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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 1260703" data-attributes="member: 2323">[PLAIN][Draelond #8] At What Price, Victory?[/PLAIN]Still reeling from the events of the last... how long had it been? Draelond suddenly realized that he had no concept of time. His mind swam with questions, visions, all shrouded by a thick fog that lay in his head. More substantial than any he had known, he tried to clear it by breathing deeply... the air hurt his lungs. A dull ache covered his entire body. Was it his body? Again... questions.He strained to sit up, but Harcourt placed a hand on his shoulder and despite their size difference, Draelond didn't feel as though he could muster the strength to overcome the halfling's resistance. He fell back to the stone slab with a thud, his head hitting last, adding to the mother-of-all-headaches that clamored to break his skull open from the inside."I hope you won't mind telling me what you mean when you say this is the 'ultimate trick'?" the warrior said.Harcourt exchanged a look with someone to Draelond's left and the halfling seemed to be non-verbally asking for opinions. "It can't hurt," a female voice said."We owe him a debt of gratitude," the other woman added and Harcourt dismissed her comment with a wave."We brought him back from the dead, didn't we?" the halfling asked, then looked at Draelond and shrugged. "Well, sort of at least. I think that should be thanks enough for what he's doing for us. Don't you agree?" "Where did you find me?" Draelond growled and Harcourt rolled his eyes."We didn't find you, did we? That would be SkyFox. The bounty hunter?" Harcourt seemed annoyed with Draelond's lack of understanding. "He did explain things to you, did he not?  You did come of your own free will, didn't you?"Draelond nodded. "But how did I get here?""Didn't we just go over that?" Harcourt asked and looked to his unseen companions for support."Maybe there's somethin' wrong with his brain?" the other male, Chemb offered."Well, you'd know," one of the women retorted and Draelond heard the sound of a fist striking flesh followed quickly by the woman's indignant shout, "Ow!""No," Draelond said with as much strength as he could muster. "I mean here... in this body!""Oh..," Harcourt said sagely. "Well, have you heard of the Followers of Calaam?"Draelond thought for a moment and nodded. Calaam was the son of Myrkul, the goddess of death. He stood at the gateway between life and death, preventing souls from returning to Oerune as undead. His followers were few, but those who embodied the god's edicts to smite the undead whereever they might be found had attained near mythical status."Well, Sir Alechtus of Gudiberg was a member of the Order of Endings," Harcourt explained, nodding eagerly as he did so. "A real scourge against the undead, that one. Example to thousands, that sort of thing. Except he died and... well... Calaam isn't too keen on his worshippers returning to Oerune once they've passed on."A human woman suddenly appeared in Draelond's field of vision, leaning over the halfling. Her tawny hair cascaded down over Harcourt's face as she leaned in, smiling. "And Harcourt, here, thought that the best thing to do would be to put another soul into Sir Alechtus' body. That way-" Harcourt pushed her away angrily, spitting out her curls as she went."That way," he said loudly, "those people who took comfort in seeing him traipsing about the countryside could continue to enjoy the solace of knowing he was still on the job, smiting the undead, righting wrongs, that sort of thing.""Even if he isn't," the attractive woman added and Harcourt shot her a dirty look. "I mean not really...""This body..," Draelond started to say as his fog-shrouded brain began to put the pieces together."Is Sir Alechtus of Gudiberg, minus the parts that make him Sir Alechtus of Gudiberg, with your soul running the show," Harcourt explained merrily. "All we need you to do is to be seen and don't tell people who you really are. Who are you anyway?"Draelond licked his unfamiliar lips. "Draelond Khemir," he croaked and Harcourt made a face as if he smelled bad cheese."Yuck!" he grimaced. "You won't mind losing THAT stinker, now will you... Sir Alechtus."</blockquote>

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