Legacy of Oblivion

Night had finally settled completely over the land, meaning the fire in Stonard was finally out. Arachne did not care about the calamity either way; the darkness simply pleased her.

She was riding hard through the swamp, heading away from the military outpost. The usual sounds of travel were muffled by the soft mud and she bent over her horse’s neck to avoid low hanging branches. Though she urged her demonic mount onward, it was not with a sense of urgency or panic, but one of steadfastness – her tasks would always be accomplished as long as she was diligent.

Earlier that evening, Caulbraen had sent her to find their missing companions and retrieve them. Locating them had been the easy part. Most of the missing party had indeed reached Stonard as they had intended, but never made it inside. Emberchill had been taken captive by a group who had set fire to the Stonard Inn and Sabe and Arcadi, in no condition to attempt a rescue, were, in fact, attempting a rescue. The only one missing was Thundrax, but she simply could not be bothered with him now; a new group had appeared and were pursuing Sabe and Arcadi. She did not know who this new group was, but found it curious that all of them were trolls. Though one of them was a hunter, they left a trail even a warlock could follow. Each group was unknowingly being pursued by another, and Arachne was playing the predator sneaking up on the rear.

As soon as they were away from Stonard, they had avoided the main road and cut west through the swamp. Despite the wild terrain, they were making good time. When the deep and clear imprints of domesticated mounts crossed the road that led south, she knew they would be heading to Deadwind Pass. Eventually the procession turned northwest, back toward the road, as if they intended to circle around by the old wooden bridge. She continued to follow, making sure to keep her unflagging demonic mount from gaining ground.

When she finally reached the road, she was treated to a surprise: The old bridge was no longer there. Debris had been scattered everywhere as if the Old Gods had struck the land in their wrath, trees were unearthed and scorched and large craters were embedded in the terrain. Native lifeforms of the swamp had been sacrificed in the assault and their innocent corpses littered the scape.

It was beautiful work. Unfortunately, Arachne had no time to admire the artistry. (more…)