The morning finds the intrepid heroes staring down the last hundred feet of road to the Outpost that is their destination. All seems quiet, a scorched wagon lies turned on it’s side a few yards from the road and the outpost doors lay open almost as if in welcome but the depths of the building are shrouded in darkness and could hold any number of violent deaths.
Sneaking through the shadows, using the rocks and trees for cover, the valiant adventurers made their way safely behind the overturned wagon and paused to asses what lay before them. The interior of the outpost looked to be unnaturally dark, and nothing beyond the first few feet could be seen without venturing right through the doors with torch in hand which would, of course ,be suicide. The towers on the northwest and southeast ends of the building surely held denizens of ultimate evil waiting to rain down destruction like nothing the world has seen before.
In mortal peril, the heroes come up with a plan! Helmut Angerson, a barbarian of furious proportions, slung his giant axe across his back and proceeded to scale the outer walls of the outpost some three hundred feet to their summit. Crawling over the edge of the fortified walls in triumph he set his great boots aground and turned to face the crouching forms of dozens of goblin ambushers laying in wait to drop down on their unsuspecting prey. Before the goblins could cry out in alarm, Helmut had carved a great swath of destruction through a third of them, sending the dead and wounded in a cascade of carnage over the outposts walls to rain corpses on the ground below. Now that he was down merely twenty to one, Helmut risked a glance over the edge to his comrades below and saw Nezethet and Dr Shazzam atop the overturned wagon preparing to lend some ranged support to his efforts.
A goblin turned to face Helmut just as Nezethets Eldritch Blast shredded the monster in a burst of fel energy. Dr. Shazzam immediately followed with a cascade of fire that wreathed the area and melted several of the beasts instantly while also creating a sizable barrier of fire between Helmut and the remaining would-be ambushers. A goblin blackblade stepped over the corpses of his weaker comrades and through the remaining blaze from Shazzams attack without even blinking and darted past Helmut defenses to deliver a stinging wound along his ribcage but the only sign Helmut showed of his injury was a growing bloodthirty rage in his eyes.
Sensing their terrain advantage had been lost, the remaining goblins grabbed their anchored ropes and swung over walls to the ground below and right amidst the remaining adventurers. Suffice to say their demise was quick and fraught with suffering. A sunrod and a light spell brought much needed illumination to the Outposts interior. The place had been raided clean of useful supplies and along the center of the room ran a huge pile of rubble – overturned wagons, barrels, crates, sacks, bundles, jars and anything else you can imagine. All raided from passing merchants and travelers and then discarded in a pile in the middle of the room.
Fargrim made his way through the rubble to the far side of the room, finding it rather difficult to walk across. The doors in the back of the room remained closed and Fargrim found nothing of note until a rolling thunder reached his ears and the ground beneath him began to shake. The doors in front of him burst apart and a great lizard charged ferociously towards him. The lizards jaws locked onto Fargrims shoulder, but the gods did not favor lizards on that day for sure. Fargrim called upon his god and encased himself in a burning aura of radiant energy, the lizard screeched in pain and quickly backed away as the aura seared its flesh right off the bone.
Behind the dazed and injured drake emerged the true villains. The masterminds of this ambush. Swathed in the robes and talismans of his tribe, Baxadore Bonestriker stepped into the outposts main room with a look of disdain across his face. From the pile of bodies on the ground outside he could see his trap had failed and it was again up to him to ensure the survival of his tribe mates. Arcs of lightning slowly built up around the end of Baxadores staff before he unleashed it in a burst of purple lightning the exploded through Fargrims shield of radiant energy.
Hearing his comrades cry for help, Helmut grabbed one of the ambushers ropes and leapt over the edge towards the ground, and battle, that raged below. He landed easily but was followed by the blackblade he had been fighting on the roof. Squaring himself to his adversary, Helmut was struck in the back by two arrows as Baxadores lieutenants, two goblin sharpshooters, joined the battle from across the room.
The two armies traded devastating blows, Baxadore and his lieutenants were all terribly wounded and most of our heroes are bleeding from multiple wounds. Baxadore cleared the rubble in the middle of the room and took a commanding step amongst our young group of heroes. His staff rose in the air and then struck the ground with a supernatural force that sent a shockwave of thunder and lightning throughout the room. The force was so great that our heroes were knocked to the ground, several teetering on the edge of consciousness and Fargrim was out cold and quickly bleeding to death!
Parafin the cleric stepped into the room and opened himself up as a conduit to the divine might of his god, Moradin. A golden light bathes the area around him and rejuvenates his comrades, slowly creeping into them and drawing out their own strength. The divine energy rises to a crescendo, knitting flesh and bone back together. When the glory of Moradins blessings fade our heroes are restored and ready themselves to face Baxadore with renewed vigor.
In a hail of magic missiles, foul warlock curses and one very large axe, Baxadore and his followers are brought to judgment. Their blood staining the cold stone ground as they are laid to rest.
The Tales of Tallowfell
Master Bard of the Frontier
From Chapter 4 “Of Simple Beginnings and Epic Destinys: The Heroes of Jargon’s Fork”