Elessarae hobbled to the bed and sat before she fell to the floor. With blistered hands she opened a belt pouch and took out an oiled cloth to clean her blade before resheathing it. What would have been a simple action was slow and painful.

Next she opened a second belt pouch a took out her wand of healing. A bit of anger flared at the lack of care considering her wounds and burns and even her frozen leg.
She knew how close she was to passing out, a grayness was slowing closing in around her vision, if she were to pass out without the wounds being closed, she could die right here on the bed, making the Elders' decision easier. She concentrated on the most major wound in her abdomen, and when that seemed no longer painful to her probing, she healed the cut in her thigh. At least she would not lose anymore blood. She was not sure if the healing wand would work against the frozen leg or the burns.

What she wanted next was a cool forest pool to emerse her burned body, knowing that burns emersed in cool water were not as painful. But there was nothing like that here.
She looked about and tried to see if there was a ewer of water and a wash basin, at least she might be able to soak her hands and arms in it.

Her burns bothered her the most not only from the pain but from the damaget they could do. The palm of her right hand was untouch by the fireball as it was closesd aroung the hilt of her sword, but the burns on the back of her fingers and hands might end her hopes of being a Bladesinger, if they were not already. Physically and emotionally drained she longed to lay down but knew the pain from her burns would keep her from any sort of rest.

Elessarae slowly slipped tot the end of the bed and hooked her left arm over the end of the bedstead. At least she could keep her aching body propped up.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on something pleasant, hoping that would help her bear the pain. She thought back to her first trip the the MoonSteeds' River and the wonderous sight of the white and silvery horses beloved by the elves. It was high summer and the foals were frolicking about in the lush green meadows, under the watchful gaze of their dams, the herd stallion, and the elves that guarded them. A child herself, she ran out to play with them and they scattered. It was the day she learned patience. Finally realizing it was her quick moves that sent them running, she very slowly moved into the group of mares and then stopped and waited. Her patience was rewarded and the boldest of the foals finally came out to investigate her. She remembers their soft lips nibbling her hair and clothes, and one even licked her hand.

Licking her hand, she would not want the to happen now. Some trail of thoughts ended Elessarae's memories, a voice of one of her instructors. "Healing is absolute and complete, if you have enough magic to heal all that needs healing."

SHe did have the magic, in the wand and turning it on herself again she heals her burns. She suddenly sags as the pain diappears. Clean freasd pink skin formed under the burns and quickly changed to unblemished flesh, as if she had never benn burned. Except that the old burned bits still clung to her. She gingerly brushed off the charred skin and then turned the healing wand on her numb leg.
She was not sure if it would work, but it was worth a try.

Moments later there was a sudden rush of tingling, like a thousand needles stabbing her leg from the inside out. Elessarae reached over and began to vigorously rub her leg, until natural feeling returned.

With a final sigh of relief, she put the wand away.

“Is there anything else you might want to know? You could also come over to my home one day, if you like. I could clear up some things for you.” She said.

Geim was a little surprised by the invitation and replied “Why yes I would like to stop by your place sometime, but I am not sure of my plans for the next few days. I might well be on a journey starting soon. Perhaps even today. Can I check back with you on that?”

It was something different for her, being in a community of Khords. Their attitude was more gruff and hardy that what she was used to, being more serious in their lives. Plus, having men outnumber women several to one was something else she noticed, much different indeed. Most that she came across seemed nice enough and gave her nods or waves of greeting as she passed. Lysora herself seemed more distant here in this place as the Khord deities held more power and ruled in this domain.

Draven asked almost immediately for the nearest pub and got a direct answer; it was one of the Khords’ favorite things to do, drink. It was amusing watching the dark man swagger around in his air of what seemed to her almost like pride and arrogance. Maybe he had the right to be so, she had yet to get a good measure of his abilities. It was this mysterious about him that attracted her to him, made her want to know more. It was almost a kind of greed, but at it was not the kind of greed that made her want to possess what was rightfully his, that knowledge that only he knew.

A nod of her head was all that Alyssia gave to the guard in passing in her peasant garments with her staff’s butt tapping on the stone of the fortress of a cave. Draven made no move to hide from her as she moved to follow him.

“Mind if I accompany you?” the sorceress asked of her companion.

Khordal Kingdom
The Grand Library
23rd day of the 7th month: Pfier
5:31 pm
The librarian straightened her back, and leaned back in her chair. She regarded Geim for a few seconds. Then she smiled, and her skin, dry as parchment, tightened.

