The time has come to turn up the heat, as our heroes venture into the steamy jungle primordial. Finally.

Oh boy, oh boy! This is it. After months of disasters and calamities, not to mention all the trials and tribulations that the fictional characters had to face, we are finally entering the jungle proper for the first time! There is no death curse yet, that is still months away. Without the ticking clock of the death curse, my players will have the freedom to explore the wonders of Chult to their heart’s content. Or at least until some devastating monster crushes their heart til it stops beating.

When last we left our heroes, they finally gathered up enough coin to fund an expedition into the heart of darkness. Granted they only had enough gold to pay for the economy tour. This severely cut down on vital supplies and equipment. It’s enough to get them into the jungle, maybe not enough to get them home. But that’s a risk they were willing to take.

They cut out so much equipment that they’re not even taking any hunting gear or cages with them. But isn’t their primary goal to collect as many live animals as they can for their patron’s zoo back in Waterdeep? Yeah well, scratch that mission. Their new goal is to blindly wander the jungle in search of treasure to fund the next expedition, where they will do all the hunting, they promise. They do have some other missions. They are looking for evidence of a potential new deity called Vorn that is being worshipped by the primitive tribes of grungs and goblins. They’re also escorting a trusted ally, Undril, to her faction’s jungle base at a shrine called the Crocodile Man.

When I contemplated running this campaign, I was thrilled at the prospect of playing the jungle like an enormous super dungeon, except instead of grey stone, the heroes are trapped beneath a canopy of towering trees and writhing vines. I knew it would be more work, but oh my god, I wasn’t prepared for this much work. There are so many things to keep track of each day: temperature, weather, starvation, dehydration, navigation, and a near-constant barrage of random encounters. It’s the randomness that overwhelms the adventure. But it is this randomness that makes the whole adventure so unique and fun.

Preparation is crucial. Read my Tomb of Annihilation Resources Page. In it, I include all the charts and tables I created to run this adventure, many of which are available on my DM Screen Inserts that you can view here: ToA DM Screen Next, for each day of travel, I prepare all my random rolls before the session. This prevents the session from grinding to a halt while the players watch me roll dice and refer to my charts for each new day. And it allows me to tailor each day to provide a (hopefully) more satisfying experience with the most dramatic impact.

For each day, I roll 15(!) dice; 1d4, 1d6, 4d10, and 9d20. Because I am insane, all my dice are color coded (you shouldn’t feel the need to do this.) Red dice give me the daily temperature, blue dice are for rainfall, purple dice are the navigator’s survival check, the white and brown dice deal with equipment breakage, and the rest determine if a random encounter occurs based upon the time of day; yellow for morning, green is day, orange is evening, and black is for night.

Most of these random rolls are just for descriptive flare, but there are some situational circumstances that arise. I added that if the temperature is over 100 degrees, then each character must drink an extra gallon of water to avoid dehydration. There are special travel conditions during a monsoon. And if you are playing full survival mode, then the rain catchers are only useful when it rains at camp, usually during the evening and night hours. But the only real purpose of all these rolls is for the random encounter tables.

Without a doubt, these are some of the best random encounter tables I’ve seen in a WotC product. A ton of variety and all organized by terrain type, these things are great. When you add in the Caches, Dead Explorers, and Treasure Drops tables, these pages are a goldmine. Although you will exhaust the treasure list quickly; I would mix it in with the random treasure tables found in the Dungeon Masters Guide. There’s so much material here that it is hard to keep track of. So, I keep copious notes.

As part of my session prep, I write out on a legal pad all the stuff I think the players will encounter that week. If the session takes place in a city, I have lots of names for NPCs and encounter triggers at various locations. If they’re in a dungeon, I write out the most likely rooms they will explore and stat blocks for all the monsters within. These jungle sessions are very similar. I write out the results of all my dice rolls, a break down of all the random encounters and their relevant stat blocks, plus descriptions of any treasure drops. I leave some space at the bottom to track initiative and hit points during combat.

Before we start, I quickly realized one potential issue with this random encounter system. The jungle is huge and the players travel so incredibly slowly through it. The closest named location to Port Nyanzaru is 13 hexes away. Even travelling by river, with zero problems, it will take 7 days to arrive. The random encounter system averages out to one encounter per travel day, and in a normal session, we can get through about 3-4 encounters. This means it’s going to take two sessions just to get anywhere. In fact, this very post combines those two sessions since they are so similar. It is real easy to bore players with this pace. At some point, you might want to consider speeding up this journey and skipping a few less important random encounters. Okay, with all this prep work done, let’s dance!

