A Land Far Away

The Man sitting at the table looked very out of place, a dark skinned man dressed in white silks, bald save for a small topknot. Everything about him spoke of luxury, his fine silk and velvets, scented oils, and a perfect manicure... the bar he was in was as diffrent as possible from its lone patron. It was a dark place frequented by pale, dirty people, it was dank and poorly lit. The floor creaked and there were moths inside fluttering around every candle.

The man scribbled away in his spellbook. Normally, he wouldnt have studied downstairs but the place was empty of all but the barmaid.. and she couldnt read her own name in common, much less read his magical formulae over his shoulder. He paused in his scribbling to ponder the events of the last few months of his life. He had been exiled here, far from his homeland of Thay... unable to return until he was fit to wear the red, and forced to teach himself the deeper mysteries that most young Thayans had a teacher for. As he wrote more of his plans for the formulae for the "Magic Mouth" his mind wandered to the people he had met in this cursed backwater hellhole called "daggerdale"

What a pisshole, they bathe in buckets, WHEN they bathe at all... less than half of them can even read, even less think its a worthwhile notion to learn. No theater, no opera house, not even a decent track to watch chariot races

He had stopped writing, and realised he was staring at a roach scuttling across the floor. He turned back to look at his book, the invisibility spell he had been working on for years now was finished yet he had felt joy at its discovery for but a few short moments before he realised he needed so much more than this one spell.

Always hungry for more.. me and that damned crow... I wonder where he is? off vandalising some scarecrow, no doubt

Thoughts of his familiar ruining some farmers morning made him smile a bit. It had been years since he had been a rebellious prankster himself.. that had been beaten out of him by his masters, but his bird kept these vestiges of his old self.

The barmaid came by to refresh his drink, He thanked her and sank back into his reverie as she departed. He hated when he became introspective but was powerless to stop the memories of the last few weeks of his life and all the people he had met.


That Karin, nice girl... dedicated. sort of reminds me of a proper knight... well at least what passes for a proper knight in these parts. She could be really pretty if she stopped sleeping in a tent... and shaved all that hair off.

He couldnt help but smile a bit at the notion of all these backwater hicks shaving their heads and bathing. Thoughts of the girl led him on to more.

oh.. and that richard, not to bad a fellow... for a cormyrean. Unpleasant, but thats probably just because he thinks im sweet on his little hairy mess of a girl.

This time he laughed aloud. The barmaid looked at him curious but didnt ask.

Just about the only one I can connect with in any real sense is that dwarf, rust. Dwarven greed is a good healthy thing, and they respect tradition and honor for ones leige. Plus the guy seems fearless, got to admire someone with backbone

The easterner took a big gulp off his watery ale.

... And that ritual to meilliki... that night felt really strange, i felt lost the whole night. I wonder, was all the things that silly girl said about Malar true? I doubt it, she is of an opposed cult... probably just spouting propaganda. still, Id sure like to see a debate between both sides... but then two clerics yammering on about what type of leaf to wipe your ass with, would get very boring.

He looked back down at his spellbook, the unfinished page of his magic mouth spell next to his recently compleated invisibility. He wanted to pick his quill back up and get back to work but his mind still wandered.

Still.. you chose to come here. Exiled to "the dales or beyond" and you chose to come here because it had the most need for Thayan product. You did this to yourself, Zarrin. If I hate it so much, why havent i left yet? The enclave in Waterdeep would likely take me in, maybe even match me up with a master to speed along my learning.

His head ached now, he hated introspection. He hated not being sure of his plans for the future, he hated being an exile.. and worst of all he hated the notion that he was starting to think of these foreign devils as friends.

Friends end up costing you money

The Thayan left a tip of 4 copper coins on the table, closed his book, and walked off for the stairs.

That devious little devil.

Good read, Duncan. Very interesting. I don't know too much about Thayans, so it's good to get inside their heads. Keep it coming, you're gonna make an addict out of me.

