Sisanae's Note:

Well. This took an awfully long time, didn't it? I really do apologise ) The ending will not take as long, I swear!

Extra thanks to Llrael and MorningGloryDruid for being my editors, and to all the wonderful people who offered. :)

This one's for the Shirtless Guys and Gals - lovely people, all of you! )

So enjoy, at last, Chapter 3 of Deja Vu :)

Edited a little for small pointers. Any others would be appreciated, as would reviews:)

The author would like to point out that they in no way condone the cruel ravaging of vegetables. Ravaging rangers, on the other hand, is entirely supported, especially seeing as the poor thing spends one of the following scenes emotionally banging their head against a tree. He did try physically, but unfortunately did not take well to certain… Squirrel Problems.

A few hours of several unimaginative portals later...

"Bag of flammable troll hair?!"

"…Check."

"Imaginative and humorous top-hat?!"

"Shut up, you stupid little gno-OW!"

"Casavir!"

"Sorry, Captain."

"Oh no, I didn't mean about that – I was going to ask if we have the hat."

"Oh…yes. Hat. Check."

"He hit me!"

"No-one likes a tell-tale, Bishop. Shush."

"Potion of Stupidity?"

"Yes. At great personal risk, I might add."

"Saaaaaaand! What do you saaaaaay?!"

The wizard sighed, "And why should I do that, oh gnome of the non-existent brain?"

"That's not fair! Sand gets to insult people, but whenever I-"

-SMACK-

"I fear you may have hit him a little too hard, Casavir."

"I have been too good to him, my lady."

Kiadra paused. "That's certainly a unique viewpoint. Anyway, carry on, Grobby!"

"Oh. Um. Yes! Potion of Stupidity?!"

"…Dear gods…Check."

"Okay! Put it on the pile, then! Silly Sand! Oooh, allet-…allit-…wheeee!"

"Yes ,yes, here it is you – hmm. That's odd. It was certainly here a moment ago…" Sand got up from his seat by the door, and began searching under the various magical artefacts that littered his desk. The companions had decided to use his room as what the Gnome called the "Secret Base", because it was "unlikely the opposing team would risk certain death; either by book avalanches or discovering the contents of Sand's sock drawers". Neeshka and Khelgar were outside on lookout (which really meant shouting at anyone who came within five hundred meters of the room, or whenever this wasn't an option, at each other), and Qara was sat in the corner, muttering to herself. When she saw the wizard move, however, the sorceress stood up at a speed Kiadra thought impossible, grinning insanely.

"Looking for something, Sandikins?" she cooed, waving an empty potion bottle in his direction.

"Oh dear." Kiadra sighed dramatically, reaching into her pack to produce a large, leather bound book. Calmly, the drow turned to a seemingly random page, and started to read, whilst Grobnar began to hum merrily.

When summoning demons, it is vitally important that you make sure the circle is fire-proof…

"You idiot girl! What, dare I ask, have you done with the potion I spent hours slaving over?!"

..Many who have tried without said protection have found themselves accidentally swept off the floor by their assistants the following day…

Qara giggled, "Liar! You bought it off the merchant outside!"

Kiadra looked up from her book, paused, and then looked, wide-eyed at Sand.

"You bought it from Deekin?!"

Now it was Sand's turn to smile evilly.

"I bought a potion from that illiterate kobold, yes." he drawled, reaching into the folds of his robe and producing a rather empty potion bottle. The words "Poition of Stopedity" were scrawled across its grubby and torn label.

Kiadra looked at Sand, at the bottle he was holding, and then at Qara, and the bottle she was holding. Realization dawned as she leant back in her chair, a look of intense dread on her face.

"Oh noo…"

Qara giggled childishly.

  

"Okay, look, let's go over it again. This is Bishop, okay? B-I-S-H-O-P! Not, and I say this with the deepest regret, a lavatory." Kiadra sighed wistfully, and hit the gagged and bound ranger briefly on the head. "Got that?! Now repeat after me, 'From this day forward…'"

"From this day forward…" Qara and Sand chorused, from their seats behind the wizard's desk.

