Three enterprising adventurers wandered into an abandoned graveyard, following a hunch that there was treasure to be found. Unfortunately, they found a horde of recently unearthed corpses instead. Even more unfortunate was the the fact that it soon became evident that the corpses had unearthed THEMSELVES, and they seemed… hungry.
A fierce battle ensued, during which the three sellswords later known as the Rovers of the Vale proved their valor and their cohesion as a team. Now Ghesh Whitescale, "Knives" Smugbottom, and the mysterious mage known only as Veesha struggled through the dangerous wilderness, hindered by their wounds and the strange, unfamiliar terrain. As the darkness of another cold night fell, wolves began to howl in the distance. A faint glimmer of hope remained- if they were swift, the small band of mercenaries might just find refuge with the enigmatic cleric rumored to live somewhere within the nearby woods.
After being set upon by a pack of ferocious wolves, the party managed to escape to the relative safety of Shalzar Hellwhisper's hut. The reclusive cleric of the Raven Queen offered them aid, and none too soon, for Veesha had been grievously wounded. As the cold of winter settled in, Shalzar offered them lodging in his spartan but secure home.
Success and safety were theirs- but for how long?