At dawn’s first pale gleam, the fellowship—Sim, high elf and master of arcane currents; Dr. Sebastien Ekart, human warlock bound to eldritch powers; Deacon, dragonborn rogue born of shadow and steel; Zarcha, barbarian-rogue whose draconic blood burned with fury; and Andarna Terresan, steadfast paladin—were roused within the timbered walls of the Outrageous Pig Inn.
Their awakener, Darc Gobblebeard, bustled them from their rooms with dwarven efficiency. Downstairs, Betha, stout-hearted matron of the inn, greeted them with a traveler’s breakfast—hard cheese, crusted dark bread, and salted meat. Their steeds were saddled, their packs secured, and thus the companions set forth upon the long road.
For two days Darc rode with them, until at last he parted ways, claiming urgent business and bidding them meet him in Tombar in due time.
On the second night beyond his departure, the heavens split open. A monstrous thunderstorm crashed across the sky, turning the road to mire. Seeking refuge, the party spied the warm flicker of a farmhouse lantern through sheets of rain.
Sim, keen-eyed even in the tempest’s fury, halted her steed. Three diminutive silhouettes scurried from the homestead and vanished into the forest, burdened by something unseen. A fourth figure—a desperate farmer—stumbled after them, wailing into the storm:
“They have taken my wife and child! Please—help me!”
Introducing himself as Yosef Mallory, the distressed man urged the heroes to search his home and barn for clues. Finding none, they plunged into the rain-slashed forest, chasing the rapidly dissolving tracks of the abductors.
Hours later, the party glimpsed a wavering firelight ahead. Within a yawning cavern sat six Morbus Kobolds, their scaly forms lit by the glow of a campfire.
With characteristic boldness—or perhaps recklessness—Deacon strode forward, Zarcha at his side, attempting intimidation. The kobolds were unmoved. Steel flashed, and battle was joined.
The skirmish turned fierce. Dr. Ekart’s eldritch blast felled the first foe in a burst of crackling power. Sim and Andarna plunged into the melee, though Sim soon fell beneath a flurry of vicious kobold strikes. Only Andarna’s divine touch pulled him back from the threshold of death.
Reinforcements from a deeper chamber swarmed the party, but at last the final kobold collapsed, and the cave fell silent save for the dripping of stormwater from the stone.
Exploring the cavern’s depths, the fellowship discovered a foul chamber: a cesspool choked with refuse, cages lined with the remains of the dead, and—shockingly—a lone living prisoner.
Andarna revived him, and when he spoke his name, the party froze.
“I… am Yosef Mallory.”
Two Yosefs. One a captive. One a liar.
Understanding they had been deceived, the companions raced back toward the farmhouse with the true Yosef in tow.
At the farmstead, their search uncovered a missing horse from the barn—and a cellar door left ajar in the house.
Descending into the shadows, Dr. Ekart, Zarcha, and Andarna discovered a charnel scene: Red Cloaks—agents of ill repute—dissected and arranged like grotesque experiments. Scattered across a table lay frenzied notes, torn maps, and rambling parchment.
Amid the insanity, Dr. Ekart unearthed threads of meaning: reference to Valemourn, a city whispered about in rumor and fear, and the legendary lost metropolis of Arlion.
Meanwhile, Sim uncovered a wanted poster bearing their own names.
Wanted. Dead or Alive.
The truth was clear:
The party had not stumbled into a simple abduction—they had stepped into a deeper web of conspiracy, one that now coiled tightly around them.
ReGeek'en 