Firehouse Showdown

Zhu-Rong sat atop one of the engines. The city patrol had done a good job cleaning up the carnage that was left from a few days before. All that was left now was a few blood stains on the concrete floor. This was the perfect setting for his plan. With the area being sealed off as a crime scene he would not have to worry about bystanders seeing this night’s business. He looked at his chronograph.

“23:54, he’d better not be late.”

He was pondering the ways to punish him for each minute of tardiness when Moe stepped through the door. Zhu-Rong stood up clapping.

“Well done, I knew you were too noble to let others suffer for you.”

“Enough have suffered for me already. Tonight I will get my just due, just as you will some day.”

“Ah yes, I see you still believe in Karma. Not a very becoming trait for a former assassin. You used to be so cold and heartless. So evil, I myself was enthralled by you in my younger days. I can remember hearing of your exploits when I was in the academy. The horror you used to be. No one not even Ergos Prime would stand in your way. Any yet you threw it all away. Before you die please tell me why.”

“A monster like you could never understand my reasons. They are motivated by emotions you do not possess and by ideals that you could not understand.”

“Spare me the rhetoric” Zhu-Rong said drawing his sidearm. I was merely giving you till midnight as promised.”

As he said this he could hear a bell tolling in the distance.

“Well time is up for you I guess.”

Zhu-Rong dropped the clip out of one of the eagles and chambered a single bullet. He drew his other sidearm and tossed the one with the single bullet at Moe’s feet.

“Well there you go. You can try to use that shot on me, but I would not. Even if you should succeed you would seal the fate of this entire city. So here is how it is going to read in tomorrow’s paper. “Former fireman distraught over killing his comrades returns to station house and commits suicide.” Rather catchy don’t you think?”

“You did not have to kill them. I would have surrendered to save them.”

“Oh I know you would have. And as much as I would love to let you die thinking I killed them all, I did not.”

“What?” Moe looked suddenly confused. “If not you then who?”

“I know not nor do I care. I would commend who ever did this though it looked like good work. Now enough banter. Just do it so I can go on vacation.”

Moe crouched down and picked up the pistol. He pulled the hammer back and sighed.

“You know you are pretty good Zhu-Rong but you did make one mistake.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“You assumed I would be alone”

Zhu-Rong “felt” it before he heard it. The low hum he recognized as a vibroblade powering up.

“Hello Zhu-Rong.” Ellifaine said leveling the vibroblade between his shoulder blades. “Been a long time”

“I thought you were dead”

“The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

Zhu-Rong smiled

“I told you to come alone Moe. Now you will have more blood on your hands.”

As he finished speaking Zhu-Rong dropped into a crouching position bending his left knee and spinning around with his right leg out straight to his side. He continued to spin, as the thrust of the vibroblade passed harmlessly above him, bringing his outstretched leg around in a sweeping motion that knocked Ellifane from her feet. He then flexed the muscles in his left leg and using the momentum of the spin sprung into the air sideways spinning like a corkscrew. The move had worked because as he spun he heard the zip of a bullet passing below him, no doubt the expected shot from Moe. He completed his spin and landed on one knee beside the now prone Ellifaine with the Desert Eagle pointed at her head.

“No Moe, I had suspected you might try something. However Ellifane was a nice touch. But since she is supposed to be dead, why don’t we correct that right now.”

Zhu-Rong squeezed the trigger on the pistol, firing a shot into the elves head. He stood confused though. Ellifane just smiled back at him. He heard the action of a shotgun behind him.

“Drop the piece.” He heard the real Ellifaine say as the hologram faded into static and then completely out in front of him. “Did you really think I would bring a sword to a gunfight?”

Zhu-Rong stood and dropped his pistol as Moe walked up to him. Moe smiled and punched him square in the jaw sending him flying back several feet. Moe ran after him and scooped him off the ground by the throat with one hand. He brought his other hand holding Ellifaine’s vibroblade around to Zhu-Rong’s groin. Moe looked dead into his eyes.

“We need to talk.”

The Pit (Alex)

They took a left after leaving the marble room and continued walking down more long dark passages. Alex was quickly growing tired of the scenery around this place but didn’t have the strength to moan about it.

The two headed giant dropped her on the floor like a sack of potatoes near a dead end and began talking to somebody whom she could not see for the giant’s leg was blocking her view. “Here’s the human, Mondew.”

“Thank ya. I’ll take ‘er down meself.” The giant stepped aside revealing a greenish brown creature with a rather fresh wound to his face. “So ya came back ta give me the boots, did ya?” Alex felt suddenly sick to her stomach.

