Xeranad looked at the decimated forces of his goblin platoon and cursed to himself under his breath. This was not how it was supposed to happen. He planned it all out so perfectly... and all it took to have it come crashing down around him was a moment of hesitation. It made him sick to think of the weakness in his heart... why was he proud of his own defeat? It made no sense whatsoever.
"Having trouble now, are we, Xer?" A mocking voice muttered from behind.
Xeranad turned and saw a man dressed in a dark red vest, too short for him by multiple sizes, which exposed his navel. He had a long flowing waist cloak, the tattered remains of his magus robe, and two swords hung from his belt. He had blond hair, and lines beneath his eyes. "Cypher... what do I owe this unexpected, and if I may say so, UNWANTED visit?"
"Oh, Xery, I'm crushed. We're pals, aren't we?" The rogue laughed at his little joke, which irritated Xeranad further.
"What message do you bring from that walking bag of bones, Gothmog? Tell that jerk of a necromancer that I have things under control... I don't need any help from a narcissistic mageknight and a feeble old man who can barely raise his arms nowadays." Xeranad scowled at Cypher Nullcero.
"You realize that such insolence would be seen as treason against the Order of Akashka. You really should mind your manners around me. Besides, there are more people within the order than you, me, and Gothmog Necrosia." Cypher cooed.
"Just get out of my sight. I will succeed in my plans, and then we can move on with Gothmog's little scheme." Xeranad muttered.
"Fine, I will. But know this: try anything funny, and you will die before you have a chance to scream." Cypher threatened before leaving. Xeranad stood there and shook his head.
"By the time you realize what I'm doing, it'll be too late."