(Insignificant, Streets of Artis Port, Praelium.)

The man had been hiding for quite some time, watching the mage, he hadn't expected it to be as easy as sitting and waiting. He stroked his short beard, longcoat billowing in the wind. He had been with the mage since he first attacked Praelium, he was the perfect subject, skilled and powerful, yet youthful and arrogant, he would have been easy to kill if it had been necessary. Thankfully, the Praelians had seen fit to make it easy on him, now all he had to do was retrieve the body and begin the procedure. The others in Omem would be fascinated, and in awe, he could see them now.

But first, he had to get rid of the Praelian. He removed himself from his cover, hands behind his back and with chin raised. Holding his hand out as if he had a glass of wine within, he began to channel a spell, his hand covered in a misty white aura. He chuckled to get the mage's attention, both as a method of intimidation and a bit out of jubilant glee, he had been waiting, waiting for his chance, and now he had it, his chance at living forever in the minds of Erelith's people.

His laugh turned into a cackle, but he never dismissed his spell, it was too important to just let it go.

"Hello, Dominus," he spoke, his voice like stone sliding across a floor. "You've impressed me, but it is not you who I am here for." He looked at the pile of rubble where the young man's corpse lay, presumably burned beyond recognition, not that aesthetics were necessary, all he needed was a body.

"Now, I'll spare you the pleasantries and simply skip to the demands," his voice suddenly shifted, becoming even deeper and less contained. "The body, the mage's body, the one you just killed for me. I will be taking it now, and if that's a problem, then I assure you that we can work something..." a soft sound came from behind him as one of his fingers twitched.

He smiled and held out his hand, a soft frosty mist fell from it and coalesced on the ground as his hand ever so slightly twisted and turned, with noise again coming from behind him. He snapped his fingers, and a deep fog descended over the town. Then a silhouette... two... three... four... a rattling noise echoing through the air, the clanging of metal and the sound of a woman's voice, singing softly as if to a child.

"Though, I promise no compromises."

He grunted, utilizing such a powerful magic was difficult, but it was all necessary.

[i]Give it to me.[/i]

A whisper echoed through the air.

[i]Give it to me.[/i]

It repeated, this time sung by a woman's voice. A groan rended the air, and was answered by a chorus of similar groans.

"Give it, mage."