Shadow of the Firstborn

Igan's Journal

Where Igan doesn't get to finish his beer

Reluctantly, I pull away from the final offering in the beer paddle, the pride of The Yellow Wand, as a scream pierces the night.  Reaching the window of the cosy tavern just in time for to be hurled from my feet as the wall of the inn exploded inwards.

 

Grasping my druidic totem, I pull myself to my feet finding that a humanoid creature, composed of swamp, vines and sticks, was wreaking destruction to all around it. Not what I had in mind for the evening. Well, sticks burn.

 

Putting a bit more power in to the cantrip I usually use to light my camp fire, I blast it with a bolt of fire.  Others press the attack, just as another of the creatures bursts through. A common foe unites a make shift band.  A halfling sends one of the creature's arms flying, A woman flings vials at it. A man – playing cards? Well must be a card shark because whatever he's doing with those cards is really pissing off the thing and the bard who moments before had been entertaining the crowd was in the fray , defending the rest of the patrons who had more timid, or saner, heads. Attacks are landed, allies are restored as they're about to fall, the ad-hoc band working with each other.

 

Just as I was getting a righteous rage on at having my evening disrupted,  neatly dispatching one of the creatures with the aid of the vial flinging woman, the roof came off. Literally. Turns out that what I took for screams of agony were screams for help and Daddy had come to stomp, all two stories tall of him. Righteous rage giving way to get the hell out of here any second now.

 

Which is about the point that the bard distracts Daddy with invective that made the tips of my ears go red. The halfling uses the head of the first creature as a spring board to launch a full frontal assault of daddy, galvanizing me to desperately hurl fire to try to distract it from crushing her.  Summersaulting neatly off the creature's head, the halfling nimbly avoids the club like arm coming down from Daddy, squashing the creature below like a bug. I swear the halfling all but bowed as she landed. That's what you get for calling Daddy, bug.

 

Unfortunately, Daddy's still here and if anything angrier. Turns out these things can spawn offspring, two more creatures drop from its hideous form.  With flight no longer an option as panicked patrons flee out in the street nearly knocking us from our feet, we set to with desperation when a fireball, an actual massive fireball not to be confused with my garden variety cantrip typically used to light camp fires, explodes in the back of Daddy.

 

In short order powerful magics overwhelm Daddy and its spawn.  With the rest of the patrons having fled, I catch my  breath as our make shift band look out the crushed wall as an army led by a wizard clears the area. 

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Euan

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