Zonorhc

Nothing is actually stopping you from writing a fanfic about the current GW games. It's not like you're restricted to recounting in-game events. Use your imagination. That's what creative writing is about.

Assuming there's no way to escape, I will take a good-looking woman as well. Doubles as an emergency food source. If there is a possibility of escape, I would take a fully crewed galleon and sail the seven seas, terrorising small coastal towns and acquiring booty as I go.

Can someone please tell me exactly where I said that the lyrics I posted were intended to be "meaningful" rather than just suitably awesome? Oh, that's right. Nowhere. So you people are making an issue out of words that I never uttered, because deep down, you know that Linkin Park could never create the mind-blowingly epic feel in their music that metallists can, either in lyrical content or music. Like I said, lrn2metal.

Yes, because obviously the combat system makes the game.

What are your computer's specs? If they're extremely good, Oblivion. Otherwise, Morrowind.

It has to be Emperor Popatine, unless they want to get the Inquisition angry.

CHAPTER V: SMUGGLER A MINUTE had not even passed since their escape from the swirling maelstrom, and already Larandus was convinced that deep down, hidden under his layers of cool confidence, Xin was insane. There was simply no way that any man of rational thought could do what he did even with such a wondrous machine as the flyer. Once free of the sandstorm, Xin hurled their craft into a dive, pulling out and flying level no more than fifty feet off the ground. Dunes whipped through their vision in a dull blur in the morning sun. Xin was flying approximately eastward, though Larandus knew that Dramaskus must be towards the south, as the complex where he and Taldran had been held was set hard against a mountainside. The two rebel flyers were still hard on their tail, but Xin evaded their gunfire with ease. Their flyer was a dark sliver against the pale light of the morning, underlit by the glowing dunes. On the horizon, Larandus could see the outlines of great pillars of rock rising out of the desert. The Teeth of Heaven, Dramaskan explorer crews called them. They stood out as a landmark in the trackless Elaman, and were used as a navigation point by drystar mining crews and trading caravans heading north alike. The Teeth were miles upon miles of storm-scarred rock rising up hundreds of feet into the sky, and treacherous winds blew through the narrow corridors separating the great pillars. Larandus did not see how Xin expected to fly even this incredible craft through the Teeth. The instrumentation before him, back-lit with green light, was incomprehensible in function, but since the Teeth appeared on the horizon, one panel began to show tiny dots of light ahead. Larandus assumed that the two dots following them were the rebel craft. Xin only glanced at the screen occasionally, preferring, it seemed, to fly by sight as he headed straight into the oncoming beams of light the sun thrust around the Teeth and through the dust kicked up in the wake of their flight. Gunfire tore great holes into the sand below them in snaking rows as the rebel flyers' guns chattered. The roar of the engines were loud in Larandus' ears. He felt wetness on his hands, and realised he had been clenching his fists so tightly that his nails had dug through the skin of his palms. A shot passed close by, and Larandus thought he could almost see how the heat of the slug threw light around the cockpit of the flyer as it streaked past. He barely had time to take a hissing breath of shock before they were into the Teeth. Xin flew like a madman, banking the flyer this way and that, barely avoiding the rocks by inches at times. The grooved pillars around them were washed with the blue light of their roaring engines. More gunfire tore through the rocks around, scoring deep holes into the ancient rock. Xin executed a series of turns with such alarming rapidity that Larandus was completely disoriented. Their pursuers were nowhere to be seen. The surveyor screen showed only a haze of light as the flyer's instruments were confused by the towering pillars of rock all around them. Xin appeared calm. He cut the flyer's thrust and settled them down gently onto the sand. The wind outside was making it swirl all around them, and the downblast of the engines only kicked up even more sand. Larandus could hear his own breathing, hard and heavy as adrenaline pumped through his system. Behind him, he could hear Siel and Dansh also breathing heavily. He was thankful for that, otherwise they would have heard his heart pounding in his chest. Taldran was still unconscious when he turned around to check on the passenger cabin. Only he and Xin showed any signs of calm. 'What now?' he asked the half-elf as he turned around again to look out of the cockpit. 'You've lost them, but we don't know where we are, and they might just wait for us to come out of the Teeth.' Xin gave him another grin. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I've done this plenty. Good trick for smugglers to know if they want to avoid Imperial patrols. See?' he said, indicating the surveyor screen. 'Nobody can see anything that's in here, unless they search from above the Teeth. Nobody does that because the rocks play tricks with the wind, and it's even more dangerous the higher up you get. Sudden updrafts and strange flows in the air. You earthbound don't appreciate these things.' Larandus did not know what to say. He was still uncomfortable about not having any control over the situation. 'What will you do, then?' he asked the half-elf, for lack of anything better to say. 'I'll listen,' Xin replied simply. What he could possibly hear over the noise of the wind outside, Larandus did not know. It was likely some trick that he had learned. More likely, he had inherited some keener senses through his non-human blood. Whatever it was Xin was searching for, he obviously found it a few minutes later. Larandus could not distinguish the roar of the other two flyers' engines over the wind, but Xin reassured him that he knew where they were. The wind and rock could have distorted the position of the sound beyond all possible location, but Xin appeared absolutely confident as he started the engines again and forced the flyer off the ground. Designed with the desert in mind, and likely any other terrain, the flyer rose easily, without any hint of weather damage to any of its mechanisms. 