Clans
Grayson sat alone in his office, reviewing the documents that had been
left on his desk. He perused them slowly, sipping blood wine from a
large goblet. The growth of the fledgling clans was proceeding well, and
Grayson was pleased with their development. The new clans were very
active, trying to increase their memberships as rapidly as possible.
Thus far, however, none of them had noticed the unseen force in their
midst. Everything was proceeding as he had forseen it. Standing,
Grayson drained his glass and set it down on the edge of his desk,
humming the opening bars of a plaintive melody. Snapping his fingers
for dramatic effect, he opened a gateway to another place, another time.
He stepped through the gate into a darkened room, hidden deep underground.
The sole occupant of the room rose swiftly, a throwing blade in hand poised
to launch. Abruptly, recognition registered on her face. Tucking the knife
back into her sleeve, she opened her arms. "Gray! What brings you?"
She asked. "My lady..." he replied, formally, disengaging himself from
her embrace and shaking her hand, instead. "I think we should review
those plans once more, just to be sure..."