A scruffy looking man in his thirties walks down a familiar alley on Thames Avenue, in a part of the city known as Axetown. Walking 5' 6" tall but crouched down some as if lame, wearing worn clothes that sported holes, Scruffy chestnut hair tangled atop his head, with a shaggy beard growing lengthy. It wasn't difficult to know this man to be a beggar with one quick glance. He carried an old hat in his hand as he walked down the alley towards his home. Doggle Grangier, arrived at his home and crawled into his small box to go to sleep. As soon as he curled up to sleep, he felt hands grasp him tightly and covering his mouth. Blindfolded and bound, Doggle struggled to create a commotion, he had barely allowed a scream to leave his lips before the swift hand covered his face.

The Thieves Guild
In the Summer of 1005, whispers flew through the streets in Thyatis City. Another beggar had disappeared during the night. All the abductions had happened at night, and all in an area known as Axetown. The Thief's Guild master had decided to send one of his finest thieves on a mission to investigate the abductions. Darlthenia, Thief Extra-Ordinaire, was the Guild Master's most accomplished Thief, and was also a fighter. She would be the perfect one to go on the mission he had in store for her. The Dark Hand had summoned her to his quarters, but nobody except the Thief Lord's own guards and himself knew the way to his quarters. Darlthenia was blindfolded and lead to meet with The Dark Hand. Once in the room, the blindfold is removed and she is asked to sit before him.

A quick sweep of the room with her eyes and she took notice of a bookshelf which she was certain contained a trap door somewhere. A large desk with a comfortable chair, but not much to clutter the desk. A pair of double oak doors which she was sure she had passed through before having the blindfold removed. Pictures and paper clippings hung surrounded by frames of all shapes and sizes. A safe covered the door to her right yet Darlthenia didn't show she noticed such things. Silently the thief waited to be spoken to before she dare speak to The Dark Hand.

Something has been worrying us for the last few months. Nothing definite but there is an air of unease amongst the Guild. Our brethren the Beggars of the Undercity have reported a number of disappearances. Not deaths, not murders, not mutilations but disappearances. We have had children being taken and exchanged before, that is normal. After all, rich parents want healthy children, so the Beggars swap any that aren't perfect for one of their own and the nobles give them gold to feed them for a year or so until they can beg on their own. You must have heard of Changelings, well that's what they are. Anyway, it isn't children that are vanishing its adults, the blind, the lame, the deaf as well as those who are just poor and don't have a home. As far as I know none of the bodies has turned up anywhere, the sewers, the harbor nowhere. Someone somewhere has a place large enough to hide these bodies, so far at least 20 have gone missing in the last 3 months alone. I believe it is the work of a high ranking senator who wants to clear Axetown of beggars, Senator Appius Gavius Longius made a speech last year about ridding the streets of vermin, perhaps he is the one. He has an estate on the western edge of The Estate District, not far from Axetown. Would you be prepared to investigate for us, if we provide rations for the entire trip, and a powerful mount?
The Temple Of Khoronus
At the other end of town, while Darlthenia was being spoken to by The Dark Hand, Panon Panaw was visiting the Temple Of Khoronus. Walking in, the half elf smiled as he had always found this temple to be clean. There were only two clerics mending and caring for the Temple, yet it seemed as if a fleet of Clerics were caring for it. Panon walked up to the pair of Clerics and bowed his head humbly. The pair approach him and after a long silence, each place a hand on his shoulders. They had a vision, and they spoke it to their fellow Cleric in a steady voice.

I don't know if you have heard about the disappearances around Axetown, but it has come to the head of the temple's attention, that one of us must embark on a mission. In the span of three months a large number of beggars have disappeared. We are asking you that your faith in Khoronus guides you to make the decision to assist those in need. I will provide means of transportation and rations enough for your entire trip.
As the pair go silent, Panon Panaw listens in faith to make a rightful decision upon whether or not to embark upon the task laid before him. The pair of clerics walked away from him and returned to removing an old banner from the Temple, only to replace it with a new one. They left Panon in train of thought with a heavy burden resting upon his shoulders.

In that moment, a Cleric/Paladin of Coellon enters the Temple silently approaching the pair of Clerics who had known of her coming. Asheera Loremar, had been summoned forth to join the mission as a companion to Panon on his mission. The pair would set out together on the following morning if they decided to accept the mission. They would have the rest of the day to get acquainted for this mission.

The Sisterhood Of The Sword
Amiri Morellen, A.K.A Duskblade, was part of the Sisterhood Of The Sword since she was old enough to wield a sword. Her mother had been a member, and birthrights had enabled Duskblade to join the Sisterhood Of The Sword. Luckily for her, she had remembered to pay her tithe of 10 000gp before the date it was due. The Sisterhood greeted her warmly and readily they blessed her. The blessing would enable Amiri Morellen to call upon the might of Madura in battle. This allows Duskblade to summon 1+1d4 of female fighters wearing chain mail and fighting with a two-handed sword.

We believe that the perpetrators responsible for the disappearances of these beggar women are Hattians, militant woman haters, probably members of the Storm Soldiers. All the disappearances have been beggar women. It has come to our attention that you are the strongest member of the Sisterhood Of The Sword. You follow your mother's footsteps well Child, for that we have decided to put you to the ultimate test. In order to be ordained as a recognizable member of the Sisterhood, we have decided your test would be to solve the riddle of the disappearances.
Amiri must decide if she will embark upon the mission to find the beggars, or if she will give up her allegiance to The Sisterhood Of The Sword. The only dream she has ever had as a child. It would be a simple decision for this elf to decide if she wished to become a known member, and walk alongside her mother with pride.

Thyatis City Streets
The steady ringing of hooves upon the well traveled path, reached the ears of any who where in the streets of Thyatis City. A ranger surely by the means for which she traveled, yet she seemed to enjoy the beautiful City that lay before her. Flyers nailed upon business doors, and anything that they could be attached to for the public to see. The mounted Ranger noticed the papers upon the door of the Tavern that she intended to enter. Dismounting from her Palomino, she read the sign on the door:

REWARD A large reward for information regarding the beggars who disappeared. Ask inside for more information.
Velkyn Moonshine entered the tavern and approached the bartender. She ordered herself a drink of Elven wine and sat at the counter, waiting for the tender to have a moment. Velkyn had decided to ask the bartender about the poster when he had a moment. In that moment the bartender returned and the ranger called his attention and asked him about the mission. Listening carefully as the man explained the adventure, but noticed out of the corner of her eye that a man got up from a table and made his way towards them to hear what was being said. The man would later introduce himself as Khalessin Silvermoon, Warrior of the Woods. The Ranger and Warrior sat in silence while listening to the tale about the disappearances, and the dire need to find the solution to their problems.

The bartender revealed the tale of how 3 moons had gone by since the disappearances had begun. It had caught the attention of everyone, though while the beggars were here it seemed nobody took notice of them. It didn't take long for them to notice that the streets bore less beggars each fortnight. Randomly beggars would just disappear as if in thin air, but we all know that is not possible for them. If that were the case, they would have finer clothes, and not be lacking nutrition.

