Ell'Dan stood at the entrance to his room. It was covered in fog, his window wide open and only one lantern still shining its light on his workplace. Most of his tools and items had already been taken to a safe location. All but one. An urn, carved out of a rare dark orange stone. Its opening was enclosed by a lid, which itself was held in place by three seals, of magic origin. There were symbols carved into it, a text, a prophecy, carved into the urn by Ell'Dan himself. He remembered that the urn once belonged to his father. He didn't continue this string of thought. Instead, he stepped closer, goosebumps showing up on his pale blue skin, as the closer he got, the more his very essence was bent by the magical energy flowing from this urn.

Once close enough, he stopped; There was a circle engrained on the lid, one that he hadn't seen before. It was all black and of unusual texture for the stone it rested on.

Ell'Dan let a small smile slip. So it had begun. Even the urn was preparing itself for the finale. The final act of this gruesome play. Ell'Dan had sincerely hoped to not witness it alive, but here he stood, the urn standing before him. He chuckled to himself, a depressed, lonely chuckle. Then he took the urn, which was about the size of his ankle, and opened the door to leave the room, however, sadly not for the last time. He looked back, glancing shortly at the door at the end of the room. The door that lead to a room he clearly remembered the screams coming out of, all those years ago. The screams had since then long gone silent, but the heavy feeling of dread still lingered. His smile vanished, and without a noise he closed the door and left the mountain. One day, he would save her. Bring her... salvation.

Standing outside on the uneven rocky ground, looking at the sunrise standing on the back, the mountaintop, of Karath, he thought about the future. He had thought he would have a choice when the moment came, but the moment had indeed come today and he faced a decision with only one answer at hand. With a move of his fingers he sent a message to the people he saw fit.

Dez Vurkin, a magician he had travelled with for a few years, a fellow Aasimar, who last time he saw him, was hunting bandits with his adventurer group.

The young Darion Sayaratna, whom he had once met before the great fire of Andera. A rebellious fellow, but one of crucial importance as well, as his heritage was of immense power and influence.

Zer, a Goliath weary of the ongoing war, dedicated to pushing through and maintaining what he thought was justice. A commendable warrior to join the group, Ell'Dan had seen him fight foes twice his size on their travels.

Nankujin, a Dragonborn who, after Ell'Dan first met him, rose to the rank of a general in the Holy 13th Crusade. He hesitated on this choice, as it would be potentially dangerous to unleash the force of the crusade, but it may be necessary to get them involved in the matter. After all, the task at hand was no easy feat.

And those were the champions he chose to help him with his goal. His goal of using the urn to its fullest, of unveiling all its secrets.

Ell'Dan had a lot planned, and started his journey down the mountain, to be prepared to meet the people who were to change the fate of the world, the fate of his life.