A gray-furred Skreek wanders through the marketplace, ticking off items from a mental list on her fingers. "Gooshurms… That's the best way to start. I remember there was a fad a few years ago when people tried eating the sick things. Maybe it's still stuck somewhere around here and I can score some without too much fuss." She peeks into a booth and wrinkles her nose.

A giant green larva with blue ichor dripping from its front orifice is shoved into the Skreek's face. "Fresh and tasty!" exclaims the too-friendly bat that holds the too-large creature. "And it's still WIGGLY!" He jiggles the larva for effect, though it doesn't seem inclined to do any moving on its own. "A special discount for you. Half price today!"

"Yawp!" the rat squeaks and jumps back. "Er… I mean… what IS it?"

"Bah! Come over here! Delights that move on their own are YOURS for the taking! Have a free sample!" cries out a brown Eeee from the next booth over.

The first bat – tan in color – snorts at the competition, then says, "It's a rare delicacy … the larva of a Plaguebringer! Only recently come onto the market!"

The brown competitor cries out, "Have food that won't eat YOU first! Come on down!"

Despite the fact that she's on a "mission" of sorts, the Skreek's mouth does water a bit. Not being able to taste food for ten years – and then suddenly finding that gift returned – does amazing things for one's palate. She glances between the two bats, "Plaguebringer? Is it dangerous?"

At the same time, the tan bat shakes his negative, while the brown one nods the affirmative.

"It is GUARANTEED! Here … I'll PROVE it!" The tan bat takes a clawed hand and digs into the side of the larva, tearing out a large chunk that's green on the outside, and dark blue on the inside. He makes a show of shoving it into his mouth, chewing, then making loud "Mmmmm-mmmmm!" noises and rubbing his belly. The larva, meanwhile, proves that it is still alive, by squirming around violently … so much so that the bat loses his grip!

The rat lets out a muffled squeak of surprise and nimbly jumps out of the way of the tumbling bug, barely managing to keep from getting bits of splattered ichor on her shoes and clothing as the larva splatters against the dirt.

Another bat, who appears to have dyed himself several colors (along with his booth), cries out, "You like bright colors, I see! Come see Astaro, Purveyor of Fine and Brightly Colored Goods! My dyes will last far longer than larva ichor stains!"

The tan bat moans, slapping his hands to his face … making two blue marks on his cheeks. "My pardon, Madame! Ah … a free sample, yes!"

The Skreek's ears splay, "Do either of you happen to have any Gooshurms? Or blood flies? Or grabbits? I'm doing some shopping for the College Esoterica."

The bats look confused, then start competing to shout over each other. One of them holds up a grabbit by the leg. Its other legs flail about wildly. The other bat has a squirming, slippery-looking worm-like creature with three tongues. "Cheap!" "Bargain rates!"

"Fresh from the Himaat!" "Imported all the way from Ur!"

The Skreek leans against the counter of the Eeee clutching the worm-creature. "How much for every Gooshurm you have in stock?"

The brown Eeee's ears flush. "Ah … This is the only one I have. It is for scaring off a foppish-looking fox who tries to get too many 'free samples'."

"But I can get MORE!" he promises. "I can have them here within a week!"

"A WEEK? Bah… what kind of bug merchant are you?" The rat taps her foot angrily and turns to the second merchant, "How soon could YOU get me some Gooshurms?"

A short Skeek (okay, so that's redundant), walks up behind the rat. He sniffs disdainfully, then wanders over to the booth of Astaro, as the bats begin their shouting competition again.

"Six days!" claims the tan merchant. "Five days! Five days, and I can give you enough to start a farm!" "Four! Four, and the finest selection … and bargain rates!"

The mouse, meanwhile, squeaks something at the dyed bat. Astaro frowns and shakes his head, shrugging. The mouse, in return, looks dejected. He can't be heard over the tumult, but it sounds like he then tries to crack some sort of joke, which Astaro politely laughs at.

The rat begins to backstep out of the haggling and tilts her ears towards the bat and mouse. Her inner alarms pick up an insult against her that she might have missed.

Astaro can be heard to say, "… that the family has been struck by. Fennecs are hardy creatures, and they'll be competing with me again soon enough. No need to go bothering them."

The Skeek nods, and says, "Yosah ees worry for Reesh. Preetee. Not to be stuck weeth drunkeen boyfreend. Need nice young feex like Fahnceesco!"

