It was a glum summer's day, overcast and foreboding. Rain was swelling the clouds, turning them a shade of dark grey, and a harsh wind was starting to pick up from the west. A storm was coming.

Imperator Gaius had been through a tough morning; six of his men had vanished in the night, and his patrols had failed to find them. It was possible they had deserted, as sometimes happened in this Gods forsaken corner of the world, but something just didn't feel right. They were dead, taken by unwashed hands - he had no evidence, there had been no reports of foul play from the other dozens of senties that patrolled his base of operations, but somehow he knew.

Brushing aside two guards at the entrance of his private quarters, he shoved the doors open with unnecessary fervor. A clerk chased him, falling over his toga and failing to keep steady a stack of worn parchments that balanced in his arms. The Imperator looked back at the man, and his iron stare sent the clerk into a quick U-turn. Now was not the time for administrative horse crap.

Gaius marched past his oaken king sized bed - the only luxury of his employment - and dismissed a couple of comely lasses who sat at the head of it. They feigned pain at his dismissal, but he knew they were inwardly relieved that his cock didn't need servicing. He wasn't exactly a handsome man, squat with a balding head and a nose that could break through a concrete wall. Still, he was the Emperor's elected chosen in Iron Coast, for what little that meant, which allowed him to walk with a certain arrogant dignity regardless of his appearance.

A molding linen curtain hung in the way of the balcony, and he brushed it aside with a grunt. His meaty hands gripped a wooden railing, and he looked out across Campus Magnus. It was a cesspit of human filth; an eternal military camp, composed of wooden stakes, filthy tents, cooking fires and huddled masses of soldiers and camp followers. He had often joked to his officers that it was the largest of its kind in the Empire, and now looking at it with some objectivity, he felt he might be right. The Emperors had never provided the resources to establish a fortress, nor the men to make safe the land. Thus, here he was, in a glorified camp with an army of bastards too unfit to serve on the frontiers.

"Gaius, it's been a while," came a throaty remark to the left.

Gaius turned, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and looked upon a man draped in a black cloak three sizes too big for him; the stranger sat perched upon a crude wooden chair - part of the balcony's austere furniture. "In the name of the Emperor, identify yourself or I'll have your head on a spike."

The man chuckled, and threw his hood back to reveal an unfamiliar face; he was handsome and youthful, but his eyes glowed with magical menace. Gaius had seen such eyes before, when he had first assumed the position of Iron Coast's Imperator. "Excuse my beauty, I've been perfecting my craft," the man said, smiling.

"So," Gaius remarked, relaxing. "I am once again graced by the Hero of the East. To what do I owe this honour?"

"Information," the man replied. Gaius knew him as Gripus Probus, a once famed member of the Imperial Magi. "Your message speaks of an evil arising to the west."

Gaius grunted, "Aye, my scouts oft make the perilous journey to the tower of he who shall not be named. They keep an eye on things for me, they let me know if the dead are planning anything."

"And by the sounds of it, they are?" Gripus asked.

Gaius nodded. "My scouts tell of a Wraith in the tower, who is drawing hundreds of those monstrosities to it. They say it is gathering a host, and if this is true, then we're royally fucked."

Gripus remained silent for some time, deep in thought, but finally he looked up at the Imperator. "These men, they are sure?"

"My men are always sure, and do you truly think I would risk emptying Iron Coast's coffers on hearsay?" The Imperator snapped, seemingly offended.

Gripus sighed, "I guess not. Then come, tell me everything, every last detail of their report."

The Imperator nodded, and took a seat beside the Hero of the East.

Looking up into the sky, Luca smiled softly at the gathering clouds. He loved a good storm, and this one was promising to be powerful. The strong winds blew his hair back from his face and made the corners of his cloak snap like a flag on high. Thick and warm, the gray cloak had a mantle of pitch-black feathers that covered the hood and surrounded the cleric's shoulders. These feathers shifted in the wind, lifting a little with each gust. Snow stood behind him, reins in his hand while he leaned against her warm flank. The mare pawed at the ground restlessly, mane and tail flowing in the wind.

"Relax, Snow. We will find some shelter soon. I happen to enjoy this weather, so you're just going to have to deal with it a little longer," Luca said, lifting one hand to pat Snow's neck. She did not respond to his words, but his touched calmed the horse and she lowered her head to pull at the sparse grass growing up between two stones of the paved streets. The two stood near the center of Actium, at one edge of a market square. He had a no particular plans at the moment nor an inn in mind to spend the evening, but there was still plenty of time to work that out. For now, he was more than content to watch the storm roll in. The Summer air had taken on a bit of a chill, but it could not pierce his cloak.

Deciding that his horse had the right idea in getting something to eat, Luca starts towards a wooden stall at a slow walk. Snow's hooves clatter on the paving stones, and his staff adds an additional percussion to the noise. The polished wood was cool and smooth against his hand, and he used it as any might use a walking stave. Hawking her wares, the vendor offered fist-sized meat pies and other pastry buns. Reaching into the folds of his robes, Luca produces a small palm-full of coins and a square of white cloth.

"Four, please," he says to the older woman on the other side of the stall. "Any will do, as long as they are warm."

"That's coin enough for six," the woman says, busying her hands under the counter. From an insulated storage she retrieves the requested food and places it on the cloth. Luca folds the kerchief around them, but not before removing one. The bundle is pleasantly warm as he slips it into his robes, and he makes no move to reclaim any of his money.

"Then take two for yourself, if you feel you must, or find someone who needs them more. I need only four," Luca explains nonchalantly before biting into the bun in his hand. Humming with satisfaction, he raises his other hand in farewell to the woman before turning on his heel and starting away. There was an inn across the square, and he needed to secure lodgings for himself and his horse for the night.

