StarDestroyer.Net BBS

This is a sequel to Since When Does Trouble Knock?

Mikos passed through the gates to Nalifan's manse with a spring in his step. It had been pleasant enough visiting his family, but after a while it had felt confining. He had taken his leave and headed back south. The journey had been easy enough. Now he would retire to his suite of rooms and walk the woods as he chose. Maybe he would scout along the Cormyr boarder. There were rumours of upheavels. Might be interesting to take a look.

He wasn't suprised that his approach had been noticed. He was surprised that the woman who greeted him when the door opened was Laerasis. Nalifan's major domo rarely met anyone at the door. "What is it?" he asked.

The drow woman responded to his bluntness. "We have a guest. She's looking for Nalifan."

"Still not back?' he asked as he walked in.

"No, not since he went to Shadowdale," she responded as she lead him down the hall. Mikos couldn't help but notice her broad shoulders and well muscled arms. Damn, it had really been too long since he spent time with a woman.

"You admitted her in his absence?"

"As per his instructions," she responded. "She has obeyed the rules of the house."

Mikos didn't respond. He hated dealing with people. That was Nalifan's job when they worked together. The arch-mage's combination of reason, personal charm, and brute force usually brought things to an acceptable conclusion.

"She say what this is about?" he said finally.

"She says that she's found something that she needs his help with. Powerful magic. She proposed sharing."

"Alright, take me to her." Might as well get this over with.

Laerasis nodded. "She is rather eccentric, even for a human," Laerasis warned.

"By which you mean what?"

"You'll see," she said with a smile. Tyr damned drow. They always had to hold at least one secret over you. "Lead on."

The previous owners had decorated most of the manse in a style that Nalifan referred to as "Gaudy Calishite Brothel". Nalifan had taken many of the rooms that had been decorated with more restraint as his personal quarters, which meant that guest rooms were comfortable, but ugly in an overdecorated kind of way.

The drow woman stopped in front of a door and knocked. A voice came from within, speaking in Common with an accent that Mikos couldn't place. "Enter."

Laerasis opened the door and gestured for him to enter. Mikos walked in. It was the sitting room half of a two room suite. Plush carpet, a sofa, two heavily apolstered chairs, armour and weapon stands, a cat, and a woman wearing a silver mask.

The cat was a short furred female that went by the name of Smoke. She was serenely licking his left forpaw on the back of the couch. Beneath her sat the woman. She had shoulder length black hair and olive skin. She wore a sky blue silk robe shot through with a wave pattern made of gold threads. Height was about average and from what little flesh Mikos could see, she kept herself in good shape. A silver mask with the features of a cold and beautiful woman hid her features. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Mikos. Blood sworn companion of Nalifan, Arch-Necromancer and Prince of the High House of D'Azurientien." He hated aristos. Baator was going to freeze over before he let her push him around. "Who are you?"

"High Mage Fadima," she replied. "I am here to consult with Nalifan. He may be able to assist me in a project of mutual interest."

Uh-hu. Mage speak for I need his help and I don't want to admit it. "He's not here. Don't know when he'll be back."

It was impossible to tell her facial features under that mask, but one of her hands clenched. Gotcha. Didn't like that news much, did you? "Do you know where he went?" she asked.

"Yeah, but he'll be gone by now."

"Is it at all possible that the locals would know where he went?"

Mikos shrugged. "Maybe."

"Then tell me where he went."

"The locals aren't going to be interested in talking to a strange mage who is stalking him."

"You don't think I'm an enemy."

"Yeah. Because I remember a story about a woman wearing a silver mask who was the apprentice of a guy who helped us."

"Former apprentice," she said hautily.

"Whatever."

"Will you assist me?"

Mikos considered. It wasn't likely that she had travelled all this distance for something trivial. It was probably important. Important to Nalifan. And he wasn't really doing anything right now. "Alright. I'll help. Pack your things. We're going on a trip."

"Where to?" she asked. "I can teleport us just about anywhere."

Oh gods, thought Mikos. Even Nalifan could get a teleport wrong. He wasn't about to trust someone he had just met to get it right. "Not if you haven't been there. It's not too far." Well, strickly speaking that wasn't the truth.

"Where?" she repeated.

"Shadowdale," he replied.

Best. Goddamned. Name. Ever.

Ford Prefect wrote:Best. Goddamned. Name. Ever.

