Lyle Underroot - Country Bumpkin Extraordinaire

[Nehetsrev]

Entry 21 - Mai 23, 1405

It's been days since ah've seen Lilly.  No word from 'er, an' no one's seen her that ah know of.  Ah'm a bit worried.  More than a bit.  Ah tried te relax a little at the Freelancer's in Point Harbor, but ah jus' couldn'.  Not with 'er out o' touch.  Ah've put my search fer Ol' Lyle, my grandpa, on hold until ah can find Lilly, 'r find out at least what's become o' 'er.  Ah pray te Lady Comfort ain' nuthin' bad 'appen'd te 'er.  Ah pray te Prunilla that ifn sumthin' did 'appen, that she be kept full o' hope an' that she be comfort'd.  Ah guess now ah know 'ow Lilly felt when ah disappear'd from 'er for a time while lookin' fer Ol' Lyle.  It ain' a nice feelin'.  Ah can't e'en write nuthin' fer the Dragon's Whisper ah'm so work'd up 'bout Lilly.  Ah don' feel much like singin' eith'r.

[Nehetsrev]

Entry 22

Lilly is still missin'.  Ah can't relax.  Ah've decid'd te spend some time in the Great Library te fill the time while she's gone an' te occupy my mind.  Ah fear sumthin' awful's 'appened te Lilly, but ah 'ave no idea where te look fer 'er, or e'en ifn ah could 'elp 'er ifn ah did know where she were.  Ah'll see what ah can learn 'bout dragon's at the Great Library, maybe it'll help satisfy this odd curiosity ah've got 'bout 'em.

[Nehetsrev]

Entry 23 - Novlar 13, 1405

Affer a trip te Firesteep wit' my Love an' a few other's ah sit next te Lilly as she sleeps in this fine bed 'ere at The Lusty Maiden inn in Northpoint.  An' sumthin' jus' seems wrong.  The whole trip, an' e'en now, Lilly's been restless in 'er sleepin'.  She tosses an' turns like a child's top thrown haphazrdly 'cross the room.  Maybe it's jus' me, but 'er eyes seem te be lookin' te someplace distant when she's awake, an' she don' talk much, 'specially 'bout the trip she went on fer the past two months inte the Underdark.  While ah been 'alf-crazed wit' 'er bein' gone all that time, ah'm back in my right mind o' sorts now as ah've seen her safe an' sound agin.  We both confess'd 'ow much we miss'd each othah, an' Lilly want'd te...  Well she said she want'd te 'ave my child right then an' ther affer we got back inte this room 'ere.  An' as much as ah love 'er, sumtin' jus' don' seem right.  It jus' seems all wrong, an' it should be sumthin' special...a tender moment shared 'tween us...but not like this.  Ah don' unnerstand why ah feel this way, but ifn she wants a child ah love 'er nuff te give 'er one, e'en outside o' the blessin' o' marriage ifn it's what she truly wants.  Ah just don' unnerstand 'ow she would be willin' te commit te a child, an' not te marriage.  Ah'm worried for 'er.

Lady Comfort, please read what ah'm writin' 'ere an' bring your Comfort te Lilly.  She dun' 'arvest'd 'nuff sorrows in 'er life already, 'elp 'er te reap a 'arvest o' joys now instead.

[Nehetsrev]

Entry 24 - Novlar 12, 1405

Ah woke te find the bed next te me empty, Lillian 'ad already left.  'as she left me fer good?  I dunno.  She did make an ultimatum, an' ah didn't fall in line wit' it right away.  Ah jus' ain' goin' te do what don' feel right, e'en ifn it means losin' Lilly and livin' wit' a broken 'eart.

Maybe ah'll git back te doin' what ah set out te do in the first place, an' try 'arder te find Ol' Lyle, me great-grandpa.  There're sum leads what been pointin' te Luck.  Ah don' knwo why ah ain' gone there yet te follow up on 'em.

[Nehetsrev]

OOC - Note: this is not an entry in Lyle's own writing in his journal, it is rather a narative of his latest moments spent with Lillian Dartforth.  Read, enjoy, feel free to PM me with comments.
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Novlar 3, 1406

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Dialogue in Evening's Last Glimmer's
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The early evening hours approach in Hlint.  The already dim light filtering through layers of cloudy dust over the lands grows even further dim.  Atop the scaffolding that serves as the towns watchtower a lone figure stands watching the busy road below as townsfolk and travelers go about their last minute business before darkness completely settles in.  Hunched over and looking weighed down beneath a wide-brimmed purple hat with a white feather the short figure continues to watch the passers-by as though looking for someone amidst them.

A woman’s voice calls up to the halfling from below on the gravel road, “Hello, Lyle.”

Looking down to the source of the voice the one addressed as Lyle straightens his back and puts on his best friendly face to reply.  His voice though it sounds cheery is but a lie to cover his pain.  “Hello hello,”  he calls down to the woman.

The woman, dressed in her usual dark attire, comments to Lyle, “Haven't seen you for a while.”

The well-practiced greeting said already, Lyle’s voice sounds less jovial as he answers, “Ain' been 'round much.”

The woman looks back up at him, evidently noting the darker tones his voice has taken, she poses a question, “Everything alright?”

No longer hiding the grief he feels the colorfully dressed Halfling responds dryly, “Ah s'pose that would depend on yer defintions o' everythin' an' alright.”

“That doesn't sound good,” comments the lady as she brushes a loose strand of hair form her face that the gentle breeze had blown there.

A frown forms momentarily on Lyle’s weary face, “Well, ah ain' seen Lillian in such a long time...,” his voice trailing off and growing distant in thought.

Noting the two standing still and speaking to one another a stranger approaches curiously, offering a polite, “Greetings.”

The woman answers the hail, “Hello, sir.”  Her voice pauses but a moment before she adds, “I'm Ferrit.”

Lyle issues his well-practice joyful sounding greeting and nods to the strange man, “Hello hello.”

Looking back up to Lyle, and then back to Ferrit the stranger begins to feel a little awkward.  “Sorry, didn t mean to interrupt,” he spits out in a fluster.  Gaining his composure again quickly he decides to introduce himself and utters, “Hi, I’m Keth.”

Trying to sounds friendly, but ending up sounding a bit short and gruff, the Halfling answers with his own introduction, “M'name's Lyle.”

Ferrit picks up the tone and tries to repair the damage of Lyle’s rather grim pronouncement, “I'm happy to meet you, Keth.”

Turning his attention back to Ferrit, Keth quickly makes a short statement with a curt nod, “Likewise.”  He thinks but a moment more before deciding to excuse himself and find other things to do elsewhere, noting the look on Lyles face that implies he isn’t quite welcome at the moment.  Again nodding curtly to both Lyle and Ferrit he makes his excape, “Excuse me, I should probably go.”

Ferrit watches Keth walk off for a moment before she continues the conversation she’d been having with Lyle a moment prior to Keth’s arrival.  She looks back up to Lyle a touch of sympathy in her voice, “Oh, I thought you made such a nice couple, Lyle.”

His mind also switching back to their earlier conversation Lyle comments, “Indeedy, ah thought we did too Ferrit...”  Again his voice grows somewhat distant with thoughts of Lillian and he heaves out a sad little sigh before continuing.  “But she changed...got distant...  We both did ah s'pose.”

“Oh, that's really a shame!,” Ferrit offers as another man strolls up confidently.

The man inquires of Ferrit, “What is dear?”

Ferrit takes note of her husband’s approach and greets him before answering his querry, “Hello, dear.  Lyle and Lillian.”

Lyle takes the opportunity to ask of them both, “Ye ain' seen 'er 'round Hlint lately 'ave ye?”

Ferrit’s husband, Kyle, brightens and states matter-of-factly, “I just saw Lillian heading east.”  He smiles to himself believing his goddess, Ilsare, would be served by this sharing of information.

Lyle himself brightens with hope at seeing the one he loves, the one he hopes still loves him as well.  He nearly shouts down in his glee, “Ye did!  Ah best run!”  His steps hastened as joy rises in his heart for the first time in months, Lyle scampers down the ramps of the watch-tower to go east where Lillian was last seen.

“Ahh!,” Ferrit exclaims, “Go get her, Lyle!  You haven't lost out yet!”

“Aye...better catch her,” Kyle comments as he watches the Halfling’s back moving away from he and Ferrit and on down the road.

A moment later Lyle skids to a halt nearly passing by Lillian only yards down the road from the watchtower.  He exclaims, “Lilly!,” turning her name into a greeting.  Then the two stop to gaze at each other.  Standing outside the Wild Surge Inn, gazing at the woman who had captured his heart, time almost seems to come to a halt for Lyle.

In disquieting tones Lillian begins, “Well, well, well.  I see you haven't carried out your threat to kill yourself yet.”

Lyle’s mind races from emotional extremes as he realizes Lillian may not be so thrilled to see him after all, but his tongue slips out a few words before his mind engages to better grasp the situation, “'Ow ye been?  ...no ah aven't.  Do ye want me too?  Do ye want me at all?”

Lillian’s cold gaze holds him for a moment as though to measure and weight Lyles last question carefully.  Lyle holds his breath, the tension inside coiled like a spring ready to burst out through his chest at an answer he hopes he won’t hear.  Finally Lillian relieves some of Lyle’s fears, “Nah.  Where you been?”  The normally glib Lyle is left without words for a moment and Lillian decides to press, “You're a fool for not doing what I asked.”

Finally, Lyle’s mind catches up, “Maybe so.  But it just... you didn't seem right.”

Her voice cool as ice, she presses further, “Whatever ... mmm.. problem I had has been taken care of.. I shouldn't be so... demanding in the future.”

This time Lyle is allowed to contemplate for a few seconds before he responds to her, “Ah see....  Ye found peace then?”

“That's one way of putting it,” begins Lilly, “I had a problem taken care of for me.  Amzaing what a cleric can do.”

Frowning in thought and concern he asks, “Then ye can tell me now what it was that 'ad ye all ...odd?  Ifn yer at peace?”

“Sure,” Lillian looks Lyle in the eye directly, “You certain you wish to know?  I don't want to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, it might 'elp us patch things up ifn I knew,” Lyle says as he rubs his chin in thought and wondering, “Ifn yer want'n te?”

“Remember I said I was away in the Underdark and lost track of time?,”  Lilly begins her recounting, “I was sold as a slave to Drow.  Noble Drow.”  She pauses a little dramaticly before going on, “Two long months in that hell.”  As he listens Lyle looks down at the ground at her feet, his eyes become hidden under the brim of his hat as he contemplates what he's being told.  “I still have nightmares about it... they are not as frequent as when I first returned.  I see the Drow faces come.  Sometimes I am afraid to close my eyes at all, in fear I will be brought back,” Lillian tells him solemnly.

A bit of hurt in his voice Lyle recalls their last conversation, “Ye said ye went on a tradin' trip... ye nevah tol' me ye was made a slave Lilly...”

Lillian continues despite Lyle’s comment, “There was a guard there.  A powerful one.  I always saw him looking at me and thought I could use my.. femininity to escape.  Figured if I gave into him before I was forced, he could help me and take the collar off to set me free.  He was caught with me.  I was severely beaten.  He was executed there in front of me.”

Understanding begins to fill Lyle’s mind as he remembers their last night together at the Lusty Maiden in Northpoint.  He opens his mouth again to speak what his thoughts have deduced, “An' ye end'd carryin' 'is child?  That's why ye want'd te bed me?”

For a moment Lillian’s shame surfaces on her otherwise steely face and she casts her eyes away and then back.  “I wasn't sure,” she lies before going on, “When I returned I thought that maybe you would think it was your child if we were together.  But, common sense said the skin would be far too dark.  So... I went to the ... a temple... to have the cleric validate the child's existence.”

Unwittingly Lyle’s tongue is quick to point out, “The child would've been a bit bigger than our kin too.”

Her eyes alight on him unwaveringly, “I took care of it.  I am not with child.”

Lyle looks back, recalling the eyes of a shark he’d seen in his wanderings, “Ah see...  Ah wish ye'd 'ave trust'd me nuff te be honest wit' me te begin wit' though.”  The moment passes and he dismisses the image, choosing instead to remember the tender moments they’d shared before Lillian’s captivity in the Underdark.

“Yeah, well I am sorry about that.  I didn't know what to do or what to say,”  Lillian justifies without need, or perhaps in need for her own conscience.

“Ah s'pose it was hard...  an' ah can unnerstand that,” Lyle pardons her as he rubs the back of his neck with his right hand before letting it fall to his side again loosely.

Though she tries to remain in control, some of her internal pain is evidenced as she speaks, “Aye,. it was.  I would have told you if you didn't just up and run away.”

Lyles eyes light as his guard comes up in defense of his actions, “I went 'way 'cause you'd said ye didn't want te be wit' me ifn ah didn't bed ye....ah thought things were o'er fer us, Lilly.”

Understanding, perhaps, Lillian changes the subject ever so slightly, “Now I am indebted to a ... to a temple for their services.”

Lyle’s anger subsides quickly, “An' the child's unborn, ah'm guessin'?”

“There is no child,” Lillian states simply.

“But there would 'ave been, right?,” he presses her for an answer.

Lillian looks back, avoiding a definitive comment, “Maybe.”

Lyle nods almost imperceptibly, accepting the answer as good enough, “Ah s'pose ye can't say fer certain until a child's born...always the chance o' still-birth.”

She comments again, “That's what I figure.”

Lyle’s compassion evident in his voice he continues his thoughts, “Ah'd 'av still lov'd it ifn it were te 'ave been born....  though ah figure most folks wouldn't unnerstand.”  His gaze tries to hold her eyes and emote to her that he is forgiving and doesn’t hold any blame to her.

“No one would.  I will not be made into a mockery.”  Lillian’s tones become heated and defiant.

“Ah'm not condemnin' ye Lilly, an' ah certainly ain' mockin' ye.”  Lyle replies his tones quiet to sooth Lillian.

Lillian decides to change the subject abruptly and poses to Lyle, “So, enough about me.  Where have you been?  You have been gone so long I figured you for dead.”

“Wanderin'...  Right aimlessly,” he begins rather sheepishly, “S'pose ye might say in my 'eart ah been te the depths o' the 'ells an' back the last few months.  Ah ain' been able te sing nuthin' but curses.  Maybe in time ah'll sing 'gain.”  His voice sunken to low, almost whispers.  The sadness he feels pours out to join with the coming darkness of night as it continues to fall around them.

“Well.  Welcome back.  I still love you,” she says as she moves to embrace him in a big hug, “Sing for me.  I am sorry for all we have been through.  Welcome home.”  They linger in the embrace for a few moments and then she decides to share some more positive news with him.  “Speaking of homes, you haven't even seen the house I own.”

Forgetting sadness for a moment Lyle asks in gentle surprise, “Ye bought a house?  The one ye were lookin' at in Fort Hope?  Or somewhere else?”

Lillian’s smile touches her lips briefly as she details her claim, “Nay, in Haft Lake.  I bought it with someone.  But, yeah.  Half of it is mine.  I think I will buy one near Haven soon though so I can have a place here.”  Lyle can’t help but hold onto that smile in his eyes even after it’s gone, the smile that he fell in love with what seems so long ago.  Lillian begins again to ask him, “You know Treana?”

His brow furrows for but a moment as he thinks whether or not she means the same person he knows by that name, “Treana, indeedy, she's the lass my sist'rs wrokin' fer.”

“Aye, well it's almost right across the street from her place,” she explains.

“Well that's right nifty!,” Lyle comments, thinking if they marry and he lives there with Lillian he’ll get to see his sister more often.  Then he catches himself and begins to wonder if they’ll ever be married, he scratches his head a moment, “Ah s'pose anyway.”

She doesn’t seem to notice the change in his voice, or perhaps chooses to ignore it, as she comments, “Haven't seen her in quite sometime either.”

His right hand rubs the back fo his neck again, “She gone missin'?”

Lillian answers, “I don't think so.”

Lyles memory returns a conversation he’d had with his sister Marianna about the lady known as Treana.  He decides to share the gist of what he’d been told, “Might've lock'd 'erself up in 'er house agin then.  Marianna says she does that for months at a time sometimes.”

With a shrug Lillian goes on to say, “Maybe.  I liked talking to her.  I should just knock sometime.”  Both stand for a moment pondering their talk this eve, and finally Lillian breaks the near silence of the clearing streets.  “Well love, I need to rest.  I have been crafting all day.  You can join me if you like.”  She looks fondly at Lyle some more and adds, “I did miss you more than you know.”

A tiny portion of shame creeps up within Lyle and he repents of his absence, “Ah'm sorrah ah was gone so long, ah've jus' been so 'eartbroken' an' confus'd...  Still am in a way.”  His eyes look on her for forgiveness.

Lillian makes a firm resolution, “We shall speak no more of this.  We'll work on mending our hearts.  And we'll get ye crafting some nice things and maybe a concert of sorts.”  She looks to him to gather his response.

He looks back, a bit of hope returning after all this time apart from her, at last a smile lights on his own lips, “Sounds like a right fine idea.”

Indicating she knows things are not yet perfect between them again, Lillian adds, “It will take time, but I am glad to have you back.”

This time Lyle initiates a hug, reaching out to embrace Lillian tenderly in his arms, though in her gusto Lillian gives him a huge squeeze, lifting him off the ground.  Through gritted teeth from the pressure of her hug Lyle declines to go immediately to the inn, “Ah'm goin' te sit outside fer a bit... ah'll join ye in the inn later though.”  He inhales deeply as she releases her hold and sets him back on his feet.

Lillian smiles playfully, “Room 3.”  She then winks before turning to go inside.

As Lyle remains standing in the street alone, he witnesses something unusual and comments to himself about it, “A floatin' staff?”  He watches as the object bobs by and continues down the street, adding one final statement about it.  “Odd,” he comments as he once again rubs the back of his neck with his right hand.  The very last rays of light filtering through the thick clouds of dust above finally give out, leaving Hlint shrouded in a quiet darkness.  Well, not quite quiet, the few voices of a small group of conversing adventurers rises and falls from deep in the dark, their laughter breaking out in fits as they pass jokes among each other to pass another night away.

[Nehetsrev]

Augra 8, 1407

Ah've 'ad a dream, 'r rath'r a nightmare o' sorts.  A dragon agin...  The big scaley beast 'eld down with cruel scaled talons a fair maiden o' right-size as she were giving brith te child.  The dragon's great toothy maw open with expectation, waiting to d'vour the infant...  Ah can't fathom why a beast so huge would wish te eat such a small thing as that.  So small in relation to the size o' the dragon that it could scarce be more than a taste, and certainly never a meal.  Yet the image o' my nightmare were so viv'd ah can't clear it from my 'ead no matter 'ow ah try.  Even drunk'n te passin' out, the sight stuck in me mind, an' now ah've a bloody 'eadache on top o' it all.  Ah've nevah been one much fer drink anyway.

Maybe ah dreamt this affer learnin' o' 'ow Lilly were wit' child from the Drow an' decid'd te rid 'erself o' the child afore it were born.  Ah've always 'ad dreams o' dragons, so mayhaps it's jus' a sick twistin' o' my mind what tries te deal wit' Lilly's choice.  Would that mean she were in one part the dragon, preying on the innocent child, an' in the oth'r part the mother 'eld down an' 'elpless by the predator, 'er own violent nature?  Ah don' ken ifn that's why ah dreamt it 'r not, but h've not been able te be wit' Lilly much since.

Yet, ah love Lilly, an' ah don' want what we 'ave wit' eachoth'r te be ruin'd by a bad dream.  So, when ah notic'd the advert' fer a right-sized party an' that she'd writt'n 'er name down te be there, it gave me new 'ope.  Mayhaps ah kin see 'er there at the party an' we can settle things 'tween us an' git back te lovin' the way we should.  Ah ken it weren't 'er fault she were sold te them Drow, an' ah can't blame 'er fer doin' whatevah she felt she 'ad te in 'er effort te 'scape.

Ah ain' nevah been so sad in my life as ah been o' late, but knowin' my Lady Comfort, ah'm countin' on the fact that 'appier times are a commin'.  Won't be long afore ah'm jumpin' an' shoutin' an' singin' in jubilation agin.  No sah!  Won't be long afore ah'm back in right spirits, ye can count on it.

[Nehetsrev]

Jenra 19, 1408

It is with a 'eavy 'eart Ah write in my journ'l this day.  I fear things wit' Lillian are beyond workin' out.  We've grown too distant o'er too great a time.  Ah will always love 'er, deep in my 'eart, 'er spirit still inspires me...but Ah must face the rhytm o' life an' move on.  Lilly seems te 'ave become darken'd wit'in, an' Ah can't reach 'er, not when I almost nevah see 'er.  Puttin' 'er b'hind me ain' goin' te be easy, but ah'll return te search'n more devotly te findin' Ol' Lyle, my great-grandpa.  Ah'll also make a trip te Roldem wit' miss Jennara, she tells me there're fields there ready fer plantin', so perhaps ah kin' pray Prunilla's blessin' o'er 'em an' do sum othah good fer those poor folk.  The darkness o'er the world can't be 'elpin' the recovery there any, an' ah know it's makin' things rough 'nuff fer everah one else too.

'eard lot's o' rumors o' late 'bout things goin' awry in a great many places.  Seems there's Gnoll's attackin' Haven, an' ah 'ope my folks are alright since they live not far form thar.  Thar's also been sumthin' odd 'appen'd near Spellguard from what ah 'ear, sum' sort o' wizard battle or sum such.  An' e'en more te my curiosity, ah 'eard o' sum dragon attacks an' a outbreak o' plague o'er on Dregar at Hurm.  Ah'm a bit torn, as odd as it might sound, do ah go te Haven an' make sure my kinfolk are safe, or do ah go te Hurm te 'elp the plague victims an' see ifn ah kin fin' out more 'bout those dragons?  It seems odd te me 'ow strong the pull o' the rumors o' dragons in Hurm is o'er me.  Seems ah should be much more concern'd wit' my fam'ly ifn ah'm a right good Prunillan... but the pull's about equal both ways.

[Nehetsrev]

Mai 2, 1408

Ah met wit' Lilly agin.  Ah can't jus' put 'er out o' my 'eart or my mind.  So, perhaps things ain' through b'tween us as ah'd been fearin'.  We went on a trip t'gether, not too unlike those we used te go on when we first met.  'Er skills 'ave grown much more than my own, an' weren't narry a thing could stop 'er in a fight, 'cept the pause I saw 'er give in the moment ah fell te a knife in the back from one o' the Kenku what snuck up on me.  She called my name in that span of a second that lasted hours te me.  E'en as the last warmth o' life drained from me, ah could feel 'er lips touch mine an' it were 'nuff.  'Nuff te make me want te keep livin'. 'Nuff fer me te want te keep tryin' wit' 'er.  'Nuff fer me te wait a little long'r fer 'er te choose an' make 'er choice plain te me.

Oddly, in that same span, when ah were a dyin', or perhaps affer, ah saw aumtin' else.  An eye.  Fierce, an' golden, wit' a narrow pupil like a snake's...or a dragon's.  It fix'd me in the void wit' darkness all round.  It gazed inte me an' ah felt pierced.  An' ah still wunner, why is it always dragons ah see in my dreams?

An' the song goes on...

[Nehetsrev]

Chapter One:  A Gathering In Hlint


A small figure underneath a wide-brimmed purple hat with a white feather wanders casually down the main street of the town of Hlint on the continent of Mistone.  The Halfling, dressed in a colorful and well kept suit to match the hat, cheerfully and somewhat absently greets other passers-by with a gentle smile and boisterous, “Hello!  Hello!”  His right hand scarce getting any chance at all to fall back to his side as it rises with each greeting to tip the hat he wears politely.  It doesn’t seem to matter to the fellow whether his greetings are returned in kind, or not.  He simply moves along with a near-childish spring to his steps as he makes his way down the busy street.

Eventually, the Halfling comes to rest upon one of the several benches set along the street between the smithy and the bank.  His right arm is finally given the chance to rest a few moments, though his gentle smile never quite fades.  He begins to contemplate the latest in a long string of numerous leads he has received born on the wings of countless delivery falcons over the past five, nearly six, years.  His head tips forward ever-so-slightly causing the wide-brimmed hat to cover his face in shadow and hide his anxious eyes from the view of others as they pass.  His thumbs twiddle absently as his hands rest neatly in his lap while his mind churns over all the previous disappointments such leads have brought him, and what disappointments this newest lead might bring with it.  This lead does seem different than most, and being different provokes a bit more hope than most others of late, almost as much as those first few leads that brought him from his home near Haven nearly six years ago.

A soft, feminine voice interrupts the thoughts of the Halfling, calling to him, “Hello Lyle.”  Already recognizing her voice, Lyle knows it belongs to a Sun Elf lady by name of Elohanna, a friend recently made in the racial stew of Hlint during another days ponderings near the pond behind the shops.

“Hello!  Hello!,” he replies in kind, tipping his hat to her politely.  Pleased to see this nice lady once more, the smile upon his face broadens and looses any trace of absentness that may have been found before.

“How are you my friend?,” Elohanna asks him.  Perhaps she had noticed his brooding appearance, if it could have been called that, as she approached from down the road.

He answers her cultured, Elven tones with the sounds of his own country-twang.   Lyle replies, “Ah'm feelin' right-fine t'day.”  Despite his nervous contemplation of the possibilities of the new lead, the statement is not a lie.

Elohanna’s melodic laugh rings like the melody of a set of fine crystal chimes blown upon by a delicate and pleasant breeze before she sits next to him on the bench.  A moment later the laughter is followed with her words of reply, “I am glad to hear it.”

With a hint of excitement Lyle continues before allowing her to respond further, “Ah'm waitn' fer some folks to show up so ah kin go te Lannisport an' check out a lead on my great-grandpa.”

Picking up on Lyle’s excitement Elohanna asks, “Oh you think you might find him?”

