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"What is a life but a vessel for the filling?"
What am I?
Who am I?
Am I alive?
Am I dead?
What is this below me? What am I sitting against?
What is this blackness around me?
I can feel something; therefore, I must not be dead.
Where did I come from?
Why can't I remember?
What am I doing here?
Why am I here?
WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER?
Wait… There are voices… I can hear movement…

And so she could. She opened her eyes and beheld a frightening scene. The still smoldering ruins of a building lay in pieces mere meters from the point where she lay. Her view expanded to take in the rest of a recently ruined city. A shattered longbow lay on the ground next to her and the blade of a long dagger lay near her hand; the hilt remained in her hand. She tilted her head to look towards the sound that had roused her. A splitting pain in her head caused her to regret this. She opened her eyes again, slowly, and looked towards the sound. A group of armed soldiers clambered about the ruins. Occasionally, a scream split the air from somewhere in the ruins. A few hundred meters away, she heard the crying of a child suddenly cease and a mother's wail cut short. She rolled to the side and vomited. Her vision blurred slightly and she dropped deep into a state of unconsciousness.

Consciousness returned suddenly; the warm glow of a fire bathed the inside of her eyelids and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment filled the air. What felt like a rope wrapped around her wrists and ankles, scratching her limbs and binding her to a pole, which supported the pavilion, against which she sat. The fire crackled and popped as she opened her eyes. A man of great age sat at a small table, penning a document of some sort. He stopped his writing as she turned her head to look at him. His burning red eyes met her gaze and he smiled a crooked smile; he was missing several teeth and the ones he had bore the stains of many years of improper care. He raised is bony hands and reached towards her, clenching his fist except for one finger left crooked towards her face.

White hot pain burned through her mind, causing a scream to rip from her throat. She needed to die; the pain was too much. It was killing her too slowly, even though time no longer seemed to flow, her back arched and she screamed once more. She could feel the inside of her throat slowly tearing as the sound fled her body through it.

"KILL ME! LET ME DIE!! PLEASE!! I C-C-CAN'T DO THIS ANYM-M-MORE," she sobbed; begging to be allowed to die by this strange man sitting before her. Darkness began to close around her mind; she welcomed it and urged it to come closer, wanting to revel in the lack of feeling.

"Oh no, you are not dying so easily; I plan to have so much more fun with you. Isn't this exciting?" He cackled madly and raised his other hand, gesturing towards her abdomen. The darkness fled from her mind and the pain intensified, her nerves becoming far more sensitive to pain. The pain in her head was joined by a swath of pure wrath in her abdomen; it was as if molten gold was being stabbed into her stomach.

Her voice gave out and her mouth remained stretched open in a silent scream. Time passed, or it didn't; she wasn't sure which. The pain remained unrelenting, unwavering, and unmaking. She wasn't sure when the pain stopped, but eventually she found herself sitting on the ground, still tied to the pole, in a pool of bloody sweat and urine. The man had returned to his documents, reading some and scribbling on others. A young child garbed in a dark robe and cloak entered the pavilion and handed him a sheath of documents. The child's face was concealed in the deep cowl of the cloak, but as the man sent her away, for the cheek bones indicated that the child was a girl, she looked at her pain-wrecked body and smiled with glee before leaving, her face now visible beneath the cowl.

The fire had died down and the man stood and faced her. Before he could speak, though, a page ran into the room and bowed quickly before him.

"Sir, the western portion of the camp is on fire!" he blurted out. He left quickly, awaiting no reply and forgetting to bow again as he left. The man hurried out on his heels, bursting through the tent flap. She could see a red glow in the velvet night sky before the tent flap fell back into place. She idly wondered what would happen to her if the camp burned down. She would probably die. The old man would be back though; he had left those papers and they looked pretty important based on how he had been pouring over them for however long he had been sitting there.

A noise outside the tent flap made her look over, curious as to its source. The flap rose and a very tall and well armored being confidently stepped into the pavilion. He stepped further into the pavilion and into the light of the dying fire. He held a large warhammer easily in one hand and a greatsword in the other. His armor caught the remaining light and shone even in the dark of the tent. She tried to get his attention, but her swollen tongue turned the sound into a soft, unintelligible moan blocked out by the man's helmet.  He stepped further into the tent and sat down at the desk for a moment to peruse the papers. She tried to moan again and this time he looked up and began to study his surroundings. When he caught sight of her mangled body, he let out a sharp gasp and hurried to her side. Kneeling on the floor he whispered into her ear.

"My humble apologies miss; I did not see you here," he said, "We do not have very long; He'll be back soon." She mumbled something unintelligible in reply; even she wasn't sure what she was trying to say. He sheathed his great sword in a sheath dangling across his back and drew a dagger the length of her forearm. He moved behind her and cut the bindings that bound her wrists. She fell to the side, unable to gain control of her muscles, and he quickly slashed the bindings around her ankles. He returned the dagger to its sheath and pulled her over his shoulder, where he sagged, ungracefully, like a half full sack of grain banging into his back as her weight carried her around from his lifting throw.

He quickly walked to the tent flap and darted through it; right into the waiting, manic grins of a dozen men-at-arms. They stood in a group, filling the clearing around the pavilion as though they had watched him enter. The fire burned to the west, filling the sky with a demonic hue; it had spread to cover a large portion of the western side of the camp. A few small tents backed into the clearing, but most of the other tents stood a respectful distance from this central pavilion. The men-at-arms charged.

He bellowed mightily and swung his hammer. The levity fled from their faces, followed swiftly by the air from the body of the first to charge him as his hammer made contact with his chest, caving it in and launching him back into the crowd. The front rank of charging men-at-arms froze. This was obviously no easy adversary.

A brave soul in the rear threw a javelin with all his might. It raced through the distance separating him from the large warrior and struck the man's armor with a jarring clang. He bellowed once more and drew back his hammer, lifting it high above his head in one easy motion, before flinging it head over handle towards the offending gnat, whose face promptly exploded before he even registered his impending doom, showering those near him with bits of brain and fragments of skull. The men-at-arms looked at him and their grins returned once more, only to slide away again as he returned their grins. He set her body down on the ground behind him and slowly drew his greatsword, which made a resounding hiss against the leather of his scabbard. He gripped the pommel with his free hand and spread out in a fighting stance, ready to take on any who dared to charge him.

