Timeline

Amid the chilling winds of the mountainside, the adventurers gripped their weapons tightly as the icy fog crept toward them. Harlina, the halfling rogue, scouted ahead, noticing strange pillars of ice and scattered dwarves fending off small crystalline creatures. What began as a quiet recon mission quickly escalated into a frantic battle. Drokin, the human fighter, kept his distance, waiting for the right moment to strike. Ragana, ever the sharp-eyed elf, remained in the shadows with her bow drawn, while Dow, the stalwart dwarven paladin, ambled down the hill, confident but wary.

It wasn’t long before the creatures—ice shards animated by some malevolent force—sprang forth, shattering on impact and reforming with terrifying speed. Drokin clashed with them head-on, his sword whirling in deadly arcs, but their numbers and resilience pressed him back. Close by, Harlina deftly ducked around strikes and took out several shards with quick blows from her axe. Dow, with holy determination, strode into the fray, his flail cracking through the frozen forms. Ragana focused her aim on the strange ice pillars, suspecting they were the key to the creatures’ strength.

A colossal ice golem emerged from the swirling fog, towering over the battlefield. With thundering steps, it pummeled the ground, flinging Drokin backward into the freezing brush. Dow rushed to his side, murmuring healing prayers that glowed in the frigid air. Harlina dove into the heart of the fight, realizing that the golem’s strength was tied to the standing pillars; each wound she made was quickly repaired unless the pillars were destroyed. Ragana loosed an arrow and shattered one of the pillars, sending a shockwave of weakness through the golem and its minions.

Encouraged by the discovery, the party targeted the pillars. Harlina struck the next down with a clean blow, while Dow supported, keeping Drokin from falling to the golem's brutal attacks. Ragana’s arrows broke a third pillar into jagged splinters. As each pillar fell, the behemoth staggered, its icy limbs losing strength. The golem’s massive fist swung, narrowly missing Drokin, who sprang from the brush to deliver a decisive slash. With a final strike from Harlina, the last pillar crumbled, and the golem let out a groaning roar before collapsing in a cascade of ice and snow.

As the battlefield fell eerily quiet, the party stood victorious among the scattered shards and broken pillars. The grateful dwarves they had saved began to stir, giving the adventurers a chance to breathe and contemplate the deeper mystery of the icy forces lurking within the mountain. This was only the beginning.

As dawn broke over the icy slopes, the group gathered their courage and prepared to delve into the cave. The day before had been a hard-fought struggle against the ice creature, and the arrival of snarling wolves in the night had left them wary but resolute. With Harlina taking the lead, they crossed a treacherous stretch of frozen stream glinting in the early morning light. The halfling’s nimble steps guided them across, while the others followed more cautiously, with Dow bringing up the rear, watchful for dangers behind. Ragana scouted the area, searching for signs of traps or ancient markings. Along the walls of ice and stone, she noted the peculiar uniformity; the cavern might not be as natural as it appeared.

Ahead lay remnants of the miners’ efforts—rough-hewn pickaxes and tarps dusted in frost. Yet it was the strange blue mist that drew their attention, rising faintly from deeper within. Where the miners had stopped, a narrow passage continued downward. “If anyone sees anything that doesn’t feel right,” Ragana warned, “keep an eye open for runes. We may have awakened something that slumbers.”

Drokin gripped his sword tightly as they moved deeper into the belly of the cave, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. A tense silence settled over them, a sense that at any moment the ground could shake or shadows could leap to life. Harlina kept her footing sure, while Dow stayed alert for tricks and traps. The memory of their fight with the icy creature lingered. Here in this cold hollow of earth, beneath layers of rock and ice, treasure awaited—but so did peril unspoken and unseen.

They pressed on, deeper into the mysterious cavern, determined to uncover the truth behind these frozen disturbances. Something ancient, something cold, waited below. And they would face it together.

In the frozen hush of the cavern, the party stood before an ice-sealed waterfall, its crystalline surface glinting faintly. Ragana surveyed the walls, tracing sharp angles carved by hands long vanished. It was clear—the cave was not entirely natural. There were old, intentional cuts in the stone, worn by time.