Pisshole Sweet Pisshole

Be it ever so crummbly, there is no place like D-Dale,
All the folk are illiterate, and they wash their ass in pails.

No theater! No opera! Oh never any fun!
So we take a walk outside now. What's that? Oh sh*t , let's run!

*sung by certain Thayan's to the tune of "Home Sweet Home"

Well, great story dude......and as for Thayans....I think he's got em pegged myself:)

Definitely, the player props thread on Daggerdale congrats Mr Duncan on his pitch perfect portrayal.

"You really hated your master didnt you?" Rogir the wizened old ranger asked.

Zarrin was seated at a table seperate from the dalesfolk in the same run-down inn that he had made his "home" in recent days. Rogir, the speaker, was standing between the tables making his querry at Zarrin.

The question took Zarrin back to another day, another time....

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The cold bony hand of the lich grabbed the boy by his topknot and dragged him, pulling him off his feet and dragging him by his hair. The undead monster spoke to Zarrin as he dragged the boy across the floor of the hall.

"You brat, dissapoint me. Were it not for the debts I hold to your mother.. id kill you instead of the kindness I do to you now"

Zarrin knew not to grab the hand pulling him by his hair. Resisitng or even laying your hands on a red wizard was a death sentence so he dealt with the pain as best he could. Tears welled up in his eyes at the agony as he tried to crawl along at the speed his lich master dragged him but the undead thing was like a seige engine barrelling down the hall with the young apprentice in tow. The withered monster kept speaking.

"You could have missed sleep for the last three days and mastered the spell...this SIMPLE cantrip in time for my inspection. Do you REALLY think youll ever wear the red at this rate? I should just feed you to stray dogs in the street... I'd be doing your mother a favor"

Past two black armored Thayan knights the couple went, and into a cold dank chamber. In the room were three coffins, Zarrin was dragged to one of these and heard the lid creak open.

"This will teach you boy. As you have wasted three days, I see it only fit that you be punished for an equal amount of time."

Several spiders crawled out of the coffin and into Zarrins view. His blood ran cold as he was lifted up off the ground by the awesome strength of the rotten corpse. Then he saw it... hundreds of the spiders in the coffin. all manner of breed of spiders, most trying to scuttle out of the coffin we was being forced inside. Reason was gone, he began flailing about, doing anything to break free of the iron hard and icy cold grip of his master.

For his part the lich seemed unfazed by the boys struggle... he even laughed. Zarrin had never heard his master laugh in both of the years he had been serving him... but he was laughing now.

An Iron hard claw held him in place as the lid was slid over the coffin. The boys shouts went silent to the occupants of the room. Only the faint bumping of his fists beating on the lid were heard. The lich spoke one more time before leaving the room

"If you live boy.. ill come back for you in three days... and we will make an illusionist out of you despite your slackardly ways"

The first few moments of the next three days had begun. The world was blackness and poison fangs.

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Zarrin took a moment to answer the question. He couldnt let this memory be a weakness, it had to be a strength. He spoke back to the ranger in a plain even tone of voice.

"aye friend.. wouldnt you hate the man who locked you in a coffin full of spiders for three days?"

The ranger paled a bit. Zarrin was almost sure the man would vomit on him, and made himself ready to move, but the man turned away and grunted his disaproval.

"Thats horrible"

Horrible, but worth it to learn from the old monster. worth it

Zarrin spoke. "aye, one day ill go back home and kick the old bastards teeth in. He will know my vengance"

Rogir was still injured, and very exhausted... he excused himself to bed, leaving the others behind. The other folk avoided taking notice of Zarrin as they left moments later. It seemed to him that most of the unwashed folk of the dale had returned to their secretive ways after sating their curiosity about him. It suited him fair enough, he had just used a potion to help Rogir recover from his near death experience... these people keeping their distance would just mean he'd have less occasion to aid them at cost to himself.

