<font:Arial:16>      Ah, finally.  With Twitchy expelled from the scene, I felt ready to face a real warrior: someone with a bit of clout among the Omphr.  
      Omroth was a mysterious fellow: a curious middle-man who ranged about the galaxy trading in information and dissent.  His sword-play was not among the greatest, and his style was somewhat cautious, but I knew that real danger teetered on the edge of his blade.
      “You,” he said,  “accompany me to the Conclave.  It is your duty as a brother Omphr to witness the deployment of our new, darkest technology; and besides, if we join forces, we might have more chance of stealing it.”
      “’Roth,” I said. “Don’t you think we’re wasting our time with Conclaves and grand designs?  Isn’t it time for us to revert to our true calling?”
      He stared at me from behind his incongruous facecloth.  “If you want to return to the insanity of the ancient feudal way, then so be it.”
      “I wasn’t talking about that,” I clarified.  “I just thought we could duel, get drunk and watch some planet collisions.”
      “That’s not how things are done now,” he insisted.  “If you want to wield some power, you’ll have to start paying attention.  I’ve helped other Omphr to subvert the status quo, now it’s time for me to consolidate my position.”
      “I’ve heard talk of your influence,” I said, “but why should I trust you?  You’ve let me down before.”
      I could have sworn he smiled.
      “Then perhaps I should prove my sincerity,” he said, unsheathing his weapon.