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At first, Emma is a bit worried that the discussion of Rinder's Six could have been as a result of their actions on the streets of Parton. Had someone seen them? Like that girl that attacked them last night. She hopes that their reputation hasn't been damaged somehow.

Then, Cy is informed of his new position as Captain of the newly revived Cavaliers.

"Oh, Cyveiliog!" Emma finally gasps with a soft voice, obviously pleased by the announcement. It is a great honor, and something that she feels the ex-Cavalier deserves for his service to King and country. And she also realizes that it will go along way toward putting his personal demons to rest. Someone does value him, and it is the King himself!

Hannibal smiles and shakes Cy's hand warmly, "good luck friend." Inwardly of course, Hannibal cannot help but be selfish, worried for what this means for the abilities of Rinder's Six . Cy was good with a sword, there was no doubt of that, and his loss would hurt a great deal. Nonetheless, however, he is happy for the Cavalier and bids him well and good luck.

Storm blinks at Cy. 'He's leavin' us?' The thought takes a second to process, the info not quite sinking in. As Cy makes his rounds of good-byes and comes to Storm, he finally accepts the news. He stands straight and tall, though still he barely reaches the top of Cy's stomach. He clasps the human's hand in a hearty shake. "Take ye care, big man, not to be hurtin' those horses too much, eh? Leave that to us folks who weren't meant for them big beasts." He winks obnoxiously. Then, as Cy's about to move on, Storm retightens his grip on Cy's hand. "I'll be seein' ye again," he says with determination, staring the human in the eyes, a look of pure respect.

Elloharin, regarding Cy and the reception he is receiving, realizes that he hasn't spent enough time with the Six to feel any great pain or woe at the warrior's departure. He nods to Cy, saying only, "A great honor, which must be returned, with great honor."

The priestess rushes forward to hug Cy in a tight embrace. She leans her mouth close to his ear and whispers, "I told you Nire had something greater written for you in the starry sky. Edryd would be so proud, too, if he were here. No more will you be measured by the short-sightedness of those that removed you from the king's army. Measure your own self-worth by what you can accomplish with this new honor. Bring back the Cavaliers, Cyveiliog McKinley, and restore your faith in Anhur!"

She backs away, wiping at the tears in her eyes. "And you better repaint that shield!" she laughs, trying to regain her composure with a light joke. To Emma, everything has worked out so wonderfully. 'The gods themselves must have their hands in this,' she tells herself, 'And they have so generously rewarded the faithful members of Rinder's Six.'

Then Crayne says, "Best of luck to you Cy! I am sure that I speak for all of the Six when I say that we'll miss you. Not just for your skill with the sword and your battle tactics! But we will miss your presence and manner. It is more than likely that our paths will cross in the future and that day I will look forward to. Just remember when times out there get tough, that you have a good set of friends to share an ale with when this all ends!" Crayne grasps hold of Cy's hand and nods his head. "The Cavaliers will not find a better man to lead them!"

Then, it is announced that Naeron, too, will be leaving Rinder's Six.

This time, although doubly worried of their abilities now, Hannibal's smile is more sinister. He had never been fond of Naeron or his "higher than thou" attitude. For all he cared the elf could go play in his diplomatic games and leave the real work to real men. Of course, as Naeron comes toward him, Hannibal gives a like smile and says, "Good luck Naeron."

Emma's smile only widens as she gives the half-elven diplomat a hug as well. "Congratulations, Naeron," she offers, "You've been a great ally and friend...and a staunch supporter of your liege. I'm sure you'll do well in managing his duchy while he sees to Rinder's affairs."

Elloharin is surprised at Naeron's rise in station. As an elf traveling the duchy he has been the subject of much racism. To Naeron's statement, he replies in elven, "It shall be as you say great one. May your rise in station be a tribute to our race." (Even if you are only a half-elf, he adds mentally.)

Storm was never too fond of the elf, as it seems elves and dwarves haven't tended to mix real well in the last few weeks. Yet for a reason he could not finger he found that he was still sad to see the diplomat leave. His handshake to the half elf was less formal than Cy's, but sincere nonetheless. "Don't ye be stiffin' us dwarves," he says with a joking wink. "Take ye care, elf."

Crayne looks to Naeron Thess, "Our short time together has been interesting to say the least Naeron Thess! You have served Rinder's Six well and for that we appreciate! You are our friend and we wish you all the luck in your new endeavour!"

"We realize," Towers then says, refocusing the group, "that the loss of Captain McKinely and Master Chamberlain Thess leaves Rinder's Six with fewer numbers," the High Priest says. He then continues to introduce Alara and Skandor.

