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Crayne looks to Hannibal and the rest of the group, "I think I should go in there and see what I can find out. Perhaps Hannibal could come in too! With the advantage of being invisible overhearing things is always a good possibility. If I can spot Jordice then perhaps I can lure him out of the pub. I have this spell you see that I gained from one of the scrolls that we found in the Raimead mountains following the defeat of the Umber Hulk. It was Dire's scroll I seem to recollect. Anyhow, remember he used to create lots of illusions. Well, I can now do that too! I can even add some sounds too! So, presuming that Emerson, Paros' student, isn't in the pub, what if I was to cast this spell and create the illusion of Emerson. I could then have Emerson enter into the pub achieve Jordice's attention and then have him beckon Jordice over. Emerson could then leave the pub with the curious Jordice following. Then I could lead the illusion around the side of the pub whereby you could jump on him. What do you think?" Crayne asks raising his eyebrows.

Crayne then speaks up again before anyone can butt in, "Alternatively! I could use my cunning abilities and add some sleeping potion that I created recently to Jordice's drink. Just enough for him to start feeling very weary and force him to retreat home for the night!"

Hannibal listens skeptically. He wasn't about to let Crayne get into too big of a mess, even if his powers were growing. If there was one thing he knew, a well trained and suspicious assassin could eliminate even the most powerful wizard with the flick of the knife.

Elloharin then speaks up. "Please. You do not trust me yet. This I know. I understand. None in this city know me. I shall be invisible without magic. Let me go in first. I will sit down at the bar and wait. If anything goes wrong, you will have an extra sword inside. Furthermore, my elven ears are more keen than yours. I will hear all that passes."

A moment of silence falls upon the party as Elloharin glances around, looking to see how his proposal is met. 'He assumes too much,' Hannibal thinks to himself as he strokes several days of growth on his face. The idea of having a face that could not be associated with the Six, however, was still a valid point nonetheless.

"And yet I see you trust me not even in this little task," Elloharin surmises aloud. "Then allow me to enter with another. Perhaps...the dwarfling..."

Immediately Hannibal cringes at that word again; did this Elf have no common sense?! Quickly but discreetly Hannibal flanks the party until he is standing next to Storm. As he knew would happen, Storm's fists clench and his muscles twitch. Covertly Hannibal places his arm on the "Dwarfling's" shoulder and mutters into his ear in thieves cant, "Easy friend, he's just a pup."

Storm fumes as he is called a dwarfling again. He takes half a step forward, a small growl coming from his gut. Then Hannibal's hand is on his shoulder, and he is somewhat calmed. He replays Elloharin's comments over in his head, but concentrates on the pressure on his shoulder, holding back the belittling he feels the elf truly deserves.

"Ye call me a dwafling again, elf," he says softly but so all can hear, "an' I'll gladly make ye a foot shorter." He stares right at Elloharin, a quint in his eyes.

"An unseemly couple I know," Elloharin continues, unaware of Hannibal and Storm's exchange, "but perhaps our presence together would detract notice from any doings of yours. Besides, dwarf, you owe me a drink after that wollup you gave me."

"Aye elf," he replies with a chuckle, "maybe's I do. But ye owe me one first," he quips, referring the first light punch he received on the face before introducing Elloharin to his boot, as well as all the comments since then.

Hannibal, for a moment, thought to slap the juvenile himself but fought that urge back, it would accomplish nothing. Stealing the moment, and no doubt having to squeeze on Storm's shoulder a bit harder, Hannibal quickly speaks, addressing Crayne.

"The illusion idea sounds good, let's go with that. I will take this one," Hannibal motions to Elloharin, "with me and we will keep an eye on things from the inside." Turning to the new kid, Hannibal smiles, "Besides kid, if I let you go in with our favorite little Dwarfling here," in saying this he slaps the stout on the shoulder mockingly, "You probably would not come out. Guess that means you are stuck with me." That said he turns back to the group as a whole. "You all stay close and be ready, when we bring out our friend then give him the special treatment, okay?"

Crayne nods at Hannibals words, "So be it!" Crayne says, "Don't fail me Elloharin the Dimmed!"

Crayne then turns to Hannibal, "If possible when in the pub indicate to me in some manner which one you know to be Jordice if you spot him! I think it safer for you to stay within the bar for leaving the pub might cause further suspicion. I will be watching through the window over there!" Crayne points to one of the windows.

