Tales of Corruption

Our journey begins in a small Vichian town near the northern border of Weimar named Oakhurst. Where a weary traveller, a feminine figure draped in a cloak, wanders through the small marketplace, her feet tired and heavy from many weeks of travelling. This woman was a Tiefling. Her skin had a purple hue and eyes gleaming a bright amber. Poking out from her ashen hair, a pair of pony horns reach out and back, betraying her demonic ancestry She quickly finds the local watering hole, an inn with a sign depicting a Boar on its hind legs, with a long beard and a walking stick. As it's still fairly early, the only patrons are a gaggle of humans playing cards on a corner table. They look up at the unfamiliar guest, raise a curious eyebrow, and return to their hands. Makes sense, she thought, Tieflings are probably few and far between this close to the border. She approaches the bar, where the Innkeeper, a grizzled old human with a large scar along his left cheek, spit-polishes a dirty glass. Behind him is a small collection of oddities on a crooked wooden shelf.

"Uh, hello mister. Can I get a room? Please?"

The innkeeper glances up, then back down to the glass.

"Got one room. You pay upfront and you don't complain about the price."

"Oh, alright! How much?"

"Five silver pyramids. And your name for the log."

"Nemaia." She tosses a gold coin onto the bar. "And maybe something to drink?."

The innkeeper takes the coin and slides over a mug of frothy ale, along with her change, three triangular silver coins. Nemaia takes a long sip of the ale, and takes a look over to the wall, where a community noticeboard has been set up. Better find some work, she thinks, the gold I stole from those border guards won't last forever. She examines one of the more recent notices. It tells of four missing locals, a group of would-be adventurers, who delved into some kind of citadel some weeks ago, and hadn't returned as promised. It told to see either the general store owner or the guard captain for further information. Nemaia quickly finishes her drink, takes the notice, and leaves, depositing the empty flagon on the bar.

A bell chimes, and Nemaia's nose is assaulted by an amalgamation of many different scented candles. She slowly steps into the store, where supplies of all kinds line wall-to-wall shelves. She glances around briefly, before turning to the counter, where a middle-aged woman, her dress hanging low over a pair of huge, milky, breasts, wipes her red and puffy eyes. Her hair is dishevelled, and she looks like a mess.

"Um, excuse me miss? Is everything ok?"

She looks up, clearing her throat and tidying up her hair. "Yes, I am. Sorry you had to see that." She clears her throat. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I think so, I was told to come see you." She presents the missing poster to the woman.

"Oh...yes. Wait, you're willing to help? Oh, thank you!"

"Yes, yes, of course! Can you tell me when they left?"

"They left about a month ago. My son Talgen, my daughter Sharwyn, and two of the guards. They headed west, to the ravine. It's been full of Goblins and Kobolds for years, I suppose they finally had enough, wanted to get rid of them."

Nemaia shudders at the mention of the creatures. She'd heard many a story about what they did to unlucky adventurers, especially the women. "This ravine, how far is it?"

"About a mile from town."

"Thank you, miss. You'll have your children back in no time."

"A hundred thanks, young miss. What should I call you?"

"Nemaia, a pleasure. May I ask your name?"

"Kerowyn of the house Hucrele. My family is wealthy, Nemaia. If you bring them back safely, you can depend on a healthy reward."

"Thank you Kerowyn, I'll leave first thing tomorrow."

Kerowyn gives her a nod of thanks, and Nemaia leaves the store, the bell chiming again to signal her departure.

That night, Nemaia lays upon a lumpy mattress, drifting in and out of a fitful, dreamless sleep. Eventually, she lets out a heavy sigh, reaching down between her toned thighs and towards her virgin lips, neglected from so long on the road. Her self-indulgence is disturbed, however, when the sound of a large signal bell rings throughout the village, accompanied by a woman shouting outside.

"Alarm! Alarm! They're back! The creatures are back!"

Nemaia jumps up, shaking the grogginess from her mind as she throws on her armour and snatches up her bow, before leaving the room. Running down the stairs, she sprints out of the Inn, kicking open the door. She's met with the sight of two guards, swords drawn, facing off against a trio of small, humanoid plant creatures, with razor-sharp claws of splintered wood.

