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Crayne sees the two dead bodies on the floor, "So unnecessary!" he whispers under his breath. He then turns upon the crowd who stare mystified at the bloody scene before them. Lost for words he turns again and quickly heads into the alley along with the three bodies. When the bodies are put down, Crayne instantly heads for the leading man and intones the words of magic. Concentrating hard, Crayne focuses his mind on the task ahead and casts a charm Person at him. "Get rid of the two dead bodies before our pal here wakes up!" Crayne says anxiously looking up at Canter, Cy and Hannibal. "Cover them in refuse if need be!"

Cy hauls a thug into the alley and deposits him with an unceremonious thud. He then locates the nearest sewer entrance and proceeds the stuff the two bodies down into the sewer with the casual aplomb of a butler taking out the trash.

"From the sewer and back again. Right 'n fittin' I say," he says, brushing the dirt from his clothing. He looks to Edryd, "Would we be going? I would suggest this, as attention is not the best thing to attract inna this world. It sticks to ya when ye leest want of it." Edryd does not answer, his mind still battling with the gravity of the situation and its moral repercussions.

Thoughts pound through Crayne's brain at a rapid beat. This is murder! Out in broad daylight with plenty of witnesses! What am I going to say! What am I going to say! Crayne closes his eyes and remembers his magical meditation. He counts to ten and calms his mind and begins to come up with a cohesive plan.

He looks up at Guilliam, who stands yards away in the street. Talking quietly to himself and to Cy, Canter, Hannibal, and Edyrd, he focuses on the bard. In a whispered voice, he says, "Guilliam whatever you've done I'm sorry but we are going to have to go to the guards. Otherwise we paint a picture for being guilty. We have been seen by many as to what we've done." He turns his head, a concerned look on his face. Facing the others, now, he continues. "I have charmed this man here and will tell him to leave this place as soon as possible. We will tell the militia that we were set upon by some thugs who tried to rob us. Hopefully our reputation as the Rinder's Six will get us out of this. I suggest we say that we slayed the two out of self defense and the third got away for I do not believe it wise that we let the guards speak with this man! Now I suggest the lot of you head for the militia and I'll deal with this man here! I'll tell him some lies and hopefully get him to leave here! "

Storm, standing near Canter in the alley and peering into the street, seems rather calm after the conflict. He wipes his blade on the downed man's shirt lightly, not taking particular care to make sure it's perfectly clean of blood, and replaces it in his belt where he last removed it.

He seems uncaring of the action that took place, showing no signs of remorse or sadness over the results of the party's actions. From his point of view, after all, the men were the party's aggressors. As he walks back he kicks a little dirt over the blood trail left behind. As he does so, he flips a little glance at Hannibal. Not one of scorn or disapproval, but more of one that might say 'not bad.' He snickers and wipes his nose on his sleeve as he returns to where the rest of the party is standing.

Meanwhile, in the street, Emma looks over the crowd, seeing the expressions on the commoners' faces...surprise, shock, morbid curiosity, and grim-faced concern. She didn't blame them for their reaction. Hers was much the same.

Emma sees Storm's reactions, as well as the glance he gives to Hannibal, and her teeth grind together in frustration. These people seemed to be nothing more than common killers! Rinder's Six? Heroes? Nothing seems further from the truth. She's on the verge of stepping forward and slapping the snickering Dwarf.

Emma's continues to fume as she considers Edryd's words, especially his tone of voice. She could hardly believe his willingness to 'cover up' the actions of Rinder's Six. "Tell them something?" she says, "I hardly understand what happened here myself! These men came to obtain some kind of payment from our friend and the cut-throats you've been traveling with murdered them in cold blood! Obviously, they intended to do Guilliam bodily harm, but was that reason enough to kill them outright?" She speaks more to herself than to the Paladin, who is busy in the alley.

Obviously angry, her eyes blaze at Edryd as she remembers his instructions about "calming down" the commoners. "Is this justice then? Do you go about calling yourself Anhur's servant by allowing people to be stuck down in such a way? This isn't a battlefield. We're not at war with ourselves, are we? No! This is wrong!"

