Session 8: Sun-Drenched Sands and Scaly Foes: A New Chapter on the Nile

 Day 25 - 27 of Rainhelven

https://on.soundcloud.com/KegnmEA5oqG6GAGJX1

Ah, the road less traveled, or in this case, the river less sailed, often yields the richest tales. I, a humble observer of fates, have recently witnessed a new chapter unfold, a saga of bravery, folly, and pancakes, starring a most peculiar band of adventurers. Pull up a stool, fill your tankards, and lend an ear, for the whispers from the Nile's edge are ripe with adventure.

Our story begins on Day 25 of Rainhelvin, a bright morning. A diverse group of heroes, fresh from their triumph, were feasting at a Dwarven Temple. Their reward for retrieving lost treasures? Free room and board, and a veritable mountain of pancakes for breakfast: blueberry, buckwheat, rye, and even a strange seaweed variety. A stout young acolyte named Dei, a veritable twin of their own dwarf, Stripes, escorted them to their next mode of transport.

Their vessel, a simple raft, awaited on the Nile. Its master, an imposing figure named Dalsom, stood guard – tall, skinny, bald, and seventy years old, draped in a cloak of wreaths. Dalsom, a man of few words but much wisdom, laid down the law of the river:

• Stay away from the edges of the raft.

• Do not let any appendages drag in the water.

• Avoid eating on the raft. 

His grim warnings about the voracious crocodiles, whose sense of smell rivals a dwarf's, quickly set the tone for their journey. Vigilance, he declared, was their only hope.

The first day's travel downriver saw them divided into defensive positions – Fitz the fighter-thief (half-elf), Dalton the human ranger, Jaylen Starfire the cleric-magic user, Lyra the elven ranger, and Stripes the dwarf. They were a watch-tower on water, bows at the ready. It wasn't long before Stripes, with a keen eye, spotted movement in the water. A swift arrow to the eye from Stripes' bow struck a crocodile, leading to a gruesome display as four other crocs turned on their wounded kin. "Very good work," Dalsom commended, a rare compliment for their quick thinking.

As dusk fell, they sought refuge on the east bank, in a cove beneath a cliff overhang. Dalsom, ever the pragmatist, insisted on torches to deter animals, and the party organized one-hour guard shifts. For the hours the torches couldn't last, Dalsom produced a small lantern and Fitz provided the oil. The old orman himself sat in the center of their camp, meditating and emitting a low, sleep-inducing hum throughout the night. The desert night was cold, but passed without incident.

Day 26 dawned, and by 8 or 9 AM, they arrived at a goblin launching site on the west bank – a desolate place, scoured clean of trees and vegetation by their enemies. Dalsom, true to his word, would wait there for five days, until Day Two of the next month, Sunscorch, before leaving them to their own devices. Before venturing further into the goblin-haunted lands, Jaylen put her skills to use, purifying their water skins from the river.

Following the goblin tracks, the party made their way northwest, then west, along towering desert cliffs. It was there that Dalton's ranger's eye noticed something amiss: the cliffs were unstable, poised to collapse. A cautious detour led them around the danger, but not without consequence. The desert floor, rife with cacti, pricked at their heels. Fitz, Stripes, and Dalton each suffered a painful scratch, losing a single hit point, though Lyra and Jaylen's elven grace saw them through unscathed.

Then, a sudden encounter – a giant Gila lizard, four feet long, basking on a rock, its unblinking stare a chilling reminder of the desert's perils. Recognizing its poisonous nature and deceptive speed, the party wisely chose to back away, leaving the creature undisturbed.

Later, an oasis shimmered into view, a welcome sight in the arid expanse. But rest was not to be had without challenge. A fifteen-foot crocodile, truly a monster of the desert, lay sunning itself by the water. Driven by a hunger for experience points and perhaps a desire for vengeance for a lost ranger (though his death remains unconfirmed), the party launched a surprise arrow volley. Though most arrows missed, Fitz's shot enraged the beast, sending it charging. But the combined might of Fitz, Dalton, and Lyra's bows proved too much, felling the colossal reptile before it could even close the distance.

The great beast's stomach, when cut open, revealed nothing but half-eaten fish. Deciding to rest at the oasis, Dalton and Stripes tried their hand at fishing for carp, catching several between them. They even found a few immature coconuts from a palm tree, though their milk proved sour. Fitz, with his high dexterity, then attempted to skin the fallen crocodile for its valuable leather, a task of immense difficulty. After an hour and a half of strenuous effort, he failed spectacularly, butchering the hide beyond repair. They did manage to salvage some strangely delicious crocodile meat for dinner, alongside their carp.

As Day 27 dawned, after a cold desert night watched over by a roaring fire and feasting buzzards, the party, with dry mouths and renewed purpose, resumed their pursuit of the goblins. Six hours later, the arid desert giving way to a more desolate landscape, a hill or mountain with a cave entrance appeared on the horizon, the undeniable destination of the goblin tracks. Knowing that goblins despise sunlight, the adventurers approached cautiously, now standing 200 yards from the mouth of what promises to be a dangerous lair.

What new dangers await them in the goblin fortress? Will their journey to Split Rock be successful? Ah, but that, my friends, is a tale for another time, when these adventurers, or what remains of them, emerge from the shadows. Until then, remember the lessons of the Nile: vigilance, preparation, and perhaps, a healthy fear of large reptiles.