So it has come to this. I can't say I didn't expect it and in all fairness its time, the end of the Imps. At least I get to say goodbye, to walk my halls one more time, to say goodbye as I clean the rooms, seal the doors and sign the disbandment form. At least I get to end it and not have someone else do it.

The hallways echo with my footfalls as I walk to the Grand Hall, the feast hall as we called it. It never got used much but Hayate's last gift to us is here, he made it in celebration of our first birthday. Gods we were a mad bunch, young and carefree and so...controversial, how many other guilds can say they caused an uproar at the moment of their conception with nothing more then their name? I can't help but laugh at the memory as I close the big oak doors behind me, Laughter...its something we did a lot.

As I climb the spiral staircase that leads up from the main corridor I am sure I can hear whispers and voices, memories of laughter of arguments. Of Tusonee carrying an almost unconscious and very drunk Sylvana up to her rooms, or she of the Wicked Hands and Gentle Smile, standing here in all her elegant beauty with a raised eyebrow as I wait for her down the bottom, asking her for a dance, or Hayate standing here making an impromptu speech about his god forsaken light saber...gods was that a rowdy night! A grin spreads across my face at the memory; we had a lot of those too.

The Library, who would have thought we had one, more importantly...that we used and loved it, my heart twists a little as I pack our books away. Here is my collection of Beasts of the Golden Age, a manuscript I was putting together of legends and mad ramblings of creatures long lost and probably never existed. It's a shame I never finished it. Or these, the Imp's collection of short stories. Nearly every single one of us tried our hands at writing in one form or another. Here is Ansalans one, covered in dust, I grimace as I wipe it off then sigh in resignation as I look around, everything is covered in dust. Tinks would kill me if she knew. I put it in the chest along with his collection of poems; I grimace then laugh at the last. He wrote so flaming many and made me read every single one. Not that I really minded, if you look past the bad grammar and eye twisting syntax, he had some rather deep and interesting concepts. Of his works his story was my favourite though. Hayate’s and my stories are next, once again most are not finished. I tap my fingers on the bookshelves as I look at mine. I could finish it, always meant to. I sigh, what would be the point. There is no one left to read them. We told so many stories in this room, shared dreams over snifters of ambrosia and ale by the firelight. I can’t count the time I found her asleep here, curled up on one of the couches, her cascade of rich curling chestnut coloured hair tumbled around her, a clerical book of holy power fallen on the floor beside her. I’m sure she fell asleep as soon as she touched the things. Not that I’m complaining, I loved nothing more then to scoop her up, her head resting on my shoulder as I carried her to bed.
Ahhh and here is our collection of Valornian secrets, my lips twist in wry amusement as I carefully take them to a brazier and burn them. Once we knew nearly everyone’s dark little secrets, who hated who and why, who was feuding with who and plotting their downfall. But more…we knew nearly everyon’s secret identities. We did it for no other reason then our own amusement, not for gossip nor for power, but just for something to do…because we could. We gathered it but never gave it out, that would have been crass indeed and so very beneath us. Even now as I burn them I can’t help but laugh. My fellow Valornians so flaming clueless..

I narrow my eyes in speculation as I came across a map of the rogue tunnels drawn up in my writing, when did I?….. Ahhh I throw my head back and laugh. The war with Ethucan, not even two weeks old were we and we helped start a war with another continent. A bunch of pompous morons the lot of them. And this..a scrap of paper from Sunrifter castle I grin evily as I gaze at the scribbled doodle and quickly burn it. Less said the better but oh how I would love to share that little secret.

Enough, the books are packed, I will send them off to storage on the way down, now its up to Montanus Cafe I always loved the view from this room and Lucas’ French Silk Pie. He never would tell me what was in it but my mouth waters even now as I think of it. Can I cook? I smile at the thought…but the answer is…oh yes indeed. The question is…would you eat it? My green eyed cleric never would, my cooking well/…the effects were…¦interesting, to say the least. We had some good times in this room, food fights and parties…we were a rambunctious lot.