"I will not use him…"

"I will not use him…heehee, that sounds naughty-OW!"

"Sand! Don't hit Qara!"

"But…but…she was rude, Kiaaadra!"

"That may be so, but we keep our hands, arms, and other protruding limbs to ourselves, Sand."

"Hah-hah! Sand got told ooofff!"

"Yes, well…at least I don't have…rounded ears!"

"By Lliira…I can't take this any longer. CASAVIR!"

"My lady?"The paladin stuck his head round the door of Sand's bedroom, ducking quickly to avoid being hit by a large rubber duck.

Kiadra strode up to him, grabbing the collar of his training tunic and gave him a pleading look. "Help…Me!"

Casavir sighed, and strolled into the middle of the room, a rather hefty looking book tucked under his right arm. The drow, spotting a chance of escape, ran out of the door, pulling it just far enough behind her so that she could still see what was going on, whilst being safe from any flying barnyard animals. She had always known Qara to be practically skipping along the thin line of sanity, but to see Sand in such a state distressed Kiadra very much. He had been the only member of her party whom she could have a sensible, un-Old Owl Well related conversation with.

She relaxed onto the chair Casavir had previously been sitting on, and reached into her pack to pull out another large leather book, which she laid across her knees and turned to Chapter Three: "Spring-mounted Armour Shields for Orc-Brains"

Ah well. If you can't beat them, join them.

Sand and Qara went silent as the paladin took his place in front of them. He coughed curtly, causing fear to cross both of their faces, and the sorceress in particular to try to cover her ears with the ends of her robe. A few strained seconds passed before she lost her balance, and fell backwards off her chair.

"OWWW!"

Casavir sighed again.

She doesn't pay me enough for this.

"Qara fell off! Qara fell off!" Sand sang, rocking from side to side on his chair gleefully.

Wait…she doesn't pay me at all. Curses.

The paladin raised his eyes heavenward, and, with great care and precision, slammed his book hard on the table.

When Kiadra's ears had stopped ringing, the drow noticed with intense glee that the two were now deathly silent, eyes glued upon Casavir, who glared fiercely at them both. Qara had somehow regained verticality, and seemed to now be fighting the urge to start playing drums on Sand's head. Her hands kept moving towards the wizard, before Casavir would cough meaningfully, causing them to fly miraculously back into her lap. This continued for several minutes, before Casavir slammed his book down again.

"Now listen to me, and listen well." The paladin leaned closer to the now terrified two, and lowered his voice to a whisper, "I'm going to do to you what the priests of Tyr used to do to me when I had been bad."

Sand looked up at Casavir, wide eyed, his voice merely a hush.

"What did you dooo?!

Casavir locked eyes with the wizard, and moved forward until his face was level with the elf's. He started to whisper quickly, and despite however much Kiadra craned (even risking possible concussion by poking her head around the sanctity of the door frame) she couldn't make out what the paladin was saying. She could only watch, as the moon elf's face contorted into disgust and turn a particularly interesting shade of green, as Qara began to squeal in terror. Casavir leaned back, a new found glint in his blue eyes as he coughed one again, causing the twosome to sit back to rigid attention, gulping in perfect unison.

"Now, do I have your complete attention?"

Elf and girl heads nodded hastily.

"Right. You two are going to sit here, in absolute silence, until either Kiadra or I come to check on how you are doing." Casavir strode across the room to the door, causing Kiadra to quickly bury herself in the book. "Do you have any questions?"

Sand raised a hand timidly, "Is...that our punishment?"

The paladin raised one eyebrow. "Oh no. That comes later." he shut the door calmly behind him.

Kiadra looked up at the paladin.

"You're never going to tell me, are you?"

Casavir smiled his little half smile.

"Never, my lady." he offered his hand to help her stand up, and the two began to walk down the corridor together. "May I ask you one question, however?"

