Well, it seems as if this flatlander city of Nvym-Dar has a few surprises in
store for a Mountain warrior like myself.  The past few days have revealed a
few of them, and been not uneventful in their unveiling.  Let me begin with
the beginning, which was inauspicious enough.  It began with armed guards
knocking upon our door.

            Now, most people would not be glad of hearing a mailed fist
rapping on their door first thing in the morning, and at first neither were
we.  We were even less sure of how to greet the day when Shali, dressed only
in her tunic, answered the door to discover three armed and armored Ishtaran
Guards at our door, looking very serious.  Serious however, is the only way I
have ever seen an Ishtaran of the Church Militant look, and so I was not too
worried, yet.  

 Ishtar is the Goddess of passion and warfare..and these Warriors of Ishtar
can most certainly said to be passionate about warfare, whether it be warfare
upon the enemies in Kathor, or upon the weakness and unworthiness in their
own soul.  The overall effect, is to make them passionate about being
serious, and seriously passionate.  And all this seriousness and passion, was
heavily armed, and standing outside our door.  So, we did the only thing that
seemed to be done at the time, we invited them in for coffee.

 They declined the coffee, saying something holy sounding about the comfort
in physical pleasure not comparing to the comfort in the service of the warm
embrace of Ishtar.  We let that be as it may, and asked of them their
business, whereupon they told us that the Goddess had smiled upon us this
day, for we were informed that it is the law of this land, that the
punishment for the offense of Deadly Assault..(by which is meant  an assault
in which a deadly weapon is drawn and the victim receives a wound that
requires medical attention, although to tell the truth, any weapon which is
not deadly, is not a weapon... at least, by Mountain Folk thinking) is a
hefty prison sentence, in addition to a fine of between 100 and 500 Gold
Shillings, which is paid to the victim.  So, the Priest/Guards of Ishtar were
here to inform Shali, Brianna and Merlaine that the prisoners who had
assaulted them last night had been found guilty of Deadly Assault, and were
still under investigation on the charge of Slave Taking..for which the
penalty is the removal of a leg for the first offense, and Death by Axe for
the second.  

 Upon conviction of Deadly Assault, the attacker's household goods had been
seized, and assayed to see what their sale might bring at auction.  One third
of that estimated sum, namely 305 Golden Shillings, was heretofore to be paid
to each of the three assaulted women.  The guards then handed Merlaine,
Brianna and Shali each a bag, full of Gold Shillings!  Well, we had been
about to break our morning fast with coffee ( oh luxury of luxuries!) but,
upon receiving this boon, decided upon Elvish wine instead.  

 We then sat around our suite, and meditated upon the laws of chance, and
fate, and destiny, and many other such things that one is wont to discuss
when one drinks Elvish wine on an empty stomach.  

 We discussed plans for forming a vigilante brigade of sorts, with the three
women whom our party humorously refers to as "Slaver bait" trolling the
streets of this city at night, looking attractive and helpless, until someone
tries to mug them.  Even though we counted that we could increase our monies
considerably by this effort, we figured the guards might get suspicious, if
they kept showing up at our door with bags of gold confiscated from some
hapless nere-do-well.   Around noon, we decided we had best do something with
this day. 

 Shali begged out of the days excursion, saying she was feeling ill.  At
first I put it down to the humans notorious inability to hold their drink,
but it soon became apparent that she had caught the unpleasant Wasting
Sickness from Bob, who was now fully recovered, and as full of wine and ready
to go as any of us.

 Now, back during the whole Derlen fiasco, we had rescued a number of
individuals who had been captured and their minds taken over by the cult
there.  One of these individuals, we feel sure, was an assassin  by trade.
 Upon recovering his own wits, asked us what year it was, and when we told
him, fell into a deep melancholy.  He then told us, quite plainly, that he
did not like the method by which we had saved his life, but that save his
life we had.  By way of thanks, he told us that when we reached Nvym-Dar, we
should look up Jock & Sleeze's tattoo parlor and ask for "the special."
  This dubious individual then told us that if anyone ever found out that he
had divulged this information, he would be killed.  He also said that he was
years late in completing an assigned task, for which he was positive he was
already under sentence of death, and so felt no more harm could come from
telling us this.  He then obtained a horse from a local farmer and rode off
at high speed.

 So, standing there in front of the Four Winds Inn, in the bright crisp
morning snow, we decided to give Jock and Sleeze's place a look-see, and we
set off to find this rumored tattoo parlor.  Since we had no idea where this
place might be, we set of in a random direction.  Bob's thinking was that
sailors and people like that get tattoos, and they also tend to inhabit lower
class taverns, so we should seek a low class tavern and inquire.

