The Tavern

There was an inn, a bar, a tavern or whatever you might call it. That stood in the lands of Lordaeron. The tavern was called "Bonnie Hill", It was the best place in the land that you could ever get a good times memory at.
The owner of this tavern was named "Morak Thundershield." He was a sorcerer in his time long before the tavern was built but then he traded those days in for a good living in an inn. Morak was only an owner, and was a bartender whenever he felt like it. This story is about a man. This story is about Morak...

"Blimey mate! are ye' sure you wan't another drink?" asked the bartender who had broad shoulders and a fat belly. The bartender's legs were stout, and his arms were brute-like. He wore a tattered shirt that was covered in ale and he wore blue pants with one covered in a quilted patch.
The man the bartender talked to looked quite tall and muscular as well. He wore plated armor that had a cross carved in the middle that also looked to be stained with ale, easily showing that this man was a paladin.

"Lemme' tell you something Loyd! I...I...wan't another drink!...Ale here sir! lot's of i--...." The paladin said as he passed out and fell onto the floor.
"Ah boy, look's like this chap's had too much!" the bartender laughed as he walked to his next customer.
As the bartender walked to the customer who was pounding on the table for more ale, a pandaren brewmaster came stummbling through the inn doors. Dizzily the brewmaster stumbled across the room and had a seat on the chair the paladin had fallen off of.
"Bragh! I wan't your best ale on the menu! Pal!" said the drunk brewmaster, pounding on the table every word he said.
"Aye, and that'll be twelve coins on you my dear good drunken fellow!" said the bartender.
"What! twelve smackers on your brewy? Bragh! I need no twelve coins on your drink!" The brewmaster said dumbly. But the bartender just walked away, to take another order from another drunken customer.
"Hit me with another one of these ol' brew kegs ye' got back ther'," A new customer said, not yet drunk like the others. "And perhaps some of your good Shimmerglaze roasts?"
"That be twenty coins on that order." replied the bartender as he washed a wooden cup with a cloth.
This customer found the price quite satisfying and happily paid the right amount, with also three extra coins along with it. The bartender immidiatly liked the man's generosity and quickly took the coins and yelled out an order into a window behind the counter. Then the bartender walked to his next customer, as the man waited patiently for his meal.



CHAPTER 2
***

"I wish I didn't have to do this damn thing!" a man said who had a black robe on with a dark shaded hood. The hood shaded over the mans face, leaving the light only to reveal his nose down.
"Well that wish shall not come true, unless you wish to truely die as a coward!" replied a man wearing a purple robe with a long white beard. He wore a purple hat as well and carried a sturdy staff made of oak wood, and had a blue gem on the top with wooden wings from the staff next to the gem, supporting it to stay still.
"But why must I do it now? why not a couple years from now, when I'm older?" asked the man in black.
"Because Faladin, there will not be any other chances to kill or even fight off an ogre single handedly!" the man in purple said, seeming irritated.
"Single handedly? But I thought you were going to help me Morak!" Faladin said in a fearful and angry tone. But Morak did not listen. He was busy shuffling through his spell book that he had tied to his waist. Then finally he stopped and studied on one page.
"Ah ha! I've found it!" Morak yelled in a joyful voice, raising his finger.
"Found it? Found what?" Faladin asked confused.
"Why, the spell that should be perfect for you to defeat this mindless beast of course!" Morak laughed. But the ogre they had planned to kill was far too close and heard what Morak had said. Then furiously the ogre roared and charged after the two mages.
"Damnit Morak what's the spell? The damn ogre is approaching!" Faladin said, frightened.
"Okay, it's an offensive spell...uh, just wave your hands in the air and chant out the words: Andu' Falah!" the wizard instructed. Then Faladin ran up top a hill and did as the skilled wizard had instructed him. At first nothing happened, but he then noticed his hands kept waving and then he lost control and they froze like a statue. His hands began to glow blue and volts of lightning swirrled around his hands. And for the ogre's lack of intelligence, it stopped to stare at the glowing of Faladin's hands. And with a great suprise to the ogre, the glowing then stopped and then the mage's hands began to go up in flame, as the glowing turned from blue to red. And before the ogre could dodge; a fireball came bursting forth toward the fat creature, disintigrating it to a hot pile of black steaming ashes.
Faladin was amazed and extremely excited for this was the first time he had ever done such a spell. He wanted to do it again, and again. He wanted to kill off all his hated foes. He wanted...to learn more effective powers of such mass destruction.
"Whoa! That was..." Faladin said, as he paused and starred at the black ashes of his defeated opponent.
"Blood-thirsting, yes I know. That is exactly how I felt, but remember, you must keep control of your powers and use of spells, or else you'll find yourself working in the hands of evil, like the wreched undead!" Morak said walking through the forest. But Faladin took what he said : "you'll find yourself working in the hands of evil!"



