There will be those who will not go.

[thalion]

Thyst speaks in hushed tones to the Harbor Master, "Yes it is a sad state of affairs but should this be true it may be safer for all concerned to abide by the agreement." Waiting for a moment he continues, "Unfortunate as it may be what greater tolls might be paid to all sides otherwise? There will be...". Quickly moving across the room Thyst closes the open door, "There will be those who will not go."

[Kerrn_Siff]

o.0

[Tat2Freak]

wicked, this way comes...

[mudfud]

He who smelt it, dealt it.


P.S. Don't eat yellow snow.

[ShaeNightbird]

The petite Drow woman pulled her cloak more tightly around her, as the cold, fierce wind whipped her long white hair into her face. Quickly, silently, she stole through the shadowed streets of Stormreach. It seemed as if no one had followed her. Reaching the safety of the Phoenix tavern, she pushed open the heavy wooden door, and spotted another Drow elf; a man, very well dressed, and obviously a Bard. He was sitting at the bar sipping a strange looking, poison green drink. Seeing her come in, he nodded his head towards the empty barstool next to him, indicating that she sit down. There were practically no customers in the Phoenix, a condition that greatly eased the troubled mind of the Drow woman. Hurrying over to the seat, she removed her sodden cloak, handing it to the barkeep to put near the fire to dry. Her white mage's robes gleamed in the firelight. The Drow man leaned over to her, and whispered, "Did anyone see you?" The woman's lavender skin paled. "No". she said. "At least, I don't think so." "Good." said the man, quietly. "You do know what will happen if House Cannith realises what you are up to?" His eyebrows raised quizzically. "Yes." She replied,a defiant look flaring in her ruby coloured eyes. "And to be honest, I don't care."

[arikka_hador]

On the second floor of the Phoenix, where the balcony overlooks the legal Brawl and Games arena, a young elf man giggled insanely to himself as he dug his fingers into the cracks between floor stones to avoid falling into the ceiling. His bright green eyes flashed this way and that; sweat matted his mousy-brown hair to his forehead and cheeks. He drew fast, ragged breaths as he listened to the wind howling in the rafters.

Finally, the vertigo gave way to heavy warmth, and he rolled onto his stomach. He exhaled loudly.

Climbing to his knees, he said to himself in a low, raspy voice: "I wonder if anyone wants to... play... tonight...."