Toll of the Dead

Disaster / Destruction

Reports throughout Varisia (and possibly further) indicated that people heard the sound of a gong. A moment later, a spectral clock would appear behind victims who seem to be momentarily frozen in time, their faces locked in terror as they stared at some unseen horror. The victims then vanished without a trace. The source of the gong, and the location of the victims, are unknown.

An excerpt from "A Fisherman's Bounty:"  

(Imagine, if you will: A quaint wooden cabin nestled amidst the lush greenery of Sanos Forest, north of the Mushfens and east of Magnimar. The sun begins its descent, casting a warm golden glow over the surrounding landscape. The air is filled with the scent of the nearby river and chirping birds.)   The day had been kind to the five companions who now trudged wearily toward their humble cabin, their fishing rods slung over their shoulders. Each of them carried a woven basket laden with a variety of shimmering fish—a testament to their triumph over the cunning creatures of the river.   In the lead, with a grin etched upon his weathered face, was Tavin, a jovial man known for his tall tales and knack for catching the biggest fish. He rubbed his hands together, relishing in the success of the day's haul. "Ah, my friends, another glorious day on the water! I tell ya, those fish didn't stand a chance against my mighty fishing rod!" he exclaimed, punctuating his words with a hearty laugh.   Elara, a nimble archer with fiery red hair, chuckled at Tavin's boast. "Well, Tavin, let's hope your fishing tales don't grow as much as the fish you claim to catch. Otherwise, we'd need a bigger cabin to store them all!"   Laughter filled the air as Grimsby, the group's solemn yet wise old soul, chimed in. "Aye, but Tavin's right about one thing. The river's been generous to us today. The fish will make for a hearty feast tonight."   As they reached the cabin, Sylas, the mischievous rogue with eyes that sparkled like emeralds, took the lead, hopping up the wooden steps. "Well, let's not waste any time, my friends! I'll get the fire started while you lot clean the fish. And don't forget to save some for tomorrow morning's breakfast. We'll need a good meal before we make our way to Magnimar. We’ve got baubles to sell!"   With the scent of fish still clinging to their hands, the companions set to work, their banter blending with the rhythmic sound of knives on wooden boards. As they worked, they discussed the unsettling rumours circulating in the kingdom—the whispers of a long-lost wizard, a runelord some had called him, rumoured to be plotting a return to power.   Adeline, the serene herbalist, paused and glanced up, her eyes filled with concern. "I've heard tales of this runelord. They say he possesses ancient magic and an unstoppable giant army. If the rumors hold true, there could be some dark times ahead."   The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across their faces as they shared their worries. The air grew heavy with unease, each companion contemplating the potential threats lurking beyond the safety of their cabin.   Suddenly, the tranquillity was shattered by a deafening sound—a gong reverberating through the forest. It pierced their ears like a blade, causing them to wince and clutch their heads in pain.   "What in the name of the gods was that?" Tavin exclaimed, his voice tinged with fear. A flicker of uncertainty replaced the jovial twinkle in his eyes.   Before they could respond, their attention was drawn to a sight that chilled their hearts. Two of their companions—Elara and Sylas—stood frozen, their expressions locked in shock as if time had come to a standstill. The spectral face of a large clock appeared behind them so quickly the others were unsure it had even happened. And then, in an instant, they vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind.   Fear gripped the remaining three, their eyes wide with disbelief and terror. They exchanged frantic glances, their voices trembling as they whispered, "What just happened? Where did they go?"   The trio searched the countryside, hoping to find some sign of what had caused the sound of the gong. They met a hunter who shared a similar story to their own. He and his party heard the gone, the clocks appeared, and all four vanished. That same story was echoed throughout Varisia, with no answers coming. Was this the opening salvo from the rumoured runelord? Or was this an attack from some other, unseen source?