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They make a strange pair. She is a tall, curvaceous but still lean blonde, dressed in a flowing but ragged topcoat over the chain shirt under which she wears her corset and shirt. Her tight trousers cling to her hips, upon which rests a belt of pouches and two empty holsters for her pistols. Clearly she is the worse for wear at the moment but not injured. The vial of potion she had secreted in her clothes had mended her wounds, if not her pride.

Hovering beside her is what appears to be a mass of dark cloth, a long hooded cloak that seems to be occupied by the swirling shadows within it. A pair of glowing eyes peaks out from under the cowl and long skeletal arms, ending in spider claws, dangle from the sides. Just beneath where its face should have been is the large rat's skull clasp that the blonde had first seen being worn by the vampiress Mira Marlowe that had seduced her, nearly corrupting her with lust and blood.

'Further still...' A horrid voice whispers to Alysa from under the hood. Her reasons for listening to it were simple; Captain Brawne and the rest of the crew had been captured, even possibly killed, by Mira and her new allies while Alysa had found herself alone once more. She had served with Lionares Sinclare, the infamous Nyctaloup, aboard his ship, the Zenith, a remarkable vessel that was operated entirely by a clockwork crew. Once Alysa had learned the secrets of the mysterious man, all of it made more sense. He had offered to assist in her quest for vengeance against Mira as he himself had suffered greatly at the hands of Mira's mistress, the legendary Lady Darclau.

Nevertheless, in the midst of their pursuit, they had run afoul of a sorceress named Sheras and her band of dark fae, who had also freshly fought Mira and her minions. Unfortunately, during the struggle, they had captured Alysa, stolen her away and subjected her to rather lewd torment. She may have suspected that she had once more found herself in a desperate situation from which there would not be an escape when the shadow appeared.

As it happened, the shadow, which had still been in the possession of Mira Marlowe, had taken the opportunity to liberate the object to which it was bound from the grasp of the vampiress, only to end up in the service of Sheras. This, the shadow had assured Alysa, it had found only slightly less tedious and distasteful. Fate, the shadow had decreed, had brought them together once more and, this time, they would not waste the chance. With the shadow's guidance, Alysa had managed to slip free from the subterranean dungeons of the servants of Sheras and escape into the woodland wilderness that lay on the far side of the mountains of Altus. It is then that Alysa realizes that she is in Mystykara.

'For your assistance,' the hooded shadow had told her, 'I have a gift to give you. Follow me and reap your rewards.' Alysa, for her part, found she had little trouble trailing after the unusual cloaked creature in the dark as the Nyctaloup had provided her with a pair of goggles that allowed her to see in even perfect darkness. These the dark fae had been remiss in removing from her, likely considering them not unlike the rest of her apparel, which the sorceress had only partially removed during the interrogation.

Alysa had followed the shadow, somehow knowing that it meant her no harm. She couldn't believe that she is in Mystykara after all this time, she was so far from home she had no choice but to follow the shadow figure and hope that the gift it had to give was far less unpleasant than the one Mira had in mind for her.

Her inquisitive blue eyes run over the landscape as she follows the floating shadow, she was without her weapons but the same sense that told her she will not be harmed tells her she will not need them here. At least not for now. And so she follows it, the goggles pulled over her head, having convinced the dark fae they were simply goggles and nothing more, along with the rest of her now minimal clothing.

Once more, Alysa had proven her weakness for the sensual touch of an alluring woman, though at least the sorceress had not attempt to feed upon her life force or transform her into an inhuman creature. Instead, the woman had merely used all manners of magic to wring torturous pleasure from Alysa until she could not think clearly or even speak in anything but lascivious moans. Her body, which had yielded all too quickly, still occasionally shudders with the remembered sensations and she might have even agreed to an alliance with the sorceress had not the shadow intervened.

It had explained the chilling simplicity of the situation. If Alysa had submitted herself to Sheras, she would, as with all of the corporeal servants of the sorceress, have been fitted with a collar that would make her little more than a slavish thrall. Regardless of the woman's skill as a lover, the prospect of Sheras robbing her entirely of her free will troubled her. To prove his point, the shadow had pointed out the shimmering silver chokers that encircle the throats of the humans that humble themselves before Sheras.

'Service does not trouble me,' the shadow had admitted. 'It is service to her that I find disagreeable. Allow me to assist you and I shall render myself to your service and bestow upon you a magnificent gift that shall aid you in your adventures.'

"That is one thing you and I have very much in common my strange friend, I cannot abide the thought of serving that woman" the rogue hissed, not much had changed since the creature had seen her last in Mira's chambers at Redclyffe, though she was much further from death and more capable in her own skills as a hunter.

"I see no reason to distrust you, after all you are merely a shadow and I am sure should I find myself in need of someone to banish you I would have no shortage of such skills here" her threats are empty but she knows that she must keep on her toes,not knowing much about the shadow figure.

She runs her fingers through her long blonde hair, still fastened in the simple braid she's worn since her time in Ganelon a warrior fashion that has served her well. "But tell me, I cannot simply call you shadow, surely you must have had a name at some time in your existence, if I am going to accept your aid, perhaps you might tell it".

Sheras had not only offered Alysa a place at her side but also resources to hunt down and destroy Mira Marlowe as the dark fae, despite their preference for the shadows, had nothing but loathing for vampires. This proposition had only been made more attractive by the sorceress, who is herself human, using her wiles to penetrate, both figuratively and literally, the rogue's resistances. For all her strength of will, she is still undone by her own appetites, giving in to the moment.

It had been the shadow that had intervened as Alysa lay recovering from the attentions of the sorceress. He had swiftly explained her predicament, as pleasant as it seemed at the time.

'She will not trust you unless you are under her complete control,' the shadow had rasped in its whispery voice, 'and the only assurance of that is through enchantment.'

Being the favorite pet of even so seductive a temptress does not entirely appeal to Alysa, regardless of how much the experience might be blissful. To be bound in one place or to one person has not, thus far, been her way. Even her alliance with the Nyctaloup had been conditional that, upon the death of Mira Marlowe, she would be free to go her own way if she so chose. Yet those delicate caresses upon her body, so tender yet so forceful, her body being claimed by the sorceress...

'This way,' the shadow urges. 'Once she knows you are missing, she shall send her servants after you. If you are very unfortunate, it shall be Gwyllion or Daerig and even I shall not be able to provide much assistance against them. And, if the Erymanthian himself decides to become involved...'

The words trail off much like Alysa's thoughts of that night. It is a rather sobering thought that the most sexually satisfying experiences of her life had been at the soft hands of wicked women and not entirely with her consent.

However, mention of those names brings about more vile thoughts. They had attacked so swiftly and rushed aboard the Zenith, led by a monstrous, brutish beast that resembled a mixture between a man and a terrible, diabolic boar. With its tusks, it had ripped through what few human crewmen that Sinclare employed and smashed apart the clockwork servants, who proved ill adept at fighting.