Expedition DAY 1 – 12 Azul 1490. The Society of Money-Grubbing Tomb Robbers. We left Port Nyanzaru at the crack of dawn on our first foray into the monstrous jungle of Chult. It was a half mile walk from Old City to the nearest landing at the mouth of the River Shoshenstar. Our guides, Flask of Wine and River Mist, lead the way while the six native porters we hired carry the three canoes and all our gear. We soon realized that River Mist is the actual guide. She rarely speaks and her brother Flask of Wine acts more like an interpreter for her directions.

At the river’s inlet, we have a clear view of the primordial wilderness that awaits us. The jungle rises before us in every direction like an ancient verdant carpet stretched across a thousand miles. Its vastness is overwhelming. Just daring to step into its immenseness runs the risk of never stepping out again. We launched the boats and rowed toward our destiny.

Around midday we saw some snapping turtle basking on the beach. Even from this distance, we could see that they were larger than any turtle we’d ever seen. Barring that abomination Aremag that wrecked the Narwhal II barely a tenday ago. Gods is that all it’s been? It seems like ages. Regardless, they posed no threat and we lacked the equipment to catch them. We let them be.

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the Shoshenstar estuary. The mouth of the brackish river where it meets the crystal waters of the bay and surrounded by encroaching jungle really looked like a black gaping maw, ready to swallow us whole. Undeterred, we rowed faster, right down into its gullet.

In contrast to its foreboding entrance, once inside, we were dazzled by a viridescent kaleidoscope. Every shade of green imaginable danced before our eyes, lit by pockets of sunlight that fought their way through the trees and gently swaying in a breeze that seemed to come from everywhere all at once.

But it wasn’t just a feast for our eyes. Every sense was inundated with new and exotic stimuli. Our noses were transfixed with the scent of a million perfumed flowers, mixed with the permeance of animal musk, and beneath the surface, a hint of rot and decay. Our very thoughts were drowned out by the cacophony of sounds that pierced our eardrums with an incessant cadence. Like the constant rhythm of a tribal drum, except comprised from a barrage of hoots, whistles, clicks, and screeches.

But the most oppressive element was the humidity. The day was hot to begin with, but here under this tangled canopy, the heat could enter, but then became trapped in this green cage and couldn’t leave. (A fate we hoped would not befall us.) With nowhere to go, the heat compounded over and over, the weight of it drenched us in sweat and threatened to crush us to dust. Even wearing the lightest cloth jerkin soon felt like a drowned woolen blanket. I can only fathom the unbearable pressure that Roland must bear buried under his precious metal breastplate. We camped under a riverbank clearing and thanked the gods for the nighttime mist that keep us cool.

DAY 2 – By morn, the mist a become a torrential downpour that swelled our rain catcher and would stave off dehydration another day. But barely an hour after the rains stopped, we were reeling from the relentless heat and humidity under a blistering sun. Nothing accosted us as we trekked upriver, although we caught a glimpse of a prowl of jaguars slinking through the foliage. We camped again on the shore of the Shoshenstar but with no clearing, we gazed up and watched as our fronded ceiling turned from green to grey to pitch black. It was then that something slunk into our camp looking for a snack.

Roland was just able to get out a scream before the beast could drag him back into the jungle. The alarm was raised, torches were lit and the beast we saw rear up before us was the stuff of nightmares. A huge anaconda snake almost thirty feet long had coiled itself around our paladin, suffocating him as it tried to slither away. But the serpent wasn’t prepared for armed resistance and we made short work of the forked devil. Roland skinned it for some future fashion statement while Miche tried his best to make snake kabobs, but no amount of spice could mask its stringy, oily meat.

DAY 3 – In the light of the new dawn, we grimly learned that we had slept upon the death grove of some unfortunate adventure. The corpse of a female half-elf wearing ornate red robes lay mangled not 15 feet from our tents. She had been gored and trampled by some immense beast but not eaten. On her body, we found some gold, an ivory smoking pipe, and a jade carving of a coiled snake. Since the dead have no need for treasure, we took it. The porters were not pleased, they took the whole event as a bad omen.

