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A darkening sky...

A thick mist descends on the darkened streets of Trollsbane...

Shrieking can be heard in the distance, chickens flap within their coops..

Dark shadows spring silently from the walls, moving in the moonlight..

Trees rustle loudly in the growing wind... a young lady.. no more than 20

fights against it, her clothes billowing violently.. she looks up and gasps..

The elf Arcadulus appears at the cross, he face more grey and ashen then ever. The number '8' lays carved onto his forehead.

A flash of black appears over the roof of trollsbane and lands at the cross.

"Greetings Arcadulus" rasps a voice under the shadows of a hood.

The dead elf stares through the cloaked figure.

"Rasmantil" Arcadulus says suddenly.

A distinct look of fear flashes across the elf' dead eyes.

"May Moshran Guide you" the rasping voice cries.

The cloaked figure strikes the elf....

A small group of hooded firgures make their way through the northern forest, moonlight reflects distorted shadows onto the leafy floor below, in the shadows awaits a figure...

"Master?.." One of the figures asks fearfully in a gruff voice.

"Welcome servants" Replies a rasping voice from the shadows "I see Moshran has lead you well"

"Master..we... we had a problem. Draxin.. he has passed into the realm of the dead..." croaked another voice nervously, noticiably trembling under his cloak.

"What!" Screeched the rasping voice in the shadows.

The crowd of hooded figures step back, fear in their eyes.

"A guard.. and the grey rose.. he attacked them.. they..they killed him"

A long silence follows.. crickets chirp in the distance...the breath of the cloaked figures lies heavy in the air.

"Do unto others as others have done unto you..." croaked the rasping voice in the shadows "Finish them, finish them all.."

A silverhaired man lays crouch in the darkness, wrapped tight in a dark blue

cloak. He watches the group of cloaked figures as he had done for the past

few days. He watch them speak of the terrible crimes that had commited, he

had watched them swear their allegiance to Moshran and drink to his name..

he had seen their faces freeze with fear as a rasping voice beckoned them in the darkness.

He looks on as they speak...

The small group of hooded figures gather in a small clearing of the northern forest, the moonlight casting longs shdows into the dense surrounding forest.

"Lord?" asks one of the taller figures, a slight quiver in his voice.

A harsh wind creep up around the trees, the sound of rustling leaves engulfs the air, the shadows of the forest appear to grow nearer and darker..

"Feltfoot" a rasping voice says from the shadows.

"Urkun has been taken by the rose sir." said the masked figure.

A sharp intake of breath sound from the shadows.. startled birds fly from their nests into the sky.

"Rasmantil..we can.. we can get him back.."

"Do not use my name here!" cries the voice

The figure cowers..staggering back.

"See to it that they are dealt with.. infiltrate the rose and bring him back. He will be dealt with"

Screams echo from the distance into the night sky.

In a forest clearing lays an orc writhing in agony, Urkun.

"Please...agh...please" he cries, eyes watering and closed tight. His body hunched tightly into a ball.

"You let him go!" rasps a voice from the shadows "You let him go!"

The orc continues to scream "I could...couldn't find you master! arrrgghh!"

The orc stops, he falls onto his side, breathing heavily, tears stream down his cheeks.

"For this you will be punished Urkun" rasps the voice "For this i have a special task for you."

The orc looks up, his legs tremble he says...

"What is it? Urkun do anything"

"You will distract them all..." cries the voice, in a slightly higher voice.

"Distract them?.." Queried the orc "Not..noo master, urkun will be killed surely!"

An angry silence washes over the clearing. The orc begins to twitch slightly, then more rapidly. He leviates back and slams into a tree, his arms magically entwined around it, as if with invisible hands.

"Noooo...arghh! i do it!! i do it!!" Cries the orc, slumping to the ground..

A man is dragged by an orc wearing a mask shaped like a skull into the forest. The orc drops him harshly onto the ground and kicks the man, small patches of daylight flood through the forest.. highlighting the macabre mask of the orc.

"I leave you here for master oomie!" cackles the orc. "You pay for humiliating Urkun!"

The orc runs off, leaving the man alone in the forest. Only the sound of distant birds in the distance to accompany him.

A silence descends on the clearing, the birds cease to sing, the leaves cease to blow in the wind. The shadows grow longer..

"Greetings Alexander" Rasps a voice from the shadows

"Who calls me?" Alexander asks, looking around, checking the shadows..

