Drulissa's Domain

 Zesik moved like a shadow up the gangplank of the ship, silently and without being noticed. Varlikh was right behind him, a phantom in black leather, while Dragskarr brought up the rear, a monolithic figure of black scales and simmering power. Talianimi remained on the dock, her mind a razor-sharp blade, slicing through the fog and into the minds of the men on board. She was a ghost in the machine, a silent observer, her presence a secret known only to her and Varlikh. The ship was a hive of activity, but the fog had turned it into a world of muffled sounds and indistinct shapes. The men were tense, their hands on their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of trouble. Zesik and Varlikh moved with a deadly grace, their steps silent, their movements fluid. They were two sides of the same coin, one a master of stealth and subterfuge, the other a master of death and destruction. Dragskarr was a force of nature, a storm given flesh. He moved with a deliberate, unhurri...

 The bitter cold cut like a blade across the Halas docks, the gray-green ocean whipping foam off the tops of waves, and ice chunks floating in the hostile sea. The sun never rises this time of year, but the days were growing longer, and the eternal twilight of summer would begin soon. The men fanned across the docks, taking places at markets, fishmongers, docked longboats, bait shops, net repair stalls, and other dockside shoppes crammed onto the pier, shuttered lanterns providing just enough light to do business by, legal or otherwise. The black-scaled Iskar walked beside a hooded man as they made their way towards the arranged meeting point. "I don't get it, Dragskarr," the man said from under his hood. "I treated those girls like family, raised them all in a, well, not loving, but a good home where they were spared the rod, and this is what they do to repay me?" "Varlikh," the Iskar growled, "they wish nothing to do with you now, save Kali. She...