 After some time of wandering, we found ourselves next to the great walls of
this enormous city.  Bob tried hailing the guards that could be seen walking
their station 60 feet or more above us.  When he asked where he might find a
tavern, the guards responded that he did not seem to need another tavern this
day.  Vasquez, impatient with our progress, as usual, determined to ask the
first passer-by, rather than a guard.  I am afraid that Vasquez's visage (
she has a prominent scar down one side of her face, and stark white hair,
which she claims is a result of some horror she saw in her past) combined
with Bob's lack of one of his ears, gave the poor woman a fright, and she ran
off muttering something about the "evil eye."

 The next person we encountered was a wealthy looking woman with several
servants carrying her days shopping.  This woman scolded Vasquez soundly for
stopping one of her servants, as she was in a hurry.  But, this woman,
irritated at us though she was, gave us not only direction to where we might
find a tavern, but her servants also gave us directions to some of the better
armorers and weapon smiths in the city.

 Soon after that, we located the tavern that we had been directed to, and
also had a decent lunch.  The tavern was named the Pendragon Inn, and the
fact that the Inn-keep's name was Arthur seem to cause some amusement and/or
consternation amongst my companions, although I never did figure out the
reason for it.

 We also managed to find someone who knew of Jock and Sleeze's, although the
individual was so drunk we could barely make out his words.  It sounded like
he was saying "Down by the south dock, where they throw all the dead fish."
 Unfortunately, that is exactly what he was saying.

 We found Jock and Sleeze's, near where the mouth of the river empties into
the great harbor of Nvym-Dar.  The south docks, from the looks of them, have
been abandoned for years, and the local fishermen have taken to throwing all
the offal from the days fish cleaning here.  The rotting timbers of the docks
were strewn with huge piles of rotting fish innards.  The stench was truly
appalling, and I hate to think what this place smells like in the summer
time.

 The place looked like nothing more than an oversized outhouse, but there was
a crudely lettered sign above the door that proclaimed   "The brothers
Sleeze, tattoos."  Upon knocking, the door was opened by a creature I have
never before seen!  It was gnome-like being, a scant two feet tall, even
Vasquez and I towered over it! It's face was a mass of wrinkles, with a huge
bulbous nose, and a pair of tiny yellow eyes.  It invited us in, and then
went to wake up his brother.   The brother looked just like the other one, so
much so that I really could not tell them apart, and after a while lost track
of which one was Jock, and which one was Sleeze.  The fact that their last
name also seems to be Sleeze did not help matters.  After a time of confusing
conversation, for these beings Common is not that good, they seemed to figure
out that we wanted "the special."  They then closed and locked their door,
and kept checking outside by peering through the cracks between the boards of
their walls, of which there were many.

 Then, in the dim light of that dirty shack, Jock ( I think it was Jock)
rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and showed us a tattoo of a rose.  It was a
beautiful rose, exquisitely done with precise and loving detail.  Jock then
started to meditate, sinking quickly into the state of mind of one about to
cast a spell, although there were no hand movements or words.  Then, the rose
tattoo started to move!  It shifted colors and pattern ever so subtly, and
then, in an instant, Jock was holding in his hand a rose!  The rose was real,
we all felt it, held it in our hand.  I tried to see through it as if it were
an illusion, but the red flower remained resolutely solid, it even smelled
like a rose.  And the place on Jock's arm where the rose tattoo had been, was
blank and unblemished skin!

 Well, we all of a sudden became about as excited as bear cubs in a honey
pot, asking the brothers all sorts of questions..how is that done, can you
make a tattoo like that of anything?  If you make a creature like that come
to life, will it be under your command, and all sorts of other questions did
we ask, all at about the same time.  When the brothers Sleeze quoted a price
of 600 gold for a rose mattoo ( for these living tattoos are called mattoos
we were told) and going up from there, we got real quiet real quick. 

 We told the brothers that we would have to give this some thought.  They
said that thinking was an admirable thing to do, and bid us not tell anyone
of their mattoos, for they did not want their shack swarmed with rich nobles,
or slavers.  We told them we'd keep quiet, and they said that quiet thinking
was the best kind.

 I think that one of the things I shall have to do here, is research just
what kind of beings the brothers Sleeze are.  I feel sure they are related to
the Gnomes.  The one thing that make me sure of this, is that when we asked
by what magic system they were able to create these mattoos, they replied
 "No magic."  Which of course, could also be "Gnome magic."

