Tristan Lidu's page

Amella was clearly surprised to see us waiting for her at the dock. There was a small crowd with us as well, many curious to see one of the heroes of Farshore, some wanted to see the riches from this far off land, but many more were potential investors eager to view the goods and determine if they should risk their capital in this venture. Lavinia had made many claims about the quality and quantity of the goods being transported back from Farshore, and much of the stock had already been sold sight unseen, but now we had investors lined up for a potential return trip and they weren’t simply going to take a lady’s word on the colony’s value.

“Ahoy Amella!” I said waving at her, “You’re a sight for sore eyes!”

I waited with Lavinia at the end of the gangplank for Amella to join us before wrapping my former captain in a big hug and kissing her on her cheeks.

“Not that I was worried or anything,” I said as I released her.

“How did you . . .” Amella started to ask the obvious question, but she knew I could teleport, but what she probably wanted to know was how I’d known when she was going to arrive. I couldn’t tell her that literally a little birdie told me?

Instead I held up my hands and wiggled my fingers, “Magic!” I said.

Being a black dagger has it’s advantages. The small little office was nice but the real treat was having access to the tower’s personal. There were initiates and even white daggers who were egger to please. Some wanted tutoring and having some divination spells cast in exchange seemed only fair. Some wanted recognition from their superiors. I’d set up a test for a couple of my eager new white daggers, a test that involved tracking a ship. I’d taught a kobold to cast magic, teaching others about the planes or magic now seemed like an easy exchange, and fieldwork and practical experience were the best instructors in my estimation. Field work had done wonders for my ability . . . if not my sanity.

“There will be time to explain all that,” Lavinia said, taking my hands and giving me that ‘not in public’ look, “I hope you’ll join us for supper. We’ve taken the liberty of getting you a room at the . . . em, at the Strumpet, and arranged for a bath and some clean cloths. Tristan and I want to hear everything about your return trip.”

“What’s with all these people?” Amella asked.

“Some are potential investors,” Lavinia said, “They want to see what we’ve transported here, but many are curious fans of Tristan’s short lived newspaper carrier. Anxious to see one of the heroes of Farshore.”

“I’m now a patron,” I reassured Amella, in case she too was worried about my tabloid reputation, “I should show you my school for foundlings!”

“Hero of Farshore?” Amella asked, facing Lavinia but her eyes still on me, “I didn’t do anything except get the women, children, and elderly to safety. I was out of the fighting.”

“Yes,” Lavinia said with a sigh, “but she did sort wax poetic over events prior to that, and I suspect that many of the people grew fond of Tristan’s portrayal of you. We are a seafaring people after all. You and James are quite popular at the moment. There has been talk in the dawn counsel about rewarding you with a Spiral of Sasserine for your selfless and heroic acts.”

Amella blinked, clearly unsure of how to process that information. She turned from Lavinia to me and back again.

“We’re planning a return trip,” I said, “With maybe three or four ships, depending on how many investors we snag, and I think you should be admiral of that fleet.”

“Didn’t we agree,” Lavinia said with that lovely hint of anger in her voice, “That that was something we were going to talk about over dinner?”

“Yes,” I said with my favourite smile, “But we didn’t say we weren’t going to talk about it now.”

Amella put her hands on our shoulders and smiled at us, “It is good to see you two again,” she said, “Supper sounds lovely. Business sounds good. I can’t wait to get caught up. I would love to see these articles. Maybe later you can show me your school Tristan. But right now I have a ship to unload, would you two lovely ladies mind moving your pretty little posteriors away from the front of my gangplank, please?”

“See,” I said to Amella as Lavinia dragged me away, “Manners! These are the skills a merchant admiral needs.”

. . .

I sat up in bed. I’d thought that Lavinia would have woken me by now but it’s just as likely she got caught up in her work. Farshore was soon to get very large indeed. Amella wouldn’t be starting the return trip for a few weeks yet, but already there were four ships full of supplies and settlers for her to manage. Lavinia needed to figure out where to put them all. Farshore would soon have sixty percent more people as it had before, and with the omans, mongrel folk, and phanatons running about the population would soon more then double.

I looked down at my hands. Each bore a scar now. I was glad that Lavinia hadn’t been upset about that, with how I got those scars, but she seemed to get upset about other things these days. Not so much mad at me, but she often seemed upset with how I acted in public now. Like me not using my ‘indoor’ voice when we were outside. It was very confusing. She and Worrin had conspired against me and now when we met with others I felt my great uncle’s disapproval through her eyes. Usually she got upset when I tried talking with people, like my speech for the foundling school, she’d gone to great lengths to make sure I had a proper speech written out for me, but then when it came for me to read it I got hung up on the words “it’s true, I‘ve had more advantages then you”. For some reason I couldn’t get past that and I kept repeating it. Then I went off script. Lavinia kept saying she wasn’t mad but I thought she was. She had put a lot of work into that speech and I’d mucked it up. The consolation was that the young women liked it. I’d apparently gone into rhyme.

I was still able to please her in other ways though. I glanced over to where my shift had landed, Lavinia and I were still very much able to connect physically, but I wished that I could be more use to her socially. There was a glorious window between when I first started working for Lavinia and before I came to this cursed island when I’d come out of my shell and I found talking easy. I might even have considered myself charming. Those days were gone though. She often consulted my expertise when it came to city planning, she loved picking my brain about history and dozens of other things, and we loved to talk. I could talk to her easily. I didn’t always make sense, I sometimes unknowingly switched between languages, but she never tried to hush me when we were in private.

I’d also drawn plans for several buildings for Farshore, land inside the walls was at a premium and expansion was necessary. We’d even broken ground on a couple of projects already. I entrusted someone else to act as foreman. People were cautious around me these days, not quite nervous, but certainly not friendly. I agreed with Lavinia that the more public exposure I had the more cautious people became. Best if people thought of me as the benevolent power behind the throne. I’d Let other members of the Swords of Sasserine handle negotiations from now on. I didn’t have any problems getting my mind across to them for some reason.

The sun was up so I decided to get up and get dressed. Steps Lavinia had stressed, I needed to move forward in steps. Break everything down into steps. My morning routine was now broken down into five steps: Step one, get up and get dressed, step two, get some breakfast, step three, find out if Lavinia needed me to do anything for her (I’d added this step myself), step four, check my notes and lists, and step five, make plans for the day. Easy. Washing up was part of step one I was sure. I wasn’t so far gone that I couldn’t delegate mundane tasks.

‘She worries about you,’ Hop-Toy said, peering out from the second washbasin Lavinia had added to the room, ‘And you have been relying on her more and more.’

“I need to get back to tracking down these black pearls,” I said, “That’s the business I’m best at. Not this socialization with mortal creatures.”

‘You’re still mortal yourself you know,’ Hop-Toy reminded me, ‘You’ve not made physical transcendence yet. This alignment with this outer realm hasn’t occurred yet, never mind the metamorphose that this Chimpman has proposed . . .’

“But my mind, nor my senses, are completely in tune with this world,” I said, “I find it harder and harder to function on their level . . .”

“As well you shouldn’t,” the thing in my haversack said. Lavinia could stand to look at it, and I honestly didn’t want it out while she was around anyways, and so in the sack it stayed, “This world is too four dimensional, who cares about the people of this world and their sad little perceptions? Already you mind has expanded beyond these confides . . .”

“First off,” I said, “I care. I care about this world, about my friends, about my lover, and I care about my goddess. All are part of this world. If I physically change that part of me won’t. That part of me will always remain the same.”

“If you say so,” the severed head said, “but you may find it’s like caring for bugs. Not that I doubt you’ll try, but they won’t understand you and they’ll be so squishy . . .”

I ignored the ape head. I focused on the task at hand. Step one: get dressed. I washed my face and hand, brushed my hair and my teeth. Then I put on some cloths. I walked downstairs to visit the dinning room. Sometimes Lavinia’s staff had breakfast already made for me when I came downstairs. Inside the dining room I saw fresh fruit, pealed and cut, sitting on a plate for me.

“Tristan,” Kiki said jogging up behind me, “Lavinia wants to see us! I think we’re finally gonna get some work for a change. This sitting around Farshore is driving me nuts!”

“But . . .” I glanced at the fruit, step two: eat breakfast, “I need breakfast . . .”

“Take it with you,” Kiki helpfully suggested, “I don’t think Lavinia would mind.”

“Yes,” I said nodding, I could eat and see if Lavinia had any plans for me, two steps in one, “That will do nicely. It’s all falling into place.”

In Lavinia’s office we discovered the Oman native we’d rescued from the troglodytes many, many weeks ago. Truth was I’d forgotten about him. He was accompanied by the village priest Vesserin. We reconnected. It seems he was on a mission to deliver a message from the elusive Noltus Innersol. I vaguely remembered him telling us that before in the caves, but what I didn’t know was there was an actual letter, and when we’d met him he hadn’t had the letter in his possession. That explained why he decided not to take our offer of taking him with us when we returned to Farshore. He told us his tale and I translated, Fredrick seemed to roll his eyes at my word choice, but Oman into common wasn’t a precise science, and every translator would add his or her inflection onto the work. Their just wasn’t a word for warrior’s wisdom for example, it might be translated thusly, or even as man’s wisdom as males were the warriors in the Oman culture.

The native, his name was Jakara, handed the scroll tube to Vesserin who opened it, read the contents, and then handed the letter over to us. I scanned the letter carefully. It seems Noltus Innersol was exploring the central plateau! I’ve long had some speculation as to what resided there, what had created these skin walkers, and what remained of the ancient Oman city that existed atop the great plateau at one time, but these were not things that I wished to explore on my own. Even if I knew I had Wee Jas’ favour, faith alone wouldn’t protect me from the evils that probably lurked above. Noltus hadn’t been heard from in months. I had little doubt that he was dead.

Vesserin excused himself shortly after reading the note, saying that he had something of Noltus’ back at the temple, and while we were discussing the note he returned with a small stone disk.

“This is partly to blame for Noltus’ journey to the central plateau I fear,” he said as he handed us the object, “Noltus discovered that quite early in his journeys and I fear he might have become obsessed with it.”

“What’s so special about it?” Kale asked without looking at the abject. Kiki and I immediately noted the irregular pattern on the outer ring of the object, while Buffy traced her finger over the central characters.

“Wait,” she said, as if suddenly realizing something, “That’s Tezcatlipoca, Tonatiuh, and Quetzalcoatl! And they’re working together!”

“Okay . . .” Kale said, “Let’s pretend for a moment that some of us don’t know who those people are.”

“They’re gods actually,” Buffy said, “Tezcatlipoca is a moon god, Tonatiuh is a sun god, and Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl hate each other. They all do, sort of. The fact that they’re working together is really odd.”

“Noltus believed that this disk came from Thanaclan,” Vesserin said, “And although I’m sure he has alternative reasons for being up there, I fear it might be the mystery of the disk that has him moving towards that ancient city.”

“What can you tell us about the bow?” Kiki asked, pointing towards the central image in the disk.

“Nothing I’m afraid,” Vesserin said, “But all three gods seem to be working together to build it don’t they? That’s the heart of the mystery. Noltus was very curious about this bow as well. When you find him could you give this disk to him for me? I’m sure he’d want it back.”

James of course jumped at the opportunity to aide Noltus Innersol. James wasn’t religious that I knew, and if he was I doubted that he worshiped Pelor, but sometime ago James had decided that these skin walkers must be stopped and he saw this expedition as a chance to bring this goal to fruition. I too was interested in dealing with these skin walkers. I suspected that they were demonic in nature and the chances that two demonic scourges afflicted this cursed island were slim to none. What was behind the skin walker’s evil was one of the mysteries that I very much wanted to answer. Lavinia also suspected that there was another piece to the pearl manufacturing process that we were missing and that these skin walkers were somehow involved. I couldn’t argue with her. While it was possible that the pearls were somehow manufactured entirely underground in the black bile there was still the mater of the human slaves the lords of dread were collecting. We’d found no bones or human remains below, and while we didn’t exactly search the area as thoroughly as we could have, I suspect that if human sacrifice were part of the manufacturing process, and I had a very strong suspicion that it was, that the koprus would have left some trace of the ill fated humans behind. The slaves had been taken elsewhere.

Traveling to the central plateau wasn’t a hard sell for the remaining members of the Swords of Sasserine. Buffy very much wanted to meet Noltus, he had been an instructor when she had graduated from seminary school in Sasserine, Kale was interested in vanquishing evil, Kiki just wanted some action, and Fredrick . . . Fredrick had started to become a bit of a magpie, the man wanted to take anything shinny, and I suspected that this ancient Oman city might still have it’s share of shinnies in it.

After our meeting I checked my notes. Step four: check my notes and lists. I had nothing pressing. Paperwork at the tower. Research Fredrick’s tooth. Track Scarlet Brotherhood activities. Find a ghost writer. Do some readings at the foundling school. Any one of those tasks could be moved to another day. Thanoclan and the central plateau were more important. I moved on to step five: make plans for the day.

. . .

“I think it’s likely that Noltus is dead,” I said, after we’d all crowded into the secure shelter.

Buffy gasped.

“Well I could think of a likely scenario where he might still alive,” I said trying to reassure Buffy, but I thought it best not to tell her that the scenario involved torture, questioning, and perhaps forced conversion, “But dead is probably better to plan for. Anyways I think it likely that these skin walkers are shape shifters. Possibly capable of taking on human guise. From now on we always travel in groups of two or more. We don’t investigate anything unless the others know where we’re going. We should also think up a code word.”

“What about ‘I am not a shapeshifter’” James suggested.

“What about ‘look out behind you!’” Fredrick suggested.

“What about people chip in so I can afford to buy a spell to create a bigger shelter?” I asked, shifting focus quickly, “That way I don’t have to deal with your stupid faces every minute of every day?”

“We were just kidding around Tristan,” James said, trying to look apologetic.

“I’d think if they were shape shifters that snake thing would have told us in the cat village,” Fredrick said, with a shrug.

“I think what Jakara described was kind of horrific,” Kale said, “but if they were shape shifters he would have said something.”

“I’m serious about the magic,” I said, “This shelter was fine when we were limping back from the crash site, we were desperate then, and was fine when we were underground, those blue flicking blue shadows made details impossible to pick out, but now we’re out in the open. I’m feeling very exposed in this shelter, you saw how easily that damn dirty ape dispelled it, well once we get to the plateau this house might be visible from miles away.”

“Well you’re the spell caster,” James had the gall to say, “Why don’t you just learn a new spell?”

“Because learning new spells costs money!” I snapped, “And why should I bare the burden of buying a new spell that essentially for all of us?”

“How much would a new spell cost?” Kale asked.

“The one I want costs two thousand, two hundred, and seventy five gold,” I said.

James made some chocking sounds.

“For that price I could almost get . . .” he started but I cut him off.

“Magic isn’t cheep,” I simply said.

“But . . .”

“It’s cheaper if the price is split eight ways,” Kiki said, “Not that Churtle or Orlani need to pay a full share. We could take it out of party funds though. Consider it a group expenditure? Next time we settle up the treasure we all take a little less?”

“Fine,” James sighed.

“So let’s settle up tonight then,” I said, “I can get to Sasserine tomorrow and have the spell scribed into my spell book by the time we reach this central plateau.”

. . .

After days of searching through this damn jungle we’ve given up on finding a path up. Early on I spotted a massive causeway that the ancient Omans had once built, but it had partially collapsed, and the gaps that remained were hundreds of feet wide. I reasoned that Noltus had gotten up there somehow and he had a dog and likely some lizard folk in tow, there had to be a path up, but sadly my team of intrepid adventures would get lost in the tall grass outside of Farshore. I’ll admit that I’m no ranger myself, but I didn’t want to come to this accursed island, plus I could fly and teleport! You’d think my compatriots might bother to learn the skills necessary to survive in their chosen environment.

Eventually we decided to dig into our potion supply and use the potions of fly that we’d taken off of the koprus under the island. We found an almost sheer cliff face and I did some quick mathematical calculations based on the estimated height of the cliff and the maximum climbing speed, and duration of the potions, I deemed the journey safe, as long as my friends didn’t dawdle, take the more scenic route, or take time to do some barrel rolls. Everyone drank their potions and flew for the top. I lagged a bit behind the others because my magical flight was a bit slower then theirs but soon we were all united at the top. Apparently my estimations were spot on. One drop less of magical flight and my companions would have plummeted to their dooms.

“Behold my new spell!” I said as I summoned Mordenkainen Magnificent Mansion. The air in front of us shimmered.

“So that’s it then?” James asked.

“Yes,” I said, trying to keep the pride out of my voice, “It lives up to its name. Magnificent isn’t it?”

“It certainly is something,” he said.

“Shall we go inside?” I asked, I was curious to see if the spell worked as I’d imagined it would, “The door should be open.”

“Um . . .” James said looking to Orlani, “Do you see anything?”

I’d forgotten that my group were susceptible to illusions, James particularly, and so I stepped forward and opened the door for them. Inside was a marvel of magic: I’d chosen a pallet of grey, deep green, crimson, and silver, if gave the room a nice comfortable earthy tone. The walls were lined with glyphs and hieroglyphics depicting our battles. There wasn’t a straight line in the entire structure. The Walls curved, the floor was concave, the ceiling budged, and the arms and legs of the tables and chairs resembled curving vines or tentacles. The place was lit with burning skulls (in honour of Wee Jas) but a few of the skulls burned with a green flame in honour of the Green Lady. At one end of the hall I had a stylized depiction of the Goddess Wee Jas on the other I had dread Cthulhu. I’d cleverly used the elder god’s tentacles to tie the room together, they extended from his mouth and formed the stairs and railings, and they also wrapped completely about the main room and eventually became part of Wee Jas’ hair.

“It’s . . .” James gasped, clearly at a loss for words.

“It’s a horror,” Kale mumbled.

“Yes,” I said with my smile, “It is. And it’s a wonder. If you need food all you need to do is ask and it shall be provided by invisible servants, we each have our own rooms as well, except for James and Orlani of course, because I assumed that they’d want to share. These rooms remain pleasant and dry no matter the weather outside, and as you discovered, the entrance is all but invisible. The best part is that despite the size of the place I can create this shelter anywhere. We are effectively in a pocket dimension at the moment. Our chances of being discovered in this shelter are slim to none. Now why don’t we all find our rooms and get a little shut eye.”

I went to my room where Lavinia’s face and form was written into the ceiling above my bed. I had four of my seven steps completed. I quickly moved to finish my evening routine. I consulted my notes from the morning. Step five. Some things I could cross off now. We’d reached the top of the plateau. I carefully underlined the note to locate lizard folk camp. They were all likely dead but perhaps I could find some clues left by Noltus in the camp. I then moved onto step six, update my journal. These steps make things easier I think. Lavinia always seems to know what’s best for me. I liked being able to stare up at her as I closed my eyes for the night.

Unto step seven,
Cthulhu dreams

I’d chosen white for the ceremony. Lavinia clearly didn’t like my choice, it made me look young and innocent, but I’d chosen the colour for a reason. I knew the ceremony by heart, I felt as though part of me even knew the ritual behind the ceremony as well, but blood sacrifices hadn’t been called for in thousands of years. I’d also had two sashes made for the occasion to hold the dagger (or daggers) of office if and when they were awarded to me. I put the pure white one on first and packed the other away for later.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Kale’s brother had done a remarkable job. The loose blouse and pantaloons, the traditional suloise garb, fit me perfectly. And while my cloths looked quite plain from a distance there had been quite a bit of fine needle work that had gone into the costume when you got close. Clearly he didn’t have his brother’s impediments, I mean Kale was talented enough when he swung a sword, but when it came to sewing or needlework the man was all thumbs. Silverthumb indeed.

Lavinia filled out her dress nicely, she wore blue as usual, but with the recent victories in Farshore and with the recovery of her family fortunes, she was now able to wear far more jewellery then she had in the past. She looked opulent. I thought she looked better without, it allowed her inner strength to shine through, but here she’d dressed to impress. Tonight she’d be in the presence of the Dawn Counsel. Once again I felt like a tramp or a runny nosed child standing next to her, but this time at least I had the confidence knowing that the woman before me was somehow in love with the scamp before her, and that somehow made me special.

“How lovely you look Lavinia Vanderboren,” I said.

“How quaint you look Tristan Lidu,” she said, “You should have worn your grey silk.”

“I shall in the future Lady Vanderboren,” I said with a full curtsy, “But tonight isn’t about me. Tonight is about honour and tradition. I shall be humble before the Witchwardens, I will bow before the Dawn Counsel, and I shall give myself over to the Ruby Sorcerer. Tomorrow I will emerge from the cathedral as myself again, and I shall wear what I like, but tonight . . . tonight Lady Vanderboren I give myself to my city and to my god.”

Lavinia nodded and took my arm and we walked downstairs to where our friends had gathered. Despite the fear of what was to come I felt I was also looking forward to this ceremony. My graduation from the House of the Dragon had been a blur. I’d spent the previous day and night, as per Lidu tradition, fasting and praying so when the actual graduation came along I had been left with only a vague impression. This would be different. I’d still spend the night in prayer, but only afterwards, and my mind would be crisp and sharp for the ceremony.

Sadly not everyone could come. Only members of the Dawn Counsel and their special guests were given special exceptions to attend, many of the counsel members had family that were members of the witchwardens after all, but the general public was turned away. Most probably weren’t even aware of this ancient ceremony existed. And the ceremony was ancient. The first witchwardens were appointed by Teraknian himself to guard the body of his Lady Sasserine. Lady Sasserine was a priestess of Wee Jas. Our traditions and customs were only naturally fuelled by the church. When Lady Sasserine was finally laid to rest beneath the Spire of Sasserine our duties expanded to protecting the entire city that bore the lady’s name.

The ban meant that only Lavinia and Fredrick could attend because of their Dawn Counsel memberships, Kale would attend as Lavinia’s guest, and Kiki would attend as Fred’s. The others came to see us off, to wish me luck, and likely to start working on the surprise party they’d planed for me tomorrow night. They’d done their best to keep it under wraps but Hop-Toy had overheard Lavinia, Churtle, and Kiki talking privately about it in Lavinia’s garden (Hop-Toy liked to hunt slugs while I worked on my diary). While I imagined that the last thing I wanted to do after being up for 24 hours was have a party, I promised myself I’d act pleased and surprised when it happened.

I teleported us to Sasserine and we parted ways at the tower. The underground ceremony wouldn’t start for another two hours or so but I needed to be in the tower well in advance. My companions weren’t members of the witchwardens and weren’t normally allowed in, and I wasn’t high enough rank to invite them, but we’d see each other soon enough beneath the city. The dawn counsel had their own entrance to the sea caves.

There was a private ceremony of course. Nothing special, the initiates that were to be raised were publicly announced, and then we were separated from the fold by an honour guard of white daggers. We were brought before Lux swore loyalty to the witchwardens and the city of Sasserine. Then we were taken to another room where we waited. And waited. There would be a lot of that. Outside I imagined that my friends would get something to eat at a local restaurant or perhaps have a drink at a local bar. The city would be starting to come alive at this time of night.

I looked at my fellow initiates, there were five of us, all human, and only one other wore a holy symbol of Wee Jas. They were all older then me of course, some were in their late twenties, but one man looked almost double my age. Most had worn their best cloths for this occasion. Our eldest initiate was clearly from the merchant’s district and he wore a fine mesh belt with a chain already hanging loose to accept his dagger. Another male initiate, with his fine woven leather belt, was clearly from the Azure district. I felt very plain in my white garb. Even my fellow Jasidin wore more ornate cloths then me, choosing a proper dress rather then traditional suloise garb. The other female initiate looked like she was dressed for a ball. Perhaps she was. There were often parties for newly minted white and black daggers throughout the city.

There wasn’t any small talk. All these people had graduated ahead of me and I didn’t really know them well enough to talk to them. I thought I knew the one other Jasidin, I’d seen her around the cathedral, and I thought I remembered her being a senior when I first arrived at the House of the Dragon. But that was a long time ago. That was ten years ago I suddenly realized. I’d vaguely known her for ten years and we’d never spoke. I wasn’t about to start talking with her now though, I didn’t want any distractions. I took the time to repeat my part of the ceremony over and over in my head. This was something I wanted absolutely correct.

Eventually Annah arrived. Her role in the ceremony was purely symbolic these days, nobody would be required to kneel and kiss her ring for example, but she would still be on the stage with us. Annah would act as a proxy for the Lady Sasserine. Afterwards she would also lead those who were willing back to the cathedral for the night of prayers. Now that these things were optional I’ve heard that even some of the newly raised followers of Wee Jas didn’t bother to participate. I would be attending, of course, but I wondered if my fellow Jasidin initiate would?

“Hello young Tristan Lidu,” Annah said looking down at me, she held out her ring in front of me, “I trust you are prepared for this ceremony.”

“As best as I could be High Magnus,” I said kissing her ring. She held it just far enough away from me so that I couldn’t remain sitting and I’d need to kneel to reach it. This was no mistake. She was testing me again. There was no pretending or acting on my part, I didn’t hesitate, I had immediately dropped to my knees, and I was meek as a kitten around her. When I finally looked up at her I found her smiling.

“Rise young Lidu,” she said, “Let me see your sash.”

Annah pretended to adjust my sash but I knew what she was really doing. She ran her hand under my sash and up under my blouse to feel for that nasty needle belt. There was no danger to her, the barbs only faced one way, and under my cloths the nasty thing was practically invisible. It was designed for a private penance. Neither of us could afford the nature of my sins made public. When she felt it she nodded. She applied a small amount of pressure to watch me wince but then quickly readjusted my sash to her liking.

“You’d better sit now,” Annah said, “We have a long night ahead of us and you’ll need your strength.”

I sat back onto the bench and watched as Annah made her way along the other initiates, quickly blessing them, till she got to my fellow follower of Wee Jas. Annah held her ring out to her, but this time close enough so that my fellow initiate could kiss it from her seated position. I was a favourite of the priestess it seemed.

Annah left us to prepare for the ceremony. We sat in silence again. There was some chatter amongst our ‘guard’ of white daggers, but they talked too softly for me to hear. Still none of us felt like talking. There was a giddy sort of energy in the air. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we were stood and led down the twisty passage deep beneath the tower. Every so often the passage would open up to dark caves, and I could smell the salt air drifting in from somewhere. As we got closer to our destination I could hear parts of the ceremony echoing up from somewhere almost directly below us. Then we found ourselves in a worked stone room. The walls were ancient, ornately carved, and there was some sign of battle here and there. Our ancient enemy, the scarlet brotherhood, had tried to breach these caves once.

Again we sat in silence. I could hear the ceremony in the great cave if I strained my ears. There would be retelling of past battles, ancient glories, and music. There were great bards amongst the witchwardens after all, and the caves had an incredible acoustics to them that was rivalled only by the great opera house, and so no ceremony was complete without giving our lyricists chance to ply their trade. Finally I heard what we’d been waiting for, from somewhere far away came the call:

“Bring forth the initiates!” This call was echoed by someone closer, then by another just outside our door, and our honour guard stepped forward and seized us. Two men pulled me to my feet, and took my arms quite firmly, it was all tradition and I suppose all in good fun, but I felt the shadow of that ancient suloise ritual. This ceremony was based upon heavily upon that. I suppressed a shudder as our guard ‘escorted’ us that final leg towards the ceremony.

I was first into the ceremony hall as we were mock dragged into that great chamber. The hymn to lady Sasserine’s was played, a favourite of mine, and the witchwardens in the lower bowl stood at attention. I felt my fellow initiates behind me giving the symbolic resistance, pretending to struggle for the gathered white and black daggers as well as for the crowd of counsel members in the balcony high above us. I sensed disappointment in my own two white daggers that I wasn’t doing the same. Everyone liked a little bit of fun, but I had long decided that if this were indeed a true blood sacrifice, that I’d have gone willing to my fate, and so I saw no reason pretending to fight knowing that I wasn’t. I would have given my life willingly to Wee Jas.

My eyes scanned the crowd, I found Lavinia and Kiki almost immediately, they had found seats close to the edge and Kiki stood on her seat waving at me. I wished for a moment that I could wave back. On the other side I spotted my family dressed in our family colours. Great uncle Worrin was flanked by his wife and last living brother. Worrin’s sons, his daughter, and many of his nieces, nephews and grandchildren sat around him as well. I was glad to see him but I knew I’d have another confrontation with him before the night was out. My heart jumped for joy when I spotted my sisters. They weren’t Dawn Counsel members and someone had pulled some strings to get them in, but then my heart jumped into my throat when I spotted my mother seated behind them. Her face was as blank and as unmoving as ever. Our eyes met ever so briefly and I quickly looked away.

As the hymn ended we found ourselves forced to our knees in front of the altar. The head of the Witchwardens, Lux Seoni, took on the role as priestess in this new ceremony. Annah sat far behind in the traditional high priestess chair, the great symbols of Wee Jas left little doubt for whom the chair had been designed for, but the High Magnus no longer took part. The few black daggers that had attended flanked the stage. The raising of an initiate was tower business and they stood as the tower’s commanders and ruling elite.

“Who is this that comes before me?!” Lux called out to us, her powerful voice echoing from every corner.

“Your humble servants and followers oh great mistress,” my fellow initiates and I said in unison.

“And what is it that you want?!” Lux demanded.

“That we be allowed to serve,” we said in unison again, “That you entrust us to do whatever you wish of us for the tower and for the city of Sasserine.”

“And what do you have to offer?!” Lux demanded again.

“All we have ever had to offer,” We all said, “Our life and our blood, which is given freely, and of our own volition.”

“And this is all that can be asked of any of us,” Lux said looking to her gathered witchwardens, “I see before me five initiates, some fresh faced, some battle tested, but all have proven themselves to this tower and to our great city. My fellow witchwardens, you have put forward these initiates forward for advancement, is there anyone here today that objects to any of these choices? Does anyone see fault with me making any one of these five full members of our order?”

The silence that followed was glorious.

“Very well,” Lux finally said, “Your silence shows your consent.”

Lux stepped behind the altar and pulled back a cloth to reveal five white hilted daggers. Each held the seal of the witchwardens carved into the butt of the handle. They were our badges of office. I was awash with emotions. Getting my white dagger was huge. Most wouldn’t get them until they’d served the tower for a decade or more, for many it would be a crowning achievement on their careers, but I didn’t see a black dagger on that alter anywhere, and part of me couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Perhaps Lux rightfully felt that I was achieving too much too soon.

Lux began awarding daggers at the opposite end. This was a small mercy. I began rehearsing my words and steeling myself for what was to come. I gripped my hands together in prayer so tightly that my fingers went white.

Lux demanded the oath from each of us before she would allow us to stand and take our dagger. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the initiate from the merchant’s district stood and took his dagger. He immediately fastened it too his belt. The initiate in the fancy dress actually held her dagger aloft and turned to the crowd. There were cheers from somewhere. I did my best to ignore this bastardization of this ancient ceremony. Both Lux and Annah also hid their distain rather well I thought. Then came my fellow Jasidin turn, I watched carefully, here was a slight deviation in the ceremony, or rather a throwback to when it was purely a Jasidin ceremony. Rather then offer a sheathed dagger, Lux drew the dagger, and pointed it blade first to the initiate. The woman carefully extended her hand and pricked her thumb on the blade.

‘Blood,’ I thought, ‘it was life, it was death.’ The ceremony demanded blood. I suddenly wondered if Lavinia knew that? I hadn’t thought to tell her. I wouldn’t risk my grey silk dress with blood but with this white uniform, made especially for this ceremony, every drop of my blood would be seen clear as day even from the back of the balcony. I wouldn’t shy away from this, my goddess demanded it, and I planned to revel in the macabre nature of the ceremony. I turned my head to focus on the ground in front of me. I recited the words over and over again in my head. Then I saw Lux’s hard leather boots in front of me.

“What is your name Initiate?” Lux asked.

“Tristan Lidu,” I said as loudly as I dared, “Eldest daughter of Walkeen Lidu and Mab Maros, great grand niece of Worrin Lidu.”

“Do you, Tristan Lidu, pledge allegiance to Sasserine and the witchwardens?”

“I forever pledge allegiance to Sasserine and the witchwardens.”

“Do you swear to uphold the law and defend Sasserine from her enemies, be they at home or abroad?”

“I do swear to uphold the law and defend Sasserine and her colonies from her enemies, be they at home or abroad.”

“Would you, Tristan Lidu, give your life, or spill your blood, if called, for the city of Sasserine?”

Here Lux drew the dagger and held the blade out to me.

“Yes,” I said as reached for the blade with my right hand. I placed the fleshy part of my hand just below my fingers on the blade next to the hilt; then, to the collective gasps from the audience, I ran my hand across the razor sharp blade till I reached the tip. Then I looked up to meet Lux Seoni’s eyes, and I ran my hand back up to the hilt and gripped the blade as tightly as I could.

“Gladly,” I called.

Lux met my eyes. The pain was terrible, I did have a high pain threshold, but this was something different. I forced the pain from my mind. I felt the blood well up between my fingers. I heard it drip and splatter onto the floor. I felt the heat as it flowed down my arm. Finally Lux nodded and I released the blade.

“Rise Tristan Lidu,” she said, and I quickly did as I was told. Lux wiped my blade clean on my white sash and returned the white dagger to its sheath before finally tucking it into my sash, “Newly appointed white dagger of Witchwarden Tower.”

There was a thunderous round of applause for all the newly appointed white daggers and our former guards moved forward to accept us as equals and members of their order. I embraced them with my left hand as I pressed my right against my heart as I looked to Annah. She nodded her approval. Then I gripped my blouse as it now would act as a crude bandage until I could get a proper one. I’d get no healing for my wounds till the morning, the pain would be part of my reflection and prayer, but I’d completed the ritual knowing this.

The white daggers began to usher us towards the lower bowl were we would sit with our fellow witchwarderns for the final hymn and the singing of the city’s anthem. I watched as my fellow white and black daggers climbed off the stage, part of me wanted to joint that fold, to finally feel a part of something larger then myself, but as my side of the stage finally approached the stair Lux stopped me:

“Hold a moment Tristan,” she said. My confused guards and remaining black daggers climbed down the stair leaving just me, Lux, and Annah alone on the stage. It suddenly occurred to me that we now represented the maid, the mother, and the crone.

Lux seemed to wait till everyone was aware that there was something more going on before she gave the cloth another little fold. There, at the back of the altar, lay a single black dagger. It was an amazing image. I felt dizzy. It was a contrast of black on white; much like red on white. I felt the room go silent.

“As commander of the Witchwardens,” Lux said to a hushed crowd, “I may choose who best exemplifies and upholds our ideals. Promotion is always earned and usually those advancements are paid with by blood. More then one of our order has had their black dagger awarded to them at their funeral. Tristan Lidu, I have followed your career and I deem you ready for advancement. Many have heard of your achievements but allow me to briefly regal the audience: You uncovered the murderous plotting of the Lotus Dragons, disrupted the smuggling operations at Krakken Cove, defeated bullywugs invaders in our city and rescued a member of the Dawn Counsel in the process, you reported the destruction of Fort Greenrock, made allies of the native Oman and Phanaton people, and you faced and helped defeat one of Sasserine’s greatest foes: the Crimson Fleet. You have repeatedly shared your knowledge and findings with the tower. You have gifted this institution with your spells and magical research. You have increased our armoury with magical items from your own personal stockpile. Some would say you’re too young to wear this dagger, too inexperienced, that you’re too rash, too bold at times, but I say if we can overlook your accomplishments, and pass you over till you fit our expectations of what a black dagger should be, how could we dare hope that anyone fallowing in your wake could dare to be so bold? If we can’t promote someone so young and accomplished because she’s so young and accomplished then who among us truly deserves this black dagger?”

Lux Seoni looked to the crowd, almost daring them to speak, and the people seemed to stare back in shock. There was near silence.

“Tristan Lidu,” Lux Seoni shouted, “Come forth and kneel before me!”

Lux pointed to the centre of the stage and I follow her commands, almost cracking my knees as I dropped hard on the ground. Lux picked up the dagger and held it high so everyone could see. Then she drew the blade before approaching.

“Tristan Lidu,” Lux said, “You have proved your strength and loyalty to the city of Sasserine time and time again over the course of your young career. You have done what we expect of our white daggers and more. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty. I offer to you a black dagger, our highest honour, and our most respected position. Should you accept you will take on a role of leadership in the tower, initiates and white daggers alike will look to you for guidance, and their will be no anonymity, no retirement, you will forever be marked by the tower and shoulder it’s responsibilities. Do you accept this dagger?”

Lux then held the blade out to me. My right hand hurt something fierce. I didn’t think I’d be able to take the blade with that hand again. I knew I wasn’t the first black dagger to have been raised from an initiate in one night, but I was certainly the first since the mad Teraknian and the Sea Princes rule. I’d known about the blood ritual, and cutting one’s sword hand to make an oath, but I wasn’t sure about the procedure for making two such oaths. I’d tried to research this fact in the witchwarden library on the off chance that I was given the honour, but with limited access (due to my initiate status), and with the volume I sought missing at the time I was allowed entrance to the library, I was unable to find an answer.

“I humbly ask that Wee Jas give me strength and guidance as I set out on this momentous task,” I said looking at the blade, “that she temper me in her holy flame, that she lends me the strength of my elders and ancestors to do what is right, and that she not take me in death until my task is done. Praise be to the stern lady for giving me adversity to test my sprit, to prove my worth, and to show me strong enough to walk her path. Blessings be on the Ruby Sorcerer, for giving me this task, it is through this trial that I shall prove my love to her. Peace and love to the Witch Goddess, may she give me wisdom and might to walk this path, and may she use me, her most humble servant, to strike down her enemies with her righteous holy fire! And should I die, may Death’s Consort take me quietly and gently in my sleep, or suddenly in battle with the taste of my enemies in my mouth, and I ask that she always take me before I feel the shame of failure.”

I recited the ancient sacred prayer verbatim, or at least I thought I had, but when I looked up at Lux she had a curious look in her eye. I glanced over at Annah to find she was sitting up straight, looking straight at me. It slowly dawned on me that I hadn’t spoken the prayer in common at all, but rather in ancient Suloise. I wondered if I’d blundered. I knew the translation had been perfect but I hadn’t practiced speaking the original text at all.

“I humbly accept,” I said, instinctively grabbing the blade with my left hand. The pain seemed if anything far worse this time. I was glad for the collective gasp from the audience as I ran my hand down the blade as it covered my sob of pain. By the time my hand made that gruesome trip down the blade and back again it was shaking so badly that I could scarcely grip the blade.

“If you you’ll have me,” I managed to finish. My voice cracked and I was amazed that I didn’t punctuate my sentence with tears. Again my eyes met Lux’s eyes and we stared for a while. The blood was flowing from my left hand much faster then it had from my right. I couldn’t close my hand tight enough because of the pain, and blood was dripping everywhere.

Finally Lux nodded, “Rise Tristan Lidu,” she said, “Black dagger of witchwardens.”

I stood and again Lux cleaned off my dagger on my sash, returned the blade its sheath, and tucked the dagger into my sash. Behind me there was light applause, people didn’t know what they were seeing and they weren’t entirely sure if they approved, but then I heard noise from Lavinia’s side of the balcony:

“Yeah Tristan!” Kiki shouted, “Wooo! Swords of Sasserine!”

There was also some whistling and loud clapping coming from that section as well. Then I heard my sisters cheering from there section:

“Yay Tristan,” Zabrina was shouting, “We love you!”

“You’re the best Tristan,” Yadda called, “The best!”

Then, for some reason, the applause seemed to grow louder and stronger. It was like rolling thunder, distant at first, but suddenly it was right on top of you rattling your teeth. Lux grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face the crowd, and this only seemed to make them cheer louder. People were standing I realized. I quickly gripped the other side of my blouse with my now very bloody left hand and I stood before the audience arms crossed, covered with my own blood. I bowed to them. They seemed to love it.

I used my meta magic to utter a stilled Prestidigitation spell. I’d thought to do this during my long trip back to the surface but this seemed as opportune time as any. I used the magic to force the blood out of the soft fibres of the blouse and along the hidden silken threads that Kale’s brother had so diligently sewn into my garb. Slowly the crowd began to silence as blood coloured runes and flaming skulls of Wee Jas began to appear on my arms and legs. My family crest was on my back. I quickly looked down at my work and was slightly disappointed to discover the colour wasn’t uniform, dark red near my hands, but only slightly pink towards the edge of the fabric. Still the effect would leave an impression.

I was just glad my treacherous eyes didn’t start leaking again.

“Take your seat with your fellow black daggers,” Lux said into my ear, and I stepped off the stage to join my new colleges. I was seated with the black daggers. I felt very much out of place. The youngest of their number was likely older then my mother and I could almost feel their hate and jealousy radiating towards me. Thankfully space was made at the front for me and I wouldn’t have to shuffle into their group looking for a seat.

Lux then invited the minstrels back to the stage and we sung a final hymn, and then our anthem. I was beginning to feel a bit dizzy and a thought suddenly occurred to me that with my magic moving the blood along the fibres of my blouse I might not be allowing the blood to clot. Thankfully with my arms elevated I wasn’t loosing much blood at this point but as I quickly glanced down at my blouse my fears were realized as the colour had grown far deeper and richer.

The ceremony had ended though and Annah waited for me in that anti room me and my fellow initiates had waited in earlier. The new Jasidin white dagger already had her thumb bandaged when I stepped into the room and Annah, sensing I was about to faint, quickly ushered me over to one of the benches before working on my hands. I was surprised to have the High Magnus tend to the wounds herself but feeling as dizzy as I was I didn’t dare comment.

“What a mess,” Annah said, “I don’t think you’ve gone as deep as the tendons, but after tonight’s vigil I don’t doubt you’ll be left with some scars.”

“I’ve earned plenty of scars in her service,” I said, “two more won’t matter.”

Annah nodded and began washing my wounds. I turned away, despite my earlier bravado, the pain and the sight of the blood made me dizzy. I didn’t dare look at the lesions. A thought suddenly occurred to me as a stared off into space, I’d instinctively said “her service” but at that moment I couldn’t figure out if I’d meant Lavinia or Wee Jas. I wondered if they’d become so similar in my mind.

After my wounds were bandaged I took out the portable hole from out of my sash. My hands hurt but I used my thumbs to manipulate the thing and scooped out my second sash with my stiff unmoving hands. The second sash was red, not quite the colour of drying blood, but a sharp contrast against the white and reddish brown of my blouse to be sure. I put my new daggers on the bench as I tried to untie my blood stained white sash, but I found my hands were numb with pain, and it hurt to do almost anything with then. The newly raised white dagger graciously offered to help. Her name was Anan. Painful uncooperative hands were not something that I hadn’t factored into my planning.

The newly minted white daggers and I were then obligated to visit Castle Teraknian and the dawn counsel. It was one last show of submission before we were free to get back to the business of protecting the city. Traditionally this was supposed to be voluntary, but with the religious significance of the ceremony being devalued, not showing to pledge your allegiance to the city would be scandalous.

By the time we made our way back to the surface the water was alight was dozens of boats, the docks didn’t have a particularly large crowd on them despite the number that were traveling to the castle, and I suspected that the wait would have been minimal, but Annah had her own boat that was already waiting for us. I hadn’t been in the great ballroom of Castle Teraknian since we’d received our spirals here all those months ago, back then nobody knew us, but now people seemed to recognise us. When we stepped off the docks and through the main entrance I could see Kale, Kiki and Fred were all talking with people. Nobles were rubbing shoulders with merchants and other upstanding citizens, all trying to get a word in with the heroes of Farshore. I wanted to join them, to share with them my thoughts, but I had business inside. Then I’d need to go to the cathedral, hopefully they’d find the time to visit me, but I wouldn’t be able to make time for them tonight.

Inside the five of us gathered while the counsel assembled. The others four, who had seemed indifferent before, now either saw me with interest or distain. Anan and the man from the merchant’s district (his name was Paul) and I politely chatted. The lady in the gown was curious about the spell I’d used to shape the blood but when I tried to be enigmatic she and the fisherman decided to ignore me. Thankfully we didn’t wait long. We were summoned into the ballroom were the district heads all stood on the dais while lesser members gathered on the floor around the platform. The dais was big enough to hold all seven of the counsel, though the seven almost never assembled these days, but I was surprised to see five were in attendance tonight. There must have been another function. There was the scheming Neldrak Lorechester of the Champions District, the wealthy Kalmander Taskerhill of the Cudgel District, the beautiful Anwyn Arabani from the Merchant District, the elven lord Aniphastus Knowlern from the Sunrise District, and Great uncle Worrin from my Noble’s District. The four began to take a knee but I prostrated myself before the counsel.

“You man rise witchwardens,” Taskerhill said, speaking for the counsel, “and approach the dais, we would have words with you.”

Standing took a little extra effort. I couldn’t push with my hands and my waste had that nasty needle belt so it hurt to bend. I followed the others. I saw Lavinia near the back. She was standing with Arabani’s people, I desperately wanted to kiss her, to tell her that the display had been in my goddess’ name, to tell her that I was sorry for putting her through that, to tell her that I knew she hated seeing me hurt, but that it was necessary for the ceremony, but it would be impossible for me to reach her. Our eyes met, and then I ushered forward to meet the district heads.

All of the District heads would have words with me, usually there was a polite hello and pointless small talk, and then we’d move onto the next person in line. Great uncle Worrin didn’t say much to me, it wouldn’t do to air our dirty laundry in public, but he acknowledged that I’d preformed admirably (nothing less then he expected from a Lidu) and promised that we’d have words later at the cathedral. Next I met the elven noble Aniphastus.

“People sometimes say that I live in the past,” the elf said with a smile, “but your actions make you seem like a ghost to me. I’ve not seen someone grab the blade like that in a very long time.”

Next I met with Anwyn: “I must confess that I’m not entirely familiar with your culture Lidu, but my drow blood found something exhilarating about that ceremony. I must have sat through that ceremony dozens of times now but never have I felt anything like this before. If you’re still in town tomorrow why don’t you join me at the opera? I’d love to . . . chat.”

Kalmander Taskerhill took my arms and looked at my bandaged hands, “I wouldn’t have guessed to have looked at you, but you got balls kid, your great uncle is a bit of a limp wrist, but you got balls. If you’re ever feeling unappreciated at home, you come work for me. I could use a girl like you. I got stevedores and teamsters that would piss themselves if they saw the likes of you.”

Finally I stood before Neldrak Lorechester: “Well that was quite a display,” he said with that enigmatic smile of his.

“Was it?” I asked.

“Yes, very ghoulish, I especially liked the trick with the blood on the shirt.”

“Was is a display I mean?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow, “Could have been,” he said, “Or perhaps you really are b**&!@& insane, either way you’ve launched yourself into the big leagues, and now district representatives like myself need to figure out if your friend or foe. Personally, being the cynical bastard that I am, I like to think that you’ve played up the old soloise angle to appeal to purists in the Lidu clan and throughout the city. Perhaps you’re looking to become the power behind the throne, Kord knows Worrin and Annah aren’t long for this world, and painting yourself as protector of the old ways might appeal to certain elements in the city, especially a small group in my district. What I need to figure out is how much is show and how much is real. I might be able to work with a cynic like myself, similarity I might even be able to work with the genuine article as a true Jasidin would never be a threat to me in the Champion’s district, but what has me worried is what if you’re one of these purists types that talks about returning to the old ways? There’s still too much hate and mistrust in this city to think about that. I can promise you that any attempt at returning a king or queen to the Teraknian throne will have the streets, much like those clever little threads in that top of yours, running red with blood.”

I then met various other nobles from around the dais, everyone seemed eager to meet me, but Annah was growing impatient and so I said my goodbyes so I could be spirited away. The dancing was just beginning as we left the ballroom. Elsewhere in the city there would probably be private parties for a fisherman made mystic knight, for a merchant finally recognised, and for an ambitious aristocrat climbing the hierarchal ladder, but for me and my new friend Anan there would only be quiet refection and prayer. My party would come tomorrow.

It was in the wee hours of the morning when Great uncle Worrin found me. I’d instinctively gravitated to the visage of the green lady to do my prayers, and it was only after I’d settled that I realized that Annah might be offended, but she looked at me with a quizzical look and left me to my vigil. My fellow inductee had stretched out on one of the pews to ‘rest her eyes’ and I myself was beginning to feel dullness creep into my head. The pain from my hands and the cramps in my legs were really the only things keeping me awake at that point. I was so focused in my task that I almost didn’t hear Worrin approach. He sat on a bench just to the right of the green lady and waited a moment before speaking.

“I’ve taken the opportunity of tonight’s festivities to finally speak with this young Vanderboren lady,” Great Uncle Worrin said, “And I must admit, do see the appeal. She is a remarkably well spoken and charming young lady. I’ll freely admit now that I was wrong in my earlier attempts at keeping you away from her, perhaps she is a tad brash and bold, but that’s a quirk of the young I fear. Working with her has made you a name and increased your personal stock with many in this city. She is also a very forward and right minded thinker with equally strong views about your public persona and legacy. We both care for you it seems. While you have been praying I’ve been hard at work securing allies. Anwyn, Lavinia, and I were able to come to some agreement on this news paper business of yours.”

That caused me to turn and face him, but as I opened my mouth I felt his finger on my lips reminding me that I was supposed to be in silent prayer. He placed his other hand on my head and gently turned it back towards the visage of the green lady.

“I’ve decided that I can no longer stand against you alone,” Worrin said as I resumed my silent prayers, “You still have love for me and your family I’m sure, but I’ve tarnished myself in your eyes with my meddling in your affairs. That can’t be helped. I’m too old to change my ways now. And I need to do what’s best for you even if you despise me for it. So I’m going to continue to meddling but now I’ve enlisted some help. Lavinia was quite agreeable to my concerns and we’ve both decided that it’s unseemly for you to be writing for a news paper, however I did see how you have used the medium to your advantage, but it ends now. Lavinia made an impassioned argument, not so much for herself, but more for your sake, and I have been swayed. I have agreed to allow the paper to print your accounts of the battle of Farshore, but we have all agreed that your work for the paper stops there.

“Furthermore,” Great Uncle Worrin continued, “To publicly dispel the illusion that you were actually working for the paper we have agreed you are going to take every gold piece, every silver, and every copper piece that you’ve earned from that rag and you’re going to donate it all to a worthy cause. Lavinia knew of a school for foundling girls that would likely be of interest to you. I thought it best that you double the amount from your own personal funds, you know, keeping with the spirit of charity, and Lavinia and I have agreed to top up the sum so it will be a nice round number. Something that will look good in print. You can even have your reporter friend cover the story.

“Now,” Worrin said leaning back against the wall, “in the sprit of compromise, I have given some thought towards this proposal you’ve put forward in the dawn counsel: having the press attend meetings is just simply out of the question, members of the counsel must feel free to speak their minds away from public pressures, but I was thinking that perhaps we could set aside a room in the castle for answering questions about counsel business. Also I have no objections to tightening laws around what can be printed in newspapers, separating fact form speculation, but this is going to make you quite unpopular, as this is your name on the proposal, and people still haven’t forgotten the Sea Princes or their restrictive rule, but I believe this might be in the public’s best interest. I also intend on putting forth guidelines concerning what can and cannot be shared from counsel meetings, as well as penalties and punishment for those that break our rules. I think we can both agree that this black pearl business shouldn’t have happened, and steps need to be in place so that it doesn’t happen again. Things worked out for you, it’s true, but things could have gone very differently for sure.

“Now I need to get to bed,” Great Uncle Worrin said standing, “You made me proud tonight Tristan, your grandfather would have just been beaming, we probably wouldn’t have needed a footman to light the way back to the compound if he’d been alive to have seen this. I know you’re probably upset, pray to Wee Jas to give you the strength to tolerate and forgive meddling relatives, and ask for the guidance to see things from their point of view.”

Great Uncle Worrin leaned forward and kissed me on my forehead, “This as been a good talk Tristan,” he said, “Pity we can’t do this more often.”

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Tristan’s Trick
School Conjuration; Level Bard 1, sorcerer/wizard 1, witch 1
Casting Time 1 immediate action
Components V
Range close (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels)
Effect one 5-ft square
Duration 1 round
Saving Throw none; Spell Resistance no

A solid plume of smoke completely obscures everything in the target square blocking all sight, including darkvision, in or out of the square. Creatures within the smoke have and suffer total concealment (50% miss chance, and the attacker can't use sight to locate the target).

Strong wind (21+ mph) instantly disperses the smoke.

The spell does not function underwater.

"It's smoke."

It felt as though I was arranging a puzzle in the dark. My index was massive. Over eight hundred pieces of research, nuggets and kernels I’d plucked out of my conjuration manuals, raw pieces of spells, and with my planar research thrown into the mix. The average spell of the first sphere usually had less the one hundred components, and that was with some generous accreditation to what a component was. There was little doubt in my mind that I’d need to do some trimming.

“It’s quite strange to see how these things break down for you,” the head mused. I’d sat it atop one of the shelves between the sulphur and iron shavings. It looked down upon my work and smiled. Thankfully I had a little money to rent one of the private labs and I had no fears about talking to my fetish, “I find it amazing to see how your language shapes magic.”

“You could help,” I suggested, not taking my eyes off of the jumble, “I’m beginning to see that I won’t be able to use all this.”

“You’re just seeing this now, are you?” Chimpman asked, “I suppose I should have said something sooner, but you do love your research and you do love being thorough. It was fun watching the mortal you work.”

“I’m not going to be sidetracked,” I said ignoring his hints, “I need this done by tomorrow. The pieces need to fit by then, which according to my schedule means I need this assembled by tonight, which means I’ll need this trimmed by noon, which means in the next hour and a half I need to trim seven hundred pieces . . .”

“Ever get the feeling that you’re putting too much thought into things?” the head asked.

I ignored him and looked back at my puzzle. Hop-Toy was busy rearranging scraps of paper, power words that I’d researched and written out, and each word carried with it a dozen or so bits of research. The paper was beginning to add up. I let him work at that for a while. We both knew what I intended but each piece seemed necessary. The problem with that was there were more verbal components then the average spell from the fifth sphere.

Then there were the components. I’d used the bits I’d known, objects that had a well defined use and purpose, but their effect on the words was variable. Like adding chemical components together in an alchemy lab, mixing together things that had known results was always predictable, but mixing together components without documented results was always dangerous. Even if you knew both components there was always the chance that they’d react in unexpected ways. Usually you might be able to predict the results, but there was a chance, and alchemy was dangerous for this reason. People had died discovering alchemist’s fire. I knew the words, I knew the components, but fitting them together could have completely unpredictable results.

The somatic component was one of the few safe parts of spell research. Either the spell would flow or it wouldn’t. The gestures were the last piece to the puzzle but I knew I had researched far too many of them as well. I had an idea what this spell would need but there was a possibility that I might need something to quicken my magic and I’d researched everything I could find on the subject just in case.
I sighed and leaned back. My head was starting to hurt and I massaged my temples. I clearly was over thinking things but I didn’t have the tools to stop. Extreme distress seemed to work wonders in battle but left to my own devices I seemed unable to force myself into a decision. Perhaps I needed to take my research to the roof and jump off it?

I narrowed my eyes and glared back at the table. I looked over the words. Then I felt something snap into place.

‘What is it?’ Hop-Toy asked suddenly looking up at me. Clearly he’d felt the sudden, almost violent, realization in my head as well.

Not the most graceful of creatures Hop-Toy had shuffled through the paper scraps and accidentally twisted one around so that it lay vertically across one of the horizontal pieces. The vowels had lined up and through my squinted eyes the words had looked like one.

‘I don’t understand,’ Hop-Toy said as he looked at the strange word he’d inadvertently created, ‘How would this help? How could you say such a word? Explain it to me.’

“You know words of power,” I asked, suddenly trying to rearrange the words so they formed one massive word, “Words that can stun, blind, kill? Well they’re simply made up of raw verbal components that can alter the very fabric of reality. I think I see how such things exist. There are certain sounds that have resonance. I think that . . . Aaaauuuugghh!”

I couldn’t manipulate the pieces of paper fast enough. They sometimes twisted or lined up at odd angles, sometimes my sleeve would catch a few, and in my frustration at explaining things to Hop-Toy I’d had enough of the traitorous and uncooperative paper. I dumped the entire works onto the floor. I moved to the blackboard. My morning notes were wiped off in an instant but as I quickly began scrawling my magnum opus it began to be clear to me that the chalk wasn’t fine enough to capture the nuances in the letters and symbols I needed. I moved to the walls writing each letter carefully with my fingers using . . . at that moment I didn’t know what I was using . . . something blackish.

I began collapsing my word components, forcing them, folding them, twisting them, and chopping out any unnecessary consonants or vowels. It felt like moments but as I began looking over my newly formed verbal component, a beautiful compound word that I’ve never seen before, I began to realize I was famished. I looked for my box lunch but Churtle’s work was strewn about the counter. A small bowl that had once held some tasty black bean paste was empty, smeared onto the walls I realized, but it was also all over my fingers, face, and hair. It dotted my dress as well.

“Balls,” I snapped as I sat down on the floor to gaze up at my work. I licked the paste from my fingers. I liked bean paste.

‘What is it?’ Hop-Toy asked as he hopped down onto my lap and stared up with me at the monstrosity that I’d created.

“It’s what I’d call a very good first step,” the head mused, “crawling along all these years, but now you’re finally walking.”

‘Will it work?’ Hop-Toy asked.

“It should,” the disembodied head laughed, “She’ll need to clean it up, get it on paper, and add some connective tissue so to speak, but as a newly researched spell it will do exactly what she intended.”

“I’m hungry,” I said, feeling the weight of my accomplishment, “And a little bit tired.”

. . .

The lady behind the window raised door to find me staring straight at her. She jumped. Clearly she wasn’t used to having someone waiting at the window of her department first thing in the morning.

“How can I help you initiate,” she asked.

I didn’t know her and I doubted if she knew me. She’d simply looked at my face and assumed I was an initiate. Most people in the tower as young as I were initiates. I had been, for a while, even young for an initiate, few in these halls were as young as seventeen, but this would soon change. Soon I’d be young as a black dagger.

I hoped.

“I have a new spell for peer review and notes for archiving,” I said. I’d practiced those words over and over so they sounded normal. I watched her eyes looking for any clue that she thought the words were abnormal. I saw no sign but it was hard to tell, for some reason she wasn’t meeting my gaze.

‘Remember to blink,’ Hop-Toy helpfully reminded me. I wisely took his advice.

“There are two sets of forms for you to fill out,” the woman said, handing me some paper. Behind the counter I saw her fiddling with her white hilted dagger. In two days time I would have one of my own.

“I know,” I said, “I have a pen for filling out forms.”

“I see that,” the woman said, licking her lips, “this is for the peer review . . .”

I allowed Hop-Toy to guide my pen so that I could maintain eye contact. Through his eyes I began to write. I had to continue to act normal. I smiled and watched her . . . the way humans often do. Everything was normal.

“Have you written a new cantrip dear?” the woman asked, briefly looking up at me before quickly focusing on the form I was filling in.

“I have it right here,” I said before I realized that she’d asked me something out of the anticipated order, “I would require a receipt showing the time and date you received this.”

“Excuse me?” she said glancing up before quickly looking back down at my writing.

“It’s one page,” I said trying to remember how small talk worked, “plus twenty eight pages of notes.”

There was an uncomfortable silence between us.

“My kobold makes the best bean paste,” I finally said. It may have taken a while but I successfully recalled something of non consequence to bring up in polite company. We would likely become friends later.

“You said you had something archive as well?” she asked.

I laughed, delighted to be back on script. The woman failed to laugh with me though. I thought for a moment we might be able to share a moment.

“Fifteen hundred pages,” I said, “Plus an envelope of scrap.”

“Please fill this . . .” I’d already begun working on the paper work for the archive.

“These are the notes for your spell?” she asked, seemingly amazed.

“Yes,” I managed after a moment. She collected my forms and looked them over.

“What’s this spell called?” She asked noting a blank section.

This was something I hadn’t considered . . .

“Tristan’s T-ttt-rick” I finally managed, not bad for thinking on my feet, “Tristan’s Trick!”

“You should put that down then,” she said, “and what does this spell do?”

That was something I hadn’t considered either. I knew what the spell did but I hadn’t thought that anyone in this department would care. It was all just paperwork to them.

“It . . .” I started, “Summons . . .” I fought for the word, that I needed, but I was on the verge of another language malfunction.

“It summons what?” she asked.

“Smoke!” I finally blurted out, “It summons smoke!”

. . .

“What I’m saying young Lidu is I don’t think I understand what this spell does or it’s use,” one of the black daggers reviewing my spell said, “I can see it’s quite complex, that’s not the point, I mean demonstrating your mastery of magic is all well and good, but the point of this review is to see if this spell is worth adding to our collection.”

I didn’t like him I decided.

“These notes,” the lady black daggers said, “twenty eight pages for a first sphere spell? Was it your goal to make understanding its function more difficult then understanding its use?”

“And did you really think we’d get through all this?” The third black dagger asked pointing to my research notes. I thought his name was Margold, he was one of the three (along with Lux), that I’d revealed the unfinished shadow pearls to, “Some of us have been saddled with direly important research on top of our usual duties. No one here has a week to look through your notes.”

“Explain to me why this isn’t an illusion spell?” the first black dagger demanded, “It would have taken a week to put together a simple illusion spell that achieves this same result . . .”

“This took me a week,” I said pointing at my spell. That caused the first one to raise his eyebrows.

“That,” I said gesturing towards my notes, “Took the better part of six years. Condensing that into my spell took the better part of six days. I don’t know what you want, I’ve simplified things as best I could, but I needed to show my work. I did that should someone wish to follow me through my thought process. It’s not an illusion spell because many of the monstrosities I face these days see straight through figments and glamers. It’s not transmutation because I’m not a transmuter. It’s a conjuration spell because I’m a conjurer. As to its use, that should be immediately obvious to anyone who’s seen action in the field.”

“You summon smoke,” the first black dagger said, “how would that, in any way shape or form, be useful?”

“It’s smoke,” I said, unsure of how that could be any more precise.

There was a silence for a moment as everyone waited for me to elaborate. I could hear people in the small crowd murmuring. The black daggers seemed to grow impatient. Margold began tapping his note book.

“I suppose you could use it to quickly block line of sight,” Margold finally said, “protect yourself for a moment from some ranged spells or targeted spells.”

“But that would only give her a moment at best,” the first black dagger sighed, “This smoke dissipates quickly. You cast a second sphere illusion spell and suddenly you have ages to plan and you don’t . . .”

“The problem there is the casting time,” I said, “for those few seconds you’re wide open and vulnerable, granted with time to prepare invisibility is superior, but in desperation my spell could give you that moment needed to cast your illusions.”

“But my point is this: your spell’s effects would last but a moment.”

“In my line of work a moment is all I need.”

There was some laughter from the audience. Some of the white daggers, more then a few initiates, and a couple senor students from the house of the dragon had come to the review. More then I believe I’d ever seen for such a low level spell. Normally there wouldn’t be this many here to see an initiate’s spell. I suspected that the room would be empty to be honest. Had it been a black dagger sitting where I was sitting this review would have been advertised. Likely the room would be packed and there would have been time set aside for questions from the floor.

“Cute,” the first black dagger said, “How long did it take you to come up with that line?”

“That was only twenty minutes of planning,” I honestly said, “I try to anticipate what people will ask and come up with cleaver responses. Then I run them past my kobold to make sure they’re not too far out there. But seriously, the difference between this and invisibility say, is I could instantly start summoning something under cover of smoke, but it would take a moment or two to get my invisibility spell up. I can summon this as fast as you could cast a feather fall spell.”

“Well,” the second black dagger said, “I think you’ve given us much to talk about, I think we’d like to discuss our thoughts in private now if you don’t mind.”

“Very well,” I said as they got up to leave, “I believe there’s some sort of initiation tonight? I return to Farshore to prepare.”

“Wait,” Margold said, “What . . .”

To prove my point I washed myself in smoke with my new spell and then used my metamagic to silently teleport myself to Lavinia’s room back in Farshore. All they would have seen was a puff of smoke and when it cleared I’d be gone. They were wizards, they knew most of my tricks, but they probably wouldn’t know for sure how I’d done it. I laughed at the thought of them checking the room in case I’d gone invisible or something like that.

“You know laughing manically to yourself is never a good sign,” Lavinia said from under the covers of her bed behind me.

I gasped.

“I thought you’d be at work,” I said by way of an apology.

“I work from home remember?” Lavinia said, “And you said today your spell would be peer reviewed, which sounded like a big deal, so I took the day off, but when I woke you were already gone.”

I put my hands to my mouth. Never in a million years would I have thought Lavinia would want to sit through one of these dull reviews, most students didn’t bother unless it was their spell. The review was usually equipped to handle an audience, some of the more impressive spells were reviewed in a lecture hall, but I honestly believed that nobody would bother to attend mine. I thought it would have just been me and the three black daggers reviewing.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” I said as I threw myself onto the bed next to her, “I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry. I didn’t even think to ask. They’re kind of dull and tedious if you don’t know what’s going on. I thought I was saving you from something dreadful by not asking because I knew if I did ask you’d have felt compelled to attend.”

“Let me ask you something,” Lavinia said grabbing my head in a sort of half headlock against her chest, “If I were taking my martial review of my forms in one of the schools of fencing back in Sasserine would you want to go?”

“Of course,” I freely admitted, twisting slightly to find a more comfortable position for my body, “But that’s partly because I like seeing you in those wonderfully tight pants and those knee high boots.”

“I’m being serious,” Lavinia snapped.

“As am I,” I snapped back, then, feeling her grip loosen, I rolled over to put my head in her lap, “I’d want to be there for moral support of course, but there would be something else in it for me there. Of course I wanted you to come to my review but I’d want you to enjoy yourself as well. I want you to come if I have another peer review, Wee Jas knows I’d love to have you with me everywhere I go, but asking you to go seemed selfish. You have a life outside of mine . . .”

“I just worry that you don’t think I’m smart enough . . .”

She broke off talking the moment I started laughing again. To me it seemed the most absurd thing I’d ever heard. Then I saw her anger. I wasn’t immediately sure why she suddenly stood and stalked off. I was left floundering in the bed.

“What is it?” I asked, “Are you mad?”

She didn’t respond but instead walked into her private bathroom and shut the door behind her.

“Lavinia talk to me!” I said banging on the door. She was ignoring me though. I took flight, zipping out the window and flying up to the bathroom window. Most of spells required line of sight sadly. I waited a moment for Lavinia to finish her business in the bathroom (she naturally wouldn’t have retreated in there without having some reason for going in there in the first place) but I wasn’t intent on waiting for her to wash up. I folded space and time to move through the walls.

“I think you plenty smart,” I snapped as I stepped into the room behind her, “I fell in love with a woman because of her intelligence, her looks caught my eye, but I fell in love with her mind and intellect.”

“Yet you keep things from me,” she said glaring at me through the mirror, “This business with your priest, your studies, other things as well, and don’t lie to me, I’ve been watching you Tristan, you’re not a very good liar. Maybe you don’t think me stupid but you do keep secrets from me. I’ve never held anything back from you why do you have to keep secrets from me? Why, for example, are you wearing that needle belt under your cloths?”

“It’s a penance from the High Magnus,” I said, the belt itched from time to time but it was seldom anything worse then uncomfortable, I had a high pain threshold after all, “Annah gave me the penance in hopes it would teach me some respect. Although I thought I had respect for her before I’ll do the penance because I trust her wisdom.”

“And what did you say to her that would . . .”

“Questioning religious doctrine,” I quickly cut in, “All things considered I think I got off lightly.”

She spun to face me.

“How about you tell me about Hop-Toy now?” Lavinia said, “And no more lies this time.”

“Okay,” I said, “There was no hawk.”

“You know what I mean,” Lavinia said, “He’s no longer a toad. No longer like any toad I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling the words bubble up, “He’s been touched and shaped by things not of this world.”

“What does that mean?” Lavinia asked, I couldn’t feel any anger or fear in her voice, “Like demons or devils or something like that?”

“No,” I said, “Nothing like that. Those evil entities are part of this world in a way, they routinely touch it, what has influenced him is completely alien to this world. Some would say that when reality was formed it was carved out of pure chaos. First came law to give it its shape, then there was this swirling mass with law and chaos, and then came good and evil, and then, in that swirling fabric, the centre became the prime material plane. They say the gods shaped the rest. But there was something beyond that Lavinia, outside the swirl, something nether good nor evil, nor lawful nor even truly chaotic, as chaos as it exists in this world was defined and refined by law, and somewhere in that mess is a plane so completely unlike our own it usually defies any and all description. We scholars usually call this the far realm, for lack of a better term, and touching that realm has somewhat warped Hop-Toy Dan.”

“And what about you?” she asked. Now I sensed the fear. I knew I should stop talking but the words kept coming.

“There are countless ways to loose one’s sanity Lavinia,” I said looking into her eyes, “Mathematicians have gone mad looking into infinity, alchemists minds have unravelling while trying to untangle the building blocks of existence, and painters breaking because they were unable to capture a drop of dew on a single rose peddle. I’m loosing my mind Lavinia. One can’t look into that vast unexplainable infinite known as the far realm without being touched by it. For me that journey began before we met. Back while I was at the House of the Dragon. I studied the official curriculum by day and delved into forbidden knowledge by night. My mind expanded, but it was also altered. I knew then, as I know now, that reality for me is a fragile thing. The fabric that holds our worlds together is paper thin, and for me, my mind is now attuned to things outside our realm of reality. I hear things. See things. My world is slipping and it’s gotten worse as of late. Sometimes I think I’m someone else. Sometimes I feel like there’s something inside me that needs to escape. Sometimes people get distorted, words twist in my mouth, and the only thing I have to hold onto, the only thing that makes me remember what’s real, is my friends and you. So that’s why I didn’t tell you about my toad. I promised that I wouldn’t change but I am and I can’t stop.”

Lavinia looked me in the eye for the longest time.

“What do we do now then?” she asked.

“We?” I asked, after a moment, “How could there be a ‘we’? No sensible woman would . . .”

“Are you a danger to me?” Lavinia quickly asked.

“What?” I gasped, “No! I’d rather die then . . . I could never hurt you . . .”

“Are you a danger to our friends or Farshore?”

“Of course not,” I snapped, “I’m loosing my grip on reality not on my morality.”

“You needn’t snap at me,” Lavinia said, and I knew she was right, she was handling it remarkably well all things considered. I’d thought that she’d have sent me packing by now. She of course would still need to know if I could still be of use to her and Farshore, “do you see friends as enemies or anything like that?”

“No,” I said, “I’d have left to live in the wilds of Renkru if I thought that were a possibility. I see and hear things that might not be there . . .”

“When you think you’re someone else, are these other people dangerous?”

“It’s not like that,” I said, “I get someone else’s eyes, but I still have my memories. They know who people are . . .”

“So then, the question still stands: what do we do?”

“Well I suppose Kale would . . .”

“I don’t want to talk about him right now!” Lavinia snapped, “I’m talking about us! You and I. You can choose if, when, and how you deal with your companions later. What I want to know is what do we do?”

“We?” I almost cried, “How can there be a ‘we’? I just told you I’m loosing my mind! That’s why I kept things from you for so long. I love you. I didn’t want to loose you, but how could you . . .”

“Tristan!” Lavinia snapped, cutting me short, she then seemed to stare at me for the longest time. Finally she took my hand.

“Follow me,” she said. She led me out of her private bath and back into the bedroom. She sat on her bed and pulled me down beside her.

“Tristan,” she said very slowly, “Where you under the impression that I knew you all this time and didn’t notice something odd? Did you think that I thought you completely lucid and sane?”

“Well . . .” I’d never really though about how Lavinia viewed my mental state, “I’m sure I must have seemed a bit eccentric . . .”

Suddenly a noise came from Lavinia. It took me a moment to realize it was laughter. Her laugh was beautiful and musical, but it was completely unexpected, and I sat their puzzled not knowing what could be funny about this situation.

“Do you know the first time I laid eyes on you?” she asked, I shook my head indicating that I didn’t, “You used to walk past my school almost every day. I suppose I saw you many times back then, but you were an odd character, clearly talking to yourself, wearing that plain white dress, I mean you were pretty enough, but your face was always kind of twisted as if you were in an argument. You weren’t really in my mind set at the time naturally. Then this one day, you were walking along, not quite following the side of the road, and you started drifting towards its centre just as a coach was driving by. I thought for a moment that this unknown . . . eccentric as you put it . . . was going to get run down. For a moment I thought maybe I might save you or something, but you know how in a crisis sometimes your body just doesn’t want to work, well I was frozen helplessly in place, watching in horror, thinking I was about to see you run down right in front of me, but then some stranger waves the horses down and the coach stops just a few feet short. The coach driver starts shouting at you and you just sort of looked up at him as if seeing him and the coach for the first time. I must say you give him quite the glare, than you must have realized you were in the middle of the road, and you moved to the side of the road and continued on as if nothing had happened.

“When you turned your back the driver took his nasty whip and looked about ready to give you a snap but the stranger had jumped up onto the bench and caught the man’s wrist:

““That’s Tristan Lidu,” he said, “one of the district’s councillor’s grand nieces, and she’s a wizard to boot.””

“”That crazy bint?” the driver said, “She walked out in front of my carriage! She ain’t no wizard, she’s got to be fourteen at best.””

“”She’s sixteen and she graduated top of her class from the house of the dragon,” this fellow says, “They say maybe one of the most talented students ever to graduate from there. That was months ago. She might be powerful enough to blast you to ash. These wizards, their minds don’t work like regular folk’s minds do.””

“Then the fellow hops down and the fellow in the carriage drives away. At the time I was absolutely floored. Like that driver I didn’t think you looked like a powerful wizard. You certainly didn’t act like I thought one should but I watched you every day from there on out. I once even followed you to that shop you used to work at, and watched you mixing orders behind the counter. I admit that you hadn’t really caught my eye so much at that point, but I did think you kind of attractive, and you had me curious. I thought if I ever needed a wizard I’d track you down.”

“Who was the man?” I asked, “The one that saved my life?”

“Oh,” Lavinia shrugged, “I didn’t know him, never saw him before or after actually, but I remember he was dressed up for a play or something. He was one of those traveling minstrel types, he had a harp and a flute with him, and they looked functional, but the thing that stood out was he was pretty much dressed up to look like Heward. You know Heward from the company of seven? Well his costume looked like that, right down to the tuning forks, I mean it was a really detailed getup, and I suppose he did have a passing resemblance to the pictures I’ve seen, but he was hardly convincing, and his cloths were decades out of style. He must have been a traveling actor or something because the opera house only likes to use the most recent designs.

“Anyways,” Lavinia said, getting back on subject, “I was under no illusions as to your mental state when I hired you. I remembered what that man said: that your mind doesn’t work like normal folk’s minds do, and in truth I only hired you because I thought you were a bit of an idiot savant, but then when we met and you talked . . . you had such passion, such humility, and such humanity.

“When you confronted that pirate . . . I was scared you know, I’d worked myself almost free, but I was scared to do anything. He’d hurt Tolin, Zan, and he’d killed poor Cora, but then you showed up, and you stared him down . . . I knew everything was going to be alright. Everything seemed to turn out alright when you were around. I never for a moment thought you were completely normal up there,” Lavinia said tapping my head, “but that’s something I’ve come to accept. That’s something I can live with.”

“There’s more,” I said, “I’m changing physically as well.”

“What do you mean?” Lavinia asked.

“Like Hop-Toy,” I said, swallowing hard, “I’m going through a metamorphosis. Soon I’ll stop aging altogether. My body resonates in tune with that realm outside our reality you see. Fragments of my past, present, and perhaps even future will fuse making me a composite being. And then . . . then . . .”

Lavinia waited.

“Then I become something more then what I am now. Physically there will likely be a slight change, that’s unavoidable, but I will still be who I am now . . . provided that I don’t face anymore mental degradation. This isn’t the same as what happened to . . . I haven’t sold my soul, it’s a natural progression, well not entirely natural, but a shift of the mind and body. It’s similar to the spiritual anthesis that a monk goes though. It’s like mind over matter and that sort of thing, but more like mind over reality. Mental transcendence if you will . . .”

Lavinia continued to stare at me. Waiting. I thought of the rhyming girl.

“I might grow tentacles out of the back of my skull . . .” I said putting my hands up to my head and wiggling my fingers to represent the tentacles. I waited for her to look away in horror.

“Soooo . . .” Lavinia said after a moment. Strangely unaffected by my pantomime.

“So that comes back to your question: what do we do?” I said.

“Well,” Lavinia said, “As I see it we take steps. I understand there’s a ceremony tonight, where the witchwardens sometimes raise and promote members. Maybe our first step should be getting ready for that?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” I said. I felt so grateful to her. She’d heard my confessions and didn’t judge. She didn’t accuse. She trusted me. I loved her more then anything at that moment.

“That,” Lavinia said, grabbing my chin, “Is something we’re going to need to work on. But for now let’s get ready for the ceremony. As a member of the dawn counsel I’m allowed to attend of course, but normally I’d take a pass on these quasi-religious things, but I feel this month’s ceremony might be worth attending.”

Lavinia forbade me from getting out of bed that morning. Personally I find it amusing when she’s so protective. However I don’t think I’ll press my luck with her too much . . .

Breakfast in bed was a nice treat. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure before. Lavinia also saw that I had a bed desk, or whatever she called, it was a nice flat surface that I could write on in bed. I think she knew I’d only be bullied so far. I needed to get my work done and Lavinia knew me well enough to know I wasn’t going to put it off. I was happy for this compromise. I would have been more comfortable at my desk but I happily worked away at my diaries and legislation at the little desk whilst propped up on pillows. Lavinia was constantly in the room, I’ll not say she was patrolling, but I am sure that if I made a move to rise she would quickly spring into action. Resigned to my fate I quickly lost myself in my work.

“Tristan,” Lavinia said after a while, I glanced up at her when no follow up was forthcoming and saw that she wasn’t looking to me but rather at her wash basin. It took me but a moment to realize that my familiar sat semi submerged in the middle of the basin. She was staring at him and Hop-Toy, in turn, was staring up at her! I wasn’t sure how to react, my first instinct was to hide my familiar away, he was a toad and most women find such creatures repulsive.

Then part of me thought why am I embarrassed? Hop-Toy has been a loyal companion lo these last eight years. Should I abandon my friend and companion because he made my lover uncomfortable? If she truly loved me she would accept him as being a part of my life. It had certainly been no secret before we became so close that he was my familiar.

Then yet another part was screaming something about a breach in etiquette. This was Lavinia’s room and Hop-Toy and I were guests. Hop-Toy was in Tristan’s personal space and we should have asked where he could sleep before taking over such an essential location.

Then, before I could react or say anything, Lavinia reached into the basin and picked Hop-Toy up.

“I’ve always wondered why you choose a toad as your familiar,” she said, gently holding Hop-Toy up so she could look at him, “I mean you get a choice don’t you? Why not a cat or a raven? Maybe an owl? I think that’s what I would have chosen.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then it occurred to me I hadn’t gone to Lavinia’s room, someone had carried me, and I hadn’t put Hop-toy in the wash basin, although that was where I usually kept him. Furthermore I distinctly remember Lavinia using that wash basin that morning already. I wondered why I was so hypersensitive.

“I’m not sure why I picked a toad,” I said, “perhaps you could say he picked me? But there were lots of beautiful animals and everyone looked over the cats and birds, and there was this sad little sack sitting alone in his cage, but no one even glanced at him. I had been eying a raven but I figured that I should look at all the creatures just to be scientific. I wasn’t impressed with that little guy. Every other creature seemed better suited to my needs, except the snakes, I had no use for the snakes, but that was just as well anyways because the boys loved anything slimy or scary like that. So anyways, after looking over all the creatures I decided on a hawk, in fact I had a fine specimen in mind, but then as I was passing the table I saw that sad little toad again. I knew no one was going to choose him, and I looked down into his sad little eyes knowing he was neglected and forgotten, a bit like me in that school, and for some reason I picked him rather then that beautiful hawk. All in all I can’t say I’m terribly disappointed, but I often wonder how much different life would have been with a hawk for a familiar.”

That of course was a bit of a fib, I’d never selected a hawk, nor had I looked at the other familiars, I’d spied poor old Hop-Toy by himself and was pretty much sold. He was a lot like me, small, quiet and weird, and from the moment I heard his rich deep voice inside my head I knew I’d made the right decision. Still, I didn’t want Lavinia to think I was strange or anything.

Hop-Toy knew the lie for what it was but he chose not to call me on it. Lavinia had discovered that he liked having the side of his head rubbed and he was completely under her spell.

“He does sort of suit you though,” Lavinia said, clearly bemused by his antics, “but he is the strangest looking toad I’ve ever seen. I thought he was smaller before and he looked ordinary. Why’d he change?”

“Oh,” I said with a slight laugh, “that’s because . . .”

The words froze in my mouth. Lavinia couldn’t know the real reason! That Hop-Toy and I were slowly being shaped by the far realm, especially not after what became of her brother! I tried to think up a lie or a likely solution but in my moment of panic my mind was suddenly empty. Thankfully Lavinia herself supplied the solution:

“Can’t explain it so that I can understand it?” Lavinia asked raising an eyebrow.

“No it’s not that,” I quickly explained, “but magic has all sorts of secrets. You know, telling you something, that’s totally innocuous to you, might be a key to someone else’s dark riddle. It’s hard to say sometimes that can be used for good or evil.”

“You think I’d share your secrets,” she said, there was something in that tone that made me cringe.

“No,” I quickly said, “but magic is all about discipline and control as well and knowledge is a savage beast. We train our minds to hold the deepest darkest truths of the universe. There are things in my head that that could destroy someone’s untrained mind. Some knowledge can be extremely caustic you see. So basically the thing I want to tell you is something somewhere between those two realms. I’m trying to decide what I can say. You know as mages go I’m quite powerful so I’m at the point where I have to be particularly careful what I say and how I say it.”

“Brag, brag,” she said with a smile, but the good natured rib was in a sensitive area, and I suddenly felt the need to defend my remarks.

“It’s true,” I said, “few ever make it to this level and no one that I know of has made it this far this young. I’m not bragging, it’s a statement of fact, and while I appreciate the need to stay modest, I can’t allow myself for a moment . . .”

“Tristan it was a joke,” Lavina said.

“I Know,” I said, “but there are things that I can’t joke or brag about . . .”

“I don’t think I’ve ever known you to brag,” Lavinia said, trying to reassure me, “that’s why I thought I could joke about it. It’s true though? The things you said? That you know things that could destroy someone’s mind?”

“Not just anyone’s mind,” I said before I could stop myself, “but there’s no choice in the matter, there are things you simply cannot un-see, things that you simply can’t un-know . . . thing affect you in different ways, but it’s no difference then learning to dance or how to fight. Your body changes after a while, you gain posture, your body builds calluses, and you can’t really hide the fact after a while.”

“That sounds dangerous . . .”

“Everything is dangerous,” I said, “waking up in the morning is dangerous, sleep is dangerous, life is full of danger and the only thing you can do is minimize the risk because you certainly can’t stop living. I don’t mean to sound condensing but I’ve had this exact same argument with Kale ad nauseam, and while I fully realize that you are not Kale I can’t stand to have this argument with you . . .”

Lavinia just stared at me as the words tumbled out and even as I was saying them I wanted to put them back into my mouth and swallow whole but something kept them forcing them out.

“I don’t recall accusing you of anything Tristan or even making demands of you,” Lavinia said, “and while you might not care for arguments doubting your competence or capability I don’t care for being dragged into an argument I didn’t even start. I wanted to know about your familiar because I’m interested in you, not because I wanted to fight with you about something, if you want to fight . . .”

“Come back to Sasserine with me,” I suddenly said.

“What?” Lavinia said, caught off guard by my sudden change in direction.

“I need to work in the tower and you could take care of some personal business I’m sure.”

“You are spending the day in bed,” Lavinia said, “you collapsed yesterday if you’ll remember?”

“I know that’s what ‘we’ said I’d do today but I think we both knew, even as we were making those plans that it wasn’t likely to happen,” I said trying to sound conciliatory, “I’m far too busy this week to be bed ridden all day, but I will make you this promise: once this week is over I’ll spend an entire day in bed if you want. But today I need to get back to Sasserine to finish my research and I was thinking that tonight, when we’re both done our work, we might go to the theatre. I’ve only been a couple of times but before my companionship was just awful. I’d like to go back and see something with someone I wanted to be with.”

“Tristan,” Lavinia said, with no real conviction to her voice, “you’re in no shape to travel.”

“I’m in perfect health,” I said, “if you don’t believe me have Buffy come up here and give me the once over, one fainting spell doesn’t equate to a full day of bed rest. Yesterday I skipped breakfast, put in a full day of research and was subjected to a fair amount of stress. I promise you that I’ll be talking it much easier today. Besides you don’t really want to spend the day in town do you? Not when Sasserine is practically right outside the door.”

“If Buffy thinks you’re healthy then maybe we’ll talk, but I’m not letting you take any chances, not while you’re in my care, is that understood?”

“Yes ma’m,” I said as I quickly returned to my work. I doubted Lavinia wanted to stick around all day watching over me, and coming with me to Sasserine was as good an excuse as any to avoid that drudgery, but I also knew that she was equally as stubborn as I and would do everything in her power to see that I stayed in bed to recover if Buffy made the erroneous conclusion that I was still ill.

Lavinia quickly replaced Hop-Toy back into the wash basin and went off in search of our party priest.

‘Why do you feel the need to lie to her?’ Hop-Toy eventually asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I said.

‘Obviously,’ Hop-Toy asked peering out from over his dish, “which is why I ask. You’re female is smart and strong and very capable of dealing with you. Why lie and establish a basis of mistrust? If she comes to know the truth it’s better to have it out now then later.’

“After that bad business with her brother,” I said in a low tone, “I promised her that I’d never change. That was an implicit promise not to allow myself to fall under the influence of outside forces like her brother. Only when I made that promise we were already too far down that path to turn back. She fell in love with me since then and if I reveal to her now that every moment after that promise was build on a bed of lies how could she ever forgive me?”

‘You assume what she meant,’ Hop-Toy said, ‘but obviously we can’t take her literal meaning because no one could keep such a promise. But the lady isn’t familiar with the planes or outsider influence. She did know her brother had become a monster but he was not just a demonic. He had changed from the person she once knew into someone that would kill and hurt those around him. I suspect that this is what she meant. As long as you stay a true friend and confidant then I don’t think she’ll care what you look like.’

“She called him a demon,” I said.

‘Perhaps if she had called him a devil you’d understand what I mean,’ Hop-Toy croaked, ‘she called him a monster as well you will recall. All are synonyms and mean the same to the layman. It was you that easily deduced that he had made a pact with a demon. Even now you’re making the assumption that she means outsider influence when she speaks about change. It is the work of a guilty mind.’

“You’re crazy,” I said.

“Well you’re the one talking to him,” someone beside me said.

I almost jumped out of my skin. I was lucky that my ink well wasn’t on my bed desk at the time otherwise I suspect I would have spilled ink all over Lavinia’s bed as well as the walls. As is, I nearly launched the desk across the room and spilled loose papers everywhere.

The culprit was Kiki and the little imp laughed till her sides ached . . . I was far less amused. Lavinia would be returning with Buffy soon and if I couldn’t bring my heart rate back under control I’d need to commit the first act of defiance in our relationship. Then there was the matter of her coming into Lavinia’s bedroom without knocking. It was an invasion of privacy and a breach of decorum. Kiki and I had shared a room often during our adventures and so her barging into our room wasn’t an issue but now that I was staying in Lavinia’s quarters things were different. I fully intended to set her straight but somehow it slipped my mind.

“So,” Kiki said before I could scold her, “you and Lavinia . . .”

“What do you mean,” I gasped, I wasn’t ashamed of our new relationship but on the other hand I really didn’t want it common knowledge yet, “I mean, what about us?”

Clearly my quick recover had no effect as the shoal Halfling simply rolled her eyes.

“Come on,” Kiki said, “I’m not dense, you and her have always been creeping around together, having secret meetings and things, but now you’ve moved into her room and are sleeping in her bed.”

“There are all kinds of logical explanations for this,” I said, desperately trying to think of some.

“So here’s what I want to know,” she said ignoring my stalling attempt, “how does it work? Like I know about how a man and a woman does it but I didn’t even know that sort of thing was possible with two women. Don’t the men have the essential parts? I need to know the mechanics Tristan. How does it work?”

If I was worried about my heart rate before I wasn’t now. All the blood in my body had gone to my head and cheeks.

“I’m sure I don’t know . . .”

“Come on,” Kiki said, “that’s not what it sounded like the other night. Normally it’s girl on bottom man on top, but do you like both get on your sides? Do you need any special tools or anything?”

“Get out!” I cried, pulling the blankets over my head to hide, what I was sure was, my beet red face. “I’m not talking to you anymore!”

“Fine,” Kiki said as she turned to walk out of the room, “I guess I’ll just have to wait till you write about it in your journal.”

“You don’t read abyssal,” I said as I pulled back the blankets to glare at her.

“Yet!” Kiki laughed as she darted out of the room, “The key word there is yet!”

“Good luck finding someone to teach you!” I hollered, tossing a pillow after her. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine curiosity or what she thought it was good natured teasing, either way it was still a highly inappropriate thing to ask!

Lavinia eventually returned with Buffy in tow. The priestess checked my pulse, listened to my lungs, and felt my neck and forehead. She seemed happy with what she found and after a few basic questions gave me a clean bill of health. Lavinia eyed me suspiciously, as if I had somehow used my magic to fool the priestess, but then thought the better of it and quickly changed into something appropriate for a day in Sasserine. I got the feeling that she was anxious for the brief respite from mayoral duties.

