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[NightShade]

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Nightshade chuckled reading over one of the banners she had lifted from Jhelom. She smiled noting each name upon it. Willow, the child of Grief and Despair would bring her message unto this realm and shining she would stand as a beacon against those that heralded the beliefs of Oblivion and gave Necromancers everywhere a bad name.

As for Tyranis, Her prized son, she could only say that like his Father, as well as his Grandfather , tactics swelled within his blood. The Art of War was something in the ab'Arawn nature, and the fierce ruthlessness of the Strathmore's only egged it on. It was irony that Mairsil's own grandson now stood so prominently against the Order.

She was certain though that both Willow and Tyranis did this with a smile on their lips.

Her cold eyes drifted once more over the banner finally resting upon Enoch's name then traveling to Terra's. The best part of this was, she new alot about them, but they new little to nothing of what they dealt with.

Well I don't need the money, but what sort of mother doesn't lend a helping hand.....

She rose to pen a letter to one who had cast off the shackles and puppetry of Oblivion. One who had shut himself in study since the capture of Darrien and his Philactory...

She began:

To My Teacher, Barl Del'Abreago.....
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Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...