Ramius Kastagir, Iron Forest, some miles South-West of Campus Magnus.

There was both danger and chance for glory in being so close to an enemy encampment. Despite the inherent danger of Campus Magnus' close proximity The White Raven was not concerned. There were fresh corpses laying on the feet of the revenant and his forces - corpses of a small parol which had not been expecting an attack so close to their own lines no doubt. The skeletal fingers of Ramius' right hand tightened around the pole atop of which hung a tattered banner depicting a white raven. He stood silently, maybe plotting, maybe reminiscing as he stared towards Campus Magnus.

"Sir... Kastagir..." One of the lesser revenants - from a group of dozen - spoke with a raspy, hushed tone. "Perhaps we should ...retreat?" The single burning eye of the White Raven turned towards the lesser being. "A sound plan for now. Traitors, form up!" The twelve lesser revenants formed up around their leader, as did the shambling lesser undead who had heard the revenant's dread call.

Without another word the group - numbering perhaps a hundred at most - began heading deeper to the forest.

Location: Actium

Sarai walked through the bustling crowds, the curiosity on her face as plain as the sun was shining. Never before in her life had she been witness to such lively streets. It was a strange sight, to see so many people in one place that were not monks. Another bonus to her new found freedom; and make no mistake, for she knew full well that she was prisoner to the fears of her parents and the monastery's lifestyle. Under their 'guidance, so-called, they made great attempts to dissuade her from the songs of the dead. Sarai smiled blithely. Their efforts to dull the song were for naught, and only served served to strengthen its chorus. And now, she was free. Free to take the knowledge they had given her and use it for own purposes!

The Favored of Death giggled to herself. She couldn't help it! After nearly ten years of nothing but meditation and lessons and having to wear such uncomfortable - though charming in its own right, she conceded - clothing, she could spend and do whatsoever she liked, so long as she kept her end of the bargain. Speaking of which, she would need to get to Campus Magnus soon. While she had enough funds to last a week or so, she was keen on making her presence official here and start towards Dragonsblade Tower - her final destination, and the focal point of her interest in the Dead Lands.

Sarai did not consider herself a Necromancer, merely someone who appreciated the intrinsic qualities of death and undeath. Certainly, it was an appreciation that most would not understand, but that did not matter to Sarai. She knew what she felt. To that end, she wanted to experience the ultimate display of death, and what better place to do so than at the tower of the greatest Necromancer of them all?

As Sarai walked to the nearest inn for rest, her mind wandered to her future plans. Distracted as she was, she scarcely noticed that there was a someone in front of her until she bumped into them. Jumping about two steps back, a small squeak of surprise made its way out of her mouth. She raised her hands in apology to the young . . . man? Woman? She-male? In any case, the youth was rather effeminate. And well clothed, she noticed.

"Apologies for running into you, uh," Sarai paused, unsure how to address this nobly-attired stranger. In the end she decided with something settle for just apologizing. "Er, I'm sorry I bumped into you. I was lost in thought." It was then Sarai noticed the young scrap of a girl riding a horse next to the . . . person. Was she a slave perhaps?

---

Location: East of Gallowsford

His isolation was coming to an end.

Thorn looked up from where he sat to see an incoming lesser wraith. This was the fifth time he had seen one come so close to his area seclusion. He raised a brow as it came closer. This was the first time one had approached him. Normally, no undead that was even a little sound of mind dared approach him; he had made himself infamous for the way he treated those undead wretches that approached him callously.

"Thomas the Hero," it's raspy, hollow voice echoed across the plain. Thorn was instantly irritated by the sound of it. Come to think of it, was there ever a time when he was not irritated by the voices of un-living? "You are summoned."

Thorn stayed silent. Who was it that thought to summon him? Another revenant, seeking to add the once legendary hero to their ranks in a bid for power? Or was it some wraith that had included him in some dark scheme? Perhaps it was Gedeon the Red, who was the closest to what one might call a King among the dead men of Iron Coast. Nevertheless, no matter who it may be, Thorn had but one answer to give.

