The Nerevarine Chronicles

Peace and Prosperity The kingdom of Avalon had existed for nearly a millennium, enjoying peace and prosperity for many of those centuries. In the ebb and flow of time, the races of Avalon united when necessary to converge on a common foe. For the most part, however the dwarves and elves tended to themselves and let the humans, with their shorter life spans, micro-manage the kingdom.

As was the custom among humans at the time, people were addressed first by their surname and then their given name. The family name had taken precedence some generations prior, when the Great Houses of Northwind took prominence. Each ruling family was designated as House so-and-so. It did not take long for the custom to trickle out to the human rulers in Dai-Rynn and Dormack. The Great Houses were sometimes referenced by the family crest. House Dagoth, who were worshippers of Pelor, sported a rising sun above a sword, and was commonly called the Sun-and-Sword. House Indoril was called the Moon-and-Star, after their crest, which resembled a tiny slice of the night sky. House Indoril followed Heironeous and the origin of their crest remains a mystery. After the events surrounding the Nerevarine Prophecies, however, this all but ended. Family names were held with honor and pride, but took no more importance over the individual than they had prior. The Great Houses stopped referring to each other as such and that era was left in the wake of these unfortunate events to fade only into the annals of history.

The year was 955 and in the baronies of Caldera (now southern Belois) and Ilien (now northern Belois) in Dai-Rynn, two heirs were born. Indoril Nerevar was born to King Indoril Khader of House Indoril in Ilien and Dagoth Ur was born to Kind Dagoth Ulvin in Caldera. Though they were located in different kingdoms, the two kingdoms shared a common border and had been allies for generations. Such were the ties between them that one often consulted the other for advice and children of the ruler would often spend a great deal of time in the court of the other if they had children as well. Their armies also often worked together, almost forming an unofficial militia of sorts.

With both kingdoms blessed with heirs only a few months apart, both lands were chaotic with revelry and festivals. Both kings were very well thought of and liked by their populace and friendly neighbors as well. The unfriendly neighbors, well, they had been dealt with and no longer lived to voice opinions. It was widely rumored that one of the two would become the next ruler Dai-Rynn and possibly High King at some point. Surlan Ogrier of House Surlan currently held the High Throne and was a wise and just ruler. He would rule for another 36 years, to the astounding age of 66, but much of what was to come would come in turmoil.

Dagoth Ur and Indoril Nerevar essentially grew up together, hit on the same girls at society functions, and trained as soldiers alongside one another. They led their respective armies to victories across their lands and when the need arose, into others. The two armies combined when needed to create a formidable mobile military unit, known as the Fedaykin, elven for “swift blade”, or “swift strike”. Neither had tasted defeat, often saving victories personally at an opportune moment. In their 22nd year, their combat prowess would be needed. And tested.

Evil Rises It began as most things do, rather small. In the year 975, one of the members of a small sect of Nerull worshippers (they tend to kill each other off, so sects never get big) attempted to become a lich. He succeeded. One lich in a land is a serious concern, yes, but that’s what adventurers are for. And once word spread, adventurers did heed the call and slew the lich, destroying his phylactery gem.

However, unbeknownst to all (even the lich), another member of the sect had made other plans for his brethren. He had taken the opportunity to seize the phylactery when the lich was slain, and while the party searched for it, replaced it with a fake one. No one would be the wiser for a few years to come.

Then, in 677, the lich was seen again. Folks assumed that it was the same one, since only a few saw it and lived to tell about it. Rumor has it that those folks were only servants of Nerull, sent to stir the pot. The adventurers who slew the lich were cursed as liars and cowards and shunned by all. They went out in search of the lich once more. They never returned.

Only a few months after they set out, did the truth become clearer. Undead rose across the lands of Avalon. Strange undead, with flesh of ash. They were stronger and more resistant to being turned. Worse yet, those they killed rose up just like them the next day. Burning the corpses only speeded up the process and other forms of damaging the corpse did not work, as the undead seemed to form from the ground itself at times. No manner of priestly magic could prevent the ash undead from rising. They just had to be slain once they rose.

The more powerful ash undead, known as Ash Vampires, could curse a person. Once cursed, the ash undead disregarded them. They were soon afflicted with a horrible disease and doomed. The disease quickly became known as The-Curse-of-Flesh-and- Soul. It made the body swell into a grotesque shape and caused the mind to deteriorate rapidly. Those who suffered from this quickly perished and rose themselves, as sort of an off-shoot of the ash undead. Only paladins were safe from this disease and no means of healing, magic or mundane, could cure it, only delay it. It officially became known as Corprus Disease.

The disease spawned from the lich itself. The original phylactery had been desecrated by the other priest and enchanted such that he could control the lich. The desecration and following rituals gave birth to the ash-lich and the ash undead. Armies across all of Avalon banded together to fight off the ash undead, whose numbers continued to grow despite their efforts. Priests of all deities met to attempt to find a solution. Humans, elves, and dwarves alike found the same measure of success and failure against the ash undead. Elves and Dwarves too became undead and also fell to Corprus.

With so many people lost and the enemy’s numbers growing, everyone who could fight was called to. In some ways this led to more ash undead as those untrained folks were quickly slaughtered just to rise again on the opposite side. Those who would not normally ride into battle had to, such as the kings themselves. In the year 980, Dagoth Ulvin and Indoril Khader were slain in a pitched battle where the mastermind evil priest was killed. Their sons would assume the roles of kings, but continued to fight. The two returned to their lands only briefly to officially become liege lord then to turn around and appoint someone acting regent while they road off to battle once more. For years to come they and many others did not return home often, but waged war against the lich and his ash undead. Many times, the lich was found, only to have everyone who attacked him killed and turn against their land.

Dagoth Ur and Indoril Nerevar won countless battles and lost fewer soldiers than anyone. For eleven years, the two took their armies across the whole of Avalon, destroying the ash undead by small pockets. After each passing year, the threat lessened. The armies of Avalon and their soldiers found time to return home for months at a time before heading back out. The two kings visited their homes less, but even they needed to see their families. Both had married and both had children; Dagoth Ur a son and Indoril Nerevar a daughter. Nerevar promised Dagoth Ur that his son could marry his daughter and the families would unite.

In that eleventh year, 991, tragedy again struck. Feeling that the battle was almost won, High King Surlan Ogrier decided to lead the last battle against the lich himself. He was in the twilight of his life and he knew it. He had ascended to the high throne at the relatively young age of 28. He was a paladin of Heironeous of great skill, courage, and wisdom. He had battled the ash undead as need be since he was immune to the Corprus disease and had faired very well, despite his age. He was determined to save the kingdom. Fearing a cowardly reputation, the kings of Northwind, Dormack, and Dai- Rynn all headed into battle with him. All of the kingdoms that had rulers who could fight followed suit, otherwise heirs or commanders were sent and in most cases, they were sent as well.

They road to where they had pinned in the lich, a region known as Red Mountain. The combined armies of Avalon took the Red Mountain fortress by storm. They fought bravely, but large forces of the lich’s Ash Vampires were present at the fortress and soon it became apparent that all was lost. Well, not quite all. Lord Nerevar, as he was known, ordered a retreat despite not being the highest ranking commander present. He and Dagoth Ur saved many lives in the face of the defeat and earned even more respect and admiration for seeing that the remaining rulers and soldiers survived. High King Surlan Ogrier and his heir were slain as well as Northwind’s monarch, King Eargas Farlin. Both Houses’ lineage ended that day. Some other houses felt the pain, since a few of the minor kings and heirs did not last the day either. Elven families and Dwarven clans lost key members as well, including the king of Dai-Rynn and the heir to the Dormack throne. The elf king of Dai-Rynn had lost both his son and daughter years earlier and died without an heir. It was a dark day for all of Avalon.

Rise of the Moon-and-Star Lord Nerevar, now 36, was chosen as the new High King and Dagoth Ur, just a few months younger, was selected to be the King of Dai-Rynn. They served in name only, as they continued to battle the undead across the land. They had, however, a winning strategy. They hunted down the Ash Vampires one by one until they were gone. They even ventured into Red Mountain to find the last of them.

The Ash Vampires were gone and the number of Corprus victims fell to none almost overnight. With the last of the lich’s lieutenants destroyed, they combined forces and set out to destroy the lich once and for all. It was decided that Nerevar, who was truly the better fighter and leader of the pair, would lead a combined force to slay the lich while Dagoth Ur would take a smaller force and find the phylactery, which they were sure was located in Red Mountain, not next to, but close to the lich itself.

Dagoth Ur sought out the phylactery and it took him weeks inside Red Mountain to do so. The treacherous fortress left him with only half of his original troops by the time the evil artifact was discovered. Each man tried to destroy the item and none succeeded. Feeling pressed for time, Dagoth decided that he would simply take it with him, find Lord Nerevar, and at least help him fight the lich.

Lord Nerevar’s army assaulted Red Mountain two weeks after Dagoth Ur invaded. They had received no word from Dagoth’s unit for the week they had been in the fortress. Lord Nerevar feared the worst and decided that they must face the lich, or risk losing too many soldiers to the perils of the lich’s stronghold. In the bowels of Red Mountain, Lord Nerevar found his prey. The battle waged for hours, but Lord Nerevar triumphed.

The ash-lich resurrected and the battle continued. Hours later once more, Lord Nerevar struck the lich down. The lich resurrected a third time. Again, Lord Nerevar achieved victory, but now there were too few soldiers and they were too exhausted fight. Then, like an answered prayer, Dagoth Ur arrived, phylactery in hand. All tried to destroy the cursed item, but all failed. The small group of warriors, priests, and wizards waited and waited for the lich to rise again, but it did not. The beleaguered army finally left Red Mountain, uncertain if they had won the day or not.

Upon reaching their homes, they were regarded as heroes and saviors, but they were unsure at best. After a month with no sightings of the ash undead and after having rested and recruited more soldiers, Lord Nerevar decided to venture into Red Mountain once more, just to be certain. Dagoth Ur joined him and brought the evil phylactery with him.

The army reached Red Mountain and found it was occupied by the ash undead again. It took another month to clear Red Mountain and reach the lich once more. It had resurrected yet again. It was no more powerful than it had been, and though they lost a large percentage of their original number, the lich was defeated. It did not rise, though they waited for days.

It was concluded that while the phylactery (which still could not be destroyed) was near the lich, but it the possession of a non-evil being, then it was unable to rise. Realizing this theory meant that someone had to stay with the phylactery near the lich for their lifetime and then someone else had to step in, the best idea the group could come up with was to leave it in charge of one family. One family would guard against this evil for eternity.

Lord Nerevar stared hard at those who had survived the battles with the lich. One by one, their eyes met his and they flinched in his gaze, averting their eyes or turning their heads. Finally, his eyes met the steely gaze of his friend, Dagoth Ur. Dagoth merely smiled and nodded at his friend. He too knew what was needed of someone that day.

“Old friend” Dagoth said as he slapped Nerevar’s shoulder heartily. “I will do this task. The Sun-and-Sword will serve Avalon from Red Mountain. House Dagoth and House Indoril will not unite after all. Send your daughter the courts of another kingdom or choose her husband yourself.”

Nerevar smiled at his friend. Deep down, he knew that Avalon still needed him out there and that House Dagoth would suffer for their sacrifice. He steadied his own lip and decreed “No. Our houses shall unite as I promised. Sara and Ardin are old enough. They shall wed, here in Red Mountain! Your new home, old friend”.

And so it was that Indoril Sara and Dagoth Ardin were married in what was an extravagant and beautiful ceremony at Red Mountain. It was an excuse for the entire kingdom to celebrate and breathe a sigh of relief. No expense was spared. Wondrous elven sculptures and other works of art were shipped in and dwarven smiths made Red Mountain into a palace worthy of any king.

It was decided that Caldera would be incorporated into Ilien and that Nerevar would appoint a regent to govern them until he had another heir. Sara and Ardin lived in Red Mountain with the rest of the House Dagoth retainers, servants, and staff. It was truly a court unto itself. It became a pilgrimage pint for many and though House Dagoth really had no land to govern, they were among the wealthiest family ever to live on Avalon.

After a year in Red Mountain, Dagoth Sara gave birth to a boy, who would continue to guard the phylactery after Dagoth Ur and her husband. And herself, or course. She was now a member of House Dagoth as well and she would honor her promise to her father and guard the evil gem until her last breath. She remembered his words clearly “Or until we can find a way to destroy it, my faithful daughter”.

That was really what Nerevar wanted, and as High King of Avalon, he could make it so. Scholars, priests, wizards, and anyone else who he thought had a chance to destroy it was sent to Red Mountain. This continued for years. No one could destroy the phylactery and as time passed, fewer tried. It seems that they were running out of ideas.

Fall of the Sun-and-Sword In the year 1003, an enigmatic figure came to the court of the high king, Lord Nerevar. Stating he had information regarding the phylactery, he was allowed in. He was an elf. He had long, silver hair and wore a simple, yet elegant white robe adorned with runes and symbols. His eyes were not white, nor gray, but foggy, almost as if they were covered in a mist or a veil. Facing the high king, he bowed slightly, and then spoke.

“Trouble brews in Red Mountain. Old alliances die. Friends become foes. Brothers become devils. The Sun sets on the Sword and the Red of the Mountain spills into Avalon.”

He whirled away and strode from the room. Lord Nerevar stood before the strange elf exited and bellowed “Wait! What do you mean!? Who are you!?”

The elf stopped before leaving to respond. He turned, saying only “I am the Kwisatz Haderach”.

Since his kingdom of Ilien resided within the ancient elven boundary of Dai-Rynn, Lord Nerevar knew the name was important, but did know why. He summoned elven elders to advise him. When they arrived in his court, they explained. The Kwisatz Haderach is the commonly known as The Oracle. He has not been seen in ages. It is believed however, that he is the voice of the immortal Anarthus, whom the elves know of.

Nerevar gathered a smattering of honor guard troops (his Fedaykin) and rode for Red Mountain. Half way there, they met a group of riders traveling towards them. In the company of that group was his daughter, Dagoth Sara. She was injured and spoke of the return of the ash undead and that she had been turned on by her husband and had to slay him. He rose from the dead and killed their son. She fled Red Mountain with a few surviving servants. The king sent his daughter to the capitol to heal.

As Nerevar’s army approached Red Mountain, they encountered the ash undead. They slogged their way through them and into the fortress itself. What awaited them was nothing short of horror. The ash undead were everywhere. Corprus victims lay about in various stages of the disease. Nerevar made a quick decision. He turned his troops and they made way for the capitol.

Lord Nerevar gathered a proper army and rode for Red Mountain once more. His army made their way into the fortress, destroying the undead as they went. His ferocity was such that he slew many more times the number of the evil creatures as did anyone else. After eradicating the ash vampires, he headed again in the bowels of the complex.

Once there, his eyes caught sight of something that made even the mighty Nerevar afraid. There, one a throne of bone and ash was a being who resembled hi sold friend. But the body was twisted and gray. It had no hair and even seated, was easily larger than a man.

The creature rose upon seeing Nerevar and hissed “My lord. You have finally arrived”. It spread its arms out wide. “Look at what you’ve done! My house is gone! All I did I did for you, my lord! My sacrifice for the greater good. I volunteered for the solemn duty so that you did not have to ask. All I did I did for you! Your blood killed my blood. Now I shall show you the true meaning of power!”

Nerevar could not speak, nor move. He was simply frozen in place and for the first time in his life, he saw a foe he did not know he could defeat. Then came death. The creature that was once Dagoth Ur unleashed his curse upon the troops in the form of a firestorm. Someone shoved Nerevar out of the way and he was spared all but a minor singing on his lower body. When he rose, the fire had burned through half of his army and those who succumbed were already rising.

Gathering himself, he gave orders. Commanding the others to take care of their former comrades, he made way to Dagoth Ur. The two fought long after the other undead had been dealt with. Dagoth Ur ignored the other combatants, though he killed quite a few still that had to be put down again.

After 4 hours of ferocious combat, reinforcements arrived led. At the head of the new army was Dagoth Sara, not entirely healed, but well enough. She approached the battle and called to her father. Distracted, Nerevar was felled by a fierce blow from the clawed hand of Dagoth Ur. His helmet was shattered and his fate was sealed. The high king would die in Red Mountain. But not without a fight.

As Sara hurried to her father, Nerevar lie still for an instant, hearing his heartbeat fade in his ears. He opened his eyes. He saw Dagoth Ur hover over him, batting away soldiers like insects.

“Now, you will now pain for eternity. For betraying me, you will serve me”.

“Never, fiend!”

Nerevar’s sword split the air and the chest of Dagoth Ur. The creature staggered, hissed, and fell. Still on its knees, it issued a final proclamation.

“I am not defeated! I will not be defeated by you! My house will rise again! I will rise again! Death is but a doorway. Time is but a window. My house shall rise again!”

With its final words, Dagoth Ur collapsed and was no more. Lord Nerevar never heard his last words. The phylactery fell to the ground, on a chain around the neck of Dagoth Ur.

Dagoth Sara now held her father’s head in her lap, weeping terribly. It was her fault that her father had fallen. She had distracted him. She had killed the mightiest of men in the land. She looked upon the corpse her former father-in-law. It was already turning to ash. She got to her feet, wiping tears from her face.

Cursing like a veteran sailor, she grabbed her father’s sword in both hands. Barely able to control the weapon, she raised it above her head.

“I renounce the name of Dagoth! I curse that name to the ash that took it! May you never rest, even in hell! I curse you, Dagoth Ur! I curse you for all eternity!”

She lowered the blade of her father and shattered the phylactery, knocking herself and all those within ten feet to the ground. It is still not known how she could destroy the phylactery, but it was accepted and not really pondered much.

The island was pleased to have the whole unhappy event behind them. The high throne was offered to Indoril Sara more or less as a token of honor for her father, but she declined, deciding only to rule as queen over Ilien. She was too occupied with grief to rule the entire island and she knew it, and at 22, she was considered too young by most. The only surviving major king, King Ornulf Ironhand of Dormack takes the high throne.

Sara would ascend to the high throne eventually, though. In her 40th year, she took the mantle of high queen of Avalon, one of only few females to rule the land. She changed the nomenclature of the human houses back to the standard we know today. Even though she married twice, outliving both husbands, she never took their names. No one argued with her. She was her father’s daughter and it was easy to tell. She ruled for 40 glorious years and died at the extreme age of 80.

At her funeral was an old elf who had silver hair and foggy eyes. He wept for the queen and addressed all those present. He recited what was to be known as the Nerevarine Prophecy. It spoke of the rise of the house of ash and the one who would come and end the threat for all eternity. Then, he took the moon-and-star insignia ring from the queen’s hand. There were some objections to this act, but the ancient elf merely waved his hand and all present were stunned and silenced, only able to watch as he left.

Sara had given birth to eight children, not including her first child with Dagoth Ardin. Of the eight, she outlived five of them. The remaining three seemingly disappear from history, lost in the shadow of their mother and their grandfather. None ever sat on the high throne or the throne of Dai-Rynn.

After Sara’s death, the power of the Great Houses of Avalon waned until they were no longer known as such. The unity forged against the lich eroded and the smaller kingdoms began to war with each other again. Ilien itself became Belois in time, and the story of House Indoril and House Nerevar was forgotten. 1985.12.25 Education of a Prince

The thick forests of Belois had shed their leaves months ago now reached into the sky like a thousand skeleton fingers escaping from the grave. Prince Artorious surveyed the landscape and evaluated his enemy. Three hundred yards away, standing just inside a tree line across the imaginary boundary between kingdoms, was the army of Sinfor. The king had begun to allow his generals to attack up and down the borders between the kingdoms looking for weakness. The armies of Belois were so full of talented woodsmen that the only way for the dwarven infantry of Sinfor to have an advantage was to use the winter months to catch Belois off their guard. These attacks had escalated throughout the month and now came to a crescendo on this day.

The prince looked back over his men. He was flanked by six horsemen, his knights. They were not knights in the traditional sense; they were merely loyal warriors that could effectively fight from horseback. Most of them were frontiersmen, capable fighters trying to make money in the service of the king or pay off a family debt, but those who stood beside him now had served him the longest did so out of loyalty. Behind the knights were nearly one hundred soldiers, armed with long spears and swords. Half of them had shields, and the other half preferred not to use them. His archers had been decimated in a battle weeks earlier when his position was flanked. He'd managed to win the day, but now his ranged fighters numbered only twenty.

"It looks like they want to fight, Arthur," the knight on his left grumbled. The man was nearly as wide as he was tall and resembled a grizzly bear. His name was Bors, and he was a barbarian in every sense of the word. He was fiercely loyal to those he called friends and when he entered a battle, he achieved a rage that tore through enemies like paper. This was completely opposite of his regular demeanor. He had a woman at home that would swear he was the gentlest man in the kingdom. Although they had never married, they had ten children together, only one of which they'd bothered to name.

"Well, we didn't get all dressed up for nothing," replied the dark haired man on the other side of Bors. His name was Tristan and he was a ranger. The most skilled tracker and archer of the group, he was the one each of them would fear if they crossed him. On escort missions, Tristan would often ride out alone to make sure the path was clear or the tracks they left were covered. This brought him face to face with scores of enemies which he often dispatched by himself. He had a taste for blood and enjoyed using his deadly talents for the good of the kingdom. He trusted Arthur to make the right decisions, and he was rarely disappointed.

"Dwarves," replied Dagonet, another mounted knight joining in the conversation, "why do they always have to bring feckin' dwarves?"

"Because they are tough fighters that are too small to strike accurately from horseback," Arthur replied. "When the snow comes, the landscape of Belois is not all that different from Sinfor. They use this season to strike at our people and take their lands. The dwarves need our wood and farms to support the people working their mines. These battles have gone on for ages, and now it is our turn to write a chapter."

"Poetic, Arthur," Galahad responded, "but what if we do not want our piece of history written in our own blood?" Galahad was the youngest of the group, barely eighteen. He had been conscripted after showing great promise with a sword and the last three years of training had not disappointed. He was as good with a sword and shield as anyone in Arthur's service, but he'd not embraced the violence of battle like the others. Of all the knights, Galahad had the best chance to return to a normal life once his service ended. Because of this, Arthur slightly favored his life over the others, it was worth saving.

"Everyone's got to die sometime," Dagonet chimed in again. "You just got to make sure when your time comes that you attract the gods' notice. Then they will favor you in the Great Beyond." Dagonet had not wanted to be anything but a soldier in the service of the king. He'd never married or made time for a woman, but he was close to Bors and his mate. He also fought in a mad rage like his beefy friend, but was more deadly with his axe than anyone Arthur had ever seen. Dagonet had the ability to be an inspirational leader and when Arthur left the front, he would likely succeed him at the Southern Army's captain.

"Your highness," said a voice from the ground. It was Aaroll, the man-at-arms of the infantry. "Everyone is prepared. The archers are ready to begin the air assault. We await your command." Aaroll's best trait was his dependability. He would follow an order to jump from the highest cliff and do it more efficiently than had ever been done. His service as a soldier was a waste of his high intellect. Arthur really liked the man and hoped to take him from the infantry when he finished his service. He believed the man had much more to offer than his sword and blood.

"Thank you, Aaroll," Arthur replied. "Wait for my signal."

From across the field, a contingent of four horsemen rode from the trees to the midpoint of the battlefield. They carried the white banner, the banner of truce. The captain of Sinfor was Drake Saizar, a classically trained, human soldier from Samreign. He'd learned the art of war from some of the best teachers on the continent. Arthur did not fear this man, but he respected him tremendously. To turn him to the side of Belois would be a great feat, both empowering his kingdom and weakening the other. He nodded to his knights and rode forward to meet the opposing leader. Bors, Galahad, and Dagonet followed; Tristan, Gwain, and Lancelot stayed behind and drew their bows.

"Keep your eyes sharp," Lancelot commanded the others, "I do not trust this captain." Lancelot was regarded as the most famous of the knights other than their captain, Prince Arthur. He battled with two identical swords and a dexterity seen mostly in rogues and acrobats. He rarely wore armor and was even more rarely injured in battle. People who saw him fight said that he had a second sight when it came to danger. He was a champion at many of Arthur's father's tournaments, besting soldiers and lords with twice his experience. Although he was taken at a young age to serve in the military, he found a comfortable loyalty to his captain and served Arthur without question. The two were close friends and he was already regretting the day when his captain would retire from the front and live in the palace, a place he was not allowed to follow.

Gwain was the last and most serious of the knights. Next to Lancelot, he was also the handsomest and most successful off the battlefield. He was also conscripted as a boy from a conquered land, the same one as Lancelot. Although they hailed from different villages, they acknowledged a common bond beyond their service to the prince. He was also close to Galahad, as the two were half-brothers from a different mother, but Galahad was cut from a different cloth. Gwain was also different from the others; he was "touched" by the gods. When someone fell in battle, it was often a word of comfort from Gwain that closed the wound and allowed him to live. He was also able to turn away the monstrous undead with his faith and holy symbol. He fashioned a special weapon that held an axe blade on one end and a mace on the other. Depending on his enemy, he would switch between the two with a deft flip of the weapon and strike the opponent down.

Arthur and his body guards arrived at the center of the battlefield. Captain Saizar faced him now.

"Your highness," Saizar said, recognizing his enemy once his helmet was removed. "'Tis a fine day for a battle, would you agree?"

"There is never a good day to spill blood, Captain," Arthur replied. "Do you have terms to present, or did you merely want to look into our eyes and test our resolve?"

"Soldiers of Belois need no test, they all have resolve," Saizar complimented, "what they lack is skill and experience."

"I'll show you my lack of experience!" Bors shouted at him, raising a fearsome battle axe, chipped with constant use, over his head.

"I know you, knight," Saizar replied calmly, "I do not mean to belittle the skills of your aides de camp. You know of what I speak, your highness. Your archers are decimated and your infantry is weary. This battle will cause you much attrition, if not total defeat."

"If you admit the chance of defeat, you must have your own problems, Drake," Arthur said. He addressed the captain commonly to establish a more peaceful tone and to relax the other leader. If this battle could be avoided, Arthur would do it.

"My problem is you, Artorious," Saizar replied. "I do not wish to kill the king's heir on the field of battle and earn the wrath of Duncan Belois."

"You'll never get within a hundred feet of him," promised Dagonet. "unless it is when you lose your life by his sword."

"Bravely put," acknowledged the captain, "but foolishly optimistic. My dwarves outnumber your rank two to one and their individual strength is already greater than any man in your infantry. Your horsemen may do some damage, but horses can be felled and then a man can be torn apart. Since I've crippled your archers, you don't have much choice as far as strategy. Artorious, this is a battle you cannot win."

Arthur knew he was telling the truth. He may have embellished the number of dwarven infantry, but even so they were as strong as one and a half men. They were also a much older race and likely had as many years battle experience as Arthur's troops had years of life. He could not win without losing nearly every man in his army, but he could not meet the captain's terms if they included giving up the battlefield.

"Speak your terms or prepare to fight," Arthur threatened. Although he knew he'd have to compromise, he was not going to enter the negotiation as the loser.

"My terms are this. Leave the field with your knights. I will spare your lives. Have your man-at-arms lead your army onto the field to battle. The outcome will be decided and in return for your withdrawal, I promise to spare the lives of the wounded when the battle has been decided."

"I will not leave my men to a fate that I'm not willing to share," Arthur stated. He was deadly serious.

"You will share their fate, it's that you will not on this day," Saizar promised. "I must show my king a positive result of this battle. I am not asking that you retreat your army, which would bring dishonor to you. Instead, let the battle play out, but save those closest to you and fight another day."

Bors and Dagonet looked at each other. They knew that a captain as skilled as Saizar would not offer such a favor again. They also knew that Arthur did not value his life over those of his men as he should. They sat in silence, wishing for one response, but expecting to be disappointed.

"You will have my answer when my army crosses the field," Arthur said sternly. "Good- bye to you, Sir Drake. May your passing be worthy of remembrance."

"Good-bye to you, your highness," he replied with a slight bow of his head, "May your father not lose his heir."

Riding hard back to the procession, Arthur's mind raced. He knew he should not lead the charge, as he would draw the vicious attack of the dwarves and lose the mercy of Saizar. His knights would want to fight in spite of the odds. Their skill would even the battlefield and if he removed his knights, all would be lost. When he arrived at his men, he dismounted and led his horse into the middle of his infantry. His knights followed suit and the ranks closed around him.

From across the field, Saizar watched closely. His aides de camp sat on horseback at his sides, a dwarven warrior named Brocko and a human fighter named Gerald. Brocko was already brandishing his axe. He would dismount and fight from the ground with his men. He'd trained nearly all of his fellow dwarves in the art of combat and had been fighting under the banner of Sinfor for almost fifty years. Gerald was the cousin of Saizar and was brought in like Drake as a mercenary commander. His loyalty was purchased, not earned. He also had years of experience in battle and was a capable horseman.

"What did you offer?" Brocko snarled.

"I told them if their captain left the field with their horsemen, that I would spare the lives of the wounded." Saizar replied.

"Too generous!" the dwarf snapped back. "We'll leave them to fight us another day?"

"Their horsemen are worth ten of your infantry, that nullifies our advantage," Gerald replied coolly. "Offering to spare their commander puts the numbers in our favor."

"Bah, my men can handle them," Brocko boasted. He dismounted and smacked his horse on its hindquarters. It galloped behind the procession and was corralled by several squires. "Prepare for war!"

There was movement within the Belois infantry. The horsemen were remounting their stallions and riding to the back of their ranks. He recognized Arthur's helm and Galahad's shield. After they cleared the line, they broke north in a gallop and away from the battlefield. Arthur had retreated. It was all over but the fighting. Saizar smiled. Behind the man-at-arms, the Belois infantry formed into a line and started across the field.

"Advance," Saizar commanded. "And leave none alive."

The dwarf infantry behind Brocko began to march. A hundred yards apart, both lines began to pick their pace. The humans lowered their spears and the dwarves lifted their shields. Like waves cruising toward each other, the crash was inevitable. When the two lines met, the sounds rang out in a crash of metal, the tearing of flesh, and the screams of the wounded. After the initial charge, the Beloisans unsheathed their close combat weapons. Each had a favorite, axes, maces, and long swords dotted the fighting. Most of the dwarves favored axes, but all carried shields, giving them an advantage.

The fighting raged for several minutes, with Saizar and Gerard watching from the trees with their archers in rank behind them. The line was stagnant, not moving in either army's favor, until a hole broke through the dwarven line. To the right of where Brocko fought with his main force, a contingent of men led by the man-at-arms had broken through and was now flanking the dwarves. They cut down several of the infantry before they could react. With the swift reduction in the number advantage, the middle of the Belois infantry surged forward against the dwarves and took several yards of field with them. Sensing panic in the infantry, Saizar spurred his horse forward and into battle. With only a half dozen men doing the damage, he and Gerard would destroy them and turn the tide themselves.

The thunder of hooves could be heard over the clash of weapons. On foot, Tristan turned to face the opposing captain.

"He comes!" the ranger shouted.

Prince Artorious flipped back the face shield on Aaroll's helmet. He slashed upward on his opponent, spilling his blood onto the ground. He spotted the pair of horses riding his way.

"Knights, form rank!" Arthur shouted. "They will not fight once he is defeated!"

Lancelot, Gwain, Bors, Tristan, Galahad, and Dagonet formed into a line behind him. Being on the outside, Lancelot and Dagonet continued to fend of the attacks from the infantry dwarves. They each brought their face guards down to hide their identity from their attacker. They stood in the face of the charge, brandishing their weapons. The horses rode at them at a full gallop. They were only a hundred feet away and closing fast.

"Tristan!" Arthur yelled. The ranger raised his bow and fired off two arrows nearly simultaneously. Once of the arrows caught Gerald in the weak spot of armor at his neck, lifting him off his horse and killing him before he hit the ground. The other arrow whizzed by Saizar, missing him my mere inches.

"Now!" Arthur yelled. Bors and Gwain charged forward on either side of the approaching animal. They ducked low, rolled forward, and slashed the beast across the chest. Saizar made an attempt to strike one of them, but his sword caught only cloth and not skin. The beast cried out and fell forward, throwing Saizar to the ground. Seeing his captain fall, Brocko stormed to the side of the battlefield where this occurred. He uttered a bloodcurdling yell as he ran to meet the knights.

Tristan used his bow to drop the two dwarves to Brocko's left and Bors and Gwain rose to attack the two on the right. Brocko charged Arthur, who drew his sword and tried to fend off the angry dwarf's blows. One landed against his arm, hurting him but not piercing his armor. Another landed against his leg, this time breaking the skin from the shear force of the blow. Dagonet and Lancelot charged the smaller warrior to allow Arthur to retreat, but he ducked under blows and fended them off and continued after Arthur.

"I'll have your head, sergeant!" he bellowed. An arrow dug deep into his ribs courtesy of Tristan, but he continued at Arthur unaffected.

"Destroy him, Brocko," commanded Saizar, still lying on the ground where he'd been thrown.

Arthur gathered himself for one last stand. The charging dwarf approached, raising his axe with both hands above his head. Lancelot slashed into his thick arm and Dagonet pierced his armor on the other side, but the possessed being kept coming. Arthur set his feet behind him and lunged forward with his sword. The dwarf cried out in pain as he was impaled on the weapon. It pierced his armor and chest and came through his back, cutting a clean hole in his cape. The shock of pain and anguish on his face froze as his axe dropped behind his head. Arthur released the grip on his sword and Brocko fell to Arthur's feet, dead.

"I'll have your head for that, fool!" screamed Saizar. Tristan stepped in front of him, brandishing his scimitar.

"You'll have to go through me first, Captain," he scowled.

Their swords crashed together in single combat while the rest of the knights battled more of the dwarven infantry. The whole of the battle was going in Belois favor, with more than half of the Sinfor infantry and two of their commanders dead. Bors, Lancelot, and Galahad battled two and three at a time while Gwain and Dagonet attended to Arthur. Gwain healed him enough to continue to fight while Bors retrieved Arthur's sword from the dead dwarf leader. Tristan was fighting the captain to a standstill, but he would not last much longer alone. With a primal scream, Bors ran to join his comrade.

"Let me show you the skill of a Belois Knight!" he screamed. His blow did not land, but if it had, the captain would have been cut clean in two. He returned a blow that glanced off Bor's bare shoulder, but the barbarian was far into a rage that wouldn't let him feel the cut until hours later.

"You are the fat knight, you didn't leave the field!" Saizar realized. "Of all the treachery!"

Saizar struck Tristan and pinned his weapon to the ground. He turned quickly and avoided another attack from Boors. He spun back to deliver a killing blow to the ranger when he felt a searing pain in his gut. He looked down to see the hilt of a sword hanging just above his belt with the blade buried in his stomach. His eyes lifted to see Lancelot holding a twin blade to the one in his gut in his left hand staring him down. He looked back to see the man-at arms fighting off another dwarf. The helmet had been knocked ot the ground, and Prince Artorious's face was clearly visable. Fighting off the dwarf solider, the rivals met eye to eye.

"You fooled me, prince," Saizar admitted, falling to his knees. The fighting began to fade as the dwarves now saw all of their commanders defeated. Their archers on the hill had already retreated when Gerald was killed and Saizar fell. "I took you for an educated man, a strategist."

"True," Arthur admitted removing his helmet to face his enemy, "I do not have a head for strategy. A strategist would have fled the field to return in force and re-enter the battle with the advantage. I do not look at the bigger picture of war. I love my men too much to ignore a single conflict or to sacrifice their life when I could give my own."

"Then let this be my final lesson to teach," he said. From under his cloak, he produced a small crossbow which he leveled at Arthur's unprotected face. "Your death achieves more than this battle could have won me otherwise!"

Before his weakened finger could pull the trigger, his hand fell from his wrist, crossbow and all. Dagonet stood over him, brandishing his newly bloodied axe in both hands. He wore a satisfied smile. As it hit the ground, the crossbow fired harmlessly into the earth.

"And let this be yours," Arthur said back. "The loyalty of my men is worth a hundred of your soldiers." He approached and stood very close to Saizar's face. "Take that to the Beyond and mull over it for eternity."

Arthur's words rung in Saizar's ears over the rush of blood and final sounds of battle. He fell to the ground, dead. The rest of the dwarven infantry, a third of what had charged the field, sounded a full retreat and fled into the woods. The Belois archers chased them away with their flaming arrows once they were safely disengaged from the infantry. Gwain began to tend to the wounded with Tristan while Lancelot and Bors supported Arthur, weakened from his wounds, but proud to have won the day.

"You're not going to live very long this way, Arthur," Bors promised. "You should have let Aaroll fight while you rode off with the other decoys."

"I could not live with myself if I had to hear of your death by another's account, Bors," Arthur responded. "I don't want to have to face your woman alone."

"Oh, I would very much like to deliver that news," Lancelot kidded. "I'm sure she would be in great need of my comfort."

Bors took a hand from Arthur's arm to smack Lancelot upside the head.

"That's my future wife, ya cock!" Bors shouted. "Besides, after another three or four little bastards, I don't see how I can avoid it!"

Tristan was limping over to them, harnessing his bow and sheathing his sword. He looked tired, but glad to have survived. Dagonet had just finished cutting the forefinger from Saizar's corpse, ring and all, and put it into a pouch on his belt.

"Souvenir," he said. The battle was over, and they were going home.

The Battle of Saizar would be the last one the knights would fight together under Arthur. With the leadership of Sinfor crippled, the attacks stopped for the winter and did not reoccur the next year. The following year, Arthur was recalled from the front to serve his father as Prince Regent of the kingdom. Arthur named Dagonet captain of the southern army and Gwain as his aide de camp. Lancelot continued to fight with the knights, but turned down his commission. Galahad completed his service and returned to his home in the northern plains. Tristan also fulfilled his oath, but still serves under Dagonet by this own terms. Bors retired, but still never married his woman, Vanora, because she turned down his proposal. They now have thirteen little bastards, and are proud of every one.

Each of the knights was paid handsomely for their service and protection of the prince. Even though they've gone separate ways, Arthur made them promise to meet once a year on the site of their last battle for a meal and celebration. He had a stronghold built on the site and called it Camelot. It is a stone house with a large, round central room with several other rooms branching from the center. In the middle room is a great table, round in shape with no head. They sit and eat and drink each year and swear loyalty to each other. Should they be needed again, Arthur needs only to call his Knights of the Round Table.

1991.05.01

The Rimule Adventures

You see your wife’s body. Being grazed on like grass under hungry cattle. Head being munched like a melon. The mindless shuffling of corpses moves over to you. The sound of chewing rings in your ears. You begin to feel it pulling, then tearing on your hands, your feet. You are frozen in fear. You feel the grinding of teeth on your throat. You try to scream but you begin to drown on your own blood from your mortal neck wound. You know that you will now become like your attackers. You will be revived into a mindless zombie, whose only reason for being is to kill more wives and daughters and sons!

You wake up in a sweat. You are in a non-descript room at a nameless inn. As you think back to that horrible night, you know that wasn’t how it happened. You didn’t receive that neck wound, you survived. The beasts never got to you because your sister arrived and turned away the attackers. But you thought you would die. You were sure of it. A week later, you wished you had. Months of depression would have been avoided if you’d just been turned and then destroyed by your siblings. You wouldn’t have been taunted by death, but then you wouldn’t have found your destiny to serve it either. Everything had to be stripped from you to find truth. To find purpose. And now you have your quest.

You get up from the bed and go over to a small wooden table to sit. You begin to write your thoughts in a journal. The nightmares were less frequent, but now they always ended wrong. You’d seen not just your wife, but your brother and sister and parents ravaged by hordes of undead, turned to lifeless killing freaks of nature. You’d witnessed your own death a hundred times. How? Was it sorcery that warped your memory? No, it was just fragments distorted by a still grieving brain. You wipe some mist from your eyes. You close them, but instead of seeing the haunting visions of your dreams, you see a city. A bustling city, filled with innocents. They are besieged. Arrows strike the guards on top of the tower. Monstrous forces of orcs, goblins and ogres fighting together for a common, destructive purpose. You hear the name whispered in your ears, the name that brought you across the sea and has driven you across a fortnight of tiring travel. Although your purse is getting light and your will is wavering, you cannot stop. You must reach it. “Rimule.”

When you finish writing, you feel a tingling at the back of your neck. Danger. Unrest. Others at the inn are awake and in fear. There is a soft padding of steps and a frantic pounding at your door. As you open the door, you see a slight figure in a white, cotton nightdress in front of you. She has large, nearly black eyes and straight black hair, as fine as silk. Her age couldn’t be more than 16.

“I saw you tonight. You own the horse in the stable. You had weapons…. Please help. There are orcs downstairs. They’ve attacked the inn. They came to rob the place and the innkeeper has been struck down by an axe. Please help!”

You check the hallway; there is no one to be found. Everyone hearing the scuffle is locked up tight in their rooms. You hear rummaging downstairs as the orcs look for the strong box. Peering over the rail, you spot them.

ORC ORC AC: 14 AC: 14 HP: 8 HP: 8 ATT: Greataxe +3 ATT: Greataxe +3 DMG: 1d12+3 DMG: 1d12+3 XP: 150 XP: 150 Treasure: 60 gp

After they are defeated, you find the innkeeper at the edge of life. He is at -2 HP. You can choose to try to revive him with a Lay on Hands spell if not used, or comfort him for his passage to the other side. If you save him, 100 XP, if you comfort him, 50 XP. With the action over, you return to your room. As you are tending to your wounds, you hear another soft knock at the door. You see the same slight figure as before.

“Thank you for saving us. I’m Tiara. My father calls me Tia. He sent me to you to thank you for saving him.”

Before you can respond, she pulls at the string on her gown and it falls to the floor. Her body is perfect, young and beautiful. She leans in to kiss you. You can tell she’s afraid and not there of her own accord.

If you refuse her, she begins to cry. She pulls her gown up under her arms.

“Why don’t you want me? Am I not pretty enough? You can see me with those eyes. You know that I am not untouched. I’m sorry that I am not worthy, but I am the only daughter of my father, the inn keep. We do not have much gold, especially not enough to repay your heroics. Please accept me as payment. We cannot be indebted to a wandering demi-god. I will try my hardest to please you…”

If you explain your origins and why you cannot accept her, she begins to change. You talk for most of the night, learning that for the last two years, the two forms of income for the inn was rent and the favors of Tia. The charge was nearly equivalent. You hear stories ranging from men who offered to buy her to men that beat her, though that only offered a brief respite from what she called her “womanly duties”.

If you offer to take her with you, the inn keep will not try to stop you, but you will be accosted by his business partners. Three men, each 1st level fighters. A Diplomacy check (DC 15) will get them to stop attacking. They say they want a month’s earnings before they will let you buy her for 300 gp. Another Diplomacy check (DC 25) will reduce that amount to half. That comes to 150 gp. If you pay it you earn 300 XP and they allow you to leave. If you refuse, they will attack.

MAN MAN MAN AC: 11 AC: 11 AC: 11 HP: 6 HP: 6 HP: 6 ATT: Hand Axe +1 ATT: Hand Axe +1 ATT: Dagger +1 DMG: 1d6 DMG: 1d6 DMG: 1d4 XP: 100 XP: 100 XP: 100 Treasure: 30 gp + what you paid them.

If you take Tia with you, you gain 100 xp.

You ride off with Tia behind you on your horse. She grabs tightly at you while you ride north towards Rimule. It would take you only a full day’s ride to make it to the boarder of Rimule and safety, but with her along for the ride, it will take 2. You know if you leave her nearby, he father will come looking for her. If you decide to take Tia to Rimule, it will earn you another 100 xp.

Overnight, you begin a conversation with Tia. She asks you about your wife and son. You weren’t much older than she was when you married, and your wife was the same age. They were not similar in appearance, but just being close to a woman makes you feel uneasy. Her curiosity is expected, and you can tell she is quite taken with you. You do like the fact that she looks into your eyes. Those eyes that make the guilty squirm, eyes that were described as lifeless by many onlookers on the ferry. They are a stark reminder that you are not purely a man, yet your wife, and now this girl, can see past that to the man that you are. Maybe this is part of healing your severed soul, developing human relationships again. You both drift off to sleep, her in your blankets and you with your head resting on your saddlebag several feet away.

In the night, you hear something. A rustling in the brush. A Spot check (DC5) sees a single wolf eyeing your companion, who is sleeping between the fire and the animal. You can move first and beat the wolf to Tia. She will awaken at the sound of the fighting.

WOLF AC: 14 HP: 13 ATT: Bite +3 DMG: 1d6 XP: 450 Treasure: none

When you wake, she is nestled next to you in the same nightdress she slipped off in your room just two days before. She will be stunning when she reaches adulthood, but for now the sheer beauty of her youth is almost overwhelming. You wake her and you both eat from your rations, and then begin your journey to Rimule. You make your way down a river through some thin woods. By midday, you make it through to a great clearing. Farms and grazing cattle dot the fields. In the middle of this clearing, you see it. Like a crown on the earth. The city of Rimule, named for the Baron of the land, Lejes. You ride to the gates and are received by a contingent of guards. They wear an insignia, the talon of a bird of prey, on badges that clasp red capes to their armor. The lead soldier approaches with his hand raised.

“What is your business in Rimule, adventurer?”

He is taller than the rest with a bald head and undistinguished brown eyes. His armor is finer than the rest with small rings of metal sewn to a leather shirt. His cape is navy blue with a red liner. You notice that the rest of the guards are uneasy. Their hands rest on the hilts of their swords. There are six well armed fighters, most young, but not inexperienced in the art of combat.

“You may visit and have free roam for as long as you like, stranger. Beware that aggression will be dealt with by the Talon guard. We are omnipresent in the marketplace and even where you cannot see us. I will escort you to one of our inns and see that you are given a room. Perhaps your woman would like to go straight to the marketplace for some nice new clothes? Or perhaps visit one of our baths?”

If you ask to talk to the Baron, you are informed that he is busy for an upcoming ceremony. He’s taken ill and the announcement is expected to be his son taking up the responsibility for the land. He will not see you.

The innkeeper’s name is Ham Gelding. He greets you with apprehension until he sees payment. He offers you a corner room so you and your woman can be more “rowdy” if you wish. Tia decides to rest while you scout the marketplace for work.

You come to a Help Wanted sign at a blacksmith’s storefront.

“G’day my friend. Just arrived, have ye? ‘Scuse me for a moment… Chuwie! What are ye doin’? That plate is supposed to fit around man. You’re makin’ it too flat! And too big! Who’s gonna be able to use that?”

You see a large beast-man push the tent flap out of the way. He’s holding a half pounded piece of platemail. He has many tribal scars on his face, neck, and bare arms. He also has metal rings piercing his ears and lips.

“What you mean? It fit men just fine. Men smaller no need to fight. They die quick.”

“Tha’s why they need to buy our armor, smarty. So they don die so quick.”

“It fit this guy,” he says, striding over to you and holding it to your chest. A big hand lands on your shoulder and spins you to face the other way. You feel him hold it against your back. You can tell it is too big too.

“Chuwie, jus do it my wey for once, o-right? Thank you. Your tha best. Ya know I luv ya big guy. Now, you needed a source o income? I get my shipments from tha river to tha east. Nah often, but sometimes it gets lifted. I need someone of talent to protect my investment. It’s all pre-paid o course. Tha’s why it’s my problem and nah theirs. Interested? I’ll need ya once a fortnight and I’ll give ya a discount on mah goods.”

Unfortunately, Unron’s offer won’t cover your expenses at the inn for very long, especially since you have another mouth to feed. Since the lord of the land won’t see you, you begin to search for a temple to ask for guidance. Kelemvor brought you here; he must have a plan for you to be here once the attack starts. You begin to wander and are drawn to a temple. The symbol on the door is of Heironeous. You enter and are greeted by a priest.

The man is about your age and has long blonde hair. His eyes are very blue and his gaze is easy. He meets your eyes and doesn’t quiver. You can feel an enormous faith from his soul.

“I am Dycannus. I am the master sword arm to this temple and the top apprentice to the cleric here. Are you looking for sanctuary, my friend?”

If you tell him about Tia, he will offer to take her in and shelter her so you can you’re your freedom. If you tell him you are a paladin or that you need a job, he will offer you to enter the service of the temple. It will not take much convincing of the head priest to offer you a post. They have many parishioners outside of the city walls that have trouble with roving gangs or creatures and they often need protection. In fact, there is a family of five that is beset by such bandits that Dycannus was leaving to take care of in the morning. Each venture pays 20 gp on top of your monthly salary of 60 gp to serve the temple. The 60 gp will cover your living expenses, the bonuses would go into your pockets. If you claim treasure for the temple, you will receive 10% of the take.

If you decide to leave Tia in the care of the priest, she is saddened that the two of you will be separated, but tries to understand that it is for the best. You can tell she still thinks it is because you are a god and she is a mortal. Dycannus informs you that there is a situation at a nearby farm that would benefit from your experience.

When you arrive, there is a man and woman with three small children living there. They tell you that they raise goats and sell them at the marketplace, but there is a small band of goblins that have been thinning their herd. They ask you for your help to destroy the beasts. You take 2 of the goats to the pasture and lock the rest away in the gates adjacent to the house. After dark, you untie them and let them wander around, bleating and grazing and attracting attention.

A DC 10 spot check will spot the scout goblin. He disappears and returns with 3 others.

REWARDS: 150 XP ea, 30 gp, a cache of arrows (20)

You return to the family, goats intact, and tell them this band of raiders should not be bothering them anymore. They thank you and hand a small purse to Dycannus. If you ask him what it is, he says that it costs an extra month’s tithe to recruit the temple sword arms. It is based on a portion of total wealth, so the poor can call on the temple as well as the wealthy. If one family has more needs in the same month, then there is no additional fee. Sometimes you cover the cost of the work, sometimes you don’t….

If you decided to keep Tia with you, she reports that she’s earned a job at the local tavern called the Swaying Swine. Her job is to serve drinks, and only drinks. She proudly models the outfit, and while it is close fitting, it does not exploit her. It helps you to know that the owner is a woman named Simone, but everyone calls her Raven.

The next three days pass and you spend time at the temple talking to Dycannus, but he is not very open with you. You can tell he wants to talk, but doesn’t feel it is appropriate. Something has hurt this young man in his past and he is not fully recovered. You can press it or leave it alone.

A week since you came to town, there is a city gathering at the house of the Baron. Lejes will be making his first appearance in over a month. You think to yourself that he must have a very strong presence or very loyal followers to be in such poor health and still maintain such an unshakable hold on the reigns of the land. Out of curiosity to see this ruler, you attend. Dycannus remains behind to tend to the temple. The head cleric, a priestess named Shandall, attends with you. Also unlike many other baronies, the temples are given no say in the running of the political side of the city. She holds nearly no power with Lejes.

You can tell he is sick. Mortally sick. He rests in his chair throughout the entire ceremony, which includes performers from the adjacent barony of Cairfawn. They are very agile elves, twisting and flipping at inhuman heights and speed. Then there is a test of strength by the knights of Samreign. Shandall explains that Samreign is the neighbor to the north and is the birthplace of the king, a benevolent paladin named Joral Samreign. His only son, Joral the 2nd, now sits in the throne of Samreign as baron.

After the knights battle to a victor, a life-sized Lanceboard match is set up in the front lawn of the baron’s mansion. The pieces on the black side are soldiers from Fangard, a land that is still under the same duke, but is more than a fortnight’s travel from Rimule. It is known as the warrior capital of the duchy of Northwind. The baron of Fangard is also a second generation ruler, his father formerly the baron, but now serving as the man- at-arms and next in line for the title of king.

In the place of the king’s piece is a woman. The crowd is abuzz with gossip. You can easily tell it is a woman, her armor is not flattering, but her face is soft and pretty with long, well cared for hair in a braid down her back. She nods to Lejes who can barely keep his mouth closed. This day is stretching beyond the limits of his stamina, but with so many guests and nobles visiting, he cannot excuse himself for his own celebration. You recognize the man at the king’s piece for the Rimule soldiers. He is the young leader who met you at the gates, still wearing his navy blue cape with a red lining and the Talon clasp. The other soldiers are all adorned in the guard uniforms, armor covered with a red, hooded cloak and helmets that obscure their face but for a T shaped hole in the front for vision.

The pieces are commanded by their kings until each is gone. Unlike a true lanceboard match, this one does not involve true combat, but a simpler system of rules. The Fangard commander directs her troops effortlessly while the Rimule commander takes longer to ponder his moves. After an hour of strategy, the Rimule side looks as if they will win, outnumbering their opponent in pieces 2 to 1. Then it happens. A pre-planned, stealthy series of moves brings the numbers to even, then to the advantage of Fangard. At last it is 4 pieces surrounding the Rimule king, signifying the end of the match.

The crowd is disappointed with the loss, but is also compelled to cheer the commander of the Fangard soldiers. The Rimule leader kneels before her and says that he is glad they are allies; he would hate to face such a strategist on a field of true battle. He is being gracious, you know that there is a major difference between strategy and the will of an opponent that will not lie down and die. Still, the tactical mind in that of a woman is strange and pleasing to you. She reminds you briefly of your sister, but before you can get homesick, the baron addresses the crowd.

“People of Rimule, I bring you these tests of skill and athleticism for your enjoyment, but also as a reminder that we are not alone. The lands and lords of Fangard, Samreign, and Cairfawn are treasured friends that we must remember to honor with our words and deeds against any who would threaten them.”

This receives an approving rah from the crowd. Shandall whispers to you that since Rimule is at the center of Northwind, that it is up to Fangard and Samreign to absorb the brunt of outside attacks. Rimule’s main duty is to fund these battles with weapons and supplies purchased from the mountain land of Dormack that borders Northwind to the south. Most of the Talon Guardsmen hail from these two soldier states.

“As you know, my time is limited. I am not well, and our healers have done the best they could. I stand before you as a man who has reached the end of his rope. I only regret that I will not have more time to be your shepherd, and that I will not have more time to see my son become a great baron.”

At this, the bald soldier with the blue cape walks to the baron’s side and puts his hand on Lejes’s right arm. He smiles easily at the old man with genuine love and affection. The resemblance is small. “Looks just like his mother” Shandall whispers to you. You heard it many times around you as many of the crowd, mostly the older matrons, whisper something similar. His features are soft, but his body is very masculine, muscled and tan.

“I have a gift for you father,” he says. He beckons to a soldier holding an item wrapped several times in a silk cloth. By the shape, it is some kind of sword. He places it in front of Lejes, point down. The baron puts a weak hand on the hilt while the boy pulls away the wrapping. The sword is a hand and a half sword. It is decorated with the Rimule name on the hand guard. The hilt is tightly wrapped leather over ivory. The base is a replica of a ball of fire as it comes from a dragon’s mouth. The old man hugs the blade with both arms, lifting it like a toddler to his breast. He smiles wide at his son who is in tears, and collapses back into his chair. Aides rush to him, but you feel his spirit fly over the crowd and escape to the afterworld. The baron is dead.

Shandall returns with you to the temple. You both fill in Dycannus in on the details and the dramatic timing of the baron’s death. “He probably held on until he could see the new family claymore, forged by his own bloodline for his future bloodline. How poetic.”

Another call for help comes in the next day while you are praying at home. Dycannus comes to you this time. “We need to go today. This time it is goblins that have no fear of the daylight. They’ve besieged a young farmer in his house and have eaten his horse. A neighbor saw his plight and came to us.”

The farm is close and you see the goblins. There are two standing facing the door of the house. Another two are sharing the haunch of the horse. Each is armed with a morning star. As you attack the first two, the other two will attack a round behind and two rounds behind an additional 2 will come from the other side of the house.

Rewards: 225 XP ea, 50 gp, a moonstone (50gp)

You walk inside to tell the young man that he is free. He thanks you. If you ask about the provocation of the attack, he tells you that he struck one of their tribe for acting threatening towards him and his horse on a ride back from the Swine two nights ago. He was drunk and didn’t even consider that the goblin might have a tribe. Now he is sure that he will be more careful about the fights he picks. He counts out a few coins and puts them in a purse for Dycannus to take back to the temple. You depart.

When you return, tired and beat up, from the inn, Ham has a message for you. It’s from the blacksmith, Unron. He says that they are to expect a shipment of ore from Dormack in the next day and he wants you and Chuwie to escort it to the city walls. If you accept, you and Chuwaragh leave early the next day to go to the dock and wait. Chuwie offers you some rations, but they are not what you’d consider food, so you decline. He asks you about your eyes and you can ask him about his scars. He says that his father was a powerful tribal leader and his mother was a half-orc that favored her human side in features. Truthfully, if not for the darker tint of his skin, Chuwie would be hard to distinguish from any other musty barbarian that might wander the forests looking for challenges.

It takes most of the day, but the boat finally arrives. It is a regularly scheduled ship, it comes upriver once every seven days, but it carries many different things from goods to passengers. Not wealthy passengers of course, they travel on ferries as you did. This is more for those who cannot afford better accommodations and those who do not want to be noticed coming into town. One such urchin catches your eye. At first it is her frail frame, but then by her round cheeks you know she is just sinewy and not starved. Her blue eyes catch yours for a second, and then dart away like a field mouse that has met the gaze of a cat. She hurries between you and Chuwie, brushing you both gently as she does. You don’t think of it at all as you follow Chuwie to the captain.

“Chuwie, I see you have a new mule!”

“Nah, I am more mule. He’s so I don’t have to drop the ore to fight unless we outnumbered.”

“How can he do that, he doesn’t even hold a sword?”

As you unwrap your cape to show him, you see that it is not there. How did you not notice the lighter load? You quickly scan the crowd for the little thief, but then you see where you were standing, your sword! Lying perfectly on top of it is Chuwie’s dagger. You walk over quickly to reclaim your items and hear laughter behind you. You look at the buckle and it is not broken, it was neatly severed. You smile, impressed with the skills you’ve witness, but afraid of what the guards will do if the rogue applies her craft in the marketplace.

Chuwie loads up a wheelbarrow with ore, enough for a half dozen weapons and a few pieces of armor, and heads off. He is explaining how he will pound out a plate mail with the larger piece, and then with the leftovers from the weapon pieces, he’ll make mail shirts. Strangely enough, you are walking along the path and come up to five bandits standing in the road. They are wearing black cloaks with an insignia on the breast. It is a silver crescent moon.

“You know the rules, orc man. We want half of that shipment in weapons and armor delivered to us in five days. Give us your word now or we’ll take the whole thing to our blacksmiths and let them do it.”

“You no take from us anymore, rogue.”

“You really think that the two of you can stand against us? Stand against our guild?”

“I don’t think it will be as easy as you think….”

Flanking the five of them is a man wearing a tattered brown cape and brandishing a quarterstaff. It is ornate like a walking stick, but you can tell it is made for battle.

“Now rethink this attack before you see what this beggar can do with his walking stick.”

Two of them accost the ranger and the other three charge you and Chuwie.

Rewards: 250 xp ea, 60 gp, two light crossbows, 40 bolts, a masterwork dagger

He sifts through the pockets of the bandits, finding two gold purses. He filters the coins through his fingers and tosses one of them to you. Before you can thank him, the beggar walks away. There are no additional altercations on the journey back, but when you arrive at Unron’s shop.

Upon hearing of the attack, he thanks you and offers to buy you both a drink. If you refuse the drink, he says that he’ll have yours and you need to come and watch him to make sure he doesn’t spill any.

You go to the tavern adjacent to your inn, the one Tia works if you kept her around, but if you didn’t you don’t see her. The new inhabitant at the inn now sitting alone, looking out the window. You realize that he is looking at nothing, that window faces the city wall and the night is pitch black. The man stares anyway. Leaning against the wall is the ornate quarterstaff. You figure out that he’s not dressed like a beggar; he’s dressed like a woodsman. You guess that he’s just another adventurer drawn to the money and opportunity of the marketplace, although such developed civilization is usually not where you find rangers in large numbers. If you decide to talk to him, he’s terse. If he finds out that you work for the temple of Heironeous, he will abruptly leave. Unron will buy you drinks until he can’t stand up anymore, then he’ll leave.

The next morning, the entire city is buzzing with new talk about Lejes’s sudden death. There is a rumor that the leader was poisoned. If you ask Dycannus or Shandall about this, they will disregard it as rumor since Lejes had been ill for months. They never came to the temple for help though. Word is they brought in healers from one of the other realms, but since Lejes took ill, the mansion had been closed off to visitors. Nothing was coming in or out. The only time his heir was seen, once a regular at the temple, only did a few turns in his role as captain of the Talon guard. If you tell them about your meeting with him, they tell you that was rare indeed. While you are sitting in the pews a runner comes in with a message. A retired knight, Sir Gordon, was accosted and his young wife was kidnapped. He didn’t see the attackers, but they left some tracks that he was unable to follow. He is wealthy from his days as a captain of the guard, so his extra tithe will be considerable. There was no message left for a ransom.

You know that the ranger is staying a the inn. If you recruit him he will not agree to help a follower of the War god. If you tell him you serve Kelemvor, he will agree to help, but for a share of the tithe. Because this one will be more than a hundred gold, Dycannus agrees. The journey to the knight’s house is long. Overnight, the three of you get into a discussion of faith. Dycannus is unrelenting, telling his story of the monastery and how the cleric saved him. How his unwavering devotion to Heironeous saved his life. Blackblade argues that his life would not have been in danger if not for the ridiculous beliefs the War god demands. You intervene before they come to blows, thinking that Dycannus might need his healing abilities to survive a scrap with the ranger. You finally settle into an uneasy sleep. Then your nightmare reoccurs and you wake suddenly. Blackblade is sitting up next to a restoked fire. Dycannus is sleeping.

“You’ve lost faith, haven’t you?”

“I can see it. Your eyes hide your humanity, but its there, aasimar. You are more man than diety. This fool will follow you and get you killed thinking that you are touched by his gods. Faith is dangerous. Obad-Hai understands that his followers need to look out for each other instead of his constant intervention. They say great things are accomplished in Heironeous’s name, I say he is no better than Gruumsh, the orc god.”

You talk through the night until sunrise. You travel the rest of the distance to the knight’s home and find him retired to his bedroom. His son is wearing the clothing of the Talon guard. His name is Yuson and he departed from the guard when the message was brought of his father’s plight. He offers to help you track down the kidnappers. He tells you that his mother died in childbirth and the woman missing was his young nursemaid. He is a 2nd level fighter. He wears a white-gold ring around his right forefinger.

Yuson Level: 3 AC: 15 (Chain shirt +4, Shield +1, Dex +0) HP: -10 ATT: Longsword + 5 (BAB +3, STR +1, Weapon Feat +1) DMG: 1d8 +1 ST: Fort +3, Ref +0, Will +0 INI: +0 Equipment: Chain shirt, small wooden shield, long sword, Ring of Regeneration. XP: 2,400

Blackblade is able to pick up the trail fairly easily (DC 10). Picking up the trail is worth 50 xp. He follows it farther away from town into the woods. Although you rode to the knight’s house, Blackblade will not be able to follow the trail on horseback. We have to leave them behind. It is a band of orcs or half-orcs, maybe 4 of them (DC 20 will determine the exact amount is 6… 100 xp). Maybe more. These orcs are trying to hide their numbers. While tracking them, you are set upon by a worg. It attacks Yuson flat footed.

Reward: 150 xp ea

The trail is somewhat screwed up due to the attack. A DC 10 search check will pick it up again. You continue on your way until Tarin stops you. There are others that have crossed this path. You smell death in the air. A wandering traveler has been killed here by bandits. Human bandits. Recently. You can split up to see if there were survivors, or you can continue on your mission.

Side quest: The bandits are wearing the same insignia as the ones that accosted you and Chuwie. They are sitting on a log rifling through saddlebags for goods. A small form is lying nearby with a large sack over the head and torso. It’s not moving. With their backs to you, it will take a contested listen / move silently check to sneak up on them. Tarin (4) vs. Bandits (0). If they spot him, everyone can rush in. 3 Bandits with the same stats as before.

Reward: 300 total XP, 100 gp, a masterwork dagger

The prisoner turns out to be a teenage girl. She has been beaten, but it looks as if you’ve saved her from worse. Dycannus will offer to take her back to the temple, although it will be three days before he can rejoin you. That will make it nearly a week since the knight’s wife was taken. If you don’t suggest it, someone will say they can leave her at the knight’s house while you proceed. Blackblade can leave a distinct enough trail for Dycannus to catch up.

You make it back to the original spot and a DC 10 check will pick up the trail. You continue on your way until you come to a stream. The footsteps are easier to follow in the mud of the brook. It is only up to the ankles. You can tell you are dealing with large creatures as their footsteps are sunk deep. If Blackblade failed his original check, he can re-try to discover the number of kidnappers (DC 15). Now if successful, 100 xp.

You have traveled for approximately five hours and the sun has set. You ask Yuson about when the attack happened. He says that the knight told him shortly after midnight. That means that the orcs would have to find shelter soon to avoid the sunrise. Tarin begins looking for rock formations for cover. They would have had to put her down and that will help us learn if she’s still alive. A spot check of 10 will find a outcropping for Valestis (+50 xp). Tarin searches the ground and finds where her body was laid. There are marks of movement (DC 10, 50 xp), she is still alive.

You can decide to continue or to rest. Yuson wants to rest. There is no telling if their home is close or far or if they are still running just two days ahead of you. If you rest, you post a guard. Nothing will happen in the night. In the early morning, you awake to that danger feeling at the back of your neck. You slowly open your eyes and see another worg. He is sniffing at your trail, probably smelling the orcs. He looks up at you and spots your awake. He growls low. No one else appears awake. Yuson was supposed to be on guard. If you move to grab your sword, you give the worg a chance to attack. If you stay still, a sharp crack to your left will distract the worg. That will give you a chance to grab your weapons and stand before he attacks. From directly behind the worg comes Dycannus.

Reward: 200 xp ea

You look around for Yuson, pissed that he almost let the party be killed. He’s nowhere to be found. Dycannus says that is no wonder, because when he went back to the knight’s house, there was no one there, except the knight, dead in his bedchamber. This kidnapping is some kind of trap, there is no one to pay a ransom. We can continue, the 3 of us, or we can turn back and report Yuson’s treachery. Either way, we know there will be no payment for Blackblade or ourselves. Tarin says he can track the “little bastard” faster than the orcs since he’s inept. He deduces with a forest full of worgs, the base cannot be far since he’s not capable enough to defend himself for more than a battle or two. If we decide to follow Yuson, Tarin picks up the trail easily.

It only takes until midday to find the end of the trail. It is a cave that has burned out torches set on its entrance. Obviously someone is inside. We know that we are safe outside as the orcs can’t fight effectively in the daylight. As you are deciding whether to charge the cave, you hear a woman’s scream from within the cave. Now we can’t set a trap. Dycannus rushes forward casting Light on his sword. It blazes like a torch. You come upon the orcs, 6 of them. They are temporarily blinded by the light spell (-1 to ATTK) allowing us to attack first.

REWARD: 300 xp ea, 3 great axes, 150 gp, 2 white pearls (100gp ea)

You continue after fighting the orcs to the source of the screams. You come upon Yuson raping the woman. He stops long enough to grab his sword. We can subdue him or strike him down. Subduing him earns the same xp (50 xp ea), but allows us to return him for trial which earns us 200 xp ea and a reward of 200 gp for the temple from the baron. Talking to the woman you find out that the boy was always jealous of his father’s young wife. She tried to treat him like a son, but he mistook that for love. He hired the beasts to take her, thinking that she would stay with him, but when she refused, he forced himself on her. You tell her that her husband is dead and Dycannus offers her asylum at the temple. She agrees. This earns us 200 xp ea for saving her and providing for her.

When you return to the temple, Katlyn is taken in by Shandall and cared for. Her physical wounds will heal quickly, but her emotional wounds could be mortal. Such betrayal and evil in ones own family is difficult to overcome.

You retire to the inn with Tarin. He again begins to talk about his past, revealing that he hails from another kingdom. A barony called Dragonwing in Dormack. He doesn’t say, but you can tell he’s not welcome to return. Dycannus joins you and offers him a similar post in the service of the temple. Tarin shakes his head at the man and pushes back from the table.

“Why don’t you finish my pint. If its not enough to quench your thirst, I am sure there are innocent soldiers waiting to give you their blood, Sword Arm.” He leaves.

“What a worg’s ass! All I did was offer him a noble living instead of skulking around in the woods eating bats and rats.”

If you brought him back for trial, the next day, you hear that Yuson was convicted by the baron and hung at dawn for murder and rape. The knight was without another beneficiary. His wealth was split evenly between the temple he worshiped and the city. The temple receives 10,000 gp. Shandall is overjoyed at the good fortune, but saddened at the circumstances that brought it. She rewards you and Dycannus with 1,000 gp each for your loyal service and noble actions. You decide to take it shopping at Unron’s shop. He is glad to see you and tells you that the “White Eyed Knight” is beginning to develop a reputation around town. Your discount applies for your friend as well. He gives you 20% off any purchase, even masterwork items that Chuwie will custom build for you.

When you return to the temple or inn, there is a segment of guards waiting on you. They request that you, and you alone, accompany them to the baron’s mansion. He’s requested a meeting with you.

Malagant Rimule is smaller than you are, but is still imposing. You would not enter a fight with him unless all other options had been exhausted. He is wearing a fine silk shirt and gold rings on his fingers, including the one you saw on Yuson. He smiles and welcomes you into a den area with a great fireplace and several bookshelves.

“This was my study. I’ve had quite a chance to work on it during my father’s illness. Not knowing when Kelemvor would take him, I spent many nights reading these tomes for company.”

He invites you to sit down and walks behind you, telling you some of the barony’s history including how the first settlers cleared the forest to build an encampment that eventually became this city.

“But you are probably not interested in this, adventurer. Let’s talk about your recent heroism. I am impressed what you and the cleric were able to deduce and accomplish with the kidnapping of Gordon’s young wife and the betrayal of his son. Did you know that Gordon was my father’s first captain of the guard? He was a great knight and a famous adventurer in his time.”

Before you can respond, you feel the tingle at your neck and the baron has pulled a dagger and whips it across your cheek. You stand up and draw your sword, blood beginning to seep from the superficial wound.

“Relax your sword paladin, I just wanted to see if I was dealing with a mortal or an immortal. I also wanted to reward you with this…”

He removes the white gold ring of Yuson’s. He takes your left hand and places it on your forefinger. It slides easily over your knuckle, then tightens to your skin. You feel the wound on your face mend with a slight tickle. You feel for a trace, but all you come away with is a smudge of blood.

“It’s a magic ring, one that Yuson didn’t know he had. He merely thought it was an heirloom. It’s yours paladin, for your unselfish service. Sorry about the melodrama, but bold statements are the most clear, don’t you think? If I haven’t offended you with my actions, won’t you stay for a meal and listen to an offer that I have for you? If you have any questions or observations about our great city, I will be glad to satisfy your curiosity.”

Valestis Accepted position for Malagant Moved into the mansion

1991.05.10

Rogue Rendezvous (RP)

ACT ONE – Malagant’s study, Malagant

Malagant Rimule, Baron of Rimule, is sitting at his desk in his study. You had finished breakfast a half hour ago and are reviewing some income and expenditure numbers. You know that you’re just killing time, waiting for your new employee and friend, the paladin Valestis, to bring his first list of candidates for his newly sanctioned squad. It’s only been a few months since his arrival in town, bearing warnings of an ill-fated vision of your beloved city. Already he has become a public figure, for good or ill. He is now known by most, if not all of your citizens. Certainly, the gods have blessed your reign by sending this man to you. He definitely makes a mighty ally and, as you have recently learned, a trusted friend and public figurehead for your dominion. His existence is a paradox, living life to serve death. You don’t really pretend to understand his faith, nor do you particularly care to. You leave that kind of thinking to philosophers and zealots. You push the fiscal papers away from you, partly in frustration, partly in anxiousness. Valestis should be here at any time. He and the lass that had accompanied him to town had been sharing a rather leisurely breakfast this morning, still chatting and eating as you had left. You secretly wished the paladin had been smitten by a member of a local merchant’s family, or one of the judges’ daughters, perhaps even a daughter of someone of importance outside the barony. His ties could easily bring more clout, more prestige, and perhaps even more wealth to your lands. Bah! That’s your father thinking! Let the man follow his heart. As long as it also leads his sword into the heart of the Crescent Moon guild, he can marry his ranger friend and you wouldn’t object to it.

You here voices at the door. A guard enters and Valestis is behind him. The aasimar has a stern look on his face, as usual, and is carrying a fistful of rolled parchments. He greets you formally. You know better than to interrupt him or protest the formality of his conversations with you regarding work. If you stopped him, he would start over again, and that would just take longer. His mouth stops moving and he hands you one sheet of the parchments in his hand. “Here is the first list of candidates for my new team, milord” the paladin says. There are only two names listed at the top of the page under the underlined heading of “Talon Guard”. Neither men are of the soldiers you expected the paladin to take from your guardsmen. One had been a tailor’s apprentice before entering into service and the other was known for his relative disdain for authority and his lack of motivation thus far in his three years of service. Before you can question the paladin’s decision, he answers your concerns. “Your Talon Guard are fine soldiers, baron. Some of the finest I have seen. They would gladly follow me to their death. However, they are better suited for open war than for the kind of actions that are needed for our immediate future. The two I have chosen, I did so for specific reasons. The former tailor’s apprentice will serve us well as we attempt to infiltrate the underworld. And as a trained soldier, he’ll be useful in more than one way. The second man, baron, you no doubt question the most. He has a tendency to backtalk superiors and he affects the morale of those soldiers around him. He responds to commands, but does so begrudgingly. He is the type of independent man I need. He will obey orders, but will also think for himself. He will learn the values of proper behavior for his comrades; I will assure you of that.”

You can tell that Valestis is done talking, because he looks not at you, but over your head, as he is still standing beside your chair. The other two names on the list are very familiar, but they fall under another category, the underlined word “Freelance”. These are the people you assumed that Valestis would want by his side as he battled evil. Sensing your train of though, the paladin gives you his reasoning for these choices as well. “Dycannus Bane, milord. His first allegiance lies with Heironeous. I could take him from the temple, but I could not take the temple from him. He will lend his aid whenever I ask it of him. He will follow his heart as well as my requests, and his sword will follow. Tarin Blackblade. He walks a different path, milord, but his path is no different from mine, save the way he walks it. His independent nature will prevent him from becoming an employee or servant of anyone. However, his heart is pure, if filled with a touch of bitterness. He will lend his skills as long as we are not too proud to ask him. And we do so after noon”. A joke? You look up to see the paladin smiling slightly. “Do my candidates meet with your approval, milord?” asks Valestis. [MALAGANT talks]

Valestis takes a seat and presents you with more news: from new eyes and ears on the street as well as information from recently rounded up thieves and ne’er-do-wells. Most of what he tells you, you already know: A few decades back, there were two primary thieves’ guilds in operation in the local baronies. The Crescent Moon Guild, of course, and the Tong Guild. Twelve years ago, the Tong Guild’s leadership had a falling out of sorts after the Crescent Moon assassinated its guild master. The two remaining lieutenants each went their separate ways, taking roughly half of the guilds members each. They are now named after their new founders, the Camona Tong and the Morag Tong. They are usually involved in petty criminal acts and trying to one up each other. “These guilds, milord, are the key to loosening the Crescent Moon’s hold on the city, and eventually bringing it to its knees, where I can remove its head”. He was serious again. Before you can inquire how he intends to do any of this, he places in front of you the last of his papers. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors of locks being picked, traps being disarmed, belts being cut off, and purses being lifted with nothing actually being taken. There is thief in our midst who isn’t stealing, but practicing, milord. I myself fell victim to this rogue the first week I was in town. My sword belt and consequently, my sword, lay on the ground where the thief had let them fall after cutting them from my waist. And I’ve seen her since, in the marketplace less than three weeks ago. Apparently, the Crescent Moon does not appreciate her actions. She was being tailed and when I caught up with her tracker, he was bludgeoned and unconscious. There is certainly no love lost between them. I cannot say if she is working for either of the Tong guilds, but it matters little. Do I have your permission to use your resource to find the rogue and offer her into your employ, milord”? [MALAGANT talks]

Valestis acknowledges either way the baron responds. If he was not given permission, he will inform the baron that he intends to pursue the rogue on his own. If the baron agrees, he smiles and thanks him, the smile of someone who had already begun to do what he just asked permission for. [MAL speaks if he wants] “Good, milord. Plans have already been undertaken to find her and, probably more effectively, let her know that we desire a meeting”.

ACT TWO – Tarin Blackblade

Tarin Blackblade. You have just finished your evening meal at the Swaggering Swine, flirting with Raven as usual. Your paladin ally finished his meal long before you did and has been chatting up his girl and other patrons since. He has stolen many glances in your direction while you eat, as if waiting for you to finish. [TARIN can either go to Val or proceed otherwise]. If he heads toward Val, proceed with conversation. If he heads elsewhere, Val catches up and asks for a moment of his time. Either way, proceed to conversation.

(Valestis)“Tarin, my friend. Have you a moment to spare? Good”. He herds you to a table in the back that was kept free of customers on purpose you suspect. He sits and gestures to the chair across from him. You hear a few plates and glasses crash and shatter on the floor. Tia curses and the crowd of patrons both laugh at and chide her. “Tip her well, boys!” Raven’s voice pierces briefly through the din. “She’ll be paying for those herself”. She adds, only half jokingly. You notice that your head turned to see the commotion, as did everyone else’s, save one pair of eyes. As you turn towards Valestis you suddenly realize that those items Tia broke were paid for by the paladin much earlier in the day. Your new ally has shown a new side of himself. It seems that the recent rumors surrounding the paladin’s more covert duties may well be true. All in all, you fine the aasimar’s attempts at being sneaky both amusing and oddly effective. He speaks quietly, but loud enough that you have no trouble hearing him over the now louder than normal clamor of the Swine. “As you may or may not know, the baron has granted me a special commission and charged me with forming a team of hand picked individuals to help in my quest to cripple the Crescent Moon.” He puts a hand up to keep you from interrupting him. “Now, I will not insult you by offering a commission form the barony, though I would gladly give you one should you ask. Instead I offer you this arrangement; when I require your talents, I’ll ask you for help. You will of course be paid and you are welcome to a share of any valuables acquired through your work. Your fee is negotiable, but you accept some compensation, woodsman. What you choose to do with it is up to you”. He gives you a knowing look. You’re not in this for the money and neither is he. You know full well that he donates a good portion of his salary to the local temples and the orphanage as well as spending a little too much coin on the barmaid. “Should you decide to head for greener pastures, I will not stand in your way. All I ask is that you let me know if are doing so. What say you, Ranger”? [TARIN speaks]

If Tarin accepts proposal, then continue with the dialogue. If not, Valestis implores him to reconsider, giving him the night to think it over (postponing the rogue rendezvous). If Tarin makes a counter-offer, Valestis should accept the ranger’s terms.

Rogue Rendezvous (Valestis): “Good, then I need your help tonight”. He passes to you a parchment, written in common. You have no idea where he was hiding that paper, nor do you want to know now that it’s in your hands. It names a time and place for a meeting between “a certain someone” and “a certain someone else” and then, “I will seek you out”. Midnight at an after hours establishment, the Vulgar Monkey Tavern. The message stipulates that the first “certain someone” be alone. “I need an extra pair of eyes and ears, friend. This is most likely a trap, but I must go in case it is not”, says the paladin. “I won’t be welcome at this place to begin with”, he adds. [TARIN can agree to go with him or not] – Tarin receives 100 XP if he accepts Val’s offer at any point.

Tarin can suggest a method for meeting at the tavern, but Val is convinced that Tarin should arrive there well before midnight and Val should arrive only when he is supposed to. The two will argue until Val convinces Tarin to do it this way. Tarin will be seated near the door. Close to midnight, he will hear the distinct sounds of a scuffle outside the tavern. Heads turn towards the noise, then back to their drinks. If he goes to investigate, then: SPOT check-DC 5 (50 XP), SEARCH check-DC 5 (50 XP). You see distinct tracks. Two people dragging a third. You can easily tell that Valestis was not one of the participants. His feet are larger than all of the tracks here, and no one had time to disguise them. Proceed to “Following the Trail”. If Tarin decides to stay in the tavern, Valestis shows up momentarily and beckons the ranger outside to the site of the scuffle. Valestis tells him that he saw two black cloaked figures drop another figure that he believes is his contact. He was close enough to see the action with no distortion (he can see in the dark). Proceed to “Following the Trail”.

Following the Trail Follow the rather obvious trail a block away. They stop at a grate that leads to the sewer. SPOT check for Tarin, DC 10 (50 XP); SEARCH Check for Tarin, DC 10 (50 XP). Success (both)=A trap has been disarmed on the grate. Do you descend? Valestis suggests to. You life the grate and hear squeaking and the distinct sounds of clawed feet against the stonework below. “Rats”, Valestis mutters halfway under his breath as he peers into the darkness below. “I hate rats”. [Does Tarin want to do anything here?] Val will cast light on his sword and descend first, finding no rats in the vicinity. When the two are ready, proceed. There is nothing obviously wrong with the sewer, other than the smell. SEARCH Check, Tarin, DC 10 to pick up the trail again in the sludge (50 XP). If he fails, Val suggests they continue onward, as there is no other way to go for now. You see a lot of rat footprints, but there are too many and they are too chaotic to make any sense of. You travel for at least ten minutes (either following the trail or continuing forward), when the sound of rats scurrying gets noticeably louder. SPOT Check for Tarin, DC 10 (50 XP). Success= You see a hole near the ceiling large enough for a halfling to crawl through, in it are red eyes and scratching claws. You quickly step back take pull Valestis with you. A pack of Dire Rats pours from the hole. They land in front of you, each around 3 ft. in length. You count a total of twelve in the area. Fortunately, only four of them can attack you now, until they have a chance to climb over one another. [BATTLE-12 DIRE RATS-page 56-(4 at first, increasing by four every round)—give XP awards].

After you step over the rat corpses, you begin venturing forth again. After a few steps, both you and Valestis stop dead in your tracks. You turn to him to tell him why you stopped, but his eyes tell you that he knows as well. You are not alone. Someone is watching you. “I don’t see anyone”, says the paladin. You decide to move on. You continue traveling for twice as long as you have been. The rat noises become louder. You both stop and look around. You notice another hole (50 XP again for Tarin, or if he didn’t see it the first time, Valestis will notice it). [RAT BATTLE PART 2, 12 DIRE RATS, same premise]. Valestis will Remove Disease and heal as needed. He has potions for both as well.

After the battle, you both have the distinct feeling that you are being watched again. You must continue onward. You travel further for another 100 yards or so and begin to see light ahead. You can hear voices, on female’s and at least 3 males’. As just get closer- Tarin can decide to investigate closer-(Tarin’s Hide and Move Silently checks are automatic, but 100 XP). You can’t get close enough to the room ahead to see into it without giving yourself completely away. You hear the female’s voice pleading for mercy from the men. They laugh and you hear her scream. [Decision time, do you charge, or do you get Val to come with you. Val will charge in after Tarin anyway.]

There are 4 people sitting in chairs watching the room’s sewer entrance. One is female. They are all wearing black cloaks and CM clasps. Upon seeing you, they laugh, but are cut short. If Valestis is with Tarin when he storms, then they laugh normally, otherwise, when cut short and say “Alone, the fool didn’t come alone”. “Did you except him to?” another voice questions. “Never mind!” one thief shouts and steps forward. “This one isn’t the one we’re after, but he’ll wet our whistle anyway”. Val will charge in then. Continue. If Val charged with him, start here. “Well, we expected that even you wouldn’t come alone. I’m glad we were prepared for such a scene”. He whistles. Two men drop from the ceiling behind you both. As the battle begins, a bolt flies from the ceiling, striking the female rogue in the chest she takes 8 dmg (down to 10 HP). As the rogues look about and begin to attack you, one of the men who dropped in behind you slumped to the ground. There is another shadowy figure in the room. The figure pulls a rapier from the crumpled form. You have no time to exchange greetings before the rogues are upon you. [ROGUE BATTLE]. Disperse XP (for 3).

After the battle, Edea introduces herself, saying that she is the rogue that the baron’s people have been looking for. Explain any questions that come up. Proceed out of the damn sewer. Valestis will kneel before each corpse and recite a prayer. Edea to Tarin: “Does he always do this”? Any other conversations on the way out of the sewer. They can all meet in the mansion or in the Swine (preferably the Swine). Tarin does not need to be there… 1991.05.15

…Well Mostly

Valestis Medeva walked a path through the bustling marketplace of Rimule. The rain had started about an hour ago, but no one seemed to care. They simply went about they’re business, haggling and browsing. They just did so a little wetter. Valestis still marveled at the size of the city’s commercial district. It was at least two times the size of Neverwinter’s, and Neverwinter was itself at least two times the size of the city of Rimule. Simply amazing. He walked this area at least once a day. It was good to see the people in their day to day activities. Unrun and Chewie liked to chat him up a bit too much at times, but they were good folks and he didn’t mind spending a few moments more with them.

He was wiping rainwater from his brow when the back of his neck tingled ever so slightly. His senses sharpened and he studied his surroundings and those around him more closely. This wasn’t a full danger sense; it was barely a sense at all. A normal man would just pass it off as the chills or something, but the aasimar knew himself better. Then, out of the corner of his left eye, he saw her. It was the same dark figure from the docks that had separated his sword belt from his waist. Instinctively, he grasped his sword. It was still there. She moved swiftly in and out of the crowd, never showing her face but for a mere flash once or twice. Valestis wondered why this person would draw the attention of his senses. He could sense no outright hostility or evil from her. She seemed a good enough person, even if her occupation was nefarious. After all, she hadn’t stolen his sword, just left it lying on the ground where he had been standing. His neck tingled again. He realized that the girl was not the reason for his alarm. Someone was following her. Valestis began making his way through the crowd. Fortunately, there were plenty of people who had begun to at least recognize him now, and when he strode with a purpose they parted in front of him and left a path in his wake.

He had seen the two hooded figures enter an alleyway. He quickened his pace. He concentrated on listening for some sign of struggle or confrontation. Nothing. He reached the alleyway, and in the low-lit area could see a figure lying on the ground. He rushed to the downed person. It was a man, a little older than Valestis, and he was wearing a black cloak with a crescent moon on the clasp. Valestis checked the man for wounds. He had but a bruise on his temple. He had been knocked out cold. On purpose. Valestis turned his attention to the alleyway. Nowhere did he see any signs that the girl in black had even been there. The man stirred. Upon seeing Valestis, he scrambled to the other end of the alleyway and disappeared into the crowd. Interesting, thought Valestis, interesting indeed.

