I be tryin’ to get me account of our movement toward the vampire’s lair straightened out, but between the attacks of that strange vegetative force disorienting me a bit and Henrick’s meddlin’ in me journal, it be a bit of a boondoggle. I’ll try me best…
The band of us be debatin’ the best way to measure the threat of the vampire Datou; Zoltan thinks the best way is for us to be dressin’ up as women and interactin’ with the bloodsucker as Star Sister adherents if he shows that night. Me and the orc ain’t so big on that idea, instead wantin’ to make more of a direct attack at his lair, but Zoltan casts his illusions makin’ us appear female, which makes Adele even more uncomfortable about the plan. She be agreein’ huntin’ him down at his lair be the way to go, but Zoltan and Henrick decide to give the gnome’s plan a go.
The night don’t be goin’ well for the pair. First, the gnome can’t quite get the ceiling to go fully transparent (that be makin’ star-gazing a bit difficult, don’t it?). They soon be hearin’ a bit of a clatter on the roof, and a voice almost tempts them to go outside. They leave before they make any other bad choices, and neither be getting’ a good look at the beast. It could be a vampire cat, for all we know.
The next mornin’ we be headed east, the boggy terrain makin’ for slow travel. Later that day we come to a dense fog, too dense for natural in my mind. Henrik, the ranger, lags behind the rest of us and is attacked by bullywugs, though they be distorted in obscene ways. The party makes quick work of the beasts as I decide to trudge ahead and investigate the fog.
Might’ve been a mistake. I be attacked by an overpowerin’ force that be plantlike in nature, leadin’ me to lose me bearings a bit. Collectin’ meself, I knocked it with me hammer once or twice and then cast a powerful spell at it, aimin’ to steal its moisture. Not as much effect as I had hoped, but Belomash came runnin’ to help as well.
Meanwhile, Zoltan begins summoning his stone golem but, that be takin’ some time, becomes a target of a giant crocodile. The toothy beast’s attacks draw the others’ attention who come to the gnome’s aid, while Henrick makes his way to me. The elf tries communicatin’ with the plant-thing that attacked me, but is himself attacked and insulted so vulgarly it would have made a dwarven battle-rager blush.
The croc soon be ready to be made into come boots, and the others head our way.
“Well, elf, do ye have any bright ideas to be clearin’ this fog?” I ask.
Not sure we do.
