The Assassins - Episode 22

Episode 22 – Otto of the Circle

The Assassins	Azareth - Wizard 1st Level LE (PC) Creighton - Fighter 1st Level LE (PC) Craven - Fighter / Rogue 1st/2nd LE (PC) Keldirk - Rogue 2nd level NE (PC)
Locale	Saradock's home
Date	7th Coldeven 582 CY (Common Year)
Time	Early Evening.

Caruthers Will there be anything else, sir?

Saradock No Caruthers, that will be all. The meal was exemplary as always.

Azareth (extricates a toothpick from his mouth) Mmm, yes. Lovely meal; especially the pheasant.

Caruthers Quail, actually. How were the potatoes?

Azareth The round, white balls?

Caruthers Yes.

Azareth I was wondering about those. Um, they were ... interesting, I've never had them before.

Caruthers I don't doubt that, sir. Saradock imports them all the way from the Free City of Greyhawk.

Saradock Yes, I have a colleague who supplies me with potatoes in exchange for spices. Dwaven May - proprietor of the Wizard's Hat Inn - is her name. Look her up if you're in that neck of the woods, it's a meal you'll not soon forget.

Caruthers Good evening, gents. (leaves)

Saradock (pours a glass of port for himself and offers the decanter to Azareth) Was there something you wanted to discuss, Azareth?

Azareth (takes the decanter and fills his glass) Yes. First and foremost I wish to extend my heartfelt gratitude for helping to arrange my entry into the academy. I am very excited at having the opportunity to avail myself of the academy's resources.

Saradock (waves his hand) Think nothing of it.

Azareth Secondly, I needed to get away from the others - I have been having somewhat of a rough time of things. Two nights ago I was struck in the shoulder with a crossbow bolt. And while the wound was not mortal it did have a dire consequence. (pauses - unable to find the words)

Saradock Go on...

Azareth (rubs his shoulder absentmindedly and adjusts the bandage) Do you remember that day when we were attacked on the road from Ringroads?

Saradock Yes.

Azareth I'm not sure you know the full story... ?

Saradock Continue...

Azareth I almost died that day, Vesper. When that man came at me with his sword I froze; paralysed with fear. (shakes his head resignedly) I had hoped I could banish the fear, learn to operate as the others do. But the other night I froze again. I could think of nothing but my own mortality. I put the lives of the others in jeopardy through my own inaction.

Saradock How so?

Azareth We were in The Whistler when-

Saradock The Whistler?

Azareth The tavern I told you about earlier.

Saradock Oh yes, continue.

Azareth (swallows and stares into his glass) We were in The Whistler when the goblin attacked. I was struck in the shoulder with a crossbow bolt after the others ran upstairs. A few moments had passed when I heard the call for a lantern. It was... it was... it was as if I had lost the ability to act. All I could think of was the pain and the danger - knowing that at any moment my fragile existence could come to an end. That all the years of study could be laid to waste by some thief in the night.

Saradock It sounds to me as though your training is incomplete. Maybe you aren't ready for the pressures of field work... ?

Azareth No... yes, perhaps you're right. (thinks for a long moment) No amount of training could ever prepare me for the peril of martial conflict. I don't think more training would help me; it's not the same as the real thing - it doesn't involve the same risk.

Saradock It seems you already know the answers. There is no ointment to cleanse this wound, Azareth. No magical fix. Experience is all you require.

Azareth (nods, his eyes never leaving the glass in his hands)

Saradock But a word of warning, Azareth. Look at me!

Azareth (raises his eyes)

Saradock I will not imperil the lives of the others. Tell me now if you want to be reassigned or given further training. Do you think you will be able to work through this on your own?

Azareth (thinks) Yes, Vesper, I believe I can.

Saradock If I thought for one instant that you posed a serious threat to the others I would have you sent back to the Olmans before sunrise. You have come to me with glowing recommendations, Azareth, and the Elders are rarely wrong. This fact alone should provide the impetus to overcome this hurdle.

Azareth I have been praised throughout my life for being exceptional and brilliant, unequalled among my peers. While that is true within the study halls, I am yet to prove it to myself out here - where it matters. Right now I would trade all that academic praise for one kind word from my fellows.

Saradock (nods) In time. For now, Azareth, I want you to report back to me in one month. If, by that time, you have not mastered your fears I will not hesitate to notify my superiors and let them decide your fate. Is that understood?

Azareth Yes.

Saradock It seems to me you know the problem and what you must do to solve it. It's a matter of implementation; practice if you will.

