# Knightfall's Short Story Thread



## Knightfall (Nov 3, 2002)

*The Tiger and the Storm*

_Prologue_
David had lived on his family’s stedding at the edge of Davial’s Hollow for all his eight summers but had always been obsessed with the outside world.  His mother would often scold him for forgetting about his chores to play ‘warrior’ in the woods.  But he would simply tell her that a great adventurer has no time for lowly work when there were orcs to chase and dragons to slay.

And when the Hermit had come to the hollow, David had become considerably worse.  The Hermit was a strange old man that had taken up residence in an old tower in the Tharwood, near David’s family stedding.  David’s adventurous spirit often led him to imagine the old man brewing potions and casting spells to charm the squirrels and rabbits that always seemed to follow him everywhere.

During that summer and fall, David tried to convince his friend Suzie that the old man of the Tharwood was up to no good.  “I tell you, he's a powerful sorcerer come to charm all your puppies and turn them into monsters."

"That is the most ignorant thing I've heard you utter."  She was always trying to make him feel small and unimportant just because she was a summer older than he was.  "My mother has met him and told me that he's the nicest elderly gentleman she's ever met."

"Aha!  He has ensorcelled your mother,” David crossed his arms over his chest in triumph.  “And your puppies are next, Suzie."

All of a sudden, she leapt forward and shoved David into a bramble bush behind him.  "Oh, I just hate you!  Don't ever speak to me again!"  With that, she turned and stormed away in a huff.  David was absolutely humiliated, a brave warrior defeated in hand to hand combat by a mere girl.

_Rite and Writ_
The autumn solstice had arrived and the leaves of the Tharwood lay scattered about in patches of orange and yellow amongst the carts of the festival grounds.  David enjoyed watching the jugglers and acrobats that had traveled all the way across the hollow from Meriton.  They leapt and pranced about making funny faces at the younger children, causing them to squeal with delight at every turn.

David knew that the other boys his age would chide him for taking part in kiddy fun.  He has so many fond memories of Tiker the Tantalizing, the juggler that he had loved to watch when he was younger.  Tiker had referred to the children as ‘you lovely small ones’ which was ironic since he had been a halfling and not much larger than most of his audience.

Thinking of Tiker made David sad.  The halfling juggler had passed away five years ago during the cold winter months and it hurt him immensely when he'd learned of the juggler's passing.  He had known that the jolly little halfling had been getting long in tooth but it seemed so sudden, so pointless.  The spry little fellow had years of life left but the cold has no mercy in Davial’s Hollow.

David cracked a smile as one of the tumblers lost his footing and tripped over one of his fellows.  The kids howled with laughter at the sight as the young man struggled to his feet and bowed graciously to the children gathered as if they were the sons and daughters of royalty, instead of farmers and woodcutters.

He slowly backed away from the ring of children as not to break the actor’s concentration.  Then he spun about and strolled through the rest of the festival.  His mind quickly turned to others things.  One thing in particular, today he took part in the Rite.  He had waited almost fourteen and a half summers for this day and he wasn’t going to be late.  The Rite was his passage into apprenticeship with one of the local craftsmen.

He wanted to be Marrab the Lantern’s choice, as did all the other boys taking the Rite.  If Marrab chose you, it is a one way ticket out of the hollow. Marrab’s a merchant and minstrel by trade who has made it big but comes back to the hollow each year for the Rite.  Because of his station and fame he always goes first, always.  Yes, David had waited a long time for this day.

He made his way past the tables of sweetmeats and the other food that the ladies of the hollow had so carefully prepared for this year’s solstice.  Mrs. Gawon tried to coax him with one of his old favorites – sugar leaves.  He shook his head and pulled out his pockets so that she could see that he hadn’t any coin to buy it with, then he quickly moved on, passing the stalls and tents of several local merchants from all over the hollow.

No point in upsetting to the old woman, for he had lost interest in such treats a long time ago.  He had lost a lot inside since his mother had died three summers ago.  He had never realized how much she had meant to him until she was gone.  His father had remained emotionless about her death and had immediately set upon making David his entire existence.   He was determined to either apprentice the boy or marry him off once he was old enough.  And if David didn’t become apprenticed this year during the Rite he’d be doomed to marry a local girl and spend the rest of his days stuck in the hollow.

Such thoughts made him hurry along faster than he should have, running through the Dancing Circle recklessly.  He didn’t see the girl in front of him until it was too late.  He slammed into her at a full speed and the two went down in a heap right in the middle of the dance.  Startled gasps quickly turned into giggles and then full hysterics.  David’s ears were burning at the sound and he knew that he’d never live this down.

Then he noticed the girl he had ran into.  “Oh no.”

“David!  You clod, you- you- you’ve ruined my dress you brute!  Won’t you ever grow up?”  Suzie stared at him, her eyes burning into him.  This was one argument he could not win.

Suzie had grow out of her tomboy stage fairly quickly but still had a quick temper.  The two had grown apart over the years and Suzie had embraced her womanhood without question.  She went to every dance and event, desperately trying to catch herself a suitor.  Not that she was an unattractive girl.  In fact, she was the beauty of the hollow and every young man’s head turned when she went by.  Well, almost everyone, David did see how beautiful she had become but could never get past the fact that this was the girl he had roughhoused with only six to seven years ago.  No, David still saw the same dirty little girl whose headlocks had been legendary.

He brushed himself off and offered his hand to help her up.  But she just scowled at him and took the hand of Jeffrey Winkler, a local boy she fancied as of late.  David rolled his eyes and shook his head in disgust.  “Well, I’d say I’m sorry but you probably would just spit in my face.  So I’ll get out of your way and if all goes well at the Rite today, out of your life as well.”

He started to push through the crowd that had gathered but Suzie wouldn’t let it go.  “You get back here and take your punishment like a man!  I demand a Challenging.”  She turned and batted her eyes at the Winkler boy.  “Jeffrey, will you be my champion?”

“It would be an h-“

David started laughing.  He couldn’t help himself.  “A Challenging, where the hell do you think this is Suzie, Cabaret?  The Challenging is not the way of the hollow, you know that.”

David turned and locked eyes with his old playmate.  “I am not going waste my time fighting Jeffrey just so you can feel like a Lady in the Baron’s Court.  You’re a farmer’s daughter Suzie, not a princess.”

David’s words cut through the air like a sword and the crowd went silent.  Jeffrey stepped towards him, rolling up his sleeves.  “Why you crass little bastard!  I’m going-”

“You’re going to do nothing Jeffrey.  You come one step closer and I swear I’ll kill you.”  David kept his voice low and calm in response to Jeffrey’s threat.  The boys and girls gathered around backed away slowly.  They knew that tone it was the same as David’s father.  It said ‘I dare you to make this personal.’

Jeffrey stared into David’s cold blue eyes and began to shake.  As he took a step back Suzie grabbed his arm and spun him around.  “You coward, don’t let him intimidate you!  I know him, his bark is worse then his bite!  Ever since his mother died-”

David lost his temper.  “Don’t you dare bring her into this, you little harlot!  My mother was twice the woman you will ever be!”

His voice rose above everyone within thirty paces and a few of the younger children scurried away frightened and crying.  Raising his voice finally attracted the attention of several adults near the circle that had seen this sort of adolescent cawing before and had been content to let it play out.  Realizing that it was getting out of hand, they quickly moved in to keep Jeffery from charging into what surely would have been the beating of his life.  Suzie’s mother pulled her aside and scolded her for acting improper and unladylike.

Andro Rourak, the local blacksmith, pulled David away from the circle.  “Come along lad.  I’ll escort you to the Rite.  And don’t you give me any lip, you hear?”

“Andro, I might get angry once in while and can even be a little dense, but I’m not that stupid.”

“Ha!”  The dwarven smith slapped the boy on the back as the two of them went down the path towards Ritehill.  “That’s a good lad.  Now what by my ancestors’ beards do you think that was all about, hmm?”

“Same as always, I wasn’t watching where I was going and chaos was the result.  Of course, if it had been any one else but Suzie.”

“Aye, she fancies you lad.”

“What!  No offence Andro but that’s insane.  She can’t stand me… she hates my guts.  You didn’t hear what she said about my mother.”

“Listen lad, I know what I saw and heard.  Do you?  She never actually said anything bad about your mother.  You cut her off before she could finish.  Aye, it did get out of hand but she was simply baiting the hook lad.  And hooked you she did.  I’ve never seen you get so flustered before and I cannot believe that you didn’t get a little charge out of it.”

David looked at the old dwarf like he’d gone completely off his tilt.  He turned away from Andro and started down the path towards Ritehill.  As the smithy stepped in behind him, David started laughing.

The smithy stopped in his tracks, shaking his head.  “Hmm, I could be wrong.”

David would have let his feet dispel his caution the rest of the way to the Rite if Andro hadn't been there to contain him.  Andro knew the lad had hopes of winning a place with Marrab the Lantern and also knew it wouldn't happen.  David's father, Jacob, had made Marrab promise not to pick the lad for he had no intention of letting his son out of his sight for even a day let alone a lifetime of wandering as a minstrel.  No, Marrab would choose Mikael Sanlans this year.  The minstrel told him so just last night while having Andro put new shoes on his gray stallion.  Andro would choose David, at Jacob's request, for he would be the only other craftsman that David would accept as his mentor.

Even then the next year would be a hard one on the lad.  Smithing is hard work and David was still young even though he towered over most his age.  Andro doubted that David would ever be a master smith but he'd be a suitable replacement for the old dwarf.  Andro made no secret that his choice this year would take over his shop at the end of the mentoring.  He longed to see his homeland again before death came calling and was determined to leave for Milo in the Greystone Mountains the day after David's mentoring was over.  The lad would then be on his own to do the work, while his father would guide the finances of the smithy.

"Almost there," David quickened his pace and the old dwarf was soon falling behind.

The path meandered up slowly through the tall trees of the edge of Tharwood coiling around Ritehill as a serpent would its prey.  Andro soon had to stop and catch his breath, his heart racing.  The last thing he wanted was to be remembered as the old bearded fool who died trying to keep up with some young human lad whose energy was legendary.

David watched the old dwarf with both amusement and concern.  But then once the smithy recovered and started to walk the steep incline again the boy's tongue, which was also legendary, couldn't help itself.  "Come on Andro, I'll race you to the top."

“Lad, I might be set in my ways and can even be a little dense, but I’m not that stupid.”

David smirked at the retort he had used earlier.  He couldn't stand the wait anymore and took off up the side off the hill dodging through the trees with precise timing and grace.

Ritehill was more of a large mound than a hill but the name Ritehill had been chosen for the mound ages past.  The local’s of Davial’s Hollow had carved the path up Ritehill to allow easier access when it was chosen to hold the Rite.  That was more than eighty years ago.  Now the path was so well worn that even old Charlie Finster could make it up the path, with a little help.  Of course, Finny, as the local youngsters called him, had been retired from active craftsmen status for years.  But Finny would come every year, regardless, eyeing the boys, as if he was going to choose one of them and reopen his old pottery shop.

David had found Ritehill deserted except for Marrab, Tom Balin and Alekk Sanlans.  Tom Balin was the village’s mayor and constable; not that he had much need for the second title.  Nothing exciting ever happened in Davial’s Hollow.  David wasn’t surprised to see Mr. Sanlans there but was surprised to see Marrab.  It wasn’t like the minstrel to be so early for the Rite.  Usually, he kept everyone waiting and in suspense.  David didn’t like it.

Then David’s father came up the other side of Ritehill.  The man he had come to dread, as much as love looked right at him startled.  He hadn’t expected David to be there.  None of them had.  Marrab looked at David and the boy knew.  He knew his father had gotten to the minstrel, insisting that Marrab not choose his son in the Rite.  No, David didn’t like this at all.

“David,” his father saw David’s face and that he knew the boy had guess what had transpired.  “You had to know I wouldn’t allow you to leave Davial’s Hollow.  I need you here, son.”

Blunt and to the point.  That was his father’s way.  It was his way too.  There wasn’t any doubt about that.  They were father and son.  Anyone could have guessed it.  Yet, David held his tongue keeping his rage inside least he say something improper and get him banned from the Rite.

Andro came huffing up the path on the other side of the hill.  He looked at the scene unfolding and held his tongue as well.

David stared his father down.  He would spend the rest of his life under his father’s boot.  No matter what the outcome of the Rite, David had made his choice.  He was leaving the hollow whether his father liked it or not.

Soon dozens of craftsmen started coming up the path of Ritehill.  A gong sounded in the center of the village calling the boys old enough for the Rite to their future.  The boys weren’t as eager to come knowing that this would mean the end of their carefree days and the beginning of their apprenticeship.  Even Mikael Sanlans didn’t want to do this.

David knew the secret conference on the hill obviously had been to ensure that Marrab would choose Mikael and not David. That was the part that made David madder than anything.  Mikael didn’t want to leave his home and his family and travel with Marrab.  He wanted to stay a boy for another year or at least be apprenticed to someone who wouldn’t pick up and move him away from his mother.  Mikael was a mommy’s boy.  Mikael’s father couldn’t stand it.  This would be the boy’s test into manhood and he’d most likely fail miserably.

The look on Marrab’s face told David that he didn’t like the choice either.  David’s father had intimidated the minstrel who was known more for his booming voice then his fighting skills.  Marrab sighed as the gathered craftsmen waited for the last few boy’s to climb Ritehill to what they considered their impending doom.  Mikael took up the rear looking back, as if hoping his mother would come and rescue him from this horrible fate.  She wouldn’t though.  Mikael’s father was a hard man and David considered himself lucky that his father wasn’t a horrible drunk who beat him.

