The entity in Keystone's head responded swiftly, but with clear difficulty forming words:

"Kaylee...prison...escape..you" it managed to convey before the link was abruptly cut and the presence rapidly faded. The first line of guards was breached as the massive knight charged head on for the resting monk. The inscription on the sword suddenly restored to its bright glow, the undead easily cleaved through two guards trying to block his way, but staggered under the combined blows of all the archers.

"Give her back, human!" Glith yelled as he took a step towards the monk, only to be showered in arrows again and again. With the weightlessness of the blade restored, he had little trouble deflecting most of the arrows. The presence in Keystone's mind was barely present the closer the undead knight came to him.

The Captain, angry at nothing in particular, shoved Keystone towards the last, half empty carriage:
"If you'd rather stay and die, then be of some use! I am not losing any more men and women protecting you, and I won't have your death on my conscience!" he yelled, stepping between the undead and the human. When the large two handed sword crashed onto the shield the veteran fighter was holding, it cut clean through, nearly severing an arm. Despite this, the man returned the favour by battering the undead assailant with careful and quick blows on its weapon, forcing it to defend instead of attacking.

Behind the large undead knight, the horde cut down the last remaining frontline, shuffling forward towards the archers and the duelists. Many of the ranged fighters drew maces, clubs and shields, charging at the horde with seeming abandon, trusting that their leader would handle the one leading the small army.

"DAMNIT..." growled Keystone, finally understanding the particulars of his situation. Against his nature, the best way to help prevent the loss of life and get any answers at all was to run. Fast and far, until lasting respite could be found. His presence hurt those who could defend themselves. With regret, he heeded the Captain's advice.

Aboard the carriage, he looked to his companion so far in this two-day tragedy, "You don't like to run; I don't like to either. Today we run. If I hang about, Dark & Ugly'll get even stronger. Their best chance to live involves me sodding off until I find out what's in my head and how I can help it."

He paused for a moment, and continued, "I understand, Sir Knight, if'n you and I part ways now. But I can't fight it as I am, and I need answers. Too many people've snuffed it already."

As soon as distance was put between himself and the fighting, Keystone tried to reestablish the mental rapport with his new friend.

Keystone could see the undead army finally overwhelming the strong defenses as the guards were overwhelmed. The zombies and undead fell over the men and women bravely holding them back, clawing, biting and raking through flesh. The screams that erupted from the battle were horrifying, a lost cry for help that nobody could answer.

The captain watched the massacre as they rode away, his face a dark shroud of grief and anger. Bleeding from several nicks and holding a finely crafted sword, the man beamed hopelessness. Hopelessness at being unable to save his soldiers, hopelessness at being unable to die with them. A slight flicker, a reflection at the battle sight caught his attention. One of the guards making a last stand? Then, with a sudden grunt, the weary man let go of his sword, dropping it onto the road. His bloody hands went up to his chest, his face twisted in a grimace of pain and horror. Embedded deeply in his chest was one of the swords Two Stars' guards carried, still humming from the force of the throw. With a quiet sigh, the Captain fell backwards into the carriage floor, quite dead. Beneath the mask of pain, it was almost as if the man died happy, happy that he didn't leave his subordinates.

The refugees in the carriage gasped and yelled, some trying to help the poor Captain, some trying to hide from more projectiles, even though none came. The drivers lashed the horses some more and the caravan accelerated, desperate to get away from the doomed town as quickly as they could.

Far behind them, at the town gates, Glith watched the caravan go. He couldn't see if his throw actually hit someone, but judging by the reaction, it at least scared the lot. The zombies behind him were feasting on the dead guards, but the victory tasted bitter to the old knight. He had come to rescue Kaylee, and yet she was gone now, stolen by some wretched human. The knight gave a loud growl that reverberated throughout the town, vowing to find the thief and get his beloved back. The large two handed sword was now heavy and unwieldy, its inscription dark. Still, the knight strapped it to his back and started after the quickly disappearing caravan. The zombie horde, having finished its feasting, followed the armoured figure at a distance, hungry for more flesh.

