Where Do I Sign? (26 Sep 2002) Thomas signs up with the forces of darkness.

Atop the banister at the head of the stairs, a gargoyle glowers at the travelers -- Lord Explorer Thomas, Lady Redmane, Rachel of the Golden Hawks, Sir Lefallon, and Ahearn, Lord of the Horses. It took some work to pass the trap, but thanks to the explorer's agility, a twist of the gargoyle's head locked the stairs into place so that Ahearn could follow the others. Now there is only one final barrier.

Top of the Secret Stairwell
The solidly built stairs end here in a thick wooden platform supported by stone beams, and a flight of smaller stairs that lead up to the trapdoor. An unlit torch sits in a sconce upon the wall, covered with dust, a spider web forming a banner. No one has come this way in many Years.

There is nothing but silence from beyond the trapdoor. The knotted end of a rope threaded through a hole suggests that it is meant to be pulled open from the other side, but could be pushed upward from this direction.

Redmane whispers to Ahearn, "Will that trapdoor give you any trouble?"

Ahearn eyes the narrower final staircase, and the size of the trapdoor. He shakes his head in answer to Redmane. I shall manage.

Thomas tightens the makeshift bandages over the wounds from the earlier swordfight. He moves closer to the trap door carefully and directs his light towards the rope coming through. He makes sure the light is angled as to not shine through, but along, the trapdoor surface. He studies the heavy dust coating the surface of the trap door, intently.

Sir Lefallon surveys the trapdoor as well, then looks uneasily down. It would be a very long way to fall, should the railing give way. "What do you think, milord? I don't hear anything beyond."

"Death often walks silently, Sir Lefallon," Thomas replies grimly, eyes not leaving the door he investigates. Quietly, he draws his battered sword from its sheath and carefully nudges the unlit torch with it. It wobbles slightly, but otherwise appears to be unremarkable – jammed into the sconce long ago and left there, unlit.

"Best have your crossbow ready, Rachel," Redmane advises.

Rachel nods, cranking back the string on her weapon, a bolt readied to insert in it.

Sir Lefallon muses, "If this is anything like a normal bolt hole, there won't be any traps in the door itself. Defenders fleeing a castle would place the traps on the way out to deter those coming in." The younger boy pauses, looking back down uneasily. "Then again, this is the Destroyer's Keep. He may have done things differently. And one can hardly call a passage out that goes through such a maze, ‘normal.’"

"It may still be alarmed somehow," Redmane suggests, "or locked."

"I'd suggest standing back," Thomas says with a glance to Sir Lefallon. He then quietly positions himself near the underside of the trapdoor, just off to the side of it. He places his sword-tip against the door and says, "I'm going to push it open slowly and test for resistance. Be ready for anything."

The younger knight nods and draws his sword, to be ready in case of an armed response. "Aye, milord!"

Keeping close to the wall, Redmane readies her silver blade as well.

After a quick glance to the others, his attention returns to the trap door. Slowly and carefully, he starts pushing it with his sword. It moves reluctantly, squeakily, as if the hinges haven't been oiled in some time. The trapdoor is heavy and hard to move.

"We've got oil," Redmane notes. "Think now would be a good time to use it?"

"Redmane, take the thief's lamp, please, and shine it along the edge of the door. I want to see if a rug is over it, and yes, see if you can get some on the hinges," Thomas says.

Sheathing her sword, Redmane takes the lamp and directs it where Thomas asks. "We'll have to lift the door a bit to reach the hinges, I think."

Thomas eyes the slight opening intently. "Right," he agrees.

The limited view offered through a crack suggests that the trapdoor opens into a storeroom, to judge from the visible barrels and crates, or the fractions thereof that can be seen.

The black-haired girl slots a quarrel into her crossbow, and steadies her breathing. She glances around them, just to be certain nothing else is afoot on the stairwell.

With more effort, Thomas manages to open the door up a bit more. This opens enough room for, if one had a suitably thin-nosed applicator, oiling the hinges from this side. Yes, those barrels look like the sorts of things one would find in a storeroom, and to one side is a length of something metallic and bronze-colored, heaped with dust. It looks like a bar.

