Our story started off so innocent, so mundane, so very predictable in every possible way; that it seems that the very universe, or perhaps the gods themselves sought to change the well trodden of path of time that heroes chose….
Or, we could be responsible and accept the fact that some really, REALLY, bad decisions were made.
To summarize what scant story there is so far, it all started in a bar with a rather troublesome mold infestation, and a Warlock, Dwarf, Half Elf Soldier, and a rather apathetic Cleric decided to clear it out for a small fee. However. things quickly went south after walking down the basement stairs proved to be a dangerous obstacle. In the span of a few hours, using nothing but 12 bottles of pure alcohol, a skeleton and a torch, the mold, the Myconid (Fungus People) invasion, and vermin within were turned into a fine pile of ash along the entirety of the Fussy Kobold Bar. Our heroes feeling tinges of regret (even as they gleefully accepted the payment long before their mistake was found out) decided the only way to right the wrong they committed, was to commit even more wrongs in the hopes of amassing enough wealth to rebuild the bar.
Now, fleeing across the Yulonian country side, the party hopes to reach the coast and start a new life amongst the brigands and privateers of Hammerhead Vale; and maybe one day, pay of the massive "tab" that they owe.
First they must secure passage, lest the authorities track their whereabouts…