Book II: Days of Despair

The Famine in the East has forced many from the kingdoms of Thanemhein, Adenlance, and the Eastern lands. Some traveled over the Eriadran Mountains, but a greater threat lies waiting, and a terrible force is moving throughout the world.

The Forgotten Crypt: Part I
It began during the pilgrimage from the east, where famine has stricken the eastern lands of Thanemhein, Adenlance, and the Forte territories of the south, and with the weakness of these lands the orcs of the Baren Fells have gained a foothold as they raid the dying countrysides. These orcs, lead by their fierce warlord Baarthog, have left many homeless and widowed by their pillaging, and the kings of Adenlance and Thanemhein have been unable to outflank him. Therefore, many people - left in desperation from these events - have began emigrating from the east. Many folk believed that the kingdom of Herendain in the west would be free of these miseries, and perhaps hold a better life than what was to be promised them if they stayed; that is death and sorrow.

On such a pilgrimage, many different peoples joined a caravan traveling over the Eriadran mountains. Of the people among these refugees were many warriors: Romulous the Hunter, Malkum the Protector, Draven, a trader, Wraquel the Destroyer, and many others. Along their journey over the mountains, an earthquake shook the entire caravan off the mountain trail, and into a large landslide, separating many across the mountainside and destroying most of the supplies the caravan had.

From the falling in the landslide, the survivors stumbled into a trance, letting their minds extend and receive visions of doom. Each seeing some dark end. In each vision, one image connected each of them; a hand held out, holding a pendant, and the pendant decorated with a Scepter and a snake coiled around it.

Once awoken, some of those among the pilgrims found themselves deep inside a ravine, where the landslide had thrown them. With many injured and most supplies ruined, it seemed very unlikely that they would be able to complete the journey. The ravine’s walls were shear, high, and slanted inwards towards the peak, where daylight above crept through. There were also many caverns leading deeper into the mountain from the ravine, and a set of tracks already leading inside. In need of someone to find an exit from the mountains, a group quickly formed to explore and search for a way out. Among them was Malkum, Draven, Wraquel, and Romulous, along with Kolvin Smelderbraun, a dwarf who joined them to map out the caverns below, and Richtor von Steele, a satyr who seemed to know Draven.

As they delved into the caverns, both Draven and Richtor seemed to know their ways through the caverns with a sort of other-worldly knowledge. These caves, which they fell into by incident, seemed familiar to them, as if they had been there before. Much to the amazement other members of the group, especially Kolvin who exclaimed his difficulty mapping out the cavern as they traversed so quickly, the two lead the party deep within the caves and with great time.

That was until Draven came to a crossroads he didn’t recognize, nor did Richtor remember them either. The cavern tunnels ahead seemed strange, unknown and unrecognized. They found their tunnels connecting to a what appeared to be a mineshaft, most likely crafted by the dwarves, but it appeared to be abandoned for ages. Further in, the group encountered an ancient-looking dwarf, who recognized both Draven and Richtor, and claimed to the group that he had foreseen their coming, and was lead to enter these caverns and await them to arrive. (Draven and Romulous also discovered a deep pit, where wailing sounds came from below, and led them to try another route). Just beyond where they met the dwarf, who seemed to be a prophet of some sorts, the caverns changed from mined-out tunnels to an even more ancient temple, far deep within the mountains.

This underground temple, crafted by some race far more ancient than modern dwarves, held a strange air to itself. Scattered around the temple’s rooms were urns and chests filled with coins, each amounting to either 20 or 30 pieces each. Also among these urns were traces of oils and fragrances, suggesting that the temple was made for burial purposes.

Deeper in, they find themselves between two hallways, both long, deep, and dark. Deciding to go left, they travel down for a long way, until some began to sense danger nearby. Romulous was already alerted when Kolvin stopped the group as they walked, “What was that?” They all halted and listened, and again they heard the wailing sounds they had heard before, but this time from behind and it seemed it came from many more.

Cautious of the danger behind them, they all made haste further down the hallway, entering a large room filled with coffins, urns, and chests. Before Draven and Wraqull made it too far inside, however, a trap was triggered, and all the coffins opened to have the corpses inside animate and attack the party. As they engaged the skeletons inside the room, from behind in the hallway a mob of zombies came after them, wailing loudly as they moved to flank the party. Soon they were surrounded by a horde of undead.

Before long, the party could also hear more wailing inside the tomb, coming from a pit in the back corner, and more zombies emerging from below. Draven was flanked by several skeletons, and severely wounded before having to withdraw, leaving Romulous to aid him. Soon, only Wraqull held the zombies at the door, as both Kolvin and Richtor were quickly incapacitated. Malkum and Aeronir charged several skeletons inside the tomb, trying to reach a balcony where several archers were sniping the party down, but they were still vastly outnumbered.

It was then that from a small tunnel high in the wall over the balcony, holding a crossbow in one hand and a rope in the other, came swinging a darkly-clad warrior who quickly dispatched one skeleton and striking the other. But as the fight went on this newcomer was grappled by one skeleton and shoved off the edge of the balcony, and into the pit where many zombies below were still wailing.

Then Aeronir began unleashing his magic’s full strength, and Malkum and Romulous began defeating those that remained. Wraqull was able to finish those at the doorway, and soon the tomb was cleared of all undead, and no sounds of wailing could be heard.

As they explored the tomb, they found various amounts of 20 and 30 pieces of silver among the once- buried. Yet in one coffin, one that had not yet been opened, they found the corpse of an elf, holding in one hand a pendant, decorate with a snake coiled around a scepter.

But while they were still rummaging throughout, An arrow whizzed through the air, and struck Richtor in the heart. As they quickly retraced the arrow’s path, they looked towards the pit in the back of the room, only to see the darkly-clad warrior standing there, bow in hand. Lowering his bow and hood, the warrior spoke, “I mean you no harm, but your friend would have turned on you if I had not stopped him.” He directed them to examine the satyr’s finger, which had turned a pale-white. “You should not linger here, there will be more creatures to fend off yet. Come, I will lead you to sanctuary.”

The Forgotten Crypt: Part II
Further into the dungeon, lead by the archer Maythem, the part was gathered in a sanctuary. There, they were met by other stranded refugees who had also fallen into the caverns during the landslide. Among them was a sage woman, an eldered cleric with his head and eye bandaged, and a bard. Maythem had lead these people to this haven inside the caverns, a place he called "Sanctuary". In this haven there was a small pool with fish and fresh drinking water from a spring, and roots growing in the walls that could be eaten. There was also a ringed circled, drawn with runes of warding. These runes were shaped like constellations, suggesting that Maythem (who had made the ring) was a disciple of Orius. They decided to go deeper, hoping to find a legendary dwarven highway built hundreds of years ago beneath the mountains. The party journeyed onwards past what Maythem had explored during the five years he had spent in the caverns (Maythem had not seen day or starlight in all this time). Deep below them, they found the great road, a long bridge-like path in the middle of a vast, open cavern where the light did not even reach the edges of.

