The dark water lapped against the supporting beams of the large docks like a famished tongue. The thief, Krysira, could hear the night's vacant sounds echoing through the buildings surrounding the hallowed
docks??the chill winds continued to whistle their taunting, diminutive melody??and such a lingering melody it was.

It was past the meeting time?well past the dreaded eleventh hour.......Where was she?

That indeed was the icy question.

In the distance, a mangy stray cat hissed its discontent.

The question still loomed....Where was Nocent?

Had this all been a callous setup?
Truthfully............besides this cryptic note she had just received, Krysira hadn?t heard from her sinister ally in well over two weeks.
Perhaps the abomination had finally fled the city......or better yet...........maybe she was slain by the overwhelming might of the Scathachians and their staunch allies..........was Nocent already dead?

The sea?s frigid tendrils smoothly bumped against the docks, carrying with it the salty aroma of the ocean?s endless bosom.

Krysira?s mind would continue to ponder the possibilities.....Had the 9 Hells at last swallowed up their sickly abortion, which they had so malevolently spewed forth onto RhyDin and its citizens?
And, if Nocent was indeed gone........was she, herself, then finally free from these horrendous tasks that she had been forced to execute under pain of.........?

The macabre answer soon presented itself.

As Krysira?s keen eyes scanned the foggy confines of the dismal docks, her line of vision caught sight of something in the sea........very close.
Just near the wooden supports of the docks themselves.........."something" was crowning the surface of the dark waters.

She would have guessed it to be a rock, a small barrel, or even some form of sea-life had it stopped rising..........but sadly, it did not.

The shape broke the surface???a head??long dark hair framed its shoulders as the form moved..........Krysira could swear that she saw those menacing eyes flicker from behind the mass of wet tendrils that shrouded the face of this ?thing?.

It glided to the bulky wooden supports.........silently, but for the smooth ripples of the gentle sea left in its wake.

Powerful hands suddenly gripped the dock supports and hauled itself up the pier slowly.......methodically.
Like a blood-sick ghoul arising from the very maw of the this endless oceanic wasteland, it persisted in its upward movements??each gauntleted fingertip continued to dig into the very wood of the dock.........forcing jagged splinters and grimy residues to spike upwards.

The figure rose to its complete height, and stood eerily silent on the dock?s edge before Krysira.
Tall it was............a seemingly statuesque black shadow against the near-midnight sky.
Thoroughly soaked hair hung in front of its face??long, thick tresses which formed an ebon web??a blanketing veil to mask the specter?s visage.

It finally took a stride towards Krysira?..a jerky motion at first.......unnatural??like an unsteady mechanized toy of a child.
It took another.........then it stopped.

A strong hand unhurriedly moved to its own face, and pushed back the mop of drenched hair which hung so thickly in front of its features.

Nocent?s malicious face seemed to dissolve into the view of Krysira.

A sinful grin, like the very mocking face of death?s own angel, split her sharp, wet lips.

Her voice was low?enriched with the blackest intent???and Krysira could swear that it even retained a soggy pitch to it.

The beast within gazed at its emissary as the waterlogged voice coldly whispered.

?Hello my love.............so glad you could come.?

The towering "Anti-Scathachian", Giminicka, stood silent for a long, solid minute. Deadly silent. That soaked, dark hair still hung in front of her face like a veil shrouding this wet undersea ghoul who had arisen in search of its next mound of human flesh to devour.

Her sharp emerald eyes, so shadowy in this misty night, seemed to pierce the very soul of the young thief from Guller's Creek. So much to behold in those striking eyes.......at one time the future of a potential heroine...........now but a hollow and deadly shell which was rimmed with death.

The Beast within was lethally aroused......its hunger was nearly insatiable. It truly needed to gorge itself on the warm, soft tissue of a fresh kill. The more that it leered at Krysira.......the more it wished to bathe itself in her balmy blood.
Kill her now.......spare her the pain of her miserable, empty life. Tear out the very throat from her lanky body...........watch her bleed.....watch......watch.....oh by the gods all of that wet, pulsating blood........she'd sputter with ripe crimson droplets hanging from her full lips.........she'd gag wildly in her own dripping secretions.....................and then little Krysira would die.

Nocent sighed audibly........eerily.

NO. Not quite yet. Finish the game with "The Sisters" first..........the little slut from Guller's Creek would make a nice dessert after these Scathachian whores were dealt with properly. And without a solitary doubt.....all of those little crimson sash-wearing bitches, that wretched harlot Jewell Ravenlock, her lovesick vigilante brother Brian, that interfering bastard Mallorek, and all of the Scathachians' little f**king pathetic friends and nursemaids would soon be dealt with.......excruciatingly so.
It was all coming together......methodically and just as Lord Bhaal had desired. It was time to take the next step........

