Timeline

Mephiston, Yohdels, and Scott’s character are sent to The Den to show the Krimkar that they have what it takes. They in turn kill their opponents, which were slaves that the Krimkar had gathered in the north. On the way back to the barracks they see Atreus raised on a spike, long dead. Mephiston is taken by the shamans to the shaman tent.

The rough hands of the Krimkar guards seize you, dragging your battered form through the dusty streets toward the heart of the town. The sun beats down mercilessly, casting long shadows over the gathered crowd that parts like a reluctant sea. Murmurs ripple through the onlookers—curious villagers, hardened warriors, and wide-eyed children—drawn by the spectacle of impending punishment. One of the guards, his voice gravelly and laced with contempt, raises a fist to silence the whispers: "This is what happens to those who are disloyal to Kram." The words hang heavy in the air, a grim proclamation that seals your fate as the crowd presses closer, eager for the show to begin. The torture unfolds slowly, deliberately, each lash of the whip and twist of the blade designed to draw out your agony under the watchful eyes of the assembly. The Krimkar man works with practiced indifference, his tools glinting in the harsh light as he inflicts wound after wound, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the dry dust kicked up by shuffling feet. At first, the crowd watches intently, some jeering, others murmuring in hushed fascination, but as the minutes stretch into an eternity of pain, boredom sets in. Faces turn away, conversations drift to mundane matters, and one by one, the spectators disperse—returning to their daily labors, leaving only a handful of indifferent guards to oversee the drawn-out torment. The once-captivated throng evaporates like morning mist, their fleeting interest a final insult amid your suffering. At last, with the square nearly empty, the end comes in a blur of final cruelty. A sharpened spike is rammed through your body, the shock of it ripping a gasp from your lips as you're hoisted fifteen feet into the air, displayed like a tattered banner for all to see. The world blurs below—the empty square, the distant murmurs of the town, the indifferent sky above. Pain surges in waves, but as life ebbs away, a strange calm settles over you. In this moment of ultimate defeat, you find an unexpected peace, welcoming death's cold embrace as the final release from the Krimkar's unyielding grasp.

Under the shadow of the looming Black Spire, a group of weary travelers—Mephiston, Yohdels, Atreus, Thrain, and young Kreefdin—approached the half-built fortress, its wooden walls rising like jagged teeth against the rugged foothills. The air hummed with the sounds of construction—slaves hauling timber, hammers echoing off stone—as Krimkar guards, clad in rough leathers and bearing cruel blades, barred their path. "Weapons down," barked the lead guard, his voice gravelly and unyielding. "Offer your coin to Lord Kram, or face the spikes." The travelers complied, laying aside their arms, though Atreus clutched a hidden dagger, hoping to conceal it from prying eyes.

As they entered the fortress gates, the hidden blade was discovered in a swift, brutal search. The guard's strike was merciless—a dagger plunged into Atreus's back, twisting with cold precision. Blood spilled onto the dusty ground as Atreus collapsed, gasping, while his companions pleaded desperately for aid. But Kram Krimkar, emerging from the shadows with a sneer, denied their cries. "No mercy for the foolish," he declared, his eyes gleaming with indifference. Atreus lay still, life ebbing away in the unforgiving courtyard.

The survivors—Mephiston, Yohdels, Thrain, and Kreefdin—were herded toward the mercenary barracks, a grim structure of rough-hewn logs and iron bars, where they would await their fate. Only the young dwarf Kreefdin was singled out, sent away with a shove and a warning, disappearing into the maze of construction as the fortress loomed ever larger, a symbol of Krimkar's growing dominion.

Under a relentless sun on the dusty southern road to JanCastle, Mephiston, Yohdels, Atreus, Thrain, and young Kreefdin pressed onward, intent on returning the boy to his uncle. The journey had been uneventful until a band of rough Krimkar raiders emerged from the scrub, blocking their path with drawn weapons and grim stares. Outnumbered and weary, the group faced a stark ultimatum from the leader: submit to a slow death impaled on roadside stakes, or surrender and go with them as captives.

Whispers passed among the travelers—Mephiston’s steady gaze meeting Yohdels’, Atreus clenching his fists, and Kreefdin shrinking back. With no clear escape and the raiders’ blades glinting, they chose survival over a pointless end, lowering their heads as ropes bound their wrists and the Krimkar herded them away from the familiar path.

Mephiston arrived at the rugged town of Frey Wall, its walls scarred by years of border skirmishes. Seeking aid after his ordeal in Hakurro, he approached Eric JanCastle, a shrewd and ambitious member of the ruling family, known for his alliances with goblin clans. Their meeting took place in a dimly lit tavern, where the air was thick with the scent of ale and suspicion.

As Mephiston recounted the goblin attacks on his cabin and the capture that followed, Eric listened intently, his eyes narrowing at the mention of Olub's forces. Mephiston described the goblin stronghold, the ambushes in the woods, and the threats to travelers, hoping to rally support against the growing menace. Eric, ever the opportunist, probed for details on the group's strength and tactics.

Surprised that the elf had survived and slain some of his goblin allies, Eric concealed his irritation behind a calculating smile. He assured Mephiston of JanCastle's protection but secretly plotted to capture the adventurers, enlisting the Krimkar raiders to intercept them on the road. Their combat prowess, he reasoned, could be turned to his advantage in the looming conflicts.

Willow stirred awake in the dank confines of a goblin dungeon, her head pounding from the brutal strike. Fragments of memory pieced together the events leading to her capture. A dwarf named Doleb from JanCastle had approached her with a task: investigate reports of goblin activity in the woods near Fray Wall. Having grown up in the area, Willow was familiar with the terrain and had spent countless hours adventuring with friends during her childhood, while her parents remained occupied with their demanding work. She vividly recalled stepping into a concealed trap net, the ropes ensnaring her limbs in an instant, followed by the swift, merciless bash from a goblin's club that sent her spiraling into unconsciousness.

Mephiston now remembered something about how he got here. He had been working on the construction of his new cabin, where he and his wife Haila were to live this coming winter. The construction was coming along slower than expected, so he was hard at work trying to finish it. As he labored, goblins appeared from the woods. He grabbed his weapon, but it was too late. A bag was over his head before he knew it. Haila was supposed to visit from her hometown of Morfell that day. He was now worried about her safety.

Merth and Jilna run into the woods after escaping Hakurro. Mephiston and Merth meet up with Elbob, Yohdels, Atreus, and Scott’s Character. The combined group returns to Hakurro.

After the harrowing escape from Hakurro, Elbob and Willow chose to separate from the group, driven by a longing for the familiar streets of home. They said their goodbyes to Yohdels, Mephiston, Atreus, and Thrain, who pressed on with their own paths ahead. With weary steps, Elbob and Willow ventured back through the dense forest, navigating the winding trails that led northward to Frey Wall, the rugged city where their roots lay deep.

You now remember something about how you got here. You were sent on an errand by your scribe master, Jilna to the town of Morfell, when your caravan was attacked by goblins. You remember only the caravan on fire, the horse being butchered, and being knocked in the head with a rock.