“Damn it! I looked at that map!” the paladin yelled. “How can we still be lost?”

Seamus awkwardly patted berserker that was snuggled up to him yet again. “Wasn’t he supposed to be getting better by now? It’s been days and he’s still-”

“Only two days, and he’ll be fine,” Ailbhe said. “He can put two words together now. That’s a definite improvement. What’s not an improvement is this next cave. Geeze, this thing couldn’t look any more generic if it tried.”

“I think we were supposed to turn left three caves back,” Seamus said. He turned sideways so that both he and Iain could fit through he narrow opening to the next chamber without the ‘serk having to let go of him.

The paladin face palmed. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“I didn’t realize it until just now. I’ve been little busy trying to take care of Iain,” the bard said. “Do you know how many times he’s almost walked into a demon trap, or tried to sniff at something dangerous?”

Ailbhe made a face. “Demon traps? What demon traps?”

“You’ve kind of been walking right through them,” the bard said. “I know it’s safe to walk behind you because you destroy everything you touch.” He paused. “That came out wrong.”

“Seamus, shut up,” Ailbhe said. She looked around the cavern they’d just entered. “Damn, dead end. Alright, let’s go back to that left you saw.”

“What about the treasure?” the bard asked.

“What treasure?”

“The demons had to be guarding something, didn’t they? Why else would they all be here?” he asked.

“Maybe they like it here,” the paladin said rolling her eyes. “Maybe the dank dark is good for their healthy. Heck maybe they have a timeshare. There’s no reason there has to be a treasure.”

“What’s in that chest there, then?” Seamus asked.

“What chest?”

“The one by the door.”

Ailbhe glared at him. “You really need to learn to a speak up sooner about these things.”

Closer inspection of the chest revealed a large, ornately decorated lock. The wood around it was covered in swirls and arcane symbols.

“These are the makings of a curse,” the bard said as he knelt beside the chest. “Only someone, uh I think this rune means qualified. Either that or it means pure of heart-”

“What? Those two meanings aren’t even remotely similar,” Ailbhe said.

“Only they can open this chest,” he continued, ignoring her. “Which means I should try to pick the lock.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Well if it means qualified, I’ve had a course on lock picking. And if not, well,” he glanced up at the paladin. “I’m just going to try and see.” He pulled two small, narrow pieces of metal from his belt pouch and inserted them into the lock.

After he’d fiddled with it for about a minute Ailbhe leaned in close. “Are you in yet?”

“Well no,” the bard said, “It’s got a lot of tumblers and it’s probably going to take me a little while.”

“Then we’re doing this my way,” she said.

“What?” he looked up just in time to see her sword coming down at him. With a yelp he dove to the side, but her sword hit its target. The chest burst into flames. “What’d you do that for?” he cried.

“Seemed like a good way to open the box to me,” she said, watching the flames crackle merrily.

“You just ruined any paper that might have been in there! Deeds, band notes, stocks, bonds-”

She stopped him with a look. “Holy fire burns cold.”

“But how can it be holy when,” he hesitated. “When you…”

“Do you really want to know?” she asked.

Something about her tone made him cringe. “No,” he said. “On second thought not really.”

“Good,” she said.

The chest was almost burned out and Ailbhe reached over to brush the soot off their prize. “A bag?” she murmured, picking it up. She turned it over in her hands and blew on it.

The resulting cloud made Seamus gag. Iain nuzzled him and whined in a worried way.

“Something written on here,” she said as she rubbed at the fabric ignoring them both. “The Coffee of Ma-, uh what’s that? Mako? No, more like Macho. The Coffee of Macho. Hey Seamus, have you ever heard of The Coffee of-” She glanced up and saw him petting the berserker. “Macho. Never mind.” She stashed the bag on her belt. “Let’s go you two.”

The three adventurers made their way back to where Seamus thought they should have turned left. Sure enough there was a tiny crevice in the rock and they were able to squeeze through. It was soon apparent they were headed in the right dirrection as the air became less fetid and more breathable. As a cool breeze whispered across their skin, they heard a familiar cry from behind them.

“Hey, wait up!”

The paladin turned. “There you are, Ciardhe,” she said. “I was starting to think the demons had-oh my god, what the hell is that?”

The healer glared at her. “What do you mean ‘what is that’? It’s a little girl.”

