Thaidakar the Ghostblood

Something dark moved in the silence. An impression seemed to wave through the air, it could be called a voice, but that would lose all the depth in it. You have been chosen for the event. The event will begin. Now A cascade of arrows tipped with a fragment of Mordite began falling from the ceiling at deadly speeds. The hallway began sealing itself.

Suddenly, it seemed that he was walking back into the pit. Silence greeted him, an emptiness.

As the adventurer continues, the light grows and grows, becoming brighter with every echoing step.

And, in a flash, the woman moved her hand to another picture and activated the Power. Voluminous amounts of it poured into the stone. The world shifted and they were standing in a dark pit. The woman laughed shrilly, "Have fun, good friend!" She began to melt into wax, leaving behind a pool of it and a bonelike wick, a blue flame flickering upon it. The waystone trembled and cracked, shifting a few times before showing a bare surface, the rest embedded in a dark wall. The pit had no visible ceiling, only darkness. It was circular walls on all sides except for a carved archway into a long hallway with a light at the end of it. A few crystals glowed from the walls, too flat to use to climb.

The woman smiled, "Why, yes, yes I can. Come closer to the stone." The woman put her hand on a specific marking on the Waystone. "Touch it and I'll activate it."

The frog just shrugged, going back to a crawl position and wandering away into another direction. After a distance, it leapt into a portal. As it did, it morphed into a cloaked figure, glowing eyes under the hood, along with a smile.

The green frog turned to a group of trees, "Go that way for a bit, you'll bump into some Aes Sedai around there... I presume you know what a Waystone looks like?"

that's some fun reasoning, tho the last clue doesn't work in your favor as Gavinor, Elhokar's son, has not killed Szeth. So, therefore, it isn't him.

The frog ribbitted again, "I don't know, trying to find something to teleport with. Waystones are littered about with Aes Sedai to man them all around."

A frog made a ribbit sound before standing up and straightening his lime green sweater and saying, "My, my, good sir, what are you doing out here?"

Did Heleran have a grandson? (aka, nah.)

... Elhokar? If it's him, then no.

Micheal sniffed, putting his knife in its sheath and stepping away. Shadow shook his head softly, "I am sorry about my associate, he hasn't had a good few days. Thank you for the information, now I believe we will be off." Shadow walked away, forming another portal and leaping through, Micheal trailing behind with a grimace forming on his lips. Mythos had never liked fish. And, yet, here, in this dining hall, he was eating it. The most putrid of all foods that humankind decided it liked. The former Narrator sat in the chair, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table. He put the last bit of fish smothered in a delicious sauce that countered the horrid taste into his mouth, chewing for a minute, before saying, "Well... what now?" Across the table in a fine suit excellently tailored, Thaidakar Von Kelsier sat, picking apart the bones of the fish he had devoured quite soon with his knife and fork, both gold and with rubies in the handles, "What now? What do you mean, my dear fellow?" "I wish you would stop saying that... You've been watching too much old British movies," Mythos smiled slightly. "What I mean is what do we do now? Spook is your successor, you only have a fraction of your power at the moment, something dark is moving through TLT, a quest is taking place, the Shadows are slowly disappearing... And, yet, you still here, drinking fine drinks, eating whatever the storms you feel you want to have..." Thaidakar shrugged. "I figure, not much I can do anyways. No-one will listen to me, and I don't mean the person: No-one." The former head-narrator of his Author's power had a gulp of a wine he'd recently narrated into existence, an antiquated batch from the Shire. From one of the first few years of the Fourth Age, it was. "What would you have me do, anyways? Last time I got involved was catastrophic, no need to mention the Witherlord fiasco." Mythos grunted, "I just wish we were doing something instead of sitting around, watching tv shows." "Maybe I should take a page out of Nameless's book..." Thaidakar muttered. "What?" "Oh, nothing... merely remembering an old friend." The Narrator had another sip of his drink. "Exquisite, that is right there. Now, you have my permission to join that blasted quest Shadow is forming, to find Nameless and somehow stop that danger Spook saw in the temple of Plot." "Maybe I will... how is Spook, anyways?" Mythos asked, "I haven't seen him in ages. Not since he came back with the blade of Character?" "Well," Thaidakar said, "You'll just have to find him, then." "Tell me again, why are you here?" "I want a heavy pour of vodka, mixed with some lemon juice, a squeeze of lime, a pour of standard grape juice aaaaaand a special cup of Root." Spook sat at the bar, fingering the charm bracelet on his wrist as he ordered. The bartender gave him an odd look, "Aren't you a Narrator?" "Well, sure, that just means I can pay more. Now, did I order a drink or what?" Spook smiled softly, rubbing a specific sword shaped charm on the bracelet, his favorite. He'd gotten used to being a narrator quite quickly, relaxing more into the ease of knowing that he could do what he wanted however he wanted. He didn't have to listen to anyone anymore, he didn't have to deal with big ol' plots anymore... Well, not unless he wanted to. He was still worried about what he'd seen in the Temple of Plot, but he figured that he could meet it when it actually became a threat. The bartender, who happened to be named Bart Ender, began making his drink, still eyeing him with a confused look. Spook just smiled in return. Finally, the bartender handed him a tall glass. The glass was made of a certain metal, the only kind that could hold Root, and, yet, it had a glassy sheen to it, so you could look inside. Spook narrated a few coins into existence onto the counter and took the drink, having a long sip, "Now, that's what I've been looking for." A few more platinum coins appeared on the counter. Bart grinned, taking the coins, "Anytime, sir, anytime..." Now, if only Spook could avoid adventure a little while longer...

"Are you, indeed, sure about that?" Micheal asked. In a flash of movement, he had his knife up against the adventurer's throat. "If you're lying..." Shadow put a hand on Micheal's shoulder, "Leave the entity alone..." Micheal shook off his hand.

Shadow made a sly smile, "Then, perhaps, you can tell me where I can find Moni. Or, if you would prefer, Moniker."

... I would usually say LotR, but I need to reread it again because Dune is taking the lead by a hair right now. Root or RootBeer?

"What about one that involves a mysterious threat to TLT?" Micheal asked. "What about a threat that split Subversion into ten people with different dispositions? What about a quest that involves something that can kill avatars and Narrators?" Micheal flipped his knife idly in his hands, a tense look on his face.

"We are looking to find the narrator Nameless and we were hoping you would be able to help us in this quest, you being one who has traveled enough to be called a brave adventurer," Shadow said, fingering the compass in his palm. "Remind me again, it was Subversion who supposedly ended the old Narrator? Or was it someone else, I was on another mission at the time and haven't looked back at the files yet."

BBQ Sprite or Rootbeer?

Marvel. Tho I'm fond of DC. District of Columbia or Washington?

Not that idiot.

"We need you for a quest," Shadow said calmly, "Would you like to join us?" Micheal looked befuddled.

Shadow fiddled with the device again, dragging the brave adventurer though space to the place right infront of him.

Not the insane Iadon 1: Shining Silver. 2: Important among the second class. 3: Their child is dead. 4: Death caused by someone without their father. 5: Their grandson killed the person without a father.