[IC] Forgotten Realms: Tales of the Dead

[DMZ]

Telflamm only got busier the next day, with more preparations being made to combat the now dangerously close and still unknown threat. The scrying attempts of wizards and clerics were blocked by some unknown force, and any riders sent out to investigate never came back to report their findings. The mood grew sour, with many merchants already starting to secure a safe way out across the Sea of Fallen Stars. The attendance at the Hall of Avenging Hammer nearly tripled since the refugees with the bad news came in, and many other places started feeling the effects of the mounting fear.

As the result of this, many merchants, clerics, wizards and other people of importance were looking to hire some extra muscle to either protect them in their fortresses, or to serve as guards on the many caravans preparing to leave the city. The Merchant's Council put out a call to any willing able to join the swelling ranks of the city guard. Many monks from the Xiang Temple already formed high organized regiments to combat the new threat and could now be seen in the streets keeping order and doing their daily training. As is usual during the chaos of a siege, prices shot up within the day to almost absurd levels, thievery and scamming rising along with it. Shopkeepers all over Telflamm were willing to part with a bit of coin to help guard their wares.

The morning training at the temple was at an all time low due to the many monks being out on the streets, but trainings of some younger monks were continuing in full swing. Of particular note was a specific class taught to the better students, and only accessible for special guests such as foreign practitioners of the art. Here, one could see the monks practicing punches and kicks that sent jolts of electricity through the target dummies with each strike.

The many taverns and inns were quickly filling up with the overflow from more refugees coming in from the eastern towns, telling horror stories about a vast horde heading for the coastal trading capital. Rooms were at a premium in all inns.

Halfway through the day, the small piece of paper with the wizard's name suddenly had an extra entry on it: Sunset, Enclave, 90 gold, 5 minutes.

Keystone hadn't seen Raa since they had first entered the city, the half orc palading blending in seamlessly with the rest of the inhabitants, but rumours were already reaching out far about 'the half orc paladin leading the refugee troops on the walls'.

Keystone's head remained clear of any outside presence, aside from the subtle but noticeable feeling of distress the closer the undead horde came.

[Sigil]

No better accommodations available than the Inn housing the refugees near the slums. Panic, or something near to it, beginning. Prices skyrocketing on food and supplies. Keystone started looking a few hours too late, and cursed himself for it. He had a little money; his traveling companion had already made his decision to stay and fight. How he envied the Half-Orc. Raa knew exactly what he had to do. Smart decision or not, it was (with certainty) the right thing. Keystone hated running, but for now understood his limitations.

The best option was probably to keep moving, try to blend into the crowds of people fleeing for their lives. This was not the path he wanted to take. Doing nothing was going to kill so many more people. Just not today, probably not tomorrow. He needed to know more.

First, he had promises to keep.

The Xiang Temple for morning calisthenics. Keystone stepped onto the training grounds, bowed as best he could considering his ignorance of their protocol, and respectfully entered the lessons. He was curious to see how the present monks had a method of combining internal power and their own outer strength, and focus it into marvelous effects of damage.

His own style and method of training was very heavily slanted to physical technique and body conditioning - hands of iron and dense flesh, reflex training, knowing where to strike. Keystone knew how to ignore weapons and bypass armor. He was lethal, moreso than most armed soldiers. These people, though, had a disciplined way about them that allowed for truly mystical abilities. He could easily keep up physically. He could outpunch and outlast most all of them in raw strength and stamina, but that was not the point of study today. Several times during his training session that morning, Keystone felt himself coming near to a breakthrough, a familiar energy trying to express itself through him, but the execution simply fell short.

He had heard of something like this before, when he was younger. Older, more experienced brawlers in the underground boxing arenas said they were able to focus themselves to cause more damage. Even practiced a bit, to the same lack of success as the present. In his youth, he thought they were saying "Cheese Attacks". Without a mentor or the writings of a master to guide him, he had only halfway figured out how to harness his Inner Cheese before he gave up to focus on what became his signature Iron Fist technique. Given his situation, it was time to give it another shot.

It wasn't until he said his goodbyes and began walking from the Temple that he slapped his forehead with his gargantuan hand, putting two and two together from his conversations inside. "Chi! Chi Attacks! Dear gods, I am a moron..." This was something to speak about with the Grandmaster at his appointment the next day.

Keystone spent the next couple of hours shopping around for offers of employment, trying to look as solid yet approachable as possible. The offer of coin aside, he let it be known that he was willing to take partial payment in quality traveling supplies. Money was fast losing value in this city, nearby places very soon, as well.

Around midday, a curious scratching sensation came from his pocket, as if someone were bearing down on him to scribble on parchment. Taking out Meriv's note, it seemed someone was. As a matter of coincidence (yeah, right), the exact amount of money required to speak with a junior historian for five minutes was how much he was given the previous day for his Fireball scroll. Maybe it was a bargain, but he doubted it. Keystone immediately turned and walked to the Hall of the Avenging Hammer.

He tracked down the priest he had spoken with the previous day. Busy or not, the second he was finished helping parishioners, he began in a moderate voice, "Glith. You know something, I could see it in your face yesterday. You're pushing an ally to the Red Wizards to keep from saying. GLITH. How do I fight him, or how do I hide from him? I need time and I need knowledge to make this right, and you're keeping me from it, priest."

