"Give me some tiid first. I will let you know when I can hear it. In the meantime...you have delved into a sewer. I think you know what to do next."

"Yeah, wash"

*It goes silent*

Mirkrilaar

"North of Satakalaam. Far north. That's as far as I know. Good luck."

Perlos (my char's name, should have mentioned it earlier) walks to Satakalaam. Upon coming withing view of the town, he realizes it's a port town, with the Abecean Sea directly north of the city limits. Perlos, quite irritated, talks to the claw again.

"Alright Mirkrilaar, if this is some kind of trick, I don't appreciate it. Do you mean to tell me my ancestor hid one of your bones at the bottom of the sea?"

"No. There is land north of the city. You are looking northwest."

(We must not be looking at the same map)

(No land north of Satakalaam)

(The area west of the blue arrow. The town southwest of the arrow is Satakalaam.)

(All right then)

Perlos checks his compass. It's stuck. He hits it against his helmet, and it loosens up.

"That sand gets everywhere, and it ruins everything. Okay, so north is..."

He sees what looks like the entrence to a crypt off in the distance.

"Of course. I'm guessing it's in there?"

"Geh. It should be in there. I sense it."

Mirkrilaar

"Geh. It should be in there. I sense it."

"Guarded by something evil, undead, and possibly several times my size?"

"Krosis. I do not know what your grandfather has in store for you inside."

'Where is that voice coming from?' Somwhere near Satakalaam . . .

He appeared there in a flash of light. Now where exactly is that voice . . .

(I just opened up the hobbit and picked the first name I saw)

Meanwhile, Elrond picks his supplies; (dried foods, coin, his grandfather's diary, some soul gems, and several unidentified artifacts of dwemer origin including a centurian core.) And dons the cloak over his green peasent clothes. He puts on a pair of fur boots and gloves, and sheaths his dwarven dagger. The dagger was given to him long ago.

"Remember me when you look at this. It is a dwarven dagger, made long ago by an ancient people. Then much after they had died, I came to posses it. And now I pass it on to you, perhaps it's enchantments will bring you good luck?"

As he remembered a tear began to roll down his eyes, the dagger shimmering. He remembered his grandfather, the days he spent trying to explain to him why one word was not the other, why grears did hat they did. Right before he left out the door, he decided to get one last object. It was a staff, his personal favorite as a child. It was made of pine wood, and had a three golden rings at the end, topped with an ornate blue crystal. He learned to cast a few spells with it but never mastered the tool. He would have to practice using it again. Perhaps the old man had written something useful on staffs in his tome?

Singh1699

'Where is that voice coming from?' Somwhere near Satakalaam . . .

He appeared there in a flash of light. Now where exactly is that voice . . .

*You hear it north north west of your location*

"Mirkrilaar, I am washed and ready, where is the next bone?"