No sooner had Towers begun to talk than Hannibal was sighing with frustration. "Great," he mutters to Storm in Thieves Cant, "Now Towers will give us some wet-behind-the-ears hero wannabe that doesn't know his sword from a swan."

Storm leans back toward Hannibal and chuckles. "Aye. I musta missed that part when Nigel told us we's gonna be babysittin' when I signed up!" he replies in the Cant. Storm laughs loudly at his own joke, drawing annoyed and curious looks from those in the room, especially Towers. Storm, of course paying it no heed, just stands there as if nothing had happened.

He is, however, quite surprised at the news of the new companions. These two random people were to join them--along with the already random and unexpected joining of Elloharin, someone Storm seemed to immediately be at ends with--and the group was expected to take it? Storm was truly miffed at this news. After all, Sir Nigel was the governing force of Rinder's Six, not Towers or the caste of Anhur. Who did they think they were, 'assigning' us two new people?

Storm leans back to Hannibal, again speaking in Thieves Cant quietly. "What be goin' on here? Ain't Nigel the one be givin' us new folks?"

As the party is about to be introduced to Skandor, the girl from the night before is lead into the room by one of the temple's guards. She stands uncomfortably at the back of the room.

Disgusted with the decision, something suddenly dawns on Hannibal and a troubled look crosses his face. Kneeling over, he speaks quietly in Common to Storm, motioning to the new girl.: "Uh, you don't think she's gonna be mad at me do ya?"

Storm begins laughing again, then manages to respond quietly. "Depends on how big a bump she be gettin' on her noggin!" He breaks out in hideous laughter again, drawing more serious looks from those in the room this time. Storm catches on finally, though, and quiets down, though he laughs for a while under his breath.

Emma's mood alters just slightly at this announcement. Somehow it seems unusual to decree such a thing for the half-elven girl when she isn't present to accept. Had Towers already spoken with her? Did he consult with Anhur through another Commune? Who was she anyway?

"I have no doubts of the girl's soul," Emma speaks to the High Priest, "But is this wise?" The look she receives from Towers is enough to perceive that she should keep her opinions and questions unvoiced. He has obviously made his decision on the matter. Besides, Emma has seen that look often enough from the high priests when they've had enough of her philosophies...a condescending attitude that always rubbed her raw, as if they didn't want to take her seriously, as if she wasn't old enough or wise enough to understand the big picture yet. And, at times, they had been proven right, she knew. So, Emma sighs and keeps quiet. Time would tell if this was the right choice. She just hoped the girl had been consulted first.

As her eyes fall upon Skandor, Emma's mouth moves in an, "Oh..." shape as she recognizes the man. But then she recalls Towers words. 'Freshly trained,' she thinks, instantly having her doubts about this choice as well. Without realizing it, she actually shares some of Hannibal's visions of welcoming two 'green' members to Rinder's Six. Would this Skandor truly augment their leadership and provide protection? Emma sighs again. 'Time will tell,' she reminds herself, 'Besides, I don't think Towers in a mood to debate such issues this morning.'

Once Skandor joins the group, the priestess finally steps forward to welcome him. After all, the rest of Rinder's Six would probably show him a more wary acceptance...so she might as well try to make up for that by putting on a happier face. She holds out her hand to shake his, saying, "Nice to have you with us. I'm Emmalya Serralund of Seden, priestess and Shield-Maiden of Anhur." She proceeds to introduce everyone else to make him feel more at ease.

Skandor begins to bow as Emma approaches, but as she offers her hand, he stands straight and rigid, at attention, and accepts it quickly, firmly. Looking her directly in the eye, his gaze remains emotionless. "It is truly an honor to meet you, Shield Maiden. I have been told much about you. Anhur has decided in His great wisdom that I accompany you, and this task I accept with great honor."

Emma nods and gives a half-smile, quite perplexed at how formal this particular Sword-Bearer seems. 'Not so much like Edryd,' she thinks to herself, 'But in time, perhaps he'll loosen up...'

"Nire as well must have laid this path for you," she says, "For it is often his hand that moves the stars that define our future. But I am glad to make your acquaintance and welcome you to Rinder's Six."

As Emma introduces the other members of her group, Skandor's gaze first locks onto the eyes and face of each one, as if committing them to memory. He visually inspects them: their gear, their visible weapons, their outward appearance. He gives each one, regardless of their reaction (good or bad), a respectful nod, doubting that they'd be eager to shake his hand quite yet.

Skandor is well over 6' tall, and is muscular and well-built. He has short black hair, which is best described as "spikey". He is clean-shaven, no facial hair whatsoever. His eyes are deep green. He wears a suit of chain mail on his torso and legs. His tabard is proudly emblazoned with the symbol of his deity. He carries a backpack, and at his belt are two small pouches and the scabbard for a dagger and short sword. On his back he carries his two-handed sword. His holy symbol dangles on a silver chain at his neck. Tucked under one arm is a steel helmet, and by all appearances, he is ready, at this moment, to begin a long journey, or stand before an inspection of his superiors.

