The shadows withered in torment, but there was no living source of the
pantomime, and the wind gnashed the branches of the trees together. A
forlorn grove in the deep woods, with eldritch wardings about the torn
earth. Wardings that kept the spirit of the opened grave's most recent
occupant from nearing her old hiding place.

~They hurt him!! They hurt my Fillip!!~ Denlira recited to herself; the
same mantra she had recited since the hour her spirit fled her body.

The shadows stretched and twisted as her frustration grew. The blond-haired
liar, named Lucc, just kept trying to send her on. And the cold-blooded
whore ignored her, except to have her driven like a dog from the cloth
shop. Nor could she touch the old man - the Envoy - for he, sniveling
coward, always sat within strong wardings. And Denlira feared the two
nature spirits who had so wronged Fillip - if she let them get a hold on
her they could send her beyond - before she could destroy Fillip's cruel
tormenters. She had dreams of driving them all into hair-wrenching,
salvering madness!!

But....she made herself think.....The wind eased and the shadows shortened
as her frustration quieted.....There were two others....

Two men who did the worst damage. One had even drawn blood from her
beloved!! For that they would pay!!

~Maybe I should go see Fillip first, and console him in his hour of need,~
she wondered; the whole grove quieting as she thought of her beloved. But
then she remembered how he screamed in his small cell when she came, and
tried to hide from her gentle touch by pulling the thin blanket over his
curled body. Her scream tore the tree branches with its force and the
shadows leapt like black fire in her anger and distress. How could he hide
from her?!! His beloved!!?

Her wail followed her as she went searching for either of Fillip's two
cruel tormenters......those who the others would not even name!!!

[Lovvorn]

"Weeee!"

Six spicy meatballs danced in the air around the grinning mage's head.
With a flick of his wrist, Lovvorn directed one of the meaty morsels into
the mouth of the young woman he had decided to bed for the night.  She
opened wide, and the food sailed right in.

"Mmmmm..."  she said with a genuine smile.

"You see, my dear,"  said Lovvorn.  "There are all SORTS of advantages to
levitation.  You'd be surprised at the sorts of... ahem...  'arrangements'
that an adventurous man and woman can achieve once free of that pesky
force of gravity."

"I see,"  said the woman.  She reached for another meatball, but Lovvorn
levitated it just out of her reach.

"Oh, but you shall..."

"Hee, hee, hee."

Lovvorn adjusted his position on the large couch that he and the woman
shared.  Only the most expensive rooms came with couches, and of those,
this one one of the more elaborate.  Lovvorn wanted only the best... he
wasn't quite drunk enough for his standards to drop.  Yet.

To call the mage portly would have been an understatement.  While he was
far from grotesque, Lovvorn was easily twice the weight of other men of
his height.  All of it was jolly, round and soft... barely a single hard
muscle on him.  His body was covered with tattoos... skillfully drawn
runes and sigils that were Lovvorn's own handiwork.  Each one held quick
access to one of many of the mage's favorite spells.... such as the
enhanced endurance spell which he hoped to make use of tonight.  There
were also the remains of recent wounds on his shoulder and right knee...
terrible, painful wounds.  The shoulder had healed well, but the knee was
a gnarled, ugly ruin... barely usable at all.

The woman, like the room, was rented for the entire night.  Lovvorn
intended to make good use of them both.

Now if only that porter would hurry up with his ale.

"Room service is so terribly slow here,"  said Lovvorn.

"I think I've got some service you'd like..."  said the woman.  She ran
her fingers over Lovvorn's tatooed chest, and the mage purred like an
over-fed cat.

"Careful with those runes, my dear," he said.   "You wouldn't want to set
me off accidentally."

The woman giggled again, and Lovvorn wondered what was so funny.

[Denlira]

Denlira almost couldn't bring herself to enter the "establishment." The
very idea caused the spirit to wither in the shadows, though her distress
came more from memories than from morals. ....

"Slut!!" She could still hear the derision in Fillip's voice as he
reminded her that her captors had taken her before deciding to hand her
over to the Inquisitors. Sometimes, when she had done something truly
stupid, he would threaten to get some worth from her - and sell her into
the life she deserved.

A moan escaped the spirit. She never could make him believe that she had
tried to fight them. But then, maybe she hadn't fought hard enough...the
end result was same and she was blessed that Fillip had saved her, and
more often than not, overlooked her sullied honor. And with Fillip's noble
sacrifice in mind, Denlira sifted into the building.

The opulence of the place astounded her, but did not deter her from
finding the mage she had hunted this night.

The spirit sought from room to room.

Until she saw the tatooed mage thoroughly embracing his doxie.

Denlira flared. Sending forth noxious fumes and roiling darkness.

"YOU HURT HIM!!!!! YOU HURT MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[Lovvorn]

The woman screamed and threw herself over the edge of the couch while
Lovvorn eyed the disturbance with curiosity.

"Whoa-ho-hoo...  THAT'S not room service!"

