the Quick and the Dead

Dust motes danced like fairies in the soft rays of sunlight that filtered through the broken roof. She awoke. "Oh no. No, no,no..."
Miss Adventure kicked Gildrid in the head.
"Ow! What?" the elf said, angrily.
"Shut up dummy. I think I heard something".
Sure enough, a twig snapped outside. They both peered through the cracks of the ruined hovel they had spent the night in.
Just outside their shack, a large, filthy, yellow furred creature wearing rusted armor trudged about. He, it looked male, poked around the refuse of the abandoned village with a cruel looking polearm. He stopped suddenly. He sniffed the air. Then again.
He turned and gazed with malevolent red eyes at their hiding place.

"Boots, quick", Miss Adventure whispered.
While Gildrid donned Miss Adventure magic boots he whispered back. "I can speak Bugbear."
"You think he really wants to talk? He looks hungry".
Just as they had gathered their things, and the halfling once again jumped piggyback on the elf, what was left of door burst open.
"BREAKFAST!" the bugbear howled.
But they were already gone.
Gildrid sprinted down the road, only stopping when they hit a somewhat familiar crossroad.
One track led east to the Deepen Wood. The other led west to a hill beyond.
As Miss Adventure climbed down from Gildrid's back she said, "Was that western trail here before?"
"I don't know," the elf said, "but I'm not ready for the those zombie plant things in the woods."
So, they followed the trail west. It led up a gradual, then sharp slope. When they reached the top, almost out of breath, they found a lone tree.
It was large and ancient. The wood was gnarled and twisted. But instead of leaves, this tree seemed to have sprouted corpses. From almost every branch hung a body in various states of decay. Some wore ancient armor, some simple peasant clothes. The ground below was dead to too. No grass grew.
The whole scene should have reeked of decay and offal, but instead Miss Adventure only smelled fresh baked pie. To Gildrid, it was the pines of his woodland home he smelled.
There was no breeze yet the corpses seemed to blow gently in the wind.
The two adventurers stood, transfixed by the scene. Miss Adventure was almost ready to say something, when the closest hanged man moved.
There was a sick cracking of bones as his head straightened and turned to them. It spoke.
"Leave this place"......

Run, run away....

There was a terrible scream as the beast tore into Gildrid's horse. He rose to spear the creature.
"No!" Miss Adventure yelled. "You can't hurt it it. All we can do is run."
After a short backward glance at her terrified pony, Miss Adventure took off, followed by Gildrid. They headed for the road.
"They love to eat Halflings," she said between puffs. Just then the beast let out roar. He was following.
"Stop," Miss Adventure said to Gildrid. "We can't outrun it, but I have a plan."
She pulled her magic boots from her backpack, and handed them to Gildrid. He was confused. She never shared. Never. After another roar from creature he sat upon the trembling ground and put them on. Miss Adventure hopped on his back.
In a cloud of dust they were gone.

They headed north along the Old Trade Road to where they had discovered  an abandoned village in a previous expedition. It had been infested from below with kobolds.
"Let's hope the previous residents haven't returned", the halfling said.
They found a burned out hovel that still had the remains of a roof. The magic boots gave you fantastic speed but took a toll on your body. Gildrid collapsed to the floor exhausted. There was still some night left, so Miss Adventure took the watch while Gildrid slept. Within moments she was fast asleep.

Out of the Frying Pan

"RUN!" shouted Miss Adventure.
Dragging the horses behind, the two ran back down the trail. The emerged from the Deepen Wood into the bright sunshine and heat.
"What was that?" asked Gildrid.
"I don't know," replied the halfling, "but I'm pretty sure I know what happened to those trees in a small ravine next to the slowly drying remains of a stream. Gildrid would take the first watch. At some point during the night the ground rumbled. At first he jokingly thought it was simply Miss Adventure's stomach. But, then it happened again. He was in the process of waking her when the ground twenty feet away erupted. The raining dirt pelted the elf and halfling waking Miss Adventure.
Through her bleary eyes she recognized the thing all halflings fear.
"Landshark!"

