Chapter One: Burning of Sandpoint

Sandpoint, 1st day of Rova, 4707 AR

It was dusk. Droves of excited sightseers and locals were milling about the Sandpoint town square. It was the day of the Swallowtail Festival, a celebration of the goddess Desna, as well as the day the new church of Desna was to be consecrated in her name. The milling crowd had been enjoying the festivities all day and now they were just waiting for the main event, the consecration. However, though many in the crowd were preoccupied looking towards the center area where the head priest of the church was to perform the ritualistic ceremony, there was one attendee that seem entirely uninterested in the delights around him.

Stand against one of the buildings that ringed the town square, the man's eyes scanned the crowd relentlessly, taking in everything, missing nothing. He was tall, over 6 feet, with tanned skin and pure white hair. His eyes were yellow and silted, like a cat's, and the lower half of his face was covered by a scarf. He wore a long, black leather overcoat over a black, unremarkable tunic and breeches. His boots were also black and, though they were obviously well worn, showed no scuff marks or dirt.

"Are you sure about this Aramil," whispered the man. His voice was soft and calm. "I doubt this town has enough intrigue to fill a thimble."

"Patience," replied a quiet, airy voice. The voice seemed to emanate from thin air. "This is what I do. If I say something will happen, it will happen."

"Well you got any idea as to when it will happen?" asked the man with exasperation

"I believe we are approaching the pivotal moment now," replied the voice as the head priest began to ascend the platform in the center of the square. At a single from the priest a thunderstone is struck, it deafening bang calling the people to turn their attention to where the father stood, his arms raised in welcome. Yet, before the priest can even clear his throat a woman's scream cut through the newly silent crowd. Another scream soon joins the first, followed swiftly by something else; strange, high-pitched shrieks, not in fear, but in glee. The crowd parted, scattering about in a confused panic as something low to the ground raced through them. A dog yelped in pain as its throat was cut open from ear to ear. As the dog fell to the ground dead a strange, horrid chant could be heard, sung by shrill, scratchy voices.

"Goblins chew and goblins bite,
Goblins cut and goblins fight.
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!

Goblins race and goblins jump,
Goblins slash and goblins bump.
Burn the skin and mash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead.

Chase the baby, catch the pup,
Bonk the head to shut it up.
Bones be cracked, flesh be chewed,
We be goblins! You be food!"

Throughout all this the man has been watching the goblins running about, he's eyes fix particularly on the goblin that slew the dog. Taking his hand out from his pockets, hands adorned with long, thin, sharp, claw like nails, he darts forward, stabbing his hand into the goblin that dog killing goblin, who had just darted under a nearby wagon. The attack easy pierced through the goblins heart, killing it instantly, and garnering the attention of two other nearby goblins.

"Mech mel!" screeched the goblins as they darted towards him. Rocking backwards the man dodge one of the goblins swings. As the other swung at him he deftly spun around him, missing the goblins blade by a hair length, as he slashing the goblin in the back with his claws. Jumping back, he dodge two more attacks from the first goblin before slitting it's throat with a quick slash.

"That was uncharacteristic of you," said the invisible voice.

"I like dogs," was the short reply. All around him was chaos. Goblins were running about, screaming, singing, and slashing indiscriminately. Suddenly a bloom of fire erupts as a group of five goblins set a cart of fuel ablaze.

"Going to deal with them too?" asked the invisible voice.

"Might as well," replied the man. "I've never been one to quit once I've started something." The man silently moved towards the goblins, who were far to enthralled by the fire to notice him coming. Reaching the goblins, the man positions himself behind the one singing raises his hand, and stabs it through the heart. The other goblins yelped in surprise but before they could even turn to attack he had already kill two more.

"Draal!" screamed one of the goblins as it slashed at him. The man easy moved out of the way.

"Draal!" screamed the other goblin, as it attacked from the other side. The man turned on the spot, whirling out of the way of the incoming blade and, at the same time, slashing both of the goblins across the throat.

"You're getting your hand all dirty," said the invisible voice, with what seemed to be a touch of amusement.

"Occupational hazard." The goblins assault was getting out of hand. Their recklessness was causing more damage to their numbers than to the people of Sandpoint. One goblin, trying to pounce on a would be victim, over shot his jump and land on his head, snapping his neck. Another throw a burning torch at a fleeing bystander only to miss and light a fellow goblins armor on fire.