Alysa herself had been engaged by a lithe elven swordsman with an elegantly curved blade which he wielded with effortless mastery. During their duel, he had taunted her repeatedly but she had managed to hold her own, all while suspecting he had been toying with her. Nevertheless, Alysa had been distracted enough to allow a third enemy to flank her. This one, from what she had seen of him, had all the aspects of one of the fabled Dokkalfr or dark elves, a wicked people alleged to dwell beneath the mountains and engage in endless war with their more beauteous and benevolent kindred. A pair of curved swords to her throat had settled the fight swiftly and permitted the swordsman, who, oddly enough, seemed to be one of the very fae against which the dark elves were opposed to disarm Alysa. Twirling forward, the slender elven swordsman had bowed and then brought the handle of his blade down against her temple, knocking her out. When she had awoken, which was in itself a pleasant surprise, she had found herself bound and in a darkened chamber where she was soon joined by the sorceress. The woman had displayed concern for the lump on Alysa's scalp and then proceeded to take her mind off in a rather decisive manner.

'I am Karak Nul,' the shadow answers and, at the mention of its name, there is a brief flash of a glowing shape within the hood, that of a humanoid skull. 'You may address me in whatever way pleases you if you choose to be my mistress. There is little in this mortal world for which I harbor more hatred than those blood sucking cadavers and my service to Sheras would have ended once her dreadful allies decide she is not any longer of use to them. It is her status as nobility of the feylands that concern them. Once Lord Bodach has what he wishes, then he shall dispose of her and likely myself along with her.'

"Well, you have saved my life it seems and attempted to in the past, I see no reason why I should not accept, if only to prevent you from being destroyed by Bodach, after all I may be no saint but I know where I owe my debts and I pay them as best I can", she would rather not think of the events of the previous days, her wounded pride smarting more than any remaining injury she might have.

Alysa may have been many things in the past, but it seems that once again she has found herself on the run with the strangest of allies and in Mystykara of all places this time. She's cursed the loss of her weapons several times, feeling the loss of them more than the need of them. It has been a long time since she has been without them and she had to admit she felt almost naked.

She could almost hear the voice of her mentor chastising her for being disarmed so easily by the charms of the sorceress, he'd always told her that her eye for beautiful women would be her downfall, it seemed he was more right than he would ever know.

"You'll stay with me then Karak?" she asks, still using the goggles to follow the shape in the darkness. They were all that remained of her old life and it seemed as though that life was far behind her, at least for the moment. It was at that point the rogue lifted her hand and untied the braid from her hair. Her fight was over for now and the almost strange sensation of her blonde locks falling in soft waves around her face was enough to cause her a small smile.

The shadow had not needed to introduce Sheras but he had advised Alysa that she had already met the three chief allies of the sorceress, including Lord Bodach, the Erymathian. He is a shapeshifter who could alter his humanoid form into something far more terrifying as Alysa had witnessed and the shadow reveals that it was he who had corrupted Sheras by employing methods to feed upon her jealousy and ambition. That the shadow itself had been one of these methods, it tactfully neglects to mention.

The elven fencer had been Gwyllion, an outcast from his Mystykaran brethren who had once ruled a city on the highest summit of Altus, even commanding one of the most feared mythic beasts in Airethe, so long ago believed extinct as to be almost forgotten; a dragon. Arrogant and vain, Gwyllion could have struck her down without much resistance but, just as Alysa has suspected and the shadow confirmed, he had been toying with her.

It had been Daerig who had seized Alysa from behind and nearly decapitated her. He is truly one of the Dokkalfr but, not unlike Gwyllion, he had usurped the throne of his people and banished the dark elven princess. Dark elves, the shadow explains, lose much of their strength and mystical power in sunlight, which they can abide but with great discomfort.

What all of them have in common, besides their alliance with Sheras, is that they had all been, at one time, defeated by Luc Renard or, as he is better known, Ren of the Glen. The name Renard is familiar as Alysa can recall that one of the voices she had overhead the night she had been rescued from Redclyffe had been that of someone named Renard.

Renowned as a highwayman who robs only from the rich and shares his spoils with the impoverished, Renard is said to be of elven blood and has deep ties to Mystykara where, it is alleged, he had been raised. Because of this, he had never been fully trusted by Angalon society, despite his father being a nobleman in Ganelon who had, so the stories claim, been seduced by a faerie lover. The Nyctaloup had mentioned Renard as being one of his former companions, just as Captain Robur had been.

'I shall stay with you if you shall allow it, mistress,' the shadow replies, 'but my power wanes and fades without Lady Sheras. Soon I shall be diminished but, even in that capacity, I shall remain to assist you in what ways that I may.'

There had not been time for Alysa to raid the armory or recover her pistols, knives and swords. It is only her own stealth and guidance from the shadow that allowed her to escape so swiftly and, even then, without the goggles with which to see, she would have been lost.

'You are fortunate she had not yet marked you,' the shadow notes, 'or you might already have been her slave. Lord Bodach is using her power to build an army and her birthright to claim a crown in Mystykara but once he has it, he cannot permit Sheras to live. She would surely desire the power for herself and Lord Bodach would not tolerate competition. From anyone.'

"Do what you must then, I shall accept your gift and your assistance for as long as you can grant it to me. If it were not for you I shudder to think what would have happened to me on that night at Redclyffe, let alone here. It is good to have an ally, in any form and you shall always have my gratitude". The woman cannot help but wonder where the shadow is leading her, though the more distance between herself and Sheras the better for the moment, it would allow her a headstart and keep her always a few steps ahead of those hunting her. Though, if this terrain is any indication of the rest of Mystykara, there is no doubt that she could easily disappear here, never to be seen again among the wilderness.

"It is I who is in your debt my friend, please call me Alysa, I am not like the others and do not expect to be called mistress, you are trusted ally and companion, you are no slave and for as long you remain with me you shall never be again" she cannot imagine forcing her unlikely rescuer to serve her as he had the others, she would fear becoming like them with each passing day.

'It is my purpose and pleasure to serve, mistress,' the shadow assures Alysa as they continue along the stony mountain path that winds high above the forests below. One misstep and Alysa would surely plummet to her death so it is with utmost care they travel. Already they are more than a day away from the caverns from which she had escaped and she has not any way to account for how long she might have spent wandering in the darkness with only the whispers of the shadow in her ear. Even with the goggles, the tunnels were passageways of barren rock without any noticeable markings or landmarks to guide them. Fortunately, the shadow knows the way.

From there, it had been a gradual ascent, an arduous climb and much time as the shadow allows for Alysa to rest and regain her strength. The injuries she had sustained from her capture were minimal but she had still required a draught from one of Magda's magical potions to recover some vitality. Furthermore, a glaring oversight on behalf of the shadow had been that, while it does not require regular sustenance, Alysa does. Hunger had begun to set in and even the clean, crystalline snow she can consume to quench her thirst does not nothing to alleviate her appetite.

As a hunter, Alysa is able to locate some sparse nutrition from some of the plants that grow in the crevasses along the path but she has nothing with which to kill one of the birds that soar above her and there is not any sign of other wildlife at this altitude. The first night forces Alysa to find a cave to ward off the shivering cold, another sensation of which the shadow is ignorant.