At this, the rat's ears perk straight up and she's at Astaro's counter in an eye-blink. "Pardon me for being nosy… but did you say Francisco? Guy Fox Francisco? Mage of the Sphere of Illusion Francisco?"

A bat wandering by with a box full of "Jiggly-Wigglies" was just about to accost the Skreek as a third contender in the battle for her shekels, but she seems to have gotten out of the way just in time. Astaro seems startled at her sudden interest in his conversation. "Why, yes. He is a friend of all in the Bazaar, ever since he saved the daughter of Avram the zolk merchant. He is a hero indeed!"

The Skeek glowers at the Skreek, though. The mouse seems to share the usual prejudice that mice have against rats. "Whee for you want weeth Fahnceesco, Skreek?"

Astaro laughs politely and says, "Don't mind Yosah. He is just concerned. Avram has fallen ill, and his family has not put up its booth for several nights now."

The rat's ears shoot back. "Have you… um… SEEN Francisco lately?"

"Avram?" the Skreek asks, eyeing the brightly colored bat.

Astaro and the Skeek look at each other, then shake their heads. "No," says Astaro. "I usually see him from time to time. He appreciates my handiwork." He smiles broadly, gesturing to his garishly-patterned cloths. Hmm. One of those patterns is the same pattern that the sinister Kitsune had on his shirt, underneath that rather special cloak of his.

The Skeek says, "Fahnceesco to Yosah's shop all day of week! Yosah feed heem gladly!" His whiskers twitch. "Not see thees week. Meebe all feexees geet seeck? Not see feepeesh feex, either!"

Astaro adds, "Avram is my most esteemed rival. He is a zolk merchant, though his patterns are bland compared to my own. He brings the finest fabrics from his homeland in the Himaat, and sells them here with his family. His daughter," the bat waggles an eyebrow, "has an eye for Francisco … though she's far too shy to tell him so."

"I'm not one to judge or anything… but I keep hearing rumors. That sawbone's tent that got torched, the thirty dead in Darkside… and whispers that a fox was the culprit. A fox with gray fur… and now Francisco has vanished." The rat shrugs. "I could just be jumping at shadows, but every Eeee knows to trust his ears."

The Skreek eyes the cloth, "What is that? Zolk? Doesn't that come from Gooshurms?"

Astaro looks like he's about to respond to the Skreek's commentary, but he is distracted at the mention of zolk. "Yes! So ironic, that a fox would appreciate such fabric! I … have never bothered to educate Francisco about its origins." He winks conspiratorially.

The Skeek, meanwhile, waves a hand dismissively. "Deekseed? Who ceer abeet Deekseed? Fahnceesko too neece to go eento Deekseed, so he ees safe."

"Do you have Gooshurms of your own? Or this Avram fellow… does he have some? I'm looking to buy a few, young ones preferably – and I'll pay well." The rat taps a blunted claw against the countertop.

Eyes narrowing slightly, the rat bites down on her comments about the fox for now. It wouldn't do to insult someone that might give her some useful information. "What's wrong with Avram? Any particular symptoms of his sickness you've noticed?"

Astaro hmms. "Avram has several Gooshurms in the Himaat. Rumor is that he has actually trained some. He invests heavily in Slurp-B-Gon. He might have one here, but Gooshurms only produce zolk in the Himaat, I am told. I do not know why."

The Skeek says, "We heev not seen Avreem. Yosah only guees he ees seeck, for he neveer meeses a day … eend hees house ees not closed up for a treep to Himeet."

Something in the rat's mind hints at something amiss. Supposed "friends" of the murdering fox seeming to get sick or vanish – she starts to fear the worst. "Where does Avram live? Maybe I can make up for the business he's lost by seeing if I can buy a Gooshurm of his?"

The Skeek hmphs. "Yosah ceen show you. Zees way!" He adjusts a bundle of something he's got under one arm, and starts walking off.

Blinking, the rat dashes after the mouse. "Here… I'll help you carry that if you want," she offers. "Least I can do for you showing me the way."

Astaro furrows his brow, looking at the Skreek. Perhaps he can somehow sense that unease in her countenance? "I … think I shall pay my respects as well. My son can tend the tent for me a little while." He turns and squeaks loudly toward the back of his booth, and a somewhat shorter version of Astaro comes up to take his place. The dyed bat uses his wings to catch up with the two rodents.

