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The Call to War

The rain had ceased it downpour for the moment, scattered around Arthyr and his warband were the remains of a dozen squigs and at least as many Grots. Arthyr looked around to get an idea of the damage sustained to his brave Aelves; most were injured and a couple were lying with their life blood mingling in the mud and grime. He had felt their spirits pass from this mortal realm and said a quiet prayer to Kurnous.

Before he could finish his prayer and contemplate their losses, the sound of angelic wings broke through the sound of distant thunder. Uhtred landed heavily splashing mud across Arthyr's soaked cloak. The two old friends, soaked and tired, embraced each others hands in the warriors grip and nodded a welcome.

"Arthyr, war approaches. The Flamescar Plateau is being invaded by the forces of Chaos, Death and Destruction. We cannot let the treasures and knowledge of the ancient Agloraxi fall into their hands. Our scryers at Spiteshade have also seen us battling together …