Lothar walked out of Hobbly with a sword, a leather jacket, and something to prove, at least to himself. He walked down a dirt road beside a dwarf and two elves, but somehow the experience seemed to be all about him. Most people in the Empire wouldn’t think a Troll Slayer, an elven militiaman, and an elven wizard apprentice to be background players. Lothar, however, felt the whole group had gathered just to expand his horizons. And, who’s to say it wasn’t so?
Less than an hour later, the party met up with a band of beastmen rushing out of the forest. F’lore positively cackled with glee, while K’nar readied his sword and K’shan started casting. Lothar wasn’t so sure he wanted the adventure to be about him any more. This seemed to be a good time to hand the reigns over to the others. Steeling up his courage, he unsheathed the sword F’lore had given him. With a quick appeal to Sigmar for courage, Lothar cautiously walked toward the battle.
(One fight later)
F’lore yanked his axe out of the spine of a fallen beastman. “That’s good fun ‘n all, but they’re runnin’ from somethin’…somethin’ I smell in there.” The dwarf started for the newly blazed path out of the forest. K’nar quickly finished cleaning off his sword and rushed to the dwarf’s flank. K’shan sneared one last time at the fallen creatures and stately walked into the forest. Lothar was the only one left panting in the road. He took a deep breath and started running to catch up to the group.
The trail led to the lair of a troll. The creature sat on the ground, crunching away on muscular beastman bits. Lothar froze, momentarily too frightened to move. He heard a deep roar as F’lore charged the monster.