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As the sun rises Crayne makes his way to the nearby stream and washes his face. The battle the night before had left its mark perhaps more mentally than physically. It was the first time Crayne had used the Ring of Water Command and how at the moment he never wanted to use it again seeing all the destruction it had caused. He knew however, that he would have to if the Red Dragon School was to be defeated and the armies of Caerloon destroyed. It wasn't just that which worried him though. It was the fact that Crayne would have to control the Ring of Fire Command too. That frightened him and certainly did put quite a bit of responsibility on his shoulders.

Storm had actually found the night's sleep a rough one, for every time he rolled over he aggravated the two deep gashes along his back and the one on his shoulder. He awakens looking haggard--even for him--and obviously still tired. He yawns several times, and finds that he has to go over to the stream and dunk his head in the cold water to fully waken.

Dutifully reciting her prayers in the early morning light, Emma rejoins her companions and once again calls upon Anhur's aid to cure their injuries. Her clothes look rumpled, and there are bags under her eyes, but she seems steady enough to take care of the others' wounds rather than her own. Still her shoulder aches and she seems ill at ease. Whether it's from her restless night, the leftover effects of the rum in Nickton, or the chunk of ice that struck her during the battle, it's hard to tell.

Back in the campsite, once his body finally gets going, Storm takes the morning kind of easy. He accepts Emma's healing readily, again with a hardy "Thank ye," and he requests that she focus her healing on his back and shoulder. Afterwards, he does feel much better and in seemingly good spirits, though he's very visibly still injured. He really had taken quite a lot of damage the night before!

Just before breakfast, Skandor does at least a minor job of cleaning his armor, shining his helmet, and makes every attempt to make himself more presentable. Some blood may be hard to remove, but he at least tries to clean it all away. He wolfs down his rations, eating in the familiar military style: few bites, time is of the essence.

Returning back to camp Crayne munches on some rations. 'What I would give for a proper breakfast' he thinks to himself, approaching the rest of the group. He sees Emma and nods to her. He wasn't quite sure what she truly thought of the events the night before, but he assumed that she wasn't pleased in any way shape or form. Crayne was sure that he'd hear about it too soon enough.

Crayne, himself, wasn't pleased though. So much death on his hands was what he couldn't fathom. He was convinced that more of the men that escorted the wagon should have been alive. His plans had gone wrong, he knew, and it had resulted in the loss of unnecessary lives. He would have to be more careful in future and test out his spells before using them.

Now what intrigued him was this gem that had been found. He was positive that he had detected magical traces from the camp the night before and indeed it seemed to him that this was at the centre of it. 'Something of Paros's maybe!' Crayne thinks to himself. He would have to investigate it later.

Alara sits near the campfire and slipping her bastard sword from it's sheath, sets to work cleaning the blade, keeping an eye on the prisoners at all time. Once her sword is clean, she sits it on the ground in front of her, and reaches into her pack for her leatherworking supplies. She crosses over to where Canter placed Storm's armor and picks it up. She attempts to repair the armor as best she can. Once done with that she sets to work on her own armor.

As he sits there munching on his rations, Storm notices Alara examine and start to work with his armor. "Hey," he says her way. "Don't tell me we be gettin' another leatherer here. Canter be a fine one already." With the forthcoming affirmation, Storm chuckles, followed with a pained yawn, says "Arright elf, just don't be paintin' no bullseye on the front--an remember," he adds suddenly, more loudly, "I be a dwarf. Don't be thinkin' I be as tall as that sword bearin' human." He winks her way as he turns to peer into the fire.

"We will need to send some to get the horses," the mage explains, "and some to handle the questioning. Naturally I will be there for the questioning, as will Emma."

The priestess shifts her plate of food from her lap to a nearby log and nods, still chewing thoughtfully. An interrogation was in order, and she planned to use one of her most powerful spells to summon forth Bernigan's spirit, too. Hopefully, it would all be enough to convince Captain Delk of their actions last night.

"Captain Delk?" Emma says, "Crayne and I would like you to stay here, so you can be present during our questioning of the prisoners." She stoops to pick up her broadsword and scabbard, belting the trusty weapon around her slim waist again. "It shouldn't take long," she reassures him, "And we'll be long done before the others return."

Upon hearing with relief that Emma will stay here, Skandor rises and approaches Canter and Karelth. "I have much training with horses. I am adept at riding them and handling them, so I shall go, too, if you will have me. But I admit, I do not have much in the way of gold on me." He pauses for a moment to consider the pile of excess weapons, armor, and whatnot. "Perhaps we can also take the extra equipment with us, perhaps we can trade, or sell?"

