Whispers of Darkness
There are whispers hissing on the winds that careen through the cities of Norrath.
Citizens are leaving their homes less and less and when they do, they coldly eye each other with growing suspicion. Streets and walkways are becoming barren of the daily noise and bustle of city life. For the first time in the recent memories of most Norrathians, they are locking their doors.
There is an oozing ill on the air that no one can taste or touch, but it is building . . . everywhere.
And no one knows what is happening or what exactly is changing, even the greatest sages are dumbfounded. Even some of the greatest minds of Norrath are suffering disturbing bouts of paranoia now.
Some do claim to know what is happening across the lands, but they are easily dismissed. They are the priests of Discord -- an order of disorder -- that has always been accepted as a necessary nuisance for most cities. They have simply been tolerated for centuries.
These past months, the priests have been more wild-eyed than usual, almost excited. They claim the time has come; the way of discord and chaos is at Norrath's door.
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