Nocent extended her crimson-gauntleted hand towards her frightened emissary.........stale salt water dripped from her iron fingertips.
"I have summoned you here for your diligent eyes and ears my love.......what news of ongoing events do you have for me?" Giminicka slowly tilted her drenched head slightly to one side.....like a wild animal.........lethally poised.

Her voice oozed with venom,"I know you have succulent information for mine ears to take in Krysira............at least.........for your sake you had better."

Nocent remained silent throughout the babbling report by Krysira. She could smell the fear in the young thief from Guller's Creek......she reeked of it. It was in Krysira's sun-kissed skin, in her shifty eyes, and in her very soul. The clever, little bitch was beginning to understand that this is a road from which you don't simply turn off of..........some things in this dismal life are indeed final.

She spoke. "Very good Krysira. I am pleased with this information. Let us now carefully review, shall we??
The Anti-Scathachian paused only briefly before continuing her scornful summary:
?A new half-breed tramp governor named Kitty is going to tame the wild city...........a stubborn little bastard of a vigilante, Lord Ravenlock, simply won't quit probing while he still has his balls intact.......a new Scathachian whore named Janet has come to add to the ever-growing brothel.....hence more Scathachian whores are roaming our very streets en masse. Accurate thus far?
So...that brings us to yet another poor Scathachian harlot who is physically so strong, yet she seems to have the unmanageable predicament of an arachnid infestation........then there is the barrister Mallorek who likes to play at defending the helpless, when in fact he should defend himself from the enemy who now knows where he rests his pitiful head at night.
Lovely, lovely........we then have been abundantly blessed with a dead male called Skyler who was not only a colossal waste of life, but who was also viciously murdered several days ago by some unsung hero.........and consequently we are now responsible for a grieving, over-dramatic little bitch who is affectionately called 'The Empress'. Her chiseled face remained stoic behind that thick veil of wet hair. "Did I leave anything out my love?"

Upon hearing no response from the hushed Krysira and doubting that she even was aware of the vague reference to Reeni and her many eight-legged gifts, Giminicka slowly continued. "Well......please let me add some rich information to your cabbalistic stew, love. My divine sister, Isuelt......she has a close yet very estranged male friend. Unfortunately, he is not yet dead and buried like that heinous filth who laid with the intolerable fool, Jewell Ravenlock. This one?s name is Scorpion Wraitharan, and his ship, The Bischoff, docked here two nights ago. He is searching her out Krysira......searching with such silent passion.........I trust their reunion will be filled with love and exhilaration. It's always quite nice to see two lost people reunited, isn't it Krysira?"

Her tone was icy.

Nocent took several steps towards her anxious emissary. "I will let them reunite......let them share fiery kisses....and even let them delve into the uncultivated throngs of violent intercourse.........and then my love, I will slaughter him. I will mangle him........break him......tear into his sweet flesh with the fury of a thousand winged demons. And then, when I have had my well deserved fun, I will force my little Illea to drink his chilled blood like the filthy insignificant bitch that she is. I truly want her to live with yet another failure, in her shallow and self-loathing life. By the end I vow to He, that Isuelt DeRomiano and all those who follow her hapless doctrines will understand so much more of what Hell truthfully is."

How did she know?

Did it really matter how? The fact that she knew was enough to stiffen the short hairs on the back of Krysira's neck.

Her tongue began its nervous clicking of the tongue stud. Nocent could probably smell the fear pouring out of the thief's pores, she hated the uncanny ability that Nocent had of predicting actions and events...especially where Krysira was concerned.

She had been dismissed.

And the night's biting chill still wasn't as shrill as the frost coming from Nocent's expression. Cold was an understatement.

Krysira was ebbing away from apathy. Her blas? feelings for Nocent's victims were quickly evaporating. It was not that she cared for them, quite the opposite. But her mind spun around in circles trying to comprehend the power that Nocent wielded. If she could unseat the Scathachians as bringers of justice, then what chance did the rest of the city have at standing up to this monster?

"Well, I guess you know where to find me, then..." her voice trailed off. It was a silly sentiment, but Krysira tried to sound casual. Her tongue stud clicked a few more times as she turned slightly to avoid the steel-mawed stare of Nocent. "Iron Helm Flats...yeah, I remember. Got it, Red Wall," a shutter stemmed up her spine. Yeah, right. Like I'd go down there. Especially after last time. "See you around, then," a wave of her fingerless glove, more to hide the shaking than anything else. She was longing for the warm safety of four walls away from Nocent.

Let the Scathachians fend for themselves.

Well, at least for now.