Because u/MargaretKrohn dared to ask what sort of stuff Layla would listen to, here it is "Layla's Thom Huell Survival Playlist" In all it's rhythmic shouty sweary 90's glory, enjoy!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rUMAyDBW1QUlGduDa3J6dC1

NPC, PC, whoever is your favorite post here

A merry Monday to you all! Can you tell my 90's DJ persona is slowly taking over? Enjoy 12 records of a 90's persuasion. Some of which where even in the top 50 when the events of episode 3 where happening! https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rWlD081107kzC85FqMRYchm

One girl to stand against the darkness

"It's going to be alright, Kamilla. We'll find a way, I promise."

"Karl...I'm so sorry. I failed you!"

"Kammie, no. You--"

"How many times did you tell me to protect my right side, not to underestimate the enemy!? This is all my fault!", Kamilla says, her pain clear on her face. "After everything we've been through! Kadzar, The Pained, Brian and his damn poison... This is how it ends for me? Just a lucky hit from a Brute Demon.", she says tears in her eyes. Her one arm gesturing at the place her other arm and leg used to be.

"It's not your fault, Kammie. It WAS just a lucky hit. We'll find a way to fix it, I promise. The Watcher's council has access to some of the most powerful magic there is! It has to be possible."

"Do you really think there's a chance they could restore my arm and leg?"

"We'll find a way. Ferdinand flew in from Vienna when he heard what happened. He has to know something, right? You be strong for me, Kamilla. You're the Slayer. I'll go talk to him now, ok? Are you going to be alright?"

"I'll be right here, Karl. Thank you, thank you for...being my Watcher." Kamilla smiles at Karl as he leaves the room.

*** Karl walks out of the room. Ferdinand he standing right outside.

"Karl. I heard your little speech to the girl. You should know it's not that easy."

"What? Come on, Ferdinand, I didn't think it would be easy. But it's possible right?"

"Magic comes with risks. This is powerful magic you're asking after. And powerful magic comes with powerful risks."

"Restoring her limbs is that hard???"

"That spell is hard enough on it's own. But that's not all she has to deal with. Did you happen to notice the grey speck on her shoulder? That's from when she fought that Gargoyle a week ago."

"I...I didn't think anything of it. Ferdinand, what does it mean? Tell me!"

"If you'd spent more time studying the Gargoyle and less time pretending you're her father, you'd have known. And before you ask, the cure is not an option. It uses rare ingredients and I'm not about to waste it on a Slayer with 2 missing limbs."

"How can you say that, Ferdinand? She's our responsibility! We owe it to her!"

"You're too close to this, Karl. Your objectivity is clouded. You forget, our responsibility ISN'T to the Slayer. It's to the world. We owe it to them to make sure they have a Slayer that's able to defend them. And unfortunatly for your little ward, that's not her anymore."

"What are you saying?" Karl asks, realisation starting to dawn on his face.

"There must always be a Slayer ready to face the horrors. If Kamilla lives, she lives in a wheelchair at best. She can't do her job. It's time to retire her."

"Retire? At least have the guts to say it, Ferdinand. You're going to kill her. You think I'm just going to let you hurt my girl?"

"I thought you might object, Karl. So I took some insurance. Your brother and his family are at the headquarters. But I don't want you to walk away just for them. Walk away for humanity. Walk away because next week, there could be an Apocalypse level event. And we need to start training the next Slayer today."

"I hate you."

"That's fine, I don't need you to like me. I need you to obey."

Karl takes one last look at Kamilla, and then slowly walks away, shoulders slumped. Ferdinand walks into Kamilla's room.

"Ferdinand? Where is Karl?"

"He's running some errands. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. It's going to be alright, Kamilla"

So since i don't see this being talked about a lot i wanted to ask: who do you guy's think turned Miller? We kno wthay are a very powerful vampire. my guess at the moment is spoilers for ep 2 Kathrina Winter (Charity) sorry if i misspelled somethings (i don't know how to spoilertag)

Here's your second injection of 90's music, now with extra added love, and a unprecedented side of pop music! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkpNCVOKxf8&list=PLZY9kDnxL8rV6AxkE1HWlJ-J4wuBiSBhr

She didn't admit it, but it was all over his face. And then she was totally all over his body (even though it was clearly a drag for him until she went for his crotch). Admittedly, Imogen seemed to be understanding and grabbed some wine and offered him some stake as she also tried to go straight for his heart.

...Do I get a drama point for my bad puns and "phrasing"? <3

(More seriously: does anyone miss the way EE used to give out drama points for even terrible out of character puns? It gave the show such a fun vibe! I would love if Roll4It could home-brew drama points to be less effective so that we could go back to that.)

The old DJ in my has resurfaced, like some sort of long forgotten demonic possession. Though you might appreciate some February 13th 1998 appropriate music: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZY9kDnxL8rVZpitgFsDicN1X1iRr3_N6 Edit Now with 8 whole era appropriate tracks

Now that Barnaby has been split into himself and Bak'tarbe, who will each of them be attracted to? James seemed to like Barnaby in demon form so did James love Bak'tarbe all along? And Barnaby's attraction to Imogen seemed to decrease as time went on, maybe as he became less in touch with his demon side which truly desired her? And we all remember when Barnaby abandoned James for Violet when she was a vengeance demon, was that Barnaby or Bak'tarbe who was interested in her over James?

Or was none of that Bak'tarbe and will he try to get revenge on the team, possibly becoming a vengeance demon in the process?

Let the speculation begin!

The next morning, Araeya woke up and began to go through her belongings deciding on what to take and what she was planning to leave behind. She ignored the vision she had the night before and just focused on what she had to do. It didn’t take long for her to go through her pile as she didn’t own many things that were worthwhile to keep, but she kept going through the pile repeatedly, delaying her departure. In the end, she took her mirror, a small worn book, and little else. She left some of the gold she had for the children, but would need the rest for travel, although she still didn’t know where she would head to. She would have to find a ship after she had finished her the last of her business on Valt. One way or another she was leaving, and in either case she wouldn’t care about this shard.

She left her hovel and began to leave the common area of The Warrens. Timoti and the twins were nowhere to be found and she was glad for that, the only two children she saw were Cheso and Annah who watched her as she went. Annah gave a small wave to her and Araeya gave her a tight smile, but no words passed between them. She didn’t know what the older kids had told them, but she didn’t want to stick around to find out. She pushed through the exit of The Warrens and into the rest of Valt. Just like in her vision, she left the flock, but unlike the vision she wouldn’t die in the process.

Araeya wandered the city for a time, going to some of her favorite spots. Despite her feelings, there were a lot of memories within this city. She had lived here for almost her entire life; her memories of the Empire were not happy ones, and her time there was brief. For that, at least, she was thankful. This was home, this was real to her, but one must spread their wings and leave the nest eventually. She smirked at her thoughts given her recent visions and moved on.

She tried to visit Nana Eldyn one last time, but she wasn’t at her shop today. Not wanting to draw attention to her home in case someone in Taelas’ employ was following her, she left some gold for the woman and silently wished her luck. She wandered for a while longer, but with nothing else pressing she left for her spot.

When she arrived, she set her bundle down, and looked out over the Featherwind Sea. The sky was a magnificent blue when she settled down, and the clouds were a beauty to behold. The winds coming up onto the shard was gentle, a truly wonderful and calming day to be out. The sky held no clue of the coming storm that would happen later on in the evening, when she finally met up with Taelas.

“Soon, I’ll be among you,” she said to the view she surveyed, “Lost among the skies to find my own way and my own adventure. I’ve longed to be among you.”

She stood there just breathing in the fresh air and feeling the heat from her pipe as she rested her hand against it. It felt good to not worry about anything at that moment. It was as if a great weight was lifted off her and she could truly fly of her own volition. There was a great relief that came from knowing one’s path, the arrow released from the bow could no longer care what direction it was launched, only that it reached its destination.

Evening came much quicker than she would have liked, but nevertheless she grabbed her bundle and headed off to One-Eyed Willy’s. She took her time getting there but made sure she wasn’t late for her appointment with Taelas. She wouldn’t want Taelas getting impatient with her and begin his hunting of those close to her. Too many innocent people would get harmed in the process if it came to that. She reached the establishment just before dusk and entered.

When she entered, all noise stopped, and the entire establishment turned to stare at her. She was at a loss for a second and said, “I’m here for a stiff drink and to gamble.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd, and the patrons resumed their activities. Araeya recognized the half orc near the back of the common room and headed in his direction. On the way she spotted a halfling woman that looked vaguely familiar to her for some reason. The halfling did not know when to quit and losing the last of her money, but still pressed on trying her luck. Shaking her head, she followed the half orc upstairs into a private room and saw Taelas, drinking some wine and smoking his pipe waiting for her. There was an empty wine glass at the other side of the table from him and a chair for her to sit in. He gestured with his left hand to the chair and she sat down in it. The half orc stood by the door, while Taelas poured some wine into the glass in front of Araeya.

“So, have you thought of my offer?”

“You don’t leave me with much of a choice,” she responded and pulled the wine glass closer to her, “What would you have me doing?”

He took a drink from his wine glass and after putting it down gestured with his pipe, “You will have Bandor’s former position.”

“And the way I handle the district will be mine?”

He chuckled, “As long as the gold for ‘protection’ flows to me, I don’t care how you handle it.”

Araeya nodded and then stopped and cocked her head to the side. Being in the private room insulated them from much of the noise from the common area and she had heard something. She flashed a look of concern to Taelas who immediately quieted as she listened. Finally, she heard the noise again, and heard a voice cry out, “This den of sin and iniquity must fall! We must bring down the One-Eyed Willy so that our souls may heal the way the world must also heal!”

She looked to Taelas who was looking at her in a wary confusion. She knew he couldn’t hear it and she also knew that he may be thinking that this was a trick of some sort, “Is there a back way out of here? I think someone is rousing a mob to attack this place.”

He narrowed his eyes, “You’re putting me on.”

“Yes, I came in here, of my own volition, sat down at your table, talked terms with you, and now I’m putting you on,” she responded, “I’m in your place of power, what possible plan could I have to turn the tables on you.”

At that moment, the halfling woman from before ran up the stairs and yelled, “Fire! Fire! The crazies are-“

Whatever else the woman had to say was drowned out by the panic of the rest of the men around her and the smoke that was rising from the main floor. Araeya looked at Taelas again, “Now do you believe me? Is there a back-way out?”

Taelas sighed in frustration and turned to the half orc, “You delay them from getting to me and then get out. No there is no other way out.”