The bat, rat and mouse arrive at a humble-looking house in the area occupied by the Bazaar. Technically, nobody should be living here, according to city ordinances … but then, the Bazaar shouldn't exist, according to the books, either.

It's a townhouse, narrow and squeezed in between houses just like it all along the street. It is three stories tall, though each story is just enough to hold one decent-sized room and a staircase … or several "cozy" rooms.

The Skeek taps on the door. "Avreem? Yosah ees me! Eend Eesteero … eend a Reet."

"My name's Willow," the rat chitters idly as she eyes the house. Old instincts kick in and she inhales sharply through her nose, testing the scents in the air.

There's a stench in the air. It smells like dead vermites. Lots of dead vermites. Someone must have neglected to take out the trash…

Flies buzz about, despite the Skeek's repeated attempts to slap them away. Astaro looks like he's eyeing them for a chance at a quick snack.

Frowning somewhat, the rat steps forward and knocks at the door as well, sticking her nose against the wood and breathing in the scents on the other side.

Her nose catches a whiff of more of the dead vermite odor. Or maybe that's not the smell of a dead vermite. Not having her nose for so long has made it hard to determine which sensation to associate with which … but the scent is most certainly disagreeable.

Astaro heads over to put his ear to the window. "Quiet inside." He tries to peek between the shutters. "Oh! I see someone. I think it's Avram, asleep at his desk." He starts banging on the shutter. "AVRAM! Come to the door!"

Willow rubs her nose. "Damn it all… He got here first," she whispers to herself. She grabs the knob and rattles it.

The door opens. It seems that nobody bothered to lock it. However, it's fairly heavy, as if something large were pushing against it from the other side. The smell is stronger as the door cracks open. The Skeek gags as he catches a whiff of it, and staggers back down the front steps. "Skeeeee!"

Astaro comes back from the window, and recoils once he catches the smell as well. "Sunala! What is that?"

Wincing, the rat holds her sleeve over her nose and wrenches the door open the remainder of the way.

As she does so, there's a *thump* from the other side of the door. A leg can be seen around the door. It obviously belongs to a fennec. There is a puddle of dried blood on the wooden floor.

The Skeek shrieks in horror, dropping his package, and curling up as if trying to keep his face away from an attacker. Astaro just mumbles, "Wires… "

"One of them might still be alive," Willow mumbles through her sleeve. "Keep en eye out – I might be running out of here pretty Dagh fast." She draws a dagger with her free hand and dashes into the door.

As the Skreek dashes in, what she sees is a living room in chaos. It looks like there has been some struggle. The fennec who was against the door was probably slumped against it. The dead-bolt is open and lying on the floor, as if tossed aside in a hurry. Another fennec is slumped on a writing desk, his claws oddly splayed and his body twisted in rigor mortis. There is another pool of blood beneath him as well. Neither of the foxes looks, however, as if they've been slashed or stabbed … They do, however, sport one obvious wound. Their tails are missing.

The male fennec – Avram? – has a writing quill frozen in his right paw. On the desk is a pad of parchment sheets … but the top sheet has been torn away, and the one beneath it is blank. Apparently the fennec didn't get much writing done.

"How many people lived here?" Willow shouts through the door. "There's two dead here that I see."

Astaro stumbles into the room, and chokes at the sight. "I'll," he stammers, covering his face with a cloth. "I'll check upstairs. Avram lived here with his four sons, his wife, and his daughter."

The rat carefully slides her dagger back into place and pulls the pad out from under the fennec's arm. She looks around for a pencil, hoping that the Zerda pressed deeply enough into the pad to leave an impression on the page underneath.

It takes some searching through the writing desk, but there is indeed a charcoal pencil – a fresh one – and a sharpening knife.

Astaro can be heard crying out in alarm upstairs, and choking again. "No … no, this is horrible!"

The rat keeps the knife handy just in case and starts scribbling over the pad, trying to bring out Avram's last writing. "How many, Astaro?"

The Skeek, meanwhile, comes back up the steps, and in the front door. This time, he's not alone. The two bug-selling bats have come with him, and a few others can be heard milling about outside. More cries of alarm soon follow as, one by one, they either see the scene with their own eyes, or are told about it by those who can see.