“Keep her alive, Mondew. The Beholder wants her in the pit.” With that being said the giant left.

Mondew quickly bound her hands and feet with a rope. He flashed his brown teeth as he pulled the chord tightly on her wrists causing the rope to cut into her skin. Alex winced at the pain but refused to cry out. Blood trickled down her wrists as he yanked on the rope, dragging her to a large crate that was suspended above a hole.

“Sit back and enjoy the ride. It’s gonna take o’ bit ta get ta the bottom.” Again he flashed a wicked grin.

Mondew lowered the crate with the two of them tucked inside of it. The hole was as black as tar and the air as heavy as lead. The sound of the drum seemed to get louder the lower they went. Alex knew that she would soon find out what the drum was pacing out.

“’Bout them leather boots, I do believe they’s belong to me” She couldn’t see him in the dark but she felt his rough hands yanking off her boots. Obviously, he had learned his lesson the last time and was not about to untie her. “I’ll be takin’ the leather britches too.” A knife quickly sliced through her chaps and she felt the weight of them lifted off of her legs. “Aint so tough now, are ya, ‘uman?” And he laughed with glee at finally besting her. "I'll just be takin' this too," he said, relieving her of her holsters.

When she was finally unloaded at the bottom of the hole she was bare foot and in her tan trousers. "I've lost everything and everyone," she thought misserably while lying on her back on the floor.

Mondew was exchanging a few words with a purlple creature whose body was covered in scales.
Having done that he headed back into the crate, kicking Alex in the ribs as he walked by her. “Ave a rotten life, missy” laughing at his own joke, he began working the pulley to bring himself out of the pit.

“Well, well, well, a human. Been a long time since I’ve seen one of you down here. And a female to boot. Must be somethin’ special ‘bout you to keep you alive.” The little lizard creature proceeded to cut the rope binding her feet but left her hands tied. “Strange you don’t have shoes, gonna be mighty rough on your feet down here but I reckon your used ta going bare foot. On your feet now, I’ll take ya to your new home.”

She managed to get to her feet, a rather difficult task as she couldn’t use her hands. The lizard/man took her by the elbow and led her into a huge cavern that was full of activity. All manner of creature was here, some chained some moving about freely but all were working at some task or another. In the center of the chamber was a raised circular platform and situated on it were two large kettle drums with a two headed giant at each beating out the rhythm. The tink-tink sound of the pick axes was all around her. Once again, Alex found herself working in a mine.

A large human looking creature came walking up to Alex and the lizard/man. He reminded her of an ape, his arms were so long that they drug on the ground. He had a round face with a protruding forehead and deep set brown eyes. A patch of black hair sat on top of each elephant-like ear.

“This here is Ugh. He will be in charge of you from here on out. I suggest you listen to him, he has a tendency to rip one’s arms off when he gets angry.”

Alex stared at the lizard/man in disbelief. ‘Surely he’s joking,’ she thought but something told her that he was very serious.

Ugh fastened a metal cuff with a large ring on it to one of her ankles. “This keep you in place” his gravely voice croaked out. “You go now, Slith.” With this, the lizard/man returned to his station at the bottom of the hole.

Ugh led Alex to a wall at the far end of the cavern where he placed a large heavy chain through the loop on her cuff. Once he felt that she was securly attached, he cut the chord binding her hands. As he pulled the rope free, Alex flinched as the newly formed scabs were peeled away as well; blood again began to run freely from the wounds.

“Dig.” Grunted Ugh as he handed her a pick ax and with that he left.

Alex looked around her, observing “the pit” while mindlessly chipping away at the rock wall. There was an almost ethereal creature working next to her. It had almond colored skin, pointy ears and almond shaped eyes. It too was chained up. Alex figured that like her, it was a prisoner in the mountain.

After a while Alex learned the different jobs in the pit. There were the diggers like her; most of these were prisoners and slaves. Then there were the loaders, these were small stocky creatures with long beards; they moved about rather freely whistling while they worked. Next were the dividers; they sorted all the rocks and rubble and sent them to the proper places. This job was mostly done by the greenish brown creatures, obviously the mountain was full of these annoying thugs. There were many overseers, all resembling Ugh. They walked about with whips and clubs making sure that everybody was doing their job. Unfortunately for the diggers, it didn’t matter whether you were doing the job or not, you were going to get hit.

“I must’ve gotten myself killed by the posse and gone to Hell.' thought Alex to herself, 'That’s the only logical explanation in this. I’m dead and just don’t know it yet.” Looking down at her bleeding hands, she wondered when they had gone numb with pain. She was quickly punished for slacking with a quick snap of the whip. Alex flinched as the leather made contact with her back, the sting lingered long after the overseer moved on to another poor soul.