 I have never encountered the Gnome Folk myself before, but have heard tales
of their humor, and delight in practical jokes involving words.  There is a
tale, related to me my an uncle of mine, about Gnomes he encountered long ago
when he was a diplomatic envoy to the city of Tok, deep in the desert.  He
told me of encountering a band of the small, large nosed Gnomes traveling
through the desert, and stopping every hundred miles or so to erect a massive
stone pillar.  On these pillars, written in Gnomish of course, was an
advertisement for a water seller's establishment..which was several thousand
miles away in the Grimwall mountains.  When my Uncle and his party asked why
the Gnomes were erecting advertising for a place that no one who saw the add
would possibly be able to visit, the Gnomes responded that they had heard
that there were nomads in the desert, but when they got here, hoping to see
some, all they found was a bunch of humans on camels.  So, they were busily
populating the desert with....desert Gnome Ads.  My Uncle and his party left
the company of the Gnomes as quickly as possible.

 So, based on the Sleeze brothers "No Magic" which could be" Gnome magic,"
response, I feel sure they are Gnomes, but they do not look like the Gnomes
of the mountains, which the Mountain Folk trade with on a regular basis.  But
enough of this.

 After our encounter with the Sleeze brothers, we set out for the Weapon and
Armour shops that we had been directed to.  Our first stop was the
bower/fletcher.  The name of the lady that runs this place is Idae Trueshaft,
and the lady from whom we got directions to this place, must indeed be used
to affording items of quality, for Idae Trueshaft makes the best bows I have
ever seen.  We spent quite a while in her establishment, and ended up
spending a King's ransom there as well.  Brianna spent near to 200 Gold
Shillings for the most beautiful Elven bow I have ever seen  ( Indeed, it is
the only Elven bow I have ever seen).  The bow is made from the horns of
several rare and magical creatures, and bound about with sinews of an ogre
interlaced with gold wire.. all done in intricate cross weaving patterns of
wondrous complexity.  This bow shoots farther, more powerfully, and more
accurately than any ordinary bow.   Both Bob and Vasquez ended up putting
sizable down payments on bows custom made for them by Idae.. although not as
fine as the Elven bow, these custom bows will still be far superior to most
ordinary bows.  Idae also makes her own arrows, and she had just completed a
batch of "Trueshaft specials", which are beautiful, with heads razorsharp and
silvered, and shafts of darkest mahogany and fletched with the feathers of
large tropical birds.  Even though the price for a single shaft of this kind
is just over 20 silver pieces, we all ended up buying several dozen.

 After having nearly paupered ourselves there, we went on to the weapons
shop, and there we were a bit more restrained.  Bob purchased a silvered
scimitar, while Brianna purchased an unusual weapon she has no idea how to
use.  It is a steel shaft the size and length of a quarterstaff, but with a
pair of spiked balls dangling from chains attached to either end, it is
indeed an unpleasant looking weapon, and after a few experimental swings,
Brianna knew that her skill in quarterstaff would not be sufficient to wield
the thing, but rather, she would have to teach herself to use it.

 After that, it was on to the armour smiths.  When we got there, and found
that he only did metal armour, the party was about to turn and leave.  But
the workmanship of this fellow!  Given that he has only human produced steel
to work with and not the superior Mountain Steel, his armour is exceptional.
 He and I fell to talking, as the rest of the party waited impatiently in the
doorway.  I must confess, that at this shop, it was I who paupered myself.  I
took the greater part of my monies, and put it down as a down payment on a
suit of armour.  Ah!  but what a suit of armour!  It will, in the end, cost
me more than 500 Gold shillings, but it will be a suit of partial plate, with
vast quantities of silver mixed into the steel, so that I may still cast
magic ( although with some difficulty) while wearing it, and it will be
reinforced.  Bron Trovo ( the armour smith who will be making this wonder)
showed me a most clever system he has for making many of the plates from
several layers of brass, which is a softer metal and will distribute the
force of the blow, over the layers of silvered steel, and he will use a most
beautiful eight-link star pattern for the chainmail, each ring of which will
be double riveted, so that in the end, even though it is partial plate, it
should protect me as well as a suit of full steel plate!   It shall be armour
the like of which is fit for a Prince or War Leader!  Of course, it shall
take several months to manufacture, and now, I can no longer afford the
tuition my collage demands.  Perhaps drinking Elvish wine before going
shopping for armour and weapons is not the best idea in the world.  Ah well,
what's done is done.

