[center][color=A9E2F3][h1]𝕻𝖆𝖗’𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝕰𝖙𝖍’𝕰𝖗𝖆𝖝[/h1]
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When Lancelot appeared and everyone settled to listen to the would-be future Dark Lord of this land, Par’Sath did the same as his suit of armor settled quietly and still next to one of the hall’s stained glass windows , the eerie glow of the moonlit night casting a strange shadow on the ground beneath his feet. The Apostle would listen to the dark being with keen attention, having been drawn to this place by his power certainly gave the Reaper more reason to listen to the speaker, announcing boldly his plan to conquer his enemies and establish himself as the next ruler.

But those weren’t news to the metal-clad spirit. He had seen the destruction of Camelot with his own figurative sight. It was to make a statement. A claim and a promise that further acts will be brought down on those who do not bow down to his might. And the Apostle had no difficulty imagining that Lancelot would be true to his words. No, the Apostle was here for hearing the darkness-shrouded man’s plans about his upcoming rise to power; the details of why he needed such a diversified army of misfits.

Alas, not much had been explained. Only the promise of an operation that would be held in two days. It was quite a lot of time, to make warlords and impatient beings lusting for blood wait. Still, the power that Lancelot exuded was surely enough to convince that elite of his to wait for the day. As for the Reaper, he had an eternity ahead of him. Such trivial thing as waiting did not faze him. 

Gazing upon the scene as the Dark Lord left behind a cloud of smoke in his sudden departure, Eth’Erax noticed a few of his would-be colleagues already leaving for their accommodations. A few new additions recently joined, slightly before Lancelot had finished his speak.

A mortal soul, harnessing a power that was beyond grasp of most mortals.
A spirit, just like the Apostle himself, however attuned to the realm of Water.

Acknowledging the newest arrivals, the Deathless One glanced about the room, waiting for whatever petty squabbles between the mortals to be done with, before his gaze returned to the great door that led to the entrance.

[color=A9E2F3]“Should you require assistance, speak ‘Apostle’, so that this Guide be of use.”[/color] The deep whispers echoed throughout dining hall as if hundreds of spirits spoke in unison.

Stepping with silent ghostly steps to the exit, Par’Sath left the hall to return to the courtyard. In the middle of the desolated garden, the Reaper stopped, his armor becoming stiff and still. The spirit of the Damned Guide left his metallic shell, becoming one with the Spirit Realm once more. 

It would have seemed this group of Knights brought with them their sins, unfelt burdens of their past deeds, as the vengeful spirits of the dead screamed retribution for what had been done to them. Peace that they never acquired, tormented by pain for their unjust deaths. The amount of souls gathered unto this unholy keep, previously untainted by the presence of erring ghosts, was once more tipping the scales of Death. 

Truly, what a scary thing magic was, to rip the souls off mortal coils and deny them access to the Great Beyond. It would seem like this Fated Guide would have much to do this night…