The call went out in the vicinity of Diublinn. The Lord Mayor, Sir John Drake, had word that Clan O'Byrne was planning to attack the city. Drake has a reputation of fairness and generosity toward all of the people of the city, so when Drake spread word that he was assembling a force to meet the O'Byrne Clan, many responded. The O'Byrnes and their allies were met at Dusk, near Castle Carrickmines, and a large battle ensued. The Irish force was routed, and began to flee. The majority of the English force pursued them.
Drake's brother, Sir Brendan, ordered those within earshot (the party) to follow him into the castle. As the group began to catch their breath and tend to their various wounds, each member of the group felt an irresistible urge to gather in the bailey. They were met there by a rare and shocking sight.
The clouds above them parted, and as the moon broke through the clouds, the party realized that a newcomer had appeared amongst them. The figure was striking, but there was something else – a feeling of destiny, of connecting with something eternal and yet final – that made the hair stand up on the back of their necks. She stood around nine feet tall and appeared extremely delicate and slender, yet there was an enormous power beyond her apparent frailty. She wore a long, rough, brown, fur-lined leather robe, with a large pair of mithral shears tucked in the belt. Her long black hair fell below her waist. She pulled a number of threads from a skein at her side and began to weave them together. With a piercing gaze, she gazed into the souls of each person present, and uttered the following words:
Whether you have come by choice or chase,
You are bound together and to this place.
Whether you choose to stay or fly
If this castle falls, that day shall you die.
But worse than this you may live to see.
Across the water shall come three,
Given by father at legacy’s cost
To take revenge for three that were lost.
A mother wept at three sons’ taking,
And now she seeks three ways of unmaking.
The time of her return is nigh
When a streak of fire touches sky.
Once she finished speaking, she slowly faded away. One of the group, a Norse witch, spoke up. “This creature was a Norn,” she said, “a powerful fey creature. They are born at the leveling of a great curse.”
Just then, the priest Arthur heard screams of pain beyond the castle walls. Several of the group rushed up onto the ramparts, and saw several humanoid figures moving among the fallen on the field. Closer observation revealed ghouls feeding on the dead and near-dead.
The two warriors ran into combat with reckless abandon and were quickly surrounded by the ghouls. The fey-blooded Duskblade, Cocidius, was paralyzed by a ghoul’s bite and fell in battle. Arthur rushed to assist and was also paralyzed. Völve, the witch, wove a tapestry of blessings and curses to aid her allies. Fisk used her bardic magic to create a patch of slick soil beneath some of the ghouls, who fell prone. Granuile fired several magic missiles at one of the more powerful ghouls. Eventually, the warrior  destroyed the last of the undead creatures.