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<blockquote data-quote="Mahiro Satsu" data-source="post: 304606" data-attributes="member: 4970"><p><strong>Prologue - The Story of Temuel Khiv</strong></p><p></p><p>I have hunted the necromancer Ruathgrym for two long years...</p><p></p><p>From the Dales in the east I followed his trail, seeking him all through the Year of the Agate Hammer and the Year of the Storm Skeleton, and almost caught him once while crossing the Thunder Peaks. The Necromancer’s Art brought the walls of the canyon in upon my companions of the Ironbell Fellowship—delaying me long enough for the “Corpsecoil” to slip away, but killing the rest. Now I have finally trailed him into the realm of Esparin. He cannot go far in the deep of winter, and I sense that the Necromancer is close...I am a Holy Blade of Tempus. I can never cease my search, until it be done.</p><p></p><p>1176 DR, Year of the Prowling Naga, 14 Hammer</p><p></p><p>On the 14th of Hammer I reach Eveningstar, a tiny hamlet swamped by drifts of snow at the stout Starwater Bridge, in the Northern Marches of Esparin.</p><p></p><p>It is composed of Tower Redhand, the Jagged Jaws Inn, and Tethyr’s Hardware and Sundries. There are a total of three residences as well, but these are outlying farms to the west. </p><p>The “Warrior Queen” Enchara is known to be prowling the region with a large detachment of soldiers. The winter has been harsh indeed, and it is said that Enchara’s forces are here to protect a large caravan of food and supplies headed east to the Dales.</p><p></p><p>I join my old friend Redhand of Clan Darkfell at his tower this night. The wind howls through the tower battlements and flickers the flames in the hearth where I warm my frozen toes. He built this tower with his stubby, callused hands, Redhand did, just as he built the Starwater Bridge. I drink ale with the dwarf. </p><p></p><p>“Many troubles that have come knocking with hammers upon my Clan's doors,” he groans.</p><p></p><p>King Under the Gorge Cindarm is still fighting the Splintered Shin, a vile and cruel tribe of goblins (and deep worgs) that have been assailing Aerunedar for over a year. There seems to be no end to the foul goblins, while the dwarves cannot replenish their armies fast enough to replace the fallen. </p><p>“ ‘Tis thought some other Power holds the leash of the Splintered Shin—their strategies are too cunning,” says Redhand, “but neither Cindarm nor his bard Hathos have been able to identify the wurgym bastards. Not yet.”</p><p></p><p>Then there is the “Bandit King” Rivior, who is planning more raids than he should, in Redhand’s opinion—but how can Rivior refuse the hunger of his men? “We dwarves of Clan Darkfell built for Rivior a fine secret Hall—a back-up for his Keep in Starwater Gorge—but what good if its limestone corridors serve merely as a place for Rivior’s men to starve?” </p><p></p><p>Redhand claims to know for certain that Rivior is planning to ambush the food caravan despite the presence of the “Warrior Queen” in the region.</p><p></p><p>Abruptly comes a muffled knock upon the tower’s oaken portal…it is Rivior himself, with his men, on his way to a rendezvous with Myrkul, Lord of Bones. He tells Redhand of his plans, and asks that the dwarf watch over a young boy, no more than eleven, named Ummatin Tencloak.</p><p></p><p>“Rivior, I do not think this raid is a good idea.” My words are firm.</p><p></p><p>“My dear Temuel,” says the bandit King with a droll curl of his lip, “I’m touched at your concern. You do not need to worry about me; I and my men will be fine.”</p><p></p><p>He cannot be dissuaded. They depart into the storm.</p><p></p><p>With the boy settled, I finally get to the point of my visit: my hunt for Ruathgrym, the Corpsecoil.</p><p></p><p>“Ruathgrym?” cries Redhand in alarm. “A necromancer? He became Rivior’s pet mage only a month ago.”</p><p></p><p>“I assure you he is no ‘pet.’ He raised an army of vile undead against the Dales not two years ago, and slew my companions at Thunder Gap.”</p><p></p><p>“Then we must warn Rivior,” Redhand says simply. He pulls a glassy egg-shaped item from the mantle. “Take this, old friend. Break it at the feet of the necromancer, and no matter how mighty he be, the magics will be wiped from his mind in one stroke.”</p><p></p><p>Hastily grabbing weapons and furred cloaks, we depart into the frigid howling storm.</p><p></p><p>A streak of light from the haze of snow.</p><p></p><p>Redhand’s stone Tower vaporizes into a blossom of bright orange flame. Smoking fragments rain all around us, and the ground trembles as the structure folds upon itself.</p><p></p><p>It is the Corpsecoil, a tattered black apparition drifting a league off the ground. His pale jade eyes glower down upon us. “Temuel,” he hisses. “You should not have come.”</p><p></p><p>“Ruathgrym,” I say, reaching for the pommel of the Blood Point, “your time is ended.”</p><p></p><p>Ruathgrym’s answer is a single word that smashes into my brain. My eyes pound with agony. The snow rushes up to meet me with a chill palm.</p><p></p><p>As Redhand shouts a hoarse battle cry and brings back his axe to throw, the Corpsecoil pulls a leather glove over one pale hand. A great translucent fist appears beside him. Redhand is scooped from the ground and lifted out over the pond. I reel in despair. I can do nothing.</p><p></p><p>Redhand is dropped a hundred feet onto the frozen pond, with a great clamor of armor, and there is the high glassy squeal of great panes of ice fracturing. But Redhand stands, defiant, and takes a single step…</p><p></p><p>…and plunges through the ice.