Snypiuer

Inaction is ______________. Action is filling in the blank. Too cheesy?

Everyone freezes in place as the biggest polar bear ANYONE has ever even heard of lumbers into their midst (accompanied by a tiny, tinkling bell sound), sits down right next to the polling station and holds up a sign that reads (Why it's written in blood red is any body's guess): Arctic Animals For Global Warming ENOUGH with the cold already! We want to be warm too! And begins handing out cards with the initials "AAFGW" scribbled on them (Once again, in blood red). Around its' neck is a thick leather collar with a little bell and name tag that reads "CAT" (which is pronounced "See-Ay-Tee"). At this point, it looks down at Curiosity and softly meows.

The magical defenses of the Keep were strained to their limits and starting to fail at points. Boulders flung at the southern wall were now creating small gaps and the invading army began concentrating their assault on those spots. A large group of undead warriors took up a defended position just outside of bow range near a gap larger then the rest, prepared to flood into it as soon as it was big enough to breach the wall. (NOTE: These are not the classic lumbering, slow moving undead. Nor are they the re-imagined 'feel no pain so they can run at full speed endlessly' undead. They are more along the line of the 'Pirates of the Caribbean' undead, leaning toward the re-imagined undead.) Meanwhile, the front gates were now fully ablaze from dragon fire and several dragons had now created gaps in the other walls big enough to reach through and began spewing fire through them as they continued to tear away at them. Tzimfemme suddenly found herself surrounded by, what to her was, silence. The meteor storm that had concentrated around her had abruptly stopped. She lay there, listening. Just when she believed she could hear something, a figure moved toward her through the smoke and molten destruction that surrounded her. A being about 10 feet tall approached her. It was androgynous, perfectly toned, with wings and silver - not metallic, but shiny. It seemed to glow. It stopped just outside her consecrated position. It looked around at the markings and gave a small smile. For a moment, it stared at her, head cocked slightly as if puzzled or, perhaps, amused. Raising a finger to it's lips, it made a 'shushing' motion and gently tossed a rolled parchment to her. It turned and disappeared back into the smoke. She heard the voice from above say, "What the?" as she reached for the parchment. At that very moment, she also heard a noise from below. As Appy raced to assist Apaltra, she found herself running wildly in an attempt to to avoid falling debris, lightning bolts and miscellaneous projectiles. Meanwhile, Apaltra faced several undead treants and a Verdant mage of death and decay alone. As Alten made his way to the main building with his adversary, he began to notice that his wound was beginning to feel better and his strength was no longer weakening. He also noticed his adversary's breathing became smoother. He brought him into the building and lay him down on a table. He had every intention of telling one of the many individuals around him to give medical attention to the wounded man and then place him in custody. Instead, a strange thought entered his mind, "I should slice his throat before it's too late." Alten backed up and looked closely at the unconscious man. His burgundy robe was lighter then before. Alten then looked at the piece of robe he had cut to bind his own wound with. It should be soaked with blood, yet it was dry and fading. He found his wound was sealed and he felt strong. That alien thought was again entered his mind, "I should slice his throat." Movement from the fallen man caught his eye. The man was holding a dagger by the blade and holding the handle out to Alten. With a smile, he lifted his chin, exposing his neck. Xaious and Nickoli sprint for the upper levels took longer then they thought it would. Shifting walls, shifting time and countless versions of the same minotaur slowed their progress. The shifting time troubled Xaious the most. Time flows like a river, while it may branch, each branch becomes it's own time line - flowing back and forth along itself. Time lines do not cross. They can't. If they did, they would become DIFFERENT time lines! Yet, here he was, witnessing the impossible - time lines crossing and remaining the same. Kailea and the remaining guards were taken by surprise as the lights, confetti, music and wiggle worms from the Almost Dragonic Brand Center of Attention Wand™ raced through them to catch up with Wyvern. Wyvern thought to himself, "Center of Attention Wand™?!" as he was carried along.

