A Rising Tide

Is this all just a smoked red herring?

How it is that events always turn for the worse. The Con Artist’s friend Taz — more of a friend of her other friend Wrist, really — tracks her down in a panic. Wrist is kidnapped! Stolen away! Forced to return to his home village. What?

The green-eyed man from the Isles appeared and with Wrists’ cousins, forced him away. Probably back to his home village, Calder’s Run. What could this mean?

The Con Artist, naturally, gathers her army. The Blacksmith doesn’t feel the urgency, but goes to get the Historian anyway. Perhaps the Historian should now be the Apprentice, for that is how he spends his time in Dishun’s Apothecary — as an apprentice. Dishun sends him on his way with a mysterious glass vial filled with something green and evil.

To the east the army travels: The Merchant, the Blacksmith, the Apprentice and the Con Artist. Plus, of course, the army: The Merchant’s Bodyguard, Taz and three of his dubious friends from the dockworker’s unions and Mutt, the bouncer at the Con Artists’ regular hangout.

Into the foggy east they go, knowing it is a fell time to walk the fens. Hags are about, as are the Grey Ladies, either bringing a horrible fate though one brings more spilled blood than the other.

Calder’s Run is an unwelcoming place. Strange fishy totems guard the wagon track, and fog threatens to swallow the interlopers into the muck of the swamp. But they perservere.

It is midnight when eyes are set upon the village, and the little army sees bustling activity. Midnight in a village readying itself for a wedding. How strange.

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