Azareth You're right. I know what I have to do. Immerse myself in danger, temper my steel in the fires of adventure (rises) Thankyou for a pleasant evening. I think I simply needed to talk to someone and I know the others wouldn't understand. (turns to leave)

Saradock Before you go. There are two things I wish to bring to your attention.

Azareth (turns and raises his eyebrows)

Saradock Firstly, I have some rather unpleasant news. My sources tell me that Lord Shemmonbyrne has offered a substantial reward to find the killers of his son-in-law.

Azareth Shemmonbyrne? The name is familiar; who is he?

Saradock He is the father-in-law of the late Sergeant Dunne - the man Keldirk and Craven assassinated a while back. The terms of Shemmonbyrne's bounty are to capture the killers of his son-in-law and bring them to him - dead or alive. Several well known bounty hunters have already taken up the hunt. (retrieves a piece of parchment from the sideboard) Those that I am aware of are; (reads from the list) Urshh Fraxx - a half orc who hails from The Bone March. He sometimes travels under the pseudonym of "The Doctor". There is an elf named Ral Maw, a human called Illius Quall and a half-elf known as Sebastian Zephor. Those last three are locals. I believe Sebastian is a mage, but don't quote me on that. He is a very private individual.
The other matter is of some importance. I have received word from Jade, our agent in The Great Kingdom, that Ambassador Shade's entourage will be arriving in Del Mord in a few weeks. Their ranks include two non Family assassins. Once they arrive here they are to be identified and eliminated. As I receive more details I will forward the information to you. The Family will not tolerate free-lance assassins, their deaths will send a clear message to all parties that The Family is not to be trifled with.

Azareth (nods) There is nothing to be done in the short term?

Saradock (shakes his head) Not at this stage. When I have firm dates I will let you know.

Azareth I will pass the information on. Thankyou again for the lovely meal. (leaves)

Creighton was happy; he had a mug of ale in one hand and a fistful of cards in the other.

Since meeting his three friends at the Green Dragon he was certain he'd never felt better. Shayne, Macca and Calahan were a welcome change from Azareth, Craven and Keldirk. When he was here at the Green Dragon he didn't feel stupid. He had come to realise that ever since leaving the Olman's with Azareth he had started to feel more than a little awkward; Creighton knew he was no genius but spending those weeks at sea - trapped with Azareth - drove the point home. With Shayne, Macca and Calahan he managed to rise above the walls he had built and the real Creighton had begun to re-surface.

Creighton	(lays his cards face down on the table) I'm out.
Shayne	(smiles) I'm in for five. (tosses five copper coins into the pile on the table)
Calahan	(takes a long drink) I'll see your five, and raise you another two.
Macca	(throws his cards on the table) Too rich for my blood.
Shayne	(thinks) I'll see your two. (places his two copper pieces on the pile taking the total to almost twenty copper)
Calahan	(smiles and reveals his cards)
Shayne	Damn! (throws his cards on the table) How do you keep doing that?
Calahan	I've won just as many hands as Creighton. It's been our night tonight, eh big fella? (smiles)
Creighton	(frowns) I haven't won in four hands, I think my luck's turned. I'm gonna get another round of drinks. (stands) Play the next hand without me. (scoops up his coins and heads towards the bar)

Creighton picked his way through the crowd to the bar. The taproom was full and the constant hum of conversation forced him to almost shout his order to the busy bar-staff. While he waited he surveyed the crowd, mostly dock-workers, sailors and even a few Rhennee. This tavern played host to all manner of clientele, but armed adventurers and mercenaries were definitely in the minority.

A large jug of ale arrived on the counter in front of Creighton who paid the barman and headed back to his table. As he negotiated a path through the bustling crowd he was nudged forward. He managed to prevent spilling his ale but not before he had bowled over another, smaller patron. The dwarf was sent sprawling, his red hair and beard fell over his face obscuring his features. Within moments the dwarf was back on his feet and glaring a Creighton who simply stood, regarding the small fellow with a blank stare.

Dwarf	Ye' should watch where ye' goin' laddie. Ye'd be well served to remember that not all folk walk as high as ye'self. (dusts himself off and readjusts his tartan clothes) If I'd thought ye' had meant it, I'd lay ye' down faster than a two copper whore.
Creighton	(chuckles) From the dress you're wearing I think you might even be a two copper whore!
Dwarf	(continues to stare, before smiling and extending his hand) Me name's Mordain MacDonaugh. I like ye' style laddie. Shows ye've got spunk. And it's no' a dress, man, 'tis a kilt!
Creighton	(shakes Mordain's hand) Me name's Creighton. Now get out of my way, I've got a card game to return to.
Mordain	(grins) Cards, eh? Would ye' mind if I joined y'all.
Creighton	(shrugs) Not if you don't mind losing your money.
Mordain	(winks) Aye laddie. I'm always looking for ways to help the poor.

