The heavens roared and glowered with incandescence as the splinters of Deus fell from their heights, plummeting deep into the ground. Into the tunnels of Azdun did they tumble, piercing through earth as if it were mere water.

In the shadows below, a pale spectre waited. Sallow skin, dark eyes, and pale lips expressionless as she observed the world through her heightened senses.

Onwards did the masses stride, urgent in their task to gather the sacred splinters. Taking upon themselves the task of restoring Divine influence, the Overland was fraught with a mixture of fear and determination, born first from the corruption of the Orphean Serenade - the return of an ancient foe.

Yet, they squabbled and fought among themselves. Creed and ethos clashed in an ugly display of forced alliance, an apparent necessity in the face of an unparalleled threat. Grim memories of the endless maw of the Worldreaver teased at those old enough to recall, telling of a time where much was lost.

Eleusian beside Mhaldorian, Targossian beside Hashani. Many stood side-by-side in this loose alliance, imminent threat enough to barely quell the disdain for each other to bearable levels.

The underground forest of Azdun blazed into life as the realm marched into its surrounds, fighting erupting almost immediately. The Nihilists stepped forth with their balking sneer, ever amused by the possibility of unfettered bloodshed and turmoil. On and on they clashed with those who sought to gather the splinters for the alliance.

"She has come!", cried out a telepathic call. The alliance grew still afeared - the Nihilists caring not.

And there, in a hill giant's cave within the foliage, the spectre shifted.

Gattan'bahar's fingers brushed a Splinter of Deus, brow furrowing in thought as the Divine essence flowed forth in a current unabated, swirling and settling into her willowy frame.

"How very, very interesting."

Her absorption broken by the clatter of an arriving crowd, the spectre merely watched as the rag-tag alliance gathered before her, a muscled Human standing at its head.

The brave Imperiate of Cyrene thrust himself into the mettle first, drawing his blade low at the interloper's legs. With a snarl, she hissed as her form was bathed in a cloud of her darkened blood. Forward she leant to whisper into his ear, and uttered a single word:

"Die."

The darkness about the cavern twisted itself around the Imperiate, snapping tendril-like arms shut about his neck. As he turned to look on in sudden horror, he glimpsed his gloom companion, the fell reflection of himself contorted and warped utterly by the Tsol'teth's foul magic. A great snap and a rattling gurgle heralded the end of his life, snuffed out by his own shadow.

Without waiting to see the body fall, the spectre was gone.

The chase had begun.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary: In the Azdun Dungeon members of the overland alliance met Gattan'bahar as she examined a Splinter of Deus. Outraged by her temerity an attack was mustered. The first to strike the Tsol'teth died at the hands of his own shadow.

Penned by My hand on the 1st of Valnuary, in the year 724 AF.