<div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3>Metamor Keep</FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3>Introductions Cycle 18</FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3>October 29, 706 CR</FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3> </FONT></o:p></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align=center><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3>Grave Digger</FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3> </FONT></o:p></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Yer’s be a new face ‘ereabouts.” Said a rough, gravelly voice stumbling drunkenly through the words as Murikeer felt a large, heavy hand come down upon his shoulder.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He hissed a startled grunt through his nose as he looked sharply up toward the owner of both voice and hand, trying to keep the mouthful of mead he had just taken from spewing back into the mug before his muzzle.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>The skunk swallowed convulsively, thudding his mug down upon the table as the owner of the hand circled to the opposite chair and dropped into it bonelessly.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Muri barely held back the disdainful snarl that threatened to ripple across his muzzle when the man’s stench struck him.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Sweat, earth, decay and the incongruous heady starchiness of Lars’s ale clamored about within his nose as the man settled into the creaking chair.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Knowin’ of ye, us ‘round ‘ere do.” The beardless, dirt smudged face split into a gap-toothed grin, “Fix ‘at dere’s cist’rn a coupla months back, ay?” he continued, not noticing how the skunk leaned further back into his chair drawing mug and trencher away. “Wot brings ye away fr’m da Kee, ay, wit’ th’ ‘arvest fest a comin?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Because I dislike crowds.” Murikeer offered in a stifled half-growl after finally swallowing his drink, “And humans.” He added after a brief pause, his expression frosty.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>The statement was for the most part true.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He had not been looking forward to the massed throng of Metamor citizens that would come with the festival.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Already, in the days before it was to begin, hundreds of travelers had come.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Merchants and performers for the most part, coming to prepare stages and stalls.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Even the proximity of those hundreds had begun to fray at Muri’s anxieties.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The thought that they only presaged a few thousand more left the young mage cold.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Sensing this, even separated as they were by the cold iron bars of her dungeons cell, Llyn had banished him.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>She reminded him of the oath that Jurmas, the innkeeper in Glen Avery, had made after Muri’s repair work.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>She also told him that she feared for his very safety.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The last day of the festival would be but a single dawn away from Daedra Kema.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Since Metamor was a favored haunt of the daedra, and Muri had thwarted the plans of the Daedra’s pawns, she did not want them to cross paths.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>His newfound instructor, the battle mage Rickkter, had concurred with her assessment.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He also banished Muri from the keep for the duration of the Harvest Festival and Daedra Kema.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Shoving a handful of rare, nigh priceless, books at the skunk with instructions to study and prepare.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He did not say what to prepare for, however, leaving his pupil in the dark as to his intentions.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>This it was that, one day prior to the opening festivities, Murikeer had headed north to Glen Avery.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Jurmas’s steward met him at the door of the Mountain’s Hearth with effusive welcome and the lynx ushered him to a gloriously appointed suite more suited to visiting princes than lowly journeyman mages.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>After several hours of peaceful solitude in the room studying Rickkter’s book he had ventured forth seeking food.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Unfortunately, with the major festival being held at Metamor Keep, there were few cooks to be found.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Jurmas had taken his wife and much of his staff, and the gracious Mrs. Levins had gone as well to sell her skills and the seamstress Walter’s wares, leaving only Lars’s brewery to provide food and sustenance to the thin crowd remaining.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>That was the reason Muri could be found at the small table in the secluded back corner of the tavern.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Oblivious, or simply uncaring, of the warning in Muri’s words, the man remained seated where he was.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>So great was his temerity that he even dragged a stool away from a nearby table and propped his muddy boots upon it.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Ahh, do poor paws good t’ rest fer a spell.” The man groaned, arching his body into the long stretch, then thrust his hand across the table toward the skunk.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Kunma Malenos.” He said simply, voice slurred drunkenly, filthy hand outstretched.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Murikeer Khunnas.” The affronted mage responded without making a move.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>After a moment the offered hand was withdrawn and rubbed against the breast of the man’s shirt.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Both being equally grimed with dirt it was difficult to know which profited from the rubbing.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Ya, guessin’ ah kin un’erstand th’ crowds thing.” Kunma said at length as he assayed a slow nod, “No bein’ too fond o’ ‘em meself.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The man was silent for a few moments as he took a spare sip from the simple earthenware mug in his large hand.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“We all gots ghosts.” He muttered at length, staring into his ale pensively.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Muri regarded the man dubiously as the pause stretched in an uneasy silence broken only by the muted murmur coming from other tables.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Don’ be fergetting yer plate, ‘keer.” He finally said, “Alyss a right fine girl, e’en fer a ‘coon, a right fine cook she be.” He coughed a strange laugh as he squared his shoulders slightly.