The Other Collective

[Badstench]

This story takes place behind the red door, which opens to the Adventurer's Collective in Graldok.

You will find no Judges here, so breathe a sigh of relief.

Actually, don't breathe too deeply, for Judge Gallows is known to visit from time to time.

Feel free to add your own additions as whim dictates.

[Badstench]

"I prefer the northern clime," said the leather-clad adventurer who gave his name as Johnny. "The beer is colder and the women are warmer."

All eyes turned to the newcomer, all thirteen of them. It was Gadget, the one-eyed-mage, who spoke his opinion of the remark first.

"The beer is tasteless and the women are hairy."

Johnny's surname was Abercrombie, but no one knew this (apart from me, the writer, and now you, the reader). Johnny liked to call himself by the epithet spoken by his younger sister, which was 'Gone'.

Their mother would ask, "Where's Johnny? The wood needs chopping."

And she would say, "Johnny's gone."

Their father would grump, "Where's Johnny? I need help in the fields."

And she would answer, "Johnny's gone."

One day, Johnny went. He was gone from home and hearth, no more to help in the fields or chop wood. Not for Johnny the life of a farmer, no.

And from that day to this, he was known as Johnny Gone.

******************

Johnny Gone entered the Adventurer's Collective behind the red door and slunk into a corner. 'Slunking' is like slinking, only with a 'U'. The 'U' differentiates slinking from 'slunking' in a different way than spelling, mostly by the fact that a person who 'slunks' (as opposed to slinks) makes a point of being noticed while trying not to.

Unfortunately, the person who first noticed Johnny was the burly adventurer who tripped over him. It was Rokmokkara.

"You blathering imbecile," spat Rokmokkara from his prone position.

And Johnny's vocation as an adsventurer might have been cut ignominiously short by an angry blade had not Maree intervened.

"You bloody my floors and I'll make you mop it up," she warned.

Rokmokkara snarled at Maree and stomped out. His last words were, "I'm off to Trithik. The Collective at that city doesn't have a health code!"

Johnny picked himself off the floor and thanked Maree.

Maree scowled at him. "Thank me by buying a beer. Otherwise, get the hell out of my bar!"

Johnny bought a beer called Toe-Curler and moved to the empty table in the far corner of the room; a shadowed table.

That was his second mistake.

[zmflavius]

Historically, Ziard was a republic, with a very, very, repressive secret police. The reason for this is very simple, it being that the founders, despite their belief in a city-state permitting its citizens life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, also believed that the best way to secure this for their citizens was with a legal code un-equaled in harshness. Said legal code, of course, did nothing to curb crime but to drive minor criminals to desperate acts they would not do otherwise, and cause the creation of a criminal underground, to shelter said criminals from the harsh hand of the law. On the other hand, the exodus of minor criminals into organized crime also made it easier to check crime, for the reason that crime which actually had a head to cut off was easier to check than crime which was sporadic, which happened to be one of the reasons the Trithikian crackdown was ineffective, since when mindless brutality and an ineffective justice system go hand in hand, even murderers could rarely be held in prison for more than a few weeks, coming out with even more hatred for an oppressive mercenary police force, but without the impetus to seek shelter, due to the lack of danger criminals would face from Thane Pyrond's mercenaries, which often as not, were criminals themselves.

But I digress. The spectre of organized crime in Ziard precipitated the creation of the Organized Crime unit of the Ziard Department of Internal Affairs, which spent a great deal of its time beating up gangsters and looting their possessions. This, naturally, presented a great attraction to adventurers, especially those with nowhere else to go.

Marcus, better known by his moniker of Zmflavius, proved to be good enough at thrashing foes, but somewhat more importantly, finding foes to thrash, to rise through the ranks.

Incidentally, his arrival in Ziard was due to him finding foes in Tysa, through his own fault, whom he lacked the skill to thrash, also his fault.

The Director of the ZDIA, however, was unaware of this, and only knew that Zmflavius, as a former Tysian national, would be perfectly suited to any operations in Tysian soil.

Having made his way across the border to Graldok, Zmflavius stopped in the Adventurer's Collective, and nursed a tankard of Hammertongue, making it clear, he hoped, to all and sundry, that since he sat in the darkest corner of the Collective, he was less than eager for company, particularly if said company held some grudges against him from the past, and might interfere with his mission.

Something, which this adventurer, having sat down without invitation at the neighboring table, seemed to have failed to figure out.

[Badstench]

Johnny Gone was perplexed when the biggest man he'd ever seen dressed in spiked armour clanked to the table and rattled to an opposite seat.

He ignored Johnny while placing a serrated dagger on the table, followed by a pair of human eye-balls, an iron four-leafed clover and a small container of salt. He then gestured at the barmaid for a drink and levelled his gaze at Johnny.

"Two," was all he said.

"Two?" answered Johnny shakily. "What does that mean?"

"That's the number of minutes you have left to live if you don't get out of that chair."

"Why? There's no one else sitting here."

"True," answered the big man, "but in one minute and thirty seconds, my companion will walk through the red door, and if you're still sitting there after he's bought his beer, the mug might be shoved up your arse as you're thrown out."

Johnny goggled.

"One," spoke the man.

Hint gathered, Johnny promptly stood up. He turned his gaze toward the red door, waiting for the possesser of the seat to enter.

A minute ticked by, then another. The door remained closed. Johnny looked back at the burly man sitting at the table and saw his big grin.

"You were joshing me?"

*************

[Badstench]

Johnny Gone pulled his original seat back from the table and sat down defiantly. The big man continued to grin at him.

"So, this table doesn't have regular sitters?" asked Johnny Gone.

"Oh, sure it does," answered his opposite, "but they're all dead, so you may as well make yourself comfortable... if sitting in a dead man's chair offers you comfort."

Johnny Gone did exactly that with a show of bravado. After a moment, he leaned forward and asked, "Do you have a name?"

"Yep," answered the metalled one. "My name is Haryld de Boigne. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

Johhny Gone wrinkled his brow. "Haryld the Boing? No, I don't think so. What's a 'Boing'?

"Not 'Boing'! Boigne is my name. It's a very well known name in these parts. where are you from, little man?"

"I was born in the Royal City, Talinus," beamed Johnny Gone proudly.

"Ooo, good for you," smirked Haryld. "I've never been there myself, but I hear it's got lots of nobles poncing about the place."

"What? You've never visited the Royal City?"

Haryld heard the tone of dismissal from Johnny and levelled him with a warning stare. "The measure of a man is not taken by his affiliations, little man. I'm an adventurer! I have no need of big cities and poncing nobles. And anyway, you don't have the airs and graces of a city boy. You look more like a villager."

Johnny blushed. "Okay, my village lay on the outskirts of Talinus, but it was close enough. I went their often with my father."

Haryld de Boigne laughed. "I just bet you did... followed behind daddy like a good little serf, did you?"

Johhny's blush turned from embarassment to indignation. "The past is the past. I'm an adventurer now, just like you!"

"Are you indeed? Regale me with your adventures, then."

And Johnny gone was about to lie from his back teeth, but was interupted by the man sitting at the adjacent table...

[zmflavius]

"Ahem. If you don't mind, I am right now attempting to compile some...notes of mine. On a recent...adventure. So...do you mind taking your little natter someplace else?"

Even so, the wheels in his head were turning, as he digested the name, "De Boigne." Certainly, the name had popped up a few times in his briefing, but he was certain that there was nothing special attached to it. Of course he could hardly check his notes in public. Perhaps, he could simply head back to his room in the inn across the street, and review them there...

He was then aware of how much lighter his back pocket felt. The notes were gone.

He raised his ahead, looking accusingly at the pair in the table next to his...

[Elrond]

"Damn it, Maree! You charge double the price of the King's Alehouse in Talinus. The least you could do is fill up the tankard. Is this how you treat your favorite customer?" shouted a grey-haired man.

"Same old, grey Elrohir; always complaining about an empty tankard and the price. But never about the sacks of gold he carries from the marketplace after selling his loot!" retorted Maree with a smile.

"Yeah! It is always nice to visit Graldok's market. It has become a friendlier place without Iliok's shadow." replied Elrohir with a smile and a shake of the empty tankard.

Maree picked up a tray and a clean wood and glass mug, filled it halfway with ale, and strolled to Elrohir's table. As she placed the mug in front of him, she smirked, "Welcome back, Mr. Grey! When do you plan on buying a new cloak. We've seen enough of this grey one?"

Elrohir laughed out loud, "Another half-mug;" and went on to drain it. Then he looked up at Maree and asked, "How have you been Maree? And how are the gentlemen treating you tonight? No Rokk, I see. Where's the old fart?"

"That boy over there tripped over his boots and ruined his mood. He's gone for the night."

Elrohir glanced at the direction of the young man and saw him sitting red-faced opposite Haryld. "Looks like HDB has found a new novice to toy with! The lad will be on a fool's errand tomorrow morning. And from the look on Haryld's face; he's having a good time toying with the chap!"

"Yeah, the boy will be off on that fool's errand in the morning. A lad who doesn't see or smell Rokk's boots will fall for HDB's old trick ... every time!" responded Maree with a smirk.

Had Johnny Gone noticed, almost everyone in the collective turned their heads when they saw Haryld sit opposite to him. With his imposing figure and gruesome armor, HDB gave the impression of a hardened adventurer, especially on aspiring novices. And those were his favorite victims to hire on a wild chase in Bentlimb wood for a legendary gem, sword, shield, or helm.

Elrohir turned his head back towards Maree and said, "It has been a good day. My horses are relieved that they'll return to Barad Eithel without all that baggage. How much for this half-mug, Maree?"

"10 gold pieces; and only because you're an old friend!" replied Maree with her hands folded and a mischievous grin.

"WHAT?! I'll have to talk to old Marindol about your taxes. And he might charge you with theft if he drinks your ale and pays that price;" exclaimed Elrohir as he untied his coin pouch.

"But old Elrohir never tires of draining Marindol's city of gold. I'm sure I can convince him to hire more tax collector's in his marketplace;" retorted Maree.

"Peace, Maree! I'm no match for you tonight; or ever! Here are 15 gold pieces if you decide to forget about the additional tax collectors idea." responded Elrohir with a wide grin.

"Agreed, Mr. Grey! Marindol can think for himself for once! I won't volunteer to help him fill up his coffers." replied Maree as she pocketed the gold pieces.

"Maree, my offer still stands. The job of managing Barad Eithel is yours to take. If you manage it half as well as you manage this collective, I'm sure to be the Kingdom's richest man!" said Elrohir with some anticipation as he stood to leave.

With a wide smile, Maree said, "Thanks, old friend; but someone needs to keep Rokk's trouble at bay in the collective. But if you convince him to come with me to Barad Eithel, I might consider..."

Elrohir frowned, "The collective won't be the same without Rokk and his boots! You can enjoy as much of their company as you like." And with that he got up and headed towards the door.

The tray flew out of Maree's hands and hit the grey cloak square in the back!

Elrohir laughed out loud, "One day, Maree, I'll learn to keep my mouth shut ... one day ...."

[zmflavius]

(OOC: IS HDB a new character or one from past fanfics and rps?)

[Elrond]

(OOC: IS HDB a new character or one from past fanfics and rps?)

HDB is: Haryld de Boigne

[Badstench]

zmflavius asked:
OOC: IS HDB a new character or one from past fanfics and rps?
This story is his first appearance.

*****************************

The clatter made by the airborne serving tray as it bounced off the retreating back of Ellrohir Singolo and onto the floor was a slight distraction as Haryld de Boigne rummaged about in one of his pockets. After a moment he located what he was looking for and placed a pair of false teeth (not his own) on the table with the human eye-balls, the iron four-leafed clover and the container of salt.

"Those are my little 'natters'," he explained to Johnny Gone's querying eyebrows, "And I can assure you, sir," he added loudly for the benefit of the fellow at the next table, "I won't be taking them anywhere!"

Johnny Gone looked to see what effect this dismissal would provoke, but the stranger didn't seem to have heard the remark... he was looking perplexed as he searched among pockets for something of his own.

"Where are those danged notes", he was heard to mutter.

[zmflavius]

Eventually, he simply stood up and left.

He could hardly post a reward for them, given their sensitive nature, but Rath would skin him alive all the same if he reported that he had lost them. It was all he could do to re-trace his steps back to the inn, and check his room as well.

On the other hand, if someone had stolen them...

He was a mediocre fighter, by the standards of the adventurers of Tysa, and would likely have to call in support, if it transpired that someone in the Collective had taken them. On the other hand, it would likely be in his interest to find an excuse to request aid without alerting his superiors to the loss of the notes.

A situation, which included the discovery of someone on the Ziardian kill-on-sight list.

Surely, in one of the biggest cities of Tysa, in the Adventurer's Collective, there would be someone who would have made a stink of himself in the nostrils of Ziard. Fortunately for Zmflavius, a list of such people could easily be obtained at the Ziardian consulate in Graldok.

[Elrond]

After exiting the collective, Elrohir stood at the entrance and surveyed the street. He looked left and right before turning his eyes skyward. The moon was almost full; and the night was warm. A breeze of fresh air gently cooled his face; and he inhaled deeply. It was time to head back to the inn and sleep for a few hours before setting off on his return journey to Barad Eithel.

A slight movement to his left interrupted his thoughts on the home journey. And Elrohir turned his attention to the cloaked figure moving hurriedly along the sidewalk away from the collective.

"It might be that lad, the latest victims of Haryld's antics," thought Elrohir, "wanting to get back to his inn to get some rest before the early start on his heroic adventure."

A strange sense of pity overtook the old man. True that a novice needed a few of those fool's errands to toughen his hide and teach him a lesson that adventuring is not always about glory and wealth. But Elrohir decided to call out to him and talk to him.

"Hey, lad!" shouted Elrohir.

