Branches slapped against her wrinkled face and caught in her wispy hair as she fled through the woods. Her old lungs burned as she hid behind a barren maple tree trying to catch her wind. Her breath caught in her throat and she became still as a fawn as she heard a terrifying squeal in the near distance. The fear reinvigorated her limbs and she began her hopeless run again, but before long, the creature caught her scent and was close behind. Suddenly she stumbled, tripping over a fallen log. Lying in the leaves, panting and crying, she felt the air grow warm as the demon closed upon her. She scrambled backwards, stopping only when her back pressed against a large tree. Waves of heat and malice rolled off the porcine monster. It emitted a small squeal of hunger and elation that marked her death was soon to come. With the terror clearly painted on her withered face, she knew that in a moment she would be consumed. Her thoughts drifted to her many children and grandchildren all across Arawyn. With them in her thoughts, her fear washed away and was replaced with a placid resolve. The old woman closed her eyes and began whispering reverently under her breath. Boarzhu Vescor stalked toward its ready meal.

*     *     *     *     *

A rotund and ancient imp scrambled his way through the Abyss, avoiding the monstrous and terrifying creatures that cared little for his ilk. He had a message to deliver and there were enemies all around. He darted and looked, waiting for some dumb magician to summon forth something it didn’t understand so he could complete the idiotic task asked of him. It was his way to earn passage back into the prime material plane. A small rift opened and a younger creature of his breed darted toward its potential freedom. The corpulent imp had been at this a long time and waited patiently for the larger demons to take notice and begin dispatching toward the small rift. As if on cue, the ancient imp turned invisible and stepped upon the wind gaining him a quick ascent to his prize and to the task at hand.

*     *     *     *     *

In a small pub very far from the formal council room in which their meetings would normally take place, five shrouded members of the twelve met in secret. Whispered arguments were almost audible enough to be overheard by those at the next table, almost loud enough, but not quite. However certain words, spoken in anger or excitement, just barely carried over the crackle of the merry flames in the large fireplace. If overheard, it is certain that these words would raise more questions than they answered.





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~Commodore Sleafus Donnerbane to his fiance Evangeline before attacking a horde of demons.

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