On the road to Candlekeep, as the firelight grows dim and conversation lulls behind full bellies and travel weariness, Reya speaks up, softly at first.

“It was a hundred years ago now. The Great Troubles began. It’s taught in schoolhouses as this far off event, but in taverns and inns it is still spoken of as if it were yesterday.

“At first, it was just a sighting here or there. Fiends, mostly small and more annoying than anything, began roaming the lands to the north and west of Elturel. They began spoiling fields, pestering farmers. But quickly their numbers, size, and ferocity grew. Soon they were slaughtering livestock, then shortly after razing homes. Folks in the countryside began to disappear, quietly, then… less so. Travelers wove harrowing tales and the reports came closer to the city limits. Before anyone could really react, people were being dragged off the streets to terrible and unknowable fates. Panic gripped the city.

“The leaders mobilized the city’s cavalry. They rode across the land, striking down whatever fiends they could. But they suffered great losses. And, for all their courage and effort, it was never enough. Each fiend they destroyed seemed to be replaced by two more. Each soldier they lost made the next wave twice as hard to stand against.

“The ruler of Elturel at the time was called The High Rider. She stood before the city and asked that everyone pray to the gods for aid. The people complied, but none expected an answer.”

Reya pauses to take a sip of ale. As she speaks she stares into the fire, the red-orange embers reflected in her dark eyes.

“To everyone’s astonishment, the next day a mighty angel entered the city. She spoke in a clear voice like a bell that carried across the city and into the surrounding country. She called herself Zariel. The name means, ‘Companion of Light.’ The people rejoiced because their prayers had been heard and answered: help had arrived.

“Zariel soared high into the sky and located the gate which was granting the fiends access to the natural world. She returned and declared that the gate was to the west, constructed upon the Fields of the Dead. The angel declared that she would lead the cavalry and any courageous enough to join in a charge against the gate, and through it—straight into Avernus—and that she would destroy the infernal host that amassed there.”

Reya’s voice lowers to nearly a whisper. “She said this would strike a crippling blow against the forces of darkness.”

After a long pause, Reya resumes the tale. “The High Rider asked for volunteers, asked the people of Elturel to volunteer their horses and their able-bodied sons and daughters who could wield a blade to this cause. Thousands answered the call, and they rode forth with Zariel leading the charge, riding on a great golden mastodon.”

“They cut down the dark creatures spewing from the gate and tormenting the innocents, and did not break stride until the army charged through the gate. On the other side they found scores—legions—of fiends, amassed and waiting, bloodthirsty and cruel. The fighting raged for days and Zariel was shrewd and the cavalry was brave. Avernus’s legions trembled, and buckled.

“But they did not crumble.”

Reya looks up, the vastness of the stars seeming to offer her some degree of comfort. “Zariel was defeated. Overwhelmed by the hordes, the army’s glorious general succumbed, but she did so standing on a pile of broken aberrations and powerful fiendish generals stacked a mile deep. The remnants of her army retreated, falling back through the gate they sealed behind them. They returned to the city and related the tale of Zariel’s demise to The High Rider. All of Elturel grieved for Zariel, but they were confident that Avernus’s losses were so great, the lords of the Nine Hells would think twice before threatening Elturel again.”

A small smile settles on Reya’s lips as she at last looks into each companion’s eyes. “The valiant knights of the cavalry were honored with grand celebrations lasting weeks. They became known as Hellriders, their bravery at the very gate of Hell unparalleled, their legacy secure, their reputation reverberating across Elturgard and beyond.

“I have wanted to be a Hellrider since I was able to walk. I am one of the youngest in my unit and I will follow my forebears straight onto Asmodeus’s doorstep if that’s what it takes to save my city.”