He could sense that his urgency was coming off as an attempt at intimidation, and softened his voice slightly, "I'm in a special position to actually do some good. Real good, if you can help figure out my visions. If you've good reason why you can't help me, let me know now. We ain't got a lot of time."

[DMZ]

The monk got many offers that day, from a lady willing to pay good money to protect her beautiful daughters until they left town, to a bunch of merchants that already started losing supplies to the many thieves. It would be up to Keystone to pick what he wanted to do, but both offers expired that very day, as rumours about the menace hitting the city within two days were getting louder.

The priest of Tyr was not happy to see Keystone again, shrinking back as the monk strode up to him with the same forceful personality that the priest was afraid of. He recoiled upon hearing the name Glith again, stammering to give the monk a reply.
"G-Glith is great evil, great evil!" the priest muttered, seeming at a loss for words. "I know the name only because s-several years ago there was a great battle at D-Delhumide, the castle.." he paused, gathering his breath. "A great battle was waged, amidst a fortress full of demons. Many perished that day, but some walked away from it. One of them was named G-Glith, a source of great evil, for none traveling with him were ever seen again after Delhumide. T-That is all I know!" the priest exclaimed, eyes the size of teacups. Seeming content with Keystone's reaction, the priest eased up even more, taking a step back just in case.

"For your visions, there is little we can do to help. We only exorcise, we don't communicate with spirits. Psionicists could help you, but I don't know of one in this city. The other options may be the Red Wizards, but Tyr protect me, I will never recommend allowing one of them to poke around in your head, lest you wish to lose everything."

The tumult in the rest of the temple took his gaze away from the monk. When the holy man looked back upon the monk, his face was an expression of plea: "Please, leave. We have many people to attend to, and I have nothing more to offer you. Beware of the evil you have called upon yourself."

[Sigil]

The two offers of employment that stuck out in Keystone's mind, and subsequently the only ones from which he requested further detail, came from a merchant and a lady of means. Working for the merchant may ensure his goal of being properly supplied, though working as a bodyguard for a family might be a more noble undertaking. Otherwise good people became animals with the threat of war approaching. He asked for terms of service from each of them, before providing his own:

"I have appointments to keep today and tomorrow morning, including an audience with Grandmaster Shein-Fang. My business with the Temple is important, but I'm otherwise at your disposal. Responsibility goes to you during these times. Further, while under your employ I'll need my expenses covered. Food, lodging if necessary. I'm not a picky man. If either of us want to exit contract mid-through, pay me for time spent and I'll be on my merry."

(Specifically to the lady in need of a bodyguard:) "If'n you find me acceptable to guard your family, I will answer to you, not them. I am not their servant. In matters of their safety, I am in charge until you dismiss me from service. If anybody goes running off or does something outside my advisin', what happens is on them. Otherwise I will do everything in my power to keep them from harm, whether they like it or no. Terms acceptable?"

(To both:) "Jolly. Before we continue, there's the vulgar subject of coin. To risk sounding like a chiseler, what's your offer?"

---

Feeling a little sheepish and somewhat embarrassed at frightening a priest of Tyr, Keystone set a humble look to his face. "Stress, sir. Lots of stress. Thank you for your advice. Take care of these people, and if you see me again, let me know if I can help." He turned and left without incident, features held by stone neutral expression.

Outside of the Hall of the Avenging Hammer, his thoughts turned to his one remaining opportunity to locate that one Dwarf in town that may or may not be able to translate his bracers. Last chance for a while, anyway. Merchant's Square, then, while he had a couple of hours before things got really busy.

[DMZ]

By the time Keystone returned to the wealthy lady, she had already procured bodyguards for her offspring, politely declining the monk's services as she yelled instructions to her staff, busy packing up to head out of town. Elated by the mercenary's mention of the Grandmaster, she threw him a few silvers and walked away, clearly concerned with far too many things.

The merchant, a portly man by the name of Harfen, was very happy to see a fresh pair of hands willing to help him, pleading with the monk how he had lost 'over half his wares' in the last hours alone. With little bartering, the merchant offered Keystone a crummy 20 gold to serve as his guard for the remainder of the day and the next morning, starting immediately, when all the supplies would be loaded onto a caravan and shipped off. If the monk could prevent all theft during this time, Harfen promised he'd throw in some 'invaluable things for a traveler', as he called them. The portly man never elaborated what those things were.

The Merchant's square was packed to the brim, many purchasing the last essential things before they headed out of town, or desperately trying to offload the few remaining supplies before the city came under siege. On the corner of the square, in a low hovel that looked incredibly out of place in the city, the sounds of hammer and hissing water never wavered, never stopped, even as the square slowly bled dry of all other sales and craftsmen. The few stubborn suppliers that remained, were working to give the city guard the best chance of winning, crafting or preparing weapons, armour and supplies.

