When ‘The Reviled’ sprang into being seemingly all at once they were commonly laughed off as an impossible and, if indeed possible, ill-fated collective. With little warning hundred disparate clans and species of demi-humans banded together to form a unified army. Under the leadership of an entirely unknown benefactor The Reviled began a march of conquest. The reason the group, comprised of so many evil creatures working in concert, was thought laughable was because of the natural tendencies which the creatures harbor toward violent dissension. The notion of ogres working so closely with goblins and orcs was previously unthinkable. And yet in the span of mere days The Reviled became infamous for their ruthless and frighteningly potent military might.

Nations have fallen. Small villages have been completely razed. While The Reviled’s numbers haven’t visibly increased they continue their march and have toppled every army pitted against them. Their benefactor has supplied its troops with masterwork equipment and previously unknown magic. The fact that the leader of The Reviled has enabled the largely feeble-minded monsters to perform magic has been particularly troubling. The dread army is presently travelling south along the Hogarth Coast toward one of the largest cities on the continent. Full-frontal assault has been a less than effective countermeasure so an international conference has been held to decide the next course of action in finally ending the carnage caused by The Reviled.

In the failed skirmishes against The Reviled it has been evident that the underlying reason for the evil army’s success is their mysterious leader. He or she has never been seen. Rumors tell of a time-displaced warlock, though rumors also insist that the True Devil itself has outfitted and endorsed the march. As the figurehead is so vital to the mismatched army’s cohesion the international summit opted to send a small team of elites into the heart of The Reviled and eliminate its leader. The hope being that with the leader’s death the army of notoriously unreasonable demi-humans would tear itself asunder.

Presently the appointed team approaches the massive, slinking army. It is a dramatically overcast afternoon. A waft of Sulphur and iron hangs about The Reviled, pungent even at this great distance. Anton the fighter leads the group. He had been the only member of the team to volunteer for the fight and has spearheaded their efforts with good-natured aplomb. Behind him, dressed in unsightly and ill-fitting robes in the wizard Ur. The taciturn magic-wielder was forced into his assignment by the captains overseeing his arrest. Despite his difficult attitude and boorish qualities he is a tremendously gifted spell caster. The renowned druid Llewelyn and his wolf companion Svenn are next. Being a druid Llewelyn was not particularly eager to join a decisive battle. Llewelyn’s druidic order elected him to the task force and while he accepted his ambivalent attitude toward the pursuit has been noted. As with the others he is a luminary in his chosen class and is prepared to fight The Reviled for the wellness of the natural world if for nothing else. Bringing up the rear is an assassin known only as ‘Slim’ who was bought into team. The rogue is cool and detached, but deceptively kind-hearted and helpful. He has been a valuable second to Anton in lieu of Llewelyn and Ur who regard the endeavor with cold-professionalism and dismissiveness respectively. The lurching army is visible in the distance through a clearing of trees.

“I suppose I should make you aware that we are being watched.” Ur says off-handedly. The group freezes.

“We’re what?! By whom?” Anton urges. Ur responds with a smug scowl.

“I don’t know. It’s a spell effect.” Ur answers.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Anton asks shoving Ur’s shoulder.

“I was hoping I was mistaken.” Ur says “Who would be spying on us but the army? And if it is the army, how? How are those mindless beasts able to use such complex magic?”

The team is hushed as their collective concerns are spoken aloud.

“Fair enough.” Anton says.

“You realize that they will undoubtedly prepare traps for us.” Llewelyn says.

“If we aren’t in one already.” Slim says. The mood is instantly tensed.

“I suppose I’ll cast a Detect—“ Llewelyn begins. With a loud crash three ogres explode through the trees into the clearing where the team is gathered. One ogre wears heavy armor and carries a Warhammer. The others, evidently spell casters, wear no armor, but carry staves. Anton is the first to react. He draws his long sword from its sheath and bears down on the rapidly approaching armored ogre. Llewelyn commands Svenn to attack the mages as Ur prepares a lightning bolt spell. Anton reaches his opponent and makes a horizontal slash. Showing unnatural adroitness the ogre backpedals to dodge the attack. It grunts loudly and continues to evade as Anton expertly swings his blade.

