In that space between sleeping and waking, when your consciousness is most open, Asvard heard a voice.  “Asvard, you have triumphed on this board, but it is time for you move onto another.” The female voice said. 

   “Who is there?” Asvard asked reaching out with his awareness.  The room Asvard was in fell away and his vision blurred and refocused to reveal a figure coming towards him. 

     “It is I, the Lady of Strategy.” Came the reply.  A tall female figure, clad in full plate with her helmet lowered rode into view on the back of a red horse.  Her shield and a lance were stowed at the sides of her saddle, and her sword hung easily at her hip.  He could feel the power from this Exarch of Tempus.  She rode up beside the cleric, crossed her arms on the horn of her saddle and leaned down to speak to him. 

     “It was I who caused you to become lost in this cursed land.  I had need of an agent who could work independently and with confidence away from direct instruction.  You could never have known, but there are pieces in motion that require countering.  Myrkul has transformed one of his followers, who now goes by the name of Count Ruger, into a vampire and has given the foul being dominion over an army of undead.  Even now they march along the Black Road across the Anauroch desert, making for the pass near Llorkh and will arrive there in three days’ time.  You must take that what you have acquired and learned and help the resistance force that is being sent even as we speak.”

Asvard was speechless.  In the days that he had been in this cursed land, it had never occurred to this that there may have been a reason for his presence.  Strahd himself had claimed that they were there for his amusement.  A surge of Asvard’s barbarian anger flared in his chest, but the Grandmaster of Lanceboard cut him off with a word.

    “You are one of mine Asvard, of course I would move you to where it best fit my strategy.  But still, you were only just a pawn when this game was in its first moves.  You were not prepared to meet with a vampire as you were but 10 days ago, so I sent you to another board, out of Myrkul sight.  The odds were long against you, yes.  But you have persevered, you have triumphed over your adversary, and have crossed the eighth rank.  No longer are you a pawn, but you have been promoted to a knight.  And as such, your new station calls for a mount.”  The Red Knight turned and whistled long and high, and from the darkness beyond Asvard heard the clattering of hooves.  “Rest now and in the morning prepare to ride to Llorkh.”

     Asvard awoke with a start.  He knew immediately that he had crossed into a new level of familiarity with his gods.  He even knew that should he call upon Tempus, there was a chance that he would receive the Lord of Battle’s direct influence.  Such awesome power and responsibility.  Asvard lay down and quickly fell to a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning when Asvard went outside, he could see an animal come galloping down the road.  Moving impossibly fast it was soon standing by Asvard’s side.  A horse with eight legs, a Sleipnir stood patiently.  On his hooves (all eight of them) were magically enhances horseshoes (Horseshoes of Speed) and around the forelegs on all his front legs were platinum bands with runes carved into them.  On his back was a saddle (Saddle of the Cavalier) with a pair of magical saddle bags (bags of holding).  As Asvard stroked the great creature’s neck, he heard a voice in his head.

“Come Priest of the Red Knight and Lord of Battles, we have many miles to cover to Llorkh.  I am Ahlerich” Said the Slepnir Telepathically.

“And my name is Asvard. Will you be staying with me in Llorkh, Ahlerich?” Asvard asked

“My kind hate the undead and I would like nothing more.  But who can tell what the future holds?  Come, we must be on our way.”

Asvard stowed his gear, climbed upon the Slepnir, and with the speed of a bolt fired from a heavy crossbow they shot away.