Rotmam stood on the deck of his war barge, the howling winds of the storm doing nothing more than forcing the saltwater to cover his bones and blow the spectral flames of his war helm in every direction. He was following a rather dubious lead on the location of one of the chests containing the multilated boy of his High King. Unfortunately, his efforts were being hindered indirectly by the ****** vampire Isaak and his thralls. half of his soldiers were from the soulblight's mausoleums and crypts, as were two of his three priests. He needed a way to balance the scales in his favor. "Thank the gods that he did not send any Morghasts with us." Rotmam muttered as he walked towards his war room, and his retinue. While walking an old memory came unbidden into his head, of stories told by the more...awake soldiers of Kendri when his people first arrived. Stories of exiled priests and zealous assassins; the key part of the story though, was that the king and queen had confirmed the truth behind each one. If he had lips, Rotmam's would've had one that could only be called "feral".