CHAPTER 3
***

"Bragh! I need me brewie!" the brewmaster demanded.
"Bloody hell mate! for two things, ye' don't have enough coins, and ye've been drinkin' a bit too much brew and ale!" the bartender argued back.
"Bragh! I'll be back for meh' drink you swine!" the brewmaster said as he dizzily stumbled out of the tavern. But the bartender just nodded his head and went back to the generous man and gave him his well deserved ale and roast.
The bartender walked up and down the counter but no more customers were asking for another keg of ale. Since they had all been knocked out with the so called "Brew's fever" on what the bartender, Dugal, likes to call it.
Dugal walked down the counter, looking for any non-drunken faces that would soon order for a beer or some ale. Yet there was no such thing as a man or whatever race you may please that would not get drunk within ten minutes. Unless if there had been a long, crouded, line of people waiting for their order. Though the bartender knew that the customer would have an eightyfive percent of a chance to order a beer, an ale, a bowl of brew. And because of so many people ordering ale and beer and whatnot, he leaves it all out on the side for him to just swipe right up, that way the lines go quicker and the money comes in faster.
"Poor ol' souls, they ain't wakin' up until two in the afternoon!" Dugal said outloud as he washed a wooden cup with a wet and soapy cloth, "Seem's like they all gonna be late for work."
"Yep...well it saves time fer us!" said a chef who was holding a shimmerglazed roast as if it were a sack of potatoes, "And we'll get to rest too!"
"Ye' got a point ther' , Alkan!" replied Dugal joyfully.
The Chef was fat. He had a broad body, more broad than the bartender, Dugal. The chef wore a white chef hat and a dirty white bib, that had blood on it (most likely to be from the shimmerglazed roast) and some beer and ale stains also.
The face of the chef was fat and blubbery, seemed to frown unwanting to, and had a scar on his cheek. He held a big iron and bloody butcher knife, and he was very big, compared to the doorway between the bar and the kitchen.
"O' course I got a point! I'm holdin' a big cleaver here!" Alkan said, as he waved his "cleaver" to him.
"My my, Alkan, have you been drinkin' up on the brew up there?" asked Dugal.
"Well I only had 'bout six bouls, not so much! not big problem!" Alkan said, easily growing angry.
"Yer' drunk Alkan...I think it's time ye've got to go home!" suggested Dugal. But Alkan just grew more mad and walked away.
"Ah well...Maybe ye' could drink some more ale, Just to get yer' self to sleep." Dugal said as he laughed. Alkan didn't hear what he had said, but Alkan was truely drunk and dizzy. Alkan walked out side, and looked up out into the sky, then started to spin around with his dizziness, despite his drunk status. Dugal found it amuzing and watched Alkan spin around in circles, until Alkan fell with Brew's fever. Alkan was way too heavy for Dugal to carry inside the tavern. So Dugal just watched him lay there for a few moments and then returned to his counter in the bar.



