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Crayne really does have to bite his tongue this time. His rage builds to a high point as the dwarf responds in such an indignant manner. For one moment he raises his staff but then manages to keep his calm. Were these dwarves really worth keeping as allies? At this moment as far as he was concerned a few mages could come along, send a few fireballs down into their mountain and then block the entrances. Such rudeness and ignorance defied Crayne's belief and at that very moment he really was pondering on whether to go to Parton at all. But he knew it was the way forward for the dwarfs were better than Caerloon, but only just, Crayne thinks to himself. Such a stupid and inferior race, he thinks. He now understands the elven viewpoint towards this stunted race. Crayne looks to Naeron and whispers, "Such ignorance! I can now see your viewpoint my friend! These dwarves really are a silly race."

Emma's expression changes to one of confusion and stunned silence. She is equally amazed at Hannibal's passionate response, stunned at the amount of venom he has turned upon her, and confused by the reference to the Blood Clan. Having spent so many years in the temple library of Seden, she knows more about Rinder's historical events than the current state of affairs. Obviously the Blood Clan must be an evil organization of some kind...the reference to "blood" making that much clear. And now, Hannibal is making accusations of more than one murder...in fact, an organization apparently dedicated to murder.

With those realizations, a shadow of horror and revulsion passes across her face. She turns slightly to look at Bernigan in a different light, though she doesn't let loose of Hannibal's arm just yet. Would Duke Marlond's diplomat deny any of these charges?

At the mention of the Blood Clan Naeron stiffens. This is too much. Not only was he a turncoat and a murderer, now he was part of the Underground. If they aren't supplying Caerloon, I'm an orc's ass, he thought.

The priestess's heart is pained by the torment in Hannibal's voice. So much more is becoming clear to her now. This warrior-turned-thief comes with a chequered past, she knows, but it's a past that he can't escape because of the tragedy that surrounds it. She obviously begins to struggle with wanting to help someone she considers a friend and ally...and holding firm to her belief in Anhur's justice and that it must take a slower and more deliberate course than impassioned revenge.

The leatherman's son immediately captures Emma's attention as she hears the ring of his blade being unsheathed. "Canter?" she asks uncertainly.

"Spare us your words, charlatan!" Emma calls over her shoulder to Bernigan, trying to gain some control over the situation before it spiraled too far out of control. "Would you go so willingly to your justly deserved death by mocking this situation? You walk a fine line with even my patience, Bernigan..."

She looks between Canter, Hannibal, and the self-avowed murderer, trying her best to be the calm and level-headed mediator. "There's no doubt in my mind that this man must be guilty of what you charge," she finally says to Hannibal, "But slaying him here in front of the Dwarven encampment...before General Korg's hand-picked Captain...and before we even have a chance to undo this misunderstanding between Rinder and Storm's kinsmen is folly. It will undermine any trust that the Dwarves have placed in us...and the leaders of Rinder which we represent. And that will jeopardize any chances we may have at changing the course of this war. You would be removing a vicious thorn from your side while an avalanche of boulders rains down upon you and your countrymen. Hundreds, thousands more, will perish if these negotiations fail because of this, Hannibal. Is that a risk you want to take right now, at this exact moment?"

Hannibal still shakes with rage but at least now Emma's words seemed to be getting to him. Slowly his control comes back to him and although he still wants to draw Bernigan's blood, at least he is able to listen somewhat to reason.

Emma shakes the thief so he will turn her way and take his eyes off of Bernigan for a moment. "Look at me," she pleads softly, "Anhur knows your pain. He recognizes your need for justice. The voices of your beloved and your unborn child cry out to him. He cannot ignore them. But he also cannot condone another murder to avenge your loss at the expense of all the other lives he safeguards here in Rinder. Don't you see?"

Hannibal only shook limply as Emma grabbed him. He stared blankly into her eyes, not knowing what to think anymore.

"I propose this," Emma speaks so that her voice carries even to Captain Delk and the rest of Rinder's Six, "Bernigan, diplomat of Marlond, will be taken into custody this night...hereby charged with murder on multiple counts. We shall escort him to Parton at General Korg's request, but once we arrive there he will answer these charges before the high priests of Anhur and King Bryant, the newly appointed Regent. Hannibal Smith shall stand as a witness against Bernigan and I will represent this case by demanding a punishment of death by execution so that one life will be forfeited for the untimely loss of another. Justice will be served in this manner. Anhur will bless our negotiations with the Dwarves of the Raimead Mountains. Our nation will be spared in the conflict with Caerloon. And Hannibal will once more find peace with the spirit of his beloved Melinda finally laid to rest. This proposal accomplishes all that we seek. It simply requires patience and wisdom to see it through."

