The Cave of Triumph and Terror

22nd of Flamerule:
 
As I write this my breath comes heavy, my heart pounds rapidly, and I feel pride swelling in me at the marvel that has just occurred. We just finished a desperate battle – one that I freely admit I did not expect to be able to tell tale of. But, I am getting ahead of myself.
This morning brought a hazy sunrise, owing I think to our proximity to the woods. It also brought another stag for us to take to the camp.
 
Rhumor went out ahead with the intent to skirt the perimeter of the camp up top, and we entered through the main trail. Shock hit us all as the camp came into view. More than half of the encampment had been burned to the ground. There were a few hunters milling about, and the provisions quartermaster was still there, but the camp was almost entirely abandoned. We learned that shortly after we left they gathered most of their things, and headed off, North by Northwest. A few remained behind and were operating out of the cave. Cyanwrath’s tent remained, but upon inspection it too had been emptied. This left us with the dread option of entering the cave. I’m not overfond of caves. Bad things tend to happen in caves.
 
With the Wood Elf in the lead, carefully picking his way in, we entered. There were a couple of cultist officers not too far into the entrance, and we had planned to surprise them and take them out before an alarm could be raised. Rhumor snuck off to eliminate the most distant of the pair. I know not what went wrong, but wrong it went. As our element of surprise melted away Grok charged right in, perhaps a bit overzealously, for while he menaced the cultist, he was unable to actually hurt him. Our initial encounter here would have been comical in how poorly executed it was were it not for the danger this posed us, and the portent of more dire things to come. We did, in the end, manage to kill off the two cultists without attracting any undue attention.
 
Proceeding on, Rhumor spotted a cleverly hidden passage that doubled back toward the cave entrance on one side. Upon investigation we found more cultists, and some guards. Once again we decided to attempt a surprise attack, and then funnel them through the narrow passage. Once again our element of surprise vanished. What foul luck has befallen us? This time I could hear it though, as Rhumor inadvertently kicked a rock, drawing the attention of the cultists inside. A rather feverish fight ensued where Rhumor was knocked unconscious and we struggled to keep effective ranged combat in the tight passage. The turning point was when Conrad brought our Wood Elf back to reality, who then dropped caltrops all across the passageway. Nearly all of the cultists and guards who came after us were stopped in their tracks from the caltrops giving us ample time to pick them off. Inside this larger chamber where the raiders had been, there were a score of beds, along with a note, some maps, and one tiny side chamber that was far more lavishly appointed. Whose is that I wondered? Certainly not anyone we had yet run across.
 
Yet another disguised passage presented itself, being rather apparent since it clearly used to be covered by a rug, which had been hastily tossed aside. Marvelous. Someone knows we are here and has run off to warn others. Following the path down we found ourselves in a larger cavern with enormous reliefs of dragons, including Tiamat, and a shrine. Most of the dragons appeared to be black dragons, which gives me pause. Lennithon is a blue, and Cyanwrath is a half-blue… why would the preponderance of these be black? Who is here, or hopefully who was here that would have been more kin to a black dragon? Perhaps the hatchery we learned of are of a black dragon? If that is the case, can we destroy it?
 
These ponderings had to wait. Just as I was mulling over these thoughts, heavy bootfalls echoed through the chamber. And there he was again. The enormous blue warrior that had felled Grok not 3 days past. Cyanwrath had 3 large warriors with him, berserkers by the look of them. Half congratulating and half mocking our half-orc companion on surviving the first encounter the half-dragon challenged Grok to one-on-one combat again, ordering his men to kill the rest of us.
 
As Grok raced toward the monstrous warrior, I brought forth 3 mirror images of myself, in hopes of confusing the berserkers, while also cursing one them. The first, whom I had cursed, did not fall for the ruse, his great axe digging into my armor. I managed a solid hit in return, as did Rhumor, and Nuri – and still this man stands! Another round of strikes and still the warrior stands, though barely it would seem. We desperately needed to eliminate these three so we could lend aid to Grok. Nuri began casting from both hands simultaneously. I was dodging every which way I could, and finally the berserkers began to struggle to discern which was the real me. I tried using Hadar’s tentacles to slow them down, but the effect was very minimal. Unfortunately all too quickly they eliminated my duplicate images – I would be defenseless soon. Is that mooing I hear? Really? They have cows down here? No time to think about that. After the first berserker was downed the other two fell into a rage, and began attacking wildly. Nuri continued pumping twinned lightning at them, and when my last duplicate vanished I took one last slash at my opponent and then teleported away, praying that the semi-ethereal state would hold long enough for this warrior to miss me. It worked! In his rage he ignored Nuri and ran for me, and as he wildly swung his great axe it passed right through me, harmlessly. About this time I saw Conrad fall having taken an axe to the chest. Then Rhumor finished off the warrior in front of me. I saw Nuri rush to Conrad, reviving him. Then my great fear – Cyanwrath, enraged by the deaths of his three berserkers, unleased his lightning. It wracked through Grok’s body and coursed through Conrad, just barely missing me altogether. I know not how, but both of my companions still stood, though clearly they were hurting badly. Conrad and his little fiery companion managed a small amount of damage to the half-dragon, and then Grok plunged his sword deep into Cyanwrath, felling the enormous warrior.
 
And here, with heavy breath, rapid heartbeats, and pride swelling do I write about the events leading up to the desperate battle that brought about the death of Langdedrosa Cyanwrath. As I gaze over at my companions I can see they are depleted. I have little left myself now. While impressed with our success, I fear for us still. Cyanwrath may have been the most dangerous creature in this cave, but I am certain whatever remains here that was worth the half-dragon staying behind for has more protection still, and likely from foes more formidable that a few cultists. My eyes flitted over to the reliefs carved into the cavern walls, at all of those black dragons, and I shudder at the thought of facing another dragonkin. If we make it out of here, I should ask the monk if he has come across any black dragonkin during his investigations. As I scrawl these notes I pray we find a place to take some rest before venturing further into this cave.