Der Kluge's Wilderlands Campaign

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Much of the rest of this battle is related to me by Cyridon and Theros later in the Ogre’s lair, where we retreated to recuperate before we made our way out of the caverns. The frogs were much larger, and far more dangerous, than anything we’ve seen yet. Pale yellow and ivory colored, with splotches of red and black, and with sticky tongues covered in a pale red slime that robs you of your strength. Chath had been rendered feeble by the frog that ate him, and I had been hit twice. Hearing this from Cyridon, I am amazed my heart didn’t stop beating, or that my lungs continued to pump.

Balderk grabbed me as I collapsed into the chill water, only to be stung himself as he fell back. Theros actually leapt into the fray, scooping up the trident from where I dropped it and slaying one of the cave frogs with a quick thrust. He used his teleportation trick to zap back a few feet then threw a spell, thin filaments of webbing flying from his fingers in pulsing waves, covering the frogs in sticky strands.

Here, Cyridon whispers to me, is where Balderk suddenly looses interest in the fight. The frogs are helpless, and he refuses to cut them down. I blink at him in disbelief as he tells me this, but Cyridon nods and promises me its truth. Unbelievable. It takes a THIRD frog, popping up from under the water and nailing Theros with its cold, strength-stealing venom to start the fight up again. This time its Theros who looses the trident, but Cyridon surges forward, snatching it up as Theros summons the energies to create a sphere of flame, burning and bouncing along the surface of the water.

The flaming sphere burns through the sticky webbing, freeing the frogs even as it singes them. Cyridon pokes at the lead frog, goring it but getting a tongue-lashing from the one behind it in return. Theros conjures missiles of pure force, slamming them into the hide of the final frog just as Balderk sinks beneath the surface of the lake, too weak to stand in his own armor.

?!

The two spell-casters apparently saved our collective asses.

 

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Balderk and Cyridon, the only ones capable of standing upright after this massacre, drag Chath, Theros and myself back to the Ogre’s Lair, where we spend two nights recovering from the beating the white cave frogs gave us. Cyridon has trouble summoning the reserves to heal our strength, but he does the best he can. Lucky that we cleared this section of these caves earlier, though the wight and its minions probably would not have left their tombs to seek us. The ogre though, he would have killed us all if we had gone left first, into that dreadful lake and its monstrous killer frogs. Even the potent Frog Gig was little use against three of those monsters, and I’ll bet you gold to copper there are more of them further back.

After two days of recuperating in the Ogre’s Lair we crawl back to the temples, still weak and stumbling. Our strength is slow to return, even though Cyridon has fully healed our wounds. The frog’s venom was potent and took several days to work out. One more night at the temple and we head back to the Pentolus’, or rather _our_ tower.

We rest another day, dallying in the summer sun and eating meals of rabbit, quail, and pheasant, and finally feel rested enough to trek back to town. We sort through what loot we have recovered, taking the small valuables from the Ogre and Wight lairs and leaving the arms and armor, then make our way back to town, just in time for the festival.

As we arrive at the outskirts of town, I spy a series of flags and pennants flying at one of the many camps scattered about and stop short. These people came to Norgood for the festival and tournaments, and are come from miles in all directions. The flags that catch my eye though, I have seen before. Indeed, I am very familiar with the crest and sigils.

Starchilde. Falak, my eldest half-brother.

Crap.