“There's a storm coming.”

A solider sat stoking a firepit, a pot of soup sat above the flames, its smell permeated the air of the small hut.

“Looks to be a rough one too.”

“Well nothing we can do besides bunker down and wait for the next boat tomorrow.”

“Aye, sir,” said the younger.

A crow cawed overhead as he locked the wooden shutters. It gave him an uneasy feeling in his gut. Crows were supposed to be connected with dark magic, and plenty of dark magic was locked away in this tower. He turned back to the elder, his face slightly pale. Omens never did sit well with him. The elder chuckled.

“Private Brinley, my boy,” said the elder with a grin, “You must be the most unlucky solider I know to be stationed here. I've been stationed here 20 years,” The younger rolled his eyes a bit, hearing this story over and over already, “You've only been here a few months and you still jump at everything that moves.”

The older scooped a ladle of soup into two small bowls. Steam rolled off the hot meal in stark contrast to the chilly air, it smelled just like something his wife would've made. He sat the bowls down on a small table.

“Relax my boy, this is my final duty before I retire and I need to know these prisoners are secure. You can't be jumping around at every sound.”

Brinley nodded, finding his worries suddenly foolish. The Captain was right. He sighed.

Suddenly, the reinforced doors flew open with a bright flash of lightning, splintering wood flew in all directions. Thrown to the ground by the force Brinely forced himself to his feet stumbling against the wall for support. Vision useless, ears ringing, and equilibrium nonexistent he reached for his sword and drew. All was now quiet save for the crashing of the waves outside and a set of light footsteps.

It would only be a moment, but it seemed like an eternity before his vision would regain enough to take in what had happened. His world still spun wildly as he attempted to focus on a slender figure standing in the doorway. He looked over where his Captain once stood. His body lay limp across the stone floor, blood already pooled below.

“Captain!” he yelled.

Still shell-shocked, turned back towards the slender figure, a tight but twisted smile came across its face as a black bird landed on its shoulder.

“CAPTAIN!”

Another bright flash.

The crow cawed.

- - - - - - - - -

The storm would pass overnight leaving a morning to behold. Robin awoke, and as was her habit every morning, she checked the college herb garden. Only today she was surprised to be met by the Archmage herself.

“Archmage Madia, what a surprise. Can I help you with something?”

“Actually you can Robin.”

Robin cocked her head slightly, wondering what in the world the Archmage would want with her.

“The Crown is looking for some people to assist in investigating an incident at Heaven's Needle.”

Robin was confused, “Archmage with all due respect I am hardly an investigator, I'm a herbologist.”

“The Crown asked for me to send someone and I could think of no one more capable than you.”

“But, Arch-” she was cut off.

“But nothing, you are going. Pack your things. You'll meet up with the other volunteers in the Castle courtyard this afternoon.”

Robin nodded her head in compliance but didn't say a word as Madia left. She let out a long sigh as as she plucked a pedal and rolled it between her fingers. “Why me?”

- - - - - - - -

The streets were crowded with the ramblings of the common folk. Their words all blending into a dull inchoerant roar. What in the world am I doing he-, her thought was interrupted by a soft crunch under her foot. She looked down. On the dirt road lay a piece of windblown paper, the large word 'ATTENTION' printed across the top. She picked it up slowly brushing of the dirt as she did. "Impossible..."

Having been on the road for a while, Roark was more than happy to arrive at a fairly sizeable market town on his way to the university at the human capital. On his arrival, however, he very quickly noticed a nervous, restless atmosphere to the place. Deciding to investigate, he soon found himself entering the first decent tavern he'd seen in several days. Settling onto one of the barstools, he spoke to the barkeep, saying "I'll take an ale. Something with a bit o'a kick to it, if you will." While the barkeep grabbed a mug for him, he continued, asking "Now tell me, what's got everyone gears in a jumble? I haven't seen a face in town without seein' someone what was worrying over something big."

"Oh, haven't you heard?" the barkeep responded, setting the mug of ale down in front of Roark. "People are saying that Valenti's escaped!"

"Valenti?" Roark replied. "As in, that necromancer bastard? Isn't his prison supposed to inescapable?"

"Aye, but it would seem that he found a way out, anyway. There is a call going out for brave souls to respond to the possibility of this threat. Judging by your gear, I'd assumed that you were on your way to the capital to respond to the call."