By the third day, the hunger pangs are almost impossible to ignore and Alysa can feel her body tiring much faster but she forces herself onward as the shadow bids. When they finally reach another narrow cavern, the interior slickened with ice, the shadow murmurs something and flies past Alysa, disappearing down the length of the tunnel. There is little comfort it has been able to offer. It does not carry any food with it and has nothing with which to build a fire.

Likely frostbitten and starved, now Alysa is left alone in the dark of the strangely beautiful caverns where the walls shimmer with the patina of ice.

[8:34:16 PM] Layla Storm: Cursing herself for allowing this to happen Alyssa curls in on herself hoping to find some warmth. Her fingers went numb somewhere between last night and this morning and she knows that frostbite is setting in. She is woefully unprepared for such cold and is doing her best to find what little comfort she can.

She huddles against the wall of the cave, shivering. She knows if she stops then she will be in far more trouble than she already is. She can only hope for the best, surely she hasn't come all this way to die in some ice covered hole.

She brings her hands to her face and blows on them, hoping to restore even a little feeling to them, if something does not change soon she will have no problem being without her weapons for she would either have frozen or starved to death or at least lost a few of her frostbitten appendages.

'Mistress...' that shadowy voice echoes from somewhere in the darkness. 'This way...'

A shrill biting sound like a rush of wind through a narrow passage resounds along the walls and it takes a moment for Alysa to realize that the shadow is attempting to whistle. Regardless of the lack of melody, it neverthless provides her with something to guide her.

Alysa has not come all this way to die. She gets to her feet and follows the shadow's strange whistling, more determined than before to put up a new kind of fight. She will survive this cold, it's just slightly worse than the nights she's spent alone in the woods and she'll face many worse things than this if she remains in Mystykara, that is certain.

Then, all at once, Alysa shall feel her feet slide out from beneath her, sending her crashing onto her back and knocking the breath from her lungs. Before she can recover, she finds herself sliding rapidly down the icy sloped floor of the cavern. She begins to pick up momentum, only narrowly avoiding jutting jagged spikes of frozen stone that protrude from underneath the layer of frost.

If she had crampons or even a sturdy knife, Alysa might be able to break herself but her numbed hands cannot find any purchase and there is nothing to prevent her from rushing faster, her outer layer of clothes and her overcoat shredded by the friction. Suddenly she is airborne and falling through empty space without anything to grab onto to prevent her downward plunge. Had the shadow led her into a trap?

The air feels somehow warmer and very humid and Alysa splashes into the depths of a bluish pool of steaming water. Not only is the water very warm but the fact that she can distinguish color means that there is a light source, which proves to be the wide opening of a cavern at the top of a gentle upward grade from the thermal pool. Above her, nearly twice her height, is the lip of the ice slide that had brought her here. It would explain the constant rime along the walls of the ice cavern, where the humidity vents and slowly freezes due to the change in temperature.

Waiting patiently by the edge of the pool, which is just deep enough to have broken her fall but shallow to allow her to not swiftly sink to the sandy bottom, is the hooded shadow of Karak Nul.

'I believe we have reached our destination,' it comments in the same cold, hollow voice with which it always speaks.

As she realizes that for the first time in days she is warm she cannot help but laugh as she looks up and sees just how far she slid. She can think of far worse things that could have happened, but the comfort of the steaming water is a very nice change. "Well, it's not much but at least its warmer in here than it is out there! If you were....you know....I'd pull you in with me, but in you current state I doubt it would work" she teases, simply sitting in the water with a grin on her face.

For the moment she is grateful for her lack of weapons, for her pistol would not be as fond of the warm water as she is. Her back is slightly painful where she hit the ice, but short of a bruise or two she'll be all right, it's a far better prospect than freezing to death in the snow. She grins as she looks around, paddling over to the edge of the steaming pool. She's never been fond of water since her parent's death but in this case it beats the alternative.

'You look warm,' the shadow says with an unintentional edge of hunger in its voice. It draws slightly closer so that the hem of its cloak brushes the surface of the water. 'Once you are prepared, we may continue. I do not believe that even if Sheras or the others know of this place that they would believe it of any special significance or that there is anything of consequence to be found here. It is difficult to access and easily missed by all but those who travel by wind. There are a great number of birds in the marsh without but I shall remain here in the cavern lest my presence frighten them. I know you must be starved...'

Again, with the mention of her need to feed, it reveals its own deprivation.

Alysa nods, "The warmth of the water here helps, though how I'm to kill birds with no weapons is beyond me, but I shall do my best. Then once I've eaten we can figure out how to feed you...since I doubt of course that meat will suffice".

She reluctantly pulls herself from the warm water, having some feeling restored to her frozen limbs as she looks at the hovering creature. "After all, if you're going to be staying, I should at least learn what or rather how to feed you".

'My needs are negligible in comparison to yours, mistress,' the shadow assures Alysa. 'I cannot perish. At worst, I shall diminish until I fade. For the moment, it is your hunger that must be satiated.'

A frigid breeze bellows down the length of the wide cavern but it is still less bitter than the biting winds that had earlier tore at her. The weight of her sodden clothing is quite heavy but not so encumbering that is unable to move.

'I believe a woman of your resourcefulness shall devise some means of ensuring your survival. If you do perish here, then your remains shall be certain to have a peaceful tenure. I discovered this place quite by accident, many years ago.'

Alysa rolls her eyes "can we avoid talking about my death? I'm still recovering from my last two brushes with it and I've no inclination to entice a third. Just point me in the direction of the birds and I shall go see if I cannot successfully capture one or two".

She does after all have other skills beyond her weapons, if she is able to get close enough she may be able to strangle a few, it is worth a try if it keeps her from starving. And if she can't outsmart a few stupid birds perhaps she deserves to starve down here.

With one of those withered limbs, resembling an old dead branch of a diseased tree, that stick out from beneath the cloak, the shadow gestures towards the mouth of the cavern.

It is a slow ascent from the thermal pool to the top of the grade and the dank, humid air of the cave soon gives way to the sharp, bitter and somewhat unpleasant odor that emanates from outside. Before her is what looks to be a sprawling marsh, likely the remnants of a mountain pond that likely swells with water during the spring thaw. As winter has not yet retreated, there is still snow in some places but most of that has melted, adding to the rank aroma of rotting vegetation. Because of the sheltered walls of stone that surround the swamp and the elevation, there are not any lush green trees growing thickly together. Instead, there is a ramble of brambles and clumps of tall, yellow grass. A layer of slimy algae covers most of the surface of the murky water of this alpine bog. It would be a remote location to hide almost anything, especially bodies.

Nevertheless, just as the shadow had mentioned, there are the faint cries of egrets and the chittering of petrels who build their nests along the rocky walls and likely prey on the buzzing clouds of gnats. High overhead, there appear to be a rope bridge spanning the chasm in which this bog sits.

