Euvgeni ponders the last few days and the events surrounding them. "In the end we achieved some modicum of success. The rogue beholders have been eliminated and Tolmaq’s brood is now gone for good, at least until this generation forgets." Euvgeni thinks to himself. "Well, maybe we can make a living out of beholder-hunting, assuming, of course, that we’ve got a few on our side. I never would have thought I’d face a beholder and enjoy the contest!" Euvgeni recognises the quiet steps of the bard, his lute string catching a tassel on his cloak. Euvgeni stands, looking at the floor, deep in thought.

The door creaks open, but Joranth barely notices it. Given the tense situation in the city outside, his usual reaction would be to jump up, Longtooth at the ready and the words of a spell on his lips. Not this time; too much has happened, too many things are running through the halfling’s mind.

On Joranth’s conscience weigh many things his race was never destined to ponder. On one hand, he has a duty to his race, and to the world. To following that duty he must pick up the staff of Mundiree and swear to lead the halflings and gnomes with her blessings. On the other hand, there is Cha-im, the God that has aided him for almost three decades. Cha-im had been with Joranth even during the worst periods of his life.

Joranth’s thoughts rush on… Cha-im was not a widely followed God and the loss of a half-mad halfling would surely hurt; but not as much as it would hurt Joranth in his feelings of betrayal. What could a farmer god possibly know about war anyway? No—that is not fair. When a God of War is near, is his power really needed in the heat of battle? Decisions, decisions…

"Joranth, are you okay?" asks Damalanthas, as the others enter the room. Joranth stares vacantly for a few moments at Damus, before his senses return. Euvgeni looks up at the small figure and cocks his head as the halfling’s face loses its faraway look. Looking at the others, Joranth utters his first words in almost 8 hours...

"I have a favour to ask," he starts, biting his lip, "as you know, I... am in a great deal of trouble. If I do not get the Staff of Mundiree shortly, my soul is going to be reft from my body and suspended between planes, forever stuck there. I need help, more than I have ever needed it before. I don’t know if you can really help in the last part, but I... we... if you will... have to find it... At the moment I would rather jump on my own sword than face an eternity..." Joranth shudders, "nowhere."

Euvgeni looks on impassively, thinking to himself that he should probably go down south to see if Operation Hydra is working, not to mention checking on the lizardmen…

Turning to each of the members present in turn, Joranth speaks:

"Damalanthas?"

"Euvgeni?"

"Souriin?"

"Owen?"

"Tekuna?"

"Would you do me the honour and the big favour of coming with me in search of this blasted rod. In a way I am asking you to help me save myself?"

Euvgeni speaks first. "It’s about time you asked, I was beginning to worry that you’d go off on your own. I, for one, know that this has to be our next step. Not only for Joranth but for informational value as well. We know very little about any of our antagonists in the South, and as far as I am concerned, we do not want to leave a dangerous enemy at our backs."

Joranth gives a weary grin. "I still have my fatal flaw. I can never thank you enough; I fear that the next two weeks are going to be both horrible and wonderful. I am grateful that I can rely on a friend like you and I am proud beyond belief, to call you such!"

Joranth’s smile turns grim. "And I agree, even if we fail in my quest, the information is important. War is coming. I can feel its tidings in the wind, and ignorance will benefit no one who wishes to survive. The time of guessing is past, now is the time for action and searching for answers, war plans will follow, and then bloodshed and death. How long we do not know; I do not know, but I fear we may have left some things a late".

Damalanthas speaks: "I haven’t had a great quest to sing about for some time. I was getting worried that you would split on us and deny me the honour of recording your doo... your victory in song. And what Euvgeni said about the lizards as well."

"Thanks Dam," replies Joranth "I just hope that I live to hear the song ring out through the rafters. Who knows, maybe when you find your muse again, your spells might function better" finished Joranth with a dry chuckle.

Souriin thinks to himself: "While in some societies, it is said that the talkers are possessed by the gods, it is often wondered why the gods grant a silence spell with such a wide radius. As it is with all things, while bards and warriors chatter, the real work is left to the wizards." While the circle meets and discusses what was to be done, Souriin, seeing that only one course of action remains (whatever that might be), decides to restore the mighty energies that were once his. After a night spent jumping through buildings, trying to escape crazed, bloodthirsty and rather disagreeable beholders, he falls asleep in a corner, disguised as a pile of rubble.

"Souriin?" asks Joranth. He smiles, as a snore from the corner is the only reply. Muttering a few words, Joranth concentrates on Souriin. Within seconds, most of the cuts and scrapes disappear and Souriin sleeps easier.

Damalanthas comments: "Let sleeping wizards be. It’s the only time they don’t get you into trouble!"

Euvgeni speaks again. "We warrior races require less sleep to recover what we’ve lost. If no discussion had come to pass then ol’ Joranth would’ve just snuck out to pursue his pine box and daisies. As it is, I can’t see us getting the darned thing in time anyway. So I guess we’ll just spew a bit of discord down there, lop off a few heads and generally piss off the incumbent leaders of the opposition."

Joranth thinks "Hmmm, this chap talks my language at the moment... of course, I’ll have to settle for lopping knees, but still!"

Damus smiles at the sentiments of the two warriors, and thinks "Oh well, out of the frying pan, into the fire!"