A sudden and loud THUNDERCLAP made many look up to
the sky. And what they saw there was hard to describe. A great jet of black fumes and smoke reached up toward
the roof of Faerûn, briefly shrouding
the coast in darkness as it blocked out
the moon.
Selûne's tears pierced
the blanket of darkness and those of divine inclination would have felt a jolt of pain and misery. What's worse, under Selûne's faint light, those near burial sites and old battlefields would have witnessed
the immediate rise of
the dead; grasping desperately to any nearby weapons and marching toward civilised lands.
Mere minutes before all this, three robed individuals were seen entering that old mansion atop
the cliffs at
the Sea of Swords. Behind them an old but well braced door fell shut with a loud CLANG.
Just as
the pyre of black smoke dissipated, a whispering started to grow on
the wind. Unintelligible but foreboding. Many a hair stood up on many a neck as
the wind grew into a loud wail of despair...
The pain and misery on
the wind could almost be tasted - almost be touched. It was so rank and saturated that some fainted and gasped for air. Surely, something was very, very wrong.
