Ramius Kastagir, Iron Forest, some miles South-West of Campus Magnus.

There was both danger and chance for glory in being so close to an enemy encampment. Despite the inherent danger of Campus Magnus' close proximity The White Raven was not concerned. There were fresh corpses laying on the feet of the revenant and his forces - corpses of a small parol which had not been expecting an attack so close to their own lines no doubt. The skeletal fingers of Ramius' right hand tightened around the pole atop of which hung a tattered banner depicting a white raven. He stood silently, maybe plotting, maybe reminiscing as he stared towards Campus Magnus.

"Sir... Kastagir..." One of the lesser revenants - from a group of dozen - spoke with a raspy, hushed tone. "Perhaps we should ...retreat?" The single burning eye of the White Raven turned towards the lesser being. "A sound plan for now. Traitors, form up!" The twelve lesser revenants formed up around their leader, as did the shambling lesser undead who had heard the revenant's dread call.

Without another word the group - numbering perhaps a hundred at most - began heading deeper to the forest.