The rolling hills and windless fields were quiet. The night was young and i was on the prowl; in search of bettering myself and perhaps, if i was lucky, to acquire some rare loot. it didn't take me long to realize i wasn't alone. A man of what appeared to be equal to lesser skill of I was adventuring here as well.

After a short while of sizing him up and determining if i could take his last breath away from him I casually strolled over to this fellow. We struck a brief conversation. One consisting of name trading, looking each other up and down, and discussing how lifeless this area seemed tonight.

It wasn't long before a silence fell between us and i was growing tired of his pompous attitude, so i decided now was as good a time as any other to initiate the murder. But, something peculiar and utterly humiliating and demoralizing occured.

When i began to draw my weapon with a look of determination in my eye, Iscariot let out an "lol" as if it was comical that i challenge him to a dual to the death. Now, i ask you, since when can a man with sheepish armor stand a chance againt magick?!