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Hannibal had spent the majority of the journey quietly observing the terrain as it passes. He had not spent a lot of time in this part of the country and found it to be rather remarkable. Maybe it was the long winters in the east spending the night in any stable or tavern he could find that made this territory so beautiful.

Several times he makes eye contact with the others during the trip and smiles warmly, seemingly content with himself. In the evening, when the others seemed content with conversation, Hannibal found himself a soft spot of earth and lay back to look upon the stars. He was so close now he could taste it. He didn't care for the idea of going up against more of the Red Dragon Mages but saw them only as an obstacle in his quest for vengeance.

Slowly he had drifted off to sleep, dreams of Bernigan impaled on his sword filling his mind and bringing a smile to his face. But now, that pleasant dream seemed but a distant memory as the weakened figure of Kathelth stands before Crayne at the northern crossroads.

"The Red Dragon School."

Crayne looks down for a moment as he hears those words mentioned yet again. He looks at his staff for a moment as he recollects the Battle of Dillend where the Red Dragon mage Gaven was defeated. Quickly he turns the emblem of the Red Dragon away from Karelth. He would explain in time, but at the moment Crayne guessed that it was something that Karelth wouldn't want to see. Why though, Crayne wondered, would the Red Dragon School send mages after his Uncle? What was going on here? It enraged him to think that not only were they commencing war on the kingdom, but now they had begun to attack his own family.

In Crayne's eyes a sudden darkness and an unnerving look on his face could now be witnessed from the rest of the group. One which they had never seen the likes of before in Crayne. Clenching his right hand hard Crayne remembered back to the dreadful event that had haunted him for so long and had kept him awake for nights on end - the witnessing of his own parents' death. The mysterious mage who had left his parents' bodies broken by the destructive forces magic. It now occurred to him that this mage could have been of the Red Dragon School and that now they had turned their attention on his uncle. What was it that they were after? What could it be that this terrible School could be seeking from Crayne and his family?

They would not have it what ever it was, Crayne thinks to himself. He had promised himself that never again would he be rendered so useless. That was why he had commenced his training in magic in the first place. Now though, if his suspicions were to be proven true, he would not rest until the Red Dragon School was dealt with and that included Dire Luthor. Did Dire know something which he hadn't told Crayne about? Perhaps he wasn't thinking straight. Perhaps the rage inside him was turning to paranoia. At the moment however, Crayne was mad and he sure wasn't going to rest until he found some answers.

Suddenly as Crayne switches back to the present blood begins to seep through his hand and drop onto the ground. Unclenching his fist Crayne looks at Karelth.

"Karelth do not worry now for you are with friends. Calm yourself and sit down. Now, you must tell me all that you know about the Red Dragon School and why they are after you. You must be honest now and tell me what is going on here! Is this to do with my parents and their deaths? For if it is you must tell me now!" Crayne demands with a pained expression upon his face. He sits there eagerly awaiting the response of his uncle.

At the mention of the Red Dragon School, Emma stiffens and watches Crayne and his uncle closely. 'What sort of relationship do these two have with the school?' she wonders, 'I thought the Highbrow had never known of their existence until he met his friend and mentor, Dire Luthor. And what's this about his parents? They are both dead?'

She comes to a realization that the mage's life has to be a lot more different from hers than she's ever realized before. After all, Emma's family is alive and well, and living peacefully on the Serralund estate outside of Seden. The priestess pauses a moment to reflect upon that. 'In some ways, I guess I've always taken my family for granted,' she thinks, 'I just assumed they'd always be there whenever I went back. Crayne's never even been able to do that...'

She finally shakes herself from her reverie and concentrates on Karelth's explanation.

Karelth takes a moment to calm himself, handing Storm's canteen back to the dwarf with a warm smile. "I...I don't know..." he says, looking down at his feet, "...if this has anything to do with your parents. They were wonderful people, and I see in you much of the goodness in them..." Karelth smiffles a bit, wiping a tear from his eye.

"You see," he begins to explain to Crayne and the whole group, "I do dabble a bit in magic. That was how I was able to give Crayne his first instruction. I am by no means a master mage. In fact, I am mostly a simple man, a brewer by trade. It all happened many years ago...

"I had delivered a few barrels of my fines ale to one of the taverns in Halen, the city where I once lived. I was quite friendly with the owner and barkeep. It seemed that two days prior an old man had taken a room upstairs, but not a soul had seen him since. The owner was worried, and understandably so, I believe. So he asked me to do him a favor and check on the old fellow. In the meantime, my friend the owner would fix me a good meal.

"I knocked on the door once, twice, and thrice. No answer did I hear. Deciding to try my luck I pushed the door slightly and found it opened without much effort! Inside was the old man, lying between the sheets of the bed. I spoke to him but received no answer. The poor old fellow had passed on to greater planes in his sleep.