"Umu." Pyria groaned in disappointment and dejection as the cold daggers of wind pierced through her meager and tattered clothing. Looking up at the sky, she recognized the patterns of weather shifting. It would be nice if she could find a warm and cozy place to huddle up and sleep, even though she knew she had been given the short stick. But one could only hope, right?

The dragon whelp examined her surroundings. Actium wasn't the most forthcoming of towns, and the locals were getting a little too tired of having a ten year old girl pestering them for food and lodgings. With the ever present threat of the undead, most people had hardened significantly. It wasn't helping that back in her mind, there was a nagging feeling of setting her instincts free. Burn them. Burn the hairless monkeys. Reap their flesh for your sustenance. Even she knew better than to listen to her short-sighted instincts. Sure, she could turn into her actual true form and start eating people, but in the end run, she would only make more enemies.

Clutching her quivering stomach with her manacled hand, she was instead peeking in the back of one of Actium's inn. Inns, sometimes threw up food that was still edible. She herself had seen it. But that was before her actual master had been killed. "Damn you." She said inbetween her teeth. "For a self proclaimed elite magus, you didn't last much." the kid hissed beneath her teeth as she continued rummaging through the trash.

And then, a sharp voice. "HEY, STOP MESSING WITH THAT YOU DAMN KID!" The infuriated figure of an innkeeper yelled as he strode past the inn door, frypan in hand. It was the cue to get out. Pyria bit her lip, as she started to run for it, back into the square. But it wasn't for long, as a sharp blow to the head cut her run short. How does he manage to be that accurate with a frypan- She cursed as she fell face first on the cool pavement of the square. And then, someone yanked her leg, and lifted her up in the air. Not good.

"IF I SEE YOU PROWLING AGAIN YOU'RE GOING TO BE IN THE SPECIAL ROAST, DAMN KID!" The innkeeper puffed, as he tossed Pyria against the ground -again- and picked up his frypan. Pyria was about to cry. Or would be if she was just a human kid. There was it, a newcomer in a steed. With a quick glance, she knew this guy -or was it a girl?- had some gear that a peasant couldn't possibly afford. That feathery cloak seemed particulary fancy.

"Umu." She put her best gameface and puppy eyes. Maybe she could get lucky today still. She straightened her ragged dress and got up quickly as she dragged her feet and cupped her hands, just like she had seen many beggars do before. "Spare a coin for a poor orphan?" She said, her nose bloodied by the impact and red hair frazzled up.

Imperator Gaius drained a wooden mug of Ecostian wine, and winced at the sour taste. "This stuff never gets any easier to drink, no matter how much of the rat's piss they send over from Fort Octavius."

Gripus ignored the Imperator, too deep in thought to bother appreciating the man's coarse humour. He stared into his own wooden mug, into the crimson liquid within; glowing eyes looked back at him, his glowing eyes. The Imperator's report was worrisome, more so than anything Gripus Probus had ever contended with in the past. The evil stirring in the west was no mere Wraith, it was no crazy wizard bent on power - it wasn't a legion of the damned awaiting to drive the Empire from Iron Coast. No, it was something much worse.

"So, Hero of the East, what's your plan?" The Imperator asked, his tongue stumbling over the words in a drunken haze. "You going to sally forth? Slay the evil and rid us of this curse?" There was much sarcasm and mockery in his drink-addled tone.

Gripus looked up from his mug then, suddenly becoming aware of the fierce burning the Ecostian wine was wreaking on his nasal cavity. "If what I fear is true, then I alone cannot accomplish this task," he said, bitterly and with a hint of guilt. "In fact, I doubt that the Empire itself has the strength to repel the coming darkness."

The Imperator nodded slowly, appraising Gripus with a furrowed brow. "It is Magnor, isn't it? The whoreson is back, to finish what he started?"

The very mention of Magnor's name sent Gripus' mind spinning through a winding tunnel of vibrant, bloody memories full of terror and death. The faces of his brothers, their features twisted in anguish, their rib cages bursting open with black magic. In the middle of the swirling carnage was a man, impossibly tall, wearing plated mail the colour of coal; a cape of purple billowing around his form. The man's pale and gaunt face, riddled with decay, looked at Gripus and raised a hand alight with green flame.

Suddenly the invisible injuries beneath Gripus' youthful visage burned with real pain, and with a flinch the memories dissipated like a morning fog. "I know not, but it is a distinct possibility," he said, his breathing suddenly labored. "If Magnor has returned, then he must be stopped, lest the world succumb to an eternal nightmare."

Gaius did not seem too bothered by the prediction of damnation, and proceeded to pour himself another mug of the putrid wine. "How is it that one such as Magnor comes to be, anyway? Wasn't he just a merchant?"

Gripus made to rise, and shot the Imperator an irritated gaze. "Not all men are born equal," he muttered. "Anyway, I thank you for your help, but I must take leave."

Gaius nodded, and waved the Hero of the East away. "Any advice?"

Gripus turned, throwing his hood back over his head. "Yes, gather all of your men, and march on the tower before all is lost."

The Imperator looked to sober slightly, but then his face reddened and he burst out into roaring laughter; his mug shook, sloshing wine across the wooden boards beneath him. "Gather the men he says! March on the tower!" More laughing followed.

The Hero of the East sighed, the Imperator was a man lost to a hidden illness of lunacy and fatalism, or so it seemed. Without the badge of the Imperial Magi to avail him, Gripus could not hope to command any men into battle, and so the task fell to him to put asleep an evil so great - as should have been done many years ago, when he was young.

Still, there had to be someone out there that could help him; no doubt bands of adventurers had been arriving in Iron Coast by the dozens. Some among them would prove the allies he sought, but finding those individuals would be a challenge by itself entirely.

"Oh, and before you go, Hero," the Imperator said, smiling with a madness in his eyes. "Did you hear of Fort Meridius? It fell last month; the Sand Elves are reclaiming their lands. Tell me, what exactly was the point of slaying Morven? Hero of the East sounds an empty title now."

