Meanwhile, in the "Real" world

I was the perfect age when D&D hit the big time. For my 11th birthday I received the AD&D boxed set and a little something called the Official Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Coloring Book. I loved this box like a fat kid loves cake. I stayed up at night looking at it over and over. I didn't even have the guts to color in it, I didn't wan to mess it up.
Over 30 years later, there are still images in my head. A Bullette bursting through the ground, the party before the adventure. It has shaped how my D&D world is in my head.
Somewhere over the years through moves, etc it was lost to me.
But now, a wonderful gentleman over at Monster Brains has lovingly scanned in every page. I can print it off as many times as I want. My kids can color it. I can color it (now with photoshop).
At last, the internet was good for something.

aforementioned Bullette

Ogres of the Black Mountains

Ogres, those largest of "black bloods" are not, in fact, related to other goblinoid races. They have a distinct language and culture, for lack of a better word.
Many of these solitary creatures live Beyond the Wall, in a small branch of the Widowfangs known as the Black Mountains for its ash covered peaks.
Ogres have a strange place in Imperial history. Befriended early by the tribes that would someday form the Empire, ogres helped shape early Imperial history. Ogres were used as shocktroops and even bodyguards. But, once imperial society had become more "civilized", Ogres became more and more marginalized.
The ogres that haunt the black Mountains now, are descendants of those former Imperial troops forced to settle north of the Empire.
They have become more brutal and barbaric than their ancestors, preying on any passerby, and even their own kind. But, rumor has spread south, of a larger, more powerful force, organizing these brutes into a cohesive force. Ogres may march once again. But this time against the Empire.

The end

Gruffydd went to stand above the body of Newly. She looked like a log pulled from the fire. A burnt husk. The dwarf went to touch her, but she turned to ash.
All was quiet.
Miss Adventure began fumbling through the ashes. Gruffydd was about to say something when the halfing pulled something shiny from the mess. She lifted into the cold morning. It was a lrge seed, the size of an egg. Golden.
Without hesitation or a word, the party began hacking at the frozen ground. When they had a small pit, Miss Adventure gingerly placed the seed into the hole and began covering it up.
Next, they hauled as many of the stiff guardsmen's bodies onto the horses as they could, along with a hobgoblin standard, and a few black masks. Laden with gold and the dead, they returned to Wall...

Blood and Snow

From the moment they emerged from the Well, they felt hunted. Sometimes, by the very weather itself. The wind blasted them, the snows deepened, and always hounded by a feeling of dread. It took a day and night to find the ford. They had dared not try to make it past Ol' Nick at the bridge. Better to face the hornet things at the river crossing. The cold had kept the things inside, but the river was half frozen, making the crossing treacherous. Miss Adventure went under, but was rescued by Gildrid.
The river claimed the packhorse and most of the supplies.
The party was exhausted by the time the weather let up. It was cold but clear when they neared Wall, and the abandoned logging camp that was the home of one of the party's few friends, Newly, the Dryad.
Before Gruffydd, on point, crested the hill that ringed newly's hollow, he saw blood in the snow. It was frozen. A black splash like ink on crisp white paper. And the smell of smoke.
He signalled to the others to lay low and approach slowly.
What they saw battle sight. Bodies half buried in the snow. Blood, red and black, frozen in large pools. Blackened trees, including Newly's great Oak. But no movement. The battle was long over.
THe party scrambled down the hill. Some of the bodies were goblins, some the larger hobgoblins bearing the blue moon badge they had seen in the caverns. There were humans. A few wore the armor and uniforms of the Wall Guardians, but most had dark hunting clothes, and a few black hoods. There were also elves and halfling. The party knew them. They were members of a small adventuring party also operating out of Wall.
They were too cold and tired to try and give anyone a decent burial here. Better to wait and call out the garrison.
Then, a gasp. Miss Adventure had gone to check on Newly. The halfling stood next to the burnt remains of Newly's tree. There, half buried in the snow, was a blackened form. It had the shape of an old woman.

Quietly, hardly more than whisper, Miss Adventure spoke, "No......"

