→"Have you seen anything?" he barks at me. I shake my head and he hurries off, blowing a whistle to rally his men, which isn't going to work in this confusion. Bells, whistles, shouts and screams rend the air from every direction. Having failed to locate any Orcs around the church, I'm making my way down towards the harbour, ready to repel invaders. It's slow progress. I give up running and pick my way carefully along. I know every inch of these streets but the torches haven't carried away any of the mist and visibility is almost zero. Inevitably, I find myself trampling over beggars and comatose dwa addicts, lying in front of alleyways, impervious to the excitement. I'm continually jostled by soldiers, Civil Guards, mercenaries, not to mention Twelve Seas civilians carrying whatever weapons they can find. I march round a corner with a sword in my hand and nearly decapitate a funeral party, two men in black cloaks and hoods, and a veiled woman, all treading slowly homewards, heads solemnly bowed. I cast a swift suspicious glance at their concealed faces—you wouldn't expect Orcs to invade the city disguised as a funeral party, but who knows what they might be up to these days—but they're Human, not Orcs. I can always sense the presence of Orcs. A useful talent that's stayed with me from my days as a Sorcerer's apprentice. As it happens, I do see one of their faces, when I tread on someone's toes and he lifts his hood to give me an angry scowl.
