Cela led the charge at a brisk pace, hoping to help Thistle. Skye, Marigold, & Simon followed her lead. The Warlock demonstrated foresight by invigorating himself with necromantic energy. Cela dodged the tree limbs that flailed at her companions, but seemed to miss Marigold.

The Tabaxi arrived first, stopping short of a body. She needed a few seconds to realize it was indeed Thistle. Four gashes ran from his forehead to his pelvis. His right eye spilled onto his cheek in a gelatinous mess. Cela heard Skye, Marigold, & Simon arrive behind her. They saw the slashes that ran across his body, viciously tearing the Druid open from collarbone to hip. “THISTLE!” Marigold sobbed as she fell ro her knees beside him.

Unfortunately, the raw stench of perforated bowels and meatier things hit her, and she vomited in the grass. The stench hit them all hard, especially Cela. Thistle’s remaining eye was wide open in an eternal stare. His right cheek flapped loose, exposing his teeth. His right arm was nearly severed, the bone glistening on the joint. Thistle had died horribly.

However, they didn’t see anyone else there!

"Be careful.  Whatever killed him did it instantly."

Cela looks around for any sign of the attacker.

17:40, Today: Cela rolled 16 using 1d20+5.  perception.

Simon moves closer to the body of Thistle, gagging at the foul odour.

"Skye! Can you find any tracks that might lead us to the beast that did this?"

The warlock looks over the corpse, careful not to further offend Marigold, looking for anything that might identify the creature capable of rending a man with one swipe.

---

Simon rolled 20 for an Investigation check.

Skye looked at the corpse with a stoic expression. She was a hunter, and  had seen death before, but even for her the death was violent and no doubt painful. She looked around for tracks. the area was difficult to read, and with the death, her focus was skewed.

She looked around, drawing her sword. "Stay on your toes, and keep your eyes open."

---

OOC: Skye Keenshadow rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  nature check.

Skye Keenshadow rolled 11 using 1d20+2.  Perception/investigation check.

Skye couldn’t see any trace of their enemy, but she still knew that they were near! Watching them, perhaps wearing for a moment to attack. However, Cela’s feline senses could detect stimuli that not even their Ranger would pick up without mystically tapping into “The Flow” of Nature. The Tabaxi couldn’t see their quarry, but she could smell them within less than fifty feet of her hunting party!

Simon racked his brain for knowledge of any threats capable of such carnage, but equally adept at hiding afterward. The dead Druid notwithstanding, the perimeter looked otherwise undisturbed. He considered schools of training that could impart the necessary spells and skills. Druids could pass without trace, and shapeshift into even more fearsome forms than a dog or wolf. Moonsong, the Druid they’d left back on the ship, could turn herself into a bear. However, they’d effectively ruled out a Druid as their primary threat.

When Simon remembered the night he’d overcome the Deathlock, he recalled that someone or something impersonated Jason Redfern/Blackthorn. Simon’s eyes snapped wide open as he remembered a monster capable of everything they’d encountered! Impersonating others, invisibility, magical knowledge, and raw physical power. Not an Ogre Mage, but something similar!

Before Simon could share his theory, an old crone shimmered into view. They only had time to see a wrinkled old woman with straggly gray hair in a raggedy black dress or robe. “You naughty children have spoiled my fun for the last time!” Her voice sounded sweet with a strong undertone of Malice. Overhead, the clouds grew darker and thunder rumbled ominously. The crone pointed at them with a gnarled hand and muttered a phrase that sounded vaguely Elven, but not. The sky flared as lightning cracked, hurtling down toward our heroes!

OOC:

I need a Dexterity save!



This message was last edited by the GM at 19:36, Wed 29 Sept 2021.

15:49, Today: Cela rolled 14 using 1d20+5.  dex save.

Skye Keenshadow rolled 23 using 1d20+5 - Dex save

"Granny Grim, I presume..."

Simon's speech is cut off as he leaps away from the lightning strike.

