The Party's experience in the following hours was far from pleasant as they desperately navigated through the labyrinthine sewers in an attempt to flee the city of Lunborn. The tunnels seemed to stretch on endlessly, engulfed in darkness and reeking of foul water. The only source of illumination came from the flickering torches they carried, casting eerie shadows on the damp walls. The constant dripping of water from the ceiling and the ominous cracks in the walls only heightened their unease, making them feel even more vulnerable in this subterranean underworld. Strange noises echoed from the depths of the tunnels, causing everyone's nerves to be on edge. Just when Gareth was beginning to question his sanity in this claustrophobic environment, a glimmer of light emerged, signaling the end of their arduous journey. As they approached, a thunderous roar filled the air, revealing that the sewers emptied into a vast river.

As they stepped outside, Gareth gasped for clean air filling his lungs with as much clean air as possible.

"I think my nose will never recover from that stench" Gareth complained and Frolkir nodded his head in agreement. 

As he glanced around, his eyes were met with a vast expanse adorned with majestic pine trees, stretching as far as the eye could see. This picturesque scene was a part of the enchanting forest that encircled the city of Lunborn. The towering trees cast long shadows, allowing only slivers of sunlight to dance upon the glistening surface of the nearby river. Oblivious to the impending peril that loomed over the world, the birds continued their melodious symphony, filling the air with their cheerful chirping. A gentle breeze whispered through the branches, causing the leaves to rustle in a harmonious chorus, adding to the serene ambiance of the surroundings.

"So was it worth the danger or did we risk our necks for nothing?" Frolkir asked.

"Our nose as well" Branwyne remarked.

"We shall see" Gareth said and with an extravagant move he removed the scroll and opened it for all of them to see.

The Legend of the Hercling

The Sword Hercling has inspired an abundance of Legends and Myths throughout history. This legendary weapon is said to possess such immense power that it can even defeat Xalvador, the formidable Lord of the Underworld. Among the renowned heroes of ancient times, the likes of Paromir, a demigod of great strength, and Aswald, the fearless slayer of demons and vanquisher of tyrants, are believed to have wielded this extraordinary sword. The tales of their heroic feats and the Sword Hercling's indomitable might continue to captivate the imaginations of people far and wide.

Is the existence of the Hercling a mere myth or a reality? Perhaps it was merely a clever ploy employed by the ancient Kings to manipulate the masses into fighting for their cause. The truth remains elusive, leaving us with unanswered questions. After all, who wouldn't be enticed by the allure of a sword possessing such immense power? With the ability to conquer entire kingdoms and shape empires, it becomes a tantalizing prospect that captures the imagination of many.

Curious minds may inquire about the whereabouts of this legendary sword, you might ponder. Alas, if only I possessed the knowledge of its location, would I be dedicating my time to penning this parchment? I dare say not. Instead, I would ascend to the pinnacle of power, reigning as the undisputed sovereign over the entire globe and the vast expanse of the seven seas.

But I could tell you where the most likely location of the sword is. On the peak of the Mountain Aresmore, the mountain of the Gods. The sword was forged by the fire of dragons and the last seen dragon lived in these mountains thousands of years ago. The lava from the volcanoes errupting there almost every decade could easily be used as a forge and there is no one else skilled enough to fix a weapon of this kind other than the God of Fire Liveror, in his temple.

Legends speak of a mystical bond between the wielder and their sword, where the weapon itself possesses the extraordinary power to communicate with its user. In a realm where magic intertwines with reality, the heroes of ancient times were said to have experienced a wondrous phenomenon. As they clashed blades on the battlefield, the warriors would hear enchanting hymns and rousing battle songs resonating within their very souls. The melodies would fuel their courage, guiding their every strike and inspiring them to triumph over their adversaries. Such tales of the sword's ethereal connection with its wielder continue to captivate the imaginations of those who yearn for the glory of bygone eras.

In the face of impending doom, the true potential of the sword remains a mystery. However, it is undeniable that this ancient weapon holds immense power and could potentially become humanity's ultimate savior in the darkest of times. When the world teeters on the brink of destruction, the legendary Xalvador will emerge, ready to reclaim what was once lost. In this desperate struggle for survival, the sword becomes a symbol of hope, a beacon of light amidst the encroaching darkness. Its wielder, armed with courage and determination, stands as the last line of defense against the impending chaos, ready to restore balance and usher in a new era of peace.

                                                                                                   Dreoran, Lead Historian 

                                                                                                     of  Katherine the Great 

"Well, that was a load of rubbish." Frolkir said disgusted, spitting on the ground.

"It is our only lead. It could potentially be where the Hercling is located." Gareth insisted.

"I agree. It does not hurt to try looking there." Adelaide said over Branwynes words, covering what she said. Branwyne looked at her surprised, and then shrugged.

"It's your choice. Whatever you decide, I will follow." she said at last.

"Very Well. We will go to Aresmore Mountain." Sir Rolland stated.

"Aresmore Mountain...My father used to put me to sleep with myths and legends from that place. Heroes of old, and monsters of incredible power all lived there." Sir Rolland continued. 

"The only monster you are likely to see is Frolkir when he wakes up in the morning"Branwyne said laughing, giving a general sense of amusement to the party.

"Bloody elves..." Frolkir whispered under his breath, continuing his phrase with indistinguishable noises afterwards. Gareth could swear he heard him say something about how arrogant the elves are.

"Quiet! I hear something." Sir Rolland said lifting his arm for everyone to stop talking.

The air was filled with the distant echoes of dogs barking, their voices growing louder with each passing moment. The cacophony of their barks reverberated through the stillness, creating an eerie atmosphere. As the seconds ticked by, the sound intensified, reaching a crescendo that seemed to pierce through the silence. And amidst the chorus of canine voices, faint shouts of men could be heard in the distance, adding an element of mystery to the unfolding scene.

