Taras, a half-giant with a thick beard and a bone battleaxe. A Templar to deposed sorcerer-king Kalak of Tyr.
Magnetar, a young man fresh off the skiffs from the Sea of Silt, trained in the mental focus and physical prowess of a monk. A Wasteland Nomad, he carries shady past, and a shadier future.
Rhogar, a fierce but strangely honorable dragonborn, skilled at leading in battle. A Gladiator fresh off of the arenas, his status as a freeman is in some small question.
Nasir, a loner dwarf wandering from village to village, the spirits of the land following him as he goes. What destruction has led this Primal Guardian far from home? We do not yet know.
These four joined many others in the Caravan Square of Altaruk, a small merchant and trading village at the end of the North Fork of the Estuary of the Forked Tongue. Nergamman, a tiefling merchant of House Tomblador, had approached each of them with the promise of 40 ceramic coins for helping to guide the merchant caravan safely to Tyr- a 10 day journey to the northwest, across the Great Alluvial Sand Wastes. The reason for the extra guard? House Matron Varedia Tomblador would be travelling with the caravan to Tyr, in her magnificent carapace-litter, strapped to the back of the trailing Inix.
The journey was slow, and the terrain harsh. As the days advanced, some of the party noticed shapes following on the horizon- raiders! The guards all were on high alert, but the raiders ventured no closer.
In the midafternoon of the 4th day of travel, the hot desert sun gave way to a stinging sandstorm. As the caravan made fast, massive shards and chunks of obsidian fell from the sky, devastating the group, and knocking our heroes unconscious. When they awoke in the evening, they were much the worse from the sun and impact. While quickly scavenging some survival goods from the destroyed caravan, they discovered a shock: Matron Varedia Tomblador’s litter, now bisected by an obsidian shard, contained a crate of fruit and an intricately braided rope; indication of sorcery!
Before they had a chance to get their bearings, a large group of wicked elven raiders attacked, hoping to scavenge the caravan for goods and supplies. Weapons broke, and no less than Taras, Magnetar, and Nasir dipped into unconsciousness over the course of the battle, but the ministrations of Rhogar helped them to their feet again every time. At length, the elves were routed. The group gave chase, capturing one for questioning. A quick glance around revealed a rocky outcropping nearby which might offer shelter. As Taras showed the ruthless nature of a Templar, cutting of this elf sniper’s hand when she refused to cooperate, the rest of the group visibly blanched and elected to stand aside. Most unfortunately, the elf had no information for Taras other than the fact that her tribe had innocent intent to scavenge, and the obsidian smacked of sorcery. Disgusted, Taras put her out of her misery.
Before settling down for the night, the group noticed two points of interest; on the horizon, irregular bright flashes of white light coming from the tip of a distant spire- and in the small sheltering cavern, a hole leading deeper within the earth. It’s possible water or supplies could be gleaned from either- and who knows what adventure tomorrow may bring?