During this time, the fire had been moving steadily closer and had begun to threaten the group squaring off. Her rescuer shouted a quick prayer to Heironeous and, in response, his sword began to glow a bright color, similar to sunshine but interlaced with blue arcs.

"I warn you, attacking now is not a swell idea. It would be a most fortuitous decision of yours to surrender now," he said in a somber voice, "I am not going to die so easily and the fire is behind you while I stand in front of you, blocking your only way out. " A high-pitched cackle sounded from the rear of the crowd and the men-at-arms spread ranks to allow a clear path to appear in the middle of the crowd. The old man who had been sitting at the table earlier, her torturer, stood there. His robes smoldered and bore the holes of one who had walked through a large fire, but he appeared relatively unscathed.

"You seek to block our way?! YOU?! You seek to deny us a way out? HA!" he shrieked, his voice much higher and grating upon the ears of all those listening. "Give me Senliari and I will let you live, bitch of Heironeous." Senliari is my name? she idly wondered. How does he know this? There was no time for idle thought at this moment though; she needed to get up, she needed to get away; this man would kill her. She found the thought of being dragged back into his captivity to be most horrifying. The man, obviously a paladin, had a dagger on his belt; if she could reach this, maybe she could save her mind. She reached tentatively up to grab it but the paladin stepped forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling a small red phial from it.

"Drink this," he whispered to her, "Then grab my dagger, we're going to run for it." obviously he had felt her reach for the dagger, but he had misjudged her intentions completely. She drank the red liquid, as he had asked, and felt better immediately; energy flooded through her body, leaving her feeling light and somewhat hopeful. The two of them could do this. "Why would I give her to you?" he asked with a snide tone, "Return to the foul abyss from whence you came, damned demon."

The old man, now known to her as a demon, chuckled and raised his hands. A beam of the purest shadow sprang forth from its hands and crackled through the men-at-arms towards the paladin. It stopped and exploded around them in a parabolic shape before dissipating into the night, apparently confounded by an invisible aura of the paladin's own. The men-at-arms who had been standing there a moment before, now dropped to the ground as husks, drained of life by the demon's spell. The demon took a step forward and readied itself to jump at them.
Senliari realized that she now felt strong enough to stand. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, staying behind him, and quietly pulled his dagger from its sheath. The paladin stepped forward and prepared to engage the demon. "I'll be right back," she whispered, "I want to see if I can salvage anything I had earlier." She fled into the tent. It was empty except for a locked chest, for which she didn't see a key, the glowing embers of the fire, and the table. The remnants of the fire glowed just brightly enough for her to see. A small, fist-sized bag sat haphazardly on the edge of the table; if somebody were to nudge it, it would fall off, spilling whatever it contained.

She walked over to it and peered inside. An unimaginable wealth was contained within the sack; she could start over with this. She could go to a city and get her memory restored or start over completely. She grabbed the bag, which weighed far less than the money inside it should, and did one last once-over of the inside of the pavilion. Nothing caught her eye except the bindings that lay all but forgotten on the ground next to the tent pole. She shuddered as she glanced at them, and left the tent.

The paladin and the demon stood toe-to-toe, interlocked in an embrace of death. The paladin had obviously tried to strike at the demon's head, but it looked as if the demon had grabbed the edge of the greatsword between thumb and forefinger and was currently holding it there and staring into the paladin's eyes. Except for the crackle of the unseen flames, though the heat was all too close, there was no noise. That was definitely not a good sign. Surely they should be moving about or grunting or something, anything other than standing still. A contest of wills would surely be to the advantage of the demon. Using the only thing that came to mind, she threw the dagger at the demon, managing to hit it squarely in the eye. It reeled back in shock, losing its concentration. A harsh golden light began to spread around it before diminishing and dying away, at which, the demon chuckled menacingly.

"YOUR GOD HAS NO POWER HERE, WHELP!" it bellowed. The demon began to shimmer and a dark light crackled around its body. Senliari felt nauseas as she gazed upon the scene.

"RUN!" yelled the paladin. He took his own advice and fled into the tents away from the red glow, which suddenly grew brighter as the wall of tents nearest the clearing erupted into fire so hot, the heat burned them thirty feet away in the center of the clearing. She dashed off in pursuit of the paladin, clasping the purse tightly. They weaved through lines of tents, taking care not to trip over any tent lines. The fire seemed to have grown and it seemed to be accelerating, as if a supernatural force compelled it to devour the two who dared to flee its wrath.

An unseen tent wire caused her to trip and fall. Her face landed in the grass and the fire roared closer. She quickly rolled over to get up and, as she did so, she caught a glance at the sky. From the area around the clearing, the demon sprung high into the air; now in its true form, the great beast unfurled its wings and twirled around, surrounded by smoke and tendrils of flame reaching into the sky. The heat of the fire caused the hair on her head to begin to smolder and her eyebrows to sizzle, the resulting smell twisting her stomach further. The paladin turned around and pointed at her.

"Come on, come on! You need to move faster!" urged the paladin. She quickly jumped to her feet and ran, careful not to trip over the wire once again but almost hitting it anyway. The pair passed several groups of fleeing men-at-arms and quite a few more groups of those less lucky. They had been trampled or killed outright in the rush to escape. A few were obviously even worse off for luck, for a new sound joined the cacophony: The agonized screams of those caught by the fire. The heat, already unnaturally hot, must have been vastly exacerbated by their armor. She couldn't imagine what the paladin was going through right now. The thought forced bile into the back of her throat and she bent over, vomiting everywhere.

A few minutes later, the edge of the camp became visible. The surviving men-at-arms appeared to be fleeing into the countryside. They would likely form bandit groups, but there was nothing to do for it. The only thing separating the pair from the road into the city was a field of waist-high grass, which they began to cross. The grass left damp stripes across her leggings and a sheen of bright liquid coalesced upon the lower portion of the paladin's armor. They reached the road and looked back at the camp, which had mostly burnt to a cinder by this time. The smell of burnt canvas, flesh, and a plethora of other items reached them across the field, causing an itch to simmer in her nose. The demon circled above the camp, rising and falling on updrafts, wings fully outspread.

"We should probably rest until morning behind the tree line. No fire," admonished the paladin, as if she were an idiot. They walked off the road on the other side and headed into the trees. They said nothing, beyond light pleasantries, as they set up a small campsite. ¬

"Thank you for saving me," Senliari said when she realized she had not properly thanked the paladin.

