[Eric]

"Damion Heinrick VonSinterbourne." Lovvorn's words were surprisingly clear. They lacked his spoke his characteristic drunken slur. The loudly dressed mage was seated on a small stool in a corner of a dimly lit room. J'Hasp had curled himself up into a ball in the opposite corner. A small table sat in the center of the chamber, and before it was a large chair occupied by December. Eric Hood stood by his side, oblivious to the waves of near freezing cold being emitted by his employer. Eric had just finished giving his report on what he had seen at Sinterbourne's establishment. J'Hasp had done the same, drawing a crude map of Damion Sinterbourne's building with his claw and then reporting on overheard conversations using hisses and mewls that only December could understand. Now it was Lovvorn's turn. Eric pulled out his long, slim dagger and toyed with it as the mage spoke.

"He was started out as a member of a royal family in some dung-heap of a town not too far from here. Apparently, the royal life got to be a bit too confining for him and he set out for a few years ago along with his man-servant Fletcher. 'Man-servant.' Haven't you ever wondered just what a 'man-servant' was? Anyway, no one had heard from either of them for a while, then this Fletcher character shows up and starts harassing some of the local shopkeepers. I guess the royal mom and dad must have cut Sinty's allowance and left the lad to fend for himself. Over time, he hired himself some muscle and set up a decent little extortion business. Big enough to support his expensive tastes, but not so big that it drew any attention. Then Sinty-boy hires even MORE muscle and moves into this old inn that he bought on the other side of town. He started importing animals and buying foosh not too long after that. Pretty soon there was a drop in the homeless population around town. Only people that noticed were the bums and the local scum that like to use 'em to practice their arse-kicking skills. Word started circulating around that the Sint-Meister had some kind of weird freak-show going on in his basement. Admission was steep enough to keep out the mildly curious, but I hear he's got all the wine you can drink. Good stuff, too. Hey Eric... You didn't happen to bring a sample back with you, did ya'?"

"Nope. He had some problems with his refreshments." replied Eric.

"Oh, my. Nothing serious, I hope."

Eric shrugged.

"Well, that's all I found out."

"Good Enough." December's bass voice boomed like a small thunderclap.

"So how'd you find all that out, anyway?" asked Eric.

"You pick up all kinds of things hanging out at the Pan-Demonica. You know us drunks... always running off about something. Did you know the Inebridee Brewery had a spot of trouble last night? I might just stop by and see if any of that delicious Dark Taint is laying around unguarded..."

"That reminds me," said Eric, "It's only a few hours till dawn... how come you're not drunk yet?"

"Oh, I'm cutting back on my drinking."

Eric and December both stared incredulously at the mage. Even J'Hasp lifted his globular head and swiveled it towards Lovvorn.

"Just temporarily, of course. The bard's are throwing a festival, and the Inebridee Brewery is having this drinking contest..."

"Ohhhh....." said Eric. Both men and J'Hasp promptly turned away from Lovvorn and began ignoring him.

"So, what's next Mr. December? What's the next move?"

December stared off into the empty air for a few seconds before he spoke. He mind was mulling over all the different possibilities that this newly acquired information could manifest for him. Then he spoke, without focusing his frost-blue eyes on any particular person in the room.

"These men who fought in the bouts... did you recognize any of them?"

"Just one... he was the guy who came to your door that time. The guy with the little girl."

"Does he still live?

"I suppose so."

"He won the fight, did he not?"

"Yeah."

"J'Hasp, can you tack this man?"

J'Hasp lifted his head and hissed.

"Good. When you find him, take him to the Night's Bloom, but leave the girl unharmed. Perhaps the secret of this potion is coursing through this man's blood even as we speak. Lovvorn, summon N'Doki from whatever rock he has made home. I have need of his... talents."

"What about Sinterbourne, boss?"

"Damion VonSinterbourne is a small fish who left the relative safety of his royal pond. He is no criminal.... He is merely a child playing a man's game, mimicking what he has seen others do. This potion... it is a weapon too dangerous for a man such as him to wield. Not only must I take possession of it, but I must make sure that no one ELSE possesses it."

Eric smiled... a deeply sinister grin.

"Have you extended your invitation?" asked December.

"Yeah, boss."

"Meet with whoever he sends. Extend a generous offer, which will of course be refused."

"Then?"

"Then we shall begin to make things difficult for Damion VonSinterbourne.

-----------------------------------------

[Damion]

It was early. Very early. Dressed in some of his most regal colors, Damion mounted the slime-covered steps that led to the main entrance of the Pan-Demonica. The club would be closing at dawn... which meant that he had only about an hour to conduct his business.

As he mounted the steps, he found his path blocked by one of the establishment's drunken patrons who hadn't been able to make it as far as the street before passing out. Damion kicked the man and sent him rolling down the stone steps and into the filthy Montfort road. He then pulled out a cloth and wiped off the tip of his boot.

Satisfied that the drunk hadn't left a smudge, Damion continued up the steps and banged on the metal door at the top. The door creaked open, and Damion stepped inside.

He found himself on a balcony that ran around the perimeter of a huge, octagonal pit. The pit served as the main floor of the club, and despite the lateness of the hour, the place was packed with thieves, thugs, and rogues of every conceivable race and origin. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves... laughing, lying, arguing and generally being the unrepentant murdering scum that they were. Most were hopelessly drunk, having partaken of one or another of the hideous concoctions mixed and by the club's nameless, speechless bartender.

In any other establishment, this many criminals in one space with a limitless supply of cheap alcohol was a recipe for chaos.... But at the Pan-Demonica it was the order of the day.

Here, everyone obeyed the rules which were clearly posted in glowing, blood-red letters above the bar:

1. No Fighting - Take it outside.
2. No Telepathy
3. Pub closes at Dawn. No Exceptions
4. Stay Away from the Golems
5. No Spitting
6. Curiosity Kills - Mind Your Own Business.
7. Living Only - Undead, Stay Away!
8. Don't Stare At the IMP!
9. You Steal...You Die.
10. Mages Welcome, But Keep Your Spells to Yourself.

