[Simon Vendredi]

It would be dark soon.

Simon wandered through the camp, watching his men as they pretended to cooperate with the Montfort Authorities. He had already told them to be ready to move, now it was just a matter of opportunity.

The deal with Sinterbourne had gone well, or at least he assumed that it had. Simon knew he was under constant watch, so leaving the camp to meet with Damion was out of the question. When the homing pigeon returned with Sinterbourne's message, Simon secretly gathered three men and had them go and make the exchange. Their absence from the camp wasn't noticed... as a large tiger had somehow chosen that exact moment to escape from its cage. By the time the beast was captured, the deal was done and Simon's men had returned with the gold.

It wasn't much, but it would get him and his men as far as the next large town. They would leave everything behind, but freedom sometimes required sacrifice. Therus and his goons were determined to put the entire camp in chains. Men... animals... everything. Only Simon's hunting skills had kept them out of the dungeon so far. There were still some dangerous beasts loose, and the Montfort authorities knew absolutely NOTHING about catching wild animals. That was unfortunate, because soon they would be on their own...

"Simon-Master!" bellowed Throk. The half-orc waddled up to Simon, and then continued talking in a low whisper. "Throk ready to leave. What Throk do now? Throk make everything ready?"

"Good." said Simon. "As soon as it gets dark, distribute the reptile repellent. Make sure you're not seen. I'll release the snakes just before midnight. When the screaming starts... run. We'll meet where the drake was kept... I'll be the last one. Anyone who's not there when I arrive gets left behind."

Throk grunted and waddled off towards the supply tent. Simon returned to his own personal tent, nodding at the guards before he entered. He lay down on his cot, intending to catch a few hours sleep before the festivities began.

---

He awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his cot.

Something wasn't right.

For one, it was cold. Very cold. Simon's goosepimpled arms were wrapped around his torso; his breath billowing out in large white clouds around him. His jaw trembled slightly, causing his teeth to chatter.

"W-W-What's going on here?" he said to himself.

"It appears you have a problem..." the voice was human, smooth and very deep. Simon jumped to his feet and turned towards the unexpected visitor. At the rear of the tent was a man. A man so large that he nearly filled the entire space of the tent. His hair was perfectly white, and his eyes were blue... not the normal blue of human eyes, but a light frosty blue like the color of the winter sky.

"Allow me to introduce myself, " continued the stranger, "My name is December. Perhaps you have heard of me."

"I don't believe I have." replied Simon. He was lying. He knew the name well enough, though it wasn't from Montfort. Simon's travels had taken him to many towns where the name 'December' was spoken of in nervous whispers, if it was spoken at all. He had had no direct dealings with him before, but he knew that this was not a man to be trifled with. His mind was now racing to figure out how the stranger had gotten into the camp past the heavily armed guards.

"No matter. I have heard of you, and I am aware of the unfortunate predicament in which you have found yourself."

"I see. And what brings you to my humble camp?" said Simon. He was stalling for time. Neither he nor December had bothered to lower their voices. The guards were just outside...

"I am here to help you. A deal, of sorts."

"Sorry. I don't need any help." Simon raised his voice slightly on the last word.

"Do not bother about the guards," said December. "They will not be joining us."

"Oh." said Simon. What now?

"Now, about your...situation."

"Uh-huh..."

"I am a man of some influence. I can assist you in exchange for some assurances on your part."

"Assurances?"

"Damion VonSinterbourne. Are you familiar with that name?"

"Uhhh....."

Simon squirmed. Should he lie or not?

"Of course you are," said December.

"So?" Simon tried to swallow the lump that was rapidly building in his throat. He didn't like where this was heading. "What about him?"

"It has come to my attention that Mr. VonSinterbourne is involved in quite bit of local criminal activity."

"Yeah... so are you."

"So sorry... you must have me mistaken for some OTHER December. I am a simple jeweler. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"Then what's your business with Sinterbourne?"

