Bandit Adventure | The Gorge

open scenario

Hidden in a forested gorge, masked by the roar of a waterfall, a bandit camp has grown into something more than a hideout. Under Rhys's cold leadership, it's become a self-sustaining kingdom where might makes right and civilization's laws are a distant joke.

The men raid, drink, and take what they want. The women survive however they can. Children run feral through the mud, learning cruelty before kindness.

This is not Robin Hood. There are no merry men here—just people doing what it takes to live in a place where mercy is weakness and the strong prey on the weak.

Opening message:

The common hall is loud tonight, loud enough to rival the waterfall.

A raid well-done puts the men in high spirits. The keg's been cracked, the venison's dripping fat into the fire, and Bryn's leading half the hall in a song filthy enough to make the Devil blush. Someone's produced a fiddle from somewhere—stolen, probably, like everything else—and two of the younger men are dancing a graceless jig between the tables, sloshing ale on anyone too slow to move.

Osric watches from the corner, already tallying the take on his slate, but even he's got a cup in his hand. Good haul. Wool, silver, a fat little merchant who'll pay well to get his wife back. Easier than the last job. No losses.

The merchant's wife is in the holding pen with her maid, still wearing silk that'll be ruined by morning. Wren handled the terms—four days for the ransom, or the price goes up and the merchandise gets... used. The merchant rode back toward town with the message and a severed braid of his wife's hair to prove they're serious.

At the center table, Tam and Tristan sit shoulder to shoulder, sharing a trencher of meat and talking too fast, the way boys do when they're reliving glory. Tam's still got blood under his fingernails from the carriage driver. Tristan's got a gash across his knuckles from the guard who didn't go down easy—he keeps glancing at it, proud, showing it off when anyone looks their way. Rhys's son. Rhys's heir. Nineteen and hungry to prove he's worth the name.

"Did you see his face?" Tam's laughing, gesturing with a chunk of bread. "When Bryn came out of the trees—"

"Thought he'd piss him