"But of course."

"Is it difficult to read, when your book is upside down?"

  

"Jump for the muffin, Ammon, jump!"

"May the hells take you!" the warlock boomed, or at least, tried to. Due to his current predicament, however, it came out as more of an irritated squeak.

"Awww, ish ickle Ammon gwumpy?"

"…I despise you!"

"Harrumph. Ye can join the club."

"Aww, but he's so cute when he's angry! Look, his little arms move up and down and –"

A miniscule black orb, barely larger than a pin head, flew at the smirking Neeshka's forehead, where it exploded, showering her nose in little black sparks. She giggled.

"Hahaha, that tickled !"

"Why you-!"

"Don't tease Jerro, Neeshka." Kiadra stepped into the Library, holding the door open for Casavir who was barely visible under the large pile of spell books he was carrying. He nimbly dodged Bishop's outstretched foot, pausing briefly to accidentally drop one of the books on the ranger's head, before continuing to deposit the rest on one of the Library's many large wooden desks. He nodded to Aldanon, who was steadily reading his way through the growing pile. The sage gibbered quietly.

"I do not need you to defend me, girl!" Ammon scowled at the drow, crossing his arms indignantly. It was quite hard for a six inch man to look dominantly terrifying, but Ammon Jerro managed it.

"Don't worry, Jerro, they say size doesn't matter." sneered Bishop, throwing the book back at the paladin who was busy reading. Casavir, in one flawless movement, caught it in midair and threw it casually over his shoulder onto the rest of the pile, eyes never leaving the page in front of him. Bastard, Bishop thought.

"You would know, ranger." Neeshka nudged Khelgar, who erupted into laughter.

"Eh-heh-heh. Funny." Bishop replied, oozing his own sophisticated form of sarcasm. "Look, this is getting us nowhere. Just leave the stupid warlock, and let's go finish this damn Skalager Hunt or whatever the hell it is so I can go KILL something!"

Everyone, including Casavir and Aldanon, who had appeared to have returned to the realm of sanity at least temporarily, turned to look at Bishop. In the silence that followed, Casavir walked over to the Captain, picked her up around the waist, and gently moved her several further feet away from the ranger. He bowed to her.

"Apologies, my lady, but I fear that his stupidity may be contagious."

"A-HAH!" There was a cry of triumph from the sage, as he leapt up, knocking over his desk. Bishop irritably closed his mouth, which had been forming one of his usual sardonic comebacks, and yawned sarcastically. No-one noticed.

"You've found something?" Kiadra bent over Aldanon's shoulder, as the tiny warlock fired another black orb at Neeshka, who was still giggling madly.

"Yes!" the sage grinned manically, "In order to reverse the young mage's shrinking spell, other than to just wait for it to wear off –"

"Not bloody likely," Ammon scowled, deeply regreting ever leaving his room earlier that day - being greeted by an "even more sense-deprived than usual" cackling Qara armed with a height reducing spell was not his ideal start.

"- Is to do a rather…complicated looking ritual, as described in these pages." Aldanon jabbed a finger dramatically at the open page on front of him. Kiadra squinted, trying to make out the bizarre diagrams and peculiar letterings scrawled across the page. She looked at the still beaming sage doubtfully.

"Are you sure about th-"

The door of the Library banged dramatically open, causing the hinges to fly off, rebound off the top of Khelgar's head, and land with a giant splosh into the sage's water goblet.

"I do wish people would stop doing that," Aldanon sighed wistfully.

"KI-AAAH-DRAAAH!" a missile flew into the room, skimming over the heads of Bishop, Neeshka and Khelgar (flying far, far over the head of the still scowling Ammon Jerro) and landing in a flurry of parchment beside Casavir, who eyed it suspiciously.

"Hullo, Grobnar."

