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Johnny K. Gambino was a crazy, crazy man. There could be no denying that. It made one wonder about the future of his child, Gino Gambino. Would Gino turn out as deranged as his old man? Years from now, would he be unleashing hoards of genetically mutated bunnies into the streets into the streets like his old man--all because of some perceived slight? Who could say? In any case, worrying about the future did not change the present situation.

Rheamaenúr Litodal, "Rhea," lived on the fringes of Dark Elf society. Born with certain... differences from her kin, she had felt quite isolated within their already secluded culture. Isolated as well as judged and feared, possibly even reviled at times. Much of her life was spent on the surface, in the forests between Barton, Durem, and Bass'ken Lake, rather than in the seedy underbelly of Durem itself. The Isle de Gambino was a place she did not care to visit very often, even though it held the only decent casino for miles. And now that she was in a tight alleyway, trying to avoid an onslaught of attacks from ankle-biting, face-maiming grunnies, she remembered why.

That accursed Gambino... Always tampering with the natural order of things.... She glanced at her partner, a small owl, the Baron von Diogenes, or just "Diogenes." He hooted softly in understanding and flapped his wings, gaining a bit of altitude to assess the situation from above. Rhea and Diogenes shared a special connection, and she had always used it to her advantage. In addition to effortlessly understanding each other, Rhea found she could use Diogenes as an external set of 'eyes,' seeing what he was able to see.

She could hear and see the next wave of green rodents coming her way. They toppled over a fruit stand, adding to the confusion and chaos of this mad scene. She heard Diogenes give a soft hoot. Now!!

She exploded out of the thin alley, sword flashing in a brilliant silver crescent arc. The timing was perfect, and the blood and guts of at least half a dozen grunnies went flying. Ears and unlucky mutated feet flew in every direction. The shrill, high-pitched squeals and death throes of the other grunnies not fortunate to die immediately threatened to give Rhea a headache, but there were still more of those little monsters coming, a fresh wave of green. Like a repulsive hoard of lemmings, they followed each other.



There was another thing Rhea hated about these latest monstrosities to terrorize the Ilse de Gambino. They were fast. Even Diogenes, a great hunter in his own right, and expert at taking down small rodents to eat, was having trouble making his talons connect with any of the little hellbeasts.

Now that she was exposed, out of her hiding place, Rhea no longer had the element of surprise on her hand. The grunnies had seen her, and now she was the closest body full of delicious blood, bile, and brains to satisfy their unquenchable hunger.