<font color=steelblue>Jonal Turamarth <font color=red>35/78</font><font color=lightblue> 54/56</font>


"Oh, its no big thing, really. A lot of people act like its some miracle or some nonsense like that but in reality its just about a bunch of over-powered immortal bullies shoving their cattle around. But I am not here to preach. You have gone to a lot of trouble to hire my hand in something, and I cannot say that I care for your methods, but I understand them, coming from where I..."

Jonal stopped. Where had he come from?
Where had he acquired all this knowledge?

"Well...that's where I have a problem, you see...but anyway, I am here now, and you have got me listening at the moment, but the price will be higher since you nearly killed me to get me here."

Jonal maintained this hope that this was all some sort of job that needed doing, and that he'd be well-compensated for his trouble. He'd make this guy pay out his ass for the trouble he went through to be delivered here.</font>

[ 10-03-2005, 06:47 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

ooc: just realized how long it's actually been since I posted here...

IC:<font color=seagreen>Zevin the Juggernaut

The gnome looked over at Ghar, he always liked it when new people came to listen to his tales...

"Well, it all started long long ago, when I was but a wee lad, see back then things were as they are now, mountains were more rugged, trolls rarely accepted coin for passage, the Jansens held the monopoly on turnips and turnip related products like canaries, and everyone was just generally a hell of a lot meaner. Back then humans were just first learning to crawl out of their mud huts and build fires while we gnomes were perfecting gemcraft and learning about the play of light through the facets of gems. Learning about refraction and reflection helped pave the way for us to discover that we could influence light and the perceptions of others the same way, and what's more, we were good at, damned good. The secrets were kept tightly concealed shown only to a very few not of the same clan, eventually gnome began teaching gnome what they had learned and although it was kept strictly as a gnomish art different abilities were manifest and the power of illusion became greater. It was then that most of the gnomes decided to secret themselves away inside the Mount of Dreams, you probably haven't heard of it, it's been missing from your world for about six generations. But the gnomes... we built the place on dreams, illusion, and tricks of light, the mind tells you alot of false information, we were simply tricking the mind into doing the impossible, and making it possible through the belief in our art. Bridges that span farther than that village back there made of nothing more than a wisp of cloud and light, but as long as you don't think too hard about it, and how it works it's more solid that mithril steel. I left there nigh on to sixty human years ago to discover. Not just to find money, women, or magic, but to discover everything as it really is, What others learn about me is often little more than a trick of the light and vague sound, or a fanciful story of heroics that they want to hear, that they need to believe in order to build up their own hope. Reality bites as they say, and my art works the way it does because people are all too willing to grasp ahold of any illusion, no matter how incredible in order to add a bit of the fantastic to their lives. I've seen the fantastic son, and I'm out here to find the truth."

<font color=green>Ghar Dien <font color=red>47/47 <font color=lightblue>70/70</font></font>

He had pretended to be listening intently while the gnome told his story then realised from the silence that the tale was finished. He cleared his throat and spoke.

"A fascinating tale, Zevin. I might have to quiz you about the details later. However I was asked by Terak to do him a favor. He's really busy and he wanted me to ask you whether you would be up for some adventure in some caves to the north of here. Of course it wouldn't be without danger, but from what I have heard about you, you laugh in the face of danger."

Ghar wasn't exactly doing this the way Terak had proposed, since he had thought of a better try since. If it didn't work, he could still try Terak's proposition.</font>

OOC: tying off a loose end.

<font color=yellow>Lorax

<font color=red>No</font> - such a simple, short word, yet carrying so much power. Two letters, able to carry much more than their simple phonetical values. Depending on intonation, their meaning could be diverse. Empires had fallen, and others rose because of this one word.

It was strange that Lorax should think this, so close to leaving behind this world. As the remainder of his blood slowly dripped from his open wounds, soaked up by the ground, he meditated on the many possible meanings of this word. In his case the meaning was multiple. <font color=red>No</font>, he did not win the fight. <font color=red>No</font>, he had not been a coward, and had fought bravely against overwhelming odds. <font color=red>No</font>, he wasn't going to be able to succeed in the mission granted by the Dreamweaver. <font color=red>No</font>, he wasn't going to live.

