**********

”Blind we were beyond reason. Lost among the clouds. Doom had come to Rysinal and we mocked it even at our door.
We of the east. We… who were the lords of all and the kings of nothing."

--Unknown Author The Librus Pelagius

CHAPTER TWO
The Deeds That Bound Us

Dúlin looked around at the remaining people in the Lord Mi’zral’s meeting hall. There was an elvish Lady who ran the gypsy caravan she was slightly injured from yesterday but otherwise fine. He looked at the Dwarf seated next to her. Dúlin wasn’t sure what he was but he was glad for the gift, a cloak that made him nearly invisible in the night. It was a … useful gift. Moving on he saw a gypsy girl she was normal almost to the extreme but she had strange eyes that would have unnerved him if he cared. Next to her was the hunter who had saved his life. He still owed the man and he would repay it if it killed him, he hated debts. Dúlin’s eyes passed over the Shadowlancer he didn’t like soldiers of any order they tended to hunt people like him.

He looked straight at Lord Mi’zral “My name is Dúlin and I have a question for you, you said the seer Hammon entrusted you with the secret of the eye? Well I have the eye in question” Dúlin said as he pulled the eye out of his pocket and held it to the light. “And I was given this by Seer Hammon as he died. He asked me to return it to the Order in Kryn.” Dúlin spoke as he pocketed the eye once again. “Since Lady Fey Goddess of fate has seen to it that the eye landed in my hands I will personally return it.” Looking to Lisha Corrhay and tilting his head he spoke “M’Lady since I need to return this eye and your headed to Kryn I will be joining you, if you’ll have me.”

Dúlin looked away from Lisha Corrhay and at the whole group gathered around him and waited for someone to speak.

As Alazius stood in the hall, he glanced at the other three people that also received gifts. He saw the doctor he aided the previous night receive the strange cloak. Light shimmered across the ebony fabric as he pondered what possible purpose he would have for such an artifact. Alazius noted the ill expressions that resonated from the noble’s eyes as Dulin accepted the cloak. The ranger decided to keep an eye on him.

Alazius examined the elven knight as Lady Elsah approached him. His black armor shone with a metallic hue while his eyes echoed a scarring tragedy that Alazius recognized all too well. When his blade vanished, Alazius raised his eyebrow in fascination. He had seen the use of magic a handful of times in his lifespan, both trivial and abundant. To him it was a tool that he lacked the knowledge to use – an accepted ignorance to himself – a tool that could be used for good… or for evil.

His grip on the shoulder strap of his pack tightened.

Finally the two nobles came to Alazius. Their superfluous and extravagant clothing stood in sharp contrast to the handmade leather and wool garments that sheltered him from the harsh elements for so many years. Liufr sat at his feet with his tail wrapped around his canine legs and glanced between the strangers and his master. Alazius silently reached down and scratched him behind the ears as they spoke.

“No thanks are necessary, sir,” said Alazius, inclining his head, “I simply did what I thought was the right thing – an obligation for us all. Besides, I could not have accomplished it without the aid of Liufr. He is the one who pulled you out from beneath the wagon, Ambassador. However, I will accept your gift, and will make sure these arrows are used only in the direst of circumstances.”

With that he accepted the box and removed one of the arrows. Alazius traced his finger across the shaft and head, examining the craftsmanship and material. After the examination he placed it in the case and then hooked the container beneath his arm.

Riona gazed around the great hall. Even after the tremendous damages, its beauty still remained unparalleled to any other room she set foot in. She would have spent the whole time looking if she hadn't seen Lady Elsah. Her throat tightened and tears welled in her eyes. Her feet shifted as she willed herself to quell the urge to squeal and embrace her. Two men commenced to speak and to celebrate her friend's survival now felt improper. She admired the cloak handed to the doctor and applauded with the others on his heroism. She wished that she possessed the same quality.

