Lying awake in the night brings stange dreams.  Sometimes I can recall the past deeds of others.  A curse it is, but also a key to discover the thing which will free my soul from torment.  A woman in White approaches and offers Eternal Rest. I can only lay in my sleeping roll and blink away tears as I see the Doom which rears up behind her.  She smiles and places a bouquet of Flowers near my head.  I only want to warn her of the dread which rushes towards her. She tosses her head in an ancient feminine gesture as the scaly arm pounds down on to her spine.  The scholar in me marvels at the dexerity involved in murder. The yard-long fist crushes her to the ground and the air reverberates with the chant "Meat, Meat, Meat, Meat!"
        I awake (finally) to the huckster in the Inn.  Replacing my sorrow with a cool distain, I shrug off his offers of quick inebriation with a visit to the facilities (such as they are).  Pocketing my gold and Vital essences I return to the common room. The stench here is Gray and ever-present.  It is the smell of humanity and I take comfort from it.  Weakling that I am.  I am quickly surrounded by an army of toads.  Rub their bellies and they'll sing you a song.  Rub too hard and they'll slit your belly open and sell your entrails to the butcher-man.  The chief ( I'll call him that for now), offers me his hospitality for the night.  I catch his wink the fourth time around and we come to an understanding.  He won't have me evisorrated and I won't burn down his Inn. He knows at a cellular level what I am, and I know at glance what he is.  His cousins and uncles and brothers and neices represent the first hurdle I've encountered since leaving civilzation.  He has the upper hand but I have a hand up my sleeve.  No native cheiftain will dare oppose the Sorceror, I tell myself, and luckily he hears as well.  We settle the tab, on "The House" as he puts it.  His accent is eastern, his eyes place him with the Bashar Clan.  I formulate a plan... I'm good at that, not much else.  I slip into the eastern phrasiology and squint my eyes alittle.  Delighted, he offers some more grog and we get down to business.  I realize now how dangerous this whole enterprise really is.  These people could kill me in a heart beat, but I blather on about my family and my House and my Training and my unswerving goal to obtain the Item.  Whatever that might be.  I call for tea, and ten different criminals hurry over themselves to bring it. "What has happened here?", I ask myself staring into the bloodshot eyes of my host.  He seems as eager to please as a puppy.  Perhaps its time for the rolled up newspaper. I stand and bow my head, as I was taught, and unleash the Power... time stops..... a mirror appears before me and I step through it, backward glowing a faint Gray.  The ale and the mutton are still a sickly green, well can't have everything!  @#$%^&  tho'&*(6^(  )_  alomor.. I say to him. Wow!  It worked!  The Realm is magiked!  I fight down the frightful surge of humours which threaten to overcome me.. and look at the trinkets he has brought.