Along their journey on the dwarven road, there was only silence in the dark. The air stirred, but only because of the vastness of the cavern. But not a whisper was made, only the footsteps and murmurs of the party members themselves. No, not even the wailing of the undead or of spirits as they had heard before.

Further along the road the air grew ever more still, as walls came closer in and the road came to an end. The path of the dwarven road stopped, and intersected with another path. Kolvin urged the party onwards, claiming his own visions were returning, and that the way out was down this way. They followed him (although some were reluctant) and came to a great doorway. The doors stood more than 20 ft. tall, made of slated stone and great iron bindings. There was a intricate locking mechanism, holding these great doors shut. In the middle of the lock was a concave of the talisman found in the crypt, the one with the Serpent and the Scepter.

Kolvin urged everyone that they should go through those doors, that beyond them would lead them out. However, many of the party stilled felt reluctant to go, and an argument broke out over each member's motives. It was only by the guidance of Aeronir that the party decided to unlock the doors embark through.

Inside, they found a tomb. Large, ancient, and dark slated stone walls, with decorative archways holding the ceiling upwards. In the center was a pedestal, where a sarcophagus rested, sealed shut with a staff resting on top. To either side were openings two small side rooms, rowed with coffins. Behind the sarcophagus stood a pair of stone guard statues, and above them resting in the wall was a large pale-green gem, glowing in the dim light of the room. Scattered around the room were urns and chests, filled with varying amounts of 20 and 30 pieces of silver.

As the party began investigating the tomb, the doors shut. The talisman that was resting in the lock fell out and onto the floor, directly at Kolvin's feet. Kolvin reached down and picked the talisman up, and then without a warning made a mad dash for the sarcophagus. He snatched the staff in his free hand, dodging past Aeronir in the chase. With the talisman in one hand and the staff in the other, Kolvin turned around, and a deep laughter emanated from him. He spoke in a voice that was not as own, a voice as old and terrible as misery itself. "I should thank you for finding finding this talisman, and for restoring me to my power."

And then, some small whimper came from the dwarf's throat. "no". With a wicked SNAP! his neck twisted 'round, and then his body fell to the floor. A cold chill suddenly fell upon the room, and the air began stirring round, forming into a vicious cyclone. The staff rose high in the air and the sarcophagus opened. Green lightning from the gem shot out and began charging into the staff. The bones on the ground began to be picked up and shatter in the wind, creating a dust. And that dust began collecting in the center of the cyclone, and forming into a figure.

And the wind howled until the figure's form was complete. The lich stood before them, his staff now in his gnarled hands. The Son of Fengorath spoke, "Rise my minions, harvest more souls for your master!" The corpses buried in the side rooms began to stir, and the two stone guardians awoken and they all turned against the party, and the battle ensued.

Only when defeat came too close for the lich did he turn and flee, transforming into a shadowy spectre and flying out of the room and into a back passageway. Before anyone could stop him from escaping, he was already gone.

The City of Ulderic: Part I
And so it was, that Ulderic, The Slaver of Souls, One of the Five Curses and the son of Fengorath himself, was awoken. Already his dark schemes were being set into motion, and the wheels of Fate began turning. Ulderic would return to his home in the North, to the city of his birthplace, where the Fellwind was buried. The Fellwind, greatest and most notorious of the Five, and brother to Ulderic, none could withstand its wrath. If the Fellwind was revived then the entire world would be at the mercy of death’s oncoming onslaught. But if they could make enough haste, then perhaps these schemes could be thwarted….

Leading them out from the tombs on through the Eriadran Mountains, Aeronir the Prophet brought the survivors of the earthquake down to the forests lying there below the hills, and invited them into his home. Aeronir spoke gravely of the events that had unfolded, predicting that if Ulderic was arisen, then the Five Curses may be soon restored, and the overland of the mortals will be overwhelmed by the powers of death. A dark sorcerer, Eidros, had come into the forest before Aeronir was sent into the caves by his visions, and nearly incinerated half of the woods there. Eidros has been known to serve Fengorath and the Five, and he had fled into the hills after Aeronir encountered him.

The others were well ready to retaliate against Ulderic, though none so much as the mighty Wraqull thirsted for revenge. In the morning, they would ride out to Redfall, there Aeronir knew of a sorcerer who understood better than most the histories of Ulderic and all the Five. But during the night Maythen had departed, stating he had to seek out those of his order, and ensure they were still about.

At dawn they rode out, and met with the sorcerer Finrel in his home. Finrel’s abode was littered with curiosities of relics from the draconic faith, those who served the Dragon God, especially dragonborn people. He also owned three pseudodragons, that he had kept for pets. This was welcomed to Malkum and Wraqull, who were dragonborn themselves. Finrel had traveled to the great southern expanse, the desert land far away, which was home to many dragonborn and dragon worshipers.

When Aeronir stepped forward to ask of the awakening of Ulderic, Finrel admitted that he had noticed Fengorath’s servants were on the move. And he was surprised that it was these adventurers who had awoken Ulderic, and not one of his own. Eidros had been spotted heading towards the Eriadran Mountains, probably searching for the tomb himself. He believed that there were those who were trying to awaken all Five curses of Fengorath (The Salver of Souls, the Fellwind, the Lion of Ixiole, the Demon King, and the Deceiver) back into the mortal realm, so that they may again lay conquest to it. And if Ulderic had awoken, he would be returning North to the city of his birth, and where the Fellwind, his brother, was buried.

It was also rumored that the King of Demons was already roaming in the Barren Fells, claiming a throne for himself among the orcs, and there was Baarthog, the orc warlord, who traveled with Kur, the warlock who worshipped the Lion of Ixiole.

And Kur had stolen something from Finrel, a key that could unlock the Fellwind’s soul and restore it. Kur had gone northward with a band of orcs, riding out beyond the borders of Men. But Baarthog had been seen wandering back south into Thanemhien, supposedly alone. If Baarthog was returning to the Thane’s land he would most likely be rallying the orcs scattered throughout there to him, forming an army for himself to lead on as the Five were restored.

Kur had to be stopped, for if that key was brought to Ulderic, then the Fellwind would undoubtedly be restored, and the greatest and most terrible of the Five curses would return to the mortal realm. Finrel suggested that if these adventurers were to continue north, they would ride out to Northwatch, a keep held by Heradain men, who kept eyes over the valley on the borders between Heradain and the North. He would send them out on horses, and he gave them gifts to help them on their journey. To Malum he gave a stronger battleaxe, decorated with Draconic runes and markings. To Draven, he gave bloodshrooms, which were a plant used to make an exotic tea. And to Wraqull, he gave a sack of enchanted dirt, dug up from the frozen northern earth. Finrel said that by sprinkling this dirt about, it would cover all tracks behind them.

They rode out at once to Northwatch, and there were met by Captain Théidro and his men. The captain welcomed them, and prepared them for their journey northward. He gave them four teams of sled dogs to carry them and their provisions north, and wished them well on their journey. (There was also Sir Errod, a veteran of Heradain and was decorated with a pendant with a silver griffen, and a scout named Landon).

