Not too long ago, a group of Trév Duvárdain defeated an Iron Crown sorcerer in the sewers of Carn Dûm. The tale is, as Lágsaith would have many believe, a rather strange one.
'You wish to hear the tale, eh? Well, I suppose I could grant you the privilege.
'Once my dear Aighrig returned from the east, our little group began hunting down those who still believed in the Iron Crown. We tracked one such fool named Gárvadach into the sewers of Dûn Bándrath -- or Carn Dûm, as it's otherwise known. Apparently, he sought to capture and tame a beast of some sort. Rumours of terrible monstrosities lurking beneath the city come and go, but...'
Lágsaith leans in for a conspiratorial whisper.
'I assure you, some of them have been very true. After all, why would the Iron Crown care about how their sorceries have poisoned the wildlife?'
She grins, then leans back.
'Gárvadach may have been a fool, but anyone who perceives the world as something to be conquered is dangerous. The land does not forgive such arrogance, nor does it forget.
'And so, the six of us pursued him....'
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