As we paddled up the river, the hairs on the back of our necks stood up. Something was watching us, but we couldn’t catch sight of our hunters. We scoured the river, both banks and the trees, but we never saw our quarry. To make matters worse, the constant rain made us wet and miserable. Little did we know that that was the least of our worries. As we set up camp for the night, a crocodile swam out of its nearby den and attacked. And that’s when we finally learned what had stalked us all day long.

As we fended off the razor-toothed reptile, a half dozen predators of the skies swooped down to grab the preoccupied prey; us. At first glance, they looked like featherless vultures, except they were larger than the largest man. They had a vague humanoid shape with legs that ended in sharp talons and monstrous leathery wings in place of arms. But it was their face that was the most bestial. It looked a deformed stork with a long beaked snout filled with pointed, sharp teeth. Its beady black eyes were sunk into its skull and its bleached grey skin was pulled so tight it looked like a cadaver. We learned later that the natives call them the Pterafolk.

They certainly lived up to their name. As they dove down to attack, they struck fear in the hearts of several porters, who fled the safety of the circled group. Two terrified porters ran off alone and unprotected toward the trees. Before they could get there, several Pterafolk plunged toward the fleeing prey, grabbing them in their talons, and lifting back into the sky. Before they could fly away, every ranged projectile and spell was launched at the escaping predators. Two arrows found their mark, and both Pterafolk dropped they prey; dropped them twenty feet to their grisly death. One was saved by a feather fall spell, but the other could not be caught and was dashed upon the rocks below, dead.

The scene was pure pandemonium as we fought off attacks from the sea and air. Miche had been bit by a crocodile and was trapped in its savage jaws, but he broke free just before it could ravage our chef in a death roll. Martic was ensnared in a pterafolk’s talons but managed to break its hold before it got too high. He was fortunate to land in some moss and avoid the poor porter’s fate. (Still took 1d6 damage of course.)

After fighting tooth and nail, we emerged victorious; the crocodile and all the Pterafolk lay dead. Our triumph was hard won however; we’d lost a porter and everyone was injured to some degree. Thames wanted to keep one of the flying beasts alive for questioning. Alas, it was not to be, and we never learned where their nest was. We did find the crocodile den along with the half-eaten bodies of a human fighter and a single native, presumably another porter. We also found the adventurer’s trashed camp.

Among the smashed debris, we salvaged a small pouch of gold, a gold medallion with a harp on it, a discarded shield and sword that both appear magical, a collapsed but useable raincatcher, 10-days of rations and an intact empty birdcage. Looking around we saw a curious parrot with beautiful plumage pining for the fjords. It was a surprisingly easy affair to entice the parrot into the cage. We had finally captured our first creature for Riandon’s zoo. We’d hoped that this would end the excitement for the day, but the jungle is relentless.

Before we could set up camp or even catch our breath, a troop of monkeys swung out from the trees and attacked. But these were not your average monkeys. These had been tainted by some evil spirit, and were the embodiment of a demonic chimpanzee. Collectively, the porters cried out, “Wongo!” and did their best to hide. These were the dreaded su-monster. Their first attack was silent, invisible, and deadly.

Before we could react, our minds were assaulted with a searing pain unlike anything we’d ever felt. This was not the playful stun effect experienced during the Trickster Trials. It was if our brains had been stabbed by a thousand knives as it tried to burst from our skulls. Gwen and Roland had the acuity to fend off the worst of the damage, but Miche and Undril were knocked senseless from the blast and incapacitated for the time being. Fortunately, no one was killed outright.

In an act of desperation, Thames cast Thunderwave. It proved vital to the fight and gave the party the upper hand during the combat. But it came at a cost, as the thunderous sonic boom it created was sure to attract the attention of every nearby creature. The su-monsters still proved difficult to fight, especially when they hung by their tails and attacked with all four limbs. Eventually, Miche and Undril came to their senses, and together we sent these fiendish beasts back to the hell they spawned from.

The actual session ended here while the party waited for me to figure out what had been drawn to the booming sound reverberating through the jungle.