The entity in Keystone's head kept quiet until the undead was out of sight, but the monk could clearly feel the overwhelming relief that stemmed from it once the knight was no longer on the horizon. No voice went through the monk's head, but many images floated by, arranged in a scattered order. A party of adventurers speaking with the undead knight, it holding a fat purse as a booming voice echoed. A dark and broken castle, covered in magical ice, the party fighting unspeakable evil. The name 'Glith', followed by images of the large armoured undead and even stronger emotions of fear went by. A young couple, a farmer's daughter and a promising tall priest, laughing and cheering in a field full of wheat. The stream of images ended with a strong flash of pain, as Keystone found himself looking through the eyes of the woman, staring down as a bloody wound in her chest, gasping for air. The young priest held her, tears streaming from his face as he cursed at something just out of the way. Then, darkness..nothing. The presence in Keystone's head seemed to vanish, and did not manifest itself again that journey. It didn't leave without imparting a profound sense of gratitude upon the monk.

The caravan made great progress, and soon the refugees were going through the gates of Telflamm, a bustling trade city on the Golden way and the busy shores of the Sea of Fallen Stars. Word of the new threat that obliterated Two Stars spread quickly, making the city even busier than usual as preparations were made to defend the large settlement. The refugees were settled just inside the city slums, in a cheap and busy inn that provided food and drinks to those in need, until their business could be sorted out properly by the authorities. Aside from regular checkups, the passengers of the caravan were allowed to roam the city and partake in its many striking features, be it the famous Xiang Temple for monks or the Shemszarr Square for anyone willing to spend or receive coin.

A week later, word came that some unknown force was consuming and leaving empty towns in its wake, approaching Telflamm at a rate many deemed impossibly fast.

[For further fleshing out of any of the areas/characters, just have your character go there or inquire about it. I will follow any course the characters take]

Keystone locked eyes with his traveling companion, sighed, and said nothing. He quietly viewed all that Kaylee had to show him, and continued saying nothing. Unwilling to hold gaze with anyone else in the carriage, the large man recovered his pack, settled in, and tried to sleep in the relative safety of numbers and motion. Before nodding off, he spoke in the forefront of his mind, hoping his spiritual tagalong could understand, "I'll try to help you, Kaylee. But I have to know more. Rest now, talk later, I suppose..."

Upon reaching Telflamm, Keystone's first action was to look for Erepar, to see if he was part of the caravan survivors. If so, there was a dialogue that had to be opened. While he scanned the crowd, he made mental note of where he was and what he could do in the city. He had no illusions of being wholly safe; his adversary came back from the dead to fulfill his desires, a cross-country trip was a mere annoyance. But maybe in this time he could figure out a few things.

First on the list: There had to be someone in town more knowledgeable than himself about history and/or undead Knights. The temple of Tyr seemed a good place to make an appointment (they always seemed like the "make an appointment" types) to speak with a cleric or historian. If anyone could put names to the places in his visions, they likely could or could refer him to someone more learned about such things.

(Where the hell was Erepar?)

Second up: Money. After having been stiffed by one employer (his unfortunate circumstances notwithstanding), he was still near broke, on the run, and in a not-too-familiar setting. Two scrolls in his possession were taking up space. Perhaps some subtle inquiries as to where they could be unloaded for a more fluid asset would be useful. The food in his pack wouldn't hold out forever, free board at the Inn or not.

(I do hope the poor bugger's not dead, he could answer a LOT of questions...)

Third priority: The Xiang Temple. Maybe they have answers, maybe they don't. But their reputation as masterful unarmed fighters was enough to warrant his attention, dire emergency looming or not. His own skills very likely came, watered down and adapted to his culture over time, from these people. He felt it necessary to try to pay the place a visit, and his respect. Hell, he may even learn a thing or two, provided he could get past a possible language barrier.

(He probably had that naked guy run him out of there on his shoulders. ...wizards...)

Finally: Keep an eye out for Dwarves, especially ones that are a bit long in the beard. His new Bracers still needed to be fully translated, and Keystone's grasp on the language just didn't cut it. If he came across anything promising while attending to other business, great.

(Well, don't see him. Maybe he's already inside the Inn.)