"Wrap your sword tip in some scrap cloth and soak it in oil. You could probably rub the hinges from here with it," Thomas suggests.

Redmane hands the lamp back to Thomas, and returns to the supply packs to fetch one of her home-made firebombs; she pulls from it a bit of cloth already soaked in oil.

Thomas peers through the opening and looks around carefully while he holds the trapdoor open. "Curious sort of room," he comments.

Wrapping the soaked cloth around the tip of the silver sword, Redmane uses it to oil what bits of the hinges are reachable now that the door is opened a bit more.

Thomas nods to Redmane and says, "Looks good." He lowers and raises the trap door slightly to try and work some oil into the hinges, then eases the door further open slowly and carefully. He stops just before the trapdoor is pointing straight up and says, "Okay, Sir Lefallon, see if you can climb through and ease the door back down the rest of the way. I don't want it to bang and attract attention."

Sir Lefallon nods. "Right, milord." He climbs up, looks around briefly, and whispers back, "It looks clear," as he sets the door to the floor.

The trapdoor opens out onto a dusty storeroom, cold, dry, darkened save for the light from the door opposite. Crates are stacked one upon another with all sorts of supplies, helter-skelter with none of the organization that Hawksmoor Keep boasted. The door on the other side is closed, keeping the room dark, but light underneath it suggests that it is daytime beyond.

A tarnished bronze bar turned to the side of the trapdoor suggests that normally intruders would be kept out, even should they breach the secret entrance, simply by laying it across the top. Randall must have opened it long ago when he made his fatal descent.

Thomas sheathes his sword and makes his way up next. He goes over to inspect the crates and barrels while the others climb up. He finds dry goods, blankets, boxes of nails, water ... the sort of thing that one puts away in a storeroom against a rainy day or a siege, and then forgets about for some time.

Redmane follows up after Rachel, and makes sure there is enough room for Ahearn to come up.

Sir Lefallon stays close to the others, where there's light. "I was sort of looking forward to a welcoming committee," he mutters with a wry look.

As he said he would, Ahearn manages well enough, making surprisingly little noise or disturbance, despite his great size.

Thomas takes a handful of nails, because, well, you never know. "All right, everyone. We're in the serpents’ den. We have three objectives here: Find Lord April, find the Lord Protector, and find the object Monitor desires. I suggest using that order in our search, as I feel that is the order of most importance. If you have any suggestions, reservations, thoughts, or ideas, please suggest them now while we are in relative safety," he says calmly and firmly. He turns to face the others and clasps his hands behind his back.

"Well, it sounds good to me so far," Redmane says. "But I'd like to know what's on the other side of the door before making definite plans."

The young knight swallows. "Do we have any ideas where any of these are, milord?"

Rachel nods to the order of importance. She considers the room around them. "I'd like to know that, too," she remarks in response to Simon's comment. "Do we even know where we are in the Keep? Do either of you have memories of this place?"

"Lord April I suspect is in a tower. If I remember correctly, Faust's journal said as much. The Lord Protector is in someplace dark, so look for unicorn statues or perhaps entrances to the dungeons. As for the item of power, not at this time," Thomas replies in even tone, then glances at Rachel. "If I do, I wonder if somehow I'm repressing them. Do you have suggestions for awakening old memories?"

Redmane barely manages to keep a straight face when Thomas asks that question.

Ahearn gives a sharp look to Redmane.

The young boy knight shakes his head. "If this were any ordinary castle, stores would be kept in the ground level, close to hand so they could be fetched as needed. Near the kitchen and stables and forge, belike. But we climbed a long distance, from very deep in the ground, so I couldn't guess how high we are now, or whether this place is like ordinary castles."

Rachel bites her lip, thoughtful. "Nothing comes to mind about reviving memories, save that being here might remind you. Even apart from the evidence of Faust's journal, I would expect Lord April to be in a tower cell -- possibly, the highest tower in the Keep. It is traditional to keep highborn prisoners in tower cells. I should not expect to find him, or Lord Melchizedek, in a dungeon. Though with such a foe as this, we cannot depend on conventions."