Emma's dress is a bit more subdued than his Skandor's, the priestess notices. Although she usually wears a white tabard over her chain-armor with the Scales of Anhur proudly displayed, lately she's found it more useful to hide such an easily recognized garment in her pack. Instead, she has on a dark blue tunic cinched tightly around her waist with a scarlet sash. For freedom of movement, she wears dark grey breeches and sturdy boots. A light horseman's flail is strapped down by her belt, and the scabbard for her broadsword hangs from it as well. Sometimes, she carries a spear with her, but for the time being has replaced that with a short bow which she is slowly learning to use.

Today, Emma's long sandy-blonde hair is swept back and pinned up with some tortoise shell combs she bought in the markets of Parton. Two golden earrings, molded in the shape of a tiny sun, dangle from her ears. And, of course, her unorthodox holy symbol hangs from a tight black cord around her neck. The pendant appears as a miniature sphere composed of interlocking golden rings with small gaps between them. The hollowed center of the sphere cradles a small ruby that occasionally sparkles in the light. Emma's physical characteristics amount to those of a slim, athletic, and attractive young woman. She is approximately 5 feet 8 inches, maybe 135 pounds, and is only 22 years old. Contrary to what many people expect of a priestess of Anhur, Emma does not appear to be exceptionally muscular. In fact, she barely meets the minimum strength and endurance requirements for her caste. Instead, she makes up for that deficiency with her quickness, intelligence, wisdom, and natural charm. And, also, there's an inner fire that always seem to fuel her actions on the battlefield. She obviously has a strong will, high self-esteem, and a dominant spirit.

Again Hannibal rolls his eyes. "Typical," he mutters to himself, his morning now completely ruined. "A green sword bearer and a bitter amazon...figures."

Elloharin has no reaction to the girl or the sword bearer. He just watches suspiciously. He does not understand how easily these friends give up their other companions. He wonders if he will be as easily forgotten.

Then Storm meets the newcomers. Skandor steps up to him rather formally at Emma's side, and she introduces Skandor to him. Storm looks up into the huge man's face, almost two feet higher than Storm's, and nods. He keeps his hands folded across his chest, not offering a shake, as he is dubious to this newcomer. As the two match stares, Storm spits out the side of his mouth, almost to spite the formality of the new paladin.

Storm the dwarf stands almost five feet tall, considerably shorter than Skandor yet somewhat tall for a dwarf. He is dressed in a tattered brown shirt, revealing his solid and tones muscles underneath, and brown pants than end halfway down his shins. There they meet his black boots, coming up past his ankles, yet looking very worn in and softer than they would at first seem. The most peculiar thing about Storm, though, is his equipment. He totes more metal than even your average warrior, yet he can still move quite quietly if needed. He carries two long swords attached to his belt on either side at his hips, and all around his belt are attached daggers, at least ten of them by count. They hang side by side, all easily available should he need them, making almost a full circle around his belt. While he doesn't have it right now, his pack is thick with belongings, and he carries a bastard sword strapped across his back, usually worn under his backpack. Attached to his backpack is a composite long bow, unstrung, which he doesn't use too much.

Crayne really wasn't pleased at all this morning. With the events of last night, and now to top it off the departure of Cy their main battle tactician and Naeron, Crayne is in a dark mood--something that the others had gathered when Crayne had slammed a few doors and had muttered vehement tones under his breath. He is sure that Emerson had seen him the night before and that Paros would now be informed of all that had happened. It was unlucky, Crayne knew, but it was an outcome he hadn't planned for and now he had suffered the consequences. Even if Emerson hadn't spotted Crayne it was more than probable that Paros the High Mage would piece the information together and recognise it to be the work of the mage within Rinder's Six. Paros would now know that Rinder's Six suspected him of taking bribes. It was a disaster for Rinder's Six, Crayne knew. Paros would be far more cautious from now on and he was more likely to pay attention to the actions of the Six. Perhaps even send a few nasties along there way.

'The sooner we are out of this place the better', Crayne thinks to himself, lost in his contemplation for a moment and ignoring the introductions taking place in the same chamber. He turns his attention back to the scene the night before and places Emerson in the actions he had taken. How his form was shady and wavering and how Crayne's magic had been dispelled so easily. What it concluded was that this young nervous looking apprentice was no weak subordinate. Emerson was of considerable power, close to that of mage Crayne!