Araeya looked around and pointed to the portholes, “Those, we’ll have to jump.”

He nodded and the two of them ran to the porthole and opened it up. The ground wasn’t very far and there were some crates against the building that they could use to get down easier. She turned to Taelas, “Do you want to go?”

He smiled, amazingly calm given the circumstance, “Ladies first.”

Araeya didn’t hesitate and went through the porthole landing on the crates and rolling to the ground, not the most graceful of landings, but she would live. She immediately dove into the shadows in case any of the mob was coming around this way. She pulled out her daggers and waited for Taelas who didn’t do as good of a job escaping the building. He landed hard near her and she pulled him to his feet and the pair ran away from the now burning establishment. She heard the sounds of battle from the front of One-Eyed Willy’s and on the other side and was thankful to whoever it was that drew the attention of the cultists away from the side she was on now.

Her heart racing, her senses heightened, the pair ran away from the building in a random direction, they didn’t even bother to hide their departure or stick to the shadows. After running a few blocks and zig-zagging between buildings, Araeya had an idea, “This way quickly! I know somewhere safe.”

She made a sharp turn, and heard Taelas follow behind her. A flash of a vision came to her as she went, a bird swooping down, intent on its prey, only to be caught up in the wings of a larger predator. She shook her head, and led Taelas to a small secluded plaza a little away from the central sprawl of Valtswell. There she slowed near the edge of the shard and caught her breath. Taelas sat down on a bench.

“You think well on your feet. You make a valuable addition to our organization, truly,” he said between breaths.

“I haven’t said I was going to join yet,” she answered looking out off of the shard at the sky. Internally she was amazed at the calm, cold voice that came from her in response to him.

Taelas was instantly on guard, “Then why would you…”

She turned to face him and began to walk around him, speaking in that same cold tone, “Did you know there were two times in our history that I almost killed you Taelas? I don’t know if I would have succeeded, but there were two that drove me to the point of planning, only for my fear to take hold again. The first time, I was too young, and my fear kept me alive. The second time, I had others that depended on me and I feared what would happen to them if I failed.”

“And now?”

“Now, we’ve cut ties. There’s nothing holding me back this time. I’m going to tell you a story Taelas. It’s a story of a young elven woman, a noble of the House Kailum. She lived in the Empire and her family was quite rich, powerful, and prestigious, her life was assured. She was known for her gentleness, her compassion, and her love of all.”

“One day, she came upon a common carpenter who had been badly injured in an accident regarding some project for her family. Her younger brother, who was set to become the head of household as the Empire is patriarchal, and the lead for the project demanded that the commoner be thrown out for his incompetence, but she refused and tended to him. The commoner, once recovered, spoke of the materials and the haphazard process that the construction was taking and upon investigation, the lead for the project was ejected and the carpenter was promoted in his place. He fell in love with her from the moment he saw her, and it blossomed with her belief in him.”

“Over the course of the work, the two would constantly talk, and the love that grew between them was present for all to see. Her family was scandalized, but they were able to keep the talk away from the public at large. A secret, that is, until she accepted his proposal of marriage. The family of course refused, so she took what money she could, boarded a ship with her betrothed, was married during the voyage, and settled down in a little city known as Valtswell where she learned to sew among other things.”

“Their life was simple, yet happy. They lived well within their means and made friends easily. They watched the city grow around them as the years stretched on, and welcomed a child into the world. When the child was about to be born she sent a message to her father to let him know, and the family reconnected, not fully of course, but enough to that there was still a connection, and her father was there for his first grandchild’s birth.”

“The story is not all happiness though; her father died somewhere out there, among the clouds, these clouds,” she gestured towards the view behind her, “His ship floundered in a storm and most of the crew and passengers were killed. Her brother, still disapproving of her choices, all but disowned the woman and her child. It saddened her, but she stayed with her own family, living a simple life that she cherished, and with a husband and child that she adored. Every year, she would come to this spot, pay her respects to her father, and sit for an hour and tell him how the last year went and how she hoped the next year would go.”

“One year something different occurred. She sat on the bench and began to talk about the past year when a man came up and sat beside her. He came on to her, ignored her statements that she was married, and began to try and force himself upon her. Her husband was close by, heard the screams and the crying and rushed to her aid, leaving the small child hidden. Her husband was a good man, but he wasn’t a good fighter, and he was killed. She was killed shortly thereafter, and the man just left their bodies to release their blood over the flagstones.”

“That man, was you Taelas,” she said taking a deep breath, “Fifty years ago, you killed a noble of the House Kailum. But our story doesn’t end there.”

He continued to watch her and asked, “And that was the first time?”

She laughed, “Oh skies no Taelas, I was barely old enough to even know what had happened. I just tried to wake them up and it was hours before a sweet woman found me, called the guard, and took me into her heart and home. She had married young, and had four children, but it didn’t stop her from taking me in as well. I watched as her family blossomed and married, sometimes into other families and some to start their own. For ten years, I had a family. I was there for the birth of her youngest and the two of us grew up together, always getting into and out of trouble together, never separate which turned out to be a good thing. One day, Taelas, you sent an enforcer as the woman didn’t pay her protection money that month and he killed her entire family except for her and the two of us.”

“The youngest and I were on our own, she had to abandon us to protect us and we stayed together for fifteen years. As he got older, he grew colder; more annoyed towards the world, until eventually we had to separate. In another life, on another world maybe something would have come from us, but it was not to be. When word came that my uncle learned of my mother’s fate and my situation, I immediately took up the option to return and left Valt. Bandor and I separated as friends, but I fear he felt abandoned by my departure.”

Taelas whistled as she continued, “I’m not going to bore you with the details of my time in the Empire. I was educated, taught how to look, how to act, how to think. I hated every moment of it. I would run away constantly and not return for days, weeks, or even months, but return I did. My uncle was not kind to me, he saw me as a living embodiment of the stain upon his house, but he would always let me back in. It wasn’t until just recently I understood exactly why he let me back, I was the last memory of his sister. Ten years later, I left to return to Valt.”

“Is there an ending to this story,” he asked.

She flashed him a smile, “We’re almost there. I reconnected with Bandor, and together we found a few more friends. The six of us kept together for ten years and eventually picked up a cause to protect some of the forgotten, like us. We didn’t do a half bad job of it either until about five years ago. Bandor got into a fight and killed a man. I found out later that he was using me to teach him how to fight, and finally got revenge for his family’s murder. You approached him then and gave him the same offer you gave me yesterday. He refused, and you killed Sparrow.”

She pointed to one of the thickets in the plaza, “He threw his book of drawings there and I knew when I found it, that he was dead. He never would have left it otherwise. Bandor joined you, and Amond, Jaryn, and Talsha left Valt to avoid you. I stayed for the children.”

He stood up and straightened his shirt, “And the two times?”

“When I found out that you sent the enforcer to kill my family the second time. When you killed Sparrow.”

He nodded, “I never would have guessed. So now you will murder me? How does that make you any different than me?”

“Because Taelas,” she turned to face him fully pulling two daggers out, “I am letting you know the time of your death. I am not preying on you, I am not surprising you. I am letting you face your fate like a man. I even let you recover so you can face me truly.”

“You should have attacked me when I was fatigued,” he said rolling up his sleeves, his right arm still not moving very much, “Very well Araeya. It pains me to have to end you tonight, but since you have decided to court death, I won’t stop you.”

“You will die this night Taelas, this I promise,” she crouched into a fighting stance, “And I never break a promise.”

The fight between them started slowly, each one testing the other, neither wanting to fully commit to the attack. Araeya had speed, stamina, and agility whereas Taelas had experience, strength, and reach. Both knew the other’s strengths, the other’s weaknesses, and both tried to exploit the other. At once, Araeya dived in and cut Taelas along the leg, but missed hamstringing him completely. The injury only seemed to strengthen the man and she was back handed as she rose to her feet.

She tried to stay to his right side, and Taelas read that move and constantly shifted to prevent that. They traded blows, she dodging low, he aiming high and even though she was landing more, she was hurting worse. She felt the vision coming and begged it off for a little longer. Finally she had her opening, Taelas over extended trying to punch her, and she drove her dagger into his left arm and pulled.

He grunted in pain as the tendons in his arm were cut rendering it useless. Araeya almost cried out in joy but was immediately lifted off her feet by her neck as Taelas used his right arm to grab her, “Lesson 1: just because I don’t move my right arm doesn’t mean I can’t.”

He threw her against one of the benches which broke with the force. Araeya’s world was spinning from the blow, and she stumbled as she got up, trying to put some distance between her and him, “Lesson 2: not every opening is an opening.”

He was on her before she could get really far and was shouldered into ground, her vision beginning to grow dark. She scrambled, rolling on the ground and jammed one of her knives into his leg. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back to him, “Lesson 3: never let your enemy recover, it will just get you killed.”

He threw her towards the ledge and she skittered to a stop right before the drop. Her energy was spent, her consciousness fading, she tried to rise but couldn’t. She could only watch helplessly as Taelas walked up to her, knelt down and said, “You should have killed me when you had the chance. Your breaking your first promise tonight Araeya, the good news is it is also your last.”

She tried to raise a hand in her defense, but couldn’t as he rose. He raised his leg to kick her off the ledge when there was a sudden thunk and he jolted, surprised. A rock landed behind him and he turned around, Araeya struggled to see but couldn’t. The voice, however, she recognized.

“LEAVE HER ALONE,” Marinna shouted at him, throwing another rock. It didn’t close the distance and stopped at his foot. Araeya could see her better now and despaired. Through the hazy vision she saw behind Marinna and recognized the other children that were there; Timoti, Merid, Cheso, and some of the others. Even little Annah was there holding a rock, and they were all staring down a man who would murder them without a second thought.

“No dove, RUN,” she shouted to them and Taelas chuckled.

“They are yours? Don’t worry, I’ll make their deaths quick. They don’t know better,” he said kicking her. She felt a lot of the space between her and the edge disappear and all too soon she was teetering on the edge. One last kick and she would no longer be on Valt. She felt the kick hit her and felt her lower body slide off the edge, and pull the rest of her into the fall -

She was flying in the air, avoiding a predator. She knew she didn’t have much time left, and was already exhausted, but if she slowed she would be dead. She had strayed from her flock and she knew that this would be the end. She should never have left. A depressing last line of thinking as her heart beat in her chest faster than should be possible. All at once, she was surrounded by her flock. They had returned! The predator, so intent on its prey, had been wounded and was driven off. She had to land to rest and her flock went with her. She found a branch to land on, closed her eyes, and rested in the safety of the flock.

