Role

Chapter 4

Bloodied, battered but alive. The Scions had laid siege to the Fortress.
Their various snares, spells and shapeshifting claws had done their damage
but the Squires spirit remained. As the sun crawled over the mountains and
their nightwalkers dispersed into the mist they fled into the darkness as
suddenly as they came.

Herethon stood there, trembling with anger, it gripped his bones and
shuddered down the lengths of his spine. Suddenly he felt the urge to fly,
casting aside his human form for that of the vulture he hurtled into the sky,
his feathery wings absorbing the rays of the sun as he drifted over Hamsah
Mutazz.Suddenly on the horizon a form appeared, haunting yet familiar.
Herethon felt the blazing heat spilling forth from this creature, even the
desert winds seem cool compared to the righteous fury of this beast. As the
phoenix passed over him he was awash with new purpose, that of a Maran.

He felt the clarion call beckon him to slay the darkness. To dive on prey at
any given moment, redemption was offered, but never taken. The Field
Marshall of the Elysium was right, no quarter. Ever.