Thanks. And congradulations on your star.

Cheers, it's been a long time coming, though it is likely that this wil attract hordes of older users who like to show off.

Great fic name, also fits the opening chapter well.

And yes, look at my stars

ggs wrote:Great fic name, also fits the opening chapter well.

And yes, look at my stars

Actually, the name is a reference to something that will come up later. But thanks.

Wonderful! I happen to enjoy reading D&D-based fiction anyway, and "When does Trouble Knock" was extremely good reading. I look forward to reading the rest of this

LadyTevar wrote:Wonderful! I happen to enjoy reading D&D-based fiction anyway, and "When does Trouble Knock" was extremely good reading. I look forward to reading the rest of this

Your flattery will get your alter-ego preferential treatment.

Imperial Overlord wrote:

LadyTevar wrote:Wonderful! I happen to enjoy reading D&D-based fiction anyway, and "When does Trouble Knock" was extremely good reading. I look forward to reading the rest of this

Your flattery will get your alter-ego preferential treatment.

It's not flattery if it's true

"Good," she replied. She put her hand on his forarm and muttered a single word of many syllables. Space twisted and bent. Mikos bent over as he was overcome with vertigo. When he recovered they were on the outskirts of the town of modest size, surrounded by forest, with patches of cleared land. On the outskirts of town their was a hill that resembled a human skull and large tower of peculiar construction. Shadowdale.

"Gods above and below!" he shouted. "Ask before you do that! Bitch!" He forced down his surging stomach.

She ignored the insult. "Where to now?" she asked calmly.

He shook his head. "The Old Skull. If he's been seen here, tongues there will be wagging." He was feeling a bit better now.

"Where is that?"

"At the base of the hill. Come on." He started walking, taking long, rapid strides. She had to jog to keep up. Dalesfolk craned their heads as they past. They were a light skinned folk, healthy and strong limbed. The town seemed devoid of the destitute or the truly poor.

"Where are the beggars?" she asked.

"Dalesfolk take care of their own. Anyone in a bad way will get taken care of someone until they can get back on their feet. Friend, relative, priest, or the lord, someone will do it."

"That's . . . . unworkable."

"Works here. Every man and woman fights when the Dale is threatened, every man and woman finds a roof over their head when times get rough. It's the way it is." He shrugged.

She said no more about it. They walked to a large wooden building at the base of the hill. Two middle aged men were sitting on the porch, drinking ale. They watched Fadima with interest. Mikos nodded and walked in. The magician followed.

Inside was pretty noisy. The sun was low in the sky and the work day was closing. Men and women laughed at tables and called out friendly greetings and rejoinders. Eyes flickered towards the magician.

A silver haired woman stepped out from behind the bar. She was middle aged, tall and strong. "Who's your friend Mikos?"

"Fadima. She's a Calishite High Mage. Fadima, this Jhaele Silvermane, proprietor of the Old Skull and one of Shadowdale's community leaders. Jhaele, Fadima is looking for Nalifan."

Jhaele thought for a moment. "He was in here about a week back. Talked with a stranger. Left with him too. I think Alvarius was with him."

"Thanks," Mikos replied and looked around the room.

"Who is this Alvarius?"

"Local mage. Doesn't dress like one. Hates the Zhents. A lot. Not that anyone loves them. Likes the company of women. Gets some too. Known him for a long time. Likes the sound of his own voice almost as much as Nalifan. Should get along like a house on fire. Don't see him around though."

"What now?"

"We go to his house. Thanks Jhaele." He turned and walked out, Fadima following in his wake. "It's not far."

Mikos lead her to a modest house on the outskirts of the town proper. There was a field of tall grass and a small barn behind it. "Used to be a farm." He walked upt to the door and knocked. "Alvarius! It's Mikos!"

He waited for a moment. Nothing. Then there was the sound of feet on the stairs and coming toward the door. A man with reddish-brown hair poked his head out. "You're timing sucks. Can you come back in say two hours?"

"Sure," said Mikos. Alvarius gave a thumbs up sign and the door closed.

"What was that about?" Fadima asked.

"He's almost ready to close the deal with a woman. If he had, well, he wouldn't have come to the door." He started walking away.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to the Skull. Do you drink?"

"Not in public."

"Your loss."

