The realistic adventure

 The stories of Samovar

A pet for a Prince.

  There have been inquiries concerning the animals which inhabit Castle Samovar.  These would include the Zoological Gardens, the domestic animals kept by the Shopkeepers, creatures which frequent the apartments of Strider, and to a lesser extent, Maude, and, of course, the cats.  

They say a Picture is worth a thousand words, and Goliath does love to be made into an image, just because he has, perhaps, a bit of admiration for his own appearance.  And so, without further ado: 

Personally I always feel more “secure” when the cats are about.  I suppose I should enumerate them, and note their names, but they’re somewhat shy, and tend to be secretive.  It’s enough that you know Goliath, without meeting Samson, Atalanta, or any others.  

Growing up in the Dark

    The sun rose, not that anyone knew of it, in the realm of the 'Dark Elves'.  Day and night were simply conventions there, far below the surface of Newhome, where lived those who had lost access to the bright, upper world.  It had been thousands of years since the passages from 'below' to 'above' were closed by the cataclysm.  Almost everyone died, in that event, and those who survived were faced with a harsh life.  Food was scarce, and water was often unclean.  Only the pale microorganisms which gave light were available, for many decades.   Eating them was unhealthy, but not fatal.

     Gradually, those trapped in the darkness were able to locate the magical houses that made food.  Not many of the dwellings survived, but those that did were a Godsend.  Over time, some of the magical light sources renewed, and the microscopic plants, that made light, flourished.  In less than a thousand years, the under darkness became livable, and those who were forced to dwell there began to survive more easily.  It is best not to dwell on the early centuries, because of the wars and famine which brought plagues and death.  It is enough to say that it was a dark time, both from the actual darkness, and the darkness which grew among the inhabitants.  The 'Grey Dwarves', the 'Deep Gnomes' and the Drow , or Dreaux, Elves were all affected.  Good and Evil fought, and continue, to this day, to fight in the dark places below.  It is a fact of life, in that realm, that every child is born to be a warrior first, and whatever life brings him, second.  Nature itself has become a hazard, because of there being so little forage for so long.  It is a constant desire among all of Humankind, that lives in the underearth, to find a way to return to the surface, and the good life that was once so taken for granted. 

    Over the centuries, the various divisions of humankind had established kingdoms, ruled in various ways, according to race.  The Gray Dwarves had a council of Elders, the Deep Gnomes had their Assembly, and the dark elves had a Queen, and royal family.  Rule by royalty was not a common thing among elves, save for a titular Queen, who was the head of the governing council, but among the dark elves it was a Monarchy.  For so long, it had been a war to survive, and it was  more so for the Drow than for the other races, due to their nature.  

   Dwarves tend to have storehouses that hold common goods, and as such were better equipped than any other race.  The Gnomes had stores as well, and sharing was so common that they never lost it.  Only the elves were destitute, and it changed them.  They became bitter, acquiring an evil outlook, and, because they lost trust and friendship, they lived among the shadows.  Only recently have they begun to rediscover the value of the common good.  

    In one of the largest areas, where order reigned, a single noble house came to power.  It was the Drow of House of Leutain, ruled by the Matre Aelfbrun.  This family was powerful in the extreme, since it had incorporated its enemies into the regime, during the wars fought against the dark male king.  Women rule the House of Leutain, and will always do so.  This had always been the law in the realm of the dark, or as some called themselves, the cinnamon elves.  The attempt of that Dark Male who sought to rule, had benefited the Dark Elves in general, by uniting so many of them against a common enemy.  It did not, however, benefit the males of the race in any way.  They were now 'second class citizens'.  House Leutain was the single most powerful political force among the elves of underdark, and had no real rival, save perhaps House Fantome. 

    So it was that there was not much, in the way of Fanfare, when a son was born. That he was large, even as a baby, was unfortunate.  Dark Elves prize the slender form, not caring for those who are too 'muscular', or heavy.  The baby boy was named Henri, le Chat Noir. His mother, wanting a daughter, sent him to the league of assassins when he was still young.  This was both to be rid of him, and for political reasons, as the league was more strongly affiliated with the Fantome faction.  Over the next century and a half, the boy learned.  Unwelcome at home, and friendless because of his size, he became a cold, hard, vision of death.  Le Chat Noir became 'tueur à gage', or hitman.  He became a force in politics, supporting his house, because he wanted his rank.  The Matre finally granted him the status of Fils de Leutain, or what a human would call a Prince of the Blood.

  A few decades after he began to matriculate in the society of the nobility, he discovered many of the male dark elves wanted a greater equality in their world.   This had led to a disastrous war in the past, and would again, unless something was done.  Le Chat began to develop his own network of spies and allies, so that he could bring both political and social pressure to bear, when the time came.   Among these was a woman of royal birth, who returned his attentions with gusto.  Sophronia was the perfect choice, for Black Cat, as a wife.  Not only beautiful and intelligent, she was also progressive in her ideas and socially.  Someone noticed that she and Black Cat were building a network, and killed her.  This created a problem, in that Black Cat was not used to love, and even less to loss. Regarding the problem as a 'target' of his skills as an assassin, Le Chat moved with great care, so as not to arouse suspicion or give notice of his intent.  He was very nearly successful.   He so badly injured the leader of his opposition, and with such clandestine methods, that no one even suspected him.  He then gathered himself to stop their plan.  Leaderless, those who would be rulers among the Dreaux, males who refused to be subservient, even in token ways, waited too long.  When the men were ready to strike, hoping for a coup de grace, Le Chat broke up their support, through a combination of extortion, outright blackmail and other forms of exaction.  He had assembled an entourage of those who wanted to achieve a similar goal, but through peaceful means.  The Coup failed, and peace prevailed, with a result that some of the more onerous laws were either repealed or softened.  A very large contingent of dark elf males were very angry.  Le Chat, disillusioned with the prospect of royalty,  decided to lead an expedition into the unknown.  Upward leading caverns had been found, that were suspected of leading to the surface.  How this was possible, no one knew, but Le Chat needed to be anywhere but in court, and without suspicion.  His exploratory band was primarily composed of those who, like him, had many new enemies.  All of them, and his loyal retainers, set out into the unknown passages that led to either somewhere, or nowhere.

    Le Chat had brought some of the best candidates from his old academy, since failure there was usually fatal.  The candidates, having no other prospect of survival, were more than happy to join the nobleman on his 'fools quest'.   Considering the trip in question, the troop was a small one, but it was as large as Le Chat could supply.  They were soon set upon by various monsters of the Dark, but not any that were unexpected.  It was the dark elves they left behind who constituted the greatest danger. It's axiomatic that, had they not been fleeing, Le Chat and his followers might not have made the passage to Port Narl, on the surface of Thoss.  Coming out into a world with a sky was, to say the least, a bit agoraphobic to the entire party.

    They quickly became 'night people', clinging to the cavernous streets of the old city.  Port Narl was already known for it's 'underside' and the dark elves melted into that mire easily.  As assassins, thieves and general 'agents for hire', Le Chat, and his people found a place where they could survive.  Then, one day, he saw a familiar face in the crowd.  When the Males who had failed to take control found that they had no Le Chat upon whom to exact vengeance, they had tried again to seize control.  The women were victorious, but it was a Pyrrhic victory, and most of the entitled males had perished.  Some of the remainder sought to come to the surface, to find Black Cat, for whatever reason.  They also sought many who had come with him, anxious to learn their fate.  None of this became known to Black Cat, for many years.  He simply remembered that his life wasn't worth much in the underdark, and the lives of many of his compatriots were worth less than his.

    He gathered his people, and explained that the dark elves from 'below' had found the way up.  He explained that he was going to another city, and they should await his return, when he would have some place for them to go.  He went North, toward the human realm.

    His journey to Chevalier was uneventful, except for an encounter with bandits, along the way.  They emerged from the foliage, convinced that they had found a nice, fat cat, to rob.  It proved more of a cave lion, and Le Chat was pleased  that they carried so much in the way of treasure.  He instantly made the decision to become an Adventurer, and make some 'easy money'.  In Chevalier, he learned of the Sewers almost immediately, and even took a job with the City Guard, for a while.  All he had to do was kill the giant rats and occasional miscreant, who used the sewers as a base to prey on the upper world citizens.  He reflected on the myriad of dark elves who might use the underworld as criminals,  should a path to the surface become more widely used. This reminded him of his responsibilities, and he resigned his post, to become a 'sewer rat' who roamed the sewers for treasure and items of worth.  He was soon known as one of the most dangerous things in the sewer.  He was largely nameless, now, because he needed not to be known by his old name, and had no new one.  He decided that it would be good to expand his horizons.

    Le Chat, using the name Hitman, hooked up with a rowdy bunch of Adventurers who were going west, to make a fortune.  They had heard of opportunities, out in the Samovar region.  This was an area where ruins could be found, some of which held magic and other valuables. Le Chat quickly learned that the rogues weren't reliable, but they fought well, and he made some lucrative encounters while with them.  Finally they went somewhere that was too dangerous for the group, and Le Chat found himself recovering in Targun, at the Inn.  He felt less the outcast while he was there, since the Inn was run by a Blue Creature of some seven feet in height, who seemed color blind to his patrons.   Coin was all he asked, and quiet, civilized, behavior. Le Chat had plenty of both, and used the coin as he had to and the civilized behavior as much as he could.   After he had been there a month, he decided that he needed to go back to Chevalier. 

    "How would one travel to Chevalier," He asked, "In the safest way?"

     " If 'twere I", Kerlock, the Innkeeper/Stablemaster, responded, " I'd join up with Hoden's caravan.  He always seems to get where he's going, and his guards are the best there are."

    "Would he allow a Dark Elf to take passage?" Le Chat asked,

    "I can't see it making a difference," Kerlock answered, " He's never been one to judge by color or race.  Talk to him, what can it hurt?"

    " I believe I shall," Le Chat finished.

    The conversation with Hoden was short, and sweet.  He explained that Le Chat could travel with him, but that the other travelers might not treat him well.  If the Dark Elf could deal with that, then he was more than welcome to come along.  A graduate of the Assassin's guild, Le Chat was more than familiar with disguise, and asked if he might adopt one.  Hoden agreed that the idea was sound, and assured Le Chat his secret would be safe.

By the time the caravan was ready, there was one more traveler, among the caravansary.  The nondescript human who joined the caravan was unremarkable to everyone there.  He found a caravan wagon with space, hired it, and made ready to depart.   

    On the very first day, Le Chat had a revelation.  He saw a half-elf boy on a destrier.  He was an accomplished appraiser.   He knew the value of the horse, he knew the value of the clothes/armor. He knew the value of the weapons.  He decided to learn the value of the man.  Hoden told him that the boy was going to the Academy at Lackland, to become a King's Knight.   

    "Mon Dieu", thought Le Chat, " He can't be more than eighteen summers."

    He began to watch the young man.  He realized that the boy was 'magic blind' and was, again, amazed at his fortitude.  He didn't hang back, and actually spent time guarding the way.  Most of the 'magic blind' lived lives of reclusion and fear. This one was actually proving useful to the group.  Le Chat was again surprised, by the young man's ability to spot danger in the woods, and began to keep an eye on him as a lookout.  He decided to make this person someone he would travel close to.  Once he had learned, by eavesdropping, of the blood monkeys that had been stalking the caravan, he decided that he would pick his fights to be near the young knight candidate, who's name, he learned, was Sam.  The man was proving to be worth as much as his gear.