Then she was called fourth and she started feeling nervous. In her head, she was already stammering excuses to the Lady. Was she conscious at the time Riona saw her? Did she see her turn tail and flee with just a baby in her arms? She wanted to explain. The storm was coming quick and she couldn't haul an adult body with one arm. She wasn't strong enough to save her friend and that thought stabbed at her heart.

She stood before the lady now and the tears flowed freely. She threw her arms around the old elf. "I'm so happy you're alright" Her emotional state seemed to have made her slightly deaf as well. Did she just hear her say proud? She took a baby to shelter. Granted, all life is sacred, and saving a life is commendable, but she didn't understand how it stacked up to the brave soldiers that made sure there was enough room along the east wall for the citizens before they took shelter. Some brave souls even faced the storm itself to rescue people. She felt like she should have done more.

But Elsah was safe and there was no need to regurgitate these thoughts right now. Not feeling up to par was a default emotion the the Lady scolded any time Riona said so out loud. She started to feel little awkward. Elsah had been quiet a little too long and she could feel the gaze of everyone in the room focus their attention on her.

As if the Lady could sense what she felt, she reassured her before speaking the ancient tongue. She felt the cool, metal box fall into her hands. It was gold with rather ornate decor on the sides. Turning it in her hands, she found no key or other means by which to wind it up. She looked at the lid. No beauty graced it like the sides. There was only some strange symbol carved at the top. Riona felt something in her heart stir. Gold flickered in her eyes briefly like candlelight. She didn't know why, but she knew this symbol was very sacred. She could remember seeing it someplace else. Maybe on an altar? But where? She tried opening it, but the hinge wouldn't give. She heard a soft click and could feel the gears begin to turn and whirr. However, not a sound came from the box. She didn't know why she was being given this gift, but she bowed, trusting the wise Lady. "Thank you, marm."

She took her place back in the crowd. Reality took no time in settling back in. The applause faded and the smiling faces turned away as she looked at everyone. She had expected it, but just for a moment, people actually admired her. The only ones still cheering were the women with the baby she saved. She smiled and waved to them.

Next to stand before Lady Elsah was Keras. Once again she had to fend off her excitement as she saw another member of her party be granted with a gift. What a marvelous gift indeed and she couldn't think of a better recipient. The man bordered obsessiveness when it came to his armor and sword. Even in the worst weather, it shined. He seemed to be just as obsessive of maintaining his skill and was often seen practicing with his companions. She couldn't recall a time when she ever spoke with him about anything less trivial than the weather (even with the gypsies she didn't talk to too many people) but she was proud all the same. Gypsies and those associated with them tend to have a bad reputation amongst the general public. It felt nice to see that reputation take a turn for her party.

She wanted to leave with the crowd when they got dismissed, but she remained wondering what was the significance of all of these gifts. She watched the exchange between the doctor, Lord Mi'zrial, and Lisha. She felt the gears in her box begin to turn again.

The assassin gaining the gift of invisibility, the ranger tracking arrows, and the gypsy an ancient golden ornate box. These were unique gifts that the others have gained, and Keras had observed in silence throughout each passing. However, he had recognized the box that Lady Elsah had handed to the gypsy. Keras had seen her once before - she was the one who had a package in her arms during the storm.

He wasn't fond of the assassin gaining an invisibility cloak, due to the profession that he has taken. The profession to take lives, while Keras was trained to save. He hasn't seen the ranger until this very moment, and he was curious as to what he had done to gain such arrows. The shadowlancer didn't personally know the gypsy, even though they were from the same party, but he was still required to protect her, as per it was his honor and one of the charges placed upon him...

“Take out your greatsword Sir Nyspar.”

The sudden request from Lady Elsah had startled him somewhat, but not enough to make him to project such "emotion". Doing so, he obliged, handing Retribution to her. The blade was still dull and somewhat damaged from earlier events, though his armor shined brighter then ever. This was because he had yet to polish and sharpen the blade.

Keras observed as his Lady unclasped a green jewel from her neckless, pressing it into the blade's emerald. Suddenly, the jewel shattered within her palm, turning into dust, a smile appearing on her face.

