Robyn Graive’s journal…
Leaving Kiris Dahn after a rest. Looks like we’re headed back to the disgusting swamps of the Misty Marshes. Wish there was a better way to get there than getting soaking wet and smelly. Mere thought of the swamp makes me sick. Hate that place!
Skull pile up ahead in the mist. Another one of those crude markers the native lizardfolk seem to use as border markers. Senses now on edge. Who knows what lies in wait for us just beyond our fog shrouded vision. Gives me the creeps.
Late that night a thick fog began rolling in. Wet putrid smell fills my senses, and things just continue to get worse. No wonder I hate this bog. Visibility down to thirty feet by the evening. Beginning to feel as though we are four blind mice, and the cats are somewhere out there on the prowl. I don’t like the feeling I am getting in my gut.
Second night we spotted something in the dark waters up ahead, scared the hell out of us but turned out to be just kobolds. Not that kobolds cant prove to be tricky little bastards, and dangerous at times, but they’re not dragons. We quickly took out the little suckers before pressing ahead.
Hour later we noticed a bridge standing about thirty feet ahead shrouded in fog just like everything else in this god forsaken swamp. As we approached two small buildings also came into sight. Wasn’t long before we noticed a heavily cloaked guard standing watch outside of the huts. Altain soon discovered it was one of those dragonmen who turn to stone when you kill them, often trapping your blade inside. Then a draconian spellcaster, who seemed to have an affinity for fire, tried surprising us from the back porch, but was unsuccessful.
Just after the battle concluded, I was standing near the two small huts when I suddenly caught a glimpse of something out of my right eye. Turning quickly my heart nearly exploded from my chest as a massive black dragon swooped down silently from the foggy darkness! I was apparently the only one who noticed the black beast however, as everyone else in the group seemed completely unaware until I screamed out. The battle that soon ensued was one we won’t soon forget as the beast quickly spewed a gout of acid upon the group before tearing into our ranks with its razor sharp claws. Somehow we managed to prevail without a single loss of life. Call it luck, or call it skill, but at least we survived, and that is no small task against such a magnificent beast!
Mongo continues to mumble about how dragons are suppose to have hoards of riches that dreams are made of, but finding any such hoard in these surrounding swamps seems nothing short of impossible. Guess he will just have to keep complaining. He is a dwarf after all, isn’t that what they do?
Each of us quenches our weapons in Nightmare’s heart, and once again the blood gushes over the hilts of our weapons and covers our hands. This time however pain quickly ensued as the creatures blood seemed to be mixed with the very acid that creates its horrific breath! Thankfully Fin was able to heal the grevious wounds of melted flesh with prayers to his beloved Bahamut. This divine power still enthralls me, and is truly a miracle of a long lost god. The quenching ritual also proved to be miraculous once again, as our weapons were engulfed in a blinding light before eached blade began to eminate an enchanting hum. Magic!
After a rest Altain began picking up several of the black dragonscales, while Fin began severing off the huge beasts head. He apparently wished to return to the Queen’s Stone to put the trophy on display for all to see. A move aimed at destroying the enemies morale, or at the very least disbanding any local tribes that worship the beast. Suppose it can’t hurt to try…