Shadows Within

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"He went up to the second floor. I'd try one of the rooms farther back," Boorand said.
The shaman nodded quickly in thanks and moved for the stairs. Shyla climbed them two at a time, walking quickly down the hall and searching for the arcane aura.
It was relatively easy to find; the room itself was a corner room, and the door was shut firmly. Shyla placed her hand on the aged wood, almost ready to walk in unannounced, then checked herself swiftly. She didn't know the extent of the human's temper, but was far from ready to test it.
She instead knocked lightly on the door, stating her presence.
"Who is it?" the boy asked through the shuffling of cloth and leather in the room.
"I'ss me, mon. Min' if ah come in?" the trolless asked steadily.
A few seconds of silence, then the bolt lifted, and the rogue swung the door into the room.

The boy looked like hell; in the solace of his room, he was only wearing his leather pants and a black swashbuckler's shirt, tied loosely up to just under the neck, with a large patch of cloth over the ragged tear in the chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing a layer of dried blood and dark scorch marks on his pale skin.
The human's crystalline blue eyes darted from the trolless to the hallway, checking the hallway out of habit before he closed the door and placed a hand on the heavy bolt.
"Locked or unlocked?" he asked quietly over his shoulder.
"Unlocked, please," Shyla replied, taking a seat in one of the two chairs in the sparsely furnished room.
Kalderin nodded silently and moved back over the the bed, picking up his dark armor even as he sat, and digging a modestly sized piece of leather from one of his larger packs.

"What is it you wished to speak about?" he asked calmly, cutting the hide gently with his dagger.
She watched him work for a moment, focusing on the smooth, practiced motions as he slowly removed the strip from the larger piece and laid it on his lap. Finally, the shaman spoke, if a bit more timidly than she meant to. "How ya feeiln', mon?"
Kalderin looked up at her, stopping briefly in the middle of finding a needle and thread. "About?" he asked, not following her.
Shyla scooted the chair over to the foot of the bed and reached over to poke his chest. The rogue cringed and sucked in a hissing breath, but didn't recoil.
"Still a bit tender," he quietly admitted.

"Choo need to get dat patch'd up, Kalderin," she told him, her face drooping an inch or so in disappointment and worry. Why was he so obstinately ignoring an open wound?
He sighed and broke her gaze, looking down to find and thread his needle. "I will worry about it later," he said.
"An' wha'tabout sleep? Choo looked like choo was gon' fall over comin' in 'ere," the trolless asked, her brow becoming a bit more furrowed.
"I do not want to admit it," the human replied in a soft voice, "but I need to sleep tonight. I do not know for how long, but I can only hope..." the boy trailed off. His hands stopped as he was about to pierce the leather, and his eyes almost seemed to glass over.

After a long, surreal stretch of silence, the human finally shook his head sadly, muttering something in Common before looking up at Shyla again. "I suppose you want to make sure I dress this wound now, hmm?" he asked.
"Yeah, mon. Das' what I was hopin'," came the honest reply.
The rogue gave her a half-hearted smirk. "Sorry... I thank you for your concern," he told her, "but I will do that on my own, in time."
The shaman sighed, seeing that we wasn't going to budge on this decision. "Fine, fine," she said, standing up. "Just don' put it off fo'eveah, okay?" she told him in an almost pleading voice.
Still smiling, Kalderin pulled a roll of silken bandages from his leatherworking bag. "I will remember, Shyla."

The shaman walked down the stairs slowly, her nose catching the scent of meat gently stewing from the fireplace. Stepping into the large room, Shyla easily spied Fronai near the fireplace, tending to a large iron pot with a watchful eye and a large ladle. A few of the other patrons were sitting nearby, chatting amongst themselves, and occasionally casting glances towards the standing orc.
"Wha's cookin', Fronai?" she asked as she walked over, sitting on a stool near the fire.
"Heavy crocolisk stew," came the warrior's reply as he added in another pinch of spices.
"Smells nice, mon," the trolless commented. "Choo know where Rajas went?"
"He and Boorand are brewing some tea back in the kitchen," Fronai said with a vague wave of his hand.

