There was once a group of travelers; a wizard, a sorceress, a paladin, a fighter, and a ranger. How they met is unbeknownst to me, however I do know what it was that they were to do. They gathered in a tavern, discussing their next course of action to bring in some coin. The wizard, Silvanus as he called himself, suggested they begin searching for a job. The sorceress, Sahalara, disagreed and said that they should travel in search of dungeons. The paladin, Thomaston, who served no gods, thought it best to seek out demons and destroy them. The fighter, Mareth, wanted nothing more than to spill the blood of her enemies. The ranger, Iorik, remained quiet on the matter.
As they argued over ale and mead, the door to the inn was ripped off of its hinges. They turned to see what feat of strength this was. A large green arm and shoulder tried to fit through, but the door was much too small. A loud crash and splinters followed. After the dust had settled, the intruder was revealed. A large green troll clad in scraps of leather piecemeal, hanging a large sack over his shoulder. His amber eyes peered through his stringy hair that resembled vines. What appeared to be a small tree adorned his head in conjunction with his bulbous nose.
"Ale." He shouted.
The monster made his way to the bar and reached over, taking a cask without waiting for the barkeep to reply. He snapped off the tap and guzzled the liquid gold. It was amazing to watch, the entire barrel emptied within seconds. An unthinkable act to down that much alcohol, at least for any normal being. Upon finishing, he dropped the cask. It clattered on the floor and rolled away. He stomped towards our heroes, placing his hands upon the table. The wood cracked and buckled from the immense weight. They cautiously stared at him, hands on their weapons, ready to cast a spell in a moments notice.
"Me boss, he say me go find people. He have job you do for him."
They were a bit confused, I could tell. Even I had no idea what was in store for them. Being low on coin as they were, what choice did they have but to accept? They readied their equipment, paid their tab, and ventured out into the wild blue. The barkeep was just glad to have them all out. The troll especially, now he would have to have costly repairs done, but I digress.
"Me say it about two days walk. Better get stuffs so you no die. Me hear there be bandits, hundreds of bandits!"
The party took the over-exaggerating troll's advice and made sure they were all stocked up on potions, rations, and whatever other miscellaneous items they would need. Thomaston could sense the troll was evil, and made sure that the group knew it, but again, their empty coffers persuaded them to follow. That and they didn't want to be eaten. With packs full and ready, they left the town. What was to follow, is truly a tale worth telling a thousand times over.
The path was rather easy. They shared stories and learned a bit about the troll, though he was reluctant to tell them too much information. His name was Urmalog and his lord, a master wizard named Pictannius, had discovered him trying to peddle his wares. Urmalog said that he had the finest goods in the land and even showed the adventurers, but the disillusioned troll had only shown them a sack full of rusted junk. He had attempted to sell Silvanus a length of rusted chain, but to no avail. Pictannius was very powerful, Urmalog claimed that he even had the power to travel through time, but it seemed rather unbelievable. As was just about everything that came out of his mouth. Our heroes would have to find out for themselves what sort of man this Pictannius was.
Night began to arrive and the party needed to stop for rest. Urmalog immediately began setting up three tents. The party had assumed that the tents were for them as well until the troll elaborated on his reasoning for the three tents.
"Urmalog have three tents. One for Urmalog. One for Urmalog stuff. And one in case bandits attack they think there be more than one Urmalog."
It was a clever idea, but left a sour taste with the group. Urmalog settled in, Iorik scaled a tree and secured himself to a branch, Mareth said to hell with the troll and slept in the empty tent, and the rest of the party rolled out their sleeping rolls underneath the stars.
Deep in the night, kobolds crept on the party. Mareth's sword pierced the heart of one bold enough to search her for valuables. She alerted the rest of the party to the danger. With sword, spell, and arrow, they defeated thieves. No thanks to Urmalog, who snored louder than a dragon and just happened to wake up when the danger was over. There was no use getting angry with the troll though, he could easily crush them all single-handed. After their brief encounter, they packed up and hit the road, ready to meet Pictanius and maybe get some coin.