We arrived in Sasserine within moments. Despite me better judgement I brought Kiki along. She said something about wanting to visit her family and despite never having mentioned family before I saw no reason to doubt her. Thankfully she didn’t ask any more embarrassing questions. She had the good sense not to say anything crude in Lavinia’s presence. Buffy, Kiki, Lavinia, and I all had business in separate parts of the city and so after we made our evening plans we quickly dispersed to look after our plans.

I was eager to return to my research but first I needed to look into opera tickets. I’d been a few times before but as a guest. Now I wanted to attend as a host. I quickly scanned the opera house to find some place to buy tickets.

It was inside the main doors where I discovered the ticket counter but it was closed and the sign said that it wouldn’t be open till noon. I had high hopes that I’d be in the midst of my sub indexing by then and had no intentions of breaking from my research to stand in line. Churtle had even packed me a box lunch so I didn’t need worry about stopping for that. Something told me that if I didn’t take care of this while it was fresh in my mind it might get put off completely. I suddenly had this scenario in my mind of Lavinia and I arriving late to discover the show had been sold out! Fortunately I spied action in the offices behind the ticket counter:

“Excuse me,” I said to an important looking fellow, “when does this counter open?”

I pointed at the sign which explicitly stated when it would open. The gentleman opened his mouth, as if to offer some snide remark, but then he paused to look me over: He must have seen my great ruby ring of wizardry, my Lidu signet ring, the magical golden band on my left hand, the woven metal bracers on my arms, the silver bejewelled headband, the heavily adorned rod of metamagic sitting in the crook of my arm, my belt and boots both made of rare and mystical leather, the silver knife tucked into my belt, my well woven cloak, my simple “work” dress cut from thick expensive grey silk which had been embroidered with silver and golden red thread, and then he may have noticed that I floated a good six inches off of the floor.

“I could open it now,” he finally said, licking his lips, “what showing are you interested in?”

“The evening performance,” I said carefully choosing the words, “two tickets.”

“Ah yes, ‘The Witch of Perrenland’, a tale of sorcery and demons. It’s very popular. I expect we’ll need to extend its run. Some have seen it four or five times now and we’ve gotten requests from as far away as Greyhawk. We have first balcony seating still available as well as bowl seats . . .”

“Box seats?” I asked.

“I’m sorry madam but unless one of our patrons has tragically passed on and left you box seats in their will, or you’ve somehow become married to someone who owns box seats, it’s impossible. We sold out all of our box seats three years in advance. In fact there’s a three year waiting list just to get into the lottery for a chance to win the right to buy season tickets . . .”

“Every time I’ve been I’ve had box seats,” I said.

“Well I’m afraid it’s impossible this time, unless you attend as a guest, there’s just no way . . .”

“Is Nylaria around?” I asked as a thought suddenly hit me, the manager had seats available and often hosted the city’s elite, “I would speak with her.”

“You know Mistress Absalee?” the man asked.

“I know of her,” I said trying to keep my words as simple as possible, “and I suspect she will know of me as well.”

“Very well,” he said, “whom shall I say is calling?”

“Tristan Lidu,” I said, “tell her that Lavinia Vanderboren and I will only be in Sasserine for the day. We will be returning to Farshore tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

He nodded, but he gave me a strange look as if to say ‘why do those that name sound familiar?’, or perhaps it was the pacing of my words that confused him, bet either way he quickly retreated into the back offices. Behind the closed doors I could hear murmuring of several voices including a definite female voice. After a few moments the doors swung open.

“Tristan, darling,” the large woman said, “how is it that we’ve gone this long without meeting?”

Nylaria Absalee was amazingly quick and graceful for someone her size and she quickly glided around the counter and swooped in on me and despite the fact that I was levitating half a foot above the ground she was easily able to kiss me on both cheeks.

“I knew your grandfather darling,” she said, draping a massive arm around my shoulders, “He was a big supporter of the arts. Why it was in this very hall where he met your grandmother. Such a shame what happened to them. They used to drag your father along to shows when he was about your age. You never knew them I wager. All that business was a lifetime ago. Back when I was on stage. Why you must just be in your twenties now . . .”

“I’m eighteen,” I said.

“My goodness, darling you’re still a baby!” she said with a laugh, “How did you ever captain a ship at such a young age? I’ve been reading your stories darling; everyone is, you might have a future as a writer. Have you ever considered writing opera?”

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about . . .”

“Oh heavens,” she laughed, “you wouldn’t write the music, nobody does that these days. It’s just not fashionable, no we get a few ghost writers to tidy up the script and compose the music and lyrics, and you sign your name to it and suddenly we have ‘The Sea Wyvern’s Flight’ or ‘Towards the Darkness’ or better yet, I’ll find some famous composer and have them sign their name to it. Then we add inspired by the diaries of Tristan Lidu to the posters and no one goes in sceptical about your musical talents. I’d pay you a share of the profits . . .”

“A kind offer,” I tried to say when the woman slowed, “but . . .”

“As I said simply everyone is reading this diary darling,” she continued, “hearing that you fought off those Crimson Fleet dogs over in that colony certainly got everyone here excited. We simply love to hear of them getting trounced. But now everyone is eagerly waiting for those accounts to be published in your diaries. Tell me though, one girl to another, does this tale have a romantic lead? Someone from the merchant district perhaps?”

I almost choked till it occurred to me she was talking about Kale.

“No, nothing of that sort,” I quickly added.

“Oh well,” she said with a sigh, “unrequited love makes for much better theatre. People love a tragedy. Which reminds me, you said that Lavinia Vanderboren would be accompanying you tonight? Poor dear, I knew her parents as well. It’s wonderful to see her doing so well in light of everything that’s happened, I’m sure she’s quite lucky to have a friend such as yourself.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“So you were hoping to catch tonight’s show?”

“Yes . . .”

“The Witch of Perrenland,” she said, “very popular tale with the ladies. It’s loosely based on events up north in Perrenland. I think you’ll enjoy it. Also, darling, I’d be honoured if you and the young Miss Vanderboren would be my guests tonight. I’ll tell the door man to be expecting you. I’ve already invited other guests, and I’d hate to overcrowd, but you’re only hear for the one night, and so many don’t show you know darling. Others arrive fashionably late, it’s a nightmare darling, but we’ll find room for everyone.

“Now if you’ll excuse me darling I have business to attend too, we’re reading through a new play from Cauldron, but I can’t give you any spoilers. Okay just one: there’s a dragon in it. I’m not sure how we’re going to stage it yet but the writing is simply fantastic. “

. . .

I met Lavinia at her place. Her home was still more or less boarded up but Lavinia had borrowed workers from the estates of family friends and had taken down the planks from the front rooms at least. Much of the furniture had been left behind but anything of value had been shifted to her vault under the castle. Lavinia had kept a few dresses in her house though, gowns that were far too fancy to wear on the Isle of Dread, but costumes well suited for attending plays. I marvelled at the blue silk number she chose. Simple, understated, and Lavinia was able to pull it off flawlessly. I in turn wore my Lidu gown that I had traded with the gaunt man for. Despite the wealth and power my trappings carried I felt Lavinia looked more the part of a noble.

She had arranged for a carriage. We had a light supper (so as to not get drowsy before the play was done) and despite my knowledge of how these things worked, arrived early. I was simply unable to idle away the time and Lavinia, sensing my discomfort, decided that we could break protocol and spend time looking through the great opera house.

When we arrived we discovered the staff in a panic. It seems that mistress Absalee had more guests then seats in her private box, and worse still, most had confirmed their invitations. We were the first to arrive but it seemed likely that many more would be arriving and extra seats were being sought. We excused ourselves from the chaos and walked the opera house. We admired the artwork the lobbies and smoking rooms, marvelled at the great crystal chandelier, and shared a private moment behind one of the rich velvet curtains. Despite the excitement and thrill of attending the opera with the woman I loved I was beginning to think that we might have more fun together away from prying eyes. I briefly considered retiring before the opera even began but thankfully fate had other ideas.

General seating had already taken place and the opening aria had just started when we returned to the main hall, the ushers were still trying to juggle the seating, when practically ran into Anwyn Arabani. She was every bit as beautiful as I remember, at first she seemed annoyed at the intrusion, but then she caught sight of Lavinia:

“Lavinia Vanderboren?” She asked, “I haven’t seen you since . . . well since that unpleasantness with your family. Come with me, we should talk . . .”

It turns out that Anwyn and Lavinia knew each other, her niece and Lavinia had gone to the same finishing school and Mistress Arabani and the Vanderborens had been more than just acquaintances. I of course tried to follow the conversation but Anwyn had Lavinia by the arm and spoke in hushed tones. Plus Anwyn had been the subject of an early childhood crush and I found myself rather tongue tied. I simply couldn’t insert myself into the conversation. It was just as well, with the words twisted so much in my mouth as of late I wouldn’t dare speak with such a fetching stranger out of fear of offending her. I did catch snippets of their conversation:

She had been made aware of seating fiasco, and well she had initially intended to do nothing (the Mistress of the opera house having gotten on the half drow’s bad side at some point) she hadn’t known then that Lavinia and I were among the overbooked. She graciously invited us to her box which was practically uninhabited for the evening. Anwyn explained that while she never misses a show she detested watching alone and it seemed that one of her suitors had just cancelled on her, or perhaps it was the other way around? I struggled to hear. I did understand from what I’d overheard that she had intended to stay long enough to be seen (perhaps to show her scorn or disgust) and then leave. We were more than happy to accept her invitation.

There was seating for six in the small booth. The view wasn’t particularly the best, but the sound was incredible, we were almost above the pit! You couldn’t see much of the stage or the set designs but the singers were just below us and we could hear every note perfectly. In the darkness I found Lavinia’s hand and held it tight.

. . .

It was close to the witching hour when she finally returned. I should have been in Farshore already, Lavinia would worry, but I needed to do this. I needed to confront this woman and I needed to do it on my own terms. If I waited to think things through I might never find the courage to do it.

“Hello mother,” I said as she stepped into the room.

“Hello Tristan,” she said without turning. I was invisible if she didn’t look the effect of not seeing me would be ruined. “Your great uncle won’t like people sneaking into the house even if you are family.”

“I know what you are,” I said trying to illicit some emotion from her, “I know what you did.”

“Do you now?” she asked without looking, “and what would this be then? I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”

I had a sudden fear of other crimes this woman might have committed. Suddenly just being a member of the Scarlet Brotherhood didn’t seem so horrible. Had she killed others here? Freeing us from the Sea Princes had been murder but it had been justified murder. If she was capable of treason and murder what else could she be capable of?

“I know you’re a member of the Scarlet Brotherhood,” I finally said, “I know you’re treasonous to the people of Sasserine . . .”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about Tristan,” mother said, “you’ve heard something you didn’t like and now you’re intent on jumping to conclusions.”

“Then you’re not a member of the scarlet brotherhood?” I asked.

“Oh no,” Mother said, turning to face me, or to at least stare at where my voice was coming from, “I am a brotherhood assassin, of the highest rank, and given the order I would kill anyone my masters asked me too.”

“How could you . . .” I asked, “I loved you, but you’ve betrayed . . .”

“Who have I betrayed?” Mother said a strange edge in her voice, “this city was founded by the pure blooded Suloise, it is a city that was once ruled by the noble blood, Lady Sasserine gave her life for her people, and yet somehow mongrels and half breeds have been allowed to take over our city. This city should have been our birthright but your ancestors gave it all away.”

“You’re racist monster. You and your kind exemplify everything I despise about my blood. I’ve studied history mother, we invited the rain of colourless fire through our cruelty and our hubris, not a single nation or people felt sorry for us, and the brotherhood would invite such destruction again!”

“Was that an attempt to make me mad?” she asked, “to make me lose my temper? My emotions run much deeper than that my dear. Doing what I was trained to do requires absolute calm and detachment. Perhaps you thought you could strike me down once I attacked you but I’m afraid that just won’t work. If you’ve come to kill your mother then you’ll have to do it in cold blood.”

“What?” I whispered, I wasn’t sure what I’d hoped to gain through this confrontation but my mother’s death wasn’t on that list, “I don’t want to kill you, I want answers . . .”

“You sneak into the house invisibly and wait till I’m alone to confront me? What answers did you think I was going to give?”

“Why not tell me why you joined the brotherhood?”

“Ah,” she said with a now cruel seeming smile on her lips, “that wasn’t something I chose. And unlike your carefree youth mine was spent preparing for a single task, knowing that if I failed death would have been the best I could hope for.”

“Why not quit then,” I said, “we could purge the brotherhood from the city.”

“And why would I switch allegiances so quickly?” she asked.

“Because I’m your daughter . . .”

“Yes,” mother said, “and that means you should obey me not the other way around.”

“Because I love . . .”

“Let me tell you a little something about love. Your father isn’t the only one who knows how to consult oracles, I found my own soothsayer when I was given to your father. I wanted to know what would happen to me, if my mission would succeed, but the idiot only talked about you, your life, how my daughter would shake the world. If she lived. He felt the need to add that little tidbit. As an assassin I know hundreds of ways to end life, thousands of little babies are still born every year, how easy it would have been to end that little kicking thing inside me. A sip of white lotus milk for example and you wouldn’t have been born. I had a job to do and having you squirming around inside me would have made that impossible but against my better judgment I let you grow inside me. A pregnant woman is very inconspicuous I reasoned.

“Then when you were out . . . well the soothsayer also said you’d break my heart. How could I allow such a pathetic little thing to hurt me? Physical pain I’ve endured. But emotional pain? I’ve seen it make assassins go bad. Suddenly you start caring about your mark. That’s the kind of weakness the brotherhood can’t stand. I’ve steeled myself over the years, never shown an ounce of pain or fear, and never allowed weakness into my heart and you now suddenly you would have destroyed all that? I stood over you with a pillow one night, I could have smothered you in your crib, but I didn’t Tristan. Perhaps it’s because I wanted to know the kind of woman you’d become, but like the little parasite that you are, you’ve wormed your way back inside of me. When you cry at night something inside of me wants to cry too. Wants to comfort you. But that’s weakness. That’s death.

“So,” she practically spat, “before you dare speak to me about love you think about everything I’ve given up raising you. Think of the advancements I could have had. Think of the targets I could have taken. I could have traveled, after my last assignment I had stock and value with the brotherhood but for the last dozen years I’ve lingered. Why? Because you and your sisters needed me. You think I wanted to be a wet nurse? Like everything else in life I suffered through it because I had too. No one else was going to look after you, and if I’d sent you home to my people . . . well that is not the life you or your sisters deserved. You think giving up my past is easy? I’ve paid for that past. I’ve suffered for that past. I’m what I am and I will not change. I gave you life, I gave you choices, but I’m not sacrificing any more to make you happy. You can despise me if you want, better yet you can try to kill me, but don’t you dare ask any more of me.”

I allowed myself to become visible. I wanted to steel myself like my mother. To cover the emotions but it would have been a lie. I knew there were tears streaming down my face but I didn’t care.

“How can I ever trust you?” I asked, “should I advance in the Dawn Counsel?”

“You can’t Tristan,” she said, meeting my eyes, “If you learn any lesson from this it’s that you can’t trust anyone. The brotherhood has it’s minions everywhere. Should you oppose the brotherhood they will try to eliminate you, and if I am ordered to, I will try to kill. You’re a powerful mage now, perhaps I’d even fail, but I’d try and you’d need to kill me.”

“Who gives you your orders?” I asked.

“I won’t tell you that. It’s not something I’d reveal under torture either. Besides if he should die then another would take his place. There’s always someone to give the commands.”

“Then what do we do then?” I asked, “I don’t want to hurt you but I can’t allow you to threaten myself or our family head. What do we do?”

“I see only three choices,” mother said in exasperated voice, the one she used when she felt one of us was being silly or simply not trying, “We kill each other, you submit to the brotherhood, or we continue to walk the tightrope and pray the hammer never falls. Those are our choices. For what it’s worth I’d prefer one of the first two choices.”

“What about the fourth option?” I asked feeling numb, “I decimate your organization killing every covert agent you have but sparing the exposed agents. It sends the message to your superiors that their duplicity won’t be tolerated but that we’re still willing to bargain if they continue to deal out in the open.”

“Amusing Tristan,” mother said, “but not something you’re capable of pulling off. The brotherhood excels at stealth and espionage. There’s not a move you can make that they can’t anticipate. ”

“I learned about your involvement with the brotherhood five days ago,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “and I knew you’d have a handler, but I wasn’t sure how often he’d contact you. I summoned an elder gnode to follow you to see if I could discover who it was. You wouldn’t have seen the monster, it’s naturally invisible and completely incorporeal and not at all of this world, but you would have felt the thing gnawing away at your emotions. It doesn’t understand language or shapes very well but it tastes and feels emotions better then we can see or hear. You made a pick up, your instructions I assume, but your master’s thoughts were still on the letter. The gnode was able follow the trail back to your master.”

Mother’s face was blank, but seeing as she had nothing to say I continued.

“Tell me about Gerialar Divalean mother,” I said, “Tell me about Alma Telvanta. Anteki Alresian is a joke but the other two pull your strings. I suspect that there’s another above them but for now I’m happy crippling your organization.”

“This isn’t a game Tristan,” Mother finally said, I saw the pause before she spoke, as if she were trying to steady herself, “They’ll demand blood, if you’re right they can’t allow their identities to be known. You might think you’re playing a clever little game here Tristan but these are dangerous people. When word gets back . . .”

“Word isn’t going to get back,” I said, “There’s no one for it to get back too. We had a score to settle with Alma from way back. Seems one of her assassins tried to kill us. Technically it was Kellani that hired her, but she trained her. And Gerialar was a cold blooded killer. As well as being the one who ran the brotherhood behind the scenes it was he that organized the murder of Keltar Islaran. We’ve already dealt with them mother, I couldn’t risk having you warn them, but when your new master contacts you, tell them that murders and assassins won’t be tolerated in Sasserine. Also tell them that the next time they build a secret lair to house their monks and assassins that sound proofing works both ways. Be well mother. I doubt we’ll see each other again.”

I activated my ring and then silently levitated away. I waited a moment, to see if my words would register an inkling of emotion through that facade, but I now wish that I hadn’t. Every moment of smug satisfaction I thought I might have left in an instant as my mother fell to her knees . . . and started to cry. I felt like I’d been stabbed in the guts and I didn’t know why. My whole life I can’t recall her so much as laughing or shedding a single tear but there, in front of me, she started bawling like a baby. I couldn’t understand why. I felt like a monster to have done that to my mother. Worse I couldn’t find the courage to comfort her. I silently left her.

I should have stayed, I should have comforted her, but I didn’t.

I am a monster. I am a demon,
Cthulhu dreams

I found Smarnil in the temple. He knelt at the shine of Wee Jas, apparently deep in prayer as he didn’t even seem to notice me as I approached. I’d avoided him for quite some time, and although I still wasn’t certain what I could say to him, I knew I needed to say something. I needed to apologize for avoiding him, I needed to apologize for any sacrilegious remarks I may have made, and I needed to take steps to ensure that there would be peace between us again. Perhaps I should promise him a temple?

“Hello father,” I said, “do you have a moment?”

Smarnil didn’t even turn. He didn’t seem startled. The man was perfectly calm.

“Greetings Tristan,” he said looking to the shrine of Wee Jas, “peace be with you.”

“And also with you,” I said formulaically, “I’ve come to talk about what happened the other day.”

With my promises to Annah I knew I couldn’t discuss the Green Lady. This would make this apology that much more difficult. I could only hope that Smarnil didn’t see me as some fiendish little trickster who was having fun at his expense.

“I’m sorry,” Smarnil said before I could properly apologize myself, “I did know you’d return. I’m sorry if I gave you cause to doubt.”

“No father,” I said, “I’m not . . . you have it wrong, I’m Tristan Lidu, nobody else, and I’m sorry if I made you feel I was someone else. I sometimes have trouble speaking you see, the words get twisted, and what came out of my mouth that day was just some jumbled up verbiage. I’m sorry if I offended you in any way. I’ve already earned a very strict penance from the High Magnus, but I would understand if you thought I deserved more.”

“You’ve been talking to Annah?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “and I’ve promised never to speak about that thing which you once . . . that person that you once believed in. I said that I would never speak of her again.”

“That is probably very wise,” Smarnil said, “I believe I’d have advised you to do the same.”

“So we’re in agreement then,” I said, “everything can go back to the way it was.”

“I’m sorry,” Smarnil said, quickly standing and turning to face me, “but you are wrong.”

“Excuse me?” I said, wondering what I’d been wrong about.

“You said that you are not her,” Smarnil said, “that you’re nobody else, that those words didn’t mean anything, but I know better Tristan Lidu. You are not she, you are a different person, and yet you are the same. We’ve been searching the world for you and yet when you appeared right before my eyes I couldn’t even recognise you.”

“No father,” I pleaded, “you’re wrong. My mind plays ticks. I probably read those words somewhere; it popped out completely by accident. Please let’s forget the whole affair.”

“You look and sound so different,” he said, “and yet . . . and yet you are so much like her my heart aches. I doubted you. When I found no signs in Sasserine . . . I checked the registry you see, no Suloise children were born on that night, but I should have guessed that Annah or one of her acolytes was one step ahead of me. That is a very dangerous sign. Children born under it will be hunted by those that remember the old ways. The stars line up every century or so and only in very specific locations do they line up perfectly. I should have been in Sasserine sooner, we knew from our charts that the next instance would be somewhere over the Amedio jungle, but Sasserine wasn’t on anyone’s charts at the time. Last we heard the lady Sasserine had died fighting some great dragon. By the time I got there . . . forgive me, I would have guided you if I could have . . . it’s the least I could have done . . .”

“Smarnil what are you talking about?” I asked, but I felt something in the pit of my stomach, as if I knew something horrible had happened, “you’re talking like you knew her or something, like you’ve . . .”

“You don’t have her memories,” Smarnil whispered, “you don’t remember, but I remember you. I was, still am, a half breed, not a full Suloise, but you’ve always treated me like any other acolyte. You asked for my opinions and listened to my advise, even though you were noble born, even though a half breed like me wasn’t fit, in the eyes of many, to even walk in your shadow. It should have been me that took that assassin’s arrow. May Vecna be ground to dust. I know you don’t remember me but it is I Smarnil le couard, your most humble servant . . .”

With those words Smarnil removed his holy symbol and instantly his visage changed. His black hair became wispy white. His olive skin became pale and sunken. His body seemed to instantly drain of youth and vitality. He now looked hollow like all the life and joy had been sucked out of him. His robes hung off of his whisper thin body. He was skin and bone. I knew instantly that Smarnil was dead. The holy symbol had given him the illusion of life but now only his eyes remained the same. Those shockingly pale blue eyes.

“I shall advise you in whatever way I can,” he whispered, even his voice sounded different, now sounding of dust and bone, I heard the rasp of his lungs as he sucked in air to speak, “if you’ll have me.”

“Smarnil what have you done?” I managed to say, for some reason I felt revulsion not fear, “you’ve broken holy law. Your soul belongs to Wee Jas!”

“It still does,” he whispered in the old tongue, “but because I’m not a pure blood Wee Jas won’t mind if I animate these bones and keep it a while longer. I must tend her most holy of living servants.”

“All this time?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I was speaking in the old tongue as well, “you’ve waited all this time for someone, something that might never come?”

“There was much to do,” Smarnil whispered, “we had a flock to take care of, Vecna’s forces were still in the area, and then after Kas and Vecna clashed there was the rebuilding. We needed to protect your tomb, grave robbers from all over, but mainly Greyhawk, began picking over the cairns in the area. We kept watching for signs of the Age of Worms, you said that you wouldn’t return until after the Age of Worms, and there were many false signs. We kept the sect alive as we promised you, knowing your prophecy that the heroes would rise from the shadows of your tomb. Then, a few years ago, things seemed to accelerate, you appeared in a dream and suddenly our numbers swelled. We had over forty when Kyuss returned and it was actually two of our flock who battled the worm that walks. Lyssa helped and even traveled with wizard priest Virgil, I fear she’s his servant now, and Amariss mentored the cleric Blane. When they hear that . . .”

“No,” I found myself saying, “They mustn’t be told. They have their own lives now and can’t be asked to save the world again. I never asked for you to wait for me. Those words were meant to comfort you. It was a mistake for me to tell you. I must handle this on my own.”

I felt dizzy. For a moment I felt as though I might collapse.

“You are correct,” Smarnil whispered, “they’re needed in the north, Alhaster and the bandit kingdoms, Iuz, they need to spread law and order there. But tell me, this enemy, this prince of demons, have you had any visions? Any dreams?”

“No,” I said with a voice that didn’t feel like my own, “not about him, but I’ve had glimmers of something else. This will be my last incarnation. The fragments are forming into one. But Smarnil, how is it that I live again so soon? The Age of Worms only just averted.”

“You’ve never been good at interpreting your own visions,” he said with a hissing sound that might have been a laugh, “you didn’t say you’d be born after the Age of Worms, you said that you’d appear. You earned the Spire of Sasserine almost to the day that the unlife vortex appeared over Alhaster. It was months after the Wormfall Festival that we first met. I’ve had quite a long time to think about your prophecies and contemplate the wording.

“When I discovered Sasserine quite suddenly a few years back I thought it must be a sign. ‘Look for a city to the south the bears the name of one of her faithful,’ you’d said, but for the longest time all we had was Hardby. We explored looking for other possibilities. And then, quite suddenly, Amariss stumbled across a name none of us had heard for centuries: Sasserine. She’d left our sect to build a great spire in the south but years later word came back that she had died. Her city appeared on maps for a time but then it just disappeared. Reclaimed by the jungle we’d assumed.

“When it reappeared quite suddenly I was sent immediately. I needed to blend in . . . become a trusted member of the faith. For love of you I was forced to renounce you. I hoped that you could forgive the lies I needed to tell, I hoped that the sacrifices I’d already made would be enough, but I needed to become a member of the flock again. Years passed before I was able to look over the birth records. I knew the stars had been right, and with the age of worms apparently in full swing I knew there was a strong possibility Wee Jas would see fit to call upon you again. But when I found nothing I have to admit I felt despair. Waiting is easy when you have goals in mind but when the age of worms had come and gone . . . knowing that it would be a full one hundred and three years before the stars would line up again, and that would be in the north, I stopped looking, thinking that it would be a long time before I saw you again.”

“Who did this,” I asked, grabbing hold of Smarnil’s jaw, “who’s idea?”

“When you died we all wanted revenge,” Smarnil whispered, “those that had been with you during those torturous last few days . . . the ones that saw that poison eat you from the inside out, well we wanted revenge especially. Amariss tried to keep us together but she had no hold over the Flan. Lyssa and Hetta half-heartedly tried to calm everyone but I suspect that they wanted revenge as well. Our own people had seen so much death and destruction; this final blow almost took the life out of them. There were many that wanted to die with you . . . but Amariss read your last prophecies to them . . . It was your lover that came on the idea, but I suspect that the process was revealed to her by Amariss. We knew it was a sin to animate the pure bloods, to rob that which belongs to Wee Jas, but Amariss and I were half-breeds. Lyssa and Morrik demanded the right to join us . . . we . . . forgive us Mab . . .”

The room was spinning. I remembered people I shouldn’t have. I saw faces of people who should have been dust. And that name. My mothers name. But it had once been mine.

“It is not what I wanted for you Smarnil,” I felt myself say, I felt tears in my eyes, “you suffered in my care, I wanted you to feel peace is the Lady’s embrace. She would have crafted you a beautiful Suloise body . . .”

“Mab,” Smarnil asked suddenly looking into my eyes, “are you really there? Do you remember?”

For a brief moment I felt I did remember everything. The prophecies. The doubts. The mountains. The burning. Pain. Death. Suffering. But there was also joy, happiness, love. Tears washed away with kisses. I had been a saviour of my people. Wee Jas’ will had been done. And that life was done. The room suddenly became black.

I woke to find Smarnil leaning over me.

“Tristan,” he said, running his hands through my hair, “you fainted. Are you alright? Have you been getting enough to eat?”

The priest looked very much alive. He breathed, his nostrils flared, his hands felt warm, his voice sounded rich and inviting. His eyes blinked like a living creature’s should. Had I dreamt the whole thing?

“I think I might have skipped breakfast and lunch,” I whispered, I felt tired, mentally and physically, “I think I’ll be alright.”

I tried to sit up but the room suddenly began spinning again. I fell back and Smarnil caught me.

“I think you’d better lie down for a bit longer,” he said, “I’ll have Lavinia send someone over to get you back home.”

I fought to remember something concrete about the dream that could prove to me that it had been real. That it had happened. But nothing came to mind.

Then I saw Smarnil’s holy symbol poking out from his robes.

“That’s a beautiful holy symbol,” I whispered, “is it old?”

I held out my hand, feebly trying to grasp at it, but Smarnil quickly tucked it away.

“Yes,” he said, “quite old, and very dear to me. Someday I trust I’ll have the opportunity to tell you exactly how dear, but for now I want you to rest. I’m going to get someone to carry you back to Lavinia’s place. You’re spreading yourself too thin Tristan. People will look to you. You’re of the old blood. Noble born. You need to act according to your station. You need to learn to share responsibility, to let others step up, the Goddess needs you strong and healthy for what is to come.”

I nodded and closed my eyes. When I woke I was in Lavinia's bed.

“So you finally dare to show your face,” Worrin snarled as I entered, I had hoped that his foul mood would have abated somewhat, but it appeared he still had some bile left.

“I only just discovered . . .”

“You only just discovered that you’re writing a newspaper article?” Worrin snapped, “That you’ve only just discovered that for the past few months that you’ve been sharing state secrets with the general public?”

“No,” I quickly added, “I forgot about that I’d left in the business with the shadow pearls in. At the time I thought there might only be a couple – that we’d contained them all, but now I realize that the matter is far more serious. I’m sorry for making your job that much more difficult Great Uncle Worrin.”

“You will of course end this business,” Worrin said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he returned to his papers.

“I won’t,” I found the courage to say.

“What?” he demanded, his eyes snapping back up at me, “You would dare to defy me? I will not have the family name sullied! Writing for a newspaper? That’s one step below playwright! You might as well take a job as a common labourer.”

“I’ve given permission for them to use excepts from my journal in an attempt to garner interest in Farshore.”

“I don’t care why you’ve done it,” Worrin said, “I want it ended.”

“I have a responsibility to Sasserine,” I said, “as a member of the Dawn Council, and I have to do whatever I can to see the fledgling colony of Farshore succeed.”

“Don’t you dare play that card with me Tristan,” Worrin snapped, “my life is responsibility. The Lidu name is my responsibility. This city is my responsibility! How dare you pretend that you’re doing this for anything other personal reasons.”

“We need people,” I snapped, “Sasserine needs to spread its influence if it’s to succeed against its enemies. Farshore could be a fantastic source of wealth for Sasserine but we need people to secure and work its lands. Now in a few weeks time a shipment from Farshore will arrive back in Sasserine and we intend to bolster our position with supplies and more settlers.”

“And soiling the Lidu name accomplishes this exactly how?” Uncle Worrin asked.

“I’m not good at speaking,” I said, “I don’t really inspire people, but I can research and I can write. I know newspapers aren’t exactly bastions of truth or literature but it’s the medium that I have that has the best chance of reaching the most people. I’d have preferred if someone else had done it but there is no one else only me!”

“That’s why you use the Dawn Council, you hire town criers, you put up notices, but you don’t publish your exploits. You’ll stop publishing them or I’ll . . .”

“Or you’ll what?” I asked, jumping on the pause, “you’ll disown me? I’m very grateful for the education but the only thing this name has brought me is trouble.”

“You ungrateful . . .”

“No!” I snapped before I could control myself, “I am grateful for the education, I just said I was, but I’m sick and tired of all the meddling! Everyone else at my graduation ceremony was scouted by the witchwardens and yet mysteriously I, top of my class and youngest graduate ever, was passed over! I wasn’t even asked what sort of job I wanted I was just shipped off to Blenak’s. I could have been a black dagger by now! Also I wasn’t immediately given a place on the Dawn council. I wonder who fought against me joining their? I’ve had to fight for everything I ever got! And nothing I do is good enough for you! Everything is about tearing me down, well fine you want to take my name take it! It’s the only thing left you can take from me now so just take it and be done with it!”

I wish my voice carried the same weight as my words. Tears crept into my voice and I was forced to turn away so my uncle couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. What a horrible time for silly emotions to sneak into things.

“I have always tried to protect you Tristan,” Worrin said.

“You’ve got a fine way of protecting,” I spat back at him. Unfortunately my eyes were still misbehaving and I kept my back to him as I fought to stem the seepage.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Worrin grumbled, “you’re too young. You have no idea what needs to be done to . . .”

“Protect the city?” I snapped as I turned back to face him, “maybe I don’t know, maybe . . . but I do know this: I would never have allowed the Scarlet Brotherhood into my city. They are our traditional enemies Uncle, they’re the enemies of free men everywhere! People say you’re weak and an ineffective leader and this is why! You want to point out my shortcomings but explain to me how it is that you could have let that happen?!”

I half expected Worrin to snap at that. I’d challenged his leadership but he simply sat back in his chair and tented his fingers.

“You really hate the Scarlet Brotherhood don’t you?”

“They are a blight on the Suloise people,” I said, “well the rest of us have strived to change our cruel and merciless ways they continue to give the rest of us a bad name. As long as they exist people will continue to fear and be suspicious of us. I want them destroyed. I hate slavers. Besides they’re the traditional enemies of Sasserine. Now that we’ve broken free of the Sea Princes we must continue to resist the Brotherhood’s influence.”

“And what would you have had me done?” he asked, he seemed more teacher then tyrant at the moment.

“Send them out,” I said, “banish them.”

“And if they came back in force?”

“Then we fight them off, as we always have, as we shall always continue to do.”

“I fear Tristan that they have greater power in this region, perhaps more then Sasserine can resist,” Worrin said, “they seem to be moving away from war though, they’re trying to advance their causes through subversion, and so should we encourage them back into military action? Are you so doubtful of Sasserine’s people that you fear that they’ll be swayed by the brotherhood’s sweet sounding lies?”

“No,” I said, “but I wouldn’t have had them in the city at all. They don’t deserve the foothold.”

“How much do you remember of that night?” Great Uncle Worrin asked, speaking of course of when the Sea Princes fell, “Now that you’re older I feel that you might be entitled to hear some of the details.”

“Not much,” I said, “I was only five or six. I think I was in your library . . .”

“You realize that it was the Scarlet Brotherhood that assassinated the last of the Sea Prince governors.”

“That’s just a precursor to what they’ll do here if we allow them this foot hold . . .”

“Undoubtedly,” great uncle Worrin said, “but if they strike here it will be the seven members of the dawn council that need to be removed. I have no doubts that I would be the first.”

“If they did that I would deal the Scarlet Brotherhood such a blow . . .” I felt the anger well up inside of me.

“And what good would that do?” Worrin asked, “the strength of Sasserine is now in the hands of it’s people rather then a king. You’re letting your anger . . . wait, how would you deal them such a blow?”

“Not all of the shadows pearls were destroyed,” I said, “if one were set off in their capital . . .”

Great uncle Worrin’s eyes went wide, “Tristan how could you think of such a thing?”

“I would do what needed to be done for Sasserine,” I said, “although the loss of innocent life would be unbearable to me, although such an action would haunt me till the day I died, I couldn’t allow their evil to go unchecked . . .”

“You would re-enact the rain of colourless fire?” Worrin asked, “bringing death to the young and innocent . . .”

“Not willingly,” I said, “but if they force my hand . . .”

“That is not a sufficient reason to slaughter thousands of people,” Worrin snapped, “war and violence is always the last resort. My death would mean nothing as long as Sasserine endured. That’s my legacy to the city. Seeing that you stop besmirching our name is my legacy to you and my family.”

“So what happened then?” I asked, “in the city I mean. I thought I heard a story that my father played a role in liberating the city.”

“Yes,” Worrin said with a sigh, “a far greater role then you realize. A far greater role then even I realized at the time. When the Brotherhood struck the Sea Princes to the north Sasserine remained isolated and although their grip here was tenuous, it was still firm enough, and the governor was a distant blood relative of one of the late rulers of the Sea Princes holdings. There was a thought that he might be able to consolidate power here and somehow return to power far to the north.

“He was naturally paranoid though,” Worrin said, “the Castle was practically sealed off, no one got in or out, and the man very quickly began alienating his supporters here while he waited for forces from the north. It was only a matter of time before things fell apart. But then he was killed like the rest of his kin. Thankfully we had been organizing things behind the scenes, we quickly organized the first meeting of the Dawn Council in those first few chaotic hours after word broke, and without a leader or anything worth fighting for the Castle and the remains of the garrison surrendered without a fight. We might have been able to reclaim the city without the Brotherhood’s assassin but the assassin did speed things along.”

“So what role did my father play?” I asked.

“The city was under lockdown,” Worrin said, “no one got in or out. The governor was terrified of assassins. Anyone caught leaving or entering the city was hung without a trial. However after months of this insane lockdown the city was growing restless. That fateful night the governor had a party to rally support amongst those still loyal to him. Your father was someone the governor thought he could trust and thus he was invited. Tristan your father was the one who smuggled in the Scarlet Brotherhood assassin.”

I felt queasy. My father had never been an important part of my life but learning that he was working with the scarlet brotherhood took the floor out from under me. I found myself almost falling into one of great uncle Worrin’s chairs.

“And now you know why your father was banished,” great uncle Worrin said after my head stopped swimming, “it was without my knowledge that he made contact with the brotherhood and it was certainly against my will that he assisted them.”

“After you knew . . . why did you let the brotherhood stay?”

“That is a rather complicated matter,” Worrin said, his voice almost sounded comforting, “I think we’ve discussed enough for today.”

“Then tell me how my father got the assassin inside,” I asked for some reason. Perhaps I was grasping at straws, searching to find some way redeem my father, perhaps I secretly hoped that he had been duped.

Worrin gave me an unreadable look. He seemed hesitant for some reason but finally his internal debate subsided and leaned forward.

“The first thing you must understand about our enemies the Scarlet Brotherhood is that they tend to plan well in advance. They like to create these things called sleeper agents. A brotherhood member moves into an area and blends in and becomes part of the city. They act perfectly normal and live perfectly ordinary lives until they’re activated. Sometimes they can lie in wait for decades. I don’t doubt there are some that have never been activated. But once activated they do whatever they’re trained and commanded to do. This assassin was already in Sasserine well in advance of the brotherhood’s attack on Sea Princes. She had gotten into a position of trust and I can honestly say that no one suspected her of being anything other then . . . all your father did was to walk her in through the front doors on his arm. Less then an hour later the governor was dead.”

“Wait . . .” I whispered, I suddenly felt dead inside, “are you saying that . . .”

“So you can imagine my quandary,” great uncle Worrin said, “I had a nephew that had been secretly dealing with the scarlet brotherhood and a scarlet brotherhood assassin all within my own house. I suppose I should have just banished the two of them, it would have been the sensible thing to do, but there were children in the mix, and one child in particular seemed quite brilliant, and that obviously complicated things. Do I send them all away? That would be like punishing the children for the sins of their parents. Do I take to the children and raise them away from their parents? Again that seemed particularly cruel. I also had to answer the question of what do I do with the scarlet brotherhood? They sent me envoys the moment the city opened up. Now that they had the claws into my family they weren’t just going to leave without taking something. Perhaps the price I’d pay was the deaths of my nephew and his family . . . it’s hard to imagine that they’d have let him live knowing that he hadn’t been bargaining with them in good faith.

“In the end I probably did the worst thing imaginable: I negotiated a treaty with the scarlet brotherhood and I split up my nephew’s family by sending the treacherous sw . . . fellow away. I figured that little girls need a mother more then a father, besides the lady had never lied to me, even after I confronted her afterwards, and an assassin with children is less dangerous then an assassin without. I probably made the wrong decision but heavy is the head that wears the crown. I’m sorry you had to hear this but it doesn’t change who you are. I’m hard on you sometimes because I want what’s best for you. Being a Lidu is about responsibility and sacrifice, I suspect that you’ll face more of that then I will ever know, but this doesn’t mean that I can let up on you. I would be a failure if I did.”

I felt the tears welling up and this time I made no effort to control them. I hated my father, I felt like I’d suddenly lost my mother, and now I despised my own weakness. I’d been a fool. I felt the emotion wash over me. I cried like a baby. Everything was going to be undone. How could I refuse great uncle Worrin’s demands now? I’d failed Lavinia and I’d failed myself.

“There, there Tristan,” Great uncle Worrin said, sounding uncomfortable, “this isn’t like you. I said it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change who you are. Please try to see this rationally . . .”

“You’re going to make me stop publishing in the paper!” I cried, “I’m a horrible failure. My fa-ther is a tra-der,” I tried to spit out those words with some venom but the crying was giving my hick-ups, “and my mo-ther is a-a mon-ster.”

“Tristan!” Great uncle Worrin snapped, “you stop crying this instant!”

Sadly that seemed to make me cry harder as now I felt upset about not being able to control my emotions. Hop-Toy tried to consol me as well but nothing seemed to work. Finally Worrin stepped out from behind his desk and awkwardly tried to comfort me. I pulled myself into his arms. I needed human comfort. I felt the emotion finally drain as Worrin hesitantly wrapped his arms around me.

“I expect better from you Tristan,” he whispered, “you’re going to be who the people look to. My sons might carry the name, but you’ll make empires tremble, they’ll sit as head of this household, but you will advice emperors. It will be you the people see. If it had been my granddaughter Gabriel or my grandson Zackary or even your own sister Zabrina that had been writing these articles I might even have been pleased. But you are my shining star, I want you to succeed, I need you to stop this business. I need you to have pride in your work. You should write theory, history, science, not cheap gutter gossip for a newspaper.”

“Have you read my work?” I asked, suddenly feeling a new emotion wash over me, “because it’s not gossip. It’s what happened. You hate newspapers so much then let’s just draft legislation to clean them up. Let’s hold them to a higher standard. People should be reading.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Worrin said releasing me from his hold, “You’re a scion of the Dawn Council, you’re free to suggest any proposals you’d like but this matter doesn’t change my feelings about your name being in them. I want you out of that paper.”

“Furthermore,” I said, “the news of the world should be in paper. These town criers are great for the town centre but people outside of the city need to understand what’s happening in the world. Sasserine is a metropolitan city now. We have liberal laws and a diverse population. You want people to be able to resist tyrants and oppressors? Well knowledge is the key. These papers should be allowed inside the courtrooms and the open sessions of the Dawn Council to report what transpires.”

“Now you’re going to far,” Great uncle Worrin warned, “I’m not going to . . .”

“Buffy once said that some infections can be cleared up with the light of day,” I said, suddenly finding something to grasp hold of, “this Scarlet Brotherhood is an infection! I’m going to write up some legislation tonight. You can expect to see it during the next sitting of the dawn council. Also I expect you’ll see Lavinia Vanderboren’s name and perhaps even Mantheley Meravanchy’s name tacked onto it.”

“Tristan,” great uncle Worrin muttered, “I want you to promise me that . . .”

“Well I’m off to Farshore,” I said kissing him on the cheek, “I have lots to take care of and I’ve got the scarlet brotherhood to crush.”

Great Uncle Worrin looked furious but I smiled as I teleported away. He’d said it himself, who my parents were didn’t change who I was, and I was Tristan Lidu. The world might one day tremble at my name but in the mean time I would run the scarlet brotherhood out of Sasserine. Not by force. Violence wouldn’t accomplish anything, I could see that now, but I intended to beat them at their own game. Sasserine would soon be an inhospitable climate for them to fester.

They’d taken my parents. I’d make them pay.

I was surprised that Annah consented to see me immediately. Important people often liked to show their significance by making by making you wait on them but the young acolyte summoned me right away. Perhaps this was a sign that I was becoming more prominent . . . but as I entered the High Magnus offices she extended her hand without bothering to stand or look up and I was forced to kneel and kiss her ring. I then remembered that there were other ways someone could flaunt their power.

“Rise young Lidu,” Annah eventually said, “what can I do for you.”

“I have some questions . . .” I said sitting in one of the red leather chairs, “of a religious nature . . .”

“Didn’t I send you a priest?” Annah said, not quite sounding annoyed, but she responded far too quickly to not have been slightly perturbed, “why don’t you ask him?”

“It’s about the Green Lady . . .” the priestess’ head snapped up at that, “I was wondering . . .”

“What has he told you?” Annah demanded.

“Nothing,” I said, “that’s the problem, I would like to know more about her but he refuses to speak about her. I suspect that he’s been ordered not to talk about her but I’d like to know more so I came to you.”

“That is a subject that is very dangerous,” Annah cautioned, “a subject that I’d only dare discuss with the churches top theologians, in private, and certainly not something I’d discuss with a young impressionable and impulsive child. You should forget that name and never speak it again. If I have to officially order you to drop it or censor you it won’t be good for either of us.”

“But we have a statue of her in the church,” I said, “how controversial could she be?”

“We most certainly do not,” Annah snapped, “that is simply another visage of Wee Jas . . .”

“I might have thought so as well,” I found myself saying, “but as an architectural student we were allowed to look over the original plans to the cathedral and while many of the other sub chambers and shrines were unnamed the statue to the Green Lady was named thusly, which felt odd because many of the other statures were commissioned . . .”

“Tristan I will warn you once more . . .”

“Then there is the telling accounts in the Lidu Histories, the Tylloniod Chronicles, and of course the very recent and uncensored accounts from the Age of Worms. I may not be a religious scholar but I am a scholar and a tenacious researcher with a memory like a steel trap. I pick up things in my studies that even I’m not aware of until I need them. For example did you know that Lady Sasserine and the Green Lady were contemporaries? Meaning they were both alive around the same time, though not necessarily the same age, in fact I believe that Lady Sasserine was a bit younger, and it is a well known fact that Lady Sasserine came from the north not the west . . .”

“The fact that the Green Lady existed is not the problem,” Annah cautiously added, “she most certainly did but the connection between her and Lady Sasserine is slim at best. The problem with the Green Lady is . . .”

“Her views are controversial,” I said for the High Magnus, “the fact that she believed in rebirth . . .”

“Now that,” Annah hissed, “is far enough! I will not stand hearing those words out of your mouth! I will give you such a penance for your defiance! You keep talking and I will . . .”

“You said it yourself,” I said, “I am a young impressionable youth, not heard to believe that I’d hear things and repeat them, and you, a High Magnus with one highly publicized failure to your name . . .”

Annah’s face went white, “How dare you,” she hissed, “I will not be blackmailed. I will have you excommunicated before I . . .”

“But I will follow orders and I want to obey you,” I said quickly moving around the desk to kneel at her side once again, “allow me to become your servant. I need your instruction. I need you to talk to me. But you need to know this isn’t simple curiosity, I need guidance, I’ve had visions,” I said before she could object, “I’ve seen things that I should never have seen or felt, I need to know if it’s my imagination or something else. I might be insane . . .”

Annah’s face changed, the anger seemed to vanish, “What are you talking about child?” she demanded taking my head into her bony claw like hands, “What visions?”

How I had gotten to this point was a marvel to me, I felt that I had been pulled along by a mysterious force, and only now did I feel fully in control. I hesitated, scared at how Annah might react to my visions, and unsure what I should share and what I should keep. I quickly decided to present a toned down version of the dream I experienced along that cliff face, I kept back the rhyming lady, the multiple lives, and I didn’t share the strange prophecies of the Green Lady I’d experienced in the dream. Amella had woke me before I’d dreamt anything significant anyways, I’d seen some strange things as the green lady, had known many other bits of information as well, but thankfully Amella had woken me before I’d experienced the entirely of those visions. I’d been prophesying about the Age of Worms you see. Somehow I knew that there were many other prophesies buried in her head. Thankfully Amella mistook the Green Lady’s voice as my own. Thankfully the Age of Worms was all I’d been mumbling about. Thankfully I hadn’t given voice to some of the fragments I remembered seeing in my sleep.

Annah stared at me for the longest time after I finished speaking. I hadn’t given her much but the details were precise. I’d stumbled over the words a bit but what I presented sounded surprisingly lucid. Annah sat and absorbed what I said. For a moment I feared that she wanted me to continue or that she somehow sensed that I hadn’t told her everything but thankfully it seemed she was only mulling it over.

“Tristan,” she finally said, “you must never share this with anyone.”

“Why?” I said, not that I had planned to, but I felt there was something she wasn’t telling me and I needed to know what it was, “they’re just silly dreams, unless something I’ve seen in them was true.”

“Listen to me child,” Annah said, “not everything makes logical sense and not everything can be rationalized out. Sometimes when someone tells you to do something even they don’t entirely know why they’re warning you. There are people in this church . . . perhaps this very order, who will not allow their faith to be questioned. There are those that would paint you as a heretic for reasons you might not even fully understand. Even the recognized saints of her temple have been called heretics by some . . .”

“Like the Green Lady?” I couldn’t help but ask. That was a mistake as Annah still held my head and suddenly she caught my ear in one of her cruel talons.

“That’s right,” she snapped giving my ear a savage twist, “you keep interrupting me, asking your insolent questions, being smart, I’m trying to help you young Lidu!”

I’d never had my ear twisted, I’d seen the move preformed before, but I was surprised and shocked to have someone do that to me! And not just because it hurt far more then I suspected it would. This was a move used on insolent children. I was no longer a child. I almost struck out. I thought about using my magics to escape but I knew my best move was to endure and be humble.

“I can see that,” I said through clenched teeth, “I can feel it as well . . .”

“Impertinent child,” The High Magnus snapped, ratcheting my ear further, “you’ve gained too much power too fast, you don’t understand the position you’re putting me into. You might be able to fend off an entire ship of crimson fleet pirates but you don’t understand what responsibility is like, you might understand looking out for yourself and your friends, but you can’t appreciate the larger picture. You have too much potential for me to allow you to throw it all away. I can protect you Tristan but I’m old and Wee Jas will call me one day soon, I have no intention of leaving you to run amuck. Let me ask you: do you intend to listen to me for a change?”

“Yes,” I managed without snarling.

“I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen,” the High Magnus said loosening her grip slightly, “When you were born your uncle . . . forgive me, your great uncle had me read your charts, it is family tradition, and it seems you were born under a very rare sign. Wee Jas’ own consolation was in the sky that night and Luna and Celene were both full. That is quite rare as Celene is only full four times a year, but there was also the red star rising, and Edill would have lined up with Luna. There were other factors as well, I’ll not go into the details, but as the stars go you were born on a very good night. Some say that the first priest of Wee Jas was born under that sign, that the undefeatable general and consort of Queen Neheli, victor of the Eight-House war, was born under those stars, as was at least one of the great queens of the Suel Imperium. But before you get a head of yourself with delusions and false hopes you should also note that there have been more then one notable failures having been born under this sign . . .”

I knew instantly who she was talking about. Somehow I knew the Green Lady had been born under this sign. She had died young, and in the eyes of some, hadn’t lived up to her true potential, but those others . . . Annah had been trying to dissuade me but I suddenly knew that I had been all of them. Everything suddenly clicked into place.

“The point being that you have great potential,” Annah continued, “it’s written in the stars, but if you keep acting they way you’ve been acting you might not live long enough to realise that potential. Right now no one knows who you are, no one will dig into your affairs, but if you seek out these meaningless conflicts, if you continue to accumulate enemies, if you continue to make waves, then at some point in the near future someone is going to look into your background and see your pedigree. Then, I suspect, more people will want you dead then alive. People like the status quo. Supposing that I knew a young babe was born under a powerful sign, supposing I knew she could be either a saviour or a scourge to my people, and then I suddenly discovered that she was asking questions that could send my church into chaos. Would history condemn me if I took steps to stop her?”

Annah suddenly released me. The High Magnus was old, frail, and yet in that moment she seemed a very tower of strength and power. I suddenly wasn’t sure if magic could best her as the living conduit of Wee Jas. Without the slightest show of strength I suddenly felt very humble at the feet of this woman.

“I have of course followed you over the years, discreetly of course (more then one of your instructors is loyal to the church after all), and I believe your heart is pure. You are a born and breed Lidu, you work hard and often put the needs of others ahead of your own. I’m sure given a rational argument you’d gladly accept my point of view and I suspect that even now you’d take my advice although I suspect that you’d question my motives. Which is good, because you shouldn’t take any advice from anyone without questioning motives. I don’t think you’d intentionally harm the church. I think you’d strive to prevent civil war. I think you’d do what’s best for Sassrine. You may raise young Lidu.”

I slowly stood, unsure of where this conversation was headed, but relatively certain that I had an ally in Annah. I struggled to understand how I’d gotten to this point though.

“I want you to promise me that you’ll never again talk about the Green Lady again,” Annah suddenly said as I regained my footing, “on your family name, on your ancestor’s grave. I don’t want you to speak of the Green Lady again.”

“I promise,” I said before I could stop myself, “I’ll never speak of her again . . . but I’ve already written much about her, in my diaries, please don’t make me destroy my writing . . .”

“You shall treat your writing like you would your voice,” the High Magnus ruled, “show them to no one, or if you continue this business of publishing them . . .”

My heart suddenly skipped a beat. The diary! The publisher! Annah pointed to a newspaper on her desk and I snatched it up without even thinking. There on the lower half of the paper was the journal of Tristan Lidu. A small wood cut characture of me glared out from the page with that insane emotionless smile. Another picture, larger and the focus of the piece, was of a navy battle and it told me in an instant that this entry was of my fight with Scarlet Brotherhood.

“I forgot about this,” I confessed, “but everything I submitted was heavily censored. I was using this to peak interest in . . . oh no! The shadow pearl! I . . .”

“Oh yes,” Annah said, quickly cutting me off, “that particular article was published weeks ago, both Lux and Worrin were furious, but Lux I was able to console with the notion that you were waging a PR war with the doubters in the tower by swaying public opinion. They might not believe in your mysterious shadow pearls but when concern was brought up in public meetings of the dawn counsel your uncle was forced to take action. The tower has now been officially requested to investigate this matter. Lux told me about the pearls you delivered the other day and had you not just confessed to having forgotten about these journals I’d think your timing was impeccable. As is fate seems to be working on your side.”

Annah sighed. She stood and turned her back to me, apparently looking over one of the wall tapestries, “Perhaps I’m loosing my touch, but I could have sworn you were an old hand at this game. Sadly you seem to be winning and you didn’t even know you’re playing. I suppose feigning ignorance could still all be a calculated move on your part but either way my choices are the same.

“Worrin was furious for other reasons of course,” the High Magnus said as she turned back to me, “and it took me much longer to calm him. Besides sharing the closed door meetings of the dawn council with the general public you’ve also gone and sullied the Lidu name. I fear he doesn’t like a Lidu writing for a newspaper. It’s not a respectable position. I fear you’re going to need to smooth relations there. I managed to talk him out of disowning you and little else.”

I hadn’t spoken with great uncle Worrin in a few weeks and so I didn’t know when exactly this had all unfolded but I didn’t relish the upcoming conversation. Publicly Great Uncle Worrin was mild tempered and conciliatory but privately he could be a tyrant and his temper . . . well he seldom lost it, especially with us children, but I’d heard that he’d lost it with my father, the details were never made clear to me, but since then my father rarely returned to Sassarine. I’d caught a glimpse of his temper once a few years back when Great Uncle Worrin was dealing with some silk merchant. I’d stopped by the offices to accept a small stipend he’d promised me, which was given in part as a reward for my grades and in part to pay for all the extracurricular activities I was involved with, but Great Uncle Worrin had someone else in his offices when I got there. The office door was slightly ajar and I could see that Great Uncle Worrin’s face was red. I’d never heard him yell at someone before and it was frightening. Thankfully Uncle Zob saw me in the hallway and ushered me away, giving me a few silver to buy a drink and a pastry, otherwise I might have stood transfixed in that hallway longer.

Great Uncle Worrin was a bit like Kale when I think about it. I wasn’t intimidated by Kale but Worrin still made me nervous at times. I suspect that it’s partly because I want his approval. I didn’t want Great Uncle Worrin to yell at me like he did that merchant.

“I’d better go see my great uncle,” I said to Annah, “I thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Tristan are you forgetting something?” Annah asked.

I had been moving towards the door but I turned towards Annah. I’m sure a there was a blank look on my face.

“Your penance?” Annah reminded me, “I trust you’ve not forgotten you impertinence already? Or perhaps you were simply playing lip service to your loyalty?”

“I am your humble servant,” I whispered.

“Good,” the High Magnus said, “because I intent to teach you a little civility one way or another . . .”

Warning: Today's Lidu Diary contains adult themes. I have decided to put it in spoilers so as to not offend anyone. In my opinion there isn't anything lewd or distasteful in this entry but I don't want to take any chances.

Today's Lidu entry behind the spoiler:

I was eighteen. The thought occurred to me as I dressed for this final confrontation. My Birthday had passed a few days ago. I was now an adult and would need to start acting accordingly.

There had been so much that I’d hoped to accomplish. Professionally I knew I’d already accomplished a great deal already, in my arcane studies I’d just gained access to the 7th sphere (something that is unheard of for anyone my age), I’d been awarded the spire of Sasserine, I was to be made a white dagger of the Witchwardens, I’d been named a high citizen of the Dawn Council, I’d been published, I’d captained a ship, I’ve helped run a successful election, I’d earned the respect of the oman people, and I’d help orchestrate the single greatest defeat the Crimson Fleet has ever suffered, but socially I was a failure. Many women my age were betrothed or actually married. I had cousins that already had children.

Strange thoughts to have before a battle.

My birthday, I realised, had been the day I’d stumbled across the brain collector. Their proper name is the Neh-Thalggu. They were more commonly called brain collectors in our tongue, but for some reason I’d thought of them as brain eaters. The entity known as Chimpman thought that was apt misinterpretation because in their own language there was little difference between the two words. Still, I would have liked to have marked the occasion in some way, but in truth I didn’t feel any different. I wish I did but I didn’t.

I was glad we’d returned to Farshore before attempting to delve into the pyramid. I had a feeling of apprehension today, like something horrible or monuments was going to happen, and I’d had my chance to say my good-byes to Lavinia should the unthinkable happen. I wanted to return to her yesterday but I’d promised her. We would finish this once and for all. I couldn’t return without fulfilling that promise. Besides I’d found the courage to ask her for a kiss . . . for luck I’d assured her. I turned at the last moment, like a coward, presenting my cheek to receive the kiss rather then my lips. I felt the urge to say more, to profess my feelings then, but how could I steel myself to do my duty should she invite me into her arms?

‘You should have told her then,’ Hop-Toy predictably interjected, it seemed he always had something to say when I thought of her as of late, ‘or else you should have finished off the pyramid yesterday. All these needless delays won’t make your task any easier. You need to make your feelings known. You think you can fool me by inventing reasons to delay or postpone but I know what you’re really up too.’

I decided not to argue with my familiar. He was right. I had delayed. Yesterday I decided that we’d need to wait for the water to drain. It seemed another pointless delay to Fredrick and perhaps he was right. After all opening the pyramid proved to be no problem (once we discovered all four pressure points that is), and four remaining Nagas that occupied the first room within only succeeded in earning my ire. Two of the fools blasted me with jets of flame. I fell back, dug into my haversack, and turned loose with the wand of fireballs that I’d liberated from Yaun-ti sorcerer. When I was finished the nagas were char . . . as well as the fleshy insides of the pyramid. We discovered that it was a faux pyramid, the veneer on the outside was stone, but the building itself was an ancient demon fish structure. After my savage beating the whole building had been left whimpering.

That’s what happens when you cheat and build with meat.

We discovered that the next layer had been flooded with water. I summoned a fish like monster to explore but the water instantly grew choppy. I continued summoning until the water started to calm and an orange tinge started to spread. This was Korpru blood. We tried a couple of experimental dives but if we were to go deeper we needed to open a stone hatch in the floor. James and Kale didn’t seem strong enough to do that. Kale naturally thought of smashing the hatch but after I explained something to him about water pressure and suction he wisely decided to wait. On the morrow Buffy would have the proper spells to help us explore.

We did take the opportunity to loot what we could from the water. James proved to be a very capable diver and soon we had everything he could hoist pulled out of the water. We had found all sorts of treasures. That’s also when we discovered that the water level had been slowly lowering. We had secured a rope onto the ladder, James used it to dive with and we used it to pull items out of the water with. Around his eighth or ninth dive James noticed that the water level had dropped about an inch. The math was rough, I guessed around twenty hours to drain the room, if the water drained at the same rate, which it most assuredly wouldn’t. Still I told the others that we’d best wait for the water to drain on its own, I suppose I could have used a summons to smash the stone, but subconsciously I welcomed the delay.

I was worried about confronting Lavinia. This would be a battle that no amount of preparation could prepare me for. It would all come down to Lavinia. There was nothing that I could say or do to sway her mind. She either felt the same way as I, or she didn’t. I’d spent time looking through books, history, medical, even romance, and from my research I believed my condition was fairly rare. To be honest, until I looked into it, I didn’t even know that there were other options out there. The chances that Lavinia had a similar mind seemed highly improbable. I would likely return, face rejection, and possibly even ridicule. I doubted the last bit but it was a small town and things spread. I put it out of my mind for today we needed to focus on the task at hard. I stepped outside of my secure shelter and looked up at the pyramid. Already Kiki and Buffy climbed the steps.

The pyramid had changed. The flesh in the first room had regenerated. Strange eyes, growing out of the very living innards of the pyramid, regarded us curiously. The water in the next level was completely gone. We gave the room a quick search and discovered a few more baubles . . . namely a ruby ring. Right away I knew the item would need to be mine! It was magic Churtle discovered but how could I, a follower of the Ruby Sorcerer, allow the item to fall into the hands of another. It was divine providence I thought.

There was also an Alter to Demogorgon. Kiki set to work prying the gems out of it. I almost asked if she had examined the thing for traps first . . . but I didn’t think I’d like the answer. Yesterday James had pulled up a number of potions from the mangled mess that had once been the room’s guardians, today we managed a few more . . . I thought we should continue searching more but the party urged me on.

We lifted the stone and descended down into (what would prove to be) the final chamber. The smell of oil and bile told us what we should expect. There were four great pools of black bile surrounded a central platform. The heat was horrid. The bile gave off its own heat but we were also in the heart of a living building. The pulsating flesh hung like curtains. We were in the gullet or belly of some great thing. The abundance of flesh surrounded and divided the room. The setting was ghastly but our foe was beyond comprehension . . . as we descended into fleshy sauna Kiki saw something move beneath the bile.

“There’s something in that,” Kiki said pointing. My eyes detected nothing.

“Don’t be absurd,” I said, “nothing could live in that . . .”

Suddenly the oily black sludge rippled and a massive chitin hide slithered just beneath the surface. I held back my dread. Such things should not have been possible . . . but something else drew my attention. Something else was in the bile: eight glowing orbs, the size of a man’s head floated in the goo, and I confess my attention was drawn to the sparkling baubles. It wasn’t gold that interested me. I immediately saw those baleful orbs for what they were! This was how the black pearls were made! This horrible arcane process was laid bare to me.

“Um guys,” Fredrick whispered, “that’s not our only problem.”

We turned to see what Fredrick was looking at. A final Korpru knelt in the far corner of the room. The sinister monster finished the spell he had been casting and stood. If it were possible I’d say he smiled at us. For a moment I considered talking with it, we weren’t going to reason with it, but smug types sometimes said more then they intend. I thought for a moment, if we could get it talking, it might spill all of its evil plans.

“Make your time . . .” I sneered, not quite what I’d meant to say, “Your base are belongs to us . . .”

Human language had been a bit of a problem for me as of late. Not so much with the people I knew, Kale, Kiki, Buffy, James, Fredrick, Orlani, and Churtle . . . the words came easy when I spoke to them. But strangers, people that I hadn’t connected with, the words sort of twisted. It was though my brain was on a different wave length from theirs. I couldn’t connect, part of my mind knew the acceptable words, but they failed to reach my mouth . . . or my words came out before I realised what I was saying. I despised talking with most people anyways, few understood what I understood, and I was growing tired of having to speak at their level or make concessions.

No one paid me much heed anyways, Fredrick and James moved to deal with the Korpru, and the rest of us looked to deal with whatever lurked in the bile. The Korpru was a priest I realised, he used his magic to hold Orlani, but then he turned his magic on Fredrick as well! He was casting twice as fast as I could. Somehow he was able to get out two spells to my one!

Fredrick looked about ready to turn on us, but thankfully my break enchantment spell was able to chase out the implanted thoughts and Buffy was able to dismiss the hold person on Orlani using a dispel magic. Meanwhile Kale poked at the black bile. He suddenly stood to scan the other pools:

“We’re on a platform,” he shouted, “All these pools are connected! That thing could pop up anywhere!”

Then the monster erupted from the pool behind him! It was a magnificent horror. The simplest way I could describe it was that it had the body of a centipede with a squid like head. It was all arms and tentacles it seemed. Black bile sprayed from its malformed mouth hitting most of us with its corrosive and combustible bile. Kale seemed particularly effected as the flames coating his body looked to be a bright blue in colour!

Kale lunged forward driving his sword into the beast’s addendum. Meanwhile Fredrick took flight against the Korpru priest. James and Orlani were forced to use their pistols against the priest: they were unable to reach him because of the black bile. The priest somehow floated harmlessly above the bile. Buffy shouted something about a resistance spell, I guess that’s what he was casting when we entered, and so now both Buffy and I cast dispel magic on him. He dropped into the ooze and started swimming away. Smoke pored off of his body. When he pulled himself up on the far side of the room his body was covered in angry read blotches but he was far from finished though! He lashed out at Fredrick, its tentacles seeming to grow to imposable lengths.

Behind me Kale was snatched up in the strange beasts many legs. Kiki, James, and Orlani lunged in stabbing at the horror. I summoned some back-up, flying monsters to attack the priest, hoping that Kale would survive long enough for me to save him. Kale struggled in the beast’s grasp, taking little damage and dealing little in return, but then the monster sprayed bile directly on Kale. Earlier Kale had managed to avoid anything but a graze but now, pinned as he was, he was forced to suffer a direct hit! Kale screamed in pain as his body seemed to light on fire. I moved to save Kale but before I could Kiki tossed aside her crossbow and lunged in with her rapier, I’m not sure what she was thinking, but the squirmy horror suddenly had her wrapped up in it’s multitude of arms as well!

I was forced to make a tough decision. Both were trapped but I couldn’t reach both. Kiki was my friend, as was Kale I suppose, but Kiki had been a constant companion and Kale always seemed to give me grief. I doubted Kale could survive another blast of the bile and without him we might not be able to win this battle but poor Kiki wasn’t as sturdy as Kale and might not survive long enough for me to come back for her. There was also the dreadful possibility that the thing might dive under that caustic pool dragging our companions with them.

I flew forward. The beast’s legs swung at me, somehow detecting me even though I was invisible but missing all the same. I put my hand on Kale’s foot and pulled him through the 4th dimension. Suddenly we were on the other side of the room. Buffy Healed Kale as he rushed past her to get back to the centasquid. We all assaulted the beast together. We hit it with everything we had. I blasted the thing with an orb of cold. Kale sliced into its thick chitin hide. James and Orlani managed to flank the best taking the time to slide their blades into vital areas. Finally the thing let out a shuddering howl, a few spasms and twitches, and then began to sink into the bile. I managed to pull Kiki to safety before the corpse vanished beneath the sludge.

While we struggled to deal with the monster Churtle and Fredrick fought with the priest. Fredrick tangled with the priest in melee while Churtle used her crossbow at range, nether were making much progress, but they kept the korpru occupied which also kept it from interfering in our battle with the centasquid. My summons also aided, but to a lesser degree, mainly they kept Fredrick out of the Korpru’s grasp. This nasty beast put up quite a fight, even managing to stall with its healing and its strange ability to cast double spells. I wasn’t quite sure how it was doing it but thankfully it wasn’t able to keep up with the pace. Some time later the monster was dead.

Our final foe must have been the one in command because he was certainly well equipped. We picked over his body like a colony of vultures. There was a set of bracers, a periapt, a ring, a spear, and a chain shirt, but the most fascinating find was a small piece of cloth. It unfolded into a black hole in the very fabric reality! I had heard of such things, they were called portable holes, and I was excited to lay my hands on one.

“What are those things?” Kiki asked, looking into the pool at the glowing orbs, “black pearls?”

“We need to fish them out,” I said, “They have secrets that need to be unravelled for the safety of all civilizations everywhere.”

“I don’t know,” Kale said, “those things are pretty vile and dangerous aren’t they? I think people would be safer if we just destroyed them here.”

“Kale,” I said, trying to keep control of my voice under control, “if you have any shred of human decency you will listen to me for once. Just once. These things could destroy all of humanity. We stumbled across one that was headed to Sasserine but there’s not guarantee that there was only one, and I don’t doubt for a moment that these things are in other cities. If we have any chance, any chance at all, of stopping this fiendish plot we need to understand how these things work. If we destroy these pearls here we will loose our best chance of discovering how we can stop these things. Stop thinking about your theoretical and idolized notions of good and evil and start thinking as a commander! We’re facing the hoards of Demigorgon and we don’t even know the full scope of the demon prince’s plans. We don’t know anything about his weapons! Kale if you sabotage this effort you could well be condemning all of civilization to that maddening hunger that we witnessed in the Kraken Cove . . .”

I could have continued but he seemed to relent slightly.

“How could you keep these out of enemy hands?” he asked.

“I suspect that these aren’t fully formed, that their magic is incomplete, and they’re probably not much danger to anyone. I will give them to the Witchwardens who are currently studying these things. You needn’t worry I will keep the one fully intact pearl until we find a safe way of disposing of it.”

“Yes . . .” Kale said, suddenly anxious to jump on that contentious issue, “about that . . .”

“That debate is long ago settled,” I said, “we don’t trust it to be left unguarded, and there’s no one else we can trust to hold onto it. And seeing as no one else can carry around the bulky thing: the pearl stays in my possession.”

There hadn’t been much of a debate to begin with. When we began picking though Vanthus’ gear I spotted the shadow pearl almost immediately and snatched it up. Publicly we didn’t dare discuss it. People by now knew they existed and perhaps realized that Vanthus had been carrying one but I hadn’t allowed the item to be viewed by anyone since. In the days after the invasion there had been little time to debate the matter and then, by the time things returned to normal, the pearl had been in my possession for too long for Kale to claim that I would misuse it. That didn’t stop him from raising concerns though, talking about magic being corrupting or some other nonsense. Magic wasn’t corrupting. Power was. There is nothing like a layman trying to debate you on the failings of your chosen craft. I had to admit that he’d done some research and he’d clearly listened when I explained things to him. Sadly that just meant that he knew just enough to be dangerous.

“We should fish these incomplete pearls out before this bile hardens,” I said, “and sadly I have no timeframe for that. Until a few minutes ago I’d have told you that this stuff, and specifically this much of it, was imposable to be kept in liquid form. Don’t touch this stuff with your hands. Open the portable hole and dump them in there.”

I eventually used one of my more powerful summons to scoop out the pearls. The bile was just too caustic. Everything else we tried melted or burned almost immediately. Thankfully my summons had a slight resistance to acid. The far realms were a toxic and caustic place after all.

After we’d thoroughly searched the pyramid we decided to travel to Sasserine instead of back to Farshore.

‘Coward!’ Hop-Toy accused, ‘you’ll take any opportunity to stall!’

“When we entered that pyramid today there’s no way we could have known what we’d find. We need to return to Sasserine and report our findings . . .”

“And sell all this loot,” Kiki said, practically rubbing her hands.

“Who are you talking to Tristan?” Kale asked, looking suspicious.

“The boss talks to however she wants too,” Churtle said, acting surprisingly bold. She had never talked back to Kale before.

“She’s talking to her toad, duh,” Kiki said rolling her eyes, “who do you think she’s always talking too? Sheesh it’s like we haven’t been traveling together for the last few months. Kale meet Tristan, Tristan Kale.”

“I only ask because sometimes wizards make pacts with outside forces to gain power,” Kale said, clearly doing his best to remember what he’d learned from a magic 101 course, “and demon and devil pacts are particularly common with the conjures.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that,” I said over the maniacal laughter emanating from my haversack, “I promise you that I would never stoop to dealing with demons or devils.”

We teleported back to Sassarine. I allowed the others to go on ahead to Blenak’s while I went straight for the witchwarden tower. I stayed invisible until I landed on the very door step. The guards blinked in surprise at my sudden appearance but once they realised who I was and that I meant no harm they quickly returned to their usual unflappable selves. I imagine working in a wizard’s tower quickly takes much of the wonder out of life.

I climbed the stairs to the top level, there was a shaft that allowed quicker ascension though levitation or fight, but I, as a novice, wasn’t allowed to use that yet. I tried to remain in good spirits about the whole thing. Lux had practically told me that I was guaranteed my white dagger next award ceremony, and I didn’t really spend much time in the tower anyways, but with my history with the witchwardens every little restriction felt like a slight. I was actually surprised that I was sent right up to the commander’s office. I climbed to the top landing opened the door and practically ran right into the lady herself.

“Tristan,” Lux Sioni said looking right through me, “You’re here to see me?”

I had started to curtsy to show respect but the woman didn’t stop walking and I could only bow my head. Lux was on the move, she was flanked by black daggers and clerks, all of whom looked at me very impatiently.

“Yes,” I said as she walked past, down the stairs (as the clerks couldn’t fly), “it’s very urgent and . . .”

“I have rounds,” Lux said, “walk with me.”

The mistress never slowed or stopped. She set a brisk pace back down the stairs that I’d just climbed. The black daggers, who had been keeping pace, suddenly had to slow to let me into the group. I quickly squeezed into the scrum and fought to move up beside the commander of the Witchwardens. The others didn’t look pleased, clearly there was a hierarchy and I was disrupting it, but Lux had told me to walk with her and no one would dare object.

“I’ve read your reports about Golismorga,” the mistress of the tower said without looking back at me, “the veil, Tlaloc’s Tear, the korpru, and the brain collector. Very interesting reading. Your reports sent many an acolyte into the archives of your old school. It was luck more then anything that one of our researchers discovered the name Golismorga in an ancient text. It was an Aboleth city. These demon fish of yours do fit the description. Now tell, me have you destroyed the tear?”

“No,” I said as we glided down the stairs to the labs, “we decided very early that . . .”

“Good,” Lux said, “I suspect that it would be wise to leave that alone for the time being. Now, I’m a very busy woman, why don’t you tell me what I can do for you then.”

“It’s about the shadow pearls” I said trying to keep my voice low, but someone behind me scoffed, and I couldn’t help but turn to see who it was. The woman was the black dagger that I’d first delivered the pearl fragments to all those months ago. I clenched my teeth but said nothing.

“You have something to say Yvette?” Lux asked without looking.

“Mistress I still believe these black pearls to be the result of this novice’s over active imagination,” the woman had the gall to say right in front of me, “why is it that the young Lidu and her companions are the only ones to witness this weapon? We have no records of its use anywhere. How could something this destructive have been kept under wraps?”

Lux suddenly stopped as we entered the lab and turned towards me. She said nothing but she seemed to be demanding that I defend myself.

“First of all,” I snarled as I turned on my critic, “we weren’t the first, the ancient Oman civilization in its glory was snuffed out instantly by some great cataclysmic event. We’ve seen the bones of that civilization, explored the ruins, and witnessed their mystic might first hand. The aboleth city of Golismorga was crushed under the majesty of that empire. And I have seen Golismorga! I have seen that eternal city, witnessed the breathing buildings, bathed in the sickening glow of the freezing fires of Y’chak, and battled an unfathomable creature that breathed the very black bile of the earth! Wonders more beautiful or horrible I have not witnessed nor could have imagined. Yet the Aboleths were defeated. Their undying bodies littered those caverns. But the Oman civilization collapsed shortly after this victory. The savage jungle has claimed the island. The few ancestors that remain speak of a great madness. Those that survived shunned their former civilization. They don’t even live in the shadows of their great ruins. What happened to the ancient Omans is a mystery . . . but I think I have solved it . . . I think . . .”

I paused to wipe some of the spittle off of my chin. Many looked at me with nervous eyes. I hadn’t meant to rave like a lunatic but the words just poured out. The woman who challenged me had lost her smug smile and now looked as concerned as the others. The only one whose expression hadn’t changed was Lux Sioni. Perhaps she wondered if in my current state I might still be a useful tool.

“We have witnessed the influence of Demigorgon,” I said in a much calmer tone, “his temples spot the island, the pearls are somehow tied to the abyss, and . . . we have discovered that the Korpru were using the aboleth city to manufacture shadow pearls.”

“Wait,” one of the black daggers said, his face was sort of twisted with confusion, “I don’t understand your jump in logic here. How are the forces of Demigorgon using an Aboleth city to manufacture shadow pearls? The aboleths don’t worship gods. Why would they have been working with the demon prince? I think you’ve got your facts . . .”

“The original magic is of an aboleth design,” I said, connecting the pieces for him, “they were building some kind of a weapon while the omans were doing the same. The omans were able to weaponize theirs first. After releasing the tear they traveled down into that ancient city . . . we discovered oman carvings miles below the surface of the earth, and there they discovered a great pearl. I imagine they took it back with them as a prize, as a trophy. How or why it was set off I don’t know but the aboleth design must have unintentionally caught the attention of that double headed ape. The prince couldn’t help but feel the connection between his realm and our world when the madness was seeped through. In the centuries that followed his forces discovered the aboleth magic and began building their own shadow pearls . . .”

“That is indeed a chilling tale,” Yvette, the first black dagger said, “if it was indeed true, but again we get back to this pesky business of evidence . . .”

As she spoke I drew out the portable hole and threw it open at our feet. Inside the hole was a pool of water that had been placed in there by the original owner. It splashed about, tipping water onto the lab floor, but that’s not what caught people’s attention. Something was beneath. Deep below that dredge sat the glowing pearls, visible even through that murky water, and my sceptic trailed off mid sentence at the exhibition. I heard some of the black daggers whisper divination spells. The aura from those things was unmistakeable. The room was filled with a deafening silence.

“I had thought that somehow they were mining them,” I said after a time, “that they were somehow found in veins of bilestone deep bellow the earth somehow, but now there is little doubt now that they were manufacturing them, and that they were using ancient Aboleth magic to do so. These we salvaged from the korpru operation. They’re not fully formed, all of our reports tell us that the black pearls don’t normally glow like that, and I suspect that they might be unstable. I pulled them straight out of black bile and most have a hardened shell around them. Use extreme caution while handling them.”

“How many,” Lux asked, her hand suddenly gripping my arm like a vice. She too looked down into that black pit, her eyes focused on the vile things within.

“I have no way of knowing,” I whispered, knowing full well she wasn’t asking about the pearls in the hole, “this is one batch, and this has been going on for years. I would guess that there could be one in every port in Oerth by now. To be honest I can’t even tell you how they’re set off. That’s why I’ll leave these in your care . . .”

“Shut that door,” Lux commanded, pointing to the lab, “Margold, Sparkillo secure this level. Make sure no one heard anything they shouldn’t. Everyone here is now sworn to secrecy. This is our current project. Nobody moves onto anything else until we get answers. Tristan you come with me, I’m going to go over everything you got on these pearls.”

We returned to her offices. Lux found a notebook and proceeded to ask me everything, in the most minuet details, that I knew about the shadow pearls. She asked things that I never even considered myself, things I’d taken for granted, and it was hours before I was allowed to leave. I felt mind numbingly tired. Lux had left me with a lot of questions but I was too tired to consider them.

“Tristan,” Mistress Sioni said as I tried to make my way out, I reluctantly turned, afraid she was going to grill me some more, “There will be a ceremony at the end of the month, I expect you to be there. We’ll be advancing some novices into white daggers.”

I nodded and half turned to leave, “It’s a shame really,” Lux continued, “That I couldn’t have advanced you sooner but your lack of respect . . . well I think we both know that was something that couldn’t have been over looked. You’re quite close to earning your black dagger as well in my estimation, but the others a nervous of you, and rightly so in my estimation. You’re mind doesn’t function on the same level as theirs and you seem to be advancing in your studies in an unfathomable rate. If only there was some way to placate them. The knowledge you’ve shared with us was quite invaluable but perhaps if you were to also donate some magic items you’ve discovered, proved your mastery of magic by researching a new spell to add to our arsenal . . .

“You know it’s quite unheard of for a witchwarden to advance twice in the same ceremony,” Lux said leaning back in her great leather chair, “but that’s not to say it’s never happened before. In times of war and desperation certain exceptions can be made. However my current command doesn’t know you, most of them graduated and advanced long before you even entered the House of the Dragon, and if I allow you to advance that quickly then their lack of trust will quickly turn to anger and resentment. You will need to work ten times harder then any of them. Just being better then everyone isn’t good enough. You would need to learn to inspire. You need to learn how to invoke their confidence in you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” I lied. I knew she wanted me to become a black dagger. I wasn’t entirely sure why, I was still reeling from that revelation, but now she was talking about me taking on a stronger role . . . a role of leadership! Something clicked together. I must have allowed the surprise and wonder seep into my face because Mistress Sioni laughed.

“There is only one step beyond Black Dagger,” She said patting her red dagger and badge of office, “and I’ve been thinking of retiring back into teaching and research, but I can’t just let anyone take my place. I haven’t come across many that I’d entrust this tower too, and don’t get it into your head that I trust you yet, but I do think you’re someone I could learn to trust. And more importantly, I think you’re one of the few people that could run this tower effectively. So with all that out in the open perhaps it’s time for you to go . . .

“And Tristan,” Lux said as I moved to open the door, “if you breath a word of anything we discussed in here I’ll rip your lungs out.”

Lux didn’t bother to look up as she made the threat but I didn’t doubt for a second that she meant it. I was honoured. I was thrilled beyond belief. She was someone that I’d looked up too as a child and now I discovered that she respected me? It felt surreal but as I stepped outside and saw the sun beginning to set I felt something deep in the pit of belly. In a few hours I would face Lavinia . . .

I took a few unsteady steps towards the Lidu compound and I felt the anxiety wash over me. I’d made up my mind. Tomorrow I’d face her. Tomorrow I’d tell her how I felt. There could be no more delays. There could be no more excuses. I stumbled towards an ally and there I lost my supper. This was something I’d never faced felt before. Death was easy to face, the stern lady had a place for me, but what could she do for my heart? Everything was culminating towards this moment. What would the tower be without her? What would the city be? Why save the world if not for her? My stomach tried to empty itself again.

‘You are strong enough to do this Tristan’ Hop-Toy said, ‘she is your first love and success or failure she will always be. Tomorrow you face your destiny. Tomorrow you will face your greatest fear. You think yourself an adult? Well now you need to start behaving like one.’

I pulled myself together and found my way home. Hop-Toy’s words rang true. Tomorrow I would need to prove myself an adult. Lavinia needed to hear how I felt and I needed to tell her how I felt. Tomorrow, one way or another, it would all be over.

Everything for the love of one woman,
Cthulhu dreams

Fragments of the Lidu diaries: Gorilla war in Golismorga

All that came out of the discussion was that we decided to spend the day in Farshore. We’d return to that monstrous city tonight to spend the night. We’d make our move early tomorrow morning if everything went according to plan.

. . .

Getting back to Golismorga proved to be a complicated affair: I wasn’t powerful enough to transport everyone by myself. Buffy’s spell wouldn’t work on places she wasn’t familiar with. I would need to use two teleports just to get us back to the foul city which would mean we’d be trapped until I’d rested and regained my spells. This had some people on edge. I hadn’t realized how much the others had come to depend on my magic. My teleport spells were peace of mind. They meant a quick exit.

Anyways, the process of returning to Golismorga went like this: I teleported Buffy, James, Fredrick, Kale, and myself to Golismorga. Once we were sure it was safe Buffy would use her magic to take her and I back to Farshore. Then I’d take the girls, Buffy, Kiki, Orlani, and Churtle, to Golismorga.

. . .

We chose a place that was far away from the pyramid. The location was just big enough for my secure shelter spell and would sit between two mushroom-like buildings. One of the wonders of my spell was it constructed itself from whatever was common. Here the shelter looked to be made out of the strange fungus. It was hardly invisible, it didn’t quite blend in, but it wouldn’t stand out. It was perfectly camouflaged if you didn’t know what to look for. We didn’t take any chances either way. That encounter with the purple worm told us that there were other things down in these caves besides Korpru, naga, and troglodytes.

. . .

It was an uneasy sleep at best but nothing entered our camp. The strange noises made everyone feel on edge. Even with Hop-Toy watching over me I had trouble relaxing. When sleep did come it was a light thing and when I woke I was instantly wide awake knowing where I was.

Fredrick once again made his feelings known. Thus far the others seem content to follow the lead of Kale and I but Fredrick is nothing if not persuasive. I wonder if he will continue to argue his case when Kale and I aren’t around? I do hope I won’t need to take actions.

We had a light breakfast before setting out. We carefully crept through the city. Some of the sites we recognised. The light source was more or less static so the shadows always fell in the same locations. We found the site of a previous battle. It was picked clean. The Troglodyte corpses still remained but the Korpru must have done something with their dead. After careful consideration we choose a new ambush location: this time to the north. We’d dealt with a patrol to the south and ambushed korpru forces to the west. We thought it best to keep our opponent guessing.

I chose to stir up the hornet’s nest differently as well. I crept to within sight of the pyramid before summoning hoards of pseudonatural creatures to harass their forces. I flew off before the naga’s were drawn into the fight. I rejoined the others. We waited to see what the Korpru response would be. We didn’t wait long.

The Korpru didn’t send any surprises. Their response was similar. There was little variation with our initial response as a result. This time, however, we were better prepared. As before we targeted the Korpru rather then the troglodytes or the naga, the Naga were quite dangerous, but the mind control was the greater threat. This time we practically enticed the large korprus to grapple with us. The big monsters were dangerous but they left themselves open for attack when they wrapped their tentacles around someone. No sooner did they snatch up Kale or James or Fredrick then the others were able to slice them open. In less then a minute two of the behemoths were dead and dieing.

Unfortunately our decision to ignore the nagas proved to be costly. Jets of fire blasted Fredrick and James. Their agility and weapon prowess proved to be no defence against the flame. I commanded my summons to shred one to ribbons while I flew over the other, intending to blast it into oblivion with my magic. Suddenly I realized that Fredrick had disengaged as well. His blades no long slashing at the korpru, they had been returned to their sheaths, but his attention had turned to me!

His mind had been compromised of course. His fleshy human brain was far too susceptible.

Fredrick had a regular supply of potions. He’d quaffed a potion of flight and invisibility before the fight. Thankfully the invisibility had worn off, but the other made him one of the few on this battle field capable of reaching me. He flew strait at me. I quickly realised that he was attempting to pin my arms in a misguided attempt to stop me from casting. On instinct (more then anything else) I extended my arm straight out. His forehead slammed into my palm, my body arched away from him and his hands, and his hands, grabbing for my waist, snagged nothing but air.

He wouldn’t be detoured though, his groping hands aimed for my body, my breasts, but my hands were accustomed to such attacks. I slapped them off, easily keeping out of range. Then he caught my wrist. He was much stronger then I was and he quickly pulled me into his embrace, pinning my arms to my sides, and then he began squeezing the air from my lungs.

It was a frightful experience, that loss of control, being handled in such a way, but it was over in a moment. I simply pulled myself through the 4th dimension and suddenly I was on the other side of the field of battle. Fredrick tried to chase me down again but I simply turned invisible and flew away at a right angle from him. The behemoth that had addled his mind was soon put to the sword and Fredrick returned to normal. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of that assault had been alien influence and how much had been Fredrick’s own dark twisted desires? His hands had been desperate, grasping, and sexual. With his arms about me his pelvis had . . .

I put it out of my mind. No good would come from thinking of such things.

We discovered that James had taken another hostage. This Korpru was as indignant as the other. We questioned him/her/it on the shadow pearls, about numbers, what their goals were, but every question garnered the practically the same response. There was a pause though when I questioned him about Demogorgon. It was a hunch at best, we’d only seen the odd hint here and there, but the creature’s cold calculating mind had clearly not expected for us to make that connection.

“Well what do we do with it now?” James asked, “I’ll be damned if we’re going to let this thing go so it can come back to try to kill us again.”

“Funny,” I said looking towards one of the violet burning pillars, “letting him go was exactly what I had in mind . . . after a fashion anyways.”

“What do you mean?” Kale asked, eyes narrowing, jaw tightening.

“Those pillars,” I said gesturing, “what do you suppose they’re made of? I have my suspicions of course, but I have no way of testing my theories.”

“You want us to throw this sad sack into the pillar?” Kale asked, “Are you insane? Wait,” he said holding up his hands, “don’t answer that last question. Tristan I’m not going to let anyone get close to those things again. It’s too dangerous.”

“Don’t worry Kale,” I said, that mirthless smile felt natural on my face now, “I had no intentions of any of us getting close to that thing. I suspect that those pillars are living wounds on the fabric of reality and knowing more of their nature might allow me to figure out some way to fix them. I suspect that the reason this city continues to live and exist is because of their unnatural light. Destroy the pillars and I might be able to end this city once and for all.”

“And what do you think will happen?” Kale pressed, “He’ll likely burn or freeze or whatever but how will seeing that help you?”

“Don’t be so quick to make such conclusions,” I said, “Magic can be crafted to affect only certain beings. Those that attach themselves to the upper planes might feel sick approaching those pillars while the vile are unaffected. Why would these demon fish create something that would affect them in such a way? I suspect that the pillars will only harm us, good creatures of flesh and blood, but these vile aberrations will likely not feel a thing. It is only a theory but I must find out though, for science.”

“Yes,” James said, sharing my smile, “for science.”

We bound the korpru up and I summoned pseudonatural hippogriff to deliver him into the pillar. The Korpru let out a scream when it discovered our intentions but my beast took off before we could feel too much pity for the monster. My hippogriff tried the direct root but clearly the aura was too great and it turned back. It flew higher and higher and then it turned and flew at the pillar at a full speed on a partial incline, then as it drew closer it dropped into a full dive, but then it turned away again . . . but something continued along the trajectory. We watched as the bound korpru twisted and turned through the air. We heard a brief scream as it floated over our heads. We gasped as he flew into the pillar . . . then instantly disappeared in a loud snap and a puff of purple and green flame.