'Nice toy,' Xin murmured as he rose, gradually shifting the engines to provide more thrust. Then he was off again, weaving through the bewildering maze between the rocks. By the determined set of his mouth, Larandus knew that he was chasing something that only he could hear. His eyes were invisible behind his flight visor, but Larandus imagined that they would be narrowed in concentration. Xin threw the flyer around a pillar with a deft manipulation of the engines, and suddenly they were behind one of the rebels. Its own engines burning with blue flame as it roared through the Teeth, searching for them, it was utterly helpless as Xin powered after it. The half-elf shifted his fingers on the crescent-shaped control device, resting them on what looked like a pair of gun triggers. He was murmuring something silently to himself. Another of the instruments on the panel chirped erratically. It must have been some sort of targeting system, but its returns were being distorted by the terrain. Xin was shooting with his eyes alone. There was a short, muffled chattering noise as he opened fire on the rebel flyer. Blue fire erupted from the nose of the flyer and to either side of the main body as the guns roared into life. The other craft looked as though it had been kicked from behind by a gigantic boot as Xin's shots tore through its engines, sending metal debris flying to smash against the rocks and ping against the hull of their flyer. Tumbling forward, blue fire blossoming behind it, it smashed into a rock pillar and exploded spectacularly. Xin flew straight through the plume of smoke it left behind, navigating through the pillars once again. His smile was one of satisfaction. 'One to go,' Xin murmured as he nursed the controls and hurled the flyer through the Teeth. He found the other rebel craft after another minute of hunting through the billowing sand. Its pilot must have noticed something amiss by chance, as it began to jink from side to side, avoiding Xin's aim. Even with inexperienced eyes, Larandus could see that this pilot was much better than the other one. The rebel threw his craft through the rocks almost as easily as Xin did, and eventually powered right out of the Teeth and out into open air once more. They rose high, then dived again, the rebel craft a shard of blackness against the sky and then the sand. Xin chased him relentlessly. Larandus felt nauseous after a few twists and rolls. Then Xin smiled, and the guns of their craft roared once more, tearing off the rebel's wings as he turned prematurely. The craft seemed to shudder as its pilot fought to regain control, then vanished in a burst of fire and metal as Xin fired another stream of shots. Seemingly without another thought, Xin banked hard and sped off southwards, seeking the smuggler's passes that would take them back into Imperial lands. Xin touched down on a field to the north of Dramaskus City, in the shadow of the eastern mountains. The flyer's engines blew grass away in a rippling circle as it landed. Larandus was grateful to step out of the harness binding him to his seat and out of the craft completely, not letting himself become too comfortable until he was back on solid ground. Xin was powering down the engines as he, Siel and Dansh stepped out of the flyer, with a freshly revived Taldran in tow. The whine of the engine turbines slowly died away, but Larandus knew it was not over yet. The field they had landed on had been agreed on beforehand by Siel and Lord Sezarn. A company of Imperial Musketeers was waiting for them as they stepped out of the flyer, all with muskets shouldered and black coats buttoned up against the stiff breeze. Larandus felt out of place in his stolen clothing, even with the goggles off and the head wrappings removed. The musketeers saluted him as one, then stood at ease while Lord Sezarn approached, a group of other nobles standing some distance away. 'Agent Zekar,' he said, without any warmth in his eyes, 'it is good to see you return alive and well.' No thanks to you and your cousin, Larandus thought bitterly. He forced himself to be civil, however. 'It pleases me to aid the Emperor by returning two of his able servants,' he said, neglecting to mention that one of those servants had to be knocked unconscious before he would come. 'I trust that our absence did not cause undue distress, Lord.' Two of the musketeers stepped forward to take Taldran into a nearby carriage. It had been modified with weaker versions of a flyer's engines, and floated a few feet above the ground as the small lift machines whined. It was drawn by two black horses, and had the Imperial coat of arms on the doors. Lord Sezarn stepped closer to Larandus, smiling as though he were about to privately thank him. What he really said was, 'You only live at my sufferance, Zekar. I could have you tried and executed for endangering the Empire. Your raid failed. The rebels escaped. We have learned nothing from them. I could have you stripped of your rank right now and nobody would argue with me, you worthless bit of slime.' Larandus smiled amicably as though accepting the lord's thanks, for the benefit of the audience. 'I'm sure the courts would like to hear both sides of the story, Lord. The records will show that you forcefully included Agent Taldran in the operation against my will as the chief investigator, and I am sure the City Watch's reports of the event will describe in detail how he and his retinue disrupted the otherwise controlled proceedings. I'm also fairly sure that you don't want to set any precedent for successfully prosecuting an Imperial agent such as myself, as you might remember that the case I filed against Agent Taldran some years ago is still open for appeal.' Sezarn gave him a vicious stare that would have laid low any other man. 'I will have your badge someday, Zekar. When I do, you will regret crossing me.' 'I'm sure I will, sir,' Larandus replied smoothly. 'In the meantime, do you not have to look after Agent Taldran? He did not deal with the incarceration or the escape well.' Sezarn almost snarled as he stalked off toward his waiting carriage. 'Well done,' Siel murmured as she walked past him and towards the carriage that had been brought for them. He thought he saw her smile. Xin did not come back to the city with them. Siel later told Larandus that he preferred not to enter Dramaskus City openly nowadays. Larandus suspected that part of the deal had not been to give Xin the flyer, and the real reason for the half-elf's absence was that he had absconded with the machine and was busy hiding it from Imperial eyes. For his part, Larandus could hardly care for the Imperial Army's loss. Xin had been useful, and likely would later with that flyer in his possession. Siel was still not forthcoming about Xin' background, which Larandus found strange. She had never been open about her associates and their pasts, but when Larandus asked, she would always furnish him with information. Normally, though, he did not ask out of professional courtesy. She deserved some trust. However, he did find it somewhat strange that she was not willing to say anything about Xin. When he asked Dansh about it, the telepath said, 'I would rather not know, if she doesn't want to talk about it. I'm sure you know how to use the Archives, Larandus.' He took the hint. After Siel and Dansh had retired into their own quarters, Larandus took the time to visit the Archives. It was dark, and the glowlamps only provided minimal illumination. A few Archivists were still working, shelving books that had been used earlier. Greycoats were among the Archives' most frequent patrons, owing to their work. Many did not have the presence of mind to return the books and documents where they had found them as they ran off to follow leads. The protection of Imperial interests was very consuming work. It took some time to round up all the files on people named Xin. It was not