In the dark of night. (Lorenor/Teric)

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Note: I am not exactly sure what the Assembly is actually like as these are Letho's characters so I am winging and interpreting them at will for my own purposes)

Thursday, March 13th
C.P. 1809
10:00 P.M. Standard Althanas Time.

These days, Emien Harthworth, Corone's Master General, was a busy man indeed. With the birth of the Corone Empire, the assembly now had full control of Corone proper. Mobilizing its army in full force was a feat that required great military knowledge. It was as such the position that Emien currently found himself in. Emien, a proud man, came from a poor background and rose to power quickly in the government. He gathered influence with political espionage and other dirty schemes paying off all who stood in his way. He came across a lot of gold during the recent tournaments gambling and investing in the events. It was said that Emien had an eye for opportunity. And just then, that eye was focused on a series of maps of Corone. Salvar. Alerar. Raiaera. Most of the known world was placed in various orders on the liviol desk that he rested his elbows upon. His eyes were completely focused on the maps. There were red circles drawn around various locations on each of the maps, crucial strategic points of interest.

A rather solitary chamber, there was lighting from a fireplace that kept the room warm. A single symbol was etched at the top of the fireplace that seemed to increased the warmth of the burning blaze. In general, the temperature of the room was roughly around fifty to sixty degrees. The ambiance created a certain deceiving warmth to the chamber. Dancing about, the shadows in the room seemed to move about their own volition caught in the rapture of a mambo. Hugging one of the walls was a bookcase with a well stocked collection of books and scrolls. These works were gathered from various parts of Althanas. The desk was positioned in the center of the room a few feet away from the only window in it. Currently, the dark satin curtains were closed to allow no natural lighting in the room. Emien was a well built lad that stood at roughly five feet eleven inches. He had blond, tightly cropped hair that was faded on the sides and short on the top. It was kept meticulously well trimmed. Upon his person, he wore a simple outfit that bellied his true position of power in the government.

His tunic was made of simple linen and colored a brown earth tone. It had long sleeves that covered his arms completely. No pockets were visible on the shirt and the buttons at the top of it were kept loose. The shirt had a simple collar that was kept in an -m- position at all times. Matching his shirt, his pants were kept somewhat loose and made of the same linen material as his shirt. Buttons were made of a simple material and kept in their position all the way to the third button from the top. Overall, the ensemble was a simple one that did its purpose. The outfit was meant to deceive and purposefully give off the false image that Emien was much weaker than what he really was. Emien wore boots that were made of the hide of Coronian Hash'Fien Oxen. Well worn, the boots seemed to be in constant usage of recent times. A single bed decorated the chamber at the position of one of its sides. Sporting a canopy, the bed had black curtains that were closed and draped all the way down to the floor.

Functioning as a dual-war room and bed room, the chamber had its purposes. There was a distinct smell of stock weed in the chamber as well, it was clear that the man liked to smoke hemp. Emien worked on the documents scanning with his deep brown eyes. He had a well structured nose and nostrils that could flare out healthily. His brow had the traditional look of the Coronian Highlanders. His cheekbone was built the same, as well as his chin. There was a mixture of native Radasanthian heritage in that face as well. Overall, the man was pleasing to look at. He had a well trimmed goatee on his chin that was the same color as his blond hair. Currently, the man wore glasses to better study the documents on his desk. He yawned and took a stretch. Located in a goblet on the desk was a healthy portion of Coronian Coffee heralding from Jadet. The coffee beans were native to Corone and had a rich texture to them. Steam flowing from the goblet added a unique texture and scent to the room that complemented the scent of the hemp in it.

A smoking pipe was also present on the table. Originating from the pipe, the smell of stock weed was the prevalent scent in the room. More than any other scent. Currently, a wisp of smoke flowed from the pipe but the embers were long burnt out. To get the rich flavor of the hemp out once more, Emien would have had to relight it once again. After the quick stretch, he realized what time it was. A functioning clock imported from Alerar ticked away across eternity. Its face had numbers written in the common tongue. And the hands were positioned thrice for hour, second, minute. Positioned in the nine o'clock hour, the seconds were rolling by. There was simply too much to do, and not enough time in one day or even one lifetime to do it. Such was the flaw of humanity. "He's late." A hint of aggravation was in his tone. He was the type of man that rarely showed such an emotion. His military background was visible as various decorations and awards around the room. A knock on the door occurred roughly ten minutes later.

