Chapter II: The Ruin of Thundertree and the Fall of Venomfang
I. A Hero’s Welcome in Phandalin
In the small frontier town of Phandalin, where hope endured beneath the shadow of distant mountains and dark forests, the deeds of Korrath and his companion Brightblade had already begun to earn them a measure of renown.
The Dendrar family had been rescued from the caves where they had languished in captivity, and their return brought joy to the townsfolk. Gratitude was freely given, warm hospitality extended, and for a brief while the two adventurers were permitted to enjoy the simple pleasures of civilisation. After the perils of the caverns, the welcome of the inn was a reward in itself.
Glasstaff, the treacherous wizard whose schemes had brought suffering upon the innocent, was delivered into the custody of Sildar Hallwinter and the Townmaster. He was confined within the town jail, there to answer for his crimes.
Yet Phandalin was a settlement beset by troubles, and its people had little opportunity to rest upon the achievements of others.
One by one, new requests came before the heroes.
Daran Edermath, the venerable former adventurer, sought answers concerning the ancient ruins of Old Owl Well, where strangers had been seen at work. Qelline Alderleaf, the kindly halfling farmer, wished the party to seek out the druid of Thundertree, hoping that he might offer a remedy for the blight that threatened her potato crops. There were rumours, too, of treasure hidden within the ruins, a reward promised by those the heroes had rescued.
Sildar Hallwinter had a more urgent concern. Gundren Rockseeker remained missing, and the search for Cragmaw Castle, the stronghold of his captors, had become a matter of great importance.
Elsewhere, the people of Phandalin faced raiders at Wyvern Tor, whilst Sister Garaele sought the aid of adventurers willing to brave the lair of Agatha the banshee in search of a lost spellbook.
There was enough work for a company of seasoned warriors.
But one rumour, above all others, caught Korrath’s attention.
To the north lay Thundertree, a settlement abandoned to ruin, its crumbling houses overrun by the restless dead.
Korrath, Monk and master of weapons, needed little encouragement.
Once more, he and Brightblade prepared for the road.
II. The Road to the Dead City
Northward they travelled, taking the road towards Neverwinter before following the river to the desolate remains of Thundertree.
Once, the settlement had known the bustle of ordinary life. Now its buildings stood broken and silent, their timbers blackened, their walls choked by vegetation. Nature had begun the work of reclaiming the town, but something foul still lingered among its ruins.
The first signs of danger came in the form of ash zombies, shambling remnants of the catastrophe that had laid waste to the settlement.
The creatures advanced without fear or reason, their dead limbs carrying them towards the living. Yet Korrath and Brightblade were not easily intimidated. The monk met the undead with disciplined violence, whilst the bard lent his skill to the struggle. One after another, the creatures fell, until a score of the accursed dead had been overcome.
The way into Thundertree lay open.
But the true danger had yet to reveal itself.
Among the ruins, the heroes discovered Reidoth, an old druid who had made her home in the forsaken town. Her knowledge of the wilderness and its secrets made her a valuable ally, and the heroes questioned her concerning the surrounding lands.
Korrath sought information about Cragmaw Castle and the whereabouts of Gundren Rockseeker. Reidoth, however, had a matter of her own to settle before she would offer such assistance.
The ruins were occupied by a green dragon named Venomfang.
The beast had taken possession of the old tower to the north, making its lair amidst the broken stones of Thundertree. Its presence had poisoned the peace of the region, and the druid had no intention of allowing the creature to remain unchallenged.
Reidoth made her bargain plain.
Drive Venomfang from the ruins, and she would reveal the location of Cragmaw Castle.
At last, Korrath had found a path towards his goal. Yet that path led directly towards the lair of a dragon.
III. Secrets Beneath the Ruins
Before confronting their mighty adversary, Korrath and Brightblade explored the shattered settlement.
The ruins were not entirely deserted. Giant spiders lurked among the abandoned buildings, whilst goblins continued to haunt the fallen town. The adventurers fought their way through these lesser dangers, clearing their path as they searched for anything that might aid them.
Their efforts were rewarded when they discovered the well-hidden treasure of the Dendrar family.
The grateful family had promised a reward for their rescue, and here, amidst the ruins of a dead settlement, that promise was fulfilled. The treasure was a welcome prize, but the heroes’ greater reward remained ahead.
It was then that they encountered a company of dragon cultists.
These strange devotees had come to pay homage to Venomfang, bringing with them precious amethysts as tribute to their draconic master. At first, Korrath and Brightblade agreed to accompany them, presenting the prospect of approaching the dragon beneath the guise of a peaceful offering.
It was a clever plan, for even a dragon might be distracted by the glitter of precious stones.
Yet as they made their way towards the tower, Korrath began to recognise the true nature of their supposed allies. These were not merely misguided travellers who admired the power of dragons. They were fanatics, bound to their cause and unlikely to abandon it for reason or persuasion.
The monk understood that the arrangement could not stand.
The heroes turned against the cultists as they ascended the trail.
With the cultists dealt with, the amethysts remained available for a different purpose. Rather than surrendering the gems to the dragon as tribute, Korrath and Brightblade would use them as bait.
