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Kiely awoke with a start as rough hands siezed her in the dark. She could not see the faces of the hooded figures stooped above her and she did not linger to find out who they were. Bolt upright in a flash, she slipped between the two and out the door of her private room. Sounds of struggle came from another room as she made for the stairs down to the public hall. She slid deftly down the railing as her two assailants gave chase. "Get her!", one said just a bit too loudly.

The young girl walked slowly toward Bran's huge hounds, who were slavering as they strained against their chains.  Some tried to dissuade her but the girl's mother said proudly, "Go ahead, Ciara, show them!"  Ciara extended her right hand in a calming gesture and, to the astoniment of all but one of the onlookers, the dogs sat silently on their haunches.

The freak storm passed and Grolach , Mokk, Duco and Ailyn headed back to the muddy trail leading north to Murias. A chaotic and tragic scene greeted them - the crushing hail stones had wrought havoc on the caravan. Several oxen had been killed and others crazed, dragging carts into ditches and spilling grain, pottery, textiles and many other goods onto the mud. The bodies of two merchants lay battered and bloody in the back of one of the intact wains. The survivors salvaged what they could and resumed the slow march through the muck.

With the Master vanquished, the four companions heaved a collective sigh of relief and turned to the business of clearing the rest of the tomb with renewed vigor and confidence. They turned down the narrow passage next to the Master's chamber. The air was close and foul and cobwebs clogged the tunnel and stuck to their bodies. Mokk thrust his torch ahead to clear the way for Grulach as they came to yet another pitch black side chamber.

Thankfully, Mokk's injuries were not as severe as initially feared. Grolach staunched the wounds and the party decided that they must discover and vanquish whatever hazards lurked deeper in the tomb. Retracing their steps to where they battled the inhuman, yellow-robed creatures, they saw the bodies still undisturbed in death. They proceeded and entered a chamber no doubt used for preparing the dead for the journey to the Otherworld. Rotted wooden tables held rusted implements of the embalmer's trade, stained with blackish blood. Rain cascaded from a rough opening in the ceiling under which was piled dirt and broken masonry, perhaps a tunnel for tomb robbers. Water swirled down a ghastly blood-stained drain in the floor.

Leaving the bodies where they fell, the four companions retreated to the entry chamber. Whatever other dangers the tomb held, they must at the very least secure the entry chamber for the night. Disaster struck in the first side chamber they entered. From stone biers flanking an alien, inhuman idol, six skeletal warriors rose to the attack flashing iron swords. Mokk, unaccustomed as he was to battle, nevertheless rushed headlong at the nearest guardian, who slashed a vicious gash across Mokk's chest. His white druidic robes now soaked with crimson blood, Mokk fell moaning to the ground.

The entry chamber was large, damp and empty. Torchlight cast ancient carvings into orange relief, spirals, knots and unknown runes. Any color that once adorned the walls had long since faded, leaving them bare and drab. All that remained were three passageways upon which hung three crude but relatively recent doors. Doors were not traditionally found inside tombs; the dead had no need of them. Outside, the crash of lightning and hammerfall of hailstones continued.

[Game master log] Grolach the Berserk, warrior of the Sessair, found himself two days out of Murias when the storm hit. The clouds were gathering dark and foreboding as the day waned and gusts drove the rain into his eyes. The caravan he accompanied on its way to the great Beltaine feast in the capital city of the Sessair stretched for more than a mile along the muddy track and came to a halt as the rain gave way to hail of increasing size.

The Wilderlands 2950 campaign came about in a roundabout way some time in 2002. It began as a set of introductory games using the D&D Adventure Set (the boxed intro to 3.0 edition) to introduce my kids to roleplaying. The Peter Jackson trilogy debuted around this time so we transplanted the setting to Middle Earth, complete with princesses, unicorns and whatever other basic fantasy (albeit non-Tolkienesque) elements we were using at the time. My son’s half-orc barbarian, Tuber, was transformed into a wild Northman, was eventually joined by Thalimar the elf, and we took it from there. The game was shorter-lived than we would have liked due to moves, family, life, etc etc.

Smaug lies dead these past 9 years and peace reigns in Wilderland. Dale is rebuilt, Laketown is prosperous, there is a King Under the Mountain and a Shadow has fled Mirkwood. But dangers lurk at the margins and complacency can be deadlier than an army. Who will remain vigilant so that their fellows may sleep safely?