Tales of the Brunch Club 008 “Boughmoor”

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Welcome to Episode 8 of the Rescued by Dragons podcast: A weekly serialized recap of a homebrew Dungeons and Dragons campaign played by a group of friends in Portland, Maine.

My name is Brian Messmer and I invite you to picture yourself in a cozy, torch-lit tavern, ale in hand, gathered around a table with other listeners, waiting to hear the next chapter in the tale of… The Brunch Club.

But first, a quick recap of our previous episode…

In episode 7 The Brunch Club faced off against the basilisk that blocked their path. Vorjhon heroically tried to hold the creature’s attention while his companions dispatched it, but he failed to avert his eyes and was turned to stone by the lizard’s gaze. Salys experienced her first wild magic surge and the vibrant green energies swirled around her violently before cascading into the stone dragonborn and undoing his petrification. After making camp, The Brunch Club continued on their path through the bog, though the boardwalk they had been using as a guide had rotted away to nothingness. The group was resting in a makeshift blind where Drussilla had decided to make some fresh cranberry sauce to spice up their rations. A curious frog humanoid known as a Bullywug smelled the cooking sauce and investigated before seeing the defenseless group and attacked. Drussilla dispatched the creature with a critical blow to the creature’s head with her sauce ladle. The group then finished their rest and proceeded eastward, dealing successfully with smaller threats along the way.

And now…

Episode 8: “Boughmoor”

The Brunch Club made camp for the night and sat together on the only meager scrap of dry land they could find in the cold marshland. They glanced at each other. Vorjhon’s face was slack from exhaustion, Elora was covered in mud and filth from being parlyzed and falling into the mud. She shuddered as she remembered the feeling of being helpless, but conscious, underwater with hungry centipedes crawling over her face and nibbling her skin. Salys questioned how to control the volatile nature of her wild magic while Drussilla prayed to the Raven Queen to guide her friends through what remained of their perilous journey through the Blue Litch Bog.

There wasn’t much conversation that night as the dangerous bog had taken its toll on the group’s morale. Each member quietly hoped that their destination would not be too much further through the bog.

After a restless night the group prepared to set off the next morning, but every one of them dreaded another day of trudging through knee high (or chest high for Salys) frigid muck and muddy water. Elora kept a keen eye to track the best path through the swamp, trying to spend as much time on more or less solid ground as possible, though the thick, black mud and stench seemed to be fused to them now

Around midday Elora threw her hand up and called the group to a stop. She pointed out a tangle of plants ahead of them that seemed to take up all the clumps of solid ground.

“These look like Dew Fronds. We should stick to the water. Don’t get close to them, especially you, Salys.”

Once Elora had pointed them out, the rest of the group quickly identified the broad, red-tinged leaves as the plants the bartender in Wyhill had warned them about. She had told them the carnivorous flora had sharp, tiny barbs on their leaves that drew blood from unsuspecting travelers. The blood made them grow at an alarming rate in a deadly cycle. No one argued with the ranger’s decision as they plodded through the cold water.

After hours spent avoiding the dew fronds and getting back on course, the group finally seemed to catch a break. The ranger’s eyes spotted what started as stray wooden posts before turning into chunks of rotted bridge work. The rest of the group never doubted Elora’s skill as a ranger, but they could scarcely believe that she had successfully guided them right to the other side of the boardwalk. They hoped it would stay intact from here to the edge of the bog and lead them to relative safety.

As the Dew Fronds seemed to be thinning, both Elora and Drussilla picked up on the increasing presence of wisps of what seemed like spider silk left on the bog’s plants and grasses. Both of them knew that it meant bad news and told the rest of the group to stay alert. The exhausted dragonborn grunted in acknowledgement, and the gnome on his shoulders nodded.

The gossamer like white strands grew thicker as they progressed along the boardwalk. They considered going back into the swamp to try and avoid them but a quick reconnaissance showed them it wouldn’t be worth it. The webbing extended well into the swamp on both sides of them. If danger did indeed lurk within the webs, they decided they would rather face it on the solid footing of the boardwalk. They stayed alert and moved forward.

“Shit.” muttered Elora. “We’ve got company guys.”

