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[Jon Potter]

"Morier, who is this man and what exactly is it he wants?" Saelus asked his companion while keeping his eyes trained on the githyankis and others in the vicinity. He did some quick tactical calculation regarding the feasibility of fighting his way out of this situation.

The preliminary numbers did not look good.

"Surely you told your friend about our fateful meeting and the subsequent business in Colybury?" Dr. Akerman said, drifting forward slightly as he spoke. Morier clenched his teeth, inwardly cursing himself for falling so easily into Akerman's trap.

"It must have slipped my mind," the eldritch warrior grumbled and Akerman made a tut-tut sound.

"What a pity. People have no grasp of what they do," the loremaster said to Olimir. Anger touched his face then and he turned back to Morier. "That day in Colybury was the most important day of your short, violent life, elf! You saw divinity in those streets... the very stuff of creation! A wiser man would have taken heed of what he'd seen there. But you? You let it slip your mind!"

"My, my, my... Morier, you know how to kick some dust up, now don't you?" Saelus said raising an eyebrow towards Morier and slowly drawing a graven Rod from his belt. The albino caught the action and nodded once.

"Sorry I missed the significance," Morier said to Akerman. "I must have been distracted by you acting like a carrion crow, picking at the corpse of a madman looking for something shiny!" Akerman's lips snapped shut into a tight line.

"You sound like that rat-loving druid now, Morier. I expected better of you," the loremaster snapped. "Enough banter! I want the sword and you will give it to me now!"

Sword? Morier made a staying gesture to Saelus and looked up at Akerman in confusion.

"You know we don't have the samsara sword," he said. "You were there when Ayremac took it to wherever he went."

"Frothingham!" Akerman spat as if the very word tasted foul. "He took it to the temple of Umba in Frothingham and the short-sighted fools destroyed it! An original Brypur Vutha-isk! Bathed in Rhianne's blood and forged before the Witch King fell! Broken upon an altar to the very god who was birthed by Rhianne's death!"

"So the samsara sword is no more," Morier replied. "Then what sword are you talking about?"

"Don't act coy, Morier," Akerman cautioned, fixing the albino with a dubious stare. "Surely you noticed the similarities between the samsara sword and the one you carry even now?" The mage pointed at Ravager with his staff. "It too was forged by Brypur Vutha-isk and bathed in godsblood. And as such it belongs in the archives at the Sepulcher of Heaven."

Morier raised his eyebrows and glanced at the hilt of the sword in question. He'd taken it after Ledare died battling Blackheart. Where she'd gotten it, he didn't know. And frankly if parting with the blade kept them out of a much more significant situation, he didn't much care.

"While I can admit no significant attachment to this particular weapon, I have to say that your methods leave at least a little to be desired, Akerman," the albino said, looking up at the wizard and his entourage. Akerman made a dismissive gesture.

"You seem a reasonable fellow, Morier. I admire your pragmatism. If I'd known it were just going to be you with whom I dealt then I might well have approached you differently," the doctor explained. "I expected to contend with the other... less visionary members of your troop. And so I took some precautions." He indicated the githyanki surrounding him and smiled.

"After the way that the druid treated me in Colybury I don't think you can blame me for expecting the worst of our meeting," Akerman added and gestured fleetingly at Saelus. "What's become of your former traveling companions?"

"They've taken a different path," Morier said quickly and Akerman nodded.

"Just as well for you that they have," the loremaster told him. "Viewpoints as extreme as theirs tend to have an unreasonably polarizing effect."

"Even still, I am, as you said, a reasonable man," Morier replied. "And surely you must understand that any good warrior worth his weight needs a weapon that he can rely on to do something for him." The doctor shrugged.

"My arena is the library. I make no pretense of being a warrior," he told the albino and gestured again to the githyanki. "Hence my reason for surrounding myself with worthies such as these."

"In your travels you must have come across something you're willing to part with in exchange for this one," the eldritch warrior suggested and Akerman nodded gravely.

"Ah... I see. You're proposing a trade?" he asked and Morier nodded. "Alas, I have nothing with which to barter. All of the funds that Memento Mori gave me for this mission went to secure the githyanki's assistance. But Gisir Okemocik has an extensive collection of weaponry. Perhaps you can reach some sort of arrangement with him?" The wizard looked hopefully at the lead githyanki and the leader narrowed his eyes.

"Perhaps," the githyanki said turning his eyes to Morier.

"But even if the Gisir makes some sort of deal with you, Morier. I'm afraid that's outside the bounds of our discussion," Dr. Akerman said in an apologetic tone. "Either you'll give me the sword or the githyanki will give it to me after they've destroyed you. Either way, I will have it. The question is whether you want to leave Akiv-tchai alive or not."