You fled the collapse of the ruins and walked for days across icy wastes until you came upon a remote village in the mountains. There isn’t much here, but for an unnamed tavern and even less to do. Weary of snow and welcomed by a warm hearth and a pretty ear you take to the

Past the frozen caverns and bottomless chasms, and Torsten, you find yourself in a man-made chamber at the heart of the mountain. In some ways it reminds you of a temple, but to no god you recognize. The walls are covered in ancient script, the air is stale, and the only light is that of

Being a hero is hard and sometimes you just want what’s owed. Torsten and his men have chased you for days across the inhospitable and frozen north with a tenacity that makes you wonder if they are demons and not men. All for a minor dispute of monetary ownership. A simple misunderstanding. But it’s personal