Once Velkyn and Khalessin looked around their surroundings they would notice the bar to be rather dead, as if the city folk were afraid to suddenly disappear themselves. The bar smelled of stale whiskey and wines, as if the wood itself had soaked up all the alcohol in the Tavern. A flight of stairs led up to the left of the counter when one walked in. A handful of chairs surrounding each table, and a dozen or so tables scattered the wooden floor of the tavern.

Crowds had gathered to watch the trickster perform. Everyone was muttering about his skills. The mage had acquired the nickname FireDancer for his skills with fire. He was able to make fire dance in his hands, and it wouldn't bite him. He would often ask a bystander to hover their hand over the flame as close as they could to the flame to prove it was a real flame. Rarely a bystander would get burnt for trying to copy the FireDancer.

Ulfgar Machin was his real name, though a known performer of magic tricks, nobody thought of his as a mage. All his tricks included fire and the fact that they wouldn't burn him. He had tricks up his sleeves indeed. He would have a flame dance in his hands and it wouldn't bite him at all, but would put on a beautiful show for bystanders of all shapes, sizes and ages.

It was chance that he decided to stop at the Tavern to grab some rations before packing for his mission. Listening to the bartender speak to Velkyn and Khalessin he ordered his rations and allowed the pair to speak to each other, once his order was complete he paid the bartender and spoke to Velkyn and Khalessin.

"You ask about the Beggars, are you asking for small talk, or are you serious about searching for them and solving their disappearances?"

Panon Panaw was lost in thought, allowing his heart and mind to traverse the various time streams of contemplative prayer avenues that were available to the diligent servants of Khoronus.

The Cleric half elf had felt no sudden compulsion to visit the Temple of Khoronus at this very hour, no urgency of destiny to make haste to the Temple where he could ascertain what pursuit to follow. No more than eating an apple or swallowing cool water from a mountain spring for the mere pleasure of the experience [rather than to appease a perceived hunger or to quench a nagging thirst] would have driven a man to eat or drink out of necessity to preserve his own life. Nothing of that sort had pressured Panon Panaw to visit the Temple.

No, this impromptu visit had been merely for some precious moments of enjoyment to bask in the atmosphere within the Temple, to reflect upon the good fortune that had befallen upon Panon Panaw in the past recent weeks as a faithful servant of Khoronus.

Time seemed to stand still in the Temple and the half elf Cleric always looked forward to bathing in the presence of an atmosphere that only Khoronus could impart to his faithful, much like a hot bath filled with exotic fragrances blended in a deep tub with soap and crystal clear water, after a long and dusty journey would invariably seem to refresh the natural needs of a weary traveler.

This is what Panon Panaw had looked forward to this day. A time of spiritual refreshing in the Temple of Khoronus [with no demands upon his talents as a Cleric from the outside world] is exactly what seemed to be in order for such a day as this.

Now the half elf Cleric was confronted with a need for his talents, by those having no means to raise themselves from the social entrapments interwoven throughout the very fabric of Axetown. Troublesome times indeed.

Panon Panaw searched for a sign that Khoronus would weave his time with his in service to those less fortunate than himself. Less fortunate by poor choices or less fortunate by victimizing circumstances, who was Panon Panaw to judge?

He could feel the weight of despair filtering through the corridors of time and into his consciousness, a vision of beauty formulating in his mind’s eye from the garbage of the refuse of humanity who were silently crying out in fear to be spared this further torment.

Then he noticed her. A Paladin of Coellon, escorted by a Cleric, greeting the two Clerics who had left Panon Panaw to his prayers and meditation. Time was swiftly flowing as streams forming a mighty river. No need for any sign today.

Panon Panaw waits patiently and quietly for the two Clerics to bid him to come meet the Paladin of Coellon. He treasures these remaining refreshing moments of reflection in the Temple of Khoronus, knowing full well it may be a long time before he has the pleasure of enjoying such moments of solitude; what with the lost souls of Axetown silently whispering for help down the corridors of time!

Khlassin looked at the monk who had addressed him and replied, "It appears that something ill is happening in this city, to those least able to resist it. At this point I don't know much about the problem, but yes, I think I will look more deeply into this mystery. It is for such purposes that I first took up a blade."

Khalessin paused for a moment to see how the ranger and monk reacted. "What about the two of you? Are you joining the cause?"

Velkyn walked into the bar and after being there for a short time, she had questioned about the poster inwhich she saw upon entering. As the tender started to explain a man got up from a table and made his way towards her. She paid no mind to the man as they both were intently listening to the tale of the disappearances and their dire need to solve the problems.


After he finished, the man, Khalessin, spoke up,

"So how about the two of you? Are you joining the cause" He had asked. Velkyn turned towards him and nods her head slowly,

"I too, will be joining this." Was all the ranger stated.

Amiri Moondancer sat quietly in the corner of the inn near the bar. Her dinner completed she sat with a goblet of wine near her right hand that sh e sipped occasionally as she played her favorite game with herself. She would study the room and then predict for herself what the various occupants would be doing in anywhere from 5-60 seconds. She then would close her eyes and wait the allotted time. And open them and check her predictions. So three times she shut and open her eyes and recheck her predictions. That was how she noticed that first one then two then three patrons had gathered around the bartender and were listening to him. By turning her head a bit she could easily overhear what was been discussed.

She heard the bartender mention a problem that the sity was having and how a call had been put out for adventures to look into it.

Now Amiri did not think of herself as an adventurer but mysteries were something that caught her interest. She finished her glass and wine and rose to ostensibly get a refill. Moving up to the bar she could lisen better to what ws said.

“May I have another glass of this fine wine, please?” Amiri asks in the common tongue but with the musicality of her race’s tongue. Turning to the assembled group she states, “I could not help but overhear that there is a mystery here that needs solving. I would like to help solve that mystery if I could. Where does one who is interested in helping have to go to make it known tht they are interested?”

"Same ol', same ol'," Ulfgar whispered to himself as he entered the Tavern. He'd been to this city before, nothing looked too different; the buildings were dark and unwelcoming at this time of night, and there was that smell, that same smell that seemed to encompass every Tavern he visited. "Disgusting. You'd think these people would want a little more class," he muttered. He carried his bag and walked toward his usual corner of the inn. Watching his footsteps as to not step into too many questionable things, he looked up as he neared the corner and noticed an unfamiliar elf in the corner. "No class I tell you this place," he sighed, he'd have to find a better venue to perform. "It's half empty anyway".

He dragged his belongings outside, carefully placing himself on a rug just outside the inn and started to set up for his act. Ulfgar's eyes wandered across the street, there were so many things he didn't recognise: posters on the walls, people in the inn...

