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Madura, still mulling over his pathetic existence as he exited the tent, suddenly had a voice fill his head. It began as a whisper, skirting around the edges of his thoughts, but grew in intensity until it was a vicious roaring that seemed to be destroying his mind. Reminiscent of a jet engine echoing in a cave that reverberated around the inside of his skull, he began to detect the voice of a woman with a very deep voice. He doubled over, grabbing his skull as if to stifle the voice that wasn’t his own. It didn’t stop, and suddenly the roars became crisper and more defined, as if something else was forcing itself into his mind. Madura fell, writhing and snarling. Just as he felt he was about to go insane, the roaring echoes gained clarity; a smooth voice speaking in the startling silence.
"Madura Speratus. How fitting that my chosen being happens to be a private. Strange… I believed people of your bloodline were granted middle ranks? And with your power… no matter. I am here –well, not physically here, but mentally- to tell you what you must do on my behalf."
