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 ...
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 voyage from Velious to Kunark took many days. As the ship cut through the waters of the Ocean of Tears, Caradawc spent long hours standing at the rail watching the endless horizon. Beside him, Izzy often spoke of the places she hoped to see, while Sunflower and Skittlesz debated which of the stories they had heard about Kunark were most likely to be true. Most agreed on one thing. Kunark was different. Older. Wilder. More dangerous. The continent had only recently become widely accessible to the peoples of Norrath, and stories of ancient kingdoms, lost magic, and forgotten treasures had spread rapidly across Antonica, Faydwer, and Odus. By the time the ship finally entered the harbour of Firiona Vie, Caradawc understood why. The docks were crowded with adventurers. Humans from Qeynos and Freeport. Dwarves from Kaladim. Elves from Kelethin and Felwithe. Erudites from Odus. Barbarians from the frozen north. Dozens of expeditions were forming and reforming throughout the settlem...
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