Jito shivered in the dark wet alcove in which he crouched.
Tarin's blood dripped off his pack onto the ground beside
him, but he hardly noticed it. He was too busy scanning
the street front to see if they had managed to follow him,
though he doubted they could see through the illusionary
visage which he wore. An elven cleric of Torm could hardly
be mistaken for the squat gnomish individual he truly was.
He worried about the blood though, they could track him
with that. No choice then. He'd have to take the advice
of that beggar as truth. This very alcove would take him
through to the Undermountain where he could, if he was
lucky manage to find his way out to Skullport, the smugglers
den. He should be able to trade a potion or two to catch
a ship bound for Baldur's Gate or even Calimport ! As long
as he got out of here. Curse that fool Yegmod. If she
hadn't insisted that they try and expose the whole of the
Zentarim operation in the city then the other three would
still be alive. Did she not know how ruthless they were ?
If only they had not stumbled upon the temple of Bane in
the sewers. Of course Tarin said that the "dreadful curse
of this evil place must be lifted, lest it spread above and
corrupt all the people of this city"! Bloody paladins, they
don't know when enough is enough. Well having no head is
probably enough for him now. As he shook his head the image
of the elven cleric's head also shook the symbol of Torm on
it's chest swaying slightly. "I'm good at this," he thought
quietly to himself, letting the image that he created from
his phantasmal force scroll fade as well as the change self
leaving the wet, dripping gnome plainly visible. Don't want
to raise any of the suspicions of the dwellers of the
Undermountain. He turned and went through the archway holding
up the burnt out torch just like the beggar had said.