"Oi, get yer hairless arse 'ooer here, Tim!" yelled the dwarf. A young boy came running out of a storeroom, grabbing a hot blade the dwarf nonchalantly threw in the air shortly after his call. With practiced ease, Tim dumped the scalding blade in cold water, coughing from the cloud of steam exploding out of the bucket. "Master Rocksteady, we have two more orders from the Merchant's Council for blades, to be delivered tomorrow!" he called out, pulling the blade free of the water and inspecting it.
"Dem 'umans think we've got all the dwarves in the Realms to help us do their work!" the dwarf yelled back, extracting a second blade from the oven, its steel white hot, and hammering away. "Tell 'em I'd be more than happy, if they be willin' to pay me double, the greedy runts!"

[Sigil]

Keystone thanked the merchant for his offer, understanding that this was most likely the best deal he was going to get this evening. The rate of pay was still monstrously better than a laborer would have picked up for a similar amount of time. So, he would miss the appointment with the junior historian that evening. The whole deal sounded like a scam anyway. Keystone noted again that he would have to locate a spellcaster he could trust. With an undertaking such as this, it may well mean the difference between life and death. Noting the commotion in the shack on the corner, he turned to the merchant, "I can start in a half hour, Harfen. Need to take care of something pertinent; I will be right back."

He approached the hovel, listening to the sounds of metalwork in progress. The heat difference was notable as he neared the entrance. Before he got fully within sight of the proprietor, he dug into his pack and brought out smallish bottle wrapped up in a dark colored shirt. Unwinding the article of clothing, he carefully palmed the bottle and replaced his pack. Having dealt with Dwarves before, Keystone approached in a confident but respectful manner, eyes direct but trying not to appear as one looking down on the elder craftsman.

In practiced (if a trace slow and formal) Dwarven, he began, "Forgemaster Rocksteady, I am called Edeknurl," the last word the direct Dwarven translation, "or Keystone among my own people. I know you are very busy, but may I buy a little of your time with this?"

Keystone held up the flask-like bottle, one of a few in his personal stash. "This distillation is a thing of my own homeland. To not insult you, I did not make it myself. Men with better learning put their hearts into it. It is considered respectable in my city, though not likely as fine as the spirits of your father's kin." A little too formal. He needed practice around more native speakers, but at least the rusty hinge of his subterranean linguistics got a little movement. A little more, and he may have even felt comfortable speaking the language aloud.

Slightly flustered at his blocky speech, he exhaled sharply and continued, "If I may, Master Smith, my knowledge of the written language is less accurate than spoken Dwarven. Can you tell me what this says?" he produced the charcoal rubbing of the engraving on the bracers, and wrapping it around the bottle, offered it formally to the smith.

[DMZ]

Harfen huffed and puffed at the lost merchandise he'd miss while the monk was gone, but with his mercenary pool consisting of one, he couldn't argue. In the back of the merchant's mind, he chuckled, thinking that he would deduct some money from the payment for ignoring the rules. Content with the thought, Harfen carried on trying to move his goods to the few remaining passerbys.

The dwarf didn't notice the new arrival at the shop until he almost cut him with a red hot blade on a turn. "Tim!" he yelled, tossing the blade away, once again into the waiting hands of the apprentice, and inspected the newcomer. It didn't take long for the seasoned dwarf to notice the bottle in Keystone's hands, but the dwarf didn't make a move, boring into the monk with a long hard stare.

"Does this look like a proper forge, boy?" he said, sticking out his hands, mocking the hovel."Me homeland, the Delzoun homeland, now that had forges! Heat so strong yer blood would start boilin' if you came close! THAT 'ere forges!" he yelled with the volume of a foghorn. "This is but a campfire compared to that! So don't call me Forgemaster till ye know what a forge looks like!"
Satisfied with the rant, the dwarf grabbed a full mug of ale standing on the table, gulped it down in one go, belched and wiped his beard. With his free hand he took the bottle from keystone, smelling the contents before dumping it in the mug.
"Get that stick out o' yer arse and sit down fer a second," the smith commanded, reading the charcoal note.

"Well, not sure what to tell ye, boy. Fer one, ye didn't transcribe all of the writing on dem bracers of yers, and fer two, I doubt ye have the same sense of humour we do," he exclaimed, having finished reading. "If ye like jokes about the dwarfkin, yer bracers are a goldmine."

[Sigil]

Keystone sighed, noting that the elder dwarf seemed the boisterous but easygoing sort. With relief, he found a spot to sit and continued his conversation, this time in his own dialect of underclass Common. "Begging your pardon there, Master Dwarf, and my sincerest on hamfisting your language. Talking on your idea of forges, it's my awareness that any forge, no matter slummy, stands a better chance at making masterful things when one of your kind's at the anvil."

He noted the mention of Delzoun, and with interest piqued, continued, "You said something about Delzoun forges, didn'ya? I am to believe these bracers were made there - Dwarf name of Iron Thorgood. Would you care to take a closer look?" Keystone pushed back his sleeves and held up his arms, affording the smith a better view. "Claimed them by right of salvage from a very unkind pointy-hat. Then the world went absolutely nutshite. Big corpsified guy name of Glith destroyed Two Stars, been refugees since."

Maybe he had shared too much. At this point it couldn't hurt, he figured, and glossed over the last statement, "What do you mean by dwarfkin jokes, anyway? Did I miss something else on the bracers?"

