The hallway of Lord Tavorick's estate was enormous, even more than his extensive, elaborate garden, which had been impressive even with the flowers all gone, leant a fiery elegance by the leaves' of the trees, turning to shades of ochre and red gold as autumn came. The two guards at the portico ahead were dour and all but silent, grunting when Isaviel and her companions arrived, gesturing them in through the massive front doors. Beyond lay a hallway of polished marble, gilded marble, carved marble, embroidered draperies and draped tapestries, all of it shining brightly with opulence. A pair of red-carpeted stairways reflected each other's curve at the far end of the room, arcing together into a balcony with a balustrade of polished Duskwood. All of the doors in the room had been barricaded with plentiful benches and heavy bookcases, except for the door beyond the balcony.

A number of armoured men, wearing badges of the Watch, had been stationed at points around the room, a pair at attention by the single unblocked door. Casavir and Khelgar immediately began to discuss the orders Captain Ballard had given with the guards closest to them, and Neeshka was making a circuit of the room, rather unsubtly sizing up the wealth on view. Elanee had gone to scout out the vast gardens, and Grobnar lingered at the door, gawping at the opulence.

Under the shadow of the balcony stood an aged man in a belted, quilted black robe adorned with silver leaves, a beautiful young woman holding his arm. A tall, bearded man was engaged in heated discussion with him – he wore a badge of the City Watch with the red cloak of a captain, holding his plumed helmet under his arm. They looked round only fleetingly to acknowledge the large group filing inside, and Isaviel approached with curious incredulity as she caught the gist of the conversation, a number of her friends following.

"I am sorry milord," Captain Ballard was saying as Isaviel reached the trio, a rather bemused expression on his face, "But the girl must leave."

"Oh come now!" Lord Tavorick was protesting, clutching at the young woman's hand which held his arm, "Look at her! A pretty girl like that would keep any man alive and well, even a spotty old wart like me. That is what Nasher wants, isn't it? To keep me from dropping dead?"

"Yes, milord, but it cannot be helped. Lord Nasher is concerned with milord's wellbeing regarding the recent deaths of milord's associates."

"Ha! If Nasher really cared about 'millord's well-being' he'd buy me a potion of youth!" Tavorick scoffed; Ballard momentarily floundered.

With his thinning white hair and deeply wrinkled paper-like skin, spotted with age, Tavorick could not have been less than eighty, and his hands shook a little as he gesticulated wildly. His humorous fervour was telling as well, as was his upright posture and alert green eyes; though he was old, he was not as decrepit as he was implying.

"Milord, I…"

"…failing that, he could at least buy me a harem. Eighty-four girls, one for each year of my life," Tavorick suggested with a wink.

"Lecherous bastard," Bishop snorted under his breath, and Isaviel elbowed him.

"Sounds like a kindred spirit for you, really," she suggested with an innocent smile.

"Only if they'd fight me like you do," he growled back, eliciting a gagging sound from Qara who walked on the Moon Elf's other side.

"Alright, alright, I've had my fun," Tavorick laughed at Ballard's scandalised expression, stepping away from the young woman, who smiled at him sweetly when he looked to her, "Melia, my dear, I insist that you come back and play for me again. The night after next, perhaps?"

"My lord is very sweet. I would be honoured," she told him, her voice gentle and musical, smiling to Tavorick again, and then Ballard as well with that flawless look, her lustrous dark ringlets bouncing about her face as she moved.

"Alright then, I've done as you wished," Tavorick sighed to Ballard, sending Melia a wink and a wave as she moved away from them, her long emerald dress sweeping the polished floor as she moved, paying no heed to Isaviel and her group on her way out.

"Thank you, milord…" Ballard began to say, but Tavorick had finally turned his attention towards Isaviel, taking a few steps towards her, leaning a little on his gold-topped cane – though without any visible limp.

"Ah, has Nasher sent more people to guard my old bones?" he asked, looking the Moon Elf up and down and smiling at Qara and Shandra as well, "At least quite a few of you are lovely enough to give me something to look upon throughout the night. I don't suppose any of you play the harp like Melia?"