The gnome sprang upright in another whirlwind of paper, some of which flew far above, only to lazily drift back down onto the paladin's head. He moved his eyes upward to get a better look at the offending page, before blowing on it half-heartedly. Kiadra stood on her tip-toes and gently removed it, causing Bishop to snort excessively. They chose to ignore this, and the choking noises that followed as Khelgar punched the ranger in the gut.

"I have found it! The last item we need!" Grobnar bounced up and down happily.

Kiadra looked at the little bard, and considered this. She spent a few moments carefully formulating her next sentence.

"You actually have, quite definitely, in your possession, the precise item which we need in order to win the competition we are having, right now, with Riverguard Keep?"

Grobnar paused his celebration, and seemed to think about this.

"Well…not as such."

The entire room erupted into a series of groans, sighs and eye-rolls.

"However I do have directions to its…location!" The gnome beamed again. A cheer went up from the party. Kiadra however, who had been close enough to notice the smaller bard's hesitation, knelt down until her eyes were level with Grobnar's.

"Its precise location?" she asked sweetly.

The gnome looked doubtfully at the slip of parchment he was holding. "Sort…of."

Bishop practically jumped out of the chair he had be lounging on.

"That's good enough for me! C'mon, half-pint, let's go get this thing!" The ranger, eager to get out of research duty, grabbed his new companion, threw him roughly over one shoulder, and bounded dramatically out of the Library door.

Kiadra counted silently in her head.

1...2...3...4...5…

The door flew open again, and a stony-faced Bishop re-entered, crossed the floor, snatched a slip of paper out of the un-resisting Captain's hand and walked back out again. The door slammed shut behind him, and Neeshka burst out laughing.

1…2…3…

"I heard that, goat-girl!" there was the sound of stamping feet.

"They're not going to get far."

"Why?" Kiadra looked at the tiefling, who smirked.

"Because I just pick-pocketed Bishop's only map."

There was a cry of out rage from down the corridor.

  

And so, the brave and newly reformed Team Gnomehands set out once more on their valiant quest through the forests of a strange and distance world, led by their dedicated, and glorious leader Grobnar the Bard, whom graciously accepted the company of -

"For god's sake, Gnome, if you don't shut up soon you're gonna get an arrow through the forehead!"

Grobnar looked slightly offended, before shrugging and puffing out his chest again, resuming the loud booming voice he used for all adventurous narration.

- the disgruntled, and extremely rude Sir Bishop of Grumpyville and -

The ranger cocked an arrow threateningly at the gnome, who let out a high-pitched squeak before hiding behind their other companion…

"Ha-ha, grumpy! Man, that's good!"

-the sympathetic and skilled Lady Neeshka of Neverwinter, friend to all creatures below four feet –

"Sympathetic, my arse." Bishop snorted, "And skilled? That demon wench isn't fit to scrub my bo-!"

There was a shlink of blades being drawn, and the ranger found himself pinned against a nearby tree with Neeshka gently pressing a dagger flat against his throat, her eyes shining brightly.

"You were saying?" she asked pleasantly. Bishop glared at her. She matched it. There was a moment of absolute stillness as the two stood locked in a silent battle of gazes. Grobnar shifted uneasily, and began to hum a little tune.

Progression, alteration, change – all inaccurate words to describe the movement of the scene in front of the bard. The gnome tried tapping, drumming and even singing, but his two companions still remained unmoved. Having the attention span of a teaspoon, Grobnar looked at the map he, as determined and sophisticated leader, had been entrusted with. Miles of forest, miles of bogs, miles of mountains. All to find an artefact even the optimistic and ever so trusting Grobnar slightly doubted existed. It didn't seem right, he theorised, that such a high-profile magical power source (Grobnar wasn't entirely sure what a 'high-profile magical power source' actually was, but it sounded jolly impressive, anyway.) would have such a long, silly, and totally un-rhyme able name as it did. Clearly its inventor didn't think enough about the poor bard's who would have to write about these types of things. Grobnar let out a little sigh and rolled the name round his tongue, hoping that inspiration may take it upon itself to strike, or maybe that normal rhyming rules had decided to take a spontaneous holiday.

