Jurgen Schlester gazed at the looming tower in the distance. A guttural, deep-throated gurgle heralded the approach of a massive form that stank of the Grave.

"Yes, my lord Nichtfleiger," Jurgen answered. "There is our goal, and your refuge."

Jurgen smirked, knowing that sunrise was not far off. Nichtfleiger was weak and young for his kind, not powerful enough yet to summon the dark storm clouds that could protect his Undead kin from the deadly light of the sun.

"We shall make our way there soon," Jurgen said.

Placated, Nichtfleiger shambled away to care for his Fell Bats that had followed them this far. Schlester chuckled morbidly. The fool, he thought to himself. We seek the tower not for you, but for me! Within its walls lie the secrets of Toht Nemesis. Although it galled him to admit it, Jurgen knew that Toht Nemesis was more learned in the ways of necromancy than he.

"Not for much longer, old fiend," Jurgen whispered spitefully. "I am coming for you, and before this day is through, you will feel my wrath."