 Our last stop on this spree was the leather workers, where Merlaine ordered
a suit of leather, and asked that plates of brass ( for she had been
listening to Bron Trovo and I) be worked in as protection on the most vital
areas, as well as the shoulders and the leggings.  The leather worker agreed
that he could do this, and that it would probably result in increased
protection.  Brianna, still coddling her Elvish bow, and empty purse, asked
for a suit of leather armour that had a padded silk lining, for she does not
like the way her current armour ( which has seen much abuse I must admit)
chaffs.  The leather worker added only a small bit to the price for a suit of
leather, and so Brianna purchased this silk padded armour.  Then, full of
excitement, but empty of purse and belly, we went back to the Four Winds Inn,
for it was getting pressingly late.
 
 Day the next.  A day, in which I have nothing that needs doing, oh wonder of
wonders!  In the morning, after making sure Shali was as comfortable as
someone in her condition can be, we broke our fast on the bread and honeyed
cheese the Four Winds provides.  Brianna announced her intention to go to the
merchants Guildhall and see about getting a good price for our gryphon eggs.
 I wish her luck, for after yesterday, we could all use a bit of cash.  Bob
announced his intention to go seeking an instructor in some esoteric forms of
hand to hand combat.  The other members of our troupe had similar diversions
planned, and so I decided to go hawking.

 I retrieved my eagle from the mews, he was more than just a trifle glad to
see me let me tell you!  I then rented a pony from a near-by stable,
retrieved my axe, armour and bow from the guild..just in case anything
untoward should happen while I was out.  I had to make sure the pony was a
docile and obedient one, for I can barely get the obnoxious beasts to move
forward or stop more or less when I wish.  If I had need to make a dash back
to the city, I would be better off dismounting and running on my own feet.

 The day was crisp and clear as I guided my pony over the fields, lying
fallow now under several feet of snow.  I spent the whole of the day,
watching my eagle ramp up, and then soar far overhead...waiting patiently.
 Eventually, a hare would venture out onto the field, and then the bird would
dive, and in a flurry of snow and fur and feathers, the hair would be no
more.  I also shot a few ruffed grouse, just to keep up practice with my bow.
 

 I took the time when my eagle was waiting, floating on the sky as a piece of
wood floats upon the water, to meditate, and think about things.  A good
warriors best weapon is not sword or axe, bow or lance... but his head.  If
he cannot use his head, all the other weapons will do a warrior no good at
all.  

 As I watched my eagle, I perceived how, when he is floating upon the breeze,
watching and waiting, he is nothing but potential.  It takes a hare, creeping
from the woods, to unleash that potential.  When the rabbit creeps from the
woods, a chain of events is started which has but one outcome, the death of
the rabbit.  Without the hare, the eagle is nothing.  It is also thus with a
spell.  When a spell is prepared, there is nothing but the gathered energy,
present and formless, it is nothing but potential.  It takes the shaping and
casting of the spell to give that potential form and direction.  Without the
casting, a spell is nothing but unrealized potential.

 This can also be said of a person.  A person is like the eagle, potential.
 It takes another event for that person's potential to be realized, the
casting for their preparation.  I wonder, if a person can ever know, even to
the smallest extent, what events their actions will set in motion?  It also
dawns on me that if the above be true, then every action in life should be
approached with the same care and respect that one gives to the casting of a
spell, for by living, on is indeed casting a spell.. one of infinite
complexity and wonderous beauty, unless of course it is not approached with
care, and so backfires.  

 If the hare knew what it sets in motion by creeping from the woods on this
day, would it then, still creep from the woods?  I doubt it.  In just such a
way, if a person realizes the true nature of what it is they do, I do not
doubt that many of them would choose to creep back into the woods of
inaction, for to know and realize fully everything, is to stare into the face
of the divine.  I wonder what the hare sees as it dies.  Does it see just the
talons of a raptor, or does it see, and know, something more at the moment of
its death?
 
 The sun is getting low, and I begin my journey back to the safety of the
city walls, just as the rabbit crept from the forest moments ago, thinking
that it would be creeping back again shortly.  I wonder, when next I or my
companions venture forth forth from the safety of the city's walls, what
potential will be be giving form to?  Will there be an eagle waiting for us?
 Or are we the eagle, now soaring and waiting, gaining in strength as a bird
of prey gains in altitude, so that our attack on our foes may be all the more
powerful?  This question I decide, is useless philosophic speculation.
 Whether we are the eagle or the hare, form or potential we are playing our
part in the world.  But it was indeed  a true luxury to spend an entire day
in useless philosophic speculation.

 The day's hunting was good, with four hare and a half score grouse on my
belt I entered the city, for the winter days are short and dusk was upon us,
when they close the gates, and will not, for love of Goddess or money, open
them until the coming of the dawn.