Drokin stepped forward, finding faint, ancient patterns. Some civilization’s hand had shaped this place. Harlina, ever curious, brushed away frost along the cave wall, while Dow tapped the stone, feeling for clues. Although they confirmed the cave had been crafted, their search for more was interrupted by a discovery: a tunnel hewn higher in the rock face, a more recent addition. Rough tool marks suggested someone had clawed or hammered their way into the mountain’s heart. The tunnel was small, perhaps newly worked—but it beckoned.

“I’ll go,” Ragana offered quietly. Dow gave a curt nod, and Harlina volunteered to scout as well. Drokin chuckled, readying his sword. “We’ll be right behind you.”

The group assembled at the tunnel as the frozen waterfall cast a faint chill behind them. The tunnel above yawned, dark and rugged. Something awaited beyond—something old, something forgotten. They pressed on, every step echoing in the cavern’s silence, each heartbeat pounding with the promise of discovery.

Ragana, Harlina, Dow, and Drokin arrive at the village of Stormhaven, having left their home of Hollow Reed behind. They are greeted by the village chief, Thorne, who says that a prophecy foretold their arrival, that four outsiders would arrive and defeat the creatures attacking the village at night.

As twilight descended upon the snow-laden village, the adventurers gathered their courage and prepared for a daunting trek into the nearby woods. Harlina, the halfling rogue, clutched a torch to pierce the gloom, while Drokin, the human fighter, ensured his weapon was ready. Dow, the dwarven paladin, stood resolute, and Ragana, the elven rogue, nocked her bow. The woods, ever hostile and dark, stretched out before them, shrouded in an eerie, palpable tension.

Just as they began their journey, Elder Thorne appeared, anxiously questioning their intentions. The party’s goal was clear: hunt down whatever lurked in the shadows, suspected by Thorne and others to be wolves. But the group had their doubts. The inconsistencies in Thorn’s words gnawed at their instincts as more seemed to be happening beneath the surface. Thorne hurried off, leaving behind a nagging suspicion.

The adventurers scouted the edge of the village. Before long, crackling blue lights emerged from the woods—four brittle crystalline humanoids, their luminous cores pulsing like frozen stars. These creatures, made of jagged ice, shambled forward with an insect-like rapidity. A fierce skirmish erupted. Drokin swung his blade with ferocity, shattering one of the icy fiends into frosted shards. Dow’s relentless mace pulverized another, while Ragana’s arrow found its mark. Harlina’s quick reflexes cleaved through the third. The last, sensing defeat, tried to flee, only for Ragana’s arrow to claim it as well. The woods fell quiet once more, with only the fragments of strange ice creatures left behind, humming with otherworldly energy.

Sensing there was more beneath the village’s surface, Ragana and Harlina stealthily crept ahead to investigate the blue fog emanating deeper in the forest. There, moving silently and unseen, they watched as a towering ice golem lumbered past them. Its chilling form became one with the fog. The roguish scouts returned to the group, hearts pounding, forewarning of the strange connection to primordial magics at play.

A plan was hatched in hushed whispers: it was time to confront Thorn. Ragana, her nerves taut as a bowstring, crept into his home. She found the elder fast asleep with a tome of strange symbols open on his chest. Pages upon pages of translations littered his bedside—he was translating the knowledge of an ancient civilization that revered the Eternal Frost.

Ragana, though filled with trepidation, gleaned what she could and slipped out, narrowly avoiding detection. She relayed the unsettling discovery to the rest of the group. The night passed, though a tense encounter with Sten, another villager, and an offering of ominous midnight stew kept them wary. As dawn broke, the haunting blue fog would no doubt demand further answers.

In the shadowed halls of Silvereth, Estemar the archmage delved deep into ancient tomes and arcane rituals, his mind bent on crafting a spell of unparalleled power. Days blurred into nights as he wove threads of time and fate, drawing upon the city's mystical energies to prepare for a journey that could alter the course of history. His hands trembled with the weight of the incantations, knowing that this enchantment would pierce the veil of time itself, offering a glimmer of redemption for a world teetering on the brink of despair.

