[h2][center]Thaliar[/center][/h2]

If the Trickster and the Raven were the one and same person that the stories spoke about, then Rook did have a solid point. The stories had to be older than he himself was, which was far older than a normal human taken into account that Thaliar was a relatively young elf. An powerful elf none the less, but still young. "That's true, so the stories might be based on a common legend. Unless he, or she was an elf..."

-"...or he could be cursed!"

Thaliar turned his head slowly towards their prisoner who suddenly decided to speak up, and with a most peculiar statement. Leaning forward, the elf's green eyes locked onto Edwin's and stared deadly into them. "Cursed? What do you mean by that, young man?"

-"I..I've heard the story as well. The Raven...or Trickster as that Thing there said...he tried to steal the treasures buried down there, but had to flee when he was attacked by a beast!"

"And the curse?"

-"He...I don't know if it's true, but he told me that the beast spirits 'gifted' the Raven with prolonged life. But it was a curse, for the attack blinded him for life...Please don't blind me like him, it was just a story he told me to make me go away! Just a silly children's story!"

"Be quiet, prisoner." Thaliar interrupted Edwin at the end, his mind racing through the information they had just been given. And though it did sound like a children's story, Thaliar still proceeded with his question. "You said that He told you this story. Who was he?" It was a long shot, a really long shot in the dark, but desperate times and all that. They had to know. 

-"Some old man in the village of...of...Greaweald! Old man with a staff, I don't know his name...Spoke to me like I was a child..."

Thaliar looked back up at his companions with a look of confusion and deep thought covering his face. This was weird, very very weird. "Do we believe the child?"

[hr]

[h2][center]Ragnar the Blind[/center][/h2]

The guards did indeed take note of the old man making his way out of the tavern, and one mean-looking Black Hat stepped forward to physically stop Ragnar from leaving. The man grabbed firm hold of his staff, holding it back with force as he demanded to know where Ragnar was going. And on cue one of the other villagers reassured the Black Hat that no one was rushing of, which Ragnar took as an excellent oppertunity to fall. Flat. On his face. It sounded painful to everyone in the tavern. 

Too bad for them that it was the oldest trick in the book. His book. 

"What has this world come to, when the protectors of the Realm are attacking old defensless men in broad daylight? No, no, I'm fine. Thank you child." Ragnar said in his familiar and calm voice, getting a little help back on his feet and given the staff back by the Black Hat. It appeared that the old man was as harmless as he looked like, with those empty eyes and the way he supported himself with the staff. But the Black Hat, named Brutus after his great-great grandfather who fought in the Hill Wars and died in the Third Battle of Blood Stream, did catch sight of Ragnar giving a brief shake of his head towards Letha as she began to cry. He didn't know what was going on, but something was certainly afoot. 

Ragnar reached out his hand to feel the door, and fumbled with it before getting outside the tavern. And though it was as dark as ever for Ragnar the Blind, he certainly could feel it be more open that the crowded tavern. Now the real task began.