 I gave my days huntings to a family of poor folk who lived near the wall of
the city.  I was headed to an Inn where one nights stay cost more than their
wages for a month, if indeed they earned any wages at all.  I am sure they
needed the meat more than I, who, upon thinking of the pork in blue goat
cheese and mushroom sauce the cook at the Four Winds was preparing, hurried
my little pony on faster.

 While eating the wonderful meal I have just mentioned above, we compared
notes of the day.  Bob had spent the entire day wandering from temple to
temple, asking if any knew of a place where he could get training in the odd
form of hand to hand combat he has heard of, called martial arts.  As far as
I can tell, the closest he came was at the temple of Tyr, where they offered
to teach him military science, and could not fathom the difference between a
martial art, and a military science, for they perceived that the proper use
of a shield wall, or when to use a heavy horse formation or a light cavalry
one is as much an art as a science, and that mere tavern brawling is neither.
 Eventually they shrugged their shoulders, and directed Bob to a health spa,
where the art of Boxing is taught.  That is not what Bob is looking for
either, and so the spa director told Bob to seek the council of an astrologer
or a sage, as they were the people one usually consulted when one wished to
find something.

 For her part, Merlaine spent the entire day sitting at a place called The
Mallorn, which is an Elvish Inn.  She was positively glowing with delight as
she recounted how she spent the whole day, speaking in her native tongue, to
another Elf no less!  This other Elf's name was Taernishil, or something like
that... anyway, it was an Elvish name, of the kind that rolls of your tongue
like wet cottage cheese when you try to speak it.  Merlaine regaled us with
tales of eating Elvish dishes prepared in the traditional Elvish fashion and
listening to Elvish music and comparing what she referred to as "stupid human
tricks," with Taernishil.  I am happy for her, as I know she misses her
home-land, and will still be missing her home land after my great great
grandsons are dead in their grave of old age.

 Brianna gave us her report on her trip to the Hall of the Merchant's Guild.
 She talked briefly with someone named Jorgdan Al-Moodh..or something that
sounds like that anyway.  This Moodh fellow is going to talk to some people
he knows who may, or may not be interested in the eggs.  It was while
listening to Brianna, that I noticed something which caused me no small
concern.  

 Now, by this time, the Inn had doused all its chandeliers, and the light was
provided by two candles at each table.  The main course was over, and the
diners were partaking of desserts and sweetpies, and glasses of sweet wine
after dinner.   Two musicians, a harpist and a flutist of no small skill were
providing quiet music.  What I noticed, was a Lady.  Now, I am not one to go
noticing human women, but this lady was obviously well off, as she was
wearing brocade velvet skirts, and a vest heavily embroidered with threads of
real gold ( I could tell by the way the candle light reflected off them), her
jewelry as well looked to be of real emeralds and diamonds.  She was sitting
with a gentleman, who had no small fortune himself, to judge by the clothing
he wore, and the many rings upon his fingers. 

 This lady and her companion were some of the folk that were not staying at
the Four Winds, but had come here only to dine; such is the renown of their
food.  When a servant, carrying a candle to another table, passed behind this
couple, I perceived that the lady cast no shadow, none whatsoever!  I waited
and watched some more, until a second servant with a candle passed near the
couple.  I watched the gentleman's shadow move over the table as the servant
passed them, as well as she shadows of everyone at the tables nearby.  But
the tablecloth in front of the lady remained light, and unblemished by even
the slightest darkening of a shadow.

 I discreetly nudged Vasquez who was next to me, and asked her to observe the
couple, and tell me if she saw anything amiss.  After but a few seconds,
Vasquez informed me that as far as she could tell, the well dressed lady was
not casting a shadow!  Vasquez and I then, in the smallest of whispers,
informed the rest of the party of what we had observed.

 At  this moment, the lady in question turned around, stared straight at our
party,graced us with a slight and enigmatic smile, and winked at us!  She
then went back to her repast.  The effect of this action was immediate.
 Merlaine said that she had best go check on poor Shali, still sick in bed.
 Brianna hurriedly rose with her, and told Merlaine that she would accompany
her to Shali's bedside.  The rest of us, not wanting to discuss this matter,
in even the slightest of whispers, also made excuses and left the table.
 Once in the lobby we broke into a hurried discussion of what was to be done.
 We have heard rumors concerning women who cast no shadow, and the first
thing that came to all of our minds was... vampire.  If indeed this lady was
one of the Nosferatu, then she was easily capable of killing us all without
much effort on her part.  While Vasquez, Bob and I hurriedly discussed what
was to be done, Merlaine and Brianna were already upstairs and locking
themselves in Shali's room.  We opened the door and peered back into the
dining room, only to see the lady in question and her gentleman friend,
donning their warm cloaks and preparing to leave!