All in all, dinner was, for once, very calm for the blue-skinned woman. Fronai had ended up cooking for a dozen people, but did it with a friendly smile on his face the whole time. The others who were staying the night were rather sociable, and even though they had all arrived for different reasons, had found something to connect over for a few hours.
Shyla heard stories from the Eastern Kingdoms from a tauren, who spun a tale about meeting a rogue from Stormwind who was a master of disguises. The human had fooled him into thinking he was a blood elf for a while, somehow managing to convey everything he needed between the two of them without ever uttering a single word. Stranger still was when the human dropped his ruse; when a group of adventurers found them, the rogue managed to have them let the hunter go without so much as a passing glance.

Shyla, in turn, recounted some of Kalderin's antics at Siverwing and Blackfathom. News of the attack had spread throughout the Barrens, but the visitors were quite interested in hearing it from the source, so to speak. The shaman did her best to properly portray the slightly enigmatic behavior of the human, describing in as much detail as she dared his actions, both within and without combat.
They had heard of him, of course, but she could tell that they were pleasantly surprised by his actions; here was a foreigner, an enemy, laying down his life for the Horde, seemingly throwing away all ties to his past for the sake of eradicating a true evil. There was honor in that, even if he fought from the shadows with dubious magics.

An indeterminable amount of time passed as they all swapped stories and tales, but the trolless felt the pangs of sleep beginning to call her. She bade her good-nights all around, and moved groggily to the stairs, grasping the hand rail firmly as she walked. Her room was about halfway down the hall, but she went further, almost to the third floor's staircase, just to check on the human.
His aura was there, as unmistakable as ever, but the shaman smelled a slight hint of blood coming from the room. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard nothing, save the faint sound of the young man's breathing.
Praying for the rogue to sleep soundly, the trolless shuffled back down the hall to her door, and stumbled in.

She closed the door, checked the latch, and set the bolt before anything else. Her eyes picked up the bare traces of moonlight filtering in through the window on the northern wall, her enhanced vision amplifying the pale beams to light the room. Sighing heavily, the trolless sat down on the edge of the bed, untying the cords of her bracers, then her ankle-wraps, and removing her gloves.
The cape came next, and she habitually set the previous items on the flowing blue cloth. Next was her belt, slipping off and being set in the pile, then her headband. The shaman looked around nervously, making doubly sure that no one was in the room before untying the bindings of her jerkin and removing that, then standing to slip the skirt down. Now clad only in her undergarments, which admittedly left little to the imagination, Shyla slid under the covers, settling in for some well-earned rest.

Someone was in the room.
The door didn't move at all, the window was undisturbed, yet they had managed to get in, somehow.
Shyla's eyes shot open, but something was definitively wrong; there was no light at all in the room. A troll's eyes could see very well in dim light, but total darkness was another story. She felt the bed, still comfortably warm beneath her, but could not see, hear, feel, or smell anything else.
The trolless waited for a few moments, sitting upright and clutching the sheets to her chest, but still nothing stirred. Perhaps it was just a passing worry-

-a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her tight, but gentle. The shaman jumped back a bit, but it didn't let go. Another hand reached up to the side of her face, brushing lightly against her cheek and pushing a few errant locks of hair away. Amazingly, the phantom occupant had not made a single sound.
Curious and slightly afraid, Shyla ran her left hand along the arm that held her. The limb was thin and lightly muscled, connecting to a rounded shoulder. Moving across to the chest, she found it was also slightly tapered, with just enough muscle underneath to show that the individual was no stranger to the rigors of combat.
The figure moved closer, and Shyla's hand moved upwards instinctively, from the center of the chest to the throat, then along the face. Sharpened features found their way across her fingertips, and the silhouette moved closer, enough that she felt her breath his the stranger's face. And again, they were silent as the grave.
There was only one person she knew that could do that.

The word left her in a shocked gasp. "Kalder-"

And was quickly cut short as he leaned in to kiss her, taking care not to tear his lips on the shaman's petite tusks. It wasn't a full-blown passionate kiss, but rather a simple lip-lock; but it was more than enough to completely astonish the trolless. He held her like that for a moment, both of them breathing unsteadily in mild shock, before the human broke away, darting his tongue out to one of her tusks as they parted.
Kalderin moved his hand down from her shoulder to her hand that still gripped the sheets, and squeezed it lightly; confused, Shyla dropped the cloth as the rogue's fingers snaked around her own, clasping her hand with the same gentle force as before. Now she felt him sit on the edge of the mattress, drawing closer to her.
Shyla was short for a troll, just under seven feet tall, but she still had the human beat by almost ten inches. This proved to be a bit awkward, as his head barely rose above her breasts when they sat together. He leaned up a bit, enough to suckle on the dip where the neck meets the shoulder, and moved his hand to her back, even as she unconsciously did the same, drawing him closer.

