To Where The Stones Gather.

Attondel watched as the two women slowly rose on the gusting wind of the tunnel leading upward to the fortified hold of Tyar Besil.  Clutched by the blade close to the hilt, Obsidian's black surface prickled against his palm, signalling him that something had caught his sentient blades attention.

"Master, another approaches through the stone at speed!" Obsidian's grating voice heard only in the Goliath's mind rang with a tone of urgency. 

More urgency than usual. 

Attondel turned a weary eye upwards, spinning the massive great sword with such ease that it may as well have been a willow switch. It's gleaming back blade, nearly seven feet in length coming to rest upon an armoured shoulder.

A moment later Attondel's true sight caught the almost imperceptible ripple in the stone ceiling. To him it was as obvious as tidal wave approaching the shore as his eyes seldom missed even the most minute detail, especially when it came to stone.

He widened his stance slowly and raised his free muscled arm close to the hilt, ready to grip and strike.

There were no tremors, no dust fell from this strange event. It behaved as if the rock was a pool of clear water reflecting a mountain range that had been disturbed by a solitary pebble.

A moment later a small, lithe form sprang out of the stone and landed in a kneel, one arm stretched out to the side, the other hand with the naked palm flat against the stone. The rippling ceiling near instantly returning to its solid state.

He noticed the black bracers first, around supple wrists, shining and flawless. Familiar, like his blade.

"Attondel, well met." Came a cool feminine voice, devoid of any emotion. Flat, calm, tranquil. His attention returned to the form before him. A moment of contemplation brought remembrance.
"Helenrae," boomed his baritone voice, a stark contrast to hers. "What are you doing here?"

She stood slowly, running one open hand down her chest to her hip, straightening the small crease in her flawless attire.

"My final test awaits. Lord Samular has dispatched me to aid you in your task." She replied in that cool, controlled voice.
A crimson hood of velvet, complete with a veil leaving only her mouth and angled cheeks and chin visible adorned her head. This extended into a fine robe of a durable looking fabric, adorned with beads and small polished stones.

She suddenly cocked her head and pointed away from their position, through the wall. As if lending an eat to an unseen whisper.

"Your companions are suddenly close to here."
"That would be Morthos," He stated nonchalantly as the howling wind that blew up the shaft to the ancient dwarven kingdom became still. Now filled with only an eerie silence.
"It appears my companions have completed their task and closed the air portal." Attondel deduced.
"We should rejoin your party and continue your task." Helenrae suggested as a hand went a black rod fastened to her waist. It extended by three feet almost instantly as it entered her grasp. She tapped it once against the floor, then once against the nearby wall, allowing a small echo to escape. Then she turned and walked further down the hall with a confidence of a person who had lived down here all her life.

The Gloliath's gaze went quickly back to Helenrae and her forearms that were adorned with those black, gleaming bracers.
He couldn't see a seam, or a crease, and he knew that they were most certainly made from same gleaming stone that Obsidian was wrought.

He dismissed his speculation and focused again upon his surroundings.No questions now. He knew there would be time for that once they had rejoined the vanguard.

Helenrae

Master Renwick.
I have received word from The Vanguard that they have breached the inner sanctum of the Howling Hatred and the destruction of the Elemental Air Portal is imminent. The Vanguard seek to move on The Black Earth immediately after their assault on Howling Hatred.
I have a task for the one in your care known as Helenrae. She may have intimate knowledge of their compound and sending her would be sufficient test to see where her loyalties rest.
Enclosed with this scroll is the arcane missive with the necessary incantations to provide Helenrae with the means to track The Vanguard.

Send her, Renwick, with all speed.

Anveena.

Neifion - The Lord of Bats

Neifion The Lord of Bats.

He had watched Virgil move from tavern to tavern for weeks. Uncaring and calculated as he fleeced unsuspecting card players, novice and expert alike.

