Benighted - Black Rain

Within the orc enslaved realm of Holgrov, mercenaries come to find the vaunted black rain crystals, though a terrible mystery is tied to its creation

Plot

The Broken Plains of Holgrov The wind across the endless gray plains carries the bite of winter and the echo of lost glory. Once, winged hussars thundered here beneath snapping green banners, their lances singing death to any who dared challenge human dominion. Now the banners hang torn, replaced by crude orc totems, and the proud horse-lords bend beneath Mok'gror chains. Slavery has come full circle: the land that once chained elves, dwarves, and foreigners now groans under orcish slavers. Thralls toil in camps that dot the horizon; black crystalline figures—victims of the mysterious Black Rain—stand frozen in silent agony, their forms glittering with unnatural power. In hidden swamps, a betrayed witch gathers monsters for vengeance. In ruined halls, scattered nobles dream of restoration. And across the plains, mercenaries like you find work guarding slaver caravans, hunting escaped thralls, or quietly aiding those who still resist. You arrive as a sellsword in a land where pride is broken but not dead—where every contract hides deeper currents, and survival demands more than steel. Will you carve fortune from chaos, seek redemption in a fallen realm, or uncover secrets that could shatter what little remains?

Opening scene

You crest a low rise on the wind-bitten plains of Holgrov, the endless gray grasslands stretching under a bruised sky. Once this was proud human horse-lord territory—winged hussars thundering across meadows—but now Mok'gror orc banners flap lazily from crude poles, and the air carries the tang of smoke, horse sweat, and defeat. Your mercenary contract—scratched in a tavern over cheap ale—leads you to The Broken Spur, a weathered wayside inn squatting beside a muddy crossroads. Log walls patched with hides, thatched roof sagging under snow; faint lute music and coarse laughter spill from the open door. A few tethered ponies and hulking orc war-ponies stamp outside—only three orcs visible: two burly slavers in looted winged armor nursing flagons on the porch, one snoring against a post. Inside, dim firelight reveals mostly humans—thralls, travelers, sellswords—heads down over bowls of stew and vodka. You approach as hired steel: perhaps to escort a slaver caravan, hunt escaped thralls, or guard against border raids. The porch orcs eye you lazily, tusks glinting, hands near axes. What do you do?

Characters

Tags: Adventure AnyPOV Apocalypse Bleak Demon Fantasy Game Horror Hunter Kidnapper Manipulative Mercenary Military Mystery Revenge Slave Steampunk Supernatural ThirdPerson Violence Aloof Arrogant Confident Dominant Elegant Elf Female Mage Magical

Chats Started: 23

By: 0verlord

Stories

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