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Were a scary sight ‘afore the ‘Gates, tainted grain wh’n she were a tot twisted ‘er right bad.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He looked over one shoulder toward the curtained door separating the taproom from the kitchen.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Curse undo alla that, be a fine girl now.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Spearing a tender slice of mutton with the top of his dinner knife Murikeer brought it to his mouth as he pondered the viability of finding another table.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Few suited his wont for solitude, and he figured that the foul smelling, dirt encrusted drunk would follow him anyway.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>So he merely tuned out the man’s words, needing little in the area of matchmaking.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Alladay, is no wha’ I want’d to’ speak ye up fer.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Were curious t’ know a’out yer rile in ‘th gates?” Kunma asked as he leaned forward over the table, rolling his mug between his calloused hands, “Rumor speak ye’ from bein’ northern come.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>It took several breaths for Muri to grasp the man’s words, which rolled from the left corner of his mouth with the verbal consistency of half-chewed gruel.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The statement was delivered in a conversational inquisitive, but it was more direct than the skunk had expected.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Pointed, and a definite breach of whatever privacy Murikeer would have expected, certainly not something to ask of in casual conversation.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Especially of a stranger.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“I was too young.” The skunk answered at length after swallowing a mouthful of simply made but pleasant mutton and chasing it with a swallow of mead.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“A kid?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>At th’ gates?” Kunma continued, his black brows crawling up his forehead.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Not at, but in the Keep when the curse was laid.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Too young for it to strike me immediately, though.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>That came years later.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Be ye ‘ow many summers then?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Nearly eighteen now, why?” he countered, his voice defensive.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Oh.” Was the only immediate reply, then lapsed into another lengthy silence.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Muri watched the dirty man for a short time before returning to his meal.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“It jus’ th’t we was hearin’ a’out sommat sort of enclave up to th’ north was place where’ Nasoj’s cast off curse-morphs be ‘oled up.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Who were yer father?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Hown’ th’ curse take ‘im?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Muri frowned as he shook his head and chewed on a hank of coarse, dark bread.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“I’ve never heard of anything like that, but I would not be surprised.” He shrugged, “Justin Windseeker.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He was far to the north when the curse full, working for the long patrol to harass Nasoj’s supply lines, so he was not taken by it.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>When he returned he hoped to spare me the curse as well and took me far to the south.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Alas, the curse already had me.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“A, a name I be knowin’, that.” Kunma nodded slowly, chewing the inside of his left cheek.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Windseeker?” Muri asked, his attention abruptly focused.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Oh, aye lad.” The dirty man said with a slow nod, raising his cup to his lips and taking another small sip, “Know ye where ye were whelped?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Murikeer scowled at the strange man, then shook his head, “No, my father never spoke of anyplace other than Metamor, and only of the Keep as a warning of the curse.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Nor yer mae?” Kunma asked further, digging deeper and deeper into Muri’s private history with the blunt force of an architect using a plowshare, “Kin unnerstan’ th’t I guess; pain were harsh fer ‘im.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Pain?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>My mother dying within the year of my birth?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Aye, that.” Kunma nodded, “An ‘ere.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Too many mem’ries.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Muri leaned forward abruptly, his tail stilling behind his chair, “You knew my father?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Kunma reached out and grasp his forearm with one hand, “In passin’ only.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Knew yer mae a tad better.” He said as he stood with a nod, dragging Muri to his feet with a gentle but powerful hand.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Come wit me, lad, I’ve aught t’ show ye.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>At that point Muri was hardly concerned about the grime staining the man’s hand as he rose hastily and dropped a single coin of gold amidst the half empty mugs and plates.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>A few patrons glanced up as he was led into the gathering gloom of late evening.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>There was a brisk, wintry nip to the evening air, raising a thin fog from the ground into which browning leaves silently fell.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The dirty man paused briefly at the door to grab and light a torch before continuing forward into the deepening shadows.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Muri almost summoned a witchlight out of habit but decided to let the human command the light, falling into step beside him.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Night had not yet fully claimed the peaks of the eastern mountains, the sky above was still a shadowy blue chased with crimson clouds, but the western flanks of Metamor valley were already cast into shadowed darkness.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Only the diffuse glow of the sky kept the Glen from being lost in utter darkness.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>High above Muri could already see the brilliant eye of the Archer glimmering against the cobalt sky.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Pulling his attention away from the heavens the skunk paced a few strides behind the dirty, pungent smelling human.