Your trek through the Shattered Lands was brutal. No less than three times your small cadre was beset by brigands despite the fact that the royal seal of Ogrekvania was clearly emblazoned upon their mail. But the Shattered Lands knew no law and recognized no leader. It hadn't always been thus, your escort explained. Years ago the broken territory had been united beneath a common flag and a common name. Stability was the hallmark of the region, and it had served as a co-protector of the fledgling city of Stormpoint for decades. A handful of years ago, however, the reigning monarch, a kindred woman if the stories were to be believed, left the realm with neither warning nor explanation. In the power vacuum that followed, rival baronies arose, waging violent attacks in bloodied attempts to gain both land and pre-eminence.

The landscape, both literal and political, was now so scarred by these attempts that many cities had fallen and large swaths of the regions consisted of little more than fortified keeps and lawless bands that roamed like dogs between armed camps. Rivenland, a vile cesspool of wretched and twisted ambition, stood first among the cities that remained, and it sowed chaos with a gluttonous and unrivaled hunger.

Recent rumors suggested that along the former Darkendale border, an unnamed mage was vying to unite three of the baronies beneath his control. Though his purpose and intent remained unknown, your escort assured you that Lord Ogrek was keeping careful watch of the situation.

You were only partially assured, but bit your tongue, deciding that it was prudent to remain silent given your current company and state of incarceration. Your escort, however, felt no need to mirror your decision, and kept prattling on about the region's current state. You'd just managed to tune out his steady drone when a bolt of fire erupted at your feet.

Reaching instinctively for your sword, you cursed aloud when you remembered that you were unarmed, and hoped that your guards would be able to withstand this new assault, which came not from another band of outlaws, but from a menacing, demonic figure.