“Drop the blade Keras. Don’t worry, just watch.”

He did so, letting his grip loosen from the weapon, the blade dropping blade first towards the ground. But before it touched the ground, it vanished. Replacing where the blade once was hovered a green mist, slowly floating in place, followed with Elsah's hand into his chest.

“Will it to return, and within 3 heartbeats it will be in your hand… you may be the first shadowlancer of your generation to bare such a weapon, use these new found methods wisely in battle.”

The mist floated up towards his hand, where the blade was before he had dropped it. It had taken a form of a blade similar to that of his runeblade, and condensed, Retribution appearing once more within his grasp.

Watching what had just transpired within the last thirty seconds, he said no words of gratitude, his silence was more than enough. Elsah had enchanted his blade, the enchantment known as mistform, an ancient Elven magic designed for keeping possession of personal items of great value.

As the crowd around them began to disperse, he gazed towards at the other three, however holding it slightly longer at the gypsy before turning away. She seemed familiar, yet unknown to him, but Keras had refused to let that bother him. They were asked to stay, but for what reason, Keras couldn't say. His plans would have to wait for now...

The doctor's words fell on solemn ears.

Mi'zral nodded broodingly as Dulin spoke, "I have lost too much to recount this day. And the people of Bardusk much more then I." He looked over and down at the emissary to his right, "Once you reach Kryn please see to it that the Order receives the good doctor. No misunderstandings on the late Seer's part, and as to why this man has his eye."
Mi'zral looked back to the man in the mask, "I do not know you. And I would sooner not. Yours is path I would much rather not travel. I can only hope that the resolution with which you say your words is how adamantly you hold to them."

With that Lisha stepped up, "You have my word High Lord." She glanced at the doctor, "There is much to set right in the coming days. Kryn will hear of what happened here. I will make it known."

She turned to the ranger Alazius then, "This is where I ask for your assistance good sir." Emissary Lisha went on to explain how her escort was found buried in rubble and the wagons of her entourage mangled.
"The road west is perilous, as you know. My offer as it stands: Arrange our trip with those departing with us, and see to our safety. Be my personal escort to the city, and I will see to it you are reward by the council in Kryn. Not in the least for saving my life."
There was something else on her lips, but she held back, deciding rather to not speak of it.

While the delegate had been talking, Mi'zral it seemed was conferring with Lady Elsah and Lord Ikin in private.

Soon thereafter both the Elf and Dwarf rejoined the group proper, but Lord Mi'zral himself tread a hasty retreat, excusing himself as the demands of the day were piling up at the door.

"It wouldn't look it, but he's a simple one." Lady Elsah remarked, watching Mi'zral depart, before turning to Riona, "He doesn't like mystery. Straight and to the point are his methods. Unlike the rest of us standing here." She smiled a small smile, "That is besides you."

"What the Lady means, lass, is that things are more.. complicated then what the emissary or Mi'zral thought." Ikin spoke up, picking at his beard, "I'll be heading west as well, seeing how I've lost much of what I was hoping to sell, and the council still owes me a couple favors."

The dwarf glanced about at the odd gathering of folk, all brought together by the machinations of fate... that and the dying whims of an old monk.

Lady Elash watched the dwarf in turn, "Yes, it seems fate does conspire." To Riona she then said, "We recovered the Seer's satchel. Among the broken items was a notebook, bound in leather, of particular interest. The words written within are of an old elven dialect."

At that Ikin huffed but held his tongue.

Eying the stocky little man with a light smirk Elsah continued, "Be so kind as to hold on to it for me Riona my dear. Keep it safe."
The Lady Elf motioned a couple of helpers by the doors, "By the way, did I mention we'll be heading west as well."

"As such, I don't suppose I can bother my savior for his aid in this... endeavor?" Elsah brought her hands before her, in the customary elven sign of praise.

The shadowlancer had been quiet the entire meeting. It was his way, and the Lady gave it the respect it was due. But she would need him to speak on the matter.