The trap was set.
Now they had only to persuade Venomfang to leave its tower.
IV. The Dragon Descends
The old keep rose above the ruins, its stones weathered by time and its upper reaches claimed by the great green wyrm.
Venomfang had grown accustomed to ruling over the remnants of Thundertree. From its lofty refuge, it could watch the surrounding lands and strike at any who dared approach. Few would willingly challenge such a creature in its own domain.
But Korrath was no ordinary challenger.
The heroes presented the amethysts, their lustre catching the light, and Brightblade lent his silver tongue to the deception. With clever praise and the promise of a valuable offering, they drew the dragon’s attention away from the safety of its tower.
The plan worked.
Tempted by the glittering jewels and flattered by the bard’s words, Venomfang descended to the ground.
For a precious moment, the mighty dragon’s greed had overcome its caution.
Then came the realisation that the strangers before it were not merely petitioners seeking favour.
Korrath struck.
The battle for Thundertree had begun.
V. Steel Against Scales
The dragon answered the challenge with terrible fury.
Venomfang was a creature of immense strength, its scaled hide a natural armour, its claws and fangs weapons capable of tearing apart lesser warriors. But most terrible of all was its poisonous breath, a deadly cloud that threatened to engulf all who stood before it.
Against such a foe, courage alone would not suffice.
Korrath needed every ounce of his training, every instinct honed through countless trials, and every advantage his companion could provide.
Brightblade’s magic became the first shield against disaster.
The bard’s spell of Heroism fortified Korrath’s spirit, bolstering the monk against the terror and punishment of the dragon’s assault. Faerie Fire illuminated their monstrous opponent, making it easier for Korrath to find his mark against the shifting, deadly shape of the wyrm.
From farther back, Brightblade loosed arrow after arrow, each shot seeking an opening in the dragon’s defences. Between volleys, he watched his companion closely, ready to call upon his healing magic should the monk falter.
Yet even with such aid, the struggle was perilous.
Venomfang’s fury grew as the heroes refused to yield. Its poisonous breath swept across the battlefield, threatening to end the contest in a single terrible moment.
Korrath evaded the worst of the blast through sheer reflex and determination, escaping with his life where a lesser warrior might have fallen. Reidoth, too, survived the attack, her preparations proving vital against the dragon’s venom.
For the druid had not remained idle.
Having followed the heroes stealthily, Reidoth had sought to discover whether they would honour their word and truly confront the beast. Knowing the danger they faced, she had wisely prepared herself by drinking a potion that granted resistance to poison.
Now she emerged from concealment and joined the battle.
The druid raised her magic, calling down a Moonbeam upon the dragon.
Radiant power descended upon Venomfang, bathing the wyrm in celestial light. Though the dragon resisted much of the spell’s force, the assault only inflamed its rage.
The battle had become a contest of three heroes against one terrible foe.
And still, Venomfang fought on.
VI. The Monk Who Would Not Fall
As the struggle continued, the danger to Korrath grew ever more acute.
The dragon’s attention settled upon the monk and the druid, recognising them as the greatest immediate threats. Brightblade, watching from a safer distance, continued to fire his arrows and support his companions with healing magic.
Then Venomfang unleashed its poisonous breath once more.
Korrath moved with astonishing speed, escaping the full force of the attack. Reidoth’s resistance blunted the poison’s deadly effect. Both heroes endured the assault, though neither could afford to take another such punishment lightly.
For Korrath, the margin between victory and defeat had narrowed to a perilous sliver.
His strength was failing. The dragon’s fury threatened to overwhelm him, and the ground beneath his feet had become a place of mortal danger.
But the magic of Heroism still burned within him.
It was not merely a shield against the dragon’s blows. It was a reminder that he had not come to Thundertree to perish beneath a monster’s claws. He had come to rescue the innocent, to uncover the path to Cragmaw Castle, and to prove that even the mightiest creatures could be challenged by those with courage and purpose.
So Korrath endured.
The Moonbeam continued to harry Venomfang, whilst Reidoth’s spells added their own sting to the attack. The dragon writhed and roared, its fury mounting as the heroes denied it the swift victory it expected.
Brightblade’s arrows struck from afar, each one another small but vital contribution to the struggle.
The dragon had strength enough to destroy them.
What it lacked was the ability to make them surrender.
VII. Elemental Mastery
At last, the moment came upon which the battle would turn.
Korrath had endured the dragon’s savagery, weathered its poisonous breath, and fought on when defeat seemed almost inevitable. Now, through the disciplined mastery of his elemental power, he saw an opportunity.
The Moonbeam still shone upon the battlefield.
Venomfang, for all its strength, remained vulnerable to the combined efforts of the heroes. Its movements had been constrained by the need to contend with Korrath at close quarters, Reidoth’s magic from the side, and Brightblade’s relentless arrows from afar.
Then Korrath unleashed his Elemental Mastery.
With a forceful application of his power, the monk drove the mighty dragon backwards, pushing it into the radiant column of the Moonbeam.
