![]() ![]() In Bilgewater, drunken sailors trade accounts of something standing alone on a tiny, distant atoll from which no one has ever returned. In the Freljord, children frighten each other around the fire with tales of a monster that raises itself from untended graves in the ice, its body a shambling mass of helmets, bucklers, furs, and wood. Something the world had desperately tried to forget-and in an instant, the mage, the creature, and the tower itself were lost to all of time. Something darker than a yawning, starless night. What stepped before the boy was something older than recorded history. Long, long ago, in a tower by the edge of the sea, a foolish young mage summoned something into the world that he was not prepared to control. Beware the sounding of the crow, or the whispering of the shape that appears almost human… Fiddlesticks has returned. Wielding a jagged scythe, the haggard, makeshift creature reaps fear itself, shattering the minds of those unlucky enough to survive in its wake. The ageless horror known as Fiddlesticks stalks the edges of mortal society, drawn to areas thick with paranoia where it feeds upon terrorized victims. ![]()
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