She knocked an arrow and raised her bow as the rest of the group readied themselves. From the dense webbing ahead of them four giant spiders emerged. Their mandibles made a foreboding clicking sound as they nimbly crawled onto the rotted planks toward the group. The wood strained under the large arachnids’ bulk. Two of them shot thick webbing towards Salys and Drussilla, but the women were able to sidestep the attack as the silky strands shot past them into the bog.

Elora loosed her arrow into one of the spiders as two others approached Vorjhon. The arrow found its mark. The arachnid shrieked in pain. The two remaining spiders quickly closed in and lunged at them with their jaws. One of them pierced the dragonborn’s armor, sinking its fangs deep into his forearm. The silver scaled paladin grunted in pain as a wave of nausea shot through him. He could feel the spider’s venom being injected into his system. He tried to focus his mind and push through the pain.

Salys muttered a familiar incantation under her breath. Her eyes glowed green as four darts erupted from her hands and impacted the spider Elora had already wounded. The spider’s exoskeleton shattered as every missile connected with its central mass, sending it to the grave. Salys could feel the wild magic start to swirl as she calmed her mind and wrestled internally for control over her powers. While the sorceress was dispatching one of the spiders, Drusilla called a sacred light from the heavens in the name of the Raven Queen and scorched one of the spiders attacking Vorjhon, badly burning it.

Vorjhon tried to resist the spider venom coursing through his blood while he swung his warhammer at any of the three spiders that now attacked him. He felt one of the large arachnid’s bodies crunch under a few of his hammer blows. Elora’s arrows continued to find their marks but none were killing blows. Salys saw their paladin attempting to fend off a barrage of fangs and poison. She muttered an incantation again, this time letting the wild magic surge through her. With one hand she sent out her green missiles of arcane energy, with the other she conjured a cannonball-sized ball of fire and launched it at the spiders, obliterating one and injuring another.

Elora dispatched one of the remaining spiders with her hail of arrows as a coordinated assault from Drusilla and Vorjhon finished the last arachnid off. Vorjhon had taken most of the damage, but he was able to patch himself up with a prayer of healing touch.

Before they set off again, Elora quickly carved out the few remaining intact venom sacks from the dead spiders. Perhaps they’d be useful later. The party trudged on through the spider infested territory. The boardwalk sped progress up immensely and they were all thankful when they left the web entangled area of the bog behind them.

When the webs were no longer visible, they assessed their situation. They were weary. Salys, Drusilla and Vorjhon were spent from magic use and fighting and did not have the energy for many more spells that day. They decided to make camp and get some much needed rest. Vorjhon was fine with this plan as he still wasn’t back up to his full strength after being turned to stone by the basilisk.

* * *

Drusilla was the only one awake, sitting on a moss covered rock just off the boardwalk, trying to keep warm in the early winter night. Suddenly her pointed ears twitched as she heard shuffling in the stagnant water around their makeshift camp. She tightened her grip on her longsword and strained to reach her senses into the murky night. She heard the shuffling once more and then the scent hit her. The stench of death was unmistakably in the air once again. She saw two light blue glowing eyes in the darkness. The eyes of a Wight.

With a wave of her hand, Drusila called four dimly glowing orbs of silver light into being, gently floating around her. In the eerie light she saw the cold and calculating Wight. It looked like a human, gaunt from malnourishment with hair thin from death. What was left of its thin skin was pulled tight, outlining every bone in its body in ghastly relief. The creature held a cruel looking longsword with both hands and its eyes glowed in its sunken sockets. The Wight met Drusila’s gaze and stared her down. She knew these creatures didn’t normally set out on their own. She stood from her rock and raised her longsword and shield.

“Everyone get up and be prepared to fight!” her voice rang out into the night as the others scrambled to grab their weapons. The Wight bared its rotted teeth and glared at the cleric. It screeched an unintelligible command into the cold air. The wet slurp of feet dragging through mud was suddenly audible from all sides of their makeshift boardwalk camp. “It brought some friends, too.”

The group readied themselves, waiting for a trigger before diving into an attack. Vorjhon was exceedingly aware of how vulnerable he was without his armor and chose not rush into the fray. He really wanted that leather armor to sleep in, now more than ever. Drusila and the Wight continued their standoff. The light from the dim orbs danced off of the steel studs on the Wight’s black leather armor. The creatures’ boney fingers curled around the hilt of the jagged longsword. Suddenly its grip tightened and it whipped the blade upwards at the cleric with surprising speed.