 Vasquez was all for locking herself in our room, as Bri and Merlaine had
done, and hope that we had not attracted the notice of this being.  My mind
was with her, for I have heard stories of the Nosferatu, of them shattering
the bones of a hundred men with but a thought, and then walking over the
field of battle, consuming the blood of the men as they lay helpless,
writhing in agony, watching their companions being drained of blood, one by
one... unable to escape, their legs and backs shattered.  Against such a
creature, our party has no hope.

 But Bob said that no matter the risks, he could not stand by and do nothing
while a fellow human fall victim to this foul beast, and that he was going to
go and try to rescue that gentleman, even if he had to do so alone.  Now,
that is valor!  My heart was with Bob, for if the fight be in vain, but for a
good cause, it is that much more noble! And yet my mind was with Vasquez.
 For If we did venture forth as we were ( clothed in fine linen, and armed
only with 2 daggers between us) we would most assuredly be killed, which
would leave Brianna and Merlaine, with a sick Shali to face the vampire's
wrath.  A party is strongest when it is united, not divided.  This is one
hard and fast rule which we have learned over and over again in the course of
our wanderings.  Bob and Vasquez were both looking at me to be the
tie-breaker in this war of votes.

 Not knowing what to do, I decided to leave this one in the hands of the Gods
( or Goddesses, since we are in Nvym-dar, which is Ishtar's city).  I asked
to borrow a silver coin from Vasquez.  I tossed it into the air and called,
"heads, we face forward into the danger, tails, we show it our backside and
hope to meet it again when we are stronger.)  The coin fell, and the face of
a smiling, long dead prince looked up at us from the floor, sealing our fate.

 At this moment, Brianna came running down the stairs, a handful of gold
coins clutched tightly in her fist, and disappeared into the kitchen.  A
minute later, she reappeared, with several strings of garlic hung about her
neck, and dashed back up the stairs.  By the resolute sound of the slamming
door to her rooms, it was obvious we would not persuade her to accompany us
on our errand.

 The decision thus made, I wasted no time in running upstairs to my room and
retrieving my hand-axes and my pathetically meager bag of runesticks.  And
so, scarcely armed, and not in any way armored, the three of us set forth
into the chill night.  With a snow having fallen but last night, Bob had no
trouble following the delicate tracks of our quarry and her companion.  

 The trail led out of the upper class district, where the street lamps burn,
and into a merchant district.  When we had traveled but two blocks beyond
where the street-lamps stop, we encountered a most unusual scene.  There,
lying upon the snow, was a calling card, of the kind used by merchants and
nobility to introduce themselves.  Standing over the card, were no less than
a score of large, mangy looking sewer rats.  The rats stood in a perfect row,
a few feet from the card.  We stared at the vermin for several seconds, and
they stared back at us.  Oh, how I wished Shali was with us then!

 After a short time, Bob approached the rats and, reaching as far as he could
with his arm, retrieved the card with the blade of his dagger.  The rats made
no move, but their baleful gaze never left us.  Upon the calling card,
written in the neatest and most precise handwriting I have ever seen, was the
following:

 "Please, do not be so boorish as to spoil a perfectly pleasant evening.  For
if you insist on spoiling my evening, I shall insist upon spoiling yours by
killing you, and your children, and your children's children."
       The card was unsigned.

 In  its way, I found this note comforting.  This Lady seemed to know when we
were talking about her, and she definatley knew we were following her, but
she did not yet know enough about us to know that none of us have children.
 Now, threats do not ever frighten me, they are mere posturing.  Threats do
however, make me angry, and judging from Bob and Vasqueze's faces, the effect
was the same on them.  So, Vasquez went around the building on our left,
hoping to find a way to circumvent the vermin that confronted us, we had a
suspicion that we would need all our strength later, and would rather not
waste it fighting a delaying action with rats.  

 Vasquez found that the way around the building was clear, and waved at us
from a point  at the next cross street, some fifty feet or so behind the
rats.  We  backed up a few paces, and went to the left as Vasquez had,
thinking to follow in her tracks.

 According to Vasquez, the minute we were out of sight, the line of rats
turned, as tight and precise as a well drilled pike square, and charged down
the street at her.  Meanwhile, the ally which Vasquez had found to be clear,
was not.  No sooner had Bob and I set foot in it, than we were set upon by
more rats, which had been lurking upon the rooftops and upper balconies of
the building.  These ugly gray brutes began dropping on us from above,
landing with disquieting plops in the snow, and then leaping ferociously at
us, clawing and biting.  The sharp teeth of these rats had little problem in
penetrating the clothing we wore, and as more and more of the vermin fell
upon us from above, we realized this was not merely a delaying action, we we
fighting for our lives.  In the distance, we could hear Vasquez cursing and
yelling, so we knew she was similarly beset.