An armored fist shot out, gripping the wraith by its thin neck. In surprise, it struggled fruitlessly as it turned ethereal, in an attempt to slip through his grip. Thorn had anticipated this, however, as his gauntlet was glowing with a warm, rich light, that prevented the wraith from passing through it. A sizzling sound could be heard from underneath the gauntlet.

"No."

And with that, the Lesser Wraith's neck broke in half, and it's mist-like body floated pitifully unto the floor. Thorn watched impassively as its body deflated, like paper doll crumpled and thrown away. Looking up, he saw the figures of more wraiths slink away, retreating from him. Thorn stood up and whistled. A minute later, Steadfast ambled on besides him. Mounting the great warhorse, Thorn adorned his helmet.

"Let's go, Steadfast. This place can provide us with rest no longer." The question was, where to go now? There was something shifting in these Dead Lands, something that was sweeping up all the dead ones who haunted the land. Thorn did not know what it was, but it could feel its influence spreading, see its effects first hand. Something was afoot, and Thorn wanted no part in it.

So Thorn turned towards the Iron Forest. Imperial Patrols were the frequent there, but not frequent enough that they couldn't be avoided. He would have to stay there, for the time being, at least until he knew what to do next.

He rode for a whole day without rest, and only came to a stop as he saw a small number of undead shambling through the forest. His eyes narrowed. What were they doing here? Thorn looked up to the banner containing the emblem of a white raven. He was unfamiliar with that standard, among the living or the dead. Thorn paused to observe them as they moved through the forest, wondering if, perhaps, he would be able to draw some information out of them regarding the strange activity among the dead of Iron Coast.

Ramius Kastagir, relatively deep in the Iron Forest.

"...Perhaps we should ...advance more cautiously." One of the lesser revenants suggested with a polite edge to it's raspy voice. Ramius did not answer, instead he just examined their surroundings aa the group shambled forwards. The White Raven had no interest in the matters of the living - nor did he care that much of the matters of other revenants either. Suddenly he lifted his left hand, motioning his forces to stop - he did not care about the few who continued shambling forwards. His eye had spotted a rider - a revenant by his quick estimate. "It would seem we have company." Ramius shook his head slightly as he moved the banner to his left hand and gouged an eye from the head of one the most recently risen shambling soldier and used it to fill his empty eyesocket. Soon the cold fire filled the second eye as well. "Wait here." The tall revenant ordered his men and began calmly approaching the rider.

"That's the mistress, or so it is," the little orphan said gleefully, pointing in the direction of a lone tree on the outskirts of Campus Magnus. It was far enough to be clean from the muck, but close enough to be enveloped in the settlement's less than heavenly smells. "Said she'd give me more coin if I could bring her good men, or so she did."

Gripus smiled at the orphan, amused by his common tongue. He reached into his robes, and pulled out five gold denarii. "There's another ten of those, if you can find me some people similar to the 'mistress'." The boy needn't ask nor hesitate, and was shot of Gripus and Liliana in the blink of an eye, losing himself in a passing throng of people. "This is no way for a boy to grow up," Gripus remarked bitterly.

The mage switched his attention back to the tree, and saw two robed figures. Both appeared feminine from their movements and body language, with one seemingly relaxed against the trunk, and the other offering her a flask. Gripus could feel their auras from where he stood, their intensity filling him with hope. Such powerful allies would be tools worth bargaining for. Though perhaps it was unwise for a formerly renowned member of the Imperial Magi to simply barge his way into their interaction.

"My lady," Gripus said, addressing Liliana. "Those are the two we seek, though be warned for they are powerful. Should they join us, our chances of success will be boosted threefold. Go, inquire as to their availability. I will remain at the rear, lest they cut me down," he finished with a chuckle.

