Return of the Lost Lord

At the Wall

When the horde finally appeared, it was a conglomeration of all things unholy, risen from their graves. The fear was seeping into everyone, causing a break down in order. A man, with half his face scarred, was barking some advice, he seemed to know a bit about the mob we were facing. Firing everything I had seemed to have no effect on them. By the time the horde reached the walls, most defenders had fled. The disfigured man, a human monk, and a halfling seemed competent, and likely provided the best chance at living through this mess. When the horde did break through the gate, the skill of the group showed. Then the unholy artillery fell, giant carcasses awash in blue flame. Burning where it hit, causing us to fall back as well. As the horde advanced so did the artillery, we could no longer avoid it, in what I thought was our last moments, an angel of Moradin saved us, she could have only been crafted of the finest materials by him alone. Revived from her presence, she directed us to the capitol, and it was to there we made haste. -Smokejack

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