Campaign Logs

Moonshine's Journals

By Bryant Alexander

A Slight Detour

On our first trip to Elminster's tower, we ended up leaving Nanoc the dwarf behind in the woods. Now that we were heading back Elminster's tower again, we found him waiting for us right where we'd left him as if he hadn't missed the entire mess in Myth Drannor. Maybe he'd had the right idea…

I was almost getting used to early morning wake-up calls from Grolsch. Getting a first watch wake-up call from Dreya was a change of pace, but it wasn't one I appreciated very much. I got up anyways.

“There's something up in the sky,” Dreya warned.

“Dragon?” I asked, with my fingers crossed.

“Smaller,” Dreya said.

“Dragonkin,” me and Aeryn guessed.

Aeryn sent out Silvorglim. I changed to bat-form, the better to see him. Not that it was exactly like seeing… But what I sensed up there did seem to be the right size for a dragonkin. Aeryn fired off a shot at it. It dropped something back down at us. Whatever it was landed on Armand's head, so there probably wasn't any harm done.

But now that we were out of the mythal, it was time I did something magical other than a Turning. I switched back to elf-form and fired off a Searing Light. Of course, as an elf, I didn't have the blindsense that let me ‘see' my target. But it made a pretty light.

Something flew into the trees. I could fly into trees, too. In bat-form. This was obviously going to be one of those nights. I switched back to bat-form and headed up. I could hear the distinctive crashes of Armand trying to get trees to move out of his way. But Armand was soon drowned out by the battle-bellow of a raging dwarven berserker.

A web spread itself between a couple of tree tops, neatly snaring our flying friend, as well as anchoring a couple of slower moving birds and a very surprised squirrel. It probably wouldn't hold for long, given the way the dragonkin was struggling, but in the meantime, I took a bite out of him in passing. As I circled for another pass, Aeryn bounced up to his level and gave him a friendly stab in the back. He threw an axe at her. I took another bite out of him. It was going to take a while if I had to hickey him to death…

A force blast from below nearly tore the web apart, but our friend didn't appear to enjoy taking the brunt of it. A screaming dwarf flew by, looking very much like he'd been launched from a catapult. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very well aimed catapult. Nanoc kept on going… I'd been thinking of him as ‘Mr. Bouncer', since he was employed as a bouncer the night we met. Tonight I'd get to see if he really did bounce or not.

In the meantime, the dragonkin very nearly gave me a bloody nose as I took another bite out of him. Then he finally broke out of the web. Gravity took over and he thudded to the ground. I came in for a much better controlled landing of my own.

Elsewhere, gravity took over again. We all heard the crunch of dwarf meets tree at thirty feet up. So much for bouncing.

“Is he trying to invent Move Through Wood?” I wondered.

If he was, he was only halfway successful.

“Who wants to be the one in range of the raging dwarf when he breaks free?” Aeryn asked. “Everyone step back.”

We stepped back, but the dwarf, while still raging, didn't seem to be breaking free. From one side of the tree, we could see feet, and from the other side, we could see the tips of his helmet's horns. We could hear him clearly enough.

Aeryn handed Armand a crowbar and her flying cape.

“If you fling the crowbar away this time,” she warned him, “ you have to go get it.”

Once Nanoc was free, he jumped in the nearest stream. He had enough sap on him that he had a hard time not floating. I don't imagine he enjoyed the splinters in his beard much, either.

I much preferred watching Aeryn search the body than watching Nanoc trying to de-tree himself. Aeryn uncovered a great axe, a potion bottle, and a ring. Armand took the smaller dwarven axe that'd landed on his head and passed it to Dreya. That thing could have given him a splitting headache, come to think of it. The only one who actually needed healing was Aeryn, and Dreya dealt with her easily enough. My nose was slightly sore but didn't require any healing.

We decided that packing up might be the better part of valor just about now. Sooner or later, someone was going to miss the dead dragonkin, and they'd check along his patrol route and find us, unless we were somewhere else.

“We should also stop using our real names,” Armand suggested. “We know Pelendralaar knows my name and his name and her name. And the nasty thing is, he has human servants.”

He had a point. And while I, personally, wasn't on Pelendralaar's guest list just yet, but I'd have a better chance of staying off of it if my companions kept a lower profile.

“Everyone who can be disguised should be disguised,” Armand said.

“Disguise you as what ?” Aeryn asked. “A maypole?”

