This topic is a continuation (of sorts) of the DiD topic I had going on this board before my guy croaked. Some were following the story so starting a new game/story.

?Now, AflockOfHippies entertainment presents, in association with Moon Sugar Productions and Oblivion Pictures...

?A Tale of Two Elves

Two Elves. ?TWO WORLDS. ?TWO STORIES.

?ONE DESTINY

??Follow Windael of Nirn as he ventures to Skyrim after news of his father's death only to discover there was far more to his inheritance than an estate.

?And Winfu-Er of Old Earth as he embarks on a dangerous journey and race around the globe to discover the secrets of The Goodscroll. An ancient artifact that has the power to undo all that was known. To either save the earth or destroy it.

Two Elves universes apart but sharing a common fate.

?I will label the Skyrim entries at the top to help better separate the two stories. Will also try to get up at least one entry per day for each if I can.

Now, onto the story. Or stories.

Written and directed by F.O Hippies. Three time winner of the Silver Skeever award for best dramatic pause, and author of such classics as, The Day Nirn Stood Still and, Big Trouble in Little Morthal.

?Skyrim 4E 201

Windael stood at the forest edge and peered inside. The forest was dark and the trees all black and dead. So thick in places that they twisted around one another. A knot formed in his throat and slid down into his stomach. He had to go in. Windael drew his sword then stepped across the threshold and into the forbidden woods. A chill running through his body as he did. It was cold inside the forest. Colder than he had ever felt. He could see his own breath almost freezing in the air.

“Dovah…” he heard the word whispered and he raised his sword while spinning around to find the voice. There was nothing. The wind? His imagination? His grip tightened with sweat and tension around the sword’s hilt. Just as he began to relax there came a loud thunder and the fluttering of heavy wings as something flew overhead. His eyes leaped to the sky, but whatever it was had already passed.

“Dovah!” he heard the word again, louder this time. His vision jumped from side to side, to the front and then behind. In the midst of turning around as his eyes scanned the forest, he spun back to his right. He saw something. At least he thought he did. There! Hidden in the dark behind the trees.

“Dovah!” The word came again. Even louder this time than before, but seemed to echo from all directions. Raising his sword, Windael stepped closer to the thick grouping of trees. Driven by a curiosity that overrode his fear. He strained his eyes to see better into the blackness. He could make out a shape. Something was moving in there. Suddenly two, large and yellow eyes opened and pierced the dark staring straight at him and the next thing he saw was a wide and open set of jaws coming to engulf him. Filled with teeth as large as daggers. Some larger even.

Windael back-peddled as quick as his could to avoid the drooling set of fangs, but lost his footing as he did. Falling to the ground as his sword slid off and into the trees. As if the forest itself was stealing it from him. He could see the open jaws coming back for him again, but abruptly felt a hand take hold his shoulder from behind. Startled even deeper by the touch, Windael looked up to see—

A sudden and large jolt to the carriage snapped Windael from his dream. He wiped his eyes and looked around to remember where he was. Ah yes, the cart to Bruma. Should be there the next day. It had been a long trip. Three days walk alone from his small, forest home to the city of Eldenwood. (Eldenwood being the closest town to him.) From there he was able to procure a carriage that took him as far as Silvenar. Another four days he remained there as he was unable to find suitable passage north into Skyrim for what little coin remained on him.

Windael began to fear he would have to head towards Falinesta. Catch a ship to Solitude from there. He prayed such would not be the case. It was highly unlikely he would have enough gold to secure passage on a ship that didn’t have him sharing quarters with goats or chickens the whole way. Doing so would also add weeks to his trip rather than heading straight north through Cyrod. He had never cared much for traveling by sea anyway. Made his stomach feel out of sorts.

But the favor of the Eight was upon him! Not only an hour before he had resigned to head toward the capital city did he stumble across a merchant caravan heading as far as Bruma. The Argonian leading the caravan was the charitable sort and allowed him to ride along. Though the lizard’s unbridled flatulence was making the trip seem even longer than it was. That and one of the rear wheels was slightly smaller than the other which made for quite the bumpy ride.

WIndael pulled the brown piece of parchment from his pocket and read the letter again. It was from his father. A father he had presumed dead his entire life until that Khajiit showed up in Valenwood with the same letter he now held. He read it again.

