Well - yes and no. History is written by the bards! For example: Madripore is distant from all the other great powers of our world - but Ul-Haq and Æhrengaard are neighbors, and have warred for centuries. And listen to the songs and stories of either side, they're both claiming victory in that eternal conflict.

Clovius' gaze wanders the ruins around you.

Funny thing about Zeltmar. It was a prety large city, a succesful vassal state of Madripore - and then the troubles began: Failing harvests, violent weather. Madripore helped it through, but then eventually, it fell to invasion. A large force of gnolls and centaur. Who are traditionally enemies, by the way, and live a very long way east of Madripore.

It's like .. fate or some other force simply didn't want Zeltmar to succeed, he muses.

As you ponder the fate of fallen Zeltmar, darkness falls - and with it, a slow drumbeat begins. *Thuum ta-Thuum* Slow and heavy, like the gates of hell slamming shut. You see them coming across the hills, the tribes of the ghouls, each under their standard. They do not march, like a military force - instead, they scurry and scitter, in sudden bursts of speed, reminding you somehow of locusts, or rats, or ... something.

Simeon, the scribe - who is still with you, even if he rarely makes an appearance - jumps at the sound, and makes sure to place himself behind someone larger and more imposing.

Ohh - do we have to do this again?

As the tribes gather, their leader emerges, carrying his weird staff. He seems even less coherent than last time, maybe out of sheer excitement.

Map-map? He enquires, map-map-map? The know of it? Ripe and fertile, soft soil to hide endless fields of bones? The know, the know? There is a somewhat scary gleam to his eyes, and slaver drips from his maw.