Never had this happened before.

Not the marshalling of men and the sharpening of blades, the last night of unblemished calm before a great bloodletting - that had happened many a time. For as long as living beings had walked the world, there had been war, and war would go on for as long as men were alive to wage it. Something about this one was different, though, and as Dorian Ad-Elyan trudged through the encampment he tried to put a finger on what it was. It wasn't the camp itself that was different, although it was by far the largest Dorian had ever seen. The characters assembled here were of an eclectic sort, but that wasn't unusual in itself. To march wide-eyed into a land ruled by godless terrors bound neither to life nor death required a certain eccentricity, and this unconventional bunch certainly fit the description.

Dorian passed a disgruntled dwarf, cooking what smelled like bacon in a small pan over an open flame. Several other dwarfs in similar attire had formed a circle around him and were holding a large shield over his head to keep their meal from being cut short by the weather. Seeing this, it suddenly occurred to Dorian how lacklustre his preparations had been. All he had done before leaving the inn was sharpen his sword and fill his water flask. He hadn't even brought a tent, though he saw no need for one. He had slept many nights under the stars.

He even began to doubt his very presence here - when he answered the Duchess' call he had pictured a swift incursion into Undying territory, perhaps to support a larger force, or strike quickly at a key stronghold before reinforcements could be called to defend it, but the number and quality of soldiers gathered around him was enough to fight a war or spearhead a full scale invasion. Would they be fighting pitched battles? The men Dorian could see were certainly prepared for it - some of them were so thickly armoured they looked as though they could charge down a rampaging bull and win. Clad only in sturdy leather and a thick, emerald cloak, Dorian felt almost naked by comparison.

He stopped when he reached the hastily-erected stage, and the answer finally struck him. These men and women were not gathering to defend their territory, they were gathering to reclaim it. Now that he had identified it, he could feel it; even hear it, crackling through the air like thunder. It was hope. The only hope the people of the three kingdoms had ever had was that of survival - the faintest, most desperate hope that their city wouldn't be the next to fall to the Undying hordes. Dorian looked around at the nearby tents again and this time he could see it, too. That's what had never happened before - the real, tangible hope that for once, the living could turn the tide against the dead.