It could have spelled the Six's ruin. Crayne was sure that Emerson had fired off those missiles at Storm. Well, Storm had sworn by it too when Crayne had asked him earlier in the morning. He slams his fist against the wall. The odds really were stacked up high! And how he wished he was more skilled with his magic! How he felt that he had let down Rinder's Six! Those rings would be crucial and the sooner that Crayne knew more about them the better!

Awakened from his thoughts by the sound of his own hand striking the wall, Crayne then turns his attention to the new recruits in a gloom of despair. "Elloharin, Skandor and forgive me but I do not know of your name!" he looks to the girl who had attacked them the night before, "Forgive me if I am made to sound offensive here! This is a very difficult time for us. We have all been through so much. Events and happenings that you will hardly believe! We have just lost a member of Rinder's Six and Naeron. And now we are faced with you as replacements! What we will have to fight against in the future you can only dream of or have your worst nightmares about!

"Everyday it seems to me that our lives are endangered to a greater extent. That is why I must now be blunt and ask you what it is that you will offer to the Rinder's Six?" Crayne asks with a frown, "What assurance do you give to us that you will not run when the time gets too tough? And what makes you think that we can trust you all? And that you have the skills that are needed to be part of Rinder's Six? Forgive me for saying this, but is it not the case," he motions to the girl, "that you took it upon yourself to attack a group that outnumbered you and easily defeated you? What if it was not the Rinder's Six that you had attacked? Wouldn't you now be lying in the gutter dead?" Crayne is angry and waits for a reply from any of the three.

"My name is Alara", the girl says strongly, "And yes, it is quite true that I did attack your party even though I was outnumbered. Though I do not think I would have been so 'easily' defeated, if I had not paused when she", turning towards Emma, "said you were not muggers."

The young half-elven woman turns her gaze towards Hannibal, cold daggers in her eyes, "Especially if he had not attacked me from behind."

"I apologize for that," Emma offers, "He did so at my direction, and only because of the circumstances we were in at that moment. We had neither the time to explain ourselves nor the desire to leave you behind. It turns out that one of the men involved in our confrontation was an apprentice of the Duke's High Wizard, Paros. His master is a man that we are convinced is our enemy, and a traitor to the Duke and our countrymen. He has also been involved with the sale of this adamantine ore to the Drow, receiving bribes from the Blood Clan to look the other way. He probably won't look kindly upon our interference in the matter, and if his apprentice returns to him with news of our involvement...well, it could be disastrous for us...and now, with your own actions placing you among us, the same danger surrounds you, too. I thought it best if we brought you here..." The priestess puts as much sincerity into her words as possible. Truly, there was no malice behind their treatment of Alara. Emma only hopes that she can make that clear to the half-elf.

Skandor snaps to attention, his chin high, his eyes bore straight forward into the wall, unmoving, unwavering. "Sir Crayne, I swear to offer all that Anhur has gifted me with. I offer my arms and armor, for I am trained in the use of various weapons. I offer what military advice I might have, for I am trained in battle tactics and strategies. I have been directed to protect and serve the Shield Maiden, and I shall do so with my life, if Anhur wills it. As for running when the times get tough..." He pauses, and turns his head slightly to look the mage in the eye with a cold, hard glance. "I do not run."

"That may be so," Emma replies, cutting into Crayne's challenge to the new recruits, "But I'm afraid our last Sword-Bearer, Edryd of Kalt, gave his life protecting me at the Battle of Dillend. I pray that Anhur won't require any more such sacrifices for us to succeed. And there may be times when we need to run...as a group. Hopefully, you'll be understanding of that. The Scrolls of Anhur also tell us that 'There's a time to fight, and a time to flee overwhelming opposition so as to regroup and try another plan of attack.' If I or Crayne or anyone else decides that it's time to pull back, I would expect you to perform your duty and honor such a command."

Skandor nods curtly. "Of course, Lady... I was under the impression that Sir Crayne was attempting to ensure that we would not shy away from our duty if the situation called for drastic measures. While I would not flee in cowardice, I would make a tactical retreat if it were necessary, or if ordered to. I promise," he says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "that I wish to serve the Almighty for many years to come, Shield Maiden. I would not so uselessly throw my life away." He nods to both Emma and Crayne respectfully.

Looking back to Alara, Emma continues, "Regardless, please, forgive the Highbrow," she says, gesturing toward Crayne, "He's like this with every new person we encounter." She grins at Crayne to let him know she's just prodding him for his natural distrust. "I was most impressed with your willingness to intervene in something that you perceived as an act of wickedness...a common street-mugging. Crayne's words may seem harsh, but there's a ring of truth to them. If we actually had been a group of cut-throats, you would have under-estimated our strength and perished. Hopefully, you'll be willing to work with us in the future to insure the group's survival, as well as your own..." She smiles kindly, doing her best to smooth over Crayne's less than kind remark to the girl, as well as his obvious anger.

