The Brume is rather quiet for once. Cold, no doubt, but peaceful. Lady Halone will receive no new souls this day.

“Look what the rats brought out of the cracks in the walls. To what do I owe the pleasure this fine eve, Little Leech?”

Or that'd be the case had there not come the long whistle of one very derisive Inquisitor. A fire-manic one at that... He sneers something awful at the other.

Looks like it's going to be a long night.