The avenue from the main road out of Rhydin runs from west to east, through a forest dense with oak and evergreen. As it leads slowly down through a caldera, it branches into three paths: one north to the Dark Lake Manor itself, one north and west past the manor to a Mage Tower, and one south and east to the Dark Lake.

The buildings are built from some kind of smooth, dark gray stone that's almost lambent by moonlight and glitters in sunlight. There are a few gargoyles ensconced about the manor exterior, which has two main entrances. The front entrance is double doors of heavy dire oak, inlaid with a serpentine design of crimsor (a lustrous red-gold highly valued in Rhilshen). The back entrance is two wide doors of glass, set into a wall of immense windows which overlook the lawn. There are other entrances not immediately apparent. Most of the chambers have balconies with grouchy gargoyles.

The manor, mage tower, stables, and other outbuildings are surrounded first by manicured green lawns, and more remotely, gardens in primarily formal styles. Most of them are planted with fragrant, night-blooming greenery that seems to burn with blue fire in moonlight. Secluded back in the forest, there is a rock garden made from stones originating in Rhilshen - Alysia's shrine to the Guardian God of Rhilshen is located there. The gardens are all maintained in evening hours by a pair of zombies who did not let death get in the way of their green thumbs. If anything, their thumbs are greener now.

There are strange songbirds in the gardens. They look like the normal sort of bird: round and winged with bright plumage, cheerfully warbling and twittering, but their beaks are more suited to flesh and blood than to nuts and seeds or nectar. Visitors should not attempt to feed the birds.

There are usually mage-guards with hellhounds or shadow-panthers patrolling the grounds. Some of the guards are Javan's "street rats", a group of orphans of various abilities training under Rhilshen's Master of Assassins. The guards won't challenge those who are identified and expected, but will make their presence known. Any uninvited guests who make it through the wards with hostile intent will have an interesting time of things.

Birch trees and willows drape the path to the southeast which leads to the lake, mirrors the winding way of a frog-infested creek/stream. The frogs are vocal and during late summer, form trios to sing harmonies loudly in thirds. The shore of the lake is black sand, and the water appears black. There are some obsidian and shale outcroppings in places along the shore. Steam rises year round from a small island with mildly active geothermal springs near the center of the lake.

Lord Veighn Yhaull, Arch-Magus of the Lunithaylian Shar?Vae, stood on the dark and winding mountain road that stretched like a tentacle snaking out from Rhy?Din Proper. The crossroad was just ahead, and as he looked up through the canopy of monolithic evergreen trees, he approximated his position by the stars at being just northeast of the infamous city. The moon was high, and insects churned and buzzed in the backdrop of night.

Dismissing the rolling black nimbus surrounding him at ward?s behest, he turned toward the east. Lifting his arms, voluminous sleeves billowed as long, talon-tipped fingers began to pluck and flick at unseen strings of magic. His arms, the movement of his hands wove complex patterns as he tapped the certain crossroads of lesser lay-lines, drawing the raw energy into him. As he did this, the six Dhar?Nothra, a vile mutation of the undead gifted to him via Anastasha?s pact, emerged from the pine and oak forest, affecting a corporeal form as the shifted into reality from the ethereal.

Radiating a dark light, the Arch-Magus, turned southwest as the militant elvish undead formed ranks on either side of him. The cool air of the spring night tingled and prickled his skin, sweeping his ensorcelled robes and glossy black hair about his silhouette. He gazed on with burning crimson eyes, most solid in hue ? lacking whites and irises, as he watched the approach of the horse-drawn cart making its way up the path.

?Halt!? a man called out from behind the cart, approaching its flank on horseback. Tethered to his saddle was the line of another steed that trotted at his right, lacking a rider, for now. He dismounted, a man in a floppy hat and merchant?s traveling clothes, and he tied the reigns of his horse to the cart as the cart?s driver dismounted, making his way toward the back. The merchant approached the Dark Lord, fighting wilfully against the small measure fear he felt in the presence of the Wizard. Veighn's natural 'aura of fear,' though deliberately and considerably lessened by the ward sigilii of his enchanted robes, still flowed forth from the Lunithaylian's being, radiating waves of liquid horror the nearer the merchant got to Veighn's physical form. ?M?lord,? he spoke, addressing the Black Wizard, ?We?ve come with your cart as agreed. Ho-err?? Startled by the sudden change in expression on the Dark Lord?s face, he gulped loudly, and with subtle, wraith-like movements, Veighn edged forward. ?Aye, what is it?? His dark brow cocking to emphasize the query, he waited for the man to quit trembling enough to finish his statement.

