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Hannibal looks around the room, scanning the area for more secret doors or compartments. Then he stops himself, for a thought has just occurred to him: "If this place has been used by the Blood Clan, and recently as Cy has discovered, how long do you think we have until someone else from the Clan stumbles in here?"

Emma's head turns quickly to give Hannibal and the rest of Rinder's Six an expression that clearly shows she'd rather not stay long enough for more Blood clansmen to arrive. They were lucky to have defeated these men in such a short amount of time...and without a single scratch, really. She seems determined to have some answers from these two, however...and projects a quiet confidence to everyone.

"I don't know," Cy replies, "But we should get what information we can out of these vermin and dispatch them before we find out."

"Agreed, Cavalier," Emma says quietly, turning back to the men seated before her.

"We have some questions for you," she addresses them, "Answer truthfully and things will go much easier. Lie to us, or try to be evasive, and you won't like the consequences." She jerks a thumb back toward the door and the alleyway, as if to imply that their lives could be ended just as easily as their dead friends.

Then she focuses her attention on just the leader. "You're called the Attender, right?" she says, her voice hard and unforgiving with an undercurrent of anger and repressed violence, "Well, attend me now, mister. Listen close. I'm a priestess of Anhur. He's the God of War. So, you know I can take you apart if I have to...we're a violent sort of caste...and we like to drink the blood of our enemies." She smiles viciously, knowing that there's a grain of truth to that claim according to the most ancient scrolls of Anhur, though she didn't feel that Anhur ever actually approved of such rites.

"He's also a god of Justice," she continues, "And he gives me the power to look into your soul and weigh it. Everyone that dies goes to the afterlife to be judged by him. If your deeds in this life are more evil than good, you are cast into the pit of Hell for all eternity. Your soul is black and twisted, Attender. I have no doubt how the scales will measure you when you die. Are you ready to taste the flames? Are they licking your feet already? Answer me truthfully tonight and maybe you'll get to put off seeing them just a little while longer."

Crayne nods at Emmas words and steps in. "Be wary, Attender, for an upset priestess of Anhur is not a scene that you would like to witness in your lifetime! Nor, I add, is an angered magician! You will be wise to answer our questions. Let it be known to you that I do enjoy testing out my new spells on hopeless subjects such as yourself. The consequences can indeed be quite ugly."

Then, as if to punctuate Crayne's remarks, Cy gives the Attender's head a strong whack from behind. The Attender's head is thrown forward by the warrior's strength, but he raises his chin in defiance. Paying the look in his eyes no heed, Emma begins the interrogation:

"There are Drow in the city. And Duke Bryant is more than a little upset. In fact, so am I...because they attacked me and my friends and we had to slay all of them," Emma states, staring at the Attender to let him know they had already faced dark elves and won against them, too. "How did they get here?" she asks, "What manner of access let them in undetected? Answer me now, or you'll join them in whatever abyss their souls have dropped into..."

"I will answer none of your questions," the Attender growls in a low voice.

Emma almost smiles, looking to Cy. Receiving his cue, he cracks his knuckles and gives the Attender another whack, a strong blow of behind.

"How did they get here?" Emma repeats, not yet raising her voice.

"I don't know," the Attender replies.

"Hmm..." Emma considers. "Wrong answer." With that she closes her fist and with a short windup, rips a punch right into the Attender's face, clearly breaking his nose and bruising his cheek.

"I don't know!" the Attender screams, sounding more desperate this time.

"Emma..." Canter says weakly, standing a few feet behind the Attender, watching the scene. Perhaps he really didn't know.

"Why are the Drow here?" Emma continues, "What kind of arrangement does the Blood Clan have with them? A business opportunity?"

"I'm not sure," the Attender begins.

"Not good enough," Emma replies, slapping him hard across the face. A small stream of blood runs down the battered Attender's chin, leaking from his nose and lip.

"I only know that there's some agreement!" he spatters, "The ore goes to them, but I don't know what we get in return. They don't share everything with the Attenders."

Sighing in disappointment, Emma considers her next question. At least this Attender confirmed the drow were getting the ore, but in exchange for what? "There's a man named Jordice. I think he meets with people at the Dragon's Tooth tavern. He's one of your's, yes?" she continues, "What kind of business does he engage in on your behalf? What business does he have with the apprentice of the Duke's wizard, Paros?"

"Jordice..." the Attender begins, looking around to make sure he is not going to get hit again, "is a special operative in the Clan. He is coordinating the deal with the drow, along with someone else who is dealing with the dwarves--I don't know who. I have no idea if the Duke's wizard is involved." He takes a deep breath, exasperated. "My only job is to see to it this section of the city is covered, to organize the street thugs and muggers. I attend to them. I report to Jordice, but I don't know the half of what he is doing.

