Campaign One: Chapter I - In the Swamps, a Beginning

A wagon blocks the Stumpmarsh Trail

Lunas 6th Concord, 30th Year of the Fifth Age

And so my chronicles begin.

It was thirty years since the High King was laid low on the fields of Godsgrave: thirty years since the dawn of a new age. In the north of Alagost, where once the petty kings of the swamp fashioned crowns from mud, four individuals of little renown came to be seated in the same wagon, trundling into the Fenmarrow Forest in search of sanctuary, coin, and purpose.

There was Callidus Archia, a green-cloaked rogue of mysterious repute, sent by his employer to broker a deal with a local moonshining gang. Beside him sat Visimar Von Tann, a drow of uncommon pallor, in whose belly a blood-hunger festered like a sickness. Vilwyn Amel, a towering firbolg from the northernmost of the Middle Kingdoms, brooded in solemn reflection, hands clasped over his holy symbol. And Lancion Strong, a warrior of high and heavenly ancestry, held a silence born of cold purpose. Each had their own histories and motives, but all four were bound for the same place: the wretched, backwater town of Correnwald, situated on the banks of the Ramman River.

Getting there, however, would not be easy. A black-fletched arrow pierced the neck of the wagon driver Arvin, casting him down into the mud. Goblins from the forest, with teeth filed into needles, had set up an ambush. Though the travellers slew their attackers with ease, one of their number revealed a dark and complex nature in the wake of combat. As Lancion tore a strip of goblin flesh with his teeth, a second persona came to the fore: a quivering historian by the name of Baesellor Rhelareon, who claimed that Lancion Strong is nothing more than a parasite, planted by the nameless 'Queen of Glass' in a bid to forge a champion - an 'architect' - worthy of serving her. Before the party could adjust to this sinister oddity, a high-pitched scream split the air, emanating from offroad. The party located a well-trodden path buried in the shrubbery and ventured out to investigate.

While Vilwyn led the party on foot, the ever-wordless Visimar scouted from the trees, and his silence almost put Vilwyn in the way of a disguised net suspended above the trail. Avoiding the goblins' rudimentary booby-traps, the party came to a yawning cave mouth guarded by goblin sentries. After felling the bridge to disable the guards' bungee cords, the party slew the sentries and entered the cave.

The goblins had a wealth of advantages on their home turf, from their innate darkvision granting them visibility in the shadows, to their use of secret tunnels and wicked devices to get the upper hand over their intruders. In the central tunnel, goblins on high platforms used cages on sticks to trap their enemies' heads with hungry rats, and Callidus was knocked from the ladder to unconsciousness in the creek below. However, Vilwyn's divine power revived the rogue while his fellows slew the goblins. In the eating cave, though the enemy's strength in numbers threatened to overwhelm the ragtag party, buzzsaw-wielding goblins and a sleeping bugbear lieutenant alike were dispatched through a combination of stealth, superior power, and Visimar's blood-infused rapier that burned with magical fire. From the bugbear's buried stash, Callidus claimed a sword of his own - a magical liantasse blade of elven make - and took some time to study its power while Visimar scouted the rest of the cave.

A fully-stocked prison, complete with human prisoners in hanging birdcages, as well as the chieftain's throne-cave remained to be cleared, but Callidus' injuries prompted the group to exit and make camp in the woods, planning to return once all had recovered.

After thirty years of unrest, the four heroes of the Fifth Age had come together at last. Their beginnings were humble, their homelands disparate and their fellowship not yet forged, but their deeds will be recorded in the annals of legend.

And so it is written.