Thomas closes his eyes. He concentrates on the feel of the room, the air, the smells, and thinks, "Is any of this similar, familiar?"

"Expect both then," Redmane says. "There could be a Lord April in a tower, and one in the dungeon as well. The Destroyer's doppelgangers are very convincing, and having one be rescued would fit his sense of humor."

Sir Lefallon looks unsettled by Redmane's suggestion. "How would we test one?" he wonders.

"I suggest no one use each others name’s in the presence of anyone we rescue. I rather doubt Lord April would recognize me and if he uses my name..," Thomas mutters, thinking. "Let’s start high, the towers, then move downward. Down is the way out and less backtracking, anyway." He then quirks a small smile. "And I think I have an idea of how to test it," he adds.

"Let's see if we can get the door open," Redmane suggests. "Storerooms are usually locked from the outside."

Thomas nods to that and moves to the storeroom door. He presses his ear against it and listens for movement.

Nothing ... so far.

Thomas waves the others back. "Keep your crossbow on the door as I open, Rachel.” Then, he places his hand on the handle and slowly opens the door.

One corner of Rachel's mouth briefly quirks as she complies with Tom's directive. Otherwise, she remains sober and steady, waiting.

The door opens outward onto an empty hallway, with a blank facing wall of thick stone blocks. Nearby is a larger stairwell that goes both upward and downward. Though there is no one immediately visible or audible in the hall, the walls are thick enough that they could be moving about in more distant rooms without causing notice. A smoky aroma comes from a single torch burning high on the wall halfway down.

Quietly, Thomas slips through the doorway, one hand resting on his sword and looks around. "Let’s move quickly. The less time we're here, the better," he whispers.

"Servants’ hall, do you think?" Redmane whispers as enters the passage.

"This near a storeroom? Most likely," Thomas agrees.

The young knight nods. "'Twould seem so." He peers into the stairwell, looking up and down. "Should we take these stairs, or look for others, do you think?"

"These halls should go just about everywhere," Redmane says. "Let's keep to them as much as we can, and work upwards."

Thomas waits for the rest to come through, then quietly closes the storeroom door behind them. He kneels down and pulls out one of the old nails and makes a couple scratches on it. He then sets it point up, tucked into the corner where the door meets the wall. "To let us know if anyone opens this door," Thomas explains, "The nail won't be in the same place, most likely, if someone does before we return. Or even the same position, hence the scratches." He stands and nods, saying, "Stairs going up, then?"

"They seem to," Sir Lefallon agrees. "I can't tell how high, though; it gets too dark."

"Well, I did suggest we start high and work down, so I vote for up," Thomas says and walks into the stairwell to look up.

The stairwell is echoingly empty, and the occasional cobweb spans from step to wall.

"No objections? All right, let’s go -- slow and careful," Thomas says, then starts up the imposing stairway.

Sir Lefallon follows close, sword still drawn, while Redmane takes up her usual position between Rachel and Ahearn.

The stairs prove to be quiet enough as the party climbs. It is several flights before the Lord Explorer comes upon a floor of the castle which is lit from arrow slits that must look out onto the courtyard. The stairs continue upward, as well.

Redmane pauses for a moment to avoid stepping on something, then moves on. "Deja vu," she mutters.

"Deja vu?" Thomas inquires as he peers through one of the arrow-slits and tries to get a rough idea as to the fortress outside layout.

"Oh, just saw a lizard that reminded me of our first expedition into the Icejaw Pit," Redmane comments. "Probably rats and other vermin running around too, assuming any escaped the goblins."

The keep looks as if it hasn't been completely abandoned, but everywhere Thomas looks through the slits, he can see that there was once a great force kept here -- an unruly one, to judge from the campfire debris, the stoved-open barrels and kegs, some scattered bedrolls. Now there are some sentry vyglaris, giant bug-centaurs, on the gateway wall, and from here, there are no signs of others moving around in the open, but there could be any number of people within the keep itself.

