[center][color=F0E68C][h2][sub][i]Sister Ezheia[/i][/sub][/h2][/color][/center]
[center][color=F0E68C][i]Unknown Location - 500/500 HP - 6/6 Stamina[/i][/color][hr][/center]

	Ezheia's eyelids slid ajar, welcoming her not to the faces of her troupe in the wagon, but to a dead, slate sky. Her ears rang and vision blurred for several moments, before she forced her senses to normalize. Her nostrils burned with the scent of embers, followed by the reek of decay that lingered after a battle. Her fingers eased themselves around her bow, which had slid from its sheathe and now lay parallel to her. The grass beneath her resembled white ash more than it did vegetation. The Decanus strained to lift herself from the ground; a struggle made harder than it should have been, given that she did not feel completely... [i]inside[/i] of her own body. 

	The other members of the troupe were easing themselves from the dirt. She recognized their faces, but struggled to piece each to a name. The only one she managed to recall in that hazy moment was Fiona, another sister of the Order. Ezheia drew herself to full height, approaching her subordinate to discern her condition. The girl was unhurt, but no less dumbfounded by whatever instance had led them here. As Fiona pushed herself to her feet, Ezheia caught a glimpse of the trio in red.  

	They stood facing the party, faced hid in the folds of their hoods. While Ezheia could clearly see them, they appeared... unwhole; as if they were both present and somewhere else entirely. It was a strange notion to wrap one's head around, and before Ezheia could attempt to draw an explanation, two of them were gone. The third raised its - her? hand, and a handful of figures materialized from the wisps of shadow that rolled lazily through Ezheia's vision. 

	The summoned were grotesque amalgamations of men and excess flesh. They bore no faces where they should have had them. They were armed with rudimentary weapons, but did not brandish them. Their movements were sluggish, unsure. The last crimson wraith disappeared from view, and Ezheia's ears caught the words, "...survive this ordeal, a great reward awaits you." Now, the featureless constructs gurgled and moaned to each other. Though difficult to look at, they were peculiarly nonthreatening. 

	[i]Almost as if they weren't intended to...[/i]

	Several members of the party were already charging with blades in hand, nothing on their minds but the annihilation of the ghouls before them. Ezheia raised a hand, shouting "No!" in warning, but blades had already struck flesh. The Decanus cursed, striking her thigh with a fist. She prayed her hunch was wrong, as she notched an arrow and let it fly into the bare face of the nearest brute.