Emien took a sniff at the air. "Great he's here." He took a pull of the still-warm coffee and swallowed. Afterward, he slowly slowly got up and walked across the chamber towards the closed double-door. It was a red cherry colored door. He grabbed the doorknob and opened the door slowly. "You're late." Emien said with a hint of harshness in his voice. He stared at the other man dressed in full battle attire. It was clear that the man had just come from the battle right to Emien's keep. "Lord Orlezac Shanai. It is unlike you to be late. Especially for just such an occasion. There are matters to discuss." Emien said calmly and turned to walk towards the desk where the maps were. As Emien turned there was a sudden movement from Shanai and the man revealed a Prevalida longsword that moved quickly towards the back of Emien's neck. Orlezac stood in combat position. He was a man that stood at roughly six feet and five inches, had a massive build, and had long red hair. He clearly originated from the Highlands of Corone. The man had a cleanly trimmed red beard, and also had brown eyes.

"Since when does a bureaucrat presume to give the leader of the Knights of Dawn orders?" Orlezac said calmly. Symbols of the Lord Draconus were etched over his fine prevalida armor, it was blue. The entire ensamble had a cloak that was made of fine vlince flowing from the shoulders. Orlezac stood in combat position as he waited. Emien remained unphased by the potential act of treason. "Do you not realize where you are old friend? I could have an entire legion breathing down your throat at a moment notice." Orlezac wore an amused expression on his face. "You've been too busy pushing schemes past these crooked politicians old man. I have you right where I want you Emien Harthworth." Then suddenly something happened. Both of the men broke into a deep laughter. Orlezac quickly sheathed his weapon and embraced his long-time friend. "It has been too long. Far too long Emien." Emien nodded in agreement. "I know. We both have been very recent. What of the Gisella Report?" Emien suddenly asked getting right to business.

He walked over to the desk, pulled up a spare goblet and poured Orelezac some coffee. "I have it in my packs. Here. The law of protection is to be amended to Corone's books. The operation was a success. All involved were wiped out and the Civil War is on going." He handed Emien a series of documents wrapped in a folder. The parchment was very fine and the ledgers were neatly organized. "Do we have the names of the victims and their families?" Orlezac nodded. "They are provided in the files. What do we do with the families?" Emien had a far away look as Orlezac said that part. "Nothing. We compensate them one hundred gold a piece per house hold. Return it to them from the taxes they pay." Orlezac looked at Emien strangely for a moment but nodded simply afterward. "Very well. It shall be done." Orlezac said. "You have new orders." Emien responded calmly and remained by the desk. "I want you to mobilize a unit of your best men. We have a new problem in the slum districts of Radasanth. Left unchecked this problem could result in a revolution of unmatched proportion."

"What would you ask Emien?" Orlezac responded. "I want you to tend to this matter personally." Emien said casually. He walked over to a set of files on his table and pulled them off, handing them over to Orlezac's possession. A particular file caught Orlezac's interest. "That bastard Salvarn Lord?!" Emien blinked in surprise. "You know of Lorenor V'halkulus?" Anger was apparent on Orlezac's face. "That fucking bastard! We've had him in our possession numerous times already he escapes every time because of the jurisdictional nonsense between Corone and the Dajas Pagoda. We have to send him to execution next time." Orlezac said. Emien shook his head. "You are aware of his regenerative powers? The Order of Ai'Bron has been keeping a close eye on his activities for various reasons. So has the Cult of Draconus and the Cult of Y'Edda. The file is all there, use it. You want my advice? Hire an assassin." Orlezac looked at Emien as if he had just said something insane. "I am a ranking officer in the Cult of Draconus, have you completely forgotten that? Anyway I will look into the matters. These are the known members of the Cult of the Nameless One?"