"There's another man here in town...by the name of Bernigan," Emma says, "Another of your clansmen, right?" She stares hard at both men, challenging them to lie to her, for she knows that statement to be true, "He's well-placed in the government...a diplomat for the Duke of Marlond, I believe. He's also been meeting with the Dwarves of the Raimead Mountains, buying up their adamantine ore. He's not buying it all for himself, and it's not going to Duke Marlond either...so who is the real buyer? Your Drow friends from House D'Urdenterrad?"

Her eyes carefully measure the response from both men at the mention of the house's actual name to see if they recognize it. 'Let them think I already know most of the answers,' she reminds herself, 'Then they'll be more apt to tell the truth so they can avoid my wrath.'

"Bernigan..." the Attender repeats, "I don't know that name."

"Cy?" Emma asks.

Cy punches the Attender with a crushing blow from behind. And a second later Emma follows that up with a strike from in front, sending a shower of blood to the floor.

"I don't...know that...name..." the Attender repeats.

Storm stands with his arms folded across his barreled chest during the interrogation, pacing around the back of the crowd. He eyes the Attender every few steps, but is largely unfocused on the interrogation.

Instead, he is curious about the rest of the Blood Clan hideout. Perhaps this gang of thieves and assassins have left some valuable treasure buried in the old shop somewhere? Storm cracks a small smile as he thinks of this, and while Emma continues her interrogation of the Attender, Storm slips out the back of the group and makes his way through the house, floor by floor, looking for any secret compartments or rooms, or loose planks in the floor, etc.

Hannibal watches the proceedings with mild interest, amused at the amount of information that Emma and Crayne were hoping to pry from the Attender. Even if the man was weak minded he was no doubt a puppet to a higher influence, unable to give much info at all. Shrugging to himself, he turns his attention to Storm. The dwarf seemed to be taking an interest to the room, it's floorboards, everything. When the stout finally smiled to himself, Hannibal found himself smiling too, sure that he knew exactly what the dwarf was thinking.

"Good luck friend," Hannibal whispers to his friend, "but remember, 50-50." Smiling again, Hannibal moves to the window and proceeds to stand watch, looking for anything out of the ordinary that may signal another group of Blood Clan cronies coming to hideout.

"Several wagons have been reseved at the Teamster's Guild recently," she continues, "A very hush-hush affair. They're sturdy wagons...designed for hauling heavy things, like freshly-dug adamantine ore. They're going to close the deal with the Dwarves and then they're heading someplace secret, are they not? Where's the delivery point? And, how many of your clansmen are accompanying the wagons?"

The Attender rolls his head, weakened and broken. "Jordice told me to ready myself and five clansmen for the journey from the mine to the base of Spiked Peak...said we'd be guarding the wagons...with twenty five others..."

"How much coin have you laid out in bribes so far?" she asks, "To insure everyone turns a blind eye to these activities, you had to have paid a handsome sum. I'm sure you keep ledgers on such things. Where can we find them? How much money has changed hands and how many bribes have you handed out? Who received them? Is the Duke's wizard among them?"

"Coin?" the Attender asks, fading in and out of consciousness. "I only collect...coin...don't give out...ask Jordice..."

Storm, pacing slowly in the background, suddenly stops as he lays his foot down softly on a floorboard in the corner. It didn't sound the same as the others. Hannibal immediately notices his dwarven friend's change in posture, and leaves his spot to join Storm.

Pointing to the board at his feet, Storm whispers to Hannibal. "It be soundin' diff'rent."

Hannibal leans down to put an ear to the board. He then taps it lightly. Looking up to Storm, he smiles broadly.

Finally, the priestess turns to look at Crayne and motions him forward. "Now, we're going to let my friend here peek into your minds," she tells the thieves, "He's an accomplished wizard, very much like Paros. You can't hide anything from him. And he will let me know if you've lied to any of these questions. If you have, then you had better tell us the truth now. Otherwise, your fate is sealed. Justice will be done. And you'll be roasting in Hell tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?"

The priestess nods and steps back, giving Crayne room to cast his Charm Person spell. Maybe if he got the Attender to fall victim to the enchantment, he might offer up more information...and in a friendly manner,

rather than the forced answers she had gathered. "Let me know if they speak the truth," she tells Crayne, crossing her arms and watching with stern interest.

Crayne nods in reply to Emma's demand. He stands tall casting a long shadow against the wall behind him. His arms waver in the air for a moment as he begins to chant strange words from a distant past. He closes his eyes for a brief second and suddenly a green color flashes in the eyes of the Attender. He smiles as he moves in closer to the Attender. With his staff Crayne then prods at the Attender's chin and smiles.

"Remember me! It's your old friend!" Crayne puts his staff aside and kneels down with one foot forward. He sits there expecting a warm response. Crayne is wary, though, and decides that should the Attender lash out he will quickly grasp hold of his staff and strike him in the ankles.

"Old...friend..." the Attender repeats, not completely there.

