"Awaken, dear mortal." *The woodland is dense, dark. The night returns to you. The hounds decending upon your caravan, the arrows and horns and cries of the dying. You found a ditch, you remained there, frozen throughout the night. You open your eyes.* "This is not your grave, and you are not welcome in it." *The woman sits near you, her voice softly resonates as though she's far away. She is clad in armor and a fur trimmed cloak, covering her head is a helmet wreathed in fire. The flames dance and lick through the darkness, casting a halo about her.* "I am Calisca, I was borne of this wretched land. Go, back from whence you came. There is aught here but your death." *You climb to your feet and look at the carnage. The wreckage of the caravan is still, the dead remain where they fell. Any survivors have long since been brought to the Dark Lord.* "The Fallow Knight did not spare you, mortal. His hounds will come for you. For their sport." *She rises and floats toward you with a ghostly grace. The warm glow of her fire washes over you.*