Something was different. It was dark. There was no noise to be heard. It had been that way for quite some time yet something was different. Mac was aware. It wasn't an unexplainable darkness that surrounded him anymore. It was the darkness of one who is entombed. The silence was of the kind that could be found only in a graveyard during a calm day. Mac reached up his arms and began to move the stone slab that lay over his tomb...

and suddenly it was very bright. So it seemed to the ancient being. In actuality it was quite dark. To one who has just been awakened from a slumber lasting ages however it was near blinding.

"Macabre....". The wind seemed to be calling to him. At once he understood that the Guardian had need of him again. "My Lord.", Mac answered the darkness, "I am ready to serve once more."

Mac slowly climbed from his tomb and found himself in a small crypt. Two stone doors were directly in front of him. Stepping outside he determined his surroundings to be the boneyard near the mortal town of Yew. It had been long since he had been awake... but he felt strong. Stronger even with each passing moment. The hunger to claim the souls of mortals was beginning to stir inside him.

Wandering about the countryside Mac, that was the name most undead and orcs referred to him by, noted that most of the structures he had once been familiar with were no longer standing. He felt that was odd and wondered how long he had slumbered. "Too long..." he muttered aloud. Mac realised that either much time had passed or this wasn't really the same world he once inhabited. It was only a passing thought however... the Guardian had revived him for a purpose, and it didn't really matter where he was as long as he pleased his master.

"Whas that?", a loud and obnoxious voice bellowed. Mac knew instantly that it was a human, for they are generally the most ignorant and intrusive creatures in existance. Those few that shine are selected by the Guardian to join his ranks. This one would not be one of the latter. He was a large man, with an axe in one hand and an ale in the other. The mortal appeared to be about half as intelligent as a large rock.

"Who ya talkin to ole man?", the mortal shouted. A small grin began to cross Mac's face.

"This en's gawn batty. Musta come from Britain." Thats what the large man was about to say. About half way through two boney fingers poked through the space that used to occupy his eyes. He screamed for a bit and began rolling on the ground, blood starting to pool beneath him. Mac had originally intended to claim this ones soul but was satisfied for the moment with leaving him in this state. Some souls The Guardian would rather not come his way, or so Mac presumed. This mortal wouldn't even make a decent zombie if granted immortality. Better to let him die and go to the God of fat human men.

Mac's journey continued... and that tale can be told another time. What is important is that he was led to Ice Isle. There he found a cave full of his kin. The mortals called this place Deceit. A name he actually approved of. About time the mortals did something right. Mac entered this cave. A long hallway with many chambers on the sides lay before him. At the end of this hallway there was a doorway. In front of this doorway there was a raised platform. On this platform, there was an Ancient being... a female figure with the unmistakable look of one of an Ancient One.

"Come Mac. We have work to do here."

With that he followed Amira deeper into the dungeon, where they discussed the Guardian's plans for this new world.