Tonight We Dine in Hell!

Entry from Arstan’s Journal:

The slow creaks and groans of the wagon trundling over the deserted path awoke Arstan from his reverie. Gaze lifted to the high horizon, he paid silent homage to the namesake of his people, the great Minotaur, whose massive axe had cleaved the great mountaintop itself. Built of an empire lost to the ages, the great crafstmanship of the silent sentinel lived on alone as a testament to the power of his diminished race. Arstan squinted as he looked up at the position of the sun in the sky. Just after midday, the caravan plodded along under the watchful gaze of the sour-looking human at the reins. The stout caravan leader announced a halt, and the occupants of the wagon looked about in confusion. A small gathering had appeared at the rear of the cart, and the free folk there moved about with anxious glances. As yet untroubled, Arstan stayed seated and practiced his mantras, intent to let this minor disturbance pass without incident. However, the situation quickly escalated as the shifty, tattooed fellow suddenly made a grab for the halfling, Kenver. A short scuffle ensued, resulting in the warforged shoving the tattooed man from the wagon. Within seconds, the sounds of blades being drawn were soon met with cries of alarm. Arstan knew that his presence would soon be needed. He bolted upright, hefting his massive morningstar as he spied the reason for the commotion… the caravan was surrounded by a band of goblins!

Diving headfirst into the melee, Arstan laid about with his great spiked mace, seeing that a half-elf and the halfling were also heavily engaged. An Eladrin rogue and the skinny driver fought together on one side, but the goblins were great in number and quickly slayed Ofin the caravan leader. The warforged, in a titanic struggle with a particularly hearty goblin, lit up the wagon like midsummer festival, to no great avail. Working together, the group was able to dispatch the goblins, and only one lived to tell the tale, wherever he ran to. The fighter Drayden, a devout follower of Kord, made it known of his intentions to stamp out the root of the goblin threat himself. Applauding his bravery, Arstan agreed to accompany him and rid the area of these raiders forever. The rogue, calling himself Ghost, and the warforged warlock Jimbo also agreed to accompany the expedition into the mountain passes. The halfling Kenver Swiftstream, no warrior by any account, stayed close to the party, not wishing to set off alone on the dangerous path to his home.

After a short trek, Drayden was able to locate a small goblin camp. Excited about the upcoming battle, he baited his newfound compatriots into joining him in assaulting the camp headlong. They charged gloriously around the corner… and into an ambush of goblin warriors, their pet wolves, and a larger, armored and particularly nasty goblin! The tide quickly changed for the worse, when the brave heroes found themselves outnumbered and exposed against a greater force. Fighting back step after step, they retreated to the narrow opening of the camp. Sensing their hesitation in the face of such odds, the goblin leader croaked out an offer for surrender… at the cost of the halfling Kenver, he would be willing to let them all leave. Confusion and distrust washed over the group as they licked their wounds and realized the dire situation they found themselves in. A chance for retreat… but at the expense of the halfling’s life. Arstan looked at Drayden and saw the grim set of his jaw, and the fury in his eyes and knew that the half-elf would rather die than flee before this laughing pile of fodder. They stood side by side as the party retreated into the narrow confines of the mountain path, baiting the goblin leader and his wolf pet into single combat. Fighting with every last ounce, and in syncronized pairs, the group laid the evil goblin low with a combined assault and slayed his wolf pets too. The goblin mob, enraged at the loss of their master, threw themselves upon the group’s blades. They made short work of the goblin horde, and plucked victory from the jaws of defeat!

Missing Horse

Drayden Mistwalker, Jimbo and Ghost have all been looking for travel to Salest from the capital city of Calavan. The only rout possible is through the Goblin Pass and a man named Ofin and his friend Lemonheart were willing to take them for a reasonable price. But when they arrived at the wagon one of the horses named Sprite had been taken by Kobolds!

Ofin asked the three adventurers if it would be possible for them to retrieve Sprite and bring her back. But after battling through the Kobold layer beneath the large dead oak tree, they found the corpse of a horse. Upon returning to Ofin with the bad news and a few scrapes from the Kobolds and a large spider, they presented him with his deceased horse’s bridal. Ofin sadly offered them some gold and thanks for finding Sprite.

Now Ofin is down a horse and he has seven travelers looking for passage to Salest.

The travelers are a Warforged, Eladrin, Halfelf, a Minotaur, a large man with tattoos and broken shackles on his wrists and a Halfling. Together they will ride the dangerous road to Salest, a road that Ofin claims he has never had a problem on.

The Beginning...
The Beginning

A covered wagon rocks back and forth as it travels down the winding path beneath the great sculpture of the minotaur carved out of the jagged rock and stone. Its depiction of the great beast hurling an axe through the side of the mountain sends chills down the spine as the wagon moves slowly onward, pulled by four grey oxen while two gruff looking men sit perched at the front, the skinnier one holding the reins.

The cargo: various fruits, vegetables and six travelers on their way to Salest from Calavan.


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