"I have wanted to meet you for some time" The voice rasps

"Who are you"

"I have many names" rasps the voice in the shadow.

"Rasmantil..The Executioner!" Gasps the man..

"Indeed Alex, the keeper of souls.. the rising shadow" Rasped the voice.

The man laughs "The Master himself.."

"A very brave man Alexander, to laugh in the face of death" rasps the voice. "Similar to those that betrayed him, after he saved the lives of all."

"what do you wantwith her? Rhiannon!" says the man, anger in his voice.

"What do i want with her..? A question which has little relevance to you.... I brought you here for quite different reason." Rasps the voice "You killed a servant of mine.. Draxin.."

"The dwarf...a weak follower" says the man, a look of disgust in his eyes

"No weaker than yourself Alexander" Rasps the voice.. "Though, you are well informed for such Vermin."

"I like to know my opponent" says alex..

"You have no opponent Alexander. You are no match for any of my servants." rasps the voice "And soon, you will be of little match to anyone.. Once i make a grave man of you.."

Rasmantil Laughs, the shadows seem to grow longer....

!so what do you want from me?" says Alex "... my life?"

"That.. i will take from you at another time." says the voice.

A voice cries out into the distance "Alex!..where are you?"

"More filth..how wonderful" rasps the voice.

Suddenly a man appears from behind a tree, he throws a rock or iron ore in the driection of the voice. It disintergrates in mid-air.

"Stand back! he is dangerous.." Alex cries at the man.

The man's face pales as the ore disintergrates.. he stumbles back..


"Cease to disrespect me again filth!" rasps the voice.

At that moment Thariel Feuersturm appears from the trees, Linella follows closely behind. He draws his two swords...

"Let him free!" He shouts, anger in his voice.

"Ah.. a creature even more treachourous then yourself..An elf." The voice raps, digusted.

"What is it you plan?" asks Alex.

"My plan?" cries the voice "Do you take me for a fool!"

"Be calmed" says Thariel.

"Silence Elf! or i shall bind your lips!" says the voice.. slightly higher and angrier then before.

The forest seems to rise with his anger, the branches of trees twist and distort from shape...

"Come here Alexander" Rasps the voice.

The man stands, he edges closer to the shadows, a look of fear on his face. Rasmantil remains silent, his presence of darkness seems to grow denser.. a foul wind picks up on the air, it grows faster.. ceasing alexander in it's grip, he lifts of the ground and flies backwards into a tree, he limbs bend around the distorted trunk.. he screams in pain.

"Alex" Thariel cries, trying to rush to his aid, but blocked by the wind.

"LET US HOPE FOR YOUR SAKE, OUR PATHS NEVER CROSS AGAIN!" The voice cries....

An unseen figure lights the grey rose bridge, it burns brightly in the distance.

A figure lurks silently in the shadows of the nothern forest.. brooding.

The girl had escaped.. saved by an elfess.. filth... Traitor.

A crowd gathers.. smaller in number now.. but just as terrifying..

The moonlight highlights the macabre skull masks that they don their faces..

"The time draws nearer" rasps a voice "If we do not have her we shall reek vengeance on the town, the Rose.. Varshikar, Vanima and Greenbriar.. they will burn, their people murdered in the name of the lord."

A group nod silently.

"Out of my sight" rasps the voice sharply.

Elijah Merryweather.

An old halfling, skips merrily into the northern forest.. his bag holds a collection of mushrooms and plants.

Cracks of sunlight shine through the bare winter trees, dried leaves crack beneath his hairy feet. He chuckles to himself, his Agatha would be pleased. He had lived happily, he had met a wife and had two children, grown now and sucessful cooks...

He wanders on through the forest, ceasing to notice the dark shadows cast around him...

The halfling stops and wonders about the eerie screams. Suddenly he senses a presence behind him, he turns around quick enough to receive a severe blow straight into his face, causing him to fall over backwards. A hooded figure bends over him and whispers coldly:

"You miserable excuse for life, prepare to meet my god."

With a look of awe on his face the halfling sees the figure lifting a sword, unable to move or scream, his lips forming words never to be heard as the sword slashes down merciless, separating his head from the rest of his body. A slight wind begins to blow and a voice somewhere in the trees rasps:

"Well done, as usual..."

The figure grins from below his hood and answers:

"Thank you, master."

Lifting the head from the ground and looking at the scared expression on it he asks:

"Now, what should I do with this, master?"