Gripus felt a surge or arcane energy ripple up his spine, and into his gloved hands. He turned his blazing eyes on the Imperator, and for but a moment willed to blast the man into the next century - but no, he was not lost to madness, not like that fat fool. The world could and would be saved. Murdering lost sheep wasn't going to avail any cause. "Fair well, Gaius," he said with finality, and in a flash he vanished.

The mud and smell of human waste greeted him, as he appeared suddenly in the streets below the Imperator's tower. It was time to find heroes who had the will or want to do some good in the world, regardless of what motive drove them.

"A lone woman walked the roads on a path marked with death. And as night drew in..." a voice was raised in song, drifting through the chill air. The overcast day hid the cloaked individual from view, a chill wind from the West has them huddling for warmth. The figure continued their journey, and around a bend in the road, saw a mighty fortress made of cloth and wood.

Sighing, the figure rolled their shoulders back, standing tall, despite the short stature, they approached the "Permanent Palisade" the torches the sentries used to see those who came to Campus Magnus revealed the figure of a woman swathed in a black cloak. With a long white staff marked by intricate symbols in hand.

"Halt!" Called one of the sentries, stopping the figure turned to look at the sentry. "What's your business here, woman?" Rolling her eyes, the woman replied, "I have come to offer my skills in removing the scum in that gods-forsaken tower. I am an accomplished alchemist and my skills could prove very useful."

Standing still the woman's focused internal, she'd heard of the Imperator's dislike of magic and magic users. If necessary she would fight these men, slaughter if she can. But he worries proved for naught, the men stepped aside allowing her entrance.

"Watch your step, alchemist, we don't suffer fools here." The other sentry growled out, with contemptuous stress on the the word alchemist. Nodding the woman approached them, head bowed, arms straight at her sides. She never let a man, any man talk to her like that. Her fury at their disrespect galled her.

But, she knew that it was only the first in achieving her goals. Breathing in deeply, she let go of her anger and entered Campus Magnus.

What greeted her sight, was both more grand, andnless impressive than she thought. The smell in the air of unwashed bodies, and animals, the sight of tents running in a ram shackle sense of order. Like they've been there so long, that the tent's poles themselves are bowed in age.

And the people! Lady above, she expected there to be nothing but gruff soldier men. The kind a passable face could persuade to take her on the journey and do the heavy lifting. But no, she sees tired soldiers, and hard women, even a few children. Shaking her head, the woman walked between the tents.

She needed to find lodgings, and some way to find a passably strong warrior or some such for her journey. Approaching a large tent, she smelt cooking meat in the air.

A mess hall! Thank the Lady. Ducking into the tent, the woman entered. Walking towards the food pots, she called to the cooks. "Any food for a weary traveler?" The cooks nodded and handed her a bowl of some kind of...stew maybe. But it smelt amazing after her road rations so she wasn't complaining. Sitting down she dug into it with gusto.

When she was finished eating, she departed. Exiting the tent, she saw a young boy of short stature. Calling to him, she said that she heard there was trouble, Imperater Gaius was going to give a sum to any who could cleanse it. She needed him to gather some men for her, so she could go adventuring. "What's in it for me?" Scowling the woman drew out some coins. "Find me good men, and I'll give you more." Grinning cheekly, the boy ran off, raising a ruckus looking for soldiers to march on the tower. She hoped he found someone worth the coin she gave the boy.

Sitting against a tree, the woman sunk into meditation.

Moments later she could taste a surge of adrenaline in the air. Feel the snap of magic on her arms. Anger coiled tightly together. Gasping the woman's head flew up, looking for the source. Maybe she could convince...? No, a mage of that power in a place like that was most definitely tied to the empire, surely. Sighing she leaned back, letting wistful dreams go.

Having finished the bun he had started on, Luca made it nearly three quarters of the way across the square before the sound of a sharp impact caught his attention. Shouted words followed, and another muffled thump before whatever ordeal was taking place ended. Curious, Luca stood in place for a long moment, looking around. Moments later, a small voice caught his attention and he looked down to behold a red-haired young girl. Concern washed over his face when he saw blood and her tattered dress, and he took a knee next to her. The strange manacle held his attention for a moment, but was of less concern than the girl's needs.

"Poor girl, you must be cold and hurting," he said, raising a hand to smooth her hair. "Let your worries and hurts pass on, and be embraced by the Queen of Winter that she may protect you." As he uttered the blessing, his hand glowed with a soft blue light for a moment. The air around them grew heavy with magic, and Luca sighs as some of his vitality leaves him. The spell would cure the waif's hurts and shelter her from the cold wind for a time. Leaning against his staff, he closes his eyes for a brief moment.

"You're probably hungry as well, yes?" he soon asked. Reaching into the folds of his robe once more he extracts the bundle of rolls he had just purchased. Undoing the knot, Luca presents it to the beggar. "I have little coin as it is, but please share in this. Have you a warm place to stay tonight? I was about to secure a room, but I'm sure it will be big enough for the both of us," he offered, holding out the food. There was no way he could let the young girl stay out in the storm, even with his spell the elements might prove lethal.

Godric sat on a damp stone, sharpening the long sword across his lap. The cave reeked of decay. He and his fifty undead minions had been camped in this shallow cave east of Gallowsford for nearly three months now. He was used to this routine by now. He would receive his orders, carry them out as quickly as possible, and then return to this filthy dungeon for some ungodly amount of time. Since his banishment from the city, he had been given the task of cleaning up the messes of the master wraith of Gallowsford. Most of the time it was simple work, like hunting down an imperial patrol that wandered too far into the forest, or scaring away a band of foolish fortune-seekers. But not this time.