It's nice, though the last sentence could work in two ways. Which is it: "You're lost?" or "Your loss?". Likely the second, but still.

"You are really missing out," Mikos said as finished another pint. "They take beer brewing seriously in the Dales. Even the dwarves think its good and they're worse snobs than elves."

"No thank you," Fadima said.

"You know, whatever you're hiding behind that mask, I've seen worse. A lot worse."

"That's none of your business. Do you think your friend will be finished by now."

Mikos choked on his beer, which triggered a caughing fit. He took a moment to recover. "Guess so. She's probably got to be places by now." Like her parents' house for dinner. He drained the last of his beer and tossed Jhaele a gold coin.

"You overpaid."

"It's a tip."

"Bloody big tip."

"Then consider it advance payment on the next round."

"Alright. Don't do something stupid and get yourself killed.

He nodded and walked out into the night air. He set a slow pace. "I guess its pretty big."

"What is?" she asked crossly.

"The thing you want to talk to Nalifan about. You're in such a hurry about it I figure its got to be important."

"Yes," she replied, "it is."

He waited for her to say something more. She didn't. The spent the rest of the trip in silence. Alvarius's house loomed ahead in the gloom. Lights were on inside. He walked up to the door and knocked. A moment latter the door opened. Alvarius made a sweeping bow and gestured for them to come inside. They did.

The wizard was dressed like any other prosperous Dalesfolk, with simple dark brown breeches, a white shirt, and a dark green tunic over it. The inside of the house was plainly decorated, but comfortable. A bear fur rug covered the living room floor and the wooden chairs and table were sturdy and smooth. A crossbow leaned up by the fireplace and a quarterstaff was in the corner. Another corner held an axe handle. A dagger was in his belt. "So Mikos, why have you brought a mage in a silver face mask to my door?"

The ranger sat down in chair. Fadima remained standing. Alvarius crossed over to the fireplace and stood with his back to his hearth. "She needs to find Nalifan. Quickly."

"And you can't?"

"He didn't leave any way to reach him."

"An oversight on his part, I suppose. You want my help?"

"Yeah. You were seen with him."

"Yes, we talked. Interestingly enough, you weren't the only one looking for him. A strange fellow by the name of Doriaz came into town. He wanted to the help of other mages. He approached me and Nalifan. Well, more Nalifan really."

"About what?"

"Grave robbing. I turned him down, of course. A wizard's grave, outside of Westgate. He had believed that there were grave goods of some importance. Nalifan was interested."

"Where around Westgate?" Fadima asked.

"A town by the name of . . . . what was it . . . . ah . . . . Gressel. Sorry, that's the best I can do."

"That's good enough," Fadima said, "a local will know more." She turned to leave and began heading out the door.

"Thanks," said Mikos.

"No problem. Let your arch-necromancer partner know that he owes me one."

"I will," Mikos replied. "Fare well." Alvarius nodded as Mikos followed the lady mage. "Your manners could use some work."

"Noted," she replied.

"What now?"

"We take rooms here and rest. Tomorrow I will prepare suitable spells to scry on Gressel and travel there."

Your dialogue's a bit short this time around, like you're in a hurry. You're barely giving us any information outside of it.

But enough of the critique... so far I've enjoyed it and I'm really starting to wonder what's up the young lady that she's being so urgent and mysterious about.

LadyTevar wrote:Your dialogue's a bit short this time around, like you're in a hurry. You're barely giving us any information outside of it.

Fadima plays things close to her chest and Mikos isn't talkative. So the dialogue is going to be sparse. As to whether or not it was too sparse that is up to my gentle readers.

Imperial Overlord wrote:

LadyTevar wrote:Your dialogue's a bit short this time around, like you're in a hurry. You're barely giving us any information outside of it.

Fadima plays things close to her chest and Mikos isn't talkative. So the dialogue is going to be sparse. As to whether or not it was too sparse that is up to my gentle readers.

Perhaps something more about their posture, their surroundings, Miko's thoughts about the situation... Just the dialogue alone is not enough to get a good feeling about the people. The last story you had more going on non-verbally.

The red headed man checked the edge of his sword out of habit. It was a one handed, double-edged blade, suitable for use from horseback, that was known in many parts of the Realms as a long sword. It had been forged over a thousand years ago by moon elves and it had sorcery woven into its very making. It had served him well for years. He was the fifth hero to carry this blade and he had no intention of disgracing himself, those that had given him the blade, or the sword itself.

