::The black wind howls and a figure shrouded in cloak appears at the guild:: The figure speaks not to anyone in particular, but more to himself then anyone else, relaying his thoughts aloud.

"It seem's I have come too late. The battle is already over. The winds have not carried me swiftly enough. The air was ominous and I did not think it was important. I was too busy with my own concerns. Now. Now my family has paid the price and I am too late and weak to do anything about it. Never again. Never."

::With that the cloaked figure takes out his battlemage rune dagger and grips it with his bare palm. Then slices his hand open. He whispers a soft incantation then throws the dagger at the guild wall in between a couple of runes and the blood from the dagger runes inbetween the walls and runes making them give off a strange glow. He slows walks over and puts his hand on of the runes and the rune closes the wound and scars his hand shut::

"With this act I am now bound by my own magik, hounor, and blood. Whenever my brothers and sisters need me. All ye have to do is think of help. And the magic in the runes and my blood will tell me to come. Whatever it is...whatever you need. I promise. I promise I will be there and help...no matter what the cost."

::With that the figure takes one hand and feels the wind. Feeling its call. Its call of destiny. Disgraced by not being able to help. The wind tells him to prove his worth. The wind howls again from a northerly direction. Which is where the cloaked man now heads::


Student of Benjuk,
Zargoth Pegasian
Clan Cresent Moon