Train Bridge at Swarthmore College crossing Crum Creek

Chapter Synopsis

Finishing up a Game

Players

The Adventure Finished...

With one Final Swing

Aldern lay dead on the floor. That can't be it, that was too easy.

The room stared on.

Seconds dragged into minutes. Weapons drawn at the ready, mages hands raised spell's dripping off their fingers.

Sellie made the first move, approaching the tattered body, two knives ready to strike. She kicked the body rather abruptly, the room jumped (except Burrito-kun. He doesn't have a working nervous, a flight/fight response isn't possible).

"I think we did it gang. Aldern is dead-dead." Sellie not raising confidence, never broke eye contact with the corpse.

"Grab all the shit you can hold. I want to get out of here. There is a warm cider with my name on it". Cilia was already out of sight, an armload of tubes filled with mysteries fluids sloshing as she ran.

The dead eyes of a once powerful politician followed the party out of the room. Condemned to an eternal hell watching a door that would never again open. The glow of magic illuminated the room, sealing the door in it's final state.


As the Party exited the mansion for the third and final time rats stood at it's regal doors. Watching tattered household items falling from the arms of the party as they ran to the horses. Tears rolling down the raccoons eyes. The rats realized they too, were losing a dear friend. Beady eyes glistening in the setting sun, watching the horses cross the horizon. The Rats knew what must be done, it was clear to them. They began cleaning and awaiting their masters faithful return.

The world burns, the rodent king will rise again.


Sandpoint was much like it always is, a bustling seaport town with traders coming and going with little fanfare. Nothing would indicate that not days before a major battle took place with hundreds laying dead in the aftermath. Signs stuck out of grass promoting a newcomer to politics; aspirations of fixing an unfixable government. His inviting smile and warm eyes seemed to follow wherever you stood.

A stench floated down the back alleys where a middle aged women was sweeping debris into a storm drain. A group of solders of all races marched past, pride dripping off of their smiles. The women did not know who these soldiers where but it was clear they had seen hell. If only she knew who they were and what they'd prevented. With the soldiers marched a small elven child and a pet raccoon, what odd times we live in she mused. The women continued prodding a rotting arm into the grates of the sewer system with a broom.

Saloon doors were slammed in the distance, echoing throughout the downtime area.

"No fucking way. The Hero's of the Hinterlands themselves! Sit... wait, head out back and take a visit to the bathhouse." The enthusiasm was addictive. While neither the hottest or trendiest bar of the city, the Rusty Dragon was THE SPOT to be tonight.

"After your baths you will regale us of your adventures. Rumors are already circulating the city. I won't lie either, a good amount of them were started by yours truly ... Why is Bili holding a dead raccoon."