[The hard part seem to be getting people to write about their experiences. We had an 18-20 character battle in which Eremon was captured...and no write ups. Granted I'm no Rigwyn or Mariana, with their flair for dramatic writing either, but I had hoped for more. I an considering closing this thread, while keeping the storyline going...unless anyone has constructive advice on getting comments?]

[Yes...its just gone underground. You may have already mey one of his agents and not known it. As for Lace, I don't have him. ]

The man sat staring at his steepled fingers, seething over recent events. They would say he'd moved too fast and require him to slow down his research. But he wasn't getting any younger !! Older, in fact; every day a little older. Some days, like today, he swore he aged several days' worth.

First, the woman who styled herself Warden of the Dark Empire had been betrayed by her own Captain, which was itself a matter of little concern, but in her frantic attempts to defend herself before the gathered crowd she had loudly and publicly declared that she was seeking to betray "the evil necromancer". Misguided as her assumptions were, she obviously referred to himself.

Next, his best agent had been revealed in taking the woman, Evirea. Worse, when he probed her mind he found that while it seemed a jade-mine of information, it was too brittle. Too brittle and damaged for him to extract the information he needed without killing her thanks to some second-rate fool who'd apparently set out to destroy her in the clumsiest use of azure magic conceivable. And what was supposed to have been a quick side-trip for the woman, unnoticed by anyone, turned into a full scale manhunt. No fewer than five messenger-beasts had come looking for her in the time it took him to get to the site where she was held. Five! And if his information was correct there had been a good dozen or more searching for her.

Finally, when the crowd had located her they'd immediately removed and destroyed both his ring and amulet almost as if they knew about them! That fact made him uneasy indeed...how could they possibly have known ?

Of course he had gotten one inestimably valuable clue from her; that alone had been worth compromising his agent. And he could acquire more agents. That one piece of information would be worth a great deal to the Council. A great deal.

He could also commend the council for having sent him such a capable 'adviser'. He hated that woman sometimes. She was companionable enough, true, but she had the annoying habit of being right entirely too often. Still, if he could focus them on what had been gained he could avoid their order to slow down. This research must be completed!

Having decided on a course of action he smoothed out the parchment before him --how he wished they'd stop being such INFANTS about mind-speaking-- took up his quill pen and began to write.

[oh, sorry didn't realize that would be a bad thing. There modified it to prevent further spread.]

You are very versatile in your drawing and painting styles. Keep the great sketches coming!

[ I will be on this evening GMT+8 as Haanzz. Please forgive the rough spots - it's my first attempt to run such a thing]

A groffel pecks lightly at Lace's ankle. The note it carries says "There is much more at stake than art here. You will meet me at the rock next to the Howling Well where you will prove yourself a willing agent or you will become one of my soldiers"

The quill scratches quietly against the parchment, azure light throwing faint shadows across the artfully penned letters.

"...as I said, it took weeks for anyone to stumble upon the homesteads and then they merely assumed them abandoned. Your fears are groundless. I did lose one soldier in taking the third shipment - perhaps that subject can be returned as it would prove most useful in securing more raw materials."

The man nods with satisfaction, scribbles his signature then seals the scroll in its tube. He attaches it to the collar around his groffel's neck and sends the creature fluttering away with a wave of his hand.