Meanwhile, across the lands of Vinor, Tempest, Vulgena, Geira, Ignis, and Erebus embarked on a perilous quest, their boots tracing paths through mist-shrouded forests and forgotten ruins. These enigmatic figures, bound by a shared purpose, sought out heroes untainted by the tragedies of JanCastle—warriors whose destinies had not yet intersected with the dark machinations of Mephiston. They whispered tales in taverns and shadowed alleys, probing for those brave souls willing to venture into the past, where they might shield Mephiston's beloved wife from the encroaching doom.

The hope lay in rewriting a single thread of fate: preserving her life would not erase the scars of JanCastle's fall, but it could soften Mephiston's heart, steering him from the abyss of vengeance. In the aftermath of destruction, a redeemed Mephiston might stand beside Estemar, rallying the scattered remnants of the city to reclaim their home. United against Kram's tyranny, they could forge a new dawn, where the echoes of lost battles gave way to the promise of renewal. The spell's culmination approached on the first day of the new year, January 1st, 161 J.C., a beacon for those who dared to defy the currents of time.

Tempest, Vulgena, Geira, Ignis, and Erebus travel south by the coast, a six month journey around the lands of JanCastle, now controlled by the Krimkar. On the last leg of the journey they are finally able to travel by boat. They arrive at the port of Riverhold to see it in ruins. Rotten bodies liter the ground. A single hooded figure sits on the port.

"I have waited for your arrival for years" speaks the hooded figure.

"Who are you?" Tempest replies.

"I am JanCastle" speaks the old man. "Or rather, all that remains of JanCastle. The king is dead. They are all dead."

"Storm?" Vulgena says in shock.

"Yes, even he" replied the man. "And his son, and Lysander and the lords. And the whole of the people. Slaughtered by the Krimkar."

"Who are you, old man?" Ignis interjected.

The man pulled off his hood, revealing an old warn face. "I am the one who sent you away. Estemar of Ald Satha."

They stood shocked by what their eyes say and ears heard. After a minute of silence, finally Tempest spoke up. "Why did you send us away, we could have been here to help!"

"All according to my plan. Mephiston is dead?" Estemar asked.

"Yes, 6 months ago. Died by my own hand" Vulgena answered.

"Then, we come to the last stage of the plan" Estemar continued. "Mephiston is dead, and I once again have power over Vinor within the Veil. I cannot undo what has been done. At least not entirely."

"Speak plainly" Ignis demanded.

"You must befriend Mephiston" Estemar explained to confused eyes. "Before his dead. Before the death of your mentors. Before any of this happened, Mephiston lived on the edge of the Dark Wood. When the Krimkar returned after a generation of exile in the swamps of the north, they killed his wife. The darkness of Hakurro grew upon Mephiston's depression. His magic grew likewise, and it swirled with the bitterness of Eric JanCastle. In the end, hopelessness and bitterness brought down the kingdom."

"That was years ago" Tempest stated. "Rumors of these stories have come to my ears by my mentor, Jorell. The anger of Mephiston brought him to his death also. But that was years ago. There is nothing we can do now."

Estemar paused for a moment. His sunken face slowly moved to a smile. "I said my power over this continent of Vinor has returned." He paused again. "Yes, I can send someone back to that time. Not to kill Mephiston. Not this time. His wife must not die."

The walls of Ald Satha stood resolute for a grueling year, besieged by relentless foes whose shadows loomed ever closer. Hunger gnawed at the spirits of its people, their faces gaunt and eyes hollow from the unyielding blockade. Whispers of surrender filled the air, but it was Estemar, the city's steadfast guardian, who made the fateful decision. With a heavy heart, he commanded the gates to creak open, allowing the Krimkar hordes to flood in like a dark tide, their banners snapping in the wind as they seized control of the once-proud stronghold.

