*From the tan pages of an ancient brass-hinged leatherbound tome titled "History of Norrath Volume 29"*
Pillars of black smoke poured into the air as the camps and dwellings of the Frogloks burned. A river of bodies flowed from the bloodsoaked Commonlands to the doors of Gukta. Thousands of bodies baked under the hot sun in the lands of Rathe Mountains. Ykesha's army had cut through the lands of Antonica like a sharp cleaver and changed the face of Norrath forever.
From his twisted tower under the earth, Xon Quexill stood in red flowing robes, drinking a red liquid from a crystal goblet. His mind's eye saw Lord Ykesha sitting on a throne of Froglok skulls, the ancient troll's huge sword resting on his lap. Ykesha watched as trolls hoisted up a chained dwarven body in the center of Grobb's courtyard. Warlord Ykesha smiled and hundreds of miles away, Xon Quexill smiled as well. The lord-necromancer's intricate plot and his dark ceremony had worked perfectly.
All across Norrath, city leaders sighed in relief. Their cities stood untouched from the threatening armies. Slowly the elven guardians outside of Felwithe recalled to the city and to their former lives.
Even the adventurers who fought in the battles quickly forgot the bloodshed they had seen a month before. Quickly the daily squabbles in Freeport and the defense against gnollish tribes in High Pass continued as they had for centuries. Life returned to its former state.
But not for all.
Hundreds of Froglok refugees, their numbers cut nearly in half in the battle of Innothule and the siege of Gukta, walked with heads low from their former city to the refugee camps in the southern plateau of the Rathe mountains. Ogre brigands and hostile wildlife cut further into the survivors of the fall of Gukta.
The tent city grew wide within the plateau, housing the survivors of Gukta and attempting a return to order. The Guktans quickly prepared defenses for their people. Slowly political power resurfaced and the children of Marr stood up their temples.
Not all of the Guktans returned to the old ways, however.
Whispers spoke of sects of Frogloks touched by Xon Quexill's curse in the swamps of Innothule. Late night searches revealed evidence of dark ceremony. Deep gouges filled with blood formed horrible symbols on the packed earth. Dissected and mutilated bodies hung upside down from the trees. Strange text unknown to Guktan researchers filled the discoverers with an unknown fear. Some Guktans whispered of Froglok assassins training in poisons and stealth. If they could not take back Gukta with direct force, perhaps they could take it back with murder, deception, and terror.
When asked how his people would live on in these new times and asked if the Frogloks would one day seek revenge for Ykesha's attack, one proud and noble froglok said three simple words:
"The Fist Strikes."
Kandrow Seawinter
Nine Hundred and Fourth Researcher of Norrathian History Twenty third day in the month of the Red Sun, 4264 PD
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