“You mean you spawned?” Seamus asked, goggling at what Ciardhe was holding hands with.

Ciardhe turned her glare at the bard. “Not unless I’ve been hiding her in my pocket for the last nine years.”

“Well you never know with demons,” Ailbhe said. “It could have crawled out of you after you and the demon king, you know.”

“How can you that about such a sweet little girl? She has such beautiful brown hair and the cutest clothes,” the healer gushed.

Ailbhe raised an eyebrow. “That,” she said. “Is not at all what I see. What you’ve got there is hell spawn.”

They all looked at the creature. It grinned back at them and giggled.

Some gorgeous handmade journals.

So I’ve been working on Christmas presents like crazy, mostly for people at work. While most people requested jewelry, there were two that wanted journals. One person wanted a coptic style binding while the other requested a traditional hard bound book. I think the hardest part of the whole thing was finding the right wood to use for the coptic journal covers.

I'm sure you notice there are two. The one on the right is a birthday present for a dear friend.

I ended up using something called luan for the covers of the coptic journals. A very thin wood veneer with fiber fill and sells in sheets the size of plywood. They had to cut it up into fourths just to fit it into my small car (and I learned that yes, my back seats DO fold down). I didn’t even use half of one of those fourths making these covers. They stained very well and if I didn’t know better, I’d have said they were a solid piece. There are some small imperfections and in the future I will have to invest in some wood putty before I make another, but these look just fine the way they are.

This one was actually harder to make.

The traditionally bound journal I made took slightly less time than the coptic journals because I wasn’t waiting for multiple layers of stain and polyurethane to dry, just glue. On the other hand it did involve multiple layers of glue and paper glued to the spine for reasons I never quite understood, but which will hopefully make the journal sturdy and long lasting.

I realized too late the camera focused on the carpet and not the book.

I really like how these all turned out. The only down side is that now I have a bunch of extra materials left and I’m not planning on making more for Christmas presents. I was thinking, though. If anyone was interested, I could make some for your Christmas presents. Got someone on your list you think would want a journal? Let me know if anyone is interested. At this point I’m just trying to cover the costs of my materials (and get rid of a little of the excess).

If you’re interested you can reply here or message me on twitter, I’m @LadyKuro there as well.

“Yours,” Iain said. He continued to stab his two demons with his spear.

“Right. Remind me to kill whoever gave us this mission when we get back,” she said as she finally stabbed the demon. White flames erupted from the wound and engulfed the twisted creature.

“Still can’t believe it,” Iain muttered and punched a smaller demon in the face.

“What’s that?” Ailbhe called.

He bashed a demon in the back of the head with the pole end of his spear. “I can’t believe you still have a paladin’s powers,” he growled.

“You’d better be frigging glad I do,” she said as she sliced a demon’s shoulder. “It’s hard to cover your ass and protect Seamus too.”

“It was you’re idea to bring him,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I thought he might be marginally more useful than Ciardhe. How was I supposed to know she’d tie up demons with an orgy and he’d hide in the corner?”

“Well he’s a bard for one,” Iain said. They were almost out of demons. Just a couple more and they could move on to the next area.

“Yeah, and Ciardhe’s a healer, but you don’t see her-” There was a pause. “Shit…”

Iain looked over just in time to see the paladin fall back into a deep pool of water. The demon she’d been fighting screamed as her blood ate away at him like acid.

“Do you always have to have such dramatic fights?” He muttered as he stabbed the demon and went to help his friend.

Ailbhe coughed as he pulled her out. “It’s not that bad,” she said, her hand pressed tightly against her side.

“Let me see,” the berserker said, tugging her hand away. Though not life threatening, there was a lot of blood. “I’ve got enough in me for a mid-level healing spell.”

“You need that more than I do,” she said. She swiped blood off his cheek with a finger; he hissed.

“Shut up and hold still,” he said. He cast the spell; the wound stopped bleeding, but would probably require stitches.

“Okay, now you go wash off and I’ll heal your worst wounds,” she said. “Gotta be able to see where you’re hurt.”

“Fine,” he said and slunk into the pool of water to clean himself off.

The paladin approached Seamus, then, holding out her hands like she would to a skittish dog. “Hey, you’re alright,” she said. “We got ‘em. They’re all dead.” She helped him to his feet.

