Neverwinter Nine
Prologue: A betrayal for Us
The old man sat at his desk, his feet on his desk
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His quill pen hit the table. Again, again, again, again, again.
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It was like the rhythmic ticking of a clock, a gentle lull at the edge of his consciousness. He was waiting, waiting for word. His patience would pay off.
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THUD
The door flew open; a sweaty and blood-streaked figure fell into the room. It straightened in an exhausted salute. "Sir, its-its-" The mussed person was clothed in simple, but serviceable royal blue cotton and wool, and her chest bore the insignia of Neverwinter, the horned eye with three black tears falling from it. Her skin had a blue tint to it, and her hair was white-purple and small lightning bolts occasionally crackled out. The old man looked up sharply. Her eyes held the wisdom of a thousand year old ghost, but were now wide in shock and fear. The woman, who held no weapons, managed to fight her shock and finish her sentence. "It's Hatthias. He's…uhm…let's just say he's not one of us anymore. He's set some undead upon the Rest. I would have sent someone else, but the hallways are bursting with zombies and the like, it wouldn't have been safe for Them." Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "Lord Nasher, orders? I need to get back to them, and soon." Nasher nodded. "You know your orders, Tymora. Has Merlana put a spot on Hatthias?" Tymora shook her head, and that was followed by Lord Nasher's swears.
"You cannot lose him, understand?"
"Yes Lord." Tymora was adjusting the straps on her hands.
"Dismissed."
The woman left the old man, and the screams of the undead could be heard throughout the keep that bloody night. The Neverwinter Nine had been betrayed by one of their own, and they don't particularly care for that.