Even with only his left hand free, Kalderin still managed to reach around to the small lump of fabric behind the woman's back, and untied it without the slightest of problems, letting the grey cloth fall to the bed and baring the trolless' modest breasts to the empty air.
Shyla gasped slightly at this, but didn't have time to think of much else; the young human's mouth had shifted down her body, latching onto one her dark blue nipples and sucking gently on the tender flesh. Her eyes shot wide at the sensation, and she ran her nails across the rogue's back.
Throughout it all, the shaman was quite literally speechless; a few heavy breaths here and there would escape, but no discernible words ever left her mouth. Even when Kalderin freed his right hand and rubbed her groin through her slowly moistening panties, there were no words.

Shyla arced backwards, letting herself fall to the mattress, and splayed her legs open. She had fooled around with herself before, so the feeling wasn't totally alien, but she had never had anyone else get anywhere near her womanhood. And yet, for reasons she couldn't fully explain, the thought of a human- no, this human, being carnally intimate with her never made her think twice.
She felt the rogue slide down more, felt his breath trace a ragged line to her crotch, his hands untying the bundle of fabric that kept her nether-lips hidden. Slowly, he pulled the underwear back, and the trolless blushed as she swore she could feel the young man smiling at her.
His fingers parted the outer lips, revealing the small pearl of her clitoris, and without hesitation, the human ran his tongue slowly across it, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through the shaman. She gasped and clutched the sheets tightly in her fists, squeezing the fabric with each pulse that shot through her body.

But something wasn't right. There was a faint, disembodied voice calling to her.
"Don't," it told her, "Don't let him do this. You can't stay with him, and you know it."
Shyla looked around, confused. It almost sounded like Kalderin's voice, but it was heavy with some unknown emotion.
"He'll get to attached to you, Shyla. When the time comes for you to leave, it will destroy him."

"No!" another voice shouted. This one was a juvenile form of the rogue's, an echo of his younger days. "You're not poisoning her mind, too!"

Two ghostly figures came to light, both of them human. One was a seemingly flawless mirror of Kalderin, the other a clear vision of him as a child. The older had a very calm stance, sef-assured and self-reliant, but the younger had a more vivid posture, as if trying to stand still was like catching rays of light in a bottle.

"What do you know of emotion?" the elder asked the younger directly.
The child glared. Shyla saw that it lacked the distinctive eye-glow that Kalderin himself possessed. "Enough to see your lies when they leave you, beast! You're trying to break him!"
The older image scoffed, shaking his head sadly. "Now now, why would I want that? I'm just showing the girl the truth," he said with a gesture towards the trolless.
"Truth my ass!" the child shouted. "You want control, and we both know this is the only way you'll EVER get it!"
To Shyla's surprise, the younger image walked over to the shaman and locked her gaze directly.

"You shouldn't have had this happen. I'm really sorry," the boy said, his eyes falling sadly.
"I's ah'righ, mon," Shyla told him, now noticing that the physical form of the rogue had disappeared.
"No, it's not," the boy replied, his voice sounding much older than his body. "This is something we don't want you to get caught up in." He pulled himself up to the mattress, reached a hand up, and gently touched her forehead.
"It's time to wake up, Shyla."

The shaman bolted upright, suddenly wide awake. The dream she had just gone through was still quite fresh in her mind; she also noticed, with a furious blush, that her sex was exceptionally wet. She shook her head, trying to figure out what it meant.
Shyla didn't find an answer, but the means to one. Still only in her underwear, she pulled out a satchel from her pile of clothes that held her reagents, and fished a large brazen bowl from the sack as well. She sat down cross-legged on the floor, and opened the satchel.
A mix of loose scents wafted from the dark Mageweave, and the shaman pulled out a single holy candle from the bag, and placed it squarely in the middle of the bowl. Reaching into it again, the trolless pulled out a single, heavy stone, elemental earth, and placed that in the bowl as well. Next, a portion of elemental air was added, then water. Finally, she removed a fist-full of elemental fire, and lit the candle before dropping it in with the rest, and began to focus.