“Interesting,” I forced myself to say. The pause after witnessing that horrible sight had grown well beyond awkward, “and unexpected,” I quickly added, “ I don’t think we’ll be doing that again . . .”

Kale suppressed a shiver and trudged off. I had no love for Korprus but I shared his disgust and horror. Had I known that the vile little being would be winked out of existence I would never had suggested the experiment.

We collected what we could from the bodies before returning to Farshore

. . .

“I don’t see how I can give you a penance Tristan,” Smarnil sighed, “you’ve not technically broken any of her tenets, and I’m not going to prescribe something just to make you feel better about the situation. She is the Stern Lady. You need to put pity out of your heart for such a monster. That creature may or may not have deserved death in that manor but don’t kid yourself it needed to be done. Launching it into that pillar hardly . . .”

“What if I’d done it willingly?” I asked. Having your own priest wasn’t much use if they wouldn’t do what you asked them to do.

“But you just told me that you didn’t know . . .” the priest sighed.

“Fine,” I said, I’d need to find some form of atonement somewhere else.

“Wee Jas isn’t about feeling better about yourself Tristan,” Smarnil said, “she . . .”

“Let me ask you something else,” I said suddenly interested in something that had been bothering me for a while, “Wee Jas also is a love goddess.”

“Well yes,” the priest said, trying to keep up, “she has that aspect, not my area of expertise, and hardly one of her major focuses.”

“And how does the goddess feel about women falling in love with other women and men falling in love with other men?”

“Well I think that would depend on who you asked,” Smarnil sighed, “The sacred texts aren’t exactly clear, questions on this matter asked of her directly were always answered vaguely . . .”

“I’m asking you,” I said, my eyes narrowing, “your beliefs. You’re my priest and I want your opinion. Let’s not talk using a hypothetical either. Straight answers.”

“Well,” he said with a nervous laugh, “you must understand that she is a goddess of the suel people, and obviously propagating the species would only seem a natural concern for her. But I’ve also come to understand that if every adult female were to bare children caring for such a large brood would be near impossible. It’s my belief that some of us must look after the living, to protect and help raise the next generation, and so I think some of us are designed by the goddess to always be there to care for other people’s children.

“But,” he said raising a finger, “that doesn’t mean that she approves of us giving into our base desires. I’m not saying that she outright denies such relationships but I feel there needs to be . . . hmmm, there needs to be understanding, she has great compassion and understanding, I don’t think she would deny or ban such a thing outright, but I don’t think love can be the only consideration. People might cite Wee Jas’ love for Norebo but she is also the goddess of duty and arranged marriages, and while Norebo is a scoundrel he is a Suel god, and so such a marriage could be seen as strengthening her people.”

“So you’re saying . . .”

“She couldn’t deny someone love as long as they remembered their duty to their people.”

“What sort of trouble did you get in up near Greyhawk?” I asked switching topics.

Smarnil’s face paled. “I . . . I” was all he could sputter for a moment.

“There was talk about a cult,” I said, trying to remember the details, “I only recall because I did a bit of research on the Age of Worms, but you know the stories didn’t quite go into exacting detail.”

“It wasn’t a . . .” Smarnil paused, than sighed, “There were those that worshiped the Green Lady as a full saint. She was guided by visions, or so they say, she foresaw the destruction of the empire and led a small group of . . . it doesn’t really mater. The church has outlawed her worship and doubts our . . . their claims. There was talk about rooting out heretics . . . I denounced my beliefs and have returned to the fold.”

“Isn’t there a statue of the Green Lady in the church of Sasserine?” I asked.

“No,” he said too quickly, “there isn’t you are mistaken.”

“Yes there is!” I snapped, I disliked being lied too, even if it was a priest who may have thought himself shielding me from the church’s ire, “I often pray to her because it’s threw that statue that . . .”

Thankfully I caught myself. I had heard the voice of Wee Jas through that statue. It had talked to me. I remembered nothing of the words but I knew it was so. I could scarcely tell Smarnil that. His reaction might have been similar to my fathers. I couldn’t stand to hear such scepticism from a priest. I bit my tongue.

Smarnil said nothing for the longest time. He just watched me, perhaps thinking of the words to say, likely searching for a way out of this conversation, but finally he licked his lips and sat down beside where I was kneeling.

“The Green Lady’s existence has never been denied by the church,” he said, “but I am on very thin ice and must be extremely careful as to what I say. She lived and died nearly a thousand years ago, she saved a handful of the Suloise and their followers from the rain of colourless fire, and she did, unlike many before and after her, make peace with the local Flan and enlisted their aid. There are some who view her as a saint but the church has been very reluctant . . .”

Smarnil trailed off. There was lots he wanted to tell me, but he was likely under an oath not to say any more. Perhaps he’d been forced to denounce her. I felt for a moment that I knew who this priest was and felt his sorrow.

“I’m sorry if I brought up painful memories father,” I said rising and dusting off my dress, “but that statue always had special memories for me, and whatever teachings this lady gave to you are yours to keep.”

“Thank you child,” Smarnil said with a feeble smile, “but time has past where I can keep hold foolish dreams and beliefs of the past . . .”

“She said she would return,” I gasped as a sudden insight hit me like a hammer, “that she would be born again,” Smarnil looked up at me, eyes wide as saucers, “you should never have doubted her.”

Only that wasn’t exactly what I’d said.

I suddenly felt very queasy. I turned and ran. Smarnil sat stunned for a moment but then he cried and stood, and he quickly gave chase. I used my ring of invisibility once outside the temple and disappeared. Smarnil’s continued pleading and begging for me to wait as I flew away but I couldn’t face him after that. I was as shocked as he was. I had meant to say “she” and “her” when I spoke of the Green Lady, those were the words that I had formed in my mind, but as soon as those words came tumbling out I realised there was a horrible discrepancy.

I had said “I” instead of “she”.

I had said “me” instead of “her”

. . .

Avoiding the priest had been a bother. Lavinia didn’t ask why I was avoiding Smarnil but she wasn’t exactly complicit with my attempts either. When I went to Blenak’s to get that wand she told the priest that I’d returned to Sasserine (which was true at the time) but when I returned she didn’t even try to hide the fact that I had taken refuge inside. She simply explained that she didn’t know why I was avoiding him but denied him entrance to her home. Smarnil politely bowed and again asked Lavinia to tell me that he wished to speak to me. Lavinia returned to her office and glared at me. I gave her a sickly smile in return. How could I explain to her what happened when I wasn’t entirely sure myself?

. . .

The Naga had gone invisible but I launched a fireball in the direction I thought it would be in. We needed to end this quickly. The pyramid was a few hundred feet away and reinforcements could soon be here.

The Korpru behemoth were the concern now, although their mind effecting magic was no longer a concern for us they were still dangerous. If they managed to isolate one of us their tentacles could make resistance near impossible. These lesser Korpru were more of an inconvenience then anything. They weren’t that great of a threat to our sword wielding warriors but they could still drag down some of our weaker and smaller members . . . if the korpru weren’t so slow. The troglodytes were a hindrance at best. Buffy moved about using her wand to renew the protection from evil spells, but having to fend off troglodytes made things much harder. Still, this fight was far easier then the previous one as we no longer had to worry about our team mates turning on us.

. . .

“Wait here,” I said to the others, “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Kale called, “where are you going?”

“To blast the pyramid before we leave,” I said, “I want them always guessing when and where we’ll strike again!”

I turned invisible and flew towards the pyramid. Using my boots I was able to select a fine hiding place amongst the shadows of the stalactites and far out of retaliation range by the weaker Naga spell casters. I took my time selecting my target, and then I called out:

“Attention Lords of Dread! It’s time for your daily beatings!”

Perhaps not one of my best lines but it would do. The fireball arced down blasting a small group of troglodytes and Korpru. I ducked behind the stalactite and prepared to activate my ring . . . but then I realised I wasn’t alone. I turned to see four cold cruel eyes. A three meter long mouth filled with dagger length teeth. A massive bulbous body covered with tentacles. Above those eyes I saw a dozen transparent sacks that held humanoid brains. It seemed to smile. Its teeth practically glistened with saliva.

‘Think fast Tristan,’ the severed head in my haversack laughed, ‘and don’t loose your head.’

“A brain eater,” I whispered in wonder. Until that moment I couldn’t have told you for sure if those things actually existed. I’d read about them in the forbidden texts sure, but that was different, those were words on a page, this was pseudo-real flesh and blood. And It sat less then a meter away from me. I’d never laid eyes on such a thing never mind been so close. I would love the chance to take one of these things apart. My examination was sadly cut short. Those cruel teeth lashed out. I felt a sharp pain in my calf. I felt the most of the strength leave my body.

I activated my ring and used dimension door to move well out of range. The monster, perhaps thinking I might seek revenge, turned invisible as well and we both disappeared into the darkness. I rejoined my companions.

“Any trouble?” Kale asked.

“None,” I said, “the Korpru didn’t even see me.”

. . .

“But we are making progress,” I said, stressing the ‘are’, “Yesterday we fought within sight of the pyramid and the korpru didn’t dare send out reinforcements.”

That wasn’t entirely true, we’d fled before reinforcements could arrive, but the forces around the pyramid had seemed much weaker and sparser.

“But we don’t know if we are making any difference,” Fredrick said, that fang hung out over his lower lip when his face was tight and angry, making him look like a petulant child then the master diplomat that he was, “there could be a thousand of those monsters in the lower tunnels, perhaps they’re so thinly spread out because they set dozens of traps like that throughout the city. If we destroy the tear . . .”

“We’ve been over this!” Kale snapped. He seemed to be loosing his temper, and for once his tantrums weren’t directed at me, “We’re destroying that tear as a last resort. We faced some difficulties early on but now I feel we’ve got these things figured out. We’re in no danger and these things don’t have unlimited numbers. In might take a week, might take a month, but for all we know it might be over tomorrow.”

“It could be over tomorrow,” Fredrick said, “very easily. You’re risking our lives to prevent a threat to a civilization that hasn’t been around for a thousand years. You seem to forget these demon fish are immortal. They live in an undying city. They don’t operate on the same timeline as we do. I can’t imagine they’ll be a threat until they’re ready. These Oman people could have a thousand or more years to prepare for that! In the mean time they’d most certainly take care of the Korpru threat for us.”

“He does have a point,” James sighed, I looked at the others, they seemed war weary. Kiki and Orlani nodded. It wasn’t a revolt but people were loosing their resolve.

“We’re at the final push,” I said smiling.

“You said that yesterday.” Fredrick reminded me, “and they seemed to have plenty of forces to offer a resistance.”

“We should have pressed on,” Kale said, “I can’t blame Tristan for wanted to return, we did finish off one of the healing wands, and I’m sure Tristan had used lots of her higher level spells, but James and Fredrick and I could have dealt with a few more of those Korprus. Perhaps we could have hunted down some more of those nagas. These short raids are fine but here I’ll agree with Fredrick. It might not be enough. We should have pressed on and taken the base of the pyramid at the very least.”

“If we just destroy the Tear . . .” Fredrick started.

“Tomorrow we’ll end this one way or another,” I said.

. . .

The base of the pyramid was cleared. The troglodytes vanquished. There weren’t many Korpru amongst the dead though. We didn’t see any of the Naga. The small huts were empty. The pyramid was sealed.

“Tomorrow we open that,” I said.

“You said yesterday . . .” Fredrick gasped, “we took out the remainder . . .”

“I said that we’d end this today,” I said, “and it is. It’s over. Look around you. Do you see any more Korpru? Is there any resistance? The pyramid is ours to explore. But we do it tomorrow. That’s likely going to be a tough nut to crack and there’s no reason to rush anymore. We wait till tomorrow.”

Golismorga was horror. It was a wonder. Built of undying flesh and bathed in that unholy violet light, Golismorga should have seemed alien and monstrous to my eyes, but yet it felt strangely familiar.

We explored the perimeter. Finding Golismorga was only the first step, dealing with these lords of dread was the next step, and hopefully that would stop the shadow pearls. We needed information. We needed to know who we were fighting.

Those violet lights lit the entire cavern, but on the ground, in the tangled of the city, the shadows were deep and dark. My companions quickly grew uneasy. It was Fredrick who first realised that the buildings were still alive.

“By Norbo!” He gasped. “They’re moving.”

“What’s moving?” Kale asked, carefully scanning the shadows.

“The buildings,” Fredrick whispered, “they’re alive.”

The violet glow was hardly a reliable light source, it sort of undulated on those great pillars, and so the shadows all vibrated and danced but even without looking I knew the buildings were alive. I could just sense it. Still, the others grew nervous, and Buffy stepped towards the buildings. Natural light had probably never fallen on those structures ever in their existence and perhaps, if they were sentient, were confused and mystified. The structures lay still and didn’t move. But then Buffy’s light fell on a fleshy oblong bag that was twice as large as a man, it seemed to twitch, and then it suddenly filled with air like a lung. We all backed away revolted.

The illusion was shattered. We were now suddenly aware of all sorts of movements. The others seemed to move closer together now. A living city seemed to worry them.

There was little on the perimeter, there were more caverns to explore, but I doubted that we’d ever return here once our task was complete. I marked these tunnels with some chalk and we continued on our way.

We practically stumbled across Tlaloc’s Tear after about half an hour’s walk. Churtle spotted a strange crater. The structures around it seemed pulverized. We cautiously circled the crater, expecting all sorts of opposition, but we found no guards. The tear turned out to be a giant stone carving of a lizard’s head that shimmered with mystic energy. It looked like ancient Oman in design and craftsmanship. Buffy said it resembled the Oman god Tlaloc. I was tempted to get closer to examine the thing but we spied strange mold and fungi, the crater was also very steep, and although neither of these things would have hindered me, I didn’t think it wise to separate the party. Perhaps I will take some time to look it over once we locate these lords of dread. We pressed on.

We passed close to one of the great violet pillars. They radiated intense cold. Both Kiki and Kale got violently ill as we approached. Kiki had been scouting for us and Kale got violently ill as he neared her. There was clearly an aura. I had theories. The head would need to be questioned later.

It was well into our second hour before we stumbled across our adversaries. The Koprus seemed as surprised as we were to stumble into each other. I had suspected that we wouldn’t find the korprus on land but the vile aberrations had troglodyte slaves and were being carried about in litters. The korprus probably hadn’t to find anything in their patrols. I suspect that they’d probably been down here for months if not years. We were likely the first sentient living creatures they’d stumbled across.

“Take one alive if we can,” I said, “but don’t let any escape!”

I hadn’t said anything that the others didn’t already know. Intelligence was of the utmost importance now. The fight was short but sweet. It would have been shorter still had Kale’s weak mind not briefly fallen under korpru control. In the end we managed to take both a korpru and a troglodyte.

We questioned both. Neither shared much information. The korpru did tell us that we were all going to die horribly. We didn’t ask for him to elaborate.

“Now what?” Kale asked.

“Let me take care of it,” Fredrick said, dragging the korpru off behind one of the buildings. A short time later he returned cleaning his sword, the rope coiled about his shoulder.

“You didn’t,” Kale gasped.

“I didn’t,” Fredrick calmly answered, “I tried to let him go but I suspect he thought I was going to do something else. He’s dead either way.”

“This one cannot be saved,” Irgzid, our troglodyte guide said. He’d been trying in vain to convert the troglodyte hostage, “I cannot talk sense into him. His mind has been twisted by the korpru. If we release him he will return to them and warn them.”

“Let me take care . . .” Fredrick started.

“Oh no,” Kale said, cutting Fredrick off, “they’ll soon know about us anyways, and one troglodyte isn’t going to give us any problems.”

“There are many more though,” Irgzed said, “a hundred troglodytes. Forty small korpru, twenty big korpru, and almost as many spell snakes . . .”

“Keep in mind,” I added, “that troglodytes can’t count.”

“Still it would be best if I sacrificed this one to Laogzed so that his soul may return to his people.”

“Yes,” Kale said rolling his eyes, “as if that’s going to happen. Listen Irgzed, we appreciate the help getting us down here, everything you’ve done thus far has been wonderful, but now that we’re here I think it’s time for us to part ways. I believe you can find the way out? There’s got to be another tribe that you can join.”

“Yes, I know of such a tribe,” the foul smelling guide said, “I will go to them. I wish you luck in your mission. Remember, destroy the tear and it will end the tyranny of the korpru by bringing back the waters.”

With that he turned and left.

“Maybe we should do as he says,” Fredrick mused.

“Oh yes,” I said, “bringing back the waters would certainly put an end to the korpru . . . oh wait, the korpru live under water, so no, no it wouldn’t!”

“But the demon fish?” Fredrick prompted.

“And that would be an improvement how?” I asked.

“I agree with Tristan,” Kale said turning to Fredrick, “there are no easy solutions here, but we’ll destroy the tear if it comes to it.”

“Only as a last resort,” I said agreeing with what we’d decided earlier.

“Yes only as a last resort,” Kale nodded.

We left the troglodyte bound and gagged next to one of the buildings. A place where we hoped he wouldn’t be discovered for a long time. Then we resumed our explorations. We edged along the cavern wall. We found a great ravine. We edged along it. Then we came across another pillar of violet flame. We carefully skirted it.

The silence was overwhelming. Not that the cavern was quiet, there were all sorts of ambient noises and even chattering and howls, the noises one might find in an asylum, but there was nothing that suggested intelligent life. Most of the noises we knew were being made by the buildings themselves, some vibrated and hummed of their own accord, and one even let out a scream when we got too close, but as worrisome as the experience was we found no hints of intelligence. Things here were living but mindless. None of the sounds we heard had any shape to them. That is until we drew near the pyramid.

The pyramid looked out of place amongst the other alien structures. It was solid non organic stone. It would haven taken years to construct. Cruel Korpru task masters ordered about dozens of troglodyte slaves. There didn’t seem to be hundreds of them but there were enough. We caught sight of a few nagas as well. There was little here individually here that would give us pause but the numbers seemed daunting. We crept away to discuss the situation.

“We can’t possibly defeat that number,” Fredrick said, “let’s just destroy the tear and be done with this place.”

“Not in one fight,” I said, “not all at once. But we can easily grind them down.”

“But the tear is just right over there,” Fredrick whined, “and it’s unguarded.”

“We can’t leave anything that could come back to haunt us later,” Kale said, “you’re talking about a quick fix, if this place floods and these demon fish take over, who’s to say they won’t take up shadow pearl production later? I mean who’s to say that the korprus will loose? Right now there’s no water and that means our enemies are at the disadvantage.”

That was remarkably well thought out. I was surprised.

“Let’s not forget the several tons of water that could come flooding into this place,” I said, “I mean even without having studied engineering you must realize that water is pretty heavy. When we take down that magic barrier there’s no guaranteeing that this city won’t be crushed like a grape. Also I want to get in there and look things over. I want to see if there’s any to be learned. That would be hard to do if this place is underwater.”

“What are you thinking?” James asked.

“We need to do a bit more scouting,” I mused, “find a good ambush spot. Find a good rendezvous point. I fly over the hornet nest and poke at it with a fireball. When they swarm we jump some of them, then retreat to the rendezvous point and we teleport back to Farshore.”

“Okay,” Fredrick mused, “that’ll get them mad, what’s the next part of the plan?”

“We rest up in Farshore and do it again tomorrow,” I said, “then again, and again. Then when we’ve softened them up enough we take the pyramid itself. This way we’ve not only eliminated the Korpru but prevented the demon fish from returning.”

There was a bit of grumbling. The idea of returning to Farshore today was appealing but the prospect of returning to this city tomorrow was repugnant. We moved into the city. We cautiously circled the pyramid. Finding a good spot for an ambush proved to be a mind numbingly simple task. The city wasn’t built with bipedal locomotion in mind. There was an abundance of choke points, blind alleys, and lots of irregular shapes to hide behind. An ambush would be easy no matter where we placed it. I let the men folk plan that. They seemed to enjoy that sort of thing.

Our rendezvous spot was picked for us by fate. As we snaked our way westward through the city, away from the korpru pyramid, one of the flesh formed buildings collapsed upon us. There was virtually no time to react. I heard the creaking sound and before I could turn my head to see the source of the sounds I was buried in flesh formed resin. I was able to phase my way out. It had caught us all, and I was the only one who had been able to escape under my own power. I summoned a great gorilla like monster to dig up the party. Thankfully we quickly found James and Kale and they set to work digging out the others. Orlani was last to be pulled from the rubble. We had a few scrapes and bruises but we also had a surplus of potions, wands, and items that quickly healed our wounds. Whatever had caused the avalanche hadn’t been triggered by Korpru explorations. This seemed as good a spot as any to regroup at. We put out plan into action.

Flying through Golismorga felt natural. The city was designed for swimming and flying was the next best thing. It wasn’t a complete experience: buildings sagged, tilted, and listed onto their sides. Had the cavern been filled with water these shapes would have stood erect, perhaps even danced with the current, but now everything lay flat . . . the living buildings struggling to breathe. Soon the pyramid was a small shadowy box below me. Troglodytes swarmed like ants. The Korpru and the larger Korpru lay about directing their minions. The Nagas slithered about like silver fish. I waited a moment watching the activities below me wondering if my companions had gotten into position flew into range and made the bugs scatter.

I was well out of the range of retaliation but quickly turned invisible as I returned to the others. I’d traveled north before activating my ring and I hooked back to the west once out of sight. I wanted to mislead our opponents. I surmised that a large force would hunt for me to the north while smaller groups would fan out throughout the city in an attempt to circle me.

I rejoined the others. In the distance we could hear the pandemonium my attack caused. We sat on edge but the retaliation was slow to come though. I sat beside Churtle calmly waiting for the on coming onslaught. She seemed on edge and I felt so calm. Strange.

“There bes a lots of them,” Churtle finally whispered, her sharp kobold eyes could see into the shadows, “more then before. Do we runs?”

I contemplated that for a while. There were sixteen troglodytes, eight korpru, four of the behemoths, and two nagas. Not a serious threat if it weren’t for the korpru’s mind control. The men seemed a weak willed lot, too quick to fall under control. While I was certain we could handle the monsters I wasn’t as sure about dealing with rogue party members. I knew first hand how much damage Kale could do.

“Let’s waste them,” I muttered, a summons coming to my lips, “take down the korprus first.”

The fight went well to begin with. My summons ripped into the heart of mass, pulling the korprus from their litters. Kiki, Kale, James, and Orlani softened our opponents at range, but then the Troglodytes charged in and the behemoths drank some potions and took to the air! The fight had turned into melee and while the troglodytes didn’t prove to be a serious threat if gave the korpru’s time to work their evil. Orlani suddenly turned on James.

“What the deuce!” James shouted as Orlani sliced open his back, “Orlani snap out of it!”

“Take out the troglodytes,” I commanded, meaning the monsters that had surrounded James, “then deal with Orlani!”

“Relax,” James said with that cooked smile of his, “I got it under control.”

I knew something horrible was about to happen but was powerless to stop it. James lunged at Orlani looking to grapple her and pull her to the ground but Orlani’s reactions were far better then James anticipated. Orlani raised her pistol (which had a bayonet on it) and jammed it into the hollow between James’ neck and shoulder. James staggered back but lunged again this time Orlani lifted her sword and opened up James’ arm all the way to the bicep before swinging it across his face. Bloodied and beaten a wise man would have cut his losses. James lunged a final time. Orlani side stepped his attack and drove her sword into into is back. James was down.

To my left Kale was enveloped by one of the massive Korpru. Fredrick already struggled in a tangle of tentacles. Buffy was desperately trying to fight her way to James. Kiki backtracked trying to get room to fire her crossbow. And Churtle fought to keep the troglodytes from finishing off our fallen companion. Things looked bleak. But just as quickly the battle turned again, Kiki fired a bolt through the head of the korpru that controlled Orlani, Churtle dropped the last of the troglodytes, Orlani lunged into the massive Korpru that held Fredrick . . . her blade finding its heart, and Buffy managed to heal James to bring him back into the fight. My summons had taken out the smaller korpru and now turned on the larger monsters. Although not highly effective as attackers they proved to be deadly flankers. The battle ended with no quarter given.

Our fight was far from precision though. There had been a lot of noise. Large dark silhouettes flew towards us. Luckily I had a new spell for just such an occasion. I enveloped our attackers in a solid acid fog. It wouldn’t kill them but we’d be long gone by the time they escaped. I formed a group and teleported back to Farshore. Buffy joined us in Farshore moments later with the remainder. We were bloodied but not beaten and we’d dealt a blow to the Korpru.

We joined Lavinia for supper. Tomorrow we’d strike again,
Cthulhu dreams

Day three. We are still underground. Thank Wee Jas for the mysteries she has provided otherwise I’d go mad with the silence.

The day began with another drab breakfast. I am thankful for these meals Buffy’s god provides us with, but I almost find myself wishing for ship’s rations over this fair. Bad food is preferable over bland food. We then began walking. Again time and distance are nearly impossible to calculate down here. I counted footsteps for a while, calculating that Orlani’s step was on average 29 inches, and she’d need roughly two thousand one hundred and eighty five steps to cover a mile. I gave up counting at an even six thousand six hundred and sixty six.

We walked for a while longer, then we had lunch, and then we walked some more. It was shaping up to be another dull day of travel . . . then we came to the Cerulean Curtain . . . It was in a large chamber, hundreds of feet across, and the strange blue shimmering wall split the chamber almost in half.

“What is that thing?” Kale asked, echoing our thoughts.

“It’s the curtain,” Irgzid, our fetid guide said, “it is ancient magic. The wall keeps the water away.”

“What do you mean ‘keeps the water away?” I asked.

“Down in the deeps was flooded long ago,” Irgzid said, “but there was a war between humans and strange monsters, and the humans created this wall some how. The monsters needed water to live and so the humans killed them all with one cruel move. The water has stayed away and is very rare behind that wall. That is all I know.”

“That sounds monstrous,” Kale muttered looking at the wall.

“Perhaps,” I said, “but sometimes we must make monstrous choices to protect those that we love.”

“So the ends justify the means?” Kale asked. This was the crux of our continued disagreement, and something that was never to be resolved between us.

“No,” I said, “but sometimes morals don’t enter into it. We’d all like to do the right thing when we’re backed into a wall, but sometimes, in the dark, the right answer isn’t so plain. Good or evil don’t matter. It is what it is. Ideals are for priests and paladins.”

“If we don’t do what’s right then . . .” Kale started to counter with his typical rhetoric.

“That’s all well and good for you and I,” I roared drowning him out, “we can defend ourselves, but we’re also talking about a defending those that can’t protect themselves. Don’t ask me Kale what I would do to protect someone I love . . . I don’t think you’d like the answer. You might take comfort in your ideals but I’d take comfort in knowing that my loved ones are safe and that anyone who dares try to harm them are dead and buried. I want the wicked to fear me and I want everyone who would dare lash out at me to know that the price would be far worse then any meagre gain. If that makes me a terrible person Kale Silverthumb then that’s it, out in the open, and at last we know where we stand.”

There was silence for a moment, I turned to wipe the spittle that had inadvertently splashed out in the most passionate part of my argument, but then I caught the sound of whispers. I thought the others were talking amongst themselves as Kale and I butted heads (as usual) but when I turned to them they were all looking to us. Then we heard the whispers again. They were unmistakable, and in oman! I looked towards the wall and caught the form of an oman warrior in full battle garb float across the surface of the wall . . . his mouth open in a silent scream.

“What was that?” James asked, the rest of us stared at the wall dumbfounded.

“That was the wall,” our guide mumbled, “those voices can be heard anywhere on the other side of the wall, it is but a small thing, the voice is tiny and far away, but going through the wall the voices are loud. There is no way to keep them out.”

“What do you mean . . . exactly?” James asked.

“You will see,” said our guide.

Our argument put aside for the time being we approached the wall. As we drew closer the whispers were unmistakeable, I recognised the language as oman, and I could almost make out what they were saying.

“And we need to pass through that?” James was asking.

I took a deep breath and stepped through the Cerulean Curtain.

The voices were all around me, shouting, screaming, and suddenly I felt something inside answering back! It was ancient Suloise, of that I’m almost certain, and the voice was screaming a challenge. I felt something try to seize control. To what end I don’t know. Perhaps it was a primal echo or rallying cry to the ancient oman voices. I felt dizzy, almost nauseous, and for a moment my mind touched something not quite foreign and not quite unknown. I felt as though I was looking at the world through multiple points from some place just behind my own eyes. Like I were a family looking out of the front room window. I forced the rebellious voice (or was it voices) back into the dark corner from which it came.

Then I was on the other side of the wall.

The others followed. They hadn’t noticed my reaction, perhaps I’d given no outward sign of the internal conflict, but it was clear from the conversation that followed my experience was unique. They had heard the Oman voices and nothing else. Had one of my past selves (if I were to believe such a thing) tried to take control?

‘That was strange,’ Hop-Toy muttered, ‘you felt like a different person for a moment there Tristan.’

“That was amusing,” the voice in the haversack mused, “an echo answering an echo. Well almost amusing. I doubt she could have actually taken control. Interesting though, I wonder if you faced a similar adversary in a past incarnation? She seemed quite anxious to heed the rallying cry.”

“What were they saying?” Kale was asking.

“It sounded like ‘two faces watch the tide’ or something like that,” Fredrick said, “maybe something about a ‘biting maw’”

“Much of it was gibberish,” I said, “incomprehensible, but some of it sounded like an ancient warning.”

“Let us keep moving,” our guild said, “we still have a much traveling ahead of us.”

“How much further is it?” Fredrick asked (not for the first time).

“Three days I think,” the troglodyte answered, “Maybe more.”

“You don’t know?” James asked, sounding rather annoyed.

“I have been this far, tomorrow we shall be at the place of the exchange, and I know the tunnels we must take to go the rest of the way,” Irgzid said, “it is not far but it is easy to get lost down here. If you get lost you could spend the rest of your lives wandering these tunnels trying to find your way out.”

“Tell us something useful then,” James prompted.

“There is a village,” the pungent reptile responded after a moment of thought, “not far from here, I will take you there.”

“And what sort of monsters live there?” James asked.

“They are people,” Irgzid sneered, “just like you.”

They obviously weren’t like us, as we were soon to find out, but I suspect that Irgzid couldn’t tell the difference.

Finding this village was trouble. We discovered that the village was hidden behind a devious maze of mould. The ceiling was too low for me to safely fly over the harmful spores. There were boulders and debris which hindered my view. Had I been able to see the far side I would have used my magic to instantly pull us over there. In the end we navigated the maze through trial and error (with plenty of errors in the mix). When we eventually passed through the maze we were greeted with the threatening clack of massive monsters which had great hooks for hands. Behind the guardians stood the walls of the village. Atop the walls we saw the silhouettes of the villagers.

“We come in peace,” Fredrick called out in vain, “we mean you no harm!”

There was no response from the villagers.

The monsters eventually attacked. No one from the village called them off. The fight was pointless bloodshed. The guardians were slaughtered, there really wasn’t another possible outcome, and the seemingly mute villagers that had lined the walls had vanished. We entered the village (the gates weren’t even bared) and found the streets deserted. We soon discovered that the villagers were cowering in their hovels, quite certain that we were there to slaughter them.

“We mean you no harm,” I said, although after the trials and tribulations we’d faced getting to the village I found those words had less conviction. After all the trouble we’d faced I probably meant them a little harm.

Finally a tall misshapen albino creature appeared. He looked vaguely human only slightly wrong in all aspects. His mouth was twisted, his ear was missing, and his eyes weren’t quite on the same level in his slightly misshapen head. He looked like a thing formed by an autistic god who’d never seen the colour of the surface world.

“Greetings travelers,” the thing said with a remarkably clear and beautiful voice, “my name is Vertram, and I am headman of these people. We’re sorry for the trouble our traps and guardians must have caused you but every year these caves become much more dangerous. We mean you no harm, please put away your weapons, and please be welcome in Barbas.”

“Hello Vertram,” Kale said, “we come in peace, and we’re sorry for killing your guardians but we called repeatedly for you to call them off to no avail. We would like to spend the night in your village.”

“Yes, please spend the night,” the albino said, then he turned to his village and called out, “people it is safe, please come forth and make our guests welcome! We shall have a feast in your honour.”

Then we discovered that Vertram was easily the most human looking creature in the town. The streets quickly filled with a menagerie of misshapen monster men. Some looked almost like lizardmen (only not), others looked almost like bulywugs (only not), others had fur, and some even had feathers. All seemed horribly misshapen. Most didn’t even have body parts that matched, and yet they seemed friendly, as if they had never felt the sting of human cruelty that their looks would surely garner on the surface.

Remarkably all seemed gifted with lovely speaking voices . . . but more then that! They all were capable of imitating any voice that heard. This came as a shock to us, but it came naturally to them, and as the children and people of Barbas began to socialize with members of our group they suddenly began emulating their voice! The villagers seemed to do this out of respect and admiration, like our culture likes to bow and shake hands, but it was still very unsettling. I found myself affronted on all sides by Kale’s aggressive voice. A young boy ran by perfectly emulating Orlani’s laugh followed by a young girl masterfully matching James’ curse of surprise.

The feast they provided proved to be a meagre thing. There was Fungus and lichen, slime that had been scrapped from the walls, strange bugs, meat that was dried and rubbery, and water. Our hosts acted as if they had put forth a great banquet and it would seem rude to turn up our noses at the food laid out for us. We accepted and sampled with forced smiles. I must say it had more flavour then the sustenance Buffy’s god provided us. I am yet unsure if that is a good or a bad thing.

After Supper we told stories. These mongrel folk are great story tellers. If I were to close my eyes I could imagine myself back in the Sasserine Opera House listening to some famous orator reciting “Sasserine and Teraknian”. Vertram told us the tale of his people, how they were the decedents of slaves and Oman warriors lost in the Great War, forced together for mutual protection, and against all odds surviving even though the world around them had disintegrated. He spoke of a great evil, some sort of demon fish that controlled people’s minds, and of ancient Oman magic that drove out the water. They couldn’t tell us anything about our destination or these demon fish though. Their description didn’t match any demon I could think of, though, admittedly the planes are vast and there are many, many different forms of demons.

The people were naturally curious about the surface world, about us, and our journeys. Fredrick told them of our adventures and our lives. Vertram grew quiet as we told our stories and after we’d finished our tails he looked to us and spoke.

“I have had dreams as of late,” he said, “many are nightmares, fuelled by all these renewed dangers we faced no doubt. Things are far worse now then anything in even our most ancient tales. The troglodyte tribes have laid siege to our village, have made hunting impossible, and it’s only our defences that have saved my people from being carried off. Also I feel there is something evil stirring below, these lords of dread you speak of are likely far below in the ancient city our ancestors fled from. However recently I have seen that soon people from the land of light will come and destroy this evil and end our exile here in the lands of darkness.”

Vertram would say no more on the subject, not even to say if we were the people from his dreams, but it was clear from the look on his face that he thought that we were.

Tomorrow I’ll teleport back to Farshore,
Cthulhu dreams

I think it is the second day underground. There’s no way to tell the time down here. It is always constant night.

Our guide stinks badly. He is dreadfully dull to talk to as well. Also we can’t trust him . . . and of all the character flaws I think the smell tops my list. Being a tedious evil cold blooded monster would be more tolerable in my books if he just didn’t stink so badly. Perhaps some would argue, I’ve obviously found fault with the one thing he is incapable of changing . . . but there it is: he stinks and I don’t trust him. I left him outside of my magical shelter for the night. If something should happen (and by happen I mean should something wander by and eat him) we’d be without a guild but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I haven’t heard any objections from my companions.

We had a bland breakfast provided by Buffy’s magic and then we began a seemingly never ending journey down. We traveled for a long time. Distance and time is impossible to tell underground. Eventually our guild stopped and signalled for us to do likewise.

“In this room is bad air,” our guide said, “it’s poison, we must hold our breath . . .”

“So we just run through the room?” I asked.

“Yes we holds our breath and . . .”

“This would be a bad place to run into anything,” I said, “I’m going to summon something expendable to scout that tunnel out. We wouldn’t want something blocking our path now would we?”

I summoned a small dog-like creature to ensure the path was clear. It was a wise decision on my part! No sooner did we light up the chamber with one of Buffy’s light stones and send my little monster inside then a great black slab of darkness suddenly lunged forward and seemingly swallowed it whole. It took but a moment for our brains to comprehend what we were seeing.

“What the hell is that?” James shouted.

“One of those acid globs we fought in the Oman ruins,” Kiki shouted, “hit it at range!”

We’d faced something similar when we first came to the island, but this thing was more than twice the size of the ooze we’d faced, and I wasn’t immediately sure we were facing the same monster. We attacked at range (away from the poison gas) and like the pervious one it rapidly began to break apart. The black blobs began moving towards us, the men were forced to draw their blades to protect us, and the creature’s powerful acid hissed away on their weapons as they chopped away at the creature. Then, when the thing was in small enough chunks, I lit the up cave with a fireball. The blast made short work of the smaller pieces. There was a bit of mopping up to do some of the bits survived the blast and fled. Finishing these remnants required only minor magic. Spotting the black ooze in the darkness proved to be the tougher task. Buffy’s light stone hand mysteriously vanished and our other means of light cast long concealing shadows across the room.

Thankfully no one’s weapon was permanently damaged by the acid. I suspect that if our front line hadn’t been using magically enchanted swords that we might have been in a bad way. As is the fight was quick and decisive.

Our guide seemed genuinely surprised at the seeping darkness. I’m unsure of what he would have had to gain by leading us into a trap, especially seeing as he would have been leading, and especially seeing as the monster had no nose and it attacked the first thing to enter the room. I didn’t question him. I still didn’t trust him but this seemed like a genuine surprise. I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

We walked for a while longer, stopped for something to eat, and then we walked some more. Was it noon? Was it sun set? Was it night? There was no way of knowing. Our guide warned of us some more upcoming danger. A strange tactical creature lurked somewhere bellow. The aberration could be reasoned and bargained with, for a price, and the troglodytes had made such a deal, but I was tired and was sick of trying to bargain with monster.

“Wait here,” I said to my companions.

“What are you going to do?” Kale asked, as I dropped a few magically glowing rocks Buffy had enchanted into the strange petrified forest some 400 feet below.

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse,” I said turning invisible.

I took flight and dropped some 300 feet in search of my prey. The strange forest proved to be a fine hiding place for the monster as the rock dead trees concealed his trunk like body. I soon spied his squirmy body towards the edge of the shadows though. It had come to investigate the light. I activated my boots so that I could summon something to convey my offer.

A hulking armoured cyclopean horror (the outer realm’s equivalent of a rhinoceros) answered my summons. The beast appeared some 15 feet away and launched itself, horn first, into our adversary. The strange tentacle tree roared in anger and attempted to wrap my beast up with its long stringy arms . . . almost like rope, but my monster was simply too strong. Then I felt something coil about my foot.

I suppose I should have panicked. I didn’t know what this creature was, didn’t know what it was capable of, but I was tired and I was angry. I used my magic to phase some distance away. There I used my superior mental conditioning to fold another summons from the far realm without uttering a word. This time I drew a horror that was familiar to me: the twisted form of a dire boar. Between my two monsters the obstacle was removed. I returned to my companions to give them the all clear. We searched the area for treasure. James and Kiki found all sorts of treasure hidden in that Petrified Forest, from a mundane ivory rod to a mysterious magical cloak. The cloak was my colour and size and so James gave it to me.

After walking a while longer we made camp for the night. There was little conversation. We ate our meal, chewing the tasteless food silently, and many of us turned in early. Hopefully we’ll dream of a blue sky and fields of green. What do creatures born in this drab dark pit dream of? Churtle seemed most at home here but even she had few words. I suspect it’s the kobold way to be constantly vigilant, and although a stone sky was familiar to her, so was the reality of constant threat.

Already I’m bone weary of this place,
Cthulhu Dreams

From the Diary of Tristan Lidu:

I lobbed another fireball, but my mind was taxed from my earlier attack, and this blast was far weaker then my first. It took the combined efforts of our team to drop the remaining two monsters. I used the time to summon a giant shark like beast to guard our wake to ensure no more of those horrible mashers fatally decided to try snacking on our ship and crew. I was surprised to find that Churtle had taken the time to fish one of the flash fried carcasses out of the brine.

“What are you up to Churtle?” I asked as she talked some of the crew into hauling the massive corpse onto the deck.

“The gnome Urol says thats these fish is very tasty,” Churtle said with a toothy grin.

“Since when do you listen to Urol?” I asked.

“Since he says thats these mashers are also poisonus,” she said (as I tried very hard to suppress a groan), “and that’s be two of my specialties. You want some masher for supper boss?”

“Maybe,” I said fingering the glasses that Blenak had crafted for me, “but can you tell if the fish you make is safe?”

“Oh yes, I most probably can,” Churtle said with pride, “I was best Kobold cook in my village for a good reason you know. I didn’t poison almost anyone in my two years making me the greatest chef in our village history.”

“Well that sounds . . .”

“Unfortunately village historian be poisoned three years prior,” Churtle mumbled as she turned to look over the great eel.

“I’m sorry what did you say?” I asked.

“Nothing boss,” Churtle said looking up at me with those innocent eyes, “just remembering how I gots promoted.”

We’ve now spent one day underground. I hope we finish our investigations soon. I don’t want to spend my birthday down here.

We’ve gained so much from the glutton, lots of food, an impressive hoard (including a spell book!), and today we discovered that his directions were spot on! We found the lair of these self styled Lords of Dread with ease thanks to the directions the late dragon turtle gave us. Realistically we would have found this godforsaken hole eventually. It was likely the only pier on this side of the island, but the turtle did save us a number of days of scanning and searching the vast and savage coastline, and for that I thank him.

There were no guards visible on or near the pier but flocks of seagulls swarming near the mouth of the cave and a double row of green glowing skulls that flanked the length of the pier spoke of something lurking within. The skulls proved to be our first obstacle, a horrible sickening stench permeated the area, and my companions were turned back retching. We had suffered far worse odours in our travels, and while my companion’s senses had somehow forgotten the awful aroma of demon stink, but my senses had been permanently scarred . . . either that or my body is changing from the inside out --- much like Hop-Toy’s had. I wonder which it is.

I flew closer to the skulls for a closer look. The green glow was caused by a noxious green flame which was fed by an equally noxious paste like fuel. Knowing what to do once I figured out that the flames were the source of the smell didn’t take a genius: in no time the grisly torches were bobbing in the water and the reek was, more or less, dissipated. Soon my companions (and the dainty delicate noses) joined me on the peer. The great wooden mass was rotten and slimy but still useable. The seagulls told us that there was food or garbage near by. We advanced slowly along the pier till it met the shore, just beyond the mouth of the cave. The gulls scattered at our approach but the other inhabitants of the cave would not be frightened off by our arrival . . .

A large lizard like creature lunged from the shadows! It caught us off guard and there was no mistaking it’s intensions as it bit into Kale. The monster had been hiding near, what we now saw was, some kind of gate or portcullis, and this strange lumpy creature was likely some sort of guard beast. We’d faced larger lizards before, so we weren’t really worried at first, but soon the over grown guard dog was getting support from within the cave. Some humanoid figures, strange lumpy things, began casting spells through the gate. I quickly put an end to that by summoning something behind them! Their screams gave us hints as to what they were: in the poor cave light they almost looked like Bullywugs, but the smell and the draconic screams quickly told me that they were troglodytes.

For a moment there was some worry as a few well planed spells caused us some problems, but neither the troglodytes nor the giant lizard would ultimately prove to be any serious threat. These creatures were no worse than anything we’d faced before and if it weren’t for the creature’s abnormally tough hides (and a couple of early missteps) I’d say that this fight would have been practically routine. One of the monsters tried to flee, to get help or warn the others I suspect, but I sent one of my summons howling down the corridor after him. There were more screams. Then the noises soon stopped.

We cautiously explored the cave. These initial chambers were small. We had expected more in the area beyond the gate. There were small huts, food, supplies, but no complex that seemed to me capable of creating the powerfully complex mystic baubles we’d come to know as the dreaded shadow pearls. For a moment it seemed to that we’d discovered a staging area, perhaps a drop off point for the transport of the pearls, or worse . . . we’d gone to the wrong caves and we’d slaughtered some perfectly . . . well, relatively innocent troglodytes. Thankfully Kale brought something to my attention:

“What do you suppose these are?” Kale asked, showing me some unusual rocks. I handled them carefully. They were black, slightly warm to the touch, and they left my hands with an almost greasy after handling them for some reason. They were quite rough on the one side but I noted that parts of the stoned were perfectly smooth and concave. Something suddenly clicked in my mind. I quickly began searching through the stones, finding pieces with similar edges, and putting together the strange puzzle

“The stone looks valuable,” Kale was saying, “we might be able to sell . . .”

I imagine it was the look of comprehension (or horror) on my face that cased him to stop.

“Ah, now you see,” said the severed head from somewhere within my haversack, “this is how the pearls were transported to the surface. That strange substance is something you mortals call bilestone, the hardened excretions of elder evil Holashner, a solid piece of what would otherwise be known as liquid madness. Don’t worry, in its current state it’s relatively benign, and in such small quantities it should be perfectly safe for you and your friends to handle . . .”

The stones dropped from my hands.

“Careful with those,” Kale said, “they look like jade and I figure each piece might be worth fifty gp or so . . . wait, what is it?”

“They’re bilestone . . .” I said.

“Well whatever,” James said, as he quickly gathered up the dreck that I’d dropped, “it doesn’t really matter, unless bilestone is worth more?”

“They originally coated the pearls,” I said, “and that greasy warmth you feel seeping from the stones is the hint of psychosis. It would be likely the same sensation you’d feel if you could touch the insides of lunatic’s mind when the gurgling and giggling is blessedly paused by sleep . . . or sudden death. In its fluid form it’s known as liquid madness and it’s one of the most caustic and foul substances to be encountered on the prime material plane.”

Kale immediately dropped the piece he was handling. His face becoming stern and his jaw setting, Kale was clearly about to put his foot down about something. James merely shrugged.

“Well I’m sure that means that some collectors will pay more,” James suggested.

“I say we leave this foul stuff here,” Kale said, “I’m not bringing anything that might cause insanity back to civilization.”

“To be fair,” I said, “In its solid form it’s relatively benign, it would take long term exposure to cause any side effects in such small quantities . . .”

No sooner did those words pass my lips then I felt their weight. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. The others clearly made the same connection I did as we all turned to look to the deformed troglodytes.

“Well, maybe we could live without more treasure,” James said, “the ship is pretty full already and these hunks are kind of heavy . . .”

“How do you know these things?” Kale asked, suddenly interested (or perhaps it was concern) in my education.

“Say ‘it’s my business to know these things!” the severed head gleefully suggested.

“No! Say “that information would be wasted on you mammal!”” Hop-Toy prodded.

“Magic wasn’t the only thing I studied at the House of the Dragon,” I said, ignoring my faulty counsel, “there is a multitude of things of which I am an expert on, luckily for us this just happens to be one of them.”

“Do you think this is the black bile they were using?” Kiki asked as she opening one of the many strange bottles we’d found. Inside was a nasty black substance . . . but something told me that it wasn’t the infamous black bile.

“That’s not the black bile,” the thing that called itself Chimpman said, “it’s too thick. Not oily enough. Plus it eats through anything short of glass.”

“No,” I said looking over the strange concoction, “this is something else. Black bile is a ticklish liquid; this is some sort of rub or poultice.” I examined the substance with my monocle, “It is magical. If I were to guess I’d say that this is used to hold off or elevate the side effects of disease. I suspect that the bile is elsewhere. I doubt that anything mortal would dare transport it.”

“So that means the pearls weren’t made here,” Kale said, stating the obvious, “and that means . . .”

We all turned to the lone tunnel. It seemed as though we needed to go further underground. Of the eight of us only Churtle seemed happy of the prospect of exploring underground. She gladly pulled off her goggles and took the lead. The rest of us followed.

I’ve never liked exploring underground. From our first experience under Parrot Island, to the trouble we encountered in the Oman ruins, to the horrors we’d already faced here on the Island of Dread, the underground has always been dangerous. I can’t recall a good moment underground. We needed to find the source of these pearls and unfortunately, for the time being, that meant descending into the lightless depths. Thankfully the path seemed relatively straight, with no forks or deviations, few twists or turns, and no branching tunnels. It was like one long rough uneven corridor.

We soon found the chewed body of the lone troglodyte, he hadn’t gotten far, but the troglodyte’s goal was far, far away. It was many hours later before we found ourselves at the rusty gates of the troglodyte village. It wasn’t the depth I felt we needed to attain. Liquid madness probably wouldn’t be so near the surface; it would lie near the depths of hell, someplace where you could feel the weight of the world overhead and the heat of the burning damned bellow. Still, as we approached the village gate, I couldn’t help but feel slightly optimistic. If these Lords of Dread were the source of the pearls we might very shortly end their threat once and for all.

We did plan our attack carefully but it proved to be unnecessary. The village was small and it offered little resistance. We were outnumbered five to one but most of the poor diseased troglodyte villagers could scarcely move never mind attack us. There were some more troglodyte priests, their spells hampered and even inconvenienced us, but their thick hides and minor magic was no match for our swords and spells. The village was soon conquered with only a token amount of fighting. Clearly these monsters had fallen on hard times. It seems these troglodytes had crippled themselves with their involvement in this diabolical scheme. I almost felt sorry for them.

We took our time searching the village, we needed clues to further our investigation, we’d discovered some cave drawing near the entrance, but we couldn’t make heads or tales of the primitive pictures. We’d hoped to find more of that sort of thing here. We’d hoped to discover how these pearls were being made. There wasn’t anything that useful but we did manage to discover three important clues: in one of the cages, lying amongst the dead troglodyte bodies, was a near catatonic oman warrior. In the other similarly lined cage was an apparently healthy troglodyte. The last clue was the strange statue of the troglodyte god. We moved to help the oman first.

The oman looked horrible. He seemed to be suffering from the same illness these troglodytes had contracted. His skin was dry and lumpy and the strange growths that covered his body almost made him unrecognisable as a human. He also seemed to be suffering the effects of a feeblemind spell. He was scarcely able to move because of the disease. He had the mental capacity of a retarded kitten. Thankfully Buffy had the spells she needed to cure him. She quickly removed his disease and then used her powerful restorative magic to heal his mind as well as his body.

“Where am I?” he asked in his own native language.

“Underground,” I said, stating the obvious. I spoke to him in his own language so he could understand. I think my tongue is near perfect now. “You’re near the northern tip of the island. You were captured by troglodytes.”

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I am Tristan Lidu, and these,” I said gesturing to my friends, “are the Swords of Sasserine, we come from a land that is far, far . . .”

“Yes I know of your lands,” the oman interrupted, “your great priest Noltus told me of your people. You are his followers yes?”

“Um, well, no.” I said

I knew who Noltus Innersol was, the priest Vesserin loved talking about Noltus (in fact I suspected he might have a bit of a man crush on him), but aside from Vesserin, Noltus’ presence on the island was all but non existent. He was a ghost. In the three months we’d spent on the island we’d seen neither hide nor hair of him. The man had arrived in Farshore and then left to explore the interior of the island in search of the lost oman tribes weeks before our arrival.

“Then I must leave you,” the oman said, “I have been tasked with a quest to visit the seven villages and deliver a message to the fledgling town of Farshore . . .”

“Actually,” Fredrick said quickly interrupting, “we call Farshore as our home as well now. We’ll return there after our business here is taken care of. We have a ship. Perhaps we might aid you in . . .”

“No,” he said, looking us over and clearly uncertain with what he saw, “Noltus bade me go myself, I thank you for rescuing me, but I must complete this journey alone.”

“Fair enough,” Fredrick said, “but could we at least have your name?”

“I’m sorry,” the native said, “I feel as though I’ve just woken from one nightmare and into another. My name is Jakara and my home was in the shadow of the dread mountain, we were known as the Tiger Clan, but the demon skin walkers destroyed my village and took my people into captivity. I owe you a debt of gratitude but my debt to Noltus is far greater. I left him to do this mission. Had I not been attacked by skin walkers and their dark magics not clouded my mind I would have accomplished it by now. It was in this mind fog that I encountered and was captured by these troglodytes. I have a mission to fulfil and I’m sorry but I must go, but please look for me in Farshore, I hope that one day I might aide you as you have aided me.”

We bade him goodbye, thankfully our directions were quite simple, but it would be a long and difficult journey. The information he’d given us wasn’t immediately useful but we did intend to deal with these skin walkers eventually. Knowing the sorts of spells they had and how the fought would be quite useful at some point but for now there was little we could do except offer condolences for his village and wish him luck. I would have liked to have helped him further, I was sorry he didn’t take us up on our ship offer, but with all the excitement I didn’t think of teleporting him till hours later. My immediate attention was turned to the troglodyte prisoner.

“Free me and I’ll tell you where the priests keep the treasure,” the smallish troglodyte pleaded. Amazingly he used the common tongue. Save for the demons nothing on this island seemed to speak common. I wondered where he’d picked up the language.

“You mean this stuff?” Kiki asked, revealing the swag she’d pilfered while we were tending to the oman. The surprise and disappointment quickly registered on the troglodyte’s face.

“Please free me,” the troglodyte begged, “I will help you find whatever you are searching for. I am not one of these abominations.”

“Indeed,” I said looking him over, “you’re not afflicted with the same disease the others of your kind are, yet you’re kept as a prisoner, explain!”

“These were my people once but they faltered,” he said, “making a deal with the lords of dread . . .”

“Wait I thought you guys were the lords of Dread,” Kale interrupted, echoing all our thoughts, “you were the ones providing the shadow pearls . . .”

“You know of the shadow pearls,” the troglodyte gasped, “could it be the prophecies are correct? I know where they come from. Deep underground. I can show you. Lead you. The way is long but I know the way and the dangers. You are mighty heroes but even you might not find the Lords of Dread and their hidden base.”

“You still haven’t explained why you are in the cage,” I said, “someone or something these monsters think is dangerous might not be in our best interests to release.”

“They have swayed from the true path of Laogzed,” the troglodyte cried, “they have fallen under the influence of these Lords of Dread. They think that this disease is a blessing but it is a curse. I tried to sway my people but the insanity had gone on for too long, they turned on me, and locked me in this cage with the infected dead. They had hoped to convert me, to infect me, but I hold fast to the old ways. Laogzed protects me. Release me and I’ll lead you to these Lords of Dread, I want them destroyed for what they have done to my people, and I believe you are the ones which the ancients spoke of . . . the ones who will destroy these Lords of Dread once and for all.”

Naturally there was some discussion. One doesn’t take an evil murderous monster like a troglodyte into the group without some discussion. He seemed suitably motivated but that was no guarantee that he wouldn’t betray us. Plus he stank. One must never forget the smell when considering taking troglodytes into a group. But that was a good sign in a way though, part of me wondered if this little fellow was some sort of shape shifter, and the fact that he stank like a troglodyte should told me that his form wasn’t the result of an illusion anyways. I felt there was something odd though.

“What’s your name?” Kale asked as we finished our discussion.

“I am Irgzid,” he said, “Irgzid Uzeye.”

“Welcome aboard Irgzid Uzeye,” Kale said as he opened the cage, but as the troglodyte moved to leave the cage Kale added in a low voice, “don’t ever cross us, you’re under our protection as long as you help us . . . but don’t ever cross us.”

The troglodyte’s eyes opened in surprise but he nodded, silently agreeing to head Kales warning.

The last thing we did in that putrid smelling village was look over the strange alter of Laogzed. I admit I knew nothing about this deity but Buffy saw that there was something wrong almost right away.

“He’s got two heads,” Buffy said scratching her head, “he’s not supposed to have two heads.”

“Demigorgon has two heads . . .” I mumbled. It was a weak link though, for although Demigorgon did in fact have two heads, the resemblance between him and this curious alter was slight or coincidental at best. The statue of the lizard god had a proper head on top of his shoulders and another which was seemingly growing out of its belly.

“Well that could be it,” Buffy mused, “religions don’t change over night. This could be one step away from Laogzed and one step closer to true demon worship. Not that I think there’s much difference.”

It was interesting that Buffy saw some credence to my suspicions but I’ll not confirm the demon princes involvement with these shadow pearls yet. Things were starting to add up though.

Our new guide showed us the route we needed to take. There were three exits out of the village, one which we’d entered, a second which Irgzid assured us led to other, non-infected, non-corrupted troglodyte tribes, and a third route which was accessed by a very rickety looking elevator. We’d had bad luck with mechanical lifts in the past so we all insisted that our guide demonstrate how to operate the thing first. I used my boots of levitation to accompany him down and to ensure there was no funny business. The device proved to be usable. It creaked and screeched when Kale lowered himself but it managed to support his weight. Despite those few tense moments we all managed to get down without any difficulty or harm.

“Now we just have to hope those troglodytes we left in the village don’t cut the cords on us in case we have to come back this way in an emergency,” I said, mainly to myself, but Kiki had clearly over heard me.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about them . . .” Kiki said nonchalantly.

“Why?” I asked, almost dreading the answer.

“They were helpless,” Kiki said, “and Buffy said they’d all die of the disease anyways. It would seem kind of cruel to just leave them to a long and agonising death don’t you think?”

“So you just . . .”

“I did what needed to be done,” Kiki said with a serious look, one that seemed out of place on her normally cheerful face, “I did what Kale couldn’t do.”

Strangely that didn’t bother me. I felt that maybe it should have . . . but it honestly didn’t. These were creatures that had willingly participated in trying to destroying the world. They got what they deserved. Kiki had perhaps been kinder then the rest of us though . . .

We walked another hour or so (it’s difficult to tell the time out of the sun) before I found a suitable place to camp. My magical house provided the protection we wanted in this unfamiliar pit. We decided to leave Irgzid to sleep outside of the cabin. We didn’t trust him yet . . . and he stunk. We set up watches as usual though. If we were to come under attack in the night we’d need to protect our guide at all costs.

Only the dead should go underground,
Cthulhu dreams

Considering how poorly this day started I must say I was very pleased with how it ended. Bad luck was followed by near disaster. Things got better but only after they got worse.

We’d scanned the shoreline for as long as we dared. If we needed to attack this monster I wanted it to be in shallow water. If we attacked him and couldn’t finish the job it would make things far, far worse then they already were. Right now Emraag attacked ships out of greed or spite, if we were to invoke his wrath I don’t doubt for a moment he would actively search for ships to destroy, and that could spell disaster for establishing shipping lanes. If we attacked the dragon turtle and he simply dove under the water and escaped it would be terrible . . . but as we scanned the shoreline we didn’t see a beach anywhere. All the water all along the coast seemed to drop off sharply.

“So now what?” James asked. He’d been hesitant to use the Sea Wyvern for this operation, and with good reason, Emraag could have shredded the Wyvern like a child would paper. Thankfully I had the foresight to not risk the ship.

“I guess we move onto plan ‘B’,” I said with a shrug.

“What’s plan ‘B’,” Kale asked, his eyes narrowing.

“That’s where Buffy casts water walk, we put all the treasure into one of the dories, and then you guys walk the boat as close to the shore as possible before using those pipes to summon the beast. I hover somewhere invisibly behind the turtle to launch a surprise attack if diplomacy should fail.”

“That sounds dangerous . . .” Kale muttered.

“Oh no,” I said, “I’ll be perfectly safe. I’ll be way up in the air all invisible and flying. I’d be more worried for you guys.”

“That’s what I . . .” Kale started, but I cut him off.

“Remember Buffy, if that monster dives underwater to try to escape, I’ll need you to dispel that magic so everyone can give chase. I’ll try and haste everyone . . .”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Kale interrupted, “This is the best plan you can come up with?”

“I’ll summon the biggest, meanest, monster imaginable and drop it right behind the thing, the rest of you will charge it. We’ll have surprise and the greedy thug will be surrounded. It’s the best scenario I can manage at this point. Big plans should be kept simple. There’s less change of people screwing up that way.”

“That thing’s a dragon right?” Kale asked, “its’ breath is fire or something?”

“That’s correct,” I said, “Fire or something. if it breaths on you . . . duck.”

“Look Tristan I don’t think you’re putting enough thought into this . . .”

“Our first plan is no longer feasible,” I said, “and yes, I didn’t consult with you when formulating an alternate plan, but what else would you change? There’s going to be danger in any assault on this beast, hopefully Fredrick can negotiate a reasonable settlement, but if not we need to put him down. That’s going to be ugly no matter how we face him. At least this way we can surround him and hopefully put an end to his evil once and for all.”

There was some minor discussion, some of the plans were finalised, details filled in, but my framework remained. Buffy cast water walk and we all moved into position. I felt slightly guilty for taking a far less dangerous share of the action but I’d promised Lavinia not to knowingly place myself in any danger. I felt I’d failed her once (when I promised not to change all those weeks ago), it was a foolish promise, but I felt I couldn’t let her down again.

I watched as Fredrick pulled out those strange pipes and dipped them into the water. The noises he’d made a week ago had been just dreadful but of the eight of us Fredrick was the only one that showed any real talent. Malfus had taken time away from his bar to show Fredrick some simple tunes and he’d practiced diligently the entire trip north. Sadly I didn’t notice any real improvements in his performance. Still the instrument was designed to sound underwater. Perhaps the music would sound better when it was played where it belonged . . .

Fredrick began playing. I thought I could hear the strange murmurings. Bubbles from the horn were the only thing that marred the otherwise calm surface of the bay. Fredrick finished the tune and nothing seemed to happen. He began playing again . . . suddenly a massive wave rocked the life boat and nearly toppled everyone standing on the surface . . . only it wasn’t a wave . . . not to the horizon that suddenly crested the surface of the bay . . . more like a ripple to him . . . the kind you get when you drop a pebble into a pond. It was an island with eyes and teeth . . . and that was just his head. Fredrick had somehow summoned Emraag the Glutton!

My eyes couldn’t process what they were seeing for the longest time. How could something so massive live? Breath? Exist? Emraag was almost as long as the Sea Wyvern, easily as wide, and without a doubt easily weighed just as much. I’d heard stories of Emraag flipping or crushing ships, I’d just had no idea with what ease the beast must have been able to accomplish those feats. I silently flew the length of the beast and hovered somewhere behind him. Even though I was fairly high up, and Fredrick and Kale and the others were some twenty feet away from Emruug, I could barely see my companions over Emruug’s wide broad shell.

I caught snippets of the negotiations, Fredrick did most of the talking and Kale and James assisted, but Emruug’s loud booming voice was perfectly clear.

“Who dares disturb the slumber of Emruug the mighty?” The beast bellowed.

“Hail mighty Emruug,” Fredrick said, “we come to offer you a tribute . . .”

Much of the rest was very difficult to hear. I could guess from his mannerisms and the snippets that did reach me that Fredrick seemed to use flattering words, Kale seemed to interject occasionally, and James didn’t seem to anger the monster any. In fact, seeing as Emruug didn’t immediately attack, I believe that the negotiations were going quite well.

“You have my attention puny mortals,” Emruug rumbled, “I won’t immediately devour you. You may beg for my mercy. I may even grant you a boon if you can prove yourselves worthy.”

I saw the others present Lavinia’s proposal but heard very little of the actual conversation. Emruug’s response was unmistakable thought:

“You have pleased me,” Emruug sort of chortled, “I shall spare you, your ship, and its crew for the duration of one week.”

That wasn’t going to be good enough. The others knew that as well. I could see them tensing up.

“Do not press your luck!” the massive brute snapped as Fredrick tried to negotiate further, “talking bores me, and I get hungry when I’m bored.”

I knew now we’d need to resort to violence. It was a shame really, I didn’t much care for it myself, but sometimes it was necessary. It was the only thing these beasts seemed to understand.

“Very well,” Emruug was saying to Kale, “you may ask me some questions. I will answer if it pleases me,” Kale quickly asked our questions, but the glutton proved to be a less then ideal source of information, “I know nothing of that,” he rumbled, “or that, I know nothing of these Crimson pirates except that they offered an appropriate tribute. No, I know nothing of the Lords of Dread, nor do I care to learn more. They are filthy beasts who only live on the edge of my waters because I can’t stand the smell of them. Killing them would be a chore and eating them unthinkable. I believe the pirates called those water Gallivant Cove, named after the vessel I sunk there years ago, but they live on the other side of the Cove near the three faces in the hills. The entrance to their caves sits far to the south of the Gallivant just east of the cove’s deepest point . . .”

As the directions began spilling out of the massive monster I began summoning. I used an ability I’d been working on and I tried it out for the first time. I managed to complete the spell without any words and thus no sound. A massive multi eyed whale appeared directly behind Emruug. I immediately begin augmenting an orb of cold to accompany my horror.

“Now you’ve outlived your usefulness!” I screamed at turtle as I lobbed my orb towards his broad back, “Your reign of terror ends here!”
My attack landed squarely in the middle of his back. It was impossible to miss. He roared. My multi-eyed killer whale bit into his hind leg turning the water crimson. Kale surged forward, his blade slicing deep into Emruug’s neck showering him in gore! Emruug opened his massive mouth and sprayed scalding hot steam at everyone, and then, much to my surprise, he tried to swim away! He dove under the waves. I’d expected him to flee if things once he felt our wrath but not even I could have foreseen that he’s turn tail this soon! Buffy dismissed her water walk spell so that the other members of the Swords of Sasserine could give chase. I could only watch as the water seemed to boil and churn crimson.

After an eternity of almost twelve seconds Kiki pulled Fredrick to the surface.

“Buffy!” She screamed, Fredrick’s face and shoulders looked fine, but his eyes were rolled back in his head. He wasn’t moving. When his mouth fell open dark black blood just poured out. “Buffy! I think Fredrick is dead!”

I almost screamed as well.

Buffy worked her magic. I was thankful that the true extent of Fredrick’s injuries remained below water. Kiki would later explain how horrid they’d been. Emruug had retreated some thirty feet below the surface and snapped at anyone who had gotten close. Fredrick had just lunged under when he’d nearly been bitten in half! Buffy was truly a powerful cleric though, as capable with her healing arts as I was with my magic, and moments after she plied her arts the colour slowly returned to Fredrick’s cheeks.

Once we knew Fredrick would live we were finally able to savour our victory! Emruug was dead! The swords of Sasserine had dealt with the monster bellow the waves. I felt such pride. My small group had now destroyed two of the greatest monsters on this Island. By the time the Sea Wyvern arrived (Summoned by my signal) we’d pulled the massive corpse from the ocean floor and flipped him onto his back. It was long hard work but we cracked through that tough shell and started salvaging the meat. Perhaps it was a testament to my persistence or a small amount of acceptance on Kale’s part, but not once did he complain about harvesting the meat. Still, when I asked Kiki to fetch me one of his eyes I thought it best not to test Kale’s new found understanding.

It was almost dark when I decided that I should return to Farshore to report to Lavinia. Churtle’s tiny kitchen aboard the Sea Wyvern proved to be far too small to process the quantity of flesh we’d harvested. James’ phanatom crew climbed and hung hundreds of ribbons of flesh from the rigging to dry in the wind and afternoon sun. Mostly they spent the rest of the day scaring off seagulls though. The Sea Wyvern looked like a truly macabre vessel. Thankfully we had plenty of sea salt to properly pack three barrels of meat. That at the very least wouldn’t spoil. But I wanted to save everything we’d harvested. I returned to Farshore with a Haversack full of flesh.

“How did it go,” Lavinia asked when I suddenly appeared in her study. She was unflappable. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Not so well,” I said, “he would only allow us to ply his waters for a week.”

“Then why are you smiling?” she asked.

“I made him another offer.” I said, trying to suppress my grin.

“Another offer? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse,” I said sitting on her desk, “now is your cook awake?”

“I imagine so,” Lavinia said, she was clearly curious, which was good. I liked to see her in suspense once in a while. It wouldn’t do her knowing all the answers all the time.

“Good,” I said, “Because part of the deal included hundreds of pounds of dragon turtle meat. I’ve brought about a hundred pounds worth. I think you should have a banquette for your friends and supporters. Keep your friends close . . . oh, and invite the Meravanchies as well, keep you’re enemies even closer. I think you would do well to remind everyone the sort of heroes you command. Speaking of that, have these rumours started up again?”

“Yes,” Lavinia sighed, “as we predicted, almost the same night the Sea Wyvern left the harbour.”

“Then it’s doubly important to remind them of their place.” I said. I’d hoped that the scare I put into Avner would have been enough but I suspected that there was one more person I’d need to deal with before Lavinia had any peace, “I’m going to drop this mess off in the kitchen. Do you think you could sweet talk your maid into heating some water?”

“I think that can be arranged,” she said with a sly little smile, “you want a bath?”

“Maybe . . .” I said, trying to be coy, “and maybe I’d like someone to wash my hair. You happen to know where I could find someone this hour of the night?”

“Maybe . . .” she said echoing me.

“Ok,” I said hopping down off her desk, “I’m going to dump this stuff off for in the kitchen and then take a brisk walk. It’s hard getting a good walk aboard the Wyvern. Everything should be ready by the time I get back . . . yes?”

“Maybe . . .” she said. For a moment I thought she might stick her tongue out at me. I wasn’t going to get anything meaningful out of her till later. I almost felt giddy at the thought. Still I had work to do and I wouldn’t be able to relax until it was done.

I found the cook in the kitchen. She wasn’t what I’d call pleased when I began emptying my haversack. It was all good thick rosy hunks of meat. Much of it would be wonderful in a stew but a few choice pieces would have made beautiful roasts. Thankfully Lavinia had a kitchen (and a staff) capable of rescuing all that beautiful meat. Unfortunately they’d be at it most of the night. I felt slightly guilty for bringing them all that work and then just leaving but I had other matters to attend to. Besides a true chief should have felt honoured to have been given the opportunity to work with such a rare and unusual delicacy, in a way I was doing her a favour, and in time I’d hope that she’ll look back and remember this moment for the crowning achievement it was.

I walked outside. It was dark, but I didn’t take any chances. I calmly strolled into the darkness, away from the view of Lavinia’s windows, and then used my ring to turn invisible. I activated my boots as I flew over to the Meravanchi house. I slowly peered into each of the windows till I found the one I wanted . . . then, using one of the new spells I’d learned from a scroll I’d bought, I dimension hopped through the wall and into the house. Manthalay always struck me as someone who would work late. I was almost tempted to peer over his shoulder at what he was writing at his desk . . . but that would have been rude. I quietly reached into my Haversack to retrieve the treasure Kiki had so diligently retrieved for me. I quickly and silently flew over to the sideboard and found a suitable location for the prize amongst the whisky and brandy bottles. I set the thing down so it would be staring right at him when he looked up.

Emruug’s eye was only about the size of a human head despite the glutton’s massive bulk.

I discovered Manthalay’s bedroom door open so I decided to fly to a quieter corner of the house before using my magic to escape. I then returned to Lavinia’s as quickly as I could. Seeing Mathalay receive his comeupins was tempting, but the prospect of a relaxing warm bath and a soft warm bed were just too wonderful to pass up.

I was almost to the door when I heard the scream,
Cthulhu dreams

Eight dead. I can hardly believe my ears. The town was strewn with bodies. No one seems to have escaped injury . . . but somehow only eight villagers lie dead in our chapel.

The clean up operation began almost immediately. Smarnil oversaw the burial of the dead. A ditch would hold the pirates. Cart after cart carried their grim weight through the town and up towards the woods where a trench had been dug. It was hard to imagine. There were nearly two hundred dead. I did some calculations and found that the initial trench had been too small . . . so many corpses. I was thankful for our Oman guests, the zombies were tireless workers, and if not for them, much of the ghoulish work would have been by hand.

At first the work seemed as insurmountable, as insurmountable the very battle we’d just won, but the people of Fareshore and the Isle of Dread were no strangers to hardship. The dead were everywhere. Bodies were pulled from the harbour, from the beach, from alleys and buildings all around the town, and some needed to be pried loose from Churtle’s vicious traps. The log trap in particular was a truly gruesome display of kobold ingenuity. Three corpses needed to be cut free as no amount of pulling seemed able to dislodge them. Special heed was taken with the demons. No living thing wanted to go near or handle those unworldly remains. Special care was taken with Vanthus as well. His shattered form was swept up and dumped into a barrel

Our locals would lie in state until we dug the graves.

. . .

I found Lavinia crying this afternoon. She was alone in her office, the curtains were drawn, and she tried to cover up when she heard me enter.

“Lavinia,” I said as I moved around her desk to embrace her, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” she said wiping her eyes, “I was just alone with my thoughts.”

“It’s about Vanthus isn’t it?” I asked. It had only been a few hours since I’d dealt with that monster, and her tears after that encounter had been of relief and joy, but now, here in the dark, I felt that these were tears of sorrow, “you shouldn’t waste a drop of pity on that monster.”

“It’s not that,” she whispered, meaning that was exactly what it was, “it’s just that with everything that’s happened I somehow haven’t been able to mourn people properly.”

It took a while for me to make the connection.

“You’re mourning the brother that you knew as a child,” I whispered, “There’s nothing wrong with that, I know he was once your closest friend . . .” I felt Lavinia shudder, “but something changed in him, and he wasn’t the same person you once knew.”

“He changed,” Lavinia said, “he was a demon . . .”

“He’d made a pact with demons,” I agreed, knowing quite a bit about this topic, “he’s given up his soul of his own free will. Somewhere, somehow, he became a twisted individual.”

“Maybe if I’d stayed with him . . .”

“You can’t think of what might have been Lavinia, that’s a pointless exercise, we have no way of knowing if you could have saved him or simply became one of his victims.”

“Maybe we could have saved him,” she cried, “turned him, brought him back into the light . . .”

“Lavinia,” I snapped, I was growing frustrated with her crying. It didn’t suit her. She was simply being irrational. It wasn’t like her to give over to self serving pity, “you know that wouldn’t have worked, you know what he intended, and you know he had to be stopped. Everything you said to that monster was correct. Stop trying to re-write history!”
That brought a sudden influx of tears. For a moment I thought I’d gone too far. In her current mindset she was in no shape to hear the truth. A sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry is what she probably needed, but she held me tight, and I kept my arms around her. I found I could do little else. I wanted to help her, to comfort her, and yet I felt that I no longer knew how.

“I’m alone,” she whispered after a moment. I said nothing, afraid my words would bring even more tears, “Tristan,” She said louder, “I’m alone now.”

“You’re not alone,” I said before I could stop myself, “you have me. You have my friends. You have the Jade Ravens . . .”

“I’m the last of my family,” she said, “Vanthus was the last of my family . . .”

“That’s not true,” I said, “You have relatives in Cauldron. Maybe others elsewhere. You still have family, you still have friends. You’re not alone unless you want to be alone. Now,” I said pulling myself free and standing up, “I meant what I said, you’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere, but I don’t like this crying alone in the dark. It’s not healthy. You’ve been through a lot, you’ve got good reasons to morn, but you mustn’t do it alone. You have friends you can lean on, people you can trust, and if you ever get lonely come see me. I’ll be there.”

Lavinia and I looked at each other for the longest time. The tears didn’t quite vanish but I seemed to have stemmed the flow. She finally stood and wrapped her arms around me.

“Don’t ever change,” Lavinia whispered into my shoulder, “please don’t ever change.”

“I won’t,” I lied, feeling horribly guilty about it, “I’ll always be the same person . . .”

. . .

“They say the Vanderboren family is cursed,” a gruff sounding voice said at the table behind me, Kiki half turned to see who it was, but I felt my hackles go up and I found it impossible to move. If the man had any sense, or his friends knew any better, the conversation would end now, but sadly this wasn’t going to be the case.

“I heard it was Lavinia who Vanthus was after,” the foolish man continued, “I heard that he wouldn’t have even come to Farshore . . .”

I realised that the bar had suddenly gone quiet, I also realised I was suddenly standing (though my back was still to the boor), and it was about then that I noticed that my hand was bleeding. I glanced down at the bar and then up at a very nervous looking Malfus . . . seemed I owed the barkeep a new glass mug. I slowly turned to face the lout.

“Quiet Clem,” a very wise farmer said to his obnoxious and clearly drunken friend, “that’s one of Lavinia’s men, one of d’em Swords of Sasserine . . .”

“What’s she gonna do,” the drunk snapped, “we got laws here, maybe her lot won’t follow em’ but we can always put Manthalay back in charge. He’d sort you right out you smug witch, walking around town like you own the place.”

He didn’t say witch. I’d spent the better part of the morning helping to burry the dead. I didn’t recognise the drunk from any of the work crews I’d overseen and I suspect that he was one of a group of villagers that Manthalay had working for him and his own business interests. By his cloths I guess he was a miner.

“Before we continue,” I said, holding back by rage with every ounce of will I possessed, “let me see if I understand your argument. Vanthus came to Farshore to get his sister, whom he last saw in Sasserine five months ago, before he left the city forever, which was just after he murdered his own mother and father, but not before he could burn every bridge he had in that city. You’re saying that although he knew about Farshore, and although the pirates already had business on the Isle of Dread, it was his sister he was after. He sailed all the way south, with all his men, siege engines, golems, sorcerers, and demons just to get his sister. On top of that, the Crimson Fleet, a truly horrid harem of murdering pirates, decided to commit all those resources so Vanthus could get his sister back? I’ve heard tales like that before but I was able to tell fact from fiction at about the age of six. You still need to work at that . . .”

“I hear it was her what called him here,” the man said as he stood, “That the Vanderboren house is cursed. I know what happened to her parents, I know what happened to her on the way over here, and I know we ain’t had nothing but bad luck since she got here! She’s a demon like her brother.”

There were a few nods and murmurs of approval around the bar. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“This little speck of civilization just survived an attack by the dreaded Crimson Fleet! An assault that would have been powerful enough to sack a small city! You’re actually claiming that Lavinia has bad luck? That she was in cahoots with the crimson fleet? Are you serious? Too what end? Do you even know what’s coming out of that fat gob of yours before you open it? I mean you honestly think that you’d be better off if Lavinia hadn’t come, hadn’t tried honouring her parent’s memory, and hadn’t tried helping the people of Farshore? Right now there’s a harbour full of sailing ships, a couple of experienced captains in town, and a couple of warehouses full of goods that until now had no way of getting to any buyers. We’re about to set up trade routes to Sasserine and you’re daft enough to claim that you’d have been better off without Lavinia? I suppose you had a sailing ship made out of bamboo somewhere around here that I don’t know about?”

“All you do is talk,” the man snarled, Kiki would tell me later that his hands had balled into fists, and Churtle stepped between us, ready to deal with the thug should he take any steps towards me, “Manthalay is a man of action . . .”

“That’s where you got me wrong,” I growled, “I’m all about action. You keep this talk up and I’ll give you your fill of action. The Vanderboren family did have a curse on it, that curse was named Vanthus Vanderboren, and I’m the one who actioned his ass into oblivion. That’s what I do. I action people to death. I action people with horribly violent irreversible action. Now let me ask you: do you really want some action?”

I felt a shift in the atmosphere of the bar. People were suddenly very nervous. I felt bad afterwards, I should have acted with greater poise and restraint, but the mention of that horrible moment where Vanthus tried to dominate his sister was still too fresh a wound on my mind to let it pass. I knew violence would solve nothing at this point (except to further demonize me amongst Manthalay supporters) but at that moment I wanted nothing more then for that oaf to pull a knife on me.

His friends desperately tried to claw him down, “Don’t be a fool Clem,” one hissed, “she could kill you as easy as looking at you.” But the drunken fool pulled away from his friends and seemed to hear none of their warnings.

“You want ta kill me witch,” he said stepping around the table with his arms wide open, “go ahead. Show everyone here what a hero you really are! I’ve seen those things you summon . . .”

“Alright Clem,” Malfus said stepping out from behind the bar, “you’ve had too much to drink. I don’t want any violence in my Tavern. “

“You gonna take her side?” the drunk snarled.

“Let me ask you something Clem,” I said, “was it Avner or Manthalay who gave you these ideas? Wee Jas knows you’re not smart enough to think of them yourself.”

The man’s dimwitted face registered shock long enough for me to surmise my deduction had been perfectly astute. The Meravanchies would pay.

Malfus stepped between the drunk, Churtle, and me. The man’s friends quickly caught hold of him.

“Yes, take him away,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand as I returned to my stool, “he’s clearly not the problem. Someone’s been filling his head with ideas, and that can be a dangerous thing to do with drunks.”

I know my words didn’t help the situation any. My words spurred on the patsy as he struggled to get his hands on me, but I paid him no mind and I didn’t flinch as his rough hands came dangerously close to grabbing me. I was no longer interested in turning him into a floor stain. It seemed the Meravanchi clan wasn’t content to abide by the election results and it seemed likely that I was going to have to get involved.

“Could you turn him into a frog?” Kiki asked glancing up at the red faced buffoon.

‘He’d make a perfect frog,’ Hop-Toy croaked.

“Frogs tend to be princes,” I said with a sarcastic shrug, “don’t ask me why, but it’s in the witch’s handbook. I could do a donkey or a sheep with him.”

. . .

“Hello Avner,” I said through grated teeth, as the man entered his uncle’s office, I’d hoped to meet with his uncle but the help had insisted that the master was out, “might I have a word you?”

“Sure . . .” Avner said, looking a touch worried.

“Alone?” I asked, nodding to the servants who flanked the doorway.

“Oh . . . yes, well we have no secrets here . . .”

“Surely you’re not worried about being alone in a room with a woman are you?” I asked.

Avner licked his lips and glanced over at the butler and maid.

“Of course not,” Avner said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand, “you can wait outside. I’ll call if I need anything.”

I crossed the room as the door shut behind them.

“Alright you sad excuse for a human what the hell are you up to?” I snapped, my voice loud enough to carry my anger, but quiet enough so curious ears would have to strain to hear.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Avner gasped with mock surprise.

“Cut the act,” I snarled, “you’re supporters aren’t tactful enough to keep you and your uncle’s involvement a secret. Stop the smear campaign against Lavinia. I’ve put up with an awful lot of you these last few months, I won’t bother listing your deficiencies as I have other business this afternoon, but this is an all time low for even you. Lavinia is our rightfully elected mayor. Our victory over the Crimson Fleet is scarcely a day old and already you’re trying to plan the seed of failure in people’s minds? I want it to stop Avner . . . or so help me, I’ll do something, and I’m not exactly sure what that is yet, because nobody has ever deliberately disobeyed me before. It’ll be unpleasant that’s for sure. And I’ll likely be memorable, I’ll need to set an example of you, you see, but as to exactly what I’m still unsure. My mind is suitably twisted to come up with something horrible though . . . I hope you understand. Oh, and pass this message on to your horrible uncle, I want him to know that I’m well aware of his continued political aspirations and I’m here to crush them. If he continues I’ll need to do something equally horrible to him. Now don’t forget to tell him. I hate repeating myself. And remember I can turn invisible, fly, and teleport. If you think I’m bluffing, or incapable of something truly horrible, then just test me. There’s no safe place in this town. Good day.”

Avner had grown quite pale by the time I finished speaking and had no witty or flippant remarks. I left him in his uncle’s office.

. . .

“Excuse me,” I said to the dwarf behind the mound of paperwork, “Mr Khartan? I’m Tristan Lidu, you interviewed me for a news paper article a few months back. Do you remember me?”

The gruff looking dwarf glanced up at me, his ink smudged hands adjusted his steel rimmed glasses, and his other hand gently stroked his neatly trimmed beard. He regarded me coolly.

“No,” he said, “but I interview a lot of people and write a lot of articles. Maybe if you told me what the story was about.”

“My companions and I saved Sasserine? We all received the spiral?”

“Oh yes,” Khartan said, “I remember that. But I’ve interviewed you already and that story’s old. What do you want?”

“Well I saw your latest story about the massacre at Greenrock . . .” I held up the latest copy of the paper. The details of the story were sketchy and the wood cut illustration look childish at best. The walls weren’t even right as Greenrock had log walls and the illustration showed stone!

“Yes, well,” the scribe shrugged, “not our best work but there where no traveler reports and that’s all I could sketch together from council sources.”

“That doesn’t interest me,” I said folding the paper to focus on the other half of the paper, “I’m the one who reported the fort’s destruction. What I’m curious about is this section below the main article. Are people truly interested about gossip and unusual weather reports?”

“Sometimes,” he mumbled, “what you fail to realise is that we print once a month, we use fine print, and have over a page to fill. It’s a struggle sometimes to fill out . . . wait did you say that you visited fort Greenrock?”

“I’m wondering if you might be interested in publishing my diaries then,” I said, “I’m sure it would make adequate filler, and it’s filled with all manor of adventure including our discovery of the wreckage of fort Greenrock.”

“What sort of adventure?” the dwarf asked raising an eyebrow.

“Our battles with pirates, demons, dinosaurs, and our exploration of the Isle of Dread,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, “also I have the accounts of the Crimson Fleet’s attempts to pillage the distant colony of Farshore and it’s resident’s valiant defence under the leadership of Lavinia Vanderboren.”

Khartan sat up.

“I might be interested in something like that,” he said.

“I only have a few conditions,” the dwarf rolled his eyes at that and slouched back over his work, “I’ll let you have exclusive rights to publish the serial format of my diary but I maintain the rights over their collected printing. I ask that you publish the works sequentially but you may use more recent entries for news material if you’d like. Lastly, although I know you’ll want to edit and trim my entries, please try to keep the spirit of my words whenever and where ever possible, and never ever put words in my mouth. Are these terms agreeable?”

“Perhaps,” he said, “I’d like to see some of the articles first.”

I dropped the first bundle of my translated diaries onto his desk with a thump.

“Those start with my meeting of Lavinia Vanderboren,” I said, “One week before the events with the Lotus Dragons. Now I have a meeting with the Dawn council and then the Witchwardens, that should give you ample time to decide if it’s something you’d be interested in. If everything is agreeable I’ll set up offices somewhere nearby and you can forward payments and questions there.”

. . .

“So these are the latest scrolls?” I asked Eric, Blenak’s assistant.

“Yes,” he said as he helped me sort through the bundles, “we got a lot from a foreclosure sale in Monmurg, and a selection from Greyhawk. Most of this Monmurg stuff looks like junk but I guess Blenak’s supplier picked up the most popular spells from the academies of Greyhawk.”

“So how come he’s buying all this stuff?” I asked, “Is business picking up?”

“Not really,” Eric said as he put another scroll onto the conjuration pile for me to peruse, “we have what the master calls ‘the usual rabble’ but I guess he’s making good money in trade off of most of the stuff you’re crew are selling him. He’s always asking about armour and rings to his suppliers. I think he’s trying to stay ahead of the curve.”

“Get what we need before we need it?” I said, “The old man knows his business. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. I’m a bit surprised that he’s buying specifically for us now but I’m guessing he knows what he’s doing.”

“You better believe I do!” Blenak snapped from behind us, causing Eric and myself to jump, “what’s this? Both my old and new lab assistants conspiring against me? Let’s figure out how to pull a fast one on old Blenak? Eric go mix orders! Tristan, don’t talk with the help, it puts ideas in their heads!”

“Blenak,” I said hugging the old man, “you surprised me.”

“Of course I did,” he said adjusting his glasses, “I can sneak up on any shirking lab assistant anywhere. Special slippers you see. It seems the magic still works! When did you get here? I was only out for a bite to eat.”

“Only a few minutes, Eric was just showing me the latest scrolls.”

“Eric should know that only the boss gets to show off the new merchandise,” Blenak said as he watched the poor maligned assistant move towards the labs, and waited for Eric to leave the room before turning back to me. “I must admit when I didn’t see you for the last few weeks I was beginning to worry something might have happened with those damned crimson . . .”

“That threat is finished,” I said, relief spread across Blenak’s face, “that’s partly why I’m here, with an overwhelming victory comes the spoils of war! We’ve got more magic items to exchange and I’ve got a new list of items we’d like to buy.”

“Let me see,” he said as he took my list, “hmmm, much of this is doable, and I think I know a couple of local shops for anything not in my stockroom.”

“One more thing,” I said before Blenak could disappear into the maze of his back rooms, “do you still enchant items?”

“Well now Tristan, I did those glasses for you as a special favour, the enchanting business is a young mans game, it’s physically and emotionally draining. Plus there’s no respect for magic these days! Back when I was starting in this business coming across an enchanted item was a marvel. Adventures would spend their entire lives searching for one, warriors would base their entire fighting style around a magical long sword or axe, but these days, seems every city or town has at least one shop specializing in magic. Warriors BUY items they want! Too much of the wonder has gone out of the business. Magic is now just a commodity like anything else . . .”

“Well,” I sighed, “you’re probably not going to like to hear this next request then . . .”

“What . . .” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well you remember that spiked chain you helped me track down?”

“Kobold sized? Vaguely.”

“Well Churtle and I have put together the money to get it enchanted.”

“And you want me to do it?” Blenak groaned.

“We can take it elsewhere,” I said, “I’m sure there’s still someone who does that sort of thing . . .”

“It was a cold iron chain if memory serves,” Blenak said as he scratched his ear, “that stuff is especially difficult to work with . . . what sort of enchantments are you planning?”

“Well I suspect that we’ll be facing demons . . .”

“Hence the reasons for the cold iron.”

“Right no now we’re thinking of turning the chain into a holy weapon.”

“That pricey work . . .”

“I’ve managed to raise a little over twenty thousand . . .”

“My god! Were those pirates floating on gilded boats? I think I’m entirely in the wrong line of work! Fine I’ll enchant this chain for you, but only because I don’t trust others to take care of it.”

. . .

I just returned home after my extended tour of the seven villages when I was told there was a town council meeting. Churtle and I rushed back to Lavinia’s mansion to see what was up.

“Tristan!” Lavinia said as I entered her study, “you couldn’t have gotten back at a more opportune time! There’s a council meeting . . .”

