Ah, dear readers, as the blessed Morninglord spread his crepuscular rays upon the beleaguered town of Nightstone, a new day dawned, bringing with it a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of despair. Among the brave souls who survived the recent onslaught: the Delfryndel family, proud millers, mourned the death of one of their own, Olaf, lost to the insatiable hunger of their captors; The Hulvaarns, stalwart root farmers, grieved for their patriarch, Nestor, felled by the merciless bombardment of the town. Young mistress Yondra and master Sarvin, two plump human children from the Nesper family, whose meaty older sister, Sylda, and chunky parents had been the first prisoners devoured; The Osstras, a couple of diligent uphill gardeners, and their nephew Broland, who lost his wheat-farming mother and grandmother to the ravenous goblins. Other survivors included the tieflings Grin Agganor and his mother Destiny, the town midwife; the newly widowed halfling Taela Summerhawk, and her four children, their father crushed by a boulder in the aerial attack on Nightstone; and in the midst of it all, Morak Ur’gray, the stalwart dwarven innkeeper, a beacon of strength and guidance, his steady presence a source of comfort in the face of tragedy.
Morak, with solemn urgency, implored our valiant heroes to carry sad tidings to three farflung kinfolk of the recently fallen. Markham Southwell, who lost his sister, was off in the Frozenfar, more than six hundred miles away, in Bryn Shander. Alaestra Ulgar, ex-wife of the ex-Lionshield Coster manager, Darthag, could be found in Triboar, three hundred miles north, via the Long Road. Miros Xelbryn, son of the town recordkeepers, nestled in the peaceful sanctuary of Goldenfields, a little over a hundred miles up the Dessarin River. Morak noted that Miros might wish to keep Skrillex, his parents’ beloved tressym.
After deliberating on the options for a moment, our valiant band headed out west overland, towards the Trade Way, with Goldenfields their intended destination. But hark, my eager readers! From the heavens above descended a marvelous sight to dazzle even the most jaded eye: an enormous tower, perched upon billowy clouds, its majestic form reaching skyward like a titan of old. Its spire, reminiscent of a wizard’s pointy hat, cast a spell of wonder on all who gazed upon it. As the tower drew nearer, a marvel unfolded before our dumbfounded heroes: a staircase, fashioned from ethereal clouds, unfurled beneath the towering structure, descending gracefully towards them like a celestial pathway forged by the very hands of gods themselves.
Our dauntless heroes, those paragons of virtue and valor, ascended the celestial staircase. The steps, seemingly endless, spiraled upward into the firmament, challenging both body and spirit. Yet onward they climbed, undeterred by the vast expanse of sky above and the world dwindling to mere whispers below. At long last, they reached the summit, a snowy expanse that kissed the base of a towering edifice, its grandeur veiled by a curtain of azure, as if the sky itself had draped its colors over the doorway to greet them. With hearts both eager and wary, our intrepid adventurers passed through this sapphire veil and into the confines of a vast hexagonal chamber, the scale of which no mere human architect could conceive.
There, amidst the grandeur of his airy domain, stood Zephyros McCloud, a friendly cloud giant whose presence was as commanding as it was gentle. With a voice that resonated like the soft rumble of distant thunder, he greeted them warmly, his words carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. He spoke of visions granted by extra-planar entities, mysterious forces that had guided him to this precise moment to intersect with their fates. Zephyros revealed the turmoil within the ranks of giantkind, an upheaval known as The Ordning, which had cast long-standing hierarchies into question and stirred giants across the realms into actions both noble and nefarious. Compelled by these esoteric advisements, he believed that these brave adventurers before him were destined to play a crucial role in the unfolding saga.
As our heroes recounted the tragic plight of Nightstone and their pressing mission to Goldenfields, the giant, moved by their tale and the threads of fate that seemed to weave their destinies together, offered a boon. With grand gestures befitting his stature, he proposed to transport them aboard his magical tower, ensuring their swift passage across the vast landscapes that lay between them and their goal. Thus, they settled into the heart of the cloud tower, now a vessel soaring through the skies over the ancient and enigmatic Ardeep Forest. This vast woodland, a verdant realm steeped in legend and shadow, lay like a green jewel set upon the bosom of Faerûn. The Ardeep, a forest of secrets, whispered tales of lost civilizations and mystical creatures dwelling within its leafy confines. From their vantage point high above, our heroes could see the sunlight dappling through the dense canopy, casting mottled shadows that danced upon the forest floor. Birds of splendid plumage took flight suddenly, startled by the shadow of the tower crossing over their secluded havens. Below, the remnants of forgotten elven ruins peeked through the foliage, their stones cloaked in moss and ivy, hinting at the ancient glories that once graced these woods.
As night fell, the tower floated gently above the whispering treetops, the stars blinking into existence one by one in the clear sky. Our heroes, ensconced in the warmth of McCloud’s hospitality, felt a mixture of awe and anticipation. Each star seemed to promise new adventures, each whisper of the wind a call to unknown futures. Rest well, for the morrow holds yet more wonders to behold!
chronicles 