[DMZ]

"Ye're going to 'ave to get me much more of that lemonade fer those praises to work, boy," the smith chuckled after he emptied the mug in one go. "Neer heard 'o Iron Thorgood, either. Every dwarf worth their salt knows the family names, and Thorgood ain't one of 'em," he mused.
With an almost apologetic look on his face, the dwarf shook the mug with the last drops of the spirit in it, belched again and walked over to the monk, inspecting the bracers.
"This be good work. Magnificent even. But that ain't dwarvencraft, boy. This be a common above ground item, magically enchanted by some crazy wizardkin of yers. The inscriptions are written in Dwarven, most of 'em nonsense, anecdotes an' other surfacer crap. There be one word that's full 'o magic, but I'm guessing ye know which one." He walked around to get a better look at the other bracer, shaking his head all the while.
"As I thought, more gibberish an' anecdotes. I think ye'be been conned, boy. That pointy hat 'o yer's sold ye a surfacer item, claiming it be dwarf made." he surmised, pacing over to the forge and taking up the hammer again.
"Me break be over, boy. Yer bracers tell a few dwarven jokes, tales of Clangeddin's arse and Moradin's hammer, 'an that be the only dwarven thing on there. Ye want to ask fer yer money back if ye wanted a dwarf-made set, but if ye're lookin' fer a bit 'o magic, those'll do just fine. Some mighty magic in 'em." With nary a word, the dwarf went back to his hammering, occasionally yelling instructions to his assistant.

[Sigil]

"Many thanks for your time, Master Smith." intoned Keystone in Dwarvish. A little stiff, but respectful. Speaking again in Common, "Another time, when money's not scarce, I'd love to see what you do with knuckle dusters." He balled his hands into gargantuan fists to emphasize his statement, bowed his head politely, and took his leave.

Thinking on it, either the Identify scroll he used was faulty, the Bracers were off somehow, or there was more to this mystery. While not much for trusting magic, the old Dwarf's assessment of the bracers did not sate his curiosity completely. It was enough for now, though. Other things took priority.

Speaking of priorities, his actions for the past day and a half seemed to lack true direction. A little chaotic, even for him. In the next day or two, an army of the dead will be attacking the city. This army is led by the second most frightening thing he had ever personally encountered, to his recollection.

The first most frightening entity he had ever witnessed was his longtime friend Magda, a bawd with a leg of polished ironwood from the knee down, prone to bouts of rage so overtaking that churches let out early and grown men had to avert their eyes in terror, lest the wrath and crazy consume them. Maybe he should go home and find her, let her stare down the eyeless sockets of Rotty and make him feel fear inspired by a pissed-off one-legged prostitute at a bad time in her feminine cycle.

But his thoughts digressed. He had begun to explore this city for the purposes of amassing supplies and learning more about his new enemy. He had learned some, hints from flashes of vision and a little more from a shamefully intimidated priest. Now, little better off than when he entered the city, he stood in the middle of merchants furiously hawking wares to frightened and fleeing cityfolk at rapidly increasing prices. This was not where he needed to be, at least not the most. Still, he was here. Perhaps fate put him where he was needed.

Perhaps he'd lay a fist into the face of the snarky merchant he was about to guard for and help out Rocksteady with his heavy lifting for free. Could go either way. He seemed like the type he'd drink with after a fight was through.

Enough of this center street philosophy - he was here, this is what he was doing, and unless the situation altered, this was his action until he spoke with the Grandmaster the following day. Keystone turned his attention back to the merchant, and fell into line for guard work. "Five minutes instead of thirty, Harfen. I'll try to only frighten the ones with sticky fingers."

[DMZ]

Keystone's work wat cut out for him, as within the next few minutes multiple attempts were made to steal wares, but the simple presence of the monk meant that most of them failed before they had even started. It was only when the night came that the monk had real work to do, for the shadows never stopped moving during the night. Despite his best efforts, the morning brought the unwelcome news that some of the supplies went missing, likely stolen while the guard was distracted by the multitude of other attempts. Harfen complained as much as he could, scolding Keystone as if he was the one who stole his precious merchandise, when the last of his supplies were loaded onto a caravan wagon.
"I hope you're a better fighter than you are a guard," he muttered, handing over 15 gold coins, "More than you're worth," he added, his bluster quickly stolen when he realized who exactly he was talking to.

The sun was at its highest that day, but the city was much emptier than it had been the day before. Most of the caravans were gone and most of the inhabitants were either on the walls, in the taverns or at home. The streets were empty, save for some of the braver citizens, stubborn merchants and contigents of monks and guards. As one such contingent moved past, a monk separated from the crowd and approached Keystone. With a curt bow, he conveyed that Grandmaster Shei-Fang expected him now, rather than later, and expressed his apologies at the sudden change of the meeting.

At the Xiang temple, the atmosphere was calm and collected, unlike much of the city. Many of the monks moved about the temple, reinforcing the doors and windows with both materials and some magical wards. In a side room no bigger than a closet, and smaller than many of the sleeping quarters, sat an old man, older than many would even guess. Long white hair concealed his elven ears, but it could hardly conceal the wrinkles on his delicate features. The old elf sat unmoving, solid like a statue, focusing on his inner self. His mind was clear of all interference as the old monk prepared for the upcoming battle, and waiting for his unusual guest.

