"You know we need supplies," it was the Knight who brought this up once they were out of the Grove. Tomas had led them both to Lion's Arch, and he didn't seem to hear the comment as he wound expertly through the crowded streets, past the traders and crafting criers.

"Keep up, Pyro." He spoke to the engineer instead, who was following but slightly haphazardly, gawking a bit and having to apologize to strangers he'd bumped into.

"Where are we going?" he called up to Tomas in response.

"The Priory." Tomas' 'voice' echoed back without a backward glance. "We need supplies and information."

"Huh," the Knight mused aloud, "so that part of the stories is true, hm? You really are a member of the Priory?"

That earned no response, for the Mesmer was already sweeping through the canal gate and out into Gendarran Fields, intending to cross over to Lornar's Pass and the cold mountains that housed the Durmand Priory.

An acolyte stepped up in a timely manner as soon as the Second left the Inner Sanctum. "My lady Ravenclaw?"

"Hmm? The Master cannot be disturbed at this time – "

The acolyte bowed, "Very well, if perhaps my lady could direct her attention to this matter in his stead, there is something … that perhaps should be dealt with."

"Yes?"

"There's a – a bard? What is the term your people use for a warrior-poet or –"

"A skaald?" the Second supplied, with a seemingly endless amount of patience.

"Yes my lady. There is one in particular that has been… rubbing elbows with some of our new recruits, asking questions, spinning… suggestive tales about the Cabal, my lady."

"I see." Valda Ravenclaw looked down her nose briefly at the humbled acolyte before her – it was a human, wearing their traditional grey garb with a dark purple sash that indicated he was of some rank himself in their guild. "This skaald… in your opinion. Is he any real trouble?"

For a moment, the man hesitated. "Difficult to say. He has a penchant for things that are dark and unsavory, and I believe he is more intelligent than even he lets on. If he were a Mesmer I would put him forward as a candidate to join us, but he is not."

"Interesting. He will bear investigation, then – does this dark skaald of yours have a name?"

"Samael Stormcrow."

It was two nights later, and they were back in the sticky humidity of Maguuma, and the uncomfortable, tense silence of three. Over the flicker of the campfire, Sguelaiche watched the so-far nameless Knight. He hadn't tried to murder or torment him or Tomas in their sleep, but the simple fact that he was of the Court made Sguel nervous. Perhaps worse, he could not sense Tomas at all through the Dream – not a memory, an echo, a footprint, nothing.

He jumped when the Knight leaned forward in his direction suddenly and said, "Boo!"

"Don't do that! Whoever you are."

Tomas snorted.

The Nightmare Courtier laughed, and inclined his head. "You were so deep in thought, I couldn't resist. My name is Dubhlocke, Knight of Entropy."

"Tch." Tomas made a derogatory mental sound that he projected for them to hear. "Entropy."

"Mmhm." There was an intelligence burning Dubhlocke's eyes that made the Mesmer slightly wary. "And you, Bloodthorn… so odd for a sylvari to take a surname. A bit eccentric. Like a human."

Tomas waved this off; his companion's interest in his own many idiosyncrasies was not concerning, or pertinent. "I'm in no mood for heart-to-hearts. We need to find out what's going on here, and be quick about it."

"You have other things pressing?" Dubhlocke asked with a wry twist to his mouth. "I'm in no rush. The only thing waiting for me is either a prison cell in the grove or a bunch of poisonous ingrates that call themselves the Court."

Sguelaiche only shrugged, intrigued by Dubhlocke's wording but willing to drop it for now in the face of the mesmer's obvious irritation. "I don't care either way. I was going to look up a new teacher before I got apprehended by the Wardens. But this could afford some opportunities to learn new things I wouldn't get otherwise. What is the situation anyway, Tomas?"

The red-skinned member of their group paused for a moment, his back to both of them, and then his voice projected again: "There have been an increasing number of incidents in Caledon Forest and Metrica Province, and probably further into Maguuma, of sylvari attacking asura – or vice versa. Not Nightmare Court, not Inquest. Normal Krewes, normal saplings – sometimes even Wardens."

"And how are you involved?" Dubhlocke sounded amused.

"Because I notice things. Things that have been out of place, at a couple of the sites. Purely by accident, but nonetheless…"

"What kind of things?" Sguel wanted to know. He'd taken what looked like the ingredients for some kind of timed charge from his bag, and seemed to be attempting to assemble it with a small set of tools. Tomas watched him for a moment, seeming intrigued but not nervous, before replying:

"Things like… seed turrets and mines at lab stations that have been blown to hell. Not nightmare mortars, but regular ones. Except they look like … they look … wrong." He exhaled harshly through his nose, managing to sound exasperated with no words at all. "When we find one of these sites, if there's evidence left after the Lionguard and Wardens have stomped all over it, I will attempt to show you. I'm not sure it's anything a non-mesmer would note or understand."

"Sorry Magister, but the Priory already sent a cleanup crew," Lionguard Kiesa saluted slightly, apologetic. "Well, they sent someone, anyway."