The Thayan apprentice was alone once again, save for the barmaid who seemed to enjoy his company... or at least she enjoyed the tips he left. Frustrated at the loss of his profits and at his mental block in dealing with this magical forumlae for the magic mouth spell, he turned back to his spellbook with a frown.

Yes, one day ill stand over my masters broken body, Ill be wearing red... and he will be wearing my boot on his face.

He laughed aloud at his thoughts, the barmaid was by now used to him laughing at nothing and didnt even take notice.

...but youll have to get past mastery of the "magic mouth" before you go slaying a 100 year old lich

Zarrin laughed again.

Damn.... what a cold dude....
...
...
...
Zarrin not the Lich.

FYI, Richard isn't "unwashed" njub.

Holding his broken arm and sitting against a rock, Zarrin was treated to a sight not expected. The Cormyrean who had just the day before accused him of both slavery and of conjuring demons, handed him a healing potion.

Back home he would have expected this kind of behavior, Thayans were a civil folk... and if you needed a potions after a battle, someone would usually share. In all cases you did the honorable thing and paid for the potion, on the spot. But Richard the cormyrean refused the 50 coin trade bar that Zarrin tried to push on him. Zarrin would have taken insult had a Thayan refused his money... but he didnt know how to take this, as he was sure the customs in other lands must be diffrent than he was accustomed to. Instead he just stammered a thanks out past his sore, bruised jaw.

"Waukeen bless you"

After gulping down the contents of the potion, he surveyed the scene of the battle. There had been 8 of the bandits along the road. Everyones attention was on the prisoner they had captured for questioning... but Zarrin looked to the corpses left in the grass. Typically he would be eyeing the loot... but now he was more interested in reliving the moments he had been to busy to enjoy, the surging magic and the hum of arrows in the air.

He observed bodies torn apart by his magical blasts, and while poking around dead bodies was not one of his favorite activites... he was still drawn to look at what he had done to another humans form.

I can do better, but still I am more a wizard than when I left home. So far from wearing the red... but then so much closer than I thought Id ever be while continuing my studies in this backwater hole

He stumbled to his feet and took a deep breath. The one bandit who had reached him had given him a hard shoulder slam, breaking his arm and hurting his ribs. Zarrin looked down at that man, now torn to peices by magic, and sporting a few arrows loosed by his companions.

Thank you mighty Beshaba, for casting your ill-eye onto these bandits instead of our little band of bumblers

Karin and Rogir were in the middle of a conversation with the captured bandit, who at one point had been a citizen of the dale and a peasant in some village called "Dagger Springs", Zarrin had never seen the village.. but many people in the dale spoke of it with some measure of nostalga.

The woman prisoner was crying, and weepy words were exchanged by the women. Zarrin was a both a bit sick of such weepy cooing, and a bit paranoid of the quickly coming night. He spoke again.

"Please, for the love of common sense... we should flee this place with our prisoner before her bandit allies come back under cloak of night for some revenge"

His plea was agreed with verbally by a chorus of the tiny band. His cousin Aagati, Richard the cormyrean, and the young elf girl Qillia all spoke up to agree that Karin, Rogir, and the prisoner all get mobile and fast.

White Chalk Hollow was a tiny little walled village, with rickety wooden gates, an algae-filled pond, and cows just freely walking among the people.. but in the exhausted state Zarrin was in, and the relative safety offered by those walls.. the village was as welcome a sight as any he had seen.

The people of daggerdale, the people with whom Zarrin now shared his fate.. and apparently also shared his chances for growing wealthy, had just won their first real victory over the bandit horde. He couldnt help but join into the zeal they all felt as they collapsed into their seats to wash away pain with drunkeness.

Great posts mr duncan, enjoyable reads.

This Cormyrean says, "Bravo!" Once again, good read. Keep 'em coming. We rock, eh?

Zarrin sat under a scrawny tree near the algae pond in White Chalk Hollow. He had just finished bringing in the shells of a few giant ants to the villages blackmith. although he had a bit over one thousand coins to his name, he always was looking for more... even if it was 2 gold apiece for giant ant shells. It was his philosophy that nothing, not storms, not brigands, not pre-existing wealth, nor bandits, would ever get in his way of getting more riches.


