To the west of Valford lay a burial crypt which had remained untouched for years. Even now, villagers scarcely enter it's vicinity unless they wished to pay their respects to their ancestors of old. 

The crypt stretched deep underground, linear in it's architecture, where you would only need to travel through several rooms to reach the end. The torches which lined the halls were no longer lit, save for a few rooms which were...inhabited. The deeper rooms in the burial crypt were home to many animated, moving skeletons which wandered aimlessly, occasionally banging their weapons against the walls which echoed throughout the nameless crypt. In the deepest room sat Aedius Darkwater, the exile. Atop a 'throne' (pile) formed entirely of bones, he had made a temporary home out of the crypt, without the citizens of Valford being aware of this. He had been there for a while, and had managed to survive by leaving the crypt nightly, and stealing any supplies he could on his own, without the assistance of his minions; lest he bring upon himself the threat of the Magic Council.

He was content in his ways for now, and planned to move on from his new living-space in time. But until then, he desired more defences - namely beside him. Aedius reluctantly stood up, aware that the spell he was about to cast would take time. He began to recite an incantation from memory, but stopped midway, under the realisation that he did not recall all of the words to his spell. He turned to his right, and picked up a book which he had acquired from Darkwater's library shortly before his exile. He would proceed to flick through the pages until he found his desired spell.

He sighed to himself.