to Kyzok.", the young sorcerer harumphed.

"Well, be that as it may... ", the young rogue sarcastically paused, "I for one

am tired and think we surely need to rest and regain some strength.".

The rogue continued, "In the span of less than five hours, I have fought an

army of orc grunts, dueled and been harassed by their shamans and wizards, then

after finally defeating their captains and getting that damnable map, I have

waded waist-deep through murky swamp and been gnawed upon by those blasted

fish!".

"If you think for one moment that I am going to blindly wander down this path

and waltz into whatever is waiting for me. Then you sir are totally off your

rocker! ", the brash rogue exclaimed.

"Now, why in the name of Malishakan are you staring at me like that? ", the

loud rogue asked exasperatedly.

"duh.. Unh.. Big.. Ummmmmm.. RUN!!! ", the eloquent sorcerer shouted.

The rogue slowly turned around and stared into the dirty and flea infested

groin of some large humanoid. Looking up the young man was struck by a dollop

of spittle that slowly ran down his cheek to splatter on his fine armor.

Devoid of anymore liquid to release, the young rogue grabbed for his sword,

which was possibly the only thing left his fear-maddened brain could think of.

A thick club, made from the trunk of a small oak tree, crashed down atop the

rogue's head, splattering brain and bits of bone across the flower-lined path.

Perhaps this is why they grow in such vibrant and healthy colors? Meanwhile,

the rogue's friend had wasted no time in casting a spell that would surely come

of some great benefit.

The young sorcerer chants the magical phrase, 'Nu War Isstag'.

The young sorcerer disappears.