30).
The Robe That Terror Wears
NOTE: These are adventure seeds and setting work for my own Hyperborea campaign inspired by the Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerors of Hyperborea Gazetteer
A
cold wind blows from the sea and with it she steps upon the shores of
Hyperborea. The storm walks with her and seeking life she brings the frozen
death to the land. Her touch is blue ice as are her eyes. Innocent, the curse
she bears is a slow moving doom that no spell, no sword can touch.
In
the frozen wasteland that she leaves behind her a shadow moves. Her tormentor
follows casting chains of ice upon the dead. To save the land is to save her
and face what she cannot.
Already
the path she has taken is filled with white death. Villages are stilled, silent
tombs whose doors are opening as a greater evil emerges into the cloud-wrapped
day. All is darkness as if evening had swallowed the noonday sun.
From
the northern shores of Hyperborea comes
the call for help as an endless winter begins to swallow the land. A woman
walks alone ahead of the desolation, but is she cause or merely, as she claims,
related by those few who have survived her encounter, merely a victim chased by
darkness, swallowed by madness and running, running, only a few paces before
the storm.
The
villages along the Striped Gulf beg for help as their neighbors are caught
within the approaching darkness. None have returned of all those who have
searched for answers. Only the woman who walks ahead of the storm.
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