Wal's exploration through the city was rather uneventful, but nostalgic for him. It had been a long time since he had been in the city and it changed so much. He spent a few years in the city a long time ago when his family left the forest. He had a slight desire to see them again. It would be nice to see how they ended up, but he wasn't so lucky this time. His old home had been replaced by a jeweler. He enjoyed walking the streets, taking in all of the changes the city made since he last saw it. They had made some miraculous recoveries since the war. He was quite oblivious to the looks he was receiving from the townsfolk. They weren't quite sure what to think of him. He wasn't undead and bandits stuck to the shadows. The monks must be some weird people.

He made it to the port later that day and found the Swampweed Inn. It was a rather nice Inn with a bar/restaurant and two fireplaces on each end of the building. Wal went to the clerk and asked how much a room for the night cost. Wal thought it was a bit expensive, but he suspected he would have a lot of work ahead of him and a good night before always helped. He went to the restaurant and bought some bread, frogs legs and tea. The inn had a fireplace in the restaurant and on the other side of the building as well. When his food was finished he left the bar and sat in a lounger near the far fireplace. He made a sandwhich of the bread and frog legs and just sat comfortably enjoying some selfish comforts for once. He would occasionally turn to see the various residents head up the stairs on his side of the building, and turn in for the night.

In a seedy, filthy alleyway in Actium, the shivering little Serpica removed a few loose bricks from one of the walls, thereby revealing a small crevice. Her small hands reached into the darkness one last time, and she retrieved her few meager possessions. Not quality goods, to be certain, but each and every last piece of garbage inside that wall meant everything to the small Lamia.

Her broken rocking horse, Black Thunder, was already inside Al's cart. Serpica still wasn't certain why the man would allow her to come with him. She didn't even know why he would accept her in the first place. But that didn't matter. What mattered is that for the first time, after talking and sharing an excellent soup made of boot leather, Serpica felt wanted. Not just tolerated, but wanted.

Serpica removed a stale crust of bread. Only recently had she acquired it, but it was the least fungal crust she had ever laid eyes on. She turned back to Al, smiling, and said, "We can share it later! Let's have it with the left over soup."

She returned to the hole, and removed her most precious treasure. It was the shiniest, smoothest pebble she had ever found in her ten years roaming the city. Just holding it and rolling it around in her tiny hands made her feel more at ease. She clasped the treasure close before reaching back in and pulling out a deck of cards. Over the years, Serpica had been picking up spare cards, and she almost had a full set. To her, each and every card was a memory. Next, she pulled out a tiny sock. Perhaps her luckiest find, this sock was just the right size to cover the very tip of her tail snugly. She didn't really know if this made her any warmer or not, but it certainly felt like it did. Lastly, she grabbed Anna, a small square of burlap filled with tiny rocks. This was her favorite doll, and the third member of their adventuring group.

Serpica slithered over to the man, still trembling from the cold, and placed each precious object into the cart adjacent to him. She then grabbed onto his arm, and coiled her tail around it.

"It's cold," she murmured, hugging the man's arm tight. She had no idea until today that Humans were quite so warm.

Or maybe it was just Al.

Al leaned into the cart as Serpica loaded up her worldly possessions, going over his own meager belongings. The boots they shared for food would stave off hunger, but he had no rations besides that, unless you counted... that.

Of course, his horse would be a good supply of meat, but Al couldn't bring himself to eat the stallion. Besides, what else would haul the gold once he killed that Wraith? At this rate, they'd have to either eat wild game or sell off a few of his own possessions to scrape by; most were packed into a small crate.

Al's eyes perked up as a handful of items were placed into the cart, and a tail coiled around him "It's getting pretty chilly out." he smiled, ruffling the girl's hair.
"Actually... here. You need this more than me." he said, taking off his longcoat, placing it on her shoulders. The heavy leather draped over her shoulders and she could barely get her hands out of the rolled up sleeves, but it was sturdy and insulated. Moreover, it was real clothes and not a sack.