Amid the chaos of occupation, Estemar moved with calculated grace, slipping through hidden passages as the Krimkar's boots echoed through the streets. He left behind his tower, now encased in a shimmering barrier of arcane might, impervious to any who sought to breach its defenses. His departure was a silent vow, a thread of hope woven into the fabric of despair, as he vanished into the night, leaving the invaders to claim their hollow victory.

Estemar arrived at Riverhold under the cloak of dawn, the city's port bustling with the aftermath of conquest. He settled by the water's edge, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky. There, he waited patiently, his thoughts a tempest of anticipation and resolve, for the last beacon of salvation to emerge from the waves—a final chance to turn the tide against the encroaching darkness.

The dire tidings of the Krimkar's full muster reached Storm and Brom JanCastle like a harbinger of doom, compelling them to scan the horizons for any sign of Estemar, the elusive wizard whose aid they had counted upon. But the mage remained absent, his promised arrival a cruel illusion. Panic gripped the populace of JanCastle; some fled in haste toward the port, seeking escape by sea, while the majority huddled within the city's fortifications, their hopes dwindling with each passing hour.

Beyond the wooded hills, plumes of fire and smoke betrayed the Krimkar's inexorable advance, their hordes visible at the forest's edge, poised just beyond the reach of Riverhold's archers. Thunder cracked across the heavens, and lightning illuminated the tempest as a deluge unleashed its fury, a hurricane crashing ashore to batter the land. For days, the storm raged, a natural bulwark that stymied the invaders' progress and kindled a spark of defiance in the defenders' hearts.

Yet the gale subsided, and the valiant knights of JanCastle sallied forth from the gates, charging into the enemy ranks with reckless abandon, their blades carving swaths through the foe. In that fleeting surge, victory tantalized them, a mirage of triumph. But then Kram emerged, his sword a scythe of slaughter, hewing through the knights without respite. Confronting Brom face-to-face, he sheathed his blade and drew a dagger, swiftly severing the prince's head and casting it over the walls like a grisly trophy. The Krimkar onslaught resumed unabated, sparing none in their path of carnage, until only the king endured. As Kram's fatal stroke descended, Storm vanished in a blinding flash, leaving JanCastle to its final, irrevocable end.

Tempest, Vulgena, Geira, Ignis, and Erebus travel up the island and defeat the monster that was terrorizing the village. They continue on their journey and arrive at Silvereth where they hire a caravan to take the supplies to Bog’s Hollow. On the way they have to cross wide plains that is closed to travel because of a young dragon that has taken up residence in the area. They keep the caravan stationed at a small town while they hunt the dragon. They find and kill the dragon. However, Tempest, Vulgena, and Erebus are deeply injured. They remain at the small town for a month recovering while the caravan continues to Bog's Hollow.

After a month, the five of them turn south, abandon the caravan, and seek for Mephiston in the dungeon of Hakurro in the Dark Woods. They find that the village of Fray Wall still stands and the people are alive, but the town is rules ruthlessly by the Krimkar. They look for weeks and almost give up hope before finally finding the entrance to the dungeon.

They battle through the elemental constructs of Mephiston's magic, navigating five levels down the dungeon over the course of weeks, resting in Fray Wall in between delves. They finally confront Mephiston himself in his chamber. The battle rages, Erebus dies, Tempest and Ignis are brought to the edge of death, and Vulgena sticks her dagger in the back of Mephiston.

Within the ethereal Veil, where Estemar's towering spire bridged the mundane world and the realm of spirits, Tempest, Vulgena, Geira, Ignis, and Erebus sought counsel from the ancient wizard. He implored them to forsake King Storm's directives, urging them instead to sail northward and confront Mephiston, the sorcerer whose dark influence threatened to engulf the land.

Wrestling with the discord of competing visions, the group ultimately heeded Estemar's wisdom, embarking on a grand merchant vessel bound for the perilous north. Weeks of arduous voyaging tested their resolve until a ferocious storm assailed their ship, shattering masts and hull alike. Adrift amid the vast, unforgiving sea with the beleaguered crew, currents bore them to a rugged, mountainous island, where they discovered a sheltered harbor and a modest village clinging to the shore.

