# Bloodstone Falls



## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

Introduction:

The setting: Forgotten Realms, Western Damara, Present Day

The principal characters:

*Durnae Windbright –* Human Rogue from Baytown (Impiltur). A charismatic fast-talker, Durnae got into more trouble than he could get out of in Baytown, and has chosen to re-locate somewhere non-descript. The lure of solitude led him to Damara. He is a competent merchant and businessman, if a bit naïve and sheltered. He left Baytown in a hurry, and doesn’t know when he’ll be able to return.

* Oovie Bunter * – Halfling “opportunist” (Bard) from Rawlinswood. If the world were to believe him, Oovie is the greatest Halfling fighter, writer, tale-spinner, gambler, lover, singer, dancer, cook, brewer, rock-skipper, and sneak to have ever lived. To him, anything that has ever been done could have been done better, faster, cheaper, or with more creativity had a Halfling of his stature been involved. Oovie loves to talk more than anything, and he is almost never silent. He even recites epic poems and stories in his sleep. Oovie is in Damara because that is where the action is, and where his legend needs to be spread (preferably, by his own design).


*Chapter One
“Take my halfling… please!”*

	The merchant’s charter had mentioned, specifically, the words SUNDOWN and THE ROASTING TROLL INN. It was now well past sundown. Durnae waited patiently for the merchant’s foreman to arrive, anxious to begin his journey west to Bloodstone Pass and some long overdue anonymity. The events of the past month were tough to forget, and yet he was certain that he had been followed. He had hoped to shake his pursuers as he headed deeper and deeper into the Damaran tundra. But just this morning, he was sure that he saw an all-too-familiar face in what barely passed for a marketplace in the city of Valls. Yes, Speck was a hard man to shake.

	By now, Durnae had grown used to the Damaran version of punctuality. He had learned over the past month that Damaran’s thought little of timeliness as a trait. He knew, though, that Damaran’s were notoriously honest people, and that he could expect his new employer’s man sometime during the evening. 

	Carefully eyeing the somber crowd at the ‘Troll, Durnae found as hidden a table as he could and sat down. He had resigned himself to eating what the locals called “Dareth’s Stew”, a greasy mixture of rock-hard potatoes and strips of rothe jerky, served in a lumpy gravy over a slab of thick bread. He had eaten this particular “delicacy” at least 8 times in the past two weeks, as it was the only thing on the menu (when there was one). The meal tended to taste like his boots, boiled in ogre sweat, seasoned with dirt. The after effects left him up most of the night, swearing he wouldn’t eat Damaran food again. Damaran’s, it seemed, were as bad with their cooking as they were with keeping time.

	[Disinterested voice] – How can you eat that swill? It’s made of the worst part of the beast, let me tell you. You must be from out of town, cuz I’ve never seen a local eat that willingly. If I were you, I would have ordered the Yellow Rose Lamb Shanks. Never gone wrong there. See they take the lamb and raise it in their secret mountain monast….

	[Durnae] – (disturbed, as there is no one near him) Who? (he looks around…)

	[Voice] – Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Gotta take precautions now and then, see, cuz if I were to talk to you out in the open, I’d have two dozen men to ward off. Work isn’t all that plentiful around here, unless you want to crawl around in the mines looking for leftover bits of bloodstone. I’ve never understood the attraction, honestly. I mean the stones are pretty, but it ain’t worth what it used to be… why in my travels to Waterdee….

	[D] – (growing suspicious, trying not to be obvious, he scans the room) Show yourself. 

	[Voice] – Oh all right. Look up to the second floor, the top of the stairs. I’m the unbelievably fantastic looking fellow sitting there smoking his pipe. Name’s Oovie. But try not to be too obvious with your gawking, I know I’m spectacular to look at, but you don’t have to drool in your stew, ok?

	Durnae, looking up casually, saw a rather plain looking Halfling sitting near the top of the steps, smoking a pipe. The little man wore plain clothing, unadorned with any scarf or coat to protect him from the chill. The Halfling was looking down, packing his pipe with a new batch of weed. Durnae found himself staring at this little person, though he was by all means unremarkable.	

[D] – (Whispering, for no apparent reason and unsure of how he was being heard by Oovie across an empty but still noisy tavern) What is the meaning of this anyway? Are you the foreman I’m supposed to meet?

	[O] – Not quite, though I do work for him. He sent me to meet you, give you the details, and then make sure you don’t get too drunk or preoccupied with the women, as you Talls are always doing. You have the charter with you, I see. That thing is a golden key where we are going, my friend. Don’t misplace it and don’t get it stolen. Don’t go waving it around like you have been, or someone will doubtlessly bop you on the head for it. Seen it happen countless times. Anyway, finish your swill and then come to room 4 and we’ll smoke some of this Vaasan Deathroot I got from a friendly gnomish trader just the other day. Said it could take the stink off a troll, and I do believe he’s right. Fantastic stuff, this Deathroot, I must put a note in my journ…

	[D] – We? You mean we’ll be going together? The foreman said this was work for just one man. And where is he, the foreman? He’s supposed to have instructions for me and…

	[O] – You humans and your questions! Yeesh, it’s enough to drive a Halfling to drink. Which is a great suggestion, thanks, bring some mead with you to room 4 in a bit. Your treat? Much obliged, my lanky friend!


