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[Iituem]

Eowen held up his hand and Estriss nodded backwards to the rest of the villagers.  Many were already exhausted from the miles they had travelled thus far and simply dropped, some straight to the dirt and others onto large rocks or other surfaces.  The more vigorous began the work of setting up a camp, but Estriss shook her head.  The sun was still high enough and, Phera-willing, they would reach Drywall by dusk.

Estriss remained standing as the others took their seats, though she could feel the ache in her limbs as hard as any other.  It wasn't heroism, a noble gesture - it was pride.  Her mother would never have let herself sit until everyone else had taken to rest.   A priest maintains dignity, she recalled, the soft lilt of her mother's voice still strong in her memory.  Never show weakness, or their hearts will fail.  Look strong, look confident, even if you're crying inside, because someone has to keep it all together.

Eowen had not sat either, but likely not out of concerns for appearance.  Since he had been chosen by Carmanthyre, Eowen seemed possessed of a near boundless energy.  Now that he no longer had to play the cripple, Estriss wondered if this was the god's blessing or whether he had possessed this level of strength all along.  She supposed that in fairer times he might even have come close to being attractive-

Estriss drew herself up instinctually and allowed herself a small snort of derision.  As if she was some sort of waif of a girl, ready to fall in love with the conquering hero!  Jack had gotten that one wrong, alright, and it gave her more than a little satisfaction to know the god was fallible for all his power.  She looked down and realised her hand had strayed to the flint dagger at her belt.  She snatched it away, half of a mind to curse herself for ever digging it up.  Servant to Jack indeed.  What was he going to do if she didn't obey, kill her?  She burst into soft, if slightly bitter laughter at the thought.  Yes, kill her and let someone else do this.  What did she have left to lose now, anyway?

Estriss' gaze flitted to the smoke on the horizon.  Drywall.  A day ago they had passed further than she had ever been from the village in her life, and this would be the first time she had ever set eyes on the village.  When the trail of smoke had first been sighted many of the villagers had panicked, remembering all too clearly their own homes ablaze, but the more experienced huntsmen amongst the village explained that there wasn't enough to signify the village burning.  Most likely it was just the smoke of village hearths.

Drywall was important.  One of the survivors from her own village had lived there as a boy and visited in the last few years.  As well as hopefully untroubled people, Drywall possessed a working forge and a smith.  Even if Drywall could not be held, the smith would be needed if they were serious about raising a resistance at Dordrath.  The survivor had also told her of the chief of the town, an old warrior from Dordrath who had fought in the Arena in his youth.  He had lived through the combat of the Arena and through battles with mere human raiders, and might have the experience needed to train their people.

"He has a god," the villager had warned her.  "Khan, they call him.  He and the smith both look up to Khan, and they have a shrine to the god in Drywall."  A god.  Estriss dreaded the thought.  How much mayhem had the gods brought upon them already?  Would she have to deal with another to get the aid of the warrior and the smith?

A weak sniffling sound caught Estriss' attention and she broke out of her reverie to attend to it.  Urena had fallen over when the rest had been called and she lay in the dirt, too tired to pull herself back up.  Estriss formed a slight frown at the behaviour.  Ever since the strange beast had brought the girl to her she had tried her best to look after Urena, but it had been difficult to mother her with everyone else to care for as well.  Estriss knelt by the girl and offered her hand.  Urena took it and, seeing that Estriss would not simply lift her, slowly hauled herself back up onto her bottom.  Estriss kissed her gently on the forehead and smiled.

"A priestess maintains dignity."

Eowen's band recruits villagers from the razed settlements and makes its way to the settlement of Drywall along the route to Dordrath.  There they hope to recruit the aid of a Khanite warrior and smith.

[Evergod41]

"Hmm, I knew it was bad, but look at the size of that group!" Bunduk was purely amazed at the amount of what he thought to be imigrants from the pillaged villages. He stood near the village center and watched them set up tents and such, counting them while the crier marked the new population. "Heh, better hope for a good harvest this year... we might not make it this winter."

[Karnewarrior]

"You girls sleep. I'll take first watch."

It was a harsh thing, exile. Even with the energy of a god coursing through him, Eowel felt tired after the days walk. Not as much as the more mortal townspeople, but more than enough to be felt. Still, he wanted to impress Estriss.

