Sir Drevan
Sir Drevan and Aesa return from one of his many patrols tired and hungry. The open gate beckons, lit torches set in sconces to either side of the raised portcullis against the darkening sky. Approaching more closely, Drevan wonders why no guards stand at his approach.
Sir Drevan spurs his steed, concerned, when he hears cries and screams from inside. He rides forward, Aesa asking what is the matter from behind. Just before the gate, he recognizes an almost-formless mound as Jenald, a guardsman and long-time friends. A long rut runs over his middle, crushing mail, flesh, and bone alike into the ground. The bloody print of a shod hoof decorates his crushed forehead.
Suddenly a dark mist bellows out of the dark opening in front. Streaming as if driven by a thousand winds, the mist quickly obscures all sight. Drevan and Aesa are almost knocked down by a large black carriage shepherded by the mist out of the castle. Clinging onto an open door is Drevan's cousin, Thale, bleeding from dozens of long gashes in his face and un-armored arms. Barely visible in the doorway is a pale woman dressed in black, carrying a small bundle - obviously a child - in one hand while trying to shut the door with the other.
A whip lashes back from the driver's seat of the carriage, lashing with a cruel barbed tip at Thale's face. He lets go, tumbling in the wake of the carriage, screaming "Nathan," the name of his new-born son. The door slamsshut.
Only as the door shuts do Drevan and Aesa realize that until then an eerie, wailing female voice had drifted through their skulls, saying - Not mine no not how long mine has it not mine been so long since Jonny my first those Sisters my first but no my the Three why this oh damn you damn you Three I am Sisters I am damned myself . . .
Drevan charges after, following the carriage, followed closely by Aesa. Aesa uses her powers, again and again trying to dispel any magical forces powering the dark coach, without any noticeable effect. Drevan uses all his skill to drag further speed from his steed, finally closes in on the steed. He musters his strength for a final leap onto the coach.
The barbed whip strikes out again, aiming at the horse. Pulling hard on the reins, Drevan steers his steed out of the path of the sharp barbed tipped, only to see a back-draw of braided cord strike his horse's chest. It whinnies and rears. Drevan fights to control his mount, wrapping one arm around its think neck for balance and gripping hard with his knees. He watches in dismay as the coach drove away.
Drevan and Aesa quickly realize that they are in a strange land - murky marshland surrounds them, broken up by a few small plots of farmland. They hear the coach clattering in the distance, towards a small town. They follow as quickly as possible through the dispersing mist, and see a dwarf, a half-orc and a human standing in an otherwise empty street in a small town, They are about 50 feet away.