"After a few hours the undertaker had arrived to take the fellow away. The man had left some things in his room, however. A fancy robe, a fine embroidered book, and a ring. Seeing as no one knew of the dead fellow's next of kin--we didn't even remember his name!--my friend the barkeep kept the robe and the book, for he liked collecting fancy books, though he was no good at reading them. He just liked the pictures, and this one was beautiful," Karelth smiles as he remembers the scene.

"Anyway, my friend told me to keep the ring. He told me it was a gift, for many years of friendship and good drink. I thanked him and pocketed the gift. A few weeks later I was at the carnival in town, entertaining the children with some of my cantrips. --Crayne can tell you how much I love making those kids smile!-- Well I noticed a couple of men lingering in the back. At the end of the day they approached me. Tall, learned-looking men. They asked me about the ring. Well, of course I was quite suspicious, for I wasn't wearing it. I had hidden it away in a secret place and not showed it to anyone! So I told them I didn't know what they were talking about. They looked at me hard and then offered me quite a bit of money for the ring! And all the while I was thinking, if they are willing to offer me money for it, it must be worth something, so I'd better hang on to it until I really need the money!

"In the end they walked away, but not before one of the men got in real close and said in a low voice, 'The Red Dragon School knows you have the ring. The School will be watching.'"

Cy then asks, "So he was a Red Dragon Mage, then?"

"Yes, I do believe so," Karelth confirms. "How else could they have found me?" He looks to Cy, then back to Crayne. "After nothing unusual happened for a few weeks I forgot about the issue completely, thinking perhaps those men had forgotten about me! I had even forgotten the ring for a number of years...those years you stayed with me, Crayne.

"Well, one week ago those men returned. They entered my home and demanded the ring once again. Naturally, I refused. And then they began to get violent. They must have cast some spells of fire, because soon the whole house was aflame! They had hit me and struck me by other magical means, I'm not quite sure exactly. Then they left me for dead in the burning house. Once they were gone, I escaped, thinking I would get as far away from Halen as possible, and began riding. I went through Merriam for a few days, but decided to keep moving. And then I found you," he smiles, patting Crayne's shoulder.

"But, you do have it?" Crayne asks intently.

"Have it? Oh yes! Yes of course!" Karelth laughs, clearly in better spirits in the presence of his nephew. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a golden ring. On the device is a small engraving of what appears to be an ocean wage. "I may be growing older, Crayne, but I still have my wits about me! I would not give this up. Especially after all it has cost me..."

Naeron's eyes narrow at the appearance of Crayne's uncle and the story he tells. He is unnerved at the mention of the Red Dragon School in this light, after hearing so much of Dire's heroism and help to Rinder's Six. Perhaps this was the other segment of the school he had heard tell about. He decided to simply listen for now, for anything that might stand out, or that he might add to the situation.

Storm, still withdrawn within his own thoughts and trying to prepare himself mentally for the confrontations that might lie ahead, looks weary and beaten, as if he hasn't gotten much sleep the last night or two. His face seems droopy, the few wrinkles he has seem deeper and more pronounced. While still young by dwarven standards, he looks to have aged considerably over the last 48 hours. He takes only a casual, maybe reflexive glance toward the uncle of the Rinder's Six mage, seeming not even to have the strength or will to get up and make himself presentable.

Ever weary of magic, as most dwarves are, the only thing Storm asks of Karelth is a simple "Ye be a mage, too?" He doesn't mean to have the question come off as condescending, he just, as a dwarf, wants to be 'warned' when a magic user is about him.

Karelth nods to Storm. "Yes, I do know a little about magic. But not nearly as much as Crayne knows by now, I am sure. For I can't even seem to figure out what makes this ring so valuable..."

Upon the answer, Storm simply grunts and return to his thoughts, all the while staring at the ground.

"Well," Emma says to Karelth, "you are welcomed to join us for some of the journey. But know that our path will not be an easy one, and in our travels we have come across a Red Dragon Mage or two...and there is always the chance we meet another."

"If you don't mind," Karelth replies, "I will join you...where are you headed?"

"The northern pass," Hannibal replies, implying with the tone of his voice that he wants to keep moving.

"Northern pass? But I've heard that the dwarves have..." then he realizes why. "I see, well, I know of a small city on the coast there, near the northern pass. Perhaps I'll ride with you as far as that city."

"Okay then," Naeron says, wanting to continue on the journey back toward Raimead, "let us go."

Once the party hits the road, Storm sits atop his horse in an awkward fashion instead of walking it, as he does most of the time. At some point, he flips a casual comment Naeron's way: "Hey elf, next time can ye get me a pony? These big buggers be meant for ye giants." He snickers a little.

Naeron smiles and nods, "Storm, I will try to remember that..."

Storm also makes his way over to Emma and taps her on the knee. "Aye, priestess, I's got me a question for yuh. Me not sleepin' well of lates...me guess...er, well, ya know, the dwarven happenin's and such. Me's wonderin' if ye's got one a yer hocus pocus magic stuffs ta help me get rested? Suren me's better off bein' rested fer the mountains." His gruff exterior seems gone, and for once he has no defensive quirks or anything showing. The only thing there is the question he's asked.