WIndael,

Son. I know your mother told you that I was dead ever since you were a child, but if you are reading this letter now then it means that Arkay has finally claimed me. Sorry that we lied to you about my life, but both your mother and I agreed it was for the best. I don’t expect you to understand or forgive me for the deception, but I have always regretted I could not be there.

It won’t be long before the vampires show back up and after being wounded in the last attack like I was I am not sure I can hold them off for long. My steward, Ma’tesh was wounded as well, but not as bad as I. I am sending him away with this letter before they return. I can only hope he escapes and is able to come find you. Come to Skyrim and claim your inheritance. A manor and some land not far north of Helgen. I have included a map with this letter to help you find it.

I will no doubt be dead by the time you arrive, should you decide to come, but the house and all that is in it is yours. You will find two stewards there, Sid and Vincent, who take care of the place and are expecting your arrival. They have been instructed to serve you just as they served me. And don’t worry about paying them, that has already been taken care of. And maybe you will find the answers to your undoubtedly growing number of questions as well.

Your Father

WIndael folded the letter over and returned it to his pocket. Leaning back against the rail of the carriage and closing his eyes. Just as the Argonian cart driver raised the left side of his buttocks and released another potent round of body gas. Windael grimaced as the putrid smell hit his nose and groaned within himself. It was going to be a long ride till tomorrow.

Old Earth (year unknown)

X marked the spot.

Winfu studied the map intently. The cold, harsh winds attempting to rip it from his hands as he did. At one point almost succeeding. White wintry flakes stuck to his brow, his gaze lifted to the mountain range ahead in the distance. Its snow-capped peaks standing high and stark against the blue backdrop of the sky. His eyes fell back to the map. He was close. Two days, maybe three, and the treasure would be his. It had been a long and arduous journey, but that journey was nearly at its end. He folded the map back over and slid the slightly torn parchment back into his satchel.

Winfu closed his eyes and breathed deep the familiar smells the morning breeze brought with it. The first rays of sunlight warming his cheeks as the air ran crisp and fresh through his lungs. Lost in the moment he did not see the hungry creature creeping up from the side until it was too late. It’s long, white body concealed by the winter’s drift as it slithered in from the left. Leaping out from the snow and attaching itself to his side before he could react. Its fangs were not long so they did not penetrate far, but they were many and they were sharp and the pain was intense as the creature began to feverously try and gnaw deeper in.

It was by instinct he drew his dagger and gave two quick jabs to the creature’s body. Its hide was tough and the blade barely broke through, but it was enough to cause the beast to let go its hold and with a squeal it scurried back off into the same white powder from which it came. But it would be back. He knew what had attacked him and the thing had his scent now. Had his taste. He was being hunted. And it would not stop until he was dead. Or it was.

The snow was thick and as deep as his knees so it was hard to move fast, but he plowed forward the best he could. His eyes darted from side to side. To the front and then to the back. Searching the drift for signs of movement. He could not see any but he knew the creature was there. Running out of breath, Winfu pushed on through the forest. Stumbling once or twice but quickly picking himself back up each time he did.

Forced to take a moment he knew he did not have, he rested his weight against the closest tree he could find. Loose snow dropping from its branches onto his head and shoulders. He neither cared nor noticed. The wooden trunk was cold and hard but it felt good to lean his body against it. To give his hurting legs a reprieve. Brief as it would be. He was all too aware that he didn’t have long. The creature was no doubt close and Winfu could only hope that his breath would catch up with him before it did.

A pain-filled grimace rode across his face as Winfu pulled the makeshift bandage of his hand from the wound on his side. He was trying to hold in as much blood as he could, but it continued to leak out through the gaps between his fingers. He feared he’d already lost more than his body could afford. He glanced behind him at the bright red trail of fresh blood left strewn across the white snow. Making him easy prey to track for any predator in the forest. If the Snow Eel didn’t find him then some other hungry beast most assuredly would.

Winfu could hear the eel’s awful shriek as it echoed off the trees. It was close. Just behind him. No, to the left! Wait, now it was to the right. To make matters worse a heavy snow was beginning to fall and was making it difficult to see. But the chorus of hunting calls made by the eels told him there were several of them now as they circled around him. Their fins cutting the snow’s surface like a shark’s does water. The scent of his blood had attracted more. The unnerving sound of their calls landed on his ears and chilled him even more than the winter’s cold. Time was up. He had to move.