    Le Chat was not pleased to learn that young Sam had killed a harpy, even a small one.  Harpies were the stuff of legend, and a single crossbow bolt through the heart was something to be proud of.  Too bad Sam didn't know what he'd killed.  When they approached the Crossroads, and Sam was the first to arm himself, Le Chat decided that he would remain close to the young man until it was clear what was happening.  When Sam chose to move away from the main body of guards, he had a shadow that no one saw.  Le Chat knew that Sam had sensed, or divined, something.  When, in but a moment, Sam actually put his lance through an Ogre, Le Chat was there.  He awaited  his opening, hoping Sam could survive long enough to provide one, and it came.  Le Chat had spent over a century learning how to do the most damage possible, in a single surprise attack.  With something the size of an Ogre, one could only hope to disable, not kill outright.  As archers blinded the creature, and it turned to try to attack Sam, Le Chat struck.  Driving his blade deep into the muscles and sinew, he almost completely disabled the arm, and gave Sam his opening as well.  Sam's sword went well into the brain artery, before the creature batted him away.  Since that wound was mortal , Le Chat hamstrung it and, as it fell, methodically finished it.   It was the work of a moment, and then he checked to see if his young man lived.   He found himself relieved that Sam was only badly bent, not broken.  He tried to avoid the other travelers, since his disguise had been shed for the fight, but to no avail.  He explained that he had been traveling in disguise, since Dark Elves were given a bad reputation since, well, forever, and he wished to avoid being a source of discord.  He was quickly assured that his presence here was welcome and he need not resort to further disguise.  He had helped kill an Ogre, and that was more than enough for the people around him.

    It was a quiet night, after the Ogre died, and Le Chat realized that he hadn't had to give his name, and was now accepted into the caravansary.  He began to realize  that his fate might be tied to that of Sam, and that was helped by the sack of coin he got for his part in killing the Ogre.  He kept watch, as he slept, in the way that dark elves do.  He was up and moving in the morning, and was as surprised as anyone at the noon stop.  Some very serious wards were set, the kind that would even stop him.  When he learned of the Cavebarrows, and that they were lying in ambush, he was suddenly very glad that he had chosen to be in this caravan.  If any group could survive the trip ahead of them, it would be this one. 

    It was sometime during this passage, up the pass, that Le Chat began to realize that Sam had a small magic.  When he sang, things happened.  It had to be some form of magic, because Le Chat new what was natural, and what was not.  Often his life had depended on the knowledge, and he saw the same ability in Sam.  His apparent 'magic blindness' had fostered a close affinity with nature.  The boy also had good reflexes and moved well.  He'd make a great thief, had he the disposition.  Whether he'd make a Knight, time would tell.

    The march up to the pass was hard on Le Chat, because it was so very open.  He was distressed in a way the had never been before.  He found himself keeping within the barracks, and out of the light.  It took all three days for him to calm down.  He blamed the monsters for this and was as angry as he had been in recent memory, at them.  When Hoden made his speech, cautioning everyone not to hurry down the pass, Le Chat was almost hoping that some of them would overtake the caravan.  His remark, "There will be blood" was a saying from his homeland.  It simply meant that something would die, to pay for the trouble it had caused him.  He was pleased that most of the warriors in the caravan spoke out in agreement. Still, he had a bad feeling about this trip, down to Chevalier.   He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was not right.  When Sam decided to 'go hunting' he understood his feeling.  The presence of a large herbivore, along the road and close enough to see, meant that the monsters were not traveling on the ground.  When the Wartearn appeared, he was not surprised.    When he learned that it carried an Ahnis, then he was not only surprised but he felt the icy hand of fear in his heart.  Fear couldn't stop him, but he knew that an Ahnis was almost undefeatable, without serious magic or some legendary weapon.  The things sometimes killed Dragons.  When the Paladin unseated it, Le Chat used a spell, that he knew, to confuse it's magic.  The spell only worked for a very short time, but it would give the guards on the ground some time to flee.  

    Le Chat was amazed at the courage of those on the ground, taking injury and attacking, but the Dwarf, Tagernoab, was like something out of legend.  He charged the Ahnis and cut off it's feet.  

    "No small feat that." Le Chat thought.  He was also proud of his Sam, who charged an Ahnis, something that Le Chat wasn't sure he could have done.   His use of the ancient Morning Star, which was so magic that Le Chat could actually feel the aura, was the last stone in building Le Chat a secure desire to call the young man 'friend'.  He'd never actually had a friend, but he was sure he'd found one now.

    When the Caravan finally reached the ambush, and Sam spotted it.  Le Chat, or Black Cat, as he was now being called, just stayed behind the young man and kept him from being surrounded. Between them, they gave good account, since Black Cat was skilled at close combat.  During this fight, Sam was every inch the Knight he aspired to be, and the foe fell before him like leaves from an autumn tree. When the Knights from Chevalier arrived, it was suddenly the raiders who felt ambushed, and Black Cat took great pains to see that they continued to have that opinion.  He couldn't remember having killed so much, so quickly.  It was almost as if Sam inspired him to greater skill and effort.

    He spent a good three hours patching himself up, after the fight.  Sam was in the care of that Druid woman, who was a marvel at healing and seemed to seriously enjoy Sam's company.  Black Cat was able to get a bit of healing, from one of the young healers who had been inside the ring of wagons, and so was better by evening.  He wondered if the rest of this trip would be so 'eventful'.

[For the remainder of the journey, and more about Sam and Black Cat, please read, " A Knight's Journey "  an 'excerpt' follows]

The night came and went, as night does, and sleep was not broken by any violent moments.  It appeared to the Knights that all of the attackers had perished at the ambush, and the trip to Chavalier would be without incident.    Hoden, Tag and Sam were not so sure.  After that much expenditure, it seemed an overconfident attitude to assume another try would not be made. 

    "They would need a company of attackers, and I doubt they have that nearby," was all that Sir Albren would say. 

Sam and Tag discussed it, and had to agree that Sir Albren was probably correct.  This close to Lackland itself, a large group of lawless bandits, of the skill needed to mount an effective offense against this Caravan, might be hard to find. It would, surely, take more time than was left.  Only if the force was being assembled for some other purpose would they be able to attack.  Then the Caravan reached the Guards sent by Saul Baric.  Those valiant fighters were bandaged, limping and leading injured horses.  They looked as if they had encountered a squad of Hel's legions. 

"Amicus?" Sir Albren rode up to the leader of the injured band, " What in Erblood's name did you encounter? A dragon?" 

"Worse", came the answer, " There were at least half a dozen Green Trolls, no less than four Ogres, a pack of hags, complete with Magic, and an, honest to Ar, Umf, so awful that you had to fight it without looking at it."  

    "Oh is that all?" Sir Albren returned, "I was afraid that it was something dangerous." 

" They left when we put up the wards and lightening,"   Amicus went on, " and took the platoon of goons with them." 

    "Left to where?" Sir Albren was suddenly in earnest. 

    " Down the road toward Chevalier," Amicus answered, " They seemed to be looking for someone else, probably you lot."   

Addendum: - What happened after the war.

    “Just who is she, and why does she haunt the Castle?” Strider asked Mouse.

    “She's nobility from among the dark elves,” Mouse replied, “ Officially, she's a guest, but for all practical purposes, she's Black Cat's girlfriend.”

    “You wouldn't know it,” Maude interjected, “ From their behavior. They almost seem like strangers.”

    “ All I know,” Mouse continued, “Is that somehow she followed Black Cat from the underdark, into Port Narl and eventually all the way here. It's a testament to how badly she wanted to find him.”

     No one at Castle Samovar, or indeed in Newhome as a whole, knew the entire story.   Ysabeau, of house Fantome was  next in line for secession to rule.  Black Cat or   Henri, le Chat Noir,  Fils de Leutain was the senior surviving male heir in house Leutain, because of an incident that occurred after he departed.  There were women to spare, but only he could marry and carry the line as a male.  Ysabeau was well aware that she needed, very badly, to secure Black Cat as a husband, because he had lands and followers on the surface, and the union of the two houses would make the dark elves of the surface into a major political power, not to mention stave off what might otherwise become a war, down below.   Black Cat, for his part, was happy on the surface, had friends and what passed for a family in the children, and was not at all interested in reentering the vicious world of Dark Elf politics.  He was torn between duty and the life he had made, but did not consider the Prince he served.  Mouse would prove wiser than anyone expected, in this case.

    “I just want to know,” Mouse finally told Black Cat, “ I see that something is not right, and you're like family to me, I have to at least try to help.”

     So Black Cat told Mouse his life story.  He could have told it to no other person, but Mouse was his only friend, and as the Bard said, like family.  He began with the underdark, and continued through Port Narl, finishing with the news of just who Ysabeau actually was,  and that she wanted him to assume the role of Prince among the Dark Elves.  He awaited Mouse's reaction with more than a little trepidation.

    “ I'm still not sure what the problem is,” Mouse said, after a moment, “ You're already Lord High Executioner, and you have what amounts to an Earldom on the southern shore of Samovar.  I can't see a problem with you being a Prince and incorporating these lands into your kingdom.”

    “It's that Females rule in the realm of the Dark Elves,” Black cat returned, “ And so Ysabeau would be the actual reigning monarch in the lands.  I don't know if she could be subservient to a male.”

    “Her majesty Maude is Princess, and ruler, as much as I am,” Mouse rejoined, “ And as such, could be the Ruler to which Ysabeau answers.  If she found that acceptable, then She could be Queen under the High King, but vassal only to Maude.”

    “Would the Nobles in Lackland stand for something like that?” Black Cat asked.

    “ We've got the strength of public opinion, and the success of the war to use as leverage.  Not to mention the Nobles want some sort of alliance so that they won't have to deal with the Dark Elves any more than absolutely necessary.” Mouse answered, “ Also we have the elves, who want to begin to heal the breach between dark and light elves, and we have the merchants, who are almost rabid with a desire to begin trade in a new market.”

    “ What would I be, exactly?” Black Cat queried, anxiously.

    “ The only change in your life would be that of becoming a husband,” Mouse said, “And that's something the wives have wanted for years.  You'll still be a member of the court, and hold office here, but you'll be able to build a Castle on the shore, where your new subjects live.”

    “ Ysabeau and I will have to figure out how this marriage will work,” Black Cat said, “ Because she's unfamiliar with Humans and Mankind in general.  But her house has alliances with both the Gray Dwarves and the Deep Gnomes, which should help.”

    “ Gnadine might be a useful ally in that area, as well as Tagernoab.” Mouse mused, “ They're friends and comrades in arms as well, and Gnadine really likes you.   She can use her position on the Gnomish Council to make your royal wedding into something seen as beneficial to all Gnomes.  That will go a long way in Lackland, because Gnomes are so much a valued part of society there.”

    “This is going to be a nightmare,” Black Cat came back, “ I can see problems from the outset.  The issues of control, and who is responsible for what, not to mention how to integrate all the dark elves into the society of Humankind.”

    “Let Maude and Seana handle that part,” Mouse suggested, “ They both enjoy ordering other people's lives, and with the new arrangement of power, they will both be in charge of much of the actual interaction.” 

    “That works for me,” Black Cat decided, “ Having a wife, in this case, means she can worry about it.”

    “ That's pretty much what it means for me, as well,” Mouse finished, “ And it will give Maude an excuse to work with all the new arrivals in Samovar, as their ruler.  She'll like that, and probably never notice that she got tricked into being Lady of the Dark Elves and ruler of the southern shore.  Lorelei will be thrilled as well, because that will mean she can take more control in the Healers and Church people.  Even Strider will be happy, since she can make Dark Elf Rangers until she goes blind and deaf from the applause.”

   So it all worked out, without Mouse having to be anything more than Prince of the South and King beyond the mountains, under the High King Egbert.    Gideon, as Prince beyond the Mountains, could handle the lower court there, and Summer would Assist Spring in making certain of defense.  Autumn could continue the exploration of the Arcane Machinery in Char, while Maude, Lorelei, and Strider, would be handling the arrival and integration of the Dark Elves.

Plans are always so much fun to make, and the current version of Pan enjoys wrecking them.  It took only a short while to see that Pan had been amongst them--not the great God Pan, who has been buried these four thousand years, but the minor god Pan, who presides over social contretemps and unsuccessful picnics.  He was having fun.

Come the Monsters

    When Autumn Samovar went to Duke Kur Lee, and petitioned for him to create a vessel that could travel beyond the atmosphere, he just laughed.  When she went to Lord Eglion, and told him Kur Lee couldn’t do it, then it was on.  Kur Lee began to build flying apparatuses that were able to contain their own atmosphere, and renew it as well.  Then Eglion created a vessel capable of unlimited altitude, by means of the ‘old magics’, some druidic assistance, and use of a few artifacts from before the coming of man to Thoss.  Kur Lee, not to be outdone, began working with Daolgi Aarron in the creation of a ‘shuttle’ to get him back to his main ship.  It took two years for the mages to begin to cooperate, and another three before they had something that worked, more or less.  It got Daolgi back to his vessel, and he was able to use his, not inconsiderable, powers and equipment to upgrade the thing to the point that it would be able to serve as a ‘runabout’ for the mages of Thoss.  How Autumn managed to convince him to make one for her, nobody really knows.