Alten was finding himself very hard pressed. His opponents were adjusting to him faster and their attacks were becoming more coordinated. He was basically in full defense mode and knew he must do something quick before it was too late. As they fought back and forth across the yard, they came closer to the Keep's outer walls, which were now beginning to show larger and larger cracks while pieces of the wall were starting to fall from the top. The sound of the dragons on the other side grew as they pounded against the Keep's defenses. The ground shook with each strike and Alten and his foes found themselves with the added tasks of keeping their footing and dodging falling bits of wall as they fought. Kailea not only ran out into the fray, she ran right into the middle of it. So far only several small groups of invaders had managed to enter the walls of the Keep (most likely they were there before the initial attack - waiting). The largest of these groups was the one that had bundled up Wyvern and was headed out of the Keep to the south toward the invading army. Kailea was lucky enough to not only exit her rooms seconds before an inbound boulder took up residence in them, but she had the great good fortune to exit right as the very group that had Wyvern was in front of her door. The blast from the boulder shot her right into their midst. There was bedlam for a moment as cries of, "PROTECT WYVERN!" and "QUICK, GET THE BOSS TO SAFETY!" rang out all around her (their intentions of 'protecting' Wyvern was VERY clear - as if they wanted to make sure everyone who could hear knew it). She caught a swift glance of a bewildered Wyvern as he was hustled off and several of his 'gaurds' surrounded her. One said, "It's just a girl!" He was dead before he hit the floor (in fact, he was dead before he finished his sentence, he just didn't know it.) - she said to herself, "Guess the katana has some good uses." That's when she noticed the remaining guards were guardsno longer looking at her like she was 'just' a girl. Xaious and Nickoli had only gotten a few feet from the room when there was a 'shift'. They looked at each other and then back at the room. . .at least where it used to be. Nothing but a solid wall now stood where the room once was. There was another 'shift' and they looked back to where they were originally headed - the corridor they had been headed down was now an open room with 3 hallways branching from it. Xaious also noticed that with each 'shift', time itself fluctuated. Fluctuated in such a way that he had never seen before, a way he never even thought possible - mainly because it wasn't. Nickoli said, "That's odd." In the distance, slightly closer then the rumbling of the attacks outside, a deep 'huffing' noise could be heard. There was another 'shift' and they once again stood in a corridor, only it now went off to their left and right. The 'huffing' seemed to be getting closer.

As Wyvern slowly backed up, he caught a flash of movement to his right. Already nervous, he hurriedly reached into his smoking jacket and pulled out his Almost Dragonic Brand Localized Disintegration Wand™ and fired it off without thinking. Wyvern was more surprised then anyone else when bright spot lights focused on him through the smoke, music started blaring around him, confetti blew all around him (much of which was catching fire) and giant air powered wiggle worms popped up around him. In horror, Wyvern looked at the wand in his claw and read the label on it 'Almost Dragonic Brand Center of Attention Wand™'. He froze in place as he thought to himself, "There is no such thing as an Almost Dragonic Brand Center of Attention Wand™!". The shock distracted him long enough to get captured. The fact that he was the center of attention was why so many of the Keep's citizens saw when a group of dark clad intruders quickly surrounded Wyvern, bundled him up and whisked him away. The spot lights, music, confetti and wiggle worms raced after them as they quickly made their way out of the Keep - to the south. It wasn't long 'till word got out that Wyvern was taken. What was more troubling is what else began to circulate through the Keep: The intruders were not only very careful with Wyvern, their conversation to each other and him was clearly overheard (very surprising considering all the noise). It was said that they continually told each other to be careful with him, they assured him of his safety and repeatedly referred to Wyvern as "Boss." Alten gently settled an injured Pennite next to others who had sought refuge inside a very well built supply shed, as he exited to find others in need of help, his attention was drawn to Wyvern at the moment he set off his Almost Dragonic Brand Center of Attention Wand™, taking in the scene, he clearly saw the group of intruders that surrounded Wyvern before they even moved from the shadows. He sped to Wyvern's aid, but before he could reach him, Alten himself was attacked. He easily side stepped a slashing blow from a katana on his right, but was hard pressed to avoid a thrown axe that appeared from the smoke. The fact that the katana attack was clearly telegraphed and the axe was thrown exactly at where his head was GOING to be, brought his full attention to his own situation - clearly, his assailants were skilled. Alten found himself confronted by three figures: All about his height and build, bald and dressed in loose, dark burgundy robes (first contact with any of them reveals tight fitting, yet supple, leather armor beneath these robes) with face scarves. Behind the scarves, he could see that their eyes were solid and the same color as their robes. The one in the center spoke in a strange tongue as the two to either side of him attacked. A katana from his right and a short staff from the left. Meanwhile, the meteor storm began to focus around Tzimfemme's location and lessening elsewhere. The ground around her shook more and more violently and the voice from above said, "What is it that you hear?". Apaltra composes herself as the agonizing screaming in her head (a remarkable feat considering her proximity to it's source), not only continues, but increases as three more undead treants rise, twisted and deformed, their tortured wailing echoing for all those who can communicate with nature to hear. They move towards the Keep, each step leaving a trail of decay and rot. She thinks to herself, "Nature is about birth, life and (yes) death - But this, this is an abomination. Undeath is not meant for it." Kikuyu and Degorram set their sights on the advancing shadows, a flash of bone white can be seen at times and the familiar smell of undeath strengthens at their approach. In the distance, arms raised as if guiding the shadows, a lone, dark robed figure stands. A familiar (yet slightly different) aura emanates from him. Cracks begin to appear in the outer walls of the Keep and the gates begin to smolder as the Dragons continue their attacks unhindered. A boulder slams into the Keep's magic shield, vaporizing as the siege engines come into range. More and more boulders vaporize on contact. . . until one finally gets through. A shout of triumph is heard from the advancing army.