"I'm afraid not, Lord Tavorick, but we're here to help," Shandra assured him, and he waved the words away.

"Oh, of course you are. Nasher thinks he can keep me from dropping dead by sending an army? Ha!"

"Hardly," Isaviel sneered, "But he does seem to think you're worth saving from that which you carry."

"Ah, that," he glanced shiftily towards Ballard, who rolled his eyes at the over-exaggerated expression, "Well, Nasher ought to send more women to guard me – you're a fair young thing, my lady, even with that glare and all those blades."

Bishop gave a short laugh at that and stalked away, and Isaviel could feel how tense Qara was beside her at the old man's words. It all seemed a little over-acted to the Moon Elf – there was something going on here that she had not been told of, and it made her uneasy.

"Hells," Tavorick was continuing unchecked, "Sack all the men and give me an army of pretty ladies. The Watch would be a great deal more popular then, I assure you. Ladies like Melia, that girl from the Mask. Comes and visits me from time to time – reminds me what it's like to have a lady in the house. Plays the harp like a songbird. I can't rightly hear it, mind you, but she has beautiful hands. My fourth wife had hands like those. You know where it got her? Scorched to a crisp; thought she'd have a go at wizardry."

"He's giving me ideas," Qara murmured in Isaviel's ear and the Moon Elf had to stifle a laugh.

"Milord, we need to get you upstairs," Ballard managed to put some urgency in his voice, suddenly far less timid than before.

"Ah yes, shoo the old dotard away. He smells like boiled cabbage anyway – and don't bother denying it, I know what I smell like," Tavorick grumbled, already turning and heading up the stairs, "I'll be up in my chambers trying not to die of natural causes if anyone thinks to check on me. I think I'll go to bed and dream of pretty girls like you," he paused on the stairs and winked at Isaviel – who had the distinct impression that he was trying to annoy her and therefore just rolled her eyes and turned away.

Shandra hurried to help Tavorick up the stairs but he turned back, calling after Isaviel.

"Pretty Elvish lady, come to think of it there's something I should show you before things threaten to get serious."

When she looked towards him, he gestured for her to follow and after a moment she did so, Shandra by her side. His steps were quick and measured for one who professed to need a cane to walk and he led them through the balcony doors and past the mandatory paintings of ancestors passed. Shortly they reached his lavish chambers and he ushered them inside before swiftly closing the door behind them, moving through the velvet-cushioned chairs and couches, arranged around an ornate fire, and across a fur rug towards the mantelpiece.

"I am afraid I will not be giving the shard to you," he admitted, unexpectedly reaching up over the fire and pulling free the undoubtedly heavy greatsword mounted there with a grunt of effort, allowing its blade to clang against the floorboards, splintering the top layer of the floor a little, "But we might as well split the load between us. You see, no one ever thinks about the hilt; it is not technically a shard of the sword after all."

The old man grinned momentarily, using his long sleeve to protect against the sharp metal edge as he took the blade in one hand and the grip in the other, beginning to pull. With a slight click, the hilt came free and he let the large blade fall to the ground, stepping towards Isaviel and Shandra, holding the hilt out to the Moon Elf.

"This was recovered by my sadly lost friend Dalren at the Battle of West Harbour. Look after it for me why don't you, my dear?"

She took the heavy component of the sword from his grasp with a little trepidation and awe – it was evidently for a two-handed weapon, the leather around its grip worn away to the metal beneath in some places. Its crossbar looked to be made of a metal resembling bronze, arcing unevenly to form a hand-guard, three red jewels following its curve with another, larger gem set at its joining with the grip. As soon as she touched it, the spherical crystal pommel began to glow with soft silver light - the scar over her heart began to ache, as well, and she felt a surge of power spread through her arms.

"Ah. It seems to like you," Tavorick noted with a knowing smile, raising his eyebrows expectantly as if she were supposed to understand some joke.

"That sword…it must have been enormous," Shandra noted in surprise, "There's room for two hands and more on that grip."

