The Hall of Assembly was one of the most ancient gathering places in all of the land. Built during the Time of Dreams, the hall was where the first gathering of men and other folk occurred as they began to lay out the rules for the world that they had awoken to. In this room, the first High King, Athelard of the Humans, had been crowned and all had pledged their allegiance. The columns that supported the marble dome almost looked like their were hewn by the dwarves, as they were well known for their stone work. However, the hall had come into creation long before any dwarf had awoken and walked the world. Some other force had created this room. Those who spent time in here could tell from the first few minutes that the room was enchanted by some magic or another that was older than any spell known on this plane of existence. It was because of the history of this room that seven wizards chose this place as where they were going to save everyone from the evil that walked it. However, the blood that stained the columns would give a casual observer the understanding that old magic does not always protect people.
Ricros Mongothsbeard, the leading wizard of the realm, slowly gathered up his personal belongings from around the room. The candle, a large white magical device of entrapment created by the woodland elves, stood in the center of the room. Inside the flame, Ricros could catch the occasional glimmer of a malevolent face. This, aside from the blood and dead bodies around the room, was the only sign of a job completed successfully. But at what cost? He looked over to the spot where his beloved Breatra Joysword, the Protector of Magic and Guardian of the woodland elves, stood while chanting the words to the capturing ritual that the heads of the Assembly had assisted with.

Everything started perfectly fine. The ritual was led by all seven leaders of the Assembly, each with their own incantation or chant to lead while they extracted the essence of darkness from the Dark One and entrapped him within the flame. However, He had somehow learned about the plan, or had some way to summon his minions because in what seemed the blink of an eye, everything had taken a horrible turn. Insted of one demon of evil, the seven had to face what seemed an army of skeleton warriors, orcs, and other unimaginable evils. The fact that Ricros was the only one still alive was a testament to the fact that some other force interceded to help them in the battle. The bodies of the other six members lay bloodied about in the room, some with all of their proper appendages, others not so lucky. And through it all, Ricros was the only one left to tell the tale.

He sighed as he gathered up the Books of Enchantment. Although the demon had been successful entrapped, Ricros needed to return to tell the members of the Assembly of the deaths that had occurred and to set up a group that would have to maintain a place in the Hall of Assembly. The candle would only last at best a month, and if the flame had somehow gotten extinguished then the magic would end. The Dark One would be trapped with the only person left to serve him – his lonesome self- for the rest of time, or until the candle had died out. Thus the need for a group to maintain the candle was obvious.

The minstrels of the land would sing the tales of bravery of these seven, once Ricros returned. Evil had been vanquished and there was a new-found peace throughout the land. However, if the Assembly did not act quickly, that peace would be very short-lived. Ricros looked at the layout of the room one last time. Being a gnome, the room was large to begin with, considering his size. However, considering how the fate of the world lay within this room and the actions that needed to be taken in it, it began to seem quite cavernous. He ran a hand through his white hair, his badge of pride for his one hundred and fifty-seven years of life he had lived thus far, and sighed. He longed for a glass of the fine port the human high lord had given him years ago. A glass of port, a warm fire to drink it in front of and . . . Tears began to well up as he looked over at Breatra. She would not be able to join him as she did every night when he would rest in front of the fire. But there was no time to dwell on what would not be. He looked one more time at the face he would never seen again, and with a way of his hands, he was gone.