From: Balefire Kevin Gwartney wrote: > [slash] > K'than remained impassive, but within, he was quivering. If the next few > days with the old scribe are anything like their last encounter, he would > go mad. > K'than nodded. "Then K'tarin! We lost a man in the storm. You shall > join the cell as we join your group." > K'tarin bowed, his fist over his left breast, then took up position in > the square of Werre. To'Khar K'than faced Balefire again. > "We are with you." > Balefire dismounted and bowed deeply, his usual manner transformed as if by magic to one of great respect. "You are most welcome, To'Khar K'than. Welcome doubly, for as a warrior I have the greatest respect for the Werre and welcome your prowess added to our group, while as a mage I have some recollection of a prophecy alluded to in some tome I read long ago and only now gnawing at my memory. I believe that your presence is not only welcome but may indeed be necessary to the success of our quest. Allow me to present Twilight, my swordsister for many years, and J'layah, whose sister we go to rescue in spite of -- or mayhap because of -- this ancient evil aching to be cleansed. By virtue of my birthright, or mayhap of a complex fate, I bear the Bloodstone." The Dark Elf warmage had turned to J'layah as he mentioned her name, and now he spoke to her. "J'layah, would you be so kind as to introduce our new companions to the rest of our party, while I go with Alduin to recover his ink-jar? I would not seem ungracious, but I fear it will be covered by the shifting sand if we do not hurry." Taking the scribe by the elbow, he strode off to the other side of the rocky spur, where they had sheltered from the storm. When they reached the spot, Balefire frowned at the size of the depression in the sand. Brows furrowed in puzzlement, he threw himself into a frenzy of digging, clawing and flailing at the sand with his crimson-gauntleted hands while Alduin stood by in mute amazement at the gray and red whirlwind who sprayed great armfuls of sand out of the steadily widening and deepening hole. A triumphant shout burst from the warmage at almost the same time as a metallic clang rang out. "Hah!" The Dark Elf bellowed, crystal winking in the sun from his mailed fist emerging from the dustcloud half obscuring him. "Here is your ink-jar, Master Alduin, and may the gods witness that your losing it was fortuitous! I have found a *door*, Scribe, and I shall wager anything you like that it leads to yon citadel. Stand back...well back." The big Dark Elf took a two-handed grip on something out of Alduin's sight, and his scarred visage tightened with the strain of pulling at it. The muscles of his jaw bunched and his lips twisted into a feral snarl as he wrenched without effect. He straightened and took a deep breath, his face a study in determination. Bending again, he took a grip and heaved, his Daedric armor creaking as his breath exploded from between clenched teeth, and with a shriek of tortured metal the door was open. Panting, sweat running down his triumphant face, Balefire turned to Alduin. "Master Alduin, be so good as to go back to the others and tell them I have found a better door than the front one, and bid those who would come to follow me. I shall go a way down the tunnel I see revealed, to scout a bit. I shall hold the passage a bowshot or so farther on, or at the first branching, if there are any such. Pray bid them see to the horses, for they cannot enter here, and to follow as quickly as may be." The warmage turned and crouched to enter the portal, but Alduin caught a glimpse of his expression as he turned away. The merest glimpse, but the scribe shivered, for Death had peered out from those crimson eyes, and Alduin now knew beyond doubt why Balefire was sometimes called "the Implacable". Clutching his ink-jar, he hurried back to the others.