As Tzimfemme lay upon the ground, she heard a voice. Not what she was expecting, especially since it seemed to come from above, "Are you?" The meteor storm grew stronger around her. Molten rock pounded down and acrid fumes filled the air. The ground shook and trembled, as if trying to dislodge her. The voice spoke again, "Are you. . .really?" As Appy sped to help, Apaltra stood her ground shifting tree after tree out of harms way, knowing full well she could save only so many. She had felt when one of the oldest and mightiest was destroyed. The fact that she could not save it pressed upon her even more since it lay twisted and dead within her view. She doubled her efforts to shifting trees in an attempt to block the image from her mind. It was beginning to work when her attention was torn back to the fallen tree. There beside it stood a woman dressed in robes of the most ancient style of Verdant mages. Her face was young and beautiful, with full lips like rose petals against milk white skin and eyes the color of a crystal clear mountain lake. Apaltra's heart lept with hope as she saw the mage place her hands upon the tree. Her heart fell to her feet even faster as she clasped her hands to her head. An agonizing scream of unearthly pain and sorrow echoed through Apaltra's head as she stumbled from it's sudden onset. The tree moved and began to stand, twisted and deformed. The mage had brought it to life as an undead treant. That's when Apaltra noticed that the mage's robes were the color of death and decay. The mage smiled and stared at her with crystal clear unseeing eyes. As Kikuyu and Degorram readied themselves, the window blew inwards sending shards of glass everywhere. They protected their eyes and dodged the worst of it. When they looked back at where the window used to be, a black bird sat upon the ledge. The smell of rotting corpses came from it as it spoke in a low ghoulish voice, "Death is eternal, it can not be defeated. Only put aside for a brief time." The bird began to disintegrate before their eyes. Neither was too sure, but both thought that they could barely hear a whisper as it turned to dust and blew away, "He comes." In the distance they saw shadows moving towards the Keep. More and more lightning bolts made it past the Keep's defenses. Masonry exploded and fell from roof tops with each strike, sending people running in panic. Those within the Keep that had no magic power or abilities wondered at why those who did were not using their power to protect them from the lightning. It became clear why when the dragons began blasting the gates of the Keep with their fire and bashing and trying to tear down the walls - magic to defend the Keep from lightning would be wasted if there was none left to use against the dragons. To the south, siege engines could now be seen as the army approached the Keep.

Realizing that the situation was changing and changing fast, a dark figure that was observing from the shadows flicks his hand and right before Degorram smashed open the door, the lock spells vanished from the exits. "Can't have anyone hurt trying to escape the chaos," he thought to himself as he made a tear in reality and slipped away. On a dark plane of existence, the dark figure brooded and absent mindedly talked out loud to 3 smaller individuals (who stayed quiet), as he recalculated his plans. "Don't see how Wyv knew the kid was a phony, I'm just glad I was able to make it look like he was a paparazzi and Mage Noir was a reporter. Man is he going to be upset! Bad enough he had no idea the kid and photo weren't real, making him act like a reporter may have been a bit too much. I'll tell him it was necessary and give him a big bonus. That ought to keep him from trying to kill me. He's an asset, hate to have to liquidate him." Turning to the 3 smaller figures, he says "Well guys, any idea on how to further discredit Wyvern or tarnish his image - if at all possible?"

