In the mountains, there is a city.
Not many know of this city, and of those that do, most avoid it.
The winding streets and alleyways are covered with filth, and you can either protect yourself, or you are dead.
The city of Satia. The City Of All Things Unholy.
A figure crept down the dark streets. He was tired from his long journey. He could not rest yet.
From underneath his down turned bucket hat his eyes searched the shaded and rundown buildings carefully. It paid to be careful.
He passed a sneering whore, but he had no time for such things. Maybe later.
Eventually he came to a door, much like any other door, unless you knew what you were looking for. Etched over the rusted hinges was a tiny inverted 'Y'.
Once inside, he lifted his hat and shoved it in his grey jacket pocket. He shook out his messy hair and sighed.
"I trust you are well, Mr Forsonn."
Ryn Forsonn made sure the door was locked and turned to the figure sitting by the fire.
"I am sorry sir, but the Idiot fail-" The figure cut Ryn off.
"I know. Why did you not finish her? or are you too weak?"
Ryn looked away. "Sir, you know I cannot. Not until I have recovered from the magic. You know that!"
"Serves you right for going too close to those stinking elves! Though I trust you saw to the idiot?"
"Yessir. The girl had fled. But at least she cannot return. Her home is in ashes."
"Good. Rest here in the city. Then once you can stand to be within striking distance, Kill her."