He had had a small crush on her back in the village. He would never admit it to anybody, but if they had payed close attention they would have noticed that while the occasional crime would befall any other member of the community, Estriss had never, never been the victim of even the slightest crime.

Eowel supposed it was a bit selfish. Other people had lives and loves, and...

And most of them died in the attack. The sobering thought brought Eowel out of his love fueled reverie. And just in time too. A large animal was nuzzling up to the food stores, foraging for a easy meal. Eowel swung a large stick at it and made some soft yet harsh noises.

Wait. This is no ordinary creature. I sense the tingle of divine power here. Sort of a... Mint, except rotting? It's gross.
So this thing is?
I don't know. But it was made by a neutral god or godess, hence the mint. Probably a god of rot or decay, from the obvious bits.
Do I whack it or not?
Gods do not create mindless animals without formidable defenses.
So don't whack it?
I think... I think it's sentient.
 
Eowel thought for a moment while the thing rustled about. If it was a sentient, he could speak to it. If it was a sentient, it could be turned into a ally, possibly a powerful one, if the species was possessed of great power.
 
"Alright rat-thing." cooed Eowel softly, making his presence known to the thing. It turned sharply and sniffed in his direction. It was baldish, with short tan fur covering folds of fatty skin. It's eyes seemed completely obscured, although the thing seemed to be able to see fine. Still, it's rat heritage made it flighty and more dependant on it's scent of smell.
 
"Come here, I don't want to hurt you." Eowel reached for a sack of grains and produced a handful of small fruits. "Look, I have food."
 
The thing skittered back a little ways, but didn't run. A good sign.
 
Eowel placed the food on the ground and backed up slightly. It was up to the creature now.
 
Eowel encounters his first Murr. He tries to befriend it.

[Digital Hellhound]

The Chosen swarmed through the ten portals like the waters of a broken dam, unstoppable and relentless. They had only one objective in mind - the destruction of this village and death of all it's inhabitants. Enslavement was too good for these creatures.

They reached the end of the fields, but did not slow down. Once they made their way inside the village, however, they stopped. They had expected to see ragged, weary villagers, not expecting another attack. But there was nothing. The entire village looked abandoned.

The Chosen spread throughout the settlement, but only found the dead, and marks of battle. They had been robbed of their kill - again. The human villagers - if that they were, given the horrible creatures they had summoned to fight alongside them - had disappeared like dust carried off by the winds. Never to be seen again, most likely.

Ghuran slammed the Scepter against the nearest wall in frustration. The thing cracked on impact, but Ghuran did not care. It was the War Council's invention in any case, given to a Chieftain when he took the throne.

He snorted. Ghuran knew he was the War Council's puppet - and had been for his entire life, just like his cousin and the fools before him. In the meetings, he would always be ignored - or if not, he would soon find his words twisted to suit the Council's needs. Those who still continued to push tended to disappear.
 
His youngest son would be the next Chieftain. The Council thought him easy to control at such a young age, no doubt. They were probably right. But perhaps he could do still do something. Yes, he would need to have a chat with his children soon.
 
' Chieftain? Will we return to Seyth? They are long gone.' a voice asked, bringing him back to the present. One of the warriors, one he did not recognize.
 
' Not yet.' he said. These humans had escaped their wrath twice already. They could not just let them go free. ' Return to the river. The honoured spirit should still be waiting there. Tell her to look for a band of refugees from this village along her home. If she does not find them, the rest of her kin will help. They will need to stop by the rivers and lakes to drink. They cannot hide from Amparos' first-born.'
 
The warrior seemed momentarily surprised, but that was quickly brushed aside by satisfaction and anger. No, they would not let this insult go unanswered. Ghuran glanced towards the river, where the warrior was already heading. In Seyth, behind the portals, a great army was forming. The Council had not reached the decision quickly, but now both High Blood and Low Blood trained there, together. Of course, the role of Low Blood would mostly be of support. They could not be allowed to fight side by side with their betters.
When they were ready, no being - be it a man or one of their horrible creatures - would be left standing.

[Lordinquisitor]

Rahisael shivered. He felt that something had awoken. Something that had long slept- Something he hadn`t expected.

A moment of doubt; A moment of thought; And then he had a new plan.