"Not exactly the smart bunch are they," said the disembodied voice.

"No, can't say that they are," replied the man. "This shouldn't last much . . . wait do you hear that?"

"If you mean the barks of a dog in distress then yes. Let me guess, off to save the dog aren't you?" For answer the man simply raced off towards the sound of the frantically barking dog. Racing through the town square, rushing past cowering victims and the corpses of goblins that had died to their own reckless abandon, the man turn the corner just as a big goblin atop a mutated, disease riddled hound cut down the barking dog with its halberd, the dog's owner hiding behind a rain barrel. In the excitement of the kill, the goblin didn't notice the tall man slip behind him until he was already dead. The other goblins, who had crawled out from their hiding places after the dog had died, raised their swords to attack the man and the hound the larger goblin had been riding on turn to bite at the him.

The nearest goblin, who it seems was particularly alacritous, charged at the man blade swinging. The man easy jump over the blade and, as he descended slashed both the hound and his attacker, slitting the goblins throat and beheading the hound. The other goblins charged in only for the man to avoid their attacks with a back handspring. As the man landed, however, his foot slipped on a puddle of blood and he landed flat on his back. The man readied him to try and dodge the goblins as they charged forward. As they were about to plunge their sword towards him a voice cried out.

"Ardens Manus." A cone of searing flame bellowed the over the goblins, barely missing the man on the ground. The goblins fell over, their skin blacked, they're eyes glazed.

"You're getting sloppy," said an airy voice. Turning his head the man on the ground saw a wispy looking man floating ten feet in the air. He was pale, with long black hair, pointed ears, and shining blue eyes. He wore long, flowing robes that seemed to bellow about him, as did his hair. He's entire appearance made it seems as though he had simply draped himself on the winds.

"I was fine," said the man as he stood up. "There was no need for you to intervene."

"Perhaps," replied the other, "but even I tire of my apathy."

"Thank you!" The man who had been hiding behind the rain barrels had come forward as the two were talking. He was a young man with fine features and brown hair. "Thank you for saving my life. You both must be exceptionally skilled fighters. My name is Aldern Foxglove. By what names might I call you good sir?"

"Aramil Softbreeze," replied the man in the air.

"My name is of no importance," replied the other man. "But, if you must call me something, you may call me Whisper."

"Sir Aramil, Sir Whisper, thank you again for my life. I would not be here now if it were not for you." Aldern looked around him nervously. "If you would excuse me, I wish to find a safer locale than this open street. I will be in town for a few more days. If you were to come to the Rusty Dragon I would like to reward you for saving my life."

"Reward is it," said Whisper, his eyes twinkling. "Well we'll definitely turn up for that. How does tomorrow sound? Around Noon?"

"That sound perfect," said Aldern. "Now if you will excuse me, I think I shall endevour to find that safer locale." And with that the young man hurried off down a side street.

"I told you something was going to happen," said Aramil lazily.

"I'd hardly call a goblin attack 'something'," quipped Whisper.

"Oh? Perhaps you were too busy playing the hero to notice. Take another look at the goblins." Whisper looked down at the goblins, his eyes scanning every detail.

"Wait . . . they aren't of the same tribe."

"Exactly. Furthermore, goblins aren't exactly the smartest of creatures. It is highly improbably that they could have organized something like this. There's something, or someone as the case may be, at work here. 5 years ago some strange happens occurred in this town. That's why I started investigating it in the first place."

"Do you think it could have something to do with what we are looking for?"

"Possibly. It's as good a lead as any."

"Well perhaps it time for a reunion?"

Korvosa, 1st day of Rova, 4707 AR

The two guardsmen had successfully led the shy young girl who had asked them for directions into a dark alley. Now they shoved her against the stone wall of the alley, their greedy hand clawing over her.

"Stop. You don't want to do this." The girl's voice, which a slight twang to it, was soft, almost calm. Neither of the men seemed to notice her apparent apathy.

"Oh that's where you're wrong," sneered one of the men as he clamped his hand over her mouth. "We really want to do this. After all, you ask for this; walking around so weak and frail looking." The girl was indeed frail looking, barely more than skin and bones. The girl looked as though a strong wind might knock her over. Her black hair tumbled about her pretty face, covering her blue eye, while her green eye started at a point just beyond the two men.

