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Morguerat
Morguerat settled into the earth, feeling the coolness of it through the illfitting armor. He closed his eyes to meditate when he felt something, a crying from the grave, or beyond.
DOOM!
With a start the former knight jolted, his eyes scanning wildly for the cause of the call. Seeing no one else reacting, and hoping he hadn't drawn undue attention to himself he closed his eyes again, searching out the cause of the chill that had entered his old wounds making them ache as they had not done since the Windbringer had purged Larry's poison from him. There was silence once again. The trump of doom was lost to the ages, although it's mark was left.
Why had he felt this call, was it a test from Helm, a message that he was not completely forsaken as a herald, or perhaps a curse, to hear the spirits call, and be unable to act. No certainly Helm would not toy with him so, and if he did, the nearness to things of spirit would be taken as a gift even if it was meant as a curse. He felt closer to Helm than he had since his fall then, the recent purging of the Modding based powers Larry had imbued his generals with had opened something Morguerat felt, but what fruit it would bear remained to be seen.
The former knight breathed heavily as he composed himself from the ordeal of hearing a chorus of unearthly voices, his eyes closed against the world as he tried to right himself. Aside from the slightly heavier breathing the only indicator that all was not right was the white knuckle grip he held on his staff.
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