"There may be some answers for you in our travels as well." She offered.


**********


All the while Lord Valkylin hovered admits the group, giving a nod here, a smile there, and a few ponderous looks in between.
But not a word else wise did the man speak.

Uri groaned heavily as he pulled himself down from a mule somewhere in the back of Ikin's caravan. Of all the people that the caravan he joined could have belonged to, it had to have been the dwarf he was attempting to get away from. Uri watched as the other workers jumped down from their positions and started to work. Hauling boxes, tying up and feeding the animals, and most of all, being completely distracted. It was the opportunity Uri had been waiting for, and he was quick in response. Uri quietly made his way from wagon to wagon, animal to animal, liberating small packages and containers from their spots hidden amongst the legitimate cargo of the caravan. Each item that was liberated, was just as quietly replaced in the satchels and crates strapped to his mule.

After making the rounds of the entire caravan, his mule loaded up with enough stuff that he could no longer ride it, Uri smacked the mule on it's backside and tugged at it's reins, leading it out of town as quietly as one can lead a mule that had been enjoying a good meal only seconds ago. Luckily for Uri they had arrived a day late and many of the festivities were in full swing. The noise of the crowd drowned out the annoyed protests of his unwitting accomplice, as well as kept him hidden from view. With how big the humans, and the few elves, were Uri didn't have the slightest worry at being spotted by anyone that would have known he wasn't doing what he ought to be doing.

Several minutes and a few hundred curses later, Uri finally found himself out of the crowd and outside of the city walls. He gazed upon the vast, almost empty fields the stretched before him. When the caravan had first exited the mountains into the plains, Uri was dumbstruck. If he had not been riding a mule attached to a wagon, he may have been left behind. The green grasses stretching in every direction, dotted here and there by trees and stones, roads and sign posts. He felt no safety in these exposed fields, with hiding places few and far between. It was a place for running, or fighting, and he wasn't much for a fair fight. After a few days he had settled down, and now only felt an unsettling discontent at being so exposed, sticking out like a big hairy brown lump in an ocean of green. With a deep breath, Uri took the first step back into the emerald abyss, and made his way directly for the closest thing, besides grass, to the city walls. He trudged straight towards a large Oak tree, standing defiantly against the overall conformity of the landscape only a few hundred feet from the gate he had exited from. It was the longest walk of his life, the mule stopping to try and graze at every available opportunity, drawing many more curses from the small dwarf as he struggled to force the stubborn ass along.

Upon finally reaching the tree Uri was quite out of breath, dragging along the mule was hard enough work, but constantly shouting obscenities at it never helped any. Before Uri could tie the mule to the tree it had begun nibbling on the grasses at it's base. This caused Uri to just skip that step altogether, instead sitting down in the shade of the oak and pulling a polished steel flask from a hidden pocket. Carefully unscrewing the top the strong kick of hard liquor and the musty smell of a dank cave flooded out of the container, causing Uri to sigh heavily before taking a long swig and replacing the cap. "Aye," he muttered, pulling himself up and walking over to the mule, "back to bloody work then."

With the quick, deft hand movements that were necessary to ply his trade, Uri had untied the several ropes that strapped the cargo to the mule and quickly began unloading. He moved all of what he carried to the side of the tree opposite the city, making sure that his precious items were not visible from the cities exterior. When he was satisfied with their placement, Uri grabbed the longest rope up from the ground and began fastening a small rock to the end of it. His task was interrupted by a loud and terrified shrieking noise coming from the direction of the mule. Uri looked up to see it running full bore back to the city, as if Torog himself chased behind it. Uri froze where he stood and tightly gripped the rock in one hand, his other slipping into a nearly invisible slit in his pants.

With a quick spin around Uri brandished a small blade and a rock, yelling furiously in an attempt to catch his assailant off guard. The sight that awaited him was not what he expected. The inky black clouds that flowed angrily over the horizon made his blood run cold and his hands go numb. The blade and the rock made little noise as they fell from his hands to the ground. Terror drove him, drove his thoughts, his movements and the excessive string of the foulest of words the dwarven language had to offer, so foul it would make a drunk miner blush. He worked frantically, his hands steady even with all the adrenaline and fear that fueled their rapid movements.

