I bowed deeply. “Fare thee well, good face! And thankee!” I said as Britishly as possible. The man with the alien demon vampire latched onto his head smiled and waved goodbye.
I led the party along the road to the east. It ultimately split in two directions; one going north and one going south. The north path was labeled “Teleporter to Scholar Sam’s Magic Academy - this way”. The south path led to the gate of a park or something.
“The Magic Academy,” Araches pointed out, as if she had no faith in my amazing observational abilities, “we could get Sam to teach us some new spells.” L33tz4n and Fawriel nodded in agreement.
I took the photograph out of my pocket and looked at it. I could tell it was very old because it was brownish colored and the art style was crap. It depicted the old party of local heroes; Sam before he became an old guy, Trafton before he became a French hippy, Sear when he had hair, Pandora before she died, Grandma Conquista the Ultimate Evil when she was younger, and Fooruman looking exactly the same as usual. Evidently, Fooruman had long ago reached that age where you stop getting visibly older. In the time since the photo was taken, Sam had became a magic teacher, Conquista had opened a grocery store in Placespot, and Trafton had started a cult or something.
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