The first creature turns to the interloper, and rushes at her, brandishing its claws. It makes a swipe at Nemaia, slicing her leg. She lets out a scream of pain, before kicking it away and firing an arrow down at the creature, skewering it in the dirt. The male guard takes a low swing, cleaving one of the creatures in two, before the remaining one leaps onto his back, clawing at his flesh. The other guard, a woman, yanks the creature off of his back, throwing it to the ground and stomping it with a heavy boot until it ceases moving.

With the danger subsided, the guards breath a hearty sigh, sheathing their weapons. One of them looks over at Nemaia, and takes her helmet off. She's a tall Half-Elf, with short brown hair and piercing green eyes. She looks uncomfortable in her armour, a pair of heavy tits squashed into a tight breastplate.

"We appreciate the assistance, civilian. What's your name?"

"Glad I could help. My name is Nemaia, and yours?"

"I am Sergeant Felosial, I command the 7th Armoured's Oakhurst detachment, and this is Private Nunal."

The second guard nods at Nemaia. He winces from the wounds on his back.

"Pleased to meet you. I've never seen these creatures before, what are they?" As Nemaia speaks, she bends down to pry his arrow from the creature's chest, her ass on display to any patrons made curious by the fighting.

"We aren't sure, they've been attacking us every few nights for the last month or so. They never come in large groups though, rarely more than three or four. We think they might be connected to the Goblin population in the ravine to the west, but we can't be certain."

Nemaia finally yanks the arrow free, frowning as she sees its broken head. She tosses it aside. "As it would happen, I'm heading that way at sunup. I'll be sure to investigate while I'm there."

Felosial smiles. "Thank you, you would be doing Oakhurst a service. Oh, and before you go, two of my men went down there just before the creatures began to attack. Sergeant Braford and Corporal Karakas. Could you look for them?"

Nemaia nods. "Of course"

"Thank you again. If you can bring them back, or at least bring proof of their death, I will be inclined to show my appreciation. A hundred and twenty five gold pieces for proof of death, double if you can bring them back alive."

"Thank you, I'll head out first thing tomorrow."

She bids the guards a goodnight, heading back upstairs. She slumps back down onto the bed and tries to get as much sleep as she can before dawn. She huffs, no longer in the mood to touch herself.

It doesn't take long for Nemaia to find the path to the ravine, an old dusty trail carves through the forested surrounds of Oakhurst. She sets off without delay, a month is already too long. She wasn't familiar with either Goblins or Kobolds, having lived a rather sheltered life, but she'd often hear stories of petty violence and mindless cruelty at the hands of such creatures.

Nemaia walked for roughly half a mile before finding anything of note in the forest. What she found was...nothing. The entire area for the next half mile or so was completely devoid of any life. The only thing interrupting the blackened soil being patches of dead grass and the occasional tree, bare of any leaves and with bark blackened to soot. A shiver runs up Nemaia's spine, but she presses on.

The old road passes to the east of the narrow ravine. At the road's closest approach to the cleft, several broken pillars jut from the earth where the ravine widens. Two of the pillars stand straight, but most lean atop sloped earth. Others are broken, and several have apparently fallen into the dark depths. A few similar pillars are visible on the opposite side of the ravine.

A sturdy, knotted rope is tied to one of the leaning pillars on this side of the ravine.

The chasm runs for roughly 30 feet in either direction, and goes down too far for even Nemaia's eyes to see.

The pillars are worn, broken, and covered in graffiti, written in a green paint. He doesn't recognise the language, but the characters appear to be from the dwarvish alphabet.

Nemaia investigates the surrounding area, and finds evidence of many small campfires, some look to be as recent as a month ago. The scorched wood has been covered with dirt and scattered, whoever camped here wanted to hide their tracks from casual scrutiny.

Satisfied with her perusal of the area, Nemaia turns her attention back to the ravine, and the knotted rope. She grasps it in one hand, and takes a careful step off the ledge, clutching the rope as she slowly descends into the darkness.