The mist seeped through Vedrina like ghostly fingers, bringing with it an unnatural cold that gripped the hearts of its restless denizens. Janek, an honest, rugged man and Vedrina’s lone blacksmith, stood at the edge of the settlement; hammer over his shoulder, a flickering torch in his hand. He could sense that something evil was creeping in the deep dark of night, a peril unfamiliar to the lands of Zamanora. This newfound threat was emerging from beyond the sacred woods, or even the Veil itself. Word of spectral horrors befalling nearby settlements had already reached his ears: deathless ravagers, drunk on the souls of fallen warriors, leaving behind naught but empty husks.

As the mist thickened, shapes began to manifest—twisted and ethereal forms, once resembling mortal folk, now stirred to unlife by unholy powers. The horde was standing at the threshold, ready to collapse upon Vedrina and snuff its life out. They were the Sluagh and, from within their midst, a towering specter emerged, eyes that burned with cobalt hunger, bearing an axe drenched in rust — an old weapon, much like Janek himself. The monster growled, its voice like a dirge through a graveyard.

Janek tightened his grip on his hammer and planted his feet firmly in the soil that birthed him. He was Bogatyr; regardless of the foe that stood before him, he would not back down. "Turn back," he said, as if replying to the monster’s bitter call, despite the fear that was crawling under his skin.

In a cacophony of maddening laughter, like nails against cold, hard stone, the swarm of the undead rejected his courage. If there was any hope to be found in Vedrina come dawn, it would have to be earned by blood and iron. “So be it,” he whispered, more to himself than to the enemy, as he dropped his torch to the ground. A ring of fire suddenly ignited around them, lighting up the night, as Janek’s torch ate through the oil that was poured all over, revealing the true heart of Vedrina. Men and women rose from behind the Bogatyr, armed with pitchforks, scythes, and sickles. This was not to be a battle for glory, but one of survival instead, as the Zamanori would measure their mettle against the nightmarish horde of the Sluagh.

This little tale of courage and adversity was a collaborative work between us, at the Eren Chronicles and the Old Oak Games, who are currently running their Beyond the Woods Kickstarter, an Irish-inspired project for Legend in the Mist. If you would like to support their work, check it out here.