Mikael was damn lucky to be getting out of that house and David thought someone should rescue Mrs. Sanlans as well as her son.  Now she would take the brunt of the man’s fists and fury.

Mikael came to the top of the path and walked over to where David and the rest of the boys stood, that were old enough to take the Rite. Jeffrey Winkler stood several paces from David eyeing him smugly.  Jeffrey had been old enough for the Rite two winters ago but his parents had delayed his entry into the Rite in order to get him apprenticed to their own shop, the local general store.  It was an easy job.  It suited Jeffrey who would one day inherit the store from his parents.  Jeffrey’s older brother James had been the stores previous apprentice.  James had moved across the hollow to Tylen’s Point in the spring, on the shore of Lake Qualitian, to open his own shop.

David didn’t like the Winklers but that wasn’t hard in Davial’s Hollow.  No one really liked them for them.  People liked them for their money and prestige in the community.  Jeffrey’s father, Hugh, was an all right fellow when away from his wife.  She was that families equivalent of Mr. Sanlans.  Loud, obnoxious, cruel and usually tipsy.  She didn’t have the same sort of temper though.  She intimidated in other ways best left to the imagination.  David didn’t feel sorry for Jeffrey though.  He was as bad as his mother, and so was his older brother.  How Hugh Winkler put up with them was a mystery?

Most of the other boys taking part in the Rite were from the steddings around Davial’s Hollow.  They would be apprenticed out to other local steddings in an attempt to match up the boys with young available girls.  It was like a forced courtship for they boys.  Neither they nor their fathers had any decision in the matter.  Each boy’s mother had chosen her son’s ‘apprentice-courtship’ months even years earlier.  This is what scared David the most for he was one of those boys.  If his father had agreed to supply David to some mother’s daughter, he would be doomed.

Of course, he wouldn’t be doomed either way.  He wouldn’t stay no matter what anyone said or did. Tom Balin was just about to bring the Rite to order, as the Hermit came up the path of Ritehill.

Everyone stared in shock at the man only known as the Hermit.  Very few people spoke or saw the old, snowy-bearded man during the year.  He was as much an enigma now as when David was eight.  Of course, David didn’t think the old man was an evil sorcerer anymore.  Most thought the Hermit to be some sort of hedge wizard or mystic.  Even David didn’t know what to think of him.  Regardless of the rumor mongering of Suzie’s mother, he definitely wasn’t a good-natured old gentleman that you sat down to tea with.

David had made the mistake of sneaking into the old Hermit’s tower in the dead of night when he was eleven.  He had still been in that stage where he looked for adventure around every tree trunk swinging his wooden sword at invisible goblins and worse.  The old Hermit had surprised him near the bottom of the tower’s spiral staircase, giving him the fright of his eleven years.  He had refused to go into the Tharwood for nearly six months after that.  Then his mother had died.

After that, the woods didn’t scare him anymore and neither did the Hermit.  He spent a lot of time in the Tharwood wandering through its fallen branches and natural silence.  Of course, this had meant running into the Hermit from time to time.  The old fossil tried to look frightening but David wasn’t buying it.  Soon they had learned to tolerate each other’s presence.  David would wander the fringes of the wood or nap in one of its many clearings.  The Hermit kept to himself and soon they had pattern worked out where they would pass by each other within mere minutes without even seeing each other.  David hadn’t seen the Hermit up close in almost a year and a half.

Yet there he was, coming up the path of Ritehill.  He walked with a long gnarled staff with several strange pelts dried and hanging from the top of the staff.  He was dressed in a brown robe with a course rope as a belt.  Dozens of pouches hung from the rope swing to and fro like squirrels hanging from a tree limb.  The old man’s beard was neatly groomed, which David found intriguing.  All the times he had seen the Hermit, the man’s beard had been a bird’s nest of hair, small twigs and bits of food.

Tom Balin stared in shock as the old man put out his hand to shake the mayor’s hand.  The Hermit stared at Mr. Balin, waiting for him to move.  Then just as the mayor moved his hand the hermit laughed walking past patting the other man’s arm as he passed.  Mr. Balin looked as though he’d just seen a ghost turning white as a sheet.  The Hermit walked to the center of Ritehill planting his staff firmly in the ground.

“I have come for my apprentice.”  The Hermit’s words rose above all those gathered on Ritehill.

“Excuse me,” the mayor had recovered his courage enough to talk.  “But the Rite is for the citizens of Davial’s Hollow only.”

“How long have I lived in the Tharwood?”  The Hermit fixed his eyes upon the mayor.

“I-I’m not sure,” Mr. Balin faltered under the man’s gaze.  “About five years I believe.  Why?”

“Six and a half, really.”  The Hermit pulled at his beard eyeing the boys like a vulture would a rotting corpse.  “And you tell me that after six and a half years, I’m still not welcome in your community.  Hmm, is that it?”

“Uh, of course you’re welcome.  What I meant w-.“  Mr. Balin was sweating buckets.

“I know what you meant, sir.  But I don’t take offense.  After all, I am a bit of recluse.  But I believe I have lived here long enough to take part in this little Rite of yours.  If you don’t agree then we could always bring in the nearest magistrate to handle the dispute.”

“No, no!  It’s alright,” Tom Balin didn’t like it when the magistrate from Meriton came to visit.  “You can take part in the Rite if you so choose.”

“Fine, fine.  I knew we could all be civil about this.  Now, how does this work?”

David couldn’t help but smile.  The old bugger was making this a lot more fun then David had thought it would be considering his options.

“Well, since you’re new to the Rite, you will have to go last.  Unless you have a written statement from a boy’s parents that allows you to choose him before anyone else.  Do you have such a document?”

“I do.”  Everyone stared in disbelief as the old Hermit took out a old rolled up piece of parchment and handed it to the mayor.

For a moment, the mayor just looked at it.  The parchment was sealed with wax, an emblem clearly marked on it.  David couldn’t see the symbol, of course, but he knew a wax seal when he saw one.  Mr. Balin cut open the seal with a small knife and read the document with several of the craftsmen looking over his shoulder.

“This cannot be,” the mayor was stunned.  “Yet here is the family mark and these signature looks authentic.”

David eyes widened in shock, as the mayor looked in his direction passing the document to David’s father.

Larren Allethwend of Cabaret has been given full Writ of Authority over David Herron of Davial’s Hollow.  The document is signed by both Mr. Allethwend and Felicia Herron.”

“That’s impossible!”  David’s father was livid.  He read the document over and over pacing from one side of Ritehill to the other.  “By the North Gods, this is dated before David’s birth!  How is that possible? She couldn’t have signed this, not unless-.”

The realization of what his wife had done sunk in.  She had known she would give birth to a boy and that she’d name him David.  And she had known that Larren would come to Davial’s Hollow to claim her son.  And he saw the priest’s signature and knew that David was not his son.

“How?  Why?”  David watched as his father, the only father he’d ever known, feel to his knees weeping.

Larren Allethwend stood above David’s fallen father.

“Jacob Herron,” the man’s voice was now hard and cold.  “You must have suspected.  Felicia wasn’t like other people.  She was gifted.  And as a result she was barren.  There wasn’t any way for her to have children, yet here David stands.”

“It was a mistake,” Jacob pounded his fists against the ground.  “The healers, the priests, they made a mistake!  She wasn’t barren!”

David felt something building inside him.  It fear terror mixed with brimming excitement.  Then it happened.  He felt something touch his soul.  It was like the wind blew through him, thunderclouds raging in his head.  A storm of divine proportions roared at him as the great tigers of the Storm Jungle.  He was sure his chest would explode until he felt a hand on his head.

“Peace child,” he could hear Larren’s voice in his head.  “You must be at peace.  Fight the storm, fight the beast inside you.  It is not time for you to know that power.  Peace child.”

David was on the ground sweating his heart racing as he came out of whatever it was that tore through him.  Yet, he knew what it was.  It was magic.  Magic burned in him hotter than any forge.  He knew this somehow.  But still he didn’t know.

“What am I?”  Larren kneeled next to David his eyes closed tight.  He held David’s head between both hands.

“Tell me what you saw!”  Larren’s words were urgent.

“I-I saw a r-raging storm in the sky un-unlike anything ever seen before.  A-and I saw a beast from someplace called the Storm Jungle.  I’m not even sure where that is, but I know it somehow.”

“What was this beast?”  Larren’s words were calmer as the boy came further out of his trance.

“A tiger,” David’s vision cleared some more.  His father was staring at him in awe and fear.

“I saw hundreds of the great tigers of the Storm Jungle.  They roared my name in unison.  They spoke to me.”

“What did they say, boy?  Tell me.”  Larren was in an almost trance-like state, his words echoing across Ritehill.

“They said I am one with the sky and slave to the earth and its creatures.  I am the tiger’s claw and the storm’s wind!  I am the tiger’s teeth and the storm’s thunder!  I am the tiger’s soul and the storm’s lightning!  I AM THE TIGER AND THE STORM!”

David’s words lifted into the autumn sky booming louder than any boy’s voice should be.  The people of Davial’s Hollow ran from Ritehill in fear.  Even David’s father ran from the voice.  It shattered his will. Alekk Sanlans died as the fear crushed his heart.

Only Andro Rourak stood next to Larren Allethwend staring at the boy who only moments before had been joking with the old dwarf.  He knew what David was and, yet even he still doubted his senses.

“He is touched by the North Gods, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Larren keep his hands on David’s chest as the boy fell into a deep peaceful sleep.  “He is blooded.”

“His mother was a god?”  Andro shook his head in disbelief.

“No,” Larren sighed watching as David dreamt of running with tigers through the jungles of the south.  His mother was half-fey.  She was partially blooded. Felicia believed that her mother’s father was Sanh.”

“The Stormmaker,” Andro knelt beside David with a new respect for the boy and his power.  “If she was so strong then why did she die?”

“Good dwarf, I know your curious but these questions are for David to ask, not you.  Come Andro, you must come with me to Cabaret and help me teach the boy.”

“I can’t leave my smithy,” Andro didn’t like where this was going.  “I have nearly a dozen orders to fill and David was supposed to be my apprentice.  Now what am I going to do?”

“Why didn’t you run with the others?”

“Hmm, what?  What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Sanh has chosen you too, Andro.  I can teach David about magic but who’s going to tech him a trade.  And who’s going to teach him to fight, if you don’t?”

“You’re serious!”

“And besides, the villagers will not want you around after this.  After all, you are one of the long-lived races with a natural immunity to magic.  They will be suspicious of you, at best.  Completely hostile, at worst.”

Andro thought for a moment.  He’d lived in Davial’s Hollow most of his life.  He’d watched as the humans became old and died and new children were born.  They would treat him differently even though they didn’t have reason to.  But it was crazy, what could he teach the great grandson of the Stormmaker, a god’s great grandson.

“You have to do it, Andro.  Can you risk him falling into the hands of darkness?  He needs you.  He needs you more than he’ll ever need me.”

“Alright, let’s say I do this.  And I’m not saying I will but if I did then I’d like some say as to where we take the lad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, man!  Think!  You said it yourself… he’s blooded!  He isn’t completely human and I don’t think a human city is the best place to guide him.  Even if he is the great grandson of Sanh and I’m not saying I believe that, but if the lad is then we’d better keep him away from those high and mighty priests.  I know the lad pretty well and I don’t think he wants to become an acolyte or whatever in the Church of Sanh.”

“You have a point.  So where do you suggest we h-, um, take him?”

“Well, if I can’t stay here then I’d like to go home for a while.  See my kin.  Have you ever been to the Greystone Mountains?”

Before Larren could answer the noise of the villagers coming back to Ritehill rose through the air.  They came with rakes and shovels and pitchforks.  They came as a mob enraged by fear.

“We’ll decide later,” Larren looked at the dwarf unwavering.  “Are you in or are you out?”

“I’m in,” Andro stared over the edge of the hill.  The villagers had torches and a few hunting hounds with them as well.  He couldn’t believe that these people, people he’d lived with for two generations would do this.  Larren was right, they’d never accept him now.

“Damn, I wish I had my axe.”

“What’s it called?”  Larren closed his eyes concentrating.

“Uh, Foecleaver,” Andro lifted his arm and there it was in his hand.  “How’d you…?  On second thought I don’t want to know.”

“There coming up the path, we have to go now!”  Larren grabbed David around the torso while pulling the dwarf to the center of Ritehill.

“Hey now, no need to be rude.  I’m com-“

The mob of Davial’s Hollow came to the top of Ritehill to find it barren.  Only the hint of almonds in the air and scorch marks on the earth told them of the magic Larren Allethwend of Cabaret had used to teleport his charges away.  The mob of Davial’s Hollow ran screaming from Ritehill refusing to ever set foot on the mound again.

*The End*


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## Knightfall (Nov 6, 2002)

*Opinions?*

To those that have read this, can I get some opinions before it disappears into the server archive mist.

Please and thank you.

KF72


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## Taboo (Nov 9, 2002)

Like I'd let this fall into the archives without a comment! Never fear!  

Sorry it took so long, I've been away from the boards this week, now I'm suffering withdrawals!

I love the story, an excellent addition to the World of Kulan!  You've really fleshed out the world, I can see why you've been so busy.  That's part of what makes it so interesting. 

I don't always like short stories, but I still liked this one since you made the characters so lifelike, with enough detail and action to keep my attention from beginning to end.