The courtyard is, as described in Faust's journal, a mockery of the three circles motif of Mirari, formed with black rocks set into bare dirt, reigned over by a demon with drawn scimitar and looming batwings. A stone unicorn statue stands on a pedestal at the intersection of all three circles, like its counterpart in the Royal Siege. Off to one side is a curious sight so far from the water: a large black boat big enough for ten men to sit in it, resting upon four arches of gray stone. A thin frosting of snow obscures everything.

"There was an army here," Thomas says grimly, "But they appear to have gone. Not good. Not good at all. Curious demon statue out there as well. Makes me think 'Siege of Darkness' or some such. I wonder if it’s functional -- and if so, how I got to the mortal realm."

"Or how the Destroyer gets around," Redmane says. "Anything moving?"

"Some nasty-looking bug guards, like the one we took down at the old church," Thomas comments. "Pity we didn't try and sneak some dynamite to this world. I'd like to remove that 'Siege' out there."

"We may need it," Redmane points out. "Let's get to the tower as fast as we can, then. If the army has moved out, they may have moved the prisoners too."

"I'm not about to use it," Thomas mutters, then starts heading further up the stairway. "How is everyone doing?"

Rachel stealthily moves forward to glance out through an arrow slit, too. A thoughtful frown is on her face. "Remember how the Siege of the Forest was blocked by the Scarecrow?" she remarks. "I wonder if we could do something to disrupt this Siege."

Sir Lefallon shakes his head. "Well enough," he says in a low tone. "But looking out there, seeing so huge a space, makes me think that this keep might be likewise enormous."

"Another good reason to hurry," Redmane says.

Thomas pauses and glances back to say, "Not a bad idea, if we had anything to block it with. Perhaps knocking over the statue would disrupt it for a bit. Think on it as we head up. Something may present itself." He turns and continues up.

The stairs continue upward for more flights, aching leg-wearying flights, and then they end on a much more richly appointed floor, the servants' entrance shielded by strategically placed curtains. These halls are finely appointed, with tapestries hanging along the hall and gilt braziers providing warmth even on this Winter day.

"Smell anything unpleasant coming from the hall?" Redmane asks Ahearn in a whisper.

"Royal quarters," Thomas comments and walks slightly out into the hallway. He listens intently and peers around. "Or hear anything, Ahearn," Thomas adds to Redmane's question.

The stallion's nostril's flare, ears swiveling. This place is not as abandoned as it looks, he answers, in his way. There's been traffic here recently. He turns his head. I hear something -- there may be someone coming even now.

There's a slight clattering of beads, and rather suddenly, a familiar face appears. Wide yellow eyes peer at the group from beneath white clumps of red, yellow, and black beaded hair. The small reptilian fellow beckons at the adventurers hurriedly. "Come, come! The cold approaches, best not to be out in the cold! He comes!"

Thomas' quirks an eyebrow. "You? Come where? Who comes?" Thomas asks, suspicious.

Sir Lefallon whirls about, breath catching in his throat. He points his sword toward the small reptile, but holds back as the tiny fellow appears to pose no armed threat.

"I thought that lizard looked familiar," Redmane mutters -- but grins as she does so.

Ahearn eyes the little man with a suspicion the echo of Tom's, but he follows that with a glance about, as well. A stallion is in no position to take cover behind a window curtain or tapestry.

"He's one of Monitor's minions," Redmane whispers to the Lord of Horses. "At least... he was last time we met." Louder, but still in a quiet voice, she says, "We might as well follow him; he didn't lead us astray last time after all."

The tiny, scaled man steps away from the wall he was hugging, then splays his back against the stone again as Sir Lefallon points his sword. Guide shivers. "So cold!" He waves a hand at Thomas, an impatient gesture softened by a pleading look. "It bears a tray for its master, but is yet a match for you." Sliding along the wall, it skips sideways a couple times, then breaks into a full run towards a partially open door from which a warm glow emanates. He doesn't close the door as he slips inside, offering a glimpse of a rich mahogany desk and a dark tapestry inside.

"Any act of betrayal and you'll get close and personal with my friend's blade," Thomas mutters, then follows after. "Be prepared to fight, be ready for anything," he says, placing his hand upon his hilt and drawing the blade partially.