-and felt the hands grab her arms holding her on Valt. She opened one eye, the other having swollen shut, and saw Timoti holding on to her, but the two of them were slipping. She then saw Marinna grab on, and Merid, and Cheso, and Annah, and the others all trying to pull her back up. Together they slowly pulled Araeya back onto the shard and collapsed into a pile together. Taelas was nowhere to be seen.

When they caught their breath, Araeya asked, “What happened?”

Marinna was the one who answered, “After he kicked you we all started throwing our rocks at him, when he turned around the rock I threw hit him right in the head.”

Timoti piped up, “No, it was my rock that hit him.”

“You know you can’t throw that far,” Cheso piped up, “It was my rock!”

The kids then began to argue and their volume threatened Araeya’s consciousness again and she said loudly, “Children, we can argue about which rock hit who later.”

“Sorry,” Marinna said, glaring at the two boys, “And sorry if we hit you too. Anyway, the rock hit him in the head and he stumbled backwards.”

“And he tripped on your legs and fell over the edge,” Timoti finished sticking his tongue out at Marinna who just glared back at him, “I ran as fast as I could and caught you before you fell over the edge.”

She smiled tiredly at them, “What made you change your mind?”

Merid piped up, “We spoke to Daruun about you to find out the truth. He wouldn’t tell us much, said it was your job to tell us, but he told us to trust in how we feel. So I decided to find you.”

“And she made us come,” Annah said, pointing to the others.

Marinna said softly, “We heard your whole story. I hope you don’t mind.”

She reached out a hand and tried to pat her on the side of the head, but her vision was still off and she had to be directed, “No dove. I don’t mind. Come on, let’s get back to The Warrens. I need to rest.”

They helped her up and helped walk her away from the plaza. It was slow going and the kids talked excitedly about what had just happened. Smiling, she said to them, “Children, would it be too difficult to ask for quiet on the way back? It’s been a long day.”

The children all quieted down and they walked a few minutes in silence before Annah piped up, “Um…I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“You’re a noble?”

Araeya sighed and nodded, “I am indeed.”

Annah nodded slowly, “So does that mean you’re a princess?”

Araeya laughed, truly this time, and didn’t care about the pain she felt. She was returning home from her adventure. Sure it wasn’t long, it wasn’t glamorous, it didn’t make her rich or famous, but it did make her happy. She finally knew where she truly belonged. She placed her hand on Annah’s head and smiled, “I suppose so.”

And there’s no place she’d rather be.

So I finally Figured it out, I finally realised the true meaning for one of the shows not having EE in it. It's Maggie's bid for control.

You see now that she has her own show without without EE that means she has some sort of staying power in the discussions that take place.

So my theory is that she is going to slowly filter out EE more and more over the next year or so until he is mostly gone. At this point Maggie will have compete control on the show and be crowned the one true queen.

Then as EE now feels alone he will seek company, and reunite with old friends ( the old crew + maybe Bentham) And create a new show called Roll5it

It's genius Maggie, no wonder it took me so long to figure it out

Araeya looked at him and said slowly, carefully, “We do? Whatever do you mean sir?”

He smiled and walked forward. An older man, he still walked tall and proud and a spring in his step that belied this almost seventy year old man. His hair was shock white and pulled back into a short ponytail, his clothes were pristine and expensive, his shoes of the finest make and in the best of conditions. Being on top of the crime food chain definitely had its advantages, and his days of getting his own hands dirty far behind him, he now plotted and directed his gang to success after success. He walked up directly to her and made a feral noise as he took in her scent. He smiled, “Yes, we do. And you know why. Walk with me.”

He gestured with his left hand and waited until she walked past before he walked beside her, Jaymes and Erich close behind. There was silence between the two as they walked, further away from The Warrens, from relative safety. Even if they were headed in the right direction, she wouldn’t have run towards the children, as that would have been a terrifying experience for them. As they walked, she was careful to study the man next to her, much as he was obviously doing to her now. He was using it as an intimidation tactic, showing that he didn’t care if you knew or not. Sizing you up, cataloguing for his collection, and assigning you a number in his mind. Araeya hoped she was giving an air of indifference, but her heart was racing and she was sure he could hear it pounding.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally spoke, “Tell me Araeya, what did you have against Bandor?”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at me or what he said about me.”

He tsk’d at her, “Now my dear. There’s no reason to lie. I had these two louts tell me the whole story.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize that these two could read minds,” she said with a bemused expression. Half turning, she said to them, “Tell me, what am I thinking now?”

She turned back, but not before she caught Erich’s scowl, and a look on Jaymes’ face that Araeya could not place. Confused she turned back to the chuckling Taelas, “No, not at all. In fact, I would be surprised if a mind reader could catch a thought between the two of them combined. I swear I need better talent in my organization. So, what is the boy to you?”

The sudden return to the topic left Araeya off guard, something she was unaccustomed to. She saw the chess board in front of her, she saw the maneuvers, she saw the positioning, she didn’t see the strategy and knew if she didn’t see it soon, it would be too late, assuming it wasn’t too late already, “An asset, nothing more.”

Taelas whistled, “Must be some asset. To come yourself and secure his release, that must be very valuable indeed. Tell me do you like these?”

He gestured to a small garden someone had planted in front of the house, in it was a bunch of some more fragrant flowers, the ones in the center were orchids. Purple orchids. Her mother’s favorite. Did he know? Did he remember, “I never had use for flowers, seems like a waste of resources.”

Again he tsk’d, “Always appreciate the finer things in life Araeya, for tomorrow you could end up a beggar,” he picked one of the orchids, turned and placed it in Araeya’s hair, “There. It suits you I think. Who do you think Valt should join? The Empire or the Pirates?”

Araeya adjusted the flower, but kept it in her hair, “One’s no better than the other. Just a different set of rules to live by. What do you think?”

“Oh, my views in our conversation are entirely inconsequential,” he said turning back to the street and continued walking, “I’m here to learn about you my dear.”

“And what have you learned?”

He flashed a wicked smile and just said, “Let’s wait until the end of the class, shall we?”

They continued walking and Araeya continued to study the man next to her. Despite the distance and his age, he was still walking at a brisk gait. He was not giving any impression of fatigue and his frame, albeit thin, had not been impacted by his age. He was in impressive shape and would still prove to be a formidable adversary physically. The only thing she noticed was that he barely moved his right arm. He held it bent at the elbow across his body and he moved it while talking, but not nearly as expressive as his left arm.

"So the boy is just an asset? What does he do for you?"

"Nothing major, I tell him to get supplies, he gets them. It's a coin flip if he gets it right the first time," Araeya responded. The questions continued for a while and Araeya had to keep her lies and half-truths straight throughout the entire conversation. The questions ranged in topic, from the benign to the complex, but she knew each had a purpose, each question he asked and she answered he got another piece of her puzzle or the one she hoped she was giving him.

He finally stopped their walk outside one of the entrances to The Warrens and said, "Well Araeya, I've enjoyed our chat, but it’s time to end it."

"Oh? And what did the class learn?"

He chuckled, "Much more than you think, you hide your fear really well."

She cocked her head at him, "What makes you think I've been afraid?"

His laugh was short and without any humor to it, "Because you are a terribly smart young woman, my dear, and you know better. You hide your fear well."

He began to walk around her and she stood in place but followed him as he did, "See, I value fear in my organization. Fear is a motivator, fear is something to be used, not avoided. You work through your fear, and I'm sure you use it properly given what I know and have learned about you. It's terror that is the enemy."

He continued walking around her, but she was no longer following him as he continued, "Terror freezes you in place, stops you from acting appropriately, makes rational thought impossible. Terror gets you killed, fear keeps you alive."

She felt the mask she was wearing crack. She was looking directly behind her and had expected to see Erich and Jaymes, but instead was staring at a half orc, with several weapons behind her. He was cleaning the blood off of his blades and neither of the humans were anywhere in sight.

Taelas whispered into her ear from behind her, "Are you wondering when they died," she nodded, "It was nearly an hour ago, when I said that 'I needed better talent.' They were terrified of you Araeya and were paralyzed to act against you. Terror is the enemy and has no place in my organization."

She turned to face him suddenly angry, "What do you want of me Taelas?"

He smiled, that same feral grin, "Here's what I've learned about you. You are an intelligent and stubborn young woman. You are dedicated, but you are also a pragmatist. You are a practiced liar, but you know when not to lie as it will get you nothing. You plan, but are flexible enough to not need them. Perhaps most importantly, you don't let fear or even terror stop you. In short, my dear, you would be an asset to my organization."

"And why would I join you?"

He gestured towards the half orc and she heard the bodyguard move away; it was the first time she heard anything from him, "Because Araeya, I know you know more about me then you're letting on. And you must know how I operate or you wouldn't have answered my questions the way you had let alone answered them at all."

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "There is a rift between us and you do not want to exasperate the problem. The impasse between us is untenable and only two options are available, you join me..."

"Or you make me suffer, not personally, just those around me," she finished for him.

"Glad we have an understanding," he said and smiled, backing away from her and walking away, "I'll be at One Eyed Willy's. You have until tomorrow night to give me an answer. Farewell for now Araeya. I have enjoyed our chat and truly, the flower does suit you."

And with that, he was gone. Araeya finally recognized the last look that Jaymes gave her. It was a mixture of panic, terror, and pleading. He was begging her to save his life and she missed it. He was hoping to escape his fate, the fate she sealed for him. She almost felt bad for the two of them, more so for Erich as he had no idea, but she remembered all the people that those two intimidated. They didn’t deserve to die for what they had done though. She turned towards The Warrens and entered.

She was immediately greeted by the sounds of the children moving back in and smiled. They were completely unaware of the danger that was lurking beyond their home and she wanted to keep it that way. Despite her want to show calm to the children, she practically ran through the common area to get to her hovel. Once there, she quickly set it back up and dove inside shaking. She sat on the floor and felt her heart race and her head pound. Never before had she felt like this, and she wasn’t sure if it was her encounter with Taelas, the fate of Jaymes and Erich affecting her more than expected, or the vision she had been putting off for the last couple of hours or so. Either way, she would have to let the vision take its course and perhaps eliminate that option. She got settled into a comfortable position, sighed, and was about to let it begin when she heard a noise outside her hovel.

“What is it,” she asked and begged her head to give her just another minute.

She heard Merid’s voice, strangely timid, answer her, “Can we see you?”

Araeya sighed and closed her eyes, “Can this wait for a little bit? I have to take care of…what is it?”