"Think nothing of it, I doubt you would do otherwise for another creature in my place," replied the paladin, "If you don't mind, Curiosity is a cruel and heartless bitch. What is in the purse?"

"Gold, lots of it, from the demon's tent," Senliari replied, "I can use it to restart my life."

"That is theft!" replied the paladin, his voice rising with anger, "You shouldn't have taken it."

"I need something; all I have without this gold is a burnt tunic and leggings," answered Senliari. This was true; the grey tunic and leggings she had woken up with this morning in the demon's tent were slightly burnt and full of holes from the fire. "Besides," she continued, "I deserve 'something' from this ordeal."

"Keep your gold," said the paladin, heavily, "but we part ways in the morning." The paladin turned and walked towards the road. He let out a piercing whistle and was answered by the short neighing of a now approaching warhorse. When the horse grew near, he opened the saddlebag that it bore and pulled out two blankets. He walked back and threw one to her. "Get a few hours of sleep."

The day dawned cold and bright as the paladin and Senliari rose to begin the day. A few hours of meditation had restored her to a wakeful state and she was ready to get to the city where she could hire a mage to fix her memory. She returned the blanket to the paladin and began to walk towards the road. She stopped and turned around as a sudden realization dawned on her.

"May I ask you for a pair of shoes?" She asked.

"I wish I could, but the only shoes I have are these boots that I am wearing now, which I rather need and I doubt would fit you," the paladin replied, "I wish I could though. Farewell, may you make it to the city safely." He walked over to her and lifted his hand to put it on her shoulder.  A feeling of warmth diffused through her, permeating every cell of her being. He removed his hand and the feeling of warmth faded away. She was sorry to feel it go. He looked into her eyes, nodded, and left.

She walked to the road, clutching the purse, her future, in her hands. The clicking of hooves announced the departure of the paladin. Neither one looked back. She walked down the road, feeling every crack in the cobblestone underfoot. She eventually reached the top of a hill and beheld a large city a few miles further down the road…

The paladin rode down the road, fuming and staring into the sky. He had thought to take the lass and train her; she could be such a great asset to Heironeous. She had survived torture under that beast and had placed a great throw into the thing's eye. It would be just his luck that the damned elf would turn out to be a thief. It didn't matter though, the blessing he had bestowed upon her would keep her safe on her way into the city where she would be by the time the blessing expired by nightfall.

A sharp snapping sound behind him caused him to turn quickly and move his hand to the pommel of his greatsword; he wished he hadn't thrown his hammer, he rather liked it and it had carried him through quite a few battles. Nell, his mount, stopped moving as he did so. Nothing was there, merely the plume of dust raised by Nell. He turned to face the front once again. Nell's head was on the ground, staining it with a steaming puddle of blood. The demon raised its hand towards his chest and thrust it into his body, pulling his skeleton from his skin with a sharp yank. His eyes, whirling in their now unguarded sockets, continued to transmit data to his brain. He watched the demon quickly devour his body and that of Nell, flinging scraps of flesh everywhere. When this grisly feast was finished, the demon turned its head to his skeleton. "Farewell," it hissed with a chuckle as it crushed his skull…

A great influx of people awaited her at the city gates, a few looked fearfully back at the still rising cloud of smoke, but most seemed to be typical visitors to the city: a farmer delivering some vegetables in the back of a wagon, a few travelers, and a group of returning warders marching in step with one another.

The guards looked her ratty clothes over once, giving her a sneer, before letting her pass through the gates; she obviously posed no threat to the people housed within. The smell of the city hit her first. Unwashed bodies and muddy refuse mingles with the sweet scent of baking bread. She followed the scent deeper into the city, passing through several quarters. Now would be a good time to find some supplies…

…Later that evening she entered the Prancing Pony, an inn near the center of the city. A pair of Halflings drunkenly danced on one of the tables, singing a song about a green dragon. She walked up to the innkeeper, who eyed her new purchases with a cautious eye; she had spent quite a pretty penny all the things she would need in the coming months. If she cared to blow her own horn, she thought she had made out rather well. She still had enough money left over to commission a few mages to fix her memory and enough to pay for a room for the night.

"Senliari?" asked the innkeeper.

"Yes?" she replied, suddenly cautious. How did the innkeeper know her name?

"This came for you an hour ago," said the innkeeper as she handed over a letter. Senliari opened the letter and pulled out a note written on a weird, but familiar feeling surface.

I will find you… I will kill you…

She dropped the note, and it caught fire as it fell; she jumped back to avoid it hitting her feet and burning her. The air filled with the stench of burning flesh and as the note hit the floor it turned into a severed hand. The only identifying feature of the hand was a ring. The paladin had worn a ring quite similar. The hand dissolved into a pile of fingernails, which dissolved into a pile of ash. The inn was utterly silent; every single eye in the room was locked on her.

A single tear threatened to fall from her eye; nowhere would be safe, she would have to run. She threw a coin down on the bar and fled into the hallway. The third door on the right was unlocked and she entered. A bed sat made and a table waited at the far end of the room. A basin and a mirror sat on the table. A window at the rear of the room let a small amount of light into the room, mostly blocked by the building across the alley.

She walked to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Her eyebrows were missing and she still looked a little singed and smudged around the edges. The peeling and the hair growing back in would itch for weeks. A few areas on her arms seemed slightly blackened and they already itched. Her reflection was quite noticeable and way too easy to memorize. She would need to completely change, become the opposite of who she was.

She drew her knife and swiftly cut her hair down to a shortened length. She walked about the room, changing things about herself here and there until she had made a circuit of the room. The face of a male elf stared back out at her from the mirror. It would do.

"Call me… Sen…" the reflection muttered. He would have to leave here; staying would be to invite something unfortunate to occur. He peered out the window; nobody waited in the alley. He propped the window open, and edged himself out. He moved three steps down the alley and the room exploded behind him.

He took off. The sound of shouting followed him out of the alley and the stunned stares of the crowds greeted him as he jettisoned from between the two buildings. The crowd grudgingly budged to let him pass as he barreled into it. The demon had tracked him into the city.

A flood of city guards rushed towards the inn and probably what would be their deaths. One of the guards looked to be a human no older than thirteen; a lock of blond hair grew out from under the open face of his helmet, separating a pair of bright violet eyes. Why was he in the guard? He wondered what would happen to him. Their eyes met and Senliari looked away.

