[right][h3]Feodherday, 14th of Rainwater
1257 GC[/h3][/right]

The Road to Tinwe had been silent for months. 

The trade into the Empire from beyond the Forgewall had slowed to a trickle, and then ceased. The last travelers from beyond the wall spoke in hushed tones of the growing power of Vaul, warchief of a grand alliance of orc and goblinkind, who commanded a thousand tribes of the Steppe and lead them on a war of conquest. Molkh had burned, some said. Qepren had been set ablaze with dragonflame and sorcery, said others. Vaul marches on Tinwe, said the last travelers west. No more followed after them.

The lords of Orzamar, those minor noble families on the fringe of the Empire, dismissed these concerns. The orcs of the Steppe had not crossed over from the Forgewall into the Empire in centuries. The walled cities beyond the Forgewall had stood strong for five thousand years and more. The primitive savages of the Steppe could not hope to challenge ordered and lawful societies with the undisciplined rabble they called armies.

But the traders had stopped coming, that was undeniable. The Road to Tinwe was silent, until the Voice of Vaul spoke.

A lone orc, a hulking, brown skinned brute, hair in a black topknot, with a heavy bearded axe slung through his saddle, arrived on the back of a great brown wolf of the steppes. A black banner, unadorned by symbol or color, fluttered in the wind as he came. He brought his canine steed to a halt outside Orzamar’s Eastern Gate. The town guard, perched on the walls of the fortress-town, bid the orc that he state his business at Orzamar and in the Empire. 

“I am the Voice of Vaul,” the orc answered, his words a booming thunder, a challenge, “Khan of Khans, Warchief of the Steppe, who razed Tinwe and burned the cities of Molkh and Qepren. All cities are ash in his wake, all enemies are broken before him. This city was of the orcs. Its bones are orcish, its wood and stone are orcish. It will belong to the orcs again. This, Vaul demands of his armies, and his command is your devastation. Abandon this fortress, scatter yourself to the winds, and Vaul will show you mercy. Remain, and you will receive no quarter. This is the word of Vaul.”

And with that, the orc, the first of his kind to cross the Forgewall in centuries, departed, back on the winding, mountainous path into the Gap of the Forgewall, and across Durand’s Bridge to the Eastern Steppe beyond. 

By the rising of the twin moons over Arann that evening, ravens had flown for Khazadram and Valador, conveying the news and carrying a single request, that the Empire and her allies come to the defense of Orzamar.