Note sull'episodio
The plan is simple enough: slip out of the ferns, take a bandit camp before it wakes, and be gone with the loot before anyone reaches for a blade. It does not stay simple for long.
A gnome's thorned vine drags one bandit after another into his own campfire, and finishes the last of them with a crackling, closed fist. A dwarf ends the whole business with four flat words, and nobody argues. A bard talks a frightened, surrendering man into a second chance instead of a shallow grave — and walks away with a witness, a name, and a small black box that hums, low and steady, like it is thinking. And a half-orc in borrowed priest's robes keeps his own quiet accounting of the night: a fine mantle spotted on a warden's back, and a purse or two lighter by morning. What they carry back toward Naath is meant to clear their names. Somebody else already has plans for it.
Told fireside, to two children who cared far more whether the man screamed than how a doomed cavalry made its last, glorious charge, this is the fifth disaster of Nex Nexus.