Having listened to everyone's ideas and comments, Emma finally offers her own advice. "Crayne," she says, "Wait. I'm not sure how much control you have over this illusion that you intend to cast, but it seems to me you would have a better chance of making it believable if you could hear what's happening around it to make it react in a credible manner. I'm not sure you'd be able to do that from the window because you can't hear what someone might say to Emerson...and a mere gesture from him, isn't very likely to invoke a lot of trust and get them to follow him outside."

She turns to look at everyone else and continues, "Hannibal and Elloharin entering the tavern makes sense...but I think you should go in as well...not necessarily invisible, but that might add to the effect. If you were invisible, you could stick close to your illusion of Emerson and have him speak and react accordingly. What if you had him carry in another sack of coins and look around the tavern in a confused manner as if trying to find Jordice again. Walk him around the room long enough for Jordice to recognize him. Someone has to approach him eventually. If you're invisible and close enough to hear the ensuing conversation, you can have him respond clearly enough to get them to follow him outside. Perhaps he could tell them that his master has accompanied him, has some questions about the validity of the coins, and awaits them outside. If they think it's Paros that has come to meet with them for some reason, they'll be more inclined to come with Emerson instead of ushering him into some back room to discuss the money.

"Hannibal? Elloharin? Keep an eye out for Crayne while he's sticking close to the illusionary Emerson," she suggests, "We don't want him getting tangled up in anything while he's invisible. With his keen ears, Elloharin ought to be able to tell when Crayne has convinced Jordice with Emerson's words. Then, when he and Emerson lead Jordice outside, you can follow them out. With you flanking the Blood Clansman from behind, we'll stand a better chance of capturing him when he comes face to face with the rest of us.

"If something should go wrong, it's up to Hannibal and Elloharin to follow close behind and also inform the rest of us," she finishes, "The success of this plan rests completely in your hands."

The priestess looks toward Cy and asks for his opinion, "What do you think? A tactically sound plan, Cavalier?"

"Given the situation," Cy begins, shifting his weight so that he stands squarely facing the priestess, "it might work. Things seem a bit unpredictable in there, so we cannot possibly account for all contingencies, as much as us tacticians might seek to."

Naeron chuckles at Cy's comments. He hadn't been with the group very long, but he had surely picked up on that point!

"But as important as the action inside the pub, we outside must also be prepared to strike. I recommend taking up position in that alley over there," he motions to a narrow alley between the pub and the next, darkened building. "Leading Jordice out of the bar and around the corner will give is a smaller space in which to jump on him, cut down on his routes of escape, and cut down on the angles at which onlookers can witness our deed."

"Well put, Cy," Canter says with a smile. "Some of us remember what happened last time we battled in the open street..." Canter raises his open hands and shurgs, a sly smile on his face. Cy smiles too, looking to Emma and remembering their harsh words after their last battle on the streets of this city, that fateful encounter with the Blood Clan. The day they lost Guilliam.

Crayne nods, "Your words ring true, Emma! I was a little wary of all three of us entering the bar, that is all. But, seeing as Elloharin is so eager to prove himself then I suppose I shall have to succumb to his wishes. I just hope this works, that's all!"

Storm then whispers back in thieves cant to Hannibal: "Aye, ye be right, he do be just a pup. A pup who be needin' a wallop anyways." Storm chuckles again and moves off to the edge of the group as the elf and the thief look to the pub.

Turning back to face the pub, Crayne sees one of the bartenders open the pub door to let some fresh air in. A big waft of hot air pours out into the street. Crayne smiles, pleased with his luck. "Ok!" he turns to Hannibal and Elloharin, "Let us move!"

Crayne heads off to a place of seclusion and casts himself invisible. He then quickly runs up to Hannibal and Elloharin who make their way over to the entrance. Once inside, Crayne stays close to the walls and near the entrance. He waits for Hannibal and Elloharin to pick up the scent of Jordice.

Hannibal and Elloharin step through the open door and soon stop in their tracks. The place is packed and they are met with a wall of people standing around, talking (quite loudly), and holding drinks. The fire in the corner is roaring, and just louder than that is the bard just next to the fireplace, singing up a storm and accompanying himself on the lute. But the music doesn't carry too far, for the patrons are all trying their hardest to talk over the fire, the music, and the other patrons, creating a charged environment.