While there are not any trees, there are thorn bushes and other undergrowth that could be used to make snares. Alysa is uncertain what all might lurk in this environment but the narrow valley seems to span at least a great distance from where she stands, even if it is not especially wide. There must be something at least marginally edible here and already her keen eyes espy what might be wild carrots or leeks sprouting along the embankment of the marsh.

'I shall wait here,' the shadow says, not daring to stray too far outside as it clasps its long fingered claws together.

Alysa nods, gathering some of the thorn branches and crafting some simple snares, setting them before wandering off in the direction that she sees the possibly edible vegetation. If she can snare a rabbit or some other small game, it would be easy to stave off starvation for another night. Even a few of the small birds would suffice.

She wanders carefully along the edge of the marsh, making her way along the uneven footing of the muddy ground, unable to stop herself from wondering just what it is the shadow figure eats anyway. She can't imagine it would eat food like her, but it did seem interested when it realized she was warm...could it possibly be one of the types of creatures that she's head tell of so many times, that feed on the warmth of human bodies? If this is true she must decide whether or not she is willing to feed it or if she will simply let it waste away.

Hours pass as Alysa waits in that tranquil place. Once she becomes accustomed to the smell of the decaying peat moss, she may find it serene. It is relatively warm as there is not a breeze and the winds that howl through the peaks do not seem to reach this place. Along with some waterfowl and other birds, she will also hear the low lull of croaking frogs or toads and occasionally splashing. Here is a rather contained wilderness and that may mean limited options for food.

Foraging locates some small root vegetables, sorrel and other greens and even some tiny berries but, more than all of that, she is able to find a wealth of mushrooms growing in the shade of the thicket and along the base of the walls of the mountains. Her traps have not caught anything as yet but at least she is assured she shall not starve here, only be somewhat dissatisfied with her diet.

Night falls swiftly and the temperature drops sharply in that hideaway but, by that time, Alysa will have gathered plenty of dried grass and dead brambles to build a fire. Using some stones to create sparks, it requires an exhaustive effort but she is eventually successful. The bog is even quieter at night.

It may surprise Alysa when the shadow emerges and begins to give her, of all things, cooking instructions on the best way to roast the mushrooms on a stone near the coals as well as steam some of the root vegetables in a thin layer of mud before cracking open the hardened shell to feast on the now tender flesh. How such a creature may have learned anything about food preparation bids the question as to whether the shadow had always been so or if it had, at one time, been something else.

She can't help but smile at the creature as it emerges. She's curious about it more than anything, but she is grateful for even the strange company it gives her. She's even more surprised when the cooking tips it gives her create something rather delicious, although if she's being honest, the toads were starting to look appetizing in her deprived state.

Once she's eaten her meager meal she basks in the warmth of the glowing fire, debating on the most tactful way to bring up the questions that have been weighing on her mind. "I'm sorry I know you said your needs were far less important than mine, but I cannot help but wonder if there is some way to repay you for saving my life yet again, even if it is only to keep you from fading away. Besides, I have grown rather fond of your company and I would hate for you to waste away merely on my account".

'Perhaps in time,' the shadow replies ominously. 'In the morning, I shall take you to the place where I hid what I have promised you. You should rest. If you remain close to the cave, it should provide you a defensible position but there is nothing dwelling here that would intentionally harm you. I shall keep watch as I never require sleep.'

It floats in the air, the substance of shadow filling the flowing cloak with the peaked hood, its immaterial body trailing down to nothingness where there would be legs. Always are its eyes aglow and fixed upon Alysa, which might cause her to wonder if she is truly safe sleeping in its presence. However, she had done so before and rested unmolested. If this thing had intended her harm, it could have done so any number of times and yet perhaps it is simply waiting for a proper opportunity or for its hunger to become irresistible.

'You have nothing to fear from me,' the creature states, as if reading what might have been her musings. 'I exist to serve and, in service, I become stronger and more able to serve you, mistress. I shall not allow any harm to befall you as you sleep.'

"In time then" Alysa says with a nod, banishing her paranoid thoughts, after all if it truly meant to harm her it would have let her freeze to death. She simply curls up on the soft ground near the fire and sighs softly.

"Tomorrow is good, I've had a long day and the cold has taken its toll on me, perhaps I should stop rambling about unimportant things that trouble my curiosity and do as you suggest and get some sleep, you've yet to let anything harm me, I see no reason for you to begin now".

The fire provides enough heat and comfort for Alysa to manage an uneasy sleep. She had spent years finding hidden niches in alleyways and hunkering down in the cellars of abandoned buildings so it is not as though she is unused to being without the amenities. Not only that but she had gone nearly four days without any food and now, with her appetite somewhat abated, she has one less worry.

It is still dark when she awakens and, from deep within the ravine, Alysa can gaze upwards at the stars. The fire has dwindled to mere embers and there is not any sign of the shadow nearby. With her goggles on, she can scan the darkness before the creature abruptly appears directly in her line of sight, which may startle her.

Alysa flinches as the creature pops up in front of her. "Well, you certainly blend in don't you" she chuckles sarcastically as she pulls her goggles away from her eyes. She feels slightly more rested than she did which is a vast improvement especially without her body screaming for food.

She slowly rolls herself back into a sitting position and looks in the creature's direction. "Uneventful evening I hope?" she asks as a catlike stretch rolls through her lithe body, allowing her to adjust to her new position and being awake.

'You sound disappointed, mistress,' the shadow intones, its voice reminiscent of the wintry whisper of a slit throat. 'I advised you that there is nothing here that would intentionally harm you, other than myself. It has some time since I have been able to return to this place but it should still be here. I hid it too well for anyone to find it by happenstance. What became of her, however, I do not know.'

"Disappointed? Of course not, you're a...man? Shadow? Whichever you prefer of your word and I've had no reason to doubt you so far" she says, stretching once again. "Was this your home then my shadowy friend? The way you speak of it implies it was something more than a little hole to hide in". Her blue eyes are inquisitive still, though they seem black as the darkness that surrounds the unlikely pair.

'It shall be some time before sunrise,' the shadow replies. 'Even if your eyes can pierce the darkness, the marsh itself is dangerous. You must tread carefully lest it take you. There are places where the ground shall swallow you whole and you shall drown screaming. These are easier to see by day so we shall wait.'

It falls silent before adding solemnly, 'My home is with the one whom I serve. Where I have been or what I was is not of consequence in this matter. I shall take you where I promised.'

"Tell me of your past, call it a curiosity but I should like to know more about your past, after all you cannot always have been this way and as you say we have time until sunrise," she says before she realizes how she must sound "forgive me, if you do not wish to speak of it because it is painful then I understand, I shouldn't press the matter as I do, it must come from spending so much time among cutthroats and rogues, I often forget that not all creatures of the night are as talkative as its human children"

'I do not speak of it,' the shadow answers as its glimmering gaze shifts its unceasing stare to Alysa, 'because I do not remember it. It is unimportant. I have waited to find someone who would follow me to this place so that I might bestow these gifts to them. She would not have wanted them wasted and I am unable to utilize them properly in my present state.

