Midnight Snax?

"No, Fred." said Skye, an aging, supernaturally strong, talking hawk Fred had befriended some years before. "Are you imagining things again?"

"No, I'm sure I heard something." Fred said, hurriedly climbing out of bed and grabbing his Geoblade, a standard issue weapon for mercenary Geohounds like Fred. Geohounds usually got a bad rep - that they never bathed, ate monster meat, etc. Fred was suprised the Church of Granas had hired him for this job - but then, gold spoke for itself.

"I've gotta go check." Fred said. "If anything happens to this Tarsa chick, it's my rep on the line."

"I suspect you have other reasons than just protecting your 'rep'." Skye said patronizingly.

"Oh, shut up." Fred shot back as he burst into the hall, dressed only in his Geopants. Immediately half his fears were confirmed - Tarsa's door was wide open. Either she had picked a bad time to go pray at the statue of Granas - or something evil was afoot.

He raced into Tarsa's room and witnessed a disturbing sight:

1. Tarsa was floating in the air, surrounded by a cloud of darkness and growing huge black wings on her back. "No... you cannot..." she was screaming at someone.
2. A black-cloaked man was dragging a comatose Tarsa through a window, where a giant saddled bird waited. "Later, chump!" he taunted an infuriated Fred.
3. Tarsa was sitting in her bed, moving her lips but making no sound. Someone must have silenced her! Fred breathed a sigh of relief.

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