<div class="floatleft">(http://img223.imageshack.us/img223/9462/nishkaside.jpg)</div>Nishka had been in Darkon the previous night as well. She had been playing at a small tavern, in an even smaller--by Darkon standards--village on the borders of the great land. She had caught a certain wanderlust, and she was determined to explore along the fringes of where she had already been. With the familiar nearby, she hoped to gradually expand her travels to include new and interesting places.<br/><br/>The folk of the tavern had been good to her, and in return for her songs and stories, she had been well fed and had been plied with plenty of gentle drink. Her stomach still burned with red wine as the young gentleman led her away from the tavern's dimming lights. The one thing the tavern did not offer was rooms, and Nishka's new friend had promised her lodging. She was certain that he was trying to bed her, but she had yet to decide what to do about that particular...obstacle.<br/><br/>The mists! She should have seen them rolling in and should have fathomed their meaning. Even though most nights in Darkon were filled with the clingy and damp vapors, Nishka knew to give them both respect and distance. Like a silly girl, she wandered with her admirer through the village streets, until they were fully consumed by the dense fog.<br/><br/><strong>"Henry,"</strong>she murmured.<strong>"We should...get to your home. Fast,"</strong>she warned, her tone conveying deep concern.<br/><br/>He chuckled. "You're not afraid of...Aaaahhh!" His scream tore through his previous thought. Nishka couldn't see far in the fog, but the crimson lines that opened the half-elf's belly to the world were easy to recognize. His insides began to spill out, and Nishka screamed in horror as she tried to pry his hand off of hers.<br/><br/>"Please, don't leave...me...like," and then his words were cut short by a disgusting crunch as something furred and beastly bit down on his shoulder from behind. It didn't seem to notice or care about Nishka at first, but she knew better than to stay for desert.<br/><br/>Her face contorted into a grimace of pain.<strong>"Sorry, Henry,"</strong>she murmured, before she turned and bolted into the thick fog. The supernatural white would have been enough to make her heart race, but her fear of the beast who now ate her one-time friend was worse. She ran and ran through the mists, the ground growing damp and earthy beneath her feet. At times Nishka could almost feel something chasing her, but the monster never caught up with her if it was indeed hunting the girl.<br/><br/>After some time, she found a road, and as the vapors began to dissipate under the start of a new day, she found that there were new horrors to face. The city of Zeidenberg had seemed familiar from the start, but it had been so long since she had seen it...through much younger eyes. She had thought that maybe it was some place in Darkon she had only visited once...perhaps under the effects of too much alcohol. But slowly the place came back to her, and she understood that the mists had brought her home.<br/><br/><strong>"Barovia,"</strong>she whispered.<strong>"No, you stupid, stupid girl!"</strong>she chided herself angrily.<strong>"How could you let this happen."</strong>Her head shook with resignation. This was a bad, bad day, and she knew that the night to come would only be worse. For some reason the nights were always so much worse. The monster that had attacked and killed Henry scared her; but this place, her home...it filled her with dread and terror.<br/><br/>She approached the city slowly, not wanting to travel towards it, but not willing to stay in the wilds outside either. Then Nishka spotted the gypsies, and her heart lightened a tiny bit. She had always felt a bonding to them, and at times she had wished that she had been born one of the Vistani; they seemed almost immune to the dark things of this forsaken land. While she would never be welcomed as one of their own, she also appreciated something else they could offer her: guidance.<br/><br/>She altered her course to meet them, instead of the city's gate. On approaching their camp, she mustered a smile, and introduced herself with a bow.<strong>"Greetings, fellow travelers. I am Nishka, a storyteller and artist like many of yourselves. I humbly request to enter your camp. I have some coin to spare, for the pleasure of your company and a bit of your drink."</strong><br/><br/>She tried not to look desperate, but she could feel a single tear rolling down her cheek in protest.<strong>"The sun,"</strong>she murmured, wiping it away.<strong>"It hurts my eyes,"</strong>she added.