The creature was forced into the very magic that had been tormenting it throughout the battle.
For an instant, the balance of the fight shifted.
Korrath saw his chance and seized it.
He struck.
The blow landed with devastating precision, a critical strike delivered at the decisive moment. Brightblade’s arrows bit into the dragon as well, their keen points finding their marks while the wyrm struggled beneath the combined assault.
Venomfang had been preparing to escape, seeking a chance to abandon the battle and preserve its life.
It never got the opportunity.
Korrath’s final assault, joined by Brightblade’s biting arrows and the druid’s relentless magic, overwhelmed the green dragon before it could flee.
The great wyrm fell.
For a moment, the ruins of Thundertree were silent.
The terror that had haunted the old settlement was ended. The dragon that had ruled from its ruined tower, confident in its strength and accustomed to the fear of lesser creatures, had been brought low by a monk, a bard, and a druid who refused to abandon the fight.
Korrath had stood against a dragon and prevailed.
VIII. The Victor’s Reward
With Venomfang defeated, the immediate danger to Thundertree was ended.
The heroes searched the ruins, taking stock of what remained and ensuring that their hard-won victory had not left them exposed to further danger. The battle had exacted a heavy toll, particularly upon Korrath, whose survival had depended upon his discipline, his companion’s magic, and the timely intervention of Reidoth.
Yet they had accomplished what they set out to do.
That night, the heroes rested among the ruins in the company of the druid. After the violence of the day, the quiet hours brought welcome respite. The dead town lay still, its terrible master defeated, and the heroes could at last contemplate the road ahead.
Reidoth honoured her bargain.
The location of Cragmaw Castle, so long sought by Sildar and the companions, was finally revealed.
Gundren Rockseeker’s fate remained to be determined, and the wider dangers threatening Phandalin had not vanished. There were still raiders at Wyvern Tor, secrets at Old Owl Well, a banshee to be questioned, and many other mysteries awaiting those brave enough to pursue them.
But one great obstacle had been overcome.
At dawn, Korrath and Brightblade departed Thundertree and began the journey back to Phandalin.
Behind them lay the broken tower, the abandoned streets, and the remains of the dragon whose presence had turned a once-living settlement into a place of fear.
Ahead lay the road to Cragmaw Castle, and with it the next stage of their quest.
Korrath returned not merely as a survivor of Thundertree, but as the warrior who had stood against Venomfang when the odds were dire, who had fought on when his strength was nearly spent, and who had delivered the decisive blow before the dragon could escape.
The green wyrm was no more.
The path to Gundren was known at last.
And the deeds of Korrath and Brightblade had grown into a tale worthy of remembrance.
Thus ended the Battle of Thundertree, in which courage overcame terror, cunning overcame greed, and the mastery of a determined monk brought down a dragon.
Yet the road to Cragmaw Castle remained, and darker trials awaited beyond the hills.
After surviving the perils of the Triboar Trail, Korrath and his steadfast companion Brightblade finally arrived in the frontier town of Phandalin, travelling aboard Gundren Rockseeker’s oxcart. Though weary from the road, they wasted little time in fulfilling the promises they had made.
Their first stop was Barthen’s Provisions, where they delivered Gundren’s long-overdue supplies to Elmina Barthen. Before they could even step through the doorway, however, they found themselves roughly shouldered aside by two swaggering members of the notorious Redbrands. Their arrogant display left little doubt that the gang believed themselves masters of the town. After completing the delivery and receiving Gundren’s payment, Korrath’s opinion of Phandalin’s so-called peace had already begun to sour.
From there the companions travelled to the Lionshield Coster, returning the stolen goods they had recovered from the goblin ambush. Linene Greywind gratefully accepted the recovered cargo and rewarded them for their honesty and courage. During their conversation they learned that the Redbrands were known to gather at the Sleeping Giant Inn, a rough alehouse that served as the gang’s preferred haunt.
With business concluded, Korrath and Brightblade accepted Sildar Hallwinter’s generous offer of lodging at the welcoming Stonehill Inn. There they met the friendly Stonehill family and spent the evening learning more about the troubled town. Beneath the warmth of the inn, it quickly became clear that fear of the Redbrands cast a long shadow over every household.
The following morning the pair visited Sildar at the Townmaster’s Hall. Sildar spoke of Iarno Albrek, the wizard who had vanished after arriving in Phandalin, along with several other concerns that hinted at darker forces moving behind the scenes.
Determined to learn more, they travelled to the nearby orchard to meet Daran Edermath, the retired adventurer whose sharp eyes missed little. Impressed by Korrath’s sense of justice, Daran promised to sponsor him for membership of the Order of the Gauntlet if he could rid Phandalin of the Redbrand menace and uncover whoever truly commanded them.
Those words stirred something deep within Korrath. Outrage at the gang’s tyranny hardened into resolve.
Without delay he marched to the Sleeping Giant Inn, where he confronted the Redbrands openly. Steel was drawn, blows were exchanged, and the confrontation confirmed what Korrath had already suspected: the gang operated from the long-abandoned Tresendar Manor overlooking the town.
