Day 11: The party is preparing to depart Szith Morcane and begin our perilous journey to Maerimydra.

These lizards stink. How is it that we're supposed to ride these foul beasts for 150 miles? I can't even seem to stay on mine, as neither can Grim… or is it Kane? I keep mixing those two up. Bah, all archers are the same, anyway. Everyone laughs at us as we keep getting bucked off; especially that damned Malark. I'll have to keep my eye on that one.

The going is slow, thanks to the rough terrain and the poor light provided by our hooded lanterns. Actually, the lighting issue did provide one brief moment of humor as young Malcer attempted to lash his everburning torch to the head of his lizard! The party hooted and howled with laughter as the beast reared and bucked away from him; Malcer seemed suitably impressed with this display and decided he would be best served to borrow someone's lantern.

The first day of our new journey in the Underdark seemed to pass uneventfully, although along the way we encountered forks in the cavern that did not appear on the map. With no worthy guidance spells and no help whatsoever from the Drow former Cleric accompanying us, we opted to flip a coin in order to choose direction -- I hope we went the right way. I shouldn't have expected any help from the former cleric of Lolth - she has been loathe to answer any questions, and seems to claim no knowledge of anything! How can one be so dense? We have just located a place to camp for the evening - which is well-earned, after eight hours (and approximately eight miles) on lizardback. My posterior will never fit a horse saddle again. Thank Torm, this area looks defensible! It's a nice, large cavern with only one apparent entrance. As we prepare to bed down for the evening Randall and Evendur are setting up for nightwatch. Darvin is settling the beasties down for the night, with little success. I don't think it's wise to attempt the hand-feeding of a Male Riding Lizard - Darvin would do well to remember that tomorrow.

I am well-exhausted from the day's journey; I must thank Torm for our safe journey thus far. I hope to dream of far fairer places, such as sweet Halruaa, or anyplace topside, for that matter.

By the gods! Someone just kicked me in my ribs. I look up to see Evendur trying to wake me with his foot as he helps Malcer don his armor. As I rise and my eyes begin to adjust to the light, I can just make out Randall standing near the back wall of the chamber, as a purple worm blasts through the stone with a loud rumble and crash. The beast is fearsome, more handspans long than I could ever count, and coiled - as if ready to strike - bearing down upon my Liege's head.

Randall immediately takes a swipe at the fell creature, and Dyrnwyn slices into flesh, it's flaming blade boiling the hide away and leaving an acrid smell in its wake. Torm defend! I must act quickly to aid Randall, before the beast snaps him up into his monstrous jaws. I move forward to obtain a clear path for casting of a party favorite, my Polymorph spell. As I begin the intricate hand gestures, tracing delicate patterns in the air the giant worm streaks forward and slams down, jaws agape, over my entire body! In an instant I am deep within the great worm, struggling against swallowed stones that threaten to grind me to pulp before the acid can devour me. While my body is racked with pain, my mind is roiling with spellcasting energy as I struggle to maintain my concentration - a spell gone awry in these close quarters would certainly spell my doom. What, pray tell, could the consequences be of casting a polymorph from inside a creature? I don't really want to find out, just now. I must do something, as I have naught the time to act again, and this beast shall surely digest me within mere moments. In my anguish I cried out "Torm, aid me!" and could only hope that here, in the bowels of the Underdark, that my prayer would be heard.

Suddenly the very remnants of air around me began to crackle with the blue lightnings of magic as I found my spell changing, shifting, even as I cast it. No longer was I casting a polymorph spell; now I was tapping into the weave for teleportation! Praise Torm that here in this accursed place, surrounded by teleport-inhibiting faerzress, I was able to teleport from within the belly of the beast to a place in the room near where I slept. The injuries I sustained from the creature have drained me, and as I materialize in the room I collapse into a heap on the ground. I must gather my strength before I can cast again; someone else will have to fight yon beastie for now.Malark seems to be preoccupied with donning his armor, so it won't be he. Who then? Aha! Evendur is striding toward the beast with blood in his eye. A capable Ranger, Evendur surely can accomplish what I could not. I watch in shock as Evendur circles around the beast and begins his attack; wave after wave of crushing blow comes from his mighty bastard sword as the great worm shrieks in pain. In reward for the Ranger's valiant efforts, the beast encircles his gaping jaws around Evendur, swallowing him whole as he did me only moments before. Evendur is much stronger than I; however, no one could last long in there. I silently pray to Torm that we will survive this encounter. Grim, our proud archer, levels his bow and unleashes the fury of hell itself; arrow after arrow sinks into the raging horror that stands before us. Kane rapidly follows suit and I find myself thinking, "Where exactly is Evendur in there?".

