Look What I Found Under a Rock

[Umbras]

Rogue if i may ask you wouldnt happen to play world of Warcraft on the Deathwing server, I have gotten to know a person who plays a Paldin there with the same name.

[Imperial Overlord]

Gaheris watched as the skeletons finished the excavation. Dawn was maybe two hours away. Doriaz and Nalifan were both a the edge of the pit, watching as the last bits of earth crumbled away. "You said we were doomed," said Gaheris.

The drow turned his head. "I did?"

"Yes. Earlier. You said we weren't going to beat the Night Masks."

"You won't, barring a major stroke of luck."

"Care to elaborate?"

The drow smiled. "Picking my brain?"

"You have a high opinion of your intelligence. Why don't you awe me with your brilliance?"

"Ah, appealling to my ego will sometimes get you results. It's simple really. The Night Masks run the city and control, in one way or another, much of its legitimate power structure. They can be attacked, but they have more power, in the light and in the shadows, to bring to bear than any of their enemies."

"The new Night King isn't just a vampire lord, he's an arch-mage. You won't be able to hide from him, especially with a griffon and its eating habits to deal with. The Night King may even be more powerful than I am and he has all the power of the Night Masks to deal with. As long as the vampires are around, the Night Masks can effectively rule by terror no matter how many of their expendible membership you kill. They, on the other hand, need merely to start making examples of you and anyone around you to win."

"You will find my order is well equipped to fight a shadow war."

"I know, that's what makes you smart. The griffon, that's not smart. Not in Westgate. You need to do three things. One, you need to be able to evade or survive an attack on you or your loved ones. Two, you need to be able to find where the vampires roost. Three, you need to be able to destroy them. One is unlikely. Two is possible. You'll be dead long before you manage three."

"What's your solution then?"

"Leave Westgate. You can't win. Now. Recruit, grow in strength and power. Leave the griffon outside. Scout the return, strike fast and hard."

"Give up."

Nalifan rolled his eyes. "Short lifers. To think that my mother thought I was impatient. You don't throw good men into a bad situation."

"I'll consider-"

"Nalifan!" Doriaz shouted. "We've found it!"

The drow turned back to the excavation. The side of a plain wooden coffin was expossed about two feet below the bottom of the obelisk. "Excellent," said the drow. "Now we need to do something about the obelisk."

"Yes, having it topple on us while we take out the coffin would be most unpleasant," Doriaz responded. "I don't suppose you have any disintigration spells left?'

"No, I used them all blasting the first holes in the ground." Gaheris raised his eyebrows. That explained how they were able to dig the hole that fast. "But there is another spell I can employ." Space twisted and rent as he uttered terrible words of power.

A spherical rent in space appeared in front of the drow, hovering about head level. The air shimmered and twisted around the absolute dark of the rift. It wasn't much bigger than a human head, but Gaheris had no doubts about how powerful it was.

It moved with disconcerting speed and bored into the obelisk. The stone seemed to collapse into the hole in space. In a few seconds most of it was gone. Nalifan swept it through the rock, sucking up all of its material. The rift the swooped back to hover about two feet above the drow's head.

"Handy," said Doriaz. "You don't have a spare copy of that spell lying around?"

"It's about as easy to cast as invoking a prismatic sphere."

"Maybe latter," he said sourly

The skeletons dragged the coffin out. The wood was wrapped in rusty chains that the undead labourously began removing. The necromancers waited with baited breath. The rift winked out, much to Gaheris's relief.

The lid came off. Gaheris bent down to look. Inside there were blackened bones, ash, a black leather book, and a gnarled staff of black wood.

"Our prize," said Doriaz. His hood fell back to reveal lank black hair, pale skin, and a leather mask shielding his face.

"Not so terrible," Nalifan said. He examined the magical auras around each. "The staff is a nasty piece of work. As for the book . . ." he reached down and picked it up.

The drown flipped through the pages. "A nice protective enchantment. The spells are written in a combination of Nar and Netherese shorthand." He flipped through a few more pages. "Hmmmm. Of limited utility, unless you like to draw upon the powers of the lower planes for aid."

"You can tell that quickly?" Doriaz said with awe.

"Yes. Not all the details, of course. It's probably why they feared it. Strong protective magic and infernal spells undoubtedly set off alarms in their heads. Now the staff is a nasty piece of work, but safe enough as long as you don't try to use it."

