How goes the preparation?” boomed the mighty dragon.

He was a black dragon, the second most deadly among the ancient beasts, though few would ever mention it. His black scales were harder then any material known to man, and his teeth as sharp as a dwarven blade. Mighty wings that span over one hundred yards, with cruel spikes coming out of each inter-section, clung to his side. Friend and foe alike would always try to be out of reach from his deadly breathe of flame.

The dragon was sitting atop his treasure horde, which was located in one of the many mountains that were part of Rockslide Range. The Cavern was dark and humid, just the way he liked it. Large stalactites and stalagmites shot up and down along the floor and ceiling. Around his feet, were layers upon layers of gold and gems, underneath the large dragon and behind his massive body, were treasures that were priceless. Ancient weapons imbued with the strength of brave knights, were also stained with their blood. Magical tomes and scrolls hid in safe gold lined cases, were buried under the massive body of gold.

“Its starting, Shadowwraith ,” hissed the sesthe.

Sesthe were among the strangest creatures that lived in the vast land of Render. They are what some historians believed to be an evolution from the dragon, since they carried along the same attributes except for the ability to fly, the dragons enormous size compared to the much smaller creatures, and that a sesthe would stand on two legs as if he were human. Green and yellow scales covered their bodies. Their heads were like that of a lizard, large black eyes fit to the sides of their head, and long always moving tongues. They to were able to breath fire, though not nearly as strong as their ancestors.

“Good, they will not be able to comprehend until the dawn of their fate is upon them,” Shadowwraith said as he grinded his knife like teeth. “Have the shamans begun their praying?” the dragon asked.

“The masters have, and they soon will incorporate the lesser priests into the ceremony,” sesthes answered.

“And what of the armed sesthes, are they to ready for a war?” the dragon questioned, going into deeper detail with his first question.

“They grow eager and thirsty for the blood of humans. Every night they are sharpening their claws, and tattooing their scales with black ink in honor of their leader,” he answered, clapping his clawed hands, since he excited himself with what was near.

“Soon, they will get as much blood as they yearn for, but most of all, they will get victory!” Shadowwraith bellowed, shaking the cavern they were located in.

The sesthe began to hop off, but a large ebony wing stopped him.

“Tell the shamans to report to me at once, and make sure their ceremony is not off by a single chord of song,” he said, with a toothy smile that nearly took off his large horns that sprung out of his head.

“But of course my lord, I shall have them report to you at once,” he said, scampering off down the winding tunnel that led to the largest cavern in the mountain side.

Shadowwraith rolled his head sides to side, his powerful neck as thick as several oak trees. He had grown in the very chamber he was now for over six centuries, growing with wisdom and power. All those years, he had gained knowledge from what sesthes lived, in the mountainside. Knowledge of the surroundings of Foxhole, and those who inhabit it. For the most part, he gathered an army of huge size from the areas that border Foxhole. It was an army that consisted of mainly sesthes, the true followers of the dragon. The others were slaves of the sesthes, whether it be goblin, human, elf, or even a magic resilient dwarf.

The black dragon’s eyes narrowed as four priests ran into the room, their large feathered headdresses nearly falling from atop their heads.

“Why do you enter with out introducing yourself first,” bellowed the evil dragon.

“We are sorry, general say to meet you here right away,” he nodded quickly, along with the others.

Shadowwraith cocked up a horned eyebrow and looked at his pitiful subjects.

“Continue,” he sighed, which sent smoke coming from his large nostrils.

The four smiled and got to their rightful positions. They each held out their hands to the others, and clasped them, forming a square. Each let out a high shrilled shriek, as they began to jump up and down, all the while continuing in a circle. They held their grasped hands up into the air, continuing their shriek. As they brought their hands back down, a large gust of smoke appeared over the four shamans. As the smoke dissipated, fifty other priests stood around the four original.

To a farmer it would have been a grand miracle, but to the dragon, who had seen the greatest wizards fall to their knees after their magic had failed, it was a lame one.

The group then settled down, and formed an odd shape, which resembled a single flame. Each priest sat down one by one, while one, the oddest of all the queer shamans strode into the center of the holy symbol.

He wore a head dress consisting of a minotaur’s skull, with several horns from different animals sticking from the milky white cranium. As a sign of his cruelty, which was always a large attribute among sesthes shamans, he donned a vest made from human flesh, and a girdle created with dwarven skulls. A red sash was hung around his neck, and hung down to his waist. In his hands was a staff that resembled a spine.

The eccentric priest cart wheeled around the other shaman’s, his outfit creating a large rumbling sound. He ended what seemed to be an endless routine of cartwheels with a flip, that landed him before the dragon. As he landed the moans of excitement could be heard escalating through out the tribe of priests.

“Lord Shadowwraith, we have answered your call,” he said swooping into a bow.

