For want of a better name...

 

 So Sayth Halfelven Dragon:

*ahem* before it begins, a few disclaimers:

1. a) this is not only my first attempt at a plot thread, b) it is also a return to fantasy writing in general after a fairly long hiatus. so please, be gentle :)

2. because of the aforementioned hiatus (see disclaimer 1b), i do not have very may specific ideas about this world. i will say it was something that presented itself to my brain as being more interesting than italian indirect pronouns at the time of its conception, which may account for my vagueness. i will also say that, therefore, it is not an ultima related world, nor any other specific world in the sf/f genre.

if you are still interested, by all means, please read onwards.

This thread was started by Halfelven Dragon on the 18th of July 2000, and has been continued by Boa, Wtcher, and Paulon. The most recent post was on the 11th of August.

 

The door to the tavern swings open, and a crowd of rowdies poured in. On their heels came a small person, clad in dark clothing, wholly unremarkable except for the wizard's wand hanging at her hip in place of a sword.

After taking a moment to scan the crowd, she deftly navigated her way to a small, as yet unclaimed table near the fireplace which coincidentally afforded her a view of all available exits. Signaling the barmaid without undue haste, she placed her order. The reptilian employee plunked down a mug of the usual beer on the table, giving a measuring glance at the client. While humans are by no means uncommon in a port city of the Saurian Empire, it seems that magic wielders are, here.

The wizard, apparently unconcerned, gives her attention to her beer, but her eyes occasionally scan the crowd and even more often linger on the door. If she's not waiting for someone, the barmaid's a human.

 

Suddenly, an unnatural chill fills the room. The door swings open. For a moment, all is quiet. A dark mist starts floating into the room through the door... the sounds of the night outside can be heard. Someone coughs. No one is talking anymore. The wizard doesn't even have time to defend herself, before a huge, horrible and deathly black creature, covered with scars and and bloodstains, rushes through the room and puts a quick end to the wizard's life. There is blood everywhere. Then the horrible creature suddenly disappears, as well as the black mist. The patrons nods silently to each other, confirming what they saw. Then, panic. A lone figure, a man dressed in a blue robe, starts walking against the door, trying to make his way through the crowd. The other priests must be warned. They have returned.

 

Stepping from out of the shadows off to the side, the wizardess tilts the corners of her mouth in a grim smile. Feeling her way through the carnage, she finds the still-unmolested beer that her puppet had been nursing and drains it. No point in wasting perfectly good drink.

 

Dashing the back of her hand across her mouth, she throws the mug down to join the mess on the floor and moves to an intercept course with the blue-robe. If anyone's going to inform the council, it's going to be the one who did the research.

 

By the way, someone should clean this mess up... as I mentioned before, there's blood and scattered body pieces everywhere. However, she walks out of the tavern, past the hysteric owner, who's trying to control the situation. She opens the door and leaves. Outside, there's cold wind blowing, and with it leaves from the nearby park by the cemetery.

The cemetery. is surrounded by a twelve feet high stone wall covered with moss. She opens the gate and starts walking towards the great tombstone in the middle of the cemetery.

 

Behind the woman the gate swings shut, with a silence at odds with the traditional expectations of such a portal on a windy night. The woman continues towards the gravestone, which seems to shed light from within as she approaches. Thus reassured that the spells laid upon the area detect no observers, magical or otherwise, the woman steps straight into the tombstone as if it is nothing but empty air, and is gone from the ken of normal men.