Drusilla clenched her raven medallion in her fist as she calmly recited a prayer. Just as the Wight’s blade was about to strike, the final words left her lips “… force these creatures back to your ebon realm!” She thrust her medallion out in front of her and a shockwave pulsed out from her in all directions. A low thrum of energy rippled out and mixed with the call of ravens in the distance. As the energy reached the Wight, it recoiled, shrieking in pain and revulsion at the cleric. A wry smile flickered across her face as her ears picked up the sounds of five or more other zombies fleeing in terror deeper into the swamp.

The Wight raised it’s sword with hot rage burning in its cold eyes, but before it could strike, an arrow dug into its shoulder and a small ball of fire launched towards it. The creature dodged the firebolt and seemed to barely notice the arrow as it launched a series of attacks against Drusilla. The wry smile quickly fled her face and turned into a look of concentration as she focused on blocking its attacks. She grunted in pain as she felt the jagged blade snag the flesh behind her knee on the final attack.

Vorjhon readied his warhammer just as he heard sloshing behind him. He was barely able to leap out of the way as a stray zombie clumsily lunged at him. This one had apparently resisted Drusila’s death-repelling prayer. He countered, bringing his warhammer down on its skull and busied himself dispatching the stray undead, hoping his party could handle the more serious threat. He could hear the trio of adventurers fighting off the Wight while he landed blow after blow on the zombie before it fell into the murky water and finally stayed down. He turned to see the others illuminated by the dim light of Drusila’s floating orbs, as she and the Wight traded blows. Salys and Elora were peppering in ranged attacks when the openings presented themselves.

After weathering countless blows, the Wight eventually slipped it’s blade just under the bottom of Drusila’s shield. She gasped as the Wight’s longsword sunk into her chest. Pain ripped through her. The lifeless flesh of the Wight’s face stretched tight as its dead mouth twisted into a smile. Elora sunk two more arrows into it, but the creature seemed to barely notice.

“Get off her!” cried Salys, as the wild green energies swirled around her. She sent missile after missile into its chest. The magic energy erupted on contact, but the foul magic that had reanimated it kept it together as it drew the blade from Drusila’s abdomen. Blood dripped, glistening in the dim lights. The orbs that had been floating calmly began to falter and flicker. The Wight pushed Drusila to the ground and turned its attention to the gnome.

Elora loosed another arrow at its throat, but with inhuman speed, it parried the arrow with its bloodied blade. Salys felt her blood run cold as she readied another bolt of fire. She thrust her arm out and caught the creature in the shoulder. The dark leather armor bubbled and melted like human flesh. Then, a silver blur struck the Wight from the side. Vorjhon roared as he planted himself, armorless, between Salys and the Wight. With both hands he raised his warhammer above his head and shouted to his god. “Bahamut, smite this filth!”

A flash of silver light cut through the dark night, illuminating the bog for miles. A bolt of holy energy erupted from the sky, striking Vorjhon’s warhammer like lightning to a rod. The metal head of his hammer now sparked with silver energy as the paladin roared once more. His gaze shifted from Drusila to the Wight. With his back to Salys, the paladin recklessly charged the Wight, raising his hammer with both hands above his head once more. He leapt at the creature, but as he did, the already bloodied longsword lashed out cutting two deep gashes into his scaled thigh. But the dragonborn’s bulky form was already in motion and his roar grew louder. Pain and determination fueled him. His eyes locked with the two glowing sockets of the Wight’s as his holy imbued hammer connected. When hammer met skull, Vorjhon unleashed Bahamut’s wrath. The silvery energy exploded on contact with the unholy, once again illuminating the swamp with silvery light. The Wight’s skull caved under the paladin’s blow cracking like an old egg. Vorjhon felt the crunch and roared with satisfaction. The skeletal grip loosened on the jagged longsword as the now headless body crumbled to the ground. “Praised be, Bahamut,” Vorjhon whispered.

The paladin was breathing heavily, still not quite recovered from his exhaustion. He turned back to his friends and saw Elora and Salys huddled over Drusila. Vorjohn limped over, his leg wounds were deeper than he first thought in the heat of battle. Once again he cursed being caught without his armor. The gashes on his thigh wouldn’t have happened had he been clad in steel. Elora looked up at him, exasperated.

“You’re a paladin, can’t you heal her?!”

“I’m afraid I’ve already called upon Bahamut’s light as much as I can today.”

