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[Zoleer]

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“Why do we keep failing??!!” he shouted as he slammed his fist down on the marble desk, chipping a piece off. “Bring him to me!” A few moments later a figure appeared at the doorway carrying a large satchel which was stuffed with papers. Twas not a man but a humanoid nonetheless, big, over 7 feet tall donning a pure white robe stained here and there with who knows what and the unmistakable color of….blood. “You sent for me, my Lord?” the creature asked, as if slightly annoyed. “Yes I did” motioning to the chair on the opposite side of the desk, “sit, we obviously have much to discuss.”

The two were locked in a heated discussion for hours. Some of the papers from the satchel were strewn on the desk and on the floor. As the night went on the two were visibly weary but the discussion went on. Finally, he got up from behind the desk and opened the door. Just outside the door a lone figure was standing there, next to the window, motionless, staring out at the darkness; his thoughts were interrupted by his lord’s commands. “General Myrwood, gather your men, I wish to address them!” The General, a war hardened ex-military man, bowing his head, “Yes my Lord.” he said and walked swiftly down the stairs.

It would have been quite a sight in any other part of the realm to see the group that had gathered in the Great Hall that night, but here, in these parts, it wasn’t. All the various races had been part of this group, then of followers, more recently as an army. Each race’s fighting specialties had been taught to all, the Elven’s stealth, the Human’s cunning, the Orc’s brutality, all forged together by one trait well-known in these parts…Discipline.

The general stood atop a platform at the far North end of the hall, watching as the last of his men gathered inside. “Settle down men, The Lord wishes to speak to you all.” The door opened, and there he was, a huge humanoid creature, 8 feet tall, with skin as red as blood, and eyes as cold as stone, stepped into the hall and headed towards the platform. It was Zoleer, a Gargoyle, the self proclaimed Lord of the Denizens of the Abyss, a once misfit clan of various men and women that at one time were living on the fringe of their respective societies, recruited in secret by others like them. Alone they had lived miserable lives, eking out a meager existence, but together, they had prospered. As word spread of the opportunity to improve their situation more and more were drawn to the group. But Zoleer had an ulterior motive to all of this, and the melting pot of cultures would benefit all the races, and more importantly, himself!

“The way is clear, the time has finally come, fate has opened the path and it is time to fulfill our destiny. You all know what is at stake and I expect each of you to serve the cause without hesitation” the Lord boomed. “I have provided a sanctuary in my homeland for you all allowing you to regain your dignity, your strength, and your confidence. You have all enjoyed prosperity being allowed to keep half of everything you have obtained and the rest going towards the treasury. Now it is time for all to serve the guild as we focus on the true cause that binds us together. Say nothing of this to outsiders as well as new recruits. As I have said to your respective leaders in the High Council, ALL races will benefit once we attain our goal.”

As the group sat and listened there were visible signs of uneasiness from a few members. Maybe they thought this time would never come, as they had not heard much about “The Cause” in recent months. Others might have joined just as a quick fix to their lives, etc… Others have heard the screams in the night from the towers atop the mountain directly above the settlement and wondered what was happening up there but were afraid to ask. They knew this “Cause” had something to do with it.

Sensing this uneasiness, the Lord spoke again. “If any of you are not comfortable with what we are about to embark on, then all you need to do is walk out that door.” A great silence fell on the hall as everyone looked around for any takers. Finally, someone rose and said, in a fragile tone “My Lord, I have indeed enjoyed your hospitality and the prosperity for myself and my family back home. I have contributed to the general fund as you have mandated. I would, however, like to return to my family as my wife is very ill. I am sorry my lord, I hope you can forgive me. “Of course lad, you have my forgiveness, I hope your wife’s suffering ends soon.” The Lord said in a somewhat compassionate voice and motioned to the door. The Elf walked through the crowd towards the door and was within 10 feet of it when he suddenly burst into flames and was reduced to a pile of ash on the floor. Mystic, the High Council member of the elves sat back down at the council table, closing her spell book. The lord looked down at her and with a small nod of approval looked back at the crowd and said, “Is there anyone else who feels they cannot fulfill their obligation to the guild?” There was no sound at all from the group. “Very well then, let us prepare.” He turned to Malek, High Council leader of the humans and whispered, “Go to the elf’s home and make sure his family suffers no more.” “Yes my Lord.” Malek said as he stood up. Looking at the still visibly stunned group, he pointed to 3 of the human warriors. “You, you, and you, come with me.” They left the hall and rode off.

Once again Lord Zoleer focused on the army before him and said, “Prepare to leave for Sosaria.“