Location: East of Gallowsford

Thorn did a quick count of the numbers before him. By his estimate, they were roughly a hundred men, comprised mostly of lesser undead. He couldn't see any more Revenants in the army, asides the one approaching him now. So it was a contingent independent of the more powerful Wraith's and Revenants; in other words, what was commonly known among them as an 'upstart'. Thorn's eyes trained on the one Revenant of the group, most likely their leader. He was the prototypical Revenant. Proud, powerful, and ever domineering. It was no wonder that their kind could so easily command the lesser undead to their bidding.

Wait . . .. their kind? What?

Thorn looked forward, and his vision blurred red. Undead! What were they doing here?! And where was he? This place looked like the forest near Actium, but the trees were too grey. It can't be that he was separated from the rest of the troop. Thorn readied his mace and steered his horse backwards and did a quick count of the foes in front of him. Nearly a hundred undead, with a Revenant at the helm. He narrowed his eyes at the prospects of having to fight them all. At best, he'd manage to bring down half of them before going down himself, and at worst, he could be killed and resurrected - not a fate he was eager to have. The best strategy right now would be to retreat, but -

His head jerked back violently, and Thorn returned to the present, and gave a low, tired sigh. It had happened again. At least, it had not happened in the middle of combat. Those times were the worst. Shaking his head, Thorn brought steadfast forward to meet with the fellow Revenant coming to him.

"Hold, that's far enough," he said, once the distance between them had shrunk enough for him to be heard without raising his voice. "I'll forestall pleasantries for now and get straight to the point: What is your business here?"

His hollow voice was stern and clear, echoing across the silence of the forest. Thorn watched the other Revenant closely, monitoring his every movement. Most of them were prideful and oftentimes not keen on his attitude - they all of them demanded respect that came at no price; as if Thorn would have given it - and as a consequence, usually attacked him at this point. He put them out of their misery quickly afterwards.

Ramius Kastagir, East of Gallowsford

Ramius stopped calmly as the other revenant spoke, he had no need to be hostile for the moment. Casually the White Raven plunged the shaft of his banner to the wet soil and took one final step towards the mounted figure with his hands calmly held behind his back. "I bet if I were any of the other of our kind this forest would soon be a field of battle." Though slightly mumbling his voice was loud enough for the rider to hear. "I would not like that, for there would be no one to tell the tale." Ramius tilted his head slightly to the right and smiled his rather unnerving half smile. "To answer your question I was leading this rabble close to Campus Magnus in hopes of proper combat, instead we only came across a small patrol - who decided to... volunteer for my cause." The White Raven's chuckle had no joy or warmth in it as he glanced at his forces.

He turned his attention back to the rider while scratching his goatee with the skeletal fingers of his right hand. "Now you are probably thinking what to do with this 'upstart' you see in front of you? I can assure you if it would have been battle I was seeking we would not be even having a conversation to begin with." Ramius' tone had a very slight hint of cold amusement to it, like he was remembering something from so far away. "So either you charge at me and it will be like we never had even this little chat, or we can continue being polite to each other and avoid a needless scuffle. What say you, sir?"

Pyria's tantrum stopped quickly, as she was completely caught off guard by Luca's actions. She was then put on a horse, and given even a ride. "YAAAY, you're a great servant. Horsie ride, go!" She childishly snapped as she flailed her arms, full with joy. She tensed somewhat when a new opponent appeared, her gaze narrowing and fixating on the newcomer. Tripping on Luca, huh? As If.

Her eyes wandered examinating the woman. Well, she did look quite lovely.

A perfect prey. A dark voice whispered in the corner of Pyria's mind, but she managed to shrug it off. She still didn't manage to hide her hostility.

"Big boobies won't steal Luca. He's mine, understand! He's my servant!" Pyria said, with zero tact and compuction. "But if -you- are interested, I need a chambermaid."

---

Tsabal's head tilted upon the negation of the offer. She might be one of us, after all?. Her mind raced, and was about to reply, when the other woman continued with her tirade. It made her eyes narrow. Suffer from the men's mistakes? Now that's surfacer crap. We normally execute the rambuctious males. She was about to leave, when the revelation of the stranger's face, or the Lady of Shame, as she regarded herself struck her.