They returned to the table and Creighton introduced Mordain to the others. After a short time it became obvious that Mordain was an exceptional card player. The winnings which had previously been shared between Creighton and Calahan, soon piled up in front of the dwarf. The five of them were getting along very well, trading insults and sharing jokes. They played long into the night until Shayne, Macca and Calahan decided to call it a night and left Creighton and Mordain alone at the table. After the others had left, Mordain turned to Creighton.

Mordain	Ye're a big man laddie. What do ye' do?
Creighton	I've worked as a mercenary for caravan's between Del Mord and Chathold. I'm kind of between jobs at the moment.
Mordain	Ye' look like a man who's seen some action. Ye' hand never strays far from the hilt of ye' sword.
Creighton	(eyes narrowing) I make it a point to keep my sword close at hand; trouble doesn't always announce itself and it's better to be safe than sorry.
Mordain	(nods and drinks from his mug) Aye, that's a wise policy, laddie. Speakin' of swords, I've got me a relative here in D'Mord who be a fine smithy. I should introduce ye'.
Creighton	I've already got a sword.
Mordain	Aye, that ye have. But not one of Cormiad's swords, ye' aint! Cormiad's got a way of using silver in the forging of his weapons. They are fine pieces of work.
Creighton	(shrugs) So?
Mordain	(fills his mug) Normally, silver weapons are brittle and break when used against steel; it makes them more than a little useless in normal combat.
Creighton	So why use silver weapons at all?
Mordain	Certain creatures - (lowers his voice) undead and were-kin - can only be struck by silver weapons; steel does 'em no harm. For these creatures you need silver, but ye' can't always have silver weapons handy. Carrying a spare sword is often impossible, and using silver all the time is bad for ye' health. My cousin, Cormiad, has figured a way of combining silver with steel to give the weapon the advantages of both kinds, strong enough against rival steel but still capable of whackin' creatures that are only harmed by silver.
Creighton	(snorts) I bet they're expensive.
Mordain	(smiles) Aye laddie, they are more expensive than steel. But think of the advantages!

For the first time in a long time, Azareth knew exactly what to do.

He needed to face his fears head on; to take a risk and overcome danger on his own. He knew he could no longer afford to burden the others with his continued inaction. The group was only as strong as the weakest link and Azareth knew he was definitely their weakest link. He returned to The River Snag Hostel and was relieved to find the room empty. He quickly gathered some of his equipment - including the magical orb - and went directly to the alley at the rear of The Whistler. He knew this place was rarely occupied and indeed, upon his arrival, he found the area deserted.

After considerable research, the young mage felt he could unlock the power of the orb. He had planned to wait until his powers grew before using the orb; but he realised that success here could be catalyst to recovery. He needed to work on something he could understand - not fighting, stealing or killing - but magic. Magic he understood. This, at last, was an opportunity to break the shackles of fear and perhaps return to the others as a worthwhile contributor.

His research had shown him that in order to use the orb he needed to make mental contact. He had been taught several exercises which allowed him to relax his body and free his mind and he felt that once in this state he should be able to contact the orb. Azareth placed his equipment on the ground, sat with his back against the wall and cradled the orb in his lap. He closed his eyes and began the exercise; several minutes later he was prepared. He opened his eyes and gazed into the orb, watching as the tiny flame appeared to flicker and grow, he continued to stare at the dancing flame and soon felt as though he was being pulled into the orb. He instantly realised his danger and concentrated hard to maintain control over his body. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he felt a change; the play of light stopped its erratic movements and began to follow a simple rhythm. Azareth's heart skipped a beat, a mixture of pleasure and fear, and he became aware of a cold, emotionless voice inside his mind...

