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After five years, our heroes returned to Pinefarrow, the small town where they all grew up. It was not a happy return, however, as Sir Bryce Greenwood had died from illness in the years before, leaving only a letter and a cryptic warning. Traveling to his ancestral tower, they found the building overrun by goblins, and housing an enraged chimera in the caverns below. Clearing the tower, the heroes discovered a secret chamber in Sir Bryce's library, and his final note. An ominous red light in the sky sent them back to Pinefarrow in haste, only to find the town burning, under attack by a figure that appeared to be their old childhood friend Astara.

Bryce's First Letter Edit

My Dear Stormhawks,

Never in this long life was I more proud or sorrowful than that day I watched you all set off on adventures of your own. Since the time you were hardly more than children, each of you has shone with such hope, such determination, such promise that never once did I doubt that some day you would journey to make the world your own. Growing up, I taught you all as best I could, and though I was no great teacher you were each eager learners. Each story I told of my adventures imparted on you the lessons you would need to become adventurers of your own. In the five years since we last parted, I know that that spark of adventure within each of you has been forged into the soul of a hero.

I am dying. In truth, I was dying before you even left, but I said nothing. I would not have deprived any of you the chance to pursue your destinies with worry. I apologize that I could find no better way to tell you than this, but we take what Pellenor gives us. Still, I had hoped that my illness would not claim me before you returned, and I could give you what I had promised in person. Alas, it will not be so, and so I entrust my words and my gift to Bartell Brewer to give to you upon your return.

When you left, I told you that upon your return we would embark together on a grand adventure. Now that I am gone, I entrust that task to you. You must return to my tower, where you spent so many hours of your youth, and look in the library, where you spent so few. Find the secret within. Dark tidings approach. Trust in yourselves. Trust in each other.

Sir Bryce Greenwood

Bryce's Second Letter Edit

My Dear Stormhawks,

I trust you found my chamber without too much difficulty. I apologize for the subterfuge, but I could not risk my words falling into the wrong hands, even if they are as well-meaning as Bartell Brewer's. Dark times approach, and we must be more cautious than ever before.

Though I told you many tales of my adventuring days, I never told you of my companions or the reason we set out together. There were five of us originally, and though others would come and go over the years those five remained united by common purpose and the bonds of lifelong friendship. I was a young knight-errant, not untested yet by no means an experienced adventurer. With me were Alrik the Helmcleaver, a dwarven warrior and outcast of Thorborimm; Silverfox, elven priestess; Feargal Devitt, a thief; and Alastair Alban, guildmage of the High College. Together, we called our company the Stormhawks, after the hero of old. Thus also my name for you all as you grew, my little Stormhawks. In those days, all of Prydain lived in fear, for the dukedom was under the control of the Witch-King Balor. The five of us swore an oath to defeat the fiend and free our land, and though it cost us dearly, we succeeded. Silverfox, who was by then my wife, and Feargal were dead. Alrik was at last able to return to his home. Alastair disappeared. I came back here, to my ancestral home, and though the injuries I sustained would never allow me to adventure again I found new purpose in taking care of a vagrant band of youth.

Two years before you departed, I learned of troubling signs, the sort that had not been seen since Balor was defeated. Your training began in earnest that day. Each day I would teach you what I could, and each night I poured over all the knowledge I had collected here, wrote to learned men and old companions, sought answers. Years I researched, even after you had left. Only a month before I write this now, I at last made a breakthrough. A hidden vault deep in the Bleakheather Forest that promised answers, a means to prevent the Witch-King's return. I readied myself to depart, yet my injuries of old and my illness failed me. I am all but bed-ridden now, unable to face this task that should have been my duty. I leave this map to you, my young Stormhawks. Find this vault, learn what it holds, and complete the quest we started so many years before.

That is not all I leave to you, however. Though I never claimed it in life, I was a Baronet of Prydain. This tower, and all the lands surrounding it, were my birthright. Though once I dreamed of passing that title down to Silverfox and my children, I could ask for no worthier heirs than all of you. I hereby name the eight of you heirs to my land and titles. This tower, and all that is within it, is yours, as are the responsibilities of your position. Serve your people, and all of Prydain, first and foremost; serve your Duke; serve the rightful King of Avalon, should one ever return. Never forget what I have told you.

My hand grows unsteady. I must rest.

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