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In the pounding rain, it was nearly impossible to see where you were going. Glancing down at the map, you thought you must be coming upon an inn rather soon. Walking along the worn, puddle-filled paths, you found yourself increasingly surrounded by larger, and older, buildings. This was the more established area of Stormpoint, housing anyone from the wealthiest lord, to the poorest beggar, to the wayward traveler. Some of the darker elements of the city lurked in the seedy taverns, but for the most part, the inns and homes were well maintained and patrolled by both the Watch and the Rangers. You chose the first inn you saw that seems well lit. The windblown sign read "Eventide Inn".

As you entered the inn, you began to wonder how this city's inhabitants would accept a newcomer like yourself. Your reception at the Dragon's Den was less than warm, and the worry you felt began to show on your tired face. The main area of the inn consisted of large tables in front of a fireplace, as well as a large bar and kitchen. Most of the people were renting rooms here, but some came for the familiar companionship of the barmaids and the easygoing nature of the innkeeper and his son. The innkeeper, also the proprietor, looked you over as you approached. Inquiring about the prices, he bragged to you that the Eventide had the best prices in the city for anything you required. You plunked down a few silvers and one of the friendly barmaids showed you to your room for the night. The room was spacious enough for temporary quarters. After setting down your worldly possessions and hanging your cloak to dry, you headed downstairs for a hot meal and a cool drink. The few faces you encountered all seemed friendly and welcoming, but you kept in mind that you were in a good neighborhood.

The innkeeper's son struck up a friendly conversation with you over your bowl of hearty stew while he cleaned mugs and wiped down the bar. He proudly told you a brief history of Stormpoint and, indicating the weather outside, said how appropriately the name fit. Still curious about the fear you felt in the people at the Dragon's Den, you inquired about the safety of Stormpoint's streets. The innkeeper's son paled noticeably at your question.

"Stormpoint's guards do an excellent job of patrolling the streets," he said matter-of-factly. He started to whisper to you about the strange things that went on at night, but one of the barmaids approached to take your empty plate and he abruptly stopped and refilled your glass. When she moved away, he whispered, "even with the Watch and the Rangers, there are some things they can't guard against."

Curious, but not daring to ask any further questions, you nodded briefly to a few of your fellow guests before retiring to your room.

~written by Dalia Sorentine's writer




She and her bondmate Tobi were unwillingly chosen to become Seekers, but they both have spirits far too wild for the structured life being a Seeker demands. Before becoming fully trained, Dalia and Tobi fled the Seekers. They still have the natural truthseeking abilities that all ghatti possess, but they prefer to seek adventure rather than truth. They roam the countryside in search of whatever adventure happens to come their way.

Copyright© Ellen Million "Portrait With Feathers"

Dalia wears calf high brown leather boots, forest green leggings, a travel-stained white tunic and a brown cloak. She carries a small broadsword strapped to her back and a dagger in each boot. Her orangy blond hair usually flows free to her shoulders. Her hazel eyes watch the orange tabby ghatta on the pommel platform in front of her. Tobi's blue eyes look back, always knowing exactly what her bondmate is thinking. "We don't wait for excitement, we make our own!" ((all characters and situations involved in "The Ghatti's Tale" and other related works are copyrighted to Gayle Greeno))

For those of you who don't know, a ghatta is a female member of the ghatti race. Ghatti are telepathic creatures distantly related to domesticated house cats. They have the ability to distinguish truth from lies, and are therefore a very honest race.

Copyright© 1994 Dick Danielsson

Many ghatti choose to bond with humans and become truthseeker bondpairs. Tobi wasn't one of those ghatti. She, like her ancestors, was wild. Her chance encounter with a very hungry fox when she was a small ghatten thrust her, literally, into the arms of Dalia Sorentine. They bonded, and though it was the rule that they should attend training courses, Dalia and Tobi fled into the country before completing their courses. Tobi now roams the world as Dalia's constant companion and closest friend, and she couldn't be happier.

She is known in many lands as a bard, a weaver of words. The tapestry of time unfolds delicately before her almond-shaped, emerald green eyes as she looks demurely around at her surroundings. The sun accentuates the tight locks of strawberry blond curls that hug her face and the base of her jaw-line. Tips of her ears escape from the curls, betraying her elven heritage.

Copyright© 1999 Natisha's Creations "Darvydia"

The only visible possessions she carries are a small bag, a lute and staff. Darvydia is 5'1" and the looseness of her garb veils her seemingly delicate frame. Clad in a red and green brocade cloak, green silk tunic, taupe leggings, and sandals, Darvydia moves with a casual air. Over the years, Darvydia has traveled many places and seen many things. Although she relishes the company of others, her life has been a solitary one. She has traveled to Stormpoint to gather tales in a city brimming with life and culture. There is no hurry to reach her destination. The real story is in getting there.

© Ruth Thompson. All rights reserved! Read the legal information.

Shiva Tristar Kenafin. The drowess was unlike the norm of her race. The only things that were comparable to those of her ancestry, were the silken snowy tresses and the opaque ebon skin. There is where the similarities stopped. Aquamarine eyes held a hint of curiousity and mischief. She had actually smiled a sincere smile.... once. The tattoo of a blue dragon left one to wonder even more of her history. A history left to the books, evidently, for her tongue held stiff when those questions arose. There is only one constant in the drowess' life, a faery dragon that is rarely seen far from her side. You can never miss the calico colored creature. She is usually settled upon Shiva's shoulders, with her tail wrapped tightly about the drow's upper arm.

A throbbing cacophony of shrill screeching emits from the plethora of lost souls, those that have already been indemnified...announcing her presence, as she steps into the milky lamplight overhead.. a lit cigarette is drawn from the pale lips as she peaks.."Raine. Or Angel.. or Cin. Hell, I don't have *a* name.." ..and a low chuckle, as the thickly shaded copper eyes raise up, a thin wisp of smoke slipping from her mouth and upwards past her slender, equally pale face.. the loose strands of wild, but kempt brown hair fall lightly about her shoulders, shoulders that have become strong with burden, but now hold only the black leather jacket hanging loosely over her off-white, snug shirt and regular jeans. And you think, she couldn't possibly be less then seventeen or eighteen, and yet, none of that matters now.. for her eyes show an eerily aged presence; because you see, Raine's come back. Back to right her wrongs; and sometimes to "right" those who've wronged her. Many a time has she been called a fallen angel, and perhaps.. she is.

"Sometimes.. your sins come back from the past. And oftentimes.. they're pissed."

Within the relative safety of your room, you review your hastily drawn map and decide that your first stop in the morning should be Stormpoint Castle.


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© 2000 Stormpoint Writers Guild

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