She begins to step closer to Guilliam, but keeps her gaze fixed upon Edryd. To the bard she says, "Come Guilliam the Gale," she whispers, but the look she gives the bard as she turns to face him is very stern. "You've never been at a loss for words before. What's this all about?" she asks, "And answer me truthfully, here before all these people, lest Anhur's wrath come down even more forcefully upon your head than it has already."

Dropping his head, Hannibal backs up, wishing nothing more than to be able to melt away into the crowd. He had not wanted to kill them like this, but at the time felt he had no choice. He noticed Storm looking back at him and giving him an approving nod, Hannibal did his best to play it off as a casual encounter but in truth, he wanted nothing more than to throw up.

Quietly, and without notice, he creeps back to a secluded part of the alley and does just that.

Guilliam looks to the crowd and then to his companions. "Did you see the tattoos on the back of their necks" he cries out to everyone. "Not just the marks of common thieves but of the Blood Clan" Guilliam begins to shake as he comes to realize what just occurred and what might have come. "I, I got involved in some unsavory business" he admits. "I'm a bard. I have a love of music. I was without a lute for too long. So, I made an arrangement with a fellow by the name of Han. He offered me some money to buy a lute and to live a little more comfortably with. At the time, Crayne was charging me for magic lessons and I became so intrigued with them that I was willing to get involved in a bad arrangement to get the money needed to continue. I needed money to pay for the magic lessons and buy my lute." Guilliam notices himself repeating his points and realizes that he is very nervous. Hands clammy, mouth dry, he continues "I didn't realize what I was getting into though. I wouldn't have put off paying Han for so long if I knew what kind of a man he was." Guilliam looks to his friends for reassurance. "I didn't realize that Han was involved with the Blood Clan. These thugs who attacked us were more than they appeared. Hanibal must have

noticed it first off. If he didn't act as quickly as he did, then things could have been worse. The two we killed were novices in the Clan. Their tattoos weren't complete. It shows that they needed to fulfill their Blood Right to become full members. And I guess I was their Blood Right. They didn't come to just rough me up. They came to kill me in broad daylight in a crowded street to show how tough they are."

Emma, having never heard of the Blood Clan, raises an eyebrow and looks back toward the alley where the others have placed the bodies. Her instincts tell her to believe Guilliam, but the most recent actions of Rinder's Six won't allow her to simply trust his words anymore. She would need to see the marks for herself.

Despite how nervous he feels, Guilliam's words have a soothing and calming effect on the crowd. Emma stands next to him, her gaze boring into his skull as he talks. But the crowd believes what they hear, and slowly begin to disperse, eager to leave the area before any officials arrive. Guilliam's words shock even the members of his own party, standing and kneeling in the alley. Canter looks to Edryd as if to ask if the words are true, but Edryd shakes his head; he doesn't know.

The words are enough, though, and soon a modicum of normalcy returns to the street. Quickly and subtly, the party reunites in the alley, standing over the body of the lead thug. Once there, Crayne repeats his opinion to Emma and the others. Canter nods, listening carefully.

"Crayne's right. I don't know if this was right, but I think it was necessary. I'm not one to judge whether those are one and the same today. But our reputation may be one of our most potent weapons if any official action comes to bear on this," Canter says to the others, looking toward Emma.

Hardly able to believe her ears, Emma looks back at Crayne and Canter as if they've gone insane, "Your reputation?! You're counting on your reputation as Rinder's Six to get you out of this!? And you would LIE in order to do it?! What kind of people ARE you?!?"

Her fists tighten around the shaft of her spear and she looks ready to ram the barbed tip right through Crayne's belly. "We will WAIT for the Knights to come," she says through clenched teeth, "We will HAND over to them the bodies." She looks around, shocked to see only one. "Where are the other two? What did you do with them?! Had you WAITED before doing away with their bodies we could have checked all of them for this marking." She scolds Cy. "We will explain our actions by telling the TRUTH! And we will let JUSTICE run its course..." She quickly reaches down to the remaining ruffian's neck, shoving his head forward violently. There, she saw it; half of a tattoo, it's red and black dye staining the man's skin. 'So it was true,' she thinks, 'that doesn't make it right.'

