Cait's Campaign Vol 1

The Port of Cina. A rich beautiful port, with all the best produce, seafood, and a marketplace filled with colorful wares ranging from the ridiculously decadent and gawdy to the simple and durable.
It's too bad for the wanderers perusing the wares that they are close to broke. Asking around four beings gather before the Artifact dealer's stall. It's one of the few stalls able to be locked tight instead of the open tent like stalls that surround it.
A human man and woman tower over a little elf-maid, a gnome, and a halfling with his riding dog. Their attire gives them away. The human man is a ranger, he smells of the woods even over the salty stench of the harbor air, if that wasn't enough he wears a bow and a cloak that shimmers of forest camouflage. The human woman stands a scant bit shorter than the man. Her body covered in armor and a shield on her back. She clinks as she shifts from foot to foot, her spear and sword tapping against one another in the bell like 'ting' of well forged metals. The gnome is grey, very grey, and dressed as one who prefers fleetfootedness and silence. The halfling reeks of druidic influence from the sandals on his feet to the twigs in his hair and his dog, though frightening has the air of one wiser than he should be. The elf-maid is dressed in the lovely colored clothing preferred by her race and musicians. Her spun gold hair tangles over her bow like gilding on a chair. Such a gathering of strangers is not odd in Cina, for many come here to book passage on ships or to continue to adventures elswhere.

Noctis, it was the name the other merchants had spoken. The man is fat, balding, and obviously drunk. If one could not smell the alcohol the flush on his face and the fluid of his motions would be evidence enough. Despite his despot look the wares around him are impressive to say the least. Buisness must be doing well because the fat merchant offers 2,900 gold up front and anything we want from his wares if they make it back alive. Or at least that's what those gathered could make out through Noctis' slurring.

The task seems simple enough. Travel to the Isle of Morrow and collect the Crone's egg. A large gem of legend that holds prisoner the evil god Forosei. A cannibal of a diety that completely, and literally, devoured the Nadeen people. Some anonymous benefactor has paid handsomely for it's recovery. Mara, the woman in armor, thinks it reeks of ill-fate. But she needs money and Cina turned out to be a dead end anyway. If anything wrong comes of it they could burn that bridge when they came to it. Maybe.

With coin in their pockets and task in their hands the group quickly splits up to buy supplies for the trip. It shouldn't take more than a few days, but anything can happen on the sea. The name of the contact at the harbor is Malcom.
Out of nowhere there's screaming and people stampeding away from snarls and yips. Seems the pack of mongrels that roam the alleys at night have decided to come out and play.
As the sea of people rush passed and the dogs move to intercept Mara takes point and Bryarbahn sent his dog ahead. Both the riding dog and the fighter clash with the mongrels and stop their advance with snapping jaws and shield.
Lorien, the elf-maid, runs to the sand dune by the wind tent and fumbles with her bow. Earamir, the ranger, breaks off to the right sand barrier and shoots a clean arrow into the haunch of one of the mongrels. Bryarbahn lets loose a stone from his sling causing one of the beasts to howl angrily.
With a swift sweep of her spear Mara takes one mongrel in the throat and digs the end of the spear into the dog gnawing on her shield.
The elfmaid strings an arrow and it whistles between two mongrels sticking fast between cobble stones. The Druid's sling gets tangled in his sleeve and the stray stone makes a puff in the sand dune.
Running up beside Lorien, Eramir releases an arrow that sticks fast between a mongrel's ribs. With a bellow Mara cleaves straight through one of the two living mongrels and into the cobble stone.
With a flourish of sand and blades the gnome pops out of the dune like a jack in the box, strangely silent, and ends the last mongrel without blinking.