Enter.....A Fiend.

Slowly the wagon train moved forward, Carrying it's occupants to a new and hopeful fertile land where hopes and dreams could be realized without the taint of the Withered Aegis threatening to overrun the peacful people of Istaria.

Wind howled outside and battered the heavy canvas covering the wagon. Inside, a fiendish character sat staring at the flickering flame of the lamp illuminating the space. His eyes stared, gazing as if a trance had been invoked by the spirits of the ether and his very soul held ransom.

In truth, he was simply enjoying the chaotic actions of the flame, relishing in its simplistic yet purposeful nature. He had begun likening himself in many ways to that flame. He sincerely hoped that the new world would bring many bounties to feed his fire.

After several hours staring into the soul of the flame, Scarn de Diabolic extinguished the lamp's fire and bathed the wagon in darkness. And before he fell into slumber, he prayed to himself that, unlike the flame, his essence would not be extinguished so easily.

[Ashe Scyndrion]

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[Scarn's Dream]

A shadowed figure stood leaning, one arm against the top of a fireplace, tending the glowing embers of a dying fire in the darkened halls of Kirasanct. ?Father you cannot do this!?, the shadowed figure exclaimed. ?The traitors of the past are no longer amongst them, the fire of their lives extinguished long ago.? The clanging of armored footmen preparing for battle could be heard echoing throughout the great halls. ?I'll not be part of this!? said Scarn. A voice from a darkened corner of the room spoke up,? You have no choice my son.? Without warning pain filled Scarn's mind as darkness took him; his body slumping to the chambers floor. The shadowed figure in the corner commanded, ?Take him, do as you must with him but do not let his body be found within these walls. Those that stand not with us are our enemies, and the enemies of the Withered Aegis as well!?

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[Scarn's Dream continued]

.....Darkness once again had taken Scarn, many thoughts flooded his mind. How could he stop the onslaught of the Withered Aegis?, Why had his father chosen to aid them?, Who are Sunsfire and Sihn, the names his father had spoken of most often? And perhaps the biggest question of all, could he kill his father if it came down to it? Certainly with time he could amass the skill, but it was the act itself he was doubting. Since his mother was killed long ago by the actions of the humans, his father had raised him, taught him the skills of the forge and the warrior; his father had tolerated his indulgence in dabbling with more arcane studies, but to him they were the distractions of an unfocused mind. Scarn pondered deeply if he could kill his father, the one that shaped his very life.......Slowly light began to return to Scarn; the dizzy aching feeling was back again. He heard weapons clanging, then a loud blast; an explosion. Barely able to regain his posture he looked up; he could make out two figures in heated battle, a towering mass of muscle wielding a small tree for a club, fighting a fiendish mage that appeared to be losing the battle. Not realizing Scarn possessed the ability to call upon Istaria and summon a mystical blade to aid him, the Ogre's eyes widened as pain gripped its body, gazing down the cause was immediately apparent, Scarn's mystical blade protruded from its spine, catching the great beast completely by surprise! The Ogre's potentially fatal blow stopped seconds before hitting its intended target. Reeling in pain, dazed and somewhat confused, the lumbering beast dropped to its knees. The Ogre's life flowed through the various wounds inflicted upon it's body, fell over dead...

Scarn's vision cloudy, he attempted a smile, the mage fiend regaining his posture, exclaimed, ?You looked like you could use a hand, and, thanks for the rescue!? ?Hehe, who rescued, whom?? Scarn replied.

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[The Introduction]

?You are hurt!, Here let me help you.? Scarn exclaimed, lowering his hand to help the injured fiend mageling back to his feet. ?My name is Scarn de Diabolic and whom may I ask is my savior?? , the fellow fiend replied. ?Ashe Scyndrion is my name, as to the savior comment, I'd say you did your fair share of saving also.?

?So where are you headed??, Scarn inquired. ?If it be Kirasanct I'd steer clear of that place for a bit, seems minions of the Withered Aegis have assembled there on their way to Aughundale.?, (city of the dwarves.)

?I go to meet up with my fellow clansmen of the Order of the Phoenix, we head to other lands in hopes of saving our peoples and starting anew. You are welcome to accompany us, we can always use another able body. I'm sure Lady Sunsfire and Lord Sihn would have a place for you.? Ashe replied.

Ashe lifted his pack back over his shoulder, prepared to depart, he turned back to Scarn and said,? We are gathering to the north at the shores past Mahgra the home of the giants. Forgive me but I cannot travel with you now, there is something I must do first. Tell them Ashe sent you, and that I shall be there soon.?

The names Ashe spoke of piqued Scarn's curiosity, he decided to accept his kind offer and journey north to Mahgra, the lands of the giants. As close as Kirasanct is to Mahgra, Scarn had never traveled there before, he waved goodbye to his new friend and wished him well. ?Be safe my friend, I've a feeling we'll see each other again soon. Hopefully under better circumstances.? he chuckled.

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[The Gathering]

The sounds of water breaking against the shore, seagulls squawking, hunting for their morning breakfast, awakened a now rested fiend, lying curled within a cloak in the back of a currently motionless wagon. Eager to survey his surroundings the traveler Scarn de Diabolic unfurled from his warm cocoon and exited the wagons expanse. Greeted by the rush of cold morning air, and a beautiful sunrise, he twisted and stretched, waking his numb tingling limbs.
As he surveyed his surroundings, he could see several others were amongst him on the beach. Fiends, gnomes, humans, dwarves, some from all races of Istaria, even dragon kin, all appeared to have one thing in common; they'd come to gather at the shores near Mahgra. Two great wooden sailing ships, bearing a huge banner of a shield with a fiery symbolic bird (apparently a phoenix) resting within it, seem to be anchored off shore within the cove. Several of the shores previous occupants appeared to be making their way to the ships, either swimming, or in longboats. From behind, in the distance, a shout, barely audible, could be heard. ?To arms!!!, To arms!!!?. Scarn turned to see what was transpiring. The shouting figure was almost completely engulfed within a green fog, coming almost instantly from nowhere, it began spreading, covering the beach for as far as his eyes could see. Hurriedly, Scarn began donning his armor, he knew what was happening, he'd seen the fog before. The Withered Aegis had arrived, the voice which had been alerting everyone to the presence of the fog was suddenly silenced and the sound of thunder could be heard. Many of the shores occupants were rushing to leave the area, heading for the ships, a handful remained. Of those remaining Scarn was one, he quickly noticed more of his kin, a couple, man and woman, donning scaled armor of bronze, gazed defiantly toward the mist. They were joined by three others, the mage he'd met earlier, Ashe, a very young dragon, red in color, scales glistening like flames licking its hide, and a male Saris, donning Bronze ring armor and wielding a bow. The woman very striking, with the stance of a warrior born, motioned invitingly for Scarn to join them.

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[Buying time]

The sent of decaying flesh was heavy in the area. The sounds of metal dragging against stone, and what appeared to be bone grinding against rock could be heard from all around the defiant party. Scarn's keen instincts barely afforded him enough time to react to an appearing rusty axe emerging from the sickly green fog. Spinning, he barely evaded the near fatal blow to his head. The sounds of unearthly incantations began emerge from within the blight. A beam of dark black vicious energy emerged and struck the archer Saris in the shoulder. Reeling in pain he aimed deftly into the blight and released an arrow. Apparently finding its target, a minute thud came from the arrow, immediately causing the chanting to stop. Shouting battle cries the warrior born woman and her companions charged bravely into the sickly green fog. The sounds of metal striking against metal could be heard, the battle had more than begun.