Looking to the bar, Hannibal and Elloharin spot to empty stools beside each other, at the end of the bar closest to the wall with the windows. Sitting down at these last two seats, the bartender quickly makes his way toward them.

"What'll it be?" he shouts over the cacophony of patronage.

"Hardest ale you got," Hannibal yells back.

"Ya got Elven Wine?" Elloharin asks loudly. A few heads turn down the bar at the question. Hannibal is at first annoyed and a bit unnerved by the attention, but soon realizes that it is best they get the attention so that Crayne can pull off his trick without too much interference.

"Ya, an ale and an elfwine. Gimme a minute," the bartender shouts back as he grabs two empty goblets from the bar and places them along the back counter. "May!" he shouts to a barmaid wiping down the counter nearby, "another round of ciders for the table in the corner. Move!" He places a hard, open-palmed swat on May's backside. Jumping away from the bartender, the maid squeaks and grabs a tray, placing a round of goblets on top and moving to fill them with some cider.

"You spot 'im yet?" Hannibal asks his partner, keeping his voice low.

Elloharin narrows his eyes as he continues to scan the room. "Not yet...keep my ears open..."

Crayne, meanwhile, manages to get himself into the bar and takes up a position just to the left of the door, along the wall, between the door and window. He watches Hannibal and the new kid, Elloharin, for some kind of signal. Or at least a look of recognition on their faces.

At the same time, outside the bar, Naeron leads the group across the street and into the alley. With the sun having set a few hours before, much of the alley is in shadow, especially when compared with the light emanating from the pub's open door and windows.

"Canter, Naeron, take up position along that wall," Cy orders, motioning to the left side of the alley. With a nod, Canter and Naeron do just that, drawing their weapons along the way.

Cy continues, surveying the battlefield and his resources. "Storm, you and Karelth, back there," he points to the back of the short alley, where there are a few barrels behind which they could kneel and hide.

"Aye," Storm acknowledges, a smile painting his face as he looks to Karelth and leads the elder spellcaster down the alley.

"Emma, you and I should wait here," Cy concludes, motioning to the right side of the alley, just across from Canter and Naeron. Between the four of them, plus Storm in the back (Karelth's powers in battle are at this point unknown, though he does wear the Ring of Water Control), they should easily capture Jordice solo. To say nothing of Crayne, Hannibal, and Elloharin's support from behind enemy lines.

"It would be ironic," Emma whispers to the Cavalier, kneeling by her side, resting his back along the outer wall of the pub, "if we could position ourselves atop something, just as the Attender did when he met us."

"Tis a shame, priestess," Cy says with wry smile, "there is little irony tonight. Just cold winter wind."

"Anything?" Hannibal asks Elloharin for the third time in five minutes.

"Nothing yet," Elloharin whispers in reply. "If you would keep quiet. It's hard enough for me to hear in this place without you yelling in my ear!"

Hannibal growls, almost silently, and looks back into his half-empty glass. 'Better finish this soon,' he tells himself, 'before we actually do find this Jordice.'

Crayne is growing impatient, standing near the doorway and watching Elloharin and Hannibal. To say nothing about dodging unsuspecting patrons, lest they bump into him while he is standing there, invisible! Becoming frustrated, he slowly and carefully makes his way toward his comrades' seats at the bar. Standing just behind and between Elloharin's and Crayne's seats, he leans forward and whispers in Hannibal's ear:

"Where is he?"

Hannibal springs his head up, nearly dropping his glass on the bar. But he regains control of himself. He turns to his left, toward Elloharin.

The elf spies the thief, his eyes narrowed. "Would you please be quiet?" he insists.

"No, you fool..." Hannibal replies, grabbing Elloharin's arm and pulling him closer, to make it appear as if the two of them are whispering. But then Hannibal actually addresses Crayne, whose voice he recognizes. "This was not part of the plan," he says.

"Waiting this long was not part of the plan!" Crayne replies.

"Perhaps you should begin your illusion now," Elloharin suggests, doing his best to look at Hannibal while talking to Crayne. "Perhaps Jordice will make himself known once he sees Emerson."

"Fine with me," Hannibal says, nervous and impatient.

