“There was something in the air. Something not quite right….
The evening’s mounted patrol toward the Sepulchur was as routine as the setting of the sun. Hours crawled and at one point it seemed like the patrol would not end. The two deaders mounted sternly upon their Warhorses did not waiver. Their bones rubbed against the bones of their steeds. Grinding gently as they patrolled at a trot.
As they neared the Forsaken Rear Guard outpost Crowford glanced over his right shoulder toward Fenris Isle. As something floated a tower’s height above the water he reached over to the other Patroller and smacked Rhivesha on her shoulder. She glanced across her companion’s body and down his lengthy arm. At the end was his brittle finger pointing upward toward Fenris Isle. As soon as she caught a glance at the object it seemed to have just floated downward in a controlled flight. The object was much larger than a crow or a bat.
Without a word she looked to her companion and nodded.
The two deaders tightened the reigns of their mounts and forced them into a full sprint eastward toward the Decrepit Fields. As the two deaders arrived at the water’s edge they dismounted and began their reconnaissance of what had flown into the Keep at Fenris Isle. As they emerged from the water the Rhivesha gracefully concealed herself in the darkness and proceeded as the Crowford awaited her return.
As she crept toward the Keep she found a small contingent of Dwarves mounted on Gryphons atop the towers of the Keep. She counted the numbers and positions and proceeded back to her companion.
They devised a plan of attack and engaged the Dwarves…. The battle was quickly handled. The deaders had driven off the Dwarves leaving two of them severely wounded. Rhivesha had suffered minor injury while Crowford was unscathed. The remaining Dwarves gathered their wounded and took flight toward the South and were out of sight.”