Edge of the Abyss

There are but a few hours before we resume marching, and as sleep eludes me, I turn to my journal for distraction. I did not witness the events I intend to relate, but as they are a prelude to the bloodshed that will take place on the morrow, they must be recorded.

Four days ago the Order was mobilised in its entirety to reinforce a section of the Great Wall that so far has withstood attack from the Great Enemy. The advance guard of our force, under Knight-Captain Tarragon, was sent ahead of the main body by the Grand Master to secure a weakened portion of the Wall that has suffered from artillery bombardment by the Enemy's dwarven auxiliaries. Our main body would arrive thereafter, reinforce the Wall, and establish a base of operations from which to drive back the Enemy into the Abyss.

Yet Tarragon never reached the Wall. Yesterday a crazed, half-dead man with horrific burn scars stumbled into our camp, a survivor from the vanguard. Tarragon, he said, had been encircled and crushed by an overwhelming dwarven force that had already seized the Wall. The man spoke of half-breed monstrosities and byblow horrors bearing the black touch of the Abyss that tore through our infantry and ripped men from their horses, scattering the vanguard utterly. Of Tarragon, he said, the last he had seen of him was in the midst of the melee, rallying his surviving knights for a final stand. That Tarragon and all who went with him are dead now seems certain.

Before the survivor had finished his tale, the Grand Master ordered my command forward ahead of the main body to engage the Abyssal vanguard and hold it at the Wall before it can penetrate further into the southern lands. That the enemy has been underestimated is self-evident. My force will attempt to delay any further incursions while the Order marshals itself for a pitched battle. Should we be fortunate, we will still be alive when our Order's banners reach the field.

It is only a few hours before dawn now and I must go. There is a small stretch of land to the south of the Wall where our scouts believe the enemy will rally before marching further into the southern lands. If we are to have any chance of success, we must come upon the dwarven foe whilst they are unawares and unprepared for a counterattack. Upon our mission rides not only the success of our Order, but the lives of the townspeople in the hamlets and villages south of the Wall.