Looking to no one in particular, he said in a quiet baritone, "Up for talking, little Kay? Seems we have a breather." He slung on his pack, and for the meantime joined the rest of the refugees. In his mind, he formed the words, "I hope you don't go rooting around too deep in there, little miss. I've some dark and nasty spots, might make you rethink your accommodations."

Keystone's inquiring in the many places of Teflamm had varying success.

The clerics of the Hall of the Avenging Hammer welcomed the inquisitive monk with open arms, thinking they had found a new devotee to the Sword of Justice. The few healers that remained in the city could do little to answer his queries about undead monsters, but they did refer to the Red Wizard Enclave for information, explaining that the many Thayan necromancers studied the subject extensively. The referral came with its fair share of warnings about the evil that the wizards were and their backstabbing nature. They did want to know everything the monk knew about this new threat now approaching the city from the east.

The two scrolls proved to be valuable indeed, with various merchants offering exorbitant prices for the powerful magic, and more than a few inquiring as to how much they would have to pay for the bracers and any other magical items the monk might have. A wise man would be suspicious of the seemingly high prices the merchants offered, however. Several mentions of the Red Wizard Enclave caught the monk's ears as places that would value magic and magical items, accompanied by more whispers of the dangers inside the large compound.

Keystone was questioned by the guards at the Xiang Temple, but once again welcomed with open arms once his trade was known. Within minutes he was offered a meeting with Grandmaster Shein-Fang of Teflamm, two days later. Until then, the monk was welcome to attend the daily exercise sessions and get up to speed with new techniques being developed in the eastern regions of Faerun. The temple's monks spent their days training and keeping order in the district the temple was located in, as well as keeping a wary eye on any corruption in the city, working closely with the clerics of Tyr. Much like the clerics, the guards bade Keystone to tell the Grandmaster everything he knew about the impending threat to the city.

Dwarves were a rare sight in Telflamm, its humid climate and open sky being unattractive prospects to most of that race, but Keystone did overhear a few rumours of a dwarven blacksmith in the city's merchant square, mostly praises for the (expensive) quality of handiwork he delivered. Several other dwarves could be found in the city's various taverns, some as henchmen and some as common workers, but none of them had long beards, if any.

Despite the search, Keystone could not find a trace of the old wizard or its companion. None of the townsfolk even recalled there was more than one prominent wizard in town. Reverin was well known, but the name 'Erepar' only brought glassy looks upon people's faces.

The entity in Keystone's head took a while to respond, conveying agreement with the monk's mind-speak. Images of a cage flashed by, a dark, almost childlike figure sitting inside it, not daring to go out even though it could easily squeeze through the ghostlike bars. Despite the cage, the entity seemed quite content with staying inside the imaginary construct. Moments later, more images flashed through Keystone's head, images of a town different from Two Stars or Telflamm, empty and devoid of all life. A brief but keen sense of fear flooded the monk's head.

The towns preparations, despite the short timeframe, were coming along at a rapid pace, all manners of undead wards being placed along the city walls and the city guard being outfitted with maces and slings instead of their regular bows and swords.

The Hall of the Avenging Hammer. Now there was a temple name that Keystone could get behind. A bit stuffy in manner for his tastes, however. To his experience thusfar, they were a good, righteous people who were a bit caught up in structure for the sake of structure. While he may never enter these walls as a Brother of Hammering Vengeance (or whatever the militant arm of this group was called), he felt he could trust these people. So far as he trusted anybody, in any case.

Honesty, in this situation, was best. Maybe withhold some details about Kaylee, but portray her as a victim of this evil Sir Rottingarse, and he her sworn guardian "against undead bastiches what can't take NO for an answer, and well-meaning priests what want her to pass on against her will". He continued as eloquently as his upbringing would allow, given the circumstance: "Here's the thing of it, Mr. Priest, sir - Even if I were able to fight this Glith toe to toe, as it were, my presence, rather her presence makes him stronger. Lots stronger. Tons. I need to solve her mystery and let her peaceably do what she needs, far away from this monster."

"Ain't the first time someone's rented space in my noggin, neither. This one's a fair sight nicer than the last one, too. Kindly type, y'know? Giggles a lot less when I makes sprinkles."