"Indeed. They are to be taken care of as soon as possible." Emien said calmly. "We cannot have the truth revealed."

"Agreed. Very well then I shall gather a special unit."

****
11:45 P.M. Standard Althanas Time.

Radasanth by night. In one of the many courtyard squares located in the bazaar district of Radasanth, something was going on. Something big. A large crowd of people had gathered and were listening to the words of revolution uttered by a certain man. The man's name was Igowewa Reupcol. He had long flowing brown hair, darker brown skintone, deep brown eyes, a thick pair of eyebrows, and no facial hair. His facial structure suggested that he originated from the great southern lands of Keribas. The man stood at roughly five feet and eight inches. He was standing on some wooden crates that made him appear much taller than what he really was. In his hand, was an orb-like object that glowed with a mysterious power. This object made Igowewa's voice much louder than normal so that the entire crowd could hear him. Some fifty people were gathered and were getting riled up by the moving words that the man spoke. It was clear that he was a political activist of some sort. Around him were several individuals dressed in black robes. Their heads were completely covered by the hoods they wore.

An escort of sorts, the dark men served as body guards. Gathered across the streets was a small contingent of men in armor. They had full riot gear with them. Some of the men had tower shields. These men were members of the Knights of Dawn and were cataloging the crowd very carefully in case lethal force became necessary. Speaking loudly, the man was clearly denouncing the current structure of the Empire in Corone. "The assassination of the Steward of Corone! The rise to power of the rest of the Assembly! Remember Gisella! Remember Gisella! The Knights are bastards who would use blades against the people! There is only one true salvation, and she walks amongst us now! The lady N'Jal! Our group is currentlly seeking converts to join us and practice our ways! We have a new leader now! And we're becoming a force that could rival the New World Order in power! Come one, come all! We need help to usher in the new era of Corone's rebirth! Radasanth needs heroes once more!" The gathered crowd cheered at the man's moving speech. Many people began to chant, "Remember Gisella!"

And at that moment, the Knights began to draw swords. Several of the gathered civilians looked in the direction of the knights. Some began to throw stones at them. "These bastards aim to strike at us again!" Another man cried. "Haven't you shed enough blood?" Another man simply looked at the knights with fear. "Oh. I think I left something cooking at home!" Someone had a tomato and threw it at the face at one of the Knights. "Friends! The threat is obvious. The Empire fears our power! Let us change the world together! Let us make a new history! One without the corrupt ire of the Empire!" And listening to all this was a single man. A single man that stood on the roof of a squat, five story building located nearby. He had two men standing by him. One stood at a massive height of nine feet, and the other stood at a height of about five feet five inches. The man who was observing stood at a measely five feet in height. The tallest of the three men walked over towards the shortest of the group. "My lord. We are in position."

The smallest of the three men looked around and could see the signals being given on the various rooftops. Due to the nature of the crowd below, the Knights of Dawn potentially missed the signals all together. "Are you sure this is wise?" The small man was asked. He had his arms folded across his chest and was clearly thinking deeply at the moment. "When a target becomes too difficult to locate in its home territory. Lure him out to a new battlefield. This siege with the Knights of Dawn has gone on long enough. It's high time we send them a clear message." Nodding, the tallest of the three men drew an impressive looking sword. "I merely await your command." The small man turned to look at his companions. "We shalt not act quite yet. I want to lure any potential mercenaries to our position so they can be dealt with. This is a trap. I want it to be organized as fluidly as possible. There can be no mistakes. Doth ye understand?" The small man spoke in a strange, deep accent. Both of the two gathered men seemed to be in agreement with the shorter man who was clearly the leader of the three.