As they journeyed north, they were met by a fierce snowstorm. Even with Draven’s keen senses and Wraqull’s memory of his home lands, they found themselves lost in this storm. Snow blew so thick and so strongly that they could hardly see far beyond themselves. They wandered aimlessly for sometime, and Wraqull became irate. As he kicked and cursed in the snow, he stormed this ways and that, all the while the wind howled around him. And then he stopped, dead in his tracks, for standing before him, frozen in layers of thick ice, was a corpse. Then slowly the wind began to calm down, and everyone saw the figure that stood before Wraqull, as well as over a hundred more standing all alone the hillside there, positioned like an army at a post. Aeronir knew this as the legendary frozen legion that Ulderic once created out of his slaves, to make a perimeter around his city and await for him to awaken them. But not a single one of these frozen soldiers seemed to move, they were completely still, all standing along the clearing as far as the eye could see, lifeless.

But there was something else that did move. Circling far out and quickly closing in were several orcs, on the backs of large boars. They came in quickly, charging the adventurers. The battle ensued, and while trying to fight the orcs in the snow, they quickly slaughtered their mounts, and then the riders after them. However, during the battle, Sheba the wolf was slain. As one orc died, Malum learned from it that Kur had already reached the city, and soon the Fellwind would be restored. With no time to mourn, they stole into the city, sneaking past guards of Drow into the courtroom, where the ritual to revive the Fellwhind was already underway.

In the courtroom Ulderic sat on a throne of twisted bones and ice. On the floor were old, large, white obstructions that were covered in dust and snow, seemingly scatter about the chamber. A large glowing pale-green stone stood behind Ulderic’s throne, similar to the one that had been in his tomb, only much larger. A handful of Drow cultists were placed throughout the room chanting in their abyssal tongues, Kur stood beside Ulderic overseeing it. Kur motioned to some guards, and three orcs came from a large door, pulling behind them a young blue dragon by chains pierced into its flesh. Malkum and Wraqull both swore curses against the dragon’s captives, swearing vengeance for their kin as a larger orc emerged, holding a heavy greataxe in both hands and bearing down on the young dragon.

The orcs holding the chains pulled the young dragon out, so that its neck was extended and the soft underside was exposed. Ulderic spoke, “One soul for another. The blood of the youth to revive the old.” One quick glance over the throne room and suddenly it was apparent, the large white obstructions were bones, bones to an incredibly large, ancient and monstrous dragon. Then the  orc lifted the greataxe high above his head, ready to drop it on the dragon’s throat.

There was only a moment before the axe fell, in that moment Aeronir casted a cloud of dark madness down upon the orc, and Draven casted  spiked vines down onto the guards their as well, but the orc’s blade had already made its mark. Blood poured from the beast’s throat, flooding down into the chamber, soaking the orcs to their knees, and flowing down to drench the great bones of the ancient dragon. Wraqull threw himself into the chamber’s floor, fury overwhelming him as he sought to avenge the young dragon, the others prepared themselves for battle.

But at that moment all the lanterns of firelight and torches went out. Only the light of the great stone, charged with the spirits of hundreds, illuminated the room. Then suddenly, a great beam of ghastly angry erupted from the stone and began shocking the great bones of the ancient dragon. The entire chamber and city began to shake. As the light from the stone died down, two blue glowing orbs began to expand where the creature’s eyes should have been.

The Fellwind had been restored.

The City of Ulderic: Part II
The Fellwind was awoken, and the five heroes - Draven, Aeronir, Malkum, Wraqull, and Romulous - all charged into the middle of the ritual, fighting against the servants of Fengorath. But when Ulderic first saw Draven Malemir, he laughed and mocked the intruders, “You dare fight me with one of my own making?” And then Ulderic reached out his hand, and evoked from within Draven an evil that was buried deep beneath himself, an evil that was so buried that he did not know how terrible the hatred, the wrath, and the hunger that was inside.

The Dark Ranger was transformed into a monstrosity, a beast of Ulderic’s corruption, and he quickly turned against his fellows in a savage frenzy, thirsty for blood. It was then that the Fellwind broke through the ceiling of the throne room, and bursted out into the Northland sky, carrying the Slaver of Souls on his back.

The others could not pursue the two sons of Fengorath, for their ally was turned against them. As the creature that Malemir had become attacked his comrades, he tackled them one by one to the ground and tried to feed from them. Before long they were all wounded but their friend’s savagery. But they had no time to restore Malemir after they had defeated him in his corrupted form, for the servants of evil were still at large. Khur, the warlock of the Lion emerged then from the shadows, and began to cast down spellfire on the heroes. Romulous and Wraqull quickly wounded the orc, breaking him until he squandered away from the two warriors.

Khur slugged out of the throne room and out into a courtyard, crawling up stairs opposite of the way he came. Crawling on his belly, he was covered in the dirt, ice, and his own blood that seeped from his wounds. Wraqull had followed him out there, while Romulous went back to aid the wounded (Draven was still unconscious and in his monstrous form, while Aeronir and Malkum were both injured). Wraqull began bearing down on the crawling orc when Khur turned onto his back to face the dragonborn. He raised a weary arm between himself and his assailant, his head whipped back to the top of the stairs and he wailed out for help, calling on one name to rescue him: “BAARTHOG!”

Footsteps like thunder echoed as a tall and mighty figure stepped out from the shadows at the top of the stairs. Clad in blackened iron armor, and wielding a great sword of black steel, stood the orc warlord Khur had named. Baarthog, now decorated in the arms of the Lion, stood at the top of the stairs looking down on Wraqull. (Now Baarthog was believed to be roaming in the Eastlands, where the sorcerer Finrel reported him wandering about to rally the orcs scattered there to him. It was for this reason that Hroctor, the Ganadite, was not with the heroes when they ventured North). Having heard the orc’s cry and the pounding footsteps, the others came rushing out to see the warlord standing there, and then moving quickly, bearing down on Wraqull. Baarthog quickly bested Wraqull’s strength, sweeping his legs from beneath him and flinging him onto his back, then taking his sword and smiting down onto him. His sword was the legendary blade known as Ixiole’s Bane, which had claimed a thousand lives in the Land of the Dead and tenfold in the mortal realms. He then moved to Aeronir, and swung too wildly and missed. Romulous chased down Khur and placed one arrow through the orc’s heart, and the orc dissolved into burning embers and ash until nothing remained. By then Wraqull made it back to his feet, and attack the orc warlord, but Baarthog was unfazed by his strike. Baarthog again squandered

Wraqull to fall before him, and his sword began to drink from the dragonborn’s life-force, stealing away the years the warrior had to live. Next the orc brought his wrath onto Romulous, and dropped him with one blow. Another orc had appeared and flanked Malkum, and bested the other dragonborn until he too was defeated.

Soon it was only Aeronir and Wraqull who remained standing, and although they fought valiantly against the Lion’s champion, their allies had already fallen, and Baarthog’s fury was only growing stronger. Baarthog would have claimed their lives that day, if he hadn’t been stopped by an enemy of the Lion more ancient than himself.