In the moment, Lyle is reminded of the countless disappointments previous to this day.  The dampening of his spirit becomes evident as he shrugs non-commitally.  “Well, ah don' know.  Ah've look'd inte so many o' these kinds o' leads afore, ah'm not too 'opeful,” he begins with a slight pause and a sigh before continuing, “But maybe wit' the 'elp o' the investigat'r ah hired it might be differ'nt this time.”

Without even a moment of apparent thought Elohanna offers, “Well I have never been to Lannisport before, but I sure would like to help in your search if you wouldn't mind the company along the way?”

“That's right fine o' ye te offer.  More comp'ny the merrier,” Lyle answers with a wide, silly-looking grin.

Elohanna’s simple, caring smile returns to her own face, her words confirming the conviction she feels in her heart.  “I figure Aeridin put me here to do what I can to help others. I am only to happy to do what I can along the way.”

“Ye follow Aeridan?,” Lyle asks.  “Mayhaps ye kin 'elp wit' the ritual then,” taking a small breath before he continues, “Ah've hired a cleric o' Aeridan te 'elp determin' ifn my great-grandpa is e'en still alive 'r not.”

“I do, Lyle,” Elohanna begins in answer.  “I have since I was a wee little elf... not that I am not still little or small or ummm...,” her comments end with another round of her cheerful laughter.  As her laughter subsides her questioning, “Oh?,” gives evidence that she’s just realized what Lyle mentioned about a ritual.

Lyle, taking note of her surprise comments further, “Indeedy.  Went te the temple o' Aeridan an' ask'd fer sum 'elp, an' they assign'd sum fella name o' Tarquin te 'elp.”  He pauses and then adds, “ 'E's one o' the folks ah'm waitin' on.”

Elohanna’s eyes glimmer at recognition of the name, “Tarquin... I know him. Nice fellow.”  Her comments followed by another of her delightful Elven smiles.

Lyle notes her familiarity and states, “Ah see.  Ah think ah've net 'im once 'ere by the pond myself.”  His idle thumbs begin twiddling on their own once more and he goes on, “Anyhow...ah'm a bit nervous.  So its nice te 'ave a friend te sit wit' me fer a bit.”

Looking to Lyle with her kind eyes she answers, “I am glad you don't mind me being here Lyle. “

“Awe shucks, ah 'ardly evah min' 'avin good comp'ny,” Lyle comments in his country-twang.

Elohanna begins to venture out some of her own concerns, “Its so rare that I get to stop and talk. Fighting is one thing I don't think I can ever get used to and helping friends is something that never grows old.”

An appreciative look for his friend, Lyle speaks encouragingly, “Well, this ought te be right up yer alley then.  Ah don' foresee any need o' fightin' in tryin' te track down Ol' Lyle.”

A note of surprise enters her voice as Elohanna asks, “You are both named Lyle?”  She smiles again as she waits for him to confirm once more what she deduced.

“Yes Indeedy,” Lyle proudly confirms.

“How special to be named after your grand father?,” Elohanna smiles to him.

 “Great Grandpa.  Odd, ain' it?,” Lyle corrects and comments.

Elohanna diverts attention from her mistake with another smile and states, “He must be a great man, aside from the obvious.”

Despite her attempt to divert Lyle continues to assert his correction, “My grandpa's name is Emmit.”

So involved in their dialogue as they were, neither Lyle nor Elohanna notice the approach of a fairly fit Human male who stops to look at the pair and offer a greeting.  “Hello again,” the man offers in an attempt to gain their attention.

With almost a startled tone Lyle is quickest to respond, “O'!  Hello Tarquin!”  He adds a quick tip of his hat in courtesy.

Elohanna joins Lyle in greeting the man both in word and with another of her beautiful smiles, “Hello Tarquin.”

Wishing to confirm once more Tarquin’s aid to his own search Lyle asks, “Yer the cleric the temple assign'd te 'elp me, right?”

“I vollunteered when I heard about it but, same difference,” Tarquin replies matter-of-factly.

Elohanna quickly interjects her observation, “I thought it might be you when I heard you were going to be helping Lyle.”

Corrected himself, Lyle answers, “Right 'nuff.”  His words quickly followed by a bit of jovial laughter.  Lyle’s laughter trails off after a moment and he adds, “Well jus' need te wait fer my 'ired investigat'r then.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than they are answered by another voice, both feminine and direct, “Hi!”

Lyle’s head quickly turns to look to the source of the greeting.  With a grin and a tip of his hat he comments to the others and then returns a greeting of his own, “An' thar she is now.  Hello hello.”

The source of the new voice is an attractive lady with long blond hair who’s name Lyle knows from his previous dealings is Rhynn.  She waves to the other three and makes apology for her slight tardiness, “Sorry if I kept you.”

Rhynn’s voice catches the attention of another fellow nearby, hooded and carrying a staff and a book.  The odd fellow responds, apparently thinking he himself had been addressed by her, mostly due to the years of familiarity between himself and Rhynn, “Murr. Hmmmmm.”

Rhynn grins back to the man, “Murr indeed!  I have to go with these people now.”  She steps over to hug the fellow obviously happy to see him.  Lyle’s eyes track the womans movements and he knows the odd fellow she hugs is none-other than the reputed bard Ozymandius.  Lyle waits patiently as they converse for just a moment more before Rhynn says, “Buh Bye Ozzums!”

When Rhynn turns her attention back to himself and the others Lyle decides to get things under way, so he states, “Caniel were supposed te be comin' too, but she may 'ave decided te meet us in Lannisport.”

Elohanna recognizes the name Lyle mentions and intones, “Ah, Caniel, there is a lady I must speak with someday.”

Lyle is resigned to wait just a few moments longer for his older Elven friend, “Well, we'll give ol' Caniel a minute or two more, an' then we'll set out te Lellion an' sail from there te Port Hampshire an' on te Point Harbor.”

For a minute or so there is silence among the small party until Elohanna decides to break it with some idle talk.  She asks with her usual caring tones, “How are you today Tarquin?”

A moment’s thought and Tarquin answers Elohanna, “I am well... and you my lady?”

Elohanna simply smiles and answers, “Aeridin blesses me each and every day with good friends and good health. ‘

Meanwhile Lyle decides to engage Rhynn in conversation as well, “So, ye ready 'nuff miss Rhynn?”

Rhynn’s response is concise and somewhat business-like as should be expected, “Yup. I may eventually need that letter you have.”

“Indeedy.”  The single word response of Lyle hangs in the air a moment as Tarquin and Elohanna finish their own exchange.

Tarquin gives Elohanna a smile, “Well then it is good to know he is listening.”

Her own smile continues to grace her graceful features, “He always listens Tarquin...  We just have to listen too.”

At last, ready to proceed without Caniel and hoping she will meet them in Lannisport, Lyle decides to get things moving for their journey.  “Well, let's set out.  Ah'm sure ol' Caniel knows 'er way thar te Lannisport,” he states resolutely.

After some final preparations for the road, the small group heads out the western gates of the town of Hlint and onto the road to Fort Llast.  Their travel takes them past Blackford Castle to Lellion, from which they sail by charter to Port Hampshire and then on to Point Harbor.  Lyle passes the time alternating between contemplating the possibility that this time he may have finally found his great-grandpa, and spending moments lightening the mood with entertainment for himself and the others.  Finally, they set foot in Point Harbor and walk the land of Rilara to reach Lannisport not too far distant.

[Nehetsrev]

Chapter Two:  Grosh “The Hook”


“An' 'ere we are in Lannisport,” Lyle comments as the small band steps into the port-town.  It’s predominant Halfling inhabitants busy about their daily chores and activities pay them little mind.  Lyle breathes in a long breath of the salty sea air and looks about with a tiny glimmer in his eyes.  “Well, ah s'pose we can go wait in the inn fer Caniel te show up,” he says and after a it of hesitation adds, “ 'ope they don' remembah me from the time ah was 'ere wit' Lilly.”  A wry grin slides into place under the wide brim of his purple hat as the white plume feather is tussled some by the breeze coming off the ocean.

With a smirk Tarquin prods Lyle asking, “Get itno trouble did we?”

Laughing and curious, Elohanna quickly follows Tarquins question with her own, “What did you do?”

Rhynn shows only a slight amusement with a smile and a shrug before she walks on leaving Lyle to answer the other two.

Unable to contain his own mirth at the memories of the short-lived bar fight during his previous trip Lyle begins to chuckle and manages to squeeze in his answer amid his laughter, “A wee bit.”  As quickly as it had begun, Lyles laughter ends and his tone turns once again serious, “Still, ah got a lead 'ere te check out, so...”  Without further word or comment he leads the others into the inn.

Upon entering the inn’s hostess, Debra, her name from Lyle’s recollection, greets him with only the slightest hint of bitterness showing in her eyes from behind the artificial smile that she uses to greet so many, “Hey Lyle Underroot, don't forget to try our cook's special fare!”

Lyle grows a shade pink in the face and begins to grin sheepishly back at Debra as he replies, “Well, ah'm glad ye remembah me, an' that ye don't 'old a grudge miss.”

Scarcely acknowledging Lyle, Debra continues in her duties and begins to greet the others in much the same manner, though lacking quite as much of the bitterness in her eyes.

Rhynn nonchalantly waves the woman’s greeting off and walks past without pause mumbling a simple, “Yeah, yeah.”

While Debra starts to stare daggers at Rhynn’s back, Elohanna laughs light-heartedly at the exchange.

Apparently spotting something that she finds distasteful Rhynn further comments, “Ew,” as Lyle leads the group to a table at the back of the inn’s common room.

Pulling out a chair that will put his back to the wall Lyle comments, “This looks a right fine table te wait at.”

The rest begin to sit down as well.  Rhynn giving an air of aloofness as she pulls out a book and begins reading and occasionally writing the odd note or two.  Elohanna simply takes a place with her usual quiet smile.  Lastly Tarquin takes a seat opposite Rhynn and glances at her with a knowing smile.

“Be careful you'll lose yourself in that thing...,” Tarquin cautions Rhynn in an attempt to be friendly and perhaps start up conversation.

Rhynn spares not even so much as a glance in his direction as she humms a singular response of, “Mmhmm.”

Noting to himself the resemblance in mannerism Rhynn displays in relation to the noted bard Ozymandius, Lyle gives a chuckle and remarks, “She already r'minds me o' that Ozy' fella.”

This comment draws a little more attention from Rhynn and she replies, “That's twice in one day.  I feel rather lucky.  Thanks Lyle.”

Elohanna can’t help but comment on the old bard of bards herself, stating, “Ozy is a rather unique person.”

Lyle decides to keep the ball rolling as it were and adds, “ 'e's an odd duck that one, but likeable.”

At this point Rhynn returns to her reading and her hummed response, “Mmmhmm.”  Though a moment later she adds the following as though it were an important bit of information, “His ears are ticklish,” nodding sagely as she comments.

Elohanna is stirred into a small fit of giggles.  “He has a way of making you feel better when you feel down,” she adds as she finishes.

Evoking no further response, Rhynn flips a page not saying anything.

Apparently the only one among them not to have met Ozymandius yet, Tarquin ponders aloud, “Hmm I will have to meet him some day.”

Tarquin’s comment is leapt upon by Elohanna as a means to abandon the odd bit of silence left in the air by Rhynn’s focus on her book.  “I suggest you do Tarquin, although I don't think he will play with your ears,” she says with more laughter.

Oddly, Rhynn holds her ears and begins flipping pages rapidly before she herself laughs.

In almost perplexed tones Elohanna embellishes further, “Although one can never know about Ozy.”

The moment of banter ends as Rhynn simply shrugs and Elohanna begins to drink from her canteen.  Her head tipping back as she drinks she stops with a start as she notices the fellow who has walked up behind herself.  Setting down her canteen on the table she turns to look back at the man curiously.  After a moment the man swaggers off to another table.

“All sorts of people walk up to you in a bar,” Elohanna states.

Tarquin, who had also noticed the fellow, remarks, “Rather rude if you ask me.”

Being the gentle soul that she is Elohanna makes exscuse for the man, “Could have been a case of mistaken indentity.”

“Perhaps,” grumbles Tarquin.

Rhynn comments at random, “They're like that.”

Lyle gives his own take on the moment with a chuckle, “Drunks....”

“Yes they are, could happen to any of us,” Elohanna says to finish the round of comments.

Rhynn simply shrugs once more.

“One reason I have always been against drinking...,” Tarquin begins to lecture, “It makes a person forget all their oaths and decency.”

Perhaps with a hint of nostalgia, or maybe memories she’d rather suppress, Elohanna shares, “Tried some Xeenite wine once. ... only once.”

Lyle deigns to add his own two bits, “D'pends on 'ow much ye drink.  Ah don' mind knockin' back a cold one once in a while.  But, ah don' make a 'abit o' it.”

With an air of authority Rhynn remarks, “Xeenite wine is grape juice.”

With an ever-so-slight frown Tarquin returns to his lecturing, “I find far too many people over do it.”

“I just don't handle drinking well at all,” Elohanna admits with a light smile.

Tarquin grumbles, “I have seen few who do in my opinion.”

For whatever reason Elohanna asks, “Are you feeling okay miss?”  Her question directed at Rhynn.

“Yup,” Rhynn answers in affirmation.

Lyle’s mind shifts back to the reason for their visit to Lannisport.  Changing the flow of conversation he remarks, “Well, we'll git te checkin' out ifn this lead ah got from my contact 'ere is any good.  Hope te find Ol' Lyle this time, ah really do.”

Meanwhile an older Elven lady approaches their table after spotting them from near the entry.  She silently leans her staff against the wall and takes a seat.

Recognizing his friend at once Lyle brightens and alerts the others, “Thar's Miss Caniel!”

“My apologies Miss, my name is Elohanna,” says Elohanna as she scoots her chair over a bit to make more room for Caniel.

Sensing it to be a good moment to do so, Rhynn introduces herself as well, “Nice to meet you. Rhynn.”

Turning directly to Lyle almost as though ignoring the others Caniel begins, “Sorry I am late dear, these old bones don't work quite like they used to.”

Lyle’s tones bear the sincerity of his reply, “Ah unnerstand.  We were jus' talkin' 'bout gettin' ready te find my contact.”  Caniel nods and listens as Lyle continues, “ ‘Course, now yer 'ere, ifn ye want ye can try that ritual wit' Tarquin 'ere te see ifn Ol' Lyles still alive 'er not.”

Rhynn retrieves another book for note-taking form her belongings and advises, “Don't think that's a good idea surrounded by people.”

Lyle affirms her advise, “Indeedy...ye got a right good point miss Rhynn.”

“I have to agree with Rynn, people tend to take such things in a negative light,” adds Tarquin.

“If you give me that letter , I can try to scry for a general location. Maybe.  But I think waiting for the contact may be all together most wise,” offers Rhynn.

“Right nuff.  That'd be best since Caniel 'xplain'd te me that the ritual works bettah ifn yer close,” Lyle answers in agreement about the scrying and ritual.

“Who is your contact Lyle?,” Elohanna asks curiously.

Meanwhile a scruffy looking Halfling walks into the inn and begins looking around from table to table.  After a moment he is heard calling, “Lyle?”

Rhynn, hearing the Halfling call Lyle’s name states, “Someone's callin ya.”

Recognizing the man from previous dealings in regards to his search for  Ol’ Lyle, Lyle nods to the man in indication to Elohanna and that rest, “That'd be him thar.”


Caniel speaks up and asks of Lyle curiously, “Yes, the other day you had no idea about where to start.  Where did you find out about this contact?”  Her gaze follows the Halfling and evidences her distaste for the fellow without apology or restraint.

Not meaning to ignore Caniel’s question, but wishing to gain the attention of his contact Lyle calls out, “Hello Grosh.”  Lyle recalled the other halfling’s given nickname with slight amusement kept in check by the urgency of his need to find his grandfather, Grosh “The Hook”.

With a sigh born almost of exasperation, Grosh “The Hook” looks around one more time before his beleaguered eyes came to rest upon Lyle and the others at the table with him.  He walks the last few steps to the table muttering, “There ya are.”

Motioning with one hand to the place across the table from himself Lyle offers, “ 'ave a seat.”

Rhynn also beckons Grosh over to the table to sit, while Elohanna carefully observes the newcomer.  As he approaches further Rhynn begins scribbling notes into her notebook, likely consisting of the fellow’s name and physical description.

Grosh takes the offered seat, “Ahhh...don't mind if I do,” and he leans back, sighing in relief.

Direct and to the point Lyle begins, “So what ye got fer me?”

“Welp...I ain't too sure really,” Grosh begins as he rolls his head to the side and stares back at Lyle lazily.  “Seems, well...there's some people in Karthy that may have somethin' for ya, but…”  His voice trails off for a moment and he looks around, “Can't a guy get a drink in this place?”  He scratches his head as he waits for a response, his hair very mangy and dirty, to the point that ogres may have been better groomed.

With a slight squeek to the chair beneath her, Rhynn skootches subtly further from the fellow.

Grosh continues after a moment in which his call for a drink goes unanswered, “I ain't too sure if this's somethin' you really want a piece of ya know?”

A bit confused Lyle asks further, “Whatchya mean?”  A bit of frustration begins to be heard on his lips as he adds, “Ah'm jus' 'ere lookin' fer my great-grandpa.”


Nearby, Caniel nods subtly, studying Grosh's face.

“I know, I know, but,” Grosh squints at Lyle, “Sometimes it's better ta just let certain things go, ya know?”

The anger and frustration in his voice rises quite noticeably as Lyle leans forward, “Now look 'ere...ah ain' spent years lookin' fer 'im te turn back now!”

Grosh tries to diffuse Lyles mood, “I know but lissen here.  Dealin’ with slavers an nutjobs like these folks...”  At which point Rhynn loudly slams shut her book.  Grosh glances at her a split second and continues, “I don't quite know how ta say this...but I think yer ol' pa's been sold off. Er leas' somebody he knows, er somethin' havin' ta do with ya.”  Rhynn coughs slightly, and she quiets down looking to the floor.

“All the more reason te find 'im!,” Lyle proclaims excitedly.  “But 'ow ye know it may be Ol' Lyle ye 'eard 'bout?”

Elohanna also chooses this moment to interject, “If what you say is true sir... and I am not saying I don't trust you, how can we turn our backs on him and let him live like that?”

Meanwhile, Rhynn stays quiet with the look of someone seriously contemplating if this is a road she wants to take.

Grosh lets his unease into his own voice, “That's the scary part, I don't know, cain't find out, an frankly I'm a bit scared ta go tanglin' with these folks.”

Caniel offers her own advise, “Lyle, dear.  Perhaps your great grandfather does not wish to be found and you should just let it go.  This sounds like a dangerous undertaking.”

Rhynn questions Grosh at almost the same instant as Lyle, though her question begins a hair sooner, “Don't blame ya.  But then how did you get the information?”

Immediately followed by Lyle’s, “So, what?  ye jus' caught win'd o' sumone mentionin' the name Lyle?”

Grosh’s expression turns even more grave and serious and he leans in to speak in quieter, almost whispered tones, “Rumor has it that ya can hear the screams every night, nothin' but the words 'Lyle' and 'Underroot'.  Echoin' all through the streets a Karthy they say, an ya know how those Xeenites can be sometimes.”

Caught up in emotion Elohanna cries out, “Dear Aeridin!, we can't let him continue to be a slave. I can't bear the thought of another being treated that way.”

Even Rhynn says with conviction, “That's it. That settles it. Investigator or not , Hired or not no one deserves that.”
Lyle seems a bit confused, “Underroot?  Well that'd be me.  But my great grandpa likely 'ad a differnt name.”

The others begin to debate a bit as Caniel states, “Everyone has their place in this world, Elohanna, even slaves, dear.”

Rhynn’s, “No. wrong,” is quickly followed y Elohanna’s, “Doesn't mean I have to like that place Caniel!  I am here to help not sit idly by.”  Even Tarquin chimes in, “Slavery is not a natural thing.. it is something created by man and is not something that should be allowed.”

Rhynn smiles genuinely to Elohanna, admiring her conviction and will to voice it, and then she smiles to Tarquin as well.

Caniel coldly answers, “Slavery has been around since the beginning of time, child.  It is part of the nature of man and shall always be part of that nature,” she pauses for but a moment before adding, “I'm sure there are some slaves treated quite well.”

Rhynn scowls bitterly back at Caniel, but it is Elohanna who answers her, “Its a choice, Caniel, to turn someone into something that makes you feel mightier.. its not natural.”

Tarquin also argues, “So you are saying that man should always follow his nature? Such implies man is perfect and I cannot believe that after what I have seen.”

Lyle chooses to focus on what Grosh might know of his great-grandpa or this person who seems to know Lyle’s own name, “So, someone what knows my name is in Karthy bein' tortur'd?”

Grosh turns serious again, “I don't think it's gonna be too long b'fore somebody puts two an two tagether an comes lookin fer ya.  I say bury the name, ferget the past an move on Lyle, really.”  His emotion dripping with his deep sincerity for Lyle’s safety.

Lyle answers back, “Indeedy...but ah can' do that sah.  Ain' gonna turn my back on sumone like that.”  Lyle slides a small bag of coins across the table to Grosh, “ 'ere's sum True te cover yer troubles.”

“A'right then,” Grosh sighs, “If that's your plan, then I say just make it on down ta Karthy an see what's what, jus'...be careful, the world's a scary place ya know.”

“Indeedy, ah know well 'nuff,” Lyle says.

“We can always hope so at least,” Grosh answers.

Rhynns adds her own comment, the loathing for Karthy apparent in her voice, “Especially in Karthy...gods ...”

Once more Caniel tries to talk Lyle out into a more reasonable and safe course, “As this nice gentleman said, it would be easier to just change your name and move onward with your life Lyle.  Leave this bad chapter left unturned.”

Lyle chooses to ignore her for the moment as he tries to ask Grosh a further question, “So, do ye 'ave any othah name ah might look up when ah git te Karthy?”

Grosh in turn apparently chooses to ignore Lyle’s last, covering it up with, “And since the service here ain't service at 'tall, I'm gonna make my way back ta the Point, maybe I c'n get a drink there...in a month.”  He rolls his eyes as he gets up and turns away.

Lyle answers himself, “Guess not.”  For a moment he simply sits in his seat until finally he musters the resolve to begin again, “Well....”  He follows the singular word with a heavy sigh drenched with a bit if exasperation.

“Well to karthy...,” Rhynn picks up for him, “slave liberation front.”

“Well, ah don' know ifn ah kin ask any o' ye te 'elp me ifn it's te involve slavers an such,” Lyle says to offer the others a way out if they choose it.

The first to respond is Rhynn, quickly stating, “You don't have to ask.”

Elohanna smiles at Rhynn before she speaks as well, “Lyle, this is your family. Your choice but I am with you to help.”

Having taken note of Rhynn’s apparent loathing for Karthy and the slave traders there, Lyle surmises to ask, “Miss Rhynn, ye sound as though ye've 'ad 'xperience though...  What kin ye tell us?”

“Sadly,” Rhynn begins, “Karthy's terrible. Slave trade is terrible.  Besides that Karthy's a rough tuff city all about getting over on eachother. you can't trust your left hand from your right in that place.  The last time I was there some terrible things happened.  So, lets just hope we won't be dealing with those same people.  Though if we are...”  Her voice trails off and she finishes with a shrug.

Tarquin speaks up to add his own knowledge if only to support what Rhynn’s already said, “Indeed... Karthy is a tough town... people seem to have little care but getting over on each other there for their own selfish purposes.  Never the less I am with this till the end.”

“Yup,” agrees Rhynn to Tarquins summarized restatement of her own description of Karthy.

“Indeedy,” Lyle breathes.  “Well, ah intend te find out who it is what knows me thar, an' set 'em free.  Well, way ah see it, ifn someone's callin' out my name when they're tortured, it likely means they're callin' fer 'elp.”

Elohanna pipes in, “I have seen people looked down upon to long to sit and watch it continue Lyle.  Caniel, it is your choice to come along or not.”

“I'll follow along for now, dear,” Caniel answers as she prepares for the long walk, picking up her staff and looking around a bit as she waits for the others.

“Ah appreciate that Caniel, ah sure do,” Lyle tells her.

Elohanna lso adds her own thanks, “Thank you Caniel.”

“As a servant of Aeridin I can not sit idly by and still consider myself a true follower,” intones Tarquin in his definitive voice.

“Good.  No one else deserves that kind of life.  I've lived through it too long to sit idol,” replies Rhynn.  Then she decides to ask what route they’ll take getting there, “We going through the swamps or around and down?”

Lyle considers the question for a moment, the safety of those with him weighing more heavily than the urgency to find his great-grandfather.  “Well, easiest route would be back out the way we came in, then off through Fort Himlad.  An’ ah’m all fer takin’ it easy.”

“Yup,” states Rhynn, affirming Lyles choice of routes.

After a few more moments preparing to set out from the inn of Lannisport, the group finally gets underway.  Their overland trip to Karthy is rather uneventful and they make good time as they go across Rilara.  The mystery ahead of them something flying circles in the clouded skies of Lyle’s mind, with great leathery wings and a serpentine body.  The Halfling bard mutters under his breath repeatedly as they travel, “Wings an’ scales, wings an’ scales…”  His mind too occupied to conjure up the diversions of entertaining.

[Nehetsrev]

Chapter Three:  The Screamer Of Karthy

 
At last, nearing the gates of Karthy, beautiful Lake Io nearby, the group halts for a moment to discuss how best to probe the city for information about who might be screaming Lyle’s name in the dark of night, and where said person may be found.  A healthy dose of paranoia and apprehension asserts itself among them, given firm root by the shadows of Rhynn’s past experiences in Karthy of which she gives few details.  As Lyle’s own mind wraps itself around thoughts of how best to cope in the sinful city, he decides it is entirely possible, however unlikely it would seem, that the whole thing is a trap designed to snare he himself for what dire purpose he cannot fathom.

