The reek of the undead clings to my nostrils, a constant reminder that
three of the Folk remain in a twisted mockery of life, in the dank
underbelly of this stinking city. In typical human fashion, the city
government deported the bearded ones who possess not just expertise in
navigating the underdark, but an avowed specialty in the eradication
of the undead. I have seen many things in my long years, but never
such directed, cunning malevolence. What disgusting, unholy beast lies
beneath the blood-soaked grate? And what twisted intellect spawned and
commands it? The valor of my companions in that room of death made my
blood sing, and it is good to stand alongside the mage from Apsu's
dream-sending. A sense of destiny marks our band of heroes, and I am
certain that the Maker of All will give us the strength to burn out
this foul threat to the innocent. The mustachioed half-breed's face
lingers mockingly in my thoughts; it seems that he is but a thread
that shall lead us to a weave that shall lead us to the hand that
guides the weave... -Apsu's golden wings above me, Apsu's golden
blood within me-
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