"They're on to us. Run!" Sir Rolland said and the party ran on foot, among the dense trees. 

"I'm surprised their dogs didn't smell us earlier with that stench." Frolkir shouted while he ran, unwilling to let the topic drop.

The dense forest proved to be a treacherous obstacle as the adventurers pushed through, their progress hindered by snapping branches and torn capes. Amidst the chaos, Adelaide let out a sharp cry of pain when a branch struck her arm with unexpected force, leaving a painful scratch.Frolkir's luck seemed to waver as he nearly tripped over a hidden rock, prompting a frustrated curse to escape his lips. However, before he could stumble, Branwyne swiftly came to his aid, catching him and providing much-needed stability. This act of kindness earned her a disapproving glare from the dwarf, while a faint blush colored her cheeks.

"Come on, this way!" Sir Rolland said, aiming for a small stream. The dogs would lose their smell in the water and they would manage to escape. 

"I hate jumping in water with clothes. It makes my clothes stick and my socks in my boots soppy." Adelaide said.

"For once, I agree with the witch." Frolkir said with a surprised look on his face, as if he couldn't believe the words came out of his mouth.

"Will you stop complaining like old hens and come on the other side?" Sir Rolland shouted and they all jumped in the stream of water. They made their way to the other side, just as the barking became louder and louder. 

They hid in the trees just as the dogs appeared, big grey hulking dogs, with sharp teeth and pointy ears. The lead dog sniffed the air and looked confused, as it kept sniffing the ground in circles, just like the other dogs did.

Finally, two horsemen appeared, their armor shining in the sunlight. They took their helms off and Gareth could hear one of them complain.

"Yet another goose chase mission. I could be sitting in my dad's house with my feet up in the air while lying on my bed near the fire but I wanted to enlist for the glory and honor. That rubbish they promote the army with" he said as he spat in the ground in frustration.

The other one stopped behind him. "They could be anywhere in this blasted forrest. For a moment I thought the dogs had picked up their scent but it could be they chased after a rabbit."

"That would be a very big rabbit. Did you not see the broken branches and the torn clothing?" the first man asked. Sometimes you are blind as a bat, Hamond. No, they are here somewhere. He looked intensely on the ground, like a tracker and for a moment Gareth thought they would have to fight. He saw Frolkir, ready to put an arrow in one of the two soldiers but then with a quick motion the first man turned around.

"To hell with this mission. Let's go Hamond." he ordered and the two men left, accompanied by the dogs.

"Filthy mongrels" Hamond said and followed his captain.

The party breathed a sigh of relief as the two soldiers disappeared from view. Frolkir relaxed his bow, and put the arrow away.

"Let's move. There will be others searching for us." he suggested and everyone agreed and followed. Gareth realized he was still holding his sword with his right hand in a tight grip. Sir Rolland looked like nothing extraordinary happened just a few moments ago. 

The weary travelers trudged through the dense forest, their footsteps echoing as their boots crushed the fallen leaves beneath them. After what felt like an eternity, their bodies could no longer bear the strain of the journey. With exhaustion seeping into their bones, they sought respite in a small clearing. Through the gaps in the towering trees, a glimpse of the distant city of Lunburn teased their tired eyes. Collapsing onto the ground, the group settled in, finding solace in the crackling warmth of Adelaide's campfire and the aroma of the food she prepared. Conversation ceased as weariness overtook them, and one by one, they succumbed to a deep slumber. Gareth, finding solace near the flickering flames, succumbed to the embrace of sleep almost instantly, his eyelids heavy with weariness.

A shiver ran down his spine as a bone-chilling gust of wind swept across his body, sending a shudder through his entire being. The darkness of the cave enveloped him, casting eerie shadows on the rugged walls. Behind him, a narrow opening revealed a tantalizing glimpse of sunlight and a majestic mountain blanketed in glistening snow. In front of him, a vast expanse of the cave stretched out, adorned with magnificent stalagmites and stalactites that seemed to reach towards the heavens. The frozen ground beneath his feet made each step treacherous, forcing him to tread cautiously. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on his heart as he stood alone in the depths of the cavern, his mind filled with worry and uncertainty. Where could Adelaide and the rest of the party be? The question echoed through his thoughts, amplifying his sense of isolation and fear.

As he stepped closer, an irresistible force seemed to beckon him, tugging at his very core. A mysterious voice, barely audible, filled his ears with enchanting whispers. And then, his eyes fell upon it, a sight that stole his breath away - a resplendent sword resting upon an ancient altar. It was none other than the legendary Hercling, the fabled weapon that had eluded their grasp for countless years.

As his hand reached out to grasp the hilt of the sword, a thunderous growl reverberated through the cave, causing the very foundations to tremble. In an instant, the once-sturdy walls began to crumble, and icy shards rained down upon the floor like deadly daggers. Panic surged through him as he instinctively raised his hand to shield himself, only to realize that his trusty shield was nowhere to be found. Before he could even ponder its disappearance, a menacing ice dagger hurtled towards him, leaving him defenseless and helpless in the face of impending danger.

With a sudden start, he jolted awake, his senses heightened. The tranquility of the sleeping campers surrounded him, their peaceful slumber undisturbed. The once vibrant campfire had dwindled to mere embers, casting a faint glow on the darkened surroundings. His heart continued to race, the remnants of the dream still lingering within him. Gradually, the intensity subsided, but an inexplicable pull persisted, as if an invisible force beckoned him towards an unknown destination. Though perplexed by this enigmatic sensation, he resolved to push it aside, dismissing it as mere imagination. Determined to find solace, he closed his eyes once more, hoping for a dreamless sleep this time.