The cloaked figure suddenly burst into a sprint.

"So, it is a thief; and not that lad," thought Elrohir as he gauged the distance to see if he could catch him.

The thief was moving quickly; and Maree's ale would make running after him harder than usual.

He looked around and saw that there were no city guards. He waved his hand and opened a portal. Before stepping in it, Elrohir braced himself for a small accident.

The sprinting thief slammed into barrier; and hit the ground. a firm grip on his neck raised him off the ground.

"Sorry, young man! I didn't intend to ruin your fine evening. But why are you running away from an old man?"

The thief wiggled and wormed to no avail. There was no escape.

"Let me go! I didn't steal any gold or precious things from anyone!" hissed the thief.

Elrohir could not tell if the thief was frightened or if he thought that the old man gripping him was stupid.

"Let me see your face!" ordered Elrohir firmly and removed the hood from the thief's head.

The scarred face of a woman appeared from under the hood.

Elrohir laughed as he put down the woman and said sarcastically, "Sorry about that! Thought you were a lad!"

As soon as her feet were on the ground, the woman's expression turned from contempt to surprise as she discovered that she could not move her feet or hands.

"Just a small precaution lest you cut our short introduction even shorter," said Elrohir with a smirk.

"What do you want? I have not stolen any gold. Let me go, old man!" pleaded the woman.

"Then why are you running away?" retorted Elrohir, ordering the shadows that bound her hands and legs to tighten their grip.

"And I'm sure a city guard patrol would be happy to take you back to their commander! So, let me in on your little secret; or it is Marindol's dungeon for you tonight!" said Elrohir softly.

"I was tasked with stealing some papers from a man in the collective. You can have them; but let me go."

Elrohir freed her hands, and ordered, "Give me the papers, then!"

The thief rummaged though a pocket on the inside of her cloak; and extended a few parchments of paper toward's Elrohir.

The old man sensed that the thief was telling the truth. Give a thief a choice between the dungeons and aborting the loot of a failed mission; and the loot would be sacrificed.

He took the papers from the woman's hands, and inquired, "And who is the owner of these papers?"

"I do not know his name; but he was sitting alone on a table in the shadowed part of the bar.

Elrohir started walking back towards the collective, and heard the woman's voice shout from behind him, "Free my feet, old man! You have the papers."

He looked back at the woman, and waved his hands. As soon as her feet were free, the woman ran into the shadows; but not before hurling a few curses at her adversary.

Elrohir walked slowly toward's the collective.

[Badstench]

Gadget lifted the mug to his mouth and missed; this is the hazard inherent of having only one eye... depth perception is impaired. He swore softly and cast a quick glance around the room to make sure no one had noticed his sloppiness. It seemed that no one had, so he brushed the excess liquid off his tunic and pretended it hadn't happened.

From his vantage point at the bar, he watched as the swarthy stranger exited the Collective, and noticed as Elrohir Singolo walked in immediately afterward. Elrohir turned his head this way and that in search of someone before alighting his gaze on Gadget.

A flicker of upraised eyebrows was a sort-of greeting that Gadget returned in kind... as much as one can do with one eye-brow covered by a patch.

"Ho there, Gadget," spoke Elrohir. "I think you've lost something."

"Eh?" queried Gadget.

Elrohir produced the pieces of paper and waved them at the mage. "Aren't these yours?"

"No," answered Gadget honestly, which produced a sigh from Elrohir.

"Well then, they must belong to Haryld or the young lad he's trying to coerce for another venture into Bentlimb Wood. I'll go ask them."

"Wait a minute," said Gadget hurriedly. "What makes you think Haryld is up to his tricks again? He's not a bad sort, really. I've heard the story of his travails in Bentlimb Wood, and I defy you to say it isn't a sad story."

Elrohir returned Gadget's remark with a scoff. "Listen Gadget, I'll bet you two mugs of Toe-Curler that Haryld will have the boy agree to a daft adventure in search of the Vampire Witch before this evening is two hours longer.

"What say you? Will you take my bet?"

"Alright," answered Gadget half-heartedly. "But only one mug. I haven't got much money on me."

So Gadget and Elrohir made their way to the table next to Haryld de Boigne and Johnny Gone where they could eavesdrop.

***************

Johnny was looking at the items on the table: the false teeth, the eye-balls, the iron four leafed clover and the container of salt.

"Erm, what are those?" he asked of Haryld.

"Those are mementos," answered Haryld sadly.

"Mementos of what?" pressed Johhny.

"Mementos of my dear departed adventuring companions, they who lost their lives in the wilds of Bentlimb Wood."

[Elrohir winked at Gadget and mouthed silently, "Wait for it"]

"Such very dear friends, they were," said Haryld morosely.

Johhny Gone's interest was piqued. "What happened to them?"

In answer, Haryld touched the container of salt. "I know this looks like a container of salt, but it's actually the remains of a fighter named Grizwold. He was turned into a pillar of salt by a wicked witch. What you see in this container is all that remains of his remains, if you take my meaning."

Then Haryld looked at the eye-balls. "Those are the only remains left of Basil, who was acclaimed as having long-sight. He was an elementalist, but that didn't help him when he was surprised by a big rock to the top of his skull. The force of the blow made his eyes pop out, and that was all I managed to grab before I had to flee.

"The teeth belonged to Henry 'Chopper' Mostly, who was variously known as 'Chopper' or 'Mostly' or 'Henry', depending on how you met him. He was a fighter who wielded an axe, hence the name 'Chopper'.

"The iron four-leafed clover is mine."

Johnny Gone gasped. "Three memories of dead men and one of yourself? That's a bit morbid, isn't it?"

"I keep them together as a warning to myself," admitted Haryld. "Until the wicked witch of Bentlimb Wood is slain, I can never rest. She slew my brothers and tasted my blood. She seeks to kill me yet."

Johnny gasped again, "You are cursed?"

"Aye. I am cursed. No more to feel freedom of soul or body... cursed until the witch is dead."

Johnny's eyes were wide as he asked, "And what is the manifestation of your curse?"

"You can see for yourself," answered Haryld. "This armour I wear is actually adhered to my body. I can't remove it lest my skin rip. I am doomed to wear it for all eternity... or until the witch dies.

"It is a horrible fate I endure, boy. Can you imagine how uncomfortable this armour is? Can you imagine the torment of an itch that can't be scratched? Can you imagine the frustration of needing to pee?"

"Oh, I wondered what that smell was," sympathised Johnny.

Haryld frowned. "I've worked out how to ease my bladder without pissing my pants, boy, but the shame remains."

Johnny shrugged. "So, why not just go and kill the witch?"

Haryld frowned even more. "I've already said, she tasted my blood. Weren't you paying attention? She can smell me coming from a league's distance."

"Is she a vampire witch?" It was a good question from Johnny.

"Yes."

"And Johnny Gone laughed. "Well then, your answer is simple... you need a virgin draped in garlic and armed with holy water and a wooden stake to confront the witch. Such would be enough to make her acquiesce to any request. You could have the curse lifted!"

Haryld nodded. "But where am I to find a virgin?" he wailed. "I would pay such a person a fortune if I could find him or her."

For the truth of vampire witches is this... the blood of a virgin is like the puss of a jelly-fish is to a Human. they will clutch their bellies and writhe in agony before realising their last act on God's green earth will be to develop the shits and die agonizingly.

"I'm a virgin," exclaimed Johnny without engaging brain before mouth.

The practical upshot of this story is to tell that Johnny Gone agreed to journey to Bentlimb Wood with a rosary of garlic and a wooden stake, there to slay the vampire Witch and free Haryld from his curse.

Elrohir Singolo barked a short laugh and expected a free drink from Gadget.

[zmflavius]

Nothing. The notes had as well disappeared off the face of the earth. And so, Zmflavius left the embassy, holding a list of around eighty names, though he only really expected around two dozen to actually materialize in the area. Apparently, annoying the Ziardian government was more difficult than it would seem.

The key, of course, was that the contents didn't make it out into the open, but he would worry about that after he had retrieved them.

He walked into the collective, ordered another mug of Hammertongue, and returned to the corner. The Ziardian embassy might need as long as three days if they really meant business, but they might also be able to scrounge up some fighters from the area. Graldok was a big city.

[Elrond]

Needing a quick reaction to justify his laughter, Elrohir quickly opened the parchments recovered from the thief and acted as if he's reading them. He buried his face in the parchments and stifled a louder, more rawdy laugh!

After a few seconds, all mirth and laughter drained away. He didn't hear Gadget's mumbling about about their bet, or notice that Haryld was having a hard time keeping himself from bursting into laughter.

He was reading the names of people, some he recognized, most he didn't. But his attention wasn't on the names so much as on a gold sum opposite each name.

[Badstench]

Gadget was still sulking over the loss of gold coins to a mug of Toe-Curler for Elrohir, so he didn't immediately notice his ccompanion's concerned frown at what he was reading.

"I was hoping the boy would show more sense than Haryld's previous victims. Young 'uns today... stupid, the lot of them!"

He wrinkled his brow at Elrohir. "You're not seriously considering letting the boy go on that foolhardy expedition, are you?"

"What, eh?" Elrohir roused himself from his reverie. "The boy? Why not? It would be a good test of his mettle. If he wants to be an adventurer, he may as well start with a hard test of his abilities."

"Oh, c'mon. You know the success rate to date has been zero. Hell, I bet even you would have trouble against the vampire witch."

Elrohir smiled wickedly at Gadget. "Is that another bet you'd be willing to back, mage?... given that you could barely afford the cost of the last one?"

Gadget pouted.

Elrohir prodded further, "Perhaps you're the one who would benefit more from an adventure such as Haryld offers. Your pockets might be grateful, especially as the vampire witch is reputed to have quite a good treasure hoard."

Shamed in such a way, Gadget gritted his teeth and said, "I will if you will."

"Ha! Me go on Haryld's adventure? Do I have 'Silly Ass' tattooed on my forehead?"

"No," admitted Gadget before prodding with his own jibe, "but your reticence might be interpretted as fear."

Elrohir didn't rise to the bait. "I'm not one given to vanity, mage. You'll not sway me with taunts. And besides, I think I've found a way to earn some money that doesn't entail a silly ass adventure after a dangerous vampire witch."

"Oh?" and now Gadget looked at the pieces of paper in Elrohir's hands. 'Does it have something to do with those notes?"

Elrohir simply nodded.

"Can I see them?" and while he was perusing the list of names, he whistled, "This looks like an assassination list."

"Yes it does," agreed Elrohir, "although it might concern something wholly more innocent. Maybe the person who dropped this list owes amounts of gold listed against each name."

Gadget frowned. "That would be an awful lot of debt." After a moment he shook his head. "No, I don't think it's a debtor's ledger. I don't recognise most of the names, but a few stand out... this one, for example - I know Boris Camly, and he's tight with his purse strings. He'd never loan money to anyone.

"And this name... Varsil Demonsoul... his reputation is wide known, even being a resident of Trithik. I hear he has lots of enemies."

Gadget continued to scan the list of names. "Good God!" he exclaimed after a minute, "Haryld's name is on this list!"

[zmflavius]

Zmflavius entered the house at the address he had been given at the embassy. Staying here would be quite an improvement over the inn he had previously stayed in. Within a couple hours, the first of the operatives would be arriving. In the meantime, he might as well start looking for someone he might have seen.

"Varsil Demonsoul...definitely not. At least, last I checked, I still felt like staying alive. Lancelot and Alanne, probably not, I think they're still on that snipe hunt in the Felrundins..."

Zmflavius scrolled down the list. Even Ziard was wary of issuing KOS orders, and eighty names, even in all of Northern Sryth, was still an unusually high number. In all likelihood, he supposed it was connected to the imminent Age of Igtheon.

"What kind of first name is Judge? I would have to be crazy to attempt to assassinate him though...huh, I didn't know Vayir was still alive. I swear, Rayl was captured a month and a half ago...when the Onyxus do they update these things? "

He glanced further down on the list and smiled.

"Got it."

An unusual addition, but he knew he had seen this adventurer earlier today. Assuming he had lost his notes in the area of the Collective, the commotion from a couple dozen Ziardian AS (Assassination Squad) soldiers attacking the collective ought to be sufficient to permit him to pickpocket the notes from whomever had stolen them.

He could reasonably expect enough soldiers within five hours. He began waiting.

[Elrond]

"Gadget, please let me have a look at those notes," said Elrohir with the most polite and innocent tone he could muster. And then he went on the take the last page of the notes from the mage's hands. Acting as if he was reading the notes, he started mumbling incoherently to the mage's ears. But inside his head, the old man was knocking his head on a hard rock.

"Dumb, dumb, and dumber. The ale and the prospect of gold rendered you witless, old man! Think clearly...." and so on went the inner berating.

"A rogue was tasked with stealing an assassination list from someone inside the collective. And that person happened to be in the same room as one whose name is on the list!"

"Damn your dwindling wit, Elrohir! The list's owner is already searching for it; and he's most likely to start looking in the collective. Think, think, old man!"

After a minute that seemed like an hour, Elrohir looked up and surveyed the room. He was relieved that no one was eyeing him.

He went on to secure the notes in his pocket; and turned to Gadget with as much seriousness as he could muster.

"Mage, your empty pocket and Maree's ale reduced your brain to that of a mercenary!"

Before, Gadget could articulate his indignation, Elrohir hissed sharply, "The assassin lost this list here; and Haryld is on the list!"

Indignation turned to shock, and Gadget's eyes widened. He shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. And after a few seconds, he exclaimed, "Shit! .... This is not looking good!"

Elrohir cut him off saying, "The notes will remain a secret between you and I. Forget about any prospect of trying to profiteer from them. We need to investigate this seriously. A number of friends are on that list; and I don't think it is far-fetched that our names are on another list. If you've noticed, most of the targets are adventurers, warriors, or mages."