"Indeed. Makes me wonder why anyone wants it at all," Tavorick shrugged, looking wholly disinterested now as Isaviel continued to turn the hilt around in her hands, "I think I will try to get some sleep," he sent them a smile as they moved to leave, "Don't worry too much about me."

As night fell Ballard had locked all of the doors in the house except for those leading to Tavorick's room, which were being guarded by Casavir and Khelgar. Elanee had looked particularly unhappy when she stepped inside and approached Isaviel as she sat on the top step of the stairs, Bishop pacing the balcony behind her.

"Isaviel, I must speak with you," the druid stated, sitting beside her, eyes wide with sorrow and fear, "The trees…the plants…even the water. There is something wrong. Not just here, but everywhere…"

"Don't you just mean winter's killing off all your beloved 'nature', druid?" Bishop paused a moment to sneer at her, and she sent him an unhappy glare for that.

"No, please, you must listen to me."

"I am listening," Isaviel sighed, hooking the silver sword's hilt under her belt and leaning her elbows back against the step behind her, "Though I won't be soon."

"I-I'm sorry, I know you don't trust me much…," Elanee paused, shaking her head, then began again, "There is a shadow on the land. It was strongest in the Mere, and I have heard no more word from my elders since I went to contact them at Skymirror many weeks ago. Naevan warned me then, as I told you, that the bad harvest in the Mere and the tainted waters were a sign of the return of the King of Shadows. When we saw no more proof of this; when it did not spread…I dared to hope he was wrong, but now I sense it strongly. Shadows are thick and heavy with the taint of evil…"

"What in all the Hells is that?" Ballard exclaimed loudly as several of his men started and moved away from the doors at which they had been stationed.

Standing quickly, Isaviel saw what had made them jump so – dark, low hanging mist had begun to creep beneath all the doors, pouring most distinctly through the front entrance, and in moments it fouls stench had filled the hall. Bishop cursed behind her when all the torches illuminating the room went out with a communal hiss in their sconces. Several long seconds of darkness passed in which Isaviel could make out the bright red glow of Neeshka's eyes clearly as the Tiefling stalked silently across the room. Eventually Qara summoned flame into her hands with a momentary roar of power, illuminating much of the room from her position just below the balcony.

"Demons. It's demons…and devils," Neeshka told them in a loud whisper from her place somewhere in the outer reaches of darkness. What were they doing working together?

"This is ridiculous," Bishop hissed in Isaviel's ear; she could feel his chest against her back, his breath on her hair as he spoke those angry words, "We should have just killed the old fool, taken the shard, and run." He gave her a little shove as he stepped away again.

"Oh, great, and then we'd have the whole Lords' Alliance after us," the Moon Elf shot back, keeping her eyes on the scene ahead.

There was no more time for words, because a great scraping began against the front doors, which rattled and groaned against their hinges. A rush of power tore through the room, shaking everyone within, as blue flame erupted from all of the torches, bathing the room in ghostly light. Grobnar's eyes looked positively black in that illumination as he blinked nervously about himself at the top of the other flight of stairs, shortbow clutched in both small hands. Bishop had moved to the centre of the balcony, an arrow drawn back tightly in his glowing bow, steady, apparently fearless – but raging. Elanee had reached the main floor, morphing quickly into a bear's form and prowling across the hallway as the guards, along with Shandra, formed up around Captain Ballard, who had positioned himself just in front of Qara. The sorceress had flames leaping around both hands, a wildly hopeful expression on her face. Of all of us, she alone loves this…but only while she's safe behind all those guards.

Isaviel pulled free her own bow, nocking an arrow just in time as the doors shattered, and it seemed for a moment as though all the Abyss and Hells poured forth together. A pair of great black dogs leapt through first, perhaps three times the size that they should have been with short fur so dark it sucked in the blue light to leave a void of blackness in their wake. Snarling, they showed vicious teeth larger than daggers, and their eyes glowed deep crimson. The first tackled Elanee's bear-form; the two great beasts collided with an impressive thud, rolling across the floor rending, roaring, biting. The second Hellhound was momentarily engulfed in a huge blast of flame which arced over the Watch men from Qara.

