In the floating citadel of New Macedon, Alexander the Great paced restlessly, his gryphon-human like form casting strange shadows in the torchlight.
His advisors watched nervously as their leader, usually so composed, radiated an energy that was equal parts excitement and agitation.
"A mortal," Alexander mused, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down the spines of all present. "A mere mortal defeated Genghis Khan in single combat."
He whirled suddenly, facing his startled war council. "Do you understand what this means?"
One brave soul, a harpy general, dared to speak. "It means Bloodmire has become a significant threat, my lord. Perhaps we should consider-"
"A threat?" Alexander interrupted, his eyes blazing with an inner fire. "No, you fool. It means we finally have a worthy opponent!"
The great conqueror's laughter filled the chamber, a sound of pure, unbridled joy that was somehow more terrifying than any battle cry.
