The heroic party slowly crestes the hill to look upon a valley of what apperas to be a barren wasteland littered with floating balls and mishapen sacks. Upon closer inspection the floating sacks are the decomposing remains of what use to be every child's worst nightmare, Beholders. The stench seems to grow thicker and more tangible the further into the grave yard our heroes walk.
A noise up ahead alerts our heroes that they are possibly not alone.
There it is again, a sound that resembles a chain dragging the ground from over the next hill top. Our adventurers advance with weapons and faith drawn to support them in this errie land.
Before they get even half way up the hill, the silhouette of a hunched back humanoid figure wearing tattered robes crests the hill with a hand pointed in the parties direction, and the last remnants of the setting sun fading behind it.
The archer knocks his bow, and takes aim. The champion warrior tightens his grip upon his mighty battle axe. The cleric grasps her holy symbol, and begins a prayer. And, the servant of the arcane prepares a special treat for just the occation, if things go sour.
The dark figure screams something in an unintelligable language, and flings both arms, with a long chain hanging to the ground attached to its right arm, out to his sides. As the heroes flinch at the sudden movement by the unknown creature, and take a look at their surroundings they notice the floating masses starting to move.
The beholders are starting to move...