"So, this is the place..." Laska said as she and Rose arrived at a strange looking building, looking very chaotically built, as if it was composed of mixed building-styles. A small sign at the door said 'Python Café' in multi-colored letters.

"I dunno," Rose said, looking forward to a romantic dinner for two before Laska would leave for Windspear, but the reputation of the Python Café gave her pause. "I've heard this place is weird."

"Oh, don't worry," Laska grinned as she opened the door to let Rose in, "I'll protect you..."

The door gave access to a dark but strangely comical looking interior, which seemed to be much larger than what the building should have allowed. The place was packed, yet there was a calm atmosphere. Several tables were in use by a myriad of strange people, and humans wearing unusual clothes were flocked around the bar in the back of the room.

Laska and Rose approached the bar, and noticed the odd bartender. A 'woman', or more to the point, a man dressed as a woman, who was not intent on hiding he was, in fact, a man. (S)he turned to the couple as they approached and spoke in a fake high-pitched voice. "So, what'll it be then..."

"We'd like a romantic dinner for two," Laska beamed.

"What's on the menu?" Rose asked, a little worried.

"Well," the not-so-female bartender responded, "there's egg and bacon. Egg, sausage and bacon. Egg and spam. Egg, bacon and spam. Egg, bacon, sausage and spam. Spam, bacon, sausage and spam. Spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon and spam. Spam, sausage, spam, spam, spam, bacon, spam, tomato and spam. Spam, spam, spam, egg and spam. Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, spam and spam..."

"That's... a lot of spam," Rose gulped.

"Hey, do you know your parrots are dead?" Laska said as she regarded an indoor aviary filled with blue parrots... lying on the floor.

"Oh, those are just Norwegian Blues," the not-so-female bartender replied. "Anyway, they're not dead, they're just resting..."

"I think I know a dead parrot when I see one," Laska muttered.

"Kinda makes you wonder where all that spam really comes from," Rose whispered.

"Or," the not-so-female bartender continued, "lobster thermador ecrovets with a bournaise sauce, served in the purple salmon or with chalots and overshies, garnished with truffle pate, brandy, a fried egg on top... and spam."

"Have you got anything without spam?" Rose asked, looking and feeling a little queasy, while Laska glanced over her shoulder while a distinguished looking gentleman with a mustache who was walking in a peculiar fashion. The man suddenly extended his right leg forward, slammed it back down, crossed his legs and, took a few steps back, made a small jump forward and extended his right leg and threw it over the barstool just before sitting down.

"Well, there's spam, egg, sausage and spam. That's not got much spam in it," the bartender replied, looking a little miffed.

"I don't want any spam!" Rose all but shouted. "I didn't even eat spam when I was dead poor and lived in a rotting shed!"

"A rotting shed?" a wiry looking man sitting at the bar suddenly interrupted. "Why, you were lucky, you were. When I was a kid, me and my thirteen brothers and sisters lived in a hole in the ground covered with two planks!"

"You were lucky!" Another man spoke up. "We were evicted from our hole in the group. There were 150 of us living in a shoe-box in the middle of the road."

At that moment, a much chagrined faux-female hot-dog salesman with a moustache walked by shouting... 'Albatros... ALBATROSS!!! Pelican-bon-bons! Seagull-sicle... ALLBBBAAATRRROSSS!"

"What's up with those guys?" Laska asked, pointing to a group of black armored knights sitting in the back of the room.

"Oh, those are just the Knights Who Say 'Ni!'," the bartender replied. "They come in here every night but never eat anything. They just want a shrubbery, and that's not on the menu. Well, shrubbery-and-spam is, but they don't like spam either..." she said, while Laska glanced at an odd painting of a house which was gobbling up people for some obscure reason.

"Could you do my egg, bacon, spam and sausage without the spam then?" A hungry Rose said, still trying to get herself a spamless dinner.

The not-so-female bartender crumpled her/his face in disgust. "Ech!"