Every patron kept those commandments or risked the wrath of the club's security, which mainly consisted of the huge, hulking, iron golems that were positioned in every corner and outside every door. No one in their right mind would dare trifle with them, no matter how much alcohol was involved. Then there was Leonardo, the retired assassin that was the club's greeter/chief of security. His exploits, both past and present, were spoken of only in whispers.

And finally... there was the Imp. Through sheer force of will, Damion refrained from looking at the oily, winged creature that squatted atop a small pedestal beside the main door. He knew it was there. Not only did he hear it's wet, gurgling breath, but he felt the feathery tingling sensation that meant the beast was scanning him for weapons. Damion's rapier began to hum slightly, and then stopped as the scan was completed.
All patrons were magically searched in this way. They kept their weapons, of course... the management of the Pan-Demonica just liked to know who was carrying what.

"No bodyguard, Mr. Sinterbourne?" the voice belonged to a tall thin man who stepped out of the darkness to greet him. It was Leonardo.

"I'm here on business. She isn't necessary."

"Suit yourself. Going down?"

"No. I'm here to see Aeragar."

"Aeragar? Yes... Back room."

Damion nodded. There was no reason to ask WHICH back room, even though the club had many. The club's infernal magic would guide him and reveal his particular destination once he got close to it. All of the other rooms would be hidden from him. The doors would appear to be solid walls; he wouldn't even know they were there.

Damion turned and started to walk along the high balcony, but Leonardo called after him...

"Mr. Sinterbourne?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"You know the rules... club closes at dawn, no exceptions."

"Yes, yes. We'll be finished by then."

"Very good."

Damion walked onward, keeping his eye on the stone wall beside him. As he made his way along the balcony, Damion's mind drifted to the origins of the club and its strange rules. He had no idea where the Pan-Demonica came from... it just appeared one day, with no evidence of any kind of construction. The more superstitious among the patrons said that the club was summoned straight from the infernal realms... teleported completely intact from one of Hell's major cities. Others said the club traveled from city to city collecting souls. Its appearance was said to coincide with imminent disaster, destruction and death. That was utter nonsense, of course. Completely laughable.
Still, the Imp bore a striking similarity to the drawings of Hell's mini-demons that Damion had seen as a young boy. And the club DID appear shortly before the False Dawn... or was it AFTER the False Dawn...

Suddenly, the wall opened up beside Damion, revealing a hallway that was not there before. Damion spun on his heels and headed down the new path. The walls were of rough stone, unbroken by any doors or other passages. At least none that he could
see. Torches at regular intervals gave off a dull, red light. After a few yards the hallway dead-ended and another appeared. Damion made two or three more sudden turns before he found himself standing before a large wooden door. This was the place.

Damion brought his hand to the door and knocked loudly.

The door opened crisply.

[Guard]

Today a female guard was manning the door. She looked... efficient, and unmistakably evil. Her eyes were somehow too feral and too old for the delicate features of her face, and she looked fit, like a lioness looks fit. Her hair was black shot through with just a touch of silver, yet her body looked young, as if she were scarcely over eighteen. She was armed with rapier and stiletto and her svelte body was clad in a tight dress of scarlet silk slit up the sides of both legs to her waist. Her neckline plunged low revealing the top halves of her delicate pink aureoles.

[Aeragar]

Aeragar smiled evilly. "Come in Damion, have a seat and some ale if you like. A glass of cold Inebridee gold sat at Damion's place. "How's business at the arena?" Aeragar's glass looked tiny in his hand. A single hearty gulp finished what was left
in it off.

[Damion]

"Excellent!" Damion lied. "Last night's show was splendid! You should come out one night and see for yourself. Although I can't really say when the next bout will be right now, I'm sure you'll catch word of it through your own channels."

Damion sat down in an overstuffed chair, sipped his ale, and briefly eyed the guard with a lusty, yet cautious smile.

[Eva]

Eva smiled back at Damion and licked her red lips.

[Aeragar]

"It is well you are prosperous. I believe I will come to your next show, I have been assured by witnesses that your formula makes for quite an entertaining bought", Aeragar smiled thoughtfully.

[Damion]

"Indeed it does. I'll see to it that you are allowed in free of charge. Oh, most of my patrons wear masks to disguise their identities... the majority of them are quite well known about town and it just wouldn't do for one of them to be recognized. You may want to wear one... if only to fit in better with the crowd. So, how are things in your corner of the underworld?"

[Aeragar]

Aeragar nodded, "Business is good, but a product as compelling as foosh, practically sells itself." Aeragar chuckled.

[Damion]

"I'm sure it does. Well I suppose I'll get down to business. I need more foosh... same amount as last time. Is it available? If not, I might be able to get by with less."

[Aeragar]

"My usual terms hold, payment in full on delivery; delivery within 48 hours of an order placed. Assuming I have the product, which, of course, I do. That is, if you'd like to place
an order now. We can arrange an order for later, but I cannot guarantee supplies will last, though they should unless I get an unusually large order."

[Damion]

Damion sat back in the chair and thought for a second...

His usual order was quite expensive, and Simon had promised him something special from his menagerie. Unfortunately last night's profits wouldn't cover both. If he could get Zade and Fletcher to squeeze some money out of that drunken Brewmaster then he might be able to make both buys. Of course, that would mean he would have to PAY Zade first...

"Let's arrange the order for five days from today... gold on delivery. I would pay now to lock in the order, but I'm having to make a few other purchases... you know how it is. There was a little mishap with my wine last night that cut into my profits... only slightly, but it's enough. But don't worry... I'll have the money. I'm going to milk a fortune out of that drunk who runs the Inebridee Brewery. Five days should be enough to get what I need to make the buy. Anyway, I'm sure there will be enough foosh to go around... who could possibly buy that much in five days, right? So is it a deal?"

