by Randy Nargi
* * *
TARTHAS JORR UNLOCKED THE STURDY IRON DOOR TO THE LOWER DUNGEON CELL BLOCK. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find. But there, in the corridor, stood Bander and Dusk and her gang, talking and laughing as if they were lifelong friends. As he moved closer, Tarthas Jorr did however notice a quantity of blood on the floor.
Bander greeted Tarthas Jorr. “I commend you on your ingenuity, my friend.” He appeared to be uninjured.
“How do you mean?”
“These are just the type of miscreants that I need.”
“I’m glad I could accommodate you,” replied Tarthas Jorr with a sardonic smile.
“It is truly an honor to be working with Captain Bander,” Dusk chimed in.
“Aye,” seconded Faramir Boldfist, who sported a sizeable contusion on his face.
“However, our small party is sadly lacking,” said Wegg, the healer. “We need a mage.” His face was also bruised, but the bruise was the greenish color that indicated that the injury had recently been healed.
“Sadly, our dungeons are fresh out of mages,” said Tarthas Jorr. He turned to Bander. “And given your current trouble with the Guild, I don’t think you'd be able to hire one.”
“I wasn't planning on hiring one.” Bander said. “I was planning on kidnapping one.”
