text: December 1, 2012. A van puttered along the roughly paved road, carrying its passengers to Orvieto. Its secretive black exterior was completed by tinted windows and a foreign license plate. Few were on the road at this hour, and fewer still with weather so ominous. Clouds obscured the stars and moon, leaving the night almost pitch black. The local Italians had doubtless decided that this was a good night to sit at home with a warm coffee. Ishmael wished he could do the same.
  The atmosphere inside the van was at least as ominous as the outside. There were seven occupants, each an enforcer with years of experience working for the Mage's Association. Ishmael didn't know of a single occasion that could prompt such an entourage, short of this Holy Grail War. That left things uneasy, since mages are at best individualistic by nature and often pointedly antisocial. He looked from face to face, reminding himself of their names and specialties, and hoping he wouldn't need them.