It is with no small amount of relief and trepidation that I commit these words to parchment, we have come to realise in the past few days how fortunate we have been, Atil and I, and we realise that the burden of our survival is hard to bear, indeed the memory of all those who fell in the name of the Shining Ones to aid our expedition weighs heavily upon me.
A Week has passed since we returned from the place known locally as An Mordros, we entered the region as a strong company of Paladins and Men at Arms along with Priests, scribes, servants and a Cartographer and his apprentice. The intention was to make contact with the denizens of the place and to offer them the light of the Shining Ones enlightenment and also to expand the knowledge that the Hegemony had of this previously sparsely explored area of Estacarr. I am that Cartographer, Philos of Spartha and my apprentice is my nephew Atil and we were retained by the Basileans to map An Mordros in as much detail as was possible.
We passed the macabre totems of the local tribes, most of which consisted of human Heads on posts but also heads of Orcs, Dwarfs, Ratkin and several unidentifiable skulls, that denote the borders of the lands that are claimed by these savage folk and pressed on towards the twin mountains we could see in the distance. As we travelled nearer, we could discern that the saddle of land between the Mountains was filled with mighty ruins of a great size. Almost as if a city of Giants had once existed there but now had left it fallen in a jumble of blocks and sagging walls.
As we travelled towards this ruin, there began a series of events which were to lead to the absolute ruin of the expedition, if we knew then what we know now I am certain Paladin Commander Bretheros would have about faced and retraced his steps with all despatch.
At night the summits of the twin mountains glowed with unearthly lights, tendrils of multicoloured hue drifting upwards to blank out the stars, winds howled through the camp and beasts were nervous and ill at ease. During the day dust storms blew up and patrols were unable to travel far from the main body for fear of losing sight of each other.
Then one night all the sentries vanished, not a trace could be found in the morning and the men became scared, even when all the sentries were doubled up, as two nights later all those men disappeared as well. The Paladins patrolled the lines and the Priests cast their divinations and psalms of protection, but it was to no avail as the camp guards disappeared the next two nights and only the iron discipline of the Basileans prevented a mutiny amongst the troops.
Then at the foot of the mountains we encountered another line of markers, great was the anger of the Basilean troops as these markers were no less than their vanished comrades, obviously brutishly tortured and killed before their heads being displayed as a warning to the survivors. Angered beyond reason the Basileans proceeded onwards into the pass that led up to the ruins above. It was there that the first doom befell them as a horde of bloodthirsty barbarian savages ambushed them in the narrow confines of the pass, showering rocks, arrows and axes down on them from above whilst their most heavily armoured warriors blocked the road ahead. The Basileans formed their armoured ranks and tried to push through, when this failed, they tried to retreat but by now the route back had been blocked by yet more Barbarian warriors. The barbarians’ axes cleaving through the ranks of the brave Holy soldiers whilst their fur and feather clad Shamans cast their dark magic which caused men to sicken and fall dead whilst at the same time invigorating the warriors close to the shaman. A great beast with long slashing claws and needle sharp fangs pushed its way through the masses of barbarians and struck the hapless Basileans, felling dozens at a time as it carved its way through the soldiers and on into the baggage train at the rear of the column. I was lucky and, with a small number of others, hid in a cleft in the rocks and was left behind by the battle. We watched in horror as the last of the soldiers succumbed to the assault of the savages. What followed was even more horrific to our battle numbed minds. As the victorious Barbarians stood panting and regaining their breath the corpses of the slain Basileans began to move, standing up again and recovering their weapons the Basilean expedition formed up into a semblance of their previous formation, the Barbarians, although momentarily shocked, had obviously encountered this phenomenon before and rushed to fetch fire, while their Shamans began their enchantments anew.
The reanimated Basileans continued to shamble back down the mountain path toward the plains below, howling barbarians on horseback, brandishing fiery torches chased after them and tried to strike them with the fire, however from the plains came a deep thrumming noise followed by a sound like the scream of a hundred banshees before a missile plummeted from the sky into the midst of the Barbarian Cavalry, shattering their lines and tumbling horses and men all around. Under cover of this confusion the dead Basilean soldiers reached the plains and were swallowed by the darkness.
During our return from the scene of this massacre, Atil and I continued to commit the landscape to memory but , between the hunting barbarians and the undead creatures haunting the plains we were unable to save any of our small band of survivors, eventually we gained the safety of a small border settlement and from thence to Priest Town, where I am bound to commit all to parchment, once this task is done we will take ship from Tyrsis and turn our backs on this accursed Land.
Philos the Sparthan concerning Bretheros’s failed expedition.
An Mordros.
The area of Estacarr known as An Mordros (land of Dark Mountains in Black Tongue) is a small outcropping of the mountains into the coastal plain. The area is little explored due to the savage Barbarians that live in the north of the region and the dread Necromancer that inhabits the ancient Burial grounds of the Barbarian Tribes to the South.