It was Romulous, lying unconscious in his own blood, who had first witnessed it. He felt the great presence of Feradíl, the first elven king. From a great light, bursting into the room, came a warrior, sent from elsewhere to rescue the heroes and smite the champion of the Lion from the mortal realm. This warrior, who bore resemblance of elfkind but also the divines themselves, aided the heroes to fend off the Lion of Ixiole’s champion, and heal the wounded who were drawing close to death. Birthg moved to retreat, fear in his eyes, but the warrior chased him down and called on his masters to banish this evil warlord.

Around the warrior appeared five astral beings, who seemed elven in form, and who Romulous recognized as the Five sons of Feradíl, who first defeated the Lion of Ixiole, as well as all the other curse of Fengorath. The spirits of the ancient elven princes raised their swords, and circled around the orc warlord, and thrusted them into the floor, creating a ring around Baarthog. The floor began to give in, crumbling beneath him, and before he could leap away he fell into the pit, dropping his sword as he and the blade fell into the depths far far below. Baarthog, champion of the Lion of Ixiole, was defeated.

The warrior then greeted the heroes, restoring their health and bringing Draven back to his mortal form (but he was not able to revive him just yet). He introduced himself as Calidor, a servant of the sons of Feradíl, and said that he was sent to aid them. From there, he urged the heroes to follow him, quickly leading them to escape the Drow city through tunnels deep beneath it’s foundries.

As they traveled they passed a hidden chamber, filled with alchemist supplies and scrolls and books filled with notes in the Drow writing. In the corner of the room grew an old and withering plant of Darkthorne, and Aeronir suspected that this was a laboratory of some sorts, where the Drow must have once experimented on the accursed plant. By searching through his notes, Aeronir was able to find both recipes for a repellent of Darkthorne, and a remedy for the Pale-Fingered Plague.

Although in awe of the findings, Calidor urged the heroes onward, leading them further away from the city. They came to the end of the tunnel, where they were faced with a wall of solid ice. Calidor turned around then and spoke, “This is where we part, your can continue your way from here. Farewell, perhaps we shall meet again, noble heroes.” And he walked back down the tunnel the way they came.

The heroes were baffled by the warrior’s actions, and why he left them at a dead end. But Aeronir spotted something deep within the ice, and Draven quickly noticed it as well. Far inside the ice was a spectral glow, a white figure shimmering in the frozen wall. The figure was shaped like an Elk, who looked towards the heroes in the tunnels and turned its head to gesture them to follow. Aeronir took the first step, walking into the wall of ice, but surprisingly finding the illusion to fool himself as he stepped into an opening in the wall, large enough to walk through. He walked in and found a tunnel made in the ice, that he and the entire party behind him could pass through. They walked through this tunnel until the Elk started leading the up and out into the surface. As they reached the exit, they saw standing on top of the passageway the white elk, and another spirit shaped like a wolf. Both spirits looked down on the heroes below, then turned and were whisked away into the snowy wind. The heroes stepped out from the passageway and onto the surface of the frozen Northlands, they had escaped the City of Ulderic.

The Ruins of Northwatch
The Ruins of Northwatch:

The Lion’s champion had been defeated, but the Fellwind and the Slaver of Souls were both restored to their former power. When the heroes Aeronir, Draven, Malkum, Wraqull, and Romulous emerged from below, they found themselves safely out of the City of Ulderic. But the Frozen Legion, the undead army once stationed around the perimeter of the city, had vanished. Wraqull and the others perceived that the Frozen Legion had been awoken by the Fellwind and by Ulderic, and now they would join the army of the Drow and march southward to conquer the other kingdoms of Arinoth. It was presumed that this army would make for Northwatch first, the stronghold kept by the men of Heradain, keeping watch over the Pass of Taeros to keep any army from passing through. So the heroes set to journey out there to the keep with all haste.

As they journeyed south and saw the Whitewind Hills in the distance, and came closer to the Pass of Taeros, they pressed on quickly, but by then it was all too late. In the valley below the ground had been trampled on as several thousand soldiers had marched through, and above in the hills where the stronghold of Northwatch should have been standing were ruins. The once mighty fortress had been toppled into crushed stone, and half-frozen over. As they moved to search the stronghold for survivors, they found corpses standing still frozen over, but they were not like the corpses found in the Frozen Legion. These corpses were still covered in flesh, though the life of fire had been stolen from their flesh. They remained as husks buried beneath a coat of ice, skin shriveled and eyes hallowed in pale grayish remains. These were the men of Northwatch, standing still defending their keep before the devilry of the Fellwind and the Slaver claimed their lives. The prisoners who were brought to work there were also found slain.

Even Captain Théidro, the commander of the Men of Northwatch, was found among the dead. He was standing with his men, pointing out and urging them to defend the keep until he was struck, forever stilled by the Fellwind’s power. The entire keep was silent, and all who were discovered were already dead.

But as they wandered through the ruins of the keep, they discovered a cloaked figure, lurking in the shadows. Landon, the young scout boy they had met at the gates when they first came to Northwatch, had been watching them since they entered the ruins. “I didn’t realize it was you,” He explained, “I thought you were the Drow coming to slaughter any survivors. I was sent to loot the keep, find provisions so that the rest of us could journey back.”

When Landon further explained his position he told the heroes, “Captain Théidro, died early in the fight, he went out to lead the men, their hearts were too full of fear when they saw the dragon. After that it was chaos, and I fled from the lines and into the keep. It was a cowardly thing to do. Sir Errod found me, he had freed some of the prisoners before the Drow could reach them, and he urged us all deeper inside. He knows another way out from the Pass, through the Whitewind hills and into Thane country. We can’t continue down through the Pass behind the Drow, they could have an ambush waiting further down that road. Errod believes that their army will be marching to invade Heradain, for it has stood strong against the North for many years. He wants us to take the road to Thanemhein and plead for the lords of the Thanes there to aid in outflanking the Drow.”

Landon lead the heroes down deeper into the keep, in the deep dungeons where they had been sealed away from the Fellwind’s onslaught. Errod was there, along with other men, both soldiers and prisoners. Errod said the other road through the hills would not be an easy journey, that the mountains would be treacherous with the Fellwind’s storm lying over these lands. But when they set out for the most part the men of Heradain and the prisoners made well enough between each other to travel over the hills. Only the prisoner called Jüren, a strong and stubborn man and a Thane himself, gave trouble, but Errod quickly subdued him into following his commands.

Their journey lasted nine days, but they made it out safely and quickly found themselves in Thanemhein. Some had already forgotten how desolate that land was, how the famine had destroyed much of the land already. Errod dismissed the heroes and the prisoners, saying they were free to go, but he commanded his men to remain with him. “We shall march to the nearest city, speak with the lord there and ask for his aid in defending Heradain. Those who were imprisoned at Northwatch, you are free to go, I cannot hold your loyalty, but you shall be welcomed to march with us if you do come. As for the heroes that have returned from Ulderic’s city, you may go as you please, though I’ll be as grateful if you would follow me as well.”