As the meteor storm rained down upon the forest, lightning strikes began to arc through the air. While a few struck home, the Keep's magical defenses deflected most of them - causing them to spider web across the sky. Among the roar of falling meteors and the crackling of electricity, another sound was heard: The deep muffled sounds of leather flapping against the wind. As if out of no where, nine Red Dragons circled the Keep - probing it's defenses. They then began razing the surrounding country side with gouts of flames, several landed to level buildings and tear up bridges and roads leading to and from the Keep. With all the confusion and havoc, it went unnoticed that they left access from the south open. When this was finally discovered, small groups of soldiers were seen setting up defensive positions around the southern bridges and surrounding buildings (a deeper sense of tension and uneasiness came over those who came to the Keep from the lost world of Terra, when it became clear to them that "Hero's" were among these small groups of soldiers). The purpose of these defensive positions became obvious when the massing army on the southern horizon was spotted. At this point, some who sought the source of these events started to realize, may be it didn't matter. Others who sought the source, redoubled their efforts in a desperate race against time. Most inhabitants of the Keep just readied for war. To them, it was clear: They were under siege.

When it seemed the tension could grow no more, as if it were a balloon stretched to its' very limit and about to burst, it happened. The noise like a freight train falling from the sky, filled the air. Everyone stopped what they were doing and ran to windows and balconies to see fire and rocks fall out of the sky, destroying the forest just east of the Keep. While most stood in awe and terror, those who came to the Keep from the lost world of Terra, shuddered at the sight - a meteor storm. Power of that magnitude had not survived the journey from that blasted and dead world. How? Who? These were two of the thoughts on the minds of those who crossed so long ago. Was it some one already here, who had some how regained enough power to rise to the might once wielded by Archmages? Or, had some one, some how, not only manage to claw their way back from Hell, but to do so with full power? When was the last time that had happened? Who was the last one with the strength of will to do so? What did this mean? Worse yet, what could be done?

Mage Noir voice over: Some how things seemed to get worse from there, like an old Studebaker without brakes tearing down dead man's hill. It's a wild ride, but something tells you it isn't going to end well. It could have been the booze or maybe the fact that the flatfoots parents were most likely blood relatives, but them trying to catch Wyvern was like watching the Keystone Cops on peyote - led by Barney Fife. Why Wyvern was even attempting to get away from them was a mystery, he would have been better off just standing still. An unknown informant had tip me off that the exits would be wizard locked and from the looks of it, they were. So far all his tips had paid off, that worried me. For some reason, I felt like a mouse in a maze that had every correct path lined with the sent of cheese. I had to wonder what was at the other end. But I was getting a sack full of geld for my troubles and I figured not every mouse gets caught. Some times he gets the cheese and gets away. Tim considered wading into the mayhem 'till I mentioned that there was only one way out and it was through us. So, we sat back and waited. . . .

Dear Pen Diary, Is it normal for a cat to enjoy repeated kicks to the head? Well, kind of got lazy last few days with the evil and stuff. Will endeavor to refocus my attention on that. Believe the reality dust bunnies may have slipped some Zanax(sp?) into my hot chocolate (evil enjoys hot chocolate - little known fact.), causing me to let things sit for a while. Also could have been little vacation I took last weekend. Did you know the streets of Juarez, Mexico are covered with Mexican military? That only used to happen during riots. Downtown is NOTHING like it used to be. Hardly any tourists. I didn't think it could get any more 'third world' - but it did. Yet, for some reason, I still fit in. Kind of disconcerting. Oh well, back to the evil and stuff. . . where IS Wyvern!?

Another noticed is placed upon the wall: Ozymandias is NOT public property. THEREFORE, defacing Ozymandias is NOT PUNISHABLE by either a fine and/or incarceration.

Agitation, frayed nerves, tension. . . all began to be too much of a strain. Fights broke out amongst friends. Lovers and families yelled at each other. Those alone, threw and broke things. Books and scrolls were torn in frustration. Demons and angels roamed free and did battle as those whom summoned them in an effort to find the source of the inner darkness that was spreading, made mistakes in their binding spells. It was a while before anyone noticed that on a bright, cloudless day. . . the sky began to darken and a low thrumming hum was felt, more then heard, throughout the Keep.

