The scene opens up to the southern part of Westcrown. The streets are lined with people going to and fro between the shops, inns, and bars though there is an eerie quiet that hangs over the area. The clanking of armor slowly gets louder and the streets quickly vacate. Row by row, the black armor gleams in the sunlight. Through the streets they march until a small wooden church comes into view. The symbol of Aroden hangs high and proud in the face of the approaching group. The church is quiet, unsuspecting. The rows of men in black stop and draw their weapons: some choose bows and others their blades.
A lanky man from the back of the group weaves his way through the mass. Once in front, he looks at the peaceful sight before him and an unsettling smile crosses his face. His long red hair looks like fire barely tamed and the glare from his glasses obscure his eyes. He raises his hands and begin weaving the arcane forces together, bending them to his will, and unleashes a fury down!
There is a sudden, loud blast. The symbol of Aroden falls.