A long, spindly-limbed creature opened a door a few feet away.

"Hey, you, Senliari… Come quickly!" it beckoned to her. The creature backed into the doorway, out of sight. He walked over to the building and entered. The door shut behind her.

"Hello?" he called out, "Is anybody there?"

"Hello Senliari…" said a wizened voice from a back room. "Come and join us." He walked towards the voice; it did not seem to be a voice filled with malice and something told him he could trust the voice. The back room was well lit and two very old men sat in red, high-backed chairs facing each other in the middle of the room. They were smoking pipes and blowing oddly shaped smoke in a contest to see who could make the better shape.

"You seek to have your memory restored," stated the man on the left. He wore voluminous purple robes. An open book sat on his lap and a picture of what looked to be a brain filled the page. Odd scribbling covered the page. "We believe we can make the attempt. STRINGBEN!" he called, "Go fetch Raldo." He got up and put the book on the bookshelf and began to search for another, running his fingers along the leathery spine of each book.

"How do you know this?" asked Senliari, unable to keep a note of suspicion out of his voice.

"I know everything," he replied, "I wouldn't keep backing up, if you do, Raldo will hit you with the door on his way in." As if on cue, the door slammed open and an armored dwarf walked in, a tankard of mead in hand and his breath causing those in the room to feel a pleasant buzz while his smell negated the effect.

"Whatchya, hic, want Derani?" slurred Raldo, "I was just, hic, about to begin me supper." His beard was covered in the grease of some kind of meat and old stains covered the lower portion of it.

"Oh, I thought you were out picking daisies Raldo!" cheerfully replied Derani, still looking for the book.

"Your brains are wasted among you two," drawled the other man, who had until this time chosen to remain quiet. "This durned elf probably thinks you are both damned fools with your silly games and parlor tricks." The dwarf blanched at him, rolled up his sleeves, and fainted. The tankard of mead shattered against the hardwood floor and mead sloshed everywhere.

"Ahh, but is it truly a parlor trick if years of study went into the formation of it?" retorted Derani, ignoring the collapsed dwarf. "Most of your spells seem to be mere fancies, Pilom, requiring no study at all."

"Bah, you and your dry books," sighed Pilom, "Alas, we digress. Senliari, come here." He beckoned him over. Senliari took a few tentative steps towards him, resulting in a dirty look from Pilom and a frenzied waving motion. He moved a few steps away from him. Pilom sighed and got up. He put his hand on Senliari's head and closed his eyes. A few minutes elapsed before he reopened his eyes.

"I am sorry lass… erm, lad," He said, the other two looked at him quizzically. "The wall against your memory is huge, far stronger than our not meager powers. A god or a goddess did this."

"So, I guess you will be on your way then," said Derani, nonchalantly. "We will be no help for you. We don't need payment, though it seems you couldn't pay anyway; you left your bag of gold in your room." Shit… He had left it. It didn't matter though; one simply didn't need money in the wilderness. Without a word, he turned around and walked out.

He walked to the city gate and joined the throng of people milling about to leave before the gates closed. His appearance caused a few interested looks, and a few gold pieces changed hands among the guards that had been there earlier. Senliari shot them a dirty look and walked out into the wilderness once again.

As Senliari trudged down the path, the sun to his front, he spotted the forest in which he had spent the previous night. A light noise caused him to turn around just in time to see a large wolf like creature spring and jump onto his shoulders. They looked into each other's eyes and Senliari felt a binding snap. Raven… That was the magnificent animal's name. Raven licked his face and sat down. It felt like they knew each other.

Senliari set off once more; Raven bouncing back and forth across the path. The pair stepped into the forest. The atmosphere felt different, slightly less oppressing than it had been the night before. The lack of a demon circling above their heads probably helped with this.

The sound of screams filled the air from a small distance away. Raven's ears pricked and his hackles rose. The hunting cry of a group of wyverns rent the air. Raven took off towards the sound. Senliari gave the wolf a count of ten, and sprang off through the trees in the same direction, silently leaping from branch to branch, not even startling the squirrel he landed next to.

The edge of a clearing came into view.  A flock of wyverns crowded around two figures; a halfling and an elf. The elf looked somewhat sickened and the halfling narrowly dodged a series of attacks from a wyvern before narrowly dodging its companion's attacks. She fled across the field into the safety of the forest. The elf fled as well, but veered to the side as a second pair of wyverns sprang upon him. He stopped for a moment and a stream of lightening split the field killing three of the wyverns; one of which exploded into a rain of ash and guts which sprinkled over the field to the sound of a surreal rustling noise.

Senliari raised his longbow and took aim at the wyvern next to the elf. It was moving too much to get a good shot. Before he could manage a shot though, the beast jabbed its sting into the chest of the elf, who sank to his knees¸ a stream of blood already flowing from his mouth. The elf fell forward, dead.

Cries of shock rippled from the forest near the elf as what must have been his party registered his death. A gnome on a black stone cat flashed onto the field and grabbed the body, dragging it back into the trees. The party quickly fled deeper into the woods, crashing through the underbrush and startling several small animals. He silently moved to finish off the wyverns.

He balanced on a branch at the end of the field. The branch didn't dip or bend under his weight. Raven waited at the bottom of a tree, unable to do anything other than bark at the beasts. His first arrow flew from his bow, boring through the skull of one of the remaining wyverns. The beast made no sound as it barreled towards the earth though the other remaining wyvern looked up at the sound of the body hitting the ground. He took a breath, drew another arrow, and sighted down the length of the ash shaft. In a fluid movement, he released the arrow; the last wyvern was dead, it just didn't know it yet. The arrow exploded into the throat of the wyvern, causing it to veer into the ground. Unable to draw breath, it drowned as blood filled its lungs. Raven flew off after it, wanting to take a few bites out of it, perhaps just to feel involved in the kill.

As he clambered down from the tree, he wondered what would become of the party he has just watched flee into the forest, back the way he had come from. Their tracks were still fresh, and rather obvious. He shouldered his bow and whistled for Raven to return to his side. The wolf did so with a yip of glee and rubbed against his side. In response, Senliari scratched the wolf on the top of the head.