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## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

*Chapter 2: 
“Words you don’t understand, are all making sense tonight…” - Luna*

	Durnae grudgingly purchased a small keg of mead and grabbed two flagons before heading upstairs. He knew he would probably regret meeting this annoyingly pretentious Halfling, but the merchant’s charter wasn’t worth anything without a caravan of cargo to make it legitimate. It was strange to Durnae that a country so empty would require all travelers within its borders to carry papers.

	After cautiously checking to be sure he wasn’t followed, Durnae opened the door to room Four, just to the left of the stairs. He was met at the door with a fog of acrid smelling smoke. Hearing giggles off to his left, he addressed his host.

	[D] – I’m here, as you requested, with the mead.

	[O] – A friend to me you will surely be! [giggles], let’s drain that keg and order another!

	[D] – (coughing in the smoke)… Is there a window in here? The smoke is burning my insides… (cough)

	[O] – You humans, all that weight and not an ounce of stamina. This root is pretty good, but let me tell you if we were at The Foundry in my hometown, you’d be so out of your wits you’d think you were an elf! They say the tobacco there is enchanted by a great illusionist, and I don’t doubt it. I once spent an entire week in their taproom, dazed like I’ve never been, so dizzy I forgot to eat the whole week. And then this Halfling maiden with the finest set of…

[D] – Excuse me, but I don’t see how this is going to help me with my charter or getting to Bloodstone Village. I really am in quite a hurry.

	[O] – Oh bother, friend. We’re going to be traveling together, braving the open road, with a flock of merchants to boot. We’ll have a grand old time, but I make a point of never traveling with strangers, too many possibilities for treachery. No, I like to get acquainted with my co-workers, and I can’t think of a better way than some mead and some weed. Of course, some Bungalow Bread and a slice or two of mutton would be nice, eh. Maybe a little burgundy spiced apple sauce on the side, and some spiceberry pie for dess…

	[D] – Do you know anything about the merchants we’ll be traveling with? Or about the cargo? And when are we leaving?

	[O] – Listen, friend, we’ll get to Bloodstone Pass when we get there. Everything has been arranged and you needn’t worry about the details. Renda is a reputable man, he’ll make sure we’re well protected and well paid. I already told you, if you got the charter, you’ve got a free ride. So why not relax while you can in the warmth of this fine establishment. There’s ale, and food, and this wonderful weed. Every once in a while, I get this tingle in my spine that feels glorious, you must try it, I’m afraid I insist…

	[D] – (resigned to the fact that this will be a long night, and a long trip, he relents). I’m sure I should know better than this, but give me a pipe.

	Hours later, after long discussions about the possibilities of distant multi-verses, the exotic taste of mushrooms and spices, and the thrill of magic, Durnae and Oovie dozed off. They awoke the next morning uncomfortable and stiff after spending the night slumped in chairs. Shortly after waking…

	[O] – Ooooh, what a night! I can’t remember a thing, but let me tell you, those are the best nights. I tell you, that third keg of mead was almost more than you could handle. Of course, my bottomless stomach could have kept going if you had not passed out so quick…

[D] – Shhhh… I hear something…

	[Door latch jiggles, as if being picked]

	Durnae, senses alert from years of training on the streets, rolled to the side of the door, dagger drawn. Oovie, with a similar sense of urgency, muttered an arcane word and simply disappeared. The door opened slowly without a sound, and a black gloved hand grasped the edge of the wooden door. 

*The hand was large, and it wasn’t human…*


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## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

* Chapter 3 
"Fly by night, away from here…" *

The hand was scaly and slightly green. Durnae got a good look at the hand up close as the door swung towards him with a swift, sudden force. 

The heavy oak door slammed him up against the wall, pinning him before he could roll to the side. The door handle jammed up under his ribs, robbing him of his breath and the ability to scream. Breathless, he struggled against the pressure being applied on the other side of the door. 

A head appeared, briefly, around the corner of the door and Durnae caught a glimpse of two snake-like eyes set slightly above a large, triangular shaped nose. The eyes were yellow. 

The creature, whatever it was, had great strength. The snake creature reached out its scaly hand and grabbed Durnae’s throat in a tight vice grip. The snake man slowly released its hold on the door, giving it a nudge with a knee to force it closed. Suddenly, the room was quiet. 

Durnae struggled against his assailant’s grip, but without much success. His squirming only intensified the discomfort, and he soon resigned himself to the fact that he could not escape this assailant alone. 

He heard the slow hiss of a steel blade being released from its scabbard. 

As Durnae prepared for the worst, Oovie finally decided to act: 

[O] - (Begins incantations and appears suddenly across the room) Let my friend be! (finishes his incantations, and a thin blue line struck the snake-man between the shoulder blades). Now, Durnae! Run for it! 

Durnae felt the snake thing stiffen suddenly, and took the chance to deliver a swift kick to the creature’s midsection. His foot struck solid metal, as if the creature was armored. The snake man’s grip lessened slightly and Durnae rolled quickly from his grasp and to the side, drawing his sword in a swift, fluid motion. 

He began to advance on his assailant, but was surprised to find the creature standing in place, frozen. Durnae glanced at Oovie quickly, but the Halfling was already half out the door. 
[O] – Run, idiot! He won’t be still for long and we better not be here when my spell wears off. Grab your pack and lets run for it! 

[D] – (Quickly assessing the situation) It’s me he’s after, so lets split up… I’ll find you soon, don’t leave without me! 