DAY 3 cont. – (Once we reconvened,) it didn’t take long for another creature to investigate the sonic boom Thames inadvertently set off. A guttural roar was followed by the heavy snapping of vines and twigs. Next a large white gorilla with four arms burst into the clearing. A girallon! It made a tentative charge toward us. Not waiting to call its bluff, we unleashed everything we had on it. It may have just wanted to scare us away, but now it came at us with fury in its eyes. Eyes we eventually closed permanently. When nothing else came exploring we set up camp while Roland tasked himself with skinning everything. We might not bring back any live specimens, but we’ll have plenty of hides to tan.

DAY 4 – After the deadly encounter of yesterday, this day began as if nothing had even occurred. The sun rose, the heat oppressed, the trees swayed, and the animals chattered; the jungle remained unchanged. We journeyed on. As we approached noon, Flask of Wine told us to remain silent. We were approaching the domain of the Thunder King. No one has ever seen the creature and lived, but if you hear the thunder roar, run as fast as you can and don’t look back. Surely this couldn’t be the same creature our ancient journal mentioned? That was over 100 years ago. But just as the journal claimed, around midday we came upon Thunder Falls. But it was unlike any scene we could have imagined.

The entire lake area over a mile wide, including the surrounding jungle, the cliff face, and the waterfall itself were frozen solid! A thick sheet of ice and frost covered the entire lake, but the temperature in the jungle was over 90 degrees. Investigating further, the temperature inside the winter wonderland was well below zero. Thames the dragonborn of cold was unaffected but if it were any colder the rest of us would surely suffer damage from frostbite. There seemed to be a fissure in the middle of the lake.

As we cautiously approached, we saw that it was not a natural chasm, but rather a hole, formed from some gigantic beast that had been trapped in the ice, but has since broken free. Enormous three-toed claw prints moved away from the icy prison toward the western shore. That is where we could smell the distinct combination of violets and cooked ham(?) On the shore, we found two more sets of tracks, one made by average sized boots and the other made by a small sized two-legged reptilian, perhaps another dragonborn or a lizardman. The tracks continued west into the jungle at a running pace, pursued by the unknown gigantic beast.

Not wanting to wait for either party to return, we beat a hasty retreat along the portage trail to the upper falls, which fortunately travelled along the eastern shore. We collected a sample of ice and kept it in a spare barrel for future research. For the next several days, the ice showed no signs of melting. Bewildered by what we’d seen and smelled, we could not make heads or tails of any of it. But none of us could recall even hearing about a spell with so much destructive power over such a wide area. Thames in particular seemed very interested in discovering more.

DM notes – Obviously this is some major foreshadowing of some major NPCs. The players knew that the monster was a T-rex but by keeping him hidden, the suspense builds until his ultimate reveal. Much like the reveal of the shark in Jaws. The frozen wasteland and the unique odors foreshadow Artus Cimber and Dragonbait. If you intend to use them in your campaign, they should get some foreshadowing as well. I’ve mentioned Artus before in my Chult journal handout and he’ll get another mention a few sessions later.

I really like trying to foreshadow Dragonbait. He was a character in one of my favorite video games as a kid, Curse of the Azure Bonds, so having him here gives me a strong sense of nostalgia. This is actually the second time they’re smelled his presence. Back in Port Nuanzaru, the group smelled lemons when there were no fruit vendors nearby. The book provides a fair list of odors and their meanings. Make good use of it.

DAY 5 – Our next day in the jungle was uneventful. We had to traverse past another waterfall and the day ended at the third cataract. The view from the top of this waterfall was stunning. The jungle fell away to the north and we could just make out the Bay of Chult beyond surrounded by the Mistcliff mountains to the west and a spur of land to the east. The setting sun cast the entire landscape in hews of red and orange. From this vantage point, the land looked like a giant fiery bird rising out from the sea, like a phoenix. To the northeast, a smaller crop of mountains seemed to sit on the bird’s head like a crown or a horn. (Yes, kids. This is significant. Read your journal ToA Journal Alucius Alphonse). My players ignored these attempts to show them where they needed to go. I’ll have to try again later.

As we made camp, we discovered a large rock with a carving on it. But this wasn’t some tribal motif, it was more like a wizard’s sigil or a noble’s stamp. Then we realized where we’d seen it before. It was the mark of Alucius Alphonse, the author of the journal we’ve been carrying around for months. Now we had a choice to make.