[Aeragar]

"Five days is fine, I will notify you when and where the transaction is to take place about 48 hours prior to the exchange. At that time, your supply will be guaranteed. In the unlikely event that we do unusually brisk business between now and then and cannot supply you, I will send word as soon as that becomes evident. Aeragar smiled and extended his hand."

"You know, it's none of my business, but you've always been a good customer, so I'll tell you what I know. The Inebridee brewmaster, he's some kind of priest of drunkenness. A while back there was an organization that had the ill-fortune to go up against him. His personal power is laughable. What happened made no sense at the time, and still makes none. To illustrate what happens, imagine that my hand is the hand of one of the brewmaster's drunken gods, and the ale in your glass represents the sum total of your and your organization's luck. This is what happens when you come up against that fool," Secretly, Aeragar invoked the gods of drink to his little ritual demonstration. Aeragar took up Damion's glass with his right hand near the base and let the top of the glass fall forward ashe continued to hold the bottom between two fingers. The 'luck' poured out onto the floor leaving the glass upsidedown and quite empty as it hung from Aeragar's two fingers. As the glass began to dump, Aeragar swept his pointing left index finger in an arc that crossed Damion to point at the glass with a flourish. As the last few drops dripped out, Aeragar continued, "I had never put much stock in luck, one hardly notices it... until it's gone. Do as you see fit. I do not understand it, but I would feel remiss if I did not warn you. That tippler is the worst form of uncanny bad luck."

[Damion]

"Bah..." said Damion. "Luck is the refuge of the weak and the ignorant. It exists, true enough... but to men of my...er...our skill and intelligence, it's presence or absence is completely irrelevant. But thanks for the warning. Now, I do fear that I have to attend to a few things. It's been a pleasure sitting with you..."

[Aeragar]

"Likewise," Aeragar nodded his goodbye as Damion stood.

Damion stood and walked toward the door. His mind kept going back to Aeragar's 'demonstration.' Something about it disturbed him. Damion dismissed the feeling with an absent wave of his hand. He nodded at the female guard, and then opened the door and stepped outside.

[Aeragar]

A few moments after Damion left, Aeragar smiled and looked up at his guard. "It is said that luck is a lady and that hell has no fury like a woman scorned." A laugh of pure evil filled the room.

---

[Zade]

Naked, with a foul stomach and even fouler breath, Zade tumbled out of bed and staggered to her feet. Her head throbbed, but not as much as she had been expecting. She picked up the half-empty bottle of Sinterbourne's 'spoiled' wine, placed the cork back into the mouth, and tossed the bottle into a corner.

"Ohhhh...." she moaned. At least the room hadn't started spinning. Yet.

There was a knock at the door.

"Who?" she mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. There was no response.

"I said who's there!"

"Fletcher. Open the door."

"I'm dead. Go away."

"Open the door."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to open the door."

"Damn you, Fletcher."

Zade fumbled through her pile of belongings and pulled out a thin robe, which she wrapped around her naked body. She tied the garment hurriedly, which caused the robe to fall open at the top and reveal most of her ample bosom.

Zade snatched the door open and glared at Fletcher. The thin man, dressed in his usual immaculate silks, was standing in the hallway clutching four bottles of wine in his arms. Zade eyed the bottles and looked back up at Fletcher. She gave him a sarcastic smile.

"No candy?" she said. "No flowers? You must be really new at this."

"Don't flatter yourself." replied Fletcher. "We had some trouble last night. An intruder."

"Yeah?" Zade thought back to present Blaymore had left for her in her room.

"Here...taste this." Fletcher shoved one of the wine bottles into Zade's face. Her stomach reeled at the thought of more alcohol... but that was probably just what she needed right now. She grabbed the bottle and took a swig. The fluid inside it was definitely NOT wine.

"What the Hell?" she said after she swallowed.

"Recognize it?"

"Dark Taint. Is that from last night? The show?"

"No. The ruined batch from last night was poured out... what was left of it anyway. This is straight from the cellar this morning."

"I thought the wine in the cellar was good?"

"It was. We checked it when the first batch went bad. Taste this..." He handed her another bottle.

She tasted it, and was again surprised.

"Pale Ale." she said.

"How about this one..."

Another gulp joined the others in her rapidly warming stomach.

"I don't recognize it."

"Neither do I, but I have it on good authority that it is Green Brew. Someone has been in the wine cellar."

"Nooo... Really?"

"As I said... when we tested the wine during the fight, the batch we had separated had gone bad, but the wine in the cellar was perfectly fine. But this morning they're all bad."

"How many is 'all'?"

"Every one we opened. So far we've got Spice Ale, Dark Taint, Pale Ale, Green Brew, Even gin and bourbon... everything BUT wine."

"And I suppose nobody saw anything last night."

"Not a thing. The alchemist says he heard someone scratching around outside his door-"

"He always hears something outside his door. It's his brain trying to get back into his head. What did Sinterbourne have to say?"

"He doesn't know."

"You didn't tell him?"

"Obviously not, since he doesn't know. He isn't here."

"Not here? Where is he?"

"He went to the Pan-Demonica to meet with Aeragar. Foosh deal."

"That idiot. He went to the Pan-Demonica by himself?"

"He thinks so. I sent a couple of men to follow him at least as far as the club. They won't go inside, though."

"Hell, ANYTHING can happen to him in there. Every time I walk in the door I have to fight off five or ten men. At least."

"That's no surprise considering the way you dress," spat Fletcher. "I doubt Damion will have that problem."

"You, on the other hand, would be quite a hit."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying that we'd be having this exact same conversation if I had answered the door completely naked."

"You're not too far off from that now. Put some clothes on next time."

"That's exactly what I mean. Hey..." Zade nodded at a lone guard that had appeared during the conversation and was peeking around the corner at Zade. "What do you want?"

"He's probably trying to see if you're intact." said Fletcher.

