On a moonless night the land of Blackmoor slumbers. The villages rest without a care in the world. The three Kingdoms lie in peaceful undisturbed bliss and many towns and cities rest quietly. All seems serene in this vast land, but a plan that has been decades in the making is about to be unfolded and change all that this land has ever know. That moonless night hundreds of ships creep to the coastline, huge towering figures rush the beach. Some carrying axes others swords and some there are many that carry bundles of long pole bound in black cloth. Thousands of huge figures line the beach of Blackmoor as more ships approach the coast. There is chanting and loud cries heard among these hulking figures Then all goes quiet as one tall figure sets foot on the the beach. All kneel down and bow their heads as the figure raises raises huge double edged ax and lets our a loud blood chilling cry. Then the ax is lowered and set upon the ground. The huge figure addresses the assembled masses.
My brethren tonight we change the face of this land and all see. The crowd cries out with deep bellowing screams and then goes silent again. The figure resumes. Tonight we have come together, all tribes and clans, for on purpose and one purpose only and that is to take what is rightfully ours. We are the stronger superior race and tonight we will show this wretched land and all beyond it how superior we are. My brethren go forth and color the ground red with blood, crush all who oppose you, for tonight I Kryax saith the hour is neigh for the minotaur to reign and dominate. This is our land now and all who dare to challenge us shall paint the ground with their own blood. I Kryax saith let us be heard and let all feel our might and the might of the Minotaur race. Screams and battle cries wail out into the night as the minotaurs charge in slaying men women and children. Houses and crops burned and the agony and suffering could be heard all through the land.
Four weeks later Kryax and his armies had conquered half the land. The dwarven armies from the mountains were trampled under hoof and ax, their survivors enslaved or retreated into hiding. The dwarf King's body hangs above the entrance to the once glorious kingdom of mountains.
Villages, towns, and cities laid to ruin. The vast armies slaughtered as Kryax's forces spread across the land like a plague. Even the wise elves were reduced to but only a handful of survivors. Blackmoor's last hope was the biggest and most powerful army of the land the armies of King Norvell, the ruler of the southern kingdom.
They engaged Kryax's forces on field of battle. The fighting went on for days, men and minotaur alike fell in battle. Just when King Norvells army had a ray of hope to be victorious, it was snuffed out like a candle in the breeze. Kryax himself and his six personal guards took to the field and began an assault like never before seen in Blackmoor. Raging through King Norvells armies cutting down soldiers like blades of wheat and sending a renewed feeling of ferocity through the other minotaurs, the army and King Norvell was defeated and so was any hope of surviving the siege on the land. Kryax took the southern kingdom for his own and for amusement he place King Norvells head on a pole affixed beside his throne.
A plea is sent out, carried by brave messengers that only travelled at night when it would be safer. The plea stated as follows: Unite and oppose this invasion. Bring your sick,your injured, your scared, women and children to the Temple in Hearth Valley. All able bodies bring your weapons and bravery, this maybe the last chance to take a valiant stand, but we must move quickly and unite as one, before the minotaurs reach the Hearth Valley. For those who do and do not know me I am the high cleric Rorick. may the gods be with you.
If nothing is done to stop this invasion and Kryax destroyed, then the land of Blackmoor is lost forever.
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