Hannibal then arrives at the scene, with soreness and pain. Making his way to the stream nearby, he washes his face and hands, invigorated by the cold morning air and cool mountain water. That done, he returns just in time to hear the others deciding who will stay and who will go. At Skandor's offer to go, Hannibal decides to speak, his voice dry and cracked from his long silence.

"Maybe I'm out of place here but a wounded Dwarf, a Mage, and a Cleric in the open don't make for good security. I think at least a few of the warriors should stay behind to ensure Emma and Crayne's safety. No offense Skandor, I just think your the healthiest one of the bunch right now. If a few others want to stay behind though then we could use your healing for the road too." That said, and realizing he had just contradicted himself, Hannibal looks around for someone to step up and clear the mess he had just made.

Emma calls across to the threesome, saying, "Purchasing some more horses is a good idea. Our horses won't make the best team for pulling the wagons. See if you can't purchase some to replace the ones we ran off last night." She looks toward Crayne and says, "It should help us move them faster...and as you said once before, speed is of the essence in this matter."

Skandor nods softly, agreeing with Hannibal's reasoning. Staying at the camp would also permit him to remain near the person he is supposed to be protecting: Emma. He scolds himself mentally, for even thinking of leaving her side when she is wounded, and possibly still out of sorts. "Wise words, Sir Hannibal. I shall stay here, then, unless Lady Emma insists that I leave her side.

"As for my limited healing ability, I shall bestow that now, before you depart." With that, the paladin moves toward Hannibal. The thief does not protest, but he seems lost in thought and therefore does not engage Skandor in conversation either. But it matters not to the Sword Bearer. Soon his deed is done. [6 hp restored to Hannibal.]

Alara then decides to volunteer to go with Canter and Karelth into town. It would give her a chance to stretch her legs before the long ride, and also to put some distance between herself and the scene of carnage. Besides, she figures, perhaps she and Canter, the party's other leather-worker, could trade some tricks of the trade.

The morning dawns and Elloharin seems to have recovered from whatever stupor or malaise had fallen over him the previous evening. He rises painfully, his wounds now large scabs and brightly colored bruises. He moves around camp like a ghost, speaking to no one looking at no one. He reclaims his sword and looks for any arrows that can be salvaged from the previous nights melee. When the suggestion is made that some people go to town, Elloharin, decides to accompany them. He rises, still limping, and joins the others. He ignores any looks he is given by Alara or Emma.

Emma's brow furrows up as she listens to Hannibal's concerns and Skandor's response. She busies herself while tidying up the camp after breakfast, but there is some agitation in her motions, as if she is slightly angry or put off by their statements. Still, she keeps it all to herself. 'What is this?' she silently wonders, 'Do they all think I'm incapable of defending myself? I may not be the best warrior of my caste...or even within Rinder's Six...but surely, I've shown that I'm strong enough on the field without having to be looked after...'

Those thoughts bring her around to something else she hasn't really given consideration to lately. Sparring. It's something she and Edryd used to do on occasion just to keep in practice. Maybe she should put some of her talents on display again? 'I wonder if the Sword-Bearer would be interested?' she thinks, 'Maybe I'll test his strength for myself once the prisoners have been interrogated? How might he measure up against Edryd's style? And how much more experienced am I now than when I first joined Rinder's Six? It might be interesting to find out...'

"So who's going and who's staying," Emma finally asks from across the way, "Canter, Karelth, Elloharin, and Alara plan to go into town? So that leaves me, Crayne, Skandor, Delk, Storm, and Hannibal behind? That sounds like more than enough to secure the campsite and the prisoners. El, it's probably best that you're going with them, too. You'll be a familiar face to that bartender and maybe he'll be more willing to help you guys locate some horses for us since you kind of helped him with that belligerent Clansman the other night..."

As the group discusses who's going where, Storm takes his turn to inspect the big red gem. He takes it wide-eyed, staring at it close and rotating it around several times in his hand, letting the deep gem reflect the sunlight off its many facets. He looks at the gem so long that the group heading toward Nickton was fifty yards down the road before Storm even noticed. Doing so, he suddenly leaps up. "Arrr, by the Gods!" He tosses the gem to Crayne, and leaps up into a sprint down the road after the three who left, frantically yelling for them to stop.