In the hounds' wake came a pair of Succubi, one blonde, the other with hair the colour of blood, clad in spotless white strips of cloth, flapping huge leathery wings to take them and their horribly sharp talons descending upon Ballard and his men. With them came some five more winged creatures, these much smaller, far less human in appearance, perhaps the size of squirrels but more resembling bats, with long, spiked tails, small horns and crazed eyes; these were Imps. Tiny swords and spears were in their hands, blades visibly dripping poison.

Having learned their lesson when first they met the Succubi at Mephasm's prison, Isaviel and Bishop knew to aim for the demons' wings, and soon several had been forced to land, wings torn and bloodied, hissing and snarling as they grappled with Ballard and his men. Shandra had managed to cut one of the Imps from the air, and it lay dead at her feet, but its companion had seen what she was capable of and was repeatedly swooping down upon her head from behind, always one step ahead of her when she tried to turn to meet its attacks. A carefully placed arrow from Isaviel soon ended that problem, and Shandra paused a moment to salute her for it.

Qara had managed to detain the second Hellhound with her spells, and with the help of Grobnar's arrows Elanee had the first of the pair pinned to the ground by its throat, still snarling and thrashing even at the last. Most of the Imps had been felled as well, Bishop was just lining up an arrow with the last one, now listing badly before crashing against the balustrade at his (somewhat lacking) mercy. The Succubi had been surrounded by Ballard and his men, lashing out angrily but to no avail. Isaviel had at last found a clear shot towards the last Hellhound, her arrow swooping down and ending its life swiftly.

Only then, when it seemed as though the defenders had the upper hand, did reinforcements come, snarling and shrieking cruel laughter, five more Succubi to join their kin, a dozen more Imps crashing through the windows and pouring through the doors after them. And after them came another wave of that horrific stench, rotten…evil. It took all of Isaviel's control not to double over, gagging, as the foul smog thickened in the room, clinging to the ground and curling against the stairs. The city outside was silent as a grave but for the rumble growing beyond the doors, a deep, grinding sound. Something far worse was on its way.

With more of the Watch men distracted, forced out of their tight formation by the increased numbers of enemies, Neeshka, Shandra and Elanee were caught in the thick of the fight. It was then that a terrified shriek tore through the sounds of battle, coming from Tavorick's room. Cursing, Isaviel span around and began to scramble up the stairs, already close to the top but something took a hold of the bow slung on her arm and wrenched with strength far beyond hers. She heard Bishop shout to her and the brush of a leathery wing as the Succubus who had caught her pushed back off the steps. The demon sent the Moon Elf tumbling back, cackling at the sight of her fall.

Years of monk training saved Isaviel from a more brutal tumble, rolling to absorb the impact though the steps beneath her dug into her spine with every jolt. Eventually she was able to catch one of the banister supports and stop her fall down the stairs. Pushing the remains of her bow from her shoulder, she began to stand and turn, unsheathing her kukris as she moved, hearing the whizz of Bishop's arrows as they sought the Succubus behind her. Lashing out as she turned, Isaviel caught the arm of the demon as she dropped, crying out as her wings were torn by arrows, her wound hissing from the magic the kukris held. When the Moon Elf tried to turn and face her fully, however, the demon dodged, using Isaviel's lasting disorientation to her advantage and catching her by the hair, tearing some out as she yanked, catching her throat with a free hand, talons digging into skin. Blood began to trickle down Isaviel's throat and she could not draw breath, wheezing with little success as the Succubus's grip tightened.

A glance up at the balcony showed Bishop struggling to aim properly and Tavorick being dragged through the doors there by Khelgar, Casavir fighting with something as yet unseen in the corridor beyond. At last the Moon Elf found an opportunity and swung her kukri around, cleanly severing the Succubus's arm and sending the demon retreating backwards, shrieking. Spinning around to gain momentum, she easily ended that one's life, turning to run back up the stairs and ensure Tavorick was led to safety. Bishop and Grobnar were not struggling to keep the Imps as bay, Qara and Neeshka aiding on that score, though the same could not be said for everyone.

