Fetch Quest #274

[Elijah_Morendale]

Closed to Raziel. All bunnies have been approved via AIM, text messages, phone calls, carrier pigeon, and telepathy.

Despite the altercation he had one day with a psychotic elf, it had been a pleasant two weeks in Scara Brae. During this time, Elijah had taken to spending his time wandering around town, trying to soak in all the sights. All of the activity, the energy, the shops, the taverns... He was impressed with it all. Definitely better than the settlement in Salvar where he spent a major portion of his life.

He had stopped at a ramen stand for lunch. After he paid the owner, he made his way towards a plaza, where there were plenty of benches on which he could rest his weary legs and enjoy his sustenance. As he began shoveling noodles into his mouth, he took a look around. He was surrounded by the noises of merchants bartering with other adventurers, little children playing games outside of homes, and all of the random chatter occurring between the citizens. Being around all of these people made Elijah slightly uncomfortable, but he was slowly becoming used to it.

He finished his lunch, and began the epic quest of finding the proper place to dispose of the bowl when he noticed a bulletin board to the side of the plaza. Curious, he stepped closer so he could read the contents. There were various things tacked onto the wood: Personal ads, babysitting offers, missing pets/persons/what have you, and the occasional "for a good time" note with lipstick smeared all over it. Nothing in particular caught Elijah's eye, until he noticed the words "Help wanted" in bold, black letters.

The note read as follows: Help wanted. Small shop owner looking for a delivery boy. Can work for a single day if you desire to do so, great pay, no questions asked.

"No questions asked", eh? Sounds kind of fishy to me. But hey, money's money. What can I possibly lose?

Elijah made a note of the location of the shop, and decided to hunt this job down. Sure, he had no clue of where this particular shop was, but he was content to wander around the city some more in order to find it.

[Raziel]

The power of flight is quite easy it appear to Raziel. All one needs to do is get a few drinks, pick a fight with someone who appears to hold something valuable, poke around in their pockets while dodging punches, disappointingly find nothing worthwhile, get knocked up side the head with a meaty fist, and somehow stop gravity.

Of course at this certain time Raziel is enjoying his new ability when he spots a Gold Piece on the floor he attempts to grab it but his arm just won’t come down. Maybe I am flapping my arms to fly right now. The next odd sensation is that of a heavy thump on his head, then some more weightlessness and for some reason gravity now takes effect.

Enveloped in soft earth Raziel pushes himself up “Wait…What just happened.” He steals a glance in the direction he just flown from, “Oh right I was thrown out.” He moves his arms up and down and sighs disappointly. “Oh well, I have better places to be,” he yells at the tavern door. And he tapers off to a certain job he overheard in the tavern.

[Elijah_Morendale]

Roughly an hour after Elijah had come across the notice, he found himself in front of the shop. Boy, when they say "small shop", they mean it! What he stood in front of, was in fact, nothing more than a dinky shack with a sign on it saying "Jeremiah's". As far as outward appearances went, it looked like this Jeremiah fellow could use some money. The wooden walls had begun to rot, the hinges on the door were rusted over, and one of the windows had been replaced by a few planks of wood after what may have been a break-in. Yep. Definitely something shady going on here. But, of course, I need the cash... Renting a room down at the inn is starting to kill my wallet!

He adjusted his glasses, took a deep breath, and reached for the door, mentally preparing himself for anything he would encounter once inside. Opening the door took a little bit of effort, but once his eyes adjusted to the lack of light inside the shop, he realized that the outward appearance of this particular establishment was quite deceiving. The walls were lined with purple silk and quite a selection of weaponry, ranging from katanas to daggers, sais to kamas, maces to axes, and a couple staves thrown in for good measure. To his right, Elijah could spot several suits of bronze armor, as well as a glass case full of ornate jewelry. He began to wander around the inside of the store, when he heard a creaky voice come from behind a bead curtain.

"Welcome, young lad! See anything you like?"

Elijah had no choice but to assume that the old fellow was Jeremiah. "Um, no, nothing in particular, I just came here to inquire about the job you posted out in the plaza."

The bead curtain rattled as Jeremiah entered the main room. He was tall and scrawny, dressed completely in fine silk (although his taste in colors was questionable--orange, magenta, and navy blue, anyone?). His features were also thin, his beady, glazed over eyes focusing on his possible employee.

"The delivery boy job? Yes, yes! I was hoping someone would be interested in that!" Through his snow white beard, the old man cracked a grin.

[Raziel]

Almost skipping with unrelenting delight Raziel turned the corner at the lamp post. After this job I can finally pay the fare to Corone and be one step closer to my goal . Edging onward, ignoring the weird looks he got from bystanders who questioned certain things about a grown man humming and skipping down back alleys, he finally found “Jeremiah’s.”

“Funny I don’t recall doing any work for him before,” staring into space for a second “Oh well, first impressions count.” Straighten his pants and unstraighten his bandana Raziel proceed to push the door open with his fingers, but soon the stubborn door turn from a finger push to a simple shoulder charge. Stumbling into the shop he stands up and coughs lightly to break the embarrassment. He quickly eyes the various treasures on the wall, with his finger slowly swimming above them….”Hey!” Raziel’s hands snap to his side as he greets the old man with a healthy smile.

“Ah you must Jeremiah,” as he takes one large step forward fully outstretching his hand for Jeremiah. The old man just eyes it through his bushy white brow, Raziel retracts his hand “Riiiight, well mate your troubles are over with, I, Raziel, am here for your service.” Jeremiah some how manages to cock one of those furry eyebrows. “And just what service is needed lad,” leaning forward over the counter. Leaning equally backwards Raziel cocks his index finger towards the old man, “Your courier service of course.”

Then the old man Jeremiah chuckled “Oh that, it’s already filled by this young lad right here.” Jeremiah uncurls his finger to point towards Elijah still pinned to the wall just narrowly escaping the door. Raziel with a look of disgust merely lets his jaw drop and moan in disgust

[Elijah_Morendale]

All Elijah remembered was hearing several loud bangs on the door next to him, then for some reason, he was pressed up against the wall, the door mere inches from crushing his face. A couple beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead and he attempted to assess the situation. He heard another voice, one that was quite loud and boisterous. He could also hear the old man speaking to this new figure. Elijah decided to poke his head out from behind the door to see who was responsible for his near-injury.

His eyes fell on a tall figure with a dark tan. His clothes were well-worn (putting it mildly), and he had a funny looking bandanna wrapped around his head. Honestly, people, orange isn't the new black. Get with the program! The old man said something to the tall guy, and pointed to Elijah. The figure turned, and apparently wasn't happy with what he saw, given the unimpressed look on his face and the subsequent groan that rolled out of his mouth.

