The adventures of a relic hunter named Benjamin Skyhammer on the world of Falzan.
Benjamin Skyhammer lay in bed, listening intently for the noise to come again.
His hand moved soundlessly to sword at his side. Moonlight faintly lit the room. He inhaled deeply then sat up coughing - the heavy scent of lilacs seemed to cut off the air to his lungs.
A flutter of black and red at the window.
He slipped off the bed and padded silently to the window, longsword at the ready. The latch slid up with a click. A black whirlwind burst through window and disappeared in darkness on the other side of the room.
He locked the window again without taking his eyes off the area where the creative had disappeared in the corner of the room. "I'm lighting the lamp." Feeling for the bedside table with his hand, he picked up a box of matches, struck one on his sword and stuck it in the hollow ledge that ran around the room.
Warm light danced on the wings of a wolf-sized butterfly perched on Skyhammer's trousers thrown over the back of a chair.
Skyhammer leveled his sword and focused on the creature's inky black eyes. A smattering of red on the black wings briefly drew his gaze.
Breathing shallowly to avoid the cloying lilac scent, he asked, "Why are you here?"