His thoughts leading to a conclusion of sorts Lyle speaks his mind, “Hmmm...maybe ifn' they be expectin' Lyle Underroot in Karthy, sumone othah than Lyle Underroot ought te arrive thar?”

Rhynn is quick to voice, “Lets just pray they don’t know what you look like.”

“Perhaps one of us could go in and ask questions?,” Elohanna offers in way of an alternative.

Rhynn ponders the statement a moment, “Hm...that sounds more like my contract.”

Wishing to be directly involved, if only for the small peace of mind feeling somewhat in control offers him, Lyle extrapolates on his idea, “Or ah could jus' use a diff'rent name while we're thar.”

This time it is Elohanna who adds, “And pray they don't know what you look like.”

Her replie is not given alone, however, as Tarquin also voices similar thought, “As long as they don't know what you look like.”

With some chagrin Rhynn questions with a hint of annoyance, “Is there an echo out here?”

Caniel disregards Rhynn in favor of commenting to Elohanna of the nature of Halflings, “All halflings look the same, dear.”

The statement provokes a small fit of laughter and comic relief sorely needed to break the tension among them all.  Elohanna’s melodic laugh is heard perhaps most of all, while Rhynn just rolls her eyes and comments in retort, “So do elves.”  She goes on to mumble something to herself of which the word ‘snoody’ canbe heard.

Her comment gives Elohanna pause form her laughter to ask, “Whats that about elves?”

Rhynn answers Elohanna with the one word, “Snoody.”

“I am not!,” Elohanna pouts in defense of herself, “Passionate, but not snoody.”

Rhynn grins and responds again, “No you're not. I'm a quarter snoody.”

“I buy it Rhynn but I like you anyway,” says Elohanna, a bit placated.

“Heh,” remarks Rhynn.

Having had enough of the humorous squabble, Lyle changes the subject back to their purpose in Karthy, and his own renoun, “Well, ah don' think ah'm that famous as te be known by my face.”

The others stay their tongues for a moment, so Lyle decides to continue, “Alright....should I use a differn't name?”

Rhynn of course has an answer ready, and she pronounces authoritatively, “I here by dub thee Joeseph Gingerroot.”

Elohanna’s cute giggle follows the pronouncement and she in turn announces her opinion, “I like it!”

With a youthful and playful smirk Lyle decides to be contrary, “Hmmm...ah like Robert Coldkettle bettah.”

Perhaps with a note of contempt for his own suggestion, Rhynn simply responds, “Whatever.”

Playing devil’s advocate Elohanna asks, “So which will it be?  So we can keep our story straight.”

Lyle’s smirk grows a smidge, “We'll compromise.  Call me Jo Coldkettle.  Everah one got it?”

Elohanna makes a quick bow, “As you wish Mr. Coldkettle.”

With her usual droll manner Caniel remarks, “Indeed.”

“Good thing I was a black haired, green eyed gal last time,” says Rhynn, “Right, and while we're doing this I'm Rina.  Understood?”

“Rina, right,” agrees Lyle with all seriousness.

Tarquin also voices the pseudonyms, “Jo Coldkettle, eh?... and Rina...”

Elohanna repeats them as well, her smile and light-hearted tones giving the impression she’s trying to stifle another giggle, “Rina and Jo.”

Her mind becoming more focused on the task ahead of them, and the city within which it lies, Rhynn comments more for her own benefit than that of those with her, “Gods, I hate this city.”

Lyle decides it’s best to ask, “Any last name Rina?”

His question goes unheard, or at least is not acknowledged by Rhynn as she continues to mutter to herself, “Lovely temple. Thats about it.”

Tarquin voices his agreements with Rhynn’s views of Karthy, “I think everyone hates this city.”

“I think Rosie works here at night,” jokes Caniel in her usual dry tones, or perhaps she did not mean it to be a joke, with her it’s hard to tell sometimes.

“Yeah yeah sure sure,” Rhynn says with all the lack of caring she can muster in her voice.

Lyle wonders who it is Caniel commented about, “Rosie?”

The questioning tone provokes Rhynn to giggle for reasons unknown to Lyle, and Caniel explains further for his benefit, “Little halfling gal.  I think she's a street harlot.”

“Lovely,” comments Rhynn, “Halfling harlot.  Guess halflings need a good time too.”

Their conversation ended for the moment the group makes it’s way into Karthy through the gates near the main docks.  As usual, the shouts of the depraved acts that are the cornerstone of the city echo through the bustling streets.  Vendors hawk exotic wares that may or may not be stolen, or even genuine.  Skantily clad men and women walk the streets with no regard for what words leave their mouth or their appearance.

Caniel walks just ahead of the rest and begins her commentary, “This place hasn't changed.  Complete sewer.  It should be burned to the ground and razed.”  She pauses for a moment her face showing full of annoyance apparently at the city itself, “Den of filth.”

Tarquin looks about, his disgust at all that he surveys written plainly upon his stern face.

Meanwhile Elohanna tightens the opening of her hood with the grasp of one hand at its base near her neckline, further hiding her face from view and hiding as well the look of disappointment at seeing such a sinful place.

For a few moments they all walk along in silence as they make their way through the streets and markets.  The silence lasts until finally Lyle asks, “Well Rina, where ye want te start?”

“Well Jo. I have no idea,” comes Rhynn’s answer.  She continues though, “Slave traders by the docks usually.   Not these... the ones near the temple.”

Lyle thinks about what Grosh told them back in Lannisport and he guesses, “Well, it's nearin' nightfall....maybe we'll 'ear the screams ourselves.”

A thoughtful, “Hmm,” comes from Rhynn.  While Caniel offers her own comment, “We can only hope dear.”

“Not sumthin' ah'm lookin' forward te 'earin,” Lyle answers in almost depressed tones.

“That elf looks yummy maybe I should give him to Karn for his birthday,” Rhynn’s attitude apparently changed, perhaps as her own blondness took over Lyle reasoned to himself, while she added, “I forgot. I love this city.”

“Figures, dear,” came Caniel’s needling.

“Of course it does,” replied Rhynn smugly.

Coming to a halt in an intersection of one of the main streets and one of the dark and narrow alleyways, the group looked around for a few moments.  At one time or another, each of the companions glimpsed lurking in the dark alleyways that quickly disappeared when attention was turned on them.

“Great....,” began Rhynn, “That's it. I'm not playing this time.”  Her speech turned quickly into the voicing and gesturing of magic incantations as she cast a spell upon herself.  Lyle recognized the patterns she used to bend the Weave as those used to cast the spell of True Seeing.

“Ah think it best we stick wit' eachothah...,” Lyle suggested quietly.

Elohanna gave voice ot what they all likely felt, “This place gives me the creeps.”

Her casting completed, Rhynn began looking about, for what Lyle and the others could not be sure, but her gaze was intent and serious.  She peered into every shadow, every nook, every place that might harbor a hidden foe.  This went on for perhaps a minute before she spoke again, “I changed my mind again. I hate this place.”

The hour grew later as the group made their way.  The setting sun shrouded behind layers of  clouds, still painting the horizon of the ashen sky with a peculiar shade of red-orange in the west.  The shadows in the streets lengthened, and while some pedestrian traffic died off slightly, it remained busy in the sleepless city of sin.

With an air of nervous tension Tarquin spoke, “Keep on your toes... I sense trouble...”

“This town reeks of trouble Tarquin, and filth,” Elohanna answered with a bit of disgust.

Tarquin persisted in his cautioning, “Yes but I sense trouble concerning us...  More than usual.”

Annoyed a bit and tired of the apprehension Lyle interjected, “Jus' keep on yer toes.”  His voice giving pause for only a moment before he addressed Rhynn with a question in order to change the focus of the group from their growing paranoia, “ain' thar docks in the othah part o' the city opposit the temple too?”

Seeming to sense Lyle’s wish to ease the tension Elohanna begins her own line of commentary as they continue through the darkening streets, “It wasn't long ago I was being used as Giant bait.”

“Giant bait?  really?,” Lyle smirks with a tiny bit of personal amusement punctuated further by a hearty laugh, “Ah love baitin' giants.”

Elohanna’s smile spread on her face as she went on to explain, “Yes, Melanna had me with her in Dregar.”

Just then the group came to the edge of a wide market square.  On one side of the plaza stood the Xeenite temple, covered with climbing grapevines, and on the other side were the cities other set of docks, those used by less reputable merchants of wares even more taboo than most sold in other places of the city.

“Slavers usually congregate there,” Rhynn informed the rest as she pointed toward the docks.
“Good as place as any to start,” came Elohanna’s input.

Lyle turned his eyes toward where Rhynn had indicated, they wandered the area looking over what could be easily observed from their distance with displeasure concerning the detail they would likely see as they drew closer.  Nevertheless, he began to step in the direction of the docks with determination, calling to those with him, “We'll jus' mosey that way then.”

Rhynn watched perhaps a little absently as he strode past her and took the front, her subdued reply, “Yeah....”

Lyle understood that to blend in, he and the rest would have to appear to be the normal sort to frequent such a place, so he put on his best acting and pretended to seem interested in the slaves on display in their cages.  Perhaps he was genuinely interested in them to be honest, but not as slaves, rather as people who ought to be free, well-cared for and returned to health, and most importantly, given back their spirit and dignity.  He kept all his revulsion for what he saw within himself, acting outwardly as though such things were normal.  Others in the group, such as Tarquin, did not or could not hide their disgust as they trailed behind him some way.  As they strode along the docks, the last light of the sun bled from the sky leaving the heavens darkened and black behind the shroud of ashen clouds above.  Only the torches and lanterns of the merchant’s and city lamp-posts gave any illumination in the darkness.  Until in that darkness, from somewhere on the darkened plaza was heard a chilling wail of utmost torment and anguish.

“LYYYYYYYLLLLLEEEEE!!!!!,” the voice called, it’s utterance tugging at Lyle’s own heart and causing him to freeze mid-step to listen.

Rhynn heard it too, in fact they had, but she spoke first of all of them, “Well…  I think the wise men call that a lead.”  Perhaps bothered by the pain of the lone voice Rhynn set her eyes upon those outside the cages.  Her eyes burned with disgust, hatred, malice, and sadistic intent towards them all, those slave-traders who would traffic in the souls of others for their own selfish profit.

Elohanna’s eyes remained on those inside the cages, a sadness and compassion for them burning within her eyes every bit as strongly as Rhynn’s eyes burned at the slave-traders, though the rest of her face remained composed and betrayed nothing of her emotions.

Looking around to Lyle, Tarquin tells him, “Sounds like the sound came from near the temple in south end of town... I think we should take a look.”

It was not what Rhynn had been hoping to hear, Lyle surmised, as she let out a groan.  Lyle thought he understood why.

“The temple....,” Lyle sighed, “that ain' good.”

Sensing anxiety among the slaves Elohanna alerted Lyle in hushed tones that only those close by should hear, “The Slaves know something is up... Look at them. They know.”

Caniel responded coolly, perhaps not catching exactly what Elohanna had said, “The only thing they can hope for is a kind master.”

Lyle had heard Elohanna clearly enough and he questioned her in hushed tones of his own a bit paranoid about what she might mean, “What you mean, like they know 'bout us?”

“No... not us specifically, but what is going on nearby,” Elohanna explained before beig interrupted by another wailing moan from the agonized voice.

“LLLLLYYYYYYEEEEELLLL!!!,” the voice in the darkness called out again.  The group had been slowly moving across the plaza since first hearing the voice and this time the source of the voice sounded closer than before.  Lyle could tell the voice came from a second story window of the wing of the temple to his left.  He motioned the others over to inform them.

“Sounds like it's coming from up thar,” he said, pointing upward to the window.

Rhynn begins with a tirade of frustrated words pouring out form her lips, “Great. Lovely.  Perfect….  I could send Thos up to take a look.”

Lyle felt it to be a good idea not to linger for too long under the window from which the voice came.  If this were a trap for him, it could be dangerous if his would-be trappers noticed he and the others there.  He decided to direct the others along, “Hmm....best we keep movin' fer now ah think. lest we be spotted.”

Rhynn may not have understood his intent and she began, “You guys look,” pausing a moment to look left and right suspiciously, “wait and listen.”  The others however had already begun to move away with Lyle so she added, “Or move and don’t.”

The group retreated at a casual pace back down one of the main streets they had come down to reach the plaza, Elohanna stopping by a fountain for a moment.  Lyle decided they were far enough for the temple that they could draw to the side and plan further.

“This looks safe enough te plan at...,” he motioned for the others to step aside with him, “Ovah 'ere.”

It was then that Rhynn began again what she had once tried to begin to explain just under the window from which the voice had been heard.  “Alright you guys seriously.  Listen.  That right there is ...,” she paused again to look around suspiciously from side to side once more before continuing quietly, “That's the Vine's HQ.”

“The Vine?,” asked Lyle inquisitively.

“I've dealt with them before. They're smart, cunning, heavily Xeenite.  Yeah...  Dunno what they'd want,” all coming forth in a quick and harsh whisper.

“Ain' nevah 'eard o' the Vine afore,” Lyle began somewhat defensively, though quietly.

Rhynn gave him a look that indicated she was dead serious, “Good , better you haven't.  Just know its dangerous.”  She paused again, looking almost frantic as she glanced over her shoulders to left and right and then behind once more, definitely nervous.

“Right....but we're goin' te do sumthin' bout that person anyway, ain' we?,” Lyle said, not about to let her fears keep him from doing something for the poor soul whose wails had been heard by all and now gripped his own heart fiercely.

Rhynn looked back and whispered an option, “I can send Thos up to take a look in the window. He's a fey and can go unseen, but we have to be REALLY careful.”

Lyle nodded his agreement, “Right nuff, ah 'ear ye thar Miss Rina.”

Tarquin seemed about to do something foolish as he began, “I am going to help that person... whether you all chose to help or not is your choice.”

“Thats perfectly understandable sir,” Rhynn said, quickly to put him in check, “but you aren’t going to be a lot of help dead or worse.”

Lyle also chimed in to put Tarquin on hold, “Well, sah, don' go doin' nuthin' foolish-like, or we'll be 'avin' te save yer 'ide as well.”

Frustration beginning to surface in her voice Rhynn warned further, “Trust the one who's done this before, for all your sake.  The only 'saving' I’m doing is telling you guys from the start.  I'm not rushin in saving yer arses if you chose not to listen now.”

To help placate Rhynn, Lyle states his confidence, “Ah'm trustin' Rina.  ah'm trustin'.“

His confidence in her knowledge and trust in it as well seemed to please Rhynn and she smiled to Lyle for a moment.

Tarquin, satisfied that something would be done to help the wailing voice, seemed willing ot listen further instead of charging in foolishly.  He also affirmed his understanding of Rhynn’s warning by answering, “I wouldn't expect anything else.”

“Yer a smart group, I trust yeh...my accent's comin back,” she seemed a bit surprised at the last but continued, leaning back against a wall, “So...Whacha wanna do?”

Lyle thought for just a moment before asking, “So, ye think yer Thos kin git up thar an' look 'bout safe-like then?”

“Mhm....,” Rhynn hummed positively.

“That seems to be the best way to start,” Tarquin agreed.

“But I ain't callin’ nuthin’ out in the open here.  Damnit!,” stated Rhynn firmly.

“Then best we git some info 'bout what we're gettin' inte afore we go,” spoke Lyle on behalf of himself and the others.

Rhynn began to rant in a fervent whisper, “Oh trust me, I have a bunch of info and none of its pretty.  They deal in slave trade, take contracts from others, are Xeen affiliated and above all they’re dangerous.”

Lyle begins to lead with, “Let's step out o' town.”

However, he is ignored for the moment as Tarquin begins to remark, “I am not suprised...,” his voice trailed off as he looks suspiciously at a nearby ticket seller.  He begins again in a whisper, “We are being watched.”

Rhynn’s eyes follow Tarquins gaze and she frowns, “Aww, not her again.”

Lyle’s eyes follow both Tarquin’s and Rhynn’s to settle for just a moment upon the woman selling tickets and he asks, “Ye 'ad dealin's wit her afore?”

“Yeah,” Rhynn whispers back, “You got some coin mebbe I can bribe her inta talking.  Take it outta mah pay I dun care.”

Caniel speaks up in her smooth cultured tones, “I have 100 coin dear you can have.”

“Ah ain' got much on me.  But ah've got 142 in my purse,” Lyle adds to the bribe money.

“Jus gonnae ask her...Aw gods and there's my dwarven...if she knows anythin bout the screamin,” Rhynn begins, again seemingly surprised by her own change of accent.  After taking the coin handed her by Lyle and Caniel she steps off toward the ticket-seller.

As Rhynn begins to talk with the woman, handing her bits of coin to keep the information flowing, the rest of the gruo is just close enough to hear her side of the conversation, but not that of the ticket-seller.

“Heya.  Gotta question fer ya...,” Rhynn begins, “Someone's screamin’ somethin’ terrible back there.  Can ya tell me whatcha know?”  Her persuasive tones drawing out the woman, “Yeah yeah sure sure know what it is?  Meh, I'm not all dat dangerous.   ..Right.”  Their exchange continues on for a while.

In the mean time, Caniel once more tries to dissuade Lyle for his own safety, “It's not too late to just leave, Lyle.  There seems to be an air of danger about this group.”

Lyle gently reminds Caniel to use his pseudonym and remains firm in his stand to help the wailing person, and hopefully find more about his great-grandpa at the same time, “Jo...remembah.  An' it is too late fer me conscience.  Ifn ye wan' te leave Caniel, feel free te.”

Caniel responds, “I think it best that we all leave, but I shall stay as long as you wish, child.”

Lyle gives Caniel a polite nod and whispers, “Ah appreciate yer loyalty.  Yer wisdom too.  But sumtimes a fellas gotta do sumthin' unwise te do what's right.”

The conversation between Rhynn and the ticket-seller goes on some more, “But I neva talked to anyone.  See , so yah can tell me.  Like yer outfit by the way.  That I can.  After you tell me…  I see I see…  Yeah, you can say dat again.  I see I see.  Hrm hrm.  Yeah I mean he dun sound like 'es havin the usual fun…  Iffin ya know what I mean...ugh..if.  Dat's what I was thinkin’.  Thanks for da info there then, I'll try just dat.”  Rhynn gives the woman a few more things to buy her silence from the sounds of what she says, “Hmm..and lesse.  Here's a pretty ring.”  A moment or twolater she strides back to the group to share what she’s found out from her talk.

“Guys lets move,” Rhynn advises in a whisper and indicating the gate that leads to Io Lake outside the city walls.

The group moves with her and settles to listen once outside the city near the lake.  The still, and dark night air weighing in heavy silence upon them, only their own movements and quiet talking disturbing the air, and even they seem muffled in the dark.

“Right...,” Rhynn begins again, “So the shop lady says they be lookin ta get ri....,” she pauses to shake her head at herself and then starts over, “They're looking to get rid of whatever's screaming up there.”

Her comment grabs Lyles attention, “Hmm?”

“We can 'Buy him cheap',” she explains, “meaning we're going to buy back whoever's screaming your name.”

Lyle is a bit leery and asks, “Why don' that sound right te me?”

Rhynn answers matter-of-factly, “Because its not.  Welcome to karthy.”

Caniel comments, “Oh, good.  I could use a slave.  So much to do around the house,” and Lyle hopes she’s just being sarcastic.

Realizing he’s been misunderstood Lyle further explains himself, “No, ah mean seems aweful easy.”

Elohanna also comments distractedly, “Why would we want someone screaming though? Thats going to raise suspicion.”

Lastly Tarquin offers his help, “I am a bit uneasy about it as well... but I have 3200 coin you can have if it helps...”

Rhynn prepares to answer Elohanna’s question and explain her plan to the others, “We're interested in training lost causes.  We can make a efficient slave outta anyone, that's our story.”

“Right, did the shop lady say 'ow cheap?,” Lyle asks as he understands the gist of her plan.

“Nope,” Rhynn answers.  “But I mean hey, if you'd rather run in blasting Hlintite Heroics…”

“Are we going to keep him after grilling the lad for information?,” probes Caniel.

“No,” says Rhynn quickly.

Lyle also comments, “Well, ah'll 'ave te empty my bank account ah'm thinkin'.....an' 'ope it's 'nuff.  We'll take the fella te someplace safe an' set 'im up te live free.”

Tarquin points out, “Well they should be looking to get rid of him so we should be able to negotiate.”

Elohanna also offers her continued support, and what gold she has, “You can have the gold I have on me.  Its not much, but it’s for a good cause.”

“Once again it should be either myself or Lyle talking. Lyle you got the bardic gift o gab?,” Rhynn asks.

Lyle’s humble answer is, “Well, Ah talk a fair bit.”

Elohanna flashes a smile and comments, “As a bard, you wouldn't be a bard if you didn't talk.”

“Then you'll be fine,” Rhynn continues, “I'll watch and make sure you don't dig yourself a hole.”

“Who is going to be foolish enough to believe we want a slave that screams bloody murder all night long?  They will certainly try to upsell us,” challenges Caniel.

Elohanna is quick to retort, “A desperate seller.”

Tarquin also adds, “People who are fools for money will believe nearly anything...”

“These people arent fools,” a dose of warning creeps back into Rhynn’s lecturing voice, “They're keeping him for a reason, but we have to try this.”

Caniel again points out a possible problem with the plan, “And what if this slave actually recognizes Lyle?...  he obviosuly knows something of him, if only his name.”

“Bait,” Elohanna points out.

“Indeedy, ah'm thinkin' it's a trap, but ah can't reason why anyone'd want te trap me?,” Lyle tries to reason.

Rhynn begins to think aloud to herself, “Now I THINK their door has some kind of special knock…  a combination of four knocks three and two. But I forgot the order.”  She pauses and then continues, “No..No no no.  I hate hate hate numbers.”

Lyle thinks of some questions and attempts to ask Rhynn, “Well, bein' as we're new 'round 'ere, should we e'en know their secret knock?  An' what ifn they change it regular-like anyway?”

Rhynn seems to be apparently too caught up in trying to remember the secret knock for the door of the Vine’s HQ and Lyles questions go unanswered as she continues, “Knock Three times...pause....  No...  Wait yeah.  Knock three times pause...  Knock...Hrm..Twice pause.  Knock four times?”  Going on as though asking herself, “I think that may be it..I know the first two parts are good.  At least I think I know...”  Finally she seems content to have remembered, “Sorry for that....Yeah thats the way in though I can show you the door and knock and hope I dont die.  No one else touch the door as I don't want anyone putting themselves in danger for stupid mistakes.”

“Well, ifn ye've 'ad dealin's wit' these folks afore, would it bettah ifn ye did the talkin' Rina, or ifn ah did?,” Lyle requests to know.

Rhynn responds, “Actually it may be better if I like....Stayed hidden and you did the talking.  I may or may not have seriously pissed some people there off.  Warning: They're very Xeenish.”

Thinking that Rhynn fears beign recognized Lyle comments and asks, “Right nuff....thar be a problem wit' yer face then ah take it?”

“Nah dont think so,” though her gaze seems to watch Tarquin as though she’s worried he’ll cause trouble, “Eh...we should be alright.  Ready to try this?”

Still mainly unfamiliar with the layout of the city Lyle asks for direction, “Okay, where's tha bank so ah kin git some coin out te make the deal?”

“This way,” leads Rhynn.

Caniel simply smirks as they go.

Arriving at the bank Lyle is somewhat surprised to see it still open even in the dead of night.  He tries to slip in rather quietly and Tarquin follows him in as well.  The both of them withdraw their funds and Tarquin hands his bag of Trues to Lyle.

Elohanna asks, “How much do you have Jo?”

Trying to keep things quiet given the nature of Karthy and it’s inhbitants Lyle whispers back, “Wit' what 'e jus' gave me, we got just ovah 10000.”

Though she really needn’t, Rhynn sees fit to advise, “Dont offer it all at once.”

Lyle responds, “Ah don' intend te start offer'n more an' half.”

Lyle looks around cautiously as he realizes that almost as soon as the figure of the amount of money he has leaves his mouth, he notices that several of the commoners in the street still manage to hear it despite his whispering.  They look at him wide eyed, then with a narrow dangerous glance they pretend to go on about their business.

Elohanna on the other hand appears to have noticed nothing of the looks from the surrounding people and comments with a small note of disgust, “There’s a worm on my shoe.”

Lyle spurs the group on, “We best move.....folks are lookin' at me like they're sharks.”

Rhynn leads again, “This way.”  After walking back to the plaza and then around to the back of the temple of Xeen, Rhynn stops in front of a door.  She eyes the door for a moment then directs the others, “Alright...step back a bit this could get ugly.”  Next, she rolls up her sleeve and makes ready to knock.

Tarquin decides to ignore her instruction and himself steps toward the door, his arm outstretched he intones, “I have faith.”

“Dont touch it!,” Rhynn nearly yells in a harsh whisper, “Jeez.  Faith is gonna get you killed.  Alright?”

Tarquin stays his hand only an inch from the door, “Perhaps.”

Lyle warns him further, “Bes' listen te Rina.”

Relaxing a little as Tarquin lowers his hand Rhynn apologizes, “Sorry to bite your head off.  This place makes me edgy.  Anyway…”  She begins the secret knock by knocking three times.  After a pause she knocks twice more with a worried look.  Then she knocks one…two…three…four times and cringes.

Quickly a small hole, at eye level slides open in the wall, and a crossbow bolt is aimed right at the middle of Rhynn's forehead.  A gravely, wine-soaked voice croaks, “Password?”

[Nehetsrev]

Chapter Four:  Lyle Underroot, Slavemaster


With Rhynn standing with a crossbow bolt to her head, and obviously in fear of her life, the situation had become tense to say the least.  Lyle’s own hand edged slowly down to the hilt of his adamantium dagger, the one Lillian had made for him in her early efforts of weapon-crafting.

Caniel muttered under her breath, but loud enough that Lyle who was standing near her could hear, “Well, isn't this a lovely idea.”

