Dayel 04 07 06

“I’m getting sick of this, I reckon I could do ok running my own adventure!” said the martial artist grumpily. “What do you mean? This is my party!” cried Mal the Magic-user incredulously. “You lot are going to make me rich!”

“You know what, I reckon she is onto something,” said the Ranger, and the others started looking thoughtful. “Yeah, I mean, it isn’t like we won’t run into each other oot and aboot, eh?” said the Illusionist. “Maybe we should all give it a try”

“Well, I can certainly look after myself” said the elvish cutpurse, a defiant look in her eyes. “Man, I’m getting low on gear anyway” replied the Ranger, at which both he and the dwarf looked concerned. “Don’t come crying to me!” said the dwarf, looking defensive. “It’s not like I have enough Moldavian Marching Powder to go around. You planks will have to get your own – unless you want some Mal?”

As Dayel watched incredulously, the party said brief farewells and set off separately. He was very curious as to what each of them would get up to, but he wondered who to follow. Mal stood in the centre of the chamber, his arms folded defiantly. As he considered this, Dayel realised that if he simply went about his previous adventuring, he would doubtless come across most of them in the labyrinth of tunnels. With a bemused smile, he hoisted his pack and adjusted his swort. “Go easy, I’m still here you schmuck” came an indignant voice in his head. At least he knew he would not want for company.