Both of these inhabitants discourage any casual exploration and any armed incursion has traditionally been met with a robust response. What little is known of the Region has been gleaned from ancient records and from the occasional half mad traveller that succeed in making it out of the region. Piecing together this information is the task of the Paladins and Priests from the Basilean enclave at Priest Town as it is their sworn task to bring the region under the benign influence of the Shining Ones.
From eyewitness accounts of the few survivors and the study of incredibly ancient texts the following information has been pieced together.
In antiquity the inhabitants of the area were a proud tribe of humans known as the Gallia, tall and straight of limb, fair of hair and blue eyed, these Men were renowned for their advanced skills in metallurgy and Stonemasonry, their city grew tall and strong in the mountain between two peaks, upon these peaks were established great Temples and places of learning for the scholars of the Gallia to study and ponder the questions of religion and philosophy. Many studied magic in order to advance their civilisation and created many wonders that benefitted the whole of the Gallia Tribe.
Strong were the Warriors of the Gallia and they rode on their chariots to protect their lands from the unwanted attentions of their neighbours. Eventually peace was established and a Golden Age blossomed in the city between the Peaks. Ever more ambitious buildings were raised until the whole area of the mountains had been shaped by the tireless toil of the Artisans of Gallia, bigger and more elaborate grew the tombs of the Chiefs and Lords of the Tribe. But as with any civilisation there were those that wanted more, amongst the Scholars that studied amongst the Gallia was one called Siberus. Unusual amongst his Kin he was dark haired and short of stature, pale from lack of sun and hunched from constant study he was often derided by his Kin for his looks and ways. This led to a deep resentment harboured by Siberus against those he felt were frivolous and vain. Siberus studied Magic and strove to improve his physical appearance by means of spells and potions. He delved ever more into the darker side of magic, becoming more and more withdrawn until he struck upon the ability to re-animate corpses. Siberus retired to the vast Necropolis at the foot of the Gallia’s Mountain city and continued his experiments, raising the former Chiefs and Warriors of the Gallia to do his bidding. Eventually he became too bold in his deprivations and the Tribal Council of Gallia discovered his activities. Horrified at the desecration of their ancestors tombs the Gallians drew up all of their strength of Arms and magic to expel Siberus from the Necropolis.
A mighty war erupted between the Armies of the Gallians and the corrupted Undead Legions of Siberus, but it was a war the Gallians could not win, as every one of their warriors that fell soon became a member of the enemies legions , only by burning their dead immediately could the Gallians prevent this and so their Scholar Mages were instructed to seek an answer.
Long did the Gallian Magic Users strive and all the time the Army of the Tribe shrank from attrition while Siberus’s army grew, at last the Mages discovered a spell of protection, a talisman that would prevent any more of their people becoming Hollow servants of Siberus. For a week they prepared their incantations and spells, readied the temples for the conduction of this most powerful enchantment. Finally all was ready and the Gallians gathered in their city, the ceremony was performed and a soft amber light bathed the city and its inhabitants , but something went awry in the rites, a wrong syllable and incorrect ingredient or a lapse of concentration, it is not known exactly what as no-one survived the destruction of the mountain top temple in an mighty blast that tumbled the city like childrens wooden blocks and killed many Gallians. The survivors discovered that the price of the spell did not end there, although none of Gallian Blood can be turned into undeath after their passing, they were also doomed to be of low intellect in successive generations. Never again would they boast amazing Architects and Philosophers , Scholars and diplomats and the fate of the Tribe was to devolve into savagery over successive Generations.
As for Siberus, he has used his arts to extend his life to an unnatural span. He collected the bodies of the slain Gallians and, although unable to reanimate them he used their Skeleton to create and obscene Dwelling for himself beyond the Necropolis of Gallia, the so called Tower of Bone. From this macabre fortress he sends out his undead minions to gather goods and Captives from all over Estacarr to keep his secret little empire supplied with arms and recruits for his evil plans. Unable to turn any of the Gallians to undeath he sends his Legions out to find and Capture (if possible) or kill anyone they encounter in the vicinity of the Tower.
Over the Years the Gallians have succumbed to the curse laid on them by the failed spell, although capable of some basic tasks they are mostly savage barbarians whose whole society is geared for war and they instinctively protect their land and the ruins of their former city using crude weapons and armour that they collect from their victims or manage to maintain themselves with vestigial knowledge, they can no longer use the Chariots of their forebears and so have become mostly infantry with a small number of horsemen riding the descendants of the beasts originally bred to pull Chariots. With the reduction in their intellect and their reliance on weapons prowess and strength the mightiest of the Gallians have developed impressive physiques as they interbreed for the attributes of a warrior, resulting in some very impressive specimens indeed.
Siberus remains a threat to all with his undead legions and overweening ambition and it is only a matter of time before he casts his greedy eyes towards his new neighbours.
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