Session 6 - Bandits, Blood, and Dark Omens

The journey to Dark End was a tranquil one, with the small party—Bomtom, Aran, Hyrne, and Galavan—drifting quietly along the marshy riverways. Their mission, delivering Yarwim’s brew, was straightforward, but the group could not shake the sense that greater challenges lay ahead. As they neared the bustling riverside village, they were greeted by towering watchtowers perched on stilts, and a spiked palisade encircled the town. The contrast between Dark End’s busy marketplace and the morose, downtrodden Hollow was clear; this was a place thriving on trade, though not without its troubles.

After unloading Yarwim’s barrels of brew, the adventurers quickly integrated into the rhythms of the village. They learned of the growing dangers surrounding Dark End and the nearby areas.

At the town hall, they sought the favor of Varnak, a corpulent figure who ruled with quiet menace, feeding his dog scraps as he mulled over the fate of his visitors. The conversation was fleeting, but the adventurers knew that their time in Dark End was limited, as they secured a 24-hour pass to explore the city further.

Bandit attacks were on the rise, particularly along the trade routes, and ominous reports of caravan disappearances reached their ears. Sensing a deeper mystery, the group took it upon themselves to investigate, following rumours that led them to the decaying Red Lodge—a once-proud hunting lodge now on the verge of abandonment due to rising lawlessness.

The Red Lodge was a day’s journey away, a trek through grassy marshland and rugged paths. Along the way, they stumbled upon a broken cart and a distressed merchant, Agnus, whose brother had fled into the night after a bandit attack. The adventurers, always ready to lend a hand, helped Agnus repair his wagon, but their conversation only deepened their sense of foreboding.

The Red Lodge stood weathered but sturdy on the edge of the wildlands, surrounded by looming forests and dangerous trails. Lady Gilma, a stern yet hospitable figure, welcomed them inside. She confessed her growing concerns about the boldness of the local bandits, who had been targeting merchants and travellers with increasing frequency. Gilma herself had noticed a disturbing shift in the bandits’ behaviour. Once little more than a nuisance, they now posed a deadly threat, and she feared they would soon move on Dark End itself.

The adventurers, determined to unravel the mystery behind the attacks, decided to spend the night at the lodge. As dusk fell, a trio of boorish men caught Bomtom’s attention. These strangers were loud and rude, drawing disdain from the other patrons, but it was the three large sacks under their table that piqued the halfling’s curiosity. Agnus, a merchant whose cart had recently been attacked by bandits, had mentioned losing three sacks of potatoes during the ambush. With a suspicion too strong to ignore, Bomtom decided to act.

In a daring and impulsive manoeuvre, Bomtom dashed across the tavern, weaving between tables and patrons, and seized one of the sacks. His nimble hands pulled it toward him, and in an instant, a cascade of muddy potatoes tumbled from the sack, spilling across the tavern floor. The room erupted in chaos as potatoes rolled into pint glasses, splashed onto plates, and upset the careful balance of the tavern’s patrons. The three men rose in fury, hurling insults and objects in equal measure. One launched a pint in Bomtom’s direction, while another flipped a table in an attempt to barrel through the room and make their escape.

Despite the chaos, the adventurers managed to dodge most of the men’s attacks, though both Bomtom and Hyrne took glancing blows from the flying furniture. As the men fled into the night, they hurled threats back at Lady Gilma, vowing to return with vengeance. It was clear to all present that the men were not simple rowdy drunks—they were thieves and bandits. Their stolen sacks of potatoes confirmed their connection to Agnus’s ambushed cart.

In the aftermath, Gilma expressed both gratitude and concern. While she was relieved to have the thieves exposed, she feared what would come next. The bandits would not take this confrontation lightly, and she worried about the safety of her lodge and the surrounding roads. The adventurers, realising they had stirred up even more trouble, agreed to scout the bandits’ hideout at Clifftop Green the following morning. Gilma hinted that this might be where the bandits were organising, and if they could gather information, they might find a way to disrupt the growing threat before it reached Dark End.

That night, the party rested uneasily in the lodge, though their sleep was soon disturbed by strange sounds from outside. Those awake heard the ominous pounding of hammers and the whooping calls of figures circling the lodge. Flickering torchlight and the smell of wood smoke filled the night air, though no one attempted to break inside. The unsettling noise continued for nearly an hour before silence finally settled over the building.

Morning brought no relief, however. Gilma ushered the group outside to witness the unsettling sight that awaited them. Nailed to the walls of the lodge were the carcasses of dead ravens, pinned in place with rusty iron nails. A grotesque offering or warning had been left behind—a small, crude wooden construct with a bowl of dried blood and ash placed outside the lodge’s entrance. Gilma was shaken. Never before had she seen such dark omens, and she feared that the bandits were no longer acting of their own accord, but were perhaps being driven by darker, more malevolent forces.

With the lodge under clear threat and the bandits seemingly more organised than ever, the adventurers resolved to head to Clifftop Green. There, they hoped to uncover the source of the bandits’ power and put an end to the growing terror before it was too late. First, they would scout the area, gathering as much information as possible before returning to Dark End to rally support. The ominous signs were undeniable—something dark was stirring in the wilds, and it would not stop until it consumed everything in its path.

As they prepared to set out, Bomtom, Aran, Hyrne, and Galavan knew that this was no longer just a simple job of delivering ale. They had become entangled in a far larger, more dangerous game. What began with missing caravans and stolen potatoes had now spiraled into a confrontation with forces unknown.