“Alright. Just meet me in the library, next to the dried fountain that praises the Umberhulk. I’ll be waiting with more information for you.”

She looked straight in his eyes, and for a moment Geim felt like he was being engulfed with knowledge.

“I hope to see you again soon, Geim.” She added, and got up from her space to bring back the books he had dropped on her desk.

(OOC: If you decide to leave the library now, you will notice that outside this room there is only a staircase going down. You will not find the statue of an Umberhulk, nor is there any such thing near the Grand Library.)

---

Maelamin Kingdom
Bladesinger Keep
25th day of the 7th month: Pfier
9:08 pm
Now her leg and body were healed completely, Elessarae could relax a bit. She rested her still tingling leg on the bed, and looked around the room.

Next to the bed stood a wooden chest, guarded by a heavy lock. Only one torch lit this room, and its yellow light danced up and down, as if moving on the fluteplayer’s still continuing music. But there was other movement, and the bladesinger turned her gaze towards that. A pair of feet blocked what little light came from under the door. A little rummaging with the handle later, the door opened. In the bright light of the room beyond stood the silhouette of a hulking figure. It took Elessar a moment to recognize the orc elf creature that she had fought in the corridor, not too long ago. It looked in surprise at the bladesinger, and instantly raised the rapier at its side. But, it wasn’t directed at the elven woman. With a swing, the orc let go of the weapon, and send it flying into the far corner, where it bounced against the wall, to come to a clattering halt on the hard floor.
Its gaze returned to the elf, and a bloody arm pointed at her.

“You! You put up quite a fight there. I thought you were an easy fly, trapped and ready to be eaten. Good for you.”

The voice sounded tired, but soft and feminine. Much different than expected.

---

Kharolis Mountains
Khordal Kingdom
22nd day of the 7th month: Pfier
0:29 pm
“I have to advice you not to go with your companion, miss.” The guard replied before Draven could.
“Although it may be a safe enough place inside, I would not send you towards the districts surrounding it. The Clouded Mug attracts people good and bad. Bad mostly. An interesting place for a man like your friend here, but not for the likes of you, if you will pardon my assumptions.”

The look on his face betrayed his sincerity. He looked a bit frightened. The thought of him sending a lady, even a ragged one, into the most shadowy districts of Khordal, was obviously not a good one.

(OOC: Not a big update, but I need you guys to make a decision. Go together, which is fine. Or go on your separate ways. Also, I’m looking for a few new players to replace Jozan and Drakar. Hopefully they’ll be joining you guys soon.)

Elessarae was up and drawing her blade when the door opened. The blade was at ready when the rapier flew across the room and clattered into the corner. She slowly replaces her sword, stands a walks, with only the slightest lack of grace do to the tingling leg, to the figure. Elessarae had the distinct feeling that the woman was not happy about the part she had, had to play.

"Come, rest," she holds out an arm to the woman, "and if you are in need of healing, as I was, then I can provided that much." Even as she offered healing Elessare stayed wary.

"Was this a test for you, also?"

Taking his leave, Geim heads for his appointment sure that somehow the time spent here had been important. This was a strange encounter. He had not heard of Mrs. Orebelly before this. The odds of meeting someone with information related to his mission was stiff. He wondered if he would see her again.

He would be late and did not like being late.

Alyssia looked towards the khord that had spoken to her and took a summary glance of him, “Have no fear. I may feel Lysora less in this place where your gods rule, but I know that she still watches over. Besides, he is my one companion that has remained with me on our journeys.”

The khord’s fears may be justified, that much she knew. No decent person would attack a healer, but she wasn’t necessarily going into a section of the khordish city that full of the honorable natives. This place was home to more than khords alone.

(OOC: The only way draven can keep me from following is losing my tailing him.)

Kharolis Mountains
Khordal Kingdom
22nd day of the 7th month: Pfier
1:05 pm
The guard shrugged at Alyssia’s response. He had done his job in warning them. Long ago had he learned not to mingle too much with other people’s business. As long as they were no danger to the kingdom….
He put his hand up in a greet and turned to aid his comrades, who were already busy inspecting the sky in a discussion about the weather.

Draven was the first one to enter the cave that would lead them deep into the mountain. Since Alyssia decided to follow him, and Tobin to observe her in turn, they all walked together.