"What do you mean 'ech'?!" Rose said, now getting a bit cross. "I don't like spam!"

"Errr, Rose?" Laska asked as she noticed a huge man sitting in the back of the room. Normally, that was not strange, but this enormously fat bloke had been eating for hours and now seemed to be... expanding rapidly.

"Look, could we just get the lobster?" Rose said, still negotiating with the bartender. But Laska quickly grabbed her by the arm and led her towards the door leading outside.

"Typical elves," a brown-suited man with a strange accent spoke. "All the kids are on drugs and the adults are on roller-skates."

"Say," the moustached man with the silly walk suddenly replied. "This is the silliest skit I've ever been in..."

"What? This?" the brown-suited man responded. "Shall we end it, then?"

"Sure..." Silly Walk replied and both men got up and left.

Meanwhile, the fat bloke was near reaching critical mass, and just when Laska and Rose were about to escape, an old man suddenly jumped on front of the door. "HALT!" he shouted. "If thee wants to pass by me, you must first answer questions three!"

"SOD OFF!" Laska shouted and shoved the man outside. As the two lovers jumped through the door, they kept running until they had reached a small dry aqueduct and immediately dove into it. Back at the Python Café, a huge explosion could be heard, and an endless amount of food exploded from the Café's windows.

Elf and half-elf watched the spectacle for a moment, then looked at each other.

"Copper Coronet?" Rose asked.

"Copper Coronet," Laska confirmed.

"Laska," Rose asked as she found her staring at the sky. "Are you coming?"

"Just a minute," the tattooed elf replied. "For some reason, I am expecting a giant foot to slam down from the sky and crush us."

"Hold that clasp, will you?" Viconia asked as Laska and her party were, once again, standing at the Order's corral just outside the city, and, once again, the horses they had been allowed to borrow were being led to the preparation point for the long trip to Windspear. In the meantime, Laska was helping Viconia to get in her new armor. The Drow wore a tight green suede matching tunic and pants. When asked why she had suddenly changed her garment, she told everyone she was tired of wearing baggy robes, plus, it would be a cool enough undergarment for the magical plate-mail she had bought yesterday. Today, she was giving the brand-new enchanted armor a shakedown.

Laska took the clasp and pulled it, safely fastening the leg-protector around her friend's right knee.

"I know I've said this before, but are you really sure that you want to wear this armor?" Laska asked while patting Viconia's chestplate with her knuckles.

On cue, Viconia moved her body with lightning-speed, bending on one knee, grasping a twig from the ground and standing upright again, all in less than a second. "See?" Viconia smirked. "I'm still as agile as before. This plate-mail might be unnaturally light, but I can still dodge like I have always been able too."

"Chainmail allows more freedom, you know?" Laska nodded.

"Yes, yes," Viconia sighed, "we all know how acrobatic you can get, but I am not as strong as you, so I'm not able to lift my own armored body and do backflips like you do, so I might as well go for a higher protection-value." And Laska knew the Drow was right. Viconia was more agile than she, so the type of armor she wore in combat didn't make that much difference, but, judging from her own acrobatic techniques, Laska would be seriously impaired if she wore anything else than chain-mail.

In the meantime, Viconia was looking powerful and not someone to mess with in the light-blue plate mail. A sly grin crossed her face when a certain half-elf made her way across the corral.

"I'll leave you two... to your business," Viconia winked. "Look, I know there's plenty of haystacks around here, but please try to keep your goodbyes short and to the point. We do have a long travel ahead, you know?"

Now feeling slightly embarrassed, Laska made her way across the corral, taking Rose in a firm embrace.

"Just come back," Rose whispered.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's a simple orc-hunt," the elf muttered, feeling slightly offended, "I've stopped a war, cleared out Durlag's Tower, survived the Cult of the Eyeless. I've even sparred with demons from the Nine Hells itself and... I....CAN'T believe I just said that..."