"You're sure?" Doriaz asked.

"Yes, it's a surface level copy of a type of staff common among drow mages. I can get a good price for this in S'shameth."

"Wait a minute," Gaheris said, "you don't mean to say that you're going to sell this to other drow. That wasn't our arrangement."

"Our arrangement was your surrender. If you know another place I can get a good price for it, I'm all for it. I'm sure Doriaz doesn't intend to do it."

"Nalifan," said the necromancer, "we shouldn't let that thing loose in the world."

"It appears we have to discuss what exactly to do with our plunder. I suggest we-"

A soft rumble interrupted Nalifan. The air nearby shimmered and twisted. Two figures appeared.

"Mikos and Fadina, if I recall correctly. What brings you here?"

The silver masked Calishite mage inclined her head slightly. "Lord arch-mage, I have a proposition that you may be intersted in."

[Rogue 9]

Rogue if i may ask you wouldnt happen to play world of Warcraft on the Deathwing server, I have gotten to know a person who plays a Paldin there with the same name.

No, I don't. Gaheris was the name of one of the foremost Knights of the Round Table in the Arthurian legends; I'm not surprised that I'm not the only one to use the name.

[Rogue 9]

Oh, and Nalifan severely overestimates Orbakh. He was one of Manshoon's earliest clones, made when he was 18th level. As such, he's not an epic archmage, though being a vampire naturally does make him more challenging.

[Imperial Overlord]

Oh, and Nalifan severely overestimates Orbakh. He was one of Manshoon's earliest clones, made when he was 18th level. As such, he's not an epic archmage, though being a vampire naturally does make him more challenging.

Orbakh is 16 Wiz/archmage 1 at the start of the campaign. And he has an artifact. And some of his dukes are nearly as powerful. And his organization is far more adapted to a shadow war than paladins who won't threaten to massacre people's families or use mind control. His lair is, as Nalifan anticipates, designed to maximize the use of vampiric strengths and minimize weaknesses, while there is really no place in the city that is safe from him and his dukes.

[Imperial Overlord]

The water turned red and gold as the sun sank over the horizon. The dark haired woman looked out over the balconey and called back inside. "Trizkel, you should see this."

The drow walked out to join her. He was nearly her height and she was tall for a woman. His head was shaved bald; the left side of his skull and his empty eyesocket was covered by an intricate plate of platinum and rubies. He wore a shirt of sky blue silk over white cotton breeches. "Yes, its gorgeous. Which wasn't my reaction to my first sunset."

She turned and smiled. To Trizkel that smile was more beautiful than the sunset. "I'll bet."

He tapped the plate. "One of the benefits of wearing this." She leaned back against the balconey. He watched the play of the muscles in her arms. The pale skinned woman had developed a light tan. Her musculature was less pronouced than Trizkel, who was massively built by elf standards, but quite respectable. He had seen her kill with the blade and she had more than enough strength to get the job done. "Mmmm."

"Like what you see?" she teased.

He his gaze over her firm flesh from the black boots and slacks, up to the white silk shirt and her straining bosom, the exposed flesh of her cleavage and throat and the mischief in her eyes. "Very much."

"You're not so bad yourself."

"Thank you," he said closing the distance.

"And you do know some very nice places."

"We've been through Sembia before. The locals seem to have remembered us."

"Funny," she replied, tantalizingly close. "How did you overcome the local's prejudices?"

"Sembia has a bad history with elves and so they've heard fewer tales about what nasty people we are and are less ready to believe them. And they worship money. We had a lot of money."

"I'm not interested in the money," she breathed.

"Either am I," he said embracing her.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour before dawn a figure slipped down from the roof onto the balconey. He was garbed completely in black and made scarcely more noise than a cat. A moment latter, another figure joined him. They crept forward, through the open balconey doors and into the luxury suite.

They stepped over discarded clothes on their way to the bedroom. Their target was with dark haired woman, both of them covered with only a light sheet. They split up, each moving to a different side of the bed. Blades smeared with green paste were gripped in their hands.

Hands went to their target's mouths, knives to their throats. The blades knicked flesh, drawing blood. The shorter knife man gazed into Trizkel's eye. "Not a twitch or my friend buries his blade in your woman's flesh." The drow's gaze narrowed. The assassin smiled. I wouldn't be long before the drug's on the blade took effect. It was going as smooth as silk. Not bad for a rush job against a formidable target.

