The conversation seemed harmless enough, it was the old monk's mannerisms that had Thrand's complete attention. Each time the monk tapped his middle finger on the bar something nagged at the edge of Thrand's memories. The way his head kept snapping about to seemingly look at people was also disturbing. The monk was completely blind and unable to walk without a staff, yet he seemed to know exactly where everyone in the tavern was sitting, including the ones who had made no recent noises.

Then Fineaus asked Brisid for a walking tour. That seemed exceedingly odd to Thrand. When the old fellow pulled himself to his feet, Brisid glanced back at the corner. Thrand simply nodded and mouthed, "Uuma dela". As Brisid helped the old man out the door, Thrand reached into the corner to retrieve his longbow. He stood, taking his time in stringing the bow and settling the quiver of arrows across his shoulder, giving the two men time to get away from the tavern.

Outside the tavern the late evening sun was more than enough to show Thrand the trail the two were leaving in the newly fallen leaves. It would be hard for an old blind man in a robe to not leave a trail, yet...Thrand knelt and pushed the leaves aside to look at the actual prints left in the soft loam. Something was very wrong with the prints that Fineaus was leaving. The first problem was the lack of shoes, hidden by the long robe. But even more perplexing than that was what appeared to be claw marks near the toes on a few of the prints. Thrand's jaw set firmly as all the evidence came together. Standing quietly and brushing the leaves off his knees he pulled an arrow from the quiver and knocked it in his bow.

Slowly, stepping carefully to avoid any rustle, Thrand followed the two. They moved north through the Free Elven Market and past the Temple. The two stopped for awhile to talk to other elves while Thrand crouched in the shadows at the edge of the forest. His eyes never left the figure of Brother Fineaus. He considered taking the shot right now, but there were too many other people in the area and it would be dangerous. Things seemed safe enough for the moment, so he decided to wait for a better opportunity.

After a short while Brisid and Fineaus moved off again, heading onto the Green between the Temple and tel'Mallen. Thrand slipped though the brush in the edge of the woods, bringing the bow up and drawing it carefully. But before a shot presented itself the pair slipped into the edge of the woods where Fineaus sat on a fallen log, apparently tired. Cursing silently Thrand slipped the arrow off the bowstring and back into the quiver. The underbrush would make a shot now dangerous. It would also cover an attack from anyone who might wander across the Green, so it seemed likely that the creature would make its move before another chance to hit it from afar presented itself.

Thrand slipped his sword from its scabbard as quietly as he could, timing it to coincide with bird calls to mask the inevitable sounds of steel slipping from leather. The two were still talking about tel'Ruid when something truly astonishing happened. Brother Fineaus began to speak in Brisid's voice, tone and timbre changing slightly as he got used to making the new sounds. Brisid's hands slipped to his own sword and distrust flashed across his eyes as he rose to his feet.

Fineaus leapt into motion, lunging at Brisid and swiping at him with long claws that appeared suddenly on the hands of the old monk. Before the battle could get out of hand, Thrand sprinted towards them, sword in hand. Fineaus turned his head slightly at the sound, but wasn't fast enough. The pommel of Thrand's sword cought him in the chin, knocking the monk to the ground. Blackish blood spewed out from the rip in the monk's skin and the eyelids on the wrinkled face opened, showing not blinded eyes but blank white skin.

Thrand poked at the fallen monk with his sword, unwilling to bend down to look closer. The creature spoke, again in Brisid's voice. "You have doomed yourself as well, Thrand." Then the seemingly frail being shot to its feet and stabbed at Thrand with the claws on its hands. Thrand jumped back and parried the attack with a swift circular move of his broadsword as Brisid stepped up from behind and smacked the creature with the flat of his own blade. With a faltering, high pitched cry the creature fell to the ground again, this time landing in a motionless heap.

Thrand tilted his head in thanks and slipped his sword back in its scabbard. "Got any rope?"

"Mmmm...chain," Brisid smiled.

"I won't ask."

"Just for things like this," Brisid said as he bent down to secure the thing's arms with a length of chain.

Thrand knelt down to look at the apparent monk. "I assume this must be Fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Brisid looked up, puzzled.

Nodding absently Thrand poked at the skin of the old monk. "Amazing, he almost snuck past me. I didn't get suspicious until I realized he wasn't as blind as he should be."

Brisid pulled a steel rod out of his pouch and, ignoring the quizzical look from Thrand, wrapped it in a cloth and shoved it in Fourteen's mouth.

Thrand kicked at one of the limp hands. "Mind the third finger, it's sharp. According to the notes they use it to pierce the base of the skull and then to skin their prey."

"Ahh..." Brisid answered, not understanding in the least.

"This one is well hidden," Thrand said, examining the claw.

As Brisid finished binding the creature, the old monk's skin slid somewhat with a sickening wet sound. Thrand shook his head sadly. "I was afraid of that."

Brisid froze and started to back up. "Is that...bad?"

Thrand drew a dagger and poked at the skin of the creature's face, tearing it easily. "I have to assume that at one time there was a real Brother Fineaus. This fellow seems to have killed him to borrow his...outfit. Probably was about to try that with you just now as well"

With a disgusted look, Brisid finished binding the creature. "I knew I had a good reason not to trust him..." Stepping back from the bound body Brisid chuckled to himself. "Thank you for the shadow."

Rocking back on his heels, Thrand frowned at the limp body. "Now, what do we do with him?" He looked up at Brisid, head tilted in a questioning gesture.

Brisid rubbed his chin for a moment. "Hmm...Are the other thirteen known to talk?"

"Oh...yes...You didn't read any of this. No, the research notes say that Fourteen here is unique." Thrand pointed at the body with his dagger.

"Then this would be one to keep," Brisid decided. "If we can, that is."

"Oh good." Thrand looked at the body in sadness and sighed. "Best strip that skin away. It's not his."

Brisid made a face. "Right."

Rolling his eyes, Thrand huffed. "Warriors. Check the back, he'll probably have slit the skin up the spine."

Turning the creature over and cutting away the robe revealed a long cut in the skin tied up by a suture, probably dried intestine. Cutting that let the skin slip away, revealing a spindly, black humanoid body. The nasty job didn't take very long, and the two elves backed away from the skin stealer with the remains of the monk.

"Burn it," Thrand said. "Poor old monk."

Wiping his hands on his cloak, Brisid nodded. "We should send someone to check with the Abbey, see if they are missing someone."

The two elves made a small fire to burn the last of Brother Fineaus, then stamped it out and covered the ashes with a thin layer of wet soil.

Picking his bow up again, Thrand glanced down at the still body. "I hope the notes were right and this was the only one of these he has."

Brisid looked over at him. "Who?"

"Oh, yeah. You missed that. Khellenduras. Let's get this thing to the tower and I'll tell you."

Reaching into his pack, Brisid pulled out a small horse statue. He set it on the ground and stepped back, and suddenly there was a fully-grown black mare, slightly transparent. Thrand helped him drape the skin stealer over the back of the ethereal horse, then pulled his own statue out and mounted up. They rode south towards the Ostar Tower as Thrand explained the abandoned watchtower to the Captain.