"Dordrath; Rahisael speaks. As you see the special spells i applied allow me to communicate directly to you. I have new orders for you. As soon as you find the time try to gather a cult around you. A cult of warriors and eager worshippers- They shall worship me, understood? You can be their king, though. Train them as an army, just like you did in your old city. Search among the deserted villages; Surely not all people are eager to leave their homes behind. Some surely want to fight. Persuade them that fighting is pointless if they die anyway- But show them that with training and discipline and my blessing they will be able to take revenge on their enemies. Once you have found a sizeable number of worshippers lead them to the Peak of Blood. They shall build a town at the base of the mountain; And you may rule about it again. See? Soon you`ll be the mightiest man alive again. I expect no failure."

"Let`s see how Dordrath will handle this. I hope my trust isn`t wasted. Now, let`s visit someone else.."

Old Scarpelt was the leader of the largest group of Wargaz; A bold and cunning warrior. Often he had led his tribe to war; Especially against the Northren. Often he had raided villages in the valley and he had returned with rich plunder; Weapons and crafts most valuable.

Right now his tribe was resting in the recently plundered Village- It was just a little one, and easy to conquer, yet they had found food and shelter for a few days.

The Wargaz didn`t build villages themselves. They were nomads; And able to survive in the wilderness. But a house was a welcome change; And naturally Scarpelt had claimed the biggest one for himself. In a few days they would move on; Most likely he would lead the Wargaz even deeper into the Valley.

He could hear busy, little, feet- They belonged to those strange rat people that appeared a few weeks ago. At first the wargaz had chasen them off; But they came back again and again- And being tired of it the Wargaz finally accepted them. They seemed to pose no threat to them anyway; They just appeared after each raid and stole the items the Wargaz didn`t claim for themselves. He assumed that having a few more watchful eyes around couldn`t hurt.

He could hear busy, little, feet. And something else- It sounded like.. Like Battle? He heard screams and the song of weapons.

He jumped up. Could it be that they were being attacked? He rushed to the door, ready to jump into the battle immediately.

"Stop right there. Let your men sleep; There`s no battle outside. I apologize for making such a noise."

Scarpelt turned around and faced the speaker. He was bigger than he was (And Scarpelt was quite big.) and armored from head to toe in some kind of shining, blood spattered, armor.

"Rahisael!" He gasped. "Father war!"

Like pretty much all Wargaz he was a faithful worshipper of Rahisael; And though the God seldom spoke to them they often saw him during their transformations- Or they saw his minions, the terrible walking corpses. The shamans said seeing those creatures was a sign of Rahisaels favor- But a grizzly one. Scarpelt was no coward, but even he feared them.

"Nice to be recognized. I congratulate you; You won a nice, if small, victory today."

"Thank you. I dedicate it to you. And i swear i will try to win more victories to satisfy your bloodthirst."

"I know that you are faithful worshipper of me. And that`s why i`m about to choose you for an important task. May i ask what your plans for the next few raids are?"

Scarpelt felt proud. Had he truly earned the trust of the god of war? In the history of the wargaz only one chieftain had ever been visited by Rahisael himself. (Though the History of the Wargaz was hard to track down; For they wrote nothing down.)

"I`m going to lead my tribe deeper into the valley; There i hope to find even greater riches and slaughter."

"Nice plan. If you want to get your tribe killed."

"I don`t understand. Why should we get killed?"

"A god who slept a long time has awoken and he is wroth. Right now he is forming his followers into an army; And i guess he will soon decide to get rid of the Wargaz that threaten his children."

He did not fear an army. It had to be an test; The God of war simply wanted to see whether he could be trusted.

"I fear no army. No Northren. No one. If you wish i`ll lead my Wargaz into battle and we will conquer them."

"No, you won`t."

"I appreciate your fervor but this is not the right time to dwell in thoughts of glory. The Lord of Winter is a mighty foe and this is his snowy realm. Facing him here is madness and suicide."

"I hate to flee from battle."

"So do i. But you won`t flee. You will advance. In another direction. Right now other gods are also gathering their armies- Big armies. And i`m no exception. A time of war and plunder and glory lies ahead and i can`t waste valuable warriors by sending them on suicide missions."

"What shall i do?"

"Lead your tribe away. Ever heard of the Peak of Blood?"

The Peak of Blood was a mountain far away; A mythical place. As he knew his ancestors were born near it. Now they had migrated away from it; But some hunters claimed that the walking corpses were attracted by it.

"Yes, some of my hunters know where it lies. It`s a grim place."

