[Eric Hood]
Eric descended the rough steps into the noisy pit. The PanDemonica was in full swing tonight. The club's management... whoever that was... had brought in the first live entertainment in several months. Eric stood at the bottom of the steps and listened to the band for a few moments.

The group wore outlandish masks and costumes; and played instruments that Eric had never seen before. The music was fast-paced, almost hypnotic. Eric found himself tapping his foot on the stone floor in time to the song's compulsive rhythm. He looked down at his wayward foot, and it stopped moving instantly. As much as he would like to stand there, listen and...gods forbid...dance, Eric had not come to the PanDemonica to be entertained. He had work to do.

Eric elbowed his way through the crowd until he broke free near the 'rear' of the club. 'Rear' was perhaps a misnomer, for the main area consisted of a huge circular pit with a high balcony that ran around it's circumference.

That's funny, thought Eric. I could have sworn the pit was rectangular last time I was here...

Eric ignored the discrepancy and found the table he was looking for.

The booth was occupied by two men. The first was a short, chubby, dark-haired man wearing a purple robe. The man was currently stuffing his round face with some kind of unidentifiable food. He washed the fistfuls of grub down with gulps of frothy spiced ale. The man's robe was an outlandishly loud shade of purple, and was decorated with black, gold, and silver runes of various sizes. Even more runes were sewn into the robe's dark interior.

"Eric!!" shouted the man.

Eric barely recognized his name as it was garbled by a mouthful of food. The man stood and extended his hand. As Eric shook it, he noticed that the man had a large, complex design freshly tattooed onto the back of his hand.

"Laverne." said Eric.

"Lovvorn." corrected the man. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"Sure, Laverne. Scoot over." Lovvorn moved to his left and Eric sat down. He turned his attention to the table's other occupant.

The man was extremely tall, and so thin the he looked as if he had starved to death weeks ago. He wore no shirt, and the outline of his ribs could clearly be seen beneath his leathery brown skin.

"I'm surprised they let you in here, Nodoki," said Eric. "Thought this place had a rule against the undead."

The man turned his bald head slowly towards Eric, and stared at him with dark red eyes. Then he smiled, showing pristine white teeth that had all been filed down into sharp points.

Eric smiled back. He had been joking about Nodoki being one of the undead, but his joke was not far off. Nodoki was on some kind of ceremonial Path of Power, which required him to make regular trips to the underworld. He made his voyages the same way that everyone else did... he died. Each time he died and came back, Nodoki's magical abilities were increased, but an equal portion of his humanity was taken from him in exchange. Nodoki had died many, many times.

"Nice teeth," said Eric. The sharpened fangs were a new addition to Nodoki's already frightening appearance.

Nodoki merely nodded. He was a man of few words.

"I see you got a new rune," said Eric to Lovvorn.

"Yep." Lovvorn extended his arms, the rune was present on the back of both hands.

"What do they do?"

"Stone skin. Wanna see?"

"Sure."

Lovvorn ran the tips of his fingers across the runes. They glowed bright blue, and Eric felt a slight tingle in the air for just an instant. Lovvorn reached out and picked up the crystal goblet that had contained his beer. He crushed the goblet in his hands, and then ground the glass fragments into a fine powder with his palms. He blew the glass dust off of his hands and then tapped the runes again to deactivate the spell. Lovvorn's delicate hands were completely unharmed.

Eric nodded, impressed, but only slightly.

"'Tis no'ting." said Nodoki. His voice was like small rough stones being slowly ground together. Nodoki picked up his own goblet and crushed it in one hand. A large shard of glass jabbed deeply into Nodoki's palm. He calmly plucked it out and ate it. Nodoki's wounded palm oozed with a thick, black liquid for a few seconds and then the wound disappeared.

"uhh...." said Lovvorn "I don't think you're quite clear on the concept of 'stone hands.'"

"Don't need fancy drawings for power." said Nodoki.

"Hey, my runes are a lot more reliable than your spirits!"

"De spirits do what dey will. Dey are not mine to command, only to influence. Yet dere power is great- greater dan yours. Dey can see all tings."

"Oh yeah. Like what?"

"De past. De present. De future."

"Well now, what do the spirits have to say about my future, then?"

"Day say tings dat you do not want to know."

"Yeah. Uh-huh. Right."

"Day say dat dis business in Montfort does not bode well for you. Day say dat it is better dat you leave dis town... or dere will be much blood and screaming. Your blood. Your screaming."

Lovvorn's face turned a sickly shade of green as he became slightly ill.

"You're kidding, right?"

"De spirits do no lie. Not to me."

"He's kidding, right Eric? Tell me he's kidding...."

"He's pulling your chain, Lovvorn. Spirits may not lie, but I've seen HIM tell a whopper or two. Right Node?"

Nodoki gave a sinister smile. Lovvorn sighed, and relaxed a little.

"Glad you two could make it." said Eric. "You found a place to stay, yet?"

"I wouldn't mind staying right here." said Lovvorn.

"Rooms are rented by the hour here, Lovvorn."