Elijah smiled nervously and gave a small wave with his index and middle fingers (his favorite greeting). "Uh... Hi. Yeah, I already got the job."

Woo boy, this guy doesn't look too happy...

[Raziel]

Why does skipping and humming always lead to bad things?

Slowly creeping out for behind the fully opened door was a mop of black hair with slightly bluish hues that seemed to have a head attached to it. Giving a weak, half cocked smile, Elijah visually introduces himself.

“Right well no offense but let’s leave the important issues to the grown-ups.” Turning back to Jeremiah, “Ok as I was saying I am here to help with your delivery situation.” Finally stepping out from behind the door Elijah decided to interject the facts "Yeah, except I got here first. He already hired me before you decided to break down the door."

Raziel turned on his heels to see his rival in plain sight. Plain sight indeed, denim jacket, denim pants... And people say that I have bad taste.... “Well first that door was stubborn and needed to be taught a lesson. And second you well need to be taught a lesson to respect your elders.” Slowly reaching inside his sleeve he handles his seax.

“Enough, I will not have this in my shop,” Jeremiah bellowed, slamming his fist on the counter. Raziel has a feeling that the old man was wholeheartedly talking about him. “Both of you will go. Ten miles outside the gates due south you will find a little rundown shack on the left side of the path. Your contact is named Bermen, he will explain the rest. Now get out.”

Raziel eager to have the last word turned to Elijah, but he was already out the door. He quickly follows suit blatantly leaving the door open on his way out. Did it get colder in here?

[Elijah_Morendale]

"Grown-ups"? Who the hell does this guy think he is? Elijah had been "adventuring" for the past two years, and if he's survived the harsh realities of the traveling the world on your own, then in his eyes he was well qualified to be a "grown-up". He noticed that the tall figure's hand had moved towards his sleeve, where his weapon was undoubtedly kept, and Elijah felt his own hand move inside his jacket, gripping the hilt of his own dagger. Why does everyone I meet here want to pick a fight with me? First, that psycho-bitch elf woman, and now this guy...

Fortunately, Jeremiah had intervened and prevented any sort of bloodshed. He hit upon the idea of sending both of them to pick up whatever it was he needed. Elijah stuck around long enough to hear their destination, and quietly slipped out of the shop through the front door.

Ten miles south, on the path, run down shack, dude's named Bermen. I think I can remember that. Ten miles is quite a distance, I should probably rent a mount or something, make the trip quicker... Nah, I can't--I don't know how to ride. ...Maybe I should wait for the tall guy. We're supposed to be doing this together, right?

By now, Elijah was almost at the South Gate of Scara Brae. The streets were as busy as ever, he had to go out of his way in order to avoid colliding with any other pedestrians who were out and about that afternoon. Somewhere behind him, someone was shouting. "Hey! Kid! Wait up, will ya'?" Elijah turned to see who was shouting. It was the tall guy from Jeremiahs, his new co-worker.

Elijah stopped in his tracks, allowing the guy to catch up with him. The tall man put his hands on his knees, slightly gasping for breath. Was I really moving that fast? I need to start paying attention...

Then, he spoke. "Look, I know that you're not happy that you have to share the pay with me, but we might as well make the best of it. My name's Elijah." He offered his hand as a gesture of goodwill towards his oddly dressed cohort.

[Raziel]

Damn, this kid is agile. Noticing how smooth and easy Elijah navigates the streets congested with various shops and people, Raziel grew a little jealous.

Just before the South Gate, Raziel noticed Elijah was even further ahead then before. Waving his arms in the air, "Hey! Kid! Wait up, will ya'?" Elijah turned in the direction of Raziel. Finally! He stopped. Sprinting the rest of the distance to Elijah, Raziel doubled over from exhaustion from the power walk from hell. In-between the loud gasps of breath he heard Elijah offer his condolences on their situation and shoot his hand in front of Raziel’s face.

Why not? I guess we are partners now. Standing straight up now, Raziel took the hand and shook it vigorously. “Well friend, I am Raziel Greyus, world-class navigator,” Raziel presented a full brimming smile with his introduction, and then pulled Elijah in close, for a hug.

“This is how partners greet one another,” Raziel chuckled while he was actually checking Elijah’s pockets to see how well armed he is. They separated their awkward embrace, with Elijah dumbstruck at this motley set of a man. With Raziel skipping and humming under South Gate he thought, Only one small dagger! Ha! I can take him….I think.

[Elijah_Morendale]

Elijah stared at his traveling companion, his face torn between a look of disgust and one of confusion. Raziel, who wanted to hurt him not twenty minutes ago, had just hugged him. The embrace creeped him out. His conscience chimed in. Yeah, I definitely wouldn't trust him if I were you--which, of course, I am. Don't show your back to this guy for even one second, unless you want to find something missing... Say, for instance, your money, your dagger, or your life...

For once, Elijah agreed with the voice. He let Raziel catch a small lead as the two traveled through the open Southern gate of Scara Brae.

Stepping through the gate was almost like stepping into a whole new realm. Whereas inside on one side of the wall was a smorgasboard of life, culture, and buildings, what he was looking at now could be summed up in one word: Minimal. For as far as the eye could see, there was farmland. The late afternoon sun gave off a bright orange glow as it set behind a sparse treeline. There was not a soul in sight; all of the farmhands must've been gone to their homes for the night.

Night. Elijah shuddered as he recalled what happened last time he wandered around Scara Brae under the canopy of stars and utter darkness. He cursed the fact that he and Raziel would be making this journey in the same conditions, but perhaps outside of the city was considerably safer than the hoodlums--or certain self-destructive elven-types--contained inside the walls.

After a few seconds of being lost in the change of scenery, he set his sights on the path and task ahead. The navigator was a good forty paces in front of him by now. Look at him, skipping and whistling like a fairy. He must not be very concerned about this job.

"Hey, Raziel! Hold up!" Elijah picked up his pace a little. "I got a question for you. If you're a navigator and everything, then why aren't you at sea right now?"

