The leading female Dwarf Warrior swung her axe, smashing a corpse puppet, then turned and growled, "Quick, run northeast! Head to the earth vein tunnel beneath the stone tomb!"
Adrian recognized the emblem on their breastplates: the Dragon Tooth Dwarf Tribe of the Cold Iron Mine—a race once enslaved by the Dragon Worship Cult, now allies of the Rebel Army.
He gritted his teeth, waded through the filthy mud, and staggered northward, with the shrill cries of the Servant Monk from behind: "Do you dare defy the will of the Dragon Queen? Lord of the Rot Swamp will crush you..."
Before the words were finished, a deafening roar echoed from the depths of the swamp, and a massive, sinister figure emerged from the mist.
"This is..."
A Mature Green Dragon over twenty meters long tore through the fog, its scales like rusty copper coins, spewing acidic breath that turned the surrounding vegetation into smoldering ashes.