Shadow is a Star Trek character created for a writing group. She’s based on Janet Kagan’s “Uhura’s Song” novel and used under her ‘just don’t make money!’ clause. She’s a felenoid, a bipedal cat.

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This was bouncing around my brain while I was hiking the Chilliwack River Trail.. It doesn’t really fit into current timeline, so, y’know..

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Shadow ducked behind the tree and scrambled up as the pounding of feet came down the trail. She scurried past the welcome homes that were now raising a ruckus.

She shouldn’t be surprised at the reception she’d received after failing her third walk. She supposed she should expect to be handed gifts of knives to take the other trail, harassment, bullying and jokes that weren’t very funny. The latest round of assailants were a pack of youth almost ready to Walk. She’d been picking berries for her kits when they’d came up on her, slapping the berries out of her hands and out of the carrysack. She’d reacted in typical child fashion of leaping at the eldest and leader and dragging him to the ground in a typical pounce-tackle. They’d rolled on the ground as she applied claws and teeth until he squawked.

That should have been the end of it, but with no elders within hearing, one of the females had reached around her and yanked her tail. Hissing Shadow had turned to pounce on the newest antagonist when someone else had yanked her tail. She wasn’t very familiar with this camp, she had been thinking of moving but her mate wanted to stay for the season; he liked the hunters. Unfortunately, with him out on the hunt she didn’t even have his shadow to hide in. Seeing herself outnumbered and a group of aggressors spoiling to get her out of camp she’d done the sensible thing and run.

The downside was that while she was taller and longer of limbs, she didn’t know the trees as intimately as the children of the camp. She might have some speed in the trees, but they knew which branches met where. She had to jump down several meters and catch herself on a branch more than once. An ominous crack as she caught herself told her she’d have to come up with a new plan soon. Her retreat had taken her down towards the river. It wasn’t a deep river, but it was fast and rocky.

With a glance over her shoulder where she could see Stormclaw catching up, she took a deep breath and dived into the waters. Chances were and even those children that were able to swim wouldn’t want to follow into the cold depths. The water was a slap of glacier temperatures and had her push against the bottom to come up for air. The current was already trying to drag her down the way. Digging her back claws against the rocks she managed to stay in place, eyes narrowed at the bank. The children were picking up rocks to throw. Growling in frustration as a better answer to mewling in despair, she bounce-swam her way to the far shore. They’d have a long run to get to the bridge to come find her. On the bank of the river she wiggled past the bushes and shook off as much of the water as she could from her fur. Climbing up into the Y of a nearby tree gave her a safe vantage point to groom the water off.

It seemed hours before she was dry and walking her way back to the bridge. She knew it wouldn’t take much intelligence for them to realize she’d rather take the bridge back than swim a second time. She could only hope that they’d become bored with their games and gone home to mooch dinner from their kith and kin. She wanted to be buy a nice warm campfire herself at the moment, but at least the kits were safe in SoftSong’s tent. She took some satisfaction in scooping some fish out of the waters even if it had gotten her feet and calves wet a second time. She’d walked shaking off feet for several minutes.

The bridge was empty in the growing dusk of the night, though Shadow didn’t let her up guard until she was back in the camp. Stormclaw hissed to his best friend, “Looks Hides in Shadows should get a new name of Hides with the Fish.”

She flicked her tail in his direction but didn’t bother looking in his direction. As far as the adults were concerned if she took offense she should challenge him, but any challenges she made were apparently going to be repaid in numbers when he found her alone. Easier to just ignore and have him not need to bandage his ego at the first opportunity.

SoftSong was sitting beside her tent with the kits. Both were sleeping when Shadow arrived, but they quickly woke at the scent of their mother. She sat down to licking and cuddling them. How could anyone think she would be so selfish as to take the Long Walk when she had kits to care for? Perhaps when they were old enough to chew food it would be different, but for now, she was needed and that was almost enough.

The guards were as amused as her when they pulled up the mounts so they didn’t leave the street rat behind. She wasn’t sure if he’d ever ridden before, but the mule was placid enough for any tyro. He’d insisted on coming out of the city with her and she was starting to toy with the idea of offering him an apprenticeship. He wasn’t gifted, but there was more to healing than mental powers.

What had caught Jono’s attention was the spirit horses galloping and playing on the plains north of the city. The magical creatures were said to be the fallen mounts of wars of the past and they could go solid when they so choose but they were mercurial and not to be trusted. Sometimes they were present as great herds, sometimes only a few, sometimes none at all. Never had Sora passed through and had the scene be the same. Jono was absolutely fascinated by the ghostly shapes that flickered in and out as they danced through the grass.

Daisy, Sora’s equally placid mule decided this was a good opportunity to eat some of the dusty grass by the side of the roadway. The guard’s destriers were better behaved and just shifted restlessly in place. “I know it’s a fantastic sight, but we do have a time table,” she said to Jono gently.

The boy whipped his head around and gave her a shy and embarrassed smile. She smiled back, “I understand, they take me the same.” He just ducked his head further while the leader of her three guardsmen chuckled and clucked to his horse to get it moving once more. The mules fell back into the middle of the pack, Daisy munching on wisps of grass as they went. Sora supposed letting her mount eat with a bit in wasn’t particular good horsemanship but she was the one who’d be cleaning the tack.

The Rissiki village didn’t look much like anything of the sort, a few mounds with the large cat people lounging around and that was all most saw. Their elaborate dens were hidden by camouflage spells that would make the queen’s wizards jealous. They may have claws half a foot long, but that didn’t necessarily mean they liked battle and wanted it on their hearths. “Kasai Mesong,” Sora said as conversationally as she could. The felanoid’s language didn’t adapt well to the human throat no matter what breed of human tried to speak it.

One of the watchers rumbled a laugh and rolled off his mound to greet the party. “Good day to you Lady Life and her death brigade,” he gave a bow, tail flicking from side to side. “You bring a cub with you now?” He sniffed in Jono’s direction.

The mute boy stared at the Rissiki with wide-eyed fascination. While many races came to the city and even more lived in the wilds around, it was probably his first encounter with the race that had these lands first. They didn’t exactly come into town often.

“This is Jono, a possible apprentice.” She answered, the boy’s eyes flicked to her and then back. “He doesn’t have the gift of speech, but his hands have the gift of caring and life.”

That brought a rumbling purr of approval. “You are welcome in our den, Jono of possible apprenticeship,” the guard teased, “and your metal death troop know their welcome.”

Their welcome was about ’start trouble and we’ll feed you to the ground.’ Fortunately Baron pain in her butt had chosen her guards well and trouble had never surfaced.

Sora nudged Daisy forward and they rode into a shimmer curtain that then revealed the tents, dens, and buildings beyond. Without a welcome, you’d see a dusty road or your funeral from the wrong side. Jono seemed as fascinated by this magic as he had been by the horses.

They were soon greeted by the eldest of the village females, Kosi “It is too early for birthing season and we have not called, why you seek us?” she asked, licking her whiskers nervously. None of the females liked change from routine.

“War comes to these lands again, I wanted to offer the safety of walls and make sure you were prepared.” Sora answered simply.

Kosi’s tail lashed twice, “War always comes in the shadows of humans.” She softened her bristling, “But so does friendship. We are well Sora-Healer, and we thank you for your concern. Do you wish to join us for a meal?”

She was tempted, Kosi’s cooking was heavenly, but the suns were climbing through the sky and they had other communities to visit yet. “No, I wanted to check in on and you and introduce you to Jono. Will you take his scent?” She wanted somewhere for the boy to be safe and there were fewer safer places than the Rissiki dens.

Kosi’s tail stilled for a heartbeat and she approached the group. The equines shifted nervously, even Daisy was uneasy around what she considered a huge carnivore. She reached Jono’s side and took his palm and gave the startled human’s hand a long sniff. “You and your direct kin are welcome in our dens Jono human cub.”

Jono’s eyes sparkled and he touched palm to heart and gave her a fairly credible bow.

Kosi tsked and turned back to Sora, “That boy needs a mother, he will steal hearts of all who have birthed.”

Sora laughed, “If hearts are all he steals, I’ll consider him reformed.”

Jono looked offended by this but soon enough they were heading back out of the village and on to the next.

Jono’s brother came in while she was cleaning the thief’s hands of gravel. He’d fallen from a gutter and caught himself with his hands, really a strange reaction for a boy who lived by their condition.

Massus peered over her shoulder, “Will he be alright?”

“Few days and he’ll be right as rain and staying out of my windows.” She said with a smile. Mr Baron High and Mighty would probably have her reporting every thief and pick pocket to his guard, but really, was he about to tax the rich to feed the poor? Was he going to go catch every wayward father who impregnanted a night lady? She didn’t think so.

“Which, of course, means, he’ll be on guard duty here.” she added while she could see Massus figuring out how much it was going to cost him to feed his younger brother. The deal Sora had with her street friends was they got free care, food and roof, in exchange for keeping her from thieves, gangs and bullies. They’d formed the watch all on their own. Her home, ward and yard were neutral ground and anyone treating it other wise would find themselves without a healer.

Massus gave her a smile while Jono practically bounced in spot. He much preferred cooking for her than his brother. Sora wasn’t quite sure why, cooking for her meant feeding every one of her patients and not all walked on two feet. The mute boy suddenly hugged her and scrambled down from the counter he’d been sitting on to skip off to her small cottage.

“Ever feel like his world is a much nicer place than your’s or I’s?” Sora asked absently.

Massus shook his head, “I know it is.” He looked down at Sora, “What did his highness want?”

“Treatment, same as everyone else.” Sora answered, busying herself with tidying and cleaning.

Massus made a noise of disgust, “No, he wants you as a prize and knows the only way the Pissini of the city won’t storm the castle is if you choose him. Though, Ma swears she senses love off him.”

“Love of power, maybe.” Sora grumbled and then sighed, “I do him a disservice. No, love of his people and his realm. If I were to marry him it would unite my father’s people and my mother’s people more symbollicly than their marriage. Father wasn’t heir when he married Mother, and by the time he would have been, Keros held the seat.”

Massus, a boy five years her junior gave her a look of sympathy, “Don’t you wish you could have just been born in an alley half-starving like the rest of us?”

sora barked laughter and smacked him upside the back of the head, “I happen to know Lorist delievered you in the kitchens, don’t try that alleyway line with me.” She tied up her healer’s sack, “Now, go help your bother clean roots and you can eat with us.”

Massus bounced up and down on his heels, “You’re the best, Sora!” and scrambled off the way his brother had gone.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re still doing dishes after too!” she called after him. Another reason not to marry would be she would lose her stipend from the Queen as part of the conquering. Or was she an empress these days?

Sora looked across her waist high border walls to where the larger twin of the suns was setting behind the castle. She did miss not having to do her own cleaning and animal care, but she certainly didn’t miss the restrictions on every part of her life. She suddenly grinned visciously, Baron Broom up the Butt was going to have a fit when he got her request for guards to do her sweep of the villages. He was the one who had insisted on them in the first place, she’d go with or without them, and with trouble brewing she wanted to make sure the villagers and farmers knew what to take into town in case of siege.

She wasn’t surprised when she stepped into her cottage to find Lorist studiously wittling something. She had a collection of strange carvings from the ex-Healer on her mantle. She just gave him a kiss on the cheek and went to make sure the boys weren’t about to burn down her cottage.

Coming back she found him with nib knife against the wood, but it wasn’t moving. “So, what was this afternoon about?”

He shook his head and looked down to the table.

Lorist hadn’t been the same since the Kacasi had captured him. Something in his mind had broken, his gifts had tripled in strength, but he was strange. Sora didn’t know where he spent most of his days and nights, but she was always happy to see the man who had trained her in her own gifts. “I wish I could make you two.” Lorist said finally.

She raised an eyebrow, “Two of what?”

“One a noble of the pissini line, one a farmer’s daughter of the drassen line who is a healer. One to marry the baron and unite our peoples in the darkness that comes and one to carry on your duties.” He sighed and dropped the wood onto the table and drew idle lines in the shavings.

“What do you see?” she asked, brows furrowed and concern causing her to lean forward.

“I see an army that covers the horizon, I see drakes ready for war, and I see a traitor from within that can be prevented by unification.” He picked up the wood again and went back to his carving. “And I see dinner being scorched if two brothers do not stop arguing.”

“That’s okay, I had Lissa drop off bread this morning, we won’t starve.” She reassured him, patting his form arm.

He smiled, “well, there’s that then.”

He’d stopped sending messengers when she’d started paying them to go back up to the castle on the hill and say the message had been delievered and she’d shown them a good time beside. He may be a stubborn son of a goat, but he did eventually learn. So it was with both surprise and a sense of inevitavbility when she turned to see him darkening the barn that served as her ward. Sora pursed her lips and pushed past him out into the sunshine. His Chief of Guard was still Rasak Torren who was looking rather embarassed. Poor man, always got stuck in the middle of their greater arguments.

“Baron Keros, to what do I owe this unexpected and unwanted visit?” Sora asked, trying to resist the urge to pat blonde hair back into its braid.

He had the eyes of the bluest sky, that color of when the sun is behind a small puffy white cloud and the rest of the sky is a perfect and clear blue. They were framed by dark raven lashes and even as he towered over her, she could see them narrow in irritation. She wasn’t quite sure why he bothered. “I have need of a healer.” He replied dryly. “Why else would I come to your ward?”

“To drive me to drinking. Obviously you’ve invested in cartage recently and wish the bessini usage to rise.” Sora replied and gestured with her head for him to follow her to the small office that had been built in the barn. A few shadows lurked beyond her stone walls. The urchins and teens of the neighborhood kept an eye on her, but she didn’t think they’d challenge the baron and his men. Or at least, she hoped they wouldn’t.

“Sit.” She pointed at a chair large enough to hold his drassen frame. The mountain people only came in two sizes, large and larger. Her mother may have been drassen, but she took after her perrisi father, small and petite. Her mother had always defended the size difference with a shake of her head, a smile and “Love, you know.”

She didn’t scent the blood until he removed his outer breastplate. He was in his hunter leathers and pealed them off with no help from her or squire. Really, if anyone wanted to kill the Baron they’d just have to convince her to do it, he rarely protected himself around her. Thoughts of irritation disappeared when she saw the ragged slash across his chest. It had started oozing blood again when he’d removed his gear. Sora let out a hiss of surprise. Such a cut under the armour? She grabbed the disinfectant and sewing gear. “Angered the wrong lady of the night?” she asked, distracting from the expanse of chest. It would be rather poor form if she tried to entwine her fingers in that forest of hair and to feel the muscles of his chest twitch and flex under her hands. Though, it would probably make him seven shades of happy.

“Hardly,” he replied, staring off over her shoulder as she applied disinfectant. “We were attacked at our camp last night.”

She stopped in threading of the needle. “And there were no other healers between here and there?” She asked with a sigh and shake of her head.

“None that I trusted to see the wound.” He replied.

Well, she was still officially the court’s healer if only because he refused to replace her. That had a whole set of oaths ontop of the standard. She leaned forward to study the wound to make sure it didn’t need cleaning though she was fairly sure he would already have attended it. “Holy hell.” she muttered.

“Exactly.” He replied, with some smugness.

The wound revealed the waved and jagged knife it had been made by, the signature of the black hand clan. A group of high priced assassins no matter what they tried to call themselves. “Well, someone definitely wants rid of you.”

“Someone other than yourself,” He said wryly, tilting his head to one side.

She took some satisfaction sticking the needle into his flesh and listening to him suppress a hiss as he tried not to jerk. “I don’t want you dead.” She replied honestly. “Just to leave me alone.”

“No, you don’t.” He replied through gritted teeth.

True, she wanted him in her bedroom and under her and they both knew it. Too many mind talents to deny it, but she also didn’t want to marry him or be his pet court healer or his mistress or anything else that went with his castle and cirlet. She had way too much to do down in the city.

She tried to ignore where her hand held the wound closed as she stitched it up. Other than a twitch when she inserted the needle each time he was a statue. She wished all her patients were as stoic and well behaved.

When finished she straightened and cleared away her gear. He was still sitting in the chair when she finished. She made an irritated noise in the back of her throat. He grinned, the brat, as he stood, stepping easily and comfortably into her personal space. “Come back with me,” he urged, starting to wrap arms around her.

She was taking a step back, readying the standard argument that always happened at this point, when she felt a familar mind brush her’s. “Lorist!” she cried, and shoved pasted Keros and ran out into the yard.

He was still taller than tall, but his muscular build had shrunk into wireyness over the years. His thick hair had thinned and turned silver. His eyes were still two chunks of obsidian. “I thought I sensed him,”

The Baron’s guard were turning in shock and surprise, not knowing how the seemingly old man had gotten past them.

She didn’t quite pounce of Lorist, even though he was probably still strong enough to toss her around one handed. She did however wrap her arms around him and shared a burst of happiness to see him.

His echo was one of concern and worry. He returned the hug with distraction, but he did everything with distraction these days. She could feel him looking over her shoulder to where Keros would have come from. She could still feel Lorist’s anger and distrust, his confusion and his fear. “You should go with him,” Lorist said.

Sora was so startled she let go when she jerked back to look up at her old teacher’s face. “What?” She and the Baron said in the same shocked voice.

“War comes. You should be safe.” He said, and turned.

Sora tried to grab his hand to prevent him from leaving, but he was already smoke and leaving on the winds. “I hate it when he does that!” she growled and turned to look at the stunned baron. “And no, I’m not going with you.”

He actually growled before answering, “I expect nothing less. Why would you let a warrior protect you? Why would you hide behind walls of steel and brick? Why would you keep yourself safe when you can be in the worst slum in the city courting death by a thousand different methods!”

“I don’t need protecting!” She growled back. His idea of protecting was sitting in a solar somewhere doing needlework. “My patients here need me.” She added, attempting to reign in her temper.

He strode to her, placing hand under chin and catching it before she could jerk away, “I need you too.” He said firmly.

“As a political play, yes.” She glared up at him, daring herself not to cry. She may lust for him, but he was ice. She had once dreamed of more, but dreams tended to crumble to dust.

He shrugged one shoulder and let go of her, “I wish to protect every single being within my realm and responsibility. I did not realize that was a bad thing.”

“It’s not when you’re playing with game pieces and not people.” she replied to his back, he was turning to return to his men and horses.

He smiled over his shoulder, “Ah, but I’m not allowed to play with you. You make your own rules, remember?”

She stood and steamed as she watched the stubborn son of a goat return to his men. He easily mounted the horse that she’d have needed a ladder to climb. She turned and strode back to her ward, no interest in watching the noble party depart.

Sora did wonder if he’d left enough of the assassin to go back to its clan and exclaim why the target was hale enough to ride a horse. Knowing the baron, however, the assassin had probably only scored on him when it had a knife through its throat.

My Writing blog : http://www.shadowydreamer.com where I throw up scribbles and thoughts of writing. Sometimes I finish the story, most of the time I don’t.

My webcomic: http://www.tuxandbunny.com Five days a week you get what amuses me attached to pictures of plush toys. On the weekends its a picture stolen from the web that amused me somehow.

My bunny blog: http://itsagoodthingyouarecute.blogspot.com/ Where I tell tales about my bunnies. Rarely interesting to the non-bunny person, but I do try to be entertaining as I relate being a pet to two rabbits.

Ask a Canadian: http://asklorna.blogspot.com/ Where I answer questions about Canada - typically from Americans. It’s updated sporadically since I only get questions sporadically!

Mishke bounced up and down in spot, pink pony tail counter bouncing to her heels. “Okay, so he’s MY orphan for the week?” she asked the too tall human woman eagerly.

The Matron was starting to reconsider the wisdom of this decision, “Well, yes, but.. it’s more like a brother-sister relationship and..”

Mishke tuned out everything after the affirmative. “GREAT!” she squeeled and turned to pump the orphan’s hand. “I’m Mishke the Fabulous, who are you?”

“Er, I’m Ricky, the Orphan, I guess..” He looked up at the Matron but before his responsible caretaker could save him, Mishke had hauled him off and down the steps of the orphanage.

“I’ve never met a human my size before!” she gushed. “Normally they’re all so tall and bulky and their chairs don’t fit any decent being. At least the girls aren’t hairy like dwarves I guess!” She stopped by the fountain, “So, whatcha wanna do?”

“Do?” Ricky echoed, feeling more than a little bit wide-eyed.

“SURE! Wanna go bungee jumping off the dam? Wanna go fishing for griffons? Wanna go put berries on the guards in Dalamaar?”

“Dalamaar?” he echoed, once again looking to his now very worried looking matron.

“SURE! The Elf guards are all so stoic and sticky. They won’nt make faces at you or ANYTHING, so it’s fun to try and plink berries in their ears. Normally I miss and it catches in their armour, but they don’t get mad or nothing. They just mutter about patience and younger races. Sometimes they’ll even give you cookies.” Mishke didn’t have much use for the pointy eared tall people, but they had really good cookies.

“Cookies?” Ricky asked, perking up.

“Yeah! I like their cookies too!” Mishke hadn’t let go of his hand, so it wasn’t hard to haul him off in her wake towards the docks. “Oh, lets take the BIG boat, the really really big one, then we can kaplunk!”

Ricky was warming up to the manic gnome, “What’s a kaplunk?” he asked a little breathlessly since Mishke’s path seemed to be straight between two points, be darned the barrels, fences and people in her way.

“OH! It’s where you take the cannon balls and you toss them off the back of the ship and it goes KAPLUNK! It’s GREAT fun!” Mishke stopped to look around and refocus before chasing off in a new direction down the canals.

“Don’t the humans -” Oh, now he was starting that, “sailors get mad?”

“Oh sure, but they can’t toss us off or nothing. It’s a free service for all warriors of the allaince and defenders of the faith or some such nonsense. Since *I* am a warrior of the allaince in my blow up murlocks with fireballs kinda way, they have to be nice.” Mishke stopped about a foot short of the end of the pier and grabbed Ricky before he would have tumbled in.

He had been paying more attention to keep his feet underneath him than where his feet had been going. “Isn’t it .. well.. kind of a waste of cannonballs?”

“Naw, I have a druid friend who’s always happy to go spelunking for cannonballs. She’s an elf, she’ sa bit weird. I just tell her about all those metal balls at the bottom of the ocean confusing the fish and off she goes.” Mishke looked solemnly up at Ricky, “Elves are weird. As if fish are ever anything other than confused?”

Ricky didn’t know much about fish other than it’s what they ate entirely too much of so he decided to just wait patiently for the ship.

“Hey, after berry picking and kaplunking, wanna go get some ice cream and watch the goblins crash their toys? It’s way fun!”

Ricky was starting to think that maybe the Matron had the right of it when she complained about him having too much sugar in his diet. But at least the gnome was way funner than a bunch of dopey human adults. “I like ice cream.” he said firmly.

“Who doesn’t?? I like ice cream for breakfast, lunch AND dinner.” Mishke saw some guards heading down with the human woman from the orphanage. She wondered what they wanted, but fortunately the ship arrived and was already preparing for turn around. “YAY! Off to Elfyland we go!”

She dragged Ricky onto the ship, wondering if humans in plate mail could make it down the ramps with any kind of speed. She thought about waiting to find out, but there were cannonballs to toss..

Meena wasn’t surprised to find Ceekra standing at the bow of the ship, nose twitching into the wind as they sailed over the waters towards the newly refound Innothule swamp. The dark elf was unhappy to see clouds underneath her instead of water, but the ratonga seemed to take to flying as she took to every other adventure; with great enthusiasm. The young warrior had clamboured out onto the bowsprit and was easily balanced out on the wooden pole even with clanking armour and a small arsenal adorning her. Her tail was twitching in the wind, seeming to indicate joy as much as counter balance. Meena once again reaffirmed to herself what a complete and utter nutter her partner was. She sighed, best friend really. How had she fallen so far to be friends with a grub eating rat?

Ceekra’s ears turned as Meena stopped and her head turned to follow. She gave a bucktoothed grinned. “This is GREAT!” She turned and bounded back down the pole to the deck. Two of the gnomish sailors stopped their rope knotting to give an applause. Ceekra gave them a proud bow.

“Great is not the adjective I would have chosen,” Meena replied through gritted teeth. With every clang and bang she expected the giant metal fans to stop turning and for the ship to plummet into the ocean before. The gnomish Captain had chittered something about the giant balloon sausage over their heads not letting them fall, but Meena was entirely too familiar with Gnomish technology and ability to believe him. Surely in a city full of magi there had to be a safer and more sensible way to travel.

She hadn’t been surprised that Darus had also fallen in love with the ship at first glance. A follower of Bristlebane he could go from cheerfully cutting people into small cubes on a table to bouncing around making rum references and saying ‘Yar, me harties’ with a strange accent. The gnomes seemed to like him. In fact, the only one the gnomes didn’t seem to like was her and that was probably because she’d threatened to turn the cabin boy into a cabbage if he touched any of her belongings. “Couldn’t you turn him into something useful? Like a camel? Or an elephant or..” She’d shoved the mate out the door and bolted it. Really, all she could actually have done was murder the little snot an animate his corpse to tap dance on the deck until the Innoruk forsaken thing blew up in a typical gnomish accident.

Darus slipped up beside her and took her secondary hand in his own. He turned her to look off the port side. “Thar she be,” he said simply.

“ooooh.” Ceekra emoted, scurrying across the deck to look down at their destination.

Meena didn’t see what the fuss was about. Huge cliffs, waterfalls, swamps, lost civilization of a bunch of mud eating frogs and trolls and she was here why exactly? She spotted the dock as the ship came about. “We’re landing up there?” she snarled at the nearest gnome.

“Yup!” he said cheerfully. “That’s where our base is! Best ale this side of Guk!”

“It’s the only ale..” she trailed off as she realized she’d walked right into the gnome’s point. Darus turned his head, she was sure, so she wouldn’t see his smirk. “A whole village full of gnomes?” Meena asked with a wince.

“Oh no, we have tall people too. And scaley people. And tailed people. And furry people. Pretty much anyone who wants to explore the ruins and dig up fun stuff, they’re all there.” The gnome sailor was happy to explain with grand gestures and sweeping hands.

“And how do you keep the peace?” Meena asked with raised eyebrow.

“Oh, well, anyone we don’t like, we shoot out of a canon.” The gnome sailor replied with a solemn nod. “Well, actually, we shoot those we do like out of canons too, but we aim those ones better. We try not to feed those we like to the crocodiles.”

“Oh, well, as long as you try,” Meena muttered between ground teeth. She wondered how upset the Overlord would be if she blasted the sausage balloon on her way off and sent the ship and crew to be eaten by crocodiles. Someone in Qeynos would probably declare active battle over it for poisoning the crocodiles and she would lose rank and standing for the resulting conflict with stupid people which was always a terrible waste of resources. Stupid tree hugging druids, even Freeport was infested with them.

She was starting to think of tossing the sailor overboard anyway as he went on, and on, and on, about the wonders of the colony when the finally bumped up to the dock and gnomes swarmed about tying things together. Meena ignored them all as she descended to her cabin, grabbed her pack and handed it to the zombie she’d animated before they left the coast. He didn’t even smell too bad yet. She strode back up onto deck with the undead human behind her. He’d been a sailor before she’d found a better use for him, she supposed it was only fair he’d gotten one last trip on a vessel.

Darus and Ceekra clamboured up after her and followed her off the ship. Like docks anywhere they were accousted by urchins wanting errands for coin, cheap merchants trying to unload cheaper merchandise and all sorts of dockside lollies. The ocean may be a five minute fall underneath the cliff, but there was still plenty of things the same as the ocean side docks of Freeport. “The next person to come within grabbing distance of me will become my porter’s partner.” Meena said in a voice meant to carry across the caverns of House dinners. Even the silliest of gnomes decided to leave her alone.

Ceekra sighed, “You take all the fun out of this sometimes.”

Meena rolled her eyes. “You and Darus can go exploring while I go investigating where we’re going and how we’re getting there. Try not to get yourself killed.”

Ceekra snickered, “Haven’t yet.. and with an inquis tailing me, I think I should be fine.”

Meena sighed and continued to where the Captain had claimed the best inn ever had rooms waiting for them. Of course, considering the shanty colony, it was probably the only inn. She looked dubiously up at the crumbling rock steps that looked older than her clan and climbed up them carefully. She had no plans on breaking her neck before she had broken the neck of the current Queen of Neriak and taken her place.

Ceekra and Darus, of course, just ran up them without care or consideration of consequence. She was surrounded by idiots.

Meena slipped into the court with a Ratonga. She wasn’t quite sure one of the rat people had ever been allowed in Lucan’s court before, but be damned if she was travelling through a room of backstabbers without her meat shield. A few years ago she would have laughed herself silly if someone would have told her she would consider a rat half her size with axes protection, these days she knew how fast one of those rats could move. Besides, Ceekra’s eyesight was better than her’s.

The court, guards and courtiers alike, were mostly human. Lucan only kept the beautiful people around himself and that meant humans and dark elves out of his available citizenry. Oh, there were a few traitorious elves of the light in the city of Freeport, but no one with a healthy sense of paranoia really trusted THEM to any degree and Lucan was supposedly one of the most paranoid of paranoids to have ever existed. Meena wasn’t sure she agreed with that rumour, she’d met the self-declared queen of Neriak.

She made her way through the throng in court gear and ignored the lusty glances of the unrefined humans. Really, like she had the time of day for one of the short lived, barbarious round ears. They were hairy and smelled foul. She’d sooner stroke up to one of the walking cats at least they had a proper appreciation for how one should hunt and play. There were mutters and glares at Ceekra, but Meena ignored them and Ceekra seemed oblivious as she craned her head around like a ten year old child at a fair. Meena tried not to sigh, at least her partner was dressed for the part in the nice shiny armour her cricket cookie eating friend had made for her.

She walked past the empty throne she’d never heard of the Overlord using and into his office. The large desk was piled with scrolls and papers and looked ignored. The Overlord of the city was pacing back and forth in front of the wall-window. His dark elf, necromancer, lover was no where to be seen. Meena was glad, she couldn’t understand how anyone, especially a necromancer who was familiar with the energies of death, could cozy up to a walking corpse. No matter how powerful, intelligent, or ambitious the walking corpse was, it was still a walking corpse. She bowed carefully, letting the Overlord get a good look at her spider silk covered cleavage. Ceekra gave a surprisingly graceful cursty for a being with a tail in full plate armour.

He studied the pair for a beat of Meena’s heart before seeming to accept Ceekra’s presence. “There is tell of an allaince between frogs and Trolls. Investigate.” He picked up a scroll and tossed it to her. Ceekra grabbed it out of the air and handed it to Meena. The warrior was more likely to survive a trapped scroll for all that Meena was more likely to sense it. The dark elf unscrolled it to find notes written in several different hands and a crude map. She was too young to be familiar with land that the new map had been drawn over, but she could only assume it was pre-cataclysm.

Personally, Meena thought the only thing Trolls would do with Frogloks was cook them over an open fire. “I live to serve,” Meena answered. It happened to be the truth as long as she didn’t have to identify what she served.

“A gnomish ship will be leaving from the main docks north of the city tomorrow at dawn. I suggest you be on them.” The Overlord turned back to his view, obviously dismissing the two females.

Meena managed not to roll her eyes. He couldn’t have sent this with the messenger instead of hauling them all the way out here? She bowed again and swept out of the room back into the gossiping court. She gave the scroll to Ceekra to tuck away as her own court gear didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for storage of things beyond garotts and razor thin daggers. Ceekra didn’t even glance at the scroll before putting it in the belly pouch she kept under her breastplate. Meena wasn’t convinced Ceekra could read very well anyway.

She ignored the people who tried to get her attention and was as happy to leave the smokey court as quickly as she had entered. Really, why did anyone think any with power would hang around on the skirts? You entered, you did your business, you left and went on with your life. Trying to scrape together the scraps was just the work of the weak.

She lost her stride when she saw the dark elf who was leaning against the archway across from the entrance to the Overlord’s tower. Eyes narrowing she crossed the courtyard, noting in the back of her brain the brat who tried to whine about his father was absent and silent for the first time since his father had been arrested all those years ago. Begging for money and opportunity the little snot tricked many an adventurer into their own deaths. “Darus.” Meena said when she reached conversation distance, “Do tell me what you’re doing here.”

Her current lover smiled, “Why my dear, you rushed off to court so quickly I was worried that something had befallen our city.”

What could befall Neriak that hadn’t befallen it a hundred thousand times before over the centuries? Really, you think the man could come up with a better excuse. Unless he actually did give his loyalty to Freeport. You could never tell with the low born, they were all a bit strange upstairs having no real manners or house to belong to. “I hope you didn’t kill the messenger, the Overlord does so frown on the waste.”

“A bit singed, a bit bloody, but home safe and mostly sound.” He stopped and considered while Meena raised an eyebrow, “Well, as sound as Gnomes ever get. He was muttering something about catapults as conyences.”

Meena’s eyebrow managed to gain height as Ceekra clapped her paws, “Now that DOES sound fun!” Both dark elves turned disapproving looks down on the little bezerker. “Riiight, go fetch the muffins Ceekra.” she muttered and turned to clank off in the direction of the inn she and Meena often frequented.