"Hocus pocus magic stuff?" Emma smiles and gives a short laugh. "Storm you're priceless," she says, noting he seems a bit more vulnerable at that particular moment, and reaching out to stroke his cheek and beard, "I don't really have a magic cure-all for everything you know? Your sleep-troubles aren't a wound suffered upon the battlefield. If something keeps you awake, tossing and turning at night, it's a mental wound...from a bad memory or a guilty feeling...that may or may not be deserved. Sometimes our conscience can be the harshest punishment of all, you know?"

"I think maybe something's in your head that's trying to fight its way out," she tells him, "And, it's you that it's fighting with. If you win and keep it locked inside, it will only come back to fight you again at a later time. The only way to find a permanent peace is to let it go...let it out. All your worries. All your regrets. All your self-afflicted wounds."

She looks close at the burly Dwarf, riding so high upon his man-sized horse. "I'd be happy to listen to anything you might want to say about it...," she says, "...once you figure out what it is that's causing the problem. One way or another, there's an emotion wrapped around it, though. It could be fear for your kinsmen. It could be fear for yourself. It could be anger that calls out for revenge. It could be guilt that calls out for retribution. It could even be love for something that was accidentally left behind that you never realized until now...

"Identify the source of your troubles, Storm," she smiles encouragingly, "And we can talk more about it tonight, if you'd like...away from the others, of course, to insure your privacy. I promise you that anything you tell me, remains with me. It's called confession, and it's a service that every priest provides when he or she can...especially to their closest friends. I even used to use Edryd to discuss my own problems before he was taken from us."

Storm listens to Emma's words with a droopy look on his face. Normally, he would have turned away distracted, or perhaps thrown a jokingly gruff comment her way about 'stoppin' yer yappin'," but instead, much unlike his normal personality, he calmly looks at Emma and takes in all her words. The rest of Rinder's Six might not have known Storm capable of paying attention to something for that long.

He crinkles his face a little upon the mention of confession. "Aye, me not be needin' something like that, me think. If what ye's says be right, then me nights aren't because of some happenin' long ago, but me thinkin' it just be me nerves o' what's to come. Eh...ye know, we dwarves still have nerves, too! He ha!!" He manages to crack a smile through his droopy exterior. His face soon returns to a more calm and tired fashion again, though. "Me left the mountains over a tenyear ago, and me not been back since. Me's just worried over what me dad and family gonna say when me's sees them again. Me dad can be...stern." Anyone who has known a dwarf at all probably could have told Emma this, but for a dwarf to say it about another dwarf, it must be serious.

He shrugs. "Aye priestess, I's dunno. Me's hopin' it ain't gonna be that bad, and me thinkin' I probably be worryin' more than me should." He begins to say something else, but then stops and simply nods at Emma, a soft smile creeping to the side of his mouth.

"Alright then," Emma agrees, "If it's the uncertainty about meeting your friends and family after a tenyear, that could certainly be what's affecting your sleep. But, ask yourself, what is it about your relationship with them that has put your nerves on edge in the first place? Did you leave something unsaid or unfinished before you left the mountains? Or have you changed so much since you left them that you're worried how they will accept you now? Or is it us? Are you worried about how they will perceive your involvement with Rinder's Six?"

Emma reaches down and pats her horse as she rides along, continuing to speak even though she doesn't look directly at the Dwarf. "Only you know what troubles you deep down," she explains, "And only you can resolve it...though others can advise you on the subject. I'll be happy to talk about or listen to any ideas you have, and maybe after such discussion, your spirit will be eased enough that your sleep comes more easily. I'll admit to you, though...I'm not an expert at understanding the nature of Dwarven society. You're the first of your kind that I've ever spent time with..."

Then, she grins at Storm, and says, "And so far, I'm pleased to know you, Storm of the Strongblade Clan."

That evening the party makes camp alongside the road. Once again, the sound of the waves can be heard in the distance and the clear night sky offers its canopy of stars for the viewing. Emma spends some time reviewing her spells and praying, while Storm sets some traps and Hannibal and Canter cook some of the catch.

"Cyveiliog," Karelth says, chewing on some of the meat as they sit around the fire, "that is such a noble sounding name. Does it mean something?" he asks.

After listening for Cy's answer, Karelth looks to Emma and Crayne. "You mentioned, priestess, that you have come across a Red Dragon Mage or two in your time. Yet you do not exhibit the fear or hatred I usually sense when this subject is raised. What do you know of this 'School'? Aside from my experiences, which I have told you about, and the rumors of powerful wizards in the woods creating powerful wands and staffs, I know very little. I regret not being able to give Crayne more than a stern warning about the School before he set off for months ago." His face wears a serious expression and he listens carefully to whatever answer Emma may be able to provide.

"And Crayne," he says with a smile, "I can see you have grown much since we last shared a meal together. And no doubt you have expanded your knowledge of magical arts and strengthened your will to control the magical forces I can just barely summon. In your new wisdom, can you determine why the Red Dragon School would want this ring so badly that they would try to kill me and burn my home to get it?"

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