Vashanesh – First of the Necrotechs

My eyes grew as I came out of the master's soul space. The way it enveloped me had been calming and invigorating. I was standing on top of a roof overlooking another, I suspected it was almost an abandoned warehouse or the like. Its size was such.

I looked to my side and saw lord Abhorash standing there next to our master. While I felt I was of a higher rank than the warrior I would never dare to think I was his better. His fate was to be enforced and granted more strength by the master. I heard the whispers of the master's ideas that came from his mind and felt a shudder of excitement run through me.

“I will leave all of my minions here to you Abhorash. Command them well and bring all of them back. This is Vashanesh, the hopefully soon to be high Necrotech of our forces.” The master said and when he mentioned me I felt elated. To think he had such high hopes for me, I’d have to make sure to live up to them.

“You will earn great rewards if this operation works.” The master then said to Abhorash before looking over to the warehouse and I saw the glint of anger in the master's eyes. I had felt it when he had commanded us to come back in the forest but it sent a surge of electricity up my spine. That was like the eyes of some conqueror who looked upon a stubborn fort in his path.

“I want all of them dead, interrogate them to know if there are any outside their hideout. Then I want you to do two things.” The master said as he handed me two spatial rings. “In one, you shall put their skin and flesh, the other their bones. Separate the flesh from their skin. Once all of you are done come up to the roof of the warehouse and have Dust pick you all up.” He then said as he slipped another ring onto the raven’s claw as it sat on his shoulder.

I looked behind me and saw all of the undead under the master's command, safe the pack of wolves. The ushabti as he called them stood guard around me, Lord Abhorash and the master. Their forms were imposing and ready to act at a moments notice. The Ironflesh ones even seemed to be very eager to commence combat. The master commanded us to make our plans and preparations before setting the place on fire right as we left.

Part of our preparations was to make sure the fire wouldn’t spread to the neighbouring houses and to take anything of value from the men inside.

I looked to the warehouse once more as the master left and if I could I most likely would sigh. At my birth, I had gotten what information the master wanted me to have, some he might not have wished and then more was supplied by the world itself. The images I had seen in his mind would scare a mortal. Vast hordes of flesh-hungry zombies overrunning any resistance to their path. A horde of skeletons with Ushabti made of black stone and grand statues of men and cats that towered over the battlefields as they went to work with fire and beams of light. Hordes of lizards that stood like men and their larger counterparts who seemed to be ridden as mounts.

Vampires in full-plate armour riding black horses made vampiric by their riders leading armies of the dead. Swarms of bats both small and the size of a man with devolved vampires with huge bat wings leading the charge. Great beasts of horrific proportions and size battling it out above the vast battlefields.

It was enough to make me shudder to think that my role would be to bring about the largest constructs in the masters coming forces. I felt honoured and intimidated by what was to come, thinking I had a slight peek at his plan for the traitorous Wolfsguard leaders and their goddess.

Abhorash went over everything, commanding the rouge and archer to move around the warehouse and scout the area before attacking. I felt that perhaps he got more of an insight into tactics and combat from both the world and masters mind upon his raising. He was careful and methodical.

I looked down upon my fingers and almost stroked the rings that the master had left with me. I was eager to see what these materials would be turned into or towards. The idea of what more materials could be turned towards with master as the mastermind or muse made a tingle of pleasure ring through my mind.

Abhorash walked up to stand next to me as he looked over the warehouse. “What can I expect from you in terms of combat Necrotech?” He asked me and I looked towards him.

“I’m afraid I am more of a crafter than a fighter, lord Abhorash. However, I am a necromancer as well so I could hopefully heal our forces before they are destroyed.” I responded and lowered my head to his great size. "If you could teach me something after you have decided on a course of action and some time is left I'd much appreciate it."

“Hm.” He acknowledged before turning his burning gaze towards the warehouse once more. “I’ll have to put the lesser Ushabti as your personal guard during this conflict. I hope you will gain strength from the conflict to come.” He then said and placed his large hand upon my shoulder, I almost fell over from that gentle touch of his.

My lower set of arms moved around a little before settling down. “I feel I’ll require a weapon.” I muttered a little to myself only to get a chuckle from the warrior. I shook my head a little before I noticed one of the Ironflesh Ushabti walk up to me and handed me his spear before another grew out of his hand as he stepped back. I bowed my head to him in thanks and then looked towards general Abhorash once more. “Well seems I have one now.” I chuckled before both of us left to listen to the scouts and to formulate our plans.