The woman's eyes fluttered. Not long now. Her eyes closed. So did the drow's. He lolled, his mouth half open. The taller assassin flipped Sylvetria over and withdrew a length off enchanted silk cord from his clothes.

A stream of acid errupted from Trizkel's mouth, striking the assassin in the face. He managed a brief scream as the acid dissolved his face, ate through his skull, and liquefied his brain. He toppled.

Trizkel did not need his eye to see and his powerful constitution was more than a little resistant to poisons and drugs. The other assassin whipped out his blade and the drow crashed into him. He scored the drow's arm, cutting deeply into Trizkel's muscle.

Psionically augmented muscles flexed and Trizkel pulled. The assassin's shoulder blades popped out of their sockets. He didn't make a sound. Trizkel smashed him across the throat, crushing his trachea, and then twisted his head around until his neck snapped for good measure. He staggered to his feet.

His reactions were getting sluggish. Not good. The poisoned blades had bit him twice. He poured more power into augmenting his stamina while he could still concentrate, buying him more time. He reached into the small bag with his clothes. A bandolier of flasks that was far too large to possibly have fit came out. He withdrew one and drank it as he walked over to Sylvetria.

She was still breathing. Good. Their attackers had seemed to have wanted to take them captive. That was a bad mistake, even if they ahd succeeded. Just as anyone who raised a hand against Nalifan needed to fear his blade, anyone who tuck a run at him should fear Nalifan's wrath.

He was steadier now. Trizkel poured a little of the potion into her wound and then into her mouth. The potion should neutralize the poison. There was a crack of displaced air and five people appeared on his balconey.

Trizkel wrapped himself in a corona of protective power as drew his blades from the sword stand beside the bed. Nalifan exceeded him in deliberate cruelty, but this day his enemies would find little difference between them. He would quench his rage in an ocean of pain.

[LadyTevar]

Uhoh.. not good.
And you need to go over that again with a spellchecker, my friend Otherwise, you've really tightened up the interactions and scene setting. Even the seduction scenes are getting better

[Imperial Overlord]

Trizkel lunged, Mind Eater in one hand and Flesh Shredder in the other. The front three were fighters, no doubt about it. One was short, stout brown skinned man wearing mail and armed with a scimitar and spiked shield. He wore a black scarf across his face. The second was taller and leaner, armoured in steel plate over leather and mail. He had a long handled axe in his right hand and a flanged mace in the other. The third didn't bother with a mask. He was six and a half feet tall with shoulder length blonde hair and a short beard. He wore a breastplate marked with dwarved runes and vambraces over leather. He had a hand and a half sword that looked like it would be an excellent for cleaving through armoured orcs.

Trizkel feinted high with Mind Eater at the short one and swept the swordsman feet out from under him. He deflected the axe, stepped forward and kicked two weapons in the right side. The blow propelled him up and and back. His lower back came down on the balconey and he slid over the edge and fell three stories to the cobblestones below.

The two behind the fighters got in on the action. They were mages, of course. One wore a red and white striped robe, the other was lean and wrapped in sky blue silk. Silver glinted on his fingers and wrists.

Stripes said something and motes of emerald light appeared around Trizkel. He passed through them and they popped harmlessly. If they wanted to bind him with sorcery, they were going to have to try harder.

Sword and shield pressed forward, slashing with his sword and thrusting with his shield spike to drive Trizkel back. The Eyes of Arachnia allowed him to see what was happening behind him as well as in front.

"Rash!" the blonde called out in warning. Too late. Sylvetria was fairly strong and really fast. She brought her sword down hard on Rash's upper arm with both of her hands. The mail should have parted under the enchanted blade. It didn't. Magic.

Rash's bones weren't as tough as his armour. There was a cracking sound as it broke and his shield went limp. Too bad for him. Red stripes and blue were chanting.

Sylvetria went rigid and Trizkel shook off another spell. The drow lunged to the side. She was easy meat now and he would not allow that. He crashed into the Rash, the scimitar slicing through shields and flesh. The pain was nothing. He landed on top. He drove Mind Eater through the swordsman face and into his brain. The body under him spasmed.