---

Simon rolled 11 using 1d20+3 for DEX save.

This does not look good!

A lightning bolt struck Simon, blasting him off his feet! Smoke curled from his chest and ears as he lay motionless on the ground. A second bolt struck near the women. Cela felt her fur singe as she evaded the worst of the bolt, but even that near miss nearly fried her! Skye rolled out of the way, but also suffered serious injury from the lightning she’d dodged. The crone cackled in delight over the harm she inflicted on the three heroes.




OOC:

21:29, Wed 29 Sept: Secret Roll: The Dungeonmaster rolled 30 using 5d10.  Lightning damage .

Simon, that’s 30 damage.

Cela and Skye made their saves, but still take 15 damage.

Skye felt the ozone as the crone began her spell, her face dropping into a look of worry. The halfling, however was quick on her feet and dove as the bolt struck the ground, rolling closer to Simon. Even with the dive, the arc of electricity hit some of the sword in her hand, feeling the muscles tighten as the electricity coursed through her body.

The hit hurt her, but she shook it off even as she knelt near simon, placing the hand with the crossbow on her arm on the man, she felt the nature magic channeling through her into him. But even with the nature energy, the tightness of her muscles hampered her concentration, healing him minimally

She sneers at the woman. "Wow....you've been beaten by that ugly stick a hell of a lot, haven't ya?"

---

<OOC: Make my way to simon and cast cure wounds.

Skye Keenshadow rolled 3 using 1d8+2.  cure wounds.

DAMNIT....Natural 1>
This message was last edited by the player at 03:39, Thu 30 Sept 2021.

That lightning really hurt even with a graze and leaves Cela smelling burnt fur.

She can't start the fight severely injured, so she drinks the potion of greater healing the captain gave her way back on the ship.


14:54, Today: Cela rolled 16 using 4d4+4.
HP 23/23

You ok over there Simon?

Simon feels the muscles in his body still vibrating from the lightning bolt when his eyes open, and he focuses to see Skye crouching protectively over him. He notices she is not looking at him.


Simon forces himself to sit up, to see the black-robed crone still standing.

[Midani: "You miserable bitch]...Flagro...her" he says, pointing to the crone, "...not you Skye."

As he speaks, the crone is enveloped in blue-tinged flames.

Simon gets to his feet and staggers to try to get some cover behind a tree, muttering "Falsa Vita".

---

Yowza! Unconscious in one hit! Not that far from dead-dead either!
Simon rolled 16 using 1d20 for CON check.
Simon rolled 21 using 3d10 for Hellish Rebuke: fire - half on DEX save.
If allowed, he will also cast False Life as an action: Simon rolled 7 using 1d4+4.  Fiendish Vigour - Temp Hit Points.
Move up to 15 feet to find cover; half movement used to stand from prone.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:44, Fri 01 Oct 2021.

Desperately, Skye rushed over toward Simon and nervously invoked her brand of healing magic. The Ranger drew power from the lush swamp soil, directing the power into her friend and keeping Simon from making that final voyage to  the Misty Lands. He coughed, sputtered, and spat defiantly in Death’s eye! For the moment, Simon would live!

Nearby, Cela quickly quaffed a healing potion. She felt her skin cool, the blisters falling away and revealing golden fur. The stink of singed fur abated as Cela was healed to nearly perfect health. When she faced their enemy, the old crone clucked her tongue in disapproval at Skye’s insult.

 “I’m quite proud of my warts, you furry-footed rodent!”  Then, Simon muttered a spell in the tongue of the Eastern desert lands. Hellfire sprouted around the old woman, who shrieked, then waved her hand with a flourish. The fires ebbed, but she cursed at the pain.

The old woman raised scabrous and warred arms toward the sky. “You brats have quite the mouths on you! Another score of lightning should teach you to respect your elders!”

OOC:

Time for another DEX save!

Simon desperately tries to dodge away from the lightning bolt, but his weakened muscles betray him.

---

Simon rolled 9 using 1d20+3 for DEX save.