"Yeah," agreed the other as he reached into her leggings. "You can't just walk around unchaperoned and expect nothing to happen to ya. It's time for you to learn an important lesson and I'm more than happy to teach it to ya, ya little slu . . . ." The man was cut off mid word as an earth breaker smash into his head from above, leaving nothing but a mangled mess of blood and limbs.

"By the gods?" screamed the other man. He turned around to find himself facing a towering orc. Grey skinned and black haired, the orc was a solid wall of rippling muscles. He glared down at the man, fury blazing in his dark brown eyes.

"I did try to tell you," said the girl as she reached out and touched the man's chest. There was a hiss as acid bellowed out of her hand and began to eat away at the man's chest. He let out a final scream before fall to the ground, his torso melted.

"Sar-do-nex ok?" asked the orc, his voice a deep, low rumble.

"I'm fine," replied the girl nonchalantly. "This isn't the first time this has happened. Men are such insufferable boars. Oh, not you Reeves sweetie," she added quickly. At her words the orc had started to mope. "You're different. You, Aramil, Whisper, Stark, and Dom would never take advantage of a girl like this disgusting louts. Although, I suppose we should probably get rid of their bodies. The Korvosa guards might not be too keen on with us killing two of their own.

"How we gonna do that?"

"Leave that to me sweetie. I am, after all, the lovely and fabulous Sardonyx Vermilion." Raising her hands in front of her, palms down, Sardonyx began to chant.

"In water dwells the snapping jaw,
Bring to me the deadly maw."

With her last words she flung her arms wide and opened her eyes, which were glowing with a bright white light. Light swirled in front of her for a few seconds before fading away to reveal a crocodile standing in front of her.

"Be a dear and get rid of this mess," ordered Sardonyx. The crocodile immediately began to rip apart the corpses, consuming them, clothes and all.

"Well that's done," said Sardonyx with a smile. "Now then, hopefully we can . . . .," she was interrupted by a rattling sound. Turning, she looked down at the pouch she had tied to her waist. The contents was jumping about inside the bag.

"Stones awake," said Reeves. "Someone found something."

"Well it's about time," said Sardonyx as she untied the pouch. Crouching down she poured about 20 runestones onto the ground. The stone immediately began to move about on their own, forming a small circle. Once they were configured, the runes on the stones began to glow. A strange mist seemed to rise up from the stones and hang a few inches above the ground, never leaving the perimeter of the circle. The mist soon began to condense until it form a transparent picture. A small town along a coast line slowly became visible and golden words sprung into existence under the image; Sandpoint.

"Seems we are to head to Sandpoint," said Sardonyx as she gathered up the runestones and stuffed them back into her pouch. "Well head out tomorrow, far too late now. We should probably get horses. Need to get there as soon as possible. This is the first lead we've gotten in over six months.

"Will be nice to see all again," said Reeves.

"Yes," said Sardonyx with a smile, "it will at that." As she stood up gauzy shawl she wore over her light tunic slipped down to reveal a small tattoo atop her left shoulder blade; a black-inked hound with gleaming green eyes. With shrug of her shoulder Sardonyx fixed her shawl and turn to see the progress that the crocodile had made on the corpses

Magnimar, 1st day of Rova, 4707 AR

A large crowd had gathered to listen to the impromptu concert, conducted by the famous maestro Dominic de Martel. At the request of the Lord-Mayor of Magnimar, he had gather as many skilled musicians as he could find and prepared a concert for the town to enjoy, free of charge. The concert had been going on for two hours and was finally drawing to a close. The last composition to be played was called "Birth of New Light" a piece that Dominic had written himself. Its finale featured a cacophonous crescendo as every musician struck, blew, sawed, or plucked their loudest note.

The choice to perform this piece was not entirely arbitrary. The sound of the crescendo was capable of drowning out even the roar of thunderstone. On top of that, the musicians Dominic had gather were no ordinary musicians. Each and everyone one of them was a bard and they were using the bardic powers to fascinate the audience, captivating them with the rich and whimsical notes of Dominic's composition. This was exactly what the man on the roof top wanted.