“Hang on!” Salys cut in, “I bought potions in Sturgeon! They’re in here somewhere!” She frantically dug through her bags before finding the vial she was looking for. The gnome uncorked a glass vial of thick, crimson fluid and tipped it up to Drusila’s lips. Her breathing was ragged, but she wasn’t gone yet. Salys held her still as the magic liquid flowed down Drusila’s throat and began closing her wounds. Her eyes flew open as her hands struggled to find her raven medallion. She pushed the empty potion bottle away from her face as she once again spoke to the raven queen. She put her hand on the gruesome wound on her stomach and as the prayer left her lips, an eerie light glowed around her hand, further closing the gash. Drusila pulled herself into a sitting position before spying what was left of the Wight.

“I’m going to loot the shit out of him.” she said, pushing herself to her feet. She found a few coins in a rotted purse on its belt. She clearly was not satisfied with her find, and went to go see if maybe the zombie Vorjhon wrestled with had anything better to offer.

To her surprise, it did. There was a medallion around its neck resting in the muck with its former owner. It was a simple sun made of sterling. It seemed like something odd for a stray zombie to be wandering around with, but she rejoined the group and told them about her find before tucking it away. She also healed Vorjhon’s wounds so he’d stop complaining so loudly and they could all try to at least get some sleep that night.

As the cold winter sun illuminated the mist hanging low in the swamp, the Brunch Club wiped the sleep from their eyes . Drusila and Salys reminisced on the days that seemed so long ago when they weren’t fighting biting cold, giant bugs, poisonous everything and tiptoeing along a creaky, rotted board walk. Still, another day meant another day (hopefully) closer to the end of The Bitch Bog.

They continued east. The group kept a keen eye out to try to avoid the dangers of the bog that they’d become all too familiar with. The hours churned on. The early winter sun had finally burned off the mist that clung to the murk of the bog around midday. They walked along the boardwalk with only a few mishaps of Vorjhons bulk causing a board to give up and break underneath him. Eventually Elora could see the dark smudge of a forest on the eastern horizon. This news immediately boosted the group’s morale. The end was in sight. Their pace quickened as they traveled with renewed vigor onwards through the bog.

Almost as quickly as their spirits lifted, they plummeted as Elora called an immediate halt. She pointed just off the boardwalk on the southern edge, towards what looked to be just another soggy lump of land in the bog murk. Almost on cue the soggy lump rose in the water and the four foot head of a giant crocodile rose out of the swamp, before returning to its place below the water’s surface.

The group retreated back the way they came to come up with ideas. The creature was huge and its position alongside the boardwalk meant it could lash out and snatch an unsuspecting, or even a suspecting passerby off the boardwalk and into the bog. Vorjhon suggested the idea of just taking a wider berth around the creature, through the swamp and off the boardwalk, but that idea was quickly shot down.

“But it just creature. We leave it alone, it leave us alone. No sense killing innocent creature.” Vorjhon argued.

“Godsdamnit Vorjhon! The only reason it hasn’t tried to kill us is because we saw it before getting near it.” Drusila snapped. “It’s a predator and it’s hunting. I say we try to take it out from afar. Then we can turn it into boots, and if you don’t like it, I’ll make a matching pair out of you.”

Not feeling like being turned into boots, Vorjhon held his tongue. While he didn’t totally agree, the cleric wasn’t completely wrong. Plus, the idea of trudging through the bog into who knows what other dangers didn’t exactly appeal to him. He was just starting to feel back to full strength again, the last thing he wanted was to run into another basilisk.

“Fine. We do your way,” he conceded.

Drusila had Vorjhon crouch in front of the group and prepare his shield. He couldn’t help but notice that even though it wasn’t his plan, he was still the one that stood between the imminent danger and the rest of the group. Elora, Salys, and Drusila stood behind the silver paladin. Drusila and Salys readied their magics as Elora knocked an arrow. The wood elf calmed herself and drew back on her bowstring, bringing the feather fletching to the corner of her mouth. She took aim at the unsuspecting giant crocodile. At this distance she had to aim up almost thirty degrees to get the range she needed. It was still strange to her how she couldn’t think about it, she just had to trust her instincts. She couldn’t remember training, but she knew her muscle memory would guide the arrow home.

