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	[Shifters] Intro - Cousins: Prytzouth & Maurkel
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	The psi-hounds were fast approaching; he could feel their 
probing.  They were grotesque creatures, only vaguely expressing the
thin cainine blood that ran through their veins, but they were more 
dangerous than any pitbull.  Methodically, they searched the area for 
any sign of physical or mental passing with only one desire in their 
hearts, bloodlust.  Where they originated, Prytzouth could not tell, 
perhaps they were the watchdogs of some crazed magician, but he knew that 
this pack's master had long ago passed on.
	He concentrated on his defense, hide.  He would rather elude 
these freaks of nature than face their intelligent, single-mindedness, 
let alone face them in open physical battle.  One, two, three, four...  
He counted the signature probing of each of the beasts.  They were 
definitely bold, and their tactics were easily eluded; they were driving 
him.  It was an ancient way of hunting and very effective.  Prytzouth 
couldn't stay put and hide, couldn't find a hole in their front to slip 
through, and he couldn't move too quickly; he needed to keep his head, he 
couldn't panic.  One thought couldn't escape him during this monotonous 
push, how many others were waiting at the ambush?
	The psi-hounds were getting excited, their probing came with 
greater frequency, greater strength; the ambush was near.  Pritzouth 
could imagine the short battle for his life.  Teeth ripping into his 
limbs, closing around his neck.  No!  He couldn't let it happen.
	::There are only four here,:: he thought, although not 
comfortingly.  ::Could I pass for one of them?::  Yet, he knew the answer 
to that question.  Although the psi-hounds weren't really true cainines, 
they possessed the same mode of recognition and identification, scent.  
He could never immitate it without previous study.  The psionic signature 
wouldn't be that hard to immitate, but the physical required a little 
more first-hand knowledge.
	He dared not take to the air, the gale that ripped at the trees 
would do likewise to him.  Besides, it was blowing straight into the 
ambush; if he could take flight, he could only hope to fly with the 
wind.  ::Damn!  I underestimated these beasts!  What twisted individual 
ever could create such things!?::
	::I'll have to fight here,:: he concluded as he found a likely 
position for defense, the crest of a small hill surrounded only by open 
forest floor.  He looked with dismay around him, no cover.  Not one 
single bush; yes, the hill was the best choice.  Slowly, he drew his 
bastard sword and began repeating a single word to himself, ::Dari, Dari, 
Dari,...::
	A blood-curdling bay ripped through the wind tossed forest; it 
sent shivers down Prytzouth's back.  ::Dari, Dari, Dari,...::  He could 
see them approach, their furless, muscled bodies rippling as they charged 
forward to their prey.  At least they didn't have to share the spoils of 
this hunt with the rest of the pack!  He drew on their confidence, played 
with it. Feigning a paniced probe for help, he set the hook deep into the 
lips of their bloodlust.
	They attacked!  A barriage of psionic assults hit his wall.  He 
could feel them try to manipulate his thought, and he could feel their 
frustration as their assults fell impotent.
	"You have met your match, you currs!" he screamed as the hounds 
covered the last stretch of forest.  He raised his sword and waited for 
the first physical attack.
	The lead psi-hound leaped into the air, sending an image of 
ferocity that only the mind could comprehend.  It expected the prey to 
crumble with fear, only to find a sword flash through it's throat. 
Prytzouth side-stepped and watched the body fall to the ground.  The 
other psi-hounds hesitated, seeing their leader fall so easily.   
Prytzouth glared at them with a snarl in his throat and grinned.  He had 
played his first card, and won; now it was their move.
	The hounds looked on warily and angrily.  This wasn't going 
according to plan!  Yet, they had experienced similar battles with 
other powerful psionists and won, and they still had one large advantage, 
numbers.  Slowly, they circled their prey and projected mirror images of 
themselves.  Prytzouth grinned as he saw their ploy and slowly turned in 
defensive circles.  ::Dari, Dari, Dari,...::
	Confident that the human didn't know their true location, they 
attacked!  One fell instantly to his sword, as the other two leaped 
towards him.  They only found air.  Prytzouth appeared behind the rear 
psi-hound and cut it down from behind.  The remaining beast growled at 
the human, spun and bolted past him baying and projecting messages to the 
ambush group.  ::DAMN!::
	Pritzouth turned and ran.  Calling on speed and agility that only 
the gifted could, he covered the ground quickly.  ::Dari, Dari, 
Dari...::  The probes came, and he could feel the anger and vengance 
behind them, and then he felt a familiar probe...
	"No," he breathed in stunned amazement.  "No, it couldn't be..."  
The probe locked on to him with skill not present in the psi-hounds, and 
it directed them.  Prytzouth screamed with frustration, but kept up with 
his defense.
	A form materialized before him, as if suddenly painted by an invisible 
brush, and Prytzouth stopped.  "YOU!" he spat venomously.
	"::DARI::" the form spoke and projected silmultaneously.  The 
wall shattered, and Prytzouth used all his strength to keep his sanity 
together.  Gripping his head from the pain, he dropped to one knee and 
glared at the figure before him.  It was a human male, dressed in a black 
robe, sporting a vicious grin.  His black hair was streaked with grey 
and his yellow eyes fixed on Prytzouth.
	"How did you know?" asked Prytzouth behind clenched teeth, his 
knuckles white around the hilt of his sword.
	"Simple," replied the man.  ::I could always read your 
thoughts.:: he replied telepathically.  The baying of the hounds grew 
louder,  and Prytzouth shifted his glare behind him and then to the man 
again.
	"Murderer!" he spat.
	::Bah! What is murder but another form of income, one we 
profited greatly on?:: he replied telepathically.
	::You knew I loved her!  You knew that if anything happened to 
her, I'd...::
	::You'd WHAT!?  Kill your partner, your best friend?!::
	::Don't ever call me that again, Maurk.  You lost your partner 
and friend when you took the contract.::
	::Then Prytz, you'll die alone.  You're choice.::
	"Then I'll die, but not alone," he declaired softly behind 
clenched teeth an drew his sword in a cutting motion toward Maurk's 
throat!  Maurk stepped back and drew his own sword pommel up as he spun 
into the cut; the back of his fist connected with Prytzouth's chin as he 
continued the spin to complete the block.  Prytzouth assulted his 
thoughts trying to confuse him, but Maurk was prepared for this, 
repeating his own Wall of the Word.
	They knew each other's moves well.  The countless hours they 
spent training together also gave them implicit knowledge of each other's 
styles and tricks.  Sword verses sword, mind verses mind, one could not 
have found a more even match or a more deadly combination.
	Prytzouth felt teeth sink into his calf and begin to tear.  The 
psi-hounds!  As he went down he saw only hairless bodies pounce on Maurk 
and himself.
	"MAURK!!!" he screamed as he tried to rise and cut away the 
bloodlusted beasts.  A moment later, he looked up to see his ex-partner 
floating above him grinning; claws and teeth ripped into his arms and 
legs.  He felt a weight press him to the ground; his arms felt heavy.  
"No, you bastard!"
	As the teeth and claws raked his body and sank into his shoulder, 
Prytzouth fixed his mind on an image of a place, one he remembered from a 
trip long ago.  It was the image of a bar with a friendly looking keeper, 
one that seemed old and yet looked young...