"None. I am just doing my part to safeguard the citizens of Montfort. I have friends here, Mr. Vendredi. A home. A business. I will not stand idly by and watch the dregs of society drag this city into the sewers. When I discovered... purely by chance... Damion VonSinterbourne's activities, I felt compelled to act."

What a load of horse-dung. though Simon.

December continued...

"And then I found that you, Mr. Vendredi, have been doing quite a bit of business with Mr. Sinterbourne. I am afraid it was I who alerted the Montfort authorities to your involvement. However, now that I have taken the time to investigate further, I am convinced of you innocence."

"You are?"

"Yes. You could not possibly have known that the animals you sold to Mr. VonSinterbourne were being used for nefarious purposes. You had no idea WHAT he did with them, did you?"

"Ummm... If you say so."

"So now that I have had a change of heart concerning you and your menagerie, I am willing to use my influence with the authorities on your behalf."

"In exchange for what?"

"Your word that you will conduct no further business with that criminal, Damion VonSinterbourne."

"That's it?"

"Occasionally I might ask you to transport some of my jewels for me... but only when your travels coincide with one of my trade routes."

"You want me to smuggle stuff for you."

"'Smuggle' has such a negative connotation. We are talking about jewels here, Mr. Vendredi. An occasional shipment, certainly that does not tread to heavily on your sense of freedom."

"No. So I leave Damion alone and ship a few things for you. For that, I get to go free. Me. The men. The animals. Everything."

"Correct."

"How does a jewel trader gain that much influence?"

"It is political, Mr. Vendredi. I am sure that a man of your nature would find the whole matter quite boring. So... do we have an agreement?"

Simon thought for a moment. His head told him that he could agree to *anything* without worry...he would be out of the city and far beyond this man's reach well before dawn. Future deals with Damion could be conducted from a distance... no one would ever know of his involvement. His instincts, however, told him something quite different. Simon's gut knew that December would enforce this bargain no matter how great the distance. It also told him that he wasn't really being given a choice. He had plans for procuring his own freedom... but he knew that, if he denied December, he would most likely never live to carry them out...

"Deal." said Simon. He walked up to December and extended his hand. December stared at it as if Simon was offering him a handful of warm excrement. Simon retracted his hand and cleared his throat.

"Well, then. If you will excuse me..." December brushed past Simon on the way towards the front of the tent. The temperature seemed to drop by half with every step, and then rose suddenly as the white-haired jewel-trader exited the tent. Simon sneezed violently for several seconds as the sudden change in temperature stiffened his nose hairs, then he fell back onto his cot. Outside, he heard what sounded like a large group of men gathering their belongings and leaving the camp. Simon felt no relief whatsoever as he listened to the guards depart.

...what have I gotten myself into? he thought as he stared up at the tent's ceiling, By the gods... what have I gotten us all into...?

---

[Therus]

After a few drinks with his men, Therus left the Dragon's Inn and headed home. He was still slightly confused about the day's events... first there were animals running amok in the streets, then December's messenger shows up claiming to know who was responsible. Therus had taken his men and sealed off the camp, and then December arrives and claims that the whole thing had been a misunderstanding. His men grumbled, but Therus had no choice but to call off the whole thing. Or did he? December's arguments about a 'rogue necromancer' being responsible seemed plausible at the time, but now that he had a few beers in him, Therus's mind couldn't quite grasp the explanation the way it had earlier. Of course December DID offer a generous payment to make amends for wasting their valuable time...

Therus shook his head and walked up the steps to his house. The windows were dark, which caused Therus to pause. He had no idea what time it was... but surely it wasn't late enough for his wife to be asleep yet. There had to be at least one or two hours left until midnight...

Therus opened his door and stepped inside. He reached for the oil lamp that always stood on the table by the door. It wasn't there...

"Hannah?" he called. Therus heard something bump against the wall in the corner. "Hannah, is that you?"

"mmmph!" came a muffled reply.

"Hannah?" Therus stepped back outside where he quickly unslung his backpack and removed a small torch. He lit it, drew his sword, and stepped back into his house.

His wife was bound and gagged in the corner, her eyes wide with fear.

