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[Deacon Drake]

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Steel Skye shifted uncomfortably in his perch, the knot in the tree poking into his scarred back. Sitting through the night, watching the mysterious Meer race tend to their town from a recent brigand attack, he pondered what has become of this reflection in the Gem of Immortality that they call Ilshenar. What crime has man committed that the gods send this new scourge down on man, these new champions, or paragons, of evil. At the moment he could not tell who was worse, the dark forms of the archetypical creatures or the people who seek them out and kill them for a few extra coins.

He had almost fallen asleep when the sound of hooves broke his concentration. He looked around but nothing was to be seen. Probably another ki-rin wandering, he thought. He was almost asleep when he heard the shriek. That is no ki-rin. After years of study in this facet of the world, he recognized the shuddering breath of a nightmare instantly. In a matter of seconds, his axe was in his hand, ready to move. He couldn't quite place the location but he heard the shrill cry come from somewhere in the north. Steel had never felt so fortunate as to be behind the giant Yew tree north of the city. He peered around the thick trunk, looking for his quarry, all the while thinking, or am I the quarry?

When he finally saw the beast, he was relieved to see a person riding it. Damned tamers. Why would any person mount such an abomination? The person atop the jet-black steed was about medium height, medium build, nothing intimidating about his shape. He wore not hat, no visible armor, only a dark robe and cloak to cover what armor he could be wearing underneath. No matter, the glint of light shining off the ring was a dead giveaway. Mage. The dark figure began to ride toward the city, and his face came into view. Something about that face struck Steel as familiar.

He settled back against the tree, relieved to finally get some sleep. As he leaned against the tree, the knot poked him in the back once again. The massive scar on his back ached from the several nudges in the night, the burn of a single spell never healing. Damn you, Dreamer... Damn y--

His head snapped up with a sudden thought. It can't be! He peered around the tree again. The dark hair, the goatee, the pentragram-shaped tatoo... Dear God...

The man he saw on the nightmare was a perfect likeness of the mage who betrayed him years ago. The nightmare was an improvement, Steel wondered if the Dreamer had finally acquired the ability to control beasts.

Thoughts ran through his head at immense speeds. What should I do? Who do I tell? Should I stay and fight? Should I risk being killed this time? Steel was an honorable warrior, but a fool he is not. He could take on the evil of this man and a nightmare separate, but together was certain death. As the mage began to charge toward the city, Steel put his back to the tree, ignoring the pain of the spell-cast burn on his back, a large scar in the form of a pentagram. For remembrance, Dreamer had said. As he rode by, dust was cast upward and the steed's hooves barely missed Steel's hand.

After the mage was out of sight, Steel packed his things and ran. He knew only one place to go. The haven of all adventurers - the Crossroads Tavern.
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