“I feel we should leave the archer at the back door we found to put down anyone fleeing.” The rouge said as he stood ramrod straight with his hands crossed over his chest. I had to admit the way master had made him was rather ingenious in my humble opinion. His secret bone rope weapons would really come in handy in both movement, stealth operations and combat.

While Abhorash listened to the report I felt claws come down on my shoulder and looked to see Dust staring at me. “I suppose you’ll be flying above until we need to… what was the word from masters mind again?” I said to him, pausing as I tried to remember the new words I had gained from masters mind upon my birth.

“Extraction.” A voice told me and I looked around in confusion, so too did most around me. We all looked around before seeing no one around. A tap upon the roof made us look to the iron flesh Ushabti that seemed to turn their spears into great bows, the arrows they conjured easily the size of a grown man’s leg.

I also noticed that they had absorbed the wood around them to do this.

Abhorash commanded the two along with the archer to go and have a good look at the warehouse to get any stragglers as the main force assaulted the warehouse.

I gripped the spear in my hand tightly as I looked towards the doors, feeling Dust fly up into the sky. A force of two lesser Ushabti, two living armours armed with sword and shield, two skeletal warriors, lead by Abhorash with me as back up then entered the warehouse. The screams of the men inside were few and brief.

Jarlath Bertilion - Night Queen Velrona’s confidant and Spy master of the Night court.

“Capable of creating a bloodline you say? And more than one? How is that even possible?” The man said as he looked from his chalice to his queen. He was dressed as a noble, with formfitting clothing of high quality and a coat that reached down to his knees to complete the ensemble. His black hair was slicked back to a small ponytail at the back with a small bow tying it together while his beard was short yet very well-groomed.

“I know, but it’s strange he might be able to make more than one.” Velrona sighed as she lay upon the bench sofa. Her black dress doing wonders for her figure with the fur half cloak around her shoulders and upper torso only adding to the effect. “I was just as surprised when we felt the spark inside him. I had thought it would be gone after such a long time.” She said wistfully.

“Spark?” Jarlath asked with a raised eyebrow, he had never heard of his mistress speaking of something like that. The gesture of not to ask she gave him only served to increase his curiosity.

“And then Sutekh had to put out that stupid idea of his.” She grumbled.

Jarlath sighed internally, his mistress had a tendency to go on a tangent which left him in the dust in his attempted comprehension of what she was talking about. “He proposed an idea?” Jarlath simply asked.

“Yes for us to pull him into our domain when he’s asleep so we can train him.” She said before snatching a goblet from the table next to her and draining it in one gulp.

“Wouldn’t that only work better in your favour?” He asked with a little smile.

Verlona glared hard at him. “Yes and no. If we train him he will be a force to be reckoned with but our interference will be clear. We are the only ones who know how to reach the classes that Sutekh wanted him to reach. I didn’t even teach you how to become a shadow master.” She said with clear annoyance lacing her voice.

“A conundrum indeed mam.” Jarleth said gently, hiding his internal fury at his mistress. He was the spymaster of her night court, he would be so much better at his job if he was a shadow master. Then again he had little true loyalty to the demigod before him. She was the progenitor of the shade spire vampire bloodline and as a member of that bloodline, he simply acted as expected.

“You have no idea.” She groaned. “Then again I feel almost scared of him. The way he thinks is so different from others in this world, maybe not O’Malley as he’s a barrel of crazy in his own right.” She grumbled a little more as she sat up.

“But then again, if we train him then perhaps he will achieve his goal. Then we might ask him to do what we wished to have him do in turn.” She said smirking a little as she rubbed her chin. “Jarlath! I want you to scour the court. I want no one left that has any intent to increase their rank or is scheming something that could mess with my coming plans.” She ordered before snapping her fingers and became shrouded in shadow. Disappearing all together.

Jarlath had bowed to her before he sucked on his teeth. Such a command was too annoying, it would throw his own plans out of order. He left Verlona’s chambers and growled. This upstart would make his own bloodline? And possibly several? Impossible, rather it shouldn’t come to pass. The Shadespire, Armeniai, Heliri and Schiefer bloodlines were more than enough thank you very much. With the four night courts already fighting amongst themselves with Shadespire being the only one still with their progenitor giving them an edge.