While the rest could not likely see from the angle at which they stood, it might be likely that Tarquin would have noticed Rhynn’s eyes cross as they focused on the bolt to her head and followed the length of it back to the hand holding the grip with finger on trigger.  Tarquin stood beside the door, back to the wall, and almost frozen as he appeared ready to make a grasp for the protruding crossbow.

Elohanna, who also stood near Lyle, questioned in a whisper with tones of fearful concern, “Password?”

Caniel’s sarcastic response to Elohnna’s questioning whisper stirred a slight frown on Lyle’s own lips, “Perhaps she should try 'screaming slave'.”

Lyle was hopeful Rhynn knew the password for which she’d been asked, but in his recollection of her earlier ramblings to herself, it seemed to him that she’d known only of the knock and had made no mention of any password.  Every one of his nerves on edge, he waited as Rhynn stood transfixed.

Knowing that here too much hesitation could be worse than even a wrong answer, Caniel urged for action as she whispered next to Lyle, “Is she just going to stand there and get shot in the head?  I suggest she say something.”

Lyle knew Caniel was right, so in turn he spoke up to give Rhynn a verbal nudge, “Rina, the man ask'd ye a question.”

Caniel barked in a harsh whisper, “Fool.”  Lyle was unsure if she meant himself or Rhynn, but likely she meant both.

Overcoming her instant of fear of death, Rhynn finally sighed and breathed her answer to the question of the man behind the door, “Ranalea.”

Croaking out with a drunken chuckle the voice from behind the door answered Rhynn’s guess at a password, “Good one.  C'mon in, I love hearin’ what all these people come up wit’.”  The crossbow was quickly withdrawn and the door swung open, letting the dim light within the room beyond to spill out onto the street.

Looking at Rhynn and realizing that now he was on the stage of Life & Death, Lyle began to play the part he’d imagined for himself.  Now would come the real danger to them all, and inside that doorway lay perhaps the answers to his questions about his great-grandfather.  “Well...it was your idea,” he commented as he strode past her with a chuckle.  “My sort o’ joke to,” he said with his best malicious grin to the doorman.

Rhynn breathed heavily, thankful to yet be alive, but Lyle did not spare the glance at her after passing to see her reaction to his own comment.  He noted the corridor he now entered descended downward into a lush apartment.  He could hear Tarquin speak behind him to Rhynn what sounded like an encouraging comment in regards to faith.  This was not the sort of place one ever let down there ease, and Lyle’s hand remained near his dagger-haft in the most casual manner he could muster.

Indeed, as Tarquin smiled to Rhynn he said, “Told you a bit of faith goes a long way.”

Finally regaining her complete composure Rhynn followed Lyle’s lead and began to act herself, “Well that was a lovely joke fellas!”

The rest at last followed Lyle inside one after the other through the doorway.  Once down below they noticed many thugs and cutthroats who appeared to be mingling with one another, discussing their trade.  The sound of much merriment could be heard in the background of the whole abode.

“Act happy,” whispered Rhynn as she caught up to him and gave him a nudge, “Have fun.  This is your show bub.”

An obviously forced smile spread across Tarquin’s features if one care enough to notice.  It wasn’t hard to tell he wasn’t pleased with this den of thieves and whatnot they’d made their way into.  Lyle simply pray the cleric would keep himself in line and play along or this would turn into a deadly visit for them all.

With a hearty laugh Lyle addressed one of the thugs standing nearby, “Well, let's talk 'bout why we're 'ere.  Simple really, Ah'm lookin' fer cheap labor.”  As the words left his mouth a familiar sounding scream could be heard from the next chamber, though this time no words could be made out of it.  Following the scream came the sound of several whip-cracks and the voice turned into a softer whimper.  Another voice, this one feminine, could be heard saying, "Bodoc, will you PLEASE just shut him up?"

Tarquin now was obviously fighting very hard his inner disgust, a fact Lyle was thankful for, at leas thte man wasn’t jumping into action that would end in their deaths.  Rhynn too seemed disgusted, while Elohanna’s compassionate visage seemed filled with the anguish she felt inside.  Caniel’s features remained cold, and she seemed to count the number of guards and other persons present that could be seen.

A moment later recognition at the woman’s voice dawned upon Rhynn and with a smirk she whispered to Lyle, “Find the woman.  Her name is Ranalea.”  After passing the information to Lyle she stepped over to grab a bowl of grapes, picking at them every so often and looking casual.  It seemed no one in the place was paying their group any mind anyway as they went about their drinking and having a grand time, but such cautions taken to blend in were still wise.

Lyle’s eyes and face lit with his best business smile as he continued to address the thug, “Ah need te talk wit’ Ranalea.  Where’s she at?”

Lyle’s question finally elicited a response from the thug who pointed onward to the next room from which the woman’s voice had come a moment before.

“Nevahmid, ah'll find 'er myself,” Lyle grumbled like a rich merchant who expected to be escorted about and announced like royalty.

“Go ahead Lyle,” Rhynn encouraged, and Lyle whinced wishing she hadn’t used his real name.  Too late and damage done he resolved as he passed through the threshold into the next room.  Tarquin too showed a bit of sense and cringed at the use of Lyle’s name as well.

Lyle tipped his hat as was his custom, a practiced, friendly grin spread on his face.  “Hello miss,” he began to introduce himself to the woman who could only be Ranalea who was seated in a chair before him with half-lidded eyes and rubbing her head wearily.

The woman looked up, “Oh...hello...”  Her voice trailed off as though she expected an explaination for being disturbed.

Lyle took the moment to give her one, “Ye'll need te pardon my manners, ah'm quite new at this whole business, but ah hear tell yer the lady te talk te 'bout buyin' good stock.”

The woman looking past Lyle to the door of the other room with a satisfied nod at the silence answered, “Oh, that I am.”  Her eyes looked him over again with more depth, “What can I do for you?”

“Well, ah'm lookin' fer cheap labor, o' course,” Lyle answered in his best business manner, as though this were an everyday transaction and nothing out of the norm.

“I see,” the woman said, looking slightly distraught all of a sudden.  “Pardon me for one moment.”  She walked past them then, and to the other room from which the screams had come earlier.

Rhynn took the moment to remind Lyle in a whisper, “Remember, we're in the business of training hopeless cases.”  Lyle turned in place and continued to stare after Ranalea without so much as a hint of acknowledgement to Rhynn’s whispering.  His ears strained to listen as the woman began to talk with someone.

"You didn't kill him did you?," she asked someone out of view.  Another muffled voice from beyond the door replied in the negative.

Rhynn whispered something explicit to herself before adding, “I hate this place.”

Ranalea continued her conversation outside the door, “Good, things are bad enough without you randomly murdering people, the blood-splatter and all.”

At that moment Rhynn coughed, and a moment later Ranalea returned into the room.  “Anyways...,” looking relieved, “Where were we?”

Lyle smiled as he watched Ranalea come back in.  Elohanna looked to be watching the woman carefully, and Rhynn looked away, perhaps to obviously, keeping her own face under her hood.  Ranalea’s eyes cut toward Rhynn for a moment, then back to Lyle and a vapid smile spread across her face.  Rhynn remained turned away.

“As ah were sayin'....cheap labor, the cheaper the bettah, condition don't mattah so much, so long as it's alive,” Lyle continued his act of the business-like slave-buyer.

Tarquin chose that moment to slide close to Rhynn and whisper only loud enough for her to hear, “If something goes wrong slam that door and get a hold of your friend I will entertain the gentlemen in the hall.”  Rhynn simply rolled her eyes at the directives given by Tarquin, something no one but her could have seen, though Lyle wouldn’t have anyway since all his focus was on his act.

Ranalea spoke, “I see...well, could you be a bit more specific?  Manual labor, domestic, or something a bit more...fun?”  She paused a moment before going on, “I know somebody at the docks that has a dwarf that looks like he could haul a ton of rock, only has a slight limp.  A few nice humans and half elven bastard children...”

“Well, a bit o' it all really, though it do need te have a voice to...don't like mutes an' all,” Lyles voice replied with perhaps a seedy tone hidden underneath the polished surface of a selfish and wealthy merchant.

Ranalea looked back at Lyle with consideration before continuing, “Seem to be running a bit shy on Halflings, they do make the best butlers and all.  They’re just the right height to set drinks on their heads...if you train them to stand still long enough.”

Lyle felt perhaps the comment was meant to insult him into betraying his true intent here.  He was too experienced a performer to be so easily provoked into abandoning his role, however, and he coolly replied, “Indeed...”

For a moment the room remained just a little too silent as the two gauged each other, then Lyle spoke again, “Well, ah couldn't 'elp but hear the one screamin', seems yer 'avin' a spot o' trouble, maybe ah could take that one offn' yer 'ands ifn the price be right?”

Ranalea looked at Rhynn closely again, and her vapid smile showing just a hint of viciousness as she turned back to Lyle, while Tarquin slowly moved around to be closer to the door trying not to attract attention.

“Well now...that one,” Ranalea sighed, “I don't think he's suitable for anything...can't even get him to take a bath.  He can do that for Xeen’s sake,” rolling her eyes, “I don't know what those collectors were thinking, nabbing slaves near Firesteep and all.”  She shook her head with a small ditzy sigh.

Lyle knew she was acting too, though he persisted, “Ah've a friend says e' can retrain anythin', so long as it breathes.  Ifn yer price be right, ah'm willin' te take a risk....ifn nuthin' else, ah'll 'ave a bit o' fun watchin' my friend do 'is work.”

Her own twisted tastes perhaps threw off her suspicion for a moment at Lyle’s last statement.  She smiled, “Really now...you interest me short one, perhaps we *can* work something out.”

Following the twisted character he now portrayed, Lyle sensed an opportunity for a sickening chuckle and let it loose.  He hated himself for the sickness he was playing out, but he knew he had to in order to save the one whose screaming wails had echoed in the nights of Karthy, and in order to perhaps find his great-grandfather.  After his chuckle ran its course he answered, “Business an' pleasure so often' don' mix miss.”

Behind himself Lyle could hear Tarquin let out a disgusted sigh that had hopefully gone unnoticed by Ranalea or her goons whose attention mow seemed focused on Lyle himself for the moment.

Her smile turned into a grin, and her eyes flashed, “It depends on your business.  But five thousand is the price.”

“An' yer pleasure ah s'pose,” Lyle spoke again with another sickening chuckle.

Ranalea’s eyes cut toward Rhynn one more time, “You have no idea.”

Lyle went back to more business-like tones, “Five thousand?  Well....that seems a bit much....might ah' take a look at the merchandise?”

“Be my guest,” she gestured extravagantly to the door behind her, “This way.”

“After you miss,” Lyle replied.  As he made ready to follow he could see Tarquin looking at Ranalea, his eyes filled with certain anger for her and what she does.

Ranalea caught the look on Tarquin’s face too, and looked at him with a grin saying, “Easy there big boy, you might burst a vein.”

Lyle made an excuse as he shot a rather heated and sharp glance at Tarquin, “O' don' mind 'im...'e's all work'd up 'cause 'e ain' got te kill nuthin t'day.”

With a cold chuckle, Ranalea answered, “That can be arranged you know....”

“O' 'e'll git te slaughter a cow 'r two when we git 'ome.  'e'll be 'appy then,” commented Lyle following his statement with a chuckle of his own.

“Animals *can* be much fun too,” she went on, “They make the most interesting noises.”

Lyle barely caught an, “Ew,” muttered by Rhynn under her breath.  Meanwhile Tarquin stood looking frustrated, though Lyle could tell he was now trying to hide it a bit better.  The small procession entered the tiny room within which an old deranged Halfling lay huddled on the floor.

Retaining his act to the best of his ability Lyle began a slow circle around the Halfling, inspecting him for anything he might be able to use to lower the price.  He noted the Halfling before himself to be very old, covered in dirt and lash marks, with blood caked around his mouth that had resulted from his tearing of his throat-lining while screaming.  The poor soul was withdrawn into himself, gibbering, and rocking slightly back and forth.  Again Lyle barely hears Rhynn as she mutters another explicit comment to herself, and he only unconsciously registers the movement as Elohanna shakes her head upon seeing the condition of the old Halfling.

Ranalea chose then to comment on the old deranged Halfling, “I think he saw something in the temple he didn't like, drove the poor bugger mad.”

Lyle Underroot gave him a gentle kick in the shin with one boot.  Immediately the Halfling jumped back in fear, looking up at Lyle.  Lyle smirked looking back at Ranalea and commenting, “Well, 'e's still responsiv'....that's good.”

Then, after a moment, the old Halfling’s eyes widen in recognition, and he falls at Lyle's feet, crying out his name, almost lovingly.  “Lyle!!! Maaaster....Good Ol' Lyle....”

Lyle hadn’t been expecting the old Halfling to react as though he knew him, for Lyle himself had never to his knowledge set eyes upon this poor creature before.  He knew his surprise would have shown on his face, so now he must play it off properly lest he be discovered.  He acted as though taking another look at the old Halfling and then commented with his own tones fo faked recognition and annoyance, “Hmm....you're the one what ran away from me a couple years ago ain' ye....thought ah recognized that mug...”

Ranalea’s eyes widened for a moment and she spoke, “So...this is your...property?”  She too was now surprised as she paused and then added, “Or was, as the case may be?”

Lyle continued with his gaze set upon the old Halfling, “Indeedy.  Been some years though.  How long ye had 'im?”

“Too long,” breathed the woman slave-trader.  “One of our associates found him huddled outside of the ashen island, bound him up and obviously duped me very well.  I think I'll have a talk with him some day about that...nothing worse then an unreliable collector.”

Lyle gives a slight pause as though considering her words, then nods in agreement.  When he speaks his voice is almost that of one insulted, “Ah don' like payin' fer sumthin' what's mine, but....,” his business tone gradually creeping back in, “Ah realize ye 'ad costs 'andlin' 'im.”

“Well,” begins Ranalea, blowing a wisp of hair out of her eyes, “Since he was yours, and it's not as if we have any use for him here, you can have him for twenty five hundred.  Hopefully you'll have better luck then us.”

Making sure not to let too much of his victorious joy through to his face and voice Lyle agreed without smiling, “Indeedy.   Ah'll give ye 2500 fer yer trouble.  Seems fair 'nuff.”

Ranalea smiled at his agreement, “Good. I'll go get the paperwork.”  She turned then and left the room with a bit of grace, and a smug though slightly annoyed expression.  Her expression changed to a grin as she brushed by Tarquin for just a moment too long.

Turning his comments to the old Halfling at his feet Lyle continued his act, “An' you....well....we're gonna 'ave sum fun when we git 'ome ye bastard.”  A pause filled with a cold chuckle, “O' fun indeedy...”

As Rhynn noticed Ranalea’s grin she looked to Tarquin obviously supressing laughter.  Tarquin shook his head.

Leading the old Halfling slave from the small room the group stepped out into the common room they had first come into.  There Ranalea shortly returned with some papers which she handed to Lyle, as he in turn handed her a pouch holding 2500 Trues.  She was all business as she spoke, “And there you go, one slave, unnamed, for twenty five hundred true.”

Lyle inquired hopefully, and also to continue his act, “Ye got any other's ah might be interst'd in fer a fair price miss?”  He hoped he might free one other soul this day from slavery, if only to help redeem himself for the act he was forced to perform.  Even then his gut churned inside and he felt as though he could vomit at himself, though not a trace of such showed on his face or in his manner.  The act must go on a while longer.

“Well it depends...We have an extremely beautiful elf woman, excellent singer, great in...many other ways as well,” Ranalea advertised with a sadistic glint in her eyes.

“Seems ah might be able te afford double the pleasure....what's the cost?,” inquired Lyle.  Behind himself he sensed Elohanna wincing and biting her tongue.

“I'd hate to give her up for just True though...I would be willing to trade her though, for,” her arm raised to point at and her eyes fell upon Rhynn, “That one.”

Caniel whispered to Lyle, “That sounds fair.”  Though Lyle was sure she meant such as a joke, at least he hoped she did.

Rhynn gave Lyle a look as if to say, “I'll kill you and your little dog too.”  Lyle of course had no intention of agreeing to Ranalea’s price, however, so Rhynn’s look as unwarranted.  Still, he could understand her concern so he chose to ignore it.  Instead he answered the slave-trader with, “Well, ifn she were mine te trade...that'd be temptin'.  Unfortunately, she belongs te my friend.”

Tarquin was unable to keep from responding himself and blurted, “Not going to happen.”

Ranalea went on, “If I'm not mistaken, her and I have unfinished business.”  She turned to Rhynn to ask, “Isn't that right dear?”

Elohanna interjected with some despair, “Leave her alone.”

Resigned to having been recognized Rhynn spoke up for herself, “Well. Now that that's up.  Can get that muggy thing off.”  Then to address Ranalea’s question, “Depends.  Don't give them any trouble and we'll see.”

The slave-trader seemed both angry, and on the verge of glee as she looked steadily at Rhynn and answered, “A deal is a deal, they are free to go with their merchandise,” she paused and began again adding undertones of greater significance for Rhynn’s benefit, “And...a deal is a deal...”

“You heard her. Get out,” Rhynn replied, her voice somewhat steely.

Tarquin didn’t seems to want to budge, “Right after you do my lady.”

On the other hand, Caniel was ready to leave quite readily, “You heard Rhynn, let's go Lyle.  Grab your slave and let's leave these two to talk.”

As he noticed Rhynn roll her eyes, Lyle did as Caniel suggested, if simply to continue his act and ensure that at least some of them would get out to come back to rescue Rhynn later if need be.  He berated the old Halfling as he felt such a despicable person as that he was acting to be would do, “C'mon ye good fer nuthin' sack o' fodder! Ye don' wan' me gettin' mad. ”

He heard Ranalea begin with Rhynn behind himself as he pushed the old Halfling out the door, “Our associates have informed me that your target was sighted in the Point, now how can that be?  You dissapointed me dear...and lied...”  From her voice at the last comment, Lyle almost thought she sounded as though she were pouting.

He decided to turn and look so he could ask, “Ye wan' us te wait fer ye Rhynn?”  He also noticed Elohanna and Tarquin didn’t appear to be moving from Rhynn’s side so he asked them, “Ye othah two comin'?”

“If you want, I don't care,” answered Rhynn.  Then to Ranalea she questioned, “Did you want to discuss now?”

Caniel also attempted to get the others to come along sensibly, “Elohanna, dear.  Tarquin.  Let's move along now.”

Meanwhile Ranalea continued to speak to Rhynn, “Oh, I don't know...I think you have about fifteen minutes to get out of town before Boo comes looking, just to make it fair.”  Again her face was adorned with that ditzy smile she seemed fond of.

Elohanna pulled Tarquin by the arm, “You heard the lady.”  Tarquin however continued not to budge.

Rhynn responded to Ranalea coolly, “Fine.”

With mocking tones of disappointment the slaver tried to provoke Rhynn, “No kiss before you leave?”

Lyle wanted to difuse things and get them moving before whoever the mentioned “Boo” was showed up to do his or her business.  He acted the vile slave-master he’d portrayed himself to be yet again and tipped his hat to Ranalea, “Ye seems a good business woman, ah may be back fer another in a month or so.”

Her attention turned to him for a moment once more, “I certainly hope so.”  She paused for a second, “And bring that one back as well,” she added as she once more pointed to Rhynn.

Lyle grinned back at her for a moment until he noticed Tarquin staring at Ranalea seeming to consider something and he realized whatever it was would not be wise nor do any good.

Rhynn kept Ranalea’s attention, “Didn't you say you wanted me to go?  If you want to talk to me say so.”

Meanwhile Elohanna once more urged Tarquin to leave, “Tarquin lets go.”

Elohanna’s request of Tarquin evidently drew the slave-traders attention to him once more and she sashayed up to him, “Someting on your mind big boy?”

Lyle concluded now was the time to leave, if Tarquin chose to do something rash there wasn’t much he could do about it.  So, he turned and gave the old Halfling a well acted, but gentle shove out the door, following close behind.

He could hear Elohanna answer Ranalea’s question behind himself with, “His ego apparently.”

Lyle wasn’t sure if Tarquin himself had made an answer, but he chanced a glimpse behind himself to see her brushing him gently on the side with the coils of her whip and heard her taunt, “I'd be happy to oblige...”

Rhynn looks to Lyle who paused outside the doorway to look back in, “Look Im really in the ‘lets get out of here before your job costs me my life’ kinda mood.”

Tarquin forced something of a grin onto his face and answered the slave-trader, “If I wanted you to know what I was thinking would I not be talking?”

Rhynn’s shoulders slumped as she turned to address Tarquin, “Tar’ please tell me you're not doing something Hlintitsh.”

Elohanna had enough sense that she had moved to the door herself, and replied to Rhynn a bit exasperated, “No, Tarquinish apparently.”

Meanwhile, Ranalea reached up a fingertip, touching Tarquins face lightly and spoke, “But I want to know...”

A frustrated Rhynn called back, “For the love of the gods, Tar’, back.  Back Tar’.  Good Tar’.”

Lyle too tried to get the stubborn cleric to move, “C'mon now Tar’, ain' got time te play.  We got road ahead o' us.”

Tarquin looked down into Ranaleas eyes with a smile, ”You will find that what you want is not always what you get.”

“O' quit teasin' 'er ye playful devil,” Lyle called again, hoping to get Tarquin out of the trouble he was obviously on course for.

Caniel simply shook her head almost unnoticeably and told Lyle, “I'll be outside.”  She brushed past him into the street throught he open door.

Elohanna covered her face with a hand and mumbles, “Can I just shoot him? It would be quicker and less painful.”

Lyle couldn’t help but smirk at hearing Elohanna’s comment.  He commented in return to her, “Only ifn' ye shoot 'im sumplace won' affect 'is duties.”

At Tarquin’s last comment, Ranalea snaped her fingers, and all eyes turn toward her.  “I suggest leaving...now.  You have 5 minutes left.  And the streets *are* crowded after all.”

“For the love of God people Move,” urged a frustrated Rhynn.  “You know if I was less of a person I'd leave. Get -out-!,” she said as she began pushing people literally towards the door.

Finally turning to leave, Tarquin tells the others, “Just go...”

The door of the headquarters of the Vine closed behind them all as Lyle continued to gently push the old Halfling ahead of himself to keep up the act.  He knew he couldn’t let up until they were all out of town, or the Vine might hear of it and come after them, maybe.

As they make their way through the streets intending to leave the way they came, past Io Lake, the slave seems to become more and more alert and eager to leave himself.  He darts ahead of the group and then makes a U-turn back toward the large plaza of the Xeenite temple.

Lyle calls after him with confusion, “Where you goin?”

Rhynn chimes in, “Wrong..way.

The old, deranged Halfling slave simply shouts back over his shoulder, “Come...come...Maaaaaster Lyle.”

Lyle shrugs as he’s left with no alternative but to chased after the old Halfling who seems now to be in much better shape than he’d appeared in the house of the Vine.  The others follow suit and keep pace with Lyle as they all try to catch up to the old Halfling…

[Nehetsrev]

Chapter Five:  A Grim End


Lyle called out to the old deranged Halfling, “ 'old up!”

The Halfling continued streaking across the town square without hardly a glance back, though he could be heard saying, “Work...master work....must...”

Even Elohanna tried to exercise some verbal influence upon the running slave as she called out harshly running along side Lyle, “Stop!”

Lyle grinned as he chanced a sideways look at her, “Dedicat'd ain' 'e?”  He was huffing a little too heavily from running to spare any breath for a chuckle though.

Frustrated, Elohanna asked him, “Where is he going?”

The scrawny old Halfling finally reached the gates that opened into the swamps near Karthy and he scampered through them quickly.  The others of course followed hot on his heels, trying desperately to catch up to him.

Rhynn could be heard commenting, “This is gonna kill us all.”  After which she began to hum.

A tone of distaste was heard in Caniels voice as she spoke only two words, “The swamps.”

The old Halfling stopped for a moment just outside the Karthy gates, turning to look back at Elohanna for a moment.

As she and the rest caught up to him, she asked between panting breaths, “Are you okay?  Where are you going?”

Lyle also came to a momentary halt beside them and puffed, “Now why you in such a rush te work?”

With an urgent glint to his eyes the Halfling looked between both Lyle and Elohanna and answered only, “Work...  Come...work.”  He then turned and began to run into the swamps ahead of them once more.

“Ifn’…,” Lyle began and then took another few breaths as he watched the Halfling run into the swamp before he could finish.  So, once again took up the chase.  He knew the swamps were filled with Trolls and other nasty things, but he couldn’t let this possible link to his great-grandfather run off to die.

Behind himself Lyle could hear Caniel comment to anyone who would hear her, “I am certainly not going to work.”

Rhynn also took the opportunity to make a wise-crack remark, “Maybe there’s a boy stuck in a burning barn out there?  Or down a well.”

Tarqui9n called ot he Halfling to no avail, “Where are you going?”  His shouts may as well have fallen on deaf ears.

Lyle too tried to hail down the Halfling, “Now 'old up!”

Meanwhile Elohanna pleaded beside him, “Please!”

Suddenly a slew of Trolls leapt forth from their hiding holes, cutting off Lyle and the rest from their pursuit of the old deranged Halfling.  Quickly Lyle drew forth his adamantium dagger, realizing he’d forgotten to restock his supply of crossbow bolts.  At the same instant he began to sing inspiringly to those with him, and a curse down upon the Trolls.  His song and dagger helped him little as the first of the Trolls closed upon him and swung a long and powerful arm.  For a moment there was a ringing in Lyles ears and then he dropped as the world spun and went dark around him.  In his last glimpses of his comrades he saw Elohanna and Tarquin fighting for their lives against the Trolls just as hard as they could, but it wasn’t looking good for them either.

The next thing Lyle saw as he woke from unconsciousness was the very impatient face of the old deranged Halfling peering down at him.  The slave asked with more impatience than concern, “”Master?”

Lyle’s mind spun still from the near concussive blow he’d received, but he had firn enough grasp of his faculties to try and reason with the slave whiel he seemed ot have it’s attention, “Ah don' want ye te go te work jus' yet.  Ah got sum' question's fer ye.”

