Carnival of the Apocalypse - Mists of Ravenloft


Rath Feldspar pulled the hood of his threadbare cloak lower over his brow in an effort to mitigate the effects of the stinging wind and the sub-zero temperatures of the forsaken mountain pass he found himself in. At least the wolves no longer trailed him as he ascended higher and higher into the nameless mountains.

Feldspar was no longer a young or even middle-aged dwarf however, and this was beginning to have a telling effect on his progress along the trail. His memory hadn’t been as sharp as it once was either, and he cursed himself for a fool for allowing himself to become so hopelessly lost. He had to get back to the carnival. He had matters to attend to and a show to put on for the villagers of Red March… no, that wasn’t it. What was the name of that pleasant little town again?

His legs creaked and ached with every step now, and he could feel the first signs of frostbite numbing his fingers and toes as icicles formed on his bushy beard. Feldspar was not dressed for the winter, but it had been spring, he could have sworn… when he left the encampment. Why had he left and to what purpose? Feldspar could not remember no matter how hard he concentrated, a feat which was becoming increasingly difficult as he trudged forward and the snow began to fall in earnest.

The old dwarf knew he had to find shelter, and soon, or succumb to the elements. Just as things seemed hopeless in that regard, he spied what looked like carvings in the face of the mountainside ahead, fifty feet tall at least and set into alcoves. Hooded figures, cloaked and cowled, hands clasped before them in prayer, and carved of solid amber if Feldspar’s old eyes did not deceive him.

More importantly however was the yawning archway between the two innermost statues… a doorway into the mountain and out of the fearsome storm. Thoughts of what might wait within bothered Feldspar briefly, and he longed for the days when he could wield a battle axe like an extension of his hands. Feldspar was unarmed though save for a dagger, and if he stayed outside he would surely perish. With grim determination, his mind made up, he entered the amber archway and descended into darkness…


No, not Rath! Be careful, old dwarf!

TrollishMcTroll TrollishMcTroll

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