The transition of the terrain they marched on did not go unnoticed by Traveller. The sand became bone, aged half a millennium, split into many slivers. The air seemed almost toxic. The sounds of the wind as it tore through the land brought even more dread to the land. But alas, the monolith, standing above the land around it, came into view. His eyes tracked a [i]raveina obscura[/i] as it parted from its murder, only to watch them, its entire existence hating the travelers. This land, Rzail, was a curse to Ecetopia. A cancer. A mark that unbalanced the entire world. 

They were there to stop it. The Kindred. Voph. Rosa. Even the caravan would contribute. So many different individuals had come to halt the evil arising in Rzail. Then Traveller's eyes locked onto a tent near the monolith. They weren't the first to reach monolith of Rzail after so long and the man wasn't entirely sure they would be the last. The magic here sickened him more than the air ever could. It wasn't the strength of the magic that sickened him exactly. It was how corrupted, how evil, how unbalanced the magic was. Traveller closed his eyes a moment, taking a steading breath.

Once his eyes opened he noticed another detail which left him uneasy; there was a large arm protruding from the sand of bone. In its arm rested a stone tablet which probably held the the famous words seen in every old book about the Rzail conflict. Before Traveller could recall the stanza from his memory, a cry broke through the dreadful sound of the wind. The bird's harrowing gesture to the cairn could not, would not be missed. "Come then, Karnorouri, you have disturbed the balance of life and will now pay." Traveller thought, his head turning to survey his companions who would help him defeat the Lich. "And the harbingers have arrived."