The Longbowman found himself accused with the theft of the Mithril Sword, and far worse things. He held his hands up high, as to assure the Company that he was not bent on any harm.
"Surely you do not think that I was responsible for all those horrid things?"
A voice was heard from the crowd.
"Well, we'll see your true colours soon enough." A spell was shouted, its words lost in the Illian wind. The Longbowman's form began to shimmer... he had evidently put a disguise spell on himself! When the effect of the mysterious spell had worn off, the Longbowman was no longer a Lanun. He had been a Svartalfar in disguise.
Quickly, he assessed the situation. He was cornered, unable to fool anyone still, and escaping was not an option - a bluff might work yet. He drew his bow, aimed for the Dragonslayer, and made his move.
"You know what I seek. Give the artifacts to me, and you will all get out of here alive. Fail to give them, and you will all die. You would not dare to bring the wrath of the Undercouncil upon you, no?"
"You and what army?" guffawed the Dragonslayer in response. The Longbowman looked awfully alone among a group of mercenaries.
"Fine, so be it." the Longbowman responded.
"Prepare to-"
The Longbowman dropped dead, an arrow protruding from his back. He had failed to account for the Sharpshooter, who had been the one to shoot him. The Sharpshooter walked over to the corpse, took his time to spit on his face, then grunted a
"only good Undercouncil is a dead Undercouncil" and walked away.
Another claimant to the reward had been exposed. What was it with this mission and the scum it brought with it? There had been nothing but trouble on the mission. Why had they taken it on in the first place if it gave that much trouble?
Again, the evening meal was a happy affair. The evil parties were dropping like flies. Surely they would succeed in their mission now?
It is now night! Daybreak in 37 hours (to compensate for me being late again 