"Very well," Crayne replies, removing his invisible hands from Elloharin and Hannibal's shoulders.

Soon the image of Emerson, whom only Crayne and Hannibal recognize (until Hannibal points him out to Elloharin), appears in the window, then at the door. The wizard's apprentice walks in, his pale skin and nervous posture immediately apparent.

Emerson looks around the room, raising two small burlap sacks to his chest and clutching them tightly. He moves his head around in short, jerky motions and his eyes dart to and fro, frantically searching.

"Brilliant," Elloharin whispers to Hannibal upon watching the illusion.

Hannibal nods in reply. "Crayne is quite skilled, and a bit of a showman at heart..."

Crayne, meanwhile, makes his way back toward Emerson, standing just behind the illusion and looking through it in order to see exactly what it "sees."

A moment later, a man rises from the bar, all the way at the opposite end from Hannibal and Elloharin's seats. In fact, this man had been sitting in the last seat, his back against the far wall, with a view of the entire room. Lowering his goblet to the bar and rising to his full height, the man keeps his eyes locked on Emerson, who remains standing just inside the doorway clutching the bags.

The man is a little over six feet tall. His black hair is straight, brushed straight back and running about midway down his neck. His beard is dark and full, though trimmed. He wears a dark brown cloak, with the hood pulled back and resting behind. The cloak is not tied in front, but sways calmly as the man slides off the stool. Just inside the robe, Hannibal catches a glimpse of something shiny. A sword pommel, perhaps? It was hard to tell.

The man makes his way toward Emerson, never letting the illusion out of his sight.

"I think we just found him," Hannibal says to Elloharin, rising from his seat but not moving yet. Elloharin does the same.

"Emerson," the man says, approaching the illusion (and Crayne).

"J-Jordice," Emerson replies tentatively.

Jordice's eyes narrow and he cocks his head to the side, asking, "What are you doing here?"

"I b-brought these s-sacks. My m-m-master wants to t-t-talk to you..."

"This is most strange," Jordice replies, looking over Emerson closely. "Are those the sacks I gave you just the day before last?" Emerson nods, not making a verbal reply. "And your master, Paros, wants to talk about it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Why would the Lord High Wizard deal with such petty things? Why can't you talk about it?"

Emerson, reflecting Crayne's inner state, is momentarily at a loss for words. How many lies would have to tell? What more could he say? Thinking quickly, Crayne comes up with at least one more. "P-Paros is waiting for you...outside."

Jordice straightens up, straightening the folds of his cloak. He replies in a low voice, implying seriousness. "If I must. Show me."

Without replying, Crayne and Emerson turn around, heading for the door. Hannibal and Elloharin begin to do the same in as nonchalant a manner as they can. But it is Elloharin who first notices it. From one of the tables near the back wall, another figure rises. It could be just another patron, perhaps calling it a night and readying himself for the walk home. But the way this patron's eyes follow Emerson and Jordice to door, Elloharin can tell that he has some interest in them.

Elloharin pokes Hannibal, motioning with a shake of his head toward this other patron across the room. There are many people in the way, and a large group of drunken traders have stopped in their journey from the bar back to a table, so Hannibal doesn't have a clear line of sight. Still Hannibal notes the man's youthfulness, as well as his dark blue robe. Why he was paying particular attention to the scene with Jordice, Hannibal could yet tell.

Soon Emerson is leading Jordice out into the street, casting long shadows beyond them as the warm light from the pub bleeds eclipses their figures, emerging through the doorway.

"This way..." Emerson says quietly, turning right and heading toward the alley. Crayne is careful to stay close to his illusion so as not to become entangled with Jordice, lest he ruin the entire ruse.

Hannibal and Elloharin, however, wait another moment as they watch this second, obscured figure rise from his seat and make his way to the door. As they near him at the door, they almost collide. In a polite manner, Elloharin extends his empty hand toward the door and bows slightly. "After you, good sir," he says in his most polite tone.

With a curt nod, this second smiles, then turns toward the door. It was that smile that did it, though. Hannibal wasn't sure, but he had an inkling. This man looked just like Emerson! A bit more relaxed, but the facial figures and the robe were quite similar.

Thoughts begin to race through Hannibal's head like a white-capped rapid. Their plan hadn't take into account the possibility of the real Emerson showing up! Placing a hand on his weapon, Hannibal moves into position behind the real Emerson, with Elloharin alongside.