Gadget slowly shook his head in agreement; and asked, rather hoarsely, "What do we do, Elrohir?

"I haven't thought this thing through yet. Maree's damned drink is clouding my small brain! But this I know, that damned list is not the work of a novice. Anyone that blood-thirsty must be formidable enough to take the risks!" responded Elrohir.

The mage raised his mug to his mouth, only to be disappointed that it is empty. He frowned and put it down with disgust.

"Damn it! Haryld is no pushover. He can hold his own as well as any adventurer within a hundred leagues of the Raelp pass! And I hear that Varsil's reputation isn't shabby at all."

Elrohir nodded in agreement, "You're right! This is looking more serious by the minute! And this is what we need to do .... You need to leave Graldok tonight and go to Trithik immediately; but not directly! You must go to the collective in Trithik and warn Varsil, after you make him swear an oath of secrecy."

Gadget objected, "But we need to figure this out here in Graldok. If the assassin is here, then it would be easier to deal with him here and now."

"But we are not certain that the assassin will remain in Graldok after losing his list in the same building near one of his targets. He will probably have another copy of the list; and if he's a professional, he'll leave Graldok for a while till the matter subsides."

Gadget closed his eye slowly and exhaled sharply, "I'm in no condition to travel to Trithik ... "

Elrohir cut him off and joked, "Don't worry, mage! I'll deduct this expense from the loot." And with that he handed Gadget a small purse of 50 gold pieces.

"Thanks, old man! When do I leave?"

"You must be off within the hour," responded Elrohir, "but you must not leave a trail behind you. Make it look like you're heading to Port Hallik or any other city as a diversion."

"Don't worry, old man, I can handle it." responded the mage sheepishly. And quietly, he was thinking, "Thanks for the gold, old man! I'll just gate there as soon as I'm in a safe location!"

[Badstench]

Mages have the ability to 'Gate', which is to say that they can teleport themselves if they have the sufficient learning.

Gadget gated himself to Trithik... actually, he gated himself to a village on the outskirts of Trithik; the art of gating' requires exactitudes of mathematics and spatial knowledge, and Gadget wasn't familiar with the country around Trithik.

Gadget looked at the few wooden buildings and realised immediately that he'd missed his mark.

"Bish!" he swore.

However, he saw a haze of smoke to the north and summised a larger urbanization in that direction. This was confirmed when he asked a local, "Is Trithik that way?"

"Yup, ahuh."

"How far is it?"

The villager pondered, "It's as far as it is."

Gadget flummoxed at the man. "What does that mean? Can I get there by walking?"

"U-yup, you can get there by walking."

So Gadget started walking. when he was out of earshot, the villager added.... "Or you could wait for the carraige from Talinus. It will be here soon."

But Gadget had trudged beyond ear-shot and didn't hear him. He was thinking about how to approach Varsil Demonsoul. Should he just walk up and say, "Hi Varsil. My name is Gadget and I've discovered your name on an assassin's list"?

"I guess I'll have to play it by ear," said Gadget out loud to himself.

************

Johnny Gone was about to rise from his seat when a hand clapped on his shoulder.

"Keep your seat, boy," said Elrohir Singolo, and he levelled Haryld de Boigne with a meaningful stare as he joined the shadowed table.

"Hello Mr Grey," said Haryld.

"Hello Haryld." Elrohir turned his gaze to Umberalla, the serving girl, and motioned for service. "two mugs of Toe-Curler, please."

Haryld beamed his appreciation, a smile that went sideways when the two mugs arrived at the table and Elrohir claimed one before handing the other to Johnny Gone.

"We've had enough of your pranks, Haryld." spoke Elrohir seriously.

Haryld blustered, "Eh? what do you mean?"

"This thing with the vampire witch was funny the first few times, but I'm over it now. This boy doesn't deserve your fantasy. There are more important matters afoot."

************

A foot, or to be more precise, two feet.

Gadget used his two feet to enter the south gate of Trithik, and then he navigated his way to Blade Square. Once arrived, he spotted the green door and took a deep breath.

The door opened before he knocked (which is a peculiarity of the green door... it recognises an adventurer and allows admittance. If anyone else tried to enter, the door wouldn't be so kindly."

Gadget entered, and the first thing he did after entering was to wonder why he was sudenly splattered by pumpkin juice.

A leather-clad body flew past him, landing with a thud against a wall beneath a chalk board. Amazed, Gadget noted a severe woman banging heads with a cudgel, a dwarf punch someone in his nether regions, and twelve men engaged in a brawl.

The Adventurer's Collective in Trithik!

[Elrond]

Haryld's natural reaction would have been feigned indignation, followed by denial, then a detailed description of where the witch was hiding in the wood. But the tone of the old man's voice clearly indicated that there were more serious matters at hand. He simply pocketed his small "mementos," and waited for the old man to speak.

"First things first, and that is our lad here." started Elrohir as he turned to the young man.

"Lad, let me re-introduce you to Haryld De Boigne, an adventurer of no small renown in these parts. But he is known for having a fantasy with sending novices on fools' errands in Bentlimb wood."

The lad's red ears were now crimson. Anger was swelling up inside him; and his face betrayed it.

"Now, lad, those errands are not necessarily bad," continued Elrohir, "because contrary to our reputation, adventurers have to think .... you know, use their brains before blurting out 'I'm a virgin!'"

Now Johnny Gone was a sight to behold. His cheeks were flaming red, ears crimson red, sweat was running down his brow, and his hands were trembling.

"And before you foolishly attempt to punch Haryld, you should know that he can stuff you inside your pants and send you back home in pieces. So, calm down and take it in stride. We've all fallen for many false leads over our life time."

Elrohir waited to see how the lad would react. And he was glad that the trembling subsided; and that the face betrayed more shame than anger.

"So, lad, have a good night. And in the morning, you'll be smiling at all of this." said the old man, "And now, would you please excuse us. There is a private matter that we need to discuss."

With that Elrohir nodded to Haryld to get up. And the latter did without looking at the lad, now left with Elrohir's untouched drink at the table.

Haryld followed the old man toward's Maree's stool behind the bar.

Maree saw Elrohir and Haryld coming her way; and when the men stood opposite her on the other side of the wooden bar, she simply said, "Yes?"

"Maree, Haryld and I need to talk in private. Is anyone in the upstairs lounge?"

"No, it is empty." Replied Maree as she opened an unseen drawer and took out a key.

Elrohir extended his hand to take the key and asked, "Would you be kind enough to make sure that we aren't disturbed for the next half hour?"

"Sure, old man; but do you need anything sent up?"

"No, thank you! We'll leave the key in the torch handle at the entrance of the lounge after we leave. And we won't be leaving by the front door." Responded Elrohir.

Maree nodded and the two men headed to the private lounge in the collective's second floor.

[Badstench]

Haryld de Boigne he called himself, and anyone who knows anything knows that the middle part of his self-professed title is Charnan by origin.

The 'de' is tantamount to Charninian, announcing nobility. But Haryld wasn't noble by any stretch of the imagination.

Still, when addressed by an advenrurer of Elrohir's reputation, Haryld felt important.

He also felt scared.

They entered the conference room and sat down, drinks thoughtfully provided in advance. Elrohir handed a mug to Haryld.

"So, who have you pissed off recently?"

Haryld looked bemused. "I don't know what you mean. Apart from the vampire withch who cursed me, I haven't made anyone angry."

"You've made someone angry... angry enough to include you on a 'Killing List'!

*********

Gadget sidled to the bar, noticing the handsome woman who leaned next to him. "One Toe-Curler," he announced.

Vurii set both hands on the counter and stared at him. "Please tell me someone put you up to this? Toe-curler? If you mention that beverage to my face again, I'll let the dogs loose on your butt!"

Gadget stammered, "Um, I meant beer... just a beer please."

Vurii stared at him just long enough to make her opinion obvious; Don't mess with me."

Gadget was saved when a blonde, blue-eyed man slapped him on the shoulder. "Ha! You're from Graldok, I expect. Toe-Curler is the local brew down that way."

The stranger introduced himself by the unlikely name of Scout.

"I'm looking for a person named Varsil Demonsoul," said Gadget.

"Why?" asked Scout

"Do you know him?" asked Gadget

"Maybe. Is he a little fellow with red hair and a whispy beard?"

"Um, I don't really know. I was just told that he can usually be found in this place."

"What do you want with him?"

Gadget gulped. "That's a matter between me and him," he said with false bravado.

Scout appraised the newcomer from toe to eye-patch.

After a moment he said, "The last person looking for Varsil Demonsoul in this place ended up a corpse. Fancy yourself a corpse, Mister?"

Gadget was saved a response when another man elbowed his way to the bar and asked for a mug of Hammertongue. Vurii was pouring it when Judge Fury turned to Gadget...

"Why do you want Varsil?

Gadget saw the pendant hanging from the man's neck and gasped, "Sir, I have been asked to find him, that's all."

The pendant was shaped like a craftsman's hammer, which is recognisable as the badge of The Judges.

Fury accepted his drink from Vurii before turning to the new-comer. He smiled.

"It would be remss of me not to offer hospitality to one who frequents the room behind the red door. We are brothers, you and I."

Gadget goggled, "Erm, I suppose so, though I don't understand the reference."

"You're an adventurer, yes?"

"Yes"

"Then we are brothers." Judge Fury grinned. "Scout was just funnin' you. Varsil is seated over there, at the table of eight. I'll introduce you.

"But first, I want to kow who you are."

"Oh, I'm Gadget... which is to say, I'm Simon Allego, of Graldok, here with a message of warning for Varsil Demonsoul."

Judge Fury looked at Scout with no surprise.

The thought that passed between them was, "another one".

The Judge clapped his hands and said, "Okay, then... you'll need to speak with the man himself. Follow me."

And Judge Fury introduced Gadget to the Table of Eight.

*************

Actually, they were the table of six that night. Jinx had departed for her homeland and Dragonbane was newly buried. And Hawk was whoring.

Varsil was engaged in a game of matchsticks with Ezekiel when Judge Fury interupted him.

"Oi. Varsil. This man wants to talk with you."

Varsil looked at Gadget.

"Good for him," he slurred. "Why? Is he a tax collector? The law doesn't apply here."

Judge Fury sighed. "He's no tax collector. I think he has important news for you."

************

At exactly the same moment that Judge Fury was introducing Gadget to Varsil Demonsoul, the agent from Zaird was apologising to the farmer named Ulys.

"I'm sorry," he said as he slit the man's throat. "You have to understand, it's just business."

[Elrond]

"You've made someone angry... angry enough to include you on a 'Killing List'!

Elrohir sighed, closed his eyes for a second, and then looked at Haryld somewhat compassionately, saying, "Master De Boigne! You know that I don't have your con art skills. Old man Elrohir couldn't trick a kid into accepting sweets from him during a holiday! So, please understand that this small conversation is serious and extremely important. I'd rather be sparring with my Halgirom than wasting time on a tricks and pranks."

Haryld sat stone-faced opposite the old man. He put on his best gambling face and waited for the man to continue.

"Haryld, your name is on a killing list. I've seen it with my own eyes. And the list includes a number of friends and acquaintances. And to make things worse, I have reason to believe that an assassin is already in the city searching for a way to poison your or slit your throat."

Haryld shook his head, and said, "Elrohir, you know me. I've made a few enemies during my time. Most I've been able to handle myself. But I can be rash, occasionally, so let me think for a couple of minutes."

"There was Dema, a farmer's daughter in Durnsig or Hawklor. But I settled that by buying her father 10 cows and the farm next door. And a couple of weeks back, there was Elanor, a minor noble's daughter in Talinus. But that one I settled by repaying her father's debt to another noble. And a few month's back, there was a merchant's wife from Mirgspil, whom I rescued from Brigands. But I don't think she told her husband ..."

Elrohir burst out laughing, "Stop it, Haryld De Boigne. It looks like you're putting your 'name' to good use!"

Haryld wanted to reply, but the old man cut him off saying, "I don't think this has anything to do with that sort of adventure. Someone wants you dead; and they're willing to pay a few hundred gold pieces for it!"

Elrohir's companion gulped the remainder of his drink upon hearing the rich bounty on his neck! "I don't know who that would be, Elrohir. But you know what, I've seen enough during my years to overcome cowardice. I'll just have to be careful; and when the bugger comes my way, I'll make sure it is his neck that meets the edge of my knife!"

The old man, already knowing that Haryld was not easily frightened, said, "You can take care of yourself, Haryld. And so can a few of my friends. But what I'm trying to do is figure out who the hell is the person that wants all of them dead."

A few moments of silence ensued, and Elrohir finally spoke, "Haryld, I want an oath of secrecy from you before showing you something." And he waited for the man to respond.

Haryld looked at Elrohir for a few moments and then said, "You have it, Elrohir!"

With that, the old man took out the notes from his pocket and placed them in front of Haryld. The old man's eyes were fixed on the man.

Haryld opened the first note and glanced at it quickly, then quickly opened the second, and third. He reached the last one and fixed his eyes on it. The look in his eyes was that of pure surprise and awe!

"Damn it, Elrohir, how in the deepest pits of Onyxus did you get this?" Asked Haryld.

"Why do you ask, Haryld?"

"Old man, this is a Zaird list!" exclaimed Haryld.

"WHAT? Are you sure? How do you know?" replied Elrohir without waiting for a reply. It has been a while since he was caught off-guard like that. And he wasn't sure he was ready or willing to be caught as such!

[Badstench]

Varsil Demonsoul perused the copy of the Death List.

"Yep. My name is on here. It's sandwiched between someone called Kalin Brobich and another someone called Petra Dod. The names mean nothing to me."

"What about the other names on the list?" asked Judge Fury.