Hope that helps!

Taboo


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## Knightfall (Nov 9, 2002)

Taboo said:
			
		

> *Like I'd let this fall into the archives without a comment! Never fear!
> 
> Sorry it took so long, life I've been away from the boards this week, now I'm suffering withdrawals!
> 
> ...




Thanks Tab,  you have renewed my interest in doing something with this thread.  I think I'll be using it for more short stories based on my three campaigns - Arcanum of the Stars, World of Kulan and Time of Ages.

Cheers!

KF72


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## Knightfall (Nov 9, 2002)

*Another World of Kulan Short Story*

[Moved this short story here from my Divinity War thread.]

*Servant of the Shadow*

Haily wasn't sure that she could pull it off. Her masters at the Angle's Edge Thieves' Guild had sent her out to procure an item they considered vital to their survival.

Sure, their survival. It's not like they cared whether she lived or died. This Zultmir fellow is one of the most powerful wizards in the Kingdom of Stonn not to mention a rumored favorite of the Jealous Arcane. And any wizard that could attract the attention of Xuar, the God of Necromancy, is someone she would normally avoided like the plague.

Followers of Xuar are not known for their mercy.

Haily looked at the tower in front of her in awe and a whole lot of fear. The stone gargoyle next to her seemed to be mocking her. Calling her a coward and worse. Of course, it was all in her head. The gargoyle wasn't alive. Just a convenient hiding spot cloaked in shadows on an adjacent roof to the necromancer's tower.

"This is crazy." The halfling shook her head in frustration. "I don't even know if I can get in, let alone find it."

But the guild had been adamant. Find the item or all was lost. They hadn't even told her what it was she was supposed to steal. Oh, they had hinted that it was important to the Church of Kuil and the entire pantheon for that matter. All the more reason her stomach was now doing somersaults.

"The necromancer doesn't know what he has." Guildmaster Vendel had told this to her in his private room. "If he did it could lead to another war amongst the gods. We don't dare speak the name of the object. But you'll know it when you see it."

She had been less then pleased. She wasn't a devoted worshipper of the North Gods. Yes, Kuil is the patron of the Angle's Edge. But that doesn't mean she believes that the God of Rogues and Illusion cares whether or not she exists. The guild has always been a means to an end. And now that could be her fate, literally.

"Well, no sense wasting time." Haily stood up putting a hand on the gargoyle. Staying in the shadows she waited until two Watchers passed by on the street below. "Time to get killed."

The halfling rogue deftly dropped down to the street below without a sound. She checked the street again while keeping to the shadows. Then she closed her eyes concentrating on the shadowed corner, cast by the street lamps, on the other side of the street that she had seen from above. Breathing slowly, she took a step and felt herself being pulled through the darkness to the other side of the street next to the necromancer's tower.

She clenched her hands together fighting the fear that always came with shadow walking. It was a gift taught to all guild members of the Angle's Edge. She hated it. It felt like ice was being shoved through her skin. But it came in handy when you needed to do something real risky like trying to break into an arcane tower. And this was the easy part.

"Oh forget it." Haily clenched her teeth together. "Guild membership isn't worth this."

Haily slid away from the tower sprinting down a side alley. She'd have to leave the city of course. She'd have to leave everything she had behind. Start over. Somewhere else where she didn't have to answer to the North Gods in order to steal for a living. There was always the southern lands or even the old cities of the Empire of Swords.

Haily ran through the back alleys of Stonn City keeping an eye out for Watchers and anyone who might recognize her. It wouldn't take long for the guild or the Church of Kuil to learn that she had chose to leave without the bag.

She turned a corner and ran right into someone.  She went down in a tangle of arms and legs with the other person.

"Ow," Haily noticed that the person in front of her was one of her kind. A boy barely out of his mamma's diapers no less. "What hit me?"

The boy looked like he was about to pass out. He rubbed his forehead groaning in pain. Damn, she hadn't been careful. Now she was in a situation that would lead them right to her. If the boy talked.

She reached for her dagger. Then she looked at the little halfling with her hand near the hilt of her blade. No matter whether or not she wasn't part of the guild anymore, she couldn't bring herself to murder an innocent child. Especially not one of her own kind. There are so few of us.

Haily let go of her dagger. She quickly stood up taking a quick look around to see if the Watchers had spotted them. She tried to help the boy up but his legs were too wobbly to stand. She picked him up carrying him into the shadows of a nearby alleyway.

"Are you all right child?" Her mother would have been proud, if she knew who her mother was.

"I-I think so," The boy still couldn't stand. "What happened?"

"You were out in the middle of the night. Wandering through the streets. I didn't see you and ran right into you. What are you doing out at this time of night? Where's your kin?"

"Kin, your not serious are you. I don't have any halfling relatives. I'm on my own, ok."

He seemed a little less fragile now that his head had cleared. "So you're an orphan?"

"What about it?" The boy was becoming more hostile. "And what the heck are you running from, hmm?"

"Don't sass your elders child." Haily tried to dodge the question. "Halflings have to stick together."

"Don't call me a child. And you're not my elder."

"Why don't we go to the Temple of Yondalla an ask the High Priestess if she agrees with you on that, hmm."

"N-no, that's all right. I'm sorry. I'm just a little sore, ok?"

"Fine. Now, where do you live?"

"Umm, you’re looking at it." The boy pats his clothes, turns around several times then sits down in the alley.

"You live in the streets. Of Stonn City. Do you take me for a fool? No one lives on the streets in this city. Not unless they want to go to prison or get thrown out of the city."

"Well, I don't really live here. I live wherever my feet take me. I'm just passing through, honest."

Haily sighed crossing her arms in frustration. Great, all she needed right now was a halfling boy that she was now responsible for. The guild was going to catch her for sure.

"All right, I believe you. What's your name?"

"Kyle."

"Is that it?"

"Ya, why?"

The boy didn't even have a last name. She should have done the job. At least that would have been safer.

"Ok, I'm going to get you out of the city. Then we'll try and find a nice, quiet halfling community for you to settle down in."

"I don't think so."

"Excuse me?" Haily was now starting to regret not sticking the little bugger with her dagger.

"You heard me. And don't give me that Yondalla routine again. I know they're as likely to make you do penance for being a thief."

"What makes you think that?" Obviously, he's brighter than he looks.

"Oh come on. You just scream thief-in-the-night. Don't worry, I've pinched a few things in my time."

"Oh really, you don't look like you could even lift a dagger let alone a full purse of coins."

"I'll prove it to ya."

Haily couldn't help but admire him. Kyle had this cockiness about him that she once had a long time before having to deal with pantheon politics.

"I don't have time for you to prove it to me." Haily heard the sound of footsteps coming down the street. Watchers! "We have to go now."

"Oh them, relax. Watch this."

"Don't-" She was too late. The little halfling bound out into the street like a cat. He went right up to the two Watchers coming into the lamplight.

"Damn it." He'd end up in jail, of course. Watchers didn't bargain. Haily stayed out of sight waiting for them to arrest the little bugger.

Silence.

Haily didn't understand it. Watchers are known for loving the sound of their own voices. The halfling rogue peeked out of the alley. Her jaw almost fell off.

The two watchers didn't move, frozen in mid-step. Not only that. They were completely naked from top to bottom. Kyle had relieved them of all their clothes. He scampered back to the alley next to Haily giggling the whole way.

"How'd you do that?" Haily was trying not to laugh.

Kyle snapped his fingers and the two guards continued walking down the street right by them in the buff. They didn't even seem to realize what had happened.

"They'll walk for a couple more blocks before snapping back into reality." Kyle gave Haily a wry smile.

"I don't understand. Who or what are you?"

"Don't you know?"

"Come on, kid. I don't have time for games."

Kyle sighed. He seemed much older now. His face seemed older than anything she had ever seen before.

Haily backed away. "You're not a halfling, are you?"

"I'm what you see, Haily but I'm also what you have never cared to see."

"What?" Riddles, Haily hated riddles.

Kyle took her hand. She didn't even try to resist. She couldn't resist for some reason. Everything seemed to stop for moment and then Haily was standing in front of the necromancer's tower. The rest of the city was gone. It was like they and the tower were alone in the world.

"And here we are again, Haily." Kyle stood looking up at the tower with disgust. "Damn necromancers."

Haily didn't know what was real. Everything was a blur in her head. It didn't make sense. She wasn't standing on anything but yet she was standing.

Kyle knew her name but she hadn't told him. Only her fellow guild members knew her true name. The halfling boy was larger than life in front of her. He turned at looked at her.

"O-oh my," Haily felt her eyes watering with tears. "Lord K-Kuil..."

"My Child." The boy in front of her vanished. Replaced by the power of the God of Rogues and Illusions. She felt like her heart would explode her skin burn away from His radiance. "The Pantheon needs you Haily. I need you."

"But I-I'm just a thief." Haily was on her knees her hands clasped in front of her chest. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Him. She didn't feel worthy to be near Him.

"You are more than worthy, child. You are one of my most gifted followers. And I am sorry that you felt neglected. I have meant to come to see you often but didn't realize how fragile your faith was until you decide to run away."

Haily was sobbing uncontrollably before her God. He was her God now. She felt it now like nothing she'd ever felt before in her life. It was amazing and intoxicating.

"I don't understand why you don't just take the item away from the necromancer. He couldn't stop you even if he tried."

"It isn't that simple, dear Haily. No god is meant to possess it except the All-Mother. It could corrupt me. Besides, if I intervened directly in this matter then Xuar would know. He would become aware of the item and seize it for himself. That is what could destroy the world and that is what must never happen. That is why I need you, my dear."

"But surely a more experienced thief would be more likely to succeed."

"Your humility is why I've chosen you. You stand in my presence yet you still doubt yourself worthy of the task. And make no mistake, my child, I chose you myself. I have complete confidence in you to do this."

Haily felt His love for her. Kuil stepped pulled her up to her feet. He held her hand against His chest. He stared directly into her eyes. Haily gasped for air as she felt like she was being born again from within.

"Every time you stand in the shadows you are a part of me, Haily. Every time you shadow walk it is my touch you feel inside you. It isn't darkness you feel, but the light in the darkness that guides you to me. I am your Father, I am your Mother, I am your Brother and Sister, and I am your kin. I love you as much as Yondalla loves you. Never forget that."

Haily was shaking. She opened her eyes. She was on the rooftop next to the gargoyle. The necromancer's tower stood in front of her once again. It wasn't scary at all. The Watchers went by but she didn't give them a second thought. She could feel the items power calling out to her. It needed her to recover it for the pantheon. To keep the world safe from Xuar and the other dark gods.

Haily closed her eyes and shadow walked into the very heart of the tower. She opened herself completely to the shadows for the first time. She felt Him there next to her. Guiding her. She knew exactly where to look for the item. It stood on the necromancer's mantle in his room. She had shadow walked right into his lair without hesitation. The necromancer's warding spells fizzled. She had been blessed by her Lord and moved through the room with ease.

Haily grabbed the item off the mantle. The necromancer slept soundly behind her. She didn't even look at him. She shadow walked away back to alley she had met Kuil, as Kyle. She tucked the item under her arm. She knew the guildmaster would be proud if not a little surprised she had succeeded. It was ok. She didn't need his favor. She was a servant of the shadow now. Haily shadow walked back to the guild house embracing her Lord's touch with a smile as she went.

*The End*


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## Knightfall (Nov 9, 2002)

Deleted, Treasures story reposted within my latest World of Kulan Narritive excerpt.


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## Knightfall (Dec 11, 2002)

*Horns of Honor (A Time of Ages short story)*

“Mother,” Sanin sat down next to his Regent Mother on one of the window seats of the Great Bay Window of Palace Hall.  “Tell me about the Warrior of Delvir Shrine.”

Lady Jenna Kel, Queen of Da’aphet, startled at her son’s words, dropping her book on alchemy.  She looked into his eager questioning eyes with some reservation about what she should tell him.  It had been so long ago.

 “What exactly is it that you want to know about it that you can’t learn from your tutors?”

“Books don’t tell you about a person’s soul, mother.”  Sanin was only eight years old but he would tower over his mother once he reached adolescence.  “What was he like?”

“He was one of the warrior caste and a servant of Da’aphet.  What else do you need to know?”

“Mother,” Sanin put his hand on hers.  “He saved your life.  Are you telling me he didn’t mean anything to you?”

She sighed in resignation.  She’d tell him the truth.  He deserved that as her son.

“Alright,” Lady Kel patted her son’s hand staring out over the great medieval steam metropolis of Da’aphet.  “I’ll tell you.”

Sanin watched as his mother placed the alchemy book on the dialer table beside her.  She punched the correct sequence for the book and it was magically transported across the city to the Great Library of Da’aphet.  She tapped the dialer’s controls again and a new book appeared on the small table.

She picked up her personal journal from years ago, which she had placed in her own private library years ago.  The leather still smelled new thanks to the enchantments placed upon the book and her personal library.  She undid the three-clip clasp that bound the book together.  She opened the book and began to read out loud to her son.

*	*	*

Jenna Hallin stood on the edge of her father’s combustible carriage, the steam billowing out from underneath the noisy contraption.  She wished her father would get rid of the awful thing and travel by simple horse and buggy like her grandparents had.

Yes, steam technology had its uses but this awful thing was ruining her hair and skin.  It was also humiliating, a Princess Consort forced to travel in such a common vehicle while her royal friends traveled in real luxury.

