Flames, ever hungry, consume the wooden frames that support the stone houses that surround you. The roar of the flames fills the Barrens and are littered with the crashing of stones, goblins, and men. The city appears over run. The song of the dying fill the streets, cascading from windows above, their anguish fills your ears. A thankful child peers from a scorched doorway of a shattered house.
The crumbling siege machine sits quietly in a smoking ruin behind you. Bodies of its goblin operators scattered around it in odd positions as if they were marionettes with their strings suddenly snapped. The Thumb and Hammer with smoke pouring from her windows, barely muffling the screams. Someone is inside. Someone important.
The flames fill the streets with their apathetic light. Still, the darkness comes. The stones beneath your feet rush up to meet you as you collapse.
Thoughts of the silver hand, a purchased and liberated slave, a sleeping woman murdered and man stuck between forms fill your mind. Faith through commerce. The Underground. A dragon in chains. An old man with a deck of cards. An An Innocent slain? A hidden room filled with notes. A trial. Diane. The Palace. A city under siege.