"Good. The Peak of Blood is my fortress. Or rather it will be, soon. I want you to lead your tribe to it. More; I want you to gather some of the other tribes around you, too. At the mountain you might meet other Creatures; Hurt them not. They are also my servants. They will show you how to build a camp. In return you will teach them how to fight and you`ll also provide them with meat through the hunt."

"I will, my God. But if what you say is true we have to leave soon- I`m not sure whether i can send messengers to all the tribes in due time."

"You don`t have to. Find those that are nearby- The other tribes have to play another role. And i have another order for you. Send messengers to the City called Dordrath once you arrived at the mountain. Propose an alliance and some trade agreements- Send them furs and bone and in return buy food and weapons and armor."

"I will, my God. But how will i able to persuade the other tribes?"

"Don`t worry, you will. Move out at dawn. See you later."

And then he was gone. Perplexed Scarpelt asked himself what Rahisael meant.

The door was opened and he heard the voice of Bloodclaw, his son.

"My Chieftain.. There.. There are abominations in the camp. They just stand there. The shamans say it`s a sign of Rahisael."

"Indeed it is." Smiled Scarpelt, turning around. "Tell the Warriors that we move at first light."

Rahisael orders Dordrath to found a cult of Rahisael and to move to the Peak of Blood where they shall build a city.

Rahisael orders Scarpelt, the leader of the largest tribe of Wargaz, to move to the peak of blood and to send messengers to the city of Dordrath. He shall also persuade other tribes nearby to join him.

Rahisael orders three abominations to follow Scarpelt as a sign of his favor.

[Ghazkull]

The small Murr stared in panic at Eowel. It's whole body began to shiver in anticipation and it retreated a few steps. It began to emit chirping noises while pointing at Eowel and then drew a small stone dagger and held it in a defensive position.
__________________________

It had taken days to fix up the fish man and the wound still didn't heal. Needles told him that they couldn't return the fish-thing to Greatgut. The journey would be to strenuous for the gravely injured being.While they waited the Haulers had brought his loot to Greatgut where it was stored in his own cave. The talking with the fish-thing was long and exhausting and the arrogant behaviour was straining Moleguts nerves. However he had gained useful information. The fish-things seemed to come through those shiny doors...how they managed it was still a secret to him but as the fish-thing spurted his arrogant insults it also revealed much information to the Fangleader. He had gathered that the being was named Gernad and the son of an important being within the fish-thing society. He...It was boasting about the battle prowess of the fish-things and the vastness of their numbers and that they would enslave the Murr. Molegut ignored most of the things the fish-thing was talking but he would keep it alive due to the value of its information. IF what the fish-thing said was true they could maybe exchange it against one of those shiny portals or at least sell him for more of that interesting carapace the fish-things were wearing...

Suddenly one of the Murr he send out to scout the outside of the cave came back.

Fangleader, the fish-things...they are coming back...too many to count, i have never seen so many beings!

Mere minutes later Molegut was crouched next to Greeneye. They both shivered in anticipation their glands emitting a strong odour of fear. Molegut was aghast, the fish-thing had spoken true, hundreds and hundreds of those beings were on the march. He had never seen so many beings in one place, except for the Greatgut but even there it were just Murr and not those huge beings. As he watched yet another group of fish-things was emerging through the portal. Molegut was contemplating his options. He could try and give the captured fish-thing back to them, but this was looking rather ridiculous ad the scene in front of him...stillthey could at least try. And in the worst case they would just run off. After all they were much faster than those clumsy beings.

Half an hour later a strange procession was marching in a direct line towards the Host of Chosen. About thirty black rat or mole-like things were coming towards the army while a bound and bandaged Chosen was carried by strange beasts...

[Digital Hellhound]

The Chosen began to spread out, forming a half-circle around the Murr band. They stared at the strange, walking rats in astonishment, unsure if they were hostile. The wounded High Blood amongst them raised some angry muttering. Was he their hostage? Had they come to barter for his release? If so, they would meet only death.

Ghuran pushed his way through the crowd, marching confidently to what seemed to be the leader of these strange beings. He studied the creature for a moment before proclaiming, unnecessarily loudly; ' You will release your prisoner or die, creature.'

They didn't seem to be very strong physically, and would most likely make poor slaves. Shame. Ghuran hoped it would understand him, or atleast gather from his tone what he wanted.