Sir Lefallon looks back uneasily, then follows as quietly as he can.

Redmane tells Rachel, "I'll watch your back, don't worry."

Lord Explorer Thomas hurries into the study, followed shortly by Sir Lefallon, Rachel and Ahearn, and Lady Redmane. They barely have time to take in the features of the room -- a large overstuffed chair facing away from them, toward a roaring fire, a dark wooden desk gleaming with ruddy reflections, a tapestry so dark it appears black at first, before they hear footsteps coming quickly down the hall, then slowing as they approach the door. A puzzled voice grumbles, low like the goblins were, in an unintelligible language, and then the steps proceed onward slowly.

Reaching up to wipe his brow in relief, Sir Lefallon's sleeve snags on a cloak rack, which begins to lean precariously as he looks up and tugs on it in a panic, trying to free himself.

Thomas reaches out quickly to steady the rack and keep it from falling, brow furrowed.

Swiftly caught by Thomas, the rack is set back into place without a sound. A palpable cold wind blows through the doorway as the guard continues on his way, a huge menacing-looking goblin who is the giant version of the lesser goblins seen in the dungeons. What can be seen of his face seems as if it were melting from his bones, so low do his cheeks hang; his skin is blue-grey, and his legs and arms appear out of proportion to his body, thickly muscled. He carries a tray of food down the hall.

Thomas glares at sir Lefallon, then comments to Redmane in whisper, "Can you keep an eye on 'Mr. Happy' out there and see which room he goes in? I'm going to talk to our 'friend'."

Sir Lefallon looks mortified, yet immensely relieved that his mistake was so quickly repaired. He offers Thomas an apology by look.

"Yeah, I'll watch out for Frankenstein's return," Redmane whispers, and takes up a position just inside the doorway.

Guide stiffens as Thomas whispers, and a hand whips into the air in a gesture for silence. His chest stops moving as the reptile stops breathing, and he slowly points at the chair's back.

Thomas pats Sir Lefallon's shoulder, then looks at the Lizard.

There is no sound but the crackling of dry wood in the fireplace.

Thomas eases his sword very slowly out the rest of the way and moves sideways slowly, trying to get a glimpse if someone is in the chair.

A black-robed figure, hood pulled up over his head, can be barely glimpsed in the chair, though his chest does not rise or fall from breathing as the Explorer watches. Something glitters on the desk as well, catching his attention. A silvery pen, embossed with some monogram that can't be made out from here, perched in a stand. A scroll case near the desk holds rows and rows of rolled-up vellum parchment.

Thomas moves closer, listening intently for breathing and trying to catch a glimpse of the monogram on the pen. He approaches from the rear, hopeful that he will not be spotted.

The initials are.... They're written in a very fancy flourishing Victorian curlicue style. Thomas can make out the letter J, intertwined with H. And then the figure shifts in the chair, its hooded face turning slowly.

Thomas tries to duck down and hide behind the chair. "Great, just great," he thinks.

Someone who is fast enough can catch a glimpse of a lizard's tail vanishing into a nearby vase, which quakes only slightly.

"Ah. A visitor," speaks a harsh, grating voice. No face can be seen within the hood that addresses Thomas. "Have you come to pledge your service to the Destroyer? Or are you perhaps a thief, a spy, a would-be hero? How should I welcome you?"

"It would depend on whom I am addressing and if you are worth knowing my name and purpose," Thomas replies with a hiss, deciding he'd better try to play this out somehow.

"You address a servant of the Destroyer," comes the amused reply. "You tread in dangerous places. Submit and you may live, defy and you will die."

"Ah, but danger is my life. Surely you would have heard of me. I am known to your master and am here to aid him now, as the world of Mirari turned its back on me ages ago," Thomas counters in a low and hopefully evil sounding tone, thinking, "I hope he buys this."

"An interesting story," returns the figure. He stands slowly, but there is something disquieting about the way he stands and then moves slowly across the room to the scroll case. He seems to glide across the floor. His gloved hand reaches out to gesture toward the many scrolls. "Can you show me your contract among these, adventurer?"