“Psst. Best keep moving lest you want more of that” the petite creature next to her warned. “You need to be in one piece if you’re going to get out of here.”

“You mean I’m not dead?” Alex blurted out without thinking.

“Goodness, no.” smiled the creature, “this is just a bump in the road.”

Another crack of the whip reminded both of them to get back to work. There would be plenty of time to talk during the rest period. Alex suddenly felt a burst of energy as a sliver of hope eeked its way through the darkness.

The Beholder(Alex)

Silently, she moved through the corridors, careful to avoid the more populated ones. As a group of green things passed by, she ducked into a crevasse allowing the shadow to hide her. Stepping out she had a funny feeling that she was being watched. Looking down the passage she was relieved to see it was empty. ‘Must be getting paranoid in my old age,’ she chuckled.

She hadn’t even taken two steps when a thunderous voice boomed, “hold it right there, human.”

Turning around she was startled to see a very large creature standing behind her. How could she have missed such a large character baffled her. His legs were the size of tree trunks, and his feet were as long as she was tall. His muscled torso looked as though it were made from stone, solid and strong. Resting atop his shoulders were two large heads each containing only one eye.

“We’ve been looking for you, human.”

Alex had done a lot of stupid things over the years and fighting with this giant would not be one of them. She hung her head submissively, allowing the giant to scoop her up in his large boulder like hands. He carried her as if she were a mere rag doll.

On her way to wherever, Alex tried to study the tunnels, looking for a way out, but everything looked the same – dark and rocky with caverns here and there. She had a sinking feeling that she would never see the light of day again.

The two-headed giant stopped in front of a large ornate wooden door. It was being guarded by two of those winged skeleton creatures she had encountered the day before.

“State your business,” droned one of the guards.

“I’ve brought the human as the Beholder wished.”

“Enter.”

The giant passed through the open doors, entering into a large circular cavern. The giant placed Alex on a triangle that was drawn on the floor and then quickly backed away. Looking around, she was surprised to see that the place was covered ceiling to floor in highly polished black marble. There were five torches that hung on the wall in various places, casting eerie shadows and reflections around the room. In the center of the room hovered a large black drape that stuck out at odd angles but was not supported in any way that she could see.

A knot of fear formed in Alex’s stomach as she realized that this must be the creature that lurks at the center of the mountain. She waited with apprehension for what would be revealed to her.

“Leave us,” spoke a cold icy voice.

Alex shook her head for she thought the voice came from within her head but how could that be. The two-headed giant left the room, simultaneously the black drape fell. Alex clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream.

There in front of her was a floating eye the size of a large steer. The eyelid was lined with seven long tentacles, each containing another eye. These tentacles moved about in various directions, the eyes never blinking.

“You have caused quite a stir since your arrival to this dimension.” Again the voice seemed to originate from within her head. “Let’s have a look at who you were before arriving here.”

All the eyes focused on her and she felt a searing pain in her eyes, as if somebody was burning them. She tried to close her eyes but they would not budge, desperately she tried to look away but her eyeballs would not respond to her bidding. Images began to flash through her head so quickly that she couldn’t catch what they were. Babies, people, voices – they all went by so rapidly. But it was the image of the house burning that caught her attention; then she knew that these flashes were her life.

“Interesting. You have a lot for me to feed off of – loneliness, bitterness, sadness, hatred – you are a cesspool of negative emotions. I especially like this one.” The image of her father being shot down played out over and over again in her mind.

“Stop!” screamed Alex. A sickening laugh reverberated in her head, branding it as if she were cattle. She gingerly touched a hand to her head, half expecting to find it singed and raw but she felt nothing but her hair.

“You humans are all the same –you allow your emotions to ensnare you. You think you’re better than the dark side? You are the dark side.” Again the hideous laughter rang out in her head.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She whispered, tears running down her cheeks. Her will to fight, to live, vanishing into thin air and all that was left was despair.

“You have the mark upon your head,” spoke the voice within her head, “very dim, but there all the same. I will not kill you now, you have too much power for me to absorb. I think we will put you in the pit with the others. Good – bye Alexandra Fields.” The drape reappeared and the room was quiet once again.

Alex stood there in a daze, void of all hope. She didn’t hear the two-headed giant slip back into the room, didn’t notice him picking her up once again. They exited through the doors and trekked further into the mountain. She no longer had the desire to try and map out an escape route. She no longer had the desire to live nor did she care, but something told her that these sick creatures would not let her die.

Questions for Explanations

Moe stared with disbelief. “It can’t be, I saw you die. The explosion….there was no way anyone could have survived.”