Voice	What do you wish of me?
Azareth	I seek your obedience and I seek your power. I am Azareth of Westwall and I demand your respect.
Voice	Such a thing does not come cheaply, what do you offer me in return?
Azareth	I have no need to offer you anything. It is you who must serve me, should you require anything, it shall be up to you find it for yourself. I am not a giver of gifts, you will be my servant or I shall keep you from serving anyone.
Voice	(silent for several moments) What do you require of me?
Azareth	I require understanding, I must know how you can be of service?
Voice	I am a doorway, I provide access to creatures from the lower planes. Through me you are able to garner servants to do your bidding. But they will make their own demands - exact their own price - I have no control over them. I can be used to summon these creatures, that is all.
Azareth	Will these creatures cause me harm?
Voice	No. They are your servants and cannot cause you harm.
Azareth	Very well, I command you to bring forth one of these creatures. I require the least of those you can summon.

Abruptly the contact ceased. Azareth had the feeling that he had been awoken from a deep sleep and it took him a few seconds to orientate himself. He looked at the orb which had begun to pulsate with a magical light and grow warm in his hand. Sparks, like miniature lightning, played about the orb and then arced brightly to a space three feet from where Azareth sat. The lightning cut the air and Azareth could see a darkened landscape through the hole which the orb had created.

Several tense minutes he waited, and still nothing came through the gate. Azareth began to sweat, despite the chill air. He rose and was about to flee the area when he noticed a small creature step through the gate into the alley. Once the creature was through, the gate snapped shut and the alley was plunged back into natural darkness. The creature stood a little over one foot tall, small, leathery wings curled about its wiry, little body and a pointed rat-like tail twitched as the creature studied its surroundings. It's skin was facetted and had the appearance of grey stone. Two pinpoints of glowing red regarded Azareth with undisguised hatred.

Creature	(looking around) Who is it that has summoned me?!?
Azareth	(out of his depth but wanting to appear in control) I, Azareth of Westwall, have called you to do my bidding. What is your name, servant?
Creature	(stares at Azareth and grins, displaying twin rows of needle-like teeth) I am Lor, master. What is it you require?
Azareth	What is the price of your service?
Lor	(flexes his wings) As always, master, the service dictates the price.
Azareth	(not really knowing the truth of that statement) Of course. (thinks for a moment then indicates the Whistler) You will go inside this building. You will tell me all there is to know about the spirit that resides therein. You will tell me what manner of spirit it is, where in the tavern it resides and any weaknesses it may have. If you happen upon a goblin you will slay it. Is that understood?
Lor	Yes, master.
Azareth	(swallowing hard) What is the price for this service.
Lor	A death. I require the orb to be bathed in the blood of a holy priest of light.
Azareth	Very well, once you have completed the task I shall carry out the payment.
Lor	(snatches a spider out of a nearby web allowing it to wiggle between its claws) The payment is already due, master. (smiles evilly) By calling me forth and demanding service you have accepted the terms and now you are committed to uphold the bargain.
Azareth	But, I did not know... ?
Lor	I do not make the rules, wise master. I, like you, am but a slave to them.
Azareth	(thinks, still a little overwhelmed by the scope and power of the orb) I accept your terms, now go and complete your task!
Lor	(squishes the spider and nods, a wicked gleam in its eye) The transaction must be completed before dawn, it seems we will both be busy.
Azareth	(snarls) Be about your task, slave!
Lor	(deftly scales the wall of The Whistler and disappears down a chimney)

Azareth waited outside The Whistler for several minutes, listening and searching for any sign of movement. He thought back over the arrangement he made with the small creature and felt that he had somehow been tricked. No matter, if the creature could find out some information the price would be worth it. Azareth almost jumped out of his skin when the tiny fiend appeared before him - an expression, which Azareth likened to terror, etched on the creature's demonic face.

Lor	(hisses) I will not do this task. Set me another.
Azareth	We have an arrangement! My payment in exchange for your service. I have not the luxury to decide your price, nor do you have the luxury to refuse my request. Now go back and complete your task.
Lor	I will not! I can not... there is a presence in there which can see me. The spirit - it is dangerous, master. I am unable to do what you ask... set me another task, for I refuse this one.
Azareth	(regards the fear in the small creature's voice) Very well. (thinking fast) I want you to locate and spy on another being. You will watch him for twenty four hours then report back here to me and disclose all you discover.
Lor	(tentatively) The price remains the same.
Azareth	(smiles) No! Since you have refused my first task I demand new terms, you will receive payment in two days not one. (pauses) Is that clear?
Lor	(the fire returning to his eyes) Yes, Master, the payment is fair. The orb is to be bathed in blood by the rise of the second sun. I accept your terms, wise master. Who is it you wish me to find?
Azareth	Ambassador Shade, the envoy of the Great Kingdom to Del Mord. He can be found in the High Quarter, you should have little trouble. Now go about your task, return only when it is complete.
Lor	(scurries away, turning invisible before rounding the first corner)
Azareth	Excellent! (smiles)

Craven and Keldirk were busy of preparing themselves for their engagement with the sage, Ethan Mulkynd. Azareth was nowhere to be found and Creighton, as usual, was drinking and playing cards at the Green Dragon.