The blonde was swinging at his waist. Trizkel parried with Flesh Shredder and the shock of impact ran up his arm. He pulled Mind Eater free and stabbed a the human's legs with the blade, forcing him to take a step back. The drow regained his feet. Two mages, one swordsman. He snarled.

Blue uttered something and a blast of force lifted him off his feet and smashed him through the wall and into the next room. The room seemed to spin around and his whole body ached. He had lost his weapons somewhere in his flight. Everything ached and it hurt to breath. Without his shields it would have probably have been worse.

The blonde giant was ducking through the hole. He seized Trizkel's legs as he pulled a pair of manacles from his belt. They still wanted him alive. The drow kicked free, spun around on the carpet, and supressed the agonizing pain. As Nalifan had trained to bind the energies fo the multiverse to his will, so had Trizkel honed his will. His fingers brushed the northman's leg. It was enough.

Trizkel transmitted his pain the swordsman. The northman convulsed and fell. The drow staggered forward, his lips curled in a feral grin. Two left. More spells were being cast. A glowing glyph floated in the air. Pain drove the drow to his hands and knees as his head swam. His world was fire.

He raised his head and tapped into the last reserves of his power. A stream of acid struck red strip in the chest. He screamed and collapsed. Blue robe spoke another spell and vanished in a flash. The pain eased.

Trizkel fumbled with his satchel, withdrew a bottle, and drank. The pain abatted somewhat. Sylvetria was stiring. "Dead?" she croaked.

"Or fled," he said, but realized that might not be true. "Get dressed." He walked over to the northerner. Glazed over eyes met his. He checked his pulse. Dead.

He quickly put on his clothes. Red stripe wasn't in better shape. Half of his chest was goo. No point in spending any time doing anything other than looting. Which reminded him that he was no longer courting.

He removed his necklace from the sack. A mummified hand was not something most women found attractive dangling from a man's neck and so he had removed it. As to why he would choose to wear it, that was simple. Each finger held an enchanted ring which functioned at full potency instead of interferring with each other. When you added those he wore on each hand that made seven rings of power.

He leapt from the balconey and drifted down to the street. The warrior was still alive, but it looked like his back was broken. "It looks your luck ran out with the mage," said Trizkel. "How cooperative you are influences how nasty this next part is."

[Imperial Overlord]

Kaeryn brushed her braid back and knelt over the body. "Do you know him?" the watch captain asked. He wasn't a tall man, nor was he powerfully built. There was an impression of strength and kindness on his grizzled features. He could be hard when he had to be, which was more often than he liked.

"Yes," she said softly, "he was one of Mystra's faithful. He was a well respected member of our congregation for over thirty years. He was a faithful servant of Our Lady of Mystries. He was a good man, a conscientious scholar, and an accomplished wizard." The Dweomerkeeper was plainly dressed, wearing grey pants and a blue tunic, but very easy on the eyes. Her brown hair was touched with red and fell half way down her back. Kaeryn face was strong but not unfriendly. She was fit, but was not lacking any womanly curves.

The watch captain looked at the the fallen book cases and the scattered books and papers. "He put up a fight. Do you know if he had any relatives?"

"None living. The Church will see to his funeral arrangments." She stood. The hem of her tunic was sticky with blood. Ranses Firehand had been scorched, slashed, and torn open before his attackers had finished with his body. It was barely recognizable.

"Do you recognize anything as missing?" the watch captain asked.

She swallowed a bitter remark. "Nothing physical that I can see," she said, "but they took his soul."

"They what?"

"They tore his soul out. He is beyond the reach of even my powers."

"Ilmatar have mercy," he whispered.

"He cannot," she said. There is nothing here to be merciful to. "Ranses didn't have enemies that were anywhere close to powerful to do this. They wanted something from him and they wanted to cover their tracks."

"What could that be?"

"A piece of lore. A key to some higher magic. That's the only thing he possessed that was worth doing this over. The killers will be quite beyond your reach captain, even if they are still in the city. Some of my brethren will be by to collect the body when you are finished here."

"You said it was lore they would have been after. What lore did he possess that others didn't?"

"He was a specialist in the Crown Wars."

"But he was human."

A grim half smile touched her lips. "Only humans want to know about the Crown Wars captain. The elves want to forget."

"Thank you for your time mistress."

"You're welcome captain, but I'm not finished."

"Oh?"