 The fight did not last all that long, less than a few minutes I am sure.  I
began grabbing the rats one by one with my hands, and throwing them into the
sides of the nearest building, or stepping upon them as they lay stunned in
the snow, or just crushing the life out of them as I held them.  My hands
suffered greatly from the teeth of these monsters, and soon they were covered
in blood, most of which was my own.

   Bob's dagger was out, and his slashings made a bloody mess of any rat the
blade came in contact with; he did wound himself once, but it was a minor
cut, and compared to the carnage the rodents were inflicting upon him, I am
amazed he even noticed it.

 Soon, all the rats who had beset us were dead-- crushed, smashed or gutted.
 Bob was sore wounded, with many deep gashes and significant loss of blood.
 I was better off, but not by much.  Exhausted and bleeding, we went to help
Vasquez, whom we could still hear yelling.  When we reached her, we knew that
things were bad indeed.  Dead rats lay all around her, smashed in the snow.
 She had taken to throwing herself against the buildings, or onto the ground
to try to shake the rodents from her.  She had been attacked by twice as many
of the vermin as had we, and she was in very dire straights indeed.  Her face
could hardly be seen for all the rats that covered it, and the amount of
blood on the snowy street was truly astounding.  Bob and I charged in as fast
as we could.  Bob tried to leap upon two of the rodents, intending to smash
them beneath his feet.  Instead, he hit a patch of ice that lay beneath the
snow, and fell back onto the ground, the crack of his skull hitting the
cobblestones was near as loud as a whip, and he was instantly set upon by the
vermin he had intended to crush.  I threw my hand axes at several of the rats
who were on the ground, preparing to leap at Vasquez.  The axes struck home,
and then I used my hands again, yanking the attackers from Vasquez, while she
did the same.  Bob recovered quickly from his fall, and the shrieking of
impaled rats could be heard from his direction soon after.

 A few seconds later, the fight was over.  All the rats were dead.  Lights
were coming on in some of the nearby buildings, and we could hear cursings
and yellings of indignant sleepers awakened from their slumber by the sounds
of our fracas.  Between Bob and I we helped Vasquez home, for she had lost so
much blood that she kept slipping in and out of consciousness.  There was no
question of continuing our hunt for the mysterious lady.  If the rich dandy
with her met a bad end, it was not for lack of our trying, we were nearly
dead ourselves.

 When we arrived back at the Four Winds, the front door was locked, and we
were politely asked to use the servants entrance, which we did.

 The instant we were in our rooms, our nostrils were assaulted by the
overpowering odor of garlic.  It turned out that Brianna had purchased every
last clove the cook had not used in preparing dinner, and scattered them
liberally about the room.  Such was our state when we entered, that we did
not notice them, and our feet ground the cloves into the carpet, where the
crushed herb mixed with the stains of our blood.

 Merlaine assured us that the rug was not a major concern, and that it had
been all she could do to keep Brianna from hacking apart this very desk upon
which I now write and sharpening its legs into stakes.  Bri had also awakened
a messenger, paid the young lady handsomely, in Gold no less, to run a
message to the High Church, telling them of what we had seen.  Brianna had
also thought to move the bathtub in front of the rooms door and fill it with
water, for she had heard that vampires can not cross water.  Thankfully,
Merlaine had talked her out of this idea as well.

 As we told the story of our encounter, Merlaine was ripping apart the cloth
she carries with her for just such occasions, and making bandages, she also
ordered hot water from the staff, and then proceeded to clean and bind our
wounds.  She spent quite a while fixing us up, as she said she wanted to take
extra time to clear the wounds of any chance of infection or disease, as rats
are notoriously filthy creatures.

 After an hour or more, our wounds were dressed and much healed, and we had
been given teas which helped speed the healing and restore our blood.  These
teas of Merlaine's also helped us to sleep, which we did soon thereafter. 

 Morning the next.  Merlaine checked our wounds, did some more healing upon
them, and pronounced us fit to travel.  Concerned that we had not had word
from the church, and fearful that the messenger may have encountered more of
the vermin, we inquired at the front desk as to the state of our message.
 The manager assured us that the messenger had returned safe and sound, and
asked what was going on, as he had been getting complaints from some of the
patrons on our floor of the strong odor of garlic, and late night comings and
goings.

