Duvik

There were few travelers out after dark in the market quarter this night.  A well dressed young man moved hurriedly down the cobbled stone street.  His head was swinging from left to right and back again as he seemed to be looking for someone or something in the side ways and alleys along Baker's Way.  He carried a fat pouch on his belt and looked very nervous. Marek, who sat huddled beneath the steps leading up to a bakery, had little better to do than to stare at the fellow as he passed by.  It was gonna be a cold night under there and he couldn't force himself to sleep yet.  Marek had spent many a night under the baker's stoop and the pro

Marek sat paralyzed with fear for the full sounding of the bells.  He suddenly recalled the imagined evil he had perceived moments ago when the dandy had seemed to stare right at him.  He thought of his old friend Stubs and wondered if perhaps that foppish looking young man had been involved in the beheading of his friend.  It was hard to imagine such a well dressed and primped fellow performing such a vile act though. "Am I going mad?"  Marek asked himself quietly.  "Perhaps too many nights spent sleeping in the cold and dirt have clouded my mind or stricken me with a sickness of the head."  Marek's voice raised just a bit as he said that a

Marek remained frozen in place with fear. As the bells slowly beat their cadence, he cast his gaze around the crowded tavern once again. “There, the fellow in the dull brown tunic… is he staring at me?” Marek tried rubbing the fog from his eyes in an effort to try and see the man more clearly. When he looked again, the stranger was gone. Marek whipped his head suddenly towards the door to the tavern as it burst open violently and without warning. A man’s shape appeared silhouetted against its frame and, as he stepped into the the Fallen Stag, there followed a furious gust of wind that caused the torches and candles lightin