"This is the first I've heard of this particular rumor! I was planning on visiting your capitol anyway, so I may as well look into it while I'm there," Roark replied, then quickly downed his ale. Handing the barkeep a few coins to cover his drink, he thanked him for the news and drink, then left immediately to find faster transport to the human capital.

---

Climbing down from the cart, he thanked the driver for saving him a couple of days' transport, Roark found himself near a market square. A quick look at the bulletin board showed an announcement calling for people to help investigate an incident at Heaven's Needle, along with information regarding what prospective recruits should do. Following the instructions on the announcement, he showed up at the castle courtyard to find out a bit more about the situation.

The blast of trumpets in the near distance broke her from her fixation. King Adre would soon make his appearance. Adjusting her small leather backpack she started to move more swiftly. The crowded city streets were quite intimidating but she had no time to dawdle. The crowd grew denser as people, mostly commonfolk with a few armoured figures among them, funneled into the main castle courtyard. The citizens would encircle the perimeter whereas the central stone path to the main castle lay unoccupied save for a few heavily armoured men, clearly dressed for battle.

It would be a moment before Robin realized where the current was taking her. She needed to get in the center. Ducking and weaving she fought her way through the crowed. It would be one of the few times her short stature came in handy. It would only take a few 'Sorrys,' and 'Excuse mes' till she emerged in the center, spat out of the crowd like broccoli from a toddler. One more apology would be in order. Upon expulsion he bumped into what could've just as easily been a stone wall.

“Ow, sorry!” she said as she looked up. It was a man. A huge man. The smell of beer was overpowering, mixed maybe with a night or two without hygiene, she didn't dare guess. His beard was big and bushy and sat proudly on his armoured chest. It sat just at her eye level. This man was giant to be sure. It made her wonder if he even felt her bump into him. She straightened up and stood beside thinking it better not to look at him. She has encountered wild bears less intimidating than what she now stood beside.

- - - - - -

The trumpets blasted and the King emerged.

She too turned her gaze upward towards the balcony where the King was emerging, keeping her eyes away from the giant that she stood beside. The crowed cheered.

The King had certainly aged since she had last laid eyes on him. His brown hair, once long and bold, was now grayed. His beard now salted with age, and the skin of his face weighed down with all the burdens of Ithelas. On his chest his Majesty wore his golden breastplate, embrazened with the crest of the royal family. A gold-lined red cape lay over his laden shoulders. Raising his hands high he called for silence.

“Good citizens of Ithelas. We have all been effected by the Great War of a decade past, friends and family were lost. Homes destroyed. The Necromancer known as Levius Valenti has impacted us all with his quest for power.”

The King took a long pause. All was silent, noone spoke, no bird sang.

“Levius has been locked away in the magical prison of Heaven's Needle, a prison made under the supervision of the late Archmage Amicus. Where he was to remain drained off his power until the day death sought him. However, Heaven's Needle was infiltrated by someone unknown who possesses great power. Levius was freed.”

Another pause.

“Everyone here knows the damage he is capable of. So here I say this to every citizen under my crown. Arm yourselves. There will be war... However,” his tone changed to one slightly more encouraging, “These brave champions that stand before us today have pledged to take on the challenge of stopping Levius and his unknown partner.”

His Majesty looked down at the few men and women that stood center and managed to force a small grin.

“Know this champions. You will have any provision you require from my stores for your investigation. The crown, and all the citizens that surround you will be depending on your efforts. Should you succeed, your rewards will be limitless, to fail is to fail us all.”

With that the King turned and returned to the seclusion of his castle.

“No pressure,” Robin said softly to herself.

A decorated solider approached the group beckoning them to follow, “This way to claim your provisions.” He lead the group inside a large heavily guarded stone room, an armoury.

“One-hundred silver for each of you, and anything you need that you can carry.”

