|
"Not here am I?" A silibant whisper echoes down the great hall "And where else on this weak and pathetic world would I be?"
With that claim, the clanmaster strode down the weathered flagstones the grey cloak swirling around in the wake of his passage. Loping up the steps leading to the dias of his throne, he spun on his heel and looked at the people before him.
"So you want a war?" he asked softly "Well that's exactly what you will get...behold!"
A quick gesture from one of his gloved hands brought forth a shimmering portal in the air. Through it could be viewed another throne room this one with a weak elf sitting upon the bejewled chair, his fingers absently twisting a ring on his thin hand.
"This is the so called Palace of Merlin," he spoke "With the ignorance of their clanleader they have let a portion of my power into their very inner sanctum in the form of a flag. When the time comes and you are ready, I can open a doorway to the flag but only for a short time and only once. So be sure you are ready when you go!"
|