   Kur Lee made Autumn’s small yacht into something that could cruise around the skies of Thoss, and take her all the way to the moons, both of them.  In that mode, it ran on magic and was very dependable.  When in space proper, beyond the orbit of Thoss and in the ‘thinner’ region of magic, it ran on both Magic and Technology, by means of a unified device that both Kur Lee and Daolgi had worked on.  It worked, or at least it didn't suffer any catastrophic failures, but it was better when it was either well away from the system and running on technology, or within the planetary domain, and running on magic.  Even with all the experience and learning developed over thousands of years, technology and magic still did not play well together.   A new technology was needed.

***

And her only name was Maude

    

    There was once a sort of Monastery, in the Northern Lands below the Great Plateau, where particular types of Healers learned their craft.  These healers were not the retiring type, those who followed peaceful paths, striving for goodness and love above all things.  These were the ones who healed warriors, in battle, and strove to conquer evil by whatever means they might.  Some called them "Warrior Priests" or "Battle Healers".  There were those who simply referred to them as "Corpsmen" whatever their sex.  The regimen that was practiced there was as demanding as any training place for warriors, and the teaching was in greater depth than most healers would ever learn.  From swordplay to restoring life, the Sword healers practiced what they believed, healing the injured, and fighting evil.  Children either chose to come, or were rescued from battle and taken to the compound, where they might, or might not, grow up to be warriors and healers.  Those who excelled at one, but not the other, moved on to become Knights, or Healers of the passive type.  Those who excelled at both became the corps of the place, and were known far and wide in the land of Newhome.  They were especially vigilant in the pursuit of the creatures that people called 'monsters'.

    When such monsters, from beyond the Backbone mountains, came to the villages below the Great Plateau, and this was rare, the Sword Healers would answer them with destruction.  After one such battle, when some families and villages had been decimated, a small girl child was brought back, because her family was no more.  With only the name Maude, she was taken in and began to live, and grow, there.

    Maude was a quiet girl, at first, withdrawn and full of memory of the raid which had destroyed her home.  She spoke little, not given to conflict, even when others would take advantage of her.  She would probably have remained this way, but she had the misfortune of being present when one of the more aggressive children was taking a treat from a smaller one.  After the fight, not only was the thief prone, but all of his cronies as well.  It seemed that Maude had a 'talent'.

    From then on she was a trainee among the warriors, albeit as a young candidate.  She learned to heal her bruises and contusions, so that she could continue training for longer periods.  She found that there were herbs that she could gather to assist in this.  Maude spent her time, from then on, learning either herbs, healing, or the art of war. She also learned to hunt, as an aside, because she was never full on the ration provided to an orphan.  Her appetite was almost as well known as her sense of justice, and her tendency to protect the smaller and less physical of her fellows.  The leaders of the Corps found her enchanting, and often spent more time with her than, perhaps, they should have.  This gave her an advantage she did not need, since she was already a quick study, and mentally quite sharp.

    She grew to be a young girl, as big as some grown men, known for her skill with weapons.  Less known was the skill with which she healed, and her exhaustive knowledge of herbs and potions.  She would occasionally travel, as the young adults of the monastery were wont to do.  This gained her a reputation as an adventurer and guard.  She was able to make a decent living in either role, and began adventuring when she was only just an adult.  

    The others at the monastery would have dissuaded her, but she had already achieved the highest ranking she could, without joining the order.  She would not join, because she felt that her destiny lay in other directions.  No one knew that she wanted to visit vengeance on Fifnir, with her own skill.  This goal in mind, she traveled the great plateau.  Monsters would come through the edge of Char, the vast desert, entering Newhome there.  She became a bane to them, but a boon to travelers, who often found her healing to be the difference between life and death.   She acquired some small amount of treasure. Those monsters who roamed the wilderness of the Great Plateau were not likely to have much.  A desire for better equipment and more to spend gradually led Maude southward, toward warmer climes.  She found the 'wayfarer huts' to be a good place to rest, and since they were alongside of the ancient roads, Maude began to travel those routes.  She had, once, thought about romance. The adventurer, whom she found attractive, passed away as a result of poor planning, and not having anyone who could resuscitate him.  Maude went back to solitary adventuring, waiting for a better partner, or partners.

    After a couple of years adventuring, she learned of the House Samovar, and the young Baron who was it's sole survivor.  A half-elf noble, she thought, someone who lives on the outside and has no reason to love Fifnir.  He was half-elf, and as such, would probably take any friend he could get.  With his title mostly empty, the young man was probably not accepted into society, and would need to restore his lands.  That meant getting close to her real objective, Fifnir and his legions.   Those who said Fifnir was a myth, had not seen his creations in action.   Something made those horrors, and she was bent on killing whatever it was.  She decided to seek out this 'Baron', to learn of him and perhaps take his cause as her own, if he prove worthy of her time.

    She began adventuring specifically near the ancient roads that led from the area of Lackland to that of Targun, which had been the main town of Barony Samovar.  During this time, she encountered a Healer named Lorelei, and a Ranger named Strider.  She found them to be excellent companions, and enjoyed protecting them.  She quickly learned that the two of them could protect her as well.  She particularly liked that the three of them were equal companions, without any hint of romance.  Feelings could get you killed, she well knew.   Maude had expected to encounter the Baron, Gladriel von Samovar, adventuring on his own, since he would need funds to reestablish his home.  She didn't expect to run into the Bard, Mouse, because he was famous, both as a bard and as an adventurer.  When the chance came to join one of his 'exploits', she did not hesitate.  

The young would-be Baron could wait.  Those who accompanied Mouse got rich.   Strider and the healer Lorelei, who were, themselves, trying to acquire some 'adventuring treasure', found this appealing.  Lorelei was intrigued at the prospect of joining an 'adventure' with a famous Bard, even though it would be dangerous, but Strider not so much so.

    "The man's a menace," Strider said, "He goes after Monsters like he had a personal grudge with each and every one of them. He takes risks."

    "Risks are the name of the game," Lorelei answered, " And he'll need two healers and warriors, so we'll be valuable to him."

    " I'm not worried about the risks," Maude agreed, " But you may be right about him being a menace.  We'll need to check out his motives and reputation, before we commit."  

    " I'll ask around," Strider acquiesced, " If I can't find anything wrong with his history, and if the two of you check out the rumor mill, we shall see about joining this 'Bard', and if it be worth doing."

    "Don't be too slow," Maude responded, "His parties fill up quickly and he doesn't adventure every day."

    Strider wasted no time in his investigation, going to all the places he knew where tales were told, and looking deliberately for those who had no use for the upstart, half-elf, Bard.  In spite of his bias, Strider could find no indication that the man was untrustworthy, and in fact learned the opposite.  It seemed this Bard was generous to a fault and avoided the usual carousing that marked most adventurers.  He wasn't even known to have a girlfriend, let alone a wife or mistress.  This was almost astonishing to Strider, and he found it a mark in the man's favor.  Even those who disliked him, simply because he was a 'pointy ears', could not fault his honesty and loyalty.  Begrudgingly, they had to admit that the Bard was careful in his drinking, loyal to his companions and could be trusted to share honestly.  

    Finally he went to the South, to the area below Goldenwood, to ask of those he trusted.  The cadre of adventurers who call that coastal area below Goldenwood their home, are united under the name 'Landlopers', and are known for honor, duty, responsibility and a higher threshold of legality than is common among adventurers as a whole.  Strider had spent some time with them, in the past, and knew that if this 'Mouse' had any skeletons in his closet, here was his best chance to learn of them.  The adventurers in that region had nothing but good words for Mouse, because he was even honest in his use of his Bardic skill.  So many Bards would use their musical magic to increase the income of a performance, but not Mouse.  While he might use his music to make a better than average impression on a crowd, he never let it affect the amount of his 'tips'.  Again, it was a pleasant surprise. Strider went back to tell the women he worked with, what he had learned.

    Lorelei chose the 'gossip mills' that were so easy for her to access. Since she was a remarkably beautiful woman, and a healer of note, she could always find those who wanted her company, even if it was just to impress others.  She quickly learned that no one had been able to become the 'paramour' of the young Bard, and few had even managed to keep company with him.  She also learned that he was often simply ' not seen' and no one knew why.  He would adventure and perform for awhile, and then just be 'gone' for awhile, and no one could say where he went or what he did.  From those who admired him, and they were many, she learned that it was supposed he was engaging in charitable work, and wanted to remain anonymous.  It seemed likely, because, unlike most talented Bards, he was only very slightly rich, and not at all greedy.  The money had to be going somewhere.  When she had learned as much as she could, Lorelei went looking for Strider and Maude, to see what they had found out, and share what she now knew.

    Maude took a different path, since she was skilled in magics not widely known. Beginning with a detection of his morals and ethics, Maude attuned herself to this 'Mouse the Bard' so that she could view his more probable future. Once attuned, she set up an augury, using her own hair, blood, and saliva, to learn what would, or might, come to pass if she took up with the Bard.  Her vision was clear and very strong.  She saw that she would become the mother of his son, and his wife, even though there was a real chance that he might not survive the experience.   Lorelei was present in the vision as well, and another woman, albeit one she did not know.  The clincher, for her, was that the Bard was devoting his life to the destruction of Fifnir, and that was something she wanted in on.  She promised herself that she would convince her cohorts to join this 'little adventure' that Mouse was planning.

    "Well," Strider spoke first, "He tests out honest and forthright. Even the Landlopers Guild can find no fault with him, although he seems to be on again, off again, in his history."

    "I've learned as much," Lorelei agreed, " He disappears, from time to time, and spends money in ways that are not open to public knowledge."

    " I've cast the auguries," Maude said, " He's building a war chest to fight Fifnir, and I would very much like to be a part of that enterprise."

She decided the marriage and children part could be 'left out' without harm.  

    "That sounds right," Strider agreed, " He's been seen with Dwarves and Elves who are known warriors, and even Seana, the Battle Mage and Forest Lady of the Elves has been seen in his company."

    " He keeps company with Knights, as well," Lorelei added, " That would fit in with a war chest and preparing to make war on Fifnir."

    "Seems to me that he's everything we want, in an adventure leader," Maude said, "We can always leave afterward, if it looks like he's too focused on this "Fifnir thing"."

    Maude did not know how deeply her friends hated Fifnir, and how strongly they wanted to be involved in his death, but she quickly realized that the three of them had made a decision.  It was now time to join the 'group' that the Bard 'Mouse' was building.  The trio went back to the Inn where they knew Mouse would be.  He seemed glad to see them, and already knew their names and stories.  This was encouraging, as it meant they had made a positive impression, when first they met   After some discussion, and it was more than casual, Mouse decided that these 'adventurers' would be welcome additions to his 'party'.  He was going to investigate the disappearance of some travelers, and a possible link to ruins that existed, to the west of the Ancient Way.  His acceptance of Maude and her friends gave her an inexplicable sense of belonging.  She only hoped that her decision would prove to be the right one, over time.  In the meantime, she would be content to have friends who were fellow adventurers, and to travel with a famous Bard.  Things could be worse, and still be good.

    Everyone welcomed the new members to the party.   Father Michael may have used his paladin magic to make sure they were 'all right', but aside from that, they were welcomed heartily.  Strider informed the group that there was a trail or two leading toward some ruins that bore promise of the monsters they sought.  She had searched these trails out, finding one that monsters weren't using.  Mouse decided that his group would make use of this trail, even if it might be dangerous.   Monsters don't usually avoid a trail unless it isn't safe to use.  In short order, the party had ordered themselves, with perhaps a few too many supplies, and made for the  "Ancient Way".  The pathway never changed. It was the same today as it had been when first discovered, thousands of years ago.  The magic which maintained both it, and the way stations along it, seemed a part of Thoss itself. The trip to the Ancient Way was uneventful, except that, from somewhere, Seana and a few Elvin Archers had arrived, so that the party was enlarged.  Mouse went to his 'scrolls' for a tune that his teacher, Galanfie, had mentioned to him.  He found it easily, as Strider brought the group to the unused trail.  Maude was impressed with the concealing magic that resulted.  She felt that it bode well for the future.  As she followed the Bard into the forest, Maude was satisfied with her choices, so far.  Besides, she was almost certain that she was falling in love.  

