This adventure is part of TSR 9386 FRM1 - The Jungles of Chult
Lord Onovan of the Dales stumbled through the underbrush, his clothes in tatters, his body aching from a tenday in the jungle. The food was gone; the water, too. The last of the bearers had fled hours ago, leaving him nothing but the tunic on his hack and the sword in his hand.
Through the lush curtain of vines and broad-leafed plants surrounding Onovan came the ominous sound of Batiri war drums. He glanced up at the thick canopy high overhead. The sun was going down. The goblins would be after him soon. The howling packs would trail him like bloodhounds through the jungle until the sun drove them into hiding again.
Panic closed around his heart like a stone giants fist, crushing his dreams of escape. The goblins had killed Kadir Silveraxe and Ryn the Bold as if they'd been stripling warriors, not experienced sellswords. And if stout warriors like them were no match for the Batiri, what hope did a gentleman explorer like Onovan have?
That grim thought flew from the explorers mind as he pushed through a tangle of saw-leafed vines. The creature lurking there in wait for him was huge, at least as tall as a two-story building. Splashes of browns and greens covered the beasts scaly hide, perfectly masking its bulk against the jungle.
A dinosaur! Onovan noted in fearnumbed awe, just before the allosaurus snapped him in two with its powerful jaws and row after row of daggerlike teeth.
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