She released the arrow, the fletching nicked her cheek as it sailed towards it’s target. Elora was already drawing and knocking another arrow. A small smile of satisfaction crept across her face as the first arrow hit home. She saw the massive beast whip around trying to find what would be stupid enough to hunt the hunter. She loosed her second arrow.

The huge crocodile’s ancient eyes locked onto the group. It dipped under the surface and began to swim the 600 feet or so towards them, trying to cover the distance as quickly as it could. The only thing it cared about now was crushing the thing that was hurting it in it’s immense jaws. Another arrow pierced it’s scaled back and two more splashed into the water near it as it swam towards The Brunch Club.

Elora’s keen eyes tracked her prey as it raced towards them. As soon as it was within range, Drusila and Salys unleashed their own spells. Salys launched her magic missiles as Drusila unleashed her bolt of silvery energy, striking out and blowing off a chunk of the huge crocodile. The silver energy seemed to infest the creature, causing its weak points to pulse and glow, highlighting them. Elora adjusted her aim and sunk an arrow into one of the glowing weak spots, slowing the bulky crocodile down slightly. It had closed over half the distance towards the party. Vorjhon tightened his grip on his shield and hammer. The crocodile approached one of the broken sections of boardwalk, launching itself onto the rotted wood. Boards creaked and snapped under its massive weight. Vorjhon took a few paces towards it as his friends continued to buffet it from afar, puncturing it’s scales and tearing chunks of crocodile meat from its body. It had rage burning in it’s eyes as it lunged at Vorjhon. The paladin closed his eyes and braced for impact, tensing his whole body. He felt something contact his shield, and peaked through a single open eye. He saw massive teeth frame the top and bottom of his kiteshield powered by jaws the size of his arm, but he stared into lifeless eyes.

The coordinated assault tore through the creatures’ rage fueled body, snuffing the Giant Crocodile out of existence just as it had reached him. He was thankful the powerful creature was handled so swiftly before it could harm him or his friends.

Drusila immediately requested Elora skin the creature, for boots, obviously. The ranger agreed. They had probably just dispatched what was most likely the biggest threat for a mile or two and they could see the edge of the bog. They could probably take some time to get a trophy from their kill without too much worry. At least, Elora hoped that was the case. Elora went to skinning the crocodile hide, requisitioning Drusila’s help since it was her idea.

The dirty deed was almost completed and they had a huge crocodile hide more or less intact. Hours had passed, but the group had decided if they could fetch a pretty penny for it in the next town it’d be well worth their time. Then the hairs on the back of the non-scaled necks pricked up and a cold tingle ran down all their spines. That voice from the first night in the bog, the one that haunted them on the swirling mists, was laughing at them. A low haunting laugh carried to them on the light breeze. Elora looked south in the direction it was coming from. She held a blood covered hand up to her brow to block the light of the late afternoon sun. Her heart skipped a beat. Far to the south she spotted huge black wings unfurling as the unmistakable sight of a dragon was silhouetted against the sky.

“We have to go now. Take what hide we can and let’s get the hell out of this swamp.” Elora said as she hastily began finishing the job. The group quickly agreed, they certainly did not want to have this bog journey end with them being a snack for a black dragon. At least now they were pretty sure who the voice they heard during their first night in the bog belonged to.

The party hastily fled the bog, not wanting to push their luck further than they already had. They reached the edge of the woods, but none of them let out a sigh of relief just yet. In the dense woods Elora felt back at home and was able to guide them along the remnants of a path. The sun was low in the sky when they finally saw the rough wood wall that surrounded the town of Boughmoor. A groggy guard nearly jumped out of his armor, seeing the party of gnome, dragonborn and elves, covered in muck and gore, approach from the bog. He quickly directed them to the Laughing Pine Lodge where they found cheap rooms and a place to lay their things. The moment they had a roof over their head again, the group nearly wept with joy. They made it through The Blue Litch Bog more or less intact.

But before they could rest there were a few things left to be taken care of. They had a fresh hide and venom sacs to trade, their lives to celebrate, and ale to drink. Asking around town the group found out the location of the local druid, Ulrich, and they were able to strike a bargain with him for the hide, netting them 20 gold and a basic healing potion. During the transaction Ulrich seemed to eye Salys with concern and asked her if she was feeling alright. She said she was a bit tired but waved off any more concern.

