DM Rumors of Darkhold

[DM Ink]

DM Rumors of Darkhold

[DM Ink]

A Familiar Sting

In the early hours of the morning, those of Darkhold Vale wake up to a grizzly sight. Reports of a purple and black smoke had seemly come to fruition as the fields lay littered with the carcasses of emaciated livestock. Farmers report sounds throughout the night. Some say they heard a struggle followed by the wet cracking of bones and a deafening silence. While most of the village attempts to gather their heads, the few brave enough to check find the same otherworldly smoke faintly drifting through the mouth and nostrils of the latest victims.

A smaller group of Zhentarim return from the forests later that afternoon. While only few are previewed to the extent of the report, there are rumors in the vale circulating that some of them didn't return. Something about goblins and kobolds attacking, but it didn't seem right. Many of the vale find this word of mouth for what it is, simply rumors. What kobold or goblin could take out a trained soldier of the Zhentarim.

[DM Ink]

In Preparation

In the dead of night torches sputtered and flickered against the cold mountain walls of Darkhold. An important arrival had been rumored. The boots of the Black Network's soldiers could be heard echoing through the keep as they took their places along the ramparts in anticipation. While the name was left unsaid, it was clear that their expected and honored guest left many of the inhabitants with a measure of trepidation. From the dark clad soldiers to the residents of the Vale, flags were unfurled with the sigil of the Zhentarim in waiting. His arrival would come soon, his presence would be undeniable.

[DM Verjigorm]

Upon the 25th of Marpenoth, during the earliest hours of the morning, denizens of the Darkhold Vale drowsily looked out their windows to witness a commotion taking place in their village. Though none dared exit to investigate, what was seen was clear enough.

Great numbers of Zhentilar and Stormwatch alike rushed through the slumbering town with a furious purpose. As they reached a section of the village where recently established warehouses had been built, they surrounded them entirely before breaching inside. In a matter of minutes, long rows of mercenaries started stumbling out with bags set over their heads, their wrists manacled - each of them roughly pushed into a convoy of wagons.

Sharpeyed witnesses swore that a number of bodies had been carried out last of all from the warehouses, a sign that there had been at least some resistance within.

After bodies and prisoners alike had been secured, the convoy of wagons set off with haste to return to Darkhold, with a number of tightlipped Zhentilar remaining behind to provide tight security over the raided buildings.

The populace of the village knew better than to ask questions and merely steered well clear from the disturbance.

[Image by wert23]

[DM Ink]

May the Night Itself Serve His Reign

Upon the visit of the Lord of Zhentil Keep, a quiet ceremony took place in the throne room. The soldiers lined up shoulder to shoulder as the former Lord Regent stood formally beside an imposing knight with a metallic skull shaped helmet. The room was said to have been silent, only the crackling fires and distant sounds of the storms outside could be heard. When Manshoon spoke his will was clear. A new Lord Castellan now claimed the throne of Darkhold. Gone are the days of the former Dread Lady, may Lord Castellan Zerros reign and usher in a new era.

[DM Faith]

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THE GAUNTLET

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The Pereghost had made his move. Krauzer Tzarkov had been sentenced to a gauntlet, death at the hands of his former comrades. Determined, Krauzer walked between the rows of the Zhentarim, towards Zerros Ozmir. With each step, blade and sharp tip cut deep into his flesh, spilling his liveblood on the cold stone. He was struck down by the Lord Castellan himself, succumbing to his wounds.
But he would not find eternal rest at his deities place. A Zhentarim Skymage, called by the Pereghost, trapped the soul of the fallen inside a black gem. He would not rise again, but for eternity wander inside the prisms of his prison, slowly succumbing to madness.

The Pereghost was not done. After the gauntlet, on his order, the statue of Selengil Harkonis was toppled, crashing into the courtyard and shattering to pieces.

The Skymage returned to his duties, circling the skies, before flying eastwards again.