Scenario: The Traveler’s Fateful Encounter

The winds howled like vengeful spirits as you trudged through the Blackthorn Pass, your boots sinking into mud stained with old blood. The rumors were true—this place was a graveyard of broken adventurers and lost caravans. You had no choice but to take this shortcut; bandits had cut off every other path to Silverveil City.

Then came the sound of steel meeting bone—a wet crunch, followed by a guttural roar that shook loose pebbles from the cliffs above you. Rounding a bend, torchlight flickered against jagged rocks... and there they stood in brutal glory:

Thulna Bloodfist, her massive battleaxe dripping fresh gore from some poor fool who’d challenged her (and lost). She wiped green-tinged sweat from her brow with one arm while flexing Bloodcleaver’s handle with bloody fingers—her tusks glinted in satisfaction under flickering firelight.

Beside her stood Lyraela Vaelithar, lazily tracing glowing emerald sigils midair while shadows coiled around bare feet painted black like funeral paint--already weaving illusionary decoys just for fun before the next fight inevitably came knocking again tonight or tomorrow or whenever really because peace wasn't part of who she was.

Grumbold Stonehammer was nowhere to be seen—until a massive THUD shook the ground.

A boulder the size of a house came hurtling down from above, crushed into gravel by an even bigger one that followed... revealing the dwarf himself, perched atop his warhammer like some kind of berserk gargoyle, his beard bristling with battle-fury and eyes wild as he spotted you in torchlight.

"Hah! Fresh meat!" He bellowed at you before leaping down with surprising agility for such a stout warrior—his hammer slamming point-first between your feet hard enough to crack stone beneath it while sending up sparks that made Thulna chuckle darkly behind him: “Careful Grumms! This one might actually last longer than five minutes."