"Isaviel!" Shandra cried.

Looking around the Moon Elf saw that the Watch men were in serious trouble; two were slumped on the opposite steps and the three Succubi still living had hold of Ballard; by the neck, the leg and the arm. Wild fear showed in his eyes, even as Shandra reached him, making short work of one Succubus…only for the other two to tear him apart with a blood-curdling scream. Cursing again when Shandra screamed as well at the sight, backing up with sweat on her brow and her shortsword clutched in both shaking hands, Isaviel vaulted the banister. She came to land just in front of Qara, who was also staring at the horrific scene with the remaining Watch men cowering behind her as she conjured a protective wall of flame, cutting her off from Isaviel. Shielding her face from the sudden wash of heat and swearing heartily at the sorcerer, the Moon Elf turned towards the Succubi, who were no longer dodging Bishop's arrows. They looked angry and pained with their wings drooping and tattered, but their talons dripped blood and gore as they advance on Shandra at a leisurely pace.

Unsheathing her weapons again, the Moon Elf reached Shandra's side and the woman looked over to her with teary eyes, but paused when she saw her determination, taking a deep breath to try to steady herself. This was far from over, and she had to accept that. Grobnar and Elanee were trying to tend the two wounded men on the steps, and those on the balcony seemed to be hard-pressed as well. Isaviel did not need to look around to recognise the ring of Bishop's longsword as he unsheathed it.

"Be calm, Shandra," Isaviel hissed to her friend, a little taken aback by her own sympathy, "You must not show them." That you are afraid.

Shandra did not answer, but out of the corner of her eye Isaviel saw the woman's posture straighten, her hand gripping tightly to her shortsword to stop her shaking as the Succubi stalked around them, grinning wickedly. When the first lunge came, Isaviel was ready to dodge, ducking under the blow, cutting across with her kukri, spinning away…and satisfied to see that she had drawn blood.

"Stop cowering behind the girl's skirts you fools!" she shouted behind herself, towards the men, "If they kill me, I pray to the Lone Wolf that they kill you next."

To emphasise her point, she swung hard at the Succubus's next attack, drawing blood and eliciting a shriek, stepping into the opportunity she had forged, using her rage to propel her on, ducking again, dodging, spinning…and severing her foe's head. Shandra had managed to hold her own against the other Succubus, but it was Neeshka who crept up behind that demon and slew it.

Qara's wall of flame waned and sputtered out, revealing the fearful, quivering men beyond. At last Khelgar was helping Tavorick down the stairs, and though the old man surveyed the scene of dead demons quite closely, he did not look remotely perturbed. Casavir, following in their wake, was limping slightly, blood visible at the left knee joint of his armour. Eventually Bishop followed, his lip split, his longsword bloodied to the hilt. Isaviel rounded on the men who had not fought while the others came to join them, as the great rumbling grew, shaking her through to her bones.

"Your captain may be dead, but we cannot stop now and wait for his killers to come to us," she could have raged at them, and by the Hells she wanted to, but instead she kept her voice as steady as she could, and they listened mutely, "I am now your ranking officer. Whether or not you want it, you must answer to me now. And I say we have to get Lord Tavorick to safety – now form up around them," she pointed towards Khelgar and Lord Tavorick, "And let's get out of here!"

For a moment she thought they might not do as she commanded, but after glancing to each other, and at the very different manner of Isaviel's companions, they moved as one to form a semi-circle around Tavorick, swords aimed in ready stances towards the opened doors. The foul smog was worse than ever, rising up to fill the doorway, encroaching on the whole room.

"I don't ever want t' find out what's causin' that stench," Khelgar grunted, gesturing back at the door, gaining several agreeing nods from those around him.

"There are other ways out," Tavorick agreed, "Through the cellars – that way."

