After spending a night where the temperature dropped to below freezing, you awaken to another bleak grey dawn.
After eating a hurried breakfast you pack up and are on your way. The day is overcast, and a damp breeze blows out of the southeast. There is still a foot of snow on the ground.
After being on the road for two hours you crest a low rise and see a shallow valley open up before you. The road that you are on descends into this valley. Flowing down the centre of it - the valley, that is - is a large river. At the point where this road meets the river, four other ways also converge. At this point is a large city, spanning both sides of the river and connected by a great bridge. Out of the east side of the city runs a single road...curving slightly to the south-southeast.
While you are still some dozen miles from the city, you immediately note the absence of any smoke whatsoever from its industries or its citizen's cooking fires.
"That's Frawnaford," says McTavish, pointing. "The Cursed city. I'm glad we're approaching it in daylight. I've heard that it is not a place to be in when night falls. Geeyap, ye bastards!" he says to his mules.
You move forward into the valley of the River Frawna.
By late morning you are approaching the first buildings of the ruined city. Unlike the other derelict towns and cities that you have passed through on your long journey eastwards, the buildings here seem to be in very good condition...almost as if they had only been left yesterday...
"Thay's part of the curse," McTavish says, when one of you comments on this. "When Imrimil invaded Nolthen he met with little resistance...until he got to Frawnaford. The people and the garrison put up such a spirited defence that the Witch Lord's forces were stopped cold. He was obliged to come here himself...and he unleashed all of the forces of the weather at his command on the city. I can remember me grand daddy tellin' me about watchin' the assault...from Kludar...hundreds of miles away. The sky was lit up with lightning, and the thunder made our halls shake.
"Finally, the city fell, but that was not enough for Imrimil. He laid a curse on the city an' its people for their resistance an' for upsettin' his timetable. Each day Frawnaford is an empty ruin, like we see it. But by night, it...fades...an' its inhabitants walk the streets, slaying any living creature they meet."
He stops and looks around, before entering the city proper.
"Now who's that?" he asks, looking back up the road to the west.
The rest of you turn and look as well.
Miles off, atop the low rise where you paused two hours ago, you can just make out the silhouette against the grey clouds of several people mounted on horses, observing the city ahead of them...and perhaps you as well.
Looking to the group upon the rise, Aldarin squints and mutters, "I suggest we find out who this is that is travelling behind us. It doesn't seem like they are attempting to hide their presence, but sometimes the best place to hide is in the open."
"Have any of you picked up any scrying spells while we were training? I am curious as to what those people are wearing, and if there are any mages with them. Otherwise, we should ignore them for now." Illyana pauses. "Let's get through the city, and see if they follow us."
"Yes I say we depart the city and maybe a couple of people could circle back to check these guys out? What I would not give for a spyglass right now!"
Britan reigns his horse around in preparation to depart.
You wheel about and ride on into Frawnaford, losing sight of the people on the ridge as you do so.
As you noted earlier, the city is remarkably intact, its streets lined with buildings housing shops and other businesses, along with guilds, temples and other places whose original purpose is not clearly evident. The place is completely empty, though...and unnervingly eerie as a result.
You do not tarry.
At last you come to a large square at the foot of the great bridge which spans the River Frawna. Here the roads that you observed earlier meet. Out of the northwest comes a Great Road, and another comes out of the southwest and crosses the bridge to the east. Lesser roads run north and south...and west, too.
There is a signpost...though it - seemingly alone in this city - is battered.
The Great Western Road: East: To Castle Braboth, Yorkk and the Old Border Post.
Southwest: To Morgrath, Grorgant and Shruddup.
The Grey Road: Northwest: To
North: To
South: To Goblin Fort.
West: To Baronia and Dispairia.
You rejoin the Great Western Road and head east, across the bridge.
It consists of many spans and is over 1.5 miles long. Like the rest of the city it is in excellent condition.
On the other side of the river is a smaller square and the eastern half of Frawnaford. You hurry through it, and by early afternoon are leaving it behind.
McTavish heaves a sigh of relief.
There is no sign of the people you saw earlier.
By evening you are well away from the city, and the road is curving southeastward.
Looking back, though, you see a faint greyish glow reflected off of the clouds over where Frawnaford lies.
There is still no sign of anyone following you.
Curious to learn more about the cursed city, Raz turns to McTavish and asks, "Do you know of anything that can be done to help the people of that city?"
McTavish shrugs.
"Killing Imrimil would be a good place to start," he says.
"But would he not simply come back, stronger than before? I do not know if it was you or Ray Jay who told me that the Wizards are immortal. Is there any way to truly slay them?" asks Farad.
"Must be, if the legends are true," the dwarf replies. "It's told that at the battle of Lake Ringdoom during the War of the Stones, several Wizards on both sides perished permanently. Of course...it was other Wizards what did the killin'."
"Not my type of town", Humphrey says, looking back at the glowing clouds. "McTavish what do you know about Castle Braboth and Yorkk and what is the Old Border?"
"Braboth is a ruin...I think," replies the dwarf. "Yorkk is another ruined city...but not cursed like Frawnaford. Hmmm...maybe we'll strike it rich again!" he adds, rubbing his hands, then he grows solemn again.
"The Old Border was the entrance into Kludar...until Imrimil invaded and drove us back."
"So how close are we to the current borders?" asks Illyana.
"Not sure. I ain't been there for over 30 years. If the lines haven't moved since then, then I'd guess a day or so past the Old Border. We're still a week or two from the Old Border...longer if you stop to train again," he adds with a grin.
"So Braboth and Yorkk are where the old border used to be and how far was or is where you are trying to get to?" asks Britan.
"No...the Old Border is where the old border was," says McTavish. "I'm headin' home: the Halls of Pittsburk."
You make camp and post watches.
The night passes quietly.