Zsalat is Dead

Along the commonly traveled roads, a note is placed, pinned to trees and signs. It is written in a nondescript but neat hand.

Let it be known that Zsalat the Black is dead!
The Black Network and the House of Jaelre did defeat the Chronomancer Zsalat the Black. No other did anything worth noting. The mercenary Elaine that struck the final blow, and it is the House of Jaelre that did make it possible.

Hail the Zhentarim, and Hail Bane! Walk in Fear!
Hail the drow of the Cormanthyr.

Tired eyes fell upon a notice placed along the roads, the lightly armored figure staring at the decree in silence. There was no fire or outrage at the message, and none of the notices would be damaged by her hand, instead there was only the harsh coldness that filled the air around her with a palpable sense of unease. A gloved finger traced along the text, angry wisps of black energy trailing behind her hand.

"No other did anything worth noting..."

After a few more minutes of silence she wandered off, climbing up the path to overlook the crossroads to watch, wait, and tell herself the same lie she had lived with for the past four hundred and sixty three days.

Cruven reads one of the notes and snorts a laugh before taking the note and stuffing it in his pack before muttering to himself.

"Feck'n idiots, thanks fer the proof yer a bunch o' filthy spider lovin' pricks on tha' mountain."

*When Elaine would see this she'd turn pale white and run to find Alton.*

* A hooded figure clad in heavily armored robes stares at the notice through narrowed eyes. Clenching her jaw, Lilly tears the parchment that was posted at the crossroads and turns to make her way back across the river and to the path leading up the mountain *

Bart takes one of the posters down. "This must be the information I heard was posted about." he mutters to himself.