... and speaking of bandits, it seemed there was no end to the bandits and their mayhem in daggerdale. Just as they had scored a victory yesterday, they were confounded by a diffrent bandit today. They had seen him as they creeped along the road back to the village he was living at. It had been the same wormy man that had tried to break into the pitchpine residence only a week ago.

although the band had unleashed everything they had on the man, he still managed to escape. A chase of the invisible man had ensued, all four of his companions had gone chasing the man off into the woods at night, against all better judgement. But this skulker had seemed important, and he was wounded badly, taking him down would have been a great boon to the effort to rid the dale of bandits.

In the end, the sly bastard had given them the slip. Tracking proved to be difficult in the dark moonless night, even tracking a wounded man running at top speed and bleeding along the way. It was no suprise to any of his companions that he spoke often of the need for a good gnoll tracker slave. A hungry gnoll could and would follow a scent for days, right to the victims lair if need be.

If only these dales folk would enslave the lesser races around them, they would have all the manpower they need to fight these bandits... and then some. Instead the goblinoids of the dale are just as much a danger as the bandits themselves.

He knew there was no convincing them in this case, however. Still, his mind constantly went back to the notion of a few gnolls sniffing out his enemies camp.

By this time all discipline, and even sanity, had left the band tracking down the slippery criminal. Rogir was staring at a wall blankly, his cousin Aagati was staring at the elf girls ass, Qillia and richard were staring at a spot of grass... and talking to it. Zarrins mind wandered from the notion of a gnoll tracker back to the first time he had ever seen a gnoll up close.

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It was the young childs 12th birthday. He was very excited about today, he had passed his tests into 3 of the colleges of magic and could choose any he wanted. He had already spoken with the masters at the academy and asked for a placement in the school of illusion. While these thoughts ran thru his head, the entered his mothers study chamber. She was one of the nations highest ranking people, a red wizard. The bald woman at the other end of the hallway smiled when she saw her son. Zarrin knew, even at this young age, that the smile was not so much for him as it was for his accomplishments. He stood a chance of becoming a red wizard himself, and for this accomplishment the mother had a smile for her only son.

He scampered up to her and knelt before her in the manner many westerners would kneel before their king. The bald woman leaned forward and placed her hands on his head. She stroked his mid-length hair before speaking.

"My dear boy, my clever boy. Ive just gotten news that the colleges of Divination, Illusion, AND the college of Evocation have all accepted you... and you have chosen to persue Illusion as a career."

The boy nodded, he knew his mother wanted him to be a diviner like herself... but having your child be accepted to be a wizard at all was honor enough. The boy remained silent while his mother continued to speak.

"With all the time you spent with your father, I almost feared youd end up a sailor or ships navigator like him."

Zarrin nodded again, he never wanted to be a marine, nor a sailor... his mother didnt know this about him, this was only the 5th time they had ever talked. He had always wanted to be a red wizard like his mother, but his father had been the only parent willing to spend time with him. Still silent, the boy listened to his mother speak on.

"Since you have delighted your mother with a choice of a shcool that will bring harmony to our family name, rather than the discord that would come with a poor choice such as being a conjurer or evoker.. i have decided to not only pull some strings for you to get you a master of no small prestige... but ive also chosen a gift for you."

Zarrin couldnt help but smile, his mother had never spoken a word of approval to him before. Now he was not only given approval but a gift and a favor! This day was surely blessed. Still keeping silent, he listened to his mother continue.

"As you may know, my own father was also a red wizard. He died in the battle for Priadaor, where the mighty nation of Thay seized the tharch of Priador from the clutches of the wicked savages of Aglarond."

Zarrin already knew this story, but he kept quiet.

