Frostreaver Saga

The journey to Qeynos and the completion of his initiation had changed Caradawc in ways he was only beginning to understand. The Symbol of the Tribunal hung proudly around his neck, and the magical hammer it could summon had become a trusted companion. Yet despite his growing confidence, he could not shake the feeling that his education was incomplete. The spirits seemed restless. In dreams he saw wolves standing silently among ancient trees. Hawks circled above distant forests. Great bears watched him from the edge of moonlit clearings. Again and again the same images returned. Eventually the signs became impossible to ignore. The spirits were calling him south. The road led him to Surefall Glade. Hidden deep within the forests of Antonica, the glade felt different from the cities and settlements Caradawc had visited. Here there were no merchants shouting their wares, no guards patrolling walls, and no adventurers boasting of their latest victories. The trees themselves seemed ancient...

The Fellowship of Everfrost had served its purpose. The mammoth hunts were complete. The gigantic ice spiders had been driven back. The mysteries surrounding the Splitpaw messenger discovered in Blackburrow still lingered unanswered. Eventually Kazin and Dragoness chose to pursue their own adventures elsewhere in Norrath. The parting was friendly, but it left only three companions determined to follow the trail south. Caradawc. Cymru. Izzy. Together they crossed the Karanas in search of the distant gnoll stronghold whose influence had already reached Blackburrow. Eventually they found it. Splitpaw. The entrance alone hinted at the dangers waiting within. This was no crude burrow dug into the earth. The tunnels stretched deep beneath the plains, defended by organised and disciplined gnolls far stronger than those encountered in Blackburrow. The three companions descended cautiously into the darkness. At first progress was slow but steady. They fought their way through the outer tunnels ...

The frozen wilderness of Everfrost had taught Caradawc an important lesson. He was not yet strong enough. The deeper reaches of the tundra held dangers beyond his ability to overcome alone. Mammoths wandered the snowfields like living fortresses, snow leopards stalked the drifts with deadly patience, and every excursion beyond the familiar hunting grounds ended with the same conclusion: courage alone was not enough. If he wished to grow stronger, he would need allies. Fortunately, Caradawc knew exactly where to find them. To the south lay Blackburrow, the sprawling gnoll stronghold that threatened both Halas and Qeynos alike. There, barbarian warriors from Halas had joined forces with human adventurers from Qeynos in a common cause. The ancient rivalries and differences between the two cities mattered little beneath the earth where gnolls prowled the tunnels. In Blackburrow, survival depended upon cooperation. Caradawc travelled south and joined the fight. The tunnels were as dangerous...

The wind howled across the ice plains like a living thing. To the south, beyond the frozen valleys and snow-choked ridges, softer men spoke of winter as a season. In Halas they knew better. Winter was the world itself. The city crouched against the mountains like an old bear weathering a storm, its timber halls dark with smoke and seal-oil flame. Great hides hung from beams blackened by generations of fire. Mead flowed thick as blood. Warriors bellowed songs into the rafters while hunters dragged in the carcasses of wolves and tundra kodiaks from the wastes beyond. It was there, in the hall of the Shamans of Justice, that Caradawc first stood before the old spirits. He owned little. A rough blue shirt. A battered cudgel. A pair of cracked boots. A few copper pieces. The guild elders had given him blessings, stern advice, and very little else. "The spirits care nothing for comfort," one of them had growled. At the time, Caradawc suspected that was merely an excuse for sending ...