?I know that we agreed to drive the cart, however, ye were deliberately vague as to where ye wished us to take ye load. These, sir, are the boarders, and that the road, to the lands of the Witch of the Dark Lake. We dare not tread those forest paths. The place, they say, is haunted. Though armed with elven sell-swords ye may be?? The fat merchant eyed the Dhar?Nothra uneasily, a passing glance to impassive eldritch faces. ??I must beg ye leave of this place. One third of the payment required, for the change of plans, will be sufficient to settle our agreement. Won?t it?? The man?s traveling clothes began to become weighed down in the front, the drip of water could be heard very soon after.

Veighn sneered in disgust at the merchant, his nose wrinkling at the smell of urine on the southern winds. He procured a small purse of coin, and tossed the leather pouch to the trembling man, who fumbled for it in the air, and clumsily dropped it to the ground, gold spilling along the gravel and dirt of the road. ?Th-thank ye m?lord! Thank ye!? The merchant said, bowing repeatedly as he stepped away, leaving a few coins of gold on the road as he retreated from the glowering mage.

?Leave, with haste, or the ?Witch of Dark Lake? will be the least of ye worries. Get thee hense!? The mage?s eyes strobed with fiery light and the merchant ran to the back of the cart, fumbled at the knot he?d tied, and threw himself over the back of the horse as it started to trot away down the path, his lackey in hot pursuit just a moment behind.

Veighn pivoted and began to release the energy he?d gathered, weaving the spell of the dimensional portal as he uttered arcane words in the three-toned language of the Lunithaylian ancients. Shadow fell from the face of the mountains, cascading down in a fall of inky black to pool in the static charged are as runes flickered and twirled in the fabric of the mana-weave. The Dhar?Nothra moved, taking up position on either side of the cart, some climbing inside the cart?s bed, as the portal began to open up.

Armored warriors pushed a cloth-wrapped object through the gate on the other side, the Eldar ?Scorpion troops? of Uruviel, his pact-bound Farseer. The Dhar?Nothra accepted the weight of the huge object, and the cart creaked as it began to bare its weight. They heaved, and pulled, drawing the thing from the gate without emitting the smallest sound of effort. The Dark Lord looked on, watching the progress as the heavy frame of the Shar?Vae Shade Mirror was drawn into the cart and strapped down with leather rope. While they worked, he entertained his thoughts. Thoughts of how the meeting would go, and how he?d be received by the Priestess of Lojww, and he grinned. Yes, she had left him an open invitation, and it was high time he?d made a move to accept it and treat with the sometimes volatile, sometimes demure, deadly beauty of chaos.

The deed done, and Uruviel?s troops slipping back through the gate, he dismissed the magic holding it into place, dispelling the temporary portal to Dar?Kath with a flick of his long, talon-tipped index finger. He then moved toward the most powerful of the Dhar?Nothra, his lieutenant, and spoke his command. ?Go. Send word of my coming. I donnae wish any surprises, for the priestess or myself. Knowing her as well as I do, which minimal at best, I am unsure as to whether she would receive an armed host baring strange gifts all too kindly if word of our coming were not received beforehand.?

He then turned away from the Dhar?Nothra revenant, which assumed the wraith-form once more and dematerialized into non-existence. The wraith-walk was a much swifter means of transport for these undead soldiers, and it would give the Priestess time to prepare for his arrival to Dark Lake Manor. Stepping into the wagon-master?s seat, he grabbed the reigns, and turned the horses down the small avenue leading off the mountain road toward the east.

Within moments, he was surrounded by the ancient and sprawling oaks and pines of the dark forest, the horses being guided by the Arch-Magus?s dark vision. Veighn began to whistle some somber tune to pass the time as the remainder of his guards flanked the wagon-cart on either side, ever-vigilant of their surroundings. It was going to be a long and bumpy ride, as the creaking of the cart and the whistled notes were swallowed by the deep of the forest and the great expanse of the darkening Rhy?Dinian night.