have an advantage die each.

The Spellweavers tale – Musings of Devlin Char

Chult (day 3)
A pleasant evening of rest and recuperation. Sylph is becoming something more than a construct of my magic. She has personality and intellect beyond that which was expected. Her insight is considerable and we have practiced a number of magical effects, I can now take possession of her form, and cause a magical connection for her to deliver my touch spells.

The morning found us meeting with an associate of Lady S. She presented herself as a guide, and was obviously experienced with jungle travel. We were advised to seek a water catcher device, intriguing canvas allowing the capture of 8 gallons of water from the interminable rain of the area, but also a gourde of salve designed to repel insect pests. . After a briefing on basic survival and orientation, it was decided to travel in two groups, meeting up for night fall camp so as to attract less attention. I was placed with the Elias the Druid, Jayne the Ranger and the newcomer T’Sharn, a warlock. The warlock fancies himself an arcane specialist, I conceal my horror than he feels able to comment on the weave, his kind of witchcraft whilst effective is inherently limited. He is a user, not a sculptor of the magic.

We ventured out in the company of our guide, it became clear that Jayne, our woodman extraordinaire talked a good. I had some confidence that going into the jungle we would be easily capable of fending for ourselves. Between the Ranger and the Druid our movement in Chult was likely to be simple enough. We decided to venture to Fort Beluarian, a Flaming Fist enclave in the northern jungle. Lady S advised that a permit of some sort might be necessary and certainly less problematic.

Noon +1 hour
How wrong I was. We are an hour into the jungle, (a thoroughly despicable place), and the Ranger has already tried to steer us the exact wrong direction twice, and the Druid seems convinced she is right! Reliance on my own abilities may be our only hope.

Noon + 3hours
Bless her, Sylph advised of a buzzing of large insects bisecting our path. I mentioned this to our Guide, who looked surprised at my revelation, but we all took cover… Apart from Jayne, who stood gorping at the forest and seemingly unable to move as the largest insects I have ever seem assailed us. Wasps the size of small dogs attacked the hapless Ranger, but also the Druid and I. Well placed stabs with my short sword saw the beast off, whilst the Ranger floundered, ultimately saved by the Druid who roared with anger and transformed into a huge bear. The beast quickly tore apart the insects, but not before I was stabbed by one of them. The pain is excruciating, the toxin thoroughly unpleasant. The Warlock hurled his eldritch lightning to good effect, I have perhaps misjudged him.

Note to self: consult with the Druid on her shifting ability… very effective.

Bestiary Entry: Giant Wasp
Dog sized waste with marked black and yellow stripes, groups of 2-6 observed, apparently territorial with pronounced aggressive tendencies. Stings with painful but ‘mild’ toxin. Very quick and agile. No information on hive or other lifestyle issues.

Noon + 5hours
A stomping the jungle ahead causes us to once again take to the camouflage of the jungle and hide. Again all bar the Jayne, she appears once again to stand on the trail with a bemused aspect, as the huge dinosaur, (our guide advises it to be a Stegosaurus, a herbivore) thunders along the trail. I ready a spell, unsure of how my magic would impact on such a huge beast, fortunately for all the creature passes within a few feet of the Ranger, with little or no interest.

I believe 47% is looking increasingly generous.

Bestiary Entry: Stegosaurus
Stegosaurus (meaning "covered lizard" in elven) is a genus of armored stegosaurid dinosaur. A large, heavily built, herbivorous quadruped, Stegosaurus had a distinctive and unusual posture, with a heavily rounded back, short forelimbs, head held low to the ground and a stiffened tail held high in the air. Its array of plates and spikes are impressive. The spikes were most likely used for defense, while the plates are likely a defensive mechanism, as well as having display and thermoregulatory functions. It had a short neck and small head, meaning it most likely ate low-lying bushes and shrubs.

