Story

Gah, a meeting spot? more people? you're overtaxing my creative skills here!

I might get some sleep and see how it's progressed in a few hours. :laugh4:

A veil of fog and smoke concealed the street ahead and the pale green light of the street lamps reflected off the cobblestones underfoot. The small, rural village slept lazily under the dark shroud of night, paying no heed to the uncouth farmers stumbling back home from a hard night of drinking at the local tavern. Cackling voices could be heard faintly overhead, as witches flew around in their giro copters, stealing dwarves from unsuspecting townsfolk. The farmers contemplated these apparitions and suspected that they may have had just a few too many real ales. No one paid heed to the hay laden cart making its way through the street toward the city. The driver's heavy purse clouded the vision of the soldiers standing guard at the gate, so that they did not see scoundrel hiding amidst the hay. Darren knew that he would need to exit the cart without being seen before it arrived at the stables outside the Klypsky Mansion. He slipped ghost like from the hay as the driver conveniently paused beside dark alleyway to examine his wheels. As the driver continued on to deliver the hay to the stables, Darren cautiously darted from shadow to shadow through the streets, making his way to the meeting spot. Once there he looked around nervously, would the person he had come all this way to meet actually turn up in time?

A veil of fog and smoke concealed the street ahead and the pale green light of the street lamps reflected off the cobblestones underfoot. The small, rural village slept lazily under the dark shroud of night, paying no heed to the uncouth farmers stumbling back home from a hard night of drinking at the local tavern. Cackling voices could be heard faintly overhead, as witches flew around in their giro copters, stealing dwarves from unsuspecting townsfolk. The farmers contemplated these apparitions and suspected that they may have had just a few too many real ales. No one paid heed to the hay laden cart making its way through the street toward the city. The driver's heavy purse clouded the vision of the soldiers standing guard at the gate, so that they did not see scoundrel hiding amidst the hay. Darren knew that he would need to exit the cart without being seen before it arrived at the stables outside the Klypsky Mansion. He slipped ghost like from the hay as the driver conveniently paused beside dark alleyway to examine his wheels. As the driver continued on to deliver the hay to the stables, Darren cautiously darted from shadow to shadow through the streets, making his way to the meeting spot. Once there he looked around nervously, would the person he had come all this way to meet actually turn up in time? Suddenly, Darren was startled by a whistling noise.

A veil of fog and smoke concealed the street ahead and the pale green light of the street lamps reflected off the cobblestones underfoot. The small, rural village slept lazily under the dark shroud of night, paying no heed to the uncouth farmers stumbling back home from a hard night of drinking at the local tavern. Cackling voices could be heard faintly overhead, as witches flew around in their giro copters, stealing dwarves from unsuspecting townsfolk. The farmers contemplated these apparitions and suspected that they may have had just a few too many real ales. No one paid heed to the hay laden cart making its way through the street toward the city. The driver's heavy purse clouded the vision of the soldiers standing guard at the gate, so that they did not see scoundrel hiding amidst the hay. Darren knew that he would need to exit the cart without being seen before it arrived at the stables outside the Klypsky Mansion. He slipped ghost like from the hay as the driver conveniently paused beside dark alleyway to examine his wheels. As the driver continued on to deliver the hay to the stables, Darren cautiously darted from shadow to shadow through the streets, making his way to the meeting spot. Once there he looked around nervously, would the person he had come all this way to meet actually turn up in time? Suddenly, Darren was startled by a whistling noise. It seemed to be coming from the general vicinity of the fountain with the ornate statue.

A veil of fog and smoke concealed the street ahead and the pale green light of the street lamps reflected off the cobblestones underfoot. The small, rural village slept lazily under the dark shroud of night, paying no heed to the uncouth farmers stumbling back home from a hard night of drinking at the local tavern. Cackling voices could be heard faintly overhead, as witches flew around in their giro copters, stealing dwarves from unsuspecting townsfolk. The farmers contemplated these apparitions and suspected that they may have had just a few too many real ales. No one paid heed to the hay laden cart making its way through the street toward the city. The driver's heavy purse clouded the vision of the soldiers standing guard at the gate, so that they did not see scoundrel hiding amidst the hay. Darren knew that he would need to exit the cart without being seen before it arrived at the stables outside the Klypsky Mansion. He slipped ghost like from the hay as the driver conveniently paused beside dark alleyway to examine his wheels. As the driver continued on to deliver the hay to the stables, Darren cautiously darted from shadow to shadow through the streets, making his way to the meeting spot. Once there he looked around nervously, would the person he had come all this way to meet actually turn up in time? Suddenly, Darren was startled by a whistling noise. It seemed to be coming from the general vicinity of the fountain with the ornate statue. Then the statue began to move!