This could very well be dead-dead!

23:08, Today: Cela rolled 17 using 1d20+5.  dex.

<OOC: Skye Keenshadow rolled 25 using 1d20+5.  dex save.


Nice tie for a natural 20! Hope it helps though>

Lightning struck the spot where Skye huddled with Simon, charring the Warlock with a second strike! Skye dove and tucked herself into a flawless roll just like she’d seen Cela perform. Cela leapt from the spot and avoided the worst of the lighting. Unfortunately, the heat still seared them both even after a near miss.

The crone’s lips drew back in a snaggle-toothed grin. “Yes, dance for me, my pretties!”

Simon wasn’t breathing.

OOC:

I rolled a 20 that time for lightning damage.

10 points for Skye & Cela, 20 points for Simon.

Skye again felt the ozone build and swore in her native togune as she tumbled back, again the arc of electricity hitting her metal, cascading over her body. As she reached her feet she again knelt at the warlocks side, again feeling the life in the earth around her she pulled it from around and channeled it into him.

She knew that mentally she was tired - she would not have the focus to do that again. “Simon…GET YOUR ASS UP AND KICK THIS CRONE’S TEETH IN!”

---

<OOC: action - cast cure wounds in Simon

Skye Keenshadow rolled 9 using 1d8+2.  Cure wounds.

…better >

The second lightning bolt slammed into Simon, he felt his muscles tensing on their own, and his whole being felt as if he had fire running through millions of paths through his body at the same time.

~Damn it to hell...I'm falling unconscious again.~

It felt like he was simply falling asleep. That was different from the last bolt's effect. He tried to shake the sleep away, but he could not. He felt an combination of panic, mixed with curiosity, he have never fallen into a dream where he was aware that it was a dream.

Perhaps it was the crone's magic or maybe a leftover effect from the Devil's Dreambloom; he thought of Cela and Skye, were they in danger?

But the dream demanded his focus and his friends fell away from his thoughts.

He was moving, through a void, completely black, but, he could see himself.

~Typical dream,~ he thought, ~No logic. Why can I not feel the ground under my feet; yet I am walking. I wonder to where?~

How long he was moving in the strange darkness, he could not say. It seemed to be a very long time, ~But,~ he thought, ~what is time in a dream? I might experience days or weeks or years, and yet I wake up to find that only a night has passed.~

The warlock pondered this for for some time, before noticing that an orangey-red light was visible in the distance. There was no frame of reference to estimate the distance but this time, logic seemed to hold, as the light grew in size and intensity as he got closer. ~It looks like it might be a torch, or perhaps a campfire, but fire no doubt.~

Then a thought occurred that frightened the warlock, could it be Hazim summoning him? The thought had barely crossed his conscious (or unconscious) mind when suddenly he stopped moving and was suddenly at the fire (he innately knew it was the fire he had been watching). It was no torch or campfire. It was wall of fire, as high and as wide as he could see.

The warlock shuddered, knowing that it was Hazim.

And then he passed though that vast wall of flame. It burned him intensely and he screamed in agony. He looked down knowing that his body was about to disappear to ash, and he would be no more. But he was not burning, even his wooden staff was not alight, but the pain he felt was real, and he screamed some more before everything went black again.

"Wake up, maggot."

Simon's eyes fluttered open. ~How was it possible to be alive after that pain?~

As he regained consciousness (not certain, but feeling that this was no dream) he slowly looked around. He was sitting on a floor, made of black obsidian. The room he was in, was large, several dozen paces in length and width, and the ceiling was easily the height of ten men or more. To his left was a large arched window, completely open with no glass or shutters. Simon thought he glimpsed massive buildings with great gold domes and spires, ~It looks like home...~ his thought was cut short, when he saw the other occupant in the room.

"Hazim! It was you that brought me here. What is this about? We have a bargain, you..."

"Silence, son of a whore!" The efreet cut off the warlock, and the anger in his eyes brooked no argument.