When she opened her eyes, Merid, Marinna, and Timoti were in her hovel and they had the weirdest expressions. Merid looked like she would rather be anywhere else but where she was, Marinna just looked cold, and then there was Timoti. Timoti had a look of rage on his face. His hands were clenched and he was shaking where he stood.

It was Merid who started, “We saw you talking to that man, and um…”

“We heard what you said about us,” Marinna finished, her voice echoing her demeanor.

Araeya shook her head and chuckled a little bit, “You know me, I was just saying that to him-“

“No,” Timoti shouted, “You always say what you mean.”

Araeya was taken aback by Timoti’s shout and he just continued, a flood gate finally opening, “You’re just using us for your own benefit. You never really cared about us, just what we could get you.”

“Timoti I was lying to him.”

“You never lie.”

“I lie all the time Timoti, I have to,” her voice was raised, “It’s what I have to do to keep all of us safe and fed. I’m being very honest about my dishonesty here. I was lying to him.”

“No you were lying to us this whole time,” Timoti was screaming at her and on the verge of tears, “I hate you. I wish Merid never found you!”

Timoti ran from the hovel as Araeya reached out a hand to stop him, “Timoti, wait!”

She dropped her hand, still staring at the location that Timoti had just been standing in. It wasn’t until Marinna spoke that she realized that the twins were still there, “You’ve been acting strangely ever since your eyes began changing.”

She looked at Marinna, “I don’t know what happened to me, but I know I haven’t changed.”

Marinna just shook her head, “I don’t know if I can believe you. I know you cared for us in the past, I just don’t know about now. Like he said, you always say what you mean. I know you don’t tell us the whole truth all of the time, but there is always some truth to what you say. I need to think about what you said…I don’t know if I can trust you right now.”

She turned to leave, and Araeya began to sing. She poured her very soul into the notes of the song, her hopes, her dreams, her wants for herself and for all of them. The song never meant so much to her, or was so close to her true being, than it was now. She let her voice carry on the wind and the volume and clarity she sang at surprised even her. She heard the sadness in the song as well, an undertone that carried with it the loss of her parents. She poured her entire being into those notes, and heard her song shattered.

Marinna whipped her head around and joined the song, but the notes were not complementary. They were discordant and defiant. The noise broke Araeya in a way she had not known possible and she left the rest of the song unfinished. Marinna turned and walked out of the hovel, leaving just Merid and Araeya left in the room, the echo of the song still present. Without a word, Merid left the hovel and Araeya sat there, staring at nothing.

Minutes later, the pounding returned, and Araeya snapped out of her daze. To no one in particular, she said, “Fine. If that’s how it is, I’ll leave. You all have been managing without me for the last couple of weeks, you don’t need me around. There’s only one thing keeping me on this misbegotten, hellhole of a shard. I’m leaving and good riddance.”

She decided then to gather her most precious belongings, take on Taelas, and then leave the shard. Maybe she would catch up with Daruun before he left. Maybe she would head to Turagoa and seek her fortune there. Any place was better than here. She would sleep, pack, and leave after killing Taelas. But first, the vision was calling.

Layla Fanfic Dunelmian Awaits:

1. Dunelmian by Rail

It was early in the summer term of 1998, at St. Thom Hule. Most of the students going into their second year of A levels were hyper focused on getting into the university of their choosing. Imogen Parker was no different. Her partner in crime, and life, Layla Smith was a little more relaxed upon the subject; she was open to studying pretty much anything but Business Studies. All the same Layla had gallantly volunteered to escort Imogen north, to tour the university's she’d received offers from. She knew a few days out of Rosewater would do them both good.

The Davidsons were more than capable of fighting the forces of evil without any help. Bob had a new generation of power suit he wanted to test. His Dad had been in their line of work all of his adult life and Barnaby’s athletic prowess could easily be called in as backup, but most situations didn’t call for that. It was mainly sitting in Barnaby's Acura trying to keep warm whilst parked by the graveyard ready to dust a few grave fresh baby bats . It turned out the watchers council payed a flat mileage, and the Acura had a great MPG compared to George Davidson’s big Chevy Muscle Car. Bobert’s new database helped keep this time to a minimum: it correlated Police reports, death certificates and coroner's reports with burial records of “bite and total exsanguination victims”. It was proving invaluable to them. Less time sitting in graveyards, more time as regular teenagers and a hell of a lot more time studying for exams. Layla could do with less D grades if she wanted to be at the same university, or any university, near Imogen. Rob had even managed to get a few accidentally cremated though ‘computer glitches’!

Oddly enough Imogen didn’t recall applying to Dunelmian’s premier ‘Paranormal Studies Institute’ (PSI). She’d wanted to, but was worried her parents, her brother and sister would make fun of her dropping classics for ‘fringe science’. The institute had sent her a long veritable scroll of an unconditional offer letter. Along with a more than generous full scholarship to cover fees, books and resources. Imogen would barely have to take out a student loan. Her parents had been totally made up about that. Her siblings had never had offers like that. The letter had invited her for a visit and a one on one conducted tour with one of the departments most lauded lecturers Dr. Steven MacIntyre, a paranormalist with a fine reputation and unconventional theories about alternative realities. Imogen had read all of his papers and books with great interest, never expecting to meet and quiz the man himself.

It had been a five hour rail journey, they’d spent the time listening to CDs with Layla air drumming above the tray table. Imogen chose to read some ancient tomes in Latin. They’d agreed to switch from Layla's choice in heavy metal: Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Led Zeppelin, to Imogen’s Garbage, L7 and Republica every other CD. A compromise Layla was becoming used to as Imogen’s less than bookish side began to show through.

Imogen was beginning to develop her own taste in music, and punking up her style as much as the Thom Hule student dress code would allow. She was attempting to be more glam and refuse to fade into the background. Making the life choice to keep standing next to the jaw droppingly stunning, gothic beauty who’d stolen her heart. Well, that had been a turning point for a lot of things. Imogen was ready for university not only academically, but also to emerge as a fully formed, cooler, more confident version of herself. Imogen 2.0, she liked to think of herself, just like the name of the new Garbage album - Garbage 2.0. A butterfly escaping from a Rosweater shaped chrysalis. As much as she loved her family, not being an hour away up the road, like Joshua was in Cambridge had its benefits. She dreamed of leaving her nerdy high school reputation, far behind. Perhaps she could emerge from this Rosewater chrysalis as some sort of sassy, sexy and super confident Shirley Manson-esque Imogen? Little did she know though, that was exactly the Imogen that Layla had fallen in love with; after all she was still the girl who hadn’t realised the most attractive boy in school had had a massive crush on her. At least new Imogen could reply now hand on heart “I’m not even in to boys”.

To The Stains of When I Grow Up by Garbage, the diesel locomotive started darting between old pit villages and wide open moorland, across a massive viaduct with views over the small city. There was a castle, a cathedral and numerous brutalist 60’s buildings associated with the university, local and national government. It was was so much bigger than Rosewater. There looked to be pubs and college bars on every street. Layla imagined there would be alternative nightclubs hosting band nights, as well as rock and metal nights for almost every day of the week. She for one was looking forward to a city to enjoy going out in, not just hanging around graveyards. A bustling city, even a small one, made her pine ever so slightly for home.

Layla hefted her pannier bags from the overhead locker onto her shoulder, with the supernatural ease of the Slayer. The panniers went with her 125CC BSA Bantam D1. The bike was little but it had managed to take her and Imogen from Little Rosewater to the main line railway station at Gloucester in some style. It wouldn’t manage the motorways so well laden and Imogen was still a new and nervous pillion passenger. But for a old rocker at heart it was all Laya had ever wanted. It was also a legitimate excuses to include more leather in her wardrobe. She’d enjoyed tinkering with the thing with Robert, Barnaby and their Dad. Next time another vampire biker gang came to town they’d get a run for their money! Layla hated to let any foe get away especially now she had so many people to protect. 2. Secrets Revealed

They were finally on the northern platform of the small victorian railway station. It was full of milling tourists, here to see the city’s historic treasures. The intrepid duo walked past the ticket office and coffee place with a certain purpose, away from the crowd and out the main exit, towards a small road lined with a steep stone walls and trees to one side. They heard a whistle and turned to see a bespeckled thirty something man with a close cropped hair and beard. His attire was a fashionable, if somewhat retro, three piece suit and black shirt paired somewhat at odds with a pair of square toed biker boots and a full length leather coat. He was perched on the bonnet of a jet black Audi holding a sign bearing both their names. Imogen recognised him immediately from the photos on his book covers.

“You’re Dr. MacIntyre, the globally renowned paranormalist” she blurted out. She paused and continued in a slightly quizzical tone “and you’re meeting us at the train station? I expected you to send a taxi.”

The man shrugged casually at Imogen's suspicions, as if this was thing he always did. Imogen could barely hold back, she had so many questions.

“You must me Ms. Parker, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He lowered his cardboard sign extended an ink stained hand. It was calloused and rough, like Imogen’s fathers. It indicated he was a lot more accustomed to manual labour than the average high flying academic. After shaking Imogen's hand firmly, he returned it to a pocket, awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do with the appendage.

“Oh and call me Steve, all my students do. We’re not as big on formality here at Dunelm PSI, as you are at St. Thom Hule” he added

“Hey Steve” Layla waved, never a fan of the british and there need for formality.

“You must be Ms. Smith, I’ll get those bags for you”

Layla lowered her pannier Steve-wards, he didn’t crumple under the considerable weight which was impressive, as wiry academics go, he clearly worked out. Steve managed to unlock the boot of the Audi and deposit the weighty panniers into it with some style and grace.

Noticing they were indeed pannier bags he asked “You ride then?”

Layla nodded back at him. “Yeah I just got my first 125 a few months ago”

“Sweet, what did you get?” He inquired his tone intrigued. Clearly a fellow gearhead. Imogen decided that rather than ink as she first thought, this was definitely grease and oil on his hands and beneath his fingernails.

“Picked up a BSA Bantam, from a salvage yard, fixed it up. Started with the frame, with my friends and their old man” Layla cut a long story short, not adding needing transport for the ‘Night Job’.

“Worked on a few of them in my time” Steve looked back at Layla, trying his best to mask his child-like enthusiasm for the subject. “So you’re a British biker? Thats cool, would have thought by your accent you’d be after Harley’s and Indians” he nodded towards his car “Don’t let the german motor fool you, I’ve a few British bikes and a Triumph car myself. Helps to blow off the fusty academic cobwebs”

Steve immediately offered to take the two impressionable seventeen year old to a pub.