“There are more coming,” he said, eyes wide.

“Are there?” She turned to look. Sure enough several demons emerged from the tunnel to the next section. “Shit.” She pushed the bard towards the water. “Go play with Iain. I’ll deal with the demons.”

Seamus stumbled towards the water as she drew her sword and walked back into battle. A few more demons emerged from the tunnel.

“You need help?” Iain called.

“Nah, there aren’t that many,” she said. Her sword went ‘snicker-snack’ and the demons went “woosh” as they burst into flames. For several moments it looked like she would hold her own, even as more demons arrived. Then one snuck around behind her and knocked her off balance, giving the rest a chance to mob her.

“Sonova-” Iain surged out of the water. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end so that it looked like bristles and his eyes became bloodshot. He growled and lunged at the nearest demon.

It only took him moments to beat his way through the hoard covering the paladin. The wound on her side had reopened and she had a large gash on one of her arms. Iain grabbed her and dragged her away. Then the king of demons came through the tunnel.

He was tall and skinny and looked for all the world like an androgynous, mildly anorexic, tween. Iain growled at him.

“You made it pretty far,” the hideous creature said. “But you forgot your prequest instruction. ‘Keep pressing forward, don’t stop for anything’.”

“Why the hell is a monster lecturing us?” Ailbhe asked as she struggled upright.

Iain grunted and crouched, glaring at the demon. The paladin grabbed him before he could lunge.

“Hold it,” she said. “You’re in no condition to fight.”

“Oh do let him. At least then he’ll die in battle,” the demon king said.

Ailbhe tried to keep hold of her friend, but he elbowed her off and lunged at the underfed creature of undetermined gender. The demon king swatted him away with one overpowered blow. The berserker bounced once before landing on all fours and lunging again. The demon side stepped.

“You know what I love about ‘serks?” he asked as he batted Iain away again. “They’re so predictable.” His next toss landed the berserker in the water. Iain came up coughing moments later, his hair limp and his eyes no long red.

“And now for you, my dear,” the demon king said to the paladin. “Come here, I’ll make this quick.”

As he reached for Ailbhe, though, a voice rang out from the shadows. “Aha! There you are. Thought you could get away from me, did you?”

Ailbhe and the demon king turned to see Ciardhe emerge from one of the tunnels. The demon blanched.

“Come here, darling,” the healer said. “Let me love you.”

The demon king turned tail and ran. Ciardhe followed close behind, calling for him to come back.

Ailbhe groaned and rolled over onto her stomach to crawl to the water. Iain was still in there with Seamus, hugging the bard tightly.

“Let go of him, Iain! Or at least let him come up for air.”

Of course the berserker did no such thing.

NARNIA
The month started and ended with snow. We were all set to have a late peak for fall foliage as September ended. This would have been very good for us financially speaking as there would have been a lot more bookings at the end of October (people like dying leaves, what can I say?). Unfortunately at the very beginning of October there was a very cold snap and one morning our guests woke up to about a quarter inch of snow on the ground. Rather unusual and it set the colors forward by about two weeks. Fast forward to the end of the month. Last Friday (Oct 29) it started to snow. It started around 3 and by the time I asked to leave early at around 9 there were already a couple inches on the ground. I drove home at about 15 mph and still managed to slide my front wheels and do a 180. I have come to the conclusion that I hate driving in Narnia.

LEAFERS
October is the busiest month of the year where I work for one reason: dying leaves. People come from hundreds of miles away to see our fall foliage. I’m sure other people know about leaf peepers, those nuts that come out once a year to look at leaves, experience nature, and drive infuriatingly slowly. Once a year they and their special breed of madness descend upon us. People actually book a year ad a half in advance for some of our rooms. Then of course there are the people that booked the cheapest rooms we sell two days before and pitch a fit when they get here because they don’t have a world class view of the valley. Yes, the leafers are a special breed, and not necessarily in a good way (we have people now in November upset that all the foliage is gone. I keep explaining nine inches of snow will do that).

