*Artorious chants in a low cadence as he stares out into the inky blackness*

Noble ancestors of the Bison Clan, my brothers and sisters, yea back to the very beginning, hear the song of Artorious, son of Granthum.

I will sing of battles glorious, of foes slain, of mighty deeds and great victories.

Tempus!! Hear my chant! I, Artorious, your loyal battlepriest and son of the people call to you!

Sanctuary, the haven of the darkness, giver of succor to those that flee the foul ones of the darkness that borrow like maggots in dead flesh.

Tis here in Sanctuary I have found haven and a chance to do your bidding mighty lord of battles!

Lo, have I aquired a witchwoman, a fair maid of the long lived ones with eyes likes icey stars, soft lips, gentle touch and wild winds that blow through her hair so fine, like the long grass of the steppe in summertime.

Celedine, she who can weild the magics of might and power, she of the wise words and calm knowledge. I follow her lead as it has always been. Women are the wise ones, keepers of the knowledge.

Clad in metal by my witch, I set out to war with the maggots and foul ones! Tempus, your son calls out to you!

Kalin, dwarf battlebrother! Mighty with the axe is he, a true warrior born! Terrible and wonderous is his battle rage and he has sent many foes screaming to their deaths, a fine servant of the lord of battle.

Long do I miss the kiss of the wind on the steppe, the touch of rain on my face, the smell of grass underfoot.

Those that brought me here will feel the fury of a true son of the Bison clan, the black ones will all drown in lakes of blood!

*Artorious sits crosslegged with his sword across his knees, staring out of the Dark Lake and chants to the gloom*

Many days have passed since I was brought to this tomb under the earth, buried alive amongst the filth and refuse. Long do I mourn the loss of my clan brothers who are now in the Feasting Halls of the Ancestors.

I think back now on how I came to be here, and I will sing the tale of the war band of brothers of the clan and their fate and mine.

The sun had set on us as we set up camp on the sweeping plains, the stars rose and rode across the inky black sky. Kavass was passed about and many fell to singing and dancing.

Our guard was down, lax was our readiness when the black ones fell upon us like wolves, slicing through my brothers , scything them down as though they where nothing but grass.

I snatched up my axe and charged into the fray, sighting a female black one. Her lavendar eyes blazed without fear, green light flew from her hands and I was caught helpless in her spell.

Helpless rage flowed as I watched my clan brothers die, blood of my clan splattered the camp. Small satisfaction rose as I glimpsed bodies of the black ones laying mangled on the grass too.

Dragged and bound in soft strands of silk, I was lead away from the burning pyre that was our camp. Pushing into a glowing shaft of light, there was a flash and a pop. I looked up and could no longer see the stars.

Alien buildings of nightmares loomed out of the stygian blackness, things that should not be shambled and slithered by me. The female with lavendar eyes commanded my to follow and like a puppet I went with her.

Pushed into a opulant building, I found myself in the most lavish room I'd ever seen. No Khan's tent had ever been decorated thusly. Decadance and depravity where the stock in trade.

Many peoples loungued about on couches and divans, mostly females of the fair long lived ones although there were other woman and a few males as well of the race of men. Their eyes glassey, faces slack with expressions of lifelessness or outright lust.

Stripped, washed, shaved I was by female attendants, then clad in a flimsy silk gown. My shame and rage was smoldering, yet I could not resist this fate for the enchantress's spell was still on me. I was brought to the female who enslaved me, her eyes burning with naked lust as she appraised me.

With an imperious wave of her hand, we were left alone in her chamber, my humiliation and shame increaed as she stripped me naked of the flimsy gown, running her foul hands over my chest. Hatred burned within me yet my body betrayed me. Laughing, she dragged me to her bed and used me.

Thus it was to be for the next few days, used by many of the black females for pleasure. I began to accept my fate, and thought that if this is hell, then it was not so bad. I also could feel the females enchantment fading from my mind, the cobwebs losening their hold.

Days went by then I was summoned to a chamber, finding an elderly male black one there, his robes open and exposing his shriveled excuse of manhood. The fires of rage built again as I would not become this creatures catamite.

I held steady as he approach and touched me with it's withered hands, striking upwards with the flat of my palm, I crushed it's nose with a single blow. It reeled back wailing in pain as I leapted panther like on it, grabbing his head and twisting hard.

Fountains of blood sprayed forth over me as I ripped the head from the shoulders, dropping the body I ran to the door still gripping the head in my hands. Shocked attendants fled screaming from my blood drenched form.

