“The road to failure is paved with good intentions.” – Sum Wyz Gai
The four three adventurers came together for the basest of reasons – money. The surly captain of Hommlet’s guard tasked them with retrieving a lost shipment from a troublesome band of brigands. The trio set out in high spirits, the promise of gold and good deeds drawing them onward.
Tracking their quarry to the site of a damaged wagon they quickly hobbled their horse and wagon to the wreckage then moved into the shadow of a steep defile where they found the darkened entrance to a series of underground chambers.
A quick survey of the first room suggested a band of cowardly miscreants were waiting inside. In the time it takes to roll a knucklebone a pitched battle was under way. Things seemed to be going well until dozens of runes lit up the floor. To make matters worse the party began to fall victim to strange magic – switching consciousness with their foes. As they did so a finely dressed woman at the back of the room slipped further into the dungeon.
The party managed to quell the enemy and T’Charr, the curious artificer set about the task of deconstructing the rune control panel, while the zealous Scan moved among the corpses performing some sort of ritual. The swordmage, Pock, exhibited his common sense and practicality by thoroughly looting the corpses of the dead and positioning them for later retrieval.
Things seemed to be going so well.
Without further delay the party ventured further – arriving at a closed door. Pock led the way, finding cover but not before alerting the waiting enemy forces. An arrow barely missed him. Before they party knew what was happening they had been rushed by a number of goblins and a massive brutish human was pummeling them into the ground. After a hard fought battle it was just the heroes against the beastly warrior.
Fate was no longer smiling on them. In the space of two breaths the creature lashed out with his cruel cudgels, laying low both Pock and Scan. Pressing his advantage he turned his gaze on T’Charr. With a resounding crack, and a sickening thump, the last of the band was bested.
The party awoke, stripped of their gear, the victims of the very robbers they sought to defeat. After a days rest they arrived back in town to find new arrivals. The Order of the Green Claw (a group of knights from another kingdom) had arrived in the small town en masse. It took less than a genius to figure out that these were the angry reinforcements whose punishment Barun had promised should the shipment remain lost. Wanting nothing to do with the mess, but needing revenge as well as money, they promptly turned their cart around and heading back into the hills.
A bit of recon at the entrance to the bandit hideout showed their nemesis on guard with a number of goblins. Learning from their past mistakes the party positioned themselves for an ambush. Pock charged after distracting a number of the guards with a well timed illusion. In no time the party had quelled the underlings and surrounded the raging brute. With another show of combat rage the man smashed Scan to the ground. Not to be cowed, Scan faded from view, only to reappear a few feet away, crouched in Pock’s shadow. Strange shadows coalesced around the ragers head and then crashed inward. His life force laid low, the human fell to his knees, quickly fading but struggling to remain conscious.
A cloud of shards coalesced in front of him, resolving into the form of T’Charr whose white eyes were glowing with cold fury. Grasping the savage by his ears, T’Charr savagely bashed his crystalline dome into the dying man’s face, bludgeoning him beyond recognition. His thirst for vengeance sated, T’Charr stepped back, the unearthly glow no longer emanating from his “eyes”. The party stepped, with renewed conviction, to the dungeon entrance determined to route the bandits and recover their possessions.
– As recorded by Janus the Jolly Jingler, Fifth most Famous bard in all of Hommlet, this 11th day of Dravago, 998 YK, Under the Ascending Mark of the Handler