After speaking with concerned townsfolk, including Harbin Wester, Sildar Hallwinter, and members of the Stonehill family who had gathered to investigate the disturbance, Korrath set out immediately for the manor.
Searching its ruined cellars, he uncovered a concealed passage leading into the Redbrands’ hidden stronghold. There, lurking in the darkness, dwelt a strange and dangerous Nothic. Rather than rushing headlong into battle, Korrath chose diplomacy. Through careful negotiation he convinced the twisted creature to grant safe passage, avoiding what could have been a deadly confrontation.
Within the hideout, Korrath and Brightblade proved relentless. They swept through the Redbrand ranks, defeated their bugbear allies, and rescued a miserable goblin who had suffered constant abuse at the hands of his supposed comrades.
Honouring his bargain with the Nothic, Korrath later supplied the creature with ample “fresh meat” from the fallen Redbrands. In return, the creature revealed the location of a hidden cache containing the magical longsword Talon, a weapon worthy of a true champion.
Armed with this knowledge, the companions tracked down the mysterious Glasstaff in his private library. Before the wizard could escape or unleash his magic, Korrath acted swiftly, overpowering him and taking him alive. With Glasstaff bound as their prisoner, the remaining Redbrands lost both their confidence and their leadership.
Rather than pressing deeper into unnecessary danger, Korrath wisely used his captive to secure safe passage through the remaining sections of the hideout. In doing so, he was able to rescue the imprisoned Dendrar family, avoiding many of the deadly traps and remaining foes that still lay ahead.
Notable Achievements
Delivered Gundren’s supplies to Barthen’s Provisions.
Returned the Lionshield cargo and earned Linene Greywind’s reward.
Earned the respect of Daran Edermath.
Received the promise of sponsorship into the Order of the Gauntlet.
Defeated the Redbrands within Tresendar Manor.
Negotiated peacefully with the Nothic.
Defeated the bugbears.
Rescued an abused goblin.
Captured Glasstaff alive.
Rescued the Dendrar family.
Claimed the magical longsword Talon.
Threads Yet to Unravel
Although the Redbrands have been broken, many questions remain unanswered.
Who truly commanded Glasstaff?
What became of Gundren Rockseeker?
Where does the mysterious Black Spider fit into these events?
Will Korrath prove worthy of joining the Order of the Gauntlet?
The roads around Phandalin remain dangerous, and greater adventures surely await beyond the town’s borders.
The tale continues with Korrath, Dragonborn Monk, warrior, and master of arms.
After the fall of the Cult of Chaos in the Borderlands, Korrath and his longtime companion Geriant the Fighter earned hard-won renown. Together they defended the Keep, shattered the cursed bell within the Sacred Pool, and brought a fragile peace to the land.
With their previous trials behind them, the pair travelled north to the great city of Neverwinter. Geriant sought out an old acquaintance, the dwarven prospector Gundren Rockseeker, while Korrath pursued a different path entirely. Drawn by honour and discipline, he hoped to learn more of the famed Order of the Gauntlet and journeyed toward Phandalin to seek one who had once belonged to that noble order.
Fortune, however, has a habit of twisting roads together.
Gundren was in need of capable adventurers willing to escort a wagon south to Phandalin. At a crowded inn Korrath encountered Brightblade, a silver-tongued bard with expensive tastes and a suspiciously empty coin purse. Brightblade eagerly joined the expedition after a combination of persuasion, promises of glory, and outright bribery.
Geriant, meanwhile, remained behind in Neverwinter on business he refused to explain.
Thus Korrath and Brightblade set out alone upon the Triboar Trail.
Their journey quickly turned perilous.
Not long after leaving the High Road, the pair discovered signs of violence and soon fell prey to an ambush by Cragmaw Goblins lurking in the wilds. Refusing to retreat, Korrath pursued the raiders directly to their hidden cave stronghold.
Charging ahead with fearless determination, the Dragonborn triggered nearly every trap on the path to the goblin tunnels, though by grit, skill, and sheer stubborn resilience he emerged with little more than bruises and irritation.
Within the caves the companions defeated the outer sentries and soon came upon a den of chained wolves. Using a Spider Climb enchantment, Korrath scaled the rough chimney walls to spy upon the goblin king above: a brutish bugbear tyrant holding court within his filthy throne room.
After silently descending once more, Korrath and Brightblade devised a daring assault.
Together they overcame the wolves before climbing into the chamber itself, striking with complete surprise. The self-proclaimed “King” was cut down before he could rally his guards, and the pair pressed deeper into the caves, clearing goblins and beasts from chamber after chamber.
At last they reached the heart of the hideout, where several goblin bosses and hardened warriors made a desperate final stand.
The battle was fierce.
Korrath fought like a living tempest, scattering foes with fists, steel, and relentless martial discipline, but even he was eventually overwhelmed and struck down amidst the chaos. In the critical moment Brightblade rushed to his side, forcing a healing potion between the Dragonborn’s jaws and dragging him back from the brink.
