[Sale Bête]

Crusading men and women in their polished armor begin to press into the woods of the Shadowlands, where the darkness between the trees is near impenetrable. They march, they ride, and in the deep undergrowth eyes watch. Spirits of these lands stir restlessly. In strained whispers they speak as the offending force encroaches deeper into the territory near the Sanctuary. Words of warning:

"What you seek was never here."

  

"The Chalice of Silver has returned Home."

  

Yet, if the Crusaders continue, they will find the spirits more and more hostile the nearer they get to the Sanctuary. In the distance the baying of wolves, the rattle of steel, the crackle of energy in the air as Sorcerer's prepare rites to defend their home.

  

The Athelite contingent will not be allowed in uncontested.