Craven	Keldirk, pull your cloak around yourself a little tighter; if anybody in the River Quarter sees you dressed in the finery of the upper class anything is liable to happen.
Keldirk	(draws the heavy, woolen travelling-cloak around his torso - covering the expensive, tailored suit underneath) Better?
Craven	(nods) How do I look? (smoothes down his own tatty travelling-cloak)
Keldirk	(shrugs) Like you normally do - like an idiot. (examines Craven's attire) I can still see your pretty, new boots.
Craven	Hmm, there's not much I can do about those. We'll just have to take the gamble that no one notices. Besides, the sun's gone down and they'll be hard to distinguish.
Keldirk	Are you taking weapons?
Craven	Only my rapier. It'll most likely get confiscated at the High Quarter gates, but if not it will add a certain something. How about you?
Keldirk	Two wrist sheaths, a throwing knife in each boot and a small knife in a slimline sheath beneath my tunic that hangs here. (pats the area at the small of his back) If it looks like we're going to be searched I'll hand over the slimline.
Craven	I don't expect we'll need weapons, anyway. It is only a dinner engagement, after all. Let's go.

The two assassins left The River Snag Hostel and began the long walk along the cobbled streets to the High Quarter Gates. They were relieved to leave the dangerous River Quarter behind; to be discovered wearing the clothes of the rich would be to invite certain trouble. Before long the assassins entered the Artisan's Quarter and their pace slowed appreciably. They still had over an hour before they were required at Ethan Mulkynd's estate.

Craven	(breaking the silence) You never told me who the expert was.
Keldirk	(annoyed at having his train of thought broken) What the hell are you talking about?
Craven	You mentioned that this Ethan Mulkynd fellow had shown the Argos sample to an expert. Who is the expert?
Keldirk	I haven't got a fucking clue. We'll find out soon enough. Now, shutup! I'm thinking.
Craven	Excuse me for breathing. (pauses for a moment before smiling) What are you thinking about?
Keldirk	(sighs) If you must know - I'm thinking about how I'm going to kill that Undertaker.
Craven	The Undertaker? Haven't you forgotten about him, yet? Let it rest.
Keldirk	(stops and spins Craven around by his shoulder) Listen here - I don't tell you how to run your life and you don't tell me how to run mine. Got it!?
Craven	(slaps Keldirk's hand away) No, you listen! (lowers his voice, mindful of his locale) We are members of the same group and I will not have you jeopardise my life on some revenge kick. The Undertaker knows I'm an acquaintance of yours and I don't want him to come looking for me once he's killed you!
Keldirk	That'll never happen - the Undertaker is a dead man!
Craven	You can be that sure?
Keldirk	Yes. (starts to walk away) I am that good.
Craven	(follows Keldirk down the road) What did the Undertaker do to you anyway?
Keldirk	He pissed me off which is enough to get him killed. Revenge is a great motivator, Craven. Don't forget it.
Craven	That sounds ominous, Keldirk.
Keldirk	(shrugs) My name is Val Rorn tonight. Don't forget that, either!

A little over an hour later the two assassins stood at the gates to Ethan Mulkynd's estate, deep in the heart of the High Quarter. Craven and Keldirk had been requested to hand over their weapons at the High Quarter gate; but they hadn't been thoroughly searched and Keldirk still had his wrist sheathes and the two knives in his boots. The grounds of the estate were immaculately manicured, and the whitewashed walls were remarkably clean. There was a small, stone guard-house several yards from the main gates and a solitary figure could be seen through the barred window. He seemed intent on something in his lap. A crushed stone pathway lead from the main gates, past the guard-house to a large manor situated atop a low hill some forty yards away.

Craven	(removes his cloak, rolls it into a ball and shoves it behind a bush near the gates, then smoothes down his suit)
Keldirk	(throws his cloak into the lowest branches of a nearby tree) So, how do we get the guard's attention? Throw a bloody stone at the window?
Craven	(smiles despite himself) No, we use the bell. (motions to a small bell hanging beside the gates)
Keldirk	(sheepishly) Oh, I didn't see that amongst all the gilded bullshit. Ready?
Craven	(nods) Remember, let me do the talking.
Keldirk	(sarcastically) Of course, master.

