The sound of battle echoed throughout the Seven-Pillared Hall and billowing smoke rose from the market to the south, obscuring the cavern ceiling above. Brugg had caught sight of the giant bronze minotaur just in time to evade its charge, but several of his motley company were caught unaware and now lay strewn about the street. It had erupted from a side alley, and two mages rained fire from behind its protective barrier.
Brugg shouted for supporting fire and rushed at the ancient guardian crushing its arm with his greataxe. Behind him, a large dragonborn belched flame, filling the alley with his dragon’s breath, his eyes glowing with bloodthirst as he drew the stained and hideous greatsword he carried and charged at the towering statue.
The Bronze Warder stepped forward, swinging its massive axe in a wide arc and beginning to spin, sweeping through the guards as it spun forward in a relentless assault. The blade crushed Brugg’s chestplate, throwing him back several feet. Miraculously, the berserk dragonborn dodged past the circling blade to drive his own into the construct’s side as the greatsword erupted in a demonic howl, toppling the bronze minotaur from the force of the blast.
Brugg winced at the pain in his ribs as he took a moment to catch his breath. He couldn’t stop now. He was a force of order in this town. He kept the peace. And by Erathis, he wasn’t about to let an insane wizard ruin it. Lifting his fallen greataxe, he bellowed an ancient Minotaur curse as he charged the fallen construct, “Fus-moo-dah!”