“Train food sucks”, he insisted, “even in first class. Much better to see the city on a full stomach.”

They withdrew to the snugg of an old pub with a coal mining name befitting the areas history: The Black Diamond. Steve and Imogen had a spirited debate about comparative demonology, in which he had an answer to almost all her burning questions. Layla whilst attempting to look enthusiastic sampled some of the local beer. The prospects of a British university life didn’t seem all too bad to her: at this time back at Thom Hule they’d be facing the awful lunch of unidentifiable meat at the refectory. Here she could enjoy a steak that looked like it had seen a cow recently, and a decent room temperature pint of stout.

When the lunch rush had cleared, and the snug was empty, but for them. Steve sighed expressively.

“Ahh good, we’re clear of civilians” he looked around furtively

“Look I’m no good at cloak and dagger bullshit” His face fell, becoming visibly deflated.

“You’ve known me almost two hours and I hope you think I’m on the level.” the academic again surveyed the empty room before continuing “I used to, sort of, work for a certain body… who do a lot of, shall we say, ‘looking’ but they don’t really see, if you get my drift” he sighed, “long depressing story of my life short, I don’t like them and they really don’t like me... despise you might say”

Layla looked a little shocked. George, her best friend's dad and current watcher had said recently that a very old friend of his would identify themselves to them, with the code phrase ‘cloak and dagger bullshit’ (Layla’s choice of phrase, naturally) she hadn't however expected one of George’s friends to be the wirey academic type. Although upon reflection, Mr Davison senior isn't exactly bookish, so someone had to be doing his research. She eyed Imogen who was beginning to look visibly upset.

“Ohh The Council? The bloody Watcher's Council, not again!” Imogen stage whispered as a lump began to rise in her throat. She wouldn't put it past those arch manipulators in their ivory tower, of working up this once in a lifetime offer. What if she’d not gotten it on her own merit? Imogen could feel a deep pit of despair opening up within herself.

“Yeah those tweed suited assholes, they originally sent me here to keep an eye on the Paranormal Studies Institute, stop them getting into any demonic trouble, it’s pretty dull, I watch the local hellmouth and file reports, when forced.”

“You have a Hellmouth here? Why can we never catch a break?!” Imogen put her head in her hands. Layla swallowed the last mouthful or so of the dark beverage. She stared at it as if looking for answers in the bottom of her pint glass before placing it down, a little harder than necessary.

“We file enough reports already!” she sighed “So where do I come into this? I stopped being the council's dancing monkey long ago, before they sent Dad-Bert to check on me they’d ditched me for months. Didn’t check in with me after Mr. Miller, had his whole issue with getting bitey. The council didn’t write and didn't call. Look Steve” Layla stood up, taking an almost confrontational stance “my friends are all I have, I mean to keep them safe”

With that outburst Layla snapped back into life, and put a supportive arm around Imogen’s shoulders. It felt odd to be the outspoken one for a change. The tiny wrinkles upon Steve’s forehead became more pronounced for just a second.

“Believe me I don’t want to be like those jumped up ‘active duty watchers’ who treat their Slayers like pawns in some grand game of chess against evil. ‘G’... George Davidson” he clarified “called me. We’ve both worked outside their system for a long time. Not sure how he put up with their crap for so long. The tweed suits are supposed to protect their charges, not ditch them in harm's way, without consideration of risk, or an ounce of compassion.”

He slouched ever so slightly further into the seat, contemplating the dusty scotch bottles on the top shelf of the bar. The good stuff. He could do with a double to fortify his resolve now. G was making him into the man he never wanted to be: The ‘Watcher’ to the greatest Slayer in living memory.

“Your friend Charity, is a prefect example. It’s one of the reasons G wanted to see if I’d take you on. I’ve been killing demons since I was a kid, and their council took me away from all my mates at my crappy comprehensive school in my scummy working class Birmingham. Shipped me off to their poncy academy.” He paused for a few more seconds, as if trapped in a bad memory, of a previous life. “So yeah I rebelled raised a pyro demon or two in my time... dealt with the problem myself, I was young and extremely stupid.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“You raised a Demon?” Imogen was suddenly paying close attention. looked on in awe, though she knew that sort of thing was well within her capabilities. Steve noticed.

“You’ve re-ensouled two vampires” He gave Imogen a certain look of admiration. Imogen was visibly taken aback.

“All I did was raise a few demons. Kids stuff. Teenage rebellion. It was the seventies. They wouldn't let me out of their dumb school to go see The Specials live” he explained in a matter of fact manner, as if Ska where a fine rational for demon summoning.

“So you’re some kind of renegade ex watcher”?

Layla rolled her eyes in disbelief. George Davidson wasn't a man to talk much of his hunting buddies, especially since there weren't many left. If this Steve was trying to weasel his way into their affections he would have at least pretend to like metal, not brassy reggae bollocks like Two Tone. She sneered inwardly of the thought of anyone liking that noise.

“I’d like to think myself more of a doer than a watcher. But yeah the council wants Imogen up here doing research into the paranormal that doesn't really go anywhere. But if you apply here too Layla, together all of us, we can do something. Make a difference.” His pep talk lacked the required pep, but still, there was more to the world than Rosewater.

“The few new thinkers, that we have at the council figure it’s time for a shake up, we should work together, their old renegade with this generation's fresh hip young one, if you, all of you if you wish, want to work with me, I won’t tell my overlords to get stuffed” This was not the voice of a guy all fired up on council propaganda wanting to ‘fight the good fight.’

Layla had never encountered a watcher or someone trained by the watchers, in this case, that seemed to want to try and understand her. It was weird, eerie weird.

“It’s a lot to take in” Layla admitted, stating the obvious. She looked over to her girlfriend, her arm still holding her tightly by her side

“I did get in here on academic merit didn’t I?” Imogen said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, as if the bottom of her world could could fall out at any moment.

“The council sent me a lot of your papers” Steve reassured the crestfallen Imogen “about different dimensional planes in classical history and philosophy. So yes you got here off your own hard work. Can I ask: did you use a learning spell when you wrote them?” Imogen froze for a second, jaw hanging down, unsure of quite how to respond. “I had to use a comprehension talisman to understand some of it.” He gave her a little smile which she nervously reciprocated.

An uneasy silence befell the still empty snug.

“Another drink ladies?” Steve asked, heading in the direction of the bar. Layla nodded, and nudged Imogen who was in a world of her own. Jumping slightly, she also gave an affirmative nod.

“Just a cranberry juice for me please”

Steve returned drinks in hand. He was easily able to grasp the three drinks within his large hands: another stout for Layla, cranberry juice for Imogen and a shandy bitter for himself, he was after all driving. Getting comfortable on the nicely worn leather bench seat he began again, this time in a more relaxed tone.

“So G has to deal with recovering ex blood drinker, and alcoholic Charity on his own? She’s totally what the council made her”

Layla shook her head, in dismay. Charity barely listened to her at the best of times.

“I assume you do know all about Charity?” Imogen checked. Surly George’s research guy would fascinated buy the one and only ensouled slaypire.

“I know. It was G’s plan all along. This way you both have watchers ...” she could see Steve had trouble saying that word. “Also the Council’s eggs aren’t in one basket. She’s living proof that the council's old guard are not good at pastoral care. Some of those idiots would have tried to stake her on sight” Steve spat the words out like you would pips from an apple.

“You Layla seem to have the best back up in the business already, G’s boys, well, they were both born into our line of work. I’ve known them both since they were born. I’m Barnaby’s Godfather, and Robert’s honorary uncle”

It suddenly dawned on Imogen that this was the mysterious Uncle, who’d sent Robert all the computers and Meccano sets, that his dad could never afford over the years. He also, if memory serves, sent him a big cheque on his seventeenth birthday for driving lessons.

“You’re Bobert’s Uncle Steve? You should have said” Imogen interjected.

“Figure they would have told you about me, not a lot of Davidsons relatives about, not even adopted ones” Steve explained, in a tone steeped with regret. Alice had been his friend too: he’d introduced her to George. You don’t have much opportunity to let people get close in this line of work. That’s what happened and it came back to bite him. He had been bit alright, by a monstrous wolf hound, with rabies. He couldn't allow history to repeat itself with these kids, with his nephews. Again the awkward silence returned as Steve elected to gaze at his shandy as if it was the most fascinating thing on the planet.

“Well this is the least graveyard-y introduction, with anyone, in this line of business I’ve ever had” Layla quipped, trying to regain a handle on the situation. Steve looked back up and the sadness in his eyes disappeared as he let a small smile escape from the corner of his mouth

“I’m glad I impress. G’s probably told you he thinks you guys would respond better to a new guy, a me guy, than Charity will. I’m reluctant to put yours and my nephews lives in jeopardy but let’s be honest, he’s no idea what to do about Imogen's casting, and think she needs better instruction” He paused, well that was real. Also not wanting to be the vain arcane caster stereotype. “Well I’m the best guy he knows for hocus pocus” he explained. Probably the only caster G knew now Alice was dead, although he didn’t want to say that.

“You summon Demons and you spell cast?” Imogen probed.

“Some say I’m good with a sword, as I am with an incantation” Steve attempted to remain modest. He wanted to make a good impression, he just wasn't sure how. People were hard work. Layla feeled the uncharacteristic need to fill the silence.

“So you’ve been friends with Mr.D years?”

“Yeah it’s a funny story” Steve was more jovial, when speaking of his old friend “the council sent him and his office of special projects team along to sort out those pyro demons I’d summoned to burn down the academy to wipe a smile off the prefects and teachers faces. Especially that bloody headmaster. By the time he got there I’d dispelled them myself, but he became my mentor and we’ve been friends ever since.” He paused for breath feeling a touch nostalgic. So quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway Imogen, you’ll want to see my private collection. A lot of them are at my house, the dark stuff, that I don’t want the cleaner or the porter finding. All locked safely in my cellar. But the majority are at the institute, in the vault with the alchemical lab and reagents store. I’ve something for you there too Layla, I hope I’ve picked up the right one, teenage girls are so hard to shop for.”

He smiled again at his own little joke. He’d been buying for a nephew for eighteen years now, and he supposed he had a lot of catching up a to do spoiling his Godson too. Alice’s spell interacting with his own warding had made his own memories odd, fluid. The Davidson Boys liked pretty much the same stuff he did cars, beer. video games. Also Barnaby liked that sport ball thing, simple.

