Dream Journal 16-04-16
I love a good dungeon crawl. Although I prefer to live through them, last night’s dream did give me a great deal of satisfaction and made my dream worthwhile.
My name is Balkrax. Got no first name an’ got no title, just Balkrax. I’m not your average hero; onyx Lizardfolk with a tuft of white hair at my crest; alternating between dual shields and a slight smidgeon of innate magic. Everything I do I do to advance my own self-interest. It’s not that I don’t like helping people at all, I just do it because it advances my status and it If a true hero is the epitome of altruism then I cannot even come close.
I grew up in the marshlands of The Dreaded Mire. Just west of the floating Isles of Grix where magic flows through the land as its blood and its life. My tribe was the servant of one of the lesser gem dragons. To be his chosen was to be the most powerful person in all the nearby lands. I longed for this power throughout my adolescent years, obviously, I was not awarded the great honour of calling myself “Dragon Knight Belkrax” so I set up a trap for the three most likely candidates they fell for it, or rather in it nobody could make it out of the quicksand here. They travelled this path every day to the shrine yet still managed to walk into it – Lizardfolk really are stupid creatures.
At present, I am questing through the sacrificial chamber in the local shrine, there is meant to be a hidden passage out here in case we decide to take the sacrifice for ourselves instead of for the gods. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the smells of blood and fear letting the scent of madness flow through my veins. It was definitely my tribe of brutes that frequented this shrine. I continued tapping on the walls with the edge of my shield throughout the night. Eventually, I found it. A passage so dark that not even the Drow would be able to see down a tunnel this dark. Giving up any hopes of stealth, I lit a torch and walked down the stairs, shield at the ready. Pausing for a moment to better understand my surroundings, I examined the smells here. They were far different to the main chamber and the sacrificial hall. I thought that the secret tunnel was meant to be an escape route, don’t those tend to go up and out? Why is this one going deeper and deeper? Meh, stupid Lizardfolk can’t do much right anyway. Brushing off my concerns of having taken the wrong secret passage, I carried on down the passage.
Hm, what was that?
Ah, I definitely took the wrong passage. Bold and proud were the words I tried to live by. Steeling myself for combat I awaited the arrival of the impending squelcher.
Turning the corner, slowly, the monstrous beast appeared!
Wait…What? It’s a cube?
Why couldn’t it have been a minotaur or a mighty beholder that I would take all my might to vanquish! Why does it have to be a living piece of gelatine?
Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Never underestimate a Gelatinous Cube. Those things are ugly dungeons sweepers that pick off the scraps of larger creatures. It didn’t even ned to put up a fight. It came closer and closer towards me until it moved right into my space. Then it ate me. At times like this, it is both a pleasure and a curse to be one of the lizardfolk. On the one hand, we can hold our breath for about 15 minutes – 10 in my case. On the other hand, we have tough scales that make us hard to hit. Currently, this is only providing me with extreme pain as my death is prolonged long enough so that I am able to write all of this down. Did you know? A gelatinous cube can’t digest paper. Currently, I am its stomach…yes. I am being digested.
For ye who reads this, I came to this dungeon to get the power of the drag—