It was pitch black in the cabin, except for the occasional flash of lightning poking through the older wooden planks. It took a moment for Renatus to remember where he was. The last memory he could conjure up was of a village of trolls being blown away in the desert by a tidal wave of molten lava. He shuddered as he recalled the faces of the trolls in what he concluded to be nothing more than a nightmare. They had looked right at him as the lava destroyed everything in its path, almost blaming Renatus for just standing there and watching, instead of doing something. “What would I have done,” he thought to himself. “I’m nothing more than a caravan guard. I would have died with the rest of them.” Renatus shook his head violently, which instantly became a mistake as he realized that he was still on the boat to Blood Drop, the main lizardman village on the Dagger Wound Islands. Once he was done puking his guts out (which he had done at least once an hour during this trip anyway) he promptly got back into his bunk and closed his eyes. Just before he fell into his dreamless sleep, the image of a volcano exploding came into his mind, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. The next morning Renatus woke up refreshed and ready to spend yet another boring day standing in front of the caravan, while Dadeross, the caravan’s minotaur leader, bartered with the clan leader Brekish Onefang. The plan was to haggle with Onefang until either Dadeross or Onefang were so frustrated that they would be ready to kill each other if they didn’t make the trade right then. It was a tactic that worked on everyone except for the Dark Elves. Dadeross could never make a profit when selling to the Dark Elves in Alvar, and they wouldn’t let him forget it either. Usually Renatus had to watch the caravan alone. He was, after all, their only caravan guard. This was because most bandits knew Dadeross by name, mainly because he was an experienced minotaur soldier. He had even fought side by side with Balthazar, King of all minotaurs. This trip, however, Dadeross had hired a local hand by the name of S’ton to stand guard with Renatus. This proved to be quite an annoyance for Renatus, however. S’ton was a very young lizardman, barely old enough to be trained how to use the spear. He had never even left the main island, or at least, so far as Renatus could tell. S’ton was a very curious person when it came to the main lands of Jadame, and Renatus did his best to maintain his composure while answering as little as possible. Eventually, to Renatus’ relief, S’ton stopped asked questions. In fact, he stopped talking entirely; almost as if he had something on his mind but couldn’t come up with the courage to say it. Renatus knew what his next question was going to be long before it was asked. “When did you become, you know… what you are?” asked S’ton finally. Renatus smiled. Here was a question that he loved to answer, even if that pleasure didn’t come about until recently. “Long before you were born, S’ton. In fact, I wouldn't be suprised if I existed before your parents were even in their eggs.” S’ton gave him a very astonished look, which, on a lizardman, looks absolutely ridiculous. “That would make you almost seventy years old! How is that even possible?” Renatus smiled even larger than before, finally showing his set of absolutely perfect white teeth, stained over time with a very low, dull red. “Naïve reptile, vampires are immortal.”