Darus ran a finger down Meena’s cheek to regain her attention, “The spirits say you will need a healer. I am going with you.”

Meena breathed heavily out of her nose. While he was fun to play with, she wasn’t quite sure she was up to the babysitting.

“I know you and the rat have faced dangers untold without a third, but something that Overlord hauls you over for on no notice and dismissed you again mere minutes later, is something that I think you should consider taking back up along on?”

“Oh?” Meena asked, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. Perhaps someone to keep her warm in the swamps wouldn’t be all bad.

“It was important enough for you to be needed right away, dangerous enough that he summons two of the city’s strongest freelancers, and doesn’t have enough information to give you a proper briefing. Not to mention, it doesn’t seem the Overlord wants anyone to know where you’re going or why since he summoned you to give you the not-information.” Darus leaned into her, “So, I think I am fairly safe in thinking you will need me.”

Too bad he couldn’t be stupidly handsome and flexible. She’d come to all those conclusions on her own, but she’d wanted a third who could be more easily tricked out of his share of the fame and fortune on the successful completion.

Darus breathed into her ear, “You need me.” he repeated.

Meena sighed, “I know.” She shoved him off her, “Well, we need a healer, and since you’re volunteering I suppose you’re one up on the healer I’d have to track down.” She wasn’t quite sure a cleric of Bristlebane was her best option, however, especially when she wasn’t sure on the sanity of a low born dark elf who chose the mischiefmaker as his god instead of Bertox or Innoruk. Still, he was smart, he was sexy and he was here.

“Come on then, I suppose we should go rescue the baker from Ceekra’s ideas of travel preparations.” She pulled a small bone whistle from her cleavage and blew into it, producing no sound, but giving off magical energies. Her nightmare steed shifted in, sparks of fire at its impatient hooves. Meena hauled herself up before offering a hand up to Darus and helping him up onto the saddle pad behind her.

“The rat walks, you ride?” He asked, seemingly amused.

“The rat isn’t in four inch spiked bootheels.” Meena grumbled, “SHE gets to looks sensibly barbaric, I get to look like a fashion piece.”

“And a very tasty one at that.” Darus agreed, wrapping his arms around her waist.

The Nightmare snorted its disgust before turning and heading its way up to the inn. The fact it bounced Darus against the rear of the saddle several times in a half-trot were probably pure coincedence.

Meena was very much enjoying the dark elf’s lips on her neck when Ceekra came bounding into the room. Meena shoved the man away and slipped down off the table, already grabbing her robe. The male was smart enough to just sigh and let her go.

“Yes?” She said strapping the robe on and grabbing her belt. Components and dagger fell into place. If she had a choice between clothing and weaponry; mystical and magical, she’d have chosen the weaponry. She’d gone into battle naked, she wouldn’t go into battle with out a way to battle. Hand to hand combat was just so messy.

“The Overlord is summoning you. His messanger is outside.” Ceekra gave the dark elf male, who was mostly dressed in his armour even if his hair was disarayed, a sympathetic glance before following her partner out. He’d learn quickly that he was going to take a very far backseat to power and magic, no matter how fun his ears might be to play with. Or at least that’s what Meena had said, Ceekra was more partial to tails.

The gnome who was waiting in the forecourt looked like he’d blown himself up a few times. It was Meena’s experience that the race wasn’t well known for its ethics or wisdom. They would serve just about anyone who would provide them with a lab and tools. She took in the singed uniform of the Freeport Messenger Service with a raised eyebrow and waited for the fish bait to speak.

“His Lord Lucan D’Lere has requested the precense of the mage Meena of house Le’Dre at his earliest convience.” The Gnome rattled off the message in a high speed spurt.

“Idiot.” Meena cuffed the messenger, “You’re supposed to say MY convienence.”

“Your convience IS his convience.” The gnome protested, glaring up at her with bloodshot eyes.

“Of course, stupid, but there is the.. oh, nevermind, why am I explaining protocol to YOU?” she turned to Ceekra, “I suppose we return home sooner that expected.”

Ceekra’s tail bounced twice in excitement that she’d been automatically included. She’d always wanted to meet the Overlord. She wasn’t really in awe of him in the founding father kind of way, but she heard he was all sorts of powerful and really quite scary. She ruffled her fur in anticipation. Maybe she could learn some of his tricks and become scary too.

The two women used their rings of citizenship to return to Freeport. After the sparkles of their disappearance had cleared the Gnome started rummaging through his packs for his own way home. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to test the matter transferance device again, it was probably safer to use his own citizenship ring. While safer wasn’t always fun, there was something to be said for surviving to experiment another day.

A dark hand placed itself on his arm and he looked up to a white toothed grin of malevolance. “I think you and I need to talk about why you’re here and where the lovely lady Le’Dre is going.”

“I don’t know nothin’!” the gnome squeeked.

“Oh, of course you don’t,” the leather clad elf purred, hand tighetening as he turned and hauled the gnome easily back towards the keep. They’d be perfectly uninterupted up on the heights at this time of day.

The messenger knew he should have just used the transferance device after all.

I was joking with Wonda last night that I wanted to write a kid’s story - she said maybe I should write one about Hailey and Fraser. This is somewhat what I came up with .. a two view story overview.. two novellas rather than one novel. I just don’t do twining views well.

* * *

Hailey’s Story

- Hailey is in her back yard bored and grumpy because her brother is at Lacrosse Camp and she’s BORED.
- She is startled to find a butterfly buzzing her head and she tries to convince it to land on her hand. Surprised it does, she sees the little fairy warrior.
- The fairy says he’s looking for Fraser (”the mighty child warrior”) and Hailey is most put out. Fraser, Fraser, why’s it always about Fraser? She says he’s not here but SHE can help.
- The fairy is doubtful about a little *girl’s* help, but offers to take her through to Faeland. Hailey runs to ask her mother for permission. Wonda says no, she can’t leave the yard right now, but if she wants to go out for dinner later.. Hailey huffs and runs back to the fairy. Mom’s are just so inconvenient! She tells the fairy she’s not allowed to go, the Fairy disappears.
- Hailey is miffed. Why does her BROTHER get to have all the fun and cool stuff happen? She’s the elder, she should get some cool stuff too!

- A female fairy appears the next day when Hailey is once again in the backyard and asks for Hailey’s help. Hailey is very happy to offer her help and asks what she can do.
- The fairy asks if she has any spare food or blankets, there’s lost of evacuee’s during this time of war and they’re running out of *everything* Hailey says they (her family) have LOTS of stuff and why don’t the injured and scared come here? She remembers the evacuation ’cause of all the flooding and that was No Fun and everyone needs somewhere warm and dry to go.
- In after thought she asks her Mom if it’s okay to host the fairy injured and families. Mom says whatever dear. Hailey decides not to extrapulate and works on clearing the loft of the barn for her visitors. The fairies arrive in various states of injury and emotional disarray, Hailey quickly fetches the first aid kit and starts helping the fairy healers.
- Over the next few days Hailey battles injuries, fairy dispair, comes up with games for fairy children and even delievers a couple of fairy babies!
- The fairy messangers bring word that the goblins are in retreat and maybe everyone will get to go home soon.
- That evening a couple of goblins come out of the portal and Hailey wades into teach those nasty bullies what for! Her brother appears through the portal to find the goblins to save her .. and she’s already saved herself and those in her care. The fairies all pack up and go home while Hailey asks what Fraser thinks he’s doing leaving his lacrosse camp without his parents permission.

..More on the other side after I finish tidying my house.

Tisa pounded down the pavement, rain plastering her dyed forest green hair to her scalp. She ducked into the alley that would take her out by the Denny’s. People and light would make her safe and it would only cost her a dollar twenty five to sit at the coffee bar and be warm for a while. She stopped as the figures unfolded from the shadows. This wasn’t the first time they’d precog’d her path, but it was the first they’d stood in her way.

“The master isn’t happy with you,” said the shadow on the left. He was taller, wore a trench coat that swirled against his legs as he strode forward. The street lamp behind her and half hidden by the old pawn shop revealed blonde hair that was cut rather business. He was wearing clothes that weren’t suited for an alley that was used as bathroom more often than not.

His partner looked more suited to the streets of the neglected downtown buildings. He was wearing a motorbike leather with a dragon airbrushed across the back, head coming down the left sleeve. She’d seen him enough times to know him at a glance. He was known as Tear. He never seemed to do much of anything but occassionalley go off for coffee and chats with the various street rats and personalities. She’d had one chat with him and been avoiding him ever since.

“The master made you a very generous offer, but you turned him down,” the left shadow continued. Something about his movements weren’t right, he seemed to move like an oil slick. Tisa kept an eye on Tear, judging her chance of escape by his movements. He seemed perfectly happy to lean up against the alley wall, shoulder against brick, and let the shadow do all the talking.  The shadow stopped in front of her, looking down at her.

Tisa wasn’t short. One of the reasons she’d joined the misfit crowd of youths was because she was tall and gangly, never fit in with those around her. This guy towered over her, it made an already tight stomach knot further. She was debating turning and taking her chances with those who had been chasing her when another form entered the alley mouth where she’d come from.

The new form seemed as wide as he was tall. He could have given a few of the CFL’ers a lesson in linebacking. His scent reached her, he smelt of old cigarettes and leather. He was wearing a sweet Duster than she’d have given two thoughts of rolling him for if it wouldn’t have wrapped around her skinny frame six times and tripped her ankles. Why did the tall skinny people never wear the cool clothes?

“Leave the kid alone, Jackson.” The voice was rough and travelled over her head to the shadow.

“She’s one of our’s.” The shadow, Jackson, replied.

“Not yet.” was the reply as the new comer drew even with her and faced off against Jackson.

“She’s not one of your’s.” Jackson sneered, “So you may as well keep out of it.”

“I’m tired of keeping out of it.” the new comer said, moving his head oddly sideways, each ear touching shoulder like he was loosening up. “The elders aren’t here to know otherwise, are they?”

“Jack..” Tear warned, standing up straight and looking less at ease.

Whatever warning Tear had been about to start got waved down. “Mirall, I’ve been looking forward to this.” He smiled a toothy smile that flashed canines unusualley long in the doubtful light.

“Hey kid, hold my jacket.” Mirall, the linebacker or whatever he was, shrugged out of the beautiful leather trenchcoat and handed it to her. Not so gently he shoved her out of the way as Jackson dropped civility and charged.

Tisa let out a squeel as her would-be rescuer went down under psychopath. The sickening crunching of bone and flesh sound had her run back the way she came, startling Tear into letting her go. She’d been in more than one fight, she’d tossed business people, but never had she heard those sickening thuds, tears and meaty sounds. She ran until she lost herself, leaning up against a lamp post panting.

She was surprised to find she was still holding the duster. She tossed it over a shoulder so she could wipe her hands on her jeans and catch her breath. It was several minutes before she felt almost normal again and looked around. A few doors down was a McDonalds. Not her idea of ideal coffee, especialley since they guilted you if you tried to get your one free refill, but right now warm, well lit and populated meant a lot.

The restaurant didn’t have a lot of people in it, but it was populated enough to make her feel centered once more. She ordered the large coffee with entirely too much sugar and cream and grabbed one of the read while you eat newspapers. She didn’t much care what was happening on the other side of the world, but it would give her something to occupy her mind with.

She was halfway through figuring her way through why the Canucks were trading one of their better defensemen to the Maple Leafs for a promise of a good draft slot when the chair opposite her was suddenly filled. Normalley she had an awareness of beings around her, but the linebacker,  Mirall just seemed to appear out of nowhere.

He was dressed conservatively, a little mountain man, Tisa thought. Hoodie, jeans, hiking boots. His beard was a bit scraggly, like he’d hit puberty and never touched blade to it and his medium brown hair was halfway down his back. His eyes were the strangest shade of pale. “My coat?” he asked, eyebrow raised. He seemed to act like they’d been planning to meet here all along.

She nodded to the chair beside her, trying to swallow her rapidly beating heart. “How’d you find me so fast?” she asked, ten thousand thoughts whirling.

He grinned, perfectly even white teeth. No strange canines. “Followed your scent.”

“I heard you get pummelled.” She continued, fingers toying with the edge of the newspaper.

He shook his head, “Naw, you heard me dropping shape to properly deal with one of the night walkers. Doesn’t sound real pretty, sorry I couldn’t warn you. Some folks don’t remember, some do.”

“Dropping..” She sighed and put her hands palm down on the table before picking up her nice large, warm coffee. “What kind of moron do you think I am, or what kind of freaks are you and your two shadow buddies? Am I supposed to suddenly go ‘Oh, he saved me, I must trust him with everything!’?”

Mirall’s grin managed to widen. “I’m not asking for anything but my coat. I offered you explanations, but I can’t help if they don’t fit your world.” He reached across the table to snag his jacket. Tisa felt a pang at the loss, even though it had never been her’s and it wouldn’t have fit right anyway. “But you might want to ask why those night walkers are being so persistant in tagging your tail.”

She was getting mad. Enough of the cloaks and daggers. “Okay, and why are those ‘night walkers’, which by the way, means ‘hooker’ in this part of the world and they certainly aren’t, chasing me?”

“‘Cause m’dear, you have something they want.” He stood up to shrug into his jacket.

“Well, duh.” she replied with the sarcasm and scorn off the teenager she’d once been and had gotten her tossed out of her parent’s house.

“You might want to be asking yourself what that is. I wouldn’t know.” He turned to leave in a swirl of leather.

“Hey.” She stopped him, curiousity winning over common sense and street smarts for a moment. “Dropping shape? What did yiou turn into? A werewolf?”

He snorted, looking quite offended. “Please.” He then shrugged as if settling fur, “I am a big fucking cat.”

Eyebrow raised at the disaply of what she hoped was insanity, Tisa watched the man turn sideways and duck to get back out onto the dark street. Insane or not, he had a point. Those thugs wanted her for a reason and it was obviously time to relocate. It was a bit early to be heading up valley, there wouldn’t be much transient work, but she could find an empty summer home to squat in none the less.

She downed the last of her coffee and put the paper back. She remembered her grandma once saying courtesy didn’t cost you nothing and it always brought good returns. She idealley wondered if all the small acts of courtesy she tried to do equalled one big mother fucker showing up to save her ass in a darkened alley.

Everyone was tired, covered in muck and mud but their Paladin. While they bandaged their wounds and healed from spells, he cleaned his armour. Seonaed was starting to think him more than slightly insane. Tagliente and Shey didn’t seem to think anything of it, so maybe all Paladins were bugnut crazy. This one certainly did eat bugs..

They rounded the corner to find Bertoxxulus sitting on his throne looking very smug. He smiled a wide toothy grin and settled back. “Ah, here you are again M’dear. And a shortage of people to bring you back after I rip your head off and spit down your throat.”

“He’s ugly.” Seonaed brilliantly observed.

“Thank you.” Bertoxx said, quite seriously. “And you too are about to be dog meat. Nice to meet you.” He peered short sightedly at the group, “And a couple Iksar, how quaint. You should hear the things that I have planned for your race..” He looked at narrowed eyes and thrashing tails. “Oh, well, maybe next time. Maybe I’ll enslave your spirits here and tell you into eternity.”

“Boooooorrrriiing.” Tagliente muttered. “You do realize I have much better things to be doing than standing around listening to you all day?”

“Like the elf?” Bertoxx sneered.

“Well, she’d be a good start, yes.” Tagliente smiled, bowed a bow from a court long since turned to dust and summoned a plague of insects to infest the god.

“Insects? Against the god of Pestilence? INSECTS?” Bertoxx looked vaguely offended and the insects all fell to the ground dead.

“Good point.” Tagliente muttered.

Sheylanna stamped her foot on the ground and from the depths rose bushes errupted from between the tiles, wrapping Bertoxx in their thorny embrace, delicate pink flowers errupting all over.

As Bertoxx started to sneeze his way free from the plants, Kydaan became a wood elf once more, pulling out ancient bow and firing arrows at a blurred speed.

Keese called upon Rodcet Nife and recieved no answer to her calls, her powers fizzling. Bob placed a flipper on her shoulder, “Wait. It will come.”

Seonaed followed Rassis in a charge upon the monsterous god. Hacking at bits of him to get little more than bits of green ichor on her sword as the monk smacked at a shin.

“OW. Stop that!” Bertoxx growled, having freed an arm he swept Rassis back and away.

Bob sighed, and looked up. “I suppose I could let them, but it would take forever. And I’m tired.” He hopped past the caster and priests. He picked Seonaed up and placed her behind him and made a shoing gesture and was ready with his two handed sword when Bertoxx broke free of the thorns and roses.

“YOU!” Bertoxx growled, eyes widening, skittering back towards his throne. “Impossible! You died, you disappeared, you were gone!”

“Gone, but not forgotten.” Bob smiled that froggie smile and started growing, shifting, changing into an impossibly large human in silver armour, flowing brown hair with a paladin’s moustache.

“Mith Marr.” Sheylanna breathed in awe. Then, “You son of a bitch! Where the hell have you been?!”

“At the bottom of a lake.” He replied calmly, his voice rumbling amongst the halls. “You.” He pointed at Bert with his sword. “Have long since outlived your usefulness and purpose. I was given a vision from the GMs, a vision of what would be the future. These mighty warriors could eventually defeat you, but it would take half the world and more time than the short lived might want to give. So I was offered the chance, that if I sacrificed my beloved people -”

“The frickin’ slimey frogs.” Bert grumbled.

“Neither Frogloks nor frogs are slimey,” Mith Marr refused to be distracted, “if I sacrificed the Frogloks, I could save the world.” His eyes narrowed, “and here I am.”

“And what are you going to do?” Bertoxx snickered, “You’re no more powerful than I am! Our battles would be even longer and destroy the planes as well as the world!”

“Very true.” Mith Marr offered a hand to Seonaed, “But you do not have a creator on your side.” The god turned and smiled down at the young warrior, “If you will allow me to focus your incredible powers my dear? While you could, would and will eventually learn them well enough to be rid of this fiend, better now than later.” He did not mention the wartorn creature Seonaed would become, grey in hair and beant of body. Free will was an important thing to the god of truth and light.

Seonaed looked up at the shining figure, a being that represented everything she tried to believe in and wasn’t quite sure she always succeeded. “I trust you.” She told him.

A powerful thing unto itself was truth, Mithaniel thought, and gathered her powers gently into his own being and said the words he’d been holding for centuries. “command, find all instance Bertoxxulous. Delete.”

“You son of..” Bertoxx finally worked up the courage to launch himself at his fellow god, disappearing in a shower of sparks halfway to him.

“That’s IT?” Sheylanna yelped. “Centuries of hardwork, blood, sweat, tears and death and that’s it? You march in here and make him poof? Where the hell were you four hundred years ago?!”

“I am limited in what I am allowed to do, young elf.” Mithananiel let go of Seonaed’s hand, her powers returning to her. “I have to play the game as much as he did. While I was given special permission..” He shook his massive head, “I still cannot break the laws. That is why people like her are around, for when the rules need to be broken.”

“I came to you!” She marched up to him and poked him in the shin. “I came to you in your temple with forty other supplicants, I beat you in battle to gain your wisdom and what do you tell me? Evil always return to the same place! But it didn’t, did it? No, you sent me on a wild goose chase that made my kin think I”m crazy!”

“You are crazy, you’re an elf.” Mith Marr commented, shrinking to a more reasonable size. “And if you hadn’t gone to the bottom of Lake Rathe, who would have found and released me?” He patted Sheylanna on the arm. “Come now, it may all seem a neat little package, but really, everything was quite knotted and confused for a good deal of time. You think it’s was easy being a statue for so long? Knowing my people were being corrupted, tortured and harmed? Knowing there was pain and suffering I could prevent but musn’t for the greater good? To feel Luclin explode, the thousands upon thousands within gasping for air and failing? There are no finishes, no answers. There are two first brood dragons loose on the world, there is still a power mad ex-Paladin out there who I may not touch, there is good, there is evil and there is the balance in between that must be maintained. This wasn’t an ending, this was keeping an out of balance power in check.”

“So that’s it? I spent my whole life striving for this and you say, hey, not even a bookmark?” Sheylanna leaned back against Tagliente, the dark elf wrapping his arms around her.

“Bah. Of course not. Your life isn’t over. There’s still plenty for you to do. Just for starters there’s the known universe’s greatest library that needs guardians until Norrath is ready once more to access the Plane of Knowledge.”

“That does sound good,” Tagliente murmered, eyes lusting for sight of the knowledge in the endless supply of books.

“See? ANd you have love, that is an important thing.” Mithaniel smiled, “So stop feeling sorry for yourself and go live your lives. I have a temple to clean up.” He started to fade. “Bet those rusty hunks of armour have done nothing but stand around looking confused for a few hundred years while the cats shed everywhere..”

Kydaan stretched and walked over to his sister. “I have an apprentice to claim and an evil son of a bitch to watch.” He gave her a hug and messed up her hair before turning to his great-many times Neice. “If you’re ever in Freeport, look me up. I’m the only Ranger.” He rubbed his ring and disappeared.

Sheylanna kissed her great-times-daughter on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” she said before she and Tagliente disappeared in blue light.

“What?! What about me?”

“What about you?” Rassis grumbled, picking up his staff, “YOU get to go back to Qeynos and become a mighty paladin, protecting the world from the evils of Freeport. *I* have to go plan a wedding.” He grumbled to himself, stalking towards the portal across from the throne. “Oh wah, I get powers and riches and fame. While the silly lizard has to go figure out how to feed four hundred on no budget. Oh how life is so unfair to the mighty pretty paladin.” He stepped in and disappeared.

Keese looped her arm through Seonaed’s, “You really are welcome to stay with us for a while. Get used to things. Have a few friends around.”

Seonaed sighed, “Shouldn’t I be waking up the world?”

“Well, I’m no creator or anything, but I wouldn’t want to be near any cranky dragons when they’re woken up. And from all the lore, Vox wakes up MEAN.”

Seonaed thought about this. “You’re right. She can wait.”

* * *

I was never particularly happy with this ending. It was awfully coincedental and contrived.  But at least I wrapped it up.

Rassis poked Kydaan in the wolfy shoulder. “YOU’RE the Ranger, YOU go scout.”

Kydaan turned his head and started to groom his tail.

Rassis considered wacking the elf with his staff. “I KNOW you can talk in that form. SHE does all the time.” He gestured at Sheylanna who was smiling in amusement.

Kydaan’s ears twitched but continued to ignore the monk.

“Elves. Go fig.” Bob offered, scraping the last of the crud off his impossibly shiny armour.

Rassis headed down the hall muttering to himself in Iksar. Something about the old ways, cookpots and large fires.

“So, uh..” Seonaed said, “Do we just stand here?”

“Oh yes, long standing tradition. The group stands around waiting while the scout throws themself off into danger to lure a few of the nasties to come to us. We then defeat those nasties and send the scout off to find some more.” Sheylanna was fixing her hair in the reflection of her shield.

“That’s bizarre. Why not just go find the nasties as a group?” Seonaed asked. “What if the nasties don’t want to come to you?”

“They ALWAYS want to come to us.”

“INCOMING!” Rassis yelled, scattering debris as he raced back down the hall. He dived between Seonaed and Bob, to clutch at his throat, ack, and fall limp at Tagliente’s feet.

“Wha..?” Seonaed asked, turning.

“He’s faking, watch out for Zombies!” Tagliente gestured at the shambling monsters coming their way.

“Great, lets ask them for directions instead of wandering the halls for six hours looking for their boss.” Seonaed mumbled.

“Ohh, she is the daughter of a druid.” Tagliente grinned.

“Oh.. shut up.” Sheylanna told him, sending a jet of flame into the nearest zombie.

“OH GODS.” Seonaed gasped, swinging her sword, “Slime, putressence and burning zombie. This place stinks.”

“Ack!” Seonaed spluttered, picking herself up front the dripping slime that was apparently the welcome mat.

Sheylanna shuddered and tried to scrape the foul smelly substance off her armour. “I’m having flashbacks to Guk and Jalelin’s sense of humour.”

Tagliente snickered, “That was delightful. ‘eeeek, I’ll get my armour dirty’” he mimicked,”‘Eeeeek!’ Splat!” He snickered some more.

Sheylanna shoved a handful of slime down the back of his robes.

“Children, please.” Bob muttered, “A thousand years old, and they frolick in the muck. Oh thank you Tunare for creating elves.”

Rassis held his tail high, “I suppose they’re supposed to be good for morale.” He stepped carefully out of the pool and looked down the dark, dank corridors built of yellow bricks.

“They make nice bows, I suppose.” Bob agreed, hopping out of the pool.

“Only the young ones. The old one’s guts aren’t flexible enough.” Rassis agreed. Bob looked momentarily horrified, “I was jesting.” The Iksar told him. “I don’t make weaponry out of beings that ‘eeek’”

Keesa helped Seonaed wade through the goo and the two young woman stood on the edge as well. Taglienet and Sheylanna eventually followed suit.

“Now which way?” Seonaed asked, watching a spider crawl past and realizing time had started again.

“His world wasn’t effected. The planes work differently. Save your energies.” Bob explained, looking back and forth between the choices of the hallways before turning to Sheylanna.

Eyes narrowed she pointed, “That way. Bertoxx lies that way.”

“Couldn’t we have found a nice dragon that needed slaying?” Seonaed muttered, grabbing a torch and leading the way down the corridor, “Who in tehir right mind picks fights with gods?”

“Elves.” Bob said with a froggie smirk.

Seonaed, Tagliente and Sheylanna followed Bob as he hoped up to Lord Nagafen. “Wake him. Uh, from the other side. Away from his mouth.”

Seonaed turned directions and told the red dragon to wake. A splurt of fire landed where she would have been standing and he turned to glare at her. “I HATE that spell.” He growled. “Dragons are the bones of this world, we know what is cast on us even if we cannot stop it.”

“Yes, yes,” Bob froaked, hopping up, “Bit more important though, do you have enough of that portal energy to send us through?”

Nagafen snorted, “Of course, but why would you wish to go?”

“Because Bertoxx still needs to be stopped,” Seonaed said in a small voice. “And I guess I better stop him.”

“You’ll have help.” Bob reassured the young warrior. “But we’ll have to hurry, none of you can eat or drink while time is stopped. Choose three more companions.”

It wasn’t hard to choose, she woke Kydaan who nearly bit her hand off, and then licked it in apology before loping over to his sister. She’d have to call him “Uncie Kydaan” a few times for revenge. She then woke Rassis and Keesa. They might not be “old world” but they were friends.

Keesa looked over her shoulder at Shanzule who had been crouched over her to take a spear thrust that had been meant for her. “He’ll be here when we get back.” Rassis grumbled, tugging his sister’s tail.

“I know.” Keesa whispered and then turned back to kiss a scaled cheek. “Just in case.” She then scurried to the group.

Nagafen waved a scaled claw over the seven, “Have a fun trip kiddies. Bring back something nice.”

Swirls of dark green and black energy surrounded them and took them away.

Nagafen settled down to wait. “Not that there’s anything nice to be found in Bertox’s fetid world of slime.” He pulled a book out of the pouch around his neck.

“They could have at least woken Vox for me.” He grumbled.

Seonaed wasn’t surprised to find the Frog kneeling in front of the supposed sword of Mithreal Marr in the great temple. Tagliente still carried Sheylanna in his arms. Seo wondered why he hadn’t removed the sword in their journey through the city but life and death was hardly her devoted knowledge of centuries.

She walked up to the froglok and touched his shoulder. “Wake up” she told him.

The frog rocked to his feet to face her and looked around with a brow raised. “You’ve stopped the world. Why?”

Seonaed was surprised he knew of what she did, “How did you know it was me?”

He smiled, “Because I can see with the eyes of the beyond.” He turned to look at Tagliente and Sheylanna. “Ah, your ancestress. Place her on the altar.”

“Can you bring her back?” Seonaed asked, hovering.

“If she wishes to return. Not even a god can bring back the unwilling.” He eyed Tagliente. “Though, I hear a Necromancer can.”

Tagliente rolled his eyes, “And one would assume a god of darkness could do the same.”

The Froglok smiled a froggie smile. “A good point. One I had not considered.” He turned to Seonaed, “Wake her.”

Seoaned shuddered and put her hand on Sheylanna’s chillded cheek. “Wake up?”

Blood started to fall on the altar, Sheylanna’s arm fell off the edge and brushed the temple’s floor.

The Paladin leaned forward and grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled it out in one easy pull. “Sheylanna Crystaltear, daughter of Mista, sister of Kydaan Leafspirit, return!”

Light flashed through the temple and Sheylanna screamed. Seonaed’s eyes finished sparkling to see her ancesstress gasping for breath, hand on breast while Tagliente kissed every available part of skin.

The froglok smiled, “Haven’t done that for a while.” He turned to Seonaed, taking her elbow and guiding her away from the altar, “Now, why don’t you explain this whole situation to an old warrior.”

“I don’t even know your name.” Seonaed protested, looking over her shoulder at the couple hugging on the altar.

That stopped him, he thought for a moment, “How about Bob?” he finally said.

“BOB?” Seonaed spluttered, “What kind of name is Bob?”

That froggie smile again, “Well, it’s popular with the ladies..”

She walked between the frozen beings to the hallway beyond where she could see Ratonga in mid-charge to join the fray. But they didn’t move either. The frothed saliva falling from their lips didn’t fall to the ground. The torches in their paws didn’t flicker. All light seemed to be provided from unknown source. She was having no trouble seeing in what should be a darkened place to her mostly-human eyes.

She went back into the cavern, past a banshee that was in the middle of passing through one of the six-legged centaurs, dragging the centaur’s soul out with her. Neither moved.

What kind of power did she possess that she could stop the world? How did she get it started again? Could she start it for some and not others?

She waded through the unyeilding enemy until she found Sheylanna’s fallen body. The druid had a sword through her breast, dug into the ground on the other side. The goblin who had killed her twice the size of a normal goblin, bulging muscles, tusks and crazed red eyes.

Keesa had said she was unable to bring back beings from death, but there was one in this room who was of old lore than should be able to. Seonaed half-ran across the room and shook Tagliente to no avail, the dark elf just ended up falling backwards, sprawled in the reaching pose.

Seonaed grabbed him, “DAMNIT WAKE UP!” She slapped him.

He back handed her, sending her stumbling back. By the time she regained her balance Tagliente was staring at the room with fascination. “My dear, you have far outreached my expectations.”

Seo ignored his words and grabbed him by the hand to haul him over to Sheylanna. “YOU’re a necromancer. Bring her back!”

Tagliente sagged to his knees, “While I could steal the life force of another and force it into her.. do you think she would thank me for it?” He gathered up the stiff body in his arms, brushing her hair. “She would hate me for eternity and beyond, and worse, I would hate myself.”

“WHAT?!” Seonaed’s frustration built into a punch that sent the dark elf across several frozen kobolds. “I hear nothing but the power of the ancients. Nothing but the strength of your magics, the unlimited potential to your abilities,” she strode over to him, “and you NOW tell me that you WON’T do it?” She grabbed him by the front of his robes, “You try and tell me you won’t save the one damn person on this planet who believed in me? That loves YOU? That has a pure heart and..” she had to let Tagliente fall to the ground to wipe her nose on her vambrace. “..you would just leave her here?”

Tagliente ground his teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his cheek. He feared the god-child had just smashed his cheek bone to smithereens. “Of course I don’t want Shey to die!” He snarled back, getting to his feet, “But *I* can do nothing for her! You would need a cleric of the old world!” He gestured at Lucan, “If HE hadn’t turned to the darkside, HE could call her back.” He stopped and then shrugged, sinking back to the ground. “But then, he too would be dust in the grave.”

“A Paladin you say?” Seonaed asked, “Of the old world?” She looked out of the tunnel, up towards the surface. “They could save her?”

Tagliente rolled his eyes, “Yes. A Paladin of the old world could bring breath to her body.” A tried to drink wine from the flask tied to his belt, but the liquid wouldn’t move. Just wonderful.

“The frog.” Seonaed told him, as if this was the answer to everything.

“WHAT frog?” Tagliente growled.

“The frog we took from the first place.” Seonaed said, grabbing Tagliente. “You get her body, we’re going to Qeynos.”

“Are we?” He muttered, picking up Sheylanna’s unnaturally stiff form. “As long as someone knows why.”

Seonaed took the ring off Antonia’s finger and tossed it to Tagliente. “Rub it, think happy Qeynosian thoughts and I’ll meet you there.”

Dubiously, he rubbed the ring and faded in sparkles of yellow. Seonaed followed suit.

Shanzule and Rassis were fighting back to back with Keesa inbetween. They were surrounded by ratman who had been twisted by chaos magic, goblins who looked melted and kobolds who were beyond deformed.

“Incoming” Keesa warned and the two Iksar jumped as she touched the ground. Light shot out in a circle from beyond them, disintegrating everything it touched. Twenty of the enemy fell, but forty more poured out of the portal to replace them.

“I don’t suppose,” Shanzule started, cleaving a goblin in half with his heavy two handed blade, “We can consider this a courtship trial?”