THe Misadventures of Gildrid and Miss Adventure

It was hot. It had been hot for weeks with little rain. Guardians on the Wall cooked in their mail, while the citizens below sweltered in hovels meant for harsh winters.
In the Inn known as Hole, Miss Adventure, a young halfling and her elven friend Gildrid were not only hot, but bored.
"Word is a party went out to the Deepen Wood and never came back." the halfling said. "Then another group went out looking for them. They're missing, too"
The elf looked up from his warm mug of ale, "So?"
"So, their families are offering 50 crowns for information about them. One hundred if we bring them back."
"I've got that much in my pocket now, and bags of gold at Professor Nodd's", the elf replied.
Miss Adventure only glared at him.
Gildrid sighed,"Okay..."
Before they left, the Lord Marshal himself paid them a visit. He warned them not to take the previous routes out of Wall they had used. Instead, avoid the road and cross overland.
This they did. But only a few miles out they were already worn by the heat. Their mounts walked slowly and it was late afternoon before they entered the Deepen Wood.
No birds called from within. The trees were twisted into themselves and covered with old cobwebs. The whole place had a choked, stifling feel to it. The two adventurers found an old animal track into the Wood from the west end. They were forced to dismount.
Only a few strides in they came upon a body half hidden in the undergrowth. It seemed human once, only the skin was taunt against the bones and a weird yellow color. Gildrid used his spear to turn the body over. Miss Adventure gasped. Vines grew out of it's face. Green vines with purple and yellow flowers. Gildrid quickly spun the spear around and lopped the corpse's head off. A puff of yellow dust "poofed" from the body.
Quickly they left the body and headed further in. They came upon a second trail. This one looked as if it had been hacked from the undergrowth. "Uh-no," the halfling said.
They kept on their easterly path. Soon they entered a small clearing. It was dominated by a large tree oak. The oak was being strangled by a huge viney plant. The plant was covered in the same yellow and purple flowers the corpse had.
Before this sight was completely absorbed by the two adventurers, the forest around them moved. From the trees beside them three figures emerged. They had the shuffling gait of the undead, but had dull yellow, parchment thin skin and vines growing out of terrible places. The vines led back to the large plant in the center. The plant was using the bodies like some sick puppet show!

Krolos

Krolos

Known as the god of War, also called Kral, Kullas, Lord of Battle, Master of Swords, Lord of Crows.

One of the Six Who Reign Above

His symbol is the sword, or in the North the battle axe. He is often depicted as a great lord in glittering armor or a bare chested bloody barbarian. Though not given mastery of the skies he is sometimes worshipped as god of thunder and lightning and also on cold, desolate places.

Krolos has a strange duality. He is a once a symbol of the strategy of war. The calm thinker and planner. The embodiment of the nobility of battle.

But, he is also war's ruthlessness and brutality. Those filled with the blood rage of battle are said to be possessed by Krolos.

Most of the early tales of Krolos revolve around his great battles with giant beasts of legend or other gods themselves.

One such battle involves the birth of the place known as the Sundered Hills. Legend has it, long ago Krolos, the Lord of Battle, went to Vaul, the Maker of Things. Krolos asked Vaul to make him a great war hammer that would be the envy of all who beheld it. Vaul agreed, and labored many days and nights to complete it. When the hammer was done, Krolos stared in wonder at its beauty and might. Vaul asked for payment. Still in awe, Krolos said he would pay anything for it. Vaul asked for the hand of Valena, goddess of love, and sister to Krolos.

Snapped from his trance by these words, Krolos laughed and refused Vaul his payment. The god of the Forge was enraged and snatched back the hammer. The two fought.
Their battle spilled into our world. They wasted the land in their struggle, and thus the Sundered Hills were born.
Children of Krolos are the great heroes of old. Thurn the Splitter, Ulkess of Arnar, Goroth the Mighty and Kell the Black to name a few. 
Paladins of Krolos always are at the head of every battle line. His clerics bless the common soldiers before every fight. Both are always where the fighting is thickest.
After the battle, it is said the Lord of Crows walks the corpse strewn field selecting bravest for his blessings. Krolos's daughters take the souls of the bravest warriors to serve as his own bodyguard. They spend an eternity feasting and fighting.
Whether common soldier or emperor, Krolos is an indifferent master. He only rewards the brave and the bold with victory. Cowardice leads only to his punishment.