Despite Oovie’s protestations, Durnae opened the foggy window and jumped out onto the snow covered roof. After getting his footing he ran across the roof’s spine to the edge of the building, where he jumped down into a pile of hay. He had no idea how long the mysterious snake eyed man would be held in place by Oovie’s enchantment, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Hurriedly, he jumped the nearby fence and sprinted cautiously over the frozen ground, taking precaution to avoid startling the spectating rothe that inhabited this pen. 

Pausing at the edge of the rothe habitat, frightened and more than a bit angry, Durnae got his wits about him. He’d have to leave town immediately, with or without Oovie or the merchant caravan. He didn’t have the time to wait for Renda’s arrangements, he needed to get away fast. 

And that required a horse, something that, thankfully, Valls had in great supply. Thinking quickly if he had seen any unprotected horse yards in the past two days, he prepared to make a run for it. But first, he had to make sure his path was clear. 

Peeking up from his hiding place behind a pig trough, he caught sight of the window he had just climbed through. The snake man’s shadow crossed the window several times, and he saw a second, heavily cloaked figure in the room, gesticulating wildly and tossing furniture around. The snake man appeared briefly, before pointing to the window. The cloaked man walked to the open window and stuck his head outside. 

Durnae recognized him immediately. Speck had indeed followed him to Damara, and had almost succeeding in capturing him. Only Oovie’s magics had saved Durnae from what would surely have been an unpleasant trip back to Baytown. 

Speck turned back to face the snake man, and Durnae was off, running for the nearest set of buildings. 

Ten minutes later he was on the road north to Bloodstone Pass on a spirited black horse. He had left a few coins in the stall to compensate the owner, albeit poorly, for the fine creature that now carried him swiftly on into unknown lands and an unknown fate.


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## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

*Chapter 4
“He’s going the distance, he’s going for speed…”*

Durnae rode his newly acquired horse hard through the rest of that day, pausing only briefly to choke down some barely edible rothe jerky. He wondered if Damarans ate any other meat besides rothe. He longed for a slab of mutton or sea bass seasoned with exotic spices. Instead, it was jerky through the day and a dinner of boiled oats and dried pullroot.

It had been hard, riding north into the great unknown without guidance or company. The path itself was clear enough, but the expansive, wide-open landscape was almost too open. There was no sign of life, no people, dwellings, nor herds of sheep. Endless nothingness. For miles and miles in every direction, Durnae saw little besides flat dirt, stubbly waist high bushes, and an occasional pile of rocks. Were he to encounter wolves or goblins on these plains he would have no place to hide, no place to seek shelter or protection. Durnae felt more and more alone as the protection and civilization of Valls grew more and more distant.

He cursed himself aloud for leaving so hastily without grabbing more supplies. His hard jerky and sack of oats would disappear in less than three days. The road to Bloodstone Pass was a long one, 7 days on the fastest of steeds, 12 or more by wagon. He would eventually be forced to hunt for food, and he hadn’t seen any suitable game in the past day.

And then, of course, there was the cold. Frigid and harsh are words that wouldn’t begin to describe the conditions he had endured during his first day on the Damaran plains. Great gusts of wind so powerful they nearly stalled his powerful horse in full run, bits of ice and dirt borne on the wind pelting him relentlessly, and the steady disheartening presence of dark gray storm clouds looming before him all served to sap his conviction and strength. He traveled barely 5 miles that day as he was forced to stop often to rest his spirited horse. 

But he could not stop for long because he knew that Speck wouldn’t be far behind. Speck was sure to be better supplied, of that Durnae was certain, and would probably bring companions to help him in his search. Durnae was justifiably afraid of the man, as Speck had the reputation of being a relentless tracker who always found his target.

So when, midday through the second day of his trek, a figure appeared off the empty horizon behind him, mounted and gaining fast, Durnae spurred his horse on faster. Whoever his pursuer turned out to be, Durnae was surely not going to sit and wait for it to catch him.

He pushed his horse as much as he could, trying to expand the distance between him and the lone rider following him. After an hour of hard riding, but with his unknown follower gaining rapidly, he spied a small shack at the side of the road, maybe a mile ahead. Smoke rolled out of a chimney and a single animal was tethered to the side of the building.
Durnae figured that this hut was his only chance of protection. Whoever was in that shack was bound to be friendlier than Speck. He slowed his horse as he approached the building and eyed the beast tied up outside. It looked like no other animal Durnae had yet seen. It stood 6’ at the shoulder and was covered with long strips of matted brown hair that ended in ball-like clumps. The creature had a horned head, similar to a goat, and long sturdy legs. It grimaced at Durnae as he approached, and looked for all the world like an unsavory, ill-tempered beast.

And it stank. From hundreds of feet away Durnae caught wind of an impossibly pungent odor so strong he could barely breathe. He could taste the stench as if he had licked the beast. It smelled like a mixture of horse dung, burnt hair and stale year old sweat. He was coughing and nearly retching by the time he had circled the small building and had tied his horse to a pole on the opposite side of the shack.

The door was locked, but not very sturdy. He pounded once and glanced to his right.
The distant rider was no longer distant. He had a minute, maybe two at the most, before  Speck would be upon him. Gathering his cloak about him, Durnae prepared to slam into the door. Just then it swung open to reveal a jovial dwarf with a foaming flagon in his hand.