[Sigil]

"You're a right bescombering man, Harfen." Keystone stated flatly. "A bloke with a less scruples, having been denied a quarter of his promised wages, would likely pummel the chiseler what done it until he felt they were square. Likely afterwards, he'd note the description of the carriage carrying the most expensive lovelies, and pass that along to the remaining classless buggers in the city. I met enough of 'em just last night."

Keystone's eyes narrowed as he looked over the portly man. He stepped in just a bit closer, and dropped his voice to a harsh whisper, "The both of us would have been better off knowing who we were dealing with." He held gaze with the merchant for a moment, then shifted his voice to a more elevated, almost pleasant tone. "Be seeing you around, Harfen. I'm hitting the road in a while, myself. Take care of that cargo."

Of course he meant to do none of those things, angry though he was. He had bigger issues than a less-than-scrupulous merchant. Putting a bit of fear into him, however, was different matter. Selfish, and a little childish, true, but it took a trace of weariness from his limbs and was immediately satisfying. He tucked his new wealth into a pocket, and began his day.

---

At the Xiang Temple, Keystone tried to remember the proper acts of respect and courtesy. Trying to emulate more than get every movement perfectly, he hoped that his attempts would be noted favorably. Holding the interesting position of an outlander, he was versed in their technical skills but not their social customs. Once or twice he asked the monks attending to the needs of the Temple the proper manner to approach and speak with the Grandmaster, but the most he really got could be summed up approximately as "don't be yourself".

Upon admittance, Keystone sat in front of Grandmaster Shein-Fang of Telflamm, and opted not to speak until the Xiang monk acknowledged his presence. If necessary, a minor throat clear at most. He set his pack to the side and tried to look patient and not at all worn out from his previous night.

He opened up to the Grandmaster with full detail and total honesty concerning everything that occurred since accepting Reverin's job offer, including the part where he didn't ask too strenuously about the details before accepting. The full truth about Kaylee, total details about the visions he received, and the interesting phenomenon of the great monster's power reduced, so long as the pugilist kept his distance. For the first time, he withheld nothing about his story. Everything.

"The thing of it is, I need to know what this Kaylee is trying to tell me. What the visions mean. How I help free her from ...this... and how I hope to have any chance against this kind of enemy. It's following me, I'm aware of this now. My skills alone are woeful inferior to the task."

He presented the Time Stop scroll, and laid it before his host. "The Red Wizards seemed very interested in getting their hands on this, Master Shein-Fang. Lots of others, too. Don't know if I can trust a man with it, wanted it that much. Maybe you can use it for yourself, or your Temple. Maybe sell it and feed your people for a season."

Keystone's face betrayed a request before continuing, "I do need help, though, if'n you're willing. I need advice. I need to know what to do next. I could do with a guide - I'm trying to pick up where I left off with Chees<cough> Chi Attacks, Master. Understand, I ain't meaning to bribe you nor make you obligated. If you have any questions of me, I'm feeling particularly honest, sir."

With a moment of hesitation, "Also, I could stand a place to lay my head for a couple of hours. It's been an interesting night."

[DMZ]

The Grandmaster listened to Keystone with unwavering attention, his eyes boring into the monk like they were trying to dig a hole through his flesh. He didn't nod or acknowledge anything Keystone said, but somehow, Keystone knew that he was listening. The mention of Kaylee brought a knowing nod from the old monk.

"It is a great challenge to contend with the dangers of the Material Plane, but one versed in the intricacies of the mind would always argue it's a greater challenge to contend with one's own mind and intrusions therein. Kaylee is a danger to your mind, Keystone. As long as she is in there, you won't be able to achieve complete peace of mind. That is the way of the mind, be it a benevolent spirit or a malicious one. For one of our calling, such intrusions are the barrier between the mind and total peace. One must get rid of the intrusion before one can achieve the highest levels of competence and balance. When that happens, you shall understand many things," the monk explained, shaking his head as if it didn't matter.

"I sense the power of the undead even now, coming closer with every passing second. He, it, is not evil. It is coming for you, and only you, stopping before nothing to achieve that goal. As long as you live with the intrusion in your mind, you will not be able to understand the greater forces at play here. I do not wish the destruction of a benevolent spirit, but I fear it will be impossible to avoid it if you wish to fight this enemy."

The monk rose to his feet so quickly that Keystone never registered the movement. He bade Keystone to show him his training routine and explained how to improve his form and accuracy. Then, Shein-Fang broke into his own set of movements, with practiced grace and control, demonstrating to Keystone the proper movements and forms. He finished with a curt bow, boring into Keystone once again with that hard, unyielding stare.

"Remember these forms. Practice them. You should start to feel improvements if you practice enough, but there will be a limit as to how far you will be able to go. Some of your chakras will remain sealed until you have gotten rid of the intruder in your mind." He handed the Time Stop scroll back to Keystone with an expression that allowed no debate: "Such magic is an open invitation to war with the Red Wizards. Even if we would win such a war, I will not have any of my pupils die for a parchment. If you are wise, you will get rid of it for a good amount of coin, or use it in combat to escape."

