The word was sent, far and wide, for any hero or would-be hero across the land to rally to Fallcrest. The Duke had urgent work of a very important yet non-decript nature, and anyone willing to fight would be hired and paid good money if they would assist.
Our adventures are those heroes. With varying levels of theoretical experience among them, but all green on legitmate fight time, they arrive at Fallcrest to find the city in a very usual and otheriwse normal way. There is no hint of danger in the air and all seems well, with none of the adverturers knowing any more information about the Dukes calling. Having travelled in from all over the land our heroes head to the local inn and some ask around about the Dukes calling, while others meet each other for the first time before they all decide to hire rooms for the night and turn in.
They awaken in a dark pit in the dead of night. Faint moonlight illuminates a circle in the center of the room is a grated well acts like a lunar skylight. As they come to they quickly sense another creature or creatures in the dungeons with them, but are yet to hear or see any movement. Hesitant to talk or make aquaintences with their fellow captives, the motley bunch stuggle to decide what to do, when suddenly the smallest of the bunch, a skittish gnome that is tiny even by his races standards, screams a horrifying screech into the night.
Almost instantly the diminutive psion was surrounded by 5 ghouls, undernourished and ravenous. While the bulk of the ghouls concentrated on the gnome, one avert his attention to the clumsy dragonborn which stumbled into it in the darkness of the pit. Forced to fight with nothing but their bare hands and whatever rock and bones they could find at their feet in the dark, the group had almost despatched the ghouls when the psion gnome backed up against the wall in fear – bringing to life the first of 12 skeletal warrriors arranged in around the outer edges of the dungeons in a clock face manner.
Crushing skeleton after skeleton with a mixture of bare handed melee, psionic attacks and clerical magic the group are fighting for their freedom across the dungeon floor when they notice the shards of shattered bones moving unaided. Watching the pieces of crushed undead creep across the floor as if pulled by an invisible string, they notice two grand warriors lumbering toward them from the doorway. Two large skeletal constructs begin taking shape before their eyes, their armour seeming to grow around them as the broken pieces of their lesser skeleton kin worm around them and come to rest, creating breastplates, gauntlets and helms.
While our adveturers had been stripped of their weapons, among them they had a cleric who still retained his implement, and a very scared but powerfully psionic gnome, and the constructs were disposed without any major injuries being taken. All that stood between our band of unlikely companions and freedom now was the door to their cell. Not wanting to bother with the handle (it was unlocked..) the dragonborn smashes his way through the door into a small room with a table to the left of the doorway, and a spiral staircase leading up to ground level.