Dinora's Tale.

Prologue.
Torches guttered and flickered, hissing in the rain, their light struggling to reach the alleyway just across the street. The ceaseless drip drip drip, a counterpoint to the gushing splash of water rushing from a spout onto the cobbles below. A small torrent had formed in the middle of the alley, winding its way between piles of detritus to join the larger river that was the main street. From there it flowed a short distance past a few darkened warehouse buildings, then over the edge of the wharf into the dark churning waters of the dock.
The muffled sounds of revelry could be heard from the bawdy house across the street. The warm orange glow from the windows, sliced through into bright diamonds of rippled glass. None of that warmth made out into the night, held in check behind bars of black lead.
A change in the texture of the gloom, the only difference between one shadow and the next. A solitary patch of murk detached itself from the others and moved, shuffling towards the alley entrance. A small, hunched figure, covered in a dark, sodden cloth, trailing through the water and filth. At the entrance to the lane, the huddled form stopped and turned, looking back into the darkness, seeing nothing. With a small sobbing sound, almost that of a child, she turned, and was gone. In the distance, a dog howled into the night.
With a heavy boom, the door of the tavern crashed open and a figure staggered out.