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Misjbar is drawing on large pieces of paper, elfesses of all kinds. They seem to resemble true elfesses, but it is hard to see whom. With much skill and elegance he draws the lines, and at the same time voices his thoughts, and anger.

"Since you are gone...I can't breathe no longer. The island shall pay for your leaving, the island shall pay for this hurt..."

He suddenly breaks the charcoal he was drawing with, and he slams the latest drawing he was working down.

"First to die shall be Dravish...He shall die, die, DIE!"




Only moments later he is sitting in a rather tidy, and welldecorated cave. His head in his hands, he appears to be without choices.

"Tirennia, come here for a moment..."




Dear citizens of Gobaith,

I would like to have the head of Dravish. I will most certailny reward you, with money, with more than you could have ever dreamed. Yóu can speak endlessly with your lost loved ones, no matter where they died. I will use all my power available to find that loved one, as long as Dravish shall die, and I have proof.

I do not ever wish to see him again, and the one that murders him can expect lifelong rewards. See to it quick, my patience is wearing thin as I write.

~Misjbar Mehialho~
High Priest of the Synode
The just Prince of Terror

The elfess slips into the room at his request, her hood drawn, as always, low over her face. She peers at him from beneath it, lips pressed together slightly.

You called for me?

She glances at the parchment with an absent sort of interest.

Misjbar gets a soft smile playing over his lips, holding the parchment tight.

"The Synode just got a whole lot more serious. Keep track of new novices, and recruit all that you find promising. We shall grow to new heights, and show Gobaith, and the unwilling how powerfull we can be..."

With a last look at the parchment, he calls a small bat to him.

"Can you post this? People in town are not so welcoming anymore. The bat will follow you, and you can remove the message there..."

He attaches the parchment to the leg of the bat, whispers something to it, and it flies up to shoulderheight of Tirennia.

She returns the smile, if slightly, and nods slowly.

I will do all that I can to swell our ranks. And I will display the message for you; I have managed to stay below the town's notice, thankfully, at least for now.

She inclines her head to him a moment before heading out towards the town of Troll's Bane.

Standing vigil outside Grey Haven the darkly clad elf thinks upon his meeting with Misjbar. An elegant hand slowly reveals itself from within the folds of his cloak to rest upon the dark obsidion hilt of his blade.

The elf is mad.. And he plays the game which i invented.

The wind catches the elfs cloak, to set it billowing about his body, his vigil continues...

Anyone who hunts Dravish shall find themseleves a head shorter.

Callith.

Anyone who hunts Dravish shall find themselves a sack of copper richer.

Misjbar.

the note seems of the fagrence of apples

Misjbar, what has this man done? Im not exactly quite up to date.

Friend of the apples, Joshua Bithmond.

A sack of copper and they get to lose thier head, stupid bounty hunters though.

Callith

Callith, im interested in neither. But what i am interested in is the reason behind a bounty.

Joshua Bithmond.

Infidels who declare themselver "friend of the apples" are not to hold information of any kind. I doubt your brain can comprehend your own name, barely at most.

And Callith, bountyhunters live for the money. Why not exploit this amazing fact, and offer them a nice sack of copper. Or offer them immortal life. I have a lot to offer. Even to mister goody good like you.

~Misjbar Mehialho~
High Priest of the Synode

Misjbar, the only thing that you have that I desire, is attacked to your neck.

Callith

I must agree my head is beautifull, but shamefully for you it belongs to the Synode. And, I do regret that the gaurd does not posses social skills. Maybe a quick re-education would be in order?

~Misjbar Mehialho~

I agree with the full abillity of my being. Let start with this:

"Morality declares you must kill Misjbar."

~Unknown~

Oh, are we going to start like that?

"The Night Lord declares that you must purify Gobaith of the infidels."

~Misjbar Mehialho~