Deep in the dank sub-levels of the shadowy IronhHelm Flats, evil was in silent repose. Nocent had been reclining in her throne simply staring with intensity at the ominous Red Wall. The throne on which she sat was fashioned from smooth marbled stone......an oddly comfortable creation of impressive magnitude which had been left behind in this once great structure to stand time?s daunting test.

Giminicka, of course, had made her own grisly additions to the chair?s decor......additions naturally befitting the caustic personality of this chosen instrument of Bhaal?s vengeance.

Impudently decorating the chair?s arm rests were the brutally severed heads of a young knight of Torm and his twelve year old brother. The sharpened arm rests had been speared through the napes of their necks......the ends nearly visible from within their open mouths.

The pale faces were sharply contorted; capturing their final few seconds of anguish and horror which they so nobly endured before all went spartanly dim. Their silent, gaping mouths were messily caked with dried blood, while their thickly glazed eyes gawked into the endless void with a sense of calamitous urgency.

As Nocent glared at the Wall.......engrossed in the gruesome spectacle which lingered before it.....a lone cockroach, brown and plump, scurried forth from the mouth of the younger victim. After briefly exploring its new surroundings, the insect quickly descended back into the dark hollows of the young boy?s open maw.

Draped over the back of Nocent?s ornamental chair were crimson-stained strips of unsullied human flesh.......all reverently torn from the torsos of both the knight and his younger sibling. The sickening stench of death and decay hung heavily in the chamber.....though nauseating and stifling, it only served to empower the Fallen Sister with anticipation of her glorious work of art which had yet to be unveiled.

Promises......vows......oaths......agony...death.


Without any warning of its presence, a strong voice languidly sliced through the forbidding darkness and fondled Giminicka?s ears with a certain tantalizing cunning: ?Nocent. You?ve assembled quite a Court, Priestess.?

A slight tightening of Giminicka?s serrated gauntlet was the only movement which betrayed her seemingly detached appearance. The stealthy voice continued on as it boldly addressed the Anti-Scathachian: ?Their efforts on your behalf do honor our Lord Bhaal. I have always found it entertaining to watch souls walk willingly into damnation.?

The malicious warrior slowly rose to her full towering height. Her emerald green eyes searched through the cloying darkness, like those of a hunting serpent, and sharply focused upon this new arrival whose black cloak concealed a suit of deathly armor.

After taking several steps towards the enigmatic figure, Nocent herself spoke in a cruel tongue long since forgotten in the mortal world of men, ?Av?sa-n?ru.........your arrival is early Dark One.?

As the Beast within smiled.......a single tear of blood abruptly ebbed forth from the left eye of each severed head.

"And . . . complacency is a tempting, dangerous weakness. Almost as dangerous as trust. You have probably heard furtive whisperings about a "WestEnd Offensive" against the very real and growing threats of unchecked murder and chaos." With a derisive snort, Av?sa-n?ru glided around the towering Anti-Scathachian and regarded the Red Wall for several minutes. The insubstantial mist of shadows drifted and coiled, playing with the occasional gleams of light throughout the place. The brooding silence was interrupted occasionally by the whispering shift of the decaying bonds of flesh and the occasional drip-drip-drop of clotting blood.

Then, without warning, Av?sa-n?ru, The Dark One whirled and stared at Nocent again, offering a bow. The obeisance was both mocking and formal, androgynous in its purity of grace. "That little War Council was so very meticulous with their security arrangements about the Ravenlock Compound, yet alas! they suffer from that dangerous weakness. I am afraid they were not quite as circumspect as they should have been in their choice of allies. I was peripherally invited to observe, shall we say. And so, I am here to share that most marvelous blessing of all: knowledge. Would you like to hear what I learned, Nocent??

There was a smug teasing sound in this polite query. Without waiting for a response, the low, mellifluous voice chortled and continued. ?You will not be surprised that chief in opposition to you are the Daughters of Scathach and the tame brutes of men they keep.? Scathach . . .that word was spat out with poisoned disgust. In contrast, the next statement was spoken in a silken purr. ?And the whole damned clan of Ravenlocks, of course. Jewell was quite appreciative of your gift, by the way."

A slow saunter took the armored figure close to Nocent's corrupt throne, then The Dark One again stood before the Priestess of Bhaal, basking in the malicious aura as the Scathachian allies were recounted. ?There was a wind elemental and Wyheree, the Ice Mage. And . . . an Elf-girl, a Wind Mage, all easily broken. In a way, that was once my life's work," Av?sa-n?ru sneered audibly. "Even now, the murder of elves and the taming of elementals is still so rewarding. I digress - They had a hybrid demon-wolf creature of some skill, though his name was not known to me. Icer the Dragon was there and offered the support of her kin and clan.? Privately, Av?sa-n?ru thought that either the wolf or the dragon would make potent sacrifices to the God of Murder, and both would serve the Nexus better as rugs upon a hearth somewhere.

?Ewan Corinsson did sit upon their Council and provided sage advice. Fortunately, I have word that he has other duties, which will likely keep him well-occupied and out of the way. The barrister, Lucien Mallorek, was invited though notably absent. One might question why.? Av?sa-n?ru lowered the hood of the cloak, face revealed to Nocent. "This so-called War Council had little cohesion and no true sense of leadership. They argued and bickered incessantly. . . could hardly divide up their duties and patrols, much less agree on the results of their various investigations. They speculated that a red-haired woman was responsible or at least present at each of the most significant scenes. They have observed the ritual nature, the sense of dark magic, even that daywalkers, undead that can withstand the light of the sun may be involved."

The straps of a gauntlet were adjusted as Av?sa-n?ru's glowing eyes fixed solely upon the Priestess of Bhaal. The gaze was heady in its demonic intensity. "Yet . . . they are focusing on common criminals and lawbreakers, slavers and the like, hoping to sift their prey out of common chaff."