The paladin made his way to the Swaggering Swine where he was greeted warmly, as always, by its proprietor Raven. He could tell that the woman found him very pleasing. She looked him right in the eye and said “You’re late, hon”. He hadn’t realized how long he had been out today and along with Raven’s announcement, his belly was letting him know that it was past time to eat. “Sorry, Raven” he said in his gentle, but firm voice. “I lost track of time”. She led him to his normal table. “The usual, dear?” she asked. He nodded. Ever since he tried their beef stew, he had not ordered anything else. He swore it was the recipe that his mother used. She did almost no cooking herself, having hired a bevy of servants for those tasks, but when Valestis had been ill or down, his mother had always made him a heaping bowl of her beef stew. He snapped out of his reverie when a tall glass of water was placed on the table in front of him.

He looked up to see Tia smiling at him, her new earrings hanging from her delicate lobes elegantly. “You’re all wet! You should go inside when it rains. You’ll catch your death!” She of course knew that Valestis was a paladin and could not catch anything. Tia reached out a slender hand and finger-combed his hair back into place when a commotion in the kitchen drew her attention. “I’ll bring your stew when it’s ready,” she said and smiled, drawing her hand slowly from Valestis’ head before turning to tend to her duties.

Valestis knew good and well that he viewed Tia differently than he had when he first brought her to Rimule. It seemed that she had aged or something. He watched her as she went about her work, admiring both her figure and her grace. No, she hasn’t aged at all in these few months, he thought. She was now independent. He had given her a new lease on life. Hope, he had given her hope. She wasn’t the girl who had been forced to throw herself at him that night at the inn any longer. She was her own person now. And that, he decided, was just as attractive as her lithe, but shapely figure. She was now heading towards him, his stew and another glass of water on her tray. Another glass, as he looked at his drink before him, because his was empty. He had drunk the entire glass while watching Tia work. Composing himself slightly before she reached the table, he smiled at her. She placed his bowl of stew and beverage on the table. Taking his empty glass, she inquired light-heartedly “Thirsty? Working too hard, are we?” She frowned slightly and attempted to fix his hair again with her fingers. “It’s not staying. Oh well”. She leaned in a little closer to his face. “Thank you again for the pearls, Valestis. They are beautiful. They make wonderful earrings, don’t you agree? Even Raven is envious!” She flipped her hair and held it back, exposing the left side of her face and her ear with the jewelry dangling from it. Leaning over in front of him, she presented him a close view of the earring. It was, he admitted, a beautiful item indeed. The soft white color of the pearl accented the girl’s skin perfectly. His gaze wandered from her ear, down the nape of her smooth neck, and into the bosom of the barmaid’s uniform that created just enough cleavage to attract a man’s attention and keep it there. The scent of her perfume filled his head with images of fields with blooming flowers spanning across the horizon for eternity. He opened his mouth to agree with Tia’s assessment of his gift, but his voice caught in his throat. Dry. His throat was bone dry. Tia straightened up slightly, letting her hair fall back around her head. “Well?” she asked. Valestis quickly drank a mouthful of water and was able to speak. “Uh, yes. Wonderful earring. Wonderful. I’m glad you like them. I…uh…that is… they…um…” He finally stopped trying to talk and just smiled sheepishly at the girl. She smiled back. “Speechless, huh? Well, wonders never cease I suppose.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, said thanks again, and wandered off to her duties.

What in the Nine Hells is the matter with me, thought the paladin. Dry mouthed, unable to articulate a thought into words. His heart pounded. His stomach flittered lightly. He caught the scent of the stew and began wolfing down his meal while he pondered his current state of being. He reflected on Tia’s past. He could sense within her a peace now that was not present when they had first met. She had been forced to grow up before her time, learning about the vices of the world and the evils of men the hard way, first hand. She had every right to be angry at the world for treating her in this way, but she either wasn’t or just didn’t show it. It occurred to him that she was too young to have already suffered so much, even though he knew that many suffered sooner and longer in the world. When I was her age, I was the happiest I have ever been. Then…then everything changed. His world had been destroyed and then rebuilt around him. When he had taken his vows, he did so partly because he knew that it was time for him to be of use. Kelemvor had given him a purpose. The Fair Judge had spared him. He had shown Valestis the temple where he could begin his life anew. He had shown him Rimule besieged and aflame. Has Kelemvor sent me here not to save the city, but rather myself? Have I been so obsessed with death and serving my lord these past few years that I have forgotten to live? Tears began to well up in the paladin’s eyes. He had failed to account for one of his faith’s chief tenets. In order to serve the lord of the dead, one must live! Even death itself is but a birth into a new life! Blind! I have been blind! Swallowing the last of his stew, he prayed a silent prayer. Thank you, my lord, for granting this insight to your humble servant. This truth will serve us both in the days ahead.

Settling himself, he saw Tia looking in his direction, a crease on her brow and a frown on her lips. His face now dry, he could feel the tears sliding down his face and realized her concern. Smiling widely, Valestis wiped the tears from his face and laughed. Tia relaxed visibly and continued waiting on her tables. Hope. It was granted to me and now I am responsible for doling it out. I cannot change the past, but I can…I will…I must affect the future. Valestis realized that he had already done so, at least for Tia, and it filled him with a warmth and peace that the heart of a paladin requires in order pump blood. Valestis knew that Tia was enjoying her new life. She earned her own keep, stayed in a nice room in a nice inn, and was treated with respect. She had made quick friends with the owner of the Swaggering Swine, Raven. And, of course, she enjoyed the attention of the men who fancied her and tipped her well. Valestis chuckled to himself. He realized that he, too, was one of those men. He wondered if there were other men giving the girl trinkets and what-not. His chest tightened, his stomach sank. Jealous! I am jealous! He relaxed when she came to take his empty bowl. He held his drink so she would leave it for him to finish. She wore a concerned expression as she asked if he was okay. He stared hard into her eyes, startling even her for a split second and smiled widely at her before speaking. “Yes, Tia, I am fine. In fact, I have only been better before I knew the world”. Tia raised an eyebrow at this comment. “From speechless to cryptic in one meal’s time, wonders will never cease”. The two exchanged a few more pleasantries and he paid for the meal and gave her his usual large tip, which, as usual, she attempted to refuse. She bid him good day and returned to her duties again.

Grabbing the silver tankard that held the last swallow of his water, he caught his reflection in its polished surface. Beads of water traveled down the length of the vessel, blurring the image slightly, but he could see the face of a young man. His glowing white eyes were obvious in the reflection, but the face was handsome and chiseled. The same blood that gave him his alabaster orbs had blessed him with an otherworldly attractiveness. He smiled again. He could tell by the way Tia always looked at him that she was definitely attracted to him, and in more than just a physical way. He had saved her from a miserable and unjust life and given her the opportunity to start over. While Valestis certainly did not feel that the girl owed him anything for his efforts other than to take advantage of her new life, he knew that the girl thought that she still owed him. He could still see the hurt in her eyes when he had refused her advances after defeating the orcs at her father’s inn and again when he suggested she seek sanctuary at the temple. He could also see the way her face lit up and her eyes exploded with joy when he gave her the pearls. She wasn’t accustomed to anyone thinking of her without thinking of themselves first. Of course, the paladin thought of others far more often than he thought of himself, but even he wasn’t accustomed to thinking of just one specific person so much, at least not since his life had been given a purpose. I hope no one is spending their hard earned money trying to win Tia’s affections, he thought. They’ll just be wasting both their money and their breath, for I shall win her heart. After all, mused the aasimar, I am but a man…well mostly. 1991.05.28 Despair and Redemption

The usual quiet of the forest was disrupted by the cracking of wood against bone.

“Take that, you black troll’s bitch!” Tarin yelled in disgust as he bashed another rogue. An unseen foe slid up behind him and buried a dagger into his shoulder. The ranger screamed and brought the full force of his quarterstaff onto the man’s ribs. They collapsed like twigs under a fallen log. The sound was sickening. Even small woodland creatures stopped in horror at the unnatural sound of cracking bone and splattering blood.

They were all down. Three rogues lay on the forest floor, bleeding and dying. Tarin removed the dagger from his shoulder blade. He knew the tip had cracked off and was lodged into something inside, but he was still filled with the rage from the fight, so he didn’t care. He flung the dagger into the dirt and spit on its late owner.

“Enjoy your date with Hextor you devils.” Tarin cursed. “This is one mistake you will not get to make twice.” He gathered the gold from their belts and resumed on his path through the forest.

“Death and despair, that is all loyalty brings. The world is full of mindless drones following insane marching orders for money or worst of all, idealism. Just because you steal, you must belong to a guild. Just because you fight, you must belong to an army. Just because you can heal, you must belong to a temple.” He ranted aloud to himself. He strode easily through the brambles and vines strewn across this seldom walked path. Tarin was making a pilgrimage towards his own temple, a clearing where there was a “shrine” to Obad-Hai. In the middle of a clearing, deep inside the thickest of the forest, there lay a shalm on a single tree stump. The stump was from a great oak and its absence allowed a single ray of sunlight to pierce the canopy of the forest. The remains of this tree were nowhere to be found. Tarin picked up the instrument and played a few notes. He sat on the stump and reflected on his time since leaving his home. The nature god made the winds fall silent and the sounds of animals fade away as silence enveloped the ranger and took him deep into himself.

He was filled with an image of his true father being struck by the third lance. The older man fell from his horse and landed hard on his back. Tarin heard himself cry out “Father!”, then saw himself as a boy run to the fallen knight’s side. His life flashed forward to the funeral. The baron was in attendance, but did not cry. His mother cried. He could see himself. He was crying. But the baron and the soldiers did not cry. They did not love him, as you do a brother. Weren’t they supposed to be “brothers-in-arms”?

“You bastards. You cold bastards!” the ranger screamed in to the dead forest. Eyes still closed, he continued on his inward journey.

His life flashed forward again, to more despair. He passed by the healing that had taken place. His mother showed unusual strength by asking permission to leave the halls of the castle for Tarin’s sake. The first part of their life in the outer lands was difficult, but a ranger helped them set up a hut and showed them how to survive. He flashed passed the love that grew between Gavin Blackblade and his mother. The happiness they all shared for years together. The days he spent with his step-father in the woods learning about Obad-Hai. No, Tarin’s meditation took him directly to the day he was not there and his life would turn upside down again.

He saw two worlds at the same time. He saw himself at the age of eighteen training with swords and shields, learning the martial ways of his birth father under the direction of the baron. “This will make you a better and more capable ranger,” he heard in the baron’s voice while he watched himself best other young soldiers. But on the other side of his vision, he saw Gavin fighting off giants with only his rudimentary magic and his quarterstaff. Others fought with him, stabbing with pitchforks and axes made for chopping wood, not tearing flesh. The fight was a massacre. Women were dead and desecrated. Men were dismembered and half devoured. Everything peaceful was destroyed.

Again Tarin’s mind flashed to the future. He saw himself skulking towards the giants’ caves. Tracking and searching for clues. He found them. He tracked them. He was filled with hope that he would save his friends and neighbors and family. But again, despair. Outside as a scarecrow was Gavin Blackblade. His stomach was opened and dried blood covered his legs and the ground below his unholy perch. His face still held the exhaustion of torture and pain of death. On the stump, Tarin’s eyes began to overflow with tears. His heart sank both in the world and in the dream. He couldn’t breath, drowning in his own self-pity.

Again his mind flashed forward to his last day as a ranger of Jinn. He walked the same path, back from the last home that he checked. He headed towards his own home. He had flashed past the birth of his godson, Gavin Jinn, heir to the throne of the barony. He flashed past his mother finding new hope and purpose as the boy’s nanny. He flashed past the months of duty and lives he’d saved from savage animal attacks. He flashed past the revenge that had been delivered by the sword of the baron himself on the murderous giants of the caves. No, his mind took him only to the day when he lost all hope, when he finally gave up on faith that a normal life could be his. It was the day he abandoned his sword and shield and cloak in the forest and walked away from his home forever.

Tarin’s eyes opened. The back of his shirt was warm and wet from blood. His meditation had taken only minutes in real time, but the ranger had relived a lifetime of fear, doubt, and anguish. He removed a potion given to him by one of his new allies in town and imbibed it. He felt the sting of bone mending and the itch of blood thickening. He moved his shoulder slightly, but the potion didn’t work fast enough. He yelped and went back to the previous position, although now the pain would just mock him from any way he held it. He held the small bottle in his hand.

“My ally,” he thought. He refused to call the paladin his friend. He could have no friends. To have a friend is to love someone. He was beyond that depth of feeling. There was no love in his heart. Although he sat on this stump and played the instrument of the nature god as Gavin had taught him, he did not feel a connection. He knew Obad- Hai was reaching out to him, but he would not reach back. The visions he saw were the demons of his own mind. He knew peace was just moments away. A change of heart was all it required.

“I’m sorry my lord,” Tarin spoke to the wilderness, “not today. I am your servant, but I am not a good one. I am not ready to release my pain. I may need the release of death before I can. Thank you for your silence, my lord. I will try again, I promise.”

With this, he laid down the shalm back on the stump and gathered up his quarterstaff. He saw the name engraved in the handle. “Blackblade”. His name. Not really. "McLeod". It was like a different life he’d lived before now. Those days were filled with the pageantry of squires and knights. And now, in Rimule, he was reliving those days again. Contests and tournaments. Fighting evil at the side of paladins and clerics. Doing the will of the God of Valor. No, the only will he abided was his own. He fought for those who were outmatched, but he did not do so for valor. He would rob Hextor of more lives. He would take from Heironeous the mindless minions who only followed their fathers, not their god. With this, he would earn his redemption. Then maybe Obad-Hai could speak to him and he would finally listen, and be at peace. Wiping the mud formed from dirt and tears away from his eyes, the ranger smiled.

“Redemption for me. Ha. That’ll be the day.” He turned to leave, letting his subconscious lead his feet as he had done since deserting his post in Jinn. He noticed he was retracing his steps back towards Rimule. He was headed back to his allies, back to his room at the inn, back to his meals at the Swine. Back towards his redemption.

1991.06.01

(RP) Tamizander’s story

You are hiding in the closet. You peer through the cracks of the wood and see the naked back of your blonde darling in the bed. You see just the top of her apple shaped bottom flowing seamlessly into the shape of her silky smooth back with delicate shoulders Her hair is falling down the front of her body over her breasts, so you can see the oval shape of her head sitting on a thin, almost frail neck. You can also see her ample breast protruding beyond what her ribs will conceal. It’s enough to make you burst into song for her, but you can’t. The reason her back is to you is because she is facing her husband, and he is a large man. If you’d known how large, you might not have seduced this lonely mistress. No, you probably would have anyway. She shifts up onto her knees and you can see the full heart-shape outline of her near perfect ass. You struggle to control your vocal chords.

“Where is he?!?! I know he’s here! There’s no other cause for you to be naked in the middle of the day except for that!” he bellowed. He must be at least 6‘6”. 300 pounds? By the gods, these women should carry pictures of their husbands instead of rings which tell you nothing of the danger you could be in.

“I was bathing and I fell asleep,” she stammered. Her squeaky voice brings you back to reality. This is why you only bed them. Ugh!

“Liar! Is he under the bed?” What an ass, you think. Hide under the bed? Not since you were fourteen and sleeping with your uncle’s favorite chambermaid.

“Is he out the window?” he yelled as he went to the window and looked around. With his head outside, you can’t refuse; you open the door to the closet. His ass is exposed and needs only a swift kick to send him outside. Your conquest sees you and lets the sheet drop. What breasts! What a stomach! Oh, you have to have her a fourth time! The distraction delays you too long and you pull the door closed as the man pulls his head back in through the window. You can’t believe how someone so dumb has made it this far in life. Make a move silently check DC 10. If unsuccessful, make a Hide check DC 10. 50 xp for either check.

“He’s in the closet!”

Oh shit, you think. It’s a good thing she wanted you to make love in your armor. Some kind of pirate / wench game she wanted to play. Well, you are going to need it now.

Angry Husband INI: -1 AC: 10 HP: 0 Attk: Fist +2 Dmg: 1d4+2 (S) ST: F +2, R +1, W: +1 XP: 100

If you defeat him, you climb out the window. If he defeats you, he throws you out.

You dust yourself off. “Well, he’s probably going to ruin business” you think to yourself. He will definitely stiff you on the rest of the weeks’ pay, but you already took it out of his personal funds. You smile, because you had a sense he was going to stiff you anyway. Just then you see her. She’s a vision. Hell, you think they are all visions, but this one is the exact opposite of what you just had (3 times since breakfast). Dark hair. Dark eyes. Maybe. OK, so you can’t see her eyes from here. Large, motherly breasts. A slightly pronounced, shapely ass. Her body is not as young and nubile as your last few encounters. She is a woman. You LOVE women. You think of the things that you will do to her. That she will do to you! The older ones tend to be sooo aggressive!

If you decide to go talk to her, you run to the side of the building where there is a water barrel. You check your reflection. Why is it that you always look better after a fight? As you were checking, the gods have kissed you on the lips. Another maiden has joined her. A smaller version of herself. This one’s eyes you can see, as dark as a doe’s and just as innocent. Same long black hair. She is shorter and has a petite body and breasts, just visible under the modest dress. A mother / daughter! You haven’t had that combo since you were tossed from the border of Dragonwing by those two brothers / sons who didn’t appreciate that present on Christmas morning. At least they threw your favorite lute at you. It is, of course, the one with the spare compartment holding your emergency platinum pieces. Those pieces bought you some fine clothes and another set of armor here in Negril, a chief city in the barony of Balmorra in the Northwind kingdom.

Your heart beats faster as you approach. They are headed for the city gates, probably to the stable just outside the walls. Money too, oh heaven just loves its artists. You do a quick check of your inventory. Lute, sword, armor, crossbow… damn it! You left two bottles of perfectly drinkable wine in the inn. Oh well, those should pay for the fact you are two weeks past due on the innkeeper. One of these days that bad habit is going to catch up with you. “Catch up” you think! They are about to enter a carriage!

You run up. The older woman is already inside settling in and the younger is waiting to be helped in by one of two burly guards. There are two extra spaces in the passenger compartment. If you talk them into a ride to Rimule, then the guard takes your weapons and puts them up on the top of the carriage. Charisma check DC 10 will convince the guards you aren’t dangerous. (50xp) Raven is suspicious of you regardless of the outcome, but Tia is curious.

“I’m Tiara. This is Raven. We’re going back home. We just came for a couple of days to see the world. Raven insists that there is more to this world than Rimule. She’s right, of course, but this city was nice too. Do you do much traveling?”

RIMULE! The marketplace. You’ve been scratching together money, and losing it on games of chance and girls, for months now. You thought you’d never get there at this rate. If you can talk your way into that carriage, you could get the girls and the free ride you need!

You have to convince Raven. CHA check DC 15. If you fail, then you get another chance combined with Tia for a DC 10. 100 xp for the 15, 50 xp for the 10.

You’re in. Whew. What a stroke of luck. Now, to work to make the ride a pleasant, i.e. naked, one. You remember the rule of a mother daughter ménage a trois. Let them mention they are related, and then feign ignorance like they were sisters. Melts them like wax under a high flame. You reach into your pack, aw damn it. Just the goblets. You remember that “payment”. You do notice that in Raven’s carry along bag there is the neck of a bottle sticking out. Could be she had the same intention? You look at her face, its pretty… pretty disapproving. Tiara on the other hand, is looking at you with hopeful eyes.

Tia - “So tell me your story. I used to love, uh, talking with the bards that used to visit my father’s inn. We don’t get as many in Rimule.”

The ride goes without a hitch for several hours of uninterrupted, flirty conversation until suddenly the horses stop. They whinny and snort and stomp at the ground. You look outside and see a troll in the way. Good thing there are two guards with you, dressed their funny red capes with even funnier red helmets. They are armed to the teeth, however. This is why you prefer to travel during the day….

“Well, you’ve been telling us how brave you are for the last several exhausting hours. Why are you still sitting here?”

TROLL 600 xp ea. Treasure: 100 gp, 2 red garnets (100gp), and a moss agate (10) You find the pouch with goodies as you burn the corpse. You don’t have to share.

Guards INI: +2 HP: 48 AC: 20 Attk: Longwords +9 Dmg: 1d8 +3

After the fight do an survival check DC 15. If you succeed (100 xp), you take some lamp oil and toss it onto the carcass. You then wrap a piece of cloth around the tip of a bolt, light it from one of the lamps, and fire it into the troll. The beast screams as it burns. The girls are horrified. They thought the guards had defeated it. Although the guards did most of the work, Tia hails you as her “hero”. Her undergarments are practically at the floor, if the little minx is even wearing any! You all get back underway and arrive at Rimule shortly after daybreak. In spite of your heroics, Tia slept snuggled into Raven’s breast instead of yours, or instead of you being there for that matter. It was just you, all alone, on your side of the carriage, and now the only thing left stiff on you is your neck.

As you exit the stage, you see a thriving city. It is twice as big as the one you just escaped, uhm, left.

“Well, you’re here now, darlin’. See that you don’t get yourself killed. C’mon girl, our vacation is over and done. Back to work.” You briefly hoped that “work” was the oldest profession. Tia looked back over her shoulder shouting thank you and waving.

“Do you have a place to stay? There is an inn next to the bar where we work.”

“Honey, I’m sure he’s just passin’ through,” Raven begins.

That Tia is as cute as a button. The marrying type. You think to yourself that you’d better let someone else take that plunge first. But it would be so sweet to add that to your long and distinguished list of memories. You smile large and wave back at her as mother gives you a disapproving eye and pulls daughter along. Funny, she doesn’t look old enough to have had the girl. Must’ve started young. That means she’s had a lifetime of practice. You begin to sweat thinking about this, and while watching her ass wiggle like two puppies playing under the precious girl’s new skirt as she walks away. Then she turns. She shakes loose of Raven’s grip and runs toward you. She begins to skip and squeal. Oh fuck it; you’ll marry her if you have to if she makes those sounds in bed. Look how excited she is to be with you! You open your arms and she runs right past. Standing ten feet behind you is the last thing you wanted to see, her tall, armored boyfriend.

Tia springs into Valestis’s arms and gives him a kiss on the nose. He’s funny about public displays of intense affection. He’d only begun to kiss her as deeply as he had wished during their last night together before the baron finished her new room at the mansion. Now and then, she’d come in before morning and lie with him, sharing kisses until the sun began to break the horizon, then sneaking off and pretending to act sleepy when the chambermaid called her to breakfast. She was a terrific actress. If only Rimule had a more popular theatre troupe.

Still holding her like a large toddler, one strong arm bracing her under her tiny butt, she squirms around to face Zander and says “Val, I want you to meet my new friend!”

“Yeah Val,” says Dycannus from behind him with the emphasis on Tia’s pet name for him. “Let’s meet the unexpected traveling companion.”

Raven has made it back the distance across the courtyard. “Well since you two are here, the guards don’t change for another couple a hours and the ranger won’t be awake until noon, there’s no reason to hurry back to work, is there? That’s all my best clients.” She just may BE in the oldest profession. Your attention switches to Raven.

She walks over to Valestis, looks at Tia still in his arms, and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “See, I brought her back safe and sound.”

Husband, you think? Her kiss was very non-sexual. No tongue (what’s the point?) Your attention shifts again. There could still be a chance with the young one. The other armored individual didn’t give you warm feelings however. Not to be outdone, Raven puts an arm around his strong shoulders and swings her legs up. Not missing a beat, Dycannus catches her and gives her a big kiss on her ample lips. “Oh honey, I’ve counted the hours since you’ve been gone!” he says in a lovelorn way, with her returning the dramatics by batting her eyelashes at him. Now you are dizzy. You don’t know who’s with who and you are feeling like the fifth wheel. “Civilized people shouldn’t act this way in front of someone they don’t know.” You think to yourself.

Introductions and role-play

If you mention you are a singer, Raven says that business has been slow since the “trouble”. They won’t elaborate. She offers to hear you sing tonight at the Swaggering Swine. She’ll pay you weekly to perform if the patrons don’t kill you tonight. If you get a job without pissing her off, 200 xp.

The innkeeper, Ham, demands that you pay up front. Shows you to your room. The doorway is thinner than the others, and there is no lock on it. Why, this is a storage closet with a cot in it! So what. He’s just jealous. You’ll just have to find other beds to spend your time in. His stare lets you know he assumed that in the first place.

You make it over to the market for the first time. There are minstrels sitting in circles and playing together. There are huts and tents for every item you could want to buy. You count the people as you pass buy. One hundred. There is a tailor with fine shirts blowing in the breeze. Two hundred. A jeweler with dozens of baubles sitting under glass cases. He also has a red guard next to him. Three hundred. You have gotten pretty good at estimating crowd sizes so you could multiply it by the cover charge for your concerts to be sure you got your share, but this was more people than you’d ever seen. There had to be four or five thousand merchants and shoppers. Just five gold from each one in a ruse or scheme… you’d be rich!

You see women worth wooing and ones that should be mooing. Men are dressed in fine clothing, probably visiting from other lands. There are others that are more gruff and talking to the armor smiths. Wandering adventurers looking for fame. Men dressed in black cloaks. On a hot day like this? They must be part of some organization, or mad (maybe both, you chuckle). Another store of musical instruments. There is a man playing a stringed instrument on a stool in front. He plays well. You peruse his inventory. He is a portly gentleman, not much to look at but a booming voice that must rattle rafters in a performance hall. You’d love to have him sing one of your more forlorn ballads.

“I’m Aday. My friends call me Meatloaf on account of I can’t get enough of the stuff. Ole Raven is about sick of me. I spend all my profits at her place. That and tippin’ that little honey of hers. Speaking of which, you want to buy something?”

Your thoughts reach back to the dark haired beauty and the girl. What is this, a crush? Oh, but they were fine specimens of the gentler sex. Now that you work for the barmaid, perhaps her gold will fall short and she will have to pay you in favors. You shiver. The thought of that is worth you not doing anything to get you fired! You spend an hour talking up Meatloaf and soaking up the sun. He could be a valuable contact if you should make this a more permanent stay. After you bid him goodbye, you walk the rest of the massive labyrinth, getting a mental picture of the alleys and layout of the market burned into your head. Never know when you may have to lose an angry pursuer. You notice more guards like the one by the jeweler walking the market. Same stupid red helmets as the ones you rode to town with. There’s one in blue. Well at least he has some originality, if no taste. You get to the complete opposite side and see an outdoor tavern. You sit down to a midday meal and the waitresses get into a scuffle over who is working your table. You were hoping the thin one would win, but as in most fights, it’s brawn that wins the day. Oh well, at least you’ll be able to flirt your way out of paying the fucking horse. They are the easiest to dupe.

After you eat (Bluff check DC 10 to get out of paying… 50 xp), you walk back out into the sunlight. It blinds you for a moment, causing you to trip and break your fall with a hand on the shoulder of a hard, and dirty, individual. He yells out in pain, whirling around and smacking your hand away. His face was in need of a shave days ago and his brown hair is tangled and sticking in the stubble. His face has a very serious grimace. You are bigger than he is, but you sense he’s all business. For such a tough guy though, he certainly is making a big deal of this.

“Watch your step pretty boy.” He scowls. He pushes a 6’ staff into your face. “This is a walking stick, not I.”

“What is the big deal, you ask?” He grabs your hand and puts it back where you placed it before. You can tell it’s the same place because there is still an imprint the size of your palm in the dust on his cloak. He releases your wrist and you see blood on your palm.

“A rogue’s blade. If you’ve never known the sting, be glad. It was healing, you jackass.”

“This better not happen again, musician. If I were you, I’d stay out of my way.” With this not so veiled threat, he leaves, not using his walking stick at all. A quarterstaff, you think. A ranger. They are only slightly more palatable than a barbarian. Usually stiff with their words, until you get them around a campfire and loosen their tongue with ale. Then they are wonderful inspirations. Probably why all the songs of their deeds seem so exaggerated. This is the first time meeting one, and you are not impressed.

You again lose yourself in the market, only to find your way again. You chat up some seamstresses until you see the sun begin to set. If you are going to bed the boss, it’s best not to be late for your first performance. Making your excuses, you invite them to your show. You head off toward your new place of employment.

You walk in and the Swaggering Swine (the best name for a tavern you’ve ever heard) is full. The town really seems to prefer this place to any others. You see your little sweetie in a tight, little barmaid outfit and you decide that making eye contact with her during your songs should make this easy. One more look around the room…. No Valestis. Sweet. For every hour he’s off playing hero is another hour you have to woo his woman. So predictable.

Make Perform checks. Each successful one earns you 50 xp and 10 gp in tips. You can make up to three.

During your third song, the first two were too slow for the now tipsy crowd so you’ve decided to stop wooing and start earning your keep, you notice a problem brewing. The ranger you ran into earlier is here, sitting with a dark haired, skinny girl. And you thought most rangers only made love to wolves. They are sitting in a corner, ignoring your performance, and there are six men across the room pointing at them and whispering. They are in their black cloaks, the local thieves’ guild you learned from Tia. Since you are in the middle of a rousing tale of a bartender and his love for a woman named Sally, you can’t hear their words, but you know it is not good.

Two of them unsheathe daggers and step away from the rest. They are wearing studded leather armor. The other four drop their black cloaks and start across the room towards the pair.

If you warn them, they kick out the table and stand with their backs against the wall. The backstab attempt is foiled and the others rush in. It’s two on six. You can join in or sing a song of inspiration. After the first round, Dycannus will come in and join the fray. If one of the players is downed, Valestis will arrive, hearing the commotion. You are without your weapons, but you have your lute.

Crescent Moon Foot soldier (3rd level rogues, leaders are 4th) INI: +3, +7 AC: 15 (Leather Armor, DEX+3) HP: 10 Attk: Rapier +3 (4) or Masterwork Daggers +4 (2) Dmg: Rapier 1d6-1, or Dagger 1d4 Feats: Expertise, leaders have improved initiative XP: CR 9: 1,800 ea (7,200 total, 1,500 if Valestis had to step in) Treasure: 200 pp each (value = 1,000 gold) 2 emeralds on the leaders (1000gp each) 2 masterwork daggers, studded leather armor 1 potion of invisibility

You pick up a dagger and sheath it in your own belt.

“Well thanks be to you chasin’ away all my damn customers! What’s with these jerks?!” Raven screams. “And is it my imagination, or were you fighting in rhythm with that bard’s music?”

“I didn’t see him step in and throw any punches.” Tarin scowled.

“Oh he’s talented and brave.” Tia says. She trots over and kisses Zander on the cheek. “Thank you for helping them.”

You feel like this would be the perfect time to sweep her delicate form into your arms and weaken her knees with a deep, romantic kiss, one you’ve been perfecting for the better part of the last five years. Before you do, you look up at who’s entered the tavern. Oh boy, it’s Val. Plus two other men. Let’s evaluate: Ranger… big stick. Paladin… big sword. Cleric, bigger sword. Soldiers to hold you down. Rogue… could bury your body so it’s never found. You decide against the bold gesture and let Tia swoon on her own for now.

Then you take a second look. The rogue. Nice blue eyes and short hair. She means business. She meets your gaze for a moment, then darts her eyes away. The ranger moved over to talk to the paladin. (Sense Motive DC10… 50xp) You get the feeling she’s not there with him, she just sat down with him. Maybe they just have crossed paths before.

“I say, well done bard.” Says a new person striding in through the door with a few guards keeping to his heels. A well muscled bald man with another large sword. You slide your hand to the hilt of your rapier and the guards each draw their swords. “Easy guards. There will be no need for that. I think this one is on our side. Besides, you have me covered, don’t you Valestis?” How did you not notice that the paladin’s conversation was over and he was standing over your left shoulder? Damned libido clouding your senses again.

“So, bard. Have you come to pick pockets in my market and charm our women, or have you come to earn an honest wage?”

“Valestis, perhaps we can use an outsider to make some headway on our little team. Your thief recruit can’t do it all on her own. Tell me, bard, ever spent time in a thieves’ guild?”

Bluff him to say yes and earn a place on the team. DC 15. That or just join. 100 XP. 1991.08.12 Changing Fortunes

Edea smiled. It seemed that finally, her goddess had smiled upon her, granting Edea at least some reprieve from the hardship she’d known for as long as she could remember. How quickly one’s alliances can change, she thought. Last week she had been cursing the paladin and his cohorts for pissing off the Crescent Moon guild and making her life more difficult. Today, she shared yet another meal with them. She had eaten well recently. The paladin Valestis had thus far refused to let her pay for any of her meals, and she was taking full advantage of it. She had only performed a couple of operations to this point, mere inquiries and scouting, and so had only her new meager salary to live on. Valestis had promised her a raise once he was sure that she would work with the team. Yet another reminder that if he decided she wasn’t up to the task, or if she betrayed them, she would be sent to the prisons. And for a thief, that meant the gallows. Even so, she had a reasonable amount of free reign for now, though she could tell that paladin watched her every move. Others watched her as well, wondering if the good-hearted thief could actually be trusted. Dycannus, the Swordarm of Heironeous always eyed her with a mixture of friendship and skepticism. Hmph. Circumstances are the only difference between our lives, cleric, she thought. Had I not been orphaned, I too might have found solace behind the doors of the temple…she glanced toward the paladin, or behind my own self-righteousness. She felt herself getting angry at the card fate had dealt her. She fingered the coin around her neck. Still, though, at least I haven’t been encased in metal and sent to the front lines to die in some fool’s war or at the hands of goblins or orcs or some other filthy beast.

The other occupant at the table finished his meal, and with the meeting having been over before the food was served, pushed his chair away and rose. “Until I am needed, then. Val…” he smiled slightly and nodded at the paladin, “…Swordarm…” his face turning hard as he focused on Dycannus. Tarin then turned to the rogue. “Little one”, he said. With that, the ranger turned and left. She wanted to jump up and shout at the man, I’m not so little! I can take care of myself! , which was exactly why the ranger said it. It was his simple way of reminding her not to listen too intently to the men seated across from her and not to lean on them if she didn’t have to. She definitely felt a kindred spirit in the ranger. Something had made him shun the city walls and walk his own path, away from their laws and traditions. She wanted to run after the man and spend the day with him instead of the two preachers she was left with. They would no doubt try to persuade her to devote her life to a more meaningful deity. Something in which the ranger moved suggested that he was headed, not to his room, but out for a while. He did that quite a bit, stealing away to his retreat in the wilderness somewhere. She had no love of the outdoors, preferring the streets and the commotion of civilization to the quiet solitude of nature. Otherwise, she thought, I would follow him out there anyway. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the man, but she also had trouble envisioning them together.

The cleric was talking to them about Heironeous this and the temple that. Even the paladin wasn’t listening intently. Dycannus stopped his sermon, noticing that no one was really paying attention. “Valestis, you weren’t paying a bit of attention to me.” Knowing that whatever was troubling the paladin wasn’t more important than the virtues of Heironeous, but was most likely more pressing, he questioned, “What’s on your mind?” The paladin just shook his head, “Nothing friend”. He smiled at Dycannus and continued gazing into the distance. “Oh, blast man! She’ll be fine! You sent an escort with her. Not to mention she’s got Raven to look after her. Aaaahhh! Now Edea understood why the man had been unusually quiet today. His pretty little barmaid had gone on vacation that morning. She had left with her employer and a few guards shortly after breakfast. It was also the reason that the group did not adjourn to the Swine after their meeting, but stayed in the mansion to eat. She focused her gaze on the paladin. He was truly different without her in town. Aaaawwww, how sweet. Sweet! What the hell is wrong me? They make me sick. The way they eyed each other just wants to make me puke. Thank Tymora they don’t use names like Shmoopsie-poo or snuggly bear or woogums or some other lovey-dovey sappy couple crap. Crap. She realized that she was actually jealous of the two. She had never had time for a boyfriend, nor did she really want one too much. It would have been nice, though, she thought, to have someone to share the thrills and pains of a thief’s life with. She thought about one of the boys she had known a few years back. Had their lives been different, she thought that she could have settled down with him and led a normal life. Then, he dumped her for some rich girl he met when he stole her purse, which he had given to Edea. The little bastard even took that bitch’s purse back!

Dycannus looked around the table, and seeing the somewhat forlorn faces of his comrades, began narrating a parable based on the actions of a priest in the service of Heironeous. The priest was having a difficult time relating lessons onto a particular member of the upcoming clergy. The youth constantly questioned the wisdom of the lessons, but never asked the same question twice. After weeks of this behavior, the old priest grew extremely weary of the young man. He thought of little else save the lad’s question. He spent so much time worrying over the boy and his questions that his teachings suffered. His words were chosen in ways, not to enlighten the listener, but to provoke fewer inquiries. His students suffered, failing parts of their trials because they had not heard the lessons as they were meant to be heard, and thus could not interpret their lessons correctly. The youth who had asked all the questions was the only one who passed the test. He praised his teacher for allowing him to question the teachings until he understood them, not knowing that his teacher’s negative focus on him had cost the other students. Dycannus rose to his feet, signifying that his story was over. “Worry not, Valestis. You did your part by sending the guards. Now worry about what you have some control over. There are others that need your attention as well”. With those words, the cleric headed to the door.

Hunh. Edea looked at the burly cleric in a different light. Perhaps she had been too quick to dismiss his religious ramblings as that of a man trying to convince himself he was right rather than a man who truly believed that he was helping others by spreading the word of his god. Big, burly, muscled. He was a bit rugged looking as well. So different from the boys she had known in her life, all small-framed, dishonest, mouse-faced weasels. She would have to pay more attention to the cleric from now on. The paladin had also taken the man’s words to heart and was now smiling as he left the table. “No missions today, Edea”, he said, “but there will be tomorrow. Get some rest.” Then she was alone. Alone to ponder her new found allies and possibly her new life. 1991.06.14 Revenge Week (RP)

You are in the war room of Malagant’s mansion. He had one of his studies converted to a private meeting place for his “special forces”. It was fully equipped with equipment lockers for the non-resident fighters, some sparring pads, and minutely detailed maps of all the known parts of Rimule tacked up on two of the four walls. He also had a separate entrance created with a dedicated guard so the team could come and go as they like without needing access to the rest of the residence. There were also cots for when the strategy sessions, or celebration sessions, went too long into the night.

Right now you are here alone. Malagant is out of the city on business of the state, he is making an official appearance at the Baron of Cairfawn’s birthday party. He has taken a contingent of Talon guardsmen to try his hand at the Lance boards again. Hopefully it goes better than some months ago when he was defeated by the young officer Sivora Landrin. Dycannus is at the temple visiting with Shandall as he does every morning that there is not something more pressing. You are reviewing some details on your last excursion, studying each member’s performance for improvement when there is a knock at the door. You answer to see Drake the guard with a concerned expression.

“Sir Valestis” (although you are not a knight, people still insist on addressing you as such) “I think you should come with me. There is trouble at the Swaggering Swine. A passer- by saw someone turning over tables and yelling at Raven.”

You follow him on foot to the bar. There is no one coming in and out. Peering through a window, you see that there has been some destruction going on.

As you go inside there is no sign of Raven or Tia. Tia is not supposed to work until tonight, so you don’t fear for her safety. Raven, however, lives just above the Swine and is always around. Sometimes you wonder if she is part elf, needing just 4 hours of meditation instead of 8 hours of sleep.

If you call out to her, a man enters from the kitchen. He has a scar down his right cheek. His hair is jet black and falls to just over his eyes. He wears the crescent moon badge, but his is not silver, it is gold. He must be some kind of officer. If you go on a search, you find the burglar finishing up emptying the lock box into a large sack.

“Ah, good. The police have arrived. Too bad your baron took all of your reinforcements with him to Cairfawn. You are the aasimar, aren’t you? The one who has been giving our foot soldiers so much trouble. Well you’ve saved me some time. It’s payback week and you were next on my list.”

If you want to persuade him away from a fight, it is not possible, he’s been paid to teach you a lesson.

Rogue Ranger 2 / Rogue 8 INI: +7 AC: 18 (Base = 10, Dex = 3, Leather Armor +2 = 4, Ring of Protection +1 = 1) HP: 58 ATT: Masterwork Long Sword +8 / +3; Masterwork Short Sword +8 DMG: 1d8 +2 / 1d8 +2 / 1d6 + 2; Sneak Attack +4d6 ST: Fort +4, Ref = +9, Will= +2

STR 14, DEX 16, CON 14, INT 16, WIS 10, CHA 16

Feats: Improved Initiative, Weapon Focus: Long Sword, Weapon Focus: Short Sword, Two Weapon Fighting, Expertise, Dodge, Evasion, Uncanny Dodge (Dex to AC and can’t be flanked)

After he defeats you, he bends down over your body. He takes a piece of cloth from your sleeve and wipes the blood from his smaller blade and sheaths it.

“I bet you’re wondering what happens now, eh paladin? What did I do to the bar wench before you got here. What will I do now that there is no more help coming? What will I do to the lovely lass with those pretty pearl earrings? Well, that is strictly up to me now, isn’t it? Tell Kelemvor I said to add another one to my list.”

You feel a sharp pain under your ribs, and then pass out. You dream of death, seeing a bright light and then your wife and son. He has grown to be a man in the afterlife, dressed in blindingly sterling armor. He is a paladin, taking on the family line. Your wife is beautiful. Her long black hair, those dark eyes, her pearl earrings… that is not your wife. She had lighter features. That is Tiara all grown up. She smiles at you and embraces you. You feel her wet tears on your face, and then you wake.

You open your eyes suddenly. You are in Raven’s bed in the apartment atop the inn. Tia is over you, touching your face and crying very hard. Her eyes are very red and her cheeks look as if a river has passed over them. In the doorway is Raven, her nose has a ring of dried blood on the inside and her face is badly bruised. She is also smiling at you, but has to cover her face and leave the room quickly. Then you see the answer to the question, “why aren’t I dead.” You see Dycannus.

“We though we lost you, pal.” He says, choking up. “Must have been a hell of a mob to take you down. Raven only saw their leader. He knocked her around pretty hard asking questions about you. She didn’t tell him anything, but he already seemed to know it all. She managed to keep her virtue. Just as he was getting around to it, he was distracted by something. I guess that something was you.” (Add 200 xp for saving Raven; Dycannus gets 200 xp for saving you)

“After you went inside, Drake came to get me. We got here after the fight was over. Whoever they were, they decided to flee before we could get here. I suppose that was a good thing too, or else we all might be laid up in this bed. Drake thought you were dead, but when I cast everything I had at you, you began to sputter. I don’t think you had too much more time.”

You look over at your hand and notice the white gold ring that Malagant gave you is still on your forefinger. You wonder if the rogue tried to take it. No, he must have just left you for dead. You know that is probably what kept you alive long enough for Dycannus to find you. The temple is all the way across town and it would have taken Drake at least 20 minutes to make it back with help. The fight was over in seconds.

After you tell your story, Drake tells you that his power was enough to stabilize you, but you need to stay in bed for another day. Raven is back and she tells you that you are not to move and she is going to bring you something to eat right away. Before she leaves, she crossed the floor and kisses you on the forehead. “You saved my life, darlin’.” Then she begins to tear up again and leaves. Tia is holding your hand under the blanket and refuses to leave your side. Dycannus says he is going to call the guard over to post a watch outside for everyone’s sake, and then ask Shandall to come by and see if there is anything more she can do to make you comfortable.

You awake the later in the night and see Tia asleep on the same chair she sat in until you fell asleep. Her little ass must be breaking. Raven at least put a blanket over her. You think of getting up to help her into bed with you, but you lack the strength to make it that far. The wounds must have been graver than you thought. You struggle your way up and feel a rush to your head. It passes and you feel some strength coming back. You get your feet on the floor and scoop up the girl. She feels like a feather. You settle her into bed. She still has small trails from the salty tears she cried for you. You slide her over and lie down next to her. She immediately moves toward your body heat. You put an arm under her head and drift off.

When you wake, Tia is gone. The blanket she was using is neatly folded and some of your clothes lay on top of it. You get dressed and go downstairs. It is the early afternoon. You know this because your ranger friend is sitting down having his breakfast of ham and eggs. He looks up at you and grins.

“I seem to be rubbing off on you in some good ways.” He says. “Heard you had some trouble yesterday.”

He kicks out a chair, offering you a seat. Raven is busy with some customers, but sees you and gives you a “what are you doing out of bed” look. You look at the doorway and see the red caped Talon guardsmen at the door and another two that must have just finished their shift sitting down to a meal.

“Can’t believe they hit this place, man. I see more of those guys in here than I do in the marketplace. Our Raven must have gotten stingy with the protection money since she has all her new tough friends around.”

“This isn’t my first turn through this place. It’s revenge week. The guild takes out its anger this week against its foes. Too bad it’s not the same week every year. It’d be easier to stop. Last time through, there were a couple of robberies and three murders in a week’s time. Then it stopped and it was back to petty crimes. I guess this puts the fear of the guild into everyone.”

As you finish talking, a fifth guardsmen walks to the front. He talks to the two on duty and one nods inside. He sees you and walks over.

“Sir, I have some news. It seems the same attacker that struck here has struck again. One of the blacksmiths. His assistant is out of town. He didn’t open and when the tent was searched he was found inside. They took him to the temple for medical attention.”

You rush to the temple to see it is as you feared. Unron is lying on the ground in front of the alter. Shandall’s robe is folded under his head, already seeping with blood. She has her eyes closed and is chanting low under her breath. Dycannus is standing nearby. After she finishes speaking she takes up his hand. There is no movement. Unron is dead.

“Son of a Balrog must pay!” Dycannus screams. He kicks the front pew so hard it rocks back and forth five times before settling to the ground again. Two other Talon guardsmen are there and they remove their helmets and put them to the side. Shandall closes Unron’s eyes and puts a hand on his heart.

“Rest well, my friend. A fine workshop awaits you. Your orders have all been filled here. Now you will fashion fine weapons for the gods.”

That’s two, you think. Two attacks. Two days. Both having to do with you.

You can order guards to watch the temple, but Shandall will refuse. “I can take care of myself and these men are needed to protect the citizens who are helpless.”

Dycannus chooses to stay with the priestess. You look at her and she nods at you. You feel that she can protect him. You do not know the extent of her power, but you do feel the overwhelming confidence in her.

If you go to Tarin, he takes you seriously, but will not accept help.

“It may be a bad time to know you, but I don’t step back when my allies are threatened. If it will make you feel better, I will disappear for a while, but I ain’t going to hide away in some mansion behind a wall of suicide puppets.”

If you want Tia to move into the mansion, she agrees. The butler says that he can have additional bedding brought to your room if you request it.

You try to think of anyone else who may be in danger. What if it is not just about you? What if you were just first? Then a cold chill travels down your back… what if you weren’t first?

A sweep of the marketplace finds the rest of the regular merchants accounted for except one. He is an alchemist who sells mostly potions that enhance ones fortitude or agility for contests of strength. They are illegal in official games, but the underground matches allow them for better shows. A search of his home reveals a struggle and you find scattered small coins lying around. If you bring in Tarin and he didn’t leave town at your request, a DC 15 (100xp) search check will find blood under the bed. If it is anyone else, it will take a DC 20 (150xp) check. He deduces that the killing took place there and the bed was moved. Only someone who had been in there previous to the murder would have known it was in the wrong place. The tragedy of his death is crossed with the relief that you had no prior dealings with this man.

So that’s three attacks. Maybe four if you count Raven and yourself as two although they happened in the same day. Does Revenge Week mean seven attacks? Will there be three more or just more in the next three days?

If you decide to send a rider to Cairfawn, it will take six days to get a message there and back, and that is at breakneck speed. If you try to get reinforcements from another land, it will take as long for the message to get there as it will for the attacks to stop. You know you are ill equipped to handle this. If you ride it out, continue.

You return to the inn with a contingent of guards to find Tia’s room ransacked. You know she is safe, but she was definitely targeted. A look into Tarin’s room also shows damage. Hopefully the ranger left town before the attacker raided the room. They are targeting you, but with Unron gone, Raven and Tia at the mansion, Tarin gone, and Shandall watching over Dycannus, there should be no more people for them to attack. You know that others are in danger, but how can you find out who they are?

If you ask around the marketplace, no one is forthcoming with information. No black hoods are wandering the market. Not even the trail leading from the city to the dock. Also, strangely, there are no shipments taking place this week. It seems like everyone seemed to know this was coming. Everyone except you, that is. Word that you’d been nearly killed swept over the marketplace, but your appearance now put most of that to rest. Then, when passing by a tailor that makes silk shirt for the baron, you see him. Same hair, same eyes, same scar. He spots you. Surprisingly, he walks over to you.

“Fancy meeting you here, Valestis. I thought the last time was the last time, if you know what I mean. I assume you are not going to draw that sword. We wouldn’t want you to go down before your healer friend can arrive and save you again. And we wouldn’t want any bystanders to get killed in the melee. Why don’t we get a drink?”

“A name, no Valestis. I don’t think so. I don’t offer my employers a name, so why should I you? It sickens me to have to wear their insignia while doing their deeds, but everyone has their fetishes. Your girl should know. Sometimes the tricks like it when you dress up.”

“To answer that question that you want to ask, no, it’s not over. I still have some errands to do before I leave town tomorrow for another job. I don’t think any more of them involve your compatriots, however. Well, there is returning little Tia to her concerned father. Seems you made quite a mess back there. Seems to have turned into a matter of pride instead of money. Well, I don’t think I want to test my skills against the defenses you surely have in that mansion, although it would be a challenge to steal her from your bed. I suppose I’ll just have to refund that part of the bounty. I’ve made enough on this trip to be profitable anyway.”

“The half-orc will be spared when he returns from Dormack. He’s being informed that the shipping prices are going up on him. That plus the protection fee he will begin to pay again should enable my employer to buy better crafted weapons and armor than the stuff Unron and he were cranking out.”

“Your ranger seems to have disappeared. I don’t remember nearly enough from my days as a woodsman to pick up his trail. That one wasn’t completely to do with you. Seems it was him the last time around playing hero. Well, he never had to face me. You did. Bad luck for you, Valestis. I would have liked to break that walking stick over his back.”

“The temple was never a target. The money man seems to think temples are off limits. No one can convince him that their little strike force did as much to disrupt income as delinquent shop owners. Oh well, you just can’t talk to religious zealots, now can you?”

“So where does that leave us, Valestis? You and all these guards seem to have made a real mess with the guild. Now you are reaping the whirlwind. If you should try to stand in my way, I may just take that ring from you this time and see how fast your healer will arrive. Maybe when he does, I’ll deal with him for free. Or maybe you can take a little rest in your mansion, with your lovely by your side, and recuperate until this week has ended. I don’t mind facing you again, but truthfully, I respect the fact that you survived the fight. Not quite a victory, but not a defeat. Not many souls survive encounters with me. Walk away with your life paladin, or maybe your interference will cost that pretty dark thing this nice new life she’s built for herself.”

The assassin finishes his drink and steps away from the table.

“You will probably make me regret not killing you in our first battle, Valestis. But then again, that is what life is about. Regrets. You probably regret taking that job for Unron and getting him killed. You probably regret giving Raven the confidence to stop paying her protection money. Don’t regret sacrificing that pretty little maiden of yours for a stranger’s life.”

With that he leaves. If you try to follow him, he loses you quickly. He is a skilled rogue, almost disappearing in thin air.

If you continue on the search to prevent the last murder, go below. If not, skip to the baron’s return.

You are in the strategy room. Raven and Tia are in the kitchens, keeping busy and trying to stay out of your way. Dycannus has come over to strategize with you. With you are two sergeants from the guard who are off duty. They tell you who is paying and who is not paying a protection fee to the best of their knowledge. There are a total of 3 not paying, two of which have already been accosted. The other two are away on business out of the city. The problem is, there are at least 10 merchants who would not respond one way or another and there is not enough proof either way to categorize them. There are not enough guardsmen to watch the after dark taverns and guard each dwelling, as well as keep watch over the mansion. They are spread too thin with the baron gone from the city. Spread to thin. What is it he said to you? “You and the guards.” The new captain of the guard is the last target! Malagant assigned him when he ascended to the throne. A man by the name of Makil Darkstar. You have seem him maybe twice and never met him personally. You hear that he is an accomplished soldier, but will be no match for a rogue of the assassin’s caliber. He is probably patrolling in the market place, making him a moving (i.e. easy) target. Could this assassin really tear through a troop of six guardsmen? Without a doubt.

You can order the patrols be cut off. It won’t endanger anyone because the guild is expecting heavy patrols due to the attacks. They are counting on it to get him away from the base. If you cancel the patrols and hole them up, the assassin will be forced to give up and leave. He has another job to get to and he has made his profit already.

You strike out with three of the mansion guards and Dycannus to the market place. Torchlight on several of the tents leaves too many shadows, but sheds enough light to see. You hear the steps of a large contingent of men ahead. It’s the patrol. You encounter the captain and tell him your concern. He agrees that it has been very quiet and it was giving him a bad feeling.

He doesn’t want to turn tail and run, but agrees to return to the mansion with you. He orders the patrols suspended. You are exhausted from a day with no sleep. Makil tells you that he hasn’t slept either since they found you nearly dead on the floor of the Swine. You think some of your wounds may be re-opening. Although you used your innate ability to heal yourself, that killing blow under your ribcage still smarts, and has left a scar as long as your little finger in your back. You doze off in a chair next to the fireplace and so does Makil. You awake in the earliest morning. The sun begins to rise. You step outside. Both guards are there and bid you a good morning. They have seen nothing. You see the captain is still asleep. You take one of the extra blankets and throw it over him. You decide to get a few more hours of sleep next to Tia in your own bed. As you walk to your room, you notice something on the door.

It’s a dagger stabbed through parchment. You don’t even bother reading it before bursting through the door. Tia sits up quickly, the covers falling off and revealing that she was sleeping in the nude. Blushing, she pulls up the blanket to her neck. “What’s wrong?”

You pull the parchment from the dagger’s blade. It says,

“Good show, Valestis. Your wits are quicker than your sword. The captain was my last assignment. You’ve earned your reward, as I have earned mine. I look forward to the next battle. Hopefully you will be an even more capable opponent. Yours… JS”

Each person gets 400 xp for saving the captain. Each person gets 200 xp for saving Tia. Each person gets 200 xp for saving Tarin. Each person gets 100 xp for surviving the attacks.

When you awake, the captain is gone. In the next few days you fully recover except for your new scar. Raven has gone back to work (“that strong box won’t fill itself, darlin’”), but Tia is taking time off to be with you. The baron returns with his full contingent of guards. You fill in the events of the past week upon his return. He’s outraged.

“This goes far beyond a symbiotic relationship with the thieves’ guild. This is an outrage. That’s it, I am declaring war on this band of rogues.”

You realize that if he makes his attacks overt, it will most likely bring back “JS” and you are not ready to deal with that demon again. If you suggest more covert operations, add 200 xp. If not, add nothing. The covert operations will be led by you with a team you put together. Each member is to be paid 100 gold per month plus a bonus for each successful mission that brings down a member of the guild.

Malagant demands that Tia move into the mansion now. He also offers to make Raven a cook and servant in the quarters, but she refuses.

“Havin’ wings is what life’s all about milord. I appreciate your offer, but your girls don’t dress trashy enough to make me happy workin’ here.” She turns to Tia, “I understand if you decide to submit your resignation though, honey.”

She looks at you and says to Raven, “No, I will be at work tomorrow. I am not going to let them win either. I let evil men run my life before and I will not let that happen again.”

You look at her and fill with admiration and fear. She will live with you, but she will not become your sex mistress. Too much of that in her life already. No, she is still seeing how far her wings will stretch, and that makes her all the more perfect.

And by the way, Malagant won the Lanceboard match this time because the Fangard soldier was not present. Turns out she’s been made a captain and sent to the front. “Hope she doesn’t get killed, I put in a request to have her sent here for a tour of duty.”

There is a commotion at the front and one of the servant girls comes into the dining room.

“My lord, please come quickly.”

Everyone leaves the table and rushes to the front gate. It’s Tarin. He’s holding a sack over his shoulder.

“Does this belong to any of you? I found it in a shallow grave in the woods while I was tracking a worg that attacked a kid.” He says, “Er, you ladies may want to look away.”

He empties out the bag and a head rolls out along with a navy blue shred of cloth. It’s a piece of a cape, with the red border still attached.

“Makil.”

You bend down to examine the head. It is not the same face as you saw before. The eyes are a different shape and the cheeks are not as full. That means the man you rescued was not Makil, he was already dead. It was JS. The guards must have been Crescent Moon foot soldiers filling in on the scam. He was probably planning to finish the job by nabbing Tia and killing you, but he didn’t. Why? As you are thinking this and holding the head in your hands, Malagant asks,

“Valestis, where’s your ring?”

Item lost: Ring of Regeneration

1991.06.17 Nemesis

Valestis awoke in an almost feverish sweat…again. Dreams and visions, it seems, had become his constant companions. Sleep, my lord! How can I serve you if I am exhausted! He laughed then, quickly thanking his lord for allowing him to serve a while longer in this life. So be it. Valestis slipped into his robe. The silk caressing his flesh reminded him of home. He missed Neverwinter greatly. That place is not my home any longer, he thought. My home is here now. He was convinced that he had been led to Rimule for purposes greater than himself and it filled him with hope for the future.

He stared out of his bedroom window into the night sky. The clouds had left the area before noon the previous day, leaving the stars free to shine unhindered. He had always felt a kind of communion with the stars, drawn to them instinctively. My blood runs through these stars, mused the aasimar. Somewhere out there, in the vastness, my distant relatives watch over the lives of us mortals. What do they see when they look upon me? Valestis’ mind filled with the faces of his family in Neverwinter. White eyes shined at him through his memories. Certainly, those who look upon my brother and my sister are pleased. His siblings were powerful. His brother would be turning 33 in a few months. His sister had turned 28 half a year ago last week. Both had earned appointments of clout and prestige earlier than most of their compatriots. What would they think if they looked down upon me now? Just as courage had become his greatest strength, doubt had become his greatest weakness. Openly, none would even guess of his constant inner struggle, save few. In his mind however, the buzzing, lingering tug of doubt never ceased. All of the familiar “what-if” scenarios flooded his mind. Valestis turned to head over to his comfortable desk chair when the deathblow wound on his back flared in agony as he twisted his torso. He grasped the scar and leaned against the wall, slowly making his way to the desk and his already well worn chair. Just another reminder of why I am here, he thought. By all rights, I should have not lived to even be in this town. I have been spared for a reason. Twice now. Still leaning slightly on his desk, he gently lowered his weight into the chair, turning towards the window at the stars as he did so. His lord had yet more work for him here.

He allowed himself a moment off pure self indulgence, bringing forth his memories of dying. While the assassin taunted him with words as his life was bleeding from him, Valestis had known but a moment’s peace. The doubt had gone, fleeing as his lord’s presence ventured closer. He was relieved. He could finally rest. He could relax. The crushing burden of responsibility would lift from his shoulders. He remembered snippets of images, his son, a brief glimpse of his wife and his parents and his friends. Then he had seen her. He thought initially that she was Kaylessa, come to greet him into his next existence. But it was her instead. He turned his head to the wall across the room, careful not to anger his scar by turning his torso as well. Tia had at least agreed to stay in the mansion, for the time being anyway. He knew that she would probably return to her old room at some point, but was happy to have her close by now. He had arranged a room for her, as the Baron had suggested. He remembered fondly the few nights they shared together before her room was ready and while everyone’s nerves calmed a bit.

He had forced her to be dressed while she lay next to him. She had worn a simple nightgown. It wasn’t much clothing, but at least it was something. He had woken her up both nights with his dreaming. At least the visions had allowed him to spend a few more waking moments with her beside him. On that last night, only a few days ago now, neither could fall back to sleep. They knew that her room would be absolutely and completely ready for the following night’s slumber. He remembered their conversation vividly. “Val?” she asked. Tia was one or the two people who he allowed to great him that way so far, the other being Raven. “Yes Tia”, he responded. “You are not the same man when the visions stir you to awake. What do you dream of?” Tia had already heard a brief synopsis of his past as the two traveled to Rimule months ago. He decided that it was time for her to hear the entire, horrible story. She was, after all, no stranger to pain and tragedy herself. He told her of his family and his former home and of the near annihilation of both. As he related his story to the girl, he became overcome by emotion. His throat tightened, his eyes welled with tears, and his breathing become gradually shallower. He could not bear to look at her while he was so affected. He closed his eyes and finished his tale of woe. By the time he had finished, Tia herself was sobbing uncontrollably. He had been so involved with telling the story that he had neglected to keep in mind how it would affect the girl. He quickly wiped the few teardrops that had managed to escape from his face and raised himself up on his elbows, grimacing in pain at the scar on his back as he moved. “That is the most awful story I have ever heard!” she sobbed through tears and an inconsistent voice. “How…how…do…do you continue…” her voiced trailed off. Valestis placed his hands on the girl’s cheeks and, using his thumbs, began to wipe off her fresh tears. Lifting her face so that she looked him in the eyes, he spoke. “Hope, Tia. My faith has given me hope. I would be lost without it.” He smiled at her and her face lightened visibly. She got up, dried her face entirely, and primped a tad in the mirror, even though there was very little light coming through the sashes covering the window. After she composed herself and fixed her hair, she returned to the bed. She curled up next to Valestis, each soaking up the other’s presence. Before lying down completely, she leaned into his face and kissed him softly on the forehead. “And you have shared that hope, Val. Thank you. Now close your eyes. They’re too bright to fall asleep this close to them.” She giggled mischievously and he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her a bit closer to him. In mere seconds, they had fallen back to sleep.

He snapped out of his reverie when he thought of how easy it would have been to have lost her recently. She could have easily been taken from him. Do not take her from me, lord. I cannot serve you without her. Immediately after finishing the impromptu prayer, he realized something. It will not be my lord who would take her from me, but an assassin, or a murderer, some an agent of evil. He rose from his chair quickly, feeling the pain of his scar once more. Instead of relaxing to ease the pain, her let it linger. His head swam of the events of the recent “Revenge Week”. He saw Raven, beaten and frightened. He saw Unsun, lifeless and cold. He saw the head of the captain. He saw Tia. No harm had come to her, but easily could have, even with his presence. His mood shifted to one he had not felt in a long time. He had not even known that he possessed the ability to feel this way any more. Pain…Rage…Hate! They fill my heart! They fill my soul! He was enraged, maddeningly enraged. He saw the assassin’s face, then he saw the crescent moon insignia. Pain! Rage! Hate! Fiends! Murderers! Assassins! Sending souls to Kelemvor before their time! You have awoken my hatred! You will all see my lord sooner than you thought possible! His anger overcame him and he hammered his fist into the desk. Bolts of pain flew up his hand, through his arm, and into his shoulder, jarring him into a more sensible state of being. Grasping his injured hand, he discovered a hairline fracture on the point of impact. He looked at the desk. It had not been so lucky. Imbedded in the dense wood was the culmination of his rage, a distinct indentation of his fist.

He heard muffled voices and the shuffling of feet and clothing outside his door. Apparently the noise had drawn some attention. There was a light knock on the door. He quickly answered it, careful no to use his now injured right hand. The on duty guardsman visibly relaxed when he saw that the paladin was well. “Everything alright in there, sir?” he asked. “Yes, all is well, Jon”, Valestis told the guard. “Very well, sir, but it seems you managed to wake someone else as well”. He stepped aside and behind him stood Tia. She was agitated at being awoken, but was relieved that nothing was amiss. She saw that Valestis was clutching his hand. “Are you alright?” she asked. “Yes, I’m…uh…” he knew it was pointless lying to the girl. It was an extremely minor injury, but damn, did it hurt. “I uh, had a run in with the desk”, he confessed, showing her his hand that had already begun to swell. Tia stepped forward. “Did the desk attack you?” she questioned jokingly. Jon the guard cleared his throat and Valestis realized that the man was still standing there. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Jon. Go about your duties, everything is fine”, the paladin told him. The guard nodded his head, eyeing the girl in a less than respectable manner as he began to walk away. He caught a glimpse of Valestis’ face and saw the residue of anger in his eyes. Disturbed, the man tripped as he turned away and scrambled to his feet, quickly getting out of the paladin’s line of sight.

Tia, studying the swollen hand, led Valestis into his room and closed the door. She looked at the desk and saw the impression of Valestis’ fist in the wood. She looked into his eyes, and even though he had tried his best to conceal the hint of anger that was still present, she could see it. “Your eyes speak volumes of you, Val. I won’t pry as long as you promise not to do it again, okay?” The paladin looked down at the honesty and concern in the girls face and the anger melted away, dissolving into a warm, soothing feeling that seemed to always accompany her presence. “Fair enough, Tia. I promise.” She smiled at him then said “Now let’s tend to your self inflicted wound”, shaking her head as she finished. Valestis spoke without thinking. “Oh, I’ll heal it before I go back to bed and it’ll be fine”. Tia frowned as she spoke, “Oh, I just thought that…sorry. I didn’t think about that.” Valestis cursed himself silently for being stupid. “But, I would welcome any help you’re willing to give”, he offered. She understood him well enough. He healed his hand and the two of them chatted for the few remaining hours of darkness.

Just before dawn, she took her leave of him, not wanting to be spotted exiting his chambers at daybreak. There were already a few rumors floating around town, and they didn’t need any help spreading or getting bigger. She knew that he would defend her honor to his last breath, but he didn’t need any more duties than he already now possessed. Valestis watched her scurry away and then closed his door. Sitting on the foot of the bed, he thought to himself, I should just ask her to marry me. I can’t stand not being around her and when I am with her I feel guilty. No. I can’t do that to her, he decided. Not yet anyway. She has only just begun to taste freedom. She enjoys being connected to me, but not tied to me. He could tell that she secretly enjoyed being the “paladin’s girl” as some around town had begun to refer to her. He just didn’t think that she would enjoy being the paladin’s wife yet. He had no worry that the girl would accept his proposal, but he just couldn’t bring himself to tie her down when she had so recently been given wings. She was just learning how to fly on her own. Not yet, Valestis, he told himself. Not yet. 1991.07.31

Betrayal (RP)

Valestis is called to Malagant’s study.

“My friend, there has been another attack. Not the same as the revenge weeks attacks, more similar to the one at the Swaggering Swine four nights ago. This time, however, the victims didn’t put up as much of a fight as your teammates. Three of my guards were overcome. They were only new recruits, barely trained enough to even respond to such a ferocious attack. We need to act immediately to infiltrate the Crescent Moon guild and set up a procedure to warn us before such attacks happen again. The Moon guild is becoming less of a thieves’ guild and more of a self-appointed militia.”

You think back to a few nights ago when Tarin and Edea were attacked and successfully fended off 6 rogues bent on killing them. In all your time around cities, you’d never seen an organized guild act with such reckless abandon. The fact that this guild was so willing to openly challenge Malagant’s reign was unnerving. You are taking this in and formulating a plan when you notice someone else in the room. She is the red-headed woman soldier from the Lanceboard game half a year ago at the old Baron’s passing. She is pouring over some books. No wait, they are journals that you’ve kept on the encounters we had against the guild since you’ve arrived, along with Tarin and Dycannus’s similar experiences. She looks up at you but before you can speak, Malagant starts again.

“I don’t want you to take this as a lack of faith in your abilities. Of anyone in the group, I know that I can trust your actions to be almost predictable in their purity and valor. It makes you very dependable and valuable to me. However, I think I need a military mind to fight what is becoming a military battle. Captain Sivora Landrin will be assuming control and command of our covert team as an offshoot of my Talon guard. There will be no uniform changes. I have given her your files on Edea and the recruits. I want you to go over your knowledge of the other members, Dycannus and the ranger. Tell her everything you know about them.”

“Here is what we want you to do. Put the word out that Edea is being hunted by us. Don’t be seen with her. Have the contact be made by the bard. It is known that he is an employee of the Swine, so you can communicate with him through Tiara. We must be very careful not to expose her or Zander to danger. We will always be a step behind should they need us, but we can no longer afford to be seen with them.”

“Continue to train and be seen with the two recruits and Dycannus. If you can rope the ranger into being seen in public, it will help. The guild knows you are close with him, and I think that he, not she, was the focus of the attack the other night in the Swine. This should enforce in their mind that the task force is made up of the five of you and allow Zander and Edea more autonomy. Sivora will take over for the loss of Makil. I don’t blame you for his death, but he is a perfect example of where a little better intelligence information gathering would have saved a valuable life.”

“Have Edea and Zander report back when possible; at least once a day. They can leave messages at any of the guard towers, with Chuwie, or with Raven at the Swine. That should give them plenty of places to slip by as long as the guild doesn’t whisk them away to a foreign land.”

You consider Malagant’s words as you walk towards the Swine. You are disappointed, but almost a little relieved that Sivora will call the shots. You are more than willing to lay your life on the line in this battle, but having other lives depend on you is a heavy burden to carry. You didn’t even think about how Makil’s death was really your fault until Malagant told you he didn’t blame you for it. It was not his time. He should be serving the baron, not Kelemvor.

Your feet have led you back to a familiar place. Maybe they hoped to see a familiar face. Raven smiles from behind some bar glasses. Tia is at home with a rare day off. She said she was going to spend it shopping. You would have spent it with her, but Malagant summoned you just after breakfast for your meeting. You see Tarin sitting at his table, working the seat back and forth. He still hasn’t gotten over the loss of his favorite chair. As you walk up, the chair across from Tarin is kicked out onto its back. You approach, pick the chair up and set it on its legs, and sit down. Thank goodness some things are predictable. The unpredictability of these strange guild tactics were wearing on your brain. You were always a better order taker than giver. Yes, you decide. This is better.

“So, what’s the long face for? You look like someone took away your favorite holy symbol.”

After you explain this morning’s meeting to Tarin, he beckons Raven over.

“We’re gonna need drinks. Stop shaking your head, paladin, it’s not an affront to your god. You are drinking with me.” You begrudgingly accept. You don’t drink to the point of loss of control, but a break from reality would be welcome. Besides, you are not in charge anymore. Raven returns with two mugs. “Thanks dark angel.” Tarin says. He half-stands as he drops too many coins on her tray and as he kisses her cheek. Were they getting close? You were sometimes so wrapped up in your own world of countering the guild and fostering your growing relationship with Tia that you missed things going on with your friends and compatriots.

“Here’s to looking out for your own ass.” Tarin says and raises his mug. “I’m about to tell you something. Now you can take this as a good thing, or a bad. If you are open- minded, it’s a great thing. You’ll come with me, we’ll pack up our shit, and leave town to lay low for a few months. I’ll teach you how to relax. We don’t need to be here when this shit hits the ground. Or, you can take it the bad way and you can play the hero. Just don’t insult me by playing the hero because you think you have to live up to some ideal. You’d better mean it.”

“Valestis, there is something rotten afoot. Why would Malagant bring in someone over your head? You are a goddamn paladin, trained in combat and general good-guy’edness. Because, paladin, there is a spy in our midst and the baron thinks it’s you. He’s eliminating you from the group. He tells you, ‘Don’t talk directly to Edea or Zander,’ ‘Be seen with the cleric.’ Sure, because he’s so warped and follows the same god as the baron. What if he’s being controlled by the head of the guild for the same reason? And he’s the one supposed to keep and eye on you, and me. I mean, I could understand if he wanted me out, I am pricklier when it comes to orders. I’d be an obvious snitch if I hadn’t already taken so many heads. You’ve done nothing but follow his orders.”

You consider this briefly. At first you don’t, but then you believe Tarin’s words. There is a traitor in our midst. Not on the team, you would have detected it. Or would you? It could be anyone. Why does he know this and not you? You begin to think of all the time Tarin spends on his sabbaticals. But no, the first time you encountered him he was defeating thieves bent on impaling you upon their swords. And that was before you’d been in town long enough to make enemies. He suspects Dycannus, but you believe the cleric to be pure of heart, but he is almost fanatical in his devotion to Heironeous. What if the secret leader of the guild was pulling his strings without him knowing? This must be why Malagant wanted you to report on your friends, so Sivora would be able to put an unbiased point of view on things.

“Well, are you going to comment, or just sit there and stare me to death with those white orbs of yours?”

Tarin’s frustration grows with your answers. “I believed that we had a kindred spirit; something that the other could empathize with and respect. Maybe I was wrong. I don’t like this at all. It’s not fun anymore. I quit.” He leaves in the direction of the inn. You know that he won’t be in town for more time than it takes to pack, settle up with Ham, and walk through the city gates. Other than the first swig, he didn’t touch his ale. Of course, neither did you. Never could stomach the taste. You consider the ranger’s advice. Could you just leave? Take Tia and go? You made a fine life here very quickly; perhaps you could do it again elsewhere. There are more people who are in line to meet Kelemvor other than thieves. (ask for decision) But you can’t. If Tarin’s right and there is a traitor who caused Unron’s death and all of the other attacks, it is his turn to meet your god.

You walk back through and meet Raven in the kitchen. You give her the instructions to tell Zander about his orders and to pass them along to Edea. You are still in shock from Tarin’s reaction. Just when you thought he was really coming into the fold, spending more time in town and even chatting up others besides you in his spare time. All except Dycannus, of course. He’d hated the boy from day one. But he’d never really snapped at you until now. You look at Raven. She’s glued to everything you do, and the ranger obviously likes her. But he still stormed out without saying good-bye. Was he trying to tell you something about her? Does she ask Tia about you and what you do? Did she turn down the place at the mansion to keep herself out of harm’s way? Her bruises were real enough, but with the battle JS gave you, she would have fallen quickly. She meets your gaze.

“Honey, you better get the weight of the world off them shoulders or you are going to hurt your back. I’ll make sure the pretty boy finds that little girl and gives her this message. You know you can count on me, darlin’.” She hugs you and you like the feel the warmth of her love for you. She was like having your big sister around again. You hug her back, happy for the companionship. All of your doubts melt away. She would never betray you or Tia by putting you in danger. Not only were her bruises real, but so were her tears for you. Ugh, your head is about to split. This was not a good day. You decide to see if you can catch Tia in the marketplace and forget what has happened. Then you’ll go back to the mansion and start taking orders, from Captain Landrin.

Cut to Edea and Zander.

Later that evening, Zander has just finished his set. The late crowd loved a story to finish the night and he’d just wrapped up a sad tale of a human boy and an elf princess who’d fallen in love on a ship from Neverwinter, only to have the ship crash against an iceberg and sink into the blackness of the ocean. The elf survived, but the boy drowns. Big tears welled up in Tia’s eyes. She was sitting in the front row, having only three patrons left and all of them were at the table in front with her listening intently. They applauded when you ended it somewhat happily, with the elf princess killing herself rather than living forever without her love. You always thought it was sickeningly sappy, but it was a lady-killer. Perform check. 5 gp per 5 points. 50 xp per 5 points over 10.

After everyone is shooed away, Tia walks over with still puffy eyes. “Did you know the princess?” she asks innocently. Too precious.

“Way to lighten up the evening, Zander. You really killed. By the way, I don’t like story time because people tend to drink faster with your faster paced performances. Remember, the more ale consumed the better I can pay your in gold at the end of the week. Otherwise you’ll have to settle for other forms of payment.”

If you say something lewd, she smiles, pinches your ass, and says “Just keep it up, sugar buns. By the way, your other boss wanted you to have this. Guess it means you’ll be taking a leave of absence. Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?”

You open up the parchment. It restates all the details of your mission and the various protocols to follow when reporting back gathered information to the baron and the new captain, Sivora Swordwraith. What happened to Valestis? Maybe he got run out of town! You’d seen the new commander ride into town yesterday evening when you were flirting with one of the few female guards in the guard post. Sivora was very hot in a “I command you to take me roughly” kind of way. You think this is a much better work environment, two women bosses. One of ‘em has to fall for you.

About this time of night, Edea was usually just getting started. You had taken a special interest in the rogue since that night you cheered her on as she kicked much Crescent Moon ass. She didn’t believe it at first, but then when you sang for her while she trained, her dagger throws were more accurate and plunged deeper into the crotches of the wooden dummy targets. She was tight lipped about her past, not giving you anything to compose about and impress her with. The most disappointing thing was that the only thing tighter than her lips was her belt. You hadn’t even got a feel of that milky white skin, other than the inside of the palm once or twice.

You strap on your weapons and walk over to the Vulgar Monkey. You liked the place because the women were free to serve without the restrictions of clothing. Some of the seamstress apprentices made good coin at night, showing up hung over for work the next morning. You think Edea liked to hang out there because #1, no one would look for her there and #2 because the men were so enamored by the naked breasts that they didn’t pay attention to her dealing cards from the bottom of the deck and taking their gold from them. You see her pulling a pile of silver and copper off the table and into a small sack. It was almost time to cash in. The patrons usually quit when they realized that they could not buy her favor with gold and they could get ass in their face for what they had left in their purses. You pass on the information on your mission to Edea. She agrees and you decide to let the word of her bounty hit the street before you approach the guild. Two days ought to do it.

You perform at the Swine both nights. Edea shows up so it will not look too strangely when the two of you ask for admittance into the guild together. You start pulling ruses on people in the market. You distract them with a song as she slices away their change purses. You two work extremely well together, but she turns down your almost constant advances. You do notice her shifting uncomfortably when you are singing your love ballads and looking at Tia. Jealousy, you think. Women are like a lute. You just have to know where to place your fingers and how gently to blow…

Cut to Edea

You are sitting at the table watching the crowd. You are trying hard not to watch the bard. You’ve been working together and getting used to each other since you received your orders. The word was out on the street that Valestis wanted you for questioning, which meant the Talon guard wanted your neck stretched. You even staged an escape with the help of Sivora. At least you think she was in on it, she had a chance to take your head and instead missed with that serrated broadsword and tripped one of her own guards. You managed to steal away without being found and hid until nightfall. Your appearance here was to look as if it was a slap in the face of the baron’s guards. Sitting here, enjoying an ale in their hero’s favorite establishment. If you were a man, you’d fuck his girl. You better not mention that to the bard, you are sure he’s been thinking that since he stepped foot in this place.

“What’s so god damn special about her?” You think. She hasn’t has a full sentence cross between her ears in her life. Just a tight ass with tighter tits. “Age will catch up you little shit, and when it does you’ll pray to look as good as I do.” Ah fuck, now you are starting to sound like the bard. You have noticed that Tarin has not returned to the tavern in days. Just as well, you think. Who needs the ranger about? Just barbarian’s with a bigger vocabulary. But there was something special about him. He wasn’t handsome like the bard, just plain. He was always yanking your chain which you hated, but liked the attention. He was in dire need of a bath and a shave, but his word was the one you trusted most of anyone. Oh fuck all, if you want to get laid all you have to do is show the pretty one some interest. Why pine over some scruffy kobold that lives in a cave!

The next morning, not too early, you rouse the lay about and look to make contact with the guild. There is a man that has been seen in town. He’s an arbiter. He is meant to settle disputes between those who cannot officially challenge each other according to the laws of the land. He would know how to reach high ranking members of the guild since they were necessary to resolve problems with overzealous foot soldiers, but also he would be an obvious approach, not giving away any of the intel you have gathered on the higher ranking members of the guild if you approached them directly.

You approach him slowly. He appears to be blind. His skin is a dark brown and he’s bald. He doesn’t carry any weapons or armor that you can see. He is wearing a coat which reaches down to his legs. It is made of black leather. He is starting down at the table he is seated at. In front of him is a plate of food that he’s not touched. He is wearing thin pieces of dark glass over his eyes. Before you can address him, he speaks.

“I’ve been expecting the two of you. Please, sit”

“I hear there is a bounty on your head, my lady. May I ask why?” Bluff check contested with Sense Motive (100 xp)

“I assume you are here to find a contact for the Crescent Moon guild. I must ask you, have you not been against them in the past? Why would you want to join them now? Why come to me for admittance?”

“Very well. Your contact’s name is Dryden Thane. He can be found in a store on the other side of the marketplace. He sells various tools, most of which can be used to enter well locked up places. He will be able to connect you to the guild. I hope this path brings you enlightenment. But know this. It will not be easy. Soon you will have to choose between your allies and your liege. If you stay true to yourself, you will not make the wrong choice. St. Cuthbert be with you.”

“Do you not receive gold from the baron for your services? Why would you take money from your pocket to pay your purse? Your team is just another arm of the guild to make its power seem more than it is. The baron takes from both ends, through taxes and protection. Your victories have been small and your losses grand. You’ve beaten a few foot soldiers, while they have taken the life of a captain of the guard and two well-known citizens. I came here to take down the guild, but there is a greater evil. Your baron is corrupt, and I will take him down. I am not just a judge, but also the executioner.”

You knew about Thane already. He is a skinny man, with dark eyes and blonde hair. He is twice your age. You think that his hair was not always this light, perhaps bleached out by some means to make him seem younger. His tent has no awning and his sits, sunning himself as you approach.

“I don’t know anything about any thieves’ guild.”

If you Bluff, you fail. “Do not try to con a con man, child.”

If you sense motive, he beats you. “You won’t get anything from me that I don’t want you to have.”

If you offer to bribe him, he will accept. “Now you are speaking my language.” 100xp for the bribe. 300gp minimum.

“Perhaps we should retire somewhere quieter.” He takes you inside his tent. There is nothing except a grate. You recognize this immediately as a grate into the sewers. Scum always seems to be attracted to sewers. He lifts the grate and you descend not into water and slime, but a well lit tunnel with a cobblestone floor. He leads you to an opening with four well-armed, black cloaked guards. He walks over and mentions something to one of the guards. The guard departs, probably going to fetch someone. He takes some clothes from a small closet. He tosses you each a set.

“Retire to that room and change into these. Leave everything else in there. Don’t worry, it is safe. We can’t have you pulling weapons from hidden places while you speak to our officers.” The clothes are loose fitting and have no seams to hide anything but your modesty. When you return to the room, the guards pat you down. One spends a little too long on your breasts and gets a heel in his groin. This makes Thane laugh and the guard collapse. “I believe they are too small to hide a broadsword between my good man. Collect yourself.”

A man wearing a fine black silk shirt walks in. His face is very attractive, although he is at least as old as Thane. The guard behind him is holding a chair. He stops and the guard places the chair under him. “Now, tell me why I should consider you for membership in my guild.”

“My name. I don’t think so. I will give you a name when you are a full member. You will have to face a special trial to enter. Call it a test of loyalty. Your physical prowess is already known to me. That test, my dear, you have passed.”

If Zander speaks before he is done talking to Edea. “Your friend is not eligible to join us at this time. We are in the process of determining where his loyalties lie, although your recent actions in the marketplace do impress us. Perhaps it will not be long until you can join, but for now, my answer is no.”

“If you should pass, you will be allowed free reign over the marketplace with only one rule. What you take is yours, but take enough to pay for your dues. 1,000 gold per year. As the market grows, so will your dues. Until then, if you manage to take more than 10,000, we will want to see one quarter of those profits for the year. The one unbreakable rule is before you attempt any ruse; you must come to me and clear the action. Nothing happens without my say so. Nothing. The attacks on the docks, the one the ranger that you stepped into. Really dear, you are so pretty. You can do much better than that scruffy do-gooder.”

“When you are ready, you may leave to do this task. After night falls, you must break into the baron’s mansion. You are to enter his bedchambers and open all of his locked drawers and chests. They are some of the most difficult locks to pick, but I have confidence that you will do this.” As the so far nameless leader of the guild explains your task, Thane looks surprised. “Are you sure you want to assign that task, to her!” With a wave of his left hand, Thane is escorted out of the room the way your approached. “It doesn’t do much good to have a front man if he is not at the front.” The leader smiles.

“What I want you to take is simple. It’s a necklace. A platinum chain with a blue diamond on the end. You may have to do some searching, but I am confident it is there. The value is more than 6,000 gold. This will be your fee for this first year as well as prove your loyalty. The baron will be most upset at this theft; the necklace belonged to his late mother. Leave all the other chests open. With your limited fame, this much is your calling card. Return here when you are done, and we will admit you to the guild and release your friend.”

Zander swallows hard. Two of the guards walk over to him and stand by him. “He will be our guest until you return with the necklace. He will be well taken care of, but not so well that I am sure he will not wish for your speedy return. You are permitted to dress in your armor and weaponry and leave. Hextor be with you.” He gets up and the guard takes his chair. He exits the way he came in. The guards say you may speak to each other until Edea leaves, but then you will have no contact until she accomplishes her mission.

What do you want to do?

You see five chests scattered around the large bedchamber. Malagant is away for the day and you have a free look around without worrying. The maids know you and will probably question why you are in there, but not try to toss you or start trouble. You’ve learned that Malagant has many mistresses and they will probably think you left your underwear behind and have returned to retrieve it.

Chests in Malagant’s bedroom:

Chest 1: DC 10 Search DC 10 Contains gold and platinum pieces… his private piggy bank. Chest 2: DC 10 Search DC 10 Contains banded mail and some other weapons. His war chest. Chest 3: DC 15 Search DC 10 Contains some strange items in vials. Wizard spell components by the dozen. Chest 4: DC 15 Search DC 10 Contains panties by the dozen. Bustier and stockings. For all shapes of women. His fetish chest. Chest 5: DC 20 Search DC 10 Contains jewelry. Rings and such, but no necklace.

You look around the room again. You see nothing. Knowing that Zander’s life and your mission is in your hands, you start getting pissed. It’s not fucking here. You’ve been screwed and they are going to kill Zander anyway. Hell, he’s probably already dead and they will make it look like you did it. Just when you could have started to lead a normal life. Mother fuckers! And my boss is a pig! You kick the fetish chest. It slides a few inches back. Spot check DC 15. 100 xp. You push back the chest and look at the floor. Using one of your daggers, you pry open an unfinished piece of the wooden floor. A small chest is inside. You slide it out easily. DC 25 lock. No search check. 200 xp. Inside is the necklace. SCORE! Also inside is an especially pretty, crafted ring made of white gold and marked in draconic. Probably the woman’s wedding band. You are so happy with yourself that you prance over to the mirror. How would you look as a baroness? You try the necklace on in the mirror. It looks great! How big were her hands? You slip the ring easily over your knuckle and it tightens itself to your finger. It’s magic! This ring is most likely worth 20 times what the necklace is. You could score a lot of points with the guild for this and most likely buy Zander’s life if they have decided to kill him.

If you take the necklace, 100 xp. If you take the ring, 300 xp.

