The Great Plague

At the center of the circle the Druid Hierophant Lich Fachaun stood. Nine concentric circles of druids swayed to the rhythmic pounding of the waves at the base of the forest cliffs. The Grand Druid, Great Druid, Arch Druid, Druid, and Initiate of the Ninth Circle clutched one anothers hands in a strange mixture of fear and elation as the ritual approached its apex. While each feared Fachaun, they had over the years come to trust their Hierophant. In all of Th'n Bolak no creature had sacrificed more for the preservation of Nature’s Balance. Fachaun’s very soul had been forfeit to the cause. The Ninth Circle was the only that knew the Hierophant’s secret, as much to keep them from attempting to raise themselves to Hierophant as to compel trust, Fachaun had spent a century bringing the region under his sway. And only now with the moons at their perfect symmetry was the Hierophant able to call forth Pestilence and set forth Plague upon those attempting to wreck the destruction of civilization upon the sacred groves. Fachaun sought through this single act of absolute devotion to redeem himself to the Godess Melora and hear her voice once more.
It has been 13 days since the great ritual. And the Great Plague has decimated the land.