Lovvorn stood up, placing most of his considerable weight on his left
leg.    He grabbed his robe... a pink, yellow and black
monstrosity that had been discarded a few minutes ago.  He tossed the robe
to the woman so that she could cover herself.

"I don't suppose you've come to bring me my ale, have you?"  he said to
the black mass of foul-smelling smoke that had appeared in the room.  "You
know, that's quite impressive... mind if I give it a try?"

Lovvorn cast a spell, and an equally-black roiling darkness appeared on
the other side of the room.  Lovvorn's version was dotted with paisley
splotches and yellow starbursts, and instead of foulness, it smelled like
freshly-brewed ale.

"How's that?   Now run along and fetch my beer."

[Denlira]

The foul mass that was Denlira contracted into a smaller ball, and pulsed.
She had no idea what to do in the face of such cruel good humor.

How dare he mock her!! How dare he enjoy himself while Fillip languished
in a chill cell!!

The cloud of anger exploded outward. Knocking over the delicate statuary
and lifting draperies; filling the room with the reeking scent of the
charnel house.

Right in front of Lovvorn's nose a torn face appeared, with slashed cheeks
and gouged eyes. And Denlira shrieked at him, "CURSE YOU!!!!! YOU HURT MY
FILLIP!!!!!!!!! YOU WILL PAY!!!!!!!!!"

[Lovvorn]

"OOOOooo!"  Lovvorn said with genuine surprise, but no fear as of yet.  He
touched a rune on his fleshy forearm, and suddenly the skin all over his
body took on a hard, grey appearance.  With his 'stone skin' spell
protecting him from flying debris, Lovvorn jabbed a pudgy finger into the
ghost's face, disturbing it like a rock thrown into a quiet pond.

"Now listen, you... You are in the presence of greatness.  You can't just
come into my bedchamber and start throwing your... ehh... ether around.
Its rude and you're frightening my... ehh... uhhh... friend."

[Denlira]

Her shriek of frustration rattled the pictures on the wall, and sent a
blast of putrid breath wafting around Lovvorn.

"RUDE!!!" she howled. "YOU HOUNDED HIM!!!! YOU HURT HIM!!!!"

Puzzlement shown in Denlira's grey and torn features. Was it that this
mage did not remember? Did not remember her Fillip?

"NO REST!!!! YOU SHALL HAVE NO REST WHILE MY LOVE IS IMPRISONED!!!"

The wind in the room became more violent. Draperies were ripped from the
windows, and the bedding began whipping about the room like deranged
dervishes.

[Lovvorn]

"Eh?"

The foul wind assaulted his stony skin, and caused the woman behind him to
scream incessantly.    Lovvorn was beginning to NOT like this.   At all.

But what was that she had said about being imprisoned?   And being
hounded?

Realization dawned on Lovvorn.

This ghost meant business.  He didn't know who it was the ghost OF... but
he knew why she was here.

"Uh-oh.   Oh dear."

Lovvorn turned  and unceremoniously snatched his robe away from
the cowering woman.

"EEEE!"  she shrieked.   The shocked look on her face almost made
Lovvorn chuckle.    But he was to busy throwing his robe over his obese
body.

"So sorry, m'lady,"  he said to the whore.  "But I do believe some old
business has just come up."  he turned back to the ghost.  "Ta-Ta!"

Lovvorn made a motion with his hands and immediately vanished from the room.

[Denlira]

The ghost's howl rose in angry frustration and an urn shattered.

Then there was silence, and the lingering odor of the charnel house.


---



[Eric Hood]

"HELLL-"  The young storekeeper's scream was cut suddenly short as the
point of Eric Hood's dagger pressed into his throat.  It drew but a
trickle of blood, but the intent was obvious.... be quiet or be dead.

"Now,"  said Hood, his lips drawn up into a sneer.  "Here I go offering
you a business proposition, and you start screaming.  Just for that, the
price just went up to thirty percent."

"Th-thi-thirty percent!?"

"That's right.   You wanna run prostitution in my city, you gotta pay the
dues."

"I don't know anything abou-"

"Don't bother lying.  Don't bother telling me that those women who wander
in and out of here after midnight are your sisters."

"But they-"

"Or cousins."

"But... okay, okay.... but it's just a small operation.   I don't make
enough-"

"Thirty percent.  For that, you get to see a lot less of me.  And maybe
certain undesirables will stay away from your girls.  Maybe.  But any
problem you have with the Tower Guard are your own.  The first time you
miss a payment is gonna hurt.  A lot.  The second time is gonna be fatal,
for you and everybody in your operation."

"The girls..."

"You think I give a damn about a few cheap whores?"

"Y-yes sir...I mean NO sir..."

[Denlira]


Denlira had given up on the mage and the trees bent with the force of her
anger, but slowly her anger dissipated when she realized she had found a
better subject for her vengeance. The evil man who had drawn blood from
her Fillip!! And she didn't think he had any magics that would help him
flee.