But, father insisted saying that combustible carriages would replace the horse and buggy the same way combustible sky skiffs had replaced old steam balloons.  She could see the similarities but wouldn’t accept it.  When she was queen…

”Jenna,” her father climbed up into the carriage on the driver’s side, put his foot on the brake and pulled several of the levers in front of him, which pitched the carriages combustible engine into life.  “Please sit down, you’re making a scene!”

“Oh father,” Jenna smoothed out her petticoat sitting ladylike in her seat.  The hard silicon wood was horribly uncomfortable.  “Don’t be such a old fussy.”

“Now, now child,” Victor Hallin looked at his daughter, his spectacles balanced precariously on his nose.  “It is not wise to appear undignified or be such a baby.  Remember, I’m still your father, Princess Consort or not!”

Her father lifted his foot of the steamer’s brake and the carriage bucked forward like a wounded beetle walker.  The carriage rolled slowly and bumpily over the cobblestone below.  Townsfolk cleared the way as the carriage approached and shouted cures as it speed on past leaving the air smelly and hot.

“I’m sorry father,” Jenna bit her lip flapping at the steam billowing around her face.  “It’s just, I hate this whole arrangement.”

“You weren’t complaining last summer when Prince Kel asked you to marry him.  In fact, you were absolutely giddy.  What’s changed?”

“Oh, lots of things,” Jenna didn’t like Prince Kel the way she used to.  “Like this war he started with the southern colonies.”

“You can’t blame him for that.  They gave us no choice in the matter.  Aligning with those Sermath’kah devils from the Seas of Pillars.”

“Oh please,” Jenna sighed in disbelief.  “There’s no proof of that.”

“Open your eyes child, the southerners use dark magic on the battlefield and drink the blood of the dead.  Surely you’ve heard the stories from the front.”

“I’ve heard a lot of Prince Kel’s propaganda.  And that’s all.”  Jenna crossed her arms in defiance staring away from her father, watching the buildings fade by as her father sped up the carriage.

Victor sighed shaking his head.  He let it go.  She’d learn the truth once they reached Delvir Shrine.  The steamer lurched through the North Gate of Leahan towards the Coast of Chuol.  From there she would witness the southern battlefields through the Shrine’s seeing mirror.  She would not doubt the Shrine’s magic.

The carriage rolled more easily over the packed earth of the road then it had over the cobblestone streets of Leahan.

Ahead a column of soldiers marched along the road.  The sun shining off the reinforced steel armor and shields of the soldiers.  Victor moved the carriage over to the other side of the road passing the main part of the column.  Jenna watched the soldiers with both respect and loathing.  She didn’t like war and didn’t see the need for men to throw away their lives over land and the Prince’s politics.

They neared the front of the column and Jenna gasped at the sight she’d only ever heard of.  A large man wearing the garb of a Steam Knight sat proudly on a cyborg-horse.  His armor covered him completely, steam billowing from the combustion power pack on his back.  A steam powered warrior’s gauntlet held the cyborg-horse’s reins while a similarly designed power sword hung at his hip.

“Hello there sir knight,” her father brought the carriage up next to the man’s mount.  “Can you tell me how far it is to Delvir Shrine.”

The knight tapped his armor’s control mechanism and the top layer of his armor magically rippled back into the extradimensional space that was part of every set of steam armor.  The billow of steam that the suit’s command had issued blocked Jenna’s view of the knight for a moment.

“It is several miles still,” the steam began to dissipate.  “Do you and the lady require an escort to the shrine, dear sir.”

The steam lifted and Jenna held her breath.  He was breathtaking.  Wide shoulders, dark red hair and a dazzling smile.

“That’s very kind of you, Sir-“ Jenna’s father paused not knowing the man’s name.

“Treblet, Sir Winston Treblet as your service, my good man.”  He nodded in Jenna’s direction with a smile.  “And who might be escorting today?”

“I am Victor Hallin and this is my daughter, Lady Jenna Hallin.”  Jenna’s father made the introduction as if addressing the Prince himself.

“The Princess Consort,” Sir Treblet bowed his head in reverence.  “I am honored to meet my future queen.”

“Thank you, Sir Treblet.”  Jenna noticed something walking on the other side of the knight’s mount, it’s head and body covered.  “What is that?”

“Oh this… this is Uhtmar, my pet.”  Sir Treblet pulled on the creature’s chain and it growled under it’s covering.  “I assure you, he is quite under my control.”

“I have no doubt,” Jenna licked her lips at the knight’s calm exterior and self-assurance.  “Where are you from?”

“I come from the southern lands,” Sir Treblet noticed Victor’s shocked expression.  “I found myself on the wrong side of the war near the beginning and pledged my power sword to Da’aphet.”

“A southerner fighting against the colonies, that’s unheard of.”  Jenna’s father was suspicious.

“So I’ve heard.”  Sir Treblet’s voice seemed far away… almost forlorn.  “War is a heavy deed that separates friends, even relatives.  My brother fights for the south.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jenna wished she could reach out to him more but her station wouldn’t allow it.  She was the Princess Consort, after all.

“It is alright,” Sir Treblet perked at her concern.  “He will see the light one day, I’m sure of it.”

“Well, you can always hope.”  Jenna’a father brought the carriage to a halt, as the road divided.  “I didn’t realize that this road spilt here.  Do you know the way, Sir Treblet?”

“Yes, the Shrine is to the west.  I will lead the way.  Come Uhtmar!”  The knight’s beast growled walking hunched over next to its master.

Jenna paid the beast no mind, her eyes fixed upon the Steam Knight, as he lead his cyborg-mount onto the west road.  Yes, steam technology had its benefits.

*	*	*

Jenna’s hair bun was a disaster by the time they reached the coast.  She removed the pins holding it in place letting her auburn hair drift in the breeze.  Her father had been appalled by her brazen display, at least that’s what he said.

“You must keep up appearances child.  After all-“

“Yes, I know!”  Jenna lost her temper.  “I am the Princess Consort!  That’s all you and I ever talk about anymore, I’m sick of it!”

Jenna eyes swelled up with tears and she bound off the carriage, running towards the coast.  Victor sighed bringing the combustible carriage to a stop.

“Is something the matter,” Sir Treblet brought his half-mechanical steed up next to the combustible.  “Why is she so distraught?”

“It’s the same old thing, really.  She doesn’t want to marry the Prince anymore because of the war and the man’s politics and beliefs.”

“I see.”  Sir Treblet watched as the young miss ran across the grass of the cliff side.  “Well, we certainly can’t have her running off alone can we.  I will see to her with your permission, dear sir.”

“Granted,” Victor sat back in the carriage, frustrated.  “I can’t control her anymore.”

“Come Uhtmar!”  The knight’s set his horse in gallop to catch up with Jenna.  The beast ran along side using its legs and arms to help propel it.

Sir Treblet understood why she would balk at an arranged marriage.  The custom was centuries old.  However, the Prince was an important man.  His will alone drove the soldiers of the north to fight against terrible odds and the evil flooding the south from the Sea of Pillars.

“Dear lady,” He brought his mount to a halt several yards away from Jenna.  “You should not be wandering out this region alone.  These are dangerous times.”

The beast, Uhtmar, stayed next to the knight’s mount.

She was walking with her hands over face.  She had obviously been crying.  He felt bad for her.  She didn’t love the Prince at all and would be alone in his company.

“How can I do this?” She turned towards him her face red from tears and sorrow.  “How can I marry someone I barely know.”

“It is your duty, dear lady.”  Sir Treblet shook his head with a sigh.  “You cannot back out now.  Not with the ceremony less than two months away.”

“Sir Treblet… Winston, do you find me beautiful?”

“Of course, what a silly question.  You are the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.  Otherwise the Prince would not have chose you.”

“I didn’t ask what the Prince thought, I asked you what you thought.”  Jenna rolled her eyes at the density of men.

“Yes, but it isn’t proper to speak of such things.”

“Why not,” Jenna ran up next to him holding her petticoat up high enough so that it didn’t pick up grass and dirt inside.  “Who says what is proper for the Kingdom’s next Queen?”

“The Code and the King, dear lady,” Sir Treblet was nervous with her so close.

She was such a small petit thing with eyes as blue as Lake Autumnweed in his homeland.  He liked her, he’d felt it the moment he’d met her.  But his honor as a Steam Knight held his tongue and his desire.

“Oh fudge,” Jenna turned and stalked off towards the carriage.  “The one man I met who I really want won’t take me because of his honor and damn Code!”

“Princess Consort, you must not speak of such things,” Sir Treblet reached out grabbing a hold of her arms shaking her.  “You belong to the Prince and no one else!”

“Let go of me,” Jenna was trapped in his grip.  “You’re hurting me.”

Uhtmar growled taking two steps towards them.  The beast’s chains rattled in defiance of its cruel master.

“Do you have something to say, Uhtmar?  Or do I need to punish you again for your disobedience!”  The handsome young man became horrid to her as she realized what lay beneath the cloth covering the beast, no the beast-man.

“No, master,” Uhtmar’s voice entered Jenna’s ears and she saw the knight for what he was.

“You bastard,” Jenna tried to pull away from him looking back towards her father.  “You have a slave!  That’s barbarous!  How can you chain up a sentient thing?”

Sir Treblet let her go and she fell to the ground.  He stood over her anger seething in his eyes.  He looked at Uhtmar and began laughing.

“What’s so funny?”  Jenna was sick.  How could she have liked this man?

“Uhtmar isn’t one of the Ethma'rieluna, child.  He’s a minotaur.  He was born my slave he will die my slave.  It is his life.”

“That is no life!”  She felt like she was going to vomit.  “I will tell the Prince and you will be hung for your crime!”

“The Prince knighted me himself, with my slave at my side.”  Sir Treblet laughed cruelly.  “He wouldn’t dare think of freeing Uhtmar.  Otherwise, he’d lose one of his best knights.  There are other wars to fight on Rielun.  I don’t have to stay here.”

“You haven’t any loyalty at all.”

“Ah not true, dear lady.”  He shook his finger at her.  “I am loyal to the Prince and all the money that he pays me to fight against my kin.  War may be a nasty business, but it pays handsomely.”

“Your nothing but a mercenary in a fancy suit of armor.”  Jenna spat at him.

He wiped his chin raising his hand to hit her.  Then they heard it.  A clarion calls from across the road.  Sir Treblet spun to see nearly a dozen Sermath'kah riders pouring out of the tall grass.  Goblins and orcs every one of them.

“At last, something to kill.”  Sir Treblet mounted his horse riding off towards the enemy.  He left Jenna to fend for herself dragging Uhtmar with him.

Jenna watched in horror as the Sermath’kah overran her father’s carriage, knocking him to the ground.

“Father,” Jenna screamed running towards him.

An orc devil rider swung his mace, shattering the man’s skull before he could find his feet.  Jenna slid to halt watching as her father died in front of her eyes.

The column of soldiers that had been traveling with them turned to face the devil riders of the Sea of Pillars.  Steamlock pistols flared and swords flashed as the soldiers met the Sermath’kah head on.  Soon Sir Treblet was among in the front his steam powered sword slicing through flesh and blood like a hot knife through a soft biscuit.  His gauntlet flashed powerful elemental magic burning the riders and their steeds into charred bits that waft across the road.  Jenna became sick retching as the smell of death.  She backed away from the grisly scene, unable to believe her eyes.

Then they came.  Hundreds of southern soldiers and Sermath’kah through a magic portal overrunning the small force of northern troops.  They fought bravely they died horribly as steam-powered cannons ripped through their armor and flesh.

Sir Treblet sounded the retreat riding back towards Jenna scooping her up without protest.  She couldn’t move. Uhtmar ran beside his master as they ran the gauntlet of enemy troops along the edge of the sea cliff.

“Uhtmar, nothing must get through.  Do you understand?”  The knight sheathed his sword, pulled his pistol from his boot and shot two charging riders.

“I understand, master.”  The minotaur slave threw off his cloth coverings, pulling a great axe from a sling on his back. “Come to me dark ones and I shall show you true darkness!”

The minotaur’s horns rose three feet over his cow-like head, his limbs covered in dark black fur.  He wore nothing except his harness, as his hide was as hard as any leather armor. He roared in defiance at the oncoming horde rushing to meet them.

The Sermath’kah kept coming but the human soldiers bolted in fear.

“Aren’t you going to help him?”  Jenna worried the beast-man would die against so many.

“It matters not,” Sir Treblet tapped his cyborg-horse’s control keys and the half-robotic beast speed into a blinding gallop.  “He is a warrior slave, this is his duty.”

Sir Treblet fired again into an orc devil’s torso.

“He’ll die!”

“Maybe.” Sir Treblet looked back towards his minotaur slave.  “But I can always get another warrior slave.”

The knight fired again and again hitting enemy soldiers with deadly precision

“I hate you,” Jenna balled her fists punching at her vile protector.

The Steam Knight laughed, while somewhere in the distance a minotaur slave roared in pain.

*	*	*

They rode all night to the Shrine, in order to warn the cities of the north.  At least that was Sir Treblet’s goal.  Jenna just wanted to get to the Shrine and get away from the knight.  She thought of Uhtmar lying dead somewhere or worse.

The Shrine was more like a steam technology way station, standing on the top of a small hill near the coast.  It had a combustible engine at its heart, nearly six feet in diameter.  The magical energy it produced would seal the damage done to Sir Treblet’s steam armor as well as heal his body.

It could do nothing for Jenna’s heavy soul.

