“I suppose your stories technically started at the moments of your births, and I suppose your births are somewhat important to you. However, they’re grossly unimportant to me, not to mention, gross. Aside from the fact that you entered the world, those gruesome and fluid-filled tales of mortal physiology are irrelevant now. Instead, we’re skipping right to the good part. Go on, think back to that day. Force yourselves to remember. Feel the heat upon your skin. Smell the acrid smoke. Taste the salty sweat staining your lips. Tell me you can hear the unmistakable roar and crackle, shouting, screaming…crying. This is truly your beginning.”
You are all suddenly choking on smoke. Stinging tears burn at your eyes and the smell of burning flesh forces your noses to attempt a retreat. All around you crackling flames lick at the walls and roofs of buildings. Beyond the infernos the sky is black, the stars themselves blotted out by the fires.
Adding to the confusion are men, women and children running in all directions. Many more bodies lie on the ground, some still smoldering with fresh flames. The sounds of crying and screaming fill your ears. An occasional roar or guttural laugh can be heard over the din – their orc originators dashing from one victim to the next.
You all get the feeling you’ve done this before – that you’re seeing this again. The scene is familiar. The place is…the place is Burroughs! You remember the name. The deja vue is fading. The moment passes and you’re in the thick of it. Burroughs is burning.
A group of orcs and goblins raided the village three nights prior, stealing foodstuffs, injuring three and killing one before the peasants drove them off. Unfortunately, the orcs perceived a very real vulnerability in Burroughs’ defenses. In the days after the probing raid the orcs likely sent a messenger to the mountains, making promises of food and plunder and thus, drawing more of their kin to the fight. The people of Burroughs did the same.
However they reached out to you, and with whatever reward was promised, you’ve all come to defend the people of Burroughs. It’s time to make good on your commitment.
“You remember then? The five of you repelled the orc raid in short order and discovered the clues that put you further along the path. The Black Wound tribe would prove to be a bane to the region, but not to poor Garon June, the poor Seven Lakes Sentinel. Something else claimed that man’s life.
You found June’s body in a cave, decayed to a point that was most unnatural. The note was there too, and his badge! Though neither were meant for you, they were better off in your hands. Of course, at this point you all were still so ignorant to the truths. Beasts made of midnight, shadowy skeletons, the badge of Inner Circle office, and a note that made not a lick of sense. Indeed, the mysteries were many. What would a good beginning be without ’em though, eh?
But back to the Black Wound tribe, for that is where you decided to focus your attention."
- Defeated the orc raid boss, healed Mayor Benninghem, aided Burroughs in fire fighting and treated the wounded villagers, spared the lives of an orc and a goblin
- Took up the task of tracking down the missing Seven Lakes Sentinel only to discover his body in amongst an oddly corrupted cave
- Fought and dispatched beings both foreign and unnatural – two made of darkness made manifest and four other skeletal creatures held together by vaporous darkness
- Retrieved the skull, armor, bow, shortsword, note and badge of Inner Circle membership once belonging to June
- Returned to Burroughs and decided to track down the Black Wound orc tribe to discover the reasons behind the tribe’s unusually coordinated attack and attempts to kidnap villagers, placed the skull of Garon June in the care of Mayor Benninghem