Lorelei  of Ryedell

    When their daughter was born, Samuel and Margaret Dulac had no idea that she was, in any way, special.  She was simply a lovely child, sweet and so beautiful that it took ones breath away.  When they went on Holiday, she was part of the family troupe.  But she was only five, and so when the raiders came to the caravan, she could only remember to hide and be very quiet.  When the raiders had gone, she crawled out of her hiding space, alone among the dead.  When the guard came, too late to save the caravan, they took her, together with the possessions she had, to an orphanage where she would be safe.  Since she knew her name, and where she was born, relatives soon came to take her to a place she could call home.  During all this time, she only wished she had been able to heal her parents, or at least some of her brothers and sisters, but she couldn't.  She vowed, in her childlike heart, to change that fact.  

    From that day on, Lorelei was a student of healing.  By her tenth birthday, when she should have been just entering study, she could already perform almost as many of the basic healing skills that were taught in the school.  When she was twelve, she went on to Academy, years too young, but already a mistress of healing.  In the six years she spent at academy, she learned all that they could teach and more.  The library gave up its secrets to her, and she learned the spells of battle and succor, so that she could heal and fight at the same time. She also learned spells that were unique, and unknown to any but the most esoteric of scholars.  Transfiguration, the ability to become something you are not, was one of these. The existence of an underwater human civilization was another.   Actually, the denizens of the world beneath the waves were Humankind, not human, but they had not been seen in historical times.  Lorelei put finding them on her list, after the death of Fifnir.  

One day, while hard at work studying, Lorelei heard a noise that had no place in her safe world.  Rising, she went to the window and saw monsters.  As an adult, she had never seen monsters, and fear overcame her.  She panicked, becoming a bird and flying above the village.  Watching, she saw monsters lay waste to the entire town and kill everyone.  She remembered her family's death and, paralyzed by her terror, was helpless to interfere.  Then she watched the fires consume everything, even the temple at which she had been studying.  She finally reached the point where she could alight, but there was no safe place.  She rode the rising air, as it rushed up from the flames.  When it is over she flew away, seeking a place where she could live.  

    Here is where her story truly begins, because here is where she begins to become Lorelei, the adventurer.  She began with a trip to another temple, this one much larger and closer to the mainstream of civilization. It had room for another student,  but the man in charge had ‘problems’.  He found his newest student to be beautiful and desirable, but she found him to be ‘creepy’.  His attentions were well beyond what was proper, and Lorelei was obliged to cast a spell which kept him from being able to touch her.  She only studied for a short while, until he began to try to penetrate the spell.  Then it was onward to another temple.  She quickly learned that her beauty would be an obstacle to her studies, because there was always someone who wanted to have her as a conquest, or worse, as a wife.   She changed Temples on a regular basis, which led to her being known by many of the older healers, and even respected, for her strong will.  She was soon welcome, wherever she went to study.  In this way, she completed a very thorough education.  Forced to repeat much of what she learned with each change, she became expert in healing beyond the normal.  A strong affinity with water made her able to enchant in that element at a level beyond that of most of the priests, or priestesses.  She acquired a reputation for being an asset for any adventurer to know.  About this time, she began to realistically consider her revenge plans.  She had been able to work through her grief and had become convinced that monsters needed to be eliminated.  She went to the ‘Adventurers League” and studied there, with Paladins and Warrior Priests, learning to wield a weapon with more than a little skill, and learning how water and fire could be used to vanquish enemies, in times of need.  She learned the skill of healing in battle, and how to create a ‘circle of protection’,  an advanced form of the spell she had used to keep her creepy instructor at bay.  One day, at the League, she met a man named ‘Strider’.  Strider was going to a ruin, to seek out the treasure there, and kill any monsters he met.  At first, no one would join such an endeavor, because those ruins were known to be deadly and no one had ever succeeded in raiding them.  When Lorelei decided to join, some of the Paladins fell in, so as not to seem cowardly in front of her.  Once the party had a few Paladins, a Ranger of some note, and a warrior healer, a couple of mages decided to join.  With such a group, there were soon plenty of volunteers and a party set out in a few days that was almost a company of souls.  The monsters at the ruin were green trolls, but Lorelei had enough fire magic to make what the Mages did a true conflagration, With the Paladins to wound and the various others to drive the Trolls into the fire, the battle was won.  Strider had used ‘flaming arrows’ which he made using a magic he knew, and afterward, when there were more than a few to be healed, he showed some knowledge of the healing arts as well.  Lorelei decided to travel with this young man, for better or worse, because of his courage and skill,  She also wanted to learn some of the uses of magic that he had mastered, so as to augment her own skills.

    Strider was delighted to have Lorelei as a traveling companion, and some of the others stayed with the pair. They were especially delighted when the warrior healer Maude joined them.  She became Lorelei's best friend, and was more than an asset when adventuring.  The three of them made a living along the ancient way, between Targun and Chevalier, until one day when Mouse the Bard made an appearance.

    He was accumulating a force to attack some monsters, who had banded together on the western side of the Ancient Way, attacking small groups and even small caravans.  This behavior was hurting trade and causing Mouse not to be able to perform to full houses, so he decided to do something about the monsters.   He was famous, and known to be an almost legendary figure in battle, so everyone wanted to go along.  Lorelei, Strider, and Maude were included, but they made certain that Mouse personally invited them and that their acceptance was not taken for granted.  They also spent some time making sure that this 'Bard' was trustworthy.  Upon learning that Mouse was devoted to vanquishing the western monsters, reclaiming the Barony of Samovar, and eventually defeating Fifnir, Lorelei decided she had found a long-term relationship.  

How Strider found a place to call her own

    When the valley elves came to Willowind, it was a valley filled with trees and wonderful to behold.  Many of the trees had blight, but were either cured or replaced.  Down the valley there was a meadow, but it was the scar of a fire which had destroyed the forest.  A first planting was made, and the valley elves had a home.  Bounded by rivers and the great plateau, the land was fertile and had everything they needed.  They built the style of homes that best suited them, Sculpting them from living trees, and had a large population when the monsters came.  The forest were so much kindling, to the monsters.

    What trees they could not uproot, they burned, and the forest was alight for days.  The survivors fled, and among them was a young girl named, Sevi Lowenek.  An unremarkable child, she was reared in the forest, from camp to camp.  The valley elves wandered for half a century before settling north of Wayne Duchy, in a valley they named Willowind, after the home they had lost. They were still few in number, because valley elves are not prolific.   They grow slowly and produce few offspring, for all that they are long-lived.  

    There were raiders from the East, toward Torvaald, who made a habit of pillaging the valley elf settlements, taking the girls to be either slaves, wives, or for sale in the illegal slave markets.  Sevi learned to be a boy, very quickly.  It was an early age, for a valley elf, but she learned how to leave an arrow in the throat of as many of the raiders as she could target from the trees.  She learned to throw axes and knives, and how to work with the forest animals, to know when and where the raiders would arrive.  She also learned how to be a man, both in appearance and action.  Fortunately Valley Elves are tall and look much like humans.  

    In a few decades, the mysterious ranger “Strider” was being talked about and feared among the Raiders.  They banded together to track and kill the young ranger, but did not count on her wisdom and intelligence.  She led them a merry chase, down to and across the river into the Duchy of Wayne.  Once in the Duchy, Strider vanished, and the Raiders found themselves facing Duke John’s knights, who had wanted this encounter for a long time.  Once the Raiders had been defeated, Strider tracked the few who escaped back toward their homeland.  None made the journey, as Strider counted coup on them.  She then visited their home and made certain that the women there knew that the men would not be returning,  She cut the locks and opened the towers where women had been prisoners.  Those women who had suffered, set about to prepare themselves against any attempt of men to again dominate them.  They took the ancient Amazons as their model, and began serious training to become the deadliest force in the Northeast of Newhome.  From Torvaald to Seacliff, they established a kingdom that was ruled by women.  Strider stayed, long enough to teach those who would be instructors, and then left. He was comfortable as a young man, and chose not to reveal his true nature.

    Strider worked the North of Lackland and downward to Goldenwood, as a ranger, guard, adventurer and even made a foray into the sewers of Chevalier once.  One day she met up with Lorelei, deciding that her life would be easier with  company.  Almost everyone looked like a boy next to the impossibly beautiful  Lorelei.  When she met Maude, she decided that everything was going splendidly, as a warrior healer of Maude's ability made adventuring trips much more profitable, and safer, for that matter.  

    Her meeting with Mouse, and subsequent addition to his family, was almost as much as she could absorb, and would never have occurred, had it not been for the curse.  It was a major change in her life, to accept being a woman, and become a wife.  Strider eventually came to love her role as the Forest Lady of Samovar, especially when the Forest came to stretch from Whitsno to Bobuktu.  Then she became princess of the Elves in Khan, and adopted niece of the King of the Elves in Newhome.  She was, for a time, unable to take it all in.  Thankfully, and lucky for her, she had Maude and Lorelei as sister-wives.   Then there was her cousin by marriage, Seana, to assure her that she was more than adequate for the role.  

Watch my Smoke, It's maaaagic...

    In the Land of The Khan, where honor is life, not everyone 'fits in'.  Some become fishermen, some become hermits, and some become monks.  Almost none of the 'misfits' learn magic.  Kur Lee was one of the almost none.  Born to the Kur family, and fated to be a farmer, the little boy named Lee learned very quickly how to make the work easier.  When his parents noticed that he was using magic, they followed procedure and sent him to school for it.  He was almost as good a fit at the regular school as he had been at the Farm.  He enjoyed doing things 'almost right' and would go out of his way for a joke.  The teachers were 'not amused'.  It was decided that he needed 'special' instruction.

  The School for 'special' students was designed for those who were either highly talented, or exceptionally intelligent.  No one had expected a child that was both.   Kur Lee was gifted with not only an exceptional talent and high intelligence, he also had a formidable sense of humor.  He loved to do the unexpected, especially if it caused laughter.  Slippery mud spells, fog of almost every sort, and various spells designed to make tiny gaps for covert surveillance were often his choice.   He finally learned that the girls and women did not appreciate being 'spied on' by a curious twelve-year-old.  He never did learn to be 'serious' though.  When the instructors wanted him to open a path, using 'earth magic', he might well opt for creating an earth golem to smash a path.  He might also turn the stones to marshmallow, and let the younger students eat their way through.  Those antics did not usually bring him to grief, but when he devised a spell that copied answers from the master list by stealth, it was different.  Since he could hold his brush while the spell wrote the answers, it was especially hard to catch him.  Once the teachers realized that he was out-thinking them, they found somewhere else for him to study.

    The Monks in the High Mountains, near the Great Wall, were more than willing to have the young Kur Lee in their care.  They had an extensive library, and he actually enjoyed studying the arts of unarmed martial engagement.  It was while he was there that he learned the legends of the 'Great Migration', when almost everyone ran beyond the Backbone Mountains, to escape Fifnir and his 'monsters'.  Eventually he found a 'prophecy' that told of Fifnir going beyond the mountains, to destroy mankind there.  He decided it would be fun to mess up Fifnir's plans.  He listened, and made 'hypothetical' questions, so that he could 'test the waters'.  The water was not only freezing cold, it was on fire at the same time.  Kur Lee made the decision to keep his goal a closely guarded secret.

    One day an unknown master arrived at the Monastery.   Calling himself "Chuck Norris", he claimed to have come from 'beyond the Backbone Mountains'.  Kur Lee wasted no time in becoming a student of the man, and learned as much as he could finagle, without revealing his plan.  The master was not shy about his journey, and took extra time teaching the young mage everything he could learn.   Kur Lee spent the years necessary to learn as much as he might, and did not even consider departing until his "Master" moved on.  Eventually that happened.  One day Norris was simply not there, and it was soon after the the Monks began to pressure Kur Lee to 'join the monastery' and become a master.  Kur Lee didn't particularly like taking orders, but he hated giving them.  Therefore he packed a magical bag and went for the Mountains.  