The tunnel they walked in was wide, its surface even. Khords obviously had worked hard to keep the road into their kingdom smooth and functional. Although they had expected a quick descend, the tunnel moved up slightly for quite some time. The daylight had long since been drowned by dim torchlight and darkness, when direction changed.
Down they went, slowly and seemingly in a circle. The tunnel became a little more natural, though the paving remained smooth. An intricate band of carved ornamentation lined the lower side of the wall. The constantly evolving pattern of this ornamentation was the only way of knowing they weren’t traveling in circles.

After an hour they finally saw a light in the distance, brighter than the average torch they encountered so far. Up ahead they noticed how the tunnel grew wider, big enough for a dragon to crawl through. The bright light shone from a group of lanterns positioned near a stone column which supported three hands that pointed in different directions. Another tunnel also ended in this area, and the arm pointing in that direction was labeled “Geofel Mines” in Common and Khordaldrum. A track of rails came from that tunnel and curved into the direction they were going. The hand that pointed that way bore the writing “Niall Jiun – Warrens”. The group was told to follow the Warrens, and they continued their way.

They now walked alongside a track, and soon they heard the noise of rusty iron squeaking up ahead. A little further they walked into a cart, loaded with big blocks of stone. A chain lead from the cart, and attached to four harnesses, carried by Khords. They pulled the cart at a steady pace, and though their expressions were tight, their conversation amongst each other seemed joyful enough.

The group continued, and after another 45 minutes they once more noticed a change in light in the distance. It seemed they were returning to the brightness of the open, outside air. Had they taken a wrong turn somewhere? But there hadn’t been any turns to take. Surely they shouldn’t have taken the way into the mines. Their worries, if present, were calmed instantly by the beauty of what lay ahead.

An enormous cave, the size of a small mountain, lay at their feet. The tunnel had opened into a wideness that was almost scary. They stood atop a barred walkway at the top of the cave and looked down into the depths. A bright light radiated from the ceiling, to mimic the light of the sun. In this light, the floor below looked clear and inviting. Sparks of gems that grew from the ceiling and walls enhanced the enchantment of the place.
The wideness of this cave went on beyond their sight to the west, but down below they could see a stone platform, bearing strangely structured buildings in what seemed to be a garden. They became aware of a path that lead alongside the wall of the cave. This path connected to their walkway, and a stone arm indicated that they should follow this path to get to “Niall Jiun”. They were to keep the edgy path at the top of the cave to find the Warrens.
Thus, they left the cave and returned back into the stone darkness of the mountain.

Not long after they reentered the tunnel, they noticed a big sign on the side of the tunnel. It was a carved symbol of some sorts and the runes under the symbol informed them that they had entered the “Warrens of Caelbo”. They were not the only wanderers in this tunnel and an old Khord informed them to follow their path to come to the Warrens of Rvisthorn.

Taking the directions of the old man they made it to their destination. Another symbol on the wall of a tunnel told them they had entered another domain. After another 15 minutes the tunnel opened up to reveal another cave, not as big as the one before. It was unlike anything they had ever seen. Houses were connected to the stone on several levels, carved with such craftsmanship that they seemed to grow out of the wall in natural ways. Dots of light went as far as they could see, and dark streets crossed each other with the unpredictability of an anthill. Yes, the streets were dark, save from the lights that shone from numerous shops, smithies and homes. They were crowded too, but not focused on the average human with an incapability to see in darkness. After the lit tunnels, this was a new challenge to the group. Staying together they tried not to bump into the Khordaldrum citizens too much. With their mind on the bar they were seeking they didn’t spend too much time on looking around.

The Clouded Mug was situated in another cave, and the tunnels that lead them there were easier to walk through, since not so many people seemed to use them. This cave was smaller, lower and even darker than the first one. The bar was something straight out of the charcoal drawings of Frion Illubra, an artist famous all over Antaron for his sinister view of things. The windows of this stone and wooden building were closed, and looked like they had never been opened. There were only a few lights that illuminated the area, and none of them directly reached the Clouded Mug.
Inside, the illumination was just as obscure. The Mug was packed, with many tables and dark corners, many of them already taken. Some people were sitting at the bar, while a duo of waiters passed drinks around. A thick layer of smoke dimmed everything even more. Although most of the city, or what they had seen of it so far, was inhabited by Khords, there were some other races doing business here. A mixture of languages rang in their ears, and the words they understood spoke of both every day things and dark thoughts. It was unsettling that people spoke about these things so openly. Was it like that all over Khordal?