Tomas didn't dress like Priory, but this time when they had approached the last known site of contention, he decided pulling rank and asking nicely might work best. "Honey instead of thorns, Bloodthorn?" Dubhlocke had asked, which earned him no reply.

"Who did they send? We need more information." Tomas inquired of the Lionguard instead.

The leather-clad human shivered slightly. "Big fellow. Norn – strange colored hair, bluish tattoos down his face. Looked almost like a mask."

"Anything else? Did he give a name?" Sguel asked before anyone else could.

"He had a very distinctive sword. Said his name was Explorer Stormcrow, of the Priory."

Dubhlocke leaned forward, raising a craggy brow. "Distinctive sword? Distinctive how?"

The Lionguard shifted uneasily, looking to her shoulder where a very sleek hawk was perched. "It was… shaped like a giant bat. Or maybe it was one, some kind of trophy made into a blade somehow, I've no idea. Then again don't Norn do strange things like that? Trophies from hunts and such? He had rather large bird skulls for pauldrons, too. That sword was bigger than me… He was a polite fellow though. Articulate. No chest-beating or any such thing. He merely said the Priory had sent him because he was in the area, and he even cleaned up the place on his way out."

"Did he really. How kind." Tomas' projected tone said volumes, and none of them boded happily for the strange Norn should they catch up to him… "Thank you for your assistance."

"Well now what?" Sguelaiche wanted to know as they got underway again. "Hunt down Stormcrow for what he knows, or try to anticipate another attack, or…?" he shrugged helplessly, looking to Tomas for direction.

The red sylvari made another irritated noise through his teeth. "Difficult to say. I wish I knew if there was a pattern to these attacks… I have a feeling it's neither the asura nor the sylvari actually doing the instigating. I'd give a lot to find out, though."

There was music and sounds of clapping as the three approached the Weeping Isle in Caledon via the Mabon Market. Once inside the small settlement, the three could see all sorts of sylvari dancing and clapping, ringed around an enormous figure of a Norn, who was strumming a lute – the source of the lively music.

"Whoa, when that Lionguard said 'distinctive' she wasn't kidding." Sguelaiche muttered to Dubhlocke, who snickered.

The Norn in question was well-muscled, with blue tattoos peeking from gaps in his armor straps and covering his face, making his blue eyes look hooded and dark. His head was half-shaved, half covering the right side of his head in short waves, and his hair was a light teal color that almost matched the hue of his markings. Sure enough, slung over his back was the huge greatsword, and Sguel couldn't tell if it were metal forged like a giant bat or if it was as the Lionguard had guessed, a trophy somehow made into a blade.

"I think his sword's bigger than me," the engineer said quietly in a half-awed, half-horrified tone, which got choked laughter from the Knight. "What?" Sguel tilted his head, unsure of what he'd said that was funny.

Tomas found one of the older Soundless and was soon deep in conversation, though neither of the others could hear as he'd gone across the room. Dubhlocke slapped Sguel on the shoulder with a grin, "Wait here, I'll be right back."

"Okay…" mystified, the dark sylvari sat on a nearby stool offered to him by another Soundless, listening to the Norn's next rollicking melody while he waited. This song seemed to revolve around sailing and hunting whales, with a cadence that started quickly and slowly wove slow and mournful. When the last note hung in the air, there was a pause, then a riot of noise as the gathered sylvari applauded, many talking all at once. The Norn was besieged with requests for more, questions about what the song meant or asking him to describe where the tune had come from, with food and drink being offered all around.

It was at this point that Dubhlocke returned with two thin-necked bottles, and handed one to Sguelaiche. "Drink up. The Soundless are odd but they make good alcohol."

"Really?" the engineer shrugged and uncorked it, swirling the contents. "It's… not making any noise."

"Exactly. Soundless Liquor."

"Huh." Without another though to it, Sguel tipped the bottle up.

Dubhlocke's eyes widened; he had been sipping his. "Hey, hey, not so fast, if you drink it like that this stuff with knock you on your –"

BOOM! FLASH!

His words were cut off as a searing blaze of light blinded everyone in the room and the whole area filled with thick choking smoke. Dubhlocke got knocked out of his chair by another panicking merrymaker and rapped his head on the floor…thankfully, he'd yet to take his helmet off, but the noise of it left his ears ringing.

He waited a moment for the sensation to wear off, and gradually became aware that order was being restored as the smoke cleared. A couple people who hadn't been in the main area had gone and gotten leafy fans to try to help blow away the excess smoke, others were helping one another off the floor from the panic, calming each other down. The Norn was to the back, his head up and scanning the area, music forgotten.

Tomas made his way over, "Are you wounded?"

Slowly, the Knight shook his head. "No, I don't think –"

"Good. A few toes got stepped on in the confusion I think. Now we need to find out who or what –" he paused, seeming to glance around. "Nightmare. Where the hell is the pyro?"

"What are you talking about? He's right –" glancing to his left where the engineer had been sitting only a moment ago, Dubhlocke was surprised to see an empty seat, and no sign of their explosion-loving companion anywhere.