"There would be no contract. I have not walked these lands in nigh fifteen Years," Thomas counters, sounding annoyed. "I came here of my own accord and desire."

"Then you must sign one." The hooded figure gestures toward the desk and a drawer opens by itself. He reaches into the drawer, takes out a scroll covered with thick, dense writing.

"I sign nothing until I speak to Lord Eoin myself," Thomas replies coldly. "Take me to him."

Listening from the doorway, Redmane begins to wonder if the only beings left in the keep are undead minions. But she takes heart that the Destroyer is still looking for new recruits.

"Sign now or never," the cloaked figure says. "When you have signed, then you may meet the Destroyer. Until then, you are an intruder in these halls." He takes the pen from the desk and holds it out.

A tiny brown anole pokes its head over the lip of the vase. It hoists itself over the edge somewhat ungracefully, and scurries around behind it, out of view again. A short moment later, Redmane can see him advancing toward the desk before losing sight of him again in a pile of scrolls.

Sir Lefallon, still out of the figure's gaze, tenses with his hand on his sword. He glances toward Redmane, as if looking for orders.

Catching Lefallon's glance, Redmane shakes her head. She doesn't want to provoke the wraith until she knows what Guide is up to.

Thomas moves forward to the scrolls and tries to make out names on them as he approaches. "Then you will face his wrath by not taking me to him first," Thomas counters. "I think he would prefer to speak with me. I have much to offer in trade to him. Information gathered over Years of searching."

Ahearn shifts subtly, bracing himself for a charge. Rachel adjusts her crossbow.

Rolled up as the scrolls are, and inserted into their tidy little holes, they reveal little information to Thomas other than that the Destroyer has many servants working for him in many places. Still, this action serves to keep the Destroyer's servant from looking backward to where the others are hiding.

Thomas taps his fingers on his sword hilt and glances quickly toward Redmane, then the wraith. "And if he refuses to negotiate terms with me, my information will most assuredly serve his enemies," Thomas continues on, trying to stall for time.

The hooded figure's shadowed eyes, if he has any, weigh heavily upon Thomas. "What gift have you brought to purchase your entry into his service? You appear empty-handed."

It takes an eagle eye, but one last glimpse of the lizard can be caught as he scrambles across the rug and under the desk.

"I know Lord Eoin's true name, his origin, and how all this came to be. And how he can be undone," Thomas replies with a small, evil, grin. "And should I fail to return safely from this place, I have arranged it such that the information will make its way nicely back to the Court."

Redmane gestures to Sir Lefallon to get ready, and keeps her eyes on the desk while tensing for a charge.

The hooded figure pauses, eyeless gaze boring into Thomas's eyes for a time. "Perhaps a meeting may yet be arranged, if you do indeed know such interesting things, and can prove them," the Destroyer's servant admits. "The Destroyer is not present at this time, but he may deign to speak with you soon. I shall summon a servant to find you quarters where you may wait upon his pleasure." He begins to turn toward the entrance, and it is only seconds before his gaze will surely fall across the others in the room.

Thomas waves his hand low, trying to shoo the others out of the room. He then pretends to stumble and presses his weight heavily on the table, trying to disturb the scrolls and distract the creature. "Excuse me," Thomas says. "It has been a long journey. Your offer is acceptable. I will wait."

Drawing her steel blade, Redmane checks the hallway quickly to make sure it's clear, then steps outside quickly and gestures for the others to follow.

Sir Lefallon mutedly follows Lady Redmane, and behind him follow Ahearn and Rachel with all due speed and silence. Rachel looks near panic-stricken for Tom, however.

A little ways down the hall, an empty room provides a hiding spot for the rest of the party. "What do you think Thomas' chances are of getting taken to wherever Lord April is being held?" Redmane whispers to Rachel and Sir Lefallon.

Sir Lefallon looks nervous. "I thought we were all dead back then," he whispers back. "I think it'd be asking way too much to get lucky like that."

"Worse than his chances of being torn limb from limb by an undeceived Vyglari," Rachel frets in answer to Redmane.