Laughter. Mad laughter of delight filled the decrepit shop.

"I found you... I found you..." the ghost sang in broken tones. Goods
began to rattle and explode as her foul essence danced through the store.

Suddenly an eyeless, torn face appeared between Hood and the shopkeeper,
and Denlira shrieked, "YOU SHALL PAY FOR HIS BLOOD!!!!!!!" Her "breath"
reeked of corpses three weeks cooked in the blazing sun.

[Eric Hood]

Eric Hood threw himself back away from the horrible visage.  The motion
was out of instinct rather than fear... as was the one that followed.

The knife blade glinted in the dim light, slicing through the ghostly
face without harming it in the least.    Eric's arm rotated and the knife
came back instantly.. and then once more, making two cuts that would have
killed the spirit had it actually be alive.

But it wasn't.

"OH thank the GODS!"  shouted the storekeeper.  "An angel of mercy!"  The
man ran from the store.  Eric saw him leave, but his attention was focused
on the apparition.

He glared at it.  His brow furrowed.  He growled lightly in the back of
his throat.

"You don't know who you're screwing with, darlin'"   he said as he began
to circle the ghost.

Despite the fact that the spirit was... a spirit, it did seem that Eric
Hood intended to fight the thing...

[Denlira]

Denlira's maniac screaming rose to a ear-tearing shriek, and her withering
ether tried to encircle Hood.

>From all around them she drew bottles and jars; turning into a whirlwind
of broken glass and twisted metal.


[Eric Hood]

Eric found himself being assaulted on all sides.  Flying glass and debris
pummeled him.  Eric lashed out with his closed fists, knocking things out
of the way as they circled him.

"That all you GOT!"   he yelled.

Jars and bottles shattered, adding even more deadly glass to the mix.  His
bare arms began to bleed as the flying shrapnel sliced him.  He covered
his face with one bloody arm and slashed uselessly at the air with his
knife.

"Oh come ON!   You can do better!"

The foul wind increased.  Larger objects launched themselves at Eric.  A
chair sailed past his head, and the leg caught him on the shoulder.

"UNGH!"

Eric grabbed the chair before the wind could carry it away.  He threw it
back at the apparition... it traveled no more than a foot before a
powerful gust forced it back at Eric.  He ducked, and it went past... then
halted in mid air and came back.

WHAM!

It hit him in the back and knocked him to his knees.

A shower of glass descended on Eric.  Sharp shards scraped his skin,
carving furrows into his flesh.  More furniture leapt up from the floor to
attack him.

"Ahh, now THAT'S more like it!"

Eric threw himself out of the way of a speeding bookcase, then turned and
knocked another chair out of his way.  More glass came at him.  He shut
his eyes just in time to prevent loosing them... but the bookcase came
back for a second shot...

THUD!

Eric, the bookcase, and about a dozen bottle's worth of glass flew across
the room and landed in a heap near the corner.

[Denlira]

The crazed spirit engulfed the downed man with her reeking essence, and
filled his ears with her maniac laughter. "PAY! PAY! PAY!!!!!" Denlira
chanted, "NO PEACE!! NO PEACE!! NO PEACCCCCCCCEEEE!! YOU SHALL HAVE NO
PEACE!!!!"

The air turned colder and she whispered in Eric's ear, "You hurt my
Fillip. You will never have any peace............"

She whirled the glass up into one more focused frenzy and was gone.

[Eric Hood]

Shards and splinters of glass rained down on Eric Hood's unmoving form.
Most of it rolled harmlessly off of the bookcase that lay partially on top
of him.  Some gouged lines into his already bleeding back and scalp.

Eric twitched, then lay still.

Then suddenly he twisted and shoved the bookcase off of him.  Sat up, then
began to stand.

"Need a lift?"  A pudgy hand reached down towards him.  Eric grasped
Lovvorn's hand and let the mage help him up.

"Sorry I'm late,"  said Lovvorn.  "I had to stop and pick up a drink or
two."  He held up his other hand, which was grasping a half-full tankard
of ale.  "Looks like she was here.  You seemed to have handled things
well... what'd you do, try to fight her?"

"Worth a try."

"You did realize she was already dead, didn't  you?"

"Yeah.  So?"

"And they say I'M silly...  Would you like a healing spell or are you
enjoying looking like a human pincushion?"

Eric gave his 'Yes' grunt and proceeded to pluck some of the larger shards
of glass from his flesh.  Lovvorn followed with a few mumbled words and a
few passes of his hands, which closed the wounds and accelerated the
healing.

"A ghost, eh?"  said Eric when they were done.   "You know what this mean,
don't ya?"

Lovvorn's jovial smile faltered.

"Oh, darn,"  the mage sighed.  "And tonight was turning out to be such a
GOOD evening.  Ah, well..." Lovvorn began to cast the teleportation spell.
"...let's get on with it.  He probably already knows we're coming..."

[To Be Continued]