Reason was not to be had, however, and the slave looked at him with a sigh and spoke, “Master...come work, finish...come.”  Without a another word he streaked off across the swamp.

Lyle stood up quickly, and immediately regretted moving so fast as he was hit with a wave of dizzying nausea.  He called out after the Halfling anyway, “Wait!”

Elohanna also shouted, “Wait!,” but she, just as Lyle, was ignored.

Lyle shook his head with the slightest of movements and muttered to himself, “That ain' good.”

Meanwhile Rhynn returned to their company to begin to say, “I just killed i...,” though her voice cut off as she watched the Halfling run off again.  Evidently she had just finished putting down the last of the group of Trolls.

Caniel was her sarcastic self, “Hm, isn't that lovely?”

The situation was getting both annoying and discouraging for Lyle.  How could such a frail looking old Halfling like that one have such energy and cause so much trouble for them.  He resigned to follow along, but at a slower pace in order to be more ready for another group of Trolls should they appear.

As they made their way through the swamps, Lyle still drenched from falling in the shallow, mucky water, the old deranged Halfling would occasionally stop to sigh and turn to look at them all as if they were simple-minded muttering, “Come,” whenever he did so.

Lyle noted the Halfling was himself bleeding and rushed forward to catch up enough to splash a healing potion upon his wounds.

Caniel commented with obvious ire of her own, “Let it bleed to death.”

Lyle again tried to get some answers from the old Halfling and asked, “Where we goin' te?  An' ain' ah the mastah 'ere?”

The Halfling paused to look at him and pointed to the northwest, in the direction they were heading, “Lyle master… Come.”

Lyle was still panting a bit from the effort of keeping up, “Well, let's go slow-like then.”

For a time the Halfling lead them more slowly, but he became increasingly impatient and upset at the slow pace they were setting.

Lyle muttered to himself as he went, “ 'spose ah deserve this....pushin' ye 'round like ah did.”

Finally the Halfling paused for a moment, looking around with a frown as though searching for something once familiar.

Lyle took the opportunity to try asking again, “Now jus' where 'xactly we goin' little fella?”

The by now standard response was, “Work...come...finish.”

“What work?  Ye know ah get inte quite a bit o' differnet' projects,” inquired Lyle once more while the Halfling continued to look for something.

Rhynn interjected her own answer, “We'll know when we get there.”

Caniel retorted, “Good plan.  You assume we will get there.”
Rhynn’s somewhat callous response in turn was punctuated by a non-committal shug, “I assume I'll get there.”  She paused a moment and amended her statement with another shrug, “Rather, know.  You can assume.”

“Typical,” muttered Caniel with a hint of venom.

The Halfling just hummed out a single, “Hmmm....,” and then he apparently saw what he was looking for and uttered, “Come...”

As Lyle marched off after the Halfling Rhynn went on to say, “I wasn’t hired as a bodyguard you know.”

Now it was Tarquin who commented, “No one is forcing you to come.”

The Halfling meanwhile stopped once more, his frown deepening and his agitation more apparent until he chose a new direction and uttered, “This...Come...”

Caniel continued her own comments in response to Rhynn’s, “Good thing you weren't since you let everyone die once.

“Actually I'm quite bound by contract,” Rhynn stated matter-of-factly to Tarquin, and then answered Caniel, “They let themselves be overcome by being incompetent.”

Caniel in turn replied in icy tones, “Well, how lucky we are to have a competent one along.”

The remark brought out a smile upon Rhynn’s face.  The smile lasted until Lyle called back, “Woa!  More trolls ahead.”

By now the group noticed the Halfling had stopped near what appeared to be some old ruins.  He pointed, almost hopping up and down in excitement.  “Come...here...work...finish!,” his tones of enthusiasm equaling the display in his posturing.

Lyle was more concerned of the Trolls nearby, however, and spoke, “Let's make things safe 'ere first, then ah'll look at it.

There was another small skirmish as Lyle and the others engaged the Trolls.  This time it was the Trolls who were taken by surprise though as tough as Trolls are, it seemed to phase them little.  While the fighting raged the old Halfling began searching through the ruins, looking for something, not a care to what was going on around him until he was caught by the edge of a spell cast by one of the Troll shaman.  He screamed out in pain and huddled in place then, whimpering until the battle was finished.  Finally, sensing the quiet stillness after the last Troll fell the old Halfling peeked out from around a corner.

“Master? Lyle?,” he queried with fear and trembling, unsure of Lyle’s condition.
Lyle replied, “C'mon bakc o'er 'ere and show me agin.”

Caniel added, “Finish your work slave.”  Lyle shot her a glance with minor displeasure that she didn’t’ seem to notice.

With a shaking hand, the old Halfling pointed at a seemingly blank space hidden deep within the ruins.

Lyle couldn’t tell what exactly he was supposed to be seeing and commented, “My eyes mus' be goin' all buggy on me, ah don' see nuthin'.”

Rhynn evidently had noticed what it was the Halfling pointed to and sighed at Lyle’s remark before stating, “There's an opening leading downward.”

Lyle was dumbfounded, “Thar is?”

Rhynn pointed to where the old Halfling had pointed, “Yeah.  Look, it’s right in the middle. I don’t know how you're missing it.”

“Perhaps we should rest before going down?,” asked Elohanna as Lyle took another look and finally noticed the opening.

“Yeah, well, Mr. Troll over there decided to show up and now I’m too grumpy to rest,” stated Rhynn as she indicated a Troll nearby that seemed content for the moment to devour the remains of its fallen friends.

Lyle fairly tuned out Rhynn as she went on stating her displeasure at the presence of the nearby Troll.  His eyes focused on the opening and he looked within noting that it was small, barely larger then elf sized, and that it headed down deeper into the ruins descending slightly.

Rhynn prodded the side of the opening with her sword, apparently for Tarquins benefit so that he would see it as well.

“Master? Finish?,” the old Halfling inquired of Lyle, his eye darting back and forth between Lyle and the opening.

“Well,.little fella, why don' we go down thar then?,” Lyle began, “Indeedy.  Let's go finish.”  He looks to the others and comments on the opening, “Should be big nuff fer an elf by the looks o' it.”  Tarquin, being the biggest among them, might have some difficulty getting through Lyle mused but said nothing.

The old Halfling slave nodded quickly at Lyle's words, “Yessss...come work...finish.”  But just then the nearby Troll decided to try for some fresher meat and wandered over to attack.  The old slave screamed as he scrambled into the opening in the ruins to escape while the others quickly put the troll down.

Moments later Lyle followed the old Halfling into the opening and downward, he himself being followed closely by Elohanna.  As tarquin seemed to be having some difficulty squeezing in at first, as Lyle had thought he might, he called back, “Y'all try an' fit through ifn' ye can, but if not, then guard topside please.”

From up ahead the old slave called back to Lyle impatiently, his voice echoing in the darkness, “Master...come...”

As Lyle focused on the path ahead of him he could hear Tarquin try the tunnel, and with a bit of squeezing and the scraping of the metal on his armor, Tarquin squeezed through the opening a lot easier then he’d expected.  Caniel followed him in and lastly came Rhynn, after pausing a moment to make sure nothing ate or killed those ahead of her first.

Tarquins voice went out to those behind himself, “You should all be able to get through.”

After descending quite a ways further than he’d expected, Lyle sung a song to bend the Weave to give himself some light as the light from behind grew too dim to see by.  The passageway led further and further down, eventually opening up into a cave system.  Although the floors and ceiling looked natural, some of the walls had a finished appearance to them.  At last, he breathed in wonder as he stepped out into a huge chamber and looked about, “Wow!  It's bigger in 'ere than ah 'spected.”

The others soon stepped down into the chamber at his back and even Rhynn sounded surprised as she said, “Whoah...who would've thought this was under Rilara?”

Realizing that the old Halfling wasn’t to be seen Lyle asked with some annoyance, “Now whar'd that little bugger git te?”  He looked around down several branching tunnels for the ex-slave but saw nothing but the glow of his magic light illuminating and reflecting from the walls.

Then, a voice could be heard echoing in the distance, dripping with impatience, “Master....come...finish...work.”

Lyle quickly determined the sound came from the east as his finely tuned bardic ears listened.  He turned to comment to the others before going on to follow the voice, “This way folks.”

“Lyle!!,” called the familiar voice again.

“Yes, that's me,” Lyle grinned in response as he followed it.

“Come...work...,” the voice continued impatiently, “Come, come...hurry...must finish.”

Lyle caught sight for just an instant before the old Halfling darted around another bend ahead of them all.  He could hear Rhynn mutter to herself, “Yer a fast bugger,” just as he himself commented along similar lines saying, “Yer a quick little bugger.”

Finally they caught up to the ex-slave who still seemed to be bent on performing his duties as he stood before a door at the end of a web-lined hall-way.  He boldly opened the door and stepped through.  Though so much webbing made Lyle feel a bit uneasy, he made his way through the door as well.  The others followed not far behind.

The old deranged Halfling once again walked into the darkness with and almost eerie grace.  A scant moment later a blood-curdling scream resonated back toward Lyle and the others.  Lyle froze for a moment in surprise and perhaps fear as well, muttering, “That don' sound so good...”

Caniel uttered, “Lovely.”

While Rhynn stated, “I want a raise.”  Lyle wasn’t sure, but it sounded as though she might have been joking, or maybe not.

The fear in Elohanna’s voice was quite evident as she asked almost in panic, “Where is he leading us?”

Tarquin reacted most quickly of them in taking action, and ran off in the direction fo the scream.

Lyle’s moment of hesitation ended abruptly as he realized Tarquin had run past himself, so he ran after him as well, hoping to get there in time to save both the old Halfling and Tarquin if he needed it.  He could hear Rhynn comment, “And there goes our token Hlintite,” almost snidely behind himself, and would have given her what-for if he weren’t so concerned for those he raced to aid.

“Let's keep 'im alive!,” he shouted back, hoping to spur the others into action as well.

With his yell Rhynn followed, as did Caniel and Elohanna.

As Lyle caught up to Tarquin he stepped into a scene from a nightmare.  Dire-spiderlings poured forth from all about and the poor Halfling lay on the floor covered by many of them.  Tarquin swung his weapon furiously, and spider bits were flung about in a sickly abundance.  Lyle’s used his own dagger to fight off the vermin, stabbing and slashing with it as he began to sing to bend the Weave in favor of he and his fellows.  A moment more and Rhynn joined the fray along with Caniel and Elohanna whose spells burst forth in brilliant displays of magical power.  Before he even knew it, it seemed the fight was won and the last of the spiders lay in a gory, splattered mess.

Clearing the remains of some of the spiderlings from atop the venom-bloated body of the old Halfling, Lyle knelt down to check for any signs of life.  Around him he heard the defeatist comments of Rhynn and Caniel.

“Well.  That takes care of any questions you had,” stated Caniel, “Seeing as it's dead.”

“Yay.  Lovely.  Joyous,” Rhynn went on.

His search for life failed Lyle grumbles in disappointment and a bit of mourning, “Tarnations!  The little fella's bit' it!”  He paused for a moment and continued, “Damnation, damnation!”  His hopes felt nearly crushed now, and he truly felt badly for the old-timer that lay dead before himself.  He began to say a prayer to Prunilla for the poor Halfling’s soul, “Lady Comfort, take in the little fella an' bring peace te 'is soul.”

Elohanna voiced her compassion as Lyle knelt and prayed, “Oh dear no.”

Rhynn rather coldly began to search the body of the fellow, likely in case he carried something the slavers may not have taken from him that might lend a clue.  Lyle sat silent in prayer for the one who’s name was unknown to them that lay dead.

Finally with some frustration Lyle spoke a single word more, “Blast!”

Elohanna’s kind concern still filling her words she asked, “Why did he feel the need to lead us down here?”

Rhynn responded, “Well, we can go see.  Or we can go home.  Lyle?”

Lyle looked around the room more closely for the first time since he’d stepped into it.  The area seemed almost shrine like.  The walls made up of neatly finished masonry, only the rough cave floor gave any indication of it's once natural state.  His eye caught a moment upon something darting back into the shadows, a figure, coming from an unknown direction as if it had been watching him.  Then he felt a peculiar surge in the Weave, as if it was cloaking itself somehow, trying to remain hidden.

He whispered quietly and with a bit of wonder and awe, “Y'all see that?”

Caniel observed of the now deceased Halfling, “He couldn't have done all of this alone.  Search for others.”

Then they all felt it, a very fast, very powerful surge in the weave.  It was as if something wrapped itself up in a great protective ward, trying to remain hidden.

“Sumthin' right strong in magic is 'round 'ere,” Lyle warned the others needlessly, “We best be careful.”  He was terribly uneasy now, and he could sense as much from the others too.  It was evidenced in Rhynn’s sigh, and in Elohanna’s nervous question.

“What is going on here?,” she wondered.

Tarquin spoke up, “I feel it to...”

Rhynn seemed eager to chomp at the bit before them and go after whatever it was, “We may be able to work to unwrap it.  Dispel, counter....  Unless you just want to go on.”

Elohanna voiced what Lyle thought himself, “We came this far, we should be very careful though.”

Rhynn continued, “Too powerful, and that’s about as sure as I've felt of anything in my life.  It shouldn’t be trifled with.”

Lyle gave a slight and slow nod as his eyes searched the darkness.  He felt Rhynn’s suggestion to move on was more sensible than messing with whatever had caused the disturbance in the Weave only moments ago.  “Let's do that Rhynn...ye know more 'bout magic than ah do.”

Lyle felt weakened as they went on, and he glanced down at a nasty spider-bite on his forearm.  He was sluggish and felt he couldn’t keep up as the others pressed ahead further.  He called out, “ 'old up folks.”

The others didn’t seem to hear him over Rhynn’s continued pondering over the warded being they’d felt, “I could focus a disjunction spell into it and maybe penetrate something but its risky and I really don’t want to take that risk. Lets look around first.”

“I agree with Rhynn,” said Tarquin in their own pool of light moving with them ahead.

Finally they had stopped a moment and Lyle began to catch up once more.

“Let's just leave whatever is here alone and it should leave us be,” advised Caniel hopefully.

Rhynn turned to look at him as he stepped up, “That much is up to Lyle.”

He looked back to her and asked, “Ye think we kin look 'round wit'out geting too close te whatevah it is?”

“Don't know...It’s your choice,” she answered.

Caniel sagely requested, “Well, let me know before you fool with it, for I shall wait above ground then.”

“Lyle?,” Rhynn waited on his word.

“Well.....Ah'm almos' positive that little fella 'ad sumthin' te do wit' Ol' Lyle, me great-grandpa,” Lyle paused mid-thought.

Rhynn quickly spoke again, assuming he was finished, “The question is. What are you going to do about it?  I'm with you either way. I'm intrigued now.”

Lyle continued unabashed, “ 'im bein' our only link so far....ah want te look 'round a bit, but ah don' want no one te git kill'd neithah.”

Now Tarquin spoke up again, “Then lets be careful and not do anything Hlint-like.”  The comment sounded odd from him, but was valid none-the-less.

Almost as though taking command Rhynn added, “Alright then. Whoever goes from this point on does so of their own accord.  Sound fair?”

Lyle didn’t let it bother him, much, “Indeedy.”

“Seems fair to me,” answered Tarquin next.

Elohanna affirmed her word, “I made a promise I intend to keep.”

Rhynn defended her own reason to go on, “I’m bound by contract and interest.”  Then she looked back to Caniel to prompt her response, “Well?”

“Well what, child?,” asked Caniel in an almost regal way that only she could manage so well.

Rhynn looked back at her, “Are you coming or would you rather wait up top?”

“I will go onward.  I will leave when you try to unravel the ... whatever here,” Caniel gave her own word.

“I’m not touching that,” came Rhynn’s authoritative answer.

Lyle decided to get things moving once more and warned the others, “ 'an be real sharp-like an' cautios.  No tellin' what might be down 'ere.  An' ah thought ah saw sumthin' move inte the shadows.”

At Lyle’s statement Tarquin began to scan the shadows even more nervously, as though trying to see what it was that had moved in them that Lyle spoke of.

Caniel stopped for a moment near a bag on the floor and looked at it.  Coins were spilling out of the bag in a heap on the floor.  She made an estimate of the value of the heap, “Someone left quite a bit of gold here.  Over 300 coin.”

“A heap o' coin?,” Lyle’s ears perked up.  Something about a heap of coins nagged at the back of his mind suspiciously, but he couldn’t put his finger on just what about that he should put together.  The group moved onward, leaving the heap undisturbed.

Tarquin called out from ahead, “Careful!”  Then numerous spiderlings like those they’d fought earlier began to pour around a corner toward the group.  With more magic, song, slashing and bashing they dispatched of the spiderlings almost with ease.  After which the bitten were tended to in order to reduce the effects of the spider venom.  It was also decided that a period of rest before continuing would be in order, and so shifts were taken for sleeping until at last everyone was ready to go on.

As they moved around the corner that the last batch of spiderlings had come around, Lyle looked carefully at everything around them.  He could see several cracks and splits that revealed the age of the walls.  Flaking paint upon them gave Lyle a strong intuition that this place had once been an ancient dedication to something, though he couldn’t place what in his mind exactly to what it had been dedicated.

He called the attention of the others to his observations, “ 'old up folks!  This place feels like sum temple 'er sumthin'.  Ah jus' can' figure out quite what it's a temple te...”

Rhynn looked to the mason walls for any indications, writings, or carvings, et cetera as to who's temple this place could once have been.  Tarquin also used his cleric’s eye to look around, also trying to spot the general signs of a temple.

“Its amazing how much 'archeology' exists in Layonara....,” Rhynn mused aloud.

“Ye find sumthin' Rhynn?,” asked Lyle curiously.

Rhynn answered thoughtfully, “Still thinking.”

The small party worked their way further through the corridors.  Lyle noticed a couple of the others getting a bit further ahead of the rest, so he called, “Careful now. let's keep slow and careful.”

“This place is very evil,” commented Caniel.  It was a feeling they all shared.  A moment later she spoke again saying, “Sinister even.”

“Indeedy miss Caniel, indeedy,” agreed Lyle.

Rhynn began to comment in her own way as well, “Its not like Xar...  Xar was peaceful...  Even with the traps...  This place is just wrong.  It isn’t like anything I've ever seen before.  Right under Rilara too.”

“Hmmm…,” said Tarquin as he stepped into a shadowy corner.  “Seems to be a place to climb here,” he concluded after a moment.  Though, everyone else had gathered around Elohanna who seemed to be doing something near one of the walls, so Tarquin’s discovery went un-noticed for the moment.

Lyle stepped up beside Elohanna who seemed to be examining a portion of the wall carefully, so he too began to look at it closely.  Elohanna began brushing away some of the dust upon it with her hand.

“There is something here as well…  See! Almost missed it upon first glance!,” she exclaimed with satisfaction at the writing she’d uncovered.

“Mayhaps sum light'll 'elp a bit?,” offered Lyle.  He sung once more to bend the Weave to create a source of light.  Then he went back to his own examination of the wall, trying to puzzle out anything he might.  The writing Elohanna pointed to was in a language that Lyle couldn’t understand, but somehow deep I his blood it seemed to call to him.

Lyle was dimly aware that Tarquin hadn’t gathered with the rest to look at the writing on the wall, so he asked after him, “Huh?  Where'd that cleric fella go?”  The thought wasn’t on his mind long before the calling of that strange writing etched into the wall called his attention back to itself once more and he pondered aloud, “Ah don' ken what it says, but it seems.....almos' familiar sumhow.”

Rhynn approached more close, and tilted her head to the side for a closer look.  “It’s a different language?,” she asked curiously.  Puzzled she added, “Hrm...  Well if you can’t read it, it can’t be Common or Halfling.  Elohanna, is it Elven?”

Lyle scratched his chin, staring perplexed at the wall and the writing upon it, “Indeedy, one ah don' recognize....don' e'en think ah've seen it's like afore, yet....it jus' seems.....ah dun ken 'ow te 'xplain it.  Like it's sumthin ah should ken or sumthin.”

Elohanna’ face remained just as puzzled as the rest of their faces, “No it’s not Elven... that’s for sure.”

Just then Tarquin’s voice could be hear to the group’s left, from the direction of the darkened corner he’d stepped into.  He sounded as though he were shouting, but further distant than the corner of the room would have allowed, “Seems to be a place to climb over here... though there is some kind of combination lock too.”

Rhynn answered back, projecting her own voice a bit as she questioned the cleric, “Climb?”

“Over here,” came Tarquin’s somewhat muffled response, as though from beyond the wall.

Turning to investigate what Tarquin had found, or even where he’d gone, Lyle hummed to himself, “Hmm...”

He and the others stepped into the corner looking more closely in the light they brought with them, and indeed there seemed to be a way to climb up, and over the wall there.  After some scurrying over the wall using the hand and footholds built into it, they all stood with Tarquin on the other side.  He pointed out to them the objects he described as possibly being a combination lock of sorts for a huge metal gate that stood locked just beyond.

Rhynn had lingered one moment longer at the wall with the writing and when she joined them she commented to Lyle, “That language back there looks like -nothing- I’ve ever seen.”  Then she noticed the locked gate, “Three mages...anyone with a pixie?”

Lyle observed the objects Tarquin indicated, making a mental inventory of them as he did.  There was the heavily barred and locked door.  Beside it lay a case with 28 stones, and 4 empty bowls lay before it.  There were also words in Common inscribed upon the door that read, “Four held close, as close as friends may lie.  Fifteen pushed away, as far as they will go.  In between the remaining lie in sequence to bring order to the chaos.”  Lastly, below the words was a lithograph of a great and powerful lizard, emblazened with red and gold.  He gave extra care looking at the lithograph, hoping something about the image might spark a memory of something learned in his travels, or something.  Nothing came to mind, however, and he absently plucked a stone form the case and began turning it about in his palm.

“Four held close and friends may lie...,” he heard Elohanna mutter as she stepped closer to examine the puzzle.

Meanwhile Tarquin also tallied a count of things aloud, “28 stones.... 4 bowls.... 4 close.... 15 as far away... that leaves.... 7.... in the middle is sequence...”

Caniel was quick to correct him, “Check you math, dear.  That leaves 9 not 7.”

Tarquin smirked, “Thats what I said...”

“Right,” droned Caniel.

“4... and 5...,” Tarquin tried to go on to convince Caniel he hadn’t erred.

Thinking to himself as Tarquin and Caniel had their discussion of numbers, Lyle chanced a glance at the stone in his palm and saw upon it an icon that resembled a bunch of grapes.  “Hmm...grapes on this one,” he muttered, thinking he had an idea of what the icon was.  He picked up several more stones and began looking for symbols upon them as well.  He drew out one with an ankh, another with a large black spider.  He was sure of his hunch and proclaimed, “An ankh, a large black spider.....these are symbols of deities!”

“4.. 5... 4... 15.... hmmm...,” Tarquin was going on with his number and stopped at Lyle’s words.  He looked again at the lithograph for a moment then uttered, “The dragon reminds me of something.... we should be careful here.”

Rhynn had heard Lyle’s proclamation and made an inquisitive sound, “Oh....Hmm.”

Lyle began sorting through all the stones as he explained to her further, “Grapes are Xeen, ankh is Toran etc.”  Overhearing Tarquin Lyle stopped a moment and looked again at the lithgraph himself and guessed, “So...wait Ah think ah ken this lithograph.  It's a red lizzard, right?  Pyrtechon?”

Rhynn countered, “But theres gold in it too.  Rofirein.”  Lyle knew her statement would have been logical, if there weren’t such a feeling of evil in this place, so he dismissed it in favor of his gut instinct.

Tarquin went on to warn, “It is an ancient enemy of Aeridin, brining death and destruction...”

Lyle recalled from his learning that only four deities had ever allied themselves with Pyrtechon, and he thought that fit rather well with the wording on the door that formed the puzzle.  He spoke, “Only four gods evah allied wit' Pyrtechon, those will be the 'friends'.  Now let's see....which ones are which...”

“15 as far away would be the enemies...,” Tarquin interjected brightly, “the gods as oppisite from him as possible.”

Rhynn shrugged and agreed, realizing Lyle was correct, “You’re right.  It’ss the Gods related to Pyrtechon.  Himself and three others, fifteen are against him, and the rest in the middle.  If the remaining nine are in sequence how do we know what goes where in the two remaining bowls?”

Tarquin spoke up positively once more, “Corath, Ca'Duz, and Grand were all against him.”

This time Rhynn corrected his mistake, “No, They're with him.  Corath, Ca Duz, and Grand are with him....”

Tarquin acquiesced to Rhynn’s correction of his statement humbly, “Yes sorry.”

Elohanna simply listened, the look on her face one of frustration, until at last she spoke her disliking, “I really hate puzzles... usually an indication you should leave well enough alone.”

Rhynn was caught a little by surprise at Elohanna’s outburst, “Are you a sorcerer Elohanna?”

“A wizard,” Elohanna answered.

“Wow...  First wizard I’ve ever met who doesn’t like a good riddle,” remarked Rhynn.

Elohanna laughed, “I am different in a lot of ways.”

Rhynn then went back to her deductions, “Logically: Rofirein, Toran, Aeridin, Lucinda, the three nature gods (Katia Kithairien and Folian) , Az'atta and Dorand would be against.  They all go against his dogma.”

Tarquin noted as Rhynn took a breath, “That’s nine.”

“Beryl...Grannoch...,” Rhynn went on some more, then asked, “Did I say Prunilla?”  She pulled out her notebook and began writing a list.

Elohanna offered another idea, “Perhaps we are missing something... maybe the wall would tell us more, a clue maybe?”

Lyle let them discuss as he pulled into his own mind and made the lists from his own knowledge.  He knew which symbols stood for which gods, and which fell into categories of friend or foe of Pyrtechon according to his knowledge of the pantheon.  He was trying to puzzle out the order that those in-between would fall into the bowls, but his mind had trouble discerning the proper numbers to go into each.