[Raziel]

Outside the city limits, the farmlands blazed orange with the lingering dusk still clinging to the last of the horizon. A slight breeze billows across the acres of wheat, barley, and rye. Each sway of the stalks seems to send out a ripple of waves across the fields. With the dazzling orange effect and the ebb and flow of the fields, the farmlands seem to be ablaze from some enchanted flame that burns and overwhelms your eyes. The South Gate path cuts harshly through the astounding sight, snaking its way around the small knolls and streams that cultivate the fiery landscape. In the sky, familiar zodiacs wink at Raziel welcoming him back to their world. A pair of nimbus clouds blots out the lower half of the Dragon God constellation, whose pointed beak points directly north. I am following the ass end. Thought Raziel, and then he craned his head back to see his companion taking in the sights as well. He seems a little more relaxed, now that he is out of the crowds

Trying to follow the direction of the wind on the crops was giving Raziel a headache. In one fell swoop Raziel dragged his foot into the ground, digging up loose dirt. Then he grabbed the clump of soil in his right hand, raising his hand to eye level, he let the earth slowly trickle out of his cupped hand. He watched the lighter particles of the soil float along the breeze, until they disappeared into the crops. “Slightly west, we will get the cold from the sea then tonight,” he muttered to himself.

The sun finally gave in to its own weight and dropped out of sight under the horizon. A few clouds to the east are the only objects in the sky that are earthly. The alien suns and the half waning moon, shine a benevolent, pale hue across the once blazing fields. But fortunately there is still enough light for the two adventurers to find their footing.

It was Elijah who shattered the eternal silence. “Hey, Raziel! Hold up!” He stopped in mid-skip with his right knee level with his hip. He bought it down slowly waiting for his partner. When he finally reached Raziel on top of a little knoll Elijah asked "I got a question for you. If you're a navigator and everything, then why aren't you at sea right now?"

The question stabbed at his heart with icy blades. Raziel’s face grew somber as he turned his head westward. “It’s a long story ,friend,” Raziel explained. He smiled and turned his head toward his denim clad associate. “She is none to happy with me; she is making me sleep on the couch for now.” Turning back in the direction of their destination, Raziel smile grew broader. “Come, we must reach Bermen before night gives way to nightmares.”

So the two mix-matched pair continued on their trek to the rundown shanty. Elijah now walking at his normal pace, forced Raziel to take a form of half walking ,half jogging, that felt fully awkward; in order to keep up. A field mouse slowly scampers in front of the duo, mildly acting like a leader; directing them in the proper direction. That is until a hawk took the mouse too far into the sky for the twosome to follow. Weariness was starting to creep in for Raziel

[Elijah_Morendale]

It had gotten dark out. The moon shone through the cloudless sky, giving off enough light for Elijah to be able to tell where the road was heading. He wondered how far him and Raziel have traveled so far... Given our pace, we must've gone at least seven or eight miles...

The trip had been a silent one, save for their footsteps crunching on the gravel road and the occasional cricket chirping or wild animal calling out. The air had gotten chilly as the afternoon sun gave in to the inky blackness of the night, but Elijah didn't mind. He actually enjoyed being a little cold. Feeling far more relaxed now, he clasped his hands behind his head and felt a small smile creep across his face. As the two co-workers continued towards their destination, his thoughts began to wander. He touched on several topics, starting with a personal job evaluation as an adventurer, which jumped into how he'd have to embellish his stories in order to make them interesting when telling them to patrons in a tavern, and soon after the subject wandered to how much he hated said taverns.

Yeah, you're right. Every time you're in one of those forsaken scum pits, nothing ever turns out right.

His happy train of thought had hit a coin on the track and derailed violently. The voice in the back of his head--his conscience, he liked to believe--had been speaking up more frequently as of late. It had started several months ago when Elijah was battling a bout of depression after being separated from his "family" back in Salvar for so long, unable to make new friends on his travels who would stick around for longer than a week or so. He had been pretty good at ignoring the voice, but it was starting to become a little annoying. Perhaps was time for him to see a psychiatrist or an alchemist who'll give him some drugs to suppress the voice.

Fat chance, chief. You need my company, and you know it.

Elijah, irritated that his conscience rejected his own thoughts, spoke up. "Shut up, will you?" His sharpness in his voice blasted through the silence of the night like a cannon.

Raziel's head perked up, turning enough to glance at Elijah. "You talkin' to me?"

Elijah blushed a little, embarrassed at being caught talking to himself. "No."

His traveling companion stared at him for a second longer, then turned forward, dismissing the matter with an apathetic shrug of his shoulders and a soft grunt.

Another hour passed. Gradually, they had been walking into the woods. The oak trees towered over the two like dark omens, the pale moonlight casting untrustworthy shadows every which way. All sorts of dangers could be lurking in the darkness. However, Elijah had other problems, the main one being a small grumbling in his stomach. He was getting hungry. His lunch had lasted him up until this point--he guessed that they were less than a mile from Bermen and their objective. The remainder of this leg of the journey wouldn't pose a problem, but he needed the kind of energy that no amount of sleep could bring to him if he planned on returning to the city of Scara Brae.

"Hey, Raziel. You wouldn't happen to have anything to eat, would you?"

[Raziel]

Trees. Darkness. Cold. Hit rock bottom again.

The travelers were in the midst of one of the many forests that dot the island of Scara Brae. Oak, Yew, and other hardwood trees loom over and try to block out the night time sky. The nocturnal activities were only heard as a murmur over Raziel’s heavy panting. Will this kid slow down. Raziel was starting to get cramps from this half state of walking/jogging. But sure enough Elijah did slow down just in time to argue with himself. Great, he is a loon, wonderful Raziel thought sarcastically.

Another mile has passed when Elijah broke the silence again. “Hey, Raziel. You wouldn't happen to have anything to eat, would you?" Raziel thought for a second. “As a matter of fact mate….I don’t.” Raziel grinned and Elijah slumped. “But kid, if its nourishment you need, its nourishment I have.” With that said, Raziel pulled out his steel hip flask, filled with the very essence of life: Rum. He shove passes the canister to Elijah, making it spin slightly in the air. Eagerly, Elijah spins off the cap and takes a sip of the spiced liquor. When the liquid touched his tongue, Elijah went into a spitting frenzy, licking the back of his wrist to get the taste out. Raziel forgetting his cramps, doubled over with laughter. As Elijah tossed the flask at Raziel’s feet he said “Thanks, but, um no thanks.” As both regain their respective composure, they continue on their way with another awkward silence between them.

