The carriage came to a full stop just outside the crumbling ramparts of the former guild stronghold. Ivy and moss covered the worn stone like a poorly tended garden. While the tower itself was at a settling tilt, it was still no less imposing than it must have been many years ago. The old relic from a bygone chapter of Rhy'Din's history needed definite work.

Her blood ghouled driver came to open the carriage door for her and she slid out of her seat as senuously as a serpent. Once her heeled shoes met the damp, grassy ground covered with detritus like old twigs, pine cones, leaves, and pine needles, she sashayed across to the yawning front gates of the castle. The high noon sun that her magical ring protected her from left few shadows, allowing the entirety of the ruin to be illuminated.

Dracina smiled at her prize then, picturing it restored to its once pristine glory. She still felt that peculiar connection to this place and despite the time she had to mull it over on the way here, she still didn't understand it. Perhaps it was simply the sense of mystery?

Still, it feels like there's something more, she thought. So... familiar....

Her eyes glanced over the construction equipment that had been brought in and the small trailer that had been stationed nearby that served as the office for the foreman. No one was present at the moment, but the following weeks would see this area bustling with activity. She strode through the gates and made her way up to the castle itself across the courtyard.

That's when she noticed the footprints. One of an adult, the other of a child. The prints were a couple years old from their appearance, but still a clue that someone had been here in recent years. Undoubtedly most old castles like this were targets for bandits and raiders, but children were unlikely robbers. Probably a single parent and their child looking for shelter during a long trip on the road. Nothing to grow concerned over.

After stepping inside, Dracina began a brief tour of the building's interior. She passed through a dozen large, dusty rooms that smelled of aging mold. The rooms spoke of a history that was nearly forgotten and a sort of comeradery that would probably never be seen again. It seemed a tragedy, especially to one such as her that continued to be haunted by a troubling sense of familiarity with this place.

"But I've never been here once in my entire unlife," she said softly to herself.

She shivered uncomfortably, wondering if it was from the gripping madness that constantly ailed her and struggled to hide when in civilized environments and utterly reveled in when attending a Bhaalite ceremony. That might have explained it. No, that had to have explained it. There just wasn't any other explanation for it.

She stood now in an old storage room which housed a number of interesting artifacts. Some were equipment for building pavilions and tents, others were racks of weapons, or boxes filled with wine, beer, rum, or scotch. She brushed a cobweb to the side and caught something in the corner that looked intimately familiar; she hurried over to it.

It was a banner, a large one, and emblazoned across it were the words "The Rat Pack." She stared at it with a jolt of nausea and for a split second she was staring at an elven woman with blond hair looking at her with amusement and an unusual feeling of embarrassment washing over her. Then, as quickly as it came, the mental picture was gone and Dracina dropped the banner in shock.

What was that? she thought.

There was another banner nearby, one that she had to examine as well. "Vixens Vs. Studs" it read and despite the suggestive connotations of such a thing, she began to laugh hysterically. She had no idea why she was laughing, but laughed she did, the sound echoing through the empty stone halls.