Slaughtering the denizens that occupied the crypt, you left the crippled and broken remains of phase spiders and shard golems in your wake. upon reaching the the bottom of the mausoleum, you finally found the tomb of elderlord vanthor of dyne. alas, to your surprise, it yielded no corporeal remains. instead, you found a shadowtouched wyrm-wraith feeding on corruption and darkness. upon its death, the force animating the drake leapt and bounded from corpse to corpse. this raw, dark energy was completely impervious to your meager weapons and, had it not been for the help of a peculiar stranger who, as a last resort, feasted on the creatures fel, you are quite sure you would not be here right now.

Upon responding to nigel’s invitation, you were introduced to one octavius scuttlebutt, a gnomish dealer of rare antiquities. the inkstained scroll found in the sewers beneath emberfast seems to have piqued his interest and, upon being translated, appears to be some sort of list. while most of the items make perfect sense, the essence of a dyne has left him puzzled. the dyne refers to an old lineage that used to hold power in this province many years ago. even the name, undyne still titles these lands, but the lineage is long since dead and gone. octavius has employed you to take a scouting mission to the ruins of wraithwood which holds the dynish lord’s mausoleum. upon reaching the crypt, you found that not everything was resting as expected.

What started as a simple drink at hammerhearth quickly took a turn for the worse and before you could shake yourself of the situation, you were shackled and escorted by the watch to the emberfast prison. only a few hours into your stay, you were singled out by a man named nigel and it was’t long until you were in the middle of a chaotic prison break from your unwarranted incarceration. traversing a ruined section of the cities sewers, you journeyed through bedeviled roots and animated sludge to a small service tunnel that opened into a cave. there you discovered a band of kobold’s dredging the waste for any valuables they could find. after making short work of them, you searched the corpses and discovered a tattered scroll, nestled among the debris. unfortunately, before you could get a chance, the document was snatched up by nigel and your inquiries to its nature were dashed, hinging on the urgency of your escape. as you surfaced into daylight, the fresh smell of pine did little to cut through your unmentionable stench. still, freedom never tasted so sweet and nigel offered a pint, pillow and the possibility of some paying work if you would meet him at a cruxwanes, a tavern located in the lower boroughs of emberfast.