The snow began to fall upon the Barony of Travance, only now starting to cover up the corpses that rested along the way like a trail snaking behind the heroes and those they saved from the destruction. It was a whole month of running and fighting and hiding and hoping and fear. This couldn’t continue on for much longer. Food would eventually run out and their strength would falter. The snow was falling, and after weeks of salvaging what they could from every town across the barony, it was time to march home; back to where the disaster began in Travance Proper.

It left much to wonder what the villains they had fought against so often thought about their current plight. No one was safe from this threat. It wasn’t good, but the husks still assaulted Fallow, Xashe, and the Plague Drinker. It wasn’t evil, but the husks still swarmed against the heroes of Travance and every living thing in sight. The Null held no allegiance, save for the higher powers that placed them on this world, or so one would assume.

From the streets of Auralion, the heroes prepared. Swords were sharpened with eyes watching their backs. What food they did have was loaded into carts and guarded against the bandits who thought this to be the best time for raiding. With so many dead or turned into husks, the losses and compromises were numerous. Now was the chance to claim the first of what would soon be many more victories in the name of those fallen.

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Waxing Gibbous Moon
Waxing Gibbous Moon
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Remi: "I see you have a pack mule."

Uriel: "I would appreciate it if you addressed Azrael with the same respect you give me."

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