That might work too well. Armand reluctantly agreed that he just isn't disguisable.

“Most half orcs look alike,” Armand reasoned.

That was true, but mainly because no one wanted to get a closer look. Or worse, a closer smell.

“But Pain and Suffering stand out,” Armand said.

Unfortunately, our conclusion was that Aeryn was the only one of the three that we could really disguise. And the really important thing at the moment was to hit the road.

“At least I got some distance out of it,” Nanoc concluded.

“You got some fiber,” I added.

We headed down the road until we spotted smoke in the distance. A little further along and we could see a village under the smoke.

“Let's stay out of sight,” Armand suggested, “and send the elf on ahead.”

In the instance, I could guess which elf was the elf. I didn't mind hiding while Aeryn did the scouting. It wasn't long before she came back with news.

“It looks like it might've happened while we were playing with the dragonkin,” Aeryn reported. “I found what might be drow tracks.”

I was impressed. She didn't spit after she said ‘drow'. The fact that I also didn't spit after hearing her say it was further proof of our refined elven breeding. Not that our companions were refined enough to notice, but we knew it.

In the village, we found bodies. Only a few dozen, since it was a small hamlet. Emphasis on was . The murderers hadn't stopped at murder, either. The town well was unwell, and everything that wasn't simply smashed was in a state of disarray.

“I suppose you want to say words for the dead and bury them,” Armand said with a sigh of resignation.

He was starting to get the idea. Maybe the holy symbols that me and Dreya had out was part of what had given him a clue.

“Who wants to go with Grolsch and track and kill whoever did this?” Aeryn asked.

It was tempting, but I had to care for the dead.

“You have two hours,” Armand said.

In what was left of the barn, we found slaughtered animals and flayed villagers hanging from the rafters. Oddly enough, we didn't find much blood.

“It's like what my people do,” Armand mused, “but they have skin on them. If my people were to do something like this, we would move in afterwards.”

So it was the smashed buildings and ruined well that bothered him, not the dead people? I would've asked, but then he caught Pain and Suffering, doing what scavengers do best. He traded them an oxen leg for what was left of a human leg. So he did care about the human deaths here.

Despite the slaughter, we did have to eat, too. Armand settled down to make some stew. Aeryn came back from following Grolsch, even more sure than before that this was drow handiwork. Unfortunately, the trail led to a circle of stones and then disappeared mysteriously.

“What's a drow?” Armand asked.

We proceeded to give him Drow 101: Filthy, slimy, disgusting, abominable, evil, scheming, skulking, perverted, irredeemable… Normally, I'd add ‘ruthless', too, but Armand might find that quality admirable. It was obvious, of course, that the elven race was superior to others, so we didn't dwell on the point. Elves such as Aeryn and myself were able to coexist with others, even if they were inferior. The drow weren't good at sharing and preferred to exterminate anyone who wasn't one of their own.

“They're sore losers,” Aeryn added. “They lost to my people centuries ago and they haven't forgotten.”

“I can see that they're inefficient,” Armand said. “I could see conquering a village, but this is just wasteful.”

Aeryn and I exchanged looks.

“I'm glad we're not in his lands,” I said finally.

“I'm glad we're not, too,” Armand said. “There are reasons why I left my land and I don't intend to go back.”

“Are you sorry you sent your king that sword?” Aeryn asked.

We mounted up and rode out of the remains of the village. Armand was in an unusually chatty mood, but that was fine with me. I'd been curious about what strange foreign land he'd come from. We'd already discovered that when he called his people ‘fey' it meant a different race entirely than the local fey, who were probably more closely related to my people than to his.

“My people are valued for their magic,” Armand explained. “Magic usually comes in around adolescence. Mine was just coming in when I was offered this scouting mission. If the Black King had known about the strength of my magic, I would have been married to one of his granddaughters. The problem with being a royal-in-law is that royals are prohibited from killing each other. I would have been a target. Someone who wanted to chastise my wife would have killed me.”

And Aeryn had a problem with her fiancé?

“I sent the sword back to the Black King with my first and only report. It summons demons. He's probably recruited them by now. The Black King personally conquered… led the conquest of two continents.”

I began to see where Armand got his ruthless streak from.

“If I returned now, I'd either be executed and turned into spell components or used for breeding, willingly or unwillingly.”