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*
	
	It was late in the night; the Inn was full of customers.  Song 
and laughter rang merrily throughout the bar.  By the hearth a bard was 
weaving a tale of mystery and magic.  The barkeeps were busy rushing 
orders to tables, almost too busy to notice a new figure materialize on a 
bar stool if it weren't for the poor lady who's lap it appeared on.  
Screaming hysterically, she struggled under the weight of a large, bloody 
man.  Two patrons next to her caught the limp figure as he slid off her 
lap and gently set him down on the floor.
	A man rushed to the woman's side and wrapped his arms around her, 
guiding her toward the door.  She babbled incessantly between sobs about 
why she didn't *ever* go out with her husband, the one comforting her, 
"...because this is exactly what happens!  And you call these people your 
friends?!  For the love of..."
	Everyone's attention was drawn to the unconscious man that now 
occupied a bloody spot on the floor.  He may have once been a handsome 
man, but now his face was torn; his white-blonde hair matted with 
blood.  He was of medium build and average height.  In his hand was 
clenched a bloody bastard sword, his knuckles white with tension even 
though the remainder of his body was limp....
	"Is he dead?" someone in the crowd asked...

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[Admin - Last post, Prytzouth teleported into the Inn as a last effort to 
escape death by the jaws of psi-hounds and treachery of his ex-friend and 
partner, Maurkel.]

