"Damn you!" the Ravenwitch spat at their smoldering remains.

More gnolls were here earlier, she could tell by the amount of traffic that had passed through, but why? How had they slain her wereraven servant? They must have possessed some sort of magic. That disturbed her. The Ravenwitch would never have given the creatures such credit, but the truth of it lay obvious on the opposite bank.

The Ravenwitch cursed again and turned back toward her tree home. Yrrin would remain where he fell, for such was the way of the raven, and thus her way as well. The living always required more tending to than the dead, and this day two things burned within her: fear of the unknown and a need for vengeance.

Back inside the tree, the Ravenwitch sat swallowed in a large, padded, well-worn chair. Before her, a circular basin held clear water as unmoving as the iris of a huge eye. She wiped her brow and attempted to calm herself, preparing to cast her divinations. Ravens of various sizes flitted about the room, cawing softly-almost cooing. Dark eyes focused on the glassy water that reflected her round, smooth cheeks and ever-so-slightly pointed chin.

Finally ready, she held a tightly clenched fist aloft over the basin as she had many times in the past. The Ravenwitch slowly unclenched her hand, and black rose petals drifted down onto the water's surface where they bobbed and floated. More and more of the petals fell, until the basin was black with swirling, floating cusps of velvet. As she stared, the petals formed patterns on the water's surface. Patterns only she could perceive, revealing secrets only she could interpret, showed themselves as the divination that magic tore from the ether.

The Ravenwitch saw in the pattern a large form, domineering and powerful, rising from a place where it had long been imprisoned: a tanar'ri noble. Power such as it held was just the sort of power the Ravenwitch could understand, respect, and rightfully fear. This tanar'ri, she saw, would quickly gather power around it as it amassed strength. The being would threaten the entire area-the Thunder Peaks, the Dalelands, and perhaps even beyond, if given the chance. Already, she saw with vision beyond vision, the gnolls gathered instinctively to serve the tanar'ri. A tanar'ri named Chare'en.

She recognized him from old tales she'd read in the ancient tomes that filled the high shelves of her own library. The Ravenwitch felt that cold chill return to run down her spine once again. She shivered and tried to ignore it. The pool fluttered to life yet again. She watched the swirling patterns and peculiar symbols of the magic waters reveal the actions of others The Ravenwitch's inner vision conjured forth a number of different forces currently coming together Each of these forces, she saw, possessed different motives. Each was bent on helping to free the creature-some inadvertently, but some after years and years of careful, meticulous planning.

It was good to have a purpose. Vheod's footsteps no longer fell gingerly on the ground with the tentative-ness of an explorer, but instead his stride betrayed the resolute determination of a man with a mission.

The village he'd observed earlier lay on the outskirts of the forest. Two days previous, Vheod watched laborers work to clear more of the land. As the sun rose into the morning sky this day, those same workers returned to their tasks. Sounds of axes against wood and falling trees filled the rapidly warming air.

Vheod hoped that someone here could direct him in which way to go. He needed to find the two people shown to him who would free Chare'en. Were they servants of the balor? Somehow he doubted that. More likely, he thought, they would inadvertently loose the tanar'ri lord through some other action. Stopping them, then, would be as simple as finding them in time and warning them.

He had no idea where this place, Tilverton, might be. He was unsure even of its nature, though he assumed it must be a city or a fortress of some kind, since people obviously lived there.

In his previous visit, Vheod had slipped into the village after the descent of night. In the Abyss, he learned to approach others with either subtlety and guile or domineering aggression. The stealthy approach had served its purpose so far-now it was time for a change of pace.

Leaving the cover of the woods, Vheod entered the tiny settlement, walking amid the small buildings constructed of felled logs fitted crudely together. Smoke rose from a number of them, carrying with it good, wholesome smells that tugged at Vheod's nose, making him suddenly aware of his own hunger. Trying to ignore the feeling, he walked toward a central area from which all the other buildings seemed to radiate and the largest building in town stood. He never reached it.

A man dressed in rough, sturdy clothes stepped through an open doorway. As he walked he pulled thick leather work gloves onto his hands, despite the growing heat of the day. His face concealed with a thick beard, the man looked up at Vheod with surprise.

"Who in the name of Helm are you?" the man asked.

"Silence," Vheod said, attempting to sound as powerful and confident as he could, despite his smoky, scratched voice. "I am Vheod Runechild, and I must know where the place called Tilverton lies."

The man backed slowly into the open doorway. "Feshik! Get out here," he yelled, still staring at Vheod.

"And bring my sword," he added over his shoulder.

Vheod was confused. He looked around, even behind him, but saw nothing. By the time he returned his gaze to the man, a young boy had appeared in the doorway, attempting to peer around the large man. The child's black hair was tousled, and his eyes opened almost as wide as his mouth as he stared at Vheod.

"Who is that, Papa?" the child asked. "I said to bring my sword!" the man replied, pushing the child backward into the house with a wide, gloved hand.

"You don't need your sword," Vheod said, extending an empty hand in the man's direction. "I have need of knowledge. Aid me and no one will be harmed." "What you'll get is a taste of steel, demon." Demon? Was it so obvious? "As I said, there's no need for that."

"What's going on here, Tallin?" a voice came from behind Vheod, causing him to whirl in surprise, his hand instinctively going for his sword hilt-an action he immediately regretted. He just was not accustomed to this sort of peaceful approach. His instincts were too versed in danger.

Behind him stood another man, larger but older than the first. His yellow hair receded from his forehead, and his face was clean shaven. He hefted a wood axe at the ready as Vheod turned. The cambion pulled his hand away from his hilt, holding his hands open and high in front of him.

"I don't want to have to hurt you," he said. "Who is he, Tallin?" The axeman asked. His eyes narrowed as he examined Vheod.

"I figure he's a servant of the Spider Lord," the man in the door replied.

Vheod looked behind him now to see the child bring a broadsword to the man. The boy lifted the heavy sword with both hands, handing it to the man carefully. The child's wide eyes remained focused on Vheod.

"Get back inside now, Feshik," Tallin told him. The boy complied, eyes still wide with fear.

"Looks a little like a dark elf to me," the man with the axe stated.

Dark elf? A drow? Servant of Lolth? Vheod knew of the drow and their Abyssal mistress, the spider queen Lolth.

"I assure you, I'm no drow," he told them, hands still help open in front of him. "And I'm no one's servant.".,.

“Fallach! Chorrad!" the older man cried out in the direction of the woods. "Get over here, we've got a… we've got something.".