Continued from "A Dream of Djinni."
This grand old district lies at the heart of the kingdom, on the west bank of Crystal Lake. It was the original seat of Aran monarchy, dating back to the time of the Archmage Ar himself, until this first dynasty ended for lack of an heir. An unfortunate punitive foray into ogre lands resulted in the sole successor passing away. The last words of Dalberron the Skald tell the story:
“Out of the mist, one fateful winter dawn, the devourers appeared. Filled with hatred and feral bloodlust, the deathly tide swarmed the village. Not a soul among town and gown, neither cattle nor poultry, dog, cat, wall, or barrel were spared. The demons fled as fast as they’d come, leaving death and desolation in their wake. Good Prince Teliddes on his heavenly warship raced by the plume of smoke rising high, and bravely gave chase. Standing at the prow, he motioned the Nashi and the Ostro to join the hunt.
“Together with the Shamal, they tore apart the fleeing mob, piercing ogrish flesh with heavy javelins or riving their bodies asunder with sizzling bolts. Many a wondrous rod was depleted and replaced as the merciless punishment was wreaked upon the demons. Despite their losses, there was always one to turn and stare defiantly at the prince while its brood sank deeper into the woods. The game went on until their leader, a horrid giant covered in blood and dangling upon its misshapen body the severed heads of once-fair maidens, stood its ground and challenged the prince. It was then, when Aran justice at last was dispensed high from the Shamal’s deck, that the unthinkable happened. A powerful device, hot with wokani magic, shot a mighty harpoon from the mouth of the demons’ hideout. It was a trap.
Lower Griffon District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex |
“Out of the mist, one fateful winter dawn, the devourers appeared. Filled with hatred and feral bloodlust, the deathly tide swarmed the village. Not a soul among town and gown, neither cattle nor poultry, dog, cat, wall, or barrel were spared. The demons fled as fast as they’d come, leaving death and desolation in their wake. Good Prince Teliddes on his heavenly warship raced by the plume of smoke rising high, and bravely gave chase. Standing at the prow, he motioned the Nashi and the Ostro to join the hunt.
“Together with the Shamal, they tore apart the fleeing mob, piercing ogrish flesh with heavy javelins or riving their bodies asunder with sizzling bolts. Many a wondrous rod was depleted and replaced as the merciless punishment was wreaked upon the demons. Despite their losses, there was always one to turn and stare defiantly at the prince while its brood sank deeper into the woods. The game went on until their leader, a horrid giant covered in blood and dangling upon its misshapen body the severed heads of once-fair maidens, stood its ground and challenged the prince. It was then, when Aran justice at last was dispensed high from the Shamal’s deck, that the unthinkable happened. A powerful device, hot with wokani magic, shot a mighty harpoon from the mouth of the demons’ hideout. It was a trap.