'You may rest, mistress. It shall be some time before dawn.'

Alysa nods silently and lays back down. "Perhaps some day you will choose to tell me who she was my friend and I shall always be willing to listen to your tale" she bites back a yawn and before the creature can utter it's reply she's fallen back into a silent sleep.

As she sleeps, Alysa might dream of Apexis, the fabulous city built atop the highest summits of Altus. It is a sprawling settlement of white stone buildings and long walkways, constructed centuries ago by the fae of Mystykara. During the occupation of the Horogoth, Apexis had never fallen as the powerful magics that created it still protect it. It would require some manner of enchantment to be certain. She had visited the city briefly during her time aboard the Zenith, which calls Apexis its home port. As it is only approachable by airship or a very dangerous and arduous climb, Apexis is virtually unassailable from the ground. It is also the residence of one of the other members of the rescue party who had plucked Alysa from certain death at Redclyffe.

Madame Lupina Arseni is a former assassin who had worked for one of the many trade guilds that among the greater authorities in Angalon. The Queen commands the Council of Cardinals who, in turn, convey orders to the Lawgivers and Oathkeepers but those who control commerce are not without their own influence. In fact, as she grew older, Alysa came to realize that the guilds had almost as much power as the nobility and were driven only by the want of further gain, not any lofty ideals or principles. Consequently, they were not above hiring mercenaries or assassins to do their bidding instead of relying upon the law. In fact, often times, the attentions of the law is what they were trying to avoid.

Arseni had once been the guildmistress of the Red Widows, a group of female hired killers and courtesans who would leave many an amorous man dead in their beds by morning. Poison is her favorite method of executing her responsibilities and it had been Sinclare himself who had brought her to justice. His brass heart, which Alysa learned is not merely a metaphor, prevented him from falling victim to her venom.

Now older and wiser, having spent many years in rehabiliation, Madame Arseni acts a shadowy intercessor between the enforcers of law and the less reputable or nefarious. Having converted wholeheartedly to the faith, the madame is intolerant of those who followed her former lifestyle but she is still not without some questionable habits. From the conversations that Alysa overheard between Arseni and Sinclare, the middle aged woman carries a very brightly burning torch for the Nyctaloup, who is himself entirely dispassionate but not unaware.

To Alysa, Madame Arseni had been cool at first but eventually become friendlier, treating Alysa like a long lost daughter. In truth, the two women have a great deal in common and soon were sharing jests at the expense of the decidedly unamused Leonares Sinclare. Lupina had confided in Alysa that the younger blonde reminded the older woman of herself, though with at least a few more scruples than Madame Arseni had at that age. As a parting gift, she had given Alysa a special dagger with a hollow channel in the blade for injecting whatever fluid might be placed inside. She also advised Alysa not to mention the gift to Sinclare, who would likely not approve.

That dagger, along with all of her other weapons, some of her clothing and more of her dignity and composure had been stripped away from Alysa during her brief but eventful imprisonment in the bowels of the mountains.

A smile spreads across the sleeping woman's face as the memories take over her dreams. The rest of her friends may have been captured, but Alysa can always find them in the many memories she gathered during her time with them. Even in such peaceful dreams she feels a tinge of guilt, for just as Captain Brawne had predicted, even with the Nyctaloup's help, her revenge had led her friends into danger.

A rescue mission is fruitless, even the younger one in her dreams knows this. She will surely end up back in the clutches of Sheras or more likely, the vampiress Mira. She can only follow the strange shadow figure and accept the gift it offers, perhaps begin anew here in Mystykara and should the chance arrive in the future to save her friends, then she will take it. But Alysa has learned from her experiences and will not go looking for a hopeless fight to avenge them.

Her time in Apexis had been restful and such an exotic location might inspire Alysa to visit again. The shadow had offered to lead her back there, though it is a long journey and they shall likely be pursued. Other options included going east and further into the forests of Mystykara, where she also might find some assistance, or southward to the plains that lay on the borders of Landerangst and Angalon, with Ganelon being less than a week west from that point. In any event, Alysa would not last long unarmed and unguarded in the mountains, even with her modest survival skills. Is it truly better to die free than live in captivity?

The shadow watches over Alysa as she sleeps. It also has some risk involved in this venture but it is calculated. Glas Bodach would have disposed of the shadow just as soon as he no longer needed it to control Sheras, who is herself likely doomed. Being a descendant of the legendary Adora, one of the key figures in the liberation of Airethe from the Horogoth, Sheras has the blood of heroes and that is precisely why Lord Bodach had sought to corrupt her. Still, she is willful and arrogant woman due to her birthright and she would not so easily share her power with Bodach. Fortunately, even though she had become increasingly difficult for the shadow to manipulate, he still had some sway and when he had offered to guard the new prize claimed by the sorceress, none other than Alysa herself, it had been certain to not specify just how or where it would look after the blonde. Thus, here they are.

One of the principles which guide its actions, of which Mira had been ignorant and Sheras had not originally considered, is that it has its own agenda and desires and its apparently unquestioningly slavishness is merely a means to an end. Far from owing any particular loyalty to Alysa, the shadow is simply using her as it has used others. Even so, the shadow considers the potentials of a partnership with the blonde rogue and relishes the possibilities.

Alysa stirs from her dream and inquisitive blue eyes flutter open once again. She needs to make a plan or she will surely die out here, despite whatever gifts the shadow intends to bestow on her. That much has been made plain to her over the past days. Almost freezing to death gives you a remarkable clarity.

She could always find her way back to Ganelon, that is certain, but a greater question weighs on her. Is there truly anything left for her Angalon? Her friends are captured, likely dead or worse, she has no family there nor does she have any property that would need tending. Perhaps the future for the blonde rogue lies here in Mystykara after all.

She had dreamed of these lands as a child and her eyes had grown wide when Brawne revealed he had traveled here and now she finds herself standing in the very place of those dreams. The woman may not believe in fate and predestination, but in her short life she has never once come across something as rare as a coincidence. She will ask the shadow to lead her back to Apexis, if it chooses to stay with her longer than she will be glad for the ally.

The sun has risen high enough above the horizon that some dim illumination filters into the ravine, the sky little more than a narrow slit over which spans the rope bridge. Still, Alysa can remove her goggles and still see. It remains very cold here as the warmth of the day has not yet found its way into the bog.

Once again, the air stirs with the sounds of the other denizens awakening. Birds call out dolefully across the wetlands and small frogs croak and squeak. A quick accounting of the snares she had laid proves that either the creatures that dwell in this marsh are too savvy to be caught by simple traps or just not large enough to be properly entangled. A few of them appeared to have been tripped but are otherwise empty. So much, it seems, to hope for meat for breakfast.

Yet there are still the roots and mushrooms and there are still patches of snow that yield clean water. The murky mixture in the marshes does not appear especially appealing and the bubbling liquid of the thermal pool is laden with minerals, some of which still cling to her clothes. It seems like years ago rather than days when she was enjoying finely prepared and elegant meals at the home of Madame Arseni, all while gazing out at the green expanse of Mystykara from the vantage of more than a mile above.