Alara turns her attention back to Emma and says, "I have no desire to put you, or your comrades in any sort of danger, and until last night I have been doing quite well insuring my own safety." The girl seems very defensive, having been put into a position where she has no choice.

The priestess nods approvingly. 'The girl's got spirit,' she thinks to herself, 'And resiliency. When faced with a strange situation, she's still able to tell right from wrong and hold fast to her personal convictions and confidence. Anhur himself couldn't be more pleased with this turn of events...and her sudden appearance must have been planned by his brother Nire.'

"I have no doubt that you are capable of insuring your own safety," Emma says, "And you're strong enough to extend your circle of protection to those in need. So, I would commend you for that and ask that you extend it a bit further to include Rinder's Six and help us successfully complete this mission. And, when we're finished, I'll speak with Sir Nigel, the Knight of Rinder who formed this group, on your behalf to tell him of your great service to King and country."

Skandor takes a moment to look over the new girl. He had not seen her in action the night before, and decides that a quick once-over would do him some good.

Alara is a young female half-elf. She has silvery-white hair which hangs nearly to her waist. It is currely pushed back behind her ears and hangs loosely. She is dressed in dark grey leather armor, that has obviously been well taken care of. She wears black boots and black leather gloves. At her waist is a scabbard which holds her bastard sword.

Then, Elloharin the Dimmed steps forward, in the direction of Crayne. "Some have places to run to, mage. Others do not. I will not break. I cannot." He says it softly, but he does not meet the mage's eyes. Almost as if he were speaking it to himself.

Before Gladstone has a chance to depart, Emma approaches him, saying, "Good sir! Has Sir Bryant met with the Dwarven representative and negotiated a new treaty yet? It's imperative that he wrap up such details as well..."

Gladstone stops just in front of the door and turns to regard Emma. "Priestess, Sir Bryant has much on his mind and much to do in the short time before his coronation. There is a reason why he has delegated the responsibility of treaty negotiations to Paros. Now, you may not agree with his judgement, but he cannot take the time to change that judgement unless you have at least the beginnings of a reason why, with at least some inklings of truth and proof. He has not yet met with the Dwarf, Delk. Now I must be going, Cyveiliog, Naeron and I have much to do."

Skandor listens carefully to the discussion intently, taking mental notes.

With that, Gladstone whips around and leaves the chamber. Cy bows slightly to Emma as he passes, and Naeron nods his head similarly. Towers also leaves. Still, Emma is left less than satisfied with the Sergeant-At-Arms' answer.

Seeing that the meeting is over, Elloharin takes a few steps toward the door, then stops and turns to look at Emma. "What is this? I was sent to end the blockade, not find some trinket or toy?"

Emma regards the elf curiously. "And who exactly did send you again?" she asks, "For I would assume that if they wished you to help us end the Dwarven blockade of the Raimead Mountains, it must have been because they wanted to help all of Rinder. This other quest seeks the same thing, only on a more permanent basis. For the Dwarves are only a small piece in the puzzle. Ending the blockade will temporarily solve a small problem. Locating the Ring of Fire will help us to solve a much bigger problem...the treachery of Sir Bryant's closest advisor and the looming war with Caerloon to our south.

"And it's not some toy...or a trinket," she explains, "The Ring of Fire is one of a set of four enchanted rings, each attuned to a specific element. They are quite powerful on their own, but when combined, represent a truly potent weapon that even the gods themselves recognize. We already have the Ring of Water and we know the location of the Ring of Fire. We fear that our enemies, the Red Dragon mages that left their school of wizardry to support Caerloon's invasion, are also after these items, and may already possess one or two of their own. We need to obtain them before they do, or steal them away...otherwise, we'll have a lot worse problem than a simple Dwarven Blockade on our hands. We might well find ourselves hemmed in by walls of fire and water, with the power of the wind assailing us from above, and the earth itself trembling beneath us.

"We've all agreed...I mean Rinder's Six has all agreed," she says, "To locate these rings after we've ended the blockade...or at least, the Ring of Fire. We plan to use it to face down one of the Red Dragon wizards that undermines our strength from within our own government. And, following that, we'll turn our attention to ending the conflict with Caerloon, too."

The priestess looks around at the newest members: Elloharin, Skandor, and Alara. "The rest of you need to accept the same mission if you intend to stay with Rinder's Six after we're finished here," she tells them, "Otherwise, we'll be moving on without you. I'd rather have your help, as full members of our band."

Alara looks at the Shield Maiden, not quite defiantly, though clearly not happily, and says, "It has been dictated to me that I am to accompany you and help in any way that I can...to that extent I will keep my word."

