The Emerald tower rose above the rest of the city like a swisted spire to heaven. Gleaming in the radiant sun, you would never guess what lingered inside, its beautiful exterior belied its malignant intent. Once the seat of the Chorian kings of ages past, the first men from across the sea, it had long been a place of beauty and wonder. Since the demise of the dynasty, and the rise of the Reprites, the glorious history was shattered and laid low with villainous treachery.

A figure stood glaring, his gaze like steel, onto the tower in the distance, as if in challenge to its authority and might. Cold grey eyes met polished green, and who would win none knew naught. The figure was hooded and cloaked to protect both from sight and the elements. Under this was a short shirt of ring mail and several small puches strung from his broad intricate belt. He bore a short and long sword, both simply wrought, but well made. This simple garb had only a single exception, the inside of his cloak, which was as black as obsidian and patterned with white silk so skillfully that you would assume only a man of great wealth or ability could wear it. Quickly he detached himself from the corner wall where he stood and went swiftly across an open courtyard lined with snow dusted trees.

In the corner of the yard, thirty men sat crouched, awaiting the return of their master. Each face told a different story, of triumph, of horror, and of sadness. Weary but determined, they were a band who had once been great men, but fate had a different path laid out for them all. As he came into view, they tensed, seeing his cold eyes lit with a glitter that has not been seen in many a year.  

He gestured silently and they huddled around him, awaiting his orders. Though most were much older than him, they listened as intently as children do when being told a great story by their father. "Now is our time, we have been long in exile, suffered terribly, and our people brought low by the tyrants who now rule our world. Long have we planned, and now it is up to us. Every man remember his duty, let nothing cloud your judgment. Once we are inside, we light the signal, and secure the door. Once they are destracted, we make our way to the top. If the gods are willing, we few will be victorious."

At this, he gestured with his hand towards a side portal leading into the city via a secret way long since forgotton. The journey in would take them long into the night, and each step would mimic the lives they had once lead. Each step further into the darkeness, and then enveloped completely. At the end of the tunnel their was a light. A small luminencence, one barely seen, but if roused and awakened, would ignite into a great conflagration. A new Age.

"They would not fail" he thought to himself as he led them into the narrow, broken stone aperture.

They could not.

~Jared