'We shall wait until the sun is directly above,' the shadow explains. 'Only in that way shall you be able to see the path that shall allow you to cross the wetlands. One misstep and you shall be lost.' Without any feet to touch the ground, the shadow, of course, need not be worried about sinkholes or quicksand in this quagmire.

Alysa is almost unnaturally agile, so she has no worries about being able to follow the path the shadow speaks of. She allows herself another catlike stretch before setting about checking and resetting the empty snares she'd made the previous day, perhaps if she is lucky there will be a creature or two trapped in them should she return this way.

She gathers up a meager but pleasant breakfast of the roots and mushrooms she gathered the previous night, working the fire back from its dying embers and cooking them as the shadow had shown her. It is not much, but after days of starvation it is better than nothing at all, even the cool clear water of the melted snow tastes sweet.

She's certain she must look like a mess, perhaps untying her hair was a bit premature, though if she really thinks about it and the need arises she could always use the mud to cover up the almost white blonde of her hair should she need to disguise herself.

There follows a stillness. The shadow is not especially talkative most of the time, simply content to hover there, bedecked in its splendid cloak which had been given to it by Sheras after she had acquired the rat skull that now serves as the clasp. While the sorceress had claimed that Mira and her gang of monstrosities were enemies, the shadow had advised Alysa that Mira had, in fact, approached Bodach at the behest of her mistress, Lady Darclau, who had become something of a secret ruler of the Frightlands in the absence of any other strong authority in the area. In exchange for assisting Bodach in his conquest of Mystykara, Lady Darclau wanted to forge alliance that would allow her to take control of Angalon as it had long been her intent to become queen.

Alysa might had been amused by the response from Bodach and his dark fae servitors and may even wish she had been there to witness it as the Erymanthian had not only rejected the offer but almost immediately challenged Mira for having the audacity to intrude upon his domain. As the shadow is unable to reflect mirth in its sepultural whisper, it nevertheless somehow still conveys delight at the confrontation that forced Mira into a hasty retreat while most of her ghoulish minions were cut down covering her escape.

If not for the fact that Alysa would have been reduced to a slave to the sorceress, she might have considered joining her side. However, war against Mystykara isn't necessarily on Alysa's list of things she wishes to accomplish in her lifetime. Besides, the shadow assures her that Bodach will fail just as he has in the past, while at the same time noting that his persistance is as admirable as it is foolish.

Alysa is in no hurry to be a slave to anyone and certainly not Sheras. She may have been an interesting and sometimes even fun lover, but Alysa will never surrender her freedom, it means far too much for her and she has come through so much to retain it.

The shadow's silence does not bother her as she has grown used to it over the past few days of travel. She simply watches the creature between bites of the cooked vegetation she's scavenged from the marsh around them. "You're fond of that cloak she gave you aren't you?" she asks, more for the sake of her own curiosity than wanting to break the amicable silence between them. "You're only slightly less intimidating this way, but it's easier to see you so I suppose it's a trade-off".

Alysa can recall the almost nude men and women gathered around the elaborate throne that Sheras had occupied when her dark fae servants had brought the blonde rogue before the sorceress. Each of them wore a silver collar to compliment their iron bound harnesses or corsets and each collar was connected by a slender silver chain that was attached to rings along the armrests of the throne. They would mewl for the woman's attention and sigh contentedly as Sheras would pet them. That, according to the shadow, would have been the fate of Alysa once Sheras had gotten what she wanted from her. It would have been blissful, ignorant slavery. None of her thralls seemed tortured or injured and Sheras appeared to pamper them as she might a favored pet. Regardless of how pleasurable her moment had been with Sheras, Alysa may not find the theft of her will to be the sweet release it is for those slaves.

'It is a matter of practicality,' the shadow explains. 'I require a covering if I am to travel in the light and my essence is bound to it. I am not any more fond of it than you would be of your own skin and just as loathe to be rid of it, I do believe. It is not a matter of enjoyment; I cannot be rid of it and it cannot be rid of me.'

The shadow lifts its eyes upwards towards the heavens and slides further back into the faint shadows along the walls of the ravine.

Alysa nods, falling back into silence as she sits in front of the fire. The warmth is welcome as opposed to the chill of the previous nights on the mountain. Her memories of Sheras and her slaves are unpleasant but she knows that like the memories of Redclyffe faded, these will as well. She simply needs to find a task to put her mind to that will distract her from dwelling upon them.

For now that is the path ahead of her for the day and the possibility of making it back to Apexis, surely should she find the urge arising she can find another band of misfits to fall in with and another way to use her skills. Perhaps even find some of her old friends there and find work as an assassin. Or should she tire finally of her life of adventure she could settle down, learn a trade and live a quiet life, the back up plan that Athan had told her about her first night aboard the Othello. The possibilities for her were literally endless, Mystykara presented a fresh start for her, regardless of what she has endured in her past.

Once more, as though infiltrating her mind, the shadow comments, 'Apexis is not so far from here. It shall still be many days of travel but, with that which I have hidden, you may make the journey that much swifter. You may not know of this of the city in the clouds but Apexis is the construct of the ancient fae whose descendants inhabit Mystykara. It is the site where it is believed the division between the Alefhar and the Dokkalfr transpired and it was once known as the stronghold of the Stormborne. The fae of Mystykara are attuned to the elements.'

If it is privy to her other musings, the shadow declines to comment. Madame Arseni had not spoken well of her time as an assassin, which, unlike the life of a mercenary who lives from battle to battle, required her to have an utter disregard for the lives of others. Furthermore, once a member of an assassin's guild, Alysa would be required to perform various undertakings regardless of her personal feelings on the matter. In one instance, Madame Arseni had balked at the slaughter of a nobleman's infant child and the guild had punished her by forcing her to drink poison that caused a permanent reduction in her vitality. To leave the guild means that she had been marked for death and thus had been compelled to hunt and murder all her former compatriots. In this endeavor, she had received assistance from Sinclare and others.

However, settling down in one place with one profession would likely never suit Alysa while she is yet young and adventurous. There is so much more to explore and encounter. In her short life, she has not yet experienced the wonders of Mystykara or the terrors of the Frightlands, let alone seek out what may lay beyond the distant horizon. Captain Robur and his crew share her enthusiasm and once more she may be reminded of their situation as possible captives.

She grits her teeth against the thought, if she allows such things to dictate her thinking neither they nor she will be better for it. As much as she longs to free her friends, she cannot do it alone, she has to gather up more than just a shadow as her ally. She will go to Apexis and do what she can to save her friends but she will not put more people in danger to do so.

She eyes up the shadow once again, though a valuable ally in its own right, it is no match for the slaves of Sheras. She shakes off the thought for a moment and tries to fill her mind with something more pleasant, like her curiosity over who the mysterious woman the shadow speaks of is and what could have possibly passed between them so long ago.

