“Eyes of the dead watch from their living walls.”

Those were the last words spoken by the plump gnome as the last breath of life exited from his lips.

“Next time, we bring no little people.” barked Orsk. The barbarian always spoke his mind with no regard to the delivery of his words.

“There won’t be a next time if this pace keeps up.” Myria whispered. “This is the fourth one tonight!”

“Time to wake up the monk.” Orsk crept towards the sleeping man. He quietly unfurled himself and aimed for the monk’s head. As the stream was about to hit it’s target, the monk instantly rolled to avoid the incoming secretion.

He let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll get you at some point, my friend.” The Death Monk just glared at the barbarian as he made his way past the campfire towards Myria.

“Anything interesting happen during your watch?”

Myria’s hazel eyes reflected the firelight as she looked up to him. “Seems like someone liked our little Gnomes, all four were poisoned. Only the last one was able to mutter something useful. The skinny one over there said something about a Spirit in Black – make any sense to you?”

“It could mean many things. I’ll pile the little guys up and we can add them to the flame – no need to to contaminate the area.” The Death Monk started towards the skinny Gnome. Myria stood in dis-belief. “You should get your rest, we might need your abilities come tomorrow. I’ll stay up the rest of the night.”

“Are you-” He cut her off. “Yes. The Night has always been a friend to me. I find it soothing.” He tried his best to offer a smile.

“Suit yourself.” Myria flicked off some soot from her shoulder length brown hair. She unrolled her sleep sack and was quickly asleep.

The Death Monk knew that his timing would be essential to the success of his mission. His Mistress would not accept anything less than the perfect specimen.

And Myria was perfect.

– War Wizard