"Fair enough," Emma nods, although she gives a sidelong glance in Towers' direction, eyeing the High Priest's image as he departs down the corridor. Dictating the involvement of innocents in these affairs hardly seems like the just thing to do. Hopefully, the high priest has his reasons for doing so. "Thank you. And we welcome your help..."

Skandor glances around to Emma and each of her compatriots, then turns his eyes back to the Shield Maiden. "My orders are quite clear, Lady. I accept any mission that you have accepted, regardless of destination or danger."

"Those must be some interesting orders," Emma replies, "I'm impressed by your devotion and commitment, Skandor. You must serve Anhur well..."

Skandor pauses, thinking over his next question. Though he is new to their number, he has no desire to embarass himself--or the shield maiden--in front of her comrades. "Lady... are there any leads as to the location of the Ring of Fire?"

"Indeed we have a lead," Emma replies, "Towers has been kind enough to provide us with that. But, there's no need for us to discuss that now. As the Scrolls of Anhur tell us, 'Plan for the battle ahead, but focus on the battle at hand.' For now, the Dwarven blockade must be ended. To do so, we intend to interrogate the Blood Clansman downstairs and determine the best to do that."

"I would like to hear more of this ring!" Elloharin says, eyeing Emma and standing beside Skandor. "The Ring of Fire..."

"As would everyone else, I imagine" Emma agrees looking to Alara, "But the ring is not our focus right now..." The priestess looks around the room at everyone to make that point clear. "We *must* end the blockade in the Raimead Mountains, first...a situation that has come about through a misunderstanding between the Dwarven people and Sir Duke Bryant," she explains, "A misunderstanding that has been purposefully manipulated by the Blood Clan here in Parton. One of their men, named Bernigan, has served as Duke Marlond's diplomat in the past and he has used his position to open negotiations with the Dwarves for the adamantine ore in the mountains. The Dwarves are unaware of who the real buyer is in the deal. We've uncovered that for ourselves, and we need to bring it to their attention, for I'm sure it will help to sway their support back to the Duke.

"Apparently, the Blood Clan is making arrangements to ship the ore to some Drow Elves of House D'Urdenterrad, located somewhere in the caverns below the same mountain chain," she continues, "The man that we captured last night is Bernigan's chief accomplice...Jordice. He is the one that has made arrangements on the Drow-side of the equation. Bernigan has only handled the deception of the Dwarves. We intend to interrogate Jordice in the dungeons below so we can uncover the meeting place. If we know that, we can forward the information to the Dwarven representative, Captain Delk, who is visiting with Sir Duke Bryant to renegotiate the Great Dwarven Pact with Raimead. Despite the Dwarves willingness to once again sell us the adamantine ore that our armies desperately need in the coming conflict with Caerloon, we still need to stop Bernigan from delivering the ore he has already bought to these Drow Elves. Whether we face them on our own or with the backing of some Dwarven raiders once they've learned the truth, I think Anhur favors such an action. Adamantine ore in the hands of Drow can only mean woe and destruction, if not for Raimead, then certainly the unsuspecting Dwarves. I believe it is a just thing to undo the lies and trickery of Bernigan and his Blood Clansmen. It's also the best thing to do for Raimead, the Dwarves, and all of Rinder."

"Then if everyone is clear," Canter says, leaning into the heated discussion taking place in the center of the chamber, "perhaps we ought to head down to the dungeon and find out a bit more about this plot, huh?"

As Canter, Alara, Crayne, Karelth (Crayne's uncle, holder of the Ring of Water Command), Elloharin, Emma, Hannibal, Skandor, and Storm make their way through the subterranean passageways beneath the Temple of Anhur in Parton, Elloharin maneuvers himself close to the mage Crayne. "Mage," the elf begins, "your skills are impressive. I too, have spent some time studying the arcane, maybe we can share our knowledge. Are you a specialist?"

Crayne smiles, suddenly enjoying his position as the holder of knowledge rather than its seeker. "A specialist? I wouldn't say so. I learn a little bit of everything, all in the puruit of honing my skills. Of course, I have certain favorites, but I have not chosen to devote my studies to one particular school of the arcane, like the Wizard--and my personal close friend--Dire Luthor..."

Nodding, a bit confusedly, toward Crayne's reply, the elf takes the time to observe other members of the party. He decides that he likes Hannibal. He admires him for his strength and decisiveness. Also, he is the quietest of the Six. (And why, Elloharin wonders, are they called 'Rinder's Six'? There are not six in their band!)

About Storm. El isn't exactly racist, but he does enjoy needling the dwarf. He is surprised however by the dwarf's stealth. Most dwarves are loud, and obnoxious, in their steps as well as their speech. Storm seems somewhat of an anomaly in this respect.