The shaman chanted softy, asking a respectful summons of the four elements. Within a few minutes, the air in her room shifted ever so slightly, and Shyla felt the presence of minor spirits of the cardinal elements watching her.
"What is it you ask of us, Shyla Taris'thae?" the blue-tinted spirit asked calmly.
This quartet of spirits was very familiar to her; the water and air spirits were masculine, and the earth and fire were feminine.
"Ah had a dream, a vision o' sometin' strange, spirits," the shaman told them.
The stoic voice of Earth spoke up, "Then let us see this dream, young shaman."

The trolless opened her mind to the spirits, letting them see the strange visions and consider the meaning. They were silent for what seemed like forever, conferring between themselves in a wordless language.
"I would think," Air said lightly, in what Shyla hoped was a chuckle, "that you're more worried about the second part of this, hmm?"
The shaman's cheeks darkened with embarrassed heat. "Ah was 'opin choo would find dat mo' pressin', ya," she said sheepishly, earning a friendly laugh from Air.
"It is, young Taris'thae, but I cannot help but badger you. Your faces are always priceless," he admitted.
Fire gave an audible sigh. "Regardless, what you have seen is quite shocking, shaman," the spirit told her, her warm voice a mix of exasperation at her companion and concern for her charge.

"An' what is it dat I 'ave seen, exactly?" Shyla asked.
"Something is wrong with the boy," Water said. "We've seen him many times, and with each visit, the arcane corruption grows within him."
"Indeed," Air piped in, "it seems that even he, to some extent, is aware of this fact."
"His soul is split," Earth revealed darkly. "You saw the three pieces of him in you vision."
Shyla cocked her head, confused. "T'ree parts? Ah only saw two."
"Oh, you saw the third," Fire said, her voice gaining a subtle undertone. "It was impossible for you to miss."
The shaman thought for a moment, then blushed furiously again. "Oh yeah..." she muttered, 'dat one."

"Granted," Earth told her, "young Rhode would not act so... boldly. Not without express permission."
"Even as he slips farther, he clings to human modesty and respect for his fellows," Air said almost wistfully.
"That could be what saves him, brother," Fire remarked.
"His younger self," Water interjected, ending the tangent, "was being entirely truthful. That was the representation of his years before he lost his trust in his fellows, long before his corruption."
"So," the shaman asked, "if de boy was righ', and de big one was tryin' to use me, wha' was dat ting, den?"
"Quite literally," Air said sadly, "the demon within him."

"He bears a heavy burden," the yellow-tinted spirit continued. "Rhode was spared from death by a miracle of the human's Light, but it could not truly destroy the darkness that clung to him."
Shyla was struck dumb. She sat aghast, staring at the spirits in mild shock.
"He tells no one," Fire explained, "because he does not wish for them to know. He tries to keep it hidden from the world, and battle it alone. But, as you saw today, he is losing."
The trolless finally found her voice. "Bu... wha can ah do to 'elp 'im?"
"All you can do," Earth offered, "is help him replace the fel magics within his soul."

"It will not be easy," Water warned. "Arcane energies have been bound deep within his body. They have become a part of him, as much as his flesh and bones."
Fire sighed again. "We do not know if it is even possible to..."
Shyla stared at Fire, then the rest of the spirits. "Wha's wrong?"
"The boy," Earth said.
Her eyes shot open. "Kalderin!" The shaman shot up to her feet and ran at her door.
"Wait," Fire called, the spirit wrapping around her. A light layer of red hazed the air, then formed into a robe to cover the woman's figure.

Kalderin woke uneasily, pulling the sheets closer to him. He was layered in cold sweat from his most recent nightmare, the images of Salah and Raxis being tortured in green fire haunting his eyes, their screams still ringing in his ears. The rogue was breathing unsteadily, reaching over to the table beside the bed for his dagger, but stopped.
Standing at the edge of the bed was his shadow.
"You," the human said, glowering at the figure. It looked just like him, daggers, leathers, and all, but the eyes were a bright green, and it had shackles on its ankles and wrists. The chains attached to them snaked about in the air silently, mocking the human with his deepest fear.
"Me," the shadow replied in a deep voice.

Kalderin snatched up the dagger, but a chain wrapped around his arm before he could strike. Another coiled his left arm in a cold, steel embrace, effectively stopping the human from swinging.
"Come, come, my puppet," the figure said mockingly, "we've so much to do. So much to kill."
The human's glare grew deeper as he swung his left foot from under the blankets, but it, too, was wrapped in chains, along with his right.
"So defiant today," the shadow hissed in amusement. "I wonder what's gotten into you recently?"
It pulled Kalderin up to a sit, their faces mere inches away from each other. The rogue stared straight at the green eye-lights, and smirked.
Then lashed his head forward, smashing into the other with considerable force.

