120 years ago, a group of settlers from the Kingdom of Stormwind ventured into The Swamp of Sorrows after an expedition commissioned by King Lerian II found large deposits of bog iron past the outlying fens. The plentiful fishing in the area made it an alluring destination for pioneers wishing to leave behind heavy farm labor and strike out on their own.

5 years after the first human settlement of Blackmarsh was established, the town was besieged by the Darkfang, a tribe of trolls, and the settlers were driven back to the larger city of Fanetide. Shortly after the destruction of the village, the people of the village sent a delegation back to the city of Stormwind to petition the King and the clerics of Northshire Abbey for aid. After hearing the pleas of the beleaguered peasants, Bishop Renauld Grandsmith commissioned the paladin Sir Arman of Tenvere to lead a force into the swamp to drive back the trolls and re-establish the human foothold in the marsh. Gathering members from the Abbey and several other knightly orders in the kingdom, Arman was gifted two silver bells from the church which hung from his standard, including a copy of the charter commissioning him and his group.

The troops quickly encountered the Darkfang and their murloc minions just outside the boundaries of Fanetide, where they beat the trolls back to the northern mountains. Lord Arman claimed the valley as his barony, renaming himself the Baron Blackscale, and establishing the surviving soldiers as members of an elite order to be known as the "Fenguard".

Unfortunately, the Lord's expedition had completely failed to find, identify, or defeat the actual source of evil that drove the trolls and their murloc servants to attack the human settlements...

Lord Arman of Blackscale established his baronial seat at a newly-constructed castle situated in the center of the valley atop Moss Hill. Blackscale Castle took years to complete, but the barony’s finances were up to the task. Several hamlets were established under Lord Arman's long rule, and the fledgling barony appeared on its way to success.

For forty years, the people of Blackscale Valley lived in solitude and growing prosperity. The Baron grew old and complacent, and membership in the Fenguard became little more than an honorific. Easy times bred a softer people.

That was when the green dragon Ecallariaspore, known among humankind as Eclipse, awoke. Ancient and grand, she had slumbered for a century, awakening only to lay a single, jade egg so that a hatchling might rise and find its own dark domain. When Eclipse, Green Dragon of the Lagoon, saw that human interlopers had dared to usurp her land while she slept, she responded with caustic vengeance.

On a single, moonless night, Eclipse turned Castle Blackscale to little more than a pile of melted slag. Lord Blackscale, abandoned by the Fenguard, was buried beneath the rubble within moments of the alarm being raised. By dawn, only a single village remained: Fanetide. The last true Fenguard, Gias Geach, charged as steward of the town, raised his spear in the rising sun and cast it to the sky, striking Eclipse in the breast. The dragon fled into the mountains and was never seen again. Gias, not certain of his victory, tracked the wounded serpent to its mountain hideaway.

According to the legend of Gias Geach, he encountered a tribe of trolls in the mountains, who worshipped Eclipse as a goddess. Gias slew the tribe, struck a final blow to the wounded dragon, and returned to Fanetide. Gias died upon the altar of the temple in the center of town under mysterious circumstances weeks after the raid. That was fifty years ago and though Fanetide has known peace since that time, prosperity has not returned to Blackscale Valley.

This lone village lingers in the shadow of the ruined Castle Blackscale and the village is led by the waning Cult of Geach, who worship him as a lesser Light Blessed - a mortal who is able to work divine miracles after death. Isolated and humble, they live simple lives. Those who recall the slaying of Eclipse are reaching the end of their days and few recall the past as more than local myth. The past has been all but forgotten and seems destined to repeat itself…