CHAPTER 4
***

"Come on, Faladin! what are you waiting for?" called out Morak.
"Oh uh, I'll be right there!" Faladin called back, taking one last glance at the still smoking ashes of the defeated ogre, and then running towards Morak, who was waiting for him upon a steep grassy hill with his staff supporting himself.
When Faladin caught up to Morak, they both began to walk steadily up the hill. Then Faladin began to speak.
"Morak, will you teach me more spells and powers?" the young mage asked, with an excited expression upon his face.
But the wizard did not respond. Just a look at Faladin, and then back upon the hill on which they climbed. Faladin took it as a no.
"Please, Morak! please!" Faladin begged, hoping for a good answer.
"I am sorry young one, but we must wait to do this tomorrow, or perhaps even longer." Morak replied with an ending sigh.
"But why wait? why not one more spell?" asked Faladin desperatly.
Morak sighed and then stopped.
"Because we must let your mana strength regain! without mana, you will fail to do any spells!" replied the wizard for the last time.
"But I feel full of mana! I've got enough energy for a thousand more spell!" Faladin said with widened eyes.
Morak did not answer. He figured his last reply would prove to be his only needed answer.
"Why can't I do atleast a little spell now?...huh?" asked again, only irritating the wizard even more.
"God damnit, Faladin! You cannot use spells with no mana, you cannot feel your mana's energy until you have succeeded in becoming a true wizard or mage! I can sense your mana energy and I feel it that there is not enough even for the smallest of all spell! now...would you please shut up! and get to climbing the rest of this god forsaken hill!" Morak said with such anger and irritation, making him even more tired than he already was.
Faladin then understood what Morak had explained and had stopped asking questions.
After the two had reached the top of the hill, both had rested upon a wooden stump of an oak tree that had fallen many years ago. Morak easily fell asleep upon the stump and so did Faladin.
But did the ogre's soul sleep easily?



CHAPTER 5
***
Daylight soon came upon the land, and it was work time for most of Lordaeron's people. Alkan woke up, no longer dizzy and drunk, yet very confused. He looked around and then picked himself up and walked back into the Tavern's kitchen. He didn't remember anything past the part where he was drinking his fourth bowl of brew. He didn't remember going to sleep, and didn't remember spinning around.
When he got to the bartender's counter, he saw Dugal laughing at him. Alkan was confused and began to laugh with him, yet not knowing why he started to laugh. Then Dugal walked closer to him and asked, "How was yer' sleep last night?" Dugal said, as he laughed hysterically.
"Why, I don't remember!" Alkan said as he scratched his head in confusion.
"You were drunk! ye' old bafoon! you were twirlin' around outside like a bloody moron!" laughed the bartender.
Alkan felt shy and humiliated and covered his face with his dirty hands in embarrasment.
"Why didn't yeh' thow a bucket O' water on me then!" asked the chef angrily.
"Heh...why, I didn't want to spoil yer' fun!" laughed the bartender again, "You atleast looked like ye' were havin' fun!"
"Damnit boy! thats the fat that be making me smile!" Roared the chef, "Ye' think I be happy out in public spinnin' around like a damned bafoon!"
Dugal laughed at Alkan, knowing that Alkan was soon to tear him limb from limb if he kept laughing.
"Err!...get back teh' work, Dugal! we be expectin' drunk customers soon!" Ordered the chef.
"Ha! we already got one bloody drunk in here!" taunted the bartender.
Alkan roared in fury and charged toward Dugal, who was running away from him, dodging tables and punches from the mighty fat chef. Dugal's speed prove satisfactory and outran the slow and fat mighty man. Though Dugal is quite fat, he had taken agility classes and advanced his endurance and speed. Thank god for those classes, or Alkan would have had torn him apart!
"Ah! forget you!" gasped the chef, "We've got good payin' work to do!"
"Yep." replied the bartender, who was regaining his strength and getting some breath. "Let's call a truce huh?" suggested Dugal, offering his hand.
"Ha! not that easy will me cleaver stand away!" laughed the chef, trying to chop off Dugal's hand, yet failed to do so.
But both went to their posts to begin to take orders from the drunks who were just waking up and to order another keg of ale and then some.

-Craka_J

very well done!

it reminds me of playing on a RP server in WOW. which is nice.

ive never seen someone turn what i thought would be a boring story about a bar that would remind me of past episodes of Cheers but it was nice to read and i love drunk paladins. they aint so perfect now ARE DEY?

lol, thx for the feedback and GOOD comments. Im gonna continue the story now....

just watch out. the grammar whore might come out of no where for you.

but your safe for now. keep up the good work!