A mutt.

Thinly smiling in the corners of her mind, she crouched before the resting, and seemingly relaxed she crouched before her. "Highly amusing." She said, as she took a hand and revealed her visage only to her. Lilac eyes met with Ella's eyes, as if piercing through her. "A child of hatred. The elves shame you. My kin would likely kill you. I would probably kill you. And yet you're here, making an offer, and trying to curb my favour. At least you got spine, and won't crumble under the odds easily."

She smiled. "By all means, I should decline your offer. Yet I won't. You're special. The kind of rarity one sees in a fleeting antlion fly. Something that exists briefly only to disappear on the next moment." She chuckled slightly. She gave the other woman a light tap in the shoulder, as she covered herself up once more. "Chin up, lovely. The show's about to start." She added as she turned her again masked visage sideways.

I need not to tell her why I will help her. People don't react well when they are told they can become destroyers full of hate and resent, or worthy sacrifices.

"More fools to join the circus, I see." She said out loud, addressing the oncoming strangers. "I suppose you don't want a divination or a love potion, don't you?"

Luca smiled up at Pyria as he walked, glad to see her fit over and done. While he had apparently already attracted attention to himself in several forms, he wished to avoid more trouble. Not that the Elf he had encountered was particularly troubling, but events seemed to move far more quickly here than in the temple that was his home. He was still considering this when he was bumped into from behind, causing him to stumble forward a step. It looked like he would be unable to find peace just yet.

"Big boobies won't steal Luca. He's mine, understand! He's my servant!"

Having not quite fully turned about, Luca heard Pyria's exclamation and felt the blood rush to his cheeks and begin to burn. It was only a moment later that he completed his turn, hanging his head slightly so that his hair fell over his face, to regard the young woman. Making the observation that she was in fact rather well-endowed only made his cheeks burn all the hotter as the blush spread to encompass his ears and a good portion of his neck. None of his Sisters could hope to match this stranger.

"R-really, it's no trouble. Ah... no trouble at all," he stammered out, perfectly flustered. In his mind his eyes rolled and he slapped his palm to his forehead, but neither of these actions found a base in reality. He wanted to rush into the inn and hide now, but that would only serve to embarrass himself further. Instead, he decided that making introductions was likely the best course of action. "As she said my name is Luca, humble servant of the Raven Queen. This is Pyria, whom I have only just met, and this is my horse Snow." At the sound of her name the horse half-turned, enough to look over Luca's shoulder to take in the situation before resuming her placid and silent standing.

'A child of hatred? Your kind would know all about that, wouldn't you?' The words burned her lips, she yearned to have the courage, but feared what a drow offended could do. Lilac eyes pierced through the woman, she could barely stop the shiver in her shoulders. 'She will devour my existence and leave naught but bones and death in her wake if allow her to. I must not falter, lest she she chooses to scorn me and carve her contempt into my skin.' Bitter anger coursed the El as she reached her conculsion.

'What spine? A mistake, and yet I have saved and cursed myself in one breath. Lady, do you forsake me, or bless me with these events?' Her pleas to her goddess interrupted as the "crone" continued.

'The attention of a drow, this is truly a curse.' Feeling the tap on her shoulder, El's eyes traced quickly over the once again hidden visage. Looking over the now covered drow, she saw two people approaching.

Standing, she looked over them, and saw something that brought a chill to her bones. An elf? First a drow, and now an elf. What curse she bears on this day. Despairing over these events, she watched them approach, hearing tge "crone" call out to them about divination and love potions. She nearly scoffed. A drow, brought low enough to feed the vices of their enemies. What an amusing thought.

"The Fallen Star, and The Hero of the East? I must say companions as famed as you would be welcome on my journey. I am The Lady of Shame, Ellasapet. I bring forth the mights of alchemy, and dominion over the living body. I am both an alchemist and anthropomagus. My skills would fair us well in these journeys."