Shyla heard something in the room, but when she tested the door, it wouldn't budge an inch. The arcane aura inside had exploded, giving the shaman a feeling of dread as the shook the door futilely.
"Perhaps I can assist you," Air said. The trickster spirit slid under the door and pulled back the bolt.

The shadow toppled onto the floor, pulling Kalderin down with it, and the rogue wrapped his left hand around the demon's throat, holding the glinting steel blade at its neck. The creature looked at him and laughed darkly, shifting its weight under him.
"You can't kill me, boy."
The human glared, feeling his head begin to spin lightly, then they both looked over as the bolt on the door suddenly sprung open. The figure sunk into the floor, becoming his shadow once again, and leaving the half-naked rogue sitting on his knees, clutching his chest.

Shyla pushed open the door, and found him on the floor. Her eyes still adjusting to the light in his two-windowed room, she shut the door quickly and hustled over, kneeling down to his shoulders.
"Stay back!" he hissed, pushing her roughly.
"Wha's whrong wit'choo? I'ss me, mon!" the shaman half-whispered.
"I know," Kalderin growled, shoving himself to his feet with his clenched right hand.
Shyla smelled blood.

The human stumbled over to the desk and put down his dagger. Now the shaman could see that he wasn't wearing a shirt, due to the sheen of sweat on his back, even soaking through the silk bandages he had put on earlier. The young man sat down, and immediately pulled a sheet over his chest.
"Oh, no choo don'," the trolless said, grabbing the roll of bandages from the table. "Dose tings won't do no goo if dey'ah soiled dat bad." She tried to pull the blanket away from him, but he held it fast in an iron grip.
"I'll do it later," he insisted with a cold voice.
"Dis can' wait till' latah, mon!" the shaman shot back irritably.
"I said I'll do it later!" Kalderin growled.
Glaring, Shyla decided to do the only thing she knew to loosen his grip; she slapped his wound as hard as she could.
Like clockwork, the rogue cried out in pain and pulled a hand back. Shyla spun the sheet around her hand and yanked, easily pulling it free now. Then her eyes caught a clear sight of him in the pale light of the moon.

Even though the bandages covered a three-inch wide strip from his right shoulder to his waist, she could still see the sickly, discolored streaks of black running across his flesh in various areas. Some of them followed the contours of his skeleton, especially his ribcage, but most were wiry, dark veins, spread over the skin like cobwebs. The shaman gasped, feeling arcane magic coursing through the black lines.
Wordlessly, the human took the bandages from Shyla and removed the old ones with a single pull. The wound still glistened with blood, some of it fresh from tearing it open, and Kaldern wrapped another layer of silk over it, clutching an end in his teeth as he grabbed the unsheathed blade to cut the ribbon of cloth. He set the dagger and the roll of bandages down, and tied the loose end off behind his back.

"Now do you see why I wanted to do this alone?" he asked, looking at the amazed trolless. His expression fell from angry to distant as he watched her face.
Shyla reached out, running her two fingers over the lines, the slight burn of raw arcana making it feel like her hand was being held over a bed of coals. When she pulled her hand back, it was slick with cold sweat.
"More nightmares," the human told her sadly.
"'oo?" she asked.
He broke her gaze and looked out the window, his eyes glistening. "Old friends," he muttered.

The shaman swallowed hard and reached around her neck. Strangely enough, there was a light necklace there now, a delicate thing made of arcanite and mithril, that pulsed with spirit magics. It unclasped with almost no effort, and she handed it to the human.
"Put dis on," she told him. "It should 'elp."
He took it from her hand, holding it for a moment. It was cool to the touch, with alternating strings of shiny and dull links; just having it in his hand eased the burning pain he felt, if only a little. He slipped it around his neck and connected the clasp, feeling the shamanistic energy offset his arcane corruption.