Lol, KingGigli, aww you ruined it. :P
Craka_J 123, your a very talented writer and should keep it up. I found no spelling mistakes or grammar errors. Good Job.
~Azhag~

Very well written! I do like how you split it into chapters. Perhaps a tad more detail.

Thanks for even more feedback! keep sendin' your comments!

Im tryin' to continue the story, but my keyboard is totalled at the moment.
Im on another CPU now...

MORE MORE! i really liked it. now more!

Sorry for leaving y'all hangin so long but ideas for the rest of the story werent kickin in. But today they are so w00t for that.

I also made a picture of THE TAVERN (aka bonnie hill) of it's interior. Comment on that if y' like.

letters arnt done, but its 90% done.... :)

Quite some good stuff here. I'm testing out a new grading system, and you should do pretty good on it:

Character Development: 9/10, Humor 4/5, Writing Skill 14/15, Clarity 6/10, Grammar 1/5, Execution 4/5. Thats 37/50, a respectful score (I'm pretty sure it is, I'll be able to see with more results)

Character Development: I think this is the highest score I've given here... very very good. Its not obvious that your developing your characters, but you do it quite well nonetheless, which is the essence of character development. You've got it down.

Humor: Good job here.

Writing Skill: You are a good writer. This story shows it. Keep it up.

Clarity: Mostly lowered because of the grammar.

Grammar: Yeah, well, work on it.

Execution: Grammar lowered this one a little, but it's still quite good.

Overall: Good job. This story was quite fun to read. Keep up the good work :)

well, grammar you must have misunderstood, for how the people talk in the story. EX: havin' a good time are ye'?
havin' is purposly typed instead of having to show accent details in the story. If grammar is bad because of too many ,'s then thats an issue in your grammar grading.

Also, I thank your generous grading and your nice, clean and possitive comments.
You can grade me more if you want, after I post chapt.s 6-10 or whatever.

Expect the story to be posted at probably (I'm not promising} on sunday, monday or tuesday. I'm only up to chapter 7...

Here, I'll bold stuff you should change and italicize stuff you need to add:


There are quite a few anomalies here which I pointed out so you know I'm not just judging you on your quotations (I bolded a few . and ,s that you might not see). Yeah, and don't mind my 1/5 which seems harshly low, I try to be as accurate as possible. After all thats only 4 points off the total score, and I may add other ways to get points later on in the development of the scoring system. So just keep writing :)

Okay, sorry for not posting the story as planned before. But now I've FINALLY gotten up to chapter nine with spare time. Chapter ten will come shortly later also for I am too tired and have lost my wits for now to add on to a good story . . .
I'm very sure (if not, possitive) that I'm going to post the story. I plan to do it in a few mins so hang in there lads and lasses, your all in for a bumpy ride!
lol

-Craka_J

CHAPTER 6
***



After the two woke up to the bright morning sun, they headed down a dirt path. They were silent all the way until they reached a wooden sign on the side of the road that read: "Beware! Dark forest ahead." Morak ignored the warning and went on, along followed by Faladin.

"Where are we goin'?" Faladin asked. Morak looked up at the cloudless sky and finally responded.

"To a special Guild that sits just on the border of Quel' Thalas. It is uncharted on the map, as is the road itself too."
"Uncharted? how?"

"Enchantments and advanced wizardry, meh' boy. A cloaking spell that makes the road and Guild not appear on any map of the world."

"Wow! You think I be good at that sorta' thing too?" Faladin's eyes buldged with excitement.

"Not in a lifetime. You are only a mage, a low class sorcerer, rookie still. Only powerful wizards can cast such a spell."

Morak and Faladin continued walking and continued their conversation. After an hour they were only two miles away from the Guild. Once they got there, Morak took a short look around and had Faladin walk inside the Guild. The Guild was made up of stone and wooden support beams. The windows were stained with dryied blood and there was a dead archer lying on the ground, decapitated. The grass was brown and dirty, most unusual for Quel' Thalas to have, especially in the Summer!

