Publisher's blurb: The Fortress City of Sundabar is on high alert, the common folk trapped. Nothing is getting out, but something is getting in... "The street outside the Inn has few passersby and the occasional wagon. Across the street a dilapidated building has a hastily painted sign reading: Poetry Society. The windows are boarded up and the awful poetry can be heard clearly. From the narrow side alley a paunchy Halfling with a bulbous nose, elaborate mustache, and cheap monocle emerges and hurries down the street at a pace belied by his girth."