A drift of steam rose from the entrance on the west side of town. This particular grate was tucked in the wall of a smithy, making the rising steam less questionable to those with sharp eyes. It was also an exceptionally warm entrance as the stones beneath the smith?s furnace that made the ceiling and one wall of the start of the entrance rarely cooled. During the summer this would be one harsh portal to use. Still, during the winter months it was a welcome feeling and instant thawing before one dropped down into the tunnels below, coming into an intersection of five corridors.

Maze stood waiting, a lantern at his feet cast odd shadows along the concave walls of the tunnels. ?I see you got my message.?

?Do I not always?? Ewan moved forward and offered his arm out that the man took in kind for a brief greeting.

He chuckled, ?Some more quickly than others.?

One shoulder lifted in a shrug, ?The faults of a secret code system.?

?I?ll risk it,? Maze nodded with less cheer. ?I heard about the office.?

?Who did not?? Ewan scowled, his jaw clenched. ?I need to know more than what was seen after though. I also need the Tunnelers to start coordinating above ground, which means a separate code system. Something easy, and probably something more quickly relayed. We will have to risk writing it down.?

?I will have some of our smarter members come up with something that we can share up ground.?

?You will not be working on it??

Maze laughed briefly, ?I get a few nights off from time to time. I am due to meet my wife at the Round Friar Tavern, and I have to clean off the stench of the tunnels first, so that means the bath house. I have a life, you know, lad. You might want to check into such a thing.?

Ewan frowned and barely managed not to roll his eyes, but then clapped the man on the shoulder, ?Then I will meet with you tomorrow at the far cottage to see what progress has been made.?

?Where are you bound?? Maze asked as they turned to part company.

?I have my life, too, and I think I will see what the Inn can tell me, and the docks, and the taverns, and the cafes, and the streets.? Ewan chuckled.

Maze smirked, ?That?s not a life, Quicksand, that?s a sure way to lose your soul.? He lifted a hand to fare him well, ?Walk safely.?

Ewan nodded, ?Walk safely.?

"I disagree," Ewan spoke reverently to the man across the table from him.

Another night, another patrol, patternless patterns. Zesperis more happily enstalled in her stall behind the smaller ale house, the Water's Edge, than behind the Red Dragon Inn, mainly because the keeper's son, also named Jolin, was grooming her so thoroughly Ewan was sure she felt properly pampered and adulated over.

The tavern was always a quieter place, even the sailors that stopped here seemed to do so for the solitude of a quiet drink away from the bodies they've had to share space with for weeks on end. This was not to say the tavern did not get busy, for it most certainly did, but the patrons of this establishment were here to talk about their voyages, or not talk about their voyages, and to hear themselves think. Jolin, the elder and keeper, was a strict, but jovial personality that took to keeping the atmosphere friendly without subversion into a caterwauling brothel in disguise.

Jolin sat with Ewan and they talked of the events of the city, "Of course you disagree, Ewan, because your a too logical bastard, and as likely to see hope when others see despair as seeing despair when others see hope. Do you make it your job to be the opposing view?" The man grinned, teeth stained from days of ale and smokeless tobacco.

This late in the evening, or early in the morning, when only Ewan would drift by, Jolin had taken to meeting with him once a week. The two men had met by chance, and Ewan had done a good turn for him that bound the two fast. "Only when I think the opposing view is necessary."

"Stop thinking so much, my friend, or you'll not be worth anything." Both men snickered, though for different reasons. Neither touched their ales both half finished and anticipating the next drink to be taken. "Are you at least getting more sleep?"

"No, not as yet, but I suspect I will feel better on the trip home."

"When do you go?"

"Four days time," Ewan finally took that next drink of ale. "You know where to go while I am gone."

"That I do," Jolin nodded.

Ewan rose fluidly without unnecessary motion of arms or feet, a step and a slide and he was up. A power of eagerness to be moving fired his muscles,and he knew it was time to go. "I will come back at dawn to get Zesperis."

"Walk safely," Jolin looked skeptically at him.

"Walk safely, Jolin," Ewan gave a reassuring smile and lifted the cowl from his shoulders as he made his way to the back exit to finish his wanderings this night, to find a new path, and see if the city had changed his shape again with goings and comings.

Assuredly, the diligent keeper of these stables would have been alerted to this grim spectacle if he, himself, hadn't been viciously stabbed to death by this rampaging, dark warrior over an hour ago.

Thirty painful times did Giminicka's serried blade bite into the tanned flesh of his thorax and abdomen..........thirty new, jagged mouths all spewing forth the stable keeper's vitae. After happily watching him die, Giminicka left the man in a pool of his own urine and blood.....making sure to crudely carve the name SCATHACH onto his right forearm.

As for Zesperis........the equestrian lady of Ewan?s eye.....she was now forever gone.

No need to frown! Let us further continue this evil tale of gore and murder, shall we?