“Father,” Jenna crumbled at the edge of the Shrine’s entryway.

“Oh stop that,” Sir Treblet rolled his eyes at her weeping.  “At least he didn’t suffer.”

“You bastard,” Jenna buried her head in her arms.  “How can you be so damn unfeeling.”

“Well,” Sir Treblet looked at her wondering why she worried about the dead.  It didn’t make any sense.  But then he was from the south and northerners were different, strange people.  “To my people, death is like having a slave for the first time.  It can be painful and messy sometimes but one gets used to it eventually.”

“Uh,” Jenna turned away from him.  “You are so sick.”

“Do not judge what you do not understand, child.  Having slaves has been a tradition in my homeland for generations.”

“It’s wrong,” Jenna wasn’t even going to try and reason with him.

“In your mind because that’s all you know,” Sir Treblet walked deeper into the Shrine looking for its seeing mirror.  “Now keep an eye out, child.  They still might be out there.”

Jenna wanted to pummel the man.  He was so conceited, so sure of himself.  Jenna remembered that it was his self-confidence that had made him seem attractive in the first place.  She’d have to remember to look deeper the next time.  Look for the clues that all ‘noble’ men hide behind.

But she hated most was that he was right.  At least, about their present situation.  If she didn’t keep watch the enemy would catch them unaware.  She stood up looking across the Plains of Shulman.  She saw only the tall grass and endless sky, which was falling to twilight.

She shivered at the thought of having to spend the night in this man’s company.

“Ah, here we are.  The mirror at last.”  Sir Treblet wiped the dust collecting on the seeing mirror.  Of course, there wasn’t any real glass in the mirror.  Just the magically mesh that would allow him to see all the way to Da’aphet and warn the Prince of the invasion.

He would do his duty, as he was paid to do.

He switched on the control rods, keying in the coordinates for the capital city and the mirror flashed an awful scene around Palace Hall.  The city was under siege.

“Damn it,” Sir Treblet pounded his fist against the mirror, destroying it.  “It looks like I’m not going to get paid!”

“What are you talking about?”  Jenna looked at the ruined mirror.  “What did you do?”

“Da’aphet is about to fall and I am without an employer.”  He looked at her his loyalty to the Prince gone with his paycheck.  “Of course, I still have you.”

“Oh no,” Jenna had never been more frightened in her life.  “You wouldn’t dare?”

“Try me,” The Steam Knight stepped toward her, an evil grin revealing his soul.  He’d take this wench then sell her in the south.  “I’m going to enjoy this.”

He grabbed her hair with his free hand laughing like a madman.  She struggled in vain to free herself.  Then the bellow sounded from behind them.

 “Ah,” Sir Treblet turned to greet his warrior slave.  “I see you’ve survived again, beast.  But please be silent why I enjoy myself.  If you’re a good cow, I’ll let you have when I’m done.”

“I don’t think so,” Uhtmar stood with his axe in hand ready to for anything.  “Now, let her go!”

“You stupid beast,” Sir Treblet drew his power sword encasing himself in his full armor.  “I am a Steam Knight, not some pathetic goblin or orc devil.  I’ll gut you on the first pass, slave!”

“You can try,” Uhtmar raised himself up standing nearly eight feet.  “I will not cower before a man as pathetic as you anymore!  If I die, I will die free!  And I will take you with me!”

Uhtmar roared charging his former master.

Sir Treblet raised his powered gauntlet and sent fire and lightning coursing through the minotaur’s body before the beast-man could finish his charge.  Uhtmar howled in pain, the elemental energy knocking him back and down the hill.

Sir Treblet laughed stalking down the hill to finish the minotaur off.  He’s taken only three steps before the steamlock pistol went off behind him.  The knight stopped laughing turning to see Jenna holding his boot pistol in her hands.

He died.  No one would cry for him.  The steam-propelled bullet had gone right through his skull.

Uhtmar laid unmoving on the ground.  Jenna rushed to him to see whether he was still alive.  His breathing was slow but steady.  He’d live with rest.

A clarion call echoed across the Plains of Shulman.  Jenna looked up to see hundreds of soldiers and Sermath’kah charging towards the hill. They had been alerted by the noise coming from the Shrine.

“There’s so many of them,” Jenna looked at the pistol in her hand and then the dead knight behind her.  “This is rotten timing.”

“Indeed,” Uhtmar stood up his fur still smoking.  “I’ll need that.”

Uhtmar held out his hand waiting for Jenna to hand him the steamlock.

“I want to help,” Jenna barely came up to his hip.

“No little miss,” Uhtmar shook his great head.  “I cannot fight and worry about you at the same time.”

“There’s too many of them,” Jenna couldn’t believe how worried she was about him.  “You’ll die.”

“I’ve already been dead once today,” the great minotaur took a hold of the steamlock, which she surrendered reluctantly.  “What is one more time.”

“But…”

“No buts little one,” he pushed her up towards the Shrine.  “Now I need you to stay inside the Shrine and lock the door.  They won’t be able to break down the door if they get past me.  You’ll be safe in there.”

Jenna didn’t like the idea but the alternative wasn’t much better either.  She stepped around the dead Steam Knight then stopped an idea forming in her mind.

“Steam armor is magical,” she slipped out of his grasp.  “It fits itself around the wearer.  Like a second skin.  You would stand a batter chance against them with it.”

“B-but I am only a slave,” Uhtmar watched as she tried to get the armor off the dead knight.  “I am not worthy enough.”

“Saying that makes you more worthy of the honor than he ever was.”  Jenna struggled in vain to get the armor off.  “Now, do you know how to get this off him or not?”

Uhtmar turned to see the enemy nearing the base of the hill.

“Yes,” he bent down and keyed in the sequence his dead master had taught him to help take off the armor.  The armor hissed and squealed as it retracted fully into its extradimensional pocket plane.

Jenna was shocked to see that it was no larger than her feather pillow at home and nearly as light.

“Now put it on,” Jenna gave the magical armor to Uhtmar.

He hesitated.

“What’s wrong,” Jenna was beginning to become annoyed.

“I’m not a Steam Knight,” Uhtmar turned over the armor, which looked like a big nap sack.  “I don’t know how to work this.”

“Oh come on, you’ve seen him use it all the time.  I’m sure you’ll be a natural.  Believe in yourself.”

“I have been raised to be nothing more than a slave.”  Uhtmar put the armor on and powered up the suit.  “But you, you I believe in.  Stand back!”

Uhtmar punched in the last command and the suit exploded to envelop him in metal and steam.  It bound to his soul.  Shimmering gold and red in the setting sun of the World of Rielun.  He roared and the armor responded, molding to his head and jaw.  Instead of a steam-powered sword, a great steam chain-axe formed in his right hand.  Instead of a powered gauntlet, a steam cannon formed around his left.  The armor shuddered as it wrapped around his torso and his legs.  A great metal helm molded itself to his horns, shining in the fading twilight like a beacon across the hill.

He roared again and the enemy soldiers shuddered in fear.  Their commanders kept them moving forward, the fear of their masters greater than the minotaur in front of them.

“Go into the Shrine, little one.”  He spoke with confidence but not like Sir Treblet had.  “I will handle this.”

“Be careful,” Jenna knew she’d be no help to him outside the Shrine.  He’d simply worry too much about her and not the enemy in front of him.

She ran into the Shrine keying in the locking sequence, which the wall displayed next to the pad.  The door hissed shut and the steam engine came to life providing a magical boon that would secure the Shrine against physical or magical harm.  The power of the Shrine emanated out across the hill finding Uhtmar’s power source, adding to it.  Soon the armor shone of its own accord and magical energy filled the weapons to capacity.

Uhtmar had never felt the touch of a God before but somehow he knew that Jaua Ae-rielun, the Heart of the World, was with him.  They would not take the Shrine.  He believed in himself for Jenna.

He stepped out on the edge of the hilltop and roared again in defiance of those that would destroy the Balance and harm the innocent.

“I am Uhtmar Umal-Arak, son of Retinsal of Biacc!  Here me dark warriors, I have been a slave, I have been a coward, but today I am reborn!  Today I am Uhtmar of Da’aphet, Steam Knight, Warrior of Delvir Shrine, protector of the Royal Throne, champion of Lady Jenna Hallin… my Queen, my heart, my friend!  None of you shall pass on this day, I swear it to the Heart of the World.”

Uhtmar roared charging down the hill towards the approaching horde.  Jenna had never prayed to Heart of the World before but on that night she prayed for her friend.

*	*	*

“Uhtmar charged into the darkness, fighting dozens of southern soldiers and the Sermath'kah all through the night.  He did not rest, he did not sleep and he did not eat.  He fought and fought and just when I thought he’d been killed he’d come out of the darkness again to defend the Shrine and my life.  Some believe he died dozens of times that night but that the Heart of the World brought him back time and time again until the dawn rose and none were left standing but he.”

“Mother, I’ve heard a different legend that it was your love and friendship that kept him alive.” Sanin smiled at his mother.

“Well, one shouldn’t believe false legends, my son.  I am only a Queen and the Heart of the World is a God.  What makes more sense?”

“True but it’s a better story.”  Sanin watched as his mother turned red as the sun was setting outside the great Bay Window of Palace Hall.

“Anyway, Uhtmar brought me to Da’aphet and was pivotal in freeing the city from the clutches of the Sermath'kah.  He founded a new order of Steam Knights that didn’t exclude any race, regardless of their original homeland.  He stood by the side of the Throne for years protecting your father and I.”

“But what happened to him?  His Horned helm hangs in the Halls of Honor but it doesn’t say how he died?”

The queen closed her journal staring out into the twilight, wondering what to tell him.

“I-I don’t know what happened to him.  One day he simply vanished and his helm appeared in the Hall of Honor.”

“So he could still be alive.  I’d like to meet him.”

“I’d like you to meet him too, my son.  I’d like that very much.  But I don’t think it’s possible.  No, the Warrior of Delvir Shrine is gone.  Most believe he is with the Heart of the World now, a part of him.  Others believe he left for the stars to take the his teachings to others of his kind across the ethereal sky.”

“What do you believe, mother?”

“I-I believe he is still here.  That his body has died but that his spirit lives on protecting those in need.  Watching over us, defending us w-with his Horns of Honor.”  Lady Jenna Kel, Queen of Da’aphet sighed trying not to cry.  He wouldn’t want that.  He’d want his little miss to be strong.

Sanin watched his mother holding her hand as the sun set.  His eager mind had another question though.

“Mother, can you tell me how he single handedly defended the city during the Fourth War?”

“I think that a story for another time, my son.”  Lady Kel laughed holding her son close to her, tears running down her face.  “Another time.”


----------



## Knightfall (Feb 7, 2003)

*On the trail of an assassin...*

*Note:* _This is a story I've previously written, thus, no I did not hurt myself writing this._ 

*Warning:* _This story about Dabuk and Bactra is set a full year ahead of the current post in my World of Kulan Story Hour.  Contains possible spoilers!_

*Friends Forever*
_By Robert Blezard_

The waters of Lake Qualitian churn and break against the shores while gulls circle the small port town of Erret.  The Thallin River flows violently from the narrow delta that divides the lake from the land.  There always seems to be a struggling outpost just over the next rise in this land and Erret isn't any different.  The rugged lakeshore community has only a rough trench filled with sharpened wooden poles as the only line of defense.  If it weren't for the urgency of your 'quest' as Dabuk calls it, you would have liked too have stayed longer and mingled with the locals.

These humans never cease to fascinate you with there strange foreign nature but then again you are the stranger in their lands not the other way around.  It may not be their way to ask personal questions about other people's lives.  In fact, you never know whom you might insult with just a curious look.  It's like Emenok Parkikia always told you 'best not ruffle any feathers or you may lose yours.'  Not that you fear these strangers, in fact, your very nature is to test your strength and willpower whenever you can.  Such is the way of Vasos!  It is written,  'The strong shall lead when others cannot!'  However, part of The Wandering is to not only challenge yourself and others but to respect and learn from other civilized societies!  'For the strong to lead, one must be willing to learn from others.  Only then shall you know true strength.'

"Firewalker."

He had known that Bactra was standing behind him for several minutes and hoped the boy would wait until he had finished his meditation.  This young lad, well young for an elf, had a great deal to learn if he wanted to become a well-known and respected wizard.  Not that he disliked the lad or thought him rash.  In fact, he saw a great deal of promise in him and was reminded of his days before The Awakening.

"Yes, I know.  I be with you shortly."  The young mage hesitated for a moment as if to say something but soon left Firewalker to his meditation.

*			*			*

"Well, where is he?  The trail is getting cold as we speak!"

"He's coming, just be a little more patient Dabuk.  You know he has to meditate in order to gain his full strength.  His connection to Vasos isn't any less important then my spellbook or your faith in Rillifane.  Or have you forgotten?"

Ouch!  Dabuk hates it when his half-cousin is right.  The frustration in his voice has become to common of late but he’d never admit it to his friends.  They would understand but Dabuk’s not so sure about himself.  Not that he’s never had doubts, it's just one can't let their emotions cloud their judgement.  "Your right of course, it's just-"

Bactra grasps his shoulder and a bond stronger than kin passes between them. "I know.  Carl's been like a second father to me.  Don't worry, we'll catch this rat and you can beat the crap out of him when we do."

"Indeed, have faith in the North Gods my friend.  They will guide us to justice just as surely as you will guide us to this vermin."  It never fails to amaze you how Mojo can lift all your spirits with his just a few words.  The man truly has the power of Jalivier running through his veins.