[ragnarok97071]

Spoiler: Colorless (click to show/hide)

Magus stands in the Archmages office. The aerie had been completed some time ago, taking up a large area beside the tower, though not very tall.
"My lord, it seems that there is a war brewing to the north. Our mages are scrying the area, and we have seen a massive host, seemingly ready for battle. We can assume that they will track the refugees to Dordrath, and will attempt to take the city." He slumps in his chair, exausted, as are the rest of them, from the increased weight of both war preparations after the village was the site of a godly battle, as well as teaching the new Marked about their power. "My lord, what are you planning?"
"To finish a creation I started long ago". And He is gone.
A great distance away, Magus arrives in the place where, long ago, he created the Phoenixes. Here he finally completes the task of creation.
Words spill from him. "Creations of mine, come! Come and be given a gift beyond imagining." a massive flock of his creations soon appear, each an immortal, and with quite a few more than he started with. he begins again. "My gift I give to you. Thought. Think, and through thaught, awaken to power.So mote it be." As he finishes this, a wave of magic erupts from his body, spreading into the phoenixes which now surround him, perched on every branch. Suddenly, they awaken.
One of them flits forward. "What is going on? I... You are our creator." Its voice is musical, heared more in the mind than in the ears.
"Yes, I am, and the one who gave you sentience just now." The bird cocks its head, and looks at Magus Intently.
"What do you wish of us?" At this comment, Magus chuckles.
"Sentient for less than a minute and you already thing I have ulterior motives. Then again, I do. War is coming. You are no warriors, but you can be useful in a war. you can go where others cannot, and due to your immortality, you are the perfect scouts."
"We will scout for you, but know we will not aid you without reason. This war we will aid you because you are our creator, but from now on, we require a reason to act, a benefit to ourselves."
"I might have known. I was the one that created that firey streak. It seemed fitting."
"Leave us. I am sure you have other things to do in preparation. Where can we meet you?"
"There is a city in the Frozen North. The only city, really. Go there, and ask for the archmage. by the time you arrive, he will be there."
Returning the the tower took no less time than it took going to the grove. within the archmages chambers, he speaks to the mage. "We have done all the preperation we can here. The time has come to mobilize. gather the Magi. Find out which of them has the strength for a lay-portal. the nearest conjunction is approximately 3 miles from the city, so be prepared for a walk in the cold."

Spoiler: Color (click to show/hide)

Magus stands in the Archmages office. The aerie had been completed some time ago, taking up a large area beside the tower, though not very tall.
What do you make of the recent eruption of godly power, and or routine montioring of Dordrath?
My lord, it seems that there is a war brewing to the north. Our mages are scrying the area, and we have seen a massive host, seemingly ready for battle. We can assume that they will track the refugees to Dordrath, and will attempt to take the city. He slumps in his chair, exausted, as are the rest of them, from the increased weight of both war preparations after the village was the site of a godly battle, as well as teaching the new Marked about their power. My lord, what are you planning?
To finish a creation I started long ago. And He is gone.
A great distance away, Magus arrives in the place where, long ago, he created the Phoenixes. Here he finally completes the task of creation.
Words spill from him. Creations of mine, come! Come and be given a gift beyond imagining. a massive flock of his creations soon appear, each an immortal, and with quite a few more than he started with. he begins again. My gift I give to you. Thought. Think, and through thought awaken to power. So mote it be. As he finishes this, a wave of magic erupts from his body, spreading into the phoenixes which now surround him, perched on every branch. Suddenly, they awaken.
One of them flits forward. What is going on? I... You are our creator. Its voice is musical, heared more in the mind than in the ears.
Yes, I am, and the one who gave you sentience just now. The bird cocks its head, and looks at Magus Intently.
What do you wish of us? At this comment, Magus chuckles.
Sentient for less than a minute and you already thing I have ulterior motives. Then again, I do. War is coming. You are no warriors, but you can be useful in a war. you can go where others cannot, and due to your immortality, you are the perfect scouts.
We will scout for you, but know we will not aid you without reason. This war we will aid you because you are our creator, but from now on, we require a reason to act, a benefit to ourselves.
I might have known. I was the one that created that firey streak. It seemed fitting.
[color=orangeLeave us. I am sure you have other things to do in preparation. Where can we meet you?[/color]
There is a city in the Frozen North. The only city, really. Go there, and ask for the archmage. by the time you arrive, he will be there.
Returning the the tower took no less time than it took going to the grove. within the archmages chambers, he speaks to the mage. We have done all the preperation we can here. The time has come to mobilize. gather the Magi. Find out which of them has the strength for a lay-portal. the nearest conjunction is approximately 3 miles from the city, so be prepared for a walk in the cold.