Recovered and furious, Korrath rejoined the fray while Brightblade, never one to miss an opportunity for theatrics, loosed a perfectly timed arrow into the distracted final goblin leader during tense negotiations over the fate of the fallen bugbear king.
With their leaders slain, the remaining goblin warriors surrendered.
Among the prisoners the adventurers discovered a captured nobleman who introduced himself as Sildar Hallwinter. Grateful for his rescue, Sildar rewarded the heroes with valuable information and promises of future payment.
Before departing, Korrath and Brightblade ordered the surviving goblins to load the stolen merchant goods back onto their wagon before scattering into the wilderness.
Now the unlikely companions once again travel the road to Phandalin, wagon heavy with recovered supplies, rescued prisoner in tow, and new dangers waiting somewhere beyond the hills.
Bruce played the Scots against Mike’s Vikings and Phil was the Umpire.
The Vikings formed up on the hill (anywhere east of the road) in shieldwall. Meanwhile King Malcolm prayed at the Kirk.
The Scots under the three Fated Thanes rushed forward across the Dullan Water and surged towards the shieldwall. At the clash of the forces the Scots fared badly losing 2 units of spearmen and one of their heroes in single combat. They did however manage to push some units up the hill and pursue with the Scottish Thegns (Huscarles). At this point the Viking King was held in reserve.
From the Kirk, Malcolm could see the disaster unfolding! His cup of reputation tokens was rapidly emptying whilst the Vikings were gaining! Soon all would be lost. So he prayed to God almighty to intervene on his behalf on the scenario prayer table! a good roll with 3 units/ leaders lost meant he gained a unit of Thegns and a mounted Champion arriving late to the battle field and was able to rally his remaining troops.
At this moment there was a lull in the fighting as both sides withdrew to their initial positions. The Viking shield wall reformed on the hill. The Scots redeployed all their forces in the meadow, now under the command of Malcolm the Destroyer himself.
Battle began again. The Scots outnumbered but not cowed formed facing the hill and advanced but did not charge. The vikings were tempted from the high ground and advanced down shields locked onto the meadow. With a mighty roar the Scots charged led by their King.
As in the legends Malcolm challenged the Proud Viking King to single combat. The Viking leader was slain, dragged from his horse and strangled in the last round of single combat. His troops too were pushed back. However not all the Vikings were defeated and were pushing forwards on the flanks. The Scottish mounted champion was killed in combat!
With their king dead though the forces began to retire to their second camp and it was clear the day was lost. So victory was awarded to the Scots when the Viking reputation cup was empty of honour!
Bungo and his companions Nuri and Forlong , moved by pity, took into their care the elven hermit Aya, who for long years had dwelt alone in the wild places. Though her heart was heavy with solitude and she had turned from the high folk of Elrond’s kindred, still they hoped she might yet find solace among the Silvan people, who keep to the secret fastnesses of the ancient woods. Thus, with gentle words and steadfast friendship, they persuaded her to journey with them back toward the peopled lands of Middle-earth.
Yet on the homeward road Bungo himself was troubled; for the daggers he had borne away from the fell sorcerer Snava gnawed at his sleep, kindling in him dark dreams and murderous thoughts alien to the heart of a hobbit. But with the quiet strength and good sense of his kind, Bungo mastered the shadow within. At dawn he cast the weapons aside, determining to hand them over to Balin or one of the Wise, choosing peace over peril, and so freed himself from their malice.
When at last they returned to Bree, they were met by Balin son of Fundin, a Dwarf of renown. Eagerly did they tell their tale of the North, and when the key of strange make was laid before him, Balin’s eyes shone with wonder and desire, for it was said to unlock a hidden way into Khazad-dûm of old. Greatly did this stir his heart, for the halls of Moria had long been closed to the Dwarves, and their memory weighed upon his people like a stone.
Forlong, the man of the Dunedain, then brought forth Esterlang, his sundered sword. Balin, moved by the tale of its breaking, promised that it should be borne to Erebor, where the forges of the Lonely Mountain still rang with craft and cunning, that the smiths there might examine it and bring it anew to life.
But for all these marvels, the road of the company was not yet ended. Their counsel turned westward, toward the Grey Havens and the twilight lands by the Sea. There, in the shadowed forests nigh to Mithlond, dwelt yet some of the Sindar and Silvan folk, and it was thought that Aya might find peace among them. For indeed, in Bree she had been ill at ease, distressed by the noise and tumult of mortal folk.
So they passed swiftly through the green hills of the Shire, where Bungo felt again the quiet of his homeland, though he lingered not; and soon they came to the ancient Elven-towers upon the western borders of Eriador. There they were halted by a stern warden, tall and grim, who kept solitary watch over those fair and fading stones.
That very night, peril came upon them; for both a servant of Umbar, a dark man out of the South, and an emissary of Saruman the White, moving each unknowing of the other, sought to seize a Palantír hidden high within the tallest tower. In the struggle that followed the southern warrior was thrown down, and the emissary taken alive; and the Elven-warden, though at first mistrustful, looked thereafter upon the company with new favor.