You return to the tent, finding the grate locked and trapped. Just enough to keep out a non-rogue. DC 10 to disarm the trap. 50 xp. You descend and see the guards in the same place. You ask them to retrieve the leader and you go into the changing room. This time, the guard who groped you does not let his hands linger at all. You smile at this, and raise up your heel quickly. He flinches. You hit him on the arm twice. “Two for flinching, pal.” You are in a good mood. This is working. Soon you will be in. You have the necklace around your neck and the tunic half open to show it dancing at the top of your breasts. You also have the ring on your finger. You won’t tell them about it unless they try to pull something. If you don’t have to give it away, you can always return it to the baron to make up for the fact you stole his mother’s necklace. You figure you’ll pry it from their treasure chests soon enough.

The leader enters. He walks over to you. “My dear, don’t you look pretty. And where did you find such a fine bauble at this time of night?”

“You have done beautifully. I present you with this.” He hands you a badge bearing the mark of the guild. It is wrapped in a black hooded cloak. “I know what you are thinking, you only need to wear it to the guild meetings. There is no need to prance about in it unless I ask you to. And you may keep any company you like, from the paladin to the scruffy ranger. Just don’t interfere when their time is up. You won’t be made aware due to your previous connections with them, and I won’t ask you to take up arms against them.”

If you ask about Zander. “Your boy-toy is fine, my dear. Guard, bring the bard. He is very witty. He has been keeping us entertained with stories of sex and deception. Probably ones that you weren’t meant to find out about. He may yet be guild material, but I have not changed my mind about that yet.”

Zander is lead in wearing his own clothes. He is holding a sack containing his weapons and other equipment that the guard has just handed him as he passed from the back rooms to where you sit.

“Please do a good job of avoiding the Talon guards. They do want your head and will even more so when they find out about this. And keep that badge on you at all times. If guild member asks you for it and you cannot produce it, then you will be fined an additional 1,000 gp for your membership. Being a part of this guild is an honor you have earned. You now have family, my daughter. And you can call me Father.”

What do you want to do?

On your way back to “wherever”, you run into Tarin in the marketplace. He has been gone for three days and looks like he is just back to refresh his supplies. DC15 spot check will allow him to see the ring. He will tell you that you should report to Raven and he will go with you. If he fails the check, he will go with you anyway just to visit with Raven and apologize for his abrupt exit.

If you want to look for Gun, then he will be in the same tavern. He doesn’t know anything about the ring. He will say why he is here.

As you enter the Swine, you see an unusual sight. Malagant is chatting up Raven with Sivora at his side. Why is he here? It will give you a chance to tell him personally about your admittance into the guild. He congratulates you and kisses your hand, the one without the ring on it, and departs with Sivora. Raven will notice the ring. She asks you to come with her. She takes Edea to the secret room and asks her and Tarin to wait. She returns with Valestis and Dycannus.

If you help Valestis discover that the ring is the same one that JS took from him and therefore identify that Malagant is running both the guild and the guard, 500 xp each character.

Malagant has a ring of Mind Shielding. It helps him in talks with his fellow lords and the Father to avoid the fact that he is in charge and not them.

If you confront Malagant and decline his offer to stay on as captain, returning Sivora to her previous duty as only a guard, he will have Raven killed. Valestis will be framed to be the murderer with guards waiting to arrest him if he does not leave town immediately. He will be allowed to see Tia if he requests. She will have been told that he has killed Raven. She won’t believe it, but will be so filled with grief that she’s irrational. You can’t safely stay at the mansion, so if you force Tia to come with you, receive 100xp, if not, then she is a possible hostage.

Tarin has a retreat in the woods where you can hide. 1991.08.10

The Journal of Gunshin

I have arrived after five days travel at St. Cuthbert’s monastery on the eastern edge of Rimule with my new allies. They were driven from the land of Rimule by the unjust baron, Malagant. He has falsely identified the paladin Valestis Medeva as the murderer of Simone Moore, a local tavern owner and beloved citizen. I know he is free of guilt because his actions spared Simone’s life and she is currently traveling with us under his protection and care. She must travel with him because Malagant publicly buried a body in her stead and her return would cause her to be labeled a witch or a vampire by the populous and put her in mortal danger. These deeds are inexcusable, but in accordance with the laws of Northwind, Malagant’s reign cannot be challenged by a non-landed citizen of Avalon. It is the paladin’s wish to find a path that will lead him to prove Malagant’s many misdeeds and convince another noble to challenge Malagant, allowing Valestis to serve as the champion and defeat the evil baron in one on one combat.

These events have been difficult on everyone in association with Valestis. He brings with him a young ward named Tiara. There is a love between them that I can see is a budding romance. There is love between them that even my jaded, blind eyes can see. Her heart is pure, although I sense a deeper sadness in the girl. She gives off only positive energy to those around her, keeping smiles in steady supply. I believe she carries a burden or shame on her soul that if discussed, may bring her much needed relief. It is not my place to act as her priest, but hopefully she will disclose her pain with someone before it manifests into rage, jealousy, or hatred. I can see the paladin loves her like no other. She is his strength and weakness. I feel sorry for a creature that would lay a foul hand on the girl.

I feel sorry for the woman Simone, or as her friends call her, Raven. She is a hard woman and will survive these events as I believe she has survived other difficult circumstances in the past. I liken her fall to that of finally climbing to the summit of a treacherous mountain, only to have the snow and ice slide from under you and cause you to re-climb the most difficult portion you had already scaled. There is no fairness or justice in the events of the last few days. She worked her entire life, most likely trading her morality for coin in order to achieve a moral and just life, only to have it robbed of her by designated lord and protector. At the moment, her heart and soul are broken, but with care she shall mend. The girl, Tia, will help heal her damaged spirit in time, as would a male companion that can offer her support. She should not be forced to scale her mountain alone anymore.

We also travel with a soldier who has deserted her life for her ideals. This dedication to her values gives me joy, but also concern. Sivora has now rejected her life’s work to join a band of outcasts. She did witness Malagant’s evil first-hand, giving her no reason to doubt the truth of her new compatriots, but resentment and anger will set in on her heart if it has not already. She spent a lifetime earning her way into a man’s world of soldiery and from what I hear had bested many twice her age in rank and decoration. She finally got her lifetime wish to be what she’d admired, a captain of her home guard. She had earned through sweat, wit, and blood the right to defend her home and friends from enemies, but the worst enemy came from within and from that she could offer no protection. Malagant carefully constructed his organizations to easily eliminate those who would bring him down from power. She is without recourse and must now construct and latch onto a new dream. I fear that dream can only be vengeance, and it will turn her life’s pursuit into a twisted and gnarled version of itself. Her rage may destroy her before she can destroy that which caused it.

The most unaffected member of this group is the bard, Tamizander. His heart is heavy for his friends, but I do not sense a true feeling of loss. It could be that the boy has no deep attachments to these friends and feels he has been cast out of his life for no reason. I also do not believe that such banishments are new to him, although since this one was not of his doing, he may also feel some resentment at being tied to the fate of strangers. He does lighten the mood, trying to distract Raven with almost constant advances. He uses his charm and personality to improve the moral of the women, or at least I hope that is the reason. If not, he must take rejection better than any human I’ve ever encountered. I do not believe his loyalty will stand up to a test and I also believe that each of the other members here knows it. While he is about, I am enjoying his company and if he should choose to leave, I will miss him when he goes.

I have found a fast friendship with the cleric that travels with the group. He is a native of Dai-Rynn with ties that he will not fully explain. It is his choice for his friends to settle there. He must believe that he can offer some protection from Malagant’s wrath outside of the borders of Northwind where the baron is not respected, but is feared. He left Rimule willingly, almost happily. He did leave behind his mentor Shandall, but he knows that she will not be swayed by the remaining evil and someone is needed to fight the baron. He has told me that she served as a second mother to him, and also as a friend. She never withheld love or knowledge from the young man and that he appreciated more than a person his age should. He has wisdom beyond his years, and enough faith to provide for the entire group of companions. By his faith and healing skills alone, they will reach Belois in Dai-Rynn alive, I just hope his connections to that land are strong enough to protect them from the reach of Rimule.

Lastly I must write about Edea, the pretty thief. This soul I cannot read, and it concerns me. I know that she has a true heart, but I do not feel it is by her choosing. She contains the capacity to do good or ill and the intellect to justify both. I have known her longer than any other. When she confronted me with a desire to join the guild, I could see that she both wanted to fight the evil, but also was not there by her own volition. She told me a dangerous truth either out of blind trust or out of a willingness to get caught. I believe that she may have sensed the unjust heart of the baron before anyone else, giving her a detached mind and therefore clear edge in this battle. However, I do not think that her banishment has given her the family that she so desperately wants and needs. I can see she wants to love and be loved as a daughter, child, and wife, but her experiences of betrayal may cause that to never come about. I believe her heart’s recovery will begin with a single show of friendship. A single drop of love may open cracks in the ice on her heart and allow her to experience this life without suspicion and loathing.

I have forgotten about a member of this mismatched family. This man I have not met, I only know him through the descriptions of his compatriots. He is a ranger by the name of Tarin Blackblade. The name is not familiar to me, but of his deeds I am familiar. Valestis speaks highly of him. He trails our entourage to safely cover the escape in the event the evil baron changes his sentence from banishment to execution. This is a most dangerous undertaking, so he must possess courage and love for those I currently travel with. Raven speaks of him little, but then her broken heart speaks so little to anyone. Tia knows him only through Valestis and therefore shares the paladin’s love for him. The bard has shared no opinions on any of his other male allies, but this one he has a disdain for. Perhaps they have been at odds over a woman or the ranger has embarrassed him publicly. Dycannus hopes for his soul to be saved, but that is not a surprise. I would guess a woodsman would bristle under the preaching of the faithful cleric. But Edea, again I cannot read her. She speaks about him with a wicked tongue, but I can hear softness in the way she speaks the sharp words. When she is by herself, which is often, I wonder if she is not dwelling on the one member of the group she wishes to share the company of most, though she is as likely to curse him as kiss him when and if he finally arrives.

Perhaps this ranger is the one who can bring this whole group, not just the majority of members, together and give them a common purpose. I do not believe that Valestis’s mission will rally this entire troop to his cause. If a unifying leader cannot be found, the existing fractures may increase in size until current allies become no more than fond dreams of the past. It is a lot to ask of anyone, particularly one who disdains responsibility to live by his own sword and answer to none. The cleric does not possess the determination of a leader, though he has the wisdom. The soldier cannot count on orders being followed by such independent thinkers as Edea and Tamizander. Neither of those two want to lead, only to be a part of something that will let them grow roots and stop running. I cannot lead, for I do not know when my responsibilities will pull me away from them altogether. For now, I am happy to call them allies, friends, and companions. I will do whatever is in my power to protect them on their journey to Belois and assure their safety. When Valestis, Sivora, and I have found the way to bring balance back to Rimule, I will share my journal with the bard and allow him to sing of our tale for the rest of his days.

St. Cuthbert, watch over me.

Gunshin, the Bengosha of his people September 1st of the 1991st year of Avalon

1991.08.16 (RP) SEPARATE PATHS, prologue

You have been traveling for a few days now and you are but a few more days from the Rimule/Belois border. Everyone agreed that the best course of action was to follow the cleric’s suggestion and head to Belois in Dai-Rynn, where his godfather is the king. Well, not quite everyone. You had no say in the matter and Edea never agreed with them. Of course, she didn’t disagree either, but you can tell that she is not happy trudging around in the forest, eating game and berries. She has separated herself, partly because of her anger, but mostly because she is scouting ahead. You have been covering the tracks as the party travels, assuring no one from Rimule could follow them. Even after leaving the monastery, you decided to keep at it, just in case.

The sun is rising. You slowly make your way closer to your friends’ encampment. You want to be able to hear and see them, but not allow them to do the same. You have not made contact with them, thinking it better this way. You have seen Valestis and his newest friend, the monk venture a glance in your direction a few times, but only briefly. You smell meat cooking. You have been hunting game since you left the monastery, providing the party with meat for sustenance in addition to berries and other edible vegetation you have come across. It seems that in their haste to leave, they had all forgotten to bring food. The monks supplied them with water for their trip, as it was not too long, and a little food as well. It was not, however, enough to feed eight people and keep them strong enough for any dangers they might face. Fortunately for them, Obad- Hai has blessed you recently with plentiful game and an especially large buck that you left at camp for the party to find almost a half-hour ago, ready to roast on a spit. You thanked Obad-hai for his continued support and prayed a prayer for the fallen animal’s spirit, thanking it for its sacrifice in your time of need.

Your allies are now awake, mostly. You’re not sure if the monk ever actually slept, but at least you knew for sure that he was awake now, unless he sleepwalks. He appears to be writing something. The paladin has no doubt been awake for some time as well. You notice the deer has already been prepared for the spit. Well, somebody’s been awake at least. The woman warrior is chatting with the swordarm. They are pretending to fight with sticks instead of swords, attempting not to cause too much commotion. The woman lands a blow on the cleric’s shoulder. You almost wish that it had been a blade and not a stick since the foolish man had obviously not learned his previous lesson. The others are stirring. Raven is helping Valestis prepare the meal. Or, she is actually preparing the meal and Val is just trying to be useful. Tia is awake, but too sleepy yet to be doing anything. Her eyes are not all the way open yet and she has yet to brush her hair, which she does first thing. You hear a slight snoring. Apparently, the bard is still asleep. The only who is not present is Edea. She should be returning anytime now, if not the sun, and then the smell of food will bring her back to camp. Sure enough, while Tia is brushing her hair and Zander is waking up, the rogue slinks back to camp.

She draws back her hood and raises an arm to block the sun. You hear her curse under her breath. You’re not sure exactly when she sleeps, but she doesn’t seem tired, so she has to sleep sometime. Everyone begins eating as soon as the deer is cooked. They had been used to eating well and with ease. If you weren’t trying to keep a low profile, it would be easier to feed, but you are all making do. Only a few more days to the nearest town on the other side of the border, anyway. After the meal, everyone cleans up a little and gathers their gear. You left instructions with Valestis that you would clean up for them in order to save time (and have it done properly). All is well until the paladin asks Edea if she saw anything. “What? Like I wouldn’t tell you? If there was something out there, I would have told you as soon as I got back!” She was raising her voice and everyone turned to look at her. “WHAT! Why is everyone staring at me? Am I not the only one who is fucking pissed off here!?” she raged. Valestis moved toward her with a hand raised for her to quiet down. Edea turned from him. She pointed at Raven “You. You lost your entire life’s work!” She turns to look at Sivora “You lost your post!” She looks at Zander “You lost the opportunity to work in the richest market in the kingdom!” She looks at Dycannus “You had to leave your temple! I was forced to forge an alliance with my enemies. All of us! All of us outcasts and hunted because of YOU!” She was now in front of the paladin with a finger in face. “It’s your fucking fault that we’re all out here, damnit!” Valestis only stood there looking down, not meeting her gaze. You know that the rogue had just spoken what the paladin had been thinking all along. He blamed himself for everything that had befallen his friends. The others remained silent, in shock at the outburst of dissention. Save one. Tia stormed to the rogue, shoving her. “Listen, you! Who the hell are you to treat him this way? All he wanted to do was help us and you berate him for it?” the slight girl trembled visibly with anger. “If it wasn’t for him, you’d likely be caught by now and hung, thief!” she added, shoving the girl again. Edea moved to slap the girl, but a hand grabbed her wrist and lifted her from her feet. “You may chide me all you like, Edea,” the paladin said, lowering her back to the ground. Stepping in between the two girls, he continued “but you DO NOT touch her”.

The rogue was now visibly shaken and turned and bolted into the woods in the direction the party was heading. No one chased after the rogue, but gathered themselves for the rest of their journey without a word. Damnit, you think. Not only had the group lost its forward scout for the time being, but now everyone and everything with ears knew where they were. No one spoke for the rest of the day. The bard did not even try to butter up Raven, and that was serious. Perhaps he was upset that there had not been a catfight with hair pulling and clothes being torn off. When nightfall came again, the party stopped to prepare for another night’s slumber. Edea had yet to be seen since that morning, but you felt that she was nearby, still doing her job. Especially since she hadn’t shown up to eat when dinner was ready, and would certainly have to eat come morning. While others are making camp, the monk and the paladin briefly share a few words. After their conversation, Valestis walked in your direction and stopped about 10/ in front of you. You don’t know whether or not he saw you since he never looked at you, or if the monk had told him where you were (you had a feeling that the monk just knew). Regardless, Valestis seemed to know you were there now, close by. Close enough to hear. He knelt to the ground and began praying. The wording of his prayers was odd, but then again, they always were. He ended with a prayer for Edea, that she may be protected. “I fear ill- doings, my lord,” he said. “And humbly ask for her your protection this night”. An odd prayer indeed. Then you realize it. This prayer was not made solely for the ears of his lord, but for someone else who happened to know all the circumstances. And that was you. Time to find the rogue and make sure she is alright. 1991.08.21 A Different Kind of Ceremony

The two had been silent since leaving the town walls, having crossed twenty miles of grasslands and light forests east of Belfort together, but alone. Tarin walked in front, leading but being careful not to leave any trace of his path for more Rimule bounty hunters to follow. Someone had guessed, or had known, that they’d head to the closest city in Dai-Rynn. Really, it wasn’t too hard to figure, anyone just banished would probably head the same way. There may have even been similar parties waiting in Vontiff, Fangard, or other baronies surrounding the borders of Rimule. Edea trudged behind, not worrying where she stepped. She noticed after a brief incantation Tarin had said over her that her steps, though normally light, were non-existent now. It felt like she was walking on land, she had even tripped over some undergrowth, but it was as if the ground just ignored her presence. It was a very useful trick.

“If I’m ever going to get away from him, I’d better learn how to do that.” She thought to herself. In fact, many of the ranger’s skills would only enhance her ability to survive in any situation. That was her only goal since she was very young. “Just survive, Edea. Live to see another sunrise, and then do it all over again.”

Edea was lost in these thoughts when she noticed the ranger had come to a stop. “He couldn’t be tired,” she thought, “I’m just now getting winded.” The rogue knew he was purposefully going at a slower pace, covering and re-covering tracks as to allow her enough time to catch her breath during the long journey, but it was unnecessary. She was as strong as any man and could walk as far as he could. “But then again,” she thought, “if he needs to rest it wouldn’t hurt…”

She sat on a log and looked over at Tarin. His long hair was still dry on top, but was wet with sweat around his neck and ears. She was a shaggy person. It was the only way to describe him. His hair was uneven and one got the feeling he just maintained it enough not to get caught on anything as he wandered, and fought, his way through life. Being a more urban creature, Edea liked to spring for thorough hair washing and cutting at big city salons. She kept it short as to not interfere with her being able to see locks she was picking, but it was still feminine and very attractive. The ranger’s beard was in full wild man stage now, infesting his neck and growing away from his face. It still couldn’t hide the handsomeness of his face. He wasn’t beautiful like Tamizander or even square- jawed and stoic like the preachy cleric, he was just handsome. Then Edea realized she was staring and turned away.

“Are we stopping for the night?” she softly asked, not wanting to break the silence but wanting to take off her boots and stretch out her toes more.

“Just long enough to do what is needed,” he replied. He was removing a small steel mirror and some soap bars he’d bought in Belfort. What in the Hells kind of trick was he going to attempt now? “Stay close, I will not be far.”

Edea had no problem staying close, her brush with death had taken a lot more out of her than she wanted to admit. Although the cleric had healed her wounded flesh and bones, she still felt weak. She reached up and fingered the place in her neck where the bolts had pierced her arteries. Not a blemish remained. It was like the attack had never happened. She slid her butt off the log and rested her head against it instead. “Much better,” she thought. “I hope he stays gone for a while.” She was so used to pushing herself to match the men around her that exhaustion had a way of setting in as quickly as a summer storm. Before she could fight it, she was asleep.

Edea woke to a soft touch against her cheek. She reached up absent-mindedly for the object, still dreaming. She felt rough skin and slight hairs. She fingered the hand that touched her face and rubbed it softly. Then her dream ceased and instinct took over. She snatched the hand away from her face and drew a dagger from behind her head where she slept. The dagger flashed in the sun against the throat of the man crouched over her. He didn’t flinch. “What do you want!” she screamed, still not focusing properly. Then she met the eyes of the stranger. It couldn’t be… Tarin?

He turned his wrist quickly to escape her grasp and lowered her blade with his other hand. “I’m glad that I didn’t try that standing up,” he said. You noticed a small nick where you had held the blade against him. He licked his finger and rubbed the fresh blood from his smooth neck. “Better a cut there than elsewhere.” He smiled, and now it was evident what was wrong. He was clean. His beard was gone and his face was washed. He had his hair pulled back into ponytail and his shirt was a new one made of a deep green silk. He reached down and helped up the prostrate girl. She was still staring at him.

“Don’t get used to it,” he warned. She wanted to get used to it. He looked great. He looked more his own age rather than years beyond. His face had few if any wrinkles and his brown eyes were more prominent when one wasn’t distracted by his unkempt appearance. Perhaps that was why he kept himself that way. He returned Edea’s unflinching stare, allowing himself to dive into her blue crystal eyes and swim in her awed gaze. He didn’t expect this reaction, but was enjoying it as long as it would last. The streetwise warrior would be back soon, but this respite was enough to keep him going for another week. When she was vulnerable, she was beautiful. Then it was over.

“Lucky I didn’t do more damage than that,” she said, breaking her gaze and killing the moment. “I liked the beard better,” she lied.

“So did I,” said Tarin in a voice that let her know that she wasn’t fooling him. It was only because she wasn’t trying.

“What’s with the big change? Finally smelled what I’ve been smelling since Belfort?” she joked.

“You’ve been upwind,” he said seriously, but then got the jab and shook his head for being so literal. “I didn’t think you’d recognize this spot. Last time we were here, I was carrying you.”

“Probably trying to cop a feel,” she said, wanting to keep trading barbs, but then it hit her why she would have been in his arms. She looked around herself and realized they were standing in a campsite. She slapped her hand against her neck where the crossbow had struck her down. She looked wildly at Tarin, tears filling her eyes and blood rushing to her cheeks. She needed to escape.

“WHY DID YOU BRING ME HERE?!” she screamed for the whole forest to hear. “You sick fuck. I thought I could trust you. You sick fuck!” She grabbed for her gear and went to leave, not caring that she’d never find her way alone. She had to leave this place. It was the place where she had almost died. This place where she had gotten him killed. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she fought away. Then she felt both of the ranger’s arms hug her from behind and lift her off the ground. She kicked backwards and met his shins with her heels. She reared back and stomped on his feet. He wouldn’t let go of her. “Get off me, you bastard!” she cried. She was crying now. She was mad at him for bringing this place back to her mind. She was mad because he would let her run.

She shifted her weight again and they toppled to the ground. He loosened his grip and she turned to face him. She now sat on his legs and beat at his chest with small, clenched fists. “I hate you, you son of a bitch! Why? Why do you want to torture me? I thought you were my friend?” She screamed and hit and cried, her tears splashing against her hands as she beat on him. He only protected his face, allowing her to continue to pound his chest until she collapsed on him. He put his arms around her. She was sobbing loudly into his chest. Her mind had completely shut down and all she could do was feel pain. Tarin held her while she bled to death, emotionally. Finally, she could cry and hate no more. Edea just laid there in his arms, quietly sniffing away the last of her tears and biting her lip. Her face was streaked red and her eyes looked like a zombie’s. She didn’t want to look at him.

They laid there for over an hour. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back. She shifted to be more comfortable on his chest. A passer-by would have thought they were lovers sharing the warmth of a spring night. They weren’t, they were just trying to survive the next few moments. Finally she stirred, gently squirming out of Tarin’s grip and getting to her feet. He raised himself up on his elbows and looked at her. She wouldn’t meet his gaze again, he though, but then she did. Her puffy eyes were still filled with the pain of death and anguish. His heart fell. He got to his feet as she began to cry again. Now it was not anger, but regret that fueled her tears.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I lead her here. She killed him. I should be dead too. Why aren’t I dead too?” Her questions were not meant to hear answers. She felt the aasimar’s goodness and peace wash over her like a blanket. She shook it off, wanting to freeze to death in her shame. She had killed the only man who could bring the family they created together. It all started and ended with him. She was a common thief meant to swing from a gallows, but he gave her a job and a life and a chance to fight against those who would abuse her skills for their own gain. She had killed the man who saved that girl from a life a rape and incest. She had killed the man who was so pure of heart that his eyes glowed with the light of his snow white soul.

“If Kelemvor had wanted you, he would have taken you too,” Tarin told her. His voice was deep and close to her ear. She buried her face even deeper. She felt the skin of his chest against her face; she must have ripped his new shirt when they fought. When the tears stopped to rest again, she pulled away and looked into his eyes. They were filled with pain, but not for her. His eyes were always carrying his burden. Edea’s mind flashed to moments when he let his heavy weight slip off his shoulders, but mostly her memory of his face carried the pain that she felt now.

“You didn’t kill anyone,” he said to the air. “It’s not your fault they’re gone.”

“They?” she said. She barely got the sound past the lump in her throat.

Tarin snapped back to the moment. “What?” he asked.

“You said they,” Edea replied. She looked at him quizzically.

“He, I meant. Valestis. You didn’t kill him. The demon did.” Tarin stammered.

“I know,” she agreed. Her eyes fell to her toes. She’d not had a chance to put her boots back on. All this scuffling had ruined her last pedicure. She wiggled her toes in the dirt below her feet. It actually felt good. She grinned a little and looked up at Tarin. He was also watching her toes. They looked at each other and smiled. Sometimes the littlest things can break a world of tension. They had needed to laugh.

He took Edea by the hand and led her to the spot where Valestis had fallen. The ground was scorched by electricity. The beast had teleported them away to kill him in a manner you did not even want to imagine. Tieflings could be more vile than a true demon due to their human soul and the twisted lives they are forced to lead. Their very nature causes them anguish and pain that usually turns to murderous hate. Tarin had already placed the morning star he’d carried that had belonged to the paladin in a small sack and placed it in the center of the burned ground. Edea had not taken anything to remember him by, hoping to forget as soon as possible. She looked over at Tarin who had a solemn look on his face. He hadn’t shed a single tear. Perhaps he was out of tears. Maybe ‘they’ had taken all the tears he could cry. Edea walked over to a nearby tree and ripped loose a piece of bark. She removed the dagger that she’d placed in her belt, the one that she’d used to draw blood from the ranger’s throat, and carved an inscription.

To our friend who fell. You will be remembered by those who loved you. When we are reunited, there will be happiness in all our hearts. May your journey bring you peace.

She stabbed through the piece of bark and into the tree whence it came. Tarin walked over next to her to read it. He put an arm around her shoulder.

“You make it seem like we’ll all be together again.” Tarin said.

“We will be,” Edea replied. “Who wants to live forever?”

“Not me.” He agreed. Tarin looked over at the girl to realize that she was already looking at him. He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back, she was examining his eyes. Reading him. Now it was his turn to push away. He retreated to the wall that he’d built, so much like her, to hide his pain. She reached for him and pulled his arm back to her. Her hands slid down to his rough palm and she pressed it against her face. He looked back at her, thinking this would be the only time that he’d ever see this part of her. She was open, vulnerable, and as beautiful as an angel. He decided that he couldn’t allow the moment to pass. He reached his fingers to the back of her head and pulled her face to his. They kissed, long, slow, and soft. Both their eyes closed and they held each other for an eternity, sharing a moment both knew would not come again.

When the spell was broken, they did not speak. Both turned and headed back to the campsite a few yards away to collect their items and continue on their path. For one last time, Edea reached out, and took the ranger’s hand. He squeezed back, not looking at her.

“Tarin,” she whispered as if not wanting to wake anyone else in the world to their private time together.

“Yes, Edea?” he replied.

“Who were they?” she asked, almost expecting him to break away. It’s what she would have done.

“Someday, my dear,” he promised. “I am not ready. I am not as strong as you are.” As he said this last part he stopped and looked at her. Her face was still streaked with dried tears and raw emotion. Edea had never felt weaker in her entire life. He tried a smile, but it wouldn’t come. He turned to walk away. She let his hand slip out of her grasp. The moment was over, and they were both alone again. She stood perfectly still and watched him remove his torn shirt, stuff it away in his pack, and don his leather armor. He never looked back at her once.

“He needs me,” she thought. He was right, she was the stronger one. Now she would be there for someone else to lean on. She knew they’d glean strength from each other. Neither of them was ready for a family like the one they’d deserted in Belfort. They needed to start slowly. They’d start with each other. First you must trust one person, then you can open up to the world. She knew that she could trust him, and she also knew that he could trust her. She would find out what burdened his heart, the way he’d known how to relieve hers. They just knew because they held onto the same pain behind the same walls. She walked to the campsite, dressed, and followed him out of the campsite. The silence was deafening. 1991.08.22 A Funeral for a Hero

Gunshin stood in the largest room the Bronze Halberd had to offer, looking across at his new friends. Raven and Tia had been using this room since they moved into town, but on the rare occasion that they all got together; this was the one place where they could all meet to talk away from any ears that didn’t need to know their business. After all, fugitives, even from another kingdom, did not know where there enemies might be hiding. He wore his overcoat made of leather over his black tunic. As it was nighttime, his trademark shades where in his pocket. Rarely did he meet anyone’s stare with his own eyes, but tonight, he would.

“I believe there is something that we need to do,” he began. “There is a hole in our group and it needs to be closed. I am afraid if it isn’t, then we will slowly bleed from this wound until it kills us.”

They each listened closely. They had been in Belfort for six nights since traveling twice that many through forests and plains to reach their destination. The warrior Sivora sat in a chair with Duncan at her back. Tia and Raven sat on the bed. There wasn’t a night that passed when the younger girl didn’t sob herself to sleep for her missing love. Tamizander, the bard, had left town, but he wrote Tia and Raven each day telling them poetic stories about the other town in this area, Pirgos, and inviting them to visit. From the outside it must have seemed to be a very odd dynamic, but tight-knit, family. However, there was a missing member from the meeting, a person they all loved and who stayed in the back of everyone’s mind. Gun intended to bring him to the forefront.

“We cannot go on pretending about Valestis,” the monk continued. “It is time that we gathered our wills and do what needs to be done concerning his departure.”

“Yes!” Tia shouted. “We are going to go after him? Finally we are going to find him and bring him home?”

It was one of the few times she’d spoken since the paladin’s disappearance. She had fallen in love with the white-eyed aasimar from the moment she saw him. He came to her dreary existence like a guardian angel on horseback, and then rescued her from a horrible life of abuse and deceit at the hands of her own father. On the journey to Belfort, a powerful foe had attacked him and spirited him away while leaving a horde of skeletons to finish off the rest of his companions. The grisly foot soldiers were overcome in a fierce battle, but the demon, and Valestis, were nowhere to be found. Even the ranger they had traveled with couldn’t pick up a trace of the pair.

Gun crossed the room and sat next to her. He looked deep into her innocent brown eyes, trying to communicate his next words to her before saying them.

“My dear, we are not going to search the world to find him,” Gun explained, “because he cannot be found. He has been taken by a demon, but that is only temporary. We do not need to fear for him, because he is a loyal and willing servant to his god. The beast may toy with him, but eventually he will die, and then he will stand by the side of his lord and be saved. What we need to do, is honor him, and bury him.”

The hearts of the group sank. On the night of their arrival, the strongest of the group, Tarin the ranger, Duncan the cleric, and Sivora the soldier, all agreed not to risk the lives of the others by dragging them across the world searching for a demon that bested two of their finest fighters without much of an effort. From the physical appearance of the assassin and the stink of brimstone that accompanied her, they knew that the foe was out of their league. It would take a powerful band indeed to tackle a demon and send it back to Hell. Gun had not been there, but as he seemed to do, read the decision from the three’s faces and knew what had to be done. They knew that Tia would never accept just giving up. Raven missed the man like a hole in her heart; she’d lost everything for him and his girl. Duncan had to convince himself daily not to be so vain as to beg Heironeous for the return of his friend in his prayers. This was the only way to close the wound. They would recognize that the paladin had, or will soon, cross over the boundary to death and only exist with them in their memories and dreams.

“No!” Tia shouted and broke from his grip. She stormed over to the door, but did not open it. She turned, tears in her eyes. “Why won’t you help him? He would go to any lengths to help you!” Her voice cracked with sobs in between scolding. Her cheeks were flushed with rage at the assembled adventurers. “He risked his life to help me! He didn’t have to, but he saved me without any reward! He did it just because he loved me, and all of you! I hate you! He’s not dead…. I love him. I can’t go on without him. He’s not dead!”

Her tirade ended in a total collapse. She was now sobbing too hard to continue speaking. Her shoulders shook with the labored breaths. Duncan crossed over from behind Sivora and knelt next to the small form crumpled on the floor. She was literally dying in front of them, and it was what the monk had intended. She had been dazed, not going through the emotions that were inevitable after the loss. Now they flowed like a river from her. Rage, despair, hatred, remorse, all of the emotions flew through the air and swirled about her in an indistinguishable fog. Duncan put both his large arms around the girl and hugged her. To everyone’s surprise, she turned into his arms and hugged him back.

“My girl, you’ve lost more than any of us here. Sivora and Gun have lost a friend, Raven and I have lost a brother, but you have lost a soul mate. We do not minimize your loss, but we all love you too much to see you suffer. He saved your life so you could have one free from abuse and immorality. You were meant to have the youth that your father stole from you; the joy that this rich world brings. The death of your love does not mean the end of your life. He would tell you to walk this earth as a living zombie yearning for death is an affront to his god and an insult to him.”

She pulled back slowly and looked up into his eyes. She saw him, perhaps for the first time. He was not much older than she, perhaps only five or six years, but his eyes were very old. She could see the depth of his caring for her, and how much he wanted her to stop hurting. She turned her head to the rest of the group. Raven was in tears, holding onto the monk’s hands in her lap. She watched the episode, knowing that she could not be the one to go to her. Tia had depended on Raven so heavily in the last few nights, it had exhausted the will of the already beaten down woman. Meeting her gaze, Raven forced a smile.

“We love you darlin’, and we love Val. All of us do. He’d want this. He’d want us to go on and live. It’s like he used to say, dyin’ is just a part of livin’. You got to do both to the best of your ability.” At the end of her pep talk, she choked up and turned away from the scene. Gun put an arm around her and held her head to his chest. He was looking at Tia without emotion, but the girl knew that he’d started her on a road to recovery. She felt lighter. Her sadness was not gone, but she felt that maybe there was a possibility of a life without eternal darkness. She couldn’t see any light at the end, but perhaps it was enough to recognize the hope that one day she would.

The last face she examined was Sivora’s. The soldier was perhaps the most battle hardened and toughest member of their group. She had fought without restraint against those skeletons and without her the battle would not have been won. Then they would all be with Valestis and his god, not getting to experience life. Her red hair was down around her shoulders and her green eyes were wet. Tia had probably hated her most for not going after Val. She’d thought that as a woman, she should have understood about losing a love and as a warrior she had the ability to get him back. But the stoic former captain had been cool to her. Now Tia was realizing that she had been strong. She hurt for her own banishment from her homeland and the betrayal of her liege, but she had been strong for a silly girl who she had only known for a matter of moments before essentially swearing to give her life to protect her.

Tia broke from Duncan’s grasp and got up on her feet. Still looking at Sivora, clothed in a simple white dress that showed her strength as well as her femininity, Tia crossed the floor and hugged her neck. Sivora, surprised to say the least, awkwardly hugged her back.

“I’m sorry, Sivora. I’m sorry that you had to leave Rimule. I’m sorry that Malagant hurt you. I’m sorry that I was hateful.” The apologies streamed from her, the slip of a girl disappearing in the arms of the soldier woman. Sivora stood up and held Tia against her much larger body. Now her uncharacteristic tears started flowing while the group in front of her took in the touching scene.

“Oh honey, stop it,” Sivora softly scolded. “You don’t need to do this. I know you weren’t yourself. No one can lose someone that close and not be affected.” She pulled away and looked at the small girl’s face. She was as adorably forgivable as a small puppy who’d just chewed your favorite boot. Not granting the forgiveness she sought was impossible. Sivora cracked an uncontrollable smile. “You are going to ruin my reputation as a hard ass treating me like this.”

Laughs started to sneak out of the others. Duncan, who’d been sharing his bed with Sivora since they’d arrived in town, knew how much the woman had hidden her hurt. Their liaisons were physical and exhilarating, but there was not the emotion that is usually attached to the intimacy they shared. He had held her as they slept and occasionally felt her unsleeping eyes tickling his chest while she blinked. He didn’t bring it up, counting on the fact that time and trust would be the keys to open her locked heart to him and the rest of the group. And now this tiny girl, the one they all thought they had to take care of, battered down her walls. Sivora met his gaze, and smiled at him. Her look said, ‘You son of a bitch, you aren’t allowed to be right about me.’

“Let me tell you what we do now, ok?” Sivora said to Tia, but really to the rest of her makeshift family. “We are going to take some of the money we have and we are going to buy a fine casket. Then we are all going to take those little mementos we’ve kept of Val’s, and put them in the casket. We’ll bury him together, cry for our fallen friend, and then we’ll start over, all of us together. No more silliness, no more regrets, only hard living and harder playing. We’re your family now, honey, and if you don’t straighten up, I’ll kick your ass.”

Now everyone laughed in a more comfortable outburst. “That goes for all of you, and you all know I can take you.” This brought out a lot of nods in agreement, mostly from the men in the room. Sivora was taking over, and that was just fine with everyone. She’d get them on track and they all trusted her now to not just use their talents, but to care for each person in the room. Raven got up and joined the two women where they stood. Duncan did as well, and then Gun. They all held each other in silence, regretting they had to go through this, but glad they had each other to share the burden. No one should have to share such a terrible circumstance alone, and now they wouldn’t.

The next morning, Sivora set out to make accommodations to bury Valestis’s worldly belongings. They traveled back to the site where they had camped and where he’d been attacked a week before. Tamizander was now with them and shocked at the change in attitude of the group. “Must have been all those letters I sent, huh?” He said to Tia. “Made you feel better?”

“Yeah, Zander,” she replied, looking over at everyone else. “That’s what did it. Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek and trotted over to walk up front with Sivora who was leading the horse drawn wagon. Zander grinned from ear to ear. He was back in! Tonight he would… go back to his other town because he’d been run out of Belfort! Damn it! Why, why, why did that have to have happened? He could have spent tonight in those slight arms with his face buried in that dark brown hair! FUUUUUUCCCCCK!

“It’s just ahead, Tia,” Sivora warned. “Are you alright?” She looked down at the girl’s face. There was a strength returning, but it was not all the way back yet. Her eyes looked on the verge of tears, but no longer let them flow without cause. “It’s ok to break while you are here, that is what this is about. You come here to grieve, so you don’t have to take it around with you. You should see me on the battlefields where men and women I'd known and trained with have been lost. I’m a wreck.”

At this revelation, Duncan, who had been walking on the other side of the horse, perked up and stared at his recent lover. She looked back at him, showing a softness that he really liked, but then it was gone. “What are you looking at, you fool!” she shouted, startling the pony. “Was I talking to you? No! I was talking to my friend over here. Turn around before I knock that stupid grin off your ugly face.” Tia smiled both at the playfully melodramatic exchange and being called Sivora’s friend. She looked back over her shoulder where everyone was enjoying a light moment before arriving at the site where they would bury one of their own. Everyone, that is, except the bard, who’s eyes were fixed on Tia’s ass.

They arrived at the campsite. Being so close to their destination, Tarin had not cleaned the campsite, preferring speed to tidiness. You could see where the battle with the skeletons took place, where the campfire had been, in fact you could see where some of them had slept. A hard rain would erase all of this, but for now it was like a window in time. Duncan stepped into the tree line, crushing fallen branches under his heavy boots. “Over here, Tia” he said. “This is where it happened.”

She stood next to Sivora, both her arms entwined around the right arm the muscular woman’s. Tia hadn’t even realized she’d taken a hold of her. Sivora slipped loose and patted her on the butt. “It’s time to face it, baby. We’re all here. Go on.”

Tia had been slow to awake when it actually happened. She got to the front in time to see a pair of red eyes over Val’s shoulder and a whiff of burning rock. Then she saw the flash of a blade on his neck from the campfire and she tried to rush to him. Some had grabbed her, but she never looked to see who. Whomever it was had most likely saved her life. She picked her way over to Duncan who was standing and looking at the ground. “How do you know that it was here?” she softly squeaked out. “It was so dark.”

Duncan reached back for her hand and pointed at the ground. On a small burned patch of ground was a bouquet of wild flowers and Valestis’s morning star wrapped in a burlap sack. A small piece of tree bark was fastened to a nearby tree by one of Edea’s daggers she kept hidden in her boot. It had a small inscription.

To our friend who fell. You will be remembered by those who loved you. When we are reunited, there will be happiness in all our hearts. May your journey bring you peace.

Tia finished reading it aloud and turned around. Everyone was standing behind her. She thought of Edea and Tarin disappearing on them, abandoning them. She remembered how angry she was at the ranger and the thief. Now she understood. Other than her, they probably hurt the most. Tarin stood just steps away from the devil and could not rescue his friend. Edea had nearly been killed when she discovered the evildoer and must still blame herself for not giving the group any warning. Now they were gone on their separate ways, but they both still met here and paid their respects to their fallen brother. Tia smiled to no one in particular. She walked quickly over to Raven and fell into her arms. Gun, standing by the older woman, stroked the young girl’s hair. Everyone shared looks, knowing that although their family had felt splintered, they were now united, even with those who were not present. They would probably grow in number, or perhaps be brought together again to bury one of their own, but they would still remember the man who brought them all together and in death, united them.

Each person said a little prayer for Valestis to their respective gods, and then to Kelemvor, asking each to watch over and protect their friend. Tia brought out his sword last. She’d wrapped it in the white cotton nightdress that she’d taken off for him on the first night they met. Except for a couple of other accidental incidents, it was the only time he’d ever seen her naked. It was the closest they had ever come to sharing their bodies with each other. She laid the sword on top of the other items, his armor, his shield, his prayer book, even his spell components. She pulled the coffin closed and kissed the exterior.

“I’ll love you always, and will never be without your presence in my heart. I will live my life as fully as you would have wished it. I have loved you since I first saw you, and I will love you for the rest of my life. You have given me a life and I will not waste your gift. Please, Valestis, rest. We will be alright. You can finally get some sleep, my hero.”

Her speech was choked, choppy, and as eloquent as any one of them could have hoped to muster. Again they shared a hug, the entire family of mismatched brothers and sisters. Duncan kissed Sivora on the cheek, Gun held Raven’s head to his own, and Zander laid a reassuring hand on Tia’s behind. As proof that the gravity of the moment had even affected the lecherous bard, he did not squeeze. They walked out of the woods together and left the mound well marked, so they could return whenever they needed to feel protected by their paladin again. 1991.08.29 The Healing Process

Sivora Landrin, Dycannus Bane, and Tia Leigh made their way to the site of the unofficial funeral in honor of their fallen companion. It had been a week since the service. Everyone had gone about their lives with a renewed gusto, knowing full well that the paladin would only chide them for not living the life they had been given. Tia had asked Sivora to escort her to the site, wanting to speak with Valestis. The girl’s mood had improved drastically, but she still had a large emotional wound and she still suffered from the loss of her love. Time would be her biggest ally on the road to recovery and though she had some degree of closure, she still wasn’t capable of letting go completely. She decided that she would pay her respects as she felt the need (and could find someone to take her) just as people visited cemeteries. She had to promise to everyone that she would not make too many trips and that she would try to distance herself from the site when she was ready to do so. Her puppy dog eyes and pleading “Please, Sivora, please?” had convinced the woman warrior to escort the girl and Sivora had asked her clandestine lover, Duncan, to join them.

It had begun to rain as they were only about 100 yards from the site. Sivora muttered a curse under her breath but kept trudging along. She avoided making eye contact with the other two. As a matter of fact, no one looked at each other or even spoke the whole way. The rain was not heavy, just a constant drizzling spray of water. Sivora knew this weather well. In only a few short weeks would come the serious rains and then spring would begin to bloom in full. It was her favorite time of year. The pleasant smell of fresh rains in the grass, the first whiffs of blooming flowers, and trees with fuller, more vibrant foliage than they currently possessed. She was awash in her thoughts when she noticed that Tia had run up ahead and that Duncan was also in front of her now, pursuing the girl.

“Wait up, Tia” yelled the cleric. “You asked for escorts for a reason!” Sivora was now running after Tia as well. Duncan and Sivora caught up to the girl when she slowed down as she approached the site. “Look!” Tia exclaimed “Lilies!” Sivora walked a little closer. There was a ring of white flowers surrounding the mound the group had buried the memories of their friend in a week ago. “They are lilies” Sivora said. Tia had already gathered a handful and now smelled them intensely. Sivora continued, “Lilies don’t bloom this early in the year. Or completely in a week’s time, either. And furthermore, Lilies are only present farther north on the continent.” Tia frowned at the woman. “But they’re my favorite, Siv” she said. “Sorry, Tia, I didn’t know” replied Sivora. Duncan chuckled lightly and said “No, Sivora, but I know someone who was aware of Tia’s fondness of the flowers and how frustrated he was that they weren’t in bloom the whole time we were in Rimule”. Sivora and Tia both looked up at the cleric and then down to the mound before them. Sivora put a hand on Tia’s shoulder, saying “Perhaps it’s his way of saying thanks.” Sivora backed away and moved to Duncan’s side, giving the girl some space and relative privacy.

Tia sat on the mound, gently crying. The lovers Duncan and Sivora were still within earshot of the girl and heard her next words clearly through the tears. “Then you are truly gone to your god, Valestis? I will never look into your eyes again. I will never again feel your arms wrapped around me, protecting, but silently asking to be protected at the same time.” Tia stopped, her tears flowing more freely and her voice cracking with emotion. “I will never marry you and share the joy of our bodies. I will never give you the son you deserve so much…” The girl stayed on the ground, her face wet with tears and rain. “You did love me, didn’t you, Valestis.” She smiled. It was the first true smile anyone had seen on her face since they had been forced from Rimule. “I know you wouldn’t upset the ranger’s god by putting these flowers here now for just anybody, right?”

Sivora’s lower lip had been quivering since Tia had begun naming the things she would not be able to share with her love. Fresh tears had formed in her eyes and slowly made their way down her face. Duncan reached a hand to his lover and she took it quickly, really looking at him for the first time on this outing. Her tough demeanor broke and she buried her face in his chest, crying fiercely. “Oh Duncan,” she whispered. She said nothing else. She did not have to. The cleric gathered her frame within his and squeezed gently, running his fingers through her red hair.

Sivora looked up in time to see Tia place all the lilies she picked earlier directly onto the mound. The hard woman gathered her composer and with Duncan’s help, wiped the emotions from her face. As Tia left the ring of flowers, the rain stopped and the clouds parted. The sun shone on the patch of earth where the paladin had been taken from them. A rainbow descended from the heavens over their heads. Tia looked up and said “Your welcome, my love.” She turned to Duncan and Sivora, who both stood dumbfounded at the sight. “We can leave whenever you’re ready,” She said, “and I don’t need to come back”.

As the trio walked away, Tia slid between the other two, grabbing each by an arm and said “You know; you two would make a great couple. You should think about getting together for some drinks or a meal by yourselves to get to know each other better. I think Val would agree”. Both Duncan and Sivora just laughed a little, not knowing whether or not the girl knew the truth of her words or was just playing the matchmaker. 1991.10.20 (RP) All Hands

You are standing in the city square. You, Duncan, and Gun have decided to have dinner with Raven today in one of the outdoor establishments to enjoy the last days before fall turns to winter. You’ve been training all day and worked up a hell of an appetite. While you and Duncan sparred, Gun practiced strange dance moves, and then punched his way through bricks collected from dilapidated buildings. Raven has gotten a job serving tables in spite of Tia offering to pay for her to vacation a while longer.

“Working will give me a feeling of makin’ progress, darlin’. I got to get my life re-started someday. You aren’t the only one that needs to start livin’ again.”

“You look fabulous my dear,” Gun told her. The monk was without his leather overcoat, but still sporting his dark shaded eyewear. He hugged the woman and she kissed him on the cheek. Similar greetings followed for everyone. She was wearing a tight white outfit with a green skirt and green suspenders. Her new job was only days so far, she had to earn her way into the more profitable nighttime slots. What she was wearing is typical bartender fair over at the place she worked, The Sausage Factory. They specialized in condensed meats. You thought it wasn’t that bad, but the guys didn’t really go for it. Raven seemed to like being right in the middle of it all though.

You sit down to eat and enjoy a leisurely meal. Then you hear it. From the city gates, you hear a bell ring. Then another. About fifty feet to your right, a man clambers up a ladder to a bell and begins to ring furiously. Then another bell sounds towards the southern end of town. Men are grabbing up sheathed weapons and torches and rushing to the city gates. They are not official soldiers, but more of a militia.

Duncan grabs a passer-by. “What is going on?”

“It’s an attack on the city. If you have weapons, you need to help us.”

We rush to the front of the city. There is a mass of unorganized and poorly armed men standing at the front. Most of them are shaking. All of them have a weapon of some sort, but only half have torches. A pack, no an army, of gnolls is massing about one hundred yards away. It’s hard to tell because they are staying in the tree line, making it harder to visually distinguish their number. You rush to the few men in uniform standing in front.

“I am Sergeant Gold. I am the military advisor here in Belfort. These parts have an unusually high concentration of creature-like clans, goblins, gnolls, and orcs. They are more organized societies than I have ever seen in other parts and they are bent on conquer, not just looting. Once in a while, they will sack a city, then we will be liberated by the king’s army, but not before they ravage our storehouses and kill a lot of citizens.”

“The army doesn’t have as many people conscripted as in the other kingdoms. It is a volunteer army in Dai-Rynn. Most of us are required to defend our own homes. Oh shit, here comes the first wave….”

A pack of twenty gnolls charge. They are armed with a combination of battle axes and longswords. They all wear rough looking scale mail and carry large wooden shields. You guess this is a first wave meant to intimidate the militia. There are likely as many as twice that waiting for the second wave. There are no mounts and no archers on either side. It’s time to get dirty.

Check vs. Knowledge: Strategy. DC 15. 100 xp. You notice a platoon of six axe- wielding gnolls moving around the main force of 20. You correctly assume they will try to flank the main defense. You grab Duncan and Gun and head to meet them head on.

Fight #1 2,700 xp /3 = 900 xp each

After you behead the last one, you turn your attention back to the militia. You are surprised that they have taken down more gnoll than the beasts have citizens. They must be more used to this than you originally assumed. We run to join the fight.

Fight #2 2,700 xp /3 = 900 xp each

As we defeat the last subgroup of gnolls, another wave washes towards us. This one is not larger than the first. The commander of the gnoll forces knows his tactics; he is avoiding the diminishing returns of throwing his entire force at the militia. The bells are still ringing and you notice more men, who are better armed and armored, joining the battle to fill in the ranks. Priest of Pelor bend over men dragged from the front. Some are beyond the healers, but others are able to rejoin the fray. You can get to them in two rounds, get healed, and get back to the fight in two rounds. The gnolls are not employing any flanking maneuvers this time, it is a straight rush. Dive into the fray. A subgroup of gnolls attacks our team.

Fight #3 2,700 xp /3 = 900 xp each

After fighting and fighting, fatigue is beginning to set it. You look back at the tree line. There are fewer snarls and growls. You think the bands must be diminishing.

“We don’t have to kill them all.” Gold has a large gash in his forehead, but is still skewering a gnoll captain. “They join forces to attack, but if we can hold them off long enough the treaty will dissolve in front of your eyes and they will scatter. Makes them harder to pursue. It shouldn’t be much longer. Keep it up!”

Just as he finishes speaking a clan leader has joined the fray. He is not wearing the scale mail of the others, but a half-plate. He also wields a greatsword and carries no shield. He is slaying men on the front one at a time. You decide to challenge him head on. He has two bodyguards with him that are similarly armored, both attacking with halberds.

Fight #4

2,100 xp /3 = 700 each

You’ve defeated the gnoll invaders. Gain 1,500 xp (500 each).

When you defeat the captain and his bodyguards, the mass at the trees break and run. The remaining forces scramble and the citizens go about finishing off the unconscious gnolls left on the battleground. Gold removes his helmet he claimed from one of the fallen and walks over to you. He is still bleeding, but now smiling. He is about as old as Raven, early 30’s, with golden hair and brown eyes. He two inches shorter than Sivora, but is stocky. He’s almost built like a dwarf fighter instead of a man. His armor is covered in blood. He definitely leads by example. You saw him strike down another captain like the one you killed shortly before the second wave attacked.

“By Pelor you were a force out there. If you hadn’t stopped that flanking maneuver, we’d have lost twice our number. These are not trained soldiers, being engaged from both sides would have weakened our ability to heal the wounded safely during the battle. What are your names?”

“Well met. Like I said briefly, I am Mathius Gold. I am a sergeant in the army for Dai-Rynn, assigned to Belfort to train the militia and handle problems like this one.”

“This duty does not go unrewarded. All of your wounds will be tended to by our healers and we will give you a commission for each kill you collected. Fifty gold a head. That and you are exempt from any taxation on that wage.”

You report to him that you took down 21 heads plus the captain and his guards.

“Those count more. The captains are tribal leaders who assemble these clans into fighting forces. Kind of a coalition if you will. As you witnessed, when the leader falls, the coalition dissolves. The leaders are just brave enough to attack last, knowing that if they retreat they will be killed and eaten by their followers. Better to die on one of our swords, I suppose.”

In total we will receive 2,700 gold. Split 3 ways is 950 each. It is the largest payment made to anyone in two years. He tells us to come by the guard tower tomorrow to collect our fee. If we ask about bringing proof, he replies “No need. I won’t forget your performance no matter how drunk I get tonight at the Halberd. I think I’ve seen you all there, haven’t I? Why don’t I add a bonus and buy you all a bunch of rounds? Granted, I drink free at all the establishments, but as my guests, so will you!”

Conversation at the Halberd.

“Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, these melees don’t occur often. I’d say this victory probably dissuaded a few goblin and orc clans from charging. If we had taken heavier losses, I’d say another was imminent, but thanks to you, we should have the spring to rest easy. They probably worked all winter for this assault. Idle hands do the devil’s work, you know. Since we didn’t see any food raids during the coldest months, we should have been better prepared.”

“But enough about battle. Now it is time to enjoy the fruits of victory. We will gather all the weapons and send them to Belois for sale. Any armor that is salvageable as well. That is how we finance our militia. Congratulations, my new friends. I hope you are around when we have to do it again!”

It is strange to think that life could return to normal after a full attack as you just participated in, but people who were covered in blood just an hour before are now raising mugs to their performances in the tavern. This is a surreal way of life on this wooded frontier. It’s almost like a game. You did notice fear in the defenders when you joined them, but as the battle waged the jitters ceased and they fought for their homes. It will take a hell of an invasion force to ever conquer this city, or this land. If an invading army has to suffer this at every town, god help them.

You drain a fifth mug and look over at Duncan. He’s looking yummy. Now out of his armor, his arms are pumped with blood from all the action. His face is crusted with dried blood, making him look even more rugged than usual. He’s pulled his blonde hair back into a clasp because it needs to have the guts washed out of it. So does yours. He meets your gaze and gives you a wry grin. After a nice bath, you know there will be one more engagement with a formidable foe tonight, but at the end of this one, it doesn’t matter which side comes out on top. It’s all good. Hell, you are feeling so good after flexing your mind and your muscles; you might just spend the night. 1991.11.15 (RP) An Innocent Man

You wake from a good night’s sleep. You’ve been in Belfort for just over two months, and life was beginning to resemble something less painful than constant torture. You got out of bed and crossed to the chair where your clothes were. You were going to have to start leaving a nightdress here in Duncan’s room. His was one of the few that had a window, and you were starting to get paranoid thinking about all the eyes that could be on you when you got up in the morning. You get your shirt on and that covers you enough. Before you can get a leg into your pants, the cleric is behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

“I know how you hate to say good-bye, but I am starting to think you are using me for sex.” He playfully whispered. You wiggle out of his grasp. He smiles at you easily and you think of how many other soldiers you’ve been with that are interchangeable with this one. More than you counted, but not really all that many. Not compared to the lists that Raven or even young Tia could boast, though theirs was for entirely different reasons. You gave him a look. You had picked a good one to use for this purpose. He not only could keep up with your stamina, but matched you in strength and aggressiveness. But he did what few others had, he asked about you and in the night when you woke up, his arms had not moved from around you. You liked that at the time, but it always felt constricting in the morning. Like now. Now you had to leave.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked, reading your discomfort and knowing that the nightly spell was broken.

You had finally worked your way into an interview at the bounty office. The local garrison was controlled at the capital and in order to join you would have to submit to their placement of you. You weren’t ready for that. Over the last few days, you were really starting to get used to giving orders, not taking them. That and you really were starting to feel like a part of this group. You remember how your older sister never really accepted the more masculine parts of you and never invited you to her outings. Once she discovered boys, forget it. Ha. You had bedded more men than that pretty fool could ever dream of. You run your fingers through you hair. The red gets them every time.

You decide to look your best, having a bath and then polishing your armor to a dull shine. You sheath your great sword on your belt and proceed to the bounty master’s office. The man was as many in his business are, an older adventurer, probably a hunter himself or a former soldier like you. He has white hair, but is not much more than twice your age, just prematurely grey. Maybe it was like this all along. He keeps it closely sheared so it stands up from his head. He has blue eyes and is handsome in a rugged way, although that may just be his position of authority. You always liked being in charge, but you didn’t mind releasing control either.

“Landrin, is that right?”

“I’m Scar.” It was pretty obvious where he got this name. On his neck and continuing under his shirt was a tremendous pink and white line of tissue. It wrapped from the back of his right ear, across his jaw, down to the front of his neck, and down his chest. He probably didn’t want to talk about how he survived such a stroke, if he survived it at all. You hoped that you never had to be raised. It creeps you out. You wanted to go out like the Red Knight, taken when you had nothing more to accomplish.

“What is your background? I see you are well armed and your armor doesn’t look like it is without experience, but I also don’t want to send a rookie into this world and have your death on my head.”

“I don’t pay hunters a regular salary, I pay you per case. The more heinous the crime, the more you get. Also the more hunters the object kills, the more you get paid. Risk reward.”

“I’ll give you a license once you complete your first bounty. It should be an easy one. This guy has no place else to go. We have on good authority that a former soldier raped a local girl and fled to his home of Pirgos. The law doesn’t cooperate around here, so the constable in Pirgos isn’t going to waste his time with this one. The family put a bounty on the boy with me, and now I am handing it to you. The kid’s name is Yannesh. Description is about your height, brown hair, and brown eyes. Carries a longsword and says it is from his days as a soldier. Bring him back and then you’ll get your license and the reward, 500 gold. I charge the family 10% from the top, but you don’t have to worry about that. Make sense? Any questions?”

The day has gotten late and you decide to leave for Pirgos the next day. The bard is making a living for himself over there, you know because he has plenty of money to spend on ink and parchment for his letters. Still trying to pry open Tia’s legs with words. Bah.

Retiring to the local cantina where you also have a room, you see Duncan already seated at your regular table. He’s with Raven.

“Hi there, sugar. How’d the interview go? Are you gainfully employed?”

“I heard about that. The family is supposed to be somewhat well to do. Girl hasn’t been seen in a while. Probably beat her up or something. Poor thing.”

“While you are over there, you should look up that pretty little bard. I bet he’s hooked into the scene. If there is a lecher over there, he’ll know him if only for the competition.”

You retire first, making your excuses why you need to leave early in the day. Duncan takes the hint, the one thing you will always respect about him. He lets you come to him, just making himself available. He enjoys the time with you, but doesn’t press. You get the feeling that he doesn’t want anything serious, which is a relief, but a little insulting. What’s wrong with you? Why doesn’t he chase you like the bard chases Tia? Or Raven for that matter? Ugh, stupid feminine brain. This is what you want. Shut up already!

The next morning you are about to leave your room when there is a knock. Since you were leaving anyway, you open it.

Standing before you is a man of 40. He’s got a sad look on his face. He is dressed well and does not carry any weapons. His hair is gone from the dome of his head.

“Are you Landrin, the new hunter?” he asks. You know he’s not Yannesh.

“My daughter is the one who was attacked. She carries the child of this monster now. It happened many months ago, but now we know that she is with child. Please, catch this beast. He has a jeweled pendant I gave her for her 15th birthday. It is made of a sunstone. If you return it, I will double the reward. You must understand the extent of the anguish he’s put on my daughter. Nine moons will she have to remember and relive this attack until we can ship the bastard child off to a monastery and hope they can eliminate the evil that it will surely inherit its father.”

He leaves after you ask him any questions. Something about his speech seemed rehearsed. Maybe because he practiced it so often on his way to see you. You assumed he checked every day, maybe more than once per day, to see if the attacker had been brought to justice.

You leave for Pirgos. It is a half a day’s ride from Belfort, keeping either city from growing too large. There is competition for entertainment, shopping, and even sport between the two cities. They are rivals to each other as a pair of brothers born too close together. The town is as Zander had described it. The architecture was not as much brick as limestone and clay. It was meant to look like marble, but it didn’t. It looked like white mud. The streets were dirt, but it did qualify for a city. The layout was eerily like Belfort, but the largest difference was the gladiator ring in town instead of outside. Pirgos did boast a city champion that had three city titles. Their time was spent defending their titles and counting their riches. You had never seen a game; you arrived in Belfort during the holy month at the end of the summer honoring Pelor and the rest that he takes during winter. They would start up again soon. That would be a good way to get out some of this anxiety, and probably a more healthy way than sharing your bed with Duncan. Why are you thinking of him again? You have a job to do.

To seek out Zander

According to his last letter, Zander was working at a bar called the Four Brothers. It was run by two surviving brothers, Sonny and Michael. The other two had passed away strangely and it was whispered that their money was not made through the tavern’s coffers, but through more sinister means. The two brothers disregarded this and were very popular in spite of the rumor mongering. Michael was young and handsome and Sonny was fiery and full of passion for the gentler sex. As expected, Sonny and Zander became fast friends.

Zander was eating a late lunch after his midday set when you walk in. You assumed his might actually pay for this meal because his tip-jar was full of silver and copper. Must have been a large female crowd this afternoon. He doesn’t even notice you. You see the object of this obsession. Standing over next to the bar, still burdened with her traveling pack, was the loveliest creature you’d ever seen. Long blonde hair flowed down her back. She was thin and delicate. Her curves were pronounced under w white, silk dress that hung perfectly on her small frame. She had a great ass. She must have been asking for directions, because Sonny was pointing out the door. As her gaze followed, you spotted her big green eyes and a pointed ear peek out from her platinum locks. An elf. Figures. This was not the first time you’d seen an elf, but the first time you’d seen one so beautiful. You were used to the warriors, and most of them were men. They were skillful lovers, and you knew that the bard must be familiar by the way he could not tear his eyes away. I guess pretty little Tia just got some competition. Well, he’ll save a fortune on ink. The siren left as easily as she had entered, and the spell was broken. Zander looked up at you and resumed chewing the meat he’d put in his mouth two minutes before.

After you make yourself at home and make some small talk, the man who was giving directions to the elf maiden walks over.

“Tam ole buddy, this one’s out of your league. She’s way too much woman for skinny little you to handle. Why don’t you let me?”

You are a little outraged at the supposition, but still like being treated as an object of desire. Sonny looked like he could handle the best you had to offer. He’s 6’4” and weighs about 250. He must have been a bitch to give birth to. His face is almost unattractive, but his easy smile offsets the freckles and odd shaped face. His hair is curly and as orange as the first dawn. His eyes are brown and staring at your chest. Your own eyes check him out from head to toe and you notice the thoughts of the elf hadn’t left him. That or he regularly kept a sleeve of thirty gold coins stored in his crotch.

“Our kids would have the most amazing coif of hair.” He reaches for your hand to kiss.

“Yeah, I know him. He comes in a few nights a week. Probably here when he’s not at the other two taverns in town. He usually keeps to himself though. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a womanizer. I’m not sure where he lives, but Michael, my brother, probably knows. He keeps tabs on that kind of thing. Likes to put his nose in other people’s business. Why don’t I talk to him and you come back later tonight? Face-man here will be singing and there’s no cover for ladies with big swords.”

You return that night and Sonny is at the door. He’s dressed much better than this afternoon and you assume he’s bathed. His shirt is made of thick cotton and you notice that he has a very broad chest. Sonny is a picture of masculinity, and you were a little turned on by him. OK, a lot. You hoped this little weasel of a bounty gave you some trouble, so you could work out this sexual frustration. He smiles at you and kisses you on both cheeks as you enter.

“Sivora, it’s been too long. Thanks for coming, doll. Mikey’s in the back, but he’ll be out shortly. He says he knows where to find your boy.”

Michael is the polar opposite of Sonny. He is mousey and not masculine. Maybe he doesn’t like girls? His hair is as dark as Raven’s and his has brown eyes too. He has a soft face that is more likely a result of his older brother caring for him and his avoidance of anything resembling work in his short life. You guessed he was a few years younger than you, maybe 18. You can tell he is intelligent, his eyes were sharp and absorbed every detail of a scene. He greets you with the same kisses that Sonny gave you.

“Your boy is living in a house with some other former soldiers. Four in all. They all served together in Northwind. Vontiff, I think. Spent some time on the front, but came back before their time. Most likely deserters. Yannesh is the runt of the litter, but the others fancy themselves as wise guys. They are trying to qualify for the games and usually practice by picking fights.”

Sonny and Michael cannot offer any assistance other than information. They have a neutrality to keep in town and can’t be associated with other town’s bounty hunters. They also suggest that you leave Zander out of any scraps due to the fact that he’ll lose value to you if he’s seen fighting by your side. You can enlist the crew to join you or go in alone.

If you send for your crew:

They will arrive by the next night assuming that the courier does his job. He is a man who works for Sonny as a runner. You paid him twice a normal fee (4 gold) to deliver the message to Duncan in his room. You were reluctant to ask him for help, but charging 4 armed men wasn’t strategic. You needed someone to go in the front with you while someone else covered the back. Zander would back you up, but not be seen as suggested.

Sonny spends the night chatting you up. As more ales slide down your throat, you don’t squirm away from his advances.

“Why don’t we retire to my home? It’s close by and more quiet. We will still be able to hear the bard sing if we leave the windows open. I have a fine bottle of elven spirits I’ve been waiting to share with someone as deserving as you.”

If you go to Sonny’s house:

The elven wine was a little too strong. You wake up, bare naked, and lying on Sonny’s couch with a blanket in a heap on the floor. You stretch and don’t see your host anywhere. Your clothes are piled in the floor next to what he was wearing last night. You check yourself for any unusual soreness or stains. Nope, you must have controlled yourself. You do remember that Sonny was very well endowed. Huge. You blush a little thinking about it. If he’d have stuck that in your ass, you might not be able to fight today. And you were going to fight today. With or without Duncan and Gun. Duncan. Oh dammit, why did you have to think about him? This is what you do! It was great. He filled your appetite and your pussy. You get dressed and let yourself out. Sonny is still nowhere to be found. The perfect man, he’s not around to feel awkward or to gape at you the next morning.

You busy yourself away from the Four Brothers, hoping not to run into your latest lover. You do scout your target location. One entrance, but windows on the back of the building. One level. Looks like three rooms, a living room, and two bedrooms. Just glancing in the windows, you see the living room is a pig sty. It will be close quarters for a fight, but you’ve had worse. The ceiling is plenty high enough for a killing stroke from your great sword. You and Duncan will make short work of this place. Duncan, you think. STOP IT!

Duncan and Gun arrive around dusk. Everyone exchanges pleasantries. Duncan notices you are acting more distant. You are starting to feel ashamed for following your old instincts. You’ll deal with it later.

You approach the house. The candles are burning and it looks like everyone is home. You decide who will go in with you and who will over the back. Break down the door. Wooden Simple and locked (13 DC vs. STR check. Take 10 or 20 + STR). Sivora is first and can speak or attack first. Two of the soldiers are in the living room, and the others are in a bedroom to the right. Yannesh is in the bedroom, he won’t fight.

Soldiers - 3 INI: 1 1 4 AC: 17 (Banded Mail, Dex) 17 (Banded Mail, Dex) 19 (Half-Plate, Large Shield) LVL: 5 5 7 HP: 25 25 45 ATT: Longsword +8 (BAB+5,STR+2,WF+1) Longsword +10/+5 (BAB+7,STR+2,WF+1) DMG: 1d8+2 (STR +2) 1d8+4 (STR +2, Focus +2) ATR: S14,D12,C12,I9,W8,C8 S15,D10,C12,W12,C12 CR: 5 5 7 XP: 1,500 1,500 3,000

If you didn’t call in the troops.

You can break down the door. Wooden Simple and locked (13 DC vs. STR check. Take 10 or 20 + STR). One soldier is in the living room and attacks. There is another in the bedroom with Yannesh. Yannesh won’t fight.

Soldiers - 3 INI: 1 1 4 AC: 17 (Banded Mail, Dex) 16 (Banded Mail, Dex) 19 (Half-Plate, Large Shield) LVL: 5 5 7 HP: 25 25 45 ATT: Longsword +8 (BAB+5,STR+2,WF+1) MW Longsword +11/+6 (BAB+7,STR+2,WF+1) DMG: 1d8+2 (STR +2) 1d8+5 (STR +2, Focus +2,Magic +1) ATR: S14,D12,C12,I9,W8,C8 S15,D10,C12,W12,C12 CR: 5 5 7 XP: 1,500 1,500 3,000

You walk over to the scared man. He is skinnier than you though he’d be, obviously not in the same class as you or his friends you just laid open.

“Please, stop. Whatever they did, it’s paid for now. Please don’t kill me for something I didn’t do! There is gold in the other room. It’s in a chest. The key is on the body of Gordon, the armored man you slew. Please don’t hurt me.”

If you search the premises, you find 1,000 gold and a Longsword+1 that the leader used against you.

A DC 15 sense motive check will determine that he’s lying. 100 xp

If at any time you discover he’s lying, then you can cuff him and knock him out. 300 xp for recovering the bounty. Divide by party if used.

If questioned, he will admit to knowing the girl (Bonnelia), but will deny raping her. He says the father hates him and she’s carrying his child willingly. He can’t get passed the father to get her out of his home. He was hoping to convince his buddies to help him storm in and take her, but they didn’t care about his misfortune. If you ask him for the pendant, he will produce it and say it was a gift. If Zander is present, a DC 15 Appraise check will notice it’s been repaired. If not, Sivora can try (good luck). 100xp for noticing the damage. If you ask about the damage, he will look at you strangely. Now a DC 10 sense motive check will determine that he’s lying. 50 xp.

It is late and it is no time to go back to Belfort. You go back to the Four Brothers and ask for Sonny. He says that he can put Yannesh up for the night where no one will see him (if you are helping him or caging him). Duncan and Gun will secure rooms in the inn where you said you stayed last night.

If you slept with Sonny “Hey there gorgeous. Sorry about this morning, but you looked like you could use the rest. You were working pretty hard last night. Hope it didn’t bother you? I hope that you are in the mood to work out again tonight. Must have been a hell of a fight!”

If you didn’t sleep with him or didn’t call in the troops “There’s the girl of the hour. How about you taking me up on opening that elven wine as a celebration for your successful capture?”

Describe same sex scene if she accepts his advances.

The next morning, Duncan says nothing, but you can tell he’s been put in his place a little. He’s not the man in your life, and although he pretends not to want to be, he was enjoying the escape from reality as much as you were. Is it a crush on his part? All the soldiers you ever got involved with were just waiting on the next Tia or elf bitch to come and suck their dicks in like a vortex between their legs. You didn’t have the beauty or feminine charms to match their damsel in distress act. Was he different? Were you going to take a chance on him not being like the others, or just dump him before he can dump you? Oh this whole ordeal just pissed you off. You should be celebrating and instead you are contemplating. You do enough of that in battle.

You return with your quarry to Belfort. If you decide to help him, you can ask to see the accuser for a better description. If you turn him in for being a jackass, another 300 xp and 1,000 gold reward (500 from bounty office, 500 from daddy). Sivora also receives a license to be a hunter. 200 xp.

If you talk to the girl, she will tell you that he was indeed a rapist and his friends helped. She hopes they are all dead. You can tell her that you captured him, or you can kill him for her. Killing him and returning the necklace gives you the same experience.

You are feeling accomplished. A good amount of gold in your pocket and you are feeling empowered. You don’t even think about your red-haired admirer in Pirgos. Just a fling, that’s all. You walk into the Bronze Halberd and notice Duncan sitting alone. You look at him. He knows. He knows that you’ve not taken their affair seriously, that you’ve never let him in. He’s just an innocent man in all this. He doesn’t deserve to be strung along. You need to clear the air with him. He’ll understand how you feel. You hope.

“Hey Red. Pull up a chair.”

1992.02.21 In Your Dreams

Tamizander was enjoying a rare, sunny day in the early year in Pirgos. He was resting from a few days adventuring. Although he missed seeing his friends daily, Pirgos was a fine town and he was feeling at home there. The town wasn’t as large as its cousin Belfort to the south, but the people were friendlier and the threats more benign. Whereas Belfort was sometimes besieged for its stores of weapons and food, Pirgos was almost exclusively a traveler’s town and uninteresting to rival creature clans. It was peopled by wandering folk with just a few full time residents to provide the passer-bys food, drink, and entertainment. This last void had been filled by the bard’s considerable talents well. He made as much as ten gold a night for the last month performing in the different taverns in town. He liked to keep them competing for his talents, he was practically the only show in town that drew a crowd on his own. As Steve used to tell him when he played with the Wind, “Competition is good for the purse.” Too bad he was talking about women at the time.

Being a town full of adventurers, the town was rife with contests and gambling on abilities. Zander didn’t often take part, claiming he was a lover and not a fighter. He also didn’t want to alienate a possible customer by defeating him in a test of skill. One such contest was taking place in the square as he walked by, and this contest was particularly interesting. Three people stood in a semi-circle with crossbows. There was a metal mug of ale atop a nearby roof. It wasn’t the contest that was intriguing, it was the contestants. Two of them were men, one in a full suit of armor and the other wearing banded mail over his barrel chest. The third was a slip of a girl who was extremely blonde and extremely beautiful. She had piercing green eyes, a small hourglass figure, and her platinum hair was perfectly tussled, pulled back into a sloppy and seductive pony tail. She was third in line to fire at the mug.

Zander walked over to the contest, hoping to get a word in with this beauty. Perhaps he would get a foot in the door by offering her comfort after an embarrassing defeat. The two other men were obviously professional mercenaries and most likely had skills to match. These men were not frivolous with their gold, so they had to be sure of their success before accepting a challenge. The first man fired and his bolt sailed by the mug, missing it by inches. The other warrior laughed at him, but the girl said nothing. She just focused on the target. Zander’s loins began to ache. Her gorgeous skin and features were so pleasing to his eyes; it was actually physically painful to look upon her. Suddenly she turned to look him right in the eyes. Time froze as they met each other’s gaze. The other man fired and missed the target as well, but the girl still focused on the bard. Zander felt a pool of saliva form at his mouth, it was agape and he was beginning to drool! He snapped out of the trance and wiped his mouth. When he looked back, she was no longer looking at him.

“Do you mind if I say a prayer to my god?” she asked her competitors. Her voice was soft and high pitched. It was as sweet as a child’s. Where is her flaw? As if in the same trance that she’d trapped Zander in just a moment before, they agreed almost absent-mindedly. She knelt to her knees. The cleavage of her full breasts was clearly exposed as she waved her hands in circular patterns. Not a single man’s eyes could be pulled out of that glistening white window to a fleshy heaven. She didn’t make a sound during her impromptu prayer, just made enough movements with her hands and arms to entrance the male audience. She opened her eyes and looked up at the crowd. Standing in one graceful motion, she pulled the large weapon to her shoulder. It looked as if she had stolen the crossbow from a giant, but it was no larger than the ones you saw at shops in town. She was so tiny and adorable. She didn’t have a chance against these brutes and the odds against her supported that.

She fired a single bolt that hit the mug dead center and sent the ale splashing down into the gutters of the roof. A cheer erupted from the crowd. She’d done it! She smiled her bewitching smile and took a quick bow. Her blonde hair fell forward and revealed a slightly pointed ear; an elf maid! She quickly covered the evidence of her heritage with a mass of blonde locks. It was possible that only Zander had noticed the tiny detail. She held out her hand for her payment to the other two men. They must have been supremely confident, because they each handed her more than a few pieces of platinum for her trouble. She pulled up her dress, showing a creamy white leg that was without flaws. A few more inches and she’d have no modesty left before the crowd. Around her thigh was a small pouch where she stored her winnings. You heard her sweet voice again ring in your ears, but your attention was too focused to know what she said. She turned, whirling the white material into the air just above her knees, then departed the scene. Just before she was out of sight, she met Zander’s eyes again for a brief, magical second, and was gone around a corner.

That night, her face (and her ample bosom) was the only thing Zander could think about. He did rush down the street after her that afternoon, but she was nowhere to be found. After snowing those two mercs, he didn’t blame her for skipping town. It was a great con. He knew that ‘prayer’ was nothing more than a spell she cast to help her hit the target. The lack of a vocal component surprised him though; he knew from fighting araneas in a local dungeon that the vocal portion was paramount to getting the True Strike spell to take effect. The sun had set and he was walking across town from his room at the Restless Adventurer to his gig for the night, a bar called The Man-Hole. It catered to wanderers with alternative ideas of companionship. With Zander’s good looks, it was usually the most profitable of his performances. The owner loved him since he brought customers in droves, and there was zero chance of him leaving with one of the patrons.

He hadn’t walked far when he noticed the two gruff mercenaries from this afternoon whispering and pointing down an alley between two establishments. They drew their swords and stepped carefully down the alley. Knowing the intended to ambush the elf, he rushed over to give any aid he could. With his recent adventuring in dank caves and dungeons, his confidence was a bit higher than it maybe should have been. He didn’t have his muscular friends Sivora or Duncan to back him up this time. As he drew his rapier and rushed to the mouth of the alley, he saw the lovely woman trapped between the mercenaries and the wall. She held a kitten in her hands and looked to be trembling.

“Don’t hurt me sirs,” she pleaded, tossing her cat to the ground. “I’ll refund my winnings. I just wanted an honest way to make some coin.” The plea was a ruse, she was standing firm and the shake in her throat was forced. She was no more frightened than these two mercenaries.

“You cheated, lass,” one of the men growled, “and we don’t care for cheats no matter how well formed her breasts may be.”

Zander knew she was in trouble; he’d been in her place many times. Her crossbow was out of reach in a sling across her back, so getting help from her to fight these men was pretty much out of the question. This could end up hurting them both. Oh but she was worth it.

“Leave the girl alone, brutes!” Zander yelled with false bravado. He was wearing his armor since the patrons of the Man-Hole preferred the image of masculinity it provided and tipped better when he wore it. The toughs turned to face the would-be hero and began to menacingly approach. They were bigger than he remembered. He raised the rapier that was beginning to quiver with fear. He wished he could be as ignorantly confident as the elf in the corner. What he wouldn’t give for Sivora to come swinging in on a rope with that greatsword and cleave these two in half. Then he looked between the two menaces and saw the elf waving her hands furiously and concentrating. Her green eyes flashed open and her face held anger and contempt. It was like looking into the eyes of an angry lioness; she was equal parts beautiful and ferocious.

“Now you will know my wrath!” she screamed in a much lower voice. Her dress fell from her shoulders and fell to her waist where only her belt kept it from dropping to the earth. The upper half of her magnificent naked body was exposed to the world. Her skin changed to a golden tint and two leathery wings stretched out from behind her thin shoulders. Her hair split to reveal a spiny black ridge and fangs protruded from her open mouth and a tail slithered out of the bottom of her white gown. She was a half-dragon! She beat her wings to take flight a few feet from the ground. All three witnesses stood in awe of this awe-inspiring, avenging angel. She screamed a verse in draconic. A heartbeat later, one of the attackers screamed as electricity coursed through his body starting from the ground and coursing upward through him instantly. His armor glowed blue and snapped with the current while the hair on his head and arms stood on end from the blast. The attack didn’t come from her hand, breath, or weapon she held; it seemed to strike him at her will. He staggered on his weakened left leg and dropped his sword and shield.

“Leave this place before you feel the full power of my vengeance, animals! I do not prefer the taste of men, but I will devour you out of principle!” she threatened and the mercenaries obeyed. They pushed past Zander and ran. The bard was frozen. She was still beautiful, but now terrible. Could it be that she was a celestial being? No, you’d seen her elven ears. Elves did not reproduce in this way, at least not that you’d ever heard. When she landed, her feet met the ground clumsily and she stumbled. Her skin color faded back to a flesh tone. Realizing she still had a pair of eyes on her, she turned her bare breasts away from Zander’s astounded gaze and completed her retransformation. He watched as her tail and wings folded in on themselves and then disappeared. They vanished not into her body, but into thin air. Another spell! She slid her arms into the holes of her dress and pulled it back up to its designed position. Zander was still dumbstruck by this most unusual turn of events. Then he felt something against his calves. Her little champagne colored cat was rubbing against him and purring loudly. He reached down and scooped up the small animal.

“She likes you,” Zander heard her say. She was right on top of him, looking up at him from the level of his chest. “Hope all this didn’t frighten you too much. Drastic measures and all that. I appreciate the bravery you showed.” She reached out to pet the cat in his arms and brushed his hand in the process. Her touch was as light as a feather. The skin on his hand barely registered the sensation, but he wanted desperately for it to happen again.

“It’s no problem, I meant to lend a hand against the brutes, but you scared the fight right out of them.” Zander responded when he found his voice. She smiled shyly at him. ‘Keep stroking her ego’ he thought. He reached another hand around to pet the cat next to where she was, intending to return the incidental contact, but she’d pulled her hand away. She looked up at him with a pouty gaze and stretched out her hands towards the feline.

“Would you mind if I took my pussy and left now?” she said point-blank. When she said ‘pussy’, Zander almost lost what was left of his mind. Beautiful and talks dirty! Perhaps she wasn’t a dragon or an angel, but she had come to him straight from heaven!

“What will you give me for her?” Zander teased. “I warn you, I can’t settle for anything less than a kiss. She’s too valuable.” His biggest smile was mounted on his handsome face. He had his charm turned up to full blast. It took a strong woman to resist him, but unfortunately he couldn’t con the con-woman. She took a couple of steps back, moving her hands back and forth. Zander’s smile disappeared, but before he could take back the playful threat, the cat pawed at his face and felt a blast of electricity course through his cheek, into his teeth, and through his brain. It wasn’t enough to hurt him badly, but it was enough to get the girl’s point across. He lost track of the animal when he was shocked, but when the spots faded he saw it had returned to the feet of her master.

The look on the young woman’s face was devilish and flirtatious. She sauntered over to the bard, exaggerating the swing of her hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts into his chest, and pulled a smooth leg up around his waist. Her body was so warm and wonderful. She met his lips with hers and he felt her tongue reach deep into his mouth and console his aching molars. The softness of the flesh combined with the strength of the embrace threw all of his senses into a tizzy of ecstasy and confusion. His head swirled and his legs went weak. She withdrew from the kiss, but buried her head down into his chest, still embracing him tightly. With his eyes still closed and his senses still tingling with sexual anticipation he forced his voice from his throat. “A name?” he begged. She ran her fingers through his hair, grasped him by his brown locks, and pulled his ear to her slightly parted lips. “Raina,” she whispered in a sexy, breathy voice. He felt her release her grip, leaving the bard dazed from the encounter in the state of weak ecstasy usually reserved for a post-coital collapse. When he opened his eyes and turned around, she was gone.

The elf wasn’t that old, he knew this from his experiences living among them. She was probably very close to his age in years, but that was just barely out of her youth for her kind. There were light footprints in the dirt road, but he didn’t bother following them, knowing she didn’t want to be found. He might never see the blonde siren again, but her bare-breasted, half-naked body would be the picture in his mind for perhaps the rest of the sexual encounters in his life. He couldn’t imagine a better example of feminine perfection. She had the bravery of Sivora in her veins, the innocence and youth of Tia on her body and face, and she would never age or be affected by gravity like Raven during his lifetime. This was the woman that was worth his love and his adoration.

“Now I know how the poor, helpless lasses feel with me!” he spoke aloud to the night. “I would lay on my deathbed to touch the heaven of such a kiss from her lips again. Would it be that her virtue is given as easily as her embrace? I pray to Milil that I will encounter Raina again in my living days and find out for myself!”

He gathered his wits and walked out of the alley and back towards the Man-hole. The woman’s kiss never left his mind. He finished his set well beyond midnight. The crowd loved the change in his demeanor, his tunes were filled with romance and longing. The deep seated emotion suited his talents more than the fast tunes that ladies and gents liked to drink to. When Zander finished splitting his tips with the owner, he walked out the exit in the back and noticed Rod, the chef, bending over a plate of meat scraps. Waiting patiently for the gift was a champagne colored cat.

“Could that be the same?” he thought. He looked down at the animal which returned his look with a cheerful meow. Then, the creature winked at him! “Holy shit, it is!” Zander was sure that was the same animal that belonged to his elven angel. Perhaps she hadn’t flown back to heaven on snowy wings after all; she even seemed to be following him.

“Wonders be praised, this has been a strange and wonderful night, Rod.” Zander said as he clapped the man on the back. “This little lady eats on me whenever she comes around, ya hear?” He stuffed a couple of silver coins into the pocket of the man’s jacket.

“You’re getting’ pretty desperate for pussy, Zander,” Rod said laughing. “Maybe it’s time you started considering your other options. I don’t think this blue eyed beast can give you the love you want.”

“Maybe,” Zander conceded, scratching the cat down its back to its black ringed tail, “but maybe she has a guardian angel that’s looking for a good time.” He smiled without bothering to look for her. Raina had made herself known to him and that was enough. Now it is time to go home, sleep, and bed the immortal beauty…in his dreams. 1992.03.14

13 Ever do Battle with a Minotaur?

The sack slammed heavily on the counter. A few gold coins escaped the mouth and jingled onto the thick oak tabletop. They rolled and rolled in circles around each other until they came to rest.

"I'd like to make a small deposit," said the warrior behind a dirt and blood stained grin.