Two hooded figures gather in a clearing in the northern forest. The sit and wait, no a sound between them. The shadows grow longer in the darkening sky.

"Good" rasps a voice from the shadows.

The two figures bow slightly, one is noticeable hunched to one side, the other tall, a noblility to his stance.


"Urkun has outstayed his welcome do unto him as you wish." Rasps the voice once more, a hint of malice in his tone. "Go..."

The figures disappear into the shadows, to carry out their task....

Thalodos lay injured in vanima, his hand burnt, his face bruised.

He contemplates in the darkness, thoughts swirl around his troubled mind.

The Executioner.. and elf killer.. how dare he. Rasmantil.. such evil...screams in the darkness, blood.. death. The book... burnt.. a disgrace.. no respect for the elves.. Liles.. he would pay..

He sighs, his mind racing.

Stalking slowly through the woods, his blood boiled in his veins his eyes and ears trained on every leaf fall or insect. His mind raced in time to his sense's "not far now, calm.." The wounds from the days battle's burnt and each step sent lancing heat through his body.
Come alone west of here...
He drew slowly closer, wounds mattered not this was more than a battle, more than pride or honor. Twelve innocent lives to avenge and his daughters to spare, words echoed in his mind if he gets the 13th non shall be safe.
Each step he drew closer he felt the struggle against fear increase the knot about his chest that sought to choke his courage.
Tanora your path is mercy and wisdom anchors my feet that I walk always with in your grace. I shall know no fear for i bathe eternal in endless ocean and sacred mystery. Mercy my mentor your glory my courage.
Rhiannon, my sunshine your light guide me home....
He drew back his thoughts to the present and mastering them turned his attention to the woods about him, seeming to grow darker and more forbidding as he picked his way from tree to tree his fingers strayed over the hilts of the swords at his belt. One glowing faintly and one a surreal black that seemed to drink the light, weapons wrestled from evil now remade for one purpose to end Rashmantil.
Steadying his breath he continued into what ever nightmare lay ahead.

A lone figure walks into the northern forest, leaves crunch silently beneath his leather boots. The moon shines brightly in the sky, creating long shadows amongst the trees. it was a cold night, his breath a mist in the air.

He moved further into the forest, his aged heart racing. He had a strange foreboding in his heart.. he knew this would be his last day on Gobaith. But he would go through with it. His final stand in the face of evil, evil which he had succumbed to. It was time to destroy his old master.. Rasmantil.

The trees seemed to twist and distort around him, the shadows grew longer on the damp ground, his misted breath highlighted in the foreboding moonlight.

"Alfred.." rasps a voice from the shadows

"Rasmantil.." the man replies, a nervous tone to his voice.

"I know why it is you seek me Alfred... you are easy to read." the voice rasps.

The aged man, stands still..the hairs stiff on the back of his neck.

"You seek to rid the world of me Alfred.. a once devote follower" rasps the voice "It seems the town has corrupted you. I am not the evil you seek to destroy.. "

The man remains still, his silvery beard glistens with the streaks of blue light, beaming softly from above. His scarred face, tired. He draws his sword and walks to the shadows raising it above his head.. he cries out in rage and fear, he charges....

The dull clank of metal fills the air, the man lies motionless on the floor, his face twisted in an expression of terror, blood seeps slowly from his mouth. He is dragged into the shadows by an unseen hand...

The shadows curled around him distorting trunk and branch robbing clarity from sight and muffling noise, shutting his eyes as if to deny the darkness that seemed to own the forest, the young captain retreated a few steps until his back hit the trunk of a tree.
”something solid….something real”
He pressed his back against the tree feeling the sap flow slowly through the trunk, a trick Caitlin had taught him and one that came so easily since so much of her essence had passed through him. Grounding himself to the moment he tried to gaze through the shadow, think and feel through the icy ache that gripped his scared chest and the slow pull of the fresh wound in his side.
Your shadows avail you little I am no fourteen year old girl or peasant, is Moshrans beast now the hunted that you hide now?
He shouted against the creeping gloom.
Forcing himself to adopt a casual stance against the tree trunk he set himself to wait rather than risk turning an ankle on root or turf in the surreal gloom. His senses honed to ever movement and dull sound…
Come fiend, I have blade you really must see
He laughed stomping down the fear that sought to rob his courage

The shadows grew closer to the laughing man, A voice rasps from the shadows...