He nodded soberly and with a faraway look, making one wonder if this was an attempt at humor or a serious point of consideration.

He appreciated the referral to the Red Wizards, with some caution. Even in his faraway home, Keystone had heard rumors about these people. While he had misgivings about dealing with any spellthrowers, it seemed that fate kept shoving him back toward them as of late. "I'll be back again tomorrow, in case you have any more questions for me. Thank you for your time on the matter."

The merchants seemed to jump at the scrolls. Well, the big man was glad someone wanted them, and just smart enough to know that if someone jumped with an offer, someone else would negotiate for a better one. Or a slightly more honest one, at least. Again, the Red Wizards came up. Fate pushing him toward reputably evil wizards. Was it worth the extra money? Maybe, maybe not. But as of late he was beginning to listen to the nudges of the universe. Still not sure why.

They would have to wait for a bit, however. The day was not yet very far along, and he had another place on his list before dealing with wizardly types. The monks of the Xiang Temple seemed polite enough, and particularly willing to be helpful. Keystone accepted the offer to speak to Grandmaster Shein-Fang as graciously as he was able, which pretty much meant repeating the motions of bowing and hand gestures he was shown. His own training didn't have much in the way of formalities or tradition, but upon asking he did note similarities between Stone Fist Way and his own, more Occidental techniques.

He spent some time in the Xiang Temple before making a mental note to return for training, as long as he was in town they were willing to receive him as a guest. Perhaps he could demonstrate his own Iron Fist technique, if they did not have an equivalent taught on site.

Prior to leaving, Keystone requested a slip of paper and a bit of soft charcoal. He had a couple of things to prepare before meeting the Red Wizards and "Questing for Dwarf". He thanked the Xiang Monks, trying to bow properly (and doing slightly better than when he walked in) and excused himself for the day.

He had an Enclave to visit. Very carefully.

The story of this imaginary Kaylee greatly disturbed the priests of Tyr, their attempts to free the trapped entity having little success with the likes of Keystone. When the monk mentioned the name 'Glith', however, the eyes of the goodly priest went wide for just a second before he composed himself, but didn't divulge any further information if he had any.

The Thay red Wizards were known for many things, not the least of which was their power, but even that was dwarfed by their hunger for more. The enclave in Telflamm was one of the largest congregations of the faction ins all of the realms, boasting dozens, if not hundreds of powerful mages at any given time. For all their evil, the enclave was also one of the primary places to get the best magical items in the east of the Realms, and the wizards gave better prices than most of the merchants did.

The main entrance to the enclave in Telflamm was large set of double wooden doors, emblazoned with the logo of the Red Wizards. During most business days, these doors were wide open, inviting the guests into a large, almost cathedral-like interior with magical torches and candles barely reaching the ceiling. On the forefront of it all, at a small desk surrounded by hundreds of massive shelves with various potions, spells and other items lining them, sat an unremarkable grey skinned man, so thin he was almost impossible to see in the gloom. Wearing the standard garb of the red wizards, an apprentice cloak, he spent most of his days behind that desk, waiting for customers. No other obvious guards or sentries could be seen in the space, but only a fool would doubt that some manner of defense was present.

Very intimidating locale. Keystone thought it best to adopt his Business Voice and professional mannerisms for the occasion. Respectful, assertive, and well-postured; aware of his surroundings. He entered the enclave with perceptive eyes and a grim set to his wide jaw. Approaching the desk of the unremarkable grey skinned man, he politely cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Afternoon, sir. I'm interested in speaking with someone on the subject of Necromancy." The last word was somewhat enunciated, reflecting the infrequency with which he spoke on the subject. He produced the two scrolls from his pack, and set them down gingerly "I am also keen on making a sale, scrolls. Finances permitting, an appraisal as well. With whom should I direct my inquiry?"

He stood tall, with a polite but neutral expression, hands clasped in front.