Ellifaine Frowned, “Most did not. Only I and one other made it out alive.”

“But how? We had set the explosives ourselves, you were supposed to be in the clear before I detonated, why did you divert from the mission?”

“There were complications. I was prepping the last semtec charge when I heard a whimper. There was a small child in the room with me.”

“But Intel told us it was only the target”

“Well intel was wrong or they just did not care. Either way the small boy was there. I deactivated my charge straight away and was making my way towards yours when you detonated.”

Moe shuddered, he had relived that moment a thousand times before.

“Had I known I would have never pressed that button.”

“I know, believe me I know, it was all my fault. I should have continued, but the child, there was something in his eyes. Anyway when your charge detonated the blast wave blew me and the child out of the upper window and onto the shrubberies. We were singed up pretty good but alive.”

“Why did you not find me sooner?”

“If Ergos knew what I had done, they would have killed the child and myself also. No I had to disappear. For both our sakes.”

Moe thought to himself. The reasoning made sense, but he could not help but feeling angry and hurt. All the years he had agonized over her death. Reliving it almost nightly in his nightmares, but she was here now very much alive.

“Where have you been? How did you find me?

“There is much to explain as to where I have been and I feel that there may be time for that later. But as to how I found you…well you have been under surveillance for some time now.”

“Surveillance, buy whom? You are not with Ergos are you?” Moe said his muscles tightening.

“No! No. Relax” Ellifaine said seeing his obvious reaction. “No I work for a very different organization now. One that has a main purpose of bring Ergos down called Echo Mirage. But there will be time for all that later. We have to get moving.”

“I can’t leave” Moe said frowning “There are complications”

“I know I heard the conversation between you and Zhu-Rong. Remember, you were under surveillance. Besides I brought you a present.”

She sheathed her vibroblade and in the same fluid motion swung a small satchel onto the counter, stirring up a rather large cloud of dust. Moe walked over and opened it. He fumbled through the contents picking out one item in particular, and stood up to his full height placing a large hand on the fragile looking elf’s shoulder.

“I think I like this plan.” Moe said smiling.

New Blood (Watchers)

Restlessly the two young women sat across the conference table from each other. They knew each other from work and had been social on occasion, but neither would use the descriptor ‘friends’ to describe their relationship with each other. Also at the table sitting across from each as well were Dylan Dogge and Greg R’mendle. Mr. Dogge was the resident technofile, all things bleeding edge his bailiwick and too Mr. R’mendle was given the task of organizing and cataloguing the reams of information that the Watcher’s generated, but also requested to further their goals. The head of the table was filled by Sir Edward Hilla Ray, pipe wielding father figure for the organization.

“Now Lizabeth, Amy I understand these will be the first field op’s for both of you. Mr. Dogge, R’mendle and myself all feel that you are both uniquely qualified.” Sliding each a bound portfolio he continued. “ The subjects, as you can see…” he gestured indicating to the women to open their packets “…are also siblings. Lizabeth, your charge has recently become aware of his possibilities. Amy, yours has not but we feel that due to the close proximity he keeps with his brother it will only be a matter of time.”

Pushing the pipe from one side of his mouth to the other he continued. “We have set up living quarters, in the ‘city’ and you have receive the usual start up equipment and stipend.” Again motioning toward the packets. “Do you have any questions?”

“What about next of kin?” Amy asked.

“You need to excuse three weeks for this one. Due to some concerns, we want you on topic, incommunicado for that long to set up. After that we will make arrangements.” He finished the redish smoke from his pipe collecting and circling over his head.
“Anything else, Lizabeth?”

“No sir.”

As the five Watchers were standing a youngish man hopped into the room. Handing Sir Edward a note he exited just as abruptly.

Pursing his lips around the pipe stem, his brow furrowed as he read.

“Amy it seems your charge has showed his unique nature as well. And damn it all he’s been keeping some interesting company.” He added handing the note to the female Watcher.

“A confirmation from the Knights means that he’s…”

“Yes more then likely, they seldom miss.” Sir Edward responded facing the table and bending forward to place both palms atop it. “Very well… ladies, Mr. Dogge attend to it then. Mr. R’mendle a moment.”

“Yes, Sir Edward?”

“Check with the Knights and see what we can get. If they won’t say give them the information about our two young lasses. I don’t want our arses caught in any of their crossfires. That Magdalena, bitch has busted our chops before. Come to think of it we haven’t heard from Highpoint in awhile either, so if you can run him down as well…outside the Knights.” The last he added grabbing Greg by the elbow as he left the room.