Once again, the shadow is silent, simply hovering there and withdrawing further and further into what little gloom remains as the sun climbs higher into the sky. As it becomes ever slightly warmer, the chirping of insects grows louder and the swarms of flies become thicker which soon bids the presence of birds swooping and whirling overhead as they feast. Had she a bow, a rifle or even some decent stones, Alysa might be able to strike one of them from the air for a decent meal.

'It is time,' the shadow says at last, its hooded head tilted upwards, The shining orb has just begun to peek over the peaks above them and shine down more directly into the ravine. 'Quickly. You have little time. This way.'

WIth that, the shadow begins to float towards the marsh, pausing at the edge of the water. 'There are a series of large stones and boulders submerged here. You will likely not remain dry but if you exercise caution, you should manage to negotiate them quickly enough.'

Alysa nods and jumps to her feet, following the creature to the edge of the water, she can almost see the outline of the boulders in the dark water in front of them. It should be easy enough to maneuver over them, though the shadow was right, she wouldn't be dry by the end of this trek.

She takes a tentative step forward, aiming for the boulder directly in front of the shadow, finding herself once again grateful for the agility that has served her so well in the past and seems poised to do so again.

Once she has settled her weight on the first stone she deftly makes her way across the marsh, jumping from stone to stone across the water, occasionally splashing into it when the water is deeper than she expects but she manages to keep her head above water, remembering the shadow's warning. She cannot afford to focus on anything except the task at hand and for the moment she is grateful for the respite from her troubled thoughts.

The rocks are very slippery, damp and covered in layer of algae. It requires Alysa to muster all her agility to make her slow progress, all while the shadow hovers above the deceptively solid looking islands of mud covered by a concealing layer of thick grasses and the seemingly shallow pools of dark water where the muck tries to suck the boots off her feet in one instance where she nearly falls in.

Soon, and despite her best efforts, Alysa is covered in a sticky film of slime that clings to seeps into her clothes and sticks to her hair. It is not only reeking but cold, like the way she would expect slug mucus to feel. It is a steady and tedious path. If she were larger and stronger, she might just stride heedlessly through the midst of the marsh or if she could fly, simply glide over it much as the shadow does.

Around her, the bog spreads out to the walls of the ravine, a fetid yellowish green. She finds herself beset by flies, which try to fly down into her windpipe or crawl into her ears or lick the saline moisture from her eyes. They are likely drawn by the stench of the swamp upon her but the shadow silently sweeps towards Alysa and the flies instantly disperse.

She is what she estimates to be halfway across the bog when the shadow hisses strange words and Alysa will feel something serpentine slither around her leg. At first, she might assume it is some kind of water snake, possibly even venomous, but when she looks down to see the sticky, pink length of flesh, she will realize it is connected to the enormous maw of a monstrous toad the size of a massive dog. Its head is just above the surface of the peat stained waters and it gives a great tug in an attempt to pull her in.

She glares at the shadow as she realizes what's happened. Curse its sudden but inevitable betrayal!

She struggles against the monster's pull, trying to free her leg from its grasp. She should never have trusted that shadow and ditched it the moment she had gotten out of Sheras's dungeon. Now she's going to be eaten by a giant toad in some disgusting marsh in the middle of nowhere. She'd sell her soul for a weapon about now, preferably something sharp as the pistol she favours will not work under the current conditons. But in situations like this wishes will get you killed and she tries to struggle free of the toad's monstrous tongue.

'Remain calm,' the shadow rasps as its eyes narrow at Alysa, apparently gloating at her fate but then it moves past her and, just as she is about to be yanked off the boulder, the shadow makes a sharp upward gesture with its long fingered claw and the toad's fanged mouth slams shut, severing its tongue. The sudden end of tension might causes Alysa to tumble forward into the water with a splash. Fortunately, she is close enough that she can rapidly cling to the stone on which she had been standing and turn her head in time to see the toad.

The shadow is hovering above it and before the freakishly large amphibian can submerge, the ghostly being plunges its claws effortlessly into the sides of the toad's head. There are not any wounds as the immaterial touch of the shadow is unimpeded by flesh. The effect on the toad, however, seems almost worse for it as the creature gives out a burbling, croaking cry of unmistakable agony, its bulbous eyes rolling back into its head as the severed stump of its tongue lolls out of its wide jaws. With a terrible finality, the giant toad slowly sinks back into the mire and the shadow leisurely floats back towards Alysa.

'I did not detect its presence in time to prevent its attack,' the shadow states, almost apologetically. 'There is not any forgiveness for my error, mistress. All I may do is endeavor to serve you more alertly in the future.'

"The fault is at least half my own for not being more alert, we could both do to be more alert" she says, catching her breath as the toad sinks back into the mud. It seems she should not be so quick to judge the shadow, for it seems it's betrayal was not intentional and therefore not a betrayal at all.

She pulls herself back to her feet on the boulder and looks around. Now that she knows what's out there she will be less likely to be taken by surprise the next time. She scans the marsh carefully, looking for any sign of danger before hoping to the next. "No harm done, we must just both be more careful next time it seems".

'There was not such a creature when last I ventured here,' the shadow answers gravely. It is still rather close to Alysa and she can feel the waves of unnatural cold emanating from it. A rather sudden urge to flee from it seizes her but she is able to reason it away with her belief that the shadow does not presently intend her any harm. Still, its proximity is rather unnerving and it seems to realize this as it withdraws from her slightly.

'Only a while further, mistress,' the cloaked shadow maintains, retreating into the gloom that is cast by the angle of the ravine. What the creature had told her was true. Without the direct sunlight, she would not be able to make out the dark shapes of the boulders amid the greenish brown waters but, properly illuminated, she can perceive the path the shadow had indicated, giant toads notwithstanding.

Alysa nods again "it seems many things change with time, you can hardly be faulted for that". She looks ahead and jumps to the next boulder, shaking off the urge to flee from the shadow by keeping some space between them.

"Not that I've ever seen a toad that large myself" she chuckles, before jumping to the next rock, slowly picking her way through the swamp. "I trust your directions and you, forgive me for thinking you would lead me into a trap".

Without comment, the shadow continues to direct the way. The truth of the matter is that it had already led her into a trap, one of its own devising. By offering its loyalty to Alysa, it has ensnared her and even know its schemes of ways to manipulate the blonde to do its bidding, all while maintaining the pretense of servitude.

As Alysa draws closer to the other side, the brush begins to dwindle, leaving more and more open areas of water but, unless her eyes are mistaken, it becomes clearer and soon she can hear the rush of the small waterfalls that trickle down the far walls of the ravine, feeding into the bog. The cascades are large enough to allow her to wash away some of the grime and effluvia that still clings to her, if she so wishes. Here, in particular, she must take care to navigate the rocks as the ponds are deeper and even with the sunlight, Alysa cannot see the bottom.

Finally, Alysa, following the shadow, reaches an outcropping of rock that lies between two of the burbling waterfalls and she is able to rest at last. The ground is solid enough so long as she stays away from the embankment and the clear, cold rivulets that tumble down from above appear refreshing. Snow clusters around what soon proves to be an avalanche of stones from some long ago rockslide.