"The fact that the monster offered Thomas the chance to join says much, I think," Redmane whispers to the others. "If the Destroyer had launched his final attack already, I don't think the offer would have been extended." She eyes the crossbow Rachel has at the ready. “I don't know that a crossbow bolt would have any effect on that creature," she says, "otherwise I'd have signaled you to shoot it, Rachel. We can't attack it while Tom is within easy reach of it."

A bell tolls from somewhere behind the walls – a deep and sonorous peal, like a death knell. Redmane jolts, then notes, “Sounds like something is about to happen. Hopefully the lizard will be able to follow Thomas wherever they take us, then show us the way."

Rachel pulls the bolt from the crossbow without uncranking the string, and runs the back of her hand across her forehead. "Dear Lord," she whispers. "What next?"

"And the keep will be on higher alert now too," Redmane notes. "Unless we eliminate the minion before he can rouse the guards."

The figure is suitably distracted as Thomas dislodges several drawers, turning back to survey him from head to toes. "It is indeed a long distance to this place ... and now that I think of it, the vyglaris that stand guard should surely have announced your entrance. How is it that they did not?"

Thomas offers a wry smile. "I know many secrets. Some include this place; an issue for Lord Eoin’s ears only," Thomas replies and waves a hand. "How long until he returns? Are there others I may converse with here to pass the time?"

"You have come to the Destroyer's Keep, not a common drinking room," observes the hooded figure disapprovingly. "You shall speak with myself alone, until you have proven yourself worthy of greater trust."

"Indeed. Then perhaps the Destroyer doesn't have near the allies I thought and he's grown weaker since the days of the Jack of Hearts. Perhaps you are all that is here," Thomas says, attempting to bait. "Anyway, how should I address you, then?"

The hooded figure looks long into Thomas's eyes again, and the shadows that shield his true face from view, if any, remain as impenetrable as ever. "For now, you may address me as Shadow. When you enter the Destroyer's service, you will call me Master. You will address the Destroyer as your Lord."

Thomas levels his gaze at the figure. "And perhaps you will call me Master, Shadow. We shall see. Your Lord and I have a long history; far longer than I imagine yours has been with him. But enough, show me to my quarters and I will await your Lord's return," Thomas says calmly and coldly.

Shadow turns once again, his gaze sweeping across the room. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he glides across the room, his legs visibly moving unlike a man's beneath the folds of his robes, and pulls upon a cord, eliciting a deep and sonorous bell, like that of a church's tolling for death. "A servant will show you to your quarters."

"As you like," Thomas says dismissively. "How long until he returns?"

"To that, I cannot say. The Destroyer keeps his own schedule; it is to we servants of his to adhere to his wishes, not he to ours," says Shadow reprovingly.

"I will have to bring that up with him. It displeases me that I know not how long I have to wait," Thomas replies and heads to stand in the doorway and await the servant.

Sir Lefallon nods disquietedly. "But... I doubt they will trust Thomas enough to give him free run before his loyalty is known. We might have to rescue him as well as Lord April and the Lord Protector," he whispers.

As Tom is looking at the wraithlike creature, he can see the desk behind him... specifically, a drawer sliding open, and a lizard's head poking out of it. Swiftly, the reptile snatches the silver pen from its holder, and replaces it with a black one, which shimmers and turns silver, though a closer inspection shows no sort of detail or craftsmanship on it. Guide hurriedly slides the drawer shut again. A moment passes.

"Wait," Thomas says.

The hooded figure, gaze beginning to turn toward the fire, turns back toward Thomas again. "Are you discontented with our arrangement so quickly? What will you demand next?" he wonders.

"While I seek to speak with the Destroyer, I do not wish to wait forever in some room. What would it take to allow me at least walk the halls and speak others that may be here? I bore easily and I fear the books here will likely be incredibly dull," Thomas replies.

Shadow laughs lowly, grating, dissonant. "Sign the contract, and you will see quickly enough the rewards of doing so. Do you wish to do so now?"

Footsteps sound in the hall. One of the guards must be approaching.