The rest of the party sees him down the road, his messy dirty-blonde hair and beard bouncing as he runs, quite fast for his size. He runs up along side Canter, talks him with him for a second, and then Canter reels back laughing a bit before patting Storm on the shoulder and waving as the dwarf starts a trot back to the campsite. When he gets back, Storm answers the groups' stares with a simple "What? I's needin' to remind him to be gettin' me a pony." Then as an afterthought, "Hey, I's had enough o' you's big people's rides!"

After they have departed for Nickton, Emma gathers the prisoners together, forcing them to all sit side by side upon one of the logs. She carefully removes the gag from the first one and begins the questioning, allowing Captain Delk and Crayne to hover nearby so they can join in whenever they're ready. Before she starts, she casts a Zone of Truth around the campsite to insure no lies can be spun by them.

Crayne lets Emma take care of the questioning relieved to see that she was beginning to contribute again.

"So where were you taking all of this ore," she asks the first man. She waits patiently enough for his response, not quite willing herself to treat the man with the violence she had exhibited back in Parton with some of the other Clansmen. This one had been laid low enough that he ought to cooperate a little better than the Attender's men.

The man looks around to Emma, Skandor, and Crayne, obviously concerned for his life. Moreover, he can feel the enchantment of Emma's Zone of Truth, and knows he cannot tell a lie, though he knows not why. "The ore..." he begins, searching for words. Finally, as if he'd come to some kind of conclusion, he responds fully, appearing to cooperate. Perhaps the image of these warriors before him, in addition to whatever powerful magic this priestess and her fellow mage could wield, convinced him.

"We were taking it...umm...to the Peak."

Emma nods, smiling a little. "Who were your buyers?" she asks, purposefully trying to guide the conversation around to the Drow. Captain Delk must learn that bit of Bernigan's plan. Hopefully, these Clansmen were knowledgeable enough about where they were going and who they were meeting to provide him with the full story. Otherwise, Hannibal and Storm's actions in killing all of the band's leaders was going to make it much more difficult to get a full confession.

"Buyers? Well...umm...I don't really know their names. They're from some place called a house. Does that sound right?" He looks over to his companions, still gagged. The one next to him hangs his head, shaking it in disappointment.

Crayne begins to smile, too. "Could it be House D'Urdenterrad, perhaps?"

The man swallows hard, then answers: "Yes, that's the name."

"Who was your leader...what was his name? And who among the rest of you ranks the highest now?" Emma asks, trying to get an idea of which of the men would know the most. That would be the one she'd focus most of her questions upon.

"Highest ranks? Well...umm..." the man licks his lips, "he would." He points to the Clansman all the way at the end of the line.

Skandor removes the man's gag and immediately he screams at the first questionee, "You are a dead man, you know that?! Dead!"

Having succeeded in getting some answers from the first Clansman, Emma gags him once more, and repeats the process with each prisoner down the line, allowing them to hear one another's answers for now. Finally, in the course of questioning the man whom the others indicated was the highest in rank, she casts her Command enchantment upon him, demanding in a firm voice,

"Confess!" when she asks him to whom they planned to sell the ore. 'At least this way, he'll be forced to speak...and the magical ward will constrain him to speak only the truth,' she thinks.

The acting-leader glares at Emma, clearly aware that some kind of magical constraints have been placed upon him. "We were Bernigan's guard, taking this shipment to Spiked Peak. I don't know how you people found us, or what you want with us, but trust me, the drow will not be happy if they don't get their ore. And if they don't get their ore, they don't provide their service for us. And that service isn't done...well then...there are going to be some extremely angry people in the Blood Clan. And I will make it my mission in life to see to it they take out their anger on you lady!"

Finally, armed with the best answers to her questions that she can get, Emma motions Crayne and Captain Delk forward, allowing them to add whatever inquiries they've planned. When they're done, she turns to Captain Delk and asks him if he's satisfied?

Crayne nodds and remains quiet as there was little else that could be said at this juncture. He wasn't feeling particularly talkative this morning anyhow.

During the interrogation, both of the prisoners and the dead, Storm stands behind the gropu, too tired still to listen fully. He does, though, raise a curious glance at Hannibal's question. 'By the Gods,' he thinks to himself, 'His revenge ain't be over yet.' He smiles and shakes his head a little, knowing that several adventures and philosophical arguments with a certain priestess were still yet to come.