Voice over in Mage Noir's voice as the four make their way to the Conservatory: We followed the doorman into the Keep, our footsteps tracing a maze of paths that could only have been mapped out in the mind of an over excited, hyper-active 9-year old on acid. That's what you run into when you allow the artistic and power mad to create their own place to live. Still, I found it interesting. A warren of buildings and alleyways that held intrigue and wonder at every turn. While the little snot sack that stumbled beside me seemed to be both excited and apprehensive all at once, Tim had to stoop down almost double more then a few times to get past low over hangs and through doorways - I can only guess at the picture of the Keep sketched in his mind and didn't envy him one bit the backache (not to mention the headache from the times he didn't duck quite quick enough) he was going to have in the morning. We came to a door and as the smoke from my cigarette drifted in front of me like a gossamer faerie ballerina, the doorman said, "Wyvern is the one that looks like that (pointing at the little snot machine), only bigger and not as suave." He opened the door and we found ourselves staring into a ballroom filled with a plethora of beings from the exotic to mundane. My grey matter did a round house kick to the inside of my brain case as a feline creature with a body that would make a blind man weep with joy walked by. I didn't even notice Tim's catatonic state of euphoria as another vision of femininity walked by. I still have no idea how I was able to pull my Wizard PPK snub nosed wand and fire off a veil spell to protect both of us. Tim was wiping drool from his chin and thanked me as the intoxicating visions of beauty began to fade away. Another quick true form spell from my snub nose cleared the room of all concealments and disguises, both magical and natural. A group of flat foots drinking at the bar were astonished to find that the Captain they were drinking with was actually a shape-shifter that was a copy of the girl that walked by me right after the 'kitty cat' did. As the flatfoots drunkenly reached for thug-thumpers and night-sticks, the shape-shifter moved away from them with experienced ease. Three shackled troglyodytes in the corner desperately tried to unshackle themselves and chaos began to skitter throughout the ballroom as the 'law enforcement' officers began to lurch about haphazardly, all the while yelling at each other, "Get that lizard before he escapes!" A larger version of the little diaper bundle was in a far corner of the room. I looked at Tim and he looked at me as we both said, "Wyvern!" I was feeling like things were looking up. . .

Dear Pen Diary, Back from out of town trip. Had a good time. Spent money I don't have. Need to cause problems to make myself feel better. Stomped on some dust bunnies. Feel a little better. Where's Wyvern?

A notice is placed upon the wall: Defacing public property is punishable by a FINE and/or INCARCERATION Underneath is scrawled: Down with AUTHORITY And: ANARCHY against the ESTABLISHMENT

As morning began to blossom into day: soothsayers and diviners cast lots, read cards and stared deeply into crystal balls; scribes, historians, elders of academe and the generally bookish searched tomes, scrolls and ancient tablets; practitioners of the arts from dark to light used their esoteric might, while followers of both deities and demons prayed for enlightenment - all in a futile attempt to reveal the source of the growing tension within the Keep. Few individuals moved about and those that did, did so out of necessity - as quickly as possible, hands in pockets and with head down. It was as if all those whom dwelled within the walls of the Keep had made an unspoken agreement to to stay within the increasingly dwindling comfort of their own rooms. Within this atmosphere of growing dread, individual doubts and fears began to rise. Each citizen of the Keep began to suspect that the growing doom was specifically meant for them. They searched their memories for every slight given and every wrong they may have done (regardless of how small) that had cause for retribution. They looked back and recalled every enemy long forgotten. A few began to wonder of fallen enemies and whether or not they truly were gone. And the tension grew.

As Grimmael turns to lead Tim into the Keep, he hears an attention getting cough come from what he can only believe (considering the alternative) is the skull on Tim's buckle. With a quizzical look, he says, "That was the buckle. . .wasn't it?" A voice coming from a location slightly lower and (to Grimmaels great relief) further behind Tim, responded, "No." Tim steps aside, "Sorry, forgot to introduce my. . .associate." A dark elf stands behind Tim, smoking a cigarette and wearing a trench coat and a Fedora pulled down at an angle over one eye. He says in a rough voice, battered by countless cigarettes and booze, "Names Noir. . .Mage Noir, but you can call me Sam." He hands Grimmael his card: Mage Noir Private Wand "I guess we got lucky Tim. Looks like we're after the same guy. I'm a mage for hire, a private wand. I happen to be looking for a 'Wyvern' in regards to a little matter." He shows Grimmael a picture of Wyvern - at a strip club. It's a much younger Wyvern, but there is no mistake that it's Wyvern. "Now, there are several 'little matters' I need to see him about, but this is the one I was specifically hired to take care of at this point in time." He hands over another picture. It's of a girl recognizable as one of the strippers from the previous picture. . .holding a baby that bears an UNCANNY resemblance to Wyvern. Grimmael is pulled away from staring at the picture by a small voice to his left and close to the ground, "Are you my daddy?" comes from a chubby, dirty diaper wearing, mucus excreting miniature version of Wyvern. Tim asks Sam, "Mind if I get my business with him over first?" "Sure. We got time, and now that we know his whereabouts, there will be a lot of others interested in that knowledge." Sam adds with a small smile, "Tim, we got all the time we need." Grimmael can only shake his head as he leads the trio into the Keep.