A lesser undead soldier came to Godric as he sat. "Riders have come from Gallowsford, my lord" it told him. A group of lesser undead, led by a lesser revenant marched towards him. This was the usual sort of rabble that Gedeon the Red, the wraith of Gallowsford sent to him, though something was different about these ones. Usually, they would bear the symbol of a blood red hand on their shoulders, which was the mark of Gedeon. However, these ones bore a crude image of a black sun, with a white dot in the center instead. Godric stood as they approached him. "Ah, I see Gedeon has decided to abandon his ugly banner for an even more distasteful one" he said. The leader smiled with broken teeth. "Gedeon's banner is no more" he told Godric in a scratchy voice. Godric hesitated for a moment. What insolent threat was this? He thought of grabbing his sword from behind him, but resolved to give this pest a moment to explain why he should not be cut down wher he stood. "What is this?" he demanded. "We come with orders for you and your men" the lesser revenant said commandingly. "You are to move your encampment north towards saviour's pass, and meet with a larger force already stationed there".

Godric grew angrier with every word. How dare some foreign host give him orders like this. "Who, if not Gedeon, dares to command me?" he shouted. The leader smiled again, and said "We answer to the black tower". Dragonblade tower? Godric had thought nothing of the rumours of the new inhabitant within that dark palace, but they seemed now to hold some truth. Still, he only laughed at this statement. The messenger looked irritated. "It is unwise to disobey those greater than you, Godric" he said. Godric stopped laughing suddenly, and he grabbed the messenger's neck. The lesser revenant's expression turned to fear. "Perhaps you still need convincing" he said, and he signaled for one of the lesser undead to come forward. It held a bag in it's hands. The bag was opened, and it's contents fell to the floor: head of Gedeon the Red. "Gods have mercy..." uttered Godric as he stepped back, astonished. This was the work of something far more powerful than the ragged band that stood before him. Gedeon was one of the most powerful wraiths west of the iron mountains. "You will answer the call of Magnor Dragonblade".

Wal set off from the monk sanctuary with little to aid him. The monks had decent amount of money stored up from dealings with people. Most was from donations made after the monks helped people. Wal took a small amount of it to help on his journey, but he wouldn't bring himself to take anymore. Wal knew he was going to need help. Information was the first thing he would search for though. Actium was two days ride by horse from the sanctuary. Wal would be fine making the trek in the same time by foot. The first night outdoors was rainy. He spent the night resting under a tree. His sleep was still comfortable as he had trained himself to endure the elements, and he enjoyed the feel and smell that rain brought about. He ate random foliage and fruit he found along the way to sustain himself.

He arrived late the second day and chose to sleep outside the outskirts of the city. That night was quiet and rather foggy. The eerie night kept the sentries on higher alert. Wal felt the night was out of order as well, and he was right. Several undead had managed to wander out of the forest and made their way through the fog. Wal spotted them shortly before a sentry raised the alarm of intruders. A few militia collected in front of the gate, prepared to stop the undead from entering, but waiting for more reinforcements before going out to meet them. Wal had nothing to wait for and began for the undead. He could sense most were rather weak, but one had a more powerful negative presence about it. He met the undead shortly before the militia had arrived to help. He had already disarmed a spear from one of the undead and effectively dis-armed it as well. The militia were slighly confused at first, but quickly engaged the rest of the undead with Wal. Two of the soldiers were cut down by the ax of a mighty undead orc with an oozing black aura. Wal quickly confronted the orc monstrosity with his spear. Wal made no initial attacks, as he drew the attention of the angry beast. It made several wild swings until finally made the move Wal was waiting for. The orc swung the ax down and planted it firmly into the ground. For the moment it stuck in the ground, Wal pierced the orcs hands just above the ax's shaft and lept on top of the shaft forcing it out of the beasts hands. He spun his spear and used the blunt end to knock the orc back a few steps. He then quickly picked up the heavy spear and laboriously swung it at the now charging orc. He cleanly struck the orc's neck and severed it's head. Following the weight of the swing of the ax he avoided being plowed by the momentum of the lifeless body. The militia were finishing the rest of undead and a few watched in amazement as Wal finished the incredible being. A captain of the men confronted Wal.

"Well thank you for the help. I'm not sure what we would have done against that monster. You seem to be on our side, but who are you and where did you learn to do that." Wal tilted his rice hat back to reveal his features. "My name is Waleskervon. Most refer to me as Wal. I am a monk from the sanctuary that is South East of here. I have come to destroy the source of these creatures. I don't have much to offer, but any information you could provide would be much appreciated." The captain had heard of the monks, but never knew this was the extent of their power. He didn't think they would ever be offensive either, but the world needed all the help it could get now to fight the new threat. "You can keep your money. Anyone fighting those things is welcome. Unfortunately I don't know much. I do know that the undead power has been growing recently. I've never been to the tower either. You would have to talk to the scouts for that. Crazy bunch those ones, going out there all the time. I don't have that sort of courage. Even though they're a part of the militia they stay pretty private. The best guess I can give in finding them is getting lucky and running into them at a pub. Are you planning on keeping that ax as well. It doesn't seem to suit you?" The massive ax was very out of place being wielded by the thin elf. Thank you for your help, and yes I will keep it. There's something off about this ax. It holds a negative aura all it's own. I want to find someone who can analyze it. Thank you for your service. I'll be off now."

On that note Wal dissapeared into the city. He wandered the city, occasionally stopping in pubs to see if he could pick up on any interesting conversations. He wandered until morning with no avail and continued deeper into the city throughout the day. The locals gave him a wide birth unsure of his intentions, walking around with a giant negative ax and all. This made his search even more difficult, but around mid afternoon something rather interesting caught his eye. As he was passing by he felt a very strong source of positive energy. He turned to see a man with a horse helping a little girl, whom Wal could have sworn was hurt a moment ago, but was now fine. Wal was unsure whether or not to bother the man, but he was on a mission and he was getting tired of finding no help. He walked up to the man and got his attention. "Excuse me sir I couldn't help but notice you helping that girl and I was wondering if you could help me as well. I'm looking to destroy this undead curse and I was wondering if you had any information that could help me?"