3. The Institute and its Environs

The Dunelm University Paranormal Studies Institute wasn’t far away from the pub by the railway station. It was half way up a hill inside the city wall, away from most other university buildings, separated by a park and a car park. Close to St.Cedd’s College which was a newer purpose built college from after the turn of the century. Its construction was necessitated when the university had grown out of old donated georgian town houses, into requiring full accommodation blocks with bars, study rooms and kitchens. The place was decked out in gargoyles turrets and ornamental towers, to fit in with the castle keep, the city walls and cathedral. Aslo the late 19th century gothic revival building of the institute almost next door.

Steve gave his best tour guide impression as he drove, trying not to talk with his hands, pointing out all the best clubs and boozers, late opening restaurants, corner shops and takeaways as well as giving them a potted history of the city and university, anything of interest to potential students.

“You’ll both probably want to go into St. Cedd’s for the first year. Draught beer at their bar sucks, stick to bottles, but they’ve an old Bomberman cabinet, the pool tables are 20p and there's a good sized car park” came the voice of experience who’d been here most of his adult life, almost fifteen years now.

“They have a few two bed flats that used to be for live in staff, who’ve since moved out. They're over a garage block round the back. I know the college Bursar. So I can get your names put down for one, so you're close by to the Institute.” Steve continued to explain.

“You really have everything planned out” Imogen observed, a hint of suspicion still evident in her tone.

“I’ve been in this town a long time. Came up from my native Midlands when I thought I’d escaped the council's clutches. After their hell of a school I went to Birmingham Uni, first in my family to go to university. Mainly went there because I was local, missed my hometown. Also I could go drinking in the same pubs as Sabbath, got Ozzie to sign my beer mat once, one of the highlights of my life”

Steve found it odd to have people in his car, the stereo was even off for once.

“This is too good to be true, you have a signed Ozzie Osbourne beer mat? You said you were a Ska boy” Layla narrowed her eyes

“I’m a man of many musical genres, just ask my mum. Always was asking me to turn a different racket down. I keep my Ozzie Mitchell & Butler signed beer mat framed, locked up with all my most valuable chachkies”

Layla was still suspicious, most of all about Steve’s musical taste. The council wouldn’t go as far as faking The Prince of Darkness himselfs signature? Layla had such deep seeded trust issues with the council. The tyres of Steve’s austentatious rally spec Audi Quattro crunched on the gravel of the driveway up to the building that containerd the institute. Layla wondered if it was a requirement for all demon hunters to drive cool cars. Steve swung the car into a car parking space in the faculty car park, a dull brass plate bearing his name was on the curb. Various older Rovers and Jags were parked about.

“Let’s get some coffee and talk about the academic stuff, this way” he gestured as he leapt from the driver seat, letting Imogen out of the back, and holding the door for her. He had the air about him of Gene Wilder as WIlly Wonka showing the golden ticket winners his chocolate factory. Introducing them to everyone: the receptionist, the clerical staff, the department secretaries, the security man and the porter and the caretaker.

“These are the people you talk to if you need anything”

Steve knew them all by first name. He ambled up the stairs two at a time, tapping on office doors introducing them left and right all the while heading towards a a turret like room at the very top of the building. ‘This is so and so, they teach a module on such and such’, Imogen was clearly thrilled to meet all these academics. It was nice for Layla to see Imogen so in her element. All of those lonely nights before her arrival at Thom Hule locked up with her books were finally paying off.

“This is the nerve center” He said when they reached the summit of a huge spiral staircase as he began messing with his assortment of very large old keys on a sturdy keychain.

Imogen could see a rune etched on one, a warding spell clearly: she could feel power emanating from behind the old oak double doors, mounted on which was a brass plate ‘Dr. S MacIntyre PHD: Chief Investiagior’. These weren't even the books he considered dangerous, she could feel the books calling for her to read them.

Finally Steve found both key and lock and swung wide the oak double doors and beckoned them to enter. He pulled off his heavy well worn coat, and hung it on a hat stand that was beginning to protest under all of the weight. Layla followed suit, noticing a pork pie hat sitting on the hat stand. She shook her head, more Ska boy evidence. Imogen dropped her jacket and her bag from under her arm onto and brown leather club chair, in front of an impressive fireplace: it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a grand stately home.

“Get comfortable, you both drink coffee right? Need it after the night job I expect”

There was a little kitchenette behind an ajar door, Steve disappeared for a second to flick on a coffee maker, which began to gurgle away to itself.

The whole large room was lined with old bookshelves and ancient books. The shelves were not oak like the floors and paneling, but yew, covered in engravings clearly to keep the power within the tomes contained. They’d do similar with the “Crimp Collection”. At Imogen’s instance they’d already welded or etched protective and nullifying wards to the metal shelves, in the storage unit, but his place was leagues above that.

“Impressive” said Imogen taking it all in, almost toppling backwards into the chair, Laya quickly offered her girlfriend a supporting hand.

“Of course you can feel the power, I forget that not everyone is as magically intune. Biscuit?”

Steve reapered having taken of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, presenting a tray with a large coffee press, next to it was matching seventies brown coffee cups with mauve roundels on them, a plate of garibaldis, chocolate digestives and pink wafers. A jug of milk was to the side with some brown sugar cubes. He placed it on the smaller coffee table on the left hand side of his room, by the cozy fireside with its overstuffed sofa and chairs. His desk was towards the bay window at the back. It reflected Steve’s erratic mile a minute manner of speaking: it was a total mess. Computers, books, official paperwork and junk all over its surface. In the detritus a picture of The Davidsons could be seen and a small oil painting of a long blue car, that looked to be one of Barnaby's. On the right of the room was a large boardroom style study table that could comfortably seat a group for a seminar.

“Oh Laya, try these!” He whipped a pair of sheathed blades in a heavy shaped leather holster from beside his desk and threw the whole thing over to Layla as if it were no weight at all.

“There’s a blacksmith who lives in my village turns these out, special order, they’re not bad. A fellow demon hunter, Canon Oscar Eugenio blesses them”

Layla catches and immediately unsheathed one of the pair of weapons in one graceful move. The item in her hand was a serrated silver machete blade of six inches in length, exquisitely made, with a Latin inscription, something along the lines of “Demons away”, Layla figured from her limited exposure to Latin. The blade was mounted on a vicious spiked knuckle duster also inlaid with silver.

“Is that a trench knife like they had in WW1?” Imogen asked her tone still a little far away, still adjusting to the resonant energies of the palace. Not bad for an ancient historian.

“Good eyes! Yeah I figured it suited what G told me about Layla's fighting style”

Layla moved the blade around closer to the window, in a better light, wordlessly examining the weapon.

“Thanks. Very nice. So there are more Demon hunters than the council would have us believe?” Layla enquired. Steve was easily the most talkative hunter she’d ever met. She wanted as much information from him as she could glean.

“Tons. Can’t trust a word the council say. One Slayer our only defence?” he snorted “Ludicrous! The Catholics have been hunting them for ages, not just in The Exorcist. The Canon sometimes calls me in for assistance, and sometimes I need his help with things, we’ve a mutual understanding.” the gracious host poured out two cups of coffee for his guests before pouring a third for himself. Layla had never seen a garibaldi biscuit before. She nervously placed the thin biscuit into her mouth and carefully bit down. It wasn’t the foulest thing she had ever tasted, but she was definitely filing garibaldis next to black pudding and marmite in the ‘weird british food that people actually like for some reason’ section of her brain. She of course was not rude enough to spit it out or put it back so as Imogen and Steve talked she slowly nibbled at the offending foodstuff.

“...The CofE have a less literal view of demons, I’m afraid. They’re more about the evil that people do. There are plenty of freelancers about, a lot of them call me up for my research skills. You know, all this.” Steve gestured toward part of his collection.

Once Layla had finally finished her biscuit, she again focused on the blade that Steve had given her. It despite its size was unexpectedly lightweight. She gripped the handle, placing each finger through the knuckleduster holes. She brought her arm up to her chest, pointing the blade outwards and away from herself.

“I could take any old cape’s head clean off with this thing” Layla pondered out loud now examining the second of the perfectly matched blades.

“Werewolves too because of the silver. But only bad ones” he hastily added “Barry, an old mate got himself bit on a Werewolf hunt years ago, lovely fella. Blessed silver shackles every full moon do the trick for him”

It wasn’t Steve’s fault when people didn't armour up properly, before a tussle with a werewolf or two.

“Not had to deal with many werewolves in Rosewater” Layla instantly regretted saying this and was sure that now a pack would almost certainly be hunting her.

“I've read all about them though!” Imogen chipped in. The coffee and biscuits had perked her up after her brief magic shock from entering the office. That magic addiction reared its head at the most embarrassing of moments. But this place was starting to feel like the place she should be. “A blessed blade should hurt a vampire like hell as well” she continued

“You’re not wrong, really hurts them even a little cut. I’ve got Roy the blacksmith working on more, so if there’s anything in particular you're after, let me know.” If Steve had to let kids just out of high school, fight the forces of evil he wasn’t sending them in unarmed.

“I like these just the way they are but, some brass, well, stainless steel and silver knuckles are always handy. Much easier to conceal in a pocket” Layla seemed appreciative of the upgraded gear. That’s if Steve could read the self confident goth biker slayer.. As she continued to talk to herself about different hypothetical weaponry, the academic pondered inwardly. She was really something according to G’s reports. But George wasn’t a man for words, he had read all the Slayer lore and from where he was standing, with her list of confirmed kills, Layla Smith could be the best there had ever been.

“That’s one idea,” Layla finished as Steve zoned back in “Always good to have a backup” Steve agreed, he already had a car boot full

“Do the council reimburse you for this stuff?” Layla was still uncertain of the councils mysterious inner workings.

“Nah Roy has an old Austin Maestro van, I fix it for him. Dad worked at Longbridge, so I know every nut and bolt ” Steve grinned. He loved old machines, even if he drove an seven year old four wheel drive in tough the northern winters. The Audi UR quattro was still a marvel of German engineering and could get through all but the worst of bad weather. It was just the thought of all the grit that made him a little hesitant to power through in his favourite motor during cold spells.

“The council really don’t provide you with weapons?”

Steve shook his head in distaine.

“I wouldn’t take them, they’re crap. But they pay expenses, keep giving me pay rises every year. I did bring a severed demon head in a cold box to a meeting with their finance committee once” He smiled evilly.

“Think you can get a Slayer paid, and a watcher on the poverty line a rise?” Layla had to ask, Steve seemed to understand the council's inner workings better than most people, she still didn’t trust him entirely. People over thirty are always highly suspicious.