"One of the faithful has been murdered and dangerous lore may be loose. My tasks are just beginning."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Intriguing," said Nalifan. "I'm involved in a project of my own at the moment. We are in the allocate-the-spoils phase. Oh, the paladin off the side is Lord Geharis. His associate Morfindel is the glass statue over there. Please don't shatter him."

Mikos raised an eyebrow. "Settled?"

"Yes," Nalifan replied. He turned towards Fadina. "Do go on."

"In private," she said.

"As you wish. Shall we walk over the hill?"

"Alright."

He held out his hand. "Shall we?" The two mages exited the cemetary and began walking down the hill. "Far enough?"

"I suppose," she replied. She stopped and reached into an impossibly deep pocket of her robe. She pulled out a leather wrapped bundle about the size of large book. She pulled away the leather to reveal a thin slab of jagged mithril.

He let out a long whistle. "Nice, but you certainly don't need me to evaluate the market price of mithril."

"This was retrieved by a party of adventurers in the vicinity of the Lake of Steam. A tower appeared out of thin air and exploded. A number of monsters appeared in the area, which made the treasure hunting quite hazardous. Among the items they found was this."

"The group in question came back to Calimshan to sell their loot. They had some idea of how valuable this was and it cost me a lot of money to obtain this."

"Somehow I expect you didn't buy it for the metal."

"No. The other side has Ilythiiri symbols on it." She turned the plate around. It was covered in line after line of tiny symbols. "You can understand the infrence I made."

"To record magic on mithril plate is ludicrous. The only way it makes sense is if the magic was so powerful that even recording it strained the substance of the materials or the knowledge so valuable that the cost of inscribing it on mithril becomes worth while. High magic."

"Only one people retain knowledge of Ilythiiri high magic."

"You are wrong," he replied. "The drow have forgotten much of their heritage. The shame of having fallen from such heights of their ancestors, the stigma of defeat, and the memory of a culture where wizards held power has been surpressed for a variety of reasons. Millenia have been spent forgetting."

"So you can't help."

He smiled, showing a lot of white teeth. "I didn't say that. Wizards aren't ordinary people. They try to remember or repossess the magical lore of old. My education was extremely thourough and expensive. And I'm not you're average wizard."

[LadyTevar]

Well done! Perfectly Kaeryn.

[Rogue 9]

Fun. So, how long do I have to stand around to get him de-glassified?

[Ford Prefect]

The plot, as they say, thickens sort of like congealing blood.

[Imperial Overlord]

In answer to Rogue's question:

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."
"

[Imperial Overlord]

Sylvetria was waiting as Trizkel floated back up. "What did he have to say?" she asked. She was dressed now and her sword was held nonchalantly in her hand.

"What did he have to say?" she asked. She wasn't particularily squeemish, but she had no desire to watch an interrogation/torture session if she didn't have to. Not that she wouldn't do it if she had to. Vaasa produced few shrinking violets.

"Mercenary out of Calimshan. He got hired by blue robe, whose name happens to be Mehmen Skycloak, for a snatch and grab. They wanted both of us alive."

She nodded. "Why?"

"He didn't know, but that doesn't matter. The answer is obvious. You're a hostage to keep me under control and I'm a hostage to force Nalifan's cooperation."

"Sounds right," she agreed. The drow knelt and began stripping jewelry off red robe.

"Here," he said as he tossed her a gold band. "Put it on."

"What is it?" she asked. Writing in a flowing script that she could not read marked the inside and the outside of the band.

"It has the same aura as the deflecting rings that Nalifan and I wear. We'll worry about the rest latter."

"What's our next move. Back to the manse or somewhere else to link up with Nalifan?"

"Funny you should ask . . . " he replied.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The two mages walked back up the hill. "It's settled," said Nalifan. "Doriaz the staff and book are yours. Drop off a copy of the spellbook at your leisure."

The necromancer turned towards the drow. "That must be a very big fish she brought."

Nalifan grinned. "Yes indeed. It puts me in a generous mood."

"When are we leaving?" asked Mikos.

"Almost ready. Lord Gaheris, it has been a pleasure, other than that part where your retainer shot me in the face."

"Grave robbing is not without its hazards," the paladin replied.

"Quite. I'll save you some anxiety." He uttered a stream of syllables and the colour returned to Morfindel's flesh. The elf began to move again as the drow spoke another spell. Nalifan, Mikos, and Fadina dissappeared. There was a loud popping sound as air rushed into the void.