"Do they scare you, oh Hero of the East?" Liliana teased, examining the pair in the shade of the tree. She could sense their auras now, and would be lying if she said that she felt no anxiety. These two were each strong in their own right, but the High Elf's air of confidence held as she moved toward them. Both wore cloaks and cowls to obscure their figures and faces, which was disconcerting, but would not deter her. One of them addressed her and the mage as she began to approach, giving her reason to pause a moment and consider her own words.

"If I sought either, I'm sure the man behind me could easily provide. No, we seek not your magic for something so simple. A certain young boy passed us earlier, spouting something about heroes gathering to assault the Dark Tower and claim the prize in return for the wraith's death. And so here we are, led by that same boy to you now. My name is Liliana, the man is Gripus, and it appears we all seek the same end. We bring blade and magic to bear, respectively, and wish to know if you would travel with us in this quest. I care not for a share of the reward, and four would survive longer than two on the haunting road we must walk."

Liliana held herself proudly as she spoke, hands once more resting on her sword's hilt and her belt. It was a common and relaxed posture for her, but one that would allow her to react easily should things turn sour. While it was doubtful any present would dare harm another within the bounds of Campus Magnus, she was wary of these strangers. Something about them just seemed... off.

Location: Actium

Sarai paused. Big . . . what? The girl looked down at her chest, a bit self-conscious. While it was true that she had a . . . sizable bust in comparison to others, this was the first time it had been pointed out to her so straightforwardly. Her face flushed in embarrassment as she stared incredulously at the little girl on the horse. She was a bit haughty to be a slave, so Sarai guessed she was probably a beggar. Then she registered what else the girl had said. She had said that the noble looking man - the girl had said he - was her servant, and that she needed a chambermaid, and now nothing made sense to her.

"I, uh, huh?" she muttered, confused and at a loss at how to respond to the girl. Shaking her head, she directed her attention to her companion instead, hoping to find some semblance of sense with him, and caught him staring at her chest. She bit back a shriek and took a few steps back as he stammered out his next words. She was sure that it was no trouble, what with what he got in turn!

"Y-yes, it's nice to meet you, Luca," she forced out, not quite sure if it was nice to meet him. Her curiosity was inwardly peeked as he mentioned his being a 'Servant of the Raven Queen'; that was not a name she heard too often. In fact, it was a name that she was familiar with only because of her interest in all matters of death. "I am Sarai, a humble healer of the Light of Man Monkhood."

Not sure of what to do next, she locked eyes with Luca, and froze. Her breath was shallow and her eyes went blank. As if in a trance her hands reached out to cup Luca's face. Her eyes wide and hypnotized, she kept staring at him in silence for what seemed like an eternity, before dropping her hands and smiling contentedly.

"You've an air of death about you. It's rather pleasant."

She whispered softly. Very softly.

Her demeanor quickly settled back to normal. "So, Luca, Pyria, Snow," she said, nodding to each of them, "what is it that brings you all here? You don't seem like the normal traveler."

---

Location: Iron Forest

Silence fell across the forest and stretched on for a minute as Thorn regarded the Revenant before him. It seems that he was not lent to the persuasion of arrogance, as so many of them had after their resurrection, but he did have the inclination to dominate. One out of two curses was not so bad, he supposed. Better one than to have both anyway. Still, the way he spoke and the way he acted, he was a warrior.

Thorn dismounted his horse, and left his sword at its side. He was surprised to find that he was taller than he was, even if it was by a small margin. Not many people - living or dead - were. "I assure you, I plan nothing towards you," there was an unspoken 'yet'; there always was, "merely wondering. In any case, I suppose the polite thing to do would be to introduce myself. I am Thorn, and I am beholden to none of the groups that dominate the Dead Lands." Thorn's voice was respectful, but also hollow, simply going through the motions of being polite, and not truly feeling it. In fact, it was the tone he held since the very moment he spoke.

"I've come here to avoid the stirrings among the other undead that roam them. Have you any idea of the cause behind it?"

