Heroes came from the Ice Islands: a short-bearded woodsman, a stout blacksmith’s son, a chorus girl, a nomad trader, and a Beast God priest. Called by the gods to serve, they traveled from the misty islets to the bountiful lowland wilderness to the brilliant cold of High Table, performing heroics pedestrian and fantastic.

Surviving a misguided expedition, they sought their fortune in glorious deeds, cutting down the meek and foreign like dry stalks. And none withstood their terrible vigor, for never before had life blushed so fully, gathered up in a heedless embrace. But must each glory be remade? And was there no plenty that would keep itself?

Even beyond the familiar waters of home, outside the restless grip of violence, the Dread God’s gaze stretched without limit. And he saw the inescapable truth reflected on his Stew of Souls: Every step we take brings us closer to our fate.