He is somewhat nonplussed by Emma. As someone who scorns religion he finds her fervor a bit repellent. Somewhat irritating. He winces as he remembers how Emma threws that big hug around Cy, thinking that someday, this woman might one day break his own slight bones in such a crushing embrace.

Entering the dungeon, on the lowest, darkest, dirtiest sublevel of the Temple, Crayne smiles once again. He is pleased that he now has somebody he could tear into. "Jordice! Good morning to you!" He says with a tone of sarcasm, causing the slumbering, bruised body of the Blood Clansman to jump up and stand before the bars of his cell. "I hope that you enjoyed your stay and that the room was to your standard!" Crayne pauses waiting for an obscene reply, "Your fighting skills quite impressed me the night before. Yes, very impressive! Just too bad that you didn't stay on your feet just that little longer for I would have enjoyed smashing you in the face!"

Jordice growls, narrowing his eyes.

"Anyhow I must now continue! I am sure that you are wise to the ways of magic and that you have felt its effects from time to time. Well, I offer you a warning: You can give me this information now of your own free will or I can simply delve into your brain and find it for myself! I would prefer the first for the latter can make such a mess and cause such a commotion!" Crayne laughs aloud, a sinister bent to his voice.

Canter, standing a few feet away and watching his friend Crayne begin the interrogation, is fascinated by Crayne's behavior. How his anger took control of him, yet he was using it for productive ends. Scratching his smooth, freshly-shaved chin, Canter continues his observation, ready to jump in should Crayne or Emma desire it. He does notice, however, how Elloharin, Alara, and Skandor stand back, watching as well. What a first impression they must be receiving.

"Now!" Crayne continues, "We know that you are of Blood Clan and that you've been doing some work for Bernigan, so let us start there. Tell us what you know of Bernigan. Everything about him! We need to know what his terms are with Paros! Also, I want to know why he is involved with the Duke of Marlond? What business does he have with him?"

Jordice takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. He begins to smile, but says nothing, simply smiling at the infuriated mage before him. But Storm won't let this scum make a fool of his friend Crayne. Stepping in front of the mage for a moment, the dwarf confronts Jordice, peering into the man's eyes for a brief moment. Then, like a spring suddely let loose, Storm snaps a quick punch right at Jordice's nose, which had been peeking through the bars. Jordice stumbles backwards, tasting his own blood as it runs down his chin.

"You know you're not getting out of here any quicker if you keep acting like this," Hannibal adds to Storm's action.

"Fine then," Jordice spits, a mouthful of blood landing at Crayne's feet. "I'll tell you what you need to know. But first, know this: I was stupid last night, falling for your idiotic tricks--Yes, I said idiotic tricks! A few too many drinks, maybe. But my friends in the Clan--my brothers--they will not be as stupid. And they will not go down, not be captured as easily as I. I know the routine, I will probably never see the light of day again, so I don't mind talking. Next time I see them will be in the pits of the Nine Hells, anyway, so what do I care. But I can't wait, you idiot mage--or you pathetic dwarf--until I meet you in those pits once again, and I watch you roast alongside me."

Emma steps forward, about to jump into a lecture about Anhur's great hall and those who deserve passage, but Crayne holds out his hand and she quickly gets the message: if that little diatribe was what Jordice needed to say before spilling the beans, then so be it.

"Yes. Yes, I am in the Blood Clan. Glorious organization. I have lived a life of luxury for my service there and I would not trade for anything, save a set of scales from a golden dragon. Bernigan, too, a lifetime member. I didn't know him until recently, though, perhaps a few months ago. Just around the time when this Mazen fellow was causing all sorts of trouble and chaos along the southern border. Rumors had it adamantine had just been discovered in one of the Duke's new mines, but the mining teams sent to dig it out never seemed to return. That is, until some band of heroes like yourselves went and cleared that place out. A damn shame you got there first--wouldda made this whole transaction easier if the Clan had just cleared the place out before you even arrived!

"Anyway, so Bernigan arrives and finds me. I'm workin' on some heist of rubies or some other valuable nonsense. And he finds me at a Clan meeting and tells me to stop what I'm working on. 'What are you nuts?' I ask him. But he replies, 'I have a project worth much more.' 'How much more?' I tease him, 'how much? The royal coffers?' 'Perhaps, my friend, perhaps,' he replies.

"So Bernigan said he was working on some deal with the dwarves; he had to get them all riled up to cause some problems and a little chaos. Long enough for us to pull this thing off. He'd arrange for the adamantine and the wagons. And arrange for the sale to the drow. I'd get the Duke's wizard to look the other way. Bernigan said he'd supply the money. Apparently he was out there chatting up the dwarves last week, and I was supposed to meet him near one of the Raimead Passes, but then I got word that one of my Attenders was down. That was you, wasn't it?"

