Riiight. Took a bit lnoger to write this than i'd expected, just like with any true fanfiction. 
Teehee.
Anyway, thanks again to Kellen for helping with the polish here.
Ack, still, i am hurrying a bit, ebarrassed by the unexpected delay; the last part has yet to go through proofreading, i've worked with it as well as i could though.
Comments welcome as always. 
Borderline Sanity ? Chapter 1, Personal Bhaal
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Don't Talk To Strangers
Cause the're only there to do you harm
Don't write in starlight
Cause the words may come out real
Don't hide in doorways
You may find the key that opens up your soul
Don't go to heaven cause it's really only hell
Don't smell the flowers
They're an evil drug to make you lose your mind
Don't dream of women
'Cause they'll only bring you down
Hey you, you know me You've touched me, but I'm real
I'm forever the one who lets you look and see
Can You feel me? I'm danger- I'm a stranger
And I
I'm darkness I'm anger I'm pain
I am the master
The evil song you sing inside your brain, drive you insane
Don't talk
Don't let them inside your mind yeah
Run away Run away goooo
Don't let them in your mind , touch your soul
-Dio, ?Don't Talk To Strangers?
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Candlekeep?Okarik eyed the stone walls rising all around the library keep.
At first everything seemed to be in order, but as he turned his thoughts inward he began noticing oddities; he could not focus on visual details, but could identify anything.
In places the dreamscape gave way to a cold and distant star-filled sky, and elsewhere it demonstrated other bizarre distortions and familiar objects well placed out of place.
Behind the gates of the outer wall stood Imoen waving her hand in a cheerful greeting.
?Heya!?
Okarik strode over to the gates and leaned on the portcullis to take a closer look at her. She appeared to be quite the spitting image of his sister, and excepting a strange tattoo of a chain circling her neck she exhibited no noticeable anomalies.
Finishing his observations Okarik said dryly ?Evening to you too, phantasm.?
?Aww... You're being mean...? She made a pouting face, then turned back to cheerfulness. ?It's been such a long time since we met! We're going to have so much fun! Now get that gate open so we can get started!?
Okarik raised an eyebrow ?Get started with what??
?Blowing things up!?
Okarik looked around and said indifferently, ?Well, it doesn't seem like i'd have much else to do here... so how do i get this gate up??
Imoen's eyes lit up ?Oooh! Maybe you'd like me to help you with it... ??
Okarik shrugged, and Imoen set herself to the task; pushing the heavy metal-grid aside with her little finger. She made a playfully mocking face, and gestured for Okarik to follow.
They walked along the familiar road leading away from the keep, until Imoen spotted a trail leading into what should have been a forest; the uprooted trunks stuck out of the ground with their roots reaching for the dark sky.
Imoen turned around with an amused expression on her face ?You never cared that much for trees... or nature...?, she turned back to look at the far out display ?I did, but you listened so rarely...?.
Okarik stared at her blankly. ?I don't see anything exploding here.?
She laughed. ?Explosions, one of the few things I ever got you intrested in! Heh. Come.?
They ventured into the woods, carefully avoiding the deep, dark, star-filled puddles spread about here and there, and soon they found themselves standing on the edge of a forest clearing.
Okarik halted, but Imoen walked on, spun around in the middle of the opening with her hands in the air and went on walking backwards towards a handful of granite statues standing in neat lines on the other side, she appeared quite excited.
?How do you like them? Aren't they nice? I made them myself!? She paused for a moment to grin widely.
Okarik scanned the statues quickly, dead people all of them.
Gorion's granite likeness held a place at the front row, but it looked somehow different, the statue stood tall and heroic as any great hero but without losing any of the sage's kindness and warmth.
Okarik glanced through the other statues, but they appeared more as he remembered them, if maybe still somehow overly heroic. ?You've taken too much artistic liberty there. Gorion was wise, but worried, he was certainly tall, but like any old wizard, he rarely bothered standing with his back straight. And the others are over glorified also.?
