Endgame

"So you have experience... I'm surprised the one you failed to defat didn't kill you then and there. Dragons, or the ones I've heard tales of, lack mercy."

"You'd be surprised who thinks they can. Most end up in a situation that's less than desirable. ...Not likely. I know of one person who may look like me, but I was under the impression he died a while ago."

1. Sandman is also a chronic drug abuser, but once again, it has no outward effect on him. There's something very very wrong with him you will learn soon. 2. He'll pay his tab. 3. Who said he was going back to Moone? He didn't visit Eubric, he's fled here. He's currently in a cheap motel, probably wondering when he'll get his castle and kingdom back from an ancient dragon.

"Vorpalis is not a creature I'd like to fight without... back-up. I'm merely trying to see those who I may be setting off with. ...You're looking at me oddly. Tell me why that is." Once again, Sandman seemed to have a tendency of phrasing his questions as commands. Still though, there was no malice, anger, concern, anything... Nothing at all, really.

"That would hold true, if not for the fog. It drives people mad. I highly doubt it's because of the fog itself, but people's fear." Sandman notices Karie as she pins something up on the questboard. "I'm under the assumption you are Karie. Chances are likely we are going to have to fell Vorpalis together."

Nope, they're a minority - nearly extinct, in fact.

"There are many. All are ridiculous. Faust knows, but he would not tell me."

Clone. Definitely a clone. Maybe a clone.

Maybe he had too many Moonshine Gumballs.

Sandman removes his helmet. "Like I said. Not much to hide." There is a profound emptiness in the man. His face is contorted into a focused look, but his expression, posture, demeanor, voice... They didn't convey a hint of emotion. He wasn't even drunk... "My wording was unclear. Mermont is the city. And Vorpalis is in control."

"I'm afraid there is not much to know of what lurks behind the mask. Perhaps unmasking wouldn't be a bad idea. It's making drinking a pain." Vindsval realizes that Sandman had amassed two more glasses since he had began talking to him. "I've lived in Moone for about four months. I know the lay of the land well enough, as well as some contacts in it. The main attractions are Mermont, the capital city, the various cathedrals devoted to Ennoc, and Faust's castle. I know at the very least that Vorpalis is currently controlling Mermont and the palace. As for the fog covering the kingdom... You don't want to be outsdide when it's being laid down. You will choke, collapse, and likely be mugged by bandits and marauders. Very unpleasant. Faust is a moon elf, a nearly extinct breed."

"Not from around here, mind you. No. Mercenaries pulled off the street of Moone. I am much the same, though I happen to be a bit harder to access. If you are wondering why I am spending time here, it is because the nearest bar is a five minute walk away. Sandman will do for now."

"I was contacted by the Moone Elf King. I believe his name is Faust. It appears I will be going dragon slaying with Heroes of Heroica - for whatever reason, he felt like he needed more reinforcements. from my understanding, the first group he drafted to fell Vorpalis are currently dead."

The man shrugs, requests a bigger glasss, and slides it over to Vindsval. "A warning. I did not devise this drink with the intention of making it taste good."

"Magic accident, Muradin?"

Terry goes and claims the Ether Lash Wand. He twirls it in it's palm, the wind magic of his sapphire granting it extraordinary speed. "Magus, give the Caliph my thanks for this..."

And thus, the power creep continues.

"I have many weaknesses, but intoxication is not among them." He says, with perfect clarity, before downing another drink.

As if on cue, the man hoists the handcannon up (having finished 3 of his drinks already) and begins polishing it with a rag, noting how filthy it got after dragging it long the hall floor.

"They're probably not even mean or scary anymore, just defensive. That takes the, uh, fun out of it. Besides, if we do go back to squish em... We have the entire Parlor to do again."

"Don't forget the Caliph has promised us a pretty good reward, Calamity..."

Gulp. "Now I'm not sure which alernative I prefer... We wouldn't be fighting through again, would we? It'd take us maybe half an hour to just retrace old ground and stick the keys back... Will the portal home stay open?"

"It involved more alchohol than a munchkin could handle, a pointy hat, fake elf ears, a disgraced king, and a horribly butchered Charisan accent. I'll leave your imagination to fill in the blanks... Speaking of alcohol, is that man in the mask drinking as much as I think he is?"

I groan, recalling a previous incident. "Please, Vindsval, spare her of what happened yesterday..."

A rather tall, rather quiet man toting a rather lethal looking handcannon walks into the Hall, completely unassuming. He goes over to the questboard, and checks the names... Current Sign-Ups For Quest #138: Fade To Black -Throlar Wineghilm (Lord Duvors) -Grimwald Gjinko (Lordofthenoobs) -Flynn Flisperer (Lind Whisperer) -Karie Alderflask-Cour (Kintobor) -Althior Emorith (K-Nut) -Skrall (Waterbrickdown) -Vindsval (Asphalt) -Matthias (Stickfig) -Purperal Bethadiell (PurpearlJellyBlob) "Hmm." With his completely neutral response uttered, he chooses to sit down for a drink. "You have moonshine and Flaming Gumballs." It was a statement, not a question. "Yeah, and?" "Mix them." He recieves his drink - a beverage with enough alcohol to give a horse a hangover - and drinks it through a small slit in his mask, his demanor not even remotely changed by the practical poison he was drinking. Ater a mere minute, he orders yet another...