The brisk fall air whistled through the leaves of the oak trees flanking the road, a cobbled boulevard lined on all sides by forms of nature. People strolled down the way, chatting cordially, voices mingling into a quiet murmur of conversation as they passed Jacques. He half-listened as he made his way down the road, thinking of how best to prepare for the busy weeks to come as travelers made their way to Corone for the winter.

“I heard tell of this new religion coming into the city…” A woman said, in hushed tones. She glanced around furtively, as if assuring that no prying ears were about. “They want to summon some sort of demon.” She continued, shuddering.

Jacques’ ears perked at this, the information distracting his mind from the business matters he’d been contemplating. He’d heard rumors from some of his regular patrons, of this new Church of Crimson, as they seemed to be calling themselves. He smiled. A new tidbit of information to add to his discussions with the customers. Maybe he could milk a bit more info out of some more informed sources. He continued his walk, mulling the topic over. What were they coming into Radasanth for? What was this talk of demons that he heard? He shook his head. He’d have to keep his ears and eyes open, ready to jump on any trails he found in conversation and action.


Jacques quickly returned to the Tankard, prepping it for opening that night. Magic propelled chairs to tables with absent flicks of arcane power. The scent of ozone filled the building, as if a heavy storm had just finished. Flashes of violet and white energy glowed around the tables as Jacques placed them back into position. He sighed as the last table slid into place under the force of his guidance. He reveled in the pungent smell of his sorcery, clean and sharp. He stepped behind the bar and ran his hands along the stock.

“Tapping kegs, check. Liquor, check. Clean tankards, flagons, glasses, and such. Check.” A series of nods followed each note. He was pretty much ready. There were hours to opening yet, but he wanted to read through some of the local papers first and investigate the new ‘church’ that had sprung up. He picked up the first of the issues from the stack he’d collected from the local paperboys that morning. Perusing the various editorials and columns that each spoke of some new phenomena or attraction to visit, Jacques searched for mentions of a church or cult.

If only he could meet such a member. If only.