My attention is diverted from the writhing creature by something shadowy and fast coming into view. Why, it's Darvin, executing his famous 'cartwheel charge' with such speed and grace that it would instill awe in times not of battle. As it stands, only the cavern walls have time to be suitably impressed. If they are, they don't show it though.

Darvin comes out of his cartwheel and buries his rapier in the worm up to the hilt, twisting and plunging simultaneously. Shuddering, the massive beast releases a cry that shakes the very cavern walls around us as it begins to slump forward, collapsing to the ground under it's great weight. Darvin has killed the beast! How is it that he has perfected the art of felling the largest creatures with the smallest of blades? My thoughts turn from wondering to watching as Randall quickly makes his way to a spot midway along the creature's body where a writhing, contorted, human (or Ranger) sized lump is wriggling about.

Working with deft speed and great precision, Randall carefully cuts an opening large enough to cause Evendur to spill forth. Well, for all his time in the worm, he doesn't look that bad. I'm sure his wounds and mine will be nothing for Malcer the Magnificent to heal in mere moments.

With the great battle behind us and only two hours' of sleep under our collective belts, we must bed down once again and attempt to get some rest. Aye, rest indeed - if I'm to have my full compliment of spells in the morning. Fortunately, it appears as though the rest of the night was uneventful, as I have awoken to find everyone breaking camp and preparing the pack lizards for travel. Darvin - that crazy thief - is busy juggling to impress his riding lizard, who seems to be more interested in snacking on him than watching him toss things into the air. I really must talk to him about that.

With the freshness of rest in our minds and food in our bellies, we mount our riding lizards to make way. That is, some of us mount our lizards. Others, namely Grim (or was it Kane?) and myself, seem to have a problem getting in the saddle. When this adventure is over, I am never riding another lizard. Ever.

Finally, we're underway, picking our way through the jagged peaks and crevices that make up the Underdark. We're greeted by another fork in the cavern and using the same great divining method, we flip a coin and choose our direction. Wait, what's this? There must have been a great struggle here. The walls are drenched with blood; the ground even more so. Over there! Is that a body? It appears to be a Dwarf... The body, already stripped of all armor, weapons, and clothing, is rolled over and - Gods! Torm protect! Four large holes appear to have been bored into his skull, and a great portion of the top of his head is missing. Oh, Torm deliver us. What are we heading off blindly into? Mighty Malcer makes an attempt to Raise Dead, but nothing happens. Did this poor soul suffer so that he would rather remain dead than return among the living? Malcer asked our Drow guest if she had any insight to this, but as with all things, she seems to merely shrug her shoulders in response. Torm forgive, I'm beginning to see her as so much dead weight.

Further along our passage, our Ranger has discovered tufts of fur stuck to the walls. I cannot begin to imagine what terrors await us as we travel along in this gods-rejected place. After many more hours of travel I have developed an intense desire to sleep. My lizard seems to echo that sentiment, as his steps seem to come ever slower. I fear we may be coming closer to the Lake of Shadows, as the air has become moist and signs of life are fading. The cavern seems to taper down ahead, and - gods deliver - we must dismount and belly-crawl through this small space. The hissing and tugging of the reigns behind me indicate that my lizard is less than happy about moving along so slowly with a wizard's rump in his face. Emerging in a larger cavern, we perform a quick survey of possible encampments. Someone spots a large ledge above our heads, one that our lizards can make it up without considerable effort. Upon arrival at the ledge, it becomes apparent that we're not the first party to camp in this place - there is refuse all about. As what passes for night settles in, I watch Darvin get headbutted by his annoyed lizard. Did I forget to talk to him about something?

Yet another night passes uneventfully, and once more we're on our way. My archer friend and I both seem a little more adept at mounting our lizards this time. I suppose we're becoming familiar with these beasts - blast!

A short distance ahead we encounter a large, open chamber- but what's that horrible noise? It sounds as though a guttural growl and laughter are mixing together, sprinkled with sickening thuds that seem to shake the dust from the ceiling. Looking up into the room, we can see nothing but stone. Malcer attempts to detect any magic there may be, and finds none. Randall casts a wary gaze upon it and finds no evil, either. Where are these sounds coming from? Is it an echo? Is it, wait, it's a ledge, right above us. Whatever is making these sounds must be above us on a ledge overlooking the chamber. It appears that there path ramps up slightly ahead. Our honorable thief, Darvin, volunteers to check it out. He slinks forward silently; so quiet in fact that though we watch as he moves away, we hear nothing. He slowly makes his way up the rise and into the room, just beyond our sight. I have such a sickening feeling about this place; I now fear for our dear thief's very life. Hopefully he will return soon, in good health - and with news.