an uncommon name, especially given the Empire's rising population of elves and half-elves as immigrants kept coming in from the south to take advantage of business and security in Imperial lands. Security which was sometimes impeded by the sheer amount of paperwork that immigration created. Eventually, Larandus narrowed the files down to those who had been in the army at some stage. From there, it did not take long to find their mysterious pilot's file. By then, it was an hour till midnight. He was still reading it when the sun rose, its light piercing the small, high windows of the Archives and shining in the airborne dust of the place. It was fascinating. Xin had indeed been in the Imperial Army for a time, and had been piloting flyers in nearly all their different incarnations, developing a talent for the task. Before that, he had officially served as an Imperial Pathfinder. He had an extensive list of citations for bravery in combat beside his name. He had once held a position single-handedly for sixteen hours with only a carbine and a sword while waiting for reinforcements after his unit was pinned down in a Rallene ambush. He had several awards for marksmanship and close quarters combat, and was a qualified training instructor in unarmed disciplines. He was discharged from the Army proper after an illegal arms trafficking scandal which he managed to escape, but continued to serve by testing flyers. Eventually, they found that he was actually using the flight hours to smuggle drystar and guns, but were too late to stop him making off with one of the machines, presumably the one Siel had mentioned back in the prison. The last entry said that Lord Sezarn had drafted a pardon for him, but revoked it after he stole a new flyer. That was an entry from the day before, only hours before Larandus began searching the Archives. Imperial record-keeping was quite efficient. Larandus was going over his notes one last time when he noticed something else. Xin, or Ming Xin Jai to use his full name, had been discharged for smuggling guns for certain criminal elements, some of which were tantalisingly familiar. Acting on a hunch, he cross-referenced some dates and names in the record with other files. By noon, he had found a name. Before working for Siel, Xin had been smuggling for the Sons of Zannariamus. Siel knew nothing about Xin's activities. Larandus later found out that she had been tight-lipped because she and Xin had been lovers for a time. When he made it clear that he wanted to find Xin and question him, Siel only gave him directions, but refused to come. He would have given her a direct order to accompany them, but thought better of it. Dansh agreed with him. They took a carriage to where Xin supposedly stayed while in the city. It was a sprawling apartment complex in the slums near Dockside. Most of the rooms were empty. The walls were flaking plaster, and the glowlamps bolted to the ceiling were all dim with age and flickered erratically. Power was expensive for these people. They found Xin's apartment after twenty minutes of searching through the twisting maze of the building's corridors. Larandus did not bother to knock, opting to just force the door open with his shoulder. There was little resistance. These apartments were built for affordability, not security. Xin had been expecting him. He only had a fraction of a second's warning before a boot connected with his ribs, sending him sprawling into the apartment's bare living room. His coat tore against a crack in the concrete floor. He rolled to the side in time to avoid his skull being kicked in, and only managed to regain his feet before another kick smashed into his stomach, knocking him back against the wall and winding him. Xin threw another lightning-fast kick that he barely ducked, and then he found the half-elf's knee ramming into his face. He tasted blood as his nose bled freely. Larandus blocked another kick, then another, his muscles screaming in pain at the battering. Xin was good. But he was a Greycoat, and no stranger to hand-to-hand combat. He caught another kick on his forearms, then trapped the foot and pushed upwards, following up with a knee that smashed into Xin's side, cracking ribs. Not letting go of Xin's foot, he pumped an elbow sideways into the half-elf's face, opening the skin above his eye. Xin punched and elbowed, and Larandus stumbled back, his face and arms afire with pain. Dansh was outside, he knew, but he was not accustomed to working on half-elves, whose minds worked differently to human minds on a fundamental level. Larandus did not fully understand the concepts behind a telepath's work, but he hoped that Dansh could do what he needed him to before Xin killed him. He ducked another punch, then dodged a kick, retaliating quickly and landing a solid hit on Xin's ankle. The half-elf cried out in pain, but kept fighting. Larandus put some distance between them and finally managed to draw his revolver, pulling back the hammer and putting a bullet into Xin's leg before he could come any closer. 'You are not endearing yourself to me, Xin,' he said, trying not to pant. 'Suits me fine, Greycoat,' Xin replied, his customary grin gone as he lay on the ground bleeding. 'If this is about the flyer, you're not getting it back.' 'This isn't about the damn flyer,' Larandus hissed. 'Tell me about your previous employers before I put the next one into your skull.' 'I don't really know what you want,' Xin said. 'I don't remember much about that. Why are you in here shooting me instead of just asking?' 'I can't take that risk. You collaborated with anarchists who would harm the Empire. You have a history of taking advantage of Imperial resources. How do I know you're not still working with them, and the rescue wasn't just an elaborate ruse?' 'What do you want to know?' the half-elf practically screamed. 'Ancestors, I'm bleeding to death here. What the hell do you want to know that's so damn important?' 'Where did you meet with them? How did you contact them? Can you still do so?' Larandus threw out the questions one after another. He hoped Dansh was listening in his own way. 'Let me talk to Siel,' said Xin. 'I don't trust a Greycoat to keep his word.' For someone bleeding on a slum floor, the half-elf knew how to make demands. 'Let him, Larandus,' said Dansh, walking in. 'They implanted a shield in his mind. I can't break it.' Larandus cursed under his breath. 'What else did they put in there? This might be a trap. Okarth might be controlling him. He might blow our cover when we make our move.' 'We have to trust him, Larandus,' Dansh insisted. 'It might be the only lead we'll find.' Larandus stared hard at Xin for a few moments. The half-elf's face was a contorted mask of pain, but there was no anger or malice there. If he spared Siel all those years ago to take advantage of her talents, then why could he not do the same with Xin? He shot the wall above Xin's head. The bullet tore right through the plaster and shattered a section of the concrete floor in the next room. He holstered the weapon. 'Fine,' he said. 'Ming Xin Jai, in the name of the Emperor, you are now under my custody. Don't presume that you have any rights. 'You're a prisoner now.'

