Though somewhat rare on the whole, more than a few adventuring groups have wandered the face of the world. Some are remembered for the treasures they chased. Others made their mark by the foes they vanquished, whether ferocious monsters, scheming villains, or warmongering tyrants. A select few are even remembered in the songs of the bards for the mighty deeds they performed, the name of their guild echoing through the ages.
Partyocalypse, on the other hand, is known for throwing a party.
This was no ordinary celebration. Certainly, the people of Usaw were grateful to be rid of the pretentious necromancer that had been bent on their destruction. The heroes, sent by the council of nearby Tigora, even assisted in the preparations for their own congratulatory feast. As they drank and danced late into the night, the full hedonistic energy of the Feywild itself suffused the hosting inn, and a mysterious water brought bacchanalian delight to all who partook.
Then, it all blew sky high.
The well at the center of the celebration erupted with destructive energy, ripping apart the building and the revelers. Some kind of entity was released, and other fiends surged forth to plague the town. Even once these monsters had been subdued, our brave adventurers were far from absolved. Through many trials, deep in the forest of Mossweave, they washed their hands of the village’s ills, and returned to the great city-state of Tigora to ply their trade as swords for hire.
Having heard of a particularly lucrative opportunity to work for the king of the dwarven city of Bur Hanv, our heroes succeeded in passing his trials and securing a contract. Now, they prepare to scour the Thrashing Sands, the deadliest desert in the known world, for a god’s library resting quietly in myth. But first, they’ll need water…