Another ten minutes has passed and finally the rundown shanty was in view. Both voyagers feeling rather renewed at the sight of their mark, slowly ran the rest of the way. The shanty sat in a hollowed out grove in-between four giant oak trees. It looked just big enough for someone to turn around in, if they sucked in their gut. I slept in garbage bins bigger then this. Raziel thought. As they both closed in on the shanty, they shared the same thought: Where is the door to this place? This shanty only had four, heart rotted, wooden walls and an equally shabby roof. But at that moment one of the walls swung outward and there stood a pig of a man, wearing nothing but a bed sheet wrapped around his huge girth. “You must be here for the package,” Bermen cocked a greasy eyebrow and threw a leather tote at Elijah. “Bring it back to Jeremiah before sunrise.” And with that said the wall closed shut. Raziel’s jaw was agape at the fact someone that big could fit in something that small. Raziel was snapped out of his dumbfound ness by Elijah yelling for him from the road. Embarrassed, he walked back on the road and continued the way they came. With some energy restored, the travelers started their last half of the journey.

Time to put this plan o’ mine into action. Raziel grinned.

[Elijah_Morendale]

"You got to be kidding me," Elijah whined, shaking his head. "This dude seriously expects us to be back in the city before sunrise?" He was tired, he was hungry; there was no way he'd be able to walk to Scara Brae before morning came. "Screw it. I need to rest. I can't take much more of this." Elijah sat down on the cold, dewy grass at the foot of a tree, propping himself up against it.

Um, not a good idea. I don't exactly trust this guy. What if he tries to snag the package from you while you're off visiting me in dreamland?

Underneath his breath, Elijah said, "Don't make me visit a psychiatrist." The voice stopped. Weary-eyed, he looked up at Raziel. His exhaustion blurred his vision; all he could make out was an unremarkable blob of dark gray. "You might as well rest too. Ten miles is too long of a trip back. So what if they don't get whatever the hell's in here on time? They'll live."

Elijah let loose a five second yawn, and felt his consciousness slip into oblivion. The last thing he remembered seeing was the image of a redheaded woman sitting at a table, a chessboard crafted of ice in front of her. The woman was wearing a grin that would make a cheshire cat green with envy. "What took you so long? My rook is melting."

--*--*--

Not fifty feet away, three figures were concealed by the darkness of the nighttime forest, mulling over the actions they were about to take.

The short, scrawny one could barely contain his excitement. "Look! Look! Hey, Sketch! Look!"

"What is it, Hilden?" Sketch scratched his scruff of a beard, refusing to contain his annoyance at his little partner in crime.

"They have the package! And the denim one looks like he's going to fall asleep! Oooh, this is the perfect opportunity! Come on! Let's grab it!"

Hilden bounded from behind the tree, squealing with glee, until a big, meaty arm appeared from behind another tree, effectively halting his progress towards Elijah and Raziel.

A booming voice came from the direction of the arm. "That's not a good idea, shorty. The other man doesn't look like he's in need of sleep. If you go rushing out there and lay a finger on the package, then surely you'll regret it."

Sketch joined in. "Jarvis is right. We'll wait until they both fall prey to exhaustion before we make our move."

Hilden groaned, expressing his dissatisfaction towards the situation. He slowly slinked his way behind his tree and began playing with his tonfa, eagerly awaiting the time where he'd be able to cause some pain on their targets.

[Raziel]

Stranger things have happen than this. Raziel leaning against a tree, just barely a quarter mile from the dilapidated shanty stared at his partner. The boy looks like he is dead. Elijah, sitting against another tree, has his chin glued to his chest, and arms and legs sprawled out in ways that would have made a yoga master wince. Ten minutes has passed even with the occasional incoherent mumblings escaping Elijah’s mouth, Raziel decided it was time. Slowly walking on his tip-toes, Raziel sneaks behind Elijah’s tree and creeps towards his inert body. Always keeping an eye on Elijah, Raziel bends down and picks up the package. He slowly side steps towards the road always keeping that watchful eye trained on the body. Satisfied he is far enough away, he shoulders the pack and starts to run on the skirts of the road as not to make anymore sound then need be.

Nearing the tree line, Raziel grins to himself. When this is complete, I will have enough money to get things underway. Raziel smug with himself is totally oblivious to the roots protruding from the ground in front of him. “AH!” Raziel smacks the ground, but surprisingly gets up quite quick. “Ouchie,” he rubs his forehead a little and tries to shake off the little birds and stars that are floating around his head.

--*--*--

Sketch’s body tensed up when he saw Raziel face plant the ground. “Where the hell is he?” Sketch whispered to himself, but on cue Jarvis appeared out of the bushes right next to Sketch.

“Hey, wheres the kid?” Sketch asked the looming shadow that just appeared.

“I told him to watch over the denim clad one. To make sure he doesn’t further hinder our plans.” Jarvis whispered never letting his sight stray from Raziel.

Sketch gritted his teeth, “I don’t trust that kid, too insane to be on a mission like this.”

Jarvis nodded. “Look he is dazed,” he motioned to Raziel who is now rubbing his forehead franticly. “Let’s make our move now.” And with that the two thieves bounded out of the forest.

[Elijah_Morendale]

Elijah never considered himself to be empty-headed, but the representation of his subconscious where he drifted off to every night--where the voice in his head took up residence--was rather sparse. There was a light, chilly blue fog floating across the sandy shoreline of an ocean that presumably had no beginning nor end. Several hundred feet down the shore, there was a locked shed with a quarantine sign posted on it's door: His phobias and repressed memories.

Seated a few feet from the water were two figures playing a heated round of chess; Elijah and the red-haired woman. He had learned that she was the voice he was hearing more and more as of late, and she took this particular form every night when he "stopped by for a visit".

The woman ran finger through the blood red bangs that hid the right side of her face from view. "Uh, are you sure you want to do that, chief?" She cracked a grin. "Two moves from now and I'll have you in checkmate. Again."

Completely ignoring her tip, Elijah moved his remaining pawn ahead a space. "Yeah, that's what you said the last fifteen times."

"And I was right those last fifteen times. Seriously, don't make that move."

He leaned back in his chair, speaking defiantly. "Don't give me your pity."

"I'm not. I'm just getting sick of winning."

"Same difference."

The smile disappeared from the woman's face. "Elijah, you might want to wake up."

Elijah let go of his pawn. "Why? I've got you in the crushing grip of defeat!"

"Because if you don't, in two seconds some dude is going to be practicing some hack-job brain surgery on you." Before he could argue back, the redhead reached over the table and pinched him in the arm.

"Ow!" With a small yelp of pain, Elijah woke up from his dream. His eyes met with those of a short man who was leaning over him, a pair of kamas poised to leave a bloody X mark on his face. The figure was cackling with psychotic glee, his foul breath and body odor rising up into Elijah's nostrils.

"See what I told you? This'll learn you to never listen to me!"

