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Welcome to Iaryn Under Dome today is
Marktag the 18th of Pflugzeit, 2505
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Perfect Conditions for Blood Bowl, neither too cold nor too hot. It's a warm, dry and slightly overcast day.
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I have never faced a dragon, but I cannot see how one could be any worse than the Hydra I fought. It was enormous, each head more than capable of biting a man in half or swallowing him whole down one of its long snaky necks. I was fighting for a Merchant Prince of Verezo, one of Tilea's grand cities and we'd been forced to cross through a swamp on the way to an engagement with one of the prince's rivals. I suspect it was only bad luck that we came upon the Hydra. It didn't roar, so much as make a bubbling hiss, like a grand cat, which issued from all of its heads at once. Some of my fellows soiled themselves at the sound. Old Loci even drowned in the swamp mud as he fell shrieking to the marsh at the mere sight of the thing. It started to charge us but stopped when one of the lads put a couple of bolts into it. This seemed like a good idea till it spat a column of fire at him, which roasted him on the spot. I'd like to say we put on a brave show and slew the beast, but it isn't so. It waded in and tore us to pieces. The battle didn't last long and I think it only ended because the Hydra became bored with the little sport we offered. It snatched up three men and carried them, screaming, off into the swamp. We didn't try to save them, we just ran.