"Do not be so foolish to think that one as pathetic and useless as you, has any rights with respect to me!"

Simon's ego kicked in, "I freed you, you were bound to grant me three wishes and those wishes cannot be taken back, even by you!

In the library I read a great many scrolls and books that spoke of the power of genies and yet how they were bound to the rule of granting wishes if they were freed..."

"I said SILENCE!" The efreet grabbed the warlock like a child picking up a rag doll, and pushed his finger into Simon's mouth.

The man tried to scream but the efreet's hand blocked his mouth and it was all he could do to breath while his mouth burned. "Now you will be quiet." Simon coughed out the ash that used to be his tongue, before welcoming the faint that embraced him.

Simon woke. How much time had passed he did not know, and it was inconsequential. His hand went to his mouth, praying to the gods that it was all a dream. But it was no dream his tongue was just a stub in his mouth. He screamed, but it sounded so inhuman that he stopped.

Then he realised that he was no longer in the black room.

He was sitting on the floor (again) this time it was stone, not tiles, yet it was as smooth as marble. As he took in his surroundings, it seemed that the floor and walls, and the ceiling were all one piece of stone; as if he was sitting inside a massive, hollow boulder. Then he heard the voices and he shakily got to his feet.

He saw Hazim sitting on a stone chair at a large stone table (both of which appeared to grow out of the floor) across from a blue-skinned being. ~Another genie!~ Simon realised but not of fire, like the red-skinned Hazim. This one was sitting on a stone chair too, but he seemed to be floating above it.

"Hazim!" the warlock screamed at the efreet, but all that came out was a guttural noise.

"The filthy dog of a human is awake", Hazim said to his blue-skinned counterpart.

"Why can he no longer speak? Hazim? What have you done?"

"I removed his impertinent tongue, because he disobeyed my command to be silent."

"By all things holy, you are truly repugnant."

Hazim's eyes flashed with anger, and he looked to push away from the table to stand. But the table did not move, nor did the chair and the efreet fell back into his chair.

A deep rumble of a laugh emerged from the back of the room, where Simon realised, stood a third genie! This one was dark-brown like the stone of which the room was built.

Hazim's eyes narrowed in anger as he looked to the genie at the back of the room, "Asmar, do not mock me, else I will flay you alive and feed you to the crows."

This brought an even louder laugh from the third genie. "Hazim do not threaten me in my home. It is unbecoming of you, and it might raise my ire enough to blow you out like a candle. Your behaviour is without honour. Finish your business with Saraamosh and then depart."

The blue-skinned genie, sat quietly while Hazim finished his tantrum, before speaking again. "Our agreement was for the human to be delivered unharmed, Hazim. And now you tell me you have removed his tongue!"

"I told you he was speaking out of turn! Besides, I am sure that the mighty Saraamosh the Patient will be able to repair this minor damage to the dung worm,"  Hazim said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Saraamosh nodded in agreement, "True enough. But it still does not excuse you from not meeting the terms of the bargain. Nonetheless, I will accept the human as is, in payment of your debt to me. Asmar, you are witness to this transaction between Hazim and myself."

The third genie nodded, "I do bear witness to the transaction."

"Then our busisness is complete. Good bye Hazim. I trust we will not cross paths any time soon."

"If our paths cross Saraamosh, it will in battle!" With that, Hazim slid sideways out of the chair, transformed into a ball of flame and vanished.

"Thank you for the use of your home as neutral ground, Asmar. I apologise for bringing the ill behaviour of Hazim here."

The blue-skinned genie, apparently named Saraamosh turned to look at the human. "And now, Sahm'ian al-Dhib, we will leave Asmar in peace. We need to come to an understanding before you return home."

Saraamosh transformed into a whirlwind into which, Simon is drawn, like a dead leaf in the wind. As he spun, Simon sees the stone walls fade away.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:32, Tue 05 Oct 2021.

Cela rushes in towards the woman.  She can't afford to get hit by lightning again, and being so close together isn't a great idea. 

