'War Scribe is dead!?!' thought Dwan to herself as she looked in total disbelief at Ral. The Ex-Gladiator never considered the possiblity that the crafty, death-obsessed Dark Elf Chronicler would herself actually end up dead. It really didn't strike home with her until they continued onward and saw War Scribe's body stretched out on the ground with a large dagger sticking out of her chest. As Dawn dismounted and went over to the side of the Dark Elf to check and be sure of the Chronicler's demise, Ral continued to play the bounty hunter charade with the Yarfellian guards.
"Well, that's her!" said the Monk definitively to the soldiers accompanying them, "That's our thief! Dead as a doorknob, no doubt about it! Fortunately the bounty on her head was 'Dead or alive'! We preferred to take her alive, but dead's just as good!"
"You guys need any help?" asked one of the Yarfellian soldiers.
"Nope!" replied Ral matter-of-factly, "We can take it from here! We're sorry if that Drow caused you any trouble, but look on the bright side, she won't be causing any trouble for anybody ever again!"
The soldiers just nodded and rode off, inwardly shaking their heads at all that had just transpired.
After they were out of earshot, Dawn asked, "What are we going to do, Ral?"
Dismounting from his steed; The Monk removed the dagger from War Scribe's chest and hoisted the limp form of the Drow Chronicler over his shoulder saying, "Simple, we take her back to the rest of the guys and tell them what happened. At the very least, they'll be able to provide her with a decent funeral. Which is a heck of a lot better than what she would get if we left her out here! So let's go, we're burning daylight!"