"Not in a loooong ti-"

"Not THAT way. I mean your injuries. The rumors are already starting to circulate."

"About me?"

"About your excursion to the brewery. Apparently everyone thinks the place is cursed now."

"The Brewery? Cursed? And what brought them to that conclusion?"

"I suppose you haven't heard about this morning, then."

"No. What about it?"

"Our archer, Terris woke up in a particularly foul mood and tried to kill Slimmon. When we bashed down the door Terris rushed past us and escaped. He was acting like some kind of lunatic... screaming and brandishing Slimmon's sword. He's running around loose right now. I've got some men searching for him."

"And Slimmon?"

"He'll be fine, physically. But his mental condition is unchanged from the way it was last night."

"Permanently drunk, eh?"

"More like a permanent child. Most annoying... I can almost see why Terris would want to slit the man's throat."

"What about Ogre?"

"He's in a filthy rage just like Terris. His injuries are the only thing keeping him from being dangerous. We confined him to quarters, but if he ever got his strength back he could just bash the door down and we'd have two lunatics running around. Seems you're the only one who returned from the brewery with their mind intact. More or less. Then there's the business with the wine..."

Zade nodded, and glanced at the guard, who was still eyeing her suspiciously.

"I'm all here," she said to the man, "See..." Zade whipped open her robe, exposing herself to the man. The guard gaped and ducked back behind the corner. Unfortunately, Zade's naked body was still emblazoned on his mind, causing the man to trip on his own sword and fall to the ground. The noise of armor hitting the floor made Zade wince. She wrapped the robe around herself once again.

"I wish you hadn't done that." said Fletcher. "The men have enough things to talk about..."

"Well, if you will excuse me, I've got some more sleeping to do." Zade started to close the door, but Fletcher quickly stuck his foot in the way.

"Wait." he said. "What about Terris?"

"What about him?"

"Aren't you going to help find him?"

"He's not my problem."

"The least you an do is look around in the wine cellar and see if there's anything that-"

"Did you bring any gold?"

"eh?"

"Forgotten so quickly, have we? You. Owe Me. Money. Until I get it, consider me unavailable."

"Fine," Fletcher sighed. "Be that way, then."

"Didn't know I needed your permission."

The pair stared uncomfortably at each other for a few moments, and then Zade spoke:

"Well, it's been nice chatting with you, Fletcher. Do take care..." Zade kicked Fletcher's foot out of the way and closed the door. She went to lay back down on her cot, and then stared up at the wooden ceiling. She listened. It took several minutes, but eventually she heard Fletcher's footsteps as he walked away. Zade stood and began to dress herself.

---

Despite Fletcher's claim that he had men searching the building for Terris, the hallways were almost completely deserted. Zade figured...correctly... that most of the 'searchers' were hold up in their quarters partaking of Damion Sinterbourn's 'cursed' wine. As it turned out, Zade was the one who finally captured the wayward archer.

After washing and dressing herself, Zade headed down the main stairs to the first basement level. She avoided the large, empty arena room and instead ducked down the short hallway that lead to the alchemist's quarters. One of the wall-torches was out, and the darkened passage seemed to close in around her. Close quarters had never bothered her before, yet Zade found herself yearning for wide open space. And trees. Zade's brow wrinkled when she realized how odd her train of thought was.

Trees?

A noise up ahead interrupted her. She was only halfway down the hall when Terris appeared, sword drawn and with a look of pure insanity on his face.

"ENGARDE, YOU BLOODY HARLOT!" he shouted. The archer ran towards her. For a second, Zade tensed, then she realized that this was just ordinary Terris she was dealing with. The supernatural powers of the alchemist's potion had worn off long ago, even if traces of the bloodthirsty rage still lingered.

Eschewing her whip and lethal throwing stars, Zade simply side-stepped the attack, and brought Terris to an abrupt halt with two swift kicks to the man's temple. She was sure the toe of her boot had cracked Terris' skull, but she delivered one more kick to the head just to be sure. The last one dislocated Terris' jaw and collapsed the rabid archer. When he hit the ground, Zade continued to stomp and kick at his ribcage and midsection until his struggles cease and he became a moaning, bleeding lump in the middle of the hall. Then she simply turned and continued down the hallway as if she had done nothing more than swat a particularly annoying insect.

She walked up to the alchemist's door and knocked loudly.

"I said NO!" came a shout from inside. "I'm NOT giving you any more! Go away!"

"It's me." said Zade. "Open the door."

"Who is 'me'?"

"Zade. I want to ask you about last night."

There was a pause, and then a loud *click* as the door was unlatched from within. Zade placed both hands on the thick wooden door and threw it open. The alchemist yelped and jumped out of the way just in time to avoid being knocked unconscious.

"Hey!" he yelled.

"So what did you hear?" Zade stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips. All around her were hissing vials and bubbling beakers filled with colorful, noxious chemicals. Zade sniffed, and her nose began to itch. Then sting. Finally it began to burn.

Must be all these damn chemicals, she thought. Never bothered me like this before, though. Nose must be extra-sensitive today.

"I said, what did you hear?" she repeated her question.

The small, mousy man leaned out the door, looked up an down the hall, then shoved the door closed and locked it.

"Are-Are you alone?"

"Look, I don't have time for this. Did you hear something last night or didn't you?"

"Y-Yes. What happened to that crazy man that was just out there?"

"He's taking a nap. You'll be joining him if you don't answer my question. We had an intruder last night and Fletcher says you heard something. What was it?"

"There was something scratching outside my door. Something big. Up there..." The alchemist pointed to the ceiling just above the door.

"Uh-huh. That's a pretty thick door...how do I know you didn't just imagine it?"

"Because I can hear really well! Look..." the alchemist fumbled through a collection of small vials on a nearby table, and then picked one out and held it up. "Enhanced hearing. With this, I can hear anything in the building! I have to listen, so I'll know when he comes!"

"Who?"

