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The night filled every crack and crevice of the alley. The only light was from the pale moon, shinning overhead. The warehouses cast deep shadows, hiding Ral from prying eyes.
The warehouse district was right on the lake, built on huge platforms jutting out into the water. The city stretched out behind the lake, surrounded by the marshlands. It seemed to glow softly from the many inns and taverns with their doors and windows open to let in the cool night breeze.
Ral almost regretted bringing the heavy, black cloak he wore. The night was to hot for it. He absent-mindedly checked up his sleeves and in his coat for his knives. He also held a slim, oak staff. He had decided to leave his sword at the inn, so as not to attract attention. Only the rich and noble wore swords in Terab.
Footsteps broke the silence and interupted his thoughts. He crouched back into the alley, pulling the cloak around him. He seemed to meld with the shadows, becoming almost invisible.
A man walked by, glancing around nervously, searching for followers. Ral waited a moment then quietly slipped out of the alley and followed, staying in the shadows. A thin membrane of cloud covered had covered the moon, making it even darker. The man finally stopped at a warehouse and knocked several times in rapid succession. The door opened and, with a final glance, he walked in. Ral stepped from the shadows and walked over to the building. It was the same one he had tracked several others to. He tried the door but it was locked. He walked around the corner, searching for a way in. He looked up and saw a window. He quickly stacked several discarded crates and barrels and climbed to the window. He easily opened the shutters by slipping a knife in the crack and lifting the latch. Grabbing onto the ledge, he pulled himself through. He dropped onto a narrow wooden walkway right below him. He could see light coming from one side below him. He crouched and moved along the walkway, following the light.
Out of the silence below a lone voice raised a haunting chant. Several other voices joined, the sound echoing off the walls. Several stacks of crates blocked Ral as he crept along the walkway, trying to see what was happening. He came to a narrow gap and looked down. The dim light emanated from a few glowing torches on the wall. There were several figures in dark robes with the hoods pulled forward standing in a semi-circle. The chanting ended and one man stepped forward, turning to face the group. He pulled something from inside his robe and raised it above his head. His commanding voice reverberated through the building as he spoke in a harsh, unfamiliar language. He held a huge, red jewel which reflected in the dim light casting erie, flicking shadows on the walls. The jewel started to glow brightly as he spoke. As he finished the last word the group suddenly let out piercing screams of agony. The light slowly faded with the echoes of the screams.
All was still until one figure finally reached up and pulled back the hood. Ral gasped in shock from what he saw. Only the smallest traces of humanity were left on the man's face. He had the face of a bear with the muzzle of a wolf. Long, curling horns came out of his head. He raised his hands to his face and Ral could see they were now covered in thick hair. The thing tried to walk and it's boots fell off revealing hooves. Other hoods fell back showing that the same horror had taken place in each person.
Ral went to move, trying to get back to the window, when a rotten section groaned and with a loud crack gave way und him. He hit the floor hard and rolled. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He looked up, trying to catch his breath, and saw the beasts rushing him. Knives appeared in his hands and were gone just as quickly. Blood blossemed in eyes and throats where the knives landed and three of the beasts stumbled, crashing to the floor. The rest had pulled swords and clubs from somewhere and were on him. He spun his staff into a blur, trying to knock aside blows. He cracked an arm as he dodged a stab and hit the thing in the temple. It went down in a heap. Fire lit up his side as a slash got through his defense. He spun, hitting anywhere he could, knowing he was about to die. A club glanced off his shoulder, instantly numbing his arm and sending the staff out of his hands. Instinctively a knife appeared in his good hand and he slashed. Suprise lit up all to human eyes as the knife bit deep into the throat of his enemy. It went down, gurgling for breath. Then it was over. The figures lay around him, some still breathing, some not. He almost collaspsed from the strain and loss of blood. His side was burning and he could feel the warm, sticky blood running freely down his face and side. The strange wizard had gotten away during the fight.
Ral picked up his staff and quickly retrieved two of his knives. As he bent to get the third, the body began to dissipate, turning into mist right in front of him. Ral turned and fled, not looking back once.