Crayne and Emma smile, proudly, nodding.

"Damn, you people are everywhere. Yeah, so, I came back. I was gonna go check out the spot today, but I can see that plans gone to shit..."

"Does this Bernigan have any weaknesses that can be taken advantage of? How high up does Bernigan rank within the Blood Clan?" Crayne asks, pausing to allow Jordice to answer.

"Weaknesses, damn, I don't know. Big talker, that much's for sure. But really handy with that sword, and he always picks the best men to go with him on important stuff, unless he's trying to keep a low profile. How high up, you ask? Let's just say high enough. The more you can steal for our cache, the higher up you are. And right now Bernigan's got himself in a position to steal quite a lot, when the time comes. But that'll be nothing compared to when this plan is through..."

"Tell us about yourself Jordice! What role do you have in all of this? How often was it that you would meet with Emerson and hand over the money to him? How long has this been going on for?"

"Me? Career criminal. But I'm a quick learn. My role? I told you that: get to Paros. Make the payments through Emerson. But you seem to have figured that much out already. Aren't you clever?"

Crayne continues, "Now! We know that Bernigan is purchasing adamantine ore from the dwarves to sell to the drow! And that he has arranged transport of this ore!"

It is then that Emma steps in, "Your wagons are headed for Spiked Peak," she states, "When will they depart and when are they scheduled to arrive?"

Jordice hangs his head and exhales loudly. "You people want to know everything. Fine. They depart tonight. You hear me? Tonight! So you better get your asses on the move, since they should at Spiked Peak in about five days--slow going with that heavy ore."

Storm leans against the back wall as the group questions Jordice. He stares at the bound man, cleaning his fingernails with a dagger and with a menacing look on his face. Should he need to, he thinks to himself, he will gladly comply with any 'interrogation assistance.'

Storm does catch the elf looking at him, pondering things about the group, as they interrogate the captured clansman. Storm stares right back, a dubious squint in his eyes. He continues to clean his nails with the dagger, but keeps his stare locked with the elf. Again he spits out the corner of his mouth, the projectile hitting the wall and dripping down slowly, though Storm's eyes never leave Elloharin's. If things were going to ease up between them, the elf hadn't given the dwarf a reason to start trying yet.

"How will the wagons be guarded? Who will be receiving them and what will their numbers be?" Emma asks sternly.

"Lady, that much is up to Bernigan himself. But from what I know, he's gonna have twenty, maybe twenty five men with him and their five heavy-load wagons. And who do you think will be receiving them? Hathe himself? Someone from the drow house, I presume. I told you, I don't work on that end of the deal, I just keep things quiet in Parton, let them worry more about the blockade and the threats at the coronation."

"Where's Bernigan during all of this? Will he be riding as well? Or will he simply meet the wagons at the point of delivery in order to seal the deal?"

"Lady, I may have been stupid for a few minutes last night, but this Bernigan is never stupid. We're the Blood Clan. We are professional thieves and we're good at it. Would you trust your caravan of priceless ore to a band of thieves and just let them run loose? I think not. He'll be with them."

"What of the Drow? How did they get into the city and attack us on the steps of temple? Are they your buyers?"

"Hey lady, I just get the money to Paros and keep the crime on the streets going. I didn't arrange for no drow, but if Bernigan did, I'd say it was a nice touch."

"Where are your ledgers? We know that bribery money has been changing hands...all the way up to Sir Bryant's wizard. Where are the entries that show those transactions?"

Jordice smiles and leans back from the bars of the cells. He even lets out a little laugh. Then he looks back to Emma and taps one finger upon his right temple. "You think we'd keep ledgers of that kind of stuff? It's all right here..."

"Emma," Canter says quietly, leaving his position along the sidelines and stepping up to Crayne and the priestess. He stands with his back to Jordice and the cell, just in front of them. "Bryant hasn't yet met with Delk. So we can grab him without endangering his negotiations--since there aren't any negotiations yet! The ore will be leaving tonight, so with Delk as a witness, we could go out there and find the caravan. Stop it, destroy it, steal it, whatever. We have a four day window in which to do it before we also have to deal with the drow buyers. And we can bring down Bernigan in the process. Once that's all over we can come back here. We'll have Jordice here as a witness to testify about the bribery, and that should be enough, along with Delk's eyewitness accounts and Bernigan's capture, to convince Bryant to renegotiate with the dwarves. Heck! After Delk sees the drow, the dwarves will probably do anything to renegotiate to avoid selling to the dark elves! And in the process," Canter looks to Hannibal, standing behind Crayne, "Hannibal gets to settle a score, long overdue."

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