Griffon's Fall

The Order of the Griffon sent Duncan to the Wilderlands to help the dwarves in their battle against the Brass Horde. He lead a group of adventurers who were skilled at infiltrating and taking out dangerous targets. The dwarves had identified the target. He was called Tarsus, one of the Mad Minotaur's lieutenants. Intelligence gathered by the dwarven scouts put Tarsus in the south eastern portion of the Wilderlands meeting with a new ally to join the horde.
The dwarves felt that the time to strike was now, and that Duncan's crew would be the best to do it. Something nagged at Duncan. Tarsus was known as a warrior of infamous cruelty and savagery. Why would the Horde send such a warrior to act as diplomat? The dwarves and the commander of the Order waved his concerns away. The Mad Minotaur was just that... mad. His whims couldn't be reasoned. He had made a mistake by sending Tarsus to deal with this, and now the forces of Order could strike.
Duncan led his crew to the meeting place, a crumbling ruin of an ancient Tyrian outpost. Sure enough, a small party of Brass Elves and Anubine were there. In the midst of them was Tarsus, a massive minotaur with a strange brass helm and gauntlets that made him look some kind of metallic statue.
The timing was perfect, as Duncan's ranged attackers let loose with crossbow bolts and arrows. The Brass Elves were caught flat footed and taken down quickly. The Anubine were another matter. They moved swiftly engaging with Duncan's skirmishers. Fearless, the human warrior plunged toward the towering Minotaur, who let out a roar and engaged with his trident of bronze.
The battle was fierce, but Ducan held his own. Then it started to rain fire. Duncan could hear the cries of his comrades as magic hurtled down from above. He spared a glance and saw more Brass Elves surrounding them in the ruins. They were targeting his people bringing them down with flames, or distracting them enough for the Anubine to finish the job.
Duncan decided at that moment to not let his people die in vain. He would kill Tarsus even if he died as well. The lieutenant must have seen the look on his face, because he smiled under his brass helm and seemed to gain a burst of additional speed and strength. Duncan was unable to stop all the strikes and soon was bleeding profusely. Tarsus struck him with a mighty blow of his cloven hoof and sent Duncan crashing to the ground.
Around him, he saw the dead and dying companions. Some burned alive in the magical fires. Others were being hacked to pieces by the zealous Anubine. Tarsus loomed before him, and Duncan waited for the creature to finish him. But it spoke instead, "Pathetic human. I let you live for one reason. You tell your Order they are finished. You tell your Duke his severed head will decorate the gates of City of Brass and his wife will be the willing concubine of my master. You tell all you see that we come, and we are will not stop till humans are slaves or dead."
Duncan was defiant, refusing to do any such thing. He told the creature to kill him and get it over with. Tarsus just smiled, "No, the shame you feel is much worse than any torture I could unleash. I will take these bodies," He gestured to the fallen, "I will impale them on the hill. You will be able to see them as food for the vultures. But you, you are special. You will suffer until you die. But it won't be my hand." He looked at his followers, "Or at the hands of anyone here."
"Yes Tarsus," the horde replied.
For good measure Tarsus broke both of Duncan's feet and rumbled, "Crawl way human. Crawl away in shame."
A dwarven scout named Lasnia Stoneaxe found Duncan and got him back to Exur. Duncan was delirious with pain and mumbled many strange things. In his hand was a small brass orb covered in ancient writing. He has no memory of what it is.

Duncan has a brass orb covered in ancient writing in his inventory.