The inside of the Guild was burnt and torn apart, as if thieves and bandits have come to look for something. A couple scorched corpses lay in different areas of the Guild. One was found all bones and black ash, with a bronze axe sitting between the ribs and stuck in the wooden floor the corpse layed on. Another was found with half a head, and not as burnt. The left arm was all bone, the rest was regular and blood stained.

"What happened here?" Faladin asked Morak with an expression of fright.

"I-I-I don't know." Morak looked around and found a muddy footprint just on the porch of the Guild. "It looks like the work of the undead!" Morak exclaimed.

"How do you know?"

"The imprint here is old, and has the mark of hell on it. But the decapitated archer gets me, since undead cannot get such a clean shot. This was definatly done by skeleton warriors."

"But why did they leave weapons their weapons behind, like the axe over there in the man's chest?"

"Not weapons of undead, they used the Guild's own weapons against itself." Morak paused and examined the print some more, then looked outward for more clues. "I think the undead are up to something... I just know it!"







CHAPTER 7
***



Late afternoon, Alkan and Dugal suprisingly have no visitors in their Tavern, save the drunken men from the morning. They sat bored stiff in the bar. Alkan stood outside of the Tavern looking out and around the town. Nobody was found walking about the roads of the little town. Except one man who wore a dark cloak and a hood that came over his face enough to shade almost all of his face. The cloaked man slowly limped into the Tavern and took a seat in the back corner by a small window. Dugal watched the man suspiciously for the man did not order any alcohol or food as all other customers had done when they entered the Tavern.

The man raised his hands, making his sleeves crawl away from his hand and grasp around his wrists. He began to mumble a spell and snapped his fingers. Green and red haze appeared near the man and after the haze fadded, a hot meal was presented on the table. It was fresh enough for Dugal to smell from all the way at his counter.

"Hey! we've ain't got room for non-paying customers!" Alkan shouted towards the man. But the man showed no affection and summond a fork and then began to eat. "He's a man of dark arts is what he is!" Alkan wispered to Dugal.

"Aye, friend, Indeed it's evil!" Dugal replied, leaning towards Alkan.

"You think summoning food and an eating instrument is dark arts magic?" Asked the man with a deep and somehow dark voice. "Well, then you've seen nothing of evil magic!" The man got up from his seat and limped toward the fire place and stood there for a long while. Dugal and Alkan starred at him and had all sorts of thoughts running through their minds. Then suddenly, Alkan lost his temper and threw a barrel at the man. As the barrel flew towards the man, the man stood and acted as if he had no desire to dodge the object.

The barrel stopped in mid-air just in front of the man and gently dropped to the floor. Then the man limped his way towards the exit, and disapeared as he went around the corner.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" asked Dugal widly, "Goin' all off on the customer like that!"

"He wasn't no customer!" Alkan replied throwing up his arms. "Did you see 'im, order anything!"

"Well he might of changed his mind and chose to order more food if you didn't scare him off like that!"

"Bragh! The bastard had his meal! . . ." Alkan said and sat on a barstool.

"But why did ye' do it?" Asked Dugal curiously and agitated.

"Do what?"

"Throw that barrel o' course!"

Alkan didn't know why he threw it. He didn't know why he got irritated by the man in the first place either. "What's come over me?" Alkan thought to himself. He felt as if a great force was making him do the action he had done. Evil lurked his mind. Evil was the only answer and thought in his head.

"It was evil!" Alkan burst out without the intention to speak.

"Evil? . . ." Dugal asked as he got closer up into Alkan's face, "Evil is what's making you do this! Then you have far more issues than I had thought you had before."

What made Alkan speak those words? Alkan believes too that he might have gone crazy. But why? What is the motive to do such proposterous and wild things? The last time he has ever done something crazy was when he had once fought out on the fields of Kaz Modan. God knows only what will happen next.







CHAPTER 8
***

Morak continued to search for more clues and tracks, picking up dirt, grass, twigs, leaves, any source that can reveal what truely had happened to this training guild.