Virgil's hands and acuity, naturally quick. He was impressed with Virgil's ability to run the hustle completely. From start to finish, a flawless exercise in planning and execution.
He was Neifion - Lord of Bats, and he had been at his masters service for near all his adult life.
He was older, and slower now. Slower than what was required to be the embodiment Neifion.
He thought of what it had been to be Neifion all these years. The lives he'd made better, or worse. He had thought of those lives he had taken.
To have his name whispered by the people his actions influenced. To the nobility, he was a scourge upon their corrupted tax collectors. To the criminal underworld, he was the shadow that fought back against their stand over tactics and violence. To those that toil endlessly in their fields to feed and clothe their families, he was a Godsend. To Gamblers, like Virgil, he was a flip of a coin. A favoured patron, or a name to curse when your luck was down.
Neifion had fought to maintain a balance of good and evil. Favouring neither, but not allowing one to completely overthrow the other.
The balance must be kept.
He saw the potential in Virgil. He saw the skill set needed to be Neifion. The cunning, the guile. Neifion had accepted his proposal for Virgil to become the next. He would force the man's hand. Move him like a pawn on a chessboard.
Yet a single decision from this pawn could turn him into a knight, to smite oppression. A rook, to be a bastion that holds back the tides of darkness, Perhaps he may even become a King, and surpass where he had failed.
What was important now was maintaining the balance.
Time was running short and Neifion knew he must act soon.
The balance must be kept.

Virgil Crane

The piles of gambling chips in front of Virgil made the other two piles look tiny in comparison.

He had been working the tables in this tavern each night for a tenday now, losing more than he won.

All his losses were inconsequential, as he would leave this tavern only to enter another and break even a few hours later.

Tonight was the payoff.

He was two hands from cleaning house and this round was all but done.

"Call" The grizzled older player to his left laid down the last of his chips along with an old oak container no larger than a shoe box. "That's all I have" he said with a half smile on his face.

A powdered noble smirked and met his bid, before both of them turned to Virgil. He allowed his eyes to flinch, just enough for his opponents to see before meeting the bet. Cards were flipped, firstly he older man, Displaying two pair. Jacks  over eights, with a lone four.
Virgil let out an audible gasp which caused the noble to grin and turn his hand.
Full house. Jacks over black aces and one hand went greedily for the pile of chips in the centre of the table.

Virgil threw his cards with a flick of his wrist to his right, the nobles face turning to a grimacing hatred as he saw the red aces, flanked by three queens.

"Get your hands off my chips." Virgil calmly stated as he scooped the centre of the table back to his corner.

The old grizzled man. Smiled and stood turning to the bar.

The noble, now flanked by two burly men towered above him.

Virgil woke in the alley, his left eye swollen closed, blood in his mouth and s sharp pain near his ribs.

"Ye played a good game  lad, but you need to work on your withdrawal." Said the grizzled man as he helped him to his feet.

"At least they didn't take everything of value."

Virgil looked down through his one good eye and saw the oak box.

"There's riches in this box but they couldn't open it. Only a man in the village of Greenest can open it."

Virgil spat some blood and tongued a loose tooth in the back of his mouth.

"Greenest?" He said incredulously, "I have to go to greenest to get anything from this bloody night."

The old man, still smiling offered a shoulder and Virgil accepted.

"I swear it's worth the trip. You've got a good soul." He now locked eyes with Virgil and Virgil could not look away.

"You will take this box to greenest and stay there until it opens."

The words resounded within his very core.
"Y-yes," Virgil stammered. "I will go to greenest."

The Dream

I am dreaming.

Lost in a realm where I cannot find home.
In my sleeping mind I see images of places long gone. Warm visions of people's faces that I may have once known.

I awoke, completely submerged in an ocean in storm.
My mind believing I was drowning was the first encounter I conquered.
I walked in the deep waters until the light became truth. My journey on the oceans floor imparted it's secrets and when I emerged from its depths I had an understanding of what made it strong. 

I could now use it's power as my own.

This construct, this "Frame" that I now inhabit allows me to move amongst the people of this land with little trouble. It allows me to fight, to learn. To live.

When I am weary I wake.
I wake to darkness. I am some place elsewhere, distant and ancient. I can feel my body fill with air. I can hear the sound of my breath.
Beyond these few sensations I am lost.
Am I truly alive?

I will use this frame to wander and I will seek knowledge. Some day perhaps, I will know the truths.

I am timeless. I am patient. I will find myself again.