Once upon a time a group of heroes ran through the woods toward the seaside town of Innsmouth. They had heard of an impending undead attack on the city and were racing to its defense.
Even while making great haste, they remained on constant alert. So when they heard the snap of a twig, they stopped and prepared for the worst. But this was no frightening fiend or sinister horror, but some children crashing through the woods.
The group watched the kids sprint away deeper into the forest and paused. Yes, Innsmouth was in trouble, and, yes, the fate of the entire world could hang in the balance, but heroes do not abandon innocents that need them! The town would have to wait. These kids needed help and, by the gods, they would be their saviors or die trying!
At this point undead raptors were spotted on the left just as an undead Tyrannosaurus emerged from the right.
After a few moments of hiding in silence the archer muttered, “You know, it looked like those kids were just playing. I think they’re fine.” The others agreed and the group resumed their trek to Innsmouth.
After a brief encounter with a shy bugbear that nearly killed the druid, they caught their first sight of the town. In a way, this homecoming was almost comforting. The familiar town hid behind a sturdy palisade, and the ocean waters glittered as twilight approached. What was less comforting was the sea of zombies surrounding the barrier, clawing to get in.
“You know,” muttered the archer, “it looks like those zombies are just playing. I think the city’s fine.”
But on closer look the group noticed a cage hanging from the barricade, just out of reach of the undead below. And within this cage was a lone figure, Elida, the monk’s second favorite halfling! Though she had been a tenuous ally in the past, no one deserved the grisly death that awaited her beneath the cage with outstretched arms and gnashing teeth.
No, the Bard would not leave her in her time of need! Calling upon his great strength, he tore open the very fabric of spacetime and teleported directly into her cage. There he found an exhausted Elida, barely capable of opening her eyes, but alive. Heroically, he gathered her and was preparing another teleport when he realized that there were only a few thousand zombies beneath them. The Bard looked down and smiled. These were just the sort of odds he enjoyed. So, staying behind of his own free will, he began to hurl spell after spell into the undead mass below.
From his vantage point he was aware of his followers joining the fray, and they too began to dispatch the zombies. Steel met flesh, arrows met the faces of cultists, and the Boss had apparently convinced a small group of undead to defect. Through it all, the Bard assailed his many foes.
How many had he slain? 200? 2000?! The Bard let out a manly roar (not a fearful cry) as he allowed himself to be overcome by bloodlust. His rampage may have lasted forever if not for the timely arrival of the druid, who was currently in the shape of a giant ape. Using her immense strength she hoisted the cage off the wall and dragged it into the relative safety of the desolate city beyond the palisade and pried the cage apart, freeing the pair of halflings.
They had rescued Elida and made it back to the city, but they were once again separated from their group. For now, the wall both protected them and prevented them from signalling to their allies. One thing was sure though: The zombies would continue their assault and the wall could not stand forever…
Coda: It would be a few hours later but, huffing and puffing, the metal man finally cleared the forest and stomped into the zombie-infested battlefield. His marathon of 500 feet was taxing and the fighting was long over when he arrived. Before he glumly turned around to regroup with his allies, he briefly looked very heroic outlined against the night sky. This pleased the metal man, so his arduous sprint had not been a total loss.