Uri ripped open the crates and packages, removing items of clothing and throwing on as many as he could, so as to protect him from the cold and the smaller chunks of ice. He removed several small pouches that jingled with the distinct and beautiful song of gold on gold, shoving them in pockets and strapping them to belt loops, trying to add weight to protect him from the winds. He pulled out a small golden disc, a mere six inches in diameter, the face lined with several polished gems, through which were visible several small silver gears. In the center of the disc were several small characters painted in glittering emerald paint. It was for this he left the safety of the mountains and he was damned if he was going to just leave it to the mercy of an elder storm. The last thing Uri did was stare longingly at a cask that lie at the bottom of the largest crate.

Uri was dragged from his last goodbyes as the winds began to pick up, the leaves of the tree shaking and flying off, the blades of grass whipping at his heavily clothed and weighed down body. With a final look Uri grabbed the large crate and tipped it over, his cask rolling out and clattering against the tree, securing it over his head just as a large branch fell crashing to the ground beside him, a large shard of ice sticking out of it. With a final stream of dwarven filth, he began running as fast as he could straight back to the city. The sounds of the heavy rain thudding against the crate he held over his head made him cringe, the pieces of ice that shattered against the wood made him curse.

Uri felt the winds pick up from behind him, he wasn't moving fast enough, but the extra weight seemed to be keeping him on the ground. No sooner had this thought entered Uri's mind before he felt his left foot slip out from under him, a piece of ice skidding off into the distance. With his traction gone, Uri no longer held the advantage. The wind kicked up into the box, pushing Uri ever faster to the city walls, sliding on wet grass and mud. It took all of his concentration and strength just to keep the box over his head, ice chunks still crashing into it, though more and more of them were striking his padded form. He could feel the bruises forming already. Uri had no breath left for cursing, though his lips continued to try, as the wind kicked up again and he was lifted from the ground, only a few dozen feet from the walls, and flung with great speed through the gates of the city.

Uri made contact with glass, a window to some building, he couldn't rightly care which. the glass slowed him and the building offered him momentary protection. Uri's thoughts ended with a sudden and terrible crash as he hit the opposite wall, his consciousness fading to black. The last thing he saw were several gold coins rolling away from him.



Uri came to in a large building, his entire body was sore. The air was filled with the groaning of the injured, the whimpering of the dying, and the wailing of the left behind. It was all giving Uri a headache. As his memories returned to him of the minutes before he lost consciousness, he quickly patted his body from top to bottom. He felt one or two coin purses still hidden away, but many were empty, holes in the bottoms and sides. He cursed, the dwarven phrase lost in the horrible din of the building. Uri shivered as a breeze blew past him, bringing his attention to a collapsed wall on the far side of the building, across a sea of the dead and dying. Uri removed the top several layers of clothing, everything but the bottom-most few layers left in tatters. The frown on his face was slowly replaced by a smile as he examined himself, slowly pulling out his most valuable bauble, the small gold disc was still in perfect condition. Uri certainly would miss all the gold that he knew by now had been looted by others with his same mentality, but if there was one thing he valued more than monetary wealth, it was living. Also, living and having wealth was even better. He used one of the wet and tattered rags of former clothes to polish the gold disc before returning it to his person.

Uri's attention was grabbed by an old man, either quite dead or the deepest sleeping and most pale man Uri had ever seen, that lay next to him. What grabbed his attention was not the man, his paleness, or his age, it was the small glittering gold chain around his neck, a gem encrusted symbol of Avandra hanging delicately from it. It was wrong for something so lovely to rest with the dead. After all, what use do they have for it. It was a wrong Uri felt he had to right. Uri leaned down next to the man and looked very much like he was paying his last respects. Adjusting the dead man and straightening out his clothes. When he pulled away a small gold ring was around his finger, and the necklace had switched necks.

