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Prologue

Deep beneath Iron Mountains, former iron mine stretched like labyrinth of stone. Narrow passages wound treacherously through gloom, once delved by dwarven hands. But now only silence and decay lingered in forgotten depths.

Graig followed Ordas’ skeletal form warily, armored feet scraping ancient runes, etched upon floor. Torches sputtered weakly along walls – casting eerie light over weathered supports and crumbling shafts. The air itself felt heavy with history of past centuries – a graveyard for fallen dragons.

Hundreds of bones lay in secret chambers! Rib cages and vertebrae, jutting from earth like macabre sculptures. Skulls grinned mockingly in shadows, hollow eyes holding untold secrets.

Surrounded by darkness, necromancer Ordas stood amidst the grave – Book of the Dead cradled in his thin hands! His cowl shadowed face, as he murmured ancient incantations, each word sending tendrils of darkness, writhing through air.

Graig watched warily from shadows behind, armored form rigid with disdain