She extends her clawed hands as she closes the final gap.

12:45, Today: Cela rolled 6 using d20+5.  bonus attack.
12:45, Today: Cela rolled 6 using d20+5.  attack.

Two 1s in a row.

Cela ran with the considerable speed of the Tabaxi, and closed on the evil crone before the woman eve had time to blink! Her claws out, she’d intended a swift strike at her enemy’s throat. Unfortunately, the lightning wreaked havoc on Cela’s nerves. Just as she closed on her target, Cela felt her limbs spasm. She missed on both attacks with a clumsiness that made the Monk curse at herself.

The old woman chuckled as she watched Cela stumble. “Now, Granny loves to play with her children, but playtime is now over!” She whipped out a sprig of belladonna and waved her arms in an arcane manner, leaving a trail of dark violet sparkles as she uttered a spell in Fey. Suddenly, Cela and Skye felt an irresistible exhaustion overtake them. Their limbs felt like sacks of cotton, the strength completely wiped. Although they fought to keep their eyes open, drowsiness overcame them both.

Cela and Skye blinked at “Granny”. Blackness. They opened their eyes two more times, and their foe stood over Simon, who’d been too ravaged by the lightning to even have a chance against the Sleep spell. “Enjoy your naps, dearies. Granny Grim has a special treat awaiting you when you wake up!”

OOC:

After the lightning, your combined Hit Dice should still be less than 42.

The Dungeonmaster rolled 42 using 7d8.  Sleep spell.



IC2:

Granny Grim picked Simon up with the ease she’d pick up a sleeping child. She tucked him into a bag that looked too small for a full grown man, but it swallowed him easily. She looked back at the sleeping Cela with a considering expression. “Hmm. Yes. I think you would make a lovely pet!” She extended a ringed finger toward the somnolent Cela, muttering a spell that transformed the Tabaxi into a house-cat! “I’ve always wanted a kitten,” she muttered as she leaned over Skye.

However, Gwyll swooped down and scooped up the now-diminutive Cela in his talons! The old witch shrieked. “NO! She’s mine, you foul bird!” The Familiar was too fast, though. He’d already flew off into the swamp. Granny couldn’t chase him and still claim her hostages…

Skye felt the lethargy come over her, her eyes drooping as she drifted off to sleep, fighting it. “Nnoooo….yoouu….bbiit…” She dropped to the ground, asleep.

When he next opened his eyes, Simon found himself lying on a soft bed of pillows. As he sat up, and looked around he quickly realised this was not a bed, it was a cloud floating in the sky!

"Ahh, you are awake, finally. Would you care for tea?" asked the blue genie.

"Yes...please...by the gods, are we truly on a cloud? How does it support us?" It then occurred to the amazed warlock that he was able to speak again. He poked inside his mouth and sure enough, his tongue was no longer missing.

"I suppose you might call it a cloud, as to how it holds us, I do not know. Perhaps, by questioning it the magic will disappear and you will plummet to your death in a moment!" Saraamosh then burst out in a loud boisterous laugh. "I tease you, Sahm'ian."

Simon joins the genie at the low table, and graciously accepts the mug of steaming sweet tea. "Thank you." He takes a sip, savouring the liquid, that reminded him of home.

"But why am I here? What debt did Hazim owe you? And how is it that I am the payment? What does that mean?"

"Well, Sahm'ian, let us work through your questions one at a time. But first, I will introduce myself, I am Saraamosh al-Malik, Emir of the Southern Winds, Noble of the Djinn.

You are here because Hazim the Belligerent, he-who-knows-far-less-than-he believes-he-knows, made a wager with me, and lost.

The details of the wager and the debt owed to me are between Hazin and me. However, since it is obvious, Hazim offered your servitude in place of the original debt, and I accepted.

What that means, Sahm'ian, is that your association with Hazim is over. I am now your patron.

More tea?"

Simon's mouth hung open, as he nodded, holding his cup out.

