[garrison]

Ung! Ung! All praise Unglaublich Verwustung, leader of the small-folk, bane of the tall-folk, most beneviolent benefiber, and dementor of the faith. Your generosity is without inhibition, oh stinky loincloth one.

In what could only be decried as an ungcanny lapse of judgment were Ung not an exalted divinely immoral being, Ung showed the aristocratic ogliophrenia characteristic of superior inbreeding when he donated both Twinkle and Icingdeath so I could most arrogantly build Drizzt Do'Urden in Undermountain.

After an intense two day training seminar (F5, Ra7, WM28) Drizzt ventured into the Hall Of Dragonkin eschewing henchmen, after all, what is Icingdeath if not a dragon killer? Within minutes of our hero's entry, Ancient Red dragons were being split like fiery putrid piñatas. One after another enraged serpents and half-dragon sorcerers violently opposed valiant Drizzt's well meant redecorating efforts; alas, not everyone can appreciate the aesthetic value of entrail wainscoting.

Anon, the interior design dispute was resolved when none but Drizzt and Raga'Veross stood in the Hall. Fie, fie! The eldritch blade well drenched in vile wyrmblood proved hardly a nuisance to Raga'Veross, Regent of Rankor. Harkening tales told, the intrepid Ranger considered one credible claim of this creature's vulnerability... bearing scars and loot to prop up his story, a rogue elf bragged that he, in the unglikely company of a belligerent loincloth (and it's diminutive host), had survived the Hall by deducing that, contrary to common counsel, the beast bears a certain susceptibility to those practiced in the ars arcanum. To wit: in reinforcing resistance to select magics, the ophidian oaf has left itself open to other evocations.

Whipping out his drow trinket, Drizzt flashed it at the bellowing brute and released the magic within; a fiery roundure ringed the rabid rat-snake, then detonated a hellacious fulmination of searing force which knocked the dazed demon-spawn to the floor. Surely clouds of confusion were sundered as sharp streaks of steely strife slid beneath a scaly hide and bit into soft, turgid flesh. Roaring with rage, the bellicose behemoth lunged at the audacious adventurer, malevolent eyes blackened with primal hatred. Festooned in the blinding baubles of pain and fury, the hapless hulk scarcely registered the second blazing ball of whoop-ass as it once more wrought destruction upon the wretched wyrm.

It wasn't long ere the corpse of the vapid viper lay oozing offal all over our intrepid conqueror's trollskin boots; perhaps, he mused, he was imprudent to slay the lunatic rakshasa mageling which tried to barter mercy for something it called "naugahyde".