(OOC: There are some free tables, or places at the bar. Tell me what you intend to do here. People aren’t watching you yet. They mind their own business.)

---

Khordal Kingdom
Warrens of Caelbo
23rd day of the 7th month: Pfier
5:42 pm
While Geim was walking through the streets of the Warrens of Caelbo, a Khordaldrum man in ragged cloths suddenly tugged his shirt.

“Please Sir. My wife is really ill. You are a healer aren’t you? I recognize the clerical braiding.”

He pointed at Geimiedefher’s beard, and looked at him with pleading eyes. A guard who had been standing nearby grabbed the man and pulled him away. An angry glare and the clanking of a chain on the guard’s belt told the ragged Khord to leave this follower of Kharox alone.

As he stepped back, the man continued to look at Geim, begging with his eyes for help.

---

Maelamin Kingdom
Bladesinger Keep
25th day of the 7th month: Pfier
9:09 pm
The orc-elf looked with a smirk at Elessarae as they both sat on the bed.

“A test? For me? Well, yes, it is always a test alright. But not for me. The hard thing is evading the real damage. But you really got me today. So I’ll accept your healing gladly.”

She held out a hand as the bladesinger went for her wand.

“Wait. Let me undo this horrible outfit. I don’t want to look like a pig any longer than I have to.”

The thing stumbled over to the chest and opened its lid. Inside were clean cloths, and the orcish elf picked out a set of them, then began stripping her own garments except for a short pair of underpants. Elessarae could now see that the thing was indeed an elf, her chest bound tightly with bandage, now charred brown. Several wax facial disguises were removed, revealing more and more of the elf. What also was revealed was that very little of the elf had been truly wounded. With a cloth the woman wiped away the blood from her skin, and checked the very thin cut on her side.

“I don’t know what your lesson has been today, but remember this. Sometimes eluding your enemy is better than using sheer force. Most of this blood – she held out the cloth – is fake.”

She smiled softly at Elessarae.

“Don’t worry. You’ll pass. Now, how about that healing?”

"It was a little hard to elude you, being trussed up like a pig on a spit."

Elessarae touched the wound with the wand and waits to see the flesh close,and then the new pink flesh turn to a normal skin color.

She then stipes the bed of its sheet, "I can make you a sarong," she says, holing up the sheet to the elf woman. "Sorry about the Fireball, I was hoping you would get caught by some of the animated ropes, like me."

Geimiedefher knows that he cannot cure all the ills in the city and there were others that did this type of work. However, today seemed to be the day for unusual events. Something caused him to deviate from his plan and help the man’s wife. Already late for his appointment, he decided that a little more time might not do more damage

If someone was trying to sidetrack him, he would get a bit more information. If not, they a good deed would not hurt.

“Who are you? Where is your wife? And ,what is the matter?” He asked/

Alyssia began to become slightly aggravated that she could not see properly in this place and recalled one of the things that Lysora had taught her. It would permeate even the greatest darkness and allow her to see. She began to form the pathways of the magic, twisting with her power of will into the form that she desired, that which would grant her the magical sight.

“Lysora,” she whispered in the celestial tongue, “I call upon you to grant me the vision that will pierce this darkness. I call upon you in my time of need.”

Everything became more clearer, at least more so than it was before. Although her sight had no color with it, she made do well enough. One did not complain about what the god’s gave them, and she had long ago submitted to her goddess’s will. She had not known where the path would lead her at the time, but she did not question where it was her goddess sent her. And now, she would accompany Draven until she was able to heal the wounds in his heart, the darkness that she felt within the man. He was not evil, that much she knew, but she knew that much weighed down upon his soul, keeping him from being the servant of light that he could become.

“So Draven,” Alyssia spoke when they took their seats (wherever they may be), “tell more or yourself. If you would of course.”

(was wanting to go off of Draven's lead, but here it is. Casted darkvision, 2nd lvl spell. It is good for 5 hrs.)

Khordal Kingdom
Warrens of Caelbo
23rd day of the 7th month: Pfier
5:42 pm
The old Khord regarded the guard with anxiety, almost fear of answering the cleric. He took Geimiedefher by the arm and spoke in a low voice. From his mouth rose the stink of rotting teeth and a diet of garbage.

“I am Horc’tun Meltpot, master cleric. My wife is in our house, a few streets down this way.”
He pointed in the direction of a few narrow side tunnels that ran between homes, into the poorer area’s of the Warrens of Caelbo.
“She is very ill, sir. Her skin’s got blue mold all over it, and she has trouble breathing.”