Garnering what little strength remained him, Winfu pushed himself from the tree and ahead through the deep snow. It was difficult to lift his legs for each step and he only made it four, maybe five before falling face first into the white, wintry blanket. He turned his head to the side enough to draw air and spit out a mouthful of snow, but he found himself unable to do little more. He wondered if it was from the loss of blood or the Snow Eel’s venom finally beginning to take hold.

He supposed that it did not matter. Blood. Poison. The result would be the same either way. Death. So this was it? Not the face he had envisioned death would be wearing when it finally showed up to claim him. And he had imagined many. Still, Winfu tried to comfort himself with the thought that surely there were worse ways one could die. At the moment he was having a difficult time thinking of one, but surely there was.

With his vision fading in and out, he gazed past the circling eels and out at the mountains to the east. He was so close. Only to die now. Like this. His eyes fell closed for a moment and then reopened. The mountains were still there but a sudden veil of darkness crept in over them and rolled towards him like a grim tidal wave. It was cold. Bleak. Filled with the dying sounds of misery. Then he heard her. Her voice soft and soothing as it pierced through the blackness. She was calling his name. Her gentle voice riding upon the wind as if part of it.

“Winfu…” the sound of his name washed over his ears for a second time. Seeming to ease the pains of death that otherwise embraced him.

“Winfu-Er of Vuldinvarn!” The voice abruptly changed. Male now. Harsh and loud. Followed by the deafening clang of steel against steel which only served to further pull him from one nightmare into another. This one real. “Wake up, prisoner!” The male voice returned as Winfu slowly emerged from a troubled slumber.

The familiar stench of death and bile burned at his nose and the moans of misery around him instantly reminded Winfu where he was. The same dank and dreadful dungeon cell that had been his home for years now lost count. Winfu closed his eyes again in defeat. Wishing he could return to his dream. Perhaps he was in the middle of what promised to be a most unpleasant death, but at least there was snow and fresh air. At least he was finally dying.

“Are you Winfu-Er of Vuldinvarn?” The female voice returned. So, she was real? The thought bounced around inside his skull. He lifted his head from the matted pile of straw that served as his bed on the floor. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and the flickering torches held just outside his cell stabbed at them like daggers fresh off the grindstone.

“Answer the question, prisoner!” The male spoke along with the same loud clanging as before. Hurting his ears as the sword rattled between the bars. Winfu would have answered, but he could not. His tongue had not moved with words for so long now that it had all but forgotten how. The best he could do was a few infant-like gargles that made sense only in his head.

“Is that him?” He could hear the female ask of the larger, male figure standing next to her. By this time Winfu’s recognized him as the Cell Master. He very seldom came that far down into the dungeon, but it was not hard to recognize him out when he did. If only by his voice and his smell. A crackling voice and the smell of booze and used women.

Usually his presence meant someone was finally getting their release. Which seldom included living to see the next day. Winfu could not help but to wonder if it was now his turn. The notion did not concern him as you might think it would. A part of him even welcomed it. After years of slowly dying in the dark while hungry rats picked at his skin, it would be good to finally see it all come to its end.

“Yes, that is the one.” He confirmed. The female spoke some more, but her words were blurred and Winfu could not clearly make them out. She then handed something off to the Cell Master and he could hear all too well the sound it made when she did. He could never forget that noise. The familiar jingle of gold coin. Oh, how he had missed that song! A quite the hefty sack too from the sound of it.

There were a few more, murmured words exchanged between them and then the dungeon hallways echoed with steel scraping against stone as the cell door opened and two guards entered to retrieve him.

‘Time to go you damn, filthy thief! On your feet!” One of them shouted the order as he loomed over him. Winfu tried to push himself up but his arms lacked the strength and he fell back to the floor. “I said on your feet, prisoner!” The guard’s patience was brief and quickly followed by the steel of his boot against the bone in Winfu’s shin. A blow that would have surely been more painful than it was had he any feeling left in his legs.

“I am paying a great deal of gold for my merchandise, Cell Master Lo, I would prefer it not be damaged any further, please.” The female spoke. Louder now than before and a more serious tenure lacing her voice.

“As you wish,” he said. Turning his attention towards his men. “Guard, try not to harm the prisoner any further, if you would.” The order was given but sounded less than sincere even to Winfu’s dimmed ears.

“Don’t worry, my lord,” the guard sneered as he drew his dagger and flipped it around in his hand. The carved, bone hilt now staring directly down at Winfu along with his half-toothed grin and foul breath, “he won’t feel a thing.”