NATURAL SELECTION
Even among the leaf peepers there are those people you would swear are just too stupid to live. This October we had one fire and one almost fire. The fire occurred on a Monday night in one of our suites. A couple was cold (or perhaps just really liked fire) and built themselves a roaring blaze in the fire place. In the middle of the night their neighbor came to complain. The night auditor (the only staff member on duty) could see flames shooting out of the chimney we she stepped outside to look. It took two fire extinguishers to put out the twelve logs they’d stuffed into the fire place. They fire department still had to come to put out the chimney. And they worst part of all of this? The neighbor kept blocking everyone’s way because they weren’t done complaining.

About a week later the second incident involving fire happened. We were hosting a wedding and some of the drunker guess decided that it would be a wonderful, romantic gesture to set off luminaries. They’re kind of like miniature, candle powered hot air balloons. Apparently our guests did not realize that ‘fire + dead leaves’ does not equal ‘romantic’, but does equal ‘flaming inferno of death’. Thankfully the park service was able to retrieve the luminaries before this unfortunate scenario occurred.

People ask me how I like my job, and most of the time I can say I like it well enough. Then there are the nights when I thank god some idiot hasn’t managed to kill us all.

Remember, the more you work with the public, the more you realize how many morons there are.

I’ve worn my class ring since the day I got it. In fact, I wore it up until Sunday October 9th of this year. On that Sunday I am 90% sure I wore my ring to work. At some point during the night, however, I realized it was not on my finger. I have searched everywhere I can think to search with no luck. This is a last desperate attempt-if someone found my ring and searches the internet for me, I really, really would like it back!

The ring is fairly small and silver in color. It has no stone instead the crest of William and Mary is on the band. My name is engraved on the inside. It probably would have been found somewhere on the grounds of Skyland (where I work). If you’ve seen it, please, please contact me, either here on my blog or on my facebook page. If you for some reason wish to be anonymous, you can mail it to my place of work:

Attn: Skyland Front Desk; Kelly Stiles
PO Box 727
Luray, VA 22835

What To Do if You Find a Class Ring:
First, look for identifying features. For instance in my ring (and on many others) the name is engraved inside. In some older rings only the initials might be engraved. If you are able to find the name, their school and the date they graduated, you actually have a lot of information. Use that on Facebook and Google searches. You’ll probably find the ring’s owner. On the off chance that your search turns up nothing, contact Jostens. They provide most class rings and can help track down owners. They even have a lost and found section for the really tough cases.

If anyone finds my ring, I am offering a reward. $50 and a batch of homemade cookies (which is about all I can afford).

The innkeeper stared at them incredulously. “Are there not two females in your party?” he asked.

“There are, but Ciardhe prefers to sleep elsewhere,” the paladin said. She smiled at the innkeeper.

The man finally shrugged and gave them the key to one of his rooms. As they walked down the long hallway of the one level building, Iain turned to her.

“Maybe we should get another room now that Seamus is with us,” he said. “The floor can’t be comfortable for that long.”

“Uh, I prefer not to share the same bed as other people,” Seamus volunteered. “I don’t like the floor, but no offense I’d rather not sleep with either of you.”

Ailbhe laughed. “If it was in the budget I’d say we could get him his own room. With the way Ciardhe’s been spending money, though, we’re going to be lucky if we can afford even one room in the next town.”

Seamus frowned as he arranged some extra blankets into a little nest. “Why do you all keep giving her money if you know she’s going to waste all of it?”

“Because it’s easier than listening to her whine abut how unfair life is,” Iain said. “Want one of the pillows too?”

After they got their bedding situated Ailbhe went to ask if there were any local quests and Seamus went to see if he could earn a little money from his storytelling (that was what would be paying for their dinner). Iain, who had lost to the paladin at paper, rock, scissors, went to find their missing healer.

Ciardhe wasn’t really that hard to find. She usually frequented any herb shops or apothecaries a town might boast. There she would buy up the rarest (and invariably the most useless) herbs the shops had in stock. Of course, if they had any copulation aides, she would buy all they had in stock. Produce stands were usually put on watch afterwards.

Iain found her looking at a zucchini with keen interest. “Hey,” he said, eyeing the vegetable with distrust.

“Iain!” she exclaimed, putting it down. “Just the person I wanted to see! I need you for something.”

The hairs on the back of the berserker’s neck stood up as she grabbed his hand and dragged him towards one of the shops.

Clothes shopping. Not only had she take him clothes shopping, but she was relying on his fashion advice. There’s something wrong about relying on a ‘serk for advice on clothing. Iain looked down at what he was wearing. Something very wrong indeed. And yet what he picked out for her was ten, no one hundred times better then the things she picked out for herself.