However, some of the men looked to each other, worried in their leader’s judgement. “What hope does he have in the Thanes? This land is starved, the people here will be weak and their rulers will be reluctant to spare any aid. This is folly!” Though not a single man of Heradain abandoned the company. Most of all the prisoners left, all those who were Thanes went quickly from the company and to their homes in Thanemhein, all save for Jüren who decided to join Errod in pleading for to the lords of the Thanes.

The Ragged Lady
Out from the strife of the Northlands, beyond the reach of Ulderic, the Fellwind, and their newly awoken army of drow and undead, the men of Northwatch, lead by Sir Errod, arrive at the northern borders of Thanemhein. With them were the heroes who ventured to the City of Ulderic, the elf Romulous, the dwarf Aeronir, the dragonborn warriors Malkum and Wraqull, and the hunter Draven.

From their, many parted their ways. War was coming, a great conflict that would cover the entire land of Arinoth. Aeronir, eager to prove his god’s power, quickly rode off to a place called “The Finger”, a place where many who were infected with Pale-Finger plague would go to die. Draven slipped off quietly, off to seek answers of his past, and discover how he could control the evil that was found within him in Ulderic’s city. As for the rest, Sir Errod requested that if any would follow him, he would be traveling across Thanemhein seeking aid of the Thane lords and negotiating an alliance between the Thanes and Heradain. Romulous, Malkum, and Wraqull all agreed to follow Errod on this errand.

On the journey to the nearest city, the place called Redcrest which laid north of the Eriadran near Redfall, they heard news that Redfall had been raised to the ground. Sir Errod sent out scouts to investigate, wanting to know if this had been done by Ulderic’s forces. He sent with his scouts Romulous the elf, so that he could bring back a report to him in Redcrest of how many there were. So Romulous rode off with the scouts to rejoin Errod and his men later.

When they arrived at Redcrest itself they found there the townsfolk in great despair. News of the siege on Redfall had already reached this city, and a multitude of refugees from Redfall had already taken shelter within the walls of Redcrest. Malkum and Wraqull went to speak with the refugees, while Sir Errod went to arrange a meeting with Lord Brenwulf, master of Redcrest. Among the refugees the two dragonborn found the one who lead the people of Redfall away from the assault, a half-elf bard named L’Orxian, who they had met once in the caverns of the Eriadran Mountains. L’Orxian had tried to save as many people from the attack as possible, and lead them to Redcrest to seek shelter. However, the people of Redcrest had not been very receiving of their neighbors. Fear had gripped them with the rumors of Ulderic’s forces, and there were rumors of a spirit haunting the people of the town.

L’Orxian had already been investigating in this matter, and learned that this town’s folklore was centered around the legend of a reappearing spirit, the Lady in Rags. L’Orxian told them that it was said that the Lady in Rags appeared to people of this town in their dreams, often weeks before they themselves die. Captivated by their beauty, the dreamers are drawn in to her, but are then struck with horrors. Some say they have seen the lady drowning in water, other that she burns in fire. And it was discovered that just before the siege on Redfall began, that many people in the town had been having these very dreams at night. Some mention that she is very beautiful, although she seems deathly and terrible, and carries the resemblance of an elf maiden.

Wanting to learn more, as well as gaining more supplies to help care for the refugees, L’Orxian voiced how he’d been seeking the audience of Lord Brenwulf for some time, but had not gained access. When Malkum and Wraqull informed the bard that they had come with Sir Errod, and that Errod was at that moment making arrangements to meet with the Lord, L’Orxian became eager to attempt to gain his own council with Brenwulf.

The three went to the gates of Brenwulf’s house, outside were all the men of Northwatch who were waiting for Errod to rejoin them. Wraqull marched up to the house guards posted outside, demanding he be let in, “We must speak to Lord Brenwulf at once!”

The captain of the guard refused to let any past, “Sir Errod is already making arrangements to meet with Brenwulf, I have been ordered to make sure all his companions stay outside and wait until Errod returns.”

But Wraqull would not have it. He spouted curses at the captain, until L’Orxian stepped forward, “Please, good sir, I am the one who brought the refugees from Redfall, these are friends of mine who have informed me that their are terrible things coming this way. If Brenwulf is not warned then how will the people of this city fend for theselves?”

The captain replied, “I did not ask for the refugees to be brought here, nor do I recall that Brenwulf welcomed them. The lord is already troubled.”

“But we may have learned something of the Lady in Rags!” L’Orxian stated, “If Brenwulf would hear us, we may be able to understand why she haunts this place!”

The captain looked at L’Orxian sternly, “I know about the Lady in Rags, and I know that you would try to use that legend to try and fool me. I have been stationed outside of his quarters many nights, and have heard him awaken screaming. I’ve thought he’d been attacked, but he is always alone when I find him. The lord’s health is already weakened by terrors, and the sages and priests of the area have tried to help the lord, but none have been successful. No one can help him now. You will not be welcomed in to worsen his troubles.”

Wraqull again grew restless, and pushed his way into the captain. The rest of the guard drew their swords as L’Orxian backed away from the brawl. The first blows would have been thrown if one of Errod’s company hadn’t stopped Wraqull. Juren, a Thane who was a prisoner in Northwatch and then freed by Errod, placed himself between the white dragonborn and the house guards, and reigned in the dragonborn, “This is not how we settle business in Thanemhein! You insult our hosts!” Calming the dragonborn down, Juren reasoned with the savage northlander, “We will wait until Errod returns, then find out if and when the lord will meet with us.”

But as the brawl had broken out, L’Orxian had slipped away and snuck around to the servant’s entrance of Brenwulf’s home. Disguising himself as a kitchen made (complete with melons stuffed in his bosom), he made his way through the kitchens, quickly and slyly snatching up a meal and began to walk it up from the kitchens to the living quarters. From the kitchen he went up a set of steps, and was stopped by two house guards at the top of the stairs, “Halt!”

In a raspy disguised voice of a seasoned maiden, L’Orxian began to weave his deception on the guards, “I bring the Lord Brenwulf’s meal for him.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“I’ll take that then,” the one guard said, and snatched the plate from the disguised kitchen maid. <span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">The other remained at his post, “As you were,” he dismissed the disguised L’Orxian.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">But L’Orxian wouldn’t settled so easily. Taking out one of his small metal constructs, he activating a small device that crawled from the top of the stairs behind the guard’s feet, and off down another hall. With one simple “click” the device switched functions, and began ringing loudly. This noise distracted the guard, who went marching down the corridor after the source of the sound, and L’Orxian snuck around him and followed after the first guard, who went further through the house to one of the living quarters.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">He found the guard down one hallway, where he had brought the food to a room. As the guard brought the food inside, L’Orxian snuck to the doorway and looked inside. The food wasn’t brought to Brenwulf, but an older man dressed in robes and a medallion hung from around his neck, probably the food taster to ensure the Lord’s food hadn’t been poisoned.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">But in the first few mouthfuls that the old man took, he began choking. The house guard responded quickly, just in time to save the elder’s life. With a firm strike to the man’s back the morsel of food that had been caught in his throat flew from his mouth on onto the table, a ball of slobber and meat that rolled across the plate and onto the floor.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“Thank you,” the elder said gratefully to the guard. “Who’s that?” He said as he looked up from his food and to the doorway where he saw someone peering in.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">The guard stepped from around the table and towards the door. L’Orxian back away and then heard voices and footsteps coming from around the other corner of the hallway. There were no windows or other escape routes except the balcony inside the old man’s room. Thinking quickly, L’Orxian ducked away as the guard came around the door way, a mellon in hand. Smashing the fruit into the guards head, he knocked the man out of his way with enough force to jump around him and into the doorway, just as an armored man, two more house guards, and another robed man had rounded the corner to see the disguised L’Orxian rush inside the room.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“Stop him!” L’Orxian could hear from the hallway as he ran through the room and towards the balcony. He looked back and saw the two other guards round the doorway, but he’d soon reach the exit. Yet as he turned around he saw a wooden beam quickly being swung at his head, with only just enough time to duck below the beam’s strike. But as the bard ducked, he felt his feet give as he slipped on something; the morsel of food the man had choked on!