“Vorax, Prunilla, Deliar,” Tarquin went on.

“Alright. Let me remake the list,” Rhynn said as she looked down to write in her notes.  “Rofirein, Vorax, Deliar, Prunilla, Lucinda, Katia, Folian, Kithairien, Toran, Dorand, Beryl, Grannoch , Xeen?, Aeridin, Az'atta!  That’s fifteen against.  Shield, Axe, Lightning Bolt, ...Uh...Damnit.  What about unfriendly?”

Lyle Underroot:   Right, so we jus need te put the allied gods stones inte the closest bowl, the enemies inte the farthest bowl, an' then the friendlies inte the next closest bowl and aragen, who's neutral inte the third closest bowl.

Caniel stepped next to Lyle, reading his face, “You certainly know what go in the bowls on the end, how do you feel about the center bowls, Lyle?”

“Ah'm thinkin' Mist, Branderback, Shadon, an' Vierdri'ira go inte the second bowl.  An' Aragen goes inte the third,” Lyle began to answer her, but he knew for some reason that his reasoning was off just a bit.

“Put friendly in one and unfriendly in the other.  Then just move the neutral stone until the door opens,” suggested Caniel.

“Perhaps he has no nuetral.... he might be either you love him or hate him...,” came Tarquin’s own suggestion.  After another second of thought he also added, “You know if we get it wrong it might be a trap.... I will be the one to place the last stone...”

Rhynn asserted, “The unfriendly are Ilsare, Sultario, Goran, and Shindaleria.

The line replayed in Lyle’s head, “In the middle they lie in sequence, to bring order to the chaos.”  He pondered it for a moment and then said, “Hmm....wait!  In the middle they go in sequence...order te chaos.  Which gods are more orderly?  An' which are more chaotic?  Mist is definitely chaotic as they come, ain' she?”

“What sequence though...,” asked Tarquin tiredly.

“It could also mean in a line from Friendly to unfriendly,” Rhynn said before going on to say with some frustration, “Ilsare is chaotic, Aragen is Neutral.  I just don’t see how you can line something up in a bowl.  :   I have an idea, let’s just kick it.”

“Or not...,” answered Tarquin, “That sounds like something as stupid as I have been...”

Rhynn grinned at him, “I was mimicking.”

The comment brought out a bit of laughter form Elohanna who had just returned with Caniel from taking another look at the wall with the strange language written upon it.

Tarquin took the joke with good humor, smiling himself, “I see, well you do a decent enough job.”

Meanwhile the thoughts churned in Lyle’s head.  He pondered, “What if the nature of the gods didn't matter as much as the amount of stones in each bowl?” ...In fact, looking over the lock, door and other assorted mechanisms he did feel it to be a combination lock as much as a puzzle  and Tarquin almost had it right...just one thing out of order...

“Hmmm... Maybe the nature o’ the gods ain' what matters as much as 'ow many go in each bowl.  Ah think Tarquin were onte sumthin'...,” he reasoned aloud.

“If there’s a red dragon picture on there we are in a temple of Pyrtechon.  You can’t split nine into two,” stated Rhynn.

Sounding a bit bored Caniel addressed Tarquin, “Tarquin, this has taken long enough.  Break down the door using your strength.”

Elohanna was quick to nay-say her idea, “Probably not a good idea Caniel... we could bring this whole thing down on us.”

“Then so be it,” came Caniels response.

Tarquin looked at the heavy metal gate almost as if he were actually considering doing as Caniel suggested when at last he answered, “I think you over estimate me..”

For a minute or two longer, the chamber was silent as each member thought further about the puzzle, and then it was Tarquin who broke the silence, “Four, four, five, fifteen.  That keeps it in a sequence of lowest to greatest.”

Rhynn grumbled and hit herself on the head, “I hate math!”

But Lyle almost instantly realized Tarquin had it right.  “That's it!,” he shouted, “Let's try it!”

Caniel murmured, “Get ready to break down the door if this doesn't work Tarquin.”

With some disgust Rhynn commented again, “You know what, I’m never playing with numbers again.”

Elohanna laughed at Rhynn, “I thought I was the one who disliked riddles?”

Lyle and tarquin began to sort through the stones, placing them into the bowls they had reasoned out were correct.  Lyle first sorted out Pyrtechon and the stones of his allies, placing them into the bowl closest to the door.  The bowl sank down slightly, and everyone could hear the clunk of a lock tumbler falling.  Next he took the stones for Brandeback, Mist, Shadon, and Vierdri'ira and placed them into the second bowl.  That one as well sank down, and another loud clunk resonated in the darkness.  Then Lyle placed the stones for Aragen, Goran, Ilsare, Shindalaria, and Sulterio in the third bowl.  There was another loud clank and the door shuddered on its hinges, opening just slightly.  Finally Lyle placed the remaining stones for Pyrtechon’s many enemies into the fourth bowl, all except Aeridan’s stone which Tarquin held onto himself, waiting for Lyle to finish with the others.  “Put that in the last bowl Tarquin,” Lyle directed.  Tarquin waited a moment more to be sure everyone had taken a step back before placing Aeridan’s stone into the fourth bowl…  The door fells unlocked, and opened slowly, swinging with a rusty creek on it's hinges.

Lyle smiled, “That did it.”  Acting more quickly than the others he boldly stepped through the open gate and into the chamber beyond, until he heard Elohanna call after him.

“Careful,” she advised wisely, “Lest we run into a dragon’s lair.”

Lyle stopped in his tracks.  A thought crossed his mind, “Hmm…  Ah jus' thought o' sumthin'....what could my great grandpa 'ave te do wit' Pyrtechon?”

He looked around surveying the chamber he’d walked into beyond the gate.  The chamber looked as if it were some archeological dig site.  Two large statues encompassed the center of the room.  Each bore a depiction of a flaming house upon the shields they held.

“Goodness,” breathed Elohanna as she too took it all in.

Rhynn confirmed the certainty that they all knew, “We're in a Pyrotechon temple...”  She sighed after the comment, leaving a foreboding feeling in the back of Lyle’s head.

Still, Lyle took another step forward to take a closer look, his foot came to fall upon something that made a dry and brittle snapping sound.

As Lyle began to look down at his foot to see what he’d stepped upon, Rhynn spoke again, “What does this have to do with your great grandfather I wonder.”

Tarquin remarked his own observation, “This seems more like a shrine... not a temple...  Also I can't seem to feel the presence of Pyrechon...”

“Indeedy.....what?,” answered Lyle to Rhynn’s question.

“Pyrotechonite Halflings...Lovely,” joked Rhynn with sarcasm.

Lyles eyes continued to stare down, transfixed upon the yellowish white of bone underfoot, the remains of a skeleton.  “Poor soul...,” he muttered as he kicked the pile of bone lightly with a toe.  Going on in the conversation with Rhynn about his great-grandpa he said, “Well, it would 'xplain why 'e were run off afore 'e could marry great-grandma Jillian.”

As the dust settled after the light kick Lyle gave the skeleton, his eyes noticed something small and square-looking underneath.  He bent down to pick up the object with realization as his fingers touched upon it, “Hmm...what's this?,” the thing was quite obviously a book of some kind.  “A book,” he added.

Perhaps from breathing in a small quantity of the dust that Lyle had stirred up, Rhynn coughed.  Lyle ignored the cough and gently brought the book to his eye-level to open it and begin reading.

Rhynn gestured to the book with her sword, “A book. Most lovely.”

Opening it's dry and brittle pages, Lyle noticed that some was written in Halfling, some in Common, and something else toward the rear that resembled the language scribed on the wall behind the gate.  He noticed further that the book appeared to be a diary of some kind.

He commented for the benefit of the others before beginning to read in detail, “Seems like a diary...but in three languages, Common, Halfling, and that other odd language from the wall.”  He reasoned further as he read to himself, “This bein' a temple o' Pyrtechon, I' bet it's Draconic...”

Tarquin listened, “Interesting...”

Rhynn affirmed Lyle’s assumption, “I may not be able to put numbers together, but I can add logically.  It’s Draconic.”

“Indeedy,” spoke Lyle as he began to become absorbed in the text.  Reading the first few pages, it seemed to detail the life and times of Ol' Lyle, his great-grandfather.

Tarquin offered a suggestion, “With a bit of work it might be possible to translate what’s on the wall using the diary as reference.”

Lyle ignored him as he read, just as he ignored Rhynn’s next question of, “Is it your great grand-dads handwriting?”

Elohanna pointed out another observation as Lyle went on reading silently and rapt, “Could be what made those claw marks above.”  Rhynn cringed at the thought provoked by Elohanna’s words.

Lyle read things that caused his expression to change to one of shock, and finally he gently closed the book and tucked it away into his breast-pocket.  He looked up with a glint in his eyes that spoke of his terrible findings.

Rhynn noticed his expression, as did Tarquin, and they both asked, “What?”

“We best be getiin' now...,” said Lyle, his face noticeably gone pale since reading the book.  His eyes begin to glance around nervously scanning the darkness.

“What did it say?,” Rhynn persists.

Another surge in the Weave became much stronger for a moment and then was gone, felt once again by Lyle and the others.  Lyle felt that whatever had been watching them earlier was now gone.  At feeling the surge again, Elohanna placed a hand on Lyle’s shoulder nervously.

Lyle finally looked Rhynn in the eye to answer her, “It's a bit personal miss Rhynn.”

“Great,” she muttered, “I come tromping into a temple, shrine, whatever to Pyrtechon and its a bit personal.”

Lyle dismissed her, “Let's git afore sumthin' finds us what we don' want te be foun' by.”

Caniel backed Lyle up, “You heard him, hired help…  Let's go Lyle.”

Lyle seemed to sense Rhynn was not about to give up her curiosity and added a final statement in form of question, “Can we leave it at that ah'm not so sure ah wan' te find Ol' Lyle anymore?”

“Oh, Lovely, a Great Grandad Pyrotechonist who could write Dragon...,” Rhynn griped.

Lyle made it quite obvious he was going to ignore that comment.

“Lyle?,” Elohanna began questioningly, but sounding supportive.

“Yes?,” he said turning to look at her.

“Perhaps there is more to this than just the obvious?,” her question echoed off the walls as they made their way out.

Nothing further was spoken, no answers given.  Perhaps they all knew what Lyle had found, or at least thought they did.  Lyle didn’t care what they thought they might know of what he found.  He knew the truth, and it was something he now wished he hadn’t come to know.

His great-grandfather was no Halfling, but a Dragon in disguise as one.  Ol’ Lyle was a Dragon who delighted in a perverse game throughout ages.  It was a game that cost his great-grandmother her life, and perhaps countless other Halfling women their lives as well.  He’d read enough in his great-grandfather’s own hand-writing, describing how he’d devoured Jillian on the road between Haven and Hlint where he’d lured her.  It described Ol’ Lyle’s disappointment that he hadn’t been given the opportunity to devour her child, Lyle’s own grandfather.  He knew now why the writing on the walls seemed to call to him, why the Draconic text sang to the blood in his veins even though he couldn’t read it.

He dared not tell any of the others what he now knew of his heritage.  What would they think of him if they knew?  What would his beloved Lillian think if she found out?  She couldn’t even bear to keep her own half-Drow child, how could she remain in love with a descendent of a Dragon?

Something more nagged at his mind.  The old deranged Halfling slave had brought them there to finish some sort of work.  The last chamber had looked as though it were in the middle of being dug up.  There was something more there, perhaps, but what Lyle couldn’t fathom.  He decided he would need to find out, and the only key he had was likely locked away in the Draconic text within the small book now carried in his breast-pocket.

Yet, he resolved to solve this mystery he would have to learn the language of the ancient Dragons, somehow.  He resolved also that he would somehow avenge the atrocities done his great-grandmother Jillian, and those others whose grim demise were detailed within the diary of Ol’ Lyle.  There was one being who seemed to know a great deal more than most Lyle knew, perhaps he would be able to help Lyle.  At the very least, it would be a place to start.

[Nehetsrev]

Jenra 25, 1410

It's been sum time since ah found my great-grandfathah's journal in that temple te the big red.  Ah want'd te learn the Draconic language myself so ah wouldn't 'ave te divulge jus' what were in the diary te any othah person.  Unfortunately, ah'm 'avin' no luck findin' anyone what kin' teach me so far.  First person ah approach'd, an' in confidence ah might add, were that senile ol' coot Ozymandius.  That thick-'eaded fool end'd our talk by shoutin' at the top o' 'is lungs in the middle o' the Wild Surge that ah was sum' kind o' follower o' Fisterion!  Needless te say, it were a might uncomfortable te 'ave all those eyes o' strangers an' whatnot lookin' at me as ifn they were goin' te drag me out o' town an' 'ang me right then an' thar.  Fortunately, none seem'd quite willin' te act on those actions, but ah'll 'ave nuthin' te do wit' that senile ol' coot no more.  Couple days later Miss Rhynn e'en approach'd me 'bout my askin' ol' Ozy' 'bout findin' a teacher o' Draconic, an' when ah ask'd 'er 'ow she knew o' that, she sadi she'd o'er'eard the ol' coot talkin' te 'imself 'bout it in his 'ome.  Cover'd for 'im sayin' 'e 'adn't known she were thar at the time, but ah doubt that 'e didn't.

Anyhow, next person ah approach'd were Miss Creekskipper.  Ah figur'd bein' a follow'r wit' sum' standin' in the church o' Rofirein she might be able te talk te sum' o the elders on my behalf an' ask ifn they could teach me the language o' the dragons.  She want'd te ken why ah want'd te learn an' ah said ah want'd te use the knowledge once ah 'ad it, te 'elp fight the evil dragons, an' answer that's both true, an' seem'd valid 'nuff te 'er tha she said she'd ask.  Though, ah ain' 'eard nuthin' back from 'er yet, so ah'm guessin' it ain' goin' te 'appen.

So, ifn ah'm te learn what's written in Draconic in "Ol' Lyle's" journal, ah'm eithah goin' te 'ave te find sumone ah think ah kin trust te 'ave it translat'd, or ah'm goin' te 'ave te seek out my very enemies an' trick 'em inte teachin' me sumhow.  Afore ah try eithah o' those ideas though, ah'm goin' te ask Miss Creekskipper a few more times ifn she's got word back on my request yet.  Ah've got te learn what's in this book, ah feel it's important.  Thar were sumthin' being dug up in that temple by "Ol' Lyle" an' ah intend te see what 'is journal 'as te say 'bout it, no mattah 'ow ah 'ave te do it.

Funny thang is, the more ah read o' the parts in Common an' Halflin', it seems that ah iden'ify more wit' great-grandpa in sum way.  Ah don' like it a'tall, it feels like an icky bit o' scum in my 'ead that ah can't wash away.  Still, sum' o' the thangs 'e did are jus' so terrible ah nearly vommit as ah read o' 'em, while othah thangs ah read 'bout make 'im seem a decent sort at times.  'Course it only seems that way, 'cause when it all comes down e' nevah did nuthin' good unless'n thar were sumthin' 'e stood te gain from it in sum way, shape, or form.

In brighter news te write 'bout, Lillian finally ask'd me te marry 'er!  Now ah couldn't be much 'appier than ah am now, 'cept maybe once the whole weddin' is done an' we're tegeth'r as a couple.  O' course e'en such 'appy news comes wit' a price, Lilly's ask'd me te make all the weddin' arrangements, an' as ah've told a few folks lately, me an' Plannin' don' get on so well t'gether.  So, ah've post'd a request in the temple o' Prunilla askin' fer the aid o' one o' the Lucky Clovers in plannin' an' administerin' fer the event.  Got a reply by one Miss Cloverseed sayin' she'd 'elp, but ain' 'eard nuthin' furth'r from 'er.  Maybe she's waitin' fer me te post more details as ah 'ad scant few te share wit' 'er in my initial note.  Affer talkin' more wit' Lilly, seems we may use the courthouse in Hlint fer the ceremony, an' she might invite a few o' 'er family an' clan te come witness it, though she din't give a number o' 'ow many.  Ah figure ah kin invite my folks, an' my siblin's, especially my sistah Marianna since she's always askin' me ifn ah'll evah settle down.  Funny thang 'bout Marianna though is that fer all 'er askin' ifn ah'll settle down, she shows no signs o' wantin' family 'erself an' seems content te live thar in that big 'ouse in Prantz wit' that Miss E'Zoenna an' 'er son an' moth'r-in-law.  Ah digress though, so te git back on track, ah think aside from family ah'll avoid invitin' more 'an a couple friends.  Ah jok'd te Lilly ah might invite that Daralith fella jus' te rub it in 'is face that Lilly an' ah were gittin' married.  Lilly jok'd that she might ask 'im te be one o' the minist'rs...  At least ah'm 'opin' it were a joke.  She been bendin' 'er ear te a lot o' the thangs that black-skin's been preachin' te 'er, an' talks 'bout followin' Baraeon Ca'Duz instead o' Deliar, like she's actually considerin' changin' 'er faith.  Ah love 'er 'nuff though that ah think ah kin talk 'er out o' it once we're married ifn ah kin keep 'er away from that fella long 'nuff te undue the damaged 'e's been doin' te 'er.  Lookit that, ah've digress'd agin...

Well, ah've writt'n 'nuff now anyway so ah guess ah'll finish this sentance, clean my quill, an' put way my ink an' journal fer anuth'r day.

[Nehetsrev]

Mar 15, 1411

Tarnations!  Ah kin scarce b'lieve it's been ovah a year since ah've written in my own journal.  But, it seems it 'as been, so not to do but to write anyhow.

Ah've made a deal wit' Miss Rhynn te teach 'er the Halflin' tongue in exchange fer certain information.  'opefully the information she gave me turns out te be usefull te me.  Ah've also tol' 'er what's in the book ah took from that ruin o' a temple te Big Red.  So, she kens my 'eritage now.  Funny 'ow ah kin tell 'er, but ah can't bring myself te tell Lillian.

An' thar's anuthah problem...  It's been ovah a year since Lillian ask'd me te marry 'er, an' since then ah've scarce seen 'er.  Not that it would mattah much seein' as the Lucky Clover's o' Prunilla seem te be ignorin' my requests fer 'elp wit' the weddin'.  Ah'm startin' te doubt agin ifn Lilly an' ah will evah git married, or e'en ifn we ought te.  Maybe ah should tell 'er my secret an' see 'ow she reacts te it...  Ifn she leaves me then ah'll be free te go on, e'en as much as my 'eart will still break...

Ah fear she puts too much stock in what that bloody Drow fills 'er 'ead wit'.  She ain' been the same since she came out o' the underdark, but she's been gitten e'en darker in ways evah since.  Ah think she tries te 'ide it a bit 'round me, but she's not too good at it.  Odd thang is, e'en wit' the way she's gotten all dark an' all...ah still love 'er.

Ah really would like te marry 'er, ah think...  which brings things back te the church.  Ah don' unnerstand why ah can't git no one te 'elp wit' the weddin'.  Ah mean sure, that Miss Cloverseed dun said she would, but then ah ain' nevah 'eard nuthin' more from 'er.  Maybe Prunilla's withdrawn 'er blessin's from me?  Could that be why she sends Lump instead o' Spud these days?  Ah mean, ah used te warrant a scarecrow, one o' Prunilla's symbols, an' now ah git a walkin' mound o' compost when ah sing my summonin' song.  Only thang ah kin think o' that might'a upset my Lady Comfort that ah've done was te step foot inte that ruin'd temple o' Big Red...  But surely, ah was thar te find more 'bout my great-grandpa, te strengthen my ken o' my kin...Prunilla's always champion'd family, ain' she?  Ah remembah that day she sent one o' 'er servents te raise me from the dead in that swamp on Dregar affer them snakes kill'd me...ah felt so 'onor'd by 'er, so comfort'd...an' now ah'm wonderin...

Ah guess ah'll jus' keep on keepin' on an' see whar life takes me.  Ifn ah've lost Prunilla's favor then so be it ah 'spose.  Ah kin marry Lillian wit' or wit'out Prunilla ifn it comes te it.

[Nehetsrev]

Junar 11, 1411

Well now,  life's goin' on, that's fer certain.  Ah hit the ol' Lellion Arms durin' it's opening hours the othah night.  Got te talk te Freldoo fer a bit, but not much meanin'ful were said 'tween us.  Was goin' te 'ave my cards read by Miss Kali, but by the time she got done wit' the fella afore me she came out lookin' right tired, so ah gave up my turn te Miss Elo'anna who got the last readin' o' the night.  Thar'll be othah nights wit' readin's ah'm sure, so ah'm not too worried ovah missin' this one.  Them thangs ain' always verah accurate or nuthin' anyhow from what ah've 'eard.  Come te think o' it, ah'm not too sure ah want my future revealed anyhow...  not wit' what ah now ken 'bout Ol' Lyle, my great grandpa, like it or not.

Anyhow, affer Miss Kali finish'd wit' Miss Elo'anna's readin' she came out fer a bit an' ah got the opportunity te play a song sit' 'er.  While the tune is one fairly familiar, ah felt the music in my 'eart leadin' me te improvise a bit.  Kali's a right fine player an' singer in 'er own right, an' it turn'd out te be a right fine pleasuh te play wit' 'er, e'en though most folks 'ad already left afore our little numbah.

Ah've got te git a 'andle on thangs though...  Lately my thought's've been so taint'd wit' the darkness o' my family secret, an' wit' my dissappointment wit' the clergy o' Prunilla, that ah've lost a bit o' the true glee fer livin' ah used te 'ave.  Oddly though, ah think this time o' doubt an' uncertainty 'as 'elped improve my playin' sum.  Guess one 'as te be deeply intuned wit' one's feelin's both good an' bad te truly play the Great 'armony.  Let me write that anuthah way:  Ye gotta acknowledge the darkness, confess it's thar an' that it's a part o' ye, but not let it rule ye.  'Cause that's what the darkness'll do ifn ye don' stop it, it'll rule ye an' ye'll be it's slave.  Woe te the poor souls that're willin' te be dominat'd in such a way by darkness, or who've lied te themselves te the point they're convinced their the one's rulin' o'er the darkness.  One thang Prunilla kin teach us 'bout darkness is that almost no proper plant kin grow in it.  We need the light, the good, te truly prosper.  Wit'out the light our world's in a state o' dying.  Anuthah piece o' that puzzle though is that almost everah seed sprouts in the darkness, cover'd in it an' only jus' slightly warm'd by the lights pow'r seepin' inte the soil...  that's when the root's o' e'en the mighty oaks take root fer the first time an' strive te push upward te embrace the light wit' their first leaf.  Ah guess Lump ain' a sign o' dis-favor affer all, 'e's a sign ah'm goin' te sprout an' b'come like one o' those mighty oaks.  Ye see, Lump's a walkin' mound o' compost, an' any farmer kin tell ye, while the seeds're down in the darkness, ifn they 'ave a 'eap o' compost, things left te rot in the darkness, them roots'll take 'old an' borrow from the compost te fuel their growth an' give 'em the strength te break soil an' touch the light above.  So now as ah've puzzled it out, ah'm thankful fer Lump, an' fer Prunilla's touch o' enlightenment an' wisdom in my life.