You learn well. That is good. Yes, wear something to keep the wind off. It will stop your pathetic un-Man body from freezing over and killing you once you begin to work up a sweat. Wind chill is your enemy. Until you are a True Man, you will fear the icy teeth of the wind and its attacks against your sweat. When you have attained the proper level of Man, you will no longer require a windbreaker; the air itself will ionise around you from the sheer pressure of the testosterone you keep inside and keep you nicely warm.

He's actually a huge Nordic guy who can swim underwater for over 24 hours without breathing. While wearing armour. Then fighting and killing a demon afterwards.

Man it up! Climb mountains! Swim in icy lakes! Wrestle with bears! All at the SAME TIME!

Beowulf was the Chuck Norris of the fifth century AD. Of course I'm going to watch it. Let's hope they don't mess it up too much.

CHAPTER IV: FLIGHT IT WAS IRONIC, Larandus decided. He could still remember beating Ancrus in that hot, stark room, asking questions and finding no answers. Now Ancrus, clothed in finery once again, was laying into him with calculated punches. He was chained to a wall, he knew that much. He very much doubted that they were still in the old palace. The floor was tiled and slick with blood. Larandus regarded it with a sense of detachment even as he realised that it was his own. Ancrus was taking pleasure in this act of revenge. He imagined that the man was doing his very best to replicate the injuries Larandus had inflicted on him. Of course, he was using blades and hot irons as well, which was probably some way of repaying Larandus with interest. He was stripped to his waist. His coat, shirt and other possessions were nowhere to be seen. All he had were his breeches. The manacles were chafing his wrists and ankles. There was an oil lamp on a table where Ancrus had laid out his instruments. It did not provide much light. 'How much do you know, I wonder, Greycoat?' Ancrus was saying. Larandus did not answer. He was not entirely sure if the man wanted him to respond at all. If Ancrus wanted answers, Larandus would not answer him. Of course, Ancrus was not the only one in the room with him. The foreign telepath was there, watching intently, almost interestedly with his hood down, letting Larandus see his face for the first time. It was almost skull-like, and was set in a twisted little smile. The eyes were a dirty hazel and devoid of all emotion. The head was shaved completely bald and tattooed with symbols and images that Larandus did not recognise. He was not sure that he wanted to. The telepath appeared as spare as Dansh would have after hours of exertion, but something about this man seemed to suggest to Larandus that this was a more permanent state of emaciation. The rest of his body was invisible beneath his dark robe, but even then Larandus could see that his head seemed a mite too big. His fingers, long and little more than skin clinging to bones, were clasped at the small of his back as he paced back and forth. Larandus could feel the telepath probing into his mind. That was what he was truly afraid of. Ancrus could beat him all he wanted; that would not elicit answers. He suffered worse from his mentors during his training. However, though he had been trained to resist telepathic interrogation methods, he still felt woefully defenceless against this rail-thin man who paced before him. He concentrated hard on keeping the telepath's probing at bay. He tried going through some mental exercises he had been taught by his old mentors. It seemed like such a long time ago that he was nothing more than a novice at the Imperial Academy at Velind. He remembered long, sleepless nights in lightless chambers much like this one, constantly being harried by the instructors' agile minds. He could taste blood in his mouth. Ancrus had struck him again. Now he was moving away, picking up some instrument from the table and returning to work on Larandus some more. He was not paying attention to whatever it was Ancrus was doing. He could dimly feel the pain, but he was too focused on resisting the telepath. Larandus had to give them credit. He would have done the same, except the sharp implements, he would have left to more expert practitioners, like Siel. Siel. He wondered if she had escaped with Dansh when he told her to. Before Taldran came and ruined everything. Inwardly, he cursed Taldran. He hoped that he was still alive, so that he could kill him later. 'Yes, he is,' the telepath said suddenly. Larandus remembered that his thoughts were still being read. The telepath's voice was icy, a flat, breathy monotone. 'Thank you for reminding us.' He laughed, a disturbing sound coming from such a blank face. 'Perhaps we shall work on him later. He seems the type to be more cooperative.' 'He doesn't know anything,' Larandus said. Ancrus struck him again. 'I didn't ask you to talk, Greycoat.' 'Enough, Zren,' the telepath said, mercifully ceasing his probing and making for the door. 'We are done for today. Have the guards feed our guest.' Ancrus gathered up his tools and followed the telepath out, casting Larandus a venomous look as he left. 'I still haven't forgotten, Greycoat,' he said. 'Neither have I,' Larandus replied, surprised at how hoarse his throat felt. The door slammed behind Ancrus. Looking down, Larandus examined the latest of his wounds. Ancrus Zren was quite thorough. He was not sure how he had so neatly removed those layers of skin from his torso. It stung terribly, but he was not going to give Zren the satisfaction of knowing his pain. It would be worse when the guards came to feed him, of course. Not trusting him alone, Zren had had the guards feed him for what he reckoned to be the past two days or so. Usually, the food was salty or sour, and the juices always dripped down his chin onto the raw skin of his body, multiplying the pain many times over. It was cruel and quite imaginative. Larandus fancied that he would have the same done to Zren if he ever had him in an interrogation chamber again. He spent the interval trying to relax his mind. The pain was almost unbearable, but his resistance against the telepath's intrusions took paramount importance. At times like these, he honestly did appreciate Dansh working for him. To think that he had once counted Dansh as nothing but a freak. In retrospect, though, he knew that that had been a result of his own education: every man who did not conform was a potential threat to the Empire. He had, of course, tempered those lessons with experience, and knew to sort the useful from the dangerous. After all those years of working together, Dansh was the closest that Larandus had to a friend. A Greycoat's life was a lonely one. The guards came and fed him in their characteristic apathetic fashion. It was almost as though they were under orders to spill the hot, spicy broth he was being fed onto his bloody torso. They neither seemed to enjoy nor resent their task. They had their faces wrapped in cloth, leaving only the eyes exposed, and they had goggles hanging loosely around their necks. Larandus wondered what place he could be held where the men had to wear such clothing. He knew that it must be somewhere close, if not in the great Elaman Desert to the north of Dramaskus. Sometimes, his guards would still have sand on their boots. The Elaman was an inhospitable place, with the air itself sucking moisture out of any exposed flesh. That would explain the guards' garb. Drystar, that valuable blue crystal which powered Dramaskan machinery and was the lifeblood of the Empire, was mined in the Elaman. Larandus did not know the exact details, for none of his superiors had decided that he needed to. He knew that the crystal grew by devouring moisture and stored it at high pressures, hence its usefulness in steam engines and in ammunition cartridges. Beyond that, he knew little. 'How's the weather?' Larandus ventured by way of conversation with his guards, after they fed him and gave him water. They looked at each other for a moment, unsure, until one spoke. 'Sandstorm,' was the reply. 'Pretty bad out. You prisoners are lucky, staying in all day long.' Prisoners. That reminded him of Taldran. He could not help but blame him for this. If he had not come in and ruined everything... He noticed a flicker of movement, near the door. The guards did not. Very few people would have. For a moment, he thought Zren or the telepath had returned, but he did not think that any other would have moved like that. He resolved to keep talking to the guards, so that they would not leave so soon, or notice what he had. 'Does he give you any trouble?' 'Who does?' asked the guard who had spoken before. He was stowing away the empty bowl and utensils into a satchel he was carrying. He had a slim blade at his belt, but was otherwise unarmed. 'The other prisoner,' Larandus said. Both guards gave a bark of laughter. 'Him? Ah, he's a good one,' said the talkative guard. 'Master Zren hardly has to hurt him and he talks.' 'Yeah, but he don't know anything useful,' said the other. 'You hear what that brainjob says? Okarth? He don't know what this one does, he says.' Okarth. At least now Larandus had a name for the telepath. Of course, he was also somewhat relieved that Taldran knew nothing. He had rather expected it, but dreaded otherwise. Lord Sezarn would not have told Taldran anything he did not think he needed to know. Taldran was just a tool, if a favoured one. 'Don't let him hear you say that,' the talkative one cautioned his companion. 'He doesn't like being called that. He'll do something bad to you.' 'Something like this?' asked a shadow as it detached itself from the wall. A second later, and the talkative guard was uttering a muffled cry, with a hand clamped over his mouth and another driving a dagger into his neck. Larandus was impressed. He had not even seen anything enter the room, and he knew what he was looking for. Before he could blink, and certainly before the other guard could draw his blade, his neck had been snapped, and a dagger had been inserted into his brain, just to be sure. Larandus smiled. 