Valor, Volleys, and the Vengeful Dead
The saga continued as the sun rose over the spires of Fayhaven. While the town slept, the Rangers were already back on the trail, ensuring the safety of the roads before the final darkness fell.
🌑 Day 2: From Festival Fire to Frozen Graves
Clearing the Outskirts: The morning saw us back in the brush, rooting out the final remnants of the bandit gangs. Our persistence paid off, securing the trade routes and earning the lasting gratitude of the local merchants.
Masters of the Bow: The afternoon belonged to the Archery Tournament. Naturally, the Guild performed admirably; our arrows found their marks with the precision only years in the Wilds can provide. We didn’t just compete—we set the standard.
The Calm Before the Storm: As twilight arrived, we gathered with the townsfolk to witness the mesmerizing performance of Sage Fire. Their fire dancers offered a brief, warm respite from the biting chill that began to settle over the valley.
The Necromancer’s Horde: As the temperature plummeted to unnatural lows, the true threat emerged. Led by a dark sorcerer, a tide of undead surged from the treeline. The Rangers rallied the town, leading the charge into the frozen woods. The battle was fierce and the cost was high—many of us carry new scars from that wood—but the necromancer was defeated and the souls of Fayhaven were saved.
As dawn broke on the third day, there were no grand speeches or parades. True to our nature, the Rangers of the Wilds packed their kits and quietly faded back into the deep forest. Fayhaven stands safer today, and if the winds are kind, we shall see its gates again next year.
"The woods claim what is theirs, but the Rangers protect what is ours."