Varsil shrugged. "Halbor de Lign is here, but he was killed a few months ago. You remember him Fury? He was one of Mordi's Mob. He rode with us during the Fell winter. He got shot by an arrow as I remember,"

"Yes, I remember. It was a goblin arrow took him."

"That's my point. If this is a Ziard assassination list, it's horribly out of date. This name... Gerald du Scave... that was Gerry. He fell off a cliff. And this name, Yonyx. He was salin by a dhormuk.

"but it's not the dead I'm looking at, Fury. Did you notice this name?" and Varsil stabbed his finger over the line that said, 'The Scribe'.

"Where is Mathias?"

Judge Fury scowled. "What possible reason could the Ziard have to include Mathias on their lists?"

Then His eminence spun to Gadget... "How did you come by this list?"

Gadget was most effusive in his answer. "It was Elrohir Singolo, My Lord. He gave it to me."

Judge Fury goggled. "Elrohir? Are you sure that was the man's name?"

Gadget nodded, beyond which the Judge advised Varsil to ready himself for an adventure.

Vurii tried to pretend that the absence of the Table of Eight would be a good thing, but she wasn't alone in wishing them a safe return; Judge Fury, Varsil Demonsoul, Scout, Young Ned, Ezekiel and Bogmuck.

Hawk, of course, was out whoring.

Jinx was currently advocating for women's rights on the Island of Shay.

Dragonbane was dead.

As was Adam Jadefang

**************

Graldok was about to be visited by the Table of Eight.

[zmflavius]

The soldier-assassins slowly filed in, never more than two at a time, taking up discreet positions throughout the house. In another life, many of them had formerly been Ziardian spies, and in a few unique cases, pardoned criminals. Close to a third had spent the majority of their lives as foreigners, and another third had spent much of their lives overseas. Or, as in the case of a land-locked city-state such as Ziard, overland. They were, without fail, powerful in combat, adequate in magic, though few were even experts in the few spheres they studied, and un-equaled in stealth. They were, in other words, ideal assassins, not only because they were almost the equal of an adventurer in combat, but primarily because it would be a simple matter for the Ziardian government to disavow knowledge of their actions.

In another life, Zmflavius had been an adventurer. When he had tired of that, he had become a tax collector.

That particular job had ended even more quickly than the first, when he had proposed the notion of levying taxes from a previously untapped source of tax revenue, landed adventurers, in other words, adventurers who had happened to purchase plots of land, a keep or some other residence, and who paid no land tax or any tax whatsoever on the residences.

While he had been wont to curse his luck in attempting to extract taxes from Varsil Demonsoul of all adventurers, most of his comrades had been quick to point out that most adventurers would have beaten the crap out of him, and then thrown him to his trossk, if he had been so bold as to even suggest that they pay taxes. Most of them didn't actually pay income tax anyways, let alone the land tax he had tried to levy.

Whatever the case, his short tenure as a tax collector had been the one point in his life where he could simply show up somewhere and start asking questions of most people, and expect to get answers, and even get paid for it later. While some people would point out that being an adventurer meant pretty much the exact the same thing, except with more killing, a tax collector differs in that he generally shows up when life is good, and there's nothing of importance occurring, whereas an adventurer will probably only be needed if some monster is attacking the villagers.

Zmflavius, however, during his time as a tax collector, had often taken information as payment instead of gold, and would often agree to not visit certain areas in exchange for a continuous stream of spy work. This flow of information, of course, had only increased when Zmflavius left the TRS, without turning in his tax-collection license, and handed over his network of contacts to the Ziardian government in exchange for immediate naturalization. The Ziardian government, unlike him, could afford to pay the taxes of everyone inside the network, and occasionally bribe them into sending messages.

Graldok is one of the richest cities in Tysa, and Zmflavius's network of contacts in the city was one of the biggest windfalls for Ziard, to which Graldok was the closest city, and thus, required a disproportionate number of spies.

When the twenty-first soldier-assassin, a more-or-less semi-permanent resident of Graldok arrived, he said,

"I just got a message from the Sergeant. Our mole in the South Gate of Graldok."

Ziard had close to thirty moles in the Graldok City Guard, including at least two in every gate, another one who spent most of his time getting drunk in the collective, and one who sat in Thane Marindol's councils whenever the Commander of the Guard was too drunk to leave his house. Sixteen of these moles had been handed over by Zmflavius when he moved to Ziard.

"We have two targets at the Collective."
"Including Haryld?"
"Yes. The other one is the one at the bottom of the list. He just entered through the South Gate, and headed for the Collective. Oh, and he was alone."
"What about our mole in the Collective?"
"He says that Haryld just went upstairs with someone."
"Who?"
"Elrohir Singollo. Un-equaled fighter, amazing healer. I'm sure you saw him."
"Blast."
"Also, you might want to know who the second target is."
"He's at the bottom of the...oh. I thought we captured him!"
"He escaped."

[Elrond]

"Damn it, Elrohir, how in the deepest pits of Onyxus did you get this?" Asked Haryld.

"Why do you ask, Haryld?"

"Old man, this is a Zaird list!" exclaimed Haryld.

"WHAT? Are you sure? How do you know?" replied Elrohir without waiting for a reply. It has been a while since he was caught off-guard like that. And he wasn't sure he was ready or willing to be caught as such!


"Take it easy and calm down, old man!" said Haryld in response to the quick succession of questions.

Elrohir was taken aback by the sound advice from his companion. He closed his eyes and took a few long breaths, inhaling and exhaling deeply. After a couple of minutes, he opened his eyes.

"Alright, Haryld, let us go over this unexpected matter from the start. But before we do that, please tell me how you came to recognize the list's origin." Inquired Elrohir.

Haryld lowered his eyes and looked at the notes once more. "Now is your turn to swear secrecy to me. Only then will I explain."

Elrohir did not display the surprise at Haryld's measured response. And he responded after a few silent moments, "You have it Haryld."

"My name has been on the Zaird kill list for a few years. I've known that for years; and not from the many meetings with their assassins. I knew it the minute it was destined to be; even before it was officially written."

Elrohir did his best to take in the few sentences in stride. There was much more to Haryld than the half-drunk prankster in the collective. "You have my full attention, Haryld."

"Singollo, you are sitting opposite a voluntarily retired Zaird assassin!"

Elrohir did not notice that his mouth was a gap till Haryld motioned for him to close his mouth.

"Sorry about that; but tonight's surprises seem to be in abundance." Said Elrohir apologetically.

"The minute I decided to quit that rotten lot, I knew that my name will be on that list till the last day of my life if it came at the hands of a former 'comrade'; or till they learn of my passing otherwise."

"And so far, they've failed! I can count 7 'comrades' who retired involuntarily by my hands." Said Haryld somewhat coldly and without much emotion, and remained silent.

Elrohir waited for Haryld to continue; but when it became clear that the man would remain silent, the old man said, "Master Haryld, you have an invitation to Barad Eithel near Trithik. I would be honored to have you as a guest to talk about this in detail."

Haryld looked up and smiled, "Thanks, old man! It would be an honor. Just make sure your chamber maids are on vacation. Did I ever tell you that Pyrond has a bounty on my head after a run in with his personal chamber maid?"

Elrohir barked out laughing, "Damn you, Haryld, you've got a hatful of surprises tonight! But don't worry about the maids in Barad Eithel; they'll be on vacation with immediate effect upon your arrival!"

Haryld smiled, but it was clear that his mind was preoccupied.

Elrohir asked his companion, "What do we do, Haryld? The rat is in the house; and we're sitting in the second floor."

Haryld's expression changed from that of contemplation to serious concentration, and said, "This is what I advise ….."

[zmflavius]

Five years ago - Ziard

"Go! Go! Uli, take fifteen men and comb this block. Everybody else, follow me! Now we've got them!"

For three weeks, the Ziardian government had been assaulting the Phoyim Clan, one of the most powerful crime syndicates in Ziard. Harsh justice had done little to hammer at its support, and as a result, Ziard had decided to opt for a different course of action: Destroying its leadership. Two weeks ago, Barilol Tasa, the chief of the Phoyim's hitmen had been killed when his safe-house had been stormed by a dozen Ziardian soldier-assassins. Three days ago, the only son of the leader, Simiaza Phoyim had been hanged, though negotiations for an exchange of prisoners was still ongoing. A number of Ziardian guardsmen and a soldier-assassin had been killed as a result, but the Phoyim Clan was on its knees now.

Captain Rath led another column of a dozen soldier-assassins down the street. On the other end, another dozen were moving south, closing off the exit. Not that caution was really needed. With the Phoyim in disarray, Simiaza probably had no more than half a dozen underlings with him in his hole.

The two dozen agents stopped in front of a modest house in the center of the street. A number of snipers occupied the nearby houses, ready to shoot anyone who tried to leave. Simiaza was trapped like a rat.

The soldier-assassins burst into the house, killing all six underlings at the doorway. In the back, another dozen would have broken down the back door. Immediately, the soldier-assassins began running up the stairs, cutting down anyone in front of them.

Finally, while the rest of the soldier-assassins combed the house looking for clues, Rath and two other soldier-assassins, Synra and Haryld, approached a heavy door on the top floor. When they had reached the top, they had seen two of Simiaza's goons with boltslings in hand fire, while Simiaza and someone else rushed inside the heavy door. As two sharp pieces of metal thudded into Haryld's ice shield, a bar came down on the other side of the door, and a lock was turned.

Rath and Synra each cut down one of the enemies. Meanwhile, Haryld blasted open the door with destruction. Inside was Simiaza Phoyim, leader of the Phoyim clan, and his pregnant wife, Eria Phoyim.

Rath and Synra easily cut down Simiaza, outnumbered two to one as he was. However, Haryld stopped in front of Eria, and did nothing.

Rath stared at him.

"Kill her."

Haryld lifted his sword. However, he did not swing.

"Kill her, or you'll be sorry. If she lives, then she'll rally the remnants of the clan."

Haryld lowered his sword.

"But-"

"You will kill her. You are a soldier of Ziard, and this is the third time you've-"

Haryld lifted his sword again, but swung towards Rath. Synra jumped forward and parried the blow...

Present Day - Outside the Collective

"And that," explained Synra, "Is why he's on this list."

Zmflavius, standing next to Synra, across the street from the collective, said nothing at first. Finally, he spoke.

"Just for that? Raising arms against a superior?"

"Well, he actually killed a number of other soldier-assassins, though only three were right after he refused to kill Eria. There were also a few other reasons. In any case, he didn't actually make the list until two months after the Phoyim incident."

"Two months after he deserted."

"Yep. That was when he killed the man we sent to persuade him to return."

"So...what happened to Eria?"

"Well, that's actually an interesting story. She managed to slip out while Haryld was fighting me and Rath and-"

Suddenly, the crossbowman on top of the Collective lifted a blue lantern, extinguishing it a moment later. Synca spoke a moment later.

"The other one is coming. The target who just entered through the South gate."

"All twenty-five are in place?"

"Yes. Be ready."

[Elrond]

Haryld's expression changed from that of contemplation to serious concentration, and said, "This is what I advise ….."

"We must empty the Collective by any means. We have to start a commotion or kick everyone out right away."

Elrohir was puzzled, "Why? Wouldn't we allow the assassin to leave undetected?"

"Rule number 9 of the Ziard Order: A kill list is a state secret of the highest importance. If lost, every effort should be exerted to retrieve it regardless of consequences," recited Haryld a line from a very distant past.

Singollo instinctively looked at the notes spread on the table and cursed!

"Yes, old man! They'll be coming after the list unrestrained and in full force. And if that means losing a few of their soldiers, then so be it."

"And the list went missing in the collective. Damn it Haryld, what's their likely course of action?"

Haryld was silent for a few seconds, then responded in a voice that was barely heard, "Infiltrate the target with a mole, or a disguised follower; Surround the target with the necessary number of Ziard Order faithful; storm the target and eliminate all enemy presence; search the bodies for the missing notes."

"And how many do you expect them to muster around the collective?" inquired Elrohir.

"That depends on a number of factors; but in brief, we're talking about a force of about 20 to 30 Ziards," replied Haryld.

Elrohir locked his hands, closed his eyes, and muttered an inaudible tune. He opened his eyes and said, "There is a powerful aura of evil in and around the collective. The Shadows spoke!"

Haryld nodded, "I sensed them. The greater evil is around the collective; but there is evil inside as well! It is too late for anyone to leave. Anyone leaving the collective will be hit."

"How many guild members were present before we went up here?" asked Elrohir.

"There were 9 members, Maree, 2 serving girls, and 1 servant not counting you and I," replied Haryld.

"That sounds about right. How do we recognize the mole?" Inquired Elrohir

"How about Johnny Gone?" smirked Haryld.

Elrohir's jaw dropped for the second time that evening; but this time he closed his mouth without prodding!

"And he's sure to be gone the minute he hears footsteps coming down from the second floor." Added Haryld.

[zmflavius]

Zmflavius hissed at Synra

"Here he is! Tell Opp to shoot!"

Immediately, Synra pulled the cover off the lantern, exposing a green light. A second later, a crossbow from the top of the collective fired...

And missed. The adventurer promptly dashed forward.

Synra stared in disgust.

"Well that plan's been kicked to pieces. Light the blue lantern."

Immediately, Zmflavius pulled off a second black covering, exposing another lantern. On top of the Collective, a blue lantern appeared. The Ziardians, excepting the ten warding the street exits, charged the collective, twelve in front, eight at the back entrance.

As Synra ran towards the figure running in the direction of the Collective, he remarked,

"You think the mole's alright?"

"Truly, I have no idea. I think he was going to leave, but ended up staying. If they figure out who he is...Oh, and by the way, what happened to Eria?"

"Well, after-"

At which point the other target promptly attacked them. Zmflavius charged, shield held up and longsword swinging, while Synra pulled out a pair of battle-axes.