Hidden high above the gathered crowd was tall, thin, grey skinned man. In his hand he held a musket, which was pointed directly at the crowd. His sharp yellow eyes were fixed upon a target, patiently waiting as the concert began to reach its conclusion. Strikingly handsome, the man's firm jaw was set as he locked onto his target. A light wind ruffled his black hair and the feather of the pair of ebony wings that protruded from his back, but still he didn't move. He wait, silently, unmovingly, until the cacophonous note finally rang out through the city square. The builds of the square bounced the sound back towards the listeners. So loud was the wave of sound that emanated from the musicians that the audience never heard the shot fire from the man's musket; fired in perfect synchronization with the musical cacophony. So fascinated were that they didn't see one of their number, a dignitary from Chiliax fall to the floor, a perfect hole through the back of his head. By the time anyone noticed anything had happened, the man on the roof had flown away into the night. The bullet would never be found.

Several hours later, Dominic de Martel arrived at the lavish inn he had been staying at. Once the Magnimarian guard had become aware of the murder they had taken him into protective custody, surrounding him with a detail of guards and hiding him until they were certain that the danger had passed. Now, an hour after night fall, he was finally allowed to return to his room, a pack of gold from the Lord-Mayor as an apology for the unpleasantness in hand. Entering his grandiose room, the bill of which would now be handled by the Lord-Mayor as well, he walked over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room.

Dominic was unnaturally beautiful, with golden hair, dancing green eyes, and glowing, cream colored skin. He was dressed in the finest of clothes, the style express his position as a conductor. Tucked behind his right ear was his conductor's baton, a thin, beautifully carved stick of white pine.

"You left you sword in the room," said a low, soft voice.

"I do not need it while I was conducting," replied Dominic as he brush stray dust from his clothes. His voice was light and full of inflection. "And how long are you going to sit in my window Stark, it is very rude." Turning Dominic faced the sniper, who sat on the window frame, which black wings bellowing behind him.

"The runestone activated while you were away," said Stark as he slipped into the room and shut the window. "It seems there's a lead in Sandpoint."

"Well that is not very far from here," said Dominic excitedly. "It should only take us a day to get there. Sandpoint . . . hmm, they worship Desna primarily I believe. I'll have to pull out my purple and black wardrobe."

Lepidstadt, 1st day of Rova, 4707 AR

A young acolyte raced through the church hallways, a rattling bag clutched tightly in his hands. Reaching a pair of double doors, the boy double over trying desperately to catch his breath. Only after his breathing had steady did he knock on the door in front of him. After a few moments he knocked again, this time with much more urgency. After another few minute of waiting he tried the door. It open easily.

"Hello?" asked the boy as he stuck his head through the gap between the doors. "Lady Arielanna? Are you there?"

"Enter my dear," said a soft, cultivated voice. The boy slipped into the room. It was dark, lit only by a few candles. As his eyes began to adjust to the gloom he started to notice the lavish furnishing around him. Suddenly there was the sound of water being disturbed. He turned to look in the direction of the sounds and his jaw dropped. A naked woman stood at the edge of a small pool in the center of the room. He was just able to see what seemed be a tattoo on her left shoulder before she turned to face him, water dripping of her bare breast. The boy could feel his temperature rising.

She was gorgeous, with a slender, full figure and pale white skin that seem to give off a faint blue glow. She was completely smooth from top to bottom, except for her eyebrows and waist length hair (which were both the color of a clear summer sky). As she walked towards the boy he felt as though his heart was going to explode out of his chest. She reached out a hand towards him, her ice blue eyes, which seemed somewhat clouded, staring down at him kindly.

"Am I to assume that is for me?" she asked. Her voice seemed to make the boy's head swim.

"Uhhh . . . ummm . . . uhh . . . yes ma'am," he stammered out, his face burning with embarrassment as he held the rattling bag out to her.

"Thank you dear," she said as she took the bag from. "But please, don't ever call me ma'am again." The boy gulped and nodded vigorously. "Here, something for your time." Leaning down, she kissed the boy on his forehead. The acolyte almost fainted. Turning, the woman moved to a small table. The boy stared at her, captivated by the hypnotic swaying of her hips as she walked across the room.

"Is there something else dear?" the woman asked with a kind smile.

"N . . . n . . . noo," said the boy, shaking himself out of enraptured state. The clumsily left the room, closing the door behind him. The woman chuckled softly to herself. Another time and that acolyte would have left her room a new man. But now times were different. Opening the bag she poured out the runestones.

"Sandpoint," she said to herself. "That will be a bit of a trip. Hmm, perhaps on the professors can help with the travel arrangments." Getting up the woman walked towards a large wardrobe.