He noticed that the guy was standing over his right leg. When all else fails... Elijah swiftly brought his leg up into the man's groin. The man's eyes bugged out, his lips emitted a high-pitched squeal of pain, and his body dropped to the ground. Elijah quickly rose to his feet, wide awake from the surprise one feels when they wake up to face almost certain death. He quickly reached for the bag Bermen had tossed to him, only to realize that it was missing. "Oh, what the hell!" He quickly looked around in the darkness for Raziel, but he too had disappeared.

Quickly putting two and two together, he broke out into a full-speed run down the path, back towards Scara Brae and, he hoped, Raziel and the package that they were supposed to deliver.

Hilden, hands still clutching his crotch, slowly rose to his feet with no less than ten squeaky curse words. He also began to give chase, hobbling down the same dirt path as fast as he possibly could.

[Raziel]

Raziel, holding his hands along side his head, finally regains complete control of his equilibrium. Quickly dusting off his attire, he heard a peculiar sound. The sound started off like a barbaric scream and ended as a meaty fist colliding with Raziel’s temple. Lying on the other side of the road, Raziel gets to his knees and tries to assess the situation. Staggering to his feet Raziel, he eyes a very strange figure, placing his hands inside his sleeves; palming the handles of his seaxes. “Hey, little man! What do you think you’re doing?” Raziel swiftly finds his bearings when he sees the newcomer searching through the package. But at that time he finds out that this little man, is not so little.

“I am here to make sure you do not hinder my progress,” Jarvis answers in a deep demanding tone. Jarvis climbs to his feet and easily stands above Raziel by a good half a yard. The giant of a man slowly clamors towards Raziel with a fist poised to strike. Raziel does not know if it was tactical instinct or just sheer fright, but Jarvis’ fist sailed over his head as his knees buckled. Adrenaline pumping through his arteries, tensing his muscles and dilating his pupils; Raziel saw his moment to strike. With Jarvis outstretched body, Raziel withdrew his seaxes and dug into the flesh of Jarvis’ left knee and ankle. With a deafening yell the giant fell on his hands and knees, favoring his right side a little. Raziel, shocked by his own speed, stood and raised each hand above his head with the seaxes pointing downward. The scream that came out of Raziel was not of vengeance or anger, but of absolute pain. The leather bound across Raziel’s wrists belongs to Sketch’s whip.

“Nice try punk, but this is as far as you get.” Sketch pulling the whip taut watched as his partner tries fruitlessly to stand. Raziel grinning like a mad man proclaims, “You made one big mistake already.” Twisting his body towards Sketch, Raziel uses his seaxes to cut through the leather of the whip. With the whip falling limp on the ground, Raziel turns to finish his deed, but instead finds the same meaty fist swatting his tools away. With his seaxes on the ground Raziel is, yet again, hurdled across the road.

“Ok now I am really pissed off mate!” Reaching inside his sleeves again he pulls out his two steel knives. Handling the blade in-between his index and thumb, Raziel cocks back his right arm and throws the knife blade toward the giant. As the blade sails end over end, crossing the road in under a second, it finds its target; unfortunately it hits handle first and falls to the ground. No matter. It did its job. With Jarvis distracted, Raziel raced across the path and dug his knife deep into the giant’s throat. Feeling a squishy response and hearing a gurgling sound that come out of him, Raziel knew he hit his mark with precision. Well it’s about damn ti…. “Arg!” Sketch, taking the fallen knife, tackles Raziel to the ground and raises his hand to slice his neck. Raziel quickly grabs Sketch’s arm and wrestles for dear life.

Why did I leave Elijah back there? I COULD USE SOME HELP!

[Elijah_Morendale]

Elijah raced through the forest, while many thoughts were doing their own laps inside of his head. What the hell is going on here? Shady shopkeep gives me a job, even shadier dude hands me some package without divulging any useful information about it, my supposed co-worker disappears into the night with said package, and to top it all off, some short dude tries to carve my face clean off my skull! He continued to run down the road back to the city, hoping that he'd happen across Raziel at some point so he could give him the definition of "teamwork".

Elijah heard a bloodcurdling warcry come from behind him. He turned his head to see the source of the noise, only to find that Hilden was running after him--and gaining. "I'm gonna' kill you dead! Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead! Gyaaaaaah!"

The voice inside of his head decided that this was one of those rare occasions that she would actually suggest something helpful. "You know, all you got to do is craft something with your ice ability thing, then throw it at his knees or something. With a bit of luck, you'll trip him and regain some ground."

"That ain't such a bad idea," he replied quietly, panting in between words. After several seconds, he had formed three small ice daggers, one in between each of his fingers. With a small hop, he turned 180 degrees in mid-air, immediately flinging the icicles at his minuscule pursuer. Elijah didn't bother aiming, but it didn't matter: While two of the kunais missed their target, the third one found it's way through Hilden's eye socket. Hilden immediately fell to the ground, rolling around and clutching his face.

"Yes! Excellent shot! Although, I do remember saying knees, not face... But there's something about popping an eyeball that just screams 'awesome'!"

"Shut up!" Elijah hit the ground running backwards, nearly tripping. He swiftly turned forward, slowing down ever-so-slightly. He was beginning feel tired--the lack of sleep, food, and crafting ice had taken it's toll. As Hilden continued to cry out in excruciating pain behind him, Elijah made his way down the path.

Several minutes later, his pace slowed to a jog. Elijah couldn't hear Hilden's screaming any more. Maybe that short bastard finally gave up. As he continued down the moonlit path, he could hear a new kind of noise ahead. It was hard to make out, but it remotely sounded like two grown men engaged in a life or death struggle over something. As he drew to a distance of forty feet away, he could make out the features of one of the men--Raziel. A dead man and the leather satchel which contained whatever the hell it was they were supposed to deliver laid in the field nearby.

"Trouble seems to have your number lately, don't it, chief?" The voice giggled. "It looks like karma caught up with your buddy over there. That'll teach him to try and cross us, eh?" Elijah began crafting a small ball of ice, walking closer to the two men. With a twinge of disgust, the voice spoke again. "Oh, wait, you mean you're going to save his ass after what he tried to pull?"

"Somebody's gotta'," Elijah muttered. He baseball-pitched the chunk of ice, which shattered against the ribcage of the man who held a dagger to Raziel's throat.

