48: Horvan

[Start from the beginning]
The villa seemed quiet as Vardala headed downstairs from her room. After the events of the previous night, she had slept in, and was surprised to discover how high the sun had been in the sky when she finally awoke. By this time, she would normally expect the villa to be bustling with morning activity, but there was no sign of anyone. Perhaps they were outside, clearing everything up.

Suppressing a yawn, and running her fingers through her hair, she walked into the villa's main living room. It looked like everyone else had finished their breakfast, and there wasn't that much left, even for a gnome's smaller stomach. She picked up an apple that had been left over, and took a bite out of it, as somebody quietly stepped into the room behind her.

"Can I get you something? There's plenty in the kitchen."

She turned, to see Horvan standing there, polite and self-effacing, as always. "No, it's all right – I can wait until lunch. Perhaps it is a little late for breakfast, anyway."

"Of course."

"Where are the others, anyway?"

"They're all out, clearing up, or just checking on things. I believe Lady Tarissa is at the temple, and Calleslyn has gone to check on her friend from the scroll shop. I'm not sure about Almandar and Dolrim; they didn't say."

47: Larimor

[Start from the beginning]

“He’s upstairs,” Ansrael told her when she arrived at the house, “you’re welcome to go on up. He told me what happened. Or some of it, at least. I gather we owe you a debt of gratitude – the whole city does.”

“It wasn’t just me,” Lady Tarissa informed the elven squire, “there were many of us involved. Including Larimor.”

“Thank you, nonetheless. I saw a lot of what happened, and I can’t imagine what it would have been like if you – all of you – hadn’t put an end to it. I’m going out to help with some of the clean-up at the temple. Larimor has been there all day, but I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.”

“Thank you, Ansreal.” She was visiting Larimor’s home, a well-appointed building, if smaller than the adventurers’ own villa, and one that, of course, he shared with his squire, at least until her knighting ceremony, which was due quite soon now. She had not been here often before, and then only for brief visits, and it was a pleasant surprise to discover that they would actually have some time alone for once.

46: Lissica

[Start from the beginning]

Tinberly sat on the edge of the fountain, swinging her legs idly as she watched the crowd go by and chatted with her best friend. Lissica was her own age, eighteen years old, and they'd grown up together, only a few streets apart. They had a lot in common, both having lost a father; in Lissica's case a southern merchant who simply never returned home one day from a long trip abroad. That showed in her fair hair and grey eyes, contrasting against the more typical dark tones of Tinberly's own.

They had a lot to talk about, as they always did, the comings and goings of the neighbourhood, the constant bustling life of the city around them. The afternoon had gone fast, and now the sun was setting, the sky starting to dim, signalling that the day was finally at an end.

"It's getting late," said Lissica, eventually, sitting beside her on the stone ledge. "Maybe  tomorrow?"

"I can't go home," said Tinberly, glancing down at her feet, "not yet."

The other girl frowned, a quizzical look on her face. "Why not? Is everything all right?"

45: Portal

[Start from the beginning]

The fireball had had the desired effect, sowing confusion among the cloaked figures conducting the ceremony. Calleslyn had, at least for the moment, saved the intended victim from her fate, but that hardly meant that the danger was over. As she had said to Dolrim just moments before, there were too many of them, and it was likely that at least some were capable of fighting back. Valmor certainly would be, and it was unlikely he was alone.

She had had no choice but to attack when she did, but she and Dolrim were heavily outnumbered. She just had to hope that the sudden explosion and magical assault had evened up the odds a little.

"I'm going to try and protect her," she told the dwarf. After all, the conspirators were surely still desperate to complete their ritual, and that would mean taking their sacrifice back. The woman was a nun, helpless against them at the best of times. Even if she tried running, the building was surrounded by a ring of undead, and that wouldn't end well. So Calleslyn had to do something.

44: Ceremony

[Start from the beginning]
Lady Tarissa bit back the angry words she had been planning when she saw the desperate look on Almandar's face. She had specifically told him to be quick when he went to talk to the bard, Yarai, and yet he had, in fact, been some hours, leaving her on her own back at the villa waiting for him. She could guess what he had been doing; she wasn't that naïve. Yet it looked as if something really had him worried, and her recriminations could wait. No matter his peccadilloes, he was an experienced adventurer, and he wouldn't look quite so rushed without good reason.

"What is it?" she asked curtly, instead of delivering her rebuke.

"It's tonight!" said the magician, somewhat breathlessly, "and the sun is almost set now! That's when they're starting it!"

"Explain," she snapped, "what have you learned?"

He visibly steadied himself, clearly flushed from having run most of the way here from… well half-way across town, presumably. "There's a ceremony that somebody has to conduct to summon this thing called 'the Presence'… I'm still not clear what it is, but it's something very powerful and demonic. It's been here since before the city even existed, and tonight, somebody is planning to summon it. It will give them power over demons, or something… Hell on Earth quite literally, or something much like it."

"Where is this ceremony? Who's behind it?"

43: Throndar

[Start from the beginning]
Throndar raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The land he was travelling through was dry and dusty, and he had not seen a cloud for days. The occasional hardy bush or thorn tree broke the monotony, but this was not a good place for living.

Not that he minded, for Throndar was a barbarian, born and raised in lands not much less harsh than this, skills and reflexes honed in a dangerous environment, to become one of the greatest warriors in his tribe. That tribe was gone now, slain by evil sorcery, and Throndar wandered the world alone, a freebooter and mercenary in search of plunder and riches.

He was a tall man, standing six feet and four inches in height, but powerfully built, with broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Like all the people of his former tribe, he wore little, especially in the warm climate of this land, with leather boots, a wide belt about his waist, a loincloth of thick fur and naught else but his sword belt and a small bag of provisions. The hot sun glistened on his bare chest, his powerful muscles well defined beneath the lightly tanned skin.

"So, when is this set, exactly? I mean, when did it happen?"

"Hush. It'll all become clear."

42: Yarai

[Start from the beginning]

It hadn't taken Almandar long to find her. If you asked those who liked their music, and knew the local entertainers, she was distinctive enough that it really took very little effort indeed to learn where she was performing tonight. He was lucky that she had been in the city at all, of course, because she often travelled elsewhere, as bards were wont to, but once he knew that she was, it had been easy enough to find the right tavern.

He heard her even before he entered the room, her clear voice floating out onto the street. The patrons were quiet, enraptured; there was no hubbub of conversation while she performed. And there she was, as he walked in to stand at the back, near the bar. A flicker of recognition, of surprise, crossed her face, but it was momentary, and her performance did not halter for a second. It was unlikely anyone else would even have noticed, such was her professionalism.

He hadn't seen her for years, for all that they had so much in common. In a way, perhaps, he had more in common with Yarai than anyone else in the city, yet he had been avoiding her. He wasn't sure how she would react to seeing him now, after all this time, and the brief flicker across her face as he had walked in was not enough to give him a clue. Perhaps she would be the one who would avoid him. He hoped not, because that would make things awkward… well, more awkward than they were going to be anyway.

He should have sought her out before, really. But instead, he had taken the obvious course, looking for records in the College library, trying to find some explanation for what had happened in the distant past, and for why it might be happening again now. Yarai knew all the old legends; she would have made an excellent source. But he had pushed the possibility to the back of his mind, putting off the inevitable encounter.