“Iain, you should come with me tonight,” the healer said while getting dressed.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I promised I’d uh..help Ailbhe work with Seamus on one of his characters. We’re staging an intervention.”

“Aw, come on…” the healer whined, sticking her head out of the changing area.

“Ask me again when you’re dressed,” Iain said, looking away.

When they were done and Ciardhe decently clothed, Iain headed back to the inn where they were staying, much to the healer’s dismay. Later that evening (after the character intervention), the three sedate party members sat around a small table at the inn eating boiled vegetables.

“God I want meat,” Iain said, pushing the food around with a fork.

“Just eat,” the paladin said. “Veggies are good for you. Besides I found a small side quest for us. We’ll have meat tomorrow night.”

The berserker grumbled and pushed the food around on his plate more.

That’s how the warrior found them. “Hey!” he said slapping his hands against their table hard enough to make the silverware jump. “Ciary says you all got money.”

Ailbhe rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose; the man stank of alcohol. “We’re eating boiled vegetables. How much money do you think we have?”

“Shut up, bitch,” he slurred, grabbing at her hair. “Gimme the money.”

Both men stood and Iain lunged across the table. While he was busy with the berserker, the paladin stabbed her attacker’s arm with a fork. The man yelped and released her. Iain hauled him into the air, growling.

“Don’t kill him!” Seamus yelled.

Iain blinked and looked confused for a moment before throwing the blubbering man to the ground. “Get out of here,” he growled.

“But, but Ciary, she says she needs money,” the man stuttered.

Ailbhe grabbed him by the collar. “And she told you to go get it from us?”

He shook his head. “No, but I thought-”

The paladin dropped the man back to the floor. “You’re a moron,” she said. “And now I have to fix my hair.”

Iain eyed the fallen man intently. “I’d leave now if I were you,” he said.

The warrior took his advice and scuttled away-right into the burly arms of the innkeeper, who was none too pleased with a stranger upsetting his patrons.

“Good Lord,” Ailbhe said as Seamus tried to salvage their mostly spilt dinner. “The only way there could be more drama is if she lived with a gay ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t wipe you’re eyes or you’ll go blind,” the paladin warned. It was probably the first real warning she’d given Ciardhe.

Iain remained quiet, though he occasionally face palmed as the healer wondered yet again how this could have happened.

As they got to the bridge that crossed that stream that marked the edge of town Ailbhe turned in her saddle to look at the red, puffy faced healer. “Why don’t you stay here while Iain and I go find someone to help you with that rash.”

“No, no, I know exactly what to do, I just need you two to show me to an herb shop,” Ciardhe said.

Iain and Ailbhe looked at one another.

“No, you stay here. As amusing as it would be to see you try to cure yourself, I don’t want to have to pay for your hospital visit,” Iain said.

“And I’m not paying for it,” the paladin added.

“But-”

“No buts,” the berserker growled. “Now stay here. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

They left the still gibbering (and madly scratching) healer and headed into the town. It wasn’t a large town, barely big enough to warrant its own priestess. There was a small stage set up nearby, little more than a cloth covered table, upon which a bard told a story. The paladin and the berserker ignored him and the small crowd he had in favor of finding the priestess. In truth she found them.

“Sister paladin,” said a voice from behind them. “I sense that you seek my help.”

They turned to see an unattractive woman in a rather unattractive white dress.

“Yeah, we were, actually,” Ailbhe said.

“You seek to have your companion shriven, do you not?”

The two party members looked at one another.

“What?” the paladin asked, baffled.

“The berserker beside you. Have you not come so that he can make right with the Throne? Go to paradise when he dies?” She gestured grandly at nothing.

“Uh, no,” Ailbhe said as her companion face palmed. “The ‘serk is fine. We’re here because our healer is covered in poison ivy and we’d rather she didn’t poison herself while trying to cure the rash.”

The priestess pressed her palms together and bowed her head. “I sense an ill soul,” she said. “There is much work to be done. Wait here whilst I pray and gather my materials.” With that she turned and entered the temple.

The two companions turned too look at one another.

“You’re not going to wait for her, are you?” the paladin asked.