By the time Roark got to the castle's courtyard, it was surrounded by a thronging mass of people. After a couple of failed attempts to politely push his way through to reach the courtyard proper, he sighed before simply wading through the crowd, ignoring the indignant cries as people got pushed out of his way, most of which quickly quieted when the saw the stocky dwarf who was responsible for their disturbance. Admittedly, there were even odds as to whether they were silenced primarily by his stout stature, his somewhat rough demeanor, or the large shield and well-crafted war hammer latched to his bizarre metal rucksack.
Breaking out of the mass of spectators, Roark finally made it to the main area of the courtyard, populated with a much thinner crowd, just in time to see the king emerge, accompanied by a fanfare of trumpets. Joining in with the edge of the crowd, he found himself next to a rather nervous-looking human girl, who seemed to be fastidiously not looking at the very large man (who appeared to be just a bit shy of twice Roark's height). Settling in, he listened up to what the king had to say, silently absorbing the information as it came.

The sovereign's words replayed in her mind as the group was lead to the interior of the castle armory. As they passed the threshold she couldn't be sure if it was the surrounding air, or the King's words that forced a chill down her spine.

Everyone started grabbing anything that tickled their fancy. Large beasts of men, including the behemoth she bumped into previously, grabbed the finest but surely some of the heaviest weaponry she has ever seen, maces, claymores, and warhammers the size of her head were the popular flavour. There was nothing in this room of her size to be sure. Instinctively she reached and touched the old small sword on her side. The sword was old, quite old, hell, as old as she could remember, but it was her own. She withdrew it and rested it in both hands. It was pathetically small compared to the others in the room, but it was hers. Seeing no advantage to a heavier weapon she doubted she could even pick up, let alone swing, she walked back out of the crowded armory and into the yard, as she replaced the weapon to hits sheath.

Outside, she took in the air as well as the others that had volunteered, or in her case “volun-told”, their services. There were people of all shapes and sizes, some gigantic and muscular, others thin and more athletic in appearance, she even spied a dwarf among the crowed. That was truly unexpected. The dwarves mostly kept to themselves nowadays, although their influence occasionally showed up. Despite her travels in scholarly expeditions she had never actually met one.

The thought was fleeting as she looked over the group once more. She'd need allies if she had any hope of actually surviving this ordeal, let alone accomplishing what they were setting out to do. Many were already starting to form groups. She scanned them with her analytical gaze piecing together the best combination in her mind.

With the announcement of free gear, nearly everyone in the crowd swarmed to the armory, trying to get their hands on the best gear before it was all taken. Taking pride in the fact that he had either made or earned every piece of equipment he had, Roark simply walked up to one of the castle guards.
"I'm assuming that we'll be allowed to claim some travel rations from the castle kitchens some time between now and when we set out?" he asked of the guard.
"Aye," the young man said, "you'll be given access to the larders shortly before your departure."
"Good, my boy. That'll be all," Roark replied with a grin before returning to approximately where he'd been standing during the king's brief speech.

As he waited, he decided to test the calibration of his gear, using the fingers of his right hand to flip open a small latch that was covering a set of minute resonance stone fragments in the palm of his right gauntlet. Pressing a quick sequence of different combinations of the stones triggered several mechanical commands via the other fragments of the same stone embedded in the machinery of his rucksack.
First, his shield sprang out far enough to his left for him to grab, allowing him access to the fragments (and non-resonance buttons) on its main handle. Second, he pressed one of the buttons on the shield, causing a spike to protrude from the bottom, which he then stuck into the packed dirt of the courtyard directly in front of him, allowing his shield to stand on its own. Next, while a heavy repeater came forth on a mechanical arm, stopping just above, and slightly forward from, his right shoulder, he grabbed his shield's central handle, which he then rotated, causing one slot on each side of his shield to open. Clicking his right crossbow into place in his shield, he also triggered a repeater to come out on his left side, which then went into the corresponding slot on the left side of his shield. After testing the pivot of the spike, and checking the calibration of the clear crystal view port directly above the central handle, he gave a satisfied grunt, then began triggering the recall commands (ejecting the repeaters from the shield, which were then pulled back to their starting points by their respective mechanical arms, then reattaching the shield to it's arm, which drew it back into its place within the rucksack.

Finished with the test of his ranged equipment, Roark finally began paying attention to the people around him starting to return from the armory, having made their selections. Interestingly enough, it looked like the timid girl who he'd stood next to had been back for a while, carrying nothing more than that with which she had started. Seeing that people were already starting to group up, he debated who seemed like someone worth working with. After a brief deliberation, he decided that, since he knew nothing of anyone here, and most everyone had seen his equipment test, he may as well wait a moment to see if anyone approached him about teaming up before he would go to anyone else himself.