Rose giggled a moment, but her smile soon faded. Taking a moment to stroke Laska's tattooed cheek, she spoke softly : "I... I've heard so much things about Lord Firkraag, and if only half of the rumors are true then Firkraag is a wicked, wicked man. Just... don't trust him, keep on your toes."

"Well, if he makes any trouble, I'll kick his ass," Laska said resolutely. "Oh, by the way," she whispered, her sensitive ears having picked up on the clues, "we have an audience..."

Elf and Half-Elf turned their gaze upon two sandy-haired stablehands, twin brothers, no more than fourteen years of age. Both boys were staring rather nervously at the two women. The face off lasted about a minute, until one of the boys pushed the other forwards. "Come on, ask them, man!" he hissed.

Both boys stepped forward, and both Laska and Rose noticed they didn't look them in the eyes as they spoke. In fact, their eyesight tended to focus a little bit lower than that.

"So, uh," the boy said, started to sweat, grow red and stuttered, "theresapartyatthesaucymermaidtonightwouldyouliketobeourdatesandbecomeourwomen?"

"Let them down easy or be mean?" Rose asked.

"Let's be mean," the elf grinned and captured Rose's lips with her own. After their passionate liplock ended, Laska looked back to the gaping boys.

"Sorry, lads," Laska grinned, "but as you can see we are both taken..."

The other boy simply stared with open mouth. "C-c-could you do that again, please?" he responded with hopeful eyes.

"One more memory to cherish," Rose said, taking the initiative this time.

The boys looked upon them as if they were living a fragile dream, which was promptly broken when a gruff voice shouted from all the way on the other side of the corral. "Oy, Big-Ears!" it shouted, "we be waitin' fer ye, 'ere!"

The trip was uneventful and the party was making wonderful time. For once, there were no trees in the road, no mud slides obscuring the path, no highway-men trying to rob them, nor did anyone fall ill and there were plenty of rations on the cart Korgan was handling.

At first nightfall, they were only half a day away from Windspear. The party set up camp and had a pleasant dinner : good food among good friends. When it was time to go to rest for the night, Dynaheir worked her usual magic to keep the camp safe from harm. Still, having learned their lesson from a previous encounter, they still elected someone to keep watch. And, to the result of much cursing and threats, Korgan drew the shortest straw.

The balmy night was progressing nicely, and Keldorn stepped out of the tent, getting ready to take his shift.

"Ach," Korgan muttered, "there ye be! I be thinkin' this shift be never-ending..."

"I hope you were not bored, my good dwarf," Keldorn nodded.

"Nay, nay," Korgan sighed, "but ye be trying ta deal with those broodin' girlies, long-limb," Korgan said as he dragged himself towards the tent. "And if ye be ever callin' me 'good dwarf' again, I be slicin' yer legs off!" he said just before disappearing into the tent.

Keldorn shook his head and took his place near the fire-pit, his Hallow Redeemer ever in reach, wondering about Korgan's words earlier. But he did not have to ponder long. He noticed Laska was leaning against a gnarly old tree in the middle of camp, apparently staring at the moon above. She was not wearing her armor, just her casual leather pants and vest.

"Amazing spell, isn't it?" Keldorn said, opening the conversation as he strolled towards the brooding elf.

"One of Dynaheir's finest," Laska replied. Dynaheir had cast the 'Safe Haven'-spell, not only encasing the entire camp in a powerful force-field, but also giving the illusion to the outside world that the camp was blended into the surrounding landscape. In this case, it probably probably a boulder from the outside. Keldorn noticed a mountain-lion had apparently taken a perch on that 'boulder'. For within the camp, the beast seemed to be suspended in mid-air, giving the dangerous animal a rather comical appearance.

"Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?" Keldorn asked. "We have a long day ahead still, and Orcish raiders are reported near Windspear..."

"Yeah, yeah," Laska sighed. "I would sleep, but I'm having trouble with my arms..."

"Your arms?" Keldorn asked with growing concern. "Pray tell, what is the matter with your arms?"

"Well, for one thing, Rosie isn't sleeping in them..." Laska replied with a weak smirk.