“You can,” Rassis replied, repeatibly bashing a would-be Kobold several times until the skull shattered, “But I don’t.”

“Don’t I get a say?!” Keesa growled, ducking the axe of what she thought was an Orc and smashed back with her mace.

“No.” The two male replied at once.

“I should flatten the both of you.” She could feel enough energy around her once more and warned them, “Incoming!” They jumped as she sent the destructive light out.

Lucan was somewhat surprised when the axe bit through his armour and into his side. The two-headed hill giant was more surprised when his victime ripped the axe out and dropped it, to grab the giant’s leg as blood poored out of his side.

The Giant screamed in pain and seemed to age a hundred years in a few seconds, life essence draining and it fell a wizened husk to the ground. Lucan looked ten years younger and completely healed.

He gave Antonia behind him a sardonic smile. “Hiding behind your enemy, M’lady?”

“You’re the brute with the broadsword.” She growled, lifting her staff to send a storm of fire into the enemy, burning several up. “And the knight.” She sent a blast of lightning from her other hand, destroying what might once have been an elephant, “So isn’t it your job to protect the lady?”

Lucan looked mildly impressed, “Why, I suppose it is.” He turned a duck into a bow, and cut the whatever-it-was’ legs out from underneath it. “But its a shame to get blood all over your pretty dress.”

“It’ll be shame to get shit on my boots from kicking your ass, too!” She shot back, wrenching her way out of the path of a flight of arrows.

Lucan laughed, “Ah, it is too bad you were born so late in my existance.”

Antonia wasn’t sure if she should be disgusted or flattered. Instead she sent a ball of ice into the fray, freezing and then fracturing a host of the enemy.

Kydaan twisted out of the way of the sword descending towards his back and hamstrung the goblin with his teeth before changing back to an elf to cut two swords into two foes; both swords spitting lightning. The swords were let go and hovered while he pulled his bow to stop goblins that had circled behind Antonia. “Lady! Can you focus this energy to good use?” The mana field was making his silver hair stand on end.

“Are you MAD?” Antonia called back. She was having enough trouble focusing her staff as it was. Try to focus the energy?! “Was every being born before the cataclysm born without a brain?” She growled to herself, throwing bolts of lightning towards six legged centaur.

“No, just too much ego for our own good.” Sheylanna commented, ducking between the mage and the once-paladin. Mydrid and Seonaed were battling the creatures while Tagliente fought from behind.

For every creature that lost its hold on life, it rose from the ground in his control. The graveyard dust he’d gathered from Freeport’s graves brought him ghosts and spectres, that while they did no real damage, were causing chaos and shivers amongst the enemy. And of the elves who had been buried in Qeynos, some had agreed to assist. These produced banshees, women who shrieked and wailed from beyond the grave to scare the enemy to death.

From the look on Seonaed’s face, they were doing much for her morale either.

Sheylanna called to the earth spirit of the cavern, roots came from below to trip, from the sides to strange and sink holes appeared to entrap. She called on the elements of fire and earth to destroy with spells, while her magical scimitar bit deeply into the enemy.

Seonaed watched her ancestress wade out into the enemy away from support. Did the ancients all think themselves immortal? At least Keesa was sensible, surrounded by would-be-lover and brother. One of Tagliente’s creations brushed her and she almost threw up from the feeling of the grave that went through her.

Finally, after what seemed like thousands of the enemy came through the portal, it winked out of existance. The cavern suddenly dark until eyes adjusted to the meagre light from Antonia’s staff and the various magical weapons.

The enemy howled and renewed their attack with enthusiasm. Lady Vox turned on her tail and splattered several of the enemy that dared attack her. Nagafen backed up, but neither dragon seemed willing to wade into the fray yet. Seonaed thought they looked off colour at best, but still a little help would be nice.

And then Sheylanna went down under a goblin’s sword and didn’t get back up.

“HOLY TUNARE, STOP!” Seonaed didn’t recognize her own voice as she yelled, surprised to find her own hand outstretched, forgotten sword clattering on the stone ground.

And the world had stopped. Nothing moved. No one breathed. Drops of blood from a gash on Antonia’s forehead stopped in mid-fall. Nothing changed. No sound was made.

Seonaed looked around in confusion.

Skipping a whole bunch of combat. Basically the two raids.. er, I mean, groups of people fight their way down under the earth. They eventually meet under the earth in a huge cavern where .. oh, look, it’s the Fear portal! But it’s the wrong colour.

* * *

Antonia followed the Necromancer and the Druid. Sheylanna had taken the form of the wolf while Tagliente had shown his true powers by assuming the form of the great master of undead ; a Liche. Antonia had but shuddered at the though of such a creature in her bed. How could a druid, a priestess of life, stand being near him let alone touching him?

Blood dripped from her staff, her robes were ripped from the claws of Ratonga, her hair and skin singed from their spells. And she held less wounds than anyone else but Tagliente since touching him in his current form seemed to suck the life energy out of beings and straight into him. She’d refused to let him heal her with it - she’ preferred Sheylanna’s healing touch. Even if the druid had diplomatically failed to point out it was Tagliente who was refueling her energies.

As they stumbled into the giant cavern, stepping over the fallen bodies of the last of the Ratonga guards Antonia saw a huge shimmering portal. It went from dark green to black to light green and every colour in between. It was held between two massive pillars with a ramp that went up to it. Scattered around the portal was what looked like a mix between a refinery and a magicican’s labratory. Bits of ore, paper strewn about, tables and chairs overturned.

And across the way her worst enemy, the being of her nightmares strode in, sword charged with dark energy, leading a group of Iksar and Dark Elves.

Sheylanna bounded across the cavern, a dark wolf meeting a sandy wolf in the middle. She bit his tail lightly, he smacked her with a front paw. Her brother, Antonia decided. It had only one eye.

Lucan strode to the middle to stare up at the portal. “This thing is active, isn’t it?”

Antonia came up to him, his Shadow Knights standing honour guard behind her. “Yes.” She could feel the power of the thing, the immense draw on the energy field of Norrath. Draining, pulling, demanding. “No wonder we haven’t had as much power to play with as the ancients.” She held a hand up towards the field.

Lucan gave the young human a half smile, “Could you claim it all for Qeynos?”

She looked startled, “No.” She then stared at him, “YOU could claim it for Freeport?”

He smiled, “Easily.” He gave her a half-salute, “But where would be the fun in that?” He turned and strode down the ramp.

“Why hasn’t the God come through yet? The Lady says its working just fine.” He sheathed his sword, cutting off the display of dark power.

Keesa shook her head fins. “I do not know.”

Sheylanna shifted back to her elven self and smiled tightly, “I know why. He wants us to come through to him. He wants to end this for once and for all. He wants to kill us in his world so he can come through unchallenged, or for us to destroy him and put him out of his misery and create a great disbalance.”

“Wonderful.” Antonia grumbled, shifting on tired feet.

“I assume you have another plan, elf?” Lucan asked, taking a goblet of liquid from one of the female dark elves. He rightened a chair and sat down, apparently happy to drink a goblet of wine in front of the gateway to corruption.

Sheylanna looked at Kydaan with a grim look, he sat back on his haunches. “Oh yes, we have a much better plan. Over three hundred years we helped Lord Nagafen and Lady Vox turned their Goblins from barbaric, uncivilized, stupid creatures into something that could truly serve them. They are here to help us.”

One of Lucan’s knights stepped up, his armour darkening to blood red, his features taking on a scaled visage as he grew into the great dragon of fire. He was joined from Antonia’s ranks, one of her mages’ robes disappearing into pale blue scales and the Lady of Ice stood next to her lover for the first time in millenia.

“We will be even, elf.” Nagafen hissed. He lowered his head to peer at Lady Antonia. “But, I will be willing to negotiate visitation rights to your library in the future.”

Vox nipped his wing. “One problem at a time.”

Nagafen snorted in exasperation and moved to stand behind one of the pillars, Vox moved across from him. She looked over her shoulder, “I suggest you get out of our way.”

Kydaan nodded and herded his companions to the front of the portal while Sheylanna moved her’s behind.

“What do we expect to happen?” Seonaed asked Antonia, whom she found herself standing beside.

Antonia turned to look at the warrior with some surprise and replied “I have no idea. I hope someone tells me before it happens.”

Seonaed didn’t feel patricularly reassured.

The two dragons sat back on their haunches and did statue impressions. Lucan looked unimpressed, Antonia tried to not look nervous as the dragons drew magic off the portal.

The portal wavered, glowing brighter and darker. Sheylanna’s shield glowed in the flashes of dark. Tagliente’s eyes glowed a dark forest green.

The portal disappeared and reappeared. It shrank. It grew. It shrank again. And then from its depths spewed the creatures of corruptions. Giants with two heads, sentiant slimes, warped lizardmen, Ogres with boils and pusses and creatures Antonia could not even put a name to.

Lucan stepped forward, drawing blade, “Ah, show time.” He declared with an eager flourish.

The army of corruption quickly overflowed onto the companions.

Sheylanna climbed out the window to find Tagliente lying on the roof, arms behind his head, muttering to himself. Rolling her eyes at his fascination with heights, she climbed up to lie down beside him. He unfolded an arm to wrap around her.

“Do you ever wonder what is beyond the veil of stars?” Tagliente mused, pulling a lock of hair from his mouth. “We thought there was nothing to see before, and there was a moon hidden from our eyes. What lies beyond?”

Sheylanna rolled her eyes in good humour. “Somewhere, beyond the veil is a world like ours. A world of power, of nature, of people, of trials, tribulations, gods, and mortals. And on that world, lying on some cold roof, with his entirely too tolerant lover, is a man staring at the stars wondering what’s beyond them.”

Tagliente poked her. “You take the fun out of this.”

“Well,” she said, propping herself up on her side so she could gaze down upon him, “Here’s a thought for you. We know the Plane of Hate still exists, we know the Crypt of Dispair is still about, that means the Plane of Knowledge is probably still out in the ether as well.”

Tagliente smiled, “Now that is a nice thought my dear. Of course, the downside is, in the last stages of the war, the only ones left in the library were the Gnomes. I’m sure they’ve blown up half the buildings by now.”

“And eaten all the sandwiches.” Sheylanna offered, remembering Liptik’s love of a good ham sandwich. She got a chuckle.

The two stared up at the dark skies for long minutes. “Is that what you wish to do when this is done? Seek a way back to the library of knowledge?”

“Over?” Sheylanna echoed, “I’m not even sure it can be over? For centuries I’ve fought corruption and Bertoxx’s attempts to destroy the balance. Can it ever be over?”

Tagliente’s smile grew, “Alright, perhaps not over.. but do you not think perhaps after this great battle it’s time to let others pick up your sword? After all, you have a perfectly good family of insane warriors to do battle against darkness for you.”

“Hmph. They don’t seem to be battling you much.” In fact, as far as Shey had been able to tell when she was actually in the house and not in the grove or at the castle, he was being spoiled rotten.

“Ah, well, what lady can resist an asset as fine as mine?” He teased.

“Even if you do all your thinking with it.” Shey teased back.

Tagliented flipped onto her with the speed he rarely displayed, “Now my dear, I am male, your confusing the front from the back again.” He kissed her, “I think with entirely different parts of my anatomy.”

“But oh my Mister Dark Elf, I am but a silly druid, I don’t understand anatomy at all. I do believe you’re going to have to teach me!” She giggled falsely.

Tagliente attempted a long suffering sigh with a giggling blonde in his arms, “Again? You don’t seem to be studying very hard.”

Shey wiggled, “That’s not my department.”

“My tombstone is going to say ‘worn out by bratty elf of light’” He said rolling off and getting to his feet, holding out his hand to her. As much as he liked their location, he didn’t think the mostly human populance around them would care for the view.

“And the second line would be ‘Couldn’t have died with a bigger smile on his face.’” She countered, taking the offered hand and letting him pull her to her feet.

“My, that’s an expensive sounding head stone.” Tagliente mused, grabbing her and tossing her over his shoulder to gain a yip of protest, “I must earn it somehow I suppose..” He climbed back in the window of their bedroom. “I hope you appreciate the sacrifices I make!” he told her backside, giving it a pat. He earned himself a knee-nudge to the shoulder.

“Ah, a fiesty wench are ye? Well, they be charged extra.” He pulled her off his shoulder to toss her onto the bed, Shey landing with giggle and bounce. “I’m going to hold out for respect and consideration!”

Shey raised an eyebrow, smothering giggles, “Boy, aren’t you going to be holding for a long time coming.”

That gained a lavicious grin, “You have no idea.”

Seonaed’s knowledge of goblins was pretty neglible, but she was pretty sure they didn’t normally copy scrolls and books. She’s spent almost fifteen minutes hiding in a corner of the scriptorium waiting for there to be a break for her to slip past. The map Sheylanna had provided her with was crude at best and apparently when the druid was last here she’d just slaughtered her way through. Seonaed wasn’t sure how her great-great could have killed all these goblins.. they seemed too much like people to her.

The walls were caked with ice and in more than one place the cobblestones of the floor were slippery. Fortunately the residents seemed used to profanity following a large thump since they didn’t investigate the times she’d fallen.

Bells echoed through the ancient keep and the goblins all finished up the bit they were working on and companionably chatting they headed off into other parts of the keep. Seonaed let out a tension breath and continued on her way into the depths.

She came to a hole where there was supposed to be a satircase. Instead there was a slide. Wondering why she’d agreed to this in the first place Seonaed pulled her sword harness and sword off her back and hugging it slid down the slide.

She slid through a room with chairs, a room that echoed the sounds of bleeting sheep and into a cavern with a very large white dragon playing cards with three ice giants.

Seonaed slid right to the feet of the dragon and stumbled to her feet before the dragon could decide to take one step to the left and call for a cleanup. “My Lady Vox!” Seonaed managed, bowed, dropped her sword, picked up her sword and bowed again.

The dragons eyes narrowed and her head lowered to sniff Seonaed. “You smell of Qeynos. You smell of flowers and freedom and change. You bring power to my home.” She put down the cards that were half the size of Seonaed. “What is it you wish daughter of elves?”

Seonaed supposed she shouldn’t be surprised at the perceptions of a being that supposedly came from the race that made up the bones of the world. If Sheylanna was ancient and wise, what was this being who had been born when the elven race was young? “Sheylanna Crystaltear has sent me to you to bring you the message that it’s time.”

Lady Vox smiled a tight lipped smile. “Time.” Her head stretched to reach the top of the cavern and she scratched her horns against the hard ice, a rain of snow and ice falling onto the winter giants, Seonaed she sheltered with a wing. “Yes, it is time.”

“Sheylanna said to tell you that when the double moons rise, it is time to fly.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Lady Vox said, getting up on all fours and shaking herself much like a dog. “I think it is time to fly now. Bregal, get my saddle.”

“Saddle?” Seonaed wondered as she watched the ice giant get up and go further into the cavern, only to return with a leather saddle and straps affair.

“You’re not worried by heights are you, daughter of elves?” Vox seemed to tease as Seonaed’s eyes grew wider.

“Uh.. no.” She managed as Vox lay back on her belly and gestured with a wing.

“Good, then you shall see the skies as only dragons and a few goblins have.” Lady Vox smiled happily, tail flicking merrily about.

Seonaed scrambled up wing and scales to settle in the saddle. Bregal helped her strap in. She barely remembered to get back into her sword harness before the dragon lumbered to her feet and practically pounced her way down a large cavern and out into the snowy mountains.

Vox called back, “You ready, daughter of elves?”

Before Seonaed could do more than tighten her grip on the horn of the saddle, Vox fell off the cliff in front of her, diving down at speeds towards the ground that made Seonaed wonder if the chosen one could go splat.

Suddenly the dragon’s wings snapped out and she followed the ground before sailing up on a current. Vox laughed with glee, wings launching her up into the azure sky.

Seonaed was reciting the long list of profanity she’d learned from her brothers.

Cydid wiped sweat from his forehead and climbed over yet another rock that stank of the moldy sulpherous covering and was warm to the touch. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to live in the middle of volcano. There was such a thing as being too hermit like. He’d travelled by many nice mountains that would have been more pleasant.

He should have been suspicious when Kydaan taught him the speeded movement of druids and rangers right after teaching him how to hide himself from all but magically endowed eyes. He still wasn’t quite convinced he had that part down.

Goblins lived in the caves, but they acted strangely. They didn’t bicker among themselves and they acted with some degree of civilization. Cydid passed a room that had a collection of scrolls that didn’t look like it had just cassually been throw there. There was evidence of plates and silverware that actually looked like it was properly used in the large dininghall. Tho, by the smell of the food, some things about Goblins never changed.

Finally he came to the centre of the volcano, the heat was blistering causing him to drink the potion his master had given him. Instantly it was like he was standing by the ocean in Freeport. Was this what it had been like in the old world? Magic at your fingertips to make life luxerious? Cydid had a pang for an era he’d never known.

It wasn’t hard to find the owner of the mountain, he was curlced up large flat rock surrounded by pools of lava. His tail every so often dipping into the flowing stone. In one of his gigantic paws was an elven book. (Or at least, so Cydid guessed from the cover style) The half-dark elf froze at his first sight of an ancient and large dragon.

The dragon’s scales were the colour of blood and shifted shades in the magmatic light, large horns spiked from his head and neack and his claws, well cleaned, were the size of portocullis spikes. As Cydid gasped for breath, the dragon’s mighty head swung towards him. “You are a fool, a very bad thief or a scout.” The head tilted to one side as Cydid shivered in fear from the deep, rumbling voice. “Actually, they would all be the same thing.” The dragon carefully put down his book and rolled to his feet to pad over to where Cydid trembled. “Why are you in my lair, little elf?”

“Ky-Ky-Kydaan sent me.” Cydid managed to say. “L-L-Lord Nagafen.”

Nagafen sat back on his haunches and studied the messenger. “Did he really?” The dragon turned over his shoulder to look at the skies viewable from the crown. “Eons ago I was imprisoned here, agreed to challenge mortals with rewards if they managed to defeat my limited self. And when the prison crumbled I remained, unsure if it was a test. Heart yearning to feel the winds, wings itching to fly. And now the ranger says it’s time, he does?”

“When the double moons rise, Muh-Muh-My Lord.” Cydid stuttered.

Nagafen smiled, a gesture that revealed rows of white, sharp teeth. “Do not panic little elf, I’ve never had a taste for eating the thinking. Souls taste foul.”

“Uh.. yes sir?” Cydid managed. The dragon’s breath did smell of rotten sheep..

Nagafen snorted his amusement on turned on his tail to return to his island. “Tell your master I will do the service for him I promised all those years ago. But he best be ready for the consequences.” He crouched on his haunches and then launched himself into the skies with a speed that caused Cydid to jump back as the backwash buffeted him.

Soon the great red dragon was but a speck circling in the sky.

Could any god be any scarier than a dragon?

Seonaed found herself wanting to swing her legs and kick the legs of her chair. Something about all the people around her being older than time or more powerful than belief made her feel three years old and way out of her depth.

The conference had started at two hours post dawn and it was almost dark. The problem was, Antonia’s advisors kept arguing with their ruler. Nono, can’t do this, it’s too dangerous. Nono, can’t do that, it might upset the locals. Nono, couldn’t possibly do anything because you might get a papercut.

Finally, even Antonia had enough and sent them from the room. Left in the room was Sheylanna who was sitting on the window sill stairing out at the city, Tagliente who was comparing swatches of silk, the three shadowknights were apparently asleep with their eyes open, and Halek, her one time stablemaster, was fixing bridles.

Antonia stood to pace around the table. “What do we know about this mine?” Her scouts hadn’t returned and she’d refused to send more.

“No offense, My Lady,” Tagliente replied, “But it’s full of Ratonga plotting the end of the world. What more do we need to know?”

She looked down her nose at the Dark Elf. “I do not know, numbers, locations, traps, dangers, how far it is to the portal, that sort of thing.”

“There are many and we are few.” Sheylanna said, turning on the sill. “Scrying has been unsuccessful, as has scouting. I suspect most of the portal formation is being done here. Qeynos’ high magi count will mask their work in the energy flows.Which means, as we go into the depths will we be destroying labratories.”

Antonia nodded, having stopped pacing. “So only those who are initiated in the ways of magic can attend.” She turned, “My personal guard will attend, of course, but .. I can not weaken the city’s defenses.” She still did not trust Freeport not to take the opportunity of a double cross but wasn’t going to say so blatantly in front of Freeport’s representatives.

“You’re coming?” Seonaed blurted out.

Antonia smiled grimly, “Yes. If Tagliente’s theory is correct, that the two mines connect in one portal room, Lucan will be there. And I would very much like to meet the leader of Freeport.”

Tagliente raised an eyebrow, Sheylanna smiled in amusement.

“I think we are done here. Shall we meet at the mariner bell near the mine as the moons rise?”

* * *

Sheylanna took Seonaed aside on their way back to her family’s home. “I need you to do something for me.”

Seonaed turned, hopeful. So far all she’d managed to do was get yelled at, be treated by a six year and generally be in the way of people talking about things she couldn’t even begin to grasp. If she could actually do something meaningful to assist the mission..

“It requires some travel, and you’ll have to remember you have depths you haven’t even begun to tap.”

Seonaed listened to the request, asked if Sheylanna was serious and then sighed, maybe if she was lucky the seasickness would kill her.

Cydid was champing at the bit with all the stupid questions and forms they had to sign and spells cast on them to detect who knows what, but Kydaan just seemed to ignore it all. They’d arrived at the castle gates and it was two hours past lunch by the time they were escorted into a room with a table and several sets of chairs.

Cydid was more than used to the banned of Freeport that was hung everywhere in the city but Kydaan walked up to it and felt the cloth and peered at it thoughtfully before choosing a chair far from the door.

Cydid sat down next to his master nervously, not even quite sure why he was here. Kydaan had said he’d teach him *everything* he knew. Maybe dealing with insane, evil dictators had something to do with that?

Two Iksar came in next, one female and one male. The female he recognizes as Keesa of course, but the male towered over her and was at least two of her wide. He was the biggest Iksar Cydid had ever seen. He winked at Cydid as he exchanged a chair for a tail friendly stool.

A third Iksar came in, bristling in weapons and chain mail so fine it could have been knit. Cydid suddenly felt a need he’d never known he wanted. To be able to afford that armour, surely one oculd buy the world! Behind the warrior came a squirrelly man and two girls who hurredly laid out food and drinks.

The two girls in plain, roughspun clothes quickly ducked out of the room as soon as they done, the human sniffed and announced that Lucan was a very busy man and would only spare twenty submarks with them.

Cydid caught his master rolling his eyes.

The ranger in training wasn’t quite sure what to expect of the ultimate leader of Freeport. He’d seen his head on the coins, of course, but was he big? small? had the artist taken license?

Lucan walked in with an aura of power. Above average height, but average in looks, Cydid still found him unable to take his eyes off him.

“So, the wood-witch didn’t lie.” Lucan growled towards the end of the table.

Kydaan smiled faintly, “You’ll find my sister’s most annoying habit is being right entirely too often.”

“Don’t expect to get out of this city alive.” Lucan told the wood elf with narrowed eyes.

Kydaan’s smile grew, “I have been in and out of your city for fifty years. I doubt anything will change in the near future.”

Lucan was about to return fire when Rassis reached forward, took an apple and started to munch loudly on it. Both of the old world warriors turned to glare at him. The monk happily ignored them both and muttered “Good grub” around bits of fruit. Keesa put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile.

Shanzule cleared his throat, “You called this meeting, our Lord’s time is valuable.”

“Ah yes.” Kydaan agreed. He pulled a scroll out of his pack and unrolled it onto the table. “This is a map of the mines. The fuzzy bits are Cydid’s scouting, unfortunately, he is not fully trained yet. Here is the entrance, here is the egg caves, which I believe we shall have to destroy on our way down. Here is where they mine the corrupted rock, we should probably destroy that too. And here is the bottom of the mine, a rather big, empty cavern that has nothing but a large silver oval.” Kydaan’s silver eyes met Lucan’s, “Sound familiar?”

“The portal to Fear was long ago destroyed.” He doubted Cazic-Thule had even noticed, the master of Fear had never had much use for direct contact to Norrath, it destroyed his mystique.

“Yes. And I suspect the harness the wizards of long ago created is now being used here. It cannot be coincidence that the rat race who prefer skulking and thieving breed so many wizards.”

Lucan grumbled. “No, no coincidence. How many Ratonga did you see in this mine?”

Kydaan exchanged a glance with Cydid, his apprentice shrugged. “Our estimate was close to six thousand.”

Lucan grinned, standing up. “Well then, Ranger, do try to keep up. It is four days to the full moon, we will meet at the outcropping north of the mine. Was there anything else?”

Rassis munched his way through a roll with some sort of sauce and meat tucked inside it.

“Good day.” The leader of Freeport swirled and walked out.

“Surely you do not plan to enter this mine with just us!” Shanzule protested. Six THOUSAND Ratonga? He knew his master’s might, but that was rediculous.

“While I do not doubt we six could probably eventually overcome, we are racing against the candle. I was hoping your elite guard would be coming along?” Kydaan’s tone was bland.

Shanzule stood, “Then I best prepare them.” He picked up the map Lucan had done no more than glance at.

Keesa gave Kydaan a brief hug before following Shanzule out the door. Kydaan rubbed his chest where his skin had grated against scale. “Even their females are prickly.”

Rassis sighed, “You have no idea. As I brother, I feel your pain.” He patted Cydid on the shoulder and strode out, tankard of cider in one paw.

Kydaan guided Cydid out as well. “That’s IT?” Cydid finally blurted, “That was the great planning session? We didn’t establish anything!”

Kydaan grinned, “Sure we did. Lucan and I established that he wants me dead and I’m not going to die. We established that we all know our roles and it is pointless to reaffirm them. We established that while there is loathing all around we will work together. We established what we must accomplish and how. Rather successful really.”

The half-dark elf blinked. “I will never understand how you do that.”

“You will in a few hundred years.” Kydaan told him.

As they were walking back down the streets towards Kydaan’s home, Kydaan decieded it was more than time. “I have a mission for you. It will be rather difficult, you will need your full abilities of stealth and bravery.”

What? Did he master want him to steal Lucan’s undershorts to hang from the flagpole?

He listened with growing awe and fear. And had to agree with Kydaan’s assessment. Sneakiness and bravery all right.

Shanzule had been puzzled and curious when he recieved the message from Keesa that she wished him to return to the palace after his morning meeting with his commanders. He was impressed she knew the importance of the morning meeting, that he did his warm ups before that and after the meeting was the best time of day before dinner for them to meet. Puzzled, however, that she wished the meeting since the woman had had little time for him previous to this even if she did sit beside him at the high table for dinner each night.

He waited in the smaller of the court rooms and was startled when Keesa’s clawed paw touched his forearm. He managed not to draw a blade on her. The woman moved much too silently for her own good.

“I apologize for not announcing my presence, I should keep in mind the weighty matters on your mind.” She said softly.

Which was the diplomatic way to put, he supposed, ’sorry for scaring your tail off, shouldn’t you be paying attention?’

“I’ve asked you to stay here with us, not just because you will be instrumental on the assault but..” She rubbed a head-fin. “well, to keep Kydaan Leafspirit and your liege from killing each other.”

Shanzule had little idea of what she was talking about but nodded like he did.

“You see, while Sheylanna was the one who killed him, Kydaan was the one who rather publicly got Lucan repudiated from his knighthood and Paladinship.”

His lord had once been a PALADIN? No wonder his hatred for them. Shanzule’s brain whirled several times, “And we need this Kydaan?”

Keesa nodded, “He is an Old One. From what I have read and researched, you and I will not even be able to look upon the corrupted one. Only the Old Ones will be able to do battle with the god himself, we will but only able to keep the minions at bay so they can do battle.”

“Only.” Shanzule echoed. He didn’t think Keesa believed any more than he that thousands of Ratonga thrummed in the mines. “You believe Bertoxx himself is in those mines?”

Keesa’s tail flipped from side to side, distracting Shanzule momentarily, “It is my belief he is building his army to take the world as at the same time as he builds his portal from .. whatever his realm is or was .. to this one. I think when we launch our attack we will force his hand and make him arrive before he is truly ready, but that will make him no less of a god.”

“And these old ones can fight gods.” He didn’t particularly question it, Lucan had said it to be true as much as any other.

Keesa nodded, turning towards the window that looked out on the merchant court outside the walls. “Those who saw the destruction of Luclan, they supposedly saw through the veil and saw beyond.. and with that sight can do things you and I could only dream of.” She tossed her head, “It gives me the creeps.”

“Oh?” He took a step to stand behind her, taking in her scent.

“I appreciate, respect and adore Sheylanna, but she’s so old.. and experienced.. and seen things that would give me screaming nightmares for years. I don’t think she really sees this world at all anymore.”

Shanzule thought about putting his hands on her shoulders, her brother was nowhere to be seen for once, but decided against it. “I am told when Elves feel their time on this world is done, they go into the woods and .. just die. Perhaps your Sheylanna would have given up this world centuries before if it were not for this quest to stop Bertoxx?”

Keesa knew she shouldn’t be startled by Shanzule’s insight. He was supposed to be one of the greatest tacticians of the live Iksar, and even if he hadn’t spent much time in Sheylanna’s company, he’d heard plenty from her and Lucan no doubt. “Yes. I believe you are right. Her, bother, on the other hand.. he is very much of this world. He is a ranger of the old ways, and very much still tough as rations.”

Shanzule made a face. “And I am to stand between the most powerful being in the eastern world and a great warrior of the old world? Is it a compliment you think I am so great a warrior, or an insult that you want rid of me?”

Keesa hissed her amusement as she turned, “Or perhaps a test?” Tail swishing in a hypnotic manner she left the room.

A test of worthiness for mating, perhaps? Shanzule grinned, perhaps her leaving her overprotective was a sign after all.

In the meantime, he supposed it was best to prepare for a fun afternoon watching his leige trying not to kill an old enemy in the name of the greater good. Perhaps he could convienently fall on his sparring partner’s sword and incompacitate himself for a day or two.. perhaps he could impress Keesa with his regenerative abilities and common sense.

He sighed, not that women recognized common sense when they saw it.

Cydid did not have much trouble finding the healer-lizard. She had made herself very popular amongst the slums offering healing and help for free to any who asked. At first the palace had sent a compliment of guards with her and her brother, then eventually even her brother stopped attending her. The slums would rise up against any who tried to harm the woman who spent hours turning crumbs into bread, who turned slivers of meat into dinner, who cured their ills and helped their children. And never did she ask for a coin or anything but a smile in return.

It was not a neighborhood Cydid was familiar with, but he altered his earth eating stride into a slither from shadow to shadow, kept hand on knife and shifted his eyes around in a practiced manner. He easily went from scout of the woods to thief of the city and those who would have thought to take advantage of him recognized it.

He waited in the shade of a closed store’s wooden awning for the healer to finish her work. She worked long after dust, until the last person who asked for help had been helped. Never once did she mention which god she worked for, never preached. The people did not understand her, but seemed grateful none the less.

She turned to Cydid as soon as she’d blessed the last. “You are Cydid, Kydaan’s apprentice, yes?”

He recognized her as the female Iksar he’d seen with Kydaan’s sister, but didn’t know her name. “I am Cydid.” he confirmed. “Kydaan needs you.”

Kareesa nodded and shouldered her pack, tucking in the canvas and wood stool she’d been sitting on. “Then we shall go.”

* * *

Kydaan pulled back the canvas cover. At one time it had been a fountain, but it was dry and cracked now, the statuette at the centre long gone. Inside was some earth, the green sickly rocks and the pulsating eggs. “If I move them too far from the rocks they start to wither.”

Kareesa nodded but made no movement to get closer. “These are great corruption. Worse corruption that the empire ever created.” She shuddered.

Kydaan’s brow furrowed and he nodded once. Cydid had no idea what they were talking about and said as much.

Kareesa seemed startled then smiled as much as an Iksar smiled. “Back in the mists of time when the Iksar people ruled the continent of Kunark, they experimented on many things. One was the eggs of dragons and they created the race of Sarnaks. I have no idea what the original intention was, but these Sarnaks were turned into slaves, eventually, as slaves will, they revolted and created their own city called “Chardok” which means “Freedom” in their own tongue. Many wars ensued.” Kareesa gestured at Kydaan’s collection, “If I am not mistaken, those were once dragon eggs, stolen from one of the lesser dragons of the wastes. They were corrupted by those .. rocks? .. and I shudder to think what they will hatch.”

She turned to Kydaan, “But I think we now know what the Freeport mines are for. The Ratonga are the grunts, these, I believe, will be the elite warriors.”

“We need to plan.” The ranger said with a sigh. “I suppose this means I don’t get to kill Lucan in the near future.”

“We need him for now.” Kareesa agreed.

Kydaan nodded, “We will meet you at his palace in the morning.” He turned to eye his apprentice, “It will probably take that long to find something suitable to cloth him in so he does not embaress me.”

