Another slain...eh purified.

A flash of blue, red, yellow and white assault the almond eyes of the elf. The visage of the vrock still emblazoned on his reflexes, he sees the blast too late. The insufferable heat washes over his form. He hears the bowstring of the Eagle Cry snap. The crackle of his torso tells him that the Dark Leaf armor has turned to cinder. The smell...ghastly.

The pick delicately and deftly slides from the too complex lock.

"That was too easy!" he thinks to himself.

The sound of revelry and merriment can be heard on the other side of the heavy iron door. The barrier slides effortlessly open without a sound of complaint. The chamber is enormous. Bathed in tapestries of rich reds and yellows, pillows of every description, it wreaks of opulence and comfort. Revelers in various forms of undress laugh, sing and drink. Melodic and dulcet tones rain on them from a lute, played under the expert and tender ministrations of an olive skinned man. Brown of hair, dressed in silks and satins, the man's eyes fall on the newcomer at door.

"Enter, I bid you welcome, traveler. Your journey, tho swift, was a hard one. Please take comfort, drink and nourishment."

For the first time, Thalinor, since picking the lock becomes aware of his attire. He is now barefoot in billowing silk breeches and flowing robe. Moments ago he was dressed in flame blasted armor.

The platinum trays of foods, many of them so exotic that Thalinor had never heard of there kind, were ceaseless. The wines and spirits a torrent with nary a drop wasted. The wenches, beauty enough to drive nymph or succubus to tears of jealousy.

"Ha Ha, laugh my friend, the great game has ended and the tables have turned on the table turner. The stealthy has been caught, and the laugh is on the prankster." the brown haired man laughed as he spoke.

Silently taking in the man's words, Thalinor wondered how it was he came to be in this place of delightful debauchery and vice. Then a moment of remembrance, an epiphany overtook the rogue.

"The blasted spell slinging sorcerer!" Thalinor's laughter elicited spontaneous and infectious giggles from all in attendance. "He lit me up like a Richfest festival in Vunderbilt." Thalinor thought.

The man's voice was a thousand bells, his music was a thousand times as many. Those around him, the men slinging jokes, laughter, and song, the women smiling, caressing, and undulating in the lush sheets all bearing rosy cheeks and permanent grins.

"This is forever, my friend, you have arrived. I am, as you may have guessed, Olidammara. Your patron, your host and your servant. This is Ysgard. As you will see, it is anything I want it to be. There is no room for misery here, no temperance, and certainly no chaste." a wide grin formed on his rakish face as he spoke.

The music was intoxicating, the food delicious, the women soft, the wine was indescribable and plentiful, as Thalinor fell to the lush pillows atop the deep carpet he again thought to himself, "It would be a strong force indeed to wrest me from this place."