Never forget
what happened
last session.

Morning mist clung to the dense underbrush of the Estrada wilderness as two weary travelers pressed forward: Gilbert, the tall and curious minotaur with battle-worn leather stretched tight over his broad chest, and his younger brother Butcher, smaller in stature but fiercer and stronger, carrying the weight of his great axe and a singular determination. They journeyed from the coastal city of Port Swathe, their sights set on the sprawling capital metropolis of Riverfall, a path that led them through tangled woods and toward the roaring Estraden Channel, a silver blade of a river slicing through the forest.

As the brothers approached the crossing, their steps slowed beneath the vaulted canopy thinning above. The sound of rushing water filled the air, and before them stretched an old moss-covered log arching across the channel, a precarious bridge to the other side. Yet, before they could attempt the crossing, figures emerged from the shadows of the trees: four bandits clad in leather and cloaks, weapons sheathed but ready. Their leader, John, stepped forward, his voice sharp as he warned the travelers of the price for passage: their provisions or their lives.

Gilbert and Butcher, however, had a different kind of merchandise to offer: rocks. Not ordinary stones, but pet rocks, carefully collected and cherished, adorned with faces and cared for as companions. The bandits scoffed, uninterested in the trinkets, demanding food and weapons instead. The tension thickened as more bandits crept from the brush and riverbanks, encircling the duo with drawn bows and glinting blades.

With words failing, steel sang as combat erupted. Butcher, fueled by rage and wielding his greataxe with brutal precision, charged across the shaky log, its creaks threatening collapse beneath his weight. He landed heavily on the grassy bank beside John’s compatriot, Brad, striking blows that echoed with the force of his fury. Gilbert stood his ground, bag of rocks slung over his shoulder, ready to back his brother in this deadly dance.

The fight was fierce and bloody. Arrows whistled past, grazing armor and flesh, while swords clashed and axes swung. Butcher’s rage made him nearly unstoppable. Each strike was a promise of death. In one brutal moment, he drove a rock into a bandit’s forehead, embedding it like a grim trophy before cleaving through his skull. Another foe met a similar fate, a greataxe descending with merciless finality as Butcher taunted, “You should have bought a rock.”

Amid the chaos, one bandit, stripped down to his skivvies and carrying a bag of stones, pleaded for mercy, offering all his possessions in exchange for safe passage. Butcher and Gilbert’s intimidation left him no choice but to surrender his clothing and coin. Their business, it seemed, was thriving even in the midst of battle.

The tide of the fight turned swiftly. Sven, one of the bandits, fell with a fatal blow to the head, his body tumbling into the rapids. The remaining foes, though persistent, could not withstand the brothers’ onslaught. Butcher’s relentless fury, paired with Gilbert’s steady presence, decimated their enemies one by one. When the dust settled, only silence remained save for the rushing river and the soft rustle of leaves.

With the bandits defeated and their loot secured, including a substantial sale of their rock inventory, the brothers prepared to continue their journey. The Estraden Channel lay behind them, conquered, and the vast city of Riverfall awaited ahead, promising new challenges and opportunities.

And so, as the sun climbed toward noon, the weary travelers stood at the edge of the wilderness, their path forward clear. Having survived the bandit raid and proven the worth of their unique wares, they stepped forward into the unknown, ready to face whatever the road might bring next. With that, the session drew to a close, leaving the tale poised at the brink of their next adventure.