The thin man perked up at the sound of another voice, suddenly very animated and full of energy. He studied the fighter before him with unfeigned interest, trying to gauge what he was made of. Apparently satisfied, the clerk threw his arms out wide and greeted the monk:

"Welcome to the Red Wizard Enclave of Telflamm, the greatest place in the eastern realms for all your magical and knowledge needs!", seemingly ignoring the man's query. "You will find we have everything you need provided you have the coin to pay for it," he finished with a far more pleasant tone of voice. Bowing curtly before the monk, as if apologizing for his ignorance, the clerk continued:

"The scrolls you may hand over to me, and I will be happy to appraise them for you. If you sell the scrolls to us, the appraisal is free of charge!" he exclaimed with glee. Meriv was an odd clerk after all, as excited about a minor magic missiles scroll as he was about the most powerful of self written scrolls. "As for your other query, you need only to mention what it is you seek information about, and I will be happy to make an appointment with an authority on the matter. As with most things in life, the time of of such authorities is very valuable, you understand. Making an appointment will cost you in proportion to the quality of information and the time you would like to receive, as is customary." The man paced around the room, very excited about the probabiblity of making some sales and purchases. "I also invite you to check our vast array of items for sale! Surely you will not be disappointed!" he cried out, and with a sudden drop in volume, added " of course, if you try so steal anything, you will find that the authorities will be the least of your problems, my good sir."

The man stopped mid-stride and gasped, as if remembering something:

"Ah, where are my manners!? I am Meriv, the proprietor of this fine establishment."

The man, seemingly bookish at first, now struck Keystone as an interesting financial operator. Reminded him, just a bit, of a used cart salesman from back home. Growing up amongst thieves, the thin man's sudden shift in demeanor caused the larger man to be more on guard, not less at ease. He endeavored to look for the loophole that may screw him.

"Thank you, good sir Meriv! I appreciate your time with this. I have had offers on the scrolls already, I just need to see if you can better them; appraisal not really necessary. I may have one or two items though, need to be identified. If you would sir, before we get to exchanges, what is your charge for that?"

Meriv's right eyebrow jumped impossibly high on his forehead when he heard about other offers on the scrolls:
"I can assure you, whatever our merchant colleagues have offered can be matched by us, provided the items you speak of are in sufficiently good condition and represent some form of value!" he continued with his usual energy, demeanor and tone mismatched as he spoke. He stopped for a minute to think about the identification inquiry, finally responding with a curt bow:
"Identification varies in price, depending on the item you have and how potent it may be. I'm sure you understand that the more powerful such an item may be, the more time and energy need be expended to find out everything about it! For simple items such as most enchanted weapons, our most recent items have cost our customers a mere pittance compared to the value of the item. They were, of course, more than happy to sell such items to us after they heard our wonderful prices! If you show me the items in question, I may give you an offer for that."

Behind the pair, deep in the large 'shop', a large figure, easily three times the size of Keystone, passed by between some shelves, shrouded in darkness even infravision could not pierce.

He grabbed a lit candle from the desk nearby, and solidly thunked it down between the slender mage and himself. Turing about, he dropped trou and aimed his posterior toward the flickering flame, confident in his decision to commit to the action which was to follow.

He summoned a foul wind from deep within himself, unclenching his innards with the muscular control of a practiced aesthetic. The first intestinal herald's horn blew, it's single bass note propelling a horror, birthed of road beef and dried fruit, upon the open flame. Slowly at first, as not to extinguish the precious fire, the staccato tearing sound was joined by a whoosh of flame growing into a vomitous inferno. This was his signal.

Growling, eyes bulging, and summoning an inner reserve of stamina unseen in the Realms outside of bardic drama, Keystone pressed his brown vapourous gale, pouring on the magnitude of the blast until it became indistinguishable from an archmage's assault of desperation, immolating and rendering septic everything in its cone of destruction. The low pitched rectal scream of this Armageddon continued, the sound approximating the droning of an infernal mantra and the ripping of a hundred canvas sails with unerring yet terrible synchronization. Drops of horrible flaming fluid sprayed from the edges of the cone of fetid hell, catching ablaze the very stone of the walls and running down to the floor in thin, oily rivulets of corruption. Sweat beaded and poured down Keystone's face, the tang of liquid salt insinuating itself onto his tongue as his mouth stood agape, bellowing a wordless shout of dominance; a battle-cry of unnamed rage and potency.