Dressed in fine hide material, the short man looked more like a nobleman than a warrior. Though looks were never to be judged on face value. "To thy positions men." A vlince cloak flapped in the breeze. Symbols of something called the Red Hand were visible on that finely structured cloak. The man wore simple hides that originated from the tailorship of Salvar. He drew a single weapon from his potent arsenal that was constructed of masterwork prevalida material. It carried a cold edge to the blade and made the temperature drop a few degrees. Cold elemental energy flowed from the blade. The small man looked towards the positioin of the Knights of Dawn. His mind was formulating strategies. He felt the familiar grip of his sword of his favored weapon. He pulled a prevalida dagger from its sheathe, it was also masterwork in quality. However, this particular weapon had no such aura wrapped around its molecular structure. After many months of imprisonment and torture at the hands of the Knights of Dawn, the small man had finally gathered the resources necessary for his vengeance.

It was time for revenge.

It was time for the Knights of Dawn to once again fear the creatures of the night.

[Bloodrose]

Friday, March 14th
C.P. 1809
12:35 AM SAT

"He is the best I could find on such short notice, mi'Lord. You've only given us a few hours."

"A few hours is all the time I'm allowed. The situation is far too dire, and not wont to wait for us to find the perfect solution."

The two other men in the room were conversing in hushed tones by the door; their heads leaned in close to one another as they spoke. From their body language and volume alone it was simple to deduce that they didn't want the black clad mercenary helping himself to a decanter of distilled liquor listening in on their conversation. Had that been the case, however, Teric would have advised them to stand outside and close the office door behind them. The room was far too small and intimate to allow for a private conversation free of the prying ears of anyone inside.

"He will have to do. Where did you find him? What do we know about him?"

"We found him at a local inn, the Starlight, mi'Lord. Our contacts within the various mercenary guilds say he can be found there often. Apparently he's a freelance sellsword, no association with any of the guilds, and despite that comes highly recommended."

"Hmm, that's odd." The larger of the two men, a Highlander dressed in the trappings of nobility, whispered. "Why should the guilds speak kindly of a freelance man, rather than advertise one of their members? They make no commission off outsiders."

"Perhaps they think this is a suicide mission?" The smaller man, a corporal (assuming the indicators of rank within the Knights of Dawn were the same as general Coronian military) offered. "The guild stands only to gain if one of their competitors is killed."

"True, and..." The Highlander turned to cast an interested glance at Teric, and found the mercenary standing only a few feet away with a small glass of liquor held to his lips. The close proximity of the older man took both the Highlander and corporal by surprise, both men starting slightly.

"...And if I'm bad enough for the guilds' business for them to want me dead, then I must be very good at what I do." Teric picked up the thought and vocalized it for the men, sipping at his drink appreciatively when he was done speaking. The corporal still seemed surprised, but the look forming on the Highlander's face was one Teric could only describe as "annoyed".

"Lord Orlezac Shanai." The Highlander introduced himself formally, waving the corporal out of the room before offering his hand to Teric in greeting. As the third man left, mercenary and Knight of Dawn commander shook hands formally, each man consciously squeezing the hand of the other in a test of strength. Teric couldn't resist a smug smile as he won that duel easily, forcing a slight wince out of Shanai.

"Teric Bloodrose."

"I assume you overheard most of our conversation?" Orlezac less asked and more noted as he moved around a large redwood desk, one of the only pieces of furniture in the room, to site behind it. He indicated the chair opposite the desk from him, and Teric accepted the seat wordlessly.

"Most of it, yes." Teric replied once he was seated. The plush velvet cushions of the chair felt nice against his back as he reclined as far as the chair would allow. Watching the Knight opposite him, the mercenary caught the commander glancing at his decanter, that annoyed expression on his face only deepening. "I was especially interested by the part about this meeting concerning some sort of 'suicide mission'?"

"An exaggeration, I assure you." Orlezac settled back in his own chair. "There is some danger involved, absolutely, but I don't think the problem I need dealt with is anything you haven't encountered before."

"Elaborate on this problem." The Knight seemed interested in getting quickly to business, so Teric followed suit. "What is it you want me to do, exactly?"

"There are some activists - cultists, to be more precise - stirring up trouble in the Beggar's Quarter. They are members of the 'Cult of the Nameless One', N'Jal, and they seem rather intent on recruiting the poor and disillusioned of this city to help them bring about the coming of their 'Dark Queen' or some such nonsense. There are lower level cultists on the streets, stirring the frenzy, but my infantry can deal with them. What I need from you is to deal with one of the higher-ups; the actual leader of this cult. Our intel puts him on the rooftops overlooking the riot."