Really, whoever had decided to make a 'Codpiece of Ultimate Power' was very foolish, indeed.

  

The Library of Crossroad Keep hummed with the essence of magic. Daeghun Farlong watched from his spot beneath a large oak tree, a safe distance away from its glowing windows. He had arrived only a little while ago from his travels around the Mere, and a short enquiry of a local farmer on what exactly it was his foster daughter was doing in there had revealed "something myffic, not doubt. She's a smart lass but if you value your head, good sir, then stay away when that one's a-casting. Last week she nearly blew the entire Keep to pieces she did - if it weren't for that clever elf fellow, you know, the one in the dress, we'd be nothing yet a pile of ash, my lad Truman said…" and so on. Whilst Daeghun had complete faith in his daughter and her handle on the world of the 'myffic', and indeed, would challenge anyone who would say that she had none, he had decided to 'watch from afar', as it were. He still shuddered at the memory of the time he had tried to teach Kiadra to light the candles in her room by spell alone – the elf had seen many terrible things in his time, but the memory of horrific and malformed…creature that his daughter had accidentally summoned from the nether regions of the hells prevented him from getting sleep for many, many months.

"Alector! Lit-ali! Crulat!"

The Library windows flashed green, and the courtyard was sound like the humming of hundreds of bees.

"Steh-fen-doh! Nagaroth!"

There was a small explosion, breaking a pane of glass as something small yet rotund flew through it, closely followed by a shower of rainbow coloured sparks and the roaring of several small eruptions of flame. Khelgar sprang upright, cursing and limping as he crossed the courtyard back into the Keep, barely giving Daeghun a second glance. The elf watched the dwarf slam his way through the Keep's main doors, and then moved forward cautiously, curious as to why the stream of casting from the Library had momentarily ceased. From his new, less secure position behind a semi-built trebuchet (he would ask her what she was planning to do with that later…) Daeghun could just see through the thick smoke, someone's silhouette, shining brightly from the effects of its magic. The spell-caster was bent down, Daeghun presumed in order to get a closer look at the book they were casting from. One yellow-glowing hand reached up to their head, and briefly scratched it. The elf smiled, and walked calmly, yet swiftly, backwards.

"…Jellywelly?"

There was the sound of which Daeghun could only describe as a backwards sneeze, succeeded by a huge explosion of blue that caused the elven ranger's ears to ring as the other surviving windows of the Library were smashed, either by the force of the blast or by the ensuing hurricane of furniture and books that were propelled at high speeds across the courtyard, one particular volume skimming smoothly past his head before burying itself deeply into the stone wall behind him. Trees were upended; doors were demolished by an onslaught of Githyanki Rhyming Dictionaries, and one unlucky Greycloak found himself swept off his feet and planted upside down on the top of the newly rebuilt Wizards Tower. As suddenly as it begun, the apocalyptic weather stopped, and Daeghun slowly and carefully stood up, narrowly avoiding being hit by the falling Greycloak. Other heads of Crossroad Keep's finest workers and bravest soldiers peeped over the top of their hiding places, all eyes fixed intently upon what remained of the Library's wall.

A voice filtered down from inside.

"I think your pronunciation could do with a little work, my lady."

Daegun nodded, more to himself than anyone else. He had made another silent decision.

He would go talk with his daughter sometime…later.

  

"Ooooh, good morning to thee darling sparrow. Good morning to thee mighty tree!"

"Shut. Up."

"It's no use, ranger. He's been at it for hours."

"Good morning to thee pretty sunrise, good morning to thee lowly bee!"

Bishop scowled and rolled over, wrapping his tattered blanket around him. He was not a happy ranger. He had been having a very enjoyable dream about removing a certain paladin's knighthood and he was very displeased to have been woken. He shifted again and frowned defiantly at the sky, which was notable because there was a distinct absence of a sun. Or any light, for that matter. It was in fact, the middle of the night. Bishop groaned as the gnome picked up his song again, and desperately tried to clamp his vambraces across his ears.