Hannibal smiles at this, greatly amused. "And should the courts take the word of a drunk, a thief and one time member of the Blood Clan...what would you think then? No priestess, you give your god too much credit. Bernigan would be free in moments and any counter he wished to levy would come upon my shoulders with great weight. I think I would much prefer to kill him tonight and suffer the consequences solely."

Naeron rushes to Emma's side as she confronts Hannibal. He interjects, "Would you throw away the entire nation of Rinder for your own revenge? Be strong, Hannibal... this filth will pay the price for his crimes."

For a moment Hannibal considers lashing out at Naeron. Who was this man that he could presume to know Hannibal well enough to council him? Then his senses come back to him and once again guilt was the flavor of the day. "Not long ago thief," he thinks to himself, "You were in the same shoes and Rinder's Six took you in." Hannibal only nods that he understands.

Crayne smiles in a response to Bernigan's taunting diatribe. "You are no predicament whatsoever my friend! You should never think that!" He looks at the creature in front of him as though he had just scraped him off the bottom of his shoe, "Trust me you are no predicament whatsoever!"

He whispers to Emma, "As much as I would enjoy watching Hannibal wipe out this scum, we've got to get this under control..." He continues to stand in support of Emma and Crayne.

He then looks to Canter, "Keep this scoundrel quiet, Canter!"

"Gladly," Canter says flatly, raising his sword and pointing it directly at Bernigan's nose but not striking...yet.

Crayne then beckons for Hannibal to speak with him in some privacy, "Hannibal come speak with me for just a small moment! That is all I ask! Bernigan isn't going anywhere you know that so what does a couple of minutes mean to you?"

Hannibal follows the mage, hoping the man has no witchcraft in mind. All the while, however, he never once takes his eyes from Bernigan.

Crayne begins, "Hannibal let us go on ahead for Parton!"

The mage stops as Hannibal objects, turning toward him and whispering angrily, "I will not walk away and let this serpent laugh at my back!"

Crayne continues, holding up an open hand. "No here me out! Once we are away from this place we can deal with this Bernigan out in the open! For if you kill him here he has the satisfaction of ruining the negotiations with these dwarves and bringing charges upon yourself for murder. Let us not let this happen Hannibal, for you are worth more than this. I know what you are feeling my friend for I am one who has felt more pain in my life than the majority."

Crayne clinches Hannibal's shoulders, "You must calm yourself now Hannibal Smith! Take some long breaths and walk away! In my estimation it will the greatest thing you ever do if you can do this, Hannibal. You know in your heart that this Bernigan will be dealt with in the manner he should be! But now is not the time! The time will come I promise you that! But not now! Walk away Hannibal! Walk away!"

Hannibal weighs Crayne's words carefully. Did he mean revenge as Hannibal did or was he wanting to allow the courts to deal with the matter as Emma suggested? Hannibal's head and his heart ached with indecision. He did not want to let his friends down yet this may be his only shot at salvation.

Crayne looks at Hannibal who seems on the verge of breaking point. He knows that there is a very strong soul within Hannibal and knows that his request of Hannibal now is a huge one. One that is probably the biggest request of his life. He only hopes that Hannibal will walk away from this and delay his anger. He can understand Hannibal's position and if Crayne himself were standing in front of the men that killed his parents he dosen't know whether he himself could walk away! It was all up to Hannibal now, Crayne knew. He waits there patiently looking at Hannibal and shielding Bernigan away from him with his tall stature.

Hannibal smiles at Crayne, the smile a man gives when he has no other emotion left to give. "I'll be right back," he says plainly as he sidesteps the mage and heads for Bernigan. His walk is with purpose and his eyes never leave the other man's. As he closes, his sword begins to raise, ready to strike the death blow.

Canter can hear his friend coming and steps aside, knowing that it is Hannibal's duty and Hanniba's right to exact the crushing blow.

"Bernigan," Hannibal shouts, "For your crimes I will deliver upon you the punishment of death!" Hannibal breaks into a sprint at this point, doing his best to sidestep all who get in his way. He gets as close to Bernigan as possible and still stays out of striking range when he comes to a halt.

"But not today coward." With that, Hannibal smiles and sheathes his sword, backing away from the man slowly. "Your day will come soon Bernigan, I just don't want you to know when."

With that done Hannibal goes back to Crayne and winks at the mage. "When the time comes, right or wrong, I do it my way. Agreed?"

