The Salient Hollow

It began with a shake.

The ground trembled underfoot, the earth groaning in a way that seemed unnatural, as though something massive was stirring deep within the Hollow. And then, from the depths of the earth, they came. Creatures—ravenous, monstrous—burst out from the earth, their slithering bodies covered in acid-slick armor, dripping venom like cowards retreating from a fight. The party of adventurers, having just arrived at the scene, didn’t hesitate. They charged forward, weapons raised, ready to face whatever the Hollow had unleashed.

Introductions were brief; survival was the priority. Derek, a sharp-eyed rogue with a taste for trouble, dashed forward. Gleb, a brooding figure whose past was as murky as his motivations, cracked his knuckles. Bun Bun, a peculiar creature with a deep loathing for dirt, had already taken to the air, dodging the fight as only a creature that refused to be bloodied could. Ghodrat, the giant bug-man, bumbled forward with determination, his exoskeleton creaking under the weight of his enormous frame. Further, calm and composed, adjusted her cloak and nodded to the group. They were ready, or so it seemed.

The battle was chaotic. Monsters bled acid, scorching the earth and the adventurers alike. Derek danced around them with fluid grace, dodging their attacks, while Gleb hurled magic into the fray, turning the air to fire and brimstone. Bun Bun hovered above, making sure not a speck of dirt touched his immaculate form, while Ghodrat’s massive fists struck down one of the creatures, only to recoil in pain as the acid splashed across his skin.

It wasn’t until the earth groaned once more that the party’s resolve wavered. A massive Goliath, towering and formidable, crashed into the scene. He rolled into a defensive stance, going into "Tustudo mode" as Gleb would later call it. With his massive shield and a body like an iron wall, he absorbed the blows that would have shattered lesser men. The battle shifted in their favor.

Amidst the chaos, a Guild officer appeared, eyes sharp and assessing. He made a peculiar offer to the group—an invitation to attend a guild meeting, despite the fact that none of them yet had a house to call their own.

"You're not with any house?" the officer asked, his brow furrowing. "Doesn't matter. The Guild will find a place for you... if you prove yourselves."

After the battle, the party, wounded but victorious, made their way to the Verge, a tavern known for its cold corner and warm drinks. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wines, but for some, there was a more immediate concern. Bun Bun, ever the fastidious one, made sure to steer clear of any dirt or grime, refusing to touch the floor. He muttered under his breath about how he would “never be bloodied,” his usual disdain for the messy nature of combat evident in his words.

The evening passed in relative peace, save for the occasional playful jab between party members. Gleb, always the tactician, believed hormones were at play in the decisions of the night. Further, ever the quiet observer, simply nodded, a quiet smile playing at the edge of her lips.

By the time night fell, the question of where Barty would sleep was still unresolved. It certainly wasn’t going to be the streets, not on their watch. A brief conversation with Ghodrat led to an offer, though it was far too distant to be practical. Further offered his lodgings. This was accepted and Barty had a roof over his head for the first time in a long time.

The morning came with porridge. It wasn’t bad, though it didn’t have the warmth of the previous evening's conversation. Derek waved the letter he had received, reminding everyone of the party's next steps. They were to meet at the fountain, where they’d be briefed further.

At the fountain, a series of familiar faces greeted them. Seteta, the imposing cat-girl with a certain... confidence, was first to approach. She knew Gleb. It seemed everyone knew Ghodrat. The Goliath was known at the Guild, and his presence was enough to make even the most hardened adventurer take a step back.

Then there was Carastaro and Ahyano—two figures with an unmistakable aura. They were flanked by a silver fox, a creature so exquisite it seemed almost out of place in the rough-and-tumble world they inhabited. Ghir, ever the observer, pointed them out. "You can't go incognito with this crowd," he remarked, his eyes scanning the party. "Everyone knows everyone."

And then, it happened. A letter from the daughter of Big Sol arrived, further complicating their situation. Steteta handed out 50 silver pieces to each of them, a token of trust or perhaps thanks?

While travelling to Franks Tavern, they were thrust into the fray once more. A brawl broke out near Frank's establishment, a trap set by a group of vagabonds who thought they could take the party unawares. The fight was over almost before it began. Derek was quick on his feet, knocking two of them out cold. The others met grisly ends—eviscerated, evaporated, and in some cases, bifurcated.

Once the dust settled, Ghodrat stops everything. Moving, talking... he's still breathing though? It seems he is elsewhere. Further followed Ghodrat into his mind while the group looted the area, gathering what little treasure the vagabonds had left behind, before heading to Frank's for a well-deserved drink.

The Hollow was changing, and it seemed that their place within it was still to be determined. But one thing was clear: the beginning of something great was just around the corner.