Camp (day 3)
As the day fades we make camp and are joined by our comrades. They are thoroughly exhausted, their guide apparently had walked them miles, and they were exhausted. Apparently, this was ‘tough love’ and to show all of us what the jungle can do to those not paying proper care. Bing the Barbarian has survived the experience best, and claimed he was ok to stand watch. Watches were set, and we settled in for the night.

Bing and Sylph’s watch passed largely without incident. It came as surprise when the barbarian simply disappeared, clearly the barbarian was asleep on watch. None of us noticed. The alarm was raised by our guide. We found the hapless Barbarian being consumed by a ravaging plant! I hurled magic at the creature and the Jayne finally managed to do something right by keeping out of it! The matter was settled once again by the Druid, his bear beast form ripping into the plant which scurried away into the darkness. I got a good look at it. The guide advised it was an Assassin Vine, not uncommon in the jungle and usually only effective against the unwary. His tone was mildly scathing.

Bestiary: Assassin Vine
The vine is completely plant like capable of moveement, it is a large mass of vines that blends perfectly with its jungle environment but sports thorns that allow it to grasp its victim and drag it towards a central area. It is assumed that the thorns draw blood from the restrained vitim, which the creature must absorb in some manner unknown. Then creature attacks with stealth, restains and feeds in relative silence, making it a difficult and dangerous phenomena.

The Jungle (days 4-8 )
Blessed relief, the days of trudging through the jungle are seemingly endless. I almost imagine our guide deliberately invited the incident with giant wasps to make her point. It certainly seems that the Ranger is leaning, still making mistakes, but little things convince me that she has skills. Finally she confesses her training was in forests, similar but not the same as jungles…

Our one encounter of any interest was another dinosaur, which we all managed to conceal ourselves from. And skirted its chosen feeding location. I was able to observe and sketch the creature without significant interruption. The guide advised these creatures normally would not attack unless threatened.

Bestiary Entry: Ankylosarus
Akylosauris Stegosaurus (meaning "covered lizard" in elven) is a genus of armored stegosaurid dinosaur. A large, heavily built, herbivorous quadruped, Stegosaurus had a distinctive and unusual posture, with a heavily rounded back, short forelimbs, head held low to the ground and a stiffened tail held high in the air. Its array of plates and spikes has been the subject of much speculation. The spikes were most likely used for defense, while the plates have also been proposed as a defensive mechanism, as well as having display and thermoregulatory functions. Stegosaurus had a relatively low brain-to-body mass ratio. It had a short neck and small head, meaning it most likely ate low-lying bushes and shrubs.Thick armor plating covers the body of this plant-eating dinosaur, it has an obvious knobbed boney tail that whips back and forth, and would be capable of delivering a devastating strike. Colouring was noted to be muted greys and mottled colour. Creature appears slow and ponderous.

Day 9 – Beluarian Outpost
Finally at noon on the 9th day we arrived at a wooden fort, the base of the Flaming Fist. Our comrades are obviously somewhere behind us, and have yet to arrive. I advised the group that an appropriate explanation of our presence in Chult would likely be necessary, I advised my comrades, that we should share details of our mission for the CHult Ornithological and Agricultural Society (CHAOS) cover story as necessary. I also advised that as the ‘chief representative’ I would deal with the application for the permit and handle negotiations.

We were escorted to the Castellan, a female human, who granted a permit to ‘adventure in Chult’ for a huge sum of 50gp.

I enquired if there were potential jobs to be carried out to help test our newly emerging skills, she advised we speak to the Major, Leira (Water?). Our meeting with Leira could have been more efficient, she is astute and managed to get my companions talking, I tried to coordinate the discussion as best as possible, and she seemed unconcerned and nowhere near as stupid as she made out.

Note to Self: remind comrades about sticking to common messages, confusion only provokes more questions and increases costs we can ill afford to bear.

The Major offered us a bounty on Ghoul ears. She suggested a location some days march from the keep where ghouls proliferated. The fees of 20gp/set of ears seemed reasonable and will no doubt provide us with enough experience to manage the open jungle. I have concerns that our skills may be taxed by ghouls, my researches indicate that the higher undead are cunning and vicious adversaries.