They follow the real Emerson out the door. The real Emerson then stops, looking around in a focused, determined fashion. Then he spots Jordice as he heads along the building toward the alley, and slowly begins to head in that direction as well. As he walks, however, Hannibal and Elloharin begin to have difficulty focussing on him. The outline of his figure begins to shimmer, to waver and shift. Elloharin blinks a couple of times, trying to refocus, but soon realizes that it is impossible. He can still see Emerson, but exactly where he is and how he is moving is extremely difficult, though he could swear Emerson has raised his hands and pointed toward Jordice...

"I am here, now, Emerson. Where is he?" Jordice demands as he stands in the center of the alley, not yet noticing Rinder's Six positioned in the shadows around him.

Emerson stands directly in front of him, facing the Clansman. "Paros will be here, soon enough..." he says, lowering his chin.

At that moment, Cy springs from his hiding spot along the wall, flinging himself at Jordice's side. The Cavalier's broadsword slashes at Jordice, yet what looked like it would be a perfect hit seems to glance off of Jordice as he turns around to face Cy's oncoming attack.

At that moment Canter emerges from the other side, hoping to land a solid blow on Jordice's back, or hit him hard enough to at least take him down. But Jordice spins around, drawing a long, cylindrical weapon from within his cloak. Its handle sparkles in the starlight, but the spiked ball attached to the other end by a short chain meets Canter's sword out in front of him with one fluid motion. Canter's sword is tossed aside and ripped from his hands, landing in the street and sliding through a puddle, emitting a loud scraping noise as it slides across the cobblestones.

Naeron is next, his footman's mace drawn to match Jordice's flail. With a side-swiping motion, Naeron swings his mace through the air. But Jordice jumps, evading the weapon and allowing it to whoosh by without hitting him. He senses movement behind him, and with a quick glance over his shoulder catches sight of Emma rushing in, broad sword drawn. Jordice jumps aside, allowing Emma's momentum to carry her past his position--and directly toward Naeron!

The half-elf diplomat dives out of the way of Emma's sword as she tries her hardest to stop herself on the wet, icy street.

Just then the illusion of Emerson disappears, a small spark popping in mid air where it once stood. And then, suddenly, Crayne is visible! Crayne stands up, eyes wide, from his crouched position just behind where his illusion once stood. The mage narrows his eyes as he looks beyond the battle taking place just before him to the shifting and shimmering image of another figure at the beginning of the alley.

"Crayne, out the way!" Storm screams as he charges out from his position into the fray. Crayne would have taken a moment to study this new figure, who he suspects is responsible for both the disillusion of his apparition and his invisibility, but Storm's warning wakes him from his reverie.

Ducking down quickly, and just in time, Crayne can feel the gush of wind as Storm leaps clear over his head. The dwarf's sword are square out in front of him, and he launches his attack before his feet even land on the alley floor. Jordice may have been able to evade four previous attackers, but he just isn't quick enough to fight off a fifth. That point is driven home as Storm's blades strike his chest, one after another, the force of which send him stumbling backwards.

Hearing the battle begin around the corner, Hannibal and Elloharin break into a sprint. "Get him!" Hannibal yells as he heads straight for the shifty image of the real Emerson pointing into the alley. He lunges forward, but soon finds himself sliding painfully across the street, having missed the blurry figure completely. Elloharin decides not to dive for him, but draws his long sword and presses the attack. He finds that unsuccessful, however, as his blade strikes nothing but the air beside the real Emerson.

Then, running from across the street, another, new figure on the scene. Her hair drifts behind her in the breeze as she runs, bastard sword drawn. "Stop!" she screams.

But the real Emerson doesn't stop. He immediately points a finger forward, at Storm, and two missiles streak through the air, striking the dwarf in the chest and throwing him backwards into the alley. (7 hp damage)

Jordice then jumps forward, flail at the ready, and lashes out at Cy. His attack hits the warrior hard on the shoulder with a loud clang. (4 hp damage) But the time spent on the attack was too much. Naeron senses the opening in Jordice's defense and plunges his mace forward, jabbing Jordice in the side quarter, easily cracking a rib. Emma, armed with her flail, also strikes, hitting Jordice on the back of the neck with considerable force. Jordice falls to his knees, his eyes watching Crayne intently.