"Hey isn't that Firedancer?" somebody yelled. Ulfgar's eyes rolled and he, almost grudgingly, began his act. "Let's hope I get enough to eat this time," he chanted in draconic; the bystanders of course knew no better and thought he was casting a spell. Fire burst out of his palm, and Ulfgar began to handle it like one would handle the cool, slimy mud on a river bank.

He was used to the crowd that had surrounded him as he fondled with the fire, in fact, he expected it. The bystanders gazed with eager eyes as the flames danced across Ulfgar's finger tips. A few of the watchers even asked if it was real; Ulfgar expected these naive questions, they were always asked. The thin mage was beginning to get bored with his repetitive acts, he didn't want to be making money off of tricks anymore. He wanted something more.

"I've got to use this magic for something other than this," he sighed in draconic. The fire vanished from his fingers as he finished his spell. The crowd applauded, as usual. Ulfgar got up and slowly went around the circle with a mug asking for tips. When he thought he had taken enough money from the crowd, he went inside again to the bartender and ordered some food for his trip to the next town.

However, he noticed two faces he didn't recognise from the last trip, both elven of some sort. "Seems like the elves are invading," he mumbled, again in draconic.

But he heard the two talking about something, a beggar gone missing. Ulfgar's heart jumped a beat, he would be sleeping out on the streets tonight. He'd also known a few of the beggars around town, he'd have to go up and check up on them he thought. He stood up unusually straight. Almost excitedly, he listened in on the couple.

Ulfgar felt a cold hand touch his wrist, he jumped. "Your food sir," the bartender said.

After paying the bartender generously, Ulfgar walked over toward the two elves.

"So what this thing about missing beggars? I'm interested in helping if you need it. So what do you say," then switching to the only elven he knew, "friends?"

Amiri turns to the sound of a voice. "So what’s this thing about missing beggars? I'm interested in helping if you need it. So what do you say," then switching to the only elven he knew, "friends?"

“It is not us who need it, but there is a poster apparently over there,” Amiri gestures, “It has the information on who to contact. I was just going over there myself to get find that out. And to suit her words she turns from the bar and goes over to the poster to get the information from it.

Pursuing the information rapidly even thought it is not her native tongue she decides she would at least find out what else has not been included in the poster. Information was the bases of knowledge and good knowledge was the foundation necessary for one to draw valid conclusions.

Two weeks ago
The whispers of what was going on in Thyatis had, of course, buzzed through the Underworld of late and, as such, most Guildmasters – even those outside of Thyatis City – had caught word of and expressed concern over the strange disappearances occurring in that place. How could they not? The beggars of Axetown were a vital thread in the intelligence and surveillance webs of any number of guilds, after all, and any undue plucking of that thread is sure to rouse the spider which tends it.

Funny that I should pick that analogy, Seramin, master of the Thieves’ Guild in Cragmoor, chuckled as he traced a slender finger over the map spread on the table before him, considering who it is that answers our call. His glittering eyes followed his finger as it drew a winding path between Cragmoor and Thyatis, then skipped from the larger map to a smaller, more crudely drawn chart that represented the latter’s Undercity. Had it not been for the faint flickering of a candle which held one corner of the larger map in place, Seramin might have believed himself to still be alone in the secret room beneath his tailor’s shop, and worse yet, had he not reached for his wine glass at the precise instant he had, he might have missed that all too brief dancing of the flame that surely belied his visitor’s presence.

The thought frightened and thrilled the Master Thief all at once. Ooooh, he thought as his fingers curled around the stem of the glass and lifted it from the table, this one is good, isn’t he? A faint smile played on his lips, making it somewhat more difficult for him to properly sample the wine as he indulged in one more glance at his maps. “Delighted you could make it,” he said after a moment, his gaze lifting to sweep the room and peer into the more shadowy recesses - for surely that’s where the man would be. He lifted the wine to his lips again as his eyes focused on a curiously dark shape in one, far corner of the place; “I didn’t hear the door.”

“I didn’t use the door,” a somewhat amused voice whispered from behind him.

Seramin’s suddenly tightened throat rebelled against his first attempt to swallow the wine… I was certain that he was… The guild master’s eyes widened a bit and his faint grin stretched into a tight grimace as he fought to keep from spitting the wine out in surprise …but he’s right behind me isn’t he? That same mix of fear and excitement rippled through him again before he could manage to swallow the wine. “Of course you didn’t,” he replied, molding the grimace back into a smile before turning to face the Shadowblade who had so deftly infiltrated his hidden offices, “Spider, isn’t it?”

“Spider will do,” the raven-haired half-elf who now stood within a blade’s reach of Seramin nodded, golden eyes regarding the guildmaster evenly from behind wisps of the shoulder length hair that had fallen across the angular but somehow fine-featured face.

The Shadowblade was clad from toe to throat in penumbral hues of black, gray, blue, and purple. Black, well worn boots, crafted from soft, supple leather encased his feet and lower legs (the slim daggers sheathed in them scarcely noticeable at a glance). The legs of his breeches - also a dusky shade of black and, apparently crafted from the same supple leather – disappeared into the top of those boots and were interrupted only once between knee and waist by the thigh straps of what most called a ‘housebreaker’s harness’ or a ‘burglar’s rig’…

Curiously enough, also referred to as a spider in the Thieves’ Cant, Seramin mused.

…Above this, the hems of two tunics were apparent – a black one, woven from fine silk it appeared, was worn close to the skin and the other, a sturdier garment the purple color of a days old bruise, was worn over this. Between them both, Seramin though he caught sight of a shirt of fine, elfin chain, but he couldn’t be sure… if it was the rare, lightweight mail, then surely this shirt was even rarer still for, from what he could see of it, each link was wrapped in thin strips of leather or silk or, perhaps, both. It might have been easier to tell had the straps of the burglar’s rig not kept the whole lot bound close and secure to Spider’s sleekly muscled frame.

Seramin nodded again, finished with his initial appraisal of the Shadowblade known, at least in his own circles, as Spider. “You’ve heard of the goings on in Thyatis, I assume,” the master thief asked, tearing his gaze from the half-elf and indulging in another sip of the wine before redirecting his attentions back to the map of Axetown

“I have,” Spider answered, his voice scarcely above the measure of a whisper, “and I’ve also heard that you have need of someone to look into those happenings on your behalf.” The half-elf moved to perch on the edge of Seramin’s table, then, his footsteps all but inaudible and the rustling of his clothing scarce more than the murmur of a breeze. “What has escaped me, though, Master Seramin, is why you might have sought me out for this job when you have two, highly capable Shadowblades already in the employ of your guild.”

Seramin chuckled and waved a hand as if to dismiss any suspicions that might linger in Spider’s mind; “Marcus and Bastian are, shall we say, preoccupied with other matters here in Cragmoor,” he said, “and, at present, I can ill-afford to send them traipsing off to Thyatis.”

“Ah yes,” Spider smirked, his golden eyes dancing over the maps, “your upstart former lieutenant and his merry band of cutpurses. Quite the rebellion, I’m sure.