"I am ready to depart."  None of them even heard you come back to camp and your sudden appearance within arms reach has them all reaching for their weapons ready to slay a horde of orcs.

"How did you get so bloody close without me hearing you?"  Dabuk always did hate being beat at his own game.

"A warrior must be ready for anything, my friend.  Sometimes stealth and patience will go farther than any arrow.  Besides, I love testing my skills against such a good tracker as you are.  It helps me keep my edge for battle.  But I am rambling, where is Cheng-Du?"

"He insisted on scouting ahead for any signs of trouble."

"What?  And you just let him go alone, in his state?"

"And how in the name of Hades am I suppose to stop a 9 1/2 foot kreen from doing exactly what he wants?  Explain that one to me!"

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Ok Dabuk, I admit you have a point.  And it is a little dryer today but we must protect him from the effects of the rot whenever we can.  Agreed?"

"Of course!  He's my friend to, even if I can't understand him.  Besides, that magical cloak that Heward Tallinson gave him to protect from the elements seems to be working.  He was very energetic this morning."

"Yes friend Firewalker, he was more like his powerful self today than since Mirella transported us to Harqual.  Praise be to the Goddess of Time and Magic!"  You really admire Mojo's faith but sometimes he can go just a little to far.

"Uh, yes.  Well, we better catch up with him before he tries communing with some farmer's cow."  Dabuk shakes his head at the paladin's infallible faith in the North Gods.

*			*			*

You find Cheng-Du kneeling by a small brook chatting with a school of fish and all you can think of is at least it wasn't a cow.  The huge kreen has been suffering for weeks now due to the wet climate.  He explained it to you as a fungal condition known as chitin-rot.  It has left it dull and streaked with gray bands and it itches constantly.  He's going to need major healing and rest in an arid climate before he feels any better.

He turns slowly to you and stares intently at you with those large oval gentle eyes and beckons for you to come closer with an upper claw.  You and Dabuk move quietly ahead as not to disturb the fish while Bactra and Mojo keep their distance.

Pop - pop - clik, clik -mmmmm - xxkk - pop.

You quickly translate the big kreen's strange language for the others.  "He says he's been asking them about their clutch-mates and about the stream and its source."

Pop - pop - mmm - pop - clik.

"Oh yes, he's been blessing their females that are expecting new young ones."  You grin at your large friend and you sense a calmness pass over the others in the presence of the druid.

You understand his joy because it happened to you over a week ago when Cheng-Du becalmed and healed a young fawn that had been trapped by a gang of brigands.  He is truly a gentle giant when he deals with nature and its splendors.  You watch with awe as the school sways back and forth as he hums a strange druidic song.  There is so much you and Dabuk for that matter could learn from him about his ways and mannerisms with the creatures of the world.

"Come my friends, while I would love to learn more of Cheng-Du's strange and wondrous magic.  It is my duty to remind you of our quest and the peace of mind that will become of it."

Mojo's words snapped Dabuk back to the mission at hand and his duty that he must perform in the name of his grandfather.  "Yes, you are right, we must continue on.  Firewalker, please tell Cheng-Du that it is time to go."

You make several popping and clicking sounds, know as Kreen.  And while you aren’t totally fluent in Cheng-Du's language, it is enough and the big kreen chirps softly to the fish one last time then slowly stands to his full height.  Even in his present condition, you feel small and puny next to him.  All four mandible claws smoothly move as one as he balances himself with his druidic staff.  And all you can think is that glad he's on your side.

You've noticed that the magical cloak quickly covers most of his exposed chitin but never impedes his movement.  Its surface always remains dry even in the worst storm and Cheng-Du as well.  You wonder what other enchantments it holds.

"Now, onward my friends.  To catch the rogue and bring him to justice."  The young paladin really needs to come down off his high horse and spend some time in reality.

*			*			*

The road between Erret and Minar City hugs the shore of Lake Qualitian for miles in each direction.  What started as a well kept cobblestone road quickly transforms into an uneven, dirt path.  Scrub and small wooded patches spreads out in every direction from the road and every few miles you pass a tiny hamlet or isolated farmstead.  They struggle against the wilderness and those in it that would destroy everything they've built.  You can understand why they tell you to continue along your way with stern intolerance and fierce independence.

Besides, you don't have time to chat with the locals and Dabuk is a sure enough tracker not to have to ask if Diamondeye has been seen. He knows that the scoundrel hasn't.  Several times Dabuk leads you off the road and into the bush as he follows the assassin's trail around any areas of civilization, no matter how remote.  Diamondeye is good, but Dabuk is better.

It's been several miles since the last village and the trees start to tower over the road as it bends along the lakeshore.  You can clearly see that it continues on for several miles and each of you becomes alert for any signs of trouble.  Dabuk, Mojo, and Bactra are quite familiar with the denizens of the region and know that anything may be out there.  The sun setting over the water of the lake and Dabuk's intense stare directly into the dense foliage as if the assassin had blazed a trail for him multiplies your concern.

"Dabuk," Mojo lands his giant eagle next to the ranger's horse.  "I don't like the looks of this, anything could be out there waiting for us, even though I didn't see anything from above.  It may be best to camp for the night out in the open rather than following the trail into the woods at night.  The night is clear and I don't think we have to worry about rain washing away his trail."

"Don't tell me your afraid?"  Dabuk continues to stare into the forest with one mind, one goal.

Mojo's face twists with annoyance and he grabs the ranger's arms and pulls him around.  "You dare to presume me a coward after everything we've been through!"

"What the hell am I suppose to think?  Your more devoted to your faith than I've ever seen in anyone but somehow I don't think your heart is in this!  I will follow this assassin into hell and back again until I'm old and gray if I have to!  All you do is talk about bringing him back to justice but did you ever consider the fact that I'll decide what justice he deserves!"  Dabuk never takes his eyes from the woods.

Mojo fierce expression quickly turns into a calm coolness as he moves his mount directly in Dabuk's path.  "I am sorry to hear that.  I realize how important this is to you but you must understand that I can't allow you to just slaughter him without more evidence.  However, there is no guarantee that he will just surrender and if he chooses to fight then I'll stand by your side and bring him down with you."

"Now, as for entering the woods.  I have no fear of any evil that might be in there but to rush headlong into possible danger would surely kill us all.  It could be haunted or worse.  No benefit will come from throwing away your life my friend.  None of the rest of us could continue to track him, as well as you and we would certainly lose him if you fall.  However, if you must go into the forest blind and mad with rage then it my duty as a holy soldier, and your friend, to go with you.  This I pledge in the name of Holy Jalivier."

Dabuk shakes his head and exhales in frustration.  "Mojo, I'm sorry if I upset you but you don't understand.  Do you really think I haven't considered all that?  Look around you, look at where we are.  A long winding deserted road with the lake on one side and thick forest on the other."  He pauses a moment to let what he's saying sink in.  "We can't stay here.  If someone were to surround us on this road they would slaughter us.  We have no choice but to follow the trail into the forest and hope we find a clearing that we can defend and possibly retreat from.  And if you start babbling about paladins not retreating from battle and all that then I'm going to tie you to the nearest tree.  Do I make myself clear?"

"Uh, yes.  I-I'm sorry, I just thought-."  The young paladin hangs his head, ashamed of his ignorance.  "You're the tracker and the woodsmen, it was not my place to question your judgement.  I only hope you can forgive me for my outburst."

Dabuk pats him on the arm and grins at his friend.  "Relax, don't worry about it.  I admit I was being a bit of a jerk.  I should never have accused you of being afraid."

"Are you two done now?  Can we go?"  Bactra stares at them in annoyance and they both realize just how dumb this all was.

*			*			*

The wind whistles through the leaves of the chadur trees as you move quietly into the darkening forest.  Dabuk had insisted that everyone go as unarmored as possible to reduce the amount of noise that you would make.  This meant that Mojo had to strip completely out of his chainmail and go on only with his normal tunic and breeches.  The paladin didn't mind the hassle, understanding the need for stealth during the night.

Mojo sent Ironwing ahead in the air to scout for danger and a suitable encampment.  The giant eagle's keen eyesight would spot any unhidden dangers before any of you could even see it.  Even in the dark the great bird can sense more than others of his kind and his greater intelligence allows him to know just what to do with that knowledge.  This second gift is as of a result of his magical bridle of intelligence that he always wears while the first seems to be a boon from Jalivier himself.

Dabuk takes the lead position, of course, as you head deeper into the woods.  His keen woodlore allows you to move through the dense undergrowth with ease.  Cheng-Du takes the next position scanning the treetops for anything that might try to hide above you.  Mojo took the middle position knowing that his friends' natural talents were more of a benefit than his two-handed sword.  Bactra and you take the last two positions in the order using your enhanced vision to scan the surrounding woods for any other surprises.  However, all were in agreement that a couple scouts spread out to watch your flanks would have been nice.

Several hours pass by as you meander aimlessly through the woods following the assassin's strange trail.  You pass through several natural meadows that Dabuk shakes his head at when questioned about stopping and easily avoid a pack of wolves.  Mojo bumps into Cheng-Du with a thump as the big kreen stops suddenly to smell the air.  

You help the paladin to his feet then turn your attention to the druid.  "What is it my friend?  What do you smell?"

Cheng-Du lets out a low clicking sound that sounds frightening similar to a snarl.

Firewalker turns towards the others. "Smoke."

*			*			*

You soon find yourself at the edge of a man-made clearing, obviously created from the owner of a recently burnt out cabin that smolders in the center of the clearing.

"I don't like this."  Dabuk narrows his eyes to try to pierce through the darkness with his enhanced vision.  "Firewalker, you have the strongest eyes here, what do you think?"

"I do not know, I don't see any movement but I can't see past the remains of the dwelling due to the heat still coming from it.  Perhaps Mojo can sense something."

The holy warrior sits on the ground and crosses his legs.  He closes his eyes and concentrates upon the clearing for several minutes.  "I sense wickedness, fear and death.  All these things have happened here but it's gone now, except the death."

"I have a bad feeling about this."  Dabuk runs his hand through his hair and turns to his friends.  "Bandit's would have only been after coin or furs and would have preferred to leave witnesses in order to gain a little infamy.  If they had killed someone they would have tried to hide the bodies and wouldn't have burnt the cabin down.  That will bring every ranger and druid in the region running towards this site.  Most bandits are not that stupid."

"What happened then?  A rouge dragon."

"A rouge dragon would have caused more destruction and Mojo would have sensed the lingering of its strong aura way sooner than either Cheng-Du or I would have smelled the smoke.  No, more likely it was gnolls or maybe goblinoids.  That would definitely account for the cabin being burned.  Orcs are known to burn the dead of their victims as an offering to their vile god, Gruumsh." 

"Ogres?"  Bactra seemed almost afraid to ask the question.

"No way.  I would smelled them a mile away."

"Well, we are not going to find out if we stand here and talk about it all night.  I say we check for survivors and give the dead a proper burial.  I did not sensed any evil in the clearing or the woods beyond so I'm sure it's safe."  Mojo strides confidently into the clearing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that!"  Dabuk shakes his head and draws his sword and motions for the others to follow the paladin.  "Stay close together and keep an eye on the woods."

One by one you walk slowly into the clearing hoping that Mojo's confidence is more than just ego.  Dabuk takes up the rear and scans the darkness beyond.

"I really don't like this."

The upper frame of the cabin teeters precariously on burnt timbers while ash blows into your eyes as you inspect the structure from a safe distance.  Sweat trickles down the faces of the others from the heat that the hot coals and smoking logs generate, but your training has left you immune to such effects.  Several charred and mutilated bodies lay in front of the ruined dwelling.  The ground is littered with metal weapons and armor that has been bent and melted from some sort of intense heat source.  You have to cover your mouth just to keep from gagging on the stench of burnt flesh and wood combined with melted metal.

"By the North Gods, what sort of beast could have done such a thing!"  Mojo stares at the carnage and is overcome with rage and disgust.

"Nothing natural, I can tell you that."  Dabuk kneels down on his knee and bushes away bits of charred flesh and bone.  "Look at this."

Bactra steps in behind his half-brother stares down at the tracks that the ranger has uncovered.  They appear to be similar to a wolf or great dog but it looks like the ground underneath has been left blackened like soot where it stepped.  They lead off to the west and into the forest and are joined by several other tracks from the same sort of beast.

"What is it?"

Soon you're all standing around and examining the burnt in tracks.  The monstrous nature of the prints is obvious too even the untrained eye.  In fact, it is Mojo who recognizes them first as he stare in horror and disbelief.

"Mighty Jalivier protect us."  The paladin is visibly shaken as he backs away from the tracks and quickly draws his sword.  He turns towards the direction the tracks lead and concentrates upon the woods as hard as he can.  "I can feel them, their are near and coming closer.  They could sense us before I them, this is very bad."

"Mojo."  Dabuk steps in front of Mojo shaking him violently.  "What going on, what do you know about these creatures."

The paladin blinks and lowers his sword slightly.  "They are Demons of Brimstone and Flame."  He pauses and looks at each one of you before continuing.  "When I was a lad I heard stories from my uncle of a beast spawned from some unknown otherplane.  It was said to be a fire-breathing hound with reddish brown fur and a unholy, red glow within its eyes."  His voice rises with each word he speaks.  "It's teeth and tongue are black as its soul and it smells like smoke and sulfur."  Mojo points to the ground where the tracks lay with the tip of his sword.  "It is a large beast, at least up to your waist and burns the ground wherever it's feet have tread."

