Echoing shouts of orcs were heard past Soubar. Fort Prominence was left overtaken by a group of orcs raising their flags of Gruumsh. The scene could be witnessed for a mile or so. Large pillars of billowing crimson smoke rose over the horizon, the history of the fort was erased in a ritualistic bon fire. Shouts and howls of orcs could be heard for the days after the fort's take over. Hanging from outside the walls are the bodies of inhabitants who wandered in, and found orcs before they found a way out. The fort was taken by the orcs. May Gruumsh's single eye be upon his mightiest beasts.
DM Ink
“Kindly let me help you or you will drown,” said the monkey putting the fish safely up a tree. -Alan Watts
The past tendays have seen much activity within the limits of Soubar, too much activity, some would say. This lawless settlement only had one law - to not fight in the market.
Time has proven that even a single law is more structure than Soubar wants. So, the night comes to take it down. A place where anyone can do whatever they want, and power reigns supreme. Gang leaders and Mag herself sit atop the chain, but they hardly care what the lowly traveler does. Fight anywhere, kill those that slight you, there is no structure that protects those that can't either protect themselves, or pay someone to do it.
Now, this night at the Winding Way, the first drink is free
It was a night filled with terror, gnashing teeth and boundless carnage. Daemonic entities had spilled forth in all directions from the Trielta Hills, terrorizing the roads, the hills, the wildlife and whatever they managed to come across in their aimless and chaotic rampage.
Ruined caravans and the unfortunate remains of those unable to fend off such attackers became a common sight after the night had ended. The Hellriders were seen setting out in force, doubling their patrols, and came into contact with scattered Tanar'ri more often than not.
DM Ink :
While a few of the Hellrider patrols have gone missing, those that return report what they've seen in some of their surrounding smaller hamlets, in particular the hamlet of Duskroot. Rumors circulate that villagers have been disappearing at night. It began with the arrival of a dense fog outreaching from the local forest. One that made it difficult to see even in the moon's light. The hunters who went past the hamlet's wooden gates in the night came back shivering unable to speak, and considered themselves the lucky ones.
The Hellriders reported it was difficult to gather any leads as those that know it best, aren't willing to speak on it. Some of the outsiders passing through say it's because those that speak of it disappear just a few days after. Most of them are taken with no sign of struggle. Just cold beddings and unanswered prayers. At night, the most of the villages in the region go quiet with several families huddling together to keep an eye on one another. Then by day, the outlook isnt any better for those who go past the village where the flies gather.
For those that had braved past the village, animals laid slaughtered and uneaten. Their twisted and mangled corpses left by something that killed for the joy of it. Witnesses speak of a swirling demonic creatures traveling in pillars of fire. They move and search through the woods, tearing apart any travelers in their path. Their screams of terror silenced quickly silenced.
Few have some to explain these frequent sights, but it all seemed to begin after reports came in of a summoning site in the Trielta hills.
Some months after the Lord's Alliance set forth the ban against the trading company of Tarrenfeldt & Sons that would prevent them from operating within their territories, the organization in question seemed to nigh effortlessly resituate themselves within the territories of another host - the Zhentarim. Rumors claimed of their new headquarters slowly manifesting within the Sunset Mountains, close to the watchful eyes within Darkhold.
The ever jovial director of the company, Ambrosius Tarrenfeldt, was reportedly seen by commonfolk as he was with a group of his employees on their way down from the Sunset Mountains - claiming in vague words that a new era of prosperity was at hand.
Travelers at the Winding Waters river after the 4th Marpenoth 1361 DR were shocked. They had expected a small village, warm beds and clean baths. A chance to stay for a while, to relax, before they continued on their treck. What greeted them instead were scorched ruins, blackened wood. Charred corpses roamed the buildings, others had been cut down.
Within the ruins, a armored figure was seen, dragging bodies, stained with ashes, digging graves. Most peculiar, the armored figure warned anyone to not cross the bridge. . . not that everyone listened.
Whatever had happened here, it had been a bloodbath.