"Been treasure huntin', Sivora?" asked Scar, the gruff looking man on the other side of the table. "Looks like it pays better than rounding up scumbags for the local richies." Not only did Scar run the local bounty office and represent the closest thing to a real life lawman in the town of Belfort, but he was also the local treasurer. Years ago when the town wasn't much more than a collection of tents behind a stone wall, he'd had an idea to bring all of their gold and valuables together into a single, reinforced building of stone and mortar, the first building in Belfort. It was made to be impenetrable from the outside and would take a dedicated band of gold dwarves to tunnel under. If (and when) bandits came to town, the treasury was the first and only building that would need to be protected. Everything else could be replaced easily with the valuables stored inside.

Sivora blew back a long, matted auburn strand from her eye. "You know it, handsome. Rounded up some boys and cleaned out that church basement about two days outside of town. Lots of nasties in there, and plenty of leftovers from some of the spelunkers that just weren't quite good enough."

"Well, you know I've got to take a fee off the top to protect this loot. Cost you 5 gold a month for a room." That was typical of Scar, always getting the unpleasantness of business out of the way quick. She liked his direct style. Sivora pulled a small bulging sack from her belt.

"This should do it for the next year, doll," she said, dropping a purse of gems on the table next to the gold and platinum. "Never was one for all that sparkly stuff. Give me something that was forged by a hammer, not a mountain."

"Yes, ma'am, that ought to do it," Scar replied with a smile. "And I assume you are paying for that lot behind you too?"

"Yup, split that sack into four lots and put it under each name," Sivora told him. "If Raven or Sugar come by, give 'em a hard time, but give 'em what they need. Got it?"

"As you wish," Scar replied with a bow, writing on his parchment. "It's gonna take me the rest of the night to count this."

"Awww, I'll buy ya a jug after you're done," she promised. "Wouldn't want you makin' any mistakes."

The crew retired to their rooms for a change of clothes and a bath. They'd been dungeon diving for nearly a week, driving out undead spirits and multi-headed monsters that would make a normal townsperson shit himself and die of fright. The fire breathing hydra was the worst, but they'd made it out alive and were much richer for their troubles. Before splitting up, they'd promised later that evening to celebrate their victories over a grand meal and many pints of ale.

Raven had rented out the entire dining room of the tavern for her friends. They sat at a long table that was ornately decorated with long candles, silver plates, and silk napkins. Most of it came from the Mayor's house, although he wasn't around anymore. Belfort wasn't the best town for increasing one's political might. Also, being a rather old man with a young daughter, the traveling adventurers weren't good for her celibacy either. When he left, the garrison captain, Sgt. Mathius Gold, had taken over most of the political duties, but there weren't many to uphold. Between him, Scar, and the band sitting around the table, law was upheld and most threats were staved off.

Raven brought out the boar and the table got rowdy. Even Gun, who was usually reserved, was in a festive mood. He pushed back his chair and raised his mug to speak.

"There should be no greater celebration than when oppression is defeated and life is defended. A hero is one that fights the battle because he values the life that he saves. One that lunges in inviting death is more fool than hero. We fought together and defended each other and prevented those creatures from claiming other lives. We have served our gods and each other well. Let us drink to those who live, and then let us drink to those did not."

"That's a lot of drinking, monk!" roared Duncan. He was in a very good mood. "I don't want to find you in my bed come sunrise."

"I've never known you to be that lucky," Gun replied quickly. When the laughter died down, they all raised their mugs to each other, toasted, and drank greedily. They craved life, and they showed it unconditionally.

Between the second and third course, there came a knock at the door. The establishment owner, Jerran, stuck his head in.

"'Scuse me good sirs, but there's a lady here to see you," he said somewhat timidly. Although he owned the Belfort tavern, since hiring Raven it seemed more like she managed him than the other way around, and she'd left strict instructions not to be disturbed no matter how much it sounded like a battle inside the dining hall.

"Always room for one more, my good man!" Tamizander shouted. "That is, if she's cute. Or skinny. Or young…"

"Or breathing!" Sivora shouted at him. "PIG!"

"BULL!" he shouted back. Artist or not, Zander was not afraid to trade blows. He was not ready for when Duncan kicked his chair so hard it shattered the leg, leaving the bard rubbing his head where it met the stone floor.

"Show her in, honey," Raven said. "If we don’t like her, we'll send her back."

Just then, a thin, young, and very cute blonde woman walked through the door. No, glided through. She wore a white dress so thin it seemed like you should be able to see more of her than you could. She had a small cat in her arms and a crossbow across her back. Her face was like that of an angel and her emerald green eyes were large and innocent. She immediately looked to Zander on the floor. The cat leapt from her arms, trotted to him, and began to lick his head and purr loudly. Raven looked her up one side and down the other.

"We don't like her," she said.

"Don't be like that, Raven," Tia scolded. Being young and beautiful herself, she didn't give into jealousy as easily. "What's your name?"

"I am Raina," she said sweetly. "Raina Jade of Cairfawn. My mother was Awain of the Evergreen clan. I am a solitary sorceress looking for a group with which to grow my fame and skill."

At the mention of her mother's clan, all eyes went to her elven ears. The outline of the points could be barely seen through the thick golden trusses she had pulled back in a clasp. Her body was that of a woman, curved and strong, but her skin and features were delicate and soft and seemed to glow even in the dimly lit tavern. Her surname, Jade, was also well known. Conrad Jade, the ranger, was one of the lieutenants to the elven King of Cairfawn nearly fifty years ago. The tradition of human rulers was disrupted when the master of the Evergreen Clan took over stewardship of the land while the infant heir of Cairfawn grew to ruling age. The kingdom was assaulted from all sides during this time and Jade made his name defending the steward and the lands from enemies both foreign and domestic. His efforts were thwarted by numbers and the armies of Tamriel conquered the land. When the next in the Cairfawn line was of age, the war began again and he was eventually victorious.

After the War of Ascension, Jade retired from service and was never heard from again. Legend has it that he fell for an elf maiden and went to into the woods to shun his human heritage and become one with the elves. People said he was denied a place among the elven people and died of a broken heart. The heavenly creature standing before them now proved he experienced at least one moment of happiness before his passing.

"My dear, please come in," Gun offered. Even his monk's blood was hot in the presence of this lust-inducing siren. Her body and face were so perfect, it was nearly painful to look at. He took her hand gently and led her to the table.

"Thought this was a private party, Gun," Raven said impatiently. Although she wasn't romantically linked to any of the men at the table, she was still protective of her territory. "Are ya taken on charity cases now?"

"I assure you, maid, I am in no need of charity," Raina shot back. She flicked her hand a couple of times and a tray holding a plate and some extra silverware floated from the bar over to the table in front of her. Her eyes met Raven's and bore down into a staring contest. Her pointed features seemed to sharpen and what seemed so sweetly innocent before became oddly dangerous.

"I sure wish I could do that!" squealed Tia, "it sure would make working here soooo much easier on my arms!" She walked over and took Raven by the arm and looked up at her with those little girl eyes that no one could withstand. She had embraced her role as the peacekeeper and kept everyone's spirits high. She had a knack for knowing when tension had to be broken, and now was one of those times. She liked the elf woman, and she wanted her to stay and in no uncertain terms her look told Raven that was that.

"Whatever, child," Raven said under her breath. Tia was more like a daughter, but this girl was a threat. Raven would probably never like her, but Raina was used to that.

"You are a pretty thing," Sivora said from the other side of the table. "What spell gave you that body?"

"It's not a spell, I am blessed with an elf's beauty and a woman's lust. Add the two and you get plenty of chances to refine your figure."

"That's hot," Zander said too loudly. The next pint mug was going to end up in his lap.

"No shit, ever been with a woman?" Sivora joked. She liked being one of the guys.

"Sure," Raina replied, "Though I do prefer the company of men, if you can't have what you want, be happy with what you have," she said nonchalantly. There was a sudden clatter of utensils and mugs dropping from astonished hands. "Could someone pass the salt?"

The party went downhill quickly from there. As the ale flowed, the stories did as well. Each man tried to get in his time with the elf goddess, and each woman tried to pry the men's eyes from her bosoms or bottom. Sivora finally started challenging people to wrestling contests without actually waiting for their agreement to begin. Raina floated from one man's grace to another's without giving a hint of who her favorite was. Raven did manage to spill a pint of ale on the elf's shoes, although she was aiming at the front of her finely made dress. Moments later there was a loud shout from the kitchen and a crashing of plates. The crew rushed in to find Raven, with her hair standing on end, rubbing the feeling back into her leg and Raina's small familiar, Kylala, licking up the spilled vittles.

It was early morning before they finally retired to their rooms. Gun secured private quarters for Raina although Zander insisted he would take care of the girl's sleeping arrangements. Duncan offered up his room until Sivora made it clear that he'd need it for the foreseeable future unless he wanted to sleep on a pew at the temple for a month.

Later that evening, there was a knock at Sivora's door. She grabbed at her night robe and her sword to answer the door. Although Scar and Gold kept things pretty quiet on the bandit front, there was never a sense of complete safety in the frontier town. She unlatched the door and pulled it a few inches.

"Good morning, Red," Duncan said behind a scruffy grin. He smelled like ale and the reminder of the night before was almost too much for Sivora's stomach.

"What in the nine hells could you want before my hangover has been cured?" she spat at him. "Until my head stops pounding, my legs are closed!" She started to swing the door shut when he stepped in and braced it.

"There's been an attack," he said seriously, figuring out that she didn't recover as quickly as he did from the revelry. "It's not the clans. Some wandering Minotaur grabbed a family. They are looking for some kind of ransom." Although they all hailed from different parts of the world, they had all come to look upon Belfort as an adopted home and didn't appreciate such acts of terror.

"Alright, let's go," Sivora said. She pulled her greatsword to her shoulder and started to pull the door open again but Duncan stopped it from moving. "Now what?"

"I'm sorry, you wanted to show everyone that you are a real redhead?" he replied. Sivora noticed the draft and looked to see that her robe was full open and she was exposed to the world. She took her hand off the door and pulled the robe tight.

"Jerk," she said, embarrassed.

"See you downstairs, Red," he said, stifling a laugh. The door slammed shut behind him.

It didn't take long for Duncan to rouse the rest of the team. Raina was already fully dressed when he visited her, much to his dismay. Gun and Zander awoke slowly, but were still recovered enough to dress and arm themselves for the journey at hand. They had still not bothered to secure mounts during their stay, so Gold, the Sergeant at Arms, gave them each a horse and two more for the family to ride back on. The minotaurs' trail was easy enough to pick up. About two hundred yards outside of town, the three sets of tracks became six. They followed the trail until it ended at the opening of an underground cavern. It wasn't a cave, it was man-made... probably an abandoned thief's hideout. They dismounted, formed up, and entered the cavern.

The way was dark, but the entrance only lasted for a handful of paces. There was a steep, stone stairway leading down with light and stifled cries wafting up from it. Weapons drawn, Sivora and Duncan led the way down the stairs with a battle cry. The entire group stormed in to see three of the Minotaur standing over their quarry, brandishing axes. They may have given up on the ransom and just decided to kill the farmers. In that case, the heroes were just in time.

Sivora ran to meet the bulls and they charged at her. One of them managed to tear away a piece of flesh exposed in her armor, but she managed to duck under the charge of the second and the third stumbled and fell at her feet. Raina belted out a quick verse and three missiles flew at their target and connected, leaving the beast bellowing in pain. Duncan and Gun ran up to flank Sivora while she brought her sword down on the creature that struck her. The swipe cut the creature in half at the waist and carried through to hack into the second's meaty leg. The prone creature tried to scramble to his feet, but Duncan and Gun quickly dispatched him. The fight was over in seconds, and it was oddly unsettling. They knew there were more out there, but where were they? Zander and Raina ran to the farmers and began to cut away the thick ropes that held them to a pillar in the floor.

"Wait," said Gun. "Do you hear that?"

They waited in silence, but only the elf had hearing as sharp as the partially blinded monk. The hair on the back of her neck bristled.

"More beasts," she said nearly in a hiss. "Stand ready."

Sivora whirled back to the entrance and now charging down the stairs were double again the number of creatures they'd just slain. The monsters killed weren't the kidnappers, they were the sentries! With a loud roar, three of the minotaurs charged. Again they were all over the woman warrior as she brought up her sword to defend herself. One of them bellowed as she caught his ribs with her blade. Duncan quickly chanted a prayer and was alive with strength beyond what was ordinarily humanly possible. He was belted backwards by a blow, but swung his sword into his attacker. With his added strength, the sword made a gaping hole in his attacker's abdomen, and the sword's contact sizzled with electricity. Gun ducked under the horns of the other beasts and turned to attack, delivering a flurry of unarmed blows to the kidneys of the creature. Sivora didn't stop to take measure of her wounds. She raised her sword again and another beast fell.

Raina pulled a small piece of spider silk from the folds of her dress and flashed her hand. Suddenly two of the three bulls were trapped in a web that appeared from nowhere and covered the entrance from the floor to the ceiling. Ensnared, they roared and fought against the strands without much success. Duncan and Gun focused their efforts on a single beast and ended its life as well. Zander ran to the back of Duncan and while chanting, he laid his hands on the cleric. Duncan felt a surge of blood and strength return to his veins. Missiles of energy flew again and again from the air over Raina's head and into the center mass of another minotaur. It shrieked as it tried to avoid the mystic arrows, but it finally fell from its wounds. Duncan and Gun delivered a killing blow to the beast they surrounded and Sivora slammed her sword into the last creature, slaying the creature once and for all. The battle was over, and they had won.

Zander and Duncan used their healing skills to tend to the family of farmers and their allies. Raina sat lightly on one of the dead bulls in the middle of the room, playing with her hair.

"You are a pretty handy little piece of ass, girl," Sivora said, intending the remark to be a compliment.

"Thank you," Raina replied excitedly. "I'm just glad there was no one angry with me for this. Let me tell you, that web trick has led to many a spanking in my youth."

"Well, it’s a good trick to have, sweetie," Sivora told her. "You'll be an asset to us as you keep getting better at this stuff. I don't understand it myself, but I remember the mages practicing their tricks near our barracks and some of them were extremely powerful."

"I hope to be one day," the young half-elf confided. "My father died just so that I could have life and because of the union, my mother was banished from our clan in disgrace. I hope to be powerful enough to make our name mean something again."

"You are on your way child," Gun said from behind her. "You are on your way."

"I think everyone's ok," Duncan said from the back of the room. "Let's get these people back to Belfort where we can take some time to tend to their injuries. We don’t want to end up facing the next hellish inhabitants of this place." They gathered up their belongings and some of the ill gotten gains the minotaurs had left behind and left. When they were all clear of the cave, Zander turned and chanted solemnly. He sent several blasts of pure sound into the mouth of the cavern until it caved in on itself.

"Wont' have to worry about it now," he said gleefully. "The great Tamizander leaves another set of evildoers homeless and fleeing for the hills!"

"Why do I have the feeling that this encounter is going to sound so different tonight in song?" Duncan asked rhetorically.

"Song is the language of history," said Zander. "It holds no lies. I am already composing the lyrics."

"Well don't leave us in suspense, bard," ordered Sivora. "Sing it to us you little fairy!"

"If you insist," the artist replied. He sat up straight on his mount and cleared his throat.

"Ever do battle with a minotaur?" 1992.03.14-Night Dreams and Such, Part 1

You had a disturbing dream. You can only recall one part. A tall figure with a golden mask led you among the dead as through a wedding celebration. You heard many voices, but no lips moved. You strained to breathe, but your chest didn't move. The tall figure spoke with each figure as he passed among them, laughing and joking, as if they were alive, but they made no reply. You tried to cry out, but without breath, your tongue fluttered in vain.

You lay in bed, trying to piece together images from the strange dream into some coherent meaning. It wasn’t like any dream you’ve ever had, at least none that you can remember. Still, you decide that you shouldn’t make too much out of it. It was very odd, but then again, most dreams are.

You were more surprised that your dreams didn’t include any damn Minotaurs, though you’d seen enough of those to last a long time. Of course, you could dream about more pleasant things, such as your fellow Minotaur slayer, Sivora. But you don’t really need to dream about her when the real thing is lying on top of you.

She’s sleeping for a change. Between the Minotaurs and your celebration afterwards, she should be flat exhausted. When your after-dark activities ended, she just collapsed and was asleep within a few minutes, which was not her normal routine. Swinging a greatsword around is hard work as you well know.

She had been acting a little odd lately, but she still refused to open up to you completely. Still, she was there when you needed her, especially if it meant she got to use that greatsword of hers. And you were there when she needed you, whatever it was. She never directly asks for help, but you have insight that most others do not. And the intimate times, well, they’re outta sight.

You catch yourself smiling and gently stroking the mane of red hair cascading over your chest and down her back. She stirs on top of you and her thigh rubs your “greatsword”. You try to shift yourself into a more comfortable position and move her leg off of your sensitive parts.

Normally you wear something to bed for reasons just like this, but because she collapsed on top of you immediately afterwards, there wasn’t time. You could have woken her up, but there are demons in the hells that are more pleasant than Sivora when she’s woken up abruptly, especially right after falling asleep.

Shifting hasn’t helped, so you push her leg down, which rubs you again. Now, there’s a rise in the blanket. Laughing to yourself, you wonder if Sivora will be up for a little morning action when she wakes. Of course, you already know the answer to this question.

Settling in again, you place your left hand on Sivora’s bottom to push her a bit closer since you had to adjust her position. As you push, a hand grabs your wrist and her head whips up.

“What the… Dunca!.” Her sleepy eyes get wider and she adjusts her leg over you, but its progress is stopped.

“Good lord!”

You smile sheepishly and mutter “I was just trying to make you more comfortable”.

“Uh-huh, riiiight.” There is sarcasm in her voice, but the tone tells you that she knows it’s the truth.

She places her hand on your chest again and begins running her fingers through chest hair. You take a deep breath and open your eyes. Her eyes are wide open and there’s a hint of smoldering fire in them. Her hand gradually makes its way down to your midsection in small swirling motions. She raises herself up and kisses you as she starts to tend to you.

“This time, you be on top, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.” You r reply is barely audible and your dream forgotten. 1992.04.18

All Hands Part 2 (RP)

Upon our return from Hell's Church, we are resting our bones and making up for lost drinking when Gold enters.

"I'm glad you've returned. You've been missed around here. There's been some new things going on since you've been out and about."

He proceeds to tell you about the impending arrival of the Duke's son, Baron Arturo Belois. He's planning to make an extended stay in Belfort as a sign of faith in the border towns and frontiers of his father's lands. In preparation for his arrival, the Steward's house has been made over for his residence and a special band of deputies has been formed and will receive monthly wages to do nothing but patrol the city.

The word has come down from his father that the frontier towns will be included in the Gladiator circuit, an extremely popular pastime in the rest of the barony and kingdom as a whole.

3 rangers have been hired to track the local frontier for signs of clan attacks against the city.

"It's a very exciting time here. We've been on the frontier and fighting for legitimacy as a proper town and now it seems that we have it! They may decide to replace me, but I am campaigning for the Captain's post of the local garrison that is sure to be stationed here."

Mull over the decision to join the local guard or stay mercenary.

Days pass and the young lord's arrival is just 7 days away. Even if freedom was preferred, Gold still frequently keeps you abreast of goings on. He is also fond of chatting military strategy with Sivora, though he's happily married to a very sweet, and very pregnant, young maid. They are probably the cutest couple you've ever seen. Gold is probably no more than 25 years old, but he's spent his entire life other than his academy training right here in Belfort. His bride was his next door neighbor that he used to chase and throw sticks at when they were toddlers. His father was a smith, making mostly tools for the local farmers and shoes for horses. His surname, Gold, seems perfect for his and his bride's golden locks. His training went well, and he accepted a post to return to Belfort and his wife rather than go to the front and make a name for himself. That was nearly the same time that Belfort got big enough to draw notice from the Wild Clans. He joined up with the bare bones militia on his own and armored them with the help of his father and a stipend of funds sent from the Baron's defense treasury. When the sergeant at arms fell in battle, he was unanimously chosen to succeed him. He earns respect purely for his loyal nature and undying optimism.

Gun has decided to return to his monastery and check in. The last dungeon crawl has given him serious doubt about his ability to help us in battle, so he's decided to return and train and meditate on his future. He promises to keep in touch and return.

Gold finds Duncan and Sivora sharing a lunchtime meal in the square. It's a curious meat on a stick that is very tasty, though disturbingly sized the same as a rat.

"My friends, I'm glad I've found you. Our rangers have turned up something in the forest. It seems we are being spied on from all sides by clan scouts. They have shown no aggression and one such party was able to be observed unnoticed. Their plans were not discussed, but they did pay special attention to the changing of the gate guards before ditching their camp and retreating into the wilds."

Decide if you want to investigate the occurrence or fortify the defenses.

Fortify From the ranger's information, Gold has decided that the spot upon the hill will bring a ranged attack on their force. He begins having his people build shelters mounted on wheels that can cover a 2 prone persons or 4 crouching individuals from arrow fire. This will protect the wounded and healers from being vulnerable and give the front line without shields an area to seek shelter if the arrows start flying from the hill. Sivora is asked to come up with a signal with the rangers who will be stationed upon the hill and will warn them when to take cover. Knowledge: Strategy check DC 10: Spark a tender box and wave a torch. 50xp DC 20: Make a chain where the first ranger will fire an arrow at the second, who will fire at the third, who will hit a bullseye on the rear guard tower and begin ringing a warning bell. This should cover the rangers by making it seem the rear guard has a spotter.

Sivora and Duncan can gain xp by spending time training local militia. Can train in any weapon skill where they have more than just proficiency (200 ea).

Investigate Wandering into the woods is not your idea of a good time. You can see that Duncan doesn't appreciate nature either, preferring a nice pew to a fallen log to rest on any day. One of the rangers, the one that did the spying, is with you, picking his way along the trail. His name is Grant, and he's nothing like Tarin.

"Just a bit farther up this trail, guys. I'll show you where they were and where I observed them from."

Grant was young and obviously loved this. He had a skinny frame and too long brown hair. He also had green eyes and if now for his huge, round ears would look like an elf. A stiff wind at the wrong angle would carry the boy off like a kite! He carried his bow in his right hand and rarely let his balance slip on this moss covered death path his called a "trail". You glance back over your shoulder and decide you'd need a Gnoll's sharp eyes to see anything of detail in the town, but then again, that is what you are dealing with. Working your way up a hill that didn't look nearly this steep from the town gates, Duncan slips and begins to slide on his stomach back towards town. When he finally grasps a passing tree, he lets out a grunt of pain and gets to his feet. The front of his silver plate mail is now stained green. Grant lets out an ill- advised laugh, but you know that Duncan's good sense of humor has its breaking point.

Finally you arrive at the spot. With Grant's help you investigate the scene and try to discern what the scouts were learning from this spot. Knowledge: Strategy check DC 10: Force was definitely a scouting party and not a war party. 50xp DC 15: Scouting party was observing the changing of the rear guards and not the front gate as once thought. Line of sight to the rear guard is clear. 100xp DC 20: Hill provides a ranged or mounted advantage, but not an infantry advantage. Trees aren't dense enough to stop a ballista or catapult arm from swinging. 200xp DC 30: Once the front gate is engaged, the line of sight will show when the rear guard is pulled to the front and a mounted or artillery attack will take out the supply line to the front and cut off the main fighting force from the town. 300xp

Upon learning all you have to learn, you need to decide how to deal with the area. If you make it obvious that you've been there, the gnolls may abandon their strategy. If you have Grant cover the trail, then you can counter attack the force or booby trap the area to bring them down.

If you return to Gold with your information, you are awarded 300xp for the report. Gold will decided on the burning of the area to scare off the gnolls from using the hill advantage if left up to him. He begins the fortify options above.

Reinforcements The next day (4 days prior to the lord's arrival). The rangers are reporting on huge troop movements of multiple creature types. Orcs and Gnolls are nocturnal, so a day time travel would be best. There is an assumption that the attack will come on the day of or the day after the young lord's arrival. A hunch tells you that if they attack the day before with a big enough force, that they can sack Belfort and lay in wait for the noble to arrive and kill him and his contingent. In the face of a force this big, you know you'll need reinforcements. Gold asks if you would be willing to ride out and return with any volunteers you can muster from the neighboring towns.

Being a preacher, Duncan would be excellent to bring along. You can go with him or split up to cover more ground. Together you can combine skills to rally more troops. The word is out that an attack is near and people are boarding up their homes. The next town over is a half day's ride and putting out the word will take the entire night. You can speak to a group in the morning or go around recruiting at night. Waiting until morning will give you an audience of 50 worthy men. Diplomacy/Intimidate skill check DC 10: 5 men (50 xp) DC 20: 10 men (100 xp) DC 30: 15 men (300 xp)

DC 10: 1 men (50 xp) DC 20: 3 men (100 xp) DC 30: 5 men (300 xp)

Recruiting the night before will bring you to 4 bars with 40 patrons each. The maximum number at each that will go with you is 10. Diplomacy/Intimidate skill check DC 10: 3 men (15 xp) DC 20: 7 men (25 xp) DC 30: 10 men (75 xp)

You muster them the next day and return in the afternoon ahead of the team. Duncan will stay behind to lead them back to Belfort, arriving the eve of the lord's arrival, the night that you think you will be attacked. It will be up to you and Gold to hold the line until they can arrive.

Sivora returns to find the men in a near panic. A diplomacy or intimidate check (DC 15, 100xp) will calm them down a bit. They are mustered under the coverings with their armor on and their weapons at the ready. There are a total of 15 coverings and the church has provided 5 healers for the coming battle. The rangers have tracked war parties coming together and scouting positions in the night, but a full number of opponents is unknown. Those who have the ability have fled to the countryside to hole up in the farm homes and defend women and children better. The taverns are dark and the awnings of the merchants are ghostly as they flap in the spring breeze. Just a month removed from the cold season…

The troops follow Gold, muttering something about he's prettier than their wives, when the alarm sounds. It's the ranged attack Gold was expecting (if you booby trapped the area, this will obviously change). A glance towards the hillside sees several torchlights but too much foliage to tell what to expect. If their intent is to fool the lord's entourage into walking into a trap, catapults aren't likely. Everyone takes cover under the mobile forts and waits for the deadly rain. The arrows start to fall like hail with a thud thud thud as they stick into anything unlucky enough to halt their descent. A few cries are heard by unlucky fellows with arms or legs not pulled completely underneath the shelters. The healers are removing their robes and pulling on half plate to prevent a lucky blow from ending their role in this melee. It's begun…

Set Traps: DC 10: Kill 2 DC 15: Kill 5 DC 20: Kill 10 DC 30: Kill 15 DC 40: Kill All

The battle

The rain of arrows stops. Directly in front of the gate is a massing of gnolls. They are much like the ones you faced months ago, wearing light armor and carrying crude but effective swords and axes. They have at least twice your garrison number (100 opponents, 50 allies) massed and snarling 100 yards away. The only archers you see are on the hill. You see 30 goblin riders working their way up to the front and realize they have cavalry. Worgs aren't quite like heavy horse, but you'd give a lot for about 50 pikes right about now. The worg tracks went unnoticed or they were intentionally kept secret from our scouts. They charge…

30 Worg Riders attacking

Once the worgs you are fighting are starting to fall, you spot Gold leading Sonny's men against 6 of them. Two of the "wise guys" have fallen but are wounded, not dead. Gold is holding his own. A rider has made his way back to the healers and is attacking a priest. You can go one way or the other.

Save Gold +100xp Save the priest +100xp

After this, the infantry is crossing the field. We've lost only 10 men in the battle with the Worgs if you trained them, 15 if not. We now stand 40/35 vs 100. The gnoll foot soldiers attack in groups of 4 against 1. If you keep separate, the larger groups will attack single foes until dead, then move on. You have to kill as many as possible.

The battle with the infantry is going bad. The healers are venturing out to the front of the lines and we've lost 3 of them. The Gnolls have recognized them as a priority and are seeking them out. Gold has seen the same thing and has mustered 3 men to help him protect one. You can go to protect the remaining one or continue to fight.

Once you've killed 3 sets of Gnolls (12 total), you take stock of the battlefield. There is another set of infantry waiting to attack. Orcs are just off in the distance and they have a trifecta of trolls with them chained to large leashes. They are in an alliance with the gnolls, but know if more of them die, it will be easier for them to take total control once the town is sacked. The gnoll captains are now on the field as they attack last and have 4 bodyguards with them. There are 4 clan captains and16 total bodyguards. You can rally Sonny and Gold to help you bring them down and end the gnoll attack or try to drop back to a rally point and prepare for the orc attack.

Upon seeing the captains defeated, the orce unleash the trolls to finish off both gnolls and humans remaining. Three trolls charge across the field, attacking both friend and foe. Each orc has a torch to herd them in the right direction.

During the fight with the trolls, it has begun to rain. The storm is flashing lightning across the sky, lighting up the horde of orcs waiting on their chance and the goblin archers on the hill. The alarm bell rings out again if you've not destroyed the archer force with a booby trap. You have two rounds to find shelter or be "attacked" by 5 arrows in your space (5x5). The Hit roll is +10.

Once the trolls are defeated, the orcs charge. There is only enough time for them to cross the field for you to retreat or rally. There is either one or two healers left depending on if you protected one. There are 10 healthy soldiers left not including you, Sonny, and Gold. The number of charging orcs seems to be as many as the gnolls before them.

As the fight advances (10 or more kills), you see hear thunder, but it is constant. Its more like the thundering of hooves. Knowing that orcs prefer to eat horses than ride them, you rejoice in the fact that Duncan has arrived. He's leading a charge of men at full speed at the flank of the orc forces. They turn to face the new threat and you have them flanked. Since the orcs are trapped, they will fight until routed. As you chase and hack them down, you almost take the leg off of Duncan's horse. Covered in black blood, he wields his electric blue longsword in one hand and a shield in the other. His helmet's been knocked off and he's bleeding from a wound on his cheek, but smiling.

As the goblin archers flee (if there are any), we take inventory of the battle. Sonny's wise guys are down to 6, but his 3 lieutenants made it to the end (Tessio, Pentangele, and Clemenza). Sonny is mostly unharmed, except for some new scars. Gold was struck down, but then revived by the healers and continued to fight. He's worse for wear, but alive and smiling through his fatigue. Most of the militia is dead or mortally wounded. Duncan gets to work on the ones that can be saved while the men from __ begin searching the field for survivors or either side to be helped or finished off. The town is saved, so 4,000 xp is awarded to the group. Picking through the remains, it seems each orc was paid in advance for his participation with 100 gold (10,000 gp). Each gnoll was paid only 50 (5,000 gp). The weapons and armor carried is salvageable, and the militia from __ offer to carry it back and put it on sale for traveling adventurers to send the money back to Belfort for its reconstruction.

The fighting lasted well through the night. When morning came, the remaining townspeople were out in full force and the Horn of Belfort rang out to bring the rest of the settlers home. Tia and Raven were applying what little healing skills and comfort they could provide the injured or dying men in that field of crimson mud. The women had come over to sit with Sivora and rest their weary minds and hearts when He arrived. Just prior to noon the Duke's son rode in on a sturdy warhorse with a contingent of 20 soldiers and hangers on with him. The baron surveyed the chaos and immediately rode over to Gold, who was discussing with a stonecutter plans for a new, defensible town wall, and dismounted. The two are about the same age and by the quick conversation, may know each other from Gold's days in the academy. Mathius points over to Sivora and is obviously singing your praises. Just then, Duncan walks over to Sivora and the girls to ask after her wounds and make sure she's taking care of herself. At the entrance of the cleric, the young baron cuts Gold off mid-sentence with a wave and walks to the small group.

"Duncan?" he asks.

The cleric looks away from Sivora and they meet eyes. Both men start towards each other and embrace so hard, you might think they were attacking one another. The baron lets out a whoop that has built up with the unknowing that has built up over years of separation.

After a long embrace, with an arm around the young lord, Duncan walks over to his friends. Beaming he says, "Sivora, Raven, Tia; I want to introduce you to my brother…"

1992.04.21 The Journal of Gunshin

I have arrived at my monastery after four long months of absence. It is a freeing experience to be back among my brothers and sisters. They have welcomed me with open arms and hearts and I find myself more able to accept their love. I have been living in the Belois town of Belfort, across the Dai-Rynn border from the Stormcloud Monastery. I have been spending time amongst the friends I have made from my assignment in Rimule, Sivora, Dycannus, Tiara, and Simone.

Since my last journal, I have been wandering, lost in my quest to bring justice to the kingdom of Rimule. My champion, Valestis, the one who would challenge Prince Malagant to overthrow his corrupt rule, has been killed. He was taken from us by one who was touched by demons, a Tiefling known as "She". We made inquiries, but her home is far from here and her power great. To search her out would not bring Valestis back to us, and would have most likely lead to the death of our alliance. Together, we decided to bury him and let go of his memory. As a paladin of the god of the dead, he is with his lord now and probably serving us better where he is. I do miss him, but like the others, I have stopped mourning him.

I have seen a change in the child, Tiara. She was forced into her womanhood by an unjust father, and then terribly affected by the death of her special friend, Valestis. Although they were never intimate to my knowledge, they did have a bond. The paladin wanted her to be able to blossom to womanhood before he took liberty with her, and his death prevented that event from happening. She was finally able to come to grips with her loss and has matured in her ability to have relationships with men. She trusts me and the cleric, though is wary of the bard, showing excellent judgment of character. She was briefly courted by the mayor's son, but when he moved his family, the budding affair quickly ended. I believe that her maturation is progressing at a healthy rate and she will develop into a strong woman.

Simone has also changed, but instead of opening to the world, she has begun to close off. She still stays with our makeshift family and to an outsider would seem to be a lively participant, but there is sadness in her that has not healed. In Rimule, she was a well-respected business owner which gave her self esteem beyond that which she had ever known. When that was taken from her, she lost her sense of self worth. She sees herself as her position bids it. Now she serves food and drink and she thinks of herself only as a serving girl. If she were to take a lover, she would probably see herself as a common whore. I am hopeful that time will heal her wounds, but I'm afraid that her ways have been set and that much misery lies ahead for her.

Sivora has adopted the role of protector and matriarch of our band. She is first to dive into battle and fiercely protective of her flock. She and the cleric of Heironeous work in tandem to keep our sprits and bodies sound. We've taken to working for the good of the town, tracking down lawbreakers and defending those that are set upon by the more foul creatures that share the land with the citizens. We've spilled and shed blood together on many occasions. I do believe that Dycannus and Sivora share their bed, but not in a way that comes from a spousal love. Instead it is more like a relief of not being alone when midnight strikes. The bond has helped the lady douse the flames of rage that threatened to destroy her, and the guardianship of the town and of us has given her a post as worthy as the one she left behind. Her fame and influence grows, so if there would be another champion to free Rimule, it may very well be the Lady Swordwraith.

In speaking of Dycannus, or Duncan as he prefers to be called, I see in him one that takes on other's cares without sharing his own. He has such an optimistic nature that it seems that he's never bothered by the little things that drive a person mad. He is obviously at ease around his woman, Sivora, and is a good friend to both Tiara and Simone, knowing them longer than anyone else. He even lends his ear to the spoony bard when he's in need of confession, although priests of Heironeous lend no credence to such an act. He has not been quick to bond with the folk of the town, but he does leave himself open to friendships, should they arise. He gives us a comfort and feeling of protection living just miles from the border of a kingdom that calls us outcasts. I don't know where he draws his faith, but the well is forever deep.

Before I speak of myself, I must speak of Edea and Tarin. I knew them both only briefly and through horrible circumstances, but know them I did and miss them I do. Edea now carries the burden of Valestis' death, one that she feels she could have prevented, although she could not. The beast that was able to track us in spite of Tarin's efforts to hide our path did not discern our location because of her shouting. Tarin is with her, and for that I am thankful. Although he is not at peace with himself, I believe he is further along the path than she. He is not as drawn to rage as she, and has a peaceful god who guides him. He may be her eventual savior, or they may have parted ways shortly after they left Belfort. Either way, I pray to St. Cuthbert for their safety and happiness, and hope that our paths cross again.

Lastly, I must turn my eye upon myself. I have not looked inward in months, and have returned to the Order to do just that. I question my motives and the length of time I spend doing nothing but living a life that has no direction and no meaning. I take adventures as they come without seeking them and defend those I've become close to without accepting new wards. My role in Rimule was to be a defender, a Bengosha, and an impartial judge that people could come to for wisdom. Instead I have indulged in my selfish desire to see my friends prosper. I must redirect my energies and skills to new individuals. I know that this group has the strength to forge their path without me and that I am needed for a greater purpose. I will find meaning through meditation, and contact with St. Cuthbert, but in my dreams I have seen a growing cloud, one that will not pass like a storm, but settle over the land like a fog. I will return to Belfort to say goodbye, and find the source of this unrest.

This is my journey. St. Cuthbert, watch over me.

Gunshin, the Bengosha April 21st of the 1992nd year of Avalon

1992.04.29 Nothing Has Changed (In The Name of Friendship)

"Take a look at this," Edea said as she tossed the parchment into the ranger's lap. They had been traveling together for more than six months and all the pleasantries were gone from their relationship. They liked each other, but were partners first, and friends second. Tarin was a tough as dragon's hide fighter with a strong back and a valiant heart. Edea was a cunning warrior who never put herself in harm's way, but still managed to dispatch her fair share of enemies.

"Trackers, rangers, and warriors welcome," he read aloud. "Peoples from all kingdoms seeking work should come to Belfort, a growing town and future center of culture for the frontier. Wages and action guaranteed."

"Isn't that where we left the Good Guy Gang?" Edea asked sarcastically. There was still a lot of hurt when she looked back on her time with all of the friends they once shared a life and a home with. She thought about them often enough that their names and faces were all still familiar. Duncan, the true blue cleric was the moral center. Zander, the impossibly handsome bard, was the comic relief. Gunshin, the wise and reserved monk was the voice of reason. Sivora, the woman-warrior, was the rock they all clung to during stormy days. There were the other two women, Raven and Tia, who lost their livelihoods at the hands of the evil lord Malagant. And finally there was the late Valestis, the blazing eyed paladin that brought them all together, only to leave them at the hands of a fiend that had also nearly taken Edea's life as well. Yes, painful as it was, she remembered them all.

"You know it is," Tarin replied. "I still hear you moaning about the bard in your dreams."

"Then perhaps I should help it be less a disturbance," she threatened. With a flick of her wrist, she brought out a blade to his ear. He never flinched.

"If you must," he goaded, "but I know you won't risk getting blood on your favorite shirt."

"You're too stupid to be afraid," she scolded.

"You're probably right," he agreed.

Tarin stood up and brushed the leaves from his backside. He took a deep breath in to his lungs and released it slowly while Edea sheathed her blade. He reached back to the tree to take his quarterstaff into his hands.

"What do you think it means?" she asked. She didn't want to care, but her thoughts were usually dark on such matters and she wanted a second opinion on the danger their friends might be in.

"It probably means they are in over their heads," Tarin confirmed. "The town, I mean. There's no guaranteeing that our friends even remained in Belfort after we last saw them."

"They were still there a month ago," she admitted. "I have sometimes kept an eye on them from a distance when you go off on your nature walks."

"Actually they were still there a week ago," Tarin confirmed. "Where do you think I go on my nature walks?" They smiled at each other. As hard as they tried to keep a professional manner, they were cut from the same sackcloth and they knew it.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to earn an honest wage for a while," Edea said while looking at the ground and kicking at a small stone. "Sleep in a bed. Have a pint with a dinner not killed by my own blade…" She looked up at him with pale blue eyes.

"Not fond of resting your head on your own boots for comfort?" he asked. She looked away again, afraid she insulted him. He did provide her with many comforts in the wild and she lived better under his care than on the streets of her youth. He reached over to take her face into his gloved hand. "Me neither," he said through a wry grin. "I would sure like to spend some of this gold on a hot bath and a shave."

The silver of her blade was again glistening in the sunlight.

"Say the word, Ranger," she pleaded playfully with the edge against his throat. "Say the word."

The road back to Belfort was not easily navigated. The woods in this part of Avalon were thick with members of the Wild Clans, hoards of creatures that fought humans for land and resources. They were mostly nocturnal, leaving daytime safe to travel, but those that stayed under the stars at night often had to defend themselves from war bands of goblins, orcs, and gnolls. Tarin often tracked these bands to their resting places and he and Edea would dispatch them before they could prey on unsuspecting travelers. It was their little offering to karma to keep them safe.

Five miles outside of Belfort, they came to such a set of tracks. The band was at least twice the size of a normal war party; it was more like a full sized pack, traveling towards the frontier town. Belfort was a border town and was nearly always under attack from the Wild Clans. The one thing they lacked was a city to call their own. Belfort was such a desirable target that the Clans often worked together to try and sack the town. Their attacks grew more and more ambitious and their measure of success was growing. Belfort had no standing garrison, so a coming battle must have been what triggered the call to arms that Edea found posted in Rimule just days before.

"Do you think we should track the creatures or move forward to warn the town?" Edea asked. She was willing to concede that this was Tarin's area of expertise.

"I'd like to know better what they are up against and since you are uniquely skilled to slip in unnoticed…" he implied.

"Fine," she agreed. This track and spy routine was a very effective manner of scouting danger, but it went against Edea's primal instinct of attack first and ask questions later. Tarin followed broken blades of grass and gnoll droppings for two miles deeper into the forest. There were no campfires or remains of chewed animal bones, these were soldiers and they were on the move. They arrived at a cave with burned out torches wedged into the rock face. Inside, there was a great deal of snarling and shouting.

"It's your show, sweetheart," Tarin goaded. "Try not to get yourself killed."

"Up yours," she replied through a snarl. She hated being babied by him and he loved her reaction.

She threw her black hood over her head and ducked down to the crevice where the cave walls met the ground. The walls were wet with mold and the stench from the cave was of rotting meat and un-bathed orcs. She found a natural shelf going up the wall and began to scale it. The cave naturally led downward, but she was climbing up, near the hundreds of stalactites in the roof of the cave. Looking down, she saw a frightening sight.

There was a gnoll stripped of his armor. He had a thick mane that was dyed red with old blood and juices of berries. He was a good deal bigger than the other gnolls surrounding him in a half circle. He stood nearly six feet tall on his hind legs, looking like a cross between a hyena and a devil. There were easily fifty of the creatures snarling and barking across the cave. The focus of their taunts was a band of at least fifty orcs, tall and muscular humanoids with green and gray skin and rippling muscles. At the front of their legion was a large specimen with a deep red, axe shaped insignia tattooed to his chest. He pounded on it fiercely and charged the gnoll leader. The creature gnashed at the orc and tore into the thick skin of his shoulder. A backhanded punch sent the jaw of the dog-beast flying backwards. He recovered and lurched again, this time burying his fangs into the forearm of the orc. He brought his fist down hard on the gnoll's back and neck, but the creature didn't let go. This brought a chorus of howls from the gnoll's side of the cave. The orcs yelled and stomped at their champion. He again brought a heavy fist down on the gnoll's back. The beast released his hold and snaked around the orc. He leapt into the air, aiming his rear claws for the kidneys of the humanoid. A quick backhanded swing caught the creature in the air and sent him flying across the battleground, skidding to a stop in front of the orc partisans. They screamed with delight and punched each other roughly. The gnoll got to his feet, crouching on all fours and sprang at the orc. He caught the leaping dog in the air and wedged his thick fingers in between the jaws aimed for his throat. They fell to the ground, thrashing against each other, the gnoll trying to deliver the killing bite and the orc trying to snap the dog's jaws and end the battle altogether.

Just then, a loud beating of a metallic axe against a shield reverberated throughout the cave. The two combatants disengaged and got to their feet. They stood, breathing heavily and bleeding, at the center of the ring while the onlookers became quiet.

"You are acting like a pack of wild animals!" shouted a voice in the basic language used by men across the continent. Although it was unusual, the essential sounds could be made by the orc and gnoll throats to speak in basic tongue. The voice that spoke these words, however, came from a man. "Belfort is your target. Man is your enemy. Save your strength for the coming battle. Save your rage for the pink mortals and their primitive blades."

"We've attacked and attacked," said the gnoll who fought so fiercely just moments before. He was now donning a chain shirt of armor, being given to him by two green maned associates. "We've gotten nowhere."

"We have lost many warriors to their primitive blades," agreed the orc leader. "Why will this battle go any differently?"

"Because now you are organized," said the man with a hiss. "and now you are armed, and now you will have help." As if on cue, behind him strode two hill giants carrying large clubs and evil grimaces on their faces. They bellowed and raised their clubs above their heads. The orcs and gnolls joined in, howling and screaming their joy into the stale air. Edea backed down the side of the wall, eager to get the hell out of this cave and rejoin Tarin. She left as she had arrived, silently, and unnoticed.

"They have what?" Sgt. Gold asked in disbelief. He'd agreed to meet with the ranger and rogue, thinking them to be the lost companions of his friends Sivora and Duncan. When they walked into the guard tower, his suspicion had been confirmed. The group that he called friends was of the highest character and had proven themselves to him many times, but the story that these two had just woven was too outlandish to be true.

"You heard her, sergeant," Tarin said. "Two hill giants join the battle on the side of the Wild Clans. I watched them and their master enter the cave with my own eyes, though Edea's word on the subject would have been enough." The rogue smiled at this, the ranger's fierce loyalty was his most attractive feature.

"How long do you give us, ranger?" he asked. His heart was heavy with the news he'd just been given.

"They can be here in a day's march," Tarin reported, "but if they intend to attack they will most likely give themselves a few hours rest first."

"I've sent Sivora and her friends to round up some mercenary fighters in the next town." Gold told them. "They should return by nightfall tomorrow night."

"What can we do to help?" Edea asked.

"Sivora and one of my scouts ascertained that there is a goblin war party scouting the hill to the northwest," Gold shared. "We are determined to booby trap it, but haven't the skill to create a trap that will go unnoticed until the battle."

"Leave that to us," Tarin replied. "I can concoct several fire potions that Edea can hide until the right moment to unleash the flames. That will quell an ambush, but I'm afraid that without knowing where the attack will come from, trapping the field may be more dangerous to travelers than to our enemies."

"I agree," said the soldier, regaining some confidence. "When Sivora returns we will prepare to defend the town with the resources we have and our lives. I've sent all of the women and children away from the town to the farms to stay until called for. If the town is sacked, they will go to the Duke for sanctuary and he will arrive with an army to avenge us. I assume that you will stay on and fight?"

"I'm not one to give my life for some cause," Tarin replied. "What has the greater good ever done to help the individual it asks to give his life for it?"

"Tarin, if we don't stay, they'll be routed," Edea pleaded. "Sivora and Duncan can't stand alone against hill giants."

"No, I've seen what those beasts can do," Tarin replied. "We will stay on to fight, but now there is work to do."

Sgt. Gold greeted Sivora and her company of fighters at the town square. She'd recruited several warriors with more than a few battles under their belts.

"You've done well," he replied. "This plus my reinforcements should help us turn the tide."

"What reinforcements?" Duncan asked.

"My advertising brought two of the best mercenaries money could buy," he bragged, "and they even brought with them intelligence on the attackers. They come tonight and they bring with them two hill giants as allies."

"By the gods," Gunshin exclaimed. "What kind of devilry allies giants with the clans?"

"That I don't know monk," Gold replied, "but I will be satisfied to ask questions after should there still be breath in me."

"So where are these mercs that bring us such happy news?" chimed in the bard. Truth be told it was his persuasive speeches about the glories of battle and the riches of fame that brought the reinforcements to their banner.

"Right behind you, boy," said a gravely voice in Tamizander's ear. He felt a quarterstaff around his chest and two powerful arms pinning his own to his side.

"Back off, ranger," scowled Sivora, her hand reaching for her sword. She was surprised when she found naught but air. "What the?"

"Looking for this?" said a small cloaked figure holding Sivora's greatsword by the severed belt. "Lucky this wasn't holding up your panties."

"Edea, my child," Gun exclaimed. "Tarin! You have returned to us in our hour of need." Tarin released his grip on Zander and pushed him away from his grasp. He pushed back the hood on his cloak to reveal a cleanly shaven face and pulled back hair.

"Tia went to town on me at the bath," Tarin explained about his new look. "I think she was happy to see me."

"Too fucking happy," Edea growled.

Before greetings could be exchanged, there was a shout from the west side of town.

"Battle stations!" screamed Scar. He lit an arrow and fired it into a hollow tree a hundred feet away on top of the hill. The tree was filled with Tarin's lamp oil concoction. Edea had been able to reassemble the tree around the trapped vials perfectly. As the goblin archers set up to attack, they were engulfed in flames and flying bark. High pitched screams filled the air as they burned alive.

"Holy Hell!" cried Duncan. He looked over to Edea. "We've missed you, girl."

"I haven't missed you, blowhard," she lied. "Stop ogling me and get to your station!"

"I'm with her!" Zander exclaimed.

"Good," Tarin called from behind him, "then you won't be too far from my sight."

"Jackass," Zander muttered.

"Pretty boy," Tarin muttered back.

Gold was shouting orders to the soldiers and townsfolk on where to stand and what their plan was. Hoards of gnolls and orcs appeared at the tree line. Edea pulled her crossbow from her back and loaded a bolt. She looked up to assess the coming threat. One of the giants was leading the charge on her position, and the marked gnoll was with him. Tarin crouched beside her and strung up an arrow into his bow.

"Here we are again," she snapped, "in over our heads, risking our lives in the name of friendship." She rose above her cover and fired a bolt that landed in the think hide of the giant's left shoulder. It bellowed in pain.

"Nothing has changed," Tarin called back. He rose up and fired directly into the throat of the marked gnoll, leaving him drowning in his own blood. The battle had been joined.

1992.05.01 A Brother by Any Other Name

"Come on, Duncan!" the older boy shouted. He was already at the top of the castle wall and brandishing his wooden sword.

"I am not Duncan, I am Maximus Belois, the great paladin of Heironeous!" the younger one shouted back, drawing his pretend weapon and leaving a few splinters in his belt and trousers.

"And I am Samgar Bane!" the other shouted back. "I destroy abominations with just a wave of my hand and am such a great swordsman that the knights of Samreign beg me for training!"

"Have at the then, Samgar!" the younger called and swung his crude sword in the air. The swords cracked and smacked at each other in surprising synchronicity. Although they were just thirteen and ten years old, both had watched enough swordplay to have learned it well. The small Samgar parried a thrust and swung around in a circle, slashing at his opponent's legs. The agile Maximus leapt over the stroke and brought the flat of his weapon down on Samgar's shoulder blade.

"Ow!" the older boy cried out.

"First blood!" yipped the younger, smiling at his accomplishment.

"Second blood!" yelled Samgar as he tackled the other boy forcefully and began to rap him on the head with small fists.

"No fair, we have to use swords," cried out Maximus, fighting off the older boy's punches with his forearms.

"If you can get me off you, we can fight with swords!" the older boy taunted, pinning the younger down with his knees. He was laughing and punching and enjoying his upper hand until a punch caught him under the eye and sent him sprawling.

"Are you ok?" said Dycannus, now dropping his Maximus persona.

"Grandpa wouldn't have punched your granddad," Arthur reminded.

"He would have if your grandpa pinned him down and wouldn't have let him up!" Dycannus defended. He hated being pinned down. It made him feel inferior.

"True," Arthur admitted. "Besides, we need to be teaming up on vampires and skeletons, not fighting each other."

"Yeah!" Dycannus shouted in agreement. "Let's go find some undead and send them back to Hell!"

The scene was fresh in both men's minds as they relayed it over a beautifully laid out dinner table in the mayor's residence. Sitting at the table were twenty guests, including Dycannus, Sivora, Gun, Tarin, Edea, Raina, and Tamizander. Raven and Tia were serving with some of the prince's personal servants. The rest of the table was made up of noble councilors and higher ranking members of Prince Artorious' honor guard. Surprising at least to those that he'd traveled with for the last three weeks, Arthur chose the band of adventurers to sit closest to him with Dycannus at his left.

"You always did cheat because you couldn't beat me," Dycannus recalled with a smile.

"What better time to cheat!" Arthur laughed. "That's what your father taught me!"

Arthur was older than Dycannus by three years, but they grew at nearly the same rate from the ages of eight and eleven. Even now, only a trained eye would be able to tell them apart in a full suit of armor. Arthur was the first son of King Duncan Belois, the ruler of Belois as well as High King of Dai-Rynn. He was a well known warrior and noble in his youth and was also a respected recruiter and trainer of paladins on the isle of Avalon. Those that heard the call were brought to the Belois court and apprenticed to the king or his aide de camp, Jammel Bane. Jammel, Dycannus's father, and the king had served together in many battles and were the best of friends. They had also grown up together, as Samgar Bane had been the mentor of Maximus Belois. Each family followed Heironeous and brought their names honor by defending the innocent and ruling the paladin kingdom of Avalon justly and fairly for four centuries.

"Why have you never returned to the court, Dycannus?" Arthur asked. "Your parents still serve my father in Silverbow. It gets lonely in that big castle all alone."

"Is that why you are moving to the front?" Duncan asked. "Because you are bored or because you have a death wish?"

"I have improved since we were children, Sword Arm," Arthur bragged. "I'm sure I could best a simple cleric." The challenge did not go unnoticed, but an older and wiser Dycannus didn't feel the need to prove himself anymore to his older friend.

"I'm sure you can," Duncan agreed sincerely, "but if you best me, who will heal your wounds from leaving your ribs exposed?"

"How did you know I still do that?" Arthur yelled happily. "Damn you priest! You have the Sight!"

"No," Duncan disagreed, "I just remember how you never listen to teaching."

As the wine was poured and the dishes were brought out, the conversation moved to Duncan's friends. Arthur inquired with much curiosity of how such a varied group came to be allies.

"Your name is familiar to me, Lady Swordwraith," the prince confided. "I never made it past the second round of the Lance board tournaments. My teachers say I am too aggressive in battle to become a strategist."

"Aggressive and stupid do not have to go hand in hand," Sivora said between chews. When most of the sound stopped, she quickly added, "uh, your majesty…"

"They do when I have a game board in front of me," Arthur chuckled. Sivora let out a breath and a smile. She had to remind herself that she wasn't just one of the guys; this was practically an affair of state. She was not in her element, but the food was fabulous and the company could have been worse.

"Don't mind her, your majesty," Zander interrupted, "such brutal warriors have their place on the battlefield, but have no skills when it comes to conversation."

"A bard of your worldly experience must know that I am famous for dining in the guard barracks then," Arthur responded matter of factly, but not condescendingly. He was an excellent diplomat, both making people comfortable while also maintaining an air of royalty. Everyone was impressed by him, as he seemed much older than his years. His face was not as smooth as one would guess from his age and his voice carried a bit of gravel to it. His hair was neatly cut and may have been blonde at one time, but now was leaning more towards a mousy brown. His shoulders were not a broad as Duncan's or even Sivora's, but he moved with grace and dexterity and appeared to be a very capable fighter and athlete.

"I know many tales of your father and grandfather's adventures," Zander said, still trying to make a good impression on the very important man. "I can sing of them later if you wish."

"I would think you could find a better subject than those of my bloodline, Tamizander," he replied gently, "but I would very much enjoy and appreciate a performance for later in the evening."

"One that can charm a bard is a very dangerous man, indeed," Tarin said softly to Edea. She snorted slightly while taking a bite of game hen. The two of them were the focus of many stares from around the table although they had consented to wear some fresh clothes to dinner and not the bloodstained armor they'd been sleeping in for the past few months.

"I wonder if he plays a lute as well as the pretty one." Edea replied under her breath.

"I'll ask him," Tarin replied and began to clear his throat. He quickly stopped when he felt something cold against the flesh above his belt and realized his new shirt had a discreet hole (and the tip of a more discreet blade) in it. Nevertheless, the noise brought the attention directly to him, which is not where he was comfortable being.

"You had something to say, ranger?" one of the other guests asked in a condescending tone.

"Yes, I do," Tarin replied to the haughty woman, now staring at her. "I was wondering why a member of a royal bloodline with a family so famous and rich as to have songs sung of them would bother with a town with ramparts made of dirt and people so honest they do not barter with gold or contracts as one does in a court." His stare did not stop when she looked down at her plate, or when she excused herself during the prince's reply.

"The songs of my grandfather and father take place in areas just like this one," Arthur replied. "The most noble of their deeds were not done by the point of a finger or the signing of a parchment, but with the sweat of their brow, the blood in their veins, and the sharpness of their sword. My desire is to spend time with the people who make up the lifeblood of Belois and to know them, and for them to know me. I cannot rule a populace that I have never met. I cannot be liege to a man who's never pledged an oath to my face."

The directness and the honesty of the answer took Tarin aback.

"Which of your speechwriters fed you that line?" he asked skeptically. "He surely deserves his monthly stipend." Arthur just chuckled.

"I write my own rhetoric, my friend," he said, "so when the crowd hurls rotted fruit they are aiming at the right man." This brought a smile to Tarin's face and he nodded in acceptance. He could see how a man would swear loyalty to such a liege, though he never would.

"And speaking of heroic fathers," Arthur continued, "does our bard know the tale of yours, Blackblade?"

Even Tarin stopped breathing at this point. Arthur had asked innocently enough, but the depth of his knowledge surprised everyone. Sivora, Duncan, and Gun each questioned each other with their eyes, not knowing what he referred to. Edea, her blade now safely back in her sleeve, now reached for Tarin's rough palm under the table. She knew his pain, and also knew what that pain had forced him to abandon, at his own peril. For the son of the High King to know his history would mean he would know the punishment that awaits him in Jinn for treason.

"This ranger's father single handedly killed several hill giants in defense of a town much like this one," Arthur continued. Tarin could not break his stare, fearful of where the story would end. "He was a protector of a town not much smaller than this one and was a capable lawman and forest father, as the elves call them. He fought until the bitter end of his own life, and I did hear that the giant that was unlucky enough to nail him to his cross lost a finger and thumb when he taunted Sir Gavin too close to his mouth."

"What did you call him?" Tarin said, almost accusingly.

"Sir Gavin?" Arthur answered confused. "You did know that your father was a knight under my father? That is how I knew the name, Blackblade. You have cousins in Belois that carry it still."

Everyone could see how this upset Tarin, but only Edea knew to what extent. Gavin Blackblade had been the antithesis of Tarin's real father, Janus, a knight who'd died during combat at a royal tournament. Now, to find out that his mentor and step-father was also a follower of the bonds of knighthood shocked him to his soul. Without a word, he stood.

"I did not know this," he replied calmly, "but I appreciate the enlightenment. I must excuse myself."

"Please," the prince pleaded. "I did not mean to upset you. I beg to you stay and finish the meal. We do not need speak of this again." He stood as well with a hand outstretched in friendship.

"We will not speak of this, that I can promise," Tarin said curtly, but I must be excused." With that, he left quickly, brushing past Raven and Tia as he departed. Edea, not wanting to show the depth of her feelings for the ranger in front of these ignorant strangers, straddled her emotions between rage and heartbreak. Both brought tears to her eyes.

"Gentlefolk, I apologize for this unpleasant turn of events," Arthur said, still standing. "I must apologize foremost to you kind heroes. I did not mean to insult or offend one of your numbers after all you have done to help us in this dire time."

"He's a guarded soul, your majesty" Gun replied, "and a resilient one. I assure you he will deal with his demons and return better for it."

"Thank you, monk," Arthur replied. He looked directly to Edea, "Please pass along my sincerest apologies."

"Uh, yeah," she said, uncomfortable under the man's soft gaze. She knew he meant no harm in the statement, but she also felt wounded by him at the same time. "I'll tell him if I see him."

"Thank you, Edea," he said as he took his seat. The fact that a prince had just addressed her by name dumbfounded her for a moment. The weight of this man's title and importance was more than any of the dregs she'd ever met and here he was, sitting with them as equals and offering an apology to a scruffy ranger with a daddy complex. She went dizzy as she considered all this, and then stopped the spinning with a long drink of wine. A couple of eyes were still on her, but when she finished the glass, her intimidating stare burned them away.

"Now that my boot is back on my foot," Arthur replied sheepishly, "who shall I insult next?"

"You can insult me any time you like, your majesty," Raina purred. She had not been the center of attention in approximately an hour and was getting jealous.

"I could not find an insult for one of your beauty, my dear," he replied quickly, making it obvious that he'd long noticed the half-elf without making it known. A loud clatter of a heavy dish being dropped to the table between Raina and Arthur broke the mood. Raven smiled a coy grin.

"Oops," she said. "A thousand apologies, your majesty. Forgive my clumsiness!"

"No worries," he said, looking up at her. "This meal is so exquisite I'd have eaten it off the floor." This brought a laugh from everyone but Raina, who again lost the attention she craved. She took her fork and mangled a small piece of game on her plate, trying to burn holes in the back of Raven's head. As the older woman walked back to the kitchen to fetch another plate, Tia smacked her hard on her backside.

"That's just mean, Ray" she scolded. Raven just smiled a knowing smile and went back to her business.

The meal and the stories lasted well into the night. After a long day's travel, many of the members of Arthur's party retired to their rooms at the inn, but the crew of adventurers were used to a longer night and the prince made no mention of ending the evening. They had earned their celebration and the prince's wine was just as good as any. The prince told stories on Duncan like how the younger boy would follow him around and answer very seriously when heads of state would address his father commonly.

"You actually believed the king of Argoth was talking to you!" he howled, making Duncan turn red although the time was more than fifteen years passed.

"But which of us stopped sharing their parent's bedchamber first?" Duncan replied, drawing hearty laughter from Sivora, Gun, Edea, and Zander. Tia and Raina just shared embarrassed looks, but were both more and more taken with the easy-going prince and didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"It would have been longer, but I had to move out because you were always wedged between them in their bed consulting on foreign affairs!" Arthur roared, spilling his mug of ale on himself. Duncan couldn't keep a straight face and let wine spray from his tightly closed lips.

"Bastard," he said under his breath.

"Got you drinking, Bane!" Arthur called out. The next several minutes were spent explaining the rules of a rather rude game they played together during state dinners and trying to make officials and each other spit their drink profusely across the room in laughter. It was also revealed that Arthur's father, the High King, was so far ahead he'd have to be dead for years before the boys caught up to his marks.

As the night wore on, the prince continued to drink regular ale while the band of warriors emptied his elven wine. The stories lasted well into the night until dawn when Zander, Edea, and Gun skulked back to the inn having had all the fun they could have. Raina and Tia had worked their way to either side of the prince and had also drifted off to sleep on bearskin rugs next to the fireplace. All that was left was Sivora, Duncan, and Arthur.

"You are welcome to use the bedrooms here," Arthur offered.

"If we wanted to do that, we'd move those chicks and use the rug," Sivora replied drunkenly. Arthur and Duncan met eyes and laughed hard. Duncan was shoved to the ground by a hard chuck to the shoulder. "What the hell are you laughing at?" Sivora demanded.

"He meant to sleep off your drink, Red," Duncan said from the ground. Her face flushed with a moment of clarity, she crossed her legs and put her head in her hand. Arthur chuckled.

"Now's not the time to tell about when you bedded that lady in waiting and got her kicked out of the court," Arthur said more to Sivora than to Duncan.

"Oh please," Duncan said, now quite comfortable with his place on the stone floor, "you wouldn't know a good time if it hopped on your face and wiggled. Your fear of having a hundred bastard children takes the juice from your loins!"

"No," he corrected, "the well softened hands of my chamber maid takes the juice from my loins!"

Sivora threw back her mane of red hair and laughed at his candor. She'd been in the presence of royalty and sat through official celebration dinners for her championships. Everyone seemed so afraid to make a false move, in case the rest of the room would know they were nothing but unremarkable flesh and blood if a fart were to slip out, but this man needed to prove nothing. He was a prince, and a future king, and would be if he'd been born to paupers.

"You know," she said, "there are other places to have a woman that do not risk a bastard child."

"True enough, my beauty," he said, "but those ways tend to lead to funny walks and persistent rumors."

"Give me a month to train those girls," she offered. "I'll drill 'em into shape. Another roar of laughter from the two men made her realize her gaffe again. Red-faced she screamed, "You know what I meant, damn it!"

"How about we test my theory," Duncan said. "Jump up there and wiggle, Red." She closed her fist and made a bruise on his thigh. The pain didn't stop his laughter, but it was a lot less enjoyable.

"With you, I'd recognize a bastard son," Arthur said, reaching over and taking Sivora's unclenched hand. "Every army needs a capable general."

"I ain't ruining my body for no brat," Sivora exclaimed. "Not until I'm done with fightin' and I am far from done with that."

"Amen," chimed in Duncan, who'd brought his drink to the floor with him and tried to drink from it lying down. It was about as successful as you'd imagine. Sputtering wine out of his nose and eyes, he got up. "I need to sleep for about three days."

"Aye, cleric," Arthur agreed. "Perhaps when you awake you will come and cast me out of my slumber."

"Better than that," Duncan offered, "I'll leave Sivora here. You'll never be so glad to be awake than when you see that red hair on your pillow."

"Awww," she said, the alcohol making it more difficult than usual to hold onto a grudge. "I wouldn't want to rob you of the pleasure, Sword Arm." She joined him in a heap on the floor.

"I'll retire then," Arthur said. He rose and walked over to the tangle of arms and legs that was his friends on his new floor. Reaching down to take an outstretched hand, he clasped it firmly. "I've missed you, brother. You should have come home when you finished your journey."

"I am in the middle of my journey, Arthur," Duncan said, holding his best friend's eyes. "But I am glad that our paths have crossed again."

"I admire you still, Dycannus, as much as I do our fathers," Arthur confided. In spite of the ale he'd been consuming, his wits were very clear. "Our land needs you and your friends. I hope you will not be moving on soon."

"I won't be going anywhere with this on top of me," Duncan laughed. He reached over with his free hand, lifted Sivora's arm, and dropped it heavily on the ground. She was out like a doused torch.

"Then there will be nothing to rouse me from my well earned sleep," Arthur said, releasing his friend's hand. With the last sip of ale left in his mug, he lifted it and toasted. "Here's to friendship, stronger than blood."

"Amen," Duncan replied, and let his head hit the floor and let sleep take his mind.

1992.05.01 Night Dreams and Such Part II

In your dream, a tall figure with a golden mask greeted you, saying "There are many rooms in the house of the Master. Be easy, for from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you." It seemed you had died and could see yourself laid upon a table lit by candles. But with your own hands you touched the figure, and the figure drew breath, opened eyes, and rose from the table. Then the room was gone, and the world filled with light, and you awoke.

On top of you still is a slumbering Sivora. She smells of elven wine and you are positive that you do as well. The dream has left you disoriented and confused. This dream brought the previous one with the golden masked figure flooding back into your mind. How odd that you had forgotten it completely. Inhaling, you remember why. The woman on top of you had woken up as well.

That wasn’t going to be the case here, though. Even if she did awaken, the floor of the prince regent’s new abode in Belfort wasn’t the place for it, brother or not. Not that you really have the strength anyway. Between the wine still flowing through you and the strange dream, you couldn’t get Sivora off of you without a great deal more concentration and effort than you currently care to muster. There are also two sleeping maidens on the other rug. It appears that Tia and Raina hadn’t woken up yet either.

Mulling things over in your head, you wonder what the meaning of these dreams is. You don’t recall having recurring dreams ever before. What did the figure mean by the ‘hands of your enemies’? Wasn’t he talking to the dead in the first dream? Weren’t you dead in this dream? And who’s this ‘Master’?

Now, you are starting to wonder a little harder. Still, you decide that the wine is just overpowering you for the moment and that things’ll be clearer, and less painful, in the morning…or afternoon. 1992.05.02

Coming to Terms

Crack!

"Who in the Nine Hells does he think he is!" the ranger screamed.

Crack!

"He doesn't know my father!" he cried.

Thwack!

"A Blackblade would never serve a paladin!" he bellowed.

Smack!

"HE DOESN'T KNOW ME!" Tarin screamed. Another "CRACK!" followed and then a "THUD!". Labored breaths were coming from the hill giant, unlucky enough to assault the solitary traveler with a chip on his shoulder. After he made a noise giving away his presence, he never knew what hit him. It was a one sided battle. Tarin reached down and grabbed the pelt of the man-beast, bringing his face close to the mortally wounded monster.

"He doesn't know me!" he seethed, and then spit in the creature's unconscious face. It was dead. Tarin rustled through the sack of belongings. He found several coins and a bejeweled necklace that would probably fetch a handsome price. He also found a short sword and dagger, probably left from the last adventurer that he ambushed. The ranger stored away all of his gains and heaved the heavy axe upon his shoulders. From the right smith, these weapons paid handsomely as well. After one more swift kick to the groin of the creature, and Tarin continued on his path.

His footsteps were guided by Obad-Hai. He traveled lightly on a path that no one other than a woodsman could find. Even weighed down, his agility through thick undergrowth was so adept it seemed as if the brambles and thickets moved out of the way of his feet before they could land. He reached a clearing in the woods, one not made by man or creature but by the gods. In the clearing, there stood a solitary tree. Tarin took the axe and slammed it into the bark. Again and again he hit the tree until the thing fell to the forest floor. It took him hours, but he managed to smooth down the remaining stump into a flat surface three feet from the ground.

With the heavy work done and a thick musk of sweat in the air, the woodsman leapt onto the stump in a cross-legged position. He had only a dagger and a thick piece of the tree bark in his hands now. While the sun rose higher and then descended, Tarin worked and worked the piece of wood into a lute. As if he'd done this ritual a thousand times, his completion coincided perfectly with the sunset. He brought the instrument to his lips, closed his eyes, and began to play.

In a mind as closely guarded as his, Tarin had to often fool himself into letting his defenses down. With a very few trusted allies, he didn't have friends, did he share his past or his feelings. This wasn't because he didn't want to be closer, but he didn't know much of it himself. Without his musical meditation, his memories were locked so deeply in his heart that his former life was like a dream he could not remember upon waking. The emotions were still fresh on his brow, but the images were just out of his reach. Now, in this quiet place, surrounded by nature, the dream would float back on the wind and present itself for him to see.

He saw his world at ten years old. Months removed from his father's funeral, his mother and he moved to the northern end of Jinn, into the frontier. It was there they met with Gavin Blackblade, the ranger. Tarin saw him again through an adult's eyes. He was a distinguished man and he carried himself not like a woodsman, but like a nobleman. His manner and speech was not one of a man who'd spent his life surrounded by gnolls and bugbears. The introduction was short, and was just for him. His mother seemed to know Gavin before they arrived at the town. Why did he not notice this before now? When had she met him before? How long had she known him?

His memory flashed to a night when he was pretending to sleep, but was instead listening at the door to his room. His mother and Gavin were talking about how hard young Tarin had taken his father's death. They also talked of the anger he felt for the king and the traditions of court. His mother cried, fearful that the boy's temper and lust for justice would burn him up until he took on the king and was punished for it. Gavin did not react as one would who didn't have a deep empathy for the woman. He held her hand through the telling, as if he knew the story well. Now that he saw the scene from a ghost's perspective, he didn't even speak. He just smiled and nodded at the woman, knowing what she needed him to do.

It was the next day that he awoke Tarin just before dawn and walked him out into the woods. He spoke to the boy like he was already a man, one capable of making his own way. Tarin remembered appreciating the candor and the warmth he felt for the man radiated in his chest as he played. The conversation was as real as the day it happened. This was the day Tarin would choose to become a ranger. Tarin concentrated hard, and hung on every word.

"Tarin, I know you are angry, but anger does not serve the strong," Gavin told him. "Anger serves the weak and impotent. Those who can find no other strength turn to rage, but it is fleeting. To be truly strong, you must find determination beyond rage."

"Hate for the king is all that fills my mind," the boy said. Hearing his own voice before it had the rough edge of hard living was startling to hear, but yet it rung in his ears.

"I know what you feel," Gavin confided. "I too lost faith in that way. I was lost for years, wandering from place to place trying to find my path."

Tarin did not remember this part of the conversation. He'd only hung onto a small portion of the words. He now listened to the man as if for the first time, drinking in the wisdom of the words.

"I fought in battles against men who were not my enemy and for things that I could not say I believed in. I lost heart and could no longer follow my liege, like you now cannot. Also like yours, he bode me farewell and sent me to find my path. In serving myself, I would ultimately serve him."

He'd always assumed he meant his god, but he didn't. Gavin had served another king as a soldier. At the age where he was only wrapped up in himself and his own worries, Tarin did not inquire into his soon to be stepfather's past. He'd made the assumption that he'd always been a woodsman and had always followed the path of a ranger because he was so skilled. Now, through years of separation, his ears heard the whole truth.

"I found myself in these woods," the elder man continued. "Obad-Hai spoke to me and calmed my heart. He cured my blindness and erased my regrets. I studied his way like I had studied the way of my father, thirsty to acquire skill and even more thirsty for acceptance. He accepted me like a new father, like I accept you now."

These were the words he remembered. "Tarin, I want you to become my son, and learn the ways of Obad- Hai. I want you to try the path of the ranger."

Looking back, he'd made the conversation the night before about them, and that this was Gavin asking him for permission to marry his mother. It wasn't at all about a romantic love for the man and woman, but about a parental love for him. His mother promised herself to the ranger for his sake, and in his happiness she'd find her own. It explained why when Gavin later passed that she returned to the king's court. Her place was never in the woods, it was at the castle. She brought him to Blackblade because something about his past was so similar to Tarin, that he would be able to give him sympathy where no one else could relate to him.

Instead of going forward, his mind went back again. He was again at their introduction. His mother was speaking.

"Tarin, I want you to say hello to Sir Gavin."

"Hello, Gavin, sir," the boy replied.

"No honey, it's…" his mother began, but the ranger stopped her with a motion. He smiled down at Tarin.

"Hello back, Tarin, sir."

Midnight had passed and the growling of his empty stomach brought him back from his trance. Usually he indulged in his pain, finding inspiration in beating it back with his quarterstaff and willing himself to live. Now he'd actually seen the past through different eyes, and was wiser for it. His head spun and his mouth was dry, but the memories did not fade. He felt more whole than when he began his ritual, and that had never happened. His connection with Obad-Hai had finally cleared, and the nature god was able to guide him, if only to see clearly what his mind had clouded over.

"Sir Gavin," he mumbled. "Gavin, sir. I always called him that, even as he lay dying. Gavin, sir…"

The revelation made him want to run back to Belfort and burst through the door and make the prince tell him everything about Gavin Blackblade. How did he come to serve in Jinn if he was from Belois? Who were his step-cousins who still lived there? What was the event that made him turn from soldiery? Why did the king let him leave without branding him a traitor? Did King Jinn allow him the same amnesty now? He imagined looking at the young royal and barraging him with all of these questions. His heart burned to know the answers, but he knew there was someone else he had to see first. He had to see her, to tell her, his only confidant. She had to know.

"He was a knight," he whispered to her behind the inn. "I addressed him wrong the first time we met and he never corrected me. He didn't want my illusions to cloud his teachings. The prince was right, Gavin Blackblade was a knight."

Her eyes stayed wide with the coming story and the change in Tarin's demeanor was unmistakable. He spoke of the past as if it had just happened, things he'd never shared before. It was as if he'd awoken from a long trance and she was the first to catch his sight. His mother married for his benefit, moved from the comfort of the court to the deep woods, just so he could apprentice a knight turned ranger. How when he was of age, he was sent to the castle for squire training although he was a woodsman and would never have been accepted. He'd always assumed it was out of debt for his real father, but it was out of respect for his step-father.

"He was showing me that my peace did not come from my path," Tarin said giddily. "He did not want me to live in isolation, but to find my way by exploring my own different sides. He grew past his hatred for soldiery, and if it weren't for the attack by the giants, I might have done the same."

To see someone come to terms with his life in the span of a day was like watching a dried up river begin to flow without the benefit of a storm. Edea was in shock, and in awe.

"I have to talk to the prince," he said. "I have to find out more. I need to tell him…"

The last words broke her heart a little. She caught her breath quickly and suppressed a tear. She was his confidant, the one he trusted with his guarded heart. And because he trusted her, she could trust him with her insecurity and her own flaws and faults knowing that he would see none. If he opened himself to the world, he may expect her to do the same. What if she couldn't? What if he found he loved his new prince and would change his path to knighthood? What if he became what he'd so feverishly despised, thought wrongly, for all these years?

"I need to tell him that I'm sorry for my reaction," Tarin continued. "I need to know, if I can, what happened to my father, so I can understand why he was able to love me. Then, maybe, I can figure out what I have to do…" He stopped and took her lovely face into his soiled hands, "to be able to love you."

She wanted him to kiss her again, like he did in the forest so long ago. She wanted to embrace like they did then and not let go so quickly this time. She wanted so much at that moment, that she could only say one thing.

"Go," she whispered.

He left her standing there, making his way in a dead run to the prince's house. She felt cold and naked without him, the night breeze seeping right through her clothes and touching her skin with clammy fingers. She pulled her cloak around her tighter and walked in the opposite direction. He was now on his path. The Tarin she'd known was distracted. He was avoiding his life, guarding his heart, and unwilling to see his true self. Now he would change to someone else. He would emerge, like a butterfly from a cocoon, beautiful and free to fly to wherever he pleased. Even worse, when he freed himself from his self-imposed prison, she knew that she'd love him even more. With all the questions that had raced in her mind, only one remained.

What if he was ready to love her, and she wasn't? 1992.05.09

I Never Thought

Ronald Groot was the owner of the Bronze Halberd, an establishment that was the first of its kind in Belfort. Since Belfort was such a small town and just off the Old Road, it was often visited by those who wanted a drink and a bed, but never for more than a few nights. Ron was also the cook for the establishment, and by the size of his waist seemed to spill more down his throat than on his floors. Since the Prince Artorious had moved into town, another proprietor had set his sights on a tavern and had moved into one of the old guard's barracks and set up shop. Ron didn't like confrontation or competition, because he was often the loser in both situations. Right now he was watching one of his pretty young barmaids clean up one of his many spills in the kitchen.

"By the way, missy, this is yer last day in the kitchen. You've been kicked upstairs," Ron told the little waitress bending over in front of him. She was young enough to be his daughter, from his second marriage, but he still thought she was a nice little prize to look at.

"What is that supposed to mean!" Tia shouted at him, throwing her rag into his belly. Tiara Leigh was Groot's most popular waitress at the Halberd. Everyone called her Tia, and she was a business magnet. At just barely 18 years, she had blossomed in all the right places for attracting male attention. Her youthful face and big eyes made her look even younger than she was. Although Groot did not have a prostitute for his inn, she was not about to be the first. She had experience with that life working in her father's in when she was just fifteen. One night, a friend had saved her from it, and she would die before she would be going back.

"Easy girl, I wouldn't do that to you," Ron lied. If he thought her virtue could be rented, he'd take every piece of gold he could get for her tight little body. "His royalness has requested that you serve him at the residence." If he was going to lose his little crowd pleaser, better it be to the prince than to the competition.

"Really?" she squealed. Although Ron had given her an honest job when she was broke and depressed, a new girl in a new town, his eyes were wandering a bit more than before and she was growing wary of his intentions. Serving at the residence of Prince Artorious was a chance to improve her station and serve people with manners. "When do I start?"

"Now, I suppose," Groot replied glumly. He was starting to think that the price he'd asked for was too low for her service. He was always a bad negotiator. She must have been worth more than 60 gold coins. "You know, if you don’t like it, you just tell 'em and I'll have you back."

"I'll remember," she said politely, but quickly as she shed the white bonnet, pigtails, and green apron that were standard dress for the girls at the Halberd. She'd decided to give the too-short green shorts back later. No way was she going to strip them off in front of Ron. She hurried out of the kitchen and up to her room. She found her roommate, Simone, sleeping off her usual night shift. Tia knew she was there, because her mane of raven black hair poured over the pillow and out of the covers indicating that her bed was not just unmade, but occupied.

"Raven, Raven!" she cried as she popped through the door and onto the foot of their bed. A quick kick from the bed's occupant through the covers sent Tia into the floor in a heap.

"Get lost, pup" growled a surly and sleepy voice.

"Aw, come on," Tia said as she got back to her feet, although not making the mistake of getting too close again. "I've got news!"

"Someone's dead?" asked the voice.

"NO!" the girl replied as Raven pulled the covers over the rest of her head.

"Someone lookin' to be?"

"That's awful, Rae!" Tia scolded. Although the other woman was nearly fifteen years her senior, it was often Tia doing the correcting and Raven taking the scolding. Resigned to the fact that she was not going to discourage the excited girl, Raven pushed the covers off and met the sun with blinking eyes and a big yawn. She sat up and looked at Tia, still wary and across the room, out of leg range.

"So," she said, "what's so damn important?"

"Rae, the prince wants me to work at the residence!" she screamed as she stripped out of the rest of her revealing uniform. The noise was not good for Raven's hangover. "Oh, can you believe it? I'll get to go there every day and see all of the nobles and dignitaries and get to wear a demure outfit and look nice…" She continued to undress and get read for a bath and would have kept rattling on and on had Raven not put up her hand to stop the tirade.

"Pup," she started, "you are trading a class of folk who say what they mean for a class that don't. They might grab your ass, but they'll tip you well. I'm not sure I'd call your move an upgrade, and I never would have thought after Rimule that you would either."

"That's not true!" Tia said back. She wasn't in the mood to have her excitement extinguished. "The prince is a good man and everyone thinks so. We served him when he came to town and he didn't grab me once!"

"You were so drunk when you came home, I'm sure you wouldn't remember," Raven reminded her. "You know that he's not the only one you'll be 'serving' though hot stuff. Most likely they'll have you on your back for heads-of-state in a week." Raven had the right to be sour, but at times like this she took it too far. She was at one time the owner of a place twice as popular and profitable as the Bronze Halberd where she now shared a shift with the younger girl. She and Tia had come from a medieval metropolis called Rimule that bustled with merchants, royals, and wealthy wanderers as far as the eye could see. It was successful and she was rich, but an unjust prince not much different than this one took it all from her to strike a blow at her friends. When he was done, she was banished from her home, robbed of her business, and all because she ended up on the wrong side of a royal. She wasn't going to have that happen again by trusting some fool who'd been born to the right bitch.

"He won't make me do that!" she screamed at Raven. "I won't do that ever again. Not for ANYONE!!" Standing with her towel around her body and fists clenched, Tia began to cry very hard. "Val saved me from father and took me away from that life and I won't go back ever!" The maternal instincts that Raven fought so hard to suppress kicked in through her morning fog. She held her arms out and motioned for the small girl to fall into them. When she did, Raven rocked Tia back and forth until her sobs began to die down. Raven didn't know why that lately she had to make everyone as unhappy as she was. She had accomplished her mission just now, but felt worse, not better. She held Tia for a few minutes longer, and helped her up to dry her eyes.

"Sorry, doll baby," Raven said looking down at 'her girl'. Tia's big eyes were good at busting through that hardened wall around the older woman's heart. "You know I'm no good before noon. Mean as a dragon…"

"and breath just as bad," Tia finished, knowing her standard apology well. This was not the first time, nor the last, that she'd hear it.

"Alright," Raven said back, rolling her eyes, "so I'm repeating myself. Let's get you in the bath and you can tell me again about this job of yours." ------

At dusk, about an hour before most of the town would settle down for dinner, Tia reported to the prince's residence. It was formerly the mayor's home, but he'd vacated it with the hopes of serving the prince at the more comfortable and safe palace court. A month after he left the news came that the prince planned to move to the frontier so he could better understand his people and the threats they face. How ironic the game of politics can be to those that try to beat it. The captain of Prince Artorious' guard, a powerfully built knight named Aaroll, was in charge of fortifying the house. A lot of alterations were being made to the entire town because of a savage attack by the Wild Clans just weeks ago. It was getting to be summer, so the missing walls did not affect the residents of the house as much as it seemed it should.

She wore her nicest dress; a silk white gown detailed in small red roses, and hoped she got to wear it for the prince. It was said that he was very close to his staff and that he liked to meet those who worked for him personally. She'd soaked for an hour and had gotten out of the bath less than an hour ago to preserve the scent of the oils she'd bought to put in her water. She spent the entire walk over to the house trying to remember details about him from the first night he arrived, but Raven was onto something when she said that elven wine erased your memories. She couldn't even remember the color of his hair. She knocked at the front door and was greeted by the prince's manservant.

"May I help you, miss?" he said in a low, official tone of voice. Tia couldn't quite tell if it was disapproving, but she thought it was.

"I'm Tiara," she replied with a voice so high it almost squeaked. She was a confident girl who'd cheated death more than once, but right now she felt small and helpless under the eyes of this gray-haired judge.

"I am George, miss. Are you here to see his majesty," the man replied, more telling than asking.

"Uh, no," Tia said, unsure of herself now. "I mean, well yes. I think he asked for me. Ron Groot, at the Halberd told me to come. I'm supposed to, well, uh…" Tia stammered for a few seconds, and then decided that uncomfortable silence was better than noisy gibberish, so she stopped. Her palms were getting clammy and her face was getting hot. What if Ron was playing a trick on her?

"You are from that tavern man?" George asked looking her up and down in her closely fitting, sleek white dress.

She was able to get out a small "yes".

"This way," George replied and led her through the door. She had to step past three masons reinforcing the archway with stone and a few woodworkers building in arrow slits in case the home had to serve as a fort during another attack. There were several others in the house, people with papers and leather bound books under their arms and in front of their faces. It reminded her of school, what little experience she had with it. She followed George, hoping that a familiar face would appear to give her comfort, but it didn't. She thought her bard friend Tamizander was working for the prince as well now, but she didn't see him. She hoped she would run into him later, just so she wouldn't have to talk to George.

George led her past the kitchen that she was familiar with and to the back of the residence. They walked right past the dining room and the kitchen, and Tia was getting confused. As her mind began to race, she feared that he was going yell at her and kick her out of the back of the house so as to not make a scene in front of all the workers. She was becoming more and more positive of this fact until he reached a room at the very end of the house, unlatched the hook, and pushed it open. The room inside was a lavish bedroom with deep red cherry wood furniture and a huge bed sitting in the center. The curtains were open and faced where the sun would rise in the morning. Off to the side was a private bathing room with fresh water in the basin and a steel tub. The wardrobe was bigger than Tia could reach across with both of her arms outstretched. It was fabulous.

"Is this were I'll stay?" she said in wonder.

"It is," he replied drolly. "Please wait here until it is time." He began to walk out the door when she stopped him.

"Shouldn't dinner be getting started about now?" she asked, confused. "Do you think I'm properly dressed? I really want to do a good job."

