Anton sat at his desk on board the Dragon's Song, its great flag of the Dragons Flame fluttering in the breeze. He had spent the last few hours since arriving getting acclimatised to the climate of this new land but now he wished he hadn't, a bird had dropped a report from his contact on the land and reported of two dead men. This set his blood running, he knew that such a death must be down to one thing: black magic. He must start investigating immediately so that no more innocent souls can be tainted by this blight. By the Gods he swore that those spellcasters would have their insides strewn across the land if he found them - and he would find them, of that he was certain.
