Mallumon and Craig are exiting the Abbey – a posse of drunken Rams jumping them outside the main doors on the Main Hall Floor of Boa’Sol Chapel Grounds. The bustle of people part before the conflict – Craig having been punched in the face by one of the soldiers within seconds of exiting the “respected premises”. These drunken rams uphold their code of honor albeit in a brash and aggressive way.
The lone elf Hizzart sat and contemplated his fate for some time after falling behind the escort of riders. The thunder of their hooves vanishing into the din of a steadily raging storm permeating the complete darkness. A black so thick not even the sight of a pure blooded fey – native of Old Hawklund – could permeate. Hizzart could hear no better amidst the storms raging both outside and within him. Atop a trunk filled with 1000Marks he sat – locked in contemplation – alone amidst the fabled Battlefield Graveyard, an expanse littered with the once sacred remains of impossible numbers of soldiers fallen – their weapons thrust upwards through the rolling banks of snow – a veritable forest of rusted remains for many miles. Four Jinmenken descended upon him without being heard or seen. They attacked as a pack of wolves – colliding with Hizzart and toppling him to the frozen ground. Some had managed to inflict lethal wounds. Blood pumped freely from severed flesh and broken bone… Steam rose from the fresh gore. A great plume of mist billowed from the tangled beasts and their pray: Hizzart’s Hallowed Ability activating. The warlock evaporated one of the foul beasts with a tremendous blast before being completely torn apart by the human-faced hairless animals. These beasts of legend absorbed our fallen hallowed’s power upon consuming his blood – now a truly more horrific threat than ever before hunts in the dark… Hallowed Jinmenken.
Mallumon and Craig Dolan III rode with their escorts towards the music and gigantic wall of Boa’Sol. There they got a good lay of the land…
Along the way Mallumon had attempted to become closer friends with Zouthane – he mentioned how very cold he was despite showing no obvious signs – something the captain of the vanguard most likely noticed. No reaction was gleaned from him as they rode.
Upon arrival the duo made for the Patchwork Cathedral. Within the impossibly huge Main Chapel was a bustling town. They had been told upon parting with the escort of riders and their mounts that they would be free as casters here but had to meet with the Messiah’s to officially be welcomed. It seems the Messiah’s had questions for the duo…
Through perfectly subtle hand-signing, the Guildmaster swiftly located an associate of his secretive network who pointed them in the direction of an Inn.
Mallumon and Craig bonded with each other over pints they barely managed to procure and drink – as it was Dr. Toboggan that fetched the drank. They lost several Marks to the House after a few rounds of a card game not unlike blackjack. They had been accosted several times by an extremely short and drunk dwarf who seemed to be the leader of a group of Ram soldiers. He sat atop a small chair attached to the belt buckle of an impossibly big dwarf who wore the head rag of an executioner. All had the soiled but once brilliant Winter Whitegoat furs dawned – signifying their rank in the great army of the north