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">Falling onto his back he saw the old man who wielded the wooden board that had almost dented his skull in standing over him. He felt the two guards march up next to him and hoist him onto his feet, and turn him around to face the armored man and the one in robes.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;"> <span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“Who are you?!” The armored man stomped to L’Orxian and drew his knife, placing it on the bard’s neck. <span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">The man in robes placed a hand on the armored man’s shoulder, “Errod please, you would not spill blood in the house of Brenwulf?”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“Nor would I allow a burglar to break in and threaten the lord’s life either. Speak now, thief! or I’ll slice your neck like a turkey!”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“Please!” L’Orxian replied, realizing who this armored man was, “I am L’Orxian, I am a friend of Wraqull and Malkum! I was only trying to gain the council of the lord so that I could warn him of what we’ve learned!”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">By the mention of the two dragonborn Errod lowered his knife, but he wielded his fury evermore, “You break into the lord’s house to warn him that his life is in danger? What fool does this?”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“You could have simply sent us a message,” the other robed man spoke.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“These things are too dire, I had to speak with Brenwulf in person.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">The other robed man and nodded, “Very well, I will inform Brenwulf that you seek audience with him, perhaps you will be able to speak to him after Sir Errod pleads his cause. For now, I will send the two dragonborn up here with you, and you will wait here with master Calisdor until after the evening meal. Sir Errod, I will escort you back to the barracks where you can meet again with the rest of your men.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">So the three heroes, L’Orxian, Malkum, and Wraqull were left in the room of master Calisdor, the old man who had choked on L’Orxian’s food, Juren the Thane was also brought up, to ensure the dragonborn would not misbehave. From Calisdor, they learned that the old man had served Brenwulf’s family since before he was born, and that he has always known that Brenwulf suffered from night terrors. Brenwulf constantly had nightmares, it was believed that he was haunted by the Lady in Rags often, but he was said to have another dream.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“In the second dream, he explains there are two riders, one he sees, the other he only hears riding in. The one he does see is a man with raven-black hair, before him goes fire and ash, and behind ice and bone,” Calisdor explained. “He has been haunted by the Lady in Rags since he was a boy, but only in a fortnight has this second dream been coming to him.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">Later that night, when they were in the audience of Brenwulf, they finally saw the seclusive lord. He appeared tired, constantly turmoiled by a dread and sleepless nights. But despite his grief he also seemed young, quite young to be the lord of the Redcrest. Also in the room there was a young girl, who appeared elven, and she was accompanied by a large man who stood in armor near to her, a bodyguard. L’Orxian had heard of this girl, the young Lady Eselea, who was a ward of Brenwulf and under his protection. Eselea was said to have come only a few years ago to Redcrest.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">After Errod pleaded his case to Brenwulf, his advisor then announced, “The Lord Brenwulf will now hear from L’Orxian and his dragonborn… friends.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">They then spoke with the Lord Brenwulf, gaining his confidence until he was willing to open up to them. He dismissed the rest in his courtroom, even Sir Errod and the Lady Eselea, so that only his advisor and the three heroes remained.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“Ever have I been haunted by the dreams of the Lady in Rags, and it has been said that all who see her in their slumbers are close to death, but I have had this dream since I was a boy, and have yet to taste death’s sting. I am constantly haunted by this! And now another dream has haunted me, a herald of doom, the rider in grey robes. If there is a way that you can make sense of these visions to me, then I shall hear it, but many have tried and failed.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“M’lord,” L’Orxian spoke, “I have heard for many years the legends of the Lady in Rags that come from your great city. And when I came here I wished to learn more about the tale, but when I learned that this vision was capturing these people with terror, I knew there was more to it. In these recent days the Five Curses of Fengorath have begun to be re-awoken, and we are now surrounded by the dark magics of his servants. I believe that this Ragged Lady is such a servant, and perhaps one who will harm this city more before and drow’s blade spills Thane blood. If there is anything you know to help us stop this, I plead you allow us to know.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">Brenwulf spoke, “There is one place, a cave I see whenever I have the dream. The Ragged Lady awaits for me there inside, she is fair and I am drawn to her, but then she becomes fiendish and terrifying, and I am struck with fear at her presence.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“I know that this cave is real, for I have stumbled upon it before. First when I was a boy playing in the forest, and many times since I have found it again and again. Though I have never sought it intentionally, in fact I’ve meant to avoid it for the strife it gives me. But I am always drawn to it, just as she draws me in through the dream. I could lead you there if you’d like, but I cannot enter it.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“My lord,” the advisor spoke, “your health would not allow you to journey like this.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">“If this means an end to my strife, the so be it, I will show them the way. Tomorrow I will take you there, and perhaps all of this will be over.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">And they arranged to meet at dawn and enter the cave. But before they left L’Orxian asked the lord, “Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, how is it one of your age has come to be a lord of a city at such a young age? What has happened to your parents?”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">The advisor almost began to rebuke the half-elf, but Brenwulf raised a hand and dismissed him. The tired lord spoke, “When I was a boy my father was slain by a raiding party of orcs. As for my mother, the Ragged Lady visited her before I was born.”