"Everyone in this house has a role," he replied sternly, "and yours is to stay here until your services are required. I'm sure his majesty will let you know what you need to do."

With that, he left the room and closed the door hard behind him. George didn't like her, but she couldn't figure out why. She didn't think she'd made that big a fool of herself and she tried to stay right on his heels through the house because he seemed to be in a hurry to get rid of her. Maybe the staff just wanted her to watch how they served dinner from the kitchen so she could learn it and stay out of the way in the meantime. That's probably it, but why did he say the prince would tell her? Well, George was old and he had to be confused.

She marveled at the room, dipping her fingers into the basin. The water was warm! It must have been poured just before she arrived. She walked over to the armoire. The wood was a deep red and it was so smooth to the touch she rubbed her hands and cheek against it. Laughing, Tia opened the doors and noticed the dresser was full of finely tailored clothes. Thinking that one of them had to be her uniform, she pulled out two handfuls of hangars and held them to her body. They were too big, and worse than that, they were men's clothes. This was not a servant's changing room, this was someone's bedroom, and he was big.

"Where am I?" she thought. George didn't seem like the kind of person to show her to the wrong room, but he'd already confused the prince with a butler. While she thought about it, she heard the door unlatch and start to push open. Scared that she was in the wrong room and the man whose clothes she was holding would think her a thief; she jumped into the wardrobe and pulled the doors to. Now she was trapped in a man's closet and he was there. If she couldn't explain herself, George may call her a robber just to cover his own mistake. She could only hope that he was just coming in for a moment before dinner and she could escape after he left.

There was enough space to see just a bit through the doors. She spotted him walk over to the basin and splash a considerable bit of it onto his face. His face was handsome and smooth. He was much younger than George, but still probably ten years older than Tia. He removed his damp shirt and showed off a chest full of muscles and bronze shoulders from years of sun exposure. Tia caught her breath quickly. He was very attractive! He looked into the mirror and rubbed his face with his hands again. He was saying something to himself, muttering, like he was trying to figure out a riddle that he couldn't get out of his head. He let his head fall forward and hit the mirror while he spoke to the water, tracing his finger around in circles in the pool.

Suddenly, he threw his head back and stood straight. One more rub of his eyes and he was headed for the wardrobe. OH SHIT! He was coming right at her and loosening the sword belt on his pants. He was coming for his clothes! She froze, unable to stop him from advancing and panicked with the fear of what was going to happen when she was discovered. He grabbed the space in between the doors and flung them open.

"Great gods!" he said as he spotted the crouching girl in his wardrobe. He reached for the hilt of his sword. "Who are you?!"

Crying, Tia tried to explain herself. "I'm not here to rob you, I was brought here, and left, and I think I'm in the wrong place, but I was looking at your clothes and I got scared and I hid and I saw you and you're so handsome and I, I, I…" her voice got lost in her sobs as she kept focusing on his hand on the hilt of his sword. She might not get a chance to confront George; the massive guard might kill her right here. She was almost surprised a soldier of his size hadn't done so yet.

"Who brought you into my bedroom?" he asked, as puzzled as she was scared.

"The gray man, the manservant," she stammered. His name had leapt from her brain like a cougar from a tree branch.

"I don't know that we have any drow man servants," he said, referring to a rather uncommon elf race known for their gray skin. She didn't react to this and he realized why she wouldn't look at him, he removed his hand from his weapon and offered it to the slip of a girl cowering under his hanging pants. "What is your name, honey?"

"Tia," she said through a sob, her hand in his and stepping out of the massive piece of furniture. She looked up at him through red eyes and a runny nose for some sign of her fate.

"Tia," he said with a pleasant smile, "you smell very lovely." She grinned, her mood lightening with his change in demeanor. He believed her and she wasn't about to be killed for burglary. Her tears stopped coming and she sniffed loudly.

"Thank you," she said politely while giving a small curtsey. "I wanted to smell nice for the prince. It's my first time meeting him."

"Oh really," he said. His blue eyes never wavered from hers. "He's quite the tyrant you know, you'll probably want to get out of here while you can."

She took the hand from his grasp and playfully smacked him on his bare chest. "You stop trying to scare me, I've been here before." she said and sniffed again. "I served him and some of the town's soldiers the night after the big battle and stayed for a time. My goodness, why would you tease me? Haven't you already done enough to quicken my heart?"

"Have I now?" he said back with his eyebrows arched. Her hand had stayed on his chest. The gentle weight of her hand was nothing, but he noticed every detail of the contact.

"I'm going to work here and serve the prince," she said proudly. "Do you mind if I use your basin to clean up?"

"Not at all, Tia," he said, laughing at her sudden comfort with her surroundings. "My room is yours for as long as you need it."

"Thanks!" she chirped and headed off to the bathing room. She examined herself in the mirror and primped her hair. "You gave me an awful fright. You have such nice clothes though! I was looking at them and thought you might take me for a burglar!"

"No, I've met thieves before and only one was nearly as pretty as you."

"Oh! That's Edea!" Tia said, relieved that there was a common ground between her and the soldier. "Isn't she so beautiful? And she's so smart too! I just love her, but she doesn't stay around long to talk to me much."

The soldier had dressed himself in one of the silk shirts; this one dyed a deep, navy blue, and seated himself on the bed, out of sight from the bathing room. He was listening to her carry on while she continued to freshen up and couldn't keep from smiling as she just kept telling him all he would hear.

"I think she likes Tarin, have you met Tarin? He was best friends with a man I knew. His name was Valestis, but I called him Val. He was so handsome, even more handsome than you!"

"I never considered that possible," he replied.

She brought her head around the door. Her face was now back to one even color and she shone with a youthful radiance. Her hair was combed straight down her back and just enough of her neckline showed above her dress to make him want to see more.

"Oh, he was beautiful. He was an aasimar, with glowing eyes that saw right into your soul. When he looked at me, he made me feel like an angel."

"Now I am really jealous," the man replied, comfortably resting on his elbows and waiting patiently for her to finish her routine. "I don't think I could compete with a celestial being."

"He's not with me anymore, he died saving me and my friends," she said calmly. She told him this as a fact, not with a lot of sadness in her words.

"If you'd like, I have plenty of clothes her that you could change into right out here in front of me," the soldier told her, trying to change the subject.

"You better stop teasing or I'll tell the prince his guards are fresh!" she said, laughing at his joke. "You know, no one knows what we're doing in here. Pretty soon that man will come back and find us and I may just have to make up a story! I'm glad that old man didn't walk back here while I was in your bath and you had your shirt off! I don't need any rumors about me since I just started here."

"Me neither, Tia," he agreed. "Being new in town I'd hate for all the men to think I'd already captured the heart of the prettiest girl in Belfort."

"Aww," she said. "I want to kiss you for that! You're too sweet to be a guard. Your momma raised you right."

"Perhaps you will write to her and tell her so," he said, "and don't think I'm not going to try and take you up on that kiss."

"You may get a letter, but don't press your luck," she giggled, imagining that she'd have a reason to see him again if only to ask for where she could send his mother's letter. She was already looking forward to their next meeting. "I never would have thought I'd make a friend on my first day!" she beamed. "I'm going to go to the kitchen to see if they need me yet, do you want to come?"

"Let me walk you," he offered. "It's almost time to eat."

"Does the prince eat with his guards?" she asked. She'd heard he was very un-royal, but she wasn't sure how much were rumors and how much was truth. She'd only had that one night to go on and the details of it were still very hazy in spite of the fact she stood in the same house now.

"Oh, you'll find he keeps strange company," he told her. "I always just hang around the staff looking hungry and eventually someone gives me a scrap or two."

"Well you can always come to me," she said playfully touching his face. "I'll make sure you get fed. I've got to help you keep those muscles strong so you can protect us!"

"Thank you, Tia," he said. She really liked that he kept calling her by her name. He held his arm out and she took it. He swung open the heavy door and led her to the sitting room. There she saw Duncan and Sivora, nibbling on some food and drinking wine. She didn't know whether to break free and say hello, but she figured since she was here in an official capacity, she should probably act professional around the soldier. As if he was reading her mind, he led her right to them.

"Hey guys," she said. Duncan looked at her arm in arm with the soldier and was completely surprised. Sivora didn't bother switching her gaze, she just looked at the man stunned.

"Stop staring, he'll get a big head. He's not even as pretty as Zander!" Tia said teasing. She turned to her escort and explained. "Zander is this bard, and he's about as pretty as Edea! I just love him, but don't trust him at all. He's a cad!" She laughed hard at herself and brought a laugh out of her audience of one. Duncan and Sivora still looked confused. They looked back at each other in astonishment and joined in the laughter.

"Well girl, I knew it wouldn't be all that long," Sivora said, walking to her other side and putting an arm around her shoulders. "You know how to pick 'em! That's springtime you know, everyone finds someone to be with."

"Sivora!" she whispered blushing, "Don't embarrass me."

"Sorry sister," she said laughing. "I'll let you handle this."

A voice came from behind them. It was Zander. "Your majesty, milady." When the couple turned and he saw Tia, the bard stopped in his tracks.

"Oh, Z, there you are! I was looking for you when I came in!" Tia said with her arm still hooked in the older man's. "Meet my new friend! This is… oh my god! I don't even know your name!" Her face turned bright red. "I'm so sorry, I've been talking and talking!" What is it?"

"Since we are friends, and you've told me I'm handsome," he teased, "you can call me Arthur."

"Ha!" she snorted, "I hear that's what people call the prince. Does anyone get you confused?"

"Only the King and Queen," he said, "and a few thousand of my subjects."

Everything went black. The faint came fast and when she came to, Tia realized she was lying on a couch in front of the fireplace with her head in Sivora's lap. Siv was stroking her hair and was talking in a quiet tone to some other people around her. She thought she heard the prince's voice. Tia opened her eyes to confirm what she thought was going on.

"Welcome back, my little charmer," Prince Artorius said to Tia. He was smiling warmly at her from a chair a few feet away. She shut her eyes and rolled into Sivora's stomach, hiding her face.

"I'm such an idiot!" she screamed into Sivora's lap. All anyone else could hear was a high pitched muffle. Then Tia felt a large, strong hand on her.

"Don't do that, sweetheart, George made a mistake," the voice was Arthur's. She knew it now; all the memories of him flooded back from that night a week ago on his first night in town. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have any wine to erase the details of the last hour since she'd met him again. Now she could see every detail of his face even through her tightly shut eyes. She couldn't escape his handsome face or gentle eyes.

"He thought you were sent here to… how should I put this? 'Service' me." This drew a laugh from Duncan, not appreciating the depths of Tia's embarrassment, but really enjoying his best friend's own awkward moment. Tia rolled over to meet his eyes. He was down on one knee at the couch where she lay. His hand was large on her hip and his touch was very comforting. Obviously, he didn't ask for, nor expect, such a service from her. When the whole scene of their meeting replayed again in her head, she scrunched her face up and began to cry again. He put a thumb under her right eye to sweep away the first of the tears.

"Please don't be ashamed, Tia," he said. "I know that you are not of that kind and I do not partake in those facets of royalty. When you are feeling better, George will be in to apologize for his error." She must have been out for a while for him to have already sorted out the situation.

"I'm not mad about that," she said in a whisper. "I'm just embarrassed that I didn't know you and made such a fool of myself in your wardrobe." Obviously, Arthur had not been talking about the scene that happened between them, because she felt several pairs of eyes get much wider in curiosity around her. Now, her embarrassment at an all time high, she hid her face once again in her hands.

"Mm srry" she said behind her hands.

"I speak six languages, Tia," he said, "but that wasn't one of them. Take your face out of your hand and show me those beautiful eyes." She pulled down her hands and he was still there. "We were on our way to dinner and you promised to save me some scraps from the kitchen."

"I don't know now," she said, starting to smile, "you've made an awful fool of me in front of everyone."

"You are right, I deserve to go hungry," he agreed, "but maybe you'll find it in your heart to save some scraps from the meal for my dog."

"You have a dog?" she said, perking up from Sivora's lap.

"Yes," he said, "but you'll have to help him; he never remembers my name either."

"I'll never forget it now, Arthur," she said. It didn't even occur to her to use the more formal greeting. He wasn't her prince at the moment, just her friend, and a very handsome and masculine friend.

"Good," he said pulling her up to her feet. Everyone else stood as well. "Let's eat."

As they walked into the dining room, they passed George standing at the doorway. He looked directly at Tia, again walking arm in arm with the prince. Arthur stopped, although she wanted to keep going. The quicker she forgot about the start to this evening the better.

"I'm terribly sorry for the confusion, miss," he said, very officially. The apology was obviously not his idea. "Please forgive me."

"Thank you," Tia replied uncomfortably. "I'll try to do a good job for you." George looked to Arthur. The prince took her by the hand.

"Tia," he began, "you won't be working here."

"What?" she said. "But Arthur, I…"

"Originally, yes, I asked that you be sent to help in my home, but now I have two problems with you," Arthur said firmly. "One is that I only allow those I hold close, and not on my staff, call me Arthur."

"I'm sorry, your majesty," she said sheepishly and looked down at her feet. He took her head under her chin and made her meet his eyes.

"And the other is that I try not to see the ladies of my staff naked."

Everyone shared glances, forming their own conclusion at the underlying meaning. How much had happened before they'd come out? Everyone that is, but Tia, who was focused on only one part of that statement.

"But Arth, your highness, I saw YOU with your shirt off. You've not seen me naked!" she said indignantly, feeling as if she had to defend her honor.

"I told you to call me Arthur," he said smiling, "and as far as your second statement, I fully intend to court you until I can convince you to help me break rule number two." For a man who must have been in hundreds of tense diplomatic moments, the clumsy come- on was very awkward, and endearing. Tia was finally able to process the information and felt a warm rush start somewhere below her waist and extend out to the top of her head and the ends of her toes. Her face was hot, but she managed a shy smile back at him through red cheeks and twinkling eyes. Inside, she was trying hard to keep from bouncing up and down in excitement. Arthur pulled out the chair next to his at the head of the table and she plopped down into it. Duncan pulled out Sivora's chair next to her.

"Like I said, sugar," Sivora told her as she sat down. "You know how to pick 'em. Shit, I never would have thought it would be you and not the elf to get his attention. He's some catch!"

"Me either! And I'm so glad I decided not to take another bath in his room!" Tia whispered. "Then we'd have no more rules to break!"

Sivora laughed at her and slapped her thigh under the table. "He looks to be willing to make up a few to break with you, sweets," she said. Then the older woman leaned in close and looked across the table at Duncan. "Always leave 'em wanting more," she advised. Tia smiled an incredulous smile back at Sivora and they started laughing.

"Look what you've done, Arthur," Duncan said as he got comfortable in his chair. "You've made both girls giddy."

"Leave me alone, Duncan," the prince replied, "or I'll have you taken outside to be served with the dogs."

"Fine by me," he shot back, "I hear they are served well."

Tia sat back. She'd made a complete fool of herself to the most powerful man she'd ever met, the son of a High King, and now she was sitting to his right like an equal, like a girlfriend. From the dirty beds of her father's inn to the fine dining table of Prince Artorious Belois.

"I never would have thought," she said to herself.

"What was that Tia?" the prince asked.

"Nothing, Arthur," she told him. "Nothing." 1992.05.12 Miss Right Now

The days had been long as of late for the Great Tamizander Kerensky. Not really a scholar by any stretch of the imagination, the knowledge he had picked up over his life usually came because he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be hearing something he shouldn’t. Still, even an unobservant bard is a storehouse of trivial, if mostly useless, information. If only he had known that the endless elven pattering he was exposed to so often when he lived among them would be rewarded by royalty, well, he would have paid more attention to the constant jabbering of the men and not the constant curves of the women. No, he wouldn’t have.

He was a stickler for history, though. That’s where all the best stories come from, even if the facts are embellished a bit from time to time. Like every other bard worth their salt, he’d taken poetic license with a tale or two, or a hundred. As long as the crowd liked it, it didn’t matter. He earned good money, and the ladies loved it.

That was his goal now. He had already been paid handsomely by the prince and now he required a little strange for the evening. Of course, it was all strange to Zander. He couldn’t stay too long in one bed, even his own. There are those whose beds he would love to linger in, but it seldom worked out that way.

He, and every other male who’s ever seen her, fancies the prince’s new girlfriend, Tia. Of all the luck. First, it was the heavenly paladin keeping him from her, and now it’s the prince himself. Then, there’s also quite possibly the most attractive creature he has ever seen in his life, Raina Jade. Even speaking her name almost brings one to climax. She’s a little flighty, but certainly must be aware of the stares that fall upon her wherever she goes. She’s much like her elven heritage in that she’s blossomed physically long before she’s really ready for relationships. She’s got the body of an elven woman and the attitudes of a human teenager. A dangerous combination, for sure.

Zander merely sighs as he heads up the stairwell in the old mayor’s mansion. He’s not going to see Raina tonight. He’s heading upstairs to the bedroom of Nancy, one of the more comely of the scholars and scribes of the prince’s entourage.

They’ve been researching into the ash undead and have found that this kind of uprising has happened before in Avalon a half dozen times at least. They have yet to uncover the origin, but they are making progress.

Tonight, however, there is progress of a different kind to make. Nancy is quite taken with the charming bard. He’s pretty, there’s no doubt, and his speech is colorful and eloquent. He’s quite unlike any of the men she’s spent most of her life around. The teachers and scholars are all dreadfully serious and terribly dull. The bard is like a splash of color on a barren page.

At an early age, Nancy was recognized as being easily smarter than those around her and was sent to apprentice with a wizard. Unfortunately, her talent with the arcane never surfaced and she was instead sent to the Belois Royal Academy. She graduated much sooner than most at age 15 and has been in the employ of the prince for the two-and-a- half years since then.

Having spent most of her life in large rooms filled with scrolls and tomes, she never mastered the social arts, and therefore was easy pickings for the smooth talking bard. Like most of the scribes, she is staying in the prince’s new home. Some are bunking together, but since she is the youngest female, she got a room to her own. The older women took to teasing her that the prince fancied her and she would soon be invited to his chambers. Of course, that all changed when the would-be serving girl came and caught his eye a few days ago.

Her small room is rather spartan and mostly filled with academia, but she does have a mirror and wash bin. Attempting to primp for her date, but not really knowing how, she just makes faces into the mirror while applying what little makeup she owns. Squinting, she realizes that she has to use her spectacles to see well enough to apply the makeup without looking like a clown.

After wiping away the mistake on her face, she put her glasses on and sighed again. She put her hand out as if receiving a visitor. “Hello, Tamizander. Wonderful evening, isn’t it?” She shakes her head. She doesn’t have a window, nor does she recall being outside at all today. She tries again. “Hello, Tamizander. How was your day?” Her hands clench in frustration. She knows how his day was. She spent the vast majority of it with him, staring at his face while he read through the scrolls she collected. She heard the footsteps in the hallway approaching her door. Time for one more attempt. “Hello, Tamizander. Would you like to come in?” That would work. She knew the answer to that question already.

She raised herself from her chair and checked her dress. It isn’t her formal dress, like she wore the night after the battle, but it’s a nice dress and she hopes Tamizander will like it. It’s not revealing, but it is tight enough to show off her developing figure. And from the way Zander has patted her on the rear a number of times, she just assumes that he will like it.

As the bard approaches the last few steps, he can’t help but hope the girl isn’t wearing anything too complicated. That just makes it more difficult in the heat of passion, and he was not getting roped into buying another dress he’d ripped trying to get to the goodies underneath because he couldn’t figure out how to get it off properly.

Knock. Knock.

Nancy merely stares at the door.

Knock. Knock.

Nancy answers the door. She puts her hand out as she practiced and says “Hello Tamizander. Would you like to come?” She stopped her spiel one word short and it sounded rather bawdy. Blood pumped to her face and she froze.

Zander just smiled. He loved it when they couldn’t keep their composure. “Yes, Nancy. But not until after we eat, please”. His wink relaxed her a touch, but she was so embarrassed from her faux-pas that she still just stood there, horrified at what she had said. Zander gently took hold of her arm and brought his face closer to hers.

“Nancy. You do want to eat first, right?” he teased.

This brought her out of her self-induced coma. “Ye-yes” was all she could manage in response.

“Very good then. I packed our dinner. I hope you don’t mind”. Zander picked up a basket he had set down with his other hand and carefully led her to the door, unsure whether or not she could actually walk yet. Or move fluidly in that tight dress of hers. With one hand holding the basket and the other guiding her by her arm, he longed for another hand to place on her well-rounded bottom.

“You look ravishing tonight, my rose” he whispered softly into her ear as he led her down the hall.

The feel of his breath on her neck sent shivers through her already aroused femininity. She tried to respond. “You look, ah…um…”

He gently shushed her and whispered in her ear “I know, my rose, I know”.

Other than the prince’s table, there really wasn’t a nice restaurant in town. The Bronze Halberd served its purpose, but with the absence of Tia, the desire to go there was diminished. Raven was still there and though she was showing more signs of her age, her body told no lies. Zander still hadn’t deduced the proper way to tap that without getting injured in the process. There was another place now, but it was still a day or so from opening up.

He had chosen a grassy spot that while secluded, was still safe in his mind. He’s a lover, not a fighter and didn’t want to have to fight off critters or those damn undead by going too far out of town. Besides, he’d already proven his valor to this girl by fighting in that battle the night the prince arrived. She hadn’t been there, but he made sure she had heard enough about it.

They arrived at the small clearing. He laid out a blanket and led her to the ground. The tight dress made her position a bit awkward, but she slid her legs to the side and got comfortable. Zander placed two wine glasses on the blanket, then a wine bottle, and then he brought out the meal, still hot, from the Bronze Halberd’s kitchen.

There wasn’t much in the way of light during the day anymore, let alone at dusk. Nancy’s eyes wandered left and right and she inched a bit closer to where he sat. Sensing her unease, the bard produced a few candles and lit them with a tinderbox. He could have just cast light on something, but he knew that she had tried her hand at magic and failed. He didn’t want to make her angry and close her legs when he didn’t really have to try all that hard to open them to begin with.

She relaxed and took the utensils that Zander handed her. Zander poured the wine into each glass, and after handing one to her, he raised his glass.

“A simple toast, my beautiful rose. To us. May this night fill your dreams for eternity”.

With that, he took a drink and watched her to make sure she did the same. He didn’t put anything into the wine. It was elven wine and it needed nothing. Having spent a great deal of time in the forests among the elves, Zander had drank his share (and most of Belfort’s share as well) in his day. Practice, he called it. He had to learn how to drink and be able to perform at the same time, a fault that had really cost him his first gig.

It likely wouldn’t take the girl much, even on a full stomach, to become fall-down drunk, so had to make sure she didn’t have too much. He like them conscious so that he could hear them call his name. He smiled at that thought and motioned to the meal as a signal for her to go ahead and eat.

As they ate, the nervous girl went through cycles of prolonged silence and constant flapping of the tongue. The wine was in her head and it showed. Zander had begun pouring her water after her second glass. She was now at the point where if she had much more, she may pass out, but any less and she might notice him casting spells.

After they had finished and he packed up the various items, he produced another blanket from the basket. He laid it down next to the one they were laying on and nearly had to carry Nancy over to it. Folding up the dinner blanket, he placed it back in the basket. The last thing he wanted was to roll over at some point into the sauce or whatever ever else had been spilled onto that blanket while they ate.

It was a little chilly at night, even though summer was on its way. That was all part of the plan though. Between the food and the wine, they should be warm enough, especially when they got closer. Lying down next to her, he gently caressed her face. She stared at him, almost as if paralyzed. He smiled at her and then proceeded to kiss her deeply.

She stopped breathing for an instant and then relaxed. She put a hand on the other side of his head and in the process, ran her fingernails through his well groomed locks. He loved it when they did that. Seizing the moment, he placed a hand on her belly and slowly moved it to her bosom, where he took a firm squeeze and was delighted when she responded by driving her tongue further into his mouth.

He was always ready, and now she was ripe. Glancing down while continuing to kiss her, he tried to discern the workings of the garment she was wearing. Seeing no buttons or ties or anything in the front, he knew he would have to get her off her back before getting her back on it.

Faking like he was muttering tender lovelies in elven, he cast ghost sound into the brush surrounding them. Nancy almost jumped to her feet and wrapped both arms completely around Zander. The plan worked. Had she been sober, she likely would have known what he was up to. Now he could get to her back and undo the trappings of her dress.

She was still startled though, so he had to deal with that first. “Not to fear, my rose. I will protect you”. He was wearing his armor, and had his rapier now in hand. He flashed the blade before her eyes so she could see it. Releasing her, he stepped to the brush and acted like he was searching for the culprit.

Turning, he said “Nothing in there but a few squirrels. We should let them be.” He tossed his rapier to the blanket as he made his way towards her. “Now where were we?”

He embraced her and kissed her again, staying upright while he undid the various contraptions on the back of her dress. Nothing complicated, thankfully. Then, with one fluid (and well-practiced motion), he broke from the lip lock and slid the dress from her all the way down to the ground. It required a bit of effort since it hugged her form so well, though.

She said nothing, just looked into his eyes as he took her in. She had opted against any under garments because they were easily noticeable under the conforming dress. It was the first time she had ever done that in her life. Even he was a bit surprised by that fact, though he had figured it out long before now with a few strategically placed pats and caresses.

She had a lovely figure. Her breasts hadn’t filled out yet, but her slim frame curved in all the right places and her shapely rear just begged to be slapped. At least according to Zander, that is. After properly appraising her figure from all angles, he finally pulled her toward him.

He began to undress himself as her hands were shaking too much to do it properly. He managed to let loose his cape and his trousers. When his pants came off, her hands lustfully grabbed his bum and brought them even closer. Fumbling with the straps on his armor, she topped him saying “No leave it on. I like it.”

Leading her to the ground, he whispered to her “As you wish my rose”.

At some point, she ended up on top of him and while she was doing the work, he paid attention to her small, but lovely breasts. She called his name over and over, but softly, in a throaty, carnal way that didn’t carry far. He was nearing the end of his stamina again and called her name quietly.

“Oh Raina” he said.

She stopped and looked at him. “Nancy. Who’s Raina?” but she knew who Raina was. “Is this some kind of one night stand?”

“What, Nancy no. I love you, I’ve always loved you. Ever since I first saw you staring at me while pretending to read ‘The Annotated History of the Second Age of Avalon’.” Those words might come back to haunt him, but the wine still flowed through her and it was doubtful she would remember all of the evening.

She began kissing him again and grinding her pelvis into his. “Oh Tamizander” she moaned. “Oh Raina” he moaned back.

She stopped again. “Nancy” she said, confused.

He grabbed her and continued the motions that she had stopped. In a few seconds, she hit her limit and forgot what her own name was. “Whatever” he replied while he finished.

He looked over at her while dressing. She was still wrapped up in the blanket, asleep now after only having been finished for a few minutes. Zander knew he would have to carry her back at this point. Hell, he might even dress her first. She was a nice girl, and was an absolute tigress for one so inexperienced.

After he clumsily dressed her as much as needed and after he wrapped her back up in the blanket, he looped an arm through the basket and then scooped her up. He was no bulky warrior, but she was just a slip of a girl and he could easily manage her weight. Gazing down at her again, she mumbled, dreaming “Yes, Tamizander, I’ll marry you”.

He sighed. Hopefully, the wine would erase some of her intent. Still, this wasn’t the first time Zander had been in this situation, and it was doubtful that this would be the last either. Zander frowned at the idea of marriage. Too constrained, he thought. Although, waking up in the arms of this doll every morning would certainly not be a bad thing. He wasn’t searching for Miss Right, though. His sights have always been set on Miss Right Now.

1992.06.02 While I Was Away

Valestis awoke to nothing. For days all he had known was pain. Pain beyond physical limits. Pain beyond that which the mind could fathom, let alone endure. Pain that first tore his flesh, then seared his mind, and then shattered his very soul. Am I dead? I am dead. Finally, peace! I can finally rest. He looked around him. Nothing. He wasn’t even sure where he was. This was not the same sensation he felt when the assassin left him dying on the floor of the Swaggering Swine. Had he been finally turned into an abomination? The tiefling and her fellow servants of Nerull had spent days defiling his flesh and attempting to turn him into their undead servant. He resisted. He cared not for himself, nor for even those whom he might hurt in that horrible form. But, he would not be turned into an abomination, a walking affront to his god, his belief and his life. Did I win?

A thundering voice filled his head. “Win, paladin? What is your definition of victory?” Valestis looked all around him. There was nothing. Only darkness. “Be comforted, my servant.” My servant? Could it be? The voice answered before he could ask his question in full. “Yes, faithful one. It is I. You have come to me again, young Valestis. You are dead, yet are not angered, nor are you sad. Why is that, paladin?” Valestis opened his mouth to speak, but he had no voice. He wasn’t positive he still had a mouth. You, my lord. Even in death, I serve you. “Yes, even in death do you serve me. Are you so anxious to serve me that you welcome death, Valestis?” Valestis wanted to respond, but a hush filled his mind. “You will answer that question later”.

In an instant, the nothingness was replaced with light and activity. There was a buzzing of souls and minds about him. He heard them welcome him, addressing him by his name. He felt peace, tranquility. The voice entered his head again. “You, my faithful paladin, conquered the evil machinations of Nerull’s servants. They would have you walk the land as undead, an unholy abomination. However, it was not your zest for life, nor your love for me that prevented the transformation. You wanted to die, Valestis.” The paladin opened his mouth, now that he was certain it was there again, but another hush in his mind stopped his rebuttal. “Do not argue with me, servant. I know you better than you know yourself. I see your innermost essence. It is troubled. Here, in my realm, you will find peace to quell your troubles. Come, Valestis, they wish to speak to you”. The paladin did speak this time. “Who?” But there was no answer.

He felt himself drop, but from where and to where he did not know. He was standing. He overlooked the world. He saw flashes of people he knew on its surface. His senses overloaded and he turned away. She stood behind him, a beautiful young woman, surrounding by shimmering lights. “Valestis” the woman said, smiling widely. “It is good to see you again, my husband”. Valestis’ heart leapt from his chest. His being exploded with joy. “Kaylessa” he whispered. “Long have I wanted this day to come, love” she said, “but not as much as you.” Valestis was puzzled. Does she not love me as I love her, he thought. “Come, husband. Let me show you something. She stepped to his side and using a motion of her arm, she parted clouds and confusion in the world before them. He saw his friends from Rimule, standing at the campsite where he had been taken from them. They were performing some sort of ceremony. “The ranger and rogue were here earlier, Valestis,” his wife said. “They said goodbye. In their own way of course” He looked at Kaylessa, then again at his friends. She returned his glance and said “Yes, they grieved. And yes, she feels better. She will still feel guilt for some time, but it will dissipate.” She gestured to the girl approaching the makeshift grave. “Listen” she told him.

The girl laid a sword wrapped in a nightgown upon the mound and spoke. Her words were eloquent, emotional, and loving. Valestis’ heart shattered. Tia! I have left her alone. How could I forget her! Kaylessa took his hand and began wiping off tears from his face that he did not even realize he had started to cry. “She is not alone. Look at all those who support her, Valestis. She has a family now. A family you gave her. In the short time you knew her, you vastly improved her life. Just as you did mine”. The emotions overtook him now. He collapsed in her arms. “You gave her hope. You gave them hope. Now you must save some for yourself or you will truly die.” His eyes met hers for an instant, then returned to watch his impromptu funeral. “All you want to do is hold her and comfort her. You want her to stop hurting. You want her to forget about you and move on with her life. You want her to live her life to the fullest and not grieve. But she cannot. Not yet. And you cannot help her. Not yet.” His eyes widened. He straightened himself and looked down at his first love. “Yes,” she said. “Now you understand. All I wanted was for you to go on without me burdening your heart.” She turned from him, continuing “and how much it hurt to watch you die a little every day. You finally decided to love again, but you wouldn’t give in to it, only playing with it. And now you are gone. We are loving creatures, Valestis. It is in our nature. Those who turn from it only fill themselves with hate. If there cannot be love, there will be hate. Even I love again, Valestis.” Now the woman was in tears as well. Valestis put a hand on her shoulder, turned her around, and pulled her into his embrace. “Kay” he said softly. “I did not know. I couldn’t know.” She smiled up at him and said “I know, Valestis, I know”.

“Will she suffer as I suffered?” he asked. “Yes,” replied Kaylessa “unless you prevent it.” The paladin wondered for a moment. “How do…” his question was cut short by Kaylessa. “I do not know, Valestis.” She pushed him away gently, ending their embrace. “Besides, I want you to meet a few people here before Kelemvor needs you.” She waved one arm and a young man came quickly to her side. He was a striking, handsome young man whose face looked vaguely familiar to Valestis, and he had white eyes. “Are you her new love?” questioned the paladin. The young man merely chuckled. “No, Valestis Medeva, I am not. Though the two of us do share a powerful love of our own.” Valestis stared at the boy for a moment, trying to catch the meaning of his words. “Do you not recognize me? I was sent to this realm early, but here I am a man. And I wear my father’s name proudly, though I do not remember him.” The paladin suddenly, immediately realized who the boy was. “Cyrin!” he shouted gathering the lad into himself joyously. His son had indeed become a man in this life.

Valestis wasn’t sure how much time had passed since his death. He had been too busy finding friends and relatives to speak to, even the wily armorer, Unrun. He had even met his wife’s new love and blessed them both to happiness for as long as they loved one another. He felt light. His guilt had been stripped from him. His lord allowed him to grow lilies at his burial mound. Surely, he thought, that would prove to Tia that he was alright and that she should go on with her life. He did not want her to suffer as he had when he lost his parents, his wife, and his son. He watched the mound, hoping that someone would return to see the flowers he planted for her. He would not leave his vigil until he was certain that Tia had seen them and that she left comforted.

Then it happened. Sivora, Dycannus, and Tia came to the mound so that the girl could continue healing her emotional wound. She saw the flowers. She loved them. Her laughter filled his heart and put him at ease. The three people conversed and then Tia sat on the mound, her mood saddened. She told him of things that they would not be able to do together. His heart broke. He did want to hold her, comfort her, and tell her that everything would be alright. He could not bear to see her suffer. As a servant of Kelemvor, however, he could appease the living even after his departure from their world. He watched as his cleric friend comforted the former captain of the Rimule guards. It appeared to be more than a simple hug of support. When did this happen? I’ve been too wrapped up in Tia’s suffering that I’ve missed other, obvious things. He decided he would make them all smile, at least for a few moments. As his second love walked away from the flowers he made for her, he stopped the rain that had slowed their travel and dampened their mood as well as their bodies. They all looked up to see the sun. His happiness at making them forget their troubles overrode him and he formed a rainbow for them to see and wonder at. He heard Tia’s next words and they echoed through his mind “Your welcome, my love”. His heart broke again, but this time he was happier. He had given her some peace at least. And himself as well.

Valestis spent many moons receiving orders from his lord, ushering new arrivals into the fold of their new life. He battled minor evils in the planes as well, assisting the more powerful servants of his lord. He missed his friends and family in the world, but had found old friends and relatives to pass the time with. He had also met some interesting souls who shared with him information that he wished he had known while he was alive. One of his friends, it seems, was more than he knew. As much as he wanted to, Valestis avoided looking into the world he had known, preferring to let his loved ones tell him their stories upon their arrival when that day came.

He meditated, preparing for his lord to speak to him again. He had spent a great deal of time trying to forget about his life on the earth and meditation was the best way to do that. His first love had taken a new lover in this life. His son was now in the service of his lord also, though their dealings were all too few and far between. His siblings continued to battle evil in the name of their gods. His friends had gone on with their lives, pursuing their own courses. He suspected that by now young Tia had found someone else as well. He wondered if he would ever find another. Then, he had a thought that had become foreign to him. He was angry. He saw the tiefling, She-Who-Is-Not-Named, or simply “She” to those who knew of her. She took me from them, cost me love and friendship. Ripped me from the world before I was ready. Tortured my body, mind, and soul. Attempted to turn me into an abomination. He broke his meditation. The voice thundered in his head.

“Now, my servant, you are ready. I have waited all this time. You serve me well, but I have need of you elsewhere. You must return to the world. My work for you is far from complete. I though of sending you myself, but these things have a way of working themselves out. Look.”

The world he had known appeared before him. Valestis could see his friends, his family. He saw the rag tag group from Rimule, now splintered and searching for purpose and cause…and answers. He saw his brother and sister, traveling toward the place of his doom, attempting to rescue him. So, they now have word. The booming voice once again entered his head. “They seek you out, Valestis. They are too late. They will arrive in time to find their way to Pelor and Heironeous, though”. Valestis swallowed hard. “No, my lord. It is not yet their time”. The voice seemed amused. “Is it not? Do you decide the fates of those who wander the earth, young Valestis? I think not”. The paladin looked up and around, still seeing no semblance of his god. “I am here, paladin” the voice continued “though you do not see me”. The paladin had not yet actually seen his god in all the time he had spent in his realm. Valestis strained his eyes harder anyway, then beseeched his lord “Please, my lord, please! Am I not worthy of your presence?” The voice returned, soft and caring, like a father to a son “Aye, paladin, your heart and your soul are worthy. Far more worthy than most. But your mind and body, servant, are not”.

The confused paladin viewed his siblings again. They were riding toward the dungeon that held his corpse. He was sure that even they were not powerful enough to deal with the fiends located there alone. He turned back towards where he imagined the voice to be coming from and said “Forgive me lord, I do not understand”. The voice answered him immediately, with caring and respect in its tone. “You are not supposed to, servant. Nor are you capable of it yet. Some day, you will be ready, but as for now, you must return”. Valestis’ face contorted in horror. “Why? Why am I not worthy to stay, my lord!?” The voice of Kelemvor hushed his fears and soothed his anger as it spoke. “My loyal servant, you are indeed worthy. But I am not yet ready for your full time service here.”

Valestis looked once again to his siblings, riding hard and then to his friends in Avalon, going about their business without him. “Yes, Valestis, you will be returned to them. Do not ask why, for I will not answer. I have need of you and so do they. That is all you need to know for now. When the time comes for you to stand beside me here you will understand. However, I expect that you’ve learned something during your stay, haven’t you, paladin?” Valestis stared at his siblings and nodded. “May I say goodbye to them, my lord?” he asked humbly. “Certainly, my servant, but be brief. You have already been here for many, many moons”.

The voice and its presence left his mind and he saw her again. Kaylessa. “Kay” he started before she stopped him with a raised hand. “Do not speak, love” she said. “I knew that you were not meant to stay when you arrived. You have other duties to the world. I will be fine. Cyrin will look after me.” She smiled. “He reminds me of you so much already. He will be a great ally of goodness in this realm, Valestis. Perhaps one day, he will fight alongside his brother or sister?” Valestis looked up at the image of his wife. She smiled. “Yes, Val. You must continue to live. Just as your friends had to move on without you, you must move on without us. Your memories of us serve you, but your guilt hampers you. Now you know better than anyone else how little power you truly have when determining who lives or dies. I am sorry that you had to learn this lesson in this way”. With her last words, the image faded and was replaced by that if his son, Cyrin. “Father” the young man said. “Farewell for now. We will meet again. I will assure that your name carries honor in this realm”. Valestis’ parents then appeared. Only his father spoke. “Son, go now. Lorelai and Ajantis need you. See that they do not end up here before their time”.

Valestis nodded, determination and courage pushing away the pain and guilt. He viewed his friends one more time. They can wait, he thought. He glanced again toward his siblings. I come to you now. Perhaps together we can defeat these fiends…these murderers. Valestis began deciding on a plan of action to get him and his siblings out of the dungeon alive. He took a deep breath and prepared for his return to the world. Kelemvor’s voice returned unexpectedly “And now, my servant, I give you a gift to take with you”. Valestis felt his body jolt with energy. He gasped for air. His head became dizzy and his sight faded into blackness. He felt a surge of energy flow through him. His sight returned, his breath came back, his body relaxed. His god had empowered him somehow, though he was not sure exactly how. Then, the dizziness returned, his strength left him, his body faded…

______

[The world of Toril, almost one year after Valestis’ disappearance from the island continent of Avalon…]

Valestis felt and heard a faint thumping. He ached with muscle pains and open wounds. His throat was dry, his body was weak. The thumping grew louder. It was his heart! He was alive! He opened his eyes, struggling to see, even in the torchlight. He saw the shapes of two figures. They were chanting, but he could not tell what, since his heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the sounds. Slowly, his vision returned as the figures healed him while he lay on the cold, damp stone floor. The scent of death assaulted his nostrils. This, he thought, this is where I died. He saw the figures vividly now. One was a handsome man with white eyes, short blonde hair and a goatee. The other was a beautiful blonde woman whose face seemed to be that of an angel. She also had white eyes.

The woman spoke. “Valestis?” It was all he could do to nod in response. “You’re back!” she exclaimed. Tears began running down the woman’s angelic face. “I thought we’d lost you for good. You didn’t respond to being raised. We had to try twice apiece”. She looked at the man next to her. His smile was not as wide as hers, nor were there tears on his face, but his relief at seeing the young man alive again was apparent. “It’s good to see you again, brother” he said in a firm, smooth bass. “I trust you’re feeling better?” Valestis nodded again, this time with less effort.

The woman handed the paladin a flask. “Drink” she said. Valestis downed the flask in a few gulps and finally found his voice. “Hurry” he said. “We must leave. There are too many”. His older brother merely chuckled. “No, brother, there are none. We destroyed what few undead were left when we arrived. She and the others have been gone for months now, it seems”. Valestis realized that his siblings had not been in danger after all, but that his desire to help them had been required in order to allow him to be raised. His sister pointed to a spot on his chest and asked “What’s that?” He looked down at himself. He was only covered by a cloth over his mid-section. Put there, no doubt, by his siblings. The evil arcane markings on his flesh were gone. He had a new mark on his left pectoral muscle. It wasn’t very large, only a few inches in diameter. It was his holy symbol. The mark of Kelemvor was emblazoned on his flesh. “A gift” replied the paladin as he smiled for the first time in this life.

The three did not speak while Valestis dressed in his brother’s extra traveling clothes. They did not speak as they sanctified the dungeon and buried what remains they could find. They did not speak as they rode away on horseback, heading for Neverwinter. They did not speak, but the silence itself spoke volumes.

Six months. Could it really have taken this long? Valestis, his brother Ajantis, and his sister Lorelai were riding hard. They have been hunting down the tiefling, She-Who- Is-Not-Named for six months. First, they had traveled to their home in Neverwinter, gathering provisions and armament for the youngest sibling. He told his brother and sister of his time in Avalon and of his new friends…and enemies. He stopped by the temple his inheritance had renovated. It was striking. Its marble had been refinished and its countenance lightened. All resemblances to the former temple of Nerull were completely gone. It was truly a temple worthy of Kelemvor.

He made a point to speak with his former mentor, whom he knew would be sent to Kelemvor soon. The old priest was happy to see him. “I did not expect to see you again, young Valestis. What has brought you to your former home?” Valestis did not tell him of his time in the next world in service of their lord, only showed him the mark on his chest. “You…you bear his mark!” The cleric was as excited as he could get in his old age. “You have seen him…” the old man’s voice trailed off. Valestis responded with honesty. “No, I have not. But he was there. I felt him, but never saw him. He said I wasn’t ready yet.”

The old priest looked somewhat disappointed, then smiled up at the young man. “Still, paladin, our lord has given you a gift. With this mark, you cannot be turned into an abomination against him. Certainly, you did something to warrant such a gift”. A withered hand raised in the air silenced Valestis’ explanation. “No need to tell me, son. It is a mater between him and you.” The old man chuckled lightly “Sometimes I think he’s forgotten about me, Valestis. I have walked this plane for more years than I expected to.” Valestis put a hand on the elderly cleric’s shoulder. The paladin knew that he would depart for the next life soon.

The old priest raised his head; his eyes alive with a sudden idea. “You have returned for a reason, paladin. Follow me”. Valestis followed the man to his chambers. On his desk was a sword. It had a lovely bluish hue to it. The cleric spoke “We found this while sanctifying other parts of the temple we discovered while renovating. Perhaps it was meant for you.” He gestured to the sword, “Go ahead. Take it”.

Valestis grasped the handle. It did hum with a certain energy. The priest seemed to have grown younger when Valestis grabbed the sword. “It is magical and deals more damage to any evil being. Certainly, Kelemvor brought you back here at this time to receive this weapon. It was only unearthed last week. I was searching for who the weapon should belong to. And you, the first paladin of this temple, are its perfect owner.” Valestis thanked the old priest and asked to see his assistant. The paladin told the middle- aged cleric to prepare for the elder man’s passage to Kelemvor and left his temple.

He had been armed by Kelemvor and his siblings saw that he was armored by them. He wore new magical armor. His shield was enchanted and well as his full plate. It was white, with blue and red trim at the armor’s joints. It was fashioned in the style of the Medeva family. His family had worn armor of this make for centuries. His brother wore silver trimmed in red and blue and his sister wore gold. They were truly a sight to see, three well armed and matching aasimars riding hard through the countryside.

Thus far, their search for “She” had taken them far from Neverwinter. They journeyed over hills, through villages and hamlets, and into marshes, cemeteries and caves looking for the tiefling. Perhaps they would have already found her if they had not stopped at every location to help those in need. But now, six months after leaving Neverwinter, She was within reach.

Valestis rode his siblings hard. They had trouble keeping up with him. Their well bred horses simply couldn’t compete with his mount. He named it Aerie, after his father’s long time pet hawk. The horse was beautiful. It had a distinct, silvery hue to its coat and its mane was as white as the purest snow. It did share one trait with its rider and his siblings. Its eyes were white, glowing slightly. It was not just a horse, but a celestial horse. And not just a celestial horse, but the newly chosen mount of a paladin bent on revenge.

They were only a mile from their next destination. They knew that She had been seen in the area only days before and all accounts pointed to an old gravesite where their had been strange goings-on as of late. The three aasimars slowed down to allow each of them to gather themselves and prepare for whatever lay ahead in the tomb. As they approached the outskirts of the barrow mound, the paladin’s senses kicked in. Evil lurked inside that place, and powerful evil at that. Instinctively, he knew it. She was in there and he owed her a debt that he could only repay with the edge of his sword.

None of them spoke as Ajantis Medeva, the Swordarm, busted the tomb doors open and Lorelai Medeva, the Morninglord, unleashed Pelor’s light into every crevice of the underground complex. No one spoke as the undead came at them in waves. No one spoke as the evil denizens fell about them one after another. No one spoke as She and her henchmen finally faced them in the deepest room of the tomb. No one spoke until after Valestis Medeva, Knight of the Eternal Order, removed the tielfing’s head from its shoulders with a smite attack. And even then it was only two sentences that the paladin spoke. “Burn the corpses, sister. Our work here is done”.

As the three siblings took to there steeds again, Valestis looked to the west. Yes, his work here was done. Across, the ocean, however, he had more business to attend to. There were others he owed debts to. Particularly, a murderer and a betrayer. One down, thought the paladin, and I’ll need help getting to the others as well…

1992.06.16 A Quest Renewed

Valestis awoke and could feel the darkness around him. He did not open his eyes, or the darkness would fade behind the glow of his eyes. He let the magic of the bewitching hour surround him and fill his mind with images. He saw a beautiful woman bitten on the breast by a vampire. He saw the fearsome assassin he knew only as JS killing Captain Makil of the Rimule Talon Guard. He saw Yuson murdering his father so he could lie with his stepmother. He saw Malagant pouring the poison into the chalice that would kill his elderly father. He'd not witnessed any of these events in person, but since his rebirth he was seeing more. He found he could reach out to the dead and see their passing, but he could not commune with them. It was a footstep on a path to a greater power. With Kelemvor's help, he was unlocking more of the power running through his celestial blood. Eyes closed tight, he reached out farther to try and touch the future, but again, his inner vision went black. The clock struck one, and he opened his eyes.

The next morning he awoke late to avoid joining his sister at the breakfast table. Since the killing of She, he'd felt strange around her. She supported him and told him that he should do what he must, but he had the feeling that she wanted him to show more empathy to the woman. Valestis had been so enraged by the time he found her that it took only one stroke to smite her head from her shoulders. He didn't give her a chance to speak he black spells or draw a weapon. He struck her down like an animal, but deep in his soul he knew that she was as human as he, with a darker and twisted past. She had probably suffered ridicule where he'd enjoyed worship. She was called "devil" when he was called "angel". It didn't matter to him at the time, but now it affected him more and more. She had been hired to destroy him and turn him, but his anger at that act blinded him to the greater evil. Whoever wanted him dead was still out there, and he had no leads to find out who it was.

He left House Medeva to go to the temple. His friend and mentor Haddus, the priest of Kelemvor's temple, had died just days ago. A new priestess had arrived a month before the old man passed to care for him and was anointed the new head of the temple. She was young and soft with auburn hair and an easy smile. She was not as beautiful as some, but she exuded an inner peace that left the people she touched with a lasting love for her. When Valestis rode up on his mount, Aerie, an alter boy rushed to his side to take the reigns and care for the animal. He tossed the boy a coin of silver, but knew the lad would put it back into the collection plate. He was a good boy, and when his strength grew, he would serve Kelemvor well.

"How are you, my paladin?" Marai (pronounced Mary) asked. She was speaking with some local merchants, but stopped them to greet him with a formal bow. She had heard many stories about Valestis from Haddus and knew well the Medeva family history and legend.

"I am fine, my lady. And how is my lord's most faithful priestess?" Valestis returned, kneeling to kiss her hand. Although neither had served in a high court, they enjoyed the formality of their greetings in front of the townsfolk. It gave the temple of Kelemvor a more graceful and majestic appearance and helped them to attract some of the more wealthy men and women of the area.

Valestis kneeled at the altar for more than an hour, concentrating on the voice of his lord and the vocal components that gave him power over the elements. When he rose, Marai was sitting quietly behind him. As she always did, she waited for him to speak first.

"What does Kelemvor ask of us today?" Valestis asked.

"He wonders how you've slept." Marai replied, seeming to know the answer.

"I would sleep more deeply if he did not choose this time to speak to me in fractured puzzles. I spend half the night trying to decipher meaning until exhaustion finally takes me." Valestis told her. He'd spoken to her briefly about his visions and new powers, but she'd not seemed to take him seriously.

"Your eyes glow brightly, but I know that they are weary," Marai said. She reached for his hand. "Since you've returned you've raised a stable and built a dozen new pews as well as the altar at your back. What is it that tortures you so that you push yourself to exhaustion in order to sleep? Tell me where you've been, and what you see."

Valestis shared much of the six month journey to find the Tiefling. He spoke of the times when he saved his siblings from danger and his refusal to turn back in the face of a formidable storm that nearly claimed all their lives. Finally he told her of the cave fortress guarded by a hundred skeletons and nearly tenfold of other undead abominations. The battle raged for five days with little rest and waves of attackers. When the tide turned, Valestis rode through the remaining monsters to lop off the head of the she-devil that had destroyed him and was supposed to end his pain.

"But it didn't end," he said. "I brought back with me all of the pain, and even more doubt. Now Lorelai does not look at me and Ajantis has left and did not say when he will return. I embarked on the journey to become whole, but I am still fractured like my dreams."

"Dealing death can never give life," Marai replied. "This is one of the first rules Kelemvor teaches."

"I would fear that I've driven another wedge between myself and my lord, but he speaks to me now more than ever. I have power that I've never heard described." Valestis's voice was artificially high. "Why am I tortured so?"

"To serve anyone, your mind and soul must be clear, like a stream." Marai's voice was so soft that her words seemed to be absorbed rather than heard. "You had to unblock your mind and soul before you could continue with your quest."

"What quest?" Valestis replied. He was coming back down from the frightful heights of his own mind.

"You left here once, to the dismay of your siblings and your teacher," she said. "You left here with a vision in your head. While you were on the right path, you didn't have visions because you were not off course. Kelemvor only needs to right your ship if it is in danger of sinking. As much as you can do here, you are not in the right place. You are not doing the right thing."

"How…"

"I am not chosen for this post for my stunning beauty," she coyly replied. "I do have some connection with our lord."

"Do you hear him? Does he show you things?" Valestis asked.

"Of course he does, but he is not showing you what you've described," she explained. "You spent time with the dead, so you are left with an impression of that world. It is fractured and confused because you have a connection to those who have passed, but since you live the connection is faint, like a shout heard from many yards away. You are not being shown, you are looking. What do the souls have in common?"

"The all lived in Rimule."

"And why did you leave here before?"

"I saw the destruction of Rimule."

"And what do you see now?"

Valestis knew what he had to do. He had to close his eyes and open himself to Kelemvor. He couldn't let his own focus interfere with the vision. He cleared his thoughts. He saw through a cloud many people. He saw thousands of people. The answer did not need to be spoken. He opened his eyes and looked into Marai's. They were hazel green and not extraordinary in any way, but they melted through his fog and gave him a mirror to his heart. He didn't go to Avalon to rescue Tia. He didn't go to Avalon to befriend Tarin or Duncan. He didn't even go there to keep his friends safe after they were banished; he was sent to save the city. Valestis had a quest and he'd been distracted from it. His love for Tia and his friends had taken him away from his purpose, and the most unlikely creature had made it so he could be placed back on his path. She had taken him away from his distractions and sent him to the foot of his lord to be reborn and invigorated. Then in taking her life, he'd been freed from his narrow-minded revenge and once again shown his path. Although he'd once hated her for destroying his life, he now had to love her for giving it back.

"She was an instrument of your lord, but not his servant. Even our enemies can deserve our love."

Valestis whirled to see Lorelai standing at the doorway.

"You belong to Avalon now, Valestis, and what pains me are not your actions, but your imminent departure. I've grown accustomed to your presence again, and now I have to be without you." Her eyes began to fill. "I've had your things assembled; I assume you will want to leave straight away."

Valestis's sister crossed the temple floor and took her brother in her arms.

"Ajantis couldn't stay and see you leave again," she explained. "It nearly killed him not to follow you the first time. Just remember, that when you need us, we will be there without hesitation. Your destiny lies elsewhere, but we are still your family. Never forget that."

With a soft kiss on the cheek and a quick smile at the priestess, Lorelai was gone as fast as she appeared. Valestis felt a warm hand in his. Marai stood at his side, looking up at him.

"Perhaps you can stay for an hour longer?" she implored. "I have a dream of my own I'd like to share with you."

As he looked down at her, he noticed a light bead of sweat at her hairline and moisture on her palm. Her breath was ragged with anticipation. He knew what she wanted, and he felt so connected to her that he could not deny her wants. He did have love for her and was now indebted to her for relighting his path and removing the fog from his vision.

"I believe your chambers are this way," he said, leading her towards the back of the temple. Her steps followed his in synch. When they crossed through the doorway, Valestis pushed it shut and locked the latch. When he turned, he took her in as a woman, and not a priestess. She removed her robes and stood before him naked. Her hair, curly and fierce as a red dawn, draped down her shoulders and over the tops of her freckled breasts. Her eyes were lit up with passion and full of life. Her body was innocent and alabaster white, un-kissed by the light of the sun or the lips of a man. She backed herself onto the bed and laid back onto her pillow. Her hair framed her face like Pelor's aura. Valestis removed his armor slowly, allowing the woman to etch the moment in her mind. He lowered himself on top of her and enclosed his arms around her chilled and trembling skin. Their mouths met in a loving kiss, and their bodies followed. Their embrace lasted only a few moments, but left both feeling tired and fulfilled. Connected, he rolled over to let her lie on top of him.

"I am may only lie with one, Valestis." She whispered into his ear. "You were my quest, and now it is complete."

Valestis looked at her and kept his arms around her to transfer his heat to her exposed body. She was touched by Kelemvor and he was meant to be touched by her. His lord guided him in the most mysterious ways, but this one was by far the most pleasurable. This woman would have made a good wife, a strong mother, and a dedicated partner, but she knew she'd now given that all up for someone that she'd likely never see again. She helped him find his path, and in doing so doomed herself to a life of solitude. Her days would be spent preparing souls for departure, including her own.

"I will not fail our lord, I will not waiver from my quest," he promised. "I cannot promise that I'll return. This moment may be all that we have."

"I do not expect words from you, or promises that we know cannot be kept. I know I cannot be your wife and that you will most likely find love and marry another, but for a moment, I was a part of you and that alone gives my life meaning. Now your eyes will light my dreams, and in them I will forever be yours and part of you will always live here."

She did not cry, she spoke with hope and love. Only a woman with a bottomless heart could love so deeply and truly. Valestis's hands began to rub her body and found her bottom. He held her in place and rolled back to their starting position. His vigor was renewed, and once again he began to move inside her and enjoy the warmth of her body.

"You do not have to, my paladin. I am satisfied." She said between shortened breaths.

"This time is for my memory, Marai. This part of you, I will take with me."

A Familiar Face

(after Ilunibi is cleared and Gares killed; group returns to Belfort to report and for new orders)

Prince takes report and then says that word arrived only an hour ago that an undead army travels toward Pirgos from the east and that it will likely be under siege in a day.

“The king has dispatched a unit to bolster the garrison in Pirgos and he’s sending one of his new knights to my service, should he survive the Pirgos defense. He wants me to send a small force to aid them as well. We cannot lose Pirgos to these undead. Mathius, I want you to form a team of whichever heroes will go with you and take a dozen of your men. This is all we can spare at the moment. We have already reinforced Sarna and we are too thin as it is.”

When they arrive at Pirgos, the battle has just ended. Men are sifting through the dead who are surprisingly few, and bringing them to a different section of the camp outside the city. There are fires that are burning the undead. The stench is nearly unbearable.

They are hailed and met by a young soldier. “Hail! Are you the group from Belfort? As you can see, Pirgos is safe. The undead force got here sooner than expected. Too bad, cuz we’ve heard good things about the Belfort contingent. Some of us were looking forward to seeing you in action.”

(anyone: “You hear that, we’re a contingent”.)

He will offer to take you to the Captain if not asked to. Upon taking the group to the Captain, he will take his leave.

“I’m the captain.” Says a grizzled veteran who’s seen his share of combat, unlike the fresh-faced soldier who you just met.

“Your adulations are well received, but I am not the reason that we were so victorious this day. The king’s knight took to the offensive against them. He just reared his horse, shouted ‘Death to the undead!’ and rode for their front line. We just ran into battle after him. It all happened so fast… I’ve never seen anything like it. He even slew the leader by himself. Well, he and that horse of his.”

If asked, he tells you where he is, if not, he says. “I suppose you’re here to take him to Belfort to report to the Prince. Damn shame too. We’ll be fine without him, but I’d sure feel better if he were staying here. Last I saw, he was tending to the wounded and reading the dying their last rites. I have to warn ya, though he’s a” he is interrupted by an aide. “Ah, just go see for yourself.”

Walking out of the “command center” the PCs see a beautiful war horse with a silver hue to its coat and an oddly white mane and eyes. Its armor and saddle and bridle are on the ground nearby. Also on the ground nearby are a strange helmet, a large steel shield, and a hand-and-a-half sword. The horse notices the group and its large, white eyes watch them as they move to the tent. Must be the knight’s horse.

As you draw closer, you can hear the moans of the wounded and dying. You can hear the healers trying to heal and calm the men. A soldier approaches you. “Are you here for the captain?” Conversation about the ‘captain’. It’s an unofficial rank. The guard does not let them enter the tent. It is far too crowded with healers and soldiers. The ‘captain’ is only a few feet from where the group is just outside the tent.

The man is still in his full-plate armor kneeling beside a wounded soldier. He appears to be about Duncan’s height, and his armor would most likely look very nice if it wasn’t covered in layers of god knows what. His back is to the gang, but they can see the face of the soldier he is with. The man’s hair is white, not the gray or silver that comes from age, but white, almost as if the color had been bleed from it. You hear the soldier say “I did not think there was any hope before you came”.

The man pats the soldier’s shoulder. “There is always hope, friend. Always.” The voice is strangely familiar. It is soft and tired, but firm and soothing at the same time.

“Captain.” the guard says and totally disrupts the mood.

The man does not yet turn around, but as he slowly rises, he responds. “I told you, sergeant. I’m not a captain. I have no rank.” His movement betrays his mortality. It is obvious that he is tired, possibly even injured.

The guard is confused, though it’s likely that he’s had this conversation before. “Very well, sir. This group is here from Belfort, Sir Valestis. They will escort you there to report to Prince Artorius.”

“Very good, sergeant. Belfort? Will I finally make it to Belfort?” Really speaking to himself, but loud enough for others nearby to hear: “I started a journey there long ago and never made it.” He shakes his head and turns around.

Before you is a familiar face. His hair is white, disheveled, matted and in of a trim. He has a few weeks growth on his face and definitely could use a shave. His beard is a normal shade of light brown. His white eyes now stare directly at you and the man smiles widely. Even with time and the current lack of grooming, there is no doubt who it is.

“By the gods!” He exclaims as he makes his way toward you. “What fortune this is!”

They ride and may talk about whatever on the trip.

Valestis can tell them that he did die, was sent back, and killed She. He can discuss any portion of his adventures in detail. He may talk of the visions and the priestess who put him back on the right path. He will ask about Tia. He will ask about the prince. He will ask about whoever else is not present.

He will talk of recent visions: “On the boat ride over, I had more visions. I saw storm clouds growing over the island. I saw a mountain of red spilling evil into the land. I saw a strange grey figure in a golden mask. He was speaking to someone I could not see, nor could I understand his language. It was as if I was a child peeking through an open door at something I should not see. He noticed me and waved his finger at me and then was gone. I have had no visions since and I can feel these undead and it is painful in a way I cannot describe.”

As they get closer to Belfort, Aerie whinnies an awful lot. Valestis will tell everyone that something isn’t right. It’s not necessarily evil, but based on how he’s feeling, it’s likely the ash undead. They must make haste to Belfort.

There is an undead army approaching Belfort. They are far enough away that the city can be warned, if they don’t already know. Valestis will defer to Sivora (unless he knows that Mathius is in charge), then to Mathius. If Duncan and Tarin are there, he will want to stay and fight rather than going to Belfort himself.

Amateur Night

The Bronze Halberd had become quite the regional hot spot. The main draw, of course, was the famous Tamizander Kerensky, a bard of considerable skill. He was a charge of the prince regent, a part-time warrior, and a full-time lover. His looks were second only to the elven men who occasionally wandered into town to hear his poems and songs. Adventurers, other entertainers, and even middling royalty would pay visits to the outpost town of Belfort to experience his talent for themselves.

Such fame was quickly bringing him riches. The bard used his considerable political sway to convince the proprietor, Ronald Groot, to give him an equal stake in the tavern and inn in order to keep Zander from playing any other establishments in the area. Fortunately for the humble businessman, business had more than doubled in the tavern and the constant flow of visitors (and increasing danger of nighttime travel) kept the rooms at the inn full. This also filled the pockets of the rather irresponsible bard, who had no head for business. He took his earnings as they were given, not questioning the proper amounts thanks to the enormous sums he received. He knew he was being cheated of course, but he also knew the amount he was shorted was immaterial to keeping Groot fat and happy and paying.

Zander performed two shows during a week, one being a matinee and one being a night time event that often lasted until a couple of hours before dawn. The matinee show consisted of mostly poems and storytelling, things that were readily enjoyable by women and children. This was a cliental that Groot had never catered to, and they had money to spend. Instead of buying new imported clothes from Rimule, the maids would save their copper for an hour in the presence of the handsome bard. Later in the evening, after his throat had time to recover, Tamizander would put on a performance that was truly legendary. He invented an instrument that played a much wider variety of chords that he used to accompany his own superior vocal range. The notes he played seemed to be a part of the song, rising and falling with emotion just like speech. He spent time with his intellectual lover Nancy remodeling the tavern into a genuine concert hall, complete with wall coverings that would bounce back sound and carpet on the roof that would dampen it for the inn patrons. When he sang, his voice projected to the back of the hall as clear and crisp as if a patron sat in the front row, which was typically reserved for the very royal, or the very beautiful.

Just an hour after his matinee performance, one where he shared the history of a great ancient war and its chief participant who then traveled for years to return home afterwards, Zander caught up with some of his friends at the prince regent's home. Valestis and Duncan were engaged over a map in a serious discussion. Sitting by the fire was Sivora, Edea, and Tarin, pretending not to listen, but still very involved in the discussion. The entire crew was currently embroiled in an extermination campaign against a plague of undead that was threatening to consume the continent. The sun hadn't shone on its own accord for months. Scores of shuffling monsters attacked in broad daylight and even organized themselves into organized armies for more efficient conquests. All of the fear and depression worked well for Tamizander, depressed people often came to his performances as a means of escape. He took his place next to the fire by Sivora.

"There's no way I'm going to let you go within 100 miles of Rimule," Duncan insisted.

"Last time I checked, my friend, you were just as banished as I," Valestis countered calmly. "It's not that I think I'm more qualified, but if anyone is to waste valuable time in Malagant's prison, it should be me." "If I take my team, we won't see the inside of his prison," Duncan insisted.

"Why don't we send both teams?" Sivora suggested from the back. She was a master strategist, better than anyone the prince had in his employ, but she'd taken a back seat to her newly minted fiancée so she could continue to fight along side him. Her thirst for power, prestige, and admiration from her peers was quenched by her immeasurable love for him. He just snuck into her heart, at first a part-time lover, then as a friend. Eventually he grew into a confident and not long afterwards, and exclusive mate. They were to be married at the conclusion of their quest, unless the mission itself claimed their lives.

"We can't risk that, Lady Sivora," the soft spoken ranger said beside her. "If the maligned prince were to put his hands on us all, then he would literally end the world with his ignorance and pride."

"It would take an army to beat us all," scoffed Edea.

"And an army is what he has," Tarin reminded her. The realization of this point struck her hard. She hadn't given much though to that decree of banishment, since she and Tarin had frequently traveled back into Rimule to cause havoc. Together they were a small target, experienced at path finding and moving without being seen. To invade the borders magically with a contingent of eight well armed and armored individuals might indeed seem like an act of war.

"Well," said Zander, bored with all of this talk, "you are all coming to my show this evening…"

Valestis glared at him, "Not now, bard," he said firmly.

"You aren't leaving until mid-week. There is plenty of time to plan. If your spirits are not high, then how will you fight effectively?"

"That's ridiculous," said the paladin, boring into Zander with his glowing, pigment free eyes.

"Not as silly as it would seem," Duncan defended. "Zander's songs have often inspired me in the thick of a fight. His words do give the mind something to focus on besides fear and dread." Surprised by someone defending him other than Nancy, Zander broke into a big smile.

"It will be an especially good show," Zander promised. "I have decided to share the stage with some outside talent. There will also be two local women that have expressed an interest to sing. Think of it as an amateur night. I've been working with all of them and their talent is undeniable."

"Who are they?" Edea asked, intrigued.

"I can't say, for our practice has been kept a close guarded secret." Zander replied, his grin ever widening. "All I can say is it will be a can't-miss experience."

"Well, we're going to miss it," Sivora said, standing and crossing over to Duncan. She stood behind him very closely and snaked her arms around his. "We have other plans." Duncan smiled and shrugged, pulling against her grip, but not very hard. Even if he tried, he probably would have little change of breaking free of her grapple.

"Fine, but you will be there, won't you, Sir Valestis?" Zander insisted.

Valestis didn't want to take his mind off the task, but he was trying to remind himself that his life was not all about servitude. It was an attitude he'd struggled to adopt since his re-birth. His experience in the other plane had made it clear to him that to have life and not live life is an affront. He spent the end of his first life serving the god of death, helping those who would see him too soon and damning those whose date was long overdue. He passed on his chance to love again, losing his dear Tia to his liege. He was now infatuated with the elf sorceress Raina, and perhaps a night of pure relaxation would untie his tongue long enough to talk with her.

As reading his mind as it changed, Zander smiled. "I'm sure the crowd will be full of interesting patrons," he promised. Valestis didn't like people in his head, but the bard was much worldlier in the ways of the heart than the paladin would ever be. He relented.

"Fine," he agreed.

"Then I'm off to rest my instruments and get a massage," Zander announced to no one in particular.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Edea teased. Tarin quickly glared at her, making sure she wasn't imagining her hand on the bard's flesh. She was already looking at him with an evil smirk on her face.

"We'll see soon enough," Zander played along, "but the more the merrier I always say!"

"Be gone, you've distracted us enough for now," Duncan ordered and the bard obeyed.

The hours between the meeting in the prince's study and the performance flew. Sivora and Duncan did decide to attend, though they were dressed very casually and the cleric's dirty blonde hair was unusually mussed. Sivora had her hair drawn back into a wild ponytail, and a close inspection revealed she was wearing a pair of Duncan's pants. Tarin and Edea walked in and joined the other couple at their reserved table. Their circle was often referred to as the Heroes of Belfort, and as such they were awarded quite a bit of favor wherever they went. Friendly exchanges and greetings were shared all around. Edea had really come out of her shell around the other women of the crew and Tarin was slowly coming to embrace a more orderly way of life and thinking. He'd ridded himself of a lot of guilt and anger, freeing those corridors of his heart for other endeavors, one of which sat smiling by his side.

"Where's Tia? Is Arthur still away?" asked Edea. Prince Artorius, or Arthur to his friends, had left for business with his father in Silverbow several days before. Tia was his lover, a girl who the crew had known since she was the charge of Sir Valestis. He'd saved her from an abusive father and kept watch over her during their time in Rimule. They were thought to be lovers, but their affection was never consummated. Upon Valestis's departure from this plane, Tia took it the hardest, falling into a deep depression. Only after a chance meeting with the prince had she begun to be her old self. The man quickly developed a crush on the sweet girl and began courting her. When Valestis returned in service of the prince's father, he gave his blessing to the relationship, although it was personally heartbreaking.

Valestis strode in close to the start time. He found the table quickly, even though he'd managed to avoid the large crowds that gathered here. Tia was a frequent patron, and seeing her still invited a strong sting in his chest. Of course, by avoiding Tia he often avoided Raina, who was about the same age as the younger girl if you balanced out their racial differences. As a half- elf, Raina wasn't much more than a couple of years past her sexual awakening, and was still drunk with the power she found she wielded over men. There weren't many people who impressed the paladin, but she was one of them. She had a physical beauty that could blind a dozen artists, a sweet innocence that evoked the protective part of a man's personality, and possessed a magical power that when harnessed could lay entire armies to waste with a single word. "Get over here, Val, you're late!" Sivora said from behind a mug. Duncan was sitting close to her, his initial fears of his change in class subsiding. Valestis had walked the path of a paladin for many years before meeting his current friends, but Duncan had heard the call literally before their eyes. At first he was unsure if it meant his lifestyle was to be a chaste sacrifice for the greater good, but a deeper introspection revealed that he'd always been walking a righteous path, his transformation to paladin status was merely recognition of it.

"Ale Valestis?" Raven offered. He smiled, at her as she thrust the side of her hip into his, knocking him slightly off balance. "Go sit down, boy, I'll bring you your fruit juices in a moment." He patted her on the butt as she walked away, earning a surprised blush, then a pronounced swish to her walk as she left. Raven was nearly as much a sister to him as Lorelai. Her mood was much better in recent days, and he was grateful for it. When they met, he would never have been so bold as to touch her, but now, well he was no longer an amateur at flirtation.

"You know what tastes good mixed in those fruit drinks?" said a silky voice behind his left shoulder. Raina was standing next to him in a blue robe with her golden blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. He met her rich, brown eyes. "Pure grain alcohol," she cooed.

"I usually don't like to impair my judgment," he replied haltingly. She literally took his breath away.

"This is your first time?" she asked rhetorically, "you're going to need some impairment. That first act, well let's just say she deserves the title amateur."

"Who is it?" Valestis started to ask, but she had turned on her heel and was headed for the bar. Raven and Raina hadn't always gotten along and it was getting better, but for comfort's sake she still liked to get her spirits straight from the bar. That and they always came at someone else's expense.

The crowd began to quiet in anticipation. Zander stood at the head of the stage, tuning his guitar. He'd brought in a band with several more instruments. There was a great organ in the back and a set of drums with a rather scary looking individual warming up the skins by beating them mercilessly. The organist was alternating between soft plinks like a light breeze and hard pounding like a thunderstorm. Zander strummed at his guitar, twisting the strings into just the right tension. He used a quick incantation to extinguish several open lamps around the stage. At the loss of light, the crowd quieted to silence.

"Welcome, friends, to the performance of the great Tamizander!" he shouted. Cheers erupted for several minutes as he lapped up the applause like a hungry kitten. "I have a tremendous treat for you. My old mates, the Wind, have graced me with their presence. Never in my travels have I met more talented musicians who will play for you tonight!"

At the peak of Zander's boast, the drummer let loose a short solo of pounding beats that were abusive and pleasing to the ear at the same time. The crowd marveled at the speed and skill to which he applied the sticks to the skins on the drum. The organist played a short solo immediately afterwards, a short excerpt from a longer piece called the Fur Elise. The strings joined in, giving the music a sweet and foreboding vibe. Their collective skill was apparent to all in the concert hall.

"And opening tonight's show, we have a new singer. I resign my place at the front of this band to bring you the vocal styling and original music of Miss Tiara!"

The crowd welcomed Tia to the stage with thunderous applause. At the table of heroes, mouths hung open in surprise. The most anyone had ever heard Tia sing was when she left the door of the bath open. Her demeanor was quite mousy, although with a friend she would open up and spout for hours. To see her dressed in a simple white dress with a sheer scarf around her neck in front of this rowdy crowd was a particular shock. Her dark hair shown in the firelight and her face was flush with youth and excitement. Valestis was stunned, and in awe.

"Beautiful," he whispered, not low enough for Duncan to miss it. He put a free hand on Valestis's shoulder. Arthur was like a brother to Duncan, they grew up together. To see him happy with Tia was extremely satisfying, but not at the expense of his aasimar compatriot beside him. Valestis could feel the missing piece in his heart in his chest. She used to sing for him when they were far from the ears of others, and he longed to hear it again.

"This is a song I wrote and Zander helped me put to music," she said to the crowd. She focused on the pair of shining white eyes looking up at her from the familiar table. This song was for an audience of one, but she just didn't know how else to do it. If she would have asked for time alone with him, the rumors would have flown. At least this way, there was a crowd of witnesses.

The organ started first. Soft plinking sounds filled the air. It was a light and romantic mood, but there was some sadness in it. The crowd was having their senses and emotions played with by the pianist, and it felt good. Tia drew a breath, and began.

I'm so tired of being here

Her voice started low, and was full of apathy. She seemed truly tired, playing the part of the singer.

Suppressed by all of my childish fears And if you have to leave I wish that you would just leave

She let her eyes wash over the crowd, but then settled her focus on Valestis.

Because your presence still lingers here And it won't leave me alone

Her voice raised another pitch. Her mood turned from apathy to slightly anguished.

These wounds won't seem to heal This pain is just too real There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears And I've held your hand through all of these years But you still have …

She paused more than a heartbeat. She dramatically let out her breath and nearly whispered the rest of the lyric.

…all of me

The crowd was as captivated as the woman in the song. She was haunted by the specter of a lost lover lording over the living that she can't escape. It seemed that she cared for him to his death, and now she felt like she owed him her life for surviving him. There was sadness and a growing rage at the selfishness of the ghost. Her voice lowered like at the start of the song. Now recognizing the tone as defeated, she continued.

You used to captivate me By your resonating light But now I'm bound by the life you left behind Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me

Higher she sang. Angrier. Sadder.

These wounds won't seem to heal This pain is just too real There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears And I've held your hand through all of these years But you still have… all of me

This time she didn't pause to listen to the sound of the accompanying music. Her voice was the instrument and it was weaving a picture over the crowd. Tears were being wept openly in the crowd. She left her defeat behind and struck out at the invisible lover with anger. She spoke the words melodically and firmly.

I've tried… so hard to tell… myself that you're gone And though you're still with me I've been alone all along!

Unsuspectingly, Zander and the Wind started playing. The drummer violently attacked the drums, blasting beats throughout the hall. Zander attacked his guitar strings, making them feel the pain of the widow that Tia sang of. The organ left behind its light plinking and adopted a loud moan. Tia swayed back and forth, swept up in the audio exorcism, her fists clenched tightly. She rocked her head back and forth, sweeping her brown hair into her face. The music continued as she projected as loud as a lion's roar. This was her rebuke at Valestis and he knew it. Now she had mustered up her strength and power to defeat his memory, to end his grip on her that he didn't even know he held. He watched in awe as this little girl pounded him with her talent.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears And I've held your hand through all of these years But you still have…

Her voice gave out, and the music followed. The widow in the song was sapped. She'd fought as hard as she could, tapping the power of her very soul to escape the memory of the dead. The music fought with her, but in the end she was still consumed. Again, her voice fell to a whisper. She found the paladin's eyes and softly completed the line.

…all of me

The crowd didn't know what to do. Each man wanted to gather the girl in his arms and defeat her demons. Each woman wanted to mend her broken heart. She'd played the part so well, all belief was suspended and the room was all there with her in her despair. When the spell was broken, all that could be heard was applause. Tia was a hit. The crowd was stunned at her vocal and lyrical talent. She wiped away tears and bowed. She clapped for the band and specifically Zander, the one who helped her put to music the poem that she'd written about Valestis. Finally, it was out. She was supposed to be free. He now knew to what extent his leaving destroyed her and that she never got over it. That was the most important thing she wanted him to know. She still wasn't over it. She still wasn't over him.

Valestis didn't get a chance to go to her. She exited the stage at the rear and Zander was back at the front. He was trying to quiet the crowd. Val stood, but a hand fell on his shoulder. It was Raina.

"You don't want to miss the rest of it, darlin'," she teased, and walked by him to the stage.

"If you thought that was amazing, folks," Zander continued, "wait until you hear Miss Raina Jade."

Again the piano plinked away. This time slower, but then more urgent as the chords passed. This song was building to something, and to what they could not guess. The crowd beheld the elf woman, dressed in a simple blue robe. She let her eyes fall to the floor, and stood for all of the eyes in the audience to invade her privacy. She began to sing, her voice not as perfect as Tia's, but still melodic and pleasant. Like the girl before her, she had a specific person in the audience she wanted to speak to. She brushed the hair back to show her pointed ears.

How can you see into my eyes like open doors? Leading you down into my core Where I've become so numb… Without a soul, my spirit sleeping somewhere cold Until you find it there and lead… it… back…

Her voice building like the music to a point, then she delivered it.

… home

WAKE ME UP!

The bard's voice was full of rage, as if he were trying to wake the dead soul of which she spoke. The musicians joined in with even more passion than they played during Tia's song. The music was loud and defiant.

Wake me up inside WAKE ME UP! Wake me up inside Call my name and save me from the dark WAKE ME UP! Bid my blood to run I CAN'T WAKE UP! Before I come undone WAKE ME UP! Save me from the nothing I've become

The drum beat steady, letting the crowd know they were just getting started. The teaming mass was on the edge of their seats and the tips of their toes. Raina dropped her robe to reveal a leather bra and matching leggings. The silver studs sparkled and tied to each thigh was a wicked looking short sword. She waved her hands upward and the lamps exploded into flame, bursting through their lids and burning brightly, illuminating the stage and the elf performer. Her voice was full of desire and anger of being denied what she sought. This was the sorceress that people thought was inside, and they were thrilled and terrified.

Now that I know what I'm without You can't just leave me Breathe into me and make me real Bring me to life

WAKE ME UP! Wake me up inside WAKE ME UP! Wake me up inside Call my name and save me from the dark WAKE ME UP! Bid my blood to run I CAN'T WAKE UP! Before I come undone WAKE ME UP! Save me from the nothing I've become

Her song turned into a pleading as she continued, gesturing as if a stake had been rammed through her vampire heart and she was slowly disintegrating before the crowd.

Frozen inside without your touch Without your love - darling - only you Are the life among the dead

As she crumpled to the floor, Zander stepped over her fallen form playing his guitar feverishly. He was also in full character, the embodiment of her anger and frustration. His voice held perfect pitch, but the projection boomed like a primal scream.

All of this time I can't believe I couldn't see Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me

From behind him, a rejuvenated Raina dueted with perfect timing.

I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems Got to open my eyes to everything

Without a thought without a voice without a soul Don't let me die here There must be something more! BRING ME TO LIFE!!!

WAKE ME UP! Wake me up inside WAKE ME UP! Wake me up inside Call my name and save me from the dark WAKE ME UP! Bid my blood to run I CAN'T WAKE UP! Before I come undone WAKE ME UP! Save me from the nothing I've become

I've been living a lie! There's nothing inside! Bring me to life!!!!

The crowd erupted in applause, twice as loud as for Tia's song. Valestis was taken aback at her passion, and filled with thoughts of what that channeled passion could do. She was beautiful and terrible, like a feminine god that demanded worship. To possess her would be like defeating a great army single-handedly, but the cost would be just as great. Every man and most of the women wanted her at that moment, sweating through her wild hair and clad in barely enough leather to keep the imagination alive. She owned more hearts in this room than she'd ever stop on a battlefield.

"What do you think ladies and gentlemen?" Zander yelled, egging on the applause as Raina smiled and bowed. "Amateurs!"

The music played on well into the night, but the talk of the evening was the two contrasting women. No one else knew that they had both laid down a gauntlet to the same man. Tia was still in love with him, his memory a ghost that she did not want to be rid of. Raina wanted to conquer him and quench herself on his aura. She knew that no normal mortal could ever survive the touch of immortality she'd been granted, none had even come close. If she could ever find a worthy mate, she would look to the celestial knight. It was out in the open, and a decision must be made. The saint, or the sinner? His friends would all claim to know the answer, but they couldn't. He embraced life now, not bowing to tenants of faith that bound others to an early grave. The last command he was given was to live. One would sip life from the cup until her years were used up and the cup remained half full. The other would turn it over and force him to gulp life in until he drowned in it.

"What did you think, Sir Valestis?" asked a neighboring patron as they exited the hall in the wee hours of the morning.

"What can I say?" he replied to the friendly man. "Amateur night will never be the same."

1992.xx

Careful What You Wish For

Sir Valestis walked down the hallway. He could feel the eyes behind him locked onto his movements even though the conversations centered on the evening’s meal. The prince planned to welcome his new knight and celebrate the city’s victory against the undead with an impromptu, if smaller, feast.

The hallway wasn’t very long at all, but each step seemed to take Valestis more time than it should. His body was tired and his mind raced as he walked the corridor to the prince’s chambers. Duncan had healed his wounded leg when they arrived in the city after the half-elf sorceress, Raina had burned down half of the ash undead army that Valestis and Duncan had left in their wake.

The leg had been injured in an ambush by assassins the week before and he had just not healed it properly, using his powers to help others. Since he was seldom on foot, though, it had not hindered his combat ability. He knew that in all likelihood, there was still a layer of dried blood on his leg and his armor from the wound. Before the Pirgos battle, it had begun to seep out through the plates and joints in the leg’s armor.

Ignoring the stares and short gasps of the servants, he continued to the room where Tia rested. He would accept his lord’s hospitality and attempt to clean himself up a bit. It had been some time since he had bathed. His missions had sent him from one town to another and from battle to battle with little time for rest and grooming. For someone who might get ill, it was a health hazard, but for the paladin, it was an excuse to keep riding and destroying the unholy abominations that walked the land.

He continued laboring to the door, each footfall reminding him of the fatigue setting in. Perhaps tonight, he would actually sleep well for a change. He stopped at the door. He had faced monsters of all kinds, evil in many forms, and even death itself. He faced them all without fear or hesitation, but here, in front of this door, with the thought of begin alone again with Tia for a minutes, he was nervous.

Turning the knob and opening the door slowly, he peered inside. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth. Tia was laid out on the prince’s bed, still deep in unconsciousness. It may well be an hour or so before she awoke, as the prince had said. Apparently, this was not the first time she had passed out in this mansion.

He made his way to the washroom and checked the angles, making sure Tia would have to move to catch a glimpse of anything. Satisfied with his privacy, he began removing his armor. Stiff, sore, and tired, he moved lethargically. The last time he had taken off armor this slowly was for Marai, his priestess in Neverwinter. He sighed again, but this time with apprehensive tension. He would have to tell Tia about her. Would she be hurt that he had bedded a woman he had known for less time than her, but had never offered her the same?

UGH! He caught scent of the inside of his armor and clothing. The odor was more pleasant than that of the burning of corpses he had witnessed so much of recently, but it was still easily very offensive to normal senses.

Drawing the bath water, he hoped he wouldn’t leave the washroom too dirty and have to clean it up too. He didn’t want the prince to come back to a dirty tub after his generosity. After all, he was his liege lord now, and did not have to offer his own facilities to a knight in his service. Nor did he have to offer him the chance to take Tia away from him either. But he had.

Prince Artorius’ reputation had found its way to Neverwinter before Valestis had ever left for Avalon. The deeds and heroics of him and his knights were the stories of glory from across the sea and the dreams of many a boy who fancied himself a future warrior. If this prince was even one iota like the man in those stories or like his father at all, then he was indeed a man Valestis could follow. Duncan called him a brother, and Valestis already felt he could do the same.

Valestis scrubbed himself with vigor. He wanted desperately to be clean again and also wanted to be dressed before Tia awoke. The soap bars were powerful and with effort, eroded the filth and scent from his flesh. He was pruned quite thoroughly well before he finished bathing.

He stepped out of the prince’s tub, which was thankfully large enough to easily accommodate him, and began drying himself off. He looked back at the tub. The water was draining, but muck clung to the porcelain. He would have to clean it too.

He stole a quick glance around the doorway and saw Tia still in the same position she had been in when he began his bath. For some reason, he was a little disappointed that she was not yet awake. He almost wanted her to be in the doorway watching him, waiting for him. Those were not proper thoughts for a paladin, though and he quickly busied himself with drying and dressing to get them out of his head.

Fortunately, he had a clean set of clothing in his bag and they had managed to stay clean. His sister had placed them in some kind of rough sack and they were still clean and odor free. He hoped they were nice enough to wear while sitting at the prince’s table.

Valestis decided to shave before putting his shirt on and unpacked his razor. Using the prince’s soap bars again, he began shaving the now weeks old growth from his face. He could not recall the last time he had this much facial fair. Probably never, he thought. Beards didn’t suit aasimars well until they grew older and their hair grays. His older brother sported a blond goatee, but unlike Valestis now, the hair on Ajantis’s face and head were the same color. t A little more than half his face was smooth when he looked up in the mirror and saw her reflection. She was staring at him. He had no idea how long she had been there.