Imoen replied ponderously, ?So that is why you tried to kill me here...?
?I never tried to kill Imoen, even less here. Now keep your tongue in check, or I swear I'll wake...? The image of Imoen in front of him stood frozen as petrification spread up from the ground, and quickly enveloped the image altogether.
HMMMM... Most unusual.Okarik quickly closed his eyes and scoured the arse-upwards forest for any foreign mental presence, but could find none, but he could hear something.
?Look at them, my child.?
Okarik turned around slowly to face the all too familiar looking source of the voice. Behind him, a little distance away in the forest stood a tall humanoid male leaning on a tree trunk, gesturing at the statues.
His taste in leathers had not improved, and he still wore the ugly patchwork leather-mask he had worn back at the dungeon.
Keeping his voice calm and icy Okarik said ?You wear the wrong face to speak those words.?
The image took a step closer and spoke with a hint of amusement in it's voice, ?Maybe. But it's the only face you thought suitable for me. A pity, I prefer to look handsome.?
?So you are not who you look like.? Okarik adjusted his position to once more face the approaching stranger directly.
The image made an artificial-looking serious face, and spoke in a low-pitched booming voice ?Okarik, I am your father!?, then turned to look ponderously at the dark sky above.
?Or maybe not quite, strike that?, the image bowed low in a smarmy manner ?Spark of Bhaal, at your service, dear spawn.?
Okarik eyed the self-proclaimed piece of the divine carefully ?Terrific, Sparko. You're behind this dream then??
The taint sat on a rock by the clearing ?Not quite, I just rent the space. Look over yonder, she, ah, it,? Sparko gestured carelessly in the general direction of the statues, ?the pink haired pest I just petrified... I suspect it has gotten bored in your absence, so now it raised a ruckus. But let us not worry ourselves over it, rather focus on these statues it made. So why don't you tell me what is common with all of them??
Figuring that Sparko would not be a reliable source of information on many issues, Okarik decided to still avoid boredom and answered, ?They are people I knew, they are dead, and they are portrayed in a strangely heroic ligth.?
Sparko seemed pleased, ?Good, good, you have keen eyes. But there are a few things you still missed. You have gained something from all of them, knowledge, skill, experiences... Everything of real value actually,?, his voice took on an almost excited tone, ?and you killed them when they were of no more use, as any reasonable man would have.?
Okarik grimaced, ?Stop grinning like an idiot, I didn't kill any of them. Well, Safana maybe, but i'm hardly the one to blame.?
Sparko stood up terribly smug looking, ?Is that so? Take Gorion here. Had you acted according to reason he would still be alive. You had the power to stop what happened here, a shame you denied it then. A shame that you killed him with your inaction and sentimental cowardice! But you learned from the experience.? If possible, his act adapted and even higher level of conceitedness, ?And besides, i grinned like a bloodthirsty pervert, not like an idiot.?
Okarik snorted, slightly amused, ?Your power? You are why I have always strived to improve myself, to have integrity, to control myself. I will never be a drooling slave of a demon, like Sarevok was.?
?And has it been worth it, striving for perfection? You know I would always have rewarded courage and reason with power enough to achieve your goals. Be honest with me here, you don't even remember why you rejected me in the first place. Now, time is running out, I'll meet you here later.?
Okarik wanted to argue, but a feeling of awakening quickly overcame him, and he found himself lying on his bed.
He lied still for a moment, ascertaining that he now truly had woken up, and to check that he had no trapwires bound to his toes, a habit he had failed to drop even with Imoen elsewhere.
The moon still shone down it's silver light through the stained glass window just above his head, almost inviting him to go for a walk outside to clear his head.
He quickly repeated all fresh knowledge he had acquired in the last few days and made a quick plan for his midnight walk, considering a few possible outcomes as well, so as to be prepared for all the usual surprises, including but not limited to assassins, hungry bears, underground beehives, and strangely talkative party-associates out for similar business.
