Bonfires litter the valley, punching holes in the darkness that envelopes the Kindred fortress. Sentries watch from atop the battlements, their keen eyes scanning for any sign of movement out there in the twisted mess of weeds and dead trees at the edge of the Sarodor wasteland. A single bell tolls the arrival of midnight. Voices murmur and the battlements buzz with activity as the sentries step away from the walls, stretching their backs and resting their weary eyes, exchanging short but pleasant greetings with the new shift of orcs who take their place. "Nice night," Captain Margull says, yawning and looking up at the star-filled, cloudless sky. "Yes, sir," says Yetyk, stretching. "Still, too. Not a breath of wind." "Anything to report?" "Nothing, sir," says Yetyk. He glances out at the line of bonfires stretching out into the darkness before them. "The only thing moving out there are bonfires-" The tiny yellow light at the far end of the valley goes dark. "What?" Margull asks. "The...the furthest bonfire, sir," Yetyk says, his neck craned forward, his eyes straining against the darkness. "It just went out." Margull turns to look for himself. At that very moment, the speck of light re-appears. Margull relaxes his shoulders. "Never mind. It was probably just-" The light takes on a sudden green tinge. Then it flickers, flares up momentarily...and dies. Blackness grips the far end of the valley. Margull feels the fear crawling up his spine from the pit of his stomach. He remembers the feeling of sheer terror in the tunnel under the Necromancer's tower. The moaning. The gurgling. The disquieting sound of bone scraping against bone. The blackness. As he watches, a second bonfire turns green then disappears. The breath catches in Margull's throat. "Sound the alarm," he tells Yetyk, his voice barely more than a croak. Yetyk nods and dashes toward the centre of camp. Margull heaves a heavy sigh. And as he readies his bow, and as the third bonfire goes black, and as the Kindred bell rings its crazy, peace-shattering alarm, he finally finds his voice. "Look sharp! Prepare for battle!" he cries to the archers on either side of him. "The dead have arrived!" Credits: Orc and clothing textures by Ghostofmacbeth Stars made using Universe Image Creator Posed in Poser 6 Rendered in Carrara 5