Lothorewyn Summoned

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Lothorewyn Slain

There is an old hymn the elves sang in times of peace, recalling an ancient time when the Magicks were balanced and men had only begun to walk the earth. They sing of a deep forgotten vale, shrouded in a thick mist, of a concealed grove eternally touched by spring. It is there, amidst the great ash, stands a tall tree encased with a shining loam. Lothorewyn is its name and from its leaves come the dews that spring from the river of life. There in the valley, it stands forever green, watching over the Land of Mist. This mighty pillar acts as a bridge between worlds; it is said that the branches of Lothorewyn extend far into the heavens, and that the tree is supported by massive roots that dig deep into the depths of hell itself. Here at the heart of the forest where the stream of life flows fullest, is the path by which all lost souls may find their way.

Lord Ryen'dell, King of the Elves, assures you that the great tree is no myth, and that the valley has in recent times gone silent. What used to be a wellspring of life has become harrowed ground. Together you summon what forces you can and journey to expel the evil that has befallen the land. The winds howl and moan as you approach the gates of the misty mountain pass. Already you see the effects of the blight; the lush undergrowth has been replaced with a lifeless bog. Restless spirits cast glimmers to hide the path and taunt your weary travels. Their whispers echo through the night, but you stay your course and guide each step by the light of the stars. At last you arrive at the heart of the forest, although too late it seems.

The sacred tree has become an abomination, a warped form of what it once was. A strange tendril siphons from the stream of souls, pulling the very essence of life from the world and imprisoning the souls it once sought to guide. Its twisted figure towers above you, the surrounding warden trees blaze with a demonic light. Lord Ryen'dell leads the charge, and the call of griffins can be heard in the sky. You bury a mighty axe in the bark of the creature to no effect. With a snap from a large bough you are flung back. The great trees branches rake across the path scouring the ground with its barbed lashes. As you jump over the twirling vines beneath you, a limb from the tree lashes out and strikes against your helm. The poisoned thorns prick against your skin, filling your body with a demonic venom. You stagger back as visions of a strange future fill your mind. Though the haze you see a demonic hoard of converted souls rising from the depths and at its center, you see Baal's true form devouring the stream of life, growing stronger and stronger with every second. You envision the realms immersed in fire with you powerless to stop it.

When the visions clear, you awake to the sight of Lord Ryen'dell caught in a red glow emanating from the base of the tree. His body convulses as bark-like demonic flesh boils up from his skin. You watch his eyes turn black as he drops his weapon. The enemy focused on consuming Ryen'dell and his kin, you take this opportunity and rush forward to take up his weapon. You thrust the blade into the tree, a blue runic light trail from the end of the sword wraps around the tree. The voices of the elf elders resonate though the air. A burst of light shatters the sword, setting the forest ablaze. Among the burning ash, a sapling sprouts, a sight of hope for the sacred ground. However the vision of Baal's minions cannot leave your mind. What power has Baal obtained? And where will he strike next?