Finishing his mental preparations, he straightened himself up, made a few quick stretching exercises, put on his usual loose black leather trousers, tightened them around his ankles, and pulled on his matching black leather tunic.
Then he moved on to equipment.
Thick and heavy, dark-brown leather greaves came first, then matching iron reinforced bracers, and a wide belt with an obscenely large belt buckle and blackened throwing weapons of many sorts in multiple more and less obvious sheaths and straps.
He took a moment to once more admire his pair of custom-made basket-hilted butterfly swords before placing them in their plain leather sheaths, and as a last step he fixed a pair of iron banded tonfa batons to a loop in the belt.
A look in the mental mirror reminded him to still put on his excessively thick bottomed sandals, strap his pink-colored hair into a long ponytail on the top of his head with a few garrottes, and then hide a pair of throwing needles in the mess.
Determining that he now had made all the necessary preparations, he still attached a small potion case to the belt, and walked out of the room and into the hallway, where a shocked voice instantly cried out ?By the gods! Zip up man! Zip up!?.
After an embarrassed moment of further preparations Okarik resumed his plan. He turned right, passed through the armory, descended the creaky stairs in the corner, walked through the smelly kitchen storage, across another hallway, and into the main hall where the servants hurried to busy themselves with something other than drinking.
A quick glance through the room revealed that Jaheira and Aerie had already retired for the night, Korgan sat by himself, staring at a half-empty tankard on the table with glassy eyes, Edwin, also by himself, seemed to concentrate on a house of cards he'd pieced together on the table.
Minsc couldn't be found in the room, but that didn't say much about his whereabouts, his habits varied with the whims of his hamster.
Yoshimo lied on a bench, apparently passed out, but not without a few bruises, his chronic habit of cheating with the dice rarely let him go unscatched.
Nalia and Anomen still kept up a drunken chatter with some of the servants in a table of their own.
Jan had disappeared, as had Viconia.
Concluding that nothing needed immediate attention, Okarik continued on his way, through the heavy front-side doors, into the courtyard where he snuck silently past the dog kennels, over the open drawbridge, and into the cut down ring of forest surrounding the castle.
The memory of Jaheira staring at the violence done to nature with that horrid jaw-struck expression on her face, if for but a moment before reason seized control once more...
He felt a faint spark of amusement at the memory, and for a moment he stood still, just breathing the cool night air, slow and deep, but a moment later, according to his plan, he lounged himself on the grass, and began observing the night sky.
Shining stars and whatnot, moving slowly along their unknown paths, quite pointless, really.
To move along a path determined by someone else, without freedom to decide for yourself, without even the power to shake your rear at stars and planets floating around slower than yourself, the caged life of a piece of the sky...
Real purpose could only be found with decision, that he knew.
Purpose could exist otherwise, but only through choices could it be found, only through choices and freedom could a man anyhow profit from his purpose.
He had known purpose, once upon a time, but somehow he had lost it, and he didn't know how. Now he felt like and arrow caught by the wind, still flying, flying fast, but to where and what for? Why keep flying?
Someone more inclined to worshipping the divine could perhaps find solace in thinking that the wind carrying him cared for him, but Okarik had felt himself to be allergic to all forms of divinities ever since his first encounter with the god inside.
A sudden sensation of someone approaching dragged him out of his melancholic internal monologue.
He rose up from the ground, quickly checked that his facial expression didn't betray any emotion, and turned to face the approaching mental presence.
?Oh Vicky, up and about as well I see.?
The way she fumed, Viconia seemed to be quite ready to explode, ?You said you would keep him in check!?
Okarik blinked. ?I don't quite follow.?
She walked closer, close enough to make it hard to fit a rabbit between their noses, ?There is a nude gnome snoring on my bed!?, she spat over her shoulder after finishing, and Okarik could almost hear an acidic hiss when the spattered discharge rained on the ground.