Each among them then dared to lay hands upon the seeing-stone, hoping for counsel. But the visions it granted were wild and fell: only war and shadow, ruin and the marching hosts of iron. No wisdom could they wrest from its depths, and each turned away troubled, the weight of dark tidings heavy on their hearts.
Thus ended that chapter of their wandering, with questions yet unanswered, and the road ahead uncertain.
The icy winds of Forodwaith howled across the barren wasteland as three figures pressed forward through knee-high snow. Nuri, a proud and fierce Dwarf of Erebor, clenched his axe tightly as he trudged ahead. Forlong, a secretive Dunedain Ranger, dressed head to toe in the white furs of the Snow Men of the North, scanned the horizon with wary eyes. Bungo, an eager Hobbit burglar and treasure hunter, pulled his fur-lined cloak tighter around his small frame, muttering about the unrelenting cold.
They pursued Snava, a wretched Orc who had stolen something of great value. Their path led them deep into the frozen wilderness, where death lurked in the silent drifts and shadowed crevasses.
As they pressed on, they came upon a funeral pyre, the embers still smouldering against the stark white of the snow. Skulls and bones, twisted in agony, told of a terrible sacrifice. Forlong knelt, inspecting the remains. “This is no common burial,” he murmured. “Dark rites were performed here.”
Soon, they encountered a band of Lossoth, the snow-dwelling folk. But these were no mere hunters of the ice; the cruel glint in their eyes and the black markings upon their hands revealed their servitude to the Shadow. Thinking quickly, Bungo produced the shell tokens they had found at the pyre, holding them forth with an air of authority. The Lossoth hesitated, then nodded, allowing them to pass without further challenge.
Further along the frozen cliffs, a sudden snowstorm swept down upon them. Blinded by the flurry, they found themselves separated. A monstrous roar shattered the howling winds—Snow Trolls! A massive clawed hand snatched Bungo from the ledge, hoisting him high. Another troll lunged at Nuri, but then turned at the last moment as the Dwarf stood ready with his axe. With a roar, the Snow Trolls leaped from the cliff into the drifts below carrying away their prize, only to be pursued into an ice cave.
Forlong, ever the silent hunter, crept through the cavern and found the trolls taunting Bungo, who hung upside down, bound and ready to be devoured. Without hesitation, he hurled his spear, striking the largest troll in the shoulder. With a cry of rage, Nuri charged from another passage, engaging the second beast. The cavern erupted into battle.
Bungo, ever resourceful, easily cut his bonds and seized a torch. As the fight raged, he flung blazing oil upon the icy floor, turning the cave into a fire-lit battleground. Nuri’s heavy mail saved him from crushing blows and sharp toothed bites, while Forlong’s swift strikes harried the beasts. With a final, desperate lunge, Forlong drove his sword through the heart of the first troll. The second turned to flee but met an arrow in the eye—Bungo’s keen shot felling the creature instantly.
Their journey led them next to a small, hidden refuge where they met Aya, a beautiful and mysterious Elven hermit. She provided warmth and food in exchange for Bungo’s songs and tales of adventure. But their respite was brief—Snava crept into the shelter, attempting to steal Forlong’s sword. The Orc was tricked and fled into the darkness, but the pursuit was far from over. Aya offered Bungo a Magic Ring if he would journey with her once again in the twilight forests and secret glades at the edges of the world. Bungo declined declaring he could not abandon his comrades in the hour of their need. However he promised to return feeling pity for the lonely Elf and offered to guide her to kin in Rivendell. She declined the company of the High Elves but perhaps there is another place where this Elf could find peace at last?
They ventured onto the Shadow Road, an ancient, forsaken path, braving the darkness that clung to its stones. As they ascended the treacherous stairway, Bungo lost his footing, tumbling into the abyss. At the bottom, dazed, he found himself face to face with Snava. The Orc struck, but before he could deliver the final blow, Nuri came charging down the steps, axe swinging. The battle was short, and Snava fell, leaving behind a set of keys—keys to Moria. Nuri took them, his heart swelling with the weight of their significance.
They pressed on, past the haunted houses of the Priests, where unseen whispers gnawed at their spirits. At the Altar and the Well of Fear, despair gripped them, yet they persevered. Deep within the chambers below, they found themselves troubled by shadows of the past. Weary and miserable, they trudged forward.
Then, Bungo’s sharp eyes caught the glint of gold. Something ancient and dark whispered to him, and in that moment, madness took him. The whispers of old sorcery twisted his mind. The prophecy of Forlong’s ancestor—the betrayal of a companion—was renewed. Seized by the darkness, Bungo took Snava’s Morgul blade and, with cunning, tricked Forlong into leading. Then, with a swift and treacherous stroke, he plunged the cursed blade into the Ranger’s back.
Forlong’s cry echoed through the chamber as the sorcery took hold. Writhing in pain, he fought against the shadow creeping through his veins. With great difficulty, Nuri and Bungo subdued him. As the madness lifted from Bungo’s mind, horror filled his eyes. “What have I done?” he whispered.
Forlong, weakened but resolute, reached for the pouch at his belt. Athelas, the sacred herb of the Dunedain, was pressed to his wound. Though the poison’s spread was halted, no time remained for rest.