And he didn’t. The hilt came down fast and was followed by an instant and silent blackness so deep it was but one step removed from death itself. On the positive side, however, it was the best sleep he’d had in years.

?Skyrim 4E201

19th of Last Seed

As far as Windael was concerned, they reached Bruma not a moment too soon. And he thought Khajiit gas was bad. It was late when they arrived so he stayed in the city overnight and took a carriage the next day to Helgen. From there it was about a day’s walk north, but he had finally arrived.

Dragonstead Manor.

Windael stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the main porch So this was it? His new home. Looking over the river-front estate, Windael could not help but to be impressed. It was far more than he was expecting. He began to wonder if he was in the right place and started to reach for his map just to be sure.

“You must be Windael?” The voice startled him from behind. Turning quickly around he found a grizzled, old Nord standing behind him. His face and clothes covered in soot from the forge.

“How did you know that?” he asked

“Wasn’t hard to tell. You look just like him, your father.”

“You knew my father?”

“Sure,” he said, “my name is Vincent, by the way. I am the caretaker here at Dragonsted. Your father said I should be expecting you. Though, to be honest, he did fear you might not come.”

“To be honest as well, I did consider it.” Windael said with a sigh. “It was quite the surprise to learn my father had been alive and well all this time. Still uncertain what to make of my feelings on that matter.” Windael paused as he realized his inner thoughts were spilling out. “Anyway, in the end I decided to make the journey. So here I am.”

“And so you are.” Vincent said as he wiped his hands on the dirty apron. Glancing up at the sky and then back to Windael. “But for now it’s late. Will be getting dark soon and I imagine you are pretty well done in from your trip. Couldn’t have been an easy one coming all the way up from Valenwood like you did. Go on up and make yourself at home. After all, the place is yours now. You will find Sid up there somewhere milling about. A Nord, like myself, but not as old or nearly as handsome. He handles the security around here. He has been expecting you as well and can show you to your room.”

Vincent was right about one thing: it had been a long trip and Windael was tired from it. He nodded a cordial thank you to the soot-faced Nord and headed up the steps to his new home.

?Old Earth

Date unknown; somewhere in the Eltmorian Empire

“Winfu, wake up.” He heard the voice say. Falling on his ears like a distant whisper and pulling him from his sleep. After several slow stutters his eyelids finally parted and through a watery lens he found himself looking straight into the wide and startled eyes of a swine that stared back at him. It’s gaze both cold and dead. A shiny red apple lodged tightly into its mouth.

Winfu closed his eyes again and reopened them only to find the boar was still there. Still staring at him. Suddenly it raised its head and spit the apple from its mouth. Winking at him with one eye as it squealed the distinct words, ‘eat me’! Winfu rubbed at his eyes and looked again. The glazed swine was indeed there, but it was dead and roasted. No longer moving or speaking. Apple still shoved securely in its mouth. He could smell it now and his famished stomach growled with hunger and anticipation.

“Ah, you are awake.” He heard a voice speak to him from across the room and it broke his focus on the hog and the many delicacies which surrounded it. He lifted his head to see but his sight could not yet travel that far. “Please, eat. Help yourself to whatever you wish.” Winfu recognized the voice now. The female from the dungeon. The one whom had purchased his release.

His senses returning him, he began to take notice of certain changes that had been made to him. The countless layers of dirt and grime that once covered him like a second skin, and most likely accounted for half his weight, had been washed away. His skin scented with a sweet fragrance. His hair had been cut as well. What was left was washed, groomed and pulled neatly back into a tail behind his head. And his face no longer itched with the bristly rat’s nest that once passed for an un-kept beard. The torn and dirty loin cloth that failed in its efforts to cover him now replaced by a lavender, satin tunic that kissed softly against his skin.

Winfu hesitated a leery moment before accepting the offer to eat. But only a moment. His hunger quickly overtaking his suspicion as he tore madly into the cooked swine set before him. Shoving pieces of meat into his mouth as fast as he could. Often even more than his mouth could hold or chew at the same time. There was an awkward silence that filled the chamber as his hosts sat and watched his ravenousness play out. The room filled only with the sounds of his hunger being satiated like that of a wild animal devouring its prey.

“I hope you don’t mind we took the liberty of cleaning you up. You were quite the mess.” She spoke again. (He would later learn her name to be Zyla.)