The tracks lead to a small clearing with a spring on one side and a trio of evergreen trees in the middle. They had dug a rather nice pit and lowered the body into it; after which, they stood there staring at the grave for a few minutes. Senliari crept to a few feet behind them, folded his arms, and waited to be noticed…

Description
"What is a life but a vessel for the filling?"
What am I?
Who am I?
Am I alive?
Am I dead?
What is this below me? What am I sitting against?
What is this blackness around me?
I can feel something; therefore, I must not be dead.
Where did I come from?
Why can't I remember?
What am I doing here?
Why am I here?
WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER?
Wait… There are voices… I can hear movement…

And so she could. She opened her eyes and beheld a frightening scene. The still smoldering ruins of a building lay in pieces mere meters from the point where she lay. Her view expanded to take in the rest of a recently ruined city. A shattered longbow lay on the ground next to her and the blade of a long dagger lay near her hand; the hilt remained in her hand. She tilted her head to look towards the sound that had roused her. A splitting pain in her head caused her to regret this. She opened her eyes again, slowly, and looked towards the sound. A group of armed soldiers clambered about the ruins. Occasionally, a scream split the air from somewhere in the ruins. A few hundred meters away, she heard the crying of a child suddenly cease and a mother's wail cut short. She rolled to the side and vomited. Her vision blurred slightly and she dropped deep into a state of unconsciousness.

Consciousness returned suddenly; the warm glow of a fire bathed the inside of her eyelids and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment filled the air. What felt like a rope wrapped around her wrists and ankles, scratching her limbs and binding her to a pole, which supported the pavilion, against which she sat. The fire crackled and popped as she opened her eyes. A man of great age sat at a small table, penning a document of some sort. He stopped his writing as she turned her head to look at him. His burning red eyes met her gaze and he smiled a crooked smile; he was missing several teeth and the ones he had bore the stains of many years of improper care. He raised is bony hands and reached towards her, clenching his fist except for one finger left crooked towards her face.

White hot pain burned through her mind, causing a scream to rip from her throat. She needed to die; the pain was too much. It was killing her too slowly, even though time no longer seemed to flow, her back arched and she screamed once more. She could feel the inside of her throat slowly tearing as the sound fled her body through it.

"KILL ME! LET ME DIE!! PLEASE!! I C-C-CAN'T DO THIS ANYM-M-MORE," she sobbed; begging to be allowed to die by this strange man sitting before her. Darkness began to close around her mind; she welcomed it and urged it to come closer, wanting to revel in the lack of feeling.

"Oh no, you are not dying so easily; I plan to have so much more fun with you. Isn't this exciting?" He cackled madly and raised his other hand, gesturing towards her abdomen. The darkness fled from her mind and the pain intensified, her nerves becoming far more sensitive to pain. The pain in her head was joined by a swath of pure wrath in her abdomen; it was as if molten gold was being stabbed into her stomach.

Her voice gave out and her mouth remained stretched open in a silent scream. Time passed, or it didn't; she wasn't sure which. The pain remained unrelenting, unwavering, and unmaking. She wasn't sure when the pain stopped, but eventually she found herself sitting on the ground, still tied to the pole, in a pool of bloody sweat and urine. The man had returned to his documents, reading some and scribbling on others. A young child garbed in a dark robe and cloak entered the pavilion and handed him a sheath of documents. The child's face was concealed in the deep cowl of the cloak, but as the man sent her away, for the cheek bones indicated that the child was a girl, she looked at her pain-wrecked body and smiled with glee before leaving, her face now visible beneath the cowl.

The fire had died down and the man stood and faced her. Before he could speak, though, a page ran into the room and bowed quickly before him.

"Sir, the western portion of the camp is on fire!" he blurted out. He left quickly, awaiting no reply and forgetting to bow again as he left. The man hurried out on his heels, bursting through the tent flap. She could see a red glow in the velvet night sky before the tent flap fell back into place. She idly wondered what would happen to her if the camp burned down. She would probably die. The old man would be back though; he had left those papers and they looked pretty important based on how he had been pouring over them for however long he had been sitting there.

A noise outside the tent flap made her look over, curious as to its source. The flap rose and a very tall and well armored being confidently stepped into the pavilion. He stepped further into the pavilion and into the light of the dying fire. He held a large warhammer easily in one hand and a greatsword in the other. His armor caught the remaining light and shone even in the dark of the tent. She tried to get his attention, but her swollen tongue turned the sound into a soft, unintelligible moan blocked out by the man's helmet.  He stepped further into the tent and sat down at the desk for a moment to peruse the papers. She tried to moan again and this time he looked up and began to study his surroundings. When he caught sight of her mangled body, he let out a sharp gasp and hurried to her side. Kneeling on the floor he whispered into her ear.

"My humble apologies miss; I did not see you here," he said, "We do not have very long; He'll be back soon." She mumbled something unintelligible in reply; even she wasn't sure what she was trying to say. He sheathed his great sword in a sheath dangling across his back and drew a dagger the length of her forearm. He moved behind her and cut the bindings that bound her wrists. She fell to the side, unable to gain control of her muscles, and he quickly slashed the bindings around her ankles. He returned the dagger to its sheath and pulled her over his shoulder, where he sagged, ungracefully, like a half full sack of grain banging into his back as her weight carried her around from his lifting throw.

He quickly walked to the tent flap and darted through it; right into the waiting, manic grins of a dozen men-at-arms. They stood in a group, filling the clearing around the pavilion as though they had watched him enter. The fire burned to the west, filling the sky with a demonic hue; it had spread to cover a large portion of the western side of the camp. A few small tents backed into the clearing, but most of the other tents stood a respectful distance from this central pavilion. The men-at-arms charged.

He bellowed mightily and swung his hammer. The levity fled from their faces, followed swiftly by the air from the body of the first to charge him as his hammer made contact with his chest, caving it in and launching him back into the crowd. The front rank of charging men-at-arms froze. This was obviously no easy adversary.

A brave soul in the rear threw a javelin with all his might. It raced through the distance separating him from the large warrior and struck the man's armor with a jarring clang. He bellowed once more and drew back his hammer, lifting it high above his head in one easy motion, before flinging it head over handle towards the offending gnat, whose face promptly exploded before he even registered his impending doom, showering those near him with bits of brain and fragments of skull. The men-at-arms looked at him and their grins returned once more, only to slide away again as he returned their grins. He set her body down on the ground behind him and slowly drew his greatsword, which made a resounding hiss against the leather of his scabbard. He gripped the pommel with his free hand and spread out in a fighting stance, ready to take on any who dared to charge him.

