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The continent of Ashien is in a state of war. The Phoenix Empire of the west and the eastern woodland kingdoms of Tyradell are waging all out battle against each other. The Phoenix Empire however is on the brink to victory. Their armies slaughtering the townsfolk and all who stand in their way to reaching the final three cities of Tyradell needed to win the war. They capture the survivors and make them slaves, and the Empress rules over the newly captured lands with an iron fist.

You are part of an elite group of individuals sent out to help with the battle against Grandelurr, the most westward, un-captured city of Tyradell. You are at a heavily fortified encampment to the southwest of such a city. A small castle, surrounded by high stone walls and a reinforced steel gate at the south entrance. Inside such an encampment is the General's castle, which you and your group are currently residing in, as well as the many tents and shacks inside it's walls used by the soldiers of the Empire.

All is progressing very well... the first wave of soldiers managed to break through the Tyran phalanx and have broken through Grandelurr's walls. They are now trying to deal with the wizards, sorcerers, and heavy forces of Grandelurr. Until something... unexpected happens...

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You are currently in the main hall, waiting around for the general to come inside and discuss the plan in case the Empire soldiers need reinforcements. It is an arching room, with a wooden chandelier with wax candles hanging in the middle of it. In the middle of such a room lies a large table, equipped with a map of the region, including figurines resembling shields, swords, and circles. It surrounded with chairs, while a chimney blazes with fire, lighting a bit of the room...

A man in blackened half-plate armor stood by the table, his gauntleted hands resting flat upon its surface. It was polished to gleaming, and not a fold of the robes that hung loose around his legs was out of place. The firelight made the planes and angles of his face all the harsher, deepening every scar. Sunken green eyes flicked over the maps as he committed the placement of the figures to memory. He had been standing there for hours already, silent and almost motionless, save the occasional shifting of weight from one foot to the other. He tried to keep it off the left one for the most part, not wanting to exacerbate his limp. The usual aches and pains kept the grizzled man company even if the other specialists didn't speak much to him. They would likely know him, in name if nothing else: he was the Hanged Man, a wandering warrior from a far off land who had been working closely with the Phoenician general with strange and almost fervent devotion.

In truth, though he was idly thinking about the wartime situation at hand and the others in the room with him, he was mostly waiting for the arrival of the general. His gaze kept lifting to the door at every creak and shuffle, eager for it to finally swing open to admit the man. His heart raced as it did every time before one of their meetings, an electric energy coursing through his veins. Every so often he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear or adjusted his armor and clothing, wanting to look as put-together as possible.

In a darkened room lit by braziers holding torches, the flames of which managed to occasionally reveal a small figure, resting cross legged upon the floor. They were garbed in dirty white robes, ancient and holey at the base of it, showing boots in a state somehow worse. A hood cloaked the face of a mage, who was playing with a wisp of frost in hand, bouncing and dancing about.

After a time, the figure rose, making a way about the room's edge, hand upon the stoned walls. This happened many times in a cycle of sorts, as time gnawed upon what was a small elf called Jirala, who knew as much of herself as a stranger in town. She only walked in curiosity and boredom, for hardly anything else gnawed at the impatient mage.

Jirala was awaiting the arrival of what be her commander, for that reason alone did she rest here in an unfamiliar castle. Around her as well were other specialists, geniuses and grand warriors, all who served to bring about a single end, victory for the Phoenix Empire.