Keldirk rang the bell and immediately the guard looked up and peered through the window. He leaned across the table and pulled on a cord before again looking down in his lap. Several minutes passed and nothing happened.

Keldirk	Now what?
Craven	I don't know. We wait I guess.

Suddenly the main gates swung inward and a robed figure emerged from the front door of the manor and waved them on. As they walked a little further, the gates swung closed behind them and the guard emerged from the small guard-house. In one hand he held a short halberd while the thumb of his other was looped in his weapon's belt.

Guard	Hold it right there gentlemen.
Craven	(stops)
Keldirk	(stops and takes half a step behind and to the side of Craven)
Guard	What do you want?
Craven	We have a dinner engagement with Ethan Mulkynd.
Guard	My name is Bertrand, I guard the gates for Mr Mulkynd and serve as protector of his estate. Are either of you armed?
Craven	No, we are both unarmed.
Bertrand	I trust you will have no objections if I search you?
Keldirk	(notices that the robed figure has begun the walk down the path towards them)
Craven	Do you treat all your master 's guests like this?
Bertrand	No, sir. Just the suspicious, unknown ones.
Craven	Well, we have no weapons and I am insulted at having to undergo a search! I am not some common street thug and I resent being treated like one!
Bertrand	I'm just doing my job, arsehole-
Keldirk	(cutting in) I'm Arsehole, he's Fuckface. Now be a good little servant and move aside.
Bertrand	(glares at Keldirk and grasps his halberd in both hands) Why don't you-
Robed Man	(approaching the scene) Is there a problem, Bertrand?
Bertrand	Nothing I can't handle, Yofgist. These two are refusing a search.
Yofgist	(looking at Craven and Keldirk) Why is that?
Craven	(extends his hand) My name is Craven of Karaban and this is Val Rorn, my trading companion. I object to being treated like a common criminal. If that is what you people call manners then I will have nothing to do with you. (turns to leave)
Yofgist	Please - don't leave.
Craven	(pauses)
Yofgist	You must understand, Mister ... Craven, Del Mord is rife with undesirables and it is an indictment on today's society that men like Bertrand need ever be employed. (To Bertrand) We will do away with the search, Bertrand. These two will cause no harm this evening.
Bertrand	(eyes narrowing) How can you be so sure?
Yofgist	(chuckles) Because, dear boy, I know who sits at Mister Mulkynd's dining table tonight! (looks to the two assassins) Follow me, gentlemen. (starts to walk up the path towards the manor)
Craven	(follows)
Keldirk	(raises his middle finger at Bertrand then follows closely behind Craven)
Bertrand	(disgusted - re-enters the guard-house and continues patting his pet ferret)
Yofgist	Please forgive Bertrand's behaviour. He is a little too preoccupied with his own importance. He means well and does a surprisingly good job, but unfortunately his etiquette is somewhat lacking.
Craven	Think nothing of it. Let's consider the matter closed. Yofgist, I take it you are Mister Mulkynd's chamberlain?
Yofgist	(chuckles) No, I am his Resident.
Craven	Pray tell, what is a Resident?
Yofgist	I take it you're new to Del Mord, Mister Craven?
Craven	You may call me Craven and yes, we only recently arrived in town.
Yofgist	Then permit me to explain. Most well-to-do nobles sponsor apprentice mages, like myself. They pay for entry into the Academy of Magic and provide free room and board at their estate. In return for these favours the apprentices protect the nobles, their family and property from would-be thieves or ne'er- do-wells. Residents are expected to intervene on the noble's behalf in time of trouble. It is a satisfactory arrangement, especially for the young apprentices. (shakes his head) The academy's entrance fees have become quite exorbitant and the price of books, materials and access to the library has to be seen to be believed.
Keldirk	Who else will be sitting at the dinner table?
Yofgist	(opens the front doors to the manor and shows the two assassins inside) You will be formally introduced in good time, Mister Rorn.

The foyer of the Mulkynd estate was lavishly appointed. In the centre of the glass-domed room, rising fifteen feet into the air, stood a large, marble statue depicting a young, angelic female staring lovingly at two lovebirds perched in the palm of her hand. A well tended bush grew at the feet of the statue, it's large, leafy fronds cascaded over the statue's base. A vibrant green creeper twisted up the legs and torso of the angel, exploding into colorful flowers around her neck. A polished Ipt staircase rose from right to left, sweeping along the far wall. An oddly shaped doorway could be seen beneath the ornate stairs, probably a cloakroom, Keldirk reasoned.

