The Evening of the 28th - Sunsday - The Streets of Alistair's Stand

It was another wet evening. They had all been particularly wet for the past few days. Margo was commenting on that fact, loudly.

"...since the eclipse. I tell you, it were a bad sign, no mistake. First talk of drowners in the Run, then part of the Sun goes missing in the middle of the day, then the waters come down in such loads that the Run starts swelling. Dark magic, I tell you."

Magus Vreia shook her head, though she said nothing. She had tried many times to explain natural phenomena to the surly dwarf. It seemed old Margo had decided long ago that the world was simply controlled by evil forces, forces which aimed chiefly at her own inconvenience.

The others gathered in the tap room were less skeptical than the Mage; a chorus of "ayes" and "Tha's rights" rebounded around while Margo nodded to emphasize her own point. "Aye indeed. And it 'ain't just the ol' river that's a problem. No'sirs. I've heard new stories from Deepgate..."

She paused, dramatically taking another deep swig from her mug. The crowd about her held their peace - she was well known as the sagest of the regulars at the Widemouth, an old bar near the Run-Within-the-Walls, as the northernmost district was called.

Vreia took the opportunity to slip outside, into the dark, the wind, and the rain. Her cloak was pulled tightly about her, but she left her hood down. She liked the feeling of the warm summer rain in her hair, even if the wind made it bite a bit. There was no one about, though from the size of the puddles she had to leap across, she was not surprised. It was late, and the wettest day of the season, so far and like to be the wettest of those to come.

By the time she had gotten back to the Cathedral district, it was near midnight. Even her eyes, adept in the moonlight, were no good in the utter black of the rainfilled streets. With a whisper and flick of fingers, several globes of light appeared about her, and began to drift up and down, a short distance from her. The light they provided cut through the falling rain, though perhaps not as much as she would have liked.

With the dancing lights to guide her, the mage made better time. Her tower rose up before her like a spike in the darkness, its white walls as white as bone. As she stepped to enter, the wind grew fierce for a moment. She paused, and held her breath. There it was again. A whisper on the wind.

"Vreia...you...failed her..."

She turned and, with a quick wave of her hand brightened the globes. "Who is there?! Show yourself!" She shouted into the rain, her eyes straining into the darkness.

All was silent, save the crashing of the wind against her. She took a step forward, into the darkness, then thinking better, turned again. The last thing she saw was the leering face standing above her on the steps, the white eyes, the wide smile.

"Captain Raido, sir!"

"Yes, what is it, Corporal?"

"Sir, there's been an accident. Magus Vreia was found dead on the steps of her tower, sir. Her neck was broken. Must have slipped during the night, and fallen from the top of the steps."

"I see...damn. How does a mage just fall like that? Aren't they supposed to be protected from things like that?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I don't take up much with magic, sir."

"Well, file a report and see that it gets to the Master Warden. He'll want to know about this."

"Yes sir!"