They had been hired as a group. Their client: the city of Westmore. Their job: take care of any “extraordinary” events and happenings. The commander of the garrison is Commander Joltaur and acts as their point of contact for jobs as they show up.
Very shortly after their arrival a need arose for their specialized skills. Commander Joltaur came in and told them the Baron had not been coming to get his tax collections for a number of weeks now. A squad was sent to inquire, but they never returned nor were heard from at all.
The group set off in short order to gather supplies and head for the Baron’s mansion. As they entered the forest a group of Blighted Nyss Striders ambushed them. Rifle shots rang out as Krisonna Arroway hunkered down and picked off targets. Crossbow bolts sang through the air as Eilvyre Loreweaver passed easily through the trees. The snick snick of daggers finding home came from the smallest of the five, Stodiana Tumblebelly. A heavy boot fall and a sickening clash of steel on blighted flesh was all the greeting Gorknell Umberclash gave to the fallen elves. A clear voice, pistol shots, and a roar of a steam engine announced Thoril Battlebeard was present along with his mighty Steamjack Dashieel. The Blighted Nyss had little chance if any at all.
The road passed through the forest and it opened onto the estate grounds. Nothing was left of the house at all except a huge pile of rubble. A large hole had been excavated where the front door was. Around the rubble pile and near the hole were many more Blighted Nyss. These were carrying bows or claymores: obviously Archers and Swordsmen.
With smoke and fire, bow and blade the battle raged quickly and ended just as quickly with the elves meeting a swift end. The group headed into the hole finding a short passage leading into a smallish room. The hallway’s walls changed to show their individual exploits in the battle that just ended. In the room stood a short pillar carved in the shape of the dragon’s head. A secret door was found in the far wall.
Another short hallway with torches whose flames flickered without color opened to a larger room with yet another short dragon’s head pillar. Three doorways opened off this room, all three into storage rooms. Nothing appears to be here except a few blighted weapons and some random junk.
The party begins to leave and as they exit the tunnel they see two figures standing in their path. A well ornamented and heavily armed Nyss Abbott and a Champion carrying two claymores. A glance around told them they were surrounded by more of the weaponmaster swordsmen. This was not going to be easy.
The group acted like they had trained. Quickly dispatching the most reckless swordsmen while slowing the more cautious down. Eventually only the Abbott and his Champion were left. As Dashieel bore down on them along with the sights of a crossbow and sniper rifle. A mighty Trollkin with a nice big sword and a sneaky little Gobber moving around to flank. The Abbott’s resolve was not broken nor his courage destroyed, they both fell with fire and malice in their eyes.
A smooth stone rolled out of the satchel the Abbott was carrying. A greenish shimmer came from within though not a glow. This is one of the legendary Dragon Stones. One of three artifacts of legend and myth now come to light. When the three are brought together they allow the holder to find the nearest Athanc of a dragon. A mighty finding in a remote place, this should have been left unfound.