-o0o-

Peter shivered in the cold dark. He looked up at the sky, a few stars showed through, but a thick layer of clouds blocked out most of them. He moved closer to the fire, the crack of the snow under his boots echoing across the camp. The howling wind had only picked up at sunset, as had the snow. Peter couldn't remember another year when winter had come so early and so hard. There was already a good inch and a half of snow on the ground, and it showed no sign of stopping. Peter scanned the horizon, but he couldn't see much with the visibility so limited by the snowfall. He could hear the footsteps of the other 2 watchmen, the cracking of the snow cutting thought the crisp, bitter night air.

A sudden crunching noise off to the west brought Peter's attention back to his duties, and his snapped his head in that direction. He couldn't see anything, but he wasn't one to be unwarily, especially having been personally been picked by Captain Brenguard for this duty. Peter drew his cutlass in one hand, and his father's old pistol in the other, and slowly made his way toward the sound, trying to be as quiet as he could. As he crept forward, another crunch sounded, this one quieter, and nearer, directly in his path. Slowly, methodically, Peter cocked his pistol, and taking a deep breath, carried on, peering thought the snow in the direction of the sound.

A rough crunch sounded behind him, and he turned to see a fist sized rock protruding out of the snow a few feet behind him. Before he had time to react, a heavy figure dove from behind him, and knocked Peter off his feet. Scrambling to regain his footing, Peter loosed his grip on his sword, needing the hand to get off the ground. Turning, he found himself face to face with a horrendous sight. The face he was peering at was almost like that of an old man, wrinkled, but with one gross difference, half of it was gone, the bone of his jaw uncovered by skin. The old man contorted his face into a wicked grin, pulled a small curved and jagged blade from a fold in his dirty cloak, and lunged at Peter. This time being prepared, Peter dodged the intended blow, and wrapped an arm around the old mans neck. With a quick move, Peter used the man's momentum against him, and pulled him off his feet, flat on his back. Putting the gun to the man's head, Peter looked with disgust at the deformed face, "who are you?'

-o0o-

Jacob stifled a yawn, and looked over to the west. he had heard quite a lot of noise from that direction, sounded like footsteps, but surely the sentry between himself and Peter would have said something if it was anything out of the ordinary. Jacob wondered how Peter was doing. The two had been friends for some time, going hunting and fishing together as kids, and before they had volunteered, they were both apprentices with the local Blacksmith.
"Oh well, might as well check, a little company wouldn't hurt anyway," he said to himself as he began to walk toward the sounds. Three steps were all he got though, before the giant bat swooped by, breaking his neck in a single instant and carrying the body off.

"I came to offer a deal to any wishing to listen," said the old man with a wicked smirk.
"What kind of deal old man?" asked Peter, trying to get some information out of the man before reporting to Brenguard.
"You, young man, wouldn't understand, what I have to offer is better appreciated by those with more years under their belt," croaked the old man with a weak laugh.
"I may be young, but I'm destined for great things, tell me what you're deal is old man, or you'll see what kind of deal my pistol can make."
"I offer the greatest gift of all, greater than power, riches, something even your Emperor can't obtain. I offer immortality."
"Immortality? You want to add me to your legion of undead? I think I'll pass," smirked Peter as he tightened his grip on the pistol.
"No! The undead are no more alive than those in coffins. Simple reanimation can be done by any old hag. The true arts of necromancy apply to the living. I myself have been taught them, and I wish to offer my services, I seek an apprentice." said the man with a wary glance at Peter's pistol.
"Tell me more" said Peter, hesitantly drawing the pistol away from the man's head, but keeping it pointed at him none the less.
"I have everything you'll ever need to know about extending your life, right here in these books," said the man, patting a thick satchel under his cloak.

Brenguard passed from under the entry flap of his tent. He headed west of the camp, to check on Peter, and have a word with him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a bit of movement, up above the line of tents. Turning, he saw the black shape cross the sky, the leathery wings unmistakable. Quickly bringing his rifle up, he sighted in on the monster, and fired. A loud screech broke the silence of the night, and men popped out of tents across the camp. Brenguard ran across the cap, jumping over a few cots along the way. He stooped over his kill. The large bat was lying awkwardly over a figure. Moving the wing out of the way, Brenguard recognized the young boy, one of the watchmen he had set.
"To arms! To arms! We're under attack!" shouted Brenguard, running from tent to tent waking the men. An attack at night, whoever had done this was serious. A true enemy, someone worthy of his time. Brenguard smiled widely as he put on his own armor. This was what he lived for!