This might've been an appropriate time to talk about my own childhood woes, but somehow… Telling Armand that my father wouldn't know the difference between a blessing and a curse even if I bit him… Well, compared to the life he'd left behind, my complaints would sound childish.

“There's something ahead,” Aeryn pointed out.

Something ahead looked like the local militia. Fine. I could stand having an interruption, even if Armand might have had more to say about his homeland. We respectfully pulled off the side of the road. It would've been too much for us to hope that they would respectfully ride past and be about their business. The rest of us could hide, but Armand stuck out like… like someone who wasn't easily disguised.

What goes there?” the militia captain asked.

“I am Tyson, a traveler,” Armand answered.

“Come out where we can see you,” the captain requested.

“Is this area part of your patrol?” ‘Tyson' asked.

“Yes, it is,” the captain said.

“Then there's something you might like to know,” Armand said. “A small village back that way appears to have been attacked by something called drow.”

“Where is this drow?” the captain asked.

“They were gone already when we got there,” Armand said.

“Are you alone here?” the captain asked.

“I'm with others,” Armand admitted.

“Where are they?” the captain asked.

“Around,” Armand said.

“And who might you be?” Aeryn asked from up a tree.

“Sir Guin of Daggerdale,” the captain answered. “You is Tyson…”

Aeryn came down and stepped out.

“Selene of Cormanthor,” she said.

“I believe Selene tried to follow them,” Armand said.

At least I rated a small bow when I came out. My clerical robes earned me some small touch of respect.

“I'm going to have to report back,” Sir Guin decided.

He sent half of his men forward to go investigate the ruins and insisted that we follow him and the rest of his men into Daggerdale. Given the choice of following him or fighting him, we decided that we'd made enough enemies recently. We followed them to Dagger Falls . We were ushered into the main hall of the local castle, where we met Randal Morn, the local lord.

“What are you doing in my wonderful lands?” he asked.

“Passing through,” Armand said.

Some court dandy sauntered over to Lord Morn and began whispering in his ear.

“We're on our way to Shadowdale, actually,” Armand added quickly.

Lord Morn leaned back, smirking.

“Okay, Sir Tyson,” he said. “Who's the leader of this band?”

“I suppose that would be me,” Armand said.

“You didn't happen to come from Myth Drannor, did you?” Lord Morn asked.

“No, we don't come from Myth Drannor,” Armand replied.

He was being perfectly honest, too. We'd just traveled from there, but we didn't come from there.

“There's been something of a disturbance from there,” Lord Morn said.

Understatement of the year.

“From what I know of the area,” Armand said, “a disturbance there shouldn't be unusual.”

“The Dragon Cult is searching for enemies,” Lord Morn said.

“By that,” Armand asked, “do you mean they're searching for enemies they already have or are they searching for new enemies?”

“Is that like searching for gold?” Aeryn asked.

All valid questions, which is probably why Lord Morn changed the subject.

“Might you know a certain elderly mage?” Lord Morn asked. “He said to keep an eye out for a certain party. He's not in his tower at the moment. He said that if you'd survived Myth Drannor, you could help the Dalelands.”

“We might not be that party,” Armand cautioned Lord Morn. “I take it the problem concerns the drow?”

“They used to rule Shadowdale,” Lord Morn said.

“And now they need a good ass-kicking?” Aeryn asked hopefully.

“Is that typical of their behavior?” Armand asked.

“It's a reprisal for one of our raids,” Lord Morn said. “We could use an adventurous crew to go into their lands. There's an old family crypt, the Dordrien crypts. We've launched reprisals into the top area crypts.”

“We need to reprovision,” Armand said. “And stable the horses. And…”

Randal offered us 5000 gold pieces to accept the mission, an additional five thousand for medical expenses incurred during the mission, plus fifty gold per drow ear collected, one ear allowed per drow. If they were worried about cheating, I'd suggest that something they only had one of would make more sense… but some of the drow might be female. Typically, it was the male drow who were the cannon fodder and the females who administrated/held the whips, but you never knew. Their ruthlessly structured society was so… un-elven.

“What do you use the ears for?” Armand asked.

I had way too many answers for that question to actually say any single one out loud. Besides, most of my answers involved using the sort of language that I find beneath me.

“Bounty,” Aeryn explained simply. “I need more sacks.”

We were given manacles, too, on the off chance we found someone to bring back alive for questioning.

