An excerpt from Darby, Soul Hunter

Archmagus Darby got off the train in Goblin Town, eager to find some Forgotten Souls to shoot. He sure loved his job.

Goblin Town was bigger than he’d expected. It took a hardy folk, tough as runed granite, to civilize this rugged a land - but they’d still be scared to death if they knew what manner of evil was breathing down their necks.

Then Darby noticed the signs. Weary eyes from staying up all night keeping watch. Nervous glances sent in the direction of every stranger. No children running about. And an unusual number of cheap wooden coffins stacked in front of the undertaker’s. Yes, sir, Goblin Town had itself an undead problem.

“Goblin Town sure is pretty!” an excited Owl named Hache exclaimed as he waddled down the train’s steps.

“You say so, Hache.” He'd become fond of his companion because he always managed to find glitter in every cesspool.

“I do.” Hache took a deep breath, ruffling his feathers pleasantly. “Ah, smell that, um, almost fresh air.”

It smelled like blend of Kobold armpit and a Celtic sludge mine to him.

“Cheer up, boss. This is another grand adventure,” Hache chirped.

“I’ll be cheery once we put this band of Wizard eating bastards in the ground. This could be the toughest lot yet.. the stench of Goblin Town alone probably attracts a lot of undead.

“...and we get paid,” Hache reminded Darby.

“..AND we git done paid.”

Darby swung his runed rifle over his broad shoulders. Crafted by none other than the great Kobold weaponsmith Rumpleskin himself, it looked more like a portable copper colored cannon to average sized folk.

Darby bounded into the slimiest saloon in town.

"It's time to pre-game, Hache."

Darby pulled out his enchanted Mug of Bottomless Ale and chuckled.

Entered by: 0x7f8D…5090 and preserved on chain (see transaction)