Pyria blinked twice as her scratches magically healed somewhat. Magic. Her eyes widened so slightly at the display, and she made no further motion to move. Until the bun was presented at her. With the swiftness of a feral cat, she snatched the bun out of the man's hands and began chomping greedily. It was so good, after having eating trash for the past weeks! The only thing she needed the money for was for food, so she was beaming at the development.

"Are you my new master, mister? Have you come to reclaim me as familiar?" The girl ventured to say, upon the offer of food and lodgings. "I um..." She hesitated, before taking a couple of steps back and dropping in a sort of servile curtsy. "I am Pyria. Nice to meet you, new master. Please take care of me." She ventured to say, finally raising her eyes to match his. A third figure approached suddenly, which prompted Pyria to yelp and hide behind Luca. "EEP!" She squeaked.

"My old master was killed by undead. That's all I know." She snapped back. Lousy idiots appearing out of nowhere with questions. "Go away, please." She added.

---

The lone silent figure sighed, as she kept shambling around the campment, her donkey and belongings safe in a stable. Same sorry sight as everytime she could open her eyes enough for her to get a view before the sun completely blinded her. Drunken, unwashed soldiers who thought they were the Emperor´s elite, both in ego and self-appraised skill. Moldy tents, like unwashed, filthy giant loincloths, where men and women ate, sleep and made more of the little loud obnoxious bastards who seemed to live only to yell, bump into people, steal things and eat up valuable food rations. Women were no better than men in that regard, those who could potentially catch an eye or two prettied themselves up in hopes of earning money with their bodies, and becoming self-perpetuating plague spreaders among the camp. She couldn't even remember how many of those had healed.

A bunch of trash, led by a drunk buffoon called Gaius. But that was all good, Tsabal liked it. Were they more fit and capable, they would have already discovered her. Were they more righteous, she could never have hoped to earn her money by making pain-numbing drugs and poisons, and the rare chance of divination among their lot. Still, this was but a stepping stone for something greater, and she was just pooling her resources by encouraging the denizens of the Empire to cater to their vices and indulgence if she could make a profit out of it.

The reward for the wraith and curse dispelling was palatable, though. In a single stroke, she could wipe the roadblock that had prevented her brethen to keep conducting raids in the surface, as well as earning a considerable sum. It could be done, she thought to herself, as she dodged a drunken offduty soldier who was perched on some tramp's ample bosom and kept zigzagging through the assorted tents. She just needed the right people. Some of the soldiers had told her rumours of an hero of the east coming to help. Could be worth checking. But what kind of hero was that, she wondered?

It was too bright and too noisy, and the brat speaking about recruiting heroes, -which someone had obviously told him to- was getting on her nerves. So, she ventured forth to find her cozy, silent spot. Beneath a tree.

Spot that was sadly taken. She clenched her fist reflexively, before gazing at the inoportune idiot who had decided to crash at her favorite spot. Huh. A female, robed, possibly the size of an elf. Could she be... nah, there were no more survivors of the raids. Curbing her hostility, she raised her gloved hands and folded her arms across her robed chest.

"You must be new in town, huh. Robed silent type who doesn't like noise."

"M-master? Reclaim?" Luca stammers out in confusion as the girl backs away a step and curtsies. None of what she said made any real sense, except for her name and the apparently heartfelt request that he care for her.

Now what've I gotten myself into... Brother Valerian always warned me I'd only land in trouble on my own, but this is not quite what I was expecting. Pyria's squeak startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back over his shoulder at her after glancing at the newcomer he had failed to notice approaching. Standing straight again, he stuffs his kerchief back into the folds of his robe.

"Pyria, no need to be rude. And please, call me Luca. I don't know how you lived before, but I am nobody's master but my own. Still, I will be glad to share my room and food with you. As for you," he said, turning more fully to face the stranger. "I am here seeking the same end. I heard the call had been put out from Campus Magnus, and am headed there from Entrium. I was going to stay the night here and look around to see if I could find more information, or an expedition preparing to leave from here soon. If nobody comes today, I'll be leaving for Campus Magnus in the morning to learn what I may."

While he talked, Luca used one arm to push the edge of his cloak out around his new charge's shoulders. Though his spell would keep the wind from her, she seemed to take comfort in his presence after the bit of magic he had performed.

Sinking back into meditation, the woman became centered focus entirely inward. Feeling along her muscles and veins, she pushed her healing to allow the tightness from her travels to ease.

Sighing, she felt her shoulders relax, allowing her some comfort against the tree. Mind drifting, she relaxed, until a sudden surge of irritation, and speeding heart caught her attention. She's never been caught this unawares, but the heart slowed, and then faded from her senses. Followed by a voice, with the barest hint of an accent she hasn't heard in decades. There's no way, no way that one of them...?

Tilting her head back, until she could see the robed figure in front of her. Earthy colors, a cowl pulled low enough to hide the skin, probing towards the woman in front of her, she could feel it then, how it took more effort to feel her. She had to be a drow. But last she heard they were all...?

Never mind that now, this is an extremely dangerous position, lounging around in front of one of them. Speaking clearly she responded "That I am. I have traveled far to come to this..." pausing the woman looked for an apt description. Failing at that she continued "place, to find fellow skilled individuals in order to deal with the problems in the East. 3 million gold denarii is a fine sum, even split amongst a few. May I ask, who's asking?"

Campus Magnus was a filthy, disgusting place, but to Liliana it was as a second home. She would never forget her homeland and the vitality of those enchanted trees, but now she only walked this dead land. She had been cast out, and could never return to live among her own kind. This was something the High Elf lived with every day, as her striking appearance often drew the attention of others. The color of her hair and eyes could not be helped, and her ears stood out even more than the average Wood or Sand Elf. It didn't help being a woman among so many fighting men for so long. Even the old and the infirm would howl catcalls and jeers at her, and this typically led to her storming off in a huff.