Fire and Ice

Chaos. Every member of the party not fighting was trying to put burning parts of their clothes out.   The elves tried to stay back, and pelt the bugs with arrows, but they proved a tough target, skittering about. Everyone else tried to get in stabs between bursts of flame. The beetles that were left alone, passed by the party and down side halls. But, those were few.
When it was over, all had been wounded and burnt. The hallway still smoldered, and was full of the twitching corpses of bugs. Gustav was found trapped under the coach.
"Baby Dragons, huh?", Gruffydd said as he tossed the burnt wreck of furniture aside. The party shot Gustav murderous looks.
Gustav said nothing but scurried into the small room the beetles had been trapped in.
Empty.
Gruffyd studied it. He then bent and began scrapping with his dagger on one of the stones near the base of the back wall. He pried it out. Then a stout wooden box.
It contained 500 electrum pieces!
The young cleric had a look that told everyone "I told you it was worth looking in here."
Burnt, bruised and bloodied they crawled to the level above. Rather than face the long rope climb to the surface, they were able to find the entrance Morey had discovered.
Outside, it was cold. It was dark. And the world was covered in snow.

Another log on the fire

Nemon put a torch near the bars. He almost lost his arm, when a huge claw made a swipe for him.
"Weasel", said Gruffydd. The group gave a collective shutter. They had witnessed the death of Dimzad, a former member of the group, to a giant weasel. They still remembered the lower of half of the dwarf's body walking around, spurting blood. The top half devoured by a weasel just like this one.
Everyone began notching arrows.
"You're not going to simply kill a caged animal?" Morey the young magician asked, horror in his voice. "It can't hurt us, locked away like that".
Just the then the giant lunged at the cage. The rusty bars gave way in a few spots.
"Shoot it! Shoot it!" Morey screamed.
It took way more arrows than anyone had hoped. The cage opened, Gruffydd rummaged through the cage. He was, like the rest of the party, already covered in blood, dirt, and soot. What was a little weasel crap too? He found a few undigested coins and a belt buckle. Probably from some hapless adventurer.
Miss Adventure yawned, "We should leave. It's getting late, and this level is empty."
"No it's not", came the retort from the cleric Gustav. "we still have that room full of baby dragons."
No one seemed interested in the room.
"Look", said Gruffydd. "I'm gonna find some other way out of this place that doesn't require me hauling my ass up that rope to the top of the well. Who's with me?"
The group began shuffling towards the door and to the stairs to the level above.
Nemon, the tough mercenary from the wars in the South, took pity on the young holy-man. "I'll go with you".
With the rest of the party waiting to move on, Nemon and Gustav made their way down the dark corridor to the doorway plugged up with the filthy divan. Nemon stood back a ways as Gustav clambered up the side.
He peered in. Still dark, except for the occasional flash on light, and the soft clicking that proceeded it. He held on with one had, while he rummaged through a bag. He pulled out a flask on torch oil. Then Gustav threw the flask through the small gap between the sofa and the top of the doorway. He heard the flask break.
Click-click. Nothing. Click-click.
"BOOOOOOM!"
There was a flash of light and an impact. The group down the hallway felt the concussion and the heat. Nemon was knocked off his feet. Gustav disappeared under the burning wreck of the divan.
The hall was engulfed in fire.
And movement. A least a dozen beetles, the size of large dogs, came pouring out of the room. Fire spitting out of their mouths...

Caged

Map in hand, the party left the room and headed for the as yet, untried door just outside the chamber. A quick listen revealed little.
It was unlocked. Gruffydd pushed the door open slightly. A sputtering torch lit a small room. In the center a small goblin ate something nasty from and earthen bowl. Another slept on a cot nearby.
The dwarf kicked the door open and the party barged in. The eating goblin had just reached for a spear next to him, when Gustav brained him with a mace. Miss Adventure buried a sword in the sleeping goblin before it stirred. The room was mostly empty, and smelled terrible. Nemon was pondering where he had smelled the odor before, when something stirred in the corner. That's when the group noticed the back wall had rusty bars along it's length. Something moved behind those bars. Something big....