During this time, the fire had been moving steadily closer and had begun to threaten the group squaring off. Her rescuer shouted a quick prayer to Heironeous and, in response, his sword began to glow a bright color, similar to sunshine but interlaced with blue arcs.

"I warn you, attacking now is not a swell idea. It would be a most fortuitous decision of yours to surrender now," he said in a somber voice, "I am not going to die so easily and the fire is behind you while I stand in front of you, blocking your only way out. " A high-pitched cackle sounded from the rear of the crowd and the men-at-arms spread ranks to allow a clear path to appear in the middle of the crowd. The old man who had been sitting at the table earlier, her torturer, stood there. His robes smoldered and bore the holes of one who had walked through a large fire, but he appeared relatively unscathed.

"You seek to block our way?! YOU?! You seek to deny us a way out? HA!" he shrieked, his voice much higher and grating upon the ears of all those listening. "Give me Senliari and I will let you live, bitch of Heironeous." Senliari is my name? she idly wondered. How does he know this? There was no time for idle thought at this moment though; she needed to get up, she needed to get away; this man would kill her. She found the thought of being dragged back into his captivity to be most horrifying. The man, obviously a paladin, had a dagger on his belt; if she could reach this, maybe she could save her mind. She reached tentatively up to grab it but the paladin stepped forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling a small red phial from it.

"Drink this," he whispered to her, "Then grab my dagger, we're going to run for it." obviously he had felt her reach for the dagger, but he had misjudged her intentions completely. She drank the red liquid, as he had asked, and felt better immediately; energy flooded through her body, leaving her feeling light and somewhat hopeful. The two of them could do this. "Why would I give her to you?" he asked with a snide tone, "Return to the foul abyss from whence you came, damned demon."

The old man, now known to her as a demon, chuckled and raised his hands. A beam of the purest shadow sprang forth from its hands and crackled through the men-at-arms towards the paladin. It stopped and exploded around them in a parabolic shape before dissipating into the night, apparently confounded by an invisible aura of the paladin's own. The men-at-arms who had been standing there a moment before, now dropped to the ground as husks, drained of life by the demon's spell. The demon took a step forward and readied itself to jump at them.
Senliari realized that she now felt strong enough to stand. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, staying behind him, and quietly pulled his dagger from its sheath. The paladin stepped forward and prepared to engage the demon. "I'll be right back," she whispered, "I want to see if I can salvage anything I had earlier." She fled into the tent. It was empty except for a locked chest, for which she didn't see a key, the glowing embers of the fire, and the table. The remnants of the fire glowed just brightly enough for her to see. A small, fist-sized bag sat haphazardly on the edge of the table; if somebody were to nudge it, it would fall off, spilling whatever it contained.

She walked over to it and peered inside. An unimaginable wealth was contained within the sack; she could start over with this. She could go to a city and get her memory restored or start over completely. She grabbed the bag, which weighed far less than the money inside it should, and did one last once-over of the inside of the pavilion. Nothing caught her eye except the bindings that lay all but forgotten on the ground next to the tent pole. She shuddered as she glanced at them, and left the tent.

The paladin and the demon stood toe-to-toe, interlocked in an embrace of death. The paladin had obviously tried to strike at the demon's head, but it looked as if the demon had grabbed the edge of the greatsword between thumb and forefinger and was currently holding it there and staring into the paladin's eyes. Except for the crackle of the unseen flames, though the heat was all too close, there was no noise. That was definitely not a good sign. Surely they should be moving about or grunting or something, anything other than standing still. A contest of wills would surely be to the advantage of the demon. Using the only thing that came to mind, she threw the dagger at the demon, managing to hit it squarely in the eye. It reeled back in shock, losing its concentration. A harsh golden light began to spread around it before diminishing and dying away, at which, the demon chuckled menacingly.

"YOUR GOD HAS NO POWER HERE, WHELP!" it bellowed. The demon began to shimmer and a dark light crackled around its body. Senliari felt nauseas as she gazed upon the scene.

"RUN!" yelled the paladin. He took his own advice and fled into the tents away from the red glow, which suddenly grew brighter as the wall of tents nearest the clearing erupted into fire so hot, the heat burned them thirty feet away in the center of the clearing. She dashed off in pursuit of the paladin, clasping the purse tightly. They weaved through lines of tents, taking care not to trip over any tent lines. The fire seemed to have grown and it seemed to be accelerating, as if a supernatural force compelled it to devour the two who dared to flee its wrath.

An unseen tent wire caused her to trip and fall. Her face landed in the grass and the fire roared closer. She quickly rolled over to get up and, as she did so, she caught a glance at the sky. From the area around the clearing, the demon sprung high into the air; now in its true form, the great beast unfurled its wings and twirled around, surrounded by smoke and tendrils of flame reaching into the sky. The heat of the fire caused the hair on her head to begin to smolder and her eyebrows to sizzle, the resulting smell twisting her stomach further. The paladin turned around and pointed at her.

"Come on, come on! You need to move faster!" urged the paladin. She quickly jumped to her feet and ran, careful not to trip over the wire once again but almost hitting it anyway. The pair passed several groups of fleeing men-at-arms and quite a few more groups of those less lucky. They had been trampled or killed outright in the rush to escape. A few were obviously even worse off for luck, for a new sound joined the cacophony: The agonized screams of those caught by the fire. The heat, already unnaturally hot, must have been vastly exacerbated by their armor. She couldn't imagine what the paladin was going through right now. The thought forced bile into the back of her throat and she bent over, vomiting everywhere.

A few minutes later, the edge of the camp became visible. The surviving men-at-arms appeared to be fleeing into the countryside. They would likely form bandit groups, but there was nothing to do for it. The only thing separating the pair from the road into the city was a field of waist-high grass, which they began to cross. The grass left damp stripes across her leggings and a sheen of bright liquid coalesced upon the lower portion of the paladin's armor. They reached the road and looked back at the camp, which had mostly burnt to a cinder by this time. The smell of burnt canvas, flesh, and a plethora of other items reached them across the field, causing an itch to simmer in her nose. The demon circled above the camp, rising and falling on updrafts, wings fully outspread.

"We should probably rest until morning behind the tree line. No fire," admonished the paladin, as if she were an idiot. They walked off the road on the other side and headed into the trees. They said nothing, beyond light pleasantries, as they set up a small campsite. ¬

"Thank you for saving me," Senliari said when she realized she had not properly thanked the paladin.