This was one such time, and Lili was fed up with it. If the men would not behave themselves, she would simply leave early. It didn't matter to her if she met her end at the hands of some long-dead warrior, as long as she fell in battle and managed to get away from the idiotic soldiers. Arms crossed over her chest, she stomped her way towards Imperator Gauis' quarters. She had built a rapport with him over the years, and figured she could convince him to bring the soldiers in line or at least grant her enough supplies to make it to that cursed Tower.

When she finally reached the leader's tower, however, Liliana stopped in her tracks. A man had just exited the building, and something curious about him drew her. She could not recognize him at first, but then she felt the familiar aura of the arcanist and her eyes narrowed.

Only one person powerful enough to feel like that anywhere near here. He may look different, but I doubt he has changed. Those eyes though... Suppressing a shiver, Liliana approached the cloaked figure. They had not met in many years, and she was both happy and not to see him. While his magic would be invaluable and she owed him much, Lili had never truly trusted Gripus.

"It's been a long time, mage. What brings you back to the Iron Coast?" she asked rhetorically, moving her hands to her hips. Her left hand rested on the hilt of her curved sword, while her right thumb simply hooked into the wide leather belt that held her armor in place. The wind blew her hair awry, but the cold seemed not to touch her. The whole world seemed cold when one was used to the Sun's warmth and it had abandoned them.

Gripus smiled beneath his cowl, motioning his head towards an Elven beauty he barely remembered; yet there it was, clear as day, for in his mind she stood to the background of death and destruction. Her name did not escape him, indeed, he had studied the Order's histories relentlessly as part of a vain quest to gain their support for his expedition to Iron Coast. He knew of her tale, of what happened after the Fall of Magnor Dragonblade. Those fools, with all their Holiness, were not above petty rivalries and divisive politics; their hosts of Paladins and Priests locked in pointless struggles with whatever peoples had the misfortune of earning the title of "Heathens". They had the power to make a real difference in the world, yet they squandered it, preferring to throw away their best champions whilst indulging themselves in the blood of thousands.

"It has been too long, Liliana," he said, the yellow lights of his eyes pulsing. He would not insult nor belittle her, with a title he believed she had neither deserved nor earned. The Order had lost themselves one of their best, that day. "I'm here for the same reason as you," his brow furrowed and his mouth twisted slightly, "he has returned. Magnor Dragonblade has arisen from a multitude of errors. I am here to correct the mistake of an Age. To finish what should have been finished the first time around."

He shivered then; his senses tingling. Campus Magnus had become rich with magical energy, saturated even - there were people of power in the camp, and their presence was agitating him. Oddly enough though, Liliana's aura seemed pale and almost unreadable. He did not remember her for such fragility. It seemed the Order had stripped her of more than just a rank.

"They should never have cast you out," he said, remorse striking his features. "The Order have become as foolish as the Imperial Magi, as the Emperor himself. The world is a worse place, for such idiocy." Gripus shook his head, and cleared his expression for a sterner alternative. "I'm going to the tower, Liliana. By all the Gods, by the Empire and Beyond, I will fix this mess. I should have died alongside my fallen brothers, when we attacked the Necromancer with an army of hundreds... such a waste, and for what? So many mistakes were made that day, and now I aim to redeem myself of my sins for taking part in such folly." Then he waved a hand, as if dismissing an invisible acquaintance. "Forgive me, I may look young, but I am very much a rambling old fool for my part. You have come for similar reasons, have you not? A tale of guilt and redemption?"

Wal listened intently as the man spoke. It was nice to know they both sought the same goal. I wonder if we'll work together in the future. As the man spoke of the call from Campus Magnus, Wal grew very interested. This new information was very good, and though it was the wrong way some detours may be needed. As much as Wal would have liked some company, the mans strategy was sound. It also appeared the mans good will was being spent on this child as well. I guess it's good he at least has that much goodwill. And I don't need a babysitter. Why am I being clingy? I guess I haven't actually been clingy yet I just had that desire. Wal took a deep breath and compossed himself, though slightly out of place in the middle of this conversation.

"Thank you sir. You have been very helpful." He squatted lowering himself to be eye level with the whelp. He kept his hat tilted back trying not to frighten the girl again. "I'm sorry for scaring you." And with that he stood back up and left again. The slow rythmic clang of his ax continued as he set off down the street. He thought to go search again, but was quickly interupted with a desire for food. The smell of a nearby stall enticed him. Now is a fine time to eat. He moved over to the stall and pulled out a couple of coins and said, "I'll take two pies." The woman took his money and prepared four for him. "You should feel lucky. Normally I'd just keep it, but some guy just payed extra and I feel good, so enjoy yourself." Wal felt speechless for a moment, but kept enough sense to stay mannered. "Thank you maam." and with that he set off for the port.

When Gripus shivered under his cloak, Liliana realized that the mage would easily sense her greatly diminished power since they had last seen one another. Cheeks flushing, she breaks eye contact with those discomforting yellow orbs and looks away. She often felt as though naked to the dangers of the world without Sol's power to command, and was acutely aware of that feeling at the moment. When he mentioned her former Order though, it all vanished as she bristled with contempt and turned back to him. Biting the inside of her cheek, she barely manages to hold to decorum and allow him to finish speaking.

"I will not go back to those pompous, self-righteous bastards! They abandoned Aren, myself, and the whole of the Iron Coast to this fate! So many lives wasted, for nothing!" Gritting her teeth, Liliana cuts off her own tirade and punctuates it by punching the solid stone of the tower with her right hand. But for her thick leather gloves, she would have bloodied her knuckles. Covering her face with that same hand a moment later, she continues in a much softer tone. "Forgive me, Gripus. Though decades have dulled the pain, some of my wounds have yet to heal. You are not the subject of my ire, and do not deserve to be party to it."

