Meravyel wasn't certain that Galen would get the turnout his endeavor would require. He wanted to activate and attempt to defeat whatever powers were bound by the altar within the Bedlam cemetery's central mausoleum. A part of her thrilled at the idea. A part of her dreaded the discovery. As time passed and her experiences mounted, she found that she did believe some things are best left unknown or undiscovered. Still, the dangerous curiosity that fueled her, continued to drive her in these pursuits. She could not refuse to at least try.

The mausoleum contained a set of stairs leading downward into what was once a simple and small Crypt. Three sarcophagi lined the western wall of the hall that stretched out from the stair landing. But to the east... excavation younger than that of the original crypt opened up into what could only be a lecture hall. Stools, in surprising repair, lined the north and south sides of the central, depressed area. Flagstones were laid to form a floor and stairs. At its center, instead of a podium, stood the altar. Along the eastern wall were larger, stone chairs. Meravyel presumed these would serve as seats for professors, or whoever might've headed whatever surely secret society created this place.

To the north and south were areas that contained bookshelves. They were largely bare. Again, flagstones had been laid to form an even floor. To the south was what Meravyel determined to be a 'laboratory' area of the hall. Blood, older than perhaps even she, stained the tables and the floor. Nearly all remnants of any equipment that may have been here were long ago removed or looted. Or possibly broken and dissolved by the acid of the interred grizzles that were likely created here.

Rumors paired with research helped to prepare her for what was to come. Perhaps not to face the creature that waited for a worthy challenger, but for those things that made the challenger worthy. She sought the finest smiths and tailors to be certain her armor was in good repair. She met with a reclusive alchemist in Cove and had her kimono treated with a chemical the woman claimed would resist disease and decay. Meravyel did not intend to bring any 'surprises' with her from the journey. If she returned. If any of them did. She also bought the strongest bowstring she could find. She filled her quiver impossibly full. It would mean death to run out of ammunition down there.

All in all, the assault went as hoped. The first waves of attacks were easily handled by the energy vortices summoned by the mages on hand.

When discussing the monsters they were likely to face, Meravyel posed the question of whether or not paralysis still functioned against Plague Beast Lords, as it once did in the Yewish Swamps. Someone in the crowd claimed it would not hold them, in that place. Meravyel frowned, but nodded. She was no mage, and therefore couldn't test the theory herself.

Yet, when the third wave hit and the plague beast lords began to grow more and more powerful by dissolving and absorbing the corpses of the fallen around them... One mage dared to try. And it worked! Meravyel hurried over, dismissing her shadowy unicorn steed and drawing her dagger from her belt. It couldn't move or lash out, but it's life functions continued. The plague beast lord's body gurgled and writhed within the effects of the paralysis. She hesitated for only a moment, her stomach threatening to tumble out the contents of her dinner...

Her dagger met surprising resistance against the rubbery flesh of the plague beast lord. The blade pierced through the thing's "skin" with a sickening pop, and the sigh of escaping gas. She held her breath and wrenched her dagger across the beast's form. It took all of her strength and a little leverage. She nearly slipped in the slimy blood that spilled from the beast. The foot-long gash she cut into it split further open of its own accord, and the indistinguishable stew that comprised the monster's internal workings gushed forth and across the already slick stones.

This was repeated whenever she saw a nearby mage paralyze one of the lords.

"Paralysis works! Use it on the Beast Lords!" She shouted to those that could hear her over the din of grizzle bones scraping on the flagstones, acid hissing through metal, leather, and flesh, and the screams of those burning.

Things seemed to move more quickly after that. The third wave died, and from the thick layer of decaying body fluids rose clouds of disease and decay. They seemed sentient, but scattered in their focus. Meravyel fired an arrow into the mist, aiming carefully should her arrow pass through the other side... The mist closed around the shaft, but quickly pulled away. The enchantments on her arrows seemed to harm it. As she watched the others battle the clouds, their results seemed similar.

She fired faster and with more confidence. Pausing once or twice, she concentrated and created her own animates from the remains of the plague beast lords. They mindlessly fought the clouds, immune to the sprays of diseased mist they ejected. There were also mummies... but Meravyel caught details that didn't fit with what she knew of traditional mummies. The bandages, and even the flesh of these creatures seemed more... decayed. The essence of a mummy was that of a preserved corpse. These more closely resembled bandaged rotting corpses. She wasn't going to let one get close enough to touch her.

