[b]Bronze Lantern Inn, That Night[/b] [quote]Rudolf turned to see the pink haired girl looking rather impatient, her eyes looking from Rudolf to Velim beside him and then back. Rudolf looked to his friend and grinned, nudging Velim slightly in the side. "Looks like this young lady has some business with me, how about we catch up tomorrow morning old friend? I'll give you some more information on the journey planned out from here. Perhaps I'll also be able to introduce some of the other members to you!"[/quote] "How thrilling," Velim said flatly, and excused himself without a glance at the woman who had approached Rudolf. He swept his cloak around his shoulders and, relighting his pipe, left the Inn and plunged into the darkened streets of Cromerth. He walked slowly, arms clasped behind his back, pipe smoke wreathing his shorn head like a ghostly halo. He took turns at random, paying no attention to the city around him, green eyes downcast and thoughtful. [i]The Signs are too many and rule out coincidence or an imposter...[/i] So Uthos had said in his most recent note. And then that strange story from Rudolf, about goblins and heart-seeds. Velim had left his distant hearth over a year ago in search of a rare book in the ruins of Al Pharon. In the course of his wanderings across Pandria coincidences had mounted that he could not help but notice. The bizarre suicide of the High Pontifex in Alarec. The Orc shaman, Gul-something-or-other, stirring up the tribes. Uthos' star-configurations. The rebuilding of the Flesh Temple in the Undercity of Daz. The wider world was changing, fraying at the edges...darkening. [i]He[/i], or something very like Him, stirred once more. If the various kingdoms and authorities that governed Pandria were still blind to it, it was only because they had closed their eyes to the realities of magic for too long. Velim huffed. The whole situation was highly inconvenient, not to say disruptive! Likely he would be unable to hide from the coming storm- at least, not in his library. He could even be forced to [i]choose sides[/i]- a tedious (and dangerous) proposition. He detested politics. Perhaps he could find a liveable cave in the Atlas mountains- move his books there and wait out the crisis? Perhaps the uttermost North... He was distracted from his musings by the sound of a window shattering somewhere nearby, followed by shouting in Syndaraen. A cluster of roughnecks spilled out onto the street from a gambling den, most coughing and wiping tears from bleary eyes. "You! Baldy!" one shouted in Common, as the rest fanned out, apparently looking for someone down side streets and alleys. "You seen an elf slut and her boyfriend run by here?" "Mmmm... no," replied Velim, shoving by the thug without a second glance. "Hey! You look at me when I'm talking to you!" said the Syndaraen, grabbing Velim by the shoulder. For a moment he overbalanced as his hand cut through empty air, then he straightened up, blinking in confusion. "Where'd he go?" spluttered the man next to him, shaking his head "I-I blinked and he was gone..." --- Two streets over, Velim stepped out from the shadows of an alley, straightening his cloak and relighting his pipe. Fucking [i]towns,[/i] he thought, you can't even go for a walk without getting drawn into some idiot's ridiculous spats. He drew on his pipe and stroked his beard thoughtfully, standing still in the middle of the empty road as his cool mind turned from the idiot ruffians to his real problem. Uthos, in his note, had suggested contacting [i]Them[/i] for more information on what was behind the Signs. Dangerous as the prospect was, Velim conceded that it was the wisest course. He set off for Cromerth's empty coliseum. [i]They[/i] were most easily summoned in places of violence...It was, after all, where they fed. --- [b]That Morning, the Bronze Lantern Inn[/b] Athalus Velim sat in a corner booth, dark cloak clutched tightly around him, mug of ale in hand. His fifteenth in a row, as a matter of fact. His normally tanned and weathered skin was pale and clammy, his eyes bloodshot, his goatee greyer than the night before. A serving girl came up and asked him if he wanted food. He slurred something that sounded mildly like "eggs" and shooed her away before slurping down more beer. He had survived....but the conversation in the coliseum had not gone as planned.