Looking down at her, he blinked again, self-consciously aware that without his sandals he wouldn't be looking downwards, ?That hardly sounds like anything you couldn't handle.?
Viconia's voice climbed a few steps up the pitch ladder as she shrieked, ?I'm not touching that creep!?
Okarik threw up his arms and rolled his eyes, ?Just give him some whipping and he'll go away.?
Viconia glared at him murderously, but suddenly the expression on her face turned into a devilishly compassionate smile, ?Ah! So it is all about that bondage incident again...?
Okarik's shoulders slumped, and he leant down to glare the drow straight in her eyes, ?There never has, and never will be, any kind of an bondage incident.?
?Oh, there's no need to hide it...? and with that she quickly turned around and dashed away with the last word, stopping only for a quick over-the-shoulder smirk when a needle-impaled bat fell down from the sky nearby.
Annoyed by the dialogue, and even more so by his failure to rein in his last outburst, Okarik sat down cross-legged to analyze the situation reasonably and to restore his calm.
It took him more than a few tries to get over recurring thoughts concerning bothersome people, dismemberment and disembowelment, but eventually he managed to, so he headed back inside.
As he passed the main hall, he took another look inside, and since his plans for the night lied in ruins anyway, he decided to enter.
Edwin's house of cards seemed somehow lower than the last time, a collapse seemed like a likely explanation, otherwise everything seemed to be as well as the last time.
Okarik sat down by an empty table, picked up a used fork, estimated a ballistic trajectory, and woke up one of the snoozing servants with a well aimed throw.
The only slightly frightened man quickly poured him a goblet of some dry and uninteresting kind of wine, which he downed quickly and ordered another, as well as a deck of cards to come along with it.
The red wizard could keep his winning streak with chess, but with card citadels, Okarik refused to be beat.
Card by card, floor by floor, goblet by goblet, the castle grew.
Soon Edwin noticed that he had competition, and sped up his pace, and in no time an all out race for the roof commenced, both competitors as eager as the other to sneer and smirk for each tumbling tower not on their own table.
For a long time the competition seemed fairly even, but long past midnight the wizard tower touched the roof first.
Edwin took his time making one last sleepy smirk, yawned, mumbled something about simian engineers, and headed upstairs, leaving a disbelieving Okarik staring in wonder and drunken amazement.
Okarik shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and once the red mage had disappeared he walked over to inspect the shoddy looking roof-scraper.
Adhesive...pfftt...Indeed, a careful eye could spot thin lines of honey where the cards met, easily keeping them together, and the honey jar on the floor gave away the nefarious scheme entirely.
Okarik snorted, picked up a candle, set the card-tower on fire, and left the scene for the servants to handle.
Okarik navigated the keep with as much skill as he in his state of mind could muster, but eventually he found his way back to his room.
But the door wouldn't open; someone had locked it from the inside, and Okarik surmised that the squatter also bore responsibility for the note nailed just over the handle:
The couch is free, male.It didn't take him too much brainwork to figure out, first that Viconia had occupied his room for now, and second, that the door opened outwards.
He shuffled his way to the armory, dug up a pair of wedges, and then headed back for his room, where he quietly jammed the wedges under the door.
Pleased with his revenge, he laid himself to sleep on the floor just outside the door, to make sure he would be the first to reap the fruits of it.
He closed his eyes, smiling inwards, and soon he felt himself drifting away from reality, and when he opened his eyes, he stood once more in the statue infested forest glade near the surreal mock-up Candlekeep.
Suddenly someone leapt out from behind a thick tree trunk, grimacing horribly and yelling terribly, ?Buarghhharrr!?.
Okarik blinked, really slowly, but the pink haired female with a black and white face did not disappear.
Okarik wrinkled his nose, with something of a huge question mark painted all over his expression, ?Imoen, what on earth have you done to your face??
