The Dominion's Bane

Chapter One: A Goblet Of Wine

General Ma'dran sipped a goblet of cool wine, wondering if he should approach the pretty Nord serving girl across from him. The girl smiled at him and he smiled back. Ma'dran set the glass down onto a stand next to his chair and started towards the girl. Her face shifted just barely into anxiety and she turned away from him, moving back towards the kitchen with a half-empty tray carrying wine tankards still in hand. Ma'dran frowned, wondering what he had done wrong. Had he spilled something on himself? He signaled for more drink, but the girl kept walking. The only indication that she had seen was a slight movement of her head in his direction. He noticed that her ears seemed strangely pointed. But then the point on the ears were gone, quicker then it had come. It had been a trick of the light, nothing more. Ma'dran eased himself back into his chair, slightly annoyed that the girl had ignored him. But there was no time to ponder it, because just then he felt a sudden chill crawling slowly up his body and into his heart. His hair shot out as if in contact with electricity and a hiss escaped him. With a sudden shock it reached his brain and he was struck with the bizarre urge to rest. Yes, yes, he would sleep on the now very comfortable looking floor. The dagger held in the serving "girls" hand brought him back to his wits. He shook off the strange sickness that had overcome him. His regiment needed to be alerted. Ma'dran stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair. He grabbed a brass plate from the table adjacent and fastened it to his arm with a belt strap. The previously alert soldiers in the hall were comfortably nestled on the benches where they had been sitting. Doubtlessly, they had been poisoned as well. He raised his makeshift shield and attempted to make a break for the door. With blinding speed, a dagger buried itself in the center of the plate. It was ripped from his hands and now lay shattered on the floor. Ma'dran's attacker betrayed no sign of emotion as he pulled another dagger. Reacting quickly, Ma'dran plowed into a table and shoved it into the assassin, ramping from a chair into the passage ways leading away from the hall. He hit the ground running and raced for the planning room, a private place where his men would likely be. His feet pounded against the stone floor, the sound echoing throughout the empty hall. Then the icy sickness came back stronger than ever, and he crumpled onto the floor headfirst, mid-stride. The last thing Ma'dran heard before losing consciousness was the clanking of armor...