“Hell no,” Ian said. “I’d rather rub myself down with poison ivy.”

Ailbhe turned to go. “Good. Let’s go find the town herbalist. We can do this ourselves.”

They had only taken a few steps when they heard the voice behind them. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

They walked faster. Ailbhe grabbed Iain’s hand and dragging him into the small crowd.

“Hey! I know you heard me. Don’t ignore people, that’s rude.”

They stopped next to the stage. “I’m sorry, the position of healer to the healer has already been filled by uh,” the paladin looked around then grabbed the closest person-the bard on the stage. “By this guy.”

“Wha?” the man in question seemed confused.

“Did you just kidnap a bard?” Iain asked.

“Hold, foul villain!” the priestess cried. “I shall not let thee get away with assaulting and detaining an innocent man!” She lunged towards Ailbhe.

The paladin stopped her with a hand to her forehead, holding her back. “Woah. I haven’t kidnapped anyone. I’ve already talked this over with, uh…” She looked the bard up and down. “What was you name again?”

“Seamus?” he said.

“Right. I’ve talked this over with Seamus and he agreed to come help with the poison ivy rash. Didn’t you, Seamus?” she said turning to the bard. She glared at him, her eyes daring him to say differently.

“Well, I guess if it’s only poison ivy-”

“Preposterous!” the priestess said. “He is a bard, not a healer. What can he know of such holy work? I must insist you take me or another healer.”

“Our healer is more likely to poison someone than heal them,” Iain said. “He couldn’t do much worse.”

The priestess turned a funny color. “No, he can’t go. I won’t let him.” There was a petulant whine in her voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Maybe she could come too,” Seamus suggested.”

“Not a chance,” Ailbhe said. Her grip on him tightened. “We already have one idiot in the group and we don’t need another.”

“No, I’m coming too,” the priestess whined, attaching herself firmly to Iain’s arm.

He looked at her, unable to hide his distaste.

“You wouldn’t last a day out in the real world, hon,” Ailbhe said. “Hell, you probably wouldn’t be able to survive the crickets.”

“Crickets?” she squeaked.

“Yes. And I swear, if you come with us, you will wake up in the morning with one tied to every strand of hair on your head,” Ailbhe said.

The priestess shrank against Iain’s arm. “You wouldn’t.”

Ailbhe smiled. “Paladins don’t lie.”

The priestess raised a cloud of dust in her haste to get away.

When she was gone, the two men turned to her.

“Didn’t you lie when you told her you’d talked it over with me?” Seamus asked.

“There’s no way in hell you can keep getting away with this crap,” Iain said, folding his arms.

Ailbhe shrugged and smiled. “What can I say? My god loves me.”

Then, this morning, my father went to clean the cat’s litter box and found the floor covered in blue liquid. After a search, it was discovered to be coming out of the white metal cabinet where we keep out cleaning supplies. To make long story short, a full container of floor cleaner leaked it’s contents all over everything. This does mean out laundry room floor is very clean. Great, I know.

And before I forget, I want to wish my parents a happy anniversary, though I think it might be a little late. Yes, their anniversary was today. My mom told my dad he really knows how to make the day memorable, but if they have too many more like this, she doesn’t think she’s going to make it.

Remember, memorable doesn’t always mean something you want to remember.

“A berserker, a healer and a paladin walk into a bar. It sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke,” Iain mumbled into his drink. “The worst part is that the healer’s the only one getting drunk.”

“You guys should drink too!” Ciardhe cried, hoisting another pint and downing it.

Ailbhe rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t be so bad if the ‘serk weren’t a teetotaler.”

“Or if the healer could actually heal people,” Iain said. “Why is it that I always end up tending up my own wounds?”

“Because I’m too busy healing myself, and you’d bleed out before I got to you,” Ailbhe replied.

Beside them, Ciardhe made a pass at the bartender. At least they thought it was meant for the bar tender, it could just as easily have been meant for the serving girl beside him. Not that Ciardhe would have complained if either had responded: she had a habit of going after both genders.

“Let’s go upstairs before the healer starts a fight,” Ailbhe suggested.

“Ciardhe should have been a bard,” Iain said as he stood.

“Does she have enough charisma for that?” the paladin asked.

They both looked at their overweight friend. “I think it’d take a lot of charisma to get as many people in bed as she does,” the ‘serk said.

