The Kingdom of the Emerald Hills

A lone figure sat amongst the billowing grasses that seethed like the restless sea upon the hills of King's Point. In black, this figure was a lone stone in the field, an island in golden waters. Slowly, a soft breath escaped as thoughts of the future slowly coalesced behind closed eyes. Life was patterns. The past gave insight to the future. This future was not filled with silent conquest and elegant precision. This would mean gross destruction.

Tales of those long dead being ripped from their sacred rest and used as a catalyst to summon beasts of unspeakable natures had been spread across the kingdom. They were solidified, used, and cast away in hopes of never being found. Unfortunately for this fel practitioner these souls seemed to have will of their own and worked their way in to the hands of the lesser rulers of the kingdom. These souls had undeniable power... power enough to stimulate the insatiable greed of men.

So many tales in history were written in the wake of greed. Men, eager to dominate those around him seeks power at any cost. This would be no different. The leaders of these smaller states within these Emerald hills would scramble to claim the scattered souls and dominate those around them. People unfit to wield weapons would be forced to defend themselves from invading forces driven to fight by misguided ideals and warped doctrines.

He could only see one course of action. He would have to bring his case to a greater power... someone he hoped trust could be placed in. Those like him could be convinced to intervene... for the sake of the kingdom. In a final whisper the wind gusted, the golden sea trembled, and the island was no more.

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GMR of King's Point

The shade studied the tattered parchment one again. The hand written missive dripped with ominous concern. The dark soul who watched from the shadows in the deep woods of King's Point had received important information that would mold the kingdoms history in the coming days.

Candles flickered, casting ghostly shadows that danced across the chamber walls. The occasional sound of clinking chains broke the intense silence. Sutra stood at the end of the small wooden desk.

He had ensured that the remnants of the original Guild lair was stripped to its bare necessities. It was a safe house. A place to meet in secrecy. A place that could be discarded at a moments notice.

The Guild was not made of flesh and stone. It was an idea. An idea that inspired the closest of circles to feats of greatness no other guild could claim. An idea that embedded itself in the nightmares of many a noble, wondering if they were next in line to be 'spoken' to.

A faith that stood the test of time.

The warning he peered at carried with it a worrisome truth. Rumor of escalated skirmishes with the undead and beast of lore had begun to spring up all around the kingdoms holdings.

Was the lack of proper kingdom crowns sitting on the heads of those who claimed power the root of all this unrest? Myths of protective spirits blessing the ancient crowns abounded. Anarchy and chaos had begun to take root in the hearts of men ever since their disappearance. Sutra wondered if these wife's tales were more than just that. Fables.

The dark one slowly lowered himself into the wooden armchair, not noticing the creaking complaints of the chair as he leaned back to consider the options.

There was much work to be done. And he knew the souls who would play an integral part in this new chapter of the Emerald Hills.

All in due time.

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The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu

Malran paced his cold study, the fire having long burned itself into smoldering coals. There was plenty of wood in the rack but Malran had been too busy pouring over yet another useless tome to worry about comforts like warmth. He had come up empty in his quest so far, even with the entirety of the Bardic College's extensive libraries at his disposal. There seemed to be either little interest in bring back the dead among the bards of old or it had been buried among some seemingly useless drivel so as to discourage those of lesser constitution from pursuing it.

He had approached Karasu, whom he suspected of being associated with the assassin's guild, but to no avail. Torgier had been his friend as well, but he either felt no loyalty toward his old friend or felt that he was too far out of reach after a full turning of a season. He had refused to admit that he had contact with those who knew more of the necromantic arts.

"I WILL NOT GIVE UP!" Malran suddenly screamed.

His eyes danced around the room in a mad search for anything to give him hope. They lit upon a copy of the letter that he had seen Duke Sutra just a day before giving warning of the impending attack on Artus Pass.

"Maybe they know something and if I help them....." Malran's eyes gleemed in the dying flicker of the coals as the cold wind battered the shuttered window. The grin on his face was less about joy and more akin to that of a madman's grimace.

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Lord Malran Singollo
Duke of Dreadmoor
Patriarch, House Singollo
Lettusio-Rex, Dreadmoor Fey Jackalope
Member of the House of H.O.P.S.

The dark shade studied the frantic scribbling on the dirtied parchment:

"Duke Sutra,

I truly hope that this missive reaches you in time and you and your fellows are well. It has been brought to my attention that a fairly strong force of undead has been spotted by scouts of house Singollo. These scouts were able to obtain, through means quite clever I'm sure, intelligence that points to at least two attacks in the near future and maybe more. The one's mentioned were an attack on Morningwood Glen, in which the creature's goals are still obfuscated, and an attack on Artus Pass as well. I know more of this attack and, I fear, yourself and Eniad may be especially at risk. I am attempting to form a group to send to your aid in an attempt to foil their designs and, hopefully, learn a bit more about their future plans. I do hope that we make it in time and, if not, may the spirits of our ancestors preserve you all.

Lord Malran Singollo"

Sutra added the missive to the accumulating pile of correspondence from all four corners of the kingdom. Slowly leaning into the creaky wooden chair, he stroke his chin lost in furtive contemplation.

Rumors of seemingly orchestrated attacks had been forseen. No word from the Glen had come in. Perhaps this was hersay and nothing more. Vampries and restless souls. The pieces to the puzzle were obscenely unrelated to the grand design he thought.

'Completely random...' he muttered to himself.

The dark shade turned in his chair and examined the burdened wall. Covered in detailed illustrations, scribbled names and places, bits of maps and random information - the wall spoke volumes. If only he could piece it all together.

In the upper right hand corner, a piece of paper read 'Wizards Guild' surrounded by a couple names he recognized. Opposite of that, 'Emerald Library' with an illustrated crest of the master wizard known as Hellblazer. A kingdom map with hastily added on bits of paper marking the newest additions to the kindom formed the centerpiece. Tacked up letters from informants and allies from every kingdom holding stared loudly back at him. Names of high ranking officials formed a sort of containing border on the lower left corner. Short hand copies from religious manuscripts filled up the lower right hand corner - all with refferences to souls and the end times.

Sutra closed his eyes and began to hum.

Defensive preparations at the Pass had been completed. Taking back the shires position of sheriff quickly put his resolve to the test.

The past few nights proved quite revealing, sitting and sharing tales and thoughts with a couple of familiar spirits at the tavern.

Whispering lyrics to a lullaby he had never heard, his thoughts drifted into a deep slumber.

He would get answers tomorrow, even if he had to kill for them.

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The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu