Chops-N-Hops, my home away from home. I go there whenever I'm in town to gain a sense of calm, to remember who I am. No one asks questions, no one really cares. You may not have ever seen this fine establishment on your many trips to Freeport. It's not exactly on the main thoroughfare. You've seen the Trader's Holiday on your way into town from the docks. Follow the alley towards the back and enter the lower commons. Never been there? I'm not surprised. Take a right at Hallard's Resales and follow the wall till you come to the dirtiest, most poverty-stricken area of tents, shops and beggars that you've ever seen. You can't miss it once you've gotten that far since it's one of the only full service establishments in the area. Just follow the sounds of drunken bliss until you find it.

The room was noisy and crowded the night I met the beautiful Khathryne. There had been only two fights that I could remember, a slow night for Chops. I was sitting in my corner of the room, a large pint of ale at my table. My corner is near the bar, across from the door. It's dark and usually secluded, populated most often by men whose actions and morals have driven them to drink their fears and worries away. These men don't ask questions, are not looking for trouble, and most often are only semi-conscious which is just fine with me. An old dwarf, old even by dwarven standards, was standing on a stool towards the middle of the room hollering about the "sad state of affairs" which had befallen Antonica. Another dwarf sitting behind him yelled, "Shut yer trap!" every time the old dwarf paused for a gulp of spirits. This is the kind of entertainment I enjoy most. I feel better about myself with every slurred word spoken in raised voices around the bar. You could say Chops is my form of therapy.

Around eleven o'clock the door opened and a stunningly tall high elf female in shining black armor stepped into the room followed by a fuzzy old gnome in bright clothing. I don't know if I've ever seen Chops get as silent as it did when this woman set foot into Chops. With undeniable grace and confidence the woman walked past the dirty tables and benches, pausing only to let people get out of her way. The gnome followed as best he could considering people didn't move an inch for the little guy, if they even noticed him at all. Her journey ended at a small square table, shrouded in darkness, in the opposite corner of the room. Three shapes already occupied the table, a dwarf and two small humans from what I could see. The five already knew each other and as the woman and the gnome sat down I could see that this was a quiet reunion of sorts. In stark contrast to woman and gnome, the other three were wearing faded brown robes and pulled down cowls. My interest was peaked.

Trouble came in the form of a half-orc, Rorg, a regular of the tavern, who was a gruesome mix of orc and man. His large muscular frame had an off-green hue, that, when combined with his large piggish nose, resembled a sow on stilts. A walking nightmare so to speak. He and any number of his cronies could usually be found drinking and causing trouble in the lower commons. On this night he was joined by Palatos Kynarn, a erudite enchanter who was perhaps the perfect opposite of Rorg in every respect except disposition. Palatos prided himself in his taste in fashion and high art. He was highly educated and a very powerful enchanter. He was also what I would call pure evil. The two hadn't taken their eyes off the attractive woman since she entered the tavern, and when she got up to grab a drink from the bar they decided it was time to introduce themselves. Palatos slid in beside her and started talking, his hand resting on her delicately armored shoulder. Clearly annoyed the female turned away from the erudite, drink in hand, but Rorg stepped out in front of her. "Where ya headed beautiful?" he asked roughly. "Care to join us at our table?" the erudite added. The high elf turned around, placed her mug on the bar, and then calmly turned back to face the strangers. Hands on her hips she turned her attention to Palatos and said, "I'd appreciate it if you'd let me return to my table." Palatos laughed. "After you've payed a visit to ours, sure," he replied smugly.

The gnome and two of his companions had already made their way to the bar. The third friend remained seated with his back to the wall. "Make way for my wife," the gnome said, "you've got no business with her." Rorg just burst out laughing. "Your wife!" he cried, "she'd do much better with someone of my…size," he remarked, turning to the high elf. "You'll make way for Khathryne now or you'll feel my axe on your hairy, green backside half-orc," a voice grunted. It was the dwarven companion who had moved up to Rorg, axe resting calmly on his shoulder. The other companion had also moved forward and removed her cowl revealing a stunningly beautiful wood-elf, scimitar at the ready. In any other bar the conversation would have ended at this point. The dwarf and wood-elf were obviously well versed in battle, the high-elf Khathryne was so calm that she apparently figured she could handle herself, and the gnome…well I learned a long time ago to never trust a gnome by his looks. He was undoubtedly a caster of some sort, probably very powerful. The most intriguing one to me though was the lone companion, still sitting against the wall, watching intently from under his hooded robe. This crew was imposing. But this was Rorg's home, his turf, and I'd never seen him back down from any challenge.

Without warning two men came rushing in from the far side of the room, swords raised. Three more jumped up from a nearby table. The dwarf launched himself at the first two, his axe cleaving the first man's upraised arm from his body. The wood-elf turned to greet the other three, killing one before he even reached his feet. Khathryne leaped to the side, jumped over a table, and came to rest immediately next to the hooded companion who had since risen. The gnome was nowhere to be found. Rorg rushed at Khathryne only to be intercepted by a large black sword that seemed to swallow the light from the room. I knew that sword, and the bluish hands that wielded it. This was Nalfein, the dark-elf shadow knight I'd encountered during Lord Crush's assassination. Rorg brought his sword up barely in time to block the deadly decent of the runeblade. He paused in confusion, a look of fear creeping into his eyes, as he realized he faced a dark-elf warrior.