The look on Delk's face says it all. He is mortified. Surely, the humans of Rinder's Six, and Storm of the Strongblade Clan among them would not knowingly lie. But here he was finally faced with the truth, guaranteed by Anhur...if that human god could be trusted. Why hadn't the Duke dealt with this problem honorably? Were the tables reversed, surely the Dwarven Clans would see the honorable thing to do and get it done! The Duke must hear of this!

Delk is ready to renegotiate the treaty--that's a fact that hasn't changed since the beginning of this mission--but now with newfound vigor he can be sure he can convince the Clans of their mistake. Surely, the Clans would understand that they have been played as fools by this clever (and now, fortunately, dead) human, Bernigan. But they would still need a better treaty with Raimead before they would return to selling the ore to the humans.

And that, Delk knows, was not his problem.

"I be convinced," the captain finally says to Emma and Crayne after much apparent deliberation. "I can convince the Clans not ta sell to these vermin. But we still gots to get the Duke to work on the treaty, or we ain't sellin' the ore ta him, neither."

"There does exist one more possibility for answers to our questions," Emma replies, nodding to Delk and understanding his position--but also thankful that he is beginning to come around. She explains, "Bernigan's spirit has only recently left this plane. It's still on its way to Anhur's judgement hall, and I can recall it here to speak with us, if you would like. I cannot guarantee he will speak the truth, though certainly in death he has little reason to lie to us now. I can only keep him here for a short time...enough for a question or two.

"Even if you have nothing further to ask Bernigan about the adamantine," she says, "I think we should still summon his spirit so we can learn more about this gemstone which Crayne believes has magical properties. I would assume that Bernigan would have known of it...as well as its purpose. What do you think, Highbrow?"

"A very good idea!" Crayne smiles at Emma, "If you could do it I believe it would be of great benefit to us!"

"Well, if you think it's useful, I'll try it once again," the priestess confirms, "You can ask him about the gemstone. Hannibal, is there anything you'd like to ask?" The priestess looks at the thief knowingly. The issue of Melinda, the woman whom Bernigan murdered, might still be unanswered for him. "A chance to put all your demons to rest," Emma offers.

Hannibal is shocked by the suggestion and makes no effort to conceal that fact. Looking to Emma, he wonders what the priestess may be thinking and why the sudden change in attitude towards Hannibal's actions. After all, just weeks previous had she not threatened action should he carry out his revenge?

Wondering if this was some sort of trap, Hannibal is none the less intrigued by the idea and nodded. "I will think of a question as you ask," he says plainly, his thoughts elsewhere as he speaks.

Emma nods thoughtfully, watching the thief walk away. She sighs and looks toward Crayne with a worried expression. "He hasn't come to grips with it yet," she says, just for the Highbrow's ears, "Maybe this will give him a sense of closure...and we can all put it behind us."

Inwardly the priestess hopes that Hannibal will simply ask: "Why?" Why did Bernigan slay Melinda? That at least might satisfy the thief's heart. 'Maybe if he can hear that Bernigan did it simply to strike at him out of spite, he can be satisfied with having taken his revenge,' she thinks to herself, 'At least I hope so.

'Look for peace, Hannibal,' she prays, 'And may the gods grant it to you...'

Emma moves off to examine the rest of the camp. Others had already made piles out of anything useful. Squatting down on her heels, she absent-mindedly picks over some of the stuff, still busy with her thoughts about Hannibal and Bernigan. 'Did he murder him?' she silently wonders, 'I'd like to imagine he didn't...I'd like to think he slew Bernigan only in the course of battle, that fate somehow carried itself out that way. Surely, Crayne's miscast invisibility spell put them all at great risk last night. Storm rushed in to make sure the situation didn't fall apart completely. It was life or death for one side or the other. Is that the way it happened, Nire? Sometimes I wish I could commune with you and Anhur the way High Priest Towers did in Parton...if for no other reason that to put my mind at ease about these things. But maybe that would be mis-using such power...'

She looks over at Storm, back to playing with the ruby-red gemstone. The Dwarf is just as worrisome to her as his friend, Hannibal. 'Were Storm's actions really noble last night?' she wonders, 'Were mine? Was anyone's?' She plucks a blade of grass and twists it in her small hands...a warrior's hands now...they used to be much softer. 'Do I even care anymore?' she asks herself, 'What kind of justice are we after now anyway?

Ambushing caravans. Slaying people outright. And, revenge rules the day in everyone's heart. Even if Storm and Hannibal did slay the Clansmen last night in the course of battle, I know their minds well enough to understand neither of them view it in any kind of noble way. They just take glee in the death of their enemies. No remorse. And indeed, they'd both view it as a weakness if any of us were to show such a pitiful emotion, I'll bet. So certainly, my feelings on this matter aren't welcome among this group...