Acish was the northern most continent of Astarune and was already home to both the Shadespire and Heliri bloodlines with the other two fighting over Eikusuth, the largest of the four continents. Jarlath then remembered the agents he had sent to the two archipelagos, he had yet to hear from them. Then again the vampires stayed far away from Imerith after the great purge left three bloodlines extinct with two almost on the brink who disappeared soon after.

Jarlath stopped in his tracks, halfway down a staircase in the castle. A smile came to his mind as an idea began to hatch. “Perhaps it might work.” He said to himself as he turned and ran up the staircase to one of the tallest spires.

Once there he flew open the door and looked at the old mortal who kept the messenger birds. “I have need of your fastest bird!” He almost roared before going to the chamber next door where he wrote up instructions for one of his agents.

Once that was done he handed the sealed letter over and glared at the mortal. “Make sure this goes to the Black Corsairs at the Ice vale.” He said almost angrily to the man who nodded frantically as he shook from fright.

With that done, Jarlath went on to his private chambers and began to go over his trinkets. Taking out a glass vial with a vampire skull as it’s stopper. Putting it to his wrist he almost flinched when it bit into his wrist and drank deeply. Filling up the vial he then placed it into a small pouch with two small sending stones.

Then he went on to gather up a good amount of gold to pay the black corsairs for what he had in mind for them.

He smiled as he looked at the dagger upon his dresser. The blade was split down the middle and looked more like two large needles that came together at the hilt of the dagger. Taking it up he turned it around and opened the end of the pommel.

Slipping the vial inside it he then placed the specialized sheath over it and put it into the satchel along with the gathered payment.

Once that was over he took out another set of sending stones and bound the two, placing one on a pillow at his desk while the other went into the satchel. A soft buzzing from one of his desk’s drawers made Jarlath pause.

Taking it out he looked at the small orb that was shaking a little. Picking it up he looked into it and smirked as he saw the black armoured helmet peering right back through the orb.

“Ah, Captain Seabinder. I see I won’t be required to send my messenger to you.” He said with a smile as the armoured helmet simply looked at him.

“Lord Bertilion.” The man said nodding his head. “I was simply calling to see if the Shadespire had any job for my corsairs. I seem to have contacted you at the right time.” The man’s voice was deep yet smooth, as with many of the Dökk Alfar who lived on the continent.

“I do in fact. There is an upstart in Imereth, a member of your own race in fact. His goals are unimportant but know that if they come to fruition our lives will become rather…. troublesome and much harder for our operations in Imerith’s vicinity.” Jarlath said with annoyance in his tone but Seabinder simply looked at him.

“I want you to go to the northern lands of Imerith and figure out how to get this upstart and I have some other tasks for you, come to me.” Jarlath ordered and Seabinder simply nodded his assent.

O’Malley – Vanghoul king and devourer of the sinful.

Far away upon a large bell tower of a church overlooking a city he sat. A hot dog in one hand and a coke bottle in the other. He looked down at the people and cars moving around as the lights filled the night sky.

The Vanghoul wore a baggy set of cargo pants with a baggy hoody. He came here to relax, to think and to plan. He hadn’t thought his plans had actually come so far yet they also all teetered on the brink. His people, the Vanghouls, were on the brink. Whereas Ghouls were nothing more than savages without any clear mind to them Vanghouls had the mind of a mortal man within a body slightly stronger. Yet for all their gifts they required flesh to consume, whereas their lesser brethren only needed the marrow of bones to gnaw on from time to time. Though their hunger would never dull, no matter how much they ate.

He sighed as he leaned back against the tower. The boy’s home was beautiful in its own way, though O’Malley did find Imerith and the other continent better looking. Perhaps he was biased as that was his homeworld. He looked into the nearly starless sky, the light pollution dimming the stars of the night sky.

He exhaled, watching his breath mist out before he finished the last of his hot dog and replaced it with a cigar. A quick snip of his claw took off the very tip and leaving it lit in the wake of the red glowing claw. A deep inhale drew the cigar into full bloom before the smoke almost filled the hood over O’Malley’s head.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered out into the night as a melancholy mood settled over him. He remembered his lord, the strider in the void. He had been magnificent. Tall and with an athletic build yet longer limbs than was right, the pitch-black skin with those clawed fingertips. The inky smoke that oozed off him and the featureless head. And finally, the crown, red gemstone arrayed in a three-horned crown that hovered a short distance above his head.