She looks back toward Guilliam and then to Crayne again, "You do NOT walk through life as if killing three men means nothing! I don't know what kind of life Rinder's Six is used to, but if it's anything like this, I sincerely doubt your reputation as HEROES is well-deserved!"

She then turns on Edryd, her own voice mocking him back, "If you have the compassion for it, save him if he yet lives." She points down at the lead thug's slumped body. "And, have a long look at yourself and the rest of Rinder's Six, while you hide away here in the alley. As a servant of Anhur, I need to understand the reasons behind all of this before I can convince anyone that our actions were just, let alone the Knights or the Duke. You of all people should appreciate that!"

Cy turns to Emma, his gristly business finished. He smiles a smile of the heaviest sarcasm. Long ago, Cy saw the world a different way. Now he sees a woman before him with a shadow of what he remembers. He lets out a long string of eloquent Elven directed in her direction. Her only response is a slight look of confusion, quickly replaced by angry expectation as she waits for a translation.

"Those who grow, locked by walls from the ways of the world, should be wise to realize the true world is not the dictum of a god, the laws of a book, or the spell in a Tome. It is the way of action that rules and experience in action that judges, be it swift or dead." Rinder's six has heard Cy speak like this once before: the clear, elegant, unaccented speech of a noble or scholar. He quickly drops back to his normal speech pattern and looks quite weary... this has been a long campaign.

"MeLady, there be nothing in this world meaning more to a being that his friends and companions. What will be done to defend those, is well beyond the teachin's o' a god or the words o' a king. Judge not us for what we do to save a friend. Lonely is the path of the righteous when not tempered by the wisdom of life. Anywhere can be a battlefield, Melady, right and wrong will sort themselves out... ye must act as ye feel fit, and hope the good comes of it. 'Course, you must be alive to be doin' this." Cy ends his tirade there and sits on his hunches, listening, quite intently, to the others. He awaits Guilliam's description of what is going on.

Emma listens to Cy's words, noticing the differences in his speech, and recognizing him to be something more than the brute warrior he pretends to be. First a simple fighter, then a ruffian's language, and now words fit for a king. An accomplished actor of no small skill, it would seem...much like Guilliam the Gale, himself, she thinks. But, even that assessment cannot sway her opinion on the matter at hand. Something must have happened in Cy's travels to have torn down his optimism on life for him to believe in such a hopeless philosophy...for if he truly believed such words,...that action dictates right and wrong, that there can be no wisdom taken from the teachings of a god such as Anhur, that one shouldn't think before acting, even in the defense of friend or family...then a life lived in such a way would border on anarchy, hopelessness, and decay.

Emma simply stares at Cy, too angry to continue her tirade at the moment, and more interested in hearing what Guilliam has to say than trading philosophy with the huge warrior. As nice as it was to find someone who could speak intelligently and debate philosophy, now was neither the time, nor the place. But after this was finished, then she could renew the discussion, perhaps.

Cy sighs at the obvious anger contained within the priestess. What could motivate her to such fervor, Cy doesn't understand. The motivations of men and women do not excite the mercenary. He's seen enough of the world to know that very few people can stand lightly and calm in the face of something that violates their principles. He shrugs, knowing the priestess will probably grill him about it later.

Edryd then speaks, addressing the group, but focusing on Emma. "I trust Storm. And if it was his assessment that those thugs were about to attack, then I will believe it. I have learned that the first strike can often be a decisive factor in the outcome of the battle. This battle was no exception. That doesn't mean that what happened here today was Anhur's will. Emma, we both know that. But my suggestion about removing the bodies was in the best interests of all of us. This may not have been right, but given the evidence, I do not believe it was all wrong, either."

Emma doesn't reply, but takes a long look at Edryd. She is obviously seething, but bites her tongue for the moment. "I want to hear from you, Guilliam the Gale," she orders the bard. "Guilliam," the priestess begins to say, "If you speak the truth, then why didn't you repay this Han as soon as you realized he was of the Blood Clan? You could have ended your debt and prevented this waste of human lives." She looks around the alley as she thinks, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her cheek against her spear.