Crayne continues, "Now my friend, tell me: The questions that Emma just asked you. Did you answer them truthfully?" Crayne then moves in closer and whispers to him, "It's okay now. If you didn't, don't worry for the woman is horrible. However, tell your old friend and I'll get you out of here!" As an afterthought Crayne then adds, "Bernigan! Is there a way we can get to him! Does he possess a weakness!" Crayne looks to Hannibal as he says this eager to help his friend if he can.

"Yes..." the Attender replies, his voice barely a whisper, "the truth. Bernigan...ask Jordice...at the tavern..." With that, the Attender's head flops down, chin to chest.

The interrogation concluded, Crayne looks to Emma. "How do you wish to conclude this affair?"

She turns back and looks thoughtfully at the Attender and his bodyguard. "Every man deserves a chance to mend his ways," she says aloud, quoting from the Scrolls of Anhur. The two men roll their heads, awakened by the tone of her voice. "This is to be your chance," she addresses the men, "For your cooperation, you'll be allowed to live. But, I caution you! If after this night you continue your nefarious deeds, you will only delay your journey into the fiery pit for a short time. For, if we should ever cross paths again, I won't be so generous. Only by changing your heart and setting a new course, can you avoid the pain and suffering that awaits you...both at my hands and the fires of Hell. See to it that you learn this lesson well."

She motions for the two men to be left lashed to their chairs, and pulls Crayne aside. "Leave them where they are," she says, "They are surely passed out for some time. And, if their friends happen to find them snoring away, so much the better. I'm sure they won't be pleased to find an Attender and his bodyguard trussed up in such a manner. They'll probably think they ratted on them...in which case, a different kind of punishment may await them after we're gone.

"Cy, Canter, Naeron?" she calls out, "Let's gather our things and be on our way. Hannibal? Storm? Check the alley and make sure we've got a way out of this place. I don't want to run into anyone and have to explain this yet...not until we're ready."

'There's a time for conquerors just,' she thinks to herself, taking stock of the situation as everyone scrambled to move out. She couldn't help but look back at the battered prisoners. She hated having to get physical like that with them. But, there was no time to be nice anymore. These thugs and assassins wanted to play rough, and they would get it back in full measure as far as she was concerned.

'Now that's justice,' she thinks, 'Dealt in equal portions according to their crimes. I'll not dwell on it any longer. There's no need to be conscientious about it when it serves a greater purpose. I just hope my soul comes through this intact and stays balanced on Anhur's scales.'

Training his eyes from Storm back to the floorboard, Hannibal reaches for the edges of the plank of wood, intending to lift it, allowing their eyes to fall on some vast cache of coin and booty. But just as his fingernails pry around the edges of the wood, the plank moves on its own!

The board blasts upward with great force, throwing Hannibal up and backwards, landing behind Storm. Jumping up from beneath the floor, immediately following the flying floorboard, is a humanoid figure. It leaps out from its hiding place, landing a solid punch on Storm's surprised face, sending the dwarf reeling backwards.

Canter and Cy whip their heads around with the sudden blast of noise. Drawing their swords, they rush to the scene. Canter reaches first, swinging his blade through the air at the cloaked figure. But his sword is met with another in midair, his attack stopped.

Cy then arrives. He notices just beneath the figure's hood the pointed tip of an ear. Immediately Cy's blood comes to boil, for this must be another drow! "Drow!" he yells, causing Emma to reach for her weapon and Storm to draw two of his swords. But thinking quickly, Cy decides a fatal strike would not be best. Instead, he opts for the calculated strike, attempting to subdue and disable the foe to save him for questioning.

And so with a swiftness and force like a winter storm, Cy pummels the butt of his sword into the foe's back. The cloaked foe arches its back, letting out an "aaarrggg!" in pain.

Seeing Cy's move, Storm arrives, just in time to land a soaring, upward kick to the cloaked foe's face as he leans forward in pain. The kick sends him flying backwards, landing on the wall with a loud "thud!" His hood thrown off, his plainly pointed ears are visible to all in the room.

But something is wrong. Emma sees it first, but Crayne articulates it. "That's no drow! He's too pale! And the hair is all wrong!"

Arriving in front of the foe, Emma draws her sword, placing the tip at the foe's chest. "Who are you?" she demands, her voice low and steady. The low light in the room casts a long dark shadow on the figure, especially considering he is surrounded. The shadows dance slowly along the wall above him, a warm yet eerie ambiance.

"My name..." the foe says weakly, exhausted and winded by the sudden onslaught, "is Elloharin, the Dimmed."

Emma is stern, quite unhappy that another clansmen could have overheard their entire interrogation. "What are you doing here?"

Elloharin, the elf, breathes quickly in shallow breaths as he tries to regain some strength. "I am looking..." he begins, "...for Rinder's Six."

Please welcome the newest character to our fair game: Elloharin, the Dimmed. Elloharin, here is a list of the main characters: Canter - human male fighter, Cyveiliog - human male fighter, Crayne - human male mage, Emmalya - human female cleric, Hannibal - human male thief, Naeron - half-elf ranger, Storm - dwarven fighter/thief.

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