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The Arcane Order |
| An unnatural fog hung over the sleepy village
of Tel'Ruid. None of the residents had yet begun to awaken and all was
perfectly still. Not even the normal creatures stirred from there holes
and nests. No monsters roamed the glade, yet the area was thick with the
feeling of oppression.
The sun gradually began its ascent into the sky. The air tried hard to lift the impenetrable curtain of fog as it began to warm. Slowly the feeling of dread began to fade with the mists. Creatures stirred now, poking there heads from there dens and places of hiding. A large grizzly lifted his nose to the wind and sniffed at the air as if to make sure all was clear. He then padded his way past the guild hall toward the dojo where a glint of metal reflecting the newly risen sun had caught its eye. There next to one of the towns archery buttes lay a figure clad in mail. Shorter than a human and broader of shoulder; the beard being the final sign that this was a dwarf. His face was a frozen mask of terror... eyes wide and mouth drawn in a silent scream. Those that knew him would recognize him as Balin Fireforge. From Balin's chest the thing that had killed him was still lodged tight. A long sturdy tree branch. It had punctured his chest right through his heavy platemail. Next to Balin's broken body lay a piece of parchment. The hand it was written in was elegant. Large looping letters that did little to disguise the threat the note contained. "Deliver the dryad." is all it said. |
| Khalin wandered toward the Glade from the
west, leaving the acrid smells and the wailing sounds of the crypts far
behind. Already the glow of morning had begun passed its comfortable
levels, and the drow found himself squinting hard as the sun rose in the
east, painfully illuminating the mist-covered village.
He approached the main fairway beginning at the Silver Arrow, and left the wilds of Spiritwood behind him. A layer of mist still blanketed the ground, and the air had a still, soundless quality to it that reminded him briefly of his homeland. But the unrelenting warmth of the sun on his chest quickly dispelled the image. As he walked gracefully and silently, he could not help but notice the lack of activity in the glade. He had noticed it in the woods as well. Not a creature stirred, it seemed -- and that alone was cause for worry. His senses heightened in anticipation of trouble, even in this silent place. He readied his war fork and his kite shield, suspecting something was not right. Just ahead of him, his view was obscured by a poorly located home -- it only served to interrupt the main fairway of Tel'Ruid. The drow made his way around the building, bringing the guild hall and the dojo into view. And there was something just on the far side of the Dojo, at the base of the hill that led to Cirdan's tower, still partly obscured by the creeping mist and the intensity of the morning sun to the drow's eyes... He advanced cautiously, seeing something moving there. After a few more steps, he heard the familiar growl of a grizzly. His guard relaxed somewhat, drawing some comfort from the presence of the creature. But the comfort quickly vanished when he finally recognized what lay before the grizzly. There, on the ground, was a familiar-looking dwarf. His chest was run through by a large branch. Khalin knelt down, smelling the stench of dead wood and glancing at a parchment that lay next to the dwarf's body. The drow's eyes narrowed as he picked up the note and read the message inscribed upon it. "Nau..." |
The
Library Arcane: The Lord of the Dead