Her eyes fell upon a single dwarf among the crowd. He seemed to be checking up on his equipment. She couldn't help but watch. She could hardly describe the level of mechanical knowledge that it must have taken to craft such items. She watched in amazement as he operated his shield, and then a crossbow, and then a repeater with mechanical arms of sorts. Robyn wasn't often fascinated by such things but dwarven technology was always something that proved fascinating. She caught herself staring and quickly turned away before glancing back to the rest of the crowd. They had nothing of the sorts, only muscles and egos.

With a sigh she turned back to the dwarf and slowly approached. She was never good in such situations, but it had to be done.

“Excuse me Sir Dwarf,” she said with a small polite bow, “I couldn't help but notice your equipment. Did you make that yourself?”

She looked down at the man, who honestly wasn't much shorter than her. He seemed to be everything one would expect a dwarf to be, at least what she had read from her books that is, save for the slight added aroma of beer. She didn't remember reading that part.

“I find myself in need of a warrior of your caliber,” she said maintaining her polite tone as if she was still within the walls of the college, “would it bother you if I joined you for this endeavor?”

After a brief moment of standing around, Roark noticed the rather timid girl approach. Upon her commenting on his gear, he broke into a large grin as he answered her question with a hint of pride.
"Aye, that I did! Some of the fancier components came courtesy of close instruction by my teacher, but every last piece of machinery I carry is something I crafted! By your speech, I'd place you as an academic of some sort, which suggests, in the context of such a dangerous job, that you'd likely be some form of arcanist, which would be all the reason I'd need to be glad to have you on my side in a conflict!"
After a short pause, he added: "Oh, and if we're going to be teaming up, there'll be no more of that "Sir Dwarf" nonsense!" cracking a grin. "M'name's Roark Ironfist," he added, extending his hand in greeting.

Luna had stood in the rear of the room as the King spoke, listening carefully. While the draining of the necromancer's powers would certainly mark him as less of a threat than he was originally she knew better than to think that any magic user without use of their powers faced more than a temporary set back. From her own experiences with magic and sparring with fellow Talian warriors they often went on the offensive when they thought she was running out of steam. What troubled her more was someone infiltrating a prison that was probably more difficult to breach than this castle. Perhaps the infiltrator was not alone in the task, or perhaps just very well armed and supported. Either way, this task would be serious if the King felt the need to summon this many individuals.

Her garb was a simple white cloak over a white linen tunic that was cut into a v-neck fashion. Holes were punched on either side of the neck line of the tunic with leather laces to bring the v-neck together in a straight line. Her pants were a hardened leather of dark brown, well worn. The bandits had given them to her and they had more than proved their worth. It was far from her preferred garb that she would change into when she had a chance. Her boots went up to her calves and matched the pants, both in durability and color. Her belt held various trinkets including her favored weapons, a pair of scimitars and metal rings containing four points. The metal rings were balanced for throwing or using in melee combat. She also had a leather roll with lock picks of various sorts and a skeleton key for standard fare locks. Attached to the belt was a satchel with an eyepatch, medicinal herbs, and a flask of oil. Among the other satchels were various goods such as strings, ten metal rings with claws to fit over her fingers, a sewing needle, and thread.

The King had mentioned an armory and to help themselves. She grinned as she followed the crowd to the room, glancing around the chamber. This job would most likely involve enemies knowing they were coming so being quiet wasn't always going to be a concern. She approached a weapon rack containing several weighed maces. She tested half a dozen before finding one she liked. It was made of fine steel, balanced perfectly and polished to a shine. It looked as if it had never been used. She twisted some leather cord and slid the mace into it, then tugged it.

She glanced around the room and looked at the groups now. Most of them were filled with larger men. They would probably underestimate her. This region perhaps was not as familiar with Talian warriors as most and that came with explaining a few things. She spotted what looked to be a magic user along with a Dwarf. She approached the pair and removed her mask. "Greetings. I am Luna, the Night Touched. A pleasure to meet you."

"Aye, that I did! Some of the fancier components came courtesy of close instruction by my teacher, but every last piece of machinery I carry is something I crafted! By your speech, I'd place you as an academic of some sort, which suggests, in the context of such a dangerous job, that you'd likely be some form of arcanist, which would be all the reason I'd need to be glad to have you on my side in a conflict!"