"Him." said the alchemist. His tone indicated that, at least to him, his answer was more than adequate.

"I don't suppose you could SEE through the door too, could you?"

"Not last night... but now I can." He went back to his table and started fumbling around. "Somewhere... somewhere in here is my potion... where did I put-"

"So who is this man you're expecting?"

The alchemist stopped searching and looked up at Zade. The look of fear slowly crept over his face.

"H-He sent you, didn't he!"

"Who?"

"He was here! Last night, I know it! He was here and he sent you! He could BE you! He stole your body, didn't he! He can do that! He stole your body and he's walking around inside you right now!"

"What are you talking about?"

"BLUE! The Blue Man!"

"Blue? Wait a minute... Blaymore?"

"AAAAIIIIIGH!!! Get away from me! I didn't see anything! I don't know anything!" The alchemist ran and hid under a table in the corner of the room.

"You're talking about Blaymore?"

"It wasn't me!" he called from his hiding place. "I didn't see anything! It was Rennan! He knows it all!"

"So THAT's what his interest is. Somebody sent him here after YOU! HA! I KNEW there was something going on."

"Rennan! Go after HIM! Not ME! I don't know anything! PLEASE don't kill me!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I've got what I came for. Thanks." Zade turned and started unlocking the door. "I'll tell you what, my friend. If Blaymore IS after you, then you won't see or hear him coming no matter WHAT potions you drink. And if you DO catch sight of him, then you can be 100% certain that where you see him is the one place where he ISN'T."

After she had opened the door, Zade looked over her shoulder and the alchemist, who was peering over the edge of his table. "BOO!" she said.

The man's head vanished back into his hiding place like a frightened prairie dog. Zade laughed and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

She found Terris not too far from where she had left him. He had apparently woken up and managed to drag himself a few body-lengths down the hall before he passed out again.

"You're in luck," Zade said to the unconscious man. "I happen to be on my way to the healer this morning. Thanks to your incompetence I got a nasty dog-bite I need to have looked at. How about you hitch a ride with me..." Zade grabbed Terris by the belt, and then slung the small man over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She took a second to settle under the weight, and then headed up the steps.

----

[Paul]

His head hurt. His vision was blurry. The very air around his smelled and tasted like blood... a taste that he was all too familiar with.

Paul looked down at his daughter she slept on her pile of rags. It was a small pile, but the rags were very nice... they had been throw out only three days ago by the new cloth peddler whose building they slept behind. Katerina had insisted that some of the rags were silk, but Paul wouldn't let her believe in fairy tales, and he certainly wasn't going to let her go around believing that a peddler would throw away good silk cloth just for them to sleep on. Still... they did FEEL like silk.

"Daddy?" Katerina was awake. "Daddy! You're back!" the girl threw herself at him. Paul snatched the girl up into his weak arms, but suddenly felt all the remaining strength drain out of him. They both collapsed. Fortunately the (silk?) bed-rags were there to break their fall.

"That was FUN!" squealed Katerina. "Can we do it again?!?"

"No. No, Kat. Daddy's tired. Let daddy rest a while okay?"

"But you're always tired! How come we don't play anymore like we used to, daddy?"

"I'm tired, Kat. Daddy doesn't feel good."

"But you NEVER feel good! Not since you started going away at night."

"I've got to work, Kat. See..." Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out four gold coins. "See what daddy brought?"

"But you don't HAVE to work! The man at the cloth store gave us the rags to sleep on... and, looky here... I've still got some gold left from what the cold man gave us. Some men tried to take it away, but some other men helped me. They were mean, but they didn't try to take my gold away like the first men. I tried to go with them so they could keep the bad men away, but they disappeared!"

"Now what did I tell you about that? Stay away from strangers-"

"But they helped me!"

"-and we don't take money from strange people. We're not beggars, Kat."

"But daddy YOU sent me up to the cold man's house, remember?"

"Just that once. And it was your idea... remember how you were screaming because you wanted to see who lived there?"

"uh-huh."

"We're not beggars. We work for what we have."

"But daddy?"

"Please, Kat. Just let me sleep a while. Don't wander off too far..." Paul drifted off into a fitful sleep that was plagued with nightmares. Monsters... giant apes with knives on their hands... and a little red and blue potion that made him invincible. The potion. Paul wanted more, but Sinterbourne had said there would be no more for a few more days. Maybe if he went and begged...

A scream woke him up. It was Katerina.

"W-What is it?"

"There was a monster over there!" She was pointing a the roof of a building across the street. There was nothing there.

"I don't see anythi-"

"But it was THERE! It was LOOKING AT US! It had claws and fangs and a long tail! Daddy, don't let the monsters get us!"

"There nothing there, Kat."

"But-"

"I said there's nothing there. Let me get some sleep and I'll go and buy you some ice cream."

"I can get my own ice cream." snorted Kat.

"Just don't wander off..." Paul was already half asleep when he heard a soft *pop.* He opened his eyes and saw a short, fat man dressed in the most outlandishly colored robe that he had ever seen. Just looking at him made Paul's eyes hurt even more.

"What's your name?" said Kat. Despite her father's words from a few moments ago, she was already walking up to the man. "My name's Kat."

"Get behind me." said Paul as he began to stand. Katerina ignored him.

"Hey, I remember you!" said Katerina. "You're the man who helped me yesterday!"

Paul staggered towards the man and shoved Katerina out of the way. He leaned in close and whispered to the stranger...

"Did Sinterbourne send you? Does he need me again? He doesn't have to pay me... just give me more stuff..."

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm not from ole Sinty-boy." replied the stranger. "But if it'll make things easier, we can just pretend that I am..." Lovvorn reached out and grabbed Paul by the shoulder. Paul jerked away, but the sudden motion made him dizzy. He lost his footing and fell to the ground. He heard Katerina scream.