“I’m sorry” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought you were Arthur. I –“ she cut herself off as she continued to stare at his back.

Valestis turned. He had assumed that he would at least hear her stirring. “Hello, Tia” he said softly. He pointed to a chair in the washroom. “Have a seat and we’ll talk while I finish cleaning up”.

She didn’t respond right away, but after half a minute or so, she nodded and sat down, keeping her gaze on him.

Valestis smiled at her and continued shaving. He remembered that his shirt was off, but a small trail of water and soap from his neck and halfway down his chest reminded him why. He would finish quickly and get fully dressed, lest someone come in and see them.

He spoke as he finished shaving. “I’m sorry, Tia” he said bluntly. “I wanted to come see you sooner”.

She just continued to stare, as if her mind was just stuck on him being alive again, and rightly so. Her poor mind couldn’t fully grasp everything just yet. It might take awhile for her shock to wear off. She wasn’t an adventurer and death wasn’t an everyday part of her life. She’d never seen anyone who had been raised or resurrected before. This was all new, and though she was happy that Valestis was alive, she was a little frightened.

Valestis rinsed the razor off one last time and wiped it dry. He then dried his face and reached for his shirt. Tia still sat there, with her eyes full of awe.

“Tia” he said, trying to snap her out of it. “Tia!” he said more emphatically.

Finally, her eyes blinked and she breathed out again. He put his shirt on and she look up at him. “Perhaps you’ll be more comfortable sitting on the bed”. He took her arm and gently lifted her from her seated position, then led her to the prince’s bed. He himself took the chair and moved it out of the washroom. Gathering the rest of his attire, he sat the chair in front of her and plopped down on it.

“I did want to come see you sooner, Tia” he continued, now putting on his socks. “But I got sidetracked by the call from the king, Prince Artorius’s father. I had to help. And after seeing the undead, I would have helped regardless of the call.” He glanced up to make sure she was not still completely dazed. Convinced she was able to listen and comprehend what he was saying, he continued.

“I’ve been sent quite a few places since I’ve been back. The king asked for volunteers to defend Pirgos and I offered my services. He then decided that I would report to his son in Belfort. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know if any of you guys were here or not, but I hoped that you were. I heard talk of a group that saved the city from gnolls, goblins, and hill giants and assumed that you all were here. But, you still might have been elsewhere.”

“I’ve been here ever since” she interrupted, having finally found her voice. “Ever since we –“ she cut herself off again.

He looked into her eyes. He could see the sadness of memories dissolving the spark in her eyes. Smiling, he reached to take her face in his hand, but she recoiled. He was shocked. She turned her head away from him and stared down at the diamond pattern on the prince’s blanket.

His heart sank. “Tia?” he begged for a response. There was pain in his voice. She shut her eyes hard, but a few tears slid down her face. “Tia? Tia, look at me” he implored. This time she responded, raising her head slowly and opening her eyes, allowing more tears to escape.

Again he reached out for her, but kept his eyes on hers. This time, she did not avoid his touch. He held her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Tiara” he said softly. “I have caused you so much pain. I can see it lingering in your eyes still.” He wiped the fresh tears from her face with his hands and then on his pants.

Taking her hand, he spoke again “I am so sorry, Tia. I did not know that I would return. I wanted you all to move on, but something brought me back to Avalon.”

Her lip quivered, but she spoke regardless. “Why? Why did you come back?”

“The reason I came to Avalon to begin with. I saw a vision of Rimule in flames and the vision returned. There is something there I must do eventually.”

“No” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Why did you come back” she hesitated, “from…”. This time her voice just drifted off. She couldn’t speak the word without reliving the pain of his death.

“Love, Tia”. He said rather matter-of-factly. Her eyes widened. “Love for my family, my friends” it was his turn to hesitate now, “and for you, Tia”. He felt lighter, he said it. He finally said it.

“You love me?” Her voice would have been inaudible except for the octave that it hit.

“Yes, Tia. I think I always have. I just was too afraid of it to admit it. But now…” his gaze drifted away without the turning of his head or the movement of his eyes. “But now I know better. I didn’t think I could really love. I didn’t want to not be able to protect you. I was being selfish. I only thought of how you would affect me. And then, the chance to tell you was gone.”

The tears flowed freely down her face. She made no attempt to halt their progress or to wipe them away.

“You love me” she whispered dreamily. “There was a time when I would have given anything to hear those words from you, Val. Anything. I waited and waited. I hoped that after we got to Belfort, things would calm down and… but…” she covered her face with her hands and sobbed without restraint.

Valestis sat next to her on the bed and gathered her into himself. Her sobs shook them both while he held her and gently rocked her. After a few minutes, the sobs subsided and she sniffled.

“If you had come sooner” she said. “It would be so different”. She looked up at him. Her face was now red and puffy around her eyes. His was merely puzzled. “Ever since I met you, all I wanted was for you to love me. All I wanted in the world was you, Val. Then, you were gone. And now…now I have-“

“The prince” he finished her sentence for her. “I know, Tia. All I wanted was for you to move on and you did. Admittedly,” he said, chuckling a bit “I’m a little disappointed now, though”. They shared a smile at the lighter moment, but the mood turned serious again.

He continued, saying “When one door of happiness closes; another opens. But we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the other open for us. I myself have been guilty of that and I did not want you to suffer so. And I have to admit that I have done some moving on as well”.

Tia’s brow scrunched. Now she was confused. “Moving on?” she thought. He just told her that he loved her. His eyes fell from her gaze. “I have been with a woman since returning to the world. Even though I love you, I took her because she wanted me and I could not deny her.” This was the burden that had kept him awake at night when the visions ceased.

“I cannot justify it, but can only apologize, Tia. I am sorry.”

She stared at him for a minute, almost two. The dizzy-headed teen stepped aside and a remarkably mature woman emerged, even if briefly. “You tell me this even though I would never otherwise know? You didn’t know you were coming back to Avalon anyway.”

He quickly stopped her train of thought, but did not meet her gaze. “No, Tia.. When I was with her, I knew I was leaving. She was my priestess and I…” He let his voice fade out.

This time she took his face in her small hands. “Sssshhh, Valestis. You don’t have to explain.” She lifted his face to meet her gaze. “I am just sorry that you have come all the way back here to tell me all of this and…and I love another.”

His heart was broken. He knew that this would likely be the case, and it is what he wanted for her, but it still hurt. She saw the pain on his face, and hers held pain of its own.

“You’re the reason I’m here, Val” she said, starting to choke up again. Fighting back another wave of tears, she managed to continue. “You’re not selfish. Everything you ever did for me, you did with my best interest at heart. Yes, I wanted to hear you say those words, but you were just trying to protect me from losing you and you from losing me. And it happened anyway.” At this, he managed a wry smile, but he lost his battle over his emotions and a few tears ran down his face.

She studied a tear trail as it made its way down his cheek. She wondered if his tears were any different than hers. She had never seen him cry before. She didn’t even know if he had been capable of it. Did his white eyes make his tears magical or blessed? She held him for a moment longer, then broke their embrace.

He smiled weakly as the tears made their descent. “And you showed me that I could love again. Should love again. And to never be afraid of it. For that I can never repay you.”

She returned his smile and retorted “But, you saved me first”. He raised himself up and smiled wider. “So we’re even then?”

She laughed and he followed suit for a moment. The break in the tension was much needed by both of them. She went to the washroom and got handkerchiefs from a drawer for the both of them. They continued to chuckle a little as they dried their eyes and faces.

Valestis moved back to the chair to put on his shoes. His belly rumbled. “How’s the food here?” he asked, happy to have an excuse to change the subject.

She was only happy to reply as well. “Oh it is sooooo good. We ate here the day he arrived after the big battle. Well, when I say we, I mean Duncan and Sivora and Raina and Zander and Tarina and Edea. Me and Raven helped served. Have you seen Raven yet? She’s at the Bronze halberd. I used to work there too, but then Arth - Prince Artorius hired me to work here and when I got here George thought I was here to-“ realizing that she was about to cover territory that Valestis did not likely wish to hear, she stopped.

“Anyway, I’m sure she would be excited to see you. She’s been grumpier than normal since we’ve been in Belfort. I try to cheer her up, but it doesn’t work for long.” She was fixing the covers on the prince’s bed as she spoke. “But I know that seeing you would! Oh! But the food is great! Watch out for the elven wine though, or you’ll wake up on the rug like Raina and I did! Have you met Raina? She is sooooooo gorgeous. Everyone thinks so. All the men stare at her, but she’s not with anyone. Don’t you think that’s odd? Raven doesn’t like her. I think she’s jealous of her. They almost got into a fight when they first met. She’s been hanging out with Edea lately too. You’ve seen Edea, right? I think she purposely tries to avoid me. I think she’s still feels guilty. You probably already know that though, huh? Maybe now that you’re back she won’t. I think she’s with Tarin though. They seem pretty close. They haven’t been back for long, though. They showed up just in time to help fight that big battle. She is so pretty and Tarin seems to be nicer since he and Arth - Prince Artorius had a long talk the day after he arrived.” She stopped and headed into the washroom to tidy it up a bit.

Speaking louder so Valestis could hear her from the around the doorway, she continued “Edea and Tarin make a cute couple, don’t you think? I do. And Zander’s been back in town for awhile now. He had to leave shortly after we got here cuz he got into some trouble, but all that’s over now. He wrote me and Raven almost everyday. That was so sweet. He even went with us to the funer…al.” She winced and cursed herself for bringing that up. She stole a glance into the other room. Valestis was completely dressed and still seated in the chair. He was facing her direction, a large smile on his face.

“It’s ok” he said. “It was a lovely ceremony, and thank you for that, but please continue”.

She smiled and did just that. ”So Zander’s been here helping research the stuff going on. Arthur” she sighed at using his informal name again. “Prince Artorius says that he’s been invaluable. Zander, invaluable! You believe that? I’ve seen him with the pretty scholar, Nancy. She’s real quiet and shy though, the complete opposite of Zander! I suppose opposites do attract after all! She follows him like a puppy though, so I don’t think it will last”.

She piled up the used towels and cleaned standing water from the sink and the countertop. “Do you know that Duncan and Sivora are together still? We all really depended on her after you uh, well… uh… afterward. She really took charge against those gnolls that attacked the town, too. She’s a lot of fun. I like her a lot. She can put it away with the best of them too! I’ve never seen a woman eat and drink like her! I wonder how she stays so thin? She must do a lot of working out or something. I guess swinging around that big sword of hers should keep her fit, though. I think a lot of men are intimidated by her. Duncan’s not, though. I think he really likes her, but he’s afraid to tell her and see how she feels. Duncan really missed you. I heard him and Ar…Prince Artorius talking about you one night. Apparently I mentioned you a few times and he got curious. He and Duncan are like brothers! Did you know that? They grew up together! Isn’t that great! Duncan’s been close to royalty since before we met him and you never would have known it! He’s even named after his godfather, the king! That’s incredible! You’ve met the king, right? Did he knight you? I think the king has to, huh? I haven’t met him yet. Arthur’s worried about what he’ll think of me, being a commoner and all, but he tells me not to worry. I hope he won’t mind. He’s a paladin too, though, isn’t he? I can’t imagine that a paladin wouldn’t like his son’s girlfriend. But he’s king too, and he has to think about his kingdom.”

Her mood dampened a bit and she came back into the room. Valestis still sat there in the chair facing her. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Tia.” He reassured her. He stood up and moved the chair he was sitting on back into its proper place. “The king knows the importance of the heart of men, and not just their bloodline. Besides” he placed a hand on her should and looked down into her eyes and winked “as the king’s knight, I’ll put in a good word for ya”.

This brightened her mood substantially and she retuned his wink before saying cheerfully “Thanks! I would appreciate that, Sir Valestis”. They smiled at each other, and as he removed his hand from her shoulder she startled him by burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could.

“A part of me will always love you, Val. Always.” He rubbed her back for a moment and replied. “And a part of me will always love you, Tia.” With that, she broke their embrace before they began to weep again.

“Did I answer your question?” she asked, not remembering what the question was.

“Yes you did Tia, and I will miss that.”

“Miss what?” she inquired.

“Nothing” he said, gathering up his belongings.

“Leave the dirty stuff. I’ll tell Arthur to have someone clean the rest of it up.” She didn’t correct herself from using the prince’s informal name this time. It was okay now.

Valestis opened the door, but Tia stepped out first. Waiting outside the door was a gaggle of servants who quickly scurried away. They proceeded down the hall leisurely. Those who did glance in their direction quickly turned away and continued preparing for dinner.

Arthur waited at his desk. He tried not to show it, but he was anxious. “Tia, Sir Valestis” he nodded at their approach. “I trust everything went well?”

“Indeed it did, my lord” Valestis responded, noticing Duncan standing at the other doorway.

“Sir Valestis, my lord”, thought Tia. “Arthur is Val’s liege lord”. The two would likely be forced to be close to one anther often enough to give and receive orders. Had she made a terrible error in hoping the two could be friends?

Arthur went to Tia and hugged her. “I’m gonna go check on dinner” she said quickly and hurried back down the hallway as the two men who loved her stood within a few feet of each other.

They both watched her as she hustled away. Duncan cleared his throat and spoke “I’ll leave you two, then.”

Valestis stopped him. “That won’t be necessary Duncan. I don’t have anything to say that you need not hear.”

The prince looked at the knight and they measured each other. Valestis was clean and shaven. Tia was right, this man was more beautiful than him, as hard as that was to believe. Here was a man that his closest friend held in almost the same light as himself, a man who had saved their love, Tia, from the horrors of life with her father, a man whom his father himself deemed worthy enough to knight, a man he could easily respect and admire and call friend, and a man whose celestial blood showed in his eyes. Those eyes took him in now, for all his worth.

“Forgive me, my lord” began the paladin. “Duncan may still leave if you would like to speak to me alone.”

“No, Duncan can hear what I have to say as well, Sir Valestis.”

Valestis chuckled, though they still fixed their eyes upon one another. “You’ve no need to use that title with me, my lord. At least until formality demands it. I doubt seriously that ‘Sir Bors’ or ‘Sir Tristan’ ran off your tongue very often, though they are more than deserving of such.”

Prince Artorius chuckled as well and Duncan relaxed, though he hadn’t realized that he had tensed up at all. The prince and the knight both turned their attention to cleric as he sighed and laughed harder. “And you’ve no need for ‘My Lord’s and ‘Majesty’s with me, Valesits, until formality demands it. That’s my father.” The three men shared a boisterous laugh and then the prince got to the meat of their business. “And Tia?” he questioned. The laughter ceased.

Valestis looked at the man again. “I just want her to be happy”.

Arthur raised his right hand and placed it on the aasimar’s shoulder. “And she is happy, Valestis”. His statement was not a boast or brag, but the simple truth. He smiled and Valestis did not turn his gaze away from the prince, nor did the prince flinch under the stare.

Valestis put his right hand on the shoulder of the prince and countered “Then we understand one another, Artorius.”

The two suitors, one former and one current, took their hands away after few manly pats. “Oh, Tia’s a little worried about her being a commoner, so I promised that I’d put in a good word with your father. After all, if she’s not gonna be with me, she might as well be queen one day!”

Niether Duncan nor Arthur could tell if he was truly jesting, but his mood was light enough not to be alarming. “Very good then, Valestis,” the prince said. “In that case, do you have any advice for me?”

“Yes.” Valestis answered quickly, and even though he smiled, there was an obvious sadness in his eyes and voice. “Be careful what you wish for”.

Then, he slapped Duncan on the shoulder and said “Come on, I wanna go see Raven before dinner. My brother wanted me to give her his portrait, the louse!”

Valestis led the way out and Duncan followed, but both he and the prince shared quizzical looks as they left. 1992.xx.xx

Changes

Tarin and Edea were seated a little closer to each other than they usually sat. Her head was resting wearily on his shoulder and under the table she placed her slight hand on Tarin’s knee. His hand reached down to squeeze hers reassuringly. They were still tired from their adventure in the desert tomb of Yakin the previous day.

Valestis sat across from Edea and looked at the door of the Bronze Halberd at least once every thirty seconds. Seated beside him opposite his view to the door, Raina attempted to pull the paladin’s attention from it, but even her clingy, low-cut pale blue silk shirt wasn’t enough to distract him from worrying.

Team B, as they referred to themselves, was waiting on the return of Team A. Their friends Duncan, Sivora, Gold, and Zander were out on an adventure. When the heroes of Belfort had decided to go about systematically eliminating the Ash House strongholds scattered throughout Avalon, Sivora had suggested that they form two teams and take turns. They decided how to divide up and Sivora’s idea was thus far extremely effective. It allowed for enough of them to go to clear out the evil they encountered, and allowed them to rest while the other team took their turn. The worst part was what they were now in the grips of…waiting on the other team.

“Relax. They’re fine. Sivora’s with them. Besides, he’s the chosen one!” joked the ranger, referring to Duncan’s destiny. He was trying to get everyone to loosen up a little, but his eyes were heavy with concern for his friends as well. They had encountered a powerful necromancer in their last adventure, and somehow knew the stakes had risen. Who knew what evil had awaited their comrades.

“Yeah,” Edea chimed in, raising her head from Tarin’s shoulder, “and Zander’s there to protect them.” Laughter leaked from all of them for a few moments and then dissolved into silence. “Truth be known,” Valestis finally spoke up “I’d rather Zander were here. This place is dead!” He was loosening up a bit after all.

“No, then we’d just have to keep him away from Raina all night!” Edea kept the humorous flow of conversation intact.

“Well, thief, you could just flash him some skin and take him for yourself!” The half-elf sorceress was always in the mood for exchanging verbal volleys with her rogue accomplice. “You’re flashing enough skin for the both of us already, slut!” Edea quickly retorted and looked hard at Raina’s full, and strategically exposed, bosom. “You’re just jealous, waif!” Raina fired back, smiling fiercely.

Tarin and Valestis had both focused on the bosom in question that had been reintroduced to their mutual attention. Valestis caught himself staring and forced his neck up and his eyes forward. Tarin, however, let his gaze linger. A little too long perhaps. “Tarin!” Edea jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, but he held his attention on Raina’s cleavage, albeit with his eyes closed and suppressing a laugh. “You perv!” she growled.

Even Raina was looking at her own chest now. She swung her head to her left to see if he was looking too, but the paladin was busy focusing on the opposite wall with all of his available willpower. She thought she saw his lips move. Was he praying?

Now Edea was genuinely mad, though. It was bad enough for Tarin to look at another woman, but much, much worse to look at Raina! She grabbed the scruff of Tarin's beard and forcefully turned his attention to her. “Ass!” she hollered before seeing his squinting eyes and silent laugh. “Double ass!” she belted out, realizing that Tarin had been successful in getting a rise out of her yet again. She threw his head back and muttered “Bastard,” but failed to suppress a smile of her own.

Raina, still fixed on her womanly assets, said “I don’t think it’s too much skin.” She decided she would put him on the spot this time. “Do you, Sir Valestis?” He turned to face her and she batted her eyes, faking innocence in the question.

He had to clear his throat, but never took his eyes from hers as he responded. “Um, no ma’am. I would say that they border on spectacular.” What the hell had he just said! Laughter exploded from across the table. Tarin and Edea were reared back in full belly-laughs before he could stumble out another response.

“I mean, uh, maybe it is a little too revealing.” He got up quickly without looking at any of the other three in the eye. “Excuse me,” he sheepishly muttered. Only Raina heard him over the guffaws from their companions.

He stepped outside of the Bronze Halberd and headed toward their roped off teleportation spot. As he approached, he could smell electricity and feel the arcane energy in the air. He picked up his pace to reach his incoming friends. He arrived just in time to be greeted by Zander, who was announcing their victory.

“We took out a damn lich, white eyes! A lich!” He pumped his fist. “Yeah!” Valestis heard through the boasting into the heart of it and collared the jubilant bard. “A lich?!” the paladin demanded. The bard was halted, but his exuberance was undaunted. “That’s what I said! A damn lich! Top that one, paladin boy! Ha Ha!”

Valestis let the bard go and he bolted for the Bronze Halberd. No doubt, he would tell the whole town in a matter of minutes. Valestis saw Gold, Duncan, and Sivora approaching him with less enthusiasm. Gold looked weary and a bit shaken. Duncan and Sivora were weary as well, and they walked very close to one another, but looked well enough for survivors of a lich encounter.

Gold just trudged past the approaching paladin. He was at his wits end for the time being. The lich’s first fireball had forced him and the bard to retreat down the hallway. Zander had healed him, and he could have fought more if he had been needed, but he was still dealing with the encounter in his head. Having been a father once, Valestis understood him all too well.

Zander could already be heard gushing out his own praise. “Tamizander the brave has come to inform you of his victory over an unholy creature so foul; few are those who can survive such an encounter! I have bested a lich!”

Sivora, shaking her head, spoke first when the three were finally close enough. “I guess you heard,” she said dryly, but still not able to contain a smile at the bard’s antics. “Indeed,” replied Valestis, anxious to hear all the details. Liches fascinated him in a way that one studies their arch enemy in hopes of finding a weakness to exploit. He simply could not fathom why any creature would choose to become undead.

They had all convened at the Halberd, recanting the victory and filling each other in over pints of spirits and water. Duncan turned down an ale, and no one but Valestis seemed to take note, though Sivora glanced a few times at his beverage. As the heroes dispersed one by one, or by two, it ended up that only Valestis, Duncan, Sivora, and Raina were at the table. Raina’s further attempts at enticing the aasimar had been thwarted by the conversation and his apparent interest in undead things. Yuck. She would have to wait. It would take a little more work, perhaps, than she was used to, but he would be worth it. Anyway, she had set her eyes on him and couldn’t back down now or Edea would ride her ass with that for the rest of her life!

Raina got up from the table, patted Sivora and Duncan on the shoulders and then passed a delicate hand through Valestis’s stark white locks. She patted him on the head with that hand before bidding them goodnight and running her fingers lightly down the paladin’s neck before finally departing. Valestis shivered with the contact and the flesh on his head and neck tingled. He had to close his eyes and shake his head to concentrate on anything else.

“Looks like you may have found a fan, Val” Sivora announced, before swallowing a large bite of roasted meat. She chuckled as she chased it with a long chug of beer. The fermented goodness was running down the side of her face, but she let it reach her chin before wiping it off. “Oh, the irony!” She let her fork clank off her now empty plate and officially wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“Any other man would be falling over himself chasing her right now, but not you. That’s priceless! You could use a good lay, though, ya know. You should think about becoming a cleric instead and get some tail, boy! Especially that tail! Hell, if I didn’t already know that Duncan would only want to join in, I’d chase her too!” The men laughed, but neither was in the moment as much as Sivora and she gathered that quickly. Gulping down the last of her Belfort Beer, she excused herself, asking Duncan “You coming up tonight?”

Duncan looked up at her and smiled. “Sorry, Red, I think I’ll have to sit out this round.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself, but there’s always a chance I’ll go hunt down Raina!” She laughed at her teasing, but the two holy warriors just smiled at her. Sighing, she just shook her head and trotted off to her room.

Duncan turned to Valestis, but the aasimar was already looking at him, as if expecting something. “I… I” Duncan couldn’t believe that he was having difficulty telling this man what had changed within him. Perhaps it was because of the times he had lied about that same thing happening. Whatever the reason, he was having trouble telling his friend the good news.

“You heard the call.” Valestis spoke what Duncan could not.

“Yes! How did you know? When did you know?” The cleric-turned-paladin was amazed.

“I knew something was different from the moment you stepped out of the cave, friend. But until just now, I did not know exactly what. I take it that no one else knows?” The veteran paladin explained his insight to Duncan nonchalantly.

“No. No one else. I feel so different, yet really the same. I can’t describe it. How will they understand? How do I, what do I do?” Duncan really wasn’t asking for advice; he was just seeking reassurance that things wouldn’t change too much.

Valestis patted his friend on the shoulder and held his hand there for a few seconds before responding. “They can’t understand. Not really, anyway. That’s one reason we paladins are such a tight-knit group. It cannot be explained. You grew up around paladins just as I did. You know that there’s something inside us which cannot be translated into language. It just is,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Just be yourself, friend.” The aasimar’s knowing smile was both disarming and comforting. “It’s who you are now and in time, it will be apparent in everything about you, though not everyone will appreciate it. I hope that helps, because your real question, I don’t know the answer to.”

Duncan looked up from his water glass and Valestis continued “I don’t know what you should do about Sivora. She knows something is different, I’m sure, but she doesn’t know what yet. Just tell her before she figures it out on her own. Other than that, it should be painfully obvious during the tenure of our friendship that I have no idea how to handle the opposite sex!”

The new paladin laughed at his friend’s admission. Valestis laughed with him and backed up his statement with examples. “I mean, I didn’t court Tia and then went and got my dumb-ass killed! I slept with a priestess before I came back, and I won’t even tell you what I said about Raina’s bosom earlier tonight!”

Choking sounds came from Duncan’s throat and his fist slammed into his barrel chest a few times before he could speak. “A priestess!” he wheezed, shocked and still removing water from his lungs. “And what did you say about Raina’s bosom? Did you say it to her?” All Valestis could do was nod and continue to laugh as he wiped tears from his face.

“Oh, Duncan, I made a complete fool of myself, but you won’t get the details from me!” he admitted and the two friends shared their hearty laughter for some minutes before calming down.

“Now it’s my turn,” began Valestis, “what should I do about Raina?” This only caused Duncan to laugh hard once again. It was a full two minutes before he replied. “Well, for starters, don’t talk about her chest in front of her, man!”

The two paladins laughed themselves weary and dispersed, with the understanding that Duncan had more questions he would like answered the next day, when they were both better rested. The crew had decided to take some time off to gear up and really rest. That would give Duncan plenty of time to ask all the questions he wished.

The next day, the artificial daylight lit up Merchant’s Row just as it had done for weeks. The streets were buzzing with anticipation from the news that the Prince was throwing a celebration banquet for the heroes of Belfort at the end of the week. People in the streets could be heard saying things like “I remember when they got here! They weren’t more then mercenaries then!” and “It’s about time someone showed them a little gratitude,” and people even asked for their autographs. It was quite a spectacle and certainly not something they were used to. It also made shopping for clothes a little more difficult.

Valestis was being measured for a new pair of pants and the poor seamstress was shaking so badly that she couldn’t hold her measuring tape straight. He tried to calm her down, but the girl was just too awestruck to be of any use.

Raina, watching the girl squirm from an adjacent merchant booth, enjoyed the scene with a smile when an idea hit her. After the girl poked Valestis with a needle for the fifth time, she finally sauntered over and shoved the girl aside. “Gimme that! You’re gonna kill a hero before he can be honored!” she berated the mortified woman.

Raina snatched the tape and the pin cushion from her, knelt down before Valestis and picked up where the overcome seamstress had left off. Valestis looked down and frowned at Raina. “You didn’t have to yell at her,” he scolded. He immediately looked back up. She was wearing something low-cut and tight again. He could see quite a lot from his vantage point and his manhood was already starting to use the blood departing from his face.

She didn’t bother to look up at him, but instead cackled “Hush up or I’ll poke you somewhere it hurts more!” Valestis’s hands instantly fell to cover his manly anatomy and the gathering crowd laughed.

Sivora and Duncan had been almost in tears from laughter at their friend’s predicament before Raina had arrived. The woman warrior leaned over to her lover and whispered “I can’t wait ‘til she gets to the inseam!” Duncan’s laughter got more emphatic, finding a hold in belly. Sensing he was on the edge of an outburst, Sivora leaned in and whispered once more “Ten to one he just did that to hide wood!”

Duncan couldn’t hold it “STOP IT!” he howled. The uncontrollable tears of laughter streamed down his face. Seeing this, Sivora couldn’t contain herself and doubled over in hysterics.

Tarin and Edea came running over from their shopping to check the disturbance. “What’s all the commotion –“Tarin’s voice stopped when he saw the scene. Raina was kneeling before Valestis, now having positioned herself in front of him to take measurements for his inseam. Her head was bobbing up and down slightly, but it was both noticeable and noticed. The scene was one that no one could have even dreamed about witnessing. Valestis could hear the enchanting half-elf cussing the tailoring attempts of the seamstress and in the process, her head was moving about. The paladin’s face was as white as his eyes. He was petrified. He had a good idea of what the scene looked like from the crowd’s point of view, and it was not good. His hands were still at his crotch, and Raina merely pushed them aside to take measurements, but somehow managed to avoid contact with any really private areas.

Edea slid through the crowd and between Tarin’s legs. “Oh my,” she gasped. Tarin saw the look on his friend’s face and joined Sivora and Duncan in the growing cacophony of laughter. If it was okay for his closest friends to laugh at his obvious and painful embarrassment, then apparently the other people felt alright about it, because the number of laughing participants grew with every torturous second.

Valestis closed his eyes. He didn’t care about the laughing; he just didn’t want Raina to fondle him in public. He didn’t think she would, but he was not certain she wouldn’t. It will all be over soon, he told himself.

How different this was from Neverwinter astonished him. Aasimars are far more common across the sea and this was just another reminder of it. The poor salesgirl had been so intimidated and awed by his presence, she couldn’t keep herself from shaking while touching him, even through fabric of his new pants! By the time Raina had rescued her, the sad girl was in tears, having jabbed him a handful of times. His bottom would be sore for sure.

Oddly enough, Raina was a quick and efficient seamstress and took half the time to finish the job completely and correctly. When she finished, she handed the tape and the pin cushion back to the salesgirl, who had managed to dry her eyes and calm herself enough to stand up straight. The half-elf blonde bombshell didn’t even bother looking at Valestis as she wiggled away, exaggerating her hips as she did so. Passing through the crowd and her friends, she winked playfully at Edea.

Sivora grabbed her arm as she passed by, fresh tears evaporating from the hot flesh on her face “You shoulda at least grabbed his ass, girl.” “No,” Raina replied, shaking her head as she continued walking away. “He would have liked that.” They couldn’t see her wicked smile, but they all knew it was there.

When the scene had died down and the crowd dispersed, Valestis paid the still weak- kneed salesgirl and joined the two unofficial couples for some more shopping. When he got close enough, he told Edea “You’re roommate’s driving me crazy.”

“You don’t share a room with her!” Edea responded. “Her cat sleeps right on your face and she talks in her sleep!” She skipped to Tarin’s side and took his arm.

“Really,” replied Valestis, interested in more. “What does she talk about?”

Edea smiled mischievously. This wanna gonna be too easy. “Oh, Valestis this and Valestis that,” she said, imitating Raina’s voice as best she could. “Harder, harder. Faster, faster. That kind of thing.” She was pushing as many buttons as she could at once.

All eyes turned to her. “Edea!” Sivora was warning her that taking the joke further might just anger someone.

Valestis wasn’t angered, though. “No way? Really?” He wasn’t asking anyone in particular, but Edea answered him anyway, giggling. “Maybe.”

“I need new shoes,” she announced. “Who wants to go with me?” She was looking at Tarin, but all the men just groaned. She folded her slight arms over her chest and shot Tarin daggers with her eyes.

Sivora stepped forward, trying to rescue the men. “I’ll go. I could use some too.”

Edea wasn’t done being mean for the day though, and took a shot at Sivora as well. “You better take those clods with ya then. I don’t think they make women’s fashions in your size.” She didn’t even bother to look before she ducked and twirled away from a blow that would have easily sent her sprawling to the ground, even though it was thrown lightly.

With her quick punch whiffing and colliding with only air, Sivora staggered until Duncan stepped to grab her and keep her from falling. Edea stood just out of reach and was smiling widely at getting a good one in Sivora like she was her older sister. In the right context, the comment could have hurt the warrior’s feelings, but she knew the little rogue was being playful and could see the joy on her face from their relationship. Edea had never known real family except for these people around her now and Sivora appreciated being part of it, even if it meant being the butt of a joke from time to time.

However, she couldn’t just let the comment slide. “You little runt!” she growled, faking anger. Everyone, including Edea let loose a short gasp. “What?” Sivora questioned. “I said ‘runt’.” Then she went after Edea again. The lithe thief had no trouble keeping her distance from the more cumbersome woman. She darted in and out of the men and slipped under their legs as well. Edea ended up behind Tarin, with only him between herself and Sivora.

She peeked her head out from behind his back and stuck out her tongue. “Na na na na na, you can’t catch me,” she teasingly sang.

Sivora stood in front of Tarin. She was actually just a touch taller than him, though he was easily thicker. “Stand aside, ranger,” she spat, winking at her friend. Tarin took a large step to his left and exposed Edea to her assailant. “Tarin!” shouted the shocked girl. “You’re in big trouble!”

Sivora collared her and warned “You’re the one in trouble missy! I oughta give you a good hard spanking right here in the middle of town to control your sass!” She heard the sharp intake of breath around her.

Duncan, Valestis, and Tarin were all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “You sickos!” Sivora chided. “I was just joking. Soooo…” She turned her attention back to Edea. The girl actually looked frightened a little.

Sivora wrapped an arm around her neck and put her in a headlock. Edea had no chance of escape. “So, it’s noogie time!” Sivora continued. Edea struggled some more and laughed now that she was certain Sivora wasn’t going to punish her for real.

Sivora’s hard knuckle rubbed the top of her skull. “OW! Siv, that hurts! Stop it!” She was complaining and wiggling, but she was still laughing. After a few moments, Sivora let the girl loose and she stood up, rubbing her head. “Ow. No fair.”

Tarin stepped to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “What do you want?” She kidded. “You betrayed me! I’m hurt.” She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted her lip. “You made that bed, dear” the ranger reminded. “And I did not want to lay in it. You got off lucky, though. I woulda voted for the spanking,” he teased.

“You would, perv,” Edea said, turning and taking his hand in hers anyway. “I still need shoes…” she reminded them all.

Sivora took her other hand and snatched her from Tarin’s grasp. “The girls are going shopping,” she informed them. “And afterward, we’re gonna locate Raina and have a shower.” She winked down at Edea. “Make sure you meet us for lunch at the Halberd after you collect your tongues!” Then she and Edea trotted off to find some fashionable footwear.

The three men were left there wondering if Sivora was just joking. She’d teased them a number of times about doing things with Raina and they all had either been present for or heard about the infamous ‘Ever been with a woman’ scene.

“Nah,” Tarin finally said. “Edea wouldn’t go for that. At least I don’t think she would.” He was still thinking about the spanking anyway, though he was trying in earnest not to.

He turned to Duncan and Valestis. With Edea likely occupied until lunch, he had a chance to speak with Prince Artorius alone and without a lot of questions arising. After word of the Prince’s celebration plans reached his ears, he had hunted her down to tell her, but Edea already knew. He asked her if she would accompany him to the dinner right then and there. She yelled an affirmative and jumped up into him to hug his neck and rub her face against his beard. He liked it when she did that. Even remembering it made him smile.

Duncan and Valestis were studying him. Tarin realized he was under scrutiny, but was more concerned about his new idea. He had just come up with a better plan than merely escorting Edea to the dinner. Now he had two things to speak to the prince about.

“I’ll sniff you two jerks later. Gotta go talk to a man about a horse,” he jested, as if he just needed to go to the bathroom. As he jogged away, Valestis hollered behind him “You leave Aerie alone, fool!”

Duncan and Valestis shared a laugh as the ranger took off toward the middle of town. “Man,” Valestis pondered out-loud “he sure has changed.” Duncan looked at him and reminded him “He’s not the only one.” Valestis nodded at his friend. “You want to continue that talk now?” Duncan nodded back and they started an aimless walk around the city streets.

“I didn’t have a mentor, Duncan, so I hope I can help,” Valestis began their conversation with the stipulation that he did not have all answers, and he never would. “I was the only paladin of my temple in Neverwinter, and I’m the only paladin of Kelemvor I’ve ever seen on this plane,” he added as a reminder of the depth of a paladin’s call. It spanned the next life as well as this one, and it never ended.

“It’s not an easy road my friend, but you already know that. And seeing it, even as intimately as you have, isn’t the same as living it. There’s seldom a day that goes by that I don’t question something I’ve said or done. But those are mostly trifles.” The veteran paladin’s voice was gathering more confidence as he spoke. “You’ll find the core of it comes easier than one would think. The devil is in the details, so to speak.” They both chuckled softly at the use of the popular euphemism to describe a paladin’s pitfalls.

“Heironeous has chosen you for a reason, Duncan. Always be confident in that fact. No one just wakes up and decides to become a paladin. We have been selected. Some choose to ignore that selection, but for those of us who accept and embrace our fate…” His gaze drifted away and lingered in the air, “well, everything is different.” Duncan enjoyed the candidness of his friend’s narrative. Valestis’s use of the word ‘our’ reminded him that he had joined a group of comrades that did not hesitate to aid one another with any assistance required, even at the cost of their very lives.

Valestis let his friend indulge in his new thoughts for a moment before continuing. “You have a different perspective than most of us.” Again, Duncan felt a new camaraderie with the man by his choice of words. “You’ve wondered for years why you weren’t chosen. Why did Heironeous choose so many others, but not you? I’ve seen it in your eyes. The faint gnawing of doubt.” He stared hard at his friend and then smiled. “It’s gone now, of course, replaced with hopeful anticipation and that’s good. It suits you much better.” He stopped talking and walking for a moment before beginning both again.

“Concentrate on the two most important tenets. These concepts are familiar to you. You’ve been living by their code already. Compassion and Justice must govern your actions, Duncan, and it’s not always easy to balance the two. Compassion without Justice is a form of love, but can be seen as being weak-willed. Justice without compassion is simply tyranny, and tyranny is our enemy.” Valestis’s gaze instinctively drifted northwest, towards Rimule. He then turned back to his friend. “Essentially, we must play by the rules, while our foes have no such compulsions. But those rules are already known to you, friend. Let’s see…what else? You said you had some questions, so please ask.” Valestis let the conversation turn in Duncan’s eager hands.

Duncan frowned and pondered for a moment. He had so many questions. They buzzed in his head like a swarm of bees, darting to and fro. He snatched one into his grasp and asked “What about my behavior? What do I do?” The new paladin was searching for how to correctly phrase his question and was struggling. “I know that some of my habits may not be paladin-like,” he admitted.

Valestis chuckled a bit to loosen his friend’s mind. “You mean, ‘Can I have sex and drink?’.” The elder paladin had seen through to the true meaning of the other’s question. Duncan’s faced replied for him, reddening with embarrassment. “Of course you can,” Valestis informed him. “Just remember that you are a representative for Heironeous and everyone looks to you to set an example, especially others who share your faith.” Again, Valestis stopped and turned to Duncan, forcing his attention to him. “Even the clergy will look to you for guidance. They may give you orders, but there are many priests and they know that a handful of them do not have the effect as one paladin. We are no better than any other, just different. Our smaller numbers just add to the mystique.”

Valestis began walking again, leading the conversation. “There is no vow of celibacy involved or the prohibition of spirits. But, you don’t know any womanizing, boozer paladins do you?” he asked. Duncan just shook his head in response. “There’s a reason for that. We all have our own moral compass, Duncan. Trust in yourself, but do not hesitate to question your own thoughts and actions. If you have to ask if something is right, then you already have your answer. My father used to drink, but never got drunk. He was very affectionate towards my mother in public, even before they were married, I’m told. But she was the only one he was affectionate with. This just demonstrates that although we are paladins, and we are different, we are still people. We are awed enough as it is without alienating ourselves by placing us on an unreachable pedestal.” Valestis’s voice tinged with sadness when he spoke of his parents, but lost none of its firmness.

“That being said, each of us has our own code. At least as far as I can tell. There were other paladins of Heironeous in Neverwinter who walked the same path as my father, but were never seen with a drink in their hand or with their lips on a female, or male for that matter.” He glanced at Duncan, who had been studying his face in earnest for this portion of the lesson. “Like me,” Valestis continued his train of thought. “I don’t avoid alcohol because I think it’s evil. Sure, it can lead to bad things, but so can everything else. I never could hold my liquor. I promised myself the last time I threw up from being drunk that it would be the last time and it was. I’ve never seen a hammered paladin, and I wouldn’t expect to. You know yourself and your limits. And as for my chastity, it stems more from my own insecurities than anything else. You see, I wasn’t always this way. There was a time before I heard the call when I was promiscuous. Even at a young age. It was easy for me. Girls always held me differently in their eyes. I see that same look in women today. But, Marai, my priestess in Neverwinter, was the last woman I have been with since my wife, and that was years ago.”

Duncan let his mouth open a little. This admission was beyond anything the man could have expected to hear. He knew little of the aasimar’s life before he came to Avalon. All he really knew was that one day, he heard the call and another day it sent him across the sea. Here was the white knight, one of the most pious men he knew, admitting that even he wasn’t always that way. There was a before and an after. He had been married, but never talked about his wife. He found another question buzzing in his head and voiced it immediately. He had to know what drove this man down his path. Was his story a tragedy akin to his own, or something worse? “How did you hear the call?” he asked bluntly.

His question forced an eyebrow to rise on Valestis’s forehead. “An interesting question friend, and one that most people wouldn’t consider asking. Now that I think about it, none of you know my entire story, do you?” It was a rhetorical question. “Except Tia, and honestly I’m surprised that everyone else doesn’t know!” He made the moment lighter without belittling it.

“I lost my virginity at 13, before I really knew what the hell all the fuss was about. Like I said, it was easy. All I had to do was stare in their eyes and smile widely. For a few years, I just did whatever I fancied. There were plenty of girls, all of them older, and there were parties and plenty of idle time for wherever my whims carried me. Then, when I was 16, I fell in love. The next year we married and had a child.” This news hit Duncan like a physical blow and he had to take a step back and brace himself. His friend had been both a husband and a father!

Valestis allowed his friend a moment to recover and then continued. “My son was born less than nine months after our marriage, but that wasn’t why we did it. We were genuinely and truly in love. His name was Cyrin. He would be about five now. He was a beautiful baby. He had his mother’s soft features, but he had his father’s eyes.” There was a definite undercurrent of sadness flowing in his words. “They died when Neverwinter was overcome with undead.” Valestis was actually happy that he was telling this story. Before his death, he never would have been able to talk about it in such a manner. “No parent should outlive their child. Part of the reason I don’t a have a command is that because every time I see undead to this day, I see their faces and I know there are other wives and children who suffered the same fate and I am driven to rage. Even though I have seen them again in the Fugue Plane, the pain of their loss was rekindled when I returned. It is not as powerful as it was, but it is still there. That pain’s just part of being alive and I’ll gladly accept it while I still walk this earth.”

“I was slowly recovering from my own wounds received in the undead invasion when the visions began.” He looked up into the heavens, as if he was still seeking an answer to why they started. “At the time, my thoughts were dominated by questions. Why had I lived? Why me? I would have gladly traded places with Kaylessa and Cyrin in less than a heartbeat. The visions led me to the temple, still looking as it did when it was under the followers of Nerull. I knew very little about Kelemvor. The temple was an unappealing place. It still retained its frightening countenance and had many dark and insidious corners within. I was scared just being near it, but I had to find an answer to the scenes that played in my mind. The first person I told about my visions was the priest of Kelemvor at the temple. His was a face I was sadly familiar with. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but those visions were my calling. I healed quickly and began my training immediately. I was the first paladin of the temple of Kelemvor in Neverwinter. Now, I am not the only one, though I have never met the others.” This last statement caused him to smile widely with pride. That was something was he indeed proud of. His example had been followed by others, and that was what being a paladin is truly about.

Keeping with that train of thought, he continued on with his perspective. “We are examples, Duncan. Never forget that. Like it or not, others look up to us. It isn’t fair, but we are held to different standards. My chastity came from the fact that I was afraid of getting that close to someone again and losing them. Of course, in the end, the lack of closeness causes loss as well.” Duncan knew what his friend was referring to. He and Tia could have been extremely close by the time he was taken from them and may not have been able to replace him by now if he had allowed himself to fully accept the love they could have shared. Now, he did not have that chance. “Now,” mused the aasimar “I am still learning how to be close to women without panicking again, though you wouldn’t know that based on what happened this morning.” He referred to their half-elf sorceress friend Raina, and her seamstress antics earlier in the day.

Duncan closed his eyes and laughed at the recollection. Valestis laughed with him and then announced “I’m hungry. Is it lunchtime yet? Let’s go to the Halberd.” He slapped Duncan on the back, who was still laughing. He straightened his smile long enough to tease the aasimar by asking “Will you be able to eat if she shows up?”

1992.xx.xx

Could It Be Love in the Air?

"How do I look?" Edea asked. She had just stepped out from behind a tent on merchant's row in a long silk dress. The color was that of a white pearl and her black hair and blue eyes contrasted so sharply that passers-by couldn't help but linger to stare. All the attention was more than she appreciated.

"Oh my god, Edea you are so beautiful!" Tia squealed. "Yippeeeee! We found one!"

"Hmph," Raina grunted. "I still think she should go with the leather."

"I second that emotion," Sivora agreed. "She's a fighter, not just a lover. You can't set the wrong expectation."

"Oh bullshit," Raven snapped, now tossing her fingers through Edea's short locks trying to find the perfect tussled look. "She's a stunner and it's about time she quit lurking in all those shadows and got some sun on her face."

"I like the shadows," Edea scowled back. She was starting to shoot daggers at the growing crowd with her eyes. "And besides, there is no sun in this cursed country."

"Well, now, I understand that's being worked on, so hush," she said. Raven turned her around to look at the back. "My god, girl, you have no butt at all!"

"Nothing to grab onto," Sivora whispered to Raina, "he's not going to like that."

"He's used to humping wolves," Raina said back, "anything with tits will probably do."

"And where are your tits?" Raven said, "Honey! We've got to get you eating more!"

Sivora and Raina shared a snicker until one of Edea's daggers buried itself into the ground between them. The look they got from Edea was far more dangerous.

"She's as big as me and you tell me that I'm filling out all the time, Rae!" Tia defended. This got an even bigger laugh from the mischievous pair. Tia meant well, but Edea was wishing she didn't need defending from one who most insults flew over like a badly aimed arrow.

"Maybe I should go with the leather," Edea admitted. "That's what he's seen me in. That's what he met me in. And besides, I can strap a couple of bags of sand to my chest and down the back of my pants."

"Baby, feel this," Raven said, taking Edea's hand and placing it directly on her ample breast. "Does that feel like a bag of sand?"

"No," the rogue replied quietly. She never really felt insecure about her femininity because she was rarely in a position to act feminine. Now that she was, she was sure she didn't like it. It made her feel bad about herself. Here she could out fight almost any man she'd ever met, but in this dress, even these strangers held power over her self esteem. She wasn't womanly like Raven and probably never would be, no matter how hard she tried or trained… and that was depressing.

"Aw, come here, baby girl," Raven said, gathering Edea into her arms. "You are gonna knock that man out of his boots. You look stunning. Don't listen to those two weasels over there, they're just jealous. You think all these people would be trying to stare into your dress if you didn't have something to offer? Lord, baby, even the women are looking! Watch…"

Edea looked up at the people walking by and met their gaze. They were friendly and admiring. She didn't try to hurt them with her eyes, just to see what they thought of her and the unanimous answer was approval. A guard walking by that she knew from the garrison gave her a nod and a smile. A woman walking by with her daughter pointed her out and said something to the daughter that must have been "why can't you dress pretty like her". All of the judgment and disapproval she always thought was just behind her back wasn't there. The world actually seemed to approve of her, and she liked it. She stood up straighter and looked in the mirror, smoothing out the dress over her curves.

"I do too have tits," she said to Raven, and the crowd around her. Her sass was starting to come back. Damn it, she looked good.

"You're right, you do sweetie," Raven answered, "and lord if I had those abs!"

"Me too!" Tia joined in. "I'm starting to get soft eating over at Arthur's all the time." She pooched out her belly from under the shirt and poked it. Where a month ago there was nothing there, now there was a little bit thicker layer of flesh. Her face was filling out too, making her look even more cherubic and adorable than before. Newborn puppies and kittens would take one look at the girl and admit that she was the cutest thing they'd ever seen.

"Maybe you're knocked up," Sivora said in between chews, her attention now on some meat on a stick. All their eyes locked onto her as the weight of the statement hit her. "Uh, could be all the wine?"

"Drinking wine's not good for women with child," Raina said in a mock motherly tone. "You should lay off for the next nine months."

Edea started to smile in spite of herself. Raina was mean, but she was funny. She knew the young girl was being attacked when she didn't deserve it, but at least the attention was off of her a while.

"How could I have his baby, we aren't married!" Tia yelled back.

"Well, it could be a little bastard," Raina replied matter-of-factly. "It sure would be a handsome little bastard."

"I'm not having a bastard, Raina, now stop it." Tia warned. Her temper was starting to flare, but there was not a more harmless person that the sorceress had ever come across. She was not about to stop her fun.

"Now how do you know? Would you like me to cast a spell to find out?" Raina offered, still playing the role of concerned friend expertly.

"Can you do that?" Tia replied sincerely, taking the bait.

Sivora was biting a hole in her lip trying not to spoil the mood. "Shit, elf, I thought I was mean," she said under her breath. Like everyone else, she admired Raina's physical beauty, but had never gotten to know anything about her personally. She liked her so far today.

"Well, I can try, Tiara," Raina said back. She always addressed her by her full name, just to get under her skin a bit. Tia was just too cute, and Raina liked being the cutest one in a room. "I didn't know I could set fire to a battlefield full of zombies and ghouls either until I tried."

"Well I don't want you getting those two spells crossed!" Tia said back. That made Raven and Sivora lose their cool and start laughing. Edea still managed to keep a straight face, having played the bad cop to Raina's good cop many times before.

"How long ago do you think you might have conceived?" Edea asked. This was where the conversation was headed all along. Raina was such an artist, and Edea loved to join a master at work.

"Well, the only time was the first time and that was right when Valestis came back," Tia reported innocently. The women didn't know they could get her to confirm the rumors, but she just had.

"Good god, you're fucking the Prince!" Sivora shouted in glee. "Hell yeah, baby girl. HELL YEAH!"

"Wait, no we," Tia stammered. The weight of the admission sank her like a stone. "Oh crap. He's going to be so mad at me."

"Oh pup," Raven said, "you didn't."

"It was really sweet," she said. "When Val came back, I was just shocked. But we talked and I really felt good about it and I really thought about how even though he was the man of my dreams that I really loved Arthur and then after dinner I seduced him." At the end of her impromptu explanation, everyone's jaws dropped.

"You seduced him…" Sivora asked. "The prince. The famed leader of the Knights of the Round Table. That's how it went down?"

"Yeah," Tia replied. "After everyone left, we were sitting in front of the fireplace talking and he was being really quiet. I guess he was nervous about Val being back and it was just so sweet so I got into his chair with him and started kissing him and the next thing he knew, I had his pants off, and well, there's only one place to go from there!" At the end of this, she snorted out a laugh which brought a few more chuckles from her audience, but mostly more disbelief.

"You man-raped a prince," Raina repeated, believing now that it was Tia and not her that had been playing a mind-game. "The prince."

"Oh, he was so into it," Tia assured them. "Especially by the time we got to the library."

"Library?"

"Well, yeah," she said, "we couldn't just let anyone walk by and see our asses in the wind! He is a royal you know, there's a certain air of respectability to be kept up."

"Oh, what a queen you will make, pup," Raven chortled. "A real lady of the land."

"Queen?" she puzzled. Since their meeting, she'd never thought of Arthur as Prince Artorious, just as Arthur, her boyfriend. She'd given a little thought to what it was going to be like meeting his parents with all their fame and celebrity, but it hadn't hit her that she might be meeting her in- laws, and her royal predecessors. "Oh shit, Rae! Oh SHIT! RAE!"

"Calm down, baby cakes," Sivora said to her, dropping her bare stick and moving to catch her should she drop. "Just breathe; it's not the first time it's happened for either of you."

Tia's eyes looked up at her in tears. Raina and Edea caught each other's eyes. "What kind of Pandora's Box did you open?" they seemed to ask each other.

"Not your first time, darlin'," Raven said. Tia shook her head.

"NO!" Edea gasped.

Tia nodded.

"Worgshit!" Raina replied. "You are playin' us you little sprite!"

Tia shook her head. Her wide eyes said it all. It was the truth.

"YOU MAN-RAPED A VIRGIN PRINCE!" Raina howled in joy. People stopped what they were doing to look over at the stunning elf who'd become quite famous in the last several days in Belfort. Her voice had hit a nearly incomprehensible pitch, so mostly they were just making sure that fire would not ignite the marketplace. Before she could clarify, Sivora pushed her back down into a sitting position.

"He didn't say until after," Tia said in a quiet hiss. "Do you think he was lying because he thought I was?"

"Probably," Edea replied. "All men are liars, which is why it's smart to lie to them first."

"No," Sivora said. "I'm thinking it's the truth. The details are a little hazy, but I think I heard him and Duncan talking about it." Another thought stopped her cold. "Oh damn, are you pregnant?"

"No," Tia said firmly. "I don't think so… do you really know a spell, Raina?"

Now the ultimate ass of her own joke, Raina had to reply no. The disappointment on Tia's face was hard to take. "I was just looking for some juicy stories, chick, I didn't know you really did him."

"Well, I did," Tia said with no joy in her tone. "And now I'm probably going to be locked in a tower when his mom finds out."

"I didn't know they put throne rooms in towers," Edea said in an absent-minded tone. She did it on purpose, and the reaction was as she thought it would be.

"You really think he would marry someone like me?" Tia asked, scared to death of the answer because Edea was so often setting her up to look stupid.

"Babe, if I'm standing here dressed like this to try and impress a man," she said with her arms sweeping down over her dress, "then you are a shoo-in to be the next princess of Belois." She smiled at Tia who rushed over to hug her. Edea slipped trying to backpedal and stepped on the train of the dress, shredding the stitching and exposing briefly the very milky white skin on her rear end. The agility of the rogue managed to keep herself and the girl from falling and also covering herself with a very floppy hat from a nearby stand. She looked sheepishly at the seamstress who'd excused herself to let them talk.

"I think I'll keep looking," Edea shouted across the square. "Right after I buy this one!"

All five women began to laugh in earnest and rushed to help their friend out of her very expensive dust rag.

------

"Would you like it better if I wore more dresses?" Sivora asked as Duncan lay in the tub. She liked to ask questions that she didn't already know the answer to when he was in the tub. It kept him vulnerable and also let him know that she was looking for a serious answer.

"I love your nightdress," he replied. "What's left of it."

She leaned in to kiss him quickly. "Well who can blame you for being excited, dear?"

"But, really, what if I dressed like Tia?"

"You'd never fit in her clothes, she's half your size."

Sivora smacked him on the back of the head. Now she was being serious.

"Well, I think you'd look great, Red," Duncan said honestly. "I think you are the strongest, bravest person I've ever shared a battlefield with, but you are also the sexiest woman I've ever known. Why not try something new?"

"Well, I will start buying dresses if you start shaving and cutting your hair," she shot back.

"When did this become about me?" Duncan replied. "I was just answering your question."

"Just because you bathe all the time like a woman doesn't mean you are all that pretty, my boy," she replied. "You could use some more flattering fashions to show off that bod. All this righteous killing has made you a bit broader through the shoulders. Ever since the cave…"

They hadn't really talked much about his experience in the cave. She'd wanted so badly to follow him, to protect him, but he had to go in alone. She was more afraid of losing him at that moment then at any other of the potentially fatal moments they'd shared. When he appeared, she knew he was changed forever.

"I am different, Siv," he said back. "Everything has changed."

"I know," she said, looking at her feet. She hated her big feet. "I think that I knew when I saw you. I figured this talk was coming."

He rose out of the water and covered himself with a thick cloth robe. He sat down on the edge of the steel basin and took her hand.

"I spent my youth waiting," he started, "I was waiting to hear the call and become a paladin. I wanted so desperately for Heironeous to make me one of his soldiers. I knew I had the ability, the natural strength, the ability to lead, I was far ahead of many others that were hearing his call to become paladins… but it never came."

"I tried to fake it, going to my father and godfather to start my training, but soon it was obvious that I was not yet touched by my lord and I was expelled. Father tried to send me to the Stormcloud Monks, thinking that my physical ability was to be used in a more natural way, but I didn't have the discipline of mind or body to pass the trials, and it nearly killed me. You know that's how I got this…"

Duncan pushed back the robe to reveal the scar that perfectly circled his right bicep; a thick pink mass of skin that reminded him always of the day it was cleaved from his body and lay apart from him on the floor. Sivora reached over and lightly brushed the rough skin as she'd done a hundred times. Before it had turned her on, fantasizing about how the rough warrior had earned such a medal of honor, but now the real story was a sad one.

"So I failed my father, my god, my king, and most of all, myself. I nearly wished for death, but I knew that was a greater sin than all the lies I'd told. Then a priestess came, a friend of my father's, who healed me. We spoke for days. She told me that I was extremely strong, but eventually that I'd have to believe in myself to accomplish my dreams. She also said that I was right to go out and force my destiny to show itself. I couldn't wait around for life to find me like Gun; I had to pursue it, even if I didn't know the path."

"So, I moved to Rimule and studied under Shandall. I learned to heal and fight and was in everyone's eyes but my own everything that they expected me to become. I followed my heart, but still lingered with the question, why wasn't I as special as everyone else thought I was? Even with you, I wondered over and over how to tell you that I wasn't good enough for you, but I didn't want to lose you…"

"Duncan," she started, "if anyone isn't good enough…"

"Please, love," he said. It was the first time either of them had used that word or a form of it with each other. "Please let me finish."

"I was incomplete, a paladin in body, but a cleric in mind. My power and ability progressed, but my spirit was in a stalemate. Then in the cave, I was told something that I never would have believed ten, five, or even a single year ago. I was told that I was chosen to defeat this evil, that I alone was born in this generation to accomplish this task. I saw myself through Tia, and Gun, and Raven, and you… and I knew it was the truth. It's not because of blood, I don't even think the Bane's are descended from Indoril. No, it was me, the combination of my mind, body, and soul, which formed a key to fit this specific lock. I am the One."

"I knew from the moment you took command," she admitted. "You were always greater than me, but you never applied the limit of your powers. You never focused. Now you are what your father and godfather are: a leader, a knight, and a champion."

"You knew?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "And that has caused me more fear than any undead minion we've faced. I liked being the stronger, the leader, and now I am the one not worthy. I am not pure enough to be with you anymore. We have to end this."

He reached for her hand again, which she'd pulled away from his warm grasp.

"You have more good in you than you think," he said. "I know this."

Sivora never cried, not even when she broke bones or had her bleeding skin hanging from her muscles. She was about to break that rule now.

"How do you know?" she mouthed to him, without an audible sound.

"I know this because I've heard the voice of my god after all of these years who set me on this path and guided me throughout. He guided me to Rimule, into the path of Valestis, through the hardships of Belfort, and into your arms. Without you, I would not be what I am."

"What?" she said, still trying to understand the words.

"Sivora, I am a paladin."

His eyes seemed to shine brighter and his skin seemed to glow. Duncan had a power over divine magic, but this was more internal. He now had a strength that was unmistakable. His change was not in his mind, as she'd suspected. She thought he'd finally take his place with Artorious and become his aide-de-camp. She knew he'd offer her a post, but one she could never accept because she wouldn't be able to stand the distance that would grow between them. Eventually she would get over him and be able to reflect without pain, but the process would be harder than any battle she would ever fight. For all of that, she'd prepared herself, but not for this.

"You're a paladin?" She repeated.

"And you are a servant of Good. You may have not always seen it, but you are. I know you pride yourself on giving and accepting orders, but you have only done so when the result will defend the innocent or punish the evil. When you had a chance to follow a liege you knew was unjust, you rejected it. Sivora, you and I are joined in this, and in another way."

"Heh," she chuckled through a loud sniffle. "I guess that's got to stop now that you are a big time paladin, huh?" She looked at him and smiled big. "Can't do those kinds of things to me anymore, you are supposed to be a beacon for good. Too bad, you were much better with that sword than your other."

"Well, I have a solution to that," he said. He walked over to the bed and reached under his pillow. She used the opportunity to wipe her eyes and clean her nose. She didn't know how weepy girls like Tia ever kept a man.

"You know you don't have to buy me stuff to get into my bed, boy" she said sarcastically. She discouraged him from showing her public affection, but she really was getting over that. "Well, it's more of a traditional thing," he said. "When we were in Silverbow, I got a package from my mother. Turns out, Arthur wrote her and told her about us."

"That shit," she said. "What, now I've got to wear a big scarlet 'A' on my armor or something?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of this," he replied, opening the small box. It was an ornately carved piece with a lift off lid. When he removed it, a platinum ring adorned with a flawless diamond was revealed. Sivora noticed that he was getting down on one knee.

"Lady Swordwraith, will you be my wife?"

"You bastard," she said, holding the box in her hands. Her clean up job in the bathroom was completely undone as thick, watery tears flowed from her eyes. "I thought we were going to break up."

"Until death do us part," Duncan replied.

"Oh great," she laughed, "So, in two weeks I'll already be a widow?"

"Most likely, if not sooner," he replied. "Be my wife?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"I'm gonna have to have more enthusiasm than that," he said. She jumped into his arms, knocking him back onto the bed and pinned him down with her legs.

"YES! YES! OH YES!!!!" she shouted at the tops of her lungs, imitating her most powerful orgasm. She started to hop up and down on the bed, making it bang into the wall. "YES! I'LL MARRY YOU! YES! OHHHHH…YES!!!"

"Are you done?" he asked from below her.

"Not yet," she said, looking down at him, biting her bottom lip. She drew in a big breath for a grand finale.

"I LOVE YOU, DYCANNUS BANE!"

------

"Did you hear that?" Raina asked, sewing in the last few stitches of Edea's dress.

"Sounds like Sivora's getting some afternoon delight," she snorted. "Ow, bitch!"

"Sorry," Raina said, removing the needle from just under Edea's skin. "When you make me laugh I can't do this."

"I hope he doesn't grab my ass," Edea said, rubbing her cheek again. "It's going to hurt like hell."

"And probably draw blood," Raina agreed. "Don't rub it, you'll get blood everywhere. Let me move the patch again."

"Why don't you ask the paladin to come lay his healing hands on it?" Edea teased. "Hmmm, that would fix me right up. GOD DAMN IT, OW!"

"You deserved that one, you rag," Raina hissed. "Why are you getting all dressed up for the nature lover if you are going to get naked with the celestial?"

"A girl has a lot of needs," Edea replied. "One for each day of the week."

"Well, he's my Sunday because I ain't taking seconds from any woman," Raina laughed.

"My week starts on Monday, bitch," Edea yelled happily. Raina started laughing again, cutting the last thread after it was in place.

"There, you clumsy shit, I fixed it," Raina said with pride. "Better than new."

"Where did you learn that?" Edea asked.

"You think I buy my clothes this tight?" Raina asked, sticking out her chest to allow the imprint of her nipples to pierce the fabric. "Not in any civilized town."

"Which is why Zander found you in Pirgos, at the GAY BAR?" Edea shouted, jumping out of the way of the backhand slap aimed at her cheek.

"Most pointless night of my life," she recalled. "I thought any man could be turned."

"You got to fuck 'em eventually, babe," Edea said back, looking in the mirror at her silhouette. She had to admit to herself that Raven and Tia knew what they were doing; she looked more beautiful than she though possible.

"Then why did I go to all that trouble to re-cover your butt?" Raina said, "Since you're just going to strip for him, I could have saved myself an afternoon!"

"You've never had your hands on a nicer piece!" Edea shot back, now filled with pride. She was going to wow a man in a way she never had before. It was exciting.

"Only every time I bathe, bitch," Raina said back over her shoulder. Then she reached down her back slowly over her rear end, extended her fingers, and squeezed herself seductively. "Hmmm, that's nice," she purred.

"Keep it up," Edea retorted, "and you'll go blind."

"Maybe my eyes will turn white," she cooed, making it obvious who she was thinking about touching her in the same way. "If I tell him his little serf made it with the big, bad prince then he'll take it out on me!"

"That's evil," Edea told her sternly.

"Oh, then maybe I'll confess and get a spanking!" she replied laughing and smacked herself. "Oh yeah, harder!" she yelled to the air and smacked herself harder.

"You are ridiculous, elf," Edea said back, applying some of the eye make up that Raven had given her. "You are all talk."

"I am not," she said indignantly, "and I'm not an elf."

"What does that mean?" Edea asked, sensing she'd hurt Raina's feelings.

"If I was an elf, I wouldn't have this life," she said. "My stupid mother had to go and lie with that old ranger and conceive me. Now I can't go home, she is in exile, and my father's dead. I don't belong." Her voice trailed off.

"Raina," Edea said softly, "your father was a hero and so was your mother. Your mother cared for you for years, you told me so."

"The only father I knew threw us out when he found out about my mother's deception. I went from an honored child to a street urchin in weeks. I was an outcast!" Raina became very emotional. She was usually a sarcastic wit and never let things get too intimate, but something had made her choose to do so now. Edea crossed the room to comfort her friend.

"My father was dead before I could remember him," she confided. "My mother didn't give up her life to take care of me, she gave up me to reclaim her life. I was raised without love, so it took me a long time to find my heart at all."

"So you think just because you have a crush on your ranger that he's going to be your true love?" Raina said coldly. Edea knew she was hurting and tried to overlook it, but the hardness of the question made her mad.

"I didn't say he was my true love," Edea replied, "but at least I'm open to it. All mistakes can be mended. I was responsible for Valestis, in spite of what anyone says, but he's back and stronger and so are we for losing him. And now that Tarin has healed his heart, maybe he can show me how he did it."

"But what if he just wants to get his hands on your body and then leave you when he's done?" Raina asked. She seemed to have given this possible relationship between Edea and Tarin a lot of thought and her outcome wasn't very optimistic. "That is what happens with men. That is what happened with my teacher and why I don't see my mother. She left me with him and he threw me out."

Edea stroked the half-elf's long blonde hair. "Rain, she knew you would figure him out and learn for yourself. You are strong. I know you are, even if you don't. You are strong like me, and we don't need anyone else that we don't choose to invite in our lives. I knew you could destroy those monsters and save Duncan, Valestis, and even Tarin. I knew you were waiting for the moment to evolve. You did it then, and I'm doing it now. Your bravery on the wall, and Tarin's bravery in returning to the prince after he was hurt by him, Valestis returning from the dead to settle our minds… everyone has climbed the mountain and you all wait for me at the summit."

Raina hugged her hard around her neck. Edea hugged her back. "I'm not going to make you wait any longer. I'm letting my baggage go, tonight."

"Oh you little thief," Raina said, laughing through her tears. She sat back and sized Edea up. She looked at her fiercely blue eyes, her onyx hair, and her lovely pale skin. She pulled a few strands of hair down over one eye in a seductive manner. "Go steal his heart."

Edea smiled a huge smile, so big it hurt the ends of her mouth. "Do you think I can?" she asked.

"Hell yes," Raina replied. "He's not a man if he doesn't fall for you tonight."

"He's a man." Edea assured her.

"You bet he is," Raina confirmed, "and those rangers make pretty children."

"You bet they do," Edea replied with a touch of her friend's hand. "Beautiful and strong."

"Thanks, bitch," Raina said playfully. Edea got up and straightened out her dress so it hung off of her small, firm curves. Raina spanked her as she walked to the door.

"Go get 'em chick!" she popped off and Edea walked out the door.

------

As Edea walked along the well lit path to Prince Artorious's mansion, she felt light. She was so excited to have Tarin see her as a woman and gauge his reaction. Raina finally giving into her and approving was actually a load off her mind. It was her own anger at her father rather than any objective judgment of Tarin that had her so sour. Tarin was a good man, one who saved lives and was friends with a prince and allies with a paladin. If those weren't solid testimonials to one's character, then none existed. Even if she didn't trust her own feelings, she could trust them.

She got closer to the mansion and saw Duncan and Sivora. They were walking hand-in-hand, and Sivora was in a simple and elegant golden gown. Her red hair was flowing and gorgeous and she absolutely glowed. Edea smiled to herself, having heard the shouting from down the hall at the Halberd. The cleric must have been some lover. He looked the part tonight, dressed in black pants and a scarlet red silk tunic. He even shaved his face and cut his hair down to the length of Prince Artorious's. It was off his shoulders and looked very clean and handsome. They were not the rough and ready fighters/lovers that everyone was accustomed to. Tonight they looked like they should be hosting a Heroes' Dinner instead of the guests of honor.

She kept walking until she got within sight of the door and standing there was a familiar and friendly face. Tia was actually greeting guests at the prince's side. He was smiling and shaking hands and the guests were kissing her on the hand or on both cheeks as was the tradition for the lady of the house. She was dressed in a dress similar to Edea's, but emerald green with her hair tied up in a tight bun on her head. Her large, dark eyes dominated her pretty face and she was stunning. Before Edea would approach, she wanted to wait on Tarin. Maybe he was already inside?

"You lost, darlin'?" a voice said from behind her. She turned to see Raven, not dressed for the occasion but there to see all her "girls" dressed and ready for the ball. "Did you see Sivora? Oh lord, she cleans up almost as well as you."

Edea blushed slightly and gave her a quick hug hello. "Why aren't you going?" Edea asked.

"Not my party, doll baby, it's yours," she replied. "I'm not a part of all this anymore, I need a normal life. You guys are the heroes, the saviors of the world. Go and rub elbows with royalty and richies, you've earned it."

Edea felt very sad for the older woman. "I don't have a date yet, will you come with me?" she offered.

Raven stroked her face lightly. "Aw, thanks doll, but I got one of those already." She turned and behind her was a tall man with a white mane of hair and a scar running down one side of his face. "Say hi to one of my girls."

"Hi there, Edea," Scar said. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"He's been trying to look up my skirt at the Halberd for so long, I figured I'd let him buy me a meal and get it over with!" Raven snorted. She ran a hand through his stiff white hair. It was the first time in several months that Raven had laughed at something she had said.

"Well, I won't say you couldn't do better," Edea replied, "but you don't get back on the horse that bucked you right away."

"I may not as good as I once was, but I'm still a pretty good bucker," Scar boasted, patting Raven on the butt. They were aware that they were the only two people in town at their age unmarried and as yet unwilling. There was nothing but innocent friendship between them, but it was also a friendship that Raven desperately needed… much more than a lover.

"You get your tight little tush in there and wow 'em," Raven commanded. "I'll be by tomorrow to hear all about it."

"Bye Rae," Edea called, using Tia's pet name for her. Raven looked at her with a tear welling up. She smiled a big smile, waved, and turned towards the Halberd with an arm linked with Scar.

"Eyes off, mates, she's mine for the night!" Scar shouted at the top of his lungs.

"What the Hell was that all about?" Raina said, walking up to Edea. She'd changed clothes into a royal blue garment that was the most modest piece of clothing Edea had ever seen her in.

"What's with the bed sheet?" Edea asked. "You spent so much time making me pretty you didn't have anything left in the well?"

"Oh, sod off," Raina scowled. "Try to help a sister out and she gives you shit. I didn't want anyone looking at me when they could be checking you… holy hell, look at Sivora!"

"I know," Edea laughed at the sudden change in subject. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

"That utter bitch!" Raina yelled, drawing stares from the ladies walking by with their husbands. The elf, always aware of her surroundings, threw her head back and yelled, "What the FUCK are you lookin' at?"

"Raina, calm down," Edea said. "You know Valestis will be here, right?"

"Why do you think I'm coming?" she said. "I've seen you already tonight."

"Thanks a lot," Edea said back. "Not like you've ever turned down a free meal."

"Is there any other kind?" Raina sassed back as she threw out her arm for Edea to take. "If that bone-headed tree dweller ain't showing up, I'm taking your fine ass inside, and later, I'll be expecting you to put out."

"You'll have to get me drunk, and you can't hold your wine," Edea said, pushing her arm away.

"Have it your way," the elf replied smugly. She pulled at the tie around her neck and the clasp in her hair at the same time. As she shook out her long, blonde hair into the wind, her cloak dropped to reveal a very tight fitting snow white, linen top with just thin straps over her shoulders. The stretch of the fabric accentuated her breasts perfectly. As the cloak dropped further, Raina's bare midriff was exposed just above her waist and she was wearing pants of the same material that clung to her hips and moved gracefully down her legs with her stride. She walked away from Edea, emphasizing the sway of her behind and catching stares from every man in sight. She was the picture of purity and sin in the same package.

"What a bitch," Edea said to herself, laughing. What a life she had made, with friends, confidents, and perhaps, after tonight, a man. She looked again for Tarin, but after Raina entered, there were not many people left waiting outside. Perhaps he was already inside. She sucked in her air and walked to the door. After a quick greeting from Prince Artorious and a playful wink from Tia and she was inside. Still, the ranger was nowhere to be found. Edea mingled with some of the guests, taking compliments with grace and accepting people's sincere thanks for her efforts on their behalf, but her mind was really on Tarin. Where was he?

The bell rang for dinner and they all made their way to the dining room. It was one of the renovations, twice as big as the one they'd shared months ago on the prince's arrival night. The town was growing in size and sophistication and the regent's mansion was a perfect reflection of that fact. She walked slowly around the table, looking for her name on a place card. Men who had found theirs were hoping that she would settle next to them. She made a complete lap and never found her name. She got hot with discomfort. She knew she was invited, but they overlooked her name! She thought that maybe there was a table for the honored guests, but Duncan, Sivora, Valestis, Raina, and Zander were all seated. Raina looked at her and shrugged her shoulders. She moved like she would get up too and Edea motioned her to sit. As bad as she felt, the show of loyalty made her ease a bit, but she still had no seat!

There was a clear ringing and the prince was tapping a crystal glass with his utensil. Tia was sitting at his right and looking at Edea, realizing the mistake that had been made. Everyone had a seat and began to quiet down, and there she was, the only person standing. She did so with as much control as she could muster, looking regal and refined in her gown. Inside, she was wishing for an alarm to sound so she could go kill something.

"Ladies and gentlemen, before I begin, I've been asked to relay a message to one of our guests," Prince Artorious announced. He moved back his chair and removed an envelope from his plate. It was sealed with wax. He stood and walked over to Edea in the corner. He took her hand with the one that did not hold the envelope.

"This is Lady Edea Randalin. As beautiful and delicate as she appears, she is one of the brave heroes that has fought and bled for your town and my people for these last several months. Her skill is tremendous and wit is sharp. Without her contribution, I do not hesitate to say that we would not be as far as we are in defeating this scourge."

He reached over to kiss her hand and the crowd at the table erupted in applause. Sivora whistled and Raina began to pump her fist in the air. When the sound settled, Artorious continued.

"I am, however, sorry to pass along the news that she will not be joining us tonight as her plans this evening will be taking her elsewhere. I do appreciate that she has graced us with her presence, and join you in bidding her a very good evening." He extended to her the envelope with a smile and bowed slightly. She curtsied back and took the parchment. She didn't understand why he singled her out here instead of saving her the trouble of getting dressed up just to be sent on a mission, but he was the prince and she supposed she must do as he commanded. That must be why Tarin was not here either.

"Thank you all, and I must take my leave," she said quietly. As she turned to leave, the dinner guests again applauded her. She made her way to the front of the mansion and stopped at the door. She looked at the envelope. It was not the prince's seal, it was a different one. This seal had a sword and a dragon that formed the letter M. She tore into it and opened the parchment.

Edea,

I invite you away from the prince's dinner to spend the evening with me. There will be two options at your disposal. First, a horse-drawn carriage is waiting outside the doors to carry you to me and second, a manservant waiting to be told to make you a place at the dinner table to rejoin his Highness and his guests. I understand your confusion and probable anger at me for conspiring behind your back for this proposal. Neither Tia nor the others were aware, so spare them any of your anger. I will greatly anticipate your arrival.

With great apprehension,

Tarin McLeod Blackblade

P.S. - You look beautiful tonight.

"Milady," a voice said next to her. It was George, the prince's house man. "Which will it be?"

"The carriage, please," she said without hesitation.

------

"Honored guests, ladies, and gentlemen," the prince spoke, "welcome to my home and my long deserved tribute to the Heroes of Belfort. I should call them the Heroes of Avalon, for they labor to strike a blow that has haunted not just the lands of my father, but the lands of the continent for a millennium. You have seen them fight overwhelming odds with your own eyes, taking on giants, gnolls, orcs, and the undead with reckless abandon for their own lives. Let me tell you that outside of these walls, their deeds have been tenfold more heroic."

He paused in his speech for applause of which there was a mighty thunder. Many of the people at the table were there when the heroes first were welcomed into the prince's employ. They were dirty and bloody and not much more than mercenaries. The legitimacy of the town had given them genuine fame and respect. Now those same condescending souls fell over themselves to share a moment with any of the warriors they applauded now.

"First is the godson of my father, Dycannus Bane. A faithful healer and Swordarm of Heironeous, he's become the key to stopping this unholy scourge. I am also proud to announce that he has begun two new and rewarding paths of late. One is that of a paladin of Heironeous, like his father, godfather, and our grandfathers before him. It is a call he's longed to hear and without questioning the will of our lord, one that was long overdue. At the first opportunity, my father has asked that he return to Silverbow where he can be knighted in the service of the High King. If that wasn't honorable enough, the other path is that of a husband, as I understand his proposal of marriage to Lady Landrin earlier this evening was met in the affirmative."

Valestis, Raina, and Zander were the only hands not clapping due to their temporary paralysis due to shock. Sivora looked the part of the blushing bride as she stood with Duncan to accept the applause and showed the diamond off to the crowd. She wagged her hand at her peers and they all broke from their silence and began to clap and whoop in celebration. Valestis stood, walked over to his dear friend, and hugged him. Tia jumped up from her seat, ran to the couple, and grabbed Sivora around the neck. The audience laughed and clapped harder at the true loyalty and love that was shared in this tight knit group. As they died down, Artorious's speech continued.

"This proposal is a perfect segue to our next honored guest, the Lady Swordwraith, Sivora Landrin. Although my eyes have not seen such a beautiful warrior, the title of Swordwraith is well deserved. I knew of her reputation long before I knew her personally. Her impression on me was immediate and permanent. Now, not only do I have such a valiant warrior in my employ, but also in my family. Congratulations and welcome, the future Lady Sivora Bane."

Artorious walked from his chair to behind Sivora. He pulled the chair out gently so she could stand, kissed her on both cheeks, and hugged her mightily. "Keep taking good care of him," he whispered in her ear. Sivora let out a happy sob and hugged back.

"This brings me to another valiant soldier, one whose path was not led here by me or my father as we thought, but by the other brave individuals seated here. Sir Valestis comes from across the seas and by his radiant eyes; his line comes from even farther away. His power and strength have proven the tiebreaking factor that has turned the tide in our favor. Leading our two absent heroes, Tarin McLeod Blackblade and Lady Edea, Valestis has already swept several areas of the undead scourge. I hope when our deeds here are complete, he will find me worthy to continue his service to Belois under me."

Valestis gave a slight nod, neither confirming the invitation, nor denying the offer. He knew that since the thoughts and dreams of Rimule had disappeared, that he was doing his lord's will in fighting this battle. When this evil was defeated, he expected the visions to return, and he would have to obey. He smiled at the appreciative crowd and nodded to several of the members. He noticed a furious clapping to his left and met eyes with Raina. When she met his gaze, she reached back to tuck some of her hair behind her pointed ear and winked at him. He smiled back warmly, and moved on to the next pair of eyes, though he wanted to linger a while longer.

"Serving under Dycannus in the battlefield is our brave bard, Tamizander Kerensky," the prince went on. "Tamizander helped us to crack the mystery of Dagoth Ur, and now beats back his minions with song and blade right in the line of fire. Most bards I've known at court are content to sing about heroism, but this one participates. I've not often heard a bard sing of another's exploits, but this one I think I shall hear about. And although I am loathing giving him a big head, I am even proud to call this man 'friend'."

Zander lit up with the praise and knew it would sound wonderful in his latest tune. Tamizander: the bard praised by kings! Well, he was a future king. He stood up to the crowd and took a wide and sweeping bow. He met eyes with Raina, knowing that she would be impressed with him, and caught her still looking at Valestis. She must have been purposefully avoiding his gaze. She was smitten with him for sure! He looked to Tia who was clapping excitedly. She stopped to reach for Prince Artorious's hand as he walked behind her and back to his seat. OK, maybe that one was out of reach now. Well, for now, anyway. When his eyes caught his puppy love librarian, he quickly sat down.

"I will not speak about them without their presence, but Tarin and Edea are also vital to the success of our campaign against these monsters that threaten our world. Tarin has shown remarkable skill in disposing of even the most powerful monsters and Edea dispatches the assassins that are drawn to their bloodshed just as quickly. Although they are unable to attend, they have and will always have my thanks and loyalty."

"I also am sorry to announce that we are without another of our heroes and his wife. Commander Matthias Gold was blessed with a baby boy while he was away and lately, unless it is an affair of penultimate danger or distress, he cannot be torn away from the little man's side! I am sure his wife would have like him to attend to leave her be, but alas my strongest horses were unable to pull him away. I have sent over several portions of food for their enjoyment." Gold would have been proud of the applause he received from his townsfolk, but the prince was right. At the moment, he did not care about anything but his new family and destroying Dagoth Ur.

As the applause died down for a final time, people began to murmur and shuffle their napkins into their laps. Everyone had their moment in the spotlight, save one. Sivora looked over to Raina, who so desperately tried to appear that she didn't need validation, but wanted it so badly. It must have been her new status as a fiancée, but her heart was a little softer now and she hurt for the half-elf. Edea had gotten all the focus earlier in the day and Sivora's own announcement was hard to top, but she was an important member of their team and she needed to know it. Looking at Duncan, she squeezed his hand. He looked back and winked. It seemed now that she couldn't get a step ahead of him.

The ringing of crystal rang out again. The prince was standing still and trying to regain the attention of his guests. Eventually, all eyes returned to their liege.

"I promise that the speeches are drawing to a close, but I would be guilty of a tremendous sin if I was not able to recognize one more hero. This is a hero whose beauty is literally from another world and whose power is growing beyond my own comprehension. I have fought on the fronts and seen magic used in battles, but never have I seen a precise and terrible retribution as the one Raina Jade delivered on our enemies outside these very walls. She saved the lives of not only the guests here tonight, but everyone who calls Belfort home. We are blessed to have such a beautiful and fearsome guardian angel in our midst. Please reward her grace with your appreciation now."

Of all the applause, Raina's was the loudest. The men at the table whooped for her out of lust and the women out of thanks. Tia squealed and Sivora tossed a little bit of bread across the table and into Raina's lap. Duncan clapped vigorously and so did Valestis. Their eyes met again, and this time he winked. Tia was so proud of Arthur's successful evening and dedication to her friends; she grabbed his neck and kissed him several times on his cheek and neck. He smiled and very publicly wrapped an arm around his companion. The half-elf soaked it in, comfortable in the spotlight and just a little sad that Edea hadn't been there. But then again, she was probably on her way into the middle of something far more dangerous.

------

The carriage rolled to a stop and Edea was helped out. In a familiar clearing, Tarin stood in a familiar green shirt and brown pants. The place was a little less sad now that the friend they buried there was up and walking around, but still significant to this pair for another reason. Tarin held out several white roses to her.

"How did you get these, the sun hasn't shone for months?" she asked, taking in the scent.

"When you plan a date with a prince, his merchants can reach to places that still see the sun," Tarin replied. He bowed to kiss her hand. His beard was gone and his hair was washed and pulled back, just like on that day. "You look absolutely beautiful, milady."

"I was wondering why the prince was being so nice," she said, a bit uncomfortable with the lavish compliment. "So you two are good buddies now, huh?"

"Well, it is customary to be respectful to one's liege," Tarin replied, turning away to spread a blanket along the ground. There were several steaming plates resting on tree stumps and makeshift tables along the grove. He must have been here all day preparing. That thought didn't make her miss the oddity in his comment.

"You've never sworn an oath to any man," Edea grunted. "You couldn't."

He turned to look at her. "I have to this man," Tarin replied. They were interrupted by the driver.

"Will that be all for now, Sir Tarin?" he asked. Edea's eyes went wide.

"Yes, thank you," he replied, not breaking Edea's gaze. "Please return at midnight."

"Of course, Sir," he replied, mounted the carriage, and rode away. Edea had not made a sound.

"Sir Tarin?" she asked again, not willing to believe her ears.

"He knighted me in a private ceremony this afternoon," the ranger confessed. "Dycannus and Valestis bore witness. He wanted to give the same honor to the cleric, but his father told him that the honor was to be his and Duncan would be a knight of the High Kingdom."

"Holy shit," she said under her breath. "Who would have thought a scruffy bastard like you…"

"Not me," he agreed, "but things have changed. I've stopped childishly rejecting my heritage. The bard even helped me research my past and both of my fathers. I've worn this ring for years, but never acknowledged the name it bore. Now I've taken it as my own."

"McLeod," she said, remembering the signature. Her blue eyes bore into him, trying to read him. It was impossible. He was so different than the man she knew at this site so long ago, the site where she first kissed him.

"Shall we dine and talk?" Tarin offered, making a gesture to the picnic setting behind him. His step away was far enough for him to look back and take in the entire scope of her form. Her dress glistened in the light and her jet black hair shone as well. Her eyes were as clear blue as any enchanted pool he'd drunk from and her skin was so perfectly flawless that it begged to be caressed.

She let him look over her and felt warm under his gaze. If he was now committed to something greater than his own fame and fortune, then she would soon lose him. Or maybe she would follow him down that path, she didn’t know. What she did know is that this night was before her and it was perfect. He reached out a hand for her to follow him to the picnic, but instead she stepped inside of his arms and kissed him again, at the same spot where she had over a year ago. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed back deeply. They stood joined for several moments, breathing at once and feeling each other's bodies close. She drew back and pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders. With a few tugs, she stood before him, naked, for the first time. He reached out, putting a hand behind her neck, and pulled her body to him. His rough hands rubbed her skin in every possible place. She untied his pants and pulled his shirt off over his head. Minutes later, they were on the ground in an embrace, consummating the night in the only way that was appropriate, with unbridled passion.

He rolled them up in the blanket and lay under the night sky with her small frame wrapped tightly up in his arms. Her head lay on his chest, listening to his quickened heartbeat. He listened to the rustle of leaves and her soft, nearly inaudible breaths. He felt her lungs expand; pushing her small breasts into his side and then retreating back as he exhaled. He longed for her to take another breath. They lay for an hour like that, quietly etching the memory into their minds of their night, the way they had not with their first kiss. Both were so caught off guard, they could not remember the embrace, only that it had happened. Both were unwilling to allow that to happen again.