“Weeeehll met trahveler… C’mon in for a…” the dwarf said politely as Durnae burst past him and slammed the door shut. Durnae caught a glimpse of a roaring fire and a sizable feast laid out upon a rickety table before he took up a defensive position to the right of the door, sword drawn… 

The thundering of hooves on frozen ground came to a sudden stop. Durnae could hear the mount breathing heavily in the frosty air. Sensing danger, Durnae’s Dwarven companion set down his mug and fingered his axe.

A pair of feet hit the ground just outside the door…


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## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

*Chapter 5 
"A Dinner with Mirny" *

A pair of booted feet hit the ground... and all went silent. Even the banshee wind sputtered and grew quiet. 

Durnae's Dwarven companion strapped on his shield, the only noise to pierce the silence of anticipation. "What did you bring to dinner, boy" He whispered gruffly "I wasn't expecting anybody" 

"Neither was I" Durnae replied. "I don't even know who it is, but he's sure to be unfriendly. I'm sorry to have brought this upon you, traveler." 

Durnae took the few moments he had left to attempt to complete a pair of incantations. Where he had developed arcane talent, he was unsure. It had manifested itself suddenly a few weeks before, during a fight with a ferocious, hungry brown bear. The fight had gone poorly, with Durnae forced to his knees, before a great rush of energy flowed up within him. 

The sensation was new and frightening, but somehow empowering. Not fully aware of what he was doing, he stuttered a few arcane words and touched the bear as it was charging towards him. A great blast of energy flowed from his hand into the bear's body, dropping it in its tracks and scorching its fur. 

Since that day, Durnae had tried to duplicate the incantations, with little success. Try as he might, he was unable to gather the energy within his blood. Frustrated, he had nearly given up, certain for sure that he would never be able to summon that power again. 

Until now. In the moments before a thunderous knock rattled the door, Durnae felt a surge of adrenaline. Incantations and gestures suddenly filled his thoughts. He completed two quick spells, one that would protect him from harm, and the other a powerful jolt of eldritch power. This last power he held within his very skin, feeling power tingle throughout his forearms. 

BOOM BOOM BOOM. The door rattled and Durnae's horse neighed. 

"Here we go, son" said the dwarf, as yet unnamed. 

The door was splintered a moment later, shards flying throughout the room as the rotted, flimsy wood disintegrated. In the doorway stood an impressive figure, a man dressed in gleaming chainmail, a polished greatsword in one hand. 

The man wore the Silver Griffon of the Damaran High Guard. He shouted in a gruff voice "Drop your weapons! This is the High Guard!" 

After a tense moment where all involved surveyed the scene, the dwarf laughed, a deep rumbling from the bottom of his belly. 

"Well S**t!," cursed the dwarf politely "it's only the High Guard! Here I thought you'd brought me an ogre or something boy!" The dwarf set down his axe, his face beaming with good humour. 

"What can we do for you, sir? Care for some mutton and ale? Tis a cold night indeed for such a long ride!" 

Durnae stood silently by the small fire burning in a shallow pit. Unsure of what to make of their visitor, he instead concentrated on containing the wild burning of the magic in his veins. 

"Hold the chatter, dwarf. This is not a routine stop, unfortunately, or I'd take you up on your offer" lamented the Guard, glancing at the chunk of mutton resting above the flames. 

"I'm afraid I'm here on official business. Sir," he said, turning towards Durnae. "You are hereby placed under arrest, on the charges of horse theft and vandalism" 

The dwarf whistled his surprise as the Guardsman moved cautiously but with great authority toward Durnae, sword drawn and visage grim.


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## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

*Chapter 6 
“But a Horse is a Horse, of course…” *

“Whoa! Horse theft!! Boy, you sure are in lots o’ trouble. You’re not from around here are ya’?” said the surprised dwarf. "Even the stupidest Damaran knows not to steal a man's horse! Hell, you'd be better off stealing a man's wife!" 

The guard approached with great care. “I don’t want any trouble here. Let’s take it nice and easy and nobody gets hurt” he said, adding emphasis with a tiny wave of his sword. 

The sword wave worked, and Durnae made his decision. This man could kill him easily. Durnae gritted his teeth. The energy in his arms needed release. Already little bolts of blue fire were dancing between his fingers. “Sir Griffon, I must warn you to take a quick step back and give me but a moment and I will go with you peacefully,” he said, holding up his hands for the guard to see. 

The Griffon had fought spell casters before, and he knew enough of their talents to be wary. The energy dancing on this kid’s arms was reason enough to pause. Seeing the look of desperation in the thief’s eyes, he took a single step back. “Aye. Release your sorcery and disarm yourself.” 

Durnae turned to the makeshift hearth, and placed his hands on the ash covered stone. A flash of energy lit up the room, casting strange shadows among the beams above. Durnae felt the surge of magical force pulse through him and into the stone, a quick powerful release. He was sweating from the concentration it had taken to keep the spell in for so long. 

“Well S&#t,” said the dwarf, up until this moment an amazed bystander, “I ain’t seen me a sorcerer in years. What an interesting night this turned out to be!" 

“Ok son. Let’s get you ready to ride. I’m afraid I’m going to have to bind and gag you. It’s standard procedure for sorcerers.” He tossed some ropes to Durnae. “Tie yourself as best you can. I'll tighten the ropes in a moment. You make one false move and I’ll snap your hands and cut out your tongue, understand? I got no time for that magical s@#t.” 

“I understand” said Durnae with as much resignation as his voice could register. He wouldn’t make it back to Valls, that was for sure. Speck was in Valls, as was the law and an angry horse trader. No, his only chance at escape lay in the next hour. He tried to think of a way he could outwit the Griffon while he tied the ropes loosely around his wrists, waiting for an opportunity. 