"I see," Keldorn nodded.

"It's funny, you know... All my previous semi-romantic encounters with men and women I found attractive never lasted longer than a night. Not so with Rosie... I really... want to be with her. And I really like her. Her smile, the smell of her hair, her quirky giggle, the way her eyes light up whenever she laughs..."

"You're falling in love with her," Keldorn replied. "Such things happen..."

"Keldorn," Laska said, turning around to face him. "She hasn't had an easy life, you know, and she needs stability, and," Laska half-chuckled, "I'm not really a stable person myself."

"Rose might need stability," Keldorn said, "but what she wants is you, my friend..."

"It would be easier if Rose was an adventurer like I am," Laska sighed. "Even if our relationship blossoms, I will not be around her that much..."

"This something I, sadly, have ample experience with," Keldorn sighed. "I might sound like a colossal hypocrite when I say this, but you must try to find a balance between life on the road and life back home. I'm sad to say I've favored one life more than the other... But for you, adventuring and doing good is not a duty like it is for me."

"But Rose and I..."

"Let me guess," Keldorn broke in, "you feel guilty because you think you are holding back Rose's new life, you feel you're not good enough for her because you cannot be a stabilizing influence and you don't want Rose to become an adventurer because you fear for her safety?"

"Basically," Laska replied, "yeah..."

Keldorn snorted and leaned against the stump. "Well, that ties it. You're in love..."

"You've hanging around Viconia too much, I see," Laska smirked.

Immediately, Keldorn drew away from the tree and let his formerly non-galantness fade. "My point is, my friend, that you, as an elf, are blessed with the gift of long life. You should grasp love whenever you find it, because it would be a shame if you spent the coming millennia alone."

"Hah!" Laska snorted. "If I even live that long... I could be killed by a stray arrow tomorrow, even!"

"No, my friend," Keldorn smiled. "I know for certain that you will live a very, very long life. But you yourself need to fill up that time, and make your life worth living."

Laska seemed to ponder the aged paladin's words for a moment, then smiled. "Thanks Keldorn... I'll think about your words..." she said, and strolled towards the tent. But just she had reached the tent-flap, she turned around, wearing a broad grin. "In fact, I've just thought about them! As soon as I get back to Athkatla, I'm going to ask Rose to move in with me..." That said, Laska disappeared inside the tent.

But as one problem was solved, a second one arose. The mage known as Dynaheir staggered out of the tent and walked towards the small hole in the ground covered by a small wooden bench, which served as their makeshift latrine. Concern gripped Keldorn's throat as he heard the mage was quickly hurling up their evening meal. Deciding to give the woman some privacy during this embarrassing moment, he stayed back until Dynaheir returned to the tent and passed by the campfire. The two of them locked eyes, while Keldorn offered the woman some warm water. The young Wychlaran nodded in gratitude and slowly emptied the cup.

"Are you well?" Keldorn asked.

"No," Dynaheir sighed, while sitting down across the campfire. "No, I am not... It's.. it's an ailment I haven't experienced for many years now... My head is throbbing, my stomach is churning, I feel tired and I feel dizzy."

"Spell-sickness," Keldorn confirmed. As an Inquisitor, he knew that wizards wielding powerful magics could befall to this ailment whenever too many spells of extreme power were cast in rapid succession.

"Thou art correct, unfortunately," Dynaheir nodded. "Ever since I was a little girl, I was judged to have an exceptional grasp of magics. But, unfortunately, my body would succumb to spell-sickness after every casting. The mind was willing, the body was failing. I was constantly behind on the other apprentices, even though I possessed more power than them. So, with iron discipline and will, I set out to suppress the spell-sickness by mediation and practise. And, as long as I could get my power-level in perfect harmony with my body, I would no longer get spell-sickness..."

"But during your time as a vampire, your powers have increased significantly," Keldorn said, "and your body hasn't had the chance to catch up..."

