• Daligarth's Deception

In a room that was dimly lit, a glow of amber illuminated what little it could, casting shadows that wavered from the single brass lamp hanging overhead. The light fluttered faintly, cutting through the thick air, laden with the bitter scent of magic refuse and the unmistakable tinge of something otherworldly.

The odor was sharp and it hung heavy. One could tell that mad things happened in this place just by that odor alone, it was like old experiments gone wrong, potent and daunting. Every breath seemed to taste of arcane energy, thick with tangible unease.

A figure was bent over the prone form on the operating table. Unmistakably, this was Lord Daligarth. He was wearing a peculiar monocle that was glinting in the lamp's low light, had another source of light — a small headlamp — affixed to his forehead, and he was focusing a narrow beam of the illumination onto the subject before him.

Impossibly, the subject — a figure lying there... was Spheris.