Shein-Fang stared hard at Keystone once again, but it was as if he didn't see his fellow monk standing there. His old green eyes briefly turned white, as he stared at, no, through Keystone, as he spoke: "In order for him to win this, you must get out." In his mind, Keystone felt Kaylee come alive and immediately shrink back, as much as that was possible, full of fear.

Shein-Fang relaxed and sat back down, eyes closed. "You will find accommodations two doors to the right out of this room. You are free to stay here as long as you like, even if that is only going to be for the next day or so. I fear we may not be able to hold off the attack." The grandmaster closed his eyes and continued his meditation, indicating the conversation was over.

[Sigil]

Unsure whether it would be insulting to bid the master a farewell at this juncture, Keystone tried bowing again (slightly more successfully than two days ago!) and exited the room. He looked down at the scroll, and pondered Shein-Fang's advice. Sell it or use it to escape combat. Well, he couldn't use the damned thing, nor did he personally know anyone who could. So, sell it was. Turns out, he did know someone nearby that showed interest. If he was still around. That was business for later.

Two doors down and a futon was business for now. He was accustomed to catching power naps if pressed for time or on the job. Despite not having an actual employer at the moment, he had never felt quite as On The Job as he did at that moment. He had a lot to think about and even more to discuss. Settling in, he opened himself up to what he referred to as "mindspeak" with his spiritual guest. He tried to be understanding.

"Kaylee, we both heard what the old master said. Gave us the first chunk of straight talk we've got about this whole mess, he did. Now, let's talk on what we know." Keystone took a deep breath and organized his thoughts.

"One, this Glith is only after me. I've half a mind to walk right up to him and politely request a quick death if I thought it would keep a thousand more from dyin' or worse. Hells, if he knows I'm not in the town, he might just let everyone else be."

He continued, "Two, your presence in my head makes me weaker. I can't do what needs being done while you're sharing rooms with my logic-box. Same time, your presence makes Big & Fugly stronger. Lots stronger."

"Three, people are going to die. I'll say this again. People are going to die. They've been dying by the dozens, hundreds maybe so far. They've been dying because of Glith. They've been dying because of me. They've been dying because of you. I need to be doing something serious on this situation before two days are over, which looks like 'bout the time more people are going to die."

"My head is not the answer. Bleeding arse, Kaylee, you've been in there for a while now - if you poked about in my memories at all you probably know I've lived a horrifying life. It must be agony in there, gods know it is for me. You need to stop being afraid, and come out. You can make him a bloody juggernaut, obviously you're powerful. You're stronger then this, Kaylee. Stronger than cowering and hiding. Don't let this Glith keep using you. Fight. Help me fight."

"In the end, I will do what I've gotta to keep the most people safe from harm, myself included. I want you to be a part of this. I'm getting a couple hours of sleep now, and when I'm up, we're getting started. If you've anything to say, now's the time."

Keystone lay down and closed his eyes. To fix the On The Job concept in his mind, he curled his fingers into his huge brass knuckles and lay his arms across his chest. "Two hours." he said aloud, "and then my watch begins." Practice forms first, Red Wizards next, tell Raa what going on (if possible), make plans to move. Fighting Glith now, or maybe ever, was ill advised. But for now, rest.

[DMZ]

"One, this Glith is only after me. I've half a mind to walk right up to him and politely request a quick death if I thought it would keep a thousand more from dyin' or worse. Hells, if he knows I'm not in the town, he might just let everyone else be."

Keystone felt a wave of denial flood his mind as that thought crossed his mind and was picked up by Kaylee.

He continued, "Two, your presence in my head makes me weaker. I can't do what needs being done while you're sharing rooms with my logic-box. Same time, your presence makes Big & Fugly stronger. Lots stronger."

When the thought of making Glith stronger passed, a set of images depicting the sword and its glowing inscription floated by Keystone, with no Glith holding it. The inscription glowed bright when the sword was depicted up close, and faint when the sword was far away. Several more images of the sword flashed by, slicing with inhuman speed when the inscription was bright, and swinging slow and cumbersome, its inscription faint. The latter images kept getting broken up by thoughts of fear or images of a cage with bars, before the entity gave up and retreated.

The call to help the monk fight did inspire a wave of happiness in Keystone's mind, as brief as it was. Determination, not his own, flooded his mind for the next few seconds, and the monk could feel his limbs becoming very light, almost weightless and easy to move as it did. Keystone also saw the image of a brick wall in his mind, a small ball of light on one side, a large two handed sword on the other.
This scene kept repeating in his mind until he voiced his intent to rest. Just as before, his mind was clear, the spirit not present.

Theme Music

With a dull thud, Glith smacked the last guard to the ground for his undead servants to eat. He inspected the hilt of the sword, smiling with an unseen mouth as the inscription on it glowed ever so faintly. On the hillock he could see into the town, as it was made ready for the assault. That always amused the ancient knight. Human, elves, orcs, any creatures that had some form of civilization, always assumed their walls would keep out most of the intrusion. Glith chuckled at the irony of that statement, even more amused by how ineffective those walls would prove to be today.