Kalderin inhaled deeply, trying to calm his frayed nerves. "Thank you," he said, looking at the trolless again.
She smiled kindly; Water's magic, while nowhere near that of a greater elemental, was still a gentle push in the right direction for the human. "Don' worry 'bout it, mon. Jus don' take it off, okay?" she asked quietly.
The rogue nodded, his face calm. He watched her stand, moving towards the door.
"Ah don' know how choo got li'e dat, Kalderin," she said, looking at him worriedly, "but ah won' ask. No yet, anyway. Bu'tah'm gon' ge'choo to tell me one o' dese days, mon."
He managed to twist one corner of his mouth into a smirk. "Don't hold you breath," he shot back.

"It's a start," Water told her when she returned to her room. "Now, you need to help him make the change, Taris'thae."
"Ah know. Tan'kyou for yah help, spririts," the shaman said.
Air chuckled as Fire dissolved from around her, leaving the trolless clad in her underthings once again. "Anytime you need council, young shaman, we will lend you our wisdom."
One by one, the spirits left the room, and Shyla returned to her bed. Something was still quite unfinished, however. Seeing Kalderin only half-clothed had stirred the arousal from her dream again.
Silently, she cursed her double-edged luck as she stripped her underwear off. At this point, the trolless knew she wouldn't be able to sleep unless she took care of her raging carnal desire.

Silently, she groped her breast with one hand, the other moving to her pussy, wasting no time in rubbing her clitoris quickly as she squeezed her azure nipple. The shaman grit her teeth together to keep from moaning in pleasure, her loins screaming for release against her better judgment.
Shyla worked her hands fast, probing her nether-folds with both fingers and stroking upwards, barely falling short of the sensitive spot on the roof of her tunnel. Her left hand brought one breast upwards, and she leaned down, licking the stiffened areola and nipple fervorously as she massaged her cunt.
The trolless laid down fully, moving her other hand to her soaked crotch, and rubbed at her clit again, still fingering herself hard. She turned her head to bite down on the pillow, one of her tusks punching a hole in the cloth as she fought her instinctual urges to make as much noise as possible.

Pleasure rocked the shaman's body, her frame shaking with sexual desire that she desperately tried to quench. Her sex was pulsing with heat as she worked herself faster, half of her mind wishing for a quick release, the other wanting to prolong the pleasure as much as possible.
She stopped momentarily, to roll over and raise her rear into the air, then jammed her fingers back in, gaining the leverage she needed to reach the cluster of nerves in her cunt, and put another pair of holes in the pillow as a result. Her left hand shot back to her clit again, rubbing it furiously, even as her hips began to buck into her slickened fingers.
Shyla's breathing grew short and ragged as her pleasure rose, compacting on itself in a rumbling crescendo of ecstasy. Her tunnel clenched involuntarily on her hand, the desire for orgasm building incredible speed. Images blurred together as the trolless' eyes went out of focus, her body losing its grip on everything else, her mind shutting out the world for a few blissful moments.

With a moan that was only muffled by burying her face in the bed, Shyla came, her juices flowing freely from her throbbing pussy, coating her hands and running down her arms, with a few drops falling to the sheets.
Her hips shook as the mounting pressure eased itself from her system, and when the shaman's rump fell back down to the mattress, she barely had the will to get under the sheets again, doubly tired from orgasm and exhaustion.
Shyla looked at the trio of holes in the pillow and sighed. She'd fix them in the morning.

The high elf glanced up at his scrying sensor and sighed, smiling.
Finally, she's done. I just wish I could turn these things off sometimes.
He picked up the quill and held it loosely in his hand, the dry, blank pages of the journal staring at him in the torchlight.
Taril Sunshade made a point of avoiding his scrying devices if the subjects were doing anything that he would object to, and what the trolless had just finished with definitely qualified as such. He had heard the conversation with the elementals earlier, and the resulting assistance she had given the human. The priest's smile widened a bit at the thought of Kalderin.
I honestly thought you were dead, my friend.

But, Taril had a job to do right now. He could feel the pangs of arcane hunger stirring within himself, and shuddered involuntarily. "I suppose I should get as much written as I can tonight," he muttered, dipping the quill into a nearby inkwell and scratching the tip along the pages.

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Viva_Rose: Yeah, the caps can get a bit weird at times... I capitalize spell names, races, classes, items, and professions. And I'll admit, some of the scene changes were pretty abrupt... it's that damn third-person onmicient perspective's fault. =P

Ymir: Well, this chapter's pretty much all storyline, so you'd better like it! =D Glad I've got you back.

Kraken265: Nice to know that people are still enjoying my work. Thanks for the encouragement!