Kareesa’s tail swished in amusement, “To teach him how to hide weapons beyond a guard’s ability to detect you mean.”

Kydaan’s eyebrow rose above the patch, “I surely wasn’t speaking of silks and soft leather boots.”

Cydid deflated, he thought for a moment he was going to get to look like a noble.

Tagliente was sitting in the stables of the Crystaltear estate, drinking ale with a Dwarf. The Dwarf, it turned out, was the stablemaster and had been for close to a hundred years. “So y’see, me boy,” said Dwarf continued, “There’s three generations of Crystaltear women in those doors, which is why I suggested you make sure your mounts fake limp gets properly treated.”

Tagliente raised an eyebrow and then his glass in a salute, “You are a wise man.” The thought of staying in a house, no matter how large and handsome, with three generations of Crystaltear was rather unnerving.

“And y’know, might be enough to get Granny Masa out of the grove and down here to visit. So that’d be four generations. Though you’d probably like Masa, she’s more elven and dignified than the lot.”

Considering that Mother Crystaltear and Great-Great-Granny Crystaltear were rattling the windows with their argument, at the moment, it could only be more dignified. “Are they always like this?”

“Oh yes. Warriors the lot. Every so often a priestess or healer pops up, but you can generally tell them by the fact they get as far away from the clan as soon as possible.” The Dwarf grinned a wicked grin, “Fortunately, precedent has been set and escape is not as difficult as it used to be.”

Tagliente felt sour, apparently the warrior ways of Sheylanna’s fling had bred true. An entire family of them wasn’t a thought he particularly cherished. But, he was used to dealing with houses of moody, irrational females, he supposed colour of skin shouldn’t make much difference in how to sooth them.

“Don’t suppose y’play knights and catapults?” The Dward asked hopefully. “The boys used to play, but they’ve been busy with all their knightly duties as of late.”

And on the other hand, staying away from a den of femininity for a few hours until they settled their pecking order didn’t sound like such a bad idea either.

Antonia Bayle, leader of the good city Qeynos was holding court when Sheylanna and her troop was escorted in. Several of the court who had visions into auras went for swords that weren’t at their sides. Seonaed winced to see her eldest brother in Antonia’s honour guard. Hoooy boy, she was going to hear about it. Maybe she could stick Sheylanna on him.

Antonia turned from where she was standing in front of her throne, seeming to grow three feet in anger. In truth Antonia was a small woman, barely a hand taller than Sheylanna, but she seemed ten feet tall in anger. “And what is the meaning of bringing THESE people into my city, Lady Crystaltear?”

Great-Great was knighted? Seonaed was impressed and yet not surprised. There was a great deal that was noble about her ancestress. Even when she was sucking face with a raising-the-dead-for-the-fun-of-it Necromancer.

“These are representatives of the Great City Freeport. Lord Knights Jarden D’Blomore, Flaric Bloodsong and Timor Settyon.” She gestured at the three Shadow Knights who were still wearing their weapons. “And this is Lucan’s High Magi, Necromancer Tagliente Dreshan. They are here to present you and your city with a non-aggression pact.”

Antonia’s expression had been wavering between shock, disgust and returned to shock. Her court face finally descended and she climbed up to her throne and sat down. “Bring the petition.”

Sheylanna looked annoyed but dug around in her pack and produced a beaten scroll and advanced on the dias to present it.

Antonia unrolled the scroll and read it, her face unreadible until halfway through when she growled. “Lucan should be hung from a cross and burned.”

“I am not quite sure that would kill him.” Tagliente offered, “Poison hasn’t, being turned into an arrow-cushion didn’t, drowing failed. Perhaps fire, but I’m not sure I would stake a great deal on it.”

Antonia’s eyes narrowed, “It was a rhetorical statement, Dark Elf.”

Tagliente just smiled and bowed. And then got elbowed in the ribs by Sheylanna. It was a very obvious ’stop being a pain in the ass’ elbow.

“Lady, while our two cities disagree on many things,” Jarden started, stepping forward with a perfect court bow, “The greater evil must be battled, and for this goal we must work together.”

“And how do I know you will not turn traitorous the moment it is to your advantage?” Antonia asked, gesturing with the scroll.

“We swear by our honour we shall serve you as leige-lady until the great corrupter is destroyed or his threat removed.”

She stared at them for several moments and resettled her gown around her feet. The fine silk covering the low boots she wore, refusing the uncomfortable court shoes. “And him?”

Him smiled. “Why, my lady, if I were to betray you, your cause, or your city, the Lady Crystaltear would cut out my heart and offer it to you for dinner.”

“I’d split it with her.” Sheylanna corrected.

“I may live and work in darkness, but I am not a dispicable cur.” Tagliente informed her.

Antonia clearly did not agree. But stood and gestured for one of her courteirs. She whispered to him and the young man disappeared to the hallway that lead to the castle itself. “You may join my court for the evening.”

A court well surrounded by Paladins.

Sheylanna sighed and took Tagliente’s arm to go investigate the tables of fare along one wall. It wasn’t fancy or expensive, but it was warm and welcome after a long road.

The three Shadow Knights withdrew and suddenly found themselves surrounded by young women who wanted to know all about servants of evil.

Seonaed tried to slip out of the court and home before she could be caught but practically walked into her brother’s breastplate. “SEONAED CRYSTALTEAR!” he growled, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her off into an alcove. “Where in Hate have you been? We got a note saying “gone adventuring, be back soon” and nothing more!”

“Well, Bryant, this may seem a bit obvious even for you, but perhaps.. Freeport?” Seonaed snatched her elbow back from him and glared up at him.

“What were you doing in Freeport? Beyond making nice with Shadow Knights and Necromancer’s!?” He leaned in.

Seonaed stood on her tiptoes and eyes narrowed, “I was travelling with our ancesstress Sheylanna Crystaltear, perhaps you’ve heard of her? Saver of the great oak, founder of our line, destroyer of corruption? Was I supposed to say, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to be a warrior for your cause because my big brother will be a jealous, over protective sod!”?”

“SOD? I am the high knight of..”

“Pomposity and stupidity! You can’t get your head out of your ass long enough to take a breath of air to think with!”

“How dare you say such things about me? What do you know about honour and duty? You flit around day in day out..”

Tagliente turned Sheylanna towards the alcove. “Perhaps you should intervene in your family’s reunion?” He waved an amused hand towards the alcove where Seonaed and Bryant were hissing and spitting at each other.

Sheylanna runned an ear tip. “Do I have to?” she practically whined. “My feet are sore, my leige lady thinks I’m a traitor.. I don’t want to get embroiled in family politics..”

“I don’t think you have a choice.” He told her, pulling her along. “You think you will escape visiting for dinner and staying with them?”

“Can’t I say, sorry, have an evil, skelton hugging, Necromancer with me, have to stay in an inn?” Sheylanna asked hopefully.

“It’s family, dear. The fact you’re having incredibly good sex with an evil raiser of the dead will pale in comparison to the fact you’re alive and well, and haven’t visited once.”

“Oh Tunare.” Sheylanna cursed. She sighed and marched into the alcove. “SOLDIER” she bellowed in her best sergeant major impression. “Is that any way to treat a lady?”

Bryant straightened so fast Seonaed had to steady herself on his chestplaste or she would have done a face plant. “Uh, no ma’am?”

“As your incredible elder and ancestress, Sir Crystaltear, I’m going to remind you your sister performed an incredibly perilous duty in the name of family, duty, and preservation of life while you were marching up and down the walls. She is not a child to be spanked, verbally or not.”

Seonaed looked incredibly smug until Shey turned on her, “And you! Your brother is a loyal knight of this city who serves with life, liberty and honour. He has sworn his sword to good and the gods, you should treat him with more respect. I’m sure when he’s not being a big brother rather a knight of Qeynos he speaks with wisdom!”

They both look shame faced and stared at the ground.

Sheylanna turned and went back to the table, marching to the end and reaching under the table to Antonia’s stash of alcohol that went with the dances and evening court. She pulled out a small keg and a tankard and poured herself a healthy dose of brandy. “My family,” she said after taking a health swig, “Is going to be the death of me.”

Cydid was trying his hardest not to sneeze. He decided he was the worst son of a dark elf ever to walk the surface of Neriak. The walls seemed to be closing in, the ceiling dropping dirt seemed to lower with each shake and rumble of mining carts going by. And the ratonga smelled like death.

Kydaan was ignoring his erst while apprentice in favour of trying to get a rock out of one of the mining carts. Half of them seemed to be smooth, glowing eggs of some sort, the other half seemed to be slimey green rocks the size of his fist. He finally noticed the smaller Ratonga were getting bullied by the larger. He set up a pull-up trip wire and yanked it in time to trip one of the smallest, who went skittering head over tail.

Kydaan snuck up and grabbed a couple of the spheroids from the cart and ducked back to Cydid. He held out his prizes. The much larger ovoid seemed to pulse, thick vein like tendrils on the outside seeming to beat. It was soft and squishy in his gauntlet. The second was a hard rock of green, it had an inner glow and made the hairs on the back of his neck rise when he brought it too close to his chest. With a grimace he put them in a pouch at his waist and tucked them inside his backpack which Cydid was wearing. He closed the pack and whispered words Cydid tried to catch but missed. The backpack sealed with a soft yellow glow.

Kydaan gestured for them to slowly crawl out the way they’d come in. He almost wished that the fruity necro his sister was in love with had remained in town, he got the feeling the rock and egg thing were just the sort of gruesome thing he’d know all about.

Shanzule was getting more than a little used (and sick of) Rassis going everywhere Keesa went. So, when he invited the lithe youth cleric to accompany a trip to the ratonga mine to scout he hadn’t be too shocked to see Rassis leaning on his staff waiting beside his sister. He was even grateful when they’d somehow tripped out a small group of Ratonga that had multiplied into rediculous numbers.

What had surprised the shadow knight somewhat was how readily Keesa had pulled out her mace to join into the fray. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, after all, the first thing she’d done was smack him upside the head with said mace, but she looked so delicate.

Even if she had just smashed a Ratonga’s skull in, splattering it’s brains all over her chainmail.

“Magnificient” he breathed.. and got jabbed by Rassis’ staff to the spine as the monk whirled to beat up two more of the rat people.

Shanzule rubbed the back of his head as he swung his jagged sword into the gut of a nearby rat. He turned inside to see two Ratonga pounce on Keesa and drag her to the ground. With a roar he strode over and hauled one off and threw it several feet through the air. The second was dead, an arrow through it’s back, before he could even touch it.

Kydaan’s camoflage dropped when he fired the arrow, but the Ratonga seemed to have a hard time seeing the ranger who was dressed in browns, the same colour as the sun burned grasses.

A half-dark elf also came out of the shadows to fire arrows into the fray. His aim was good but he had no where near Kydaan’s strength. His arrows were doing more to cause chaos than actually take down the numbers.

With the odds turning against them the Ratonga started trying to scramble off. “STOP THEM!” Shanzule yelled, seeming to forget his troops weren’t the ones he trained with every day.

“And here I wanted to dance with them.” Keesa muttered, getting to her feet, finger feeling her lip where a tooth had gone through it.

Rassis rolled his eye, “And how do you want me to do that?” he growled, “I cannot run as fast as them!”

Kydaan rolled his eyes, taking one hand off his bow he reached out with his hand and clenched it, turning his fist upwards. The Ratonga were encompassed with roots that ripped from the earth, showering them all in dirt.

Cydid stood with his mouth dropped. “Holy. You HAVE to teach me that.”

Kydaan patted him on the head. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Shanzule shook his head in to wade amongst the Ratonga to dispatch them. By the time he was cleaning his sword and walking back he saw that Keesa had turned away, face buried into her brother’s shoulder, tail dropped on the ground.

Shanzule looked to Rassis with confusion. Had she not been just slaughtering the vermin merrily?

Kydaan rolled his eyes at the Iksar drama and gestured for Cydid to follow him back into the shadows. There was still plenty of time to investigate the mine - and it didn’t look the trio of lizards were going to manage it.

Kydaan closed one eye more out of habit than any sort of need, the eye having been slashed over two centuries previously. The arrow sailed with ease into the target, knocking aside the previous arrow. He sighed and walked to the target to yank out the arrow.

Cydrid watched his teacher with some amusement. While born into a labourer’s family in Freeport, never having seen Neriak, the young elf had little in common with his dark elf ancestors. As a youth he’d watched an eye patched Wood Elf slice the laces off a thief’s boots, causing the rogue to sprawl across the cobblestones. From that moment he’d fallen in love with the bow.

He’d had to spend six days following and harassing Kydaan Leafspirit into teaching him. The Wood Elf finally said that if he was going to learn the bow, he was going to learn everything about being a Ranger. Cydrid tried to understand why a follower of Tunare was living in Freeport, but he’d finally decided that the cynical, time worn warrior had grown tired of Qeynos and its flower sniffing ways and liked a dirtier city.

Kydaan examined the arrows, tossing two into the repair pile before sticking one back in his quiver. “What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life?”

Cydrid shrugged, “What should I do?”

He earned himself a rolled eye and snort of disgust. “How about something to better the world around you?”

“Oh, so I should assassinate Lucan the immortal and paint the world in his blood to make the flowers grow?”

Kydaan flashed a toothy grin, “While that would do great things for the world, I do not think you are able to achieve it yet.” Kydaan twirled the remained arrow, watching the feather spin. “No, my sister has assigned me to do something about the Ratonga population in their little mine. You may as well come help me. Consider it a graduation test.”

Cyrdrid clapped his hands together in glee and took the stairs up to the attic room Kydaan had given him two at a time to grab his bow.

Kydaan sighed and shook his head, heading into his workshop. The kid would realize soon enough that some missions were done better after dark.

All things considered it was a beautiful day on the plains of Karana. They reached site of the city walls as the sun was climbing over the towers, giving the city an aura of majesty.

“My rear is made of leather, my legs do not wish to meet, my horse smells almost as badly as me, my hair is a mess and my robes are stained.. and yet, I’m still not particularly thrilled to see the city of Qeynos.” Tagliente said in passing.

“It smells better than Freeport.” Seonaed replied with bite.

“It smells like apple blossums.” He said, wrinkling his nose.

“Gee, think it could have anything to do with the large orchards of apple trees?” Seonaed asked sarcasticly.

“Not at all. I’m sure its all the light elves holding hands and dancing around the trees that is making my stomach roll. Oh, and good, I’m saved from this conversation by imminant death at the hands of the Qeynos guard.”

Sure enough two of the guard were rushing forward, weapons drawn, screaming obsenities while the guard tower roused.

Sheylanna sighed and gathered power. The guards were wrapped in vines, half of them falling on their faces as their feet came to an abrupt stop. They started shouting at Sheylanna about how she was a traitor.

Jarden, Flaric and Timor Settyon were holding the hilts of their swords, not looking happy. Common sense said to attack a quadre of Qeynos guards would be foolhardy, but then, approaching Qeynos in the first place without an army wasn’t exctly brilliance of wisdom.

Soon enough Captain Eitoa strolled out and looked at her guards with some amusement as she stpped over them. “Lady Crystaltear, I’m assuming there’s a reason why you bring this darkness to my doorstep?” Her voice was hardened and rough, like she spent much more time yelling across smoking filled battlefields than chatting in taverns.

“This is Tageliente, my mate. These are Knights of Freeport. An evil has returned to this world that is greater than the battles of us mere mortals.” Sheylanna dismounted to speak to Eitoa on the level. Or at least, as level as she could get with a woman half a foot taller than herself.

Eitoa didn’t seem surprised that one of the holiest forces of light was sharing a bed with a necromancer, nor did she seem particularly surprised that three knights of Freeport stood on her bridge. Seonaed, in fact, had to wonder what exactly would surprise the captain. “What exactly do you want me to do then?” Eitoa finally asked after studying the motley group.

“An escort to the castle.” Sheylanna said, returning to her horse and mounting with surprising ease.

“Oh yes, that shall be fun. I do believe I shall let Knight-Captain Steelgaze have THAT pleasure.” Eitoa said with no little sarcasm dripping from her words. “Wait here.”

She walked back over her vine entwined guards and to the city gates which were propped open. She stalked with a young guard within for a few minutes before returning to find her guards getting to their feets grumbling about the abuse.

“Welcome to Qeynos, your escort will be here shortly.”

Seonaed was passed out by the fire, worries forgotten for the night. Tagliente sighed and stood. One thing growing up in Neriak as a member of the nobility taught you was how to deal with emotional women.

He wasn’t surprised to find Sheylanna sitting on an outcropping of rocks, hugging her knees and staring off at nothing. What was it about the female that made them mope? Perhaps it was a deficiency in chocolate. Damn Brownies just had to go extinct.

He sighed and walked up. She turned to look over her shoulder at him and his beckoning hand. She unwrapped herself to put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in his cloak, the sweet scent of decay and husky scent of male enveloping her. She had once never thought a dark aura cutting her off from the universe would be a thing of comfort.

He held her gentle, resting cheek against the top of her head as he gazed up at the ruins of Luclin in the night sky.

“Do not worry beloved, you are no longer alone.”

“I don’t feel more powerful than a god.” Seonaed said, twisting bits of bark off a twig. “I feel like Seonaed Crystaltear, youngest of the family, butt of all jokes, clumsy with anything sharp. Great-Great says I should be able to SEE things, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Of course not,” Tagliente sympathized. “Two people look at a painting and it looks normal to both even if one is colourblind. We are colourblind, you can see things we cannot.” He was lying on his back on a cloak, staring up at the ruins of Luclin. “Those of us who weild the magic of the gods such as your ancestress, or who have been touched by their god, such as myself, we have a bit of that sight from the veil falling from Luclin. For a moment, we saw the world as Veeshan must have.. a vision that drove many mad as the world seemed to be destroyed around them.” His voice faded as his eyes lost focus.

“And I’m a coward. I wouldn’t want to live through anything like that.”

Tagliente laughed, “Sheylanna told Bertoxx he licks his own behind for sexual enjoyment and if you asked her if she wanted to live through the fall again she would turn white and say no. Fear is not cowardness. Fear is your brain saying ‘Pardon me, but you’re about to do something that’s going to hurt a great deal.’ Cowardness is running away from a battle to protect your own skin instead of those you care for.”

Seonaed opened her mouth, had a picture of her mother smacking her upside the back her head for rudeness and shut it again.

Tagliente seemed to follow her thoughts since he smirked, “Just because I don’t see the problem with pulling the legs off puppies to see how they learn to move does not mean I can not love. Every being with a brain loves, even if it’s just self.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of THAT. She still wasn’t entirely happy with this entire Light Elf making out with Dark Elf thing. She wasn’t even really comfortable with this entire Light Elf dancing merrily through her life, thing. It was one thing to be happy with having a very famous and powerful ancesstress (or six) but another entirely having to LIVE with said ancestor.

Tagliente rolled onto his side, proping head on palm, moving with the grace of a panther. “But tell me, if you could be anywhere, right now, where would you be?”

She sighed, “I’d like to say home,” she tossed the twig into the fire, “But then I’d just be feeling guilty I wasn’t doing what I could and should be doing. I guess I’m right where I should be. Rocks in my armour, confused and feeling useless.”

“Ha. You are too much like your ancestress, you will not only know what to do when necessary, you will have no problem with the supposed bravery needed.”

The two stayed in silence for long minutes. “Did she REALLY tell the God of Corruption that about his behind?”

Tagliente smiled, eyes closed, “Right after she told him the only sexual relief he got was with his sludge elementals.. but not so politely.”

Sheylanna and Tagliente were very much wrapped in each other and each other’s lives. For the first day of travel Seonaed had followed, listening mention names and giggle over this, make sarcastic comment over that, and sigh wistfully. By mid-morning she had dropped back to the three Shadow Knights.

She learned their names; Jarden D’Blomore, Flaric Bloodsong and Timor Settyon. For an hour they ignored her, staring ahead or at the horizon, waiting for danger or distraction. After nothing bothering her, they talked amongst themselves, ignoring her. At first Seonaed had though it gender based, she wasn’t quite sure than Lucan’s paradise included women; Shanzule’s certainly didn’t seem to.

The had finished setting up camp when Jarden turned to her, “You are the one called Seonaed, yes?”

“Yes.” She replied wondering who creeped her out more, the three men sworn to darkness or her ancestress and her dark elf lover.

“Can you use that sword?” He asked with a smirk.

Seonaed was torn between honesty and wanting to shut the condescending snot up. Her mother’s stern teachings of manners won, “Somewhat. I am certainly not as well trained or practiced as Freeport’s elite.”

This seemed to impress the three. “Few are, young warrior.” said Flaric, standing from his crouch. “Four practice better than three.”

Seonaed wasn’t sure about the morality of learning swordplay from the dark knights and looked to Sheylanna for guidance. The druid gave a one armed shrug. Taglente was less subtle, “They’re not asking you to drink blood out of a golden goblet in the name of Cazic Thule, they’re just asking you swordplay. I somehow doubt religion will come into it.”

Timor, the youngest, shuddered, “Enough gods already argue for her, we’re not getting into it, thanks. We signed up to escort you to Qeynos, assist with matters there to do with the God of Corruption and come home. That’s it.”

Seonaed didn’t like the idea of gods arguing over her, but it wasn’t exactly something she wanted to think about either. No more than she wanted to think about her Great-Great’s sharing a tent with a Necromancer of great power and evil. The only explanation Sheylanna had offered was “You can’t change the ones you love.”

It was probably safest to just pick up a sword and try and beat up a Shadow Knight or six. She never thought she’d actually miss Rassis.

This time they stood at the gates of Freeport, the guards eyeing them nervously, fingering their sword hilts. Three of Shanzule’s elite warriors stood with them, a sign of Lucan’s blessing; such as it was.

“I’m staying.” Keesa declared.

“You’re what?” Rassis hissed, head whipping around.

“Tagliente goes with Sheylanna to keep Freeports interests, who stays to keep Qeynos’?”

“My brother is here.” Sheylanna replied, wishing she could have spent more time with him, but duty always came first on both their parts.

“Your brother has his own duties AND probably doesn’t want to give himself away.” Keesa replied, her tail slashing. “I will stay.”

Rassis sighed, head slumping. He recognized the signs of sister in full stubborn mode. “At least I won’t have to get on any boats.”

Keesa smiled and slapped her brother on the shoulder, “That’s the spirit!”

“I will probably die before seeing my home again, but at least I won’t have to get on a boat again.” Rassis eloberated.

Keesa smacked him again with more force.

Sheylanna gave Keesa a hug and patted Rassis before swing up onto the horse. “I miss my drogmar.” She murmered as the horse danced.

“A true lose to the world that the slow lizards were lost with Dulak.” Tagliente replied with usual bite of sarcasm. “Horses are the superior mount.”

Sheylanna rolled her eyes. “Yes dear.”

Seonaed climbed up onto the horse with help from Rassis. She’d ridden before, but she wasn’t overly fond of the animals. She didn’t much like feeling like she was out of control.

Shanzule’s trio, of course, just summoned their unholy steeds to their side and mounted with practiced ease.

Sheylanna shook her head at them before kicking the horse into a canter, entering Qeynos was just going to be so much FUN!

The moon flooded the courtyard with light, the ruins of Luclin twinkling overheard. And yet, none of the guards thought to look up at the figure scaling the side of the tallest tower of the castle. Invisibility wasn’t much use against guards with items to see through it, but apparently they didn’t think any assassin would actually get past them. Idiots.

Or maybe Lucan told them to let them in so he got some warriorly exercise once in a while. Either way, Sheylanna swung her leg up and over the sill and into the luxerious apartments.

She wasn’t particularly surprised to find Lucan sitting at the desk working, she had thought him beyond sleep. He still looked human enough, but his aura made her skin crawl. She leaned up against the wall, arms crossed and waited.

“How long do you plan on standing there, druid?” The deep voice asked almost twenty minutes later.

“Until I can move without getting something sharp thrown into me.” Sheylanna replied.

That recieved a snort of amusement, Lucan turning in his chair. He froze as soon as he saw her, eyes narrowing, hand grabbing the sword that was resting in the rack. “YOU!”

“Me.” Sheylanna said, hoping the shield of runes was going to hold against a very angry ex-Paladin.

“You have courage of the beyond.” He stalked forward, towering over the elf. “How dare you come here?”

“Well,” Sheylanna started, trying to sound much calmer than she felt, “I need your help. And I didn’t really feel like waiting in the line downstairs tomorrow morning.”

The sword stopped inches from her nose. “You need MY help? You jest!”

“Oh yes - I often climb six stories of tower to climb into the bed chamber of the leader of the most powerful city state in Eastern Norrath to make jokes.” Sheylanna leaned forward so the sword rested against her face, edge making no indent against the magical shield. She stared up into his eyes, a remarkably clear blue. “You stood in my way once, Lucan. Do you want to do it again?”

He sighed and tossed the sword on the poster bed. “You elves, always overly dramatic. Doesn’t matter which side of candle you stand on, light, dark, you always have to make a production out of everything. Let me guess, you have found the nesting ground of Bertoxxulous and you want me and my army’s help in routing him out since YOU and your little friends have failed so often.”

The most annoying thing about Lucan was his intelligence. “Nothing quite so grand as an army.”

He grabbed a chair and practically threw it at her as he sat himself down on the bed. “Tell me what you want, elf.”

Sheylanna caught the chair and turned it backwards to rest her arms on the back as she sat. Her feet didn’t reach the floor. “The Ratonga mines on the beach are filled with Bertox’s corruption. It is the God of Hate’s opinion that the Ratonga were created by Bertox.” Lucan raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t interupt, “As much as I can tell - which isn’t much, those mines riddle all under the city, above, around and trhough your sewers. I suspect when Bertox erupts it will take Freeport out. And I suspect he has a similar project in Qeynos. It is not like we haven’t taken in Ratonga refugees ourselves.. and I know they work for the Dwarves.”

“You want a double strike. I lead a force in Freeport while you lead one in Qeynos.”

“Yes.”

“And how will you trust me to not send a force against Qeynos while I and my personally chosen go underneath?” He asked with a half-smile.

“Because if you do, I will make it my personal goal, and the goal of my very extensive and powerful family, to make sure you do not exist even in spirit for one second past your treachery. I left enough to be resurected last time.. or should I say animated? .. but I won’t do it a second.”

He laughed, “You think to intimidate me?”

“I got into your city. I got into your castle. I took how many minions with me? You did not detect me until I was in the same room, and even then because I let you. And Lucan, I think the one question you should be asking is.. Where is my brother?”

He stared at her for a very long time.

“Very well. You can coordinate with the Captain of my elite guard. I will give him his orders.. I will assume you were the Dark Elf at Tagliente’s tower?”

“But of course.” Sheylanna replied, standing.

“Idiot Dark Elf doesn’t know what he’s playing with.” Lucan grumbled.

Sheylanna hopped up onto the sill, “Oh, dear Lucan, unlike you.. he knows EXACTLY what he’s playing with.” and she jumped.

Sheylanna couldn’t quite believe she’d actually gotten used the stench of the sewers. She didn’t think even Lucan quite realized the breadth of his underworld city. Many of the Dwarves that were of lesser moral ground had ended up in Freeport and they were certainly of the type that didn’t like to live above ground. With the Ratonga to turn into grunt workers, they had expanded.

Unfortunately, little could work on the stench of the waste and refuge of the sewers. It was probably several levels down before one got “fresh” air. The thought of being so deep within the earth made Shey shudder. She realized Dark Elves were supposed to appreciate living underground, but she wasn’t particularly surprised to find very few down here.

She’d made her way to the underground market where black market goods traveled. She picked up a few odds and ends to make it look like the purpose for her trip while she looked for an unkempt druid. While they were dynamic opposites, the dark druid would still speak truth to her.

She was surprised that the unkempt druid she found was a sullen looking half-elf, who was half-covered in tattoos. Sitting on a rickety table in front of him was a tattooing kit and a couple of stools that were well patched. Shey had never bought into the theory than runes could imbibe magical properties on the wearer, but the unkempt seemed to believe it well enough.

His eyes narrowed as she sat down, “What do YOU want?” he asked with a sneer. He could easily sense her true allegiance.

“Answers.” She replied, looking down at the stool and wondering how it held even her negligible weight. “I’m looking for the source of the corruption.”

He looked at her for several moments as he rocked back and forth on his chair. He seemed to be weighing whether to tell her or not, rather than questioning what she was blathering about. But then, in the first war, the Unkempt had helped fight Bertox.

“The Ratonga have mines beside the ocean. No one enters them. Not the Dwarves, not the humans, not anyone but the rats. We do know how much Berty-boy likes coming up through the water.” The Half-elf leaned forward. “But little pureblood, you’d need a small army to even get into those mines. Hell, Lucan himself would need a small army to get into them.”

“Great.” Where the hell was she going to get a small army?

The Half-elf suddenly grinned the grin of the truly wicked. “Has he seen you yet? Does he know you’re here?”

Shey shivered, perhaps the rumours of the hive mind of the Unkempt were true. They certainly did seem to have a way to share knowledge. This young pup shouldn’t know.. but there were those amongst the trio who ran the unkempt who were ageless. “No.”

“Oh,” His eyes sparkled, “we shall so enjoy seeing things when he does see you. I hear you killed him once.”

“Not well enough!” Shey spat, “I suspected him a true agent of Bertoxx. He corrupted all that was good and holy about the Freeport Paladins.”

The druid laughed, slightly mad, “Oh, no, just a very powerful, very power mad human. Or at least, he was.”

“What is he now?” Sheylanna asked.

The Half-elf smiled and spread his hands, “Now that, little Tunarian, would be telling.”

It hadn’t taken very long to find the guard who had spotted the Paladin and sent the Iksar and Dark Elf to the Caster’s tower. Shanzule had to wonder what the Caster wanted with Paladins. Knowing Necromancers he wanted to pull her fingernails out one at a time and giggle about his vicous evil.

Knowing the slutty Dark Elf he’d seen leaving the Caster’s tower gave him a direction to go locating the quartet. The Shadow Knight had his cynicism about a Paladin being a slave. He’d never heard of these Iksar before, and he knew all the clans in Freeport.

Soon enough he found the run down inn and heard the sounds of battle from the dirt yard behind it. Riding his steed behind the inn he was more than slightly surprised to see a ragged human weilding a pot metal blade against an Iksar monk.

“You TRAIN your slaves?” Shanzule asked with raised eyeridge when the two had finally turned to look at it.

Rassis grinned a toothy grin up a the commander, “Of course. It makes her escapes that much more fun.”

Seonaed repeated some directions she’d heard from a Dark Dwarf the night before, telling Rassis on what sort of journey he could travel on. She went over to the rain barrel to wipe off sweat and get a drink.

Shanzule swung off the unholy horse and found himself looking up at Rassis. This did not make his mood any better. “The Overlord wants the Paladin.”

“Then the Overlord can come get the Paladin.” Rassis said back without an eyeblink.

“You JEST!” Shanzule spat. While he didn’t particularly like Lucan he WAS the leader of Freeport.

Rassis raised a claw hand to his head and seemed to feel around. “No, no belled hat, I must be serious.”

Shanzule was getting ready to just take the damn human when a female Iksar slunk out of the back of the inn. She was in chain armour of decent make, unlike the well abused leather armour of the male. She had a holy symbol swinging from around her neck and a sour expression on her face. She was sleek, slim, and moved with hypnotizing grace.

Shanzule was surprised to find himself on his knees, taking her hand. “Priestess!’

Green eyes looked down at him. “I do not recall giving you permission to touch me, soldier.” A musical, if haughty voice, informed him.

“Soldier!” He roared, leaping back to both feet, “Do you not recognize the rank of Captain of the Elite guard?” He was still holding her right paw, now practically wrenching it out of its socket.

He was literally stunned when a mace spitting lightning connected with his skull, sending him stumbling backwards three steps. The world spun somewhat as he steadied himself. Red film started to form over his sight.

“And I am a high priestess and will be treated with the respect and consideration due my rank SOLDIER.” She tapped the mace shaft against her now free left hand. “You may have a pretty emblem the humans have given you, but in caste I still rule YOU.” She took a step forward, the male Iksar coming to stand behind her.

“My sister has a very good point.” The ironwood staff coming to the ready once more.

“SISTER?” Shanzule spat, shaking his head to clear it. “What kind of unnatural beasts are you? You are not Iksar!”

“As Iksar as you! And better!” Keesa growled back, taking a step forward. “We were born from the same shell, raised together, trained together. Always one stands at teh back of the other. Iksar stand together, how are we unnatural!?”

Shanzule’s eyes narrowed, his own hand now resting on the pommel of his sword, “No twins have been born to the Iksar in living memory.”

“Not in the small, fetid clutching grounds of FREEPORT.” Rassis said calmly, “We are from Qeynos.”

“Traitors!” The sword was out and at the ready in a heartbeat. It was a cruel weapon, spikes from the tip, red throbbing runes down its length.

“Traitors? To who? HUMANS?” Keesa snorted and tossed her fins. “We do not recognize Lucan as a leader of the Iksar. He is not worthy. He is a soft skin. We are IKSAR.”

