Title Card: "Tarnskeep, Thaumont 11, 1000 AC"
FADE IN:
EXT. TARNSKEEP COURTYARD – MORNING
Background Music: Chant of the Paladin (Remastered)
The gray dawn settles over the courtyard, the air crisp but heavy with the scent of blood and battle. Before the keep, four Devil Swine carcasses lie in a grim display—including the Gambler, his bloated form now still, tusks dulled by death.
CUT TO:
The Patriarch, standing tall, observing the remains with a measured gaze.
The leader of the Calarii elves, arms crossed, nodding firmly.
CALARII LEADER: "They’re all dead, Lord Sherlaine. Every one we could find. Luckily we found no piglets this time."
A flicker of relief passes across the Patriarch’s face, though it does not last. They both extend hands, gripping briefly in mutual respect. The Calarii turn, moving with practiced precision, heading back toward the Dymrak, their work here done—for now.
CUT TO:
Clarion and Aleena, stepping forward with the clerics of Chardastes, their movements purposeful, deliberate. Their hands rise, symbols glowing faintly with divine energy, hovering over the lycanthrope corpses.
CUT TO:
Ritual murmurs, sacred words curling into the air.
The dead remain still, but the energy crackles—power pressing into flesh and bone, sealing the fate of the fallen.
A final pulse of divine light, ensuring none shall rise as undead.
CUT TO:
Fleetwood, Greegan, Felonious, and Silverleaf watch from the edge of the courtyard, exhaustion lingering in their posture.
FLEETWOOD: "At least we know they’re dead for good."
GREEGAN: (Mutters) "Unless Chardastes missed a spot."
The sun rises higher, casting long shadows over the remains as the Duke’s men begin to load the bodies on a cart for burial.
FADE OUT
FADE IN:
EXT. FOGOR ISLE – DOCKS – MORNING
Background Music shifts: Small City | D&D/TTRPG Music | 1 Hour
Panoramic shot of the docks on the Volaga River, focusing in on a set of warehouses on the pier. The streets of Fogor Isle stir with the restless energy of the unwanted—the desperate, the ruthless, and those who thrive in the cracks between law and chaos. But Marla and her gang stand at the center of it all, holding sway over the docks like an unshaken force.
CUT TO:
The party moves through the alleyways, sharp-eyed, cautious.
Felonious flips through his spellbook absently, already calculating what magic might come in handy against a mage of Bargle’s caliber.
Fleetwood cracks his knuckles, ready for another fight—because there will be one.
Greegan narrows his eyes, gaze sweeping over the docks, spotting Marla’s presence like a stain across the morning light.
GREEGAN: "There she is. I’d know those curves anywhere. Now let’s see if she’ll give up Bargle."
Silverleaf tilts her head, studying the shifting figures that slink around Marla’s crew.
SILVERLEAF: "She won’t give him up. Not without bloodshed."
FLEETWOOD: "That’s fine with me!"
The harbor air is thick with tension, with smoke curling between the warehouses and docked ships. Greegan moves from the shadows into the light, his posture loose but his eyes sharp, surveying Marla and her assembled crew.
GREEGAN: “No need to keep hunting, Marla. I’m here. And I brought friends."
CUT TO:
Marla, standing at the heart of her gang, usual confidence eclipsed by something sharper, darker. Her usual flirtation is gone—no teasing smirk, no playful edge. Instead—seething anger.
MARLA: "You lot made a bad mistake coming here, Greegan Makov! You have annoyed the Iron Ring for the last time."
Her voice is low, lethal, carrying a weight that shifts the energy in the air.
CUT TO:
Fleetwood cracking his knuckles, ready.
Felonious falling into a spellcasting stance, a flicker of magic sparking at his fingertips.
Silverleaf’s gaze hardening, assessing the terrain.
Clarion adjusting her grip on her mace, preparing for the inevitable fight. And looking as if she would very much enjoy kicking every square inch of Marla’s ass.
Greegan grins wickedly, a taunt forming on his lips.
GREEGAN: "Aww, Marla. What’s the matter? Missing your little fat piggy? Well, that’s a shame."
MARLA: (angrily) “Don’t you ever shut up?” (Turns to her crew) “Don’t worry about sellin’ ‘em to Bargle, boys. Just bring me their heads. Doesn’t matter what shape the rest of ‘em is in.”
Background music shifts: Pirate Attack! | D&D/TTRPG Battle/Combat/Fight Music | 1 Hour
The clash is relentless, the tide of battle shifting in furious waves as blades flash and bodies lurch toward the water’s edge. Fleetwood leads expertly, barking orders, positioning his allies with precision—his blade sending buccaneer after buccaneer into the river’s unforgiving depths. But Marla does not falter.
CUT TO:
Marla standing tall, eyes burning with fury, ordering her men back into the fray.
The river pirates obey, attacking again, more desperate than coordinated.
Clarion and Silverleaf holding firm, fending off attacks without suffering a single loss.
EXT. DOCKS – CONTINUOUS
The battle rages on, neither side landing a definitive blow—though the tide is turning against the pirates. Then—Fleetwood moves, shifting toward higher ground—only for the gangplank beneath him to shift dangerously.
CUT TO:
His boots slip, balance faltering.
For a terrible second, he teeters—too close to the edge.
The water below churns, waiting.