Midnight (day 9)
We are wakened from sleep by the alarm. Apparently, I get to witness an undead assault!

Stirring ourselves, we make our way to the battlements. I make these notes than assist with my crossbow, the high walls are proof against the undead masses and the task is easy and may offer some payment at no risk. I note the Elias has no missile weapons…

Note to self: advise Elias again on the simplicity of ranged attacks.

Breach!
The undead hordes are inside the fort, we must fight!

Tomb of Annihilation – Journal of Jayne Lockwood

Teleportation was a… singular experience and not one I am in any hurry to repeat. One moment, we were standing in the centre of Mistress Sindrane’s darkened sanctum, a breath later and we were amidst a bustling crowd on the streets of Port Nyanzaru! My thoughts were churning and my stomach fared little better, although the less said about that, the better. The heat struck me like an open hand and I was happy to seek shelter from the sun at an inn where our patron assured us our foreign coin would be welcome.

Elias secured us lodgings at Kaya’s House of Repose, near the Red Bazaar. For a druid, he seems quite adept at navigating the pitfalls of city living, more so even than myself, who grew up within the walls of Waterdeep. Also, he dresses so fashionably I would be surprised to see him wildshape into anything other than a clothes horse. Being the only woman in the party, I got a room to myself. Although I was keen to start looking for my father immediately, I felt drained by our sorcerous transit. The temptation to snatch a quick nap proved irresistible and I found myself crawling between the cool, silken sheets.

We awoke the next morning to discover both breakfast and a stranger waiting for us; a native woman called Azaka Stormfang whom our patron has hired to guide us through the jungle. Before we can head inland and start looking for the Soulforge, we must first visit Fort Belurian and purchase an adventurer’s permit. Azaka warned us that a mercenary company called the Flaming Fist have claimed a vast swathe of jungle under the flag of Baldur’s Gate, attacking trespassers who have not paid their toll.

We visited the Red Bazaar to buy provisions for our first expedition. Azaka encouraged us to purchase rain-catchers and insect repellent, but seemed amused when we started browsing for tents to rest in. We bought them anyway.

We set off at noon. I had hoped my father’s lessons would give me some advantage navigating the dense rainforest, but this belief was quickly dispelled. We would have become hopelessly lost were it not for our guide. The first day passed uneventfully and we made good time. I fear our wizard may have caught the sun, as he seems confused as to his own identity and refers to himself by a different name almost every time I have cause to speak with him. I shall continue to call him Tamarin.

On the second day, we were attacked by a swarm of giant wasps. I’ve never much cared for creepy crawlies and I care for them a damn sight less now that one has tried to eat me. The beastly thing was so close I couldn’t get a good shot with my bow and had to hack it apart with my sword. It was simply awful!

Over the next few days, Azaka continued leading us toward Fort Belurian. We crossed paths with several huge lizards that our guide calls ‘dinosaurs’. Fortunately, they seem happy to leave us alone if we extend them the same courtesy. I saw Tamarin sketching the beasts in his journal, he is not without some small artistic talent.

Perhaps the absence of (seemingly random) encounters made us careless, but on the night before we reached our destination, we were reminded that the jungle is no place for tourists. After a long march through the dense undergrowth, I was woken by Tamarin’s voice; the camp was under attack! An assassin vine had silently grappled Bing the barbarian and had him tangled up like a hare in a snare. We were able to save our companion, but I doubt any of us got back to sleep that night.

We arrived at Fort Belurian the next day and were greeted at the gate by men bearing the emblem of the Flaming Fist. We were escorted to the office of the castellan, where we handed over a quarter of the gold Mistress Sindrane had given us in exchange for an adventurer’s permit. We also met the fort’s commander Liara Portyr, who remembered seeing my father six months previously! She suggested that I seek him south of the ruined city of Mezro.

Suddenly, an alarm was sounding and the men of Fort Belurian were rushing to the walls. A huge horde of zombies were shambling toward the wooden palisade!

TBC