The sun shines on Carynma, a fairly well populated town that saddles the north west of the Great Range. Here traders from all corners of the world pass through, buying and selling or merely resting and restocking before moving on.
With high summer in place, the market and inns are abustle with visitors. Boxes and carts litter every space and the cacophony of trade buzzes through the air.
The Wench and Goblet; an Inn well known for its fair share of mercenaries and adventurers – bustles with those who seek refreshment after long journeys guarding caravans (or, some might suspect, attacking them).
Three people who, one would think, would not normally occupy the same space – find themselves crushed up on a small window table – trying to enjoy a drink and some food. With the close confines, and considering some of the clientele, the Inn Keep – Cuthsi – is doing his best to ensure all remain jovial. He approaches this one far table, and offers them all a free drink if they can tell a tale or two that will entertain him and those that listen.
Jaric is first, telling of his first great loss. Trying to defend a small group of travellers against bandits, regaling those around him with tales of sword play. Only to end with the loss of those he tried to save, under the crushing white waters of a fast flowing river.
His companions – two Faury (overly burdened with their own weight) consider telling a tale of debauchery and sin, but the time does not appear quite right.
As those around let the maudlin tale sink in, a scream shatters the air. Outside their window a man stumbles past – blood pumping from the stump that used to be an arm. More screams and havoc erupt as the Inn empties to try and gauge the trouble.
Jaric, ever the hero – rushes through the door, into a square of carnage. All around him wasp like creatures buzz through the air, the size of cats – they seem to have a tremendous wallop with the large pincer claws adorning their carapace. Even as Jaric made ready to leap into this deadly affray he witnessed a trader ripped in two, as one snap-wasps claws flicked out – releasing a loud clap as they did so.
Two of the beasts flew towards this new target whilst another cunningly buzzed past and into the inn properly, to confront the cowering Faury within.
Blades flashing and deft footwork preventing any telling blows, Jaric quickly dispatched his foes. Only to find, on his return into the inn, the final creature twitching in its death-throes on the floor. Powerful magic has seared the creatures mind into goop.
Barely a minute passed until all the creatures had been dealt with around the town square; other soldiers and citizens having dealt with them.
A brief investigation found cracked open crates with a dirty comb like filling – the snap-wasps had obviously burst forward from within. And nearby the luckless eviscerated corpse of the trader who had brought them, probably (one of the Faury informed them) to trade with the Belg of the north; who consider the beasts a delicacy.
Normalcy was quickly restored – it’s not a summer trade if some rampaging beast isn’t let loose in Carynma. But the quiet wouldn’t last for long.