‘Indeed, and that dreadful smell.” A second voice now. Male again, but not the same as before. (He would come to know the name behind it being Kinjen-Ta. An Elf, like himself.)

His sight was getting better and he could begin to make out shapes across the room. There were five throne-like chairs set about fifteen feet or so away. Four of them were taken. There was Zyla, the human female. Kinjen-Ta, the Elf and pompous ass he would prove to be. The third was occupied by a large Orc, and the fourth belonged to a slightly obese Dwarf. It would be some time before he would learn their names.

“I suppose you are wondering why we went through all this trouble and expense to bring you here?” The Orc spoke in the deep, scratchy voice so common to his kind.

“Why have you?” Winfu asked. Finding it much easier to speak than he thought it would be. The words still scratched at his throat when they passed, but he was surprised he could form them at all. It was in that pondering that he took note of the sour aftertaste in the back of his mouth. In his rampage to fill his gullet with the juicy and delicious meat he failed to notice it before. But it was there. Hidden behind the flavor of roasted swine. Healing potions. Must have been fed to him while he was unconscious. The thought made him wonder just how long he was out. Hours? Days?

“Let’s just say we have a task that needs attending to that would be suited to someone of your…talents.” The Dwarf said.

“Why me?” Winfu spoke. The words still stinging his throat. “I am no one. Just a bad thief who got caught.” He said as he swiped a sweet roll from the table and slid it into his pocket so subtle as to be obvious.

“Come now.” Kinjen did not buy the act. “There is no need for such modesty here. You are among friends. Everyone here knows exactly who and what you are. WInfu of the bloodline Er, born in the township of Vuldinvarn in the Tal Province. Mother Sanya-Er, father unknown. I could go on, but what say you we dispense with the boring details and simply call you Tei-Shirah.”

Winfu knew the name all too well when he heard it. It was Elven for, “the Ghost.” By now he had found the wine and began pouring it into his mouth straight from the bottle faster than he could swallow. The purple nectar running out both sides of his lips and down across his face and neck. Eventually pulling the bottle away and letting out a loud and crude belch as he wiped his mouth with the satin sleeve of the tunic. “Who?” He played as dumb as he thought he could get away with. As far as he knew, and was now beginning to suspect, this was all some elaborate scheme to draw the confession from him that he never gave.

“Tei-Shirah,” Kinjen said the name again, “the infamous Master Thief. Wanted dead or alive on two continents. Just dead on two more. We all know very well who you are, my dear Winfu, and that is exactly the reason we have brought you here. The question you must now ask yourself is do you wish to know why we have called upon you, or do you wish to continue with these petty games? In which case we will simply throw you back into that vile pit we pulled you from and find another.”

Winfu’s demeanor turned more serious and Kinjen knew he had his full attention now.

“As I thought,” he sneered. Leaning back in his chair as he cusped his hands together in front of his chin. Winfu was glad to be out of the cell, there was no doubting that. And even more thankful for the meal, but his concern was beginning to grow. When threats of leverage opened what appeared to be negotiations it was never a good sign of things to come. “So, tell me, why did you go back?” Kinjen asked the seemingly random question and pulled Winfu from his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Winfu replied. Genuinely confused by the question.

“Your last heist.” Kinjen grinned. “The one that landed you in that dank, Elven prison all those years ago. I mean, you had already successfully stolen the fabled Staff of Ulan-Ko and made your brilliant escape as always. Oh, and excellent work by the way. You have a most impressive career. But pulling off the Ulan-Ko heist was truly a masterpiece.

Still, I am curious as to why you returned to the castle. The Staff had already been discovered missing and the alarm sounded. The guards on alert. Surely you had to know you would be captured, if not killed on sight, if you went back. I can’t help but to wonder what was so important that the great and mysterious Ghost would risk getting caught for?”

“You said you needed something?” Winfu’s was visibly uncomfortable with the line of questioning and quickly moved the conversation away from it. Suddenly filled with memories he held no desire to discuss.

“Yes, quite.” Kinjen said as if growing bored. “Enough with the small talk. Never cared for it anyway. So, on to business then, shall we?”

There was a brief pause and then Kinjen continued. “There are several artifacts, six to be precise, we wish to have recovered. Your stellar career as Tei-Shirah leads us to believe you possess the skills we are looking for to find them and retrieve them for us. That is why we have pulled you from the belly of that dungeon and brought you here.”

“Sounds like something better suited for a mercenary or treasure hunter. Why a thief?”

