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"The bulk of our people will stay behind. Thank you; please lead the way."

As the chieftain and his close confidantes were led into the village, they tentatively flung pebbles at any shadar-kai who came close enough. Feeling like they had stepped into some sort of bizarre dream, they followed Gedo-mar to the center of the town.

Tahns grant me fortune, Veros grant me luck, the elder prayed silently.

Then he threw the squirrel he had captured at the leader's chest.

The eladrin was not sure if Shad-Oro was asking why they had come here, or why they had chosen to ride horses instead of walking. He decided to answer both, just in case.

"We left our home seeking a place to live. Our homeland has grown too crowded, and our old friends have turned against us. We saw-for our holy men can see all that the sun can see-that there was another people in the world, and decided to build our new home nearby, in hopes of becoming friends."

As he spoke, he studied the thronw Shad-Oro was impaled on. This was quite anomolous. Later on, once the trust of these deranged creatures had been earned, he would ask about it.

"I am Chief Anurin. May the gods favor you and all your people."

"Eased your lord's pain? This sounds an important tale. Perhaps you can tell us your story, and I will tell you ours?"

Khuros and his three companions, a priestess, a wizard with no magic, and swordsage, left their encampment and headed south towards the red light that remained in the air to the south. The group made their way through the Golden Hills, fighting off several bands of halfling raiders was they began to enter the wilderness.

It had been difficult for Khuros to gain leave for the journey. The Dark Child had not been hear from for years. The wizards suspected the loss of their magic had also affected the S'kre, as magic was his only means of communication. Thus the war effort had fallen to Khuros and leaving the war on the quest would endanger his troops. Still, his commanders were able and he had given them orders to be defensive until he had gotten back. In addition, Khuros wondered what would happen if somehow the Dark Child regained contact. Surely his anger would be so great the general would find himself dead, or worse.

As the group went further south the climate turned colder, and the angle of the sun more obtuse. The wilderness was thick forests and woodlands for much of this journey. Pekast, the swordsage, was the best at traveling through the wilderness among the frost giants. It was he who warned Khuros the group was being followed, though it was not the halflings or the dwarves. Khuros opinion of the matter was simple, “then we will have to stay ahead of them.”

They continued on and the trees began to thin and the grass to disappear. The landscape grew increasingly raw and vacant with naked rocks showing through the ground, frequently covered in a fungus. The companions stopped for rest in this land. There was mold and rocks all around but little else. The mold was increasing in density.

Suddenly a shrieking noise pierced the quiet calm. Khuros covered his ears reflexively. Then another shrieking noise, and another still. “What is this!” the wizard screamed, barely audible over the screeching.

Khuros tried to formulate an answer, but found his world beginning to spin. Something was affecting his senses, making it hard to stand and see straight. He began to experience a sharp headache that consumed his thoughts. Something was attacking the group but he could not see any creature. Then the swordsage drew his sword and lashed out, hitting a rock with mold on it. The mold was cut but quickly regrew into a tentacle and attacked grabbing the sword. “It's the mold!” the swordsage screamed.

Fortunately, the pain in his head ceased. The S'kre priestess, Alethia, had managed to prayer to Vimryl for protection against the mind attacks. Khuros could now see clearly, and it wasn't good. The mold was beginning to clump together in different places, taking a form. The clumps grew tentacles that flayed at the giants. Hacking at them cut off the tentacles, but they only regrew back. Soon more and more tentacles appeared and began attaching themselves to the person, grabbing the arms and legs. Then, one of the tentacles grabbed Khuros's unprotected hand and recoiled at the cold touch. Khuros, seeing this realized the means of victory. “The mold hates frost!”

Khuros grabbed another tentacle with his bare hand and it whithered away under the cold. He soon cleared himself of the tentacles and helped the others free themselves as well. Still, they were surrounded by the mold blobs in all directions.

“Alethia,” Khuros said. “Cast an ice spell on us.”

The priestess thought for a moment. She then prayed to Vimryl to give the group his protection and her hands began to glow. She then touched the other three frost giants and their skin became cold and frozen, even their weapons became icy. Wherever the frost giants touched, the mold died or retreated.

Khuros ordered the group to move, there would be no time for rest. They continued to travel south and the mold creatures followed, threatening them and occasionally attacking them. The companions were able to beat them back with their ice though. Eventually the mold grew less common and the creatures retreated. The land became completely barren with no life at all. Finally, they reached the end of the continent, and only a great ocean stood before them. There was no material around with which to create a boat, and the goddess had said Khuros could not use a berg-ship. Yet the red sky was still to the south, across that ocean.

The violence that shook the world was terrifying. The Warforged, for all their military training, were terrified. The Observer had rallied them, given them hope as a whole, but others were unconvinced. There was fear- an emotion that they had not experienced before. They feared that the moss-creatures would kill them. What was more, they feared that Nocturne had created the monsters, as The Observer implied. If Nocturne was capable of such spectacular violence, who knows what it could do to the Warforged, who had failed in their assault. Would it slaughter them, too?

Fear drives people to do insane things. Although Warforged clung to notions of superiority, they could be driven to extremes by fear just as easily as any other race could. It was just this insanity that caused several Warforged to do the unthinkable- abandon the group, and sneak off into the darkness. They had no idea where they were going, but they knew they didn't want to be in the midst of the other Warforged when the moss-creatures decided to slaughter them. And so, without any destination, a group of about twenty Warforged stole into the night, looking for a new place that they could call home.