"MMMMPH!!" she cried. She jerked her head in the direction of the hallway. Therus turned to follow her eyes and was bowled over as a hard shape slammed into him. Therus was knocked out of the still-open door and hit the ground just outside. His torch rolled away, but Therus still managed to hand onto his sword. He jumped to his feet and was rewarded with a fist to the midsection.

"OOOFFF..." he cried as the air left his lungs. In the dim light of the street-lamps he caught a glimpse of his attacker. It was a man, somewhat short with bright red hair. He was naked from the waist up. The man wore what looked like a dog-collar around his neck, and had iron manacles on his arms. Long metal chains hung loose from the restraints and trailed off into the darkness.

The man's face was distorted into a scowl of such intense rage that it could not be natural.

"ARRRGGG!!" screamed the stranger. "I'm gonna KILL YOU!!"

"What! What's this about!" Therus readied his sword. The man leapt at him again, but this time Therus was ready. One slice opened up the stranger's midsection. A fatal wound if Therus had ever seen one.

Blood spattered the street and the stranger doubled over, holding his intestines in with his hands. Then he stood upright. Whole and completely unharmed.

"What the-"

The man rushed forward. He was fast. Too fast. It was pure luck that Therus had his sword pointed outward... the man impaled himself on the blade and then kept coming. Therus backed away, and watched in horror as the stranger grasped the sword protruding from his lower chest and pulled it out. The wound closed instantly, and then stranger gripped the sword on both ends and snapped it like a twig. He threw the two pieces into the night and was on top of Therus before they hit the ground.

Therus struggled to get the man off of him, but it was no use. His own meager kicks and punches seemed to have no effect, but the stranger's fists were like bricks, pummeling him into submission. He felt the back of his head crack against the stone street, and then everything grew still. He could still see and hear, but, as his consciousness faded, Therus perceived things as if he were just a bystander... as if the entire event were happening to someone else. He heard his wild attacker howl and scream like some animal. He felt the man's fingers dig into the soft flesh of neck. Surprisingly, there was no pain. His body was numb.

"That's enough!" said a voice from the darkness. "The boss want's him alive. Pull him off!"

Therus saw the wild man's chains grow tight. He heard the grunting of several men as his attacker was forcibly hauled away.

"Hold him now!" said another voice.

"Gods, he's strong!"

"I wish Oger was here... Pull!"

"..hhhhhh..." Therus tried to call for help. He knew he was loosing consciousness, and that when he woke up... IF he woke up... there would be no hope for him.

"Eh?" said a man's voice. "What's that?"

Therus saw someone standing over him, looking down. Therus couldn't make out a face, his eyesight was beginning to fade...

"He's still alive..."

"Good!" called another of the men. Therus couldn't see what was going on, but from the rattling of the chains, he guessed that the men were still trying to contain the savage.

"I guess the new formula works after all..." said a woman's voice.

"Not as well as the old one. That guy'd be in pieces by now..."

"Hey Zade! You gonna help us hold Terris?"

"Men," The woman sighed. "Somebody gather up the prisoner. Don't take all night, I've got other places to be..."

"But he's still awake..."

Therus heard footsteps, and soon there were two blurry shapes looking down at him.

"Not any more," said the woman. Something hard smacked into the side of Therus's head, and everything went black.

----------

[Lovvorn]

"Byeeee Lovvvvorrrrn...."

Lovvorn turned and smiled at the scantily clad women waving at him from the Velvet Palace. He waved back, took a deep bow, and almost lost his balance.

"Never fear, ladies," he said as he swayed in the nonexistent breeze, "I shall return."

"Come back sooooon!" A blond temptress winked at him. Lovvorn licked his lips and tasted the beer, perfume, and lipstick that had been deposited there over the last few hours.

The heavy metal door swung closed, and Lovvorn found himself standing in the main room of the PanDemonica. He had spent the past three hours in the club's 'burlesque room' where he had consumed an ungodly amount of Spiced Ale and had paid naked women to shake their private parts in the general vicinity of his face. Some of them, like the blond, had even been worth the money. Unfortunately, his coin-purse was running low. He had enough for a few more drinks, but not enough for anything more... physical.