“Yes,” Kinjen sighed, “it is true you are not the first we have employed for this task. There have been others. But as they have all failed, you now find yourself with a second chance. I suggest you take it.”

“What exactly is it I am looking for and where am I going?” Winfu asked. They had always been his first two questions when taking a job. Simple and logical questions considering what they were asking of him, but Kinjen did not seem to agree.

“What they are is of no importance to you at the moment. But rest assured you will be given that which you need to know when the time comes and as we deem fit. As for where you will begin, the most recent fellow we hired, an Orcanian mercenary, had tracked one of them to the Merrican Continent. However, it has been some time since we last heard from him and can only assume he has met an untimely demise as did the others.” Kinjen said with not even a passing note of concern in his voice. Not exactly selling Winfu on the job.

“Merrican?” Winfu thought out loud. He had been there before. Twice. A job both times. But it had been years. Perhaps decades? The question ran quick and brief across his mind as he realized he could not remember how long it had been since he was cast into the prison. What was the year? His thoughts came back to the moment. Merrican was the land of the humans. The land of Man.

“Yes,” Zyla broke in, “for the first of these artifacts you will need to travel to the Merrican Republic. Your travels in Merrican should not present you with too much trouble. Not from the Merrican authorities, anyway. Though there have been wars and tensions in the past between the humans and the elves, our governments are both currently observing a newfound treaty of peace and trade.”

“And the others?” Winfu asked.

“Unknown at this time.” Zyla answered. “Scattered around the world most likely. However, according to prophecy, by finding any one of the six pieces, the artifact will itself lead the one who holds it to the next. Then, once all six have been found and placed together they are said to form a map to a seventh location which holds a treasure and power greater than anything ever known to the five major races of the Earth.”

“None of that is your concern, thief!” Kinjen cut in sharply and you could tell by the annoyed tone in his voice he was not happy with Zyla for sharing as much as she did. Even though it really told him nothing. If anything left him more confused. “All you need to know is you will be generously compensated for your time and efforts.”

“How generous?” Now he was speaking Winfu’s language. Gold.

Kinjen made three quick and successive claps of his hands and even before the third clap finished the side door to the large, eloquently decorated chamber room opened. Two more Elves entered carrying between them a sizeable chest. They were both rather large and muscular for Elves, but even their combined strength seemed taxed by its weight. They set the chest down in front of the dining table from which he ate and unlocked it. Opening it up to reveal a mountain of gold coin within.

“A hundred thousand gold to start. Call it goodwill, an incentive bonus, or whatever you wish, but there is ten times this amount awaiting you should you find all six pieces.”

One million gold. Winfu ran the numbers in his head. That was a lot of coin. Far more than he had ever made before for a single job. Even though finding these artifacts might prove a rather daunting task. Could take months. Most likely years if scattered around the world as Zyla suggested. Still, the offer was as impressive as it was suspicious. It was his experience that such bounties were more often paid in betrayal than gold.

“Acquiring these artifacts is worth far more to us than any amount of gold or jewels.” Kinjen interrupted Winfu’s thoughts. Perhaps he was merely trying to boast of the wealth at their disposal, or their willingness to pay whatever sum it took to get the relics. Whatever the reason, he had shown his hand. He must not have had much practice dealing with professional thieves before. Or any thief for that matter. You never tell a thief that the item you are sending him to fetch is worth more to you than what you are already paying.

“Let’s say I accept the job,” Winfu started, “any skills or talents I may or may not have had at one time are surely dulled from the years spent in the dungeon keep. I will need time to recover.”

“You have three weeks.” Kinjen said very matter of fact. “At that time there will be a merchant ship arriving from Merrican. They will be docked here in Eltmore for a week before returning to the Merrican Continent. You will join them on their return trip.”

“Rest assured we will provide you with whatever you require in the meantime.” Zyla added. “Potions, doctors, alchemists, gear and weapons. All you need do is ask.”

“And where do I come out on the other end of all this?” Winfu still held tightly onto his suspicions.

“Wherever you wish.” Kinjen answered with the same condescending, uninterested tone that seemed to fill his voice each time he spoke. “Only richer. Once we have what we want what you do with yourself is of no concern to us. Take your riches and start a new life, return to being Tei-Shirah, it makes no difference. Now, do you accept our offer or shall we locate another?”

There was only one answer to give. He was going to Merrican.

That′s ambitious! Keep up the good work.