The two of them stood half hidden in the shadowy recesses of the darkened

alleyway. Across the charred cobblestone street from the entrance to the alley a soft

light drifted out through an open doorway followed by the sounds of revelment and

joy. Overhead Turpa reeled in anger. The clouds, echoing the Goddess of Weather's

mood, broke and released a torrent of icy cold droplets upon the war ravaged city of

Arkane. The smell of char and sulfur still permeated the air around the city but the

dampness of the rain weighed it down enough to make it reasonably tolerable. The

city itself seemed to sigh in relief as the rain washed the ash from her face. Streams

of gray water ran in rivers down the streets and eventually out of the city itself. The

taller of the two noticed a slight change in the stance of his elven companion and an

evil grin spread across his face. He nodded and the two of them set out across the

street and into the open doorway.

Naerla glided easily through the crowded common room of the Prancing Maiden.

As she dodged a drunken patron on his way out the front door she deftly set a glass of

elven Amberfire down at a booth with two robed men. The younger of the two winked

at her as she passed by and then quickly glanced at his companion who had not noticed

the exchange. She smiled and headed back to the bar to grab another mug of ale for the

half ogre near the door. Travin was his name. Naerla had seen him in the Maiden a few

times before but had never seen him join any other patrons in conversation nor had she

seen any of them attempt to seek him out. A slight nod from him was all the recognition

she received for delivering his drink but she knew that when he settled up with her at the

end of the night he would be generous with the tip. As she headed back towards the bar

her ears perked up at the sudden lull in conversation as if the finger of Necrucifer had

passed over the lips of everyone present. The hairs on her neck and arms began to rise

and she spun around to look towards the front door. Two shadows stood in the doorway,

the ensignia of Malice on their breastplates. Over to her left the sound of an iron tankard

hitting the floor woke Naerla from the daze she had entered. Grabbing a rag she headed

for the source of the noise with full intention of distracting her mind from the fear that

it felt. As she knelt down to wipe up the ale that was rapidly spreading across the tavern

floor she heard a scuffle and the moans of several patrons. Nervously she stood up and

slowly turned around. A scream caught in her throat as she watched a small river of dark

red fluid run down the hilt of a small dagger protruding from the throat of Travin. Tears

welled up in her eyes as the small elven soldier tossed a tencrown at her and laughed.

"When you finish with the ale clean up this trash." he said as he kicked the dying body

of Travin to the floor. Naerla absently nodded. She never even saw the cloaked figure

that slipped out into the stormy night behind the elf and his companion.

The black destrier raised and shook its head as the familiar form of its rider

emerged from the doorway. Draghul Iroendr'ak smiled to himself as he untethered

the destrier from the post and leapt up into the saddle. Behind him the sounds of

merriment had begun slowly to resume but it was somehow different. It had gained a

new edge.....that of forced laughter. With a pull to the worn leather reins he steered

the destrier down main street towards the Arkane Port. Once outside the broken gates

of the City of Ash he dug his heels into the destriers flanks and roared out a cry to the

Gods. Spurring the horse to breakneck speed he raced down hidden trails in the Kender

Forest with a reckless abandon.

After a time he raced into a clearing in the forest, pulling back on the reins he

brought the destrier to a halt and vaulted from the saddle. Draghul removed the saddle

and blanket from the powerful horse and began to rub it down with handfuls of sweet

smelling grass. Finished with tending to the needs of his mount he released it to graze in

the clearing and set about finding kindling and wood for a fire. Near the edge of the

clearing he found an old dry limb that had fallen from one of the oaks that made up the

majority of the forest. He set about hacking it into smaller useful sized logs for his camp.

After the better part of an hour the wood was cut and the fire was beginning to burn

nicely. Spreading his blanket out near the fire he laid back and stared at the stars and

waited for sleep to come.

Black waves danced across the upper decks of the Revenge. The storm was unholy

in every aspect...visibility was nil...the sails had been lowered out of fear that the mast

would crack and collapse...three deckhands had been washed overboard in the black waters.

Three people whose faces were unfamiliar and yet in quite a few ways all too similar. Out of

the sea rose a towering minotaur with blood red horns and eyes unlike any creature that had

ever existed before...fire, blood, hate, steel, pain, honor, death, life...all of these things were

reflected in those eyes. A twisted smile crossed the face of the Lord of War. Inhaling he drew

in a mighty breath and with a heaving blow he set the Revenge racing across the dark waters

into a fate unknown.