Shanzule’s sword lowered slightly, his stand still ready to smite these two. “and the real story with the Paladin?”

Rassis grinned a wicked grin, his tail sweeping the sands. “My regard to Antonia Bayle.”

Shanzule laughed cruelly, “And what is your business here then?”

“We were hired to escort the Inky. She pays well.” Rassis said.

“Hmm.” Shanzule sheathed his sword, not convinced about the two .. twins. But it would not be hard to keep track of their movements, and the cleric certainly was a sleek little thing. She would certainly be fun to twine tails with.. especially since she was obviously a powerful cleric which may breed true. He would, of course, have to get rid of the brother.

“I am Shanzule of the Shadowbound clan.” He finally introduced himself. Names meant familiarity, he hadn’t decided he wanted them to know his name in the afterlife till then.

“I am Keesa and this is my brother Rassis.” Keesa told him.

“Clan?” He asked suspiciously.

Keesa and Rassis exchanged a sibling glance. “We don’t know.” Rassis finally replied. “Whoemever birthed our egg on the nesting grounds did not claim us.”

Shanzule was not surprised, who would claim freaks of nature twins? Every smart parent knew you killed the weaker twin to preserve the other. Worst came to worst you called in a shaman to roll the bones.

“Perhaps you will find a clan to your liking in Freeport.” Shanzule said. Perhaps make this Keesa a permenant mate.. no clan, no power.. and mate to him would certainly be a very significant raise in status from no one.

“Perhaps.” Rassis said non-commitedly. “While the weather here is much better, I do not care for the human populartion.” Dry heat was better for Iksar lungs than the Karana humid, swampy, plains.

“Better humans than,” Keesa shivered in a way that caused Shanzule to be glad he was well armoured to hid his reaction, “Frogloks.”

Shanzule could only agree. Frogloks produced entirely too many Paladins. Thinking of Paladins he looked to where the human was sitting in the dirt in the shadow of the inn, arms crossed and sulking.

“I will inform the Overlord of my locating the Paladin and let him schedule a hearing.” He turned to his steed and mounted, swinging it around. “But I suggest you go to him. You do not want him coming to you. Human he may be, but a powerful one he is.”

Rassis and Keesa made no comment and Shanzule shrugged and left the inn. If two clanless wanted to be foolsih.. once imprisoned, he could claim Keesa for himself and not even have to give her mate rights. Hopefully they would be foolish.

* * *

Keesa waited until the last vestigates of Shanzule’s aura was gone. “Gah, I want a bath.”

Shanzule walked into the Overlord’s day chamber to find the early riser was just finishing his breakfast. Each morning the Overlord woke, sparred, exercisded, bathed, ate and then dealt with the mundane matters of his city state. Any on of his servents, servers, soldiers or workers had the right to see him at any time - but it had better be a matter only he could deal with.

Shanzule gave the warrior the halfbow the Iksar considered the compromise between protocol and the fact their true leader was Cazic Thule. They only truly bowed to the god. They’d had to fight to build the temple in the Scale Yard and the lizard people hadn’t forgotten. The advantage of having a history over a millenia old was knowing that sooner or later, you’d get a chance to strike revenge.

“Master,” Shanzule started without preamble. “There is a Paladin of power in this city. I lost her trail at Tagliente’s tower.” His tail twitched from side to side.

Lucan D’Lere looked up, fruit halfway to his mouth when he put it back down. “How powerful?”

Shanzule was not one to lie, exagerate or try to prevaricate. “I would guess more powerful than myself since I could not follow her aura or locate it within the city.”

Lucan did not state the obvious that the Paladin would have to be powerful to get past his guards. He closed his eyes, the scars on his cheeks becoming long lines, several being on the eyelid. Shanzule stood stockstill waiting for the Overlord to finish his own search, only the tip of his tail twitching.

“I cannot find the Paladin.” Lucan said with a faint frown. “Get every Shadow Knight looking for him, I do not like the idea of one of the holy warriors in my city without my knowledge.”

Shanzule bowed, “Right away.” He backed out of the room and turned on his heel in the corridor. “You’re very lucky.” One of his human bodyguards told him with a wistful sigh.

“Oh?” Shanzule asked with raised eyeridge. He did not particularly believe in this “luck” concept. Everything in his life had been earned.

“To spend time in the Overlord’s presence.”

Shanzule had heard more than once about the supposed powerful presence of the great man himself, but it was nothing he had ever felt. He had respect for D’Lere as a man and a warrior and even as a leader. He was a man of many talents and abilities, but Shanzule had never felt the supposed awe so many did. Perhaps Cazic Thule protected him.

“Continue as you have already and you will possible succeed me as Captain.” Shanzule had no intention of holding this position for more than another five years. By then he would have his choice of any mate and able to retire to teaching the next generation. It was rare for a human to hold the rule, Dark Elves and Iksar holding it more often than not, but certainly not outside the realm of possibility.

“Thank you sir!” The warrior said with enthusiasm and saluted him.

Why thank him? It would either be earned or not, no preference was being provided. Perhaps he was thanking for the opportunity that had been earned? Shanzule had enough dealings with humans to know they were a corrupt bunch at best, perhaps the youngling expected to have to bribe his way to opportunities.

What a stupid way to run an army.

The sun was coming up over the city, sending the Ratonga cleaning crews skittering back to their hell holes. Captain Shanzule Shadowbound scanned the streets as he rode through.

Saddles were created by humans for humans. Humans, the entirely creative beings they were, were very skileld at coming up with news of subjegating others. And in this process didn’t create saddles suitable for beings with tails. He’d hear Vah Shir bitch as loudly as Iksar. Shanzule’s answer had been to take a sabre to the back of the saddle and hack a wedge out of it, tossing the shredded leather at the saddle boy who had presented the saddle to him in the first place.

His unholy stead danced on the cobblestones, fire flaring from hooves and nostrils. His firey mane flaring as he arched his neck and danced. Ah, the wonderous gifts of Cazic Thule. He patted the horse on the neck and guided him down the road. The few citizens on the streets stopped and stared at him as he went by.

Not only could they feel his dark, cold power, but they recognized the elbemn on the front of his chain tunic. Captain of the elite squad of Freeport, no one who wished to live got in his way.

He’d had dreams the nigh before about a golden light entering the mage sector and disappearing into darkness. Then the light errupted from between the cobblestones and caused Freeport to shake apart until it was just rubble at the bottom of a canyon.

Shanzule did not dream. Ever since he’d offered himself on Cazic Thule’s altar and accepted his first unholy blade. When his god spoke, he did it through his dreams. The rest of the time Shanzule had oblivion at night.

So. He entenered the mage quarter, having left his four bodyguards behind. If he needed bodyguards to protect him in the city, he deserved to die. Really, the only reason he supported the silly human practice was to gain honour and recognition for promising young warriors.

He stopped across from the Necromancer’s fancy tower and watched it with slitted eyes. The finger wiggler didn’t seem surprised to see Shanzule sitting on his dark steed as he kissed some bimbo Inky and sent her on her way with a pat to the mostly-covered rear end. Shanzule shuddered, no scales, no tale, and delicate. How could a male find that attractive?

He considered following the wench, something nagged at him as he watched her sashay her way into the poorer quarter. But instead of he turned back towards the tower, the door once more closed. The Overlord’s Caster and the Ovgerlord’s Captain did not get along.

Shanzule dismounted and strode over, his steed following seemingly out of curiosity. The Iksar stood at the front door and closed his eyes and let his senses wander. It didn’t take long, he sensed the presence quickly enough. His dream had been right, a Paladin of the light HAD been here last night. Shanzule eyed the door suspiciously, he couldn’t tell if the Paladin went inside or not because of the strength of the Tower’s aura, but he suspected he or she had.

What was the Necromancer up to?

Shanzule remounted his horse and turned it back towards the castle. The Overlord gave his Dark Elf allies to much latitude. Soon the Iksar would be strong enough to leave and form their own city and if the Overlord wanted their help he could bloody well treat them better and listen to them more often. The Dark Elves had never had an empire, only fought minor wars. What did the tailless freaks know? But even with the Overlord’s unreasonable preference, he’d wish to know that his precious Caster was probably plotting treason.

Seonaed and Keesa had created a drinking game. Every time the Ogre bartender scratched himself you had to take a drink. A perfectly good way to get absolutely plastered in an enemy city.

Rassis had his passed out sister over one shoulder and was half carrying Seo with the other arm. “I thought clerics were supposed to have wisdom.” He grumbled as he shoved his way into the nearby inn. “And you’d think YOU would have more sense.”

“Ew. It smells in here.” Seo whined.

“That’s because its run by a Troll.” Rassis replied, dumping his sister on the desk and hollaring for service.

“I don’t want to stay in an inn run by a Troll..” He let Seo go so she could grab the wall before it fell over. Or maybe it was before she fell over. Seo wasn’t quite sure, but the wall sure was at an odd tilt.

“Its this place or the Necro’s tower. And if you think I’m sleeping in that den of slime..” Rassis’ tail thrashed.

“No.. I don’t think I wanna hear great-great having sex.” Seo replied. “Troll run inn, not so bad.”

Rassis actually shuddered, his scales spiking out. “There were some mental images an Iksar did not need in his head.”

The Troll innkeep finally showed up. “What?”

“We want a room.” Rassis replied, digging around in his sash for their limited Freeport coin.

“Y’do?” The troll seemed very surprised by this. Apparently this wasn’t a popular inn. “Well, uh, okay.”

Rassis stared at the Troll while the Troll stared at him.

“You take our money, you give us a key and you tell us which room is ours.” Rassis said through clenched teeth.

“Right.” The Troll held out a grubby hand and Rassis placed coin in it. The Troll bit each coin before fishing out a key that looked like it had spent half its life in a sewer.

Grasping the key between two claws, Rassis turned to see that Seo had joined his sister in unconsciousness. “I should have found a mountain in the middle of a nice tropical ocean to sit on. Occassionally kill people who get too close. Send those I’m supposed to be nice to on impossible quests so they don’t come back for years. But nooooo, I had to keep up the family obligation.”

He sighed and shoved the key down Seo’s shirt and picked her up on one shoulder to pick up his sister on the other. “I’m going to start charging by the hour.” he grumbled as he made his way up the rickety stairs. “Five gold per hour. Ten for every hour after the sun goes down and I’m not asleep.”

Tagliente felt satisfied with the world, running a dark hand down Sheylanna’s almost translucent skin as she dreamed. Magic kepts his tower more than warm enough that all the piles of blankets humans insisted on were nowhere to be found.

His hand stopped over Sheylanna’s womb, “Still fertile at your age, my dear?” He whispered, “Tunare truly does work miracles.” While Tagliente was almost a century younger than the wood elf, he felt his age in his bones when he awoke on cold winter morns. He hadn’t known what kept him going, but now he realized what he was waiting for.

“It strikes me as slightly more than unfair that the brute’s child flourishes and spreads its .. seed? eggs? .. I can’t even remember it’s gender now.. while I am left without family entirely. Imagine the children we could produce together, my dear. We could rule this world.”

He sighed, hand moving on, “But alas, you do not have the ambitions I do, my love. We could not even agree on a place to be married. Somehow I suspect you would wish your children to be raised in some dirt hut in a forest, not in the height of Freeportian society.” He shuddered. Sheylanna’s preference for the wilds always disturbed him. She seemed able to take or leave such luxerious as hot baths, but not him.

“And here you are, with a descendant who is much more human than elven, child of a Guide, and your only goal for her is to stop Bertoxx, not even one thought past that.” He leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Ah, so typical of you. I feel the hand of Rodcet Nife and Mithaniel Marr already fighting for her. To the mortals of this world she seems like a Paladin of great potential, but we of the old world and the Gods above know the truth.”

He stroked her golden locks, “And what could we do with the child of a Guide? She could find the lost GMs for us, those wonderfully creative beings, the first ones. They could restore the world to what it was before the Gods started arguing and throwing power around. Magic would be as it was, and power would be available by the waterfall.” Golden locks wrapped around his ebon fingers, “But, what good would that do us? Would there ever again be a place where we can be together and no one would look twice?” He sighed, and curled up around her, “To recreate the great library and the Plane of Knowledge, now there would be a worthy goal, my love.”

She wasn’t surprised to find herself standing in the chapel of the Plane of Hate. She knew she should be, but as dreams go, here she was and it was to be accepted.

Tagliente was a fantastic specimen of Dark Elf masculinity, but Innoruuk in his Dark Elf guise was .. Godly. He sprawled across his throne, his aura of dark power flicking across it’s golden surface. He was feeding bits of meat to two large mastiffs.

“Ah, so you re-enter the life of my favourite Necromancer Ms. Crystaltear.” He said amicably, voice chill and hollow.

Sheylanna approached the throne of the God, aware of the spirits and haunts of the place that she couldn’t see. She could feel the life force Innoruuk was using to power his home. The Plane of Hate was supposed to have been lost. Wizards no longer able to port due to all the lucinite in and on Norrath claimed it was to have disappeared. Apparently not.

“He is not, and has never been, *your* Necromancer.” She finally replied, coming to a distance in which they could converse but she was out of easy reach of the probably rabid dogs.

“No, tis for shame. But since Luclin lost her balance, got drunk and fell apart,” He laughed at his own joke, Sheylanna managed not to roll her eyes at the great god of hate. “He has been working for me. So, you will tell me why I will not announce your presence in Freeport to the whole city.”

Sheylanna was flattered that the God thought she had something to negotiate with, that she was a power to converse with. To call her here, to hear what she had to say.. Either the God of Hate was very bored or very careful.

“I will give you one very good reason Lord Innoruuk.” What title did you give a God? She’d always just called Tunare ‘mother’ “Bertoxxulous.”

Innoruuk eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, “Explain little druid.”

“I think you know of my battle with the plaguebringer in the days of old?” She asked. It was always best to give deities the benefit of the doubt when it came to knowledge.

He nodded, “Yes, you and your Rangers.. many of those came here and died looking for the powerstones to lock away Berty’s power.”

“Well, with the increase in plagues, diseases and corruption of all things.. it is my belief, and that of others, that Bertoxx has returned and is planning to take everything.”

“And you plan to stop him.” Innoruuk settled back in his throne with a smirk, “My dear, you couldn’t stop him the last two times. I’m rather surprised you’re not dead, in fact.”

“I was. I got a drunken resurrection.”

“Ah, Dwarven clerics.. Whatever was Brell thinking?” Innoruuk sighed, crossing his legs. His rich clothing was starting to look worn. “I will make a deal with you then little Crystaltear.”

Oh goodie. Deals with the God of Hate. This should just be delightful.

“I want you to get Antonia’s little magickers working on a way to restore magical travel and in return I will tell you what I know of Berty’s little activities. How does that sound to you?”

Very one sided. Sheylanna sighed, “The magi of Qeynos had been working on restoring teleportation since the lucinite settled, but short of getting it all off the planet, there doesn’t seem to be any answers. If the combine wizards of Luclin had survived.. then maybe we could work around it .. but it took them centuries to learn how to work with the lucinite’s magic warping properties, it may be centuries before any Norrathian wizard does the same.”

“Remove all the lucinite, eh?” He looked thoughtful, “Something to work on, anyway, in the meantime.”

He gestured a seat into existence. Sheylanna decided not to notice it was shabby and the fabric starting to rot. Hate had obviously seen much better days. It was probably a good thing Gods didn’t need to eat.

The first, and last, time she had been to Plane of Hate had been with her brother. Then she had gotten a glimpse of Innoruuk and his majestic hate had caused her to freeze, thought and feeling fleeing in the face of his power. She had only been freed when he’d turned from the window and strode back into his temple home. She’d wanted to worship him - he was a GOD!

But now, he seemed.. worn out. A being of great power still, but one she had no wish to worship, and while she was nervous and unsure of him, she was not terrified in the least. It was true, the Gods had fallen greatly.

“Now,” Innoruuk continued, blissfully unaware of the nature priestess’ thoughts, “Berty didn’t show up to the last council of the Gods. You know, the one before we all rather .. blew up. We had thought it because he was still recovering from the abuse he took at the hand of mortals.” He gave her an ironic little bow, “But perhaps not. Perhaps the little slug was already working on his plans.” He frowned. “The Ratonga are supposed to work for me, but I suspect, push come to shove, the little rats are actually his toys. They were not to be found before the cataclysm.. and he is the only one of us not to create or own a race.”

By ‘us’ Sheylanna could only assume he meant the dark gods, Elosi Marr certainly didn’t own anyone. He was probably still a bitter bug about the whole more Elves loving Tunare thing.. and certainly Shey herself had proven Dark Elves were capable of love.

“Thank you Lord Innoruuk for your guidance.” Really, he hadn’t told her anything she couldn’t figure out on her own, but better to humour him.

He leaned forward, eyes suddenly fiery, “But do not think for instance little druid, if you try to turn Tagliente from me that I will not destroy you into atoms so that even drunken clerics cannot bring you back.”

Suddenly that old power was more than present. She gulped. “Yes.”

He smiled all affable once more. “Glad we understand each other, tree hugger. Now go wake up to the wonder that the world is today.”

“Now, my dear,” Tagliente said, taking Sheylanna’s hand and pulling her to him. He picked her up easily to sit across his lap, her head fitting aginst the hollow of his shoulder. “We’re going to discuss how many birthday cards you owe me. Maybe a few singing bard messages.”

Sheylanna giggled, “So it’s true, you’re after my money!”

“Oh yes, chase a druid for their money. There’s a very successful endevour. Last I heard you were employing carpenters to build homes for chipmunks. No, I very much realize I’m the bread winner in this relationship. Especially since the bread you create is burnt.”

Sheylanna frowned and poked him in the chest, “It’s NUTRITIONAL.”

“It’s absolutely AWFUL. I, my dear, am a Prince of Neriak, I do not eat anything but the fluffiest and lightest of white bread.”

“Because white bread is delicious.” Sheylanna finished for him.

“White skin, too,” He leaned over to lip the point of her ear. “Now, let’s see, when the skies came crashing down, you left for Kelethin to save people and trees.. I was of the belief you died saving little furry animals and children.”

“Wood elf children aren’t furry!” She bit his shoulder.

“You are not distracting me.” He told her sternly, hand tracing along her arm. “Or at least, you are, but I refuse to submit. So, you didn’t die in Kelethin, but you did not come find me. So, this is entirely YOUR fault that we spent the last two centuries apart.”

“But you went back to Neriak! I thought you dead in the cave-ins!” She protested, trying to sit up but trapped by a firm hold.

“My dear, whatever gave you the idea I would return to Neriak? I extrapulated the angle of the descent of the chunks of moon, predicted the flooding, and headed for the mountains east of Freeport for safety. And see?” He held out his arms, “All in one piece.”

“You didn’t go home?” She asked, brow furrowed.

Tagliente sighed, “Dearest, Neriak hasn’t been home for a very long time. My home was turned into an inn in the Plane of Knowledge by a certain bratty elf of the light.”

“Really? I’ll find her and scratch her eye s out!” Sheylanna replied, twisting so she sat across Tag’s legs, facing him.

“While as amusing as that would be to watch..” He leaned forward and kissed her, “I have much better amusements in mind.”

“It’s .. been a long time.”

“Good,” Tagliente replied in full seriousness, “I would hate to have to go turn men into Zombies. You are mine, you will always be mine and no one else’s.”

“Oh?” she said archly, slipping hand in the seam of his robes, “I’m a possession? The probably most powerful Necromancer has no heart? No romance?”

His nimble hands made short work of the buckles of her armour, “Dearest, I haven’t had a heart since you stole it. You have only yourself to blame.”

The door swung open to reveal a musty smelling interior. A bubbling noise was the only sound from the interior. “Well?” Shey said testily, not particularly wanting to enter the tower of a high caster.

Rassis shrugged and shoved Seonaed in, following with his staff in his left hand.

The group gathered in front of a cauldron that was bubbling away, rolling liquid of a faint green colour.

“You seem familiar.” A cultured voice said from the stairs that curled their way up the outer wall. A red carpet blanketed them, the torches were on the inside of the stairs, leaving the figure half a flight up in shadow. “Your aura is something I’ve almost tasted before.”

Keesa took a closer step to Sheylanna. “He’s a Necromancer, I can feel it. A powerful one.”

Sheylanna gave the female Iksar a look of ‘and you’re surprised, because?’

The robed figure glided down the stairs and into the firelight. He was tall for a Dark Elf, lithe and graceful. His features catlike even for the fae race. Green eyes glimmered from underneath the hood.

“Holy Tu-rnips, TAGLIENTE!” Shey burst past her companions to grab the Necromancer in a bearhug.

Tag seemed nonplussed, “My dear lady, as much as I appreciate you pressing yourself against me - I assure you we have .. never..” he looked down and placed palm of his hand to Shey’s supposed Dark Elf forehead. “You, my dear, are supposed to be very dead.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Sheylanna grumbled.

“Because you disappeared from my life two - y’know, you do look most enchanting in those garments - centuries ago and never sent me a birthday card.” His eyes narrowed, “What in Marr’s leather panties was I supposed to think?”

“Uhm, is our Nature priestess hugging an evil, blood sucking, force of evil?” Keesa asked her brother quietly.

“I never suck blood, it has a vile iron taste.” Tagliente replied, not hiding elven hearing in the least, as he peered down at Sheylanna.

“Er, Right.” Her claws folded around her holy symbol, just in case.

“Pffft.” Seonaed said.

Everyone looked at the young warrior in surprise. Tagliente’s dark skin actually paled, Sheylanna smirked as he stiffened, seeing her descendant for the first time.

“She’s run into an old travelling companion she thought long dead and gone. She’s lived in a world with people who don’t understand the world she was born to, who don’t know what it was like to see two moons in the sky, to know the feel of gods in your every day of life, to wield magic with practiced ease. He could have slaughtered her clan, she’d still be happy to see him.” Seo tilted her head to one side, not knowing Sheylanna’s own habit for doing the same. “Though, she probably wouldn’t still be hugging him if he’d done that.”

“By all that’s unholy..” He said staring at Seo.

“She often has that effect on those that can see.” Sheylanna said, finally letting go and stepping back.

“When I told the guards what I wanted.. I never expected them to FIND..” he shook his head, long silver hair brushing against the back of his knees. “Well. Perhaps we should all sit down and have a nice dinner and you can explain why you would bring this incredibly delicious snack to my home.”

“SNACK?!” Seo yelped, taking a step back to hit Rassis who shoved her forward again. The monk was watching everything very carefully.

“That’s not your dinner is it?” Sheylanna gestured at the cauldron with distaste.

Tagliente rolled his eyes, “No dearest, that is my laundry.” He smiled and took her by the arm to guide her to the stairs. “Remember that lovely lecture on how even big bad nasty Necromancers should do their own damn laundry? Keeps me humble.”

“Humble. Riiiight. Pull the other leg, it has bells on it.” Sheylanna murmered, walking up the stairs at his side.

“Actually my dear, in that guise, you don’t have much of anything on your legs.. but bells could be fun. But I like the idea of a trapezee set better.”

“Bloody Dark Elves.” Sheylanna grumbled.

“Actually, I think it’s just men in general.” Keesa observed, coming to the conclusion at while this Necromancer was most certainly unspeakably evil and nasty, he at least seemed personable and honourable. “All they ever seem to think of is their bedroom.”

“Or the torture chamber.” Tageliente agreed.

“I do NOT only think of the bedroom.” Rassis growled, smacking his sister with his tail. “You have a torture chamber?” He asked Tagliente, suspiciously.

“No, of course not. Why would I bother?” He lead them into a well appointed living room with high backed plush chairs. The one nearest the fireplace had a book resting open on the table beisde it.

“Sooo..” Seonaed said, with some hope, “I don’t suppose YOU will tell me what I am that’s so wonderful and scary and important then?”

Tag glanced down at Shey and rolled his eyes, “You can turn back you know, no one sees inside this tower. While you are enchanting in black, I prefer the real you.”

Seonaed was starting to feel rather ignored and took the seat farthest from the fire in a sulk.

Sheylanna reached up and put her palms to her cheeks and lifted off the woodened mask. Her skin lightend, hair darkened, and she shrank several inches. Her armour changed back to the leather garments of green and her eyes returned to the same.

Tagliente studied her, “You have wrinkles.”

“I DO NOT!” Sheylanna snapped.

He just smiled and gestured for her to take the chair beside his, acroos the small table. “Now, there was a question on the table from the redhead in the corner. I’m sure the wonderful druid had her reasons for not speaking, most of them to do with not knowing who was listening, but I happen to know its safe to speak here and more than time for you to know why everyone keeps looking at you like you’re the return of Lanys.”

“Firiona.” Sheylanna said and kicked him.

“Whatever, dear. It’s all in the details.” He sat in his own chair and gestured to two stools against the wall for the tailed Iksar.

Rassis grumbled at playing toby and fetched the stools for himself and his sister.

“You see, my dear.. what did you say your name was?”

“Seonaed.”

He shot Sheylanna an unreadable look, Shey shrugged, “I had no hand in the naming.”

“No, just in the creation.” He muttered before the charm turned back on. “You see my dear, the blood of the gods runs in your veins.”

“The Gods.” She repeated, not believing.

“Oh yes, quite powerful and heady stuff. Change the nature of the universe type stuff.” He looked Seonaed over, “Perhaps Gods is the wrong word.. for those that you are descended from created the Gods themselves.”

A startled glance to Sheylanna.

“Not my side of the family - though, thank you for thinking it - your father’s.”

“Back in the dawn of time there were the creators - and they created the world, and the planes, the moons, the stars beyond and all in between. To bring the world about with laughing creatures and innocent animals they created avatars, and these avatars were called GMs. After they produced the world they stepped back and decided it would be too much effort to handle every single problem, so they created the Gods and told them to look after their creation. And, as far as any of us know, these Gee-Ems moved on to other words.

“But you see, those avatars were left behind. They were given to benevolant beings and left to keep things in from falling apart.” He snapped his fingers and ghostly apparitions appeared with tempting food and drink, serving his guests who, all except Sheylanna, didn’t seem happy with the servers.

“So - things being what things are, the GMs settled on the newly created world and eventually found mates.. and over time produced children. These children, less powerful than the GMs were called Guides. For the most part they kept their presence secret, even from the Gods of the realms. Every so often a mere mortal would be helped by these children of the creators, but they always assumed they were servents of the Gods.

“And eventually the Guides had children. And while those children are not as powerful as their parents, they have more power than the Gods. For while they have less power they have much more FREEDOM. You, my dear, are a child of a Guide and that is why everyone who can see with eyes from the old world, who saw many truths in the fall of Luclin, knows who and what you are. What you could potentially do. And why they all wish to convert you to their side.”

“And I suppose you’re going to try to get me on YOUR side, then?” Seo said suspiciously. She didn’t feel as powerful as a God.

“Me? No.” Tagliente shook his head, “I don’t particularly like roses growing out of my eyes.”

“But it would be TASTEFUL decoration,” Sheylanna said slyly.

“Mmmmf. It’s a good thing my mother has a very healthy sense of irony. She felt we deserved each other.”

Sheylanna rolled her eyes, “The old battleaxe.” She sighed, “And while my granddaughter absorbs that and goes through denial.. This is Keesa and Rassis.”

“Rassis.” Tagliente said flatly. “He bred. The world just keeps getting better and better.”

Rassis suddenly felt happier about the world in general. If his great ancestor hadn’t liked this Necromancer, and the Necromancer still remembered it centuries later, all was right with Norrath.

“Well, I suppose they can’t be any worse than the original.” He said, almost pleadingly.

“Keesa is a very nice, well raised high priestess of Rodcet Nife.” Sheylanna offered.

“Well, a pleasure to meet you m’lady.” He bowed at the waist, “You’ll pardon me if I don’t shake your hand. I look bad in singed.”

“I don’t think Rodcet Nife would stir himself to zap you while I am in Freeport, disguised.” Keesa replied.

Tagliente shivered, “Either way, I would rather not take the chance.”

They sat in silence for several long minutes before Rassis got to his feet, food and drink untouched. “We still need to find lodgings.”

“Lodgings?’ Keesa asked, wondering what her brother had been sniffing. They were finally on the path of so many answers and he wanted to go find housing?!

“Yes. Lodgings.” He walked over and grabbed Seo by the elbow, turned and dragged her to his sister, who he grabbed with the other hand and dragged them off down the stairs. “Vitally important lodgings. ANd perhaps some spying in a bar or two. Should take several hours.”

They were down the stairs and back out into the street before Keesa turned on her brother. “HA! You do have a romantic soul!”

Rassis scowled, “Claim it all you like, I will deny it to the stars. Besides, maybe Sheylanna will learn that the Inky smells bad, or has gotten rot or something. You’d think she’d be much too old to be ruled by her hormones.”

“Ro-maaaaaan-tic.” Keesa repeated, dancing away from her brother. “My brother, the servent of the goddess of loooooove!”

“Gah!” He took a swipe at Keesa and ended up chasing her down the street. “Am not! Am NOT! AM NOT!”

Seonaed looked up at the tower for heartbeats before following in the wake of the Iksar twins. Descendants of creators, her great-great in love with a Dark Elf, and they trying to stop a God.. and apparnetly, she was supposed to play some important role in this.

She sighed. The Overlord’s throneroom was looking more attractive and MUCH simpler!

The four were crouched down looking at a sewer grate. “Do we have to?” Keesa grumbled. “I don’t mind playing cleric of evil, I don’t mind walking the streets of the honourless scum, but I DO mind swimming in that .. that.. filth like a ratonga!”

Sheylanna heard echoes of Tagliente in the words and smiled. “Well, you can stay behind then.”

“To hate with that.” Keesa grumbled.

The smile of the wood elf’s face grew wider. She fished a wooden mask out of her belt, a mask carved with runes that flashed silver in the moonlight. Even Seo could feel it’s power. “That’s .. That’s a pre-cataclysm artifact!”

“Yes.” Sheylanna said, carefully holding it in her cupped hands.

“Aren’t you supposed to give those to Antonia Bayle?” Seo asked, curiously looking at it.

“Supposedly. But some things predate her rule. This comes from a time before humans even walked the earth. Copies were made of the six masks, masks that were limited, but the original six.. any could use them.” Sheylanna took a deep breath and placed the mask on her face.

She became stiff and then rigid. Her skin darkened to black, her hair lightening to silver. She grew several inches in height, her emerald eyes becoming amber. Her armour shrank to become even more revealing. Slowly, muscle by muscle, Sheylanna relaxed, now seeming a Dark Elf.

Seonaed couldn’t help reaching out and touching her ancestress in disbelief. T o every sense the druid had become a being of darkness.

Rassis and Keesa, having seen the transformation before, were working on the rusty lock on the grate. The entrance opened without a squeek, obviously a well used route by smugglers and thieves.

“C’mon slave.” Rassis said to Seo. The warrior’s armour had been painted with marks by an enchanter, seeming to become clothes. She’d had to give up her sword for knives hidden behind her armour plates. Her fine plate boots had been traded for leather with metal plates so she didn’t clang when she walked. And with a bit of unhealing, Keesa had given her several colourful bruises in various states of healing.

Seo sighed and jumped down into the dim tunnel, feeling slimey before she even hit the almost-water.

* * *

Seonaed was surprised by how clean the streets of Freeport were. She’d almost expected guards riding women down in the streets, babies on pikes and blood running through the gutters. But, instead there were almost-friendly (if formal) guards, women, well dressed and polite, walking on the cobblestones going about their business. Children played in parks. Merchants plied their wares. What was evil about this place?

“They live in fear of their master. They have no freedom. They have to gain permission to leave the city. Thier citizen trials end in death more often than life. We serve Antonia Bayle out of love, they serve thier Overlord out of fear. They are told what to sell and when, they are told who they will or will not marry, they are told how many children to have and they are told what those children will grow up to do. The Overload taxes 40% of their profits and his guards can shop for free. His word is final without appeal and he rules absolute. This place seems like lawful paradise, but in truth, it is a freedomless hell.”

Seonaed glanced at Rassis with no little surprise. She knew that the monk had a deeper side, but he rarely displayed it.

“And my people are the biggest slaves. They thought that softskins were the greatest threat to Kunark - no, they themselves were. Evil turns upon itself.”

Seo wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she turned back to the street to see people quickly move out of the way of a man on a horse.

“YOU!” He yelled, turning the black steed to face “The Overlord’s caster wants her type, you will hand her over!”

Rassis looked up at the officer with a sneer, “The Overlord’s caster can try. She is mine, I keep her. Cazic-thule says so.” The Iksar pulled his staff from its holder on his back.

The horse shied, the officer wrenched the spiked bit harshly, causing it to hop twice before it finally settled, blood trickling out of the corner of it’s mouth. “Fine, you can take it up with the caster.” He took one iron fist off the reigns to point up at a spiralling tower made of ebon bricks. “You got half a candle’s mark to get there and discuss it with him.”

Rassis’ eyes narrowed. “Fine.” He grabbed Seonaed by the elbow and dragged her off.

“We don’t have time for this.” Sheylanna whined in a surprisingly haughty voice, slapping what was once her scimitar against her thigh. It hissed, seemingly a cat of nine tails of snakes. “We have an APPOINTMENT Iksar!”