They went around a corner that drowned out some of the noise of the crowded street. No merchants prided in their stores here, no torches warmed the stones. Another tunnel-alley was entered, and the old Khord cocked his head. They were almost there. Another bend, and several doorways later they stopped. The ragged man pointed in one of the dark entries in the rock. They both entered.

The old Khord’s house was nothing more than a carved out cube in the rock. An old table supported a lit candle, but even that seemed almost too heavy for it. In the left corner lay a few sacks of damp hay, and on it… a corpse. It was hard to tell if it had ever been male or female. It was old, and long dead.
Behind him Geim heard a rattle of metal. He turned just in time to see the old man breathing a “I did as you asked”, and then run like a squirrel.
Two Khords entered the building, one carrying a heavy hammer, the other a metal chain. They looked like regular thugs, but of strong build. And did the cleric notice a red glow in their eyes, or was it his imagination?

---

Maelamin Kingdom
Bladesinger Keep
25th day of the 7th month: Pfier
9:09 pm
The now healed ex-orc sighed in relief.

“Wow, I didn’t realize how much I need that. Thank you for that.”

She waved at Elessarae’s offer to make her a dress out of the bedsheet. She bend over and took a nobleman’s outfit from the chest, and held it up for display. It was very much like the ones the elder bladesingers had worn.

“I’ve got my own clothing right here. So, you were trying to catch me in the nets like yourself? Clever. Too bad they’re just an illus…”

The door was suddenly opened, and one of the elder bladesingers gazed upon them. It was the one that had guided Elessarae to this room. He was still smiling softly.

“I hear you’re giving away our secrets again Quilanday. You must have already made your decision then.”

The woman most unkindly stuck out her tongue at the elf, who ignored her and motioned for Elessarae to join him. Together they walked into the other room again. The other bladesingers on the council were back at their position behind the desk. Behind them a series of big open bow windows let in the late sunlight. Strange how she had not noticed those before.
She was lead in front of the desk, and the elder took his place with his fellows. For a moment they were silent, and the sounds of the forest around them took hold of the room.
Slowly one of the elders arose. She recognized him as the one who had clapped after her performance. Then a woman stood up, and after her, one by one, came the others. They stood there in silence, but all of a sudden their arms burst into action. Simultaneously and fluent as eels they took a dagger from their robes and gave a single shout. What followed can only be described as an intricate perpendicular dance of arms with arms. While the rest of their bodies stayed almost still, the bladesingers sang a hymn to battle and honour to accompany the dancing of the daggers. The display of skill ended with all the elders throwing their weapon in the air, rotating a quarter step to face to their right, and catching the falling daggers in the holders on their belts.
Then they left the room, leaving Elessarae with the man who had clapped. He came to stand in front of her.

“My name is Gyvontill Ligustrumbranch. I am an elder bladesinger authorized to welcome you to the Order. Elessarae Isiliri, you have proven yourself worthy of the hard tasks we shall assign you with. You can and WILL stay in grace through the journeys you are to take in service of the Sylvari kingdom. From now on you shall hold the title of Bladesinger, and you shall do so in honour to our Gods, our nature and our people. May your blade stay as your song, for it was both sharp and beautiful.”

Elessarae nodded respectfully to the man that came in, and to the elder Bladesinger that had taken the roll of the Orc. When Quilanday mentioned illusions Elessarae gave a half laugh.

“My Lady,” Elessarae uses a formal title, for Bladesingers were accounted as Lords and Ladies, “you were the only one I tried to disbelieve,” she comments to the Bladesinger, “I could not believe that Bladesingers would allow an Orc in the Kingdom, let alone in the Keep.”

The Woman exited and she followed the Elder male Bladesinger to the front of the imposing desk, from there the Elder went to his chair with the others.

There was silence in the room and only the sounds of the Forest beyond and her pounding heart, which she was sure the keen ears of the Elders could hear.

Slowly one of the elders arose. She recognized him as the one who had clapped after her performance. Then a woman stood up, then others all in silence, which suddenly erupted with then drawing their daggers, a simultaneous shout and in unison performing the must intricate series of maneuvers. They sang a hymn to battle and honour to accompany the dancing of the daggers. The finale was climatic as they tossed their daggers into the air ¼ turned their bodies and let the dagger fall precisely into their sheaths.

Then they left except for the Elder who had clapped. He came to stand in front of her.

