In the dark of the night, three men had gathered outside the door of the Broken Dagger. Garbed all in black, nothing could be ssen of them save their eyes, which shone with a pale yellow light. Hushed whispers passed 'tween them, as well as hisses and growls. Once, a passerby glanced up at the sound of said hissing. The poor farmer never saw daylight again. The corpse would not be found, save by those who walked the realms of the shadows. After talking for some time, two of the men promptly stepped around the corner of the inn. A sickening sound was heard, of organs and bones rearranging. A flap of leathery wings, also, and the third man walked into the dagger, calling for some wine. Pritchard nodded, but kept a wary eye on the oddly dressed man. He may be old, and a bit thick-headed, but he can always spy trouble. This man had no intention of bring attention to himself just yet, and after he had taken the wine, he headed back out the door. Stepping into the shadows, and a brief transformation occured. He would be back.
A new threat has come to Myrken...