“True,” Ailbe said. “So remind me again why Ciardhe isn’t a bard.”

They climbed up the rickety staircase to the inn portion of the establishment. Just as they reached the top they heard Ciardhe make a pass at someone at the top of her lungs.

“And so begins another night of debauchery,” Iain said.

“At least on the bright side we were planning to leave tomorrow anyways,” his companion said as she unlocked the door to their room.

Early on Ailbhe had given up on sleeping in the same room as the healer. More recently they’d given up on getting her a room at all-it was rarely used, and when it was, it was only for sex.

“Tell me again how you can sleep in the same bed as me and not lose you’re paladin status,” Iain said as Ailbhe flopped onto the bed.

“Because,” she said as she burrowed under the covers, “I have not had the intention of having sex with you. You have to remember, it’s all about intentions.”

“Right, intentions,” he said, slipping beside her. They fell asleep to the sound of drunken singing.

The next morning they found Ciardhe sleeping under a table. Apparently she hadn’t even gotten up to the room of whoever she’d been with. Oddly enough there was a cricket on her nose.

“Hey,” Iain nudged her with a toe. “Time to get up.”

The healer twitched and mumbled incomprehensibly.

“You’ve got a cricket on your face,” Ailbhe said without looking up from the bowl of porage the innkeeper had given her.

Ciardhe sat up with a shriek and whacked her head on the underside of the table.

“Good morning,” Iain said from his own bowl of breakfast.

“Is it gone? Is it gone?!” Ciardhe asked, smacking herself in the face repeatedly.

Ailbhe glanced over. “Nope, in your hair now.”

The Healer shrieked again and started clawing at her scalp.

Iain glanced from the paladin to the cricket mad healer. “It’s gone now,” he said. “You can stop.”

“Is it really?” she asked, tears in her eyes.

“Yes, now come up here and drink some water so we don’t have to hear about your hangover all day,” the paladin said.

After paying Ciardhe’s rather hefty tab they headed out. Iain and Ailbhe each rode on fine war horses. Ciardhe rode a donkey. The going was slow as the healer moaned about her aching head if they went too quickly. She also needed frequent pit stops to pee. “Better hurry up,” Ailbhe yelled to her on the seventeenth stop. “I think I just saw a cricket go in after you.”

Beside her Iain rolled his eyes.

“You did not,” the healer yelled back. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

“No, I really did,” the paladin called. “But there are some cricket repelling herbs out here you could use to keep it away.”

A hand appeared from the underbrush and groped along the ground.

“A little to the left, a little more, there, that’s it.” Ailbhe grinned as the healer’s hand closed over the tri-leaved plant.

“What do I do with it?” Cirdhe asked.

“Just rub it all over yourself, but not here. Move farther away so we don’t see you when you take you clothing off to rub there too.”

Iain waited until the rustling in the underbrush had moved farther away then turned to Ailbhe. “That was poison ivy.”

“Yup,” she said.

“How are you still a paladin? I mean I’m not saying she didn’t deserve it, but still, you just told her to rub poison ivy all over herself. How can you still call yourself a paladin?”

“I occasionally give to orphans,” she said.

“Poison ivy.”

“I help support an orphanage.”

“You told her to take her clothes off.”

“I run a charitable organization for orphans.”

“Poison. Ivy.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Whatever.”

This photo appeared on the bulliten board a few days after the dinosaur dissapeared.

We tried to figure out who’s house that was. I’m not sure if you can see it, but there’s a tire swing hanging from the tree. I talked with some of the guys who work with us and they IDed the shoe as a basketball shoe. This is interesting since only one person in the office plays basketball: my supervisor-the one who I was originally giving the dinosaur to.

Then I talked with another of the front desk agents (we’ll call her Twilight for sake of anonymity) and she told me an interesting story: she’d found the dinosaur and given it to my supervisor.

As near as I can figure, this is what happened. After I left the dinosaur, someone hid it and left a ransom note. Twilight found said dinosaur and handed it over to my supervisor. My supervisor then took it home and took it’s picture, all the while denying that she’d even seen it. By the way, the shoes don’t belong to her, they belong to her girlfriend’s son.

Yeah, just another day at the office.

Remember, always know who wears what type of shoes at your office. Especially when there’s a mystery to solve.