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">At dawn they left the city and found the cave deep within the forest. When they found it, Brenwulf became restless, and was lead back with his advisor to the city, for dread had overcome him once more. The three heroes remained, and entered the cave. Inside they went deep beneath the earth, until they found a small room at the end of a tunnel. There on the far wall was a statue of a beautiful elf maiden, and on her lap was a bowl filled with water.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">Investigating the statue, Wraqull looked into the pool and saw his reflection, and on the other side he saw the reflection of the statue. But as he looked in the water in the bowl began to ripple from the statue’s side, and the reflection became distorted. But as he looked in he could see in the reflection something moving out from the statue’s side of the the reflection and towards his own.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">Wraqull looked up, but the statue had not moved. L’Orxian was alerted by Wraqull’s quick reaction, and drew his bow back and held it towards the statue. As he aimed his arrow he felt a cold finger touch the back of his neck. Wraqull then turned back to face his companions Malkum and L’Orxian, and then he saw the figure beside the half-elf, the spectral image of an elven lady dressed in ragged clothes.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">The Ragged Lady quickly lashed out at them, trying to crush them with terror and dread. Her terrible touch chilled L’Orxian and Malkum to the core, her horrible scream even struck Wraqull to his knees. But L’Orxian did not abandon hope, and rallied his allies to courage. They thwarted the spirit, and broke the statue it was bound to. But when the battle ended, the spirit lashed out one last time to L’Orxian, and captured his mind to hers. <span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">And when L’Orxian again began to think, he found himself in a forest on a summer’s day. Before him stood an elven maiden, who he recognized from the statue’s likeness to her. She spoke to him then in elvish, and introduced herself as Daeryn, an ancient name that belonged to an elven lady long ago before the Ruin. Daeryn explained that she had been murdered thousands of years ago, by a man named Tougal, L’Orxian had heard of the legend, but had forgotten the names of the lady and her murderer.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">Daeryn warned that she felt Tougal’s presence returning to this land once more, and that he would bring more strife than he had before. She also warned him that he would be known a a rider, dressed in grey robes with raven black hair.

<span style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:Helvetica,Arial,'lucidagrande',tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif;line-height:15.4559993743896px;">She then released L’Orxian from the trance, and he found himself once again in the cavern with his friends and the statue.

The Siege of Redcrest Parts I & II
With the cursed of the Ragged Lady lifted, the people of Redcrest relieved with a new peace. But it was short lived indeed, for the Armies of the North were still at large, and rumors were heard of an undead horde marching towards the city.

In that time Lord Brenwulf, master of Redcrest, ordered that the Heradainean refugees from the city of Redfall be put to work, and aid in preparing for the oncoming war. All the refugees were to be sent to the surrounding farmlands, and to transport food and supplies into the storehouses inside the city walls.

Two such Refugees were two wood elves, Nyxar and Natio, who had come from the Stonewood realm to Redfall on searching for the elf Romulous, Nyxar’s cousin. Unbeknownst to either of them Romulous had been traveling with a band of adventurers, seeking to thwart the Ulderic’s restoration and the revival of the Fell Wind. Since returning from the City of Ulderic, Romulous had traveled with the Men of Northwatch into the Thanemheim countryside, and had agreed to track the movements of the Northern armies for Sir Errod, who lead the men from Northwatch. Romulous took with him some of the scouts from Northwatch, including Landon the scout.

Before leaving to track the forces of Ulderic, Romulous had journeyed from the Slaver of Souls' home land with two dragon born warriors; Wraqull the White Wrath of the Northlands, and Malkum the Fierce of Adenlance. Both Wraqull and Malkum joined Sir Errod as he journeyed to Redcrest, and there they were reunited with L’Orxian the bard and the hero who had rescued many people from Redfall during the siege and had brought them to Brenwulf’s city. After joining L’Orxian in dealing with the Ragged Lady, both Wraqull and Malkum agreed it would be best to seek help from the refugees that L’Orxian lead to see if there were any who’d join them in their quest to defeat Ulderic and the Five Curses of Fengorath.

As they searched among the refugees outside of the walls of Redcrest, they encountered the two woodelves Nyxar and Natio, and quickly swayed them to join their efforts against the Five. However, the elves were not pardoned from their duties to the city of Redcrest, and were not given leave from helping the city to supply itself before the siege. Before anything could be done about it, Malkum and Wraqull were summoned back to the city by L’Orxian himself.

L’Orxian, having been in council with Sir Errod and Lord Brenwulf about the preparations for war, had just received news from one of Errod’s men about the undead horde from the north. Malkum and Wraqull met with L’Orxian and Errod in the small camp the Men of Northwatch had made near the West Gate. Inside Errod’s command tent, they found standing there Landon, exhausted from journey and plight.

“Landon informs me that the horde will be here within a day’s march,” Errod said grimly.

“Where is Romulous?” Wraqull interrupted anxiously.

Landon, the scout, stepped forward, “I- I’m so sorry.” His voiced quivered before the mighty white dragonborn, as he reached into his cloaks and produced the splintered wood of an elven bow, split into two.

Both Wraqull and Malkum recognized it belonged to Romulous, it was the bow he had received from Finrel, the sorcerer in Redfall. Wraqull then uttered a vow of vengeance for the fallen elf, and he and Malkum were both fueled with rage by their friend’s ill fate. And silently to himself, L’Orxian hung his head in grief, wary now what the elf’s death truly meant, as he had recently discovered that Romulous himself was a direct heir of Tynriel, the son of Feradíl.

Outside, Nyxar and Natio were met by one of L’Orxian’s messengers, who told the guard warding over them that the two elves were to be allowed to leave the work, and were to meet with him immediately. Dismissing both elves, the two hurried back to the city to find the half-elf. But on their way back, an ambush was sprung as archer on the hillside began firing arrows down upon the refugees marching. The guard with them rode on horseback towards the West Gate, blowing a warning through his horn to the soldiers inside. From the walls, the warning could be heard, and the Men of Northwatch ran out from the gate and threw their shields over the refugees as they fled from the assault.

It was then that Malkum and Wraqull answered the horn’s call, and charged out of the West Gate with the Men of Northwatch, and rushed first to flank the archers on the hillside. L’Orxian took to the walls, and from there released arrow after arrow upon the ambushers. Errod ordered his men to get the refugees inside as quickly as possible, and to have the gates sealed quickly before any of the attackers could breach the walls.

Wraqull bore down on the archers quickly, swiftly running towards them until he was a claw’s reach away. From up close he could see the archers were corpses, undead monstrosities now unleashing arrows upon the defenseless refugees. We quickly slaughtered the first line of archers, and Malkum ran behind him to finish off the second. It was then that Malkum noticed the sigil these undead mongrels bore on their armors. With a glance up he saw to his horror marching rank upon rank down the hillside towards the West Gate and standing beneath the standard of the Wintered Skull was an army the spread out as vast as the eye could see. This was an army of the dead, an army that had slumbered silently in the cold north for a thousand years, an army that had finally awoken to its master’s call, an army that only once before had Malkum seen as still as death, and now this army was marching on the city. “It’s the Legion!” Malkum cried. The Men of Northwatched urged the refugees onwards to the gates. When they saw the sky go black again with a flood of arrows they lifted their shields once more, protecting the defenseless beside them.

But when no arrow met their shields, they looked up in awe. The sky was still black and littered by something flying towards them. “Those are not arrows,” one soldier said in disbelief. And swarming down on them like flies, a hundred crows dove upon the soldiers and the refugees, and flew to torment the city’s archers on the walls.

Pecking, biting, cawing, fluttering, the murder of crows caused havoc among the soldier’s ranks as the ranks of the Frozen Legion marched closer to the walls. In the chaos, all order was lost. The warriors could not find their front from their backs as their eyes were slapped continuously by black feathers. And in the fury, none could take notice as the skies grew ever darker.