He drops his weapon and raises his hands, speaking angrily. "Whoever you are, this will not be forgotten."

"Eh," Canter says, standing over the surrendered Clansman, "forget this!" And with incredible strength, Canter lands a crushing blow on the back of Jordice's head with the butt of his sword, sending Jordice face forward in the muck and ice of the street, knocked out.

But the battle is far from over. Hannibal rises from the ground, only to be met with the stunning image of this new fighter on the scene, her hair flowing behind her, weapon drawn. In the only move he has time for, he raises his blade in a defensive posture, blocking her attack and saving his neck.

"I will cut you down to size--all of you!--like the muggers and thieves you are!" she declares, kicking Hannibal in the chest to separate herself from him.

Meanwhile, Emerson has turned on Elloharin. He quickly pulls out something from inside his robe--though with his image effectively blurred it is nearly impossible to tell what--and throws it at the elf. Soon enough, however, Elloharin can tell what it is: a dagger. Jumping aside, Elloharin allows the dagger to fly past him, though it was a close call. He follow's the daggers path as it comes to rest on the ground about ten feet behind him. Then he whips his head back to face Emerson, but he is gone!

"Muggers? Thieves?" Emma spits, looking up from Jordice's body to that of the woman fighting Hannibal near the street. "We are the farthest thing from it!" The priestess is enraged, and begins marching toward Hannibal and his foe with determination and fury in her steps.

The woman turns away from Hannibal to face Emma, holding her sword in front of her with both hands, but not attacking. "Not thieves? Then what do you call this?!" she screams, motioning with her eyes to Jordice's body.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Hannibal says, panting and rushing to the scene to repay this new foe's attack. But Emma's outstretched hand stops him.

Looking into this girl's eyes, Emma reads into her soul. Much to the priestess' surprise, she cannot find the smirch of evil upon it. And so with her mind made up, she takes a step closer, setting her jaw and determined to stare this upstart down.

"I call this justice."

And with that, Emma looks to Hannibal. That one look was all he needed, and with a swift blow, he strikes this girl hard in the back of the head. She falls forward, weakened and knocked out, into Emma's arms. Catching her, Emma looks to Hannibal and smiles. "Nice work," she says, pushing the girl's body up and toward Hannibal. "Bind her, if you could. She needs to come with us."

Then Emma looks to Elloharin, and begins to march in his direction. "Who was that you were fighting?" she demands.

"I...I don't know..." Elloharin replies, at a loss for words.

"I know." The voice is Crayne's. "That," he says with authority while brushing some dirt off his clothes, "was Emerson."

Emma's eyes widen as she realizes the implications. "And he got away..." she says, securing her flail on her belt with a short, strong and frustrated motion. "Curses."

Looking over the rest of the situation, Emma makes a decision. "Let us get out of here. We've accomplished the objective; we've got Jordice. I'd like to take him to the Temple where we can keep him under lock and key. We'll question him there."

"And her?" Hannibal asks, holding the bound, unconscious girl in his arms.

"She comes too. She's seen too much."

"Your grace," Emma says, standing across from Towers, "I humbly apologize for waking you at this hour. But I have faith you understand this is a cause worthy of our best efforts."

Towers nods, yawning in his nightrobes and rubbing his eyes. "I understand, Emmalya. Fallon saw to that," he nods to Fallon, standing apart from the group with a smile on his face, arms crossed.

Jordice had been manacled with chains stronger than the hemp rope Storm had supplied. He had been healed, so in a few hours he'd be ready for questioning. And the girl had begun to stir just as Towers arrived.

"Towers," Canter steps forward, "this one attacked us as we were apprehending Jordice. She seemed to think we were the aggressors--"

"Well I suppose we were..." Naeron says dryly, yawning and sitting on a nearby pew in the main sanctuary.

"--Well, yes, I suppose. But her motives seemed just."

"And," Hannibal adds, "she was quite a fighter."

"I will speak with her," Towers says with a calm smile, "in the morning." He then turns to Fallon, "Fallon, see to it their wounds are addressed and that they have accommodation for the night. I have a meeting in the morning with the Duke's Master Chamberlain and his staff regarding the coronation; I will return here straight away following that. Perhaps then we can get some answers, as I'm sure you all have plenty of questions."