“My name is Gyvontill Ligustrumbranch. I am an elder bladesinger authorized to welcome you to the Order. Elessarae Isiliri, you have proven yourself worthy of the hard tasks we shall assign you with. You can and WILL stay in grace through the journeys you are to take in service of the Sylvari kingdom. From now on you shall hold the title of Bladesinger, and you shall do so in honour to our Gods, our nature and our people. May your blade stay as your song, for it was both sharp and beautiful.”

As he spoke Elessarae did not hear one heartbeat. She was a full fledged Bladesinger.

A Bladesinger!

Now her heart gave a great leap. Surprised, indeed for she thought that she had years of study and lessons before attaining her goal. She wanted to race to the top of the tower and shout out her joy to anyone who could hear. She wanted to send a message to her parents about her being honored by the Council of Elders.

Were she allowed to go home she knew what would happen, her mother, a Captain in the Queen's Royal Guard would salute her and comment that she knew that her daughter was worthy of the honor. Her father, a Master Bard, would ask what songs she sang and even have her sing them again so he could critic her performance. She would hug her Cath Shee, a giant Elven cat, who hated to be hugged and would growl all the time she related the story of about becoming a Bladesinger. And to placate him she would scratch him under the chin and behind the ears.

She pauses and looks about the room, now one of the company, “I am ready to serve," she somehow thinks there will be no time for a visit home.

Elessarae meets the man’s eyes, her own eyes shining brightly, “and It seems I will have to spend more time practicing with my dagger.” For now she awaits directions.

The entire trip through the caves of the Khordrum and into the city, Draven strolled ahead, at his own brisk pace. He knew two of the others walked with him, but he ignored them. In the darkness that surrounded them, he was like a wraith, swathed in shadow, and eyes burning a golden light. He flashed a glare here and there at the few Khords with the nerve to stare at him, but at last he reached the tavern he had been directed to.

The Clouded Mug loomed like a malicious ruin amidst the caverns and lantern light of the dwarf city. Draven could not see an open window or a crack of light from the roughly hewn walls. The scene almost made him smile. Without a glance at his tag-alongs, Draven IreDante proceeded up the walkway and through the door.

The place wreaked of sweat, smoke, and sour ale. Draven stood, a menacing, shadowed figure in the doorway for a moment, before slipping into the crowd and making his way for a dark booth. He sat, and Alyssia sat across from him. For the first time since they had entered the caves, he looked at her, and the burn of his golden eyes was not a friendly one.

When a Khord server approached their table, he handed over several coins and grunted.

“Whatever’s strongest.”

Folded his gloved, right hand over the pale, bare skin of his left, he glared at Alyssia.

“So Draven. Tell more of yourself. If you would of course.”

He knew that was coming, and he looked her straight in the eye when he responded.

“I won’t, of course.”

Dripping cynicism. He was good at that.

“There are other empty tables than this one mage.”

He gestured towards the number of other empty tables. It was obvious that Draven did not want her company.

The Clouded Mug
Khordal Kingdom
22nd day of the 7th month: Pfier
3:18 pm
The group followed Draven as he sat down on a vacant table. He hadn’t given them the slightest indication that he noticed they were there, and ordered a drink for himself alone. The waiter gave the slightest of nods and flipped his beard, returning to the bar. He came back in time to overhear Alyssia’s question. His message was short and his gruff voice barely voiced over the layer of smoke.

“Your Carion’s Acid. Anything for the company?”

He did not lift an eyebrow when Draven reacted rudely to the sorceress. Apparently, this conversation wasn’t the only one going stiff, and the man was used to not listening to anything besides orders.

Another table seemed to have the same matters of impoliteness. Suddenly a richly dressed Khord got up and grabbed his throat. From the foam on his lips gurgled a few sounds, but none were as comprehendable as the blood-shot look of unbelief, directed at his table partner. As the rich Khord fell down, the other looked around frantically. His eyes looked over the adventurer’s table to the bar beyond. There, a giant of a human was strolling with abyssal steps in the killer’s direction. With a few paces he was at him and grabbed him by the neck. The Khord rammed a few punches at the man’s kidney’s but didn’t even make the man flinch.

“Nobody breaks the treaty of the Mug!” The human shouted in the Khord’s face. Then, aimed at one of the waiters, he spat “Bring my club!” and dragged the killer out of the tavern. The last thing the adventurer’s saw was a club the size of a small tree being tugged towards the back door. The body of the rich Khord was left where it was.