‘Grand Master…the quest must begin without delay for time is not our ally,’ says Lord Rimoah, as he paces nervously back and forth across the flagstoned floor of your monastery chamber. You voice your agreement and call upon your wise friend to counsel you as best he can about the mission you have undertaken. Not entirely to your surprise, you learn that he has already made preparation, confident in the knowledge that you would agree to this dangerous quest. He has arranged for you to travel to the Freeland of Palmyrion where a guide is waiting to escort you to Ruel. The guide can guarantee safe passage to the borders of the dark realm, but no further.
Rimoah tells you that little is known of Ruel, save that the unnatural forest which surrounds and protects the Cenerese stronghold of Mogaruith harbours creatures that are the stuff of nightmares. Some almost defy description. The poor wretches who survived the last ill-conceived, ill-fated invasion of Ruel, spoke of their encounters with gigantic, acid-spitting worms that rose up out of the ground without warning and devoured whole regiments of their comrades at a single stroke. They told also of the battles that were waged against ferocious packs of disease-ridden rat-creatures they called ‘Vazhag’. The Cenerese breed these sentient vermin in warrens deep below Mogaruith, and then release them into the forest to patrol and gather food for even viler abominations that rarely venture beyond the walls of their stronghold.
‘Truly I wish that I were able to tell you more, Lone Wolf, but so little is known of Ruel. It is a dark and sinister place. Yet, there is something else, something that I can give you which will aid your quest,’ says Rimoah, and he holds out his hand. In his palm is the phial of green liquid, the vaccine that will, at least, protect you from the plague which threatens to destroy so much of your beloved world. You take it, uncork it, and then quickly swallow the bitter contents. Unexpectedly your stomach rebels and a wave of nausea rises up which makes you slap a hand over your mouth. A few moments later the nausea fades and you are able to remove your hand and speak.
‘How long will it protect me?’ you ask, queasily.
Rimoah smiles. ‘Oh, I’m sure you will be safe for some considerable time, Lone Wolf. I’m afraid I forgot to mention that the phial contained a concentrated vaccine, more than sufficient to protect a hundred men!’
Within the space of a few short hours you are ready to begin your long journey south to Palmyrion. Having entrusted the monastery to the care of your Kai Masters, you and Lord Rimoah leave by means of a secret tunnel, one of several that you have had constructed to enable you to enter and leave the monastery unobserved. You emerge in a clearing at the heart of the Fryelund Forest, at a place where Guildmaster Banedon is waiting patiently to welcome you aboard Skyrider, his flying ship. Here you take time to bid farewell to Lord Rimoah, who will await your return at the monastery, before climbing aboard and placing yourself in the charge of your old friend Banedon.