~Bainhill: A fortress that was once the last line of defense for an ancient kingdom, now home to a prosperous town in the heart of the Shan Empire. Nestled comfortably in the hills but a week's ride from the capital, it is known as a peaceful, if lively, place. That is, until the hordes came.
No one knows where they come from, or what their motives are. A virtual army of the undead, led by vile goblins, has been raiding the town nightly for the past month. Even an entire battalion of Shan's finest, led by Bainhill's own captain of the guard: Rhaimundos, has been unable to repel them. Now, Bainhill resembles a ghost town. Its residents, or at least those who remain, live in fear.
And yet, there are those who would brave the danger, be it for glory or gold: Millenian's Adventurers. In desperation, Rhaimundos has sent out a call for aid, and, whether drawn to Bainhill by the message or some twist of fate, five individuals have arrived. Little do they realize that this fateful meeting with have consequences that will ripple out across Millenian.
And this is where our tale begins.~
First Adventure: The Bane of the Hills
The Golden Arrow: Bainhill's most prosperous tavern. On evenings like this one, it was often packed with travelers and locals alike, and in spite of recent events, this was no different, save for the lack of the majority of the guard, who were faithfully standing at their posts on the decaying walls of the old fort that encircled nearly the entirety of the town. As a result, the atmosphere was a bit rowdy; the patrons drinking their recent sorrows away with little-to-no authority figures present to reign them in.
The interior of the establishment was rather roomy. Within a large hearth located on the eastern wall, a fire raged, and the tables around it, where the most warmth could be felt, were largely empty on account of the warm summer air both inside and out. Along the north wall of the room was the bar, behind which two lively (and rather lovely) elven maids were busy preparing drinks. The stools, save for a couple vacant ones here and there, were filled by local miners just off of work, though there were a few unknowns as well, perhaps travelers. One of them, a lanky man with brown spiky hair who wore a long black coat, seemed to have, by virtue of his presence alone, emptied the stools on either side of him. In contrast, there was another: a burly orcish gentlemen clad in scaled armor (though most definitely not one of Orva's brutal giants of the same persuasion), around whom several patrons were gathered. He seemed to be regaling them with tales of a faraway land, and his adventures therein.
The west wall, by which the only staircase to the lodging on the floor above was located, was packed with more patrons, though many of them were more focused on their hot meals (or the tavern maids who served them) than they were on one another, which was a situation that was bound to change for the worse as soon as the more intoxicated individuals at the bar made their way over. The only guests of note seemed to be a pair of city guards, as well as an unassuming, three-eyed demon eating by himself in the corner. Most of the guests were undoubtedly aware of his presence, but he seemed to purposefully be avoiding any trouble for the time being.
The main attraction, however, was the Golden Arrow's claim to fame: a nymph, known to the locals as Serene, who would nightly serenade the establishment with her lute and her lovely voice. She sat on a stool in the center of the hall, currently between songs and chatting idly with the owner: an attractive young man with a goatee who was rather anachronistically dressed in a modern suit and tie.
It was, by all accounts, a rather typical night, even if it was almost certain that Bainhill would come under siege once again in a few hours. As a result, few present paid any mind when the door opened up once again, and someone altogether unfamiliar stepped through.