"Your grandfather died with many debts owed to him, and those debts passed to me.... I have called in some of these debts to have the lich Qu'thora teach you the ways of illusion. This is a great honor, Zarrin of clan Canos... always show him your best face. He has been dead for 100 years, and will likely be around for that many years more, if you fail him.. he can break your career. But if you please him little Zarrin... if you please him you will have a master most apprentices would kill to have. Do you understand me, boy?"

Zarrin nodded and spoke finally.

"Yes mother, I will do my best to impress your ally, and make our family proud. I know you felt I should be a diviner, but my test for the school of illusion convinced me that it was my calling. It is my dearest hope to master that school and make you proud."

"Good then" she said "I bear no resentment of your choice. But let us get on to the next part"

His mother rang a tiny silver bell to summon her servants. When they entered, they came with a hulking monster of a gnoll. The gnoll wore only a slave collar and had a shiny new battle axe. Zarrin looked at it for a while before his mother spoke.

"This is Kurg, he is one of my best gnolls. Now, he is your only gnoll... your first slave."

Zarrin was elated, only adults were allowed to own slaves. He knew when he had been accepted to train for wizardry that he would be legally an adult in a short time... but that time was now. His mother kept speaking.

"Qu'thora owns a significant share of an architecture guild, and you will be doing a lot of land survey work for him, scouting out places where future buildings will be erected. I cant have some wild orcs killing my son before he can grow to wear the red... so keep Kurg close to you, he can tear apart many many orcs and has proven loyal many times over. Never show him weakness and he will never show you failure."

Zarrin nodded again, looking over the massive hyena monster. Still, his mother spoke on.

"Your new master is expecting both you and your slave by the begining of next week. I want you packed before your going-away party tomorrow. Youll find yet another gift, this one from your father, in your room. Since you are now to be an apprentice wizard, he has gotten you a nice set of robes to reflect your new rank. I expect to see you wearing them for your party."

Zarrins head was nearly spinning now.

"You can go now, take your slave with you and get out of my study"

Zarrin stood and snapped his fingers for his new gnoll to follow. The beast took his order and fell in behind him. Zarrin was almost skipping as he left, he was that joyous. Another sentence from his mother snapped his attention to the here-and-now, just at the door he turned to listen to her one more time before leaving.

"Oh... and boy... shave your damned head before the party. You look like a goddamned commoner running around with that childs hair-do. That is unacceptable now, you are no longer a child."

Zarrin smiled wide.

"Yes mother, I will be shaved and tattooed before you see me next."

The red wizard, who had birthed him, waved him off with a dismissive hand. He nearly ran to the barbers... his gnoll shuffling behind him all the way.

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It was raining now, The cormyrean had stopped talking to the patch of grass... and the pit of hunger was blossoming in Zarrins belly. He wandered off into the nearby town of Teshmere in search of food.. but still thinking how much easier their lives would all be if he just had one good gnoll slave with a nose for tracking.

nice nice.

Too bad Miz had to go, eh? I knew someting you didn't about that patch of grass.

Once again, Keep 'em Coming.

I really need to stop making characters whose asses are worth staring at. Next one will have to be a 6 cha half-orc club master or something. "I make da smash-ow" ... yeah... no crazy Thayans staring at that ass.

That's because Aagati thinks elven women look like underaged boys and he's a pedophile.

The two Thayans approached the bridge leading away from the village of White Chalk Hollow, they were headed out into the tesh valley to hunt a few of the giant ants that lived out that way so that they might bring the shells of the giant beasts back to the village smith. The smith was reknown for his special lightweight armors and weapons made of the hard shells.

As they approached the bridge they came upon a man screaming.

"Tippy.... TIPPY... Come boy! come here tippy! COME!"

The man was quickly going hoarse screaming the name. The man turned to see who approached and was very suprised at the appearance of the two bald and tattooed men so clearly not naitive to the dale.

"oh.. who are you?" Asked the old farmer.

"Zarrin, of Bezantur" and "Aagati, of Eltabbar" was the two answers given to the man. Zarrin went on talking to the farmer...

"Whats the trouble here, stranger?"

