My children.
The darkness will come sweeping upon our land very soon.
It has been foretold since the days the false ones (Thayne) walked the mortal planes.
Wearing the guise of the Hedge Magi, the Traveller (Archanex Jotham) will come.
His people are not of our land, they herald from the stars in giant star chariots and they are a plague.
They must be stopped.
Be ready my brothers and sisters.
For the hour is upon is.
And the sun will soon set...
"No!" Archanex yelled. He was in his bed. The city was Scara Brae, a Tuesday, and the hour was late. Archanex checked the time device next to him that the hedge magi used and he saw that it was roughly three thirty in the morning. Looking at the window, Archanex saw it was still dark outside. It would be too dangerous by himself to travel the streets of Scara Brae by night. His heart was racing as he sat up in bed, an intense feeling of nervousness gripped his heart. Of late, Archanex's dreams were troubling him. He'd write them down in his grimoire, but that did not help matters. He discussed things with his superiors of the Hedge Magi, but that didn't help either. The voices in his head were becoming more severe, and figures in the dark, shadows, taunted the Overmage. Something was coming Jotham knew. What the hell is wrong with me of late? I'm hearing voices in my head. Archanex, slid out of his bed and walked naked towards the window. He opened it to allow the breeze into the room and attempt to cool him off.
Sweat glistened across his flesh and was augmented by the shining moonlight. He looked up as the the sliver of a crescent moon shone brightly down at him, almost as if it was winking. Archanex was having trouble sleeping for the past two or three weeks. He'd lost track of the situation since he first developed his case of insomnia. His heart was racing rapidly and he was doing simple breathing techniques to relax his body. Archanex joined the Hedge Magi many years ago and was working through his internship with them. It was a study-filled life, and Archanex was learning how to control his power. As he stood staring at the moon, he rose his hand and controlled, through the elemental manna, the flames that burned hotly in his soul. Opening his hand, a small and potent flame burst into being. He looked at his creation, a harbinger of death, and smiled at it softly. For a moment, he swore he could almost see his reflection in the fire. "Calm down Archanex. They haven't come true yet." He said to nobody in particular and turned towards his bed. It was empty. Archanex, the fiery Overmage, had not shared his bed with anyone of late. He was too busy to allow anyone into his personal affairs.
Running his hand through his long red hair, the gentleman carefully put the fire in his hand out. He willed it out of being. Though Archanex was no master yet, he was well on his way. Turning away from the window, he closed it. Having helped at least partially, the breeze cooled down his hot body. Furthermore, it chilled the temperature in the master bedroom subtly. Archanex was an impressive man for a Magus. By no means was he a stereotypically scrawny wizard. No. He was chiseled in the same way a warrior would be. The high physical endurance was necessary for an Overmage to channel the elemental manna. In the dark, Archanex's eyes shown in a steel grey fashion, though they were usually brown. The elevated colour was due to the tension he felt. He stood at an impressive height of six feet and weighed about two hundred and ten pounds. Walking towards a table, he sat down upon a chair. Leaning one of his elbows against the surface of the table, he placed his hand against the arch of his forehead. His head hurt, there was no doubt about it. Lack of sleep was making him unusually anxious.
Archanex's grimoire, that is, journal, was placed atop the table. He had a container filled with fresh ink nearby with a fountain pen ready. Like most magus, Archanex was literate and had a high vocabulary. So, hoping to write his anxieties on the pages of his book, he got to work. Archanex closed his eyes. Even as he wrote without having to look at the pages, Archanex could see the images in his dream again. They were haunting him. The shadowy forms. Somehow, in his dread, Archanex knew what the small shadows were. With that dread, he somehow knew that he would have to face the nightmare creatures soon. Archanex wrote well into the morning hours, and was up with the rise of the sun...but the sun's rays brought no comfort for the Overmage.