The fighter is surprised by the ogre’s skills. This species is normally of the strong-but-unskilled cast, but this monster with his fearsome armor is able to match a seasoned adventurer. In his distraction Anton unfortunately makes a poor slash and misses his target by a large margin. The ogre takes advantage of this by jutting a knee into Anton’s chest. Unsurprisingly this ogre is uncommonly strong as well. The wind is stolen from Anton’s lungs as he doubles over. The Ogre laughs as he readies his Warhammer and brings it heavily down onto Anton’s helmet. The metal loudly smashes and the fighter is swiftly knocked unconscious.

“Gods, Anton!” Llewelyn calls. Svenn is having a difficult time of attacking the mage he has cornered. It launches red rays at the nimble wolf. Llewelyn prepares to summon a swarm of attacking vermin. As he does so Svenn finally makes a misstep and is hit by one of the magic beams. With a sharp cry he is launched nearly to Llewelyn’s feet. The druid, fearing for his truest companion, cancels his spell and tends to the canine.

“Svenn, easy. Let me cure you.” Llewelyn says. The wolf relaxes in his arms. Llewelyn, temporarily forgetting his surrounding is startled by the booming steps of an ogre directly behind him. He manages to cure Svenn, but upon wheeling around he is swiftly hit by the beast’s hammer. He is able to crawl a few feet toward his wolf companion before succumbing to unconsciousness.

“Hey! I can’t do all of this my damn self!” Ur shouts to his fallen teammates. “Some experts you turned out to be.” Ur has struck and killed one of the mages. His crackling bolt pierced the ogre’s neck and left him terribly burned and dying. The mage keeps the remaining ogres in his line of sight while readying his Magic Missiles. He whispers the incantation while forming the necessary finger-signs. As Ur does so the mage ogre reaches a pudgy hand into his vest. When ready Ur launches five oversized magical arrows at the monster. The wizard is astonished when his attack fizzles into nothingness five feet from its intended target.

“A failure? No…” Ur scans his opponent. The ogre is fingering a bizarre amulet of black metal with inlaid violet gems. “What is that!?” Ur quickly prepares another Magic Missile spell. The armed ogre pauses to watch the events unfold. Ur shoots his missiles and again they are completely ineffective. The ogre has somehow procured a magic-negating amulet. Before Ur can prepare his next spell the ogre lifts its staff and mumbles a throaty curse. The ground around Ur seems to dissolve. The wizard sinks slowly as in quicksand before being raised up altogether. The ogre gestures his arms into the air as Ur is likewise raised. He is trapped in a shimmering globular force field. His body tingles with numbness and when he tries to summon a utility spell it fails to take effect.

The fighter ogre has hoisted Anton and Llewelyn’s bodies onto his shoulders. While levitating Ur in the air over his head the mage ogre lifts Svenn into a burly arm. Ur can only watch this transpire as he contemplates their incredibly rapid defeat. He should have quit the mission as soon as he learned that they were being watched. He would be prosecuted as a deserter, but at least he wouldn’t be killed by evil beasts. This is an enemy beyond even Ur’s exceptional talents. ‘Who gave them these artifacts? They should not have equipment or skills of this level. Much less in magic.’ he ponders. ‘And hey, where in Hell did that thief go?!’ Ur scans the ground as much as he is able. Out of the corner of his eye he spots a darting shadow amongst the trees. Ur’s view is lost as he is soon dragged along with the incapacitated warriors toward the war encampment.

Finally free of attackers Slim, ever the rogue, emerges from the shadows with which he had made himself a part.

“Gods, they’re so strong…” Slim thinks aloud. He watches in genuine concern as his partners are carried away by the beastly humanoids. While the enemy certainly knows of his presence they don’t seem to be able to track him when he is attempting true stealth. Slim steels his resolve. “I-I have to fix this.” The rogue vanishes into the forest.