[Debaglio]

*A large ship with a green sail crashes into the shores of an island directly west.*

The shores of this land covered in waste, rotting life, and things that resembled a land deserted.

"I smell drow. It is now clear to me why this island is in shambles."

The demon went into a deep trance and called for strength of the Hand of Ebon. He was enlightened to the new race that controlled the land, and the diety told him of a lake near the center of the island that was source of his former identity.

The demon removed his Zormite Shield of Honor, and noticed its emblem glowing with a black hue. He walked into the dark land, following its increasing glow.

It was not long before he reached the lake the Ebon spirt had spoken about. The emblem on the shiled was now black as coal.

Kneeling beside the lake the demon cuped a hand of water.

"This water is blessed."

He stood drying his hands, noticing a glint in the water. Looking toward the horizon he saw the castle wall, and a large bonfire burning over the top.

The demon assumed the form of a black raven, and flew over the top of the castle to examine what was being burnt. Perching on a book ten feet from the fire the demon observed a few Drow throwing bodies into the blazing inferno.

One Drow stood out from the rest, but he did not do so intrusivley. There was a strange presence about him. His garb very similar to that worn by kings. Standing in the shadows, stooling in thought, he did not move a muscle. It was as if he were out of his body.

The raven flew over to the reserved Drow and perched on his shoulder.

"Speak with me."