Stunned guards started to react but I bashed them in the face with the head, howling in beserk fury as I fought. Seeing a brazier, I grabbed it and hurled it into the room, hot cinders and coals flying everywhere, sending many screaming as the webs and curtains caught fire.

Grabbing a dagger from a fallen guard, I lept from a a window to the ground outside and ran and ran as I had never done before. Somehow Tempus smiled on me and I was free of the black ones.

Stumbling about in darkness, I summoned small lights to guide me. I felt a hand on my soul, nudging me in a direction, accpeting the will of Tempus I followed till I reached the gates of Sanctuary.

*a low voice echoes across the dark lake*

Many battles I have fought, many enemies smashed in the name of the Foehammer. Admiration and respect, I do gain thus.

Secrects have I & my witch have uncovered, the powers and factions that rule this place hide themselves behind false promises of hope for freedom. They are puppet masters all, but I see through their pathetic charades, all of them. Many think they are safe here but it is all illusion. Even the puppet masters are merely puppets themselves.

Much have I learned from the scratchings that make sounds and much can be gleened from them. Many tomes has Celedine read to me and we have began to uncover the dark truth of Sanctuary. I am an experienced observer in the great game of power and I see it clearly being played here.

Days gone past have seen me speak to a warrior woman of the Tigereyes mercanaries. Zelrelde, hard as nails is she, firm of purpose. The two other two men who wear the Tigers colours who I have seen are not worthy of the blessings of Tempus. They shelter one of my enemies from retribution of the watch. Saw it did I with many witnesses. They have made a poor choice.

The dwarves here are closest to my heart, Kalin and his growing clan. Zelrelde sought me to gain allies for the Tigers, which makes me think that they Tigereyes need me more than I need them. Tigereys are hated and loathed by almost all it seems. Not a good base to build an army with.

The dwarves have a better idea, they work for themselves. I will aid them as a priest of the Foehammer. I will seek them out and speak unto them.

*Artorious sits by the edge of the Dark Lake and chants softly into the gloom with a slight smile on his face*

Ancestors of the people, I sing to you of battles fought, mighty deeds, dark secrets and of rare & delicate beauty in the night.

More have fallen to me, many enemies no longer draw breath, my axe is notched and bloody people seek me out as an ally, asking for my aid and advice, I aid all in their struggles for all are equal in the eyes of the Foehammer.

Darkness grips this hole like a vice, hungry and vengeful ghosts of Hoar have I fought and defeated, the restless dead still moan and wail, such is their torment.

Warriors seek me out for companionship or battle, one has challenged me to a duel for money, I will face him when I am ready and I will fight him and lay ruin unto him.

More secrets an stories have I yet found, many still lurk in the shadows, the truth is somewhere in between light and dark, sift through the refuse to find the answers to Sanctury.

A real army begs to be built, one that has no alliegence to the petty factions that seek to keep all in their thrall, careful I must be though and plan ahead well for power is jealously guarded.

Many though would come if I raised Tempus's banner here, but it is too soon, much more needs to be done, alliances and blood oaths sworn.

I sing now of a woman, golden is her skin, her eyes soft and brown, Smooth to touch and soft is her caress, firm are her thighs and strong are her hands, Pretty as a Lotus blossom and sweet as honey is she, her voice like soft music and her heart fiery, her breath hot on my lips. Swept away like a leaf on the wind am I by her, glad am I to know peace in her arms.

*Artorious sits cross legged by the shore of the Dark Lake alone, his voice low as he chants quietly*

Lo my Lord Tempus the Foemhammer, my ancestors, my clansmen and kin, my brothers and comrades who now walk in the place where no shadows fall I sing unto you. Harken to me and hear the saga of your brother and son!

Long has it been since I sang of events and the tales of my deeds. I have lingered quietly in the darkness, biding my time, watching and waiting as does a hunter for the right moment.

Many who I fought with in the early days of my confinement here in this abyssal tomb under the wold have gone beyond tha viel. Celadine my witch woman, Kalin dwarf & shieldbrother, Shou Wen of the gentle hands....people who touched my heart before being torn from it.

Yet lo, there still is Genevis, he of the flowery words, a leader of men who tries hard to do his best but I believe his efforts are wasted. He supports a system that is corrupt as maggot sodden meat. I pity him for he has never known what freedom truly is.

I have learned much, delved deep and uncovered much of the lies that is Sanctury. This insidious sham of false hope keeps all in willing thralldom and perpetuates those who cling to the reigns of power yet I will yet break free one day. I am patient and will plan and prepare as the Foehammer teaches. My purpose has become clearer than ever, escape to return once more to the rolling steppes and ride with the people again.