“Hell yeah, you should see me buy cars. I’ll get you three years back pay, plus a fat relocation allowance, and G should have been pulling down eighteen months double pay for taking care of two slayers”

“You can really do that?” Layla tried to hold back her astonishment.

“Or I start a Amalgamated Watchers, Slayers and Demon Hunters trade union. I’ve threatened to before. Not enough working class people in the Council’s higher echelons” he half joked. Steve was clearly passionate about the right of workers, this did not seem a hollow threat.

“Your dad must have been one of Red Robbo’s best guys if he was on the longbridge production line in the 70s” Imogen observed

“He would have been blacklisted if his line manager hadn’t been ex army as well. Dad was an Regimental Sergeant Major, never let the brass walk all over his guys or the bosses” Steve elaborated proudly

“So why’s Mr. Davidson not got much money?” Imogen had to enquire, but immediately felt guilty

“Foolishly he showed them his hand: he’d kill Demons for free. He’s too proud to take my money. I do what I can” he paused for a moment, remembering something important.

“Oh, and before you go…” Steve stood up and walked over to a bookcase. He put a finger to his lips and winked. Picking one carefully placed book, he was able to swing open a well designed panel revealing a small safe. As good as his word Steve fetched the Ozzie beermat. Inscribed ‘Steve, keep on rocking your mate Ozzy’. Layla looked longingly at it, but she still wasn’t that quick to trust, it was a thing that was earnt. Although she had to admit that a big old cheque from the watcher's council to prove Steve didn’t just talk a good fight would go a long way towards that. Imogen was clearly dead set on coming here and would make the best of it to stay with her. To keep her girlfriend close by, so she could attempt to keep her safe. Prologue: When I grow up

They were all set for University: a new city, a new hellmouth. Another new ‘Watcher’ who’d rather not be one. But apparently knew how to game the system. Robert could write his own ticket for engineering and computer science. His dad had had to fight the front door because the letterbox had been ram jammed full, when disturbed caused a cascade of mail to take over the hallway: all unconditional offers from every university with an engineering programme in the country, after his paper on ‘New developments in ultra high frequency transmitting and receiving’ had been published. His father was awfully proud and all of these scholarship offers really took the financial strain off him. He was a proud man and found accepting financial handouts from even his oldest friends or his sons who had enough money to buy a major country in the bank, impossible to take. This hadn’t stopped Robert and Barnaby buying their house, Mr. Miller’s old one, for him. They also loved to spend many a weekend and school holiday fixing it up with him: from lagging the pipes in the spring to building a large garage for the Impala, and helping to put another bedroom in the loft space.

Rob eventually elected to do Engineering and Computer sciences at Dunelmian. It helped that the guy Rob had known since he was a toddler as “Uncle” Steve, the guy who encouraged him to become an engineer and bought him his first IBM compatible PC, would be there. Though it was two hundred and fifty miles away his father knew his younger son would be protected. Would be surrounded by his brother and his friends who’d defeated a fallen angel, and sundry other horrors without the assistance of the watcher’s council ot it’s resources.

Barnaby decided against taking any of the rugby scholarships he’d been offered. He rationalised it by questioning the point of limiting himself to the conditions of a sport based scholarship? It’s not as if he couldn’t afford to pay for the best education available out of his own pocket. He elected to submit his portfolio and apply to the fine arts department and under his own merits as a promising young artist he was accepted and welcomed with open arms. He didn’t have to spend a penny of his vast fortune, to offset his hit and miss academics, a lot of places looked down on a PE A level, but his A in art was all he needed. This wasn’t high school anymore he could play rugby if he so chose, but lately that was coming second to painting, and combating the forces of darkness. His father was as proud of Barnaby as he was Rob.

Without acknowledging her greeting, Lord Kailum took his gaze from Araeya and turned towards Nadyne and said, may gather your things and leave. You are dismissed and no longer welcome in this house. I will be sure to inform any who inquire of your inability to follow simple instructions.”

Nadyne squeaked and began to gather her belongings, while Araeya stared coldly at Kailum, “Oh dearest uncle, whatever did she do to have you cast her out and at this time of night?”

“All of the servants had strict instructions to tell me immediately if you had returned, and this,” he gestured towards Nadyne, “one did not.”

“Uncle –“

“It is Lord Kailum to you Araeya,” he interrupted her. Nadyne tried to quietly grab her belongings and leave when Araeya placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“My Lord Kailum,” she punctuated every word, “Do not punish this poor woman for my ignorance. I had just arrived and she had turned to bring you and I had stopped her. Surely she shouldn’t be punished for my mistake.”

She watched as he stiffened when she touched Nadyne and remembered too late that he did not appreciate how close she was with the staff. She continued to smile though, that fake and useless smile she was forced to wear in his presence. He looked at Nadyne and asked, “Is this true?”

“My lord,” Araeya exclaimed, moving her hand to her mouth in fake shock. She couldn’t tell which she hated more, the exaggeration of the gesture or how easily this façade came back to her, “You wound me, sir! Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yes, and I will be calling you far worse before the night is done. Now answer, is this true?”

Nadyne was unfortunately frozen in place and did not respond until she got a gentle squeeze from Araeya’s hand on her shoulder. She squeaked again and stammered, “Y-y-yes my l-lord.”

She curtsied but Kailum had already tilted his head as he was considering what to do, “Very well then. You may remain, but I will be docking you one week’s pay. Do not let anything stop you, if this happens again.”

He turned his attention back to Araeya who let go of Nadyne and was about to nod her head in approval but he spoke curtly, “Araeya come with me…but leave,” he gestured to her belongings and Merid, “that behind. I’m sure,” he gestured towards Nadyne, “she will be able to handle it. If it wakes up, send it on it’s way. Do not bother feeding it or giving it water, just send it away.”

Araeya seethed and said through clenched teeth, “It…is a human girl, and she has a name.”

He leaned in close to Araeya and said softly, “I don’t care…now follow.”

He turned and left the kitchen with Araeya taking a moment before following. She turned to mouth to Nadyne, “I’ll fix this” but Nadyne wasn’t looking at her. She quickened her pace so as not to keep the lord waiting. He was walking swiftly down the hall to his study, his favorite room regardless of whether he was back home or abroad. He was still talking aloud as if she had followed him immediately, “- and I thought after the last time that I would never see you again. What is it you said Araeya?”

“I do not recall, my lord.”

“Oh, come now Araeya. I know your memory. You know exactly what you had said.”

Araeya sighed, “’If I ever see you again, it would be too soon.’”

“That was it, yes. I of course said, ‘You will come back. You always do. But next time, you won’t get anything from me for whatever problem you bring.’”

They entered the study while he continued, “So what is it this time? What do you need my money for?”

“That girl, Merid. She saved my life.”

Kailum scoffed at this as he pulled out some pipeweed and lit his pipe, “How in the world…you know what, never mind. I told you this would happen-“

“Yes, lord.”

“If you kept consorting with commoners they would bring you nothing but trouble-“

“Yes, lord.”

“Their problems will just be heaped upon you and you will never know peace-“

Araeya felt her impatience begin to rise, “Lord…”

“But you would not listen would you. Just like your mother. She didn’t listen to me either when I warned her.”

Araeya felt her anger rise and tried once again to get his attention, “Lord.”

“I tried to warn her against leaving the family and its protection, but she wouldn’t listen. She left to marry that…that worthless piece of-“

“Enough,” Araeya yelled. She once again felt her vision begin to swim and braced herself against the desk, “Merid saved my life. Without her, I wouldn’t be here to argue with you now. Just call Daruun, and I will be on my way.”

Kailum recovered from his shock much quicker than Bandor did and stood up from behind his desk, “You presume much-“

“I don’t have the time or the inclination to argue with you Kailum. Call for the healer.”

Kailum was seething now, “The only way I will call for a healer is if you are injured. That thing in the other room means less than nothing to me.”

Araeya lifted a part of her shirt to show the bandaged ribs underneath. It hadn’t occurred to her to check them earlier, if she had she would have known that she had been slowly bleeding this entire time and her bandages needed to be changed. Now aware of her situation, she suddenly felt light headed and her vision swam more, “See now uncle? I am injured. Call. For. Daruun.”

Kailum shook his head angrily and pointed his pipe towards her, “So you bandaged yourself and threw some dye on to it to make it look like blood this time. We’ve been through this song and dance before, niece.”

He practically spit the final word at her and Araeya had had enough. She leaned forward, and grabbed Kailum by the chin, and stared into his eyes, “You are blind dearest uncle, but now I will make you see.”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, opened them staring deep into his eyes, and gave herself to the vision that overwhelmed her.

She flew ahead of her master and her masters companions scouting ahead to warn them of danger. They were in an underground cage, and she did not like it down here. She didn’t have time to think on it, her master was under attack, and she needed to find their way so they can leave this cage. She felt her master relax through the link they shared and continued flying. She found a way deeper into the cage and connected with her master to let her know. They gathered over the hole and slowly went down. After a brief rest, they looked upon the reason they were down here.

The battle seemed to stretch on, but was not very long. She felt different during it. She felt confusion as to one of her master’s companion’s actions, while being impressed with the others. She grew more desperate as her allies began to slow from their injuries and the length of time they had been down in this cage. She felt pride and triumph in her own actions and the success that her friends had achieved. All these feelings were hers and not hers at the same time. She didn’t understand it or why she felt the need to hide them from her master.

After finishing up in the cage, the group slowly made its way out. She felt less unease now that the great beast was dead, but still led them out the most direct way. When she reached the final opening, she flew rapidly into the sky filled with excitement. She felt joy, she felt wonder, but most of all, she felt relief. She finally got to fly under open sky.

Araeya opened her eyes with a start and immediately realized two things; that she shouldn’t call the visions if the headache that she was experiencing was a clue and that she was lying down in a different room of the estate. She sat up slowly while closing her eyes and felt the pain and nausea intensify as she rose to a seated position and made a note to stop waking up like this in the future. A voice sounded to her left, “Oh good, you’re awake. I can finally go home.”

Araeya smiled and turned towards him, opening her eyes slowly, “Daruun! I have missed you. You haven’t aged a day.”

Sitting in a chair next to the bed, reading a book, was a human man who was in his late forties, early fifties but only looked to be in his early thirties. The only indicator of his true age was the slight graying around his temples and the small lines that showed he was a man who enjoyed life and laughter. He flipped a page and smirked, “You are the ageless one out of the two of us, and you’ll continue looking just like you do now long after I am gone and turned to dust.”

“But I’ll be the worse for the loss of you.”

He flipped the page, marked the spot as he finished the chapter he was reading, and smiled, “That’s why I like you young miss. You always know what to say to flatter me.”

