High in the mist-wreathed peaks of the Frostspine Mountains stood the ancient keep of House Ironclad — a fortress of stone and memory, where banners faded but honor endured. Within its firelit hall, a boy named
Kellan Ironclad once sat cross-legged beside the hearth, his eyes wide with wonder as his grandfather spoke of days long past. The old warrior told of the
Arachnid Brooch, a family relic of unmatched craftsmanship, said to grant its bearer the foresight of the spider — swift, patient, and deadly. Yet the brooch was lost a century ago in the War of Ashen Crowns, shattered and scattered by kin who sought to protect it from enemy hands.
Now, Kellan is no longer a child by the fire but a knight of steel and scars, sworn to restore his family’s honor. Whispers from travelers and merchants speak of strange relics found in forgotten ruins — fragments bearing the mark of the spider. With blade in hand and oath upon his lips, Sir Kellan Ironclad rides forth to reclaim what was lost, to reforge the Arachnid Brooch, and awaken the legacy of his bloodline.
Let see what hints helped him to collect all pieces:
“Beneath the mountain’s mournful crown,
Where shadows wear the bones of town,
No bell is tolled, no song is sung,
Yet doors stand open, graves among.
The river whispers names long past,
The wind counts skulls both slow and vast.
Seek the city the living shun,
Where death and stone are joined as one.”
No sun hath touched its withered spire,
No hymn resounds, no sacred fire.
The stones drink blood, the walls breathe dread,
The faithful here are long since dead.
Beneath the moon’s unholy gleam,
Lies what was once a holy dream.
Seek where light itself does tremble
There shalt thou find the....
“I keep the king, the knight, the knave,
Yet none may leave the halls I gave.
My mouth is sealed, my breath is gloom,
The living fear my silent room.
Born of earth yet kissed by spell,
I rolled from field to midnight’s bell.
My golden hour swiftly dies,
When dawn unmasks my fleeting guise.
No steed, no wheel, no charm shall stay,
When first light steals the night away.
Stone remembers whispered pleas,
Though no god stirs, nor bends his knees.
Smoke curls thick where sun won’t tread,
And echoes feast on words long dead.
Kneel, and feel the chill draw near —
For faith once bright now festers here.
Born of quill, not hammer’s hand,
I shape the keep before the land.
Lines and angles mark my claim,
Towers and walls without the flame.
Builders follow where I lead,
Yet I remain on paper’s heed.
I am the map where castles sleep,
Drawn in shadow, secrets keep.
Beneath a moon that knows no joy,
I stand where spirits once employed.
My limbs reach out with silent plea,
And drops of ruby stain the lea.
In twilight’s hush my foliage glows,
A scarlet sign where no wind blows
Born from stone the shadows keep,
I drink the light when mortals sleep.
Silent I bind both hand and fate,
My circle holds a secret weight.
Seek me not by sun’s bright gleam,
For only darkness wakes my dream.
In shadowed hands I twist and bind,
By ghoul’s delight, my form defined.
Each stitch and spell the night shall claim,
Born of craft and whispered name.
Steel your heart, Sir Kellan, for only through relentless hand and wary eye shall the fragments of your family’s legacy be claimed.
I gather in shadows, where whispers creep,
Skeletons dance and ghosts never sleep.
Bats and black cats join my eerie crew,
Candles flicker, casting a ghostly hue.
Three brothers sit in silent cheer,
Grinning wide with nothing to fear.
Aligned in a line, they watch and stare,
Empty eyes and bone laid bare.
What are they?
I’m set with care for friends to see,
Bowls and platters surround me.
Candles flicker, laughter flows,
Colors, flavors, all in rows.
Dark and damp, I hold the lost,
Chains and echoes mark the cost.
No windows bright, no sunlight shown,
I keep secrets deep and stone.
When legends rise and clash with might,
Their names are sung in endless night.
Not just a brawl, but fate’s delight —
A tale of heroes, dark and bright.
I hunt those who stand in my way,
Their strength is fuel for my display.
I strike with purpose, cold and stiller
to be continued...