“Yes I heard!” we quickly embraced, it had been two weeks, “time waits for no one! What’s the meeting about?”

“Well the ship is completely refurbished and loaded. Amella leaves first light tomorrow,” she said looking over her notes, “and there’s other business . . . I suppose you’ll want a bath?”

“Well yes, but . . .”

“There’s scarcely enough time for that before the meeting so you’ll have to hurry! Also I want to know how the tour went. I guess you’ll have to tell me about it as you wash up, I can give you a brief synopsis of our current business. You’ll want to hear this.”

. . .

My hair was still wet as we entered the chapel. The council had already assembled and were waiting on us. The rest of the Swords of Sasserine were in attendance, as were the Jade Ravens, and so was my priest of Wee Jas, Smarnil. I was surprised to see a couple of Oman and phanaton present as well. I’d though all of our allies had returned home by now, but seeing as they remained close to James I couldn’t help but wonder if the rogue had picked them up as crew.

“Well it seems that now that the lady has finally arrived we can get down to business,” Mathalay said, “I do hope we won’t keep you too long your grace.”

I heard Churtle give off a low growl. Her hands rested on the newly enchanted spiked chain she kept wrapped about her waist. Manthalay was no peacock like Avner but Churtle had grown strong over the past few months. Her scales had grown hard and resilient, her tiny frame was now more powerful then my own, and her skills both mystical and martial were quickly improving. Churtle had insisted on accompanying me to the seven villages to act as my body guard and she didn’t once seem incapable of filling that role. She was nearly as capable as our top swordsmen. Not quite, but nearly. If Churtle attacked Manthalay I had to think that Churtle would probably mop the floor with him.

“Tristan had just returned from a visit to the seven villages,” Kiki said, “I’d thought that a man who wanted to be mayor would be better informed.”

That bought out a few chuckles. Manthalay wisely choose to ignore the comment.

“If everyone would take their seats we can begin.” Lavinia said as she assumed the mayor’s seat.

. . .

“If we are to establish trade routes we’ll need to do something about Emraag the Glutton,” Manthalay was saying, “this monster must be dealt with as all beasts; he needs to be put down.”

“While I agree something needs to be done,” Lavinia said, “and this possible pirate nest in Gallivant Cove investigated, I think it would be far more beneficial and far less dangerous if we negotiated with the monster instead.”

“How would that be better?” Mathalay snapped, “You’re far too soft . . .”

“Like it or not the Glutton is a force to be reckoned with, the Crimson Fleet were scared of him, but arranging a deal with such a beast could be beneficial too our cause. If we can talk him into recognising our flag, bribe him into giving only our ships safe passage, we could effectively maintain a trade monopoly in these waters. Emraag could offer some security from other predators that might haunt these waters. Killing such a monster might be beyond our abilities now anyways.

“If we agree to negotiate with the glutton I’m prepared to put up an adequate ransom, if we can strike up a deal with the monster and come to some yearly tribute, said funds can be drawn from profits earned from yearly trade revenues. A certain amount of money would be needed to be allocated for security anyways; here we’d earn the equivalent of the protection of a small armada at, perhaps, a smaller price.”

I didn’t agree, paying a ransom for security set a bad president, and I’d thought that the glutton would be a loadstone around our necks. I could foresee the Glutton being more of a hindrance then a boon. Ridding ourselves of the beast early in Farshore’s development would only help stimulate the economy. The less threats in our waters the better. People would flock to trade with Fareshore eventually. Having to constantly dance around a sea monster wouldn’t be good for anyone. Lavinia already knew how I felt, I’d given my arguments privately, but I was willing to attempt negotiations if only because Lavinia had asked so nicely. It was hard to deny Lavinia anything when she was gently washing and massaging my shoulders.

“Then there is the matter of this pirate outpost . . .” Lavinia continued.

“I’m having a hard time understanding the destructive capabilities of these shadow pearls,” Manthalay said, “I’m not questioning the experiences of the Swords of Sasseine, nor their claims, but I find it hard to believe that if your late brother had such a weapon why didn’t he use it?”

“He never got a chance,” Fredrick said.

“It likely didn’t belong to him,” Kiki suggested.

“Maybe he was planning on using it until he discovered his sister was here?” Kale said.

“More likely Fredrick is right,” I said, “he was keeping the pearl as a trump card, to use if things didn’t go his way, but thankfully we never even gave him the opportunity.”

“But if you possessed such a weapon,” Manthalay mused, “why not use it on the town immediately and collect after the bedlam . . .”

“The savage monsters created from this dark magic are far more deadly then anything you could imagine,” I said thinking back to those horrors, “they would give even those pirates pause. A single pearl could potentially devastate a city like Sasserine. Someone has a goal in mind with these pearls, now that we know there’s more then one of them the thoughts of the pirates buying and selling these things from these ‘Lords of Dread’ . . .”

“We’ll likely need to deal with these fiends,” Kale said, “and perhaps Emraag may some information for us. It is his end of the island.”

“The Lords of Dread,” Manthalay snarled, “self styled nobles of terror, I don’t doubt that they’ll need to be dealt with, but first the glutton. I’d be weary of any treachery . . .”

“Oh don’t worry Lord Manthalay,” I said making eye contact, “I’m always on the look out for treachery.”

. . .

I give Amella a hug.

“Now when you return I want you to dock in harbour,” I said, “try to stay away from where you docked the Wyvern. It’s too much of a bother to get ships from off of those reefs!”

“Excuse me?” Amella said, there wasn’t even a hint of amusement on her face. Obviously it was still too soon to jest about disaster.

“I kid because I care,” I said, “sometimes it’s better to laugh then cry. I wish you nothing but the best of luck on your return trip. I’ll be expecting you in half a year’s time.”

Amella gave my shoulder a squeeze. “You take care of yourself Tristan. Try to stay out of trouble. I’ll be expecting to see you as well.”

I gave her a final hug before she climbed the gang plank to the Brine Harlot, I wish she’d let me change her ship’s name, but she’d be aghast at the suggestion. Changing a ship’s name was simply bad luck. I’d felt slightly embarrassed when I registered the ship back in Sasserine in anticipation of the return expedition, but now that she was refitted she was a fine looking ship, despite the off colour name. Amella didn’t seem bothered by the name in the slightest. She climbed up into her ship and began cursing immediately. Perhaps the ship was a good fit for her.

Better luck on the return trip Amella,
Cthulhu dreams

The moment we’d all been waiting for happened right in the middle of breakfast. Not knowing when I’d get to eat again I snatched up a couple of oranges on my way out. I was thankful later . . . it was going to be a long day.

The bell sounded twice then paused for two seconds. That meant that they were coming from the north. If they were moving to circle us we’d have heard two rings, pause, and then one more toll. Clearly nothing had been spotted by anyone to the south yet. We quickly moved to the Wyvern. Around us people were already moving into action, barricades were going up, weapons and armour were being taken up. I watched as the phanatons easily climbed the ropes to reach the platforms I’d built when I’d first arrived in Farshore. The Oman zombie masters ordered their zombie troglodytes into the water to overturn the landing boats . . . strange to have the same monsters that attacked our town now defending it.

When we arrived at the Sea Wyvern it was already to cast off. James and the crew had been staying with the ship night and day these last few weeks. Amella and her crew had been doing the same, and with all the drills we’d run, the loading of each vessel was going smoothly. We cast off our lines first. We need to be the first out of the harbour in case the Crimson Fleet somehow cleared the distance and we needed to fend them off by ourselves while Amella and the Blue Nixie escaped. Thankfully this wasn’t the case. As we sailed through the harbour mouth the Crimson Fleet where little more then dots on the horizon. I took this lull in the action to eat one of the oranges.

The Blue Nixie sailed out of the harbour and we followed her around the island. When we saw the clear stretch of water between the peninsula and our small island we broke off and turned back. We lay in wait not too far to the south of the Farshore harbour behind the great cliff face. Any ship sailing past the harbour mouth and along the coast would spot us almost immediately but we were hidden from the harbour mouth and, obviously, from any ships within Farshore itself. Now we waited. If the Crimson fleet gave chase we were ready to ambush. If they attacked the harbour we were ready to flank.

I pulled out my second orange and ate it. I’m beginning to think that it’s the waiting I hate the most.

Suddenly the bells were ringing again. The fleet had entered the harbour! James’ crew weighed anchor and we prepared to attack. I half expected to run smack dab into one of the crimson fleet as we rounded the bend, but they were not to be seen. We slowly turned into the harbour mouth and found all five ships there already releasing landing parties. Two of the red sailed ships had jammed themselves into my sand bars. One had dropped anchor just within the mouth of the harbour. Only one had managed to find its way relatively close to shore. Another ship was desperately trying to get closer to the shore for some reason. Already the beach was a bloody mess, bodies of pirates lay scattered about the shore (some bobbed lifelessly in the water), and many more limped along the beach trying to find shelter from the hail of arrows. This was cold comfort though; there were still dozens of boats yet to land, and hundreds of pirates yet to kill. We swooped in behind the first ship we saw.

The enemy ship was a caravel, similar to our own, and currently it had just a skeleton crew. We tried to get as close as we could before attacking but someone on board must have spotted us as they quickly began firing on us. What ensued was a long range shooting match which saw the last of the pirates fall just as we got within boarding range. We quickly jumped on board the pirate vessel, sending the Wyvern along to block and harass the other four ships, while Kale and James quickly cut the anchor ropes, and we moved to ram the next ship in the line.

I watched in horror as a fireball launched from our target and exploded into the town. They had magic! It also explained why they’d been struggling to get closer to the shore. I suppose magic was to be expected, few armies anywhere in the world relied purely on brute strength, and I knew that the Crimson Fleet was seen as the scourge of the Pearl Sea. Without magic such a reputation was simply impossible. I turned invisible and took flight.

To be honest I wasn’t entirely sure what I was about to do but I did know that this navel bombardment needed to be stopped. I used my boots to levitate three stories over the deck of the pirate ship, below me I saw four snake like creatures along with another skeleton pirate crew, and I was relatively sure that the snake creatures were responsible for the spells. I began summoning. I was certain that high above the ship and over the roar of the battle, my light chanting would be undetectable, but at the last possible moment one of the snake monsters cast a fly spell and took to the air! My giant wolf like creature appeared right beside where the monster stood just moments earlier. I ordered my wolf to deal with the freaks below while I summoned support. Suddenly my summons disappeared! My snake like opponent had cast dismissal! Things had suddenly gotten far, far more serious.

My flying opponent was a spell caster, likely a sorcerer, and if it was able of casting dismissal once it was likely capable of casting it perhaps a half dozen times. My summon spells were now suddenly useless. I knew the others would have to deal with this monster for me. I quickly flew down to reunite with them. Buffy had cast the spell that allowed them to run across the water (they could run faster then the ship could sail) and they were just arriving as I flew down. I used a haste spell to speed them up further. The battle to board the vessel would be bloody and fierce. Fredrick had made use of one of his fly potions and moved to attack the flying spell casting snake like creature, too bad it had already cast mirror image on itself, but with Fredrick harassing it I felt it was probably taken care of. I decided to cast dispel magic on the monster in hopes of dropping the mirror images . . . but they stayed up (much to my chagrin). The fly spell was dispelled though and he did float down to the deck of the ship. Fredrick attacked the monster but only managed to slice through mirror images.

The dispel made me visible as the act of targeting caused the refracting light to realign and dissipate. The other serpent creatures took the opportunity to harass me with their bows. I was nicked a few times, received a few cuts, but there were no direct hits. The spell caster wasn’t finished with me yet. Lightning launched from his humanoid hands, instantly arced through the twenty feet that separated us, and tore through my body. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced pain like that. Instantly my entire body felt like it was seizing up, I felt intense heat, I saw bight lights and colours, and the horrible tingling sensation would remain for much of the day. I reactivated my ring to give myself time to gather my wits.

Bellow me I saw Kale, James, and Buffy successfully climb on board the ship, they surged forward cutting into the pirates and snakes (creating a small pocket to allow Kiki, Orlani, and Churtle to climb on board) but they were unable to reach the spell caster. The snake moved away from Fredrick and rays of flame launched from the casters hands and into our finesse fighter. Fredrick was not a very big man, and truth be told, I wouldn’t have thought him much tougher then myself, but somehow he withstood the sorcerer’s spell and surged forward. Again, however, only illusions fell before his blades. The snake must have sensed things were turning against him for he once again took to the air. He now was reduced to three, two images, and one was the real deal. Fredrick flew after the beast . . . gambled, and somehow lost again. Our enemy was reduced to two . . . and one was the true serpent. I decided to use a bit of magic of my own to reduce the chances, but rather then gamble, I lunched a handful of magic bolts at the two. One instantly disappeared, but the other, much to my horror, had the missiles dissipate around him! Spell resistance!

Back in university I hated dealing with spell resistance. It was one of my weakest skills and one of the reasons I decided to go into conjuration, in this school I was seldom targeting anything directly, and if I needed too, many of the spells summoned an actual physical effect that simply bypassed resistance. Thankfully I haven’t encountered many beasts with spell resistance up to this point, a couple of demons here and there, but this monstrosity was the first beast that I can recall that wasn’t a demon that possessed this (thankfully) very rare ability.

The monster knew it was in trouble. It gained a bit of distance from Fredrick and cast mirror image again! I was having none of it! I blasted the beast with a fireball. My explosive magic destroyed the mirror images but I again failed to pierce it’s magic resistance. Fredrick didn’t waste the opportunity, the monster had no more defences, and Fredrick swooped in and began aerating the monster with his rapiers. Bellow the fight on deck was drawing to a close. Buffy took the opportunity of the lull in the fighting to cast dispel magic. Again the spell casting snake descended to the deck. Fredrick stabbed the creature as it fell and Churtle slashed up at it with her spiked chain as it floated into her wheel house. For some reason the monster saw this last attack as it’s biggest threat and launched more rays of flame at Churtle! The flames, which had been powerful enough to stagger Fredrick, knocked Churtle down instantly.

I suddenly realised I was screaming, if that was in rage or horror I couldn’t tell, and I found myself summoning an orb of cold before I could stop myself. The snake would be momentarily surrounded, it had nowhere to run, and the Swords of Sasserine would make short work of the foul aberration. However part of me wanted revenge, I was able to catch myself from twisting the magic before launching it, but a strange and monstrous part of my psyche had the spell on my lips before the analytical side could grab hold . . . the spell blasted into the monster and I flew down to try to save Churtle. Her body had been ravaged by the fire, her breathing was ragged, but with Buffy’s aid I believed she’d live. Behind me I heard the serpent’s death rattle as someone thrust their blade deep into the monster’s eye socket and into it’s brain. Only the part of the pirate crew remained standing. They also fought to the death. I had a wand of charm, which I’d hopped would be of use turning the pirates against one another, but Norebo was not on my side at this point, and the remaining crew needed to be put down the hard way.

The ship was ours. Again James and Kale cut the anchor lines. This ship still had partial sails and James took the wheel and turned it towards the next ship in the line. This time for sure I thought we might ram our opponents but something in the sky caught my eye. There were six shapes flying towards Farshore. Five I recognised almost immediately: Vrocks! It took me a moment to realise in what direction they were headed . . .

“Lavinia!” I cried.

“What?” Kale asked, quickly glancing around, and studying the shore, “where?”

“Look,” I snapped pointing to the sky, “Those are Vrocks, foul demons from the depths of the abyss, and they’re headed past our defences and into the centre of town! That’s where Lavinia is commanding . . .”

“So?” Kale said, “She’s a smart girl. She wouldn’t try to stand up to that, and she and the Jade Ravens have agreed to fall back to the mansion if . . .”
“You don’t understand,” I said, “Vrocks have a horrible ability . . . it’s called the dance of ruin, if three of them get together and dance for a few moments they can summon forth a destructive blast that’s over three times larger and twice as destructive then any fireball I could hurl. If they get that off it’ll break the backs of our defence. It’ll flatten the centre of town for sure!”

“What do we do?” Buffy asked. Alarm was sinking in.

I scanned the beach, there was no way we could fight through that rabble in time, and Fredrick and I were the only ones who could fly . . .

“Kale, Fredrick, James, and Kiki, to me!” I called, “Buffy, get Churtle back on her feet, Orlani, ram this damn ship into that damn ship, and when that’s done, either try to rejoin with the Sea Wyvrn or try to catch up with us in the centre of town. Everyone gather close!”

I didn’t let anyone argue. Moments later the five of us stood near the chapel. Already people were scattering as the dark shapes loomed overhead. I didn’t see Lavinia anywhere so I assumed that she had retreated back to the mansion or had been drawn out elsewhere. I didn’t care where she was at the moment . . . so long as she wasn’t here.

The Vrocks landed. There were five of them, two landed near us, and the other three formed a circle some sixty feet away. I turned invisible and took flight. Behind me my companions clashed with the vrocks, they let out deafening bone chilling cry, but I had no time for malarkey! I had a dance of ruin to stop. I flew over the dancing vrocks and activated my boots and began summoning. I’d made a major tactical error I realised as I formed the words in my head. I wasted too much time with my magical items instead of summoning strait away. Fredrick had flown with me and he was desperately trying to drop one of the demons, but his rapiers weren’t doing much damage to the horrid beasts. Already the vrocks were reaching the crescendo, in moments they’d release a wave of devastation . . . and my summons would arrive seconds too late. For a moment I thought we were facing the end . . . then suddenly Kale lunged into one of the dancing vrocks. He practically flew sword first at the demon. The beast let out a horrible screech and fell forward. The demons had been stopped with not a second to spare.

There was no time for a celebration however; two angry looking demons stood in front of Fredrick and Kale, and one of the guardian vrocks had followed close at Kale’s heels. Suddenly we were facing three vrocks. Had we not just destroyed two in less then thirty seconds I would have been worried, vrocks are horribly fierce demons with strange and unusual powers, but Kale and company seemed to have no problem slicing through them. Still, there where three remaining, and we’d only killed one in combat and the other had been defenceless. My summons finally appeared, a massive one eyed boar, and I ordered it to join the fray. The vrocks tried to stagger their cries to keep us on our heels, they sprayed horrible flesh eating spores that attacked and ate away at our front line, and they attacked with tooth and claw . . . but we beat them back. Soon three demonic corpses lay in the shadow of the chapel. It seemed that two of the beasts had been summoned by the others and their bodies dissipated as they fell. No matter. They were no longer a concern.

I didn’t think that the crimson fleat could offer up anything more deadly then that . . . but the day was far from over. The oman villager Carborundum rushed up to us as the last of the vrocks fell.

“Something happens at beach!” he shouted in common, “the zombie masters say something is coming up from the ocean floor,” he quickly added in his own native tongue.

We charged to the beach (thankfully only a few hundred feet away). The open spaces were now surprisingly devoid of the living. There were bodies everywhere, especially the closer we got to the water, but the actual fighting was happening amongst the alleyways and buildings. As we approached the water I caught sight of Buffy, Churtle, and Orlaini running back to the shore (still under the effects of Buffy’s water walk spell), Orlani had done as I’d asked and the ship they’d been on had been used to ram the other, but neither ship had been sunk. One drifted aimlessly in the harbour, the other had been driven hard into one of my artificial sand bars and now listed hard to the right side, almost completely on its side, and the crew now floundered and swam in the harbour.

A fat misshapen head suddenly popped out of the water, followed by another, and then another. They were lumpy bloated things and as they climbed out of the water I could see the thick stitches on their bodies. Not undead but flesh golems. There were four of them, mindless walking walls of muscle and flesh, and they were practically immune to my magic. My better summons had been used up but I called some dogs to stall and flank and distract but I left Kale and company to deal most of the damage. I did take advantage of some of my more primitive magic, there was a spell called ‘snake swiftness’ that I’d bought and scribed into my spell book a while back, and these golems proved to be the perfect time to test it. Kale proved to be a useful target . . . he hit hard and often, and he was often in the thick of things. Causing him to hit more often only helped our cause. These non living monstrosities hit pretty hard but even they fell under our relentless onslaught.

Buffy began healing us. I insisted the front line go first. I was in pain but it was nothing I couldn’t live with. I scanned the beach and village for signs of battle. I caught sight of the navel battle. The Wyvern was caught in a desperate fight with one of the two remaining pirate ships. The larger flag ship looked as though it was about to join the fight when suddenly small dark shapes dropped from the sky onto the unsuspecting crew. It took a moment to realise that it was the phanatons gliding down from the sniper platforms. The fight on board was quick and brutal . . . the pirates hadn’t seen the phanatons and most of them died having never seen the phanatons. The others were quickly overwhelmed and pulled down to the deck where thankfully my eyes were shielded from the final blows by the railing. I’d often heard that the phanatons were vicious fighters but I guess there was some disconnect from those words and their cute and cuddly appearance. In mere seconds the phanatons had removed a perceived threat . . . already they were giving aide to the Wyvern as the pirates found themselves caught in a cross fire.

“Lavinia is under attack!” Brent said running down from the beach, the side of his face was red with blood, and his arm had thick gash in it and been tied off above the wound to stop the bleeding, “they’ve advanced along the walls and they’re trying to get into the mansion! We need reinforcements!”

I had no time for healing.

“We have to go!” I hollered, I did wait for the others, although it took much of my remaining will power. I didn’t know what else was lurking.

We quickly climbed the hill and discovered that Lavinia wasn’t keeping up her side of the bargain. The front steps of her house were littered with the bodies of dead pirates that had probably thought that the lady and her body guards were pushovers. Although in the planning stages Lavinia had agreed that she and the Jade Ravens would stay in reserve one could hardly fault her for protecting her own home. I was secretly pleased that she’d taken up her sword and decided to deal with the rabble on her doorstep. The thugs looked thoroughly beaten . . . but yet they remained in the fringes . . . waiting for something. I thought that the sight of reinforcements might cause them to turn and flee but they held their ground . . . with fear in their eyes.

“Lavinia!” a strange yet familiar voice called from the group of murderous vagrants, “you think you’ve won but it’s over, you’re out of tricks, and my pirates are in the town killing what remains of your defenders. You can still save your precious little town though . . .” suddenly a form pushed through the brigands, a form which I’d not seen for a long time, and one that had gone through many sinister changes, “come with me and I’ll spare your town. I still love you and I wouldn’t let any of these animals touch you . . . come with me and I can make it just like old times . . .”

“Vanthus?” Lavinia gasped.

It was Vanthus! He’d changed though, he was no longer human, he’d grown wings, horns, a tail, and his eyes glowed with an unnatural red glow. I was stunned, Lavinia was stunned, and everyone else was stunned. We’d not seen the horrible little creep for months and I’d almost put him into the back of my mind . . .

“Hello sister,” Vanthus said with a smile, “it’s me!”

“No, you’re not Vanthus,” Lavinia cried, “My brother was murdered by the same monster, on the same night, that the rest of my family was murdered! What I see before me is the rotting husk of my dead brother . . . you’re nothing . . . an abomination . . . the mockery I see standing before me is nothing more then filth wearing his skin like some monstrous parasite.”

I felt my hands clench into fists.

“So we do this the hard way,” Vanthus growled as he took to the air, “Lavinia Come!” he snapped as his eyes flared.

I recognised the subtle shift in pitch and tone in his voice, the hand’s hypnotic gestures: he was trying to dominate her!

“Never!” she called as she took up her sword again.

“Get her!” Vanthus order his troops.

I was seeing red. Much of the sound of the battle was being washed out by this strange gurgled roar I was hearing in my ears. My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw hurt.

He turned to us, “the real battle is out there,” he said, pointing to the town, “that’s where you’re needed . . .” he was trying to use suggestion on us, James and Kale (the weak willed fools) turned to leave . . . I saw that smug little smile creep onto Vanthus’ face . . .

“VANTHUS!!” I cried as I flew straight at him.

In my current state I would have tried to lay my hands on him. I wasn’t in any shape for fighting and Vanthus wasn’t likely any pushover. He had a magic long sword and sickle and it seemed likely that he knew how to use them . . . fortunately for me magic is almost like second nature to me now. The orb of cold which I was forming was done almost subconsciously. I remember saying the words, twisting it in my mind as it formed, throwing it, but it felt like an out of body experience. I felt almost like I was watching someone else cast the spell. The orb leapt from my hand. Almost instantly my hands curled into claws as I prepared to maul the fiend with my bare hands. Vanthus half turned to see the orb arching towards him . . . the sneer half dropped . . . and then was frozen in place forever.

The orb had struck true. It had seemed to arch perfectly. It had seemed to have flown faster. It hit Vanthus square in the chest, and then, unlike any other time I’d used the orb, it seemed to instantly turn Vanthus a whitish blue. He instantly stopped moving and he fell like a brick out of the sky. He hit the ground like a pane of glass.

The fight was instantly over. The pirates that witnessed that horror dropped their weapons and fled. Terror and despair flowed over the villainous scum like a wave. Soon the pirates fled from all corners of the town . . . but when they got to their boats they discovered that their armada was annexed. Some jumped into their row boats and fled anyways, perhaps trying to reach some distant shore. Some jumped into the water and swam. Some tried to surrender . . . but there was little compassion on the beach that day . . .

I’m told that the Oman zombie masters had created a fresh batch of zombies from the crimson fleet dead and left them with instructions to kill anyone on the beach . . . the townsfolk and decided to keep the remaining pirates at bay . . . shooting at them if they came too close or tried to flee back into the town . . . and the zombies had made quick brutal work of anyone they caught. As far as I know there were no survivors . . .

The fate of that rabble was of no concern to me. I flew down and grabbed Lavinia in my arms. She was looking at the shattered mess that had been her brother. She felt numb.

“You’re safe now,” I mumbled, “he’ll never hurt you again.”

Lavinia just cried. She’d been strong all day . . . now her town was safe . . . now we could cry for the dead.

Now begins the mourning,
Cthulhu dreams

If you're interested in reading how we made out I have a journal posted almost to the end of ToD.

You can download most of it as a single file as well. Click on my profile for a link.

Fragments of the Lidu diaries – calm before the storm (part 2)

Lavinia was able to pull together three work crews for me, and thanks to my earlier work with the troglodytes, we had plenty of lumber and supplies. I was feeling particularly ambitious that morning so I decided to start working on all my projects at once. The palisade would be simple, perhaps a week, and two at worst, but the two new watch towers . . . that was going to be hard work. I’m thinking I might be able to erect them in three weeks . . . if I’m lucky. I can see numerous problems cropping up already and although I put on a brave face secretly I’m worried. Perhaps I’d bit off more then I can chew.

. . .

I’m told that the cathedral of Wee Jas in Caldron is even more magnificent then the cathedral of Sasserine. I can’t believe it. Some travelers claim that the cathedral in Caldron is the finest in all the southern lands. I remain sceptical. One day I hope to visit Caldron and see this great tower with my own eyes, but until then, the Stern Lady’s cathedral in Sasserine shall remain, in my mind, one of the truly great architectural wonders of Sasserine (if not the world). One day I hope to design and build such a monument to the Witch Goddess, but I fear that day might be far off, because right now I’m having enough trouble building simple wooden towers scarcely one quarter the height.

I stepped into the great domed temple and approached the altar. The lesser priests accepted my prayers, gave their blessings, and sold me some incense so I might offer a proper sacrifice to the Stern Lady. I took my offerings to the statue of the lady that near the south eastern arch. This was the one that had talked to me nearly a year ago. Barely twenty hours into my fasting and praying the lady had spoken to me, to this day I can’t remember what she said, but I’ll never forget that feeling of rapture and joy. I could scarcely stop crying to finish my vigil. Naturally father was sceptical. He claiming that my commune was a simple result of lack of food and sleep, but I knew the difference between a vision and a hallucination, and I knew the statue had spoken with me. Still, I thought it wise not to tell anyone else in the family that I’d heard god. They might have gotten the wrong idea.

I bring offerings and pray to this stature whenever I’m in the temple. Not that I feel any great attachment to the statue itself, it was an inanimate object (and not even the most beautiful representation of the goddess in the cathedral), but this was where the goddess had spoken to me and this was where I liked to pray. Unfortunately I had scarcely lit the incense and knelt to pray when the click of boots caught my attention. They were distant at first, sounding almost like they where walking down one of the great corridors or the gallery, but I knew by the echo that the owner of those noisy boots was somewhere under the domed roof. I closed my eyes to drown out the sound but I quickly became aware that the boots were approaching me. I half turned, almost in a mood to berate whatever fool would dare make such a noise in Wee Jas’ house, when I saw the woman glaring down at me and all such thoughts quickly vanished.

“Tristan Lidu,” Lux Seoni said, “What brings you to the cathedral of Wee Jas.”

Technically the witchwardens were now supposed to be a secular organization. After we rid ourselves of the sea princes the escalating religious strife in the city threatened to spill over into war . . . thankfully great uncle Worrin was able to calm the tensions by throwing open our institutions to all beliefs. Originally to be a member of the witchwardens you needed to worship Wee Jas. Now all faiths were welcome. People in the church of Wee Jas weren’t happy, we had the most to loose, but civil war would have destroyed the city . . . and just within years of getting it back. Besides, had there been any true religious fervour in the organization at the time the switch wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. It was likely that the witchwardens were attached to Wee Jas in name only. Lux was different though. She made no secret inside or outside of the organization of her religious beliefs. Although she never went so far as to suggest the old ways should be brought back, she certainly hasn’t gone out of her way to kill such rumours. Lux in many ways represented the old guard.

“I’ve come to pray,” I said offering the statue an apologetic glance, “to offer thanks for her aide and the part she played in my victories, and pray for her continued support in the upcoming battle.”

“Do you say her name in battle?” Lux asked, her eyebrow raised.

“Sometimes,” I muttered, not completely sure if such things were blasphemous, “but she is a god of death and magic . . .”

“Then do you pray for her to take your enemies?”

“No,” I said honestly, “I sometimes just pray that she won’t take me till my job is complete . . . or thank her for giving me the strength to continue . . .”

“Have you ever met Annah?” Lux asked, referring to the high priestess.

“Yes, when I graduated from the academe, as per Lidu tradition, she baptized me, and she usually gives the sermons . . .”

“But have you actually met her, spoken with her for more then a minute?”

“No,” I admitted, “I’m not important enough . . .”

“Right,” Lux said stepping forward and extending her hand, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?” I asked before allowing her to take my hand. I was suddenly and sharply pulled to my feet.

“Don’t ask such foolish questions,” Lux Seoni snapped. She sharply turned and started walking towards the sacred library and offices of the cathedral. My arm hurt where it had been nearly yanked out of the socket, and I was forced to jog to keep up with her brisk pace. I soon I found myself standing in the private offices of Annah Teranaki, high priestess of Wee Jas!

“Lux my child,” the priestess purred as she extended her hand with her great ruby ring for Lux Seoni to kiss, I marvelled as the no nonsense mistress knelt meek as a lamb before the small aged priestess and gently kissed her ring, “what brings you here today, and who is this?”

“My regular business can wait, this is Tristan Lidu, one of the rising stars of the witchwardens,” I blinked in surprise, “I saw her in the temple praying at the feet of the Green Lady and I thought I ought to bring her to see you. She will be fighting against the crimson fleet soon and probably needs your guidance.”

“So this is Tristan,” the priestess said as she extended her hand, I quickly knelt and kissed her ring as well, “I’ve heard a lot about you through your long suffering uncle.”

“My great uncle?” I quickly asked, not meaning to correct her, but I had no living uncles on my father’s side of the family, and it seemed unlikely that anyone else would be talking about me, “Worrin?”

“Ah yes,” she said with a slight laugh and gesturing for us both to be seated, “how time flies. When I first met your great uncle we were both around your age. Now he is a great grandfather and I am high priestess. Tell me child who is your advisor and confessor?”

“Um, I sometimes talk to Tyralandi when she’s in, but I haven’t seen her in a while . . . I guess whoever is working the altar . . .”

“Tut-tut child, I know this is a big church, and it’s very easy to get lost in the shuffle, but you need to develop a relationship with a priest. You’re of noble birth, pure blooded Suel, descendent of one of our people’s great noble houses don’t you know, and now a rising star in the witchwardens. From what I hear you may be too headstrong for your own good. I don’t doubt your faith but you should have a priest . . .”

“The problem there,” the mistress of the witchwardens cut in, “is that she’s all the way over in Farshore.”

“I don’t think we have a cleric in that remote settlement,” the priestess muttered.

“You don’t,” I said, “but we do have two priests of Pelor . . .”

“He’s not even of the same Parthenon,” Annah said, clearly upset, but with her shrill voice it sounded like she was whining.

“The temple does have shrines to other gods,” I explained, “and the temple’s resident cleric is very open to other faiths, but I do miss having a cleric of the goddess at hand. I wanted to take a cleric of Wee Jas with us on the voyage . . . but sadly we couldn’t find room . . .”
“How are you returning to Farshore?” Annah asked.

“Tristan here has already figured out teleportation,” Lux said, I could swear that I caught a hint of pride in her voice when she said it as well, “a remarkable feat for someone so young.”

“I’ll be teleporting back tomorrow morning,” I said, “but I’m here by myself today, and I am capable of taking up to four people with me . . .”

I waited hopefully for either of the two women to make the obvious jump, but both simply stared at me, seemingly waiting for me to make the request.

“And Farshore is sadly distend to be the site of much death and destruction,” I added. They both regarded me coolly. “High Magus,” I said rising and stepping around her desk to knell at her feet, “Farshore is in need of a priest of Wee Jas. I am in need of a priest. A missionary might even be able to spread the goddess’s law to these strange and chaotic known as the omen. This is a town built by the people of Sasserine and Sasserine herself was a priestess of Wee Jas, I can’t imagine that she’d want her people to be without guidance . . .”

“You have pled your cause well young Lidu,” Annah said, gently placing her hand on my head, “I shall grant you your wish.”

The priestess pulled on a cord that snaked into the wall. Somewhere far off I thought I heard a bell ringing. Moments later, as I retook my seat, a young acolyte stuck her head into the room.

“Fetch me Smarnil,” the priestess ordered, and the young lady quickly vanished, “I have a priest in mind for this brave venture. He’s not a pure blooded Suel like yourself but he is very well versed in scripture, history, and holy law. I think he will make a fine addition to your small community, he is quite and unassuming, and outside of the church he is hardly a controversial figure . . .”

“Wait, what?” I asked as Annah began trailing off, “controversial?”

Just then there was a knock at the door. A smallish dark haired priest stepped into the room. He was small in stature, scarcely taller then me, and as he stepped into the high priestess’ offices he stooped slightly, making him appear even shorter. He looked like he came from Oeridian stock, what with his olive skin and dark brown hair, but his eyes were a shocking pale blue . . . much like my own. He quickly looked us over, showing signs of recognition as he looked to Lux, but no such recognition when it came to me.

“You summoned me High Magus,” he asked quitely. He had a strange accent, like the common tongue wasn’t his first language.

“Yes Smarnil,” Annah said, “I’m going to give you a very unique and special privilege, overlooking your past . . . shall we say discrepancies? Yes, overlooking that, and assuming that these were simply mistakes of youth, I’m going to give you the chance to build your own parish. It is a freedom that I doubt you could ever enjoy back around Greyhawk. It seems the goddess’s church has seen fit to put her faith in you again . . . don’t let us down.”

“Thank you High Magus,” Smarnil said with a slight bow, “where is this parish to be located?”

“Have you heard of Farshore?” Annah asked her subordinate.

“No,” he said scratching his head.

“What about the Isle of Dread?” Annah said as she pulled out a large ledger and quickly began turning through it.

A worried look crossed Smarnil’s face, “no, I don’t think so . . . but I’m not sure I like the sounds . . .”

“Gather your things, say your goodbyes, and prepare yourself for a journey. You leave with Tristan Lidu at morning’s first light.” Annah said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “When you are packed and ready return to my offices I have instructions for you.”

The man bowed and reluctantly left to pack his belongings. I waited for him to leave before turning back to Annah.

“What discrepancies? What did he do?” I asked. I was slightly worried.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Annah said, “It is a church matter, but you can rest assured that I see nothing lacking in his faith or his character.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring. Two years ago there had been a scandal involving one of Annah’s disciples in Caldron. I wasn’t exactly sure of the details, the church had done it’s best to censor that information, but I did know it didn’t reflect well on Annah . . . there were whispers within her own church after all. Naturally I didn’t dare share these thoughts; I glanced at the two women, suddenly fearful that I’d allowed my concerns to show somehow . . .

“Have him meet Tristan in front of her family home.” Lux said to Annah, “it’s a fine landmark, and it will save Tristan from coming here and possibly interrupting morning prayers.”

“Quite right,” Annah said, quickly jotting down a note in a massive looking ledger, “I’m sure you have important work to do young Lidu, thank you for coming to see me, but I shalln’t keep you any longer.”

I quickly made my escape. I knew a dismissal when I heard one and I didn’t trust my mumblings . . . I didn’t think out loud as much as used to, I’m told that I often mumbled to myself, but these days I’ve been quite . . . except when under extreme duress. Being in a room with Lux and Annah should have been enough alone to send me over the edge . . . thinking about this Smarnil . . .

. . .

When I entered Blenak’s Bazaar the old man was nowhere to be seen. The young lad stood as I entered, quickly putting away the textbook he’d been studying, and nodded in recognition.

“Miss Lidu,” he said, “I’ll go see if the master is finished with his business . . .”

“No, let him finish with his nap,” the lad’s checks flushed, telling me my guess was right, “I need to haggle with him and it’s better if he’s not cranky . I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, you know I’m Tristan Lidu, but what’s your name.”

“Eric smith ma’am,” it felt strange hearing someone call me ma’am.

“Elric?” I asked, thinking perhaps I’d misheard him.

“No Eric,” he said, “I’m told it’s quite common in some places.”

I nodded, it was possible after all, it was a big world . . . but I suspected that he was meant to named Elric and his parents forgot the ‘L’.

“What are you studying El- , sorry Eric, what are you reading?”

“Metaphysics,” he said with a sigh.

“Oh I remember that!” I said with a smile, “I studied that in my final year. What are you looking to do? Transmutation? Conjuration? Invocation? All wonderful fields, as is a generalist, there’s nothing wrong with a little versatility. Abjuration and divination are also respectable fields.”

“I was thinking of illusion . . .” I couldn’t help but frown, “especially after reading this stuff, illusion seems so much easier . . .”
“How close are you to graduating?” I asked.

“Maybe another year,” he sighed, “I haven’t even started my thesis.”

“That’s a long time you know,” I said, trying to put things in perspective for him, “I was in your shoes about a year ago, now I’m exploring a strange new land and fighting demons and monsters . . .”

“Tristan,” Blenak said stepping out from the back room rubbing his eyes, “what a pleasant surprise, are you back from the isle of Dread for good now? That’s no place for a young lady . . .”

“The colony could be attacked any day now . . .”

“All the more reason for you to return home to your studies,” Blenak said, “leave the fighting to the warriors . . .”

“Anyways,” I said trying to change the subject, “I’m wondering if you’d be interested in making a deal, I need some better equipment.”

“Like what?” Blenak asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Well this rod of metamagic for example,” I said, “it’s served me well but I think I’ve finally outgrown it, most of my spells are too powerful for it to be enhanced with my current equipment . . .”

“So you’re looking for an upgrade,” Blenak said walking over to the display case which held the rods of metamagic, “another rod that can extend the duration of your spells I assume.”

“Yes, extrodanry useful,” I said, wondering how to approach this subject delicately, “I’d love to make you an offer on this rod of metamagic . . .”
“An offer?” Blenak snapped, “the price is clearly listed.”

“I have most of the cash to pay,” I said, “namely eight thousand in gold . . .”

“The price is eleven . . .” Blenak practically growled.

“And I do have this perfectly good rod which I bought from this store a few months back valued at three thousand.”

“But I only buy at half value . . .”

“In the past three years how many metamagic rods have you sold?” I snapped.

“That’s besides the point,” Blenak said growing red in the face, “if I start making deals with my customers next thing you know everyone wants to haggle . . . and I hate haggling!”

“But you wouldn’t be loosing money; you’d have eight thousand cash and a rod worth three.”

“Why not, got anything you’d trade? Magic beans maybe?”

“But this rod is more valuable as stock then the other rod. More people will be looking for this rod then the others because so few casters are powerful enough to use the others.”

“Then you sell it and bring me the money . . .”

“It might be worth more as a collector’s item,” I said in desperation, “you could sell it as once owned by Tristan Lidu or something . . .”

“You’d need to be famous for that to work Tristan . . .”

“Fine,” I snapped turning to leave, “I’ll make due with what I have. Good day to you . . .”

“Wait a minute,” Blenak said as I started walking out, “I said wait!” he snapped when I didn’t stop, “Tristan you walk out that door . . . so help me . . . you walk out don’t bother coming back!”

I stopped halfway out the door and looked to him. I was mad. I’d known and worked with him for over three years, I always steered customers his way, and if the deal I’d proposed was perfectly fair . . . it’s not like metamagic rods decrease in value or anything. He’d been mad as well and when he was mad he got more stubborn. I’d never heard him threatening banishment before.

Blenak turned sharply to Eric, “You go fill some orders! Take your damn textbook with you. You finish early you can do some reading!” Blenak waited till his assistant was gone before he turned back to me, “I don’t do deals Tristan,” I opened my mouth to say something when he cut me off, “But,” he snapped, “I have absolutely no love for the Crimson Fleet. They make getting stock very difficult. Also, as angry as you seem to be able to make me, I have no desire to see you stand against these monsters ill equipped. You promise me that you’re not going to do anything stupid and I’ll, as a one time thing mind, and I’ll take one and a half thousand off the price . . .”

“I don’t suppose you’d consider taking three thousand off would you?” I watched with bemusement as the outrage twisted on Blenak’s face and his mouth opened and closed wordlessly, “I guess not? I’ll take your offer then: my old rod plus eight thousand.”

. . .

The palisade is complete. This was easy compared to my work on the harbour and my ongoing work on the watch towers. The walls are now capable of withstanding a sizable ground assault . . . this will be of little use against the pirates (unless they try a two pronged attack over land and water) but I think it has been a good morale boosting exercise. Churtle has taken command of the now superfluous work crew. She’s using the extra hands to help trap the beach and part of the docks.

. . .

The omans from the seven villages started arriving just before noon, there were slightly less then two dozen of them in total, but this increases our militia by sixty percent. They also brought with them additional priests and wizards. Unfortunately this meant necromancers . . . and I hate necromancers. I thought it best to keep my distance from these particular emissaries and heralds of oman culture in case I inadvertently say something unbecoming.

Oman necromancers, in case you’ve never seen them before, are quite terrifying to behold. Most paint their skin white, skull motifs on their faces for example, and strange tribal tattoos or piercing are almost a given. They wear fetishes made from body parts. Teeth, toes, fingers, shrivelled up organs, and other unidentifiable bits of once living flesh are used in some form or function to decorate or adorn their bodies. Yet these are respected members of their tribes . . . and no doubt we will need their skills if we are to survive . . .

I was surprised to see the villager called Carborundum amongst their number. I would have thought he would have had his fill of us back at the Shrine of Zotzilaha, but he actually was on the first wave of boats, and it was he who strode forward from the group to meet us.

“Greetings Tristan Lidu,” Carborundum, “Grandmother sends her regards.”

“Who’s your grandmother,” I asked before I could stop myself.

“The Chief,” Carborundum said in surprise, “I’m surprised that she didn’t mention you to me. She is always trying to marry us grandkids off. Anyways none of the seven villages would release their war chiefs, nor did all send people, but all sent what they could in aid. We bring twenty two in all . . . but two of our number are zombie-masters, and we have three totem priests! We also bring supplies, arrows, oil, rope, poisons, and some weapons, but also medical supplies for after the great battle.”

“You’ve more then met our expectations Carborundum,” I said, “and you can tell your grandmother that this act of friendship will not be forgotten. But come,” I said, “you must meet the mayor and leader of these people.”

“You are not the leader?” Carborundum asked, expressing what could have been slight surprise.

“Believe it or not,” I said looking to the others, “but speaking is not my strong suit.”

“Nooo,” Carborundum said with mock surprise, “not because Tristan Lidu doesn’t try. Grandmother spoke of you often after you left. Both of her visits left a very strong impression upon our people.”

. . .

It was good to have a priest of Wee Jas in town. I’ve never been particularly religious but I always tried to attend at least one sermon every other Godsday. Fareshore is a small town though, and I see Smarnil almost every day, and so it’s practically impossible for me to miss a sermon. He seems to be fitting into life on the island quite well. He was a little shocked upon hearing about the impending attack by the crimson fleet, although I got the feeling he was slightly suspicious of Annah’s reasons for sending him to island, but I think he’s gotten over the shock and has come to accept the situation quite well.

He hardly even mentions it on a daily basis anymore.

. . .

I must admit that the phanatons are nothing if not brave! Sixteen of them floated into the harbour today on a makeshift raft. The ship was mainly built out of bamboo, tied together with vines, and was sea worthy only in that it floated on water. They seemed to be in extrodanry high spirits . . . like this was all one great adventure. They weren’t stupid or needlessly careless however. They later explained that they’d been waiting for a calm day before sailing across the stretch of water that separated Temute from the Isle of Dread.

Leader of the group was the phanaton that I’d come to know as Robin. He quickly apologized for not bringing a larger force but, as he put it:

“The boat could only hold so many.”

. . .

“This simply won’t do,” I said, “We need a group name. Calling ourselves ‘our group’ is just going to be confusing in both the planning and the command stages of this operation. Saying ‘the Jade Ravens’ is much less confusing then saying ‘those guys’ and easier then ‘Liamae, Tolin, Zan, and Kaskus’. Let’s figure something out . . .”

“I suppose you’ll want something like ‘Tristan’s Troopers’ or something?” James said.

“Well it is . . .” I started to say.

“The Wyvern’s Watch,” Orlani cut in.

“But we’re not always going to on board . . .”

“The black Watch,” Fredrick suggested.

“The Krakens,” Kiki happily added.

“Give me a moment,” I said, pulling out my journal, “let me write some of these down.”

I jotted down their suggestions as well as some of my own, there were quite a few suggestions, and it wasn’t likely that all of us were going to agree on just one name. So I devised a voting process to eliminate some of the weaker choices. In the end we were limited to just seven choices, I had everyone select just five (giving them a value based on what order they selected them), and in the end, when all the votes were tallied, it was one of my suggestions that had won! The Swords of Sassierine!

“That abbreviates to S.O.S,” James whined.

“Then why did you vote for it?” I asked, it wasn’t his first choice, but he had selected it. James mumbled something unintelligible but made no more complaints. Tecnically it was T.S.O.S. and if anyone should have complained it should have been me! I don’t even own a sword! No matter, I was pleased with the name I suppose, and it was my suggestion after all. It looks like the Swords of Sasserine are here for good. We decided to have a drink to celebrate out new name

. . .

It was late but something else was bothering me about the plans.

“What do we do about the non-combatants?” I asked, “I really don’t want any collateral damage.”

“We could hide them in the hills somewhere,” Kale said, “I hear there’s some caves somewhere up there in the hills . . .”

“I don’t think anyone wants the civilians to get hurt,” James was saying.

“But to be honest we’re going to have enough to look after on our own,” Fredrick quickly added.

“Besides if our defences fall,” James added, “it really doesn’t matter where they are on the island, these crimson fleet bastards will hunt them down and torture then to find out where more treasure is. They’re monsters, pure and simple, and that’s why we can’t fail in the defence.”

There was silence for a while.

“We could put them on the Blue Nixie,” Lavinia said, “Amella could sail them around the peninsula . . .”

“But then the pirates might just give chase,” Kale said, “and all our defences are here . . .”

Again, there was a moment of silence.

“Maybe . . .” James said scratching his chin, “Maybe we shouldn’t abandon our Sea Wyvern idea. We could escort the Nixie part way round the island, and then pin them in and attack the fleet from behind.”

“That sounds risky,” Kale said.

“Well they’ll likely use siege weapons from their ships anyways,” James said, “if we can’t do something about that, whatever defences Tristan puts up they’ll likely just knock down. If we time it right we might just come across their ships just after they’re releasing landing boats. Their ships will only have skeleton crews and if take out their fleet, take out their escape route; it might take the heart out of them. Who knows, we might even be luckily enough to be able to use some of their weapons against them. “

“But that would mean that the town would be forced to fend for itself for a time,” Kale said.

“It would take them time to lower boats,” James pointed out.

“And it would create two fronts to attack from,” Fredrick said, “and most of Churtle’s defences are designed to slow rather then halt . . .”

“It’s too great of a gamble,” Kale said.

“Everything at this point is a gamble,” I said, “I don’t like it either, but I like the prospect of people being sent to hide in the woods less. So what’s your counter proposal?”

“Fine, we’ll do it your way . . .” Kale said.

“Not my way,” I said, “It’s James’ plan, I’m just agreeing with it. I want all the non-combatants out of town. This is just the best plan we got for that. OK, starting tomorrow we’ll need to figure out who’s going and who’s staying, then we’d better start practicing and drilling everyone so that we can get people out of town before the fleet can block us in.”

. . .

The towers are finished. The town is fortified. Churtle’s has finished trapping the beach. The troops have been briefed and know the plans backwards and forwards. We are willing, ready, and able.

Let the pirates come, we’re ready,
Cthulhu dreams

Fragments of the Lidu diaries – calm before the storm (part 1)

. . .
Day three: still nothing.

I must apologize for my lack of updates. It wasn’t too much activity that stayed my hand! Rather too little. It’s difficult to write when there’s so little to report.

The repairs to the ship are completed and not as much as a peep from the monsters on the island (much to Kiki’s chagrin). Seems I won’t be buying her dinks after all. Although Kale and the others did little over those three days (except scan the horizon) I did my best to keep busy. Although I’d have preferred to have spent that time back in Sasserine researching, I’ve started transcribing my diaries into common, and although my entries loose something in translation – I think they remain rather enjoyable. Perhaps I’ll look into getting my work published when I return to Sasserine. Someone must be interested in reading about our travels . . . especially to the dangerous and exotic Isle of Dread.

I should mention that I’ve decided not to record anything else learned through my sessions with Chimpman. Sort of a moot point really, my hands are often too shaky (as of late) after his revelations to record anything anyways, but I fear putting paper to anything that might fall into the wrong hands. The vile head seems to spout not but forbidden knowledge as of late. Last night he effectively reviewed everything I’d learned over the past five years from the Necronomicon. I can’t let that information fall into the wrong hands. I’m not going to completely remove him from my journals though, he’s let slip on more than one occasion that he’s not from my time stream, and so I’ll continue to record his comments and off topic conversations on the off chance that he might inadvertently reveals something important. Besides, if I can catch him in a lie then I might be able to discount some of his earlier claims . . . something about him puts me ill at ease. Naturally I’ll leave all traces of him out of my translated diaries.

Tomorrow we’ll finish draining the hold and hopefully pulling the Wyvern off the reef. It’s going to be touch and go I suspect, but the two captains, Amella and James, in the very least, have confidence. We’ve harvested a couple of trees from the jungle to act as runners, and with the high tide, and hopefully some strong wind, we should be able to slide the Wyvern off of the reef without further damaging the hull. Amella and James have both explained to me how it’ll work and why there should be no problems, but in my mind I see a wayward outcropping of reef re-tearing our hull like paper. I have a bad feeling about this operation. Time will tell I guess.

. . .
Suddenly our sails filled, as if by divine providence, or as if the Wyvern had sprouted wings, and with a great lurch we few off the reef and into the open waters again. My heart skipped a beat. Suddenly the Wyvern was once again dancing on the waves! James fought to control his ship, which suddenly had new life, and seemed wanting to make up for lost time. The tow rope had gone slack and we were rapidly gaining on the Blue Nixie. I found myself laughing. Rather I noticed the crew around me staring at me with those nervous smiles I’d slowly grown accustomed too . . . and then I realized that my mouth was open and I was laughing. I threw my head back and allowed myself to release all the nervous pent up energy I’d gathered over the last few days.

“Yes!” I screamed, “Osprem shows her mercy and carries us across her body!”

“Guess you were wrong,” Kiki said beside me, “we’re not going to have any bad luck after all.”

“Wait for it . . .” I mumbled, allowing the maniacal smile to slip a bit.

“We’s off the rocks boss,” Churtle chirped optimistically beside me, “what coulds happen?”

“Wait for it . . .” I mumbled, I knew something was going to happen, our luck had never been this true before, and Norebo wasn’t about to let the streak to continue. He would want to keep us honest and humble. Besides, it was impossible to mention good luck without suddenly facing the bad. Suddenly the water erupted and showered down upon us as two great thorny heads glared down upon us. Mashers. Two of them. One of these beasts had given us a great deal of trouble nearly a month ago . . . and now there were two of them.

“There it is,” I said with some relief as I allowed the smile to slide back on, “right on time. Now it seems that Wee Jas has once again given us a task . . . let’s not disappoint her.”

The great eels lashed out: Kale’s armor and sword stopped one bite while Fredrick’s speed was able to negate another attack. I allowed myself to rise off the deck of the ship as I conjured up a fireball to end all fireballs. I pushed it with my secrets of metamagic, making it larger and far more powerful, and then I lobbed it into the water right between them. The water boiled and the heat instantly singed the side of the ship. The great mashers seemed to wither and die like purple nightblossoms under the desert sun.

Odd that I should think that though . . . I’ve never even seen a desert . . .

Around me a cheer went up. I’d defeated the mashers with one spell! This spoke volumes of our increasing strength and experience . . . and would hopefully help build the people of Farshore’s confidence in us, as, up until this point, the vast majority of our exploits were private victories. We would need the people’s confidence if we were to stand a chance against the Crimson Fleet. We needed people to stand with us if we were going to stand up to the scourge of the sea. Our celebrations were premature though: two more of the horrible suction faced eels splashed out of the water beside the Blue Nixie!

I lobbed another fireball, but my mind was taxed from my earlier attack, and this blast was far weaker then my first. It took the combined efforts of our team to drop the remaining two monsters. I used the time to summon a giant shark like beast to guard our wake to ensure no more of those horrible mashers fatally decided to try snacking on our ship and crew. I was surprised to find that Churtle had taken the time to fish one of the flash fried carcasses out of the brine.

“What are you up to Churtle?” I asked as she talked some of the crew into hauling the massive corpse onto the deck.

“The gnome Urol says thats these fish is very tasty,” Churtle said with a toothy grin.

“Sense when do you listen to Urol?” I asked.

“Sense he says thats these mashers are also poisonus,” she said as I tried hard not to groan, “and that’s be two of my specialties. You want some masher for supper boss?”

“Maybe,” I said fingering the glasses that Blenak had crafted for me, “but can you tell if the fish you make is safe?”

“Oh yes, I most probably can,” Churtle said with pride, “I was best Kobold cook in my village for a good reason you know. I didn’t poison almost anyone in my two years making me the greatest chef in our village history.”

“Well that sounds . . .”

“Unfortunately village historian be poisoned three years prior,” Churtle mumbled as she turned to look over the great eel.

“I’m sorry what did you say?” I asked.

“Nothing boss,” Churtle said looking up at me with those innocent eyes, “just remembering how I gots promoted.”

. . .

I was quite surprised with the results. Despite having to dispose of three quarters of the meat because of contamination, and despite the awful look and oily texture of the meat, once in my mouth I was shocked at the flavor. It was extraordinarily rich. Almost like a smoked meat. It was very chewy and hard to cut, which is usually not good in a meat, but the rich smoky flavor was enough for me to overlook those flaws. I was almost sad that we hadn’t been attacked by more . . . as is we scarcely had enough for a single meal despite the size of the eel. A surprisingly large portion of the beast was devoted to poison production.

. . .

That smell shall haunt me till the day I die.

We were first alerted to the attack by the sounds on deck. The crew had shouted as the horrible demon suddenly appeared on the main deck, but as I quickly pulled on a clean shift, another sense was made horribly, painfully aware of the demon.

I’m told that sulfur smells like rotten eggs. I’ve never had the displeasure of suffering the stench of rotting food but I have had to deal with the smell of sulfur and ammonia. In the past I’d used words like ‘awful’ or ‘disgusting’ to describe those smells Henceforth I shall use the word ‘unpleasant’ to describe those odors for the smell that wafted in from under the door made them seem tame by comparison. In mere moments I’d find myself wishing I was back in my lab just bathing in the scent.

Buffy grabbed her mace, Churtle her spiked chain, Kiki her crossbow, and I picked up my spell pouch as we moved to defend our ship. Then we made the greatest tactical error in the history of the forth sense (also known as smell): we opened the door. It felt like I’d been hit. I’ve heard that expression before but until that moment I’d never truly known what it meant. My sinuses actually felt pain. Almost like fire. My nose felt like it was starting to run, my eyes started tearing up, the back of my throat and mouth were starting to sweat . . . I started gagging . . . I felt like I was going to start vomiting at any moment . . .

With the door closed we thought we were experiencing the worst of it but the moment the door was opened the stench came flooding in like a torrent bursting through a collapsed dam. The reek was magnified by an incalculable multiple. Buffy and Churtle would later tell me that it was far worse actually around the fiend. I was thankful that I didn’t have to experience that. I somehow forced the unbelievable stench from my mind and began summoning. Outside I could hear my companions retching and vomiting, Buffy had scarcely made it through the door of our cabin before she did the same, and to make matters worse, my summons scarcely materialized before they too were retching and vomiting.

Churtle stumbled past Buffy but she was soon gripping the railing as nausea overwhelmed even her kobold senses. I could hear my companions stumbling around (the deck of the ship was now slick with sick), we were all desperately searching for clean uncontaminated air.

“So these are the humans?” A loud booming voice called out in abyssal, “hardly worth mentioning. I think I’ll just kill all of you now . . . come out spell caster; I want to rip you to shreds with the others. Hiding will only prolong the inevitable.”

I felt a tinge of fear, not for myself, but for my companions. With the nausea we were unable to mount any sort of offense. To make matters worse, this filthy abyssal stain seemed to know something about us. I knew there was something on the island still, something vile, the tales of these skin walkers, and the dread that the natives feel towards the central plateau told me that demons were still likely linked to the island. Possibly also linked to Demigorgon (that temple didn’t spring up overnight) but I’d hoped that destroying the golem might have somehow weakened his influence on the island. Something was still watching us. I used my ring. For the time being I was trapped in the cabin, the main deck was inaccessible because of the stench, and with my fly spell expired for the day I didn’t dare d-door topside in case this beast could see invisible.

At the time I was confident that this thing was a Hezrou (closer examination later would confirm my theory). Extraordinary sensory abilities (like seeing the invisible) weren’t part of the demon’s known powers, but why take a chance? Not that it mattered much, almost everything I could do I could do from within the cabin. For the time being I knew I could give my companions the one tool that they desperately needed: Time! I commanded my summons to surround the beast, afflicted with nausea as they were, they weren’t able to mount any sort of offense, but the demon would need to go through my fiends before he could attack the crew.

Kiki fired information on positions back at me, crossbow bolts at the demon, all from inside the doorway (which seemed to sit at the edge of the stench). With Kiki acting as my eyes I commanded my beasts from inside the cabin. Thankfully the filthy thing decided to attack my summons. They were defenseless, and right in front of him, a poor tactical decision but a much needed reprieve for us. Thankfully my companions were soon able to join in the fight. Kale, James, and Fredrick were finally able fight past the nausea (through pure force of will I’m sure) and begin assaulting the monster. The tides had turned, the demon was tough, with many natural resistances, but the three men brought their five swords to bear, and the demon fell with a thunderous crash not long after . . .

They dumped the corpse into the sea, and we immediately began the process of cleaning the ship . . .

. . .

I had hoped to speak with Lavinia when I returned but she was locked in a meeting with her campaign staff. With less than five days before the election it wasn’t surprising to have lots of last minute strategizing. I had Lavinia’s servants poor me a bath. It had been two days and I still couldn’t get the stench out of my hair. I had the wash basin filled with cool water for Hop-Toy. Somewhere in the house below I could hear people murmuring and shuffling about.

I must have dosed off because I was woken by a slight nock at the bathroom door.

“Tristan?” Lavinia asked, “Are you busy? I was wondering if I might have a word . . .”

“I’m not busy,” I said sitting up, answering a bit too soon, “Come in . . .”

“. . . When you’re finished,” Lavinia had continued saying as I talked over her, “what’s that?” she said with some confusion, “No, I can wait, I don’t want to impose, it’s not really that important, I just came up to tell you that I wanted to speak with you . . .” Her voice sounded nervous.

“Come in,” I said, “it’s your house; you can’t really be imposing now can you?”

Lavinia opened the door and edged into the room. She kept her back to me and talked over her shoulder. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and find out how you made out . . .” she said, her eyes stole a glance over her shoulder, she caught my eye and instantly blushed and turned back to face wall.

“I also want to hear how you made out,” I laughed, “come over and talk with me,” I gestured to one of the dressing chairs but her eyes remained on the wall.

“Also,” she said with a slight sigh, “I wanted to talk about how we left things, you know before you left . . .”

“How we left things?” I said trying to remember.

“I didn’t mean to be so forceful with you . . .” she apologized, “and . . .”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh that!” I said between giggles, “I believe you were threatening to spank me or something . . .”

“Are you mocking me?!” She snapped, turning to face me with a hint of fire in her eyes.

“No ma’am!” I said, trying to sound earnest and properly chastised, but I fear the smile might have given me away, “but you know I was serious about not being someone to be trifled with, and I wouldn’t tolerated anyone else so much as laying their hands on me uninvited like that, never mind spanking me!”

It took a moment for the words to run around in my head before I realized exactly what I’d just said. What I’d just given implied permission for. My smile quickly vanished.

“Wait,” I said, “that didn’t come out right.” Lavinia raised an eyebrow, “What I meant was: you’re my friend and I didn’t really mind . . .” I held up my hands as if to say stop, the words weren’t coming out right, “that is to say . . . I understood that you were concerned, and I know I sort of needlessly put you through a lot of worry . . . and with the elections looming I guess your reaction shouldn’t have been completely unexpected . . . or completely undeserved on my part . . . and I guess that I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Why? What are you saying?” Lavinia said with a slightly confused look.

“I’m saying that . . . hmmm, I guess I’m apologizing for making you worry. When you told me about the troglodytes I just couldn’t stand those horrid beasts hindering our efforts and attacking your villagers . . .”

“And so you didn’t think?” Lavinia asked.

“Oh no,” I said, “I plotted the entire thing out. I knew what they were capable of, and what I was capable of, and I knew I could deal with the situation all on my own. I didn’t want the others getting in the way or stealing my glory.”

“You’re glory?” she said, sounding even more confused.

“For what that’s worth,” I said, referring to the aforementioned glory, “although now that I think about it, it probably wasn’t such a great feat for a wizard of my caliber. Hardly worth mentioning. I felt a bit like a school girl when I told you about it.”

“You told me,” Lavinia said, slowly processing the information, “nobody else, I had to explain that you’d taken care of the problem to the woodsmen . . .” her eyes suddenly flashed with some sort of realization, “did you slaughter those troglodytes, those sentient beings, just for me?”

“You make it sound sort of cruel,” I said, trying to lighten her mood, but her eyes flashed a hint of anger. Lavinia half turned to leave, and I suddenly stood, ready to give chase if necessary, I couldn’t afford to allow her to get the wrong idea!

“No!” I snapped, “I went to deal with them for you. They attacked me first. That’s why I have these scars.” I said pointing to the triangle shaped scar above my hip, “If I went to slaughter them I’d have returned to you without a scratch. They would have never seen their attacker. But they attacked me and I ended them. I’m not even remotely sorry for destroying them, such vile and nasty creatures, they forced my hands.”

We stood in silence for a while. Both of us were proud, strong, and idealistic women. It wouldn’t do for one of us to appear weak or flawed in front of the other. I wanted Lavinia to respect me . . . and it was slowly dawning on me that Lavinia wanted the same in return from me. If I was to serve her, it would be on her terms, and she wouldn’t tolerate me compromising her values just for the sake of expediency. Fareshore would be lucky to have her as her mayor. She was a woman I would gladly follow through all the infinite planes of the abyss, through the depths of hell . . .

It wasn’t until Lavinia’s eyes slowly drifted downwards that I remembered that I was completely bare to her eyes. It took every ounce of my being not to blush or cover up. I allowed her eyes to flow over my body. I was suddenly very self conscious, Lavinia was one of the most beautiful women that I’d ever met, and there I was with my pale scrawny scared hide out in the open for her perusal. With fabric you could conceal or enhance, but skin was far too brutally honest. I was small wonder that many people made love in the dark.

“Well I think it’s my turn to apologize,” Lavinia said after taking a long look, she slowly stalked up to me, I found myself looking down at her because of the added height of the tub, “I should never have doubted your heart and I’m sorry your body bares the marks of being in my service.”

“I consider them badges of honor,” I said, subconsciously covering them with my hands, “although they’re not pretty to look at . . .”

“No,” Lavinia gasped, “they’re beautiful, you’re beautiful. I . . . a lover should be consider h . . . themselves lucky to spend hours lovingly tracing each one into . . . their minds. I’m just sorry because most men want a pure porcelain virgin princess for their bride. A scar might turn them off. I wouldn’t want to ruin your chances of finding a husband because . . .”

“Oh no worries about that!” I laughed, “I’ve pretty much given up on the whole traditional marriage thing! Besides, why should I conform to someone else’s ideal? I want someone to accept me for who I am. Scars and all. I’m not perfect, far from it, but I need someone who will see past my scars, past my imperfections, and past my idiosyncrasies. I’m intelligent, perhaps too intelligent for my own good, and because of that I don’t always make the best choices. Amella said I needed a good anchor, but I think, to use her ship analogy, I might need a good rudder or keel . . .”

“I think you’re going to catch a cold if you keep standing there,” Lavinia said with a smile, “either back in the bath or let’s get you dried off. I can’t have the beautiful and powerful Tristan Lidu catching cold while she stays under my roof!”

“Right you are Lavinia Vanderboren,” I said with a laugh, I quickly turned back to the bath and found the sponge, “you can wash my back while you tell me about the election!”

. . .

“What do you mean you told him about the lost tribe?!” I gasped in horror.

“Well you wanted me to find out what Jeran wanted,” James snapped, “and we were likely going to be too busy to look into it ourselves . . .”

“So you told Tolin?!” I asked, still dumbfounded.

“Well I found him and Kale shortly afterwards and I guess he sort of overheard it,” James stammered, “I don’t see what the big deal is . . .”

“You do realize what he’s going to do now don’t you?”

“Probably go look for the ruins I imagine . . .”

“Ok, I want you to listen very carefully, ‘ape statue’, ‘fog’, ‘villagers gone’, what does that sound like to you? I just bet some servant of Demigorgon is grinding their bones for bread as we speak!”

“Look Tristan,” James said, trying to calm me down, “they’re adventures like us . . .”

“No!” I snapped, “Not like us! They were taken out by Bullywugs.”

“I’m sure they’ve improved sense then,” James said, “Tolin said . . .”

“Tolin is an idiot!” I growled, “I wouldn’t put him in charge of leading lemmings off a cliff.”

“They’re professionals Tristan, I have faith in them. Plus they need confidence; they can’t be in our shadows all the time. If they can handle this then they’ll be the stronger for it, and we need more than just numbers in the next few weeks, we’ll need strength, experience, and . . .”

“Fine, fine,” I said, “but if the Jade Ravens get killed off it’s on your head.”

. . .

“Guys!” Buffy said bursting into the library, “Look what I found!”

It was a note, but I couldn’t make out the hand writing, especially not with Buffy waving the thing around. We all turned to look to Buffy for further explanation.

“It’s a note,” she said, stating the obvious, “from James!” we all waited, “it seems he’s gone to look for the Jade Ravens!”

There was a collective gasp.

“Why would he do that?” Kale asked. I felt a twinge of guilt.

“Oh no!” Kiki cried, “He’ll be killed!”

“Relax everyone,” I said, “the island isn’t very big, James couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble . . .” the words sounded hollow even to me. Even as I tried to reassure everyone I couldn’t help but imagine him alone, lost, half starved, and bleeding from any number buffoon related injuries . . . perhaps in the very shadows of the outer barricade . . .

“It also says that he’s taking Orlani with him . . .” Buffy continued.

We all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank Wee Jas,” I found myself mumbling.

“Orlani should be able to keep him alive . . .” Kiki said, voicing the general consensus.

“What on earth would possess him to go searching for the Jade Ravens?” Kale asked.

“Who knows?” I said with a nervous laugh, “the ideas that guy gets! I tell you!”

“It’s odd ‘cuz Orlani can usually talk him out of his harebrained schemes,” Kiki said.

“Ya,” Fredrick said in agreement, “he must have been awfully determined to ignore Orlani’s good sense.”

“When did he leave?” Kale asked.

“I don’t know,” Buffy muttered, “I was out all day and I just got back tonight, so he could have left anytime between dawn and . . . well almost dusk.”

“Did anyone see him at all today?” Kale asked.

There were blank faces all around.

“I’ll look for him first thing in the morning,” I said, “at worst he’ll only be out there for a day . . .”

Everyone mumbled concern.

“And remember,” I said trying to put everyone at ease, “he does have Orlani with him.”

. . .

“James!” I snapped at the roguish captain when Kiki and I landed, “where the heck have you been?!”

“I don’t know!” James snapped back, he was clearly agitated, and nearly at his wits end, “I’m lost! Ok? I don’t even know where I am! How the hell do you expect me to tell you where I’ve been? I get it; I’m a captain not a woodsman, and I was stupid to go off on my own, Let’s all dump on James!”

“You’re filthy,” Kiki observed, “how did you get so dirty so fast?”

“He fell into some quick sand,” Orlani mumbled, “a cave shaft, and stumbled off a cliff. Then he almost caught fire cooking supper . . .”

“I didn’t even know the island had quicksand,” I said with some surprise.

“Well it does,” James snapped, “along with fire ants!”

“Oh yes,” Orlani said, “I forgot about them . . .”

“Fine, whatever,” I said, “let’s just go home.”

“Fine,” James snapped, “I’ve had it up to here with this stupid jungle anyways! Frigging little mud walkers! Let’s just see how smart they are on solid ground!”

I looked Orlani, but she gave me a little ‘don’t ask’ look and shook her head. I can only assume that that’s where James got the small bite mark on his nose. I teleported everyone back to Farshore.

. . .

“The election results are in,” Telda said. Lavinia, Fredrick, and I looked at each other and rose from our seats. Everyone assembled around Lavinia. Tolin and Fredrick both moved to offer Lavinia their arms to escort her to the assembly but Lavinia wisely took Tolin’s arm. Normally I might have felt a twinge of anger at Tolin’s presumptiveness, but seeing as Lavinia had made it quite clear to him that she didn’t have any romantic feelings for him, his role as escort would only be for appearances. Tolin was a better choice, Fredrick was a bit of a ladies’ man, but Tolin had but one flame, and Tolin wasn’t likely to garner rumors about Lavinia’s virtue. Kale would have been a better choice . . . I don’t think I’ve even seen him with a lady . . . but he’s far too dense to realize what he should do in social situations.

“Well this is it,” Lavinia said. She looked tense. I felt tense, despite my ace in the hole, but I refused to let Lavinia feel any doubt.

“This election is yours,” I said, “Remember what I told you. Manthalay doesn’t stand a chance.”

We walked to the chapel where everyone else had gathered to hear the results. I quickly scanned the crowd for Kiki. I spotted her near the stage. She smiled at me and gave me the ok sign. I breathed a sigh of relief. I waited for the results. Not that it mattered. Kiki had been my ace in the hole, silently, and with my ring, invisibly observing the elections. She had very strict instructions about spoiling ballets for Manthalay if he got more than one hundred and nineteen votes. It was purely morbid curiosity at this point to find out what the margin of victory was.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” Vesserin said, opening his hands, “we are gathered here today to observe a monumental event in our town’s history . . .”

“Just get on with it,” Manthalay mumbled from the far side of the stage. His smug smile and cocky swagger was gone, clearly the election had run its toll on him as well. I heard that he even spent most of last night buying drinks for his supporters and speaking to anyone who’d listen. The whole thing smacked of desperation.

“Ya,” shouted a lout from the crowd, probably a Manthalay supporter, “just get on with it!”

“Four years ago the Vanderboren and Meravanchi families,” Vesserin continued, “invested in a strange venture, colonization of the strange and mysterious Isle of Dread, and they sought brave and bold men and women who were equal to the endeavor.” Vesserin paused for dramatic effect, unfortunately for him a murmur ran through the crowd, and it wasn’t one that seemed supportive of priest’s public speaking, “Now, four years later . . .”

“Get on with it!” called a number of people, and to be fair this was hardly the time for speeches, people wanted to hear the results.

“Shall I just get to the results then?” Vesserin asked, amongst the jeers, perhaps slightly oblivious to the frustrations and animosity that this election had stirred up, “very well, here are the results: Manthalay Meravanchi: one hundred and eleven,” a murmur ran through the crowd, “Lavinia Vanderboren: one hundred and twenty . . .” I lost the exact number, it might have six or seven, the cheer from Lavinia’s supporters around me drowned out the last digit, but it was clear that Lavinia had won. It wasn’t a huge margin of victory; the town was almost split straight down the middle, but for the time being Lavinia had a mandate to run things her way.

Lavinia took the stage. There were few grumbles, Manthalay stalked off (along with a few of his supporters), but for the most part Lavinia’s was received warmly. She gave her acceptance speech, with little variation from the one she’d been practicing last night, and today she managed to hit all her cues perfectly. She was wonderful, the applause was completely genuine, and when she finished speaking I felt she had the entire crowd in the palm of her hand. It seemed that even some of the Manthalay crowd was applauding by then end . . .

Lavinia’s speech had the crowd mesmerized. I took the opportunity to approach Kiki.

“I didn’t have to do anything,” Kiki said when I was close enough, she slipped my ring back into my hand, “Lavinia won this fair and square.”

“And you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” I said, trying to keep my eyes on Lavinia and the stage, “especially not her.”

“Lips are sealed,” Kiki said, “it’ll be our little secret, I won’t tell anybody . . . who knows maybe I can use this as leverage later . . .”

“What?” I gasped, glancing down at Kiki.

“What?” she said looking up at me with those innocent eyes, “I said it’ll be our little secret.”

I grumbled and stalked off. Lavinia had won on her own (without the need of our tampering), and that was good, but Kiki now had something to hold over my head, and that was potentially bad. Still, Kiki wasn’t a particularly malicious type, so I’m not terribly worried about whatever future demands she might have, but this should teach me about doing anything nefarious or underhanded again. I’m just not cut out for politics.

Something lurked in the Sea Wyvern, something vile and slimy, like an insidious demon slug under a rotting plank. It had claimed our ship as its new home but today we had something to say about that . . .

Yesterday we’d watched our ship carefully from the tree line. An elasmosaurus was seen around the boat with alarming frequency. It seemed unlikely that it was living in the hull as the hole had been too small but it was possible that there was some cave in the reef that the thing called home. Normally I understood that these beasts preferred deeper water but obviously something kept drawing it to our ship. It seemed suspicious. The others were egger to investigate, but I had used most of my most powerful magic simply transporting everyone to the beach, and Amella (with the Blue Nixie) wouldn’t be arriving till today or tomorrow. I saw no reason to move too soon.

After a hearty breakfast we moved down to the beach. Buffy cast water walk on all the groundlings and I activated my ring of invisibility before flying off to investigate. I activated my boots of levitation as I flew so that I might safely hover (where ever) high above the ship. The rough surf showed no signs of the dinosaur so I decided to fly down to the ship and inspect the damage. I hadn’t the opportunity before. Kale, Kiki, James, and Orlani had visited the ship and delivered their verdict, but now I had a chance to inspect the devastation first hand. I flew around to the gaping hole and started surveying the damages . . . but something seemed wrong . . . it took a moment for my mind to piece together exactly what . . .

Outside the ragged hole it seemed that all the clutter, like the drift wood and loose boards, had been washed away, and inside the ship’s hold crates were neatly stacked to the side. In fact everything inside was tidy. Not far from the hole I spied some broken shells. It slowly dawned on me that something was living in our ship. At first I thought it might have been a survivor, someone that we’d somehow not counted among the dead, and for a brief moment I almost called out to tell them that they’d be rescued . . . then I remember Lavinia’s warnings:

“Tristan you’ll be careful won’t you?” She’d asked.

“Oh course, careful is almost my middle name, Tristan Careful Lidu,” I mused, “but don’t worry Lavinia, we’re only going to fix a boat. That’s not exactly high adventure.”

“But this is a dangerous island,” Lavinia said, “and I’ve heard that shipwrecks are quickly inhabited by all manner of horrid creature. You will be careful won’t you? You’ll approach with caution?”
“Of course,” I said, “I can’t even remember the last time I did something reckless . . .”

“The Troglodytes?” Lavinia prompted, a hint of anger or annoyance in her voice, “Yesterday?”

“Oh Lavinia,” I laughed, “This again? We were over this! They were only troglodytes.”

Lavinia suddenly seized me by my collar, which was very uncustomary of her, she was a bit stronger than me (must have been all that sword work), and she quickly hauled me around to face her, “Tristan,” she said with her eyes locked into mine, a hit of anger in her voice, “I want you to promise me that you’ll be very careful.”

“Fine!” I snapped, not particularly pleased with this rough treatment.

“No,” she snarled, “promise me!”

I looked into her eyes and something told me that I wasn’t going to leave without making the silly promise. You’d think I was Kiki or something.

“Fine, I promise to be careful,” I said, “but I don’t like being man handled. If you were anyone else I’d have very quickly shown you that I’m not a lady to be trifled with!”

“You can act like quite the child at times,” Lavinia growled.

“I could level this town!” I snapped, thinking that she wasn’t taking me seriously, “I’m not that young woman you summoned to your house all those months ago! I’m ten times more powerful . . .”

“Seriously,” she snarled, “I have half a mind to take you over my knee . . .”

“Eep!” I gasped as I quickly D-doored away. I wasn’t about to stay around for that sort of thing! Especially with the elections so looming so close.

Lavinia’s warning made me think though. What proof did I have that a survivor was living in the boat? There were likely still a few dry rations aboard the boat but were did these shells come from? High tide would wash them away. An intelligent creature had clearly rearranged the cargo, I naturally assumed that it meant human, but as I scanned the waterline it occurred to me that whoever was living here would need to be a strong swimmer to contend with the powerful tide that continually pounded the reef . . . and then there was the matter of the elasmosaurus. I’d thought that the dinosaur lived near the reef . . . but we’d seen no sign of him the day of the tragedy . . . what if whoever had moved into our ship also brought the dinosaur with them . . .

I took to the air, I was about to shout my warnings, when suddenly the dinosaur erupted from the water beneath my companion’s feet. The beast was ferocious, but so were we, and given time we would have bested the beast . . . suddenly a massive shark erupted from the water and started attacking my companions as well. This wasn’t a random encounter . . . unless I missed my guess someone or something had summoned it. Two can play at that game I thought . . .

I called forth my own giant shark like thing . . . and after it appeared, I called forth another, then some regular sized sharks. Soon the water was crimson and white around the Sea Wyvern. Those normal sharks were no match for my pseudonatural ones. My companions began scaling the ship while I commanded my horrors to circle the ship and kill anything that should try to flee . . .

“I can hear something casting below deck!” Kiki called.

I quickly threw down some of the ropes to aid in the boarding (some of our group are not the best climbers) then I flew down to investigate. The lower decks of the Sea Wyvern were dark. Without my torch every shadow looked dark and menacing. What horrible sea creature was living in our ship? I was almost certain that it was a sea creature now, too many clues pointed to that, but as of yet I wasn’t sure exactly what I was dealing with. My mind recalled bullywugs, Sahuagin, water trolls, but little would have prepared me for what I discovered . . .

In the hull of the Wyvern, where the water was waste deep and the sun had never shone something stirred. It must have sensed the door opening as it rose to greet me. In its humanoid hands it gripped a blade made of angry red flame and shadows danced across its puke green bulbous body. Its head, which I first hoped was an imagination of my low light sensory deprivation, seemed to resemble dread Cthulhu, for its mouth was surrounded with tentacles. The resemblance was short lived . . . I caught a glimpse of its eyes in the dark, and was disappointed to see the wall eyed glare of a common carp. The water rippled around its body and I caught the hint of more tentacles under the surface. Its body seemed to stretch out in the darkness, searching for the intruder that it’s fishy eyes couldn’t see . . .

Suddenly Kale splashed down in the hold beside me.

“It’s in the Hold!” Kale hollered up to the others, then he turned to our uninvited guest, “All right you freak get off our ship!” he growled. Wisely he waited for some support to arrive before lunging forward. Buffy’s ion stone quickly lit up the hold. With his opponent now completely in view Kale chose an overhand swing, perhaps hopping to finish the fight quickly, but his two handed chop seemed to deflect off of the monster’s rubbery skin. Then beast retaliated. The monster was like a windmill as arms and claws, tentacles, flame blade, and mouth all lashed out at Kale, and then the creature pulled him under the water. I quickly cast haste on my companions. Hopefully one of them could rescue Kale.

Kiki opened fire as Buffy and James circled the thing, even with my spell making them move twice as fast, it was slow moving through the thigh deep water. It was nearly up to Kiki’s neck! Lucky she didn’t need to climb all the way down the ladder to fire.

Kale resurfaced as the monster was forced to retreat. Seeing my opportunity I summoned an orb of cold, using all of my tricks, and blasted the vicious sea creature. To my surprise he didn’t drop. He looked up at me and for a moment I felt his mind try to invade mine. A pathetic and foolish attempt, between Hop-Toy, my summons, and my own manic and obsessive musing, the squid faced fool could scarcely make himself heard over the perpetual chorus. I laughed at his dismal effort and the beast, which had showed a rudimentary intelligence up to this point, suddenly lunged for me. Four blades sunk into his body, Buffy’s mace bounced resoundingly off its head, and Churtle’s spiked chain coiled around its neck causing its head to snap sharply to one side. The beast collapsed and started violently twitching. It would be nearly an hour before the thing finally lay still in death.

The Sea Wyvern was ours again and only Kale suffered any serious wounds. The mission was an outstanding success on all levels. Thankfully the ship seemed pretty much as we’d left it. We were happy to discover that much of the supplies that Lavinia needed were still in excellent shape. Our visitor also left us with some trinkets, including a ring, an ioun stone, and an amulet that Buffy was quick to snatch up. I’m sure we’ll be able to put these items to good use.

Amella and the Blue Nixie arrived sometime in the late afternoon and we soon began the long process of repairing the Sea Wyvern. Between Amella, Orlani, and Dranys (the carpenter from Farshore) we had more than enough expertise to repair the ship, and with those three supervising our work crews would be in good hands. After supper I asked the three how long they figured the process would take.

“Best possibility?” Amella asked, “we can get her patched up in three days, if we run into problems? Maybe a week, possibly more.”

“Is there anything we need from Sasserine?” I asked, “It’s not likely I’ll be much use here . . .”

“Someone has to guard the ships,” Kale said, “We can’t risk letting you go off gallivanting . . .”

“Fine,” I said, my words must have been as cold as one of my orbs of cold as James attempted to suppress an involuntary shiver, “My research can wait. We’ll guard the ship. I’m sure the crew will appreciate us watching over them for the next few days.”

“There’re all sorts of dangerous creatures about,” Kale continued, “we should set up watches again . . .”

“Absolutely,” I said glaring at Kale, “my time couldn’t be better spent.”

“It’s not a glorious job but . . .” Kale allowed the sentence to trail off.

“But what?” I asked.

“Somebody has to do it . . . owe!” Kale said looking to James (who I guess must have kicked him under the table).

“Yes,” I said, “and that someone is me is it?”

“We take turns . . . owe!”

“Right,” I snapped, “I’ll be in my room, ladies feel free to join me if you like, I’m sure you gentlemen can find accommodations on your own?”

I summoned my secure shelter on the deck of the Sea Wyvern. Despite the slope of the ship the shelter itself was completely level. It was an interesting feature of the magic which I’d often suspected but never had the chance to verify. Too bad the next few days would be a complete waste of time.

“I wonder if your rage is completely biological or not,” the stupid monkey head had the audacity to ask as I stepped into the shelter, “I understand that the female body goes through these changes sometimes with the cycles of the moons but . . .”

I reached into my haversack and threw the head across the room.

“Weee! Ouch!” The bodiless head said as it bounced off the wall, “Wow, I think this fleshy concept of pain is wonderful! Throw me again!”

“What do you want?” I snapped.

“Have we forgotten all formality?” he asked, I drew my knife, “I’ll let it slide this time. I’m only asking for acknowledgement. I’d like to think that you don’t simply seem me as another pretty face . . .”

“I’ll ask you one more time Chimpman,” I said, “what do you want . . .”

“Funny you should mention time,” the ape grinned, “notice anything?”

I looked about the room; suddenly it occurred to me that the entity hadn’t pulled me out of time to talk to me, “How?” I asked.

“Your mind is slowly attuning itself,” it said, “as you become more and more aware of the true nature of the universe it becomes easier for me to reach into your world.”

“So the others might soon be able to hear you?” I asked.

“Doubtful,” the head said with a roll of its eyes, “mortals see and hear what they want to see and hear. This is why your kind is so susceptible to illusions. Your lazy brains don’t want to accept the possibility of refracted light or . . .”

“So there’s still just the possibility that you’re a figment of my imagination as no one can verify your existence.”

“Nobody can verify your existence if you look at it that way. Everyone might just be a figment of your imagination.”

“I’m not concerned if I exist or not,” I said walking over and picking up the head, “I’m not a philosopher or an illusionist. I know that this head exists because I can touch it and feel it. Unfortunately me and Hop-Toy are the only ones that can hear you talk, and I’m beginning to fear that we may be the only ones to see you move . . . of your own accord . . .”

“It is quite possible that you are imagining everything. That your insanity has spread across that link which you share with your familiar . . . or your need to have someone else acknowledge my existence is so great that you’ve somehow pressured his tiny mind . . .”

“You enjoy this don’t you?”

“Enjoy what?” Kiki asked behind me. I jumped. I didn’t even hear her enter.

“Of course,” Chimpman said, “it’s like trying to prove the existence of blue to a blind man.”

“Are you pretending that head is Kale?” Kiki asked.

“No,” I said slipping the head back into the haversack, “but I’m sure it has about the same density.”

“Kale can be thick sometimes,” Kiki said nodding, “but if something does go wrong . . .”

“Look,” I said sitting down on one of the bunks, Kiki climbed up beside me, “I’d never leave you guys if I thought there was any real danger. Those sea creatures were nasty but I think you guys could have handled it without my help. And it was living out here. I’m no expert on the ecology of the Isle of Dread, but that likely means that it wasn’t worried about something coming by and disturbing it. I can’t imagine large predators just randomly roaming the coast to attack things, I’d think that they’d follow some sort of migration, and I’m guessing that if tentacle face felt safe camping out in our ship, we’ll probably be safe for a few more days. Tell you what though, if I’m wrong, and you do need my help before the ship is repaired I’ll buy you a drink at the last coconut.”

“Deal!” Kiki said. It was a bet with no downside I realized later, but I didn’t think I was going to have to worry about spending my coins on alcohol.

Now begins the wait,
Cthulhu dreams

The temple of the Jaguar, we spent five days slogging through the jungle to find it, for although the phanatons had clearly marked it on our map, and although I was able to fly high above the jungle to scout for the mysterious temple, rain, fog, and the densely packed jungle hampered our efforts.

Being lost in a jungle tends to end the small talk. There wasn’t much patience that morning as we began our second day of backtracking. Our phanaton allies had marked the temple on our map but as James had happily quipped four days ago “an X on a map is not exactly the same as an X on the ground,” it had seemed slightly amusing then, and it had lifted our spirits after a day of futile searching, but by day four, the first day of backtracking, our good humor had run out. Most of yesterday we’d spent grumbling and cursing both James and Fredrick as if they were somehow the cause of our bad luck. They had taken it upon themselves to navigate, but none of us had any practical woodland knowledge, and I don’t doubt that any one of us that had taken the lead in this mission would have met with similar catastrophic failure. Still it was nice to have someone to blame . . .

“Maybe we should go back to the oman villages or Farshore to find a woodsman,” Kiki said beside me.

“Maybe,” I echoed, truth is I’d been thinking the same thing.

“You know Tolin is an experienced woodsman,” Kiki said, without a hint of a smile.

“I’d rather die of starvation, alone, in the deepest nastiest part of this jungle then ask for his help!” I snapped.

“He’s a big hunter,” she said, quickly talking him up, “always stalking, and trying to bag the big prizes. Like rare birds or young does.”

“The man’s an insolent pig and he seeks to over step his place. He’s always starting fights as well.”

“Tolin is quite the explorer I hear,” Kiki continued, I was wondering why she suddenly so supportive of the great vacuous bore, “most of the ladies say he’s really anxious to go off exploring into uncharted territory . . .”

I was about to respond when something occurred to me.

“Kiki,” I said, my eyes narrowing, “are you trying to make double entendres?”

“No,” she said looking up at me with innocent eyes, “I don’t even know what a single entendre is, how could I possibly make them double?”

‘She’s funny,’ Hop-Toy said. Toads didn’t really laugh exactly, but they did have a strange (almost morbid) sense of humor, and they often, against their better judgment, enjoy sharing that unique sense of humor with their masters . . . much to their master’s chagrin. ‘What’s the matter Tristan? Are you just realizing that Tolin is a poacher?’

“Laugh it up . . .” I muttered under my breath, “you two are a couple of comedians. . .”

“I found something!” Kale shouted from the front, and for a moment the slights were forgotten. A nearly solid wall of vegetation gave way to a clearing on the jungle floor. I use the word ‘clearing’ loosely, it was more of a less densely vegetated depression than an actual clearing, and all sorts of greenery had invaded and reclaimed the village. Two dozen huts sat in around what must have been the temple of the jaguar. Everything was vine covered and decaying. No one had lived in this village for a long time . . . or so we thought . . .