The desk was aflame. The scrolls were aflame. The shelves, and magical goods thereon were aflame, sending away sparks of eldritch energy. The mage was aflame, begging for the blessed relief of death.

Keystone abruptly ended the cacophony of misery and catastrophic methane, lest the fire be taken within. Already the odor of singed nether-hair joined the swirl of olfactory belligerence, prompting an end to the ham-flapping fusillade in fear of the unbridled power consuming its creator.

Pulling his pants back up with one hand, Keystone thrust his other fist skyward and proclaimed in a booming, demonic bass, surpassing in volume even the roar of the flames and shrieks of the dying,

"I am Animus, God of All Things BESTIAL!"

***

He snapped back from his daydream, and shook his head slightly. Had it only been a second? That was odd... Despite the sudden flash of depravity, Keystone maintained his outward professionalism. Noting the monstrous figure in the shadows of the shelves, he continued speaking confidently - though took action as if he were speaking to a display of armed guards.

"I have a dagger on my person, I would appreciate being identified." He flashed a quick smile and nodded slightly before continuing, "I'm getting it now." Keystone slowly and steadily brought his left hand behind him, where he had stuck the dagger into his belt earlier near his one of his own, mundane street cutters. He brought it back around, grasping it by the guard and sheath rather than the handle, and set it next to the two scrolls on Meriv's desk. "I am interested first in how much you would offer me for each of the scrolls, and the cost of identifying the blade, sir."

Keystone decided to keep Reverin's ring under wraps for now, until he knew more about people's attitudes toward the wizard in this city. Unsure about the finer workings (or any workings, for that matter) of magic, he didn't want to be associated as either a man who works for, or had a hand in dispatching, such a wizard just yet. Such as it pained Keystone to admit to himself, he needed to find a mage he could get to know and trust. The "trust" part was important.

He returned his hands to a clasped, neutral position, and tried to comport himself in his guardlike, professional demeanor, despite the images from his daydream blipping into his forethought. If he chuckled, all pretense of seriousness was done for.

His thoughts turned to something embarrassing - What if Kaylee was privy to his lapse into fantasy? ...bugger...

Meriv's eyes briefly widened to the size of teacups when he saw the timestop scroll, but he quickly resumed his normal, if even more excited, posture. He examined the scrolls with trembling hands, carefully laying the out for inspection. With a large magnifying glass, the man studied each and every fold on the parchments, grunting here and there.

"Yes yes, the scrolls are worth a fair sum of gold, to be sure. For the Fireball scroll we would be more than willing to offer you 90 gold pieces, and as for this magnificent piece of work, Time Stop, I am sure I can make you happy with 1500 gold pieces! Good price, yes? Of course it is!" he mused as he unsheathed the dagger and inspected it. Meriv kept looking at Keystone, and the dagger, Keystone, dagger. Finally, he put the dagger down and gave the monk his friendliest smile:
"I sense some tension in you, good sir. Relax, we are all friends here. You shall do no harm to us, and we shall do no harm to you! It would be terrible business to make our clients feel uncomfortable." He looked back at the dagger, as if slightly disappointed:
"This weapon is of a fine craft, but nothing I feel comfortable asking more than a hundred gold pieces to identify. By all appearanaces it is a simple echantment. I can assure you the price is a bargain, and remember, if you sell it to us, the identification and appraisal are free!" he mused.

In Keystone's mind, he felt sheer horror from the now so tiny spirit, trying to hide away in her imaginary cage as best she could. Kaylee was afraid of him, possibly moreso than she feared her previous residence. The presence quickly faded away, becoming almost imperceptible to the mind.

"You are very observant, Mr. Meriv, sir." began Keystone, letting a touch of his underclass accent slip, if but for a moment, "I'm not particularly versed in walking and speaking with magefolk, and prefer not to act in a manner unbecoming until I really get to know one."

He retrieved his items and continued, "It has been a pleasure, good sir. P'raps I'll take a walk about, see how interest fares elsewhere in the enclave. At the very least, I'll sleep on your offer. You here most days?"

Keystone carefully tucked the scrolls and dagger away, and slowly walked away from Meriv's desk to browse his wares briefly. Afterwards, he explored other potential buyers and checked prices for identification.

