I let my boyfriend, bald Karl, hook me up with some of his bloodsucker losers, and after we sorted our weapons out, we cruised on down to the docks of Neverwinter. Painted by darkness herself, and the moon as well, it was a ghastly place. Good thing I had bloodsuckers at my back. We had Myx Dyrius on double daggers, the snarl on her face never left her. Center was our mage, Fels Zyrion, a specialist in ice, a mage who dreaded fire. Imagine that. Taking up the extreme left was Aelion Leithus, a fallen high elf whose mane, as it was told by Karl, turned from blonde to white upon her change of blood…in his arms of course. Steely eyed and mirthless, her only joy was drawing the bullseye on unlucky souls, preferably ones still warm. Undead ones were ok to, but warm ones, well now, that’s when her…