Unwelcome attention.


Carefully collecting up the papers in front of him, Geblin places them in a leather satchel and hands it to the figure sitting opposite him.

“I’m afraid that about covers everything?” concludes Geblin as he stands.

“Aye, it does” rumbles the stout dwarf. And with that he drains his tankard, wipes clean his ruddy beard, then readies himself for the cold outdoors.

“Geblin me lad, we both know that war is coming and I know what my people offer has a price, but there isn’t enough men in the Empire to fight another war” says the Dwarf solemnly. “Is it not said that his army is greater than before and that many of those who fell in battle against him now fight for him.”

“Indeed, I find myself waking every night, fearing the worst. But what else can I do? What else can the Empire do? We must fight.” Replies Geblin.

Once farewells have been exchanged, the front door is heaved open and needing no second invitation the north wind billows in and extinguishes all but one of the lamps.

Closing the door Geblin can’t help but let out a tired smile as the dwarf trudges off into the night complaining about the, “bastard cold wind” and “it being warmer under ground”.

No sooner has the heavy front door been locked and bolted, than someone or something begins hammering upon it.

With the threat of an attack still playing on his mind, Geblin collects his quarter staff from beside the hearth. Feeling somewhat safer he quietly pads over to the door. As he does so the lack of light gives the cramped room a sinister edge.
It’s been a good few years since he last handled a weapon and the staff does feel somewhat awkward and unwieldy.

“Who is it? Have you no home to go to?”

The hammering stops.

“Geblin, let me in.” replies a familiar voice.

Knowing his friend’s voice, he unlocks the door and before he’s able to say a word, Mortloc over turns the dining table, sending the contents to the floor, and drags it toward the larger of the two windows.

“Don’t just stand there, help me block the window” snaps Mortloc.

“Why are you still here?” questions Geblin as he helps with the table.

“Well” starts Mortloc as he jams a dining chair under the door handle. “I didn’t leave three days ago as I’ve been keeping an eye on you. This evening I fully intended to head back to the frontier, but no more than a few moments ago I saw something moving through the shadows towards your house.”

“And you think they might be connected to the rumour regarding me?” replies Geblin fidgeting uncomfortably.

“To be honest I’m not sure, but what ever it was knew I was watching and soon disappeared.” Fishing about in his pocket, Mortloc takes out a small, thick glass bottle. “This I use to track the dead and the half dead plague carriers.”

Mortloc gives the small tear drop shaped bottle between his thumb and fore finger a gentle shake, as he does so the liquid inside begins to glow with an eerie blue light.

“When it glows so, it means a plague bearer is close bye.”

As Mortloc puts the bottle back into a pocket, a gust of wind buffets the windows and rattles the roof tiles. With that the sound of a dislodged tile that skitters its way down the roof, before smashing on the causeway, startles both men.
Making ready his shield, Mortloc draws his blade. Mortloc gestures in silence for Geblin to move away from the window and to stand in the far corner of the room.

”What do you mean a plague bearer?” mouths Geblin in a hushed voice.

“I mean anything that carries the taint. It could be anything, could be a ghoul, a ghast or a blackling. Who knows.” Replies Mortloc.

“That’s impossible. This is the safest in the empire.” Laughs Geblin. “With the wards, the glyphs and the blessings to protect the city, no undead could ever step foot within.”

No sooner has Geblin’s pressed his back against the cold wall than an upstairs window shatters.

Both men look upwards into the dark stairwell.