"Brave words for a man with much to lose"

The man remains still, his heart racing. The shadow stretch and contort across the leafy ground, no other sounds escape the vast expanse of the shadows other than the rasping voice.

"Your blade has no use to you, as the 12 have discovered.

Do not seek me again, less you wish more death and fear within your

town than you can handle. I stand by my words to take a life for every

day that passes without the 13th in my possesion." The voice rasps..

"Do you really risk the lives of those on this island to protect just one?

Would you yourself assist in the murder of your own citizens who you

claim to protect for your own personal gain?"


The voice pausly briefly, a faint rush of breath escapes from the shadows.. a laugh..

"It seems, Caitlin wanders the forest..she has found Alfred..."

Sitting in the cushioned chair at the fireplace in the tavern, Perceval reflected on todays happenings. Quietly he smoked his pipe and leaned back in the comfortable chair, obviously tired yet somehow restless.
They've been given away. Words spread about them already. He could've been imprisioned by now.

"The townguard of Trollsbane knows about your reputation, mister Crippen... and I'm fairly sure they're on your trail already this moment."

The words of the earl still echoed in his mind. The guard knows about you mister Crippen.. the guard...
suddenly he sat up straight in the chair and his eyes flashed up for a brief moment, being astonished by his insight his mouth dropped open and the pipe fell on the ground infront of him.

"Oooh this miserable son of a mule, if I get my hands on him..." he thinks.

In the glimpse of an eye he has put out the pipe and was ready to leave, whereever he would find him he'd be sure to make him pay.

No normal sword and your past eleven where innocents and lightly unarmed.
He hissed through clenched teeth as he tore the swords from there hilts, the strange green glow illuminating his face. The other black as night…

The sword of the demon knightmare touched with a dread poison and now consecrated in Tanoras most holy water your name bound to by oath I swore in blood.

He let the blade dance through the air as he cast his eye the midnight black sword.

A sword torn from a dead drow’s hand a blade of magic now turned into a weapon to send your soul screaming to the void. By Malachin’s grace.
My faith has always been my shield and now I hold it in my hand in the form of two swords, your soul is in jeopardy executioner.

Enraged by the words that seemed to hammer in his ears he launched himself from the tree trunk standing in the middle of the small clearing shouting at the shadow.

Lives for hers? You have to ask? We are not so foolish as to think it ends with the child, any one in my protection would die for the life of a child. The fact you speak of my daughter only doubles my wish to end you. Do not attempt to make me party to your murder and do not think we are ignorant of your nature.
I name you fool Rashmantil for you have assumed me one.

Slowly he turned casting his eyes through the shadows seeking the source of the words.
Coward… he snarled
I go to my ladies side now, follow and die for now I know your nature your reign of terror ends,I shall return with men enough to beat the forest and flush you as vermin.

Laughing manically as man who has suddenly stumbled upon some queer joke he slowly began to back out of the glade, moving with a warriors speed between brush and tree covering his back as best he might against an enemy he couldn’t see.

Finally leaving the shadows behind him the man picked up his stiff stride days in the forest had done little for his wounds from the battle or his mood. The swords hissed like snakes as he sheathed them at his belt.
The light in the distance drew his attention, Caitlin? He called even though he instinctively knew the answer.


He looked down at the body and the twisted face of the dead Alfred, and lashed out a vicious kick with his steel boot not even flinching at the wet thump of the connection.
Traitors get there dues, sir Corvaine hide an orc in varshikar you were lucky perhaps I meet you now only in death. Feed the crows and make your flesh useful for once,
My lady I confess I am thirsty and tired shall we head for town?
Coward has no heart to face me, perhaps if we find me a dress and I enter the woods on my knee’s next time he will find spine.

Thalodos sat in the library of Vanima.. his mind filled with a thousand thoughts and questions. Footsteps echoed throughout the building.. he looked up. There stood an elf, noble in face his green robes neat and extravagant.

"Greetings sir." The elf said.

Thalodos frowned slightly and spoke "Greetings Elf, can i help you at all?"

The stranger nodded.

"Aye indeed i do" he said, observing Thalodos with an intense stare. "I wondered if you could point me in the drection of the northern forest?"

Thalodos Nodded and rose from his seat.

"Your name?"

"Lathor Isakthin"

"A pleasure Lathor.. come with me."

Thalodos led the strange elf to the docks, the sea rough...

The stranger boarded and began his travels to the Northern Forest...