Meanwhile, two men holding a makeshift battering ram promptly ran up to the door, and began smashing it in.

[Elrond]

The cries and sound of a fight in the street were heard. Elrohir and Haryld sprang to their feet.

"Haryld, run down stairs and take charge. I'll secure this floor and search for any hidden dangers before joining you."

Elrohir drew his sword and opened the door carefully. Haryld drew his blade and followed the old man.

Stepping into the hallway carefully, Elrohir looked left and right, and didn't see any movement. He motioned to Haryld to go.

Haryld rushed out of the room and down the stairs with sword drawn.

There were many rooms on the second floor. Aside from the private lounge, there was a small library, 5 bed chambers, a small storage room, and the guildmaster's master chamber and sleeping quarters (locked and warded for centuries since the disappearance of the last guildmaster of the collective).

Haryld ran down the stairs and stood at the bottom stair to survey the room.

Johnny Gone was not in the bar, which was good news! And everyone was staring at him and his drawn sword.

"What's all this foolishness, Haryld? A fight in the street is nothing to get excited about. Sheath your sword; and stop acting like an idiot," shouted Maree.

"Sorry, Maree; but the collective is under attack ....."

The red door shook as a powerful object hit it. And the loud thud got everyone's attention.

"Maree, take the girls and the servant inside and lock the door from the inside. Do not open unless I or Elrohir ask you to do so."

The serving girls dropped their trays and ran toward's Maree; and the guild members all stood with hands ready to draw their weapons.

Another thud, louder and more powerful than the first, jolted Maree into action. "Come on girls; let us go inside while these big boys fight their little boys' war," said Maree with a slightly strained voice. The girls and servant boy huddled around Maree as she led them away.

Haryld turned to the guild members and joked, "Nothing like a good fight after a good drink or few."

A couple of members smiled, but the rest stared stone-faced at Haryld.

A third strike shook the whole collective; but the door still held. The magic warding was good!

Haryld's voice boomed, "Get ready for battle. The Ziards are after us; and they do not take prisoners. Make them rue their bad luck!"

The curses from the half-drunk adventurers would have made any sailor blush. And the sight of their battle gear would have frightened any ordinary opponent; but not the Ziards.

Elrohir searched the rooms quickly, finding no trace of suspect activity. The collective shook as he finished the search and headed towards the stairs. As he stood disarming his magical trap, he heard Haryld's voice boom downstairs. And he rushed down to join his companion.

The door shattered into a thousand pieces; and Haryld had just enough time to summon a barrier to stop the splinters from maiming his companions.

Elrohir stood beside Haryld as the splinters hit the barrier, "Good job, Haryld!"

He then turned towards the guild members and shouted, "For the honor of the Red Door!"

[zmflavius]

The other target eventually turned and fled. Synra yelled,

"I'll chase this one, you get in the Collective!"

Zmflavius ran into the collective, which had turned into a melee of blood and steel. Two soldier-assassins were down, to no adventurers, but killing an adventurer was like to be a bloody mess anyhow.

Zmflavius strode to the edge of the fighting, pulled out a throwing knife, and immediately cast it in the direction of one of the adventurers...

[Elrond]

Haryld's barrier dissipated after the last splinter hit the floor. And immediately afterwards, Ziard assassins stormed through the door; and the battle started.

Haryld cut the first assassin down with a masterful stroke. And the second assassin fell to an axe thrown from another adventurer.

Elrohir charged towards the closest enemy assassin and engaged him. Haryld was fighting his second assassin, and the adventurers were all pressed in combat against a single foe or two for some.

After dispatching his adversary, Elrohir noticed Zmflavius drawing a knife. As the Ziard agent raised his arm to throw the projectile, Singollo cursed, "Rat! One of us will not live to see tomorrow's sunrise."

Summoning shadows, Elrohir forced the knife from Zmflavius' hand, and charged him. There was an assassin in the way; but his demise was swift. The fallen Ziard served his purpose and gave Zmflavius a precious second to decide on his course of action.

[zmflavius]

Zmflavius had heard a great deal about the fighting ability of Elrohir. Most of it could be summed up as: "Even with shadow magic, you're not going to be able to land a hit."

Immediately he danced away, and signaled two nearby assassins to join him on the attack.

At the back door, eight assassins broke in, aided by a blast of destruction.

[Elrond]

Zmflavius dodged the initial attack and moved out of striking range with agility. He stood between two assassins facing Elrohir. The grey-cloaked, aging fighter, shifted his feet to prepare for the trio's attack. His eyes burned with rage. He took a defensive stance and addressed Zmflavius, "I have what you seek, coward!"

A thundering blast shook the battle scene. An adventurer shouted, "They've breached the back door!"

Elrohir cursed as he saw a smile form on his adversary's face. "Damn it! Maree and the girls are in the back!"

And with that he rushed to the back entrance.

The sight that greeted him was a memory that accompanied him till the end of his days.

Maree was standing with a small knife in her hand. She was shielding the 2 serving girls who were cowering behind her. The servant boy was thrashing with a Ziard assassin's blade dripping of his blood. A total of 8 assassins were in the room.

Their commander motioned to one of them, "Finish off this sorry lot!"

Elrohir's battle cry drew the assassins' attention. The grey-haired fighter rushed forward and placed himself between Maree and the Ziards.

"Step back girls!" he ordered as he prepared to engage the Ziards, whom he addressed saying, "Let us see if you can handle and old man, you sorry lot of filth!"

The Ziard's commander responded, "Fool! If you had any wits, you would not stand before the might of Ziard. Say your final prayer, old dog!"

Maree and the girls took a couple of steps back. The battle in the bar was raging; and the cries of pain and agony filled Elrohir's ears.

He drew into a defensive battle stance and prepared to meet the Ziard's commander, whose advance portrayed great skill.

[zmflavius]

Zmflavius charged into the other adventurers, sword swinging. Meanwhile, he yelled at Elrohir,

"The City Guard is coming, under Sub-Commander Elyi. Because, by the looks of things, Commander Mithyim has fallen asleep and won't wake up. Do you really want to face the City Guard of Graldok?"

If truth be told, while Zmflavius was certain that Elyi, corrupt to the core, would aid Ziard, he was less than certain about any of Elyi's men, Tysians, in all likelihood uncorrupted, and whether they would fight adventurers of the Collective. Not that Elrohir needed to know that. In any case, it might simplify matters if Mithyim was permanently eliminated, which ought to propel Elyi, a mole of Ziard, to the position of Guard Commander.

[Elrond]

The advancing Ziard commander's voice was full of contempt and hatred, "A half-drunk sword for hire is no match for the faithful of the Order of Ziard. Your demise will be quick old man! The lives of those miserable women were extended by a few minutes; but they will follow you wherever you go after your blood dirties my blade."

Elrohir gauged his adversary carefully as he advanced. The remaining 7 assassins had retreated a few steps to give their commander some room to fight; but they remained ready for battle. Their faith in their commander's victory was complete.

Singollo opted not to respond to the contemptuous words. Instead, he launched a quick succession of masterful strikes against his adversary to test his defense. And the Ziard commander was up to the test, but just barely. And Elrohir knew from the look in the commander's eyes that his adversary has started to realize that he isn't fighting a half-drunk sailor.

Elrohir pressed on with a new series of strikes; and the commander fell back. The old man did not press further. Instead he jumped back and said,

"The Thane's city guards will be coming shortly. The sound of this battle will raise the alarm in the whole city. Your futile incursion into our city will end with all of you in chains. Flee now or face the gallows in the morning."

The commander shot back, "Your tongue is sharp for a dead dog!" But his words were empty; and the Ziard assassins knew that time was not on their side.

One of the assassins spoke from the back, "We have already exceeded the operation's time limit. The mole and ZmFlavius underestimated the strength of the enemy. For that they must bear responsibility."

The commander shot back at the Ziard that spoke, "Silence, fool! Do not show fear in front of the enemy."

The assassin replied harshly, "It is not fear commander, for we are ready to die for the honor of Ziard. But you know that this raid was ill-planned. The shame of imprisonment will taint our Order's Eldars. We must leave now."

The commander cursed, then turned towards Elrohir, "We shall meet again old man!"

The eight Ziards retreated outside the collective.

As soon as they were out, Elrohir summoned a powerful warding spell to close the back entrance. He then turned to Maree and said, "Stay here and take care of the girls. And please say a prayer for the servant and close his eyes. I'll be back."

The old man rushed to the bar to rejoin the battle.

The scene of blood and gore was gruesome; and the air was heavy with the smell of blood and sweat. It seemed as if death hung in the air. Two adventurers were down and eight assassins were sprawled on the floor, having met their demise.

Elrohir's magnified his voice to over ride the sound of the battle, "Your raid was ill-planned! You've underestimated our force; and the Thane's personal guard is already on the way. Flee now; or your imprisonment shall disgrace Ziard even further."

The fighting stopped as the assassins took a defensive stance and looked at ZmFlavius.

Elrohir took the opportunity and said, "By the privilege of being the oldest member of the Red Door present, I ask all adventurers to retreat to me. We shall have our revenge another day. But tonight, we will allow these raiders the chance to flee."

Haryld was the first to retreat towards Elrohir; and the remaining adventurers did likewise.

An assassin looked at ZmFlavius, "This old man coming back from the backdoor is an ill omen. The rear attack force should have arrived already; and we cannot risk imprisonment. For the honor of Ziard, retreat immediately."

ZmFlavius' eyes burned with rage! The Assassins have over-ridden his authority due to failure to lead and defend the honor of Ziard. He directed a parting shot at the adventurers, "We shall meet again, scum of the earth, parasites."

*********************************

The day of the failed Ziard raid remained a day of remembrance forever behind the Red Door. The heroic feats of Haryld De Boigne and the 10 adventurers were sung around the fire by adventurers long after the heroes of the song had passed away. The fallen adventurers, Matt Red-beard of Kolnia and Zacka the bold of Graldok, had their names inscribed on the mantle of the bar's fireplace.

The disgraced name of ZmFlavius was forever removed from the Red Door's membership list; and he was pronounced a traiter. But his demise was not at the hands of a member of the Red Door. All news about him ceased after the raid.

*********************************

Elrohir stood and watched the last of the Ziards leave the collective. And when the last one left, he sheathed his sword and went to check on the fallen adventurers. They were dead; and no healer of this world could help them. He closed their eyes and offered a silent prayer.

He turned to the other adventurers and was glad that none were injured seriously.

Haryld's voice reached Elrohir's ears as he pent over the fallen adventurers.

"Do not remove the bodies of the Ziards. Let the Thane see the evidence for himself."

However, something strange happened just as Haryld finished his sentence. A nauseating stench filled the collective as a strong breeze swept through. The bodies of the dead Ziards and adventurers simply disappeared.

Everyone was dumbfounded!

Elrohir stood and went over the Haryld, and looked at him inquisitively.

De Boigne spoke softly and only Elrohir heard him, "Damn it! I forgot about that! The Ziard Order's magic does not leave bodies behind. The only thing that they haven't solved is imprisonment. That is why 'honorable suicide' is taught to all assassins who pass the initial training."

Maree's head peeked from behind the curtain and her voice broke the silence, "Where did the Ziards go?"

[zmflavius]

Deep in the Alspuin Mountains, the remaining sixteen assassins gathered.

Synra was the first to speak.

"Well, that was a mess."

The remaining assassins nodded in agreement.

He then turned to Zmflavius.

"We should speak privately."

Slightly further from the assassins' camp, he said,

"This raid was your idea. Lord Rath will not be pleased to hear about it."

"I'll deal with that when the time co-Wait. Did you say Lord Rath?"

"Yes. Tito and Lyraiber are dead now. This, I suppose, would be fortunate for you. Had Eldar Lyraiber successfully killed his two rivals, or even if Eldar Tito had done such to Lyraiber and Rath, you would probably be executed upon returning to Ziard. As it happens, this unfortunate botch of yours will simply be swept under the rug and forgotten, or, if it has that much political fallout, will destroy any chance you have for promotion."

"Don't worry about political fallout. That's been taken care of."

At this, Synra raised an eyebrow, but motioned for Zmflavius to continue.

"You'll see. Oh, and by the way, now that two of the three Eldar Consuls are dead, how are the rest of the Eldars reacting?"

"Well, obviously, the Eldars who were Lyraiber's clients are raising a fuss. Same with Tito. Everyone else is fairly quiet. Also, rumours are going around that Rath is using the Ziardian government's assets to purge his political enemies.

Which brings me to my next point.

You won't be able to show your face for a bit; The people aren't going to be pleased with this. In the wake of the random violence of the purges, violent crime, particularly revenge killings, is spiking, and Rath can't do a thing lest he risk his own personal purges, so he's right now giving everyone a degree of freedom in avenging their personal grudges. Everyone who stands moderately high in his favour is getting personal bodyguards from the government, but everyone else is fair game. It's saving Rath some work as well, and taking some responsibility from him for the purges. However, after this failed raid, no number of bodyguards will keep the mob from you. As it happens, Rath has a new assignment for you."

Synra paused for a moment. Zmflavius took the opportunity to ask,

"And, what will happen to you now?"

"Well, it so happens that Rath's men arrested the Director of the ZDIA, two of his aides, and his Vice Director, and Rath had them all executed for crimes against the state. He requires a new Director, one who has seen first-hand the problems evident in this raid, who can revise the rules of our secret police, but who is not directly to blame for the failure."

"You."

"Yep. And two more things. As my first decree as Director of the ZDIA, the Order of Assassins is being dissolved. This failure has shown that the assassins cannot handle the adventurers who make up an increasingly large number of our targets, but as we have already known, are overkill for any other targets. Eldars Thilyoro and Sirghor, who formerly headed this Order, are to be imprisoned at once. Both were a bit too close to Tito, and in any case, this failure can be traced back to their failed policies.