It had been nine and forty years ago, when he first saw the light in this world. He had always been fascinated by the moon and stars, even though at heart he had been closer to the scorching hotness of the sun. He painstakingly opened his eyes for the last time. The thin sickle of the moon smiled at him. It was a fitting death. He, who had lived most of his life under the sun, taking his power from the realm of fire, was bidden farewell by the moon, she who never shared the sky with the sun.</font>

<font color=white>Shaka

Shaka nodded barely perceptibly. He turned his eyes directly at Jonal, and only know could he see that the cult's leader's eyes were not like any eyes he had seen. They appeared to be completely normal eyes, but deep inside them, he could discern the power in the man's gaze. The eyes stared unblinkingly at Jonal for what seemed to be several minutes.

Shaka suddenly broke eye contact.

"The price I shall pay you is your freedom. If you do what I ask of you, you shall be free from dealings with us, if you so wish for the rest of your life."

Shaka took a piece of parchment from one of the bookshelves next to him. Taking out a black feathered quill he wrote two lines on the parchment.

<font color=green>Ghar Dien</font>
<font color=seagreen>Zevin</font>

He then drew a line over each of the two names.

<font color=green><s>Ghar Dien</s></font>
<font color=seagreen><s>Zevin</s></font>

"That is what I want you to do." - Shaka simply said.</font>

<font color=steelblue>Jonal Turamarth <font color=red>35/78</font><font color=lightblue> 54/56</font>

"I never knew I was a prisoner..." Jonal snorted.

He looked at the two names on the hitlist.

Ghar Dien. Hmm...oh yea...the freak that I scrapped with in the alley that day that this all happened. Pretended to be some powerful mage. So he's still alive? Yeah, I can handle this. The other one...I do not know but I have a feeling that it'll not be hard to find him if my guess is right...

"Sure thing, boss. They're dead already. I just gotta go tell them that. Now can I have some provisions and maybe a band-aid if its not too much trouble?"</font>

<font color=white>Shaka

Shaka waved his hand and dark shadows swirled out of it and enveloped Jonal. A disgusting feeling took hold of him and for several long second Jonal felt as if he would throw up, but when he managed to regain his composure he realized that all of his wounds had closed.

"Now, before you go it might be useful if I told you where you can find these two. Half a day's walk to the northwest of here, is a camp, operated by an organisation, who specialise in crime and gathering information. Last I saw" he motioned at the dark crystal ball behind him " both of them were there."

"Now, as far as provisions go, I'll ask for your pack to be brought to you. It shall be waiting for you at the exit of these caverns. Oh and one more thing. If you were thinking of simply running away or helping these people, remember one thing. I'll know."</font>

<font color=steelblue>Jonal Turamarth <font color=red>78/78</font><font color=lightblue> 56/56</font>

Jonal smirked at the leader of this cult organization.

"Don't go worrying yourself over me. When I take a job, I do it. Besides, I owe a promise to one of those guys. He'll be thrilled to see me again. If you're done, then I'll start on my journey."</font>

<font color=lightgrey>~7 hours later

The sun was starting to set behind the trees, when Jonal, slightly annoyed with the monoton trip, suddenly heard movement from behind him.

<font color=orange>"Don't move or I'll shoot."</font> - came an archer's voice from behind him.

The man was about to tell Jonal what he should do, when a familiar voice rang from left of Jonal.

<font color=green>"Jonal? How did you get here? Is everything ok?"</font>

Ghar Dien's face showed a surprised expression, but it seemed that he still trusted Jonal.</font>

[ 12-15-2005, 01:37 PM: Message edited by: dplax ]

<font color=steelblue>Jonal Turamarth <font color=red>78/78</font><font color=lightblue> 56/56</font>

No, everything's not okay! I've got a guy standing behind me that wants to kill me! Could you at least keep your lackeys tamed?! What in the hells are you doing out here, anyway? I thought you were killed back in the temple."</font>