“It was so much easier watching when I was a lad.” Sir Edward breathed as he sat back down into the Captain’s chair at the head of the table.

Rewind- part 5 (Caramon)

Entering his rock/peat hut Caramon could smell the after scents of a recent vision quest.

“Rhiannon?” he called out just as his beautifully voluptuous wife swept the hides aside showing her location to be their sleeping chamber.

“Come to me my husband. I am wet and my centre longs for your touch.” She beckoned slowly backing as he entered their inner most room, keeping the same teasing distance between them. When she could back no further she spread herself atop the hides and blankets as one would a festival meal, slowly drawing her hands up her legs pulling her leathers up with them. Never one to turn down a ‘meal’ Caramon enjoyed the tastes and sensations only his mate could provide. As they lay gathering their breath and wits Rhiannon whispered to her man using words rather then the grunts and moans of the past several minutes.

“I have spoken to ‘The Ancestors’.”

“Did they tell you to rut my brains out” Caramon asked grinning.

“No Caramon they said as the chief of our tribe I must cast you out.” She replied holding his face so she could see in his eyes the understanding of the import of her words.

“I was not meant to survive the battle with Wormwood.” He stated twisting out of her grasp and sitting up, her words confirming a fear he had felt since his recovery.

“You are strong my love but our people will not believe that strong and you were bitten. It will be only until the next cycle that you remain human, your destiny is to be one of the ‘Shadow Walkers’. In the morning the tribe will meet and I will be made to pronounce you ‘outcast’.”

“Do you fear me?” he asked pleading with her, for the answer he sought, with his eyes.

“Not this night.” She answered as she bent to breathe life back into his withered manhood.

Rhiannon and Caramon waxed and waned the entire night, enjoying pleasures the two had so long thought forgotten under the weight of the acceptance of their separate tribal responsibilities. Too soon the first guinea crowed signaling his coming exile. Caramon slipped from beneath his lover’s; his wife’s; his chieftess’ grasp not wanting to rouse her as he prepped for his journey.

Gathering provisions for three days and spare togs he stuffed them into a bladder. Securing his sabers he flipped the bladder over his back, hefted his staff and parted the furs overhanging the entrance to his ‘love’ room. Looking once more at the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever beheld he cold but marvel at the love she was capable of in choosing to lead her people. Feeling his groin stir he left with that thought still clinging to the edges of his mind.

“I will miss you my love. Journey safely my wolf, my Phaedrus.” Rhiannon mumble to herself as tears falling from her hazel eyes.

Stepping out into the thickening dawn Caramon looked over the huts of his people content that in spite of loosing their shaman they would do well under the guidance of his wife and chieftess, Rhiannon. Setting course Caramon mac Bochra journey west out of Skara Brae wishing to remain in darkness as long as possible.

Slowly the edges of the memory grew faint and spidered inward until all that remained was the wispy fragments felt as one awakens from sleep. Carefully Phae finished wiping down the sabre with the oilclothe he had in hand and placed it gingerly atop its twin. Wrapping both in a cracked and weathered animal bladder he secured both in the ornate box that was their home. The box in turn was placed in a cubby beneath the bar to await the time when the hunt would be resumed.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

“Give me that, you bloody fool. You’re gonna cut your thumb off.”

“Leave me be, I can do it meself with no ‘elp from the likes of you.”

The argument continued, disturbing Alex from her dreams. Not wanting her new guards to know that she was awake she feigned sleep. Her head was throbbing and her body ached from being in the same position too long.

“I tell ya, she’s got some sort of leather on underneath that web. I ‘erd Jolk talkin’ ‘bout it at dinner”

“Let’s just take the shoes an’ be done with ‘er. They’ll be lookin’ for ‘er ‘ere soon. I don’t want ta ‘ave a run in with that dragon thing, ‘e’s bad to the bones, that one is.”

“Awe, quit your complainin’ an’ ‘elp me get these things off.”

Alex felt something tugging on her boots, finally freeing one of them. Anger boiled up inside of her ‘I’ve lost my family, my horse, saddle bags, and guns – you’re not taking my boots.’ Stewing silently, she kept her eyes shut.

“I don’t care what ya say, I’m cutting ‘er loose. I want them leather britches.”

Alex felt tugging at her web bindings accompanied by cool air on her body. She repressed the urge to stretch.

“Blimey! You were right, Sted, the dame’s got leather on.”

Opening her eyes just a slit she observed the situation. There were two brownish-green things in the cavern, they reminded her of the scum on stagnant water and smelled just as bad. One of the things was studying her boot. Both creatures were smaller than she was but she did not underestimate their strength. ‘Strong but dumb, always a bad combination’ she thought.