Armand had to go take a little trip before we could begin hunting drow. There was something about the Rod of Orbakh that made him want to have it someplace other than his backpack. So he took a little ride to Elminster's tower. I was just as glad to see it go, considering that it was useful to evil clerics and of no use whatsoever to me.

While he was on the road, Aeryn had our latest spoils identified. The potion was Cure Moderate, the ring was a ring of protection, and the axe was a throwing axe of distance. Aeryn and Nanoc diced for the ring, as if it would make a big difference for either of them. Aeryn already had a ring of protection that was almost as good, and Nanoc charged into everything headfirst.

We also got to do a little shopping. I'd promised to wear purple ribbons to help identify myself, lest I be mistaken for an unfriendly giant bat, and this was my first opportunity to actually purchase some. Maybe Pelendralaar didn't know my name, too, but I was somehow loath to pin on a nametag.

Given the limited shopping available here, we still had some free time left while waiting for Armand to return.

“ Bath time,” Aeryn decided.

“I bathed last week,” Grolsch said.

“Bull,” Aeryn said.

Aeryn handed Grolsch a bar of rosemary scented soap. Grolsch experimentally bit off the corner, chewed in what passes for a thoughtful manner among half orcs, and then threw the rest of the bar over his shoulder. I was just thankful that he didn't follow up with a bubbling belch.

Nanoc came up with a pumice stone, a far more useful item for cleaning half orcs. I, however, had already seen more than enough of Grolsch's ablutions.

Aeryn had another inspiration. One of our chief worries was that in the event that one of us met with an unfortunate demise, Grolsch would reincarnate us.

“If you come back as a beaver,” I offered, “I'll help you keep your teeth polished.”

Aeryn did not look pleased at the prospect of beaverhood, but I can't really say that I wanted to come back as something else, either. Having been born an elf, anything I came back as would be a step downward. On the other hand, if Nanoc was reincarnated as a beaver, the next time he launched himself into a tree, he could gnaw his own way out instead of needing one of us to chisel him loose.

Aeryn exchanged a lock of hair with me, so if one of us did die, we'd have something to bring to the nearest temple for a resurrection. We'd do what we had to with Grolsch to stop him from performing a reincarnation beforehand. When Armand returned from his side trip, minus Rod, we exchanged locks of hair with him as well. It just wouldn't be the same if Armand ended up as a flamingo.

Lord Randal Morn reported another two drow raids had left fifteen to twenty farmers dead. They probably wouldn't know for certain until after the next census. Who really kept track of how many farmers there were? I don't think they were going to try reassembling what was left of the bodies.

We were given an escort out to the crypts, mainly so they could escort our horses back to town. The locals didn't like going out to the crypts, since they were rumored to be haunted, and worse, were rumored to be an entrance into the Underdark. Of course, we were going in in the hopes that they were an entrance.

We were led along a trail that wound past a low, rounded hill dotted with jutting boulders and dense briar patches. Beyond this first rampart, the long chain of the ragged Dagger Hills stretched away to the south and the east. The trail turned south, skirting the lower slopes.

Our escort left us facing two old, small, stone buildings that stood in the shadow of a hill. The ruined shells of several others lay nearby, overgrown with tough brown grass. A niche was cut in the hillside just past the surface buildings. Within it was an entrance blocked by a pair of great stone double doors.

“We could probably buy up land here really cheap,” I observed. “Then after we've killed the drow, we could sell it back at a profit.”

“Moonshine!” Aeryn said.

I'd seen what the party treasury was like when we prepared that bucket of tribute for Pelendralaar. I didn't have that kind of money. Sehanine Moonbow's temples didn't have that kind of money. Then again, if surviving adventures with this party proved that profitable, maybe I wouldn't have to resort to real estate ventures. I hadn't made anything off the Myth Drannor trip, but that was probably because they'd already looted the place.

“Shall we start with the commoners' vault?” Aeryn suggested.

That sounded like a good idea. Despite the general state of disrepair here, the noble mausoleums were more likely to have caretakers visiting periodically. Once a millennium, by the look of them… No one would care much if drow wandered through the resting place of penniless peasants. So we turned towards the big double doors.

The doors themselves were just blocks of stone with handles, but they were flanked by a pair of columns carved to resemble skeletal warriors in full plate armor, their visored helmets open to reveal their leering skulls. Just once, I'd like to see a skull that didn't leer.

