For a long moment there was silence, punctuated only by the soft whisper of wind. It seemed to rise up from the chasm, carrying with it a soft vaguely volcanic grit the scraped the exposed skin. After a few moments the grit began to swirl, growing darker and more dense by the moment. With a suddenness which belied the slow build up the dust seemed to congeal into a tall menacing figure. By slow degrees, as though a painter were adding details to a figure, the outlines of armor began to appear, rough and then with increasing definition until a black armored knight stood on the narrow bridge which separated the tower from the mainland. Though the figure was clearly visible, the face of the strange knight was concealed in deep shadows, save for the faint greenish blue glow that came from deep within its helmet.

"Sir Knight..." the figure spoke in a sepulchral voice, carrying with it a faint charnel house reek, like distant graves or a day old battlefield.

"The prisoner in this tower has been remainded here by the word of the Assembly of Wizards. She is to be held here until the suns fade," the eldritch knight explained, drawing a blade from his scabbard. Rather than steel the blade was shimmering darkness.

"Turn back, Sir Knight," the dark warrior declared, settling into a relaxed if archaic fighting stance.

"Turn back, lest  ye die," the knight warned.