[Faust D'Rinishad]

Month of Cryxatum in the Season of Summer, Era XIV

The Golden Dragon Tavern and Inn. Although renowned for harboring fugitives and disreputable personnel, it was situated on neutral territory –or so both of them believed. Square and round tables decorated the wooden floor, and the windows were no longer shielded by drapes to ward the building’s inhabitants from the winter chill. On this evening single candles sat atop every table, illuminating the surrounding area just enough so that the entire room was aglow. It was homely by all standards, that is, if one did not mind the grime or the ripened wood, and it was befitting of the peculiar encounter about to transpire this night.

An encounter of arguably two likeminded individuals…

The Prince of Har’oloth, as he was oftentimes referred to, sat in the corner of the tavern, ebony cowl resting against his backside to reveal a glimmering mane of silver hair. His eyes were crimson as was customary for most of his kindred, and they drifted lazily about from side to side, casually taking note of the random assortment of patrons that the Golden Dragon had riveted this evening. The dark elf’s posture was one of comfort, though there was no mistaking the warrior’s grace that guided his hands as they folded across his chest, conveniently positioning his elbows atop the bejeweled sword pommels on each of his sides.

He would be arriving shortly.

The visage of a dwarf surfaced to the dark elf’s thoughts, though the latter labored to remember the former’s name. In truth it hardly mattered, however, because the dwarf had been nothing more than a marionette whose strings were controlled by the man whom the Vysstichi was about to meet. Dimitri Wladisyaw, yes, that was his name, one that warranted mention even in the bowels of Har’oloth. For a human to have risen to such unheard of prestige in the tradition-dominated underworld was an extraordinary feat indeed. And however Dimitri had accomplished that miracle, the Vysstichi Lord did not know, but he would find out.

And so the Weapons Master of House Kitrye’veresi, First House of Har’oloth, waited, patiently contemplating the type of human that had accomplished enough to merit his attention. He was of an impartial opinion thus far, but he had no doubts that this would change by the end of the meeting. For better or worse, though, only the Gods knew.