WHQ - Heroes of Harksheide

Image - Eleri and Hockrup meet up at the Christmas market outside of the Lehmitz Tavern It was in the frosted weeks before Yuletide, when the snow began to settle like powdered lace on the cobblestones of Kleiner Alter Hof, that Hockrup met once more with Eleri. The streets bustled with townsfolk swaddled in cloaks and woollen scarves, their breath curling in the chill air like dragon smoke. The scent of roasted chestnuts, beeswax candles, and spiced glühwein drifted over the market square, mingling with the sounds of carollers and the clink of coin. Hockrup, a towering Pitfighter with a scar-laced jaw and the bearing of one who had spent more time in the blood-slick sands of the arena than under open sky, moved through the crowd like a prowling bear. Despite his fearsome reputation—many a tale told of him breaking a man’s helm with his bare hands—his eyes lit up when he spotted her. Eleri, the Wizardess of the Hedgerows, stood by a vendor stall inspecting bundles of dried winter h...

Image – The final Objective chamber, the Tomb Chamber where Die Alten Hofs face the final challenge and must first dispatch the Halberd Guard and the two tomb priests Die Alten Hofs descended the obsidian stairs of the Harksheide’s Gate. The air grew colder, fouler, with each step. Dust hung in the air like ash, and the stones whispered of old screams. At the first crossroad, they paused. Gwendolyn traced the magical ley lines with her staff; the path eastward pulsed weakly with necrotic energy. They moved forward cautiously, passing crumbled murals of forgotten saints and rusted iron grates. Soon they entered a large, iron-doored chamber—the hinges screeched as they were pried open. Inside, a Torture Chamber, long abandoned. The walls were blackened with old blood, and iron maidens and racks lay broken across the floor. Skeletons hung from chains. One corpse, a decayed soldier, slumped beside an overturned brazier. Jederman stepped forward, lifting the body and turning it gently. From...

Image - Die Alten Hofs approach Galadran at the Labyrinth entrance The great archway of Harksheide loomed like a gaping wound carved into the living mountain. Carved runes pulsed faintly with blue-white light across its stone surface, the remnants of ancient protective wards etched by High Elven magi after the Fall. The entrance yawned in eternal gloom, a maw of echoing blackness from which cold air and whispers crept like tendrils. Before the archway stood a detachment of the High Elf Command, clad in mirrored armour that shimmered faintly even in the dim light of dusk. Their banners bore the crescent of Aralayne, the Moon Kingdom — a symbol of vigilance and celestial guidance. At the centre of their formation stood Captain Galadran, tall even by elven standards, his golden hair tied in ceremonial braids and his white cloak unsullied by the dust of the road. A faint hum in the air suggested protective magic constantly at work — wards that repelled the dark mists, traps for illusio...

Characters Barbarian - Jederman Drow Elf Bard - Elendrial Iluvatar Assassin - Sundras Tilbarg Bretonian Knight Maiden - Helga of Helgoland Wizard - Gwendolyn Woods Barbarian: Jederman In the unforgiving mountains of Korga, where the snow-capped peaks touch the sky and the air is thick with the whispers of the ancients, a legend was forged in blood and fire. Jederman, a name that strikes fear into the hearts of his enemies and inspires awe in those who hear it, was born of the harshest wilderness. Jederman's early life was a testament to his unyielding spirit. Born to a tribe of nomadic warriors, he was trained from a young age in the art of combat and survival. His parents, Gorath and Thrain, were renowned warriors who instilled in him the values of strength, courage, and loyalty. Jederman's childhood was marked by rigorous training, hunting, and battling against the unforgiving environment. When he turned 16, Jederman underwent the Trial of the Bear, a rite of passage that w...

Image - Die Alten Hofs, Crew 1 - Left to right, Sundras Tilbarg - Assassin, Helga of Helgoland - Bretonnian Knight Maiden, Jederman - Barbarian, Gwendolyn Woods - Wizard, Erendriel Iluvatar - Drow Elf Bard    It was a chilly October evening on the Reepers Way a district of the small settlement of Alter Hof known for its night life with a bustling bar and tavern. It was late and midnight had passed long before. Mist and rain filled the air, and in the Lehmitz Tavern, one of many in the district revellers were beginning to slowly drift away one by one as the night turned its weary head towards the morning. The tavern with its small frontage and a few tables and chairs scattered outside, for those with the strength to bear the cold and wet, led into a small warren of a place with its low ceilings and bare stone walls. It held a long wooden bar, well-worn and stained by generations of use and a backroom where a lone minstrel sang on a raised stage for the amusement of the drinke...

Image - Lehmitz Tavern and the settlement of Kleiner Alter Hof on Market day Nestled at the edge of the foreboding Heldenshmiede Labyrinth, the small settlement of Alter Hof has grown up around the entrance to this ancient and treacherous place. For generations, the people of Alter Hof have lived in the shadow of the labyrinth, their lives shaped by the dangers that lurk within its depths. The settlement's proximity to the labyrinth's entrance has made it a magnet for adventurers, treasure seekers, and those brave enough to venture into the unknown. Despite the ever-present threat of orc attacks from the labyrinth, Alter Hof has managed to survive and even thrive. The settlement's residents have developed a keen sense of resilience and resourcefulness, learning to adapt to the unpredictable nature of the labyrinth and its inhabitants. They have developed a system of watchtowers and warning signals to alert the settlement of impending attacks, and a militia of skilled fighte...

In its prime, Harksheide was not just a dominion — it was a symbol. A shimmering beacon carved into the earth like a gem, whose light dared to rival the stars above. Beneath vaulted domes of dwarven steel, elven glass, and human masonry, the three noble races had forged a society unparalleled in elegance and unity. Towering spires shaped by ancient magic pierced the cavern ceilings, capturing the glow of sun-stones that mimicked daylight. Runes of peace, etched into stone by High Artificers, once pulsed gently throughout the city, sustaining harmony and holding back corruption. But power, even when used for good, casts long shadows. It is said that Harksheide’s doom began with a whisper — a whisper that slithered between cracks in the ancient stone. Molloch, the exiled warlock, had once been a student of the Arcane Concord, a neutral order of magical scholars housed in the city’s Astral Library. Ambitious and cunning, he delved too deeply into forbidden realms of death magic, lured b...