“I am not giving up my slave. Certainly not to HIM who will take credit and purse. We will deliever her ourselves! And we will walk out with her again!”

The officer laughed, “Right. Keep dreaming scaley.” He yanked his horses head around and continued on his way.

Keesa watched him, “I don’t like this, I’ve heard stories of the Overlord’s Caster. He’s a Necromancer of the worst type.”

“What? He has sex with the dead and rotting corpses he raises from the ground?” Rassis hissed back, seemingly hauling Seonaed down the street.

“It’s always sex with you!” Keesa growled back. “Get your mind out of your pants!”

“I’m male, it’s natural. If continuing the Iksar race were left to females there would never be any eggs in the nesting grounds!”

“Oh, yes, Innie bless the Ikkie’s who hump for three minutes, fertilize a few eggs and then leave it to us females to produce them. TRUST me, you have the easy part!”

“Yes yes, your tail is never the same. You lose your figure. Your pelvis hurts. How life is unfair.”

Seonaed wasn’t sure if the siblings were serious or acting. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know, but she was sure she hadn’t wanted to know the intimates of the Iksar reproductive cycle.

The two hushed up as they went through the tunnel that connected the city quarters and came out near the gates of the massive castle that towered over the streets below it. “Bloody hate.” Seo whispered.

“That is the Overlord’s keep. Only his chosen officers and the doomed see inside. Let’s pray we never see the walls within.” Sheylanna whispered as they hurried on.

“We’re not that lucky.” Rassis grumbled. “Ten gold says we’re in the Overlord’s throne room by the end of the week.”

Seonaed REALLY hoped he was kidding.

All to soon they came to the massive double doors of the magi’s tower. The tower seemed to twist up into the clouds. The stones were matt black, filled with a rusted red mortar. The handles on the door were halves of a minotaur’s skull. The knocker appeared to be an illusion of a banshee.

“Well, it can only go downhill from here.” Rassis growled, waving a clawed hand infront of the illusion.

The banshee, not as illusion as they had thought, screamed their presence.

Sheylanna paced the church, walking between the benches as she thought outloud. “So, Freeport. I should have expected. How could I be so stupid and blind?”

Keesa opened her mouth to say something but Sheylanna continued before the cleric could say a word.

“Of course you two can easily fit in, we just have to jinx your rings, but Seonaed? Every guard in the city will know what she is!”

“A human?” Seo interjected.

Sheylanna waved a hand at her, “We could claim she’s a prisoner, but sooner or later someone is going to want to collect.”

“What about you?” Seo asked, sarcasticly, “Wood Elves aren’t common in Freeport.”

She got the hand waved at her again, “That’s the easy part. Tunare is subtle, they don’t notice. Or rarely, anyway.. I can hide my nature. Damn, but we need her with us..”

“Slave.” Rassis said.

“What?”

“She can be my slave.” Rassis said, “Cazie would giggle in glee if it were reality - who would take her from me?”

“I am NOT polishing your toe claws!” Seo declared, getting to her feet. “And who said I was going anyway? You’ve dragged me all over this continent and you haven’t told me ANYTHING. Maybe I want a few details before you drag me to a whole new continent?”

Sheylanna raised an eyebrow, “If you knew, it can be used against you. Its knowledge best discovered on your own.”

Seonaed said several bad words. Rassis patted her on the shoulder, “I know exactly how you feel, shield-sister. Elders are full of the learn your own way crap.” He narrowed his eyes, “But apparently you can’t even beat it out of them.”

“You can try.” Sheylanna stuck her tongue out at him. “But the last Iksar to try got a pink tail.”

Rassis sighed the sigh of the hard done by. “There are way too many females in my life.” He grumbled. “And none of them I can mate with. Someone,” he gestured at the ceiling, “has a very strange sense of humour.”

“Yes, yes, you are long suffering. You are hard done by. You are the most tortured of beings. Get over it.” Keesa told him with pure sisterly sympathy.

“So. Freeport.” Rassis said with narrowed eyes. “Do I get to make Orcs scream like little human girls seeing a spider?”

“You can make them scream like High Elves faced with dirt for all I care.” Sheylanna replied. “Just find a wiggly-finger to obfuscate your sister’s symbol and aura.”

Rassis nodded and slipped out the doors.

“Why can you hide HER nature but not mine?” Seonaed grumbled at Sheylanna.

“Because I’m not as powerful.” Keesa told her with that Iksar smile before turning to her office.

“You’re a high priestess of Rodcet Nife!” Seo protested.

“Yes, I am.” Keesa replied, meeting Seo’s eyes. “And I am a candle compared to your potential.”

“Oh. Wonderful.” Thought Seo, suddenly feeling like she had a giant target on her back.

The High Elf master handed Rassis another plank as the Iksar rebuilt the door. Rassis had been pouring out his tail of woe as they worked. “Where was your druid friend before she returned to Qeynos?”

“Her and her brother run the spy operations in Freeport.” Rassis replied, eyeing the hinges. He had a lot of practice at building and rebuilding the door, but it still required he think about the process.

“So, if you were in a forest, looking for a tree..?” The Elf asked.

Rassis grumbled, why couldn’t any monk or spirit speak straight? The Elf Master had lived centuries, you’d think someone had beaten some decency into him.. but then considering the abilities of said master. “I do not understand.” he said as patiently as he could.

The Elf looked to the heavens as if they would grant him patience for dealing with a lesser being. “The source of evil in this day and age is Freeport. If you wished to hide evil, would you not hide it amongst all the other evil? Wouldn’t you dress corruption and chaos up as strict lawfulness without compassion? Until it erupts all over the face of Norrath in a wave of malfeasance.”

Rassis said some very nasty words in Iksar.

The High Elf raised an eyebrow in mild disapproval.

“My ancestor was correct. I should have known that.” Rassis growled as he hung the door.

“Sometimes we cannot see the forest for the trees.”

“What IS it with you elves and your tree obsession?!” Rassis snapped.

The master smiled as he turned away, “Often they make more sense and offer more wisdom than mortal creatures.”

Rassis rolled his eyes. Stupid elves and their stuck up natures.

Seonaed was rethinking the wisdom of buying a Gnome dwarven spirits. He’d insisted since he was a bard that he could handle it, but after half a tankard he was giggling and banging the tankard on the bar in time to the half-ass trio on the stage.

“I’m just wondering, if in your travels if you’ve seen signs of corruption from the dark gods..” Seo tried again. How the hell did you explain this anyway without sounding like a complete and utter loon?

“Oh.” This time it apparently sunk in, the Gnome looked thoughtful, hiccuped, and tried to look thoughtful again. “Well, I’d look in Freeport personally.”

“Freeport?” Seo echoed with a grumbled, “Freeport is the home of LAWS and evil, not corruption and chaos and mayhem and..” The truth was, she wasn’t actually quite sure what the God Bertoxx was up to, she’d never heard of him until she’d met her Great-Great and even then.. Sheylanna hadn’t been real forthcoming on the subject.

“Oh, y’know..” Hic. Drink. “Gotta drown the hiccup demons..” The Gnome explained before spinning around on the barstool. “Since when is lawfulness good? Is Freeport not the corruption of Qeynos, with their apping of our ways but in the dark? Ogres were corrupted from their original form, Necromancers are a corruption of all that is holy, their shamans practice blood sacrifices and the things the warriors don’t care about the battle.. only the battle.” He looked remarkably sober for a moment, “If that’s not corruption, I don’t know what is.” Then as quickly as the skin-shivering soberness had appeared, he suddenly said “WHEE!!!” spun around on his bar stool again, causing the screwed on seat to come off, sending the occupant one way and the stool seat the other.

Seonaed grabbed the stool seat out of the air as the Gnome fell onto the floor a couple of feet below him.

“Oooo. Good thing I’m drunk, or I could have gotten hurt! Hee hee hee.”

Seo decided now was a very good time to flee. She could only hope the others were having better luck.

* * *

Keesa sighed and poked the statue once more. “We’ve tried prayers, we’ve tried magical baths, we’ve tried incense, we’ve tried runes, we’ve tried silly dances.. we’ve asked the elves, the cats, the rats, the frogs, the humans, the guard, the liberia and the wiggly finger people. We’ve had shamans in here, druids, clerics of all faiths, soothsayers, prophets, liars, theives, gypsies and even one Idon’twantoknowbuthesmelled bad! The only people we HAVEN’T had in here is Dwarven engineers because they’re all too busy giggling at the idea of a stoned frog! If I hear one more ‘did he lick himself lassie?’ I’m going to throw the lot of them in the inlet!”

Her gaggle of acolytes just stared at her for several minutes. “Well,” Mia offered, “We could kiss him. You know, like in the story-tales?” Mia was at that human age where everything was about kissing. Her robes were getting suspiciously tighter, and she was washing her dark reddy brown hair every day and twisting them into all sorts of coifs and designs. She wore sandals and painted her claws. She tried scents that made her priestess sneeze. Keesa was heartedly waiting for Mia to either finish her season in the natural way or hurry up and get out of heat. How long could humans need to copulate for anyway?

“Kiss him?” Keesa asked, rubbing her forehead.

“Well, yes. You kiss the princess to wake her, you kiss the frog to make him a prince.” Mia was looking rather embarressed. “It can’t be any worse than the chicken-lady.”

Keesa closed her eyesi n pain. “We’re not going to discuss the chicken lady.” The acolytes giggled. They were STILL finding chicken feathers and in rooms the chickens hadn’t even been in. Teleport a chicken to the higher plane to chat up the Frog’s God.. why had she agreed to that? “Well, go ahead then.”

“Me?” Mia asked wide-eyed. She wasn’t sure she wanted her first kiss to be wasted on a pile of rock. Especially a pile of rock that wasn’t a rich noble, wasn’t even a compatible species. But.. Rodcet did teach one had to make sacrifices in the journey to good. Mia approached the statue and rubbed the cheek with her robe’s sleeve. She leaned over and brushed the Froglok’s cheek with her lips.

There was a crash of thunder, the vibration knocking all the holy folk off their feet. Following shortly was a blinding burst of light and what sounded like every city bell chiming off key.

Keesa was the first back on her feet, having her tail to balance her. She rubbed her watering eyes furiously and blinked away the spots.

“HAVE AT YOU! I will not be taken alive! You foul beasts and..” The Froglok stopped in the middle of the church with his hands held out as if he were wielding sword and shield. “..You’re not aqua-goblins.”

“No.” Keesa told him, carefully. Some Frogloks were known to charge first and try to ask questions of the dead Iksar’s corpse.

“And you’re a high priestess of Rodcet Nife!” He blurted and looked around at the scattered acolytes who had been trying to find weaponry in a house of healing.

That got a raised eye-ridge. Not many recognized her status off the bat. “And you are a Paladin of Mithaniel Marr.” She said. “What were you doing at the bottom of the ocean?”

“Ocean? I was at the bottom of Lake Rathetear trying to reclaim an artifact back from those stinking Goblins when one of their wizards threw a green orb at me!”

Keesa sighed and gestured for the Froglok to follow her, “You’ve been gone a long time - you must be hungry.” Preparing food was a good way to stall. She could only hope the others were having better luck.

* * *

Rassis had felt the spirits would know what was wrong with their world. He had retreated to the house of meditation and let himself fall deep into the trance that would call up the wisdom of his elders. He awoke to being poked between the eyes.

“You do not defend yourself from attack?” Growled the mostly-ghostly Iksar.

“In the middle of Qeynos? In the centre of the monk compound? At..” his stomach growled embaressingly, “slightly after noon?” Who knew what day. “The likiliness of an attack..” Rassis made a dismissive gesture.

“Attacks can happen any time, any when. Do you think people expect a moon to explode and try to land on them?” Was the caustic reply.

“And being prepared for an attack would stop a moon from landing on me?” Rassis grumbled.

“No fool, but it could help you find a wizard and get the hell off the continent!” His ancestor suddenly looked up, “But you should be safe, the other moon looks perfectly happy. Well, except for when it goes through the debris field, but that gives the doomsayers something to analyze every time there’s new marks on it and..” The ghost swung back to Rassis, “You summoned me to speak of astrology?!” Rassis got his forehead spines flicked. “You waste my time!”

Rassis growled deep in his throat, “I did not summon you to talk astrology, you started spouting off all on your own! I want to talk about the actions and plans of the god Bertoxx and where he plans to errupt from!”

He got another spine flicked. “Don’t take that tone with me! Do you want me to summon your mother?”

“NO!”

“Good.” The Ghost settled into a lotus position in the air and looked thoughtful. “You youth, no respect for your ancestors. Summon us here, yank us there, teach me this, tell me that. Why don’t you ever do things for yourselves? In my day..”

“BECAUSE” Rassis interupted, “If we do not stop the works of Bertoxx we shall all be dancing around swamps in loin clothes with festering sores!” Rassis was starting to think he’d gotten this ancestor because the others had kicked him out of the afterlife.

“Great way to meet a lady. Well, except for the festering sores bit.” Rassis’ ancestor closed his eyes and floated up and down for several minutes while Rassis’ stomach hugged his backbone. “Bah - you already know where! You just want confirmation. I’m not going to do your homework for you!”

And the ancestor disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!” Rassis lept to his feet and kicked the much-mended door.. sending it into pieces. Pieces he then made it his duty to break into splinters over the next hour.

Feeling much better he started picking up said splinters. “Already know the answer.. if I’d already known the answer I wouldn’t have summoned the fattail in the first place. I would have just .. well, done something!”

He could only hope the others were having better luck.

* * *

Sheylanna yawned and rolled over on the hammock.

It felt like they had been swimming through the churning ocean for an eternity, the only light in the murky depths the glow of Sheylanna’s shield, an artifact of a long past age.

The salt of the seas stung her eyes, but the ruins in the waters were to fascinating to not look at. Signs of huts and nest like homes, Keesa gestured to belong to a bird people. And a stone circle lay in ruins, once the paths of druids through the ethos. Did Sheylanna miss being able to go from one end of the world to another in a blink of an eye, carried in Tunare’s palm?

Seonaed wondered what that felt like and asked as much, her words travelling strangely in the water. Sheylanna grinned back and up at her, “Kintek said it made him want to drink, but so did breathing. Jalelin always just threw up and felt better.”

“What of our ancestor?” Rassis asked with unusual curiosity.

“He loved it, couldn’t get enough of it. Said it was like flying.” Sheylanna smiled at the memory and kicked her way between two hills. “Through there, at the bottom of that mountain we will find the entrance to the city.”

“We hope.” Rassis grumbled, all cynicism once more.

Seonaed felt her limbs getting tired and was falling further and further behind when Rassis turned on his tail to catch her by the collar and pull her along. The two iksar swam like they were born to water and the elf seemed to be no more uncomfortable in water than she was air. It was only Seo who felt like the odd fish.

The entrance to the tunnel was dark and seemed to vanquish the light of Sheylanna’s shield. Keesa held her amulet of Rodcent Nife up and soon light flourished down the tunnel. Rassis took the lead, dragging Seo, with the two priests bringing up the rear.

Sheylanna came to a sudden stop when they passed a statue of a Froglok in strange robes with markings on its skin. The stone was grey and worn by the tides but the markings were still bright and blue.

Rassis performed one of his flips in the water, making Seonaed wonder what would happen if she got sick in the waters. “What?”

“This has a life force.” Sheylanna said, touching the forehead on the frogman.

Keesa swam up and put her hands on it’s cheeks. “She’s right - this statue has a soul!”

Rassis looked annoyed, “Can either of you do anything about it?”

“Well, not here..” Keesa said, “Maybe in the high temple..”

Sheylanna just shook her head, “It’s beyond my abilities.”

Seonaed felt vaguely worried, she didn’t like to hear there was something beyond the powers of her great-great. What else would Sheylanna be unable to do?

Rassis made a dismissive motion, “Then if we survive, we can take the statue with us when we leave and let Roddy’s priests wave incense over it until the kobolds come home.” He did another flip in the water and continued down the tunnel, seeming not to care that he left the light behind.

Keesa took Seonaed by her belt and swam after her brother, warrior in tow.

Sheylanna brushed the frog’s chest and promised to return.

* * *

The aqua-goblin city was eerie in its silence. The bones and bodies of the occupants had long since gone. Whether the goblins died when the salt water invaded their gills or if they fled during the floods was unknown, but wreckage of belongings still floated in the waters. Bone knives, scale armour bits, even chitin tools.

The adventurers ignored the stone huts and swam for the tower than glowed a bruised purple. It was strange to swim up after swimming down for so long, but soon they found themselves in the bell of the tower. There was a dark burn like stain in the centre and nothing lived here anymore than anywhere else.

“This was where Deep stood and held back the corruption.” Sheylanna said, gesturing at the dark splotch. “But I do not think she died here.” She rested her palm on the stones, but they spoke no feelings to her. Perhaps Kintek could have done better. She wished she could have found him, or his kin, in her searches.

Rassis looked down the stairs and gestured for his sister to come over. “The stories said the entrance was under this tower..”

Sheylanna shuddered and nodded. She turned to Seonaed, “Have faith. Be strong. Believe in yourself.”

With that non-specific advice, she ducked down the stairs, pulling herself along by the weeds that attached themselves to the walls. Rassis swam easily after her, Seonaed being pushed by Keesa.

The bottom of the tower was empty. There was no wreckage, no signs of any struggle ever happened here. The tower looked like it had been built on the bedrock of the lake and had never changed.

“That communicable, diseased, rotting, indectious pile of pus! He MISLEAD us! The stories.. the sources.. all the work!’ Sheylanna lashed out with her scimitar which bit deep into the rock. “The lost agents, the.. The son of a rabid centaur!”

Seonaed swam back from the cursing druid while Rassis studied the round room and Keesa just looked worried. “I don’t feel any evil here - just .. emptiness.”

Sheylanna finally calmed down and floated cross-legged in the waters. “well, now what?” She finally asked, feeling completely adrift. She was completely at a loss. She could feel the power of Bertoxx growing but she had no idea where to find it to stop it.

“Well,” Rassis said, “I suppose its back to buying drinks for bards.” he sighed the sigh of the long suffering. “Lets go grab the frog.”

Seonaed was trying not to notice how much the elves were unhappy holding position in the ocean. Their shaman was muttering and throwing bones and not looking happy at the answers his gods were giving him.

Sheylanna came up on deck with a nice welt on her forehead. Seonaed started to ask and then tought better of it. The druidess wasn’t looking very happy.

“Where are we?” Seonaed finally asked as the four stood staring down at the ocean depths, dark grey clouds rolling in.

“Where is all began. Deep beneath these waves is the remains of what was once a small city of aqua-goblins. In the centre of that city was the tower of their most powerful wizard. A wizard who gained his power through service to Bertoxx.. The only thing that kept him locked in was a strange sorcerous named “Deep” who took over the tower.” Sheylanna’s eyes looked to the skies, “A sorcerous who was lost in the cataclysm. Some think she was the child of the Tribunal.”

Seonaed didn’t quite know WHAT to make of that. “So, uhm, we’re going down there?”

“We’re going down there.” Sheylanna confirmed, giving her descendant a necklace. “You will need this more than I.”

Seonaed looked at the amulet, made of some sort of dark oily scale with strange marks ingraved into them.

“Thank the Shissar, I surely did.” Sheylanna said before turning to speak to the ship’s captain.

“Scared?” Keesa asked softly.

“Terrified.” Seonaed replied, staring at the churning waters. The ship was circling, their anchor not being able to find purchase.

“Oh good, I do hate being alone.” Keesa replied with a tremulous smile.

Rassis snorted and rolled his eyes.

Sheylanna came back, “They can’t wait for us, the storm would smash them to bits. We’ll have to use our citizenship rings to get home to Qeynos.” Without further explanation, she dived off the side of the ship.

“Assuming they’ll work in this pit of corruption.” Rassis remarked as he climbed up onto the railing and jumped off.

“I should have become a seamstress,” Seonaed moaned, following suit.

Keesa gave the boat and blessing and jumped into the depths.

The wooden door splintered inwards with a ferocious explosion, shard going everywhere. Out of the wreckage strode a blonde haired, green eyed wood elf, scowling with a visable green aura raging around her. “WHERE IS HE?” she snarled at the nearest being in a robe.

The dark skinned male fainted.

“Oh for the love of Tunare..” Sheylanna turned on her heel, scimitar pointing at the nearest female while the aura of the sword blended with the aura of nature. “Where if the thieving, conniving, backstabbing scum bag Tagliente Dreshan?”

The young caster pointed up.

Sheylanna started up the stairs and turned as a blast of fire was shrugged off her back. Without a word, a look only, the young dark elf found herself wrapped in thorns and roses. The druid bounded up the stairs. “Freaking stupid Dark Elves!” she grumbled, kicking open the door at the top of the stairs.

The naked matron hollared for her guards as the slave she was entertaining backpedalled across the bed.

“Your guards are a bit tied up at the moment.. but the roses look SO pretty coming out of their empty eye sockets.” Sheylanna growled as she strode across the room. She slapped the matrons hand as she reached for a wand.

“I want Tagliente Dreshan and I want him NOW.” Sheylanna repeated, grabbing the older dark elf by the hair.

“Threaten all you like child of trees, we will not give up one of his!” The caster hissed.

Sheylanna’s eyes narrowed, her aura grew. “I am a druid of nature. I serve the earth mother. You live in a giant cave. Which of us do you think will survive my anger?” There was a trembling of the cave roof above the casting tower.

“Perhaps I was hasty. Let me summon him for you..”

* * *

Tagliente awoke to silk above his head and a breeze that smelled suspiciously of pine dancing about him. He groaned and looked up to see the smiling face of Rassis.

“Oh Innoruk. Not the Iksar!” he moaned, planting an arm over his eyes.

“Oh yes, the Iksar.” Rassis told him with glee. “And the little druid too.”

Tagliente just moaned as Sheylanna came into the tent.

“I think, Necromancer, you owe us some information. Since you read those pretty little runes and flitted off back to your little city before you could tell us what they could say.”

Sheylanna was using her sickly sweet voice. Tagliente’s privates tried to crawl up inside him. He’d learnt that an unhappy druid made for unhappy things happening to him. Unhappy, painful, uncomfortable and unenjoyable things. He had heard the elves of the light had submissive women! What a dream THAT had been!

“We do NOT need the help of the..” he looked for a word that wouldn’t get him gutted, “.. light elves.”

“No?” Sheylanna replied, sickly smile, eyebrow raised, “You think you can take on Bertoxx all by your little selves do you? You couldn’t even stop one DRUID, what do you think you can do to a GOD?”

“Well, in retrospect, it does seem to have been a foolish plan, but you know us..” gah, “Inkies, we’re just fools to our pride and all that. And frankly, I think the entire city would rather die than accept the help of our ancestoral enemies.”

“Oh? But would you rather ROT?”

* * *

Sheylanna bolted upright on the bunk, smacking her head against the bottom of the top bunk. “Son of a fishmonger!” she swore, rubbing her forehead.

Rassis, the epitome of diplomacy didn’t snicker. Instead he just held out her cloak. He didn’t look anything like his ancestor, but had the same strength and honour in his every scale.

“We are nearing the site.” He said, tail lashing back and forth.

“What are the girls doing?” Sheylanna asked, swinging her legs off the bunk.

“Keesa is preaching, Seonaed is being taught the art of the bow and arrow by your brethren.”

“Oh? How is she doing?” Sheylanna asked.

“Barns everywhere are completely safe.” Rassis told her with a smirk. He turned to go.

“He knows we’re coming!” Sheylanna blurted out, feeling eight instead of eight hundred.

“Not to sound too much like my sister,” Rassis said, over his shoulder, “But duh. Of course the god of corruption knows we’re coming. When have we ever gotten the drop on him?”

Sheylanna watched him leave the cabin. “Stupid smart ass Iksar, I don’t know why I put up with them beyond the entire keep saving my life thing..”

Seonaed slumped against the hull of the ship, feeling hot, green and generall miserable. Keesa had done her best, and while Rodcet was a healing god there was only so much one could do for sea-nasuea. Apparently.

“It will be worse, below decks.” Rassis had hissed as he disappeared down the hatch. How nice of him to tell her.

Sheylanna had bullied the elven crew into rigging a canvas sheet over her head for when it started raining. The crew either only spoke Elven or just refused to communicate with lowly humans and Iksar.

They kept making gestures behind Keesa’s back when they thought the cleric wasn’t looking. “I don’t blame them,” Keesa told Seo, pretending not to notice. “They’ve lost so much.. They barely rescued the ships from the Firiona Vie outpost when the sky crashed down.. and my people certainly didn’t make friends trying to steal the ships. Even though I wear the sign of Rodcet, they are scared I may try and harm them like my kind did.” She tucked her tail around her heels, settling beside Seo in the psuedo-tent. “Elves have VERY long memories.”

“How old is Sheylanna?” Seo seemingly asked out of the blue. It was a question that had been nagging her. But her family stories spoke of a happy, bubbly, fluffheaded elf who bounced her way around Everfrost.. not the solemn, serious priested she was travelling with.

“Wow.” Keesa tilted her head to one side to think about it. “I know she was the youngest druid to be made part of the circle - that’s the council that oversees the lands. Twelve druids, six of Tunare, six of Karana. I think she was about forty-five then, barely thirteen by human standards. She served Halas for almost twenty years before she met our ancestor Rassis.. They travelled together for almost five years before..” Keesa was ticking off fingers as she talked. “..the Sleeper was awakened, then it was a lot of years ..” The iksar let out a breath, “At least six hundred, possibly closer to eight hundred, years old.”

Seo’s eyes widened, “No wonder she seems so .. weighed down.” She wanted to close her eyes but every time she did she could feel the sway and swim of the ship that much more and her stomach tried to escape. “I just feel that I shouldn’t be here. My brothers should be - they are true warriors, heroes even.. I’m just barely a trainee! You and your brother are experienced adventurers.. and Sheylanna is centuries old in fighting this evil..”

Keesa nodded along, “Yet, she was the same age as you when she picked up this mantle and took task to stop the corruption of the dark one.”

“But she was so *powerful* you said yourself!”

Keesa shrugged, “You have a true and good heart, you are courageous in the face of battle, and you believe. Those are true and mighty powers against the dark one. Faith is a very strong weapon and your ancestress’ is shaky. Mine is true but I am only one and my god is not the strongest, especially after the shattering. Rassis believe in little but his fists. Listen to your heart and you will fight true.”

Seo stared at her friend, “I think you’ve been eating loco weed.”

Keesa gave her a lopsided grin, “That’s fine - we don’t need you to think, only feel.”

Seo sighed, “I knew you’d gone without talking priesty-doubletalk and nonsense. I swear its why I belong to none of the churches of the old gods.”

Keesa’s grin managed to get bigger, pointed teeth sparkling in the night. “Oh.. you say that NOW..”

And before Seo could protest, the Iksar was gone, her tail flicking against the deck. The warrior sighed and hugged her knees. She had this slight feeling she was in waaaaay over her head.

“You kill seventeen Gnolls, whadya get?
“Another deep cut and deeper in debt,
“Rodcet don’t ya call me, because I can’t gooooo..
“I ooowwweee my sooouuull to the company I keep!”

“Asssscccch!” Rassis hissed, kicking his sister, ducking a blow from the gnoll guard and jumping a bite from a mostly fallen gnoll. “You are NOT a bard! You are not CLOSE to a bard. Ssssstop SSSSSSINGING!”

Seonaed laughed, blade cutting deeply into the gnoll, knocking him back into a wall. She drove a knee into his gut and drove the sword one handed through it’s eye and out the back of its head. As she tried to shake the remains off her blade she was tackled and dragged to the ground.

The gnoll warrior found itself on the recieving end of an Iksar’s staff as he smacked it repeatably; knocking it senseless. Seo looked up to see the Iksar having one of the small slave gnolls hanging off one shoulder, teeth buried into his arm, another wrapped around his legs. She couldn’t help it, she started laughing.

Rassis looked disgusted as he hauled the one off his shoulder and slammed it into the ceiling several times. The one wrapped around his legs started to escape but a whirl of rocks, sand and debris stopped him. Sheylanna looked at Keesa and sighed.

A few gestures from the druid and the slave slumped to the ground, cooked and dead.

Dead and senseless gnolls trailed behind them as they moved forward. “Hear that?” Sheylanna asked as they moved into the next cavern.

Seo cocked her head to one side, not noticing Rassis do the same behind her. “Sounds like running water.”

“Yes. Things get easier from here.” Sheylanna said, gesturing for the warriors to lead the way. Seo and Rassis exchanged hand gestures, “HA! Axe, you first.”

Grumbling the monk ducked into the next chamber and hisss in ire. Seo jogged after him to find him jumping up and down on a spider the size of a guard dog.

She stared while Keesa started laughing. “He does not like spiders!”

“I LOATH spiders.” Rassis corrected, wiping ichor off his feet before he walked down a crude ramp into a cavern with a lake and a waterfall.

“Rassis first, myself, Seonaed then Keesa.”

Rassis nodded, diving easily into the waters and soon disappeared off the edge.

“Go feet first, your head isn’t as hard as his.” Sheylanna said with a playful smile.

“No one’s is.” Keesa commented.

“Mmph.” Seo grunted before wading into the water and letting the tide take her. A maelstrom of water, dizzying, water up her nose, a cold shudder down her back, reorientating and she was stumbling to the shore.

The four shortly stood in a shallow cave of where water dumped into ocean, a wooden, delapated dock ahead of them.

“The ship should be here at moonrise.” Sheylanna said, studying the skies above.

Seo slumped down onto the sands, slightly green thinking of an ocean voyage.

“When you’re sick, choose the side out of the wind.” Keesa told her helpfully. “Otherwise you get it right back.”

Seonaed grumbled, “I really wish we could have brought a shaman.”

“I travelled with a shaman for many years,” Sheylanna told her. She smiled, eyes unfocused, “He bitched, he moaned, he griped.. He never backed down from a fight, turned away from me or refuse to fight evil in it’s every incarnation.” Sheylanna brushed a hand over her the top of her hair, she was the only one standing easily in the poorly made tunnel. “There were none I knew and trusted in Qeynos. I’m afraid you’ll just have to kiss your knees for a while.”

Rassis grumbled, “I’m practically kissing my tail.”

Keesa gave that irrepresible grin, “See? You really don’t need a mate!” She danced out of the way of her brother’s swipe.

Sheylanna gestured for them to wait while she looked ahead. A few whispered words and she disappeared from sight.

Seonaed stared at Keesa’s tail as it twitched back and forth in nervousness, almost hyponotic in its movements.

Sheylanna popped back into sight. “Well, I have good news and I have bad news.” Rassis let out a growl. She patted him on the shoulder. “I found you a couple of shamans, but I don’t think they’re going to do you any favours.”

Seonaed grinned and pulled out her sword, “Well, let’s do them a couple. It’s only polite since we’re the guests.”

“Oh yes, please come in, please slash us with your weaponry and cause us to bleed on your carpets.” Rassis said caustically as he slipped down the tunnel beside Seo.

“I don’t think gnolls have carpets.” Seo said as she spotted the shamans in question. Two furry dog-people sitting at a table, seemingly arguing over bones scattered between them.

Rassis shrugged, “I’m sure they do - stolen from more advanced beings.” He turned his head towards the arguing, rune-covered gnolls. “Ladies first.”

“Better find a lady then.” Seonaed growled. Rassis looked surprised by her vehemance, but instead of explaining she charged the two shamans, slashing deeply into the table as they jumped out of the way.

Seonaed ignored the surprised splutter of snickering from behind and moved to the left to give Rassis room to swing his staff. The smaller of the two gnolls stumbled back, growling in his language while the larger pulled a crude club with a nail through it to swing at Rassis.

Rassis spun out of the way, tail narrowing missing Seo’s head; distracting her and causing her to smack the larger shaman with the flat of her blade. He hissed at her as a strike of cold launched itself into her chest, causing her to stumble back with a yell of shock and pain. Her whole torso felt numb.

The smaller gnoll jumped up and down, hopping from foot to foot and waving his hands. Seo gasped for breath and could only assume it was a “take that, stinky human!” dance. “DO SOMETHING.” she told the two priestesses behind her. Rassis had his claws full with the larger shaman, she could barely catch her breath as she stumbled towards the smaller shaman.

“Rodcet Nife, remove this corrupted creature from the face of Norrath!” Keesa’s voice called out clearly. Seonaed was rocked by the conscussive blast from the bolt of light that came down from the ceiling and blew downwards and out, knocking her, Rassis and the other shaman off his feet. The smaller shaman seemed to be nothing but ash.

“Subtle.” Sheylanna observed, dryly.

Seonaed stumbled back onto her feet in time to see Rassis grasp the remaining shaman’s neck and twist it with a final snap. The corpse fell to the floor in a heap.

“Think anyone noticed all that?” Keesa asked, a bit too innocently.

“Why am I here again?” Seo moaned, dusting off armour and backseat.

“Distraction, mostly.” Sheylanna said with a green-eyed wink on her way past, once more disappearing from site before she took more than a few steps.