As repairs to their vessel commenced, they pledged aid to the local chief, whose people suffered nightly assaults from a monstrous terror. Laying traps and vigilantly awaiting the beast's return, they soon discerned that the creature dwelled higher upon the treacherous slopes, compelling them to ascend the mountain in pursuit of the lurking menace.

Tempest, Vulgena, and Geira returned to Eylandar’s Tower after days on patrol. A letter from Storm awaited them, instructing them to hire a ship and seek out the storm giants. Their magic, he hoped, would allow them to speak with Estemar of Ald Satha, who might have a plan to deal with the Krimkar.

At the harbor, Ignis assisted a ship docking and spoke with its captain, Kelefan Boglin, who claimed he had grown rich fighting in an arena called The Colonnade. The arena, he said, was owned by a dwarf named Drod and was located in Bog’s Hollow, far to the north.

Meanwhile, Erebus met with Eidelon at the Veiled Hearth. Eidelon needed a ship to transport valuable goods north before moving them inland to Bog’s Hollow. The job would take months, but the reward was worth it—20% of the profit, amounting to 10,000 coin, split among those Erebus recruited. The cargo—1,000 pounds of rare spices and foods from Nek-Terabi—would be traded for 5,000 coin and 1,000 weapons and pieces of armor, which needed to be brought back. A caravan of a dozen large carts would be required for the inland journey.

After their conversation, Erebus left the hall, heading for the north tower to find Tempest and the others. Near the exit, a cloaked figure bumped into him. Before he could react, another attacker struck from behind with a dagger.

At the same time, Ignis, on his way to the Veiled Hearth to rest, found himself surrounded by two assassins. Elsewhere, Tempest, Vulgena, and Geira were ambushed by three ruffians.

The fights were quick but bloody. Once the attackers were dealt with, the five met in a private room at the Veiled Hearth. They agreed to sail north with a large and a small ship. One would return with news from Estemar while the rest continued with the shipment. Tempest and Ignis were particularly eager to find Drod.

The next day, they set sail for the storm giants. The winds eventually died, and a cold fog rolled in over still waters. From the mist, an ocean demon emerged, its presence summoning crawling creatures onto the ship. A tentacled beast hauled itself aboard, devouring several crew members. As battle broke out, the demon cast spells while the beast lashed out. Vulgena was seized by a tentacle but hacked it off, leaping onto the creature’s head and driving her sword through it. The beast collapsed, and the ocean demon vanished into the sea.

Upon reaching the storm giants, they found no help. However, the giants allowed them passage into the Veil—a dreamlike realm where distance and time were warped. Within the Veil, they were attacked by the ghosts of slain Krimkar and Jancastle soldiers.

In the months since the people of JanCastle fled into the south, the war has continued. Supplies have been desperately low, the army is often malnourished, but the river gates in the mountains to the north have held fast against the attacks of the Krimkar. The winter has been mild, and JanCastle has established trade with the people of Nek-Terabi in the south, who have plentiful food even in the winter months.

Since helping fend off the giant attacks, Ignis and Erebus have been living at the Veiled Hearth and working the docks for Eidelon, and have even sailed into Nek-Terabi at times trading what little wealth of JanCastle has left for food and supplies. The relationship between Storm and Eidelon is tenuous. Storm knows he needs Eidelon's expertise to provide supplies for JanCastle. Eidelon knows he needs Storm to make a profit, but can ultimately abandon JanCastle if it comes to that.

Meanwhile, Tempest, Vulgena, and Geira have been leading patrols of the mountains east of Riverhold to ensure the Krimkar do not attack through the mountain passes. On the 9th of February, some four months since the battles with giants, the three of them return to Eylandar's Tower from a multi day patrol through the cold mountain passes. Upon arrival, they find a letter from Storm asking them to hire a ship and once again travel to the storm giants: This time in order to use the giant's magic to speak with the wizard Estemar of Ald Satha.