'Surprised to see me?' asked Siel, taking off her goggles. 'You took your time,' was all Larandus said. The corridor outside the cell was empty. It was underground: the construction indicated as much. It had probably been bored through solid rock and later reinforced with concrete. Glowlamps hung from the ceiling at regular intervals, washing the tunnel with weak yellow light. They flickered feebly every now and then. Larandus could not see any other cells. They must have been keeping Taldran somewhere else. Siel indicated an open vent. 'Through there,' she said. How she managed to remove the grille and drop it onto the concrete floor of the tunnel without making a noise was beyond him. She knew tricks, and Larandus left it at that. She tried to teach him once, but gave up after a while, saying that he had no talent for sneaking around and doing whatever it was she did. He thought he did well, but clearly there was a huge disparity between their abilities. He hoisted himself up into the vent, and she followed right after him, somehow pulling the grille back up into place after her. There was barely any room to crawl. He would have had trouble moving around in here naked. It did not help that he had stripped one of the dead guards of his garments. Siel said it would be necessary, and after the guards' talk of sandstorms, he did not argue with her. 'I've got Dansh outside with a flyer,' she was saying as they negotiated the tight vent ducts. He almost banged his head in surprise. 'Where did you get a flyer?' he wondered. 'I thought those things were restricted. As in, illegal unless we're in the right military departments restricted.' He could not see her, but he imagined that she was grinning. 'Dansh convinced Lord Sezarn that he'd be the only one who could track you. Well, Taldran. He pulled some strings. Guess he really wants his cousin alive.' 'He'd rather I was dead, though,' Larandus pointed out. 'Yeah,' she agreed, 'but he was on to us. We wouldn't agree to go fetch Taldran unless we get you, too.' 'He'll hate us for that,' Larandus said. 'He doesn't like me as it is. Now he's pulling secret military gear out for us. How did he do that, do you know?' She probably shrugged. 'Probably has a nephew where it counts. I didn't ask. That pig has too much family everywhere. His father was a good man, apparently. Had lots of children, pledged them all to the Emperor's service.' 'Where'd you get a pilot?' Larandus asked, shaking his head slightly. The cloth wrappings were uncomfortable, doubly so for having been worn by a man he had seen die. 'Don't tell me they're from Sezarn's family as well.' 'Nah, I got an old acquaintance. Smuggler, ex-military. Flew the earlier models, still has one hidden somewhere that the rest of the Empire doesn't know anything about. I think you'll like him.' Larandus gave her the benefit of the doubt. He did not really see that he had much choice. If this smuggler was his only way out of this place, he'd take the chance. Of course, that was if they survived rescuing Taldran. He really did not want to, but now that Siel and Dansh had made that deal with Lord Sezarn, he did not have much choice in the matter, either. He did not like being left out of the loop like this. 'Here,' said Siel in the darkness as she opened a grille. There was more weak light outside. However she did it, she was down on the floor quickly and silently, the grille beside her. He followed her out into a tunnel remarkably similar to the one they had left earlier. This was clearly where Taldran was being held. The tunnel looked as though it was used regularly. Siel had the cell door open without much difficulty, and they entered the poorly lit room. Taldran was manacled to the wall, much like Larandus had been. He visibly shook when he saw them enter, probably thinking them guards. Larandus felt a little satisfaction at that. He had not cowered. He did not give his captors that little victory over him. 'Calm down,' he growled at Taldran as Siel fiddled with the manacles. 'We're here to rescue you. Just be quiet and do what we say.' 'Zekar?' Taldran hissed. 'Don't bother,' he sneered. 'Lord Sezarn will send a rescue party for me. More than I can say about you. You can run out into the desert if you want, but I'm going to get home safely.' 'We are the rescue party, you disgusting piece of filth,' Larandus told him. 'Now shut up and put on these clothes. We don't want you dying, do we?' Taldran opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, like a goldfish. 'You? I don't trust you, Zekar. I'm not leaving with you.' 'Don't worry,' Larandus said, 'I wouldn't trust me either if I had just bungled a raid and gotten me imprisoned and tortured for three days. Get up, you worthless sack of crap. Put on the damn clothes and I'll pretend for a while that you didn't screw up and almost get my team killed.' 'Up yours, Zekar,' Taldran said. Larandus dearly wished that he could just leave him here. It took a special sort of man, he reasoned, to deny rescue out of spite. He took a step towards Taldran and gave him a solid blow to the head, knocking him out cold. 'I don't think we'll be able to drag him through the vents like this,' he told Siel. She shrugged. 'We planned this out earlier. I thought this'd happen, so I had them land the flyer near here. We'll just carry him out.' Bless her, Larandus thought. She thinks about my needs. Taldran must have been speaking loudly earlier, because now Larandus heard guards coming towards the cell outside. Siel drew one of her knives, and Larandus picked up Taldran's limp body. The weight did not help ease the pain in his body. They would have to deal with the guards quickly and make a run for it. Siel knew the way, so he had her lead. Outside, they found a trio of guards coming towards them. One had a revolver, the other two had short blades. The one with the revolver had a knife in his throat before he could shoot. The other two tried to press an attack on Siel, but she was too quick. One had his neck opened up with another knife as Siel pushed past him. The other only barely managed to turn around, then Siel's foot caught his head and snapped it violently in the opposite direction to his turn. He crumpled to the floor, dead. They hurried out, Larandus picking up the dead guard's revolver as he went, bending awkwardly under Taldran's bulk. They eventually found their way to a weather-sealed iron door with a glass porthole. The guards were not exaggerating when they said the storm was bad. Larandus could see nothing but a brown blur, occasionally streaked with blue as the wind carried drystar. 'Are you sure about this?' he asked Siel as she made to open the door. 'We managed to get here fine, didn't we? Trust us, Larandus. Dansh knows we're coming,' she added. He could hear a shrill whine outside gradually increasing in volume. That must be the flyer. He had never seen one before, let alone been in one. 'Let's go!' Siel shouted as the door slammed open. Almost immediately, the tunnel was filled with sand. They strode out into it, the thick material of their clothes protecting them, but the wind almost hurled them away. Larandus moved awkwardly with Taldran across his shoulders, concentrating on Siel in front of him as he took one agonisingly slow step after another into the billowing fury of the storm. Then, she was gone. Looking up, he saw the flyer in front of him. It was bigger than anything he thought could ever fly. If he believed the myths, this was how big a dragon would have been. It was a sleek, black dart thirty feet long, with small wings on either side of the body. The whining noise was deafening here, and it came from engines set towards the back of the craft. Larandus thought he saw something that looked almost like guns of exotic craftsmanship under the nose, and a pair under the wings. Hands helped him heave Taldran inside, then pulled him up afterwards. A door closed, and his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light inside. It was cramped, and Siel was strapping Taldran into a seat. Dansh sat opposite him, the floor around him still iced over. He was probably shielding the entire flyer. Siel led him to the nose of the craft, where a man in a black bodysuit was sitting in front of a control panel. 'This is Xin,' she said as she helped him into a seat beside the pilot. 'He's a half-elf.' Xin, who looked almost like a human except for his slightly pointed ears and oddly tilted eyes, gave him a grin. He had the elegant looks of his elven heritage, but did not look out of place in a flight harness. He put on his helmet with its dark glass visor and said, 'Strap in!' in his strange accent. 'Go, Xin,' Dansh called from behind Larandus. 'They have flyers, too, and they've spotted you.' Larandus heard Siel securing herself to a seat in the passenger cabin. 'Ready?' Xin asked Larandus with a grin that looked positively diabolical under the black visor that covered his eyes. Green light flickered along the panel before him, and the half-elf gripped the controls easily. 'Let's go!' With a lurch, and no small amount of alarm, Larandus felt the craft shoot upwards into the air, tilting forward as Xin put in some forward thrust. They shot high above the sandstorm, which became an ugly blotch on the landscape beneath. Out of it, screaming after them, shot two black shapes, the blue glow of their engines picking them out against the storm. 'Sit tight and enjoy the ride,' Xin said with another disturbing grin as he moved a lever forward and the craft blasted through the air. Gunfire chased them, but Larandus was fairly sure that he was already scared half to death before the shooting even began.

