Endgame

"Are you, are you the one orchestrating all of this? Were the Bore Beetles, the juvenile spider, the bats, were they all you? Can you control... anything?"

We'd probably be arrested for the Necropolis equiavalent for human trafficaking.

Amidst all of the craziness, Sorrow scans the various quest pithces, before settling on Quest #137. He writes his name and sits back down, content to watch the events unfold.

Just jam the stuffing back in, done. No fiddly bits like "bones" or "tendons" or "organs" to work with...

Faithfulness musta been left out of the wedding vows. Sorrow's gonna go on 137, kill undead, and then immediately resurrect them for the second time.

"I am King Faust, ruler of Moone." says the Elf, taking great pride in his status. "I can only hope you're correct. No mere man, elf, orc - anybody, really - can dance a dance with dragons, especially one as old as Vorpalis. He was there once Mercution sunk, you know. Damnable coward he was, he fled, refusing to help the people he swore to protect... the fiend."

Finnegan is ehtereal, at least Sorrow at one point succesfully reproduced with someone who consented.

Nope, keep guessing. (Hint: It begins with an H and rhymes with "Barlot".)

I always keep a bottle of brain bleach handy, just in case...

Terry wasn't sure if he should submit to authority. he was never a leader, always a follower... But Keliim was going to place the party in a potentially lethal scenario. With a grunt - more of a whimper, really, he acapitulates he hands over his weapons, backing away slowly. "I hope we're not makin' a mistake, leader. because I tell ya, I'm not gonna be pulling off that ice boar thing again, not without my weapon."

Faust's eyes dart between all of the heroes, bickering, whispering... His grip around his glass tightens and his jaw clenches. "I sincerely HOPE that the actions of your companion are of a temporary ailment, as what is he doing right now is not exactly acceptable. It is the equivalent of painting yourself green and parading around as an orc - disrespectful, to say the very least! I did not come here to recruit racists who would spit on my heritage on my kin as a sick joke. I came here for heroes - heroes who could slay a dragon. And I here whispering of payment in advance, before you even set eyes on the beast, let alone fell it?!"

138 needs sex heroes, Karie is the closest thing that fits! (Actually, a certain sex-related job class will be availible... )

"I see. I don't supose you'd allow me to ask why you have elvish ears plastered to your head, either?"

"Literal. Very literal. A black fog that can easily choke you out if you gulp down too much. ...May I ask where your accent comes from?"

"...Are you quite alright?" The elf shifts away from the capped man, and speaks. "Yes, a dragon saw it fit to remove myself from my kingdom. Him and that vile fog he spreads. Before long, my entire kingdom will be engulfed by it, and all that will be left will be traitors, worshipping their coward of a dragon." The elf seethes, practically boiling with pent up anger at the current situation in Moone.

A man with a cape, crown, and scepter - all of the ingredients needed for a regal air - strides into the Hall, looking agitated. His pale skin betrayed his status as an elf. He goes to the questboard and checks the names on the questboard... The regal elf sighs and takes a seat at the bar, impateintly tapping on the bar to get the attention of the matron. "A bottle of White Devil, if you'd be so kind." "I see you have expensive tastes, hmph. What kind of plce do you think we are? You know how much that'd cost?" The elf mutters something about "the cost of orcs" and "slave trade", but thankfully Schezerade does not hear him. "Fair enough. A bottle of Crystal Sovereign, then." "Did you listen to me the first time, or are ya gonna make me repeat myself?" "Falana wine?" tries the man, desperate for a drink. "Ran out yesterday." "For Ennoc's sake... A bottle of your best, then, woman." "Watch it, or I'll give you a glass of gutter water." The elf sits down and looks at his drink with a look of disgust, churning it cauiously with his straw, before taking an ungrateful sip. He sits silently in his stool, taking the occasional sip of his drink...

Terry shrinks back, and, against his better judgment, keeps yapping - it wasn't too convincing, though, as he was steppng back, curling his shoulders in, trying to be as small of a target for that nasty blood red blade as possible. "Listen, whoever you are - since I'm assumin' all five of you folk are the same mister or missus. This place is screwy enough as is. Either you come clean and tell us why you can't escort us out with our weapons, or we may have to consider some other options. If ya really ha no wicked intentions, no problem in coming clean, right? ...right?"

"Why would you care? You're humans who were dealing with the same monsters and baddies we were, no? ...Unless you're not human at all?" Terry begins to fear a far darker presence in here than a magically talking arachnid.

A stiff wind plays through Heroica Hall. Through the slits in the Mask of Lethauros, Annienal hears the wise words of the ancient, hallowed dragon, speaking to her again at long last. What long forgotten truth would the dragon reveal to the young elf? What knowledge was she about to be blessed with? Annienal clenches her fist in anticipation, and drinks in the words of the Elder Dragon... "YEAH, PAYING UP MAY BE A GOOD IDEA, BEFORE YOU GET CHARGED INTEREST."

Terry looks down at his trembling hands, a thin vein of frostbite now running acorss his palm. He traces his finger down the streak, wondering if it was permanent, still processing the maic he had unleashed. "A few hours ago, I was shootin' bubbles from my hands. Tiny little bursts of soap. Now... What in the world has happened ta me in jus a little while...?" Terry wasn' sure whether to be impressed or scared by the powers he was developing. 'I don't really care if that spider was speaking of its own mind or someone elses, thats the only other remotely human thing we've met since you, Aristune. I'm more inclined to at least talk to it then go trudgin' through th snake pit, because to be honest, I'm not sure if I can do that tpye of trick again. I say we talk to the spider."

"I don't suppose you've ever seen a dragon before, given your... hesitation near Arthur's."

I gulp down my Grand Tonic. "Whooo...! Never felt this much ether in me before... Heck, let's see what I can do with it." Terry expends 7 ether to hopefully freeze the magma core in a huge burst of ice.

"So I was correct..." I say, taking a sip of my drink. "And how long ago was this?"

I cast an ice spell using the opal, aimed at the opening where the magma was pouring out.

"Yes, I'm carrying the mantle of a Necromancer now. I've more or less settled all of my accounts in life. And yes, I was involved in that debacle... We had to fight some one-armed gangsters to get the frog boy back. And speaking of the Ziegfried kids for me... Tell Noel Sorrow says "hi." Karie? I saw her at her wedding last. It was a great ceremony. She got so tipsy that Masson practically had to carry her home, if memory serves... She went off to kill The Regret, and haven't seen her since. I think she's in the fields right about now. Part of me thinks we'll be seeing her with a baby bump when she comes back from the hunting trip." I chuckle.