My second point: The ZDIA has decided that our spy network in Tysa may soon begin suffering damage as following this incident, Tysa no doubt will also begin investigations for Ziardian spies. It is fairly obvious that this raid could not have been carried out without another mole in the Collective, and they will take steps accordingly. In Graldok, our most important spy nexus, Sub-Commander Elyi may attempt to control damage as much as possible, but he has no way to control Thane Marindol, who is a friend of the Collective. So, we will have to remove Marindol. If a Thane dies, the King will have to personally select a new one, and in the time it takes for Wenreald to do so, the rule of Graldok will fall to the Guard Commander, the General of the Raelep Military Region, the Chief Judge, and the City Chancellor. We only need one of these people to control the actions against spies, and that one person is the Guard Commander. We will, of course, have to eliminate Guard Commander Mithyim, in order to temporarily stall any counter-espionage actions until we can reorganize our spy network, and extract our mole in the Collective. At the same time, we will need to continue maintaining our espionage network in Tysa, preferably in an area far from their jurisdiction, but close to key information. Such as, say, the Tysian consulates in Phiadon, Naidor, Koth, and Ryorsial. You will, of course, need to assume a name for infiltrating any of these consulates.

So here are your choices for your new assignment: As your new boss, I suggest you pick one of these assignments, and not apply for a new one: Ryorsial, Naidor, Koth, Phiadon, or...a return to the lion's mouth, attempting to assassinate Thane Marindol and Guard Commander Mithyim, and extract our mole as well."

Zmflavius considered briefly.

"You know, the Collective probably holds a grudge against me now. They will try to hunt me down."

"All the more reason for you to take a mission under the water. Even so, don't be surprised if adventurers from Tysa appear one day."

"Very well then. I pick..."

[Elrond]

Elrohir turned and looked at Maree, and said, "They are gone, Maree. You can bring out the girls now."

He then turned towards the collective members and said, "One of you go with Maree to take care of the servant's body. He was murdered during the raid."

Maree simply nodded and went back inside; and one of the adventurers followed her.

Each of the survivors sat on a chair or on the floor; and they started tending their minor wounds or their equipment. There wasn't much of a spirit to talk.

Singollo turned towards the survivors and was about to say something; but the mood was too somber for words. So, he turned around and headed towards Haryld, motioning him towards a table and two chairs that were upturned.

The two men set the table and chairs in a corner away from the others, and sat down. Both were quiet for a few minutes, each one of them recalling the events and battle.

The silence was broken when Elrohir took out the kill list from his pocket and pushed the notes across the table to Haryld, saying, "I've seen enough of those to last a lifetime. You can keep them if you want."

Haryld stared at the note for a few moments. His hands extended to the notes; and he started to study them.

Singollo remained seated and quiet waiting for Haryld to speak; and he was ready to wait for hours .....

[zmflavius]

A auburn-haired adventurer, pale of face, wearing an eye-patch over his left eye, carrying a pair of battleaxes on his back, and with a slight slouch, entered the Green Door. Despite this, he appeared to be very inexperienced. The eye-patch, in particular, looked to be a recent addition. This, as it happened, had occurred on the heels of some news about some adventurer getting into an argument with a fence, and having his left eye stabbed out. Apparently, the fence had taken offense to his implication that he would be able to help the adventurer find "an old friend of his." Or maybe it was because he was a Ryorsilian foreigner.

"So...does anyone know who Zmflavius is? Shifty guy? Wanted man? Favours a longsword. I've got a bounty note from Ryorsial, and I haven't been able to find a single trace in Graldok."

[Elrond]

Haryld went through the list name by name before folding the notes and pocketing them. He breathed deeply and looked up at the grey-haired man sitting opposite to him.

"They will not stop! A deserter's fate is sealed with a death sentence from the Ziard high council," said Haryld and then fell silent for a few minutes.

Elrohir opted to remain wait for Haryld to continue rather than offer a reply.

"I have run away for too long; and tonight's battle was evidence that they're catching up," said Haryld in a matter of fact tone, "And running away is not the solution anymore."

Elrohir eyed the man on the other end of the table with great respect, "It is wise to know when to run and when not to run."

"Yes, old man! It is time to stop running away and to start running after them," replied Haryld, "Because they will not stop running after us."

"Us?" inquired Elrohir.

"Yes, Singollo! Us," confirmed Haryld, "I am not the only one who deserted their ranks. The list in my pocket contains the names of at least 6 former assassins. But I don't know if they are dead or alive."

[Badstench]

The survivors were thus esconced, deliberating over history and Ziard lists, when the red door burst asunder.

Six armed and heavily armoured men stormed into the room.

The silence that followed was deafening until Elrohir spoke... "Once again, Fury, You're too late. The battle is done, the swords are sated, the deaths are counted."

The six new-comers whirled their attentions around the room, then slowly sheathed their weapons. The one of them dressed in black robes approached Elrohir.

"You're still ugly," he said with a straight face.

Elrohir responded, "That may be, but I've bedded 90% of your ex-girlfriends."

Judge Fury was not to be out-shamed. "Ah. That would explain why you look like gonorrhea got the better of you."

"And you'd know best about that!" returned Elrohir

The two men glared at each other.

Finally, Elrohir grinned. "Long time no see, friend."

And all were amazed when the Judge and Elrohir embraced.

After a time, the red door opened to admit the huffing and puffing figure of Gadget. "Did we miss the battle?"

**********

The Table of Eight stayed in Graldok for two days - time enough for Ezekiel to annoy Maree and for Scout to disappoint three maidens who liked his look.

Then they departed. Fury explained to Elrohir that they had troubles of their own back at Trithik.

"Is it something I might assist you with?" asked Elrohir politely.

Judge Fury nodded his appreciation at the offer. "Your sword would be welcomed any time, friend, but I know you have problems of your own here in Graldok."

And, with that, they were gone. Actually, they stayed and got very drunk on a foul tasting beer called Toe-Curler, and tried to introduce the Graldok Collective to the game of scrabble, but no one was interested.

They left the next day.

*********************************

Gadget asked after Johnny Gone.

"He's Gone," said Haryld de Boigne.

"Not on your foolhardy quest, I hope? Tell me you didn't let him go to Bentlimb Wood," beseeched Gadget to Elrohir.

Elrohir grimaced. "In all honesty, I quite forgot about Johnny Gone and his quest. The Ziard assassins had my attention. I don't know where he is."

*********************************

At that moment, Johnny Gone was riding his pony into the village of Hawklor, where he spotted the Stoneback Tavern and felt his thirst rise.

[Badstench]

Two thing are said of the Stoneback Tavern... 1) It's hospitable, and 2) The owner cooks up a tasty Horntail stew.

Johhny Gone ordered a beer and a plate of lambs tails, both of which were delivered within ten minutes. Within that ten minutes, he looked around the room and saw no one of merit, except for the comely wench who was delivering drinks and fending hands.

In all honesty, he had hoped to find someone who might join him on his venture into Bentlimb Wood after the vampire witch.

A bunch of farmers, a woodcutter, two merchants and a horrid looking fellow dressed as a ranger. The ranger was the most likely companion, so Johhny Gone approached him.

"Hello," said Johnny.

***********************

Meanwhile, back at Graldok and behind the red door...

[Elrond]

The restoration of the collective to its former state was a good exercise for the adventurers. Any stranger would have been dumbfounded by the sight of adventurers on their knees scrubbing the floor, mending tables, and doing some "housekeeping" without complaint.

The mood was initially quiet; then spirits started to pick up when one of them made up a tune that clicked with all. Thus was the birth of the "Heroes behind the Red Door" song that became part of the Red Door's lore, commemorating a great victory against the Red Door's enemies, during the decades to come.

The adventurers working to restore the bar picked up the tune, initially made up for to include the names of the adventurers doing the housekeeping and renovation work, and kept singing it throughout the restoration work. And in the evening when others came in the bar for their night's free time, they heard the song and joined the chorus.

Left out from the song, and the glorious remembrance of future generations was the name of Elrohir Singollo. He wasn't doing much of the restoration work. (The wisdom of this being that: you ain't a hero in the song till you do all the housecleaning!)

The rowdy Trithik bunch delayed the completion of the restoration process. They were all bent in testing "Toe Curler;" and adding it to their drinking lore. They thoroughly tested how many drinks of said brew would make a man drunk, how many it would take to make him pass out, and how many it would take to throw up. The tests went on for 2 days; and cleaning behind them was more than enough for Maree's serving girls and the survivors.

Finally, three days and 2 nights after the departure of the Trithik bunch, all work was done; and the bar was restored to its former state.

The survivors were celebrating the event, and singing their housekeeping song.

Suddenly the Red Door burst open, and in barged a very unwelcome sight. Everyone instinctively turned their heads towards the door as it slammed. A moment of complete silence was followed by a collective "groan!"

"Where is that idiot that tripped over my boots a few days back?" Barked Rokkmokkara!

Maree smiled despite the agitation of seeing the collective's worst customer. She was thinking, "back to normal!" And she answered Rokk's questions, "Rokky, dear, we all missed you. Have a drink on the house before I tell you where you can find that clumsy little chap!"

Rokk was taken by complete surprise! "A drink on the house?" He said as he eyed Maree suspiciously. "You aren't pulling any tricks on me, are you Maree?"

A serving girl put a large mug spilling with drink on the table near Rokk. She smiled and invited him to sit down.

The dumbfounded prick sat down and waited for Maree to move from behind the bar to join him at the table.

[Elrond]

Evenings behind the Red Door were back to normal, for those who did not witness the Ziard raid. And the memory of the battle still burned in the survivors' minds; but it was less painful.

A week after the full renovation of the collective, Rokkmokkara provided, involuntarily and inadvertently, a significant dose of the entertainment that helped ease the situation towards normalcy.

It took a few "on the house" drinks from Maree to ease Rokk's suspicions and break him into full, egocentric, half-truth, know-it-all tales of his heroism. The Rokk was unequaled in spicing up a story and turning a "retrieve the lost cow" task into "battle against the griffon hoards" tale.

But the highlight of each evening in the past week was Rokk's singing of the new housekeeping song. And in his obliviousness to the event in the collective, he suggested naming the song, "Heroes behind the Red Door!" But future generations did not know that Rokk named the song; and no one knows how they would react if they knew; because Rokk's tale behind the Red Door took a strange twist; but that is another tale to tell.

Elrohir visited the Red Door most nights after the renovation. And "Rokkmokkara the Foolish Bard" made those nights a nice bit of relief. But the old man longed for the serenity and comfort of his home. With age, rest did not come easily away from Barad Eithel. Only in his house did Elrohir Singollo forget the troubles of the world.

And so, he checked on his horses for a few days and prepared them for the home journey. And even the beasts were restive, or so it seemed to the old man. And when all was set and ready for the journey, Elrohir visited the collective for what was the last time during this journey to Graldok.

He entered the spacious room and stood just inside, looking left and right. He saw his target sitting alone on a table in a slightly shadowed corner. There were no mugs in front of him. But before heading to that table, the old man stopped at the bar and greeted Maree.

"Hello! It is a bit quiet here tonight," he said.

Maree looked up and smiled as she saw the old man, "Hello, old man!" She looked around the room and said, "The Rokk is not in the house; that is why it is quiet!"

Elrohir smiled, "Never thought I would be glad to see that old fart in the collective; but he's done some good with his jokes, arrogance, and ignorance."

Maree laughed, "Yes, he's made us forget some those terrible things. But he's cost me a barrel of drink."

The old man was quiet for a few moments, then said, "I'm going home in the morning! My body is tired and longs for some rest."

With a mischievous smile, Maree said, "That is not a bad thing to do. You can take all the excitement and adventures with you. I've had enough to last for quite some time."

Elrohir laughed, "I might be cursed, Maree! Things just seem to happen wherever I go!"

"Yes, they do; but I'm glad it was you that was around." said Maree, and continued without letting the old man reply. "Thank you for saving our lives. And for that, the girls and I will always be grateful."

Elrohir did not reply. He sat there for a few minutes without responding till Maree started to regret reminding him of the battle.

Finally, he sighed and said, "The boy didn't make it. I wish that there was someone to save him. But there is nothing anyone can do about that."

He then turned his head towards the table where Haryld was sitting. He was still there without any drink in front of him.

"What's the matter with Haryld?" Asked Elrohir.

"He's been sitting there for an hour; and he's only taken a small drink." replied Maree.

"Please send one of the girls with two mugs of Palo." asked Elrohir as he got up and headed towards Haryld.

"Hello!"

Haryld looked up, as if awoken from a trance. "Hello, Singollo!"

"May I sit?"

"Sure!"

Elrohir was quiet and waited for the palo to arrive. And Haryld did not offer any conversation.

When the girl put the mugs on the table, Haryld wanted to object; but the smell of Palo changed that; and he extended his hand to the mug in front of him.

"Sorry about my rude manners tonight, old man." said Haryld apologetically as he started to sip the hot drink.

"I'm heading to Barad Eithel tomorrow morning. How much is Pyrond offering for your head?" said Elrohir sarcastically.

Haryld smiled, "One hundred gold pieces last time I heard. But I don't think he still remembers me."

Elrohir inquired, "Why was Pyrond so upset? Stuff like that happens!"

Haryld grinned, "He caught us in his private quarters!"

Elrohir barked out laughing, "Damn! That's dangerous ... and admirably daring!"

"Yeah, it was daring alright; but I was within a whisker of having my head roll at Pyrond's feet. My escape that evening was legendary!" commented Haryld.

"Have you made up your mind, Haryld?" asked Elrohir as he changed the subject abruptly.

De Boigne's expression went blank; and he was sipped the Palo quietly for a few minutes. He finally nodded saying, "........