    He had a spell, which worked just as he intended, it made a path out of wet sand.  He was able to travel as though on a dry, solid, surface.  The encroaching surf and dry sand above were no obstacle, he traveled smoothly and silently for days.  Unfortunately, there came a point where he must leave the beach, cross the foothills and go over the mountains.  He spent much of his next few months invisible.  He became fairly expert at following monsters into the mountains, but he had traveled well to the North before he came upon a narrow pass, used by a hardy band of monsters.  After they passed through it, they put a large boulder in the gap, so that Kur Lee, or anyone else following, would have to find a way to move it. 

    Kur Lee was something of an expert at animating rocks.  He just hadn't tried one this large before.  It took him the better part of an hour, but he got it moving and bouncing down the trail, getting faster as it moved.  The monsters hadn't expected the boulder to follow and attack them, but it did.  It weighed several tons, and seemed anxious to pounce on each and every one of them.  Some ran fast enough to escape, sort of.  When the trail veered sharply to the side, they couldn't turn and all went over the edge, followed by the boulder.  Down the mountains and through the foothills was not so hard a journey, but Kur Lee was growing short on supplies.  When he found a camp that the monsters used, and it had a small contingent of occupants, Kur Lee decided he might need some of the 'local currency' to replenish his stores, and buy 'necessities'.  I suppose he thought he might need a small farm and animals, because he took enough treasure to buy one.  He left the largest items from among the least valuable, but took all he could conveniently carry.  Using both of the pack animals that he found near the camp was convenient, as well as the pack saddles and bags.  He was fortunate that one of the 'bags' was magical and held a roomful of 'stuff'.

    When he reached Targun, Kur Lee was delighted.  Then he learned of the fall of Castle Samovar.  He stayed a few months, killing the monsters who seemed determined to crush Targun into the dust.  Kur Lee was a man who cherished his cleanliness.  The very thought of being crushed into the dust was abhorrent to him.  He spent many a night devising yet another strange and lethal trap for those who got too close.  Then he heard that there was, possibly, a Baron of Samovar in Lackland.  He realized that this potential Baron could be his ticket to having a place of his own in this new land.  That was what started Kur Lee on his way to Chevalier, and caused him to run into Mouse.  Alone, of almost everyone who encountered the Bard, Kur Lee knew him for the Baron Samovar almost instantly.  Then again, how many of the people Mouse met were mages from the far west land of The Khan?  Disguise penetration was a skill that, often, would save one's life in that far-away land.  Kur Lee's decision to join the adventuring party of Mouse, the Bard, was simply his way of insuring that he would eventually be a retainer of House Samovar.  He never had a doubt.

    Kur Lee never got used to the cuisine of New Home.  It was just too bland, except for Port Narl, and its environs. The food from Port Narl was spicy. That's a kind way of saying that some dishes almost cooked themselves.  Kur lee never ceased his research into the food and plants of New Home, from those who could inform him, like Maude, Lorelei and Strider, to the books which he ceaselessly perused.  Some quotations left him scratching his head, and almost no more informed than before he read them.  For example, 

"Amaranth flour and oil:  High energy and low cholesterol, this combination is ideal for Jungle Travel, because they do not contain the quantity of saturated fats that some oils and flours are prone to have.  Also there is no gluten in Amaranth flour.  Amaranth seeds are poisonous, but when prepared are very useful in cooking.  Carrying the raw seed is also beneficial in that it spoils more slowly, due to being poisonous".

Kur Lee learned, from this, to explore the Amaranth Plant for its uses, toxicity, and potentially its flavor and oil.  He went to Maude to find out how to use it without killing his company.

A Gnome gnamed Gnadine

Along the Great Plateau it is said that numerous enclaves of Gnomes make their homes.  The Gnomes would probably say gnumerous gnests of Gnomes.  Because they tend to add that almost undetectable g to every word that begins with an n.   Still, there are some things that people actually know about Gnomes, but think of as fables.  

    First of all, Gnomes live in gardens, although they usually live in Gnomish Gnardens, which are designed and maintained by Gnomes in order to create a magic generation area.  A gnomish garden can provide as much magical energy as a good sized magic crystal.  The difference is, a gnomish garden will recharge in hours, unless completely depleted.  A few days and some care by one or more gnomes can restore any garden that has been used at any time in the past year.   When one encounters a garden that has been made by a gnome, it is said, there can be danger.  This is because the thieves would use the gardens to locate and rob gnomes, if they were completely benign.  One can tell the level of danger in the nearby environment by the safeguards built into a gnomes garden.  

    Some of the other things known about Gnomes concern items, clothing, and skills.  Gnomes, as a race, wear hats, the taller the better.  Gnomes make shoes, all kinds and sizes, and wear the best footwear you'll ever see.  Tinker Gnomes can make pots or anything a kiln produces.  They make a magical ceramic armor that's no joke.  Some Gnomes are also skilled in machinery, and can make devices that function in a magic environment.  Over the centuries, Gnomes have been able to make fairly complex items, but electronics are still beyond their kin.   Simple mechanics is tough enough, when the device must be 'insulated' from accidental interaction with it's user.  

    Gnomes are quite long-lived, but have few children.  A gnomish family, in which the parents are over two centuries old, will probably have less than four children.  Gnomish children are hard to raise, since they're small enough to be vulnerable to rats.  For this reason, Gnomish women are much prized as nannies, by those rich enough to afford them.

    Now we come to the story of Gnadine, a cute little Gnome who was born in the Cleft near the great falls, where the Mother of Rivers begins its flow to the southern sea.  Baby Gnomes are all cute, being so tiny and all, but Gnadine wasn't.  The baby looked as if she were dangerous, from the moment she was born.  Worse than that, she grew into her looks.  She killed a poisonous snake that would have challenged a grown human, and this when she was less than twenty.  Gnomes don't reach their full growth, such as it is, until they've passed fifty or so.  Gnadine was a precocious child, learning reading, writing and magic by age thirty, and she was tinkering along with her father by forty.  When she turned sixty, she was tending her own Gnomish garden, almost a league from her home.  She heard, but never saw, the monsters who took her family.  Her father had designed a gnomish bodyguard, that was all mechanical, but it started slowly. Her parents were already dead before it sprang (literally) into action.  It chased the attackers away, and, so far as anyone knows, is chasing them still.  

    Gnadine moved her primary residence close to the garden she had grown, and transplanted almost everything from her parents home to hers.  She left behind an empty gnome-hole, the remnants of a garden, and a trap that would kill anything smaller than a lion.  Her garden was laced with poisons, dangerous plants and deadfalls that would take out a rogue liftant.  She made two trips to the library at Chevalier, to research the best variety of devices to protect herself.   After a few years, and trips, she became an expert at traps and poisons, which was a necessary thing, with the fall of Castle Samovar and resurgence of monsters.  Gnadine began to work on magic and weapons, not to mention armor, in order to make the lives of monsters, in her region, much less pleasant.  Over time, she became remarkably successful in her endeavor.  

    When Castle Samovar was restored, Gnadine went there to see if they needed the services of a Gnome.  Imagine her delight in learning that there were children in need of guarding.  Having received the normal course of education for a gnome, Gnadine was a certified Nanny, and the Wives Samovar were delighted to have her.   Black Cat did a small amount of research, and had her stipend doubled, providing she would double as a guard.  Gnadine assured him that nothing would harm the children while she lived, and such was her experience and the attitude she bore, that Black Cat honestly believed her.  And that's how Gnadine came to Castle Samovar.

 
Gaelehn, Forgemaster, Archer and Barbarian

 Immune to fire and heat, Gaelehn is the forgemaster of Fire Mountain. Bowman non pariel, Swordsman par excellence, Gaelehn can forge swords that are beyond compare, working in Mithril, adamant, steel, carbon fiber, Boron cermet and other strange substances. He uses the magma as a forge.  He is strong beyond belief, a stranger to fear, and very hard to fool.  

  Rumor has it he was born.   If this prove true, it must have occurred somewhere above the Great Plateau, and to the West of Torvald.  Perhaps among those who make steel implements, since he learned the forge early.  It may, conversely, have been near the mountains of the Dwarves, which would explain his use of the hammer, as a weapon.  He could have also been born just above the plateau where the realm of Samovar ends, because he's legendary for his skill with the bow, as are the elves nearby.  Wherever he was born, it is certain that the water and food were exceptional, because he grew to be almost a giant.   His eyes were unusual, blue on one side and green on the other, but it is not true that they changed, according to his mood.  He was known to wear the fur of a giant lynx as a head dress, but it is not generally known that he was forced to kill it, in single combat, prior to his eighteenth year.  

    He is famous for his forge work, and his archery.  He is also the hero of the pass, where he and others, stopped the encroaching creatures of Fifnir who would have let flights of Dragons in to conquer an destroy.  What is less well known about him is his defense of the weak, and the many gifts he gave those who had little or nothing.  From a suit of armor for a young warrior, to homes for those widows and orphans of the monster raids, Gaelehn was never one to turn a blind eye.  He often got involved in situations that threatened his life, just because someone needed help.

   When a princess was trapped, by forces almost beyond comprehension, Gaelehn decided to rescue her.  In doing this, he became immune to heat, a magical side effect of being exposed to the inner fires of Thoss.  He is unmarried, because he never stays in a place long enough.  He's rumored to be immortal, but this is an exaggeration, he has a life expectancy of less than three thousand years, thanks to falling into a boiling stew of magic called the fountain of life.  It was supposed to be a cruel joke, so hot that it killed before life could be bestowed, but thanks to Gaelehn's immunity to heat, he just became very long-lived.  

   As the forge master of Fire Mountain, Gaelehn has opened an entire new era in the smith's art.  He has learned methods of bonding substances on a level almost beneath the molecular.  Bonds of Graphite and Boron, and the recreation of Graphene, a substance lost long ago, are among his accomplishments.  Work in Mithral, Adamant, and substances made by giant spiders, fairies, wisps, and many other creatures, are often in his smithy.  It has been said that he can forge anything that can be forged.  He has outfitted entire armies, and makes the armor and weapons for all of Samovar.  Mouse, Maude, Strider, Lorelei, Kur Lee, Black Cat and their retainers would be lost without him.  He's been called a hero so many times that it should be a part of his name.

 

End of year in Samovar

    The Planet Earth orbits the sun while tilted at an average of 23.5 degrees, so the Northern and Southern Hemispheres receive unequal amounts of sunlight. This causes both the solstices and the seasons.  Thoss is only tilted about 12 degrees, and that is only since Fifnir crashed into it.  His impact was enough to have destroyed Thoss, but for it's engineering and the existence of Magic.  The tilt of the axis seems to have stabilized, not having changed for the past few thousand years.  Whether it will disappear or remain only time will tell.  The people of Newhome have always had seasons, although not as pronounced as they were on Old Earth.  

  When fall comes to Samovar, all of the leaves change color, all of the berries ripen, much of the harvest matures, and ancient rituals become the norm.  It seems like everyone has a personal favorite, and perhaps a ritual or ceremony that is almost unique to the person.  Herein are descriptions of a few of them.

    First must come the celebration of those who have died.  Names like Halloween, Samhain, and Day of the dead, are common, but they all have  common thread of remembrance.  Sometimes there will be a gathering of 'storytellers', to spin tales of the supernatural.  not always, but often.  Here is one such.   

Horror Story

When I was a child, before I learned that there were no such things as ghosts or spirits, I used to lie awake at night and talk to them.  They would come to my bedroom, which I shared with my brother.  He slept like the grateful dead, and so I could indulge my childish fantasy, holding conversations with the dead.  It was enjoyable and I learned much of the world from them, and more than a little history.  Perhaps, if they had been real, I could have learned more.  I became a fan of Halloween, because the spirits seemed to be stronger then, and easier to talk to.  It came in handy.

   In my family, there was a tradition of telling scary stories, made up for the occasion, at the season of Halloween.  Usually it was on a Friday, near the actual day, but sometimes it was just done on Halloween, if inclement weather prevented the children from Trick-or-Treat.  It was on one such occasion that my ability to talk to ghosts became useful. 

