Adrian: Baldur's Gate

Two nights later, as the middle-night drew nigh and the moon was high, the Wailing Banshee glided almost silently into the Gate's port.

Sarevok had the city firmly in his fist. Silvershield had been assasinated, the Zhentarim and Shadow Thieves blamed. Eltan lay on a sickbed, helpless. Scar was dead, the Flaming Fist under the command of Sarevok's pawn, Angelo. The remaining two Dukes, Belt and Liia Jannath, were unwittingly working for Sarevok, and his election as a Grand Duke was mere days away.

Adrian didn't know exactly what Sarevok's plans were, but obviously he needed control of the Gate to achieve his aims.

But those in the know in the Gate were mobilized. The Harpers and Zhentarim had already formed a tentative alliance. And the Shadow Thieves, angered by Sarevok's involving them, had stepped forward.

"There is one Fist we can trust," said Adrian, "If she's still alive. Officer Jessa Vai."

"The redhead, yes," said Besheridan. "We're already in contact with her."

Vai, and the handful of Fist loyal to her, had formed an underground resistance, and scuttled from one Harper enclave to another through Zhentarim smuggling tunnels in the sewers. Shadow Thief Assasins aided them with plotting and strategy, their spies listening to Throne operations.

Something strange was happening at the Throne tower itself, though the Shadow Tieves were not sure what. But it was, clearly, the one place where things were not business as usual. The weakpoint. Adrian intended to go there.

As they disembarked, however, a shadow darker than night fell over Adrian. He raised his blade, and in it's glowing green light he could see someone his recognized.

His guts clenched. It was the woman who had followed Sarevok that night Gorion had been killed. A Kara-Turan of stealth and power.

Tamoko.