Pyria eyed the scene with surprise and a growing contempt, before folding her arms and visiblely pouting her lips. Upon the prompt of the newcomer lady, who she was already hating her guts.

"I was entrusted as familiar to an elite mage, but he's dead. And now Luca freed me. I'm my own master now, hehee." Pyria smirked. "So I've decided to make Luca my first thrall in return!"

She paused before leaning towards Sarai. "Also get your own damn thrall, big boobed lady who keeps putting blank faces and whispering on Luca's ear."

---

"huh. A calling boy." Tsabal looked at El thoughtfully. Risky maneuver, count yourself lucky, mutt. She thought to herself as she folded her arms, eyeing up and down the newcomer. High elf. So beatiful, elegante. She wanted to strap her to a table, and carve her pure heart out, while she took slices of her tender flesh, one by one...

Yes, a victim to daydream for. Making a titanic effort to hide her contempt for the race that once cast her folk to the ever reaching darkness of the underworld, she tilted her head, in her all condescending nature.

"I'll take that as a no to my potions offer." She plainly said. "Bring down the evil, we all are powerful, yadda yadda" She elaborated soon afterwards. "You do assume too much, High Elf"

"For all you know, I could be two evil midgets in a suit, who eat babies and can fart demons and hellfire. Oh, and traded a baby for money." She blurted, deadpan.

"Still, the fact you can sense something's off with me being just a crone... well maybe that keen sense of yours can serve you out there. Frankly speaking, you might be the..." she interrupted herself momentarily, sighing."...the strongest this camp of scum has to offer."

She then began to advance towards the two. "I might aswell hop in this time, rather than keep waiting for a better chance at the camp. Count me, Bal the crone. I can heal. I can also figure out the pointy end of a sword and where it belongs aswell. So that's both magic and blade. In a single package." She finished.

Luca nodded at Sarai's introduction; he had studied under a monk from Light of Man for a time when he was first learning to channel the Raven Queen's power. The man had been a rare visitor at the temple, which was usually shunned by those who did not understand the goddess' relationship with death and fate. He was about to comment on this when Sarai's eyes met his and she suddenly brought her hands to his face. Eyes widening and lips parting in surprise, he starts to pull back but finds himself held in place by the intensity of her gaze. When her whispered words reached his ear, he gasped softly.

How...? What...? Impossible! Only then did Luca recall his lessons, and closing his eyes for a moment he opened his mind and senses to the current of magic around him. There were two things he noticed immediately. The first was that Pyria, for all her slender form and girlish bluster, had an aura of immense and undefined power that seemed completely inexplicable. Secondly, he noticed that Sarai's aura had elements that were strikingly similar to his own. Trying to sort this out, he misses his companion's reply entirely. After several long seconds however, he provides his own answer.

"I left my temple seeking to be part of something greater, and so the opportunity has come. I plan to join an expedition leaving for the Dark Tower as soon as possible that this curse may be ended. So many lost souls wander the Iron Coast, denied my Queen's embrace. However... with this storm coming I was planning to remain here and gather supplies today and tonight, and then make for Campus Magnus in the morning. Provided no such groups can be found here, of course."

Gripus watched the interaction with interest, using the exchange to focus on the cloaked woman. That her garments seemed to be fighting impossibly hard to hide her flesh from the sun was a clue as to her being right off the bat, but that her tongue rolled so mockingly over High Elf concluded his suspicions.

"Enough of your goading, earth worm. Time and circumstances are such that we can not dally, trading insults and beating our chests - you may be afflicted with some illness of the ego, but I can see you are no mere crone. I have reason to believe that Magnor Dragonblade has returned, and if I am right, then these wasted words are each another nail in our coffins... if we ever have the privilege, of course," he spoke plainly, keeping his tone neutral. "Your friend is right," he continued, motioning to the Drow's apparent companion. "I am Gripus Probus, Hero of the East, and Bane of King Morven of the Sand Elves. King Morven was a fierce warrior and with a skill unequaled; I slew him, because he alienated himself from his own generals, his own men, and was weak as a result. You would be wise to learn what you can from his tragedy. Make no further attempts to irk my companion, and forget not that all races are bound by our impending doom."