    The 'adults' present on that evening, and by adults I include everyone over the age of Eighteen, had decided that they would tell about the origins of Halloween, and the children were fascinated.  I was listening, along with my cousins and brother and sister, when a ghost arrived at the party.  She was a young girl from a time long ago, and I was a young boy, not even ten, but I found her captivating.  I listened to her story and repeated it, to the terror and disquiet of all present.

    Long ago, when bonfires were set and feasts were made at the end of summer, when the festival was made, there were many groups who followed what were called 'the old ways' and they believed in magic.  The festival lasted all day, and children loved it, because they could get treats and rewards if they were fortunate.  The adults continued the festival, sometimes until morning, because it was so important to them.  It was during one such festival when the soldiers came.

   They said that 'the old ways' were evil and that law now forbade the practice of magic and the beliefs of those who wanted to follow it.  Anyone who refused to stop their worship practices immediately, were killed on the spot.  Many chose death, not wanting to surrender what they had believed all their lives, and so there was blood everywhere.  The children tried to run away, but most of them were taken to the monasteries, where they could be taught the 'proper' beliefs and actions.  Every item related to magic or history was either broken or burned, and even some of the houses were burned, if the owners had been killed.  The house of the wise woman was destroyed, to prevent what the soldiers called "evil potions and herbs'' from being made available.  Many other horrible things occurred that night, and there was much screaming and many died.  Some of the children hid under the porches and floors, where there were crawl spaces, because the possibility of rats was not so frightening as the soldiers.

    In the morning, those of the village who were alive and grown, took the children who had hidden successfully and fled to the forests, there to make a new place to live.  In time they learned to live on what the forest provided, with the help of  the druids.  For the rest of their lives, all of the people who had escaped carried a fear of the soldiers and their harsh religion.  Some of the women and girls had a haunted look from that night which never left them.  The soldiers continued their work, over all the land.  They destroyed all the high and holy places, and killed any holy people they could catch.  The 'wise women' of every village were either killed or had to go into hiding.  All medicine became illegal, and finally the plague came and killed many.  The soldiers went to their priests and were told that it was a punishment because they had not eradicated all the unbelievers in the land.  The plague was kinder to those who followed the 'old ways' because we had herbs and treatments that could ease the suffering and save many.  The soldiers and their people died in huge numbers, but they did not relent.  Even until this day they call the followers of the 'old ways' evil and say that they worship an evil God.  Those they persecute believe that the Evil God is more probably the one they worship.

   That was the tale I told, and it turned the faces of the adults white.  They asked me how I learned the story and I explained that a ghost had told it to me.  That's when I learned that ghosts weren't real and that the story was just my imagination running wild.  Over time, as I grew up, I quit seeing Ghosts and almost forgot about them.  The only strong memory I retained was that of the story, and the young redheaded girl who told it to me.  Her bright green eyes haunted my dreams for some time, and she was hard to forget.   

                                                                                   *   *   *

More of the End of Year festivities.

  Returning to fall celebrations,   'harvest home' is a celebration that cuts across all lines and races.  The Dwarves, Elves, Humans, Gnomes and all of the small folk come together to give thanks and feast on the bounty of nature.  Even the Dark Elves have this time, although the celebration lost much during the time when they had no harvest to celebrate.  With the new area in Samovar, not only for the Dark Elves, but for Druids, Elves, Dwarves and Gnomes, there is now a harvest for all, and Baron Gladriel is much bel0ved for being it's author. (even if it was Maude, Strider and Lorelei who guided him in performing this miracle)

   The idea of Santa Claus may have come from the story of the first shamans who were said to climb high into the upper worlds and return with gifts of wisdom and prophecies, on old Earth.   The name is synonymous with the yule celebration, from ancient Scandinavia,  where village people sat around bonfires of burning yule logs throughout the night, while drinking mead and listening to the stories of minstrel-poets. (Mouse loves this one)

   The solstices were ,during one period, times of danger and opportunity.   They were a time for special alertness and aliveness.  Families often kept fires burning all night, as for yule,  to assist the battle between the light and dark forces.      Where it was called Dies Natalis Invicti Solis, or the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun, masters even celebrated as equals with their slaves. (no royalty in this one, everyone is equal during this celebration)

 Throughout history, celebrating the solstice has been a way to renew our connection with each other and with the numinous through acts of goodwill, special rituals, and heightened awareness. (Lorelei's favorite)

 

    By performing simple rituals with personal meaning to celebrate the solstice, we have touchstones, to help us cultivate an attitude of receptiveness and appreciation that will carry us through the holiday season with more ease.  These rituals often span a period of days, and involve meditation, fasting, feasting, singing, talking, and even bathing. (Kur Lee likes this one.)

    Sharing food, an important part of any celebration, is particularly meaningful during the solstice, as it represents faith in the return of the sun and the harvest. In lieu of a major feast, some  like to prepare a simple meal from organic winter vegetables to share with friends or family, or cook a dinner to enjoy in the welcome solitude.  Most often, it's a feast, where those who have much can share with those who have little, and everyone who has drink, shares it.  (Tagernoab, and most Dwarves, like this one.)

      Solstice comes from two Latin words: sol meaning "sun" and sistere meaning “to stand still” because it appeared as though the sun and moon had stopped moving across the sky. This longest night of the year, followed by a renewal of the sun, demonstrates the cyclical order of the cosmos. In this way, celebrating the solstice can be a beautiful remembrance that our lives are part of a larger order, always changing, always renewing. (Strider loves this one.)  

Silence is another celebration of the shortest day of midwinter. Reflecting on the stillness of Nature you cultivate stillness in yourself. Yalda festival marks the day when Mithra, an angel of light, was thought to have been born. The tradition  is still observed by staying up late and savoring treats like watermelon and pomegranate.  It closes at night's center, when  the ritual honors the threshold of solstice with an hour of intentional silence for the household.  (Maude likes this one)

    In the Land of the Khan, Dōngzhì festival marks the time when winter's darkness begins to give way to light. Families observe this time by enjoying special foods, such as glutinous rice balls known as tang yuan.  When the Khan's warriors came to fight Fifnir, many stayed and brought this festival into Samovar on a permanent basis.

  The Druids celebrate the solstice at their sacred places.  When Fifnir was 'just over the mountains' and things seemed desperate, to one and all, they congregated, and many were uplifted by the gathering, especially by the high Druid.      "What we're here for is to celebrate the fact that the cycle of the world turns,” High Druid Linda was heard to quote, saying that it came from an ancient solstice celebration. "It's a time for change" she remarked, "and hope should be renewed.” 

   There is a most ancient celebration, one of giving thanks for all that you have and especially those things that the previous year has brought or enhanced.  Perhaps the only universal remembrance, it is celebrated with a single feast, that contains meats, dressings, vegetables, and drink.  There is always a display of desserts, from pies, to pudding, to cakes and even frozen confections.  The confectioners always try to make a magical, edible, centerpiece, and competition can be fierce.  Sometimes it will be a cake, of colossal size, or something made of candy, that is an actual sculpture.  On rare occasion, it will be flavored ice, or frozen cream, but always with a presentation that is amazing.  To be called to the court of the High King to create one of the desserts there, is a goal of any aspiring confectioner.  One should not forget that even the poorest of the poor will try to have something in the way of a 'thanksgiving' meal, even if it be a roast bird, some tubers and a small pudding.

Hogmanay ([ˌhɔɡməˈneː] HOG-mə-NAY) is the Dwarf word for the last day of the year and is synonymous with the celebration of the New Year  in the Dwarvish manner.  It's a celebration that can be found among any enclave of Dwarves, and also among any enclave that includes, or accepts the customs of the race.  In point of fact, Hogmanay may well be more common than Thanksgiving day, in the sense that it can be found everywhere.  

   Whatever the celebration, all are welcome.  In Samovar, at the various year's end festivals, and even beginning with the fall harvest celebrations, there are no strangers, no outcasts.  There will be a place found for everyone.  

Monster’s Graveyard

When The God of Evil first came to the world, he looked on all the creatures, to see which ones he might use as his minions.  We all know that this God hates water, and all things concerned with it, but he felt that he should make some minions for that part of the world.  He worked with fish, and mammals, trying for something that could dominate the oceans, and yet remain loyal to him.

   The spirit of the water sensed that something was not right, and called to its dwellers.

   "Come forth, my children," the spirit called, "And defend the oceans, and the seas, from these abominations."

   From the shoreline to the depth of the seas they came, in answer to the spirit of the waters.  They made war on the creatures of the God of evil and drove them to the shallows near the ruins of the Library.  The evil creatures died there, and the God of evil was repulsed, such that he never again tried to conquer the domain of water.  

Now the skeletons remain, of creatures that were never born of nature.  Huge fish-like creatures, part dragon, part shark and part nightmare, lie on the beaches, and in the water.  And yet, even in evil, there is sometimes a rare treasure.  The legends say that one of the creatures, a mammoth dragon-fish, had a heart of magic.  Those creatures who are made of magic, and use it to exist, sometimes have a crystal heart, that focuses the essence of what magic is, so that they may use it.  One such creature was taken by the God of Evil, and transformed into a monstrous thing that was intended to use magic to subdue the whole world.  It perished, there, in the shadows, if it ever was at all.  None living has seen it, nor remembers it.  Only the tales mention it, and few enough of them.  Still, when the War of Mages erupted, there were those who saw it as a hope, or fear, to be searched out.  There, in the graveyard of Monsters, was, or was not, a tool that could make an Archmage of a simple spellcaster.  It was power which could determine the victor of the Mage War. Heroes and Villains alike, went forth to seek it, and many found death waiting. This, then, is the story of that search, and who it was that found, or did not find, the Heart of Magic.

A trip to the Shore, with Monsters.

    “Another one!” Kralar cursed softly, “ Where in the infernal regions do they lair?”

   The thing lept from the huge skeleton, seeking to overpower its prey.  Kralar was alert, having seen the shadow move as he was targeted.  He spun, stepped upon the bones, and launched himself to a point below the creature.  It resembled, for all the world, an undead hobgoblin.  It crunched and ichor sprayed, as Kralar’s blade made contact.  Surely broken ribs and more than a little damage, resulted.  The warrior fell back, away from his target, to avoid a counterstroke, and one  barely missed him as he did so.  The thing had six limbs, he noted, and took a moment to wonder where the rest of his crew had vanished, so abruptly.  Fortunately for Kralar, there were skeletons aplenty for his acrobatic maneuvers.  He used a huge leg bone as a platform, driving to the side and onto a rib, from which he was able to backflip over his target.  His sword was part of his landing, because he drove it so deeply that it helped to balance him.  The  monstrous foe, which had expected to land on him, was now on the ground, struggling to get support to stand.  It never got the chance, as Kralar methodically struck from above, straddling two parts of some unidentified skeleton as a perch to administer blow after blow, until the thing ceased to move.  Once that one was dead, or more dead, as the case may be, Kralar turned to search for others.  

   “Crocalgator!” Kralar heard the cry, from beyond a low dune, “Over here!”

   “Moving your way,” he answered, knowing the Dwarf would be having a tough time with the eating machine called a crocalgator.  They were mostly mouth and teeth, with hunger being a large part of the rest of them.

    Using a part of yet another skeleton, Kralar topped the short mound of sand, and saw twenty feet of lizard, with a Dwarf, trying not to become a meal for it.  With a jump, a bounce, a twisting preparation and a two-handed drive, the attacker found a place, just behind the skull of the aquatic horror, to place his swordpoint.  He was hoping for two things, one that his blade would penetrate, and two that he would find a portion of the, not overlarge, brain of the creature he struck.  He got penetration, but the brain eluded him.  Still, he felt contact with what had to be the backbone of the nightmare beast, and began twisting and jerking the pommel, hoping the blade would find a vital spot.  After the Dwarf managed to distract it, Kralar’s attack found some success.  The creature slowed, and seemed unable to function at speed.  This allowed the Dwarf to mount the snout, which closed the mouth, and then a Dwarven warhammer made sure it couldn’t open again.  The blood and sounds were nauseating, but it was dying, and no longer a threat.  Now the two combatants expanded their search, looking for the others who had come with them.   They were covered with gore, but mostly uninjured, so they moved, when they detected the sounds of a desperate fight, close by.