Uri was pleased with his new found little treasure, barely keeping from fingering the pendant as he slowly made his way through the moaning crowds. Uri was stopped suddenly by a weak voice from below him. The whispering voice caught his ear more for the air of nobility within it than any other quality. Nobility meant wealth, wealth meant treasure, and this place made that a dying noble, possibly covered in gold. Uri knelt down low by the older woman, his eyes drawn to several gold chains and rings that adorned her neck and fingers. He barely noticed the severe injuries the woman was suffering from. "Please..." The woman rasped. "Good dwarf, please give me a prayer for my journey."

The woman was eerily accepting of her fate, which unnerved Uri just a bit. However, the glitter of gold and gems struck the nerve right back into him as he took the old woman's hands and held them tightly. "Of course good woman, I apologize but I only know the prayers in dwarven, if that is alright." The old woman nodded weakly, she just wanted one final blessing before being sent to the final unknown. Uri began muttering quietly in dwarven, absolute nonsense had the woman understood a word of it, but she looked at him thankfully and blissfully ignorant. Uri continued, placing her now unadorned hands beside her and moving one hand to her chest, just below her neck, continuing to speak in dwarven. His other hand made a pass over his pockets, a light jingling muffled by the fabric as he deposited the rings inside. He leaned in close and placed both hands on her shoulders, giving her a light brushing kiss on the forehead, the only thing he could think of to get close enough to get the many glittering chains. As he pulled away he muttered a final phrase in dwarven, and then spoke in the common tongue, "May your journey be peaceful and bring you happiness." The once glittering woman closed her eyes peacefully and drifted from the world, and Uri drifted from her body, many more necklaces hanging from his neck, and a few more rings on his fingers.

Uri paused as he heard another person calling for a priest near him. A small smile crossed his lips, he might be able to make back everything the storm took from him.


Uri finally emerged from the building glittering in the golden sunlight. Adorned like a true man of the cloth, rings on every finger, bracelets of gold hanging on each wrist, and several golden necklaces hanging around his neck. He quickly stuffed the necklaces down his shirt, and his long sleeves hid the bracelets, but he rather liked the many rings. Several more filled his pockets, Uri having made sure to not wear anything bearing a house seal or being too easily identifiable. He took a deep breath of the dust and blood filled air, and it was the sweetest air he'd breathed in a long time. Even when he hurt all over, life was better with a little loot.

Dúlin listened quietly as the group discussed what path to take to get to Kryn. His mind began to drift he was tired he’d been up for most of two days. The path they would take didn’t matter to him he was going along for the trip to complete one task but he had one thing on his mind, it was the look that the young nobleman Lord Vincent had given him. If he was a normal doctor he wouldn’t have thought anything of it but he was he wasn’t a normal doctor he made his task to stay alive and safe. The smile Lord Vincent had given him would have been interpreted by most as a happy smile but the smile was cold and Vincent’s eyes had been full of anger.

His mind began to look at the enemies he had made over the years, he tried to connect Vincent with any of them but most of his kills had left everyone involved wondering who had killed the target. He had never taken a job with any obvious links to this city or its lords. If it wasn’t an assassination that had gotten Vincent angry at him it must have been something he had done as a doctor, Dúlin reasoned in his mind. He his mind blurred and the images of Lord Vincent and his most recent patients began to blur superimposing themselves on one another. Suddenly it fell into place causing him to sit up straight the realization like an electric shock awakening him out of his half-awake state. The Lady he had ignored to treat the other man during the storm was related to Lord Vincent, judging from the facial features they were siblings.

Looking around no one had noticed his sudden movement. He swore to himself he had made an enemy of a Lord one with a lot of money. He stood up slowly clearing his throat to speak “If we are going to Kryn tomorrow, I have things I must take care of to prepare I beg to be excused” without waiting for a response he turned and headed to the door his face limp and hunched back had returned he needed to keep up his disguise for now it was how anyone knew him.