A brown reptilian face now peeks out from beneath the desk and up at Tom. The lizard edges out a bit farther towards the adventurer, clutching the silver fountain pen in his forepaws and eyeing Shadow warily. His eyes widen at the wraith's words, and he looks up at Tom, shaking his head emphatically.

Thomas scowls, looking irritated. "No. I will wait. I never sign a non-negotiated contract," he says and turns away to wait for the guard.

As Tom turns away, he can feel something slip into his boot. It's cold, scratchy and ticklish.

The figure shakes his head to and fro, as if amazed that any could be so fractious in the heart of the Destroyer's power. As the servant arrives, his gaze turns toward the liveried ice goblin that has arrived. "This man," Shadow says in a harsh tone, "is to be shown suitable quarters in the nobles' hall. He will not be permitted to leave that hall. He will be served his meals until it is the Destroyer's pleasure to speak with him. If he attempts to escape, kill him." The figure bows mockingly toward Thomas, and awaits his reaction.

"Get used to bowing to me, Shadow. You will do it again, I assure you," Thomas replies mockingly to the wraith, then walks out of the room to accompany the guard.

The ice goblin grunts acknowledgment of the hooded figure's orders, then turns about to lead him away. Shadow's only response is to laugh, low and deep and arrogant, as he turns to glide back to his chair.

Sir Lefallon looks up as he hears doubled footsteps near the door, one heavy, one lighter. He looks at Redmane questioningly.

"I can't tell if the hooded thing is with them or not," Redmane says, listening at the door as well. "Two sets of footsteps. Who's for following? We can just follow the chill."

Ahearn nods his head in answer, moving a hoof towards the exit to the room they are sheltering in.

Sir Lefallon raises a hand in agreement.

Rachel nods to Redmane, too. "Let's go.

Redmane waits until the footsteps sound more distant, then opens the door a crack to check the hallway.

The oblivious ice goblin guard leads Thomas toward the far end of the hall. Only his back can be seen, and Thomas's.

Seeing the way clear, the party follows after the heavy footsteps of the goblin.

Thomas just gets a smug grin on his face and follows the goblin. "I will speak well of you to Lord Eoin," he tells the goblin. "And poorly of his servant, Shadow. He's grown far too haughty in his position."

The goblin grunts a response. He pushes open two large double doors and leads the way into another hall that goes deeper into the keep, just as finely furnished as the rest of the royal quarters, and halts before a door which stands open, showing a palatial suite. Another grunt.

"Am I allowed to walk this hall, at least? I do not remember him saying I was restricted to this room only," Thomas inquires of the goblin.

The guard points back to the large double doors, then shakes his hand back and forth in a gesture that effectively communicates, “Do not pass these doors.”

Thomas nods to that. "As you request. Thank you," he says, then walks into the room.

The guard's gaze turns back toward the double doors, but slowly enough that Lady Redmane is able to press back into the shadows, and urge the others into cover. He begins to tromp back up the hallway.

Thomas locates the bed and sits down. He chuckles lightly then makes an invisible tick mark in the air. "Thomas, old boy, you still have it," he says, feeling pleased with himself. He then taps on his boot and says, "And you in there, come out. It's clear. Let’s see that pen you swiped..."

There is no response from the boot. The cold presence within the leather is long and stiff, and a moment's exploration reveals the cause: a silvery fountain pen, polished 'til it gleams, embossed with the initials JH. Even after having been carried in Thomas's boot this far, it remains chill to the touch.

Thomas grins and tucks the pen away into a pocket. "Nice little trinket. I'm sure Monitor will be pleased," he mutters, then looks up and about.

A moment later, a familiar red-haired head pokes around the door to look into Thomas' “guest suite.” "Not bad," she comments. "Do you get free room service in here too? Mint on the pillow? Hot and cold running arsenic? Ready to bug out and head upstairs yet, or are you going to write your will with that pen first?"

"Quite. Free food, all the luxuries a noble might like. Pity -- I hate luxuries," Thomas replies with a wry grin. And, without missing a beat, he adds, "One goal done, two to go. Nothing like a bit of excitement to make you feel alive!"

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.