Suddenly, an eerie, hollow toned howl pierces the night that send a shiver down your spine.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot.  The beast has a tendency to bay at the moon which causes most to panic as the magical fear grips them."

"Tiethien-masitif miet Kalinh. "  Bactra traces an elven, warding symbol in the air and stares nervously at the woods.

Dabuk's eyes go wide with fear as he translates his friend's elven words.  "The Dark Hounds of Hell."

Dabuk draws his magical blade and stands back to back with Mojo as the howling becomes louder and more frequent.  Bactra digs for his components and you begin to chant holy rites in your native tongue.   Cheng-Du clicks his mandibles together violently and readies his gythka for the coming battle.  

Several sets of glowing eyes appear in the darkness at the edge of the woods and you realize that the beasts have somehow surrounded the clearing without you knowing.  

"Damn, I hate unnatural monsters running around in the woods.  I can never sense them like other creatures."  Dabuk's seems more annoyed than afraid by your current circumstance.

"Aye," Mojo turns and quickly puts together some strategy.  "Everyone into a circle around Bactra.  They'll pick us off one by one if we don't stick together."

Bactra looks at his friend with annoyance.  "I am more than capable of defending-"

"Not now Bactra."  Mojo takes his spot with his back to the young elven mage.  His two handed sword clutched in both hands.   "You can be upset at me later.  Besides, it's a good strategy.  Your magic is our best chance against them.  If they got you alone without anyone to cover you they would tear you apart."

Mojo's sobering words sink quickly into his friend and Bactra immediately sets to preparing one of his most powerful spells.

The beasts move slowly out of the woods their eyes shining like unholy lanterns in the darkness.  There are at least six of them and Mojo's description of the beast was more than accurate.  One of the creatures howls horribly and you feel your resolve give for just a second.  They spread out around you staying several feet back from your reach, pacing back and forth as if they're trying to intimidate you.  One of the larger beasts snarls, its black teeth reflect the moonlight in a very eerie fashion.

One of the beasts feints in at you while another on the opposite side breathes hot flame at Dabuk.  He quickly hits the ground to avoid being toasted but not before getting a shot off with his bow.  The arrow bounces off the creature's tough hide barely scratching it.  The beast quickly springs forward preparing to bite the rangers head off but becomes pinned to the ground by Cheng-Du's gythka.  The beast howls in pain once before dying.

Two of the hounds breathe fire directly into Mojo but the young paladin stands his ground as his skin blisters.  He charges forward into one of the beasts and brings his sword down on the creature's head.  Hot, acidic blood pours over the sword as the beast skull splits.  The other moves to jump him from behind just as Dabuk's second arrow finds its mark.  The beast howls and turns to see what wounded it.  It hisses with a violent gleam in its red eyes.  It opens its mouth to breathe flame just as Bactra unleashes his first spell.  The ice knife hits the creature directly in the mouth and its head explodes.

"Nice shot!"  Dabuk pauses to grin at his cousin.

"Thank you.  I thought so too."  Bactra's grin is just as wide.

The three remaining beasts pull back to the edge of the clearing at the site of the magical devastation Bactra caused to their kin.

"Their not so cocky now are they!"  You smile at your friends with your arms crossed over your chest.

"We must go after them."  Mojo steps up beside Dabuk, his skin slightly red due to the creatures flames.  "They must not be allowed to regroup so that can attack again.  We don't know for sure if these are the only ones."

Dabuk grips his sword and nods his head.  "Mojo's right, their evil, unnatural creatures that will kill anything just for the sake of killing.  They might attack another woodsman or even a village.  We had an easy time of it but other less skilled people will be sitting ducks."

You point to the woods with your katana.  "I agree, their obviously malevolent creatures and intensely hostile."

Pop - pop - click - mmmmm - pop.

"Cheng-Du agrees with my assessment."  You turn towards Bactra.  "What do you say young one?"

"Let's get 'em!"  Bactra leans on his staff and grins.

*			*			*

The way seems to open up to you as Dabuk leads you through the dense woods.  He effortlessly guides you from one hidden path to another as he tracks the beasts.

The cold night air stings Mojo's lungs as he tries to find his breath.    Mojo told you once that for as long as he could remember, he had always been the strongest and fastest even when he was a boy.  That was until he met Dabuk.  The young half-elf would have quickly left him behind in any contest of endurance, which bothered him, more than it should.  Envy is not something a promising Sky Knight of Jalivier should feel, no matter what.

Suddenly, the young ranger slows his pace and puts his hand out for silence.  He kneels to the ground and closes his eyes his breathing slow and steady.  Each of you stands in awe as he calls out to the land with his senses seeking aid from the woodland creatures.  He turns his head right and raises his head as if he saw something even though his eyes never open.

"They are very close."  He slowly stands and opens his eyes.  "And there are more of them."

"Just great."  Bactra shakes his head his words forming mist in the cold night.

Cheng-Du comes forward to stand at the mage's side.  He clicks slowly and places a claw on Bactra's arm as if to say it will be all right.

"Thanks, Cheng-Du."  Bactra pats the kreen's claw with his hand.  "I needed that."

"Well, we might as well get on with it."  Mojo remembers to keep his voice down as not to give away there position to every creature that may be lurking in the woods.  "Those things are out there somewhere and we don't want them to be prepared for us when we catch them."

Dabuk motions for silence again stalking off into the woods with the rest of you close behind.  The rest seems to have helped Mojo a little as he matches Bactra stride for stride, a feat worthy of the elf's origin let alone his.

The way twists and turns through the trees and past deadfalls and burnt out trunks.  They have definitely come this way even to Mojo's untrained eye.  The creatures moved with reckless abandon leaving destruction along the path they've cut.  Several small fires have been lit and Cheng-Du falls behind to put them out.  His great speed and ambidextrous limbs helps him stop the spread of the flames and he keeps the worst parts under control.

"No need for stealth now."  Dabuk quickens his strides and draws his sword.  "They know we're coming.  Be ready for anything."

The agile half-elf jumps a rise half his height like a cat and comes down gracefully on the other side.  Bactra soon outdistances Mojo as he and his blood-kin race into the night, spell and steel side by side.  Mojo and you follow in behind as best they can but there is no matching the blood of elves in the woods.

"There!"  Bactra sees them first, his powerful eyes spotting the beasts as they come out of the night.  "I see at least four of them!"

"Five."  Dabuk turns left into the dark where his elven cousin cannot see and jumps a fallen log, his sword flashing in the night.  Fire erupts around him as he disappears from sight.

"Dabuk!"  You rush into the foliage after your friend.

The four Hounds of Hell spew flame all at once in your direction.  The flame flow over you like water off a duck's back as your ring of fire protects you from the blaze.  The beasts seem confused by your lack of singed feathers.  So much so, that Bactra easily turns one of the beasts to ashes with a lightning bolt.

The three remaining beasts turn as race into the darkness away from their remaining companion seeking to save their own hides.  Mojo follows right behind them trying not to lose sight of the beasts.

"Larea guide me."

His words echo into the woods and the way seems less twisted than before.  His faith in not only his own Lord Jalivier but that of The Lady of the Woods acts a beacon in the night as he catches sight of the beasts ahead.  It’s as if he knew he would, the same way he knows that the North Gods watch over him and all he would protect from evil.

Suddenly, out of the darkness Bactra appears beside him as the two bear down on the three creatures.  Two of the creatures continue to run while the third stops and turns an evil glint in its eyes, smoke billowing forth from its maw.

"Down!"  Bactra lunges at the young paladin as flame spews over their heads.  The force of hitting the ground knocks the wind from the young mage and Mojo sword skitters across the ground.  

"By the North Gods, I didn't see that coming!"  Mojo scans the ground for his sword trying to find his blade in the dark.  He was glad that Bactra had been there to save his life but he felt helpless without his sword.  His hand finds the hilt of the sword just as the beast steps on the blade pinning it to the ground.

"Oh, oh."  Mojo looks up into the beasts glowing, red eyes as it snarls at him.

"Wind roar!"  The beast topples back as Bactra's gust of wind spell knocks the creature off its feet.

"Ha, it didn't expect that!"  Mojo quickly finds his feet and pounces on the prone creature his sword sinking deep into its hide.  "Well, done my friend.  We make a excellent team."

Bactra stands in silence with his head down then turns towards the way they came.  "Dabuk-"

"I'm sorry Bactra, but don't write him off yet.  That young lad is a bloody lion."  He pats his friend on the back.  "I'm sure he's fine."

Mojo's blood runs cold as one of the other beast's howls nearby.  "Damn, they're pesky critters.  All that ungodly howling and such."

Two of the beasts jump out of the dense foliage to either side of the paladin and mage and all thoughts of worrying about Dabuk take a backseat to making sure they survive to find out.

"Back to back!"  Mojo barks out the order by sheer instinct.  "Use your staff, they're to close for your magic."

"Don't worry about me."  The elven mage pulls the Rod of the Elements from under his robe.  "As long as I hold this their flame can't hurt me.  But I can hurt them.  Ground apart!"

All of a sudden, the earth beneath the hound closest to Bactra opens up and swallows the beast.  And just as quickly, Bactra waves his hand and the ground starts to close.  The beast tries to howl but the ground smothers it into silence.

The sight visibly shakes the young paladin and he not so sure he likes Bactra's magic as much as he did a moment ago.  Wind is one thing but this, this was horrific.  It's the opening the other hound needs to strike.

"Mojo, look out!"

He turns back towards the beast as it pounces on him its jaws bared ready to kill him with a snap.  He barely keeps the creature at bay with one arm and thinks to himself 'stupid, stupid'!  He was so worried about Bactra that he forgot about watching his back.  The young mage can take care of himself now if only he could do the same.

Cheng-Du's throwing chatkcha suddenly appears in the creature's skull and the beast slumps overtop of the young knight.  The big kreen steps from the woods his gythka in hand and clicks at you with approval.

"Your timing is impeccable my friend."  Mojo pushes the creature off and slowly stands favoring his arm.  "I think I might have hurt something."

"And here you were worried about me."

Mojo looks up to see Bactra leaning on his staff and grinning like a cat.  The look is so comical and Mojo shakes his head.  How could I have thought his magic is tainted by darkness?  “I feel like a fool.”

"I see everything here is under control."  A familiar voice pierces the darkness and you all turn towards the direction it came.  Out of the night strides the most confident bugger they'd ever known.

"Dabuk!"  Bactra rushes to greet his half-brother and grasps his arms in the shahee, an old elven bond stronger than mere blood.  The young ranger is a little ragged looking but he'll survive.  "Where's Firewalker?"

Dabuk shakes his head and sighs.  "It's not good."

*NOT THE END*


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## Knightfall (Feb 7, 2003)

*Epilogue to Friends Forever*

*Departure*
_By Robert Blezard_

You've been staying at the Leaping Lion Inn for the last two months.  The inn stands near the docks of the Wharf District and the view from the front of the Lion is breathtaking in the early morning.  The rays of the rising sun radiate off the calm waters of Tepin Bay while the local fishing fleet sets off for a hard day's work.  The many-colored sails gleam like dragonflies above the shallow water of the bay.

If it wasn't for your current situation, you might have considered staring at the scene for hours.  Elves are like that.  A calm, reflective life mixed with many long moments of shear joy and peace.  However, the long sorrowful sigh that steams out of your lungs into the cold morning air betrays your disturbed soul.  How long has it been since you were in your homeland, running with your brothers and sisters through the vales and glades of the Knotwood.  It seems like forever.

Oh, having Dabuk around has helped and you wonder what would become of your torn soul if it weren't for the presence of your half-cousin.  But lately, it hasn't helped.  Not since the Hounds, not since what happen to Firewalker.  The injuries had been life threatening; if not for Cheng-Du he surely would have died.  It took several days to bring him to a point where you were able to move him and the trip to Minar City had nearly been the end of him several times along the way.

The Priests of the Longwood Temple of Daghdha, outside the city, refused to heal the nagpa thinking him a foul demon bird.  The nerve of some humans drives you crazy.  Only the clerics of the Temple of the Wind of Jalivier would allow the alien foreigner into their temple.  And only after Mojo vouched for Firewalker.

Ha!  The Priests of Daghdha were a little less arrogant when they learned that the supposed 'demon bird' turned out to be an intelligent priest from a distant, exotic land.  Boy did they grovel. You have never seen human's become so humble so fast in your 100 plus years of existence.  If it had been you they snubbed, you would have scorched their backsides with a fire cantrip.  But that has never been Firewalker's way.  Not only did he forgive them but also invited them to sit with him and Cheng-Du in a ceremony called Kic-hi-miktah, the Peace Star.

His good heart has never ceased to amaze you.  That makes what he just told you all so difficult to take.  He and Cheng-Du are leaving.  Dabuk was confused of course, he didn't see what the problem was even if everyone else did.  That was Dabuk's one fatal flaw, he's become so unemotional the last few years.  Firewalker's body had healed but not his spirit.  Yes, he still believes with all his heart but he is unsure of his worth to Vasos… ever since the hounds.

There had been more of them than even Dabuk knew.  The hounds had lured them into a trap where two more of its kind waited to ambush Dabuk and Firewalker.  Firewalker did not see them in time and both came down on him at once.  Their flames did no harm of course due to his ring but their strong jaws tore at his flesh nearly snapping his arm off.  Dabuk was able to dispatch the three beasts once he got them off the nagpa but the damage they did.  The wounds may have healed but the scars, the internal ones, have not.