[Ghazkull]

Smalleye had taken the front position and it seemed that he was taken for the leader. Some instinct within him told him to run, but he stayed. He stared at the enormous fish-thing who was looking at him in a mix of interest, disgust and plain superiority. HE didn't understand what it said but it sounded, as he was used from theother fish-thing arrogant and angry. He began to signal that they had found Gernad nearly dead at the edge of the village and had fixed him up. Although he was sure that what he signalled was quite expressive and that even these dumb,arrogant creatures must understand him he was still unsure whether he would survive the next minutes.

[Digital Hellhound]

Ghuran looked back at the rest of the Chosen. Unfortunately, they seemed as confused as their Chieftain. The creature had began... signing so very fast, trying to tell him something. Ghuran was somewhat impressed. The thing didn't even bother with it's language, which showed atleast some degree of intelligence.

He thought he had gotten most of it's signing, but he couldn't be sure. The creatures had attacked the warrior and then fixed him up again? That made no sense. Why would they admit attacking him so readily? Sighing, he realized this wasn't going to work. His troops were aching for combat, robbed of their original prey, the villagers. Perhaps they should just kill these beings and be done with it.

Ghuran walked over to the wounded warrior. He seemed to be conscious, though his eyes wandered in their sockets, unable to focus on anything. Well, he needed him now. Perhaps the order of his Chieftain would shake him from his stupor.

' Warrior, speak! What are these creatures? What have they done with you? What do they want?'

[Ghazkull]

Gernad looked up at him, still in alying position and still bound by the fetters of the rat-things.

Those...beasts...i don't know what they are but they have rescued me after all. We were raiding the village and then one of those tree...things grabbed me and threw me like a childs toy.

 I landed on a stone and blacked out. The next thing i remember is waking up in some cave surrounded by those things. First i thought they would eat me but they just beat me unconscious and the next time i woke up they had closed my chest wound and bandaged me.

Gernad nodded with his head in the direction of his chest.

To be true...i have no idea what they want. All the time they just asked and asked and asked all over again. From where i came, what i am and how our portals worked. Otherwise they seemed...shy. Chieftan...where,where is my father? Is...is he still alive? Is Ganad still alive?

Gernads breaths were beginning to flatten, he was looking pale. One of the Murr was slowly moving towards him all the while looking at Ghuran with an face which asked for allowance too help the dying Chosen.

[Karnewarrior]

I'm going to set you down.
Fine enough.

Eowel lay the Godblade down beside him, motioning for the thing to come eat the small pile of fruit before him.

[dragnar]

As the mages prepare to move out, Endras appears just outside the tower, his red robes a perfect mirror of Magus's blue. "Hold brother! Why are you too becoming  involved in this fight? Even as busy as I have been in Dordrath, I have heard of the war brewing. It seems every god is busy raising an army of their own. But why? We at least have no reason to become involved, and what mortal army would be fool enough to attack a tower full of wizards without good reason?"

[ragnarok97071]

Spoiler: color (click to show/hide)

War is coming, brother, whether we like it or not. I do not relish this fight, but given time, these chosen could raise an army which could destroy even our mages. We cannot afford to allow this to come to pass. I do not expect that our neutrality will be respected for long when this world becomes embroiled in war, and even our power can be overcome. Given the opportunity, they will come. and they will turn our gifts into just another resource to be used for their domination. If you wish, I will take only my Marked mages, but I will go.

Spoiler: No_Color (click to show/hide)

"War is coming, brother, whether we like it or not. I do not relish this fight, but given time, these chosen could raise an army which could destroy even our mages. We cannot afford to allow this to come to pass. I do not expect that our neutrality will be respected for long when this world becomes embroiled in war, and even our power can be overcome. Given the opportunity, they will come. and they will turn our gifts into just another resource to be used for their domination. If you wish, I will take only my Marked mages, but I will go."

[Ghazkull]

The Murr still stared at the human. It slowly moved closer, always watching the swordarm of Eowel. Finally the fruits within grasp the small Murr places a small figurine depicting the minotaur of Dodrath out of some undefnable bone next to them before grasping the fruits and scurrying off into the darkness...