“Orcs!” the alarm sounded from the lookouts on the palisades and carried through-out the town, until it reached the temple of Tempus and the bells rang to call every able-bodied warrior to man the wall. Fortunately, the few herders outside the wall raced through the gates before they were slammed closed and barred, the fields having been harvested weeks ago, as the savage beasts stormed across the ford of the river Surbrin and crashed against the town’s defenses like a wave of howling flesh and steel. Flaming crossbow bolts soared over the wall, a few striking home, wounding defenders, while other set small fires which the villagers quickly extinguished, as their blood curdling war cries resounded through the cold morning air. The score of barbaric orcs tried futilely to scramble up the steep, rocky hillside below the plaster caked palisades, while the defenders fired bows and crossbows down on them from the corner towers and flung rocks from along the wall. Of the score of rampaging orcs who attacked, only a few were still alive to hear the retreat horn sound, all of them bloodied; another in what seemed to be an endless series of pointless attempts to assault the small Zhent refugees settlement of Winter Edge… two score buildings huddled within a palisade wall, crowded upon a tall rocky hill about a great hall, home to some two hundred souls. Pavel lingered in the shadows, watching Kara, the beautiful young lady of Winter Edge, minister to her uncle, Igan Starag, the lord-protector; mopping his burning brow to quell his fever. The mindfire had burned in him for nearly a week, and it wasn’t likely to wane on its own, leaving him in a near total stupor. She’d beseeched him to cast a curing spell on Igan, but he’d only feigned it… the lord-protector had denied him what he wanted, so he’d seen to it that he could have it all for himself. First he’d rain Tempus’ vengeance upon the orcs that attacked them, sending men to root them out in the Frost Hills and kill them all, then he’d seize control of town in the Foehammer’s name, making himself lord-protector, and finally he’d claim her as his own. She’d resist him, of course, but the town’s warriors would side with him because he had the Lord of Battles’ blessing… she had nothing but her uncle’s name. As he watched, he imagined her tending to him with that kind of affection. Kneeling by his side, caressing his face as she did her uncle’s, serving his every wanton desire and laying in his bed every night. Her uncle had refused him her hand in marriage. But when he took the title of lord-protector, there would be no one to refuse him anything he wanted. Kara could sense that she was being watched from the shadows and knew it was the vile cleric… the very thought nauseated her. He’d haunted her steps for months, wanted to make her his bride, but her uncle had protected her. However, now her uncle was unable to defend her, and she knew that Pavel harbored wicked designs for her. But she’d never allow him to take her… she’d lay with ever orc in the Hills before she’d let him to lay a hand upon her.