"I know." Lovvorn smiled. "Have you seen the women in the back room back there? I thought I was in heaven.!"

"Not quite. Besides, what would they want with a short little slug like you?"

"My money's as good as anybody else's. And I'm a mage."

"Mage. Right. You can't cast a fireball without burning off all your hair. If it weren't for your runes you'd be a complete waist."

"I resent that. I never said I was a battle-mage. I don't do combat spells. Anybody can do that simple stuff-"

"Except you"

"-but it takes real talent and finesse to draw up a good set of runes."

"Speaking of runes.... did you take care of those things for the boss?"

Lovvorn smiled a wide, mischievous grin. "Ohhh yes..."

[Borrik]

Borrik was bored. He had swept the stone floor three times that day, and was about to start on his fourth tour. Not that it didn't need it. The prisoners that came in and out were always dirty. Always. And it seemed lately that there had been a steady stream of them.

Borrik glanced over at his co-worker, Therus, who sat in a chair near the iron door that led down into the prison area. Therus was bored, too... but nowhere near as industrious. Borrik hadn't known the man to sweep the floor once. Of course, Therus wasn't a guard like Borrik. He was an investigator. Borrik wanted t be an investigator once, but the job required too much thinking. For now, he was content with being the head guard.

Therus had been hanging around a lot lately; Borrik didn't know why. Ordinarily he wouldn't mind the company, but Therus was an unusually solemn and withdrawn man. He had too much on his mind and he didn't feel like sharing any of it.

There was a loud knocking sound... more like a thunderous *Boom*. The prison door. No one was supposed to be down there....

Borrik placed his hand on his sword, and Therus calmly got up and unlocked the door. A thin young man walked out, nodded to Therus and Borrik, and walked out the front door. It was DeSang, one of the messengers that delivered letters to and from the various parts in the city. He was a regular at the prison, but what was he doing downstairs?

"What's the messenger doing down there?" asked Borrik.

"Delivering a message obviously," said Therus. "I let him in when you went to get that blasted broom."

"Message! To who?!"

"One of the prisoners. Minis. An urgent message from family apparently."

"And you let him down there by HIMSELF!?"

"Yes, of course. He's unarmed, and it's not like he was going to-"

Borrik was already gone. With his sword in one hand and his iron keyring in another, the stout guard deftly unlocked the main door and dashed down the granite steps. He reached the prison level and ran full speed down the hallway. The place was dimly illuminated by torchlight... and irate prisoners shouted obscenities at him from their cells on either side. Borrik slowed, then stopped, suddenly realizing that he didn't know which cell Minis was in. It was further down this hall, or back the other way?

A short scream a brilliant flash answered his question. Six cells down from his current location. Borrik streaked onward, and grabbed a torch from the wall as he went. He approached Minis's cell and thrust the torch forward... revealing the roughly man-shaped pile of smoking ashes that had once been his prisoner.

[Agatha]

Agatha Hendragon's aging joints creaked and popped as she stooped down to retrieve the folded piece of parchment from the doorstep. There had been no one there when she answered the door, but she did think she caught site of a large black bird flying up over the roof of the house. Still, birds don't usually deliver messages.

"Who was that, mother?!?" yelled a voice from upstairs.

"Nothing, son. Just a message." Agatha stepped inside and closed the door. She remembered when they had had servants to do that sort of thing for them. Then her husband had died, and his creditors took all of the money. Liars and cheats most of them, but she lacked the resources to fight them, and Author was such a young boy at the time.

But, oh, how he'd grown. Member of the town guard... due for a promotion any day now. The old woman smiled as her heart swelled with pride. Author Hendragon...Captain of the Guard. Her smile widened. There had been some unpleasantness in town not too long ago, and since then her son had been staying with her. He was expecting the worst... but she had told him all along that everything would turn out just fine. Then news of the promotion came...

"A message for who?!?" called Author.

"Oh..." Agatha had forgotten about the paper she was holding. She turned the rough parchment over in her hand. It wasn't an envelope, just a scrap of paper folded in quarters. There no name on it. "It doesn't say," she yelled to Author, "I'll open it."

Agatha's fingers quivered as they unfolded the strange message.

It was a picture. A drawing of some kind. She couldn't recognize what it was... and she even had her doubts that the drawing was supposed to be OF anything. It appeared to be just random doodles drawn on a page... except for the fact that the lines and angles were straight and crisp; someone had taken considerable effort to create this. Agatha rotated the paper and turned it several directions, trying to make out what it was supposed to represent.

"Well??" shouted Author. "Is it for me?"

"I don't know..." As Agatha stared at the design on the paper, the crisp lines that had perplexed her so much suddenly pulsed bright blue, and then turned red. The old woman opened her mouth to gasp in surprise, but the full power of the rune burst forth before she could draw her breath...

The explosion could be heard for several miles.

[Eric, Lovvorn, Nodoki]

"So it's taken care of, then?" said Eric.

"Uh-huh." Lovvorn nodded. "I've handled everything. Mr. December won't be having any more problems out of those two."