Blades flashed and men screamed as the room broke into a sea of chaos. White fire consumed a man by the door as he struggled with the knob; the gnome had made his powers known. The axe-wielding dwarf finished off his second attacker quickly although blood poured down his face from a glancing blow. The lady Khathryne began to chant and the dwarf's wound started to disappear before my eyes. The wood-elf was a marvel to watch, her scimitar throwing off attacks and slicing through leather armor like it was paper. As far as I could tell she hadn't taken a single hit and her light brown hair seemed to glow in the dimly lit room. The gnome had cleared an entire section of the bar, the bodies of unconscious men lay strewn all around him. And incredibly, the knight Nalfein had cut down two men while still keeping Rorg at bay with his deadly blade, his eyes an unemotional swarm of blackness.

One piece of the puzzle was missing; Palatos. Scanning the room I finally found him hidden behind a stairwell. He had conjured an invisible warrior, equipped with sword and shield, and was giving the creature commands. Suddenly it raced forward straight for the lady Khathryne who was still kneeling beside the recovering dwarf. The dwarf saw the attack not a moment too soon and leapt up to intercept the strike intended for Khathryne's back. Axe clanged against sword as the creature and the proud dwarf exchanged blows and parries. Khathryne turned to help the furious dwarf and Palatos saw his chance. Waving his hands and mumbling arcane words he threw a stream of light at Khathryne which sent her body into small convulsions. Then she stopped, turned from the invisible warrior, and launched a vicious mace attack on her dwarven friend.

I had nothing to gain from either side. I didn't care much for Rorg and his motley crew, but I didn't have a very amiable relationship with the dark-elf either. Yet before I even realized what I was doing two daggers flew from my hands, imbedding themselves in the enchanter's chest. Blood spurted from the wounds as his hands tried in vain to remove my magical blades. These were my daggers of seeking which could not be removed until they found the victim's heart. The enchanter crumpled to the ground, a long tortured sigh rising from his bloodless, pale lips. The enchanted sword and shield clattered to the ground in a lifeless heap along with the exhausted, but relieved, Khathryne. By this time the wood-elf had disposed of, or scared away, all her attackers and rushed over to aid her fallen friend. The gnome too rushed over to check on his wife, concern covering his crinkled little face. I felt someone's gaze focused on me and turned to see Nalfein across the room, his eyes boring holes through my dark grey hood. Rorg's head was next to him on the table, his body lay sprawled on the bloody floor. We stood this way for a long time, studying each other's stoic faces in silence. "We thank ye for yer help good sir," the dwarf said from across the room, "my name is Xereos, leader of the Seekers of Lore." He then introduced Shahk, the gnome wizard, Felenya the wood-elf druid, and Khathryne. "And that is Nalfein," he said, indicating the shadow knight. I nodded. I've never been much for conversation, and seeing the group was in good shape, I retrieved my daggers and took my leave out the front door.

There was a chill in the night, but even so I felt a tingling on my neck not long after I'd left the chaotic bar. Spinning around I found the dark-elf Nalfein standing at the end of the dark alley I had turned down. His blade drawn he strode confidently down the shadowed passage, stopping only three feet away. "Curious that we'd meet again in such circumstances," he said in an eerily calm, raspy voice. Again I nodded. "You could have stayed out of the fight, could have even left the bar," he said, "but you stayed and fought. Why?" To be honest I didn't have a good answer. "Seemed like you needed some help," I answered, "Besides I had already bested you, I needed a different challenge." The coldness in his stare cut through the quiet, crisp air. Then he smiled, a brilliant white smile. "We're not finished yet my friend, we'll meet again and you can show me your skills." Then he handed me a sealed letter and made his way back down the alley. Pausing at the end, he turned and gave me one last piercing look, then turned the corner and was gone.

The letter was an invitation to the Seekers of Lore guildhall in North Freeport. It wasn't personalized, they didn't know my name anyway, but it was intriguing nonetheless. I'm not much for socialization, and I steer clear of guilds and other organizations, but something about the Seekers had peaked my interest. I paid a visit to the Seekers guild about one week later, uncharacteristically nervous, even vulnerable. Nalfein greeted me before I even got to the door; he'd been expecting me. The Seekers welcomed me in with open, sincere warmth and respect. I met privately with Xereos, Nalfein, and Khathryne for about three hours…and when I left the guildhall I was a Seeker.

Maybe this is a penance for my past deeds, maybe it's for the feeling of belonging or maybe a long forgotten and buried piece of my personality has been resurrected. Maybe I'm searching for a new salvation. I don't know. All I am sure of is that I'm still the same man, with the same skills, feelings, and abilities, but I have a home and a family…maybe a new conscience.