A small smile came across her lips as he correctly made his assumptions. His handywork was most impressive, with a wit to match. The dwarf soon spoke again and extended his hand.

"Oh, and if we're going to be teaming up, there'll be no more of that "Sir Dwarf" nonsense!" cracking a grin. "M'name's Roark Ironfist,"

She nodded and extended her hand out to meet his. His grip was strong and his hands callused compared to her much softer hands untouched by manual labor. “Robyn Voss. Pleasure to meet you, and glad to have you at my side. With your help and some luck we might just be able to pull this off.” She said hopefully.

It was about that time her eye would fall upon a another woman, slightly taller than herself, approaching. Her garb was a simple, but beautiful, white linen tunic and cloak. It matched her snow white hair.

"Greetings. I am Luna, the Night Touched. A pleasure to meet you."

Robyn looked her over as she spoke, she noticed she wasn't quite human, but possibly one of the Talian she had read about. She had never seen or met one in person before, only reading of them in one of her many texts. Unfortunately her understanding ended there.

Wanting not to appear rude she extended her hand towards the newcomer, “Robyn Voss of the College, and this is my new acquaintance, Master Ironfist.'

In response to Robin's remarks, Roark said "I was raised to believe that we each make our own luck, so I don't think that we should have any problem in that regard." A slightly mischievous grin resurfacing, he continued, saying "Besides, I've gotten in the habit of carrying some extra luck around with me, anyway." To emphasize his point, he gestured at his gear, as if implying that that should provide ample "luck" for their purposes.

He soon noticed a relatively tall, pale woman approaching them with a graceful stride. Her appearance reminded him of a tribe of hunters that lived in the forest near the base of his clan's mountain, who were seldom seen, almost never heard unless they wanted to be, and, reportedly, very skilled hunters. When she came up and introduced herself, he chuckled slightly at the apparent quality and diversity of the group that seemed to be gathering around him, while the academist, Robin, started introductions for the both of them. After she had finished, he expanded on her introduction of him, reaching out to offer his hand in a shake.
"Roark Ironfist, of the Greymountain Military Corps of Engineers, at your service. Would it be safe to assume that you are also looking for a group worth forming for this particular escapade?"

"Indeed", she replied looking between the two, taking careful note of their names. "Greymountain. I know of this place. Hearty warriors,yes?" She sized both of them up. The dwarf certainly looked able to hold his own and spoke a little informally. Her culture didn't do that, but she found it better to mimic the culture of others in order to keep them comfortable. "I look forward to a successful expedition. I shall bring some extra liquor while we share tales of battle."

She glanced at the other groups already settling in. "If we are to battle together it would be best I tell you of myself. I am a Cleric of the Nature Goddess. As her servant I use healing and elemental magic, but will not take more than I need of nature in my travels. I am also masterful in the use of Starknives and Scimitars", she purred in her eastern (think Italian) accent. She held up a knife and scimitar in each hand respectively, drawing them from places within her baggy cloak."In my unit in my tribe I served as a leader among the scouting group, providing both magical and physical support. Many of these humans wear heavier armor than most of my tribes' people save for our shield bearers. Mighty warriors of hammer and shield. From them I learned the use of the mace in ways training did not provide."

She realized she had been perhaps rambling about herself, though it was customary for Talians to discuss their capabilities when forming a new unit to decide the best strategy and pairings, especially with each warrior choosing their own weapons of choice. Although many of the warriors were proficient in most types of weaponry, the mastery training was an important thing that defined the individual and was one of the first tattoos that they would receive as a warrior. Her personal tattoo was Starknife and within a crossed Staff and Scimitar, symbolizing her choice to master three weapons as opposed to one.

Levius freed? That was almost bordering on ridiculous. Who would design an impenetrable prison meant to last until the prisoner's death, yet somehow make it so that you could break in. Well, this trip was going to last longer than expected. "Thilnot," he whispered, the arcane word sending a shiver down his spine. An angular glyph flared into existence, replacing itself with a miniaturized form of a one winged Ta'maxan. "Dar, you need to come to the castle, fast!" She nodded, and he let the spell fall back into threads of magic and walked into the armoury, not really expecting anything he'd be interested in, but he supposed that Darïdre could use a pair of matched daggers; she seemed to have some skill, especially with a pair, when it came to short blades. Standing on his toes, he swore. Why were the people in this land so much taller than in Gylon? Something still managed to catch his eye, though. Pushing through the throng, he found his way to what he saw: Two daggers, the blades made of a black metal that seemed to both reflect light and stay at an unchanging shade, and carved with intricate golden runes and designs. He picked the two up and waited. Darïdre would be a bit, and he needed to sit down.