"My lord Geheris," said a voice behind him. Morfindel was stealthy, almost stealthy enough to hide his approach from Gaheris. He turned his attention away from the blade and looked behind him.

They were hiding in a copse of trees just outside of the two tavern town of Gressel. They were near the base of the hill that served the town as cemetary, where the watchmen had seen intruders slide in at nightfall. Morfindel, with his superior stealth skills and elvish senses, had gone in to scout.

"What knews?" The moon elf was of height with Gaheris, who wasn't a particularily tall man. They were built similarily too, although the paladin was human and Morfindel was a moon elf. Gaheris had a heavier build and broader shoulders, but both men were lean and muscular.

"There are two of them, just like the villagers said. And a score of skeletons. They're digging up a crypt, making good time by the look of it. They'll be done by midnight at the latest. And one of them is a drow."

"Tyr lend me strength," Gaheris muttered. He looked over at his liege man. Both of them wore green and grey over shirts of mail. Stealth was an advantage that Gaheris was not prepared to surrender. He had gotten a good look at the power of evil growing up in Westgate. Some things couldn't be defeated by attacking head on. He had founded the Vara'Done because too many in the church hierarchy had been blind. After centuries of struggle, the Night Masks still ruled Westgate, in fact if not in name. Warhorses and full plate weren't going to change that. Maybe the Vara'Done would.

"Anyone else coming?" the moon elf asked.

"No," said Gaheris bitterly. "No one will be here in enough time to matter. Tyr's Hand, if we hadn't been out buying horses we wouldn't be here. Well, lets do it."

They slid up the hill. It was kept clear of underbrush, but the low brick cemetary wall and the tall summer grass provided cover. Gaheris poked his head over the edge. His eyesight wasn't elvish, but it was better than most.

Several trees and lines of headstones dotted the cemetary. The top of the hill was dominated by several modest tombs. At the base of a black obelisk a dozen undead laboured in a pit. Another half dozen surrounded a man in a black robe. Standing just slightly removed from the other necromancer was the drow.

The skeletons were of two types. One was heavy boned, with muzzle-like jaws full of fangs. The other was thick boned and tall, with fangs in the jaw and a distorted skull. Orcs and hobgoblins, probably raised from a mass grave near a battle site. The necromancer's features were hidden by his black robe, but by the size of him he was probably human.

The drow was another story. Tall, for a male, red eyed with sable skin. He wore a black leather mantle over lighter robes. Glints of colour came from under the mantle and on his forhead. Gaheris concentrated. He could sense no evil from either, but that could just mean that they were shielded from his soul senses.

He gestured to Morfindel. Westgate's gangs and thieve's bands used a variety of hand signs and slang to communicate, some of which had become a common underlangauge. Both he and Morfindel were fluent in them and the Vara'Done had created its own private langauge from that mix. Shoot the drow, he gestured. Then the human. I'll rush. You follow up.

Morfindel signaled his agreement. The dark haired moon elf drew his crossbow and fitted a bolt into the groove. Gaheris drew Bright Edge. Raised his hand. Lowered it.

He vaulted over the low wall as Morfindel brought his crossbow to bear. Why the elf used a crossbow, Gaheris never asked. The bolt flew true. The drow jerked his head around towards Gaheris as the bolt struck. There was a shimmer of protective magics around the point of impact. They weren't enough.

The jerk of his head had saved the drow's life. Instead of burying itself in his brain, the bolt smashed into his upper jaw. Blood, bone fragement, and pieces of teeth sprayed from the impact point. Gaheris closed the distance. "Get him!" the other necromancer screamed in common. The skeleton bodyguards closed, battle axes clutched in bony hands.

Gaheris had anticipated this. The human was chanting a spell. "Tyr!" Gaheris shouted. "Aid me!" Gold light flashed. The skeletons fell to pieces. Another bolt smashed itself to pieces inches from the human necromancer. Gaheris was afraid of that. In fact, his plan had anticipated it.

He raised Bright Edge. A few more steps and he would be on the human. A single sweep of his blade, two at the most, and then he would finish off the drow.

The drow pulled the bolt out of his jaw, which was accompanied by a fresh spurt of blood. That had to hurt. He leapted forward, his jaw working. Trying to see if he could cast. The drow were vile in a thousand different ways, but they were not devoid of virtue. That's what made them so dangerous.

