Bobos was in a characteristically good mood. The battle versus the forces of the Horde had gone well and the incursion of green-skins into Dun Baldar had been stopped at the bridge. Battlemaster Vanndar Stormpike had been pleased; the dour dwarf leader had even consented, if a bit grudgingly, to the preparation of a feast in honor of the Stormpike Militia’s victory.
By random chance I had been seated next to Bobos at the great oak table, and as the beer flowed, so Bobos began to reminisce aloud about the circumstances that had brought him to this point in his storied career.
I began to put pen to paper…