Dolwyn put another log on the fire back in town, stoking the embers until the log began to sizzle. He had a mind to retire to Ataraxia, buy a room right in town, hang up his cleric’s cloak, and take up being a fisherman. And why not? Sure beat the Khyber out of following the blasted elf monk around, throwing a heal here, a bless there just so the red head could kill all the undead she felt like.

He glanced over at the monk, her thin body wrapped in only in a thin blanket to keep out the cold sea wind. She was definitely not your usual elf, he reminded himself. She could flash out those little shuriken with incredible speed from just about any position, her accuracy unquestionable. She loved her Silver Bow, and made a practice out using it as her primary weapon. In a fight, the…