His mind wandered as wagon wheels creaked along the dirt road. Glossy and out of focus, the Raiaeran countryside twisted into an amalgamation of dreams and thoughts. Beautiful women danced in rhythmic circles around the wagon interior as he took a deeper drag of his pipe and shut both eyes. "Strong herb you have there," an older man remarked as Tobias relaxed. "Medicinal stuff?" he asked curiously.

"You could say so," Tobias drawled. In reality, the ill-gotten herb passed to him from a black marketeer around Beinost. It mattered little where it originated. Instead of foul memories of Salvar and degenerate slaughter, his nights were filled with carnal ecstasy and voluptuous bosoms. It made for better medicine than the salves of a Raiaeran Druid. He opened an eye to regard the salt-and-pepper haired fellow, and he snorted a plume of white smoke from his nostrils.

The other man chuckled. "Secret's safe with me," his newfound friend whispered conspiratorially across the distance between them. "So," he began. "What brings you to this forgotten edge of the beautiful city?"

"Work," Tobias answered. "More specifically, the prospect of work. Rare is the time I actually find gainful employment." Mercenaries of the day found most of their contracts near Alerar and toward the fringes of the Plaguelands, places where combat was prominent. Treasure hunters like Tobias however, sought their fortune in high mountains and deep caves, and on occasion in the coffers of abandoned mansions.

Amon Lungan was something of a legend to the local populace. Different stories surrounded the happenings there, and the newfound property that stood just north of it roused even more interest. The rising popularity drew his attention, mostly because he wanted first pick of any loot to be found in its balls.

Few people were brave enough to enter houses left alone for an age, and more still believed in the folktales about ghosts and devils. Tobias learned long ago that such powers were real, and the talk of dangers was all too true. The real problem lay in preparation, and in the approach.

Where he sat now among the hay bales of a farmer bound for Amon Lungan gave him perspective. He broke free of the drug illusion and glanced northward to where the untouched estate stared down at him. Tobias tapped the ruined herb out of his pipe and sighed deeply. "Looks like I won't be the first one to arrive," he remarked blandly.

"Oh no," the farmer laughed, "folks have been showing up for months. Word is, some damn fool ran out screaming about the crunching of bones some weeks back, and he hasn't shut up about it since." Tobias glanced over, vaguely interested.

"The crunching of bones?" he asked.

"Aye," the farmer reiterated. "Was all he could say. Like every other word in every other language was ripped out of him, and he was struck dumb."

"Curious," Tobias murmured to himself.

"This is as close as I can get you," the farmer told him as he brought the wagon to a halt. "The mansion is just up this hill, and only a short walk. If you plan on coming back before nightfall, I can wait for you?"

Tobias shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary." The man adjusted his cloak and hopped out of the hay. "It might be that I have to stay through the night to find what I'm looking for. I'd rather not put any extra burden on you. Thank you for the ride."

"Of course," the farmer smiled. "Safe travels, my friend."

Tobias nodded. "And to you," he said as he headed up the hill. Then came the thunder.