Chapter 2
He slowed his step as he finally finished his trek back to the Rogue Encampment. Walking past Warriv's caravan, he grunted in annoyance as the heated argument of two barbarians reached his ear. The reinforcements had arrived. The witch Akara was afraid her precious encampment would be shortly over run by the latest threat from Andariel. Pathetically weak this encampment was when he first arrived. Barely even fifty warrior Rogues to protect the gates. Pathetic. So she had put a call for aid out to all the corners for both mercenaries and warriors. Her saviors had arrived. Although, if it weren't for the bounty upon Andariel's head, he never would have even bothered to come under the name of aid. He suspected the others had the same notion as well. He exhaled deeply as he sat down upon a wooden log over looking a large fire pit, waiting to be lit. He peeled off his blood stained leather gloves, slapping them down beside him on the wooden bench. He brought his hands to his face, letting out an exhausted groan while tending to a steady ache that had begun to pulse through his forehead. He closed his eyes, gently rubbing his temples, easing the pain. He brought halt to his movements though, as a heavy pair of footsteps halted before him. Slowly he brought his hands down to his lap, he looked up.
"So .... You're the necromancer huh?" The long white haired man looked at the newcomer.
Shoulder length orange hair, animal fur armor, and pack of white wolves sitting on their haunches not a meter from him. A Druid, he noted, smirking,
"...can I help you?"
The taller man laughed and stuck his arm out in a greeting,
"The name's Klarin...are you are...?"
The Druid paused, looking questioningly at the Necromancer.
"Gaelix..." he replied reluctantly, ignoring the Druid's outstretched arm.
Klarin nodded withdrawing his hand in understanding the necromancer had no intentions of common courtesy towards him. Taking a seat on a stone he chose to ignore the Necromancer's signs of unfriendliness.
"Gaelix huh? I hear your from the west, from the Underground City of Tombs."
Gaelix ignored the talkative man, and began to remove his forearm and shin guards. He had met many Druids in his life, but never, had he met one as talkative as Klarin. He could already feel his headache coming back.
Gaelix had just about had enough when the sight of a large caravan pulling up at the front gates of the encampment distracted him, He watches as Akara left her grounds in greetings. The Druid had noticed Gaelix's diverted attention and silenced. He followed the Necromancer's gaze in time to see a series of clocked figures file out of the back of the wagon. Gaelix watched intently as the new visitors walked into town, followed by what seemed to be an anxious Akara. He heard Klarin whisper over to him,
"...Sorcerers..."