He's hid it well from Dabuk and Mojo but not from you or from Cheng-Du.  Several times you've heard the nagpa tossing and turning in the night through the wall of the inn.  And somehow the big kreen just knew.  However, he won't admit it to anyone and that would be a sign of weakness in his faith.

"I can't believe your really leaving!"  You haven't seen Dabuk look so grim since that day he came out of The Guildhall in Fruen after seeing Carl in his deathbed.  Maybe he did understand.

"I-I have to!"  Firewalker stares passively to the south, his back to you.  "I am on a journey to see the world so that I might better serve Vasos when I return home.  Besides, it is growing colder each day and not even the magical cloak the Tallinson gave Cheng-Du will protect him from this thing you call frostbite.  He must go south and I must go with him.  He saved my life.  I owe him a debt that I doubt I'll ever be able to repay.  He doesn't understand your language and he would surely end up beleaguered by 'monster hunters' without me to interpret for him."

Firewalker looks over his shoulder and smiles at you.  "And don't worry my friends, Cheng-Du and I will be back to see you again soon."

"Damn, I don't believe this."  Dabuk had been staring at the ground silently until the nagpa finished.  Then throws up his hands, turns around and marches abruptly past Mojo coming out of the inn.

"He's going to miss you."  Bactra grins at Firewalker.

"I know."  The nagpa holds out his good arm and clasps Bactra's forearm.  "Take care of yourself young one and keep an eye on your friends!  They're a little overemotional."

"Hey, I resemble that remark."  Mojo laughs from the steps of the inn.  He’s quite the site in his new, fullplate, which he was loaned from the local temple.  "I'll miss you my friend, you've been a sturdy companion and fine warrior.  You can fight alongside me any day."

"Thank you Mojo."  Firewalker seems a little shaken by the paladin's praise.  "It was an honor for me as well."

Sometimes the human just knows the right thing to say.

"So where is our giant friend.  I wish to give him a proper salute goodbye as well."  Mojo scans the street for the kreen to no avail.

"Cheng-Du is waiting outside the gate for me to come."  Mojo laughs at the curious glances from the mage and paladin.  "He's not being overemotional, it is the law of his druidic order never to say goodbye to fellow travelers.  It's bad luck to start a journey that way."

"Oh, understood."  Mojo nods his head and gives Bactra a goofy grin.  "Wouldn't want to cause any bad luck."

Mojo quickly stands at attention and salutes Firewalker with the Arion-quial, the Navirian warrior blessing.  He then turns and clomps back into the inn.

"You were saying about being overemotional."  Bactra stifles a laugh and shakes his head.

"Ha!"

The mood quickly becomes mellow in awkward silence that follows

"My people have a ritual for this sort of thing as well."  Bactra stares down at the ground his words just above a whisper.  "When a elf is leaving upon a quest or going to Arvandor for his final rest a family member or friend would stand and watch him depart for their journey in silence until the elf has passed out of sight."

"Sounds like a wonderful ritual to me, my friend.  May Vasos give you strength."

"Sehanine go with you, Firewalker."

You stand there as he walks away from the Leaping Lion towards the city's gate waving to the locals who he befriended with his strong words and pure heart.  You watch him go up the winding streets through the crowds until he passes from your view.  Without a word you climb the stairs of the inn and pass though the entry with just a click of the door.

*THE END*


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## Knightfall (Mar 6, 2003)

*Narrative Intro to The Lost City*

Something for my World of Kulan Story Hour devotees to chew on while I hurt.  I wrote this _way_ before I started writing my World of Kulan Story Hour here on EN World.

Note: This little narrative is set on the continent of the Fallenlands.  It is several months before the story I posted about the PCs  fighting the Hell Hounds on Harqual.

Note 2: This contains the previously posted Fallenlanden Legend, The Five Treasures of the Geniekind.  You may reread or skip that part depending on your mood.

Warning: ** Definite Spoilers**

Cheers!

Rob
----------------------

*Zeppapian's Master*

_During your stay in the valley, Zeppapian has introduced you to countless nobles and courtiers including Haukuai Tawcaw and the entire Royal Family.  The Haukuai, which means Lord-Above-All, is glad that Master Zeppapian has returned home and welcomes the characters to the Valley of NarsKasis.  He invites them to stay as honored guests for as long as they'd like.

However, Dabuk is obsessed with finding this Ogrebane, if it does exist.  He has constantly badgered Zeppapian about the weapon and its location.  With a sigh, Zeppapian mutters something under his breath about 'youthful impatience' but agrees to introduce you his master, the most learned scholar in NarsKasis._

*	*	*

The climb up the large knoll was easy enough and the surrounding landscape is best described as picturesque.  At the top of the knoll is a small structure best described as an oddly shaped hovel made from wicker.  Clothing hangs on a line from the edge of the structure to a large tropical tree.  Several tropical birds eye you cautiously from a nest on top of the dwelling.  As you approach the structure you hear raspy snoring from inside.

Zeppapian looks at you with a lopsided grin.  "Not what you expected, is it?"

He steps through the open doorway failing to notice the string of tin and copper cups stretched across the bottom of the frame.  The cups clatter together making an awful noise as Zeppapian trips sprawling onto the ground.  The characters can't help laughing at their friend lying face first in the doorway of the hovel.

The snoring abruptly stops.  "What!  Who is there! Come on, speak up!"

"I should have known."  Zeppapian pulls himself up dusting himself off.

"Zeppy, is that you?"

"Ah, Master Nethander, please don't call me that." Zeppapian seems a little less awe inspiring covered in dust.

"Now don't be that way, youngling!"

"Zeppy?  Youngling?"  Dabuk is grinning at the embarrassed nagpa.  "This was worth the trip."

"Hmm, what is this?"  The old sage pokes his out of the doorway looking at characters.  He adjusts his wire-rimmed spectacles studying each one of them in detail.  "Still hanging around with strangelings I see."

"Master, please don't call them that.  They are my honored guests while in the valley.  They have come all the way from Harqual to ask your advice about a matter of grave importance."

"Oh very well Zeppy," the nagpa sage clucks at Zeppapian. The old sage moves into the dim light of twilight.  The nagpa has light brown skin, dull bluish feathers on his head, neck and arms and is wearing a long grey robe.  He has a greenish yellow beak and deep purple eyes.

"Now, come inside all of you before make a mess of my laundry."  The old nagpa turns on his heels and shuffles back into the hovel.

Zeppapian sighs shaking his head.  He beckons you forward before following his master inside.  The hovel is a cluttered mess of parchment, old books, vials of different colored liquids.  Despite the clutter, the hovel is surprisingly free of dust.  Bactra wonders how the nagpa sage can keep it so dust free.

Master Nethander walks across the floor supporting himself with his large metal staff.  The staff's head is made of Jecrite and is shaped like the head of the dragonwyrm you encountered in the desert.

"And what pray tell is so important that you interrupted my nap and made a-."

"They are searching for-"

"Don't interrupt Zeppapian, after all we have guests."  Nethander shakes a claw at his old student.  "I'm sure the strangelings can speak for themselves.  Now, who wants something to eat, hmm?"

"Actually, we don't have time for this."  Dabuk is just to blunt for his own good sometimes.  "Now, if you have any knowledge about the magical weapon known as Ogrebane then I need to hear it."

"Dabuk!"  Mojo looses his patience with his friend's rude behavior.  "Master Nethander has graciously let us into his home as guests and you treat him like some roadside ruffian!"

Dabuk sighs in frustration but knows Mojo is right.  He leans against the doorframe looking out towards the waterfall in the distance.  "I am sorry."

"You don't sound-" Mojo turns to scold his friend again but the old nagpa sage waves his hand in protest.

"It's quite all right, young one.  He's just speaking his mind.  I can respect that.  But," the old sage pauses long enough to stare at Dabuk.  "I will tell you everything that I know after we have some krak-kaws and tea.  All right?"

"Understood."  Dabuk smiles nodding his head.  He could learn to like this old sage.

"Good."  Nethander snaps his claws together conjuring up an _unseen servant_, which whisks away into an adjacent room you didn't notice before now.

The characters spread out and sit down where they can find room.  Mojo stands in a corner where the light is shining through the door.  Jeddar leans against the other side of the doorway next to Dabuk while Mesik and Crelias squat on the floor.  Bactra and Hegron clear several large tomes off two low whicker chairs and sit down.

Bactra then notices that the hovel is definitely larger inside that outside.  The elven mage makes a mental note to ask Master Nethander about his home and its obvious enchantments.

The old sage hobbles over to the other side of the dwelling and struggles to pull himself into a large wooden chair.  Zeppapian rushes over to help his old master but Nethander shoos him away.  The Claw Magus sits next to the old nagpa with a look of genuine affection in his eyes. Nethander pats Zeppapian on the shoulder and finally pulls himself into his chair.

The _unseen servant_ breezes back into the room carrying a large tray of tea and the krak-kaws.  The summoned servant floats around the room passing out the refreshments then disappears back into the other room.  Nethander snaps his claws again and a large, leather-bound tome appears in his lap.  The sage leans his staff against the wall behind him and opens the book.

"Now, let's see.  I know it's in here somewhere.  Ah, here it is."

The old nagpa clears his throat then begins to read out loud.



> _*The Five Treasures of the Geniekind*
> 
> Long ago during the Age of the Nagpa, the Fallenlands were known by a more regal name, Margoth-Nal.  It was during this age that nagpas lived everywhere on this continent, from what is now known as the Sipwi Peninsula to the verdant lands beyond the Shield.  We, the blessed of Chagnal, ruled the continent with the same grace and dignity that we now rule the Valley of NarsKasis today.  During this time the land was covered with lush forests and rolling hills.
> 
> ...




Nethander closes the large tome then waves his hand.  The volume disappears in a puff of smoke.  The old sage picks up his tea sipping it.

Dabuk stared down the old nagpa shaking his head.  "Ok, now tell me what that had to do with Ogrebane?"

Mojo snaps at Dabuk.  "You need to learn proper etiquette when in someone else's home!  Such behavior is unacceptable!"

"Not very patient are you young one?"  Nethander clucks with a smile staring at the young ranger.  "Now, you see during the creation of the Black Storm Sea the Five Treasures were used to permanently bind the magic used to the world.  The artifacts were scattered across the world hidden on the continents of Kulan.  It is said that the Bow of Wind could kill an ogre mage with one shot and was nicknamed Ogrebane by the evil creatures.

It is said to rest within the old Efreet City of Lafar in the center of the Volcanic Lands.  If you wish to recover the artifact you will have to find a way to survive the intense heat there."

Nethander snaps his claws and another tome appears on his lap.  The withered old nagpa opens it scanning the pages for several minutes.  "Hmm, let's see.   Ah, here it is."

"There was a great city in the heart of a lush forest, north of NarsKasis, during the Age of the Nagpa called Cyrad.  Its inhabitants were strangelings much like you.  They had a ruler named Alexander and worshipped several strange gods.  It is written here that their ruler died of a rare disease called Hakk."

The old sage stops reading for a moment to clean his spectacles.  "The disease is quite interesting really.  If you'd like I can tell you more once I've done some research.  It will only take a few hours."

Dabuk grinds his teeth impatiently trying not to lash out at the eccentric old nagpa.

Bactra clears his throat.  "You'd best continue, Master Nethander."

"Yes, Dabuk get rather cranky when you make him stand around listening for more than five minutes."  Jeddar was enjoying the story but knew Dabuk would become more impatient if the story sidetracked.

"Very well," Nethander clucks quietly staring at Dabuk with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.  He turns the page of the book reading the next passage.

"The ruler had a great pyramid constructed for their strangling gods.  And when Alexander's wife died he buried her within.  Several decades passed before the ruler died of old age.  Before he died he instructed his people to bury him within the pyramid as well.

With each generation of monarchs it became necessary to expand the pyramid.  But it is written here that the unwary workers dug up an ancient evil, from the city's past, which laid waste to the temples within the pyramid.  The city fell into chaos and all contact with it was lost.

The last section here says that the beast was said to possess a powerful magical item that protected it from the magical energies that the city's wizards tried to destroy it with.  Even the most powerful winds, hottest flames and raging floods could not kill it.  This item might allow you to pass through the harsh terrain of the Volcanic Lands unharmed.

"Do you know where the city is, Master Nethander?"  Mojo wanted to move things along.  Dabuk wasn't the only one feeling fidgety.  Both Mesik and Hegron looked bored.

"Not precisely, but I'm sure the information can be found at the Great Library of Knowledge in Craloona."

"Thank you, Master Nethander."  It was the first polite thing out of Dabuk's mouth since they'd arrived.

"Oh you're quite welcome, young one."

The _unseen servant_ whisks back into the room to gather up the used teacups and plates.

Zeppapian pats the old sage on the hand.  Then the Claw Magus stands waving his hands towards the door.  "It is time for us to go.  Master Nethander needs his rest."

"Nonsense!  I'm still as energetic as I was when you first came to study with me all those years ago, Zeppy."

Zeppapian looks at the ceiling his feathers turning red.  "Master, please don't-"

"Oh very well!  Zeppapian… there are you happy?  I just hope you will be as strong as I when you reach your 2000th year!"

Dabuk raises an eyebrow in disbelief.  Bactra drops his teacup while handing it to the _unseen servant_.  Mesik whistles in awe.  Mojo just stands there with his mouth wide open.

"Ah, strangelings."  The old sage clucks to himself.


----------

