A hooded man was riding on a mule, which was slowly walking, each step forward sinking into the mud. He had a bag hanging on his left side, and a cape over him to cover from the heavy rain that made them both him and the mule drenched. He also had a staff, or a walking stick depending on who you asked, which rested on his shoulder.

The light forest began clearing up, until their was but a plain. He raised his head slightly and saw a breathtaking, but depressing sight.

The enormous castle of Gorlark was in ruins. There were several breaches across the great walls, and the huge steel gate was mostly destroyed. The main tower, an enormous square structure had collapsed, taking many buildings with it. The Grand Hall, however had holded, despite many rocks falling on it.

A little smile formed on his lips. "That will make my job a lot easier." He swinged himself off the saddle, and lead the mule in, holding the reins in the left hand and his staff in the righ.

He walked though the gate, and eventually found the stables. The roof had collapsed, but outside there were some sticks in the ground. He bound the reins of his mule to one of them.

He began taking the saddle off by loosening the belt under the horse, but hesitated, and then tightened the belt again. The mule turned its head and looked at him.

"Sorry old boy, I may have use to you soon." He said with a guilty tone. The mule looked at him with blaming eyes. Or that's what it felt like for him. He shaked his head. "I must be growing old, talking with a mule." He clapped it on the back and walked towards the Grand Hall.

The three meter tall wooden gate was blocked by rocks. It was impossible to open. He walked up close, and then pointed the tip of his staff at the gate. The wood was rotten.

He drew the staff a little back, and slammed it into the wood. A shockwave tore through it, making a hole. He proceed to enlargen it with his hands, tearing pieces of wood off until he could come though the hole.

It was dark, only a sole ray of light came through the opening in the gate. Looking up, he could barely see the stone roof. He strolled to the end of the Grand Hall, and he saw a skeleton with an arrow through the skull. It had light armor, and a worn out cape. He kneeled beside it.

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"Rowena. I'm sorry." He whispered, while taking out the arrow and tossing it over his shoulder. "To think they left you to rot here."

He touched the skulls bone cheek, and then suddenly stood up and walked up to the throne, build against the wall. It was made of stone, and truly majestic, with an complicated and beautiful pattern carved into it.

Without a sound, he slammed the staff against the throne, creating a loud sound which resonated in the Hall. The throne was pierced, and a small hole was made. he repeated the action a few times, and created another hole he could come though.

A small light erupted from the tip of his staff, along with some smoke. He looked around, and noticed a grave. It was crudely made, and he hurriedly opened it. Inside, there was a corpse, with torn black clothes.

He took a wand from his bag. It was white, like cleaned bones, with a pale miniature serpent circling around it. He put it next to the corpse and then retrieved a hammer from his bag, and smashed it into the face of the corpse, but it only cracked the decaying skull. He did it again and again until it shattered, and then took two short knifes from the bag, after he had dropped his hammer on the ground.

He sticked knives in the head, and opened the head. A faint red light emerged. He smiled, and put his hand in the head, and retrieved a red glowing stone.

He picked up the wand, and touched the stone. Slowly, the glowing stone's light faded, until it lost all colour, and became a transparent stone.

The wand seemingly didn't change. but he could feel it. Feel the trapped entity slowly waking up.

"Let's find you a good host, Mylord Adalwulf." He said, and put the wand back in the bag.