Did I tell you about the time me and my pals saved the town of Winterhaven? I can see that look on your face, friend, the one that says “Well you did a pretty lousy job of that,” but let me tell you, they’d have been a lot worse off without us!
So I was getting drunk and into trouble with a pal of mine, this human warcaster name of Salvador, and he says he knows a way we can make some easy money. I say great, because our booze fund was running low, and the next thing you know some mad Todoran noble is giving me a pitch about forming a chartered mercenary company as some kind of get rich quick scheme. I’m all for a scheme (though a plan would be too much), so I figure what the hell, and sign on. It’s me, Sal, the noble, a human gun wizard, some other shady fella.
Now you’ve heard the word of what went down in Winterhaven – how Cryx got together with them mind rapists to cut the bottom out from under the city and sink it into the earth. We were in town that day. We figured it would be a good idea to get out of town quick-fast and in a hurry, so we met up with the Watch to figure out how to do it. Understand – it started out pretty small-time, looked like a warehouse fire. By the time we figured out what was up, there were a pack of fat thralls up on the hill spewing out this face-melting acid all over the town. So what do we do? Damn right! We charge up that hill directly to those thralls! That’s what I’m talking about!
This was the first time I really got to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the new “company,” and for a bunch of pink-skins, they did pretty well for themselves. Marcus – he’s the gun wizard, he’d drop a thrall every ten seconds with those magic bullets of his. I’d see a skeleton explode, there would be a pause as he reloaded his piece, and then I’d see another skeleton explode ten seconds later! Like clockwork! Sal alternated between cracking the slave-takers in the head with his rifle and this horrible spell that burned things from the inside out. That mad Todoran charged right up along side me, dropped his shield, and started cleaving thralls in half! Impressed the hell out of me – I guess you don’t stay rich by taking a lot of shit from zombies! Didn’t see much of that skulky fella, except briefly when he’d jump out from behind something to jam a knife into the back of some thrall.
And of course, if the rest of them were doing pretty well, I was doing great! With nothing more than my hammer and my voice, I set to work taking apart thralls, necromancers, psychic monsters, enslaved man-machines, and whatever else the Nightmare Empire cared to throw at us. Some of these thralls were kind of old and busted, and one good shout would actually shatter them into a million pieces, which was awesome to see. I came up against one of those Warwitches, all prone to seducing the weak-willed like you hear about. You can rest assured that she’s not going to be seducing anybody after I caved in her skull with my hammer. That’s a bad hair day right there, right?! What? No? You people and your hair, I swear I’ll never understand it.
So we get up to the top of the hill, we take out these thralls, and I’m enjoying a post-victory cigar and flask when the other shoe drops – the town is basically flooded with caustic acid, the guard is down, the gates are shut, and the town is pretty much a lost cause.
At this point, some of the guys are all like: “Bedlam, I think that the post-victory cigar and flask are in kind of bad taste right now,” and “No Bedlam, I don’t want to engage in your traditional congratulatory head-butts, I’m too busy trying to find a way to escape this deathtrap ,” that kind of shit. We ran across some civvies who seemed a little less terrified than the rest, and from them learned that we could use the old mines to escape the town. They led the way, we guarded the rear, and a couple hours later we were safely out of town. Well, not so much a town anymore. What used to be a walled city had become a kind of soup bowl, only with caustic bile instead of broth, and wailing hungry dead instead of vegetables, and insane psychic slavers instead of beef. Maybe that soup comparison wasn’t too good. Bottom line is the town was fucked.
The survivors and us decided to make way for Falstaff, and so here we are. I haven’t heard word from the city since we left, and I don’t figure we’re going to. Honestly, seeing the state that place was left in, I don’t want to hear from whatever’s still there.
Regretfully, Sal and I were forced to part ways, owing to some debts he owed to some people back on the coast that I had no interest in paying. I think we parted on fond terms though. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again.
So like I was saying we saved the entire town of Winterhaven! Well, no, you’ve got me there, we didn’t save the entire town, since the town was scourged to the ground by Cyxians. But we did save the people who lived in that town! Alright, yeah, most of the people who lived in Winterhaven were either melted beneath tides of bile or murdered and enslaved in living death. Still, we saved a bunch of the people who used to live (because as I understand it, not a lot is living in Winterhaven anymore) in Winterhaven, and that’s still worth celebrating. So let’s celebrate! Drinks for everybody! On this guy!