Midmorning sun shone upon the stolen ship, floating motionless in the Myra river save for the occasional rocking in response to a particularly strong breeze rolling in from the plains to the east. All four of its occupants stood on deck, equidistant from one another, forming the corners of a square. Moros and Eris both crossed their arms in impatience, while Malady merely stood, intimidating yet serene, devoid of any emotion. They formed an odd assemblage; an elderly man in noble rogues, an emaciated northerner clothed in rags and a cloak, a squat woman with no extraordinary characteristics, and an ominous, looming witch. After some time, Aeternam flashed open his eyes, leaned upon his staff, and began.

“So. Now we number four. In the old days four would have been enough, but two of us don't fit the old mold. Ever so slightly incompatible, you, Eris, and you, Malady, prevent us from regaining the source of our power. The Keepers we will no doubt encounter on this world draw their strength from their Dungeon Heart, while its humans attain their magic from the radiation of Elysium's sun. Our magic is different, older and unlike any other, both more difficult and more powerful. The byword of our kin is this: unity.”

After a moment to let that sink in to the newcomers -as Moros already knew this well-, Aeternam continued. “Alone, we are less than Keepers. Together, we are greater than anything. When united, the Four of the past could survive any assault and defeat any foe. When we are joined by our two remaining brothers and final sister, we can reignite the power and shed these human forms. For now, though we are four, we are unable to do it. However, enough strength exists in this unity that we can utilize it to better our position somewhat by performing an infusion. Before that can happen, however, you women will need to absolve yourself of any doubt in yourself and in our cause.”

While the snow-white eyebrows of Malady were piqued in interest, Aeternam found nothing but skepticism in the eyes of Eris. “I am no magician,” she began, “And I've seen nothing that couldn't be a sorcerer's illusion. I've been alive long enough to know a thing or two about the magic of Elysium. Draining life is child's play to a necromancer, enchanted weapons are nothing new to my sand pits. Your light show back in sludgeville might have convinced the witch but I'm not so easily impressed. I already sacrificed a bunch of stuff to come on this little adventure, but I' will not gamble away my entire life's work on your theory.” It seemed that a lifetime of dealing with warriors and magic, combined with a haughty, doubtful perspective, rendered Eris unable to accept her destiny. Moros buried his forehead in his hands, and Aeternam visibly sagged, becoming at once feeble and defeated. Any method they had of possibly proving the reality of their position would simply be dismissed as mundane magic. A few seconds passed before Malady's lips parted. “Sometimes,” she spoke in heavy islander accent, “To reap ultimate reward, we must gamble. The money from gladiator pit is small. To rule the world, to orchestrate its end...that is truly great. You are not so brave as I thought, Fury.”

“Not so brave, is it?” came the retort. “I'm not so stupid, either, so none of your ribbing will work.” Moros rolled his eyes, obviously missing the near-telepathic level of cooperation shared by his brothers. His gaze landed on Aeternam, who gave a discreet nod. “Alright, princess, we get it. You won't gamble with your life. Thing is, we kinda need you, and I can absorb enough of your essence to complete the infusion with or without your consent. Thing is, you'll die in the process, so your choice is this: gamble it or lose it. Understand.”

Eris's mouth was open, fiery words loaded for use, when she did understand. Before she had relied on the knowledge that she was too important to be threatened, but in the wake of Moros's ultimatum, she suddenly seemed rather expendable. She ground her teeth, rage plastered across her face. “Fine!” she finally erupted, “I'll do what you bastards want.”

Several minutes later, the four reconvened on the deck. Each held an item found aboard the ship or on their person. At Aeternam's instruction, each laid a hand on the item of the person to their right, and as they did so, the items began to glow red, gray, green, and yellow for Eris, Aeternam, Malady and Moros respectively. This magic spread across the hands and arms of those holding the items until, all at once, the glows met and created a confined explosion of energy. Each of the four was pushed back, but none fell to the ground. They regarded their items with assorted curiosity and satisfaction; whereas before they had held a compass, an urn, the needle staff, and a length of rope, they now held arcane artifacts.

Eris's rope had become a whip, deep burgundy and covered in thin spikes that, while currently laying flat, could stand erect to pierce armor and flesh alike. Though already a nasty implement, it had become even more lethal by growing to the size of a spear, tipped with a huge bonesaw and enveloped in barbed wire. Meanwhile, the urn of Moros had grown larger, becoming a dull, desaturated brown embossed with green and pale gold. “We have means to flay and kill foes, “ commented Malady, “But you have a way to feed us?” Moros reached within and found hard, white grains of rice. “Not food,” he said, tossing them onto the deck. “Hunger.” As the four watched, the rice rapidly grew in size, becoming ghastly green skeletons in a matter of seconds. The skeletons wailed hauntingly, but when Moros directed them to the rigging, they dutifully went to prepare the ship for travel.

Aeternam held in his hand a compass, black and red, with no features except a single pointer, which currently faced east. “Weapons, minions, and a way to find our kin.”