Listen unto me, I have seen the rise of the followers of the BloodReaver, Garagos, battlemad fanatics that will soon need killing. I have beheld the one who leads them. I look forward to striking off his pathetic excuse of shriveled manhood and stuffing into his mouth as the light fades from his eyes, then hacking off his head and mounting his miserable brainball on a pike as a warning to others and to show these worms here that Tempus is the true god of War. A fellow priestess of the Foehammer do I need to find again and also raise the banner of Tempus here once and for all, drive out the deranged ones of Garagos and establish a shrine to the Lord of War.

Comrades have I found with one from the near East, a Mulhourandi named Samir, he of the Golden Hawk God. Others like William, mage of power and skill, Celas and Potter, elves of nature. They make fine battle companions and worthy allies but I must learn more of them, to see if their desire for freedom is stronger than their yearning for power in this cesspit in the bowels of the earth.

Another woman, a dancer, seeks to enthrall me with her feminine whyles...she is amusing for now...but she liken unto a skorpion and as such, I know her kind well and know she can not be fully trusted as she will never change her nature. She only seeks the solace of shadows, not the warmth of the sun and the kiss of fresh winds bearing the scent of springs flowers. Thus I am watchful of her.

Great care must be taken, power and wealth accumulated, alliances formed and solid allies sworn into blood brotherhood. For this is the only way that freedom can be found, it can not be achieved alone but with the strength of others, we can be forged into an elite army that will temble and quake at our coming. Routes must be scouted and ancient evils dealt with one way or another.

This is do say unto you, spirits, friends, kith & kin, lovers and my god. The time draws nearer to commence the beginning of the way to freedom...

*a warrior sits alone on the dark lake shore, and whispers his chant out over the black, silent water*

Harken to me spirits of my ancestors, souls of fallen comrades and Tempus, lord of war. I, Artorious call out to you again and sing of deeds done, battles fought in your name.

Mages of power, those who call themslevs spellguard dog my steps, cloaked in invisibility. Treason one cries out as I speak freely of the rotten heart of Sanctuary in the house of light. My fleeting and fanciful wish to have this place reduced to ashes and rubble by my enemy, the drow. Oh, the irony it would be, to have Sanctuary destroyed by those that enslaved me, my captors in sanctuary enslaved themselves but I refrain from this course as too many innocents would be lost in the destruction of those who must pay. The mage who made the charges had nothing to work with, I believe he was ready to piss his dress if I drew forth Drowsbane, the Sender to smash his puny chest in. Patience, I must wait for the right moment.

Precise as the arrow, swift and true must vengence be.

More must I learn about the great machine but I lack the knowledge of the arcane, oh how I wish Celadine where with me, the witchwoman would know what to do. Mages I must befriend, an elven sorceress I have been kind to, mayhap she could be of use to my purpose. The machine is one of the secrets that still appears to elude those of spellguard and the one who reveals it's mystery will have immense power, of that I am certain.

Tentetive allies I have made of those who serve the gods of light. One woman, a holy warrior intrigues me. She is fair to the eye and is staunch in battle but I must tread as light as a cat stalking a doe if I am pursuing her.

Priestess of the God of Justice, one who's heart is great and kind but naive had to be shown what lies beneath. Revelations where made unto her and she came away a troubled soul but still clings to her dogma of helping the less fortunate. It is that blind adherence to this concept that purpetuates the powers that be, those who are the true puppet masters of this hell hole. By helping new arrivals adjust to Sanctuary, they slowly remove the desire for freedom in the escaped slaves. Bondage can be of metal chain or of silken rope but one is still held in thrall no matter what binds you, the silk hardly bites into the flesh and so can be forgotten eventually.

No closer though am I to finding companions to make the bid for freedom. Most seem content to remain down here. Again, I must be patient.

Another mystery, is that there are many warriors but almost none give tithe or praise to Tempus. The Lord of War, one of the greatest and mightiest gods in the pantheon, is virtually ignored by warriors when they go into the fray. No more will I tolerate this. If Tempus' blessings are sought then some respect must be paid unto the Foehammer, be it a minor prayer of thanks or coin given by the receiver. By my reckoning, all priests should band together and demonstrate the power they hold. If we withhold the blessings of our gods, those warriors would soon fall to the spells and weapons of their enemies. The prospect of death certainly sharpens ones attention. More piety and genuine veneration of the true power of the gods should be enforced on the flock of wayward souls! No more velvet glove, more of the iron fist!

Battles I still fight, fields of destruction and baptisms of fire, I shall witness much suffering and watch as battles rage both withinand without. I walk through the darknesss, the long twilight lingers.