I love it how the Coalition ads make it out like people should be afraid of the union bosses as though they were all Hitler reborn. However, I'm a little apprehensive about a federal Labour government when every state government is also Labour. It just doesn't seem right.

Ask yourself: What would an Imperial Commissar do?

Attention posters: This thread is made of Man. OT: Have you tried Google?

The main thing that distinguishes Morrowind for me is that the setting is much more compelling than Oblivion's. Don't get me wrong. I love Oblivion to pieces and I make sexy time to it every night. Morrowind, however, decided NOT to be another pseudo-medieval setting. By Oblivion, Bethesda retconned Cyrodiil from a jungle-like province into Western Europe. Oh, and the voice acting isn't as compelling. In Oblivion, there really isn't anything to set the different elven species apart, as far as their speech is concerned. They all sound like they're from somewhere in Britain. That isn't a bad thing in and of itself, but come on, their home provinces are very far apart. Back in Morrowind the high elves sounded appropriately snobby, the wood elves had voices to suit their stature, and the dark elves sounded like they came out of the womb with a cigarette already in their mouth, and the first thing they ate was gravel. Also, armour looked a tad more unique in Morrowind - especially the bonemold varieties. There was just that much more depth in the setting. Don't get me wrong. Oblivion does more or less everything else better than Morrowind, but the setting has nothing on TES3.

I, for one, wholeheartedly welcome our new Nibirunite overlords.

Krieg Commissar: Failing that, grab a couple of friends and make sure the pool's closed.

Nuke the site from orbit, it's the only way to be sure.

That is so [bleep] funny! I LOLed beyond belief. Oh my god... The other one make you feel like a fighter jet made of BICEPS.

That sounds like quitter talk to me. Are you a quitter, soldier?

Man it up! Kill a bear with your teeth!