As we approached the temple entrance it seemed as though a great tree trunk shifted . . . it was a snake . . . as long as a ship, and its horrible mouth, with its foot long teeth, bit into Kale’s arm, and in a heartbeat it had pulled Kale high up on top of the wall. We could only watch in horror as the thick coils instantly wrapped around Kale’s body and started squeezing. Kale’s face seemed to almost instantly go purple as capillaries burst and blood was forced to his head. The others were unable to reach the massive snake and were forced to resort to missile fire. For a moment I considered trying to ice the monster, or summoning something that could reach the beast, I told myself that Kale was tough, that he could last for a while, and another part of me said he probably deserves a bit of squeezing, but another part of my brain told me that Kale was a friend and I couldn’t risk Kale’s life. Also he was our heavy hitter and I needed him up and fighting if we were to slay this beast.

I took to the air and danced through the jungle growth towards Kale, thinking that my ring of invisibility would allow me to rescue Kale completely undetected, but as I got within a few feet of Kale I heard the snap of the snake’s mouth snapping at the air where I’d been only a blink earlier. I placed my hand on Kale and pulled him through the 4th dimension. I placed us down just out of the snake’s reach on the other side of the wall. The snake responded by snatching up Kiki and attempting to crush her. It seemed Karma was in my favor.

Kale and the others opened fire with their ranged weapons while I blasted it with my magic. Moments later the snake dropped Kiki and attempted to flee. We weren’t feeling particularly benevolent at the time though, and we chased after it, and brutally put the giant handbag down. Kiki and Kale were more or less ok, despite their ordeals. Buffy’s healing had them looking as good as new in no time. After I was sure there was no permanent damage I felt a slight tinge of sadistic glee. Kiki had been teasing me and fate had seen fit to punish her . . . and Kale, well, he could always use a bit of a lumping. He certainly earned a lifetime of thrashings after his behavior on the Sea Wyvern, he had toned down a bit in the last few weeks, but he still walked about with a smug aloofness and a sense of moral superiority that I don’t care for. Seeing him brought down a peg would make him far more likable in my mind.

I should also point out that once the battle was over Kale seemed to forget that I’d risked my life to rescue him. Not that I felt the need to point it out to him, nor did I feel that I’d done anything above or beyond the call of duty, but still a little recognition would be nice. He is quick to point out my errors though . . .

We approached the temple again, this time moving cautiously and hoping that there were no more surprises. The temple complex showed signs of a slaughter. The bones of a catlike race were strewn all about the grounds. There were the broken and crushed bones and skulls of children along with those of adults. It seemed likely that none of the people had survived the slaughter. There were also chips and gashes in the walls where heavy weapons had struck stone instead of flesh and left their marks. Statues and carvings had also been defiled as the attackers had sought to add one last indignity to their victims by destroying their culture and history. The monsters had committed these acts were truly a vile and despicable people. We reluctantly entered the temple.

Inside the rough pyramid we discovered an amazing sight. A great statue sat in the middle of the temple, untouched by the ravages of time, and looking as though it had been completed only yesterday. The base was formed by statues of warriors, priests, and sages, all looked vaguely human, and each layer supported another layer until it reached the top to reveal an impressively large jade statue of a jaguar. I wondered if the great statue might form a strange hierarchical tree, or if the different layers might represent different generations. I wondered if the rakastas might once have been human.

I flew to top and attempted to perch high atop the statue to examine it more closely and to better scope out the surroundings . . . but my foot passed straight through it as I attempted to land! My heart jumped into my throat. I hadn’t had that unexpected falling feeling in a long time. I struggled to fly as gravity and momentum pulled me sharply down. I dropped completely through the illusory statue and into the darkness below. Thankfully I managed to stop my terrifying fall somewhere below the floor of the temple. I activated my boots of levitation and pulled out my everburning torch from my haversack. I found myself in an underground complex. On one of the walls I spied a ladder carved into the rock. The ladder led to a narrow ledge with a door arch. The shaft continued (with smooth walls) down past that ledge into the darkness below. This was a hidden complex concealed by powerful magic. It was also a deadly trap. What, I wondered, could be hidden below?

“Tristan,” Kiki was calling, “where are you?”

“Are you alright?” Kale called out.

“Boss!” Churtle barked in distress.

“I’m alright!” I called up as I slowly levitated back to the surface, “be careful, there’s some powerful illusionary magic all around here. This is why I hate the stuff really. It’s such a cheap trick of a school. Quite frankly I’d rather have a real statue then this stupid thing.”

I could have flown but I wanted to examine the walls on my climb, Kiki would need to look things over for herself, but my untrained eye could see nothing suspicious. The ladder looked to be in amazing condition, without a hit of mold or fungus on the stone, and the rock naturally seemed sturdy enough to support our weight. I caught the reflective shimmer of water somewhere far below.

“What’s taking so long?” Kale asked.

“I’m looking for anything suspicious,” I snapped, “easier for me to do it now coming up then Kiki could going down.”

“Fine,” Kale laughed, “relax . . .”

I felt my hand tighten around my torch as I momentarily imagined it to be Kale’s neck . . .

“I only thought you might have run into some problems,” he continued, “I’m allowed to worry about you aren’t I?”

I finally reached the ground floor of the temple. Most of the others seemed to see me through the illusion but James did not.

“What are you all looking at?” he asked.

“Tristan’s back,” Orlani said to him, looking on with some concern.

James squinted. “Is she on the other side . . .” he started to ask, but at that moment I flew through the illusion and James jumped like he’d seen a ghost! It took a moment of explaining but soon even his mind was able to wrap around the illusion.

“There’s a ladder over here,” I pointed out to the others. A few minutes later we stood at the base of the ladder at the mouth of a winding tunnel. The tunnel was lined and decorated with jaguar statues, real ones, with gemstone eyes. The fact that they were still intact and in good shape suggested that the attackers who had desiccated the village, the people, and the statues outside, had failed to discover this hidden temple complex inside.

We eventually found ourselves in a large underground temple . . . probably the true temple. It had impressive twenty foot ceilings that were lit with magical everburning torches. The chamber walls were richly decorated with murals of cat headed warriors fighting dinosaurs, demons, and even more horrible looking creatures. Here we saw the cat warriors we’d heard described. Was this temple of a later date then the one above?

“What are you doing here?!” a strange voice demanded, “You are not my people, so this is not your temple. Explain yourselves quickly.”

The voice came from somewhere above us, and as my eyes were drawn upward I couldn’t help but gasp, for there, coiled around one of the pillars was a mythical couatl! A winged snake to the layman. Yet despite our earlier encounter with a serpent I didn’t feel the slightest shock or fear, couatls were benevolent creatures, and were unlikely to attack without provocation. Then I remembered that we were trespassing and this semi divine being must have felt or known about the devastation above . . .

“Fredrick,” I whispered, “start talking!”

“You’ll have to forgive our intrusion,” Fredrick began, “we are but humble adventures and we were told by many that the village was deserted. We saw signs of the devastation above, we know now that something truly horrible happened to the rakastas that lived above, and you must know that if our need were not so great we would never have sought to intrude on their one remaining sanctum. But we are in despite need, and we do need all the help we can get, for the town we come from, Farshore, is doomed to be attacked by the Crimson Fleet. We heard legends . . .”

“From the Oman people,” I quickly added, “who used to revere and worship your kind.”

“That the rakastas were talented weapon smiths,” Fredrick continued.

“And we’re desperately lacking supplies and weapons,” I added.

“And although we heard that the rakastas had vanished,” Fredrick said glancing to me.

“We had hoped that some vestige still remained . . .” I said.

“And so we came here, hoping against hope, to find rakastas to trade with,” Fredrick said looking back up at the couatl, “or perhaps some secret cache of weapons, but hope is quickly fading.”

“We didn’t mean to intrude,” I felt the need to reassert.

“Had we known that this place was still inhabited we would have asked for permission,” Fredrick wisely added, “and if you wish we will leave. We have no desire to accidentally desecrate or trespass . . .”

Fredrick allowed the words to hang there. The couatl gazed upon us for some time, then, with grace and dexterity, he glided down to our level.

“I believe you,” he said, “but you must understand why I had my doubts. What happened above, to my village, was monstrous, but I was powerless to stop it. I should have died with my people but I didn’t. I fled and now all the rakastas are dead and yet I, the supposed protector of their people, am all that remains.”

The great being voice was filled with such sorrow. I wanted to comfort it but what could I say to end all that hurt?

“Who did this to your people,” James demanded, “we’ll bring revenge!”

“So you’ll do to them what they did to my people? Some say blood calls out for blood, but such violence won’t bring my people back . . .”

“When we’re finished with this Crimson Fleet . . .” Kale started saying.

“Yes,” the couatl interrupted, “I couldn’t save me people, but perhaps I can give you the tools you need to save your own.” The creature’s tail darted out and touched a hidden button in the central platform of the temple. The sound of ancient gears and the creak of wood filled the air as the central platform rose to reveal a hidden weapons cache! There were bows, spears, javelins, and strange clawed gauntlets that looked as though they would shred an opponent in ribbons in melee. “Here is all that remains of the rakasta’s legacy. Take what you need but do not waste or squander this gift. Remember my people and speak kindly of them, for they truly were a noble race . . .”

“Tell me who did this,” James whispered, “if not for you, for me. Fredrick here can honor your people with his fancy words, Tristan here can record their story with words and paper, but me, I’m just a simple sailor, a privateer, and a warrior. I’m a simple man. There’s one way, and one way only, that I can return this favor: bring justice for your people . . . tell me who did this.”

“High upon the central plateau sits the ruins of the ancient city of Thanaclan. From this long forgotten seat of oman power I feel great evil spreading. The monsters that attacked my people are known as skinwalkers. They are horrible creatures that sacrificed their humanity to serve some evil host. They cannot be reasoned with, they will not offer mercy or give quarter, and they won’t be happy till everything that is good and pure on this island is destroyed and gone. That is who attacked my people and that is from whence they came.”

“Then they must be stopped,” Kale said.

“Yes,” the couatl nodded, “but If couldn’t stand against them, and forgive me if I sound condescending, but what could you do to stand up to them?”

“We’re surprisingly innovative,” I said, “good at smashing things, and we’re great at shattering expectations. I’m not saying that we can destroy these skinwalkers . . . I’m just saying that you might be surprised.”

The creature nodded. “Very well,” it said, “I must take my leave of you now, I need to return to the outer planes to seek atonement for my failings, but before I go I must leave you with one final warning and one final boon. Beware of temptation. There are things that will try to corrupt you, turn you against one another, and be careful that in your fight against evil that you don’t become what you seek to destroy. Now lastly I make a gift of three of my feathers,” he said as three multi colored feathers fell from his wings and into Buffy’s open hands, “use them to call me if you should ever need my help in the future . . .”

“Wait,” Buffy cried, “what’s your name?”

“Tonatiuh,” he said as he shifted out of reality, “don’t let my people’s memory die . . .”

We spent the next hour or so bringing the weapons to the surface. We had quite the stockpile when all was said and done. Even a couple of magical ones. We could equip about a hundred soldiers with this stock but we’d need to somehow transport it back to Farshore. There was a bit of debate but we eventually decided to split the group up. I’d teleport the men (carrying the weapons) back to Fareshore with me, while the women waited in the safety of my magical shelter till the morrow when I’d return. It wasn’t the most ideal solution but it was all we had at the time.

Soon I, and my three human pack mules, were standing on the beach near Farshore. I left them to sort out the weapons; I immediately went to visit Lavinia. It had been almost a week sense I’d visited her from the phanaton village, she seemed even more ragged and tired now then she had then.

“Lavinia,” I said, drawing her attention from her desk, “how are things?”

I found myself in an unexpected hug.

“That bad?” I asked.

“No,” she said into my shoulder, “things are going good. You’ve been a great help. The seven villages have started sending aide. We’re expecting the first shipment of tar any day now. I think the phanatons will be a huge help as well when they get here. What you’ve done in the harbor . . .”

“But . . .” I prompted.

“There’s always a new crop of problems popping up everywhere . . .”

“What about the election?” I asked.

She shuddered and returned to her desk.

“We got the militia some new weapons,” I said, “that’s why we’re here!”

She gave a half smile, but her heart wasn’t in it, “that’s great news,” she said, “The stories were true then?”

“Yes,” I said, what was wrong I wondered. There was brief moment of overwhelming silence. I found myself staring into her tired but beautiful eyes. She met my gaze. “You do remember that promised I made you? That you’d be mayor?”

She smiled. It was still a tired, world weary sort of a smile, but I could feel her warmth behind it. Her eyes were still locked into mine, as if there was something of great importance hidden away in them, and yet she said nothing. I wondered what she saw.

“I don’t make many promises you know,” I felt myself being drawn closer, “and I’ve only made two to you and one is that I’ll make you mayor. I find all my promises as of late have been too you.”

I felt her drawing closer as well . . . I felt her breath on my lips . . .

“What’s the big idea leaving us to deal with all those weapons?” Kale snapped as he entered Lavinia’s study.

I stood and Lavinia immediately returned to her work.

“I was discussing our progress with Lavinia,” I snapped, James entered rather sheepishly afterwards, “you’re the warrior, you deal with the weapons.”

“Good work securing those weapons,” Lavinia said, glancing up at the men, “we need to repair the Sea Wyvern yet . . .”

“You said you had some more problems popping up,” I prompted, “what’s causing you grief?”

“Well,” Lavinia said after taking a long steadying breath, “the election for starters, this Lefty character is starting to become a really contentious issue. I think the population is starting to believe Manthalay’s claims that I’m soft. Also Avner is starting to win over the locals with his charm, despite Amella’s efforts, and I fear that despite some fierce campaigning, the election is starting to slip away from me . . .”

“We brought Fredrick here with us,” I said, “He’ll soon sort this mess out.”

“But there’s only two weeks left before the election.”

“Ages and ages to sway people’s opinions,” I assured her, “you need to step back and delegate. You’re doing too much . . .”

“Won’t we need Fredrick to help with the boat?” Kale asked.

“There could be all sorts of monsters living in or around that boat by now,” Lavinia pointed out, “you might need his swords or navigational skills.”

“Somehow we’ll manage,” I said wryly, “what else?”

“There’s been some thefts from the local warehouses,” Lavinia said, I rolled my eyes at absurdness of this being brought to Lavinia’s attention, the villages should have been cleaver enough to solve this, “but wait,” Lavinia quickly added when she saw my reaction, “the thief or thieves seems able to get into locked and guarded buildings, take what they want, and escape without being detected. We’ve already determined that it’s not an inside job . . .”

“Why don’t you have the Jade Ravens look into this?” I asked. This task didn’t sound dangerous or particularly difficult so it sounded like exactly the sort of job they could handle, “Get Tolin to handle this . . .”

“Tolin and I haven’t been talking,” Lavinia said, “he confessed his love for me and I made it clear that it was never going to happen.” She glanced at me for some reason, “I don’t date employees.” She quickly added.

“And as well you shouldn’t,” I nodded, “it’s unseemly. We’ll find the Jade Ravens and set them to work for you. What other problems?”

“Jeran Emrikad over at the hall of records has said he’s made some sort of discovery and wants to meet with me,” Lavinia sighed, “but considering all of my other problems . . .”

“James can go and meet him,” I said looking to James, “you can sort him out I think.”

“I’ll take care of it,” James said with a nod.

“There’s also the matter of trade routes,” Lavinia sighed, “I’m getting pressure . . .” she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, “you see with two ships in the harbor people seem to think that I should start be starting trade routes.”

“But we need those boats for the defense and upkeep of Farshore,” James snapped, “Those people are idiots!”

“I know,” Lavinia sighed, “but I’m not a very popular figure right now and I’m unsure exactly how to deal with such complaints in the middle of an election.”

“Tell them to stuff it,” I snapped, furious at the implication that someone thought they could pressure Lavinia in an election for personal gain, “anyone that stupid doesn’t deserve you as mayor. I’ll be head of the complaint department. Send theses idiots my way.”

“And lastly there are these reports of Troglodytes,” Lavinia said, “I’d hoped that we could peacefully co-exist on this island, but apparently they’re getting bolder . . .”

“Troglodytes?” I asked, “Where?”

“The central part of the island,” Lavinia said, “there’s a large cave . . .”

“I’ll take care of that right now,” I said, “what time is it?”

“We should be able to clear up some of these problems for you,” James said, “I’m sure things will be far less hectic once they’re taken care of.”

“Kale you go find Tolin and tell him about this warehouse,” I said, “he can get the rest of the Jade . . .”

“They’re no longer working together,” Lavinia said, “you might need to gather them up and convince them to get back together. I’m not quite sure of all the details . . . but you should know that Zan is often seen in the bar, Kaskus in the green house, and Liamae is often in the chapel.”

“The chapel? Kale asked.

“Yes,” Lavinia said, “on our journey over she was struck by lightning and claimed to see a forty foot Rudd beaming down on her. She’s been fiercely religious ever sense. The others avoid her now, seems she’s been trying to convert everyone.”

“Fine then,” I said turning back to Kale, “find Tolin and convince that worthless lump that he needs to get back to work, James you find Zan, we’ll get Fredrick to track down the dwarf, and I’ll find the lightning rod.”

“Why do I have to talk to Tolin?” Kale asked, seemed no one liked Tolin.

“Why?” I asked holding up my hand with the ring of invisibility, “because . . .” I activated my ring, “uh oh, invisible, can’t argue with me anymore.”

Kale ground his teeth. Lately I’d started ending all my arguments with Kale that way, by simply turning invisible and not talking, after a while Kale felt as though he was arguing with himself, and would reluctantly stop. It was wonderful. I never had much use for the illusion school but this was the greatest spell ever.

I did eventually tracked Liamae down but first I needed to make a quick side trek to the center of the island. Near a great cave.

“Oh, I’m a helpless lost villager alone in the woods,” I called out in draconic, “I sure do hope that I don’t run into any monsters or troglodytes . . .”

A horrible wooden Javelin grazed my leg and three of the nasty beasts stumbled out of the woods towards me. I felt a smile cross my lips. I took to the air; two more javelins hit me, one in the front and one in the back. I activated my ring of invisibility. The nasty little beasts threw more javelins at where I’d been, perhaps foolishly thinking that I was still there or that I’d fled, and they laughed and taunted me in their crude draconic. Meanwhile I activated my boots of levitation and hovered safely some twenty feet above and slightly behind them. They continued scanning the sky where they’d last seen me. I started summoning. One monster, with particularly sharp ears, pointed to the sky quite close to where I hovered. A few more Javelins were thrown up at me . . . and then a massive horror (not completely unlike a dire boar) stood in their midst . . .

It took almost five minutes in all. The troglodytes summoned reinforcements . . . and so did I! Some of the trogs rode in on giant lizards others crashed in through the brush. They stabbed and clawed and bit my monsters but with one bite or one gore or in retaliation and crumbled like paper. It wasn’t much of a fight. I could scarcely contain my jubilation. The only real danger I faced (apart from the early barrage of javelins) was that the duration on my summons might expire before all of the Troglodytes were did. I had plenty of summonses though . . . but rapidly less and less enemies! I did a clean sweep of the area afterwards. There was no dirt left. All in all twenty trogs and six lizards were sent to meet their scale-ly master in the sky.

I stopped by Lavinia’s to tell her the good news.

“That Troglodyte problem’s been solved.” I said as I appeared in her study.

“Tristan you’re bleeding!” Lavinia said in shock.

“It’s only a flesh wound,” I said waving it off, “don’t worry about it. I’m off to talk with Liamae . . .”

“Wait,” Lavinia said, as she stood to reach out to me, but I quickly turned invisible and fled. I felt something . . . and I knew I couldn’t stay in her presence any longer. I needed a bath in ice water.

“Greetings Tristan Lidu,” Liamae said when I appeared before her, “have you found Rudd?”

“I didn’t know she was missing,” I quipped. Thankfully Liamae didn’t seem insulted by the response.

“Tristan you’re bleeding,” Liamae gasped.

“Why does everyone keep saying that,” I asked, the worst had already sealed over, and the blood was scarcely a trickle, “it’s only a scratch. I’ve seen more blood that time Orlani convinced James to let her shave him. Orlani has steady hands but James had dangerously curious ones. Also I think Orlani is ticklish. Bad mess all around. Maybe you should talk to James about Rudd.”

“Oh Tristan,” Liamae laughed, “I speak of salvation and faith in our lady luck. You’re an adventurer, and you would do well to pray to the lady, for she shines down and sometimes offers her favor in times of need.”

“I’m pretty happy with Wee Jas, thank you, she might not be completely satisfied with me, but that’s another matter. Religious debate isn’t why I’ve come though, Lavinia needs your help, and I was wondering if you’d consider re-forming the Jade Ravens.”

“But of course,” she said, “I’d love to test Rudd’s love . . .”

“Well there’s a thief stealing from one of the warehouses in town, he’s talented and sneaky, and I think it would take quite a bit of luck to catch this character.”

“Consider it done!” Liamae laughed, “I’ll talk to the others immediately. But please let me heal you. You came to my aide all those months ago; let me help you out now.”

I thanked Liamae. Then I flew to a distant beach on the island. I stripped off my cloths and bathed in the waters. The water was cool, but perhaps not cool enough. I wondered if I could control my feelings when I returned to Lavinia. I wouldn’t embarrass myself or Lavinia. She was in the middle of an election . . . scandal or rumors of impropriety could ruin her chances . . . I couldn’t be so selfish.

‘You have needs as well’ Hop-Toy croaked from my clothing pile.

“But if I spoil Lavinia’s chances I’ll never forgive myself,” I snapped back, “and she would be very justified in never forgiving me either.”

‘So your happiness is worth less than running some tiny backwater village?’

“Lavinia’s parents founded this place, it’s all that she has left of them, and I’d rather die than spoil her chances.”

‘Fine,’ Hop-Toy snapped, ‘she’ll be the lady and you can be the knight in one of those dull sexless children’s books. You can hold hands, do her bidding, and come to her rescue. You might even get a kiss as a reward. However don’t come crying to me when the real world passes you by.’

When I finally returned to Lavinia’s home they were just sitting down to supper.

“Tristan I was worried,” Lavinia said when she saw me.

“I’m sorry I had a lot to do,” I said sitting down, “I didn’t mean to run off like that but I didn’t want to fall behind schedule.”

“You were wounded,” Lavinia said, “You mustn’t put everything before yourself!”

‘Smart lady’ Hop-Toy croaked.

“It was nothing,” I reassured her, “besides I was heading to a priest anyways. The only reason I stopped here first was so you’d have one less thing to worry about . . .”

Lavinia smiled and for a moment I thought she might tear up, “my worries are less important than your life . . .” she whispered.

“Guess what?” James asked.

“What,” I asked, somewhat relived with the interruption.

“The tar arrived this afternoon,” James said with a smile.

“That’s great news! Let’s load up the Nixie and set sail tomorrow . . .”

“Already taken care of,” James said, “Amella is sailing at first light. She should get to the Wyvern in three days.”

“Who’s she using as crew,” I asked.

“A few from the Nixie’s earlier voyage,” Fredrick said, “plus some that James has recruited from the village to sail the Wyvern. Plus old Lefty the pirate.”

This was good. This was one of the suggestions I was going to make. If we could get this controversial character out of the public eye it might make things easier for Lavinia. Fredrick had clearly been thinking the same thing.”

“Excellent,” I said, “and you’re fine with looking after things here while we repair the Wyvern?”

“I’ll manage somehow,” Fredrick said with a swirl of the wine Lavinia had served with dinner, “we can’t all slave under the hot sun patching up boats now can we?”

“Did everyone else finish their tasks in town?” I asked my friends.

“Yup,” James said.

“But of course,” Fredrick laughed.

“Yes,” Kale snapped. He wasn’t happy about something.

I let the silence linger a while longer then I turned to Kale, “is there something wrong Kale?”

“Why did I have to deal with Tolin?” he asked.

“Well I thought that you and he . . .”

“I can’t stand him,” Kale snapped, “he’s so arrogant and he’s always putting you down.” I blinked; I wondered if the surprise was written all over my face? Thankfully Kale’s eyes were on his food, “I can’t tell you how close I came to slugging him. You want to talk to him you do it, you always give him an earful anyways, but if I have to hear that blow hard yap again I think it might come to blows.”

Kale . . . who knew you cared?
Cthulhu Dreams

Today we finally reached the Phanaton village and were treated to a small celebration. We gained some important allies, but more importantly, gained more information about the island.

I think I’m almost starting to get used to eating bugs . . . our phanaton guides were busy foraging when we woke. This was their usual routine, they knew how to live off the land, and they knew that the jungle could produce a veritable bounty of food if you knew where to look. They returned to camp producing a veritable feast of fruits, stalks, tubers, and crawlers. It would have been rude not to accept their generous gifts . . .

“Try this one!” Robin said, as he eagerly tried handing me a fat larva that was bigger than his fist, “they’re wood worms, and they’re the best!”

“Thank you Robin,” I said, hoping that my face didn’t look as green as I felt, “I’ll have Churtle cook it up for me . . .”

“What? No! Fire ruins them! You have to eat them raw. They’re so sweet and soft this way,” he said placing the massive larva in my hand, “I got you the biggest one I could find. It was a lot of work because he’d dug himself in so deep but I managed to dig him out without breaking him. The bigger they are the better they taste!”

I glanced down at my guide. Those large eager expectant eyes looked up at me filled with hope and joy, and then to that horrible disgusting wriggling worm and I just knew I was going to have to come up with a wonderfully inventive lie.

‘This ought to be good,’ Hop-Toy said as he climbed out of my pocket, his transformation was complete now, and in the morning sun his skin seemed to glisten with all the colors of the rainbow. His arms were now almost humanoid in appearance, his biceps having grown to twice their previous length, and his webbed paws now looked more like hands. His eyes had grown in size as well, perhaps as much as a twenty five percent larger, and they seemed to swirl with an inner light in an almost hypnotic pattern. Despite these amazing changes he didn’t look at all unnatural, strange and exotic sure, but not necessarily unnatural . . . his alternate form on the other hand . . . Hop-Toy could now seemingly turn himself inside out, becoming a mass of tentacles and organs, it was unsettling at best, and it should have been especially terrifying to me, as Hop-Toy is an aspect of my being, and now a physical representation of the far realms corrosive influence on my psyche. But it didn’t bother me. I thought Hop-Toy’s new look was fascinating.

“Are you going to help me think up a lie?” I asked him in abyssal.

‘Nope,’ he said, ‘you’re always hiding your true feelings, worried about the feelings of others over those of your own, and I’m not going to be party to that. Do try to enjoy your worm though.’

He wasn’t talking about the Robin and worm and I knew it. I didn’t want to talk about that subject anymore, I’d forbid him from even mentioning it, but he was far smarter than was healthy for him these days, and he was able to find parallels to act as parables in my everyday life. It was annoying. I’d hoped that the jungle and all this dangerous preparation would let me forget about my problems for a while. Thankfully Churtle came to my aid.

“Hey Boss!” Churtle chirped behind me, “I didn’t slaves over a hot stove so you coulds ruin your appetite! You can eats it, maybe, after I gets the porridge ready.”

I turned and Churtle took the disgusting thing out of my hand. “You is always eating things you shouldn’t. You should eat healthy foods more. Maybes if you eats all your porridge you can have it fors desert.

“Too many sweets isn’t good for her,” Churtle said confidentially to Robin as she stepped close to the clever Phanaton, “and if we makes the village tonight there’s sure to be more sweets . . .”

Robin nodded. There was a very serious look in his eyes, “our shaman is always telling us that belly aches are caused by bad eating. Too much of one type of food, not enough of another, eating spoiled foods. These things are bad for you. You should listen to your kobold friend.”

“And the worst part is,” Churtle said, “she’s a human, a wizard, and a noble. They is very hard to cooks for because there is so much that they can’t eat because it makes them sick.”

“I didn’t know,” Robin said, looking me over with concern, “guess I should be careful what I feed her huh?”

“Let’s mes see it first,” Churtle said glancing up at me, “she bes very smart, but she puts almost anything smaller then her fist in her mouth.”

“Thank you Churtle,” I said in draconic after Robin had left, I wasn’t exactly pleased with Churtle making me out to be an idiot woman child that couldn’t feed herself properly, but I was happy for the results, “I really didn’t want to eat that . . .”

“So kays,” Churtle said with an enigmatic little smile, “I know the boss not like a lot of things . . .”

Churtle quickly turned and went back into the cabin (which was serving as her kitchen). I couldn’t help noting that she carefully carried the wood worm with her, and, as she turned to leave I could have swore she mumbled something like ‘that’s why I grinds things up . . .’

We ate breakfast before another day of trudging through the jungle. Churtle’s cooking was excellent as usual, but I couldn’t help but be suspicious of the taste, was the porridge slightly sweeter then before? I churned the oatmeal with my spoon searching for unidentifiable parts. Much of what the phanatons had foraged Churtle had sliced up and remained on the side to add at our leisure, namely the fruit, stalks, and the roots, but Churtle had also fried up some of the bugs to crispy perfection, and I wasn’t the only one brave enough to sprinkle a bit of fried insect onto my porridge. It added some refreshing crunch and flavor, quite enjoyable really . . . if you could forget what you were eating.

After breakfast I managed to find Fredrick alone. It had been nearly a week sense he had put the mysterious tooth in his head and I wanted to know if there were any side effects.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him, “any side effects? Any unusual urges? You haven’t acquired a taste for human blood or anything, have you?”

Fredrick glanced around, clearly not comfortable talking about this subject in front of others, “No, I’m fine,” he quickly answered.

“Nothing unusual?” I asked, pressing the matter.

“Nothing,” he quickly answered.

“Can I see it?” I asked. I wanted to see if his body was changing in any way as a result of adding the tooth, it had clearly taken to his mouth as we occasionally saw it peeking out from under his lip, but I wanted to see how it had set into his mouth. I still didn’t know very much about this tooth and I was hoping for some clues to fuel my research.

“My my,” Fredrick said, as he reached for his belt, “you’re getting quite bold, well I suppose a quick peek wouldn’t hurt . . .”

He started unbuckling his pants, obviously trying to take the ‘can I see it?’ question out of context, “Great,” I said, pulling out my artificer’s monocle, “after you’ve showed me that I can have a look at your tooth . . .”

This wasn’t the reaction he was looking for. Most ladies might squeal and run at the thought of a man exposing himself to her, but I was an educated woman, and I’d taken some anatomy classes. I was very much aware that, for the most part, a man’s sexual organs were no big deal. Holding my monocle up to examine his privates probably didn’t help boost his ego any either. Still, Fredrick was not one to back down, and for a moment I thought he might actually drop his pants to save face, but thankfully he probably came to the conclusion that exposing himself to a seventeen year old girl wasn’t in anyone’s best interests.

“You want to see the tooth,” he said, “fine make it quick.”

Fredrick opened his mouth. I was horrified. Sometimes magic items can cause deformities, or so I’d read, but I wasn’t expecting this!

“Wee Jas!” I gasped, “Fredrick your mouth has gone black!”

“Really?” Fredrick said, he was missing some of the shock to go with it, and I suspected that he already knew. He did care about his looks a great deal, and I suspect he owns a mirror, which meant that he had to have known about the change and had decided not to share with anyone . . . for some reason.

“When did this happen?” I asked, looking him square in the eye. I didn’t want any more lies!

“About a day after I put the tooth in,” he eventually said. I thought he might be telling the truth.

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“No,” he said, “I feel fine!”

“Look,” I said glaring at him, “I want you to tell me if you start to feel anything odd, and I mean anything. We need to be sure that that thing isn’t going to affect you in some strange way. Some of these items are secretly controlled by strange evil powers. I don’t want something evil taking you over.”

“Tristan,” Fredrick finally said, “I feel fine. If anything changes you’re the first person I’ll tell alright?”

“Fine, fine,” I said backing away, the man was getting irritated, “just remember we’re your friends.”

I was almost certain that he wasn’t telling me the whole truth, he was defensive from the beginning and I felt he was holding something back, but if I pressed the mater now I’d get nothing. Perhaps he might feel like talking about this later. Besides, I needed to research the tooth more, and now I had a rather large lead. I’d talk with Fredrick when I knew more.

We had another long day of walking ahead of us, although when I say ‘we’ I don’t mean me specifically, because now that I could fly I hardly walked anywhere. With my boots of levitation the only reason for me to land these days was to eat, sleep, and to do the unmentionables, the rest of the time I was flying in the air. Not that flying was less work: to control yourself in the air you needed flex and move your body in ways that you didn’t on the ground. I was using muscles I didn’t even know I had. After my first day of flying I was sore all over, some of the stiffness persists today, but the thrill and the feeling of flying was worth the strains. In a few days my body will be trained to the new locomotion, and given time, I’m sure I’ll be as comfortable in the air as I ever was on the ground.

As for the journey itself I have nothing more to report. With the exception of the destination our hike through the jungle was pretty much the same as it was today. I’m still amazed at the agility and grace of the phanaton. They could climb and glide through the trees with such ease. This was why transporting the clay jars of tar was so dangerous for them: in the jungle canopy almost nothing could catch them, but on the ground, waddling around with those heavy clay pots, they were extremely vulnerable. Thankfully, save for bugs and leeches, nothing attacked us.

We walked through lunch, sharing leftovers from breakfast – and not surprisingly there were plenty of bugs left, and we made it to the Phanaton village not long after that. Although I didn’t spot the village before it was pointed out to me I did detect signs of habitation before that . . . the jungle didn’t seem as dense here, there was still plenty of ferns and undergrowth, but no thick vines or twigs everywhere. There were strange calls from the trees overhead. Our guides excitedly answered back and soon the place seemed to be swarming with phanatons, I’m not sure exactly what was said, but soon hoards of phanatons were bubbling all over us (as they had in our initial meeting). This time there were hundreds of them.

The Phanatons led us back to their village. I saw it once Robin pointed it out to me; it sat high in the trees, made up of dozens of platforms as well as many, many individual tree houses. They were scarcely noticeable because of some kind of camouflage. There was no fixed way up into the village, the phanatons themselves got back up by climbing the trees or scampering up ropes and vines that were lowered for them from high above. Thankfully there were a few platforms used for raising supplies from the forest floor and my companions were lifted up to the village on those. I carried Kiki and Churtle up myself. The platforms were slow and I was restless. I had each of them up in no time, as I wasn’t quite strong enough to carry both at once (mainly because Churtle weighs a lot more then she looks she should). No sooner did we land then the phanatons, many of them children, were swarming all around us. We were instantly bombarded with questions.

My companions were eventually winched up and were greeted by throngs of excited villagers. The celebrations began almost immediately. No doubt the tale of our battle with Temauhti-tecuani had spread throughout the village. Small wooden cups were handed out with powerful alcohol mixed some kind of sweet fruit juice and water. It was quite refreshing after such a long hike but I could feel the alcohol going straight to my head. To make matters worse I scarcely had a sip before our overly gracious hosts were falling all over themselves to refill my glass. I knew it would be rude to refuse such kindness. This was going to be a long afternoon.

Eventually we were able to meet with the village elders. They were anxious to talk with us and hear our stories. I let Fredrick do most of the talking, my cheeks were already feeling a bit flush, and I worried that I might stumble over my words a bit. He was able to keep a clear head long enough to secure the aid we needed for Farshore, not that it was particularly difficult, the phanatons were half drunk and hopped up with the tale of Temauhti-tecuani’s defeat. No sooner did Fredrick make the request then the phanatons were cheering for a deal. The village elders did make a show of discussing the issue amongst themselves but they seemed almost as excited as everyone else and with the drinks still flowing freely, it wasn’t long before they made up their minds. I only hoped that the others were responsible in their drinking, alcohol and heights don’t mix well, and I didn’t want to see anyone stumbling over the side. The jungle floor was a long ways down . . .

A feast was prepared. Bugs were on the menu again, of course with so much alcohol in us very few of us really cared, and with everyone in such a jovial mood the drinking marathon showed no sign of slowing down! Death or blindness was a real possibility. Thankfully as the sun began to set there was some respite. Drinking after dark, it seems, was frowned upon. The phanatons had good eyes, even in starlight, but many jungle predators came out at night and nighttime was when everyone needed to stay alert. Drinks were still offered to the guests but thankfully less frequently now and our hosts were willing to accept even a slight rebuff without seeming insulted.

The elders spoke of the jungle, their history, and of the dangerous monsters that stalk the land. I asked them about the rakastas, Lavinia knew of them only in legend, and the omans knew of them only in passing, but the phanatons, it was said, actually traded with them. Thankfully this information proved to be good. The phanatons did know of the rakastas, even where their village was, but we couldn’t convince anyone to lead us there because the phanatons were convinced that whatever great evil destroy the rakastas still lingered. They did give us very precise directions . . . and Fredrick was certain that he could find the place . . . eventually. The Phanatons were also generally nervous of the central plateau. It was a sentiment that was echoed by the omans. Sooner or later, I felt, we’d need to travel there and deal with whatever lurked up there to keep the island safe.

As darkness fell I shared some of our stories with the locals. I used my magic and cantrips to enhance the story, floating high over the gathering with my boots of levitation, and using prestidigitation to add lights and sounds. Some seemed absolutely enthralled with my stories, others seemed more expressed with the magic, but all wanted more by the time I was finished. I was tired though, and I needed my sleep, tomorrow I’d need to travel back to Farshore and report our progress, and most importantly, to tell them that we had secured the tar pits. Tar was desperately needed, not only for Fareshore, but also for repairing the Sea Wyvern. We’d need that loaded onto the Blue Nixie before we sailed it up to the reef where our ship lay.

Tomorrow I return to Farshore,
Cthulhu Dreams.

_______
“Wake up,” that strange voice commanded me, “Tristan . . .”

“What do you want?” I mumbled into my pillow.

“I have a name you know,” the damn ape head scolded, as if I could forget, “but our lessons will not continue tonight. I have but a single task for tonight.”

“It seems like every night . . .”

“Every other night,” Chimpman corrected, “I’m actually running on a forty eight hour cycle, I’m still not completely sure how long a human lifespan is or how much knowledge you can retain, but I figure at this rate I’ll have explained all I need to tell you in sixty three years. Humans live for eighty years right?”

“Some do . . .”

“Alright, then I’d also ask that you try to live at least that long, too bad you spend a third of that time asleep, but you’ll need to wake now and go for a walk.”

“Why?” I asked. What had once been a novelty was now a minor nuisance, being ‘pulled out of the time stream’ as he put it, had been fascinating the first time, but afterwards I noticed my sleep had been horrible. I found myself tired now. Not physically, my body seemed fine, but mentally I couldn’t seem to get it together after these strange visits. My mind seemed to drift, not just because of the information the talking head was spilling, but I felt as though my brain lingered ‘out of time’ sometimes. I felt I was on the edge of something . . . I couldn’t put my finger on it though.

“Just wake up,” he said, “and get me out of this sack! It’s dark in here.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed and pulled the stupid severed head out.

“Why is it,” I asked, “you never talk or even move in regular time?”

“Some of the things I’ve told you could drive lesser minds over the edge, some of your friends simply couldn’t handle the sight of me, and of course, I can’t really project myself across worlds like this for any length of time. So in the second or two that I can achieve contact I simply pull you out of time so we have all the time we need to have a discussion. Mind you, should you ever reach a friendlier plane I could project myself for a longer period.”

“Alright,” I said carrying the thing outside of my cabin, “where are we going?”

“Just find somewhere you can see the sky.”

I took flight, soon clearing the trees, and finding myself beneath that black and silver canopy. I would have activated my boots at this point, but I suddenly realized that I’d left them beside my bed, and then I realized that I’d also neglected to put on a dress . . . here I was flying over the savage jungle wearing nothing more than a thin shift . . . the thing scarcely reached mid thigh . . .

“Oh please,” Chimpman muttered, “anything that exists in out time is not going to be interested in human women. I want you to locate the moons, note that they’re full? Now look to the western sky and see if you can spy an orange colored dot. Can you see it?”

“yes,” I said squinting, the dot looked like star, but I knew that it moved completely unlike the other stars in the sky. Some astronomers believed it to be another planet.

“Good, one last thing, a gateway between worlds, between planes, and even universes is possible when certain things are lined up. If that dot had sat directly over the two moons a gateway, without a focus, might have been opened to the abyss. Also, you should know that when such an alignment happens, beings from that plane can also sometimes reach across and effect things in your world. You needn’t worry though, such things almost never happen, and even if you live for another eighty years after I’ve finished teaching you there’s no chance of such an alignment in that span.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“No reason. Time to return.”

“This happened a long time ago didn’t it?”

“A long time by your standards, yes.”

“Is that what happened to the oman civilization?”

“That’s complicated,” the ape said, “if you invite a cat into your home and it knocks over a candle that burns down your home, who is responsible? You or the candle?”

“What about the cat?”

“Cats are stupid, you couldn’t blame something that was lacking intent could you? However you were the one to allow the cat in and it was the destructive force of the candle that destroyed everything. Those are the two culprits.”

“Why couldn’t I blame the cat?” I asked, “by that logic I’d be the only one to blame then because I lit the candle. You can’t blame an inanimate object for such a disaster . . .”

“Interesting,” was all he said.

I got nothing more out of him after that.

Disaster nearly struck today, yet tonight we’re all alive and well, and we have potentially made some new allies.

Again Fredrick’s estimations were almost exactly precise as we arrived outside of the tar pits about an hour before lunch and quickly scanned the area for our prey. I knew Temauhti-tecuani was truly a ferocious predator from the warnings from the oman villagers, and from Larissa’s journal. Still, we figured, we’d slain one of these beasts before, how much tougher might another one be?

The thing I hadn’t taken into account was that the tar pits proved to be a massive area. You wouldn’t think that a dinosaur could hide anywhere, but there was jungle surrounding those boiling bitumen bogs, jagged rocks, and thick greasy clouds of toxic smelling smoke. The best we could hope to do was patrol the area and hope to stumble across the feral lizard. Had I the ability to fly for any length of time I’d have hunted the damn beast myself and destroyed him with my magic, but because we were on foot, and because this was a tar pit with plenty of places for someone to slip and sink into we wisely decided to stick together.

“This monster is capable of swallowing someone whole,” I warned the others, “let’s try to take it out with missile fire while I summon up something big and meaty to stand in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Kiki said. The young halfling relied almost exclusively on her crossbow as of late. I wasn’t sure why, it certainly wasn’t a quick or (in my experience) a particularly reliable weapon, but I guess you didn’t need to get up close to anyone to use it, and that meant you were normally out of any direct danger. She’d certainly gotten good with the practice. Kiki could even shoot a target though a mass of people with ease, which she’d done on a couple of occasions now (much to our horror). This was a feat I wouldn’t even try with my magic. Kiki could also fire twice as fast as I could, easily as fast as someone with a bow, and far, far quicker then James or Orlani’s could with their pistols.

Everyone was in agreement on the plan. Not that it was radical or extrodanry, everyone remembered Kale nearly being devoured alive, and nobody wanted a repeat performance. It was common sense I suppose . . . but there’s a saying about the best laid plans . . .

The first sign of trouble was actually a chorus of high pitched screams. They were almost animal, shrieks of pure terror, but there were some notable variations in the voices that made it sound almost like a language. The voices were far, far closer than we would have liked, almost directly on top of us, and if it hadn’t been for the smog we would have been surprised exactly how close we had inadvertently wondered to our suddenly distressed fury neighbors.

Our eyes were immediately drawn to the source of the sound and, amazingly, the wind seemed to cooperate with our curious eyes as it blew off the oily white smoke like curtains. There, no more than ten fathoms away, was a large group of (what I initially thought were) small terrified lemurs . . . their large expressive eyes wide with fear. Our eyes darted to the source of their terror. A monstrosity, bigger then three loaded wagons, was darting low to the ground from the nearby jungle! Seeing a monster that size move with such grace and speed was truly terrifying. We’d faced one of these beasts before. That encounter had given me misplaced confidence and a touch of false bravado, but now I saw that what we’d dealt with was a young male, and this, streaking towards us, was a powerful, cunning, and deadly hunter. This was Temauhti-tecuani. This was our target and already he was well within bow range and quickly closing.

I think I might have panicked. I used my ring to hide before summoning. Perhaps I should have started summoning immediately. It may not have made a difference, but as I play the scene over and over again in my mind, I wonder if things might have gone differently had I managed to summon something weighty earlier? I don’t think anything would have helped. The timing was bad. Kiki stepped forward and fired her crossbow. Temauhti-tecuani surged forward with a speed that none of us could have predicted . . . in an instant Kiki was gone.

There was panic and pandemonium. I instinctively summoned an orb of cold, I added every trick my mind could muster to it, and simultaneously Kale surged forward with his broad sword. The blows struck the mighty beast hard and he opened his mouth to share his anger. It was the most powerful and penetrating noise I’d ever heard. The ground shook, I felt my breastbone vibrating with the thunder, and lesser men and women might have emptied their bowls and would have been considered wise to have turned and fled. Not us though, I think I might have roared back as I summoned another orb. Our cleaver plan was gone by the wayside now, we all surged in to kill him . . . we all wanted blood. Buffy smashed away with her mace, Kale with his sword, James and Fredrick slashing and stabbing away.

In seconds Temauhti-tecuani was cut and leaking gore from over two dozen ragged wounds, great frozen blisters formed on his upper body, arrows rained down on him from our new found primate allies, but the great lizard still had fight left in him. His massive head darted down and he snatched Kale up in his mighty jaws . . .

That was it though. The beast shuttered and fell. Kale climbed out of its mouth bloody and bruised but somehow still alive. The primates continued to pepper the carcass with arrows well after the monster fell and stopped twitching. I dropped to my knees, slicing them on the sharp volcanic rock . . . I felt empty inside . . . my best friend . . .

Suddenly Buffy was screaming. I pulled myself to my feet. The priestess had found something and was running over to fetch it. I felt a strange surge of hope, and my eyes, already wet with tears, followed our priestess to a rough bloody patch of sod as my feet slowly began stumbling after. Buffy lifted a tiny blood soaked body from the turf. The skin was pale. The body was limp and lifeless. It almost looked like a porcelain doll. Buffy prayed to her god and color slowly returned to the tiny bodies’ limbs. It was Kiki, somehow she’d survived being torn to shreds by those massive teeth, and was likely expelled when the beast had blasted us with his voice.

Kiki’s eyes slowly opened, “What happened?” she asked.

I felt such joy and relief, I felt myself hugging and crying over Kiki in a heartbeat, “Tristan what’s wrong?” Kiki asked.

But there was no more time to be emotional. I saw the small creatures that we’d inadvertently saved gathering thirty feet or so away. Now that I could get a closer look at them I could identify them from Larissa’s journal: they were Phanatons. I wiped my eyes and released Kiki, theses were potential allies for Farshore, and thanks to Larissa’s journal I knew exactly how to address them!

“Greetings noble phanatons,” I said in sylvan, “I am Tristan Lidu and we’d like an audience with your tribe.”

The small creatures looked at me with blank stares. Was my sylvan that bad? I tried again:

“We are from the human lands to the south,” I said slowly, “you had a human stay at your village a few years ago. Do you remember Larissa Vanderboren?”

Again they looked at me with puzzled looks. They nervously talked amongst themselves in their own strange language.

“Do you understand elven?” I asked in elven, it was a language very similar to sylvan; it shared the same alphabet, and sylvan was likely the root language for the elven people. Again they looked at me with quizzical looks on their faces.

“Do you understand draconic?” I asked in the ancient mystic tongue. Draconic was the root language to most magic and if the small forest people had any spell casters amongst them it was possible that they understood the strange words. Again they looked at me with blank expressions.

“What about abyssal?” I asked, more on a whim then any real hope, and I wasn’t surprised when they didn’t respond.

“What about the Dwarven tongue?” I asked using the gruff sharp language, the creatures were getting confused now, and I was running out of options.

“What about the mother tongue?” I asked in ancient Suloise, the creatures chattered amongst themselves and looked about ready to leave.

“Do you understand Oman?” I asked in desperation, the small creatures almost all snapped round and looked up at me with understanding in their eyes.

“We know the language of the dark tall ones,” a particularly quick and sharp looking phanaton said stepping forward, “thank you for saving us from Temauhti-tecuani. We come in peace. Are you friend or foe?”

“I am Tristan Lidu,” I said, “and we come from a village far to the south. We mean you no harm and would like to speak to the leaders of your people.”

“Thank you Tristan for saving us,” the cleaver phanaton said again over the chorus of thanks from the others, “we must take you back to our village so you can tell the tale of the slaying of Temauhti-tecuani!”

This brought cheers from the group of phanatons, they somehow seemed immediately convinced that we were safe and friendly. Then came the questions:
“is your friend alright?”
“Where are you from?”
“How tall are you?”
“Was that magic?”
“What sort of your hat are you wearing?
“Why are you wearing clothes?”
“Why are two of you normal size and the rest of you so big?”
“What do you have in your backpack?”

The hoard of phanatons surged forward while asking their questions, most didn’t even seem interested in hearing answers, and soon they were swarming all over us, and I mean quite literally swarming all over us. One was on my lap, another on my back and in my hair, and another two or three were at my sides. My companions were all getting the same treatment. There was a regular chorus of “what’s that, what’s that for” and “can I have this?”

They had a bad habit of looking with their fingers, which was very annoying and disconcerting, but when they were done and we were all sorted we were happy to find that they didn’t actually steal anything. Thankfully once they figured out that Fredrick also spoke their language it took some of the pressure off of me.

“You should come to our village,” the cleaver one said, when they were finished greeting us, “we’re taking the tar back home with us. You should come with us.”

“That would be fine,” I said to the Phanaton, “but what is your name? I’d like to talk to you some more but I’ll need to call you something.”

The phanatons laughed with glee at my request for some reason. I wondered if I’d made some sort of social blunder.

“There is no exact translation for my name, in your words I would be called ‘bird with red belly that dances and sings, but hides from the predators,’ the Oman don’t have a name for this bird. It is very rare, and it was only chance that one was seen on the day I was born. It’s not as beautiful as the rainbow jungle birds, its back is dark and grey, but I think it is a lucky creature with a handsome small yellow beak. ”

“I think that’s a robin,” I said to smart creature, “they’re rare where I live as well, but very common to the north. I think I’ll call you Robin if you don’t mind. It is a very pretty bird with a beautiful song voice.”

“Very well,” said the newly minted creature, “from now on in the human lands I will be known as Robin. Now let’s all go back to our village.”

The phantatons quickly finished loading up the jugs with tar and the entire lot of us set off for the phanaton village. The journey, as it turns out, was going to be at least three days overland. Perhaps more if the land and its creatures weren’t going to cooperate with us. The questions started up again the moment we started walking. It was going to be a long three days.

Kiki seemed fine, she was very tired throughout the rest of the day, but amazingly she seemed none the worse for wear. Most of the cuts had come from the volcanic rock she’d been tossed and rolled across. She’d somehow missed the teeth completely which was good because those teeth were as big as her and would have cut her in half in an instant. If she had been in poor spirits she certainly didn’t show it, and she quickly took to the phanatons, and they to her, even though none of them spoke the same language.

Kale was spared the worsted as well. Although he’d been in danger of being bitten in half, he’d somehow had the wherewithal to wedge his sword between jawbone and tooth, and although he still ended up with great gashes in his leg and side he was still in relatively good shape afterwards. After he’s been healed Kale set about cutting the head off the dinosaur while our new fury friends set about collecting their tar, but the job proved to be too much even with the Fredrick and James. The head alone was about the size of a carriage and it took James and Kale together to lift the darn thing. There was talk about me teleporting them back to Farshore with their new prize but I kyboshed that idea quickly. Although I’d been sure to prepare for a quick escape, I’s only prepared the one spell, and so while I could get us back to Farshore I wouldn’t be able to get us back again today. We had no idea where the phanaton village was, and we couldn’t afford leaving the phanatons for fear of never coming across them again. Thankfully Churtle had a suitable idea:

“Why nots sinks it in the tar?” she asked the three blood soaked men, “you wants the skull right? The tar will preserve it for when we gots time!”

“Not a bad idea,” James said, but Kale still looked slightly petered.

‘you get a crown, he wants a crown,’ Hop-toy croaked, ‘you get a severed head, he wants a bigger severed head . . .’

“And,” Churtle was continuing, “after ninety days meat is just right . . .”

“Wait,” Fredrick coughed, “you’d eat that after it’s been in there to rot?!”

“You don’t eats the skin,” Churtle said rolling her eyes, “and all poison and bad belly gas is gone out of the meat. The meat is smooth and melts in your mouth. Almost like paste.”

Not surprisingly there were few takers on Churtle’s rotten meat recipe. The Boys did sink the head into the tar with sturdy piece of rope coiled around it but I wonder when we’ll be back again to collect our prize?

After a long day’s hike I summoned my house and we camped down for the night away from the phanaton’s incessant questioning. Tomorrow will bring another day of hiking.

Enough with the questions,
Cthulhu dreams

I didn’t need to look to know who we were missing but Amella did a quick scan before growling “Avner . . .” He and his two servants had yet to arrive.

“He’ll probably be an hour or so,” I said to Amella, “nobles like to show up fashionably late.”

“Bloody n . . .” Amella said, catching herself.

“Nobles?” I finished. Amella scowled. “Yes we are a pretentious lot – some worse then others. It’s how we were taught to behave. We’re all about pomp and circumstance but we’re hardly the only class or occupation with it’s idiosyncrasies. I also fancy myself a scholar; we tend to bandy about large and possibly obscure words to make ourselves sound smart. But again it’s all pageantry, some of us are no smarter then your average street thug. The main difference is the vocabulary. We can talk for hours without resorting to obscenities! We act according to the roll we are expected to fill. That’s one of the reasons you’ll find the crew to be an ill-tempered uncouth lot, that doesn’t mean that they’re all filthy uneducated savages, it just means that’s the rolls and stereotypes that they’ve come to expect and try to fill. Really, the secret to understanding people is getting past all that.”

“I’m sorry,” Amella said after a few moments, “were you saying something?”

“Oh I was just agreeing with you,” I said with a sigh, “Bloody nobles!”

From the Lidu Diaries:

Amella Venkalie looked like a woman destined for great things. Even though she was dressed in men’s clothing, and her face was marred with a thick scar under her right eye, she was clearly an attractive woman. She carried herself with poise and confidence. Her cold calculating eyes roamed the room and seemed to measure and judge everything they fell upon. Lavinia had selected her as a possible first mate, but according to what I had heard, her experience and knowledge of the sea probably surpassed that of Buffy or myself. I imagine that her knowledge surpassed even that of James. She would make a fine captain, but, for the time being, I would fill that roll. Her eyes eventually fell on us and I knew immediately what she was thinking “they’re young!” James, at the ripe old age of twenty two, was our eldest.

“Greeting Amella,” James said as she walked over to our table, “Please have a seat. Let me introduce everyone, I’m James, this is Buffy, Kiki, and Kale, and that,” he said pointing to me, “is Captain Tristan Lidu.”

“How old are you,” She immediately asked me.

“Slightly younger then Captain Rothschild the far seer when he took command of his first ship,” I said, displaying my knowledge of navel history. “But old enough to understand that being captain doesn’t automatically earn you respect, I’m old enough to respect the fact that I don’t know everything, and I’m old enough to listen to the advice and opinions of others.”

“What experience do you have?” she asked.

“Sailing? Little. That’s why we need an experienced first mate.” I said quickly, “Lavinia tells us that you have quite a bit of experience in that regard. Please tell us about it.”

“Well,” she said, sounding a bit more at ease, “my late husband and I had a small freight service not far from here. Only one ship but with the right cargo it was lucrative enough. I’ve spent almost twenty years on the sea, and a good number of those were working as me husband’s right. I know the sea (or as well as she’s willing to be known) and I know how to run a ship. You’ll not find another first mate of my experience without a ship anywhere in Sasserine. The devil take me if I’m lying. I’ll take the job, only because I need the work, but I don’t tolerate incompetence or fools. I’ll give you some leeway because you’re young, but the sea is no place to be playing, and if I feel you’re not up to the task I’ll take my leave at the first friendly port. Acceptiable?”

“Yes,” I said, shaking her hand, “Let’s draw up some papers.” It wasn’t until Amella left that I realized that it had been her conducting the interview and not the other way around.

The heat of those accursed volcanoes didn’t abate during the night. For a time I was relatively certain that I was going to die. I kicked off my covers and cloths and fanned myself against the heat with an old scroll page which I’d folded into a fan. Thankfully the darkness and Lavinia’s sheet (which I’ve often used as a cape) shielded my modesty from the men.

In the morning we were thankfully finally able to leave that cursed fissure. I never thought the sweaty jungle air would be a relief, but compared to the oven like volcanic heat, I felt like it was the rainy season back in Sasserine. Our journey back to the village wasn’t quite as favorable as our journey to the temple. It was nearly dark by the time we walked back to into the Oman village. I felt better once we had hit the water, the ocean breeze was quite refreshing, and by the time we returned I felt my old self again.

There was a celebration for us, nothing too elaborate, but the people of the village we happy to show their thanks. There was plenty of strange food and drink, served only on special occasions our hosts assured us, and although some of our group eyed it suspiciously, I happily gobbled down the strange fare (after I was sure it wasn’t poisoned). Some of it was organ meat, of that much I am certain, but there were also many strange tubers, fruits, and vegetables, and many preserved foods that were salty, vinegary, or even sweet tasting. There was strong drink as well, along with dance and music, but I found it was mainly the men taking part and so I found a quite part of the village to update my journal . . . last night, after the heat of the volcano, I didn’t feel much like writing. Even now I can feel the heats effects on my body but I think I’ll sleep well tonight.

When much of the excitement had died down I rejoined the other. Fredrick showed me the tooth he’d collected as a prize from Zotzilaha, I got the sense that he wanted me to tell him more about it, but sadly there was little I could tell him . . . even with the magical monocle that Blenak had sold me on my last visit to Sasserine. I felt that it was somehow familiar to me though, like something I’d read or heard in a lecture years ago, but I just couldn’t grasp at.

“You know,” I said to Fredrick, “some of these items are only useful when they’re attached to your body. There are some truly horrible items, the hand and eye of Vecna for example, but I guess some people think the incredible power is worth the sacrifice of their humanity and sanity. This tooth looks like it could fit into someone’s mouth . . . maybe you could sell it to someone who’s willing to try that?”

Fredrick nodded and left with a strange look in his eye. For a moment I wondered what he might be up too, but then it occurred to me that he couldn’t possibly be thinking what I thought he might be thinking. The man cared about his looks far too much for that . . .

I didn’t have much time to ponder the possibilities, shortly after my discussion with Fredrick I found the chief and her wise women joining me, and we had much business to discuss.

“Tell me Tristan Lidu,” the chief said, “are you married?”

“Me?” I laughed, “heavens no! Nor do I think I will even marry . . .”

“We were unsure,” one of the wise woman said, “we thought that perhaps one of the men you were traveling with . . .”

“No,” I said quite quickly, “they are friends and companions nothing more.”

“Ah,” said the chief looking to my companions, perhaps sizing them up for potential marriage.

“They’re all pretty much available,” I said, “except for James, the one with the pink swords, so if you’d . . .”

“And what of you Tristan Lidu?” The chief said turning back to me, “did any of the men catch your eye?”

Surprise must have been written on my face because many of the aged women seemed to have a chuckle at my reaction. I stammered for a polite response but thankfully the chief held up her hands signaling that I didn’t need to reply.

“A marriage of your tribe with mine would be a great event but not something that is necessary for there to be peace between our people. You are still young Tristan Lidu, and a woman with much strength and resilience, but there is wisdom that comes with child birth and motherhood. I think this is something that you could use. This is something we can discuss later though; we must talk of this threat to Farshore, and what we can do to help. You aided us when we needed and now we must help your people as well.”

“You needn’t feel obligated,” I said, “we helped you because it was the right thing to do, but you might not want to risk your lives for . . .”

“Strife and hardship either brings neighbors together,” the chief nodded, “or it drives them apart. We will send supplies and warriors.”

“If we don’t stop these monsters they may head north,” I warned them.

“Let them,” the chief nodded, “most of our villages are off the shore, they need to come inland, and the longer they stay in our waters the greater the chance of meeting Baaragrauth, the great eel. He would teach them respect and fear.”

“But . . .”

“We have other questions Tristan Lidu,” one of the wise women said, “Have you experienced any strange dreams while on the island?”

My mouth went dry. “Why do you ask?” I gasped.

“There are stories and legends,” the woman said, “they speak of a time of trouble, and of outsiders who break the great curse on our people and this island. There are signs that this time may be at hand. The stars seem right. Some of your friends match the people from our prophecies, in stature if not completely in deeds, and even you seem to resemble the dream haunted traveler. We’ve been watching you, and you clearly hear voices, but do you see things in your dreams?”

“I don’t think I hear voices, but I do have dreams . . .” I said slowly, “but so does everyone. I seriously doubt that we’re heroes from your legends.”

“What do you dream about?”

“That’s personal,” I said, the last thing I needed was someone telling me I was crazy because of my dreams, “I’m sorry but I’m not going to share my dreams . . .”

“Have you had any visions?” another of the wise woman asked.

“What’s the difference?” I asked.

“You’d know the difference,” the woman said.

“Those that travel to the temple of Zotzilaha and sleep at the gate sometimes are visited by visions,” the chief said (although I imagine that what they were talking about I would call hallucinations brought on by heat stroke), “did you have any visions yesterday?”

“I didn’t sleep yesterday,” I said, “no dreams, no visions, absolutely nothing unusual.”

“We’ll see,” said another of the wise women, “we’ll see. I still say that it is too soon to tell.”

“We have another request,” I said seeing the lull in the conversation, and anxious to change the subject, “and I thought I should ask while we have some time. We need tar from the tar pits to the northwest, more then you could transport by hand, and I was hoping that we could transport by cart through your territories . . .”

“This is not a problem . . .” one of the wise women said as she turned to the chief.

“But our warriors report that Temauhti-tecuani has moved into the area,” the chief said, “and with him hunting the tar pits even our own warriors are nervous to gather supplies there.”

“Temauhti-tecuani?” I asked, trying to remember the tales of the infamous seven, “He’s the dinosaur right?”

“Dinosaur?” I heard the women around me ask.

“He is the lizard that walks on two legs,” the chief said, “the savage hunter, the oldest of his kind . . .”

“He has one hand and one eye . . .”

“He runs faster than a man and eats more than a village . . .”

“He . . .”

“He’s dead then,” I finally cut in, “if we need to kill him to secure the tar pits then he’s placed himself between us and our goals . . . and that’s a very dangerous place to be these days. He’s clearly outlived his welcome and I intend to free up those tar pits for Farshore and the seven villages.”

“Be careful Tristan Lidu,” the Chief said, “he may be no more than a beast, but he is still dangerous and incredibly powerful. He may be the death of you and your companions yet.”

“Not me,” I said holding up my ring for the wise women to see, “I’ve received a gift from Zotzilaha and I’ve taken the boots from the master of the Fogmire. Temauhti-tecuani will neither see me nor will he be able to reach me. We’ll send word as soon as the great lizard is dead.”

“If your friends are in danger you may do something foolish to try to save them,” the chief warned.

“Nonsense,” I laughed, “you have me mistaken for a fool. I’m the most cautious woman I know.”

“If you say so Tristan Lidu,” the chief said with a raised eyebrow, “but I think it is likely that you don’t know very many women.”

‘What does she know?’ I asked myself later, ‘I’ve had a few reckless moments, but it’s not as though I’m going to charge some giant reptile, even if it was to rescue a friend. I had better sense than that.’

Here’s to no more dreams or visions,
Cthulhu dreams

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
What follows is a hastily written note attached to the previous entry:

_______

“Wake, Tristan Lidu, wake,” said a strange voice.

My eyes opened and I was suddenly wide awake. It wasn’t as though I’d just woken up either, I wasn’t groggy, I wasn’t tired, I was just suddenly completely and totally awake. I sat up in bed. The room was still. There was no sound. Not even the sound of breathing.

“I must be dreaming,” I muttered to myself. My nights had been relatively void of dreams after that series I suffered a little over two weeks back. Ever sense we’d dealt with those damn dirty apes my nights had been relatively peaceful, I still had the odd flash here and there, but nothing even remotely so vivid or as terrifying.

“You’re not dreaming Tristan,” the voice snapped, there was something vaguely familiar about it, enough so that the hairs on the back stood up, “if you were I’d be taller.”

I scanned the room. Kiki lay in the bed beside me . . . but she wasn’t moving. I gasped, she looked like a statue, yet when I touched her she felt soft and warm. At the end of the bed Hop-Toy sat in silent vigil. I picked him up and he flopped over in my hand. I felt panic building inside me.

“He’s not dead,” the voice reassured me, “nether are your friends. I’ve simply pulled us out of time for a few moments. When our conversation is finished I’ll return you to your time stream as though nothing happened.”

“Who are you?” I asked, trying to locate the source of the sound.

“Who? That implies I’m an entity of physical form or at least a being that would register on your level of comprehension . . .”

“Very well,” I said, climbing out of my bunk, the sound seemed to be coming from the floor somewhere, “what are you?”

“You must forgive me,” it said, “I’m still not completely familiar with your language, everything is light and sound to you, and I struggle for the words that your puny mortal brain might grasp. This isn’t a simple thing like teaching you to swim . . .”

“You’re the voice I heard in the water!” I knew the voice sounded familiar, “you saved my life!”

“Yes, then you promptly stopped hearing me again, as though panic or distress was the only frequency I could channel through.”

The voice seemed to be coming from my haversack of all places. I picked and held it to my ear. “You were in my head before. Now it sounds like the voice is coming from somewhere.”

“I’d thought that this island would present all sorts of opportunities, but no, you had to prove annoyingly strong and level headed.”

I could hear the voice emanating from inside, I’d have thought that the magic would muffle the sound, but at the time I didn’t really didn’t put too much thought into it . . . I began emptying my haversack.

“You’ve been trying to contact me?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, to no avail, both before and after your near death experience. I grew tired of trying and was forced to call in some favors.”

“What sort of favors?” I asked absent mindedly as I pulled out item after item from my haversack.

“I needed a focus, and I knew you weren’t going to stumble across one accidentally, so I needed someone to help me build one . . .”

“What sort of focus?” I asked as I pulled out the demon head . . . something caught my eye . . . like a twinkle, or a hint of movement . . . I turned the cursed thing around so I could see its face . . .

“Boo!” it said with a smirk.

I screamed! I flung the Bar-lguras head across the room as hard as I could. It seemed to laugh for the entire flight . . . then the laughter stopped as it thumped into the wall.

“Ow.” the voice said, “so this is what flesh creatures call pain. Strange, not at all what I’d have imagined, too bad . . .”

“I . . . we killed you,” I said standing and pointing an accusing finger at the severed head.

“Killed? Me? Don’t be so silly,” It said, seeming to roll under its own power to face me, “I’ve never been alive in any of your senses of the word, so how could you possibly kill me? No it was the demon you killed, his flesh was far more malleable to my desires, and once you consumed his flesh, so your body absorbed traces of his body, I was able to attune your body to my thoughts as well. Now I can use this head as a tool.”

“What are you?” I asked again.

“To you?” it asked, “to you I must seem a god! But I’m not parasitic. I don’t care for the plight of mortals or anything on your stupid mortal plane, I don’t accept prayers, and I certainly don’t care for the plight of souls that have shed their worthless mortal coils.”

“Then . . .”

“Yes, what do I want with you? It seems silly really, you’re one of the few capable of drawing from the far realms, if that’s a flaw or a gift is perhaps a matter for debate . . .”

“You’re from the far realm?”

“How you manage to exist thus far is truly a marvel,” it muttered, “no, I’m not from the far realm. If I were why wouldn’t I simply transport myself to your world?”

“Because . . .” I couldn’t really think up a suitable answer, “maybe my world is deadly to you?”

“Rather the other way around,” it said raising an eyebrow, “so although I don’t care for your plane of existence, I’d still rather not crush it, or you specifically, with my being.”

“Then . . .”

“Imagine each and every star you see in the sky is a world,” the head talking head began.

“Yes, yes, I’ve thought of that concept . . .”

“Then imagine that all those worlds, plus your own, from far enough away looks like a small glowing dot, much like a hundred bon fires in the night might look from miles away . . .”

“But . . .”

“Now imagine that there are many more glowing dots, perhaps as many as there are grains of sand or stars in the sky, and if you were able to do this you might be able to master the concept of the universe. That’s the easy part. On top of all this you must imagine multiple universes, none of which are directly connected to your own, and if you were able to somehow able to reach another universe you’d simply be popped out of existence in a quick and violent reaction. So what keeps these universes together? This is where the planes come in, every world, in every universe in all of existence is connected to another plane of existence . . . but not necessarily every plane is connected to your particular world. So if you could imagine every point of light connected to multiple threads, which in turn connect to other worlds, and in this way they connect the entire universe . . . you with me so far?”

“So you come from another universe?”

“No,” it said without skipping a beat, “pay attention, a couple of these threads are loose, so to speak, and they float and flutter in the breeze of existence, and occasionally, and thankfully only occasionally, one of these threads touches a thread from another universe. This usually brings catastrophic doom and destruction, such as when a certain elder god reached across this gap and touched your universe, but thankfully such occurrences are rare by my standards, and completely nonexistent by yours . . .”

“But dread Cthulhu . . .”

“Not in the time of man, or at least what you call man. That event happened before even the birth of the Tanar’ri, before the rise of your gods, and the tale was passed down from one now extinct race to another now extinct race. Your stories (thankfully) don’t come from any living memories. Now where was I? Yes, that is the basis of your entire existence, nothing more exists for mortal flesh creatures such as your self . . .”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m nearly there! Learn some patience. So as I was saying some of these threads hang loose and sort swaying. Some even dangle outside of the boundaries of the universes they are linked too. The dimension you know as the far realms is one such thread, it is very loose indeed, and it flutters dangerously close to many of these other universes. As a result many of the entities you find in the far realms are more like the beings found in other universes. That is to say that those of us that exist in the furthest reaches, the areas that are actually closer to another universe then they are to your own, are quite strange and even toxic to your world. My natural form would shatter what little remains of your mind . . .”

“But you just said that you weren’t from the far realms!” I snapped.

“I’m not,” it said, its eyes glaring at me, “these constant interruptions actually slow the discussion down. If you’d learn to sit and listen you’d speed things along . . .”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“S’all right,” the head said, “I’m effectively immortal, and so I have all the time in the universe . . .”

“Well I don’t,” I snapped, “unless that’s a quality of whatever time pocket you’ve pulled me too, so please continue.”

“The far realms are also extremely chaotic and messy. As they travel and wind through the void they leave residuals, shadows, or imprints in the vast nothingness. I come from a pocket dimension that was once part of the far realms of this universe, yet a pocket that floats dangerously close to another universe. For this reason I’m neither part of this universe nor part of another. I cannot enter into your world without causing irrevocable harm and yet if I don’t take some action my world will be destroyed when it’s inevitably sucked into another universe.”

“So you want my help?”

“Yes,” the thing said, “in a manner of speaking I suppose that’s the case. You see I don’t follow along the same timeline as you, in my world certain events have already occurred, and . . .”

Suddenly something occurred to me: “you’re working with the rhyming girl!”

“What? The rhyming girl?” it said with a puzzled look on its face, then something occurred to it, “Oh wait,” it said with a laugh, “yes! Yes I suppose I am. Funny you, at the ripe old age of seventeen, should call her a ‘girl’ thought! She needed to convince you to eat this things brain didn’t she?”

“She said that I was her,” I muttered.

“Well that is true in some ways, perhaps not intellectually, physically, or even personality wise,” the head said with a condescending roll of its eyes, “but I understand you both share the same soul or something. She chooses to look like you I think, she even has the same habit of cutting people off, but she’s usually right . . . and is far more interesting and pleasant to be around . . .”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t take it personally; in fact see it as a complement, for if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have even bothered with this primitive backwater . . .”

“Is there something you want?” I snapped, “Otherwise I’d rather continue with my dreams.”

“Well it doesn’t really work that way,” it said, looking up as if it were thinking, “I’m not here looking for your help, not yet anyways, rather for now, I’m here to help you.”

“What? Why?”

“Call it banking a favor. I’ll advise you and sometime in your future you’ll have a chance to return the favor.”

“How can you help me?”

“Admittedly I know little of what you call spell casting, it all comes naturally to me, like breathing comes naturally to you, but I do understand the universe and future events. I can’t really answer too many questions about the future, that could alter things and muck up your time stream, but I can offer hints from time to time and answer the occasional question.”

“I don’t think the others . . .”

“I have no intentions of talking with the others,” it said, “when I want to give advise I’ll do so like this, out of your time stream.”

“What should I call you?”

“Good question,” it said with a blank look on its face, “naturally my language and your own are completely different, for one you are 92 appendages short and can only talk out of one orifice.”

“What does you name mean then?”

“Ok,” it said, “using only colors describe Tristan Lidu to me then.”

“Point taken,” I said, “we’ll just have to call you something else then . . . what about Apehead?”

“No,” it muttered, “although a head is all I possess, calling me ‘head’ makes me sound less then whole, or worse, incomplete. No, you call yourself a human, I shall be ‘something’ man as well.”

“Apeman?”

“Apes are mocked by humans, ‘dumb as an ape’ you say. I want something that implies intelligence and cunning.”

“Foxman? Maybe owlman?”

“But I have the head of a primate, an orangutan, which I’m well aware from reading your mind is part of the ape family . . .”

“You’re reading my mind!” I gasped in horror.

“How do you think I know your language? Observation and study? I’m immortal but even I have better things to do. It’s far easier to take the language straight from your mind. Now wait a minute, before you fill the air with your pointless complaints and whining I just stumbled across something in all that verbiage you have floating around up there, ‘dumb as an ape’, but ‘smart as a chimp’! I like it! Call me Chimpman.”

“You . . .”

“Chimpman . . .”

“You’ve been reading my mind all this time?”

“Only sense you were about fourteen.” The filthy ape head spouted.

I was speechless.

“Well this has been a wonderful first session,” the severed said, “I formally introduced myself, explained out places in the universe, and even got a flesh name in the process. Overall a very eventual night. Shall we place everything back as we found it so I can return you to the time stream?”

“Wait . . . why do . . .”

“Because although you weren’t in the time stream, everything around you is, and I would think that your familiar for example might become distressed if he should suddenly find himself on his back in the middle of your bed.”

“So . . .”

“Yes this is very similar to the spell you call ‘time stop’, seeing as you were sleeping at the time when I drop you back into the time stream you’ll be back to sleep . . .”

“Wait,” I said trying to get a word in edgewise, “if you drop me back to sleep will I remember any of this?”

“Perhaps . . .”

“Can you give me time to write it down?”

“I suppose,” he grumbled, “but put me back in your bag first. Chimpman will be answering no more questions tonight.”

I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination but the head felt strangely heavy. I watched the thing as I carried it back to my side of the cabin and my haversack. It seemed almost alive, its eyes even blinked, how could an alien intelligence think to do that? Unless it was simply mimicking my own movements . . .

I quickly replaced everything the best I could and copied out our strange conversation. If this entry remains in the morning I’ll know I’ve not been dreaming.

If the others could see me I’m sure my smile would make them nervous. Despite the danger we faced today, now, with my new trinket, I just can’t stop smiling. I now have a way to guarantee Lavinia’s election. Manthalay has schemed the way to his own destruction.

We awoke to the sounds of drums. The sound was quiet at first, we were still miles from its source, but the sound was somewhat unsettling and the slow rhythmic pounding must have echoed for miles around. Our Oman hosts dropped what they were doing and started walking toward the sound.

“What’s going on?” I asked one of the farmers we’d been staying with.

“It is the call,” she said looking to the great wall in the distance, “we must go to the village. The priestess has summoned us.” I watched her walk off into the jungle, her family in tow. Around us we saw other Omans from the small farmstead doing the same thing.

“Do we follow?” Kiki asked.

“Not before breakfast,” I said glancing down at the fair that Churtle had prepared, “I don’t march on an empty stomach. Besides who knows when we might eat again.

“And,” I said lowering my voice so Kale or Buffy couldn’t hear, “if this is an Oman religious ceremony I’d like to delay for as long as I can and hopefully avoid the whole thing. Some of our group might not care for what they see.” Truth be told, I wasn’t anxious to see an Oman religious ceremony either, but I was willing to bet that I would be more open minded then ‘captain stick up the butt’. The Oman gods weren’t always kind or compassionate and it wasn’t hard to imagine Kale saying something intolerant and starting an incident.

We ate our breakfasts, packed up our things, and started walking. The drums not only grew louder as we approached but they also picked up in tempo. It seemed that the gathering was building towards something. Soon we could hear chanting from somewhere ahead. At first their words were to distant and muffled to make out, but as we got closer we soon realized that they were chanting the same name over and over: Zotzilaha – the Oman god of fire and blood.

We climbed the last of the slope, freed ourselves from the constant jungle canopy, and soon found ourselves outside of the much revered village that lay in the shadow of the great wall. There we beheld a magnificently wicked spectacle: hundreds of Oman stood in a rough semi circle around the base of their great pyramid. They were all chanting. A few dozen others, dressed in paint and colored masks (and little else) danced in and out of the crowd and around the great bonfire that roared at the pyramid’s feet. The flames and sparks of the fire climbed high in the morning sky, the heat must have been incredible, but the horrible bat totem, which stood in the center of the flames, didn’t seem to be touched by the heat. All around us the drummers pounded out a maddening beat. Again I felt the crazy tempo seemed to be building towards something. I dreaded to know what, I knew these people were not above human sacrifice, but as I scanned the crowd to find the chief the ceremony culminated in an unexpected climax!

There was a great din and I turned, as so many others had, to the source of the sounds I was amazed to see sparks and blue flame shooting out from great bat idol. The screams of the crowd told me that this wasn’t the results they were looking for. Suddenly the great bat totem seemed to animate, then, through the flames, it seemed to take on an entirely fleshy form, complete with fur, flashing red eyes, and a horrible bat head. People dropped and cowered in fear. Its hairless bat wings began flapping as if it was flying sending embers and sparks from the flames everywhere.

“Zotzilaha hears your sniveling prayers!” The inhuman creature screeched in a voice that was almost completely bestial, “You would appease the Great Bat? Then return what has been stolen or burn!”

The effigy suddenly seemed to explode, bats (with wings of fire) erupted from the blast and streaked high into the morning sky, and, if this weren’t horrifying enough, to punctuate this incredible display two great mountains on the horizon rumbled and erupted with smoke and flame. The Bat God knows how to make a point. Naturally what followed was bedlam. Villagers ran for their lives. Thankfully being a pale and white outsider with strange clothing (including my gnarled wooden crown) meant that the Omans avoided me and the others like we were the devil. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for those bats, who had by this time reached the apex of their flight they and now suddenly turned and streaked back down into the village!

Battle erupted around me, I sub-consciously summoned beasts to battle the fire bats, but my heart wasn’t really in this battle for mind was on other things. There was something about how that bat creature said “return what has been stolen”, for some reason I felt as though he was speaking directly to me, and I felt that the thing that had been stolen was the golden bat idol in my haversack. It seems absurd, that idol had been found miles away on another continent, but the feeling had been unquestionably strong. Perhaps the god had felt the thing missing and finally tracked down the culprits. I wondered if we were going to have to teleport back to Tamoachan to replace it. I knew I should have had Kiki return it then and there!

The little fire beasts proved to be annoyingly resilient, taking beating after beating and still rising up from the ashes (as it were), thankfully cold put them down for good. I’d have thought with the bats destroyed the locals would be crawling all over themselves to thank the heroes who saved their village but strangely most remained in hiding, and it was the village chief, the very woman that we’d come to meet, that approached us.

“Thank you for saving our village,” the proud and brave chieftain said, “our village is in your debt.”

“Nonsense,” I said, “we’re heroes! It’s what we do.”

“Yes, well,” Fredrick cut in, “perhaps this was for the best then, no one was harmed and we have need of aid in the village of Farshore.”

“We are not unaware of your problems,” the great woman said, “word of your problems has spread north, but unfortunately I cannot send aid while our village is in danger.”

“Then perhaps we can be of some help?” Fredrick asked.

“If you could find some way of appeasing the god and setting things right we’d gladly send whatever help we could spare.”

“No worries elder,” I said, “we’d do whatever we could anyways, because that’s what heroes do. Please tell us what has gone missing?”

The Chief looked at me slightly cockeyed as if trying to figure out what I was about, “There is but one item on the island that Zotzilaha could be speaking of,” she eventually said, “a golden idol, forged in his image, and placed in his temple many years ago by the ancients. There is nothing else that we know of.”

“Golden bat idol,” I said, suddenly fearing that my fears were true, and then something occurred to me, “wait, stolen from a temple here? On the Island of Dread?”

“We do not call our island by that name, but . . .”

“Wait,” Fredrick said, “describe this idol.”

“Let me do the talking here Fredrick,” I said before he could give too much information, “you translate for the others.”

“Why did he ask about the idol?” The ancient Oman asked

“We have a bat idol!” Kiki said in common as Fredrick quickly translated.

The old lady’s face grew dark, but thankfully I think quickly on my feet: “We fought some pirates on the way over here!” I pretended to remember, “I’m sure that idol was in our possession after we dealt with those fiends.”

The chief seemed to consider my words as Fredrick translated.

“No,” Kiki said, “it was before then! Remember when we went to those Oman ruins . . .”

“Oh yes,” I grumbled in common, “Thank you Kiki, how careless of me.”

I wondered if Kiki remembered stealing the thing as well? I needed to think of something fast, the chief was looking at me with a suspicious look, and Kiki was libel to blab something incriminating. The only thing that came to mind was my journal.

“Well I know,” I said with a forced laugh, “I’ll just check my journal. I record all of our exploits in here. Give me a moment . . .” I pretended to look through the pages, perhaps there was some mistake, and perhaps there was another idol on the island . . . if the idol had once been here and was stolen what was it doing so many miles away? How did it get there? I remembered that there were two creatures in those chambers behind that iron wall: a varrangoin and a will-o-wisp, and of the two only the varrangoin was capable of lifting and transporting the heavey golden idol. But why those ruins? It didn’t make add up, the demon had clearly been trapped, it was practically mad with hunger by the time we found it, and it clearly it had no reason to take the idol only to hide it in some unknown ruin so many miles away. Could there have been another reason? Perhaps the demon was working for someone else? It seems a tad convenient that we, who were heading to the isle of dread, should stumble across this idol, which we would later need, in the ruins of some forgotten city. The only way they could have known we were going there was if they’d talked to one of the crew . . .

“Oh yes,” I said, absently realizing that I’d turned to the page I needed, ““Look what I found!” Kiki said holding up a golden bat statue,” I read aloud, mentally translating it from abyssal to common and then into Oman, “but it says here that Buffy thought it was a statue of Camazotz, thus you can understand my confusion.”

“Let me see your book,” the chief said, I handed it over so she could scan the pages, I only hopped that she didn’t look down on my writing for all the little doodles on the margins, “I can’t read this,” she snapped, “what language is this?”

“Oh, abyssal,” I said with a shrug, I’d reached such a mastery of the language that I often thought in abyssal, and it was easy to forget that it was a rare language on this plane of existence.

“Abyssal,” she said tossing my book back as if it could bite, “the language of demons?”

“Look,” I snapped, somewhat annoyed at the dismissal and treatment of my diary, “I don’t know where you think Zotzilaha comes from but it sure as heck isn’t the seven heavens! Sure, he and most of his servants speak Oman, but he and his denizens reside in the fiery spiral of the abyss, and they all speak abyssal as assuredly as elves speak elven and dwarves are hairy. If you don’t want to believe me that’s fine, but I’ve got no reason to want to anger a god, and I say Zotzilaha can speak Abyssal backwards and forwards and I don’t see him striking me down for speaking blasphemy.

“Now here’s the situation, we have a bat idol, perhaps even your bat idol, although what it would have been doing all those miles away in a completely abandoned and long forgotten ruin is besides me. Heck the place was probably emptied by grave robbers years before I was even born! But the fact is we have a bat idol, something that might appease your god, and we’re even willing to drop it off in this temple for you, plus we’re not even asking anything in return, you need help and that’s what we heroes do: we help people! But we don’t know where this temple is and our time is short and I’m guessing this god isn’t going to give us much more time . . .” I said waving at the two volcanoes, “even though we’ve had this idol for almost two months now . . .” I sighed, sometime being a hero is complicated, “give us a guide and we’ll leave straight away.”

The chief seemed to consider my words. By now some of the villagers found the courage to return to the town center and had heard some of my words. I could hear the soft murmurings of discussions spreading through the crowd. I pulled out the ape head while the chief contemplated her decision. I loved the glint those glass eyes had . . . almost a look of intelligence.

“Chief,” said a young warrior near the fire, “let me go. I’ll show the outsiders to the mouth of the temple.”

“Are you sure Carborundum?” the elder asked, “Zotzilaha might not like outsiders in his temple.”

The lad swallowed hard, but raised his head and cried: “I am not afraid chief, send me!”

“So be it then,” the woman said, “the fate of the village lies in your hands.”

Strangely she seemed to speak to the lad more than us.

We walked down to the beach and boarded a large boat. It was a strange sail boat, like two canoes joined together with wooden poles, and a triangle sail between the two hulls. We sailed for many, many more miles before lunch, and amazingly the wind seemed to be with us. We crossed perhaps as much as twenty miles in three hours and I could only marvel at the speed and agility of this primitive boat. I glanced at the horizon I couldn’t help but notice that the great volcanoes were getting closer. I knew the bat god was also a fire god and I was getting a sinking suspicion that we were going to get a closer look at the fire aspect.

“Where are we going Carborundum?” I asked the young warrior.

“You’ll see,” he said with a smile.

“We’re not going there are we?” I asked pointing at the volcanoes.

“We?” he asked, “I’m not going inside, that’s the job of heroes, I’m just going to show you the way.”

Did I detect a slight sneering tone to his voice? Was he mocking me?

“No matter,” I said out loud, “volcano or no volcano, bat god or no bat god, we have a job to do, and a woman I care very much about is depending on me. I’d go to the very abyss for her if I had to. A little molten rock isn’t going to slow me down.”

The lad cocked an eyebrow at that but said nothing else.

We crossed the bay and dragged the boat far up the beach. There we found a great set of stairs carved into the cliff face and my belly told me that we were near supper time by the time we reached the top and started pushing through the jungle. I half expected to break through the jungle at any moment to find ourselves at the feet of those fire beaching giants but thankfully it wasn’t meant to be, we did eventually break through the jungle, but we found ourselves on the edge of a great fissure, and in the distance I spotted more stairs carved into the stone. We descended deep into ground, far below any place the sun could reach, and yet the deeper we climbed the hotter it got. It felt like a furnace. Finally at the bottom, in the dark heat near the centre of the earth, our guide pointed out a hole carved into the very living rock.

“We need to go into there?” I asked.

“What you mean ‘we’ white one?” He said looking me over, “I’m staying here . . . till sunrise, then I’m going home. This is the temple doors, just follow the path down . . . oh and try not to die from the heat. I guess that’s a very real possibility here.”

There was some grumbling but we all eventually made our way into the tunnel. It was hot. Unimaginably hot. I could only describe it as being outside on the hottest day you’d ever experienced (one of those days were the wind is just blowing hot air), putting on a winter jacket, and then standing next to a fire. It was the kind of heat that makes people delirious. It seemed the deeper we traveled the hotter it got. It was the kind of heat that people dropped dead in . . . and we were going deeper. Finally I got a glimpse of glowing rock and I thought “this is it, we’ve finally reached the very depths of hell”, but thankfully we’d also reached our destination.

“Hey,” Kale called out (he was bathed in the red glow given off my liquid stone), “I think we found the temple!”

We all rushed forward (or as quickly as our wilted bodies would allow). Somehow an ancient temple excised here near the depths of hell! Small niches were carved along the walls that held all manner of offerings. None of them looked particularly appetizing, trinkets, foods, and dead animals mainly, and some contained only ash - the contents having burnt to crisps years ago. The thing that caught the eye (and the thing that made this look like a temple) was the great bat statue that took up the opposite wall. It was a massive thing, at least fifteen feet tall and almost as wide, and its great wings stretched up to the ceiling with its claws forming and meeting at a curiously empty niche. I looked up at that hollow spot and immediately knew what I had to do! I cast fly.

Suddenly there was a great roar! That horrible monster that had made a brief cameo appearance at the village appeared out of nowhere with another colony of fire bats in tow. The creature didn’t talk. It didn’t threaten. It simply dove into the temple and breathed a horrible ungodly fire upon us. Thankfully Churtle and I were just out of range. Kiki and Orlani were able to dodge out of the way . . . but the others weren’t so lucky. Our warriors charged forward to engage the aspect of the bat god, and while it was distracted with them I saw my opportunity! I flew straight at the niche, pulling out the bat idol as I went, and sliding it into the gap with one fluid movement.

I turned to see if this act would have any effect on the fighting. It had been less a few seconds and already our team looked badly beaten, I had little doubt that if the creature pressed the attack here he’d make short work of my companions, but thankfully he disengaged without swinging another claw. His annoying bat companions joined him.

“Zotzilaha thanks you for returning his treasure,” the monster said in common, “Know, mortals, that Zotzilaha rewards those who serve him. You may each take something of value from his vault. If you have questions about a prize, you need but ask me. Choose quickly, for you must leave this place before I grow hungry . . .”