A well used shield most likely carried by the 8th Legion of the Carro Dynasty, proudly emblazoned with the sword of Krolos.

Ul-Merr

Ul-Merr
Known as the Lord of the Sea, also called Murr, Urras, Deep Father, Master of the Depths, Master of Storms and the Taker.
One of the Six Who Reign Below
His symbol is the trident, or the kraken. He is often depicted as a bare chested, green bearded man or a great merman or squid.

Ul-Merr is brother to Arnor. To him was given mastery of the seas. As Arnor is distant and aloof, Ul-Merr is rash and inconstant as the sea. He may speed a ship along its way with gentle winds, or just as easily smash it against the rocks.
Seafarers often affix his symbol to the prows of their ships with three nails. Three being Ul-Merr's sacred number. Cautious captins make three sacrifices before each voyage. First is a gift of gold, as Ul-Merr delights in shiney objects. Second is a gift of food. The third must be a gift of blood. It is said, those who die at sea, become servants of the sea god, denied passage to Gates of Morr. Thus, one of his names id the Taker.

Ul-Merr has taken no wife. Instead he delights in enticing mortal women. He rarely stays long enough to see the birth of his offspring. Many women die giving birth to a demi-god. Those progeny that survive often become lesser gods of rivers and springs, most with their father's temper.

When not bedding mortal women or smashing ships, Ul-Merr hunts the depths for those vestiges of the dark gods. Mammoth creatures of the deep.

Gods and Goddesses

In the beginning, the primordial World was ruled by the Old Ones. Dark gods of chaos, ever changing as the planet itself. They were entropy and darkness incarnate. Then, came the One. The One was a light in the darkness. The One fought the dark gods and destroyed them. But, in the battle, the One became fractured, some say wounded. Depending on which priest you ask, the One either bled twelve single drops of blood onto the now stable world, or split into twelve pieces.
These twelve pieces became the pantheon of today. They are known as the "Twelve-Who-Are-One", or more often "The Six who Reign Above and the Six who Reign Below".
These gods have many aspects of themselves, versions that represent different things to different peoples and races. They have many names. In the Empire, Krolos is the god of War. To the men of North, the Thundri, he is Kral, god of War but also of Winter, and cold forgotten places.
The priests would have us believe they take very active roles in our lives. Their works, they say, are all around us.
Most adventurers will tell you they have seen many strange things. A whispered prayer that saved them from a dark beast. A talisman that holds back the dead.
To begin, we should start with the Father...

Arnor
Known as the Father, also called Aenir, Aesirah, the Lord of the Heavens, the Sun King and the Traveler.
One of the Six Who Reign Above.
His symbol is the sun and stars. He is often depicted as bearded man crossed with a sun, or wind manifested as face blowing clouds.

Arnor was first to rise from the One's ashes. As such, he chose mastery over the sky, the air and the sun. And with it he became Lord of Light. He is also master of Order and Law.
Travelers often pray to him to light their way, but it might just as often be a farmer, praying for good weather. But Arnor is an aloof god, as befits his station, distant from the world of men, He is neutral in his stance and really only intervenes when the forces of Chaos might prevail.
Many a priest or paladin chosen by Arnor spend their lives tested by their faith. The Sun King does not shower his faithful in gifts, but those who stay in his service often become those heroes of history.
Long ago, when the Empire was born, the first Emperors chose Arnor as their symbol. Even though Emperors through the ages have added their sigil to the Imperial standard, it is always surmounted by the sun of Arnor.
Arnor's wife is Nyalla, the Mother. As Arnor is master of those things above, she holds sway over those below. Theirs is a contentious marriage, as anyone who has witnessed a tornado or earthquake will tell you.