Here we go. The first teaser for War of Nytefall: Eradication. No better place to start than the very beginning. Hope people enjoy these as they’ll be going from today through February and March. Plenty of time to see all the fun. As usual, there may be some minor spoilers behind the cut. No problem with this week and next because I’m grabbing from the prologue first. Enjoy.
After a month of the summer sun endlessly blazing overhead, the riverside town of Vorgabog is bathed in soothing shadows. With the air still muggy and thick, the locals try to take advantage of the cloud curtain that fills the sky. They hurry to gather water and complete the outdoor chores that they have been putting off until the deadly heatwave has passed. Carpenters wearing whatever they can throw on quickly continue building a sturdy port, which will help bring foreign merchants to the struggling region. Being careful not to fall into the scalding L’dandrin River, they use tethers that are held tight by powerful, gray-skinned orcs. The former bandits remain vigilant in protecting the carpenters and ignore the stares that their scar-covered bodies receive from the locals who are still getting used to their presence. Having fewer concerns than the adults, the children run along the dirt roads and leave trails of cough-inducing dust in their wake. Many gather to play games in the creaky husks of unfinished warehouses that will eventually create a semicircle barrier around Vorgabog. Throughout it all, the populace keeps an eye on the sky in case the weather makes a sudden change and they are forced to return to their homes.
Whistles and shouts erupt from the western side of town as a band of farmers sprint through the woods with armfuls of their withered crops. The children at the edge of town are the first to notice that the clouds are gradually dissipating and it will not be long before they are exposed to the unforgiving sun once more. Refusing to give up on their fun, they rush into town and sing a song about winter that descends into a symphony of giggles. With a chorus of groans and complaints, the carpenters quickly get their work to a point where they can easily continue during the next reprieve. Those who have already finished their chores help search for children and make sure none are going to be left out in the brutal heat. Tensions mount as the clear sky gets closer and a wall of heat can be seen rising from the western wilderness. Animals run through Vorgabog to find cooler hiding places with many of them heading away from the river, which continues to emit plumes of steam. Within minutes, all of the people have returned to their homes or gone to the taverns, which have boarded their windows to prevent them from being opened to the sun by a drunken patron. Only a few lizards that have been enjoying the heatwave remain on the streets, which continue to bake and crack.
Nobody is around when the clouds roll away from the sun and a lone figure walks out of the forest. The bald dwarf is wearing platemail, which has the symbol of a demon-winged sun on its chest. There is not a single drop of sweat on his body and he casually gazes at the sky without bothering to shield his eyes from the blinding light. At first glance, he looks fairly young with his black beard that has been divided into four luxurious braids. Yet, his eyes hold an exhaustion that causes the stocky traveler to permanently have the expression of an old man. Walking through an empty warehouse that is missing two of its walls, he repeatedly touches the various objects on his body as if making sure nothing has been lost. While he gingerly pats his green-hued mace and sun-shaped shield, most of his attention goes to a leathery pouch on his hip. It is only when he steps onto the main street of Vorgabog that he relaxes and licks his moist lips. Catching his reflection in a recently filled water trough, he sighs at the smudges of dirt on his shoulder pads and takes out a rag to clean them. Not having any luck, he begrudgingly casts a spell that makes him look more presentable and swiftly prays to Durag the Sun God in the hopes of regaining the precious energy.
Feeling his stomach rumble, the dwarf sets his sights on the nearest tavern and sniffs the air in the hopes of discerning what food he may find inside. His dreams of vegetable stew and a slab of mutton are cut off when he enters the building and every head turns in his direction. Many simply scowl at how his arrival has let in a fresh gust of hot air, which threatens to undo the feeble cooling enchantments that the local casters have erected. Others notice the strange symbol on his chest and whisper about the possibility of him being the source of the brutal heatwave. It is only when the priest casts a spell that erases the mugginess in the tavern that the tension disappears and he is directed to a creaky stool at the bar. Before he can open his mouth, the traveler is given a bowl of soup that is nothing more than mildly flavored broth and five shriveled carrots. Not wanting to be rude, he smiles wide enough to reveal his teeth, which are all white except for one plaque-covered incisor. The tired bartender nods as the dwarf eats the soup, but she does not stay to talk due to everyone shouting for cold drinks.