I’m in the antre now. Our underground pool, the last room made here the Enchantress and I spent a lot of time here, swimming, telling stories, giving each other a shoulder to lean on, an ear to bend…a place to hide from the world. I love the sound of the dripping water down the cavern walls, the flicker of torch light amongst the thick shadows and shifting mist from the warm pool waters. I will miss the…quiet contemplation it offered…my own cave of night so to speak. I blow out the last torch as I climb the stairs, my breath is a little unsteady and there is a heaviness in my chest, my steps.

The training room, ahhh the memories of spars between myself and my sister Alanna…she should have realized what everyone knows…No one can out fight a rogue cold steel to cold steel. Especially no mail-clunking warrior. Blade work requires finesse, grace and agility. You want something killed call a rogue, you want firewood call a warrior. I smile as I run my fingers along the now empty weapon racks, this was not always a training room, once the stairs lead down into a shadow filled room, containing nothing but the cool glint of metal, the kiss of flickering flames. I remember so clearly stepping onto the room and finding her there. Her hair falling over her shoulders as she sat on the table, her bright green eyes seeming almost iridescent as they shone in the dim firelight, her robes like living shadows clinging to her skin…ahhh her skin, like smooth creamy alabaster, it seemed to shimmer in the light, golden kissed as if the fire it self wanted to caress and taste her. That woman could capture me with nothing but a look, mesmerize me with her laugh, enslave me with her scent, with just a caress from her elegant, wicked fingertips, a glide along my cheek was enough. She was…is a woman to die for…but her looks are nothing to the person within. Gods…I miss her.

I’m stalling now, leading off from this room is another door, two golden swords mark the front of it. The memory of her is thick enough here...that room…my room. Its just an office made for me by Hayate, it holds nothing but a few sentimental treasures, a rack for my twin falchions, a bookcase…yes I love books and my desk and chair…and piles and piles of paper work. This room has been painted pink and purple with garish flowers on the walls in nail polish by that flaming guttersnipe and Jaye and her horrid little stingray. Ahhh gods how they made me laugh…the antics of the Imps…there was nothing stoic or restrained about us…we were free and wholly ourselves…always
She used to wait for me here sometimes, she’d stand in front of the bookcase, her back to the door, her hair cascading down around her in a riot of rich chestnut brown curls, deep, dark and vibrant, just like her, the flash of her green eyes, her smile, so gentle and wicked. Many thought of her as the wallflower Imp…but they didn’t know her, probably still don’t…she was quieter then her sister, no…not quieter just lest loud, but she was more passionate, more sensual in a subtle, elegant kind of way. Not to mention a hell of a lot smarter too. I lived to see her smile, to her hear laugh, just hearing her footfall coming down the hall way would settle and calm me, no matter what kind of day I had. Don’t get me wrong…we weren’t all roses and candy…we fought too. I am not the easiest person to get along with. I am stubborn and brash, easy to anger and less forgiving then Ben himself. I wonder how she is now.¦

