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A look of horror washes over Duncan McClintock as you listen to his tale.
Twas follow'in a new mithril vein, when our clansmen stumbled across the abandoned remains of an underground city, one that's been lost to the ages. It was the call of mithril beckon'd us, that made us ignore what fears and doubts we had. 'Imagine our great halls resounding with a new forged mithril throne' they said... but instead it marked our doom.
In ye center of the abandoned city, twas an altar, dark from the blood of sacrifices. A thick layer of dust covered everything. 'I remember it as it twas yesterday' Duncan says painfully reliving the past. The altar imbued with dark carvings and arcane writing had a crest of a slender hand adorned in jewels. Me bro'thr, well he started to pry the rings off of the crest. 'Looked valuable' he said... as he pulled at the biggest ring, encrusted with five blood red rubies. Well i'm no craftsman, but ye rings were not forged by dwarven or gnomish hands. 'Let's leave this cursed place' I told him, but he would have none of it. As soon as he was able to pry the golden ring off the altar shattered apart. 'It's wirth alone will buy us a new throne.' he said, looking at the ring.
"Aey, and that be the last words me bro'thr said." *tears welling up* as Duncan reluctantly continues haunted by the memory... "Don't you see" *eyes look right at you* "we awoke something evil within the depths of the abandoned city." *shaking with rage* We tried to run, but me bro'thr... didn't move, the ring had some type of hold on him. Bone hands erupted from the ground and grabbed us as we ran for the fissure exit 'Grimkor' I yelled out, but me bro'thr just stood there his eyes glazed over. Me own clansmen half pushing, half dragging me out of the city towards the fissure exit. Turning around, I got a glimpse of the skeletal mass gathering round me bro'thr, dragging him away, while the city erupted in a eerie purple light.
Three moons later, we continued to lose more and more clansmen fighting the horde of undead. For, each one of us that died in battle, would slowly come back cursed. "How can one fight against ye own dead bro'thr, or mo'thr even?" *trembles in rage* "The ring cursed him, he be no more but a husk of what he used to be. He be corrupted by the cursed ring, leading the undead army."
We fled our homelands that night, the few of us that survived... fled westward towards the haven of Sundren.
I've searched various libraries and temples, seeking lost tombs and books on the abandoned city, the crest, and the ring, but me search has ended up in dead ends. "I've got to find a way to break the curse." cries out Duncan.
"And that's why I've come to ye. To help me defeat Grimkor's undead horde and to put me bro'thr to rest."
Twas follow'in a new mithril vein, when our clansmen stumbled across the abandoned remains of an underground city, one that's been lost to the ages. It was the call of mithril beckon'd us, that made us ignore what fears and doubts we had. 'Imagine our great halls resounding with a new forged mithril throne' they said... but instead it marked our doom.
In ye center of the abandoned city, twas an altar, dark from the blood of sacrifices. A thick layer of dust covered everything. 'I remember it as it twas yesterday' Duncan says painfully reliving the past. The altar imbued with dark carvings and arcane writing had a crest of a slender hand adorned in jewels. Me bro'thr, well he started to pry the rings off of the crest. 'Looked valuable' he said... as he pulled at the biggest ring, encrusted with five blood red rubies. Well i'm no craftsman, but ye rings were not forged by dwarven or gnomish hands. 'Let's leave this cursed place' I told him, but he would have none of it. As soon as he was able to pry the golden ring off the altar shattered apart. 'It's wirth alone will buy us a new throne.' he said, looking at the ring.
"Aey, and that be the last words me bro'thr said." *tears welling up* as Duncan reluctantly continues haunted by the memory... "Don't you see" *eyes look right at you* "we awoke something evil within the depths of the abandoned city." *shaking with rage* We tried to run, but me bro'thr... didn't move, the ring had some type of hold on him. Bone hands erupted from the ground and grabbed us as we ran for the fissure exit 'Grimkor' I yelled out, but me bro'thr just stood there his eyes glazed over. Me own clansmen half pushing, half dragging me out of the city towards the fissure exit. Turning around, I got a glimpse of the skeletal mass gathering round me bro'thr, dragging him away, while the city erupted in a eerie purple light.
Three moons later, we continued to lose more and more clansmen fighting the horde of undead. For, each one of us that died in battle, would slowly come back cursed. "How can one fight against ye own dead bro'thr, or mo'thr even?" *trembles in rage* "The ring cursed him, he be no more but a husk of what he used to be. He be corrupted by the cursed ring, leading the undead army."
We fled our homelands that night, the few of us that survived... fled westward towards the haven of Sundren.
I've searched various libraries and temples, seeking lost tombs and books on the abandoned city, the crest, and the ring, but me search has ended up in dead ends. "I've got to find a way to break the curse." cries out Duncan.
"And that's why I've come to ye. To help me defeat Grimkor's undead horde and to put me bro'thr to rest."