"Run, Kat!" said Paul. He was so dizzy and weak that he couldn't even turn his head to see if his words were being heeded. He looked up at the man, saw him tap some strange tattoos on the back of both his hands and then reach out for him once more. Paul tried to scoot away, but he couldn't move. The stranger's hand was just a inch away from Paul's neck when the most bizarre thing happened.

[Lovvorn]

*KLANG!!*

"Hey!" Lovvorn snatched his hand back as if it had been stung by a bee. Indeed, even with the stone skin spell activated, something had managed to knock his fingers away from the bum, giving him a painful shock in the process. It felt like a sword, but there was no one here except him, the bum and the girl.

Lovvorn looked around, and saw nothing. He returned his attention to the bum.

"See," he said, "I knew I shouldn't have skipped my morning drink... Now I'm hallucinating." he reached out again...

*KA-KLANG!!*

Again, pain shot through is hand as something knocked it away.

"Who's there?" asked the mage.

Lovvorn wasn't at all surprised when a blue haze appeared out of nowhere, and began to solidify into the shape of a scimitar-wielding man dressed in a hooded blue robe. Lovvorn couldn't see the newcomer's face, because the man had a sash wrapped around his head that covered everything from the bridge of his nose down to the neck-opening of the robe.

"Leave this man alone," said the blue-robed man "What is your business here?"

"Well, if you MUST know, I'm going to take this man to a very dark place where an unpleasant acquaintance of mine is going to do nasty things to him. Satisfied?"

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." said Blaymore after a pause.

"I figured as much. And who might you be?"

"Death."

"Well, nice to meet you, Mr. Death. I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got some rather urgent business to attend to. I'll just grab what I came for and be on my way. Perhaps we can have a few drinks later..."

"I said-" Blaymore was cut short when the mage and the homeless man disappeared. No magic words. No intricate hand signals. They both just vanished. Gone.

"Damn." Blaymore turned just in time to see the homeless man's daughter disappear around the corner of the building, leaving him alone in the ally, looking very foolish.

---

[Simon]

On the outskirts of the forest just south of Montfort, Simon Vendredi wandered among his workers as they set up the tents and displays and tended to the animals. He barked an order every few minutes, but otherwise left the heavy work to his underlings. He was enervated.... he had traveled far over the last few days, pushing the caravan hard and fast. And what was worse was that there was no hunt waiting for him at the end of it. No thrill, no mortal combat, no man-against-nature. There was only Montfort and the menagerie

The menagerie wasn't his idea, the credit belonged to a colorful mercenary that he had the pleasure of working with years ago. Simon had already hunted nearly every type of animal on the continent, and had the trophies to prove it. Heads. Antlers. Pelts. A most impressive collection.

But they were all dead.

Then a traveling mercenary enlightened him. He told him that there was more sport in capturing an animal and keeping in ALIVE than there was in killing it outright. A living trophy was much more impressive than a dead one. So Simon started keeping his trophies in cages and carrying them around nearly everywhere he went. Care and feeding of the animals was expensive... as was the continuous replacement of his assistants that were constantly getting themselves killed during the hunts. And so, Simon Vendredi's Traveling menagerie was born. It had started with just a few cages, and had grown into to a caravan seventy-five wagons long. Every single animal was hunted and captured personally by Simon Vendredi... the great hunter. He made a extended circuit of every major city on the continent, and charged outrageous admission to the fat, lazy city-dwellers who wanted a taste of the wild. He despised them all, and would much rather feed the drunken slackards to the animals than let them inside his camp. But he needed the money.

The search for new, and more dangerous prey drove Simon and his hunters further and further into the wild... to the farthest reaches of Ifrean. The trips were long...the cost of supplies and men was enormous. Even the profit the menagerie brought in could barely meet his needs. So Simon sought out special 'benefactors,' men who wanted certain hard-to-find specimens for their own, usually twisted, needs. Most were willing to pay top dollar, and Damion VonSinterbourne was one these. At first, Simon never asked Damion what the beasts were for... but as Damion's requests became more and more demanding, Simon's curiosity finally won him over. Constantly wanting fiercer and more dangerous animals. Simon found that they were being used in gladiator pits of some sort, which explained Damion's constant need for fiercer, more dangerous animals. He was appalled, of course, but Damion Sinterbourne was a very rich man who paid well. Very well.

"Master haf visitor!" barked Throk as he waddled up to Simon. Simon peeked around his assistant's bulk and saw the tall, thin man waiting at the entrance to the encampment. It was Fletcher, Damion's assistant. Of all the putrid city-dwellers, Simon liked this one the very least.

"Come in, my friend!!" called Simon. His false enthusiasm never wavered when clients were around. Simon was a showman as well as a hunter...

[Fletcher]

Fletcher reluctantly entered the cluttered camp, stepping lightly and carefully so as not to soil his boots with animal droppings. He didn't SEE any droppings, but he knew that where there were animals, there was dung. He could smell it. Filthy beasts and their even filthier keepers. He hated this part of the job the most... even more than dealing with Zade. He longed to run his rapier through Simon Vendredi's throat, but that just wouldn't do... Damion would be most upset...

"Well, well , well..." said Vendredi as Fletcher approached. His every word was a shout... as if he were speaking to someone several miles away.

"Simon." Fletcher nodded. "What do you have for us this time?"

"Get right to the point, why don't you?"

"Let's not drag this out any longer than is absolutely ne-"

"Come on, Fletcher old chum! This is a menagerie! People come to see the animals! Come... let me show you my newest acquisitions!"

"I would really rather not."

[Simon]

"Come. Follow me!" Simon stomped off in an exaggerated march. He loved torturing Fletcher... even though he loathed the man, there was nothing he liked more than dragging him along through the entire camp before making a deal. He knew Fletcher hated that. Then there was always the odd chance that one of the beasts would break loose and eat him...