Do we continue west up the river to Camp Righteous and deliver Undril and her missives to the Order of the Gauntlet? Or do we follow the journal? The journal speaks of a snake infested temple just one day’s journey south. The temple is rumored to be filled with treasures and riches beyond belief and we really could use the gold. The choice was simple. We hid the canoes along the riverbank and headed south into the thick of the jungle. We regretted it immediately.

DM notes – Obviously, a treasure filled ruined temple just a single day off the beaten path is too enticing to pass up. But if I had made it further away, I can see players opting for the safer route. I’m thrilled they chose this way.

DAY 6 – We waited until day break before venturing into the jungle. To travel at night is suicide; far too many predators on the hunt. But at least it would have been cooler. The day was hot and muggy and miserable. We did not realize how much cooler travelling on the river actually was. It was now almost unbearable. We travelled the whole day without incident nor any sign of this alleged temple. Perhaps the journal meant a full day’s travel and we would find the temple tomorrow. We prayed the journal wasn’t just wrong and pressed on.

DAY 7 – Something is wrong. Still no sign of this temple. Maybe it had been reclaimed by the jungle and we walked right past it. Maybe the journal is wrong. Or worse, maybe we’re lost. Flask of Wine claims that River Mist is still on the trail and not to worry. We were attacked by another constrictor snake, this time an emerald tree python, which gave us hope that we were on the right path, but we still worried.

DAY 9 – Flask of Wine admitted to us that River Mist is lost. She cannot gain her bearings and fears she may be walking in circles. We are in a hopeless situation now. We only brought food for a 20-day excursion, ten days in, ten days back. If we cannot find the right path soon, we won’t have enough food to make it back to Port. Nyanzaru. Not to mention that the random animal encounters have increased the deeper we go. We’ve been attacked by stirges and baboons, plus we’ve seen a pack of rodents of unusual size, called capybaras, that we managed to avoid, in addition to gazelles, an aardvark, and a dozen colobus monkeys.

DM notes – I mentioned last week that I gave each potential guide an area of expertise where they rolled their navigation survival checks with advantage. River Mist’s area is the 60-mile radius surrounding Port Nyanzaru. They were just outside this area, so I rolled normally, no advantage or disadvantage. River Mist failed this roll five times in a row! I also hadn’t planned for this many days of travel, so I rolled for random encounters during the session which I found to be uninspired and boring.

DAY 10 – Just as we had given up hope, Ubtao showed us mercy. River Mist had found us a temple and she was pretty sure it was the temple we were looking for. It appears that we had gone around in a circle and now found ourselves on the south east corner of the complex. We had expected to approach it from the north. This seems to be the story of our lives in this mystical land. Hopelessly lost and floundering, yet we find ourselves exactly where we need to be. (But the rolls were all honest, the dice dictated this path.)

It was near dark when we arrived. We set up camp further back in the jungle, about 300 feet away from the ruins. We strung ropes from tree to tree as guides to help us find our way back to camp. We snuck along the tree line to get an idea of the size of the temple ruins. The complex was larger than we expected. About a dozen mounds dotted the clearing, presumably long-lost structures buried beneath a millennium of overgrowth just waiting to be uncovered again. In the far northeast corner, sat a stone ziggurat, freed of any foliage. Like a mammoth stairway, the temple reaching into the heavens. But it meant something else as well; someone or something was still utilizing this temple. The mounds formed two quads. In the moonlight, we could see something writhing in the center square. It was hundreds and hundreds of snakes of all shapes, sizes, and variety. If the ancient journal was to be believed, this had to be the place.

Next week, our valiant expedition hits a snag when they stumble around an ancient temple and suffer a glorious, rejuvenating TPK!

As always, when the enormous unknown footprints go off in one direction, you would be wise to go off in the other, and Game On!

Why’d it have to be snakes?! – C’mon you knew I was gonna use this line.

Don’t forget to check out my Tomb of Annihilation Resources Page, filled with all the stuff I use to make this epic campaign even more epicier: My full Campaign Diary, plus Handouts, Maps, Charts, PDFs, Images, and more to use, abuse, or ignore at your peril.

And written specifically for this adventure, read my Explorer’s Guide to Chult to delve into all the legands, lore, history, religion, and culture that I used to bring even more life to this adventure.