Stygian pulled up an old stump in the small clearing near the abandoned bandit camp and arranged it close to the fire. He had sent some follow-up messages to those brave enough to respond to his first missive, and hopefully some of them would soon show up to discuss the future… possibilities.He breathed in a deep breath, savoring the faint smell that reached his nostrils… the scent of death. Obviously the old camp had not been abandoned for as long as he thought. He muttered a low and terrible incantation, weaving the Al’Noth, and interlacing entreaties to the Dark One. A low keening scream emanated from the ground and the translucent form of the spirit he dragged before him wavered in the feeble light of the small camp fire.“Go and watch. Warn me when others approach.” The spirit faded from sight to do the bidding of its new master.