[Raziel]

Two minutes ago.
Exhaustion has taken its toll on Raziel. For seven minutes he has been battling Sketch for his life. And to show for his heroic efforts, he now has both of his legs trapped, along with his left hand, under Sketch’s knees. So only with his right hand, he has been fending off his assailant’s constant determination to see the inside of his throat. But with his waning strength he feels the blade inch closer to his life. “Don’t worry it will all be over with soon,” Sketch laughed manically, also feeling Raziel’s strength leaving. The blade gleamed malevolently in the moonlight, its cold edge steadily progressing to its former owner’s lifeline. Raziel could feel the coldness of the blade when it touched it skin, but unfortunately this touch of death did not give him the strength to win.

A scream echoed out across the open farmland, and became ghastly distorted when it bounced off the trees. Raziel felt cold, his body no longer pinned down by his corporal shell, he felt simply free; but above all he was really cold. He felt a wetness creeping towards his mouth; eagerly he accepts it and soon starts to choke on a small chuck of ice. Raziel shot straight up in sitting position spitting out the foreign object that was almost lodged in his throat. “What the hell was that,” brushing off the last remands of the ice ball, Raziel notices his throat is still intact and Sketch is unconscious on the ground next to him. Looking around he spots Elijah stomping towards him, in quite a huff.

Raziel now standing awkwardly, points down at the unresponsive body of Sketch. “Um, mate? What the hell just happened?”

“Fastball,” Elijah says quickly brushing it away. “I want to know why you fucking left me and took the package we were suppose to deliver together, and then almost get yourself skewered on some freak’s knife,” Elijah says in one breath.

“Well, it’s a long story and I don’t feel like explaining it right now. As for mister baddie, I appreciated the offering of help for disposing him.” Raziel points down towards Sketch’s body to find he has disappeared into the surrounding farmlands. “That slimy little cretin,” Raziel quickly looks around to find the package was still left on the ground, on the other side of the two partners.

“Who the hell was that, and what’s in this package,” Raziel walks over towards the item and holds it up. “We are going to find out what is in it right now.”

[Elijah_Morendale]

"No!" Elijah held his hand out, hoping to freeze Raziel with his non-existent mind powers.

Raziel shot him a blank stare. "And why not? Whoever that fucker was and his friend damn near killed me over this thing!" He began untying the leather straps that held the satchel shut. Sure, Elijah almost met certain doom a few minutes ago, quite possibly for the same reason, but sometimes some questions were better left unanswered. At this point, he didn't care what was inside the bag; he just wanted to finish this job, get his pay, and move on.

"Give me that!" Tired as he was, Elijah broke out into a run, slamming headfirst into Raziel. The tackle had caught him by surprise, but he still kept a solid grip on the leather bag. The two men rolled around on the ground, wrestling for control of the bag until Raziel reached into Elijah's jacket and grabbed his dagger. Unsheathing it, he took a swing at Elijah, who in turn yelped in surprise and let go of the bag, rolling away from the navigator to safety. As he sat up, Elijah could see the bag flying through the air, straps loosened by the dagger slice. Several smaller paper packages sailed out of the open end, spilling a faint white powder everywhere. The bags hit the ground with a soft crunch, the powder slowly pouring out onto the damp grass.

Raziel scoffed, "Great. There goes our pay. Thanks a lot, dick-smack!" He tossed Elijah's dagger at his feet.

"Whoa, are you gonna' take that from him?"

Elijah ignored the voice as he stood up, grabbing his dagger and sliding it back in place inside his jacket. He frowned as he looked at the navigator, but then drew his attention towards the small bundles that were scattered across the ground. "What the hell is in those things, anyways?"

While he was talking, a small bunny approached the piles of fine powder. Elijah pointed at the intruder, and they watched on as the animal began to consume the powder. After a few seconds, the bunny furiously shook its head and began to jump around in circles. Elijah could feel his jaw slack into an O-shape as the bunny alternated between eating large clumps of grass and running around in tight circles while emitting high-pitched squeaks. Then, almost as soon as it began, it stopped. The bunny froze in place and fell over dead.

Elijah stared at the deceased creature in utter disbelief. To nobody in particular, he said, "What... What the hell just happened?"

The voice, however, was able to express her thoughts on the situation in a more coherent manner. "Ha ha ha ha ha ha! That was AWESOME!"

Elijah could feel the sadistic laughter echoing through his mind.

[Raziel]

“We’re going to need a bigger bunny.” As Raziel investigates the former living happy go-lucky bunny in its new cracked out lifeless shell, Elijah steps in to stop the madness.

“No! That…that was not right. What the hell is that stuff?” Edging closer to the package, Elijah stares at the small pile that has formed for the open pouch.

“Cocaine mate. Primo narcotics, normally only the rich could afford these high class drugs. But it seems that the lower echelon of our social structure is dapping in it as well.” Raziel explains as he carefully places the other unopened pouches back into the pack. He picks up the open pouch, and lets the rest of the fine white dust seep out of the cut and float away in the wind. “Well either way we need to head back to Scara Brae and get rid of this stuff,” looking at the Eastern sky, “It will be morning before we even reach the South Gate. I guess we will take a payment penalty for that.”
Raziel collects his blades that have scattered around the path, and the duo continues on their return to the South Gate. Both adventures are wide awake with their senses searching for the next attack, often stopping when one hears a strange noise. Each time the noises were just nocturnal activities that sound like an ambush to over paranoid, sleep deprived and frustrated explorers. After a few miles they both just stopped caring and continued to drag their selves back into town.

The sun just peaked over the tree line and ignited the country side. As they both trudged over the crest of a knoll, they stopped and gazed in wonder at South Gate radiating a warm glow from the sunrise. With renew valor, the partners held their heads high and walked under the gate with a certain swagger in their walk. But, reality fell upon them, and so did the weight of the world return to their shoulders.

Sigh “Listen mate, we need to figure out what we are going to do with troubles,” Raziel nods towards the package that is currently slung on Elijah’s back, since Raziel couldn’t be trusted to carry it. “Now let’s weigh our options carefully.”

[Elijah_Morendale]

Sketch continued walking through the forest, wincing in pain with every step. It had been a good half an hour since he had taken Elijah's ice ball to the ribcage. His right hand clutched his side as he made his way down the path. He believed that the impact had broken a rib or two, but he had other problems to worry about at the moment. He had failed his objective of acquiring the drugs, and for that he would surely face severe consequences. His employer would be none to happy with the news.

A little bit in the distance, he could make out the pained ramblings of Hilden. So, short shit is still alive... Well, for now. Sketch believed that the only way to escape the wrath of his boss was to completely disappear from the face of Althanas, and the only way to do that was eliminate anyone who would have even the slightest clue as to where he was. Seeing as the tall man with the bandanna took care of Jarvis, only Hilden remained. A small grin curled Sketch's lips as he drew what remained of his whip, preparing to strangle his future belated co-worker.