As one of them knelt down to cut off her chaps she saw her opportunity. Quickly, she brought up her knee, meeting the creature square in the chest and throwing it back against the floor. Jumping up she snatched her boot from the still shocked Sted, slashing him across the face with the spur. Yellow blood oozed from the wound and he howled in pain. Jamming her foot into the boot she ran for the opening of the cave.

“Grab ‘er !” Yelled Sted, clutching a grubby hand to his face.

The other thing had already recovered and was quickly at her side. Grabbing a handful of hair he threw her back into the cavern. Alex landed on her backside but swiftly got to her feet. Standing with her fists drawn she waited for the assault. Sted, intent on revenge, approached her first. Instantly, she jabbed with her right fist, breaking the creature’s nose and causing more yellow blood to flow.

“I’m gonna rip your bloody ‘ead off!” he screamed as he cupped his nose between his hands, tears rolling down his face from the pain.

“I’ve got ya covered, Sted,” the other thing leaped across the room landing on top of Alex.

Punching, kicking, and clawing she finally worked her way free. She was covered in yellow blood and smelled like an outhouse but she was free. Seeing her chance, she sprinted for the opening, leaving the two creatures moaning and cursing on the floor.

Alex darted into a side passage and pressed her back against the dark rock wall trying to get her bearings. She had no idea how to get out of this place but she had to try. Looking about she saw that the passage was empty except for the thump-thump of the drum. Taking a guess, she decided to go right and hope for the best.

Rewind- part 4 (Caramon)

Having been released by those filling in as the tribes healers, Caramon being the actual healer for his people, he decide to stop at the fest hall for a tea before returning to his quarters. A sudden mist seemed to creep and cling to the village as Caramon got momentarily turned around on a trip he had taken thousands of times in the past. Quizzically he finally found the hall and stopped, glancing behind him as he swept the door furs aside revealing the threshold he knew. Stepping through the portal Caramon encountered a wall of silence cast by the few occupants as he made his way to the serving bench.

“What have you, priest?” the burly bear of a man asked Caramon as he settled himself into a stumpseat.

“Greentea, if the water is hot.”

“So shall it be.”

Glancing around Caramon felt he could almost feel the stares penetrate his skin.

“You seem to have fallen from grace, they fear you.” The barkeep said handing Caramon a kiln fired mug full of steaming tea.

“If they rush me a may have need of that peculiar rod.” Caramon said referencing an ornately jeweled stave that Greyshore always kept handy in a tree bough behind the bar.

“If the rod be raised this night it will be so by me. I will brook no damage to my hut.” The viking replied bending down to peer into Caramon’s eyes.

As he sipped his tea one of the tribesmen broke away from the increasingly agitated pack and approached Caramon.

“You and I would have words…priest,” the tribesman said spitting the last word.

“Yes, Aglea?”

“Where is the sprite,” he asked surveying both of Caramon’s shoulders.

“I set her loose when I was attacked. No sense in keeping her obligated to a ‘dead’ man”

“Dead you should be, shaman. Why is that not so?”

“The fates have other plans I reckon” Caramon replied sipping from his mug. He had also started mumbling, in his head, the glamour that would result in a word of power.

“Why did my Faydre not have the blessing of the fates, or Palerg, Santre or even young Lomkte? Why could you not secure the favor of the fates for them, saving it only for yourself.”

Caramon could very the tension increase to an almost palpable level, noting the increase in rumblings from those in the pack that agreed with Aglea’s words. Greyshore also felt the emotion in the aire sliding nearer his protective ‘rod’.

“I did not seek the fates favour, they bestowed it themselves.” Caramon said setting the mug down, having finished his mental incantation.

“Were you bitten by the Wormwood?” Aglea asked, stepping back from Caramon.

“Not that we know of.”

“I hear tell you were. When next the moon fills the night you will change.”

“What is your concern Aglea, why hound me?”

“You are of the Infernal Caramon. No man can survive what you did, nor wield the powers you do without succumbing.”

With that pronouncement the pack charged Caramon.

“Stop” Caramon bellowed charging the air with the glamour be had stored within his mind. At the utterance of the word the group of men found themselves unable to move, their muscles frozen. They did however retain control of their senses.

“If I were of the Infernal I would kill you men for the insult to my person, rest assured I will not.” Caramon said rising from his seat. Finishing his tea he set the mug atop the serving log.

“Thank you for the respite Greyshore,” Caramon directed at the burly Viking, a subtle indication that no more aggression would in sue.

“Indeed wizard, indeed.” Greyshore replied relaxing his grasp on the jewel encrusted battle stave.