A low, chilling growl rumbled through the halls. The disturbance had awakened something terrible. The Worm Wight, an undead beast of immense power, stirred in its lair. Its ancient, skeletal form coiled in the darkness, eyes burning with malice.With his ancestor’s spirit calling him to arms once more, Forlong gripped his Numenorean blade. Weary, wounded, and burdened by despair, the heroes stood together against the ancient terror.
The sky over the Ettenmoors hung heavy with iron-grey clouds as the company of dwarves and their companions surveyed the fortress of Rath Sereg from a rocky hilltop. Its broken walls jutted from the earth like the jagged teeth of some ancient beast, guarding secrets and horrors long forgotten. Beneath its shadow, the Red Gorse Hills stretched, red as blood beneath the dim light filtering through the clouds.
Nuri the dwarf, Bungo the hobbit, and Forlong the ranger stood alongside Floki, a grim-eyed dwarf warrior seeking vengeance for the death of his brother, Flonar. With him marched twelve stout dwarven rangers from the Blue Mountains, battle-hardened and ready to risk all to rescue their brethren held captive within the fortress.
They watched Rath Sereg for a full day and night, taking note of the orcs’ movements. Through keen observation, they discovered that even the limited sunlight peeking through the clouds left the orcs nearly blind, forcing them into the shadows. It was a weakness they could exploit.
Bungo, nimble and silent as a shadow, slipped into the fortress under the cover of a brief shaft of sunlight. Within the grim halls, he discovered a hulking Great Orc guarding the gates, clutching a massive ring of ancient keys. Deeper still, he found a subterranean level where a sturdy portcullis blocked the path to the goblin caves below. In the other direction lay three heavy doors—one of which surely held the captives, while another might conceal the orc leaders: Snava, the shaman, and Hultmar the Many-Handed, their commander.
After regrouping, the company devised their plan. First, they would ambush the orcs at the gatehouse and wrest the keys from the Great Orc. Floki insisted on joining the fight—his thirst for vengeance burned too hot to be denied. The remaining dwarves would await the signal arrow, ready to storm the gate if needed.
Thus the ambush began. The clash of steel and the snarls of the Great Orc filled the air. Nuri met the beast head-on, wielding his great axe with deadly precision. The orc fought ferociously, but with a mighty swing, Nuri’s axe found its mark, and the Great Orc crumpled to the ground. Forlong, narrowly escaping injury, gave a grateful nod as he examined the deep dent in his well-crafted armor.
With the keys in hand, the heroes descended into the fortress’s depths. Carefully, they brought down the portcullis, trapping the goblins in the lower caves. Then, one by one, they freed the imprisoned dwarves, their shackles falling silently to the floor. Victory seemed within reach, but their mission was not yet complete.
Floki refused to leave without his vengeance and also there was the issue of the key to Moria, a precious relic his brother had carried. They pressed onward, seeking Snava the shaman. In a dark chamber filled with the scent of old parchment and strange herbs, they found him. Flames roared to life as a trap sprung, but Forlong leapt through the inferno without hesitation. His spear found its mark, striking Snava just as he vanished through a secret door. Pursuing him through the twisting corridors, Forlong hurled another spear, wounding the fleeing shaman before losing him in the shadows.
Bungo searched the chamber and found a pair of darkly forged daggers—Snava’s cruel and enchanted weapons.
The final confrontation awaited in the chamber of Hultmar the Many-Handed. The orc commander fought with savage strength and cunning, wielding his Great Leap to evade Floki’s attacks and strike at Bungo, who had already taken a poisoned arrow to the side. Meanwhile, Nuri and Forlong battled their way through Hultmar’s guards, cutting them down one by one.
At last, Hultmar’s blade clashed with Forlong’s. Weakened but unrelenting, Forlong pressed the attack. Bungo, clutching one of Snava’s daggers, staggered to his feet and struck the orc from behind. The dark magic bound to the dagger flared ominously as Hultmar turned in terror, recognition dawning too late. With a final gurgling breath, the commander fell silent.
Among Hultmar’s hoard, they found a beautifully crafted elven helm and a great trove of dwarven coins, each stamped with the ancient sigil of lost Moria. Using the secret passage from Snava’s chamber, the heroes slipped away unnoticed and rejoined the dwarven rangers beyond the fortress walls.
There, they parted ways. The dwarves returned to the Blue Mountains with their rescued kin, while Floki agreed to bear news of their victory and their findings to Bilbo and Balin in the Shire. As for Nuri, Bungo, and Forlong, their journey was not yet over. The key to Moria was still missing, and the shadow of Snava lingered like a dark promise in the distance.
The road ahead would be perilous, but for now, the heroes had won a hard-fought victory.
Nuri the Dwarf, Bungo the Hobbit and Forlong the Ranger sit at a good table in the Prancing Pony Inn enjoying their ale. Floki the Dwarf is reintroduced to them and he requests a small favour, that they deliver a sealed message to his brother Flonar. He explains that he will be in the Dwarven Halls of the Blue Mountains to the West should his brother wish to reply with another message.