He slipped out a servant entrance not wanting to go out the front door and attract attention. Once he was out of sight of the manor he stopped. For anyone watching it would look like he was catching his breath but he was observing his surroundings looking for anything unusual. He noticed as man who had been near the servant’s entrance when he had been leaving the manor. The man was out of place in this neighborhood he was poor, too poor to be a servant and poor enough to be desperate; desperate enough to kill a man for the shirt off his back especially after an Elder Storm.
Dúlin continued on his way pretending to ignore the man as he walked down the main road towards his home. He made a turn into an alley and waited for the man to round the corner were Dúlin was waiting. Before the man knew what hit him Dúlin had an arm around the man’s neck the crook of Dúlin’s elbow on the man’s trachea cutting off his breathing. The man struggled against the hold but Dúlin waited till the man stopped struggling before he released the now lifeless body. He bent over and found a small fortune in coins on the man’s belt as well as a dagger of high quality worth more than the man made in a year.

He swore in Elvish, this man was hired to kill him. He turned and ran down the alley to get away from the body and to get home. He traversed the maze between buildings using his actual considerable speed to cover the distance quickly. Dúlin feared Vincent will have found his abode and placed men outside incase Dúlin had managed to return to it. He slowed down as he got close to the hole in the wall of an inn he was staying at. He pulled his new cloak about himself there was still day light but there were tall shadows he hoped he could hide in. He looked around the corner trying to get a view of the back of the inn where is cart would be stored. Dúlin swore when he saw four men armed with clubs and daggers around the back of the inn waiting.

Dúlin felt a pair of hands on his back as he was pushed into the open towards the four armed men. He stumbled looking behind himself he saw a fifth man armed like the other, smiling wickedly. “Let’s have some fun with this old coot.” Laughing the others turned towards him hoisting their clubs. The men circled him three hanging back and two of them right in front of him. One man raised his club laughing at that moment Dúlin acted. The man stumbled back his club falling from the man’s hand as he fell down looking at the dagger in his stomach. Dúlin didn’t stop there his second dagger was already in the second man, Dúlin launched himself towards the third man drawing his last knife and new Elven sword. The man had raised his club but the Elvish blade sliced through the club and into the man’s skull. The last two men had finally reacted both had their clubs and daggers out. They charged Dúlin one on either side of him. As the men brought their clubs down Dúlin brought his foot across in a sweeping kick to the men’s feet dropping both men to the ground. He slammed his blade and dagger into the backs of the men silencing them swearing he looted the bodies he would have to get out of here and find a place to lay low till he could meet up with the party traveling to Kryn in the morning.

It wouldn’t be a good night for Dúlin and it wasn’t even dark yet.

Alazius observed the Emissary as she spoke and regarded her request. There was something about the woman that seemed familiar – something that made him feel comfortable, yet uneasy. He felt a certain aura about her, a youthful beauty and childlike disposition hidden beneath a thin but rigid veil of diplomatic professionalism. Hers resembled a face he had seen before – a face burned into the recesses of his mind – cold and lifeless.

Immediately the ranger shunned the image from his mind and returned his focus back to Lesha’s request. After a short moment he nodded.

“Aye, milady,” he said, “the road is very dangerous, especially this time of year. Merciless bandits and hungry beasts prowl the roads in search of unsuspecting, unprepared, and defenseless prey. However, I am aware of a few routes where bandit ambushes are seldom encountered, but they will require traversing the wilderness somewhat. Fortunately I am well acquainted with the wilds. I would suggest wearing something suitable for traveling on foot and off-road.”

Riona smiled back at the Lady. True, she wasn't one for mysteries either. All she craved was the simple and predictible, but how could such a life be achived as a walking anomaly? The unpredicable stalked her and leapt out unexpectedly when her own strangeness wasn't enough. She felt like a simple country girl and had simple country girl dreams. She just wanted her own home in a village that would happily take her. It seemed as if her path was turning in the opposite direction.