“It sure is a long ride back to Valls” suggested the dwarf helpfully “and cold and windy too. Hell, I wouldn’t be caught out there right now, the wind’s kickin up a storm no doubt.” Sinking his knife into a slab of mutton and potato, the dwarf began to chew noisily. “If it were up to me, I’d stay the night and start fresh in the morning. The boy isn’t going anywhere if you lock up the horses and the brakk.” 

“I don’t take advice from civilians, dwarf, especially about my work. We head out tonight, just as soon as my horse gets some rest. You have one last hour of freedom, son, I suggest you spend it wisely,” said the Griffon as he took up position near the door, hand on his hilt. Both Durnae and the dwarf could see, however, the hunger in the guard’s eyes as he eyed the juices dripping from the roast over the fire. 

The dwarf continued smoothly, “Suit yourself, but this mutton is mighty tender. And the ale is Chultan Stout. You ever had a mug of Jungle Ale, Sir Griffon? It’s the strongest I’ve come across. And to think it’s made by humans. Normally they know nothing of ales and meads, but somebody down there in those steamy jungles found a way to make a fine, dark ale. My insides squeal in protest every time I chug one down, but it’s a damn fine experience.” The dwarf took a sloshing, noisy gulp. 

“How about one for the road, Sir?” The dwarf poured a frosty mug for the guard and set it next to a plate of steaming mutton, freshly sliced from the roast. 

The overpowering combination of meat and ale was too much for the Griffon to bear. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a single mug,” he said with guilt in his eyes. 

“The two of you stay there and don’t make any sudden moves. It’ll be a long ride for both of you if you try anything.” 

“And dwarf, let me see your papers” 

“Gladly, there all right here,” said the dwarf, fumbling in his pack. He found some papers and set them down next to the ale. “A Rover’s Charter from Bloodstone Pass, signed by Meldane Forsythe himself. Yup, it’s my job to roam these plains, looking for deposits of Bloodstone. It’s all there in the papers” he said with a nod. 

“Well you better be legitimate, or I’ll have to ask you to come to Valls, too” the guard said, as he grabbed his mutton, ale and papers, and retreated to the doorway. 

“Mirny, eh? Got a last name, Mirny?” said the guard as he glanced at the papers. 

“Naah. Not in my clan’s custom” 

“Eh? Strange, every dwarf I ever met had lots of clan names and words tacked on to the end of their title, like Axebreaker and Hammergiant, and stuff like that. But you’re just Mirny, hmm?” the guard said. 

A severe gust of wind blasted through the open doorway just then, sending a shower of dust and ice through the small room. It grew suddenly frigid in the shack as the warmth of the fire evaporated. A quiet silence followed the wind as it howled off. 

All three of them ate quietly for a while. Durnae was tired from a hard journey, pushing his steed into the fierce wind. The Griffon, he could tell, was fatigued as well. Maybe if he stalled, thought Durnae, the fatigue will be too much to bear? Maybe he could sneak off during the night. It was worth a try… 

“Will I get a chance to plead my case, Sir Griffon? I am unfamiliar with the laws of this land, but in Impiltur I would get a chance to tell things the way I see it,” Durnae said, trying to sound innocent, “I’m fleeing for my life from a man in Valls.” 

“I don’t care about your stories, boy. I’m just doin my job, see. Captain told me to track down a youngish boy on a black Narfellian colt, and that’s you. Easy to follow, really, the horse’s hooves aren’t even shoed, boy, and they leave a huge track in the sand that way. You’re damn lucky you didn’t break the horses legs, the penalty for that is more sev…” 

*“GO TO HELL YOU FILTHY HORSE F@*&#ER!” *

The dwarf began shouting with no warning, surprising everyone in the room. He tossed his remaining dinner at the guard, leapt on the table, and drew his axe. 

*“I’LL PUT AN AXE THROUGH YOUR SKULL, YOU KOBOLD LOVING &*^% $@#$%ER!”*


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## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

*Chapter 7 
“Well we're travelling light, gonna speed through the night, like it's nothing at all, yeah, it's nothing at all" -Luna *

*“YOU’RE MAKING A STUPID F$(*IN MISTAKE, DWARF”* said Griffon, sword quickly at his side. 

*“AND DON’T YOU EVEN FLINCH, BOY, OR I’LL SLICE YOUR ARMS OFF!”* 

Durnae disobeyed without hesitation and dove for cover behind the table, trying desperately to release the ropes that secured his wrists. The ropes seemed tighter than they had been before, and the knot was one he hadn't tied. Could it be that these ropes tied themselves? Maybe that was why the Griffon hadn't even checked them to make sure they were tight. 

Durnae continued to struggle while keeping one eye on the brawl that was developing in front of him. 

The dwarf was chanting a war hymn, a baritone rumble from the back of his throat. But it was like no war chant Durnae had ever heard. It was more of a contented humming, much like the cooks used to do as they prepared the meals back on Fairwater Homestead. It seemed odd for a warrior in extreme peril to be purring like a pleased cat. 

The Griffon advanced slowly, shield and sword readied. With a quick snap of his neck he closed the visor on his helmet. 

CLANG! Sword and axe collided, sparks and twisted shards of metal flying as the two combatants brought their strength to bear. The dwarf was off the table now, ducking and weaving under the heavy swings of the Griffon. Blows were parried, grunts exchanged, and armor creased. The room was suddenly warm, as if the anger of the fighters was heating the very air. 

