An End to Games

'You have scarcely been in Bastion for a day since the battle with Naala, the Shaman Queen, when
you are called in a panic to the parapets. Those of you with the sense for your demesnes feel a
sickening evil fill your mind and you look up in horror.
 
Its' form is like the Shadowy Vultures you have already encountered, though it is blown up to
immense proportions, greater even than the Blue Dragon you fought in the mountains. Ars, the
Shadow Vulture Circles the City in great looping circles and clutched her talons is a might pavilion of
black silk.
 
You all feel your heads begin to ache and your energy leach from your bodies as deathly voice fills
your minds, and the minds of those around you as you see people falling to their knees heaving and
twitching.
 
"Well done warriors, I've not faced foes like you since my sister sent her Tensous after me, very well,
let us up the ante here. You have 24 hours, at which point I shall descend upon this city with my full
might, my legions travel as dust upon the wind to be here as we speak. But I am not without mercy,
especially to those who have earnt it, return my phylactery to me and I vow to return your remaining
ally to you and retreat to the Thornwastes for 100 years. Unfortunately, the Untouchable could not
have travelled with me, so I have had to slay him."
 
The voice pauses and you watch has the great vulture halts in the air miles above you, you barely
perceive a fluttering of the silken pavilion before and object falls towards you all, a bag that crashing
onto the castle walls before you with a sickening crunch and a pulping noise. The bag darkens as its'
contents begin to ooze.
 
"Here is my ultimatum to the Warriors the call themselves the East Aedran Company, hear me all ye
citizens of Propýrgio and know who to turn to should you wish for salvation. When night falls in 24
hours my dead will march on this city and slaughter all within, and with them will walk my Knight
Shaka, my Shaman Naala, my Vizier Ars, and of course, myself. I am the Ghostlord, I am the Lord of
Desolation, and I wish for what is rightfully mine."
 
The voice ceases and the ache in your minds begins to quell, the great vulture turns and flies
towards the mass of undead already waiting to march on the city, you look around and see many
people on their knees, some that may even have died in the streets, all who live however are staring
at you, with Terror and Hope. Telemarkhos, at your side says gently, "it may be best to return to the
keep for now…"’