The wings of the great bat suddenly animated, lifting to reveal a hidden treasure room beyond, and its shelves were lined with magical and non-magical prizes of all sorts. Fredrick was the first one into the room and he immediately snatched up a leather scroll containing a strange looking tooth. Kiki found coins. James and Kale both went after a fancy looking breast plate, but James managed to win odd or even game to decide who gets it, and Kale was forced to settle with the amulet. Buffy found a magical pearl and I managed to grab the room’s only ring. Orlani grabbed a magical long sword (probably intending to sell it), and Churtle grabbed a rock. It was a magical rock, but a rock none the less, and I couldn’t help but feel that my Kobold friend had chosen poorly.

Then we discovered what our items did! These were no minor trinkets, I held in my hands a ring of invisibility, Orlani had found a legendary flame tongue, and Churtle held a luck stone! Almost everyone had managed to find something of extreme value, except perhaps Kiki and Fredrick, the former having chosen coins, and the later having chosen a tooth. The tooth was a curious item, undoubtedly magical, but strangely the aspect didn’t recognize it, and couldn’t tell Fredrick anything about it. Fredrick chose to keep it anyways. Perhaps I’d look into the item later.

With our items chosen we quickly made our way back to the surface. Our warriors and our cleric were growing dizzy under all that armor, my light layers of clothing were bad enough, I couldn’t imagine being in heat trapping metal! It was night by the time we left the kiln, the fissure wasn’t much cooler than it had been during the day, but it felt like the frozen waste compared to the tunnels. Our guild seemed surprised to see us.

“You’re alive . . .” he said, “H-has the god been appeased.”

“Has he ever!” I said displaying my new ring, “he even gave us all presents! Once we calmed him down Zotzilaha proved to be a surprisingly gracious host. There was even talk of a meal . . . but we sadly had to get back to the surface. You should have gone with us. You might have gotten something as well.”

The man’s jaw dropped and he seemed suitably shocked. I was satisfied that he wouldn’t be mocking us for the rest of our trip.

As for my new toy: I’d been thinking during our long climb to the surface. Manthaly wanted a secret ballet? Well with Kiki’s stealth, and my new ring of invisibility, I could now guarantee Lavinia’s win! Sure stuffing the ballet box was ethically wrong, and yes I’m sure it would be a hollow win for Lavinia if she ever found out, but I knew it would be for the greater good of Farshore. Still, I’m sure some of the others might feel ethically conflicted, and so I’m only going to entrust my plan to Kiki. With her help I’ll soon have Lavinia elected no matter what dirty tricks the Meravanchi pulled!

Our first test has gone well,
Cthulhu dreams

Fragments of the Lidu Diaries: Trip to the Olman village
. . .
I visited the Witchwardens shortly after arriving. The great tower, an easy landmark for the great city, now was a new source of knowledge and magic for me. It still didn’t feel like my library or my school like the House of the Dragon did, but I was quickly becoming accustomed to the layout and the social hierarchy, and unlike the house of the dragon where I was an alumni (just bellow teacher or trustee) here I was almost at the bottom of the barrel. Naturally I expected to enter, give my report to some anonymous black dagger and then be on my way, but it wasn’t meant to be. I was surprised to find that a few of the white daggers recognized me and I was quickly ushered into the upper levels of the tower, past the offices of the Black daggers, and into the very office of Lux Seoni. At the time I could only imagine that it was a slow day.

“Greating Mistress,” I said trying to contain my surprise at finding myself facing the stern commander of the Witchwardens with only my fourth visit to the tower.

“Hello young Lidu,” Miss Seoni said, her voice was calm but as sharp a blade, and her gaze was, as ever, very unsettling. I couldn’t really guess her mood. “Guess what I did this morning.” She asked.

“I couldn’t possibly . . .”

“I was reading over the notes from the emergency meeting of the Dawn Council that took place two days ago,” she was definitely angry, “imagine my surprise when I was told of the potential threats to the security of Sasserine . . .”

“That’s why I came . . .”

“Then imagine my further surprise when I was told that this report was given by a certain Tristan Lidu . . .”

“I’m sorry but . . .”

“Oh no, I said, there must be some mistake, I’ve heard nothing of this report and this Tristan Lidu works for the Witchwardens. Then I demanded to know who lost our copy of your report,” she laughed (only not really, the sound was more akin to barking and there was certainly no mirth in the sound), “so tell me young Lidu, where do you suppose my report is?”

“I wanted to give you my report in person,” I said, “and you must know by now Farshore is in dire straits, and so . . .”

“And so,” she snapped, “Damn it initiate! You have a duty to report to us first! This duty to dawn council is all well and good, but two days means nothing to them, they might spend two days talking about a cat bylaw, but two days could be an entirety to us! I could have had people investigating by now! Perhaps you don’t understand how serious this is? Have you ever heard of a cult called the Wizards of the Hopping Prophet? They’re a sinister little group that’s bent on reaping chaos and destruction where ever they go. They worship slaadi you see and we thought they might be operating somewhere in the jungles to the south. But then I read your report. Now we think that they might have been in Cauldron as well as Fort Blackwell? I believe that this Horst character was carrying something important, we came close to uncovering one of their cells a few months back and I figure we might have spooked them . . . now I know the trails gone cold, and I realize that you have other allegiances and responsibilities, but you swore an oath to protect Sasserine and you can’t do that if you put everything else first!”

“I’m sorry,” I growled, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, and not at all liking being reprimand for something I had little control over, “I guess maybe you should have followed your initial instincts and not offered me a position in your precious organization after all.”

“Oh I just knew that deal was going to come back and bite us in the rear,” she muttered, but her eyes quickly focused on me again, and they seemed alight with fire, “you want to quit? Just because I’m chewing you out for not doing your job? All right, go ahead and quit then, I have no use for quitters, and you’d be doing the wardens a favor as well because to fight the enemies of Sasserine we need casters with spine and guts. It takes more than some vague understanding of the craft to succeed here. You may have been the wonder child at the House of the Dragon but that means squat here. Here your judge by your actions rather than your talent. You can’t take that? Then quit and run home to your mommy and daddy, some said we should never have accepted someone so young, and I guess perhaps they were right.”

I felt tears in the corners of my eyes but I held my tongue . . . I didn’t think she had any right to speak to me that way.

“But if you figure yourself worthy of standing in this tower,” she continued, “or if you fancy proving these doubters wrong, then you better just shut that mouth of yours and listen up. I don’t take time out of my day to yell at just anyone.”

I met her gaze but wisely said nothing.

“Good,” Lux said, nodding with approval at my silence, “you’re a promising young mage, perhaps the brightest and best applicant we’ve had in recent memory . . . despite your youth, but this is a military organization, and you had bloody well learn your place in it but fast! You’re an initiate and that means that everyone is your superior! That lamp over there can give your orders if it wants. Right now, by the book, you shouldn’t even be allowed out of the tower unescorted. You should report everything you find to a white dagger. They’re qualified to tell if it’s important or not. You hop when we say hop and jump when we say jump. You got that?”

“Yes Ma’am,” I said bowing my head just enough to show deference . . . and not one fraction of an inch more.

“Good, sit down,” she said pointing to a chair near her desk, “we got lots to talk about.”

“What about,” I asked, sitting down, “I thought my report to the Dawn Council . . .”

“Was very detailed?” Lux said, finishing my sentence, “it was. Mind numbingly detailed. You sure like to talk don’t you? No, it’s not about that, it’s about this black pearl business. I’ve been looking over some of these reports and what I see here is as fascinating as it is disturbing. Your accounts of the savage creatures was truly disturbing and the pearl itself still radiated of transmutation magic as well as the hint of chaotic and evil taints . . . this was well over a week after you reported it being set off. I suspect that it may have been on a power level equal to that of any lesser artifact I’ve ever handled. Sadly whatever magic it once possessed is gone now, and the fragments you delivered are, by all tests we’ve tried, completely mundane. There is little more we can learn from the fragments you left us however. Our research continues though, in our own library, and in the House of the Dragon. I understand that you enjoyed research when you were in school, professor Talbit says you were very concise, and when you’re finished with your business in Farshore I’d like for you to join our research team.”

I was shocked. Lux certainly didn’t believe in mincing words. I was taken aback by some of the details about the pearl, although I was hardly surprised at the items power after witnessing the devastation, but the invitation to be part of a research team was a great honor. I was a little surprised that the Old Dog (professor Talbit) and Lux were friends however.

“I didn’t know you and Professor Talbit know each other,” I found myself saying.

“We don’t,” Lux said, “but I spoke to all your teachers, they seem to think you’re the genuine article.”

My surprise must have registered on my face because she continued.

“I don’t do that for all of my applicants, but when you’re going to offer a personal invitation I damn well want to be sure that I’m not making a mistake. I’m sure you have a lot to deal with so I won’t ask for a decision now, but seeing as you were the one responsible for bring this pearl to our attention, and seeing as your notes are what we’re basing our research on, I think it’s only fitting that you should be part of the team looking into it.

“Now,” she said looking over some papers on her desk, “a few weeks ago I’d thought to offer you a promotion, your new mastery of magic along with this black pearl business made me and some of the black daggers think that you should receive a white dagger, but I could hardly summon you too my offices to chew you out then offer a promotion now could I? You keep your nose to the grind stone, make some regular reports, perhaps some donations of magic or knowledge, and in another month’s time I can arrange a promotion without appearing soft.”

“Excuse me Ma’am,” I said nervous of interrupting the powerful mage, “a promotion is all well and good, but I’m afraid I’ll be terribly busy for the next two months getting Farshore ready to fend off the crimson fleet to be terribly concerned about advancement. Farshore is in pretty rough shape. I am honored though! Especially about the prospect of research, to be honest when I left the pearl fragments I was worried about the lack of concern the black dagger I left it with seemed to show, and I feared that I’d need to look into it on my own at some point. Knowing that people are taking this threat seriously is a big relief and I’d very much like to take part in this endive. As for now though, I have a few more errands I’d like to run but I was wondering, because you’re the mistress of this tower, and because I’ve had no luck asking with anyone else, I was wondering if you could tell me where Lord Theodran is? I’d love to ask him some more questions.”

Lux began writing on the papers in front of her. She didn’t appear particularly pleased at being interrupted but she didn’t snap back at me either. I suspect that the great Lux Seoni has a temper that runs both hot and cold, and not having her immediately snap at me wasn’t necessarily a good thing, but when I asked about Theodran her expression changed for a moment. It was gone in an instant, whatever it was she did her best to hide it, and she placed her pen down and looked up at me.

“He’s gone,” she simply said, “for how long I’m not sure, but he does that sort of thing all the time. I don’t think he’s ever been in Sasserine for more than a year if you add up all the time he’s spent here in the eighteen years that I’ve known him together. Who knows when he’ll be back, or for how long, to be honest I’m surprised that he stayed long enough . . .” she stopped herself, and she seemed to roll something over in her head, “no matter,” she continued, “I hope you didn’t join our order solely to consult with him.”

“No, not entirely,” I said trying to hide my disappointment, “although gaining access to his brain was a major selling point.”

“Yes, well he is the city’s top expert when he’s here, but he’s always been predictably sporadic. Sorry to disappoint you. Now, seeing as I no longer have any use for you . . . go about your business, you’re dismissed.”

. . .
Amella was saying at the town’s only bar/ inn called ‘The Last Coconut’, I’d never visited the place until now, but then again I’ve never been much of a heavy drinker. Kiki, on the other hand, was well acquainted with the place.

It was a nice enough inn, sparsely decorated, and modestly furnished, but I didn’t see Amella in the common area/bar. I knew her room was somewhere upstairs but I never made it past the bar to investigate.

“Brent?” I asked in amazement.

“Oh hello Tristan,” the former Renkrue brew master said without the slightest hint of surprise, “I was wondering when you’d be stopping buy.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked dumbfounded.

“Serving drinks,” he said without skipping a beat, “what can I get you?”

“No, I mean, how did you get here?” I stammered, “I thought we left you on Renkrue . . .”

“Oh yes, that,” he said looking a bit embarrassed, and suddenly feeling the need to explain, “I’ve spent most of my life on that island you know. It’s a beautiful, the food was wonderful, and it’s very, very peaceful, but I wanted a little adventure. I didn’t want to be the village brew master forever, I didn’t want to spend my entire life as the lone white face in that sea of black, and I wanted to get out and explore, and so, when you ships were taking on some last minute supplies I stowed away.”

“Why not try to go home? To where you were born? We couldn’t have been the only ships stopping off on Renkrue.”

“The first two in eighteen months,” he said.

“But you must have heard where we were going? Who in their right mind wants to go to the isle of dread?” I was vaguely aware of some of the bar patrons were staring at me, “no offence,” I quickly added to placate them, “Vote Lavinia.”

“Of course I knew were you were headed,” he said with a laugh, “It was mentioned on many occasions, but a place like this has great potential, and while I was well liked on Renkrue here I have the potential to settle down and build a family. Right now this place is serving some powerful moonshine, not terribly flavorful though, in a month’s time my new and improved batch will be ready and I suspect that I’ll quickly earn my keep.”

“How did Lavinia react when she found out she had a stowaway I wonder?”

“Don’t really know,” Brent confessed, “but the rest of the crew was certainly upset, I must say that I didn’t enjoy the trip over very much, but after the storms, monsters, and pirates this place doesn’t seem so bad . . .”

“Tristan,” Amella called down from the balcony railing, “are you here for a drink?”

“I’m here to see you actually,” I said looking up at her, “but if you want a drink I’ll join you.”

Amella climbed down the stairs to join me, “This stuff will strip the varnish off a mast or leach the tar right out of a seam. We’ll have two glasses there Brent.”

“I need to talk to you in private,” I said holding the clearish glass of liquid up to the light, “it was nice meeting you again Brent, but you’ll have to excuse us for some official business.”

“No problem,” Brent said as he collected our coins, “I’ll be here if you need me.”

We took our ‘drinks’ to a private side of the common room. It wasn’t quite supper time yet and the bar was practically deserted. I sniffed the liquid quickly and almost gasped. Someone could get drunk on the fumes alone! I glanced around to ensure that we were nowhere near any open flames.

“Powerful right?” Amella laughed, “they have to serve this stuff in glass otherwise it eats through the clay.” She took a sip and grimaced as the nasty stuff burned its way down to her belly, “I’d water it down but that doesn’t seem to help, it just seems to stretch the bloody stuff out. Now what did you want to talk about?”

“Two things actually,” I said, taking my first sip of the foul stuff. I spent the next minute or so coughing. It was like drinking fire. Amella was smiling broadly at me, no doubt taking some sadistic pleasure in seeing her young inexperienced companion struggle with her liquor, but I chose to ignore her bemusement. I had business to discuss and I didn’t want any childish drinking contests to get in the way my real reasons for coming here. “Lavinia needs a captain to sail the Blue Nixie back to Sasserine, and we need someone to run interference on Avner while we’re away,” I gasped, “and I thought of you.”

Amella smiled, then frowned, and looked me in the eyes, “what do you mean by running interference?” She asked, “I don’t want to get involved in politics.”

“There’s no choice,” I said pushing my glass away (I had no intentions of drinking anymore), “as you may have seen, Avner is campaigning for his uncle, and we’re heading north to find allies, supplies, and to strengthen Farshore. We can’t be here to stop any rumors or lies he might spread. We need someone to counter Avner, or at the very least, we need someone to report his exploits to the villagers. These Meravanchi don’t play fair, and we need all the help we can get!”

“Weren’t you the one who warned me not to piss off the nobles back in Sasserine?” she asked, sliding my glass back in front of me.

“Yes, well,” I said eyeing the glass like it contained poison, “that was before I knew you were a truly competent captain, before you proved your skill by sailing us to the Isle of Dread, and most importantly, that was back in Sasserine. That’s where the Meravanchi have some influence. Here, in the middle of nowhere, a noble is only worth what she can bring to her people. Lavinia wants to employ your services, so you have a secure job, but if Lavinia is ousted out of her birthright by these Meravanchi fops I think it’s unlikely that she’d stay.” I took another, much smaller sip of the rotgut . . . I didn’t cough quite as hard this time.

Amella took a sip as well and seemed to think for a moment, “How do I know that Manthalay can’t find work for me? Why should I get dragged into this and take sides?”

“He doesn’t have a boat for starters,” I said, but I could understand her fears, “Look Amella, you and James are the only two captains on this island after what happened to Lavinia’s captain. The fact of the matter is that if you want the job you probably already have it, but I’m asking you as a friend to . . .”

“Then I’ll do it,” she said, cutting me off.

“What?” I stammered.

“That’s all you had to say,” Amella shrugged, “ask me as a friend. You nobles and your talk, and you especially, you talk and talk and talk, like you’re going to think up a logical reason for me to throw my lot in with Lavinia, not that I don’t like the girl, she’s a good match for you, but you know as well as I do that choosing sides in these political disputes is reckless and often pointless. Most of the time folk like me have more to lose then to gain. It’s like leaving harbor in a storm. It doesn’t matter what you’re transporting, people just want their goods on time preferably, but most know it’s better late than never. Risking your neck in a storm doesn’t help you any, especially when it’s just as likely to get you sunk. The only reason I’d ever risk my neck in a storm is to save a friend, and even though it’s still hardly sensible, friendship is something I’m willing to risk my neck for. So what is it exactly you want me to do?”

“Well it’s just like I said; we need someone to foil Avner’s attempts at persuading people until we can finish with our missions.”

“But what exactly do you want me to do,” Amella said, “let’s get very specific here, also let’s have some drinks. You and I haven’t really celebrated our safe arrival at Farshore yet.”

I glanced down at my glass; it looked as full as it did when Brent poured it, perhaps it seemed that there was more . . .

“Drinks?” I muttered, “I don’t think I’m going to finish this one.”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket all the time Tristan,” Amella scolded, “if I’m going to risk my neck for your friend Lavinia the least you could do is have a few drinks with me.”

“Fair enough,” I said looking at the horrid stuff, “but if I go blind I’m holding you responsible.”

. . .
It was dark when I came too. At first I didn’t know where I was. I rolled over and sat up. I found myself on the small couch in Lavinia’s study. My head was still pounding from the rotgut, ‘please oh please,’ I thought, ‘don’t let me have embarrassed myself, especially not in front of Lavinia . . .’

“Oh good,” Lavinia said from the other side of the study, “you’re awake.”

I glanced over at her chair, she was looking at me in the starlight, but I could only make out her silhouette, and her face was concealed. It was funny that I hadn’t initially seen her there.

“What are you doing sitting in the dark?” I asked, “I didn’t embarrass myself did I?” I quickly added.

“Not too much,” Lavinia said with a chuckle, “How much do you remember?”

“I . . .” I was suddenly drawing a blank, my mind ran over the afternoon’s events. Then things came back to me in flashes. I remembered meeting with Amella, drinking, meeting with some of my work crew, drinking; having Kiki, James, and Orlani joining us, drinking, stumbling outside to throw up, drinking, and then Amella walking me back to Lavinia’s place. I remembered bits and pieces. Lavinia had helped me to the couch . . . and I’d asked her why she’d never married . . . and then . . .

“I don’t remember anything,” I lied, “it’s a complete blank.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Lavinia said, and even in the darkness I could hear the tears in her voice, “here, let me help you to your room.”

. . .
“It’s too bad that you couldn’t use your original plans,” Lavinia said as she looked over my revisions, “If that chain had of worked we could have prevented enemy ships from getting close enough to use their siege weapons on the town.”

“Yes,” I sighed, “but there’s just not enough chain in Sasserine right now, and the winch would need to be made of solid iron or steel to support the weight. The artificial sand bars will still do the trick and we can better corral them into Churtle’s traps this way. It’s far from what I originally planned but I think it’s best to keep things simple.”

“You’re patrol routes are going to be very useful as well,” she said, “barring any fog or complete darkness I don’t see how these monsters are going to get into our harbor without us knowing.”

I smiled. My head still hurt from last night but I was glad for the pain, it would serve as a penitence for my foolishness, and as a reminder not to drink again. Thankfully Lavinia had wisely chosen to pretend that last night had never happened. She had enough on her mind without me to think about.

“Did I tell you that Amella is going to assist in our campaign?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said with a slight smile, “more than a few times.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“No,” she said looking away, “we make a good team, you know as well as I do what we need to do to win. I think that . . . we . . .”

“I’ll be leaving for the Oman villages tomorrow,” I quickly added, “we’ll be gone for maybe a month, but probably not two months straight. With my new understanding of transportation you’ll likely have us popping in unannounced every now and then. Not that I have any doubt that you can handle things here, but we all need someone to lean on from time to time.”

I needed to leave things unsaid. What had happened last night was a mistake brought on by alcohol. Lavinia would need time to think. I didn’t want my stupidity to cause her any embarrassment. It would break my heart but I would forget everything that happened last night . . . I had work to do, and a village to save. There was no time for fantasy now.

. . .
I must admit that the Omans know how to preserve things. The bar-lqura head looked as lifelike as when I carved it off it off the filthy animal’s shoulders. Everything, including that cruel sneer, had been preserved, but what really struck me were the eyes. Maybe they were glass, maybe they were stone, but those eyes looked completely lifelike. They seemed to glimmer in the sun with a cold calculating alien astuteness. The others (especially Kale) were notably less thrilled with my new trophy then I was, but what did they know? I’d been in homes were dead animals hung on the floor and walls, and here I had something that deserved to be dead, and they wanted to throw it out? It was madness.

I was pleased to find that the jaw still somehow kept some of its articulation. I was able to open its mouth about half an inch, perhaps when I returned home I could store pens or something in there, but mainly I was pleased that I could still use the head as a plaything. I rather liked using the damn dirty ape’s head as a toy to amuse others. It seemed a fitting end to such a cruel and evil beast.

. . .
The oman remain quite hospitable. Each and every chief receives us and listens to our tails with concern and sympathy, but in each village and tribe the answer is always the same, without the approval of Tanaroa they will not send aide. Thankfully tomorrow, after four days of hiking, we’ll finally get to sit down and meet with the chief of the respected village. I only hope that we can convince the tribe to send badly needed people and supplies. We’ve met and talked with these people before on our way to Farshore, they seemed impressed with our demon saying abilities, and now I hope we can capitalize on this rapport.

Time will only tell,
Cthulhu dreams

We left for Farshore early that morning. The sun seemed to jump into the sky as we instantly moved further east. In less than a minute we were back in Farshore. Those seemingly endless hours of study now felt completely worth the sacrifice. Now that I had the awesome power to teleport I could travel almost anywhere in the world. I couldn’t help but glance up at Oerth’s moons Celene and Luna in the early morning light and wonder if one day I might walk on their faces.

We arrived in time for breakfast. I was anxious to see if I could find a seat next to Lavinia to talk about my plans and her run for office . . . but James caught me before I could find my way into the dining room.

“Did you find me some swords?” he asked, like a kid anxious for a new toy, “magical swords like I asked?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to step past him, “two magical broad swords like you asked, and they’re even part of a matched set.”

“Can I see them?” James asked, and I knew I wasn’t going to get by him until I dug his new swords out of my haversack.

Grumbling I pulled off my backpack and pulled out the two pink swords for him to look at, I watched as disappointment quickly registered, and I cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me . . . just daring him to complain. He glanced up at me, as if to say something, but then he caught the look on my face and he quickly flashed that crooked smile that I suppose he fancies woman like.

“Thank you Tristan,” he said, quickly focusing back on the swords, “they look like high quality weapons,” he wisely said, “I think I could wrap something around those scabbards and hilts.”

I quickly pushed past James and into the dining room only to discover that I was already too late. Fredrick had chosen to sit to Lavinia’s left and Telda sat to her right. Telda was an old family friend, and unless I misjudged her, probably thought of Lavinia as a daughter. I couldn’t help but wonder what Fredrick was up to though. I glared at him as I sat down but he seemed oblivious.

“Tristan,” Lavinia the moment she realized that we’d returned, for a moment I thought she might rise to greet us, but by the time she’d spotted us I’d already sat down, and standing again for a proper greeting would seem awkward. “You’ve returned! I trust this means your magic didn’t fail you?”

“Nope,” Kiki said, “she’s a real valuable member of the team now. She can get us back to Sasserine whenever we want. Too bad it takes a day to do a round trip. We could make money off of this somehow . . . Kiki’s delivery service or something . . .”

“Well I’m glad your trip was a success,” Lavinia said with a smile, “we’ll need whatever supplies you can bring from Sasserine. We’re dangerously short on metal supplies amongst other things.”

“We can guarantee overnight delivery,” Kiki said, “Trust Kiki’s delivery service when it absolutely has to be there overnight.”

“Perhaps you should fill your friends in on last night’s news,” Telda said, “They’ll want to hear this I’m sure.”

“Right you are,” Lavinia said looking to me with a wink, “Last night the council had an emergency meeting, it seems that the members are tired of the bickering and uncertainty that having no clear leader is causing. Manthalay has been the de facto leader of Farshore sense my parents returned to Sasserine for supplies, and he’s been a competent leader thus far, but with attacks looming and my return there is some question as to who should lead the town as we face our greatest challenge yet. The town has decided that there needs to be an election. In a few short weeks the town must choose between Manthalay and me.”

“This is why I’m here,” Telda said, “to discuss campaign politics, your companion Fredrick here has already offered his services.”

“Why the wait?” Kale asked, “If the town is so desperate for a new leader why not hold the election now?”

“An election right now would favor Manthalay,” Telda said, “he hasn’t exactly endeared himself to the townsfolk, but in times of war most people prefer to go with the devil they know rather than the one they don’t. Lavinia needs all the time she can get to show the people of Farshore who she really is. Manthalay will naturally use this time to try and lock up the election. There are many in town who’re still loyal to the Vanderboren name but it’s going to be an uphill battle. The good news is that most of the people in town seem undecided and that means that Manthalay isn’t as strong a leader as he thinks he is, but he has shown himself to be a formidable warrior and when he needs to be he can be quite authoritarian, and with war looming that will make him an attractive candidate. Lavinia is very much like her mother, smart and strong, but sadly Lavinia doesn’t have a husband to lean on. They’ll want to see a strong war leader . . .” I didn’t like the way she was looking towards the men at the table . . . like she was planning on hooking Lavinia up with one of them for the election.

“Absolutely not!” I heard myself saying, “Lavinia will win on her own merits. She doesn’t need to lean on anyone. In case the people of Farshore missed it, Lavinia Vanderboren wasn’t hiding in her mansion when the pirates attacked! She was out in the town fending the fiends off. The very idea that she’d make a weaker war leader then Manthalay is preposterous.”

“Besides,” Kale was saying, “I think that we and the Jade Ravens bring more to the table then Manthalay ever could, and we work for Lavinia .”

“About that,” Telda said, “Manthalay want the election to be secret ballet. He thinks otherwise there might be some intimidation.”

“We would never . . .” Kale retorted.

“But that’s not important,” Telda correctly pointed out, “by suggesting that you might do it, the people are left with the feeling that you might have. It makes people think that Lavinia may have hired ruthless mercenaries.”

“He just trying to score as many points as he can before the election starts,” Fredrick said with a shrug, “to make us all look like cold blooded mercenaries. He wants as much of an advantage as he can, but no matter, he’s got a soft underside that we can exploit as well. His families got a rather bleak and unsavory reputation, and with Avner here I’m sure we’ll find a way to use that to our advantage . . .”

“Avner can be remarkably charming when he needs to be,” I reminded Fredrick.

“But given time . . .“ Fredrick tried to say.

“We might not have time,” I reminded Fredrick, “we have people to meet and places to be, besides, unless Manthalay is a complete dullard, he’s going to keep Avner’s exposure to the general public to a minimum.”

“We need to let the people know Lavinia then,” Fredrick said with a shrug, “I know some are already in her camp because they support her family,” Fredrich said with a nod towards Telda, “and I believe that others are just opposed to Manthalay, but as to the rest . . .”

“Those are the people we need to win over,” Telda said with a nod.

“Then how shall we proceed?” Lavinia asked, her face told me that she already had a plan, but was waiting to hear the other’s council.

“You need to show how you’re different from Manthalay,” Telda said, “I’m sure many of the people here think all nobles are alike.”

“A plan,” Fredrick offered, “something long range, and not just for war. People like to see planning and ideas.”

“People also like presents,” Kiki said, “and beer, if you give away enough stuff . . .”

“We’re not bribing the populous!” I snapped. Kale clearly shared my sentiments.

“I don’t quite get this politics stuff,” James said, “I suppose the next thing you’re going to say is that we can’t just drive the Meravanchi’s out of town.”

I glared at him.

“Fine,” he said with a dismissive wave, “if you want to fight fair and everything.”

“Manthalay won’t fight fair though,” Fredrick reminded everyone, “and any slight or underhanded tactic he’ll likely try to exploit and amplify to look the victim.”

“What’s your point Fredrick?” I asked.

He shrugged, “I just thought I’d remind everyone who we’re dealing with.”

“So what do we do when we’re not here then?” Kale asked, “I’m going to bet that that’s when the snake will make his move.”

“That we can’t do anything about . . .” I started to say, then I remembered that we still had allies in town, “but I think we could get some people to run interference and hopefully on the Meravanchi campaign.”

“Who?” Kiki asked.

“I’ll give you a hint,” I said, “she’s about 5’ and knows more cuss words then you average three fingered mill worker.”

“Amella?” Kiki laughed, “What’s she gona do?”

“She’ll take Avner strait out of the equation.”

“She’ll kill him,” James said, “I mean literally. You leave her to deal with Avner and she’ll have her hands around his throat and his skull bouncing off the cobble like a monkey trying to open a coconut. And here I thought you didn’t want any violence.”

“She’s far more disciplined then you give her credit,” I said, “she’s very crafty and subtle. I think all she needs to do is counter Avner, perhaps with her around rattling his cage he’ll show his true colors, and if not, she’ll at least hinder his efforts. That leaves Manthalay, and I know Lavinia can hand him all on her own . . .”

“All right then,” Lavinia said with a hint of a blush on her cheeks, “I think we’ve made excellent progress this morning, let’s all have a bite to eat and get to work. Telda, could you stay after breakfast so I can run some of my ideas by you?”

“Of course,” Telda said.

“Fredrick would you mind stopping by for lunch,” she asked, “I’d like to discuss my campaign strategy with you.”

“Of course,” Fredrick said.

“And Tristan,” Lavinia said looking to me, “could I show some of your drawings around? I know some of them are still in the rough stages, but I’m amazed at the ideas, and I think others will be as well. I want to build everything you’ve designed. I want your vision of Farshore to be part of my vision.”

“I’d be honored.” It was all I could think to say.

There was little else to report for the morning sadly. I over saw the foundation of the second base and watched with pride the timber walls were added to the first little structure giving it shape. That would eventually be the winch house. One day I hoped it would be made of stone, rise over fifty feet, and house a great burning lantern that would light the narrow harbor in storms and darkness, but for now I was happy to see wooden walls that would shield defenders as well as the winch.

For lunch I joined Lavinia and Fredrick. They were quite busy discussing politics, and although I’d have loved to have joined them, I decided to best to hold off and let Fredrick advise her. He was the expert.

I decided to check in on Churtle in the afternoon. She was busy sharpening bamboo shoots that some of the villagers had brought her.

“What are these for?” I asked Churtle, sitting down beside her and aiding her however I could, “These don’t really look like they’d kill anyone.”

“They’ll goes through thin boots,” Churtle churped, “and rips up bare feet real good.”

“Are you poisoning them?” I asked.

“Why?” Churtle asked, looking momentarily confused, “you thinks I should? This be real simple trap. Its designed to stops a charge. Nobody wants to run up a beach with these in the sand! It gives snipers slower targets to hit. Poison makes them sick but it takes a powerful poison to kills them. Better to use arrows then poison. Faster and simpler, sids, might take longer to brew enough to coats the sticks then it would to build the traps.”

“Makes sense,” I said, “you got anything else planed?”

“Yep,” Churtle said with a toothy grin, “these pirates will be very sorry they try to attack this town.”

“Are you going to share anything more?”

“Nope,” She said with another grin, “the boss will have to wait like everyone else.”

I spent the better part of the afternoon drawing. It felt strange to have so much free time. I tried to put my energy into something constructive, like drawing up towers and gates, but for the most part all I did was draw submarines and flying machines, and castles in the sky. My submarine saw a few improvements, namely a manual air circulation system that could, in theory, extend the breathing air for another hour or so. When the thoughts of circulating air struck me I imagined an air ship, made out of Wee Jas only knows what, that would be able to take air, heat it, and then rise and propel itself with the newly created hot air. Then I thought of Ruja, the island that was really only accessible via magic or flying machines, and I imagines a fabulous castle that I could construct there that would appear to cling to the very cliff face. Building anything on Ruja would require cranes and lifts that (to my knowledge) didn’t exist anywhere in the world. It would be very much like building in the sky.

At supper I gave Lavinia some of my drawings (only the practical ones) but she was very busy looking over reports and expenses, so we really couldn’t spend much time chatting. Tomorrow we’ll need to return to Sasserine, there was still tons of Supplies Farshore needed, and traveling such a distance was very taxing.

Tomorrow I return to Sasserine,
Cthulhu dreams.

Its funny how having purpose and goals energizes me. I woke with the sun and prepared my spells before Churtle left to check on breakfast. Knowing that Lavinia was alive and well was a huge weight off of my shoulders . . . even the threat of the Crimson fleet could do little to dampen my spirits.

After breakfast I asked everyone to assemble in Lavinia’s study. Our entire group (plus Lavinia herself) crowded into the small study. I had my notes from yesterday’s meeting (plus some of my own ideas) and I needed this small meeting to organize an attack plan.

“First and foremost,” I said once everyone was assembled, “we need to formulate a plan of attack and figure out how we’re going to solve all of these problems. We need to repair the Wyvern but first we need supplies, we know we need reinforcements but if don’t have time to run all over the island, and so we need to plan one excursion that’ll allow us to visit everything we need to without any double tracking. Fredrick I’ll leave that to you. Next there’s the business of repairs and upgrades around town, I might be able to design and over see these upgrades, but I’ll need workers. Lavinia could you find me some hands?”

“Of course,” she said, “that shouldn’t be a problem, and I can even use town funds to pay them.”

“Training militia,” I said looking over my check list, “who can volunteer to do that?”

Fredrick, James, and Kale all seemed egger, and truth be told, none of them were qualified to do much else, but there needed to be a clear head to the training department so I decided to put James in charge.

“Why James?” Kale asked, perhaps upset that I choose James over him.

“Because you and I have business in Sasserine this evening,” I said, “and Fredrick needs to devote some of his time into politicking for Lavinia. – Speaking of that,” I said turning back to Lavinia, “we need to arrange a meeting with Manthalay and discuss how we’re going to run this election.”

“We haven’t even discussed it yet,” Lavinia said, “if I move to quickly it may seem that I’m too anxious.”

“And that’s never good,” I said agreeing with her, “then you need to invite town council members over to discuss the construction efforts . . .”

“And then quietly lead them to the idea of an election and then letting them think it was their idea,” Lavinia said, easily guessing my suggestion. I felt a tad embarrassed for having had thought to advise Lavinia on political matters, but she clapped her hands and laughed, “It’s a wonderful idea Tristan. I think I can make it happen and I already know how to start.”

“Improvements to the temple . . .” I said trying to move onto the next item on my agenda.

“Wait a second,” Kale said interrupting, “you’re moving too fast! You just said that we have business in Sasserine but how the hell . . .”

“Teleportation,” I said, “magic, something I’m going to try out for the first time so I’m going to take only strong swimmers.”

“You can get us back to Sasserine?” James (amongst others) asked excitedly.

“Let’s do try to stick with my itinerary please,” I said not wanting to get off track, “all questions will be answered, and likewise, all answers questioned. Now as I was saying the temple needs to be improved . . .”

“If you can teleport why don’t we just fetch reinforcements from Sasserine?” Kale asked.

“Buffy, could you look into that?” I continued, ignoring the constant interruptions, “and perhaps you could also have a look at the infirmary?”

“I can do that,” said our cleric of Pelor.

“Churtle,” I said turning to my cook and companion, “in some of the books I’ve read it says that kobolds are very good at laying traps . . .”

“When can we talk about this teleport spell?” James asked, “I think we could all use some supplies from Sasserine.”

“Yeps,” Churtle said (doing as I often do) and ignoring James, “we kobolds is very good at making traps.”

“Then could you look into somehow trapping the beach?” I asked, “I imagine sand is very difficult to work with but could you see what you can do?”

“Yep,” Churtle chirped, “can do boss.”

“Orlani . . .”

“The Teleport is the last thing on your list isn’t it,” snapped Kale, “you purposely seeded it early in the conversation just so you could not talk about for the next ten minutes!”

I turned to look at Kale, mainly to show him that his interruptions weren’t being appreciated. He simply shook his head.

“Now Orlani,” I said after a suitable pause, “I know you know a fair bit about sewing . . .”

“Rope work as well,” James happily added . . . as if I was interested in their sex life, “and carpentry . . .”

“Yes very good,” I said trying to cut him off, “would you mind seeing if your expertise could be useful somewhere in town? I’m sure a good deal of the work force here is made up of layman. Check around and see if you can help anywhere please.”

Orlani seemed a bit shocked at the prospect but James just laughed, “The town’s not very big, I can ask around for ya luv . . .”

“And last but not least . . .”

“Teleportation?” James and Kale asked.

“Kiki,” I said over the collective groan of the others, “I need you to go over our odds and ends that we want to sell in Sasserine, then find out what we need to buy, I’m thinking shopping list, and then check with Lavinia and see what Farshore needs. Nothing too heavy because my magic is limited.”

“Ok Tristan,” Kiki said with a sly wink, normally the naturally inquisitive halfling would have been dying with curiosity along with the men, but I foresaw this and explained to Kiki everything I planned to talk about last night, “want me to check with everyone?”

“Yes,” I said, “see what we keep, what we sell,what we buy, and what we take back to upgrade. I don’t want to stay in town for more than a week so keep that in mind when we get back to Sasserine. Ok, that’s this morning’s business, now in the afternoon I’m going to attempt to teleport back to Sasserine. A teleport spell has a limited range . . . about nine hundred miles, more experienced casters can stretch this distance, but seeing as I’m still relatively young and inexperienced, I’m not going to push these limits. Now seeing as we’re just less than 1800 miles from Sasserine (as the crow flies) I’m going to have to transport us back in two jumps. Fortunately I foresaw this problem on the trip over, and thus I prepared for our eventual need, however there is some risk involved. The first jump will take us to the isle of Ruja, the second back to Sasserine, but with each jump there’s the possibility of being either long or short . . . and in the case of Ruja that most certainly means ending up in the ocean.

“The other problem with the teleport spell is that I’m not going to be able to take everyone with me, I have limited capacity, as of right now I think I can only manage 3 people. For this first jaunt I’m taking Kale, Kiki, and Buffy. Buffy because she can use her priestly powers to allow us to breath or walk on water, Kiki because she’s our quartermaster, and Kale because he can carry a lot of stuff. We’ll leave here just after lunch and try to return just after breakfast tomorrow morning. Are there any questions?

“No?” I said before anyone could interject, “good let’s get too work!”

First thing Churtle and I did was visit the shore. I was very much intent on improving the port. The mouth of Farshore harbor almost looked like a miniature Sasserine. I intended on using the design of my birthplace as inspiration for the defenses of Farshore. Lavinia had supplied me with the basic tools I’d need: paper, straight edge, compass, and even a portable writing desk. Churtle on the other hand paced the beach, judged the high tide water mark, and then took several practice runs at the town from the beach . . . perhaps imagining herself as a pirate and guessing the most optimal pillage route. By the time the first members of my work crew began to show up I’d already started the basic lines of the harbor mouth. My initial design was exceedingly simple: platforms along the cliff faces would serve as sniper positions, two squat towers would sit on either side of the harbor mouth (mimicking Sasserines’ two great fortresses), and my own personal touch: bars and chains beneath the harbor mouth which could be raised to halt entry into the harbor. The wench house would sit in the eastern tower. I began to explain my grand vision to my work crew but they seemed uneasy . . . perhaps my enthusiasm made them uneasy? Instead of explaining everything to them I gave them their tasks and set them to work. I showed Churtle my designs instead. She was suitably impressed.

Time passed quickly. I was scarcely aware that it was lunch till Churtle began pulling on my arm. I’d spent much of the time drawing. I’d planed an impressive 3rd stage keep and lighthouse, my calculations had that at two years off, but the 1st stage would hopefully suit our needs. I found that I needed to give my crew very few orders. The actual construction I left to the carpenters and masons, all I needed to do was explain my vision and direct the flow of people and supplies, but this too was time consuming and far more difficult then I’d initially thought. I made a few mistakes at first (I got the masons and some stone out before we had a wooden frame up) but running a construction project wasn’t all that different from running a ship. Tomorrow would go better for sure. I left the crew to finish the frame and base. Tomorrow we’d start erecting walls.

I joined Lavinia for lunch. It wasn’t the finest fair, just fruit, cheese, flat bread, and water. And we weren’t eating on fancy china, or in a great banquet hall, but sitting next to her I felt like a queen. Lavinia asked about my progress and I found myself speaking of all my plans, the spiraling towers, the great lighthouse, the chain house, the sniper platforms which could later be staging points for any number of construction jobs on the stone cliffs. She seemed genuinely interested in my plans and seemed very excited when I showed her my designs:

“These are absolutely beautiful Tristan,” she said, “and so unlike some of the other buildings I’ve seen outside of Sasserine, these structures, especially the lighthouse, they have such eloquent curves to them, almost feminine . . . do you think you can really build them?”

I found myself blushing like a school girl, she saw what I’d hoped she’d see, “Yes, over time,” I said, “once we get the proper tools, experienced workers, and magic at our disposal, but for now I’m just working on the squat little chain house.”

“Do you think it’ll be enough to stop the Crimson Fleet?” she asked rhetorically. We both knew that it wouldn’t, the chains would only slow them down, but I had other plans and I knew that Lavinia just wanted to hear them.

“Now, now,” I said, “I think your fishing for more plans out of me, and it won’t due, if I tell you all my plans today what will we talk about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Lavinia slyly asked.

“Yes, when you invite me over again to talk about your run at mayor.”

“Is there an election on?” she asked with mock surprise.

“No but I imagine there will be by tomorrow,” I said smiling along with her, “I expect to hear all about it tomorrow when I return.”

“Is teleportation dangerous?” Lavinia asked, a serious look on her face.

“Not for me,” I said trying to make her smile again, “I can fly! Seriously though, I know both locations, it shouldn’t be a problem, but wish me luck, I hope I won’t need it, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

“O.k. then,” Lavinia said, “I wish you luck on your journey and a safe return.”

“Thank you,” I said kissing her goodbye, “I see you tomorrow.”

Buffy, Kale, and Kiki were assembling everything we needed to take back with us when I met up with them. Most of the items I could stow away in my haversack or Kale could carry without difficulty, the only exceptions being the magical tower shield and the massive long spear. The tower shield we’d discovered on our sea voyage and been stuck with ever sense . . . but it wasn’t until we hit the oman villages (where we were finally able to buy enough pearls to identify our magical loot) that we finally realized how valuable the shield actually was. Not nearly as pricey as that crown Kale had claimed but certainly one of the more valuable items nobody was using.

“Wait a second,” James said jogging over to us, “before you go, Tristan could you pick me up a set of magical bastard swords?”

“You want me to buy you the swords?” I said incredulously as James handed me the money, “you do realize that I’m likely to mess it up, like buying you swords with pink ribbons or something . . .”

“I don’t care what they look like,” James said, “I just need some magic swords and you’re the one with contacts in the mages guilds.”

“Ok fine,” I said, hiding my elation like a pro “I’ll see if I can find two magical bastard swords.”

James stayed to watch the spell – not that there’d be much to see (even if it did go awry). I had everyone move into a tight circle then I muttered a few words and suddenly we were standing on the cliffs of Ruja! I blinked. I’d somehow forgotten to be nervous casting my new spell. The others looked around in amazement. The Cliffs of Ruja were as impressive as ever. I gave my friends a moment or two to take in their surroundings, and then I had everyone move close again for the last leg. I remembered to be suitably nervous this time . . . thankfully it didn’t matter; suddenly we were on the busy streets of Sasserine. I’d chosen to drop us off in the tight ally beside The House of the Dragon. It was suitably dark and always abandoned and today was no exception.

“I have some errands to run,” I said turning to my friends, “could you guys get started on the shopping, sell where ever you like, but stop by Blenak’s when you’re ready to buy. I know the owner and the store. All the magical trinkets we need can be found there.”

“Alright,” Kiki said, pulling out her list, “we’ll see you there.”

I didn’t head to Blenak’s right away, there was official Dawn Council business that I needed to see to first, and that meant seeing my great uncle. Lidu house guards were posted outside of my great uncle’s offices but inside I found his offices quiet as usual. The excitement of the Kellani incident must have died down by now, the fact that city watch didn’t guard the district representative told me that there was still quite a bit of mistrust in the air, but the fact that my great uncle Worrin’s offices were practically deserted told me that it was pretty much business as usual. I was able to gain entry almost immediately.

“Tristan,” great uncle Worrin said as I entered, “I thought you were headed to the Isle of Dread . . . against my wishes . . .”

“I am,” I said, “I arrived in Farshore yesterday, I’m very busy though, and I don’t really have time to socialize or be scolded right now, but I’m sure you can express your displeasure and disappointment later. When’s the next scheduled meeting of the Dawn Council?”

“Next week,” He said raising an eyebrow, “Why?”

“See if you can schedule a meeting tonight,” I said reaching into my diary and passing him a note that I’d prepared earlier, “here’s an itinerary, the other members will want to hear this, and I’ll be returning the island early tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but this is short notice . . .”

“It’s not quite cause for an emergency session,” I said, “no direct threat to Sasserine herself, but I bring information about our colony and some trading partners. Now in an unrelated note I’ll be staying in Sasserine for the night am I welcome in the Lidu manor?”

“You’re not the first family member to disobey me Tristan,” my great uncle said, “leaving as captain of your own ship was impressive . . .”

“Yes, yes,” I said cutting him off, “and I’m sure had I followed your wishes I’d be a master alchemist by now, and not just some lowly conjuror of the 5th sphere, but I’ve made my choices and now I must live with them. All I want to know is am I still welcome under the Lidu roof?”

“Are you finished?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, remembering who I was speaking too, “I’m sorry I just don’t have the time for a lecture right now.”

“Perhaps if you’d remember your patience once in a while . . .”

“Forgive me,” I said, “I promise I’ll try to listen . . .”

“Tristan Lidu!” great uncle Worrin roared, “you cut me off one more time and I marry you off to a pig farmer! Now, as I was trying to say you’re not the first family member to disobey me, but you are the first that’s actually surprised me. You have too much of the old blood in you, you’re too rash, hot tempered, and bold. Far too many of our ancestors have died because of our adventurous blood. The hills and mountains around Sasserine are sprinkled with the tombs of our forefathers. You are smart, talented, and strong. I tried to shield you from what you might become because I wanted you to live and rise to power, but now that you’ve tasted life and danger I know that a desk job like my own will never have any appeal for you. You haven’t disappointed me. But I’d hoped to shield you from danger. Now I think there’s little I can do except to pray to the Ruby Sorceress to keep you safe. You are welcome in the Lidu manor . . . don’t spread tales of adventure to our children though. I want to give them normal lives.”

There was little I could say to great uncle Worrin after that. I apologized for being so curt with him and thanked him for his time. I promised that I’d return to his offices later so that I could brief him on the particulars of my news before the meeting. Then I scampered out of his offices. I’d been harboring these feelings that my great uncle had been holding me back for some reason for some time now. I couldn’t quite put my thumb on it but I’d come to see him as being against me . . . now I find out that he might have been protecting me instead. I felt like an ass. I quickly made my way to Blenak’s. I could only hope that I didn’t embarrass myself here as well.

Blenak wasn’t behind the counter when I entered. His new apprentice eyed me suspiciously as I entered, he was following his master’s instructions well: “don’t trust anyone”, he’d always told me. Be suspicious of anyone that looks like they don’t have any money and even more suspicious of those that look like they do. I wondered how this lad saw me? I say lad, he was my age, perhaps older, but he was working my old job and that made him my junior.

“Where’s Blenak?” I asked, “if he’s in I’d like to see him.”

“Blenak is very busy right now Ms,” the lad said, which was code for Blenak didn’t want to be bothered dealing with the customers, “maybe I can help you instead?”

“He’s not napping is he?” I said smiling; I can’t remember how many times he’d asked me to mind the front counter just so he could take a nap. “Or is he expecting a chatty customer? I never could understand how a man could run a business and hate dealing with customers that much.”

“Excuse me?” the lad said, obviously wondering who I was, seeing as I knew so much about his boss.

“Just get Blenak,” I said, “tell him his former lab monkey is here to see him.”

That must have sparked something in the lad’s brain, he quickly retreated into the back room and up the stairs (which meant it was research that Blenak was up too), and moments later Blenak join me in his store.

“Tristan,” he said with a strangely warm voice, he surprised me by coming out from behind the counter and hugging me. This was something new. Blenak had never hugged me before. “It’s been months. I’m so glad you’re safe! But why are you here? You could have only arrived on the Isle of Dread about a week ago how are you back so soon?”

I opened my mouth to respond but he gasped.

“Wait, don’t tell me,” he said, “you’ve learned teleport? So soon? Still there’s no way you could have gotten here in one jump, you’ll have to tell me all about it.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Blenak?” I asked.

The old man laughed and adjusted his glasses, “you see,” he said turning to his new assistant, “this is what a good assistant looks like. She’s smart, funny, and get’s things right the first time. You on the other hand . . . bah, go mix up some orders. I’ll look after my favorite customer.”

“Speaking of that,” I said glancing up at the twin swords hanging over the lab door. I have no idea when Blenak acquired them or why, they’d been in the shop as long as I’d remembered, and I’d heard many times that they were in no danger of selling anytime soon. They were beautiful swords, Ivory handles with silver inlay on the hilts. Two lovely female figureheads sat on the pommels and the wonderfully elegant curves showed that these swords were designed by a master. They were also very, very pink. From the handles to the scabbard pink was a strong motif in the swords design. I think it might have been possible that the metal in the blade itself might have been somehow dyed to have a faint pink tinge to them. The weapons were a matched set, and had obviously been designed for a woman, but what kind of a woman would be powerful enough to wield two massive swords? They were beautiful pink twin blades, around the shop we called them the ladies, and nobody ever thought they’d sell . . . until now. “I think I’ve found a buyer for the ladies,” I said. Blenak simply blinked with surprise.

Kale, Kiki, and Buffy joined us after a while. By this time I’d bought everything I’d wanted to buy and shared with Blenak some of the tales of our journeys. He seemed suitably impressed with my exploits and that pleased me to no end. By the time my companions joined us it was growing late. So after our shopping was finished we had to bid the man adieu. I wanted to stay longer but we simply didn’t have the time. From there we went to my uncle Worrin’s offices. We rode in the family carriage back to the manor, there great uncle Worrin made arrangements for me and my companions to stay the night. I asked Kiki and Buffy to wait for us at the manor as I didn’t think they wanted to be part of the boring old meeting. Neither objected.

“Why do I . . .” Kale started to ask, but then it seemed he answered his own question.

“Because someone has to inform the council of the defenses,” I snapped, hoping to defer my companion’s questions, “and I don’t doubt they’ll want to hear from a warrior.”

Honestly I don’t know why he wanted me to keep it a secret if he’s going to practically blab it to everyone!

It grows late . . . long story short I told the council of our journey south, of Rowyn, of con man Conrad, of the cultists in Fort Blackwell, the Scarlet Brotherhood blockade, the destruction of Fort Greenrock, our battle and destruction of Journey’s End, briefly of our struggles on the Isle of Dread, and the impending threat of the Crimson fleet. I then introduced Kale and explained that he’d sworn an oath to protecting and serving the City of Sasserine. Kale then made his pledge in front of them. The council then asked for us to leave so they could discuss things. I returned home. I had a late supper and then it was off to bed.

Tomorrow I build again,
Cthulhu Dreams

Lavinia and I are sleeping under the same roof . . . I can hardly believe it, in fact only one thin wall separates us. I’ve begin to think such thoughts. There is little time for such nonsense and girlish fantasy though . . . for now we must prepare to counter an invasion of pirates!

The day started out innocently enough, I rose at dawn (anxious to see Farshore), had a bite to eat, prepared my spells, and was soon ready to go, but our Oman guides refused to lead us anywhere till after they had breakfast. I paced the beach. We were less than 10 miles away, if we were much closer I could almost see Farshore, but it wouldn’t be until nearly noon before I could actually set foot in the distant town. I was impatient. I briefly considered using my magic to find the island the hard way . . . thankfully common sense won out.

We needed 3 canoes: there were two Omans, plus three of our larger members, plus one of our smaller members in each canoe. James, Orlani, Kiki, and I were in one canoe, Kale, Buffy, Fredrick and Churtle were in another canoe, and Amella, Avner, Tavey and Urol in the last one. It was a peaceful ride. We followed the coast till we could see the island of Farshore in the distance and then we crossed into the open waters. The water was relatively calm and our canoes were able to glide across the surface of the water. The island seemed to grow and grow as we got closer. Soon I could make out its rugged coast and it’s lush jungles. Farshore, the natives told me, was but a dot of civilization on a six mile wide island. We were soon skirting the island’s coast, before noon even, and it seemed like we’d made better time than the natives themselves had hoped for. I thought that perhaps the gods were going to show us good luck for a change . . . then we saw the smoke.

The port of Farshore was just out of sight, yet we could see smoke and faintly hear yelling from somewhere in the distance, and we instantly knew that the town was under attack. We rowed past the jagged harbor mouth and saw a terrible sight: vicious pirate were in the process of attacking the town! I spied Lavinia’s ship, the Blue Nixie, in the harbor. This meant Lavinia was here! Cold comfort when her town was under attack. Our Oman guides were reluctant to get involved but I told them to take us to the strange new ship sitting at the end of the pier . . . it was the only ship big enough to have brought the pirate scourge to Lavinia’s town. In the other canoe I could hear Buffy casting a spell (water walking by the sounds of it), I in turn cast my own spell: dimensional door. Suddenly Kiki, James, Orlani, and I were standing on the deck of the ‘Hellfish’ the pirate’s boat. For a moment the greasy filthy pirates were unaware of our presence, we prepared to take advantage of the situation, but then one of the cur happened to glance back, and suddenly the whole ship was alerted to our presence. Not that it mattered, James and Orlani were a deadly pair with their flashing swords, Kiki was a crack shot with her crossbow, and I was moderately dangerous with my magic. Moments later the ship was ours; my giant eldritch horror (a thing vaguely resembling a dire wolf) was gnawing on carcass of one of the fallen brigands:

“Smell this ship my pet,” I growled in abyssal, “find any in the city which smell the same and kill them!”

The thing let out a ghostly howl and bounded down the pier and into the town. I used my magic to take to the skies. The rest of our forces soon were charging along the water towards the shore, I used my magic to hasten our advance, and then I used more summons to scourer. To my left Kale smashed down the door to a burning building to pull a woman to safety, bellow Buffy healed a badly injured man, and to my left a laughing pirate, who was chasing a hapless woman and laughing, turn just in time to look down the gullet of my other worldly hound. I smiled as his villainy was ended with a crunch that could be heard over the howls and screams of the village. I took the time to scoop up Churtle and carry her to a roof top (where she could snipe the enemy at her leisure) before I flew over the town like a cloud of death. I rained down fireballs, rays of flame, magic missiles, and orbs of cold.

It seemed there were few problems that I couldn’t solve with my magic: church being assaulted? Fireball. Town center polluted with pirates? Fireball again. Filthy leader still barking orders? Orb of cold. Soon there wasn’t a pirate still standing . . . I didn’t do it on my own though, I had plenty of fire support from Churtle, Kiki, and the others. Within no time the pirates were routed and the village more or less saved. There were still fires that needed to be dealt with but the pirate threat was over.

“Citizens of Farshore,” I hollered, “the pirates are finished, help us put out these fires and save your town!”

The towns people were reluctant to come out at first, especially with my beasts still around, but they eventually flooded out when they found the pirate scourge defeated. Soon we had a bucket brigade going and the fires were soon extinguished . . . not that I cared, for from the far side of the village, emerging from the smoke, was Lavinia Vanderboren! She wore leather armor and carried a sword that showed signs that it had been used. I didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d personally helped defend her town. Behind her the Jade Ravens appeared. For the time being I was glad to see them there, keeping Lavinia safe. Lavinia smiled when she saw us.

“Tristan!” she called, quickly cleaning her blade and sheathing it, “When did you get here?”

“We got here shortly before the pirates started dying,” I said as I flew down to greet her, I found myself hugging her, but I couldn’t remember if I embraced her or she embraced me.

“I thought you were lost,” she whispered.

“You should know better than that,” I said, “I’m far too busy to die.”

“Kiki, Buffy, Kale, James, and Fredrick,” Lavinia said as the others joined us, “my friends, your timing is impeccable.” Lavinia moved over to greet each of them in turn, “where’s your ship,” she eventually asked, “I don’t see it in the harbor.”

“Amella docked it on a reef to the north,” I said, “to deter thieves, but it made for a rather long walk.”

Lavinia’s face showed shock, “and what of the rest of passengers and crew?”

“We’re the only survivors,” Kale said, Amella, Tavey, Avner, and Urol had joined us, “the rest died on the rocks, in the water, or were killed by the mashers.”

“I promise you I’ll do whatever I can to get your ship back,” Lavinia said.

“Hello Lavinia,” a tall bearded man said. He was well groomed and handsome, he wore mithral chain mail, and although he didn’t have a spot of blood or dirt on him, I didn’t doubt for a second that he wasn’t capable of defending himself, “who are your new friends?” he asked.

“Uncle,” Avner shouted as he quickly abandoned us for the newcomer. The older man’s face flashed something; too fast for me to catch, but knowing Avner (and knowing that others know Avner) I couldn’t imagine it was a look of joy. Hearing Avner call the newcomer ‘uncle’ marked the new comer as Manthalay. I knew nothing about him except his name, and seeing as he was a Meravanchi, that was already one thing against him. “I bring word from father, but first you must hear of my shabby treatment I’ve suffered at the hands of these ruffians.”

“Lord Manthalay,” Lavinia said in a neutral tone, “this is the group I was telling you about, the second half of my expedition.” Lavinia clearly didn’t care for him. That was another strike against him. “But perhaps we should take this discussion to the chapel. We’ll need to assess the damages to the town and the others are likely to assemble there.”

“Yes,” Manthalay said, “I’m curious to hear how badly these vandals damaged my town.”

‘Your town’ Hop-Toy said, seemingly chewing over Manthalay’s words in his mouth, ‘well its official, we’ve known the man for less than a minute and we already hate him.’

I couldn’t help but laugh. The others turned to me. “Sorry,” I said, rapidly trying to think up an excuse, “violence makes me giddy.”

‘Bravo,’ Hop-Toy said, ‘that’s something that I’d never have come up with.’

Inside the chapel everyone was properly introduced, along with Lavinia and her Jade Ravens, there was Mathalay and Avner, our crew including Urol, Amella, Churtle, and the rest of our squad. I was surprised when Lavinia introduced us:

“These are my personal heroes,” she said, I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and unworthy of such high praise, but Lavinia continued, “They’re largely responsible for the supplies and my return to Farshore. I owe them a great debt of gratitude, and now, I suspect so does Farshore. It’s quite possible that we could have repelled the assault, but I’m sure the cost would have been that much greater.”

We were also introduced to Professor Hevik Aldwattle (the man Buffy had healed earlier), Vesserin Catherly (the priest of Farshore), Telda Syren (a Botanist and Vanderboren family friend), and Ulvar Kabbanja (head of the town militia). I watched people’s reactions as we were introduced, the Jade Ravens (especially Tolin) didn’t react well to the favoritism, and I could see much discontentment on their faces. I saw that the Meravanchis were looking at us as potential obstacles now. The others, neutral factions, looked to us with mild interest. I wondered why Lavinia had chosen to introduce us in that way . . . was Mathalay such a threat that she needed us to immediately prop her up? It was the only explanation I could think of, why else alienate her other employees? Maybe it had something to do with our group itself. Perhaps being apart so long she no longer understood our group dynamics. She may have felt the need to ensure some of our group that their efforts were appreciated. This would make sense, compared to the Jade Ravens we were by far the more valuable asset, but we were professionals, and we didn’t need to have our egos stroked to keep us loyal . . . well I didn’t at least.

Much of the meeting was of little interest. There was talk about damage to buildings and supplies, number of dead pirates, and the names of the poor ten villagers that had fallen in the battle. There was also some talk about a captured pirate (I wasn’t aware any had survived our assault so I assumed this must have been one of the attackers that had ventured far into the village), Mathalay wanted to hang him, but Lavinia wasn’t so cruel. Naturally I supported Lavinia, my great uncle had moved away from the cruel ways of the sea princes, and Lavinia embodied this new compassionate path. Besides, if your goal is to make an example of him it’s best to remember that you can only hang a man once, but if you successfully reform him, that example lasts a lifetime.

With much of the business taken care of Lavinia turned her attentions to us:

“Tell us,” Lavinia said, “what happened after we separated, your journeys across the island, and how you came to save the village in the nick of time.”

“It’s not terribly exciting I’m afraid,” I said, drawing surprised looks from my companions, “we got lodged in some giant Sargasso, journey’s end the sea folk call it, the most harrowing part of that experience was drifting on a crumbling raft while hoping against hope that Amella would find us in the dark in the middle of the ocean. Then we got hit with a storm, worse than the one that separated us, just a few hours after we spotted the Isle of dread. The storm tossed us about like a ball and eventually smashed us onto a reef, then to make matters worse, we got attacked by one of those giant fish your mother wrote about, called mashers. Amella got us off the reef but we were still being tossed about by the storm, taking on water, and quickly losing control of our ship. Then we saw a beach and steered towards it. There was another reef guarding the beach unfortunately and that’s where we were forced to leave the Wyvern. Most of the crew drowned or were smashed against the rocks.

“We woke to find over half the crew dead and a few missing, then a great lizard burst from the jungle, tyrannosaurus they’re called, and it gobbled up another of our crew before we were able to kill it. Then we were forced to fight through countless terror bird attacks as we trekked through the jungle, undead and giant centipedes in the underground tunnels, and dirty rotten gargoyles on the ocean road. Then to make matters worse we were somehow discovered by a demon known as a Bar-lgura, a horrible thing, capable of all sorts of mischief as well as abduction through teleportation. He took Urol and Churtle once we found his home, an area known as the fogmire by the locals, and we eventually found his temple hidden in that fog maze and killed the stupid monkey. Then we traveled south to the Oman villages, caught a ride with the Oman from the village of Mora, and the rest is, as they say, history . . .”

“Come on now,” Lavinia said, “you make it sound so humdrum and matter of fact, but it sounds like an incredible journey.”

“It wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle,” I said trying not to overplay our adventures. Lavinia looked as though she might protest more but we were suddenly interrupted.

“Begging your pardons m’lords and ladies,” a rough fellow who had the look of a sailor or fisherman about him, “but we found something in the ship that I thought you ought to see.” He awkwardly stepped forward carrying some papers, looking to Lavinia and Manthalay, and not sure whom to give them too. Lavinia stepped forward and snatched them up before Manthalay could command them into his own hands. The seaman quickly took the opportunity to retreat.

Lavinia quickly began looking over the rough notes that formed a rough captain’s log for the pirate ship the Hellfish. Lavinia’s brow began to knit with worry then her eyes opened in surprise:

“This was only supposed to be a scouting expedition, but the captain got greedy and launched the attack before the main force could arrive. It doesn’t say when but it seems we’ve somehow attracted the attention of the Crimson Fleet.”

There was a collective gasp in the room. The Crimson Fleet were the scourge of the seas and a great burden to honest folk and traders everywhere, but even I’d never have guessed that they’d venture this far south. There was sudden panic in the room, they’d just faced down one pirate assault, and now they were learning that there was another, much larger attack still coming. Thankfully Lavinia kept her head:

“My friends,” she said turning to us, “will you help us?”

“Why don’t we just leave?” Vesserin asked, “We could have everything packed up in a week and . . .”

“I’m not leaving my town,” Lavinia snapped, “after all your hard work? You’d just give it up? After the life you’d forged? Your blood, sweat, and tears are in this town. You’d give it up without a fight? Not me. This town is my parent’s legacy, I intend to stay and fight, to the last breath if necessary, but I know that not everyone shares my passion . . .”

“Yes,” Manthalay interrupted, “for once Lavinia and I are in agreement, but we’re running blind here. We don’t even know when they’re going to attack . . .”

“Good thing we have that prisoner then isn’t it?” I said, “and to think you were going to hang him.”

“We’d have questioned him first,” Manthalay sighed, “I’m sorry Miss Lidu but your kind are entirely too soft.”

“But now he’s got some incentive to talk,” I said smiling, “and he’s got more to lose if he doesn’t cooperate, and that gives us more to work with doesn’t it? Now perhaps we should handle the interrogation, I’m sure you might think we’re too soft for this task as well, but believe me we’ve got someone that can be very persuasive.”

Kale, Fredrick, and I found the pirate ‘Lefty’ in an old shack that the Jade Ravens had converted into a makeshift prison. He was a pitiful sight, badly beaten, and possibly diseased. The Ravens had captured the man and they still felt semi responsible for him. We needed to reassure them that no harm would befall him while in our care. Lavinia had wanted to help with the interrogation, but I didn’t want her there, I wasn’t sure how this was going to go, and I didn’t want her there just in case things got ugly. I didn’t want her to have to dirty her hands. He looked up at us as we entered, if he was afraid he didn’t show it, and he seemed like a man that was resigned to his fate.

“Before we begin,” I said before my companions could speak, “I need to know: did you hurt or kill anyone?”

“What’s it matter?” he said, “You’re going to hang me either way . . .”

“I don’t recall the lady calling for your death,” I said, “for the time being you’re under the protection of my friend and patron, but that could change I suppose. I need to know if I’m dealing with a coward and murder . . .”

“I’m no coward,” Lefty spat, “but I did what I had to do to survive. Yes, I’ve killed before, but I don’t attack people what can’t defend themselves. Yea, I scared them, and I chased them, but I didn’t lay a hand on a single one.”

“I believe you,” Fredrick said, “you did what you had to do but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Tell me how you ended up on that boat.”

“I was on this bastard merchant ship, under a cruel cuss of a captain, and none of us could stand him, so we mutinied and sailed south, but a storm caught us and smashed our ship to bits on the rocks of Scorpion Isle. We decided that we weren’t going to die there so we built a raft and sailed to the south were we saw smoke. This is where my life really went to hell. We were trapped on an island run by pirates. We were forced to fight to the death for their amusement, I survived, and I was ‘rewarded’ by being made one of those beasts.”

“And then you came here,” Fredrick said.

“And then I came here,” Lefty repeated, there was a long pause, and I wondered if Fredrick was going to question him, “so what happens now?” Lefty finally asked.

“That’s up to you I guess,” Fredrick said, “as my friend said, you’re currently under the protection of Lady Vanderboren, but there’s a lot of angry villagers out there and if you don’t give us something it may be impossible for her to continue to protect you.” Fredrick added a dramatic pause at this point, “We know that the Crimson Fleet is coming, but we didn’t get much help out of the captain, so we need to know if you overheard anything, anything about this invasion. We can help you but you need to help us first.”

“We were supposed to be part of the invasion, part of the Crimson Fleet, but Peet, that’s our captain, said that the fleet wouldn’t be here for two months and if we looted the town we’d be long gone by the time they got here.”

“How many ships?” Fredrick asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How’d he get this information? Are there some contacts back at Rat’s End?”

“No, there’s no one left at Rat’s End, Peet Took everyone. I don’t know how the fleet gave Peet his orders, best not ask too many questions, but I think magic was involved. I don’t know anything else, I’m sorry but I don’t, I wish I could help you . . .” Lefty’s voice creaked with emotion, “I’m a coward and a low life cur, for sure, but I don’t want to die. Please you have to ask the lady to save me. Please, I’ll be forever loyal to her . . .”

“Can you think of anything else,” I asked, “anything, how are they getting here so fast?”

“They’re going a long way out of their way to attack one village,” Fredrick pointed out.

“Peet said that they had business on the north of the island,” Lefty said, “I remember that, because I was thinking the same thing, but Peet said they were coming here anyways.”

“I can’t promise you anything Lefty,” I said, now that I thought the interrogation was over, “but I’ll tell Lavinia that you helped us, and I think that’s worth something in her books. You’ve committed a number of sins though, and you’re going to have to make peace with whatever god you believe in.”

We returned to the chapel. The others were horrified when we told them what Lefty had told us.

“The town needs to be fortified,” Manthalay said, “and we need reinforcements.”

There was a moment of shouting and arguing, panic was in the air, but Lavinia remained calm. When much of the noise died down she stood and held up a piece of paper she had been scribbling on.

“As far as I can tell,” Lavinia said, drawing everyone’s attention, “we have many things that need to be accomplished if we are to defend Farshore. I’ve made a list of possible actions we need to take. First there’s a number of improvements to the town itself, the walls, watchtowers, and harbor obviously, but the chapel, the infirmary, and the militia itself could use upgrades and better training.

“Speaking of the militia, Ulvar, even if you get your men in tip top shape Manthalay is right, we’ll need reinforcements. The Omans to the north may be able to offer aid with people and supplies, but there are also other humanoids in the wilds of the Isle of Dread. Someone needs to travel to the village of Tanaroa and do whatever it takes to secure Oman aid. There are other peoples that we may be able to elicit help from, my mother made contact with and studied a group of creatures known as Phanatons, and by all accounts they are fierce and loyal warriors. If someone were to locate their hidden jungle village we may be able to gain their aid.

“Then there’s the problem of supplies, something as simple as rope, nails, and tar are in dreadfully short supply. The Wyvern was carrying much of this, reclaiming your ship would give us needed supplies, but would also aid in the defense of the town. As for the Tar, the Isle itself has natural tar pits; if you could gain access to the pits to the northwest of here we’d have a near endless supply to work with.

“Also,” Lavinia added, “I’m somewhat hesitant to mention this, but local rumor speaks of a race of cat like people known as rakastas, said to be extinct, but were said to be masterful craftsmen, and their skill in building weapons was said to be extraordinary. Perhaps, if the stories are true, perhaps there’s a stockpile of weapons somewhere.”

“We have our tasks then,” I said, mainly to myself, “let’s get to work.”

“Wait,” Manthalay said, “what about this remaining pirate?”

“What about him?” Lavinia and I said at the same time.

“Well . . . he’s no longer of use to us, and we can’t trust him . . .”

“I gave my word,” Lavinia said.

“And I said he had her protection,” I said.

“This won’t sit well with the people,” Manthalay muttered.

“Hasn’t there been enough death today?” Lavinia asked.

“Killing a single sickly pirate isn’t going to magically build morale here,” I said.

“Building their spirit is something that’ll happen over time,” Lavinia said nodding.

Manthalay threw his hands up in disgust, “this isn’t a ladies charity here,” he snapped, “he’s a cold blooded killer and you’re talking about, and mark my words, he will kill again, and he’ll betray us first chance he gets.”

“I had no idea that you were a mind reader Manthalay,” Lavinia muttered.

“I wonder if he knows what I’m thinking right now?” I said to Lavinia.

Manthalay left the chapel after that. We decided to move our discussion Lavinia’s home.

“The other thing this town needs is clear leadership,” Lavinia said when we were alone, “Manthalay and I have been butting heads ever since I arrived here three weeks ago. The town is getting mixed messages from its leaders. Manthalay has run this town sense my parents returned to Sasserine but I fear he may not be the best choice for the town’s future. He talks of taking over the Oman tribes to the north, trapping and killing animals for their pelts, and building wealth. I think he only sees Farshore as a personal source of wealth, and after he’s pillaged it for all he can, I don’t doubt that he’ll return back to Sasserine to retire.

“The town needs a mayor, and as far as I can tell there are really only two strong candidates, Manthalay and myself, and one of us needs to step up and take control . . .”

“Do you want to be mayor?” I asked Lavinia.

Lavinia thought about it for the longest time, carefully considering the pros and cons and the weight of responsibility this position would give her, finally she raised her head and set her jaw, “Yes,” she said, “I think I do want to be mayor.”

“Then you shall be,” I said.

Lavinia insisted that we stay in her home. How could I refuse her? There was also hot baths for the ladies (the men would have to wait).

Tomorrow the real work begins,
Cthulhu dreams

Fragments of the Lidu Diaries: journey south.

Kiki went missing this morning. This wasn’t the work of monsters but rather Kiki’s desire to stay out of our sight. I snapped at her yesterday and I think she’s been sulking ever sense. Kale shouted and demanded that she show herself . . . but she left subtle little hints that it wasn’t going to happen. Perhaps I’ll talk to her tonight, for now let her have her way, and Kale quickly gave up trying to order her out when he found that no one else supported him. Perhaps the others were concerned but I think some of the others may have grown tired of Kale trying to boss everyone about.

“Leave her be,” I said, “She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“This island is dangerous,” he said, sounding annoyed, whether that was caused by Kiki’s disappearance or by my questioning his authority I couldn’t tell. “And we shouldn’t split up the party.”

“We’ve seen signs that she’s nearby, she clearly hears you, but she’s not coming out. I wonder why? She’ll return when she’s ready.”

____
The idea of teleportation has always intrigued me. Moving over vast distances in seconds and after figuring out flight and the d-door teleportation was my next big milestone. Moving across the world and then the multiverse was something I needed to do (if the dreams were true ). Plus re-supplying ourselves and the fledgling town of Farshore would be greatly aided by my discoveries. Suffice that this task was on top of my agenda for quite some time.

I’d done some the preliminary research before I left Sasserine, some of the basic calculations on the voyage over, and it’s fair to say that this walking proved to be somewhat meditative, but ultimately our battles with the Bar-Lguras proved to be the catalyst. Prior to our battles with these damn dirty apes I’d suspected that the spell might function something similar to my d-door spell, but after witnessing the beasts’ teleport time and again I was able to fit the last piece of the puzzle together.

I don’t like to brag but I think I’ve just reached the 5th spear of spell casting, three months before my 18th birthday, and at this rate I’ll be casting from the 9th spear before I’m 20! I wonder about my
contemporaries . . . had any of them enjoyed such success so soon? I wonder if I’ll soon be the most powerful mage in Sasserine. At this rate I’ll soon be running the place.

I can hardly wait to test my new spell.

With this new discovery I can say that at least some good came out of that encounter. The grey matter I consumed failed to yield any noticeable results. My cognitive skills still seem intact. Last night I enjoyed my first dreamless night senses leaving the mountain pass. If anything I’d say the demon’s brains made everything far clearer. Perhaps I should have taken Kale’s suggestion and collected more brains . . . I mean when will I ever face Bar-Lguras again?

____
“You seem strangely quite this morning,” Amella said.

“What do you mean?” I enquired.

“Normally you’re mumbling to yourself, I’d grown used to it, but I haven’t heard a peep out of you all morning.”

“I’m sure I don’t mumble that much,” I said with a frown, it was true that I did sometimes think out loud, but I didn’t think I did it all the time, “I must have normally have long stretches when I don’t do that . . .”

“Yes it’s called being asleep,” Amella laughed, “but today, not so much as a mutter. All you seem to do is stare at nothing with that stupid look on your face . . .”

“Stupid look?” I asked, thinking Amella was teasing me.

“Yea,” Amella said, suddenly imitating that horrible vacant smile the rhyming girl in my dreams had possessed. I felt a cold chill. “Quite frankly I prefer the mumbling, seems less disturbing somehow.”

“Well if I do it again tell me and I’ll stop ok?”

“Sure,” Amella sighed, she paused and surveyed the landscape, we’d been walking through the jungle in near silence for some time, and I think the tedium was starting to get to scarped tongued captain, “If you feel like talking about it might take some of the drudgery out of this journey.”

That didn’t seem likely, I wouldn’t dare burden another with my dark thoughts, but I did spend some time talking to her about our dreams and goals . . . mainly hers. Besides our mutual desires for a bath, clean cloths, and to get back to civilization, we both wanted to continue to help and support Lavinia. Amella was adamant after I brought it up.

“Do you like Lavinia?” I had asked.

“She seems like a fine lass . . .” Amella had said.

“Ya I like her too,” I’d said, “she’s really nice, smart and beautiful, I hope she’s ok . . .”

“No doubt she is,” Amella said with a slight smile, “I can’t imagine a more disastrous adventure then ours.”

“Considering the horrors we’d faced, I’d have to say we were lucky to make it this far. Our luck seemed to turn in that first storm . . . that’s when we lost sight of Lavinia . . .”

“The lady is indeed lucky,” Amella admitted, then quietly muttered: “or you and your friends are cursed.”

“Think of all we’ve face Amella,” I said with a laugh, “I too might think that the gods are against us, except we keep pulling through. If not for the second storm, if not for having everyone thrown overboard to drown, I think we would have arrived in Farshore with only four losses, three deaths and one jettison. That by all accounts is a successful journey. That storm was a catastrophe, it’s really a miracle that any of us survived, and yet here we are . . . twelve of the thirty. Less than half, true, but far, far more than zero. That’s how many the average crew would have walking to Farshore.”

“I’ve never faced such a storm before,” Amella admitted, “and I thought for sure I was going to be seeing my husband . . .”

“But we pulled through it,” I said, “thanks to your sailing and my brilliant leadership here we are a little over a day away from the Oman lands after facing down disaster after disaster.”

I had intended that bit about my leadership to have been a joke but Amella didn’t laugh with me. Instead she stared at me for the longest time, as if judging me, much like she had during our first meeting. Finally she nodded as if accepting my words. I instantly wanted to take my words back, explain to Amella that I’d been joking, but she spoke before I could interject:

“You’re a strange woman Tristan Lidu, when we stared this whole expedition I thought for sure you were crazy, and I’ll admit there were times throughout when I strongly considered cutting my losses and trying for a different ship. I thought this Lavinia was crazy for hiring you. I thought once I knew you were crazy I’d abandon ship for sure, but for some reason I didn’t and now . . . now . . . well, now I know you’re crazy. You’re the second daffiest, sea drunken, sun stroked porpoise I’d ever met. You’re only a fraction less crazy then my late husband. Laugh if you will but I see a great deal of him in you. He was the type that’d run full sails through a reef to escape authorities. The type that’s board despite being out numbered two to one. The only difference between him and you is that he knew who he was and wasn’t ashamed of it. You’ll grow into yourself Tristan. You’ll become a lady to be respected and feared but until then know that I’d sail with you again Tristan Lidu and I’ll never again doubt the wisdom of Lavinia Vanderboren. You’re crazy, but you’re crazy like a fox. I might see if this Lavinia of yours has any more work for me. She’s got a daft eye for talent, and like you said, she sure seems lucky.”

_____
Kiki slunk into the cabin well after dark. She still seemed to be sulking. Kale stood to intercept her after he spotted her entering but he halted abruptly when he came to the line I’d drawn on the floor. He wasn’t so much intent on obeying my rules so much as trying not to look like a hypocrite after rebuffing Avner’s blatant challenge to my authority. It seemed silly, Avner stepping over the line, and I couldn’t imagine what he’d hoped to accomplish, but all he managed was to look contemptible and weak . . . especially after Kale yanked him back over the line by the scruff of his neck. I was going to suggest that Avner had forgotten his gender again or something along those lines, but seeing him man handled was equally satisfying. I think everyone’s growing tiered of Avner . . . again.

Anyways it was just as well I spoke with Kiki, Kale means well I think, but he doesn’t seem to have a soft touch with these things.

“Kiki,” I said after a few minutes, “can I see you for a minute.”

The shoal Halfling swung down out of the top bunk, and then after a little prompting sat up on the bed beside me. I pulled out my journal and turned to that dreadful night under Parrot Island. I carefully read and translated the work for Kiki (leaving out the part of doubt). It seemed as though the young Halfling, deflated at the beginning of our conversation, began to swell as I read her my diary entry.

“You saved us Kiki,” I said, echoing my diary, “You’re my hero and my friend, and you’re a very crucial part of this team, and so you must know how it pains me when you act recklessly. We could lose you, I could lose you, and then where would we be? I want you to promise me Kiki, and not like before, this time for real. I need you to promise me never to do anything so reckless again. If we have the time you must take the time and do things carefully ok?”

Kiki’s eyes were moist with tears. Her hand gently touched the page I’d just finished reading from. She looked up at me, “I promise this time Tristan,” Kiki said, “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone . . .”

“There was no permanent harm done but I fear for the next time . . .”

“There won’t be a next time Tristan,” Kiki said, “I promise. I’ll never ever cut any corners from here on in. I’m gonna be the best trap detector you’d ever seen!”

“Ok Kiki,” I said with a laugh, “I’m going to hold you to your word.”

“Is there anymore stuff in that book about me?” she asked.

“Of course, there are all sorts of things,” I said closing the book with a snap, “all of our adventures and more . . .”

“Is any of it written in common?” Kiki asked, eyeing the book with sudden interest.

“Not a single word,” I said sliding my diary into my haversack, “and it’s a good thing too, because some of those entries are very juicy and of a personal nature. Some of those entries contain ideas so strange and abstract I wouldn’t even begin to know how to translate into common. I’d dread to think of what might happen if this were to fall into the wrong hands!”

Kiki continued looking at the haversack.

“Could you read me some more sometime?” she eventually asked.

“I suppose,” I said, “I’m afraid the writing’s not very good, and I think you’ve been party to all the action . . .”

“Please?” she asked. I was a little surprised that anyone would have any interest in my silly little journal but I suppose knowing your name appeared on a page would somehow make the story that much more exciting.

“Well I guess,” I sighed, “if you’re really interested. I’m sure there are better stories out there though.”

“Ya,” she said, echoing my thoughts, “but my name appears in this one!”

_____
By mid afternoon we came across a massive set of doors in a great stone wall stretching across the narrow coast:

“These are the Oman villages,” said the strangely subdued Urol, “beyond this wall is the closest thing to civilization that you can find in these parts.”

Urol had been changed by his experiences in temple of Demigorgon, he was quiet now, and no longer seemed to possess his usual fervor for life. I’d hoped that one of my companions might console him or talk to him, but this never occurred in my presence. I of course had talked with Churtle many times, the experience had been hard on her, but she seemed stronger and more confident now. Urol seemed weaker somehow and I think his days of adventuring are now behind him. It was sad to see someone broken so . . . but perhaps it was for the best, the man was a danger to himself and others at times, perhaps if he settled down his life expectancy might rise.

The wall had guards posted. Omen guards. They looked down upon us curiously as we approached the gate. Despite the colony of Farshore to the south I’m sure our kind were still an oddity to them.

“Hello . . . people, you come from Farshore or not?” the guards asked us.

“Hello, my name is Tristan Lidu,” I said, stepping forward and speaking to them in Oman, “this is my band of adventures,” I sensed Fredrick step up next to me, “and this is my interpreter Fredrick Norington,” Fredrick, who had finally picked up Oman, opened his mouth to introduce himself, but I thought I better seal the deal while I was on a roll, “now we’ve been on the road for many days, and we hope to reach the colony of Farshore, but for tonight we’d just like a place to camp and some fresh food and maybe we could do some trading? Could you open these doors and let us in?”

The two guards were surprised that I spoke their language, not well I’m sure, but well enough to be understood anyways. They quickly talked amongst themselves.

“Where did you come from,” the fat bald Oman asked.

“We came from the city of Sasserine far to the north, across the sea, and we had hoped to sail to Farshore, but our sailing ship hit a reef and nearly sank. So we were forced to walk to across the island. It’s taken us ten days to get this far and we’re quite tired and would love a safe place to stay and to eat some fresh food.”

“Just a moment,” the tall guard mutters, then, after a fair amount of shouting and grunting on the other side of the doors, one of the massive doors starts to open. The door creeks open just over four feet wide and we squeeze through, then the team of tem Oman men pull the 50 ft high wooden door closed. Why did they need doors so large was beyond me, but they’ve lived on the island all their lives, I’m sure they had a reasonable explanation.

Inside the Oman village we met the chief and the village elders, I quickly explained to the others that the Oman being a somewhat sensible people, always had women running the village, and the Tanaroans clans, being exceptionally sensible, were ruled exclusively along matriarchal lines. The woman nodded in approval as I introduced myself as the party’s leader.

“You come from the north you say?” the chief asked, “You are lucky you didn’t get trapped in the Fogmire, it is an evil place that few ever escape from . . .”

“Actually,” I said trying to speed the conversation along, “we were trapped in that fog maze for about three days . . .”

“Impossible,” the Chief snapped, “I think you are mistaken.” She seemed highly skeptical for some reason. I began digging in my haversack.

“Fog filled jungle?” I asked, “Animals and nature not normal?” the Oman nodded in agreement, “ruled by some fiendish orangutan?” Again they nodded their eyes wide with shock, “looked a bit like this,” I asked as I pulled out the severed head, “only a bit taller?” they almost all jumped with fear for some reason, making signs against evil and to their strange Oman gods, “well I got good news for you,” I said when most of the excitement had died down, “the lord of the Fogmire is dead (as are all his allies) and the fog has dissipated. I don’t think the lords going to bother you any more, are you?” I said turning to face the head.

“No I’m not,” I said trying to mimic my dead advisory as comically as I could, “I totally lost my head and picked a fight with the wrong people and now I’m roughly four feet shorter and a few hundred pounds lighter . . .” I glanced over at our hosts, who were failing to see the humor in my duologue, and were still staring at me with the hint of fear in their eyes. “I call it the Tristan weight loss D-I-E-t. What come on? The bit kills in the Abyss.”

Still nothing. Maybe Omans have a different sense of humor then we do.

“On a somewhat related topic,” I said dropping the head and allowing it to roll into the centre of the camp, “do you have a taxidermist here? I’ve recently come into the possession of a severed bar-lgura head and I’m looking to turn it into a fun conversation piece . . .”

The villagers proved to be most helpful.

_____
After a world wind tour of the Oman tribes we finally arrived at the village of Mora. From here we’ll finally complete the last leg of our journey . . . and by tomorrow morning we’ll finally arrive at our destination: Farshore. I feel anxious tonight, and not just because I’ve spent the better part of the night identifying objects and drinking that damn pearl mixture . . . which is supposed to be an aphrodisiac, but because tomorrow I’ll be reunited with Lavinia. I know she’s alive. I feel it in my bones. Tonight she sleeps just a few miles from my location . . . I’m tempted to try my teleportation spell tonight.

I wonder how she’s faired these last few weeks? I wonder what she’ll say when she hears of our adventures? Will she smile? Will she laugh? Would she cry? I hopped not, although I could imagine her feeling pity for the poor souls that drowned. I hope the sea was kinder to her then it was to us. After the hardship she’s faced it wouldn’t see right for her to face more. I closed my eyes and imagined her face. Soon, I thought, soon I’ll no longer need to imagine.

Tomorrow we’ll be reunited,
Cthulhu dreams

The events of the last few days were traumatic. It’s behind us now. We all still live, that’s important, but I doubt that some of us will ever be the same again. Urol in particular . . .

This nightmare began shortly after we found the ruins, we spent some time questioning the zombie, but it knew little and Kale seemed anxious to destroy the thing. I can’t say I blamed him but I’m sure it was a pointless gesture.

When it became apparent that we weren’t going to travel further I attempted to cast my shelter spell . . . but it failed. I knew something unusual had happened but it wasn’t until much later I put the pieces together. At the time I guessed it had something to do with the nature of this place. We were forced to make do without the shelter. Churtle saw to a fire and supper. The others saw to the defenses. We thought the partial walls of the ruins would add to our defenses . . . we didn’t know what we were dealing with.

I was writing in my journal when the shouts of alarm came. I scarcely reached the part where the zombie spoke of his master when the beast should appear! There were three of them, one large male and two slightly smaller females, and at first I thought they were giant orangutans. They were massive beasts, standing about my height, but with massive muscles and bulk. They also had huge razor sharp claws and tusks, and I couldn’t see it at the time, but I also knew that they had six fingers and six toes on each of their hands and feet. The fiends are known as Bar-Lgura and after I identified the beasts I had little doubt that they’d been responsible for the torment we’d suffered thus far on the island. I tossed my journal aside and moved to cast.

The battle was quick but indecisive. For the most part my magic was ineffectual, my magic missiles failed to breach their spell resistance, and our warriors couldn’t seem to harm the filthy demons with their weapons.

“Is this the best you got,” laughed the largest of the three, “You’re all pathetic and weak. I’m going to tear your flesh and eat your bones!”

He spoke in common, clearly intending to send fear though the group, and as Fredrick, Orlani, James, Kiki, and Buffy slashed away at the thing to little effect, I think to some extent it was working. The beast was able to harmlessly dance through our forces and attack whomever he wanted with little retaliation on our part. Kale was only just able to pierce the beast’s unnatural hide but even he was dealing scant damage . . . when he was able to hit at all.

“I’m going to crush your bones and suck out the marrow!” the fiend laughed.

“Here,” I snapped as I sent an orb of cold straight at him, “suck on this!” The smile was wiped off his face in an instant as I was able to deal the first amount of serious damage to him. Had I been thinking clearly I would have enhanced the damage with my metamagic somehow.

“Rugna, Othimix,” He shouted to his companions in Abyssal, “Enough games, back to the lair to prepare the sacrifice!”

Suddenly the great demon ape charged straight at me! He turned suddenly at the last moment and snatched up Churtle while one of the others snatched up Urol and the other tried to grab Tavey. Of the three only Tavey was able to avoid capture, and then, to our horror, the three teleported away!

“Where’d they go?” asked Kale.

The others quickly began fanning out to try to locate our missing companions but it was a futile effort.

‘You must tell them,’ Hop-Toy grumbled, ‘they don’t know the threat they’re dealing with.’

I was still caught up on the monster’s last words, ‘sacrifice’ he’d said. Fear ran though my body, not for myself, but for my small kobold companion. She had been one of my most loyal and steadfast companions and I hadn’t been able to protect her from the beast . . .

