Harrowing the Hook

The great rains turn to driving snow as winter comes with a fury upon the Hook. Autumn is a forgotten dream as cutting wind lances through wool and leather, and treacherous ice crawls along the mountainside. Life is cruel and short on the Hook, more now than ever as winter sinks her teeth into its crags. Near the twisted peak of the notorious mountain, the forges of the Kreeg Ogres ring out with renewed vigor,
they have lost Fort Rannick, but their anger lives on !

The clanhold itself is a large cave. The Kreegs have lived here for generations, and the walls and ceilings are thick with the soot of their fires. The caves are roomy, even for Ogres. Passageways average 25 feet high, while the caverns themselves tend to have vaulted domelike ceilings up to 50 feet tall.

Constant flurries of windborne snow and frost lash at a gaping hole in the side of Hook Mountain. Smoke pours forth from the cave entrance, only to be instantly dispersed by the wind.
At the mouth of darkness, jagged spurs of bone protrude from the stone on either side of the cave entrance, each towering 20 feet in height, apparantly the ribs of some monstrous Behemoth.
An enormous statue stands here in frozen vigil, a 40 feet tall Giant with black skin covered by fissures and cracks, like the bed of a dried river.
He wears majestic armor, gilded and encrusted with gems, and grips a towering glaive in his armored fists.
The Giant's face is hidden by a ferocious full helm, forged into a sneering grimace of a fanged devil. Around the Giant's neck hangs a medaillon,
a seven-pointed star..