Many a fireside tale has been spun from the Forsaken Fell, that stony ledge halfway up Hvitr’s Horn where lies a maze of broken walls clotted by black lava. Before your grandmother’s grandmother walked the world, they say the mountain vomited forth molten rock that destroyed a monastery, its attendant village, and all who dwelt within. Since then, few have dared set foot upon the Fell, fearing the attention of the charred spirits said to stalk the ruins.

One by one, residents of the village at the foot of the mountain have been disappearing. Rumors of distant screams carried on the cold wind and flaming skulls flying through the night have driven those that have not fled to cower fearfully in their huts.

The time has come to get to the bottom of whatever lies beneath the Forsaken Fell.