With a mere wave of his hand he could raise armies of undead, he had fathered the vampire race. Created the ancient secrets of necromancy now lost with his death almost ten thousand years ago. All because the gods grew ambitious and stupid.

O’Malley’s teeth ground almost to the point of snapping the cigar in half. Aona and her little gang, Mursim and Ashurian. Those were the ones he wished to punish, they had put the balance of the world in jeopardy with their ill-advised actions. Had his lord not had O’Malley and the others to pick up his task, death would have almost lost all meaning. Roaming undead would become much more frequent than the occasional and very rare times such things happened without the interference of a necromancer or death knight.

“All because of power.” He spat as he took the cigar from his mouth and set it ablaze, watching the short-lived flame devour the cigar before the ashes drifted on the pleasant wind as it swept by.

The other gods had kept to themselves, unwilling to become targets of their own against those three as they tried to garner as much land and followers as they could. It was all petty and it was now clear to him that those three no longer represented what they were supposed to. Especially Aona who was to be justice incarnate had taken up that despicable hero summoning tactic of hers, always the same type of soul, always destroying it after it’s used was over.

O’Malley suspected if they hadn’t seen the spark within the boy’s soul they’d have let him fade away like the others.

But that spark. That wondrous spark.

How O’Malley had felt glee when he saw the boy for the first time. How he seemed so oblivious to what lay within him. How the boy’s greed had left the entire council with an almost blank surprise though they then laughed about it. It was true that they had never told him he couldn’t take everything and that alone granted him power he didn’t even realize. Yet.

Standing up O’Malley breathed in the air to fill his lungs before letting it go and disappearing in a light flicker and small puff of smoke.

Landing in his throne within the realm of the dead he leaned back and took a swig of the coke bottle still in his other hand. He looked around and smirked. He was the first to arrive. Tonight was the night they would decide if they would interfere and teach the boy or if they left him to his own fate and would only watch from the sidelines.

O’Malley snickered a little. He was the trickster in this pantheon so whatever they would decide he’d still try and sneak in a few lessons for the boy. Hopefully, he could at least steer him on the right path without the other gods noticing.

It was safer, after all, to drag the boy’s consciousness to their realm while he slept. It wouldn’t tip their plan off to the other gods and their pantheons. It would also be a much safer manner to safeguard the boy and the spark within him.

The way he thought and tried new things all the time intrigued O’Malley to no end. He himself had tried to test what his skills could and couldn't do but somehow he felt this boy took it a step further. Combining and trying out combinations without realizing what he was doing. It was so wonderfully morbid and curious.

O’Malley’s thoughts stopped when he noticed Velrona appear in her own throne. “I see you’ve arrived.” He said cordially and smirked at the vampiress. She only looked at him and then sighed almost exasperated.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to make me teach him how to become a shadow master.” She said almost angrily, O’Malley could understand why. After all, the strider in the void had taught her to gain that class with the express order to never impart it upon another.

“Well, I can at least ask you to teach him to use his shadowmancer class to its fullest potential right?” He asked with a placating smile, as he looked to her.

“I suppose I can do that much.” She sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp.

“Though tell me, what do you think of the boy’s plan?” He asked which drew her attention.

“You mean his idea of going north to build his own kingdom to wage war upon Wolfsguard?” She asked and got a nod in return. “I find it a good idea, Wolfsguard is Aona’s little pet project and we all know the end goal of that project. Letting her watch in impotent rage as it burns around her chosen champions would make a lovely sight. Especially since she brought the instrument of her destruction to this world herself. Poetic I think.” She said with a wicked smile on her lips.

“I’d say ironic personally.” O’Malley retorted as he looked at Velrona. “You’ll teach him his vampiric talents right?” He asked with a little concern in his voice which made the vampire queen raise an eyebrow at that. “What can I say? I like the kid and I want to see him grow as strong as possible, though perhaps we should make him send a preparatory force ahead of him?” The Vanghoul said as he leaned back smiling.

Valrona's eyes grew wide. 'Seems she's thinking she has caught the tail of my plans... how cute.' O'Malley thought with a toothy smirk.

Ragnar Stephenwolf – Grand General of Wolfsgarde.

