A Messenger Arrives from Y’hesfyre
Not long after their arrival, the heavy wooden gates creaked open once more, and a hush fell over the gathered warriors and scouts. A lone figure strode into the fort’s courtyard, her movements swift and precise, her presence commanding attention. She was an elf, tall and slender, clad in a deep green cloak woven with silver threads that shimmered in the flickering torchlight. Her auburn hair, streaked with silver, was pulled into a loose braid, strands escaping to frame sharp, angular features. Keen emerald eyes flickered with intelligence as they scanned the gathered onlookers before settling on the adventurers.
“I bring word from Y’hesfyre,” she announced, her voice clear and steady. “I am Sylrienne Frostbloom, ranger of the eastern watch. There is trouble in the peaks.”
The murmurs of onlookers swelled, whispers passing between elven rangers and druids. Faylen stepped forward, narrowing her eyes. “Y’hesfyre? I thought it was still in the process of being established.”
Sylrienne nodded. “It is, but we could not afford to wait. The frozen peaks are restless, and the disturbances have grown more concerning with each passing day.”
Marcho’s Instant Infatuation
Before anyone could respond, Marcho Longbottom suddenly straightened his posture, smoothing his tunic and flashing what he undoubtedly thought was a roguish smile. He took an exaggerated step forward, placing a hand over his heart and bowing low. “A pleasure, my lady. Marcho Longbottom, at your service. A humble rogue, but one always eager to assist a damsel in distress.”
Faylen groaned audibly, rolling her eyes so hard that even Nayzungit raised an eyebrow. Makhulim chuckled under his breath but said nothing.
Sylrienne arched a delicate brow, a flicker of amusement passing over her expression. “I assure you, Master Halfling, I am no damsel in need of rescue. If anything, it is your assistance I seek.”
Marcho’s grin faltered for a split second before he recovered. “Of course, of course. Assisting brave and beautiful rangers is a specialty of mine.”
Faylen folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Marcho, please. Let the woman speak.”
The Dire Warning
Sylrienne turned to the group, her smirk fading into a more serious expression. “Y’hesfyre was established to keep watch on the frozen peaks, but something has stirred within them. Patrols have reported strange movements, massive figures in the snow, and eerie sounds that do not belong to any creature we know.”
Nayzungit frowned. “You suspect giants?”
Sylrienne exhaled, glancing toward the mountains looming in the distance. “It is possible. The patrols that returned spoke of silhouettes, too large to be mortal men, moving against the icy cliffs. If they are Frost Giants, it means something is drawing them southward.”
Makhulim tightened his grip on his axes. “Giants, ye say? Haven’t cracked a giant skull in some time.” He glanced at the others. “What’s the plan, then?”
The Journey Ahead
Sylrienne gestured toward a map unfurled on a nearby wooden table, tracing her finger along the dense forest eastward. “Y’hesfyre is still a fledgling outpost. We have limited supplies, and our numbers are not yet strong. If there is a threat looming in the mountains, we need to act swiftly.”
She looked at the party with measured determination. “I request that you travel to Y’hesfyre, resupply, and investigate the disturbances. The journey will take three days through treacherous terrain.”
Faylen leaned in, studying the route. “These trails—are they safe?”
Sylrienne hesitated. “Not entirely. There are old hunting paths, but the deeper we go, the more unpredictable the wilderness becomes. Unnatural stillness has settled over parts of the forest, and I do not believe it to be mere coincidence.”
Makhulim’s eyes gleamed. “Sounds like a challenge. We’re in.”
The Weight of the Task
Nayzungit placed a hand on his chin in thought. “If these are Frost Giants, they may not be alone. This could be the stirrings of something greater.”
Sylrienne nodded. “That is my fear as well. We need to know what we are facing before it is too late.”
Marcho, finally turning his attention back to the matter at hand, clapped his hands together. “Well then, no time like the present! What say we head to this Y’hesfyre and prepare to crack some giant skulls?”
Makhulim grinned, gripping the hilts of his twin axes. “Aye, laddie. Let’s go find us some trouble.”
Sylrienne offered a small smile. “Then let us make ready. The fate of Y’hesfyre—and perhaps all of Y’hserin—may depend on what we uncover in those peaks.”
