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     Far from the prying eyes of others, long-buried beneath the many layers of fallen mountains millenia-gone-by, lies a vast citadel, carved into the side of a mud-covered mountain composed entirely of a dense black rock.

     With axe, and pick, hammer, and chisel, and - as Elune willed it - the occasional assistance of a Kal'Dorei blessed with the power to shape stone, the sprawling fortress was laid out in proper military fashion. 

     Huge obsidian spires jut upward, nearly breaking through the miles-thick earthen barrier which keeps it hidden from the rest of the world.  Dug-deep below are spiraling thorns burrowed deep within the earth, holding it in place against the will of gravity and the ever-changing tides of the nearby seas. 

     Ten thousand years of insulation and preperation protect its inhabitants from outside interference.  But, nothing protects them from the inner machinations of its citizenry.  A Plague has befallen the last remnants of the pure-blooded ones.  The Lords and Ladies who can claim the towering fortress by birth and by right.

     And, so it is, that the last of a long-ago generation of heroes and heroines is drawn back into the world at war.  In search of a cure of what plagues them, and the opportunity to reclaim their place among the other survivors of the Sundering, as a force to be reckoned with.  This is Black Rook Hold, last bastion of the Lord's and Ladies of House Ravencrest.

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