[Nuu™™]

On a nondescript corner of the Great Western Plains, a strange encounter was underway.

"Give up, Mr. Vole! You are an old man now, and I was the greatest spellcaster in all of Eltaristi. Surely it would be better sit in a cell in the frozen gaol than live a life running from me in this cold, rainy wilderness?" said one of the men. He wore a high collared overcoat and a fashionable leather hat which sat jauntily on his head, covering most of his face. "Why do you hate me so, Jackal? I brought you to this world to aid me! Why can't you just do what I ask?" replied the other man, who was apparently called Mr. Vole. He was a small, snivelling sorcerer, with a bald patch and a black robe. "You are a manipulator, Vole, and you have manipulated me and many other summons. I had a life in Eltaristi, a good life, then suddenly, pop! I was a slave to some pathetic sorcerer in some uneventful, unlikable dimension. So, if you do not obey me for once, I shall kill you, Mr. Vole. What do you say?" Mr. Vole gave a little laugh, before succumbing to a fit of coughing. "Kill me? You? What are you but a show off with a nice hat and a few nifty tricks? Go on, then! Kill the infamous Mr. Vole!" The other man, Mr. Jackal, seemed disappointed at Vole's bravado, and sighed. "Very well." He waved his hand, and instantaneously appeared a small army of automatons, complete with bayonets and uniforms. In unison, they began marching at Mr. Vole, their bayonets lowered. "Haha! That is the best you can do is it, Jackal? Toy soldiers?" Then, with the precision of an expert, Mr. Vole began casting his final, and greatest spell. He was summoning a dimensional storm. The automatons were almost upon him. Finally, he was finished, and the fruit of his labours appeared before him. It was man with a large moustache, who held a breifcase, and was looking rather tired. "What?!" shouted Mr. Vole. "This is it? This is the great man of war who I asked for?" Then his anger turned to fear, as he saw the automatons were almost upon him. He turned and began to run, but he was too late. One of the automatons raised his bayonet and slew Mr. Vole. With a gasp, he fell to the ground, and did no more.

Turning his attention to the strange moustached man, Jackal waved his hand again, tying his wrists. He then spoke to his automatons. "Take him to Aderon, they will know what to do with him there." They nodded, and began their task. Finally, with one last look at the dead sorcerer, Mr. Jackal walked off, and vanished into the mist.

OoC: There is no necessary response to this.