grayshore

Bum. Bum. Bum. Bumm. The beat of the leather skin drum kept the oarsmen on The Leapin’ Lizard on rhythm and in tandem, though Jack Thacker had grown weary of it in recent weeks. He heard it in his sleep; at his meals; even on deck. The thumping echoed in Jack’s head like a permanent headache...

Grayshore The Allir Reach Early Morning The Sayve River had soured. Weeks ago the Dragon had completed a ritual to befoul the waters causing them to run black with decay and necrosis. The Dark Magic instilled in the waters of the sayve caused sickness where it spread, it could kill the weak...