       Everyone's attention was drawn to the unconscious man that now
occupied a bloody spot on the floor.  He may have once been a handsome
man, but now his face was torn; his white-blonde hair matted with
blood.  He was of medium build and average height.  In his hand was
clenched a bloody bastard sword, his knuckles white with tension even 
though the remainder of his body was limp....
        "Is he dead?" someone in the crowd asked...
	Hugh's attention had been elsewhere until that poor lady was 
interrupted by the appearance of this large, unconscious man upon her 
lap.  He sighed thinking, "Only in _my_ inn does this happen!" and he 
made his way over to where the man now laid.  The sight was a rather 
grotesque one; there were tears, gashes, and missing flesh pitting the
man's body, and he was bleeding profusely.  Hugh immediately untied his apron 
and began tearing it into strips.
	"Quickly!  I need bandages, water, and that bottle of whiskey 
atop the bar!" he shouted as he began binding the man's wounds.  
Receiving the wiskey from Fawn, who was standing beside him, Hugh 
unscrewed the top and poured it onto the open wounds.  With a shout of 
pain, the man's good left eye popped open.
	The wounded man quickly scanned the room with his good eye by rolling 
his head from side to side.  Through clenched teeth, the man whispered, 
"Get me to a room, quickly." 
	"We're going to fix you up before we even think of moving you, 
son." Hugh replied.  "You're loosing enough blood as it is.  I'm not 
going to risk having you die right here in the middle of my Inn!"

	Fawn had been silent, studying the wounded man.  "There's something 
awfully strange about that man," she thought to herself.  "He's not 
who he seems, but he's not a magician; I feel no magic emanating from him."

	Prytzouth whispered again, "You MUST get me to another room!  
Trust me, I can handle the move!"
	"Do as the man requests, Hugh, please," said Fawn.  ::He's not 
who he seems,:: she added in an urgent tone.
	Hugh nodded and motioned for a customer to help him move the man 
out of the bar and down the hall to a room.  Fawn walked along side and 
studied the man intently.  As they were walking, Fawn could see a 
physical change in the face of the man; his white-blonde hair began to 
darken with streaks of grey and his beard began to cover his entire face.  
She could feel the dispiration emanating from the man, he didn't to 
reveal himself this way!  "Hurry!" she prompted.
	Fawn opened the door to the closest empty room and moved aside 
for Hugh and the customer.  They quickly laid the "man" down on the bed; 
Hugh bid thanks to the customer and motioned for him to leave.  The 
customer bowed and backed out the door wide-eyed.  Their attention 
returned to the wounded "man" on the bed.  What happened next shouldn't 
have disturbed either Hugh or Fawn in any way, but it did.  They'd seen 
many forms of shapeshifting, lycanthropy, and magic in their time, but 
this seemed  backwards.  The "man" had changed into a large white-grey 
wolf, and for some reason it seemed natural.  Natural.
	Fawn and Hugh stared in amazement.  The wolf was very large, it's 
broad chest and long body covered most of the bed.  Hugh estimated that 
if the wolf were to stand, it's shoulders would easily come to Hugh's 
chest.  It's fur was white-blond streaked with grey, and it had one good 
yellow eye.  Even though it was torn with wounds, the wolf was 
beautiful.  The clothes he had worn were now torn and tight in places and 
loose in others.  It looked rather ridiculous.

	::Thank you kindly, dear ghost, for seeing to my urgent need.  
You were correct in assuming I did not want my identity revealed to 
many.:: he said to both Fawn and Hugh.  ::I do believe the bandages are 
both too tight in places an too loose in others, hence why I didn't 
want you to spend too much effort on binding me.  Not to mention the 
clothes::  The wolf gripped on to the shirt it wore and began to tear at 
it. 
	"I suppose that makes sense now." Hugh smiled weakly, still taken 
aback by the metamorphosis.  "Let's see what I can do about that," he 
added as he unsheathed a boot knife.  He went to work cutting off the 
clothes and ill-fitting bandages.
	::I believe once you bind the wounds, I should be able to handle 
the healing.:: The wolf licked Hugh's hand gratefully.  He turned his 
attention to Fawn and wagged his tail.  ::With luck and time, my eye may 
even heal.::
	Fawn nodded and smiled, "I sure hope it will.  They are so 
beautiful." she stroked the wolf's furry head fondly.  It was soft and 
matted with dried blood.  "Sir...wolf...How should we address  you?" she 
asked.
	::My human name is Prytzouth, and my friends call me Prytz.::
	"Well then, Prytz, how did you come to be so torn?" asked Hugh as 
he attended the wounds.  "Seems to me that you should be a rather 
formidable fighter."  Fawn grabbed a washcloth and began to clean up the 
wound around the Prytz's eye.
	::Yes, I can hold my own, but I wasn't prepared for what 
transcended.::  Prytz told them briefly what happened in the woods that 
day.  He wondered if he could trust these two, but only for a moment.  He 
could see by their mannerisms and detect by their scent that these were 
honorable and trustworthy people.  He told them of the treachery of his 
ex-friend and partner, Maurkel.