Complicated...that word pretty much sumed up her entire existence. She wondered if it were some sort of curse she brought down upon the entire group. She nodded, eyes somewhat glazed ove in thought. “I understand.” She plucked up a bit of courage and turned to the dwarf. She smiled. “I hope you have a safe journey, noble dwarf.”

Riona took the aged leather notebook in her hands. She toyed with the leather ties that kept the book closed. Two mysterious items were now in her possession. She had no urge to open the book, at least not yet. Curiosity had a tendency to put her in deeper holes than she managed to put herself in. Besides, the only elven word she knew was the word for “goat.”

“I certainly shall, M'Lady.” she said and tucked the book beneath her arm. The Lady had failed to mention that they would be travelling West as well. The news finally sparked some curiosity about the notebook. Was it related to the journey? Couldnt the emissary return it? “We're leaving so soon? How are we to travel without our wagons?” She gasped “Oh! What about the rest of our party? Have you seen any other survivors?” She blurted almost in another panic. How could she have forgotten the others?

Keras was about to speak, having already thought about what words he would use, on how he is highly opposed to having an assassin having the eye in his position. He didn't trust, nor will trust the man, simply because he has hidden the fact this entire time. After all, what else could he be hiding behind that mask? The shadowlancer opened his mouth, words ready to roll off from his tongue, until he was interrupted by another of the gypsy's panicked questions.

"Oh! What about the rest of our party? Have you seen any other survivors?"

Turning towards her, Keras' mind now completely flipped to a new subject of thought. "Don't worry much, it's quite detrimental to your health. I'm sure the others are fine. My remaining shadowlancers should be taking care of them as we speak." Turning back towards the group, he had continued, "I have to oppose to the idea of having the plague doctor having the eye in his possession. He's hiding something from the rest of us, and I... just don't trust him. Artifact or not, something just doesn't feel quite right about him."

Leaning over to lady Elsah, he whispered into her ear, "M'Lady, I am very certain that the plague doctor, is the very assassin that I have warned you about earlier. If he's with our 'party', despite having helpful abilities, we have to be extremely careful with him around us."

Returning back to his proper position and posture, he remembered about his previous engagement, "After we're done here, I need to return to a previous engagement with the local blacksmith and his family, and I also ask for the gypsy to accompany me there, if it's okay with you," he concluded, shifting his gaze towards the familiar, yet unknown, gypsy.

Uri rested on a section of collapsed wall, staring at the half collapsed manors and homes of the wealthiest in all of Bardusk. Of course this was the section receiving the most attention from the remaining guard, patrolling the homes and watching for looters, only a bare few helping those in actual need. Sure it made taking whatever he wanted from the downtrodden and the laborers trivial, but they rarely had much worth taking. Uri had already decided against such a venture, the risks far outweighed the rewards at the moment. He rested because he was sore all over. After the adrenaline and endorphins caused by his newest acquisitions, and whatever he might have been given while unconscious, wore off, he became more and more aware that his body was one massive bruise. Every move now elicited an exhalation of pained breath. He reached very slowly into his shirt and pulled out a battered and dented metal flask. He shook it a bit, the distinct sound of liquid inside. With a smile the dwarf unscrewed the cap and brought the flask to his lips and took several large swigs, draining the thing dry. Without even pulling the flask away from his mouth, Uri took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, his hand carrying the flask away as he did so.

Uri's eyes scanned his surroundings as he waited for his home brewed pain medication to kick in. He had been unconscious long enough that other looters had cleaned out most of the city. The more heavily guarded homes of the wealthy were the only thing that might still be worth perusing. A small smile began to creep across Uri's beard, a little liquid courage emboldening him. It started to seem more and more like a good idea. As the stiffness fled his muscles, Uri slowly lifted himself up and slid off the rubble and onto the ground, the soft thud of his landing followed by a sharp intake of breath at the sudden pain. With only a small grumble of a few foul words, Uri began to make his way up the road to the larger abodes.