‘Tristan!’ Hop-Toy snapped, ‘the others need you now! Focus on what you can achieve!’

I turned to the others. If I was going to save Churtle I’d need all the help I could get. We needed to save Urol as well, the gnome was annoying at times, but he’d been a loyal companion. No creature should suffer at the claws of those inhuman beasts regardless of their loyalty however, and I’d rush to the rescue of anyone captured by the beasts . . . including Avner.

“They teleported,” I said loud enough for the others to hear, “they could be anywhere on the island, anywhere within nine hundred miles from here really, but I’ll assume that they only attacked when we drew near their home. We have to get our things together and try to find this base as quickly as possible. The last thing that monster said was they needed to ‘prepare for the sacrifice’! We need to move now!”

The others didn’t argue. We quickly packed up our belongings and set off at a good pace away from the ruins. We had no real idea which way to go so we simply moved into the jungle on the opposite side of the ruins. It was starting to get dark when we spotted a set of ruins in the distance. They looked familiar, and as we got closer we discovered that it was the exact same set of ruins we had just left! There was cursing and yelling but despite our in-fighting we found that there was nobody to blame. We decided to try again, this time setting out into the wilderness from a different direction. Tears of frustration began welling up in my eyes as we spotted that same set of ruins in the distance. We decided to camp as we were all bone tiered by this point. I fought back tears as I lay down to sleep. Churtle had already been in the clutches of those fiends for far too long.

The night seemed to take forever to pass. I must have nodded off eventually because I woke feeling a bit groggy but otherwise refreshed. The others looked horrible. James and Orlani looked particularly haunted.

“What happened to you?” I asked Orlani as she shakily climbed to her feet.

“Bad nightmares,” she mumbled.

“You had nightmares as well?” James asked, sitting up beside his girl.

“Yes,” Orlani said with a slight shiver, “I was in this horrible jungle . . .”

“Me too,” James exclaimed. There were other nods and words of agreement around the camp. It wasn’t surprising that this jungle was starting to get to people. We’d spent a day in it so far and it hadn’t been pleasant, and that was before we were attacked and our friends had been abducted. Then there had been the stumbling around afterwards. The jungle had bugs, strange noises, and the trees impaired our vision. The fog reduced that visibility even further. Knowing that there were demons somewhere out in that fog didn’t help. To assume that all these fears transferred over to everyone’s subconscious would have been a long shot at best, people don’t regularly dream, and it’s rare to have similar dreams. Yet everyone seemed to share similar aspects . . . even my unusual dreams had started in the jungle! This had to be a trait of this fog covered jungle, another dimension was bleeding into it, and that dimension in turn was bleeding into our dreams.

“What about you Tristan,” Amella had asked me, “Did you have any nightmares?”

“No worse than usual,” I said with a shrug. It was true, I’d had some pretty vividly frightening dreams over the years, and last night’s was only about average. “What about you?” I asked Amella.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” she grumbled.

“What could cause something like this?” Buffy asked nobody in particular.

“I’d wager that this is more likely some sort of planar drifting,” I said without thinking, “it likely explains the shifting landscape and the unusual wildlife. We’re most likely we’re seeing things not entirely of this word, shadows really, but potentially deadly none the less. The only real question is what’s causing this anomaly?”

I knew the others were looking at me but it couldn’t be helped. I didn’t know any more. I couldn’t even tell them whether to be cautious or not, then again, I realized, it really didn’t matter. It was always far better to be cautious in this situation. We knew some of the inhabitants of this fog world were deadly there was absolutely no reason to trust anything else we came across either.

“We should try leaving the way we came in,” I said as I finished with my spell book, “Sometimes pocket dimensions don’t follow the regular laws of time, direction, and space. If we leave opposite the way we came in we might find ourselves in a new location.”

There was a bit of grumbling but when I started off they were quick to follow. Churtle and Urol had been in their clutches for almost half a day, that was far too long, and I wouldn’t allow them to be in their grasp for one moment longer. I’d rescue them if it was the last thing I did.

For a few hours I really felt I was making progress, I thought we traveled further then we had in the past, but sadly we found ourselves walking back towards the ruins. I felt my heart drop. I thought for a moment I might start crying, I felt sorrow and frustration . . . but my emotions had been easier to check as of late. Instead breaking down I just felt empty inside.

“There has to be something I’m missing,” I mumbled, “Something I’ve over looked . . .”

“We didn’t try to the north,” Buffy said, “maybe that’s the direction we need to take?”

It couldn’t have been that simple (but it was). At the time I was out of ideas and was willing to try anything. It seems funny when you think about it, all my education and learning, and I was as useless as Kale. Seems this pocket dimension follows no discernible rules or logic. Perhaps this is what the visage meant about me thinking with my brain . . .

We trudged through the jungle again, everything looked similar to me, and I half expected to stumble across the same ruins at any moment. I practically sighed with relief when I saw the two leering baboon heads carved into the rock in the distance. As we drew closer we could make out the vague outlines of great wall of rock behind. I could sense fear in the others as we drew close . . . something unspeakable emanated from those horrible heads. I knew our companions would go no further.
“Tristan,” Amella said with a shaking voice, “I . . .”

“Amella,” I interrupted, cutting her off before she was forced to ask to stay behind, “you Avner and Tavey wait here. Stay out of sight and watch this path. We’re going to leave the food and water with you. Try to ration it. If we don’t . . .”

“If you don’t return before nightfall we’ll make due,” Amella said cutting me off, “If you’re not back in 24 hours we’ll try to . . .”

“Bah!” I scoffed, “This beast won’t take that long, but yes keep those plans in mind. We’re not going to let them hurt anyone else.”

“Save Churtle,” Amella said, the gleam of tears in her eyes, “save that ridiculous gnome as well.”

“No worries Amella,” I said, “it’s the demon what should be worried, for there are no more fearsome beasts on this island then the former crew of the Sea Wyvern, and when we find that beast we’re going to rip him limb from limb.”

Amella smiled and nodded. I felt the venom creep into my words. I meant what I had said. I knew the hatred and cruelty that churned in my Suloise blood would demand swift brutal justice, and my mind knew that these creatures probably couldn’t be reasoned with, but some small part of me still hoped for something . . . a peaceful resolution? Probably not, but something. Amella, Avner, and Tavey moved into the brush and hid. The rest of us turned to the great baboon heads.

“What are they?” I heard Kale ask.

I regarded the carvings. My knowledge of primates was limited but something tickled the back of my brain. Did baboons really have teeth that large? What of the sinister or malevolent look to the eyes? They didn’t carve statues like this for ordinary animals . . . perhaps they were some kind of Oman gods?

‘Perhaps,’ croaked Hop-Toy, “they were meant to represent one terrible beast or demon? Remember what the spider lady said, “four eyes have gazed upon you and their servant seeks you out”’

I felt a shiver run through me as I turned to the others.

“After consulting with Hop-Toy I think this horrible visage is meant to represent Demigorgon,” I waited for the gasps.

“Tristan,” Kale grumbled, “please don’t say after consulting with your toad . . .”

“Why not?” I snapped.

‘Ya, you ignorant mammal, why not,’ Hop-Toy croaked.

“It just bothers me alright?”

‘Well your ignorance and intolerance bother us,’ retorted Hop-Toy, ‘and if you want to show us that you’re a complete dick please continue to ignore me and act condescending to Tristan.”

I looked to Hop-Toy then back to Kale. He just sort of shook his head and rolled his eyes.

‘Dick’ Hop-Toy snapped.

“Exactly,” I said agreeing with my toad.

We moved forward towards the heads. If the others knew who Demigorgon was they made no sign. This was one of the most powerful demon lords in the entire universe and my friends likely had no idea who he was. Perhaps it was better that they didn’t know who he was. The prince of demons was said to be a terrifying force, perhaps the others might less inclined to enter if they knew what they faced. Then again, perhaps not, people think I’m crazy but sometimes I think my companions are insane.

“Let me scout ahead,” Kiki said. We watched her carefully inspect one great baboon head then the other. The mouth of each beast had a tunnel leading deeper inside. Neither appeared connected . . . at least as far as we could see. Kiki chose a corridor and walked down it.

“Carful,” I said as we rushed to catch up, but my words were cut off by the rumble of a rock slide! The ceiling just seemed to give way. A mountain of rock seemed to fall on our little companion. I think I might have screamed. Those in the lead barely escaped being buried as well. When the dust settled there was a wall of rock where our friend was only moments earlier. There was a moment of panic, and then we all rushed forward and started desperately digging at the stone with our hands. I found I was little use moving the rock but my spells greatly aided our efforts. I increased Kale’s size, this increased his strength, the amount he could lift, and the actual amount he could carry. Kale formed the backbone of our excavation team.

We had to hurry; suffocation was a real concern, especially in these loose rock slides. In building collapses or even partial mine collapses there were often pockets of air and survivors were pulled from the rubble days and sometimes even a full week after the initial disaster, but with mud slides and loose rockslides like this, there weren’t any pockets of air. People might survive the initial disaster, they’ve pulled people out of mudslides that didn’t have a scratch on them, but without air a person’s survivability is measured in minutes rather than days. Thankfully we moved quickly. After a few seconds of digging we could hear Kiki’s voice.

“I’m over here,” she coughed, “help me, I can barely breath.”

We pulled Kiki from the rubble. She was white as a ghost from the rock dust and coughing profusely but she had somehow managed to avoid being crushed by the rubble. We were lucky. Kiki was lucky. This terrible experience only cost us a few moments of panic and frantic digging for Kiki was right as rain after a few moments. We decided to try the other entrance rather than risk another collapse.

The other tunnel seemed structurally sound. We traveled down it slowly and carefully. Towards the end of the tunnel Kiki let out a gasp, I quickly covered my head, but it was something she’d spotted on the wall that caused her reaction. A small gnome sized bloody hand print marked the floor near the east wall. It seemed likely that Urol had been here. We choose to follow the east wall (just in case it was a message from Urol that that passage led to a dead end. Literally. A skeleton lay amongst rusted manacles, it’s bones yellow with age, and grim message left as a reminder to the horrors of this place:

“No way out. The jungle is pain and suffering. Maybe it will end soon and the spirit of the hawk will take me aloft and take me from this accursed place. I beg him to take me away before I’m dragged to the altar of the two-faced one. There is no way out.”
There were a few more scrawled words but I choose to ignore them, they were likely written after desperation took hold, and thus were an incoherent mess. I couldn’t imagine such an unpleasant death, alone, chained to a wall, in the dark, perhaps starving . . . I couldn’t help but shudder.

We kept to the east wall. We discovered that it connected to the back end of the collapsed tunnel. We watched the ceilings as we advanced in case there was a danger of further collapse. Thankfully everything seemed safe. Further along the tunnel we discovered Urol and Churtle’s belonging strewn about the floor of the tunnel. It appeared as if the beasts had simply ripped all their belongings from them. I quickly collected everything we came across and put it in my haversack. I did it not only out of necessity, but also to remind myself that my friends would need these things again. This was a rescue not a recovery.

The rough stone cavern soon turned to smooth carved stone. Ahead a vile set of doors, depicting humans being tormented by demons, which was flanked by a pair of ginning monkey heads, their tongues dripping blood which vanished a few inches before the floor. The statues had writing hidden and intertwined within their gruesome faces, Kiki pointed them out to me, and I translated for her and the others. The statue to the right said ‘give of the right’, the statue to the left said ‘give of the left’, and each of the doors had a demon with a large barbed tongue that could serve as a handle for a door.

“What does it mean?” Fredrick asked, reaching for the doors, “we just grab the handles and turn?”

“Wait,” I warned the others, “The left entrance was trapped; perhaps the right door is also trapped.”

“Good point,” Fredrick said, gingerly reaching for the left door handle, “let’s try the left.”

Fredrick let out a yelp of pain. He pulled back his hand, the tongue had cut his hand, but it had failed to open. Kale grabbed hold of right and tried to turn the handle, but this door also failed to budge, and he too pulled his hand back bloodied. There was a bit of cursing as our tension and frustration boiled over. There was some talk of busting the door down but we all eventually agreed that this might alert the demons to our presence. Kale put on a pair of gauntlets and tried both handles but nothing happened.

“Perhaps we’re over thinking this thing . . .” I muttered.

Kale pulled off the gauntlets and turned the handles. The doors opened.

“Quit thinking with your brain . . .” I whispered under Kale’s cursing.

The doors opened into a kind of blood stained throne room, there were two thrones on opposite sides of the room, two mirrors flanking a bloodstained alter, and two candles on the altar. There was no other exit. It appeared to be a dead end. We carefully searched every inch of the room and discovered no other secrets or traps . . . it was only after detecting for magic that we noticed that the objects in the room were magical in nature . . . what followed was the most excruciatingly painful hour of my life . . . as we tried solution after solution to advance to the next chamber. We lit candles, avoided explosions, caused thrones to bleed, and at one point we were even forced to fight with a savage version of Kiki! The entire time I worried about my friends. The entire time I worried about what that fiend might be doing to them. I told myself that we would solve this . . . that we would save our friends . . . but I will confess . . . I felt despair creeping into my bones.

Then, to everyone’s amazement, Kiki (who had returned to normal by this point) solved the puzzle! Two swirling vortexes appeared where the mirrors had recently been. We all tried to move through the mirrors but the sinister magic that ran this place would only allow one person through each of the mirrors every five or six seconds. There being seven of us, I knew one of us would need to be last, and so I summoned a companion to ensure that I wouldn’t find myself alone and ripe for an ambush.

When my turn came I discovered that the ambush had already occurred – but it was in the strange caves on the other side of the mirror! My companions were embattled with three Bar-Lguras! It took me less than a moment to assess the situation and then I cast a haste spell to add to our offence. Buffy cast a spell that imbued all of our weapons with holy energy. Suddenly the tables were turned on our demonic enemies. One of them was dropped in the ensuing rain of blades. The other two realized that they couldn’t go toe to toe with us any longer, one snatched Kiki, and the other grabbed James and then they both teleported away. This time, thankfully, they didn’t have a secret base to teleport too – because we were in it! We could see the monsters reappear high upon stone balconies in the rough cave roof. Fredrick didn’t waste a moment: he jumped onto my psudonatural hippogriff and tried to point it toward the balcony with Kiki and her abductor.

“High-ho gruesome away,” he called.

I quickly ordered the beast not to eat him, and instead to carry him up to the balcony and aid him in attacking the sinister ape. The monster carried out my wishes. I knew Fredrick, Kiki, and the monster would make short work of the fiend and my attention turned to aiding James, he was fighting a demon alone, and although he was a fairly competent fighter, he, like others in the group, excelled at flanking. I worried how he might fair in a one on one fight. Kale, Buffy, Orlani, and I desperately searched for way up to the second balcony to aid James.

“I found a door!” Kale shouted.

I was holding the light (my ever burning torch) and I spotted the door around the same time he did. “Wait,” I shouted, as Kale reached for the door, “Maybe it’s trapped. We won’t do James any good if we’re killed trying to help him!” Kale stopped, “Orlani Take a look at this!”

Orlani quickly looked over the door. “Looks safe . . .”

Suddenly the door opened. James, coved in blood and claw and bite marks, emerged from the other side.

“You should see the other guy,” James said in response to our surprised stares.

“Is James alright?” Kiki called down from the other ledge.

“Hey Tristan,” Fredrick hollered over Kiki, “tell this thing to fly us down.”

Three Bar-Lguras were dead but there was still no sign of Churtle or Urol. As I examined the dead demons I felt a pounding in my head <he’s not here,> it seemed to say, <the great ape isn’t here>. I looked around the cave: the place was bathed in a strange red light, a massive pool of blood lay in the center of the cave, there were two doors on the ground level of the cavern (one led to the ledge were James had been abducted too), and there were two doors leading off of each of the ledges. The strange red light seemed to filter down from the ledge James had had been on. We decided to test the door on the ground level first. When we discovered that it was locked we thought we might have discovered something, but Kiki reported that it wasn’t a particularly high quality lock, and soon enough we opened the door and made a grim discovery: the floor of this narrow dead end tunnel was strewn with bones and waste. I was happy to note that there weren’t any gnome or kobold skulls amongst the waste. There was a grate in the ceiling.

We sent Orlani up to tie a rope to the far ledge. We figured we’d explore the more inaccessible area first. After a few moments Orlani threw down a rope. The other carefully climbed up while I activated my fly spell (extending it through my metamagic rod). Kiki approached the door and quietly checked it for traps and then opened it and took a peek in . . . she returned with her face white as a ghost.

“Baboons,” she whispered, “the whole room is filled with baboons.”

“Everyone wait here,” I whispered, “and get ready to attack, I’m going to blast these things, and we’ll finish them off when they try to surge through this doorway.”

I flew along the roof of the chamber. I carefully opened the door and looked into the room. Kiki had been right, baboons, dozens of them, and they didn’t look natural. They were probably natives of this plane and judging from their sharp claws and small horns I was willing to bet that they were fiendish in nature. I prepared my spell . . . but as the words neared my lips a few of the beasts spotted me and in a heartbeat they were all screaming and charging on mass. I let loose with my spell, landing a fireball square into their mass, but I recoiled in horror when less than half of them dropped! I fled with the fiendish simians in hot pursuit.

Outside my friends swatted at the beasts as the erupted through the door, but there were too many of them, and they just swarmed over them in waves. The Baboons punched, kicked, and bit anything they encountered, and I watched in horror as the primates pulled Fredrick down and pummeled him mercilessly. Orlani, Kiki, and Buffy retreated to the far edge of the balcony while Kale and James pulled themselves free and turned to hack at the mob once more but the baboons kept coming. James was pulled down next while the others simply climbed over kale (kicking and punching him in the process). Things looked desperate. I’d sorely underestimated these animals, and for a moment I thought my friends were going to pay for that mistake . . . then an angle caught my eye. Fredrick was on the ground near the door, the others backed away from the ledge, the remaining mass of animals excited on either side of the doorway, with the majority moving towards us. I launched my last fireball over the baboons and into the room. The resulting blast expanded out onto the ledge but not far enough to hit James or Kale, and Fredrick was protected by the angle of the blast and the door frame. Suddenly the beasts were scattered and broken. A few moments later the mop up operation was complete and the baboon horde was scattered and defeated. James was able to stand and Fredrick was back on his feet with the help of Buffy’s healing.

We explored the baboon room. The smell was almost indescribable: the smell of wet fur, mixed with the reek of ammonia and excrement, and the horrible hint of sulfur permeated the room, to that disgusting mix was the smell of burnt hair and flesh was added. I covered my face. It took all of my will power to avoid gagging. The Baboons had been housed in a kind of throne room. At first glance the room appeared empty (save for that horrible haunting stench and the stone throne) but Kiki’s nimble eyes spotted scrapes on the floor near the throne. After some experimenting we resorted to brute strength to pull the throne away from the wall. Kiki darted behind the thrown to investigate.

“There’s a couple of chests back here!” she shouted out to us.

“Well be careful and check them . . .” a sudden explosion and blast of flame erupting from around the throne cut my words off.

“It’s ok,” Kiki shouted, “I’m alright. And I found a trap! I’m checking the other one now!”

We all inadvertently took a step back.

“Kiki are you ok?” I asked after a few moments of silence.

“It’s safe,” Kiki reported, “just trying to unlock it now.” There was another nervous moment or two, then we heard Kiki’s happy reply, “Holy coin!” she shouted, “Hey Tristan, we’re going to need your haversack for all this!”

The chest contained a fair amount of coin, a small shield, a wand, and a mysterious fist (which looked like a monkey paw that you find in those curios shops). I really didn’t feel right stuffing my pockets full of coins while our friends needed us, but things could go awry in the rescue process, and we might not get a chance to return to this room later. After we’d thoroughly searched this area we returned to the balcony and climbed down the rope and moved up to the other balcony.

The door opened to a room strewn with bones. Death and decay seemed to be everywhere in this temple . . . I was sick of it. Orcus would have been proud to call this temple home. Something stirred within. A skeletal snakelike creature emerged from the bone pile. Any illusions we had of civility or negotiation were immediately dismissed as the creature launched a lightning bolt strait through our group, everyone (except me) was lined for the blast. Everyone (except poor Buffy) was able avoid the damage however and everyone (except me) charged into the room. The creature attempted to charm James. Amazingly one of our notoriously week willed front line succeeded in resisting the charm. I summoned a dog like creature to aid in the fight. Inside my companions quickly discovered that this creature wasn’t as it seemed, swords passed through the bone visage and impacted on flesh, and soon the white bones that were strewn about the floor were covered in fresh blood. It had been an illusion. It hadn’t helped our opponent any though, and soon it lay lifeless amongst the bones it had undoubtedly played a part in collecting. I was happy to find there were no kobold bones anywhere on the floor.

We were in sorry shape but we moved towards the next set of doors. Churtle and Urol had to be in this maze somewhere. In the next room we found two statues flanking another door with sinister demonic motifs on it. The doors were locked, beyond Kiki’s skill to open, and not even my knock spell could force them. We did notice that the two statues flanking the doorway (more demonic looking primate statues) were both missing a hand. By chance I’d kept the iron paw we found earlier and I pulled it from my haversack and was surprised to find that it fit one of the statues nearly perfectly. Could this mean that there was another somewhere in the complex? The only room that we hadn’t completely searched was bone room. We decided to search it completely from top to bottom just in case.

Amongst the bones we soon discovered a few magic items, including a hammer (which James grabbed) and a potion that I was able to identify as a potion of haste. Suddenly Buffy, James, and I were pelted with hail and ice cold winds. I didn’t need to look to realize that sudden ice storm had come from the fountain that Kiki had been examining!

“Kiki,” I snapped through the rage and the pain, “what did you do?!”

Kiki looked like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. Perhaps I’d hurt her feelings by yelling at her, but at that point I didn’t care. Two of our friends were desperately in need of rescue and she was complicating things by being careless.

To make matters worse, James, who hadn’t received much healing up to this point collapsed under the stinging and welting hail. Buffy used the last of her healing to save James and heal most of us back to a less battered state. I was low on spells as well. In an odd twist the fountain that Kiki had been fooling with did hold the last piece to our puzzle, another monkey paw, as well as a strange copper rod in the shape of a bone. We were left with a decision, advance and hope for the best with low magic, or retreat and hope that our friends held out for another day. It was a horrible choice to make.

In the end I gambled on something that was close to middle ground. On the balcony I cast my secure shelter and we all retreated to there. I had the other take turns at watch while Buffy and I tried to rest our minds . . . naturally I couldn’t sleep, but I spent the time clearing my mind and preparing it to absorb my partially prepared spells. Some of the others, like James and Orlani, tried to sleep but were punished with more terrifying dreams.

Much to my amazement nothing happened in our downtime. The lord of this domain, the talking fiend, the great ape, he must have been pre-occupied elsewhere. His inattentiveness would be his undoing. I dismissed the shelter and we advanced on the room with the twin statues, we placed the final piece in place, and the doors swung open. In front of us stood a long corridor, more monkey statues lined the hall, and a set of doors (identical to the ones we’d just opened) waited for us at the far end. We advanced cautiously down the hall . . . suddenly the statues closest to us started howling! With the element of surprise gone we strode down the hall and prepared to bash or force the doors. I used my haste spell on my companions, Buffy aligned their weapons, I cast fly on myself while Buffy continued aligning their weapons (we have a lot of weapons), and then summoned my most powerful beast to spearhead the assault (a great wolf like creature that was as big as a horse). I flew to the roof as the other kicked in the door and surged into the room! Inside was a massive temple complex. At one end stood a large statue of Demigorgon, four demonic ape statues stood along the sides of the temple, and a great fire pit stood in the centre. Two small naked forms hung over the pit . . . Churtle and Urol were in rough shape, but they were alive. There was no sign of our adversary anywhere.

To our horror Churtle and Urol started to slowly decend into the fire pit! I sent my beast charging into the room, my companions in hot pursuit, and I prepared to fly over and use my D-door spell to transport our friends to safety, but things wouldn’t be that easy. Things happened very quickly after that point, my summons suddenly disappeared, dispelled I’d soon discoverer, a Bar-Lguras appeared further into the room, and my fly spell suddenly ended and I floated towards the ground. I was confused. I briefly considered my next move as I watched my companions attack the lone demon in the temple.

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy?” asked the great ape from behind me.

I turned casting my cold orb, adding everything I could to it, and launched it at my adversary. The demon looked surprised, as if it expected me to collapse in terror or something, and seemed surprised to find me not only resisting but attacking! The orb whistled past the great ape’s ear and caused the stone to splinter on the wall behind him. The demon’s shock was gone in an instant as was my most powerful magic. It smiled. I ran.

It probably thought me a coward. That was fine. I hoped it did. I had one hope at this point: and that was to lead this beast away from my friends to allow them the opportunity to concentrate on the lone Bar-Lguras and rescuing Churtle and Urol. I dashed down the hallway, away from my companions, and (thanks to my still active haste spell) into the chamber with the monkey paws. I saw him just over my shoulder happily giving chase, his arm extended, and nearly reaching my blood stained cape. I slowed as I crossed into the bone room (as to give him the illusion that he could catch me in a foot race) but when I turned to see where he was I discovered that he’d stopped.

“Come and get me you stupid demon!” I yelled, trying to taunt him, “I’m all helpless and weak!”

I saw his face twist in rage but instead of chasing me further he simply teleported away. I spun around, half expecting him to be behind me, or trying to cut me off, but he was nowhere to be seen. I ran back to the temple, easily clearing the distance in seconds, and discovered the fiend had indeed returned to attack my friends. My gambit had paid off though, Kiki had managed to figure out and halt the mechanism lowering our friends into the pit, and I returned in time to witness the second last Bar-Lguras drop.

Only the great ape remained. I tried blasting him with my magic but most of my spells unraveled when the touched his body. The fiend tried to jump from opponent to opponent, clearly he preferred to skirmish, but he lacked the speed to maintain separation. My companions swarmed and flanked him time and time again.

“You’re going to die you damn dirty ape,” I growled as another spell harmlessly flowed over him.

“What are you going to do bleed on me?” he laughed as he slashed at Kale and pulled himself free from another swarm, “maybe run some more?”

“No you filthy monster,” I said with nothing but calm cold certain rage in my voice that even scared me a little, “I’m going to kill you and eat your brains.”

He looked at me, perhaps a little stunned; I was clearly not the opponent he thought I was.

“All right monkey,” James yelled from the dais next, “not another move or the tentacle chicken gets it!”

James was holding the hammer we’d found in the bone room with two hands and he was clearly threatening to smash the statue of Demigorgon. The ape turned from me and snarled at James.

“You stupid biped,” it growled, “I’m going to strangle you with your own intestines.”

The demon tried to charge James . . . but this time he failed to escape our mob. He fell under a hail of swords and mace attacks.

“Do it,” I snarled running into the room towards my captured companions, “smash it to dust.”

I heard James’ hammer smash into the statue. “That’s what you get for looking so ridiculous,” James snapped, “choose an animal and stick with it!”

I glanced up at Urol and Churtle, they were well above the heat of the flames, but without my fly spell I wasn’t sure how I could get them down.

“Maybe we can use your slippers of spider climb,” I said to Kiki without really looking at her, “if I can touch them I can use my magic to instantly get them down.”

I glanced over at Kiki, she looked glum, I was about to say something else, but I was interrupted by a bone chilling howl erupted from the far end of the room. I gasped in horror. The statue of Demigorgon had come to life! James was white as a sheet, others looked horrified as well, and I don’t think it was just because we were facing a massive stone menace. That howl had to have been some sort of mind affecting magic. Fear had briefly touched my mind as well, unnatural fear, and not just sudden surprise. The golem stepped forward, swinging at James and Orlani, and threatening to advance towards our helpless friends. I summoned some beasts to throw in its way and the others surged forward to eliminate this last challenge.

Most magic was useless against constructs, but we conjurors have an advantage that most spell casters don’t, we don’t need actually need to target our opponents directly. My summons appeared next to the animated statue and attacked . . . but it failed to damage the stone goliath. The stone beast let out another howl. James and Orlani both turned to run . . . but Orlani didn’t escape the monster’s reach. I summoned more monsters, but they suffered from the same problem, they couldn’t seem to damage the thing! The creature continued to move forward, smashing anything in its way, and my summons succeeded at absorbing damage. Suddenly the golem preformed a new trick: it snatched up kale in one of its tentacle arms, and moments later, it snatched up Fredrick! Both men screamed in pain as the golem began to simultaneously crush and rot their bodies. Things were looking desperate. I suddenly remembered that crystal we’d found under parrot island. In desperation I reached into my haversack, pulled out the crystal, and smashed it onto the floor. A stone elemental rose to meet the challenge . . . but then Buffy’s mace shattered one of the golem’s legs, the thing teetered, and then toppled over and smashed into hundreds of pieces.

“Smother the fire,” I commanded the elemental. Buffy tended to Orlani and Fredrick, both teetered on the edge of death, but after Buffy tended to them she assured us that they’d make a full recovery. “Sweep the remains of that golem into the pit,” I commanded the elemental after the fire was out, “I’m going to get you down,” I called up to Churtle and Urol, “but first I’m doing something about this fire.”

When the fire was out and the hot ash had been covered by cold stone we lowered Churtle and Urol. Because their cloths had been shredded I found an old dress to wrap around Churtle and found my old blanket for Urol. They were naturally quite emotional. Urol in particular had cried and begged for help throughout the fight, and though Churtle had been particularly stoic throughout the battle, now that she was free the emotion of the experience finally hit her. I comforted Churtle the best I could.

James returned not long afterwards. He was covered in blood.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“Crushing my enemies,” James said, his face dead serious.

“How’d you get covered in blood then?” I asked.

“It’s the blood of my enemies,” he said without a hint of a smile. If I didn’t know better I might have even believed him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Kale said after he’d stripped the bodies, “we’ve saved our friends and we’ve got everything we need from him . . .” Kale said kicking the ape.

“Not everything,” I muttered, drawing my knife.

As we left the cave we were relieved to see the sun. It had been days sense we’d seen it last. The fog was gone, burned off by the sun, if only our memories of that place could be burned away as easily. As we left the caves Amella and the others rushed out to greet us.

“Is everyone alright?” Amella asked, “it the monster dead?”

“See for yourself,” I said pulling out the head. They recoiled in horror. “What?” I asked, “it’s just a head. Completely harmless,” I said grabbing the thing by the jaws, “right Mr. monkey,” I asked the lifeless head, “’you sure are right Miss Tristan,’” I said using a silly voice instead of trying to imitate the beast’s voice. For some reason this failed to put them at ease. “Churtle,” I said turning to my friend, “I hear monkey brains are a delicacy in some strange lands and they’re best served cold.”

I handed Churtle the head, and she was more than happy to get her hands on her former tormentor. “Careful,” I said, “I want to preserve the head afterwards. I think once I get it preserved I can keep knickknacks inside it, string maybe, or possibly tacks or needles.”

“Oks,” Churtle said, “as she jammed her knife into the skull just above the ear, “One order of chilled monkey brains coming up!”

I turned to the others, “anyone else want some? There should be enough for everyone.”

Strangely almost everyone passed.

“You know,” I said dipping my spoon into grayish blue matter, “monkey brains are a delicacy, and these are particularly hard to come by. I imagine this is a once in a lifetime experience . . .”

“I’ll try some,” Avner suddenly said, “some experiences are wasted on the commoners.”

Brains taste like tofu,
Cthulhu dreams

Again the dreams persist . . . this time I found myself wearing the crude skins of animals, a sure sign that I was amongst a primitive race or uncivilized people. I found myself in a small hut in some vast jungle. I remember grinding something with my mortar and pestle (perhaps I was an ancient apothecary) when I knew I needed water for my mixture. I grabbed a small leather cup stood and turned toward the pool of water behind me . . . but something in the water made me stop. The reflection in the water looked nothing like me, she was my height with similar facial features, but all similarities ended there. She wore a gown pure crimson lined with strange jewelry, almost like armor of gold and silver. Over that she wore a massive green cloak, which at first glance seemed to be made of moss and leaves, green with life and nature, but the inside of the cloak was pure grey (silk unless I missed my guess) which was stitched with hundreds of tiny runic symbols and skulls – Symbols that only became visible when the light caught the fabric in just the right direction. In her right hand she held an impressive looking scepter, which was probably a metamagic rod now that I think about it, and in the other she held a massive leather bound book. On her hip sat a scimitar and a jeweled knife was tucked in her belt (neither looked like decorations). A top her head was the Bullywug crown, more twisted and alien looking then before, and the missing gems had been replaced with living eyes that regarded me coldly. That wasn’t the most horrifying aspect of the visage though, as hard as that may be to believe, and I find my hand shaking as I think about it . . .

Her hair, braided and tied with ribbons, had gemstones with green continual flame spells on them woven into it, and it seemed to flow and wave as if of its own accorded. I slowly began to realize that somewhere within her hair another horror lurked. Green tentacles, seeming to originate from her skull, waved and squirmed throughout her hair, animating it, seemingly under their own power. I felt sick.

“Who are you?” I asked the visage. This wasn’t a mirror image and all pretenses of a dream had long ago faded away. This was a very real alien entity in my dreamscape.

“You act as if you don’t know . . .”

“Just answer . . .”

“Even after our last big show.”

“Not you again . . .”

“Not many people earn a second appearance; you seem worried, as though you fear us?”

“No,” I said trying to regain my composure, this thing, this nightmare, last time did horrible things to my mind. I could feel my composure and reason slipping away from me. “Why do you always speak in rhyme?” I asked trying to think of logical questions.

“It is an insidious key into the mind; people forget words, but seldom mine.” She said with a horribly insane grin. Suddenly she swung herself from the refection and somehow onto my plane of existence. It was like she fell backwards into the pool, only in reverse, and now she stood up right next to me. She drew closer.

“Stay away,” I said weakly, I felt powerless . . .

“Poor Tristan clinging to her mind, she doesn’t know to leave logic behind.”

“What do you want,” I cried as the creature seized me, “please leave me alone . . .”

“How could the future ever touch the past? If I’ve been honest, then explain this fast!” she said pulling me with unnaturally strong hands, forcing me towards a great black swirling void that appeared suddenly in the edge of the clearing. I didn’t know what it was but I knew I wanted to avoid it.

“You’re talking about null time?” I cried, the creature slowed as I scrambled to answer, “Traveling to the past altering the timeline from that point, and thus changing the future! Altering the past to the point where you no longer want or need to time travel in the future, creating a paradox, a time loop, and / or null time!”

“So now, let’s see; explain this conversation between you and me?”

“It’s not possible,” I squeaked. She suddenly pulled me closer to the void. “No wait,” I cried, “such an occurrence would have to have happened naturally in the time line! I would need memories of this meeting and something about this meeting would create the need for me to repeat the experience in the future!”

“A plausible answer, but far to plane; you disappoint me dear Tristan, that sounded quite sane.”

“What do you want?” I screamed.

“For to realize your first true step; and if I have to destroy you that’s what I’ll get,” I could feel the void behind me, pulling at me, and I knew that there would be no coming back from that icky blackness.

“I can’t think of any other way! It’s impossible! If you kill me you’d create an unrecoverable paradox!”

“No dear Tristan that’s not entirely true, even in the future I’m quite safe, not so for you,” I felt my hair, small strands, slip into the void and disappear . . . and strange as it might sound, I felt them go.

“But if you’re me, and you destroy me, you’ve destroyed yourself! Your own timeline ends here! Everything else after this is null time! If you’re me then you can’t possibly kill me!”

“That’s what I call a filthy old lie; your life is forfeit if you’re not going to try.”

“No wait,” I pleaded, “It just doesn’t make sense! Nothing I’ve ever learned . . .” the dream suddenly felt as though it was spinning, “a stitch,” I weakly cried, “Orlani said the only way to keep something from unraveling was to use good stitches . . .” I wondered why this monster hadn’t thrown me into the void yet.

“That was a very good guess, now little girl, fill in the rest!”

“W-what?” I gasped, “but,” I felt a strange buzzing sensation as my mind quickly began pulling at pieces of information and vague memories, “You’d need to anchor yourself outside of the normal time stream but all of the planes are linked to that . . . except . . .”

“What a tedious journey to get to this place, but I see you finally get it by the look on your face,” she said with that disturbingly vacant smile.

“But to get to the far realms, to actually physically get there, I’d need something from that plane to use as a focus . . .” My mind was reeling . . .

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to cross it, for now let’s work on something less toxic.”

“Like what,” I asked, still shaking.

“I’ve planted the seed and that’s the scope of my power, but now you must see that seed to flower.”

“What?” I asked.

“An action, quite simple and brave, you musk kill the great ape and eat of his brains.”

“What?!”

“If you must, consider this act a symbolic gesture, but you must allow his chaotic thoughts in, and allow them to fester.”

“I . . . I”

“Tristan, listen,” she said as I felt the dream slipping away, “Lidu, can do.”

“What ape?” I asked.

“Meet him, beat him . . . kill him . . .”

___________________________________________________________________________ __________

I awoke with a start. I felt strange, like something in my head or in the world wasn’t quite right, almost like something was just outside of my realm of perception, and I was only catching glimpses. The others seemed strangely normal. They saw or felt nothing . . . yet I knew something was different . . . this universe wasn’t the same one as the one I had gone to sleep in. I felt like there were things I wasn’t seeing, like tiny hair like feelers on everything, or things I didn’t perceive like objects vibrating at super high frequencies, and if this weren’t disconcerting enough, on top of all this I still had the dream and the strange paradox of time travel to mull over.

“You seem awful quiet this morning,” Amella said to me as she tied her hair back into the tight braid she preferred.

I looked at her. For a moment I considered telling her everything I’d perceived, that this thing we know as reality is built on the false perceptions of ‘time’ and ‘matter’, that cosmic forces could destroy the world we live on as we crush bugs, that everything that we see, hear, and feel might just be figments of some sleeping god’s dreams . . . that should they wake we might all simply cease to exist . . . that every point of light we see in the sky is but a window to another world and another universe . . . but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t burden another soul with the weight I suddenly felt. Nothing was normal. Nothing would ever be the same again.

“Tristan?” Amella asked, concern creeping into her voice.

I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t said anything to her yet. I struggled to remember how humanoids interacted.

‘Smiles,’ Hop-Toy said, ‘humans like to see smiles.’

I allowed a grin to slide onto my face.

“I’m fine Amella,” I lied, trying to remember how happy people sounded, “everything is fine . . .”

Amella didn’t look as though she agreed. She tilted her head slightly to the side. “You don’t sound fine. You seem a bit off this morning . . .” She slid closer to me on the bed, “are you still upset about the whole thing with Kale?”

“Yes?” I said. That had seemed ages ago, I scarcely remembered the details, but I was thankful for the excuse. I must have seemed distracted, worrying over love or feelings seemed a likely cause for distraction, and if I let her believe what she wanted to believe what would be the harm? I would need to remember how people talk and act. I couldn’t use the Kale incident as an excuse for my strange behavior for long . . . especially around Kale.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“No,” I said before she could finish the question, I saw disappointment creep onto her face, “I mean yes,” I quickly added, “please tell me about men.”

Amella laughed, clearly anxious for the opportunity to share her experience with me, and I was thankful that my diversion had worked. She leaned in close and began sharing with me all her secret knowledge of male/female relationships. I smiled and nodded as Amella explained how the minds of men worked. It seemed exceedingly simple, basic even, and the information held little interest to me.

“Men don’t interest me,” I found myself saying, “I guess I might have to marry one eventually, but until then I’d rather not have to think of them.”

“That’ll change,” Amella laughed, “a young lady often has her thoughts change to men.”

“About what age does that happen?” I asked dryly.

“You’re at that age now,” Amella said, “You just haven’t met the right man.”

“And what if that never happens?” I asked, “what if I avoid all men or join a convent or something?”

Amella’s smile faded slightly, “well you might be one of those women that prefer the company of other women . . .”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Whatever makes you happy I guess,” Amella said with a shrug, she was trying to act nonchalant, but I could tell she was disappointed, “never could understand that sort of thing myself, but I guess it happens from time to time. Few I came across were hard workers and kept to themselves mainly. I’ve heard of entire civilizations devoted to that kind of thing, amazons I think they were called, course it could have just been sailor talk.”

“I need to study my spell book,” I said. This sort of talk made me feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure why, Amella was a friend, and I didn’t doubt she knew more about this sort of thing then I did, but I didn’t think I could talk to her about this.

“Ok,” Amella said, probably sensing my discomfort, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Buffy channeled divine power to summon food and water for the day. We still had quite a bit of food that we’d salvaged from the ship yet, but we figured why stretch our rations if we didn’t have to? The food Pelor provided was rather bland; but that was hardly a complaint considering the amount of gruel and hard tack we’d been forced to eat over the past four months. At least this mush was easy to chew. From there we began our lengthy slog into the wilds.

The bugs were horrible at first. On the seaside road we’d had the odd bug, after a particularly nasty rain we had a couple of swarms of mosquitoes, but nothing like the jungle. There were flying bugs, crawling bugs, jumping bugs, and bugs that just dropped out of the trees upon you. Most seemed hungry for blood. Hop-Toy sat on my shoulder eating anything I picked off my hands and protecting my neck but even he couldn’t keep up with the swarms.

By lunch we found the swarms had died off. And as we moved deeper inland we discovered a fog bank. Fog in the heat of the afternoon sun was an odd, but not an entirely unwelcome occurrence as it got us out of the heat; however we soon discovered that the jungle that this vapor covered was even more unusual. The foliage was different here, the leaves were odd shaped, and strangely colored. The trees grew at strange angles, some had sickly looking tumor like growths, and others seemed to weep horrible pus like sap. Everything was damp. Strange bird calls echoed high above us, we caught glimpses of the odd creature, snakes mainly, but nothing lingered and everything fled at the sight of us. Urol seemed bothered by all this.

“This isn’t right,” he mumbled over and over, “none of this is right.”

“What’s not right?” James asked (as he was the closest).

“Everything, I know these plants but they’re all different, six pointed leaves where there should be eight, and that bark is the right shape but wrong color. I don’t recognize any of those strange growths. They’re completely unlike any sort of affliction I’m familiar with. Even these insects: multi colored wings, extra heads, limbs, and segments, everything is strange and not in a good or interesting way either. Some of these things I don’t understand how they can live!”

“This is the Isle of Dread, there are probably all sorts of weird creatures here,” James laughed, “you should know though! You were here before.”

“I was,” Urol snapped, clearly showing frustration, “but I never encountered anything like this!”

James wisely decided to let it drop. We continued walking but a sense of dread was creeping into our bones. We haven’t exactly had a good history with fog, starting with the fog bank at the mouth of the Atikula River, and including our horrible night on journey’s end, fog tended to bring disaster and danger. Personally I thought back to the aftermath of the shadow pearl at Kraken Cove, we witnessed strange misshapen animals then as well. Mind you, most of those creatures tried to kill us and these things seemed eager to avoid us, but I couldn’t help but feel the comparison was apt somehow.

By supper we discovered the ruins of some kind of structure. Who built these ruins, or what they might have once been remains a mystery, as no markings of any kind could be found anywhere on the structure. I didn’t examine the ruins till much later though . . . there was something else that caught our immediate attention! In the corner of the ruins was an X-frame (similar to the type the birds had been on, only much larger) and on the frame was a human body. We could tell the thing was dead from the distance, as there was a great big gaping hole where heart should have been, but as we approached the thing stirred and looked up at us!

“Welcome to my home, travelers.” It said in a horrible monotone voice, “You come a long way only to stay here forever. At least you live. That is good for now. My home is your home, now and forever.”

“What ----

The quote was for the benefit of Monsieur Set, who asked the original question. I simply quoted my source, in case he wishes to investigate further.

I tactfully chose not to repeat what was written there regarding the Suel Empire, in case it caused you, or others offence.

Authors bring their personal bias to everything, including history, but should you learn to get by this bias, then I doubt you could offer 'offense' by merely reporting the past.

It is indeed; and I regret that I may have let my personal experiences cloud my perceptions. Since being bought, like a piece of meat, by the aforementioned 'albino corpse-fondler' (a contemptible creature, who is now, thankfully, quite messily deceased), I have yet to encounter a single arcanist in this gods-forsaken dirt-bowl of a city who follows the noble, nurturing, self-sacrificing path of abjuration. Instead, if the notches on my kill-list are to be believed, the entire wizardly population of this coast is comprised of necromancers and diabolists, of one faction or another.

I accept that in Sasserine, this may not be the case, and that some, such as yourself, may work tirelessly to prevent the influx of vile creatures from beyond, If so, it would make a refreshing change of pace to spend some quality time with you some evenings (in the interests of research).

Again, no offense was taken, and seeing as you have made an attempt to offer the hand of peace, then I will accept, and we part with with no hostility in our hearts or minds.

PS: Have you ever sat for a portrait?

You look oddly familiar, but I can't quite place why.

I get this a lot actually.

I'll readily admit to being a blowhard. But only because we Baklunish have so much to blow hard about!

On a serious note, if I may quote the Living Greyhawk Gazeteer;

The Baklunish, unlike the Suloise, retained much of their culture after the fall of their empire. Honor, family, generosity and piety are fundamental virtues. (page 5)

Many skilled wizards are Baklunish, including experts in elemental magic, divination, and summoning and binding spells (used on extraplanar beings) Cooperative spellcasting is practiced by many of the clergy, particularly among the desert mystics. (page 5)

If that glowing recommendation of my magnificent heritage offends you, then I suggest you take it up with a certain Mr Eric Mona...

You mistake me sir, I don't care enough about your culture (one way or the other) to be offended, but I'm sure you have reason to be proud of whatever little blurb you can find in your precious books to justify your sense of superiority. I was merely correcting an error in your previous statement about my particular bloodline. I'm sure you didn't wish to look the fool.

As to my own blood I can offer few easy answers, we are a diverse people, but I think we can all agree that the world is a far safer place after we Suloise abandoned the dark and cruel ways of our ancestors. I can thankfully say that, for the most part, we Suloise have learned our lessens. You say that your Baklunish retain much of your culture? How quaint. Too each their own. I would never assume to tell your people to do anything different.

Set wrote:

...concrete suggestions as to how a Baklunish Wizard is different from a Sueloise one...

Well, we're not albino corpse-fondlers, for a start!

But some of you are all ignorant blow-hards apparently.

I fully expected to dream again. This dream was again different from the others. I felt completely self aware in this dream and I knew what was coming before it happened. I felt less like a spectator and more like a participant. I felt completely part of the action: It was me that sharpened the scimitar, inspected every link in the chain armor, and strung the powerful re-curved bow. It was me that strapped on the armor, sword, bow, and buckler. I was the one to prepare and saddle the horse. Not once did I marvel at the strength that I possessed or the skill and ease at which I handled my tools of war. Everything seemed natural to me, as it had seemed in the noble dream, but this time I felt as though I had free will to alter things . . . yet I never did. I was the one to turn and face the kings wife, my queen, and even though I knew in the back of my mind what she was going to say, I was quick to kneel and accept her boon.

<If you bring me the head of my brother I’ll grant you your freedom,> she said in the ancient Suloise tongue, <bring me his head so I can prove to my husband that I don’t have designs on his empire.>

<If my lady wishes it, it shall be done,> I said stealing a glance up at her, and I felt joy once more at the smile that played across her lips.

<They’ll be watching for my forces,> she said, <and my own husband’s forces might expect you to turn traitor . . .>

<Perhaps there is an advantage my lady,> I said. I didn’t want her to ask something that could have been used against her later.

<Win me this day and we’ll have united all the Suel tribes under one banner,> she said, <we stand on edge of something monumental . . .>

<The battle begins my Lady,> I said quickly rising at the sounds of the horns, <I ask Wee Jas to let me bring my lady glory, or that she let me die in her service!>

<Don’t ask such things,> she gasped, <this war could end in many ways, none good for me or our cause, and I can’t afford to squander any of my resources . . .>

I jumped up upon my horse. I smiled because I already knew the outcome of this battle. I found my troops waiting on the hill; they looked egger, which was good, because today I’d lead them straight into the gates of hell. I knew that I’d survive to earn my freedom, but many of them wouldn’t, and they would die not knowing that their sacrifice would build an empire. I turned to my fellow horsemen, they watched me, waiting, and then I let out my battle cry and led forces my forces into battle and glory . . .

I awoke with the taste of blood in my mouth. Another shockingly vivid dream. For the most part it seemed a harmless bit of fantasy, but then, in the dream, I had road into battle and put my scimitar to work. I witnessed the horrors of war first hand. It had been horrible. But the worst image of all was the last . . . my victim was still breathing when he was brought before me . . . but the lady had called for his head. The warrior I dreamed up had been ruthless. For a brief moment my mind went back to that horrible moment under the Sunrise district in the Lotus Dragon lair and I remembered my Knife slicing into the neck of the filthy assassin that had tried to murder us. Those two imagines briefly intermingled and for a moment I was staring down upon the same two terrified eyes. I shuttered. Seems this dream was more of a nightmare after all.

“Where’s Kiki,” Kale asked.

Even though he wasn’t asking me specifically I sat up to have a look. She didn’t seem to be anywhere in the crowded cabin.

“She was on guard duty last,” James said from his bunk. He wasn’t one to move unless he had to, “I woke her when our shift ended.”

I glanced over at Churtle. She always took last watch with Kiki to start breakfast. She glanced up at me and quickly shuffled over.

“She left this mornings,” Churtle whispered, “I thinks to make water, but she’s not back yet.”

“Why didn’t you . . .” I glanced over at Kale, he was buckling on his sword belt and he looked perturbed, “How long ago,” I quickly asked Churtle.

“Maybes ten or twenty minutes,” she whimpered, “I didn’t realize that shes was still missings until now.”

“Don’t worry Churtle,” I said, “it’ll be alright.”

“She’s been gone for almost a half hour,” I said to the others, “could you guys do a quick search of the area? I’d better look at my spell book just in case we need magic.”

There was much shouting and shuffling about. I did my best to concentrate, but I, like everyone else, was worried. Churtle herself seemed particularly on edge and she kept wringing her hands while cooking the porridge. Perhaps she thought that she might get blamed for Kiki’s disappearance. I wanted to re-assure her but I needed to concentrate on my spells. If there was anything dangerous out there I needed to be completely prepared. I thought she’d be fine but in my mind I prepared for the worst.

Our fears were thankfully unfounded. Kiki strolled back into camp before I could finish with my spell book (meaning less than an hour). I could hear Kale giving a stern lecture about wandering off alone and not telling anyone, and I could just imagine how well it was going over . . . perhaps I’d have a talk with Kiki after we camped for the night. It was foolish and dangerous to wander off anywhere alone on the island and I hoped that Kiki understood that.

Our stalker seemed to be up to his old tricks again. Twelve birds, on X-frames, were on display just outside of camp. My companions made the discovery while searching for Kiki and hastily destroyed the display once they discovered that it had nothing to do with Kiki’s disappearance. Perhaps they had thought that they were sparing the weaker or more sensitive members of our group from the strain of having to witness such a horrific sight, and had they disposed of the display and then never spoke of it again they would have been far more successful, but by noon word of grim discovery had spread. I tried to make light of the discovery:

“Who knows what’s living on this island,” I said to Amella and Churtle who brought word of the discovery to me, “I take it you think that this is the work of our mysterious stalker?”

“Whatever this blasted beast is, it’s doing its best to break our balls,” Amella snarled.

“Balls?!” I asked with some surprise, I knew what she meant, but I’d never heard a woman use the expression.

“Break our keel, trying to take the wind out’a our sails,” Amella muttered, “it’s all the same thing. Its maken’ me pissed. If this coward thinks he can cow me . . .”

“It’s a big island,” I cut in, “with lots of things living on it. There’s no saying that something native to this island didn’t put those birds up for other reasons.”

“Ignoring the fact that they weren’t there last night, ignoring the fact that it was placed in our exact path, and ignoring the fact that they did it without making a sound, please continue,” Amella put in.

“First of all Amella,” I felt the need to correct, “not everything is up and active in the daylight, some creatures, like our kobold cook here, prefer the nighttime. Also you say our exact path like there’s some possible alternate route, really we have a choice of forwards or backwards, and if we find something on the path we can’t always assume that it was meant for us. I can’t imagine there are too many flat monster and foliage free locations on the island. Intelligent creatures living here might use this path for drying or curing food. And as to your last point, that the carcasses were set up without a sound, well, I’d like to point out that the walls to that cabin aren’t exactly paper thin. Also let me point out that even if the creature or creatures are whisper quite you can’t mistake that for malice or ill intent. There are plenty of beasts in this world that have the need for stealth for their own safety rather than survival. It’s completely possible that something left those dead animals there for something completely not pertaining to us, or, perhaps it wasn’t the dark message the men thought it was. Perhaps some small creature was merely offering us a sacrifice. We did make rather short work of a gargoyle king yesterday. Perhaps something saw us and was trying to show its gratitude. Again, people are quick to jump to conclusions! Let’s not always assume the worst alright?”

Amella merely rolled her eyes but she said nothing more about the dead birds or monsters. Churtle seemed to have a bit more bounce in her step after my reassurances, and even Avner (who always tries to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations) seemed less panicked and far whinier after my talk with Amella. I’ll not say that this put anyone in high spirits, but there was certainly less whispering and nervous chatter after I made them see the alternate possibilities. Reality can be such a tenuous fleeting thing.

Sometime after lunch a single Oman was spotted on the path far ahead of us.

“Hail,” I shouted in Oman as I moved to the front of the group, “we are travelers down on our luck and need directions to the Oman villages to the south.”

The man took no notice of us. Instead he stared out to the sea.

“Hello,” I tried, “can you hear me?”

Again the Oman made no sign that he heard me.

“Kale,” I said turning to the group, “you and the others wait here. I’m going to try to get closer and see if I can talk to him.”

I approached trying different languages. “Hello,” I said in sylvan, “do you understand me?”

Nothing.

“Do you understand Dwarven?” I tried in Dwarven to no effect, “what about Draconic?” I asked in Draconic. Suddenly the Oman drew a knife and pointed it toward his own chest, “Wait,” I shouted in Oman, “Talk to me!” The man plunged the dagger into his chest and then threw himself off of the cliff face! I was flabbergasted. “How rude,” was all I could think to say.

Kale came running up behind me. “Tristan what did you say to him?” he asked as he drew close. I ignored his implication that I had somehow caused this man to kill himself. I stepped over to the ledge and looked over . . . he must have landed in the water because I couldn’t see his body anywhere bellow.

I looked over at Kale (by this time the others had run over and were looking to the waters bellow). “Must be a cultural thing,” I said with a shrug, “these people worship human sacrificing deities and are known to practice necromancy. So we can’t judge them anymore then we can understand them. That must have been part of some sort of religious ceremony or something.”

We continued walking. I think many of us were strangely reflective after that incident, it’s not often that you witness someone kill themselves, and I’m sure some of us were now reflecting on their own mortality. Not me though. I’m sure some of us also wondered what would drive a man to do something so drastic . . . I really didn’t care though. Worshiping a god of death really helps keep things in perspective sometimes. Quite frankly I’m not sure why some of the others seemed to be dwelling on it, tragic as it was, but the fate of one suicidal Oman should have been the least of our worries.

Sometime before supper we came to a fork in the road, one route lead inland, and the other continued along the sea road. There was a far bit of debate over which route we should take:

“Let’s go inland,” Avner whined, “I feel horribly exposed here! There could be even more gargoyle attacks at any moment!”

“Wait,” Urol cut in, “we should finish mapping this road. This will aide out colonization of the island immensely.”

“Great, we have to choose between those two?” Amella grumbled, “Sounds like bad idea, worse idea.”

“We’ll need to head inland eventually,” Fredrick pointed out, “These cliffs don’t extend for eternity.”

“And that Oman had to have come from somewhere,” James added, “there’s nothing but ruins along this coast so far, I’m willing to bet he came from inland somewhere.”

“But,” Kale said raising a finger, “but we’ll make better time along this road then we ever would in the jungle.”
“I agree with Kale,” I said with a bit of surprise, he had practically taken the words out of my mouth, “let’s use this opportunity while we still have it. We’ll be sloshing through the jungle soon enough.”

We took a quick vote and we decided to continue along the road. A few hours later the road came to an abrupt end . . . perhaps it was the work of the weather, some great disaster, or perhaps the ancient Omen didn’t complete their road . . . whatever the reason the road didn’t continue and we could find no other way to continue along the cliffs. We were forced to backtrack. Avner of course wanted everyone to know that he had been right the entire time. I ignored him. I fully expected Kale to reprimand him or something but I guess there was something was in the air, as Kale seemed lost in thought for much of the day’s trip, and as we backtracked along the road he looked at me as if he’d made a decision. I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be something that I’d enjoy.

We traveled just far enough along the fork to reach the jungle once more and then we decided to make camp. The sun was quickly setting and we were all quite tired. I had just finished casting the shelter spell when Kale approached me.

“Tristan,” he said, “could I speak to you for a moment?”

“I suppose,” I said, dreading what it was going to be.

“Alone,” he said glancing at the others.

I grumbled but followed as he walked away from earshot. “Tristan,” he said after we were safely out of earshot, “as you may or may not know, I’ve studied swordsmanship and the ancient art of bushido, and it’s been my lifelong desire to become a samurai.” He waited a moment as if expecting me to mock him, my face remained neutral, although Hop-Toy and myself were mocking him on the inside, “Anyways one important step that a samurai must take is he must accept a lord and master to swear his life too . . .”

“Me?” I asked with some surprise.

“Of course not,” Kale snapped a bit too quickly, as if I wouldn’t have been an excellent master, “but you will need to take my pledge as you are the only representative of the Dawn Council . . .”

“You want to join the Dawn Council?”

“No,” he snapped, “would you just listen? I want to swear an oath to the city of Sasserine, to serve and protect it from danger, and I need you to accept my pledge.”

“Fine,” I said trying to remain as neutral as I could. Kale sounded sincere, and I know that men take these pledges very seriously, but it was my understanding that these sorts of pledges were given to lords and ladies, even gods or ideals, but not (in my limited experience) did one pledge one’s self to a city. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just stand there and agree to take my oath before the council when the time comes, and I warn you Tristan,” Kale muttered, “don’t you dare try and twist this for your own personal gain . . .”

“As if!” I snapped. I’d sworn my own oaths to both the Dawn Council and to the Witchwardens. I knew better then he what these oaths meant! The very idea that I’d mock or twist his oath was highly insulting. He must have thought I was the worst most manipulative person in the world! I was tempted to simply turn him down and let him find someone else to play knight with . . . still, judging by the look on his face he was taking this very seriously, and our relationship over the last few months hasn’t been the best . . . perhaps if I did this for him it might go some distance in repairing whatever grudge he had against me.

“One more thing,” Kale said, glancing over to the others.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want you spreading this around,” he said, “or lording this over me, I want you to promise me that you’ll not tell anyone about this till we make it back to Sasserine.”

“Fine,” I said, wishing he’d just get on with it.

“Fine,” Kale snapped, then immediately dropped to one knee, “I Kale Silverthumb, of the city of Sasserine, born and raised in the merchant district, do here by pledge my sword and my life to the city of Sasserine, to do with as it needs, till death takes me. As long as I breathe I shall defend you, as long as I stand I shall serve you, and as long as there is blood in my veins and strength in my arms I shall fight against all who would harm you . . .”

I became keenly aware of the others watching, I saw them gawking out of the corner of my eye, and I became immediately aware of what this must have looked like! I glanced down at Kale, who had his head bowed in his prayer, and suddenly wondered if he had set up this scene on purpose. Kale had stopped talking. I realized that he was waiting for a reply.

“On behalf of the Dawn Council and the city of Sasserine I accept,” I said, while shaking my head and waving my hands to indicate the negative. I didn’t want anyone watching to think for a moment that I was accepting a proposal from Kale! Kale raised his head just as I stopped my pantomime. “Is that it?” I asked.

“I guess . . .” he said, and I quickly made my way back to the others. I was suddenly swarmed by the other female members of our group.

“Are you all right?” Buffy asked.

“I never would have thought Kale the type . . .” Orlani was saying.

“Wow, you and Kale,” Kiki was saying, “guess he was in love with you all this time . . .”

“Did Kale really propose to you?” Amella was asking, surprise written all over her face.

“Look,” I said turning to the others, “I really don’t want to talk about it. Besides I promised Kale I wouldn’t say a word on the subject, although it was completely unexpected by me as well, but if you want to hear anything about it I think you’re going to have to talk to Kale about it.”

I glanced over at Kale. Judging by his embarrassed red face and angry glares in my direction he was likely beginning to realize what I had done . . .

“Relax old bean,” Avner was saying, “I’d offer you a drink if I had one, for I too know the sting of being rejected by that hag!”

I quickly moved into the cabin and drew the line down the centre. I hoped that there would be a reprieve from the questions about Kale once inside but the women were relentless. I told them over and over that I wasn’t going to talk about it, but that only seemed to encourage them, like a drop of blood into piranha infested waters. I guess I’d forgotten how much how much people loved to gossip, and seeing as gossip was a huge distraction from our current predicament, everyone was despite for information. Perhaps my little plan had backfired. My only consolation was that they were bugging Kale as much as they were bothering me. I was finally able to earn some peace and quiet when I turned to my writing.

‘Looks like stabbed your eye to spite your face with this charade,’ Hop-Toy said as I recorded my thoughts, ‘although I do rather like seeing that mammal squirm . . .’ He was talking about Kale of course.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I said looking up at the toad.

“Tristan,” Kiki said edging over to the desk.

“What?” I moaned, wondering how the question about me and Kale was going to be worded this time.

“Why do you always talk to your pet toad?” she asked.

“For the last time Kale and I . . .” I started, “wait, what?”

“You’re always talking to it . . .”

‘Him!’ Hop-Toy corrected.

“And I was sort of wondering why.”

“It’s because he’s my familiar,” I laughed, I found it hard to believe we’d been traveling all this time and she was only asking about him now, “he’s effectively part of me.”

“Wow,” Kiki exclaimed, “really? Can he cast spells?”

“No,” I said giving my Toad a very disappointed look.

“Can he turn into anything?”

“No.”

“Can he do any tricks?” she asked.

“Like sing and dance?” I asked for clarification.

“Ya, Like that!”

“No.”

“Can he talk?”

“Yes,” I said, but when I saw her face light up I knew I needed to add: “but only to me and creatures of his own kind. Amphibians basically.”

“So then what’s he good for?” she asked.

“I’ve been wondering that for years,” I said glancing over at the toad who gave me an indignant look back.

“Seriously though,” Kiki prodded, “he must be good for something.”

“Well truth be told,” I said looking fondly at my familiar, “he’s a good companion and usually a sound advisor. He sometimes sees things I’ve missed and he’s useful to consult when I need a second opinion.”

“And you really can hear him and it’s not all in your head?”

“You really don’t know what a familiar is?” I asked Kiki.

“No, never heard of them before!”

“Ok,” I said turning my back to Kiki, “hold up some fingers to Hop-Toy and I’ll tell you how many just through his eyes.”

‘This is degrading,’ Hop-Toy muttered.

“Ok,” Kiki laughed. Hop-Toy croaked that she was holding up her fists with nothing showing.

“You don’t have any fingers up,” I said, “now point to something, anything, and Hop-Toy will tell me what it is.”

I heard Kiki climb up into the top bunk.

“Keep in mind,” I added, “that if Hop-Toy can’t see it, he can’t report it.”

Hop-Toy reported that Kiki’s climbing and noise had been a diversion and she quietly hung over the bunk to point at Amella’s emerald ring. Amella, I realized, had been listening in with some interest.

“You’re pointing to the ring on Amella’s left hand,” I said, “now if you’ll excuse me I really need to get back to my writing.”

“Can he do any other tricks?” Kiki asked.

“Basically he knows anything I know. If you could cast a language comprehension spell he could tell you just about anything I know.”

“Does he understand what we’re saying?”

‘Of course,’ Hop-Toy snapped.

“Of course,” I said with a laugh.

“What did he just say?” Kiki asked, looking back and forth between us.

“Same thing I just said, only he sounded a bit perturbed, he doesn’t like it when people question his intelligence.”

“Wow,” Kiki laughed, looking back to Hop-Toy, “sorry Mr. Hop-Toy I didn’t know if you could understand me or not. I’ve never gone to magic school.”

“His last name is Dan,” I said, “Hop-Toy Dan, why don’t you take Dan outside to forage for bugs. He likes slugs best . . .”

‘Tristan don’t you dare leave me in the hands of this overgrown child!’ Hop-Toy snapped.

“What’d he say?” Kiki asked.

“Oh he said ‘oh, boy, slugs!’” I lied, “be gentle with him though and don’t let him out of your sight, there’s lots of things out there that would love to eat a juicy toad out there, so don’t let anything happen to him.”

‘Tristan!’ Hop-Toy croaked, ‘Don’t you dare! You’ve not heard the end of this!’

He was being a drama queen as usual. Kiki wasn’t going to hurt him or put him in any unnecessary risk, and I knew he wanted outside to forage, but he was waiting for me to finish my journal before he asked. This way I could do my writing and he’d get to forage. He’d complain, he’d moan, but he’d do it with a full tummy.

Toads are such crybabies,
Cthulhu dreams

From the latest Lidu Diary:

“The jungle!” Avner gasped, “I thought we’d see the last of it!”

“It’s a called the Isle of Dread dingle berry,” James snapped, “what’d you think? It got its name because there’s no opera or fashionable designers?”

“Listen you knave,” Avner snapped, “Perhaps you’re used to having everything wanting to kill you, but unlike you, people will actually care if I’m assassinated!”

“Oh not this again,” James muttered.

“You can laugh all you want but something is stalking me!” Avner hollered, “why else would this creature leave markings and lay traps for us? It’s clearly after the Meravanchi clan! Think about it. My uncle practically runs this island to the south of here, my father is a man of great power in Sasserine, and whatever this thing is doesn’t want me around to consolidate our power!”

“Isn’t the Lidu family more powerful?” Kiki asked.

“She’ll never inherit,” Avner laughed, “I know her pedigree, she’s got four or five more likely choices on her side of the family alone! Besides they don’t allow raving lunatics to inherit anymore, not after the whole Orren Teraknian fiasco.”

“Hey,” Kiki snapped, “Tristan’s nowhere near raving!”

“And you and Tristan aren’t the only nobles here,” Buffy said as she gestured over to Fredrick.

“Oh yes,” Avner said, rolling his eyes, “I forgot about the glorified ferryman! I’m sure if someone wants to keep the stevedores off the island the Nortons are prime targets, but let’s get serious, the only sensible target is me!”

“Interesting point,” Fredrick said from his bunk, “and the most likely suspect is the Vanderboren clan as they’d have the most to gain by the sudden demise of the Meravanchi, but the only way to get rid of the uncle is to send agents directly to the Isle of Dread. And the only way to get close to the uncle is to rescue the nephew, seems the lad has seen through our plot,” he said drawing his knife, “I guess we’ll just have to tell him that Avner died on the way here.”

“Fredrick,” I snapped, looking up from my writing, “stop playing with Avner,” I glanced over at Avner (who had gone quite pale), “and Avner, quite inviting abuse by being yourself. If you two can’t behave I’ll put you both outside.”

“Fine with me,” Fredrick said smiling down at Avner, “it would be loud and messy anyways.”

Avner backed into a wall.

“I mean it!” I snapped, “I’m not putting up with anymore nonsense. One more peep out of either of you and you can both sleep outside. We’re not Vanderboren assassins Avner, if we were, with my magic and Kiki’s ingenuity, I can guarantee you wouldn’t have lived this far. We most definitely could have made it look like an accident as well! Now go to bed and get some sleep we have a lot of walking ahead of us yet!”

Avner didn’t really calm down any, but he was quite for a change.

Another night another dream . . . I can’t remember dreaming this much back in Sasserine, but then I can’t say I’d ever been under this much stress before. These dreams seem to follow a theme, this time I was certain I was dreaming that I was someone else. This one was steeped in ancient history though, if last night’s dream was set around the time of the twin cataclysms, this one had to have been set hundreds of years earlier. I felt as though I was looking through the eyes of an ancient Suloise noble, and not the sort of nobility I’d been accustomed too, but rather the truly brutal all powerful totalitarian sorts that excised in many a culture’s shameful past. Rumor has it that such empires still exist in this day and age!

I remember few of the details (my ancient Suloise is very rusty) but I seem to remember ordering a cathedral to Wee Jas, who was, in that day and age, apparently not as popular as she is today. Odd. This dream, again, only bares notice because of the incredible details and layers, detail that I never would have thought myself capable of inventing. The clothing and language I recognized, but there were some things that I knew I’d never read about in my history books. I knew what each ring on my finger signified, I knew the job of each slave just by where she stood and what she wore, and I knew which foods I should sample and which foods to pass . . . even though much of it looked alien to me. I found such detail fascinating. I wondered how I had come to imagine it . . . perhaps there was something to this past lives thing, and I would need to look into this should I ever return to Sasserine, or perhaps I was just insane. Personally I prefer to think that I have a vivid imagination or in the possibilities of reincarnation.

I awoke to find everyone calm and well rested for once. Having a safe place to sleep really seems to do wonders for moral. Even Avner seemed slightly less whiny today. He still ate more than his share of food and demanded that Kale or Fredrick guard him from attacks or assassination attempts but his voice seemed less shrill and loathsome today. The others told him ‘shut it’ or ‘to go fly’ rather than simply ignore him. All in all I’d say that despite the tragedy of yesterday things are looking up.

We decided to attack the cliffs in two stages, first we’d scale back to the original roadside, than we’d attack the final sixty foot assent that the broken lift was meant to cover. It would be a lengthy time consuming process, our gear was too heavy to carry as we climbed, and so that would need to be pulled up later. A simple block and tackle would make that back breaking task so much easier. Getting the people up was considerably easier then getting the gear. Kiki lent Orlani her slippers of spider climbing and the young woman quickly scaled the cliff and threw down a secured rope for us to climb. I wouldn’t try climbing though, I fit as much gear as I could manage into my haversack and then I flew directly to the top of the path.

I didn’t travel alone, I carried Churtle with me, I figured I’d help in any little way I could. My kobold companion was as heavy as my old book bag, I always suspected that she’d be lighter, but I Guess kobolds are very dense for their size. Churtle pulled out my aunt May’s crossbow, preparing to offer cover fire for our companions, and scanned the terrain for possible ambushes. Our caution was unwarranted. Seems our stalker only makes his moves under cover of darkness or while we’re distracted. We managed to climb back onto the road without much difficulty. The only truly cumbersome pieces of equipment were the massive shield and the long spear and if they weren’t so potentially valuable we probably would have left them behind.

It took the better part of the morning to scale the cliff and we were closer to noon then breakfast when we all stood high atop the road. Avner had made a fuss about climbing, he thought that we could build a lift out of the shield, and Kale and James could simply pull him up with the supplies. Needless to say James suggestion that we leave Avner behind to appease the gargoyles didn’t help matters any. Fredrick, the diplomat, seemed as though he was considering trying to smooth things over when Kale snapped! He hollered at the Avner for near five minutes straight! Avner seemed near a quivering wreak by the time Kale was finished, and I don’t think he made a single complaint for the rest of the day . . . nor did anyone else that I can remember, at least not in Kale’s company.

We made good progress despite the absence of Thunderstrike, or perhaps it was because of his absence that we made better progress, as we didn’t have to periodically stop to allow Urol to calm him. Without Urol needing to be alongside Thunderstrike we were even able to piggyback Urol and Kiki to further speed our progress. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that everyone was well rested for a change. Despite the Kale/ Avner incident in the morning the vast majority of the day was peaceful and people remained in high spirits. Tavey in particular seemed in high spirits, desperately trying to impress Kale (his hero) with some impromptu acrobatics, and earning only gruff reprimands in return. Admittedly Tavey getting awful close to the ledge with his antics but it’s a shame that Kale doesn’t seem to respond to the lad other than to chastise or scold him. I think the lad needs a mentor and it seems a shame that Kale doesn’t seem willing or able to fill that role.

The afternoon brought with it another confrontation with the gargoyles. These beasts didn’t set up an ambush, they flew straight at us, and the battle was nothing if it wasn’t fierce. Our main opponent was a fierce looking gargoyle king (I say king because he was wearing a crown) but I didn’t get a good look at him because I was forced to deal with the monsters that swarmed the rear and middle. I don’t know if the beasts are intelligent or not but they certainly knew how to use their increased mobility to quickly gain tactical advantage. Much of the fight (for me) was simply staying out of claw range. I was able to use my spells, but because I was forced to constantly move through most of the fight, my summons only came into play towards the end of the battle. I was able to summon my dire wolf like creature to assist in the mop up operations. It made short work of the lone gargoyle that remained in the rear and Kale, Kiki, Fredrick, and Buffy were slowly pounding down the gargoyle king through a war of attrition. Kale had called for the priestess’ assistance very early in the fight and now with her healing our side of the battle, and no one remaining to assist the gargoyle king, victory was inevitable.

“I want that Crown,” Kale said after our last adversary finally fell, “I call dibs!”

I couldn’t quite understand why, it did turn out to be magical, but I felt it was an ugly angular thing, and not at all like my beautiful, shapely, and organic Bullywug crown.

‘He’s jealous of you,’ Hop-Toy muttered from somewhere under my aforementioned crown, ‘he’s trying to emulate you.’

“Don’t be ridiculous, “I muttered under my breath, normally I didn’t mind talking to Hop-Toy in the presence of others, but talking to him about people standing fairly close to me was still awkward! Thankfully I was the only one that could understand the toad. “He just wants it because it’s likely a powerful magical devise . . .”

I couldn’t help but notice Amella and Kiki looking at me, both knew quite well that I had a pet toad that I occasionally talked too, but I’m not sure either knew about Hop-Toy’s true nature. I quickly pulled out my toad to ensure that the two knew I was talking to the toad and not to myself. I had a bad habit of doing that as well, talking to myself, and it usually scared the crew. Considering all that we’d gone through over these past few days I didn’t want to give my friends to worry about my sanity.

‘He was quick to get that journal if you remember,’ Hop-Toy croaked, ‘and he made it a habit of writing in it whenever you were on deck.’

I laughed, and then suddenly remembering my friends, I made it a point to look at my toad. “Oh you’re such a silly frog!” I cooed, “Yes you are!”

‘Fine!” Hop-Toy croaked in disgust, ‘You want to be nasty you can put me back under the hat, and I’ll keep my observations to myself!’

“Oh you want to go back under the hat? Ok!” I said returning Hop-Toy to his resting spot, “ok there little guy.” Perhaps I’d been too hard on my familiar, he’d been unusually quite these last few days, and when he did speak I was rather rude to him. Still, his comments today seemed to do little but stir up trouble. I didn’t really care why Kale wanted the crown.

We walked for another hour or so. We needed to find a flat piece of rock wide enough for me to create my magical secure shelter. The sun was just beginning to dip when we found the location I needed and I cast my spell. I drew the line down the centre of the shelter and then invited everyone inside.

“We’re halfway to the Omen villages tonight,” Urol said, as everyone got settled down for the night, “This road is making travel so much easier, if somewhat uninteresting . . .”

“Gargoyles not interesting enough for you gnome?” James muttered.

“No,” he said turning towards James, “see my specialty is insects, and although we have seen a few interesting samples along our journey thus far, and I am thinking of those lovely centipedes we discovered foraging in the caves . . .”

“You can shut your mouth about them!” Avner snapped.

“This has been a sadly uneventful trip,” Urol continued, “This road is a marvelous discovery from a cartographer’s point of view, but the naturalist in me wishes we were inland discovering new insects and fauna!”

“Well,” Fredrick muttered, scratching his chin “seems to me that these cliffs only extend so far and I doubt there’s a dirt road along the hills. We’ll probably have to turn inland in tomorrow or the day after so you’re bound to get your wish sooner than later . . .” he mused.

“The jungle!” Avner gasped, “I thought we’d see the last of it!”

“It’s a called the Isle of Dread dingle berry,” James snapped, “what’d you think? It got its name because there’s no opera or fashionable designers?”

“Listen you knave,” Avner snapped, “Perhaps you’re used to having everything wanting to kill you, but unlike you, people will actually care if I’m assassinated!”

“Oh not this again,” James muttered.

“You can laugh all you want but something is stalking me!” Avner hollered, “why else would this creature leave markings and lay traps for us? It’s clearly after the Meravanchi clan! Think about it. My uncle practically runs this island to the south of here, my father is a man of great power in Sasserine, and whatever this thing is doesn’t want me around to consolidate our power!”

“Isn’t the Lidu family more powerful?” Kiki asked.

“She’ll never inherit,” Avner laughed, “I know her pedigree, she’s got four or five more likely choices on her side of the family alone! Besides they don’t allow raving lunatics to inherit anymore, not after the whole Orren Teraknian fiasco.”

“Hey,” Kiki snapped, “Tristan’s nowhere near raving!”

“And you and Tristan aren’t the only nobles here,” Buffy said as she gestured over to Fredrick.

“Oh yes,” Avner said, rolling his eyes, “I forgot about the glorified ferryman! I’m sure if someone wants to keep the stevedores off the island the Nortons are prime targets, but let’s get serious, the only sensible target is me!”

“Interesting point,” Fredrick said from his bunk, “and the most likely suspect is the Vanderboren clan as they’d have the most to gain by the sudden demise of the Meravanchi, but the only way to get rid of the uncle is to send agents directly to the Isle of Dread. And the only way to get close to the uncle is to rescue the nephew, seems the lad has seen through our plot,” he said drawing his knife, “I guess we’ll just have to tell him that Avner died on the way here.”

“Fredrick,” I snapped, looking up from my writing, “stop playing with Avner,” I glanced over at Avner (who had gone quite pale), “and Avner, quite inviting abuse by being yourself. If you two can’t behave I’ll put you both outside.”

“Fine with me,” Fredrick said smiling down at Avner, “it would be loud and messy anyways.”

Avner backed into a wall.

“I mean it!” I snapped, “I’m not putting up with anymore nonsense. One more peep out of either of you and you can both sleep outside. We’re not Vanderboren assassins Avner, if we were, with my magic and Kiki’s ingenuity, I can guarantee you wouldn’t have lived this far. We most definitely could have made it look like an accident as well! Now go to bed and get some sleep we have a lot of walking ahead of us yet!”

Avner didn’t really calm down any, but he was quite for a change.

Five more days till we see civilization again,
Cthulhu dreams

Something is stalking us. For what reason I don’t know but it wants to kill or scare us off, that much is certain, but why is anyone’s guess. Admittedly my knowledge of gargoyles is limited, but I doubt they’re behind these mind games, and so the who and why of these little mysteries remains a secret. I wonder if Lithira’s warnings might yield any clues?

The dreams continue. This one didn’t feel as important, perhaps nothing more figment of my memories, but I remember being bothered by it none the less. I think I dreamed that I was unraveling, like my head was coming apart like a turban, and Hop-Toy had sprouted tentacles and wings. Such things are possible: as my mind further adapts to the frequency and harmonics of the far realms Hop-Toy, who is basically a figment of my being, will start to resonate with these harmonics. I suspect that this will lead to him shifting into something not completely of this world. I hope he spouts wings. That would be interesting.

Anyways! In this dream I found myself talking with a ‘past incarnation’, I kept telling her that reincarnation (from a genealogical and religious standpoint) was impossible, and she kept spouting something about a well. I’m not even sure we were arguing. Perhaps it was the constant interruptions but I woke with only the faintest memories of dream time encounter. Amella says that I was talking in my sleep though . . .

Which brings me to the encounters in the night: twice our camp was hit with magical darkness. Fredrick had been on duty for the first incident, he claimed that he had ‘felt’ something out in the darkness. He couldn’t see or hear it, but he had just known it was there. I won’t question his senses because something was out there and that something was capable of magic. Thankfully Fredrick had the common sense to wake someone when he sensed the thing. He woke Kale and James. Then the camp was hit with darkness. The alarm was raised. I woke to Churtle shouting that it was magical darkness. I dispelled the magic, and for a time the camp was lit with our magical lights, but suddenly the camp was once again plunged into darkness.

There were a few moments of panic as everyone expected an attack at any moment but then, as time passed, our nerves began to settle. I had summoned a creature, their sense of smell is truly incredible, and commanded it to howl if anything odd should come into range. Nothing ever did. I summoned a hippogriff like creature to scout around the area but it came back having found nothing. Then we waited it out. I must have drifted back to sleep, but sometime later Kale woke me to tell me that the darkness had disappeared, I nodded and then I drifted back to sleep. I was woken once more in the night by Amella because I was talking in my sleep.

“Quit talking about the age of worms,” she grumbled, “that happened almost two years ago . . .”

“What?” I mumbled.

“You’re talking in your sleep,” she said, “put a cork in it.”

When I finally woke that morning I found camp a rather somber affair. People were still worried about the events that occurred in the night. I had my own problems quite frankly, I pretended to be sympathetic, but I had my own fears that were a little more pressing then our nocturnal prankster. I think I might have begun to crack. I found it near impossible to concentrate on anything that morning. I looked through my spell book, ate my breakfast, and packed up my things without saying a word. When Amella had woken me, for a moment, I felt as though I was someone else. Was I losing my mind? Everything had seemed so real, I knew names, places, and had seen firsthand terrible events . . . but all of that was ancient history. I had felt it was real though, and much of what I recalled I knew wasn’t in any of the history books I’d read . . .

I found no joy in the scenery that morning, just as well, we were hit with intermittent rain throughout the day and this only helped to darken my mood. Late that morning we spotted a deserted Oman village on the shore bellow us. There was no obvious way down and it was about an eighty foot drop more or less strait down. Kale contemplated climbing down, but seeing as he wasn’t a strong climber, and seeing as nobody else seemed keen on the idea, and seeing as the others would need to rescue his fool head if he fell, he wisely thought better of the idea. We continued our trek.

The afternoon brought with it more rain, surprises, and bad luck. First was the rain. It was heavy at times, hard enough to obscure the path ahead of us, but it ended quickly. Within five minutes of it starting the rain had all but ended . . . only to have it come back two hours later. Next was the landslide of human skulls. We thought they were rocks at first. Those black eye sockets staring vacantly out at us was impossible to miss though . . . our tormenter was behind this, there was little doubt, but for some strange reason these blatant attempts to frighten us made me giddy.

“My God,” muttered Fredrick, as he looked over the skulls, “who could be behind such a thing?”

“What?” I said, struggling to keep a straight face, “this could be a completely naturally occurring phenomenon.”

“How?” Fredrick asked, “How could any of this . . .”

“Simple,” I said turning to the others, “we past a village back there, which if you recall was strangely deserted. Where did the people go? Assume that they decided to move to higher ground and there calamity struck. All those poor people died of purely natural causes. Imagine monkey pox or something equally horrible. Their bodies decompose on the mountain side vultures and such pick at the bones but the only parts of their bodies that travel down the mountains are their heads, and that’s only because of their shape. Now imagine that somewhere on the cliffs above there was a small flat patch, a great flat rock maybe, and the skulls of these poor long forgotten people had collected there. Now also suppose that all that rain we’d experienced this morning washed out the underlying soil that this rock sat on and it tipped suddenly just as we approached, well to the laymen this might look like the deliberate workings of some sad and pathetic creature, to rightfully frightened to dare confront us in the open and thus reduced to cheap copper piece book theatrics, but you’d be wrong: what we’ve just experienced was a simple random anomaly, a bit of pure chance. Its chance far too staggering for a mere mortal like myself to mathematically calculate, but its chance none the less. Think about it: What is far more likely? That some beast with an impressive skull collection just randomly finds us on this deserted path on the edge of a savage jungle, inexplicably decides to hate us, and then equally inexplicably tries to scare us; or, the wind tips over a strange burial mound? I mean where would a monster get all those skulls? It’s clearly too frightened to attack anything directly. Are you telling me that this bogey monster found a bunch of skulls out here in the wilderness and then just dumped them in our path? You people are honestly too quick to jump to conclusions.”

The others just stared at me for the longest time.

“You believe that Tristan?” Kiki asked.

“Why not?” I said, “It’s all equally likely when you add enough variables, I wouldn’t worry too much about this.”

“You know,” Urol said, “I never really thought of it that way, it’s an interesting conundrum, one which my colleges at the university . . .”

“Shut up gnome,” Amella snapped. Urol turned angrily towards Amella but thankfully James interrupted any possible arguments.

“Let’s just keep moving,” James said, “the sooner we get to . . . where we’re going the better.”

It was nearly an hour later when we discovered the mechanical lift. It was a crude device, an elevator basically, used to transport people and things between the great gap in the roadway, and at first glance it seemed safe enough. Below we spotted more Oman huts. This had once been a thriving community, the wood alone used to build these structures would have taken weeks to harvest and transport, and from what I could see at the bottom, the Omans had built this thing to last. Still we weren’t going to take any chances! I cast fly on myself and inspected the other side of the mechanism. I needed to reach the top to release the mechanism anyways. Structurally it seemed sound. I think I’d have added more pulleys if I had designed the lift myself, I’m sure it worked fine for whoever had built the thing, but more pulleys would have reduced the amount of pull needed to move the platform.

“Is it safe?” Kale called up to me.

“It’s pretty old,” I said, “but the wood looks good, and nothing rotten. It should work.”

“Alright, I’m going to give it a try!” Kale said moving over to the lift.

“Wait a second,” I said flying back down, lowering the lift with me, “what about Thunderstrike? He’s the heaviest, and that makes him the possible deal breaker, if we can’t get him up then we’ll have to find another way up.”

“Makes sense,” Kale said. The others nodded in agreement.

Kale and Urol lead Thunderstrike onto the lift, a vine securing the lift snapped, the lift jerked violently and pitched to the side, and Thunderstrike let out a horrible cry and tumbled off the platform to his doom. Moments later the remaining vine snapped and the lift fell down on top of him. We all stood there in total shock. Then the men ran to the edge to see what had happened. The grim looks on their faces told me all I needed to know. For a time there was silence. I expected Avner to turn on me, to snap and blame me for Thunderstrike’s fate, but he just stood there, looking down upon his dead horse. His face even seemed to show a new emotion: sorrow, an emotion that the poor young fool probably never experienced in his life. It was almost possible to feel sorry for the fool at that moment, showing that he was capable of caring for another living thing almost made him seem human. Almost.
“What do we do now?” Kiki finally asked.

“You killed my horse,” Avner muttered.

“We climb down and get the supplies we need off of poor Thunderstrike,” I said, “and seeing as there’s a village down there, we should also have a quick look through that . . .”

“You killed my horse,” Avner said loud enough for everyone to hear. He turned his gaze on me. “You killed my horse!”

I looked at him blankly, “I think gravity bares some of the blame in this . . .”

“You b@~%$!” he snapped, “How dare you!”

“There was nothing wrong with the lift that I could see!” I snapped, “Structurally, it should have worked! I can’t be blamed if the vines couldn’t hold the weight of horse, vines aren’t within my area of expertise . . .”

“You killed him!” Avner screamed, “You put him on that lift.”

“I never studied vines in university,” I continued, “and there was no reason to believe that they wouldn’t hold a horse. As far as I knew they could hold twice that weight!”

“You owe me a new horse,” Avner sanpped.

“And don’t try to avoid culpability by trying to blame Thunderstrike’s death on my suggestion that we send him up first, I didn’t hear any objections, and I sure as hell wasn’t the one that actually physically put him on that lift . . .”

“You never liked my horse,” Avner spat, emotion creeping into his voice, “you’ve been trying your best to get rid of him.”

“Avner,” I said, in the calmest voice I could manage, “I’m very sorry Thunderstrke is dead, he was a fine horse, and he deserved more out of life then he got,” namely you as a master, I thought, but didn’t say, “but I’m not the one that brought that fine animal on this expedition and I’m not the one that ultimately caused his death. Thunderstrike will be missed, just like everyone else that’s died on this cursed island, but right now we need to focus on the living!”

Orlani had secured a rope by the time we were finished arguing. James and the others started climbing down, I decided to wait for Avner to descend before I climbed down myself. I didn’t think he’d try anything if we were alone together but why take chances? Amella and Churtle waited with me.

The village held nothing of interest. I found Kiki examining the busted lift and that did hold some interesting information.

“These vines were cut,” Kiki said, as I drew close, “this lift was sabotaged.”

“Who knows about this?” I asked?

“Nobody,” Kiki said with a confused look on her face, “why?”

“This might have been sabotaged years ago by the original Oman villagers when they fled the area, let’s not cause unnecessary panic, we’ll watch the road far more carefully, and I’ll get you to check for traps should we come across any more obstacles like this.”

“You think this is the work of the monster?” Kiki asked.

“I don’t know,” I honestly said, “I suspect that it may be, but I don’t what the others to be worried about this.”

Kiki nodded but maybe didn’t see my need for secrecy. The simple fact of the matter was that this monster was trying to breed fear and mistrust; I didn’t like that, but for the time being I was powerless to stop him. What I could do was disrupt his plans. The others thought that this was a case of bad luck. I wanted them to continue thinking that. This beast wasn’t going to cause any more strife in our party if I could help it.

We took the time to bury Thunderstrike. I meant what I said to Avner, I did feel sorry for Thunderstrike, he was one of the few of us that didn’t choose to come on this expedition, and I knew we needed to do right by him. We covered the horse’s crumpled body with stones and then we packed up what supplies we could. We didn’t feel like continuing our trek after the disaster with the lift, and seeing as we’d only see another hour or so of walking after we secured a rope and everyone climbed the one hundred and forty feet to rejoin the road, we decided to stay put for the time being. Food and supplies wouldn’t be a problem with Buffy being able to create food and water, the food was extremely bland, but at least we wouldn’t starve.