One of the three doors in the foyer opened, and a well dressed man emerged from what appeared to be a kitchen.

Yofgist	(gesturing to the butler) This is Rogerson. He will announce you.
Rogerson	Gentlemen, your names?
Craven	Craven of Karaban.
Keldirk	Val Rorn.
Rogerson	(nods) Please follow me.

Rogerson, walking with a slight limp, showed the assassins through the red-wood door and into a small dining room. A fireplace burned heartily in one wall, bathing the room in a warm glow. A sideboard ran the length of opposite wall and sported various smoking implements, seemingly gathered from all over the continent. Against another wall hung several ugly tapestries depicting various plants and herbs growing in the wild. A splendid, oaken table occupied the centre of the room seated at which were two men, who rose as the assassins entered.

Rogerson

Sirs, may I announce Mister Craven of Karaban and Mister Val Rorn?

The first man, dressed in a charming red smoking jacket waved the assassins through, while the second - a portly fellow in voluminous robes of purple and gold - placed a bookmark on the page of a book and closed the cover.

First Man	Come in, gentlemen. I am Ethan Mulkynd and this is Otto of the Circle.
Otto	(nods in greeting)
Craven	Thank you for sparing the time to see us, Mister Mulkynd.
Ethan	Please, call me Ethan. And think nothing of it; Sam is an old friend of mine and the sample he gave me bears considerable interest to Otto, here
Otto	(nods)
Ethan	Come in and make yourselves at home. (indicates two empty seats) Rogerson, you may begin serving dinner now.
Rogerson	(leaves, closing the door behind him)
Craven	(takes a seat)
Keldirk	(takes a seat, careful not to slide his chair too far under the table)
Otto	(places the book on the sideboard before sitting down)
Ethan	(walks to the sideboard and refills his pipe) Can I interest either of you in some tobacco? No? I trust you don't mind if partake in some pipeweed? One of the benefits of being a herbalist. (smiles) You can guarantee the finest quality herbs. (takes his seat).

After several minutes of small-talk a delightful entree was brought to the table. Otto and Keldirk remained silent throughout the entire meal; Ethan and Craven doing most of the talking. It was obvious to Keldirk that something was on Otto's mind. He seemed somewhat lost in thought, often being caught out when asked a question. One thing was certain, however, Otto enjoyed his food. Both Craven and Keldirk were amazed at the sounds of culinary delight the obese fellow made during the meal. Otto hardly spoke a word until the dessert plates had been cleared.

