Calling in the
Favour
Martel’s gaze
swept the muddy street, looking at everything and nothing. The rain
created a dull roar inside the hood of his cloak, washing the city in
a demure coat of dreary wetness. A few sorry souls trudged here or
there in the flickering lamplights. It was a fairly typical city for
this world, if he remembered correctly, but he could feel a
noticeably depressed tone, and not just from the drizzling rain.
Pulling back the
hood of his robe as he stepped into the tav

Fox in the Hen House
Sakarath blinked as
her crimson eyes watered under contact with the suns unfamiliar
bright rays. Even before being transformed mostly human, the former
naga had not ventured from her cave in months, perhaps even years.
She was never a good time counter.
“So how does it
feel to once more bathe in the holy sun’s glory my lady?”
Sakarath turned and
glared at the scaled man, Sir Juntens, who was the defacto leader of
the group that had been the latest in a long series

The Overwhelming Tide
Sakarath watches the adventurers
slowly advance into her lair, torches waving this way and that. She
had hardly finished digesting the last group that had come looking
for her, and yet here was another full group of four spirited young
souls, just ready to be devoured. Her devilishly long tongue licked
across her wicked lips as she silently slithered back and forth
amongst the moist stalactites that made up the ceiling of her cave.
As she watched and appraised the
group,