Dear Pen Diary, Prison riots and VERY strong winds - life in a small West Texas town. One more recent then the other. But, both have died down and once again able to communicate with outside world. For a while, believed it was a sign that I should step away from the evil path I have chosen - or at the very least, not focus it at Wyvern. Cuddles, the zombie penguin that crouches in the corner of my room, convinced me otherwise.

Snypiuer finds a dusty, long forgotten tome and opens it. "I remember this." Dear Pen Diary, Long time no write. Feeling ever so much better. Unsure if that is a good thing. For some reason, I've gotten it into my head to be bad. For some even more unknown reason, I've chosen Wyvern as a focus for this badness. No one knows anything, so far. It seems the Muse that I have found is evil. . . yet I believe there is a purpose and have chosen to follow where she leads. The reality dust bunnies huddle in a tight bundle, in the far corner 'neath my bed - shivering in fear, fore they know and that knowledge terrifies them. Will endeavor to update regularly!

Anonymous messages begin to appear scribbled throughout the Keep: The end is near. and: Look for the 9

Snypiuer LOOOVVEES Despair Inc.!!!!! Never thought he should bring it up because an individual who stands out from the crowd is a target. Would seek to participate but knows his place as nothing more then a cog in the machine. A mundane, replaceable cog.

It was a clear morning that dawned on the Keep. It's denizens rubbed their eyes and yawned as they awoke from peaceful sleep. No longer were there nightmares or screams in the night as one would awake, reaching in desperation for the comfort of a loved one. Injuries were healed and conversations were about the weather or about how well a relative was doing. The Keep and those who resided within it's walls were at peace, safe in the knowledge that all was well. Or so they believed. As this clear new day arrived and the Keep awakened, there was a faint tension everyone felt as they performed their morning rituals of washing up and readying themselves. A silence fell over the breakfast table as no one was quite able to express the growing apprehension in the air. A nagging began to creep into the collective psyche of the Keep. And not a few of it's members began to wonder why.

No one notices Snypiuer as he slowly walks around the perimeter of the party, idly checking windows and doors. Therefore, no one notices that he is quietly, discreetly, placing magical locks on each and every exit. As if to insure no one could escape. After he completes his circuit of the room, he looks around and with a slight nod and a small satisfied smile, he leaves. Moments later, as if on cue, a large group of law enforcement officials burst in the front door. "NOBODY MOVE! We're looking for one Wyvern Almost A Dragon, AKA Wyvie, AKA Wyv, AKA. . . . Boss - in connection to a stolen vehicle black market chop shop and the use of fraudulent Vehicle Ownership Transaction (V.O.T.) papers. Specifically a bait car recently recovered with V.O.T papers signed by an S. S. Squirrel." A quick flash of memory shoots through Wyvern's brain: Looking at the papers Snypiuer signed, he saw an S and scribbling, in his haste, he just took for granted it said Snypiuer. At that moment, three troglyodytes, wearing auto shop overalls, are brought in in shackles. As Wyvern quickly pulls off his 'Hi!, My Name is Wyvern' tag and slowly inches closer to the nearest exit, all three raise their manacled claws, point at Wyvern and say, "That's him!"

Snypiuer thinks to himself, "Wow, Wyvern must be over all of the trouble we've had in the past. I ALMOST feel bad about what will be happening in the near future." Everyone in the entire Keep looks around as menacing music is heard, "dum dum DUMMM!!!" Snypiuer quickly signs the papers, drops his keys in the box and wanders away before any questions can be asked.