--*--

"Hey! There's a lot of people out and about! He's gonna' grab the bag and disappear into the crowd!"

The voice had taken a liking to making Elijah paranoid for the past few hours, repeatedly reminding him that Raziel had double-crossed him once already, and that it was only a matter of time before he'd try to pull something again. However, Elijah couldn't care less at this point. He was exhausted, hungry, and still in disbelief that they were tricked into doing a drug run. He had no room in his mind for paranoia.

The mornings of Scara Brae seemed to be just as busy as the rest of the day. Multitudes of people were scattered around the dusty cobblestone streets, opening up their shops and discussing their various hangovers and how to get rid of them. As Elijah and Raziel drew closer to Jeremiah's little shop, they stopped. Elijah looked at the navigator with a quizzical look. "What do you mean, options?"

[Raziel]

“What do you mean, options?”

This really sucks. Raziel rubs his temples and wills his exhaustion away. Outside the streets were beginning to come alive with various people peddling their wares. Sigh. Here we go. “Well really option. In case you haven’t realized mate, we are late. The sun has risen, we have missed our deadline, and we are going to be penalized. And besides think about it, this possessions we are transporting is quite expensive. You really think that old man in the shop has enough money left to pay what we should be properly paid?” Raziel’s body tenses with each passing minute, being out in the open with such a hefty prize has left him slighty paranoid. Rubbing his temples even harder, “So I suggest, we take half of the pouches and we sell them ourselves. No middle-man, no explaintions, just more money for the both of us.”

Elijah shouldering the package, throws his hands in front of himself as to stop an oncoming train. “Whoa, whoa, your suggesting to risk ourselves in order to get more money. Just a little reminder, but we have already seen what happens when people do not want to pay for the drugs. And I will not risk myself just for a little more money, when I can get my reward from Jeremaih safely and securely.” Elijah staring downing Raziel, making him feel an inch tall.

Raziel gaining back his composure, “Well, mate…”

“No, this is how it’s going to be.” Elijah reaches inside the package and pulls out half of the pouches. Shouldering the bag again he shoves the pouches into Raziel’s chest. “You take half and do what ever the hell it is you want to do. And I will take my half back to Jeremiah.” Elijah spins on his heels and walks away for a very stunned navigator.

“And what will you tell him about only half the package?” Raziel shouted but Elijah just ignored him and continued on his way.

Raziel quickly stashes the pouches into his sleeves, he scans the quickly filling streets for anyone who might have been watching, but soon realizes everyone could have been watching. Jumpy and paranoid Raziel continues down desolated back alleys and awaits night for a certain bar to open.

Night time has fallen, a very stiff and still exhausted Raziel appers from a cramp doorway with bloodshot eyes and a very pissed off demeanor. He has spent the entire time curled in a ball eyeing everyone who passed by, beliving anyone of them could attack him at any moment. He walked the short distance to an umarked door and knocked three times then kicked it. A slit in the door opened around eye level. "What's the password?" A pair of eyes stared back at Raziel's somber face. "Open up this damn door, before I shoot you in your eye," Raziel showed no expression as he threaten the doorman. The dark eyes of the doorman peered at the navigator, as if they were sizing up Raziel's threat. Then the sound of multiple locks being turned brought Raziel out of his sullen state. As Raziel stepped into the unmarked bar, a deep laugh was heard behind him. "I hope you don't get into to much trouble tonight Raziel," the doorman slapped him on his back almost knocking him off his feet. Raziel gave a weak smile and quickly scampered to a dark recess of the bar. He sat down in the shadows and scanned the area looking for his buyer. A serving wench came over to get Raziel's order.

"What can I get for you tonight hun?" She gave a sweet wink.

"Nothing, but I need to you find Wal and get him over here." Raziel said never looking up at her.

The wench, weary to disturb Wal walks behind the bar and into the backroom. A minute later, an ample, tattooed, wall of a man found his self on the opposite side of a battle beaten navigator.

Wal giving a heart warming smile,"Raz I should kill you for the shit you pulled last time you were here, what the hell do you want?"

Raziel quickly reaches into his sleeve and products one of the pouches and slides it across the table. "I have six of them, I want them all gone. I figured you are the best man for this sort of thing mate." Raziel stared at Wal as he examed the pouch.

Wal laughed long and deep. "I will take five of them, and you will only get half of the price."

"What!? No all six, I don't care about the price but you take all six."

"Raz you are not in the position to argue, I am the only one who will take these and I only want five." Wal's warmth left his eyes and stared at Raziel giving him cold chills down his spine.

Raziel gritted his teeth, "Fine, give me the money now."

Wal slid a small leather bag filled with gold to Raziel and left the table pocketing five small pouches filled with the deadly white substance. Raziel snatched the bag and bolted out the door. I need to get out of Scara Brae tonight. The last traces of Raziel in Scara Brae was his foot steps echoing off the building as he ran towards the harbor.

((Spoils: One pouch containing 4oz of cocaine.))

[Elijah_Morendale]

Raziel's words echoed through Elijah's head as he made his way back to Jeremiah's store. "What's-his-nuts was right, you know. How do you plan on explaining the missing drugs to that crusty old geezer?"

Elijah quickly ducked into an alleyway where he could be alone. He was in no mood to put up with the voice's increasingly persistant nagging, and decided that it was high time for a heart to mind. When he was sure that he was out of sight and hearing range of the bustling morning crowds of Scara Brae, he threw the six pouches of cocaine that were his onto the grimy cobblestones and slowly sat down, propping himself up against a building.

"Why can't you just leave me alone," he cried out, almost breaking down into a sob. The nearly forty hours without sleep--a good portion of that time without food--was beginning to take a toll on him.

"Because," the voice responded with a touch of pity, "If you don't want to get your ass kicked so much, then you should listen to me a bit more."

Elijah let his head roll to the left. However, instead of seeing a stretch of dimly lit, run down alleyway, he could see a familiar-looking redhead sitting next to him. Her hair was slightly messy, her bangs still covering the right side of her face. She still had that same smile crossing her lips; the one that made her look like she was about to commit a thousand murders and get off scot-free.

Elijah muttered to himself, "Great. I'm exhausted, I'm hungry, and now I'm hallucinating." He slightly knocked his head against the building, hoping that the dull pain would clear him of the tricks his mind was playing on him.

