It is a dark time in the land of Norrath. Confusion abounds. The moon has crashed into the planet and Norrath finds itself in a mysterious Age of Cataclysms. Death—Death with a capital D—is here, mostly as a disembodied voice.

His business is booming. But Death is lazy.

He assembles a ragtag group of strangers to handle his most irksome errands, and they're the most selfish, irritating louts this ancient world has to offer. This triad of layabouts is quite possibly the world's most inept assassins and they're more trouble than they're worth. Death makes them an offer they can't refuse to remain living: They must act as his indentured servants/hired assassins to roam the countryside and deal death to all on his "Enemies List," all of whom have thus far proved adept at escaping their fate.

From then on, they are known as the Ill Messengers. Sure, they're jerks. But they're Death's jerks.

The humor can get a little "blue" from time to time, so be forewarned!