“Aglea, I am who I have always been. The tribe entrusted to me their well being. I have not strayed from that path. If it is decided that my time as priest is at an end then so be it.”

“The tribe will speak of that very thing on the morrow. We fear you and want you gone…lycan.” With those parting words Aglea passed out through the portal and was gone.

Rubbing his face Caramon digested all that had just transpired. “They will thaw in a bit,” he said to GreyShore in regards to the glamoured pack of tribemen. Slowly turning the shaman/priest also exited through the same portal Aglea had used.

The Spider and the Fly

The passage ways were dark other than the occassional wall torch that emitted an eerie orange glow. However, those too were soon absorbed into the blackness of the tunnels. There was a constant drumming sound that echoed through the caves. It's rhythem strong and methodical as if beating out a pace to be kept, but for what Alex could only guess. Mixed in with the thump-thump of the drum was the tink-tink of pick axes stricking rock. A sound all too familiar to the girl after having spent time in a mine as punishment. For such a dreary place, it was certainly full of activity.

Alex could hear things moving around the spider\woman but due to her bindings, she couldn't move her head to see what was lurking about. Something told her that she ought to be glad she couldn't see anything.

Her 'ride' would occassionally stop to adjust its load or talk to somebody. Overall, they kept a steady pace, moving ever closer to the heart of the mountain.

"That's far enough, Sherpice," came a loud icy voice, startling Alex from her thoughts. "I have been told to bring the human the rest of the way."

The spider had stopped, taking in the situation at hand. "You lie" she shot back, her beady black eyse starring down the creature at hand. "Who sent you?"

"The Beholder."

"Since when does your kind transport prisoners? It has always been the job of the driders. Your kind has a habbit of draining them from their life source before it it time." Sherpice began to move forward again but suddenly slid back as if pushed.

"Give it to me!" boomed the other creature as he raised himself up to his full height.

Not wanting to wait for the other to attack her, the spider/woman quickly climbed up to the ceilling and darted away in the direction from whence they just came. From this new vantage point, Alex was able to see everything. She quickly regretted not closing her eyes for the image she saw would surely haunt her dreams.

The creature in pursuit of them was nothing but a skeleton, just bones with glowing red eyes. It had enormous wings coming from its back and long razor sharp teeth. As it stormed through the passages behind them he blew fire from his mouth. Other creatures that weren't bright enough to move out of the way were quickly squashed beneath the huge clawed feet. Those that did move grumbled and cursed the large beast of bones.

From several side tunnels came other spider/things, intent on helping one of their own. Together they quickly began weaving a series of huge webs. This accomplished nothing but angering the beast even more.

Suddenly, Alex felt herself falling, whether on purpose or by accident she didn't know. Still bundled in the cocoon, she had no way of breaking the fall. She landed on the rock floor with a dull thud, her head bouncing on the ground as if it were a ball. Blackness threatend to overtake her once again, but she fought against the sinking feeling. There was screeching and screaming all around her. She could feel the heat coming off of the winged beast's fire. Before she completely lost consciousness, she felt something roughly grabbing her feet and dragging her away, her face scraping against the ground. Finally, she succumbed to the darkness, her mind wandering back to more familiar times and places.

Rewind- part3 (Caramon)

It’s been three months since the initial attack on Skara Brae by the lycan wehyr, led by Wormwood. Caramon has neglected his calling to be a teacher/shaman to his people in favor of a never ending search for his only born son Vercenge. The staff and priestly leathers of a former life lay in his hovel, cold and without meaning. Now the hide breastplate and chaps are warm and supple with use, twin sabers of meteoric steel filling the hands of a hunter/father. Daily Caramon has searched the countryside for some sign of Vercenge or the lycan wehyr responsible for his abduction. His lover/wife/chieftess initially gave her blessing to her mate’s endeavors. Now they have consumed him and he no longer requests nor requires the blessing of neither Rhiannon nor anyone else.

Peering through the brush Caramon fixed his sights on the small, crude hovel being constructed by a group of rather scruffy men and women. This was the fourth such structure he had tracked and watched this group of people build over the last month.

“It’s a wheyr,” he whispered to Thorne his ever present faere companion. Bound to him though she was, the creature had become endeared to this human and willingly accompanied and assisted him.

“Is it his though?”

“It matters not. The lycan have declared a warfare on humans.”

Taking a deep breath, Caramon parted the brush and started a slow, alert walk that would place him in the midst of the group.

“Hail good people, have you a spokesperson?” Caramon called out just as he was noticed by the first of the group. Being in human form all were still lycan and to a man/woman
they took notice of this presumptuous human wielding twin sabers with a faere perched on his shoulder.