His steps were heavy as he walked through his keeps halls. He was angry, his son had come back wounded in mind and his… no she wasn’t his daughter. He had raised her as his own but he knew better. Marion, that smirking snake had bedded his wife and she was the result.

It grated on his nerves to think of his wife’s infidelity but he couldn’t stay mad at her. She was the love of his life after all, though he wouldn’t let her forget how she had hurt him any time soon. Even after almost nineteen years since the affair.

He pushed the double doors open and walked into the room. His son stood inside his office and looked at his father with a strange expression. It had been hard for Ragnar when he had betrayed Robert. He had hoped that to name his firstborn son after the brave young man would help ease his conscience. That outside of the bloody confusion, noise, wrath and mindless fury of the battlefield didn’t have to be his only solace. He moved silently, heavy footsteps filling the silence between father and son.

The chair creaked under the muscle-bound bulk of Ragnar’s frame as he sat down. His eyes seemed both razor-focused yet also far, far away in some world that Robert couldn’t follow. “Father?” Robert began looking at his father who seemed to shake himself back to the moment.

“I’m sorry Robert. The campaign for Midburg port was a… tough one.” He said as he rubbed at the horrid scar that left the upper left side of his face a nasty scar. In return for his failure for bringing Midburg port under Wolfsguard control the first time. Amelia didn’t take failure lightly for the last decade. Her beauty had turned from the young woman with the right curves yet the youthful innocence of a virgin to the hard-faced mature woman she was now. That puppet she had married to gain the alliance with Aurcourt a simple-minded fool who she had wrapped around her thumb. She was indeed a chosen of Aona. Two-faced and manipulative.

“So You’ve redeemed yourself in the eyes of the empress then?” Robert asked almost innocently, he didn’t know the empress other than the kind aunt persona she put on for Ragnar’s children. Yet the boy wasn’t dumb enough not to take the stern woman he saw in public and during court events.

Ragnar seemed to half-heartedly nod before sighing heavily as he looked at the map rolled out over his desk. “Not fully, I have to take Thevalean within two years to do that.” He said. The almost thirty years of military service left the fifty-year-old man’s hair white and short-cropped with one side completely shaved, the impressive beard of his youth shortened to a small fuzzy white film that covered his lower face. He kept the “Viking style” as best he could while still coming on like a gentleman of the court. It was his own little homage to a dear friend he had been forced to betray at the behest of his Goddess, Empress, and his duty to his people.

“You’ll be leaving again then? Can I join the other knights this time instead of scouting missions and this espionage that saint Malgrave asks of me? The meeting with the necromancer made me feel… vulnerable almost. Like he knew me and everything about me at a glance. He even said he had spoken to Robert before the old king of Roira’s curse destroyed his soul.” He said with a sad smile. “He made it sound as if the soul was raving over the betrayal of injustice done to him but the story I heard from you and mother were that he died at the altar of the cathedral, an accepting smile on his lips at the service he had rendered us.” Robert’s words made Ragnar stiffen.

“What was this necromancer’s name?” He asked, his eyes growing a little hard with a spark of something new within them.

“Arkhan, I believe.” Robert answered, oblivious of what was going on inside his fathers head.

Morice – Greatest apprentice (only and self-proclaimed) of Vlad von Carstein.

He sat at the table as he looked over the guards that were talking to Aldis and Leila about the incident. He couldn’t believe Jonah had been so callous. The young man had always been a kind and righteous one, not even allowing a legitimate tax collector treat others as he had let this money lenders one do. Something was wrong with him, his eyes had been hollow somehow.

He sighed and rubbed along his strange ears, his mix of Changeling and Dökk Alfar heritage left his ears as if they were like a Dökk Alfars only made stubby and then stretched, almost the same yet off to how they should be at the same time. He thought bitterly of the only ability he had gained from his father, the Changeling. The ability to be the same as a monster. He had a rank and a race, the hallmark of those not of the civilized races.

He could evolve as he reached some threshold, growing monstrous with each change. He had limited himself to warrior and Necromancer as his classes. He had wanted to be a necromancer after hearing the story of the Necroshade, how a human had become such a monster. So why not could he, a monster, become something great and remembered too… Right?

He had been drawn to Arkhan when he saw him approach his meagre stall in the black market. No not Arkhan, Vlad. He seemed so confident, the way he moved despite being in the guise of an old elf almost done in by gout. Hunched over and letting out hacking coughs every so often yet still radiated power and this air of being so sure of himself. In his own power and his own skill.

