Chapter 1: Going Ashore

"Oh fer the fury of the buried gods," the horse voice screamed crashing from the underbrush. "Could ya be quite and stop all that belching?"

Almost missing the boat, barely remembering the pirates, left behind in the departure, and lost for almost a day, the dwarf Ygwaz Igwine lacked something his race always thrived on- blind (darkvision) luck that let them see into mountains and spot gold.

For an odd reason, Ywaz never had that, and for that reason he covered himself in protective plate mail. But now look at him, in the blasted jungle, the sun boiling and distilling the mead and ale from his flesh. Drunkenly he followed the party, hoping it was actually his party and spat something more like rubber than water. He passed out when the party turned in, planting his axe in the ground. Hoping the vibration of any conflict sprang him into action. And somehow, of all the times the buried gods had ignored him he had woken to the belching of something.

What could have made that infernal sound, that sound that brought him back from the brink of a nothing long brewing in his skull since he boarded that damned ship. So sick was he that he barely remembered the voyage, his companions, or even his enemies (would anyone sing songs of glory if there was nothing to remember?).

So this unlucky dwarf, who owed his dwindled fortune more to horse-breeding and agriculture (both disgusting trades among his kind) gripped his battle axe and punched his rune- encrusted armor and ran shouting toward the croaking that woke him up.

"I'll shover yer belchin' down yer throat," he shouted again. "Damn island of skeeters and croakers!"

Seeing the sheer number of these odd frogs Mordak cannot refrain from having a small shiver.
"These are just frogs, a bit bigger and hungrier thats all... Let's see if I can remove some of them from the equation"

Knowing full well that he is the only one clad in armor, Rewis stands tall, his silvered mace at the ready. He moves himself between the frogs and the more magic-focused characters (Mordak for example), bashing the first beast that comes to range.

Irofaen leaps at the nearest frog, swinging her longsword in a high arc onto it.