"Finally!" spoke Ryan, observing in the reflection of the well that he was sprouting hair once more. The regenerative pulled the hood back onto his new head and walked into the town.
"I need a place for the night," he told a man in what appeared to be a kind of traveler's inn. The man was too busy laughing over something to give him any notice, so Ryan simply proceeded for a room.
Tim had been unable to sleep for a specific daunting reason. Perhaps he should have thought to have done it before going into the building for the night, but returning from doing so, he felt much better.
He walked past the owner who was chuckling in his sleep and went back to his room. Tim noticed now that the door beside theirs had a pair of boots outside it. "I wonder who else is here," he thought aloud before retiring again for the night.
Ryan... he's here...
Ryan's dream brought him into contact with his superiors, the Prophets. "What?" he spoke within his dream.
"The transgressor, the feared one. We sense him through you. You are right beside him! You must complete what we have asked of you and destroy him!"
"Yes!" Ryan sat up abruptly and looked about the darkened room. His target was nearby. Within a few feet of him if the Prophets were correct. He looked about himself quickly and accidentally slammed his head into the wall beside his bed. "Ouch! He must be in the room next to me!"
Tim was woken by the sudden sound of someone hitting the wall. "Huh? Wha... Who's awake?" Neither of his companions stirred. Drum Boy made a brief snorting sound and continued sleeping.
The boy shrugged. It must not have been anything.
"Just go back to sleep," spoke Psycho, startling Tim thoroughly. The man hadn't moved at all, but was apparently completely conscious.
"You're awake?" asked the boy.
"Don't disturb me with more of your questions. Talk is for daytime," he reported rather bluntly.
"Sheesh. Sorry." Before Tim could settle down to rest again, the door burst open revealing a very short-haired Ryan holding a club. The man looked just as shocked as Tim as he noticed Lord Psycho motionless on the floor, but his demeanor changed when he spotted the boy.
"Psycho!" shouted Tim. The Lord remained motionless and Ryan sneered at the boy. He drew his club and began his advance. Tim edged up to the wall, anticipating the worst when Ryan's charge ended in his unintended self-plunge into the tip of a suddenly drawn axe blade. "Not... again..." gasped Ryan as blood formed at his mouth. The regenerative fell to the floor.
"Hey, Drumbo," Psycho poked at the Drum Boy's back with his axe's handle. "Your turn. I already had to dispose of this guy once."
"Yeah, whatever." Psycho dragged the currently slain body from the room. Turning to Tim who was still in a state of alarm, he replied, "Didn't I tell you to go back to sleep?"
Another tense hour passed before the boy finally did.
"You know, putting them in water, it makes it more difficult for them to regenerate," spoke Drum Boy. "Then they have to actually purge the liquid out as they seal their wounds."
"The well was a convenient place to dump him," spoke Psycho bitterly. "He's really quite unskilled as an assassin, and that goes especially for a regenerative. Good thing for the Prophets all their followers aren't so inept."
"I wouldn't mind if they were," stated Tim. "I'm the one they're all after."
"I wouldn't be concerned," answered Psycho. "Just keep working at your swordplay and you'll be fine. You have the best trainer you could hope for."
"Yeah, and you also have Psycho," spoke Drum Boy with a smile.
"Like you did anything last night!" argued Tim. "You just sat there and snored as Psycho..."
"So we're off to the tower now, are we?" interrupted Drum Boy. How do you plan to get them to help us?"
"They're always eager to help," replied Psycho. "The uncertainty is in HOW they will help us. What we need is some kind of sailing vessel, but the only water near here is the river leading to the wrong side of the continent."
"Who are we going to meet?" asked Tim.
"The same beings who created the screen and basically all of the well- made structures in the Bane World," answered Drum Boy. "We're on our way to meet the Builders at their tower. According to Psycho, they'll be more than eager to help us out."
"The City is on another continent," continued Psycho. "If we're going to go there, we need some kind of vehicle. We could build one ourselves, but if we want a dependable craft, we would be foolish not to enlist their help."
"And they'll be receptive to us?"
"This kind of stuff is all they do," explained Drum Boy, "build to the request of others. If people stopped making requests of them and giving them challenges, they'd have no outlet for their free will. It's simply who those banes are, and freaks for perfection as well."
"But first we need some breakfast," concluded Psycho. "I want to see how good you've gotten with that sword. This time we'll track it and you make the attack, got it?"
"Yeah," sighed Tim, understanding that he'd have to desensitize himself against his newfound respect for life if he had any hope whatsoever for preserving his own should a true conflict occur. There was nothing more he could do than practice wielding his blade.