“ A party of adventurers walk along late on an open plain, on a moonless night. Abruptly, War screams, the clanging of metal and death-cries are heard. It is an open plain, and nothing is seen, but the sound of a huge battle is all about them. The sounds continue for a half hour before stopping as suddenly as they started. What was it? Perhaps the ghouls of a long-gone battle, reliving their unfortunate last memories...”
“ In Azur, the streets are crowded, and the PCs' poor grasp of Azuran makes it hard for them to find out why. Still, they shoulder their way through the crowds, trying to get to the house of the renowned wizard they seek, when suddenly they realise they are standing very much alone. The crowds have ceased their talking and their gazes are fixed on the PCs. The imperiously clothed man standing before them smiles and speaks in Azuran: 'Ah! Volunteers! And so eager too!'”
“ When the campfires grow dim, stories are told. Stories of lost cities, great heroes and legends of old. One of these is the story of Knurlheim. Once the proud capital of the Dwarfs, now a ruin- abandoned long ago. Filled with vast riches and treasure. It's secrets forgotten with the decline of the Dwarfs, long ago. No one knows is certain if it ever exsisted at all.”