I can’t believe I still have this. I found it in my desk a carved leaf from the throne of the Amazon queen herself…yea gods! I remember that day…flaming Domo Khan! He was a young Imp and.had sneaked into the Amazon throne room and scratched his name into the queens chair. Naturally he was caught by…I can’t help but laugh. He was found by Jessa, Asrai, Stara Narina Fey and others. They had him trussed, beaten and were getting ready to skin his hide when he called me…naturally I came. I moved from shadow to shadow and snuck up behind them in that flower, vine kissed room and knocked Jessa on her backside before she could stick him through the heart with her novice pig sticker of a sword. Well if you know Jessa you can imagine the tussle that ensued, Domo hid under the throne while I had to face four or five angry fierce amazons. Say what you will about them but the amazons were a force to reckon with, fierce proud and loyal, every single one of them knew how to kick butt and weren’t afraid to fight dirty either…gods they were amazing! I did manage to boot that brat Ruby Falcon across the room though…gah I couldn’t stand that little… .Anyway there I was, captured, stripped, hanging from my heels and about to be gelded by that red headed cleric and the Guttersnipe rogue in training her self when Arlanna The Keen walked in….I cant remember why I was released but I was and while I stood there listening to Ruby and Stara drone on about how I should be made to kneel and grovel and apologize and boring stuff like that I quietly sliced a leaf off of that throne, a big mocking grin splitting my face as I looked at Star…man did she fly into a rage then, not at the leaf they didn’t know what I had done, but that I dared to stand there and grin at her after attacking them in the halls and blah blah blah. I was never much on lectures. I wonder what that guttersnipe of a rogue and the red headed cleric would say if they knew I had this…once they were the fiercest, most loyal and proudest Amazons I knew. Have I ever told Jessa just how proud of her I am...my protégé; gods can that little cur fight hard not to mention dirty. The little guttersnipe, I hope she never changes. As for that red headed cleric. She is was one of my closest friends, but by the gods do we argue with each other…what does it matter now? The Amazons are even deader then the Imps but she sure did make a fantastic queen. I think I am sadder for the Amazons then I am for my own guild…The Imps burnt brightly indeed, but as they say those that burn the hardest die out the fastest and I have absolutely no regrets, not really. I’m sad to let go its true, mainly because I know if I just spent some time, some dedication to Trinald and the guild I could rebuild it..wake it up…But I just don’t have the heart anymore. I haven’t for awhile, Its time to shut the doors, let someone else build their dream and make it live. But the Amazons…they truly had, have something unique to offer the lands. A guild built around a bunch of fierce, independent proud woman, woman who aren’t afraid to stand up and stand toe to toe with any adversary, knowing a sister always had their back. People will no doubt say well that’s the same as any other guild. I say pull your head out of…the bucket…you aren’t good enough to wash their well…anything really. Long Live the Amazons…especially those two. The red head and the guttersnip…not to forget Minnie and Agua..no…one cannot mention the Amazons and leave those two out.

So my office door is shut, my hand is curled around the handle, my back pressed up against the door. For some reason I can’t move from the spot, my hand is shaking and my chest hurts, if I turn and open the door will I see her again, hear her soft voice, her throaty seductive laugh, the flash of her eyes.. I stumble as I push away from the door, my fingertips brushiung the smooth wood behind me one last time. Time to finish this

I have closed the tavern and Alanna’s weapon room. The tavern had seen a lot of hard nights, a lot of drunken nights, laughter and fun, there are scortch marks on the roof, the bar and some chairs, the walls still glitter with unopened bottles and barrels of Lucas’ horrid barbarian ale . I never told him I used to sit there some nights and drink a few glasses of the stuff…its dark, smooth and foamy…it really is a fine drop. I have a bottle of ambrosia and dragonbreath in my pack…just for old times sake. Might even share a glass or two with a few people…or maybe not. Have I ever mentioned I am rather greedy?

Only one room left now, the entrance..it has seen many changes but there is one or two constants. The four imp statues, proud, fierce, arrogant, unyielding and unapologetic for being what they are. Long Live the Imps and the pool of cool water fed from the oasis outside. This place was our citadel, our sanctuary. It was filled with laughter, love, hope, dreams and the sound of family. Outsider entered at their own risk and we liked it that way

The front doors are shut now, shut and barred, there is no going back, my hands tremble as I lean against them. The sun is so bright as I step away. It hurts as I pull Humbolds disbandment form out of my pack and I can’t help but sink to my knees., my hands are so shaky as I take out the quill Its raining, the drops of water are smearing the ink as I sign my name, Humbold will have a hissy fit. Its funny but I could have sworn the sky was blue a second ago, a sun shower perhaps. Well the deed is done and the guild is no more, but we are still here…us Imps…the guild didn/t make us...we made it, we…its people are its heart and soul, all I’ve done is cleared the land for others who can make use of it.

I think I am ill. I keep stumbling in the sand, my feet don’t seem to work properly and my face is wet from the rain, yet as I look around all I see is sunny skies and rippling sand I feel funny, like a stained paned window that’s shattered into a million glittering pieces, the wind howls hungrily around me or so it seems, and yet everything is still and calm. The raindrops taste like salt as I bewilderingly lick the corner of my mouth. Is there a storm and water from the oasis splashed me? But shouldn’t it taste fresh. I sink against the outer walls of Milltown, I should call my green-eyed cleric…but wait…she’s not a cleric anymore is she. That’s ok, I’ll just rest here for a little while…Just for a little while.