"Thank you, your holiness," Emma says with a bow. Towers smiles to her, and then with a look toward the girl, leaves the sanctuary to return to his private chambers.

"Your wounds," Fallon begins, "I will see to it they are healed." He takes a look at Storm's chest, having the dwarf sit down while the cleric calls upon the spirit of Anhur for the Ritual of Healing.

"We should all get some rest for the night," Cy says, looking around at his tired troupe. "We have done well tonight."

Emma nods and smiles to the Cavalier. "Yes, we have."

Morning arrives to find most of Rinder's Six sleeping late, recuperating from the past evening's activities. Emma rises early, though, to pray with the morning gathering. Traditional rituals and litanies are performed, led by one of the other priests (as Towers is off at the meeting at the castle), and though it is strange to be led in prayer--especially by this unfamiliar voice--it is calming to once again be at peace in a Temple of Anhur.

Praying with Emma is Fallon, who specifically chooses the seat next to the Shield Maiden. With a soothing smile she welcomes his presence, and though they don't share any conversation, she views his choice as an act of support.

She also notices another new figure in their midst, a man. He is quite tall, well over six feet, and sits straight-backed in his seat. He seems to be at attention at all times, whether sitting, listening, or kneeling and praying. He is impeccably clean. Though she is unfamiliar with many of the acolytes in the temple, this one seems to stand apart.

By the end of the service, Emma returns to the sublevels of the temple to rejoin the others. They are all well rested; even Storm looks better after his encounter with Emerson's Magic Missiles.

Soon, the High Priest Towers returns from his meeting. Surprisingly, he has Gladstone with him, walking just over his shoulder and a step behind. Naeron greets his friend and comrade in arms with a wide smile and a warm embrace. Emma, on the other hand, sports a slightly confused look, but figures Towers will explain himself in time.

"First," Towers begins, "matters of business. I met this morning with the Master Chamberlain, Gladstone, here, and the Duke himself. We discussed the coronation, as planned. But our conversation then shifted to Rinder's Six."

A wave of surprise sweeps over those in the room. Even Storm seems more interested in the conversation, and Hannibal, normally aloof during such encounters, pays close attention.

"Your holiness," Cy says cordially, "at what conclusions did you arrive?"

"Firstly, Cyveiliog, we arrived at a conclusion regarding you." Cy is taken aback, indeed, surprised by the High Priest's response. "You see, Cyveiliog," there have been some threats as of late, against the life of the Duke. And he has expressed his concerns with regard to security at the coronation. He wants an honor guard to accompany him to Merriam for the event, a special troupe in addition to the regulars who will be travelling with him."

Towers takes a step closer to Cy, placing his hands on the Cavalier's shoulders. "Cyveiliog, your King is requesting that you be awarded the rank of Captain, and that you accept the task of leading his honor guard."

There is a moment of silence throughout the chamber as Cy swallows deeply. There is a tear in his eye as waves of honor and remorse alternate through his body and mind. He could restore honor to his name, rise above the station of mercenary, and serve his king directly. But at the same time, he would be leaving Rinder's Six, his friends and companions for months. How could he do such a thing?

Agony is the word that best describes Cyveiliog McKinely's emotional state as he looks past Towers and into the eyes of his friends. Canter's look of despair meets and matches his own. Crayne looks to his feet, clearly upset by the proposal, but aware that it is for the best.

"Cyveiliog, the King would like you to see to the revival of an ancient order. He would like you to see to the restoration of the Cavaliers."

That is too much. Overwhelmed by honor and joy, Cy kneels down in front of Towers, his arm across his chest and his head bent. "It would be an honor to serve my king and country, to restore the order of the Cavaliers of Anhur to our realm, and to my family." Then he rises, the formal salute of the Cavaliers, once a lost and dying order, now bolstered by a new sense of optimism, completed.

He looks to his friends and comrades. "Friends--Canter, Storm, Hannibal, Crayne, and Emma--mine words can ne'er express the gratitude in mine heart. Then he looks to Elloharin and Naeron. "Take care of my friends. See to it they are strong of will, insurmountable on the battlefield, and just of heart. Elloharin, Naeron, may the blessings of the gods go with you; with all of you."

"Actually," Gladstone says, stepping forward as Towers steps back away from the group. "I have something to say to you, too, Naeron Thess."