"Good morning to thee sleepy tiefling, good morning to thee lovely sea!" Grobnar skipped around the clearing they had set up camp in, addressing the inhabitants of the forest with intense glee. He jumped happily over the rock that was thrown haphazardly at his shins, seemingly unbothered.

Bishop cursed loudly, and sat upright. "You stupid gnome, we are no way near any damn sea!"

"Not even a river, really." Neeshka murmured from her heap of blankets. The rogue was not a fan of mornings, either.

"Oh good morning, good morning, good morning to thee-ahh!"

There was a huge crash, and a series of pain-induced noises from the now-revealed bear-trap.

Bishop smirked smugly.

  

Kiadra was trying hard to remain very, very still. She opened her eyes a tiny fraction, and looked intently at the Library ceiling. The bard's eyes flickered briefly with disgust as she noticed the piece of jam-covered toast stuck directly above her. Wizards, she thought. He can damn well scrub it off himself this time-

There was the stamp of boots on cobbled floor. The drow tensed and quickly shut her eyes, realising instantaneously that that was a very foolish mistake. Kiadra felt the air move to her left, and the clink of plate mail suggested that the newcomer was kneeling down. She held her breath.

"My lady, you can't pretend to be dead forever."

The drow did not move. Her cheeks began to take on a slight reddish tint as she continued not to breathe.

Casavir chuckled and looked over his shoulder. Ammon was engrossed in caustiously scraping the green gunge from his clothes, cursing wildly, while Aldanon was pouring bucket after bucket of freezing water over Khelgar's head, ignoring the dwarf's yells as they tried desperately to put out the magical fire burning up his beard. All of these side-effects to his Captain's…interesting magical skills. He turned back to Kiadra, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

"You are only making this worse for yourself."

Still she did not move. Casavir let out a little sigh as her lips began to turn a peculiar shade of blue.

Well. If that's the way you want to play it.

He turned around, ducking to avoid being hit by an empty water bucket, and walked over to the still cursing Ammon Jerro. Kiadra cracked open an eye, watching as the paladin bent down and began to have a heated discussion with the miniature warlock. She strained her ears, but the paladin knew his Captain well enough to keep his voice at a very low whisper. Shifting slightly to get a better view (and still holding her breath), the bard suppressed a laugh as the warlock crossed his arms and began to shake his head vigorously. Casavir gave him a Look, and picked the very resisting warlock up until he was level with the paladin's un-amused face. The drow hastily slammed her eyes shut, and strained her ears even further as the whispering got faster. Once again, she heard the familiar clunk, clunk of the paladin's boots as she stopped by her, and a sudden soft thump as a light weight fell on her stomach. She carefully opened the eye furthest away from Casavir, and peered curiously at whatever he had dropped on her. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the figure of one very angry warlock, who glared furiously at her before…

-THUNK-

Kiadra cursed loudly as the breath was blasted from her body. She thumped the floor, as the force from Ammon's own demonic version of Bigby's Crushing Hand hit every nerve, sending shocks up and down her spine as she gasped for breath. The warlock slapped his hands together, stepping curtly off the drow's heaving form and onto the floor, making his way over to Khelgar, who was being comforted by the sage as he despaired over the new hole in his beard. Casavir gave him a little kick him as he walked past, sending the warlock skidding rather ungracefully across the floor. Ignoring Ammon's screeches, he knelt down and gave a short prayer to Tyr, raising his now glowing hands over Kiadra, who stopped gasping as the spell began to take effect.

There was an awkward pause.

"My lady…?"

Kiadra glared at him.

The toast fell unceremoniously onto her head.

  

Team Gnomehands walked in silence.

"And then, the lady said to me, a humongous mushroom fell out of the sky and crushed her betrothed…"

Well, for a given value of silence.