With that, Gripus rounded his attention on the Drow's acquaintance, another heavily cloaked figure and possibly kin. "And your help is most welcome. I make for the west gate, where my horse awaits me. Gather any provisions you may need, and meet us there. We'll talk more once we're on the road." He nodded at the Drow, and then to Liliana. "Come, let us go forth."

Serpica sighed as the warm coat draped over her small form and warded her against the biting cold. Her snakelike eyes drooped, and she considered taking a nap right there on Al's arm. For a minute her breathing grew softer, and she hissed pleasantly, her forked tongue quickly darting outside her lips.

"Thisss isss nissse," she murmured, drifting off. But no, wait! Serpica was a busy girl! There was no time for naps!

The Lamia's eyes shot open suddenly, filled with determination.

"Before we go, I need to settle some business," the girl informed Al seriously, "for the past couple of weeks, another girl has been horning in on my turf."

Serpica's eyes narrowed, and she glared at a distant enemy.

"She's been taking all the good garbage for herself, and leaving me to scavenge scraps elsewhere. She's about my age, so I didn't know if I could beat her. With you to back me up, though, we can give her a good scolding!"

Serpica patted Al on the back and laughed haughtily.

"I'll direct you! We'll find her, and teach her not to go taking other people's trash without permission!"

Liliana's suspicion grew as each of the women spoke further and she got a chance to listen closely to their voices. The way her race was brought into the equation narrowed the possibilities, for few but elves were likely to know it so easily, and even fewer held contempt enough for her kind to mention it in such a way. The Crone's reluctant agreement that they were likely the strongest of all those present in the camp came as no comfort, particularly when she seemingly flaunted her magical ability in Lili's face. The insult stung deeply, and it was clear that she took it personally by the way her fists and jaw clench. While she was trying to decide whether or not to draw her sword, Gripus spoke up and ultimately confirmed her suspicions.

Drow, then. And it seems this Lady of Shame may be as well, though much more reasonable. Absolutely wonderful. As one who understood being cast out and isolated, Liliana held very little against the Drow as a race. Who would not hate those who banished your kin and hunted them to relentlessly? While she was not being hunted in such a manner, she knew what it was like to be looked upon openly with hatred by cowards to weak to admit their fault. In the end, she chose silence and crossed her arms over her chest again. Now she really wanted a good fight, but it would not be so with Bal unless the Crone brought forth blade or spell first.

As she turned her eyes to the sky to examine the clouds she determined that the storm would suit her mood, and what magic she had left, rather well. Without a word Liliana turned to make for her tent. Her pack was there, as well as her bow and quiver. Her pack hung diagonally across her back, allowing her quiver to be slung underneath it. Whisper was strung, fitted into a pocket of leather on the side of the quiver. Thus equipped, she made for the gate to rejoin Gripus and any of the others who would be there.

'A High Elf calling a Drow and a mut heroes, oh how amusing' the woman mused thoughtfully. El opened her mouth to respond, but a sharp tongue cut her off.

'Must she antagonize them? I'd rather not have to kill this day, there are better ways to spend my day.' El thought scornfully.

And then listening to the Hero of the East's response, Lady above. There is enough arrogance and hatred swimming the air today.

Watching the High Elf's temper be tested was amusing though.

"Children, must I act the school marm? Or can we act at least a smidgen of our age?" El drawled at, annoyance twisted into the words. Bending down the woman lifted her pack, and her staff. leaning on the bone she walked forward "now, we are off to destroy an enemy, we don't need to attempt destroying each other first. It'd be a waste of time and effort. Let peace reign on this gods-forsaken journey, when we finish, we can kill each other joyfully, yes?"

Following Gripus, she began heading towards the West Gate. "I have everything I need here, we can stop to pick up some additional rations before we leave though. Assuming we need them."