Introduction

Dark mists cleared from view, revealing a thousand fires burning down below in the valley. Foul
smoke billowed upward from hundreds of forges glowing angrily amongst the teeming masses. The
meager light of the crescent moon did not reach through the grasping fingers of the Onior Mountains to
shine into the writhing orcish camps.
Vision blurred and the mountains passed by at inhuman speeds until the seer stood invisibly in the
midst of the encampment. Orcs, drunk with bloodlust and ale alike, staggered around. Grunts and orcish
shouts echoed through the night, punctuated by the screams of captive elves. Corpses of elves, orcs, and
goblins littered the ground, trodden on unheeded.
Vision blurred again until the seer stood before a ramshackle barracks. Dirty hides matted with
blood strung between iron posts made the walls and roof. The floor consisted of the same foul mud, a
mixture of blood, dirt, and excrement, which extended throughout the camp. Within the barracks sat the
orc warlord, Borgoth the Harrower, a mountain of muscle. Purple stripes ran chaotically across his vibrant
green flesh, mixed intermittently with streaks of mud and blood. Large tusks jutted up from his protruding
lower lip. Beady black eyes filled with violent rage seemed too small for his head.
The Harrower sat on a throne of skulls: goblin, elf, and orc alike, not all yet stripped clean of
flesh. Incomprehensible guttural sounds came from his mouth, spittle flying freely as he held aloft an
elegant black axe in his right hand. The weapon looked almost small in the grasp of the Harrower. Its
crescent blade was supported only from the top by a smooth piece of jet black metal which extended from
a haft as dark as the blade itself. Descending down the crescent of the cutting edge, the metal gently
waved before turning violently jagged, ending in a wicked point; held upward, a man could drive it
directly downward, haft first, to deliver a puncturing, lethal blow to a helpless foe. It was difficult to see
in the dim light on the black blade, but a reddish, wet tinge seemed to further mar this unholy axe.
The warlord lifted his weapon aloft and let out a final roar; black mist wafted into the seers
vision from all sides. The final sound was the guttural cries and shrieks of the assembled orcs.
Good King Folino, dressed humbly, practically in a light tunic, sat on the edge of his throne as the
mist cleared again from his vision, revealing his assembled advisers in the main hall of his keep. The
faces without exception were aghast at the sights they had witnessed. His court magus, Kabac Grondl,
draped in the deep blue of his office, bowed as he stepped backward away from the dais of the throne, his
long, dark hair falling in front of his face.
And you are sure that this will come to pass, Kabac? spoke Folino. The kings face was strong,
square, and angular. Though his visage was now grim indeed, he was seldom known by his subjects not to
have a smile on his face. The grey which flecked the blonde of his coifed hair seemed by the minute to be
spreading.
I am certain, my liege, replied the rasping, tired voice of the magus. Kabacs face, shadowed by
the thick azure hood of his robes, was downcast.
Well what are we to do? Folino gestured for his advisers to approach. Never have the orcs
united so completely, he muttered to himself.
Before the noble scholars could reach the dais, they were interrupted by the magus. The axe is
what gives this Borgoth such sway over the orcish masses.
Folino glanced upward and gestured for the wizard to continue.
Its name is Maw. I have read of it in my research of the occult artifacts of the past ages. It gives
its wielder unnatural strength, but curses him with a bloodlust that cannot be slaked. Perfect for an orc
warlord, no?
And what do you propose we do then, Kabac? Out with it!
My lord, what you have witnessed has not yet come to pass. It may be possible that Borgoth has
not yet gained possession of Maw. It may be possible to retrieve the weapon before it ever falls into his
hands. The future, though, is a tenacious thing. Unless the bloody thing is destroyed, I fear this future will
come to pass.
And can it be melted down in an ordinary forge?
The mage hesitated. No, sire. But I think I should be able to with the fire from yes sire. I
can destroy it.
For a moment, the king sat in silence. Then he waved his hands, gesturing his scribe to approach.
There is much work to be done. Now take this down boy. I want this to the criers by the evening.
 Background
Welcome to the world of Yaodwyr!
King Folino of Kingdom Antylvir has declared a handsome reward to any who can journey
northward from his keep into the Onior Mountains, and retrieve a mysterious black weapon. Such a
promise is not to be taken lightly, as Antylvir has been one of the most prosperous trade economies for
the last several centuries! Any adventurers willing to take on this task have been instructed to come to the
keep to receive some basic equipment for the journey from the kings retainers.
Antylvir is a diverse region with mountains, hills, forests, lakes, rivers, creeks, and plains. While
the folk of Antylvir dabble in production of everything from ore and food to textiles and leather, the
wealth of the kingdom comes primarily from its position amongst the other major powers of Yaodwyr. To
the northeast, past the Onior Mountains lies the city of mages, Mytiicet. To the west, past the Ash Wastes,
are the lush Oases of Specine. To the south, past the perilous Bogwood, is the Dwarven empire of Tronos.
The Royal Keep is the primary city in Antylvir, though smaller settlements and cities dot the
peaceful landscape. All roads through Antylvir to the neighboring kingdoms pass through the Keep, and it
is thanks to the superbly conditioned roads maintained by the royal family that trade can occur so
smoothly.

Instructions
You, the Player Characters (PCs) for some reason or another have found yourself in the Kingdom
of Antylvir. Perhaps you have lived here all your life, perhaps you were passing through on one of the
many trade caravans and decided to hop off when you heard of this reward being offered for a trip into the
mountains, or perhaps your story is completely different!
Your job right now is to come up with a background story for your character. This can be as
detailed or as undetailed as you like. Feel free to make up cities, towns, or characters as needed. What you
definitely do need to develop is the reason you are in Antylvir! You need not have a direct motivation to
go on this journey that has been posited above (heck, the adventure could go somewhere else entirely),
but if you want a straightforward game it might not be a bad idea. If you would like any more details
about the world of Yaodwyr, feel free to ask me!
We will likely spend our first session doing character creation unless I can meet with everyone to
role for stats, but 3.5 character creation can be intimidating at first anyway, so unless everyone is very
confident in their creation skills, Id prefer to spend the first session doing that.

Let me know if you have any questions!