Change is in the air...
Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2003 10:50 am
Winter Approaches….
And the ground begins to crunch with morning frost. A wet wind blows from the west, carrying with it traces of snow, and the thick scent of blood. Strange disappearances mark the lives of many families in the homesteads surrounding Haven. The trees stir with the passing of mysterious creatures, never seen before by the living of Phantera, and gruesome haunts stalk the midnight hours.
Arcane chants fill the village, hour after hour as Elder Quetzl strives to erect wards strong enough to repel the creatures from beyond the grave. Warriors stand guard nightly, and many peasants have removed their families to the great hall of the inn for safety in the darkness. The peasant village is nearly deserted after darkness falls, and strong shutters of hardened wood are drawn over the windows of each building.
The forges ring by day, eating up iron reserves in a frantic attempt to supply the needed spears, swords, and armor to repel the nightly invasions. Meanwhile the horrific explosions of smoke and light each night herald the arrival of creatures no longer native to Phantera, creatures of thick scale and long fang, or shaggy beasts still dripping ice and snow. Others have appeared as well, those bearing metal wands that spew fire and thunder.
Yet Haven struggles on. Its spirit indomitable before this onslaught, its courageous defenders yet hold the village gates, and protect the few standing buildings against all comers. With spell and steel the brave few of many races has united to save this vestige of civilization. Refugees from the battered world continue to drift in, swelling the ranks of the free for each man that falls in their defense.
Perhaps hope lingers yet, for rumors of a remedy to these ill winds abound. In the village, peasants speak of a bright metal talisman, forged under sorcery being devised by the brave adventurers to set right the timestream.
However, darkness has great plans to, and many stir eager to use this era of uncertainty to their own advantage. Who knows what secrets are waiting to be revealed in the mysteries of other ages. Who knows what good or ill will come in the days to follow.
In Final Haven the future of a world rests on the shoulders of a brave and tired few. May they preserve the life and liberty of many.
- Maric Leafsinger
Guthrie Talespinner, visitor and peddler to the Village of Haven, Fall 1053
And the ground begins to crunch with morning frost. A wet wind blows from the west, carrying with it traces of snow, and the thick scent of blood. Strange disappearances mark the lives of many families in the homesteads surrounding Haven. The trees stir with the passing of mysterious creatures, never seen before by the living of Phantera, and gruesome haunts stalk the midnight hours.
Arcane chants fill the village, hour after hour as Elder Quetzl strives to erect wards strong enough to repel the creatures from beyond the grave. Warriors stand guard nightly, and many peasants have removed their families to the great hall of the inn for safety in the darkness. The peasant village is nearly deserted after darkness falls, and strong shutters of hardened wood are drawn over the windows of each building.
The forges ring by day, eating up iron reserves in a frantic attempt to supply the needed spears, swords, and armor to repel the nightly invasions. Meanwhile the horrific explosions of smoke and light each night herald the arrival of creatures no longer native to Phantera, creatures of thick scale and long fang, or shaggy beasts still dripping ice and snow. Others have appeared as well, those bearing metal wands that spew fire and thunder.
Yet Haven struggles on. Its spirit indomitable before this onslaught, its courageous defenders yet hold the village gates, and protect the few standing buildings against all comers. With spell and steel the brave few of many races has united to save this vestige of civilization. Refugees from the battered world continue to drift in, swelling the ranks of the free for each man that falls in their defense.
Perhaps hope lingers yet, for rumors of a remedy to these ill winds abound. In the village, peasants speak of a bright metal talisman, forged under sorcery being devised by the brave adventurers to set right the timestream.
However, darkness has great plans to, and many stir eager to use this era of uncertainty to their own advantage. Who knows what secrets are waiting to be revealed in the mysteries of other ages. Who knows what good or ill will come in the days to follow.
In Final Haven the future of a world rests on the shoulders of a brave and tired few. May they preserve the life and liberty of many.
- Maric Leafsinger
Guthrie Talespinner, visitor and peddler to the Village of Haven, Fall 1053