<strong>Prologue</strong><br/><br/>There is only one known road in and out of Urgasburg. It begins in the town of Lunescross at the foot of the mountains and snakes its way up through a dark forest until it finally emerges at the gates of Urgathoa's city. Except for the crossroads, there is little reason to visit Lunescross, and even then traffic is sparse. The stagecoach owned by eccentric old man Pachski runs the half-day journey up to the city, leaving before dawn and arriving a few hours before the dreaded moonrise.<br/><br/>So it was quite a rare occurrence that six travelers found themselves requiring the service of Pachski's stagecoach all on the same day. Already a logistical problem presented itself: the stagecoach was meant to seat only four, and one more passenger could conceivably squeeze next to Pachski on the driver's seat outside, but the sixth would need to get... creative.<br/><br/>The arrival of four had been foretold, read in the entrails of sacrificial offerings made to Urgathoa. The swashbuckling adventuress, her past shrouded in tragedy. The arcanist expelled from the Jasper Spire, seeking a new home in the Clockwork Tower. The inquisitor of Sarenrae, dispatched to test the Order of the Silver Dawn. The dark paladin, walking a dangerous path.<br/><br/>Four too many wildcards for the authorities' comfort, and so they had dispatched two of their own, representatives of the Silver Truce, to meet the four in Lunescross and keep an eye or two on them. A Silver Truce enforcer in the undead flesh, the mask the only identity in the service of the Goddess. And a tiefling associate, to represent the living.<br/><br/>And so the six met...