You're welcome for the Democratic sword, Artimis

Vader was frustrated. That twerp Orko could have just hurried up, but instead he had to banter on. It seemed time had done little to curb his idiocies.

Several hours passed before the sun finally began to creep over the horizon and rouse his sleeping wife.

"Oh Vader, baby. Did I forget to untie you?" she asked, rolling over and slowly opening one eye.

"I could hardly fault you, milady. It seems our time together has ever been fleeting," Vader replied.

As she lay in his lap, staring up at his distorted, leathery features, he regaled her with tales of his escape from the afterlife and his trip across the mortal realm to find her and Morganna.

"Vader, in my own world... no one ever chased after me or came back from the dead for me. ...This world feels a hundred times more real than that place ever did. I have you and Morganna here. I- I don't think I ever want to go back," Lady De'Lyons said.

Vader smiled, an act that even he, himself would find repulsive. And yet she only smiled back.

"And I would never ask you to," he said.

...Some time later.

Once properly dressed, the two headed back to Red Rose Manner. There, they parted ways. Lady De'Lyons headed off to meet with Morganna, while Vader went in search of Glenn. Whome he found instead was Artimis. The man looked as though he'd had a rough night. Looking into his eyes, he looked sort of... thin. Like butter, spread over too much toast. Carrying a cursed demon sword tended to have that affect, he supposed.

"Thief, that fact that you still draw breath following the battle at Stone Gate tells me that giving you the Blade of Snagga was a good judgement call. Keep it. Carrying it seems to agree with you," Vader said, doing his best to suppress a snicker.

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