[Simon and Fletcher]

Simon walked up to a nearby cage and yanked off it's dingy cloth covering. Inside it was a beast that Fletcher had never seen before. It was about 6 feet tall, and must have weighted 300 stones. Its skin was a leathery gray, like an elephant, and its eyes were remarkably human. The beast was all head and throat. Its short arms ended in sharp claws that constantly scratched at the network of leather straps and metal hoops that restrained it.

"What is it?" said Fletcher, honestly curious.

"That's a banshee?"

"Banshee?"

"No...not one of those little feminine things that haunt your city cemeteries.. this here is a Southland banshee. From the barbarian lands. Thing's got a scream that can shatter stone and warp steel! They hunt ghouls in the old burial grounds. Not particularly viscous to humans... but hard as Hell to catch and restrain. That leather contraption is of my own design. Had a fellow in Connantain make it for me last time I was there. Excellent work... tends to get tangled, though."

"How much do you want for it?"

"Are you MAD! I'm not gonna sell my only banshee to you! You'd set that thing loose and it'd blast half the city to splinters and gravel! Of course... that might actually be an improvement..."

"Well what ARE you going to sell us?"

"Not just yet, friend... You haven't seen the sights yet! Follow me..." Simon covered the cage and walked over to two very large cages several yards away. Fletcher noticed that Simon was leading him further and further away from the main encampment.

"What's in these?" asked Fletcher. He heard the movements of a several animals inside.

"Glad you asked, friend." Simon snatched the cloth off of one of the cages. The beasts in side were smaller than the banshee, but much more fierce-looking. There were five cat-like creatures in the cage. Their coats were a burnt yellow, with large black spots. They resembled cheetahs, but the hair was much longer, like that of a dog or a bear. Indeed, their streamlined heads and sharp fangs were more lupine than canine. The bodies were lean and strong... huge knots of muscle bulged in their legs. As Fletcher watcher, one of the beasts bared it's teeth at him and let out a sound that was half howl and half roar.

It sent chills down Fletcher's spine.

"What are they?" said Fletcher. "Some kind of cheetah?"

"Not quite, these are felupines. Cheetahs are fast, but I've seen these things run down one of those cats and chew it to pieces in less time than it takes to blink. They're hunters... they track by movement and scent. Eyesight isn't so good, but they can see equally well...or bad... in daylight or darkness. They hunt in large packs; the leader locks onto the prey and they run it down. No matter how far or how fast... they'll follow a meal to the ends of Ifrean. And they aren't particular, either... This pack chased an eagle forty miles back to its tree, climbed it, and ate the bird and the hatchlings."

"Not much of a meal."

"Aye. They burnt more energy in the hunt than they took in from the meal. Never said they were the smartest animals..." Simon covered the cage and stepped over to the one next to it.

"More of the same in here. I got the whole pack. Nine in all. Have to separate the males from the females, though. And over here..." Simon waked a good distance further away from camp until he came to a large clearing. There were five large cages, each was covered. Simon uncovered the first to reveal what looked like an ordinary brown bear. It was resting in the corner of its cell, facing away from the men. Simon picked up a small rock and tossed it into the cage. The beast awoke and swung its mighty head over towards Fletcher, who saw immediately that it wasn't a bear.

The beast had two enormous tusks extending from the base of its elongated snout, and its teeth were unusually large and sharp. Fletcher took a few steps back.

"What kind of animal is that?"

"I have no idea. New species... or a very old one. I call it an Ursinor. Strong as hell... muscles like stone. I wrestled him bare-handed. Fully armored, of course. Get a look at those claws."

Fletcher looked. The beast had long black claws that were at least three inches long.

"Seen him cut down a tree with those things. One swipe-BAM!"

"Doesn't look particularly vicous."

"One of my men got a weee bit too close to the cage this morning. They turn very docile when they've just eaten."

"Oh." Fletcher swallowed hard.

"It's yours if you want it. Ought to give you quite a show... especially if you hold off feeding it for a day or two."

"I see. What else to you have for us?"

"Step this way..."

Fletcher followed the hunter to the next cage, which contained a pair of what looked like gigantic preying mantises. They stood seven feet tall, with long jointed appendages that they held folded in front of them. Both creatures were gathered near the front of the cage, standing perfectly still, like statues. Their large segmented eyes were fixed on Fletcher and Simon, and rotated slightly in their shallow sockets to follow the men as they walked back and forth in front of the cage.

"Chitracks." said Simon. "I guarantee you've never seen anything like them. Exoskeleton is almost like steel. See those ridges running along the arms and legs? Razor-sharp. They'll slit open a man quicker and cleaner than any blade forged by human hands. I ought to know... I've seen 'em do it."

"Why are they just standing there?"

"That's what they do. Here... watch this..." Simon picked up a long wooden pole that had been leaning against the far side of the cage. He walked over to the Chitracks and stuck the end of the pole through the bars. The giant insects followed the pole with their eyes, and even rotated their cylindrical heads ever-so-slightly in order to keep it in focus. They remained perfectly motionless until the pole was about two feet away... then there was a loud *SNAP.* The end of the pole came flying out of the cage and smacked Fletcher on the forehead. Fletcher staggered backwards, and Simon caught him just as he was about to fall.

"Are you all right?" said Simon, even his finely honed-showmanship couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice.

"What the Hell was THAT!" Fletcher regained his footing and felt his forehead. There was a bruise, but no blood.

"So sorry. Didn't expect it to come flying out between the bars like that."

"What happened?"

"Look and see..." Simon held up his pole, which had been shortened by several feet. The cut was clean and smooth, as if made by some kind of tool.

"Gods. I didn't see a thing."

"That's what they do...wait until you get close and then cut you off. Too fast to dodge, or even see for that matter. Think they'll entertain your slug-brained patrons?"

"Absolutely. How much for one of them."

"Ohhhh... You've got to take the pair."

"The pair? Why?"

"These things mate for life... they get downright unruly when you separate them. They might split up to hunt, but if one doesn't come back soon then the other starts to rampage..."

"That's what Damion wants. Rampaging animals. Blood and gore."