Stratovarius - Destiny

INTERLUDE: SHADE A MEMORY. Dramaskus City, Dockside district, eight years earlier. The corpse was fresh. Larandus did not even need to touch it to check. Blood was still oozing out of the man's punctured lungs and steaming in the cold winter air. The snow around it was soft and pink. The killer was nowhere to be seen, but he knew who it was. He had only been an Imperial agent for five years, but already he was certain that no other would have carried out such a murder with cold-blooded efficiency and precision. The fact that he knelt over what was once the most powerful crime lord in the district did not even faze him. The killer had had years of experience at their craft, if the Archives were to be believed. Larandus set great store by the Archives. 'Make a note of it,' he said to Avrick, his aide, gathering his grey coat around him as he dictated. 'The fifteenth day of Khenas, in the Year of our Empire 1884. Galran Dorin is found dead in an alley two blocks from his suspected headquarters in Dockside. Cause of death: ambush, severe blunt trauma to the head and multiple punctures to the lungs, possibly from a short, edged weapon. Addendum: this is the work of the manhunter "Shade". Investigation continues.' Avrick nodded to him as he finished writing down the last few words. A young man of no more than eighteen years, Avrick had been detailed to him as a scribe and investigator in training. He needed field experience, apparently. This was his first assignment. He was a lanky youth, an inch shorter than Larandus' six feet, his brown hair cropped short and his blue eyes bespectacled. He looked small in his heavy brown greatcoat. 'Shade went towards the docks,' a voice said behind him. It was Dansh, his telepath. He had worked with the little freak for a year now, but he was still uneasy about him. At least a mage would wave his arms and chant when performing his tricks. A brainjob like Dansh would just stare at something and whatever it was he was doing would happen, with nothing to show for it except maybe a bit of ice on the floor. In the middle of a Dramaskan winter, it was difficult to see even that. 'How do you know?' he asked Dansh suspiciously. He was still unsure as to how the telepath performed his myriad tricks. Dansh gave him a withering look. 'Shade has a powerful psychic signature, owing to the weapons it carries. All one has to do is trace the most recent positions of those weapons, which seem to never leave their owner's person.' Larandus gave a noncommittal grunt. He had no idea what Dansh was trying to say. He thought perhaps that a side effect of his mutation was that he thought too quickly. 'Whatever,' he said. 'Let's go, then.' The walk to the docks took the better part of half an hour. They were almost deserted at this time of year, with only Imperial Customs patrol boats regularly speeding up and down the Sar Galun River, and trading boats limiting themselves to the port city of Liras, far to the south. A film of ice coated the water, especially around the dock pilings and other places where vessels did not regularly come and go. The jetties looked especially slippery. The vast stretch of open ground that would, in warmer months, be covered with traders' crates and barrels and shouting merchants and hurrying porters was instead merely an expanse of space where the bitter wind could pick up speed. The sun shone weakly overhead. Tonight would be the longest night of the year, and while some within the city would be partaking in a number of religious observances, Larandus knew he would be spending it trying to hunt down a murderer, a task that, at this point in his career, he would not pass up even if he were a religious man. 'Where to?' he asked Dansh curtly, his breath misting in front of him. The telepath gave a shrug, then took a few steps forward. 'Shade has gone back into the city from here,' he said after a few moments. Larandus cursed. 'However,' Dansh continued, 'it seems as though its intent is to return here, or somewhere nearby, later this evening.' Larandus shivered in his coat. 'Fine. Let's find somewhere to spend the rest of the day, then. Somewhere out of the wind.' 'Here,' said Avrick as he set down the tray on the table. 'They said they'll bring out the food later.' Larandus gave him a nod and took a cup of coffee. It was a rich black, with only a small amount of milk in it. Ventaran, from the taste. In his years of service, and the years of apprenticeship and training before that, he had had plenty of time to learn to appreciate coffee. The cafe was mostly empty. It usual client̮̬̉̉le of merchants and moneylenders were doing their business further south, where the river was not so treacherous and the winds not so bitterly cold. There were a few Imperial Customs officers lounging about, having drinks and a bite to eat before their shift. In their black coats, they looked like any number of other men and women in service to the Emperor, and the untrained eye would not mark them as any different from an attendant at the Palace or an Archivist. That was the idea. The Empire was run by a single, cohesive body, with its heart and mind in the Imperial Palace and its many extremities reaching out far beyond, even to foreign lands. It was monolithic, united, and powerful beyond any man's imagination. In theory, of course. In practice, it was a mass of smaller entities, all with their own petty rivalries over jurisdiction and every scrap of power they could seize for themselves. There was corruption and favouritism. Having every facet of the Imperial Administration and every part of the Imperial Senate dominated by members of the Council of Nobles was the problem, as Larandus saw it. Of course, this was an Empire which had lasted almost two thousand years, so they must have been doing something right, under all that inefficiency and infighting. In theory, nobody was above the law, not even the Emperor himself. As far as Larandus knew, however, very few noblemen were ever called out for whatever crimes they might have committed. Larandus looked forward to the day when he would set a precedent by having a noble hanged. The Customs men were talking easily amongst themselves. Of course, a few of them cast furtive glances over in Larandus' direction every now and then. Though they spoke freely, they watched their words. The grey coat of the Interior Ministry's agents struck fear into the hearts of every citizen, and every foreigner besides. They had a well-deserved reputation for vigilance, persistence and ruthlessness. Larandus' mentors had given particular emphasis to the deservedly lesser known Greycoat qualities, such as good judgment and integrity. They had tempered his natural affinity for all sorts of unpleasant activities with a strong sense of what was right or wrong for the Empire, and how a Greycoat must conduct himself to earn the respect of the citizens as well, rather than just their fear. The food came, and Larandus set aside his musings to concentrate on the hot broth and its laudable virtues of warding off the chill and filling his empty stomach. Dansh, as always, ate with an eagerness that was astounding for a man who appeared so emaciated and frail. Avrick ate little, but he always did. Later, after some discussion, Larandus had Dansh and Avrick scout out the place where they deduced Shade was to come later that evening. It was a warehouse near the docks, as good a place as any for illicit dealings in the middle of winter. Customs men did not bother to check them then; after all, why look for illicit goods in crates when there were no crates being offloaded? For his part, Larandus took the time to visit the nearest City Watch precinct, labeled in Imperial Administration records as Dockside/3-17. It was a wholly impersonal name, detached in character from the dingy masses of habitation blocks and small businesses around it. Quite appropriate, as far as an Imperial institution went, in Larandus' thinking. His badge of office saw him straight through to the watch captain in charge of the precinct, without having to experience the agonising sea of paperwork normally involved with such short notice visitations. Technically, he could commandeer the entire watch force for this district by virtue of his badge alone, but it never hurt to go through the formalities. After all, while his authority gave him the power to use all Imperial agencies at his discretion, it did not engender goodwill between him and those he commanded. Politely requesting this precinct's assistance in his plan would not only serve to maintain his integrity, but also shift some of the responsibility onto the City Watch. The captain was a gaunt man in his mid-forties, shorter than Larandus and sporting a dark stubble that could have been used to sand diamonds. The watch officers in Dockside, as with most of Dramaskus City's poorer districts, were normally recruited from street gangs in exchange for pardons. This man looked the part. His name was Darenz, according to the name plaque on his desk. 