While browsing, Keystone took a moment to mentally speak with his more than somewhat put off cranial guest, "Hey there, Kaylee, umm... sorry you had to see that. Sometimes when I'm nervous or feeling a tad out-of-sorts with a situation, my brain sorts it with bloody colorful stories of things I'm not willing nor capable of doing. Believe you me, I thought it was a riotous bit of funnery. 'Cepting the dying. And the fire. And my bare arse being the cause of it all. Ok, that last bit was a stitch, but hey, I grew up in a horrid place. We didn't attend society plays. Bumfires (yeah, I says Bumfires) are cause for hours of adolescent giggles. Under any circumstance, they are patently incapable of what you witnessed inside my head earlier."

"Just wanted to say, sorry for grossly disturbing you. I'll try to keep my flights of fancy to a minimum."

Meriv bowed to the monk with the widest of smiles, but didn't seem overly pleased with his decision:

"I can assure you, nobody gives better prices than we do. All of our establishments within the area will tell you the same I just did. On the topic of information, shall I arrange a meeting with an interested party to seek the information you desire? If you decide now, I am sure I can convince some of the higher masters to give a bit more of their time for the same coin!" he retorted.

Within Keystone's head, Kaylee was nowhere to be found.

When the monk exited the Thay Enclave, he found that despite only being in the establishment for a relatively short amount of time, evening had set upon Telflamm, the sun slowly setting, the last lazy beams of yellow-green light coursing across the sky. The Merchant's Fortress, bathed in deep red, yellow and green tones, appeared like a magical castle, shining with all colours of the rainbow as the beams hit its walls.

In the city streets, taverns opened for the night, many patrons and sailors coming back from a hard day at work, filling the streets with a dark mob of people, walking, running, laughing, riding horses and various other creatures.

In truth, Keystone had already made up his mind about selling to the thin mage. At least, as far as he was willing to go on this day. Today was more about feeling out a situation, less about jumping on an opportunity. Still, he was in need of finances to get his own undertakings begun in earnest. That, and he needed to clear his head, get his bearings. It had been a rough few days.

Seemingly ages ago, he had found himself in the town of Two Stars. Having blown all of his money received on poor wagers, booze, and pursuing sins of the flesh, he needed a job. Now he found himself being pursued by some manner of undying warlord and his army of shambling, rotting footsoldiers, partially comprised of people to whom he had given his money days ago. Perhaps if the Knight was dealt with, the only thing standing between Keystone and getting back his previous wages was a good, rage inspired fistfight with a number of walking corpses. Ah, if only. But for now...

"You have convinced me, Meriv, at least in part. I would be pleased to part with the Fireball scroll for the price discussed earlier. I have my own appointments and expenses to see to, but I should like to give you the chance to convince me further. A man in your position can be trusted with discretion, until we speak again?"

After exchanging goods for coin, he extended his hand; a common man's expression of trust and respect. True, this Meriv seemed about as trustworthy as a grease fire, but it was the first conversation he'd had in a long time that wasn't life-or-death. It almost made him feel bad about imagining the fellow roasted alive by means of ass-plosion. He chuckled a bit, despite his situation.

"Concerning the nature of the information I seek: Famous Undead Knights. How much, do you figure, to speak with someone on that subject?"

Meriv happily accepted the Fireball scroll and handed over the 90 gold, as previously agreed. The thin man kept his wide smile ever beaming as he waved away Keystone's hand, mumbling something about wards. His animated expression returned when Keystone continued to talk business:

"But of course good sir. Anything and everything you say within the walls of this fine establishment will remain between you and us." The mention of the Undead Knight set the salesman on his heels a bit:

"That is certainly an odd request. While we have many tomes on the creation of powerful warriors, none of them would be considered knights by any ruling party, not even the archmage. He himself is very knowledgeable on the subject of liches and other forms of undead, but I do not know if we have the information you are requesting readily...." the man stopped mid-sentence, as if he realized the absurdity of his own words. "I mean, I do not doubt that the Archmage would know something about the subject you seek, but I fear his prices are befitting his stature, and his schedule is rather full...I imagine, if you would be willing to gift him something powerful, like that scroll of Time Stop, that he would be appeased enough to grant you a few minutes of his time." he finished, looking up at Keystone with a slightly sour expression.

