Days of Fire they called it, they weren’t exaggerating. I was in court, at the capital, the Palace of King Marcus, Ironmark. The ground shook harder than it had ever done before, more so than the famous quakes of three years before.

I joined the mass, fleeing the crumbling walls, headed to royal gardens, a flat location, unadorned with buildings with only a few small trees that, if felled, would not kill us.

It was a trial by fire inside, but when we got outside the real test for survival began. Red clouds had built up in a vividly blue sky, and from them poured fourth magenta rain. Green streaks of lightning coursed the sky far to the south and way to the east.

The sky was occluded with the clouds, and the magenta rain turned to fire, setting light to all around us.

It was a select few that made it to the central fountain, hiding in the shallow waters, waiting for the fire to stop.

I can’t tell you when it stopped, but I can remember standing outside the fountain looking around at the pockmarked stone etched with the lashings of the fiery rain.

It was a few days later when I heard the news. Far to the south the Orc Khanate had declared war upon us, it was time to fight.

Harper Caerlyn, Lord of the Forest

Palace in Flames