Thoughts of the nights strange and invigorating events swirled in Tarl’s mind as he settled in to the bed of his basement room. Having his purse stolen by a beautiful, moon elven rogue had led to his meeting the young ranger Aeron Dardragon, whose home and family had been taken from him in an act of wanton violence. Then their wandering of the backstreets in search of a tavern had brought them into contact with Faeryl T’Sarran, a priestess of Eilistraee, the goddess of good-hearted drow; a thing he could hardly believe existed. She had been drawn to the city on a ritual quest by a vision, and believed that some greater destiny called her. Finally a young wizard, a student at the Lady’s College, Galen Ardae, had happened upon them and guided them here to the Bright Blade Brandished. Could all these meetings be simple chance, or was there some higher power, fate or destiny at work tonight? Such thoughts were too much for his stout soaked brain! He was a simple dwarf; a warrior who had missed the greatest battle of his day, the liberation of Mithral Hall from the evil shadow dragon Shimmergloom and its minions, and had left home against his father’s wishes in hope of proving his mettle against some great evil. Could these strangers be the key to that? Could this destiny Faeryl believed her goddess had led her here to find be the chance to prove his worth that he had come in search of? “Ahhhhh!” he groaned as he held his head in his hands. He had drained too many tankards tonight to wrestle with such thoughts… Not that he was a deep thinker when sober! If the gods, fate or destiny had a role for him to play, it would still be there in the morning. Wracking his brain to make sense of these strange events wasn’t likely to gain him anything more then to increase the pounding of the war hammers already at work inside his skull! Morning would tell the tale… if there was one to tell at all. Resigned to that, he sighed contently as his weary eyes closed and he welcomed the blissful relief of sleep. A wide smile split his bearded face as images of the gorgeous drow Faeryl and her sister priestess of Eilistraee dancing and frolicking naked around a bon fire, a religious rite she had described earlier that night, filled his dreams.