When Dragons Sleep

Shinnington is a small mining community located at the base of the Menol Mountains. Because the mines and other local businesses cater to the working class, there is a very diverse group of inhabitants. Humans, elves, and dwarves all live peacefully, based on their common ground of hard work.

Inside of Orrin Mace’s Tavern, it was business as usual. The sun had settled just an hour earlier, and the customers were steadily coming in and placing orders for food and ale. Scattered about the open bar room were small tables, most of which were occupied by various races of customers. Some were enjoying the food and drink while others were playing card games. At the bar sat Orrin’s brother Bishop, a local cleric, and his elven friend Thormir, a ranger who had just gotten back from a major hunt with some of the local higher-ups.

Bishop Mace had always grown up in the church, so it was no surprise when he chose the path of a cleric. However, he was by no means your stereotypical holy man. He was more of a fighter and adventurer, who pursued goals in the name of worship and righteousness, rather than conquest or acquisition of goods. If he took part in clearing out a cave or town, it was because he believed it to be for a holy cause.

Thormir and Bishop had been friends for some time, which is sort of odd for a human and an elf. They had come to know each other while taking part in various quest and missions for the local government. It is said that they both stopped taking count of who had saved the other’s life after about ten times. Bishop had the power of the gods on his side, and Thormir had the intelligence and agility that would rival any athlete. With his long bow, Thormir was a lethal character, and throughout the realm it was well known that you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of his arrows.

Normally a cleric would not be found in a local tavern, but in this case he was there to oversee security for his brother. Bishop never drank, but a free meal every night was more than enough to keep him coming back. When confronted by the higher clerics and priests, Bishop would always claim that he was keeping an eye on his parishioners, which was not far from the truth. Often times Bishop’s presence would keep some of his congregation from having ‘one more last one’ and embarrassing themselves in the tavern.

Mace’s Tavern was located on the outskirts of town, so it would often be the first place visited by travelers. It would also be the first place visited by people looking for trouble, so it was good for Bishop and Thormir to be in there keeping a lookout for any unfamiliar people who might have the look of trouble about them.

Just when Bishop and Thormir were starting to think that this night would be like any other, everything turned upside down. A man, holding a wound on his chest, stumbled into the bar and collapsed on the floor. Immediately thereafter, another man rushed in and helped the other back onto his feet. They were both quite dirty and looked like they had just left a battle.

The second man then quickly drew his sword and screamed "Ogres!" just as the doorway exploded into splinters and shards of various sizes.

A nine-foot tall male ogre stepped into the tavern, raising his club to take another swing after successfully bashing the door. Dressed in ragged leather armor over its disgusting wart-endowed skin, the monster’s putrid stench quickly filled the room. The tavern patrons began to run away, either from the site of the hideous creature, or simply from the vomit-inducing smell that emanated from it.