I wouldn't have minded the columns so much if we didn't have to stand there looking at them for so long. There were no apparent locks on the outside of the doors, but they didn't open. It seemed as if they'd been chained shut from the inside.

“The drow locked the door behind them?” I guessed.

Aeryn fiddled about with the doors.

“The drow don't even have to be here to be frustrating,” I muttered.

Finally, there was a nice clong ! and Aeryn had the doors open. We peered in at a ten foot wide hallway of stone that ran back into the hillside as far as we could see. Right in front of us were five dead drow, three with short crossbow quarrels sticking out of them, and two with their heads caved in from blunt weapons.

“You know what this means,” Aeryn said.

That there were five less drow to pollute the world? That we'd picked the right doors on the first try?

“Five ears,” Aeryn said, pulling out a knife.

“Who killed them?” Armand wondered.

“They probably killed each other,” I said. “Drow like killing. If they have no one else to kill, they kill each other.”

“At least my people are better disciplined,” Armand said. “They usually don't kill each other.”

Aeryn whirled on Grolsch.

“If you're going to fart this way the whole cave…,” she said. “There's no open air!”

“But it smells better,” Grolsch pointed out.

The air did smell strongly of death, but Grolsch's air of orcishness wasn't much of an improvement. Armand took out a sun rod, since even those of us with superior eyes could only see so far into the darkness. As we advanced, we found an empty alcove, which Aeryn explored. She motioned ‘all clear' to us, and then we followed her around the corner.

Aeryn stopped when she got to a door that was plastered shut. Chisel marks showed that someone didn't believe in letting things lie.

“Be ready to Turn things,” Aeryn warned.

Dreya and I had our respective holy items ready. We didn't believe in letting things lie, either. We had only a moment to see that there were sarcophagi in the room behind the door when something blue flashed under Aeryn's feet. She started moving those feet quickly backwards as two golden dire lions materialized in the hallway, accompanied by a peal of thunder and twin roars of anger.

“Damage time!” Aeryn shouted. “Your turn!”

She leaped acrobatically and gave a lion a flaming stab in the back. The lion swiped at her. I tried my Searing Light again, and a lion disappeared in a flash. Poor Dreya had to duck so Armand could step over her and hit the remaining lion with his flaming sword. The second lion disappeared in another flash.

We entered the room. Dreya and I were ready for anything that might pop out of the sarcophagi, but we found very little, and nothing animate. The ten sarcophagi turned up one withered body, a silver necklace decorated with moonstones, a gold ring with a black pearl, an ornate short spear, a wand (like we hadn't just ditched a wand), and a gold torc.

We backed out and returned to the hallway. A little further along the hall, Aeryn found us another plastered door, one that hadn't met with a chisel recently.

“I can break through,” Nanoc offered.

“We might wanna have a door we can close behind us,” Aeryn said.

Nanoc looked like a bull trying to decide if that waving flag was red or not.

“Someone point him at something,” I suggested.

Dreya and Armand worked together on the door. He chipped away at the top. She chipped away at the bottom. They made a good team. It looked like it was working until a burst of intense light flung Armand away. Dreya ran after him. Nanoc charged the door and went flying after Armand.

Aeryn put a hand over her face.

“Mother never said there'd be days like these,” she said.

I cast Dispel Magic on the door glyph. The glyph dimmed, and on his second charge, Nanoc shattered the door into splinters.

“Why do I think Elminster doesn't like us very much?” Armand muttered.

The room's most prominent feature was a stone statue of a regal-looking woman dressed in a long, elegant gown. Her pose was commanding, and her presence was imposing, even in stone as she stared imperiously towards what used to be the door.

“My parents were adventurers,” I remarked. “They never warned me there'd be days like these, either.”

Our animal companions seemed nervous. They didn't seem to want to enter the room. Their attitude was starting to make me nervous. But I didn't get really nervous until the statue started yelling at us. I cast Comprehend Languages.

“Who dares defile the Quallem tomb?” she demanded.

“We're the exterminators,” I explained. “We're here to clean the vermin out of your tomb.”

Unfortunately, since my spell didn't work both ways, she didn't comprehend me. Even if she had comprehended, ‘exterminators' probably wouldn't have gone over any better than ‘phylactery inspectors', even if it was true. Then again… The statue returned to normal. Maybe it'd worked, after all.