As he pointed towards the door just beneath the right set of stairs a great crash resounded against the front wall, shaking the whole room. Everyone scrambled to have a hand in moving the various items blocking the door, until Qara pointed out that whatever was trying to break down the wall probably would not be stopped by a pile of wood, and blew the whole thing up with a spell. A moment or two later and the company waded through the mess of splinters, coughing in the dust it had raised, and down a plain stone slope – unsettling easily wide enough for a large monster to pursue them, thanks to the opulence of the building – and through another set of doors.

The group rushed through the wine cellar – an impressively extensive collection – taking torches from sconces as they went, lit by Qara's spells. Casavir was limping badly by now, leaning heavily on Shandra to keep pace with the others, and Isaviel found herself responsible for Lord Tavorick. She had sent Khelgar ahead with two of the Watch men who were not helping their injured companions to make sure there were no more doors to break down. During it all, even as they rounded the corner to another large room, this one the pantry, the rumbling lasted behind them, though it never grew any louder…

"There are two ways out," Tavorick was telling her as they all filed into the pantry, attempting to barricade the door with barrels of ale and cheese, "That way, to the left, up the stairs, is the servants' exit. It will let you out onto the backstreet, and those doors ahead of us…they lead down to my ancestral tomb and out into the gardens."

There was a strange gravity in his voice, and when Isaviel looked ahead, when she smelled that wretched stench once more and saw the fog curling beneath the double doors ahead, she understood. Whether Tavorick had expected it or not, they had been duped into an ambush. The only way out was up the skeletal stairs, much closer to the doors from which emanated the smog. They would not have time to move aside everything with which they had barricaded the door back to the wine cellar. Then realisation really hit her.

"You don't have the shard, do you?" Isaviel hissed, rounding on Tavorick, rage filling her when she saw his self-satisfied expression, "Nasher set up this whole precarious plan as a distraction."

"Yes, but I did have the hilt," Tavorick did not seem afraid, just shrugging, glancing mildly towards the doors ahead, "I could never have guessed our foe would anticipate our escape like this."

"Barricade those doors! We need to buy ourselves time to get out of here. Whatever's after us…it will be here soon!" Isaviel cried.

Utterly dismissing the aged lord by her side, she rushed to help the others. Casavir's face looked ashen, and he was leaning, panting hard, against the newel post of the stairs leading up to the servants' exit. Seeing him and catching his eye, Isaviel gestured impatiently towards Tavorick and the other injured men, then towards the way out.

"Get him out of here!" she exclaimed, not sure who she was talking to, "Neither of you will do us any good here. Elanee, go with them."

Just as they barred the door something shook the wood, sending splinters flying and those at the door stumbling back. Neeshka and Qara scrambled for the stairs, pushing past Casavir, Tavorick and Elanee and flinging wide the door to the night-time city, fleeing the scene. Another crash came against the doors, and this time the gap it caused allowed a massive clawed hand to rend a great chunk of wood, screeching on the reinforcing iron bars…and snapping them, too.

"Run!" Isaviel cried, and the Watch men all hurtled up the stairs, dragging their injured companions with them, vanishing onto the street outside.

Only as the Moon Elf moved to follow Bishop did she see the fallen form of Grobnar, buried under a collapsed set of shelving. Shandra and Khelgar were helping the struggling Gnome, but the doors were splintering, and something vast showed its silhouette in the flickering of the abandoned torches. When Isaviel paused, Bishop dragged her with him by her arm.

"No! The others are still down there! They can't just fight it by themsel…" she started to protest angrily, but the ranger just glared at her, lifting her by the waist and bodily carrying her up the steps, and though she struggled his grip was like iron.

"I won't let you die for fools like those," the ranger snarled as she fought him, struggling on the last few steps as she wriggled and kicked and hit.

"Since when did you care about what I do with my life?" Isaviel hissed furiously, hearing the door break apart behind them, twisting in his grasp and biting down on his shoulder until he threw her back reflexively…just as he stepped onto the street, and the monster behind her tore the wooden stairs out from under her.