“So you have. Now what is your name shaman?” asked fierce dragon.

“My name is Zeleio,” the sesthe hissed, his long tongue slipping from his mouth.

“A performance of acrobatics is uncommon among your race. I wonder where you gained your agility,” Shadowwraith boomed.

“A gift from Vilop,” Zeleio said, referring to the sesthe god.

The dragon’s devious yellow eyes narrowed. He snorted a puff of gray smoke, and sat up. “Well you must be the Headmaster then. And if that is so I am waiting for your performance,” the ebony scaled dragon coaxed.

“As you wish,” the shaman said as he flipped back towards his priests.

The priests quickly gathered into a tight clustered circle, all of them chanting in unison. At a single instance each began to leap up and down, still chanting. Zeleio took the lead and let out a shrill. Each priest followed. The headmaster leaped on top of the clustered sesthes and held absolutely still as they let go of him, but the shaman remained where he was, floating above the cavern’s floor.

Shadowwraith was actually taken back by the magic. Of course he had seen this feat preformed before, but not by a sesthe shaman, who were known not to be very useful arcane wielders. What further amazed the dragon was the ability with in this lone sesthe. He was performing acts that no sesthe could carry out. Either he was a half breed, or possessed the will of his god.

Zeleio levitated higher, spinning in full circles, cascading higher into the cavern. Below, each shaman pulled out a hand drum and began to hit it slightly, creating an even rhythm. From amidst the group came two slaves, and elf and a dwarf. The elven maiden, was beautiful, with silk like hair, and delicate pale skin. The dwarf was quite the opposite. His long red beard ran to his toes, making his face barely visible except for his large nose and eyes. Each were stripped down to rags, barely able to stand from the torture the malicious lizard creature performed hours before. Their hands were bound with rope behind their backs.

The shamans made a large circle around the prisoners. Zeleios lowered to the center of the circle, his staff held out before him.

“Cut the bonds,” he ordered.

Two sesthes cut the bonds with their razor sharp claws and slipped back into the circle.

“Kill me and you go free, no questions asked,” Zeleio said as he threw the dwarf his axe, and the elf her slender sword.

Both prisoners looked at each other with a sparkle in their eyes. The dwarf put the head of his great axe onto the ground and rested it’s shaft against his stomach as he spit into his calloused hands. The elf, brought her sword through a delicate deadly sequence as she prepared her self mentally. Zeleio laughed wickedly as he brought his staff out defensively.

“Ye slimy lizard,” the dwarf roared as he launched himself at his captor.

The agile sesthe leaped over the dwarf and cracked him on the head with his staff. His enemy stumbled away as he clutched at his split open wound. Zeleio kept his eyes focused at the elf maiden.

She leaped into battle, her perfect balance and attacks making Zeleio retreat into free space. The elven maiden continued her barrage of attacks, but it seemed that the lizard man always knew where her attacks would be, since he parried each one with the greatest of ease. He launched the tip of his staff at her head, but the nimble elf dodged the stave. She thrusted her sword in low, but the butt of the staff snapped it out wide, leaving her defenses open. The sesthe drove his staff home, collapsing a lung and shattering her ribs with his strength.

The slave gasped for air, as Zelelio came kneeled besides her.

“You life is at its end,” he whispered as he took his clawed hand drove it through her back, getting a cheer from the crowd. She went into her final death throes until she lied their lifeless, blood dripping from her mouth.

As he got up and bowed and dwarf barreled in knocking him from his feet. The dwarf roared as he swung hard at the evil creature, but missed. He brought his axe up again to attack, but was tripped by the sneaky sesthe’s tail. He quickly was on the defense as the staff came in with a flurry of attacks. The dwarf was not as nimble as his fellow prisoner, but he could take hits with out even grunting. He swung long, creating a wide arc to keep his enemy at bay, driving the sesthe back. Axe in hand he jumped back to his feet, charging into battle. He was perplexed at why the creature wouldn’t move and just continued to smile. His eyes went wide when he was that stationed behind the creature were several priests, each with long spears pointed in his direction. Before he could stop he charged headlong into the spears, skewering him alive.

“Damn cheater,” the dwarf mumbled as he had his last breath.

Shadowwraith who continued to be just a bystander in the fight was surprised once again with the creatures ability to fight. The one thing he was not surprised about was Zeleio’s choice to make a fair fight unfair, which seemed a common trait among sesthes. Though he expected it from the very beginning, since no sesthe, or any race for that matter would openly challenge both a dwarf and elf at once if he did not have something up his sleeve.

“Well done!” bellowed Shadowraith, congratulating the sesthe.

“In honor of you my lord,” Zeleio said going to one knee.

‘It seems our victory will be an easy one,” the dragon mumbled to himself, since he knew that Zeleio alone had brought a dangerously low moral into one that would seem fit for an army of dwarves.