[damien the 3rd]

as Yllidan and Ambron walked to the house, Malsar frowned harshly at the pair from his tiny cottage. The ancient, yet relativly weak, lich had been disturbed by the recent events, especcially those his scrying spells had revealed as followers of Mask. He got up from his stool and put on his deep red robes, a symbol of his Red Wizard status and began limping towards the direction of the halfling and dwarf. Though he was in fine condition for his age, but he keeps the image of an elderly old peddler who sold simple potions so he grabbed his staff and followed at a distance he was comfortable with and stared harshly as he moved. He kept a scrying spell at his ready in case he heard any noise. That half-elf with the katana was strange in more than just his actions and his divinations had not in the slightest way revealed anything about him, something he hated more than anything. It made him feel so insecure and weak, something few Red Wizards liked to think. He would have to use more Mundane methods to find about him.

As Malsar followed the two, he felt a snag on his long robe. he looked down and saw a dagger grabbing his robe. Growling, he picked up the dagger and moved to throw it away, but he saw a dark glint that gave off the image of dark light. he moved to examine it and saw the word "Half-Elf" imprinted in blood red letters near the tip. For reasons he did not know, and wished to find out, the words were glowing and giving an angry whispers in his undead mind. He felt a dark shadow go for his face and he threw the dagger down into a bowl. He threw down his mundane staff and pulled out what appeared to be an old, withered stick but the slightest blow would cause plague within the recipitent of its dire blows. Hew knew that this half-elf had earned some powerful enemies, and had just gained a powerful ally, himself.

"Enough of this worthless charade," he snarled to himself. " Let's see what this old dwarf knows that i Can't decipher