Mellisande Malconte du Bois lounged on her 'throne', a low couch piled high with silk cushions, and cast a jaded gaze around her inner sanctum.  She was, for want of a better word, bored.  Oh, her new land of choice was interesting enough: jagged rocks, open volcanic vents, lots of lovely lava rock and obsidian around to keep those pesky heroes at bay.  And her new lair of evil was very nice, if a bit 'native' in decor--it had been cheap, too.  The vizier who had sold her the deed had been in a real hurry to offload the place.  But one of the problems with relocating to the wilderness was that there was so very little to do!<br/><br/>The tall, pale, dark-haired sorceress clapped her hands twice.  One of her new minions shuffled forth, bearing a silver mirror that, according to the notes the Vizier had given her, was enchanted.  Traditionally, she was supposed to preen herself while gazing fondly at her own reflection or something.  Instead she waved it aside and beckoned the thing closer.<br/><br/>"Yes, Mistress?"<br/><br/><strong>"What is there to do around here?  For entertainment, I mean."</strong><br/><br/>"Mistress?"<br/><br/><strong>"We're leagues and leagues from the nearest city, and while I do enjoy evil cackling and the like, I wish for diversions for those times when I'm not researching my dark powers.  What would you suggest?"</strong><br/><br/>The creature rubbed its chin thoughtfully for a moment.<br/><br/>"How about a bridal raid?"<br/><br/><strong>"Explain."</strong><br/><br/>"Our old master would send some of the lads sweeping down on caravans and small villages, killing everybody except the prettier girls, and then drag them back here to torment them for his own amusement.  That's why we've got a torture chamber downstairs and all.  Only problem is that it tends to draw heroes.  They always showed up right before the old man married the prettiest of the girls."<br/><br/><strong>"That shouldn't be a problem, then.  I don't intend to marry any of them.  So, what?  Do I just snap my fingers and command you to go fetch me nubile maidens to torment or something?"</strong><br/><br/>"That'll do."  The creature cleared its throat.  "By your leave, then."  It shuffled off again, bellowing out: "Okay, boys!  Boss lady wants a bridal raid!  Chop-chop!"<br/><br/>Mellisande watched the creature walk off.  For just a moment, a smile graces her ruby-red lips.  This might actually be<em>fun</em>!  Flowing languidly onto her exquisitely sculpted bare feet, she padded across the polished black marble floor.  Perhaps a tour of the torture chamber...no, better rename it something like the Chamber of Forbidden Pleasures...was called for.<br/><br/>****<br/><br/>It was a trading caravan that first found the wreckage of what had once been a prosperous little town in the hills.  The sight was doubly-disenheartening to the merchants: they had hoped to revictual here, and perhaps do a little trading.  Now, they'd be lucky to reach the next stop on their route without being attacked.  Still, out of simple decency, they did what they could for the fallen and observe what had happened so that they could report back to the Sultan's officers.<br/><br/>There had been no warning, no sign...no mercy.  At first glance, the raiders had simply overrun the village and slaughtered everyone, regardless of age or gender.  They'd slaughtered the livestock and torched the huts.  They left the gruesome reminders of their presence strewn about where they'd been hacked down.  Truly a sickening act of brutality.<br/><br/>Upon closer examination, the true horror of the raid became apparent--none of the dead were young women.  This had been a bridal raid!  But for whom?  Such a thing did not happen, these days!  But there were legends of a great and terrible dark tower in the Wildlands, where a cruel and evil dark lord ruled over creatures of the night...and who needed to steal his brides, since none would willingly have him as an in-law.  Those poor girls would need someone to save them, and quickly.<br/><br/>The Caravan Master looked at his assembled guard, then the merchants and their servants.  Finally, the stout old man cleared his throat.<br/><br/>"Any volunteers?"