And what of the Lord of Thyatis’ guild, then,” the Shadowblade queried, “The Dark Hand, I believe, he’s calling himself, these days. Does he not have agents who might undertake this mission?”

Seramin’s eyes slid suspiciously in Spider’s direction, then, and a sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “He does,” the Master Thief replied, sipping once more at his wine, “and he has, in fact, assured me that he’ll be setting one of his own out on this. You know, though, Spider, that there is truly very little trust between myself and The Dark Hand or between myself and Banshen or any other guild master you may care to name for that matter…”

“Right; the whole honor among thieves bit,” Spider interrupted; a knowing, yet, somewhat sarcastic grin playing on his own lips.

“Precisely,” Seramin said, “which is why, thanks to an agreement struck between myself and several others, it has been decided that you might be our best option in this case. Unlike most of your brethren, Spider, you enjoy a unique standing even amongst other Shadowblades and that, my dear boy, is largely because you refuse to align yourself completely with any of our Guild houses…”

“The guild in Cragmoor, the guild in Thyatis, wherever, you’re all the same,” Spider shrugged.

“…You’re a mercenary,” Seramin continued as if the Shadowblade hadn’t interrupted, “playing inside and outside the bounds of all of our organizations. Your independence, as it were, also would seem to preclude whatever…ah…bias might be shown by any of your brethren who might have a vested interest in one guild or another specifically. Such a quality… I suppose you’d call it a quality, anyway… is particularly desirable in situations such as this, Spider.

The goings on in Axetown, you see, do not affect only the Guild in Thyatis nor my Guild here in Cragmoor. No, no, no, it’s much more far-reaching than that, you see? Whatever it is that’s occurring there, will have effects on each and every guild wherever they may be found. With that in mind, why would I risk trusting the Dark Hand’s agents to return with information or results that wouldn’t be skewed to his designs…”

“…And why would he trust your agents not to do the same,” Spider interrupted again, finishing the guild master’s thought for him. “Yes, I see.”

Again, Seramin nodded; “I had been told that you would. And,” he added, emptying the last swallow of wine from his glass, “since you showed, I’m assuming that the bid we submitted was reasonable?”

“Reasonable?” Spider grinned, almost laughing, as he slid from the table and padded towards a patch of shadow just outside the glow of the tallows that burned on Seramin’s table; “Yes, I suppose reasonable would be the appropriate description. Should the job be worth more, however, I’ll be sure to let you know upon my return.”

“So, you’ll go then?”

“Why not,” the whispering voice replied from the darkness on the fringes of the room, “I’ve not seen Thyatis for quite some time; if nothing else, the change of scenery will be enjoyable…”

“Wonderful,” Seramin beamed, pouring himself another glassful as his eyes searched the shadows, “You’ll keep me apprised of your progress, I hope?”

“As I can,” came the hushed answer.

The candle flames danced, again, and Seramin knew (or, at least, hoped) that he was alone in his chambers, once more. “Gads,” he shuddered, pausing long enough to snort down half of the freshly poured vintage in a single gulp, “Spider, indeed. We may have to kill that one if he returns.”

“Best of luck with that,” Marcus said, extricating himself from the false panel nestled between the joists of the ceiling above and lowering himself to the floor next to the Guild Master, “Tristan’s not one that I’d cross on a job, though; before, during, or after.”

((OOC: Okay, there’s a start… Part 2 coming soon.))

It was just about midnight in Thyatis. The darkened streets were vacant save for two cloaked figures making their way through the shadows in search of their target. Had any cared to be watching they might have thought these were they who were responsible for the disappearances of the bums in Axe Town.

She watched them silently as they went. Her green eyes followed their every move. Chuckling silently to herself, she knew who these men were and for what purpose they had come. She knew of the situation with the disappearances, some said they were abductions, and knew the Dark Hand had sent these two to find her.

She slipped from one hiding spot to the next, and remained undetected for quite some time. “Surely Mr. Man can do better than these two bozos.” she thought to herself.

“How the hell are we supposed to find her? The Dark Hand says she’s the best he’s ever had.”
A finely shaped eyebrow arched at these words. She shook her head. “MUCH better.” She thought. She stepped out of her hiding spot a short distance behind the two, a tiny stone bouncing soundlessly in her hand. Grinning mischeviously to herself, she debated on which of the two should be her target.

Just then the second man, slightly taller than the first, and apparently a bit older, perhaps wiser as well?, stopped and put his hand on the other man’s arm. He placed his finger to his lips and mouthed something to his companion.

Deciding to target the man who had so stupidly spoken, she raised her arm and let the pebble fly. She grinned in satisfaction and stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, as the stone came to an abrupt stop when it made contact with the back of the man’s head. The rock did not make it to the ground below, as the second man caught it in his hand, and held it there.

Without turning to see the perpetrator, the taller man spoke. “He calls for you.”
The idiot who had spoken turned and stepped toward the woman, a strip of cloth in his hand. She raised an eyebrow at him, an almost amused look on her face. “He is more stupid than I thought if he thinks he will get any closer to me without suffering a bit of damage.”
As if reading her mind, the taller man stopped the idiot and snatched the cloth from his hand. He tossed the strip of material to the woman they had come to fetch, and she placed it securely over her eyes. She knew the drill; None except the Dark Hand himself and his two guards were to know the exact location of his quarters. Thus she was lead to the Dark Hand in silence as she counted every step, and made note of every turn.

Once inside the Dark Hand’s “lair” and standing before him, she removed the blind fold. She gave a barely noticeable nod to the master of this order of thieves, and waited for him to speak.

Her eyes never left his face as she listened to all the man had to say about the situation in Axe Town, all the while taking in every detail of the room.

“I will, of course, accept this mission you wish to send me on. This matter shall be resolved.”
After taking whatever provisions the Thief lord had to offer her, a mischievous glint re-entered her eyes, and a sly grin spread across her full lips.

“Don’t mind me, I’ll show myself out.” Even as she spoke she placed the blind fold securely over her eyes once more, and was gone before any could protest.

This morning
It was raining when he caught sight of the first, faded sign that marked the outer limits of Thyatis. Not a true rain, perhaps more the sort of heavy, clinging morning mist that often heralded the dawning of an early summer’s morning following a night of earth-replenishing showers – but enough that, after having ridden through it for better than an hour, his cloak was heavy with the clinging damp and his jet-hued hair clung to his face in water-plastered strands. As he neared the sign, he reined his horse in and, for a long moment, sat in the middle of the road, solemnly contemplating the remaining ribbon of road that wound from this point to the city proper.