"Its me dog, Tippy... he done run off"

"Well, we were just about to go hunt some of those giant ants... would you like to come with us?"

"nay... i cant... "

The man went on to explain how he had once crossed the bridge to find another dog of his years back and had almost lost his arm to a bite from the very same giant ants who he feared had already killed his dog. The man was deathly afraid of going across the bridge again, and Zarrin couldnt blame him... the ants were tough enough to take a few blasts of his own magics, they certainly wouldnt be matched by a farmer with a rake. The two offered to look for the dog while they went to do their work. The farmer explained that he would wait right there.

The two thayans walked out to the plain, dotted with smaller ant hills and began their search. As usual there were a handful of the things going about the business of dragging refuse into the hole that led to the ant caves below. Also as was usual, the two Thayans killed these few workers and warrior ants with a combination of magic and crossbow work. Having cleared the plain of the ants, they still saw no sign of the dog. Zarrin had a sinking feeling about going into the caves... but bigger than his fear was his refusal to admit defeat at the hands of some pony-sized bugs. Aagati saw the look on his face and spoke.

"Are you going in there cousin?"

Zarrins only answer was to climb down into the hole, his cousin followed him with a minimum of grumbling. Aagati noticed a few dog tracks running down one of the tunnels and the pair of easterners made their way down the dark tunnel, stooping low in the shallow passage.

Past another few workers they fought till they laid eyes on what looked like a dog bleeding to death.... and the biggest ant either of them had ever seen. The monster charged them, furious with the intrusion into its hive and determined to add their bleeding bodies to the pile of trash.

The Thayans fought with their remaining spells, but this beast was a monster among monsters. It made its way past their blasts and took hold of Zarrin by the side, sinking its knife-like pinchers into his belly and back... the monster shook him like a child might shake a doll. The only thing that saved him from the second bite that would have killed him was the presence of his cousins summoned blade, digging into the monsters face. Zarrin ran as best he could and turned to unleash his last blast of evocation at the insect, and was pleased to see it die.

Upon investigation they found the dog to be very dead, while not all to upsetting to them... it did feel like failure, and some small part of Zarrin felt bad for the farmer. Zarrin had himself had a great appreciation for his old slave gnoll, Kurg, and he was sure the old man would want to at least bury his companion. And so with reluctance he bent to pick up the cannine corpse.

"Well... we can at least bring the farmer back his dog to bury it. It may at least make an ally of another local"

Aagati was in agreement, but also looking around the tunnels with a paranoid eye... they were both pretty deep in the caves now.

Zarrin bent over the dog and took one of its legs in his hand, immediately his nose was assualted by the stink of the pile. He despised being so close to dead things, and while he pulled the body from the heap, he was overrun with memories... he was 13 again and in his masters labratory.

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The young boy pulled free an eyeball from the corpse of the woman while his master spoke. The woman had been pretty in life, but was now a horrid mask of rot and death, she stank like the hells and most of her skin was a sickly blue color. although he was in training to be an illusionist, his master had a fondness for necromancy. Zarrin always attributed this to the fact that his master was a lich, one would assume that even if the master was an illusionist... that if he had garnered eternal life from necromancy that he would consider it an important subject for his pupil to learn. Holding the eye in his hand he listened to his master speak.

"Its more than mere poetry to say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, boy. Communication can generally be obtained with the dead by use of the eye. Also, just as personal are the sexual organs... if you find that a particular spirit is reluctant to visit and share information and it resisits your attempts to summon it... you can always violate the corpse sexually. This in all cases enrages the spirit, causing it to show up to your summons. From there the spirit can be bound in the normal way, perhaps even a bit easier due to its blind rage... are you listening boy?"

Zarrin had been listening at first, but as the lich had been talking a peice of meat had fallen off his cheek bone and onto the floor. Zarrin found this more repugnant than the eye he was holding. He indeed had lost track of his masters lecture, and was slapped hard by the iron-like claws of the undead red wizard.

