Months have passed since the party defeated Unknown at Unknown. Leaffall transitions to the early days of Deepwinter, and the season’s first heavy snow forces an eerie calm along the northern reaches of the Unknown. Time seems to stand still for many; quiet thoughts over stewpots and crackling hearths turn to hopeful yet fragile plans for growth and rejuvenation. For the most hopeful the blanket of snow promises a clean slate, full of new opportunities. However, for the wary the pristine surface can reflect nothing but the clouds gathering beyond the horizon—here to now glimpsed only in brief and devastating fashion. For surely, the Unknown has not been defeated so easily…
Nevertheless, life along the Sword Coast finds a way to persist. What forces remain of the Unknown have taken incremental steps to restore balance and order—however delicate they may be—to the cities of the greater north: Unknown has been rebuilt; Unknown has been retaken; Unknown holds firm. This progress however comes at high cost as many finite resources have been tapped to do so; magical means have been exhausted, people have worked their knuckles bare, and forces have been drawn thin along the roads and waterways. As the cold of Deepwinter sets in a thick fog has crept out of the Unknown and along Unknown; south toward Unknown and north toward Unknown.
The city of Unknown sits defiant amidst the fog, travelers unable to reach them from the north or south. The city’s only means of egress is via Unknown, along the Unknown and through to the Long Road. Out of the fog looms the visage of the dread Unknown, seat of the Unknown. The tower seems to grow to those who have been watching it. Wherever the fog spreads, it is omnipresent—it now looms over the crude ramparts outside of Leilon, though no party can navigate the fog to reach it. As the fog spreads along Unknown so too does the influence of death; rumors spread of black skeletons, zombies, and worse emerging from the fog to sack villages. No quicker do they emerge from the fog to strike only to retreat again, their numbers swelling with new recruits.
As the threat to Leilon grows—more and more of their guard disappear into the fog each night—Unknown recalls the party to Unknown, along with several others who have cause to cast their lot with those opposing Unknown. Those summoned include members from all over the sword coast: from Unknown, Unknown and Unknown; from Unknown, Unknown and Unknown; from Unknown, Unknown and Unknown; from Unknown and Unknown, Unknown, Unknown, and Unknown; from allegiances less known, Unknown, Lady Unknown, and a few unknown agents.
Travel proves difficult and those summoned gather over the course of several weeks. In the late morning on an otherwise unremarkable Deepwinter day Unknown holds court in Unknown’s war room. A large multipaned window looks out over the hinterland of Unknown. A fire crackles in the hearth. You slowly gather one by one around a hefty table strewn with books, maps, long-extinguished candles, spilled bottles of ink, and countless crumpled pieces of paper. Some of you hold mugs of mulled wine, and others delicate cups of steaming tea; some of you secretly clutch a dagger, or spell components, or ready a warm and disarming smile. Though you see familiar faces standing around the table, you know not quite what brings you all together, or what fate you share.
As you mill about the room, you notice how the shifting rays of light break through the grey clouds and into the war room. As it passes through the room you see it quickly changes the way you see those around you. In one instance a close friend looks surprisingly youthful and carefree, a moment later the shadows shift, and you notice the slow creep of time revealed on their face. Lost in thought you are stirred as an attendant approaches Unknown at the hearth and whispers something in his ear. Lord Neverember nods and turns toward those who he has gathered. He clears his throat and gently rubs at a scar that rings his neck. It takes a few moments for you to realize that he is speaking—as loudly as he can—as he gestures to a slim book and a loosely bound scroll resting in the middle of the table. “Friends,” he says, “Our need is without a doubt dire as the fog grows along Unknown. However, the Unknown have brought us a faint sliver of hope.” He nods to a blue robed figure standing next to you at the table. “Unknown, would you mind explaining what you have found…”