<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/BhovTQq.png)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>The Eye of Undoing</strong></span><hr/><br/><div align="center"><em>Towering over the city of Ailderhon, the Sapphire Tower of the Gehnovan Mage's Guild casts a long shadow over the Grand Forum. The tall marble structure gleams in the late afternoon sun, its cerulean blue banners wave in the sea breeze. Near the top, on the highest balcony of the great spire, the stone figure of the Guild's founder stands in silent watch far above the teeming streets below. Unknown to the city, and even unknown to the great and powerful who reside within the tower's walls, a prophecy spoken of long ago, spoken by the same founder who stands immortalized in stone, begins to take shape, mortal players moving across the chessboard of fate. On the streets below, events begin to unfold, events which will guide even the lowliest of pawns through a great and unknown adventure, one which will shape the fates kings, queens, and gods alike.</em></div><br/><hr/><br/>The high stone walls of the Mage's Guild coutyard rise up ahead of you, shading you from the heat of the midsummer afternoon. A gentle wind blows against your back, kicked up off the bay, bringing the pleasant smell of the street vendors peddling their wares to your nose. You wait to gain entry to the Sapphire Tower, where you have heard the High Archivist is seeking outside assistance- assistance which, so it goes, pays extremely well. As you wait in queue for the guards to finish inspecting a large caravan of wagons bearing the emblem of Omben, you catch sight of Sera loitering across the plaza, her arms crossed and a scowl on her lips. She catches you looking at her and turns away aloofly, focusing instead on a street vendor nearby peddling small pies. Since coming to Ailderhon, despite the differences between the two of you, she's remained close by, and her sudden disinterest in visiting the Mage's Guild to meet your potential employer has been clearly vocalized.<br/><br/>The queue ahead of you moves slightly, only three wagons remaining to be checked by the guards, and only minutes until you're within the walls, on your way to a meeting with a potential new employer; however, any thoughts of the future are interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing behind you. A grinning halfling in shabby clothes, tailored to give the mocking impression of elegance, bows to you.<br/><br/>"Well, 'ullo miss," he begins, his voice as cheery as his grin. "Ya got buzzy business with the fussy fidgets in the Guild, eh?"