The grim warlord of Bhaal stoically walked into the adjacent stable where she had earlier stashed several other key players in this abominable little game of death. Slung over her sculpted shoulder, she casually carried the blood soaked battle axe.

?And to what do we owe this distinct pleasure......" Nocent softly cooed as she glared into the pen at her other distinguished guests. The dim stall contained three people.......one of which still had a heartbeat. Such a fun, fun game this was becoming, indeed. Let us more closely examine our ?other? contestants......firstly the ones who were no longer in need of any oxygen or water.

The first and foremost was the loyal Tunneler named Jolin. He was a man of respectable quality and more importantly, he was a friend of Lord Corisson. Yes, good Ewan.....the meddlesome bastard who was now either f**king the new governor or fantasizing about doing so. Jolin was crookedly slumped against the back wall of the stall, framed in a quaint design of partially coagulated blood. His mouth gaping......while his blank, dilated eyes remained open and unblinking.

When Jolin recovered from the nasty little bump on his head he foolishly tried to attack Giminicka.......he relied on his sudden outburst of emotions and passionate love to drive back the Beast.....to save his family from the cavernous jaws of death. Love and emotions were never a good defense against unholy steel.......steel which tears flesh, sheds blood, and unexpectedly ends dreams.

When he opened his mouth to scream a cry of vile protest, Nocent sprung her wrist blade and plunged it through his open mouth........her lethal stroke continued until the blade exploded through the back of his cranium and slammed into the aged wood of the walls. It immediately severed his spinal cord and coarsely shredded his cerebellum. After relishing in his bodily convulsions and violent sputtering, she retracted her wrist-weapon. As she pulled the blade out of Jolin, splinters of wood suspended in a noxious, bloody mixture of brain matter followed the long knife back to its Mistress. Poor little useless man.

Jolin had a fifteen year old daughter, Grace. ?Had? was the most accurate of words. Giminicka had ended her precious life when she snapped her weak neck like a dry twig. It was a most nauseating sound.......for she didn?t just wrench Grace?s little neck until it broke, but Nocent instead proceeded to twist her head until it was completely facing backwards. Yes.....just like a wise old owl. Jolin, unfortunately, didn?t find the allusion quite so amusing.

Giminicka?s frenzied gaze swept over the body of Jolin....whose mouth was forever frozen in a scream of sheer distress and terror. She continued past the contorted form of young Grace, who was neatly arranged in the corner. Undeniably her small body was facing inwards to the corner like a child being scolded..... her head and face, on the contrary, were twisted to look outwards.......so that she could stare out and greet anyone who wandered into the vacant stall. What a silly, silly girl........sitting around with her adorable head on backwards. Giminicka was insanely delighted.

Yes.......yes.......yes.........then there was the third participator. One who still retained a pulse....one whose heart was beating so furiously that it nearly burst out of her well endowed chest. Elissa.......that was her sweet, sweet name.

Elissa......wife of Jolin........mother of Grace. Two of those three individuals were now stone dead. Time for this mother....wife......wanton slut whore...to join them in murdered harmony.

The Anti Scathachian inclined her head slightly and stared at the bound and gagged woman. She loved to make the mothers, in particular, helplessly watch as their children died agonizing and horrid deaths........it stirred passions in her like nothing else could.

Her lips curled into a feral grin as she spoke to the beaten and traumatized woman, "Oh do not shed a tear my love.....soon you shall be with your happy little family in Heaven. Heaven is where well-mannered, religious families like yourself go to when they are exterminated like the gutter vermin they are. I can promise you this though.......you will not die quickly like your weak husband and your pathetic daughter........no no. Your death will take some melodious, sweet time. And as you choke and splutter on your own blood laced bile, you can place your woeful blame on your husband's devoted friend, Ewan Corinsson."

Nocent sauntered closer to the tearful, sobbing woman and knelt down in front of her so that they were nose to nose.......predator and prey. Her snakelike, pink tongue lustfully licked at Elissa's barbwire and cloth gag. Wasting little time with pleasantries, Nocent leaned in and placed a single tender kiss on that same painfully fastened gag. So erotic.......so carnal. She then leisurely stood back up to her full towering height and ran a gauntleted hand through her sticky hair.

Giminicka indifferently tossed the large axe onto Jolin's lap and stepped back to this particular stable's entryway. Her very voice was soaked in malice, "Unfortunately, my moistened lamb, I won't be the one orgasming in pure ecstasy when your tender flesh is torn.............when your feeble bones are snapped........and when your sad little face is split in half. No love, I invited a dear friend and ally here to partake in that great honor. Nasty sense of humor she has, that one there. She fancies unsullied, fresh meat like you........and she's quite a hungry lioness. Oh wait.........by Bhaal's great blessing......there she is now."

Nocent's icy gaze turned to the main entrance of the stables, "Elissa....my dear......death has come calling....."