Taking advantage of the waterfalls to at least rinse the grime out of her hair and off her clothes she then pulls herself off onto the ledge and sits on the rocks near the shadow. If she suspects its true motives she says nothing about them, keeping her own thoughts to herself.

It's rather nice here even if she cannot see the bottom of the ponds she is sure that should something try to sneak up on her she would once again be caught unaware. She decides rather than replaiting her hair she will simply pull it behind her head and fasten it there with the scrap of fabric she had retied around her wrist. The soft curl of the many months spent plaited still hang from the ends of the damp ponytail, but until it dries it is at least off of her face.

The shadow once more waits while Alysa tends to herself, seeming to anticipate her needs. By now, her clothes are entirely a loss. They are so stained by the waters of the marsh as well as her perspiration and grime. Her trousers have torn along the seam on one thigh and her boots are full of mud. Only her chain mail shirt is not any worse for wear, though without being properly dried it may eventually rust. The sodden weight of her overcoat clings to her, completely saturated. Dampness is not conducive to warding off the chill of the mountain air either and now that she is not moving, it begins to creep in around her, raising goose pimples on her flesh.

Alysa pulls off her chain shirt, there is no use carrying more weight and she cannot afford to lose what little armor she has to rust. She works through her clothing, taking an inventory of what can either be salvaged or disposed of for lack of a better option.

The remains of her topcoat are the first to go, discarded on the rocks with a sigh. She was rather fond of her clothing, but one must do what they can to survive. The torn pants she can deal with for the moment, but she will need to build a fire to dry herself. The boots, well those can be cleaned and dried with enough time and the running water of the falls to help her.

She looks to her companion and smiles "I'm sure I look a little worse for wear, but I'm all right, I assure you that much". She knows the creature would know as much for it had faithfully kept watch over her day and night since their escape but she felt like she should reassure it, especially after its lapse with the toad, she could tell it felt bad about that, if such a thing were even possible for a shadow.

Nodding, the shadow turns towards the rockslide and raises up its skeletal arms. Suddenly, the stones begin to shift and a particularly large one attempts to tug itself free from its smaller brethren, causing a tumble of pebbles to rain down along the ravine. Slowly, the boulder, grinding against the surrounding rocks, pulls forward. More of the avalanche crumbles, several sizeable stones crashing down past Alysa.

Alysa manages to roll out of the way of the large rocks that crash past her. Just barely missing a couple of the larger ones. Apparently shadows, though powerful cannot predict just where stones are going to fall when they mess with them. She shakes the dirt off her still damp clothes and gets to her feet, looking to see just what the shadow had done.

At last, the shadow lowers its arm as the boulder rolls aside, revealing what looks to be a rather low, cramped tunnel.

'It is well hidden,' the cloaked creature explains simply before hovering down to the ground and disappearing into the hole, which is wide enough that Alysa could likely squeeze her lithe body through it. It is not wrought of dirt but rather collapsed stone and there is not any assurance as to its structural integrity. For all she knows, Alysa could follow the shadow in what might prove to be her tomb.

Shrugging to herself Alysa follows the shadow, after all he had not led her into harm, at least intentionally,yet. The space is cramped, but she's not a large woman and is used to fitting into spaces where most people would not. She cannot help but be curious as to what could possibly require such stealth and secrecy to hide.

Inside the hole, there is only occasional light, requiring Alysa don her goggles to see what lies ahead. She can watch the cloaked figure as it descends further into the rockslide until finally reaching what looks to be a makeshift chamber. Sparse illumination penetrates the cavern through spaces in the stone walls and dust hangs thickly in the air, a powdery layer forming over Alysa's still damp form.

There appears to be nothing there but the shadow, whose smaller, amorphous shape allow its to hover while Alysa herself must remain crawling on all fours to avoid bumping her head, points to a pile of stones inside the cave.

'There,' it says solemnly.

Alysa crawls over to the pile of stones, barely illuminated by her dark goggles. All this way for a pile of stones? She looks back over her shoulder at the hovering creature, wondering what in the name of Airethe she's discovered. Against her better judgment she slowly begins to move the stones from their pile, silently hoping she doesn't uncover something gruesome like a corpse, though judging by the dust there would be little more than bone left to begin with.

There, buried under a layer of grime and dust, is a scabbard in which there appears to be some kind of sheathed sword, the handle of which is wrapped in tattered cloth. Nothing is immediately remarkable about the objects but the shadow simply stares ceaselessly as Alysa unearths the weapon.

She looks back at the shadow, feeling it staring at her despite its lack of eyes. She unrolls the tattered cloth and exposes the blade of the sword, she knows that it must be ancient but that is no reason to assume it does not hold an edge. "It's beautiful" she says as she examines it, and it's true, the workmanship even on the handle with it's age, is impeccable. Alysa would be proud to wield such a weapon.

The rapier is wrought of silvery metal that glimmers faintly as electricity dances up and down its length. However, when Alysa pulls away the cloth, she will realize that not only does it cover only the handle but it is not simply rags. Something rattles inside of it and, in her attempts to unravel it, causes small yellowed bits of bone to tumble out as well as a shiny silver ring that appears to be crafted of the same material as the rapier. It is not a cloth but, in fact, the remains of a glove and, if Alysa is not mistaken, one that still had a hand inside it.

'He did that to her,' the shadow explains gravely. 'When she raised her hand against him, he laughed and before she could react...'

The shrouded creature pauses. 'I attempted to hold him off long enough for her to escape but he proved more capable than I. My body came to rest here as well but I was not yet entirely dead. I managed to crawl into the depths beneath the mountains and there I expired. My soul would not rest and it remained with my remains. After all, I remember nothing until I found myself fashioned into a clasp around the throat of the mistress of the one you know as Mira. She had sensed there was something mystical about me but she could not divine my secrets. So she kept me as a kind of charm and eventually pass me along to Mistress Marlowe.'

Alysa bites back a whimper of disgust, she should have known there would be something gruesome to this adventure. She picks up the ring and places the bones gingerly back into the tattered cloth.

"a rat...' she whispers, "of course, that wasn't just any rat skull, that was your skull, you were a rat". Everything clicks into place at his words, here she had thought he was a man but instead some kind of rat creature similar in a way to the ones she'd seen in the sewers of Viktoron although clearly capable of some kind of intelligence.

"You cared for her didn't you?" she asked, " that's why you tried to keep him away isn't it? You were more than just a rat..."

The shadow sags beneath its cloak, its bony arms fall limply to its sides.

'I had vowed to assist her,' it whispers, 'but I failed in my duties. I do not know what became of her. Perhaps he killed her or perhaps she continued to flee from him. I doubt he would have slain her as that would have ended his enjoyment with one of his favorite toys.'

The slim sword continues to shed its enchanted light, crackling softly, emitting the scent of ozone. At Alysa's feet, the ring seems to gleam with its own radiance as well.

'She was of the Stormborne,' the shadow explains, 'descended from the architects that constructed the city in the clouds. I first encountered her in the wilds of Mystykara...'