Darkness surrounds them, though the sheer lack of light combined with the piercing shrieks in the distance brings phantoms to dance before their eyes. Perhaps some of them are more than phantoms. A disturbing thought, but one that can't be chased away.

"Where are we, Rhisiart?" asks Artemis d'Riveroak, cradling her child. "The last thing I remember, I was with one of the castle servants - Abharrach, his name was. We were on our way to the eastern continent to seek out a legendary stronghold...and then the night itself attacked us, and I was here, along with Cassandra."

"It was the same way with me," Rhisiart Moonwalker replies. "I was seeking out an inventor I'd heard of, when I too was attacked by the darkness itself and transported here. Where are we? I have my suspicions. I pray to all the gods that ever were, or are, or will be that I'm wrong."

"Oh, I can't imagine you're wrong, old friend," says a third, very familiar voice. "When have I ever known you to be wrong?"

Rhisiart turns to face the figure emerging from the darkness. His eyes narrow as he speaks one word - the only word required.

"Bonhurst."

(OOC: Hey, as long as I'm waiting for Torlax to catch up to Malach's plots...)