Draghul leapt up from his sleep in a cold sweat. Diving over the fire he rolled away

from his bedroll and came up in a crouched position with his axe in his hands. The gleam of

the fire danced and writhed across the polished head of the weapon. In the firelight he made

out three figures. One standing a few scant feet from where he had just been the other two

closer to the edge of the clearing. Grinning he yelled out a great battlecry and charged the

closest figure. His axe whistled in the air singing for blood and was temporarily satiated as

it sunk deep into the collar of the first creature. The body fell to the ground its blood dousing

the hungry earth. The other two seeing the human they had originally taken to be easy prey

slaughter their leader with ease turned and sped off into the night. Draghul turned just in time

to see their flight into the forest. Growling he turned to the felled creature. "Foolish kobald,

ye canna but try....ye ken? When ye stand before the Lord of Battle ye best be telling him o'

yur attempt on me life and how ye came ta be standing afore him. I dunna why ye ken ta come

after me but I dunna think it were a good idea." Smiling he drove the head of his axe into the

kobolds skull cleaving it in twain.

He finished strapping the saddle onto the destrier and shook his head. "Leave it ta

a kobald ta spoil a perfectly good campsite." he muttered as he climbed into the saddle. He

clicked his tongue in his mouth and the destrier began to trot. He steered the black steed to the

west on a little used game trail that led to the cave used by the pirates as a stronghold. His

mind reeled with thoughts of what the godsent dream had meant as he left it to the destrier to

lead the way home.

The cave mouth was little more than a crack in the side of a cliff. Nodding to the guard

Draghul dismounted and led the destrier past the cannon that stood as the caves frontal defense.

Once inside the tunnel the light began to fade. Memory took over and his feet carried him over

familiar ground. The tunnel split into two larger tunnels branching off to the northeast and

northwest, leading the destrier to the northeast he headed towards the stables. A young boy

with a dirty face ran up and smiled. "Yur wantin yur horse looked after Captain Iroendr’ak?"

asked the youth. A silent nod was his reply. Draghul handed over the reins and turned back

towards the split in the tunnel. Heading north through the twisting passages his thoughts turned

to his pride and joy…..the Revenge. The ship had been recently commissioned and its command

had been given to him. The Revenge was smaller than the Wraith but no less deadly, small and

fast she danced through the seas with her cannons at the ready. The tunnel began to turn west

and ahead the smell of sea air cave drifting through the tunnels. Draghul inhaled deeply, the

damp salty air filling his lungs and reviving his spirit. His step gained a spring and his

pace increased as the dirt beneath his feet gave way to the hard stone of the docks. Ahead

the Revenge waited for her master, her lover, her captain.

Once on board a spark leapt up in his heart igniting the passion that burned there. He yelled

out "ALL HANDS ON DECK!" and waited for the crew to assemble. From below deck five crewmen surged

forth from the hatch, the three above deck came to stand near and a scruffy looking goblin came

running out from the crew quarters on the bow. "AYE AYE CAPTAIN!" they shouted in some mockery of

unison. "A’right listen up ya scoundrels. I wanna h’ae her ready for sail in an hour. Think ye ken

h’ae that done?" asked Draghul with laughter in his voice. "AYE AYE CAPTAIN!" the crew responded

with excitement and a little more enthusiasm. "Good than ye ken scurry off and get ta work." He

said as he turned to enter the captain’s quarters. "Shrat when she be ready ta set sail come get

me in me quarters. Ye ken?" Draghul called out as he entered the aft hallway. "AYE AYE CAPTAIN!"

he heard behind him. Draghul smiled to himself as he heard the flapping feet of the goblin race

off through the ship. The mahogany walls of the captain’s quarters still smelled of the forest.

They hadn’t been at sea long enough for the smell of salt to invade every ounce of the ship. He

sat down at the long table and poured over the charts. "Where da we head this time?" Draghul asked

himself. Closing his eyes he placed one hand on the chart and moved it around on the table. After

he was convinced that he had no idea which way the map faced he jabbed a finger down and opened

his eyes. Icewall. "Well I’ll be a kender’s topknot." he muttered to himself. Draghul walked back

to the aft hallway and shouted "WE’LL BE HEADIN FUR ICEWALL…SO BRING YUR FURS!" Through the walls

of the ship he heard muffled curses and smiled to himself. It was going to be an interesting trip.

A wide grin slowly spread across his face and a gentle laugh climbed out of his belly as he laid

down and plotted their course.