When time comes for us……there is only one outcome to this calamity in life. Death. The people of Faerun have lived their lives in a cloudy haze for eons. knowing that one day all their dreams and hopes would be shattered. For eons, mighty heroes stride across the land of Faerun, forging new legends with their strivings and their triumphs. Stalwart shield dwarf warriors battle against the blood-maddened orc hordes of the North. Sun elf mages from distant Evermeet study the secret arts of elven High Magic. Quick-witted Calishite rogues roam the alleyways and bazaars of fantastic cities. The opportunities for adventure are virtually limitless.

Preston stood astounded, looking out over the Shadow Sea – his Master had been telling him the truth. The cavern opened up to infinity, stalactite pillars the size of castle towers reached down from the darkness above, touching the endless black mirror of shadowy sea. Wisps of shadows played over the mirror like black surface, like wraiths doing a dance macabre over a polished black dance floor. He kneeled down on the cavern floor and started to reach down to touch the black water, but stopped. Even without touching it he could feel the cold. An unnatural cold, was spreading up his arm, pouring like icy water up his veins, replacing his warm blood with the ice of the grave. He stood up again and faced the underground cavern, looking out over the Sea of Shadows. “O Master, Lord of Blood, your humble servant bows to your infinite wisdom. I now see what I have to do. Your tool is ready.” Preston bowed in silence. His masters whispering voice had been telling him the truth. The sealed shadow rift in Winterhaven, was of unimportance if he could flood the gates to the Sea of Shadows. Its breached walls would bring a flood of shadow water over the world of the living, pouring out like leprosy over the Nentir Vale, bringing in its wake darkness, blood and unlife like what had never been seen before. And in its center – Preston – Skull Lord of Orcus, Slayer of the Living, Master of the Undead Legions, Fist of the Demonic Horde…He laughed out loud and his voice echoed across the immense shadow water, and was magnified with a thousand voices, answering to his prayers, carrying back a chorus of shadow voices from the Land of the Dead. An unstoppable echo that grew, until Preston stopped, scarred of what it would do to him. Yes, he would be his Masters willing tool in this. The rewards that would come in its wake would be endless. He looked out over the narrow bridges that spanned between the stalagmites and stalactites of the immense cavern. There they stood in silence, the bronze wardens – minotauric statues of resolve. Only he knew their real purpose. Only he would call the ritual that would awaken them to their assigned task. He had much to do, but first some of his masters in the Mages of Saruun needed to be eliminated. He spoke the Word of Shadows his Master had provided him. The shadows started to gather across the Sea of Shadows. Wraiths like ghosts of unlife, coming at their master’s call. They would serve well for the task they would be given. The Mages of Saruun would fall, and along with them – the living world.

 

Many people in the lands of Faerun have tried to stop Preston since his coming to this country many years ago. He fights with many undead, and commands them at will. When he leaves a village, he leaves with a larger hoard of undead than he started with. The guardians of the realms have come together to stop his tyrannical barrage. Preston has been making his way towards the Sacred Gates in the Elkazar hills. These Sacred Gates have been said to hold the doors to purgatory, and the legendary “nine layers of Hell”. There is a group of survivors that have made a new fortress to fend against the Undead army. There are many people on BOTH sides of the fortress trying to either get in, or keep the Undead army out. The fortress is deep in the Elkazar hills, and the borders are protected by the Guardians of the Elves. There are many more protectors of the remaining peoples in the land of Faerun.

In this one fortress there are a mass of races, and classes working together instead of fighting each other to keep themselves free from the undead disease that has plagued the lands of their forefathers. The many creatures, and legendary creatures of these lands have succumbed to the plague, and have turned undead. From the majestic Aarakokra to Zombies themselves. There are many magical creatures, and people that have also succumbed to the plague, and have made the lands dark, and barren. Out of the darkness come two heroes that will change the future for Faerun, forever.

The Dead Rise

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