</p><p></p><p>“Give up, Sir Temuel,” breathes the Corpsecoil. “I am not the only one of my Order who has come to Starwater Gorge. Leave this place before you tempt their wrath as well as mine.”</p><p></p><p>And abruptly, he is gone.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mahiro Satsu, post: 304606, member: 4970"] [b]Prologue - The Story of Temuel Khiv[/b] I have hunted the necromancer Ruathgrym for two long years... From the Dales in the east I followed his trail, seeking him all through the Year of the Agate Hammer and the Year of the Storm Skeleton, and almost caught him once while crossing the Thunder Peaks. The Necromancer’s Art brought the walls of the canyon in upon my companions of the Ironbell Fellowship—delaying me long enough for the “Corpsecoil” to slip away, but killing the rest. Now I have finally trailed him into the realm of Esparin. He cannot go far in the deep of winter, and I sense that the Necromancer is close...I am a Holy Blade of Tempus. I can never cease my search, until it be done. 1176 DR, Year of the Prowling Naga, 14 Hammer On the 14th of Hammer I reach Eveningstar, a tiny hamlet swamped by drifts of snow at the stout Starwater Bridge, in the Northern Marches of Esparin. It is composed of Tower Redhand, the Jagged Jaws Inn, and Tethyr’s Hardware and Sundries. There are a total of three residences as well, but these are outlying farms to the west. The “Warrior Queen” Enchara is known to be prowling the region with a large detachment of soldiers. The winter has been harsh indeed, and it is said that Enchara’s forces are here to protect a large caravan of food and supplies headed east to the Dales. I join my old friend Redhand of Clan Darkfell at his tower this night. The wind howls through the tower battlements and flickers the flames in the hearth where I warm my frozen toes. He built this tower with his stubby, callused hands, Redhand did, just as he built the Starwater Bridge. I drink ale with the dwarf. “Many troubles that have come knocking with hammers upon my Clan's doors,” he groans. King Under the Gorge Cindarm is still fighting the Splintered Shin, a vile and cruel tribe of goblins (and deep worgs) that have been assailing Aerunedar for over a year. There seems to be no end to the foul goblins, while the dwarves cannot replenish their armies fast enough to replace the fallen. “ ‘Tis thought some other Power holds the leash of the Splintered Shin—their strategies are too cunning,” says Redhand, “but neither Cindarm nor his bard Hathos have been able to identify the wurgym bastards. Not yet.” Then there is the “Bandit King” Rivior, who is planning more raids than he should, in Redhand’s opinion—but how can Rivior refuse the hunger of his men? “We dwarves of Clan Darkfell built for Rivior a fine secret Hall—a back-up for his Keep in Starwater Gorge—but what good if its limestone corridors serve merely as a place for Rivior’s men to starve?” Redhand claims to know for certain that Rivior is planning to ambush the food caravan despite the presence of the “Warrior Queen” in the region. Abruptly comes a muffled knock upon the tower’s oaken portal…it is Rivior himself, with his men, on his way to a rendezvous with Myrkul, Lord of Bones. He tells Redhand of his plans, and asks that the dwarf watch over a young boy, no more than eleven, named Ummatin Tencloak. “Rivior, I do not think this raid is a good idea.” My words are firm. “My dear Temuel,” says the bandit King with a droll curl of his lip, “I’m touched at your concern. You do not need to worry about me; I and my men will be fine.” He cannot be dissuaded. They depart into the storm. With the boy settled, I finally get to the point of my visit: my hunt for Ruathgrym, the Corpsecoil. “Ruathgrym?” cries Redhand in alarm. “A necromancer? He became Rivior’s pet mage only a month ago.” “I assure you he is no ‘pet.’ He raised an army of vile undead against the Dales not two years ago, and slew my companions at Thunder Gap.” “Then we must warn Rivior,” Redhand says simply. He pulls a glassy egg-shaped item from the mantle. “Take this, old friend. Break it at the feet of the necromancer, and no matter how mighty he be, the magics will be wiped from his mind in one stroke.” Hastily grabbing weapons and furred cloaks, we depart into the frigid howling storm. A streak of light from the haze of snow. Redhand’s stone Tower vaporizes into a blossom of bright orange flame. Smoking fragments rain all around us, and the ground trembles as the structure folds upon itself. It is the Corpsecoil, a tattered black apparition drifting a league off the ground. His pale jade eyes glower down upon us. “Temuel,” he hisses. “You should not have come.” “Ruathgrym,” I say, reaching for the pommel of the Blood Point, “your time is ended.” Ruathgrym’s answer is a single word that smashes into my brain. My eyes pound with agony. The snow rushes up to meet me with a chill palm. As Redhand shouts a hoarse battle cry and brings back his axe to throw, the Corpsecoil pulls a leather glove over one pale hand. A great translucent fist appears beside him. Redhand is scooped from the ground and lifted out over the pond. I reel in despair. I can do nothing. Redhand is dropped a hundred feet onto the frozen pond, with a great clamor of armor, and there is the high glassy squeal of great panes of ice fracturing. But Redhand stands, defiant, and takes a single step… …and plunges through the ice. “Give up, Sir Temuel,” breathes the Corpsecoil. “I am not the only one of my Order who has come to Starwater Gorge. Leave this place before you tempt their wrath as well as mine.” And abruptly, he is gone. [/QUOTE]
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