"I was raised to believe that we each make our own luck, so I don't think that we should have any problem in that regard. Besides, I've gotten in the habit of carrying some extra luck around with me, anyway.”

She couldn't help but crack a small grin. His confidence was quite welcome and perhaps even charming, in a dwarven sort of way that is.

- - - -

"Roark Ironfist, of the Greymountain Military Corps of Engineers, at your service. Would it be safe to assume that you are also looking for a group worth forming for this particular escapade?"

"Indeed."

Robyn listened as the woman spoke. She spoke much about her people and tribe, although even Robyn couldn't place her origins with the clues provided. It didn't matter though if she was willing to help, who cared where she came from. Levius was and is a common enemy to all.

“A pleasure, Miss Luna. Glad to have you aboard. We'll need all the help we can muster, no matter how much luck Mr GreyMountain can carry,” she said glancing back to him with a small smile.

"I like your style, Luna!" Roark guffawed. "An offer of drinks and war stories, then cut right to the chase in saying what you can do!"
"Well, I'd say that this is off to a promising start," Roark said, returning Robin's grin. "If nothing else, we've already got a decent variety in our group! We've got a healer, an arcanist, and an engineer, all from very different walks of life, so we should have plenty of options when it comes to making it past any obstacles that come up! I think I'm starting to look forward to this particular expedition!"

Luna smiled and adjusted her cloak, pushing the hood back to reveal her face a little better. The weather was rather pleasant today, she thought to herself as she took her cloak off and rolled it up stuffing it into her pack. She was a little curvy, showing through the loose fitting travel clothes, but mostly her tattoos would be left exposed. It didn't seem as if it would matter in the company of adventurers, but perhaps civilians and nobles, unaccustomed to such things. She nodded happily. "I do believe we shall get along nicely", she purred, taking another glance around the room.

"I do hope we shall be on the road soon", she spoke politely. "I am eager to get back out into nature again." She liked the city just fine, but her true preference lied in the quiet serenity of being under the stars. Humans and the like did not have night vision as she did and make preferred where they could see it would seem, but she felt right at home regardless. "Perhaps another body or two might help us. It would allow us to not become fatigued from having to take watch every night and split travel duties up."

Seeing Darïdre walk, panting, into the courtyard, Mikhael called out from where he was sitting. Hearing that, she glanced around for a few seconds until finding him, and wove through the crowd to reach him. Handing her the blades, Mikhael told her, "Levius was somehow freed. Offering a reward and the like. He has a friend, though. That group has been glancing at me recently. Gonna go talk to them." He walked over and cleared his throat. "Mikhael. Darïdre," he said indicating himself and Dar. "You look like you want us, so do you?"

Seeing a pair of figures approach, Roark turned his attention to them when they drew near and spoke. In reply to the one who spoke, he said "Well, I certainly wouldn't object to having a few extra hands on board! In briefest summary, we already consist of a healer, an academic arcanist, and an alchemical engineer with a fair bit of soldiering experience," he added, indicating Luna, Robin, and then himself, respectively. "How about you two?"

The dwarf spoke rather excitedly about the various walks of life that composed their small group. In truth, Robyn herself couldn't help but agree. The variety would greatly come in handy no doubt with what surely lay ahead.

"I do hope we shall be on the road soon,” Luna would say.

Robyn too agreed, “Yes, we should get moving. There is much to do and investigate.”

"Perhaps another body or two might help us. It would allow us to not become fatigued from having to take watch every night and split travel duties up."

As if rehearsed, two more approached the small collective. Roark was first to greet the two and offered a quite brief, albeit accurate, rundown of them all thus far.

Robyn chimed in, “Always good to have more aboard.”

"Gæa mage; she's a Demon if you can give her the right weapons," Mikhael responded, then added, "Not literally." He didn't know why he felt the need to add that. It would normally be assumed. "Are we leaving soon?" He said, straightening his cloak.