There had been a time when Tristan Drôst had thought he might make a life in this place. The buzz and bustle of Thyatis City had appealed greatly to the part of him that was a burgeoning thief, while the pastoral beauty of the outlying areas made the elfin blood that flowed in his veins absolutely sing with an indescribable joy. In those days, he remembered, Thyatis had seemed to have the same effect on Darli, too, and, of course, her happiness was all the justification Tristan had ever needed. Like his dreams of that idyllic life, though, he had lost Darli here all those years ago. Just as the rolling, verdant landscape of the countryside was suddenly interrupted by the hardened, grimy scar of civilization, so too, had those buoyant, boyhood fantasies been dashed with an unexpected abruptness…

How many years ago was that, he wondered, lifting one hand from where it rested on the saddlehorn to push a sopping fall of hair from his eyes, Seven? Ten? Tristan sighed softly and sat staring at the not-so-distant city for a moment longer. There are times when it seems an entire lifetime ago, Tristan mused, and others – like now, as I see Thyatis, again – when it could have all just happened yesterday.
…The job had gone horribly wrong … if it had ever been intended to go well in the first place. Tristan suspected that he, and as a result, Darlthenia, had been set up to take the fall on this one; probably for nothing more than to provide cover for a bigger operation somewhere else in the city. Whatever the reason behind it - be it a misstep that had triggered an alarm (doubtful, of course, but never out of the question) or if, as he suspected, they had been offered up as a token sacrifice – Tristan and Darlthenia had been discovered, very nearly captured, and were currently being pursued through the darkened streets of Thyatis by a force of private guardsmen and city law enforcement at least thrice the size of what their ‘worst case scenario’ might have ever indicated.

As they sprinted along a narrow thoroughfare very near to the section of the city known as Axetown, he heard Darli gasp in surprise and come to a sudden stop. “Tristan,” Darli’s breathless voice shuddered as she pointed to a group of heavily armed fighters which had just appeared in the road ahead, blocking yet another planned escape route, “look! We’re done for!”

“Dammit,” Tristan hissed, more than a little panicked by the seemingly never-ending supply of guardsmen that had been set upon them but more upset by the panic in Darlthenia’s large, emerald eyes and the heart-wrenching tone of defeat and resignation in her voice. “Not quite yet, Darli,” he promised through clenched teeth as he grabbed her by the wrist and dashed off down a narrow, garbage choked alley way (hopefully before the latest group of pursuers had spotted them)… Not both of us, anyway, he added mentally as they scrambled madly through the labyrinth of refuse and rubble. At its end, the alley dumped into another, perpendicular passage, making a ‘T’ shaped intersection. The branch to the left was closed off, Tristan knew, by a heavy iron gate some thirty feet from the intersection where they now stood. The branch to the right, though, after a couple of hundred feet, spilled out into a nameless street that unofficially marked the outer boundary of Axetown… There will surely be soldiers waiting for us at the end of that route, he scowled, frantically trying to formulate a plan that would, at least, see that Darlthenia would escape this escapade with both life and liberty intact.

“Down here!” He heard the shouts of the guards from the other end of the alley, “He’s trapped for sure… No way out of this one…”

Then, from the intersecting street from the direction of Axetown; “We’ve got ‘im boxed in, lads. He goes through us or he goes through Astor and his lot…”

“Dammit!” Tristan spat, again. Then, without giving it another thought, took Darlthenia’s hand again and made a dash for the gate. Once there, he smiled warmly at the elfin girl who had been his friend for as long as he could recall (and, were he brave enough to admit it to her, whom he had loved for almost as long) and brushed a long curling spill of her onyx-hued locks from her face. “You get over this gate, Darli-luv,” he said, “and once you get on the other side, you run, okay? And don’t stop running until you’re out of this city…”

“But, Tristan, I…” she started to protest.

“Shh,” he interrupted, placing his fingertips to her lips, “just go. Get over that gate and go. Meet me at the cave, okay? That’s where I’ll be once I’ve shaken this lot of bum-wranglers.” Before she could protest further, Tristan kissed her atop her head and quickly boosted her upwards to help her over the blockade.

“Good girl,” he whispered as her feet made contact with the cobbles on the other side of the gate and he heard her footsteps whisper away. Then, before the guardsmen had the time to reach the intersection of the alleyways, Tristan dashed back out in the direction of Axetown.

“Catch me if you can, bastards,” he shouted, making sure that any pursuers were alerted to him alone and called off of Darlthenia’s trail…
Shaking his head, Tristan dispelled the memory even as his gaze ticked towards the nearby hill where that long-ago mentioned cave probably still waited for them. He had made it there several hours later – with more than a handful of cuts and scrapes and blood on his hands to show for it – and had waited for the better part of another entire day for Darli to show. She never did, though, and once he convinced himself to search Thyatis for her, again, Thyatis’ law enforcement officials had somehow managed to be alerted to his hiding place. He had barely escaped the cave before another, well-armed posse arrived and tore the place apart looking for any trace of him. He had never seen Darlthenia again after that night, though not a day since had passed that he didn’t think of her. He had often wondered, over the years that had passed, if she had managed to escape or if, gods forbid, she had been captured and tortured (or worse) for her involvement in his escapades.

The rain had stopped, he realized, suddenly, and the sun was well on its way to brightening the new day. He squinted in the direction of the rising daystar, in hopes of forcing those grim memories and imaginings of what might have become of Darli from his mind, then set heel to his horse’s flanks and urged the iron gray mare on to Thyatis. Plenty of time to wallow in ages old misery, Spider, he assured himself, after the job is done.
Now The posters calling for adventurers to investigate the disappearances in Axetown had assailed him even before he had made the city gates and, as per their intent, had directed him to a once familiar tavern where yet another poster advised that those interested should inquire within. He pretended to ignore the posters, of course, and, instead, slipped quietly into the tavern under the pretense of simply getting a bit to eat, a drink, and perhaps some supplies. For a long while, he occupied a small table situated near the back of the place, watching and listening and gleaning any bit of information he could from those overheard snippets…

It wasn’t long before his attentions were firmly fixed (though not obviously) on a small but growing group of individuals whose conversation had, following some manner of introductions, turned towards their obvious intent to investigate the disappearances of these beggars in Axetown. He made a point of maneuvering closer to where the group was beginning to gather, hoping to hear more of why they would be undertaking this expedition, trying to determine which of them might be the Dark Hand’s ‘man’, and, most importantly, deciding if he might be better served to join this growing group or if he might not be better off making his own way into the undercity.

((OOC: okay… far enough, I suppose. Spider is ‘close by’ in the Tavern and watching the rest who have gathered with interest but, for RP purposes, still hasn’t committed to ‘joining the expedition’… He’s liable to freak when Darlthenia shows, though.

Edit: updated to correct misspelling of DA's character's name. ))

The Temple Of Khoronus
Panon Panaw searched for a sign that Khoronus would weave his time with his in service to those less fortunate than himself. Less fortunate by poor choices or less fortunate by victimizing circumstances, who was Panon Panaw to judge?

He could feel the weight of despair filtering through the corridors of time and into his consciousness, a vision of beauty formulating in his mind's eye from the garbage of the refuse of humanity who were silently crying out in fear to be spared this further torment

Then he noticed her. A Paladin of Coellon, escorted by a Cleric, greeting the two Clerics who had left Panon Panaw to his prayers and meditation. Time was swiftly flowing as streams forming a mighty river. No need for any sign today.