The imaginary woman casually looked up at the morning sky, her smile downgrading from maniacal to simply smug. "The way I see it, if you go back to Jeremiah's with only half of what he's looking for, then you're screwed. He'll have some big dudes interrogate you about that navigator guy's whereabouts, which, obviously, you don't know."

Elijah sharply interrupted, "Yes, but if I take this crap and go and sell it to some other schmuck, Jeremiah'll eventually catch on that he won't be receiving his drugs, and chances are he'll put some sort of bounty on my ass. Then I'm screwed that way, too."

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't." The woman let out a high pitched giggle.

Suddenly, Elijah could hear a pair footsteps approaching him. His heart leaped into his throat, his hand almost instinctively reaching for his dagger. No, the old guy wouldn't have anyone out looking for me and Raziel yet... A man slowly made his way around the corner--A very dirty man, at that. His grimy hair crept out from underneath a weathered wool cap in sporadic patterns. His skin was just as dirty, and there were numerous holes of varying sizes dotting his leather vest and pants. There probably would've been holes in his shoes as well, but that would be assuming that the man was lucky enough to own a pair--which he wasn't.

Lazily, the man glared at Elijah, who was still sitting on the ground. "S'cuse me, buddy, you're in my alley. Mind shoving off?"

Elijah glanced warily at the beggar. "Huh? Oh, sorry." He slowly rose to his feet, collecting the six paper pouches of narcotics he dropped minutes ago, shoving them into his jacket's pockets. As he walked past the beggar, he had to hold his breath in--the fetid odor of the unwashed man brought tears to his eyes.

"Hoo, boy! You stink, chief! Go take a fuckin' bath or something!" The imaginary woman fanned the air in front of her imaginary nose as she walked past.

"Shut up, he can't hear you."

The beggar turned around. "Didja' say something?"

Elijah didn't bother to look back. "No. Not to you." He didn't care if the man thought he was crazy, for he had other things to worry about: Like getting rid of the drugs, for instance. Elijah rejoined the traffic flow of life on the main roads, making a final decision as to how to dispose of the drugs.

He returned to the inn to catch up on his sleep--fifteen hours worth. When he woke, he had a light dinner, then spent the rest of the night looking for the seediest, shadiest, grubbiest, roughest, most riff-raff infested tavern in town, hoping that he would find a suitable buyer there.

Spoils: None.

[Skie and Avery]

Story

Continuity: 5 - Decent enough. I liked the references to Help (Un)Wanted, and Raziel gave me enough to get part of the point, though I would have liked a little more elaboration here in the internal dialogue. When the question about his occupation as a navigator came into call, him at least thinking of the circumstances would have been better than just let the answer he gave to Elijah be the end of that.

Setting: 5 - Elijah stayed solid all through this, but Raziel seemed to bounce around here. At first, it was terrible. There was little description and difficult to understand. You picked up in the forest a little, but then in the city it started to peter back out. Try and envision everything as you would think of watching a movie. Props and backgrounds are supremely important, and watching actors move around on a blank screen detracts from the overall experience.

Pacing: 4 - This was definitely something that got stronger as you went farther into the story. At first it dragged a bit. You want to remember that your introduction is not only for placing your character but for really grabbing the reader's attention. Think of each post as a meeting with your reader, and first impressions count for everything.

Character

Dialogue: 4 - What is the deal with Althanas and redheads? =P I liked the banter between Elijah and his.. female... conscious. Considering that and the way he obsesses over people's clothing, I personally think he and Syn just aren't going to get together. But I digress! Most of the dialogue here did nothing for the characters that were speaking, and at times could even just not even be wort having been said.

Action: 5 - Your actions fit your characters, I felt, but there was still something to be desired here. I think it mostly sprang from the fact that Raziel had huge fluxes in his posts, where from one point to the next he could have been two different characters entirely. That, however, shall be mostly confronted in the Writing Style category.

Persona: 4 - It just didn't seem that Raziel stayed on task. From one post to another he was either calm and deliberating or spastic and not exactly the brightest bulb in the marquee. Elijah comes across as a really static character. The internal dialogue was great, but it seems like his conscience is the only real personality in his head.

Writing Style

Mechanics: 3 - Grammar and spelling was absolutely horrid in the first few posts of Raziel's here. You had a blatant disregard for punctuation and tense. Around post ten, suddenly there's a huge difference. I don't know if this is just because you started spell/grammar checking your work or you got a beta reader. When I first saw the difference between posts 8 and 10, I honestly thought the account had changed hands and then suddenly there were the same mistakes in later posts. For example, you seem to have a problem keeping in either past or present tense. Pick one. I've already mentioned the change in character personality as well. While multi-authoring isn't strictly against the rules here, it is frowned upon. The point of Althanas is to improve your writing in a fun way. After taking a good look, I came to the assumption (I could be wrong) that only one or two posts were written by someone else, and that you were trying to mimic that style in later posts. I commend you for the attempt to improve and hope that you continue to do so, but I hope that you no longer use another persons writing to save a crumbling Mechanics score, if indeed that is what happened. Also, if there is anything pertaining to this or any other part of the judging, please feel free to send me a PM or get a hold of me at RestitutionSpork in AIM.

Technique: 3 - Again, there were problems with the sudden style shift in Raziel's account. How can I judge someones technique when I am not completely sure what their technique is? The problems with past and present tense were painful to read, and moving from a minimal postage in terms of description to a sudden flowery post on the fields and sky of Scara Brae was just strange. Welcome, but strange. I really don't know what to say. Elijah, you seemed to have your style pretty solidly built. It could use a bit of refinement, but then again I can think of few people who wouldn't need it.

Clarity: 4 - At one point Raziel asks himself if it got colder in there, which just seemed pretty random. I'm sure it had some sort of metaphorical junk attached to it, like Elijah giving him the cold shoulder, but I didn't get it. References like that need some sort of explanation, no matter how small. It might make perfect sense to you, but your reader can't see all those little connections and perceptions in your head. This is just one example of the confusing things in this thread. It just takes a little effort and slowing down to make sure that what you're typing isn't going to make a person have to go back and reread the last few sentences to figure out what you were talking about.

Wild Card: 2 - Cocaine on Althanas? Ha ha, shame shame boys. This is a PG 13 forum, and I'm happy to see you do the Althanian thing and ignore that fact completely.

Total 39

Elijah_Morendale receives 698 EXP and 150 GP, dropped by the would be attackers and looted off the dead body of the unlucky bandit.

Raziel receives 640 EXP and 50 gold, as well as the requested spoil of 4 oz of cocaine. The following stipulations apply: The drugs are of a low quality and cannot be sold in the Bazaar.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added!