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The guards of Midden Moat didn’t realise the hoard was upon them until too late. Certainly they, alongside the elite troops of Frostmere had protected the border into The Riverhold for centuries holding back the loose-knit, untrained goblin and orc-kin that called the wildlands of The Pales home. But Frostmere had fallen ten days earlier. So utterly destroyed that not a single runner escaped to provide warning to Midden Moat.

Normally a warband or two of orcs and goblins would have been no match for the Riverguard of Midden Moat but this horde moved with skill, with discipline, it moved with purpose. Midden Moat fell within hours and the horde was free to cross now unprotected borders.

Since then the towns of Valeyard, Newhaven and Winterburn have fallen. No one knows of the fate of the city of wizards, Mistralstone. Certainly none of them appear to be a part of the line of refugees that you are with filing through the gates of the castle-town of Motte Vydiana.

It has been a long walk to Motte Vydiana and although you come from the different towns that have fallen across the north the six of you have formed a loose friendship along the way. As the sun sets you are ushered into a packed courtyard. The last of the refugees that the Castle-town can hold, at least within its walls. Many hundreds of refugees are left to set up camp outside the walls of the city. . . . .

Mythgaard

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