Eventually, they spoke, although who broke the silence first wasn't important. They shared their lives, fears, and hopes like they'd shared their bodies and were the only two souls in the world that knew each other completely. In an hour, it would all be over and they would return back to the city where their charade would continue. Raina may read it on her face, but she would keep it a secret if Edea asked it of her. Tarin's features gave nothing away. Perhaps it would be a poorly kept secret like Duncan and Sivora, or tightly kept like her feelings up until this point, but regardless, the memory of this night would be the lynchpin in any future they would have together. It may have been a perfect start for a possibly perfect life.

They made love twice more, completely neglecting the food and wine. When the carriage approached, they reluctantly dressed each other under the cover of the grove. The servant cleaned the area well and they shared one last kiss under the darkness and emerged to return to Belfort. He held out a hand for her to take and climb into the back.

"After you, Lady Edea," he offered.

"Thank you, Sir Tarin," she replied.

"I trust you enjoyed the evening, Madame?" the servant asked rhetorically.

Her eyes were on Tarin. "It was the most perfect evening of my life," she said.

He climbed into the back with her and sat by her side. As they rode for the half hour back to town, Tarin fell asleep in the plush chariot. Edea laid her head on his chest once more, listening to his now calm and steady heartbeat. She smelled her flowers repeatedly, never letting her head lose contact with his heart. When the carriage stopped, Tarin awoke. He smiled slowly at Edea, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes.

"I'm sorr…," she stopped him with a finger to his lips. He took in a deep breath and opened the door. The prince's party was just breaking up. Most of the guests had gone, but Duncan and Sivora were still there showing off her ring and telling their story for the fiftieth time. When Tarin and Edea walked in, they were greeted by a very cheerful and tipsy elf.

"What's happening guys!" Raina exclaimed. She whispered to Edea. "The prince told us of his plan; I was hoping he didn't come back with dagger holes in him!"

"I took Raven's advice and left them at home," Edea admitted. Raina took a deep look at her friend. Then she very exaggeratedly smelled her neck, ear and hair. Edea bit her lip in fear of what was to come out next. There was no place in the forest to wash and the elf's senses were acute enough to smell Tarin's scent on her. She tried to catch a hint of the elf's intentions, but she broke her grip and walked through them over to the fire.

"What did you smell Raina?" Zander asked loudly, "could it be love is in the air?"

"Nope," Raina replied holding up one of the white roses that Edea had been holding. "It must have been the flowers."

You dreamed that a tall figure with a golden mask spoke to you, but you understood not a word. He smiled, and seemed pleasant, but when he reached to touch you, it terrified you, and you tried to escape, but you couldn't move. You tried to cry out, but you couldn't make a sound. The figure kept smiling and talking, but you felt sure he was trying to cast some sort of spell on you. When you woke, you couldn't recall how the dream ended. You dreamed of a tall figure in a golden mask. He was arguing with something, but you could not tell what or who. His fists pounded against unseen things and his words carried venom, though you did not know their meaning. He moved in frenzied action until he was but a blur of motion, his golden mask a streak of light. Then, another voice entered your head and whispered "I am the Kwisatz Haderach. The sleeper must awaken." The figure in the golden mask appeared again and walked toward you, but you awoke before he reached you. 1992.x Just Call Me Sir

“What do we do?” The soldier was frightened. He was new to battle, and these strange undead were enough to frighten most people out of their wits. Most, but not all. There are those who shrug off fear like one shrugs off a cloak.

“We ride!” The newly knighted Valestis Medeva was one of those men.

He and his celestial steed galloped up to what was left of the cavalry. They had been decimated only hours ago by scores of undead and their commander had been killed. Had it not been for Sir Valestis rallying the troops and his personal heroics, the unit would likely be entirely gone.

“What!?” The soldier was shocked. “We will not survive a pass”.

“Not a pass, son” even though he wasn’t much older than most of the soldiers, he referred to the younger ones as ‘son’. “A charge. A full charge. Right through their ranks.”

He looked around at the two dozen horsemen who now surrounded him. He saw no fear in their eyes anymore since he was near, but the air was heavy with doubt.

“Sir” another spoke. He was now the resident veteran. “A charge through the ranks would lead to death for us all. Do you have a death wish? Do you want to die?”

Valestis steadied his mount. He tore his helmet from head. His white eyes pierced the darkness of the night sky. Gasps came from some of the men who had yet to actually see his face.

“Look behind you!” He bellowed. They could see the fires in the town of Shilinth behind them in the valley.

“They say they prepare for war!” Valestis looked each man in the eye. “But they do not. They prepare for death, and they know it.” The eyes of the men darted between the city and Valestis.

“We know that they cannot stand against these undead! Worse yet, they will join our enemy’s ranks when the battle is over! How many can they defeat? How many can we defeat for them?”

He broke through the ring of troops around him and rode a few yards closer to the undead. “How many?” He was yelling now. It was something he had not done in a long time.

The veteran soldier spoke up again. “But sir, there are too many. There is no hope” he pleaded.

Sir Valestis rode up to the man and said loudly enough for all to hear easily. “Sergeant, there is always hope. Always. And today we give that hope to Shilinth! I do not have a death wish sergeant. For these creatures, I am death. Death eternal. And I certainly do not wish to die. Not anymore…not again… And I did not come all the way back here to fucking do so now!”

His mount was now ancy and he himself was at an uncharacteristic fever pitch. The presence of the undead gnawed at his soul. He could feel them and it hurt. He trotted around the men for a few seconds, looking each in the eye again.

“NOW! Ride with me! Into the enemy, that we may tear through them like tissue paper!”

The men were at a fever pitch and their energy was palpable.

The sergeant spoke again. “Ride? For death and glory?” He questioned.

Valestis stared at the man. “There is no glory in death sergeant.” He chided the man and then smiled at him. “There is however, glory in how you spend the moments preceding it.” His mount Aerie whinnied and reared. Valestis took his holy symbol from around his neck and brandished his sword.

He shoved his helmet back on and lifted its large visor. Smiling, he asked but a simple question. “Shall we?” Then he charged toward the zombies. The men were dazed for a second and then headed out after him in full charge.

He arrived at the front line of zombies well before the other riders. He raised his holy symbol and shouted at the top of his lungs “In the name of Kelemvor, I command you back to hell!”

The weakest of the zombies burst into flames and some were turned, but there were undead more powerful than he could command. Again, he felt their presence around him. The only way to lessen the pain was to end them, so he began with the closest ones.

Just less than twenty horsemen rode towards Shilinth. They lost a few of their number in their final ride against the undead army, but very few. The town was safe. Until the next attack at least.

The young soldier approached the knight as they rode. “Captain” he said trying to get his attention.

Valestis did not look at the man, knowing him by his squeaky voice alone. “I’m not a captain, son. I don’t have a rank.”

The young soldier was puzzled. “Well, then how do I address you?”

Valestis turned to look at him. “Well, if you must use a title, then…just call me sir”. 1992.xx.xx

Showtime

There was a discernable air of anticipation in the Bronze Halberd, at least from the majority of its patrons. The resident entertainer/adventurer, Tamizander Kerenksy, or the Incomparable Tamizander, or Tamizander the Great or Brave or whatever he called himself on a particular day, was taking the stage tonight. He had been scarce on the stage as of late while he had been helping the prince and his scholar’s research current events and their ties to history. Then, he offered to join his hero acquaintances in their quest. On the surface, it was a noble and just pursuit. The heroes of Belfort were doing their part to save the world. Someone had to, and apparently, one of them was the chosen one. Zander was glad that it wasn’t him, though. He didn’t mind being part of the gang, but he thought pressure of being The One might be a bit too much, even for him.

Being a hero, even part-time, has its advantages though and that’s why Zander cast his lot in with his friends. The quickest way to wealth and fame was being an adventurer…well, a surviving adventurer anyway. His companions were quite well versed in the arts of war and he supplemented them with his bolstering musical abilities. Thus far, they had been wildly successful, but the dangers had increased and the saviors decided to take some time off.

It was during this period that the prince announced that he would hold a celebration dinner for the city’s heroes. That was last night and a celebration it was. The food was rich and succulent. The wine was exquisitely elven and the women…well the women were nothing less than the visions of angels. Zander had his sights on various pictures of femininity. The rogue Edea was startlingly lovely. Her dress and natural features contrasted one another superbly. He assumed that Edea and the newly knighted ranger were an exclusive item, but he would keep laying the groundwork for himself, just in case. The warrior Sivora looked delicious, plain and simple. She was a bit larger than he preferred and certainly not as demur as he liked, but powerful women were extremely sexy. She knew what she wanted and went after it. He could imagine her taking him and he rather liked the idea. The bard also marveled at her flowing mane of scarlet. Her curly locks would look wonderful draped across his chest. Of course, she was now promised to their cleric friend, who had apparently become a paladin now as well. She might be out of the picture, but there was always the possibility that being the chosen one would be too much and the new paladin might not survive their adventures. This was unlikely, but Zander knew never to close any doors. You never knew when you might be invited inside.

Another door he kept an eye on was Tiara, or Tia as most called her. She was with the celestial before he was taken and afterward, Zander thought he had a shot at her, but she didn’t really give others a chance in that time period. That is, until she met the prince. Now, she was with royalty and he would have to bide his time. Maybe the prince would tire of her or his parents would refuse their union, who knew. There was the barmaid, Raven. Sure, she was ten years his elder, but she had a body built for boffing and he was certain that she knew what she was doing. He had aimed his sights at those two earlier, but he had been distracted.

His distraction had come in the form of a goddess on earth, the half-elf temptress Raina. Even considering the women he had known intimately that shared her elven heritage, she was the most incredible specimen of woman he had ever laid his eyes on! She had everything he liked in a woman; beautiful face, long hair, ample breasts, a firm backside, flawless skin, and a devilishly enchanting smile. Wait, she had everything he liked in a woman save one thing…him. He knew her kind, though. They passed from man to man and from bed to bed. Hmmm…come to think of it though, he had never heard anyone triumph at having her. Maybe she bought their silence or used her sorcery to control them; he didn’t know, but he sure as hell would like to find out! She was another who might be out of reach for the time being. Lately, he noticed her eyes on the aasimar and his attempts to divert her attention only ended up with him receiving her venom, or more often, no reply at all. Apparently, she knew his type as well. Most of the time he could win over any creature with his looks, manners, and charm, but his paladin friend possessed his own set of skills and his heavenly ancestry made him a worthy adversary indeed.

Since all of the women around him were seemingly taken, or at least occupied for the time being, he had begun dividing his attention to other deserving members of the fairer sex. He picked an easy target in a comely young bookworm he had been working with and had introduced her to the pleasures he could offer her. It was an old tried and true method and she fell for him with no resistance. Unfortunately, he had been planning things with the wrong organ and had miscalculated. Nancy didn’t go away. Sure, he had been with a few others that she didn’t know about since then, but she was more often than not his shadow. Nancy was fascinated by him and he would have normally left town by now, but he was kind of stuck. He had work here and really didn’t fancy the idea of traveling alone in these times. As much he hated to admit it, he had friends in town and he enjoyed their company and protection. His warrior friends would help him solidify his fame. The prince had called him a friend last night. The prince! Devils and demons couldn’t drag him away from Belfort now.

He would be remembered for saving the world! First, then he would be remembered as the greatest bard to walk Avalon! He really couldn’t think of any causes worth risking his life for, but if there was no audience to adore him, then he wouldn’t be remembered at all. Heroes are rich and famous, and that’s what he was in it for. Yes, he was in it for the women and the gold. He was going to do his best to increase his share of both of those factors tonight.

This evening’s show would be the most personal he’d ever done. Tonight, he would show the crowd that he was more than just a mere bard. He was The Incomparable Tamizander; musician, songwriter, and innovator! In addition to researching the history of these undead uprisings, he had also begun a secret project. He had researched various musical instrument designs and spent a good deal of time actually learning about how sound traveled. Nancy had been instrumental, so to speak, in aiding him. She had really done all of the math and some of the design work as well for his new instrument. He had been practicing with it feverishly, learning all of the nuances it had to offer. His original plan was to unveil it at the hero dinner last night, but the spotlight was on everyone that night. Tonight, it would only be on him and him alone.

He was dressed in a tamer outfit that was not near as flashy as he normally wore, but was more comfortable and still fit his form well. He wasn’t planning on staying seated throughout the show, so he opted for something more flexible. This getup was much easier to clean as well. Tonight, he would introduce the world to his invention. Tonight, he would sing songs that he himself wrote. Tonight, he would give them a show the likes of which only gods had ever seen.

Shortly after arriving, Zander rearranged the stage a bit. He removed the chair he normally sat in and replaced it with a stool. He purchased three bottles of everyday wine. He usually drank when he played these days, but only just a bottle and a few other drinks. He knew that tonight would be a longer night and he was also a little nervous. For the first time in years, he felt his stomach flutter. If he flopped tonight, it would be because of his instrument and his songs, not someone else’s. He didn’t get elven wine, though. You couldn’t just down that stuff to drink something and even he would have trouble with that wine walking, let alone singing and playing a new instrument!

The crowd was growing still and they murmured as they stared and pointed at the strangely shaped blood red instrument case in the middle of the stage a few feet from the stool. It was much larger than a mandolin or small lute case, and was shaped much differently than a large lute case. Sensing the crowd’s curiosity building, Zander stepped to the case and knelt before it, facing the crowd with it between them. Slowly and dramatically, he opened the latches and lifted the lid. In the audience, necks craned and heads lifted and tilted; some patrons even rose from their chairs in order to get a better view of the contents.

Zander looked up to see their faces and smiled when he saw the people already enraptured. Even his friends at the front table were looking on with more interest than normal. They knew he was up to something. Had Nancy told them? She was seated at the table with them off to his left a few seats. Nancy had protested at first when he asked if she would sit in the front somewhere. She was still shy until they were in bed and even more so in public. He wanted her in front for a few reasons, the utmost of which was that should anything go wrong with the new instrument; she could either repair this one or fetch the other one while he controlled the crowd. He also wanted her to get caught up in the mood so that she might be a little more susceptible to any suggestion that he might make after the show about adding someone to their late night activities. If there were any takers, he felt pretty good of his chances of hooking that up. Nancy was going to be around for the time being and he might as well make the most of it before he moved on.

Playing up to the crowd’s anticipation, he stood up after opening the case and stretched his arms out wide like wings, pretending to loosen himself up. Then he shook and flexed his fingers and hands. He moved his neck back and forth, making it crack and pop a few times in the process. He turned away from the crowd and repeated the maneuvers. He wanted the tension to build a little more, so he turned around again and looked back down into the case. He bent over it and pulled out a small metal object shaped like a triangle with all corners rounded off. It was only an inch or so in size and he had at least a dozen of them in his case. The highly polished metal caught the Halberd’s lanterns and sent shards of light dancing through the room. He called it a pick used it to play with instead of his fingers. The new instrument’s strings were thicker and had to be tauter than any other string instrument he had ever played and these handy items kept his tender fingertips from getting beat up. He took out a few of the picks and placed them on the floor on the opposite side of the stool as his wine.

Of course, he thought! The wine! He uncorked a bottle and poured half a glass, swirling it and breathing its flowery aroma. Drinking this while he got ready would kill more time and let the anticipation build more. After taking in a few mouthfuls, he set the glass down. Peering into the case again, he next lifted out a small metal cylinder. It shone just as brightly as the picks, but was big enough to fit over most of his middle finger. He called it a slide and there were grooves etched into the underside which he would use to run over the strings as he played and create a unique and decidedly different sound for dramatic effect. He was only planning on using it for one song, but the effect would be unforgettable.

After setting the slide next to the picks, Zander lazily picked up his wine glass again. He lifted his bottom up to the stool and slowly eased onto it. He sat looking into the case gradually finished his wine. It was almost time. He set the glass down and then knelt before the case again, positioning it between him and his audience. He looked up to see Nancy smiling at him, her face beaming with pride. Unless she had spilt the beans about their project, she was the only other person who knew what he would pull out of the case. He felt a tinge of guilt for what he had made her do to name their invention. He had opted for ‘The Zander’, but she had another idea. Suffice it to say that Nancy was no longer a virgin of any kind. Fortunately, she wasn’t walking funny and giving it away, not that he would really be bothered if everyone figured it out. He glanced up at her again and wondered if she was proud of their creation or just of him. The possible answer to that question gave him the chills and he shuddered for a moment before shaking off the Closter phobic feeling.

He appraised the crowd. Their eyes were wide and there was a tangible energy in the air. They were ready and because they were ready, so was he. Finally, he reached down into his crimson case and pulled it out. It was indeed the size of a large lute, but the body was much bigger and the neck wasn’t quite as long. Its body was somewhat of an ‘8’ shape. Unlike a mandolin or a lute, the curvature of its underside was barely noticeable. In the front, six strings ran its length and passed over a circular opening, just like a mandolin or a lute or similar instrument, and it was hollow as well inside.

He looped the strap over his head onto his shoulder. He slid his opposite arm through the opening as well and let the instrument hang in front of him as he adjusted its position. Once he got it situated, he took hold of the neck and bent over to take one of his picks in his hand. He stuck a few of them in the strings at the neck in case he needed to grab another quickly. He was dragging this along for as long as he thought he could get away with, soaking in the stares and chatters of the crowd. He could hear them ask ‘What in the world is that thing?’ and ‘I’ve never seen one like it before’ and ‘Isn’t it shaped funny?’ The way they were pointing and staring and awed at ‘it’, he checked that his pants were on right just to be sure everyone was referring to the instrument. He had them already and he hadn’t even opened his mouth yet. The smile that emerged on his face was unstoppable. He settled into his stool and readjusted the instrument to rest on his knees.

Without looking up at the crowd, he lightly ran the pick over the strings and a chorus of notes echoed in the relative calm of the Halberd’s interior. He kept his head down and tuned the device by loosening and tightening the end of the strings at the neck. He flicked a string and adjusted its tension until he was happy with its tone. He played a few notes and smiled in pure self satisfaction. It sounded fantastic! The sound was richer, fuller, and crisper than any other similar string instrument he or any of the patrons here had ever heard. He heard Nancy’s squeal of glee. He played a few bars and then thumped the hollow body with the knuckle of his thumb. It sounded just as it had when he practiced. The thumping resonated very well and could simulate a beat if he needed it or really just grab the crowd’s attention, which was the whole point.

Zander finally raised his head and set his gaze on the crowd. He was smiling widely, even for him. It was time… showtime. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” he began. “The Incomparable Tamizander offers you greetings and salutations from the belly of the Bronze Halberd!” Cheers and hoots greeted him. “I bid you: pull up a chair, grab a glass or two or a dozen, locate someone to receive your lust and enjoy!” The crowd cheered again. Zander played a few bars again and kept playing as he asked “Whadya say we get this party started, huh?” Again, hoots, whistles, and hollers were his response. The crowd was eager and he would reward them for their enthusiasm. He tapped his foot on the ground, thumped the instrument a few times to announce the beat, and then started a tune they were all familiar with. He purposely avoided bringing direct attention to the instrument before they had a taste of its capabilities. The more mystery that surrounded it, the more weight the actual unveiling would hold. “How about one of my personal faves to start us off?” His question was rhetorical; he had already started the tune.

He built up the beginning of the song. His new instrument had two additional strings and could therefore create notes not possible before. The effect of hearing a familiar song in an unfamiliar, but much better way would affect the crowd immediately and that’s what he wanted. When it came time, he jumped into the vocal parts of ‘The Ballad of William Wallace’. It was the song that had gotten his career started and it was only fitting that it be the first the public would hear tonight. The song would be a perfect barometer for his new toy. It had slower parts where there need not be much in the way of anything save his voice and up tempo crescendos as well. The instrument hit each note perfectly and his fingers wore out a path over the notes hit more often. It sounded so well that it almost overshadowed his voice! When the song ended, he went right into another one the crowd would know without missing a beat. It was a lively tune called ‘All the King’s Men’ about their resident prince and his Knights of the Round Table. He didn’t skip a beat between the two songs and prolonged the second one’s opening notes for as long as the crowd cheered for the first one.

Again, the performance was nothing short of stellar. Every face in the crowd held its gaze on him. There was also a shuffling from outside as townsfolk had begun standing in the open-air part of the Halberd underneath the overhanging tarp. They were attempting to place orders with Raven and her fellow barmaids when they passed by. A few had just begun heading to the bar to order and then moving wherever there was room. The sound of his invention carried much further than his lute and the effect was obvious.

After finishing the song, he stopped playing completely and took a large swig of wine from the open bottle. Tonight was already better than he hoped; he just hoped it continued. Applause and more vocal adulation filled the Halberd and also spilled in from. Zander gracefully bowed his head and waved to the audience in appreciation. Folks were already putting coins in his bowl. He got paid by the Halberd, but there was always very good money to be made by the patrons within. His smile was dazzling and genuine. He loved this and wallowed in it for a few moments, drinking some more wine while the din died down.

Now was the perfect time to officially introduce his wonderful creation. Once it was quiet enough, he spoke. “I suppose you’re all wondering what this is?” He held the instrument up and the crowd replied with thunderous clapping and yelling. Well, this is a little creation of mine. I call it ‘The Zander’!” Everyone in the audience except for Nancy who looked up at him in a manner in which Edea normally would. Zander laughed heartily and when the crowd calmed down again he announced “No, folks, it goes by another name, actually, though I’m still partial to that one.” Nancy’s face relaxed and her smile came back.

“My mother once told me… well, okay, she wasn’t my mother, she was someone else’s mother, but she once old me ‘Tamizander, lad, always give credit where credit is due,’ to which I replied ‘Bullocks!’.” The crowd laughed at his joke. He had more than one way to entertain them and he used them all. “That remark earned me a spanking…that I didn’t have to pay for!” The crowd laughed harder at the true joke. Even his do-gooder friends laughed at that one. “It is in honor of that fine, fine lady that for quite possibly the first time in my life, I will actually do just that. I would like to take a moment to recognize the chief and only engineer for my project…” he looked squarely at Nancy, held an outstretched arm in her direction, and then continued “Nancy, doll, stand up and take a bow.” She hesitated until the occupants of her table convinced her to stand. He face was red and she was terribly embarrassed. The applause and cat calls she received were also slowly bringing her to the edge of tears. Zander knew that this public attention and association with him would buy him leeway should any of his transgressions ever come to light. “She thinks her name is better, and her arguments were rather…” he paused a moment and winked at her before finishing the last word slowly “persuasive”. Nancy, already embarrassed, put her face in her hands and gently shook her head as she sat down quickly. The crowd continued their cat calls, but there was some tittering and ‘ooooohs’ sprinkled in as well. Zander put the attention back on the instrument. “She calls it the guitar, and since she won the naming rights, that’s what we’ll call it too”.

“Now we are going to change gears a little. I’ve got some original songs I’d like to play tonight as well. The first one is about a friend of mine. It’s called ‘We Are the Waiting.” This was true. The song was roughly based on Valestis. Zander had gotten a few details from Tia some months ago about what brought him to Avalon. He was gonna do a song about him, cuz everyone likes a ballad about a fallen hero, and since his return, he changed it up a bit. It had more of a somber melody and he had to wait until the crowd was already well into the session to delve into it. He started the slow and low-key melody. It was eerily moody and easily lowered the level of background noise in the room. The tune was sorrowful, but it picked up in places and as well. Having everyone’s full attention, especially the front table’s, he began singing. Cloudy nights City lights Coming down over me Lost loved ones And friends long gone In my head

Are we we are, are we we are The waiting unknown

I saw a town Burning down In my dreams Lost and found City bound In my dreams

At the mention of this, Valestis’s eyes widen and Duncan shot him a quick look, but let it linger once he caught his fellow paladin’s eyes. The song must be about him. How could Zander know about that? Others at the table looked around and eventually focused on the aasimar as well. The bard continued the song through the eyes darting about, his was voice emphatic, but gentle and with a tinge of sorrow. He reached the chorus and his voice changed, the first line he almost screamed and the others we much louder, almost as if he weren’t the only one singing.

And screaming Are we we are, are we we are The waiting And screaming Are we we are, are we we are The waiting

Forget me nots And second thoughts Live in isolation Heads or tails And fairytales In my mind

Are we we are, are we we are The waiting unknown

The rage and love, The story of My life The rage and love, The stories of Our lives

And screaming Are we we are, are we we are The waiting And screaming Are we we are, are we we are The waiting unknown Are we we are, are we we are The waiting And screaming Are we we are, are we we are The waiting unknown Are we we are, are we we are The waiting unknown

By the end of the song, the front table had returned their attention to the bard, but their reaction toward him was not their usual one. They all looked at him in a slightly different light. Had he really written a song about one of their own? Was it Valestis? Only a few knew of the dream that led him to Avalon, but any other part of the song could have fit most, if not all of them. Perhaps that was the intent.

The mood of the room had been so affected that there were just voices here and there. Zander had succeeded in completely altering the mood. Now, he would capitalize on it and take them on a journey they would never forget, even if they passed out drunk later on. The next song stayed in a similar vein. “Now, this one is about some recent event’s we’re all too familiar with. It’s called ‘Wake Me Up When September Ends’. I hope you like this one as well.” The tune was again slower-paced and not lively, but not spilling over with sadness either. It simply promoted reflection, but that often has a tendency towards the sad. This one stemmed from a rare moment of clarity Zander had after the lich battle. He had been diseased and hurt badly by the fireball before healing himself. It was a few days later that Nancy had expressed her concern and it really dawned on him that seeking his fame and fortune might actually get him killed. It was a brief moment, but it spawned a great song nonetheless.

Has summer come and passed? How can innocence last? Wake me up when September ends Like our fathers come to pass All these years have gone so fast Wake me up when September ends

Here comes the rain again Falling from the stars Drenched in our pain again Becoming who we are As our memories rest But never forget what we lost Wake me up when September ends

Has summer come and passed? How can innocence last? Wake me up when September ends

Ring out the bells again Like we did when spring began Wake me up when September ends

Here comes the rain again Falling from the stars Drenched in our pain again Becoming who we are As our memories rest But never forget what we lost Wake me up when September ends

Here, he played his guitar for an extended period of time. He knew he would be singing a lot and had interjected parts where he would only play in the song. He called these solos. He would play something in line with the song, but not necessarily the tune itself. Of course, he didn’t want o confuse anyone by introducing that right away, or in a song they already knew. Once he played for a minute or so longer than normal, he picked up the final chorus.

Has summer come and passed? How can innocence last? Wake me up when September ends Like my fathers come to pass Twenty years have gone so fast Wake me up when September ends Wake me up when September ends Wake me up when September ends

The crowd knew what his song was about. Everyone’s life had changed when the ash undead attacks began. No one was unaffected and here he was, one of their heroes, spilling out his heart and soul and fears. Would they see summer again, or even the sun for that matter? Everyone longed for the time before these and it would be nice if they could just wake up when it was all over. Zander took a large swig of wine, finishing off the first bottle. The alcohol flowed freely and heavily now in the Halberd as well and it was time for another mood swing. Standing up, he broke the general silence. “Glad ya liked that one.” He said even though there was no applause, only nods and sniffles. The crowd was focused on one another. Now it was time for Zander to be the focal point again. He picked up his slide from the floor and put it in a chest pocket. “How about we change things up a bit?” he smiled as he asked in a cheerful voice. This next song was his favorite! The tune was upbeat and he was standing up tapping one foot to ground. He played for almost a minute, reviving the energy of the patrons. He was gonna wow them with this one. “Folks, this one’s called ‘A Devil Came Down to Belfort’ and stars yours truly!’” He let out a celebratory shout and picked up the pace. He spoke more than sang the words in between the series of notes.

A Devil came down to Belfort, he was looking for a soul to steal.

He began making his way into the crowd, which he had never done before. He got strange looks, but a lot more smiles. He never stopped the song as he walked around.

He was in a bind, 'cause he was way behind, he was willing to make a deal. When he came across a young man strumming on a guitar and playing it hot. And that Devil jumped up on a hickory stump and said, "Boy let me tell you what: I guess you didn't know it, but I'm a guitar slinger too,

He acted out the part of the devil, making gestures as he used his voice solely in between the notes.

And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you. Now you play a pretty good music, boy, but give a Devil his due. I bet a chest of gold against your soul 'cause I think I'm better than you."

Zander paused here and played more than the length he had up until then. The crowd was eating up him walking around amongst them and the ones amassed outside could get a much better view as well. Women were patting him and grabbing him here and there and he liked it, even the ugly ones.

The boy said, "My name's Zander and it might be a sin, But I'll take your bet, you're gonna regret, 'cause I'm the best there's ever been."

He sang this part with much force as the tempo changed. His voice stayed tight and melodic, but there was definite emphasis made here.

Zander, tighten up your strings and play that guitar hard, 'Cause hell's broke loose in Belfort and that Devil deals the cards And if you win you'll get this shiny lockbox full o’ gold, But if you lose, that Devil gets your soul!

Here he broke out into another solo. Amongst the crowd, he could really get a feel for what they thought of his invention. While he played this part, rhythmic clapping spontaneously erupted and various vocal forms of encouragement sounded also. He finished the solo and let the guitar slack in front of him. He took a pick from the end of the guitar and tossed it to a comely lass with a wink. He began again with the speaking style, pulling the slide from his pocket and placing it on his finger as he did so.

That Devil opened up his case and he said, "I'll start this show." And fire blew from his fingertips as he got rarin' to go. He pulled a claw across the strings and it made an evil hiss. Then a band of demons joined in, and it sounded something like this.

Zander played a few bars of the tune normally, and then used the slide to distort the sound and make it undeniably disconcerting and uncomfortable, but not disharmonic or harsh. He played this way long enough to see some patrons squirm in discomfort, and then he stopped and continued, placing the slide back into his shirt pocket.

When that Devil finished, Zander said, "Well you're pretty good old son. But sit down in that chair right there and let me show you how it's done!"

Now he fired it up full force, with everything he could muster. The pace was fast and furious and his song voice had to keep up.

Fire on the Mountain, run, boys, run. That Devil's in the house of the risin' sun. We got a posse kickin' tail, Sendin' those bastards back to hell!

After a few additional notes, he sang-spoke again, smiling and nodding to the crowd as he did so. They were wearing smiles and downing their drinks with more gusto than usual.

That Devil bowed his head cause' he knew that he'd been beat. And he laid that golden treasure on the ground at Zander's feet. Zander said, "Devil, just come on back If you ever want to try again, I done told you once, you son of a bitch I'm the best there's ever been.

At the end of this part, he raised his arm and crossed the other over it in the typical ‘Up Yours’ motion without raising a finger. The crowd roared and he picked up his chorus again.

Fire on the Mountain, run, boys, run. That Devil's in the house of the risin' sun. We got a posse kickin' tail, Sendin' those bastards back to hell!

He was sweating when the song was done, and breathing a little more heavily than normal as well. Lost in the hubbub was Nancy, patrolling the crowd with Zander’s tips bowl in her hand. Surprised, he smiled and winked at her. He might have to keep her around for a while longer after all. Why he hadn’t thought of that was beyond him. It was pure genius! He meandered through the crowd asking for requests to give him a break and to give Nancy plenty of time to make rounds through the crowd. Even men were plopping coins in. Apparently, they weren’t immune to feminine charms, shy or not. He waited for Nancy to make her way back to the stage and place bowl back down before he went back to it himself.

He sang a few requested songs, ones that the crowd knew well, though they sounded different with his guitar. After half a dozen or so of those songs, he settled back into the stool in order to settle things down a bit. “Here’s another of mine,” announced the bard. “It’s about a girl I once knew. You might have known a similar one. It’s a sadder love song, but most are aren’t they? It’s called Cairfawn Sky.” For this song, his voice was soft, but forceful and the melody he played was nothing less than enchanting.

They say time goes by so fast But time, she's too slow for me I didn't take time to stop and see How you started to set me free

All I remember is the rain on New Year's Day And all those promises we made That was the last time I saw your face Now you're gone away Gone away

I remember when we held each other Under that Cairfawn sky we lay down below When you said goodbye, I can still see those tears in your eyes As I left you under that Cairfawn sky

Sometimes I think I see you once again Sometimes I hear your voice in the wind Sometimes I believe still loving you is a sin I guess we'll never know until love begins Love begins

I remember when we held each other Under that Cairfawn sky we lay down below When you said goodbye, I can still see those tears in your eyes As I left you under that Cairfawn sky

I remember when we held each other Under that Cairfawn sky we lay down below When you said goodbye, I can still see those tears in your eyes As I left you under that Cairfawn sky

“Now,” he began, introducing the next song, “this is a different kind of love song. This is also about a girl or girls I knew or still know…it’s called ‘Rebel Yell’.” He stood up for this one. It was a little more raucous and he might want to wander around again. His tips bowl had spilled over, so he dumped it into the case before he got started. His voice for this song was loud and much tougher than he normally spoke. It was more rugged and forceful, almost guttural.

Last night a little dancer, came dancing to my door Last night my little angel, came pumping on the floor She said 'Come on baby, I've got a license for love and if it expires, pray help from above, because

In the midnight hour, she cried more, more, more With a rebel yell she cried more, more, more In the midnight hour babe more, more, more With a rebel yell more, more, more, more, more, more, more

She don't like slavery, she won't sit and beg but when I'm tired and lonely she sees me to bed What set you free and brought you to me, babe What set you free, I need you here by me, because

In the midnight hour, she cried more, more, more With a rebel yell she cried more, more, more In the midnight hour babe more, more, more With a rebel yell more, more, more

Here he broke into another of his solos to rest his voice. He was getting tired, but the night was winding down. He had one more song planned after this and then he would see about winding the rest of the night up.

I walked the world, to you, babe A thousand miles, to you I dried your tears, of pain A million times, for you

I'd sell my soul, for you, babe For gold to burn, for you I'd give you all, and have none, babe Just to, just to, just to, just to, to have you here by me, because

In the midnight hour, she cried more, more, more With a rebel yell she cried more, more, more In the midnight hour babe more, more, more With a rebel yell she cried more, more, more, more, more, more

Oh yeah, my little baby She want more, more, more, more, more, more Oh yeah, my little angel She want more, more, more, more, more, more

He finished with a flurry to rousing cheers again. It was time for the last song. He tossed a couple of picks out into the crowd. His hair was soaked with sweat now and it rained upon the floor when he shook his head vigorously. “Alright! Let’s finish this on a good note here! This last song’s another one of mine. It’s about a soldier and his girl I overheard talk about in the market this week. The names have been change to protect the innocent,” he joked. This song required a jaunt through the crowd, so he got up and moved closer to the opening where the patrons outside gathered. He began the first chords of the song. “This one’s called ‘Come Back to Belfort’!”

She said, she needed a break A little time to think But then she went to Pirgos With some guy named Duros That she met at the bank

There's nothing wrong with Pirgos Except the Traffic and rain I really like Big Sonny And I'd love to see those crazy brothers again

So when you're done doing whatever And when you're through doing whoever You know, this city will be right here waiting for you

Come back to Belfort It's just not the same since you went away Before you lose your accent And forget all about our charming ways There's a seat for you at the combat games And I've got every slow dance saved Besides, all the elven wine sucks north of here anyway

I think I made a mistake It's not that easy to take She went to make a deposit Then she cleaned out her closet Guess I'll sit here and wait

For her to come back home It shouldn't take very long I bet she misses the sunrise And Raven's fruit pies, but I could be wrong

So when you're done doing whatever And when you're through doing whoever You know, this city will be right here waiting for you

Come back to Belfort It's just not the same since you went away I bet you missed the Old Road And rode right on past our charming ways There's a seat for you at the combat games And I've got every slow dance saved Besides, all the elven wine sucks north of here anyway

Zander stood near the front table where his friends and fellow adventurers were still located. He had wandered through the crowd again for this song and this was the culmination. Keeping the rhythm, he stood as close as possible to his friends and pointed to them before he sang their corresponding line.

Valestis wants you back Dycannus wants you back Sivora wants you back Even Tarin wants you back Edea wants you back And Raina wants you back

I got a premonition I'm taking a petition And the whole city will sign

At this point, he stopped playing and merely clapped as he slowly went through the chorus again. Eventually, this is where he wanted the crowd to sing, but they didn’t know the words yet.

Come back to Belfort It's just not the same since you went away Before you lose your accent And forget all about our charming ways There's a seat for you at the combat games And I've got every slow dance saved Besides, all the elven wine sucks north of here anyway

Now, he reset the pace to normal and played his guitar through the song’s end.

Come back to Belfort It's just not the same since you went away Before you lose your accent And forget all about our charming ways There's a seat for you at the combat games And I've got every slow dance saved Besides, all the elven wine sucks north of here anyway Besides, all the elven wine sucks north of here anyway Besides, all the elven wine sucks north of here anyway

When he finished, he took as big a bow as he could and then soaked in the cheers and adulation of the crowd. It might be a while before they got quiet again. Zander nodded towards Nancy, but she already had his tips bowl up and was making the rounds again. Maybe he wouldn’t try to pick up another girl to add to their festivities after all. Naaaaaa, he owed it to himself. No, he deserved it. He handed out a few more picks and shook hands and accepted pats on the back from men and pats on the ass from women.

He slowly made his way to the stage. He was exhausted. Before he got there, he was stopped by a sweet-looking young woman, perhaps in between his and Nancy’s age. She was undeniably cute and he stopped to chat her up. Target acquired, he thought.

Nancy made her way back to the stage with the bowl and seeing Zander busy talking, she emptied it into the guitar case. She picked up the loose coins and deposited them into the case as well. She closed the case and picked up the one full bottle of wine left. Apparently, Zander hadn’t drunk as much as he thought he would.

He beckoned Nancy over to where he was after she was done collecting his gear. The case was now heavy with coins and there wasn’t room for the guitar any longer. She carried the case, but had to use both hands for it and wine, using the crook of her elbow to hold part of the case as well. He motioned to the girl standing next to him. “Nancy, this is Sarah,” then he motioned to Nancy “and Sarah, this is Nancy.” The two girls exchanged quick pleasantries. He looked at Nancy and said “I was just explaining to Sarah here the meaning of the elven phrase ‘ménage a trois’ and maybe you can help.” Nancy was so excited that he had asked for her help that she just blurted out matter-of-factly “Oh, well that’s when three people engage in –“. She gasped and her face went white as she stopped the definition in mid sentence. Tamizander laughed and put an arm around her, saying “Don’t worry, doll, we can discuss it in detail more privately.” She looked up at him as his hand slid down her back and patted her on her firm rear, and then he winked at her. She smiled at him, but her smile was uncomfortable at best. Zander threw his other arm around Sarah and slowly slid that hand to her backside as well. “Let’s go, ladies,” he announced “we’ve got some serious discussions to pursue!” Then, they were all on their way. As he left the crowd, some of whom were still cheering and clapping a little; Tamizander could be heard saying “Nancy, doll, I’d consider that a rousing success, wouldn’t you?” She never replied, concentrating on carrying the wine and the coin-heavy guitar case and wondering about Sarah. 1992.xx.xx

The Sorceress Within

"I don't know how many more I can kill!" Valestis screamed. He was covered in black ash that was congealing with the sticky contagion that exuded from the pores of the undead he fought. Mud and blood oozed from the cracks in his armor and his usually luminescent eyes were dulling with fatigue. The creatures kept coming! When they rode for Belfort, they had pushed at a full gallop for several miles when his intuition kicked in and he sensed danger. The fatigue from the ride and the ferocity of the battle was wearing him down and if his concentration slipped at all, he could be consumed by this unholy army.

"Keep fighting," Duncan yelled back, "we have to give the town time to get the civilians to safety and muster the garrison!" In spite of his words of encouragement, he was in no better shape or spirits than the celestial paladin. He'd burned several of the creatures with a flame strike from the heavens, but their number seemed insurmountable. It was fifty against two and the two were no longer holding their ground.

Another slash of Valestis' blade cleaved the ashy flesh of a vampire and evoked a blood curdling scream. These ash undead were becoming more and more brave about attacking in the day time and also with near- military precision. At first, the creatures were only found underground. They seemed to spring up from the very earth without form. When their kills began to mount, their number increased beyond what could be held in a cave or dungeon. The weather darkened, allowing them to roam freely at night or day. These monsters had a master, and he was powerful enough to control the skies.

The creatures moved to surround the pair. Ghouls and zombies shuffled with surprising speed looking to slam the heroes to the ground and feed on their living flesh. The vampire captains looked on with their blank faces, not human like a true vampire, but blank like the features had burned off their skin, leaving a smooth canvas with which their evil master could start over. The very touch of a vampire caused an indescribable pain, one so awful that a lesser man would be forced to give into a deadly paralysis and death.

"They're flanking us," Valestis realized. "Move left, break through!"

Duncan turned to his left, faced down four zombie minions and raised his shield high into the air. "Back to Hell, monsters!" he commanded. The shield took on a life of its own, slightly quivering with energy. The symbol of Heironeous, a great, white fist clutching a bolt of golden lightning, adorned the front. In the hands of a Swordarm, such a symbol of faith was as powerful as any sword and Duncan proved it now. The abominations all gazed with a morbid fascination at the symbol, unable to look away. Their eyes blazed with the power of the holy symbol. From some internal explosion, the zombies incinerated where they stood, with nothing remaining of their existence but an acrid smell and a bad memory.

Duncan and Valestis dashed through the newly made hole in the creatures' trap and were free. Valestis tore down another ghoul before it could make contact with Duncan. The cleric returned the favor by slashing through two zombies with a single, powerful stroke of his sword, the Glorious. As the bodies fell at their feet, they began to take hope. The warriors had turned the tide on this rank of enemies, but they had also attracted the attention of many more.

Across the battlefield, the town of Belfort watched in horror. The garrison troops had no special skills to deal with the ash undead. Their commander, Mathias Gold, was reluctant to send aid to the men fighting their own personal war because a man who fell under the teeth of an ash undead would become another enemy to strike down almost immediately.

"We have to do something, I'm riding out to help them," Tarin, the ranger, screamed. "You can't close up the doors and leave them to die out there."

Gold grabbed him by the arm, "And if I send out fifty men, then they will have fifty more to kill in an hour's time. How is that aid, ranger?" "Coward!" Tarin replied.

"He's right," Sivora agreed. "You've fought these beasts. You know that against these creatures that Duncan is twice the warrior that I am and I am four times the warrior of any man under Gold. They will eventually make it to the wall and we can close them out and defeat them with burning oil."

Tarin looked at the newly built wall of the city. The soldiers were busy moving great cauldrons into position over the main gate. There was an archer with each team, no doubt ready to send a flaming arrow into a gathering of undead bathed in oil and flash fry them back to Hell. Tarin had to admit to himself that the plan was sound, with one exception.

"But do they know to retreat?" he shouted.

The words filled them all with dread at the same time. The three ran up the stone stairs for a better vantage point. Tarin and Sivora could see the battle had changed significantly since they broke from Valestis and Duncan and rode to the town. Just minutes before there was four companies of undead infantry making their way to the town. One was completely destroyed and the other had suffered major losses. Valestis and Duncan seemed on the verge of victory, but that is usually when the rug slipped from under you, and it had.

The remaining two companies had stopped moving toward the town. They turned, again with an almost military precision, and began to advance on the pair of fighters in the field. With the large number of opponents, there would be no way that Duncan or Valestis could survive. Both were now on foot, Duncan's mare killed and Valestis' mount fighting with them as another soldier. Aerie was so far away, she could not rescue them before the other ranks of undead closed in.

"They're trapped," Sivora gasped. "Archers, fire into the ranks!"

Of all the arrows loosed, only two managed to hit targets. Tarin and Edea smiled at their success, but the joy was quickly extinguished when their prey stood again and shuffled back into line.

"Sivora," Edea called, "now what?" Her blue eyes were wide. She never felt a dread like this, the dread of losing someone dear. Her losses early in life seemed like a bad memory and her personal connections since then never let her get close enough to fear a loss like this. She'd just gotten Valestis back, her mentor and friend, and in the time they'd spent in Belfort the cleric had become much less annoying. She looked at Sivora, hopeful that the strategist would have a brilliant plan, but the other woman was even more afraid of the inevitable than Edea. It was her lover out there on that field, and she was about to watch him die.

"I cannot watch them die," Tarin yelled, tossing away his bow and scrambling down the stairs. He leapt off and grabbed his quarterstaff in a graceful motion. "My fate lies with theirs!"

"NO! TARIN, NO!" Edea screamed, but he had already gotten the gate open enough to squeeze through. He dashed across the field. Edea was dazed. Now someone she could not do without was out there. Her mind raced. "RAINA!"

The half-elf was next to her, looking upon the fighting and taking in the horror of war. She'd fought in small battles, mostly just handfuls of enemies that threatened her life or her purse. This was different. This army intended to not only defeat them, but to utterly destroy their lives and turn them into creatures like themselves. She did not feel fear, but horror at the will of such a collection of creatures to do evil. She looked at Edea with emerald eyes, trying to transmit comfort through the air and into her friend's heart. The two had gotten close since their introduction, sharing a sharp wit and a talent for smartly denying the advances of townsmen. Both beautiful in opposite ways, they shared a common spirit that couldn't be tamed. Although they called each other friend, they had never imposed on that friendship, until now.

"Raina," Edea pleaded, crossing the distance between them in two quick steps, "save them!"

"How?" the elf asked. She did want to help, but she was even smaller than Edea without the skill with a blade. She had no talent for warfare. Edea dropped her bow and grabbed the other woman by her shoulders. Edea's eyes were very narrow and focused.

"Burn them all," she said in a growl.

"What if I can't?" Raina asked. Her power as a magic user was growing, but she had no teachers or mentors. No one used arcane magic in Belfort, especially not tapping into mystic reserves as Raina did. In her youth she was scolded for the strange circumstances that would occur when she was threatened or angered, but now she was learning to focus on her feelings and evoke great and terrible retribution. Only once had she been able to call upon fire to fight for her, and now Edea was asking her to do it again, with perfect precision.

Edea didn't answer her question with a word, but with a movement. She turned Raina roughly to face the battlefield. Edea stood behind her with her hands on the elf's hips. Raina heard her whispering a prayer and knew that she was their last option and only hope of preventing the three men's death. She could not fail. Raina reached into a small pocket in her snowy, white dress and removed three small pearls. She began to speak in a foreign tongue and focused on one of the jewels. It began to heat up, crackling and spitting like it was a hot ember, though it didn't burn Raina's delicate hand. With the incantation cast, there was only one action left. Raina reared back and threw the pearl directly into the middle of the advancing horde.

The small missile flew not from the force of the throw, but the will of the thrower. Raina set her eyes upon a spot in the center of the furthest company of creatures, still lined up in rows. They had turned to march upon the heroes, but were still more than forty feet away from engaging them. The tiny gem was out of sight quickly except for the sparking and spitting ambers it produced as the cold air met its superheated exterior. It made contact with the ground over two hundred feet away in less than six seconds from leaving Raina's grip. Upon impact, the gem exploded with a violent power. Flames burst from the center like a great volcano, engulfing the entire company in an orange wall of fire. The monsters didn't even have time to emit screams. The flames returned the undead to the ashes whence they came in no more than a blink.

The fighting stopped at the sound of the explosion. Tarin, bolting at full force towards the enemy, slid to the ground, his face and arms just missing the outer limit of the flame burst. Valestis and Duncan had again been surrounded, but stood back to back fighting off the ghouls and vampires that sought their blood. The intense light of the fireball grabbed the attention of their attackers and they used it to strike down the last ones within reach. The last remaining company was disconcerted. They didn't know which to do, attack the warriors on the battlefield, or turn their attention back to the town that had just sent the flaming projectile into their allies. The indecision lasted a full ten seconds, and then the decision was made irrelevant.

The second burst was as large and as violent as the first. This one landed to the side of the opposing force, on the side farthest from retreating paladin and cleric. They had begun to run away from the rank of undead foot soldiers to give the sorceress enough room to repeat her attack. Tarin was back to his feet and withdrawing from the battle as well. Not as many undead were consumed by the second burst, but enough to make their attack utterly hopeless. They began with over one hundred abominations, and were now left with only a dozen. There would be no retreat, as the undead had no reason to fight another day, but there would be no victory. They pressed forward towards the town, pursuing the retreating ranger. Still tightly packed together, they made an easy target for the last blast. Thirty seconds after Belfort had accepted that two of their heroes would die, the battle was over and casualties were zero.

Raina felt two arms reach around her thighs. Edea's face was pressed into her back as she was lifted up by from behind. She knew immediately who'd grabbed her because she didn't go up very far. "Put me down you pocket-sized thief!" she screamed, but there was unmistakable joy in her voice.

"You beautiful witch!" Edea exclaimed, dropping the magic user to her feet and embracing the elf ferociously. "I love you, you beautiful witch!"

"You're giving the solders wet dreams, Edea," Sivora said, coming over to join in the congratulations. "Nice job girl. You really pulled that one out of the dragon's claw."

"Thanks, Siv," Raina replied almost bashfully. She was fearless around men, but powerful women, like her mother, still intimidated her.

"Holy SHIT!" Gold was screaming, running over to the three women. There were cheers and claps of joy from everyone that could witness the carnage below. The soldiers rejoiced they didn't have to fight the monsters and the citizens celebrated another chance. "That was awesome!"

"Not nearly as awesome as some of my other skills," Raina purred, now with a man to focus on and beguile.

"Yeah," Edea chimed in. "You should see her do that nude." It took nearly as long for Commander Gold to reel in his tongue as it did for Raina to incinerate half an undead army.

Everyone was happy at the turn of events, but still unsure of how to approach the elf maid. No one, even those she traveled with, knew that her powers had reached such a deadly peak. Although Edea had hoped, she had never guessed that Raina could out-slay the two holy soldiers in just a few seconds. The men in the garrison wanted to hug her and hoist her to their shoulders, but they also feared her, with the beauty of an angel and the might of a dragon. Inside, she realized the instant respect she'd gained with her prowess, and loved it. A large, coy smile spread across her face. She pulled her hair back to reveal her pointed ears and flexed her ample chest outward to soak up the stares. Sivora and Edea just laughed at the instant blossoming of this awesome flower.

Sivora turned to go down the stairs, grinning widely. She wanted to check on Duncan, but couldn't resist a last bit of fun at the moment. "Yep, great job girly. The only thing you got left to do now is celebrate with a good lay," she shouted to all the men within earshot. You could almost see the blood leave their faces and fill their loins.

Edea smacked her friend on the back and let her soak up some more male attention. She ran down the staircase with an amazing agility, almost not touching the stones underneath her feet. Tarin was back inside the wall, looking for her. The last six steps were unnecessary as she sprung at him. The ranger dropped his weapon and snatched her like a falling melon. The rogue hugged his neck tightly, scratching her soft cheek against his scruffy beard on purpose.

"Your friend almost singed that off," Tarin said happily. He set her gently on her feet although she still clung to his neck. "I had to go," he whispered into her ear.

"And I had to save you," she said back. She let go enough to meet his eyes. "Those bastards never thought when they set their eyes on the walls of MY town that there was a sorceress within." They grinned at each other, embraced again, and turned to meet the thundering hooves of Valestis' mount, bringing both of their friends back to safety. The Wheels of Prophecy, I

Commander Gold stands before Tarin and Edea. He’s been given control of the city, unofficially, at least. Artorius calls him ‘Commander’ and so does everyone else. The regent likely does not want to upset the captain of the soldiers he has traveled with by giving Mathius a grand title or such, nor Gold by not rewarding his duties and loyalty to the town. It will likely come to a head at some point, but you’re sure that the prince will settle it before such a time. For now, though, there is more than enough to occupy the thoughts of everyone involved.

“Really? He wants to see us? What for?”

“He didn’t say Edea, but I imagine it’s because two of his scouts are late in reporting in and he is very concerned. So I offered to ask you.” He looks at you. “Will you see him?”

Edea looks at you as well. [Tarin responds…if he agrees, proceed; if not, Edea will offer to go by herself and say “Well I’m going. He’s cute…”]

IF YES: “Good. He’s in his study. Let me show you.” Commander Gold takes them to the mansion and to his study, which is looking more like a war room these days.

There are military advisors pouring over maps and plans. There are scholars digging through tomes and scrolls. A few of the higher ranking town priests are wearing frowns while examining potions. They are the priests of Heironeous that the prince brought with him. The priests of Pelor who are normally in town have gone to Pirgos and Sarna to help them with the presence of a terrible new disease. Fortunately, if one is cured in time, one can recover completely. If not, death is horrible and agonizing as the body twists itself and the mind gives way to a feral state.

Mathius leads you through the room towards an open door. A familiar voice in the corner of the room captures your attention.

“By the gods, who wrote this dribble?!”

It’s Zander!

“You wrote it?!” He is obviously speaking much louder than whoever he is talking to. “You can’t just make up crap when you don’t know what happened! This is history, fool!” He shoves the bound parchments to a nearby scholar. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too recent; we need to look further back.”

He doesn’t notice you or Edea, which is surprising. He seems to be completely absorbed in whatever it is he’s doing. And he looks serious. It’s unsettling at best. At least you know where he is, as he hasn’t been chasing Edea, Tia, or even Raina around much for a few days.

Edea cranes her head to see him. She is on the other side of you and has a difficult time getting a clear view. “That Zander?” [Tarin responds]

Gold stops at the door and motions for you both to go in. He shuts it behind you.

Inside, the prince is studying a small book of parchments. The room is a mess. There are books, tomes, scrolls, and the like scattered about. He somehow looks older than he did just a week ago at the dinner celebration.

He looks up and smiles at you both. His toothy grin disarms you, though you hadn’t realized that you were tense at all. Edea sighs beside you, but you sense that it’s just to get a rise out of you and take your mind off of the last time you spoke to the prince. This is, afterall, the man responsible for enlightening you on your step-father, Sir Gavin Blackblade. It’s still all sinking in, but you still feel the euphoria of the knewy acquired knowledge and the lightness in your step.

Edea has been eyeing you differently at times since then and you’ve yet to really discuss what’s been at the back of both of your minds. You can sense that she’s a little frightened. Not about the possibility of dangers ahead, or even the undead and the disease. She’s afraid of herself, and of what you mean to her.

“Tarin, Edea, I am glad you came. It’s good to see you both. I will spare us some tongue-wagging and cut to the chase. As you know, strange undead and a new disease are becoming more widespread in the lands of Avalon. We are pressed to learn about these things. I am even paying the bard for his help. He is a wealth of seemingly trivial information, but when written down and compiled…” he shakes the bound parchments in his hand “it makes quite a bit of research material. It seems that he’s forgotten more than my sages know.”

He sets the papers down. “We also have the ever present threat of our natural enemies in the land, such as gnolls, orcs, goblins, and even giants. I have scouts and rangers on sentry in the surrounding lands. Two of my men have yet to report in and are a day late. I fear…” [he closes his eyes for a second and sighs] “Nay, I know something has happened to Raelin and Trilik. My men are spread thin, and with these two gone, there are not enough to fill their loss until more come. Mathius tells me that you two originally answered his call for help. I am hoping you will do the same with my call. You will, of course, be compensated for your time and effort.”

[If Tarin asks how much, the prince replies “How much do you want?” Edea looks at Tarin to answer. She seems caught up in the prince’s little speech. He is good, there is no doubt about that. Tarin can decide… If yes, proceed; if not, Edea will take the prince up on his offer…if questioned by Tarin, she will say “Because I have to do something, Tarin. Tymora teaches that luck isn’t totally random. It’s where preparation meets opportunity. Every act of good stacks chance on your side… and I have ground to make up…”]

IF and WHEN TARIN AGREES: “Excellent! Here is a map of their section. At their last check-in four days ago, they spoke of two cave openings. We believe they are here. They found what appeared to be human tracks, but wanted to report before they investigated the caves. All I need you to do is to see if you can find them and those caves. Determine what those tracks are from and where they head to from the caves, or where they originate from. Return to Gold or myself when you are done.”

He moves some books out of the way on a shelf and hands you each 2 potions. “Cure Disease potions. This disease can be cured, but the incubation period appears to vary from person to person, sometimes as little as four or five hours. I know in your hearts that you are adventurers, but you must return to tell me what you see, so do not take any unnecessary risks and if you see any of the strange undead, return immediately. Do you have any questions?” [may ask questions] “Then, godspeed, and be careful.”

Exiting, Zander still has his nose in a tome and is scribbling notes. “Ink! I need more Ink!” he hollers to no one in particular.

They see Mathius at the large table. [anyone (Tarin or Mathius) can say something to each other, and/or Edea as well…they can also talk to Zander if they like, but Edea will slink away if they do]

1992.xx.xx

Told Ya So

It was morning, or at least what could be called morning. The sky was as gray as it had been for months now. Only the daylight spells cast by the clergy helped marked the time of day, if only for the sake of morale and sanity. The spells worked well enough though, and most of the people of Avalon went on about their business as usual. In the city of Belfort, things were much the same and today's activities were no exception.

Even with the light, a sleepy haze lingered over the city. The night before, Prince Artorius had thrown a lavish celebration feast for its heroes. The party had gone on well into the wee hours and most of the citizens lucky enough to attend were still sleeping off the effects; although the average townsperson was unaware and unaffected and bustled through the streets at the first sign of the magical sunlight to which they’d become accustomed. There did seem to be a certain hush in the streets. Of the heroes honored during the previous night's festivities, only one was up and moving outdoors as of yet.

Valestis was in the stable feeding his mount, Aerie. The horse’s silvery coat glistened even in the false light and she whinnied and stamped her approval of the meal. She did not need to vocalize her desires with him, but she did so anyway to remind him who was really in charge. Aerie was sometimes a bit much for the common garrison stable boy to handle, so Valestis offered to handle the mare as time permitted. It was part of their arrangement anyway, ensuring that his celestial mount was well cared for. She was a demanding mistress and if things were not to her liking, she would let him and anyone within earshot know in a hurry.

Their white eyes exchanged glances when she was communicating in the way they were accustomed. They knew what the other was thinking, and sometimes wished they didn’t. Valestis reached a carrot out to Aerie’s mouth and snapped back just in time to keep his hand.

“Easy girl,” he chided mockingly. This was a game they played and he knew that she was feeling a little left out recently, so he indulged her. “Sorry, girl,” he admitted with a sigh, patting the steed on her head and rubbing. “I’ve been thinking of other women.”

And he had been. He stroked the horse's mane and closed his eyes. He had known two true loves in his young life. One, Kaylessa, was taken from him during an attack on his home by undead. Lost with her was his only son. It took him years to heal from that tragedy and eventually led him to the path he now walked as a paladin of Kelemvor. The second love was still alive, but was now with another man. Tia was a diamond he found in the rough lands of Vontiff being abused by her own father. He saved her and stayed close until he was kidnapped and killed over a year ago. By the time he was raised and healthy enough to return to Avalon, she had moved on. Now she was with Prince Artorious, and if the rumors were true, they had consummated their relationship which she and Valestis never got to do. He had given his blessing when he learned of the relationship, but it still stung.

In spite of all of his terrible luck at love, for a brief time last night, he was able to leave those cares behind and be bewitched by the beauty of a female. It was nearly intoxicating enough to make the paladin forget himself and his willpower… almost. He played out the evening in his mind. First, the rogue, Edea, was quite stunning in her simple, elegant dress. Her black hair and blue eyes contrasted an alabaster gown that made her look as if she was carved from fine marble instead of flesh and blood. Her grace under the eyes of so many strangers was certainly endearing and made her even more attractive. Fortunately for Valestis, she hadn’t stayed at the dinner long enough for him to be tortured by her exquisite appearance throughout the night.

Seated across from him was Lady Sivora, dressed unusually feminine and looking radiant with flowing red hair like a rising sun and a gold dress hugging her perfectly around her lean, athletic body. The announcement of her engagement to marry to his friend Duncan caused him great happiness and quelled any lust he felt for her as well. Duncan had recently joined him in the ranks of the paladins and Valestis had determined that he would help to guide his friend through the path to becoming his own form of holy warrior. Valestis didn't pretend to know all the answers to the questions he had and would have, but then again, he had several years of practice following this path and any light he could shed was not only appropriate, but necessary.

Then his memory reached back to hold her. She was the one that had his attention now, for the duration of last night's festivities, and even through most of his time in Belfort. The half-elf sorceress Raina Jade could make any chaste man pledge everlasting devotion to her with only a wink and a sniff of her perfume. She was as beautiful a female creature as he'd ever encountered, plain and simple. Having seen angels, he could compare her to one without any doubt. Her big, innocent brown eyes seemed never ending and her golden hair flowed about her face like a living thing. Her body demanded thoughts of a sinful nature, but her personality and actions still exuded the mischief of youth. Searching for a word, he grasped one… intoxicating.

Like a true female companion, Aerie did not take kindly to competition for attention from other females, regardless of species. She snorted out her disapproval in the form of a stream of horse- snot that Valestis just managed to avoid with a quick, if awkward, spin and slide.

“Dirty pool, my girl!” he admonished. One of the benefits of the link they shared was a little forewarning of what the other was planning. Aerie nodded her head up and down and bared her teeth while whinnying slowly and lightly. To someone outside the stable, they would have sworn it was a schoolgirl giggling at a naughty joke.

“Laugh it up and I’ll send that stable boy in here with his brush!” the paladin half-threatened. The stable boy wasn’t tall enough or strong enough to brush her properly and the awkward lad often overcompensated and brushed her too hard. She hated that and let him know it. Aerie responded to the threat by rearing up and knocking the empty bucket from his hands. Much to the mare's pleasure, the blow also knocked the paladin from his feet. Valestis knocked the dirt from his clothes and got back to his feet. Picking bits of straw and hay from his clothing and hair, he shook at single finger at the horse. “You want to be treated like a lady, but that was not lady- like behavior” he told her. She just snorted and stamped a hoof. She was tired of his lusty thoughts.

“Fine, you pick a topic then.” Valestis had gotten used to speaking with Aerie even if she knew what he was thinking. The topic she chose entered his mind and he stopped in mid motion as he was scooping up the empty bucket to look at her. “You sly minx! Fancy the ranger, do ya!?” He teased. Although he was starting to convulse with laughter, he managed to dodge a small kick from one of Aerie’s front legs. “You'd better not let Edea find out! I don’t think I can protect you from her! Hahahahaha!”

The momentary hysterics were broken by a melodic voice from the open stable doors. “Find what out?” The sound reminded him of birds singing. It was Raina, standing at the stable door in a low-cut, but otherwise modest blue dress. Her hands were on her hips and she was looking at him with one eyebrow raised. The enchanted light of day enveloped her and shone through her blonde hair in such a way that it gave the impression of an aura. Valestis could do nothing but stare. It was finally a hard hit from a cold nose that helped him find his voice. Aerie spit and turned around in her stall.

“Uh, nothing,” he stammered, regaining his composure. She had been in the doorway long enough to figure out the one sided conversation and although she enjoyed his discomfort, she didn’t pursue the question. She had these conversations with Kylala all the time, and she hated it when the ignorant didn't know that she and her familiar had more intelligent things to say than more than half the men in the town, including the royals. She sashayed his direction, stepping hard so that the force of her walk made her breasts bounce under her dress. It was loose enough not to trace her outline, but still tight enough to show ample movement. He swallowed a lump in his throat and blood quickly left his face to collect in a much more aroused organ. He instinctively held the bucket below his waist, just in case anything was to attempt its own lusty introduction.

“Do you always talk to yourself first thing in the morning?” she teased. Sure, she knew the truth, but that was no reason not to play dumb. Strong men often liked their conquests to be less intelligent, and she had more than a few dreams of being the object of this paladin's geas. He squirmed under the embarrassment enough to confirm two things for her: he was a man, and her charms were not useless against him.

“Shouldn’t you be nursing a hangover?” he parried. The sudden sharpness of his comment caught her off guard. A normal man would have been still drooling over her approach, but he was composed. She was trouble, and they both knew it. Perhaps he did have a more powerful will than she gave him credit for. She feigned an exaggerated pout with her lips and traced a circle with her bare toe. She wore no shoes or undergarments… less to get in the way if things should go well. “Well," she sang, "that's one advantage of not needing much elven wine to do the job. There isn't as much poison left over to sleep off. I do love the early morning with its fresh face and slow pace. It relaxes me.” This was a true statement. Raina was often punished in her youth for her elven trait of wanderlust and general jitters. She often wanted to sing out at the tops of her lungs or execute a perfect back flip just on a whim, but such things are inappropriate in most civilized situations. When she was alone, there was no one to look at her crossly for behaving as she pleased.

“That’s true on both counts,” he replied, backing off his earlier attempt to put her in her place. “You didn’t have much to drink and spoiling the next day for a single night's fun never appealed to me either.” He gathered Aerie’s saddle and bridle and attempted to focus on cleaning the leather and not Raina standing a breath away. He refused to look up at her, but wanted to keep talking. “You should be careful about getting too drunk though," he mock warned, "for there are plenty of men in this town who wouldn’t mind the fact that you’re unconscious.” He heard her giggle and was pleased with himself. He gathered his will for a quick wink, and then went back to concentrating on the leather polish.

The bluntness of his statement made her smile and his wink let her know that he was being playful. He was in a good mood this morning, and that was something she would have to use to her advantage while she had him alone. Too often since he'd arrived was he in the presence of Dycannus, or Sivora, or Tarin… all people who he respected and wanted to respect him. He wasn't usually silly, at least not when she was present. She liked silly, especially from such a serious man. She closed the extra space between them, reached out, and took hold of the saddle for him. He looked at her again and she smiled sweetly.

“But I had my brave knight there to watch over me,” she purred. “I wasn’t worried about my virtue.” There was a hint of sincerity in her voice and that made him blush a bit more. He broke into a rather oversized grin while he worked the polish into the leather and she almost laughed out loud. It was so strange for her to be this attracted to a man so pure of heart. Most of the men she liked were wild like her and often of a bad sort. She'd always been too guarded to get hurt, but it was still no fun having to wiggle out of the grip of danger time after time. She started to say something else, but the heavy saddle slipped from her grip. She dropped to reacquire her hold and it fell from her grasp, knocking her firmly on her butt.

"Ow shit," she snarled, "God damn it all!" She rolled up to one side and rubbed her behind where she fell. That was going to be a strawberry and it was tender to the touch already. "Mother fucker," she said under her breath and then remembered that she wasn't alone. She took her hand away from her backside and looked up sheepishly. Valestis was biting his lip to keep from smiling, but it wasn't working and looked painful.

"Go ahead," she said, "I ruined everything."

He couldn't open his mouth without letting a laugh escape. "Are you all right?" he asked finally. He moved the saddle to the side and helped her to her feet.

"Yes, damn it," she said. "I didn't want to be here cussing myself out in front of a paladin though. I was so worried that I'd say something like 'shit' or 'goddamn it'," she went on and then caught herself again. "I just said all that like three more times, didn't I?"

"Yes," Valestis chuckled, "you sure did." He dusted off her dress where he thought it was appropriate and let her finish the job. Even covered in dirt, she still looked regal. She smiled back at him.

"Thanks for the leg up," she told him. "I guess playing games is out of the question now."

He abruptly changed the subject. “I heard that you helped pick out Edea’s dress,” he said, turning around and reaching for the saddle.

Standing there stunned, she replied, “Yeah, but I originally I voted for leather. You know, something with studs.”

“You two have really seemed to hit it off, huh?” She was a bit surprised at the turn in the conversation. She wasn't sure if it was for her comfort or for his. “Yeah, she's a fun little thief. She turns me on with her spirit. It's hard not to love somebody that spunky.” She was being candid with the celestial and she enjoyed it. Then, she discovered a hole that tore in the back of her dress and she quickly folded it over to cover her bare leg.

The quick move dislodged a few long blonde tendrils that cascaded down her face and covered her right eye. Unable to use her hands, she blew at them, but they remained firmly in place. Before she could figure out how to move them without exposing the damaged dress, Valestis's hand reached out to her and swept them away from her vision. His fingers rounded her face and tucked the strands behind her ear, exposing its slightly pointed tip. She closed her eyes as his hand approached her eye and kept them closed at the tactile sensation of his fingers along her brow. She opened them again when she felt him move out of reach and return to the saddle.

“You should show off those ears a little more often,” he suggested. “They’re perfectly adorable.” Inwardly, Valestis imagined sucking on the lobes and tracing his tongue up to the point and back down. He could even feel the softness of her body press against his with all of her weight as if she was on top of him. Before his mind could imagine the perfect first kiss, Aerie whinnied and stomped a hoof in protest of the thought. Raina looked at the paladin, but he was looking at the horse.

“Hush, girl,” he teased the mount. “We were having a moment.”

Raina giggled. "Were we now?" she mocked, "I'm glad you told me!" She stood up straight and the rip down the side of her dress fell open. It wasn't enough to invade her modesty, but it still showed more of her glowing skin than she had intended when she dressed this morning. "Aww, I tore my dress," she pouted. She glanced at Valestis, but his eyes were fixed on her leg. Finally, she'd gotten the right kind of attention from him and she lapped it up like a saucer of milk.

He set down the rag and polish and removed a small pin from his shirt. It was a small symbol of Kelemvor. He had several of them, often giving them to children he met or just anyone who admired the piece of jewelry. He knelt at her leg and gently pinned the center of the tear, temporarily closing the hole. She smiled in approval at his workmanship.

"I also think I hurt my hand," she pouted and pointed at a rough place in the palm of her otherwise flawless skin. It was turning slightly purple and had a barely noticeable pebble lodged under the skin. He took her hand in his and pushed the skin so the pebble was ejected. It did not draw blood, but she gasped a little at the pressure. Valestis then gently massaged the sore, applying his healing touch to the wound. With the object expelled, the rest of the discoloration disappeared leaving only healthy pink flesh. She looked at him even more seductively. Now, she definitely was smitten with her gentle knight.

"And I hurt my rear when I fell too," she said, reaching around to pull the fabric of her dress tight against her backside. The silhouette of her curved bottom was perfectly outlined as she turned her back to him. "I think I can already feel the bruise."

Ever since his liaison with Marai, it seemed that he thought more and more about the pleasures of the flesh. Perhaps it was just another way for his lord to speak to him, to remind to be alive while he had the chance. Still, he was a paladin, and to him, indulging those thoughts and acting upon them were two totally separate things. He was not ready to abandon his personal code for a quick grasp of her lovely behind, even if it was under the pretense of healing. He'd known two true loves, and this was his first pure lust.

"I'm afraid that's beyond my reach," he apologized. "Nature will have to help you there, my dear."

She let loose the dress and let it hang as it was tailored to. She turned to him, still unwilling to give up the moment they currently shared. She was so much shorter than he that when she stood toe to toe with him, her eyes barely met his throat. She looked up and whispered, "Did you mean what you said about my ears?"

“I know people stare at you when they see them and you can hear the whispers as you pass," he said. It was though he was inside her mind, sharing her memories. "They are a gift from your heritage, something that makes you unique and beautiful. I admire them as much as I admire your many other lovely traits."

She had him again. "Many?" she cooed in a whisper. She was on her tiptoes, using his sturdy frame for balance. She wanted to get her lips as close to his as she could so maybe if while he was talking he may forget himself and give into her. It was working, as he was looking down into her deep brown eyes and becoming less and less aware of anything surrounding them. He felt the pressure of her hands supporting her weight, the smell of her perfume on the wind, and the melody of her voice in his ears. He was so awash in his senses; he lost a modicum of his control over his physical body.

"Oh my," she purred, pressing in against him. He realized a second later what she had noticed first. His initial fear of inappropriately exposing his feelings below the waist had come frighteningly true. Her hips were pressed tightly to his before he noticed, and he pulled away fast. The loss of contact was like a bandage ripped from a wound for both of them. Raina gasped, but kept her feet. Valestis backpedaled right into the saddle and flipped backwards. Any romantic thoughts that had aroused him were dashed on the dirt floor of the stable. Aerie stomped and whinnied her laugh at him loudly.

“Oh, oh your poor baby," Raina said in genuine concern. "It's ok. Let me help you up." She rushed over to him, but he rolled to all fours and stood on his own. The source of his embarrassment had retreated back into the folds of his pants, but the blood was now safely coursing through his heart like a river and through his mouth where he bit his tongue.

"Are you alright?" she said, rubbing his face with a soft hand. "Say something."

"I dink I bit my dung," he said, dribbling his words. He turned and spit some excess into the dirt behind him and faced her.

"Oh, boo," she said with her bottom lip stuck out. "That won't do." She smiled at him with the sweetest, most innocent smile he'd ever seen. She was sincerely worried for him and not judging his physical response. "We don't have to go that fast, baby. It's ok. You take your time."

He looked down at this woman, still a girl by elf standards, and felt the full innocence of her heart. She reacted to him naturally, not lustily. She was as lost in the moment of closeness as he, not just looking for a notch for her scabbard or a one night stand. Could she genuinely be interested in him?

"I just," he started then stopped. He looked away for a second, then thought of the perfect thing to say. As it doesn't happen often in the moment, he had to say it. He drew her gaze again and said, "I really fucked that up, didn't I?"

"Yes you did," she chirped, delighted that he let himself use a profanity as she had done before. Neither of them had played this little rendezvous perfectly, but it was good enough for now. "Try not to let it happen again."

She popped up to kiss him on the cheek before he could react and started off towards the door. She smacked at the dirt on the back of her dress absentmindedly until she realized it probably looked like she was spanking herself while she walked. A quick turn caught Valestis's eyes right where she thought they would be and she squealed out a laugh. She turned and ran to the door and stopped just before walking through it. Grabbing the frame, she turned back to him and blew him a kiss. As she disappeared through the door, her giggles still filled the air.

The horse stamped at him for at least two minutes before the spell of the sorceress was broken. He walked to the watering barrel and dunked his head in. He shook it hard, trying to get the images of Raina in several stages of undress to leave his eyes, but it took another dunk before the chill of the water did the trick. Rinsing his mouth, he reached inside and healed the tip. Aerie stamped again and huffed.

"I was too a gentleman," he snapped at her. She brayed at him in disapproval. "You're right; a real gentleman would have healed her bum for her. How will she sit comfortably?" This drew more mucus from the horse's nose, but he was thankfully out of reach. "And who are you to give advice on manners? That's gross."

He gathered up his brush and began stroking the horse's mane. His mind wandered to the gentle touch of her body, the delicate features of her face, the smile he received when he fixed her hair. The moment would be etched in his mind for days, possibly even years to come. It was a moment like he had not shared with a woman before. One of casual flirting and underlying desire wrapped up in an innocent exchange of conversation. Kaylessa had been nearly chosen for him by fate with her proximity to his family in Neverwinter. Tia had been nearly bound to him in return for his saving her life. This was a woman who could have any man, or woman. She was a complete free spirit, and she'd practically been tamed by his goodness. Every man he knew would admonish him for not taking her when he had the chance, but in denying himself on this day, he may have allowed himself a future encounter later.

"Oh my lord," he sighed to his loyal horse, "I'm in so much trouble."

She responded not with violence, but in a quiet snort and nod. Under her breath, she brayed.

"I know, I know," he said, patting her muzzle, "you told me so." 1993.01.01 The Journal of Gunshin

A time of need is upon my friends and former allies. The ashen undead have increased in number and strength and the task has become too daunting for the Heroes of Belfort. Last year I counted myself among their number, but an encounter in which I was nearly taken shook my confidence and revealed my weaknesses and true inability to aid my compatriots in their task. Taking my place was a valiant soldier, Mathias Gold, who is pure of heart and mind.

For the last half a year I have trained. My focus had been lost with all of my time spent outside of the monastery. I have learned to refocus my Ki with nightly meditation and even in the heat of battle. In doing so, I have increased my ability to inflict harm on my opponents. My mind is clear. I now no longer wonder if I am fast enough to hit my opponents, I know I am. My strength and reflexes have attained new heights. I am now able to defend myself from multiple attackers and have learned techniques that allow me to lay them prone at my feet while I continue to combat them. Each point of my frame is a weapon, and I can now utilize them at their fullest.

I have also studied at the hands of the local ninja clan, the Arashi. Under the Order's head sensei, a ninja of the Arashi Shino-bi clan, I learned to utilize many of the weapons used by the ninja. Although I do not prefer the use of weaponry, this style allows me to retain my quickness and fluid motions without wielding clumsy weapons and changing my focus. In fact, I have found that some of the weapons help to sharpen my focus when I wield them against an opponent. Using edges and flails in such a fast manner requires perfect discipline and precision, or else the harm that is done may be to the martial artist.

Unencumbered by a lack of focus and discipline, I now move faster, smoother, and with purpose. There are few left in the monastery that that can defeat me in a one- on-one match. My sensei is still my superior, but he has instilled in me the will to surpass him. My mind has been my weapon, but wisdom and knowledge of law has no bearing on a lawless enemy that ignores conventional wisdom. I have converted my body and very being into a weapon, and I believe my destiny is closer to being written.

The completion of my re-training comes at a perfect time. The news from Belfort tells me that Mathias Gold, a recent father, has lost his confidence in battle. While he is a fine garrison commander who has lifted himself up to the rank of heroes, his path was never to be that of a legend. As much as I have tried to avoid it, my path is. My friends have contacted me in regards to Arashi Koori, a former kohai of mine and clansman of my sensei. When I returned to the Order, he had left without warning or communication. The news from Belfort is that he served Prince Malagant, the son of the man that killed his father. While under my tutelage, I believed him to be pure of heart, but he is difficult to read and can appear to be all things to all people. Regardless, he does not possess the skill to survive the battles that my friends must face, and therefore I must go to them. The matter at hand is the scourge of Dagoth Ur. I go, giving my life and skills freely and with the blessing of my temple. One day I will return to record our victory on these pages, but until then, I leave this book with my sensei for safe keeping.

This is my journey. St. Cuthbert, watch over me.

Gunshin, the Bengosha January 1st of the 1993rd year of Avalon

1992.xx.xx

Bad News

"He just said that he needs to see us before anyone goes out again," Duncan informed his compatriots. Everyone was accounted for, Duncan's fiancée Sivora, the ranger knight Tarin, the aasimar paladin Valestis, the pretty bard Tamizander, the rogue Edea, and the sorceress Raina. They sat around their favorite table at the Bronze Halberd, about to start their evening meal.

"But we leave in the morning," Sivora protested, "and all of us need some rest. I don't think I can handle one of Prince Artorius's invitations tonight!"

"I don't know that it's like that, Red," Duncan told her, "I think it has something to do with that messenger that came in earlier today."

"If our liege calls for us, then we shall answer," Valestis said authoritatively. Duncan was not used to giving or receiving orders quite yet, but Valestis had been in a natural leadership role for most of his adult life as a paladin. Sivora was a true soldier and former captain, but she'd spent so long in a mercenary role that she was much more used to questioning orders if they didn't meet with her immediate approval or understanding.

"I guess adding that title means less hot meals," Sir Tarin joked as he pushed his plate back. He looked to Edea who looked back at him very disappointed. They had planned in secret to meet in Tarin's room and spend the evening together, a tradition they promised to keep up as long as these dangerous dungeon missions were necessary. "I don't want my last night on this plane to be anything less than a worthy one to remember for eternity," he'd told her privately. Although she admired the man that he was trying to become, perhaps the man that he'd been all along, it was times like this when she longed for his more chaotic attitude to return.

"Tell him that I'm indisposed," Raina said, "and if he pushes, tell him that means 'naked'."

"I don't think it's so urgent that you couldn't arrive a few minutes late and dressed, elf," Duncan scolded. She was very beautiful, but Duncan's mother had always told him that "pretty is as pretty does". When she acted like a spoiled Prima Donna, she was not very pretty to him. He looked at Valestis who had become deeply affected by her wiles. The paladin wanted to make an excuse for her, but didn't. However beautiful she was, she was not above the law.

"You can tell him she's with me," Tamizander chimed in, moving to stand behind the blonde goddess and hoping she would accept his advance, even if it was just to get out of another tedious celebration. "Certainly his majesty would understand if she considered his offer of company to be slightly less attractive than mine."

"OK, then he'll wait an additional minute to represent your stamina in the bedroom, Zander," Sivora jabbed. She looked hard at Raina and said, "That means you've got three minutes instead of two to get your skinny ass to the mansion." Zander removed his hands from Raina's shoulders looking truly hurt and wondering if Sivora was just being mean or if Nancy had said something about him for rebuffing her advances.

"Fine," she huffed. "But I'm just saying what you are all thinking."

"Don't presume to speak for everyone, dear," Raven chimed in, cleaning up the table for the next guests. "I'm sure your opinion doesn't even meet with the majority at this table."

"Who asked you?" Raina spit back venomously. Being more important than ever to the success of the group and not having the history of knowing what Raven meant to everyone, the barmaid's continuous unsolicited advice put her less and less in Raina's favor. "The call was for 'us'. I don't remember him asking for a bowl of stew."

"Cut it out, goldilocks," Edea warned. Raven was important to her and even her recent friendship to the half-elf wouldn't allow her to stand by while Raven was insulted. Since it was Edea who spoke, it affected the sorceress the most. She looked back at her friend, hurt and a bit ashamed. She looked back to Raven who stood at the end of the table in silence.

"I'm sorry," she told the woman. "I spoke out of a place that I can't always suppress. I admit, I am still a spoiled little brat at times. I hope you can forgive me."

"I know, darlin'," Raven said comfortingly. "I still love ya. A good pain in the ass will remind you that you're still alive every time you take a seat." Raina cracked a smile and everyone else loosened up. Raven was a lot more like her old self now that she was spending her afternoons with Scar and her evenings at the Halberd. Without the contingent of heroes to baby, she took on mothering a whole new set of fresh faced soldiers and ladies-in-waiting. About half the town now called her by her nickname "Raven" instead of her given name Simone. Of course, that could be because "Rae" is a much kinder short name than "Moan".

"Let's get going so if this is to take all night that we have a good head start," Duncan said. The rest did their best to obey him, as he was the closest thing they had to a captain, but he was also still the kind hearted, soft-spoken cleric that they all came to for counsel when another member of the team had pissed them off. He didn't command immediate respect like Valestis, or fear like Sivora, or even the wisdom that came with age like Tarin or Gunshin when he was around. No, he was a leader based on potential. It was a potential he was quickly fulfilling, but it was still potential all the same.

The sound of heavy wood scraping the stone floor echoed for a second as they all got up to leave. They milled for a moment over a last few stolen bites of their meal and a quick chug of ale or wine. The girls kissed Raven a quick good-bye, even Raina gave her a peck, and they departed. It wasn't far to the Prince's mansion. The courtyard was doing its best to grow under the artificial light, but it was more and more brown as the days of clouds and gloom wore on. Soldiers patrolling two by two stopped at attention to salute the group. Although none were official officers, what each one of them said was backed by the Prince, which made them all every influential. Most of the town had just fallen into celebrity worship to the point where they were asked to shake hands, "bless" small children with a kiss, and make their mark on scrolls of parchment to be framed and displayed in a home or market tent.

The gang of seven arrived at the mansion to find Prince Artorius waiting in his study. He was standing closest to the fire, speaking with a man dressed in a white tunic. He wore a quiver of arrows across his back and two rather wicked looking short swords strapped to him as well. They were more samurai-like wakizashis than a traditional short sword used by the Belois military. His well-defined arms were bare below the shoulder and tattooed with elaborate designs, but he wore neatly woven wrist bands and half-gloves to cover the rest of his limbs. On his chest was a scarlet cobra poised in mid-strike. It was an insignia of some sort, but one with which none of them were familiar. His face was hard with a sharply pointed nose, chin, and cheekbones. His dark eyes were like a hawk's, squinted and seemingly hunting for prey. He had a head full of black hair which was messy from some now unseen headwear he'd removed out of respect for the prince.

"My friends," Artorius announced, "thank you for heeding my call. It is always a pleasure to have your company in my home." The prince was always very formal around guests and actually didn't change much when it was just him and the contingent of adventurers. He felt that good manners were meant to show other people that you have respect for them, not just a way to seem superior. There was not a man or woman he'd ever met that didn't appreciate being appreciated. "Allow me to introduce to you an esteemed emissary from our neighbors to the north. This is Koori Arashi. He is a representative of Prince Malagant of Rimule."

At the mention of the name, the hairs on the backs of each neck stood up. Valestis and Duncan shot quick looks at each other. Sivora simply swallowed hard at the mention of her homeland. Edea tensed and reflexively drew her daggers from their hiding place within her wristbands. Surely this single soldier didn't think he could take on the Heroes of Belfort? He looked very well trained and serious, but there were seven of them! Instead of drawing a weapon for battle or acting in a threatening manner, he turned to the corps of warriors, closed a hand over his clenched fist, and bowed to them. This was a deep sign of respect among those trained in martial arts, as this fellow certainly was. The tension eased a bit, but the curiosity over the man's arrival was running rampant.

Over a year ago, all of them, excluding Raina, had been in the service of Prince Malagant. At the time, he was the youngest of the royals in Northwind, the High Kingdom of Men, located to the north of the Elf Kingdom of Dai-Rynn. At the time, Rimule was an afterthought, a kingdom wedged in between the coastal kingdoms of Northwind and the martial kingdoms of Dai-Rynn. The land had changed hands several times throughout the history of Avalon, but at this time it was securely in the Northwind boarders thanks to the military cunning of King Lejes Rimule. He fought battles with such fierceness that it was whispered he was half-demon. His health eventually failed him, giving way for his youngest son to ascend to the throne. Malagant was wide-eyed and ambitious, wanting to gain for his homeland and his name a kingdom to be respected and admired. He rebuilt his father's special fighting force, the Talon Guard, and created a great marketplace like no kingdom on Avalon could duplicate. With supplies being shipped from Balmorr in the north and the protection of the Talon Guard, a thousand merchants descended on the capital city and sold their wares to travelers from the far reaches of the continent. From the taxes alone, Malagant would have been one of the richest men in the world.

But as with such things, being one of the richest was not enough. He conspired against his own troops, plotting behind the backs of Valestis, Duncan, and Sivora, to create a double edged sword of revenues. He made a deal with the local Thieves Guild, the Crescent Moon, to attack and rob his citizens, while his team of police headed up by Valestis would investigate and bring the criminals to justice, earning gratitude and financial tithes in the process. Malagant collected the gains from both ends. Eventually, he feared that Valestis would unravel his scheme and paid an assassin to eliminate him, knowing that his death would not be permanent due to a ring of regeneration that was given to the paladin by the prince. When Malagant was seen as Valestis's rescuer, his status as a man of trust was solidified.

