A trio of grey-cloaked figures stood atop one of the many crystal spines that stuck out of the ground of the peninsula in the deepest, darkest part of the Huldraviklands. Despite the peninsula’s emptiness, they had lingered- and quietly observed the visitors as they slaughtered each other en masse, completely ignorant of the significance of this place. Yet, even those who blundered about with little knowledge of what they trampled could cause great harm- so the cloaked people watched carefully.

Not for the sake of the environment, goodness no. “Master would prefer not to be found,” one said quietly, a tall, spindly figure with all-consuming darkness being the only thing that peered from under the hood. “The Dreamer’s waking will draw attention that is most unneeded.”

“Most unneeded,” another agreed. Short and wide- masked with a curtain of reeds.

“Do we go to it, then?” The youngest of them asked, who wore his cloak like the first but whose hood’s shadow still clearly held a face.

“No, of course not,” the first said.

“Of course not,” the second echoed, but added on, “A being most ancient as that will prove a terrible threat to us, who have a higher purpose.”

“Then we find Master?” the youth asked.

“We do nothing.” The first said.

“Yes…nothing…” The second droned, “Let it sate itself upon blood and iron, where it will be much easier to draw back to the depths from which it came…”

“The Master would not like it,” the youngest one said, “If our inaction led to a disturbance from those whom hear of this…”

“They would hear of legends and monsters,” the first replied, “And not of the Master. We wait.”

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