 When we told the manager of our night's exploits, he became angry, and told
us that vampires most assuredly do Not come to the Four Winds Inn!  As a
matter of fact, he stated that it had been many years since there had even
been a confirmed vampire sighting within the entire northern kingdom, let
alone the city of Nvym-Dar!  It was his feeling that we had been the victim
of some den of thieves, who had tried to lure us into the night, and
maneuvered us into a nest of rats, hoping that the rats would finish us off,
and they would be able to pick up the valuables after the rats had finished
with our bodies.  The manager also asked that we vacate the room we currently
occupied, and move farther down the hall, so that they could clean the carpet
of the blood stains and air out the room.  This we did.

 Once that had been done, we went to the High Church, to see what, if
anything, they had done about Brianna's message.  It took us some while, but
we were finally able to find the priest that had been on duty the night
before, and who had received our message.

 This priest told us that he had not done anything about our message.  Upon
receiving Brianna's message, which stated that we had seen a woman without a
shadow, and suspected her of being a vampire, he had assumed that it we were
the victims of a practical joke.  This priest told us that young
practitioners of the Illusion magics, often find it humorous to see if the
can create the illusion of something not being there, rather than something
being there.  It was his opinion that some novice illusionist had created the
illusion of the woman's shadow being absent, and that while magic was indeed
illegal to practice within the city, that did not stop some folks.
This priest also cautioned us against following people out into the night for
no good reason, as those same people might not perceive our intentions as
honorable.  

 At this point, Brianna became almost hysterical.  She feels sure that the
vampire intends to return this night and wreak her vengeance on us.  She
nearly threw herself at the priest's feet, asking if he knew of a safe place
she could stay, and did her perhaps have any holy water that she could have,
after making a sizable donation to the church of course.

 This nice priest informed us that holy water was for the faithful of Ishtar
only, and that since we had chosen to place our trust in magic, which the
church considers an unclean thing, that we should trust to our magic, but not
in the city.  "Of course," the Priest continued, "if Brianna's faith in her
magic was failing, she could always repent and embrace Ishtar.  Then she
could cast magic that was given by Ishtar, therefore Holy and clean, and
legal.  She would also be able to live in a Church, which are always built
upon consecrated ground."

 I dare say Bri seemed to consider this for a second, but then decided
against this course, where upon she drew forth every gold coin she had left
in her pocket and proffered them to the priest, begging, on the point of
breaking into tears, for him to help her.  For she felt sure that if he did
not, her immortal soul would be devoured and lost to the abyss this very
evening.

 The priest must have been moved by this display, for he took Brianna's
offering ( which amounted to 70 gold shillings we later figured) and withdrew
into the church.  After many minutes, he came back, carrying with him a most
ornate wooden box, which he gave to Brianna.  He told Brianna that he was
giving her his own "Necklace of Saints"  which some priests are granted the
divine power to fashion.  A Necklace of Saints is said to protect one from
the undead.  I must admit, it is a very pretty thing, with thin rods of blue
quartz crystals interlaced with beads of Chalcedony, each one being carved
into the face of one of Ishtar's many saints.  The whole thing is bound
together with wire of silver.  Brianna thanked the priest profusely, and
immediately donned the necklace, saying she would never take it off.

 We then returned to the Inn, and found a messenger awaiting our arrival, for
he had been instructed to deliver his message into our hands only, and carry
our response to his master.  Upon opening the scroll he bore, we found that
we have been invited to the New Year's festivities at the mansion of the
Geron-Tyes family.  Those festivities were to happen this very evening.

 We accepted the invitation, and arranged for the carriage to pick us up
around 7 in the evening.  I t will be good to see Rastvan again.  I have no
doubt that it was his machinations that got us invited to this grand fete, as
a huge merchant house such as Geron-Tyes normally pays adventurers such as we
as little notice as possible.  But, spending several weeks poling a crude
raft down wild rivers can cause people who would not normally become friends,
to do so.

 And so, I must now lay aside quill and ink, and get ready for this ball.  I
notice my companions running about, getting their hair done up in pearls and
other such things.  For my part, I have clean cloths of high quality, and
those I shall wear.  But I'll be damned if I am caught weaponless, even at a
party.  However, my hand axes are of very utilitarian design.  So now I must
run out and see if I can, within an hour, purchase a suitable pair of
silvered handaxes.

 I trust the reader will not mind too much my stopping this missive now, for
you are probably as weary of reading it as I am of writing it.

    By my hand this last day of Dacambre.
    in the year of our lady 539.

       Drashak Khea Milari