She took a step, and a myriad tangled colors of greens and blues appeared beneath her foot where the dusty road had been a moment before.  Niaris squealed in delight as she looked up and around her to find knotted aged tree trunks and a shifting, whispering canopy of gnarled branches and leaves far above her head  Only the barest of sunlight filtering through to the ground, the small shafts of light illuminating wispy seed pods and feathery insects floating upon the damp primordial air.  “Lia!  Oh, Lia!  We’re home!”

The guild halls were silent and empty, walls of stone and wood damp with midnight chill that carried a subtle scent. Faulki rumbled pleasantly against his companion’s leg as they paused to take in a strange odor by a fireplace. They didn’t often stay within the guild’s walls, preferring to part ways after battle, Faulki for the hills in search of game or a female, and Pharrael to the inn or pub. Usually the pub. The night was alive, calling out even the wine soaked Chracian. Faulki pressed upon him an urgency without a nameable source, leading them from room to room, hall to hall, in search of something. What, Pharrael couldn’t fathom, but the lion’s edginess was sinking into his muscles.

“Will you be staying here again tonight?” the harried worker at the Reikland Arms inquired of the blonde elf who was humming an incomprehensible melody while counting out her coins.

The elf paused for a moment, looked at the young lion at her feet, and then shook her head.  “Oh no.  Lia says that it’s not good to stay in one place more than a night.  There are all kinds of bad energies that people have left in places, and if you stay long enough they’ll seep into you.”

The innkeeper nodded slowly.  “Aye, if you say so…”

Mannslieb’s argent light was brilliant and clear tonight, Giacinta observed as she gripped the siderail of the Onslaught.  The elven warship was all that she could book passage on at such late notice, and she was thankful that this voyage to its home port in Lothern had not met with anything untoward.

Masanair walked across the courtyard of the academy with a smile on his face.  He had just metted out a lesson on three of his guards due to them inadequately doing something when asked to.  This was House Tervisla and you never did anything half assed.  Never!  You paid a price if you did and he well knew it.  How many times had the matron, his mother, made sure he knew this?  More times than he could count assuredly, but he was sure he suffered more than others for one reason, he was her son and the only child she had managed to concieve and that in her middle years.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”  Hariette was once again in the temple garden, kneeling before her friend Leopold as he pruned some bright magenta peonies.

As usual, the priest of Myrmidia was unruffled, understanding more than most the reason for the young woman’s dramatics.  “Of course I bless you, my girl.  Now stand up and look me in the eye.  Confess as a brave knight should.”

Her shoulders shuddering, she could only faintly shake her head as her tears dropped before her on the small white pebbles of the walkway.

 Sieglinde turned to the next page of the journal carefully, trying not to tear the brittle pages. The book was old, older than most elves still alive. At first it had seemed to be nothing more then a madman's collection of erotic poetry, but as she read further a story began to develop. It was a classic druchii tale of treachery, a sorcerer who had seduced a House matron, becoming her consort. He then managed to seduce the two sisters who stood to inherit their mother's position and turn them against each other. It was a fascinating tale that seemed ridiculous when looked at afar with the benefit of a large span of history. Still, when love is involved, even the easiest of deceptions to discern can become much harder to spot.

She found him in the temple garden, as usual, and waved excitedly, a huge grin on her face.

Leopold saw her, and waved in return with a small bunch of pink briar roses in his hand.

Grinning even more brightly, Hariette made her way over to meet him.  “Good day, Father, how are you?”  She giggled when he presented her with the small bouquet.

 Shargra Glutmire wrinkled his nose as the door to his laboratory opened. A brief rush of air entered the chamber and this did not please him in the least. The experiment he was working on required just the right temperature, and since that had now changed the entire contents of the cauldron would have to be destroyed. He could already see the vile green stew shifting color as the temperature dropped slightly. Shargra would have been angry if he had the ability to feel anything, instead he just waited to see the cause behind the disturbance.