Few who walked the streets of this wealthy part of the city could have guessed that below their feet a fell and eldritch ritual was talking place. The catacombs and passages that led to the secret ritual chamber were as old as the first settlers...a few even much older... though only a few of the elite knew they existed. The voices of the seven robed and masked men that met there this night echoed eerily through the stone passageways as they intoned their dark enchantment.

Kattum ili-ia eli uttu-ru ilani salalu

Ipshetusha malla-a iqbu-u qi-ishrusha

Ina qibit iqbu-u ilani iprusu taru

Amat amat amatusha kal akati-ra!

As they chanted, six of them made a complex series of mystical hand signs, while the seventh, wearing a ram-like mask that fully covered his head, held an ornate jeweled dagger under the throat of a young woman. He held up her head with a fistful of her dark blonde hair gripped tightly in his other hand. She appeared to be in some kind of trance, for she did not struggle. No doubt, she was some strumpet taken from the docks; no one would miss her...at least no one that mattered.

As the chanting reached its seventh iteration, the man in the ram drew the knife across the hapless girl's throat, ending her life and completing the ritual. As her blood flowed from her twitching body, it was absorbed into the arcane sigils and patterns carved into the stone floor.

"There...let's see that bastard try to scry on us now!" laughed the man in a frog mask. "Thinks he's so much better than us! I always hated the smug son of a bitch!"

"Unfortunately, Balthus, just blocking his eyes does little to neutralize him as a threat," said the ram mask, tersely. "Van der Linde is both a powerful magus, and a cold-blooded murderer. Do you have any idea how many men...dangerous men...he's killed with just his two hands alone?"

"Of course, Nephilos, of course...and thank you for allowing me to attend tonight, sir! It's quite an honor!" Balthus, the frog mask, replied. All of the men here used magical pseudonyms with each other, especially when performing any craft.

"We needed a seventh," Nephilus spat.

Turning, Nephilus regarded another of his companions; a rooster masked, stocky man who couldn't stop looking at the body of the girl. "Paracelsus, you never seem to get use to this part of the work. We are in some serious shit here...it could mean the end of the world if we keep screwing up! I need to know your going to be reliable in the coming ordeal...I need to know you're ALL going to be reliable!"

"I...I'm fine, I'm...fine. Please, I know what needs to be done. We all do, I assure you," Paracelsus stammered.

Nephilos grunted, then turned and led the others to a wood-paneled, richly appointed chamber just down from the ritual room. A heavy mahogany table took up the center of the room, and seven large, leather chairs were spaced evenly around it. Several large, tiffany chandeliers warmly lit the room. Nephilos remained standing as the others took their seats.

"Balthus, I need you to go to New Austin. Take your man, Fordham, with you, and a few of the boys. I think we've found our cat's paw."

"So, you've decided to enlist the aid of Mr. Marston, after all?" drawled a laconic voice from behind a mask of golden oak leaves.

"The Oracle said only the 'Former Forsaken Son' had any chance of stopping him. Don't tell me you haven't cast Marston's horoscope yet, yourself. Need I say, all signs point to Marston being our last, best hope."

"How do you plan on convincing him?" Paracelsus inquired, "do you even know where he is?"

"Oh, yes...not far from your old stomping grounds, my dear Paracelsus. Seems he's been living the quiet life out on Great Plains, a bit west of Black Water. As for convincing, well...he made the unfortunate decision to have himself a little family. I think, once they are in our custody, Mr. Marston will be more than happy to come see us. Then, we'll see what other insurance we can come up with.

"That brings me back to you, Balthus. Our men in Black Water will meet you at the boat and escort you to the Marston ranch. Wait until he has left the premises, then go get his wife and boy. Don't hurt them...yet...just subdue them and send them here for safe keeping. Then, corner our 'Forsaken Son' and try your best to make him see reason. This is an important mission, Balthus...screw it up and I promise you a rapid and most spectacular death."

Balthus gulped and got to his feet. "No need to worry, sir. Marston is as good as here." He quickly left the room and disappeared down the torch-lined corridor.

"I'm sure he can manage," Saraphel, the oak mask, said to no one in particular. It was difficult to tell if he was serious or sarcastic, but then it always was. Nephilos just grunted once more.

"Speaking of the Oracle," Saraphel continued, turning to face Nephilos as the rest of the magi filed out of the room, "how is the lovely Mrs. Johns?"

"Drugged out of her mind and locked in a closet, like any good wife should be." Nephilos said, grinning behind his mask and clapping his hand on his associates shoulder.