Guilliam's clammy hands begin to shake more and more as he talks. "I meant what I said. I saw the marks on their necks. I didn't know it when I made the deal, but when I saw the tattoos and he mentioned Han, I knew what was meant to happen...to me. They will not forget this. It's not over for me. And it means that I have a ransom on my head now. I won't be safe anywhere." Looking to his friends again, he swallows hard and faces the facts "I can't continue on with you. This much is certain. We'd be attacked everywhere we traveled. It would hold you up too much. It would jeopardize your mission. I'm going to have to back out. Let me plead with the Duke. Perhaps he can protect me for a while. Perhaps I will have to leave Rinder for my own good. Paying Han back now won't save me. I have to become a new person if I want to live." He silently reaches into his pocket, withdrawing the maps he'd collected along the way; maps of Rinder, of Caerloon, of the mine, even his own map. He holds them out before them, motioning first to Emma. He then pulls them back, motioning to give them to Crayne, his mentor. Finally he turns to Canter, who takes them with a slow nod, but says nothing.

Guilliam takes a breath to calm his nerves. Slowly, he realizes the implications of what he just said. His head lowers in guilt and in sadness. He awaits the judgement of his friends, of the townspeople and of the law of the land.

"We should wait here for the guards," she finally says, "Tell them your story. If the symbol upon these men is what you say it is, the guards should be able to identify it. Perhaps that will satisfy them...and the common people as well." She moves the spear so that she can rest her forehead against it and closes her eyes. "As for the actions of our friends," she continues, shaking her head as if pained by her thoughts, "It would've been better if they had subdued these ruffians, so they could've verified your words to the guards and been brought to justice in front of all the common folk. It was your choice, Guilliam, that led your friends to kill on your behalf. You need to realize that, come to grips with it, and take responsibility for it. If the Blood Clan was truly intent upon slaying you, rather than teaching you a lesson, I suppose the law will support their actions here today...even the deaths that they have caused. You should still understand that you've sinned in the eyes of Anhur. Your natural greed to obtain a new lute...as well as the power and magic that Crayne had to offer you...led to death...not your's, but it easily could have been. I would urge you to pray to Anhur for forgiveness, and I will pray for you as well..."

"For now, give me a few moments to think upon your situation," she adds, opening her eyes again to look at the bard, "Excluding yourself from this mission may not be what the gods have decreed for Guilliam the Gale or Rinder's Six. I'll attempt to divine what your future holds..." She reaches up to the pendant that dangles from her necklace and casts her head upwards toward the sky.

The thoughts of prayer fill her head as she asks her god for guidance. Somewhere in the heavens above, she prays, he will hear her and teach her. The others simply stand and watch for what feels like an eternity. "Will the upcoming mission fare better with or without Guilliam accompanying Rinder's Six?" she asks, first in her head, then in silent whispers. After a moment, a distant voice, heard in Emma's head alone, seems to answer her question. "The path of the Gale, and the path you choose will run their separate courses for a time."

Opening her eyes, Emma lowers the pendant and turns her head to face the party. "Very well, then, Guilliam the Gale. You may do as you choose. I will not stop you."

Guilliam nods, a tear forming in his eye. He looks about the party, their solemn faces surrounding him. "I will go to the Duke, and I will ask--I will beg, if need be--for his mercy. And his protection." He swallows hard. "It has been an honor to serve with you. There will be songs of our glories past, and those to come. And I know that someday we will meet again." With one last look around the group, Guilliam the Gale slowly turns and walks out of the alley. Stepping into the brilliant sunlight, he turns into the street, heading back toward Castle Parton, the Duke, and his fate.

As the party solemnly watches Guilliam turn the corner and disappear from view, they hear a cough behind them. Hannibal turns his head at the sound, and quickly pokes Crayne with the handle of a dagger. "He's awake," he whispers.

Crayne takes the dagger and steps over to the thug, kneeling down in front of him. In his most sinister voice, he addresses him. "What you have done is unfathomable. You must leave. Run. Run, and never return here. Never speak of this, never think of this, ever again." Crayne looks deep into the man's eyes, making sure his Charming spell takes its full effect. The thug nods, opening his eyes wide. He then scrambles to his feet, and scampers down the alley, casting a quick glance behind him. "Run!" Crayne shouts at him, and he breaks into a jog, leaving the party behind. "That will buy us some time."

