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You stand there in open mouthed awe, drool slipping down the left side of your jaw, basking in the golden glow of the precious metals, the walls around you flickering with light reflected from the sconces hanging all around the room, chests stuffed full of gold.

You'd think after coming across piles of treasure on more than one occasion that you'd be in less awe of seeing gold stacked up so high like small mountains, but it never truly ceases to amaze you. It was like a goblin treating themselves to some fresh meat after years of eating dry desiccated flesh, it was simply breath taking.

Half entranced by it's beauty, you lurch towards the chest at the center of it all, when all of a sudden it occurs to you that this has all been ar too easy, all your struggles, all your trials, and in the end here you were, with what you desired most in the world, and yet there was absolutely nothing to guard it.

Boots echo dully in the passageway behind you, urging you to hurry, but again you hesitate at taking another step. Daedalus his voice frayed with urgency cries out, "Open it! Open it now!" His frustration and longing bubbling over inside of you as he all but screams at you to open chest. But everything just doesn't seem to make any sense. An unguarded side passage, your easy escape from the Magelords, and the way the chest was positioned right in front of you, within easy reach, it was, it was just all so convenient, and if there was anything you'd learned from adventuring out in this world of yours, nothing on Coroleya was ever easy.

Which meant it had to be a trap. Didn't it? It looked like a trap. It felt like a trap, and yet reasons you cannot divine Daedalus refuses to believe that it was trap. Though to say the former mage was is in the right frame of mind to make that call was indeed questionable. His need to be re-united with the missing parts of him was strong, so strong you could almost taste his hunger at being so close.

By a bellow-heart's puke were you simply overthinking this? After all the dark mages could not possibly know what you were after right? But even as you move to reach out your hand, you hesitate once more, footsteps thudding louder and louder.

You scan the room for signs of a trap, anything to ease your suspicions, but again you see nothing that would make you think it was a trap, unless that was how that was supposed to make you think, maybe there being no hints of a trap, made it a trap or was this itself supposed the trap? You thinking yourself in circles with guards closing in rapidly. God's how you envy those simple minded hobs who only ever cared about two things hunting, and mating. You think you'd rather enjoy that, better than this indecision.

5. Do you sweep the room with fireballs? (I didn't want to mention this to you earlier, but it does seem like you like to burn things a lot, and I mean a lot. You know there are pyros anonymous groups out there that can help you with that problem.)

Ignoring any tactical approach, you raise up your arms to let loose a storm of fire, when your entire body is frozen in place, the treasure horde vanishing before your very eyes to be replaced with a gloomy throne room. The seat made of a huge granite carved skull with a inhuman figure seated upon it. Black smoke swirling all around him, his face rotted off all flesh, ears slightly pointed backwards and bony arms caressing a blackened staff.

With a voice that rasped like iron chains, the figure spoke, his voice echoing around the vast empty chamber. "It seems Sarsonel has at last chosen a worthy champion to bear her banner. A somewhat ingenious plan I would, though I fail to see how this would solve your problem. Your road should end here, but unlike my foolish brethren outside I'm intrigued by you. You've achieved much and more, and in so little time, and yet I sense your path is not yet fixed. You could yet play a role in my lord's victory. So tell me warrior, what brings you to my lands."

For a brief moment you consider lying, but let out a laugh at that, if this was who you think it was, it wouldn't really matter in the end. He would simply kill you and extract the knowledge from your soul.

Ignoring Daedalus protests, you reply back, "I'm here for the missing pieces of Daedalus' soul."

Volemar's lips cracked into a thin smile. "Are you now? Well isn't that most interesting. I had wondered how you were able to cast such spells, I should have realised that the devious orc would have had a hand in all of this. Heed my warning and do not trust him, though I don't expect you to believe my words, only know that I have faced Daedalus before and he can be a most ruthless enemy when provoked. But I suppose that no longer matters to me anymore. As for what you seek, I fear you are too late warrior, an agent of Tazrael has already taken possession of the chest and is already on his way back to Caldasher."

Though a part of you already knows the answer, you ask, "Who?"

"A minotaur who calls himself Bone eyes, a strange name for one of his kind, but it does seem to fit the warrior well enough."

With the crashing realization that you had come here for nothing, you slump forward in your bonds, the only thing keeping you upright the magic that grips your body. Everything you'd sacrificed to reach this point, all of it for nothing.

"It seems I may have misjudged you after all, I'd hoped for a warrior of much greater resolve,"derided the mage with a throaty laugh.

Eyes flaring hotly with unbridled rage, blood boiling in your veins, you struggle to move with every fiber of your being, snarling like a captured beast baying for blood, furious and hungry for retribution. The dark mage flashing a delighted smile before clapping his hands together. The world becoming a blinding white, his voice whispering in your ear. "I give you my Tower warrior, and command of my own personal guard to use as you wish. I'm curious to see what path you will take and how far you will go, farewell warrior. I look forward to watching you."

Battlefield Results

None

Loot

Gained Tower of Lord Volemar

Gained Army of Darkness

(You've been given command over Lord Volemar's Army, made up 1,000 Demon Blades, five hundred Dark Mages, 3,000 trained slave guards that will act as the backbone of your army, and 500 goblin skirmishers. The battles to come will see if you emerge victorious or weeping.)