Something caused him to stop in his day-to-day routine. Standing near his desk in the nice office he had inherited from Miranda up in Mage House, Arthour blinked, brows furrowing slightly. Something was.....He shook his head, trying to clear his vision to no avail. "Dafuq...?"

Arthour's vision swam, everything came and went out of focus suddenly and without warning. Distorted images moved across his vision, the taint with it, that vile power that coated the entire vision made him nauseous. The marketplace.." WestEnd" He...He knew this place. Where ever it was, it was...Familiar, it struck a cord with his memory, but..Where" What was this, why was he seeing this, feeling this"



Already, it began...Shifting to a new view.."

The girls...Were they.." He knew them, didn't he" What was this darkness that clung at them so.." One was so scared, so frightened and the other...Why was there...Why didn't..Why wasn't anyone helping them"!

But gone before he could pursue that thought further, replaced with...Eyes. Gold eyes, fangs, before it too was gone. The Mage stumbled nearly blindly, for his desk, looking for somewhere to sit before he tripped and nearly fell.

Everything shifted...The man, in the alley....Attacked" That face...He knew that man! What was that they.."

Gone again, too fast, too soon! How was he too make sense of this"! A woman, red haired, with child....No...No, he knew that face, this one he knew...Jenai"

One more, it changed, the image before" Gone, replaced with red. He watched the claws grip the feather, for an instant he stumbled again, grabbing the edge of his desk. Runes...Voices, hammering on metal" What was that.." Why was

Anger. Rage. It hammered at him, the vision shattered, smashed under the onslaught and Arthour fell, collapsing to his knees. Sweat, cold and clinging, covered his body and he wiped at his forehead, blinking, gasping for air as the vision carried on heedless of his condition.



He shook. His body was like a leaf as the vision began it's penultimate show, the symbol...It didn't take a genius or a four thousand year old demi-god to recognise the symbol of Bhaal!...Was that what this was.." A vision from the God of murder...." A warning, a message, or simple the universe screaming out at what ever mind was near enough to hear and see what it had to offer.."

The bodies....So much death....Failure to protect, defend against this vile monstrosity weighed the Fire Mage down, his hand slipped across the desk as he tried to regain his footing, knocking objects across the desk, Arthour fell to his knees again, shaking his head....



The growing power! The dead! These must be, surely, connected together" The symbol of Bhaal, the dead, stacked, it came to it's own conclusion, but....

The black feather....The claws...Bhaal...Why were these things connected" The feather surely symbolised the Ravenlocks, if Jenai....The man in the alley...Brian' The children" Their children.." But if so..what were the claws, that crushed the feather with such anger" Those eyes...Fangs. What did it all mean"!

He shook his head again...There was knocking...Another vision.." No..Hands, he started, reaching for a sword he didn't wear in his office, before pausing. His office. The scattered items on the desk, someone heard and entered. Hands helped him to his feet and voices, more than one person had come in, spoke, trying to find out what had happened...He waved them off. "I...I'm...I'm fine...I said I'm fine, damn it!" Irritation flared, and he snapped, waving the hands off more vigorously. He needed to think, to remember, what had he seen" He needed to...To what"

Do what? Action was required, but where" How old was this vision, when did the events begin, had they finished, were they a glimpse of what was to come" All of the above, and more" A warning, a message, or simple the universe screaming out...?



He had no idea what he was going to do.

He had no idea what was happening.

He knew not what had happened.

But one thing was obvious. Somewhere, someone needed help.

A child clutching at her dying sister, a man lying broken in an alleyway, a mother to be waiting expectantly for family that might never show....

He didn't know what to- No. He knew what to do.

What he always did.

Somewhere out there, someone needed help. Several someones.

He shook his head again, the answer obvious to him, maybe even to who or whatever had throw the vision at him. He moved from the people that had flooded his office at the sound of the strew items. Arthour moved to the coat stand in the corner of the room, just behind his chair and pulled down his sword belt, reattaching it to his waist. His black cloak followed soon after and without another word, he walked for the door.