Greegan lunging forward instinctively, muscles tensed to grab him—if he falls.
Fleetwood grits his teeth, twisting his weight just right—and recovers.
CUT TO:
Fleetwood stabilizing, regaining his footing, exhaling sharply.
Greegan shaking his head, muttering under his breath.
Felonious smirking slightly, magic still humming at his fingertips.
Fleetwood continues to fight forward, locking onto Marla as he realizes she is about to do something underhanded. The air hums with tension as Marla raises her crossbow, jaw set, eyes locked onto her targets. Then—she fires.
CUT TO:
Fleetwood’s shield absorbing a bolt, the wooden frame vibrating with impact.
Clarion’s shield deflecting another, the bolt spinning harmlessly into the planks.
Felonious’ Mage Armor shimmering, neutralizing the third projectile before it can land.
Then—Greegan moves.
CUT TO:
Silverleaf standing just in Marla’s line of fire, unaware of the incoming bolt.
Greegan lunging, pushing her aside just in time—but not unscathed.
The bolt grazes his arm, a sharp sting of pain.
Silverleaf takes a shallow cut as well, her hand instinctively pressing to the wound.
Greegan, ignoring the pain, eyes flashing, makes a rude gesture toward the pirates.
Fleetwood: "That’s enough of that!"
The party regroups, weapons ready, the battle far from over.
The battle reaches its final crescendo—blades clash, spells flare, and the last of Marla’s pirates fall, bodies hitting the planks or tumbling into the water with sharp, echoing splashes.
CUT TO:
Fleetwood drives back the last fighter, sending them reeling off the edge into the river.
Greegan twirls a dagger, preparing to throw, leveling his gaze at Marla.
Felonious adjusts his sleeves, calm but utterly done with this nonsense.
Marla steps back, but refuses to run. Her people are dead, she is cornered, and yet—she defiantly raises her rapier, her jaw tightens, her expression carved of stone.
MARLA: "If you think I’m surrendering, Hawk Fleetwood—you don’t know me at all."
GREEGAN: (dead calm) "No flirty comebacks? You can do better than that. You don’t have any cards left, Marla. And Bargle isn’t here to save you. We’d hate to put a scar on that perky bum, but if that’s the price of doing business…"
Marla smirks, but there’s a flicker of something shaken in her expression. Yet—she does not yield. The party stares her down, weapons ready. The sun casts long shadows over the docks. Something is about to give.
The party lunges forward, blades flashing, spells crackling—Marla has nowhere left to run.
But she doesn’t need to. With a sudden, fluid leap, she twists over their heads, clearing them with an elegance that even Greegan finds impressive—though he would never admit it. Before anyone can react—she lands, pivots, and grabs a random passerby, her rapier at his throat.
CUT TO:
Fleetwood halting immediately, muscles coiled, eyes flashing.
Clarion gripping her weapon tighter, gaze sharp.
Felonious frowning, utterly unamused.
Silverleaf adjusting her stance, bow half-raised but not yet drawn.
Greegan narrowing his eyes, jaw tightening.
Marla smirks, breathing lightly but confidently.
MARLA: "You lot… you may think you’ve won—but I’m the one holding the rapier."
The hostage, who looks like an unseemly globetrotter type, tilts his head, entirely unbothered by the cold steel against his neck.
CUT TO:
No fear.
No pleading.
Just detached apathy, as if this is merely a minor inconvenience.
The reaction is strange enough to give Marla pause—just barely. Fleetwood tilts his head, eyes narrowing.
GREEGAN: “Marla, you really ought to let that poor sod go. He’s just not entering into the spirit of this."
The tension tightens—Marla still holds the hostage, rapier poised, though her grip isn’t quite as firm as before.
CUT TO:
Her fingers twitch on the hilt of her rapier, a flicker of hesitation.
Her expression shifts, less rigid, considering.
The hostage continues to look utterly unbothered, which somehow helps.
Marla’s gaze flicks between them, her breath measured. A beat. Then—she lowers the blade. But her eyes remain sharp, flicking to Greegan with an edge of warning.
MARLA: “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
GREEGAN: (barely holding back a laugh) "Oh, love, I know I am."
HOSTAGE: (Imperious) "Enough, Marla. Stop. Come with me."
Felonious’ eyes widen in immediate recognition, his breath catching.
FELONIOUS: (sharp) "Son of a—"
Before he can finish the thought, the illusion drops, the globetrotter’s disinterested expression twisting into something more familiar—and far more dangerous.
BARGLE.
Background music shifts again: The Feeling Of Bargleness
A heartbeat—then fire erupts.
CUT TO:
Fleetwood raising his shield, the arcane blast hammering against its surface.
Clarion recoiling as flames lick across her sleeve, singeing her.
Felonious reacting instantly, flicking a counter-spell into place, neutralizing the magic before it can sear his skin.
Greegan twisting into motion, barely touching the ground as he dodges the inferno entirely.
Silverleaf batting at her shirt, stamping out the embers with quick precision.
The fire dies, crackling remnants curling into the air— And when they look up, Bargle and Marla are gone. Fleetwood grits his teeth, eyes scanning the docks, seeing nothing but empty space where they stood just moments ago. Greegan exhales sharply, irritation flickering across his expression.
GREEGAN: "Well. That was rude. In the middle of my big victory speech, too."
The song continues playing over the end credits
FADE TO BLACK.