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Turmoil in Camp Carakath [Nocturnus Civil War] Ambush in the Rakath [Nocturnus Civil War] Onwards, to the Moruth Highlands! The Civil War of Nocturnus was yet to reach its climax. Lord Raavage had moved into the Rakath Mountains to retrieve the Necromancer's Helm, pursued by the 1st Corps of the Zotharian army, which was moving at a strenuous pace, beyond the front line, into unconquered territory. The 2nd Corps was assigned to fend off any attacks on the city of Zotharith and the surrounding area. Meanwhile, a division had been stationed at Carakath, a miners town in the Rakath southwest from Zotharith. The division was led by Vauranglir Merehgrim, 2nd mage in the Order of Zotharith. After defeating the Spire squadron that initially had the town's surface in control - underground, the dwarves defences were holding out - no attempts had been made to retake the town from the Resistence, and life was actually relatively peaceful. One morning however, Camp Carakath woke up to a baffling sight... Contrary to popular belief perhaps, skeletons are one of the toughest enemies for humans to face. Due to the lack of flesh, they are obviously invulnerable to flesh wounds and virtually invulnerable to arrows. It also makes them incredibly light and swift. Additionally, they are maintained by magic, which means they don't need to eat, drink or rest, and they can't drown. While it is true that they only have a very faint perception of physical world around them, their souls see the underlying spiritual world much better than humans can, enabling them to track down their enemies in complete darkness and regardless of obstacles. It goes without saying that the fact that a pile of them, plus a mage, lay lifelessly in the middle of the camp, seemingly without any witnesses of what happened, gave rise to great confusion. All that could be done was wait in suspense for the moment Vauranglir would step out his tent and lay his eyes on the bizarre scene. The previous night... It was the middle of the night. Vauranglir couldn't sleep. The bed he had been provided with was too soft and comfortable to his taste, thus got up and sat down in front of his tent. The two guards in the little trade hall were craving for sleep, so it seemed, and it didn't take much to have them both drop to the floor, fast asleep, before they had even noticed their commander. He'd take over the nightwatch, but to keep him occupied he started working out a spell that he had had in his mind for a while. The hours slipped by unnoticibly. Suddenly, he sensed something was approaching. He blew out the candle. For a moment, the thought of waking up the guards and soldiers crossed his mind, which he quickly rejected it. Too much of a hassle. He would treat himself to some nightly fun. Skeletons, several of them, charging towards him. Vauranglir was quite amused. Time for some exorcism... He slayed them one by one, and then their master showed up. He strengthened the sleeping magic for the whole camp, as he felt things could get a little rougher from here. Mage "Surrender yourself to the Spire and I will leave your comrades alive!" Vauranglir "You have me absolutely terrified. Come on, Spire lord, show me some magic!" Mage "Not a step closer, I will..." Vauranglir "An advanced targeting spell, excellent choice, very impressive! Though it feels like I've seen it somewhere before... oh wait, I DEVISED IT! Guess what, boy? I also know how to break it!" And thus, the unfortunate lad was done for, and Vauranglir could finally rest as well, though in a more temporary way. The morning would surely bring turmoil, but whatever... Hi, I'm back. I spent my (whole) weekend on setting up the scenes, experimenting with nighttime photography and editing. So, I spent quite a few hours in the dark, and right now it's past 2:00 AM here, so I guess I'm starting to turn nocturnal, just like Vauranglir. Now, let's hope someone will actually read all of this. I'm off to bed, lol.