There came the specters, rushing from their feet to mingle in shapeless mists, their echoes of windy talk drifting upward to the ears of the lords. A gallery we should build, said Topar, if dismal nothing could draw from us such lifelike shades, then what would spring from grand palaces with feasts and bowls of potent spirits?

And a kingdom, Haleon eager said, and Barrus readied his tongs and anvil and his sulking was done. The specters rose to life-like shadowy form, a mist of bawdy joy carousing with wild passion, heady as the music came came from Arriana’s heart and wine flowed like air that was breathed from the verdant vine.

So specter begat specter and the tangent lords in their bliss rose mountains from the floor and blasted streaks across the sky to paint their growing joy across the billowing hills. Wine flowed from crags as the revelries spread till war and mishap proved superior in giving shape to the specters, and then rang the trumpets.

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Thus Barrus remembered the faithlessness of his bride, who sought to supplant her sister. And she turned to her own mate and asked which pair of eyes had done misdeeds. Rashomon, indignant turned to Barrus and they plotted against Haleon, weary of his might and brooding hidden nature.

Arriana pleaded with them to no effect, and the bowstring sand instead of her, singing the song of specters consumed by battle for the satisfaction of their fathers. But Haleon rode a stormwind upon them from all four corners of their secret universe, and when it proved limiting to his campaign he stretched its walls.

Rolling upon them were his specters, Not a paltry cloud but a brood well raised and strong, with the solidity of mountains and the anger if living beings they crushed the armies of their enemy to dust, forcing them to birth new legions and in the turmoil of their tempest new life grew hard and the reveilles heralded the populating of Ulro with a new kindred bred from tragedy for days of lasting woe.