Once upon a time a group of adventurers set out into the world, righting wrongs and defeating dangers!
Today the group decided to return to the port city of Innsmouth to battle the evil brewing on that island. They weren’t very welcome when they were last there, but—never ones to hold grudges—the group decided to save the town from the encroaching zombie hordes (except for the thieving gnome bartenders that ruined their reputations, screw them). But the town was far and their time was short. How best to reach their destination?
“I’ve seen signs of druid activity nearby. I’ll convince them to give us safe passage,” said the druid.
“I’ll be your backup,” said the Bard.
“Uh… non-druids will be torn to pieces if you try. Go explore the coast line.”
So they did.
The Coast Story
The group of adventurers (sans druid) began their walk down the coast. For the first time in awhile the world around them was at peace. The sand was warm, the skies were blue, and there were no monsters or zombies as far as the eye could see.
“I know this place,” said the metal-man. The group halted at this sudden confession. After further probing, the metal-man conceded that he did not have much memory of his past but, yes, he had traveled here before, and recently.
Dotting the coastline were small caves that led deeper into the earth, and the metal-man began to approach the darkest one. Here at the outside of the cave entrance the group peered into the inky black and heard… nothing. It was a cave of black and stillness, not unlike a tomb, yet it called to them. Inscribed upon its threshold were runes that matched the very brands they bore upon their backs. Perhaps they could learn more about this mystery by venturing inside. The metal-man, whether due to the mystic runes that prevented his progression or just run-of-the-mill fear, opted to stay behind and stand guard while the others explored the depths.
The monk, the archer, the warlock, the boss, and, of course, The Bard went deep underground until they came to a cliff that overlooked a large water-filled basin a hundred feet below. Straining his eyes, the archer could see a small island in the middle of the pool with a dark altar at its center. Eager to explore, the group fastened a rope and began to descend into the basin one by one, with the monk trailing behind.
As they neared the water, the surface beneath them suddenly began to churn as shadows rose from the depths. The Boss, eyes wide with fear, looked up to the Bard and exclaimed, “We have to go back!”
No. That’s the opposite way from the adventure, thought the Bard.
“We can’t stay here!” screamed the archer as he frantically tried to climb the rope, but his ascent was barred by the Bard.
Such quivering mice, thought the Bard. Over the months he had noticed that the bravery of his companions could be intermittently absent, which meant it was up to him to lead the charge! With a swift slice of his golden rapier, he cut through the rope and the quartet tumbled into the water below. From the cliff above, the monk dove into the water after them. Now submerged in the same water as the lurking shadows—shadows that appeared to belong to large tentacled fish creatures—the Bard wondered if he might have miscalculated.
The group tried to swim to shore, but with mighty thrashes of their tentacles the fish monsters tore through armor and skin. The Bard could hear the dying howls of his companions around him. The water became thick and red. Was this his blood or theirs, and why was there so much of it? The darkness slowly enveloped the Bard’s mind as his vision narrowed. His final perspective was of a tall cloaked figure on the island approaching the water’s edge. Perhaps it would be easier just to let it all slip away. His destiny just wasn’t meant to be, it seemed. Maybe the Bard just wasn’t… magnificent.
NO! He could not let it end this way! The Bard’s legendary bravery swelled within him, and he was compelled to save his friends and himself. It was selfish to deprive the world of the inspiration only he could provide! He pried his mind from the clutches of the icy black and steeled his resolve once more. Digging deep into his significant power, the Bard concentrated with all his might and, with a sudden poof!, the group teleported away from the dank cave and far from the fish monsters.
The Druid’s Story
The druid trudged through the murky swamp, slowly but surely. It was not a glamorous or quick way to travel, but the swamp was still filled with life and she felt strangely at home. No matter the muck, the druidic symbols she tracked were still as clear as day to her, and whomever had left them had done so recently.
She followed the tracks until they led her into a large clearing. What she saw made her blood run cold…
“No,” she whispered, “it can’t be.”
Looming above her stood the towering roc they had encountered earlier that day. She expected to feel its mighty talons closing in on her, yet the beast merely stared.
Suddenly, a tall figure emerged from behind the roc’s nest. “Don’t mind my pet, she won’t hurt you. She’s still recovering after hearing the atrocious singing of a strange turtle earlier this morning. Still, it’s not every day that I meet another druid here. Tell me your story young one.”
The druid was hesitant, but seeing a friendly face was such a relief in this murky swamp that soon her whole tale tumbled from her lips. She told the mysterious figure about Clifton, the zombies, and Innsmouth and how important it was that they get there quickly. The figure took pity on her and with a nod assured her that, yes, it was very possible to get the group to Innsmouth.
The druid was overjoyed, but before she could respond a large crashing sound was heard through the trees. Bursting from the foliage stood the large metal-man, all alone.
“Where are the others?” yelled the druid, fearing the worst.
“Gone,” replied the metal-man.
“Are they hurt?!”
“Unknown.”
“Were you attacked?!”
“Unknown.”
The druid slumped to the ground. Just when they had caught a break, bad luck seemed to find them again. Still, the Bard was there to keep the others safe and they all knew where they were needed next. With any luck, fate would see them reunited at Innsmouth.
The mysterious figure motioned to the tallest tree in the clearing and it split down the middle, creating a wonderous portal filled with swirling lights. It was time to go. The druid glanced at the metal-man, his typically stoic disposition doing its best to hide his apprehension, and together they leapt into the portal to the world beyond.
Upon landing, they knew immediately they were back on their old island. They were greeted by the pack of lupine druids the party previously met, and the land and sky were just as the druid remembered them. Why, one might even doubt there was an undead invasion at all. Any optimism she might have had was quickly dashed when she saw the familiar gates of Innsmouth, but long gone was the peaceful fishing community. Now the gates were reinforced with steel and stone, protected by a battalion of soldiers, with thick iron walls branching off and embracing the city. It was truly prepared for war.
The duo reached the gates and demanded to speak to their old friend, the mayor! A lone guard looked their way. “Wot is you lot doin’ here? Ain’t no mayor here.”
But the druid would not be dissuaded so easily. “We have reason to believe that our friends are here and we will see them! They’re Milo, and Remi, and Kaicho, and…”
“Oh!” exclaimed the guard, “Kaicho ya say. Well, why didn’t ya say so.” The guard looked at her with a wicked smile and opened the gate. “Yeah, right this way, miss. Our boss will be happy to see you…”