Morning of Readying 27, 576 CY
The morning sun peeked over the horizon, casting a soft, pale light on the cold landscape. The party stirred from their slumber, exhausted from the battle with the drider the night before. Slash the Bard remained pale and weak, the venom from the drider’s bite still coursing through his veins. Every breath he took was labored, and the clock was ticking. Hommlet—and a cure—was still days away.
As the group stretched and prepared for the day's travel, a comforting smell filled the air. TerryOr, the cleric of St. Cuthbert, had a surprise waiting for them. Over the crackling campfire, he cooked several pounds of fresh bacon he'd brought all the way from Hommlet. The sound of sizzling grease and the smoky aroma lifted the group's spirits, a small comfort amid their dire circumstances.
Slash, propped up against a tree, groaned as the smell hit his nose. The poison reacted violently to the rich food, nearly causing him to vomit, but Dixon the Dwarf chuckled heartily as he wolfed down the bacon, savoring each bite.
Dog, the ever-watchful ranger, was not as relaxed. Something didn’t feel right. His instincts gnawed at him, and as he stood, eyes scanning the road, he caught sight of movement in the distance. A large group of figures marched westward, straight toward Hommlet.
Without a word, Dog slipped away from the fire, moving silently down the eastern road to scout the threat. As he drew closer, his heart sank. A mob of over a dozen Norkers—vicious goblinoid creatures with tough hides and twisted faces—marched toward them. At their head was a humanoid figure draped in dark robes, bearing the unmistakable sigil of the Earth Elemental Chaos.
Dog hurried back to the group, the urgency clear in his eyes. “Norkers,” he muttered. “And one of them... a leader. Earth Elemental Chaos.”
Dixon's face went grim. He knew all too well how dangerous these creatures were.
The group quickly sprang into action. TerryOr, ever resourceful, crafted a bacon grease bomb from the remains of breakfast, its slick mess ready to turn the battlefield to their advantage. Dixon helped Slash onto the back of the horse, but the bard was still too weak, his stomach churning violently at the mix of poison and bacon.
Spugious the Conjurer and the Oleg Leafspring, half-elf magic-user/thief found cover at a safe distance, preparing their spells for the inevitable clash. Meanwhile, Dog took up a hidden position, his eyes locked on the humanoid leader who seemed to radiate dark power.
The Norkers came into view, their snarling faces twisted in rage as they marched. The air was thick with tension as the party prepared for the fight.
Then, it began.
Dixon charged, war axe raised, while Irving the Reluctant followed, bolstered by a rare burst of courage. Spugious cast Sleep, and several Norkers fell to the ground, slumbering beneath the weight of his magic. TerryOr hurled his bacon grease bomb, and a couple of Norkers slipped and fell, cursing as they struggled to rise from the slick ground.
Dog, ever the tactician, lay in wait. As the leader of the Norkers—the evil wizard bearing the Earth Elemental Chaos symbol—passed his hiding spot, Dog struck with precision. The two clashed fiercely, but the wizard, skilled in dark arts, narrowly evaded Dog's strikes and vanished into the woods, his escape leaving an ominous mark on the battle.
One by one, the Norkers were dispatched, their blood staining the snow-covered ground. But it had been a costly fight. Several of the party members lay wounded, their bodies battered by the ferocity of the Norkers' attacks. TerryOr moved swiftly, casting Cure Light Wounds to bring them back to consciousness, while Dog administered first aid, stopping the worst of the bleeding.
As the battlefield fell silent, Dixon and Dog noticed one Norker still alive, trembling in fear. Grabbing the creature by the throat, Dixon began questioning it in Goblin, his voice low and menacing.
“Where were you headed?” Dixon demanded.
The Norker sneered at first, but after a swift threat, it spat out the truth. “The Temple… the Temple of Elemental Evil is calling. The forces gather. You cannot stop it.”
Dixon’s heart sank. The rumors were true—the dark powers within the Temple were stirring once more.
With the battle over, the group divided the spoils. Each received 30 gold pieces from the fallen Norkers. Always resourceful, Dog took the time to skin one of the creatures, planning to fashion armor from the tough hide later.
XP: 157 each
Gold: 30 each
The shadow of the Temple is looming larger than ever before.
Spugior for Employee of the Month!
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