[Nehetsrev]

Decisions of Heart & Shadow, Part I  Oclar 16, 1411 - Hlint, near the north gate  The early morning hours had just begun to near a close.  The sun having risen, though remaining blocked by layers of dark clouds, managed to push through enough light to make seeing manageable to most eyes.  In the dimlit townscape buildings and wagons and people remained but shadows of the brighter days they had once enjoyed some years ago.  The images held by Lyle's eyes were held crisper by the chill in the air, despite the grey that lay over everything.  Sometimes it snowed in Hlint these days, and others the fine dust and ash that slowly drifted down to settle much like snow was mearly a perverted imitation, sooty and near-black.
  Lyle walked into town through the north gate, pausing a moment to take in a breath and send thankful feelings as reinforcements to the smile he tried to keep on his face for those he would meet in these darkened lands.  Trying to be a little reflection of his goddess, Prunilla, Lady of the Harvest, but most of all to Lyle, Lady Comfort.  He felt as always that his smile was important, a light as from the sun in the lives of people struggling since Bloodstones fall and the beginning of the clouds of endless ash that now covered the world.  One day the ash might finally settle and his smile wouldn't be so needed, but until then he would wear it as best as he could, firing it from the embers of compassion deep down in his heart.
  As he continued into town past the temple to Ilsare a messenger falcon dropped down from the sky bearing a parchment for him.  Magicly guided to their intended recipients, such birds had served as the basis of the postal service in Layonara for years upon years.  As the bird flew off, Lyle stooped to pick up the rolled parchment left behind.  He recognized the banner of the title page of the Dragon's Whisper as he unrolled it in his Halfling hands.  This also helped reinforce that perpetual grin on his face.  The news born by the Dragon's Whisper, while not always good news, was always welcome news to Lyle.  He'd even had some of his own creative writings in print within the pages of previous volumes, with hopes they'd lighten the hearts and bring hope to the many who might chance to read Mr. Bumblebee's publication.
  "Lyle!," a somewhat familiar feminine voice called in joyful tones from down the road a ways.  Following the voice from down the road came a slender Elven maiden whom Lyle recognized as Elohanna.
  "Hello hello," he announced his friendly reply to greet her as he tipped his hat politely.
  Elohanna smiled at him as she approached and spoke again, "Are you a sight or what! I am so happy to see you!"
  Lyle was curious about why he received such an enthusiastic greeting from the Elf.  Though he had counted her a dependable friend for some time, she didn't always seem quite so happy to see him.  "Are ye now?," he questioned her, "Well that's a right fine welcome."  His grin couldn't help but broaden at such attention as he was greeted with.
  Elohanna's tone quickly changed to one a bit more subdued, "Oh you may not think so when you find out why.  May we go someplace quite to talk, if you are not busy?"
  With such a change in tone Lyle couldn't help but be even more curious.  He thought a moment and decided with a shrug he had no real urgeant business to attend to in the town before he answered, "Well, ah 'spose."  Quickly thinking of a number of more secluded spots to speak in confidence, Lyle decided the upper floor of Moraken's tower just north of town would be closest and serve well enough, so he voiced his thought to her, " 'ow 'bout upstairs in the towah?"  He jerked his head slightly over his shoulder to indicate the tower that stood amidst the trees outside the north wall behind himself.
  "Thank you," answered Elohanna, a delightful smile gracing her face immediately with Lyle's agreement to speak with her in private.  So full of glee evidently, Lyle even heard a giggle escape her lips, and in those dark days it was a sound like the chimes of angels.
  A few moments later the two arrived inside Moraken's Tower on the upper floor.  Lyle's curiosity could be held at bay no longer and the large upper floor seemed completely vacant so he turned to her.  "This 'ere ought te be right fine an' quiet 'nuff fer most anythin'.  So what bee's in yer bonnet?," he questioned.
  Again in hushed and subdued voice she spoke to him, "Please sit Lyle... I think its best to ask you take this sitting down."
  A tad weary from travel Lyle quickly plopped down onto the tiled floor to sit before the Elf.  He was beginning to be unsure of what kind of things Elohanna had asked him there to speak of.  "Bad news o' that magnitude eh?  Ain' soundin' too good."
  "Well it depends upon how you take it," breathed Elohanna as Lyle un-capped a canteen and gulped down it's contents to satisfy the thirst that had been building in his throat for a tiem now.
  She seemed to pause for a moment, so he filled the silence in the slightest of jest or explanation, "Thought it best te 'ave a drink afore ah find out the degree o' terribleness."  His words were followed by a somewhat unsteady chuckle from himself.
  Elohanna must have chosen not to hear the unsteady tone of Lyle's chuckling, yet she herself laughed and commented to him, "Oh I hope you never ever loose the laughter in your voice Lyle."
  Her laughter always brought a spot of joy to his heart when it tickled his ears, as most laughter had the tendency to do for him.  He smiled up at her as she stood over him there in the tower.  "So, spill the beans already, would ye?"
  The moment of levity ended abruptly as Elohanna uttered the words, "I need your help."
  Lyles eyes narrowed as they watched her with an inquisitive look and he waited for her to say more.  "Go on," he urged her gently.
  She did go on then and began to explain with some hesitation, "You see... Since our trip to Karthy... I have been most interested in doing what I can to help free the slaves there."  Lyle could feel her eyes watching him to guage his reaction as she spoke. 
  "Not all at once mind you," she paused again, "but perhaps a few at a time."
  Inside Lyle groaned.  He remembered too well their trip to Karthy where they had followed a lead in search of his own great-grandfather.  They had been forced to buy a halfling slave that had belonged to Lyle's lost relative in hopes the slave would lead them to him.  The slave-traders they had to deal with were among the most unsavory types Lyle had had the discomfort of ever encountering, and they were religious fanatics devoted to the goddess Xeen on top of it all.  The way had acted in order to avoid their suspicion had made his gut wrench and turn for every moment of their time thier while he'd negotiated the purchase to free the slave.
  He stared back up at Elohanna as his mind refocused on the pressent, "Ifn this is goin' whar ah think it's goin' ye best git it out quick afore ah git to thinkin' too much bout it an' say no."
  "I wish to ask you if you would help me by being a purchaser Lyle," Elohanna tried her best to persuade him.  "You have a rapor with miss Ranalea."
  Ranalea...  The name was one that sent shivers up and down Lyle's spine.  Cold and heartless as they come, he thought her, and she was the leader of those slave-traders within the Vine that he'd had to deal with.  His gaze dropped as he looked down at the floor, the wide brim of his hat hiding his face completely from Elohanna's view.  "Well now...that's what ah were afraid ye'd be askin'," the drawl of his country accent thick with some of the dread of the prospect he felt from deep inside, "Not so sure ah wan' te chance 'nuther meetin' wit' that one, she's right crazed ye ken.  One twist'd mind in 'er....no doubt 'bout that."
  Elohanna's voice continued to urge his consideration of her request in gentle soothing tones that would relax an angered Ogre, "Lyle....I do not ask you to make a decision now and if it is Aeridins will that you do he will truly put it in your heart to do so."  She paused for a moment letting the first words settle in his mind before piling more in, "I know this is very dangerous to be asking."
  While Aeridan was a close ally of Lyle's own Lady Comfort, he felt no allegiance to the other god himself, and were not Elohanna a friend such an appeal would have cost her hope of his support.  "Ain' Aeridan ah follow, Elo'anna," he reminded her, "But, ah don' think Lady Comfort's too keen on folks bein' mistreated an' 'avin their freedom stole niethah."  His words were followed by a hollow sounding sigh.
  "Yes. I know, he has put this in my heart for a reason. He has brought my friends together for this cause," remarked Elohanna, and Lyle could hear with his bard's ears the pleading in her voice and sincerity only the heart could inspire.  "Lyle, this is a chance to really do some good for them and help where we can. To think more about others than we have of ourselves."
  "Right 'nuff, ah ken that miss.  Don' think me cold-'earted," Lyle's own measure of compassion pushed against the walls his common sense and urge for self-preservation had tried to quickly build, and he knew those walls were cracking before he spoke again.
  He must've paused longer than he'd thought though in that moment for Elohanna had time to answer before another syllabol could escape his lips, "I don't at all.  I would never think you that way Lyle."  He could hear in her voice that she sensed she'd won his support in that moment.
  the walls inside hadn't fallen completely to Lyle himself yet though, and his lips uttered some more words of futile resistance, "Took all my strength goin' 'gainst my conscience te git out that slave what belong'd te Ol' Lyle last time... ah don' like 'e'en pretendin' te be the kind o' person what'd buy a slave.  An' ifn Ranalea e'er start'd suspectin' me o' my real role.... well, ah wouldn't be none to pretty wit' a target paint'd on my 'ead."
  Elohanna looked down at the floor in that moment, perhaps he'd judged wrong and his words crushed the hope that had been in her a moment before.  It was something Lyle couldn't bear to see, or hear in her voice as she said rather dejectedly, "I have no right to ask you... I am so sorry Lyle."
  "Ah ain' sayin' yes an' ah ain' sayin' no jus' yet," he answered with a tone that might have hinted at a crankiness directed at himself.  "Ye best tell me more what ye got plann'd."  It was her thrice-darned appearance of child-like innocence that doomed him, Lyle decided.  No man with any kind of heart could stand against such as that.
  Yes, Lyle could tell she definitely knew she won as she brightened to explain her efforts so far, "As I said I have been talking with a few friends, making plans for a halfway house to be a home for the freed slaves until they are ready to be on their own.  I have already 3 rooms in a house in Krandor," she paused for breath, "And I am steadily making provisions to furnish them and gaingin support of friends to help in the efforts.
  Lyle nodded, from her perspective it may have seemed in acknowledgement of her plans and accomplishments so far, but Lyle knew he nodded to himself to acknowledge the defeat of those now shattered walls within himself.
  "I also have the backing of the Angel's guild," she began to go on some more before Lyle's voice stopped her.
  "Right nuff, but ye ken yer goin' te need a lot o' True te be buyin' slaves...Ol' Lyles came cheap 'cause 'e were a nuisance te them...," he conceded with his last and most un-felt effort to resist.
  She looked down at him to answer, "I know Lyle trust me, and I am trying to make money as quickly as possible.  The Angels have offered to contribute half the guild earnings to this cause, and I will be steadily trying to earn more where I can."
  Perhaps inspired by a touch of Deliar, and what few bricks were left of those crushed walls within, Lyle offered, "List'n...ah ken this 'ere's goin' te sound a bit mercenary-like, but ifn ah'm goin' te be puttin' my 'ead on the line ah think ah'm goin' te want a bit o' True myself.  Right is right an' all, but dead is dead too, ye ken?"
  Elohanna, not about to chance losing him, responded, "and I would be wrong to ask you to do this without compensating you.  Please Lyle, consider this and let me know what you believe is fair.  Your life to me is priceless."
  Lyle couldn't help but chuckle as he voiced the slightly sarcastic remark his wit prodded upward from within himself to be spoken, "Well miss, te me ah think it's a might bit more priceless than is it te ye."
  Elohanna smiled that wonderful smile of hers at hsi quick wit, but her determination goaded her to continue to make her point "Well of course, but still the slavers have deamed human life worthy of putting a price tag on that comes far more cheap than their true value."
  To that Lyle could only nod his agreement.  However grudgingly he had been hoodwinked by her pure innocence into this crazy scheme, he knew in his own heart it was the right sort of thing to do, even if they only managed to free one slave it would be worth it.  He commented on her last words, his own conviction behind his voice now, "Indeedy, an' that ain' right."
  Elohanna picked up and continued, "No it's not at all, Lyle, we were not born as slaves.  Not one of us."
  The tiny bit of argumentative nature in Lyle took hold of his tongue for a moment, and he really wished it hadn't, but the words came out, "Well, now, some slaves were born inte it, ye ken that too don' ye?"
  "Yes, born into, but not by choice," Elohanna countered.
  "True 'nuff," Lyle's better self regained control of his slippery tongue once more, "Ah don' like slavery, not one bit mind ye.  But ah also ken it ain' goin' 'way none too soon niethah, ifn it evah does."
  "I know you don't Lyle," Elohanna smiled warmly as she quickly interjected.
  Lyle went on to name his price for his aid, though a bit of his conscience screamed he should do this good thing just to do good and that should be good enough, "Ah'll 'elp ye though, fer 5000 True each slave freed."
  Again more quickly than Lyle himself could continue as his inner feelings struggled inside himself, Elohanna quickly spoke to accept his offer, "A small price to pay."  The smile once again spread across her lips, giving the feeling of comfort received by a child who's pleased his mother as he sees her smiling upon him.
  That bit of Deliar gripped Lyles tongue again for a moment and he spoke it's reservations, "Ah'll prolly kick myself fer not askin' fer more when them slavers put a price on my 'ead, but ah'll cross that bridge when ah come te it."
  "We take it slowly Lyle, " she soothed, "We rush into this head long and we will make a mistake that we can not afford to make."
  The gears in his head turned a bit more, beginning to grasp the nature of what he'd gotten talked into.  They urged him to speak in favor of some safeguards for himself, "Ah might 'ave soem othah stipulations too...  Like, ah think it might be best ye din't accomp'ny me when ah go te do the buyin' an' such."
  "I understand Lyle.  I would only arrouse suspicion," Elohanna agreed, prompting a nod from Lyle.
  "That an' thar ain' no need te put more lives on the line than nescessary," he added after her.  Another stipulation came to mind to be spoken, "Ah might let ye pick one or two folks te come wit' me as muscle, ifn their needed, but ah ain' goin' te work wit' no idjiots neithah, so anyone ye pick is also subject te my approval."
  "Of course.  I will still not rush you into this decision Lyle.  I still wish for you to take your time," she spoke with the confidence that he couldn't change his mind now, and wouldn't want to.  "There is more than just yourself to consider in this.  There is also Lillian."
  That last comment in a way hit a nerve in Lyle.  Lillian, who he loved so much and wished to marry.  Lillian, who had been gone from his life so much in recent times that she was now more a stranger, and worse so due to the wrongful ideas that Drow, Daralith, filled her mind with each moment she was away.  Lyle had reservations about Lillian that surprised himself even.  A part of him questioned whether she could be trusted if she knew.  Mostly Lyle felt confident she'd not betray him ever, but there was that tiny voice that nagged the possibility that his faith in her might just possibly be misplaced.   He hated himself for thinking it.  He loved her still, didn't he?  Wouldn't he always?  His mind spun back to the moment and he nearly barked out, "An ah don' want Lillian involved in this."
  "No, I wouldn't ask her at all," replied Elohanna, obviously with the belief that he said what he did out of a wish to protect his beloved and unknowing of the truth that it was voice because of that tiny voice of mistrust inside Lyle's own mind.
  He re-affirmed with a follow-up comment, "Ah don' want 'er te evah know 'bout it."  the words came out.
  "In fact the less she knows the better," Elohanna said as she thought she was thinking along the same lines as Lyle, to protect Lillian from harm.
  "Indeedy...but fer othah reasons than ye might think," Lyle responded.
  Elohanna still hadn't picked up why Lyle wanted Lillian kept out of this loop, and perhaps that was for the best Lyle thought as he listened to her, "To keep her safe in any case.  I know you love her, and because this would hit very close to her heart.  She is a strong woman."
  Again Lyle's tongue moved more quickly than he could put a reign on it, "That might be true in some ways miss, but in othahs she ain' strong a'tall."  Immediately he hated himself for speaking the words, but once spoken word cannot be taken back he knew.
  "I will be trusting you to know her best," she said as she looked at him.
  That tongue ofhis couldn't seem to resist flapping now, it spoke more words he regretted, "Well, te be 'onest, sumtimes ah wonner ifn ah really do ken 'er.  But that ain' no burden ye need te be shoulderin', so don't ye fret none 'bout it."  Lyle began to think murderous thoughts about his will-full tongue.  He imagined for a moment cutting it out after leaving this talk.
  At last Elohanna began showing a little understanding, "One thing to remember Lyle. Is you never truly know anyone.  Not even yourself, no matter how convinced you are."
  Lyle's acting ability came to the fore to save his skin in his own mind before Elohanna, and he said in jest to divert the conversation back to lines more pleasant, "Now don' go gittin' all philosophical on me lass.  As a bard, that's my job."  Lyle the actor added a wink and a chuckle for good measure.
  Perhaps his jest worked as intended, for soon after the melodic tones of  Elohanna's giggle chimed throughout the room, echoing even from far corners of the empty chamber.  "Sorry I have this habit," she added in retort to Lyle's comment of getting philosophical, "I will leave it in your most capable hands."  Once more another bit of her laughter lightened the room.
  He couldn't help it, and his mind returned to the commitment he'd made to help in freeing slaves.  Those conflicting voices, though defeated by good conscience and compassion, continued to attempt an insurection within.  Lyle rubbed the back of his neck as he stared down once more upon the tiled floor and uttered with a sigh, "Ah 'ope ah don' regret this..."
  Sensing an opportunity to change the subject, perhaps, Elohanna remarked suddenly in more cheerful tones, "Lyle that reminds me!  I had a much simpler request to ask of you."  There was that winning smile again.  Lyle could understand well how it was the hearts of Human men so often fell for Elven maidens when he looked upon her.
  Curious as to what other favor she might have to ask him he prompted her further, "An' what might that be miss Elo'anna?"
  "Can you make a harp?," she looked at him and asked.
  Making musical instruments was something that had long brought joy to Lyle, and he was very good at it.  Good enough he could have chosen to be offeneded that she'd even need to ask if  he 'could' make a harp.  Lyle wasn't one to take offense very easilly in most cases though so he simply answered, "Sure can.  What kind o' metal ye need one made o'?"
  She smiled again, "What kind of metals can you use?"
  "Copp'r, bronze, or gold at pressent, ifn ye kin' supply the materials," he explained.  Boasting a little he added, "In fact, ah jus' made two gold 'arps fer Freldoo jus' the othah day."
  "How much metal?," came Elohanna's inquiry.
  Lyle, glad to get some interest in his work was happy to answer, "Oh, a 'arp takes 2 ingots o' metal an' 5 wads o' spider silk te make."
  Again that smile of hers blessed his eyes, "I can get both rather easily."
  With a twinkle in his own eyes he prompted, "Right nuff then.  What kind o' metal ye goin' te bring me so ah kin quote ye a price?"
  "I think I would start with copper to begin with. Just so I can get the feel for the harp," she began, but then it appeared she reconsidered, "Although I am quite tempted to go with the gold as I know where there is some stored away for me, and the silk really is easy to get."
  Going for the up-sell Lyle made up her mind for her, "Right nuff.  Ah gold 'arp'll run ye 3500 Trues then."
  His choice stuck and she asked with yet another smile, "How long will you be around Hlint?  I would have to portal to Dregar to get the Trues."
  Lyle reasoned she must have a private store of Trues outside the banking system if she needed to go to Dregar, but that really didn't matter too much to himself.  He decided he could stick around town long enough to make a sale, it wasn't often he got business for instruments after all, "Oh, ah'll prolly be 'round long nuff ifn ye got the stuff ah need."
  "I have the silk already...," she began to answer.
  Lyle just saved her the trouble of listing what she might still need to collect and voiced his intent, "Ah'll wait in the craftin' 'ouse fer ye then."
  Her happiness came through in her voice, "Thank you dearly Lyle!"  She stood up slowly and began to make her way back downstairs.
  After standing himself, Lyle turned to go along with with and commented with a chuckle, "Well, ah can't refuse te do business when it comes so rarely, 'specially not when it comes from a pretty lady like yerself."
  Elohanna blushed at his compliment and thanked him again, "Thank you so much Lyle!  I shall be back quickly!"
  "Right nuff," he said after her and chuckled some more, "Now git on."
  Another final chuckle from Lyle echoed through the empty hall of the upper floor of Moraken's Tower as the two trod down the stairway.

[Nehetsrev]