The party headed to the Cold Boulder Tavern to celebrate with many rounds of drinks. The locals were running a game of darts and Elora, spotting a handsome man in the competition, decided to join in. Obviously, being a natural deadeye, she swept the competition, cooly beating out Scott, the handsome man. The group celebrated holding onto their lives in their own ways, mostly with drink, but for Elora, she celebrated with Scott. Or at least she tried. He smoothly pointed out she was still covered in bog and that he’d be delighted to get to know her better, but only if she’d bathe first. Her cheeks flushed red, barely visible through the bog refuse still on her face. Pride somewhat intact, the party made their way back to their rooms after calling it an early night at the tavern.

After baths and beds the group woke up refreshed the next morning, except for Salys. The gnome made her way to the paladin’s room, complaining about not feeling great. She had aches and pains and her eyes felt crusty. The moment she saw the look on Vorjhon’s face, she knew something wasn’t quite right. His face immediately contorted into a look of revulsion and concern. He tried to politely inform his friend that she seemed to be bleeding from the eyes.

Skipping brunch, the whole group rushed Salys to Ulrich to see if he could help her. The druid quickly diagnosed it as eye rot, something people can contract from over exposure to stagnant water. He sent Vorjhon and Elora into the woods to fetch him eyebright mushrooms, the last ingredient he needed to make a potion that should help Salys fight the Eye Rot off. Elora recognized the fungus Ulrich described and was able to quickly harvest some and return to the druid’s hut in under an hour. Drusilla stayed with Salys and tried some of her healing magics. She didn’t quite have the power to cure her friend of this disease, but she wanted to at least try to help. She couldn’t in good conscience just sit around and do nothing. Salys was feverish and a little delirious by the time Elora made it back, but was able to consume the thick potion UIrich had concocted for her.

The druid instructed her to rest and for the party to keep an eye on her to make sure she was improving. The gnome quickly succumbed to her weariness and fell asleep on the cot in the Druids cozy cottage. While Salys was sleeping, Drusila and Vorjhon discussed goings on in Boughmoor while Elora went to prepare herself for her date with Scott. Ulrich informed Drusila and Vorjhon that Maria, the wife of a trapper in town, had been distraught for nearly a week since her husband disappeared after hunting near the edge of the bog. He usually wore a sun pendant that Maria had given him and that it could be used to identify him. Drusila’s face turned into a frown as she pulled a similar pendant from her pocket, the pendant they had found on a zombie two nights ago. She let out a heavy sigh before asking for directions to Maria’s house.

* * *

Drusila waited patiently after knocking on the door. A part of her hoped Maria wasn’t home and she could just say she tried to do a good deed instead. Her heart fell as the door creaked open slightly. She could see a woman about her own height, but with tangled brown hair standing before her. The woman’s face was creased with worry lines. Drusila held her hand out with the pendant and apologized, handing the necklace over to Maria. She informed the distraught woman that her group had found her husband’s corpse while trekking through the bog. She decided to leave out the servitude to a Wight in his undeath to ease the pain for Maria. Still, something seemed like it finally snapped within Maria as she heard the Cleric’s story. Her face turned to horror and then rage as she accused Drusila of murdering her husband. The cleric back pedaled a few steps, taken aback by Maria’s accusations. Thankfully, in her rage Maria slammed the door in Drusila’s face. The elf could still hear wailing sobs of the woman whose worst fears had just come true. There wasn’t much more Drusilla could do for the poor woman. Try as she might, she could not heal grief.

Drusila took her time walking back to the Laughing Pine Lodge, slowly walking through the small, sleepy, forest-town, peering up at the stars through the tree cover. She went to her room and checked to see who else was there. As she walked by Saly’s room she saw her small friend sleeping, swaddled up in blankets with the large dragonborn watching over her. Elora was still out with Scott for the night. At least one of The Brunch Club was having a nice first night back in civilization, she thought. Drusila locked eyes with Vorjhon. They held a long, wordless look at each other. Both of them wore solemn expressions. Vorjhon gave her the slightest of nods before turning his gaze back to the softly snoring Salys. Drusila made her way to her own room and snuffed out her bedside candle, plunging the mostly bare room into darkness. She sat cross legged on her bed, and said a familiar prayer to The Raven Queen, hoping the raven queen would hear her.

This story will continue next week in Episode 9.

Episode 8 was written by Brian Messmer with help from Dominic White.

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Thank you very much for listening Please join us next week to find out, along with the rest of us, what‘s going to happen next!