"But that was nothing compared to the legend of the Giant Marrow of Thay, which ravaged innocent vegetables …"

"…Which reminds me of that funny little limerick I heard whilst hanging upside down from a flagpole, which is also a humorous story as well…"

Bishop's eye continued to twitch. To say it was a mere twitch, however, is an understatement. It was more of an entire half face spasm, meaning that while one side looked normal (that is to say, extremely annoyed) the other was dancing the fandango of face twitches.

He scrabbled madly around his person for an arrow to shoot through a certain gnome's eye, realising with deep remorse that Neeshka had been very thorough with her confiscation of anything even remotely dangerous. Bishop half-considered bashing the bard repeatedly with his shoe, but decided that the resulting mess would cause far too much trouble than it was worth. Although the Captain was by no means a tracker, she had the advantage of a mule's stubbornness – and if she didn't catch him, then there was no denying that the paladin definitely would, and would not pause in removing from Bishop the very things that made his existence bearable…

Existing, for one.

There was a squeal from around the ranger's waist, which can be a bit off-putting when one is contemplating being furiously smote. Repeatedly.

"We're he-ee-re!" squeaked Grobnar, managing to stretch syllables far beyond their natural length as they entered another small clearing.

Neeshka rubbed her eyes, and yawned. "Already?"

The gnome bowed his head, a rare sombre expression on his face. Bishop snorted, leaning against a non-squirrel infested tree with his arms crossed, whereas the tiefling watched Grobnar with vague, tiredness-induced fascination. He seemed to be concentrating intently on a piece of ground just beside his boots.

"…Ye-es." the gnome's head suddenly snapped back up. "Yes...the colour…"

Bishop narrowed his eyes, "What?"

Grobnar held up a hand to silence him. The ranger narrowed his eyes further.

"I think…"

"Yes?" Bishop tapped his foot irritably.

"That…"

Neeshka, having already made a fair guess as to what was to come, made herself comfortable on a nearby boulder. The tiefling closed her eyes, trying to block out the inevitable…

"My boots are an awfully dull colour."

Bishop screamed and launched himself at Grobnar, who squealed and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him. Neeshka watched in amusement as the ranger chased the gnome round and round the small clearing, yelling abuse and waving his arms in a crazed manner that would've made Aldanon proud. They had only made a few laps before the tiefling got bored, and, whistling, she casually stuck out her leg. Grobnar, who was practically leaping in his haste to get away, skimmed gracefully over.

Bishop, however, was not so lucky.

"Oh, dear." Neeshka laughed cheerfully, giving the ranger's fallen body a good kick. He swore loudly, even when slightly muffled by the dirt, but made no move to get up. The tiefling turned her attention to Grobnar, who was hiding inside a berry bush that was less than half of his size.

"Grobby, we've been walking for days. How far is it now?" she kicked Bishop again for emphasis, causing the gnome to flinch and try to make himself even smaller.

When the ranger did not spring in his general direction, Grobnar stood up awkwardly. Very carefully, the gnome untangled himself from the bush and slowly, keeping as much distance from Bishop as possible, edged round the clearing until he was safely behind Neeshka. Keeping his eyes on the ranger's back, he motioned for her to lean in closer and whispering so quietly that it almost surpassed even the tiefling's acute hearing, said "We're here…"

Bishop stirred. It seemed that he had quite good hearing, after all. He slowly began to pick himself up.

Grobnar sighed, cried "Oh well.", and did a running jump back into his berry bush.

After a few false starts, involving mud, muddled bowstrings and an awful lot of cursing, Bishop stood up, and stuck one hand expectantly in front of Neeshka. The tiefling stared at it.

"Yes?"

The ranger made a few grabbing movements with his empty hand.

Neeshka furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"Map." he mumbled.

The tiefling pointed at the suspiciously still berry bush, out of which the top of Grobnar's hair was sticking out.

"We could be here for a very long time," Neeshka shifted her weight and pulled a bottle out of her pack, expertly flicking the cork out with a satisfying pop, "Care for some of Khelgar's Birthday ale?"