"Not from THESE two. They'll fight in your arena, but don't separate them for long or you'll have Hell to pay. See the bars on that cage?"

"Yes. What about them?"

"They could slice their way out of there any time they got ready. Only as long as they're together and we keep feedin' 'em, they don't WANT to get out. They're funny like that..."

"I see. So it's the pair, or no deal."

"Right. Splitting them up would cause trouble for BOTH of us."

"I see."

"Strange animals, those chitracks. Just like this fellow over here..." Damion walked across the clearing and uncovered another cage.

"BY THE GODS!!" exclaimed Fletcher. He jumped backwards several feet, turned, and was about to run off when Simon caught him by the shoulder.

"Calm down, man! It's drugged... it isn't going anywhere. Take a look..."

The beast looked like a cross between a small bear and a large wolf. It's coat was thick, and the brown fur was interwoven with what looked like strands of wire. In fact, that is exactly what it was. The creature's razor-sharp teeth and claws, as well as every bone in its body, were coated with metal.

"Razor-warg." said Simon proudly. He stuck his chest out and started to strut. "Meanest, toughest beast ever encountered by man. I'll tell you what...the gods certainly never intended for THIS beast to walk the land. Bones and teeth of metal. Fur like steel-wool. Resistant to magic..."

"What's it doing here? It'll get out!"

"Oh it can get out all right. Chew threw those bars like licorice sticks. We keep it drugged. Asleep."

"By the gods..."

"You ever hear how these things came to be?"

"Yes, I-"

"Long time ago some sorcerer built himself a castle, only he didn't trust anyone to run it but him. So he lived their alone and-"

"I know the story, Simon. How did you catch it?. And why is it here? You can't bring something like this into the city!"

"Oh, NOW you start whining about dangerous animals in the city? HA! Don't worry your little head about this beastie... he's not for sale. He's here for my own personal collection. And if he DID get out, he's more likely to head into the woods than take off for downtown Montfort. Animals don't like the cities, Fletcher. They'd rather be in THEIR home, not yours."

"So how did you catch it? No one's ever captured one before."

"True indeed. Either you kill them or they kill you. Simon Vendredi, however, had a different ending in mind. Remember the banshee from up front?"

"Yes."

"One shout knocked this fellow out cold. Only for a few seconds, mind you... but that was all we needed. We rushed in with the strongest poison we could find and had him sedated before he could kill more than five or six of my men."

"You used one animal to capture another?"

"Absolutely. That's the best way...use nature against itself and save yourself the trouble and expense of replacing an entire crew. My banshee is the best.... mass destruction from safe distance. I love it. That's the same way I captured your next purchase, by the way."

"What is it?"

"Right this way..." Simon re-covered the razor-warg's cage and ducked through some bushes and into a concealed clearing. One single cage sat in the middle of it. The heat was almost overwhelming... like walking into a blacksmith's shop. The cage was composed of solid metal, no bars or windows, and only a few small openings so whatever was inside it could breathe.

"What's inside?"

"Wait and see." Simon walked up to a small table. On it were quite a few metal tools, and a pair of heat-resistant gloves. Simon donned the gloves, and picked up what looked like a metal crank. He inserted the crank in to a hidden crevice on the cage and began to turn it.

The front of the cage began to swing out. Fletcher thought that Simon was releasing the beast, but soon he saw the cage DID have bars... they were on the inside, and the large metal plates had been fastened on top of them. As the metal was lifted away from the face of the cage, the head in the clearing increased. Fletcher and Simon were both sweating profusely by the time the metal door was fully raised and locked.

There was a lizard inside the cage. It was bright red and six feet long, not counting its considerable tail. The thing hissed at Simon as he walked past the cage and joined Fletcher some distance away.

"What do you think?" said Simon.

"That depends. What is it?"

"What? You never seen a fire drake before?"

"Drakes have wings, like dragons. And they're much bigger. Besides... even YOU wouldn't be foolish enough to bring a fire drake this close to town. Especially THIS town."

"Ahh... but this one's just a baby. Wingless. Doesn't breathe fire yet. Scales haven't fully hardened either. Not hot enough to burn its way out of that cage, but I'd keep your paper and clothes well away from him. Any man that fights this baby is going to have to do it naked."

Fletcher nodded. This did create some interesting possibilities.

"Of course he'd lose a lot of skin that way, but if your potion is all it's cracked up to be, then you'll have quite a show."

"How long before it matures?"

"He won't be breathing fire for maybe a year. By that time I'm sure one of your bedeviled blokes will get the better of him. But I guarantee he'll last longer than any beast I've sold to you before. What do you have to say now?"

"How are we supposed to keep that thing. It's too hot."

"I'll throw in the cage as a bonus. Besides, he's just showing off 'cause he hasn't been fed yet. Keep him full and he'll cool down considerably. He eats a lot, though. Meat, mostly. Live meat."

Fletcher smiled.

"We'll take it. And the Chitracks. We'll pick them up tonight."

"What about the Ursinor?"

"I wasn't impressed."

"Oh, come on now. You want to climb in that cage and test him out for yourself?"

"No. Give me a good deal and I'll consider it. Shall we return to civilization and talk money?"

"If you insist." said Simon.

Vendredi lowered the metal cage door and walked with Fletcher back to the main camp. All the while, he was entertaining the man with tales of wrestling the Ursinor and hunting the razor-warg. As they left the fire-drake's clearing, neither man saw the tall, brown-skinned man that had been standing in the clearing. He had been there all along, but had kept his appearance cloaked from both man and beast. Oblivious to the heat, the stranger walked over to the drake's cage and placed his bare hand on the metal. He stood motionless for a moment, and then stepped back.

"No, no, no... dis one will not do. Perhaps de wolf... or de bear. Yes... de bear serve well. Or maybe N'Doki let dem ALL go! Ha! Damion Sinterbourn will not sleep well tonight... not well at all..."

[To Be Continued]