[center][b]Eye of Anhara, Pelor's Crypt.[/b][/center]
It was the third night since the Equinox - a time celebrated in commemoration of the birth of Anhara - and the festival had finally wound to an end. Half of Schwarzenburg was drunk and broke; the other half was sober and flush with cash. And yet the priesthood of Anhara, whose faith had been predominant in Sabiland for all of living memory, was scarcely to be seen. The Eye, the fortress's most influential priest (some said he was blessed with prophetic vision), slammed his paw down on a table far beneath the black walls of the castle. [b]"Enough!"[/b]
The bickering clergy gradually fell silent. 
[b]"I saw it with my own eyes. You saw it. Even the kids saw it." [/b]The ninetales, unusually tall for his kind and blind in one eye, gestured toward the diminutive group huddled at the end of the long table. There, Feuertanz ducked his head, leaning into the nearest acolyte, who murmured and stroked his ears to calm him.

"[b]Twice a year,"[/b] began the fox, good eye glimmering by the light of the fire. [b]"Twice a year on the equinox, Anhara chooses which students will ascend. She redistributes her power among her faithful. But we all saw the fire in the sky. We felt the earth shake. And not one among our order has found her spark. Our foremost have lost... a considerable amount of their power. My own dreams are of pain and of fear. What many of you do not know, however.." [/b]Here, he paused, and after a gesture a pair of attendants rolled out a long weathered map on the table...



[center][b]Feuertanz, Schwarzenburg Gate[/b][/center]
The next morning, Feuertanz stood very nervously at the gates of the fortress wearing his jet black acolyte's robes - black, with a line of crimson thread down the spine, and double bars down the front. A small insignia was emblazoned over his heart, an iconographic star with a single unblinking pupil. The mark of Anhara. He clutched in one paw a rolled up map and in the other the strap of a small satchel that he'd slung over his shoulder. The young quilava was grateful for the insulation provided by the thick woolen robe in the crisp morning air. 

For all that was wrong with the world, it was still a beautiful morning. He paused to appreciate this, the scent of pine in the cold air, and to watch his hot breath turn to mist. Who would join him? He'd spent the whole night before handing out flyers. An expedition! An adventure. Reports had been filtering in since the Equinox, and none of it made a lot of sense. Lights in the middle of the night, unlike anything the scouts had seen before - floating, or high in the air, mostly around the ruined city to the north. His map said it was called Mannheim. Would it be dangerous for an unseasoned acolyte to venture into the wilderness? Of course it would. But he... felt the need to see what lay beyond Sabiland. He felt ... drawn to the north. The feeling was indescribable, almost magnetic - and he could nearly taste it. And... maybe even more importantly... he knew that north lay the Pillar. But he couldn't put that kind of stuff in the fliers! 



[center][b]Nihonto, Schwarzenburg Square[/b][/center]
Much less appreciative of the cool morning air, a singular and very recognizable typhlosion stood in the castle's square. Nihonto was more or less right-hand-man to the Duke - a Knight of relatively moderate standing but whose eccentricities had become well known. He stuck his nose into everything after all - he drunk, he whored, and he kept the peace. Sometimes he took it upon himself to perform law enforcement duties within his master's land, even to collect taxes and mediate local affairs.

So for those familiar with his eccentric reputation, perhaps it wasn't a surprise that he stood here, ruby-colored sword planted in the nearly frozen ground beneath the Moeri flag on the tail end of his speech. "Any takers, men of Sabiland?" He rose his voice as he addressed the crowd - gathered either out of interest or curiosity of the spectacle. My lord's men are stretched far too thin - he cannot possibly spare the manpower to march north. Instead I must turn to you. I need a small squad to accompany me to the north. Do you all remember the earthquake on the first night of Equinox? The way the sky lit up, as if the sun had risen all over again? We've received reports that, north of Mannheim, fire descended from the sky. It swallowed up two entire villages and left nothing but ashe and glass. A neighboring wildling tribe has also suffered tremendous casualties. We do not know what has caused this. But we need to know. I ask again: Any takers?"