[h3][color=bedded][b][center] Thomas Richard Harrison [/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] The Crossed Swords Tavern/Bar.
[color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color] Ntaj, Magnus, Nor? [/indent][/center]

Well despite consuming what may be half-a-meteric-ton of food, Ntaj was all the wiser for it. Having listened to Thomas' spiel as he concerned himself in manners he probably should have buried. But the burden of guilt was something even Atlas would buckle under. Hence his long-winded words rambling on and on. But the half-orc was right, Mages are supposed to be smart, clever folk who had their noses buried in texts so deep that, well nevermind. That being said Thomas hadn't one of those books on hand, and perhaps the safety of a good book would shield him from the wrath of Kyra, Sana and Keystone. Maybe he could dabble back into his spellbook and work on his spellcraft, maybe learn how to refine his spells to avoid striking down allies in the fray.

[color=bedded]"I guess, thanks Ntaj."[/color] Thomas sheepishly replied, the winds taken from his sails. [color=bedded]"Thomas, Cosmic Sorcerer. Uh, I'm what they say to be a natural-born spellcaster, my blood's got some magical essence, particularly one attuned to the celestial spheres. So in theory, all that you see in the sky beyond us, those are my relatives, or something like that. It's far less simple than hitting things with a sword, and I'm not sure anyone understands how exactly it works."[/color] Thomas's introduction and a nod towards Magnus and the Dwarf who had comically tried to climb a mountain, figuratively, as dwarves were usually at home on a mountain, or rather in a mountain? Under a mountain? Tales of how great Dwarven empires created the impossible, the roots of the mountain. And they too had more impossible things like the beard of a woman. Good crafters and skilled artisans, scholars perhaps if not drunken on mead, ale or other frothy pints.

And speaking of cold ones, Thomas picked up the cup he had ordered and began to drink.

[color=bedded]"Yep, so there's undead about, some caster I'm sure. I don't dabble in necromancy, but in theory you can deconstruct a spell. The zombies we faced were like puppets, and like puppets on strings they acted without an instinct of self-preservation. And hearing their puppeteer taunt us, I'd say there's a definite range to the attacks. Maybe some interference, I don't know a ritual to protect the town, but if someone's got a copy of the instructions I'm pretty sure I can cast it with some help. Then again, he's got some powerful allies with that Crimson Death he had. So I'm nearly certain we are dealing with a pretty powerful necromancer who's either had years of practice to effortlessly detonate his minions and toy with us, or someone very naughty with a very powerful dark artifact who is experimenting."[/color]

Another sip, as a break from his projections ruminated to anyone in earshot. Hopefully the others would have more news, and Sana would be okay.