Nor would many others, from the looks of things.

As three clouds closed in around her, a hunger seeming to pulse through them, there was a howl from the center of the lecture hall. Her attention snapped to the altar. Standing on the altar, it's misshapen legs easily straddling the Idol... was a very large grizzle. It looked less like a construct and more like... something else. The sound that issued from it made her skin crawl and her hair stand on end. Despite the sticky, disgusting heat of the enclosed cavern, Meravyel shivered as an unnatural chill passed through her.

The clouds took advantage of her momentary distraction. All three of them darted forward, enveloping her. Fire erupted around her in the dampness of the clouds. Flamestrikes from mages turned the clouds into steam that rose to the ceiling. As the clouds evaporated away, two other mages cast cleansing spells over Meravyel. She looked again to the center of the fray.

The creature swung one of its massive limbs. A darkly clothed figure flew back, landing heavily on the upper flagstones. It was Galen. Of course the peredhil would be the first to charge down something like this. Again, she shivered. The sight of the beast unsettled the elfmaid like few other things could.

By the time she slogged through the fallen remains of the waves of beasts that kept this creature's secrets, it had fallen. The group that had gathered for this journey had worked surprisingly well, and effectively considering the enclosed space and the strength of the waves...

Galen regained his feet just before the creature perished, and Meravyel's worry faded.

The group cleared fairly quickly, once the meager treasures had been picked over. Meravyel summoned her steed, so that she wouldn't have to walk through the sludge... Her feet were bare, and now burnt by the acid of the grizzles.

Spoz, Galen's former guildmaster and leader of the Warriors of Redemption, lingered for a moment. Meravyel was always secretly pleased when she saw WoR participate in these ventures. Some of their numbers had come to assist her with Serrado the Awakened. Without them, paired with the others that came, she was certain the task would have been doomed to failure.

The two men exchanged words and saluted one another, and Spoz rode out of the Crypt.

Meravyel could hear the voices of a few lingerers nearer to the stairs, but only she and Galen remained in the lecture hall.

"I now understand why no mention was ever made of this place," Galen half-mumbled, with a cigarette between his lips. He took one long drag, looked at it, and then extinguished it. "There is naught here but death."

Meravyel looked around. His observation was certainly not incorrect, even if incomplete. "There's a lot more than death here. There's-"

Galen held up a hand, something having caught his eye. Meravyel allowed the interruption and fell silent; she wasn’t ready to share her thoughts on the subject anyway. Her eyes followed his gaze. He pointed, as he dismounted, to the altar. "What's that?"

"An altar?" Meravyel smirked, likewise dismissing her mount and wincing as her feet touched the stones. The chemical burns would need treated, but were not any more disabling than a brush-burned knee.

He knelt on one of the stone steps, and gestured more specifically to some markings. "These."

He moved to give Meravyel space when she knelt and leaned in to study what had caught his eye. She pulled off her gloves and ran her fingertips over the markings. "Chemical burns." She nodded to a nearby broken and bleeding grizzle. Its blood still hissed where it touched the blood of other fallen creatures.

"No, it looks too much like writing." Galen frowned. Either at the idea, or at her reluctance to grant his finding more credence.

Meravyel pursed her lips. Her curiosity and good sense warred with one another. She thought the same thing, but did she really want to know what it said? She sighed and looked again. Her eyes narrowed. "It is shorthand."

"Shorthand for what?" He had surprising patience with her.

"Necromantic shorthand." It was as if she didn't hear him, or wasn't listening. As if she were speaking out loud, to herself. "Normally only used by advanced level students. It isn't all that current either." Her fingers caressed the grooves. Most of them she couldn't make out. Only three symbols were clearly legible.

"How do you...?" Galen stopped. Perhaps he didn't want to know. Perhaps he already did.

"It's an older dialect. Most of it is too worn to make out reliably. It was probably carved with a horn." Her eyes searched the ground near them and she found a grizzle horn that had been broken off in the battle. "Dipped in the acid. The lines are too precise to be anything else." She pulled a flask from her pocket. She had taken the time to fill three of these with grizzle blood. In a demonstration, she dipped the horn into the acid. It didn't burn away like most other things. Using the tip of the horn, she added her own symbol to the end of the still legible ones.