Panon Panaw waits patiently and quietly for the two Clerics to bid him to come meet the Paladin of Coellon. He treasures these remaining refreshing moments of reflection in the Temple of Khoronus, knowing full well it may be a long time before he has the pleasure of enjoying such moments of solitude; what with the lost souls of Axetown silently whispering for help down the corridors of time.

Asheera waited silently until the pair had finished speaking and she nodded softly to them. Showing her thanks, she had already agreed before making the journey to this town. She was new to the neighbourhood this having been her first trip here, she would ask her companion to show her around, and they would grab a bite to eat before going out on the mission. It was nearly supper time so she turned to the man whom would be her companion for this journey. A smile on her lips she spoke

Good Evening Sir, I'm Asheera Loremar Paladin of Coellon, it will be a pleasure keeping you company on this mission. I'm new to Axe Town, perhaps we could grab some dinner and head out first thing in the morning, does that sound good to you?
Panaw took her hand and gently brushed his lips on the surface of the backside of her hand in greeting. He listened to the woman's words and he quickly offered his arm for her to take so he could lead her to a restaurant for them to share a meal before they would embark on their journey.

The pleasure is all mine My Lady Asheera. Allow me to treat you this night, we can discuss our plans and yes we'll wait until dawn to leave town.
Thyatis City Streets
"Hey isn't that Firedancer?" somebody yelled. Ulfgar's eyes rolled and he, almost grudgingly, began his act. "Let's hope I get enough to eat this time," he chanted in draconic; the bystanders of course knew no better and thought he was casting a spell. Fire burst out of his palm, and Ulfgar began to handle it like one would handle the cool, slimy mud on a river bank.

He was used to the crowd that had surrounded him as he fondled with the fire, in fact, he expected it. The bystanders gazed with eager eyes as the flames danced across Ulfgar's finger tips. A few of the watchers even asked if it was real; Ulfgar expected these naive questions, they were always asked. The thin mage was beginning to get bored with his repetitive acts, he didn't want to be making money off of tricks anymore. He wanted something more.

"I've got to use this magic for something other than this," he sighed in draconic. The fire vanished from his fingers as he finished his spell. The crowd applauded, as usual. Ulfgar got up and slowly went around the circle with a mug asking for tips. When he thought he had taken enough money from the crowd, he went inside again to the bartender and ordered some food for his trip to the next town.

Ulfgar felt a cold hand touch his wrist, he jumped. "Your food sir," the bartender said. After paying the bartender generously, Ulfgar walked over toward the two elves.

"So what this thing about missing beggars? I'm interested in helping if you need it. So what do you say," then switching to the only elven he knew, "friends?"
It is not us who need it, but there is a poster apparently over there, Amiri gestures, It has the information on who to contact. I was just going over there myself to get find that out. And to suit her words she turns from the bar and goes over to the poster to get the information from it.
Pursuing the information rapidly even thought it is not her native tongue she decides she would at least find out what else has not been included in the poster. Information was the bases of knowledge and good knowledge was the foundation necessary for one to draw valid conclusions.

The fighter read the poster and managed to find out that those interested in pursuing the missing beggars would simply tell the bartender that they were embarking on the mission. The bartender would then make a list and send it off to the appropriate person. Amiri had also noticed that the poster mentioned horses, and food were provided for their journey no matter how long it took.

Thieves Guild In Cragmoor
The whispers of what was going on in Thyatis had, of course, buzzed through the Underworld of late and, as such, most Guildmasters – even those outside of Thyatis City – had caught word of and expressed concern over the strange disappearances occurring in that place. How could they not? The beggars of Axetown were a vital thread in the intelligence and surveillance webs of any number of guilds, after all, and any undue plucking of that thread is sure to rouse the spider which tends it

The Shadowblade was clad from toe to throat in penumbral hues of black, gray, blue, and purple. Black, well worn boots, crafted from soft, supple leather encased his feet and lower legs (the slim daggers sheathed in them scarcely noticeable at a glance). The legs of his breeches - also a dusky shade of black and, apparently crafted from the same supple leather – disappeared into the top of those boots and were interrupted only once between knee and waist by the thigh straps of what most called a ‘housebreaker's harness' or a ‘burglar's rig'. Above this, the hems of two tunics were apparent – a black one, woven from fine silk it appeared, was worn close to the skin and the other, a sturdier garment the purple color of a days old bruise, was worn over this. Between them both, Seramin though he caught sight of a shirt of fine, elfin chain, but he couldn't be sure… if it was the rare, lightweight mail, then surely this shirt was even rarer still for, from what he could see of it, each link was wrapped in thin strips of leather or silk or, perhaps, both. It might have been easier to tell had the straps of the burglar's rig not kept the whole lot bound close and secure to Spider's sleekly muscled frame.

Spider listened to the, Seramin, master of the Thieves' Guild in Cragmoor interrupting often for that was his nature. By the end of their discussion he had agreed to embark on the mission for a cash reward. He had decided if at worse, he'd at least see a change of scenery and find out how much had changed in Thyatis City since his last visit.

Thyatis City Streets It had been Two weeks since he had spoken with his Guild Master back in Cragmoor. Spider was enjoying the fresh air and empty roads, on his journey to the City where his skills would be needed. It had been too long since he had last been in the city. Last time he had been in Thyatis, he had escaped from an orphanage with a friend whom he thought about often. They had helped each other out growing up after their escape, until one day a couple years ago, they had been separated. The first thing he would do when he got into the center of town, he would treat himself to a mug of ale at the same bar that they would go to when they were younger. It was an inn at that time, and he wondered if it were still in business as he strolled into town.

The Dark Hand
Once inside the Dark Hand's lair and standing before him, Dalthenia removed the blind fold. She gave a barely noticeable nod to the master of this order of thieves, and waited for him to speak. Her eyes never left his face as she listened to all the man had to say about the situation in Axe Town, all the while taking in every detail of the room.

I will, of course, accept this mission you wish to send me on. This matter shall be resolved.
After taking whatever provisions the Thief lord had to offer her, a mischievous glint re-entered her eyes, and a sly grin spread across her full lips.

Don't mind me, I'll show myself out. Even as she spoke she placed the blind fold securely over her eyes once more, and was gone before any could protest.

Once Dalthenia had left, the Dark Hand muttered something unheard beneath his breath. He began writing a reply to the letter he had received in regards to sending someone from his guild to investigate the disappearances. Now he wrote the reply stating that their greatest member had agreed and would need provisions and horses. When he had finished with the note he opened the cage of a beautiful owl that he kept caged in his office and sent the owl, with the message to its recipient.

Once she had returned to where she was blindfolded she removed it and laughed to herself as she looked at the sun to reveal the time. It was early enough for her to provide herself with some supper and call it an early night so she could leave before daybreak. Having grown up on her own Dalthenia knew that the more you could get done in a day the easier it was to sleep at night. The thief hadn't known that others were embarking on this mission. She had seen posters on her way into the bar to grab a bite to eat, but she didn't know that those in the tavern were spending the night there to leave in the morning to find the beggars.