"I don't understand though . . ." Morak said as he starred at muddy boot prints on the shredded grass, "These soldiers were trained very well and knew all there was to know about combat. Something is amis in this air as well, it is . . . very damp and has an unlikely old dead odor to it, most unusual for a summer day in these parts."

"Should we look for survivors?" Asked Faladin, hood on with the dark shadows upon his face.

"No. There is no point to look for the living now, most likely the invaders we sent on an no survivors order."

"What should we do?" Faladin asked as Morak sniffed a piece of debris that he held in his hand, "Where will we go?"

"Aye, a good question for once lad." Morak asked and suddenly paused.

"What is it?" Faladin asked, noticing a shocking and swift transformation on Moraks face.

"More scouts coming this way, perhaps bigger patrol. And by the looks of it, the scouts before might have spotted us!"

"Damnit! What do we do?" Faladin's heart was racing and his head was pounding from the excitement, "Lets go in the guild." Faladin suggested.

"No, don't be foolish boy! the demons will have that structure burning within moments from now!"

"So what should we do?"

"Run and pray me boy, run south to Lordaeron."

"Lordaeron? but why the---" Morak had already gotten up and bolted south with all the speed his old legs could bring him. Quite the fastest Faladin had ever seen any elder at the age of ninety run.

The two hid in a small, muddy trench that was 50 yards away. Morak let himself fall inside the trench, looking as if he had stumbled off a cliff. Faladin, however, neatly crawled into the trench. The trench had an odor of death and the familiar smells of sweaty armpits. Little worms, ants and other insects swarmed the trench in various areas.

Faladin raised his head above the trench just enough to see the guild's porch. Dark shadowy figures began to form from a distance behind the bushy trees and shrubs. Soon enough, the figures were revealed to the young mage; Morak had lied down still as possible, as if he were dead.

The figures were clearly revealed and were horrific looking enough to make Faladin gasp in fear. They were skeletons clad in dark black breastplates, stained with red and brown blood. They wielded dark wooden bows with bowstrings made of human flesh and hair. They wore skullcap helms---Helms that are a bit like a mushroom, but made of iron and with a spike on top.---with a symbol resembling a cracked skull. Morak raised his head to see for himself, he looked hard and good and studied the demonic soldiers closely.

"Well I've got good news for you boy." Whispered the Wizard.

"What is it?" Faladin asked lowering his head back under the trench.

"These foul creatures are not a part of the burning legion or a part of the scourge."

"What are they a part of then?"

"Most likely a new clan. And they seek a good reputation for an early start, I'd need to look them up in the latest scout reports."

"Oh great. A new clan of evil!" Faladin then lost his concerntration and heard a voice in his head saying :

Yes young one. Evil. The one and true prime evil has been unleased! Join us! Join the evil . . . for ultimate power!

And Faladin regained his wits and peered back at the small group, which immidiately turned out to be an on-going army. A large skeleton with burnt boots came closer and closer and closer to Faladin and Morak's position. The two dropped their heads and prayed to the Gods. The exceptionally large skeletal soldier was no less than one yard away from the two's hiding spot when a nearby wreched howl was called by one of the demonic soldiers behind the large one. He stopped and clacked and crackled his jawls as he looked around, as if looking for something or someone. Then the soldier jogged back to the army. Faladin and Morak let their heads raise again, to see the army grow even larger. Many skeleton warriors were standing near the guild. And on the porch stood a dark bearded wizard or perhaps even a necromancer stood with his long black staff and a purple and blood-stained spell book besides him held in his hand. The staff had a fierce dragon model carved on the top and in the mouth of the dragon was a green and dark red gem. The man wore a long brown cloak that was probably made of bears fur.

The man spoke words that was unknown to Faladin, but Morak listened hard.

"Merolious! Redemtus! Soray!" The words were strong and deep and echoed around the forest.

"Hero'nou Dome! Polonos Sertanatan! . . . Mo nerious so deer!" The last words made the undead warriors clap their wicked swords against their shields and made them stomp their feet on the ground, their voices were no more than slight crackles and twisting as their jaws grinded their decayed teeth.