"What does that say?"

"Defeated."

"The first part."

She offered him a wry smile. She put the flask away, and wrapped the horn up and put it in her satchel. She had collected a few others for later study as well. "As near as I can tell, it appears to be a warning." She pointed to a faded symbol. "That should be 'beware'. And here..." she pointed to the three symbols.

Galen waited, looking at her.

"Ilhenir the Stained."

Epilogue to What a Night
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil

Warning: Some of the following is a little graphic in its description. Mild animal violence. Maybe.

( Epilogue )

Reprieve - What a Night, Part Ten!
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil

( Reprieve )

The Broken Way - What a Night, Part Nine
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil
( The Broken Way )

Melyanna's Suspicions - What a Night, Part Eight
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil
( Melyanna's Suspicions )

Accusations - What a Night, Part Seven
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil

[There is a 'peanut gallery' from here forward. I didn't want to leave out their 'nonimportant' comments, because they made the night VERY enjoyable. The peanut gallery consisted of... The Shadow, Maligor the Red, Alyzia, occasionally Faelen. Enjoy!]
( Accusations )

Hollow Victories - What a Night, Part Six
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil
( Hollow Victories )

The Death of Q'wellen A'thori - What a Night, Part Five
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil

Author's Note: I really dislike the 'interaction' with the "NPC" types in this section. It is due for a rewrite.
( The Death of Q'wellen A'thori )

Q'wellen, the Cursed Megilindir - What a Night, Part Four
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil
( Q'wellen, the Cursed Megilindir )

Khellenduras' Lantern - What a Night, Part Three
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil
( Khellenduras' Lantern )

Herald of the Raven - What a Night, Part Two
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil



Myra stepped through the gate that Maligor had opened for her, to the Silver Arrow. It came up beside the Arrow, where the wind swept in from the northeast off of the bay. Myra closed her eyes and smiled for a brief moment, enjoying the cool caress of the breeze. She could smell spring in the air. But she sensed something else as well, and stepping around the corner her suspicions were confirmed. Andrew Do'Kora. He glanced back only slightly as she circled around behind him with a pleasant smile.

"Do we always greet guests outside?" She glanced at the crowd standing around. She moved to stand beside Ainuyr, as he appeared to be the one with whom Andrew was "facing off".

Mike replied offhandedly. "Well it is a nice evening." Allanen was standing on the steps to the Arrow and added, "Some 'guests' are best left outside." And Ainuyr commented quietly, his eyes never leaving Andrew, "I'd rather be standing."

Andrew shot her an unamused look, and returned his attention to Ainuyr. Myra replied to the unamused look with a sweet smile for Andrew.

Crimson spoke up, "We are listening to the lich's lackey here."

"Oh? Is he telling a good tale?"

That seemed to get Andrew's attention, though he pretended to ignore Crimson, and turned his attention once more upon Myra. She was feeling so antagonistic... she almost hoped he'd try something.

She heard Mike from somewhere off to her side, "He is bearing the forked tongue of the lich."

"Perhaps you know the answer. Afterall, you were present when I presented the proposal..."

Myra moved just a bit closer to Ainuyr and he seemed to relax a little, but kept his eyes fixed warily upon Andrew.

"You've come for your answer then?"

Andrew nodded once. Her pale green eyes locked on his own blue gaze. And she smiled. A large, very happy smile. The smile of... well, an overly pleased smile.

"I think you might be pleased." She began.

Andrew stood up straight, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.

Myra continued. Let him attack her here, in front of all of these people... "But if I recall correctly, I can sum up our answer in just two words." She gave an exaggerated look of feigned thought. "I believe what you can tell Khell is..." She spoke slowly to drag out the sentence. " "Stuff it." " She finished her statement by smiling her prettiest smile and fluttering her lashes at him.

"Well said." Ainuyr nodded with grim approval.

Andrew's expression twisted very slightly, hardly noticed, and then he closed his eyes for a moment. Seemingly reluctant? "Very well." He gave Myra a short bow, which she returned with a mocking curtsey. "I shall see you on the field then..." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Myra was nearly giddy. "Oh, that made me feel MUCH better!"