?Corpsepaint!? she chirped, and grinned widely.
For a moment Okarik could do little but stare at the depressingly painted happy face grinning at him, waiting for him to say something. With a sigh he yielded. ?So what's the game this time??
?Angst!? Imoen smiled, and clapped her hands together a few times, as hyper as ever.
Okarik made a pleading face; ?I've got more than enough of that where I came from...?
Imoen stepped closer, aimed her right index finger at Okarik's nose.
?Oh, no, you, don't!? she said, stressing each word with a poke.
An exaggerated seasoning of indifference could be tasted in Okarik's voice when he asked her, ?Do you have a point to make??
She shrugged carefreely, ?You keep it all here.?
Okarik first turned his eyes to scan the landscape to his left, then to his right, then his gaze wandered down to the ground, from where it continued on to observe the forest in front of him, then the sky above him, and lastly he bent over backwards to look at the landscape behind him.
He straigtened his back and said smugly, coating his voice with a thick layer of gag-sweet intentional ignorance, ?I don't see any angst here.?
She laughed, ?The trees, the statues, the red dead grass all around, what do you think it all comes from, silly??
Okarik took another look around, this time more general and less thorough. ?This is a dream, coming from nowhere and headed for nowhere, why should I care about anything here??
Imoen absentmindedly rested her elbow on Okarik's head when she began explaining; ?Because you've brought yourself here, you've brought us here, well I maybe assisted, just a little, well maybe not all that little... But, uhh, anyway, hehheh, you don't really have any idea of what this place is, do you??
Okarik looked her coldly, straight in her eyes, and said with a freezing voice, ?Hands off. Only the real Imoen is allowed to lean on my head.?
?Aww...? The dream Imoen pouted, but straightened herself reluctantly. ?And the question??
The usual nonchalance returned to Okarik's voice as he shrugged and answered; ?Looks like a mess.?
Instantly Imoen piped cheerily, ?Hot!?
?Huh??
?Close.? Imoen waited a second for another guess, but as none came she went on ?This place is a garbage dump!?
Okarik looked at her with a questioning expression on his face, so she continued ?Do you know why these statues are here??
Okarik snorted with amusement, ?Do you expect me to have an idea or do you just want me to ask myself??
Imoen grimaced and whined, ?It's rhetorical, you boring yokel...?
?So why are they here?? Okarik barely could hold himself in check when a smug smile snuck to his side and began tugging and pulling at his face with a primal fervor.
Imoen seemed slightly disappointed, but still determined, ?Because you don't want them on the inside.?
Okarik turned to look at the statues, ?Makes sense, they're ugly.? A barely audible snicker escaped his lips.
Disappointment and annoyance raced ardously for second place in the competition to dominate Imoen's determination led voice, ?No, silly, that's not why! You dump the memories outside because remembering them as I do hurts! You didn't want to deal with any of it then, so you buried it all here. But it didn't work that well, now did it? You ended up belittling the memories, making them out to be distant and ?objective? until you no longer cared, but I cared.? She paused to take a breath, and resumed with a bitterly wry tone to her voice ?And here I am, outside with the garbage.? She looked around and shivered. ?I think I need a hug...?[/i]
At first Okarik seemed taken aback by the outburst, but he still managed to force a nonchalant tone, ?Quite the rant you had there. Next night you should go badger Jaheira, I think she might know some recipe for that.?
Imoen sounded quite resigned now, but in the way that writes between the lines
?Well, I saw it coming...?, she said, ?I know you well enough, whenever something hits you close enough you try to hide it and strike back, like it'd somehow help.?
Okarik felt himself fairly secure on his footing, but what could he do to the smug smile by his side which now had gone berserk and kept mauling his face in a hideously undetermined manner? He had a hard time keeping his voice dry enough for his own taste, ?It does, actually. An opponent with a face full of fist rarely begs for more.?