	::Maurkel is the only other person that knows of my identity, for 
he is my kin.  I know not where or how we became to be, or even why, but 
I do know we are equal in almost all aspects.  What possessed him to kill 
my love, my fiancee', I can not comprehend.  And why he seeks my death is 
only for the reasons of upholding one of the professional rules of an 
assassin, no loose ends.::
	"But you were friends, KIN!" protested Fawn.  "How could he 
think of killing you?"
	::It's not a question of friendship.  It's a question of 
survival.  Men in our line of work don't last long if they let their 
identity be known, even by their friends.  I was his partner, and he 
betrayed me.  He know's how I handle betrayal.  Mind you, I couldn't kill 
my own kin, but he does have to pay. He knows he will not be safe until 
I am dead.  That makes me a foe and thus a mark.  As far as being 
kin...:: Prytz let out a dispondant snort.  ::Well, you notice that 
_he_ couldn't kill me, however it was very convienent to help the 
psi-hounds accomplish his goal.
	::Please, I am exhausted.  Thank you for your help.  It is much 
appreciated.  Now, all I need is a week of silence.  I have no gold on 
me, but I promise you that you will be more than compensated for the 
inconvenience once I am healthy.::
	"I understand," replied Hugh.  "Do you need anything else?  I 
think we've bound the wounds well enough."  He looked at the bandaged 
wolf, which looked more like a pile of laundry on account of the numerous 
bandages.
	::Yes, thank you again.  They shouldn't scar too badly, I hope.
I will need to eat once and a while.  If you could bring in a bowl of 
water and about 10 pounds of venison, or whatever you have on hand, and a 
little conversation once a day, I would really appreciate it.  I don't 
plan on leaving this room until I can walk on two legs, if you know what 
I mean.::
	Hugh chuckled.  "I would be more than happy to oblige.  Perhaps 
tomorrow you can tell me how and why you came to be an assassin."
	::Certainly.::
	"Rest well," said Fawn.
	::Take care::

	Hugh put his arm around Fawn's shoulder and accompanied her out 
the door, locking it behind him.  Prytzouth stared at the door for a long 
time wondering if he had made a mistake telling them as much as he did.  
He shrugged.  Ever since Dari died, he couldn't find it in himself to 
think as an assassin.  These two new loose ends would have nothing to 
fear from him.

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[Admin - Prytzouth and Maurkel were in the midst of battle when the pack 
of psi-hounds attacked.  Maurkel had guided them here, although he did 
not control them.]

	"Maurk!!!" he heart Prytzouth shout as the psi-hounds hit like a 
wall of hairless death, ripping and tearing into cloth and flesh.  The 
pain was excruciating but not unbearable.  Maurkel searched his mind for 
the anger and focused it on the beasts surrounding him.  WHOOOSH!  The 
wind seemed to redirect it's force straight into the chests of the 
beasts, and it pushed them back far enough for Maurkel to leap into the 
air.  He concentrated on propelling his body higher, and levitating it 
above the reach of the hounds.
	He looked down and grinned.  This was working out perfectly!  
Prytz would die today, and his guilt would die with him.  Why wasn't 
Prytzouth changing?!  Did he forget what he was?  All the better.  
Maurkel extended his hand, palm out, in Prytzouth's direction.  With his 
mind he pushed his ex-partner to the ground into the jaws of death.
	"No, you bastard!" screamed Prytz as he felt the power of Maurk's 
mind push him to the ground.  Maurk watched with satisfaction as the 
psi-hounds tore at Prytz, but noticed a change in Prytz's apperience.  
What is he trying to do?  Prytz's outline began to get fuzzy and 
dispurse, and Maurk realized that his mark was getting away.
	"NO!" he shouted as he tried to grab on to the dissipating image 
of Prytz.  "You are NOT getting away!"  He felt his hold slip.  "DAMN YOU!"
Looking down at the pack of psi-hounds below, he felt his anger and 
frustration build, expand.  "How could you let him go!?" he growled at 
the psi-hounds.
	After loosing their prey, the hounds turned their attention to the 
figure being tossed by the wind above them.  Hungrily they jumped into 
the air, snapping at his heels.  Twelve.  Yes, twelve will be enough... 
Maurkel looked down at them with a toothy grin as he began to change.  
His face elongated and his legs shortened, becoming more muscular.  His 
hair became thick black fur, streaked grey, and a deep throaty growl 
eminated from his jaws.  He had transormed into a large, black wolf, 
bloodthirsty and ferocious.  He released his mind from the task of 
levitating and addressed the pack. ::Now you will see what the real jaws 
of death are.::