"My patron? That is not a term that I have heard. Certainly not from Hazim."

Saraamosh burst into a deep laugh. "I'm not at all surprised. In fact, your situation is not typical at all. Most human servants are simply that, servants or slaves. You somehow managed to use your wishes to create a pact of sorts...it is why Hazim despises you more than most of his slaves."

"So, now, I am in servitude to you?"

"To a degree. But unlike Hazim, or efreet in general, we djinn do not treat our servants as slaves. And with your special relationship, I see you as being my agent. Still a servant, but with perhaps more freedom to conduct yourself as you wish until I need you.

Of course, the magicks that Hazim granted you was based in fire and my magic is, of course, based in air. You will find that some of your spells will change and some will be gone and some will be new.

Perhaps we should see?"

For the next several hours Simon explained his spells and cantrips to Saraamosh who then would concentrate for some time, and bit by bit, the warlock found that he had a repertoire of magic similar to before, but different, subtly in some cases and dramatically in others.

The blue genie also took the ring that Hazim had given to Simon and crushed it to dust in his hand. And then from the other hand he handed the human a ring that looked nearly identical.

The lessons in magic lasted until the sky darkened, interrupted only by sumptuous meals and two more tea breaks!

"It is time for you to rest Sahm'ian, we will continue tomorrow." With that the genie vanished, and Simon suddenly felt very tired. Lying down on the cloud, he fell into a deep peaceful sleep, unlike any he had experienced in several years.

Simon awoke the next morning to the smell of food and coffee. As he stood, he saw that a basin of warm water had appeared next to his bed, so he took the opportunity to wash before sitting at the low table and partaking in the delicious food.

"Good morning, Sahm'ian," Saraamosh boomed as he appeared out of thin air.

"Good morning, Saraamosh! More magical lessons today?"

"No, today we will discuss you Sahm'ian. You, your family, and your many transgressions against maintaining your honour."

"But...many transgressions! But..."

The discussion went on for the entire day, once again only interrupted by meals and tea.

Saraamosh appeared to have knowledge of nearly every detail of Simon's entire life. And the genie walked through much of it, taking care to point out the many times that Simon let down his family. He rarely let the warlock interrupt to defend himself, it was as if he wanted the weight of a lifetime's behaviour to weigh on the man.

Eventually, Simon did not even try to speak up. Hearing Saraamosh walk through his teen and young adult years actually had Simon blushing in shame. He knew he had been spoiled, but as the genie recited the many actions or inactions he realised that he truly was callous in his treatment of his family, despite the fact that they wanted only the best for him. His behaviour truly was dishonourable.

When his current companions were discussed Simon once again, looked to defend his behaviour. "I need to keep my old life and my current life separated," he whined.

"You choose to do so," Saraamosh corrected. "Even still, it is possible to politely rule out discussing your past, without disparaging the people that are currently your closest companions. The closest thing you have to friends, Sahm'ian.

They battle beside you, heal your injuries, and help protect you. And you treat them as if they are not to be trusted. You act as would a self-centred, petulant child; wanting always to be the centre of attention; not accepting your companions as equals.

Even your story-telling. Always trying to make people focus on you when there are far more important things happening all around you. So immature, Sahm'ian."

The light in the sky was disappearing when Saraamosh finally, stopped. They sipped their after-dinner tea in silence. And then the genie took his leave for the night.

Simon lay awake for some time, pondering all that the genie had said. His initial anger had turned to shame and then to curiosity. ~Why am I this way? Can I change? When I return home, I will make amends to my family. But can I make amends to my friends?~

The thought floated in his mind before he fell into a deep sleep.

The third morning, Simon woke to find Saraamosh already waiting for him at the table.

"Good morning Sahm'ian. I hope you rested well, despite the deep conversation of yesterday."

"Indeed, Saraamosh. You gave me much to ponder."

"That is good, when you think, you cannot flap your mouth telling innane stories! But, we will see in the coming days if you have truly learned anything from me. It is time you return to your own world. And to help with the problems that bedevil your friends.