'Justice is seldom welcome anywhere it's applied,' she recalls from the Scrolls of Anhur, 'Certainly not by those that have wronged someone...and not by those that are blinded by the wrongs that have been committed against them.

'So where does that leave me?' she asks herself, 'I'm like a priestess without a congregation. My own high priests won't listen to me. The nobles of the land turn out to be corrupt or unknowingly corrupted by outside influences. And, Rinder's Six sees Anhur's guidance as a stifling thing during these times of trouble. I'm not even sure if I've made a difference in anyone's life...except maybe Edryd's. And all I managed in that respect was to get him killed on the field of battle. What a fine Shield Maiden I've turned out to be...'

She tosses the blade of grass away and lurches back to her feet, stretching her back. It was time to start the interrogation of Bernigan...a task she hardly relished anymore. 'Let's keep this brief,' she thinks.

The walk seems to take much less time in the daylight than in the dark the night before. Canter, Karelth, Alara, and Ellohain make good time, and by midmorning they are within sight of the town of Nickton. They decide first to head to the tavern where El had spoken with the Clansman and the bartender. The four of them head in.

The place is empty, except for one barmaid cleaning off one of the tables and the barkeep, who is on the floor trying to put a broken chair back together.

"Horses ye say?" he replies after El asks. "Gerz down the road, I think he's got some. And if ye need to trade them crossbows," he continues, motioning the weapons Alara carries, "I think he can help ye."

After thanking him, they proceed down the street, locating "Gerz" in a stable. There, coincidentally, are the horses the party rode in on. It seems the boy with whom they left the horses the day before was actually Gerz's son.

"So ye need some more animals?" Gerz says, scratching his forehead.

"Yes," El replies, "enough to pull three wagons, heavily loaded. We've already got those over there, but we'll need a few more, heavier."

"And one pony!" Canter puts in.

"Well, I can sell ya six over there, but I only got one pony and it's for my boy, so I can't sell it." He motions to the far end of the stable. Then he leads them over there to check out the animals. Canter, the one in the group most proficient with horses, inspects them, running his hands through their manes and patting their sides to check their muscle.

"These will do," Canter decides, looking to Gerz. "How much for four? We can pay for some in trade, we bring these," Canter takes a crossbow from Alara and holds it up. Canter turns to Karelth, Alara, and El, and says as an aside, "I don't think we can afford all six, but we don't need all of them. We can use some of our own and ride on the wagons, but we will need some of these stronger draft horses, since none of ours can pull those wagons alone."

"I'll trade ye two for the seven crosses," Gerz replies, taking the crossbows from Alara and giving them to his son with instructions to put them in the house. "The other two'll cost ye. Three hundred golders fer the two."

Canter swallows hard. He knows that's an amount that will sting. But then he thinks about the greater purpose. The purchase of these animals meant little in the grand scheme of things, whereas getting the ore to the Duke in Parton could not only help to sway him in terms of renegotiating the Great Dwarven Pact, but would also go a long way toward helping protect Rinder's troops in the growing war.

Pulling the others aside, Canter discusses their finances. "I have enough gold to pay for the horses, though I will have very little left. Now, I understand that the rest of you haven't the same kind of money with you, but I would appreciate it if you could contribute something to the cause."

"I have very little," Alara says, "in fact, I have only what I can carry on my back. But I can put in fifteen."

"I'm good for twenty," El says.

"And I can put in thirty," Karelth says.

"Okay," Canter responds, thinking. "That leaves 235 for me to pay. I can do it."

"Think of it this way," Alara replies, trying to make light of the situation. "Your backpack will be a lot lighter now!"

Smiling toward the half-elf, Canter nods, and then returns to Gerz. "You have yourself a deal. We'll trade the weapons and pay three hundred for the other two. That should be four heavy draft horses."

"Four heavy draft horses, yep," Gerz replies with a wide smile. Soon the money is produced, and Gerz has his son place all the coins in a small locked chest. "Gentlemen--and miss--it has been a pleasure. You make take them out at any time. Have a nice journey."

Feeling a lot lighter, Canter leads the others in each taking the reins of a horse and leading it toward their own animals. "Come now," he explains, "we're going to harness them together in groups, like so," he continues, showing how to tie the necessary knots with the leather strips attached to the harnesses. "This way we can each ride and lead a column of mounts, and they won't get away from us."

