Once upon a time a group of heroes — after determining the dragon’s lair WAS guarded and not worth the bloodshed — was racing for the coast on the prestigious Academy Island where they had learned via scrying that the undead invasion was in full swing. There was gloom in the air, as they had done this sprint before. Once again they stood on the edge of a precipice, once again a great evil threatened to swallow another island whole. The heroes had seen this happen on two other occasions — at Dis and at Innsmouth — and vowed that they would not let it happen a third time!
As they made their way to the coast it became clear that they were not too late, but only just! The fighting had clearly been long and vicious as they were greeted by the grim sight of rows of tents and cots filled with the moans and cries of the recently wounded. Scanning the crowd for signs of some authority, they eventually spotted one of the schools’ mighty arcanists directing soldiers and tending to the wounded.
The brave adventurers approached the arcanist and a deep silence fell over the healthy and wounded alike as all eyes turned to face them. Were these the legendary heroes they had heard so much about? The fearless gladiators that slew the bulette? The gallant heroes that expelled the pirates of Innsmouth without firing a shot? The panty-charming Bard and his roadies? Perhaps they were not doomed after all!
The arcanist, though weary, was happy to see these new reinforcements. “Grand heroes,” he sighed, “your timing could not be better. Our mages fight hard, yet, inch by inch, an undead army continues to push us back. Their numbers seem limitless, though even fiends can not appear out of thin air. Our scouts report ships filled to the brim with undead, bringing them from the southeast, though none could confirm their origin.”
Southeast? There was only one place the ships could be coming from and the adventurers knew it well. The familiar island of Innsmouth! When they were last there it had been ravaged by undead, and now it seemed the evil cultists were using it as a port for launching an invasion.
Informing the arcanist that they knew the island well, they made plans to travel there under the cover of darkness. The arcanist, though, seemed puzzled. “Is this not the same city that stories tell of a cultist who made you all run away like little girls?” The group assured him that, no, it wasn’t like that and also shut up, and also the arcanist was the real little girl. Still, their numbers were few and their journey dangerous, so the group began to plan how they might make their attack. Their planning caught the attention of a nearby dwarf who was impressed at their bravery and wished to aid them in their siege.
Approaching the heroes, the dwarf offered a case of explosives. With a wink he assured them that, despite their compact size, these bombs would be very VERY potent if deployed together. Armed with their new weapons, the group proceeded to the ruined city, unimpeded and undetected under the cover of darkness.
As they approached the city of Innsmouth, they noticed that it was much as they had left it, though a bit worse for wear. Many of the familiar buildings had been smashed open and handfuls of undead patrolled the streets. As they had feared, the docks were packed with undead waiting to board ships to sail to Academy Island. The only other sound that could be heard was a slight murmur coming from the nearby warehouse, a warehouse that was propped up on stilts. These stilts propped the warehouse above the land which made it accessible by water, water that was near the shore, which made up the land that lay passively under the warehouse.
The warehouse was likely the headquarters of this operation, but due to the complexity of the stilts, the party thought it would be prudent to attack from the air. In one swift maneuver a small group could fly from above, deploy the explosives into the warehouse, detonate them, and be gone before any enemy could retaliate. Their plan was foolproof.
The druid volunteered to shape-shift into a giant eagle to carry the archer, who volunteered to carry the explosives. The Bard, jack of all trades and master of most, would then be able to ignite them from afar while flying with his mystical lute. The trio flew into the night as the rest of the party stayed behind in the safety of the forest outside of town, ready to reinforce at a moment’s notice.
As they approached the warehouse, the trio could see shapes moving from within and a sinister chill was felt in their bones. The time was certainly right to end this evil once and for all! As they fell into position, the air seemed to slow for the archer. Suddenly, he became aware of every gust of wind, every drop of dew. Months of sharpening his bow skills had led to this moment and he could now see the exact trajectory the bombs would take before he had even thrown them. He could do this. In one quick motion he grabbed the explosives and lobbed them at the warehouse window without warning. He had trained his whole life for this moment. He had planned his calculations perfectly.
He had also skipped the gym that week. The satchel of bombs sailed through the air majestically like an eagle… piloting a blimp, crashed through the glass, and landed with a weak thud on the windowsill. Suddenly the shapes inside the building stirred and moved to the sound. As they approached the nearby windows the group could see that this was more than just undead cultists. The moonlight was just enough to highlight a flying, withering ball of flesh and tendrils. A horrible mesh of veiny flesh stretched over the mass as it glided to the wall of the warehouse.
Thinking quickly and reacting in a way that his allies would surely thank him for later, The Bard lashed out with a mighty ray of fire and made a direct hit with the bombs! The explosion shined as bright as the sun as it knocked both friend and foe away from the epicenter.
But the creature was not dead. On the contrary, it only seemed very, very upset. As the beast let out a pained roar the group felt that this might be an excellent time for backup and raced back to the tree line where the rest of the party was waiting.
They made it back in time to explain the situation to the group, but the sounds of thrashing limbs seemed right behind them. Should they run? Was this monstrosity too much for them?
No, not this day. This evil had had full reign for too long and they would make their stand right here and right now. They had been honing their skills for many months and were at full strength, they would not get a better chance than this to attack this foul beast.
The sound of the creature continued to grow as it closed the distance to the adventurers, but it was no matter. As long as they were all together they could fight any evil!
“Um,” said the archer, “has anyone seen the druid?”
“I thought she was with you…” replied The Bard.
Countdown to the end of the world: 48-60 hours