The steady drip of water falling in to the sewer felt soothing to the scholar who sat hunched against the tunnel wall scribbling on parchment. Drip, drip; the water fell like grains of sand passing through the center of an hourglass. Hour after hour of walking through the partially flooded tunnels failed to reveal any new chambers or passages and the small scholar came to the realization that he was inside some kind of maze. Only the steady drip of water provided any means of experiencing the passage of time. The scholar had ceased to be offended by the smell of his surroundings long ago, now all his concentration was focused on capturing the designs that so long haunted his dreams.

The knight stood defiantly in the street, steadfast against the dark apparition that was coming straight towards him. His blood sang with courage and his mind was filled with visions of glory. So light were his thoughts that he felt that he could take flight at any moment to join one of the shining heavenly hosts. He raised the potion of invulnerability to his lips and hoped that his blurry vision would clear up swiftly. But his limbs refused to obey him and his potion fell to the ground, its contents spilled amongst the shards of glass. A sense of déjà vu overcame the bubber as mind unwillingly sobered up. Gone were the dreams of past glory, swept away by the menace of the approaching figure. The former knight slumped down between the piles of refuse in the alley and for the first time in years his heart ached for another. When the figure had passed the former knight uttered a prayer: "Please Lord, let me never again see another fallen servant."

The tenement in this part of the Hive should have collapsed long ago, but the Dabus made repairs to it recently. Graffiti covered most of the outer walls including anarchist slogans and rants. However, one word had painted over them all recently. That word had begun to appear in various places around the Cage. In all the wards except for the Hive, that word was quickly painted over or covered up. But here amongst the desperate and poor, the word stood out like a beacon of hope and promise. LEGEND.

The spy sat like a clueless sod staring at the newcomers who had just entered the tavern. At first he had thought that more Hezrou had come to join others of their race. But the tattoos on the foreheads of the new comers and the differing colors of their skins revealed them to be Slaadi. A loud click nearby caught the spy's attention and he realized that he had just closed his gawking bone-box. It took several minutes to calm his nerves and exert his will in order to prevent him from running out of the tavern. But the spy prided himself on his discipline and cool. Sitting in a tavern with a group of Hezrou as well as a group of red, green and blue Slaadi was a challenge that the spy felt that he could manage for a few hours more. Amazingly his desire to cough had gone away.

The librarian raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw the woman enter the room. Despite the fact that he had worked with this scribe on numerous projects, she never ceased to amaze him. It was just a shame that she happened to be a tiefling. Shrugging aside these thoughts, the librarian instructed the woman on how to go about cataloguing the various scrolls and maps. As always she listened in silence and nodded once when he had finished speaking. The librarian caught himself staring in to her eyes, wondering at whether she ever smiled. He dismissed her abruptly, annoyed with himself for letting these thoughts intrude again on his mind. The librarian was so caught up with his own world that he failed to notice that the tiefling woman pocket a scroll labeled 'Elysium, Blessed Fields'.

Psioce felt as if each step that he took would be his last. The bleeding had stopped awhile ago and his limbs all felt numb. The harmonium officer could not remember if that was a good sign or not, but he kept all of his concentration focused on putting one foot down in front of the other. It seemed as if an eternity had passed when he finally looked up and saw the small iron gate leading to the park. The street appeared as if it was deserted, but the veteran officer could feel the eyes of a watcher burning in to his back. Psioce stumbled in to the abandoned park and collapsed to the ground next to the fountain. Looking around him at the withered bushes and the smothering razorvine, he noticed for the first time that the fountain was completely filled with pigeon feathers. However, as the last traces of consciousness slipped away from him, Psioce saw the park in his minds eye in its former glory. Understanding blossomed in his mind for a brief moment before it was swept away by darkness.