"Think nothing of it, I doubt you would do otherwise for another creature in my place," replied the paladin, "If you don't mind, Curiosity is a cruel and heartless bitch. What is in the purse?"

"Gold, lots of it, from the demon's tent," Senliari replied, "I can use it to restart my life."

"That is theft!" replied the paladin, his voice rising with anger, "You shouldn't have taken it."

"I need something; all I have without this gold is a burnt tunic and leggings," answered Senliari. This was true; the grey tunic and leggings she had woken up with this morning in the demon's tent were slightly burnt and full of holes from the fire. "Besides," she continued, "I deserve 'something' from this ordeal."

"Keep your gold," said the paladin, heavily, "but we part ways in the morning." The paladin turned and walked towards the road. He let out a piercing whistle and was answered by the short neighing of a now approaching warhorse. When the horse grew near, he opened the saddlebag that it bore and pulled out two blankets. He walked back and threw one to her. "Get a few hours of sleep."

The day dawned cold and bright as the paladin and Senliari rose to begin the day. A few hours of meditation had restored her to a wakeful state and she was ready to get to the city where she could hire a mage to fix her memory. She returned the blanket to the paladin and began to walk towards the road. She stopped and turned around as a sudden realization dawned on her.

"May I ask you for a pair of shoes?" She asked.

"I wish I could, but the only shoes I have are these boots that I am wearing now, which I rather need and I doubt would fit you," the paladin replied, "I wish I could though. Farewell, may you make it to the city safely." He walked over to her and lifted his hand to put it on her shoulder.  A feeling of warmth diffused through her, permeating every cell of her being. He removed his hand and the feeling of warmth faded away. She was sorry to feel it go. He looked into her eyes, nodded, and left.

She walked to the road, clutching the purse, her future, in her hands. The clicking of hooves announced the departure of the paladin. Neither one looked back. She walked down the road, feeling every crack in the cobblestone underfoot. She eventually reached the top of a hill and beheld a large city a few miles further down the road…

The paladin rode down the road, fuming and staring into the sky. He had thought to take the lass and train her; she could be such a great asset to Heironeous. She had survived torture under that beast and had placed a great throw into the thing's eye. It would be just his luck that the damned elf would turn out to be a thief. It didn't matter though, the blessing he had bestowed upon her would keep her safe on her way into the city where she would be by the time the blessing expired by nightfall.

A sharp snapping sound behind him caused him to turn quickly and move his hand to the pommel of his greatsword; he wished he hadn't thrown his hammer, he rather liked it and it had carried him through quite a few battles. Nell, his mount, stopped moving as he did so. Nothing was there, merely the plume of dust raised by Nell. He turned to face the front once again. Nell's head was on the ground, staining it with a steaming puddle of blood. The demon raised its hand towards his chest and thrust it into his body, pulling his skeleton from his skin with a sharp yank. His eyes, whirling in their now unguarded sockets, continued to transmit data to his brain. He watched the demon quickly devour his body and that of Nell, flinging scraps of flesh everywhere. When this grisly feast was finished, the demon turned its head to his skeleton. "Farewell," it hissed with a chuckle as it crushed his skull…

A great influx of people awaited her at the city gates, a few looked fearfully back at the still rising cloud of smoke, but most seemed to be typical visitors to the city: a farmer delivering some vegetables in the back of a wagon, a few travelers, and a group of returning warders marching in step with one another.

The guards looked her ratty clothes over once, giving her a sneer, before letting her pass through the gates; she obviously posed no threat to the people housed within. The smell of the city hit her first. Unwashed bodies and muddy refuse mingles with the sweet scent of baking bread. She followed the scent deeper into the city, passing through several quarters. Now would be a good time to find some supplies…

…Later that evening she entered the Prancing Pony, an inn near the center of the city. A pair of Halflings drunkenly danced on one of the tables, singing a song about a green dragon. She walked up to the innkeeper, who eyed her new purchases with a cautious eye; she had spent quite a pretty penny all the things she would need in the coming months. If she cared to blow her own horn, she thought she had made out rather well. She still had enough money left over to commission a few mages to fix her memory and enough to pay for a room for the night.

"Senliari?" asked the innkeeper.

"Yes?" she replied, suddenly cautious. How did the innkeeper know her name?

"This came for you an hour ago," said the innkeeper as she handed over a letter. Senliari opened the letter and pulled out a note written on a weird, but familiar feeling surface.

I will find you… I will kill you…

She dropped the note, and it caught fire as it fell; she jumped back to avoid it hitting her feet and burning her. The air filled with the stench of burning flesh and as the note hit the floor it turned into a severed hand. The only identifying feature of the hand was a ring. The paladin had worn a ring quite similar. The hand dissolved into a pile of fingernails, which dissolved into a pile of ash. The inn was utterly silent; every single eye in the room was locked on her.

A single tear threatened to fall from her eye; nowhere would be safe, she would have to run. She threw a coin down on the bar and fled into the hallway. The third door on the right was unlocked and she entered. A bed sat made and a table waited at the far end of the room. A basin and a mirror sat on the table. A window at the rear of the room let a small amount of light into the room, mostly blocked by the building across the alley.

She walked to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Her eyebrows were missing and she still looked a little singed and smudged around the edges. The peeling and the hair growing back in would itch for weeks. A few areas on her arms seemed slightly blackened and they already itched. Her reflection was quite noticeable and way too easy to memorize. She would need to completely change, become the opposite of who she was.

She drew her knife and swiftly cut her hair down to a shortened length. She walked about the room, changing things about herself here and there until she had made a circuit of the room. The face of a male elf stared back out at her from the mirror. It would do.

"Call me… Sen…" the reflection muttered. He would have to leave here; staying would be to invite something unfortunate to occur. He peered out the window; nobody waited in the alley. He propped the window open, and edged himself out. He moved three steps down the alley and the room exploded behind him.

He took off. The sound of shouting followed him out of the alley and the stunned stares of the crowds greeted him as he jettisoned from between the two buildings. The crowd grudgingly budged to let him pass as he barreled into it. The demon had tracked him into the city.

A flood of city guards rushed towards the inn and probably what would be their deaths. One of the guards looked to be a human no older than thirteen; a lock of blond hair grew out from under the open face of his helmet, separating a pair of bright violet eyes. Why was he in the guard? He wondered what would happen to him. Their eyes met and Senliari looked away.

