Business was quite slow that evening. The owner and bartender of the Sandgoose sighed for the eleventh time in the last half hour as he inspected a draft glass on the wooden shelf behind the bar. Deciding the glass was not clean enough, he grabbed a rag and began to wipe it until he was thoroughly satisfied. He put the glass back on the shelf as a bead of sweat from his forehead dropped to the floor, as a fly dropped dead of exhaustion from the ceiling, as the first customer of the evening walked in.
Or rather, two customers, as the bartender noticed from a squinted eye. Both were hooded black robes, one male, one female. The male pointed a pale finger to one of the rooms, and the bartender nodded. "That'll be five gold," said the bartender, The female fingered a pouch on her belt, and gave the bartender the appropriate amount of coins. As they turned, and headed towards their room, the bartender caught a glimpse of movement in a bag thrown atop the male's shoulder. And instantly he knew they must be necromancer's from the Temple of Shadow.
Knowing that it was foolish to do so, the bartender waited a few minutes and began to sneak to peek into the two necromancer's room. He had a feeling that something was very unusual, and he stood on his toes to see into the room through the window.
The two necromancers, now with their hoods down, had begun to open the large sack. One of them pulled out a black cat, no doubt dead. The female removed a dagger from its sheath on her robes belt. She sliced the skin of the cat, letting the blood pour out. With two fingers she began to spread the blood of the cat in the shape of a star, enclosed by a circle, as the male grabbed a book and began to leaf through it.
Outside the room, in the hallway, the bartender was very concerned by what he saw, but yet knowing that nothing could happen. The necromancers from the Temple of Shadows were just fools weren't they? So the bartender stood there, watching, and he pressed his ear against the wood slightly to hear the conversation inside.
A masculine, accented voice came from within. "Sister," he said, "now we must begin to read."
"Yesss brother," was the snakelike reply.
The brother began to read aloud from the book in a tongue the bartender could not understand. The reading continued for several minutes, until a humming noise began and the two necromancer's turned silent.
And then they both screamed. The snap of wood and bone was heard, and the bartender was stricken with fear outside. The bartender turned and ran, but tripped over the leg of a chair and landed hard on the floor. He managed to turn on his back, and he heard the male necromancer choke on his own blood. The door was kicked open, knocked off of its hinges by a crimson robed and hooded figure.
The murderer strode over to the bartender and lifted him by his throat with a gauntleted hand. The bartender screamed as a blade was thrust through his stomach and out his back, and the last thing he ever saw was an ornate porcelain mask.
Many miles away, in the late hours of Bowerstone, King Sparrow of Albion had just fallen asleep, and had quite the mysterious dream...
