<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">GAME MANGLER<br/>_________________________________________________________________________________<br/></span></span></div><br/><strong>Harley</strong><br/><br/>"All you can drink, lass?" roared the gigantic innkeeper, letting loose a mighty laugh, and slapping his knee so hard the entire bartap shook.  "Aye,  pull the other one, it's got bells on.  Nay, it's me special ale, home brewed in the back o' this very buildin'.  Best ale ye e'er had.  I call it Horse Piss.  An' aye, it'll be a silver nougat.  Unless..."<br/><br/>His single eye twinkled with mischief.  "Unless ye care t'go against me in a drinkin' contest, lass.  If ye win, then all yer drinks--an' the room--are on the house, free o' charge. What say you?"<br/><br/>"Leave her alone, Bart."  This was from a man at a nearby table, a tall, thin man of indeterminate age with a scraggly beard and a permanent expression like a whipped puppy.  He was sitting alone, accompanied only by a pile of books. Indeed, he appeared to be writing in one.<br/><br/>The mountainous man peered over at the scraggly fellow, raised a bushy black eyebrow, and then, grinning coyly, affected an extravagant bow.  "Yes, m'lord. As you say, m'lord.  Wouldn't want to offend, m'lord."<br/><br/>The thin man scowled, and shook his head.  "Very funny, Bart."  Transferring his attention to the brown-haired girl in the priestess' vestments, he sighed.  "Pay no attention to him, my dear girl.  He likes to have his fun with the newcomers."<br/><br/>---<br/><br/><strong>Edmund</strong><br/><br/>Although he was preoccupied with his angsty poetry, Edmund would eventually become aware that he was being watched by a small child.  At least, it had to be a small child, somewhere in the pile of clothes on the floor, unless someone found a way of enchanting a pair of overalls, a jacket, mittens, and a woolly bobble-hat so they could move around and talk by themselves.<br/><br/>" 'Ere, are you a vampire, mister?" squeeked the pile of clothes.  "Only, yer dressed all in black, and yer skin's so white.  Only, yer not sparkling, so you can't be a vampire, 'cuz ever'body knows that vampires sparkle."