Mórchand Theatre
Voices boomed above the applause offered at the end of each poem, or monologue; every song sang and plays performed. The theater was willed to its capacity and people lingered outside in hopes of hearing some of what was being said. The Mórchand Theater was always a hit when familiar faces played within its walls. Tonight the show consisted of an assortment of different numbers form poems and songs to monologues and short plays. Headlining was a well known actor Alin Hawksclaw, and his crew, but everyone recognized the name Vaskar Steelsong as well.

In the audience sat an old friend of Vaskars. He was a Ranger Bard, and good friend to Vaskar Steelsong, his name was Jhaven Demeer. They had been friends for years, and this day he happened to be in the same Theater about to watch Vaskar perform on stage. Little did he know that his friend would come to him with an idea to join an adventure he had heard down the grapevine.

Vaskar Steelsong was a fairly well known spinner of tales from the far north across the sea, but what he lacked in notoriety he more than made up for with reputation and references. He had served under nine lines of royalty, participated in over a dozen wars, hired out as mercenary and is rumored to have quelled a dragon’s hunger with naught but his glib tongue, though Vaskar will never venture whether the truth behind that tale is neither here nor there.

As the applaud died down as the announcer proclaimed his debut in the city of Thayatis, Vaskar began to set the scene, his battleground, and warp the mood and atmosphere of the entire theatre to his performance. Having set up a basic choreography with the stage band, and accompanying their traditional musical influence with a little magic to bring his homeland to the mainland, the lights dimmed, and the show began.

Silence fell over those gathered, for a few solid moments, until Vaskar, safely hidden in the shadows of the stage could see the uncomfortable nature of those gathered, and he put his show into action. With a few well placed cantrips, small gusts of wind blew through the isles, brushing past those gathered, causing a stir in the crowd. As the audience began to quietly comment on the unnatural air about the fabled theatre, the steady sound of war drums began to echo through the hall, slowly gathering in magnitude Then, from under the large velvet drapery of the stage backdrop billowed forth a creeping fog. As the cloud of vapors spilled off the stage and began sweeping across the floor of the theatre, many of the patrons of the show drew their legs up into tight balls, trying to avoid the mysterious gas, while women shrieked and men tried to show their valor in calming their companions.

Then when the frantic nature of those ignorant of the master Skald’s performance reached it’s peak, Vaskar cast his Spectral Force, and from the billowing smoke upon the stage rose a dragon of crimson scales with acrid smoke rising from it’s nostrils, and with a great roar to shake the very walls of the theatre, it breathed a torrent of flame into the air casting a wave of heat over those seated nearby.

Women screamed, and men screamed, and Vaskar chuckled quietly to himself. Making sure his armor sat right, and his blade was polished to an incredible shine, he motioned for the band to start his queue, and a mandolin chimed faintly into the auditorium, followed by a great gong as the war drums met their rapid crescendo and Vaskar’s voice, aided by Ventriloquism spell, echoed throughout the hall, and he began his song.


From the darkness I walk into the light

From the day I walk into the night

From the shadows I will appear

With a message for all who will hear

For the weak of heart I will be strong

To the Defenders of Fate I will belong

To the last of us, fight till we die
till the keys of the kingdom, are mine.
As Vaskar spoke, he stepped out on stage, his gleaming armor shining in the light which flared to life in time with his footfalls, golden broadsword and silver shield in hand as he motioned a challenge to the dragon, which roared in acceptance.

There were gasps in the crowd, and Vaskar was sure he heard someone faint and hit the floor, but he was in the moment, and nothing would sway his concentration. As he turned to the crowd, and beckoned them forward with a cry and a wave of his sword before returning to the song.

All stand together for the world to see

Now the time is right

To live out all our dreams

Say the words forever

Your strength will never leave

If you want to win the fight

Say: 'I believe'
As Vaskar sang and chanted he swung at the Dragon which lunged and chomped with timed responses. As was practiced, the illusionary Dragon blew a gout of flame at Vaskar, who cringed under his shield blocking the torrent of red heat. When the flame breath stopped, Vasksar panted, and called upon the Audience to bolster his resolve.

“Come on everybody, I need your help to slay this dragon!, I’ll never get to perform for you all if I’m eaten!, I need you all to believe in me, so when I call “I believe” I need you to repeat after me as loud and as strong as you can alright? We’ll show this Dragon the people of Thayatis are braver than it thought right!”

At first, there was no reply, and Vaskar thought perhaps his illusion had been a little too real, until the sound of a young boy called out across the theatre “I believe Dragonslayer! I believe!”

With renewed Gusto Vaskar fell back into chant, slashing at the dragon as he sang.

from the darkness I walk into the light

from the day I walk into the night

from the shadows I will appear

with a message for all who will hear

for the weak of heart I will be strong

to the Defenders of Fate I will belong

till the last of us fight till we die

till the keys of the kingdom are mine



All stand together for the world to see

Now the time is right

To live out all our dreams

Say the words forever

Your strength will never leave

If you want to win the fight

Say: 'I believe'
As he fought and called out Say I believe, a few voices followed suit, and Vaskar urged them on with a beckoning of his shield arm as he fought his practiced foe.

Let all stand together

For the world to see

Now the time is right

To live out all our dreams

Say the words forever

Your strength will never leave

If you want to win the fight

Say: 'I believe'
(Crowd slightly louder “I believe”)


Let all stand together

For the world to see

Now the time is right

To live out all our dreams

Say the words forever

Your strength will never leave

If you want to win the fight

Say: 'I believe'
(Crowd getting really Loud: “I Believe!”)

And as the Dragon Launched a devastating rearing of it’s head for another gout of flame, Vaskar sung out with all his heart

If you want to win tonight say: 'I believe!'

(And the crowd in complete bolstered unity echoed with a great “I Believe!” And Vaskar’s golden sword flashed as he plunged it deep into the dragon’s chest, which roared and flailed in defeat before puffing out in a red wisp of smoke.

Vaskar panted and wiped his brow before turning to the audience and bowed. “Thank you all for believing in me! As I believed in you! You all possess a great courage, and I couldn’t have defeated the dragon without you! You are the heroes; take a bow take a bow!”

A Great roar of cheer and applause ripped through the theatre, as flowers, coins, and even the odd ladies undergarment were thrown upon the stage in appreciation for Vaskar’s truly innovative performance. Bowing another few times, and collecting his spoils with sword waves and a gleaming smile splayed across his rugged features, Vaskar took his exit, stage left. As he was leaving the backstage area, he passed by Alin Hawksclaw, who glared at him with obvious contempt; for his traditional—though beautiful- musical ensemble would be hard pressed to compete with what was supposed to be merely his opening act. As was Vaskar’s habit after performing, he made his way around the side of the stage area, and into the theatre itself, where he had a chair waiting for him to watch the rest of the show, as another simple aficionado of the arts.