"Thou art right again," Dynaheir sighed. "Undead do not suffer from spell-sickness... Oh, well, 'tis a mere obstacle to overcome. I am certain it shall not cause problems in the near future, but perhaps I should not have cast this powerful protection-spell over our camp this soon."

"My lady," Keldorn spoke, "if you ever need to talk about your time as a vampire, you shall find a willing ear..."

"I thank thee for thy kind offer," Dynaheir nodded, "but it is... still too soon."

Keldorn nodded, while Dynaheir bowed her head and returned to her tent in silence, leaving the aged paladin to stare at the fire and resume his watch.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice sounded from the shadows. Viconia, dressed in her green suede suit, stepped from her perch, "you are turning into quite the agony aunt. Perhaps you should open an office in Athkatla and charge for it. With all the emotional wrecks in that accursed city, you would no doubt be able to buy Amn in a few years."

"Viconia," Keldorn greeted. Viconia nodded at sat down in the same place across the fire where Dynaheir had been seated only moments ago. "It's been a while since we had our last chat."

"As Laska would say 'stuff came up'," Viconia smirked, referring to the adventures in Keep De'Arnise and the planar prison.

"You are not asleep either," Keldorn remarked.

"Really?" Viconia chuckled. "I hadn't noticed! I must have been sleepwalking... But, no, truth be told I came out of the tent to look at the forest. It's... robust, wild, strong... and incredibly alluring. How can someone not respect the strength of an oak? Rising from the ground and growing to the light until it is high above its brethren. It's inspiring, really."

"It might be the elf in you, Viconia," Keldorn smiled, "Drow and elves might not be as far apart as your races claim to be..."

"Mind your tongue, Keldorn," Viconia snarled, but her dark eyes shone with gentle humor, "for any other Drow than me, or any other elf than Laska for the matter, would carve your heart from your chest for that insult. But, I used to spend quite some time in the great mushroom gardens of Menzoberranzan. I felt content for some reason. A warning," Viconia added, "I might like the forests, but do not expect me to start frolicking naked through the woods like Laska's elven sisters enjoy doing."

"I wouldn't dream of it!" the aged paladin replied quickly. A brief silence fell between them, which Viconia broke.

"Besides, I find the forest quite artful... I like art, you know, and, well, dark-natured human art is fine, but it pales in comparison to the work of Drow artisans. The Mural of Menzoberra, for example, is beauty beyond words. Artisans started working on it when the city was just founded, and it was still not finished when I last saw it. The oldest parts are over twenty-thousand years old, and the entire mural is now over a thousand meters long. Dark, haunting patterns, mesmerizing," Viconia spoke with longing, "I wonder how many meters have been added since I was forced to leave. It pains me to think that I will never see it again."

"You speak often of the Underdark. Do you miss it at all?" Keldorn said, knowing full well that his question was a probing one.

Viconia sighed deeply as she lowered her gaze to stare at the fire. "Deep Drow is inelegant when discussing beauty, but my home tongue has over seventy words for cruel. Few of my sisters prized the sights of our dark world, but I ache for them each night. The undersea of Laratrak, for example, defies words. To sail across takes two days luent to linoin...east to west... three days trezen to werneth...north to south. Massive stalactites overhead shimmer from the bloodless pallor of lichen and as you sail, a bleak dead world flows beneath, the playground of blind fish and fallen deities... How I miss it," she sighed. "Whenever I led trademissions for House DeVir from Menzoberranzan to Rilauven, I used to spend hours on end standing on the railing of the fore-section of the ship, simply staring at the sea in front of us. I also remember also the crystal spires of Ustlat, a pinnacle of Drow architecture. Living crystal pruned and gardened with gems and a master jeweler's care, it spoke of defiance, strength and freedom..."

Viconia sighed. "Well, enough nostalgia," she spoke, the sentimental tone slowly vanishing from her voice. "I'd better get some rest..." she concluded, leaving Keldorn to tend to the fire alone.

The rest of Keldorn's shift was uneventful, but Keldorn, as always, was poised to do his duty.