Standing at the prow of the ship, Ashala rejoiced at the strong winds catching her midnight-black hair - flapping it like a pennant. The dark clouds ahead would have filled other seafarers with dread. Not Ashala. The dark clouds and wicked winds were an invitation, a challenge.
"Steady as she goes!" she shouted over her shoulder to the shipmaster, "To the Eye!"
The Party has been travelling for two days and havent spotted a thing,suddenly out on the horizon five riders appear,when they get close the group identifies them as orces,the leader is a mean looking one with many scars suddenly he raises his spear.