A young man slowly roused from his trauma induced slumber at the bottom of a dank pit beneath a starless sky. Aching and bleary eyed, he struggled to grasp the full extent of his surroundings. Confused, he shouted, “Con Dawg, you out there?” A moment passed, maybe two, before a strained voice replied, “I’m here Triple J.” Somehow in the midst of their mission, the last thing either of the duo could remember, they had been captured and imprisoned in their respective pits beneath black iron bars. A third voice joined the conversation, harshly warning Triple J to shut up or he’d be next. Triple J caught glimpse of a hooded figure in black robes, stained red with blood, passing by the top of his sunken prison. The figure passed him by for the moment. Sounds of a brief struggle could be heard as the figure removed another captive from the pit adjacent and escorted them away from where Triple J and Conan were being held. As the noise of the figure’s footfalls faded, Triple J began to feel a song coming on, busted out his bag pipes and blared a somber tune out into what appeared to be the dead of night.
Angered by this display, the hooded figure, along with a similarly dressed accomplice, returned to seize the raucous bard. Triple J was unable to evade their clutches from within the pit and was dragged up. As the two hooded figures began escorting Triple J away from the array of pits, the cunning youth discretely summoned an arcane hand with which he proceeded to de-pants one of his captors. In the chaos of the moment, Triple J wrested his arm free from his captor’s grasp and made a break for Conan’s pit. With their combined might, the two companions were able to break the locked gate above Conan’s pit and ensure the fighter’s release. The two allies made quick work of their would be assailants, severing head from body on both occasions.
With a chuckle and a jab, Conan and Triple J investigated the other surrounding pits. They found they were not the only ones being held captive. A disheveled gnome along with a pink tiefling and a masked humanoid figure were also found and released by Triple J and Conan. Wiping the mud from their pants, the collection of strangers finally took a moment to assess the full extent of their current situation. Though they had all been heading to or from the town of Alfield in their recent memories, they appeared to be in a very different place now. The world before them was bathed in varying shades of black and white, the ground arid and rocky beneath their feet. Where the forest bordering Alfield once was, now stood a twisted dark thicket of barren trees with branches like daggers, an ominous black structure resting on its edge. The road north toward Zadash was replaced by a winding canyon lined with jagged obsidian spires towering into the starless, moonless, black sky. The gnome was the first to point out, “We’re not in Alfield anymore.” as the twisted yet familiar nature of the group’s surroundings fully set in.
Not wasting any time with acquaintances, the pink tiefling strode off towards the stone structure and bade the others follow her. With a shrug, the uneasy band fell in behind her and descended into the dark tunnel just beyond the structure’s entrance. Their path illuminated by globules of light, the party wound their way down the narrow passage arriving at a torch lit stone hallway. Taking the lead once more, the tiefling walked with confidence down the hall until she felt one of the stones beneath her feet depress. The torches on both sides of her flared and scorched their unsuspecting victim. Suddenly aware of their eminent danger, the group gathered together to familiarize themselves with their new surroundings and their new companions. During this conversation, the tiefling’s shadow seemingly took on a life of its own and leeched some of her life force before being forced to retreat back into the darkness around the corner at the end of the hallway.
Triple J offered a healing word to the wounded, and the party cautiously proceeded down the hallway and around the corner. Confronted by an even longer hallway and two doors on either side, the party stopped to take a listen. Hearing faint moaning from the door on the left, the heavily obscured member of the group approached with all the stealth of a forge master at work. Shaking his silvery white haired head, Triple J sent his mage hand forward ahead of the crouching assortment of pots and pans and used it to open the door. As the door opened, three daggers came flying out into the hallway followed by a male voice shouting, “Who’s there?” Replying quickly, the tiefling shouted back, “I am your God!” Following her lead, the gnome aided in the rouse with the gust spell, making the tiefling’s hair billow. Three terrified figures, clad in familiar attire, emerged from the room, one falling flat on his face. The deified tiefling extracted as much information as she could tolerate from the babbling cultists before ordering their swift execution. Mercilessly, the gnome fired arcane darts through all three of their heads.
The tiefling, Conan, and the masked figure, all donned the black robes of the cultists while the gnome sought to dispose of the corpses in the torture chamber on the other side of the hall. Before dragging the first body completely in, the gnome took a look around the grotesque scene. During his investigation of the skeletons hanging on the walls, he caught a glimpse of one of their hands coming to life. As the dead rose around him, the gnome let out a yelp and his new compatriots came rushing to his aid. Conan and Triple J chided each other in jest, gleefully combating the rattling bones before them while the tiefling made another set fall to the floor in a fit of undead laughter. The gnome swung his staff with all the might he could muster, his whole body wracked with teeth clenching vibration from the impact of his swing against bone. Despite Triple J falling victim to the slam of one of the zombified corpses, the masked figure succeeded in delivering the final blow to the undead horde before proceeding to revive the unconscious bard with a curious solution. Extending a healing hand and the first hint of newfound trust, the masked figure tended to the gnome’s wounds.
“I’m Endrin,” the gnome chirped. “And I’m Soren,” replied the masked figure. Not sparing another moment on pleasantries in the foul catacombs they now found themselves in, the party headed back across the hall to the faint whimpering still persisting from the unexplored room…