A long, spindly-limbed creature opened a door a few feet away.

"Hey, you, Senliari… Come quickly!" it beckoned to her. The creature backed into the doorway, out of sight. He walked over to the building and entered. The door shut behind her.

"Hello?" he called out, "Is anybody there?"

"Hello Senliari…" said a wizened voice from a back room. "Come and join us." He walked towards the voice; it did not seem to be a voice filled with malice and something told him he could trust the voice. The back room was well lit and two very old men sat in red, high-backed chairs facing each other in the middle of the room. They were smoking pipes and blowing oddly shaped smoke in a contest to see who could make the better shape.

"You seek to have your memory restored," stated the man on the left. He wore voluminous purple robes. An open book sat on his lap and a picture of what looked to be a brain filled the page. Odd scribbling covered the page. "We believe we can make the attempt. STRINGBEN!" he called, "Go fetch Raldo." He got up and put the book on the bookshelf and began to search for another, running his fingers along the leathery spine of each book.

"How do you know this?" asked Senliari, unable to keep a note of suspicion out of his voice.

"I know everything," he replied, "I wouldn't keep backing up, if you do, Raldo will hit you with the door on his way in." As if on cue, the door slammed open and an armored dwarf walked in, a tankard of mead in hand and his breath causing those in the room to feel a pleasant buzz while his smell negated the effect.

"Whatchya, hic, want Derani?" slurred Raldo, "I was just, hic, about to begin me supper." His beard was covered in the grease of some kind of meat and old stains covered the lower portion of it.

"Oh, I thought you were out picking daisies Raldo!" cheerfully replied Derani, still looking for the book.

"Your brains are wasted among you two," drawled the other man, who had until this time chosen to remain quiet. "This durned elf probably thinks you are both damned fools with your silly games and parlor tricks." The dwarf blanched at him, rolled up his sleeves, and fainted. The tankard of mead shattered against the hardwood floor and mead sloshed everywhere.

"Ahh, but is it truly a parlor trick if years of study went into the formation of it?" retorted Derani, ignoring the collapsed dwarf. "Most of your spells seem to be mere fancies, Pilom, requiring no study at all."

"Bah, you and your dry books," sighed Pilom, "Alas, we digress. Senliari, come here." He beckoned him over. Senliari took a few tentative steps towards him, resulting in a dirty look from Pilom and a frenzied waving motion. He moved a few steps away from him. Pilom sighed and got up. He put his hand on Senliari's head and closed his eyes. A few minutes elapsed before he reopened his eyes.

"I am sorry lass… erm, lad," He said, the other two looked at him quizzically. "The wall against your memory is huge, far stronger than our not meager powers. A god or a goddess did this."

"So, I guess you will be on your way then," said Derani, nonchalantly. "We will be no help for you. We don't need payment, though it seems you couldn't pay anyway; you left your bag of gold in your room." Shit… He had left it. It didn't matter though; one simply didn't need money in the wilderness. Without a word, he turned around and walked out.

He walked to the city gate and joined the throng of people milling about to leave before the gates closed. His appearance caused a few interested looks, and a few gold pieces changed hands among the guards that had been there earlier. Senliari shot them a dirty look and walked out into the wilderness once again.

As Senliari trudged down the path, the sun to his front, he spotted the forest in which he had spent the previous night. A light noise caused him to turn around just in time to see a large wolf like creature spring and jump onto his shoulders. They looked into each other's eyes and Senliari felt a binding snap. Raven… That was the magnificent animal's name. Raven licked his face and sat down. It felt like they knew each other.

Senliari set off once more; Raven bouncing back and forth across the path. The pair stepped into the forest. The atmosphere felt different, slightly less oppressing than it had been the night before. The lack of a demon circling above their heads probably helped with this.

The sound of screams filled the air from a small distance away. Raven's ears pricked and his hackles rose. The hunting cry of a group of wyverns rent the air. Raven took off towards the sound. Senliari gave the wolf a count of ten, and sprang off through the trees in the same direction, silently leaping from branch to branch, not even startling the squirrel he landed next to.

The edge of a clearing came into view.  A flock of wyverns crowded around two figures; a halfling and an elf. The elf looked somewhat sickened and the halfling narrowly dodged a series of attacks from a wyvern before narrowly dodging its companion's attacks. She fled across the field into the safety of the forest. The elf fled as well, but veered to the side as a second pair of wyverns sprang upon him. He stopped for a moment and a stream of lightening split the field killing three of the wyverns; one of which exploded into a rain of ash and guts which sprinkled over the field to the sound of a surreal rustling noise.

Senliari raised his longbow and took aim at the wyvern next to the elf. It was moving too much to get a good shot. Before he could manage a shot though, the beast jabbed its sting into the chest of the elf, who sank to his knees¸ a stream of blood already flowing from his mouth. The elf fell forward, dead.

Cries of shock rippled from the forest near the elf as what must have been his party registered his death. A gnome on a black stone cat flashed onto the field and grabbed the body, dragging it back into the trees. The party quickly fled deeper into the woods, crashing through the underbrush and startling several small animals. He silently moved to finish off the wyverns.

He balanced on a branch at the end of the field. The branch didn't dip or bend under his weight. Raven waited at the bottom of a tree, unable to do anything other than bark at the beasts. His first arrow flew from his bow, boring through the skull of one of the remaining wyverns. The beast made no sound as it barreled towards the earth though the other remaining wyvern looked up at the sound of the body hitting the ground. He took a breath, drew another arrow, and sighted down the length of the ash shaft. In a fluid movement, he released the arrow; the last wyvern was dead, it just didn't know it yet. The arrow exploded into the throat of the wyvern, causing it to veer into the ground. Unable to draw breath, it drowned as blood filled its lungs. Raven flew off after it, wanting to take a few bites out of it, perhaps just to feel involved in the kill.

As he clambered down from the tree, he wondered what would become of the party he has just watched flee into the forest, back the way he had come from. Their tracks were still fresh, and rather obvious. He shouldered his bow and whistled for Raven to return to his side. The wolf did so with a yip of glee and rubbed against his side. In response, Senliari scratched the wolf on the top of the head.

The tracks lead to a small clearing with a spring on one side and a trio of evergreen trees in the middle. They had dug a rather nice pit and lowered the body into it; after which, they stood there staring at the grave for a few minutes. Senliari crept to a few feet behind them, folded his arms, and waited to be noticed…