Decisions of Heart & Shadow, Part II Oclar 17, 1411 - Inside the Hlint Crafting House Lyle stepped into the Hlint crafting house, and onto the edge of a rather fresh pile of ox-dung. Silently he breathed out a curse upon the lazy and careless owner of the beast that had been left unattended in the crafting house for possibly days. As thin and gaunt as the poor animal looked, still standing nearby, Lyle was somewhat amazed it had had anything left in it to drop in such a pile on the floor. Perhaps a kind heart in passing had brought in a bit of hay for the creature to consume, since the laws in place prevented all but the beasts rightful owner, or authorized city officials, from untying the animal to move it. Lyle wondered if the poor thing belonged to a Corathite or some other such lowlife, being as it had been neglected so badly. In any case, he mouthed a silent blessing of comfort for the starving, unkempt and filthy smelling animal, for no beast deserved such a fate.  As he slowly stepped further in the direction of the woodworking bench he'd come to use for making some oak crossbow bolt-shafts, his keen ears picked up on two familiar voices in the back near the instrument crafting workspace. They were speaking of someone else it seemed, but soon their attention fell on Lyle himself.  The lovely voice of Ranéwin commented to Freldo before trailing off, "He doesn't get the hint...."  "Definitely," Freldo replied before he gave voice to his notice of Lyle, "Oh look, short guy on the horizon. I don't know how we missed him." He paused long enough to let a grin spread across his face, "Purple and all."  "He was hiding under the table," joked Ranéwin.  Freldo pretended to act surprised and further her jest, "Really?" His irrepressible boyish grin a constant upon his boyish face. It was a mystery to Lyle how the man continued to look as youthful as he did despite his relative age. Lyle reasoned it must have something to do with how youthful Freldo acted most of his life, a fount of youth born from within the other bards own passionate heart.  Ranéwin shrugged and answered Freldo most definitely, "Maybe!"  In his usual manner, Lyle tipped his hat and greeted them both with his own smile as he wondered why they'd been looking for him of all people, "Hello hello."  In mockery of regal sounding tones Freldo announced, "Master Lyle of the Underroot Family. I have here thirty branches of the finest oak. Do you wish-eth me to place-eth them on the bench... eth?"  Inwardly Lyle smiled even if it didn't show in his face because his mouth was too busy moving, "Indeedy, jus' put 'em on the woodworkin' bench 'ere be'ind me ifn ye would sah. Prunilla be praised! An ah 'magine Dorand'll be right 'appy too." He punctuated his statements with a pleased chuckle.  "Will do Mastah Lyle!," Freldo said with a nod as he mocked Lyle's own country accent this time. The he siezed on the opportunity to brag a little, "Speaking of Prunilla, I baked a pie in her temple. Ranéwin is proof that I had to stand guard over it so that it wasn't... you know... eaten." Freldo's pride was self-evident in his grin.  Ranéwin quickly confirmed Freldo's story of pie-baking, "It's true, there were halfings everywhere."  Lyle couldn't help but chuckle. He and Freldo had always had such good rapor, and as tall-folk went, Lyle considered Freldo to possibly be his best friend among them. Of his own skill in the kitchen Lyle remarked, "Ah'm likely 'bout the only Prunillan what don' ken 'ow te cook worth a 'ill o' beans." Perhaps some day he'd bother himself to learn how to at least bake a loaf of bread Lyle thought to himself as he chuckled mirthfully once more.  "Oh!," Freldo sounded self-surprised, "I forgot your pie. Silly me."  Lyle took note that Freldo had lain out the branches of oak upon the woodworking bench neatly for Lyle and was reminded he had something to give Freldo himself. Before Frledo could exscuse himself to run oof after the pie Lyle stopped him, "Oh, reminds me, 'ere's that sawdust ah promised ye." He pulled from his pack several heavy bags full of sawdust from mahogany branches Freldo had barted to him a few days previously, and he handed each to Freldo happily.  "Oh! Thanks Lyle," Freldo said merrily before returning to his mock-regal voice, "Now I shall grab-eth a pie-eth from my cooking crate-eth and bring it to you." He paused to smile and switched to his normal tones once more to add, "I'll be right back with your courtesy pie."  Lyle considered the pile of branches awaiting his attention and decided he really didnt' want to have ot carry the dust from them as he had the mahogany, so he offered, "Ifn ye want it, ah'll give ye the sawdust from this 'ere oak when ah'm finish'd too."  "Oak?," Freldo shrugged, "Sure, I'll make them into parchments."  Lyle was pleased, "Right nuff. Ah'm sure sumone's bound te appreciate such fine parchment."  "Most likely Lyle." His cheerful smile upon his face, he turned to Ranéwin, "Ranéwin, with your leave I shall rescue a pie from the crate of the Baked Goods."  Ranéwin smiled back at him, "Go ahead." It was evident from the way they looked at each other, the two really did have something special between them. Such affection between partners always put a smile on Lyle's own face, and a bit of comfort in his heart.  With a bow and a smile Freldo uttered, "Thank you my lady." Then he sped off on his way to thier home which was not far away in east Hlint itself.  Freldo departed, Ranéwin had an opportunity to get some words in herself at last as Lyle turned his attention to the pile of oak branches and set to work, "Had a chance to speak with Lilly yet?"  The question stung at Lyle's heart so much he forgot to answer. It seemed almsot years since he had the opportunity to spend much time at all with Lillian. She was always away traveling distant lands, and Lyle again considered her seriousness when she'd proposed to him after he'd pestered her for some time about marriage. It was frustrating him, and breaking his heart each day though he'd grown to dissillusion himself that he didn't mind her absence so much. It further didn't help that he could get no aid from the Lucky Clovers of Prunilla in regards to planning and holding the wedding. He reasoned they were likely too busy praying Prunillas blessings over every field that was farmed in all the lands in an effort to keep enough food growing to support the starving masses.  Inside his mind, and unnoticed to himself a virtual gear clicked and his mind provided diversion from the thoughts that would pain his heart. He turned his full attention upon the bench full of wood and stared it down as though he were about to duel it. In bass tones he spoke to the bench, "When last we met ah were the student an' you were the teacher, but now...." He paused dramaticly, "Ah am the mastah!" The dose of humor served it's purpose and distracted him enough that he chuckled. Then   Lyle became too involved in making bolt-shafts to bother noticing whether Ranéwin had laughed as well, or seen through the defense of his heart.  A few minutes later Freldo burst in through the door of the crafting house announcing boldly to all, "I have-th returned-eth-ed." His entry brought a smile to Ranéwin's face that had not been there a moment before as she stood nearby Lyle while he worked.  Lyle paused in his work to turn and give Freldo his attention, "Right nuff sah." He'd forgotten by now all about Ranéwin's question and how much he missed Lillian, so a grin was able to apply itself firmly to his face.  "Lyle, I got something crusty-ish, sweet and red waiting for you," Freldo said with his usual smile, "And, so that you know, it was baked in a place very special to you."  "Indeedy sah," Lyle responded in return.  "Yes sah!," Freldo mocked Lyle's accent again as he held out a wonderful looking cherry pie for Lyle.  Playfully Lyle acted cross for a moment, "Ye mockin' me lad?"  Equally as playfully, or even perhaps more playfully, Freldo answered, "No sah!" His grin spread even wider in their joint bantering with one another.  "Right nuff then," Lyle chuckled as he accepted the pie with a grin. He took a moment to carefully pack it away for later. It was somethign he intended to enjoy properly when his belly wasn't quite so full anymore.  Freldo added in reference to the pie, "Nice and cherry-like."  Joyfully Lyle added, "Indeedy!"  "Indeed," replied Freldo. Again he smiled, as always he smiled.  Lyle decided to return to his woodworking but didn't want to inconvenience Freldo too much if he had someplace else to be, so he asked, "Ye want te stick 'round while ah make sawdust, or jus' git it later?"  "I'll stick around," Freldo said, "It's easier to bake in batches anyway."  Lyle smiled back and spoke before turning once more to the bench, "Right nuff, ah'll git te work then."  As good bards seldom miss a chance to perform for friends and strangers alike, Freldo took out a fine violin, nodded, and began to play Lyle a carpentry song. It was aparent to Lyle that Freldo had spent some time with other right-sized folk, because he recognized the melody almost immediately as one well known among his kind. He began to sing along as he worked the wood. Meanwhile, Ranéwin, who'd remained rather quiet amid the flurry of words between the two, closed her eyes as she listened in enjoyment. Expertly Freldo matched the rythm of the song to the rythm of Lyle's banging and sawing on the wood.  After a few moments of Lyle's accompanyment Freldo mouthed with a smirk, "Stealing my thunder, huh?"  Lyle stopped singing to remark, "Ye know it!", and he chuckled in enjoyment. Freldo laughed as well. Then Lyle asked mischievously, "What's a big fella like you need thund'r fer anyhow?"  Freldo answered sagely, "Thunder's nice, especially other's thunder, it's always fun to steal it." His perpetual grin even brought a smile to Ranéwin.  She commented, "It's mean though. Some people like having thunder."  Freldo responded to both statements in turn, "Yes it is. Yes they do." He grinned and added, "Which makes the stealing bit so much fun."  A chuckle came from Lyle at that before Ranéwin excalimed, "You're not stealing my thunder!" She poked Freldo for good measure.  Freldo looked at her with his youthful smile beaming, "Your thunder is hard to steal..."  Lyle tried to interject his own jest, "O' course 'e ain' miss, cause ah already dun beat 'im to it!" He chuckled to himself, though it seemed the two were too intent on eachother for the moment.  "...I mean, I'm not going to try and grab it," Freldo went on as he beheld her.  "Yep, and if you do, you know lightening usually follows," Ranéwin said with a giggle.  Freldo affirmed, "Yup. No stealing Ranewin's thunder for fear of lightning."  Lyle decided to add his earlier jest, "That's why ah put it back right quick an' careful like afore ye noticed it were gone." He winked to them both as he turned from the bench at last finished with working the oak. This time he at least drew forth a smile from both Ranéwin and Freldo.  Quickly sweeping up the pile of sawdust from his efforts making bolt-shafts, Lyle put it into several bags and turned to Freldo, "Well, 'ere's the dust fer ye Freldoo."  "Any luck?," Freldo smiled as he put away his violin and prepared to recieve the many bags of sawdust. "Wow...," he nodded at each bag in turn as he accepted them, "So much saw dust."  "Lots o' luck making dust, not so much luck makin' shafts, but ah got 'nuff fer my needs fer now anyhow," Lyle explained, knowing well he had fudged more attempts at bolts than he had been successful with. Oak was a bit harder than the hickory he was used to working, and had more knots too.  'Oh good...," Freldo remarked as he pondered Lyles statement.  "Now ah jus' need copper," Lyle went on to say with pause for a brief chuckle, "an' clay te make the arrowhead molds ah 'spose."  Freldo smiled in understanding, and perhaps sympathy, "I hate that part. Clay is so boring."  Even Ranéwin commented on the nature of clay-digging, "Yes, it is, messy too."  Lyle took it in stride, "Well, it ain' so bad as doin' nuthin' a'tall though. An' a bit o' mess kin be fun in itself."  "Yes, so true Lyle. It's also nice to see the world too." Deciding it might be time to leave, Freldo turned to his lovely lady, "Ranewin, up for some paper making?"  With all the enthusiasm of a woman headed for her own execution Ranéwin spoke, "Hm, paper making?"  "Paper making," Freldo affirmed matter-of-factly. His ability to keep a straight face servinghim well as he added, "You get to witness, first hand, how one of the world's best paper makers makes paper."  Ranéwin apparently had other things on her mind, "Sounds....great....? Then can we do something after?" Her smile for Freldo was warm and inviting, and perhaps a bit playful as she looked ot him and giggled.  "Of course we can," beamed Freldo.  Lyle chuckled and commented on the practice of making parhcment,"Sounds bout as excitin' as watchin' paint dry."  Ranéwin nodded to Lyle smiling and Freldo answered him with a smirk, "Exactly Lyle." He turned again to Ranéwin, "Unless, my lady, you wish to be excused of such a boring task? I will happily let you not watch paint dry."  Ranéwin teased, "I'll go find some paint thats drying...," puasing for effect just a moment before going on, "actually no..." She smiled back at Freldo again and he nodded to her.  "Speakin' o paint....ah dun found a mortar an' pestil in some minaret out in the Wolfswood," Lyle spoke as he recalled a discovery he'd made visiting a hidden and magnificently beautiful structure he'd visited only days before. The mortar and pestil of which he spoke had caught his curiosity and he asked further, "Eithah o' ye ken the recipies te make the dyes?"  Freldo shrugged, "Don't know what that thing can do Lyle. Perhaps mash stuff up. Don't know..."  "Indeedy. Looked like someone 'ad used it te mash things te makes dyes, so that's what I thought it used fer," Lyle explained his suppositions and interest further.  It was that moment that something of significance occurred to draw the attention of all three standing there. Nearby, someone cleared their throat. Someone near to Lyle's own size. Someone dear to Lyle's own heart. His heart which skipped not just one, but several beats in a row before beating once and then skipping another beat again.  Carefully Lyle stepped around to look behind Freldo and Ranéwin, unsure he heard who he thought he heard. Upon seeing her, though her armor and garments were looking soiled from fighting and travel, Lyle's mouth opened in surprise for a brief infinity before he exclaimed almost in disbelief, "Lilly!"  Freldo turned as well to see her and remarked, "Lookie who's here." After which he silenced himself to watch along side Ranéwin as the two were reunited once more.  Acknowledging Lyle, perhaps in almost the slightest of ways, Lillian nodded.  Lyle had hoped for more from the woman he loved and who had long confessed to love him, but he also knew that Lillian wasn't the type to openly show much affection, or at least that's what he told himself to exscuse her. He exclaimed further, "Yer a sight fer sore eyes!" He stepped forward and embraced her in a big hug, well as big as a hug as can be given from one his size at any rate.  She responded dully, "Um, yep. Sorry," and returned his hug with what Lyle felt was noticeably less feeling.  After so long apart, Lyle felt willing to forgive every moment of her absence. He felt ready to move forward in their relationship and most of all he felt he never wished to be apart from her again. The love he bore in his heart for her blazing more fiercely than ever it had since the first day he'd laid his eyes upon her. He didn't wish to let her go, and blind in his own love he hoped she felt as he did. "Let's go find a minister an' git hitched, fergit the weddin' plannin an all that 'eadache!," he grinned at her.  She cocked an eyebrow and put the back of her hand up to his forehead, "Ye feeling alright?"  Again his dissappointment turned in his stomach, but he never wanted to give up hope. Things had been growing cold between them for some time.... Years really. But Lyle never let go of the hope she loved him as she continued to claim whenever his doubts would bring him to question her love. Now was no different. He clung to the tiny scrap of hope he had left as if it were an entire continent held firmly in place amidst the oceans, and not as though it were the tiny bit of nearly water-logged flotsam that somewhere inside himself he knew it was. He voiced his grief, masked within a chuckle, "Well, it's been so long ah been wonderin' ifn ah'd evah see ye agin. Don' want te take chance o' ye not comin back next time."  Her answering words were too casual, he knew, but he listened, "I'm fine. Just working out some ways to trick the soul mom into splitting my last few strands into a few more. Then I will go kill that motherless whore."  Freldo was quick to shoot Lillian a disapproving look. Lillian seemed to pay it no mind.  Lyle paled outwardly at hearing her crazy pronouncement, but that which he clung to bade him overlook it, "Well, ifn that's yer thang... Ah've 'eard it's been done afore. Well, not te the point o' anyone killin' 'er anyhow....but she's been beaten."  "Ya with me?," Lillian demanded to know, a cold, maniacal chuckle stabbing the world of sound within the crafting house, "This time she's gonna die. I'll be the harvester when I am done."  Lyle pondered the scheme a moment while Ranéwin hugged closer to Freldo, "Ye'd take 'er place?"  "Right," answered Lillian.  Freldo interjected, "Hey there Lilly, that's crazy talk."  "Alright, I'll be the soul mother. You can harvest for me Freldo," she prodded.  Lyle spoke as though from within a fogged mind, which indeed his thoughts had become quite clouded, "Freldoo's right ah think. That is crazy talkin'. Why would ye want that job?"  By then Freldo had sighed and answered, "No Lilly, I don't want the job."  Lyle had lost all understanding of the woman who now stood before him. He hardly believed what he was hearing her say as she continued with a shrug, "Just something to aspire to. Just like those wings I want to grow."  He tried to play off her crazy talk by turningit into a joke, surely she had meant it as such, hadn't she? He jested, but with a valid point he tought, "It'd git right borin' affer the first bit o' eternity an' all."  Lillian nonchalantly took out a canteen and downed it in a few gulps. Freldo took the opportunity to rebuff her, "Wings? Soul Mother? Sheesh Lilly, you need a vacation to calm down."  Lyle continued to try to play her odd behavior off as a joke, "Ah think she done jus' got back from too long a vacation Freldoo."  Aparently Lillian made up her mind to find something else to do, and someplace else to do it. "I'm headed to Silden to craft and get my mind off stuff. Underdark does weird things to me," she stated.  Freldo loked at her with concern, "Yes Lilly, it might. But we're your friends and..."  Lillian interupted him, "Hey Freldo, can you cut and polish an emerald without messing up?"  Not to be caught completely off-guard, Freldo was quick to respond, "Oh, not yet..." Then he quickly returned to what he'd been trying to say before the interuption, and Lillian sighed in apparent disappointment at his answer about the rare gem. Freldo went on, "And I'm sure we're all worried about you, crazy talk and all. Let's go kill some Drow if that'll make you feel better. But stop this soul harvester thing."  She just looked at him coolly, "You don't think I'd make a good soul mom?"  By this time Lyles fogged head managed to put forth the name of someone who might help in cutting gems, "What 'bout that Treana lady you used te be friendly wit? She does gemcraftin' don't she?"  "Yes she does Lyle," Freldo quickly answered.  Lillian seemed interested for a moment, "Think she can cut one?"  Lyle shrugged and answered truthfully, "Ah've no idea te be 'onest."  "I always got Kavil," stated Lillian next.  Freldo nodded, "I hear he's pretty competent."  "This is one gem I don't take chances with. It's worth the extra jink," Lillian said firmly.
  "Yes, yes, so true," Freldo could do nothing but agree. Emeralds being perhaps the rarest and hardest sought gems in all the world. Untold thousands, if not millions of sould were lost in attempts to claim them from the depths.   "Expedition I was on hauled seven out after one heck of a fight," she bragged.  "Oh? Only seven folks in the group?," querried Freldo in interest.  "Nope. Eleven," Lillian pused with a smirk, "Sometimes the old dice are lucky to Lil."  "Heh... Lucky you," answered Freldo, and then he changed the subject a bit, "Now stop this manic depressive stunt Lilly or you'll start sounding like someone we both dislike very much."  "Who's depressive?," asked Lillian coolly as she pulled out a bottle of juice from her pack.  Freldo gave pause to stare at her a moment before answering, "You are, and it's not depressive, it's manic depressive. Mood swings, bipolar."  Lillian looked at the bottle of juice in her hand a moment, shrugged, then put it back in favor of a bottle of gin instead. "Bi what?," she asked.  Freldo explained in layman terms, or something akin to them, "Happy girl one minute, crazy one with a knife to her neck the next. Bipolar."  "I told ya, it's the underdark wearing off. Gimme a break, eh?," she attempted to brush off all concerns. "Gin?," she asked as she held out the bottle everyone.  Lyle remained for the most part too dumbfounded to speak, too clouded in the war between the love he held for Lillian and the common sense that told him this wasn't the woman he had fallen in love with standing before him. The powerful feelings of the love he held for her would not be dismissed, exscuse for her would be made, a new perception of his reality of her formed to protect his heart from the loss he had already suffered and covered over many times before.  Freldo's next words helped build that blindness within Lyle further, though surely they were not meant to as Freldo spoke to Lillian, "I'll give you a break if you understand that we here all love you very much... Some as friends, some as something else." At that point he smiled at Lyle, as did Ranéwin adding on top of her smile a nod as well.  "Gin?," Lillian offered again.  Lyle replied numbly and mechanically, "No thank ye Lilly. Ye ken ah don' drink nuthin' strong'r than Wizards Wheat Ale. Got me chords te look affer an' all."  Lillian pulled out another bottle and offered, "Red Crow?"  "I'll take some," Freldo nodded. He turned to Lyle and advised with a smile, "Moderation is the key Lyle."  "Indeedy, an' moderation fer me is stickin' wit' the wizard's wheat," Lyle answered steadfast.  Freldo took the ale offered him by Lillian and had a drink. "Thats the spirit," she encouraged. "Dwarf's head?," she grinned wickedly with another offer, as the heady ale made Freldo wobble a bit almost immediately.  Not to be detered, Freldo returned to his firm stand of friendship, "Now Lilly, did you hear what I said or are you ignoring me again?"  Lillian almost groaned, "Yeah you said you care about me."  "We all do," Freldo reinforced his statements, "Very much. I'm sure we'll let you wear off the underdark but please don't think that being a soul reaper is the only way out."  Lyle managed to comment as well, "Indeedy."  Lillian changed the subject again, "Oh, I took on an apprentice."  "Really?," Freldo asked.  Lillian continued, "Yeah, halfling gal."  Freldo smirked, "Scimitar too?"  "Is there another weapon?," Lillian challenged.  "Heh, no...," said Freldo, his voice trailing off for a moment.  "Well, thar's my voice," Lyle tried to joke and gave a wink as he did.  Lillian commented further on her apprentice, "You'd like her Lyle. Real shy. Gave her my first challenge."  Lyle didn't bother to make any supposition about whether he'd like the apprentice Lillian had taken or not, in his eyes only Lillian mattered to him at that moment, and his love blinded him to any faults she had. But to keep conversation flowing he asked, "Did ye? An' what's that?"  "Kill a drow?," Freldo ventured.  "She's out collecting colored mushrooms. Always get a kick out of that assignment...," Lyle dimly recalled hearing Lillian say as the conversation drifted onward. It entered lighter tones for a time, at least that's how he remembered it going with his new shell of self-decpetion covering for his beloved Lillian. His thoughts turned to Freldo's guess of killing a Drow and Lyle drifted along with those thoughts.  There was one Drow specificly he felt he wouldn't mind killing. The Drow, Daralith, who Lillian had been doing business with and even traveling with for years. Lyle knew he poisoned her mind with all manner of decpetive trickery, twisting her desire for self-worth into a quest for attaining power that Daralith himself could use by manipulating her further. Just like a spider pulling the strands within it's web to get the bug trapped within to wiggle in fright a bit more and thus become more entangled. Lyle's mind wasn't normally attuned to contemplating such deliberately murderous thoughts, but his love for Lillian was a powerful force that blinded him to just how wrong such thoughts were. Perhaps other factors in Lyles life only made those murderous thoughts seem less evil.  A certain journal in Lyle's possession which he read and re-read countless times now was filled with the commentary of worse deeds performed by his own great-grandfather. The old, battered and worn journal that contained evidence of a dark line in Lyle's own heritage that might one day greatly define parts of Lyle's own identity may also have soaked his mind in shadow. A journal that might define parts of Lyle's identity that may better be left undefined...

[Nehetsrev]

Decisions of Heart & Shadow, Part III  Oclar 18, 1411 - Inside a house near Castle Raxswell on Dregar  Lyle had spent the last day and a half with Lillian after following her from the crafting house in Hlint. They'd taken a trip via portal to Arabel, and Lillian had remarked how much she liked the city while Lyle shivered with each scream born on the winds in that forsaken place. From there they sailed and eventually ended up in Silden in Roldem where Lillian had practiced her armorsmithing by making some helms from platinum. All the while, Lyle was with her, basking in her pressence under the veil of love-blinded eyes. His infatuation was such he stood idly by as if taking no real notice while Lillian demeaned the pawn shop broker for not wishing to pay her more for the helms she'd made.  They made there way from Silden back to Lorindar and then onward to a home near Castle Raxswell where they would portal presumeably back to Hlint from. But something awoke in Lyle just then as they walked toward the glowing column of light that would take them elsewhere, and realization opened his eyes some to see past the veil his blind love had erected to cover Lillian in her current state. A burning need arose in him to know if she truly loved him as he felt he loved her and he considered a way of asking what had come to his mind.  Hesitantly he stopped her a moment to ask, "Do ye want me Lilly?"  She turned to look upon him, and perhaps he only imagined her gaze like that of someone looking upon an insect, but that is how he felt at that moment seeing her rather cold expression. She answered, "Want ye to what?"  "Do ye want me, fer a 'usband?," he asked further. The question had been nagging at the back of his own mind for over a year, perhaps longer.  "Yeah, of course," she responded casually, "Why?"  Lyle felt he had her attention, something he realized he hadn't really had in the whole time they'd been together since leaving Hlint the previous day. "Jus' been puszllin' o'er sum things," he commented thoughtfully. Part of him even felt in simply posing the questions as he was doing now he could be walking a razors edge with her.  She asked, the barest hint of curiosity in her icy voice, "Like what?"  Lyle sprung what he'd conceived to be his own trap of words upon her, "Ain' one o' the things Daralith put inte yer 'ead that yer 'sposed te take wha ye want?" His own voice had become determined and calm, the resolve within him to know with some finality her true feelings for him, if she really had any left after so much time spent with the deceitful Drow.  She paused only a moment, it was evident from her look she may have determined where the conversation was going, "Yes, something like that."  Lyle acted stupid, playing his part well to draw her out, or so he thought, "Well, ah guess ah don' ken why ye ain' taken' me yet, ifn ye want me, see?"  "People aren't commodities," came her reply. It wasn't quite what he'd expected, but it wasn't the reaction he'd hoped for either. The words did give him a slight hope that maybe there was something of the woman he loved still inside there somewhere.  Yet Lyle may have made the mistake of pressing too hard what he thought was a button. His lips curled in a smirk thinking he'd won the point as he said, "That ain' the way ah've 'eard 'im talk 'bout Bakee. 'e treat's 'er as ifn she were property, ye ken that well nuff."  Then Lillian made a rebuttal, "She isn't property. She is with him through her own free will."  Lyle wasn't about to give up, he felt he needed to know her feelings for him and that this line might provoke them into showing themselves. He pressed some more, "Only 'cause 'e convinced 'er te be."  Lillian's eyes narrowed at him as she spoke once more, "We choose to help Daralith since we believe in what he says." She paused to take out some carefully wrapped fish on which to nibble, as though they were talking about the weather while they stood near the shimmering portal behind her. "I don't know why you have such a hard spot with him."  "Right nuff. Ye put a lot o' faith in 'im...that's yer choice ah 'spose," Lyle sensed the words were a mistake the way he said them, but they were out and it was too late to change them. He thought to himself before going on that he should never had made it sound like he condoned her choice in Daralith. He had to get the conversation back onto the track he wanted it to be on, and now a more direct question was needed for that, "Who do you love more? Me or 'im?" He knew it was risky trying to make her pick one over the other, and likely wouldn't work, but it was all he had left at the moment that he could think of.  "You," she said. To his ears her answer sounded hollow, without the emotion to confirm it's truth or falsehood.  He opted for another verbal jab, his position growing weaker he knew with each statement and counter-statement. Still he persisted, "So why do you believe 'im o'er me then? An' why do it seem ye spend more time wit' 'im? 'onestly, ah 'ardly evah see ye no more."  She shrugged off his questions, "I travel alot. You knew that when you met me."  He sensed an opening, maybe it would be enough, maybe not. He risked it, "We used te travel t'gethah."  "Maybe you are the one that wants out," she turned her trump card. She knew he couldn't pry out of her what it was he wanted to hear, and now this statement put the focus of blame onto him instead of herself. It was an artful retort, and an ages old one used by many before herself.  Lyle broken into frustration and it shown in his own words, "Well, maybe ah feel like ah ain' got in yet!" He raised his voice a bit as he went on, "Ah can't e'en remembah the last time ye seemed genuinely 'appy te see me."  Lillian snapped back at him coolly, "You've had a problem with me ever since the enslavement. With that damn drow child." She paused a second, givingher acusation time to ferment before adding, "I can feel the way you see me." She glowered at him now, her own anger beginning to rage outward, "I don't need to answer to anyone. This world is mine for the taking now... and I plan to do it."  "Lilly, ifn ah look at ye odd it's cuase ye changed unner that Drow's influence...ah should'a nevah let ye travel wit' 'im in the first place," speaking of Daralith, not those Drow that had enslaved her years ago when Mith sold her out to them.  "Maybe he finally opened my eyes," she said with the air of a zealot for her imagined savior.  Lyle tried to break through the ice that covered the flower he once knew, now so hidden and deep within' her that it perhaps itself turned as black as the shadows in her sould surrounding it. He challenged, "Ifn 'e did open 'em fer ye, it were only affer 'e repaint'd the view te 'is own ends!" His words were voiced softly yet in his own mind they were a shout to shatter the foundations of the fortress evil had built around the one he loved. Sadly, the shout was only in his own mind, and had no effect on the conditioning in place within Lillian's.  "He showed me my potential. I owe him my existence now," she stated with a fire so cold behind her voice that it froze Lyle's hopes in his heart...for a moment.  "You don' owe 'im nothin'," Lyle spat. His gaze had become steely and spoke of his fight for her, his battle to free her from the snares the Drow had so carefully laid upon her mind. There was no mistake in his mind now, this was a war for her love, for her redemption to good. He believed he would even be content if she hated him forever for it, but he must free her from that Drow's tainted hold upon her soul before it was too late, if it wasn't yet already.  "Why don't you embrace your existence and become the dragon you should be. We can rule these lands," she tried to sway him then, but her words made no sense to him. He had told her of his discovery that his great-grandfather had been a dragon masquerading as a Halfling. He'd also told her that some of his great-grandfather's blood flowed in his own veins, but it didn't mean in any way he could choose to become a dragon himself, that was just crazy. Unless she meant it figuratively, that he should become a shrewd and evil man. It made no sense. He decided to dismiss it.  "Ye've always 'ad yer potential, an' ye'd 'ave seen it yeself wit'out 'im," he tried to reason and plead with her. Grittinghis teeth he continued, "I don't want to be a dragon! Ah don' want te rule nuthin' neithah..."  She stared back at him as though trying to persuade him to her side of thinking with just her eyes, "Open yer eyes. It's your destiny. Maybe you need to spend some time with Daralith."  "Maybe ye need te spend less time wit' 'im! Like none a'tall!," Lyle spat once more. He couldn't grasp how the Drow had gotten so firm a hold on her even in all the time. Maybe it was true what she said, that she had begun to follow him willingly, eyes open to all that meant... If so, Lyle felt there was no hope for her.  In his mind her next words confirmed his fear as she said with venom, "I don't spend enough." She took one last look and spoke in finality, "I see we are getting nowhere. I knew I should have stayed at Miritrix a few more weeks." And then she turned her back to him, facing the portal. It's pulsing light illumined her sillouhette making it a shining outline with a black core as she stepped one pace nearer.  Lyle's heart wrenched and he breathed out a sigh that hissed as though his own soul seeped like a vapor from the shattered remains of his broken heart as he imagined it then to be. Yet calmly in a last effort to reach her somehow, he said to her, "Lilly...ah don' ken who ye've become... only thing left o' the flow'r ah saw fer the first time in Hlint those years ago seems te be the thorns."  Her head half-turned to glance over her cold, dispassionate shoulder. "I have become what I was destined to be... just like you should," she breathed.  "Lilly, ah don' believe in the destiny yer choosin' fer yerself," hope escape his words but he spoke them anyhow, "It ain' right. Ah still love ye, but ah can't love where yer 'eaded right now. Ah wish ye'd come back te me, an' walk down a differnt path wit' me."  Lillian only uttered a last sentance as though she hadn't heard Lyle speaking, "And that apprentice of mine... she will be just like me." Then her voice took a commanding tone, "Just plan the wedding," and she stepped into the portal. Where she was destined, Lyle knew not...  He stood reeling, both in mind and body. There was no love he could sense left in her for him, yet she had ordered him to plan their wedding anyway. Was it a joke, or did she think he'd remained so love-blind that he'd become a slave to her and do as she said? Lyle considered it for a moment. He also considered stepping through the portal after her, but knew that he didn't have any chance of finding her if he didn't know where she'd intended to go. So he stood before the shimmering light of the portal for some time, holding his hat in his hands and turning it round and round in them like a zombie with no purpose. He wanted to jump upon the hope that her last words offered, that there might something in her that really did still love him, but his heart knew it wasn't true. Reality was he had known for a long time now, deep within, but he had been unable to face it. She meant the world to him... He hadn't even been able to touch the Weave through song until he'd been inspired that first time he looked upon her. His Lilly had unlocked the power in his heart and voice. But now his Lilly was gone. He felt without her there was little left for him, but it couldn't end like that now could it?  He gathered his composure, placed his hat back upon his head, and stepped into the light himself. The house behind him left empty, like his soul felt.

[Nehetsrev]

Jular 25, 1412

Ah've been doin' sum thinkin'... or maybe avoidin' doin' it.

Lady Comfort's my constant companion and it's a good thang too, 'cause ah need comfortin' quite a bit since things with Lillian 'ave gone sour.  Ah wrote 'er a lettah tellin' 'er ah couldn't go wit' 'er on the path she's takin'.  She wrote back in a way that sound'd like she were threatinin' my life.  Ah 'spose ah can't 'spect more.  Ah'm tryin' though te puzzle out ifn she wrote like that 'cause she were really 'urt, or ifn' it's got more te do wit' 'er simply want'n' control o'er me.  Ah remembah one o' our talks where she said she want'd te rule through fear.

Anyhow, in my grief o'er it all ah decided te pour myself back inte findin' out more 'bout the language o' dragons so ah kin translate the Draconic sections o' my great-grandpa's journal.  Tried doin' sum research at the Great Library o'er in Voltrex, but ah didn't 'ave no luck really.  As much as my stomach churned while ah did, ah read a few books 'bout Pyrtechon an' Fisterion in 'opes thar might be sumthin' in 'em that might 'elp me wit' the Draconic.  Affer that ah ask'd Lady Comfort te fergive me fer readin' them gawdaweful thangs.

All o' Prunilla's teachin's are 'bout nurturin' thangs te grow an' prosper an' such.  But what ah read o' the evil scaley one is jus' the opposite.  All 'bout killin' an' destroyin' an' worse.  Really disgustin' stuff.

'Spose the ken will maybe 'elp me down the line 'opefully, when it comes time fer me te find Ol' Lyle an' seek vengeance upon 'im fer the attrocities 'e's committ'd.  Bes' te ken one's enemies an' all that.  Ah'll bide my time wit' that Drow too, an' one day ah'll put 'im in the ground fer twistin' Lilly's 'ead like 'e done.  One day...