Author's Note: Well, here's my side of the story on the collaboration with SigilElemental, this story revolves around Gravebone and Nishaven and their struggles against each other. Read Sigil's piece if you like this and remember to review!

Eyeless sockets gazed down, tracking the progress of a single cloaked figure in the darkness. The cover of night was an excellent blanket for anyone who wished to remain hidden from prying eyes.

Unless of course, there were no eyes, simply empty sockets that saw in the dark.

This lone figure remained standing at his vantage point, not worried about being spotted in the least -the human could never see him at this distance- , his own tattered cloak flapped around him in the bone-chilling midnight wind. Not that he felt it, he barely felt any sensation now, only the euphoric feeling that came with manipulating magic.

Bony hands gripping his staff and he shifted slightly before turning and ambling down the hill."Well, Gravebone?" A rasping grating voice greeted him at the base "The lone mage, he's headed for Layar as well right? Why haven't you just let me kill me?" An archer stood before him, clad in patchwork armor complete with his own tattered cloak. Atop his head was a helm of bone, rather redundant considering that the wearer himself was a skeleton.

"Be silent Banebow. I simply wanted to see him myself. As for killing him, he may yet play a part in the coming conflict." Gravebone's own voice strong despite his complete lack of vocal chords.

"Who is he anyway?"

"His name is Nishaven. The former adviser of King Rothem, and his murderer. The King-slayer. He is hunted by his own people, and of no significance to us. For the moment." Gravebone said quietly, almost whispering.

His empty sockets gazed into nothingness for a few seconds, as if remembering or thinking about something before moving past Banebow and into the graveyard they'd found, barely a few meters from the hill. A long forgotten graveyard, the stone had been withered to dust along time ago, leaving no traces.

Except for the dead of course.

Necromantic energies swirled into Gravebone's hands and he allowed a rapturous smile of exposed jaws on his face, -which given his lack of facial muscles, was rather amazing- the necromantic energies were forever a comfort. The true art always beckoned to him.

Slowly but surely, the earth around him began to shift and move, hands clawed out of the loose soil, followed by arms, heads then entire bodies. The newly risen undead groaned and straightened, brandishing their equipment from past lives, magic supplementing missing muscles. Gravebone inspected his troops, most had pieces of weapons and some of them even had pieces of rusted, disintegrating armor stuck to them. None of them had much flesh left on their bones. Gravebone frowned, or tried to. It was most likely that the corpses had been here a long time, he had resurrected an entire graveyard full of skeletons, none of the corpses recent enough to be zombies. Skeletons, while speedier and more deadly, just weren't as durable as zombies, unfortunate really, considering his use for them.

He shook his head, they would have to do. As one, the dead but not dead host began marching into the night, creaking and cracking marking their progress.

"There is no rest in war, no peace in death..."