    “What in Black Fire is that thing?” the Dwarf said, rhetorically, since probably the thing’s own mother couldn’t have answered.

    “Something to kill,” an Elvish voice replied, and a bolt of blue lightning struck the object in question.

    It should have died, that bolt would have slain an Olephant, but it simply turned, from the injured pair it had struck, and looked for the source of the new pain.  The monster had a row of clawed appendages on either side of its central mass, and a barbed tail behind it.  It had more teeth than any creature needed, and its head swiveled as if on a gimbal. It was eerie to see the head upright, and moving toward you, when the body was canted almost at the ground.  It was also unusual to see a Dwarf smashing the barbed tail, while a Warrior sought to remove as many claws as possible.  Kralar was using the claws as a ladder, climbing toward those teeth, with the look of a dentist in his eye.  Suddenly an arrow pierced the foe, in its left eye.  The arrow promptly burst into flame, which gave the other attackers respite.  The monster could not concentrate, with it’s head on fire.

    A loud cry came from in front of the creature, and it proved that at least one of its original targets was still in the fight. A hand-and-a-half sword, glowing with golden fire, raised up and something like white flame jumped from it, to the attacking beast.  As the flames crept up the creature,  the other attackers jumped away;  those flames were blistering and corroding the carapace, as they moved. They left nothing but ash, and didn’t stop until nothing, but ash, was left.  The smell was like that of a bonfire made of insects, and Kralar finally lost his lunch.  He was in good company though, as all of the other members of his group were ill, and almost at the same second.  The cloud of miasma was actually helpful, however, since it drove any other would-be predators from the scene.  As the cloud weakened, the intrepid  band gathered around the fallen, to see what might be done about injuries.  The sword-wielder, named Jonathan, began to try to heal the most injured person, and was concentrating deeply.  Kralar turned to the Dwarf.

    “Gods and minions, Heim,”  he said worriedly, “ I hope he can save her. We’ve little chance out here without a healer.”

    “We’ve little enough chance,” Heimalithos, ever the optimistic Dwarf, answered, “Even with one.”

    “The aggregation of predators appears to be tidal in nature,” The Elf, Vermicularius, remarked, “They must form a food chain from nutrients which come from the ocean.”

     “Personally, “ A small humanoid, whose name was Gelman, spoke, “I’ve no real desire to be a part of any ‘food chain’ whatever the source.”

    “And just where,” Heim asked, “Have you been, these last few minutes?” 

   “Helping,” The halfling remarked, holding up the pouch of a hobgoblin, a palm-sized croc tooth, and a scale from the thing that had just burned to dust, “Where I could.”

    “She lives,” the warrior-healer’s voice cut off the conversation, “And will recover.”

   “Here, your Ladyship,” Gelman said, “A healing potion, to ease the pain.”

   “I thank you,” Tara, the healer, answered, pouring some on a puncture left by a barbed stinger, and drinking the rest, “But I’ve no title, unless something has changed in my family.”

    “You’re a Baroness to us,” Jon said, “And I’m sure I speak for all.”

    It was instantly apparent that the group agreed with Jon, because they clustered around the woman, obviously concerned for her health.

    “I am deeply moved by your trust,” Tara said, “But we who are Valley Elves have learned that our survival is imperiled, and I would not have my friends endangered by association.”

    “Should we find the Heartstone,” Verm remarked, “Any such consideration will be moot.”

    “Then let’s move away from the beach,” Heim put in, “Find a skull to camp in, and make ready for tomorrow,”

    “Or the next day,” Jon put in, bandaging his leg.

    “Before tomorrow has passed,” Tara promised, “We shall all be as healthy and well as before this ill-fated journey began.”

    Working there way, carefully, back into the dunes, to a place where some plants grew, and massive skull, with teeth the size of an ogre, lay, the group made camp.  The lower jaw was missing, and the gap in the dental remains was large enough to serve as a door.  Everyone found a place to rest, and there was even a small pool of reasonably clean water to use for bathing.  The warrior-healer purified it, magically, so that no infection would result.  Modesty was long since forgotten, in this group, from wounds, and the need to search for leeches and other parasites, along the way.  They undressed in three groups, so as not to face any surprise unarmored, and in an hour were cleaned, and resting.  Guard duty was two by two, and so four slept while two watched for ten hours.  The eight hours of sleep found Tara and Verm studying spells for the day, and the rest cleaning and sharpening weapons.  Gelman had spent some time on his bow, since it was seldom used, and he had just learned how useful it could be.  Jon had found time to heal his leg, and Tara had healed the rest of the group, sometime in the night.  Food was prepared, even if there wasn’t an actual cook in the bunch, and everyone ate what they could stand.  Then it was time to pack up and move.

   The small Gelman took an item from one of his many pouches, and held it by a string.  It was the thing which had earned him a place in this group, and was incredibly rare.  It located dragons, by their heart.  Since every Dragon, worth his name, had a heartstone, this item would lead them to the item they had come here to retrieve, should it actually exist.  So far, nothing had come of using the item, but each day brought new hope.  Then the item paused, in its spinning and swaying, coming to rest almost exactly between sunrise and sunset, with the sun on the right.

    “North of us is either a Dragon,” Gelman announced, “Or that thing we seek.”

    “That news should excite me,” Tara answered, “And yet it fills me with dread.”

    “I know the very feeling,” Heim agreed, “Since we started this journey, I’ve come to wonder who else might be searching.  If they’ve been able to survive here, we might just be better off not getting in their way.”

    “They probably think the same of us,” Jalar argued, “And well they should.”

    “Friends or foes notwithstanding,” Jon finished, “We have no choice in continuing, for the item we seek cannot be allowed to fall into evil hands.”

    “Can you see one of those Archmages, who have become addicted to magic,” Verm put in, “In possession of such an artifact?  It would be a concert of destruction, on a global scale.”

    “We can, at least, end the Mage war,” Tara agreed, “Because there are those who would have an end of it, and with the addition of this item, they would be able to enforce peace.”

    “It’s been my experience,” Heim remarked, “That enforcing peace is usually as violent as the war itself”

    Just what would happen, if, and when, they got the heartstone, was up in the air, but what would happen if the Mages got it was easy to predict.  The Mages were at war, over the control and use of magic, and such an item would lead to ever greater uses of more powerful magic, until something caused a world-altering spell, and it all fell down.  There was a place, in the Desert, where the very  ground was green and anyone who visited got sick and died.  It was rumored that the green stone, found there, would, itself, carry death to anyone who possessed it.  Such magics were not to be trifled with, and those addicted to Magic would use such, just for the thrill and rush of the power, inherent in the use.  Ever more magic, and ever more power, that was the  path of the addict.  And eventually, if one was not destroyed by the conflict, the power of the magic itself would consume you, leaving nothing behind, no trace, of what you once were.

    With nothing decided, and still talking, softly, among themselves, the group moved North.  They didn’t know where they were going and they didn’t know exactly what they expected to find.  More than that, they might not know when they arrived.

   “Are you sure we’re not a bunch of drunks,” Heim asked, “Looking for a Bar that one of us has heard about, but never seen?”

    “That’s about the best description I can think of,” Kralar said, “We’re lost, and don’t know it, and we’ve no idea where we’re bound, but we are making good time to get there.” 

    Over the next few hours, the group avoided several packs of predators, and moved generally north, until they began to see ever more skeletons, and these were obviously the remains of creatures who had killed one another.  Some were sea creatures, like octopi and squid, who left little in the way of remains, but what they had killed was still in evidence.  Creatures, that had no analog in modern times, lay dead on what had once been the beach.  Either the land had risen or the Ocean receded, over time.  Now sand and scrub wove itself among the bones.  The sky was leaden, and the day should have been chilled.  It was kind of an unnatural warmth, here.  Heim described it as the wind from the jungle blowing across the Moors.  Clammy, but not cold, Humid but not warm.  It was surreal, and made more so by the remains of fantastic creatures, who had fought and died here, long, long ago.  Even the scavengers seemed loath to enter, so that the plants were not grazed, and the paths were narrow, lying where nothing could grow, from stone and sand.  

    “This is a graveyard,” Kralar remarked, “And no mistake.”

    “And what died here,” Heim noted, “Left no descendents.”

    “Some of the combatants were natural,” Verm argued, “And are easily identifiable, if larger than specimens I’ve seen or heard about.  It’s as if nature was battling against some ultimate evil, like Fifnir himself.”

    “Ooh, the God of Evil sent his minions to conquer the Oceans,”  Gelman said, sarcastically, “Like I haven’t heard that myth since I was a child.”

    “The war with Fifnir was real,” Jon put in, “Traces of it remain all over the world.”

    “Yah, but he hated water,” Tara put in, “Why would there be a war of him versus the Ocean?”

    “The Elders say,” Heim went into his lecturer’s voice, “That Fifnir wanted to eradicate every living thing when he first came to the world.  He wasn’t able to conquer the Ocean, for some reason, and He never tried again.  This may well be that battle.”

    All conversation was cut off then, as a snake like creature, black as night and as deadly as starvation, raised up out of the sand.  It was easily large enough to swallow any of them whole, and looked very much like it intended to do so.  The party dispersed, into a semicircle, so that the creature could not focus on a group.  When it moved toward one, the rest would attack, and then fall away, until it moved again.  After the third or fourth time this tactic worked, the creature figured out that it needed to commit, and chose the largest for a victim.  Jonathan was thrilled to be singled out, because that meant that the magic, arrows and swordplay could continue unabated.  Then the creature began driving it’s head at the sand, over and over.  No one could understand the reason, until they finally saw Gelman, crouched on the creature’s head, driving a dagger into its skull, repeatedly.  There came a moment when it came close to Kralar, and he put his entire sword into the hole Gelman had made.  Shortly thereafter, the snake died.  

    “What on Thoss possessed you to climb on its head?” Heim asked the small man.

   “It had horns,” Gelman replied.

    Then it became apparent.  The horns had shielded Gelman from the creature’s attempts to dislodge it, and it couldn’t even use it’s own coils, because Gelman was crouched between the horns, and thus protected.  It was an ingenious attack, and worked doubly well, since the stab wound was perfect for a sword thrust, at the appropriate moment.  Gelman enjoyed his moment of fame and honor.  At his size, and of his race, such events were rare.

    “Now we need to look sharp,” Tara reminded them all, “This graveyard is not abandoned, and  may contain something that keeps it mostly empty.”

   “We should find a hiding place,” Gelman suggested, “And watch, to see what eats the snake we killed.”

    “Wisdom?” marveled Verm, “From a Halfling?  I’m amazed that I could have been so blind, and wrong.”

    “Seems to me, Heim said, “This Halfling has put the whole group together, from the first, to now, and it was his item that made it possible.  Perhaps Halflings are smarter than people think.”

    “They’re the only race that’s welcome anywhere,” Tara noted, “They’ve been able to get along among all the other races, without any real problem, except for the bigots who are trying to wipe out the rest of us.”

    “They just want the world to be human, and no one else,” Kralar said, “My foster parents would never exist, in their world.  And those bigots will not have a place in mine.”

    The group had been climbing a skeleton, during this time, and were perched high upon a spinal protrusion.  They could see for miles, and the spectacle was daunting.   

   "That movement, in the distance," Kralar said, "Is that a Hydra?"

   "I think so," answered Verm, "It moves correctly, and has multiple heads."

   Suddenly something moved from under the sand.  Even at this distance, it was obviously huge.  It emerged and in a few bites, left the hydra no more than a memory.

   "That was big," Jon noted, "Even among the huge."

   "I wonder, can we just fly, from here?" Gelman asked, "It might be safer."

   "I wish I had a spell to do that," Verm noted, "I really don't want to meet that thing from under the sand.  Not anywhere, at all."

   Kralar noticed a line of stone, then, which was virtually unbroken, and ran across the sand to the north.  It almost looked like the remains of a road, had the pieces been smaller.  Once he had mentioned it, everyone noticed it, and began to follow its progress, in their mind. Finally Tara broke the silence.

   "It goes to that rock pile just beyond the horizon,"she said, "I'm almost sure of it."

