It wasn’t the most comfortable camp, but it seemed secure. Fallen timber framed the space on three sides and there was considerable concealment by a pinewood thicket on the fourth. A fire, however, was out of the question as it would negate the tree cover.
The day had started well with light-hearted chatter as the companions took to the road. Noon found them having a light meal by a brook side and it looked as if the journey was going to be an easy one.
It wasn’t long after lunch, however, that they found the road blocked my an inexplicably fallen tree. As they tried to work their way around it they were beset by bandits. The party gave as well as they took, but were in the end forced to make a fighting withdrawal into the surrounding woodland. That is how they came to be in this small enclosure.
“That’s the last time I ever let you talk me into a side quest,” Theos the Cleric said to Balwyn.
“How could I have known bandits would be after the artefact we were asked to deliver?”
“What is it that we are carrying anyway?” Tristen the Archer asked.
“Let me take a peek,” Balwyn said, opening the cloth sack.
“Well?” Theos prompted.
“It’s just an old hammer.”
“Hammer? Is it a war-hammer or magic?”
“No, just a worn-out old hammer. Oh, wait a minute. Ah, the hammer is wrapped in a wadge of wanted posters of guess who.”
“So do you think they just want to stop people from finding out about the reward?” Tristen asked.
“I imagine so,” Balwyn said. “Let’s give this a miss,” he suggested tossing the fabled Hammer of All Creativity into the underbrush.