When the others began setting up camp I went looking for a hut large enough for me to practice my magic in. I’d remembered some writing by Leomund, a wizard from a distant land who wrote an interesting article on the anti-matter planes, and he described a spell he’d created capable of creating secure shelter. Being in the wilds and sleeping under the stars and rain really gives an appreciation of shelter, and being stalked and tormented by some sinister monster really gives you time to think about security. It took me a couple of days but I was now confident that I was ready for my first attempt. I closed my eyes and summoned my magics. When I opened my eyes I was looking at the front door an ordinary looking lodge. I gave it an experimental poke. It seemed real enough. I opened the door and had a look inside: there were eight stools, a table, some bunk beds, and most impressive of all: a writing desk! I smiled at my handy work. I quickly returned to the others to show them my accomplishment.

“I’ve had enough of you pushing me around Amella,” I heard the usually cheerful gnome snap; “you’ve been on my back from the moment I set foot on the Sea Wyvern!”

“And I should have thrown your fool hide right over the side right then and there,” Amella was retorting, “and saved everyone a ton of grief!”

“You know what I think?” Urol growled.

“No!” Amella yelled, “And that’s the point Urol! Nobody cares what you think! Why can’t you just learn to shut up for once in your worthless life? Didn’t they teach that course in university?”

“At least I’m able to do the job they hired me for!” Urol roared.

Amella’s face went white, her face was that of pure white hot rage, and for a moment I thought she was going to reach for a weapon. I ran to get between them.

“How dare you . . .” Amella snarled taking an aggressive step toward the gnome as I stepped between them. Behind me Urol was trying to get at Amella. I thought for sure that I was going to be in the middle of a fist fight. Then Kale was there and he snatched up Urol and Buffy came out of nowhere to help me restrain Amella. The two shouted at each other for some time before we were able to calm them down. Amella stormed off, and for the time being I let her go, I wanted to find out how this fight had started, but nobody had seen how it had unfolded and had pretty much caught as much as I had. I decided to let Kale and Fredrick talk to the gnome to hear his side of the tale while I went after Amella. I found her sitting on a rock staring out at the ocean at the edge of the village.

I approached thinking of using the firebrand approach, ‘what the hell was that’ or ‘what the heck were you thinking?’, but as I drew closer I saw Amella’s shoulders slumped, and she seemed to be shaking . . . it took me a moment to realize it, but Amella was crying! It was an emotion that I thought would be completely alien to a stern wave mistress like Amella, but as I approached I watched as she straitened herself out and quickly wiped her face, and that left little doubt in my mind. I approached slowly. She sat up straight but didn’t turn to face me. I sat down beside her facing the camp so she wouldn’t have to look at me if she didn’t want to. I waited a few moments longer before speaking.

“Amella,” I said slowly, “I’m your friend, I’m not sure what just happened back there in the village but I’d like to talk about it.”

“Nothing happened,” Amella said with a forced laugh, “that bloody gnome was yammering away and I called him out on it.”

“Really?” I asked.

“I’m so sick of him,” Amella muttered, “every freaking day on the Wyvern I saw him, every day I had to hear him yap. You had a cabin, you could hide from him, but I had to listen to that freckling gnome from sun up to sun down. I wanted to bash his freaking face in, to pound him till he stopped talking, to toss him over the side and let him sink . . .”

“Amella . . .”

“No,” she snapped, “you listen; I’ve had to listen to him all the time Tristan. I hate him, I hate him with every fiber of my being, and nothing you’re going to say is going to change that! You don’t know what that’s like Tristan, hating someone that much, and I’m at the end of my rope here, I can’t take him anymore . . .” she stopped talking as the emotion started to creep into her voice.
We sat in silence for some time.

“The last few days have been pretty stressful on everyone,” I said, “but that’s not it, and yes Urol does talk an awful lot, but that’s not it either. I have a habit of talking as well and that’s never seemed to bother you so much . . . there’s something you’re not telling me Amella and . . .” I paused, she had turned away from me further, and I thought that it was a sure sign that she didn’t want to talk futher, “fine,” I said, “you don’t want to talk about it. I understand. But know this Amella Venkalie . . .” again I paused, Amella was crying again, and I was dumbfounded. I placed an arm around her and suddenly she was in my arms almost crying like a babe.

“He killed my Heldram,” she sobbed, “he killed my Heldram.”

Heldram Flashwell was Amella’s late husband. I knew quite a bit about him from our casual conversations, from how he wore a sword, to the boot polish he preferred, to his beliefs and superstitions. Amella often talked about him, and he seemed an amazing man, but Amella never elaborated on the circumstances surrounding his death. My mind reeled at the possibility that Urol could have been a killer hiding in our midst all this time . . .

“If that’s the case Amella,” I said after a while, “we see that justice is done.”

“How,” she whispered, “we might not even make it back to civilization . . .”

“Amella,” I said, “I swear to you, I’m not going to lose another soul to this island, and as far as Urol goes . . .”

She sat up wiping her eyes, “I’m sorry Tristan, but I just can’t look at Urol without thinking of that monster Shortstone Badgewell. I know it’s not Urol’s fault, but everytime I look at him . . .”

“I’ll keep you two apart,” I said breathing a sigh of relief. Admittedly my people sense hasn’t been the best on this voyage so far, but if Urol had been murder I’d have to have given up on pretty much all my people senses all together. I sat with Amella a while longer till I spotted Kale walking towards us. I gave Amella a quick pat on the back and quickly moved over to intercept him.

“As near as I can tell,” Kale said, “she seems to have started it. I know the gnome can be annoying at times but she’s got learn that . . .”

“Leave it be Kale,” I said leading him back to camp, “she knows that. Everyone has been under a lot of stress lately, I think she knows Urol isn’t to blame, but she’ll apologize when she’s ready.”

“Alright,” Kale said, “but she’s your friend, you keep her in line.”

Good old insensitive Kale. I wonder if he actually had to work at being carelessly cruel or if it was a natural god given talent. I said nothing though, Amella would share her past when she was ready.

When everyone had settled down, Amella had returned, and we had eaten our suppers, I led them to the magical shelter I’d created.

“Now before this afternoon’s excitement I created this,” I said opening the door for everyone to see inside, “It’s going to be cramped, and a couple of us will need to share bunks . . .” I caught James and Orlani eyeing each other, THAT wasn’t going to happen under my roof, “but it’ll keep us out of the weather, and more importantly, it should keep anything from bothering us in the night.

“Now,” I said stepping into the cabin, “a couple of rules,” I drew a line strait down the middle of the cabin, “Girls on this side, boys on that side.”

“Tristan,” Kale said, “is this really necessary?”

“Second, although this house seems secure, but it is only magic. We maintain watches.”

“Ok,” Kale said, “but . . .”

“Third and final rule,” I snapped, “There’ll be no gossip, arguing, or fighting under my roof. You want to fight you take it out doors. Everyone got it?” I waited for at least one person to nod, good old Kiki didn’t let me down, “good, let’s pack in and shut the door. If anyone needs me I’ll be at my writing desk.”

The evening passed with any more incidents, my eyes are getting pretty droopy so I better leave it here, but I do hope this new arrangement will make travel easier. Seems to me Lavinia worships a god of travel, I wonder how she’s doing and what she’d think of my new spell . . .

Gods have mercy on the weary travelers,
Cthulhu dreams

From the diary of Tristan Lidu:

he crew had scarcely departed when Kiki grabbed my arm:

“Let’s go get drunk!” Kiki said. That caught me by surprise. I hadn’t known her as much of a drinker before.

“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” Kiki was about my age . . . which made her very young by halfling standards. She was probably more like twelve or fourteen by human standards.

“Aren’t you a little young to be against under age drinking?” she asked.

I had to think about that for a moment. “Point taken. Let’s get hammered.”

I of course had no intention of getting drunk, I had done that a couple of times my senior year of school, and I had no intentions of having to deal with a hang over on the rolling deck of a ship. Kiki, Buffy, Churtle, Orlani, James, and I (just the ladies – ha!) found a tavern away from the one the crew had descended upon. We quickly ordered food and drinks. I made a special point to try the local specialties. I was not disappointed. The meal consisted of lamb and lots of greens, carrot, and potato, and the drink was a local whiskey called ‘Green Man’. That tickled something in the back of my head . . . I had heard that name or title somewhere before . . . green something . . .

Desert was rhubarb pie . . . Churtle seemed particularly pleased with that.

“Oh goodie!” she chirped, “I love rhubarb pie!” She practically snatched the plate from the waitresses’ hand. She had nearly cleaned her plate before the waitress made her way around to me. “It’s good,” Churtle said as she began licking up the crumbs, “almost as good as my secret family recipe, but this doesn’t have any leaf.”

There was silence for a moment as we all tried some of the desert. I too enjoyed the sweet and tart pasty. Then Kiki’s head snapped up as though something suddenly struck her. She spun to face Churtle.

“The leaves are poisonous aren’t they?” She asked.

“What?” Churtle asked, putting down her spotless pie plate.

“Rhubarb leaves are poisonous!” Kiki said, “You can’t put them in a pie unless you want to kill everyone!”

“They are?” Churtle asked scratching her head, “No one ever told me that before. No one ever complained before though . . .”

“That’s because they were dead!” Kiki cried.

“Alright,” I said, “Let’s all calm down. The leaves might not be poisonous to kobolds. Churtle, remember that we’re humanoid, and we can’t eat everything that a reptile can. Let’s not use any family recipes or use any special ingredients until you’ve checked with one of us first ok?”

“Ok,” She chirped, “but people always say that my rhubarb pie is to die for. . .” She stopped and blinked, “Oh wait!”

“You stupid Kobold!” Kiki snapped, I think she may have had a bit too much to drink already. “You’re trying to kill us!”

Fragments of a dream:

Perhaps it was too much crab the previous night, perhaps it was the uncomfortable ground, but regardless of the reason I woke with this dream so vividly in my head that I – no I must record this before we pack-up and begin our journey.

It was the ball at castle Teraknian, this time I was in attendance instead of looking after the children in the observatory, and instead of my cousins dress I was wearing my great, great, great, grand aunt Velhmda’s dress. I’ll not get into the other details of the dream as they are of a personal nature but I need to record this last portion or else forget it . . .

At the far side of the room was a great full length mirror. After we’d finished our dance . . . my partner and I walked over to the refreshment table to enjoy some punch. We walked past the mirror. I poured some punch and looked into the mirror. An uneasy feeling began to creep over me. We were both laughing and having such a wonderful time but as I glanced at the mirror for the third time I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what it was at first, I just had this terrible felling of something being horribly amiss, but I still couldn’t figure out what it was. My eyes focused on the mirror. There was something about it, something wrong, and as the rest of the world faded away it slowly dawned on me. The realization was like a spider crawling down the back of your neck, it felt creepy and frightening, and I hopped that it was just my imagination . . .

The face wasn’t my own. It was my image, it looked like me, but it wasn’t me. It was as though a doppelganger or succubus had stolen my image and now coldly regarded me through a doorframe rather than a mirror.

“Who are you?” I asked. I half expected the image not to answer, to continue playing an image, but it looked at me and smiled.

“Why can’t you tell by the flesh I wear?” she asked, “I’m the young lady with the yellow hair. You must have always sensed me on the edge of your dreams, I warn you young Tristan I’m not what I seem.”

“What are you . . .” I found myself asking.

“Perhaps you could call me the ghost of Tristan past,” it said with a hauntingly vacant smile, “I say this perhaps because I think this visage will be our last.”

“Our?” I whispered.

“There will be plenty of time for grand disclosure,” it said placing its hands on its side of the glass, “and it’s been a thousand years for this exposure. Soon you will know all and it will drive you mad, say goodbye to what little sanity you thought you had.”

“You’re not me . . .”

“No,” it said with a scornful look, “but soon you will be me, and what a horrid blessing that will be. It’s not your mind that’s slowly been fading, but the boundary between worlds that’s quickly decaying!”

“Are you the future?” I gasped, “My future?”

“Future, past, up, down, it’s all the same thing from the other way round. I am what you were but I am also what you will become, but it’s not your future that I am from. Now young mortal you’d better wake from your dream . . . and do us a favor, try not to scream.”
___________________________________________________________________________ ________

I awoke with a start.

Churtle, who’d been edging closer to wake me, practically jumped when I suddenly snapped awake.

“Morning boss,” she said nervously eyeing me as I pulled out my diary and began recording my dream, “Breakfasts is done and the toads is fed. Maybes, if you’re not too busies, you could teach me more about dragons?”

I nodded, but continued writing. I thought I needed to record this dream before it left me. Dreams are such fleeting things, and I’ve lost many a dream to the ravages of the day, but it seems the nightmares (for some reason) always seem to linger. I still remember that weird rhyming dream as if it just happened. I quickly finished my writing before turning to my next task.

“Dragons?” Churtle prompted when she saw that I’d finished my writing. I nodded and struggled to answer her questions. Yesterday on the road she had picked my mind dry. So much so that I scarcely felt like writing when we finally made camp that night, I wrote about the tunnels, but had little mental energy left to write further. (The rest of our journey that day was completely uneventful I’ll now add, and with the exception of a bit of rain, completely pleasant). Churtle was quickly testing the limits of my knowledge.

We ate our breakfast and continued our hike. Many of us were quite stiff that morning. I was lucky enough to have had the foresight to bring a bed roll on this voyage, but others hadn’t, and some had been forced to sleep on the cold uneven rock. I lent what I could from my haversack. Tavey, Amella, and Avner shared a blanket, some sheets, and some old dresses to sleep on. Avner almost ended up sleeping on the ground when he turned up his nose at my sheet (it was the one I sometimes use as a cape and admittedly it was very bloodstained at this point), it was lucky for him I was too tired to care, and he ended up taking one of my old dresses to sleep on. It was little more than a pillow for him though.

The scenery was rather breathtaking. As much as I hate this island I did find myself almost enjoying myself that morning. As much as I was worried about our survival, the strange dream, and Churtle’s education, the bright sun, cool ocean breeze, and breathtaking scenery almost made me forget about my problems . . . almost. The other advantage of taking this route (up to that point) was we weren’t running into any opposition, this would change sadly, but for the time being I was content.

The illusion of safety on the mountain pass was shattered a few hours before sundown. The attack caught us all completely by surprise, I didn’t know we were under attack until after I heard all the shouts, and I was even one of the first victims of that surprise attack! I felt something bump into my hip, whatever it was it hit so hard it almost knocked me off my stride, and I thought for a moment I might lose my balance. I’m not sure what I thought had slammed into me but the shouting and screams from behind drew my attention that way first. A nasty winged humanoid was attacking Urol and a heartbeat later another swooped down and tried to push Tavey off the road and down onto the cliffs below. I turned to see what had rammed into me: another beast was picking himself up off the ground. I have no idea how he had failed to move me, he looked to be twice my size and possibly made of stone, but somehow he had failed to budge me!

My first instinct was to begin summoning, but with this beast beside me that was tactically foolish, and so I quickly retreated hoping that someone else would stand between me and the monster. Amazingly Churtle attempted to do just that, armed only with her cooking knife and my aunt’s crossbow she stepped in front of the beast. The monster simply sidestepped my brave kobold companion and slashed at me with its claws . . .

Suddenly Amella was on the things back stabbing away with her rapier. Churtle screamed something and a ray of sparking energy shot forth from hand and struck the beast! It seemed to sag suddenly under Amella’s weight. It turned to assault Churtle and I blasted the thing with rays of flame (thankfully Amella had been tossed aside moments earlier). The thing screeched and fell to the ground. Elsewhere the beasts fared just as worse. The monsters had stone tough skin but our warriors knew where the vulnerable places were: ahead of me on the path I watched as Kale clubbed one with his broadsword and when it turned to retaliate, Kiki lunged into its unprotected flank! James and Fredrick surrounded another, raining down blow after blow with their flashing swords until the thing crumbled. And behind me on the path the last one was getting the worst of Buffy’s mace, Orlani had just arrived to aid the priestess when the beast clearly saw the writing on the wall. It took to the air and tried to escape . . .

“And where do you think you’re going?” I found myself asking as I pumped it full of magic missiles. I smiled as I watched it spiral into the sea.

“Are you ok?” Amella asked.

“I’m fine,” I said glancing down at the claw marks, the torn dress, and the cascading blood, “this dress on the other hand is another story.”

Buffy was quick to heal my wounds. There was very little pain however, I suspect that the wound looked far worse than it was, and if not for the amount of blood and damage to my dress, there probably wouldn’t have been so much concern.

“I might be able to help you with the dress,” Orlani said as she walked past. I was a bit surprised, she and I had only talked a handful of times sense we left Sasserine, and to be quite honest I was under the impression that she didn’t like me. I knew that in many ways Orlani was shy like me, but unlike me, she almost never shared her opinion with anyone. When we had our girl’s night out on Renkrue Laimae and Lirith did most of the talking. Poor Lirith, she seemed so full of life, it seemed so sad and senseless that she was dead.

“Bring the dress over to me when we camp for the night,” Orlani was saying, “I think I can fix it up almost as good as new.”

Now that I think about, it I’m sure that Orlani resented me for taking command of the Sea Wyvern. She probably thought her man was more deserving, and if you could look past James’ questionable past, he might well have been the best choice for captain. Amella was still the best choice of the three of us though, her experience was unquestionable, but James was clearly learning fast. I don’t doubt that if we ever reclaim the Wyvern, James will likely be at her helm, but I fully intend to see that Amella gets my full recommendations and I don’t doubt that she’ll end up as captain of another ship somewhere.

I’d been drawing designs for a ship of my own as well. Not to lose my train of thought here, but when you’re walking there is little else to do but to talk and think, and I’ve been thinking of a ship. The problem with most ships is that they’re at the mercy of the sea, the wind and the water were the dominating factors in our own crash, but if I were to design a ship that could sit under the waves and wind . . . the ocean currents could still be a problem – but I’ve seen diagrams of type of ship called a theurgeme, and I’m convinced that I could use that technology to power my own ship. A powerful enough mystic engine could easily handle the ocean currents. My design calls for a metal hull though, there is little else capable of withstanding the pressure and strain of driving under the water coupled with the constant strain and vibration of the engine, and also the hull would need to be completely air tight.

The rest of the walk was almost peaceful, yet we didn’t know why the monsters had attacked us, and that left us on edge. They were gargoyles, I could tell that now, but completely unlike the pictures I’d seen in my textbooks. Strangely these creatures had geometrical patterns similar to those found in the Oman ruins. It makes you wonder if these creatures somehow were shaped after the ruins or the ruins were designed after the monsters. Perhaps this needs research. We saw no more attacks that day.

“What sort of magic did you use there Churtle?” I asked after we had walked a ways, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Oh thats,” Churtle said looking up at me, “I makes him weaker. I cuts him down to size.”

“That’s an enfeeblement spell,” I said with surprise, “that’s from the first sphere!”

“Yup,” She chirped with a toothy grin, “I bes a sorcerer now.”

“A sorcerer?” I asked, “Are you sure? You’ve certainly taken your first step to becoming a powerful spell caster, but a sorcerer? Maybe you’re something completely different.”

“Maybe . . .” she said thinking, “maybe a witch or beguiler . . .”

“Well I don’t know about . . .”

“Oooo,” she said with a smile, “Maybe I bes a duskblade!”

“I think they’re elven warriors aren’t they?” I said scratching my head, “martial spell casters or something.”

“Ya but even elves gots to start somewhere,” she said raising a finger, “maybe I likes first duskblade!”

I didn’t think it likely but I wasn’t going to question her. I couldn’t really think of a better guess though.

“Thanks for helping me out back there,” I said to my kobold companion.

“We gots to stick together,” Churtle said, “we bes strangest Kobold tribe ever, but we gots to look out for each others. Everyone wants to kill kobolds. So we gots to act like and think like kobold . . . and every kobold knows wizards be very weak and squishy . . .”

“Thanks Churtle,” I muttered.

“And not I bes powerful duskblade and not just cook anymore,” she happily continued, “so I gots to look after weaker members of our tribe . . .”

“Thank you Churtle,” I said.

“That’s a human trait though,” she said, “looking after weaker members. I just tease you though, the boss isn’t weak, but she needs protection to cast her spells. I think I sees how humans work. If you never gets protection you never gets to be powerful caster. We works together so that we gets stronger. Kobolds just tries to survive. Kobold not always gives each other the chance to gets strong. Just like I never gets to be duskblade if you never help protect me.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “but maybe there’s destiny at work here as well. Maybe Kurtulmak . . .”

“Kurt be great trickster, kobold god of battle and revenge, him gots no love for humans, and him biggest and strongest of all kobolds and I thinks him gots no desire to have anyone else as powerful as him. I not thinks Kurt looks out for me anymore, not sense me come to human lands. I think I looks to Io now. Him be father of all dragon kind and him most likely to look after and care for lonely little kobold like me.”

“Well maybe Io wanted you to be a . . . duskblade, and so maybe that’s why our paths crossed, maybe this is all part of some grand scheme . . .”

“Yep,” Churtle said rapidly nodding in agreement, “gods gots big part in all this. I wish I knows what they wants though, why we survive this far? Where we going from here? Gods got plans, but wes the ones that gots to do the real work. I heared once that gods make plans but mortals makes their own luck.”

I couldn’t add much more to that. I glanced back at our priestess. I wondered what it would be like to feel my god’s power running through my veins, if knowing and feeling my god’s presence on a day to day basis would give me more strength to face the unknown? I glanced to the fading sun and wondered (not for the first time) what Wee Jas had planned for me. Her presence in my life was unmistakable, her hand had guided me, but I desperately wondered what her ultimate goal was. Then again she was not known as a particularly kind god. It might be best not knowing what she wanted. I knew first hand that there are some things not worth seeing. There were some things that I wish I’d never seen.

We made camp not long after the gargoyle attack. We still had plenty of the crab meat left (it wouldn’t keep much longer and it needed to be eaten) but I held off on it. Last night’s dream still bothered me and I had no desire to have a repeat performance of the weird rhyming lady. After it got dark I took Churtle a ways down the path so she could help me change out of my old dress and into something else. I wanted her for a spotter more than anything . . . I’d rather not have any of the men (especially Avner) ‘accidentally’ walk over while I was changing. I dropped my dress off to Orlani and watched as her nimble hands quickly sewed up the slashes in my dress. I glanced over at Kale. Son of a tailor and the man couldn’t even sew a button on.

“Where’d you learn to sew?” I asked Orlani, looking to make small talk.

“You expect me to say my mother?” she asked, eyeing me carefully.

“No . . . “ I said, now worried that I had somehow offended her, “no, my mother never taught me anything useful like that . . .”

“Probably the work servants anyways . . .”

I couldn’t help but laugh. People have such misconceptions about the nobility. The Meravanchis didn’t help matters any, but this idea that we’re all spoiled elitist snobs that have never done an honest day’s work in our lives was so unfair. My grandfather worked on a plantation (one the family owned but he worked there none the less). My father worked as a scribe and translator. I’ve never known a day of simple luxury or idleness in my life. When I wasn’t studying I was working. We Lidu believe that everyone must earn their keep, a lesson that was learned during the reign of Sea Princes, and a lesson that survives to this day.

“Something funny,” Orlani asked, setting my dress down.

“It’s just this idea of servants for everything, my sisters all know how to sew, and they learned from their cousins. If I hadn’t shown as much talent for learning as I did so early on don’t doubt for a moment that I wouldn’t have been expected to pick up those skills as well. Weaving is a respectable pastime for ladies of the court. Please understand that we Lidu are not the same as the Meravanchi, and even if we were, I’m currently 19th in line for the Lidu title, and that rank can only get worse as time goes on. The only difference between you and me is that I have a famous name.”

She glared at me for a moment, perhaps judging if I was making fun of her, then she picked up my dress again and continued sewing.

“On board ship” she finally said.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“You wanted to know where I learned to sew,” she said, “so now I’m telling you. I was like Tavey, a young lass looking to make her way in the world, and being a cabin girl seemed better then a pickpocket or cut purse. Luckily a ship took a chance on me and I learned everything there was to learn about ships from there on out.”

“So you learned to patch up cloths aboard ship . . .”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head, “I learned to patch sails. The two things aren’t that much different mind you, but I never learned any of those fancy stitches I see on your dresses, just the simple cross stitch. This is the first dress I ever worked on, I’ve patched up my share of breaches and shirts, but this is my first dress. It doesn’t look so bad,” she said holding my dress up to the torch, “but I doubt you’ll be warring this to any fancy balls.”

I smiled. My good dress was safely packed away in my haversack. This was one of the fine courtier’s dresses that I had taken from the wardrobe of Rowyn Kellani. They were beautiful dresses but nothing I’d ever wear to a ball. Not now that I had my grey silk. It occurred to me though that neither James nor Orlani had ever seen me in my plain white dress. They’d only known me after my lot in life had improved! No wonder Orlani thought of me as a spoiled rich noble!

“Thank you Orlani,” I said, taking the dress when it was handed to me, “maybe I can return the favor somehow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled, “I’m going to get some shut eye now. Me and James have the swing watch tonight. You’d better get some sleep as well. I think we might need your magic before too much longer.”

I walked over to Amella (who was struggling to find a less lumpy spot on the road) and sat down beside her.

“Are you sleeping?” I asked.

“No,” she grumbled, “but not for a lack of trying. Everything is uneven and pointy.”

“We could share my bed roll,” I said, “but I’d have to have your word to mind your elbows.”

“I’m not promising anything,” she said sitting up, “but I’d rather try sleeping on a bed roll then this cursed blanket. So I’ll try to behave.”

I drew out my bedroll and allowed Amella to set it up.

“I’ve got something I want to show you,” I said opening my journal to my ship designs and holding up my everburning torch for her to see with, “I want your honest opinions.”

“What is it?” she asked after looking it over a few minutes.

“It’s a ship,” I said matter of factly, “powered by magic. The crew would be inside.”

“Why’s it shaped like a fish?” she said trying to read my notes, which I’d written in abyssal out of habit, “seems like you’d be using a lot of wood for nothing . . .”

“I’m using metal,” I corrected, “the whole thing is going to be made out of metal.”

“Metal doesn’t float,” Amella sneered, “the thing would sink like a rock!”

“Well, a metal boat could float but that’s not the idea with this thing, it’s built to travel under the water.”

“Under the water,” Amella repeated, “how would the crew breath?”

“There’s air inside the ship, and I plan on using an air elemental to power the thing, it’s possible that it could also be coaxed to circulate the air.”

“Possible,“ she gasped, “Tristan you’d better work out these details before you start drawing up plans like these . . .”

“The ship could run along the surface,” I said, “and these two hatches can open up to allow fresh air, but the idea is for it to run under the water away from the waves and weather. It could sit peacefully under a hurricane or run harmlessly under a naval blockade, but if it needed to fight, this metal hull could plow harmlessly through almost any wooden ship.”

“How would it go under water?” she asked hesitantly.

“Oh that’s easy,” I said holding out my hands, one to represent the water the other to represent my ship, I think dropped my imaginary ship bellow the water as quickly as I imagined it diving. Amella’s face went white. “But the crew would be fine,” I quickly added, “the ship would be air tight and they’d have lots of breathing air . . .”

“I don’t think it would be a very good idea,” she carefully said, clearly trying hard not to offend me, “maybe you ought to try your hand at designing ships that go on the surface before you try building ships that go under it . . .”

I let it pass. I had hoped that Amella would see the advantage of such a design but perhaps I had brought this to her attention too soon after the Sea Wyvern’s disaster. Still I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I’d put a lot of thought and effort into my plans only to have them dismissed outright. Perhaps I should have shown James . . .

Still it’s late and I need my sleep. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have more time to design my ship. I’m not crazy. This ship would work. I know it . . .

I hope I don’t dream of her again
Cthulhu Dreams,

- Something’s out there. Can’t really tell what. Churtle says its magical darkness.

Nothing. I’m going back to sleep.

- Again! Darkness! What’s out there? Why won’t it show itself?

Nothing. Whatever it is it’s only trying to scare us. I’ll write more in the morning.

I awoke to find Churtle perched above me.

“Mornin’ boss,” she chirped, “I gots breakfast almost ready and I gots your toad lots of fresh slugs.”

I was wondering why Hop-Toy hadn’t alerted me to Churtle’s presence. I glanced over at the traitorous amphibian. He was happily gobbling up a leaf full of defenseless slugs.

‘Ask her if she needs a familiar,’ he said between mouthfuls of the disgusting gastropods.

“And I was thinking that maybes we could have a quick lesson before we head out today,” she said hopefully.

“Churtle,” I said as I sat up and pulled on my bullywug crown, “I’m afraid there’s little else I can teach you, I’ve helped lead you to this monumental step, but I’m afraid I just don’t know enough about natural casting to lead you further.”

“Yous nots gonna help me anymore?” she cried.

“Churtle,” I said putting my hands on her shoulders, “you’re my friend, and I would never abandon you, but you’re going to have to figure out the next steps by yourself. I’m always here to answer your questions as best I can, but I can’t tell you how to cast magic any more then Hop-Toy could teach me how to breathe underwater or you could teach me to see in the dark. As spell casters go we seem to be pretty alien to each other.”

Churtle gave a sad little sigh.

“You’re a smart Kobold Churtle,” I said, “if anyone can figure it out I’m sure you can. I can tell you about theory or . . .”

“Oks,” Churtle said perking up, “Tells me about theory!”

“Ok Churtle,” I said, “but let’s do that on the road. Right now I need to study my spell book for today’s journey.”

Churtle seemed content with that.

Breakfast consisted of Terror bird again – although this time the meat was far juicer and flavorful. I thought it best not to ask Churtle how she perfected her recipe (quickly glancing at what she had discarded) the answer might have ruined my appetite. Avner took one look at what Churtle had prepared and he decided to stick with the hard tack and salt meat, which, I think, was fine by everyone. After a hearty breakfast we broke camp to begin the next leg of our arduous journey. I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t day two of ten but rather the second day of our ‘sightseeing adventure’! It sounded as stupid then as it does now.

For the next hour or so we walked through an underground cave system. At times the floor was worked stone, other times it seemed like natural caverns, but the path almost always remained perfectly straight. It was truly a remarkable engineering feat. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of this had been accomplished through magic and how much through muscle.

Of the thirteen of us only Churtle felt at home in the tunnels. Not long after we got out of the sun she peeled off her sun-dark goggles and offered to scout ahead. Thunderstrike hated these tunnels the most. At times it took every bit of coxing Urol could manage to get him to go forward. The rest of us were simply ill at ease. Amella in particular wasn’t happy about entering these tunnels:

“There has to be a better way overland,” she muttered (not for the first time) as she walked next to me, “I don’t like this, better to have the sun overhead and feel the wind against your face.”

“Seems safe enough down here,” I said, “I haven’t had the best experience with underground complexes, but this one doesn’t have undead in it – which is a nice change!”

“And it feels like we’re being watched,” she muttered looking behind us, “Wait!” she said suddenly turning, “did you say undead!”

“Well two out of three times,” I said to myself, “the mummy rot could hardly be counted as undead.”

“Damn it Tristan,” Amella cursed drawing nearer, “do you think there are undead down here?”

I glanced at the others, who were suddenly eyeing me nervously, “don’t be silly,” I said with the best laugh I could muster (unfortunately it came out sounding fake and forced). “What are the chances of that? Why I bet we won’t even see another living thing in these tunnels, never mind an undead one!”

That did little to placate her, or the others, who now, inexplicably, had the fear of the undead on their minds.

After a while we spotted light up ahead, but our hopes were quickly dashed, we hadn’t reached the end of the tunnels quite yet. We had merely traveled under one mountain and were now in a valley approaching another. There was actually no direct sunshine here. Rather light cascading down from somewhere up above. The air was relatively fresh here, and it seemed preferable to the darkness of the caves, but our peace was suddenly shattered by some falling rocks.

To be honest I didn’t hear a thing, but Kiki, Churtle, and Urol all snapped their heads around at once. Suddenly we were reminded that this was a dangerous island and caution was always necessary.

“What do you think that was,” Kiki asked.

“Somethings behinds us?” Churtle chirped.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Amella muttered.

Slowly Kiki and Churtle scouted the area behind us. After a few moments they returned with nothing. Whatever it was, if it had been something, was gone.

“Could be a cave fisher,” Urol said with a shrug, “they like to lurk in caves and snatch up anything that walks under them. I heard there are giant ones somewhere on the island.”

Naturally that failed to relieve anyone.

For the next twenty minutes or so we all nervously gazed up at the cliffs, crevices, and overhangs above us as we walked along the trail. There were plenty of places to hide and far too many blind spots. We all now wondered and feared what might be lurking above. Thankfully the enclosed tunnels weren’t that far off. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to be back underground.

Finally, after three hours of walking, the tunnel opened up into an underground complex. It had been built by the ancient Oman people. That much was clear, what with the Oman love of geometrical designs and animal motifs, but the most amazing thing may have been the fact that the complex looked completely untouched/ unexplored since the mysterious collapse of their empire all those centuries earlier. Case in point: the skeletal ribs pinned to the throne by a spear of the first room we entered!

What this room had been built for we can only guess, there was a pool that may have once been a fountain directly across from the entrance, a set of stairs leading deeper into the complex, and of course the aforementioned throne, but this was no guard post, and it seemed unlikely to me to be an actual great hall . . . but I’m quite unfamiliar with Oman culture or architecture so I honestly couldn’t speculate. Urol thought it was a greeting room. We were surprised to discover that the spear was still in pristine condition, the tip still remarkably sharp even after all these years, and when Buffy cast her detect magic spell she confirmed our suspicions: it was an enchanted weapon. We also discovered a gold necklace, and, oddly enough, a strange red rod that Kiki found in the pool. The water in the pool had become stagnant and Kiki was very lucky she didn’t get sick splashing around in the pool . . . I swear that halfling never thinks!

We took the stairs up and deeper into the complex. Soon we found ourselves standing at the edge of a massive gorge. Two bridges spanned the great chasm. Two massive stone statues seemed to stare down on us. Their mildew caked faces questioning our presence, but they didn’t hinder us, and they offered us no aide or suggestion as to which path we should choose. After much debate we decided on taking the bridge on the left, it was the straighter of the two, and our best option for missile fire should there be opposition on the other side of the door. The opposition wasn’t on the other side of the door though . . .

As we made it halfway across when a great black shadow slithered down the wall and landed on the bridge in front of us. It was a massive bug, a centipede, and blocked our path – and threatened to do more! Behind me I heard Avner’s girlish squeal and I turned to see another great black monster biting at him and Thunderstrike! Somehow it missed . . . and when Avner blindly ran for his miserable life the creature somehow missed him again! Who would have thought Avner would have such luck? Then again, seeing as he’d somehow made it thus far in life unharmed, he must have someone (in heaven or hell) looking out for him.

Our group sprang into action: Kale charged the insect in front of him, James and Buffy rushed back to challenge the bug at our backs, Fredrick looked to get between the stone doors on the other side of the bridge and the massive bug, and Kiki, Churtle, Amella, Orlani, and myself offered range support. I concentrated on the centipede that was in front of us as more people rushed to defend the rear and between Kale’s brutal chops, Fredrick’s quick swords, and my magic the bug went down quite quickly. The one in the rear took a bit more time – not for a lack of effort! But between a panicking horse, a panicking Avner, and a host of non combatants between James and monster, coordinating the assault on the remaining centipede was difficult. Buffy fended off the monster admirably while awaiting reinforcements though. I often forget that as well as being a healer she’s also a formidable warrior.

Finally the last centipede fell and our group remained relatively untouched. We pushed the carcasses off the bridge. Their bodies splashed into the water bellow, not quite sinking to the bottom, or perhaps the water bellow wasn’t as deep as I thought it was. On the other side of the bridge we found a large set of double doors . . . perhaps they had once sat and glided effortlessly on stone pins, but the ravages of time and gotten to these massive doors and not even Kale could budge them.

“They’re stuck,” Kale muttered, “There’s no moving them, let’s go back and try that other bridge.”

I began fumbling for my scroll case, I had the foresight to have bought a knock scroll for just such an emergency, but Kiki stopped us all.

“Why don’t you just work together?” she asked, “I’m sure three of you could push at the same time.”

I felt like slapping my forehead. I was too quick to use magic sometimes. Still, I was rather surprised that one of our smaller, less brutish teammates had come up with the idea, while the men were prepared to give up. Soon our three strongest companions (Kale, James, and Buffy) had braced themselves against the door and with one great heave, managed to push the door far enough to allow us (and the horse) access to other side. My heart sank when I saw what that was though . . .

“Looks like Catacombs,” James said.

“I wonder if there’s anything valuable inside . . .” Kiki said rubbing her hands together.

“Don’t you dare even . . .” I started saying, turning to Kiki, but Amella practically spun me by my arm.

“There’s no way in hell I’m going in there!” she snapped, “We need to find another way around.”

“We’d scout it out first,” I said, trying to calm the former sea captain down. She wasn’t panicking per se, not like Avner had anyways, but she was certainly not her normal fiery self confidant self. I could see worry in her eyes. She was clearly out of her element here, and somehow she must of thought that I was somehow at right at home! “We’re not going to put anyone at risk here. If we did go in it would be just James, Kiki, Kale, Buffy, Fredrick, and I, the rest of you would say on this bridge here and guard Thunderstrike, and Avner,” I added with a whisper. She glared at the pompous noble, who was just now beginning to compose himself.

“Or not,” I said with a shrug. “But the point is . . .” I caught sight of my companions advancing into the catacombs without me, “the point is that I wouldn’t want to put everyone at risk. You and Churtle look after the others; they’re not as competent as the two of you. And I’ll do my best to look after this other crazy lot. Between us girls we might just get out of this disaster with everyone still alive!”

I just managed to get to the doors, fully intending to scold whoever thought it would be a good idea to advance inside without their spell support, when I heard a shriek from somewhere further in.

“Mummies!” Kiki was crying, she ran straight past us, in wide eyed terror.

I immediately began summoning. From further in I could hear Buffy praying to her god.

“Back you undead monstrosities,” She cried, “the light of Pelor commands you.”

From further in I thought I could hear one or two of the men yelling in horror. Then Buffy was calling to Pelor again. Shouting for creatures to leave . . . I guess her commands didn’t take the first time. My beast finally arrived somewhere within the complex. I had no idea where because I had no idea how close my companions were! I had simply summoned the thing at the as far into the darkness as I could.

“Destroy the undead,” I commanded in abyssal. The creature, a powerful dire beast/wolf like thing, let out a great howl and then probably charged the first undead in its path. Then, to my dismay, I heard it start yipping, and it probably started fleeing for its other-worldly butt shortly afterwards. I could hear more yells of terror and anger. Deep inside the catacombs bedlam was erupting. Kiki charged past me, looking to rejoin the fight, and I watched as she reached the end of the hallway, raised her crossbow, and shot at something down another passage. I caught sight of the light shinning from Buffy’s ion stone and saw the shadows of her fighting with something on the wall. I thought about summoning again but there was no panic in Buffy’s voice now and I could see that Kiki had recomposed herself. It must have been the unholy auras of the powerful undead that had caused such fear. It seemed that now we had our opponents well in hand. I waited for the fighting to stop before rejoining the others.

“Everything alright here?” I asked when I turned the corner and joined up with them.

“There were three of them,” Buffy said, pointing down one of the corridors, “we took this one out the hard way,” she said kicking the dried husk at her feet. The creature didn’t look like the undead I had read about, namely a preserved corpse wrapped in strips of cloth, but rather more like dead that could be found in tombs back in Sasserine . . . complete with death shrouds, “but the other two went that way,” Buffy finished saying.

I quickly followed Buffy as we chassed after the other undead guardians. “Where are the others?” I suddenly asked.

“These mummies project an aura of fear that can shake even the most hardened of warriors,” she said glancing to Kiki, “not all of us fared as well as others I’m afraid.” Buffy wouldn’t tell me who had faltered but she made it clear that she hadn’t defeated the mummy on her own. I wondered why she was so tight lipped . . . it’s not as though I would think less of a man who had run from battle . . . leaving a priestess behind to defend herself . . .

Ahead I caught sight of Kale and James hacking away at one of the cowering corpses and I thought I heard Fredrick somewhere hacking away at another. The problem was that swords weren’t terribly effective against the dried husks. I caught sight of my summons shaking in a corner.

“What manor of coward have I summoned?” I called, “Beast, you’d better make yourself useful, find Fredrick and aide him or else I’ll send you back to the far realms.”

The dire wolf bounded off down the hallway. The guardians lasted a few moments longer and then all was quite again. We explored the winding hallways but found no more opposition. We did discover another set of massive stone doors, these swung easily enough on their hinges, despite their age, and we moved into the next room.

There were three sets of doors (counting the pair we entered through). The ones directly across from us looked exactly the same as those we just entered from, but the doors to our left looked completely different, they were larger, and seemed to be crafted from iron. They also sat on tracks with strange mechanical hinges; to our right was an odd mechanical contraption: two pillars made out of stone (one red, one blue) with notches carved into them. I examined the pillars and found that they were built to rotate but no force could manage. I also examined the iron doors, they were an extraordinarily tight fit, I couldn’t even slide a piece of paper between the joints, and some experimental tapping told me that they were likely not solid iron. I suspected that they were stone encased in iron and were likely several feet thick. It wasn’t likely that we were going to bash these doors down.

It didn’t take us long to figure out that the red rod that Kiki had found slid into the red stone pillar, although the pillar still refused to move afterwards, and it seemed likely that the blue rod would be needed before we could make the mechanism work. We hoped that mechanism would open those massive doors.

We tried to open the stone doors across from us, but we discovered that they were stuck as the other set we encountered earlier was. After a minute of pushing and straining we managed to open this set of doors as well. At the far side of the room we could see light cascading in. Perhaps this room had once been a dining area, there were the remains of a rotting table, but where were their kitchens? Where did the Oman sleep? It was all very curious to me. The time to be curious was short lived though, there was something lurking in this room, and like almost everything else we’d come across on this cursed island: it wasn’t willing to talk.

At the far end of this room there was another pool, Kiki dashed forward, probably hoping that the missing rod was somewhere inside . . . and there was something inside, but it wasn’t the missing rod. A great black blob splashed out of the pool and snatched at Kiki! It was only Kiki’s incredible reflexes that kept her from being grabbed. I didn’t wait for the others to move – I attacked the thing with rays of flame. Kale and James charged into the fray but a strange thing happened when their weapons struck the monster: the creature simply divided into two! Kale gasped and held his weapon but James kept chopping! The strange black ooze kept getting smaller and smaller with each swing!

“Everyone back off!” I screamed. I scarcely waited for everyone to clear the area before I blasted the thing(s) with a fireball. That did the trick. The smaller bits of the ooze seemed more susceptible to my fireball. James and Kale gasped at the sight of their weapons: seems the ooze was highly acidic. They quickly washed their weapons clean in the nearby pool. Somehow we had gotten through that completely unscathed. I didn’t like to think of what could have happened had Kiki been snagged.

The pool turned out to hold nothing. We turned to the doors . . . and found ourselves on the other side of the second bridge!

“Is the way safe yet?” Amella called when she saw it was us.

“Not quite, we still need to find a rod,” I shouted back.

“Maybe there is no other rod and we’re going to have to somehow bash down that door,” Kale said.

“Maybe there’s a secret door somewhere,” Kiki suggested.

“Could be,” I thought out loud, “but where would they . . .”

“In the catacombs!” James and Kiki shouted almost at once.

I mentally drew the map in my head. It seemed unlikely that there would be a secret room along the wall closest to the chasm (unless it was a small room). The wall running parallel to the iron door seemed far more likely. It even had a number of short dead end passages. I advised the others to start searching there first and less than ten minutes later Fredrick was shouting that he’d found something. Sure enough, I arrived just as the ancient door slid open, revealing another room (and stirring up a lot of dust). It was a hidden tomb. I decided to wait outside while the others pilfered the body. I was unclear as to what the church of Wee Jas would say about the act of reclaiming items needed for our survival from the long departed but I suspected that the church would frown upon it . . . even though the Omans clearly worship different gods. Churches seldom had anything useful to offer. Nothing practical anyway. I’d ask for my penitence from Wee Jas herself . . . she seemed more forgiving!

“Should we check for traps?” I head Fredrick asking inside.

“Ya, looks fine,” came the all too quick reply from Kiki.

I turned to shout a warning! But it was too late: I heard a great snap, like the sound of a wooden pallet hitting the floor, mixed with the sound of multiple metal on stone strikes (like twelve men sharpening their swords at once), and then immediately followed by five yelps and grunts of pain. I gasped in horror as I surveyed the room, perhaps as many as a hundred spears had shot out of the floor stabbing anyone in the room! Fortunately the scene was far worse then it looked. Many of the spears proved to be old and brittle. Most had even failed to pierce even basic leather armor. There were still plenty of scrapes and bruises though.

“Kiki,” snapped Kale, “I thought you said that it looked fine!”

“Well,” Kiki said nervously, “you should know that looks can be deceiving.”

Inside the sarcophagus we found the missing blue rod. There was also a masterwork dagger and a magical pearl. These went inside my haversack for the time being. We returned to the pillar room and attached the blue rod, then, and then, with only a small amount of fiddling, we managed to turn the pillars and the massive Iron doors swung open reviling the wonderful outdoors and the smell of the ocean air. Outside, on the steps carved into the sea cliff, we spied a great winding road that looked to follow the coastline as far as the eye could see.

We gathered our companions and prepared to continue our journey, there was only one problem, before we could reach the road we needed to cross about a hundred feet of shallow (and I use that term loosely) water. Seemed simple enough . . . except nothing on this island is ever simple. As we began moving into the water we became aware of something below the surface of the water. They were giant crabs (nothing on this island is ever small) and they rose out of the water to attack us.

I’ll not bore myself recording the details of this less then epic battle. Suffice to say that despite being out of our element and being surprised, the stupid crustaceans never really had much of a chance. I will note that crab meat is very delicious. After our battle was over we spent the better part of the afternoon gathering drift wood and building a great fire to properly cook the crab meat. Churtle remarked that it was too bad that we weren’t also attacked by some sort of giant butter monster or golem. I think we all had a laugh at that. It felt good to laugh again. Things have been far too gloomy as of late.

Walking is easier when you’ve had a fill of fresh crab,
Cthulhu dreams (of juicy crab meat).

It isn't a bad idea, just an evil one. Though I can totally see Tristan Lidu doing such a thing.

<as the monsters draw close to the beaten party Tristan cuts her hand with her knife, pulls the shadow pearl from her haversack, and holds the thing aloft with her bloody hand>

"Do you see this monsters? It's the fruits of your labors! Come let's all enjoy the blessed madness together! See you in hell Kopru!"

<with that she throws the pearl to the ground and teleports away. She's crazy . . . not insane!>

I awoke to the sound of Churtle exercising. At first I thought I was still dreaming, she was dancing about swinging about ten feet of knotted rope. When I sat up she immediately put the rope away and began busying herself with breakfast.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Churtle chirped as she poked at the fire.

“Morning Churtle,” I said as I sat up looking around the camp, only Buffy wide awake and going about her morning prayers. I edged a little closer to Churdle. “Are you adding a new morning routine? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that rope before . . .”

Churtle let out a small nervous giggle. “You saw that eh boss,” she said rubbing the back of her head, “just something I’m working on . . .”

“Something?” I repeated as a question.

“You ever reads Gaxsban or Lady Sasserine?” she asked. I knew both of those books: Gaxsban was a terrible trashy romance novel that featured a far too much sword fighting and not nearly enough of the stuff that makes a trashy romance novel worth reading, and Lady Sasserine was only slightly better, but a book that most of the girls at our school felt unabashed about reading because it contained a token amount of history. Of the two books I preferred Lady Sasserine. She wasn’t a woman to get tied up and wait for a man to rescue her.

“I know both books,” I said (although somewhat reluctantly).

“Well you know Kurtmaziigg?” Churtle asked. At first I had no idea who I she was talking about . . . then I remembered a conversation we had many, many weeks ago. Kurtmaziigg was the Kobold king in Lady Sasserine.

“He’s the kobold king isn’t he?” I said.

“Well, yes and noes,” Churtle said with a toothy smile, “he was king in the book, but the reals Kurt bes great warrior, and him just bes kings champion. In real battle him used his spiked chain to rip out Teraknian’s eye and trips him before he could saves Lady Sasserine!” she added with glee. I didn’t remember this particular scene being as happy as Churtle did. “Anyways in Lady Sasserine Kurt uses spear, because all Kobolds use spears in them books,” Churtle said with a roll of her eyes, “but in real life he uses spiked chain! Hows you gonna trip someone with spear anyways?”

That I didn’t know. He was only a minor character in the book, he had perhaps a page and a half at best, but if the book had made factual errors about him I wouldn’t have been surprised. The entire novel was pretty rife with errors.

“Wait a minute,” I said, suddenly remembering something about Gaxsban, “didn’t Gaxsban kill a bunch of Kobolds that were using spiked chains in the hall of the pleasure queen,” I realized my memory might have been a bit too specific, “ . . . or something,” I quickly added.

“Ya,” Churtle said dejectedly, “but Gaxsban not a reals person, so likely noes real Kobold assassins really died. I not likes that book too much anyway, almost no kobolds and far too much sex, I thinks Gaxsban hump every woman he meet.”

“So,” I said, trying to avoid talking about a book which I suddenly remembered had a lot more trashy romance novel bits then I initially thought, “You’re trying to learn how to use a spiked chain?”

“ya,” Churtle said picking up the rope again, “spear be goods in tunnels, but here in open space, I thinks spiked chain work better. Best thing is that I can get bad guys who be far away and not get ins the way of Kale and James.”

“Churtle,” I said trying to be as delicate as possible, “maybe you should leave the fighting to the men, I mean you’re trying to learn magic and . . .”

“I’ve been thinking about that boss,” Churtle said giving the rope a few swings, “I’ll never be as good as yous, maybe I nevers get powerful enough to be useful, but I might be useful as support attacker though.”

“Churtle,” I said, “this isn’t a Kobold village, and I’m not going to let anyone abandon you because you’re not pulling your own weight.”

“Hmm,” Churtle said scratching her chin, “we surrounded on all sides be monsters that are bigger than us and want to eat us. How this not like a kobold village?”

I blinked. I wasn’t able to come up with a non obvious answer.

“Everyone should pull their own weight,” Churtle added, “I don’t wants to hide when battle starts, I wants to help, and I can do that with a frying pan.”

As a response I opened my Haversack and pulled out Aunt Mary May’s crossbow. I suspected that it would be more useful in Churtle’s hands then mine. “You know how to use one of these?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said, demonstrating by quickly reloading the oversized (in her hands) weapon, “it’s big for Kobold but once it’s loaded you just point and click!”

“Alright then,” I said finding the original case of bolts my aunt had given me (I had fired only 3 bolts, well fired 5 but I recovered 2 thanks to not getting them stuck in any targets). “I want you to help me and Kiki with the support.”

“Oks,” Churtle chirped with a toothy smile, “but I’m still gonna learns how to swing a spiked chain: someone gots to protect yous while you cast your summons.”

I smiled; thankful for Churtle’s friendship. Having people believe in me, trust me, and support me really made a huge difference these last few days. For breakfast Churtle surprised us with Terror bird steak! Unfortunately without oil or a proper marinade they turned out a tad dry. Still it was nice to have fresh food for a change. I’ve eaten enough hard tack and salted beef to last me a lifetime, even the dried fruit and wind dried sausages we picked up at Renkrue had grown monotonous, and anything new was a welcome change.

After breakfast we began our arduous trek through the jungle. It turned out that there were plenty of game trails through the jungle. Dinosaurs, you see, make big wide paths through even the densest growth, and the only difficulty we experienced was cutting our way from one path to the next. By noon we came across a great crater made, from what we could only guess, a huge meteor. The jungle had yet to reclaim the landscape. So, if it was a meteor strike, it couldn’t have happened all that long ago. I wondered if there are moon rocks or pieces of the heavens buried somewhere at the bottom of that crater?

The terrain wasn’t impassible but our immediate concerns were the huge diplodocus dinosaurs grazing in the area. If you could imagine a sailing ship growing legs and a tail you could imagine the size of the things. They weren’t carnivorous but seeing as there wasn’t one of us bigger than the bottom of a diplodocus’ foot we weren’t going to take the chance on provoking them! Urol informed us that they were harmless but we still gave them a wide birth. The peaceful giants took no notice of us and continued grazing as if we didn’t even exist. If we thought we were going to get through this scarred landscape unmolested we were sadly mistaken. As we approached the opposite side of the crater we heard this strange cry followed by something huge crashing through the jungle.

We all moved into defensive stances. Ahead, some fifty feet away, a young Diplodocus charged out of the jungle being pursued by six terror birds! The safest choice would have been to allow nature to take its course but Urol (of all people) suddenly wanted us to intervene!

“Leave him alone you bullies! You have to do something!” he shouted, “those terror birds will kill him!”

At first I thought to reason with the gnome, explain to him that we were in enough danger without looking to find battles, but looking into those little squinty grey eyes of his told me that this wasn’t something that he was going to let go easily. Truth be told I didn’t want to let these Terror birds make a meal out of the baby diplodocus either . . . maybe it was because it was young and I was young, or maybe I’d already developed a hatred (and perhaps a bit of a taste) for these Terror birds already. I quickly looked to my companions and I could see that most wanted to help the (not so) little guy out as well. We silently nodded to each other, and then sprung into action.

As luck would have it, the dinosaur chose to run in our direction (bringing his attackers with him). I wasted no time in making our presence known! As the beast lumbered out of my line of sight I targeted the perusing terror birds with a maximized fireball. Four of the nasty beasts fell. The two remaining were toasty critters. Kale, James, and Fredrick moved forward to intercept the predators, and they, combined with missile fire from Kiki and Churtle, were able to make short work of the last two. The dinosaur showed its thanks by nearly bowling Buffy, Kiki, Churtle, and me over, while simultaneously smashing Kale, James, and Fredrick with its tale.

“Thanks,” Urol said as we picked ourselves up off the ground, “You guys are the best. You’re true heroes and friends of nature.” I’m guessing he choose to ignore the looks of venom directed at him and the fleeing dinosaur.

By supper we found the terrain seemed to be constantly rising and the jungle seemed to be thinning. The insanely cheerful Urol said that we should make the base of the mountains by nightfall but I had no intension of sleeping out in the open on this island. Who knows what might swoop out of the sky in the middle of the night! I knew of flying lizards and dinosaurs as well as tales of a great bird so large that it could carry off elephants! This island seemed exactly the place for these terrible creatures to live. I nervously scanned the skies.

Ahead we spotted some Oman ruins. Apparently, according to Urol, there are many Oman ruins dotted all over the island. This island had once been a seat of power for the ancient Oman Empire. What this particular set or ruins had once been, I had no idea, but as we approached we saw that the place was now infested with spiders. There seemed to be a thin carpet of spider webbing over everything. Most of the spiders were just tiny little things (the kind transmuters can swallow in one gulp) but there were quite a few larger spiders scurrying about (the kind transmuters call two biters). I understand some people are scared of spiders, I’m not, but after those ruins I could certainly emphasize!

As we drew deeper and deeper into the ruins I became vaguely aware of larger shapes moving about inside the buildings, at first I thought they might be humans or animals or even those mysterious ettercaps, but no man or mammal lurked in those darkened shelters. I caught sight of three great black hairy legs, longer then my arms. I jumped forward to warn my companions but they had already halted – there in the centre of town sat a throne made of webs and bones. An aged woman in black silk sat high atop the throne. I remembered reading Larissa’s journal all those months ago and I knew instantly this old crone wasn’t all she appeared. She beckoned us forward.

“What do we do?” Kale asked.

“You wait here,” I said eying the old lady, “Fredrick and Urol you’re with me, but stay close: if this is a trap I’m going to D-door us out of there. The rest of you stay on your toes and beware, there may be giant spiders in some of those buildings.”

“I don’t know . . .” Kale started.

“Be careful,” Kiki said cutting him off, “and whatever you do don’t walk into her parlor.”

I stepped forward before Kale or the others could question my decision further. Fredrick and Urol were almost forced to jog after me as I choose to advance at a brisk pace.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Fredrick said when he caught up.

“Haven’t got a clue,” I said as I approached the webs, the ancient lady began calling to us in a language that sounded familiar but that I couldn’t quite place. Perhaps she spoke a strange dialect of a language I was already familiar with? Undeterred she changed to Sylvain.

“Hail strangers,” she said, “would you care to speak?”

“Hail web mistress,” I said, trying to sound as friendly yet as guarded as I could, “we mean you and your kin no harm and only seek passage through your lands.”

“Who are you that has wandered into my web?” she asked, “You are not from this place. I have not seen your like in an age. I am Lithira, queen of these ruins. What brings you to my domain?”

“I am Tristan Lidu leader of this small expedition,” I said with a general wave at the others, quickly turning back to introduce my companions standing next to me, “this is Fredrick our diplomat,” the startled blank look in Fredrick’s face told me he didn’t understand a single word that was being said, “and this is Urol our guide,” the twinkle and interest in Urol’s eyes told me that he clearly understood, I cut him off before he could say something inappropriate or awkward, “and due to some tragic chance and ill fortune we’re forced to travel to the far side of the island on foot.”

“Did you, perchance, come to this island by boat?” she asked curiously.

“Yes,” I honestly said, “but sadly our boat was dashed on the rocks . . .”

“Then perhaps you have tales or events from elsewhere in the world,” she said leaning forward egger to hear my stories.

“But of course great spider,” I said realizing my new roll, “are you at all familiar with the events that have transpired in the part of the Oerth we call the Flanaess?” she shook her head to expressive the negative. “Then let me tell you a tale of the arrogance and folly of man and the terrible events known as the Twin Cataclysms. The events that would end two great civilizations and would re-shape the Flanaess as we know it . . .” I continued my history lector until I got to the part about the founding of Sasserine and I think I wisely choose to exclude any quotes or scenes from the novel.

“I thank you for your tale.” She said with a smile, leaning back on her throne, “the world beyond sounds truly wondrous and I would very much like to visit it one day. As for your journey, there is little I can do to aide you. You should know that the way to the south is dangerous. There are unnatural things that lurk in the dark places, now more than in the past. I know that four eyes have gazed upon you and their servant seeks you out. You would do well to avoid him.

“If you plan to head south, take the dark mountain pass that travels under the peaks. It was made by the ancient ones, but beware – hungry birds nest near its opening not far from here, and they are fierce near their young. May you wander the web to find your way home.”

“Who is ‘four eyes’?” I asked, trying to think of every creature or person that might have been given such an unusual name, “and what creatures lurk in these dark places?”

“These things I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” she said with a shrug, “these are but visions and shadows, looking for answers is like grasping at smoke. I know only what I see not always what it means.”

I asked a few more questions, mainly about the history of the island and its people, but sadly she could tell me little. Her kind had arrived on the island only after the mysterious disaster struck the Oman civilization. I also asked about the surrounding area but again I learned little. It seems our host had not traveled the island in some time.

“It was a great honor to speak with you,” I eventually said when I had no more questions, adding a sight curtsy, “and thank you for your time then do we have permission to travel through your city?”

“Yes human,” she said, “and please take care, you were a refreshing change from others of your kind, I think it sad that I do not expect that our paths will cross again. Go with my blessings.”

With that we turned and left. The other gasped in surprise at something behind me.

“Did you see that?” Kale asked, “She just turned into a giant spider and scurried away!”

“Yes,” I said, “she was an Aranea, spiders that can change shape and cast spells. They have been known to eat humanoids but they’re not reported as being particularly malicious or cruel . . .”

“Whatever,” Avner snapped, “you can stay here with your new found spider friends if you like, but the rest of us are leaving!”

I could tell the others shared Avner’s fears, if somewhat reluctant to agree with the twit, and truth be told I had no desire to outstay our welcome either.

“We have permission to travel through these ruins,” I said, “and the aranea even told us of a route through the mountains. That should aid us in our journey immensely.”

“Can we trust her?” Kale asked.

“Well supposing her information was false, what would she have to gain?” I asked, “Luring us away from her city where we’re surrounded on all sides by her minions, into some sort of . . . trap? That she cautioned us about anyways? Perhaps warning us about phantom villains so that we’d worry ourselves to death?”

“Well I don’t knw what she said, but maybe some of it’s a lie but the rest of its true?” He asked with a shrug. It wasn’t faulty logic: if the aranea wanted to trick us that would be the best way of going about it, but to what end? I still believed that the aranea had given us information that she believed to be true; but, I was forced to admit that Kale wasn’t such a complete dolt at times. He occasionally used his brains instead of his sword. Too bad it’s often one or the other with him.

“Possible but highly unlikely,” I said as I continued our trek, “I’ll tell you about what else she said and what I’ve learned as we walk.”

We quickly left the Oman ruins and climbed a far ways up into the foot hills before we stopped for supper. We didn’t bother trying to light a fire, so supper was cold terror bird meat with a piece of hard tack and some berries that Urol had discovered earlier. I told the others what I’d learned from the aranea and we carefully pondered over the riddles she’d left us with. The general census was that we trusted Lithira’s words if not Lithira herself. We decided to look for this mountain pass that the aranea had spoken of. The only real landmark she had given us was that ‘hungry birds nested near its opening’, not much to go on, but the ever optimistic Urol thought we might reach the mouth before nightfall. Naturally I had my doubts . . . but after about an hour of climbing we spotted a nest of terror birds further up the mountain.

To be honest I was a bit disappointed that we were dealing with more terror birds, I think, between last night and today, I was growing sick of them, and I think I might have secretly been hoping that we were going to face a new challenge! Still, even though we’d seen plenty of these animals already today, we couldn’t afford to underestimate this new challenge. We planned our approach carefully. Kale, James, and Fredrick advanced ahead of us, Buffy and Orlani followed a few steps behind, ready to jump forward to fill holes and offer melee support, and Kiki and I followed behind them ready to offer ranged support. Churtle and Amella followed even further behind, offering even further fire support in case we needed to collapse back and needed cover, and finally Avner, Urol, Tavey, and Thunderstrike followed taking up the rear.

The birds were extremely territorial, the moment our front line came within sixty feet they reared and charged, and I’m not sure if I mentioned this or not, but these things move very, very quickly! In a heartbeat they were on top of us. Being animals, they only had very basic tactics, and they foolishly charged straight at our front line. Our fighters held the line and the beasts in the rear bunched up behind. Now, given the opportunity, they might have used their speed to flank and engage us on all sides, but I had no intension of letting them have that opportunity! I threw an empowered fireball strait into their midst, and I don’t mean to brag, but it was a well cast and placed spell. It only dropped two of the five beasts but I managed to hurt all of them. One of the terror birds was the largest and most powerful we’d ever seen (it stood at least fifteen feet high!), rather than waste my magic trying to bring the giant down, I focused my magic on dropping the other beasts and thus freeing up my companions so we could focus our efforts.

The terror birds liked to focus their efforts, and for some reason they choose to focus on Fredrick, but thankfully Fredrick proved to be an elusive target. The smaller birds could scarcely touch him, the huge terror bird however . . . the beast ripped at him with its claws and pecked at him with its beak. Had my fireball not diminished their numbers Fredrick might not have survived that initial barrage. As is, he it took every bit of agility and skill he had to keep from being pecked to death. Support quickly arrived though, and despite the beast’s strength and power, it didn’t last long once our forces got into flanking positions! Finally the monster fell, Fredrick too had collapsed only moments earlier, but Buffy was quick to tend to his wounds and Fredrick was soon up and about (looking none the worse for the ware).

Kiki was quick to run up the trail to search the nests. What she hopped to find I couldn’t guess, these were animals after all, and animals were not known for their love of art and valuables. The nests did contain eggs however: 3 nests, and amazingly, 3 eggs in each! Upon seeing the eggs Urol immediately wanted one for himself. I sighed, silently wondering where a three and a half foot gnome (counting his pointy hat) was going to carry a one foot egg, but I suspected I knew.

“Tristan,” Kale called over, he and James were in conference with each other, “come here a moment.”

“Do you know how much those eggs are worth?” James asked when I approached.

“To smugglers or to honest folk?” I asked, daring him to suggest smuggling them back to Sasserine somehow.

“I’m just talking ideal market price,” James said, ignoring my implications.

“Five hundred gold!” Kale said before I could guess, “nine times five hundred is . . .”

“Eight times five hundred is easier,” I said glancing over at Urol, “besides the gnome already asked for an egg and I relented.”

“For what?” Kale asked.

“I don’t know, maybe he really likes giant omelets, but I’m not going to relent now. He’s helped us plenty thus far and if he wants an egg then I think we should give him an egg.”

“But they’re worth five hundred . . .” James almost whined.

“What’s the market price out here?” I asked, “Hello Mr. rock what do you figure this egg is worth to you?”

“Eeew look what I found,” shouted Kiki from the largest nest.

“I’ve got no problem with the way we split up the swag, or even giving an egg to Urol,” James was saying as we climbed up the hill to Kiki, “but maybe if you’d ask for our opinions from time to time, people wouldn’t get so hostile. A good leader at least offers the illusion that they listen to their companions from time to time. Maybe if you’d listen, and give folks a chance, you might be surprised.”

I gave my two companions a glance, James had an unreadable expression on his face, and Kale just sort of shrugged and looked at his belt buckle.

“What do you suppose that is?” Kiki said, prodding the half eaten corpse in the nest. It almost looked like a spider, but the tell tale hump on the things back still remained, if not the head and front arms. “Looks like one of them araneas.” Kiki said prodding the thing with a stick she’d been using to climb with.

“I think you’re right,” I said glancing to the others, out of habit I detected for magic, surprisingly a soiled piece of fabric underneath the body glowed. “Looks like there’s something magical in here,” I said as I pulled at the fabric. The item turned out to be a cloak. It was absolutely filthy though, and would take some serious cleaning before we could sell it. It would take some serious cleaning before anyone in their right mind would ware it . . . even if it did have protective magic in it.

We picked up anything of value from the camp. The eggs found their way into my haversack. It was really the only safe way of transporting them – they might smash together or just get jarred if secured to Thunderstrike. We then climbed a bit further to find the cave entrance. It wasn’t a grand complex, and there weren’t any carvings or markings outside to suggest that this cave led all the way through the mountains, but just within the mouth of the cave we could see signs of worked stone and human craftsmanship. The sun was already beginning to set so we decided to camp in the mouth of the cave. Thankfully Churtle had the foresight to bring some firewood (on the back of Thunderstrike) so we’d have a watch fire and something to cook breakfast with in the morning.

It had been a long hike and many of us were quite tiered at the end of it (myself included). I don’t consider myself a slouch when it comes to walking, back in Sasserine I walked everywhere, and on the ship I always had a daily constitutional (pacing from stem to stern and back again 44 times throughout the day, or roughly one mile), but I had never walked this far in my life! Fredrick figured we covered about thirteen miles (give or take) and tomorrow we’d likely need to travel the same distance. I pulled off my boots to examine my feet. They weren’t used to this sort of punishment. They showed signs of blisters and sores . . .

“Let’s see,” Kale said looking over my feet, “ouch, looks like someone’s pretty little feet aren’t used to this kind of work.”

“And how are your delicate little tootsies fairing?” I asked.

Kale plopped down next to me and pulled off his own great boot. “About as well as yours,” he honestly said.

“Look Kale, we haven’t been on the best of terms lately, have we?” I reluctantly asked. Kale shrugged. “Maybe we can put some of this bickering and bad blood behind us.”

“Bad blood?” he asked with a bit of surprise.

“You know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Kale said with a slightly confused look on his face, “if that’s what you want Tristan.” He said patting my shoulder. He gingerly pulled his boot back on and moved on to see how Kiki was doing. I sighed, was all this fighting and feuding simply in my head?

‘No,’ croaked Hop-Toy, ‘but he doesn’t know how you feel.’

“Then how do I make him understand?” I asked my toad.

‘Why bother?’ Hop-Toy asked, ‘would you try to explain alchemy to a gopher? I think it best to leave it at ‘blue bottle good, black bottle bad’. Quite frankly that’s all he’s capable of grasping . . .’

“Who,” I asked, “the gopher or Kale?”

‘Both’ snapped my toad, ‘don’t you understand a metaphor?’

“I don’t means to interrupt,” Churtle said, edging over to me, “I’m sure the boss has an important discussion with her toad . . .”

‘Obey me!’ croaked Hop-Toy.

“But I was wondering if wes could do a lesson?” Chrutle finished.

“Sure,” I said plucking Hop-Toy unceremoniously off my lap and storing him under the bullywug crown, “he’s getting pushy and full of himself anyways.”

‘Obey me!’ bellowed Hop-Toy one last time before he found himself in the dark under my hat.

We studied for some time. It was getting quite late and my eyes were beginning to droop when it happened. Ironically I was just about to tell her that it was time to stop when the tiny ball of light appeared on her finger tips. I blinked and quickly rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t imagining the thing. Churtles own eyes had gone as big as saucers!

“Are you doing that boss?” she asked.

“No,” I said in amazement, “you’re doing that all on your own.”

Truth be told, up until this point, I felt as though I had been humoring her. The ability to cast magic is such a rare gift . . . I figured what are the chances? As I watched that raw unrefined magical light bounce and flutter in Churtle’s hands I knew I had to recalculate my probabilities! Everything that’s happened this far has been too improbable to calculate, yet we’ve survived dinosaurs, ship wrecks, demons, and even sea monsters. There had to be forces greater than our own at play here. I closed my eyes and said thanks to the Stern Lady and her lover. Even if they didn’t have a hand in all these miracles I knew I should thank someone.

Thanks for miracles and small mercies,
Cthulhu Dreams

Why? Why were we spared? Why should I live, while the entire Carpenter family dies? What do the gods have planned for us? How can I record the tragedy that befell us? It’s been a day . . . hardly enough time to process all that’s happened, I still feel unbearable sadness, and I struggle to write . . . but someone must record the horror that has befallen us.

It was just yesterday . . . my hands are shaking just to think of it . . . but I must compose myself. The day started innocently enough, the sky was such a beautiful crimson, and the water seemed so peaceful and calm. There were birds as well, sea cliff nesting birds Urol had said, and that meant that we were close to land. No more than half an hour later Skald was calling out that he’d spotted land . . . poor Skald, I which I’d been kinder to him. Everyone was excited. It meant that our journey was nearly over . . . oh how I wish that statement didn’t drip with such cruel irony.

Soon we all could see the great cliffs of the Isle of Dread looming on the horizon. They rose out of the ocean like a great gray wall. Soon we could even see the white surf smashing against the jagged rocks below the feet of those inhospitable cliffs. Amella wisely decided to give that dangerous coast a wide birth! We needed to get to the far side of the island and away from those cliffs as they would shred and crush our small ship without taking as much as a scratch.

John had been grumbling all morning about a storm coming. He was right. We had scarcely time to enjoy our accomplishment of successfully sailing the Vohoun Ocean when Skald reported the storm clouds in the distance. These clouds moved much faster than the storm that savaged us a little over a week ago. Within the hour we were being pelted with rain. The waves and wind picked up almost immediately. By noon the storm was on us in full force! We fought to control the Wyvern against the powerful wind and punishing rain, each flash of lightning showed us that jagged coast, and reminded us of the punishment for failure. Before we could float where ever the waves took us, and that had been terrifying enough, but now we had to fight to keep the ship away from the vicious Isle.

It quickly became apparent that this storm was worse than anything we’d faced yet. Two hours after lunch Amella called for all hands on deck. Together we fought the wind and the waves. It took Amella, Buffy, and James together to steer the wyvern, Amella was only a small woman and she needed every ounce of strength and all the help she could get to muster and turn the wheel against the storm. I made myself useful by organizing the crew on the main deck, the wind was so powerful that I could scarcely hear Amella yelling at me from ten feet away, and I knew the crew on the main deck had no idea what she wanted. Thankfully I didn’t need Amella’s commands to know what to do, the pumps needed to be manned, ropes needed to be tightened (as well as a thousand other little things), and someone needed to relay the forward observer’s reports!

Three times the Wyvern plowed through waves on her dreadful course. Twice I was nearly knocked to the ground and perhaps overboard, but I, and the others, managed to keep their footing. I was told later that after the first wave hit us I began shouting. At what, or what I said I couldn’t guess, but Amella said it seemed that I was screaming some sort of challenge at the ocean itself. When the second wave hit Amella tells me that I began laughing nearly hysterically . . . again I don’t remember any of it, I vaguely remember being nearly knocked down for the second time and being thankful for being alive, but that’s it. The third wave didn’t even phase me and I do remember yelling ‘is that all you got?’ at the sea but other than that I don’t remember anything other than yelling orders at the crew.

Moments later I realized that Kiki and the other forward observers were yelling something, but it was too late, the Wyvern smashed into the reef with a bone jarring, ship crushing crunch. I could hear the sound of cracking wood over the roar of the ocean! A few of us were thrown to the to the deck with the crash, most desperately tried clinging to whatever we could as the waves washed over us, but the worst was yet to come! From somewhere out in that black violent landscape a roar echoed the crash of our ship.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Kale said behind me.

“Oh,” said an excited Urol, “I wonder if we’re going to get to see a masher! I’ve heard them in the distance, even caught a glimpse of one with a spy glass, but I’ve never seen one close up . . .”

“Pull hard boys,” Amella was yelling, “We got to get off this reef before . . .”

A horrible monster erupted from the water and snatched up Dorent Migter, his brother screamed in horror, and ran to the ballista to kill the beast and save his brother. I didn’t need to wait that long, I shot fiery rays at the creature, and it screamed in pain and dropped the lifeless dwarf from its mouth. The masher turned its walleyed gaze to me. Morlond fired his ballista but the unwieldy thing missed by a fair margin. I ran to the far side of the ship (which was no easy task giving the slant of the ship and the water pouring over the slippery wet floor) but the monster pursued me. I thought I was going to be the next victim to end up in its suction cup mouth but then Kale jumped in between me and it.

“I hope you remember this Tristan,” He hollered as he thrust his sword into the creature’s gapping mouth. Perhaps not the most heroic thing to shout when coming to a lady’s rescue, but I’m sure this was as new to Kale as it was to me.

Behind me I could hear Morlond howling over the body of his brother, the rest of the crew scattered at the sight of thing, but Amella and Skald (who had moved back up to the crow’s nest) held their ground. The monster continued to chase me, and to make matters worse, it was able to stay at a distance and out of reach of our swords men. Even when it did reach in to snap at me with its horrible mouth, sharp spiky spines, coated with a sticky clear toxin, extended and pierced the hands and arms of our warriors as they retaliated. I dove for cover behind the stairs when the monster was distracted. I knew a summons would distract the beast and would better harass the thing in the water but with the thing chasing me around the ship I wouldn’t have time to summon anything!

The others bought me the time I needed to bring my summons from the far realm. It loosely looked like a shark, if you discounted the horns and scales, and I placed directly behind our attacker. I’m unsure of how effective my psudo shark was but the distraction it caused allowed the rest of us the chance to draw our ranged weapons, and in the ensuing counter fire, someone shot an arrow straight through one of its eyes and into its brain. The monster let out one last terrifying scream, shuttered a bit (with all its spines extending and retracting at involuntarily), and then it sank beneath the water.

Amella didn’t waste a moment, the monster was scarcely in its death throes, and Amella was going about getting the crew organized getting us off the reef. We quickly used our hooks and poles to try and dislodge us from the reef. The wind had died down from at this point because I could hear every cuss word Amella had blasting over the howl of the wind! The waves hadn’t subsided any, but that worked to our advantage, because Amella used the wave action and the rocking of the boat to get us off the reef. We were all thankful to be clear of the thing before another masher showed up.

Lirith was sent bellow to report the damage and she came back with our worst fears: “It’s leaking like a sieve down there. There are more holes then I can count. The water’s just pouring in!”

“Damn it all to hell!” Amella roared, “Man the pumps! I want everyone hauling water!”

Thankfully by that point the storm had started to subside. The Wyvern was in dire straits though, she was leaking badly, and even if we were able to pump water out of her day and night she’d still be taking on more water then we could pump out. The Wyvern was sinking. Nothing could stop that now . . . it was only a matter of time . . . the best we could hope for now was to find a place to beach the Wyvern before we sank. The storm was still powerful enough to make that our immediate concern though, the Wyvern would eventually sink, but the storm could simply capsize us.

The crew worked hard but I think as weariness seeped into their bones it brought with it despair. I thought hard for words to say, something to build their spirits, but words escaped me. Even Buffy was strangely silent in this time of need. Then, as our crew began to prepare for the inevitable, a flash of lightning brought sudden new hope!

“I see a beach!” Skald shouted, “Dead ahead!”

Fredrick began franticly looking over his maps and charts. “Here,” he said pointing to map, “we must be heading here. It’s our only hope but we’re probably somewhere between six and eight miles away.”

We all knew what Fredrick was worried about, the ship was already low in the water and was beginning to lean heavily to one side . . . six miles might as well have been eighty.

“We’ll make it!” Amella and I said at the same time.

“God willing,” I felt the need to add, “they wouldn’t let us come this far only to have us fail here!” I naively said. How was I to know that the gods didn’t have plans for everyone?

The crew continued bailing with renewed strength. Each flash of light showed us to be closer and closer. Soon even I could see the beach from the main deck of the ship! At that moment salvation seemed so likely . . . Suddenly Skald was screaming. From his vantage in the crow’s nest he finally saw the reef practically underneath us. Amella turned the wheel hard, but the Wyvern was too sluggish, and to make matters worse, as the Wyvern slowly turned (exposing her leaning side to those sharp jagged rocks of that hidden reef) we were smashed hard by a rogue wave, practically rolling the ship completely over. The last thing I remember seeing is poor Skald dropping from the crow’s nest onto the jagged rocks bellow . . .

I never learned to swim. Seems silly now; here I was: a young woman, having lived all her life by the sea, and never having learned to swim. I don’t think I’ve even ever been in water over my head before. I’m not scared of the water or drowning per se, and it’s not as though Mother coddled us girls, but for some reason my early days in the Lidu manor never included any visits to the beach. By the time I was old enough to be sent to live at the House of the Dragon such silly childhood excursions seemed beneath me. I was being sent to the cities most prestigious school and I had no time for fun and games . . . I remembered thinking those thoughts as I plunged head first into the water . . . ‘perhaps I undervalued such skills,’ I thought as I sank like a stone.

‘Wave your arms,’ I heard a tiny voice calling from inside my head, ‘your arms you stupid mammal! Wave your arms!’

I could feel the air pounding in my lungs, demanding to be let free, and it would have been so simple to just allow the air to escape and breathe my last breath. . . but I did as the voice commanded.

‘Now kick your legs!’ snapped the voice, ‘and be quick about it! You can’t breathe underwater. Both legs at the same time! Keep waving your arms. Good, keep hold of that air . . .”

Somehow, after an eternity, I burst to the surface. ‘Now,’ hollered the voice, ‘breathe now!’ But the waves pounded me back down before I could sip a breath of air. All I got was a mouthful of sea water.

‘Tristan,’ screamed Hop-Toy, ‘keep fighting!’

‘Keep fighting,’ echoed the voice. I was going to die, I knew it, and there was some strange voice in my head . . .

Suddenly my head broke the surface and I coughed up sea water and managed to gasp a half breath before the waves pushed me back under.

‘Keep kicking,’ ordered the voice.

‘Keep swimming Tristan,’ Hop-Toy pleaded, ‘you have to keep swimming! You’re the only friend I got Tristan! What chance does a toad stand on this cursed island? You have to keep fighting for the both of us!’

I fought. I kicked my legs, I pulled my arms, and for some reason I didn’t die.

‘Wheels have been set in motion Tristan Lidu. Too many have invested in you; have come to depend on you, for you to die here and now. There is still much work to do . . . ’

I don’t remember anymore than that. I awoke with a nasty cut in my scalp – yet I don’t remember hitting my head . . . is it possible I dreamt the entire exchange?

When I awoke it was morning. I found myself lying face down on a sandy white beach. Bits of debris and smashed cargo littered the beach. I pulled myself to my knees. I heard a tiny groan beneath me, and I gasped in horror as I pulled Hop-Toy out from the sand underneath me!

“Hop-Toy!” I cried.

‘Water,’ was all he croaked.

Luckily there was small fresh water stream which I quickly dunked him in. Toad’s skin can’t handle salt water very well. It’s like poison to them. As I stood I began looking for survivors.

“Orlani!” I could hear James calling; he seemed to have been the first one up, as his was the first voice I heard.

“Tristan, Kiki, Buffy!” I heard Kale calling from somewhere on the beach.

“I’m here!” I called, “I’m alright.”

“I’m ok,” I heard Kiki calling, “I think I see Fred, he doesn’t look so good! Wait, he’s alive!”

I began calling names. Anyone I could think of, desperately trying to find out who was dead and who was alive. More often than not I got no response in return. As I walked along the beach I began to see the others: Kiki, Fredrick, Buffy, Kale, James . . . and Orlani, who James was tenderly embracing. Further up the beach I could see Thunderstrike grazing peacefully at the jungle’s edge. Yet I saw too few of the crew . . .

“Amella,” I called, “Churtle! Anyone, if you’re alright, please say something!”

“I’m alright,” shouted Urol from somewhere down the beach.

“Aye,” shouted Rodger from further up the beach, “I be fine as well. Tis’ a fine mess we be in. Marooned on this cursed island, I can’t see how things could be any worse . . .”

A great roar erupted from the jungle. From out of the trees came a giant lizard – a tyrannosaurus to be exact – It charged straight at us! The monster stood fifteen feet tall, its head alone was at least six feet, it had claws like swords, and teeth like daggers. Poor Rodger couldn’t run fast enough. The great beast easily cleared the distance between Rodger and it, snatched poor Rodger up in its mouth mid stride, and with one bite swallowed him whole! Our swordsmen drew their weapons and charged. It was insanity! Any same person would have turned and run. I must have gotten lost in the insanity of the moment because I found myself charging after the tyrannosaurus as well!

The monster moved remarkably fast for something so large. Fredrick and James managed to dive away from its snapping mouth but Kale, who went straight for the things belly, suddenly found himself looking up at a huge set of pearly whites. Kale battled for a moment in the things mouth but then he too found himself going down the creature’s gullet. First I screamed in horror, and then I roared in anger, and then I lit the overgrown lizard up with fire and ice. James, Orlani, Fredrick, and Kiki cut the thing apart with well coordinated strikes. The monster, burnt and bleeding, looked to retreat back to the jungle, but was brutally cut down in its attempt. Moments later Kale cut himself free from the creature’s belly!

I must admit I was very much relieved to see Kale alive. If he hadn’t been covered in blood and bile I might have even hugged him. Rodger wasn’t so lucky though . . . Buffy said it didn’t look as though he had suffered though, she told us that he had likely died in the monster’s mouth.

From further down the beach we saw more shapes.

“Amella,” I cried running to meet her, “are you alright?”

Amella seemed dazed and confused; she stared blankly out into space as I hugged her. “What?” she mumbled, “I’m fine I guess . . .”

“Churtle,” I cried, as the Kobold climbed out from behind some rocks.

“Um, hi boss,” Churtle said, “yous ok? Sorry I couldn’t help with that dinosaurs but I couldn’t find a weapon . . .”

“I’m just thankful you guys are alive!” I said, quickly giving the Kobold a hug.

“You!” shouted Avner, “this is your fault! Look what you’ve done!”

For a moment I thought Avner was yelling at me, but then I angrily realized he was yelling at Amella, who was still standing dejectedly beside me. I was surprised when Amella didn’t chew a strip off of Avner . . . then I realized that part of her actually believed what Avner was saying!

“This is why women shouldn’t . . .” Avner began, but I turned on him before he could finish his sexist remarks.

“You listen here you cad,” I snapped, “You can thank two things for your miserable life Amella Venkalie and whatever god or demon that chooses to torment us with your continued existence! If Amella hadn’t been commanding this ship we would have bought it out on that masher reef! She bought us every opportunity.” I turned Amella, “we owe you our lives, there isn’t a captain alive that could have sailed us safely through what we faced, and you did far better than I ever could. I’m not sorry I made you captain and if I ever own a ship I’d make you my captain again in a heartbeat.”

Amella seemed thankful for my words but her spirits still seemed low.

“What do we do now?” I heard Tavey ask. The cabin boy had thankfully survived the ordeal as well and was now practically clinging to Kale for guidance. He had directed the question to Kale but I knew it was the one question that everyone was silently asking themselves.

“We gather supplies,” I said with a shrug, “Urol, you’ve been here before right? Can you guild us to Farshore?”

“Oh yes,” Urol said, excitedly looking about, “just give me a few moments to draw up a map and figure out the quickest route!”

“Let’s not rule out repairing the Wyvern just yet,” James said, “even if it takes a few days that’ll be faster than trying to walk to the far side of this island.”

“Good point,” I said despite Orlani and Amella’s questionable glances, “we’ll likely need supplies from the boat anyways, check out if she’s repairable when you get over there.”

“Ok,” James said, “I’m going back to the boat, who’s with me?”

“Me,” said Kale, Kiki, and Orlani. Tavey raised his hand once he saw Kale was going but Kale wisely decided that the lad would be more useful scouring the beach. The others would need to swim out to the Wyvern, as it was some two hundred feet from shore, and of the members of our small group, Kale, Kiki, Orlani, and James were our strongest swimmers. The rest of us set to searching for supplies along the beach. Eventually Urol approached me.

“I’ve been doing some figuring,” the Gnome said as he scratched his nose, “I got a route planed that’s bound to be both scenic and scientific . . .” he glanced up at me and must have seen something in my eyes because he quickly added, “also quick and safe! Very safe! I’ll get us to the Oman village of Tanaroa, should take about ten days, and that means about seventy five pounds of food or so.”

“Fine,” I said, “talk it over with Fredrick. Everyone else get searching, we need nearly a hundred pounds of food!”

“You know,” Urol decided to add, “if space or quantities becomes an issue there is plenty to eat on the island itself! We’re walking in a veritable bounty of . . .”

“I’m not eating anything you find!” Avner snapped.

“Nonsense,” Urol said, “there’s no reason to be squeamish about eating local, there’s plenty of delicious and nutritious food all over the island! See,” he said plucking a small bright green crab out of a tidal pool and popping it in his mouth, “all kinds of good food if you know where to look . . .”

Urol chewed the small green Crustacean for about a second . . . then his eyes bulged; he spat up his make-shift lunch, and was sick for about an hour.

“Ok people,” I said watching Urol retch up his guts, “let’s try for a hundred pounds . . .”

Kale, Kiki, James, and Orlani returned in one of our row boats with bad news:

“The ship’s going to have to sit where she’s at for a while,” James said with a hint of disappointment, “she’s too badly damaged for us to patch up with what we got.”

“We didn’t find any more survivors either,” Kale added.

“Only bodies up and down the beach,” Fredrick noted, “looks like we’re it, we’re all that remains.”

I looked to Buffy for some guidance, or at least some spiritual insight, “The gods can be kind or they can be cruel,” was all she said.

‘Which was it,’ I wondered, ‘are they being kind to us for sparing us, or being cruel in prolonging our suffering?’

‘I think it’s both,’ Hop-Toy decided when I plucked him from the fresh water stream, ‘worrying about the gods isn’t your profession though is it? You worry about how you’re going to get us to Farshore and where my next meal is going to come from . . . that ought to keep you plenty busy. Your death God will call for you when she’s ready!’

“She’s not just a . . .” I started to argue, but I realized Hop-Toy had a point. I had enough problems to worry about for the time being.

After a few more hours of searching we figured that we had all we could find and we set off inland. Thunderstrike was delegated to pack mule status despite Avner’s protests. Fate seemed to be on our side as Avner’s master craft saddle never did turn up but a pack saddle (that must have been among the supplies intended for Farshore) did. Even Avner eventually saw that he couldn’t ride the magnificent beast if he couldn’t feed it, and nobody else was capable (or willing) to carry the feed needed to keep the horse healthy. Thunderstrike needed to carry his share. Thankfully the horse didn’t begrudge the new role (unlike his owner) and seemed more than happy for the exercise after being locked in the hold for the better part of three months.

It was near sundown by the time our rag tag group of survivors set out from the beach. We only made a few miles before we were forced to make camp. Still I feel we made good progress. As we walked I asked Hop-Toy what he remembered about the crash.

‘I remember trying to pull your great hump through the water,’ he said, ‘apparently you forgot that you’re not an amphibian. It was a futile effort and I was rewarded for my folly by having your great lump flopping on top of me and crushing me for half the night!’

“Before that,” I whispered so no one near would hear me talking to my toad, “when we first hit the water. Do you remember anything odd?”

‘Like you sinking like a stone?’ he said, ‘did you think you were going to walk along the bottom or something?’

“Did you hear any voices?” I asked, nervously glancing about. The others were pretending not to hear me, “I thought I heard another voice in my head . . .”

‘Perhaps your parlous grip on reality is slipping,’ Hop-Toy said, ‘or perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by a lack of oxygen, drinking sea water, or maybe something brought on by fear or panic. Maybe the whole thing is a retro or pseudo memory brought on by a sharp blow to the head. Who knows? All I know is that hearing voices are never a good sign . . .’

“This seemed so real, so vivid; this voice wasn’t like anything I’d ever dreamed. For a moment I thought the voice was you.”

‘And what did it tell you to do?’

“To swim.”

‘Smart voice,’ Hop-Toy croaked, ‘if it tells you to start killing or eating brains or anything consult with me before obeying alright?’

Camp was a somber affair. We said a few fords for the fallen, we ate our food, and I wondered why this had happened. Of the thirty that had set out for Farshore three months ago only twelve now huddled around the fire. Wee Jas guide me.

Why have we been spared?
Cthulhu Dreams

I had scarcely put my pen down when three huge birds charged from out of the bushes! They attacked the camp, likely looking for an easy meal, but once we were up and ready the oversized chickens went down easily enough. They got their kicks in though, James nearly fell victim to a savage beating, while poor Tavey was nearly carried off! Thankfully I had a few spells left and Kale cut off Tavey’s attacker while Fredrick and Buffy came to James’ aid.

From here on out I think it’s safe to say we’ll be doubling the watch.