The first time I met the gents that compose the Nightstalkers was in a town named Lyskan which is sparcely populated and resides near the border between Dementileu and Mordent. I had been assinged to meet them by none other than Dr. Rudolph Van Richten himself. I had recently been in an adventuring group that had been decimated by a Werewolf somewhere near the southern borders of Mordent and was killing the pain of loss the only way an adventurer knows how, with a stiff drink. The barkeep didn't like my looks and was wary of my kind. It was understandable considering the rightfully deserved bad name that Vistani had gotten from the common folk. I was about to order another beer when they walked into the tavern. The were an odd bunch to say the least. One was a half-vistani as I am. He was the first other half-vistani that I had ever seen. In additon he was a gypsy. His wagon was sitting outside in the street. I noticed one man was a priest. He was a war priest by the looks of the holy symbol he wore and that is strange too considering that I had never seen any temple dedicated to such a god. The other man with the group was a strange figure with feral looks and a pale complexion. I was wary of this man so I didn't let up my guard around him, becoming more alert the closer he got. Another figure was yet another priest, this one was a man who look half-crazed and wore clothing similar to that I had seen worn around Forlorn and parts of Tepest. He spoke a language similar to those areas too, but his language was a bit different, and the difference made him more peculiar and unique to me. Lastly, but not the least of these peculiar adventurers was an elf. Elves rarely, if ever, travel openly in our lands and this was sight that put most in awe. I figured that Van Richten had chosen for me to travel with this group for a reason, so I trusted in his judgement and tried to not be too paranoid. My old habits soon started getting the better of me and I decided to keep my eyes on each of these men, not trusting them until they had proven themselves to me. They didn't say a whole lot to me when they say me, not even after I told them that I was sent by Van Richten, I suppose they trusted me as little as I trusted them. It is understandable considering the amount of betrayal that one sees in one's life. I followed these men into battle not long after I saw them. There was a zombie lord who was raising the dead in some ancient forsaken temple outside of the little town. The hero of the town, a one-time adventurer who had retired, was the target of the zombie lord's hatred. Because the hero returned to live out his life in the town, the zombie lord turned his hatred toward the citizens and it was up to us to rid them of the curse. We fought many things in that temple, and saw the ancient implements of human sacrifice once used. We barely escaped from the crumbling edifice when, after killing a juju zombie, the whole building collapsed and fell behind us. Our trip to the temple, however, was for naught, because we never found the zombie lord there. We found him back at the town, assaulting it and the retired adventurer. We had a battle with the foul being and set its wrongs to rights. The ex-adventurer was grateful to us for what we done and he gave us his beloved magical sword, Werefoe. We took the sword, thanking the man as we did, and left Dementileu. Apparently we were trying to outrun the law enforcement of the domain because I later found out, while we were in Mordent, that my friends had been in some trouble there. But that tale awaits in my next chapter....