After days of tracking, Duffy had finally located the vampire’s place of rest. She readied a stake as she pried off the lid of the coffin, only to find it empty. “Now, now, you didn’t expect it to be that easy, did you?”, sneered a voice behind her. Duffy smiled, gripping the stake, “On the contrary, I was hoping you’d be awake…”

Tyn’s partner unleashed an explosive spell, blasting the vault door off its hinges. However, the sound of the explosion was dampened thanks to Tyn’s abilities, and the guards a floor above heard no more than a small rumble…

Aeden turned to her spirit guide, a shadowy raven on her shoulder, “Grant me your vision, ancient one, and guide me to the proper path.” Her eyes went milky white, as the raven soared off into the sky above, and Aeden’s vision along with it…

Kru’jat led his fellow drow to the ambush spot. His orders were clear. The dwarven miners were getting too close to the drow’s hidden city, but after tonight, they would delve no further…

Aolis plunged the shadowy blade into the man’s heart, feeling the hunger inside him surge as he absorbed his very essence. His face looking less gaunt, he smiled, and set off in search of another meal.

Leofrick’s blade cut through his opponents’ armor with ease, while his own plate turned away blow after blow. It was not magic that enhanced these things, but his own skill with the forge. He fought for hours on end, never seeming to tire, another gear in the living war machine that was the Clanking Legion.

Toruk killed the final ghoul, but he was too late to save his friend. All he could do was offer him comfort as the light left his eyes. A few moments later, when his lifeless body began to stir once more, Toruk gripped his mace tightly, ready to lay him to rest once and for all.

Illaryl stepped nimbly atop the snowdrift, leaving hardly a trace. While most would find the frigid air uncomfortable, she reveled in it. She had lived in these mountains all her life, and was as much a part of them as the snow upon their towering peaks…

As Bryn pulled the bowstring taut, she called upon her goddess, empowering the arrow with a divine light. Her goddess didn’t tolerate poaching, and her prey would learn that soon enough.

Lyra called upon the Old Wood, sapping away the latent magical energy from the lightning bolt that had narrowly missed her, scorching a nearby tree. The energy began to knit her wounds, as she growled through gritted teeth, “You’re going to pay for that.”