His empty eye sockets stared at the sun in its zenith, unwavering under the light that could blind any other creature. Even though he couldn't feel anything, the knight jumped out of the way when he felt a disturbance in the air around him. A split second later, the crackle of a lighting bolt passed the exact place where he stood and slammed into a tree, shattering the thick stem and setting it on fire. Glith rose to his feet and let out a hearty laugh as he saw the wizards on the town walls.

"Very well," he chuckled, turning away from the city. The few mummies, zombies and skeletons that had accompanied the large knight onto the hillock charged out of the forest and towards the town. Glith scowled, his skull twisting in an unnatural shape, as he heard the first sounds of battle. He sheathed his sword and entered the low mining tunnel, having to bend over in two just to be able to walk.

On the fields east of Telflamm, a great battle had begun, arrows, spells and stones raining down on the many undead that were shambling and charging towards the walls. Red Wizards and the city guard worked together in a long-unseen display of power, destroying many of the undead before they even managed to cross half the field.

"Conserve your strength! They will attack with the bulk of the force at nightfall!" yelled Raa, walking among the troops as the newly promoted second-in-command, peering into the horde on the field and occasionally crushing the heads of any undead that managed to get up on the wall.

[Sigil]

Keystone awoke with a start, uncurling his fingers from the warmed metal of his preferred, minimalist weaponry. He sprang up, tucking them into his pockets, and reviewed what he had learned that morning with fresher perspective. He closed his eyes, and in his mind's eye went over the words and forms of Grandmaster Shein-Fang.

The forms in particular held interest to him; similar to many of the things he learned in the slums of his homeland, which struck him as very odd. The movements were obviously adapted to a more western continental style, but it was similar enough for him to pick up easily. Not a Shou in sight, possibly ever, yet here he stood, a westerner versed in a fighting style related to these monks. Very odd indeed.

He briefly practiced the changes to his training form, considering every movement individually. The way the Grandmaster practiced it relied much less on strength than he was accustomed. Reserved, yet powerful. He could rather likely overpower the old elf in an arm wrestling contest, out lift him, outrun him... but was with absolute certainty unable to best him in combat, even if Keystone had one hundred years to practice and the elder elf was on his deathbed.

He continued his practice as best he could in the small room, the drift of his thoughts focusing him in the present. Questions, rhetorical and academic in nature floated past, as did the answers to most of them. He could never beat Shein-Fang. The old master was smart. He had access to knowledge and power that Keystone simply did not. His superior physical strength and stamina would be useless, or worse turned against him. In his time, the Master must have taken out many younger upstarts, larger and stronger both, by knowing more than they did, keeping a cool head, and demonstrating proper execution of technique. He didn't have to be stronger than his opponent; he only had to be strong enough to follow through with his movements. The realization was like a light beaming into his consciousness.

Holy crap, Keystone had to go.

He dug into his pack, procuring the magical ring of the Statue Formerly Known As Reverin. The bastard practiced Necromancy, and wore this ring to their first encounter that started this whole mess. Maybe it was for specific purpose, maybe it wasn’t. But now was a time for answers. After horking down a little sustenance, he packed away everything not related to fighting, magic, or per diem expense. Swiftly dressing in darker clothing more suited to a day of fighting, he set out from the Xiang Temple at a run.

Indecision was his enemy. Knowledge was not. The money, well… the plan to stock up and run was likely going to result in a massive amount of death, one way or the other. “Suck it up, Keystone.” He admonished himself, jogging to the Thayan Enclave. “We all die as one, if this goes sour."

The Enclave, as the plan went, and then to find Raa - the only person of the Guard that would possibly give him a moment of time. He had a trap to plan. "Don’t matter which god you pray to, nor how much blood you’ve got on you. Got a job needs doing.”

He approached the Enclave with the full intention of doing what he ought have in the first place – selling the scroll and getting answers. Maybe pick up a trick Glith wouldn’t expect of a low-born brawler like himself.

[DMZ]

Practicing the movemens taught to him by the grandmaster, Keystone felt the improvements immediately. His muscles tensed slightly quicker the more he practiced, his reaction times shortened and his punches, while hitting nothing but air, had a lot more strength to them.

The Thay Enclave was somehow emptier than it had been the day before, but Meriv was there as usual, busy scribbling something on a piece of parchment. The moment Keystone set foot inside the room, Meriv's eyes darted up to regard the monk with utmost suspicion, quickly replaced by that same beaming smile he wore the day before.
"You've come to reconsider not selling the scroll, yes? As you have undoubtedly seen by your own experience, nobody in Telflamm gives better prices than we do! Especially now, with all this tumult around the city," he chortled. The shopkeeper briefly bent down to finish what he was writing, rolled up the parchment and walked over to Keystone, no, to someone behind Keystone, the monk realized. Behind him were two men, dressed in night-blue battle-gear, but wearing no weapons. One of them, a large, well built man, took the parchment, bowed to Meriv, then Keystone, and both left the premises without a sound, vanishing into thin air the moment they stepped out of the door.