“She IS kidding, right?” Seonaed asked no one in particular.

Seonaed crouched in the bushes between Keesa and Sheylanna as Rassis’ tail twitched back and forth in front of her. She passed her sword from hand to hand, nervously, awaiting battle.

“If that blade touches one scale, you are eating it.” Rassis growled back at her.

“Put it away. We are not fighting these gnolls.” Sheylanna told her descendant. They’d decided on “granddaughter” for sake of ease.

“Not fighting - !” Seonaed was horrified. How could they suffer gnolls to live?

“You will see bloodshed enough in the weeks to come. It is best to avoid battle while we can. These gnoll children are beneath us, they are little but a bother.” Sheylanna nudged Rassis’ foot. “Are you planning on doing something any time soon?” she echoed his usual caustic tone of voice.

Rassis sighed the sigh of the long suffering before getting to his feet. He checked that weapons had indeed been put away before pulling his own staff out of his sash. He wriggled his snout and lifted the staff above his head and yelled “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGH!” as he charged the gnolls.

“BUT!” Seo started to rise, Sheylanna grabbed her cloak and hauled her back down.

“Patience!”

Rassis ran around the gnolls twice, easily dodging their blows of crude clubs and thrown rocks before he ran off down the valley with the gnolls in chase.

Sheylanna lept to her feet, “Now!” and before Seo could turn the wrong way, grabbed her and hauled her towards the cliff. “Can you swim?”

She found her self answering yes as after she’d been shoved from the cliff. Keesa neatly diving into the ocean beside her, Sheylanna jumping feet first.

“Holy Tunare, allow us to travel through this water with ease on the quest to end the great corrupter.” Sheylanna prayed.

Seonaed tried to not let her skeptiscim in the gods show. When travelling with two priestesses, it was probably a bad idea to mutter “Hogwash and bollocks!” at their prayers.

Sheylanna dived under the waves, swimming down with practiced ease. Seo watched her dubiously. Perhaps she should have specified how well she swam.. badly.

Keesa gave her that toothy, friendly grin.. the one she knew teh Iksar meant to be friendly but always made her think Keesa was looking for a snack, preferably one that wiggled. “Grab onto my feet.”

After Keesa started lazily swimming back and forth, Seo took ahold of the Iksar’s ankles. Unsure as to why, she barely managed to take a deep breath before being yanked under. She found that Keesa swam like the water goblins - gyrations of body with no kicking. Which, all in all, was probably a good thing.

The trio swam down into the salty depths, entering a rough tunnel in the cliffside.

Her lungs were burning, her eyes were starting to see stars when finally she found herself inhaling water. The water didn’t make her cough, but tasted like the finest air. Damn that elf, she could have mentioned these things! Here she’d been panicked about drowning!

They came out onto a pebbled underground beach that had remenants of past campfires. “What about Rassis?” Seo asked, looking over her shoulder to the water, shivering in the cold damp. Just because her armour was protected from salt water, it didn’t make it pleasant to sit in when her clothing was wet.

“He’ll catch up.” Sheylanna told her. She looked down at her wrinkled, wet leathers with a sigh and began to gather would.

Remembering what her mother said about how to treat your elders, Seo hopped to her feet and followed suit. She found it sickening how much more energy her hundreds of years older great-great had after that little swim than she.

Settling the wood into a simple pyramid, Sheylanna gestured over the wood to have it burst into fire. Seo looked at her suspiciously. “Fire is easy to call. It’s often the first thing druids learn. Of the elements its the one that wants to burst forth. Easy to call, harder to control.”

Seo tried to nod wisely while getting as close to the flames as she could.

Sheylanna sighed as if a student was missing the lesson.

Keesa sneezed. “If you give me a cold, I’m cutting off the tip of your tail.” Her brother told her, rising silently from the ocean.

“Rassis! You’re all right!” Seo called with genuine glee.

That got a raised eyeridge. “I’m flattered by your concern.. or should I be insulted by your lack of faith?” As Seo opened her mouth, he waved a paw, “It was a rhetorical question.” He looked at the fire with disdane. Not wearing much in the way of clothing, he didn’t seem to appreciate the effects of cold wet clothing on the skin - even on Keesa’s scales.

The four sat in silence. Or in Seo’s case, mostly silence as she shifted back and forth - wanting explanations and information but her questions had gone mostly unanswered so far.

“Come then human, I will teach you how to better attack and defend yourself.” Rassis finally said, raising from his crouch.

“My sword against your staff?” Seo asked dubiously. She had little doubt to his skill, but one mistake on her part and he could have two foreheads.

Rassis smirked, “Have you not yet learned things are not always as they appear?”

Deciding there was no right way to answer THAT question, she stood up and drew her sword.

“Legs further apart, right infront of left, stand on the balls of your feet. You’re in sand, dig in with your toes with you thrust to use the power of your legs. When you kick remember your centre of balance, do not over extend yourself. You have hilt to spare, slide your hands along it as you swing, but do not let go.”

As if she would let go over her sword! What kind of beginner did this lizard think she was anyway? Firmly reigning in her temper she eyed him. He just held his staff in a defense position.

“Well?” He taunted, “Waiting for an opponent to die of old age isn’t always an effective method.”

Seonaed rolled her eyes. While anger had no place in battle, he was certainly being a sod. She finally decided on her attack and performed it with text book precision. Right up until her sword bounced right off the staff and the revirbiration rattled up her arms causing her to drop it.

Rassis had the nerve to snicker. Sheylanna and Keesa were very studiously examining some seaweed at the fire.

Seo picked up her sword and glared at the Iksar. “Right. Not. As. They. Seem.”

“I was told beings with red hair had short tempers. You control yours very well.” Rassis told her.

“Master Dagorel would have stripped my hard if I hadn’t learned at least that much.” She told him through gritted teeth.

Rassis nodded. “You are not as inexperienced as I thought.” He stuck his staff back in his belt, “Here, this is how you wish to hold the sword most effectively.” He stood behind her putting his arms around her, easily engulfing her. “When attacking staffs rather than swords you wish to move this way..”

At first she was embaressed by his knowledge that obviously eclipsed her’s but soon fell into the pattern of learning. He eventually let her spar against him once more, but this time fighting back and giving her several staff shaped bruises.

“Come.” Sheylanna said standing suddenly and gesturing the fire out. “The way will be clear.”

Rassis nodded and disappeared into a dark chasm ahead. Sheylanna following him.

Seo sheathed her sword and rubbed at her bruises as she caught up to Keesa. “Do not feel inadequate. You were not taught by your ancestors from an early age. Iksar learn by their dead elders possesing their bodies and teaching the body - if not the mind.”

Seonaed shivered. Her da may have been a hard taskmaster, but at least she hadn’t had her body or mind invaded. Even if she never did become *that* good, she’d happily skip the experience.

With Keesa’s tail tapping her to guide her, Seo stumbled through the darkness. Apparently everyone but her could see to some degree in the darkness. They came to a warped oak door.

Rassis sniffed, “The guards are attending his highness.” He pulled it open and they slipped inside. “Every night the Captain calls all his soldiers to him to check their loyalty.. leaving places rather unguarded. It’s a foolish practice.”

Seonaed had to crouch to prevent her head from cracking on the ceiling. Sheylanna touched Seo’s brow and suddenly Seo could see grainily in the dark.

“Welcome to Black Burrow.” Rassis said, stepping over the half-eaten, partially rotted body of a kobold.

The wind ruffled the tall, dry grass of the plains as the small group walked along the roads.

“So, pretty much everyone in Qeynos knows of you but me?” Seonaed asked of Keesa. They’d walked past some guards who didn’t even look twice at the Iksar twins.

Keesa chuckled in the back of her throat, a breathly gurgle was the best the lizard trhoat could produce to mimic human laughter. “No, but Antonia outfits all her guards with the ability to read the citizenship of the people. If you have been through the citizenship spell..”

“..they call it a ‘ceremony..” the cynical Rassis pointed out.

“ceremony, spell, whatever, you will be ‘attuned’ to the guards.” Keesa finished.

Sheylanna strode ahead of them, moving from clump of herbs to vegetable to berries as the mood seemed to strike her. Rassis lead his sister and Seo on a path mostly straight between her wandering.

“And let me guess, the Freeport guards can sense those who have declared themselves the defenders of Qeynos.” Seo asked her companion.

Keesa, for all that she was years older than Seo, was turning into a friend over the days as they unfolded. Rassis still made her nervous and she didn’t know at all what to make of her ancestress who came no taller than her chest but held so much power.

Keesa gave her a pointed toothed grin. “But of course. The two city-states are very clear in their declarations.”

The two Iksar, for all that the came from the same shell, seemed very different. Keesa stood head equal to Seo’s shoulder, was light green with flecks of gold in her scales with an even lighter underside while Rassis stood taller than Seo with dark green scales and an almost mud-green underbelly. He had spikes from his head where Keesa had fins, and had sharp, unhuman yellow eyes to Keesa’s soft green.

Keesa seemed a generous, sharing and caring soul where Rassis was hardened, bitter and cynical. Was it the nature of twins to be opposites?

“But what of you? Your ancestress is an elf,” Keesa gestured to the foraging Sheylanna, “but you look, smell and seem human.”

“Oh god, family history.” Seo moaned. “As I understand it.. and let me tell you, I never paid much attention to the stories, I’d rather thwack a goblin than listen to someone tell about it it. Sheylanna married Kerok, a barbarian warrior, to produce Kydralane, a half elf. Kydalene then had three children with a human bard named Myros. The eldest child, a mostly human warrior named Seonaed, married .. well, anyway, mostly humans in my background makes me human under the Freeport classifications, Qeynos doesn’t care - my family have been citizens for decades.”

“Ever since Halas fell.” Sheylanna agreed from ahead, her hearing once again becoming evident for it’s strength.

“And where have you been?” Seonaed demanded.

“I carried the last living tree from Greater Faydark to Qeynos to be planted in the Elddar’s Grove. I helped heal the refugees and restore the farms around the city. Once I was no longer needed, my childrens family’s were safe, I once went again to continue with my mission.. to protect Norrath from the corruption of the dark one.”

“Uhm. Thank you?” Seonaed offered.

Sheylanna snorted, a surprising display of humour, “I am old, I am grumpy. Remind me every so often of my mortality.” She then disappeared into a clump of trees for some green bit.

“She’s lived centuries, and she wants US to remind HER of her mortality?” Seo whispered to Keesa.

Keesa shrugged, “Maybe we should throw mud balls at her. It would remind her of her earthy roots?”

Seo grimaced, “You first!” She looked around as the hills were getting steeper. “Where ARE we going?”

“We are going to cross the mountains, into the desert, then we shall sail the seas until the maelstrom.” Rassis told her, over his shoulder.

“What’s in the maestrom?” Seo called.

“I do not know. If we knew, we would not have to go there.” Rassis replied caustically.

Seo felt like stepping on his tail.

The sun dipped down the sky, heading towards evening as Seonaed slapped at insects. Every so often Keesa seemed to pick something from out of her scales but Rassis and Sheylanna seemed immune.

“Are we going to walk all night?” Keesa finally called.

“No.” Rassis replied, then took pity on his sister. “We will cross under the mountains, rather than over them. We can bypass many of the gnolls in the tunnels, it’s harder to avoid the orcs in the peaks and limited passes. We will camp away from Blackburrow tonight and cross into it’s depths tomorrow.”

Seo nudged her friend, “And you said we weren’t going to have ANY fun!”

This is the third “book” in the series - set in EQ2. (Mostly)

The gist of the story is Shey, the original Rassis, Jalelin, Kintek, Kydaan and others are fighting teh corruption of the world. They manage to knock it back but not stop it. End Book 1

Between books : A bad group of powerful beings (Guild: Triton) wake the Sleeper, causing chaos to errupt.. Start Book 2, trying to quelch the damage the sleeper does to the land.. and the gods.. and .. Oh, look, the world falls apart. (Well, actually half of Luclin lands on it) End of Book 2.

Book 3 (which is what you’ll be seeing below) is Sheylanna finding new companions to try and stop the corruption for all good!

Originally the dad of Shey’s daughter was Lobus - but I didn’t want to use him without Lobus’ permission a second time. ^_^;

* * *

Seonaed ducked under the bushes and into the grove. What was it with druids and groves? Why couldn’t they just meet in taverns like everyone else? But no, she’d been hauled out of the nice warm tavern by a runner to go meet some dipsy tree hugger all in the name of “Family”

Her eldest brother was fighting gnolls, her youngest trying to find holy scrolls in the ruins of Rivervale. So, it fell to her to answer the summons. Lucky her.

Crawling out of the shubbery she saw two Iksar standing and talking beside the massive Qeynos wall. Without thought she drew her sword and holding it two handed over her head charged the two evil beings. “YAAAAAAAAAARRGH!” she yelled.

Before she was even halfway to the two lizard people roots broke from the ground, wrapping around her legs and stopping her in mid-run. Seonaed was forced to brace herself with her sword to stop from landing on her face.

“That was stupid.” The bigger of the two Iksar told her, striding over. “I could have hit you here - here - and here.” he gestured with a finger. “And then slapped you.” he gestured a tailslap to her shins. “Your stance is foolish, your yell idiotic and your chance of survival non-existant.” He sniffed and turned away.

The slimmer of the two was obviously female in contrast. “Are you injured?” she asked, fingering a holy symbol.

“Only my pride.” Seonaed muttered, face bright red. She tried to pull her feet free from green mess.

A figure stepped out from underneath the tree that was the corner of the grove. “Their family has lived in Qeynos longer than yours has.” She was small, thinly boned with delicately pointed ears. If the elven blood didn’t indicate familiarity with nature, the fact the roots dropped away from Seo’s legs with a gesture did. One root patted the elf on the leg before disappearing back into the Earth.

“This is Keersa and Rassis. He shares the honour of being named after an ancestor.” She didn’t quite drop sarcasm with the world honour. “And I am Sheylanna.”

Seo stared at the elf. “Great great great something Grandmother…?” She finally asked eyes wide while Rassis snickered.

“Easy for you, friend,” Sheylanna said, flicking his snout. “Your ancestor is long dead of old age. It’s hardly her fault she doesn’t expect her name-sake’s grandmother to show up and demand her presence.”

“But you’re dead!” Seo tried not to wail. She was supposed to be a mighty warrior (if in training) and they weren’t supposed to wail. Or at least she was pretty sure they didn’t.

Sheylanna seemed to consider this. “I got better.” she decided. “I have called you here because a great evil has returned.”

Keesa rolled her eyes, “Evil has always been here.”

“Beyond the obvious evil of Freeport and it’s dark ways. That which awoke the sleeper, started the war of the Gods, caused the cataclysm and the death of Luclin. It rears its head again.”

The grove fell to silence while Sheylanna waited. It was apparent the two Iksar already knew of this and were waiting for Seo’s reaction. “Uhm, and you’re telling me this because?”

Sheylanna smiled an serene, elder elf smile. “Because you’re going to help stop it.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Apprentice, *what* are you doing?”

Dareashea winced at the voice and put down the trowel. “Gardening, master.” She answered, turning and looking up at Master Xydoz.

She could almost *hear* him counting to ten as he gazed down at her. He finally leaned forward pushing a finger into her skull. “Your scales are hard, your skull is soft.”

“Yes, Master.” she murmered, studying the ground at his feet.

“Why are you not translating the Book of Third rites?” He asked after studying her for several long moments.

“I have finished, master. I was waiting for your return to find out my next task.” Which would probably be cleaning out the midden.

“Good. Follow.” Xydoz turned on his heal and started up the back stairs of the Tower, leaving Dareashea to scutter after him in an attempt to catch up.

Xydoz’s office was filled with scrolls and books stacked on what seemed to be ancient shelves. The plaster of the wall was chipped and peeling in more than one place and the tapestries were more than a little worn. “The guards at the north-west gates have reported smelling softskins in the woods. You are going to locate them.” Xydoz stated calmly after settling behind his desk.

Dareashea just managed to get a choke hold around “Me?! Are you MAD?” before the words left her throat. “Yes, Master.”

Xydoz’s eyes were twinkling suspiciously, like he enjoyed setting her these next to impossible tasks. All to see if she worthy of the Tower. *Bah. Someone who can raise half the crypt in their initiation is more than worthy. Stupid old men and their jealousies.*

“Go.” Xydoz finally said when he was tired of looking at the apprentice. Small, fine boned, and afraid of her own shadow. She was certainly a credit to her breeding. He snorted in amusement. The only thing making her worthy to look at was a particularly sleek tail.

* * *

Leaving her robes and helm with Trooper Ozlot, Dareashae wrinkled her nose and started her crawl through the bushes and trees. The Trooper was right, you COULD smell the softskins. It was like smelling furless cat with cinnamon rubbed into it’s skin. A foul, disgusting smell, which tasted horrible.. but she had to taste the air to make sure she didn’t run into any Goblins or Giants. ‘Bad’ didn’t even begin to cover the nastiness of the situation if *that* happened. One or two Goblins she could deal with, but a pack of them? Or a Giant? Her bones would be broken and the marrow sucked out before she could even begin to summon help.

Why was *she* sent? Wasn’t there an entire barracks full of big, brainless warriors who could be doing this? Or a temple full of fur-hugging shamans with their smart nosed spirit familiars? Wasn’t there an infinite number of people who could do this better than she could? Why did the Troopers turn to the Tower for assistance and why in turn did they send HER to scout?

She managed not to sneeze when she got a clump full of mud and pine in a naris. Stupid, filthy woods. She much preferred the nice, warm desert to the south of the city than this humid, cold, filthy forest.

She was cataloguing all the disgusting things that could be found here (Starting with Goblins and working her way up the evolutionary chain to slugs and snails) when she heard what at first sounded like the chatter of squirrels.

*Soft-skins?* Dareashae picked her head up from the ground and listened around her. Ahead and to the left.

Crawling through the bushes left her glad she didn’t have the soft-pink-flesh of the other races and that she’d left her robe back at the guard station. Although, pine needles under scale was far from a pleasant sensation it would hardly leave her damaged. *Just itchy.*

The voices and smells were strong from a grove up ahead, carefully positioning herself, Dareashea looked upon their camp. Recklessly, they had a fire going. Didn’t they know about the winds that came in the evenings that would blow smarks into the undergrowth? Stupid outsiders. Serve them right if they cooked themselves, but unfortunately, it would probably take half the woods with them.

Their chatter was loud and obnoxious. They sounded like rodents arguing over a burial of nuts. Her master had made her study the basics of their tongues, but they weren’t being considerate and writing out what they were saying and showing her. The appeared to be arguing about the watch schedule and some sort of ..bandits? Stupid soft-skins. No bandits, just giants, Goblins, Burnyai and the rare Sarnak. Oh yes, and the mighty legions of Cabilis. Idiots not to be scared of the last.

One of their number, a disgustingly plump, hairy and short member of their number retreated into the bushes near her. Debating whether she should slay the invader or not she heard him rustle with his pants. *Now this is truly disgusting* Dareashea thought with a grimace. *Join the Tower, become a true member of the elite.. Accidentally raise a few dead buried under your shop and look what happens.. You get to hide in the bushes while a half-man tries to piss on you.*

She pulled the communication stone out of the pouch hanging around her neck. *Master, I have found the Soft-skins. They have set up a night-camp.*

*And what do they speak of? What are their plans?* Xydoz replied, sounding rather tetchy. Well, it was getting late..

Dareashea managed *not* to reply *How the hell should I know?* Admitting ignorance was never a good step, not to mention rather disrespectful to the master who was doing his best to shove knowledge into her head. *Their plans appear to be to set-up watch and sleep* She managed not to be entirely too caustic. It was easy to be short tempered when you were covered in mud, lying near soft-skins and had nearly gotten urinated on.

*What is their location?* Xydoz finally asked. She could almost hear his sigh and counting.

Dareashea rolled her eyes. What was she supposed to do, ask some mystic voice for some magic numbers what would relate her exact location? She took the risk of crouching up and looking around, *South woods, west of the guard tower. Perhaps a two hour stalk, just north of the tredal peaks.”

*Excellent. A guard party will be on it’s way shortly.* Xydoz broke contact.

Dareashea stuck the rock back into her amulet. Now what was she expected to do? Lie here and listen to soft-skin chatter half the night while waiting for a bunch of muscle-bound Troopers to show up? Why did she commit herself to the Tower again? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time to get proper training and do her best for her people..

A lumpy, tall, soft-skin was making some great speech. She’d buried the tip of her sword into the ground and was calling to the sky as she kneeled in front of it.

*Nice armour. I bet she could have fed children of her town for months on the cost of that armour.. but better *she* look good than her children be fed. Ignorant savages.* Dareashea thought at the lumpy-too-soft-female.

The woman with pointy ears and shining armour broke off in mid-chant and called something at her companions. The short hairy one looked around wide-eyed, yelped something that sounded like profanity and dove for his backpack.

Dareashea sighed. She’d been sitting her for twenty minutes and apparently the god of the over-armoured, selfish softie had decided she was a danger. Unholy warriors were not known for their brains and this pointy eared wench seemed to be parcel for the pact. How dare she call upon her god in Cazic Thule’s lands, anyway? Stupid pale bint.

The four travellors, two previously hidden by the fire, drew weapons and started to cast about.

*Great, announce to the entire world that there’s beings here. Why not just call ‘here giant, giant, giant’ while you’re at it?* Dareasha slithered her way back and away from the camp. Stupid soft-skins. Stupid master. Stupid apprentice tests.

A man (Dareashea thought it was a man - no lumpy bits) with a very, very nice bow looked out into the woods. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it, although he did stop by where she’d been previously hiding. He bent down and studied the ground. Dareshea considered trying him to gain the bow.. Yeegarn would appreciate it..

Then realization struck. *Damnit, my slither will be visable even to the most night blind.. and I probably left scale impressions all over it.. Four, soft-skins they may be, against me, is not much of a battle. Although, one of those idiot troopers would probably yell and attack.*

The man crouched there for several heart-thumping moments. He then shook his head and headed back into the camp. He spoke a few words with the over-armoured-Unholy Warrior and the four returned to the fire.

The wind shifted causing Dareashea to get a nose full of smells. Underwashed Softskins. Metal. Leather. Roasting rabbit.. Where in the name of Cazic Thule had they found *rabbit* in these woods? Normally the Goblins hunted them almost to extinction each Spring.. and it was well into fall!

A man in robes said something causing his three party members to laugh and pull the rabbit off the fire. *A Heretic!* Dareashea almost got to her feet to run before she remebered herself and pulled out the communication stone once more. *Master! There is a heretic with them!*

Her master said several phrases that Dareashea noted for the future.. if she could find out exactly what they meant. Who was Karana and what were his tits, for example? *Good work, apprentice. The troopers have been warned. Withdraw, if you are discovered..*

Dareashea didn’t need to be told twice. It was one thing to be rewarded for work watching the Troopers dismember some soft-skins, it was another entirely to have to deal with a powerful Heretic. And he must be powerful, why else invade the lands of the Iksar?

Once she was far enough away, she took to her feet and loped back towards the safety of Cabilis. They were probably scouts of the UnClean people, another attack was probably to be coming on their beautiful city once more. They still hadn’t managed to rebuild the damage from the *last* attack..

They needed more builders. Too many children were trained into the war rolls to defend the city. Too many younglings dying in the ranks. They needed the lesser castes filled out for variety in food, variety in clothing.. and for their beautiful buildings to be repaired. Even the Tower had taken damage in the past.. and wooden steps up the side was the repair job instead of the proper recasting and rebuilding that should have happened. The comforting and balanced roles of life was becoming more and more unbalanced as there were fewer and fewer in the “support castes” as Master Rixiz would call them.

All castes were equal in times of peace, but in times of war.. Dareashea sighed with a sudden longing for her simple shop and baked goods. Why did the soft-skins continuously have to attack and hound them? Why couldn’t they stay in their own lands and fight amongst themselves instead of continuously coming into *their* lands and destroying things? Why did they have to set up their forts and towers and steal the food from the young and damage the buildings and treasures that had been there for centuries? Jealous, savage, unclean beings.

Dareashea could smell the signal fires of the barracks and hastened her steps. The sooner she returned to the city, the sooner she could have a bath and forget about the soft-skins and their selfish, blasphemous ways.

* * *

Master Xydoz was apparently with the Troopers. Such danger was the Heretic that a master of the Tower was sent to deal with him. Master Rixiz looked at her with disdain. “Bathe and then write a full report.. *after* cleaning the baths! You are a mess” He sniffed.

What the hell did he expect after she’d slithered through half of the undergrowth of Warslik’s woods? Moronic Master. And she got to clean the baths. Lovely. Just because THEY had supposed better things to do with their time, it fell to the lowest of apprentices to clean up after them and take care of the tower. Stupid masters and their slovenly ways. If they just cleaned up after themselves as they made messes it wouldn’t be such a chore..

But they probably remembered when *they* were apprentices and had to do such things and were just “sharing the learning experiences.”

Well, the hell with them. Picking up a couple of buckets, Dareashea went outside to where her ally Nihilist Yeegarn was standing. He looked at the mess she was and smiled and took the buckets. Well, she’d done similar for him after he’d returned from battles. Patch up and bathe.

“I don’t suppose you remembered a scale-pick? Some of that crud is well imbedded.” Yeegarn said with a smirk.

“Yes, of course I did.” Dareashea didn’t *quite* snarl. If she hadn’t, he’d just use his claws and that HURT.

“Good.” As she moved to stand over a drain, he filled a bucket from the aqueduct and merrily dumped the mostly-clean water over her head. Clean-up would probably take as long as the scouting mission itself. “Have you managed to procur the History of the Sarnak creation yet?”

Dareshea sighed, Yeegarn was *obsessed* with books and histories and tales. He didn’t care about the race it was about or written by, had a very ecclectic library and expected his friends to share his passions in reading.

* * *

Harbringer Glosk looked down at the Nihilist and the lowest Apprentice with incredibly rare amusement. He was more ofteen seen impatient, surly and grumpy. “I like her,” he told Master Rixiz. “She is imagintive, ingenius and shows great patience.. for all that she cowers, is unconventional and forgets half the steps in a ritual.”

“If you need a gardener, a baker and a mud-covered child, yes, she is well chosen for the job.” Master Rixiz said sourly. He was well known to speak the words ‘What is the tower coming to?’

“It is a desperate age for us, Rixiz, we shall need ingenius youth if we wish to survive and reclaim our lands.” Glosk told the Necromancer with rebuke. “And better children with ..” he paused, and spoke words in the foreign tongue of humans, “Senses of humour” before returning to Iksar, “than ones without. I shall enjoy watching this one grow.”

Rixiz waited for his master to climb the stairs back to the top of the tower. “I think he has gone mad.” The experimenter commented, watching the girl and guard below laughing and bucketing water at each other. “Truly mad.”

“You really spend fourteen years here learning to be a bard?” Sheyna asked as they joined a line-up. The system seemed to be that of every military everywhere; grab a tray, pick of the offerings of each food type and pile it as high as you would eat and retreat to table and benches to eat. Water seemed plentiful on each table, tea available by the mug at a seperate serving centre.

Sora shook her head, beads clanking. “I misled you, I’m sorry. Training at the capital is typically two to four years, depending of your level coming in. But, I spent ten years learning my arts at home before I applied for my bardship. I should say bard training is typically four year, musicianship is ten years before that. Just like I’d suspect you spent ten years becoming sailor and scout, and will now spend four years becoming Watch. Some do it faster as they come in grossly over-prepared and under special circumstances others can take longer.”

Sheyna absorbed this as the line moved up. She noticed  a few people seemed to ignore the line entirely. “Special treatment..?” she murmered, nodding to a man in dark greys who marched up, grabbed a tray and filled it without breaking stride.

“Outrider.” Sora said, “Initiates on duty don’t wait, full members not either. The rest of us take our turn since we, supposedly, don’t have the demands on our time everyone else does. Typically though, I take my meals late and just ignore the crush.”

“Thank you for catering to my stomach today then,” Sheyna replied, wishing she could see more over the bodies in front of her. “How do you know all this anyway?”

“I’m a bard, we know everything,” Sora replied, eyes dancing. Snorting at the expression that earned her from below, she continued, “You’ll know it all two by your second or third year. Its hard to live here and not just absorb everything around you. You’ll know counter schedules even if you never take anything more than the basic class. We’re a fairly mixed bag, and only the snots stand off.”

Sheyna took that mean the young nobility. She supposed she’d be the same if she hadn’t been tossed onto a ship as a toddler and made to learn to make do.

“Most of THEM don’t even eat with us, being able to afford to eat whenever and wherever they choose. The unlucky initiates who are of birth but not Watch typically take their meals with the court.” at Sheyna’s confused look, Sora continued, “Family obligations and all that. A healer can be of second rank but still get nagged by their mother to find the right wife.”

Sheyna snorted, “Glad I’m not in that mess. My family would sooner try to set up one of our ship’s for marriage than their children. My Great-Grandmother declared that we’d marry for love or not at all.. and she didn’t care what gender our partners were if they made us happy and could bait a hook.”

Sora smiled, “How unusual for you barbarians, normally you’re marrying your kids off in the womb.”

Sheyna rolled her eyes, “And how do you north-wetters do it then?”

“Like any civilized being, of course, we beat the snot out of each other until we find one we like and when we no longer like them, we ditch them and start over. Children belong to the mother, not the father.”

“Bit hard on the father, don’t you think?” Sheyna asked, seeing they were finally at the head of the line she followed the chatting couple in front of her’s example and started choosing things. It didn’t look any better than any other heat it and let is sit system but it didn’t look too bad either, even if the apple crumble looked a bit sad around the edges.

The two women grabbed a seat at a bench near the back of the room, almost back beside the door they’d come in, before Sora continued on the conversation where it’d been left. “I didn’t say we killed him and kicked him out of the clan. If the father wants to stay in his children’s lives and he supports himself within clan, he’s welcome to stay. Well, unless he’s a beater or something, but chances are he wouldn’t survive the clan mothers finding out anyway.”

Sora supposed a society that supposedly taught spearmanship along with toilet training would lead to such things. It still seemed awfully backwards to her. She decided to change the subject, “So, what can I expect over the next few days?”

Sora chewed on the overcooked meat before answering. It had taken a year of training for her to stop talking around mouthfuls of food and Fernese still occassionally threatened her for bad eating manners. “You’ll be woken up at the ‘oh my god’ of dawn, dragged out to the healers who will test your physical condition before you’re kicked out to the weaponsfield. There they’ll test your aptitude with various weapons and free form fighting. From there you’ll be tossed over to the riding field so you can show your prowess, or lack there of, with various mounts and types. You’ll get a wash and lunch before you’re handed over to the achemedics who will give you brain twitching testing to see what your scholarly abilities and aptitudes are. After being tortured in brain for the afternoon you get released for dinner. You then get a free evening before bed and the next day you get the rounds of uniforms and outfitting.” She paused to chew on another piece of meat, missing her village where she could have just eaten it off the bone, “I should warn you, you can get bounced from the Watch’s recruit list during testing. If you’re not suited, you’re just not suited. The testing will tell them what you are suited for and they’ll offer to transfer you across to whatever discipline you qualify for.”

Sheyna tilted her head to one side and said quietly, “I’ll be Watch.”

Sora shrugged, that’s what they all said. They wouldn’t apply if they didn’t think they could make it. “Do you think you can find your rooms by yourself? I have a practice room booked for after dinner and want to use as much of the time as I can.”

Sheyna grinned, “Oh, I think I can manage that fine.” If she could navigate by sun or stars, she was fairly sure she could manage a couple hallways and some stairs.

“Great!” Sora replied, finishing off the last of the cobbler she’d snagged for desert, “You finish up and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Sheyna watched where Sora deposited used dishes and her tray before returned to her meal. She should have asked Sora how she’d been assigned as her guide, but figured it was some sort of rotational duty amongst the students or initiates. She wasn’t quite sure on Sora’s rank since the woman herself hadn’t seemed to sure herself.

First place to visit after dinner was a faucility, and then she’d go discover the library. The downside of spending eight months of the year at mast was you couldn’t exactly bring a lot of books along with you!

Sheyna was told to wait for her guide in a small room that was probably used by waiting messengers. The vague smell of wet leather, sweat and rassi wrapped around her. She had never seen one of the large rabbit like creatures the messengers rode, but their scent was making her nose itch.

A tall woman ducked in under the doorway. This older section of the castle didn’t seem to have been made with the north-west barbarian tribes in mind. The woman was easily six and a half feet tall, with red hair in a wild mess of curls down her back. It was clipped back but otherwise untamed with various braids and beads hidden within. Her complexion was half-sunburnt, half-pale underneath peeling skin. Sheyna was surprised at the lack of freckles, she’d heard the north-wetters had the splatter-spots all over them. The woman was wearing worn training leathers and had a short sword at her side. “I’m Initiate Sora,” she introduced herself curtly, “If you’d follow, I’ll give you the tour and your room.” Green eyes flickered to Sheyna’s feet. “No gear, eh? I’m guessing either lord or pauper.”

