The Iron Claw Leaves It's Mark - Prologue

The Iron Claw scouting party were pleasantly surprised, this was the first bit of action they had seen since their arrival in The New World. The past few months had been a struggle…

When they arrived, the initial trek through the ruins was fairly uneventful but spirits were high as they entered this new world. By the time they had left the ruins, spirits had dropped as the morose rubble that dotted the seemingly endless ruins had been broken by a flat grey lake that spread before the clan with no way of crossing in sight and some of the most immense mountains they had seen ever before them.

It wasn't too long before a ferry sailed past and they negotiated passage. The scouting parties had been sent ahead in each direction to find not only a suitable path but also a suitable campsite for the clan. They would scout for a day and come back after a day and report their findings so Berenger and the other leaders could choose a path forward. This meant the main clan had a minimum of 2 days between each move but time was used wisely hunting for food and making sure travel was efficient.

This slow progress lasted months. The snow at the top of the mountains was a deterrent for most of members of the Clan who had previously roamed forests, plains and deserts and had little provisions to deal with the extreme cold. The trek had led them around the base of the mountains, along the lake, and towards a river that allowed the whole clan a path through… 

The main clan were a day behind as the scouting party. Tomorrow they would turn around to report their progress. As they prepared to camp for the night, a scent and sound alerted Taverick Windhoof. The beastman was half dear, half man and had the keenest senses of all his kin in his old home of Harbridge in the Land of Lies.

There were 8 of them meaning the scouting party of 5 were outnumbered.. They had been watching the party for over an hour before regrouping. It was then that Taverick alerted the others to all he knew. The experienced hunters and fighters of Iron Claw now set their trap to wait for the inevitable attack.

The Bandits were on a patrol which was normally a boring affair. Most folk of Eastern Meridian were aware of what befell those that entered their territory. They had been surprised to see the camp being set up and carefully observed for some time before regrouping. They planned to attack and find out who these strangers were at the point of a knife.

The attack did not go as planned…

 for the Bandits…

The Iron claw scouting party quickly dispatched the first 2 bandits to attack. They were foolish enough to attack when only 4 members of the party were visible. Arrows made quick work of them but also gave away the archer's position. The fight was quick, but it felt good to the trained warriors of the scouting party as they flexed the skills that had been little used for the past months.

In the fray, one of the bandits managed to escape. Thinking quickly, the party split with 4 members tracking the bandit to where they were heading and 1 reporting back to the Clan.

It was 4 days before any word came back from the scouts that followed. Taverick Windhoof arrived at the Clan camp injured and breathing heavily. He had managed to escape the prison he was being held in within the Bandits hideout, the rest of the scouting party were still in captivity. They had been captured by a larger force after making their way into the hideout and setting off an alarm while doing reconnaissance.

The hideout was larger than most small towns with plenty of resources and natural defenses. As well as an unknown sized network of tunnels in one of the mountains.

Berengar, moved slowly yet purposefully. He grabbed his shield from where it hung in his tent. He would get his people back and secure a place to call home in this strange new land. Whatever gods this new world had, they were apparently smiling on him.

The smile he felt reflected on his own scarred visage.

He uttered a deep and booming command,

“Hy’vun Mozuug!”