"Aer, get me some potatoes, we're to make baked potatoes for half the garrison today!" yelled a portly woman, stirring a kettle with enough force to twist metal. The boy ran over to the closet, trying unsuccessfully to tug the heavy wooden door open. "Ma, the door won-"the boy managed to yell when the door suddenly gave way, sending him flying across the room. Grunting and with a sore back, he crawled back to his knees and froze in shock. For there was a skull - an empty skull!- staring at him, encased in a great metal helmet with horns that nearly scraped the ceiling, while the armoured skull was bending forward! The boy's shock only increased when he saw mummies, -shambling mummies!- behind the large suit of armour.

The animated skill lifted an armoured glove to where its mouth was supposed to be, putting one metal finger in front of its teeth. The boy nodded, shaking with fear, as the undead took a heavy step into the room. The procession of mummies followed the armoured skull, and the boy heard a stifled yelp as they went into the kitchen.
Several terrifying minutes later, the last of the mummies shambled past the scared boy, and he dared crawl into the kitchen, his legs too shaky to stand. The boy's eyes went wide when he looked at the pot, with the heavy wooden ladle still inside it...

"Alarm! Intrusion in the city!" yelled an unlucky guard, right before his cries turned into gurgles, neck crushed by a metal glove. Glith dropped the poor sod on the ground and gazed at the unremarkable looking structure with two large, open doors, and two men walking out of them. Shrugging off the many mental and magical attacks cast by the weaker wizards, the knight took several heavy steps towards the Enclave and stopped. No matter what he did, he could not take another step. Glith gave a low grunt and began casting, bidding his zombies to cause chaos around him, which they did with uncanny effectiveness. The inscription on the sword glowed bright, making the weapon light, almost weightless.

In the Enclave, Keystone felt a sudden burst of fear as Kaylee's presence grew weaker. A faint recollection of the wall she had shown him earlier blinked in and out of the monk's mind before the spirit's presence vanished, leaving the monk with a noticeable empty spot where she had been.

[Sigil]

Keystone processed the suspicion that he had been followed by the two men behind him. He also took in the momentary look coming from Meriv when he entered the Enclave. To his credit, he tried very hard to ignore the nagging feeling that these two occurrences were related, and that he was being followed as part of some larger plan by wizards he didn't trust. Not that he really trusted any wizard at this point, but considering the circumstances he would have to act despite his personal misgivings.

"I indeed am, Meriv. I..." he paused, noting the noise outside and the alarm Kaylee expressed in his thoughts, "I intend on selling, and buying, too. What've you got that..."

Kaylee was gone. Just like that, a blank spot where she ordinarily hunkered down in his mind. This was a problem. Keystone ran up to the wall just to the side of the great doors, and risked a peek outside before withdrawing his head with no small amount of haste.

"It's here, Meriv." He spoke with forced, but urgent calm, "It's just outside, and it's right angry. What've you got what can help me disarm it without getting m'self opened up like a festival hog? And is there another way out of here?"

[DMZ]

Meriv paced to the doors and peaked out, watching the undead spellcaster battling with the ever growing numbers of soldiers and now priests, monks and wizards. He turned back to Keystone with his usual radiant smile. "You could not be in a safer place, my friend! The Thay Enclave is one of the most secure places in all of the Realms, even if our doors appear open and unguarded," he mused. "I suggest you let the good people of Telflamm do what they do best with the great aid that my friends are providing, and we should be rid of this problem soon. Now, what did you have to sell? The timestop scroll, I presume?" he asked, seeming completely unconcerned with the events outside.

Glith failed to cast his second offensive spell, growing tired and -for the first time in years- weary. Some other magic was at work, rapidly draining him of power. He could see the larger masses of soldiers, wizards and even monks massing all around him, but they stayed back. The wizards were doing most of the work, he knew. The knight gritted his teeth and stopped his newest spell, accepting his fate. With a loud growl, he fell into casting one last spell...

[Sigil]

Looking incredulously at the mage/vendor plying his trade mid-disaster, Keystone had to admire the man's dedication to his job. Of course, he also had to wonder if Meriv was partaking of recreational mushrooms. Wizards...

Something seemed a little off with the whole situation outside. Couldn't put his finger on it, but this was not right. To his own surprise, Keystone felt something akin to pity. Not so much the pity one would give to a victim of something horrendously unfair, as the monster in front of him was certainly not that, at least not today. This creature was once a man whose motivation was love and loss, pure and simple. Somewhere along the way he lost his path, and alienated the very thing he wished to care for and protect. This was a man who failed his mission. True, the mission was to murder him, thusly returning his lost love permanently to a prison of steel and dark magic.

Unless he horribly misinterpreted the visions and the explanations of individuals more learned than himself, anyway. Then all bets were off, and he was just being foolish. Whatever the case, he felt strongly that he should be out there. He glanced back toward Meriv and spoke with a mock cheerful voice, "Yeah, be there in a moment, right?"

Keystone walked outside, hands in his pockets where he could easily retrieve his preferred argument enders. Smart choice or dumb, he was doing this.

"GLITH!" a single syllable, spoken loudly and clearly. "She did love you once, Glith. She still might, if you weren't... this. Showed me, she did. Showed me a great many things. Even you, before. All she's got now is fear, more than most all of us."

Whether he understood, was listening, or neither, Keystone kept up as long as he was able, "Wise man told me you aren't evil. Watching all this makes me doubt. I can help make this right, if'n you allow it."