'I wish to request the assistance of your men,' Larandus began without introducing himself. 'I am nearing the end of an investigation, and require manpower to secure the area around Warehouse 35/3r.' 'And the reason, sir?' Captain Darenz asked, politely, but with a cold tone that suggested he did not appreciate being asked to do things without question. Larandus liked him already. 'That is not essential information,' he replied anyway. 'Suffice it to say that there will be awkward questions asked if anyone was to leave that area without my express sanction.' 'I'm afraid I can't in good conscience send a good portion of my force to an area at the behest of even a Greycoat without knowing the reason,' Darenz insisted. Remembering himself, he added, 'Sir.' Larandus smiled inwardly to himself. He was afraid that he would have to go through a number of watch precincts in order to find someone with a bit of backbone. This was the man he wanted for the job. 'I have it on good authority that the murderer known as Shade will be present at that location this evening. I would apprehend them.' Captain Darenz was silent for a few moments, then nodded. 'As you wish, sir. Shade is notorious. I will see what I can do to help in neutralising this enemy of the Emperor.' Larandus left Dockside/3-17 shortly after, with the Captain's assurance that he will have his men. He did not, however, tell the Captain what he really planned to do with this Shade. Warehouse 35/3r was normally reserved for mining supplies and heavy machinery. At this time of year, it was an immense, echoing shell of iron, bricks and wood. The lights were off, but moonlight streamed in through huge glass panels set in the cavernous roof. Red and White moon were up tonight, and the interior of the warehouse was covered in alternating patches of strong illumination and deep shadow. There were a few people engaged in conversation at the very heart of the warehouse, in a patch of red-tinged silver light. Dust hung heavily in the air. Larandus had quietly surrounded the warehouse's two entrances with the thirty men Captain Darenz had managed to spare. They had orders to arrest anyone who tried to escape, and shoot the ones who resisted. Larandus pressed a lead ball into the muzzle of his single-shot pistol, then drew his sabre. It was safe to assume that one of those people inside was Shade, another the client, and the rest guards. He left Dansh with the watchmen, unsure of how useful the telepath would be in a fight. He had not thought to risk him yet, no matter how much he wanted to be rid of the freak. Avrick, he sent up through one of the warehouse's inactive vent ducts with a crossbow and orders to start shooting only when Larandus did. He took five brown-coated watchmen with him, and stormed into the warehouse. Few of the guards inside had crossbows; the rest were armed with swords and clubs. 'Interior Ministry!' Larandus bellowed as he strode into the warehouse, pistol raised. 'Drop your weapons!' Of course, he did not expect that they would. Seeing him and the browncoats, the swordsmen formed up around their master, while a dark figure Larandus assumed was Shade melted into the shadows, disappearing as though it was never there. Three men with crossbows raised their weapons and fired. One browncoat beside Larandus screamed as a bolt struck him in the chest, punching through his breastplate and knocking him to the ground. The others opened fire, without much success, the interplay of dark and light playing tricks on their minds and sending their bolts flying errantly into the darkness. Larandus sighted along his pistol and dropped one of the crossbowmen with a shot to the chest. Not stopping to reload, he thrust the pistol into its holster, drew his sabre and charged as another fell to a bolt from Avrick. In moments, the battle was joined in earnest, with the swordsmen surging forward to engage, and the browncoats laying into them with cudgels and swords. Larandus knocked aside a thrust, then riposted, taking his assailant in the ribs. Pulling out his sabre, he thrust it forward and made a draw-cut against another of the thugs, opening up his stomach while one of the browncoats clubbed him savagely in the head. The man whom Larandus assumed to be Shade's client tried to escape out the other side of the warehouse, but met the browncoats there. Larandus found himself outside the vicious hand to hand combat for a moment, and took the time to reload his pistol, replacing it in the holster again before leaving the floor of the warehouse completely and clambering up to the catwalks above for a better view. From higher ground, he might even have a chance to find Shade before it disappeared. He found it interesting that for all that Shade was notorious, none knew even if it was a man or a woman. A muffled clatter somewhere in the darkness ahead alerted him, and he dropped into a crouch, his sabre low and his pistol in his other hand. Creeping forward, he was only dimly aware of the fighting below. His breathing and his heartbeat seemed far louder up here. He did not even want to blink. Then he found Avrick, lying still in a pool of moonlight. Blood dripped down, over the edge of the catwalk and into the darkness of the warehouse below. His throat had been cut. Larandus quickly backed away from the light. He heard laughter. 'Who's there?' he asked the darkness. More laughter came in reply. 'You really think you caught me this time?' asked a woman's voice. 'You're good, Greycoat, but I'm better.' Suddenly Larandus was knocked onto his back, a weight landing on top of him in the darkness. His mind dimly registered a faint, decidedly feminine scent. Only instinct made him let go of his sabre and grab the wrist of his attacker as she tried to drive a knife into his eye. They struggled for a moment on the catwalk, her trying to push the knife closer, and him trying not to die. 'I don't want to kill you,' Larandus managed to gasp out as he jinked his head to the side, the knife scraping across the iron catwalk a hair's breadth away. 'Then you must be stupider than I gave you credit for,' said Shade as she thrust again. He rolled to the very edge of the catwalk, almost falling off, but managing to put himself on top of the woman, who brought up her knee, knocking the wind out of him as it collided with his stomach. He retaliated with a punch to her side, then an elbow to her face. She tried to put her knife into his ribs, but he managed to twist just enough for it to tear through his coat and rip into his arm instead. He butted his head against hers, smashing the back of her skull against the catwalk. She countered with a punch that almost dislocated his jaw. He rolled off, pointing his pistol at her as he stood. The propellant inside whined as it primed. 'You'll be hanged,' he panted, aware of the warm dampness in his sleeve and the dead weight of his arm. 'I can save you,' he said. She laughed as she stayed on the ground, her face obscured by the shadows. 'Don't play with me, Greycoat,' she said, 'I won't try to bribe you.' 'I won't take your bribes, Shade,' he said. 'I am a servant of the Emperor. I think you could be, too.' She laughed some more. 'Oh, please. If I was, you wouldn't be pointing a gun at me.' 'You have a long record of killing other criminals,' Larandus pointed out. 'Less competition for me,' she reasoned. 'Competition for what? You only ever went for criminals.' 'Everyone's a criminal in Dockside,' she told him. 'Even the Customs men are criminals. The Emperor doesn't care about Dockside, so Dockside takes care of itself.' 'That's not true,' Larandus said. 'Prove it, Greycoat. Shoot me. That's what the Emperor would do if he cared. He'd get rid of the criminals and put honest men in their place.' 'I could use someone like you,' Larandus offered. 'A pardon in return for service. I don't like you, Shade. I don't like you because you are a criminal and an affront to the Emperor's law. Your continuing existence outside of custody is an insult to the Empire. I can take you into my staff and allow you to serve the Emperor with your talents. I am a great believer in efficiency.' 'You're bluffing,' she said suspiciously. 'You wouldn't. You'll take me and throw me behind bars, then hang me when all's said and done. Why don't you shoot me now and get it over and done with, instead of putting the bullet in my back later?' Larandus complied, and pulled the trigger. The bullet punched through the catwalk, less than an inch from Shade's head. 'I would do it,' he said, 'but it would serve the Emperor better if I did not waste your talents by killing you here and now. You already lost me a potential servant of the Emperor tonight. Don't make me waste another.' She laughed as she stood up, knife in hand. 'That's nice, Greycoat, but your pistol only shoots once,' she said as she prepared to lunge. 'Yes,' Larandus agreed, putting a whining barrel against her forehead. 'That's why I carry two.' In the darkness, he imagined that she grinned. That was how he met Siel.