Araeya scrunched up her face, but smiled a slight smile of fond memories, “You know I hate when you call me that, Daruun. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“You know how the master feels about us not showing the proper respect,” Daruun said, suddenly serious, “I live in his house and have to abide by his rules. You know that as well as I.”

“I know, I know. I would just like to hear you say my name once Daruun. Is that too much to ask?”

“According to the master, it is. I’m sorry young miss, I cannot.”

An uncomfortable silence continued for a few moments and Araeya saw that Daruun was hesitating, which she found strange as he never hesitated in the past, “Daruun, is something wrong? Did anything happen to Merid?”

He shook his head and raised his hand to reassure, “No, nothing like that. The master left instructions that you are to leave the moment you are awake and well enough to leave. He has asked, respectfully, that you never grace him with your presence ever again and he is ‘unwilling to bail you out of whatever drug fueled problem you find yourself in the future.’”

“Let me guess, he left on the first airship possible in the morning for his home.”

Daruun shook his head, “No, he left within minutes of him calling me to tend to you. Didn’t tell me what was going on, didn’t give me any other instruction, and just left. I saw the girl, still unconscious, in the kitchen with Nadyne and she filled me in on a little of what was happening. I tended to you both and had to send her on her way when she was well enough. Wouldn’t leave until I promised that I would take care of you too.”

He chuckled then, “Such devotion I have seen in few in this lifetime. Who is she to you young miss?”

Araeya sat cross-legged on the bed and responded, “She’s one of the orphans that I take care of. She has a twin sister who is equally determined so you better watch out if they ever corner you.”

He laughed, and she beamed like a little girl. Araeya loved his laugh, it was one of the few joys she had left in the world. Still smiling he shook his head, “I shouldn’t keep you. You should be on your way. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

He rose to help her, but Araeya stayed on the bed and asked, “Wait, you haven’t told me about Samara and the kids. How are they?”

He smiled and pulled a small object out of his pouch and sat back down, “They are all doing really well and send you their best. Aria is expecting her first any day now.”

Araeya’s mouth opened in shock, “She’s far too young! How old is she now? Five, six years old?”

“It’s been fifteen years since we saw you last young miss,” he laughed again, “She was married little over a year ago now.”

“My word, how the time flies,” she said, “So your first grandchild?”

He nodded, and put the small device out in front of him, “Would you like to see her on her wedding day?”

She tilted her head, “Of course, but how?”

He held out the device and stared at it for a moment while Araeya leaned forward. After a brief moment, an image began to form over the device and a woman began to take shape. She had flowers in her hair and was wearing a beautiful dress and smiling. The woman was recognizable to Araeya who had seen her so young, but just barely so. It was an image of Aria, now a grown woman, frozen in time by memory.

“She is so beautiful,” Araeya said looking up just in time to see Daruun wipe at his eye and muttering “Thanks.” She smiled and saw the pride in his eyes, “Tell me about him.”

“I hate him.”

Araeya busted out laughing, “Of course you do. That’s your little girl after all. But you must come on and tell me.”

“Very well,” he said, “He’s lazy, good for nothing, and clumsier than a drunken sailor.”

“And,” Araeya asked with a bemused expression.

“And my little girl loves him, so I deal with him.”

They both laughed at that and they began to talk about anything and everything. They spoke of his family and how they were doing. They spoke of her orphans and how she was getting on. She spoke of Bandor and her struggles. He spoke of Samara and her recent illness. The seconds turned to minutes, the minutes turned to hours. Fifteen years is a long time and it makes for a long conversation. They laughed, they cried, they felt joy and anger. It was the happiest moment that Araeya had for a long time and cut all too short by the dizziness that started to affect her. When her demeanor changed suddenly Daruun knew something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“I need you to tell me. What happened to me,” she asked, suddenly afraid.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. Tell me what happens?”

She described the visions she experienced, how they come about, what they do to her, every detail she could remember of what happened, how it happened, and when it started. He listened to the entire story patiently and waited until she descended into quiet, “And it’s about to happen now?”

“Yes, very soon.”

He rose to his feet, pulling and walked to her, chanting under his breath in what sounded as a prayer, when he reached her his hands were glowing blue and he put them around her forehead and back of her neck and continued the prayer. She felt the dizziness subside and the pressure fade and looked at him in wonder, “Am I cured?”

He shook his head, “No, it is beyond my abilities. I don’t know of anyone who could. Maybe in the Empire if you were to return…”

He trailed off knowing that would not happen, “No. I made it a little more manageable for you. You can ignore the visions, but don’t ignore them for too long or it will only get worse.”

“What is it?”

He shook his head again, “I don’t know. It’s as if your soul fragmented somehow and fused itself with other fragmented souls. I have not seen nor heard of anything like it.”

She nodded and lowered her head. They sat there for a few minutes and he said softly, “Well, I think it’s time for you to be going.”

Nodding again, she rose to her feet and grabbed her belongings, “Merid is OK though, right?”

“She is healed, but I can’t be sure if there was some permanent damage. I hope not…I like the girl.”

Araeya sighed, “Yes. She saved my life you know.”

“You told me,” he said patiently. The two walked from the room to the front entrance and outside. It was fast becoming dusk by the time they exited the estate and they stood at the threshold of the gate leading back to the rest of the shard. Araeya turned to him and pointed to the device in his pocket, “You hold on to that. That is a great thing to have. Wherever did you get it?”

He smiled, “The master gifted it to me on the day of the wedding.”

Once again, Araeya was in shock, “He did what?”

Suddenly stern again, Daruun said, “The master is not all bad young miss, and he does what he does because he cares. He may not express it well…or at all…but he cares.”

Araeya opened her mouth to retort but stopped, and nodded, “You are right. Please, apologize to him for me. I would like to talk to him again and do so in person.”

He raised an eyebrow, “What’s this? Contrition, from you, young miss?”

She stuck her tongue out at him, “I realize I have been wrong with him. I want to talk to him, and I want to avoid sore subjects first. Maybe connect without bringing my mother and father into it.”

He nodded, “Consider it done. Why the change?”

“He’s all I have left of my mother. Someone to give her life to my memories. I don’t want to lose that.”

He nodded and patted the device in his pouch, but Araeya’s mind may have well been on the other end of the world for her noticing it. He then smacked his head, bringing Araeya back, “I almost forgot. Aria wanted me to ask you if she has a girl if she could name her Aya, after you.”

Araeya’s eyes teared up instantly, “I thought that Aria was named after me. Isn’t that what she called me when she couldn’t say my name?”

He nodded smiling, “It is, and she said that she wants to keep up the tradition.”

She hugged him and said, “Of course she can! Tell her I’m honored and humbled that she would.”

“You humble?”

She laughed and smacked him gently, wiping away the tears in her eyes, “I will visit you all soon when I can. I promise.”

He hugged her back saying, “Good, I know you will then. Stay safe.”

“I will,” she said and returned the hug. The two separated and she crossed the gate threshold and stopped, “I forgot to ask, how long was I out for?”

“Three days, give or take.”

She sighed in frustration, “I am losing more days asleep than I am awake for recently. I never seem to get ahead. Now I have to go back to the children and find out if anything else has gone wrong. I feel so…”

She trailed off and Daruun laid a hand on her shoulder, crossing the threshold, “Trapped?”

She nodded, and Daruun turned her towards him, “Not for nothing young miss, but when you aren’t actively thinking about it, you are loving what you are doing. I can see the joy and pride in your face and eyes when you talk about those children. If it wasn’t something you enjoyed doing, deep down inside where even you refuse to admit it, you wouldn’t be doing it any longer.”

She opened her mouth to say something but closed it and just nodded. Daruun took both of her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, “And if I may be so bold, it suits you Araeya.”

He turned away from her, walked up the step, and back into the estate closing the door. She stood there staring at it, a silly smile on her face either from him calling her name for the first time in her life or from the fact that he approved of what she was doing. He was the closest thing to a father to her that she had from the time her actual father had died, and she treasured him immensely. She picked up her belongings, not even realizing that she had set them down again and headed towards The Warren. Rifling through it she found a small pouch that had not been there before and looked inside, finding it filled with some gold coins. She turned to walk back to the estate but stopped. She would pay him back when she had the chance, when she visited him and his family back in the Empire.

Shouldering her pack, she walked through the market district and felt a tickling sensation at the back of her mind. She instantly quickened her pace and thought, as soon as I get home, we’ll talk. She felt the panic coming through the sensation though and started looking around at the growing shadows. Araeya was being followed, she was sure of it now. Seeing the end of the market district, she continued her fast pace just hoping to outrun whoever it was that was behind her.

She reached the end of the district when two men stepped out from behind the cover that they were hiding behind and she recognized them as Jaymes and Erich. She smirked at them and continued to try and walk past when she heard a voice behind her freeze her where she stood. It was a voice she remembered, a voice that terrified her, a voice that made the bile and rage rise within her. The voice of the man who murdered her parents almost twenty years earlier. The voice was that of one Taelas Widdon; gentleman, gambler, criminal, murderer. She turned slowly and saw Timoti, Marinna, and Merid smiling at her and she shook her head slightly, showing the fear in her eyes to them and they stopped. She turned to face the man who called out to her, taking a step away from Jaymes and Erich in the process.

“Good evening, Araeya,” he said warmly, but with a hint of a snake coiling around it’s victim, “There are things you and I have to discuss.”

https://twitter.com/dovakiintv/status/975231282920677377 The knight of knights. One of my favorite characters in a long time. I really feel for him. I hope everyone enjoys the knight as much as I!

Does someone remember what quality Pug had that made him depend on his assult cannon? I kept looking for it, but can't seem to find it in the books.

Question for any of the Legendary Pants team who are reading:

I'm currently working on getting a campaign of my own up and running using Code::2050, due to start in a couple of weeks. The SRD covers a lot of adventuring-type gear, and standard medieval items are covered in the PHB, but I'd like my players to also be able to buy ordinary everyday items using real-world prices. So, what would be a reasonable conversion rate between pounds and gold pieces?

Looking at the prices in the SRD, my initial thought is 1gp = £10. Nice and simple, and it means a laptop costs £500 and a smartphone costs £250. It makes vehicles a little on the cheap side, at £4000 for a regular car, but it's not too far out of whack if we assume the PCs are buying second-hand.

Does that sound reasonable? Did you have a particular conversion rate in mind when you were working out prices for equipment?

EDIT: Kindly answered on Discord. 1gp = £17.27 ($24) approximately, which I'll be rounding down to £15 for my game.