Crayne nods in response to Hannibal. "Agreed!"

There is little expression on Crayne's face at the moment. He remains calm and passive although the emotions inside him tell a different story. Crayne then makes his way over to Emma and Naeron, "We will see you in Parton! Good luck my friends!" Crayne nods. He doesn't even look towards Delk or Bernigan. As Crayne makes for his horse he mutters to Hannibal, "Let's get out of this place for I cannot stand it any longer!"

Canter is thunderstruck, his ego and momentum ebbing away as he slowly lowers his sword.

Bernigan smiles, even lets out a little laugh. "Fine, Hannibal Smith. How very much like you. Make your threats and run away. And run away." He sheathes his own sword, turning his gaze to Canter and winking. "A strong showing there, fighter. A man of your passion and loyalty is hard to come by." He extends a hand to Canter's shoulder, but Canter shrugs him off, turning to walk away.

Emma grinds her teeth, frustrated that Hannibal refused her offer. But still, she considers, bloodshed was avoided--for now. She knows that there will be a time and a place for the revenge Hannibal seeks. Looking at Bernigan, whose eyes follow Canter's slouched body, she speaks plainly. "Gather your things. Let's go."

Naeron nods, picking up his things and preparing for the precarious climb down to the horses below.

Storm just stands there, arms at his side. His mouth is shut, his eyes look to the dirt cavern floor. He wasn't really surprised. He had left in a huff, and the other dwarves' reactions to him didn't exactly predict a warm welcome. But he was far from happy.

He turns around, looking for a moment at Karelth, who does his best with an uneasy smile. Then to Cy, who does the same, but knowing Storm a little better, doesn't dwell on the niceties. Storm's gaze returns to the floor as he returns to his seat. He leans his head back, closing his eyes, fighting the tears.

Why did his father choose to dwell on those years with Nightshade's gang? Was he not able to see Storm had passed them behind, even sworn to kill them on sight if he ever came across them again? Could he not take his own son's word that the people with whom he now traveled were honorable.

Or was human honor not enough? Thorn seemed to hold his son to a higher standard. And perhaps rightly so. But had Storm ever lived up to that standard? In all his years with the Strongblades, he had always been a bit of an outsider. No one had really approved of his two-handed fighting method, or his volatile temper. He knew his relationship with his father was never a warm one. They were always at odds, usually with his father upbraiding him for the mischief he would often find himself in.

Though nothing compared to that night. He had shown them, that's for sure. Never again would anyone accuse him of being a strange one ("umm-gett" in the dwarven tongue). Of course, they should have known better than to anger young Storm, but they did anyways. And he took that strange style and used it. And that umm-gett struck them hard, with deep wounds that would take years to heal and leave large scars. His father should have been proud of his strong son, defending his honor with his swordsmanship.

But his father just didn't see it that way, did he? He may have been the wisest, but he just wasn't wise enough, was he? It took his daughter, Storm's only sister, to see what really needed to be done. Only Wynd, she knew that the best thing would be for Storm to go. Best for Storm, and best for their father. Was it meant as the final word, so to speak, when she took their father's two best blades and handed them to Storm?

He took a deep breath, enjoying the stuffy cave air. His stomach ached, but not of hunger or pain from wounds physical. This was a wound much deeper. He knew now how much he wanted his father to be proud of him. Like he was proud of Wynd's sons; they were strong. Was Storm not strong? Were his friends not honorable?

"[That boy did nothing* in his life worthy of the honorable Strongblade name!]"

The words echoed through Storm's mind. Was he not honorable?

"The gods be cursed!" Hannibal yells in frustration, pounding one fist into another. It was the horses. They had been left hitched to the tree, but now stood apart, mingling and slowly chewing on some nearby blades of grass. "Emma will not be happy," he says to Crayne as he can see some of her dresses sitting in the mud, pulled from her saddlebags along with other papers and items.

"Who could have..." Crayne begins, surveying the damage. Fortunately, he travelled light, and his most important possession, his spellbook, stayed with him at all times.

"Goblins. I'm sure of it," Hannibal responds, grabbing one horses reins and pulling it back toward the tree. "Cy and I ran into that group of them outside the cave, but they don't travel alone, they're always in groups. I bet there were more in the area, and they ransacked us. Damn!"

They take a few moments to pick up the things on the ground and collect the straying mounts.

"If they were going to steal our things and our money, why not the valuable horses?" Crayne asks, watching Hannibal do all the dirty work.