Lovvorn claimed a nearby table and signaled for a waitress. He was checking the rune on his wrist when

his left ear began to buzz. Lovvorn jumped slightly, and then frowned. Someone in the room was talking about him... And not in a good way. The buzzing increased, and was joined by a slight burning sensation in his right ear. He was being watched.

Lovvorn scanned the room. Leonardo and the Imp were greeting patrons at the door. Several people glanced at him, but their attention wasn't concentrated enough to set off his runes. There was something going on...

He spotted the group after only a few seconds of searching. Near the center of the club, four heavily armed men were glaring at him through the crowd.

"Well, now..." said Lovvorn. "Let's just go and see what THIS is about." Lovvorn stood, but was forced back into his chair by a hand that suddenly gripped his shoulder. He looked up into the cold, frowning face of Leonardo.

"Take it outside," warned the bouncer. "You don't want to start trouble in here."

"Weren't you just up there?" Lovvorn pointed to the balcony. "How'd you get down here so fast?"

"Take it outside..." Leonardo backed away and disappeared into the shadows. Lovvorn looked up and saw him standing on the balcony, peering down at the crowd. Obviously he had teleported back to his post, but Lovvorn had detected no magic or disturbance in the ether.

"How DOES he do that?" said Lovvorn. "Almost as good as I am. Almost."

The mage stood and elbowed his way through the crowd.

"...excuse me... pardon me... watch out...excuse me...whoops! didn't mean to spill that.... pardon me..."

Soon, he found himself standing before the table of the men who had been watching him. Three of the men locked eyes with the mage, and the fourth watched the entrance. Obviously reinforcements were expected.

"May I help you gentlemen?" said Lovvorn. "I noticed you admiring me in awe... allow me to introduce myself: Lovvorn the Magnificent, at your service."

"You know Hood?" asked one of the men.

"I see I'll have to use shorter sentences." said Lovvorn, "Me Lovvorn... Make MUCH powerful magic..."

"Hood. You know Hood?"

"Ahhh... the tiny little bard living in your empty skull only knows one song, eh? Well I'm afraid I can't help you. My robe doesn't have a hood-"

"Eric Hood. You've been seen with him."

"OOOO! What a BIG sentence THAT was!" Lovvorn clapped, drawing the attention of several nearby patrons. The men glared at them until the curious onlookers found something else to amuse them.

"Sorry, don't know anything about hoods. Eric, or otherwise. Perhaps you've got me confused with-"

"Your'e then only drunk, colorblind mage I've seen in here. Must be you."

"Colorblind?" Lovvorn glanced down at his robe, which was orange with purple and pink starbursts.

"I think you should come with us. Our boss wants to have a word with you."

"Boss? OHHHH!!! I bet you're Sinty-Boy's men! How IS ole' CinderBrain? Hey... I bet MY boss can kick YOUR boss's arse. Anyone want to place a bet?"

"You comin' peacefully or not?"

"I believe that would be 'Not.' So sorry, but I've got other engagements tonight. Say... would any of you boys be willing to lend me a few coins? Just until tomorrow night-"

"I don't think you understand. You're coming with us."

"Nooo.... No, I think it's YOU who isn't quite clear. Here, let me explain it..."

"Boys..." All four men stood up and began to move toward Lovvorn..

"Waitwaitwaitwait!" shouted Lovvorn. "Haven't we forgotten something?" The mage pointed up at Leonardo and the Imp, who were carefully watching the situation from the balcony.

"No. We haven't forgotten."

"The rules say 'no fighting,'"

"We aren't going to fight. We're just going to grab you and drag you outside. No rules against that."

"ahhh... I wouldn't advise that."

"And if you use your magic, It'll be YOU who's breaking the rules. Got it?"

"Uhhhh.... no."

"PanDemonica rules say 'no magic.' You can't do anything to us. You fight back and you're breaking the rules. Now, you're coming with us."

"Ummmmm... no."

"What?"

