The morning mist was heavy.  It swirled around the massive trunks of the forest trees.  A drop of dew that had pooled on a leaf high above in the forest canopy dripped over the edge of his helmet and onto Draven’s brow, carrying a lock of long dark hair into his steely, blue eye.  He brushed it aside as he peered through the thick mist.  There it was again!  Whatever it was, it was massive, and it moved slowly through the brush.  Draven looked to his right where Valen, his golden-eyed, Fetterine Elven friend stood behind a fallen trunk, brandishing a finely hewn short bow and arrow.  Valen nervously tugged at the string on his bow, and looked back at Draven with trepidation.  To Draven’s left stood Ganrog, the dwarven brute, his long black beard covering the handle of his great battle-axe as he clutched it to his chest.  He thought how strange it was, that he, a Human, had come to travel on this quest with these unlikely companions.

Skulls that lay on the path ahead, obscured by the swirling mist, foreshadowed a deadly presence.   More drops of dew clanked off Draven’s platemail, seeming to echo harshly through the forest.  He watched a bead of water make a trail down the breast plate of his armor, passing over the blue sword emblazoned into the metal; the symbol of his Clade.  He wondered if this seemingly cacophonous sound would give away their position.  Was the unseen creature using this sound to hone in on them?

Sticks and branches that littered the forest floor snapped under the weight of the approaching beast.  Whatever it was, it was close.  Draven gripped the ruby-studded handle of his long sword and slowly removed it from its sheath.  Then a loud roar erupted from the mist in front of them and the ground rumbled as the rushing monster emerged from the dim morning haze.  Its ominous yellow eyes glowed eerily against its deep-brown, leathery skin.  It displayed a mouth full of sharp, yellow teeth as it roared, saliva stretching between them like a net.

The beast dashed toward them on two tremendous legs, pulling itself between the trees with its muscular arms, and its long alligator-like tail dragged heavily through the leaves, sticks and branches blanketing the ground.  Valen let fly with an arrow and then effortlessly reloaded and fired again.  The beast howled as the two arrows pierced its leathery hide, yet it continued onward undaunted.  Ganrog bellowed a war cry, raised his bladed battle-axes high in the air, and rushed toward the beast.  Draven dashed after him, platemail clanging and sword upraised.  As he ran forward into battle, Draven wondered what fate would hold for him and his companions... Would they live to see another moonlit night in the Mortal Realms?