The drow was fast. Not elf fast, but vampire lord fast. He interposed himself between Gaheris and the other necromancer, sword in hand. Gaheris stabbed low. The drow brushed the blade away with his left forarm, spell armour flashing where it interacted with enchanted steel.

The drow slashed at him. Nothing fancy, but well executed and damnably fast. Gaheris parried and his arm almost went numb. Fast as a vampire lord and as strong as one too. The drow's lips were pulled back in a rictus grin. No fangs.

He had too much magic and knew at least the basics of fighting. Bad odds. Teeth and bone were reforming. He knew that spell, or one like it. False Life was what the mages of Westgate called it. One of the more wholesome aspects of necromancy. If the drow healed enough to start spell casting, then they were probably dead.

Gaheris feinted high and let the drow knock Bright Edge out of his hand. Let the drow think he had won points. A sword fight wasn't going to settle this fast enough, not against him. The drow might be as strong as an ogre, but he didn't weigh as much. Gaheris hit him shoulder first.

The drow's spells made it like slamming into steel plate, but the drow didn't have sixty pounds of steel bulking up his frame. He flew back and tumbled to the ground. There was a flash off to the side and a crack of thunder. He hoped Morfindel had survived. He took two steps and leapt.

His tackle caught the human around the waist and bore him to the ground. He drove his gloved left hand into the necromancer's mouth while reaching for his dagger with the right. Pain exploded along his side as a kick stoved in his ribs and knocked him clear of the necromancer. The drow. Again.

Percival swept down from the sky. The griffon had held off as his approach would have been easily spotted, but now the necromancers were distracted. Claws extended he dived on the drow.

The drow chanted as Morfindel sprung forward, daggers in each hand. The elf had only been mildly scorched by the other's killing spell. A lime glow enshrouded him and the elf turned transparent and froze in place.

The drow spun away from the diving griffin. A claw clipped him, but failed to cut him through his spells. Percival circled low as Gaheris rose to his feet, his dagger held low. Tyr protected him, somewhat, from the drow's spells. He lunged.

Percival was coming around again, flying low and fast. The drow met Gaheris's leap and the two collided in the air, the drow coming down on top. Gaheris's dagger scraped impotently against the drow's wards as the drow's hands closed over his wrist and throat.

He squeezed and the bones of Gaheris's wrist ground together and he dropped the blade. The drow stood taking Gaheris with him. The crushing grip on his throat slackened. "My neighbours will have issues if I start killing followers of Tyr. Call off the griffin and we can discuss whether or not you and your friend get to leave in one piece."

Tall, for a male, red eyed with sable skin and red eyes.

I think that needs corrected.

Otherwise a great story! Keep them coming, please?

Oh snap.

The red haired man made a gesture and the griffon swooped in to land a dozen yards away. The creature began to make careful steps forward. "That's close enough," Nalifan said. The necromancer looked over his shoulder. Doriaz was getting up. Good. "That's better."

The human spoke again. "If you kill me, the followers of the Triad will hound you forever."

Nalifan smiled. "Smart. Stack as many positives as possible in favor of letting you live and as many negatives in the killing you column. It might matter if the Night King wasn't still the de facto ruler of Westgate. Or that the followers of the Triad couldn't bring down the mass murderers of Tyr's followers in Sembia. What undid the killers was making an enemy of me and mine. I've tossed Manshoon's emissaries into a fire. The Triad doesn't scare me. Now allowing people to think they can attack me and not suffer the some very unpleasant repurcusions, that could be bad."

The human's eyes narrowed. They weren't quite right. For a human. Nalifan examinded him closely. Strong cheekbones, thin lips, lean build. He probably had some elf blood in him a few generations back. The human spoke again. "You're one of the adventurers. Two of them were drow, if I recall correctly."

"Yes. The name is Nalifan. There's more to it than that, but we'll keep it simple."

"I am Lord Gaheris Trollbane, founder of the Vara'Done. And your service to the peoples of the Realms is not a liscence to rob graves."

The drow dropped him. Gaheris landed easily and resisted the urge to rub his throat. "Funny," said Nalifan, "I thought you would be taller."

Gaheris took a step back towards Bright Edge. "I get that all the time. How do you know who I am? You're not local and you're hardly a follower of the Triad."

