The Enemy of My Enemy

Skiddish

The party marches on determined to find the lost adventurers. They must leave the main road on their way to the citadel. After a couple hours they finally reach a chasm where pillars stand on either side. The pillars are of a indiscernible origin. On one pillar a rope hangs down into the darkness and gently sways in the breeze of the valley. The party stands at the edge staring into the blackness aware that they have found what they were looking for. Easily too.

Before anyone can attempt the climb down Roscoe checks the rope’s strength. As this is happening someone hears light heavy footsteps approaching. The party turns on alert and sees a half-orc clad in a large cloak of animal furs with a large sword at his side. The party prepares to question the stranger, weapons drawn, when Roscoe becomes aware of the situation.

“Traven. Finally arrived? You’re getting slow.”

“Always quick to joke ehh Roscoe? You are the one who pulled me away from my business.”

“Well this business is of greater importance. Are you in?”

“I came didn’t I?”

“We need you. Who knows how much light is down there.” Roscoe turns to the party. “This is Traven Outrunner. A ranger of these parts and an old friend. The Citadel being ‘sunless’ I thought we could use his eyes. Just don’t get in his way.”

Traven, accustomed to not making friends, looks over the party judgingly and follows Roscoe.

With that Roscoe and Traven descend into the valley beckoning the others to follow.

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