"I will not, under no circumstances, be waitin' here for no guards," Cy states flatly, getting on with the business at hand.

"Nor will I," Crayne says. "I don't know how they'll take to magic-users in the local courts, and I don't want to find out."

Storm clears his throat, speaking for the first time in while. "I be thinkin' we best be gettin' goin'."

Hannibal nods in agreement.

Edryd turns to Emma. "Guillaim will get the justice he deserves. If not from the Duke, from the gods. If we stay, we will be at the mercy of the guards and a justice will be carried out. But we have a job to do. We must continue with our mission. Recapturing that fort can stop an invasion, and many more lives will be saved than those lost here. There is a greater good in that, I think. Anhur's justice will befall all of us, be it now of later. I think it best we do what's right, now, and face Anhur and our actions when there is peace in the realm." He places a hand on Emma's, trying to calm her.

"I don't think justice will wait. Anhur may be patient, but he will not delay his judgement for the affairs of mortals and their wars, petty or no. But I see your point. There is in this a greater good, and we must rise above these sins in order to reach it. I am not finished with what happened here today, gentlemen," she says, addressing the others sternly. "Know that, and don't forget it. Now let's go."

After a short trip to the stable, Rinder's Six, now numbering seven, set off on horseback, bound for the Lowlands, southeast of the Raimead Dukedom and through the mountains. The trip is long. It will take at least six days with stops at cities and towns along the way for food and shelter. It is already past midday when the party departs the city of Parton, leaving behind the Duke, Sir Nigel, two dead--murdered?--men, and Guilliam the Gale.

The ride through the afternoon is mostly silent. No one cares to speak; each digests and reflects on his or her own terms. And there is no bard to sing highway songs to pass the time. Just past nightfall the party approaches a town along the main road. The Raimead Mountains loom on the horizon, their tall peaks much closer now than when the party left Parton.

The town is small: a handful of buildings surrounded by small houses and hills. The shops are all closed, yet the sounds of many conversations and the flicker of a warming fire leak from the tavern, situated right in the center of the town square. "Ye Tavern of Nickton," the sign reads above the door. There is a hitching post for the horses along the outside, near the door, and smell of ale and beer wafts through the cracked windows.

Canter volunteers to go in first, with the intention of inquiring with the innkeeper about rooms for the night and warm dinners. The others wait outside for the moment. The street is mostly empty, save two or three men and women passing through, entering or leaving the tavern. A few minutes later, Canter emerges from the place. He gathers the group and reports.

"The innkeeper's got rooms we can sleep in, and dinners we can eat. Nine silvers for each room for the night, and three for dinner, plus the ale. Hay for the horses and stabling for the night is extra, 5 silvers per horse." He scratches his mustache and runs a hand through his hair. "I could sure use a good meal and night's sleep. What do we all think?"

1. I hope this post was able to resolve everyone's differences regarding the morality of the marketplace encounter. Thank you to Guilliam's player for supplying an excellent plot addition with the Blood Clan, it certainly came in handy! Feel free to make additional comments in character regarding the conversation, but know that they won't be included in the "official" Turn 42.0. At this point let's try to put it behind us (like I suspect most of the characters would want to do!) and look forward to the events ahead.

2. Once again, I want to publicly thank Guilliam for his exemplary participation in this campaign. It is really a shame he must leave, but we appreciate all his thoughtful and creative contributions over the past two adventures, 40 turns, and 9 months. We have purposefully left Guilliam's fate undecided so that he can easily make guest appearances later in the campaign. So if you get a chance in your travels, Guilliam, and you would like to participate in a turn or two, you are ALWAYS MORE THAN WELCOME! I'll fit you in somehow! I hope you continue to follow along with the adventures of Rinder's Six on the web page.

I wish you the best of luck in your future travels. Thanks for all the songs, laughs, and fun.

3. As for the current status in Nickton, what shall the party do? Will you stay for the night? (How many rooms will you take, one apiece or will you double-bunk?) It will take two days to make it through the mountains on the main road and arrive in Merriam on the way to Lowfield. That will require one night of camping in the wilderness. Any specific ideas or actions in that vein? Does anyone want to stop in Merriam, or just pass through (possibly staying for one night along the way) and continue speedily to Lowfield?

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