"The church of Tyr was quite helpful when I asked them to share information about the vampires of Westgate. Your name came up. They didn't much approve of your methods. You're still going to fail, but you're going about it in a much smarter way than your colleagues."

"Thanks for the critique. You've won this fight, but you will still be held acountable for this."

"Do you know what is buried here?"

"No."

"Several hundred years a particularily repugnant wizard, by what is alledged to be humanity's normal ethical standards, ended up dying near here. They buried him under this slab of rock, in case he got fiesty."

"Burning the body would have been better."

"That would increase the chance the he would come back as a non-corporeal undead, but I'm not here to debate their tactics. His staff and his spellbook were apparently tainted with evil and resisted their attempts to destroy them. They were afraid of being corrupted by them and buried them with the afforementioned mage."

"One of the party was a bard an was in the process of writing a song to celebrate their deads when they were ambushed and killed shortly therafter in a raid. His notes turned up in treasure horde and his work has been reconstructed. Doriaz here heard the ballad, which was rather short on specific details, and was able to track down part of it. He came to me and we figured out the rest. Powerful divination spells are so useful when it comes to filling in the gaps."

"So you're here to retrieve the items."

"Yes. You should be grateful it is Doriaz and I who are here first. As oppossed to say the Zhentarim or the Night King. Dealing with dark magic is my specialty and has resulted in such social beneficial results as ending an unnatural winter, thwarting the plans of an evil goddess, and killing evil half dragon arch-mages who mass murder the followers of Tyr."

"Somehow I doubt your motives are entirely selfless," Gaheris said dryly.

Nalifan smiled. "Did I say they were? No, I want whatever secrets they contain for myself." A cough came from behind him. "And Doriaz, of course. You will have to admit, far better that I hold them than Manshoon."

"The vaults of the church of Tyr would also make a good choice."

"Perhaps. But either way, someone is digging up the grave and taking what lies within."

"I concede the point, but if the magic is so dangerous it shouldn't be used."

"I doubt those adventurers have an understanding of magic equal to mine, especially when it comes to necromancy and its so-called "corrupt and evil" nature. Leave that to the experts. I would not presume to lecture you on Tyrian orthodoxy and you should do the same with the Art."

Gaheris resisted the urge to take a swing at that irritatingly superior smile. "Alright. You're going to take it anyway and I suppose about your hands are not the worst place they could end up and if you're telling the truth they have to be moved soon. Now about Morfindel."

"He'll be fine, supposing no one breaks him. The spell wears off in about a day. I showed restraint."

"Interesting behavior for someone who isn't afraid of the church of Tyr."

"Only a fool makes unnecessary enemies. That doesn't mean I'll show this kind of restraint next time."

Gaheris nodded. "Alright. We had a misunderstanding here. I'll make sure there's good reason here before I come at you again."

"Good. We have an understanding. Doriaz?"

"Alright," the man sighed. "I'll raise the skeletons and get them back to work."

Fantastic! Great job once again

LadyTevar wrote:Fantastic! Great job once again

You know who Nalifan just had by the neck, of course.

Rogue 9 wrote:

LadyTevar wrote:Fantastic! Great job once again

You know who Nalifan just had by the neck, of course.

You, I'm guessing?
Don't worry, I understand my character will be appearing in a future chapter.

Very nice again IO. Nalifan proves that once again he's all kinds of badass. Who else can we expect cameo appearances from? Apart from Rogue 9 and the dashing Lady Tevar, of course.

LadyTevar wrote:

Rogue 9 wrote:

LadyTevar wrote:Fantastic! Great job once again

You know who Nalifan just had by the neck, of course.

You, I'm guessing?
Don't worry, I understand my character will be appearing in a future chapter.

Indeed; don't you remember Gaheris? Tycho's game. You know, the one with the whole spellfire mythallar business? (When I submitted the character, I did so on the assumption that the Tower of the White Hand business never happened, because it sucked so badly.)

Ford Prefect wrote:Very nice again IO. Nalifan proves that once again he's all kinds of badass. Who else can we expect cameo appearances from? Apart from Rogue 9 and the dashing Lady Tevar, of course.

Everyone who posted a suitiable candidate in the thread here or Librium. The Guid, Ra and Comrade Tortoise have also shown up.