By Kyle Rader
The moment he first set foot in the home of Countess Morana, Regent to the King of Mesa, the Bard knew it would be the death of him.
The home was not in any state of disrepair. No cobwebs or dastardly looking servants with hunched-backs and bright eyes reflecting their bitter hatred to the world were milling about. It was the feel of the entire locale that sent foreboding chills down his spine.