"Spider-magi?" Teric asked, hesitantly.

"Dear heavens, no!" Shanai exclaimed. "The Dawn help us if full-blown spider-magi were operating within the city walls. No, this threat is less lethal, but no less sinister..."

That said, the Knight began rummaging through the papers on his desk. The top of the hulking redwood piece was covered in various reports on troop positions, infantry numbers, supply costs, etc; the common paperwork associated with any structured military force. As the commander searched for whatever it was he was looking for, Teric took a couple seconds to admire the hardwood paneling that lined the walls of the office and the framed paintings that adorned the walls.

"Ah! Here it is." The Knight slid something across the desk towards Teric, and the mercenary picked up the offered parchment expectantly. His eyes scanned what appeared to be some sort of intelligence report, his brow furrowing as he read over the names of particular interest. Without even having to ask, one name in particular stood out to the old veteran.

"Lorenor V'halkulus." Teric whistled. "You want me to assassinate the ghoul, don't you?"

"Yes... how did you know?" Orlezac was again surprised, but this time he appeared pleasantly so.

"Educated guess - I've fought him before." Teric snorted, setting his drink down on the edge of the desk as he scooted forward to the edge of his seat. The parchment was still in his hands, and the mercenary keep staring at the name in disbelief. It's a small world we live in. He contemplated silently. "We dueled it out at the Dajas Pagoda some time ago. I'm surprised you didn't know that, seeing as the Knights were there to watch."

That last comment seemed to stick Orlezac like a dagger thrust in his side. The Knight suddenly got very grim, and seemed quite uncomfortable.

"Don't even get me started on our dealings with the Dajas Pagoda." Shanai huffed. "I was all for taking the ghoul's head when he was in our custody, but no one listened. Instead Lorenor was allowed to escape, and now he's being allowed to make more trouble than he's worth."

"And you want me to clean up the mess." Teric placed the parchment face down on the table and leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. Been a while since I've done any real wet work. The mercenary was thinking, trying to remember the last time he'd been hired for a straight assassination. It's been a decade - at least.

Both men sat for a moment in silence, pondering. When that silence was broken, it was Teric who finally spoke.

"I don't know how much you think Lorenor V'halkulus is worth, but I can tell you how much it's going to cost to have him dealt with."

===========================================
1:20 AM SAT

Teric left the street two blocks from where the riot was just starting to fully rage, hoisting himself onto the rooftops via a heavy duty rain gutter that ran down the back of an old warehouse. Climbing hand over hand, the old mercenary slid over the low half-wall that surrounded the flat roof and snuck along the inside edge of the barrier as he made his way across the building towards the screaming anger of the crowd. There was a faint orange glow illuminating the underside of the night sky where the rioters were located - the combined light of a couple hundred torches as the crowd swelled.

He'd chosen the warehouse for its height compared to the buildings around it - a smattering of one and two level homes and shops that accounted for the bulk of Radasanth's urban sprawl. Reaching his vantage point on the other side of the building, Teric peered out over the city, scanning the rooftops for activity. If the Knight's intel was to prove correct, then the warrior should have had no trouble picking out Lorenor and whatever escort he travelled with standing atop one of the buildings. The dark shadowed edges of the rooftops were clean and visible against the orange glowing backdrop of the rioting populace below, and any interruption in those crisp lines - the man-shaped interruptions Teric was keen to find - would have stood out easily.

"Where are you?" The mercenary asked the night silently as he scouted for his prey. He had one hand on the edge of the rooftop, and his other hand gripped the prevalida hilt of his weapon casually. The long, thin blade was tucked away in its sheath, preventing the brilliant white of the feather-light mythril blade from betraying his position. Likewise, Teric had equipped himself light and dressed dark, wearing only his haubergeon for protection and keeping it tucked underneath a dark shirt he'd paired with his usual black breeches and boots. Teric was a shadow as he moved along the rooftop, making his way towards another building.

