The flames dance lazily within the small clearing of the southern woods, tree's long dead stretch thier crooked arms to the flames, and the hunched figure within wears his dark cloak like a second skin. A broken voice speaks in a dry tone, his words aimed to the flames before him.
' Ahh Rasmantil, this meeting has been delayed for to long '
A hand reaches from the folds of the tightly strung cloak, a rolled partchment within the steely grasp.
' This should find you forsaken one, as many have found others before '
With a flick of his wrist the figure sends the partchment into the waiting flames, a small flash of light marks the remanents of the scroll.
' Till we meet Executioner.. '
A small sending
Moderator: Gamemasters