Imoen lightened up again, smiled, and said, ?Heh, I guess I'll just let you brood over it in peace then. But you should know that SHE wuvs me!? Imoen hugged herself. ?But she pities you, and hopes that you'll somehow just get better, she used to wuv you too, you know.?
The smug smile seemed to now settle for a frown, ?You're just trying to mess with my head. This is a stupid fagged out dream... And I know i shouldn't drink that much before gonig to sleep.?
Imoen no longer listened, she just absent-mindedly dropped the last comment before disappearing, ?I think Sparko still had something to say to you before you wake up, you really shouldn't listen to him, he's really got some unhealty ideas in his head...?
Seeing that he now stood alone in the dream, and figuring that physical exercises would do him little good outside of reality, Okarik decided to investigate the functionality of the dream.
He walked over to one of the sky-filled holes in the ground, knelt by it, supporting his arms on the edges, and looked inside.
The empirical evidence he encountered within led him to conclude that his dreamscape consisted of a relatively flat earth-plane, surrounded by an inperceivable shape of star filled sky.
He pondered for a moment, spat into the hole, and observed with great curiosity as the spittle accelerated at freefall pace, gaining distance all the time, soon it disappeared beyond sight.
For a moment longer he stared at the pit, hoping to maybe see some kind of an highly visual logical collapse in the internal structure of the dream when the spittle passed it's borders, but none came.
?Courage, what is courage?? Sparko entered the scene with a ponderous look on the mask covering his face.
Okarik kept staring at the pool, and replied inattentively, like a bored priest reciting a familiar passage from memory, ?Courage is motivation strong enough to make someone overcome an more or less intuitive sensation of potential harm to himself or his other intrests.?
?Do you have courage?? Sparko asked carefully, almost hesitantly.
?Nope.?
Unsurprised by Okarik's flat statement, the taint went on questioning, ?What do you have then??
Now Okarik finally raised his head from the star-pool, and answered ponderously, with still a hint of amusement blended in for good taste, ?Careful calculation of necessities and risks involved, also referred to as ?reckless disregard for my own safety? by a surviving long-term associate of mine.?
Sparko crouched by the elf still sitting by the pool, and continued the questioning, clearly having a prepared plan to play his cards by, ?Would you like to have courage then??
Okarik looked at him, and stated nonchalantly, ?I have no use for it.?
Sparko seemed delighted, and shared his pre-planned inference cheerily, ?Then you have no use for motivation either.?
Okarik pondered for a moment, ?I don't need motivation in the same way many others do, it is not what I use to climb over daily obstacles, for that I have determination and refusal to give in to weakness.?
Sparko stuck to his selection of prepared conclusions, ?You despise weakness then.?
Okarik shrugged and let his gaze climb upwards, ?In myself only. Others can be as shaky-kneed as they please as long as they don't bother me with it.?
?But still you choose to remain weak. Why do you deny a part of yourself?? Sparko made an effort to appear friendly.
Amusement glittered in Okariks wildly rolling eyes ?So we are through with a full circle. I hate weakness because weakness makes me doubdt my determination not to give in to you. Weakness tells me that I maybe am not strong enough to resist you.?
?I'll then have to ask the question you cannot answer; why? Face it again, you have no real reason not to accept the power I offer, I might even say that only by accepting it can you find your true purpose. Be sensible, fighting the power leaves you empty and meaningless.? Sparko took a deep breath before finishing. ?Besides, whatever you choose, we are close, the more you fight and the more you struggle, the closer we grow.?
Okarik answered confidently, ?I have decided not to accept you in any size or shape. I have mastered myself well enough, and I keep improving.? He then stopped to think for a moment, and finished wryly, ?One day i'm sure i'll even be able to talk to someone like Vicky without excess collateral damage.?
Sparko quickly diverted the conversation, ?She's a bitch, isn't she?? and continued in a patronizing tone, ?But don't worry, the childish anger she makes you feel is something you will learn to deal with, eventually.?