Astaro squeaks down the stairs, "All of Avram's sons … and Ferdinand, Rache's boyfriend. He … is not … " Astaro chokes, then says, "I cannot find Rache."

"Yosah… the people outside, keep them calm," Willow chitters, trying to bite down on her own fear boiling in her stomach. "Tell them to stay where they are. I have something to say to them."

Words form on the paper, written in Rephidim Standard, rather than what would presumably be the Zerda's native tongue. "To the Dean of the School of Illusion, Collegia Esoterica: I am most saddened to have to report to you a most disturbing behavior by one of your students… "

Yosah nods. He shoos some of the curiosity-seekers back out, and heads out to try to calm the crowd … though he looks on the verge of mousy panic himself.

"… Francisco, heretofore a close friend of my family, forced himself upon my daughter, Rache. Only by chance did we happen upon the scene before he could … "

No more writing. The letter was not finished.

Astaro appears to have come down from searching upstairs, and witnesses the tail end of the rubbing process. "Oh no," he whispers.

Anger starts to boil up from behind the rat's eyes… so hot that they water. She clutches the pad to her chest and steps back outside. "Go back outside. I've seen all I need to see."

Willow turns on her heel and moves outside to face the mob.

Astaro nods, and backs away. "I … have seen … enough as well." The color fades from his ears. He chokes, "The others … their tails were missing, too."

An odd assortment of shocked and frightened Bazaar merchants, entertainers and random passers-by looks at the Skreek, as if expecting answers.

The rat begins piling up a few crates and baskets until she's made a makeshift platform. She scrabbles up to the top of them and looks at each and every one of the frightened faces in turn. She hands the marked-up pad to the mouse and motions for him to show it to the others. "Merchants… people of the Bazaar… you have suffered a loss among you. A dear friend and his family were heartlessly murdered by a predator … the same predator that burned the tent of Chiria Naochi and murdered her, the same predator that killed thirty in Darkside… except this predator sees more than the scum of the shadows as his prey."

Eyes are fixed upon Skreek … except for those that pause to look at the pad held by Yosah … and after they've seen enough, they look upon the rat even more intently, with ears all the more open to what she has to say.

A few of those present cry … crying in disbelief that such a thing could happen here … crying that something like this could happen to such a good man as Avram and his family … or that someone they'd turned into a hero could turn around and do … this?

"That predator's name is Francisco. Many of you know him as a friend and a hero… but what kind of hero uses the blood of your children in his dark rituals? What kind of hero tries to rape the daughter of the family that viewed him almost like a son… and then murdered each and every one of those family members – those eyes that loved him – and then took their only daughter away? No doubt poor Rache has been lost by now as well." The rat's fists tremble in anger, and she holds them out. "And who is to say you will not be next? As you befriended him, fed him, cared for him… who is to say he did not only wish to learn your weakness, so that he could find new blood after Avram's was spilled?"

Weeping can be heard … but some of the faces change from grief … to stronger emotions. A grizzled-looking old Jupani – one eye covered with a patch – pulls out a carving knife and thrusts it into the air. "Hide for a hide! Tail for a tail!" he howls.

"Francisco has made a deal with Dagh. He can summon monsters from your deepest nightmares. The Francisco you know died when that deal was sealed… In his place is a murdering monster." Willow thrusts her fist above her head. "We need soldiers to stop this, and anything else you can give to aid us. Silver for weapons that can burn the demons, cold-forged iron. Gooshurms, grabbits, vermites, and any other bugs to scare him into falling into a trap. Who can help me? Who is willing to fight? Who wants revenge?"

The crowd is working up into a frenzy, and that frenzy is expressed as several fists, wings, claws and talons thrust into the air, some of them holding make-shift weapons, as if they're ready to charge into battle right away. A great cry goes up, and it drowns out the sound as the Clock Tower chimes the hour.

The rat steps down from the boxes, "Ready yourselves and wait in your tents. Send what you can to the College Esoterica, especially the bugs… A spirit mage there is working to stop this menace before it grows any more. I'll be back, and when I come back I'll be ready for anyone who wishes to join me to finally rid Rephidim of this murderer. Until then… gather what you can, and remember Avram."

More shouts, and even a few cheers erupt from the crowd. The merchants of the Bazaar … which once loved and adored the Kitsune … just might have become his worst enemy.