After some questions and discussion, they agree and head out West through the Shire and then North towards the Lake. With Forlong as the guide they make haste and avoid all mishaps. Looking out towards the Lake they wisely decide to avoid the fog which obscures its surface and the ancient ruins to the east.
They come across the dwarves at the Vale of Gold. They are all dead and their camp is afire. The heroes make short work of a group of goblin archers, felling three outright with their initial volleys as they come across the foul creatures unawares. They discover that twelve dwarves have been taken prisoner and that something was taken, roughly ripped from a necklace on Flonar’s body.
They track the orcs to a hidden vale to the east and decide that the force is too large to attack alone so head east to the Blue Mountains and the Dwarves.
There they meet Vilia a clan chieftain and Floki. After some intrigue and treasure they are invited to the council of the dwarves to discuss the matters at hand. Floki persuades them to intercede on his behalf: or perhaps it is the plight of the dwarvern prisoners; or indeed the tale of a secret key to Moria being the item taken from Flonar’s corpse; that inspires them. Forlong is intent on pursuing his oath and moving further North to the Hill of Fear and leaving the Dwarves and Floki to their fate. In the end the heroes agree to travel to the fortress of the orcs in the Ettenmoors with a group of dwarven scouts in an attempt to rescue the prisoners. They are rewarded with armour and helms of ancient dwarven make, inscribed with Runes and of fabulous craftsmanship. Crossing the land in relative haste they recover the trail at the hidden vale and aided by the dwarves find themselves looking across the moors to the iron gates of the fortress
Our heroes; Nuri the Dwarf, Bungo the Hobbit and Forlong the Ranger gathered once again ready for adventure. In a small fishing village of the folk of Lond Daer the crowd are angry. They encounter a wild looking character known as Jon a Leaping. The village cobbler Borlas has been held against his will in Tharbad which lies up river. Jon has in turn been caught by the villagers as an outlaw, thief and bandit who has been preying on the villagers for some time now. He claims to be a friend of the Lord and Master of Tharbad, Gurnow. So the village leader asks the heroes to take Jon to Tharbad and ransom him in exchange for Borlas.
They agree and over the next few days travel with Jon upstream along the river bank. Jon escapes and is followed to the Watchful Stones where the group once again meet with Orothel the Ranger. It transpires that Jon has been her messenger into Tharbad and she has been waiting here 5 days for him. After some discussion they agree to continue with Jon to Tharbad and agree to help Orothel obtain a message from her mysterious agent in Tharbad.
The heroes visit Tharbad and during their time find an old Library maintained by an all but forgotten scribe. Bungo searches about but resists the temptation to steal from her whilst Gimli and Forlong obtain her aid in future research as well as finding some useful maps and lore. She receives a generous donation from Nuri. Between them they learn more about the mysterious Hill of Fear to the North and Moria. They find an ancient map of the Redhorn Pass.
Eventually they meet Gurnow in his Hall. Jon is handed over much to his dismay and placed in the prison awaiting execution. They see Tharnow the Lord’s brutal son and learn more about Lady Stock. They earn the Lord’s favour for bringing in Jon and use this to travel with relative freedom about the town. They meet a an antiquarian or treasure hunter, again gleaning some more useful information and a potential future contact. They find the message from Orothel’s mysterious agent.
They set out to the prison and convince the gaoler of Garth Tauron, one Valandur to leave in a hurry with his guardsmen (on the pretext of urgent orders from the Master) whilst they investigate. They find Jon and Borlas who have been brought up from the cells and are being loosely guarded due to the heavy rain flooding the lower levels. Rescuing them both they head out of town using a secret route and reach Orothel. However Forlong has taken a nasty blow to the head.
Orothel reads the letter and is furious with Jon for causing the delay. She accompanies the heroes in all haste after one Deor, a stranger to these lands. He had been seen in the company of Dwarves, one of whom was named Flonar. Then he had spoken with the Master and the Lady before setting off in a boat headed North.
They eventually find Deor’s body which grasps out at one of them even in death. Dark spirits gather and a black cloud suddenly obscures the sun. Orcs and Goblins attack in great numbers. Orothel does her best to fend off the great host. Forlong lifts Esterlang aloft and banishes the clouds and evil spirits, half blinding the Orcs with the sunlight. The heroes are victorious but Nuri is exhausted, Forlong injured.
Orothel is badly wounded by an arrow. Searching about and discovering the Orc camp they find some clues. Also, they are able to interrogate the Orcs who talk about one Snava, an Orc Boss “Up from the Fire”.
They discover two artefacts bearing the sigil of the Lidless Eye, bound with dark magics, which Bungo takes into his keeping. One an iron talisman and the other a circlet which he can use should he choose, to enhance his skills. Also a small amulet which they later learn is from the far north made from the carapace of the fabled Fastitocalon. This is a token of friendship from the Snowmen of Lossoth.
They return to Bree at the Sign of the Prancing Pony where they find Balin once again and are re-introduced to the Dwarf named Floki, who has a small errand for them. Simply to deliver a note to his brother…