Just as the crows dove upon the refugees both Nyxar and Natio took action. Noticing a second flank from the Legion trying to charge in, Nyxar broke away from the soldiers and began breaking apart the Legion’s front lines. From behind his fellow elf, Natio, unleashed sorcerer’s fire upon the undead horde from afar. But the two were quickly cut off from the Men of Northwatch, and soon Nyxar found himself surrounded by the Legion’s warriors while Natio was caught between swarms of the crows. As Nyxar fought off the undead, he found that with one fell touch the warriors of the Legion were able to reach into his spirit, and with a crippling cold touch he felt feared paralyze his very being. Unable to move, the elf was left helpless amidst the many corpses that now surrounded him.

On the fields opposite, Wraqull and Malkum were quickly surrounded by the ambush of the undead warriors. And with one fell swing, Wraqull found his great-axe torn from his claws and sent flying away from his reach. Though he was unwatered by the cold touch of these undead fiends, never, in all his life in the Northlands, had he faced a foe so great or so vast such as this.

Malkum fought to stand beside Wraqull, aiding him as they brought down the first wave of the Legion’s forces. But from over the hillside more ranks still marched onwards towards the walls, and the gates would soon be sealed shut to keep the assaulters outside the city.

On the walls, L’Orxian found himself being beaten and pecked by the crows, and near him an ill-tempered archer called Ryder was receiving the same fate. Arrow by arrow the two bowmen shot down crows one at a time. And with each peck or bite to the ear another two arrows came from L’Orxian, and from Ryder a stream of fowl curses and even fowler shots. They both picked off the crows little by little, until finally only a handful remained. And then L’Orxian was finally able to see over the fields and look for what fate had dealt to his friends.

Overpowered by the undead and the crows, both Nyxar and Natio fell against their foes’ onslaughts. Cut off from the soldiers and far from the city walls, it seemed that no aid would come to them. Until, rushing from inside the gates, one lone warrior ran out to reach for the fallen elves. A high elf, and priest to Feradíl, by the name of Halin ran over the battlefield and rushed to Natio’s side. With a prayer to the elven god he revived the fallen sorcerer, and then planted himself to stand against the several undead corpses shuffling towards them.

Wraqull and Malkum were overwhelmed by the Legion’s forces that were surrounding them, and soon Malkum fell to one of their foul blows. Cut off from the city, they were trapped in the middle of the battlefield and surrounded by enemies. But the rage of Wraqull was not so easily tempered, and he continued to unleash his fury upon the Legion’s soldier and crush them like twigs.

L’Orxian witnessed his friends falling one by one on the battlefield, and could not stand by and witness their dooms as he stayed hidden behind the walls. Launching himself over the walls with a great leap and a blast of magical fire, the half-elf flew over the battlefield and landed nearby Nyxar and in front of where Halin was standing.

And at that very moment, the warrior-priest of Feradíl raised his mace high. With his voice booming the ground shook, as he chanted the names of Feradíl and his fives sons. And trembling at the mention of the names for the ancient elven kings, the undead that had defeated Nyxar and were charging against Natio turned back and fled, while others fell and crumbled.

Halin then turned to the fallen dragonborn, Malkum, and revived him too to stand against the Legion. With a newfound strength, Malkum returned a wrath upon the Legion seven times greater that their own.

Then, out from the gates of Redcrest, a rider came charging onto the battlefield, and riding with all haste to where Nyxar had fallen. The rider broke through the Legion’s vanguard, and bore down where Nyxar’s limp body lay. He reached down and picked the elf’s body up, and flung him over his horse’s back, then turn back towards the gates and rode at all haste.

It was then by the healing words of L’Orxian that Nyxar was revived, and found himself on the back of this horse as the rider brought him closer to the city’s gates. “Who are you? What’s going on?!” The elf asked.

“My name is Landon!” The rider shouted in answer. “You fell on the field, I’m taking you back into the city!”

However, realizing that his allies were still in the battle, Nyxar refused and rolled off the rider’s mount. “Wait!” The rider called as the elf got off the horse and staggered back to the frey. Landon placed his horse between Nyxar and the battle, “You can’t go out there! It’s not safe, and the gates will be sealed soon!”

“I won’t forsake my fellows to die!” Nyxar replied, but even he could sense the great danger approaching. The skies had grown very dark in that hour, and fell and cold winds began to blow and snow began to fall. Soon the marching ranks of the Legion were naught more than moving waves of undead bodies against the white screen of snowfall. From where Nyxar stood he could barely spot where the others now stood, and he knew it was folly to chase after them.

“We should go back!” The rider yelled, his voice now competing with the howling wind. And just then, his horse’s head rose quickly, spooked by something hidden in the storm’s mist. Landon and Nyxar turned to look, just as a large white beast leapt from the snow’s mask and onto the horse’s back, knocking Landon off and pinning him to the ground.

Nyxar grabbed a mace from Landon’s saddle as he tried to calm the spooked horse down, and turned back to where the steed’s master was held beneath the claws of a great wolf and wrestling its jaws away from his neck. With a great blow to the beast’s skull he stunned the wolf and sent him staggering off of Landon’s body. Weakly Landon crawled over to his horse and grabbed onto one of the saddle’s latches, and the horse quickly dragged its master in towards the city gates.

Nyxar circled the large white monster before him, the wolf’s blue eyes staring back with a piercing glare and untempered hatred as it snarled and growled at the elf. Carefully stepping around the beast, awaiting its next attack, Nyxar never let his eyes move away from the creature’s.

Then, out from the mist of the snow and wind, Wraqull and Malkum leapt in and swung blow after blow against the unsuspecting wolf. Before the wolf could retaliate, another foe emerged as the archer Ryder walked out from the gate and shot several arrows into its heart, slaying the beast.

The wolf fell in a pool of its own blood on the ground. L’Orxian, Natio, and Halin all ran in just then as they all made for the gates. Once inside they ordered the soldiers seal it off, and to brace the gate with whatever they could before the assault began.

The wind blew harsher and faster, cold falling quickly upon the city’s walls inside and out. L’Orxian climbed to the top of the walls and stood there looking into the storm’s wind, “This is no ordinary storm, there is a fell magic on it,” he said. Then he raised his hands out searching for the source of the spell, and once finding it he chanted a few secret words, competing to dispel the curse that was being woven.

And in that instant, the storm’s winds calmed and the snow stopped falling. Standing there before him, outside the city walls he could see the countless numbers and ranks of the Frozen Legion. From far away on the crest of the hill, he could see standing behind all the ranks the commander of this great army. He saw out there a rider, with raven black hair and dressed in grey robes. It was Tougal, and beside him was another rider, whose armor and helmet were as black as brimstone, and he rode a black steed whose mane burned and glowed like fire.

Then L’Orxian could here Tougal’s voice utter some dark tongue, and the storm resumed. The snow and wind blew fiercer than before, the sky grew ever darker. From below the walls one could hear the voices of Errod and Brenwulf shouting to the men to prepare for battle, but for seven weary warriors rest was much needed, but in many ways it was not guaranteed.

The Siege of Redcrest had begun.