"I suggest you get moving," said Gaheris to Doriaz. "You kind isn't welcome in these parts. If you ever come back you had better leave the undead behind."

"I hear you," said Doriaz. "I'll be gone by morning."

Morfindel moved up to his liege. "What did I miss?"

"You got turned to glass and I got overpowered. It turns out that our grave robbers were stealing tainted magic and it wasn't likely to do much damage in their hands. We managed to reach an agreement I could live with."

"Alright. Anything else?"

"The drow said we are going to lose in Westgate."

"He's wrong. We'll win. Not that it will be easy."

"I agree, but he did have interesting advice. It may be beneficial to pursue several additional avenues . . . ."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Stars blazed blue-white in the darkened room. When they faded they left a faint red after glow and Kaeryn stood in what had been empty space. An olive skinned man in a sky blue robe bowed to her. He wore a blue and white striped robe. His hair and beard were black and trimmed short. "Welcome, my lady."

She bowed back. "Thank you, but there is no need to be so formal. Call me Kaeryn."

"As you wish Kaeryn. I'm surprised to see you so quickly."

"I suspect I have only found the tip of the iceberg, as the Sword Coaster's say. Thank you for responding to my request so quickly Zasheir."

He nodded. "Will you follow me?" he said walking towards the exit. "I know our climate can be hard on those who have adjusted to it. Through the Lady's grace, we have some cooled drinks which may ease your discomfort."

"That would be pleasant, thank you." She followed the high priest out of the meditation chamber, with its floor mosiac of a red waterfall and a circle of seven stars. The large chamber seven glassed over skylights for Mystra's seven stars and a long red carpet. An ancient and coldly serene white marble statue of Mystra's previous incarnation loomed twenty feet above the altar.

He lead her into a modestly decorated side room. He opened a wood lidded stone chest and removed a bottle of wine from the mass of ice chunks. Zaheir took two clay goblets off of a shelf and poured for both of them. "When I recieved your message I knew immediately what you were looking for. How far did you cast your net?"

"From Aglarond to Waterdeep," she responded. "I did not expect to get results within two hours."

"Two groups of adventurers have been selling artifacts of Ilythiiri providence from the Lake of Steam. Some of them turned out to be quite valuable. We did not examine all of them, but the ones I saw were mostly mundane. Those that were wrought by the Art were unspectacular."

"Whatever they have, it's very powerful."

"And knowing the Ilythiiri's reputation it is also dangerous. I do know that one item of considerable value ended up in the possession of High Mage Fadina."

Kaeryn took a sip of the wine. It was pleasantly chilled, although a little sweet for her taste. "What can you tell me about her?"

"She is a mage in good standing both with the temple and the city. She can be somewhat bitter and caustic and conceals his face behind a silver mask. She was once the apprentice of Adala Syel, the most respected wizard in the city."

"Do you know where she is know?"

"No. She has not been seen for days."

[Rogue 9]

In answer to Rogue's question:

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."
"

*Wonders if it would be faster to call up a cleric with dispel magic.*

Edit: Never mind; didn't read the chapter first.

[LadyTevar]

Imp? Did the chapter get cut off somehow?

[Rogue 9]

It's that way on Librium Arcana too (only without the extra l on the end).

[Imperial Overlord]

Sorry about that. Typo corrected.

[LadyTevar]

Sorry about that. Typo corrected.

oK, i WAS JUST WONDERING IF IT WENT ON FROM THERE.

Crap... forgot the caplock at work.

[Imperial Overlord]

oK, i WAS JUST WONDERING IF IT WENT ON FROM THERE.

Crap... forgot the caplock at work.

Next installment. I want the reader to dwell on the possibility that Fadina might be Kaeryn's murderer.

[Rogue 9]

Erm... Kaeryn seems to be still alive.

[Imperial Overlord]

Erm... Kaeryn seems to be still alive.

The one she's tracking you self important punk.

[Ford Prefect]

Are there any monks coming? I like monks, monks are cool.

[Rogue 9]

Are there any monks coming? I like monks, monks are cool.

Well, Gaheris operates out of an abbey, so if the focus returns to him then probably. But as he's most definitely not a main character as far as this story is concerned, it might not.

[Imperial Overlord]

Are there any monks coming? I like monks, monks are cool.

I don't.