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[Admin - Last post, Hugh and Fawn helped Prytzouth; bringing him to a 
private room and bandaging him up.  They learned that he was not a human, 
but rather a psionic wolf.]

	Hugh wistled as he walked down the hallway to the guest rooms.  He 
was paying his first visit to Prytzouth since his arrival last night, and 
boy, what a night that was!  As if the place wasn't rowdy enough; to have 
a bloody man appear on the lap of a woman certainly got a raise out of 
people.  Then to find that this man was really a wolf!  He was just glad 
he and Fawn were able to get Prytzouth to a private room.  It was rather
amusing to see the face of that customer as Prytzouth transformed.  Hugh 
smiled; this should be interresting.

	Hugh knocked on the door to the room.  He put his head next to the 
door to listen.  A voice sounded in his head, ::Come in, Hugh.  I've been 
waiting for you and that venison, could smell it as soon as you stepped 
into the doorway.::  Hugh chuckled, and opened the door.  "So!  You're 
hungry, are ya'?"

	::Famished:: replied Prytzouth.

	Hugh walked in to see the large wolf stretched out on the bed.  
Bandages covered almost all of it's body, covering the white-blonde fur 
and Prytz's right eye.  "You look a bit better today," Hugh smiled.  "At 
least you're conscious."

	::Agreed:: Prytz wagged his tail. ::And what tasty morsels did 
you bring today?:: he asked rhetorically; his mouth watering slightly 
with anticipation.

	"Just some scraps."  Hugh grinned as Prytz let out a derisive growl. 
"Are you well enough to get out of bed?"

	::Perhaps:: answered the wolf, still growling playfully.

	Hugh filled the water bowl that lay next to the bed and placed the 
platter of venison next to it.  Prytzouth stretched slowly and gingerly 
stepped off the bed.  Blood began to seep through a bandage on his 
shoulder as he made his way to the food and water.  Hugh grimaced as he 
noticed the blood, pulled out a new bandage he had brought for this  
occasion, and began to attend Prytz's wounds.

	::You don't know how grateful I am, Hugh.:: Prytzouth projected.

	"Ah, I've seen worse!  There was the time when my buddy and I 
were jumped by a group of rogues.  We were outnumbered ten to one!" 
grinned Hugh as fondly spoke of his warring days.  "We barely got out of 
that one alive!  And I tell ya'" he added pausing to point at the wolf.  
"I had more cuts and broken ribs than you can shake a stick at!"

	::Heh...I bet.::

	"So, what's all this about being an assassin?" queried Hugh.  
"You certainly don't seem the type."

	::Boy, you don't waste any time, do you?!:: the wolf chuckled in 
Hugh's mind.  ::Well, I guess you could say it was a family business.  I 
didn't exactly have a choice as to my adult career.  As I told you 
yesterday, the guildmaster came to adopt, or own, whichever you prefer, 
Maurkel and I when we were just pups.  It was a rough childhood, but it 
had it's moments.

	::As far back as I can remember, Maurkel and I had worked every 
day of our lives.  When we were young, we were set out as spies to 
pattern the guild's marks, whether it was to thieve or kill, or we were 
pick-pocketing.  Part of the day was always spent training.  Dagger and 
hand-to-hand first, then short sword, then sword.::

	"Sounds a bit like a soldier's training," Hugh observed 
thoughtfully.  "I didn't realize such training was required for thieves."  
Hugh rubbed his stubbled chin.  With a satisfied tug on Prytz's 
bandages, Hugh settled himself on the wooden chair next to the bed.  He 
shifted his gaze intently on the wolf and tried to imagine his human form 
again.

	::Oh, it's quite necessary, I assure you.  There were many times 
when I was very thankful for the skills I learned back then.  Anyway, 
night was another time for training.  Learning to stick to the shadows, 
to be silent and unobserved.  Learning how to climb the slick, rock faces 
of the keeps, and learning how to kill.::  Prytz finished the last of the 
venison and water and lept gingerly onto the bed, fixing his one-eyed 
gaze on Hugh.