Otto	(belches then leans back on his chair, folding his arms across his sizable belly) Ethan, superb. You never cease to amaze. What exactly was that? The main course I have figured out; but the dessert? It has me stumped.
Ethan	Sugar-coated Gibbly eggs.
Otto	(eyes narrowing) Gibbly eggs? You're lying, I've had Gibbly eggs before.
Ethan	Not stewed, sugared and rolled in quimple-dew, you haven't. (smiles with an air of superiority)
Otto	(closes his eyes and rolls his tongue around his mouth, then nods resignedly) Mmm, you have me again, my friend. (reaches into the pouchbelt at his side and withdraws a tightly packed bundle of leaves) Here is your payment, you fiend. One of these days I will turn the tables.
Etahn	(laughs) Perhaps, Otto, perhaps. (looks to a bemused Craven and a thoroughly bored Keldirk) But enough chitter-chatter, let's get down to business.
Otto	(looks at Craven and Keldirk, seemingly for the first time)
Keldirk	(averts his eyes hurriedly, feeling a little uncertain about meeting the man's strange, hazel-green eyes)
Otto	Let me apologise for my apparent rudeness and total lack of dining etiquette. (looks at Ethan fondly) I am a man who enjoys his food and whenever I come to the Mulkynd estate I know that I must concentrate if I am to avoid being robbed. It is somewhat of a game; Ethan tries to prepare a meal and I try to guess what it was.
Keldirk	(sarcastically) Fascinating, I'm sure. What about the sample? Sam gave Ethan a sample of the grey ooze and I understand you may be able to identify it?
Otto	(looks at Keldirk disapprovingly) You are a rude young man, aren't you? Never-mind, we are all young once. Yes, I have been able to identify your sample and I should be able to provide some understanding. May I ask how you came by it?
Craven	(cutting in) We found it in the body of a friend of ours; there were no innards - just the grey slime. To this day we don't know how our friend died, and we desperately want to know.
Otto	Permit me to shed some light on the subject. Several years ago I took under my wing an elven female apprentice, Anathasia. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful creature I have seen in my forty-four years. Anathasia and I became lovers and I entertained the idea of making her my wife. (looks to Ethan with a sadness in his eyes) It seems an eon ago, my friend.
Ethan	(nods)
Otto	(looks back to Craven) During our short time together, Anathasia confessed that her Elven spirit had long since departed. I had not fallen in love with a beautiful young elf as I first believed, rather a rare magical creature known as a Trill. Just by sharing her secret with me, she said, she was 'breaking a sacred oath.' She described her natural form as that of a small, worm-like creature that is unable to survive long outside the body of a host. When her previous host - a human male - began to die she knew she needed another host. She chose to inhabit the body of an elven female. Sadly, Anasthasia died in an adventuring mishap. Her body was recovered and brought to me along with the body of the Trill. Besides the fatal wounds the elven corpse contained a large hole, just below the ribcage. Her adventuring party, unaware of her true nature, became frightened when the Trill emerged from the hole. Sadly, they attacked and killed the Trill, believing it to be an infestation of diabolical nature. That was over a decade ago. (pauses to drink from his glass) Once I had composed myself, I performed a post-mortem on both bodies in an attempt to learn more. Trills are simply another organism, like a dwarf, a cat or a mushroom. (sees the confusion on the assassin's faces) What that means is, Trills are natural animals that originate from this plane; just like you and I. They have sharp fangs, not unlike those of a snake, which are capable of injecting a powerful poison. This poison is strong enough to immobilise even the most resilient dwarf. Presumably, Trills would use this poison to paralyse a potential host, then burrow in, thus killing the host, and take control of the body. Before long the entry wound must heal and the host becomes indistinguishable from other members of its race. Subsequent research has indicated that a Trill can change hosts in two ways. I believe the most common method is to locate a potential host at death's door, leave the current host, and enter the new body. It is clear some powerful magics are at play as the new host is controlled by the Trill. The second method is, I'm sure, fraught with danger and is probably avoided by Trills. If the host body dies unexpectedly, the Trill has only a few hours to find a new host before it too dies. It appears that the internal organs of the host body are consumed in the transformation leaving behind the grey residue which you brought to Ethan's attention. I know that is a lot for you to digest, but I will be happy to answer any questions.
Keldirk	(looks to Craven) What do you think?
Craven	(thinks) It sounds feasible, but...
Otto	But what?
Craven	I find it hard to imagine my friend as a walking corpse. He seemed so ... human.
Otto	Don't think of your friend as a zombie; the relationship is symbiotic in nature, not parasitic, and there is no influence from the negative elemental plane whatsoever. If the Trill had never occupied your friend the chances are he would have died. As I said earlier, it is most common for a Trill take control of a corpse than a living creature. Your friend was probably already dead when he was taken.
Craven	(confused)
Keldirk	Does the new host remember anything about the old hosts?
Otto	Definitely. Anathasia had clear recollections of each of her previous hosts. She told me that with each new host a new personality develops but the memories and experience of the former hosts remain intact.
Keldirk	So why aren't there more of these things?
Otto	Anathasia told me that with each change of host there is always a period of adjustment. This is a time of conflict - as memories and emotions collide. It is a dangerous period in the life-cycle of the Trill and many older Trills are unable to reconcile the past lives and ultimately go insane. But the major reason we aren't overrun with Trills is their inability to easily reproduce. Anathasia had the same chance to identify other members of her race as you or I; namely none. Because of this, Trills tend to be very promiscuous forever fornicating in the hope that they couple with another of their kind.

Craven and Keldirk continued to ask questions of Otto but it was clear that he could tell them nothing more about the nature of this bizzare creature. Soon after, they took their leave of Ethan Mulkynd and shook shook hands with Otto. They paid Rogerson the agreed consultaion fee and he showed them to the door. Before long they were walking in the darkened streets of the Foreign Quarter, their adventuring cloaks pulled tightly around them.

Craven	It's a fair bet that the guy who raped and killed Rose Petal is the new host of the Trill that was inside Argos.
Keldirk	(nods) It also explains the skill which was used to slice her throat.
Craven	That might also account for the attempt on my life.
Keldirk	Outside The Silver Gauntlet?
Craven	(nods) If that was Argos' new host then I was indeed lucky to be alive. The crossbow was Argos' favourite weapon and, believe me, he knew exactly how to use it.

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