After a long moment of regaining her composure, Liliana lowers her hand back to her belt. Ever since leaving her homeland, she had found herself becoming more and more emotionally driven. After so long she considered herself to be almost human in that regard, though her outbursts still brought her personal shame.

"I am here to redeem myself, yes, but no longer in the eyes of the Order. I seek only Sol's approval now. Aren did not deserve to have his lot cast with mine, and I will see our work done. I cannot go on like this any longer. Either I or this curse must come to an end before I will be able to find peace again." As she went on, Liliana's voice grew stronger and some of the fire burning in her heart returned to be shown in her eyes. She was a proud woman after all, and it was wonderful to have purpose again even if the challenge may prove too much for her in the end. "Shall we leave together then, as we once returned from that hellscape? I am not what I was then, but my arm is still strong and my blade still hungers to release the souls of the dead."

It was late in the day when Godric and his force reached the gates of Ghost's Bastion. Luckily, the sun had been veiled by thick clouds for most of the day. Sunshine was not, understandably, the most favourable of conditions for the undead. As the host approached the broken doors, a loud voice called to them. "Halt!" Cried a lesser revenant who stood atop the ramparts. A group of lesser undead stood in Godric's path, their thoughtless eyes staring ahead at him. Godric stared up at the revenant for a moment and said "Either remove this rabble from my path, or watch me do it on my own". The man on the ramparts scowled back at him. "State your business, stranger" he said. "I am Godric Boneshatter, here on orders from the black tower, if you must know" Godric answered. The lesser revenant hesitated, but he called down to the undead beneath him. "Move out of the way scum! Make it fast!". The lesser undead shambled slowly to the side and the host of Godric moved through the gate.

Godric left his horse in the company of an undead servant in the stables, and then went back out into the streets of the broken city. Godric remembered the battle that had left this place in ashes. Untold numbers of undead warriors marched through the gate, slaughtering man, woman, and child. Good. All would find service in the dark army. Now the undead swarmed it in even greater numbers, marching down the winding roads while revenants of all different stature barked orders at them. Occasionally, a lesser wraith would wander by to observe the chaos, then move on to whatever other obscure goal they had in mind.

Suddenly, a ghostly voice spoke Godric's name. He wheeled around to find a lesser wraith, cloaked from head to toe in black. "What do you want?" Godric asked harshly. The wraith answered in an emotionless voice, "I am to escort you to the great hall, a meeting has been called amongst the great leaders". Great leaders? It had been ten years since Godric had been called by any such title. Then again, it had been ten years since it was thought possible to kill Gedeon the Red. And now Godric was being called to sit amongst the generals of Dragonblade tower once again? It seemed as though the world had been flipped on it's head in a matter of a few days.

As Liliana's emotions came to the fore, culminating in her punching the hard stone of the tower's foundations, Gripus felt a pang of sorrow for the High Elf. Such outbursts were rare in her kind, and only surfaced when an inner most burden had become too heavy to bear. She was a tortured soul in many ways; her future cut from under her, and cast to uncertainty in the most horrid of circumstances, whilst the ghosts of her past screamed injustice. She was certainly not the unsinkable titan she had been fifty years ago.

Lilana's voice took on a fire that reminded Gripus of himself in his younger days, when the world was very much a matter of good and evil to his impassioned eyes. She had come to Iron Coast to redeem her honour, to renew her purpose, to fulfill her destiny - like many adventurers that had taken on the Imperator's contract, no doubt. He wondered though, if she really knew what awaited her to the West.

"You are as strong as you ever were," Gripus decided to lie, out of pity if nothing else. "Your divine powers may be diminished, but few can protest the significance of a strong sword hand and a stronger heart in these dark times we find ourselves in. I would be honoured if you were to stand at my side, as we awake Iron Coast from its nightmare." He paused, to consider things. Gripus was a skilled mage, and with Morven's staff at his disposal, he felt confident he could handle himself against some of Iron Coast's horrors. However, he was but one man, and the dead were many - and then there was the matter of Magnor Dragonblade. If he had returned, and had even a fraction of his former power, then Gripus would not stand in battle against him long. "We need more of us, I fear. Our song will be a short one, if we are forced to face down this evil with just the two of us. There are powerful individuals in the camp, I can sense them, but it is now a matter of tracking them down, and appraising their motives before taking them on. Mayhap you know Campus Magnus better than I do; where should we begin our search for suitable candidates?"

"But,but,but you are a magic user. Who has taken me under your w.." Pyria began to say, just as the other man lowered his visage to be in front of her. Frowning a little in response, she pouted slightly. "Okay..." She clenched Luca's clothes while she watched the man get up and leave them be.

"Funny elf." Pyria muttered upon the display of manners and behaviour from the stranger. Her eyes looked to Luca. "So, you don't want to be Pyria's master?" The kid eyed at Luca, golden eyes sparkling upon the mentioning of food and lodgings." And yet you provide food and lodging..."
Her face scrunched up, as if thinking hard on something, before finally smiling.

"I get it! You want to be Pyria's servant! MY OWN SERVANT! And thus I'm free!" She added, looking at the manacle. A small smirk came across her face, as raw magic power pooled in her hand, the manacle reacting to her and clasping open gently. The waif grabbed it, and dusted it a bit off, hefting it. "Take it. As a token of Pyria. It's a very important token for me!"

She giggled. "And now, I shall devote myself to my destiny and tear that undead army asunder! For I am a flame dragon!" She raised her voice, before doing a rather weak impression of a roar. "RAWR!"

Not two steps after she started her mighty charge, her face was already biting the dust a second time. A loose cobblestone, getting tangled in her legs. Twice foiled by inanimate objects. There was only a logical course of action afterwards.

Throw a tantrum. And she did.

---

Tsabal shook her head upon hearing the grandiloquent and solemn speech of the other robed woman. "Tch." If she were to pull her hood out, she would be rolling her eyes. "So, yet another of those solemn fools that jump at vague threats... for gold or for self-appointed duty. And to answer your question, I'm sometimes known as 'Bal the Crone, or the Dark Whisperer... and that is my favorite shade spot." She paused, pondering a few things.