"Probably the horses don't fare well in these mountains, aside from in the passes. That's why we had to leave them here. Besides, you know how Storm doesn't like to ride these big animals. I'm sure goblins feel the same way," Hannibal replies, grunting as he tries to cajole one of the horses back toward the tree.

"Well, I for one don't want to be here when Lady Emmalya arrives to see her things in such a state. Let's go. I want to put as much space between us and them anyway," Crayne replies, brushing off his robe and preparing to mount one of the horses.

"Yeah..." is all Hannibal can manage, reminded of the other party and the passengers with whom they travel.

Crayne says little on the way to Parton as he knows that Hannibal needs some time to himself. His anger does begin to fade however, the further he distances himself from the dwarves. So obnoxious and hideous, he thinks, so caught up in their own profit. Crayne now understands why Storm left when he did--the only thing he couldn't quite grasp is why Storm would have wanted to go back.

Many things enter and sift through his mind as the two travel through the country on there way to Parton. What to say to this Paros was one of the primary thoughts, but he had that gut-wrench feeling again about this man. The feeling he had when his name was first mentioned. He knew that he would have to talk to this Paros and that something was leading him to this man. What it was Crayne had little idea. Perhaps it was just a silly premonition! No it couldn't be, Crayne reassures himself. This Paros was involved, he was sure of that! But how deeply? That was something Crayne would have to find out. Also, there were many other things entering his mind. The mental state of Hannibal at the moment was another thought. He worried about his friend who was riding along side him. His meeting with uncle Kalrelth and the ring was another. Also, the fact that at the moment Crayne didn't have an offensive spell memorised in his repertoire and the fact that he had gained levitate recently but hadn't the chance to even use it.

Taking a swig of water he sloshes it through his mouth and then spits it on the ground. Then after a few moments silence Crayne starts to hum a tune. That was something Crayne was not at all accustomed too, but it just felt like the right moment. As he continues he begins to recognise it as being one of Guilliam's and it isn't long before it brings a smile to the face of Hannibal. The two of Rinder's Six gallop on towards the great city of Parton.

"No!" Emma curses, surveying the damage. "Highway bandits. If only we hadn't come under attack, we could have found a more suitable place to...but there would have been no way to take all of our things, and no time to..."

Naeron grinds his teeth in frustration. "And this," he says mockingly, to nobody in particular, is dwarven territory. Lawless..."

"Come on," Canter says, inspecting his nearly emptied pack. "The sooner we get to Parton the sooner I can get my hands on a new set of leatherworking tools."

Delk is the last to emerge from the mountains, pulling a pony behind him.

"Bernigan, a horse if you will," Emma says pointedly, "we wouldn't want you left behind all by yourself. 'Twould surely be a shame if the same band of theives that came by here for our things were to find you all by your lonesome..."

"Most kind," Bernigan says, taking the reins of one of the horses and mounting it quickly.

The ride to Parton is uneventful, like it was for Hannibal and Crayne, riding about an hour ahead. The sun begins to rise as they continue to gallop along the main road, which parallels the coastline. They then turn onto a road heading south, toward the capital city of the Raimead Duchy. The mountains are well behind, now, though their peaks loom in the distance along the morning's horizon.

The air is chilled, though not quite as cold as further south. Winter is definitely upon the land, though Raimead's proximity to the sea tempers nature. Approaching Parton from the north isn't particularly distinctive from the southern approach. Small collections of houses in the nearby fields, vineyards, and ranches become more cluttered, beginning to form small towns.

The road continues to narrow shortly after noon, and soon the city wall can be seen ahead, the large gate manned by four guards.

"Five coppers, toll. Five coppers," one of the guards chants, holding out a pouch into which merchants with carts and other passers-by drop a few coins as they enter the city.

"Goodday to you," Naeron says to the guard as he approaches, riding in the lead. "I am Naeron Thess, liege to Sir Bryant. Please allow myself and these men, and women, to pass. We are on official business for the Regent." Nearon is sure to show a small cloth with the insignia of the Great House of Raimead stitched upon it.

"Of course, Mister Thess," the guard replies, bowing slightly.

"Thank you," Naeron answers politely, turning to the rest of the party with a smile. "Shall we?"

1. Items stolen from the horses, presumably by goblins:

Canter: change of clothes, candles, leather gloves, leatherworking tools

Crayne: ink, quill, parchment, candles

Cy: rations, clothing, chalk, parchment, charcoal, ink, quill, chess board

Emma: extra robe, extra breeches, extra tunic, rations, lantern, oil

Hannibal: rations, extra breeches, tunic, vest

Naeron: tunic, vest, torches

Storm: rope, grappling hook

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