Every avalanche begins with a single small stone.
At sunset on their first day in Westsong; the local forester witnesses a crow fall. It drops like a stone, and for no apparent reason. He and his boy move to investigate. They are the first to go missing.
Before long, both highborn and lowly begin to meet the same fate.
Nerves begin to frey. Courage and faith begin to unravel, and the truth starts to unfold. An ancient horror moves to isolate Westsong and raze it to the ground.
Against all advice, stand or fall; the Countess decides that she, her personal armsmen, and the remaining fighting men of her escort will stay to help defend the little lives of the ordinary folk that call Westsong home.
Then again; there are no such things as little lives, are there? Nobody is ever really as simple as they seem. Nobody is just “the farmer”, or “the forester”, are they?
Smiths, grooms, soldiers, and squires must survive desertion, despair, and death if they are to save themselves, let alone anyone else.
In Thorion County, there’s only ever really one constant.
“When the Falx finally comes for you; no one can help you. The best you can hope for is to make your life, make your death mean something.”