A ghostly woman appeared in front of the statue.

“Moonshine!” Aeryn shouted.

She threw some Magic Missiles at the ghost, but she obviously wanted me to try Turning it. I wanted to try Turning it, but the room suddenly seemed awfully crowded.

“Who are you?” Armand shouted at it in elven.

I couldn't see what was happening. Nanoc screamed incoherently. My Turning failed. Armand was swinging his sword around… and when I got through the crowd, the ghost was gone. Nanoc, however, had white streaks in his hair. It almost looked like someone had upended a bowl of sherbet over his head.

Armand decided to bust open one of the doors leading out of the room.

“Let me check for traps,” Aeryn suggested.

She opened the door to reveal more sarcophagi. Nanoc began smashing the statue. When Aeryn opened a sarcophagus to reveal a skeleton, I said some blessings over it in the hope that it would stay put. We found nothing of interest behind door number two, but we found another body behind door number three. The corpse was wearing a gold pectoral and a magic ring. Unfortunately, when Aeryn removed them, a magic mouth formed on the corpse.

“Whomsoever despoils my tomb shall be devoured by demons seven days hence!”

At least, that's how I heard it, since my Comprehend Languages spell was still functioning. I repeated the warning in Common for the rest of the party.

“So do we keep the stuff and worry about it next week?” Aeryn asked. “Yes or no?”

“It's not natural,” Grolsch said.

“Demons,” Nanoc said. “Yuck. No.”

We took a little cleaning break after that. It was a good thing that I'd been crowded out of the battle with the ghost. Aeryn and Nanoc had gotten a good look at the ghost being horrific and needed to change clothes and take a quick dip in the nearest stream.

It was about five o'clock when we headed back in. We advanced down a stair into a hallway that opened up into what looked like natural caverns. Graves were hallowed out of the walls, and we could see some jumbles of bones within. Some sort of yellow mold seemed to be infesting some of the graves.

“I think the yellow mold might be bad,” Aeryn said.

“Ask Lichen Boy,” I suggested.

“Hey, Lichen Boy!” Aeryn called out.

“Don't lick it,” Grolsch recommended.

For that, we needed a druid? Nanoc crept forward with a rod extended in front of him. The rest of us backed away, which was a good thing, because when Nanoc reached the mold, an ugly yellow cloud foofed out over him. It might've been better if he'd licked it.

“This is not my fault,” Armand said.

I'm not hearing anything,” Aeryn said. “So I missed one trap. It could've happened to anyone.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Now we have Lichen Boy and Fungus Face.”

“Maybe the druid can create water over his head,” Armand said.

If I wanted to make money for my order, instead of real estate investments, maybe I should try taking out a life insurance policy on Nanoc. A very short term life insurance policy.

“Wait,” Aeryn said. “I hear footsteps. It's over there.”

Armand quickly put down his sun rod. Everyone hid, except a certain moldy dwarf. Nanoc charged… then stopped. Whatever Aeryn had heard was something none of us could see. So I changed into bat-form. Granted, my radar squeaks upset the animals, but now I could point at the invisible thing.

Aeryn pulled out a rod, touched herself with it, then tapped Armand. Nanoc was swinging a hammer around, until he hit something that it bounced off of.

“Hammer not effective!” he shouted.

He switched to some kind of club. His target became visible, in a blurred sort of way. Unfortunately, Nanoc's club bounced off it, too. Dreya tossed some holy water at it. We all got a little wet, but I didn't mind. I changed back to elf-form. I had a funny feeling that biting it wouldn't do much good, so I'd be better off throwing spells at it.

It bit Aeryn.

“Kids!” Aeryn shouted. “Wake up and save me!”

Dreya flung more holy water. The thing spit. Presumably it was the taste of holy water that got to it, not the taste of Aeryn. I tried throwing a Random Action spell at it, but it fizzled.

Something got through the creatures defenses, though, because it finally keeled over and with the blurring effect gone it was clearly... For a moment there, it looked human, but then it looked like a pair of drow, male and female, before becoming a puddle of black goo.

“What the…?” Armand asked. “Was that something created by breeding a lot of different things together?”

“It was a tanar'ri,” Dreya said. “A type of demon.”

Currently, it appeared to be the best type of demon: a dead one.

The content of Moonshine's Journals is the property and copyright of Bryant Alexander, and are not to be published or redistributed without permission.

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