Soon all the mounts are prepared, and with Canter leading the way, they all head out of Nickton toward the campsite, the early afternoon sun on their backs. In addition to the four heavy draft horses, they also have with them the party's ten mounts.

Bernigan's body is dragged to a clear spot in the campsite and laid in the grass. Standing around him, Emma, Skandor, Delk, Storm, and Hannibal look down to see the man at their feet. Large, bloody gashes are on his chest, arms, legs, and noticably, on his throat. His skin is ghostly white, and his face expressionless. Emma begins to cast her spell, Speak with Dead, in an effort to summon the evil diplomat's recently departed spirit.

She begins reciting the ancient words, intoning the priestly arcania and calling upon the power of her god for this purpose. Her eyes close tightly, her hands extend over Bernigan's body, fingers outstretched.

Hannibal waits impatiently for the spirit of Bernigan to return. Surprisingly he is very nervous and his hands shake uncontrollably. As the ghost of Bernigan appears to him Hannibal swallows hard, hoping his voice will not betray his emotions to Bernigan's spirit. Pausing for a moment as his opportunity comes, he gives Bernigan a hard stare and asks his question.

"Where is Singe Alei Vei?"

A frown immediately crosses Emma's face. This wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she offered the question to Hannibal. 'Singe Alei Vei?' she thinks to herself, 'And just who might that be? The next target for Hannibal's hatred and vengeance?' She shakes her head to herself and looks down at the ground kicking at a rock with the toe of her boot. 'If he wants to know where this Singe is,' she thinks, 'It can only be because he plans to confront him, too.

'It's just what I feared,' she thinks, 'The way revenge always works upon people. Just like in the Histories of War. A simple act of violence never puts the demons to rest...even when directed against the one that's wronged you in the first place. I guess if vengeance isn't taken in a socially acceptable form of justice, it just keeps growing and eats away at the soul of a man until there's nothing left except bitterness and self-loathing. Hannibal may have willingly created a monster of himself. When will it end?'

Nonetheless, the question was already asked. It would be interesting to see what Bernigan would say. And Hannibal's reaction would be equally interesting as well. 'Perhaps it isn't what I think,' she hopes, 'Perhaps Singe is a friend instead of an enemy?' But in her heart, she knows better...and the candle of hope burns very low.

Bernigan's spirit, a gray, semi-translucent wavering image above his dead body and Emma's hands, seems to fade in and out of existence. The combination of its dimness and the bright winter sun overhead make seeing the spirit extremely difficult. However, upon hearing Hannibal's voice, the spirit's image appears stronger, as if strengthened somehow. And then it answers.

A laugh. It begins like a chuckle but is soon loud, echoing (though there are no nearby surfaces off of which his voice should echo) frighteningly. Smiling, Bernigan's spirit looks down upon Hannibal with narrowed, empty eyes.

"You will not find him here, you fool. Go home, poor Hannibal Smith. Go home!"

With that, the spirit begins to fade. Disturbing as the answer is, and as much as Emma would like to rid this realm of this evil spirit, she knows they have one more question to ask.

"Wait, spirit, I command you!" she says aloud, clenching her fists tightly. Perhaps she interrupted her concentration too long while responding to Hannibal's question and listening to the spirit's answer. now she struggled to regain control, desperately holding it on this plane as if in a extra-planar tug of war.

"What powers does gemstone possess?" she asks.

"Powers?!" the spirit spits back, "Why, I know just as much about that thing as you. One thing I do know is that it managed to evade you people the first time you were in the mine. Ha!"

And with that, the spirit disappears. Emma falls backwards, an incredible amount of energy spent. Skandor is there behind her, and into his strong arms she leans until she clears her head a moment later. She then gazes toward Storm. He seemed the most knowledgable about gems and such things. Could he figure out what powers it possesses?

Then she looks toward Hannibal. What would his reaction to Bernigan's answer be?

1. Taking into account all the healing, the HP status should be as follows: Alara: 20/26, Canter: 14/36, Crayne: 15/15 + 6, El: 12/20, Emma: 21/42, Hannibal: 17/26, Skandor: 11/26, Storm: 21/44, Delk: 23/38, Karelth: 11/11

2. Canter will subtract 235 gp for the horses. Karelth will subtract 30. Alara, please subtract 15 gp. And Elloharin, please subtract 20 gp.

3. Dividing the money from the Blood Clan soldiers, each character (including Delk and Karelth) should add 3 gp, 1 sp, and 2 cp to his/her money.

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