The road crossing Gaul and Falworth was, at any other time, one of the most beautiful passes in the region, with many wealthy men and women traveling it for its innocuous and natural vistas. Now, however, was not just any time. The spirit of invasion brought by the warfleet landing on the northern coast had trickled down to the localized bands of goblins and Crocmen, who now began what seemed like surgical strikes on the remaining civilized population, though in actuality were little more than random bloodthirsty raids. Because of the threat of loss of life or property, trading had all but ceased between the villages.
Interestingly enough, this was possibly the worst circumstance the land could find itself in. What few soldiers were left were depraved and weak. The Crocmen, with the plunder and spoils of previously sacked villages, walked over the soldiers as if they were children. So far, Ardor’s small town had not experienced this fate, but with the way things were going, it seemed to be only a matter of time.
The town of Irrath, where Ardor lived, had problems of its own. Life was difficult for the poor and destitute before; the hard times had compounded their suffering. He did the best that he could to take care of them, but the wealthy of the area from which he “redistributed” wealth were becoming increasingly protective of their riches. And even when he succeeded, all the wealth in the world couldn’t buy food that the town didn’t have.
And so it should come as no surprise that Ardor needed to do something to help the people around him. He decided that he would travel to one of the larger towns in the region, known for its agricultural abundance and strong defenses, and bring back supplies for the poor. He wasn’t surprised that a small band of young men offered to come with him to protect the caravan and share in the glory of rescuing the village; he did not, however, ever expect that families with young children would seek to come as well, hoping for refuge in the large town.
Ardor was confident that he, along with his small band, could defend the caravan, but he nevertheless used his borrowed wealth to purchase the finest armaments he could get a hold of. Every man was equipped with his weapon and armor of choice. And so, prepared for the journey ahead, the caravan set off on the two-day trip.
Though the caravan was sent off under the jubilation of the townspeople left behind, Ardor’s heroic attempt to save his town will always be remembered as an ill-conceived plan. Half-way to their destination, the caravan was ambushed.
It happened in an instant. The Crocmen had waited for them in the hills on both sides of the road and ambushed them on either side. The men who Ardor had so carefully outfitted fled, leaving Ardor and the near defenseless townspeople alone to fend for themselves. As soon as Ardor could take in what was going on, he tried to calm what few families he thought he could save, gave them weapons, and told them to flee to the nearby Golden Rose Inn which was not far away. Most of the Crocmen were busy stealing the food and weapons left in the caravan, while four noticed Ardor’s escape attempt. And so there he stood, all alone…
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Ardor gripped the spear tightly in his hand as he stared down the approaching monsters. While he nervously swung the spear in their direction, they began to walk around behind him, surrounding him, slowly, yet in a terrifyingly menacing way, snarling and heaving their own weapons at him.
He spun his spear at each one in turn, trying to buy time less for the townspeople than for him to think something up. The creatures, however, cared little for their own well-being and took the offensive. Behind him one charged forward with a sword, letting out a great cry which terrified Ardor. He spun around yet again and the monster impaled itself upon the spear. Blood sprayed out of the wound in the monster and oozed down the spear, which Ardor then dropped, shocked by the life he had just taken.
The other three monsters also took the opportunity to advance Out of nothing more than instinctive will to survive, he flopped onto the floor dodging one barrage, and rolled out of the way of another back onto his feet. One more Crocman stood between him and his escape; the creature stabbed at him with the spear, and though Ardor dodged away, it struck him in the shoulder. Without thinking, he nearly fell backward, with the spear coming out as easily as it went in. With his vision blurred and his whole left arm rendered useless, he ran as fast as he could down the road.
He didn’t get far before he saw them lying upon the road, and through the tears of pain in his eyes, he could make out the faces of children. There were the families he had sent along the road. They were slaughtered. They had relied upon protection and strength Ardor could not provide, and now they were dead.
There was no telling how far the Crocmen were behind him or if they had chased him at all. He continued on for many hours before collapsing on the lawn of the Golden Rose.
Two weeks later found Ardor sitting on the bar stool amidst all the other adventurers and mercenaries at the Inn, his left arm still aching, but healing. As Lord Surez told him of the call for heroes to kill the Crocmen Chieftain, Ardor found an object to place his hatred upon. Whatever the cost, he was prepared to make the Chief pay for the lives his minions had taken.
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OOC: Sorry for the long post; I promise I won't make a habit of this.
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