iven by the common desire to journey to the legendary ruins of the once magnificent Netheril city now known as Spellgard, it came to be that a most unlikely group of adventurers would join forces. Though they find themselves joined in arms with those who but few days ago they called strangers, each of them are driven by their own goals, goals that they could not hope to accomplish on their own. For now, this band of unlikely adventurers requires one another. Will we see them come to find one another as friend, or see them go their separate ways once they have gained that which they seek? Only time will tell…
This story begins in the city of Llorkh, nestled in the Grey Vale beyond the Greypeak Mountains. It is here where each of the heroes first met one another. Many of them had traveled a long and perilous road to reach Llorkh, coming from places such as Zelbross, Deepspur and even the Underdark. Regardless, they now all found themselves seeking safe passage to Spellgard, if such a thing even existed. Warnings of danger were all that were offered by person after person in their inquires.
“Beware the Goblins, they have ambushed many along the road leading to that place”, a Dragonborn merchant warned.
“Do watch out for the Lizardfolk north east of here, they have been know to attack!”, offered yet another.
Indeed it was true, The Fallen Lands were a dangerous place to journey, made even more so since the rise of the Spellplague.
Soon it came to their attention that a Dwarf merchant calling himself Thurr Gargengrim was to lead a trade caravan to the Monastery of the Precipice located in the ruins of Spellgard which would depart in only a few days time. Seeing no safer alternative each of the heroes began to trickle into Thurr’s shop hoping to gain admittance into the caravan. As he had done on countless trips in the past, Thurr gladly welcomed anyone who sought to journey to Spellgard to join his caravan. And so it came to be that our unlikely group of heroes were finally united. Little did they know how the events of the future would forever entwine their lives together in unimaginable ways.
All was unexpectedly quite during their travels, that is until near the end of the third day as the caravan was slowly making progress over the ill-maintained road winding through the Valley of the Dogs. Lying in wait a group of Hobgoblins sprang their well prepared ambush on the unsuspecting and road weary caravan. A barrage of arrows and spears rained down upon the travelers striking three dead instantly. At a full sprint the Hobgoblins charged out of the thick tree line carrying rusty swords and wooden shields bearing the symbol of a clenched fist. Witnessing firsthand the extraordinary abilities of one another, the Heroes began to fight together against this common enemy. The battle raged for several minutes and in the end the Hobgoblins lie either dead or fleeing, mainly at the hands of the Heroes.
Fearing the Hobgoblins would return in stronger force the caravan pushed on with haste, traveling until sun light no longer illuminated their way. Calling the caravan to a stop, Thurr’s voice cracked through the crisp air like thunder.
“We shall make camp here for the night, Spellgard is but half a days travel from here. We shall depart at first light”.
Having found some common ground in the battle earlier that day the heroes decided to make camp with one another. Before they could get too comfortable however, they were interrupted by the arrival of Thurr.
“An unlikely lot of adventurers you be, but none the less I can say I’m glad to have you along. Allow me to offer you some sundries and ale, a token of my appreciation for your assistance with those nasty Hobgoblins”, Thurr offered in his most pleasant voice possible.
Gladly accepting, the group made small talk with Thurr learning rumors and information on Spellgard which he freely shared. The group learned that in the two decades he had been leading caravans up to Spellgard he often brought along adventures seeking to go there.
“Many folk seek to go to that place, mostly to try and speak with that Ghost Lady they say lives there. Answers any question asked of her they say, though I don’t believe in that prophecy junk they be spewin’, that’s for fools and those who have stared at the sun too long!”
Rumors of a dark presence at Spellgard, missing seekers, and an army of Orcs on the march through the Fallen Lands filled the ears of the heroes as Thurr continued. Before retiring for the night Thurr offered one last warning to the heroes.
“Not all who look for that Ghost Lady operate out of the Monastery there, seeker camps dot the ruins, and some of their residents are as dangerous as any monsters roaming the Fallen Lands”.
Just as Thurr has said, it only took the caravan a half days travel to finally reach Spellgard. But what would await the heroes there?
- The Collections of Halmester, Chapter 1