A well aimed overhand chop by Griffon caught Mirny unprotected, cutting deeply into his shoulder. Blood soaked through his cloak quickly, spreading down the dwarf’s armored chest. 

“OK M#*$ER F#@@$R, Now you’re gonna feel it!” shouted Mirny, pain in his voice but a crazed sneer on his face. 

As the Griffon took a step back to prepare for the dwarf’s fury, Durnae struck. Hands still tied behind his back, he kicked a wobbly chair into the Griffon’s path, causing him to stumble briefly.

He crawled quickly under the table to avoid any immediate counterstrike. 

The Griffon’s stumble was just enough of an opportunity for Mirny to strike, and he landed a minor blow to the warrior’s shoulder with the flat of his axe. In fact, it was hardly more than a tap. 

Durnae, trying unsuccessfully to loosen his bonds and with ropes chaffing his wrists, regained his feet on the opposite side of the table. 

He stood just in time to see Mirny stepping backwards, grinning. “That should just about do it," he said, grinning at the huge man in front of him. He laid down his axe on the table and folded his arms across his chest. 

The Griffon, unsure of this new development, took one step forward with sword raised to strike the unprotected dwarf. He opened his mouth to speak and paused. A strange look came into his eyes, a look that slowly blossomed into a grimace of fear. 

He stumbled suddenly backwards into the wall, face twisted in agony. 

“Huuuunnnnnnn, Huuuuuunnnnn” he gasped with great effort, as if his chest were constricting. 

He made one last feeble swing at the dwarf, who sidestepped easily, and then his eyes rolled downward and his eyelids fluttered. He fell to the ground in a mass of jingling chain mail and flopping limbs. 

With the Patrolman laying prone, twitching spasmodically but quietly, Mirny had turned his attention to carefully replacing the cork on the small keg of ale that had been disturbed in the fight. “Well don’t just stand there staring, youngster. Let’s get you out of them ropes.” 

“But. How. What...” Durnae said, unable to find the words to describe what he had just seen. 

“I’m going to need you to remain very calm right now, boy. You get too excited, you end up looking like our friend over there, understand?” said the dwarf, suddenly calm and jovial. 

“You both ate the same mutton, all right… and it had a little bit of Mirny’s Special Seasoning on it, if you catch my drift. You just take it very slow for a few hours, and you’ll be just fine.” The dwarf moved behind Durnae and began to slice through the ropes with a sharp knife. 

“Damn ropes, seem to resist the blade. Hold still while I try the *other* knife,” he grumbled, picking up his axe. He could see the concern in Durnae’s eyes. 

“Don’t you worry bout a thing, it should pass from your system by morning. Just don’t get all rambunctious, or, well…” he said with a nod in the direction of the fallen Guardsman. 

“Oh Gods” said Durnae, obviously shaken “what have you done? You’ve killed a Griffon.” 

“Now stop right there, boy. Weren’t you listenin? Don’t get yourself all worked up over this,” said Mirny as he sliced through the ropes, “cuz he ain’t exactly dead. He’s just resting, and likely will be for a few days. When he wakes up and finds his horse gone, he’ll have a long walk to go with his aching head and wheezy lungs.” 

The dwarf looked at Durnae’s naïve, childlike face and laughed. It was a cruel, harsh laugh. “Grab your sword, boy, we’ll need it where we’re going.” 

Durnae gathered his sword and began to think that he had made a *really* big mistake coming to Damara.


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## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

*Chapter 8
“Out here on the perimeter there are no stars…”*

While Durnae spent a few moments gathering his thoughts and his possessions, Mirny cleaned up his supplies and emptied the Griffon’s pockets. They packed in silence.

Durnae was a bit unnerved by this Dwarf. In just the past hour since he had met Mirny, he had been arrested, had his hands tied, fought a Silver Griffon, been unwittingly poisoned, and then laughed at for his naiveté. The dwarf was jovial at times, gruff and unpredictable at others. Durnae wasn’t sure he could trust him, or that he even liked him.

Mirny, on the other hand, showed no signs that any of the wild events of the past hour had had an effect upon him. He hummed the same tune now as he had during the fight. He wore rugged, shabby garments that spoke of weeks spent on the tundra. As Durnae studied him, the dwarf spent a few moments applying salve to his injured shoulder.

Durnae considered his options. Traveling alone didn’t seem like the best idea. The tundra was frigid and empty, and an outsider could easily starve or become lost. He certainly couldn’t travel back to Valls and into the hands of Speck or the snake-like man or the horse trader that wanted him arrested. He needed to get as far away from this shack as possible.

It seemed that following this strange dwarf was his only option. He could only hope that their path together led someplace quiet, lonely, and safe. Plus at the moment, he feared what would happen to him if the poison he had ingested were to kick in.

Mirny came back into the hut after checking on the mounts. “We’ll be headin off the path and across the flats about a half mile up the road.. It’ll be cold fer ya at night, of course, and the ground will be unstable. We’d better let that colt of yers go, it’d just twist a knee in the first badger hole anyway,” grumbled Mirny. “It’s a shame too, cuz from the looks of him, he’d fetch a healthy price in Bloodstone Pass.”

“I am indebted to you, Mirny. You saved me from all sorts of trouble here tonight. I have little to offer you besides the colt. He’s yours if you want him,” replied Durnae “and I’m afraid I’ll make a terrible traveling companion.”