[Badstench]

De Boigne's expression went blank, and he sipped the Palo quietly for a few minutes. He finally nodded saying, "........

....."That was then, this is now. I am a new man."

Gadget almost choked on his mug of Toe-Curler. "You think? You sound so high and mighty when referring to your past, then you send innocents after the vampire witch! Are you really so changed?"

Haryld blanched. "That's different. I'd go myself, but, like I said, the witch would smell me coming."

There wasn't one person sat at the table who was brave enough to say the obvious; Haryld was making excuses for himself. He was sending untested adventurers in pursuit of a horrid woman without so much as any claim to join them.

His latest protege had departed scant moments before the battle against the Ziard assassins: Johnny Gone had gone to Bentlimb Wood.

**********

His first port of call, after a hard few days of riding, had been to the village known as Hawklor. A few locals looked at him suspiciously before pointing him to the Stoneback Tavern. He procured a mug of the local beer (hammertongue, by name), and bought an extra mug for a disshevelled looking ranger.

"Hi. I bought this beer for you."

Hawk accepted the mug. "I've been waiting for you," he said.

"eh?"

"You're Johnny Gone, yes?"

Johnny goggled. "How do you know my name?"

Hawk took a swig of his beer before answering, "Judge Fury left me a message before he went to Graldok. Said I should hurry to this village and watch for a pimple-faced boy hell-bent on seeking for a vampire witch."

Johnny's jaw dropped. "Judge Fury? How did my name come to his attention?"

"A mage called Gadget, I believe. He was worried about you."

"Gadget? what in Srythak's name was he doing with Judge Fury?"

Hawk shrugged. "I dunno. All I know is.... I went to the Adventurer's Collective in Trithik and Vurii gave me a note from his worship ordering me to Hawklor. It said, "Of the utmost importance, stop Johnny Gone from going to Bentlimb Wood.

"So I rode here in haste, thinking the Table of Eight was ahead of me. I arrived just a few minutes before you walked in

"And now it's my turn to ask a few questions."

Johnny Gone held up his hand. "Wait. Who are you, exactly?"

Hawk, the youngest member of the Table of Eight, was tired and grumpy and in no mood for small talk. All he said to Johnny Gone was, "I'm the guy who's going to save you from a fate worse than death."

And when Johnny continued to look puzzled, Hawk added, "Actually, Judge Fury commanded me here. He issued the order, I obeyed. that's all there is to it. You will stop your search for the vampire witch."

"Or what?" The words were spoken before Johnny had a chance to reflect on the nature of impudence.

Hawk blinked. He'd imparted the order, he expected it to be followed. But Johnny Gone had thrown him a question unexpected.

Hawk threw his hands in the air. "Or you'll answer to Judge Fury. I don't know why, but if I were you, I'd sit down, get drunk on hammertongue and sleep it off... then ride back to Graldok tomorrow."

Johnny's mind was awhirl. For want of something to say, he repeated, "Who are you?"

"I'm Hawk," said Hawk

We have already witnessed Johnny's mouth fall open. Now it hit the floor. "Hawk? Do you mean The Hawk? The Hawk who rode with Dragonbane?"

The mention of the heroe's name caused Hawk a moment of pain. "Yes. I rode with Dragonbane. What of it?"

"Y-You're famous. Anyone who is anyone knows the stories about the Table of Eight."

Johnny's expression was awestuck, but his next remark didn't reflect it. "You look a bit grotty for a hero."

In answer, Hawk downed the remainder of his beer, wiped the spillage off his sleeve, and said, "Bish you! I've ridden hundreds of leagues to find you... didn't even stop at the Moonshore.... and now I've found you, I get praised and insulted in one breath! Judge Fury must have a good reason for me meeting you. He didn't say that you were a wanker, but".

[Elrond]

"What's all this about the witch? Can we stop playing games with that old trick?" Elrohir asked with some irritation.

Gadget looked at his drink and was quiet.

Haryld replied after sipping more of his palo, "She isn't fictional, Singollo. The witch is real enough; and the curse is as real as the man talking about it. It is a long story. And I am not making this up. I am trying to make it less humiliating by sending others to try and solve what I've failed to do for years."

The old man was flustered. "I thought all talk about a witch in Bentlimb was just talk. But now you say she's for real. Would you care to fill me in on the details, Haryld. You've raised my intrigue!"

With that, Elrohir turned to a nearby serving girl and ordered 3 Palo's, "Three Palo's on Gadget, please!"

The mage nearly choked over his drink. And Singollo smiled, "I think I have a 50 gold piece credit with you, Master Gadget; don't I?"

[Badstench]

In a different bar in a far-away province, Johnny Gone found himself handed a bill.

"But I only had one drink!" he exclaimed to the bartender.

Piripor was unimpressed. "Your one and his fourteen," and he gestured at Hawk.

Hawk smiled apologetcally. "Fourteen? Are you sure Piripor? I thought it was twelve."

Piripor nodded. Twelve for you and two offered to Lisbeth. She didn't drink them, of course, but the offer was made. It counts to my coffers."

Hawk shrugged as he turned to Johnny Gone. "Pay the man. Call it a debt of servitude."

Johnny was putting his wallet back in his pocket when he thought to ask... "Servitude to who?""

At that moment, an older man plonked into the seat beside Hawk. "You mean "whom". It's important to say things right."

Johnny had noticed the man earlier, but dismissed him as a farmer. He certainly looked like a tiller of the soil. Hawk saved him from embarrassment by an introduction.

"If you were awed by meeting me, then your jaw should be digging holes about now. This is Young Ned.

"Ned, this is Johnny Gone."

Young Ned was about to offer a shoulder cross, but the boy fainted away. The erstwhile mage could have caught the boy before he hit the floor, but he didn't.

CLUMP went Johnny Gone. It was too much. He had ridden from Graldok for three days, only to be accosted by a famous member of the Table of Eight. Hawk was one of his heros, as was Dragonbane. But to suddenly be confronted by Young Ned, well... like I said, it was too much. The boy folded and collapsed to the floor.

Young Ned looked at Hawk.

Hawk looked at Piripor. "May as well add two more drinks to the bill," was all he said.

And when Johnny came to, he was being scrutinized by two members of the Table of Eight.

[Elrond]

Gadget thought better than to reply to Singollo's question. He was cursing his bad luck, "Damn you, Simon Allego! Thievery was never for you. And now you've got yourself in a nice little rut. Singollo knows that you've swindled him out of 50 gold pieces. And he's about to reclaim it."

Elrohir waited for the palo mugs to arrive. And when they did, he started sipping from his hot drink. Haryld did the same without offering to answer the old man's inquiry about the witch of Bentlimb.

"Ok, Haryld, let us hear about this witch of yours!" prodded Singollo.

Haryld looked up and said to Gadget, "Would you be kind enough to excuse us, Gadget? I'd rather keep this confidential between me and Elrohir."

Like a drowning man snatching at a rope, Gadget nodded rather clumsily and said, "Sure, Haryld. I'll just take my drink and go chat with Maree." Anything to get away from Singollo.

After the mage left the table, Haryld looked at Singollo and said, "Are you sure you want to hear this. You've got a journey in the morning."

The old man nodded and said, "Only enough to convince me that this is for real; and that it is worth sending boys that way to earn their adventuring reputation."

Haryld sighed, "So be it, old man! You asked for it ....." And thus started Haryld on recounting the strange tale of the vampire witch of Bentlimb wood. It was a story of the most unexpected nature.

[zmflavius]

"Nobody? Truly?"

At any rate, nobody had commented on his hair, which, in additional to being incredibly messy, also was auburn, which was...less than common in Trithik. It also seemed to him that asking a wanted man's whereabouts was beginning to sound more and more like a dumb idea.

Finally, he stepped up to the bar of the collective.

"One Toe-curler please."

[Elrond]

As Elrohir waited for Haryld to start his tale about the witch of bentlimb, the latter's mind was busy with a long trail of memories that took him back to younger days, youthful energy, and abundance of ignorance and innocence.

But Haryld was not the everyday farmer resigned to toiling the land. True he enjoyed the physical labor and mastered the skills of toiling the land and herding livestock. His father's was a large farm; but he did not believe in hiring helping hands. His sons were born to do the work. And he intentionally tried to increase his flock and have as many children as his wife could give birth to.

Haryld was his second son and the 5th of his 16 children. Matwak Boing was a the envy of his peers. Whenever anyone mentioned Boing's name, it was the embodiment of "fertility!" Few neighbors whole-heartedly welcomed him in their homes. In a way, they felt inferior to him. And he knew it!

But such is the measuring stick for farmers, the size of the farm and the number of children and livestock.

Matwak's children were well-fed, in principle so as to work as hard as possible; and they tended the farm without forcing him to hire helping hands. With 5 daughters and 11 sons, Matwak's retirement plans were very pleasant. He always envisioned himself sitting on a comfortable wooden chair, sipping warm palo, and watching his children tend the farm and livestock.

On their part, the children viewed their father differently. Haryld called him "Miser Boing!" The farm met the family's needs and some more. And Matwak tied his purse strings tightly. He had a small fortune of a few hundred silver marks stashed away. And that fortune he touched only during his escapades in Talinus after the harvest, where he went to sell his produce, and "vacation!"

At 20, Haryld was his father's favorite "slave!" He was a solidly-built young man; and Matwak knew that he was the most capable for the most difficult tasks ..........

[zmflavius]

The adventurer sat outside the Green Door, rubbing his head. It, admittedly, had been an unwise decision to not take Vurii's hint on Toe-curlers. However, what he was, was no closer to discovering information on Zmflavius than he had been before.

It was at this point that he met the bard, who had recently heard a song floating up from Graldok. Apparently, it was about a violent incident which had occurred at the Collective there, three days after he had left.

By the looks of things, he had also just missed Zmflavius.

[Elrond]

But Haryld's story is not just another farmer "fed up" with smelling cow and horse farts and trying to avoid stepping in their shit as he plowed the land. It certainly wasn't a story about a young man sick of waking up when the rooster sounded the alarm. It wasn't a story about getting too bored with the cycle of plowing, seeding, tending, harvesting. It wasn't about a farmer tired of watching bulls jump on cows, horses on mares, rams on goats, or chicken bending over for the rooster. It certainly wasn't about a young farmer enlisted in the army to discover a better life away from the farm.

Haryld's story is simply about the basic human instinct of survival. It is the life of a man on the run. He has been forced to fight for his survival from the young age of 20. Haryld's life combined being hunted and the hunter; with each part having its own players and stories ......

[zmflavius]

The tavern was an evil-looking place. While not in 'The End' itself, it was back-to-back with the houses which did make up the end, and it remained an open secret that the place held a few ancient smuggling tunnels there, good for both sneaking weapons in past the Thane's guards, and for an escape from 'The End' in the event of a raid.

The last tavern-keeper had threatened to rip out Rufus's tongue if he asked for a mug of Toe-curler, but had been kind enough to point him to Dolabra's. Reportedly, the tavern-keeper always kept an open ear, and no gossip slipped past her. It was not said in his presence that people with gossip worth hearing did not frequent her tavern, and would not share it in any case. Nor was it mentioned to her that said people with gossip worth hearing had a tendency to disappear in the general vicinity of the tavern, usually while out for a nice shave.

Dolabra, however, maintained that since her pies smelled like pork, tasted like pork, and looked like pork (though critics have pointed out that ground meat generally can't be identified by look), they probably were pork.

Rufus, however, was indiscreet and tactless by nature.

Fortunately for him, the old man sitting in the corner was willing to intercede on his behalf, following an ill-chosen comment about the pies being "the worst pies in Sryth."

"Now, your name is Rufus, correct? And you are searching for information on Zmflavius? Oh? You have heard of some incident in Graldok. Sit tight, this might take a while to explain. Oh, don't worry. The new song isn't a complete rendition of the whole tale. Not surprising, some of the heroes of the Red Door were left out, for some reason or other, and in any case, there is a great deal of background information that doesn't make for a good song. Among other things. But, before I tell you that story, I need to tell you this story."

Five Years Ago - Outside of Ziard

The final blow in the suppression of the Phoyim Clan should have ended the family once and for all. It didn't, for a number of reasons. Chief among them was the refusal of a soldier in the Ziardian military to follow orders to kill Eria, Lady of the Phoyim. There is another story about her, but it takes place near two years later.

Directly following his refusal to kill Eria, the soldier, Haryld de Boigne, fled, but he went to ground immediately. He was hunted, of course, but the Ziardian government still expressed an interest in taking him alive. Desertion, especially following unpalatable orders, was not unknown in the soldier-assassin corps.

This, however, all changed two months following the incident. Four soldier-assassins, Synra, Zmflavius, Naedra, and Len, caught up with him just outside Raelep Pass.

Four soldier-assassins would enter the Pass, and two would leave in the same direction, significantly less alive.
At this point, the old man halted.

"Get me a drink, will you? I have a thirst."

[Badstench]

Haryld sighed, "So be it, old man! You asked for it ....." And thus started Haryld on recounting the strange tale of the vampire witch of Bentlimb wood. It was a story of the most unexpected nature.

Haryld's story is simply about the basic human instinct of survival. It is the life of a man on the run. He has been forced to fight for his survival from the young age of 20. Haryld's life combined being hunted and the hunter; with each part having its own players and stories ......

Elrohir warded the beginning of the tale with an up-raised hand. "Before you begin, friend Haryld, let me fill this table with tankards of Toe-Curler. I don't want the story interupted once begun."

Maree was counting the profit on two trays full of beer and thinking kindly of Haryld de Boigne of a sudden. His story had some use after all... if only for the clink of coin to her coffers.