"Well... it seems you've misunderstood one little thing."

"And what would THAT be?"

"This."

Lovvorn vanished.

---

[Eric Hood]

Eric strode down the middle of the street, hands in his pockets, eyes shifting from one dark shadow to the next. He knew he was being followed. Two men in front. Another three in back.

Eric continued to walk as if nothing were happening... no need to tip them off. In his pockets, his right hand grasped his dagger, and his left was fumbling with a single metal coin. He struggled with whether to call for help or not, but decided to wait until he knew more about the situation.

He walked for another ten minutes with no action on the part of his pursuers. Finally, Eric ducked into and ally and waited. Two men joined him.

"What's this about?" he said. The light from the streetlamp was dim, and the men had their backs to it. Eric couldn't make out their faces.

"Nothing personal, Mr. Hood." said one man. "Just a good old-fashioned boot-party. You're the guest of honor."

"What? Just the two of you?"

The men drew their swords. The three remaining men joined the party and drew their weapons as well. Eric pulled his hand out of his pocket. He was holding his knife.

"What?" snickered one of the men. "What's THAT!?"

"Look out!" said another man between giggles. "Look out he's got a knife!!"

"Let's see how many of you I can kill with this knife before one those swords touches me." said Eric calmly. "I say four. What about you?"

"I say you're dead meat."

"If you wanted me dead then one of you would have brought a crossbow and taken me out back there on the street. My guess is you want me alive, right?"

The men answered by charging.

Eric sidestepped the first man to reach him and tripped him up. He hid the ground hard and his sword skidded back into the shadows. Eric slammed his boot down on the man's neck and twisted. The wet *snap* was lost in the battle-cry of the two next thugs.

Eric ducked under a fierce slice that would have surely taken his head off. He went in low, and ran his blade across the attacker's side, leaving a deep but non-fatal cut. He leaped away suddenly and backpedaled until his back was against the wall.

"Gotcha!" yelled the swordsman before him. Sparks flew as the man's metal blade glanced off of the brick wall of the building. Eric was gone. The swordsman screamed as pain erupted from is groin. Eric had thrown himself to the ground between his attacker's legs and thrust his knife upward into the man's delicate flesh. The sword hit the ground. Eric kicked it away, leapt to his feet behind the man and then reached around to slice the wounded man's throat. Eric jerked and danced away, barely avoiding another attack. With a spin and a slice, he severed every tendon in the third attacker's wrist. Blood flowed freely. The man backed off, but was quickly replaced by one of his comrades.

Both sword and dagger flashed in the night. There was a gasp and a scream as a man's severed ear fell to the ground... followed by several fingers... and then by a clean, unbloodied sword.

"Three down," said Eric. "One wounded"

Eric faced the two remaining men. His clothes were soaked with blood, but none of it was his own.

"Get him!" shouted the leader of the band of thugs. His one remaining lackey was desperately trying to stop the blood spurting from his ruined wrist. He looked up at his leader and shook his head.

"Bah!" the leader stepped forward and readied his sword.

"You just don't learn, do y- AAGGGH!!" Eric's words were cut short when something embedded itself in his thigh. Something small and sharp. Eric took a step backwards...there was a whizzing sound in the air and another sharp pain. This time in his left shoulder.

Eric watched as the leader stepped aside. There was a shape in the darkness behind him. A woman. She made a movement... grabbed something from her belt... and pain shot down Eric's right arm. Three throwing stars had sunk deep into his flesh. Blood ran down his sleeve and dripped onto the ground, joining that of his attackers. He dropped his dagger and fell to one knee. He reached for his pocket...

the woman reached for a dark shape that was coiled at her waste...

*CRACK*

Eric was thrown backwards as the whip ripped a jagged stripe along his chest. He hit the ground hard. The night sky spun rapidly above him. He scrambled quickly to his feet, eyes searching for his dagger...

*CRACK*

... and found himself back down on his knees. A second wound had joined the first, both were bleeding profusely.

"Give up?" said the woman.

"No..." said Eric

"Good."

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

Darkness.




[To Be Continued]