Okarik smelled a trap, it had been obvious from the start that Sparko had come prepared, but odd turns in conversations usually meant that a bothersome surprise lurked right behind the very next corner, Okarik frowned, and being somewhat more attentive now than before, asked, ?What??
?You don't seriously think that we are a god of senseless rage and slaughter, do you? That delusion belonged to Sarevok. I must say, i'm more of a fan of yours. Kill calmly, kill coldly, kill without a thought, yes, that's definately more to my liking.? Sparko rubbed his masked cheek thoughtfully.
Okarik quickly sprang up and pointed an accusing finger at the crouching piece of a god, ?Not you too! I've got my hands full enough with one fool spouting inanities here!?
Sparko rose slowly to his feet, standing at least a head and a half taller than Okarik. He asked kindly, ?But it is your philosophy, is it not? Once the fighting starts, there can be no hesitation, no regrets, and the coup de grâce is nothing but a logical follow up of the first strike. Perfectly cold blooded, perfectly reasonable.?
?It is NOT murder, it is reason, hesitation is death. Fools should learn to think before drawing steel, the people i kill are slain only by their own folly.? Okarik glared daggers at the taint.
?Perfectly cold blooded as i said, killing without guilt, without remorse. Perfect murder, dear child, that's what it is.? Sparko acted friendly and calm, but with a mocking sneer underneath.
Okarik's barrel of contained irritation exploded, so he leant back and boomed with a mock acknowledgement in his voice, ?I AM BECOME DEATH! THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS!?
Sparko shrugged, ?With the power few things would be beyond your reach, you could be what you wanted to be.?
The daggers no longer served their purpose well enough, so Okarik turned up the heat and began glaring meat cleavers, and failing to come up with a comment specifically for the situation, he dug up an old favourite, ?Eat shit and die happy!?
Only mildly disappointed, Sparko decided to call a break, ?You are becoming increasingly loathsome... We shall have to continue this discussion at another time.?
Okarik's vision dimmed for a moment, until blackness enveloped all of it.
Slowly in the drifting darkness he felt the irritation he'd felt dissipating, and a feeling of a hard stone floor under his back alerted him to his return to reality.
He quickly ran through his usual awakening rituals, checking that he really had woken up, that no-one had stuck daggers in his belly while he slept, and then just a quick repeat of anything worth remembering, and he felt himself ready.
He began observing his surroundings, but besides seeing large wooden splinters and pieces everywhere he didn't notice anything odd.
Wait, wooden splinters? He sat up.
Then he heard it, a deep resounding snore emanated from behind him, he stood up slowly and turned around.
A massive armored skeleton sat slumped by the doorway to the armory, dozing peacefully with a mean looking axe on it's lap.
Okarik turned around again, now fully awake, and prepared for the sight that greeted him.
The door to his room, or what little remained of it, hung limply to the side on a single hinge, the rest, or what did not remain of it, littered the floor all around. The axe-marks on the door indicated that it had been brought down with forceful blows from the inside.
Okarik looked at the door, then he looked at the skeleton, then again at the door, and then again at the skeleton, then he connected the two as being probably classifiable as cause and effect.
Seeing no-one else standing around staring in shock and horror in the corridor, Okarik figured that the vandalization had occurred not long ago, probably under the cover of some kind of an silencing spell.
He entered his room, and as he'd expected, did not find Viconia inside.
However seeing the furniture along with what little of his equipment he'd left inside remaining intact seemed like a pleasant surprise; he along with a slight majority of the party would head for Umar Hills in the afternoon, and he sincerely didn't feel like spending the whole morning gathering replacement supplies.
Okarik decided to avenge the door later on, and headed for the kitchen.
As the sun climbed higher, the adventurers began waking up, one by one, eating breakfast, and drinking away any leftover hangovers from the last night, and a little past noon a group of six people and one huge skeleton stood outside the keep, ready to depart.
