Gloom prevailed in the great hall, its central fire-pit left to burn down to glowing coals, while heavy drapes blocked out the linger daylight. Seated to the far end was what appeared to be an unkempt wild man, with an unruly mop of dark hair and a ragged beard, garbed in what looked like a dressing robe… surely this couldn’t be the lord-protector of Winter Edge! “I’m afraid my uncle is unfit to receive you properly… he’s been suffering from a mindfire for the nearly a week,” Kara admitted solemnly as she knelt beside him. “Our cleric declared that it’s a punishment from Tempus for not striking back against the orcs who’ve harassed us for months… and claims that he can’t cure it. Instead he has sent many of our young warriors to their deaths in pointless skirmishes with the orcs.” “Would you allow me to attempt a curing spell,” Faeryl offered with sincere concern. Although the companions had been welcomed as honored guests, the pair of vigilant men-at-arms who flanked the lord-protector made it clear that they were to keep their distance. “If your Dark Maiden will grant you the power to relieve this ailment where Tempus wont, then I beg of you to do so,” Kara pleaded with tears brimming in her eyes. She’d never heard of a goddess worshiped by good drow before… in fact she’d never heard of good drow before. Her only experience with them was the few that traded in Zhentil Keep, who were greedy and cruel, but in the brief time she’d spent with this priestess she seemed to be nearly their opposite. “What do you think you’re doing!” Faeryl had just knelt beside Kara’s uncle to begin her healing prayer when the doors of the great hall burst open and an older man dressed in chain armor, baring the symbol of Tempus on his tabard, stormed in, undoubtedly the town’s cleric, with several armored men in his wake. “You failed to heal Igan… maybe she can,” Kara countered the clearly furious priest, as she rose to shield Faeryl, “or is that what you’re afraid of!” “I fear nothing… I have Tempus’ blessing. But you would allow a drow to minister to our lord-protector… have you lost all sense girl!” Pavel bellowed angerly, then he motioned to his entourage and commanded; “Stop her!” Aeron, Galen, Nykira and Tarl moved to block the advances men, as the dwarf warned; “Think twice lads!” But his caution went unheeded and a scuffle ensued, until a commanding voice rang out from behind them; “What goes on here! Why is there unrest in my hall… and who are these strangers?” Igan Starag, lord-protector of Winter Edge, rose unsteadily to his feet, the inferno that blazed in his skull for so many days was extinguished and the fog over his thoughts was lifting. His niece and four strangers stood in clear conflict with Pavel Chernin, the town’s cleric, and a beautiful drow knelt by his side… what in the high heavens was going on!