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Kunma swayed to the right as he walked, weaving a drunken path through the towering trees, passing from the Glen proper and into the thicker forest bounding it.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The path he found to follow, revealed only as a slice of fog-dapped darkness through the undergrowth, led slowly down slope to the north into ever-thicker forest.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>It was a well tended, if not extensively used, cart path between well-tended hedges and meandering around massive trees.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The two spoke little as they walked while the sky above faded from cobalt to indigo and finally to a star dappled canopy of black.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Their existence dwindled to a mere flickering point of torch light through which trees passed in a slow march.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>In the distance Muri could hear the crashing rush of a large mountain stream and before long the forest thinned away from the wan circle of light cast by Kunma’s torch.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Out of the gloom appeared an ancient, worn pair of stone plinths enwrapped in carefully tended flowering vines.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The man spared them not a glance as his drunken, meandering path meandered between them, the light of his torch sketching more shapes out of the heavy darkness looming around them.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Headstones, worn and ancient nearest the plinths and progressing to newer markers with each row they passed.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Been folks lyin’ ‘ere centuries.” Kunma spoke, breaking the long silence of their journey, his voice hushed to a rough whisper muffled further by the low fog curling about the stones and their legs.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Th’ firs’ stone I kin read say two-oh-three, I figger it be followin’ the Reconing years.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Kin no more read th’ names though.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Lutins leave the place alone?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Oh, aye.” Kunma nodded, “Thems little uglies right afeared o’disturbin’ th’ restin’ dead.” The man snorted as he slowed, glancing at the stones sliding into the torchlight.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Watched ‘em meself up on th’ ridge this pas’ summer, an they watched me, but na’er loosed a shaft at me.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Any idea why?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Kunma shrugged, “I be handlin’ th’ dead, sommat only they’s shamen can do.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>So, my guessin’ they figgers I a shaman wit lots o’ dead at my beck.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He stopped before a tall, spender spire of polished stone veined with the local jadeite.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Ah, ‘ere we are lad.” He offered as he dropped the torch down low and waved it toward the stone.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Etched words jumped out from the stone, dancing in the torchlight and shadows,<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Yer mae, Em.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Coming to stand beside the human Muri gazed down at the pale gray marker.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Against the light of Kunma’s torch the letters carved into the stone seemed to float up from the smooth surface and dance in the flickering orange glow.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN><I>Here rests Emily Diaun Windseeker, Beloved wife, mother, sister.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>665-689 CR.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>May He love her as we loved her.<o:p></o:p></I></FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Kneeling, Muri reached out and laid the tips of his fingers upon the cold stone.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Died o’ th’ winter lung some months a’er ‘er first were born.” Kunma stated gravely as he raised the torch once more, the etching settling into quiescence.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“A son.” Muri whispered.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“You, lad.” The man’s voice seemed strangely clear as Muri bowed his head in silent lament, unexpectedly powerful grief welling up in his breast.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Me.” He moaned at length, dropping to his knees before the stone, “Father never told me where I was born, naming my mother only ‘Em’, or ‘Beloved.’<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>I never knew her, even through him.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Ah, but I be sorry, lad.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>She were knowin’ ye, afore He called ‘er to Him.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Muri looked back at the human, “How do you know?” he asked with a tired sigh.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Kunma’s hand rested upon his shoulder again, more gently than the strong grasp offered a mere hour before.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“A’cause, young lad, were me ‘usband an I wot laid ‘er ‘ere.” He explained as he turned away, “Kun na’er saw wot Nasoj did t’ me.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>‘E fell early on when fightin’ firs’ began.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Muri shifted back slightly and stood, his hand resting on the top of the marker.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He remained there for some moments, gazing down at the only physical presence he would ever know of his mother.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Heaving a deep breath he dropped his hand away and turned to follow the mist-shrouded orange glow of Kunma’s torch.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Behind him a tiny light, barely more than a candle’s glow, flickered up the spire of the marker, gathering at the topmost point.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He did not look back at the tiny, flickering blue beacon he fixed into the stone, confident that should he ever wish he would be led back by that tiny gleam of magic.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Na’er knew yer da, lad.” The man offered as Muri caught up with him, “Took ye away jus’ a coupla weeks later.” He shrugged as he wandered slowly back through the markers, drunkenly swaying to his right but managing a relatively direct course.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Did come back now an agin, but always when it be dark.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Memories of Muri’s earliest years were sparse to the skunk’s recollection.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>What he could call to mind most vividly were images of wilderness with his father.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Those images that lacked his father were of stone walls and dusty, unused halls lit by sparse torches.