Beshabas breath! We have awoken this morning in an icy prison cell, stripped of our clothes and belongings, disfigured and disarmed, but not deceased, thanks to Lady Doom, who has decided to spare our lives… for now. As we gathered scraps of cloth and fur to cover ourselves, our fellowship shared vague memories of cold, clammy hands carrying our bodies to this place. We began to discuss our escape options, trying to conceive the quietest way to break free, when a giant ice toad approached, bringing a bowl of gruel to our cell, muttering insults in Draconic, according to Gunx.
Once the toad guard left, I quickly and quietly melted the icy door open with my Burning Hands, and together our fellowship crept into a large cavern: a barracks for a number of giant toads. Sure enough, we found more than a dozen toad scribes, busy with their nerdish work. One of the toads spotted Tolarin, and let out a sudden croak, so I suddenly cloaked their chamber in Darkness, to stymie their next move while we planned ours. Gunx approached the edge of the Darkness, and a toad popped out a curiously behatted head, beseeching Gunx in Draconic to “wait for Maccath”.
Hesitant to slay these intelligent beasts, we relented, and returned to our cells. The toad with the hat, Marfulb, brought more furs for our comfort. Again, he had a message for Gunx in the Draconic tongue: “No cause trouble. STAY. Maccath has offer.” Since we all needed a good night’s sleep to recover from our exhaustion, we accepted Marfulb’s advice, faithful that this is all part of the grand plan of the Maid of Misfortune, and we are all merely her obedient pawns, klaatu barada nikto amen.