   "That's not a rock pile," corrected Heim, "It's a skeleton as large as a village."

   Once that was realized, it  became obviously the choice for the next leg of their journey.  From atop that carcass they would be able to see for miles in all directions, and possibly gain some insight into where to find the thing they sought, not to mention, they could use the ‘finder’ again, and perhaps actually see it.  It was simple enough to dismount the perch they had, and the journey to a place atop the flat stones was accomplished with a swiftness that belied any trace of weariness they may have had, from traveling all morning across a sandy scrub.  One might have thought them afraid of what lurked beneath the sand.  When they looked back and saw a huge avian swoop down, to take a chunk of the snake they had killed, the Magician called a halt.

   “I’ve a spell that will make us pass unnoticed,” Verm told them, “It’s not actual invisibility, but it makes it appear that we aren’t there, visually.  Creatures that smell or use vibration to hunt, will still be able to detect us, but, as far as sight is concerned, we’ll be protected for the rest of the day.”

   “Cast it then,” Heim demanded, “I don’t care to be birdseed along the trail.”

   The spell was a matter of moments, and the group lost no time in putting distance from themselves and the carrion behind them.  After more hours than they should have gone, without a rest, the group reached a place where a boulder lay beside the path.  There they camped, for the night, certain that they could reach the skeleton on the following day.  The day had been without a hint of sun, and the night was black beyond darkness.  Neither stars nor moon shone, and the campfire seemed almost cheerful in that humid morass of pitch.  Guards need not be posted, because no one could sleep more than a short while, before some tiny noise would wake them.  Everyone was certain that something haunted the darkness, and it was huge.

    Trail rations at daybreak were the only delay before the party began to move.  Somehow no one had unpacked much, and, while sleeping in armor is uncomfortable, no one had any illusions that they could have slept without it.  Movement was slow, because they were tired and cautious, but it continued for six hours, until the massive group of bones came before them.  It was complete, a skeleton without a single flaw, and it glowed, from end to end.  In the center of the back, piercing through what would have been the carcass of the living creature, was a black spear-like rod, as large as a man’s body and longer than a tree is tall.  In front of the glowing skeleton was a crushed and mangled creature’s bones, that must have been a cross between a scorpion, a stingray, and a Castle main building.  The group stood, in awe, wondering at the battle which must have transpired.  The creatures here were larger than anything around them, and probably represented the most powerful of the creations by either side.  This fascinated Tara and Verm, while Jon and Gelman couldn’t get around the size of the battle, and number of its constituents.  Heim and Kralar were less impressed with the battle and more with the remains.

   “Can it be, Heim?” Kralar asked quietly, almost reverently, “I’ve heard legends, but is that really what it seems?”

    “I’m as certain as a Dwarf can be,” Heimalithos told him, “That’s a spear of antimagic, from the stinger of whatever that scorpion thing was.  It freezes magic and stops anything from occurring, within its touch, or field, if used in that way.”

   “Then we’re wealthy,” Kralar announced, “Comfortably well off,,,, of independent means,,,, secure in our investments…”

    “Did you just say, antimagic?” Verm began to really look at the spear,,,, that can’t be,,, it’s too large…”

    “It is,” Tara confirmed, “I saw a tiny piece when I was much younger, and you can’t mistake the light absorption of the thing.”

   “A piece about the size of a dinner plate, and about as thick, sells for a thousand gold,” Gelman breathed, “That spear is a lifetime of wealth for us all, and more besides.”

   “I could build a school for teaching the art of being a Warrior-Priest”, Jonathan said, obviously dreaming while awake.

   “ I think we need to figure out a way to dislodge it, and get it back to somewhere we can sell it.” Tara said, “It’s the answer to all our hopes and dreams, if we can keep it from being stolen or destroyed.”

   “If we could find the stone,” Verm said, “on the same trip, we could use it as a method for getting our spear safely home.”

    “Let’s not get greedy,” Kralar cautioned, “We’ve just gotten as lucky as any group in recorded history.  Let us be thankful, and not tempt fate, or Karma, or any deity that might exist, and be listening.”

   “First we need to remove it, and that won’t be easy,” Verm cautioned. “We can’t touch it, because it would suck the life right out of us.”

    “Lots of bones, here,” Heim remarked, “And we’ve rope and to spare.  I say we build an A-frame, and pull it like a splinter.”

   “I’ve got a block and tackle, somewhere here,” Gelman was searching his pouches, “With that we could probably get it in a single lift.”

   A creature, not unlike a centipede, broke out of the sand then, and was greeted with an arrow, a spell, and three attacks, almost as quickly as the telling.  It died so suddenly that it probably never even realized it was attacked.  The party drug the carcass down the path for enough distance that anything seeking it would be unlikely to notice them, and then returned to the site of the black spear.  

    Karma, or fate, or nasty coincidence, was waiting.  There was a carpet, hovering over the area , but at great height, so that it was not directly concerned with the party below.  What was upon it, or drove it, was anybody’s guess.  

    “You want to cast that spell to make us hard to notice?” Kralar asked Verm.

     “Already done,” said Verm, when we were hauling that carcass.  I didn’t want anything flying to see us with it.”

    The flyers seemed to be unaware that someone was on the ground, and simply lowered their craft toward the area of the giant skeleton.  They must have been intent on the search, or examining the antimagic, because they failed to see the flock of winged predators coming from above.  The massive, wild, tearns, were hungry and saw a meal before them.  They were in a power dive, to simply drive their prey to the ground.  A warning would have been wasted, since the distance was so great, and besides, the riders on the carpet might well be mages, intent on finding and retrieving the stone of magic.  Such a group would unquestionably slay those who were close to finding it, or just in the way of the mages at hand.  It soon became moot, anyway.  When the lead Tearn reached the carpet, it found a barrier, which caused it to veer past.  The remainder closed rapidly, but the shower of spells that burst forth, from those flying on the carpet, was like a listing of offensive spells from a school of wizardry.  In but an instant, the Tearns were driven in all directions.  Some were frozen, some were electrified, and some were on fire, among those who were not simply dead.  The carpet moved away from the focus of the attack, and more spells poured out, killing the remainder of the Tearns.  It was an almost perfect defense, but had one failing.  The mages were not aware of the antimagic, it was simply a black artifact stuck in a skeleton.  When the flight magic of the carpet got too close, everything came undone.

    The antimagic flowed through the carpet, and washed over all of the Mages aboard.  They became old men, with staves, hanging in mid-air, about 90 feet from the ground,  The dirt, beneath them, was an unforgiving sand, or mostly rock, where it was not skeletal remains.  They fell, and died, to a man, or more properly, Archmage. They were obviously from the Mage war, and, tragic though it was, their death was a boon to those below. Now they could examine the antimagic stinger, and see if there be a way to extract it. 

    “I’ll put together the A-frame,” Heim was saying,as if nothing had happened, “And make sure it’s tall enough for the lift.” 

    “I’ll get the block and tackle ready to attach,” Gelman promised, “With a little help.”

    “I’ll help Heim,” Jon said.

    “I’ll join you,” Kralar put in.

    “We’ll help Gelman,” Tara spoke for herself and Verm, “It should go quickly that way.”

   

   A couple of hours later, the apparatus was ready for its first attempt.  It was designed by a Dwarf and two Elves, so it worked flawlessly.  In another hour, the spear came free, and was lowered to the sand, swiftly covered with that grainy stuff and bones, to prevent accidental contact.  The bones turned to powder when they touched the thing, but it was covered in minutes anyway.  Then Gelman turned to the skeleton where it had been lodged.

    “Uh,, Guys…” he began, somehow, crouching, even as he backed away.

    When they all turned to look, the skeleton had transformed. No longer simply glowing, it was alive with magic, drawing moisture from the clouds, and substance from the skeletal bones around it.  The party put a respectable distance between themselves and the maelstrom of energy which had erupted before them, and just in time.  That creature, the very huge one which had eaten the hydra, had been tracking the various battles they had fought, not to mention the Tearns who had fallen, and now was drawn to the vibration of the gigantic skeleton, so wrapped in magic and power.  The skeleton, sensing a foe, reached out and absorbed the entire creature, becoming almost completely flesh and blood, in the process.  It was a Turtle Dragon, only the second one ever known to exist in the world, and it was male.  In a few minutes, it had finished regrowing, and spoke.

    “Thanks for pulling that stinger out,” it said, “It’s been a thorn in my flesh for centuries.”

    Gelman, being a halfling, and almost immune to fear, walked up to the Dragon and began a conversation.  Eventually, seeing him alive and well, the others joined in.  They shared what little they knew of the local area, all the information they had on his mate, and the death of Fifnir, all of which made the Dragon happy.  He was positively elated to learn that he could find his beloved in the lake, which she had made in the desert, and told them he’d be going there as soon as he thanked them properly.  From the equipment scattered about, he created a magical sling.  Its properties were such that with it, they could carry the stinger.  The Dragon also gave it the properties of the flying carpet, so that they could ride back to civilization, in a carrier.  Then, with a final thanks to all, he mounted the sky and flew off, to cross the continent and seek out the Lute Dragon, who was his soulmate.  She couldn’t fly, but, then again, he couldn’t breathe water.  

   “Well, we know where the stone was,” Heim remarked, “It must have been that dragon’s heart.”

   “The locator says it’s still here,” remarked Gelman, just over near where the scorpion skeleton was.”

    The rush to the scattered remains was, perhaps, not conducted in the most cautious of ways, nor was it slow and methodical.  They all ran to the area, completely unconcerned as to what might be nearby, or even waiting in ambush.  They had been seeking the “Stone of Magic” for almost a year now, and suddenly it was before them.  They probably killed half a dozen creatures, before the area was clear to search.  All of them were wounded, and two were slightly poisoned, but they persevered.  It turned out that the creature, which the Turtle Dragon had devoured, possessed the Magical Stone, and now it was lying in the sand.  Using a tarp, three of them lifted it, and placed it in the carry basket of the sling.  Healing was done, poisons neutralized, and parasites removed, then they all mounted, for the journey home.  They were arguing about how to dispose of the two items before they had gotten fully airborne.  

    “I still think the Dwarves at Whitsno would be the most likely buyers,” Heim argued, “They have the funds, and are most likely to oppose the Mages in the magic war.”

    “I think we should seek out the opposition forces, in the war itself.”  Tara said, “They’ll be in charge if they win, and this will give the edge to be victorious.  That might be our best hope for a decent life, after the war is over.”

   “The best option I see,” Jon said, “Is to allow those from the schools of healing to be in charge of the items.  We won’t get as much in the way of recompense, but we’ll be safe from retribution.”

   “There are others who might see us as a target,” Verm put in, “If we place these items out of their reach.”

    “If anyone cares,” Gelman spoke up, “I’d always just planned to take them to Samovar.  The Prince of the South is the same Gladriel who fought the God of Evil and defeated him.  He’s got money he’ll never spend, and his wife is Maude, Queen, under the High King, of all the Dark Elves on the surface.  Not to mention, he’s got Alhabra, the Guardian Dragon, and both Eglion, the Archmage, and Kur Lee, the Mage of Samovar.  Oh, and did I mention, his second wife is Strider, Princess of Elves, Daughter of the Queen of the Western Elves, and a  Valley Elf herself?”

   “That calls my vote,” Tara said, “My Queen is my Queen, even if I’m a lost child.”

   “Mine as well,”  noted Verm, “Kur Lee has a reputation as a Mage who is not addicted, and Eglion is a known opponent of the Mage Wars.”

   “I’ll join the consensus,” Heim put in, “High Councilman Tagernoab is a close friend of the Prince, and a Hero among Dwarves everywhere.”

    “The Heroes of Samovar are many,” Jonathan added, “And while Maude is known worldwide, Lorelei is the finest of Healers, Duchess of Samovar, and the most beautiful of women. I’ve dreamt of meeting her.”

    “I’ve always wanted to be among the warriors of Samovar,” Kralar voiced his agreement, “To see Prince Gladriel, Gaelehn, Black Cat, and the others would be an adventure in itself.  And they have a reputation for honesty and integrity that is unmatched in the world.”

  “It’s settled, then,” Tara decided, “We go to Samovar.”