"Dont you dare drop that eye, brat!" his master hissed. "No matter the distraction you can never let your control or your ATTENTION slip. Do you think a Rashemi berzerker will stop to lecture you after hitting you, as I have?"

"No master.... I understand.... and I have the eye still, here master... see, the eye is still in my hand" Zarrin spoke as he was standing again.

His master was rarely pleased, but gave a nod of approval for the boys tenacity. Persistance was the one trait the boy had that he liked.

"Good then. Our lesson for the day is concluded.... you may eat the eye."

"Oh, thats alright... I dont want to eat it... "

"That wasnt a request... How can you expect to master the arts of the undead if you flinch from something as simple as eating flesh? How is that eye any diffrent from the steaks you enjoy from my kitchens?"

The masters statements rang true... all matter was simply that. Meat was meat... Zombie, human, or steak... all the same. Sometimes he hated his master. He forced the eye into his mouth and swallowed it despite the stink. He knew he couldnt complain about the stink either, unless he wanted a speech from master about the stink of battle and the need to be stronger than he was. He swallowed with the smallest grimace he could muster.

"Good now, you may leave and see to your conjuration studies without me. Begone"

Glad to be dismissed, Zarrin left as fast as was prudent to be seen moving while his master watched. He always had to be careful not to look to frightened or his master would make the situation worse to toughen him up.

He only made it a few meters down the hall and beyond the closed door before he had to vomit in one of his masters planters. Grasping the trunk of the small tree housed in the planter, he emptied his belly of both the eye and his breakfast.

He hadnt chewed the eye, and it was still whole.. looking up at him from amongst his vomited fish breakfast. The sight made him heave another few times into the planter, hurting his ribs as his belly was empty now and had nothing to give up to his bodies need to vomit. While he did this... he heard his masters words, words he agreed with... "all peices of meat are the same, fear none no more than any other" While he agreed with his master, his reaction was rather the opposite he thought his master would want and expect.

Yes master, I understand... you have enlightened me. A living body should be fueled by life... and eating dead flesh is going to clog the body and soul with vile stink. Im never doing it again... eyeballs, steaks, fish... all the same.. and all are now off my menu when I have the choice. Zarrin of clan Canos is a vegitarian

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He was already outside the mound... struggling to carry the dead dog with his injured side burning like a flame lance stuck in his ribs. He would have asked Aagati to carry it, but he prefered the one of them who was uninjured to have both hands free for spellcasting and firing his crossbow.

Even carrying the dead dog, and being in incredible pain couldnt shake away thoughts of the fight. He had successfully put his new acid arrow formulae to work, He had used it to slay a foe. Broken, bloody, and stinky... he had not lost his concentration, just as his master had taught him. For a few moments on the way back to whitechalk he thought fondly of the brutal old monster who had schooled him into a wizard.

Filthy old bastard... I hate you, but I wish thats all I had for you. The worst crime you did to me was causing me to respect you even while i despise you. Undead son of a whore.

The two met the farmer who was still waiting for them. The old mans shoulders drooped when he saw his dog was dead. Still the farmers arms went out to take the dog as Zarrin neared him.

"Sorry fellow, he was long gone before we got to him. There was nothing we could do. I expected that youd want to bury him..."

The old man was teary-eyed as he took the dog. Thou biting back his tears he spoke to the two young Thayans who had helped him.

"If you boys ever need anything that an old farmer can provide... you just let me know. I live in that house outside the walls, just north of the village. I wont forget this kindness"

Zarrin managed to raise his hand high enough to pat the mans shoulder.

"many thanks, sir... but right now all I want is to go pass out for a few days"

The two parted from the sad old man and headed into the village. Zarrin dropped his pack containing the ant shells at Aagatis feet.

"Here... take these to the smith and see if you cant worm something more than two coins per shell out of him. You are a better haggler than me anyway. I need about 10 ales and a nap."

Aagati took up the shells and headed into the smiths while Zarrin stumbled his way towards the dusty road inn.