Drinks poured, she motioned for the serving girl (Bulimia, by name) to take her place, then joined the growing audience at the shadowed table. It seemed a lot of people were interested to hear the story behind the vampire witch of Bentlimb Wood.

Strangely, Gadget was looking embarrassed. His hue was redder and more blushed with every listener who joined the crowd around the shadowed table.

Elrohir handed a beer to Haryld, Gadget and the fellow with the gingier moustache, then slapped away the hands of everyone else. "Go buy your own," he growled.

With beer in hand, Elrohir leaned forward in full expectation of a glorious tale.

What he got instead was this....

********************

"Her name... her true name... well, I think it was her true name, but she's a witch, so I can't vouch if she ever told me the truth. You'd think she would, her being the love-of-my-life and all.

"She gave her name as 'Grezelda', without middle or last names. I didn't care. She was comely. In truth, she was beautiful.

"I met her on a wooded path near the village of Hawklor, weeping by the side of the road. Me, being a gallant gentleman, reigned my steed to a halt and asked her, "What troubles you, my lady?" I asked

"I had three companions with me that day, and all were amazed at my effrontery. They were wont to ride on, the promise of the Stoneback Tavern at journey's end, but I was not so quick to spur my horse.

"I paused, smitten by the lovely creature.

"My companions smirked, thinking I was keen to exercise my manhood.

"We'll see you after you've finished," they said with a laugh, and rode away. They left me in the company of this weeping woman.

"They left me alone with the vampire witch!"

******

"Her eyes were black as midnight, her hair was long and dark. But her smile was like a ray of starlight that beamed into my soul.... I loved her there and then, and never has a love burned so brightly by the sun. Perhaps I should have heeded the warning... she was a child of the night... but all I saw was her beauty, her ephemereal delight, her promise.

"It's true, I was smitten... and more... I was captivated."

At this point, Haryld gulped from a mug of Toe-Curler to it's bottom, then grabbed another from the tray. In the pause of his silence, a scoffing voice from one of the listeners said... "What bollocks! this is a man's fantasy!"

Haryld glared the opinionator down. "I wish it were so, loud-mouth, for then I could claim unreality to what transpired afterward."

[Elrond]

Elrohir was listening to Haryld's tale with anticipation. He smiled at the man who doubted Haryld and said, "Man, it is a nice tale; and Haryld the bard is at his best tonight." He then turned to Haryld saying, "Go on, Master Haryld! Your tales and life are full of surprises."

With that, he waited for De Boigne to continue his story .....

[Badstench]

Haryld took a moment to compose himself after a swig of Toe-Curler resulted in a coughing fit.

Gadget slapped him on the back and said, "Well, now you've started the story, you may as well continue."

Haryld sighed.

"The girl explained that a rather nasty fellow had recently moved into the area and claimed her land, dispossessing her of hearth and home. She had been cast out... estranged from all she held dear.

"I was outraged. How could any man treat such a lovely girl so abominably?

"Said I to her, 'Who is this man? Where can I find him to teach him morals?

"Said she, 'He lives nearby in a big mansion. He is a monster who demands much.'

"I asked the girl to lead me to the mansion of her Overlord, and thus came to a building with a big sign that proclaimed it to be "The Chambers House."

At the mention of The Chambers House, Elrohir spurted a mouthful of beer over the table...

"The Chambers House? But that's the abode of Judge Fury!"

Haryld nodded. "I didn't know it at the time, but I do now.

"We arrived at the head of the drive to the mansion, only to be greeted by a sign that said, Beware the Trossk

"Not knowing what a Trossk is, I made to pass the gate, but Grezelda stayed me.

"Said she, ' The monster who lives here guards his house with creatures. Perhaps you should come with me to the place where I used to live, then I can tell you more about my predicament.'

"And I thought that sensible advice. To know your enemy is to be forewarned."

***************

Hawk and Young Ned accompanied Johnny Gone out of Hawklor as far as the crossroads. They pointed the wannabe adventurer eastward along the road to Graldok.

When the boy had ridden out of sight, Hawk turned to Young Ned and pointed at the south path.

"Judge Fury has his house down that road. Shall we go see if he's home? I, for one, want to know why we were ordered to steer the boy away from Bentlimb Wood."

Young Ned deliberated. "I'm also curious," he said.

So the two turned their steeds south to The Chambers House.

[Badstench]

BADSTENCH INTERJECTION: It's important to realise that this part of the story is taking place in two timelines and in different spaces.

1) Haryld de Boigne is seated in the Adventurers Collective at Graldok, relating his account of the vampire witch to Elrohir Singollo and an assembly of other adventurers.

2) Two members of the Table of Eight, Hawk and Young Ned, are riding to The Chambers House, which is the abode of Judge Fury, which lies on the borders of Bentlimb Wood.

3) Johnny Gone has ridden along the road to Graldok, but he has no intention of going that way. He pledged a quest to Haryld de Boigne, and is determined to honour that pledge. He is determined to slay the vampire witch.

[Badstench]

Young Ned and Hawk were appreciating the countryside as they rode toward the private residence of Judge Fury, the estate known as "The Chambers House".

For the most part the ride traversed fields and meadows, but the far dark of Bentlimb Wood was ever present on the horizon.

"Why did Judge Fury buy a house in this forsaken corner of the kingdom?" asked Hawk of Young Ned after a while.

Young Ned shrugged. "Rumour has it that he's been considering retirement. Perhaps this will be his house in which to grow old and die."

The two continued their ride in silence till Hawk asked, "So... what tie does he have to the vampire witch?"

Young Ned's reaction was immediate. He grabbed the reigns of Hawk's steed and demanded a halt. "That is for Judge Fury to tell. It would ill-behove us to speculate."

Hawk quizzled at Young Ned. "Do you know more of this than you've let on?"

In answer, Young Ned levelled Hawk with a meaningful gaze. "There is more to Judge Fury than you know, Master Ignaceous"

At the mention of his true name, Hawk gasped. "You know my name? How? Did Fury tell it you?"

Young Ned let go of the reigns. "No. Judge Fury would never betray a confidence. I found your identity by myself. A few discreet questions in the right place can elicit enlightening facts, and I was curious about you. You were let into the company of the Table of Eight too easily. This piqued my curiosity.

"And the fact that you never join us when we go to Talinus... that was another red flag."

Hawk stammered, "Then you know I am condemned. Does anyone else know?"

"I don't think so. Dragonbane wasn't stupid, but if he knew, he took the knowledge to his grave. Regardless, your secret is safe with me, Hawk."

Hawk shifted his stare from Young Ned to the far vista of Bentlimb Wood. After a moment, he said, "Judge Fury knows much. What does he know about the vampire witch?"

"That I can't answer," spoke Young Ned. "For I don't know. But I must admit to curiosity."

**************

Haryld de Boigne contemplated how best to continue his story in such a way as to explain how infatuation became his downfall.

After a deep breath, he continued...

[Badstench]

"I accepted her hand and followed Grezelda to a glade in Bentlimb Wood where we came to a wooden hut.

"She led me inside.

"It was just a wooden hut, a one roomed affair that was furnished with stove, table, bed, and a set of drawers... and a door. The door was curious to me, for it was placed on the floor.

"It wasn't a trapdoor, like a wooden square, but a normal looking door of normal door dimensions. When I asked her about it, Grezelda merely smiled.

"Said she to me, 'Bear it no thought, my love', so I didn't... but I did notice that she had called me "My Love". The endearment enthused me with warmth.

"Did I mention she was beautiful? Let me explain her beauty... she was a full moon in a night sky, she was a blood-red rose, she was a beating heart pulsed to bursting. She was an artery of life.

"And I promised to her, right there and then, that I would right the wrongs in her life. I would slay the monster who was her overlord."

******

Elrohir was agog. "You pledged yourself to kill Judge Fury? The only reason I'm not walking away from this story unbelieving is knowing you didn't know it was Judge Fury who was 'the monster'. For two reasons...

1) he'd likely kill your ass first, and...

2) You're sitting here with a breath to show for it.

"Which leads me to think that you freed yourself from the spell cast over you"

"No," said Haryld in all honesty. "I left the hut intent on killing Judge Fury, but half way to his house I came to my senses.

"And in wondering why I was standing on a path between Judge Fury's house and the hut, I was confused.

"So I returned to the hut for clarification of purpose, but Grezelada was not within. In desperation of looking for her, I opened the door on the floor.

"Imagine my surprise when....

[Elrond]

Johnny Gone was a stubborn young man. The life of adventure he chose despite the temptation of comfort and easier life around the royal city. His father tried persuasion and threats, and his mother pleaded and cried. But Johnny would not budge or change his mind.

His father's last resort was to try and convince him to enlist in the Tysian army or navy and travel. But Gone was adamant. He wanted a sword, cloak, small backpack with a week's provisions, and sleeping under the stars. His father's last words before he left were, "You're a damn dreamer, Johnny!"

After meeting Hawk and Ned, Johnny's dreams of grand adventure were ablaze. Seeing one member of the legendary table of eight (well ... he didn't know that they were now the table of six) was enough to send him into delirium. But seeing two sent him over the edge.

He traveled to Bentlimb wood against Hawk's advice. The image of meeting Hawk and Ned to announce the death of the Vampire Witch played over and over in his mind. He planned out the celebration, and decided on what drink he'll order in the Collective in Trithik. Gone was about to achieve his dream.

Upon reaching the outskirts of Bentlimb in the afternoon, Gone set up camp. He decided to enter the wood and finish off the witch in the morning. He moved a few dozen yards off the trail and chose his camp site under a large tree. After examining the area carefully, he collected some wood and stacked it ready for lighting.

After a small meal, Johnny lay on his back under the large tree. Nothing could clear his mind of the glorious return of Johnny Gone to the Collective in Trithik. He dozed off for a couple of hours and woke up to find dusk approaching. In an hour it would be evening.

Johnny opened his backpack and took out a wrapped cloth. The cloth's stench almost turned his stomach. Wrapped in the cloth were a garlic necklace, a vial filled with a clear liquid, and a sharpened wooden stake ....

============================================

As dusk approached, Johnny wrapped the stinky cloth around its content and put it on the ground. He then took out his oiled sharpening stone and unsheathed his sword. Gone was meticulous in sharpening his blade. It was a ritual that he did with great attention to detail. Even the thoughts of the glorious return disappeared as he performed his ritual.

A soft, feminine voice broke Johnny's ritual, "Hello!"

Johnny dropped the oiling stone as he looked up.

"Sorry to interrupt you! But I am lost and need help."

The beauty of the young woman was breath-taking! She was more beautiful than anything Johnny had seen in his life. Johnny struggled to think, and he remained dumbfounded, unable to reply to the woman's plea for help.

Grezalda let the young man out of her enchantment to allow him to respond.

Johnny stuttered badly; but managed to say, "Hhhh .... hhhh .... hhow mmay I help?"

"An evil monster is chasing me." replied Grezalda.

Gone was slowly regaining control of himself, and asked, "Where is the monster?"

The woman smiled and Johnny found himself dumbfounded by her beauty! But he struggled mightily to regain his ability to speak. And he barely managed to do that!

Grezalda's smile disappeared; and she said, "Inside the wood. Would you be kind enough to help me?"

Johnny found it easier to speak, "Of course, but I need to know more about the monster and your predicament!"

If there was one thing Grezalda hated, it was anyone who managed to resist her enchantment spell. And the young man opposite to her was as stubborn as they come! She would not be able to tame him. And she knew what she had to do to get her way with him.

"He is a man, but a monster of a man! I used to work as a maid in his manor; but he was cruel. His whip's marks are all over my body!"

"Did you run away from him? Is he chasing you now?" Asked Johnny.

"Yes, I could not stand his cruelty any more. And I fled this morning. I need shelter and a protector for the night." she replied.

Johnny looked at the beautiful woman and his face turned red as he said, "You can stay with me tonight .... if you want."

"Thank you! You are a kind man. And I will try to repay your kindness!" replied Grezalda with a smile.

Johnny's blush deepened; and sweat beads started to form on his forehead.

"By the way, my name is Grezalda; what is your name?"

Johnny stammered as he recalled a distant evening in Graldok with Haryld de Boigne, "You're the Vampire Witch!" Johnny blurted in the same manner as he did when he proclaimed in Graldok that he was a virgin.

A sudden cruel sneer formed on the witche's face; and her beauty transformed into hard cruelty, "So, you know who I am! I wonder how a fool like you came to know that?"

Johnny hastily picked up the wrapped cloth from the ground and started to unwrap it.

Grezalda did not sense any danger in the man's actions. She took out a short iron rod with a black gem fixed at its tip.

Gone quickly unwrapped the cloth and did something he'd practiced dozens of times during his trip to Bentlimb .... He flicked the garlic necklace around his neck, grabbed the stake in his right hand, and the holy water in his left hand."

Grezalda's cruel laugh was the first sign telling Johnny that something was wrong. "Don't tell me you're a virgin!" mocked the witch.

Johnny blushed, but controlled himself, saying, "Prepare to die witch. This virgin's face will be the last thing you see in your evil life." And with that he opened the vial and threw the water at the witch's face.

As the water splashed her face, Grezalda smiled and said, "I will not make you suffer too much in death, fool! There is no pleasure in killing idiots!"

As Johnny charged, with stake high in his right hand, Grezalda leveled the iron rod at the advancing young man.

Johnny's last words as a powerful surge of energy hit him were, "Die witch!"

As the man's body hit the ground, Grezalda spit on the ground and said, "Another fool's head full of children's tales about garlic and stakes!"

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That was the story of Johnny Gone, adventurer! His life was short; but he died trying to fulfill his dream. And that is the life and death of adventurers. Grand aspirations, dreams, and potential. But very few are lucky enough to live and tell a tale. And even fewer live to tell a good one. Alas, Johnny might have lived to tell a tale if he'd listened to Hawk's advice.