I am called "the Patient" because I do not rush blindly into anything, and I always take the time needed to understand things. I hope you will also do this.

I will not haunt your thoughts as Hazim did, rather I will observe, occasionally, from afar. It is up to you to take to heart what I have taught you.

We will meet face-to-face again, Sahm'ian al-Dhib, but it will not be for some time. Take the gifts that I have provided you and make your way, always with an eye on doing the honourable thing. It will reflect on you and your family in the best way."

Saraamosh then gave a nod of his head, and Simon responded with a formal bow.

"Stay well, Sahm'ian al-Dhib."

And then the cloud under Simon's feet dissipated and he fell from the sky.

Screaming as he plummeted, watching the ground rush closer and closer, Simon's mind reeled as he realised that he was going to die.

His life flashed before him, and he did not have the opportunity to curse the blue genie, as he watched his many transgressions flash by. ~I will be more honourable, if given the chance,~ he thought, as he saw that he would die in a swamp.

<OOC: thought I’d do a Simon while I’m unconsious>

Skye floated in the darkness, almost like a dream. She felt warm, comfortable and safe…,something she hadn’t felt in a long time. “You were always one to lounge around girl!” The voice graded her nerves as she opened her eyes.

She was standing in a field, flowers, hills and trees of a place she had not seen in years. The smell of apple blossoms and lavender filled the air as she looked around. She realised she was unarmed and unarmed, in simple leather leggings, boots and tunic. She looked around confused at what was happening. “…what in the hells.” She muttered.

Then the voice again came from behind. “Watch your mouth girl” She turned around to see a male halfling, older than her with short cropped, greying hair, a scar down his left cheek. The man had a hard, almost angry soul as he looked at her. He wore dark grey leather breeches, black boots and a white shirt, sleeveless, showing his toned arms.

Skye’s eyes widened as she looked at him. “YOU!” She gasped, a hint of anger and fear in her voice. This man haunted her dreams, her very childhood, and here he stood in front of her. The halfling sneered as he crossed his arms. “Still the little girl…nothings changed.” The halfling seemed to take pleasure in taunting her.

Skye’s expression hardened as she looked at him, her hands clenching at her side. “Your not here Jandon….you died three years ago.” The man flared with anger yelling at her. “WHAT DID YOU CALL ME!” The halfling roared, causing Skye to flinch, though she held her gaze.

She gritted her teeth as she spoke the next words. “My apologies….father.”

The last word dripped with venom, and the halfling man either didn’t notice or care, as he calmed down with a snort. “You were always a stubborn child - too much like my brother. I eventually beat it out of him too.” Skye looked away with a snarl. She knew what he spoke of….her uncle was beaten by her father until he disappeared, never to be seen again.

She looked at him, a frown on her face. “What are you doing here I’d, man…..your dead!” The halfling looked like he would explode again, but sneered again. “You may be joining me soon enough, daughter. The old woman has allowed me to visit you, an added torment.” Skye sniffed as she looked at him. The man began walking in a wide circle around Skye. “Tell me….how does it feel knowing your never good enough. No family, no friends, no one likes you girl. You were always a disappointment. Your mother was meant to give me a son - how pathetic she gave me this”

Skye clenched her hands, could feel the blood dripping from them. The man stopped and looked at her, a truely evil look. “Hell, your mother was so ashamed that she died giving birth to you.”

Something inside Skye snapped and she screamed, the halfling laughed as everything faded to black. “You killed your own mother, brat!” The wave of darkness flowed closer, and Skye looked at him, a tear in her eye. She clenched her teeth as she spoke. “She died giving birth to me, her only love. She never loved you - she FEARED you. Your the monster, and your gone. Your not even a memory - your just a shadow.”

The male halfling glared as he turned completely black, his eyes red, and vanished like a mist, but his last words came from the air. “This monster will always haunt you, no matter where you run.”

Skye turned around the field, empty now other than her.


…..only her