Darlthenia traced her every step and turn back to the very spot in which she’d allowed the Dark Hand’s guards to guide her way. She removed the blind fold with a chuckle and looked to the sky for the time.

“Just in time to grab some grub. Best get this business of refueling over and done with before I start. Besides, my brain works better when it’s not nagging me about food.” She thought, almost annoyed with the concept that one has to take time to eat.

She made her way through town to the tavern. As she came into view of the establishment, her step faltered and she could hear the echo of a voice in her head. “Darli-luv…” She shook her head and moved forward.

Darlthenia had never forgiven herself for leaving him the way she had that night so many years ago. He had urged her to get over the fence and run, and would hear none of her protests. Her fingertips caressed the spot where he’d too briefly kissed the top of her head that last time she’d seen him, and then her lips, which were forever left without his touch.

Even after all these years her heart ached for the loss of the best friend she’d ever had, and her only love. She wished, not for the first time, that she had finished her sentence before he stopped her. She had been about to tell him how she loved him before she ran, and wished that she had kissed him, a hug even. Instead she had just jumped over that fence and left him to use himself as bait to keep those guards off her trail.

She had almost turned back when she heard his voice echo through the alleyway with his taunt to the armed men. But she knew his sacrifice would be in vain if she were to run right into their clutches. As it turned out, his sacrifice was made in vain after all.

She almost reached the cave where she was to meet up with Tristan, before her muddled brain, and blurred vision got her caught. Her mind wasn’t on the task at hand. She was too busy crying and worrying about Tristan. So she reacted much too late to avoid the arms that suddenly clamped hard around her and the sack shoved over her head.

She had been taken in for questioning. Beaten and tortured for information. She didn’t know anything, was all she could say. Darlthenia shuddered at the memory of the things they did to her. And then her heart shattered all over again as she heard that vile man's voice as though he were standing next to her again.

"Your little friend is dead. The bastard would not stop fighting and struggling. My overzealous guard snapped his neck in an attempt to subdue him." He had laughed an evil sort of laugh, his breath nauseating her as its stench washed over her face. "Come now, you see? You've nothing to protect. Tell me what I want to know."
Darlthenia took a deep breath and, in an attempt to block her mind from the events that followed, she shoved the memories aside, locking them tight into the box she’d placed in her memory just for them.

As she approached the tavern doors she paused for a moment to steal herself against the memories, and to be sure any remnants of the misty eyes were gone before she entered the room. Once she had a firm hold on her silly girl emotions she slipped quietly into the tavern. She stood in the doorway for a moment as she made a full sweep of the room with her eyes.

There was a group seated at a table in one corner of the room immersed in their conversation on one side of the tavern, a few others seated about sporadically, and one dark figure in the shadows at the other end of the tavern. Her eyes lingered on this man for a few extra moments, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she felt a chill rattle through her.

Who was this man, and what was it about him that caused her body to react in such a manner. She glanced at him a moment longer, then made her way over to the bar, debating on whether or not this feeling was a bad one, like a warning to stay away from this character.

“Needlemire,” she called quietly to the man behind the counter, “Who is the man in the corner over there?”
Needlemire, the long-time owner of the tavern, and an old friend to Darlthenia, glanced in the direction she had indicated, started to say something, then shut his mouth and shrugged. His face was strangely void of any hints of what he’d been about to say. She raised an eyebrow but decided against pressing the issue. She shrugged it off and ordered her usual drink and sat down to sip at it.

She kept her ears tuned into the conversations taking place about the room, trying to catch any information she could about the disappearances. She became slightly irritated as the image of the dark figure refused to leave her alone. “Oh for heaven’s sake!” she muttered to herself and took a long swig of her drink trying to clear her mind, and concentrate on the task at hand.

With a wry grin, Jhaven wandered through the theatre making sure to stay out of Vaskar Steelsong's sight. Wishing to surprise his long-time friend, he took advantage of his Elven boots and approached his friend from behind. As he neared Vaskar, he could see the joy on the other's face as he continued to watch the crowd's reaction to his recent performance.

With a quick clap of his hands, he said amusedly, "Well met Vaskar Steelsong, the ummm yes yes, 'the drangonslayer.' Oh how the tail grows, the crowd would not like to know that said dragon, was a wee tiny little lizard crossing the road, now would they?" chuckled Jhaven as he verbally jested with his long time friend. "Care to offer a friend a sit at yer table, so that I might enjoy tha spectacle as well, an maybe a wee bit of nectar as well?" continued Jhaven as he reached for a chair, spinning it around to sit down. "Aye indeed, my boots are muddy, and my breeches dirty, but I've yet to get a room and a bath, for I rushed right here upon hearing that you would be performing. Funny coincidence that has us both in Thyatis together," finished Jhaven as he brushed at his boots and arranged his cloak on his left shoulder, making sure that his sword arm were free. A small glint of fine chain mail showed beneath his leather jerkin as he settled in and began to relax in the company of his friend. Keeping alert for signs of danger, his memories of Thyatis, well, his last visit had not been a pleasant one. Perhaps, they had not liked Jhaven's music as much as they had enjoyed Vaskar's he silently mused.

"So, my dear Vaskar, what brings you to Thyatis? Or are you just earning coin performing your 'arts'?", he asked.

Khoronus made time for unexpected rewards to those who faithfully serve him. The Time of Serenity that Panon Panaw had so craved to drink into his mind and soul at the Temple of Khoronus had been interrupted by an unexpected cry for help along the corridors of time from the agonized souls of Axe Town.

Then as the Cleric sought to assuage the pleas in the timelessness of the presence of Khoronus himself, the Temple atmosphere washed away the pain of the tormented souls of Axe Town that had reached out to him in mere moments, graciously replaced by an inner peace and an outward vision of loveliness that stood before him.

"Good evening Sir, I'm Asheer Loremar, Paladin of Coellon," she spoke softly a greeting of genuine serenity, "it will be a pleasure keeping you company on this mission. I'm new to Axe Town, perhaps we could grab some dinner and head out first thing in the morning, does that sound good to you?"

What were these songs dancing along the corridors of time that flowed with her voice of greeting? Panaw took her hand and gently brushed his lips on the surface of the backside of her hand in greeting. Rippling the surface of the waters of the pools of time, Panon Panaw immersed himself in the moment and quickly offered his arm to the woman, flowing in a timelessness refreshing as he heard himself say, "The pleasure is all mine My Lady Asheera. Allow me to treat you this night, we can discuss our plans and yes we’ll wait until dawn to leave town."

Panon Panaw was barely aware of his fellow Clerics nodding and wishing the pair well on their coming journey as he fairly glided towards the door with his lovely guest. As they neared the entrance to the Temple from whence they would depart, Panon Panaw smiled contentedly and asked, "Now what type of restaurant establishment would be most comfortable for you this evening Asheera ... and what type of food are you craving to satisfy and refresh yourself before our timely quest begins on the morrow?"