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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Nail" data-source="post: 1533790" data-attributes="member: 224">Fun DM musings......Grawthic was tired.It had been a long walk, much longer than the previous day.  He much preferred squatting in his slimy cave, watching the game trails as they wandered through the Aldersmere.  Lots of things would creep along those paths, trying to pass unnoticed.  Things that squeaked and gurgled when Grawthic ripped their arms off, or (even better) cried out for mercy as he gutted them....yes, Grawthic much preferred hiding in the muck and letting the food-things come to him. But that was before.  Before the goblins had fled, before the bad thing had come.Grawthic didn't like the bad thing.  The bad thing hurt Grawthic, something the swamp troll wasn't used to.  It had taken him awhile, but Grawthic had made up his mind: he had to go to a place without bad things.  He had heard from a friend, one day as they were clawing each other to ribbons, that beyond the hills were lots of food-things, things with soft skin and tasty bones that crunched easily when you bit them.  His friend's head, after Grawthic had ripped it from the shoulders, even promised that these food-things ran slowly, and screamed very loudly when eaten.  Grawthic had liked that idea; he even gave his friend's head back to his body as a token of thanks.But his friend hadn't mentioned how long the walk was.  By the Dark One’s left eye-socket, Grawthic did hate long walks. Especially up all of these gravely - rocky- stony hills.  Ground was meant to squish when stepped on, not poke and scrape and skitter about!Night had come – finally! – and now was time to rest.  Tomorrow he would descend these hills, and shamble out into the soft-looking farmlands.  From here he could even see a settlement of some kind, undoubtedly filled with soft things to eat.A bitingly cold chill snapped Grawthic out of his reverie.  Something cold, shockingly cold, had just touched his outstretched ankle!  He looked around, but saw nothing...except a small black thing, on the ground.  It was shaped like a small squirrel, but it was all black, shadowy...  Grawthic swiped at it, giving it a loud growl for good measure.  This little dark thing should go away....His claw passed right through it!  The shadowy thing jumped at him again, and Grawthic felt the numbing chill pass through his side.  He lurched to his feet, and nearly stumbled and fell; his legs could barely carry him.  Grawthic tried to claw it, even bite it....but his attacks passed though it like a rock through the wind.  The little dark thing attacked him again, and again.  Nothing Grawthic could do would hurt it or stop it.  Fear filled his heart.Its pale, red-glowing eyes narrowed for a moment, then it leaped again, straight for his neck.  He tried to ward it off, arms flailing, legs back-pedaling as fast as they could go.....he felt an overwhelming chill and despair as it passed through him.  All went dark ..... all was black .....all was gone.Time passes.  The little dark thing is gone.  The dead-grey body of a swamp troll lies on a hill over-looking the vale of Eaglesford.From the body, a dark, shadowy shape rises.....</blockquote>

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