The man raised his dark staff up into the air and slammed it against the porch floor, making a small fire start upon the guild and moments later sent the guild up in a blaze. Morak pulled a map out of his pocket and looked at it.

A path was being formed in between Strathlome and the border of Quel' Thalas. Then the magical path turned to ink, and from ink it turned to dust and ash, easy enough now to simply brush away.

"The guild is destroyed, along with the enchantments cast upon the---" Then an idea struck him, "Enchantments! Of course!"

Morak and Faladin got up and raced as fast as they could and followed the dirt path that they had come from, which seemed to disapear as it had on the map!







CHAPTER 9
***

"Evil boy! I'm tellin' ya' it was evil!" Alkan argued against Dugal.

"Evil eh? well if it wa' evil that made ye' go out o' yer mind then I guess my name is Hurtoise!" Dugal laughed.

"Damned idiot, hurtoise is healing salve ingredient!" Alkan mocked back.

"Yer mind is made o' hurtoise!"

"We'll see who's more hurtoiseier!" Alkan threatened as he pointed his meat cleaver at Dugal. And then as every other fight, Alkan chased Dugal around the Tavern with his cleaver.



Hours later after the two had finished fighting, Customers began to pour in, some already drunk and some not. An wounded footman soldier came stumbling into the Tavern with his arm around his waist, blood stained his forearm and his plated chest. He sat on a barstool and ordered for a pint of ale.

"Ye' sure ye' don't need our help?" Asked the bartender gently.

"Just get away from me! I'll be all right!"

A second footman came into the Tavern and tried to comfort the soldier. But did little to ease his pain.

"Ale is very unusual fer' a human to drink ya' know." Commented the bartender. But the footman only replied with a grunt and a curse against dwarves. The ale was handed to the soldier and he lifted his visor of his helm, making the joints screetch and the blonde horse hair knitted to the top of his helm rustle and wave. The man put the cup to his lips and as he drank, his eyes buldged and the ale poured out of his nose and mouth and cup, and then smashed his head against the table, leaving a bloody dent in the counter.

"Poor selfish 'n' rude bastard." Commented the bartender as he shook his head, "So how'd he get wounded in the first place if ye' don't mind me a askin'?"

"Well . . . It was me, him and another soldier that was sent on a patrolin' mission ya' see an' we were issued to investigate these here woods ya' see an'---" Dugal interupted the soldier with a question.

"Okay! okay! Just get to the point lad!"

"Ah yes, well uh . . . we got lost in these here woods ya' see an' we were shortly ambushed."

"Ah ha. And you were all ambushed by? . . ."

"Huh? Oh, well we ain't that sure really. A buncha' arrows were a flyin' a down on us and us threes got seperated. I ran south o' here ya' see an' I found ol' Danny a runin' towards this inn."

"What about that other lad?"

"Oh him? . . . Havn't heard of him since we've seperated, now we're probably gonna get ourselves another mission in the mornin' to find his dead ass!"

"Well ye' don't know if he's dead yet now do ye'?" chuckled the bartender.

"Of course he's dead! man like him livin' out in rainin' arrows? never!" The soldier got up and left the tavern.

A figure was spotted shortly after the soldier had left. The figure was dark and shaded, and sat in the corner with a large book in front of him. It was the same man as before when Alkan had gone off on the man.

Dugal called Alkan over to take a look.

"Take a look see at this here pain in the arse!" shouted Alkan pointing at the man. The man raised his head and made a grin that only revealed his decaying teeth and seemed to make Alkan's mind rumble with pain.

"Evil!!" the overweight butcher shrieked out into the air as he ran into the kitchen.

"His mind is like a simple and small chew toy for me to play with!" The man mocked, as he raised his hand that apeared to be fleshless. The boney hand pointed at Dugal and once Dugal noticed, he blacked out in an instant.

Mmm-kay the next chapter 10 shall be out soon, Mmm-Kay, so cmon, read up 'n' comment because if this little thread dies, so does the story.