	::It was the killing that Maurkel and I excelled in....  He 
thought of it as a game, one he couldn't loose.  I was always the one to 
be cautious, and he was always the one to be wreckless.  I won't beat 
around the bush, Hugh.  I fear him as only I could; to know him is to 
respect him; to love him as kin is to die by his hand.  I can afford no 
love for him, as it would mean my life.::

	"What do you mean?"  Hugh's brow folded in thought.

	::I mean the first one to find the other will have the upper 
hand.  This is a kin war, Hugh, one that neither of us will win, and one 
that neither of us is willing to loose.  I will be hunting him down as he 
will be hunting me, but first I need to heal.  Perhaps leave for a time.  
The longer he searches, the stronger I will get, and the better prepared 
for him I will be.::  Prytz looked out the window as dusk quickly 
approached.  ::You will be needed back in the Inn soon.::

	Hugh nodded.  "You know fighting eachother isn't the solution."

	::You don't know Maurkel...::

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*
[Admin - The last appearance of Maurkel was in the woods after his failed 
attempt at taking Prytzouth's life.]
	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	The sun had long ago retired for the night, and the moon was hesitant 
to come out; perhaps the moon dared not appear while he still stalked the 
vacant streets.  A light hue crept into the streets from the swinging 
doors of a rough looking Inn.  His footsteps could barely be heard as he 
approached the front of the Inn.  He glanced up at the sign above the 
doorway.  "The Chundering Chimera."  This should prove entertaining, he 
mused.
	The lamps were shedding little light in the run-down bar, and the fire 
provided little warmth.  A few seedy characters were seated around poorly 
mended tables playing card games.  The light "chink" of copper could be 
heard as the daring increased the stakes of the hand.  A bartender 
laughed boistersly at a customer on the far end of the bar as he cleaned 
beer mugs with a less than appropriately clean rag.  Stale beer and pipe 
tobacco permiated the air and stiffled the lungs of any who entered.
	Maurkel paced up to the bar and seated himself on the sturdies 
looking barstool, the legs of which were mismatched and riddled with 
rusty screws and nails.  Looking straight ahead at the wall in front of 
him, acknowledging no one, he reached inside his black cloak and pulled 
out a silver piece.  It landed with a light 'chink' on the bar in front 
of him as he reached into his cloak once again and produced a pipe and 
tobacco pouch.
	The bartender appeared swiftly in front of this money wielding 
patron, grinning eagerly and rubbing his hands together.  "How may I help 
you, sir?" he asked as he looked over his new customer.  Maurkel was 
dressed in a dark black cloak that bunched up at the floor on account of 
the short bar stool.  His shirt and slacks were also dark in color, 
perhaps they were green or brown, or even black, the bartender cursed 
at the poor lighting.  A strange looking sword was strapped to his back; 
it was long and straight, and the hilt was covered in black cloth in a 
weave pattern, not unlike a braid.  He also noticed a shortsword strapped 
to the customer's side.
	"A pint of your special brew," Maurkel replied.  "Blaz'art was it's 
name if I remember correctly.  And make sure it's a fresh tap."  The 
bartender eyes broadened.  He nodded quickly, grabbed the silver piece, and 
disappeared around the corner.  A minute later he returned with a large 
mug and placed it in front of Maurkel.
	Maurkel took a log draught of the beer.  It wasn't half bad, for 
this place.  As he brought the mug down, he placed his hand on it's base, 
deftly removing the note and slipping it into his sleeve.  He finished 
his beer and smoke in leisure and deposited another coin on the counter 
as he stood up.  Nodding to the bartender he casually slipped out the 
door. 
	Once outside, Maurk whistled to himself as he made his way down 
the alleys toward the souther part of the city.  With a flick of the 
wrist, the note appeared in his hand.  He unfolded it...

It read...	Foreign Dignitary Am'risk Doram
		Hanging Gardens of Thrimm
		Glorshanned Keep
		3000 rays of sunshine

	So, another politician, Maurk thought to himself.  They were such 
a bore, but the money was good.  Certainly colorful speech, this employer 
had.  3000 rays of sunshine, indeed.  Ah, well, gold out of a 
politician's purse was as good as any.  He chuckled lightly, and with a 
thought, ignighted the note as he let it drop to the cobblestone road.	

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