Drulissa's Domain

 Lady Alustrae sat in her office aboard her father's Flagship, the Starcrest Valor, the ship swaying gently in the harbor, the rhythmic creak of the wood a soothing counterpoint to the storm raging in her mind. The room was a sanctuary of order, the mahogany desk polished to a high gloss, the legal tomes neatly stacked, the ship's log open on a stand, its pages filled with her elegant script. She looked at the report, her eyes scanning the words, her face a mask of grim determination. The report was from Blaquetail, the Ratonga assassin who had found her at the docks, his words a chilling account of the battle at the lighthouse. A vampire. A vessel for the Plaguebringer. A charade with a phantom Ereon. It was a nightmare. A waking nightmare that threatened to consume Qeynos, to plunge the city into a darkness from which it might never recover. She looked at the map of Norrath spread out on her desk, her fingers tracing the coastline, the cities, the forests, the mountains. She ...

 A wagon full of supplies ambled up the lighthouse road, a shipment that those inside would be expecting. What they would not be expecting were the assassins who had snuck along for the ride. Dragskarr narrowed his eyes and peered out of the tarp. "We approach. Prepare yourselves." Varlkh nodded. "Right, let's make it quick. Tali, do your thing." Talianimi's violet eyes glowed as she focused, lashing out at the minds of the two cloaked men guarding the door. She found their thoughts and ripped them to shreds. The two men stumbled back, their faces contorted in silent agony, their hands clutching at their heads, a torrent of psychic fire tearing through their minds. They collapsed to the ground, their bodies twitching in a final, futile dance of death. Talianimi's goat-like eyes scanned the area. "Guards down. Illastria says there are four inside, two men and the woman. There is a bard there with them, but she cannot tell if it's Ereon." ...