Snippet #1812856

No more than a day ago, you had been summoned at the behest of the goodly mage of the North. He entreated upon each of you a task, though for some it was of more than circumstance that they become involved. He had been known to many as the Hooded One, a most reclusive yet kind man of great power and knowledge. His request was simple enough, his last words echoing in all of your heads as you journeyed the road east towards Wildsgate: "Go to the frontier and seek out the cause of the curse at Wildsgate."

The hot sun beats down on the rutted road, filling your mouth with dust and bringing a sweat to your brow. North, across the river Saedre, the cool, shaded forests call to you seductively. And yet every rider you’ve met on this forsaken highway has declared the forests to be cursed and filled with unholy monsters and man-beasts.

“The Wilds,” the riders name the forests with hushed whispers. Home to ghosts and worse!

Ahead, you spot an ox-drawn wagon led by a sunweathered farmer. You raise your hands in salute, and notice with relief that a passing cloud has offered you a moment’s respite from the sun.

The farmer screams in terror, and you realize that what you mistook for a cloud is a trio of enormous bats. Their riders shriek war cries as they dive out of the sun!