The first scream fails to rouse you completely, somewhat distant and muffled by the tent around you. Shifting in your bedroll, you drift towards sleep, until a second, much louder shout issues just outside your quarters.
You poke your head from the tent-flap amid cries of alarm, the smell of smoke filling the midnight air. Much of your camp is in ruin, some of it ablaze, and what remains of your party is scattered and frantic.
Towering over the fleeing, overwhelmed mass are a handful of hulking lizardmen. Nearer nine feet than eight, heavily muscled and sheathed in darkly patterned scales, the monstrous creatures wade through the camp, picking off your compatriots as one might pluck strands of grass. Surprisingly quick for their size, you watch, momentarily stunned, as one kicks back his reptilian head and stuffs someone head-first into his maw. Undaunted, he gulps down the thrashing legs as he searches for another victim, a wicked, toothy grin on his face. Your jaw hangs open at the sight, but you have only a moment to gawk before you feel a big, clawed hand close around your ankle and drag you backwards. Scrabbling momentarily as you're pulled back through your tent, you find yourself sprawled on your back, gazing up at the midnight sky and your soon-to-be predator.
-- What comes next? --