“Naw, don’t you worry friend. By the time we get to the Pass, I’ll have you countin hare sh%t and tastin the wind,” Mirny chuckled. “And that horse of yers is stolen property. Valuable stolen property. I’d be stupid to ride that thing. Sh&t, and Moradina would kick me in the nuggets if I tried to ride another."

Moradina, it turned out, was Mirny’s brakk, the unsavory mount tied to a pole outside the shack. Even the Griffon’s powerful steed, tied to a pole next to Moradina, found the creature an unfit companion. The horse was spitting and pawing at the ground and trying for all its might to back away from the aromatic beast.

“She has no friends but me, it seems,” said Mirny as he adjusted the saddle. “People. Horses. Plants. Small rocks. They all seem to take unkindly to her. Don’t know why, really, she’s as loyal and sweet as they come.” He stroked the creatures tangled fur for a moment. He laid his axe across his lap and watched as Durnae gathered the horse’s reins.

“Ye should probably leave everything official lookin’ here with the Griffon. Don’t want to stir up any suspicions where we’re goin’” suggested Mirny. “And keep yer eyes open. All sorts of nasty critters live in these parts.”

“Wonderful. I can’t wait to make their acquaintance,” smirked Durnae. He had slowly regained his composure. It helped to be away from the body of the Griffon, who they had left near the dwindling fire. 

They rode slowly across the frozen ground away from the shack. The night was calm and quiet, the sky overcast and forbidding. Only the occasional gust of wind broke their pace. 

Durnae paid special attention to his surroundings. He was unfamiliar with almost everything in this country, from the people to the geography. Several times Mirny guided him around a patch of frozen ground. 

“Ground’s so frozen here that a stone can splinter when it’s stomped on by a horse.” He picked up a needle thin piece of jagged stone to illustrate his point. “One of these splinters gets deep into a hoof and you can forget about riding that horse for a while, maybe ever again.”

They rode in silence, talking only when necessary. It was a comfort to Durnae that Mirny seemed to know where he was going. He wasn’t sure how the dwarf knew, as there were no stars visible in the sky, but Mirny rode confidently into the night, watching the ground and the surrounding rocks. 

Durnae did wish, though, that he could ride upwind of the ill smelling beast that Mirny rode.

“She may be sweet and loyal to you, Mirny, but does she have to smell like a rotting ogre?” asked Durnae with a grimace when they had stopped for a moment.

“Aye, she does. That stench keeps the wolves away. They love brakk meat fer some reason. Track one for miles and miles, they will. I lost half a dozen mounts to the pack before I traded for Moradina here. All ya gotta do is mix in some stinkroot in her feed, and she reeks enough that a wolf would rather eat its own leg.”

“You’ll get used to it in time,” Mirny smiled. ”By the time we get to the Pass, you’ll be huddling up next to her at night fer warmth.”

“Oh, I’d rather not,” replied Durnae.

“Suit yerself.” Mirny said with a knowing wink.

Hours passed and dawn broke majestically over the mountains, spreading the glow of the suns through the haze above and illuminating the dusty terrain around them in a maroon bath. 

Durnae slumbered as he rode, waking only when Mirny said something or if his horse stumbled. He was still dozing heavily when Mirny whistled. 

The dwarf was squatting behind a boulder off to Durnae’s right about 500 feet. His brakk was lying on her belly next to him. He gestured quickly toward a column of dust rising from the ground in the distance. The fast moving cloud glittered in the afternoon sunlight as it bore down upon them.

“WHAT IS IT?” Durnae shouted over the wind.

* TUNDRA STORM!*


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## Broccli_Head (Aug 16, 2002)

Yes! I found this thread again. I guess you reworked it?

FYI, I am a glutton for tales of the Realms. My Story Hour also takes place, but further South! Looking forward to more adventures of Mirny and Durnae.


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## byxbee (Aug 16, 2002)

I've just been slacking, and then with the whole message board mess, i didn't keep it up and the thread disappeared. Then i got a new computer and had trouble copying files over... blah blah blah.

I'm gonna try to write installments more often.


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## byxbee (Aug 17, 2002)

*Chapter 9
"Under the table and dreaming"*

He gestured quickly toward a column of dust rising from the ground in the distance. The fast moving cloud glittered in the afternoon sunlight as it bore down upon them.

“WHAT IS IT?” Durnae shouted.

“TUNDRA STORM!” was the reply, barely audible over the howling winds.

Unfamiliar with this foreign landscape, Durnae stumbled around looking for shelter. He found a small pile of medium sized rocks stacked in a triangle. Underneath the pile he spied a small ledge, barely big enough for him to crouch under. He darted inside just as the storm swept over him. He pulled the horse in after him, hoping to protect its head from the storm, but the stubborn beast would have nothing of the tiny hole under the overhang. It fought him with all its strength, nearly pulling Durnae from his sanctuary and into the screaming winds.

And then the sky fell. 

Fist sized rocks began showering down upon Durnae, striking him in his outstretched arms. The stones struck his hideout like a thundering symphony, bouncing from rock to rock before falling to the ground before him, spinning on the dusty ground. Durnae, tiring from his struggle with the horse, let go of the reins when a particularly large rock struck his right temple.

The pain was intense, his vision blurred. He staggered backward holding the side of his skull and screamed in agony. He fell to one knee, pulling his cloak up to protect his head from further attacks. The horse, flanks pelted with stones and eyes brimming with fear, reared up on its hind legs and whinnied in horror.