It made Morice envy Vlad, even more, when he found out he was such an easy-going man, who had shown kindness to a slave girl at what seemed like a mere whim. He still had that confidence to him yet when being himself it was like some dark surety, some work he knew would brand him as a monster that he knew had to be done.

“To kill a god eh?” Morice muttered to himself as he made sure no one went up to Akasha’s room to question the girl. She was an innocent, something he felt as if Vlad wished to give back to her, perhaps he saw something of himself in her and had decided to steer her off his path or a worse one. The man confounded Morice if he was honest with himself. Happy and easy to get along with one moment, hard-eyed and threatening the next. He still got a shiver down his spine at Vlad’s warning of not betraying him.

It sent an icy chill down his spine, he had been a moment from reaching over and ripping his throat out, Morice was sure of it. Then he had shown how to use skills to their fullest. When learning the warrior’s craft he had been taught to time his striking skills to their maximum usage never to try new things with the skill.

The way Vlad had moulded and shaped the bones to such curious shapes and how he seemed to be fond of these almost vampiric dried out corpse look to his skeletons. He hadn’t even heard that some materials could be drawn into the very being of raised minions. How his guiding hand when working those corpses had felt right, insightful even.

He rubbed the storage ring he had on his left index finger with his thumb. His pack, the first he’d ever raised and enhanced with Vlad’s help were inside it. He smiled fondly at the ring. He hadn’t even thought of trying to use two skills together in such a manner, Vlad had called it synergy… didn’t he?

He shook his head and looked up as a small commotion started at the front of the inn. Vlad had returned. He’d only been gone for barely half an hour and the guards already thought he had gone and wrecked the gang's hideout.

“If I had, I’d be covered in their blood right about now.” Vlad answered so brazenly and coolly to the accusation the guard had made that it shocked Morice and the guard equally. “I went there and paid this ridiculous debt they had forced upon those two and made sure they wouldn’t bother them again.” He said simply as he moved past the flabbergasted guard who just started and almost babbled at him. They were used to respect, out of fear, obligation or true, it didn’t matter from where it came they expected to respect. Not what Vlad had shown them, contempt.

Morice joined his teacher as he explained everything to the father and daughter who owned the inn and got a grateful smile from Aldis and a tight hug from Leila for his troubles. He only wanted to get free food and alcohol in moderation as his reward. A reward that Morice soon was also sharing in as the four had a hearty meal in celebration.

Three hours later – midnight.

Morice stared in awe at Vlad, the man had told him of the last five years of his life. How he came from another world, had taken up the name of Robert. The Robert, the hero of Wolfsguard and how they treated him after his final victory over Roira’s king. How he had awoken once more in the body he had now and how he came to Bedelev. After hearing of his goals for the north and his war with Wolfsguard he had planned, Morice had suspected there was some bad blood between the two but now? He realized that Vlad was entirely justified in his goals, at least in his mind and Morice, while feeling it wasn’t so justified to the people of the empire, could hardly argue with Vlad.

“Some Goddess of justice huh?” He finally said with a snarky tone before he downed half of his fresh flagon of mead. They sat on the roof of the inn, having taken chairs outside along with a small keg to talk without being interrupted or worry about being overheard.

The twin moons providing them with plenty of light to see.

“Damn, that is… quite the story.” Morice said trailing off as he began to nurse his own flagon and turned his gaze to the city before them. It was almost too fantastic to believe and yet he still felt there had been parts he had left out. Perhaps he was showing Morice some trust, and that he had to truly earn the rest to know everything in full.

He then realized he intended it all while being a good father to Akasha, or at least attempting it. Vlad chuckled at his answer and leaned into his chair.

“So with all that going on. You still intend to raise a family? Won’t that be hard?” Morice then asked into the silence between them.

Vlad began to chuckle a little and the strange look from Morice made him explain. “Depends on how close they're buried.” He said and the two looked at one another before both started to laugh heavily.

Not noticing the sudden sparking blaze out in the distance. A warehouse of some sort, who’s gutted ruins could be seen the next day. The heavy smoke had left the morning a dull affair with full pregnant grey clouds hanging over everything. The clouds so close they might as well be lowering smoke. The people hadn’t even seen what the heavy smoke and cloud cover had hidden from approaching as close as it did to the city. Though they would know later in the middle of the day.