"Although... that was damn clever of you. Not many find the spot in the first try, they often try their luck in smelly, rowdy tents." Tsabal spun her words and arts. "I bet you probably don't want to deal with the other folk any more than necessary...so let me give you a token of... peace. Yes, peace." She said, producing a small flask of liquour.

"Want a sip?" She added, her hand inviting her to take a drink after she herself took one.

Now let's put to test whether you're like me or not. That cloak is highly suspicious. And so is my drink. A proper drow would never take such offer.

Watching the woman shake shake her head, a small coil of dread twisted in her stomach. A misstep, this is a fine dance this woman is leading her in.

"Yes, it is a fine spot. Shades me from the Sun. Offered me peace from the smells and sights of the camp. It can be so hard to...hide from the nature of men. The fools applaud their short sightedness, while we must suffer their mistakes." Applying extra stress on the word we, trying to imply they were the same, there is no telling what could result from this. But if she survives this meeting, she'll be struck dumb in surprise.

A dark bitter chuckle rolled in the woman's chest, but didn't escape. What peace would a drow be offering in the first meeting of a stranger but that of the blade? "Forgive me, Dark Whisperer, but I cannot drink from a stranger's flask. You never know what you might find. However allow me to introduce myself, I am tge Lady of Shame, Ellasapet, it was a...kindness to make your acquaintance."

Bowing her head in a quick approximation of manners, El focused her magic on the figure in front of her. She was going to gamble now. Maybe this is a case of "the reward is greater than the risk." Motioning to the other side, El allowed the tips of her fingers to fall out of the robes folds, revealing her dark, distinctive coloring. Then feigned relaxation back into the tree. El hoped more than anything this 'crone' would become bored with this game and move on. "You are welcome to join me."

This foolish offer El just made. She spent to long amomgst the elves of this land. Their manners have become so ingrained inside of her. She just hopes this was no mistake.

Luca waved at the retreating elven form, curious as to whether they would meet again in the future. For now though, his hands seemed to be rather full. Pyria spoke up again, causing the priest to turn back to her with a confused look. She was making less and less sense as she continued on, and he ventured that she must have a rather active imagination.

"But... I serve only the Raven Queen..." he said, dumbfounded, as he stared at the manacle he now held. While he was glad that the iron ring would no longer burden the girl, he wondered at the significance of the situation. If he was to take her seriously at all, he was in a heap of trouble. Dragons didn't exactly have a reputation for being cute and cuddly. The powerful magic he had sensed when the manacle had opened spoke to some true nature he could not discern, but he had a hard time believing that this little girl was actually a dragon.

"Pyria, what are you--?" he says as she starts to charge away, only to fall almost immediately. The frying pan she had been struck with earlier was on the floor of the square and the poor girl had tripped over it in her haste. Striding to her side again with Snow following in his wake he looks down at the frustrated Pyria with a look of concern, touched mildly by amusement. If she did happen to be a dragon, it appeared she still had much growing to do. With a heavy sigh, Luca tucks the manacle into his robes so he can palm his forehead without releasing his staff and reins. After a moment of listening to her tantrum, he leans his staff against Snow's shoulder and kneels next to the girl.

"Up we go!" he said, grabbing Pyria by the hips and lifting her into the air. Turning, he plunks her down on Snow's saddle. The horse snorts and tries to shy away, but relents when Luca gives her a mild glare. "There will be plenty of time to vent your wrath on the Undead tomorrow. I have no supplies and limited coin, and I am weary from traveling. We wouldn't even make it through the mountain pass on our own."

While he tries to placate Pyria, Luca takes up his reins and staff again to lead his horse toward the inn. The sun was still high, but he wanted to make sure to have a room to return to when he was done shopping. Besides, if the storm came early it would be good to have somewhere for them to take shelter.

---

Gripus' lie, though his attempt to preserve what remained of her honor was flattering, caused Liliana to roll her eyes. While he could clearly see how much she had lost, it was impossible for him to know how hollow and empty she felt without it. A large part of what made her who she was had been stripped from her by force, torn asunder by the combined will of those who decided she no longer deserved Sol's light.

"Perhaps you should remain at my back rather than my side where you are less likely to get cut down, old man," she said in jest, a smile finally touching her stern features. As much as his magic made her skin crawl, Gripus was by and large a good man who had done much to keep her alive. After the fateful battle where he had rescued her, darkness had rode in her heart for some time. His determination then had lent her strength, and had shown her that a purposeless death would do nothing to atone for her shortcomings. Liliana would gladly fight by his side and lend her sword to his efforts.

"I suppose more would be better, though in the end it'll mean we need more supplies." She said nothing about it, but it was implied that the bounty would have to be split as well. Her only goal was to lift the curse, and the monetary reward meant nothing to her. "None of the regular soldiers in this camp are suitable, not that I would willingly travel with those brutes. But if you can sense them, it must mean somebody who might be able to help us is near."

Liliana's own ability to sense the aura all magickers held around them had been stunted, and she could only feel Gripus' power due to their proximity. As though to answer his question though, a young boy nearby was shouting something about gathering men to assault the tower. As he ran past, she grabbed him by the shoulder and nearly took him from his feet with the suddenness of the grip. When the boy turned to the pair at the base of Gaius' tower, awe and fear mixed in his features. When Lili produced a gold coin from a pouch at her hip, the boy's eyes locked on it and widened.

"Seems we've found ourselves some luck. Can you take us to who told you to carry that message?" The boy nodded vigorously, stretching out a hand. Liliana dropped the coin in it, then ruffled his dirty hair. "Let us hope we find some true heroes," she said in an aside to Gripus as the boy started back the way he had come. She made to follow, offering the mage another smile over her shoulder as she turned.