As a group we are noted for our staunch individualistic approach to adventuring. Deep in the recesses of our bowels we know we need each other but our ability or desire to work together is often suppressed in favor of a desire for individual glory. I must admit, My own insecurities have led me to exhibit the form of behavior myself from time to time, ok almost always. Recognizing the need for battlefield control, I have sacrificed some direct damage for area effect control.
There we were, entering the burial chamber. It was quiet, it was ominous and there went the ranger marching up to the coffin and opening it. To no ones surprised the room was quickly filled with ghostly figures intent on recruiting us to join their immortal ranks. Before I could even assess the threat, our party was surrounded and I had been reduced to a fraction of my health. There was blood oozing from my every orifice and I was gripped by the fear of my own mortality. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide (a very unsettling position for me to be in); the enemy was all around us. I am happy to report that after his foolhardy assault on the coffin, the ranger demonstrated that knickers exposed, by an elevated skirt, is not an activity restricted to the warlock.
Ghost wrangling was the order of the day. The sorcerer drew the ghosts together and I rained destruction en-mass. Poised at the boundary of the sorcerer’s ghostly prison, the battlemine, bard, and warden restricted their escape. It was the first time we actually worked together as a well oiled machine leading to our enemy’s rapid demise.
But the journey continues to remove this cursed scar.