Nocent watched as Dracina executed her grand work of art. Upside-down indeed, she ruminated as she stared hungrily at Dracina's bloodstained hands and arms. Her ebony blade, Deathbringer, had hacked and slashed the body of dear Elissa until the mangled torso resembled some Abyssal monstrosity rather than the corpse of a loving wife and mother.

Giminicka placed her armored hand on Dracina's shoulder and gently turned her around so that they could face one another. The cruel Priestess of Bhaal then leaned down and began to ravage Dracina's mouth with a lustful kiss......her agile tongue savagely exploring the kindred's dangerous oral cavity......even cutting it on her razor-sharp fangs. Strong hands explored Dracina's perfect, stocking covered legs and tight waist as Nocent continued to lustfully worship the mouth of the undead queen.

Bliss. The more Nocent touched her, the more drunk off of the lurking evil she became. The Beast within snarled its mounting fury as Giminicka pushed herself closer against Dracina's succulent breasts......both of their bodies now grisly blood soaked messes. The grim duo's explosion of desire was quite a display.......and the audience of the chaotically mangled corpses were the perfect spectators for this gory performance.

When she broke their embrace, it was all she could do not to take Dracina right here in this nightmarish slaughterhouse. Her steady voice was full.....sodden with desire, "At the IronHelm........we shall continue this dance at the IronHelm........more rotting eyes to watch us writhe as one..........my love."

Giminicka abruptly moved to the corpse of Jolin and picked up the axe from his cold lap. Her lethal eyes seemed to flicker in the dimly lit stall as she spoke aloud once more, "Let me provide you with more pieces for your sculpture love..........a fine artist like yourself need not be limited by mere resources."

With that, Nocent swung the mighty axe around and slammed its steel head into the long legs of Jolin. The powerful axe struck just above the dead man's kneecaps.......the sound of snapping bone was as charming to her as a faultless violin solo........blood spattered sharply and sinisterly decorated both Giminicka and the stained wooden floors. One more impressive swing, and both of Jolin's legs were completely severed.......the remnants of his fractured femurs poked through his torn flesh like two ivory pegs. The ragged stumps oozed and gushed.

Legs are fine.....but arms and hands are just as sugary sweet. The brutal weapon rose and fell several more times.......blood sprayed like an aged bottle of champagne and continued to hideously decorate the death-ridden stall......as well as both of the ruthless killers.

Giminicka offered all of the severed limbs to Dracina with an intense reverence for the homicidal artist. She presented all but Jolin?s left arm, now devoid of a hand, to the murderous kindred. She then strolled to the back of the stall and disrespectfully used the blood drenched arm to scribe a pleasant little message on the wall. When the note was completed, the Anti Scathachian stepped back and admired her shocking work.

Nocent slowly brought the detached arm to her mouth and tore a large piece of the flesh off of it with her powerful jaws and teeth..........her mouth rhythmically moved up and down as she thoroughly chewed the cool flesh and then swallowed it smoothly. She quickly took another robust bite.....and another.....followed by yet another. This growing girl had a hardy appetite to maintain.......she naturally had to keep up her prodigious strength. Fresh meat, after all, is the culinary hallmark of any muscle-building diet.

Nocent silently feasted and the Beast within roared. Meanwhile, the bloody ink utilized to scribble the ghastly message on the wall began to gradually drip and run........its connotation, nonetheless, retained all of its malicious impact:

WITH LOVING DEDICATION TO LORD EWAN CORINSSON.......THANK YOU FOR KILLING US.
WE'LL WATCH YOU FROM HELL.

~JOLIN, ELISSA, GRACE, ZESPERIS

Night had gone and dawn broke raw and red on the horizon of the waters. Ewan turned weary steps back to the Water?s Edge where he would reclaim Zesperis for a ride northward and collapse into bed before he packed for his journey home just a day and a half away.

He stopped short in the small courtyard that lay between tavern and stables. The skittering sound unnatural in this setting, and he could not place it. Too much was quite that should be heard, too much heard that should not be. A drop of water ticked away at his senses as if it fell against his neck below his ear. He pushed away the sensation as he walked stealthily toward the stables, keeping close to the walls and shadows that still remained in the unfinished dawn.

The scuttling grew more distinct but still unidentifiable, and more so the alarm of a silent Zesperis and no stable manager?s snoring in his small room. Ewan curved around the entry and with the quick realization of times past, he rose from his hiding and followed the blood flow of the stable breezeway into the two stalls that were the source of the red river.

There was no fear that the perpetrators remained to attack him. He knew this gruesome work as he viewed with cool green eyes the distorted and butchered remains of Zesperis. Light fell from him and banished away from face and eyes as he kneeled within the blood and gore and examined the strikes that had destroyed the body of this wondrous creature that had too often saved his life. Fingers moved over torn flesh and bone, analyzing the blows that he could still see, the length of the weapon and its style as well as the weight and strength required to make the rending of flesh and shattering of bone. At last, he found the remains of his horse?s tail and removed seven long black strands that he reverently curled even as he coated it with the blood on his hands and tucked them into his coin pouch.