“Aren’t we without rank here?” Sheyna asked with a raised eyebrow and pointed verbal expression. She got to her feet and pulled her shoulder pack with her personal necessities on.

Sora snorted, “Right Lady. That’ll happen.”

Sheyna shook her head, “Sheyna, please. I have no intention of playing high lady of the seas.”

“You’re one of the few then,” Sora said and gestured for Sheyna to proceed her out the door.

“Lots of politics then?” Sheyna asked as Sora ducked the doorway and pulled the door over behind her.

“Lots of blood suckers, oh yes. You’ll find the first year is always full of crap and nonsense. It’s mostly to weed out the useless, get the useful to where they belong and that sort of stuff.” Sora started to stride down the hall and then slowed her pace so Sheyna wasn’t jogging to keep up. “The training grounds belong to the Watch, the Guard, the Outriders and the Service.”

Three of those Sheyna had heard of, “the Service?”

Sora nodded and indicated a green and blue badge on her shoulder. “Services. Healers, Bards, Scribes, Counters.. Any who are in service and pay of the kingdom but don’t typically weild a weapon.”

That earned the woman another raised eyebrow and a pointed look at the sword on her belt.

Sora laughed, “I said typically.

They passed from the granite walls into a newer section, grey bricks still but these lighter with flecks of gold, purple and reds. Sheyna stopped to look at them and ran her hands over the brick in fascination as if she could feel if they were magic. She didn’t care if she looked like a country cousin.

Sora didn’t seem to look down on her for her open fascination and curiosity, “That’s Quartzite bricks from the eastern border. Back when we absorbed the Terrsini, they gifted the queen with enough to connect the palace into an even bigger rat warren.”

Sheya shook her head and continued in Sora’s shadow. “So you’re in services? Is every healer in this part of the kingdom? We don’t get a lot of true Bards in the south.”

“Anyone who has the kingdom pay for their training serves.” Sora answered. “For every year of your training is a year of service owed. Of course, you can wing it on your own freelance and hope you make enough to repay your debts, or if your family is rich enough you can pay your own way, but mostly healers come to the capital, take their eight years, serve for eight years then go freelance. Means that the less populated areas always have healers. As for bards, we tend to go where the battles are, and while you have your pirates, those songs are often carved by the sailors who see them; not much use for us on the waves. ”

Sheyna absorbed this, realizing while she may know the politics of her people well, she was fairly oblivious to the way the kingdom was run. She wasn’t even sure what the watch did beyond show up, make notes and decisions for the king and disappear again. She knew training was four years, but that was it. Seeing as her guide seemed chatty, she asked how long training was.

“Depends what you’re doing. Bard is fourteen, Healer is eight, Watch is four, Outriders is three.” She shrugged, “I’m going to assume you want to know about the Watch.” She winked down at the girl who was a foot and a half shorter than her. “Your first year is introduction and training. Most people start for the Watch and they’re placed where suited. It’s no shame not making the Watch, but there the demands of the job being what it is, about one in twenty make it. You’ll be tested to see what talents you have and you have the first year to get it all up to the standards of second year. Second year is perfecting your knowledge and abilities. Third year you’re partnered with an elder L’ssa and will tour the inner kingdom routes with an elder human, young L’ssa team. Fourth year you and your partner are on the outer kingdom and then you graduate from recruit to initiate and you get to choose your L’ssa partner and off you go. Partnerships are reevaluated every two years, but if the shit hits the roof, you can always request reassignment. Watch without partners tend to attend the courts and all that crap. You’re a noble, you’re probably used to that nonsense, but the King tries to keep court watch to the lower born who’ll suffer it. They tend not to get dragged in by their families.. and no matter what anyone says about the Watch having no allegiance but Kingdom and King, you’re all still human with blood ties and friends.”

Sora led them through another set of double doors, this time the walls were a reddish brick on the upper half, abused wood panelling on the lower. “And here is the classroom complex. You’ll be sharing it with the students of all four services plus any scholars or paying students who happen to show up. This corridor is the industrials; armour, weapon repair, that sort of thing.” She continued on to a four way. “To your right is the practical courses; drafting, map making and reading, wilderness survival. To your left is the book courses of laws, history, religions, yada yada. Beyond that is the conservitory and the instrument classrooms and practice rooms. Straight ahead is the student’s library and common access to the upper floor and dorms.” She pointed out the doors at the end of each hallway on the one side. “Those lead to the outside world. Stables, riding rings, weapons yard, gardens, diplo-quarters for those who prefer the outside to the inside. ”

Before Sheyna could ask to indulge in curiosity, Sora was opening a door halfway up the library hallway. “Down here is the messhall. Up the stairs is the dorm. They’re over the other to mooch warmth in the winter and fortunately for us they don’t cook a lot of warm foods in the hot month.” The stairs were well worn but clean. “Rooms are organized by arrival section. If you switch from Watch to Outriders you won’t be forced to move rooms, so they tend to get a bit mixed bag by your third year. Coming in just before year start, you won’t have a lot of room’s to pick from, but I’d recommend one near the baths and away from the utilities room.”

Sheyna was a little surprised to learn the two were seperated. The bathing chamber had only two faucilities, while the utilities room had about ten. She could see why one might get a little tired of the traffic.

“People tend to only use the bathsroom if they’re bathing or their room happens to be nearby.” Sora offered as she showed Sheyna what she felt was the pick of the available three rooms. Only one window, high above the bed and facing south. The bed wasn’t particularly wide, and the closet was about a third of the size of her one at home, but there was a weapons rack, a desk, bookshelf and the room was of decent size she supposed for a dorm. It would have fit inside her sitting room in her personal suites at the keep. Of course, she hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time in those rooms and she didn’t think she’d be spending a whole lot in these ones either.

Sora wrote Sheyna’s name on the chalkboard beside the door with a symbol she said represented the watch. “You’ll find people use these as message boards as much as anything since lodestone sticks to them nicely. Now, shall we see about getting you dinner?” Sora stopped at the door back down to the cafeteria, “Er, I suppose I should ask if you have any more questions?”

“What instrument do you play?” Sheyna asked. She knew it was hardly relevant, but her brain was so busy trying to process the dump of information she was grasping.

Sora laughed, “My primary is harp, my secondary is fortepiano. The latter is a bit hard to lug around, so I make do with what I can find during my journey training. But as any good bard will tell you, if it can make music I can do something with it.”

“So modesty isn’t apart of music training?” Sheyna teased.

“Of course not!” Sora looked mock offended as she opened the lower door once more, “All bards learn ego and brass in their first year!”

For Louchan

* * *

“Tell me a story!” bounced the shaman.

“Aren’t you a little *old* for bed time stories?” Meena grumbled, looking up at the furclad high elf. Really, his fashion sense left a lot to be desired!

“Twice your age and three times as wise.” He agreed, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Meena stuck her nose back in the book and managed to ignore the light elf for all of about three minutes.

“FINE.” She said to the bouncing shaman. Maybe if she told him this ’story’ he would go away. Knowing her luck, it would just encourage him. “Once upon a time there were three elves.” she started.

“Giggity!” the shaman said with glee and scrambled over to the nearest chair and sat, legs crossed underneath him. He settled hand on chin and watched Meena with fascination.

She closed her eyes for a moment and gritted her teeth. Really, for the eldest of elders, you’d think his mother could have installed some manners. “One elf was a tree-hugger, one elf was a city builder, and the third elf was a shadow weaver.”

“What’s a shadow weaver?” was the immediate question into her pause for breath.

“Shut up and you’ll find out,” Meena growled. Really! Would she actually have to go down to the kitchens and fetch a wooden spoon or a frying pan or something to discipline him with?

“K!”

Deep breath in, deep breath out, remind self you couldn’t kill them all until you got what you wanted from them. “The tree hugger spent all his days dancing and prancing in the forest and got nothing done. When the collapse came, his forests were burned, his people destroyed and he had to go live with the humans.

“The city builder locked himself away amongst his bricks and minnerets and tried to build a city that looked to be spun of sugar and magic. He too did not notice the world’s changes and developments since he was so involved unto himself. Then the collapse happened and his city was buried along with his people and he had to crawl away to live with the humans.

The high elf blinked at her in fascination for the story, shifting from side to side.

“Finally, the shadow-weaver, the dark elf, had been manipulating events all along. A little bit of hate here, a little bit of disease there, a little bit of chaos, and a lot of darkness. When the collapse came not only did the city of weavers stay safe beneath the earth, but the dark elves were the chosen in the new world order and ruled from the side of the lich king.”

She looked at the high elf expectantly. “Uhm.” he offered.

Meena sighed, “The morale being every elf but those of innoruk are blind!” It was obvious!

The shaman got to his feet, shaking his head, “No offense, but your story kind of sucks.”

Meena watched him go off to bother someone else. The bonus of the situation here was he wouldn’t be bothering her again and he proved the story all in one gesture.

The shaman bounced on the balls of his feet a couple times. “So, tell me another story!”

Meena cursed.

Maybe this is why Jeph’s never healed me? *inno*

* * *
Meena was gritting her teeth, the pencil between her teeth was creeking as she ground into the wood. She wasn’t actually using it for anything other than tooth guard since she much preferred to work in ink. It was probably for the best since she finally snapped it and her temper.

“For the hate of Innoruk, it’s G-F-G repeated THREE times, not G-F-E!” Meena snarled over her shoulder, down the stairs to where the would-be bard was mangling the song on the mandolin.

“Oh, so now you’re a bard, too?” Came the overly cheerful voice from the other side of the table.

Meena glared between the stacks of books. “Look, tree hugger..”

“Yes, corpse kisser?” The cheerful voice replied.

Meena’s eyes narrowed as her mouth actually rose into a snarl. Bad enough she’d had to make nice with a Qeynosian guild to get access to the books she needed, but worse she had to sit and share the knowledge with the dreaded enemy. “Show respect for your betters!” Meena finally snarled, standing as she slammed her hands down on the table. Several books books jumped and slid off the table from the abuse.

A faerie like giggle, “Show me my better and I shall,”

“You’re laughing at your own funeral, root chewer!” Meena snarled, looking down at the wood elf who seemed perfectly happy to not look up from her herbal.

“Oh, don’t worry,” green eyes looked up over the page, dancing with amusement, “I wouldn’t have the poor taste to die anywhere where near *you*.. Tunare knows what you’d do with my body.”

“I’d say feed it to the maggots, but I’d hate to poison them!” Meena thumped back down in her chair and picked up the tome once more. She managed to find the larger piece of pencil and started chewing on it once more.

It was several minutes before she realized the druid across the table was humming under her breath. Humming the song the minstrel downstairs was back to butchering. Salt in the grave, the wench was counterpointing the incorrect melody!

“THAT’S IT!” Meena yelled, getting back to her feet, “CHoose your second, Green elf!”

“I don’t need a second, Inkie!” The elf bounced to her feet, “Courtyard?” she asked with a pointed smile.

“After you!” Meena replied happily, she would wipe the floor with this ignorant little leaf kisser.

“Oh no, my dear, after *you* .. When’s the last time you heard of a Tunarean stabbing someone in the back?” Bat of long blonde eyelashes.

“Last week.” Meena said. “Fine, you take the portal on the 2nd floor, I’ll take the one in the crafting hall.”

“Perfect.” The other woman agreed and they marched off in seperate directions.

* * *

The first time the keep rocked and there was the sound of exploding rock, the guild members just assumed the alchemy lab had been abused. The second time, especially when it was accompanied by a girlish scream of pain, caused the majority of the inhabitants of the keep to rush out into the courtyard.

Even in a few minutes of battle, there was a mess to behold. The spirit dragons that once graced the mighty pedestal were currently being held off by two treants. The cobblestones had been ripped and torn asunder by roots battling rats, the druid portal stones had been half knocked over by a skeletal hand out of the ground, and the wizardly portal was a small smoking crator.

Trees were uprooted and walking, surrounded by attacking insects. All sorts of remains were wrapped up in the anger of nature. A small tornado whipped through the courtyard and caught the dark elf in mid-cast.

“Five plat on Jeph!” was the first comment out of the stunned audience.

“Hate, I’ll take that and add four for the new comer!”

“I’ll match and meet!”

Quickly coins of all sorts were piled up and put into safekeeping as they watched the duel of mage and priestess continue. Several times they had to rapidly move where they were because the festivities came their way.

“LADIES!” The voice bellowed through the courtyard.

The combatants and audience alike turned, stunned, to view the warrior who stood on the steps of the main door to the keep. Several of the keep’s servants hid behind him.

A gesture had them trot forward with wheelbarrows full of buckets, stones, grey dust.

Eyes narrowed at the two women who were busy trying not to look at each other. “Start rebuilding. NO MAGIC.” he growled.

He strode down the steps, “As for you lot,” he started at the audience, “You all should know better.” He picked up the stack of coin, “But thank you for the donation to this month’s tithe pool.”

Turning on his heel, the tall and broad warrior strode back up the steps.

“Well, DAMN.” Muttered the gnome, shoving his sunglasses back up his nose, “Atan wins again.”

Just for Draad

* * *

The Erudite looked down, way down, at the little cream coloured Ratonga that was holding something up at him. “What is that for?” he asked, eyebrow ridge raised.

Ceekra wasn’t sure how any being with no fur or tail could try and look superioristic. Too tall, too hairless, and just like Meena, to absorbed in the mental world to even recognize things when offered. “It’s a cookie,” Ceekra repeated, “You eat it.” Really, you’d think any being that could read languages dead before humans were born would know what to do with a cookie!

“I know it is a cookie,” the wizard said with a long suffering sigh, taking the offered tidbit, “My query was..” He trailed off and shook his head. “Nevermind. Thank you for the cookie.”

Ceekra gave a happy ratty smile, “You’re welcome Mr Wizard!” and gave him a sketchy, if enthusaistic, bow, before running off to find the next person to give one of her cookies to. Boy, she hoped everyone liked the recipe.

Draadaest sighed at the cookie and took a bite out of it, more to dispose of it than anything else. It was strangely crunchy, with an odd texture. He peered at the snack suspiciously and realized there were grasshopper bits in the mix. He fished a bit of leg out of his teeth with the nail of his pinky and wondered if he could toss it in the fountain without a certain Barbarian warrior tracing it back to him.

He heard a sniffing by his elbow and turned to see a Sarnak trying to figure out what it was. “Here,” he said handing over the confection with relief. “I think this will be more to your tastes than mine.”

The Sarnak tossed the three-quarter cookie into his maw and chomped down happily. “Yum!” he grumbled, “Draad good cook.” He added socialably.

Draadaest shuddered slightly at the thought. “No no, you should find the little mouse in armour and thank *her* for the delicious biscuit.”

Grakus nodded happily and turned on tail to sniff down the creator of yummy cookies. The Wizard mumbled to himself in irritation, really, he was surrounded by books, you’d think even those that thought with their axes could figure out he was trying to get some work done!

Meena looked down her nose at the strangely carved goards that were lining the path near the jeweler’s. “What in Innoruk’s name is this? A harvest festival?”

Ceekra, while much newer to the city, was much quicker to learn about other cultures than her dark elven partner. Meena had a very limiting “If it’s not Nerikian, it’s crap!” attitude. “Pumpkin.” The ratonga offered, tail twitching across the cobblestones in amusement.

Meena closed one eye to give Ceekra a hairy eyeballed look. “I know what the fruit are. I am querying why they are sitting around rotting on the streets.”

Ceekra’s tail was dancing her amusement, her ears being very careful to sit still. Meena was quick to pick up on expression of whiskers and ear, but she seemed to miss the tail. Silly, limited dark elf, how could she miss such a wonderful thing? “I do believe it is part of a human celebration. I would think you would know of it, being it celebrates death.”

Meena stopped with a frown, stepping to the edge of the street. It was dripping rain so there wasn’t a lot of traffic, but the messengers of the Overlord weren’t much to getting out of the way of fools who stood in the middle of the road to chat. She pointed at one of the pumpkins, it’s leering face flickering from the candle within. “How does fruit have anything to do with death? Besides the whole rotting, sweet stinking mess of it?”

Ceekra gave a rodenty smile, “The last day of this month, to the humans, is the day the veil between life and death is at it’s thinnest. Some celebrate this day, some make offerings to keep the dead happy, some just remember their dead..” Ceekra looked left and right, as if she wouldn’t have smelt someone coming up on them, even in the rain. Her voice lowered, “They say in Qeynos the human parents.. they all send their children begging in the streets for candy, and if you don’t give it to them, they can play *tricks* on you.”

Meena looked at Ceekra for several long moments, not sure if the Ratonga was mocking her or not. While Ceekra *could* tease, her information was unusually reliable. “What a load of rot and nonsense. The veil is the veil. It weakens or grows depending on where you are, not what the sun is doing.” she snorted, shaking her head and sending the drips off her hood flying. “Humans are so stupid.”

“The Overlord is human and supports these festivities.” Ceekra pointed out.

Meena wasn’t quite sure if her partner was trying to caution her, or just trying to extend the conversation. Ceekra was the chatty sort and Meena really wasn’t. The two may go forth to find things treasures and compenants together, but that didn’t really mean Meena much wanted to have tea with the rat. Even if they lived in the same house. She sighed, “The Overlord is no mere human, he never was.. and of course he supports the ways of the most numerous of his people’s. It costs him nothing and gains him much. What do any other race care? It’s silly, but it costs us nothing.”

Ceekra wasn’t quite sure the Overlord was that generous, but she also wasn’t as sure that he oversaw as much of his empire as the necromancer seemed to believe he did. She noticed Meena had started to stride towards the jeweler’s once more and scurried to catch up. She caught the door as Meena opened it and followed the mage inside.

The merchant behind the counter, possibly one of the jeweler’s kin, possibly just one of his hirelings, was a half-elf and was dressed to look like a zombie. Ceekra wished she’d been in front of Meena to see the expression on the dark elf’s face upon seeing THAT. Ah well, she might hear about it later.

Meena pulled out a bag from within her robes and placed it on the counter. Meena tended to carry their wealth. Either female was more than able to protect it, but the necromancer recieved far fewer challenges. “Put it on account.”

Meena didn’t trust the Overlord’s banks. When the Overlord’s army needed money, sometimes funds went missing. The jeweler, however, always knew where his products came from. Most Dwarves served the Antonican witch queen and most gems and ores went their way. Ceekra thought any coin not in paw was gone, so why worry? Perhaps its why Meena insisted on handling most of their finances of hearth and home.

Ceekra was peering at the displays while Meena dickered with the half-bred. Ceekra wasn’t quite sure what it mattered if one’s parents weren’t matched, but it apparently mattered a great deal to the bigotted elf. She shoved that thought aside when she spotted something with. “Meena!” she called.

Meena sighed and rolled her eyes before turning her head. Really, the little furry warrior was worse than a magpie sometimes. What shiny thing had caught her attention now? She walked over to where Ceekra pointed and raised an eyebrow and slowly smiled. “You’re right, I do like it.” She tapped on the glass, “I will take that.”

The merchant seemed amused and unlocked the case to pull out the necklace and handed it over. It was a silver elven skull with rubies for eyes on a silver rope chain.

The two mercenaries finished their business and left the shop, back into the dreary Freeport rain. “Hmm,” Meena mused, “Maybe this human celebration isn’t all bad. It does bring out some pretty things.”

Ceekra snorted, only a necromancer would think a silver skull with glowing red eyes was ‘pretty.’ But she was happy the Necromancer had liked the find, a happy Meena was a much easier Meena to live with.

Ceekra scrambled out of the den and stretched under the moon. Feeling the presence she whirled in the shadow to face the being behind her. She was surprised to see one of the inked skinned dark elves so close to the Ratonga dens, dressed in dark scarlet robes and head fur in a no nonsense tail. It seemed to many of the inkies went for the impractically eloborate. The female seemed to be amused by something.

Looking down, she asked. “Do you have hands?” the voice was serene, if cold.

Ceekra held up her paw like hands. “Kind of?” She asked back in as simple of human as she knew. She’d tried to learn it, planning on leaving the warrens for the human world, but there weren’t a lot who knew it down below.

The female grasped Ceekra’s wrist and held it up, hurting Ceekra at the shoulder from the angle. Ceekra wrenched her arm free and grabbed one of her axes from her belt. The beat up bronze axe was dented and abused, but it held a very carefully sharpened blade.

The female dark elf sighed, “Not a hand.” she declared with disappointment and looked away over Ceekra’s head.

Elves were very strange creatures, Ceekra knew from legend and lore. “Why you need hand?” She asked, tucking the axe back in her belt and rubbing her arm.

The lavender eyes looekd down at her again. “That is my business ra-” she changed from saying rat, to ratonga at the last moment, “-tonga.” She suddenly smiled and crouched down to look Ceekra in the eyes. “Do you know your way through the pits to the battlegrounds, little one?” she asked sweetly.

Ceekra eyed her warily, she was small even for a Rotonga, and didn’t much appreciate being reminded of it. Of course, barely coming to this elf’s waist she could understand why the pointy-eared furless would think her small. “Yes.” she finally answered simply.

The Dark Elf straightened and brushed non-existant debris off her robes. “Will you guide me?” she asked, wondering what the little furball would want in return.

Ceekra held still, not even her tail twitching. While chances were the elf would try to kill her at some point throughout the night, she had the key to what she wanted. “You take me into city?” she asked.

A raised eyebrow as the price was weighed. It wasn’t as if there weren’t enough of the little rats running around the city, but she wouldn’t imagine anyone of rank would be happy with another being added to their ranks. “I will get you within the gates.” was the compromise.

Ceekra nodded. “I Ceekra of Kitash warren.”

“And I am Meena Le’Dre of the seventh house.” She gestured for Ceekra to lead on. Titles of home equally meaningless to each, Ceekra nodded and scurried off to the west. While much more nimble than the mage behind her, Meena’s vastly longer legs made up the difference.

Only the burning Luclin was up in the night sky, though the stars seemed to shine more brightly once the hills hide the majority of Freeport’s lights from direct view. “Why battlefields?” Ceekra asked, sniffing the wind.

“The graveyards have been picked clean already.” Meena responded with a distasteful wrinkle of her delicate nose. “And no one has had the good taste to die recently.”

Ceekra decided, since she’d already been disqualified, “Why not take life hand?”

Meena sighed, “Because maiming citizens of Freeport would get me maimed in return.”

“Buy?” Ceekra asked, darting to check some bushes for spies before leading the mage on. The mage seemed to have no thought about enemies outside the gates, either she was very powerful or very new.

Meena shook her head, “I do not have that kind of money. I’m still an apprentice.”

Ceekra had heard that mages were trained for great lengths of time, being mostly self-taught she couldn’t really sympathize. But then, she’d never had two coppers to rub together either. Her armour and weapons were scavenged from the garbage pits and fallen enemy.

“I smell fruit.” Ceekra declared as they came to the valley that lead to the site of the last great battle between Freeport and the Tunarean forces.

“Fruit?” Meena echoed quietly, confused. It was early spring, the fruit trees were barely blooming. She sniffed, but whatever the sensitive rat nose was smelling was beyond her. She scanned the hills for warm spots but saw nothing.

Ceekra shrugged but pulled her axes out just in case, one in each hand she continued down the pass. She could only see shadows and shades of grey, but she trusted her companion’s red eyes to spot life before it appeared. She’d been to the battlefield many times to scavange, but never this late; dawn or dusk was the safest time.

It wasn’t long before they were picking their way between the half buried bones and bodies. Meena apparently needed a whole hand, because she would peer at bits, or dig for a moment and sigh. The two meandered their way farther and farther from the safety of the city.

A flash of yellow and red was the only warning Meena got to hit the ground as an archer broke cover and fired arrows at them. Ceekra found her tail yanked and herself hauled down. “Yeeeerp!” she squeeled and got her ear cuffed.

She shot Meena a dirty look and rubbed her skull. “We lie here till we get hit?” she asked with only slight sarcasm.

“The grass gives heat as well, it will blur our forms.” She sneered, “Assuming that’s a leaf eater up there.”

“Who else fire in dark?” Ceekra asked with logic. Night blind humans, barbarians, gnomes.. maybe a Dwarf could, but they weren’t known for their great ability with regular bows, and it wasn’t a bolt sticking out of the ground a few feet from her head.

“Good point.” Meena muttered, nudging her opinion of Ceekra’s IQ up several points. “Can we get to that rock cluster?” she gestured off to their right, away from the archer.

“Don’t know.” Ceekra couldn’t even see the rocks, she could only trust the elf’s superior vision. “I go, you follow.” Ceekra scurried off at a surprising rate.

“Right!” Meena hissed and scrambled after her, realizing how poor the rat’s vision truly was. “Left a bit!”

Ceekra found the rocks with her head as she barely batted an arrow from hitting Meena in the rump. “Son of Cazic!” she cursed, her head was going to be very abused by the end of the night!

“What now?” Meena grumbled, pulling out a short staff from her pack and extending it out into a more formadible weapon.

“We fight.” Ceekra said standing in front of the elf, “You do finger wiggle?”

Meena didn’t look too confident “I need to see them all to get them all. Too much death and life here to get a proper grasp of them.”

Black was white, green was red, and blah blah blah, was what Ceekra understood of the answer. Wouldn’t ‘No’ have been easier? She guessed it was up to her, the mage couldn’t be much of a warrior, she wasn’t wearing any sort of armour.

Ceekra deflected several more arrows out of the air with the flats of her axe blades before the enemy gave up and started to approach. Ceekra wasn’t surprised to see the blonde hair, angry eyes and war paint of the Tunarean scouts. She’d never seen one before, but she’d heard plenty of stories from maimed kin.

She trilled and waved her axes. “Come and get it!” was the clear message. Meena had to *see* to kill, well, she’d get them all out already.

The light elves weren’t as stupid as she hoped, they fanned out and looked ready to take prisoners rather than just come in for a clean kill. Probably could care less about a Ratonga, but a Dark Elf would probably make a good prize, no matter how low in rank. Oh well, one axe and a point was better than two axes.

With surprising ease Ceekra reached back and flung one of her battle axes into the forehaed of the archer. He went down without a scream, just a sickening thud and a crumple. Well, sickening to the Tunareans, the two Freeportians guessed from the reactions, it was nothing new to citizens of the Overlord.

The elves rushed forward with their strange war cries and Ceekra ducked under a curved blade to take it on her backplate, while she bit one elf on the side of the leg and smashed the flat of her blade into the mid-section of another. The latter reacted predicatbly with a yelp and jumped back.

She could feel her fur standing up, a sure sign of Meena gathering mystical energies. Surely she was a death mage and there was certainly enough death energy in this place! Especially with one of the wood elves bleeding brain matter into the ground.

One of the elves said something in his slippery language and gestured towards where Meena was, two advanced on Ceekra while the gesturer tried to go around her to the mage. Not a chance, Ceekra wasn’t going to let her ticket to the city bite it, especially since she could smell more fruit out there. These four were probably only part of the force out there.

Ceekra launched onto the back of the sneaky elf and whirled his head around so he stumbled into the female tree elf, who cursed and managed not to stick him with her sword. Ceekra cackled and used the elf as a spring board to launch herself at the third elf who had turned to see what the scrambled and squeeking was all about.

The Freeportian warrior buried her remaining axe into the throat of the third elf and barely managed to yank it free as she tumbled past. Twirling around to face the two remaining elves she thought she may actually have a chance, right up until six more stepped out of the shadows. “Cazic in a dress!” she cursed in Ratongan.

But Meena’s spell had finished and she yelled something in Dark Elf that made the Light Elves turn to run. Hands thrust out, green mist rose from the ground and Ceekra decided it was now a good time to get close to the caster. Bits of bone, debris and luminous green rose from the ground and surrounded the elves, causing them to clutch at their throats and fall to the ground coughing as sores broke out over their skin.

Meena half-fell to her knees, clutching at a rock for support. Ceekra rushed out to grab her thrown axe, carved the dead elf and then headed back to the mage. Shoving axes in belt, booty in pack, she grabbed Meena and half-carried the elf away from the battlefields and back towards the safety of the city.

After stumbling through the darkness and shadows for as long as it took the moon to pass a constellation, Meena called a stop. She crumpled to the ground and held her head in her hands as if those dainty digits were all that were holding it together.

Cykreea crooned concern and fished through the elf’s pack. The warren shamans had bars and drinks for times like this, and while the elf’s smelled more like nuts and honey than half-spoiled meat, it was obviously for the same purpose. She pressed the bar into the elf’s hand while she tried to locate the beaker of drink. She finally decieded the fruity-alocohol was the drink after opening several wine skins. Meena drank a quarter of the skin without pause.

The mage fell backwards on the grass and panted. “Oh, Innurok, that’ hurt.” she panted. She then scowled, “And I still don’t have my hand!”

Ceekra grinned and pulled the bloody hand she hacked off the wood elf out of her pack. She danced it to wave a hello.

Meena laughed, “My hand, and a report of spies to gain prestige, my dear little Ceekra-warrior, I think this is the start of a BEAUTIFUL friendship!”

Was ‘Yum’ an appropriate thought when given first glance at your king? Probably not, but at least it was neither treasonous or truly disrespectful Sheyna of Kirolis decided as she stood in the line awaiting her sovereign’s attention. Her elder brother was busy with the thoughts in his own head and looking importantly bored. She was free to stare at the King Ronis.

Blond hair that seemed to be fading from lack of sun curled at his collar. His beard was neatly groomed, covering lower cheeks, chin and upper lip. His eyes, a dark brown not unlike her father’s had been, seemed tired and he seemed restless. His clothes were not as fancy as those of his courtier’s, soft leather that seemed to bridge between the ranger’s leathers he was said to wear in his younger years and previous to becoming heir and the soft silks that those who danced to his whims wore.

She felt sympathy for him, for the great circles under his eyes. Third born of the second wife of King Filors, Kirolis should never have seen the throne. He should have been left to leading the kingdom’s rangers and messengers. However, disease was an unkind foe and had taken his parents and elder brothers from him along with half the court and a quarter of the population. The fire fever had blazed through the populance before cause or cure could be found. It was the fever that had taken her own parents and left the fourth daughter of a sea roving family free to make her own choices when the brothers ruling their house didn’t know what to do with her.

“House Kirolis, Master Saris and Lady Sheyna.” The herald announced as the elderly couple ahead of them moved on. Apparently they’d been asking for an heir for their House to be chosen from the man’s off-branch. Paperwork and nonsense ran a kingdom, her mother had once observed with a free laugh.

“And what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Clan Searover?” The king asked, his voice melodious and seemed to carry without effort. Brown eyes seemed to study her carelessly after a brief glance at her brother.

They patrolled and watched the waters of the southern coast. While technically noble, they rarely came to court and even rarer still to play the politics of the kingdom. Their tanned skin and calloused hands from working the ships in their teen years made many of the elder families sneer at them, the southern clans, once pirates and sailors, sneered right back. Better to teach your children discipline and freedom of the sea than have them be wastrels thought the southern clans, while the northern thought any nobles who couldn’t afford to have others do their work for them weren’t true nobles at all.

Saris looked down at her with a pointedly raised eyebrow. She sighed. His opinion was definetly “Your problem, you want this, fine go after it.” He wouldn’t stand in her way, but he wasn’t about to help either. If he hadn’t had to come to the throne town with the tax records, she’d probably have been tossed on the back of a wagon with trade goods on her own.

“I am here to petition the king to join the watch.” Sheyna said, hoping her voice didn’t squeek. She knew it caried, she was more than able to bellow across a deck, but yelling at lazy sailors was a bit different than speaking to the leader of your realm, keeper of your life and safety.

The king straightened, looking somewhat more interested, “And why is that?”

Not exactly the interview she’d been expecting. She’d been dreaming halfway through his casual dismissal with fear and his casual acceptance with a waved gesture of bored hand for weeks. She knew she didn’t exactly look like the warrior type, small even amongst the short southerners, skin dark from sun and breeding, coarse black hair tied in a simple braid rather than elaborate maid created style. But she knew her strengths, she may be small, but she was quick in reaction and movement. She was strong enough to weild weapon and climb ropes and she had endurance of the seas. “Because too many of the watch assigned to the south borders do not understand us or our ways, Sire. I feel that while I can serve well even without the knowledge, I feel I can serve the kingdom better with my experiences of home and family.” A bit arrogant, perhaps, but her father had always said to move boldly.

That brought a hint of a smile to the king’s face. “Ah, of course. It’s not many of your kin and clan that wish to spend the time in the rain and misery to learn our ways to serve their kingdom.”

She felt he was making fun of her, but there was no real response you could make in a viper’s pit when you didn’t want to get bitten. “Yes Sire.” she felt was safe enough.

There seemed to almost be a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he waved over his herald. “Please see the Lady’s titles transferred and have her enrolled.”

And with that she was dismissed from his presence and freed from her brother who seemed more than happy to go find some pretty young maids to flirt with. He’d not marry any of them, but nothing prevented some sport before he went home.

A last glance over her shoulder as she followed the herald, an ancient example of humanity, and she could only wonder if the king had a younger cousin kicking around who had time to chase deer and climb trees.