My name is Soren. I’m a man of few words, but it looks like me and my teammates are going to do some big things in the world. I thought I’d tell the story while I still can, so the bards can sing of my adventures for years.

While travelling with a caravan to the next town, I smelled a storm coming. The sky ripped open with rain, and I ran for some ruins. Some others were already there. Some people and some goblins. We shared a small room for a little while, but then a horde of rats came out of nowhere and swarmed us. I started swinging at them when those dirty goblins pounced on us. The bald guy in robes yelled “Stormpeace!” I don’t know why he thought this stupid truce, one caravan-goers believe will protect them from enemies during storms, would actually work.

While he was busy screaming, I was cutting rats and smelly goblins in half. When I was done, the halfling (who was riding a wolf bareback) says that we should go deeper into the ruins. I really don’t know why I agreed to that, but there I was, fighting more goblins, hobgoblins, and a zombie. At least I got a little money out of it.

Kill count: 1 rat, 3 goblins, 1 hobgoblin, 1 zombie bugbear.