"I fear that if you wish to speak with the archmage, that you will have to do so tomorrow, as there will be essential business to attend to later in the day and the rest of the week," he added with an even sadder expression. "A meeting well worth your time, I assure you!" Meriv was once again his bubbly self.

"Perhaps I misspoke. This thing of which I speak; if it ain't knight, it's something insane sinister that looks like one. My general knowledge leans toward other areas, sir. Understandably my specific information on this..." Keystone's eyes focused on Meriv as the next word sounded, an action subtle to onlookers but direct enough to insinuate that it is a detail worth remembering, "Glith is not enough to warrant a discussion with the head man himself, but perhaps someone with more learning than yours truly could be persuaded with some curiosity."

It seemed harmless enough to drop the creature's name. He already had elsewhere in town, and rumors in cities tended to travel quickly. He had simply lit the fire in more than one place. Knowing specifics may even help Telflamm prepare for the oncoming assault, if the latest antagonist decided to attack openly. At least, that is what he hoped. If Keystone learned something in the process, all the better. Besides, he had an idea as to what he wanted to do with the scroll. If at all possible, it did not involve handing it over to a powerful necromancer until he had exhausted other options.

"By your leave, sir, I do hope to speak with you again."

Before Keystone left, Meriv nodded enthusiastically and wrote down a name on a note, then handed it to the monk:

"Check this tomorrow, it will have a time for you to come speak to one of our junior historians, who will be much less heavy on your pouch, I assure you. Expect to spend only a few hundred gold coins to get a good amount of time with them." He ushered the monk out of the establishment as the sun set, wishing him safety in the evening streets and reminding to read the scrap of paper tomorrow.

On the paper, written in some odd chalk, spelled out a name, 'Arwan Yrsan' and was empty besides the name.

Upon exiting the enclave, Keystone gave the note that Meriv handed him a good inspection before tucking it away on his person. Looking around, he took in the sights of Telflamm from an almost nostalgic point of view. It was not unlike his own home, in certain ways. Most large human settlements must be like this.

Sadly, it might all come crashing down in a storm of rot and death magic. Might as well have a drink, toast the coming apocalypse.

Securing his valuables to himself in the manner of a man accustomed to dealing with less polite elements of society, he walked the main thoroughfare until he found an alehouse that suited his needs, and decided to spend an hour or two rubbing elbows with the locals. Check the rumormill. Have a pleasant, sit-down meal that demonstrated the local cuisine. Gods forbid, ask around to see if there are any lucrative ventures for a man of his abilities. If they had underground boxing anywhere in Telflamm, all the better. If not, he'd rarely had issue securing temporary muscle work.

Perhaps he'd sit in the stereotypical dark corner, as adventurers often do upon entering taverns. It seemed cliched, but appealed to a childlike sense of humored importance. He was one of "those guys" now, looming threat of death and eternal servitude trapped in a rotting husk notwithstanding.

Making certain not to become impaired while taking his break from otherwise pressing matters, he made a mental list on what he wanted to accomplish over the next day and a half. Tonight, he needed to find out what he could and return to the Inn with the other refugees. No doubt the paladin would be doing something selfless for the survivors, it was kind of his thing. He needed to know what Keystone found out this day.

Tomorrow morning, he rose early and got busy:

1) Check Meriv's note, see where that takes him.
2) Return to the Xiang Temple, participate in morning training. Explore the similarities between their unarmed style and his own - maybe there are lessons that could be incorporated into his own repertoire.
3) Make a charcoal rubbing of the inscription on his bracers. Find that Dwarven smith, see if he can make any sense of it.
4) Find someplace secure to set up residence, if only temporarily.
5) Purchase supplies. He'd been around refugees and people preparing for battle before, trust becomes rare. If the city came under siege, they needed to be able to hole up with supplies AND have a plan to leave quickly.
6) Try to think calm and benign thoughts. Kaylee likely needs reassurance that he wasn't a monster. On the other hand, he sometimes needed that reassurance about himself, too.