It wasn't until months later that Edea broke into his chambers and found the ring which was last in the hands of the assassin in Malagant's room that the plan was revealed. Malagant acted quickly to frame Valestis for the murder of Raven and destruction of her establishment which he orchestrated. He gave them the option for banishment or death to which they chose banishment. They left without a fight only to be stalked by Talon Guard under orders to eliminate them once they reached the next possible destination across the border, Belfort. Unfortunately for Malagant, the men were set upon, killed, and raised as undead by a Tiefling bent on killing Valestis herself. The paladin was killed, but the rest survived. It took the remaining adventurers several weeks to set themselves up in a new town and months to put behind them the sudden upheaval of their lives, but the introduction to this stranger at the time when they were on top of the world brought all of their fears and doubts back to the present.

"What business does that maggot have south of the border?" Edea screamed. "You will not take all of us; I don't care if you are a monk or samurai!" Tarin grabbed her about her waist, knowing that there was no chance of the man attempting to fight them here and now. Her face was hot with tears. She hated everything that had to do with that part of her past and now, when she was feeling her most normal, it had come back to rear its ugly head. She was determined to lop it off.

"Milady, I mean you no harm," he said quietly. He tried to soften his features, but his face still resembled a warrior's blade. "The prince has sent me to offer his congratulations at your success and fame and to offer his blessing to your actions against these awful undead that threaten the entire country."

"He speaks the truth, my friends," Arthur said, stepping in between the messenger and his subjects. "Malagant has sent with this man several thousand gold pieces to aid us in our war effort."

"It's blood money, your majesty," Valestis growled. "Money earned from my own blood." He still burned to bring justice to this man who had played his emotions and his mind so effectively, blinding him to the evil which he was brought to the land to fight. Malagant's power was great then, and there was no telling how much more he had accumulated in the past year.

"I understand the many rumors that circulate around the prince," Arthur said in a strange tone. It was as if he was speaking not for the benefit of his friends, but for some invisible listener that only he was aware of. "I also understand your first-hand knowledge of his treachery and that cannot be discounted. By your actions of late, it even weakens his position more, but you will be interested in hearing the news of this stranger."

"Let us sit and listen," Sivora said aloud. Although she was still firm in her decision not to follow Malagant's evil ways, in the time since her banishment, she had realized the depth of what she'd given up. If this man was here to present an option to live in the best of both worlds, she would at least hear it. But, more realistically, it was a great opportunity to delve into the enemy's mind and discover his motivation.

"Thank you, Lady Swordwraith," the messenger said. The white clad warrior beckoned for them to sit which they did. He removed a scroll and unraveled it. Were it a spell, Edea would be on him faster than a striking cobra to stop the incantation and end his worthless life. He did not speak in draconic, he spoke in basic, and he spoke elegantly.

"My former subjects, friends, and countrymen. I write to you humbled and ashamed by my past deeds. You have proven yourself to be the great heroes of the day that I knew you would become when you were in my employ. I can only take a modicum of credit for your success, although I'm sure it was hatred for me which drove many of you to excel as warriors in the time that we've been apart. The word of your deeds in Belfort travel quickly as well as the battles you've fought in other kingdoms around the land. I have sent with my emissary a portion of my wealth to aid you in your quest and I hope it serves as the initial brick in a bridge of peace I intend to build between us. A month ago, I renounced the banishment for each of you and it public knowledge that Simone Moore was indeed not killed, but accompanying you in Belfort. I accepted the blame for the deception and apologized for my youthful greed and arrogance. I only wish you were here to view the beauty of the city and marketplace which you helped build."

"I have also severed ties with the Crescent Moon Guild, and the war between their partisans and my Talon Guard has raged since. At the time of this writing, I have in my employ just under one hundred Talon Guardsmen remaining, enough to defend my people from the internal scourge, but not one that is external. That is why I write to you now. Within my borders is a source of evil that I believe you seek. I have lost many men attempting to infiltrate it, but instead I grow the enemy's number with every man I send to defeat it. I beg of you and your liege, the just Prince Artorius, to come to my land and free my people of this evil. If you will not do this for my sake, please think of the subjects that you once defended with your own blood and sweat."

"I ask of you no more than this. I accept that you may never forgive me, but I hope that the fire burning for my blood within you doesn't keep you from accepting my gratitude once you have proven successful in your quest. I have the utmost faith in you as I have seen firsthand what your morality and your resolve can accomplish. Once you have rid Rimule and Avalon of this scourge, I beg of you and your prince to travel to my capital and bathe in my hospitality for a time of your choosing. You will be pampered and witness to as great a service and spectacle that money can provide. All of my resources are at your disposal. You may travel freely through my borders as if you were my own kin."

"I remain humbly your servant,

Prince Malagant Rimule"

After hearing the humble tone and humility in the words, each of the heroes found themselves longing to believe the messenger. Had their original liege turned a morale corner and become receptive to the error of his ways? Were they really free to travel within the borders of Rimule, or was it some sort of trap? King Belois had made it well known that any leader that sought to interfere with their actions would bring the full military force of Dai-Rynn upon their kingdom. Rimule was no exception and with a scant one hundred soldiers, no matter how elite, they wouldn't stand a chance. The money had been real enough. In the magical sack were piles of gold that had to number in the tens of thousands.

"If I could perform in Rimule, I could retire in two year's time and live richer than Artorius!" Zander said aloud. He received strange looks, but they also knew he told the truth.

"Two of us are knighted to Artorius and another to be knighted by his father, the High King," Valestis told no one in particular. He sought to break the spell the flowery words had cast on their hearts and imaginations. "Two more are guaranteed such an honor should they choose to accept it. We have no home that does not lie within Belois."

"My lord does not ask that you renounce your liege, but consider our land as a second home," the smooth speaking man assured as he rolled up the scroll and handed it to Duncan. "Prince Artorius deserves all of your allegiance and respect. You should know that your fame has grown in Rimule as much as here. Our people follow your actions and claim you as their own. As she is not currently knighted, Lady Sivora is welcome to renew her post as captain of the Talon Guard and receive a knighthood at her will. The temple of Heironeous will soon add a statue of Dycannus Bane into their hall of heroes, commissioned by the prince and sanctioned by Priestess Shandall herself. The Swaggering Swine is being rebuilt twice as grand as it once was, and only awaits its master to reopen. All of this, I have seen with my own eyes."

The more the man spoke, the more believable the scenario became. What would life be like with Raven again running the Swine? If Sivora renewed her command of her hometown fighting force and became a famous general? If Duncan was placed in the same Hall of Heroes where he once tidied up, cleaning droppings from passing birds from the heads and shoulders of long dead paladins and clerics? It was all too good to be true. And who was this messenger. He looked as if he belonged in a Thieves Guild or a ninja clan. Why was he chosen to deliver this message?

"And as a last gift to honor your deeds," he said, "my master has sent to you my services to be employed at your leisure. I will be glad to assist you in wiping out this undead scourge or acting as an additional blade and bow in defense of your city."

"This is a most generous offer, Kooriya," Prince Artorius replied, using the familiar version of the warrior's name in his native dialect, "but we do not deal in slavery on this side of the border. You can tell your prince that his gift is rejected with all due respect."

"You misunderstand, your majesty," he rebutted, "I come to you of my own free will, a volunteer to serve. I am not native to this land, that is evident, but I am familiar with the deeds of your heroes long before they came to be in your employ. Since that time I have longed to be counted among their number. I do come as an offer of support from my lord, Malagant, but I also come as a willing ally against evil."

"I can sense no malice in his heart," Duncan whispered to Valestis, both of them using their innate connection of good to detect any evil in the man before them. There was nothing but goodwill in his actions.

"Nor do I," Valestis reluctantly admitted, "and he wears no magical items with which to fool us like his master did."

"Tell me this, rogue." Tarin spoke up, "Should your path with us bring you in direct conflict with your master, Malagant, which side will you fall on?"

"By volunteering for this duty, I am freed of service by Prince Malagant. I am what my samurai brothers would call a ronin," he explained. "Once I take a new liege, I will forever be in his service until such a time when he releases me as well."

"A debt to Arthur is a debt for life," Sivora spoke eloquently.

"And death," Edea added threateningly. She still fell back on her distrust for Malagant, not having the reassurance of magical divination to tell where his alignment lay.

"If he has skills, we should use them," Raina announced. This was the first time she asserted herself in such a setting. She was usually content to let the more experienced "adults" do the talking, but more and more she was feeling like an equal and as such should be able to speak her mind and have it respected.

"I thank you, lady elf. I would address you by name and title, but I have not been schooled as to your identity," Kooriya said.

"I am Raina Jade," she said, lifting herself slightly from the chair before settling back in it. He again clenched his open hand around his fist and bowed in her direction. She smiled back at him, sure of herself and in her assessment. Anyone who acted that humble had to be true of heart.

"My good man," Arthur said to the warrior, "would you please help yourself to a meal in the dining room. I know you have traveled far and as of yet have refused food or drink until your message was delivered. Your mission is accomplished and we will discuss your future with us here in Belfort in your absence. We will let you know our verdict shortly. "

"You highness," he said, bowing a last time to all and leaving the room. His steps were silent, like that of a ghost. When he left, there was no clear impression of him left in the room, just the image of a white specter in their minds and the scroll that he read from in Duncan's hands.

"It's a bloody trap!" Edea shouted. The debate was not going well, with much trepidation on each side.

"Give him a chance, Edie," Raina said, "you guys weren't this hard on me when I wanted to join you and I turned out ok."

"You were much lovelier," Zander cooed.

"And not sent to us by our gravest of enemies," Tarin growled back in the bard's direction. This was a time for serious debate, not for flirtation.

"I agree with Raina," Sivora said. Stunned silence settled over the room. "I think that we should look at this as an opportunity to return to Rimule." Duncan was especially shocked. As they were engaged and living in his native land of Belois, he'd assumed she was happy with her life here. The banishment was much different on Sivora. She was a lifelong resident of the kingdom and had served the Rimule line faithfully as long as she could hold a sword. She was forced to leave only because she sided with total strangers over Malagant's orders, then risked life and limb to keep them all alive and fed. Now, with an opportunity to go home and set right what had gone wrong, she didn't want to let something as frivolous as certain death stand in her way.

"Perhaps," she continued, "this is our chance to earn Malagant's trust and free the people from his tyrannical reign. Perhaps this is our chance to see if he's redeemed himself and wishes to atone." She looked back at Duncan over her shoulder. "Perhaps this is our only chance to return home."

"Home?" Edea queried. "We live here."

"We live here now, Edea," Duncan said, walking over to stand behind Sivora's chair. "For many years we each lived there. I'm not saying that I haven't grown to love Belfort, but there will always be a place in my heart for Rimule as well. I can only imagine what Siv's been going through."

"And Raven," Raina said. "The document said that Raven could have her tavern back. You don't think she'd love that?"

"Yes," Valestis agreed, "she would love that. It would make her whole again." Valestis secretly enjoyed that it was Raina, before the rest of them, which had mentioned Raven. He loved Raven like an older sister and it hurt him to watch her suffer in silence. The fact that Raina had not only noticed it, but thought to speak it out loud, impressed him. Maybe she wasn't just a spoiled little brat after all. "But there is no way I can trust that man again. It's too dangerous to return to Rimule while it is under his banner. I must vote no. If it is in the best interest of Belois, we can petition the king to invade and liberate Malagant's people, but that is after convincing his highness they suffer."

"If he has atoned as the letter said," Zander replied, "maybe it is the utopia that he dreamt of, and the dream that you all bought into at one time."

"I never bought into anything," Tarin said, trying to back Valestis. He didn't like the ultimate urban setting that was Rimule, but even more so he didn't like Malagant and what he could do with a simple letter. He was a dangerously intelligent foe, and to live near him would be like sharing your bed with a viper.

"Neither did I," Edea spat out, "and you are a fool to trust him again. I found Valestis's ring in a very private place, one that he couldn't have imagined I'd look when he assigned me to infiltrate the Guild. In fact, he was using us to spy on them, who he was using to spy on us. Don't you see this is another way to play us against his people and eventually each other?"

"The ashen undead threaten them as well as everyone else in this land," Duncan debated. "We must destroy the altar that lies within the borders of Rimule. We don't have to go into his court blind, but there are people there worth saving… like Shandall."

"And my parents," Sivora added, "and my sister." She reached behind her head for Duncan's hand. He grabbed it and held it tightly. She met each of her friend's eyes and stared for a moment. She had made her decision. Over a year ago she had sacrificed to protect them, and now it was their turn to repay her loyalty.

"Sivora," Valestis stuttered. "I honestly had no idea your family was still in harm's way."

"I would gladly send in a regiment to retrieve them, Lady Sivora," Arthur said from the corner. His voice surprised them. He had been very quiet, letting them fight out their battle knowing their decision should be made without him. He loved them like family, and any request they would ask of him, he would bend over backwards to grant.

"Thank you, your highness," Sivora said, nodding her head to him, "but there are neighbors and friends, people I haven't even thought about for years and years. We can move them all into Belois. No, we have to make Rimule safe."

"Yes," Valestis said absentmindedly, "We have to make Rimule safe."

"Valestis?" Raina said. She couldn't help notice that his body had tensed up and even though his eyes had no pupils, they lacked focus on a subject. "Are you possessed?"

"It's just a dream," Valestis responded, his eyes on the far wall, seeing something deep within his mind. "a dream that brought me here. A danger brought me back to this plane to fight."

"Your lord spoke to you about the undead?" Duncan asked.

"No, he spoke to me about Rimule." Valestis answered. "I know that my path will lead me back, but the tenants of my faith will not allow me to act falsely in support of a man I intend to dethrone. Something deep within displeases my lord, and once these undead are destroyed, then my path will lead me there."

"You intended to leave all along?" Raina asked with genuine hurt in her eyes. It was like she had earned a friend only to lose him in the same breath. Valestis broke his stare at the sound of her voice and met her eyes. He felt the hurt within her; she was betrayed.

"We all have unfinished business there," Valestis replied, gesturing to all of his friends.

"Not me!" Edea told them all emphatically. "I don't ever need to go back. I don't need to kill myself in an act of revenge. I'm too fucking smart for that."

"What are we if we don't use our strength to save people worth saving?" Tarin asked her quietly. "You and I once sought to destroy the evil on our own and it was too great for us. With a proper invitation and plan, we can more effectively end his reign."

"You understand, my friends," Arthur spoke again, "that if you seek to usurp Malagant's throne, that I cannot be a knowing participant in this. It would lead to war, and that is something for which Belois is not yet prepared."

"We will leave for Rimule on our next mission," Duncan said. "Sivora, Gold, Zander and I will lead the attack. We will at least stop the undead scourge, and then when this quest is over, we can more clearly decide where our paths will lead us. Until then, we are all united. Is this still so?"

"I am with you, paladin," Valestis spoke.

"As am I," Tarin confirmed.

"And I, my love," Sivora said, getting to her feet.

"Me too," Raina said cheerfully.

"And me," Edea agreed, "for this mission at hand. After that, I don't know."

"More than fair, Edea," Duncan agreed. "Tamizander?"

"Tamizander the brave will continue to fight until this scourge is defeated!" he announced grandly. This brought a laugh from everyone present. They felt they could focus on the task at hand, and deal with this most serious matter later. All that was left was one, and he was conspicuously absent.

"Where's Commander Gold?" Raina asked. Arthur spoke up again.

"He's requested that I replace him with another soldier to assist you. His last brush with death made him all too aware of his mortality at the hands of great and powerful creatures. He knows that his life will most likely end in battle, but he is not ready for it to be a battle that is not in defense of his hearth and home. I agreed to respect his wishes, even if that meant that I was to suit up and fight with you myself."

"That we could never ask, my liege," Valestis implored. "We will find another to aid us. Perhaps one of the healers would join us."

"Perhaps the man sent with Malagant's message?" Raina asked, not wanting to let her idea go.

"If he can prove his skills, he may make a powerful ally," Duncan admitted.

"He's a spy," Edea claimed, "I know it."

"Do you?" Tarin asked her. "Do you sense deception in him?"

"No," Edea admitted grudgingly, "but his master is a piece of shit."

"You should know that in his native tongue, his surname, Arashi, is from his monastery. It means "Storm" Arthur told them.

"You mean?" Sivora asked.

"He's a former monk of the Stormcloud," Arthur said, "a brother in faith to your ally Gunshin."

"I wonder what Gun thinks of him," Tarin pondered, "that would go a long way to proving his loyalty in my opinion."

"I can send a messenger to the monk," Arthur offered, turning to Duncan, "but I know that you wanted to depart in the morning."

"My lord, you've been most kind to allow us the freedom and latitude to operate with impunity under your banner." Valestis spoke in a nearly reverent tone. "I wish to thank you for your trust in our greater wisdom as to the paths of our own destiny. If we are to defeat this evil, we must do it through our collective strengths and failing. We each fill a weakness of another; to disrupt that chemistry could end someone's life. To add another at this time may put everyone in danger. My team is set. We can go in Duncan's stead while you get in touch with Gun. Then, if his background is solid, we can allow him to assist us in Gold's place."

"Absolutely not," Duncan stated firmly. "This is our fight and we'll be the ones to go. I sense no malice in the monk, and neither do you. He will join us and we will leave tomorrow." He looked Valestis dead in the eye and stated, "That is my final decision."

"We cannot adequately evaluate his fighting skill, nor train him to fight with us overnight, Duncan," Sivora said calmly. "I know you are our leader, but now is not the time to decide against our collective will. This is not the best road. We would be better off making a reformed team."

Arthur nodded in agreement. Duncan began to protest, but Sivora game him a look which told him that she would be leaving tomorrow for Rimule short-handed and on foot if need be and he knew there was no one who would stop her. He was a little hurt, his decisions were usually respected, but she knew she must call him out when he was making a mistake. His pride would heal quickly, because there was no person he'd ever trust more. Everyone appeared to agree, so the decision was made.

"We liberate Rimule tomorrow, finish this quest," she stopped to look at Duncan, "we will marry, and then we go home."

He smiled down at her and whispered, "I can't wait to meet my new parents."

"Shall we meet our new soldier for truth, justice, and the Belois way?" Raina joked. Edea glowered at her, she didn't trust the situation and felt like she was being ignored. She bit the corner of her lip and looked back to Tarin. She rose and got very close to his face, speaking so only he could hear her.

"Let's just go," she implored. "I'm not going to fall into this trap. You and I, we know better. Maybe they don't. I can't fall into this trap, Tarin. Please?"

"What did I always tell you when you didn't think you could disarm a trap when we traveled?"

Edea frowned, searching her memory. She found such a moment and it locked into her mind. "You'd make me let you spring the trap. Then I'd pull you free."

"And you never failed me," Tarin reminded her. "And I will never fail you. I don't like it either, but now I feel we have to go back. I think you do too."

"If he tries to hurt you," she warned, "crown or no crown, I'll kill him."

He put his hands on her slight waist, holding her firmly. "That's my girl."

"Your highness," a voice called from the door. It was the white warrior. "I waited out of earshot until I did not hear conversation. I assume the verdict has been reached?"

"It has, Kooriya, and I'm afraid it's bad news," Arthur told him. There was a look of disappointment on the warrior's face until Duncan finished the prince's statement.

"Welcome to the team." Blasphemy

In a cold, gray room inside the king's residence, a trial was taking place. Seated at one end of a long, oak table was the king of Rimule. He was seated closest to the door, with two of his Talon Guard standing at attention behind him. The heavy door was closed for privacy and to thwart any escape attempt by the accused. Bound and gagged were the king's son, Mythos, and his new queen, Darien. The woman's eyes were filled with tears.

"They must be put to death!" screamed the red-faced king. Lejes Rimule was in no way beloved or merciful, he was known for his temper, weakness for the female form, and brutality. These traits did make him a tremendous conqueror and the land for his kingdom was torn from the grasp of Dai-Rynn by force and maintained a strong willed identity with the high kingdom of Northwind.

"Calm down, your majesty," countered the monk seated at the other end of the long table. Flanking him on either side was a ninja, both dressed in white, sleeveless tunics and armed with an assortment of deadly weapons. "There is no need to raise one's voice at such proceedings. I am aware of the consequences of your son's actions, but I am also aware that his reasons are not without a ring of truth."

"Ballocks!" Lejes gurgled. "The boy is insane with jealousy. He slimed his way into my bride's bed and you want to listen to his testimony! And because this young slut spread her legs for him makes it more than a pack of lies? This is a mockery. I shouldn't stand for this!"

"You have agreed to let the Order of the Stormcloud arbitrate this proceeding so there will not be an unjust conviction," replied the monk calmly. He didn't seem to get upset or flustered, which was why he was often the one chosen to hear the king's cases.

"UNJUST! THIS WHOLE PROCEEDING IS UNJUST! I AM KING!"

At this point, the two crimson clad guards began to flank the king. He nodded to the other two, holding the prisoners, and they unsheathed curved daggers. The Talon guards were well armed and feared soldiers, trained through physical and mental abuse to willingly lay down their lives for Lejes at his bidding. The ninja flanking the monk tensed, moving their hands to the hilts of their swords. The likelihood of death was rising by the second.

"Call off your guards, your majesty, or I will be forced to retaliate. You know that no action can be taken against a member of the monastery," the monk reminded Lejes. He knew that if he could talk him back down, that a compromise could be reached, but once blood was spilled, a war could be the result, decimating the Order of the Stormcloud.

"GO AHEAD!" Lejes taunted, kicking his chair backwards and slamming both fists on the table. "I'm tired of this bullshit! You have no sway over me or my kingdom. Get the fuck out of my house, my city, and my land. If your monastery is still inhabited in the morning, I will burn it to the ground!"

"That would not be wise," said a voice from behind the king. Lejes turned on his heel to see his guards lying with their necks slashed, bleeding out at his feet. He hadn't even heard them fall. Brandishing blades slick with blood and poison were two white clad ninja. The slight one with black eyes and nearly yellow skin showing from under his mask was doing the talking. The other was more muscled and looked to let his actions talk for him. Each of them appeared from nowhere. The guards that had previously stood holding the king's son and bride released their grips and held their weapons at the ready. Lejes held up a hand to stop their advance.

"Enough," he said, swallowing hard. He knew the reputation of the Storm Ninjas, but until now had never seen them in action. Now he was afraid. This was not his forte, he was a battlefield commander. In a close-quarters battle, he and his men could be quickly slaughtered while they waited on reinforcements.

The monk at the head of the table stood. "Your actions have convinced me that your initial judgment is clouded by hatred, embarrassment, and fear. These are not the tenants of justice. Therefore, Mythos and Darien will be escorted to the border by my ninja and set free, banished from Rimule for the balance of your life, Lejes. A divorce will proceed immediately, and then we shall depart."

"Unacceptable," sputtered the king. "How can you come in and overrule me? I forged this land with blood and steel. I allowed you to keep your hallowed hall within my borders, and now this is what you repay me with?"

"Untie the prisoners," the monk ordered. The ninja at his back walked to the pair, shouldering the guards out of the way, and sliced away their bonds. The arbiter unfolded a parchment and reached for a pen and inkwell on the table. "Darien, you will sign this decree of divorce, relinquishing any rights to your title or lands, and will be banished."

"What about my son?" she wept. "Malagant?"

"He will remain with Lejes," the monk replied with a brutal honesty. He was not taking sides, only serving justice. "The boy has no role in your betrayal of marriage."

Mythos put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her without evoking more rage from his father. The older man seemed to burn with the very fire of Hell at the gesture.

"Your majesty, come and sign," the monk demanded. Darien stood at his side, still weeping. She married Lejes under duress, and the divorce was a gift, but so was the son she bore him and she did not want to let him grow under the king's harsh rule. She was only sixteen and had loved Mythos since they were small, hiding in the king's stables and sharing kisses under the moonlight. Now, she could be with the man she loved in spite of his father's interference, but she would never leave Malagant behind.

"Give him to me," she pleaded. "You have no love for your sons, only a quest for power. You will not live forever and when you are dead, Mythos will rule and your land will be freed. Let me raise my boy!"

Lejes took the pen and bent over to sign the parchment. "Alright, I will reunite you," he said through his teeth, and then with a swift motion he jammed the pen into her neck. The monk was a fraction of a second too late, grabbing the king's wrist after the end of the quill had pierced her artery.

"NO!" Mythos screamed, holding her as she gasped for air, blood spurting from her wound. Lejes wrestled free of the grip and smiled.

"How could you?" the monk stammered, astonished. He'd never known the king to act so savagely in his presence. He wasn't a butcher. Lejes had snapped, and the monk hadn't seen it coming.

The four ninja in the room stood in silence. They were used to death and knew her wound was mortal. To provide comfort for the dying was not their role, only to serve their god and their masters. Then, one of them stepped forward. He stood over Mythos, who was trying feverishly to stop her bleeding. Her skin was already turning pale and her breath was labored, but her eyes were still wide with fear and life.

"Rap her throat where the chest meets the neck," he said. "Put her out of consciousness. It is merciful."

"What?" Mythos cried. He didn't understand why they didn't help. He couldn't accept that she was dying in his arms. How could a simple pen end the life of his love?

"Hit her," he repeated, "it will make her pain stop." The ninja bent down and quickly thrust his thumb into her windpipe. Darien's eyes rolled back into her head, and her body went limp. She was breathing, but she was no longer feeling anything. Minutes later, the breathing stopped, and she was gone.

"All of you, out," Lejes commanded. "You may take the boy, but if he remains in my kingdom after tonight, I will kill him and anyone who travels with him. And I will also name Malagant my heir, so any attempt to claim the throne will be denied." He turned his icy stare to the grief stricken twenty year old cradling his dead lover. "You are dead."

"We will leave, but you are committed to this house for the length of year. I will make an announcement to your wife's passing from a premature birth and your grief, but if you leave your residence or if anyone enters, then the Arashi Shino-bi will kill you."

This decree took Lejes by surprise. Although he expected the monk to accept the fact the murder couldn't be successfully charged, he didn't expect the severity of the punishment. The two ninja that executed his guards made their way to his sides, flanking him like two deadly white shadows. He met the eyes of the monk, and knew that to challenge this ruling would end with him buried next to his bride under the guise of suicide. He'd crossed the line, and now he had to scramble back to save his life.

"I'll respect your wishes," he promised. "I'm sorry for my actions. I don't know what came over me. May St. Cuthbert forgive me."

"You lie and to evoke the name of my god is blasphemy," the monk growled. "You will hold no sway and your promises of death end now. If any harm comes to Mythos or Malagant, then I will reveal the truth of what happened here today to your peers in Northwind and your rivals in Dai-Rynn. Your kingdom will be set ablaze and your neck will be stretched in a noose."

Lejes gulped. "You can't."

"Try me."

The monk lifted Mythos by his arm to his feet, and led him out of the room with his two bodyguards in tow. The remaining two Talon guards kept their weapons drawn, not anxious to fight the remaining ninja, but knowing they would have to if Lejes ordered it. As the door slammed shut, Lejes moved to his guards and addressed his captors.

"You have no place here," he began. "Why do you follow the word of that simple Bengosha? He is not powerful. He is not wise. He is not even just. The boy should be lying in the same pool as that bitch."

The ninja who had helped her pass in peace spoke. "Do not speak of the events of this day. She died in childbirth and you are in mourning. If you deviate from that story, we will be forced to act."

"What do you care of the gossip of my kingdom?" Lejes retorted. "Once your precious judge has left, I will do as I please and you will allow it or die."

"Then you die first," the ninja replied, removing his sword from its sheath and holding it at the king's throat. "Your guards may rush me and my ally, and they may kill us eventually, but the poison on my blade will ensure you will join your wife in death but reside in your Hell for murderers." A hand came to rest on the shoulder of the ninja.

"Peace, brother," the other ninja pleaded. "The king has not been given justice today."

"Yes, noble warrior," Lejes agreed, sensing an opportunity. If the bold one wouldn't cooperate, then he may be able to get the other to betray him. "Lower your sword and listen to me. You need not serve those monks. You are not even tied to the same god! Serve me; I have riches beyond what you could imagine. You will serve me well in keeping my kingdom in order and distributing justice."

"You murder without cause or remorse," replied the smaller warrior, blade still inches from killing Lejes.

"As do we," replied his companion. "The Arashi Shino-bi are a shell of what they once were. We should serve a liege with a kingdom, not a bunch of monks with only philosophy to guide their actions. We should listen."

The other ninja turned. "No brother, it is blasphemy. Do not be tempted by his evil," he pleaded. The blade lowered and the ninja was tackled by Talon guards.

"Doku!" shouted his ally. His blade pierced the leg of one of the rushers and his other hand flung a shuriken into an oncoming guard wielding a crossbow. "Order his release!"

"Stop!" Lejes shouted. "No more blood. There are no enemies here." The injured guard limped away as the other removed the blade from his now useless shoulder. "Listen, I have a task for you. Prove your loyalty and I will make your clan rich enough to recruit talented warriors from every inch of my border and restore glory to your clan. If you refuse, then you will be allowed to leave in peace, but go you will."

He paused to make sure they were listening.

"Agree to kill my son," Lejes said. "I don't want you to raise arms against your fellow ninja, but once he is outside of their protection, end his life and I will reward you handsomely."

The ninja looked to each other. The smaller one shook his head. "No, Jasmath. Not for this liege. We will rebuild the clan together, but not like this. This is not the path our father taught us."

"Your father, Doku," the other replied, "my father couldn't be bothered with a son. This is the way. Our way. The Arashi Shino-bi way. Stay with me. Let us make this happen together."

"I will not murder this man's son for him," Doku replied.

"And I would murder a thousand sons for you, my brother," Jasmath countered.

"I'm sorry," Doku said, sliding his hand to his sword, intending to slay this tyrant where he stood and end this conflict.

"So am I," replied the other as Doku was sprung upon by several guards who had positioned themselves while they spoke. Doku was caught unaware and was beaten severely before he lost consciousness.

"Don't kill him, leave him to his monastery," Jasmath requested of his liege. "They serve a purpose, if only to legitimize your rule."

"True, my wise warrior," Lejes replied. "Then as a show of good faith to you, I will honor this first request. Now you are in my debt. For every deed you perform for me, I will honor another in gold or in favor. Agreed?"

"Agreed," the ninja replied. "I am Arashi Jasmath."

"Not anymore," Lejes replied. "You have outgrown that tired clan. Make your own destiny. You are sworn to me, and I will give you a name. Bow to me."

"But to forsake my clan is blasphemy," the ninja replied. The guards who were standing to each side of the ninja forced him to comply. Circling the kneeling warrior, Lejes spoke.

"You will no longer wear white. You will be clad in black. Your movements will only be seen by the crescent moon. You will be my eyes, my ears, and my instant retribution."

The king walked to his front and removed his mask. Lejes looked into the steely blue eyes of his newest minion. Returning the gaze was the perfect, stone cold killer.

"Rise," Lejes commanded. "Jasmath Shroud."

Not Again!

Bleeding and broken, the aasimar assessed his fate. The man facing him wore an iron mask of black, identical to his three slain brethren and his two still standing allies. He gripped a shield in his left hand and a thick longsword in his right. The blade was clouded with a thousand strikes against armor and other weapons, but its surface was as smooth as the day the magical steel was forged in a dwarven blacksmith's fires. This perfect blade was drawn back across the black knight's body and shimmered with Valestis's glistening blood. The previous blow had taken the paladin by surprise, cut through the chain mail around his neck, and opened a gash in his flesh. He knew the ensuing blow would end his life. Without the strength to defend himself; he looked into his killer's eyes through the slits of his mask. Meeting the black holes in the knight's mask with his own white, glowing eyes, Valestis laughed.

The killing blow came fast and then the knight was on to the next target, still trying to salvage their victory. Their captain, a Blackguard, was quickly dispatched by the monk and ranger a moment before. The much larger knight charged the monk who ducked under his blow and tripped him with a lightning reflex. Once down and defenseless, the two combatants beat him until he no longer moved. Once the celestial paladin had fallen, the dark knights thought they'd evened the field and may be able to turn the tide against the Heroes of Belfort. Now the numbers were even and it was a lightly armored ranger, monk, and rogue against the three of them. The ranger was already badly beaten, and the rogue wore a superficial cut on her hand when she was unable to dodge a blow while tumbling through their ranks. The monk, the one that almost single-handedly disabled their captain, was unharmed and moving in between them like a ghost. Only if they were able to surround him, would they be able to kill him as well.

"For the captain!" the dark knight screamed as he lunged at the ranger. The smaller man was quick with his hands. He'd been holding a bow, shooting at them from behind as they decimated his paladin ally, but now he brandished his intricate quarterstaff covered in magical spikes. With the sword still wet from Valestis's blood, he raised the weapon to strike the woodsman. A quick blow to the knight's chest from the ranger's staff knocked the wind out of him, causing his attack to fall harmlessly against a nearby column producing a shower of sparks. The subsequent blows from the ranger came like a hailstorm and dropped him to the ground, dead.

"Valestis!" Edea screamed. "Not again! Tymora please! Not again!"

"Focus on the knights, Edea!" Gun shouted, slipping behind a foe and rapping him on his armored head. "Help us who are alive before we all join him!"

She turned her attention to the closest foe. "Die, bastard!" she hissed, "SPINESHEATH!"

The sword she grasped began to quiver in her hand until the blade seemed like a shadow. The light in the room had not changed, but the knight she faced could no longer see where her blow would strike. He readied himself against the attack, but swung his shield to meet the blow too high, and felt the sting of metal through his breastplate and deep into his ribcage. He howled out in pain as the blade was pulled from inside him as quickly as it had entered and removed with it flesh, blood, and bone. The sound of his voice gargled with blood rising up in his throat. One more blow and he was dead.

With just one knight left to defeat, the three Heroes of Belfort surrounded him. He gasped and looked around at his fallen comrades. He knew that the hall had to be protected from them at all costs, and even if he managed to retreat and escape, he would likely be killed for his incompetence. A last battle cry roared from his dry throat as he lunged at the bloody ranger. With a deft step, the hero moved to the side and pummeled the last knight until he didn't move. The battle was over, and the dark knights were dead.

The three rushed over to Valestis's body. Tarin felt for a heart beat and leaned in over his face to feel for a breath. He found neither. Gun began to dress his injuries as quickly as he could, but although he'd been gone for less than a minute, the wounds were already running dry. Edea stood well back, beginning to sob. She had been so worried about Tarin, fending off two and three knights in no more than a breast plate of armor, swinging wildly with his staff with his back against the wall, that when Valestis fell she was utterly shocked. This mountain of a warrior, a man touched by the gods with his snow white hair and colorless eyes, had fallen for a second time in her presence and she felt responsible.

"Not again," she cried. Tarin struggled to his feet. He knew that one of the bones in his leg was broken and probably in his hand and arm, but he had fought on. His face was bloodied and bruised, but unlike his friend who lay still on the ground, Tarin was still alive. He hugged Edea, partially for comfort and partially for support. She felt his breath, ragged against her chest. He could be dying as well, but he'd never say it.

"Talk to me," she pleaded. "Tarin, don't go. Talk to me."

"I'm here, my sprite," he whispered. "I have no desire to meet Medeva's god today. One soul is enough of a sacrifice, I think."

"We will take him to Dycannus," Gun announced, starting to strip away the plates of armor from the paladin's body. "I will carry him the whole way. Sir Bane's power can bring him back to us."

"I'm in no position to fight, Gunshin," Tarin said. "We'll need you to get us back home before we are beset by more of these evil minions."

"We can't leave him here," Gun demanded, "This is a hall of evil. We may not have faced the undead here, but you can be sure they are nearby. To allow our ally to fall to the enemy is unacceptable."

"He can't be turned," Edea said, remembering one of her talks with the paladin. After he'd returned from the continent of Faerun, he'd told her of his journey to the other world and of his gifts upon his return. Among them was a permanent mark, like ink on his skin, which symbolized his god Kelemvor, lord of the dead. That mark prevented him from ever becoming an undead abomination.

"But that doesn't mean the humans here won't burn him in effigy."

"They will find that my flesh doesn't burn easily," said a voice from the floor. Astonished, Edea lost her hold on Tarin who collapsed to the ground. They all wheeled to see the glow back in Valestis's eyes, which were staring at them.

"By my eyes!" Gunshin exclaimed. "How in the Nine Hells?"

"It has nothing to do with Hell, my good monk," the paladin assured him. "It seems my lord knows me only too well. Although he didn't bother to tell me, he did prepare me for a moment like this."

"For your death?" Edea cried out. "You were turning cold. How did this happen?"

"Like this," he said, revealing his chest. The mark of Kelemvor was gone. "I've used my 'get out of death free' card. At least I had time to receive a message from my lord."

"What did he say," asked the monk solemnly.

"He told me to be more careful," Valestis laughed.

"You!" Edea shouted at him. "You had me thinking you were dead and that I was to blame again! I was thinking about Tarin and not keeping my eye on all of you. And you joke? You troll's tit!"

"I accept your apology, little pretty rogue," Valestis returned, rolling to his side and using his weakened arms to push him into a sitting position.

"Are you able to heal yourself?" ask Gun, working his way over to the fallen warrior to help him to his feet.

"I don't think so," Valestis grunted. "Maybe Duncan can help. Everything still hurts."

"Tell me about it," Tarin concurred. He still sat in a heap where Edea had let him fall.

"Oh, babe," she said, wrapping her hands under his arms and helping him back to his feet. As he regained his footing, they heard a thumping at one of the doorways.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Valestis commanded.

With Gun supporting Valestis, and Edea helping Tarin, they struggled to get outside the building's doors. More creatures hid behind each doorway and it wouldn't take much more than a glancing blow from a goblin's mace to kill Tarin or Valestis. Edea stopped next to two of the fallen knights and stooped down.

"What are you doing, woman?" Tarin scowled, having to keep himself upright on his staff.

"You think healing draughts and fancy armor falls from the sky?" she said condescendingly. "I'm taking these swords to sell when we get back."

"We're not going to get back if you don't help me flee this deathtrap!" he admonished. She could hear fear in his voice for the first time since they'd met. In the face of a dozen battles and hundred foes, she'd never heard a quiver in his voice. After the beating the knights had given him, although he survived, he was afraid.

"Alright," she relented, sheathing three of the swords into her belt. She supported his weight again and helped him limp out the door. Once outside, they braced it shut from the outside. It wasn't likely the evil within would come outside anyway, since Dycannus had previously visited each of the unholy temples and consecrated the grounds outside. They activated their magical token and were instantly whisked several hundred miles to Belfort, and safety.

------

"I don't understand," muttered Duncan. He'd cast and recast every healing magic he knew of, from those that mended scratches to the same spell that had reattached his severed arm many years ago. Nothing was working on his friend lying on the litter in front of him. "Why the hell can't I heal your celestial ass?"

"I can't say," Valestis admitted. "Trust me, it's not my doing. I want you to make it all better."

"Maybe you should let another healer try," suggested Tarin. Duncan had worked on him first and healed all of his bruises and gashes as easily as Tarin had earned them. Small scars still held on the surface of his skin, but they would fade in a matter of weeks, leaving only memories of the battle with the dark knights.

"No," Valestis protested. "Duncan is the best. If his power has no hold, then no one's will. Obviously my lord wants me on my back for a time, to ponder the gift he's given me."

"Then I will take your place," Duncan stated, gathering his weapons at the door of the room. "We will leave at sunrise, re-armed and re-focused on toppling this last obstacle."

"No you won't," Valestis promised. "You will not return to that hall of evil without me. Those mercenaries focused on me for a reason. They are specially trained and they struck with a military precision. We don't need to treat this like another dungeon altar. Your holy symbol won't turn these creatures to a pile of dust and ash."

"Perhaps not, but maybe my blade will find more bite than yours," Duncan said half- joking and half-serious. He had his doubts of Valestis' focus over the last several weeks. The paladin seemed distant at times, thinking of matters other than those at hand. Tarin and Edea lauded his bravery during their missions, and he knew first-hand that the knight was a great warrior, but a wandering mind could easily bring death. His suspicion was furthered by Tarin's account of Valestis laughing just before the mortal blow was struck.

"His focus was pure," Gunshin volunteered. "We were all of one mind to defeat the enemy. Not only did we nearly lose two of our number to the opposition, but there were who knows how many more waiting to strike from behind the next set of doors. They did not attack, and we must be aware that they did not. There must be a reason."

The ranger-knight put a hand on Duncan's shoulder. "I agree with them, my friend," he said. "Never have Edea or I fought an opponent so well armed or trained. Even I, who have studied man for his weaknesses and frailties, could find none in these combatants. It was like fighting Sivora, only with a blackened soul."

"Why would such soldiers side with such evil?" Sivora asked. "Money is one thing, but to be trained as such they must have a commander, a home, and a code. Where is their honor?"

"They are of the mind that follows orders and nothing else," Tarin replied. "I have despised such men all my life, and have put into the ground several who could not be reasoned with."

"Siv," Edea said, "if you or Duncan had been there, we might have dragged out more corpses. They concentrated on Valestis because he wore the most armor and presented the most threat. Gun and I were practically ignored, but those who watched the battle from the cracks in the doors will know better for the next time."

"Then we go in force," Sivora said. "It's the only way. We have made it this far together, let us all take this battle to them."

"If they can defeat our combined strength, then let them have this world," Tarin agreed.

"But you will not leave without me," Valestis demanded. "Who will tell your story to Kelemvor and convince him not to banish you to the Nine Hells?"

"Just rest, my friend," Duncan commanded, placing a firm hand on the wounded paladin's shoulder and forcing him back to prone. "We will be back to visit you after you have recovered."

"Yes," Sivora agreed. "Besides, if it is soldiers that we will fight, then there are some things you could all learn from me."

"That's not a bad idea, Red," Duncan agreed. "Not a bad idea at all. A little education might tip the scales."

"Hey sprite," Sivora said to the rogue, using Tarin's new nickname for her which she found adorable. "How about you tell me everything that dragon trap of a brain remembers about these knights. Maybe between you and me and the library we can figure out who trained them and how to bury their asses."

"It's a deal, cow," she replied with a playful bitterness. "Besides, I'm sure Tarin has to rest up before I kick his ass for almost getting killed."

"Move over, aasimar!" Tarin roared. "I'm going to need that cot more than you!"

"Ow, woodsman, that hurts!" Valestis cried out, holding his arm where Tarin had pushed him. He was much weaker than he'd let on. Tarin's mock shove felt like it snapped bone. "Leave me be, but if you use that device, I'll tell my god to leave you in the abyss."

"Fair enough," Duncan said. "Let's go." Before he left, he touched Valestis once more on the head. "I'm glad I didn't have to call you back to us. Tell me, why did you laugh, at the end. Did you think you were immortal?"

"I had to laugh, my brother in arms," Valestis recounted, "because I knew I was going to die."

"I won't let that happen again." Duncan promised.

"Fair enough," Valestis agreed, and closed his eyes for a long sleep.

------

When he awoke, he wasn't sure where he was or what time of day was upon him. He did notice that he wasn't alone. He lay on his back with a nightshirt covering him and his blankets strewn across the floor. He was wet from sweat, probably a fever and infection that his body was not used to fighting off. Lying on his outstretched arm was a delicate head of blonde hair. Rising above the golden locks was a perfect, pointed ear. Raina had evidently snuck into his hospital bed and made herself comfortable by his side. She was dressed for bed, so he deduced that it must still be night. She lay with her back to him, her shape now discernable with his perfect night vision. His eyes traced the dip in her waist and the rise of her hips. Just below her knees, her skin reappeared from below her soft blue nightdress.

She stirred slightly at the change in his breathing. He quickly shut his eyes and tried to steady his breath. He felt her roll over into his chest and nuzzle. She made a quiet groan as she tried to get comfortable. A hand rose up from her side and began to trace his muscles under his shirt. She was awake and she was rubbing his chest! Even at full strength of will, he probably would not have been able to control his heart from racing. When men painted or sung of angels, it was Raina they described. He'd had a terrible crush on her for months, and now he debated with himself how long he could feign sleep and enjoy her touch, fearful that if he 'awoke' she would get embarrassed and quickly leave. He let out a small sigh, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Did you think you were fooling me?" she whispered to his ribcage. Her voice was usually strong, but now it was almost like a spring breeze carries the words away just before he could hear them. "I haven't slept since the moment I came in here."

"What…" he started before he choked and had to clear his throat. He rolled his eyes at himself; quite sure he could screw up hitting the water after falling from a boat as long as Raina was nearby. "What have you been doing?"

"Listening to your heart, making sure it didn't stop," she said, still not bringing her face out of his side. Her hand continued to caress him, much to his pleasure. "Listening to your breathing. I can almost hear your skin knit together your wounds. It's almost as if I can hear the dreams in your head. I guess that is my racial blessing." At this last statement, she moved her hand from his chest to her hair and re-exposed her elven ears. First she lifted her head to sweep the hair from underneath and lay one ear on his exposed bicep, then she tucked her hair behind her other so he could see the profile of her exquisite face.

"You are beautiful," Valestis said absentmindedly. He couldn't help it. She made his heart ache with her high cheeks, perfect chin, and although they were closed, he could see her deep brown eyes as he had a hundred times in his dreams.

"Why do men say that?" she asked. "It's not original at all."

"If I could invent a language that had never been spoken and could not be repeated, then, maybe, I could put into words the way a man feels when he takes in your beauty." Valestis was shocked that what he meant to say actually came out in a coherent statement. She smiled to confirm that he wasn't imagining it.

"That was original," she admitted. She cracked her eyes open, but still stared into his side. Her hand found its way to his hip and rested lightly. "I shouldn't have let you go without me."

"No," he started, but she didn't stop.

"I felt it was wrong. Gun is bigger and stronger, but I can protect you. I can protect you all. Duncan is the chosen one, Sivora is a warrior, and Gun is spiritual, but only I can protect you. I won't let it happen. Not again."

"Rain," Valestis finally interrupted. He had never used Edea's pet name for her except when he talked to Aerie about her. Something about pure, life-giving water descending from the heavens seemed to emulate her innocence and beauty, and yet the same substance could destroy crops, buildings, and literally drown the life from you. It fit her so perfectly. "It's not your job to protect me, uh, us."

"Then why am I here?" she asked, finally looking him in the eye. Her gaze didn't waver when it met his colorless eyes. Only Tia had ever looked upon him in such a nonchalant manner. Most others squirmed, even those who he was not judging.

"You are important, but you can't appoint yourself as our protector," he explained. "Things will happen. Death will happen. If it does, you can't let it destroy you. I know this. You must learn from my mistake. I haven't been given an escape from death; I've been given another chance at life."

"Don't leave me again," she ordered him.

"I'll try my best," he promised.

"How weak are you?" she asked.

"Why, are there ash vampires at the door?" the paladin joked, then looked to make sure there weren't.

"No, I'm just wondering how much longer you'll need me," she said, cuddling back down into his arms.

"I think I needed you before I was ever hurt," Valestis said.

"No, you'll go away when this is done," she told him. "You'll find another cause, another threat, another weak little maid to rescue."

"I like strong women," he said, knowing she was referring to his continued affection for Tia, the common girl he rescued and for a time was involved with.

"Bullshit," she shot back. "You like 'em grateful and submissive."

"Then why do I like you?" he asked.

"Because I'm beautiful," she quoted. "And I look like I'm easy."

"That is the last word I would use to describe you," he said.

"I've had over one hundred men," she told him, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "I'm over two hundred years old. Did you think I was saving myself for some celestial to walk into my life and pop my cherry?"

"Rain," he said.

"Don't call me that," she replied, coldly. He didn't understand the change in her, but she no longer felt warm to him.

"I'm sorry, Raina," he apologized.

"Well, I suppose you want me to strip off my gown and make you my one hundred first?" she said accusingly. She got to her feet and stood over him. He must have not rested all that long, because he was still too weak to move quickly.

"I'd prefer if you'd wait until I could enjoy it," he replied honestly, his pain drawing away his couth.

"What if I want to enjoy it?" she said. "You're too weak to fight me off." She reached down to take a hold of him. "Say what you want, but your anatomy tells a different tale."

"I don't want this. I don't like you like this," he told her, pushing her hand away. "Why are you being this way?"

She removed her dress, standing naked in his vision.

"Don't you want me now?" she asked.

"I don't want you like this," he reaffirmed.

"Other men would kill for me to stand before them like this, offering my body, but not the righteous paladin!" she said mockingly. "Why the hell can't I get laid by you?"

"Raina," he said softly. "Why are you doing this?"

"Don't look at me like that. I don't know how to act," she said, angry. She gathered up her gown and covered the front of her while she sat on the corner of the bed. He could feel the skin of her backside resting against his leg. "I'm not two hundred, I'm barely twenty, but no one can tell. I've got this body that men want to molest, and I still think I would rather play with dolls than be made into one. My mind feels like it is trapped between a happy child and a miserable adult. It's the same with my powers. I could call down a fireball to destroy this house right now… there would be nothing left, but then I'd have no home! Why? Why am I so confused? Why is it so hard?"

She was crying hard now, letting the tears stream from her face without restraint. She was talking to him, but really talking over him. He didn't know she had these thoughts, these emotions, and they were probably too embarrassing to share with their confident women friends Edea or Sivora. Ironically, Tia could probably understand the best, being forced into an adult role at so young and age, but each of their feelings for him stood in the way of any friendship they might form. He lifted a hand to her face and she buried her cheek against it.

"I've looked at rough and scary men, enticed by their danger and horrified by it as well. Why do I do it? Can you tell me? Why am I always thinking of you when I know that the day will come when you'll be gone and I'll be sad?"

"I can't explain what it's like to be a half-elf," he began. "I will live the life of a man; while you will see all of us grow old, die, and then go on to exist into another lifetime. I am jealous because you have been given longevity to see more of the world than I ever could, but I am sad that you will lose those you love over and over."

"I love you all," she said, still sobbing. "I don't want any of you to die."

"Come here," he said, gathering her to him. Her small body fit onto his easily. She was still naked from the back, but her dress shielded the flesh of their bodies from touching. He stroked her hair, innocently comforting her, while she cried.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I tried to trick you."

"It's alright," he told her. Her tears seemed to stop and she just lay quietly on top of him. They lay that way for several minutes, listening to each other's breath. Valestis lost himself in her smell of her hair and the feel of her weight on him. He dozed lightly, exhausted from his injuries and their encounter. Then, a sound startled him back to consciousness. The door was moving. Raina did not stir as the door opened. The light from several candles bled into the room. Too weak to scramble for the covers, Valestis just looked to see who entered. From behind the candelabra, he could make out Tia's face. In the light of the room, she could easily make out Raina's naked body on top of Valestis. The candles dropped from her hand in shock as she scrambled back to her room. Raina leapt up and used her nightdress to extinguish the flames.

"Crazy waif!" she yelled.

"Oh crap," Valestis exclaimed.

"What, do you really think that she thought we fucked?" Raina asked.

"Look at yourself," he said. She was standing in all her naked glory with her hands on her hips.

"Shit," she said embarrassed. "I guess there's not another way to take it."

She sat back on the bed, rubbing the paladin's hair.

"If she's going to tell everyone anyway," Raina began. Valestis laughed and pulled her down to him.

"Don't think that didn't cross my mind!" he chuckled as he hugged her neck.

"Oh! Oh! Oh, my paladin!" she yelled in false ecstasy. "Take me like you do your mount!"

"Stop it girl!" he chided. He let go of his embrace and let out a deep breath. He just wanted to sleep. "I'm tired. Let me heal."

"Do you mind if I stay?" she asked, lying across him, still bare to the world.

"At least get the blanket," he said.

"But you get so hot when you sleep," she complained. "I was thinking of taking off my dress about an hour ago."

"An hour?" he asked, "How long have you been here?" She blushed.

"Since yesterday afternoon," she admitted. "You've been sleeping for three days."

"By the gods," he exclaimed, beginning to sit up. She leaned all of her weight against him until he collapsed back down.

"Not yet," she said. "Maybe tomorrow you can get up." She fell back to the place on his arm where she was snuggled before. He rolled slightly to bring his other arm around to hold her. She purred into his chest, closing her eyes. "Hmm, keep me warm."

"My pleasure," he agreed. Sleep was taking hold of him fast. Her skin felt so cool and soft under his touch. She snaked a hand out from under his and pulled his hand from her waist to her behind. His palm nearly engulfed her entire cheek. She returned her arm to his chest.

"Better," she cooed, more telling than asking.

"Yes," he replied dreamily, not realizing the difference. If Kelemvor decided to take back his gift and take him to death, Valestis quickly prayed it would be before he woke again so this would be his last mortal memory.

"Good-night, sweet prince," she whispered, drifting off to sleep herself.

"Good-night, Rain. Uh, Raina," he said, forgetting her earlier demand.

"You can call me Rain," she said. "I like it…Val."

They lay together and in spite of their appearance, innocently drifted off to sleep. Valestis knew when he awoke there would be the pain of recovery, the pain of dealing with Tia, and eventually the pain of battle, but with the dreamy sorceress's soft butt cupped in his hand and his nose buried in her silky blonde hair, there could be no pain tonight.

As he'd assumed, when daylight came and he opened his eyes again, she was gone, and he felt pain. He closed his eyes and tried to bring her back with his mind, but it didn't work. His heart felt like an empty hole, and he was in pain. No, he was in love.

"Not again." He murmured, smiling to himself. Love was good. He knew when he came back to this plane that he needed to love, and he wanted to as well. Marai had loved him, and he also cared for her, but not like he did for Raina. She was wild and he was wild about her. The hole in his chest filled a little with this revelation. He decided to let himself be in love. Why not? Then the door opened and a too familiar face was poking through. Wet brown eyes and mussed brown hair was clearly visible. Tia probably hadn't slept since she found him with the elf, and obviously she'd been crying all night.

"Oh shit," he thought, the smile disappearing. It was too soon to think about this now. Why did she have to show up now? "Not again!"

That was a Ceremony

"Father, mother, I want you to meet Sivora," Dycannus said in an official tone. He stood in a fine white silk shirt, new pants, and his sword, Glorius, strapped to his waist. Standing across from him was his father Sir Jammel Bane, dressed in ceremonial red armor with a blue cape and his own sword hanging from his hip. His arm was outstretched with his wife's hand resting softly on it. Lady Jenna Bane was dressed in a gold dress with a red sash dyed to match her husband's armor perfectly. The pair looked as much like royalty as the king and queen who looked on from their thrones.

Sivora Landrin did not grow up poor, but she did grow up humble. Born to a comfortable living in Rimule, she had always idolized her father's clientele, the various knights, lords, and adventurers that bought his armor and armaments. Her mother was very pretty for a small town wife of a blacksmith, and from her Sivora inherited her spirit and fiery red hair. Gifted with an athletic physique and a strategic mind, Sivora was born to fight and lead. She was comfortable in makeshift tents on the edge of a battlefield, sleeping in studded leather armor in case a surprise attack was launched in the night, but she wasn't ready for this. She wore a dress of white to match Duncan's shirt and sewn into the skirt was an intertwined sword and shield, the symbol of a Swordwraith. She did not wear her sword, as it was three quarters the length of a man and would have dwarfed the men standing near her. She was to be presented as a lady, and it was the one thing she never thought she'd grow up to be.

Although Jammel Bane and his wife Jenna had very un-royal backgrounds, they were as respected as any king and queen in the land. It was well known that the paladin's best friend, King Duncan Belois, had offered him at least three different kingdoms during his twenty-five year reign as king and high king, but each time Bane turned the commission down in favor of serving the king at his court and fighting in his army. He never held an official rank, but every general knew that they were to heed his council as if it came from King Duncan himself. So close were the couples, that Dycannus was named for his own ancestor, but called Duncan after the king, who was also his godfather. Dycannus and the king's son, Artorius, were as close as brothers and it was not unusual for them to call the other's parents "mother" and "father".

While Jammel held a high place in the king's council, Jenna was content with a much more quiet existence. She raised Dycannus and Artorius for years while Jammel and the king and queen were called away on affairs of state. Before she married Jammel, she was a simple farmer's daughter across the ocean. Her village was several miles north of Neverwinter, on the outskirts of the Spine of the World. When she was fifteen, an avalanche struck her village on the outskirts and it was completely buried. Trapped in a building under several feet of snow, Jenna took charge of the others in the building, calming the women and children and encouraging the men to help her find a way to freedom. They dug themselves out for two days, only to find their entire town was destroyed and no one else, including Jenna's parents, had survived. They hiked for several miles with limited supplies to Kuldahar, where they were welcomed and sheltered by the druid who watched over the Tree of Life. All of the survivors credited her with their lives.

The paladin lines of Belois have strong ties with paladin families in Neverwinter, and when the story reached Avalon, Jammel left to lend a hand to help the refugees settle in a new area. He was also intrigued by this woman, whose name was being lauded as a hero. When he met her he was expecting a legend, but she was not much more than a slip of a farm girl who possessed strength of will that Bane had only encountered in warriors and kings. He immediately fell in love with her spirit and after his work was done, he whisked her back to Avalon to marry her. She still spent her days tending gardens at their home, and although she was fond of her memories of Faerun, she believes that Avalon is where that fated avalanche was meant to lead her.

Sivora knew the stories of Duncan's parents and was in awe even though she was not easily intimidated. She tended to treat everyone like they put their underwear on in the morning without the help of a servant, and she was aware she acted too common in times that required elegance. She looked stunning in the dress and the gathered crowd thought so as well; confirmed by the excited murmurs that rose from the sea of people. She knew that Duncan loved her and was literally willing to die for her, so she hung onto his arm for protection from the eyes of the onlookers and the possible disapproval of his parents. She had actually been dreading this ceremony, begging Duncan to introduce her to them over a mug of mead and a bowl of Sheppard's Pie, but he said that he was too proud of her to ever let her be embarrassed, and he'd prove it to her with an engagement ceremony that she would never forget in a hundred lifetimes.

After he spoke her introduction, she removed her arm from his and extended a quivering hand to Sir Jammel. He took it lightly and kissed it formally, the touch of skin barely registering on the back of her course hand that was often covered in blood and ash on the battlefield. She then turned to Lady Jenna and began to bow, then caught herself and deftly curtsied. Duncan's mother smiled, catching the near slipup, and returned the courtesy by kneeling exactly as deep as Sivora. The lady warrior again took Duncan's arm, trembling, and tried to slow her heart. She was deathly afraid she might begin to lose her breath and pass out.

"With your permission?" Duncan asked his father. Sir Jammel nodded his head. Duncan turned to his lover, his cape swirling behind him, and knelt to one knee. Since this was a ceremony, everything was precisely planned, but Sivora was still nervous. Their engagement had happened when they were both much more undressed than they were now and the celebration afterwards would not have been proper to share in front of a crowd of thousands. He had asked for the ring he'd given her back, so he could present it to her again before the king, queen, and the world. Despite the sliver of doubt that told her she'd never see it again, she agreed.

As the younger paladin knelt, Lady Jenna walked over next to Sivora. She was easily a head shorter and although she was old enough to be her mother, she was still very smooth of face and pretty. Her eyes were a soft blue and gray and her straw-colored blonde hair had just begun to show signs of silver. She extended her hand to her son, who kissed it before removing the ring. It was resized for Sivora's larger hand already, so Jenna had to pinch her fingers together to keep her old heirloom from slipping off. Sir Jammel stood to the other side of Sivora at attention. Duncan held the ring aloft and loudly asked for her hand in marriage. As she had before, she accepted with an enthusiastic affirmation.

The crowd, including the king and queen, erupted in applause. The royal couple stood from their thrones, which brought the courtyard to another level of sonic approval. Tamizander Kerensky, a close friend and talented bard, led the king's players in a tune of celebration that could barely be heard over the ovation. Sivora was not usually moved to tears, but as she did the first time, she cried now. Losing her inhibition of the moment, she dropped to her knees to throw her arms around her fiancée and kissed him hard. He returned her embrace and forgot about everything else. Her new in-laws clapped for their daughter and her excitement, sharing a smile and a memory of their own newlywed love. The engaged couple stood, arm in arm, and waved to the crowd, drawing another roar. When the noise died down, the queen returned to her seat, but King Duncan remained standing. Raising his hand for quiet, he spoke.

"I have known this man since he was an infant," he said in his unique accent, with gravel and sincerity in his voice. "In my life I have known but a handful that could match his purity of heart, strength of character, and wisdom. As a child, he often taught me of life and innocence as I taught him of battle and leadership. He is second only to my own son in my heart. As for his choice in a partner, I believe he has chosen as wisely as I trusted he would. Sivora Landrin comes from a fine parentage in Northwind and she is as capable a leader and warrior as she is beautiful, which is in no doubt for those of you with sight. I have asked that they share this time with us so I could present them and all of you with an engagement gift. Each have pledged their swords and hearts to Belois and Dai-Rynn, and today I will knight them into the service of the high throne."

The crowd couldn't wait for the words to finish, erupting in applause. Duncan and Sivora, along with their comrades, were already very famous in Dai-Rynn. As allies to Prince Arthur, they were singularly responsible for fighting off a tide of evil in the form of zombies, vampires, and eternal twilight that plagued the continent. Even kings and queens in other kingdoms owed them a great debt for saving thousands of people they'd never met and even losing their own friends fighting the scourge. It was rumored that they were close to the source of the ancient evil and preparing to stamp it out forever. The couple of honor waved to the crowd in thanks. Their friends had already been knighted by the prince in the service of Belois, but the king himself had requested that Duncan and Sivora be knighted as protectors of Dai-Rynn.

The couple approached, hand in hand, to the king's throne. This part of the ceremony was much more comfortable, although Sivora wished she could be wearing her armor. But, as Duncan told her, it didn't do enough to flatter her exquisite body, and she liked to hear that a lot. Unsheathing his sword, Duncan handed it to the king with both hands. He and Sivora had decided to both be knighted with his sword, Glorius, as it was a gift to him and a symbol of his god, Heironeous, whom Sivora also now followed. The god was often said to wield a longsword bathed in electricity that was a bane to evildoers. When the Glorius was used in battle, it often discharged energy into its victims that crackled with lightning and it stung the wicked more than normal steel. Even the pommel was specially engraved with Heironeous' holy symbol.

Duncan knelt first, while Sivora remained standing. The king took the hilt of the sword in his hand and raised it so the crowd could behold the weapon.

"Do you swear to protect the land and people of Dai-Rynn, human, elf, and dwarf alike, and forever defend it from enemies that threaten her?"

"I will, your majesty."

"And do you swear to serve your king without reservation, always answering his call when it serves justice and right?"

"I do, your majesty."

"And finally, do you now swear loyalty to your queen, promising to protect her from danger and dishonor as long as she shall live?"

"I do, your majesty."

The sword touched each of Duncan's shoulders. Without a word or noise from the crowd, Duncan remained on his knees and bowing and Sivora knelt beside him. She met the king's earnest gaze and listened intently to his words. She took each of them into her heart, knowing they would forever define her. This was a moment she'd lived for her entire life, and now it was happening. Even more than a wife, she wanted to be a knight.

"Sivora, do you swear to protect the land and people of Dai-Rynn, human, elf, and dwarf alike, and forever defend it from enemies that threaten her?"

"As long as I live, I do your majesty."

"And do you swear to serve your king without reservation, always answering his call when it serves justice and right?"

"As long as blood runs through my veins, I will your majesty."

"And finally, do you now swear loyalty to your queen, promising to protect her from danger and dishonor as long as she shall live?"

"As long as I draw breath, I will your majesty."

Again, the sword lightly touched each shoulder. This time, there was no sound from the crowd. There were but a handful of knights that served the high king and not one of his lords. Not a person in attendance wanted to miss a moment of this ceremony, as it may not come again for many years. Men, women, and children strained to hear and see. This moment that Duncan and Sivora shared with each other would be a well recited family tale for a thousand people they would never know.

"Please rise, Lady Sivora Landrin," the king commanded. A bit surprised she was to be presented first, it took a second for her to make her muscles react. She gracefully stood and faced the king. "You are now a Knight Protector of the High Kingdom of Dai-Rynn. I have complete faith that you will not only live up to, but enhance the title that you will carry." The queen approached, kissed Sivora on each cheek, and placed a purple sash over her head and across her chest. Sivora blushed, as she wasn't informed of any part of the ceremony after the kneeling before the king. The queen turned her around to face the crowd, and Sivora was finally able to take in the thousands that had gathered to witness the event. She was awestruck as they immediately cheered her feverishly. She laid a hand on Duncan's shoulder where he was still kneeling with his head bowed beside her. When the crowd stopped, the king continued.

"And now, my godson, please rise, Sir Dycannus Bane," King Duncan proudly announced. "You are now Knight Protector of the High Kingdom of Dai-Rynn. I know you, like your fiancée, will bring honor and pride to me as your liege and your kingdom as its champions." The queen repeated her part in the ceremony with a kiss and the sash, but she added a hug and a whisper to Duncan's ear. The crowd cheered loudly as she presented him to the audience. Moving between the couple, the king held the Glorius by its blade. He reached for each of their hands with his free hand and had them take the hilt of the sword. They looked at each other and raised it above their head simultaneously. As if in approval of this union, lightning cracked in the clear blue sky and a clap of thunder rolled loudly across the land. Duncan and Sivora laughed.

"Our god is pleased, milady," he shouted over the crowd.

Sivora looked for Duncan's parents, but did not see them where they stood before. She quickly found them escorting another man and woman to the stage. Her eyes welled up with tears when she saw who they were with.

"Mom! Dad!" she screamed and ran to them. Dwarfing her parents, she hugged them like children. Duncan sheathed the sword and clapped along with the king, queen and the rest of their subjects. Sivora's sister, Aisha, waited patiently for her turn, and then embraced her sister as hard as her blacksmith muscles could squeeze.

"Way to go, baby girl!" she yelled into Sivora's ear.

"You've made us so proud," her father said through a thick stream of tears. "So proud."

"You looked like a queen up there, cherry-top," her mom said, calling her by her childhood nickname. Sivora was weeping like she hadn't in her memory. The only missing piece to her life was the family she was forced to leave behind in Rimule, her home from which she was banished for following her heart and trying to serve justice. Now she had them, here, on the grandest day of her life. They wouldn't have to hear the tale; they saw it with their own eyes and heard it with their own ears. She reached out for Duncan, and he was immediately by her side.

"Duncan, this is my family," she shouted over the still cheering crowd.

"I am so very pleased to meet you all," Duncan said, kissing her sister and mother and bowing to her father before being wrapped up in a hearty hug.

"Son's don't bow, sons gotta hug!" he yelled. Duncan laughed sharply as the air escaped his lungs. Landrin had a blacksmith's strength too and Duncan wasn't ready for it. His own parents exchanged pleasantries, although they had clearly had a hand in bringing her family from the hostile land of Rimule to Silverbow, a half a world away.

"Thank you Sir and Lady Bane," Sivora said, curtsying to them. She was also surprised at the reaction. Both of them grabbed her in a three-way hug and about injured her ribs.

"If sons have to hug, then so do daughters," they said nearly in unison. The crowd closest to them and privy to their exchange started a laugh that rolled through the crowd like a wave. Prince Artorius walked over to them from where his parents were standing. He wore a proud smile on his face.

"Arthur," Sivora greeted in his more common name, "come and meet my parents."

"We've met, milady," the prince revealed, exchanging greetings with her family. Sivora stood shocked that it was the prince who pulled off this surprise, but it made sense. He was always thinking of his friends, and he loved Duncan and Sivora like no other. "Let us retire to the great hall and toast this great day. I promise the food will only be rivaled by the wedding that your parents are planning."

Sivora and Duncan couldn't keep their hands off each other and embraced and kissed in front of their god and everyone. Everyone shared a soft applause and Kerensky started up the band again. It was a sweet and passionate kiss between two people that didn't have a single care in the world. The safety of the kingdom lay in their capable hands and they were full of hope for the future, which gave everyone hope as well. The king and queen retired first, then the Landrins and Banes, and then the crowd was dismissed except for a band of well-dressed adventurers. They were escorted to the hall by royal guards with the rest of the honored lords and guests.

Once inside and seated, Duncan and Sivora were approached by a queue of well-wishers. First up, by their request, were their friends and compatriots. Valestis Medeva, the aasimar paladin, Raina Jade, the half-elf sorceress, and Mathias Gold, the captain of the guard in Belfort that they all called home, were first. Valestis had been a friend of Duncan's for the last two years and was essentially the reason the two met. Raina was a fellow adventurer, but was never far from the paladin's side as of late. Mathias made the trip although he was rarely away from his newborn son and pretty wife. Next up was Sir Tarin Blackblade-McLeod and Edea Randalin. Tarin had known Duncan and they had not always gotten along, but they had always respected one another and now were very close. Edea was also someone who was hard to get close to, but Sivora was as much of a big sister and a real hero as she had ever had. Tarin was knighted under the Prince and served the family's land, Belois. He was a ranger/knight, a very rare and special warrior. He and Edea were very obviously a couple, but they were also very private and neither confirmed nor denied their involvement. Such a ceremony as this would never happen for these two. The only confirmation they might ever let slip of a future marriage might be Edea's pregnant belly, but that would be a day long from now.

Zander took a long enough break from music to share a kiss with Sivora and a handshake with Duncan. He had struck up a close kinship with the prince and was less and less a part of their everyday life, but he was still a part of their long history as a group and a friend. Gunshin Bengosha, the solemn monk from the Stormcloud monastery on the border of Rimule, was also there to extend his congratulations. He encouraged them to believe in their love and not just the convenience of their attraction, and was their counselor and confident. So many familiar faces from Belfort walked past that Sivora joked that the town would probably be invaded by the time they returned. After the familiar faces came the lords and ladies of Dai-Rynn, with titles ranging from king to baron. They were unfamiliar, but now they were a part of their lives and obligation to serve and protect. Each of them made a fleeting impression, to be reinforced when their paths crossed again.

Finally, it was time to eat and drink and visit with their family. Sivora sat between Duncan and his parents, at their request, so they could talk to their daughter-in-law to be. Sivora's dad sat on the other side of Duncan, joking and slapping his newest family member and sharing more than a few toasts in his honor. Lady Jenna and Sivora found a quick kinship and the warrior found out quickly why she was so beloved by all that met her. She was real and honest and reminded her a lot of her own mother sitting a few seats away. Sir Jammel was also humble and kind, like his son, and soft-spoken. She offered up a toast to him and his wife, but like several paladins, he chose not to drink mead or wine as a sign of faith to his god. Jenna shared the toast though, as did Duncan, and Jammel replied in kind with a heartfelt thank you.

Although the party wasn't as wild as the ones in Belfort at Prince Arthur's manor, it was a fine affair. The king and queen were, of course, natural and gracious hosts. They mingled throughout the room, meeting and speaking at length with anyone who asked for their ear. Some political affairs were discussed, but mostly they kept the spirit of celebration flowing through the hall. They spent several minutes with Sivora's family, talking at length and making them feel very comfortable. It was a gesture that touched Sivora, but really didn't surprise her because of how they raised their son and godson. She thanked each many times for their grace and their gift of knighthood and a party. Here eyes had not shed so many tears in two of her lifetimes.

At the end of the night, Duncan and Sivora retired to their room. A tradition among the more free spirited elves that founded Dai-Rynn was not just to consummate the marriage with a honeymoon, but the engagement and most times a divorce as well. The humans who dwelled in Dai-Rynn were quick to pick up these customs. The tradition made sense after all, why delay gratification because a wedding could not be planned in a day and why leave on a bad note if the marriage did not work out? Duncan did carry his bride-to- be over the threshold of the suite, a lavishly decorated room in the highest tower that had served as a honeymoon suite for generations of princes and princesses for their own engagements and marriages.

As they lay together in the silent night, they didn't speak. Words couldn't express their happiness with each other or their lives, so they didn't try. In the days to come, they would spend time together walking through the queen's gardens and the forests that engulfed the castle's lands, talking about their future, their children's names, and what kind of manor they would build and live out their lives in. At the end of the week, duty called again, as the king's military advisors reported on the last bastion of evil activity and the corrupted alter that spewed forth ashen undead minions upon their land. Their friends trained with the best warriors in Silverbow and were allowed to purchase arms and supplies from the king's own stores. They ate and rested and regained their love for life, the edge they needed to defeat such a dread inspiring enemy.

When they finally left for home, the engagement and knighting ceremony was a fond memory.

"So much is going through my mind," Duncan said, "I can hardly remember the ceremony." They mounted a set of carriages that would take them across the country to Belfort. Duncan and Sivora shared a last wave to their family and settled in for the several days' journey. Settling back into the cushions and pillows, Duncan wrapped an arm around his fiancée and sighed deeply. Soon they were out of sight of the castle, and Sivora wasted no time in stripping down and making love to him passionately as they rode across the forest roads. The noise of the wheels, bumps of the road, and lush terrain passing by them through open windows making for a wilder encounter. The drivers had to hear their shouts of ecstasy, but neither of them cared. As exhaustion finally set in after an hour, they curled up to each other under a blanket and watched the trees through the panels.

"Wow," Duncan exclaimed. "THAT was a ceremony which I'll have no problem burning into memory."

"Mmm, hmm," Sivora agreed happily with her head resting heavily on his chest. "And after we stop for lunch, we're going to go into the wood and burn it in there again. I'll never forget this, and I'll be damned if I'll let you."

"Thank Heironeous," Duncan replied, "because I think I had one more than you."

"Actually, you didn't," Sivora corrected him coyly, "but if you want to think you did, that's good too."

He ruffled her red locks and they laughed and rested and spent the rest of the journey not thinking about fighting or death or the threat of Dagoth Ur. Soon life would interrupt them again, but not for now. When everyone else arrived in Belfort weary and tired from the journey, Duncan and Sivora sprang forth ready to act.

"This ends now," Duncan proclaimed. "Who wants to save the world?" The Contest

"Ya wouldn't even have a chance in a pie eatin' contest, lad," the robust dwarf boasted. "Save yer coin for one of the bar lasses!"

"Bah, you don't know what I can do," the lean, scruffy man retorted. He stood nearly two feet above the dwarf, but might have given up a few pounds to him. "You know what Jack Burton always says in a time like this?"

"Who the feck is Jack Burton?"

"Jack Burton?!?" he repeated loudly, "ME!"

This drew laughs from the surrounding crowd, always anxious to watch a contest, or a fight.

"Old Jack always says," Burton paused for effect, meeting eyes with the growing crowd of onlookers. He wrapped his calloused hands around the handle of the copper mug. "Shut up and drink."

"Aye, I can respect that!" said the dwarf heartily. "To Heironeous!"

Both men slammed down their ale at an alarming rate of speed. The dwarf slammed his mug down a split second before Burton. He also consumed all of the ale, while Jack's white tunic wore a gulp or two of the brown liquid. The crowd cheered as the dwarf slapped his hand down on the pile of copper pieces on the bar in between the two.

"Nothin' or double," stammered Jack, letting his pride and inebriation get the better of him.

"You already owe me double, boy," mocked the dwarf.

"OK then," Jack corrected, "nothing or triple! I bet I can throw this knife into that knifeboard and hit the bull's-eye."

"This barmaid could do tha!" the dwarf yelled, letting the alcohol flood his senses. What good was a drinking game without embracing the powerful buzz that went with it?

"You bet I could, short round," the voluptuous, raven haired woman cooed. "But I prefer to kill with looks." She blew him a kiss.

"Ahhhhh lassie," the dwarf blushed. "God love ya!"

"Listen, I'm not done," Jack said, getting the dwarf's mind back on the contest before he pocketed almost thirty of Jack's copper. "I'll hit the bull's-eye, blindfolded."

A breath escaped from the crowd with a couple of claps. People started murmuring if the dwarf would take the bet and if he would later have to beat the money out of the bold stranger. Judging by the twin axes the small warrior had strapped to his back, a pound of flesh would be no trouble to take in exchange for funds. The dwarf burped and licked his lips in meditation.

"Yer on, ya bastard!" he howled.

The side action began almost immediately. Since the whole bar was now spreading the news of the bet across the room, the bard singing at the front came to a close as one of his friends whispered the news to him. Tamizander told the band to take a break and hopped off the stage to enjoy the action. He shouldered his way through the crowd until he met up with the two gamblers, taking up a place in front of the knifeboard.

"What are the stakes fellows?" Zander asked.

"What's it to you, pretty boy?" Jack snapped back. He wasn't trying to be rude, he just had a natural flair for it.

"I am the owner of this establishment, and any gambling usually involves a cut for the house," he informed them. "But that cut can be waved if I'm intrigued by the wager."

"This pup's gonna put on a blindfold and hit the center ring with one o' them knives o' his," the dwarf stated. "An' if he can't, he's gonna pay me sixty copper."

"Forty," Jack corrected.

"Nuthin' 'er triple, skinny," the dwarf reminded him.

"Oh yeah," Jack remembered, trying to think of how he was going to raise another twenty copper. He'd come to town to serve in the infantry of Belfort, a frontier town that was rising in population and prestige. In doing so, it was attracting all the wrong attention, especially from the Wild Clans looking for a place to invade and defend against the hordes of undead rolling through Avalon. Maybe the dwarf would let him owe it. He looked at the thick, bare arms, as leathery as the vest he wore over the barrel that served for his chest. Probably not.

"Why don't we make it forty gold?" Zander replied, removing his coin purse and dropping it on the makeshift bar next to the knifeboards. "To the winner goes the spoil!"

The crowd cheered loudly. Money started changing hands and the barmaids surfed through the crowd accepting drink orders and larger tips. This investment would result in ten times that amount of goodwill and repeat business. Plus, if the dwarf won, he'd spend it on booze and if the human won, he'd likely spend it on women. Zander always had an eye for filling whatever need his clientele desired, and could size someone up by looking at them.

Jack was starting to feel nervous. "Stop it Jack," he told himself. The saucy barmaid that blew the dwarf a kiss walked over to him. She was older than him for sure, but her body was incredible and her face showed experience, not age. She reached under her shirt and removed the strap of cloth that bound her incredible breasts in place. She wrapped it around Jack's eyes. He could smell her perfume and skin and it was intoxicating… and distracting. He felt around for his knives, removing one from his belt and promptly dropping it. It landed with a thin thunk, point down in the hardwood floor. The crowd roared.

"I'm gonna be one rich dwarf!" the small warrior announced. "Who wants to drink with me when I win this fool's money?" The crowd cheered. Those that had bet in Jack's favor were counting out their inevitable losses. Jack reached for another knife and felt the strong hands of the barmaid on his shoulders. The familiar smell from her skin invaded his nostrils as she put her lips to his right ear.

"Don't let me down," she whispered.

Jack gripped the knife by its point. "What the Hell?" He flung the knife with all his might. It buried itself into the board nearly up to its hand guard. There was a silence. Jack ripped the bra from his eyes and looked to see the result.

Dead center.

"It's all in the reflexes," he said. The crowd erupted in applause.

The dwarf grabbed the blindfold from his hand, inspecting it for holes. There were none. The raven-haired barmaid hugged Jack's neck and snatched the cloth from the dwarf's grip. Back slaps and hearty congratulations were shared as money changed hands. It was a pretty amazing feat. As Jack reached for the pouch, he saw the dwarf unsheathe one of his massive weapons.

"Ya wouldn't be tryin' ta pull one over on ole Gorin Stonebeard, would ye?" he challenged. Although the bar was usually home to several skilled warriors known as the Heroes of Belfort, they were no where to be found on this night. If the dwarf started cutting people down, it would be a while before anyone could respond. The jubilation turned to a ripple of fear.

"Come on, buddy, there's nothing going on," Jack assured.

"Ya did that on tha up 'n up?" Gorin said, squinting his eyes.

"You betcha," Jack assured. "It's like Jack Burton always says, there's nothin' worse than a cheat."

Gorin gripped the handle of the axe so hard that the creak of his skin was audible in the now silent hall. He took in a deep breath and looked like a coiled spring ready to explode. Then the blade of his axe dropped to his side.

"Then Hell, I'm not even mad at cha!" the dwarf boomed. "Great throw laddie!"

The crowd relaxed and started to laugh at their nervousness. Zander had an incantation ready to stop the dwarf in his tracks if he hurt a patron, but now it would be unnecessary. He reached for the pouch of gold.

"I believe this is yours," he said, holding out his hand in congratulations to Burton. "Spend it wisely." Jack smiled as he reached for the pouch. Zander tightened his grip and pulled him closer by his hand. "Spend it here," the bard ordered him.

"Drinks are on me!" Jack announced, knowing that he was in quite a bit over his head. It was a situation he recognized well.

"Tha' was one Hell of a toss," Gorin said slapping Jack on the back as he was released from Tamizander's death grip. The slap hurt, although the intention was good. "Amazin'. I almost shat me self. Tha' name's Gorin Stonebeard. Please to meet 'cha."

"Yeah, you said that," Jack reminded him, rubbing his knuckles where Zander had squeezed them together. Normally he would have gotten mad, but he was taken by surprise by the show of intimidation. "I'm Jack."

"Well Jack," Gorin repeated, "how about we spend some o' dat money on some gruel and beer and you can tell meh some more o' dose sayin's."

The play to his ego woke him from his anger at his benefactor. Jack didn't like threats, but he did like talking about himself.

"I should tell you about the time I saved the old Pork Chop Caravan from about ten bandits," Jack started, slapping the dwarf on the shoulder as hard as he could. The dwarf laughed, unfazed. "Damn this little bastard is like a rock," Jack thought. "Shit," he said out loud again, "let me get my knife."

"Don't forget the one in the floor, sweet buns!" Raven called out to him.

He felt the blood rush to his face. How in the Hell did he pull that off? Was he Tymora's love child or something? Whatever it was, he was drinking free and sleeping in a bed tonight, probably not alone, and that was enough to keep him from asking too many questions. He freed the dagger from the floor and sheathed it in its familiar boot. Then he stood up to retrieve the other. As he reached for it, something hit the handle and stuck. It was a ninja shuriken, and it was stuck to the hilt.

"Hot bathwater!" he yelped, pulling his hand away from the weapon and glad he approached it from the side. Did someone just try to kill him?

"How do you do that, Kooriya?" asked a voice.

"I just aim for the middle," responded a voice in an accent that wasn't familiar. Was it Rimule or maybe Samreign? It definitely contained a hint of Northwind, but with something else. The voice belonged to a slim fellow wearing a white ninja gi with a sword strapped to his back and several other throwing stars tucked into a black, cloth belt. He was approaching Jack with nearly silent steps.

"What the Hell, man?" Jack shouted at him, trying to get control of his heartbeat. If the dwarf's act hadn't killed his buzz, almost getting a shard of metal in his skull did. "You could have split my head open!"

"Unlike your throw, mine was intended," the ninja responded calmly, taking the star out of the knife's hilt and replacing it in a custom pouch for quick retrieval. "Actually I was impressed by your spirit, you are ignorant of fear, which is a difficult chi to attain. I am Arashi Koori of the Arashi Shino-bi clan. You may call me Kooriya."

"What the feck is goin' on here?" Gorin demanded. "I though we were gonna eat somethin'?"

"Uh, this guy is Arad She and is from the Sheenoob quarry…" Jack began, then stopped. "Fuck it, I'm going to call you Wang. Is it ok if I call you Wang? Gorin, this is Wang."

Both of them looked puzzled at Jack who was pretty satisfied with the compromise. Koori didn't expect much different, the formality of the clans from the north is not shared by those living in Dai-Rynn, and he knew that the dwarf wouldn't know better.

"What the feck kind of man names his son after his Johnson?" Gorin said, very confused.

"A proud one," Koori replied, not missing a step. He was a city dweller, having spent the last several years in Rimule. Although he still held onto the accent of his cloistered monk teachers, he was streetwise and quick. "If I showed you, you wouldn't doubt it."

The dwarf paused, considered this response, and then roared out a laugh. "You're funny! I like you, you're funny!"

Jack smirked too. It was a pretty good response, although he's the one who thought to call the guy Wang. It was a better result than getting cut down where he stood though.

"I noticed you won a considerable amount of gold," Koori said to Jack. "How about you buy a fellow newcomer a drink?"

"Can you monk's drink?" Jack asked seriously, showing quite a bit of ignorance in the process.

"I'm not a fucking monk," responded Koori laughing. "I eat monks for breakfast. They taste like chicken!"

"Like chicken!" Gorin repeated, bellowing. "I like this one a lot!" A vicious slap to the back brought a wince to the ninja's eye. "Good," Jack thought, "it's not just me that hurts."

"I guess after that throw I'm lucky you weren't in on the contest, or else this would be yours," he said, holding the coins in two full hands. "So that's worth a drink."

"Arigato, Burton-san," he said, reverting to the formality of his training and giving Jack and Gorin a slight bow from the waist. "Let's get hammered."

"That's the spirit, Willie," agreed Gorin.

"His name is Wang, stone head," Jack corrected, incorrectly.

"My name's Stone-beard, ya feckin' tree!" Gorin shot back, missing the point of the insult entirely, but still mad enough to give Jack a good shove.

"Please," Koori pleaded while stepping in between the two, "just buy a round."

As the trio walked back towards the bar and the room dispersed to reconstruct the evening, turning it into a bona fide urban legend, a pair of eyes followed them to their destination. From a table in the corner, unremarkable and undisturbed by the rabble, a thick framed elf had observed the entire scene with interest. He had followed the dwarf into the bar tonight, hoping he would get into a fight, like they do, and he could see first hand his ability with those twin axes. Instead he got a show of Jack's skill, and then a bonus display by the ninja, and he was intrigued. He sipped his wine and fingered the hilt of his courtblade.

"These fellows could serve me well," he thought to himself. Pulling a journal from his cloak, he scratched a few notes in elven, safe from the prying eyes of those nosy fools around him, and went back to his observations. Two, maybe three down. Just one or two more and he'd have his group assembled. He needed muscle to escort him and keep him alive while he researched and grew his power, then he could set out on his own and begin to set his legacy. The dwarf would probably reject him on sight, his nickname among his kind being "Fat Elf", but if he was allied with this boastful human who was so swayed to ridiculous challenges by mere gold, or the courtly ninja who would respect the power that the warmage could wield, well that was to his advantage.

"I'll need a healer, and maybe another bodyguard," he thought to himself, scanning the crowd again. Not here though, he'd need a quieter place to find a holy man, and to find another bodyguard, well he might just have to start some trouble for that cream to rise to the top. Anephas smiled to himself as a slight, blonde barmaid approached.

"Another flute of wine, master elf?" she asked sweetly, "the gentlemen at the bar are paying for it."

"Please," he said, accepting the drink and not passing on a tip. Then he waved her away and went back to his journal.