The Heist Begins.

You sit upon an upturned log by the fire, gazing thoughtfully into the blaze. Kyra sits beside you, running a whetstone along the length of your sword with a practiced hand.

Your gaze is drawn from the flames by the sound of approaching footsteps. The warlock has returned.

“I finished what you needed.” Uklag says, waving a small, rune-covered circle of wood in his left hand. “I also gave one to Dorian. When will we attack?”

“All preparations are done. We attack tonight.” You reply, gesturing for Kyra to hand you your sword. “I will gather the wolves. If there is anything you still need to do, do it now.”

Uklag shakes his head. “No such thing. Let’s get this over with I want to get back home. I miss my wives.” He turns to leave. “I will fetch Catherine and Alratha, then we can begin.”

A few hours later you and your wolves lie concealed a fair distance from the walls of the keep. You stare at the portcullis, anxiously waiting for it to rise.

After what seem like an eternity, the portcullis shudders into motion, reporting the success of your diversion team.

"Now" You bark, and the mages spring into motion. The ground before you vanishes, replaced by swirling winds, and your tunneling begins. Soon after, the mages have fully disappeared into the rapidly-forming passage.

The progress is good, but not fast enough.

“Faster!” You shout, leaping into the pit behind them. “Do it while running, I don’t care how just faster!”

Uklag seems vexed by your demand, but he bites his tongue, and the pace increases.

The mages dig in shifts, and despite Uklag seeming to lag behind, you make excellent time. After only a few minutes you blast your way into the treasure vault. Pulling yourself into the room, you are struck by the grandeur of the place. Every wall is adorned with the arms and armor of queens and heroes, and the floor is littered with legends from days long past.

One such legend catches your eye, however. In the center of the room, standing upright, as if already inhabited, is the armor of midnight.

It's beautiful, sublimely crafted of the same black metal as Xilyra's collar, and trimmed in silver. The full helm sports a simple, yet intimidating design, forgoing any ornamentation in favor of practicality. The gauntlets are thick and heavy, and the chest plate sports a convex shape to deflect oncoming strikes. Most striking of all, however, was the armor's size. It was massive, towering over your wolves. It was the perfect size for you.

While looking at the armor, you were struck by a resolution. This armor must be yours.

You start towards the armor. You pass several wolves, scooping loot back into the tunnel. Dorian seems to be arguing with Uklag, though you don't care enough to ask what about. As you pass, Dorian steps between you and that beautiful armor, putting his hand up to stop you. You push him aside, barking for your wolves to help you put the armor on. A few of your men set themselves about the task, and soon after you are fully encased in black steel, save for your head. You order your men back to their task of looting, before closing your eyes and sliding the helmet down over your head.

When you open your eyes, you are quickly greeted by the sight of a dragon's eye, calmly regarding you.

_Another vision _You quickly realize. The dragon's head shifts, and a voice like the shaking of the earth speaks.

"You are nearly ready, just one more piece." The dragon says, then, with urgency in it's thundering voice, it says "Your warriors are under attack. I thought we would have more time. Next time we speak I will reveal all, but for now, go back, and show the interlopers what it means to cross Ulric Strongblood.

With that, the vision fades, and you open your eyes to chaos.