A little while later...

-HIC-

Neeshka tried to focus her somewhat hazy vision. As far as she could tell she had all the necessary limbs, but she had a strange gut feeling something was wrong - she was sure there weren't supposed to be twelve suns…

What in the hells does the dwarf put in this stuff…Absinthe?!"

She groaned, and rooted through her pack again, pulling out a rather smaller bottle. She fumbled with the cork, trying desperately to find the one top which actually existed. When she eventually popped it open, a light brown smoke slid lazily out, and there was the smell of exceedingly burnt leather. This didn't put the tiefling off however, as she quickly downed the entire contents, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and shuddering. Neeshka wondered why, when his [ale purgative was so abundant and sought-after, Sand still made it taste disgusting.

That elf has sick humour.

As her normal sense of reality began to return, the tiefling dived back into her pack again, searching for her other bottle, as her head was still thumping considerably.

"Bishop? Have you seen a bottle, about this big, smells like troll dung?" she looked up,"…Bishop?"

The rangerwas sat a few yards in front of a bush, bow placed nonchalantly at his side, as nonchalantly as a bow can be. Which, really, isn't very much. But at least he was trying. An empty bottle lay by his feet and he had a severely disgusted look on his face.

The source of the disgust became obvious as the berry bush in front of him spoke next.

"Say...pretty please."

The ranger screwed up his face, and his right eye began to twitch again as he took a deep breath.

"…Pretty please, oh great and," Bishop furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to recall what the gnome had listed beforehand,"…'Fantabulous' – I'm telling you that isn't a word – Grobnar, who is the most," he spat. "magnificent leader I have ever had, may I have the map?"

The bush contemplated this.

"…Yeees." a rock flew out of the bush, and hit Bishop squarely on the head.

Neeshka laughed, and the ranger, having only just noticed her presence, snapped his head around and tried to scowl at her. The effect was ruined by the twitch of his right eye, and the large purple bruise forming on the middle of his forehead.

"Whoops!" the bush cried.

Bishop gritted his teeth. "I'm going to strangle you both!"

"Aw, ish ickle Bishwop gwoing to stwangle Neeshka?" the tiefling cooed, waving her arms around in mock horror.

He ignored her, tearing the map from the [offensive rock and walking over to Grobnar's berry bush, which had begun squealing again as he approached. With a disturbing calmness, Bishop reached inside, pulling the gnome out by his hair as he squeaked, waving two small berry sprigs.

"Don't hurt me! It's not my fault! The Wendersnaven did it!" the gnome cried, as the ranger dropped him roughly onto the dirt floor in front of Neeshka.

Bishop, seeming having regained his usual snide attitude in the face of Neeshka's teasing, snorted. "Hah. You two, stay here. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone." He slung his bow over his back, drew his longsword and disappeared into the shadows. It would have been nice to say this occurred with a dramatic soundtrack, possibly involving cymbals and an interesting use of a xylophone, but Grobnar was too busy squashing berries onto his boots to notice the ranger's exit. Neeshka watched him from her rock expectantly. Any moment now…

The gnome, content that his boots were a satisfactorily morbid colour, looked up. "Neeshka. Bishop's gone."

"I had noticed that, Grobnar, yes."

"He said he'd be back when I noticed that."

The tiefling rolled her eyes. She liked Grobnar, but for someone who was supposed to be intelligent, he really was awfully dense. She decided to use the most common excuse.

"It's because he's an idiot."

The 'idiot' re-appeared a short while later walking across the clearing, waving a small leather bag warily, seemingly holding his longsword as far away as was humanly possible.

"I am never, ever, using this sword again." he threw it dramatically onto the floor.

"Oh no, Bishop, you didn't…did you?" Grobnar's eyes went wide.

The ranger look genuinely offended. "What do you take me for, some kind of sleaze?!"

Neeshka smiled, "…Yeees."