Suddenly, Mirny was there. The dwarf appeared from behind the rocks, blanket in hand. In a flash the ragged dwarf threw the worn cloth over the horse’s head and grabbed the reins before the beast could bolt. Reaching into his tunic, ignoring the rain of earth about him, Mirny snatched a sharp looking object and jammed it up under the blanket. It was bloody when he drew it back and stabbed the horse again.

Durnae, body reeling from the pain, watched this scene unfold before him as the wind began to howl even louder. Swirling eddies of frozen dirt and ice danced before the makeshift shelter. It was suddenly very cold. Each breath was a challenge. His struggle for survival was made harder still by the stinging blasts of wind that coated the hideout with a thick layer of earth, threatening to bury Durnae if he did not move soon.

Seconds after being stabbed, the horse calmed down, its tail swishing lazily in the maelstrom, ignoring the rocks and pain. Mirny, holding his cloak above him, tumbled over next to his fallen companion. He looked for all the world like he had tumbled out of Hell itself, covered in ash and clothing ripped in a dozen places.

“CAN YA WALK BOY?! WE HAVE TO GET YA ON YER FEET OR YOU’LL BE BURIED ALIVE!!”

“Nay, Mirny… go on…” was all he could manage to whisper as the pain swept from his skull down through his spine, sending daggers of stinging pain into his hands and feet. A severe gust of wind blasted the shelter at that moment, filling Durnae’s mouth with tundra soil.

The last thing he saw as the darkness claimed him was Mirny reaching for his dagger.


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## Broccli_Head (Aug 21, 2002)

byxbee said:
			
		

> *Chapter 9
> The last thing he saw as the darkness claimed him was Mirny reaching for his dagger. *



*

Get him Mirny! I didn't like that halfling anyway *


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## drs (Aug 22, 2002)

Good to see your continuing byxbee, great stuff!


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## byxbee (Oct 1, 2002)

*Life can be a drag....*

Chapter 10

The last thing he saw as the darkness claimed him was Mirny reaching for his dagger. 

And then his senses failed him and all he could see was complete blackness. The sound of the howling winds, the stinging sand, and the smell of the scattered earth all faded as he slipped into unconsciousness.

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Meanwhile…

The caravan moved slowly. The road they followed was merely a wide path of frozen soil from which the larger boulders had been removed. Potholes and snowdrifts still covered the road in spots, forcing the wagons to detour off the road, where there was always the risk of breaking a wheel.

Only those riding on horses were spared the roughness of the land, the bounces and lurches that made wagon travel uncomfortable. For some, however, wagon travel was unplanned and most definitely unwelcome…

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about, it isn’t like I’m gonna run away or anything. Look at these tiny little legs, how far do you think I’d get? I mean, really, can’t you at least loosen the ropes a little bit? They’re damaging my outfit! I don’t know what kind of halfling-nappers you guys think you are, but you’re doing it all wrong. When I was captured by Zhents outside of Mistleda…”

“Oh would you shut up! I can’t imagine anybody being more annoying,” said the man Durnae had called Speck, “and I’ve told you multiple times how you can get out of those ropes. Perhaps you are much more skilled at prattling than you are at listening.”

“Tell me where the boy went and you’ll have your freedom.” Speck sat back on a comfortable looking pillow as Oovie flopped around on the hard wagon floor before him. Speck was whittling a large piece of wood into a coiled serpent. “I don’t see what is staying your tongue, Master Oovie, you barely know the boy and you can’t possibly have any loyalty to him. I’ve promised you gold, women, and a horse, and still you resist. Tell me, what is it about the boy that makes you so steadfast in your resolve?”

“Trust me, Mr. Speck, I don’t know a thing, “ said Oovie “except that he has no stomach for ale or a pipe. Your assistant, who I might say is the most hideous looking thing I’ve ever seen in my many years, scared the boy away before we could even talk business. Really, if you just wanted to capture him I can think of many better ways than charging through a door in the middle of the morning. Why, when I was part of a Sembian pirate brigade, I once captu…”

“For the love of gold! Don't you ever shut up?"

"Zyn, untie his hands.” Speck nodded at Zyn with a disgusted look. Zyn stood at the edge of the wagon near a small metal cage. Occasionally, Oovie had seen the creature reach into the cage and draw out a squealing mouse and devour it without hesitation. 

The snake-man moved quickly, untying the rope from Oovie’s hands. “Well now we’re getting somewhere, Mister Speck. Despite your obvious lack of decency and manners, I can tell you have intelligence. Now if you don't mind, I think I’ll head back to Valls and get some rest at the Troll. Leaving in a hurry isn’t my style, you know, and I left my favorite pipe in the… HEY!” 

A suddenly airborne Oovie hit the frosted ground with a tiny yet spectacular thud, his ankles attached to the back of the wagon by a 10’ rope.

“Maybe a few miles of ice and stone will loosen your tongue, maggot" was the last Oovie heard before the sound of his own hide scraping the ground drowned out all other noise.


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## drs (Oct 1, 2002)

Great! Hope it gets more regular byxbee .


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## Broccli_Head (Oct 1, 2002)

I agree with drs and here's a BUMP to encourage more posts!


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## byxbee (Oct 2, 2002)

I'll do my best guys. Life hasn't been too kind the past few months, but things look better now. I'll keep posting them as i finish them.


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