Standing five stories above street level, the old "Coronian Trading Company" building - long since fallen into disrepair under the neglectful watch of the squatters who likely lived there - was one of the tallest buildings in the city.

I suppose if I were looking for a good vantage point, that's where I'd go too. The mercenary conceded as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, making his way towards the side of the building farthest from the riot. Reaching the dark side of the building, the mercenary was pleasantly surprised to find the old fire escape ladders still intact. He mounted the iron rungs quickly and quietly, pulling himself skyward two rungs at a time until he was just below the level of the roof. Once there, Teric paused and drew the plynt knife from his boot, using one hand to pull himself up over that last rung while his knife-wielding hand drew back at the ready. Predictably enough, a guard had been posted by the ladder - and in typical lackey fashion he was mucking up his simple job entirely.

Guess I've got the right rooftop.

Back turned to the ladder, leaning against the half-wall that also surrounded this roof, the guard was so busy smoking a hand rolled cigarette that he never saw the knife coming as it entered his neck at the base of the skull. The man died silently as Teric pulled his forehead back, jamming the knife to the hilt and twisting it around inside the brain-cage. The mercenary eased the body down as he withdrew his knife, leaving the guard in a heap of lifeless flesh by the ladder.

"Your turn, Lorenor." Teric whispered to the night as he checked his corners, looking for other guards on the rooftop. There were several obstructions on this roof - a small water tower, a small brick protrusion that likely held stairs leading down into the building, some old crates - that made it impossible to see everything on the roof at once. The would-be assassin moved slowly, constantly checking around him as he began to search for the ghoul.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

At about the same time, the crowd was becoming restless. Seemingly adding the spark that would ignite a flame of revolution, the presence of the Knights of Dawn ignited the fury within them. They were causing quite the commotion now with Igowewa Reupcol's moving words fueling the flames of war. The Civil War had found its foothold once again and was preparing to march forward. "Listen to me my friends! Our enemies are the government itself, we must gather now to strike at the heart of this new beast! Join with us, join with N'Jal!" Nearby, the Knights of Dawn were observing the ongoing madness with growing anger and hate. It was the gears of war turning like a well oiled machine. Some of the grunts began to draw their weapons. Snipers were in position with drawn bowstrings or readied crossbows. So intent were they on the gathered crowd that they did not notice the activities on the rooftops. If fate were much kinder, there would have been a revealed sign and the massacre of the Knights would have been avoided.

Keenly orchestrated now, members of the Cult of N'Jal were gathered strategically within the crowd. The Forsaken warriors were on the rooftops with various ranged weapons at their disposal. They were awaiting the orders to be handed down the chain of command. It was beautiful. They were using the Knights' own desires to create destruction and turmoil against them. There were several squads of the Knights gathered on the streets of Corone that night. With more on the way. Intelligence reports had leaked that there would be heavy patrols in Radasanth due to the carefully placed information of the political rally. Already, the Knights were preparing to move against the gathered civilians even as the first wave of stones were flung. A small group of them were beginning to take a few steps forward, but more experienced veterans placed hands upon the more eager cadets. "Wait for it." The older veterans whispered to their counterparts. "There will be plenty of action soon enough. Be patient a little bit longer. By Lord Draconus' will, we shall have war." A commanding officer said to his comrades who simply returned to their positions even as small stones were flung at them.

Some of the Knights had to use their tower shields to deflect some of the more deadly looking of the projectiles. Clangs of rock against heavy plate added a symphony in the night. Angry shouts accentuated the music as several people in the crowd began to get bold. They started to walk towards the Knights as the Knights stood in their position. "Wait for it." Was whispered again. Several men from the gathered crowd began to attempt to antagonize the Knights into action. As a political entity, the audience knew that they could not simply get the Knights to act without proper provocation. They were trying to avenge their fallen brothers during the Gisella Massacre. Suddenly, a Coronian man with a heavy Jadet dialect shouted. "Remember Gisella!" And so it began. Quietly, weapons were drawn from beneath clothing. And the trap was sprung. Several Forsaken warriors were hidden in the crowd, but most importantly, there was one particular threat that was creeping down the sides of several building. Merging out of the shadows, the slayers of Ithermoss were gathering their numbers.

