The dark and stormy night was neither dark, stormy, nor night. Amidst the belly of the once-flourishing Loudwater, her lackluster market square lay uninterestingly baking in the not-dark-nor-stormy late-afternoon sun. Five hardened strangers had been tapped by fate to share in each other’s pain, blood, and spoils of war. What seemed to be an effortless trek to the sands of fallen Netheril may just pose more risk (and glory) for those whom fate has asked to return the alabaster totem to it’s place of origin.
The newly-formed traveling company of unlikely strangers quickly gelled into a cohesive unit as they successfully fended off a pair of ambushes; Kobald raiders bent on stealing the mysterious totem. Effortlessly arriving at the Monastery of the Precipice seemed as if it was an occurrence handed to them by the gods themselves. Why so easy?