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He now knew that those ill used, lonely places were the deeper storage areas of Metamor Keep.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>What smacked most strange of his memories was the lack of them, considering the clear recall he now had of events even three years past.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Heiorn had shown him the way of the clear mind and the window of memory.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>None of those teachings had opened the memories of his childhood any more clearly than they had always been.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Brief snippets, still images in his mind’s eye like portraits in faded paint.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>And no friends, no childhood companions, not even a single solitary name or youthful face sprang to mind.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>His childhood had been one of solitude, but not loneliness, sequestered away from the world by his father.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>His heartbroken father who, in grief or selfishness, had taken all that his lost wife had left him and withdrawn into the wilderness.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>Muri did not know whether to praise or damn him for that selfishness.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>While it had well prepared him for the hardships he has suffered over the past three years, he had been left ill prepared to understand and fit into human society.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Heiorn had taught him culture and social graces, expanding upon the more broad overall knowledge his father had supplied, but using that knowledge in practice, after becoming a skunk, had proved amazingly problematic.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>His father had done what he thought best, Muri could not find it in his heart to fault his father.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>What was done, was done, and it was up to Muri to overcome the limitations he now suffered.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“’Ave me ‘ouse jus o’er there a pace, lad.” Kunma spoke as he passed between the vine sheathed plinths at the cemetery’s edge, “Won be ‘eadin back Glenways fer th’ eve.” His slurred voice was apologetic and edged with weariness.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Back op th’ trail a tad pace’ll be two great trees.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Ye’ll find a watcher there ‘at’ll guide ye back.”<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>With that he raised one arm and gave Muri’s shoulder a squeeze with his calloused, dirty hand.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“My thanks, kind sir.” Muri returned as they parted.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He stood there for several minutes, casting a glance back toward the cemetery.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>In the mist shrouded darkness he could not see the dim candleglow he had fixed to his mother’s grave marker, but he felt the direction its magic pulled upon him.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Darkness descended fully upon him as the grave keeper withdrew with the torch.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The fitful orange glow almost completely swallowed up by the fog before Muri found his voice again.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“Master Malenos?” he called out, turning toward the distant pool of orange in the mist.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The light stopped, wavering as its bearer turned, the shadow of his body looming for a brief moment as he turned.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>“The marker named her ‘sister’.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>To whom was she sister?<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Do they yet live?”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“Aye, lad.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>A brother she ‘ad.” Came the fog-softened reply, “Bein’ now th’ clothier, Walter.”</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>“My thanks again.” He acknowledged as he turned and headed once more back to the glen.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He summoned a witchlight to banish the darkness and watched for the trees that the grave keeper had spoken of.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p><FONT face="Times New Roman" size=3> </FONT></o:p></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>The watchers at the trees found him first, one of them gliding silently from the mists to meet him.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>The opossum’s weapons were sheathed, her bow slung, and she introduced herself as Bearle.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>They had seen him pass with Kunma, and had expected his return.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>As she led him through the misty darkness of the forest Bearle talked lightly about many things and flirted quite brazenly, to no avail.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Muri had Llyn, even though she was for the moment imprisoned, so he responded disarmingly.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>He learned as she carried the conversation, letting her dictate each subject as it arose.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>In due course she revealed that Kunma the grave keeper was not actually a drunkard, but that he had suffered a brain storm two years previous that left him in his impaired state.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Kunma hid his affliction behind the façade of inebriation rather than have people pity him for his infirmity.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>He also learned that the reason for her brazen flirtatiousness was the result of a recent ending of a lengthy relationship with the glen’s resident skunk and master-bowyer, Bercham, sergeant-at-arms of the glen’s archers.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Of course, she assured him, Muri was far more handsome, well spoken, and polite.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><FONT size=3><FONT face="Times New Roman"><SPAN style="mso-tab-count: 1">            </SPAN>When he inquired about the reason for the break-up she hedged and dodged until she could switch subjects to talk about the failed raid staged by Calephas that past summer.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Muri let her dodge the painful subject and let her lead him back to the edges of the glen, listening with only half of his attention, still confused and at a loss about the discovery of his mother’s grave.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Bearle stopped at the edge of the glen and watched Murikeer’s back appreciatively until the fog shrouded him.<SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes">  </SPAN>Smiling to herself she turned and made her way back toward her post, whistling softly.</FONT></FONT></div> <div class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><o:p><FONT face="Times New Roman" 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