The group of them fell into light conversation, discussing Andrew Do'Kora and his new 'master', Khellenduras. Myra was feeling on top of the world, though. Myra began thinking... She could have followed Andrew, she was pretty sure. A few days past, K'ryn had come to her and warned her of a new temple...

Maligor interupted her thoughts, "Myra, what do you seek at Khell's home?"

Myra frowns slightly, ignoring his question, instead she sent off a pigeon or two with some messages. Now was as good a time as any to see if any of the scholars she'd hired had found any information for her.

Something else caught her eye in the sky, as she released a third pigeon... A raven. Its hoarse call resounded over the forest as it circled above the Silver Arrow. Absently, she set her hand on her quiver. All the arrows held within were made by her own hand, and fletched with the feathers of those accursed birds that were sent as spies for Khellenduras.

Myra strung her bow, watching the bird circle.

Maligor and a female friend of his, Alyzia watched the bird overhead, as Myra paced. "If it bothers you that much, shoot it down," Alyzia said.

Myra frowned and hesitated... Taking an arrow from her quiver, she noched it and drew back, taking careful aim. One shot was all it took, and the raven fell to the ground with a thud, Myra's black fletched arrow protruding from its body.

"That oughta get his attention."

Trinsic, Quest for the Paladins - What a Night, Part One
From the Chronicles of Myra Sunveil with some minor grammatical editting

Myra made her way quickly through the sandstone streets of Trinsic. Since The Shadow had resigned as Mayor, it seemed the streets were a little more crowded than she first remembered. But she supposed that was for the best; afterall, this was a human city, and she'd always been told that most of them were bustling places.

Stepping into the Keg and Anchor, at least thirty minutes before the meeting was set to begin, Myra was greeted by the sight of a rather sizable gathering. But she wasn't late, much to her relief, and people continued to file in here and there.

Soon enough a stately looking older man entered and Galahad moved forward to greet him.

"William!"

"Galahad! How are things?"

"How was the trip Councillor?"

"A fantastic fishing trip."

"Things are better now that you're here."

"Was I missed?"

Galahad motioned to a table and the two of them had a seat. "Truth be told, we didn't know you were gone until recently... when you were needed."

"Needed?"

Galahad only nodded.

William was obviously growing uneasy. "My family is in danger?"

"No... Have you heard any news..."

William shook his head just the slightest. "I just got in."

Myra was flirting and being 'herself' a few tables away, but was listening quite intently, though as inconspicuously as possible.

William continued. "In fact, I almost forgot I said I would come here tonight."

"Well, I have news to sadden you." Galahad hesitated.

"Yes? What is it lad?"

"I am told you were acquainted with the Paladin, Sir Pralor?"

"Aye, a good man."

With mention of the paladin's name, Myra decided it was time for her to go and pay better attention. She hopped onto the bench next to the man known as William, as he continued to speak to Galahad.

"Afraid he had to leave town thanks to your mayor here."

"He is dead. Killed by The Shadow."

A look of pure shock came to William's face.

Galahad nodded. "I'm sorry William."

"And the other paladins? Did he get them too?"

"We have no idea. We gathered tonight to find the other 'renegades'. Truthfully, we were hoping you might point us in the right direction."

"Oh dear." William frowned. "I would hardly call them renegades for wanting to stop evil. But that is the name they were given..."

"That is what The Shadow called them."

"Pralor told me where he was going to hide out."

Galahad interjected, after catching sight of Derfel's confused look at William's comments about the mayor... "We have a new Mayor now, and they would be welcomed to return."

"Well that is good news at least."

A barmaid whispered to one of the cooks "Lord Blackthorn has betrayed humanity and is raising an army!" She just happened to say it at a moment of dead silence in the Keg and Anchor... so all could hear.

Murmurs swept across the room.

William looked at Galahad. "And that is bad news."

"Yes, but that is not a matter for tonight..."

William agreed. "Well, Pralor took the paladins to the outpost near the Shrine of Spirituality. He felt its proximity to a Shrine would keep them safe. And they were guarding it in case The Shadow tried anything there. Quite dreadful. Could you go check on them?"

Galahad nodded. "We shall mount and go to them tonight."

William was looking rather distressed. "Thank you."

Myra quipped in, "Let's hope they aren't as messy as the last one." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, remembering the body of the first paladin.