Spider Magi! Dozens of them called by Lorenor and his companions just for this specific job. A veteran captain named Negoto Hisyt suddenly took a look at the sides of the buildings. Webs were being conjured that were several yards in length made of the infamous spider-silk. The creatures originated from Concordia Forest and had the upper bodies of several humanoid races. Some of them even had Endless of their own! Already powerful, the devastating creatures stepped out of the shadows and onto the grounds. Merciless killing machines, they began their assault on the hated enemy. "Servants of the Nameless One!" Cried one of the rookies as he brought arms to a fighting position. The men had gathered expecting to put down a riot, not fight N'Jal's accursed Spider-Magi. Moving as one unit, the dozen or so Spider Magi had already flanked the Knights of Dawn. They took up sniping positions and began to throw deadly acidic grenades at the Knights. It was crude, but effective warfare. Negoto's blue eyes twitched at the corners as he prepared for imminent combat. "Shields up! Attack at will."

***

Seeing the nearby Spider Magi emerge as the trap was sprung, the small man raised his fist. Forsaken warriors gathered on opposite rooftops saw the signal and tossed ropes over the sides of buildings. They rappelled down the side of the buildings to street level and began their three-pronged assault on the Knights. Men began to yell as acidic grenades struck and exploded upon well constructed armor. The Spider Magi launched grenades then receded back into the shadows, fading quickly into their dark realm. A few moments later, they emerged in various positions around the combat zone to snipe once more with their deadly organic grenades. Bursts of noise and power burst through the air to signal the initial attack's start. Legendary for their abilities to use stealth, the Spider Magi were summoned strictly for the purpose of providing support to the Forsaken warriors. These warriors, the Spider Magi, used uncanny weapons to obliterate the Knights of dawn. Deadly at a distance, their skills were legendary at close-quarters. Eight legged beasts with humanoid upper bodies starting at the abdominal region attacked with the fury of the dark lady at their disposal.

Energy began to crackle through the air as the Knights' Magi sent archaic weapons through it. Bolts of lightning and bursts of fire shot through the air hitting nothing but. The Spider Magi were simply moving too quickly. Igowewa Reupcol looked up at the roof that he knew where the small warrior that was their leader was currently stationed. He waved at the man and began to make a strategic escape. Escorted by the two Forsaken warriors, the three men left the battle-zone. The gathered men simply were ignored as they started their own fight against the Knights of Dawn. Several more squads of the Knights showed up but had no knowledge of the Spider Magi. They were there to serve as a controlling point to the gathered mob. Now, the mob was beginning to converge on the Knights. Some of the members had noticed the Spider Magi's presence. Fleeing with terror, they met with their demise as Spider Magi warriors impaled them with the talons visible at the tips of long, hairy legs.

Paranoid screams filled the night now. It was a beautiful symphony. An appropriate homage to the dark lady. Lorenor turned away from the carnage to pray for a moment and give thanks to the dark lady for their good tidings in this brutal act of war. Suddenly, something faint caught the small warrior's attention. With a sensory grid boasting twenty feet in a sphere all together now, the effects were his greatest power. Catching a particular scent amidst all the chaos, the mutant smelled within the grid for a moment. Wind carried the scent with it as it touched the mutant's grid. It was a phenomenal ability, and would one day become one of the most legendary of all. Lorenor's mind flashed with a quick thought. He suddenly remembered a battle against an old foe. Teric Barton. "It can't be." The mutant said out loud to nobody in particular. He turned towards the general direction of the scent. It was still a bit of a ways away from his position and he couldn't quite get a lock on it. The mutant switched to heat vision and saw the position of the Forsaken warriors within his sensory array.

He knew that his old foe was out there. A most interesting turn of events. Let's see where this goes... The mutant thought to himself as he drew his enchanted prevalida sword and moved into a relaxed combat stance. His weapon was pointed down to the ground beneath him.