Naeron's head snaps up from his reverie. He had not spent nearly as much time with Rinder's Six as Cy had, but he was feeling the pain of the warrior's loss, and the joy that accompanies his honor as well. But what news could his old friend Gladstone bring at this time?

"Sir Bryant," Gladstone begins, standing squarely in front of Naeron, "has issued the order. You are to be recalled to his service, to his administration. He has specified that in honor of your family and your loyal and outstanding service to his lordship, you be stationed as Master Chamberlain here in Raimead when Bryant moves to Merriam. You will, for all intents and purposes, be the King's voice in his native duchy."

Naeron's half-elven draw drops. His father would be so proud! But, as with Cy, he feels the loss of his friends. "I will never disappoint my lord."

Then, Naeron Thess looks to his friends. "My history in this proud group does not extend as far as that of our friend, Cyveiliog. But I want each one of you to know that it has been an honor serving with you. And that you will always be welcome at the Castle in Parton, indeed, in all of Raimead." With that, Naeron looks directly to Elloharin, and in Elven says to the newcomer, "Take care of them for me..."

"We realize," Towers then says, refocussing the group, "that the loss of Captain McKinely and Master Chamberlain Thess leaves Rinder's Six with fewer numbers. In that vein, Gladstone and I have agreed," he looks to Gladstone, who nods solemnly, "that this new girl who you encountered last night will join you."

"What?!" Canter replies in protest.

"She attacked us!" Hannibal says sternly.

Towers nods, "Indeed she did. But, as Canter Tarp pointed out last night, her motives were just. Anhur's Caste believes in justice, as I'm sure the Shield Maiden Emmalya has informed you. And part of that justice is attonement and forgiveness. This girl could not see that her actions, while an attempt at justice, were in truth a hinderance to true justice. By joining your ranks, her strength will combine with yours, and your guidence will lead her on a path of truth."

That's a tough pill to swallow, and a shared glance between Canter and Hannibal proves it. Neither are happy at the prospect of being saddled with this upstart. After all, she attacked them! And had she not, Emerson might not have gotten away.

"To augment that leadership, the Temple's Highest Priests have decided--especially in light of your coming quest--that another Sword Bearer should be among your ranks." Emma whips her head up to look Towers in the eye. This was, indeed a shock. How could anyone replace Edryd of Kalt? "And so I introduce to you Skandor, freshly trained at the Temple in Seabed, along the northern coast of Raimead. He will add strength to your numbers, and will help protect you, Emmalya, during the quest's trying times ahead."

Then, the door to the chamber opens, and in steps Skandor. His tabard is displayed proudly, the symbol of Anhur clear upon it. He looks around the room, and his eyes settle on Emma. Immediately she recognizes him as the one from the morning's prayers. With a formal and polite nod, he steps forward.

"Now I will leave you all here," Towers says in conclusion, "when you are ready, Fallon will lead you down into the dungeon, where Jordice has been kept overnight. He is quite uncooperative, but given the iron bars behind which he has been locked, his...cooperation...has been contained. You may question him as you like, and then make your next plans from there.

"I understand you must resolve the issue of this Marlond diplomat, this..."

"Bernigan," Hannibal spits out the name.

"...Bernigan. And you must return to the mountains to present the Dwarven Clans with a new treaty--"

Gladstone interrupts: "Sir Bryant is aware of your concerns on the issue, and is willing to meet with you to discuss them, and to hear what proof you may present which necessitates his personal action in the matter."

"--yes of course, Gladstone," Towers says with a nod toward Gladstone Bryant's loyal Sergeant-At-Arms. "These things must all be done, and soon with great urgency, for the stability of our kingdom depends on it.

"But I implore you to begin your quest to seek out the Ring of Fire Command. Though it is a long-range strategy, we cannot win this war--indeed, we cannot insure our security and domination in the centuries to come--without this artifact. Short-term measures will not accomplish this goal.

"You have the book, Emma. And you have been charged with the tome's protection, Canter. You must all combine your strengths and talents to see to it that the Ring is recovered.

"And now, I leave you to yourselves, and to Jordice in the dungeon below..."

Please extend a warm welcome to Skandor. Please also extend a warm welcome to the half-elf (so far referred to only as "the girl") Alara.

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