William looked at her, "Messy?"

Too late, Myra realized she shouldn't have said anything, as Galahad made a 'shh' gesture at her. "Um... oops." She pursed her lips shut.

William looked back at Galahad. "How... badly did he kill Pralor?"

Galahad lowered his eyes and his voice. "Sir Pralor had his spirit ripped from his body."

"Ripped? That is horrible news."

Myra just couldn't keep her lips shut. "Daemons like doing that, I hear." She quickly put a hand over her mouth.

William nodded sadly. "I imagine so. Then go out and make sure the others are safe. I trust you don't need me for that?"

"No..." Galahad confirmed that they did not need William to attend them.

Derfel spoke up, stepping forward as everyone rose from their seats. "Lord William."

William turned to face Derfel, finishing a thought. "I want to go see his wife. She must be devestated."

Derfel stepped forward, offering out a paladin's sword and shield. "Perhaps Sir Pralor would wish you to have these."

"Thank you. I shall make certain his family receives those."

Galahad nodded. "Thank you William."

"Good luck." William recalled away.

The group was set and shortly after headed off toward the guard post, nearest the Shrine of Spirtuality. The going was pretty steady and one could almost feel the anticipation in the air. Soon enough, the post rose above the canopy of the surrounding forest and into view. No birds could be heard chirping, and the wildlife was... particularly absent. Something Myra noticed right away. With a slight shrug, she attributed that to the clamoring cavalry behind her.

The group moved around to the doors. Myra's eyes caught sight of something, but before she could investigate, the troupe of horsed riders rode over the head and into the now open doors of the outpost.

Myra eyed the trampled head. "I hope that wasn't anyone important..."

Gasps resounded from those who'd entered the outpost. Myra carefully stepped over the mangled head and into the doorway. The scene was horrific. Dismembered, torn bodies littered the area. Pieces of what used to be armor were scattered throughout the room, covered in gore and blood. Myra thought she caught the faint scent of sulfur and brimstone in the air...

She worked her way around body parts, and through the crowd, to stand next to Galahad. Apparently someone had survived this... massacre. A young paladin stood in the corner, holding everyone at bay with his halberd.

Through some patient questioning, it was revealed that The Shadow himself had come here, with a 'horde' of daemons, during one of the paladins' training sessions. The only survivor, by the name of Clyde, hid himself from The Shadow when the attack began.

"He found me. Hiding in the corner. He said he would let me live because I represented Shame. He made me watch. He ripped their souls out of their bodies. He had a book. Said he would sent their souls into Shame. He... He turned them into Blood Elementals."

"How...how many?" Galahad hesitated to ask.

"Six of them. He created six elementals and then the Daemon gated them away. Laughing about how Honor would be forever weakened while they fought in Shame."

"And he said he would sent them to Shame?"

"Yes. He worships the Sins."

"What is your name, Sir Paladin?"

"I am Clyde. I did listen to his plans, and how to foil them. I think he wanted me to hear them just so I would know how impossible it would be. If you can find the blood elementals and retrieve their blood... then take the blood to one of the Shrines and release them."

"Any shrine?" Galahad asked.

"He did not say which."

Myra stepped closer to Galahad's side and said quietly "I'd suggest Honor."

Grokken also spoke up from within the crowd. "Honor."

Galahad nodded, as did Clyde.

And so it was decided that this troupe would delve into the depths of Shame to retrieve and set free the spirits of 6 slain paladins. The fight was long and hard. Many wounds were taken along the way, but finally Galahad held in his hands 6 delicate vials of blood.

They returned to the Keg and Anchor, and from there, travelled to the Shrine of Honor. The vials were placed very carefully upon the dias leading up to the ankh, and Galahad spoke the mantra. The air veritbly tingled with energy and Myra thought she could almost feel the spirits being left free of the vials.

With their task accomplished, and everyone feeling much more at ease, the group travelled back to the Keg and Anchor once more, to celebrate!

After a few drinks and resting her feet, from all the walking that evening, Myra decided to head back to the Glade. She had to be sure the Drow weren't causing too much trouble back at the Silver Arrow...

Reminder of Myra's Once Upon a Time. Enjoy Epilogue's art.

Myra Sunveil, by Tom Babbey.