Lovely Lady Nil'vara,

Here is the epic tale of the death of the murderous Yhaunn, abbreviated into some semblance of a report, and told in a colourful third person!

The heroic H. R. Penrose, famed writer and adventurer, slayer of lichs, an avatar of ooze, and bane of Zovaldar, was hunting in the lightless depths of the filth ridden sewers, hunting for the mad criminal Aledrec Yhaunn. He knelt to the ground, examining an imprint in the sickly layer of waste covering the sewer floor. Human-sized, from a warrior. Penrose knew who it had to be. The dashing hero called upon his many magics as he followed the tracks, ascending the sewer lift into Lower Sanctuary, and out into the lawless streets.

There he was, some thirty feet ahead, Yhaunn. The coward criminal heard Penrose's shimmering magic and fled towards Mycopolis, with the brave and shining Greycloak Knight right behind him, slashing at his heels. Though sorely wounded, Yhaunn managed to outpace Penrose, he was nearing escape- when the magic hit him. Aledrec Yhaunn, rendered into a stupor, wobbled and faltered, and was brought down by Jocelyn, the blade of Penrose. He was shackled and being made ready to be taken to Upper, when his accomplice struck. A sorcerous of fell magic, hands ablaze with the arcane, blasted at Penrose from behind, but her dark sorcery failed against his many wards. Penrose charged her, and found himself facing not a woman but a troll of immense size. Jocelyn plunged through the skin of stone she had placed upon herself, bringing her to ground again and again until she rose no more, lifeless, she turned back to her true form.

Penrose heard a noise behind him and spun to see Yhaunn stumble, shackled, towards the Canal waters. With a dash he was behind the fleeing murderer and struck a fatal blow. The hero took not a scratch, and never did Yhaunn turn to fight and meet his end like a man. He died as he lived, a coward.

Hopefully this will satisfy your file's need for an ending! Perhaps in return you could tell me how things are with Sarkish, has he continued to sweep you off your feet?

Harlow R. Penrose