“We are ‘outcast’. Our thought is to just try to make a hovel to sleep in.” one of the males said as he turned and started to approach Caramon. Apparently the seven or eight others took this as a signal to also slowly start toward him as well.

“Outcast are you? Do you know of one called…. Wormwood?” Caramon inquired his hands steadily sliding toward the pommels of his sabers, his mind incanting the beginnings of a ‘glamour’.

At the mention of their wehyr alpha’s name the entire group stopped advancing on Caramon and instead focused on melting from their human from into the transition from.
Where there had been eight humans there now stood eight lycans of varied fur color, all eight feet tall or better. Their rejected, defeated human demeanor replaced by teeth, claws and iron like bone and sinew.

Although out manning him by eight to one and knowing that their physical form was far greater then that of the human, the wehyr was reluctant to make the first move. This human was different he showed no fear of his situation and he reeked of ‘glamour’.

Taking quick stock of the change in situation, Caramon drew his twin sabers and stood holding both out in front and slightly to the side of his body, chest high. As his lips finished the ‘glamour’ he sprinted toward his left pouncing on the entire right flank of the wehyr’s informal formation.

The initiative his, Caramon shouted ‘kill’ at the lycan who’s face he had almost magically appeared in front of, releasing the stored ‘glamour’ in the form of a power word. As they watched their wehyrmate crumple to the ground, as would a marionette with it’s strings cut, the shaman/warrior introduced two more to the action ends of his sabers. Using his momentum he thrust both blades into the furry throats of the lycans to his immediate left and right. Momentarily listening to their death rattles he rotated both of his wrists ninety degrees and by performing a grizzly pirouette separated all bone and sinew that maintained their heads connection with their torsos.

To finish his macabre ballet Caramon turned toward the rest of the pack, flipped his sabers downward, to relieve them of any blood or gristle clinging to them and raised them again chest high the left held out toward the lycans and the right held close to his body. What seemed like an eternity of motion to him had in reality been a few scant seconds of exertion.

“Niiice.” Thorne whispered softly, for fear of prematurely loosing the ‘glamour’ she had been storing during Caramon’s grisly dance recital. Having watched their mates struck down several of the remaining lycans charged Caramons position. Unfortunately they did so one momentarily behind the other almost in single file, allowing him to fight them briefly one at a time. That heartbeat or two between attacks was more then enough to give the warrior/priest the advantage.

The first, a large male, was quickly dispatch via a blinding right handed upstroke from crotch to crown and left crosscut follow up that literally quartered the lycan. The right blade now held in front of his face and the left perpendicular in behind that, in the shape of a ‘T’ Caramon met the next attacker. Taking a step backward he executed a high to low crosscut with both weapons that cut the second attacker in half. Sensing her companion was off balance with both arms outstretched to his sides Thorne released her ‘glamour’. An ebony bolt suddenly reduced the last attacker to a cloud of gore that finely coated everything within a ten-foot radius. Assuming a more readily defensible stance Caramon prepared himself for the final two lycans, his lips once again mumbling.

Deciding to attempt a different tact the remaining two lycans slowly started to circle Caramon, walking in opposite directions. Watching them cross the first time Caramon chose to attack the second time they passed each other. Leery of the gristmill this human had turned out to be the two lycans were ready for this last attack. One rolled across Caramons path from left to right and the other flipped up and over his body. The resulting rending off flesh belonged not to Caramon’s sabers but instead to the supernaturally sharp claws of the lycans. Staggering slightly from the attacked Caramon maintained a distance from his attackers; his swords held tip first in the direction of the lycans, now circling their weakened prey separated by ninety degrees from each other.

Thorne flitted from Caramon’s shoulder surveying the damage to her handler’s body a healing ‘glamour’ forming on her lips. Before she was able to release the healing energy, the lycan duo attacked again.

Quietly jumping atop the small hovel from the backside, Wormwood laid his giant frame out, resting his great maw casually on his two paws he watched the games being played down below not wanting his presence know for fear of intruding. Grinning he knew these two females would be more then a mouthful for the human.

Again attacking separately one female leapt toward the slowing warrior/priest while at the same time the other melted into lupine form and charged low. Caramon met this latest attack knowing that his defense would burn out any energy reserves he had left. Squatting quickly to avoid the higher of the two attackers he thrust his right blade into the air feeling it penetrate smoothly as would a man his wet lover, twisting it he released his weapon, allowing the attackers momentum to rip the blade from his hand. Lurching to his left he thrust downward with his left blade pinning the last attacker to the ground his weapon entering the females crown and exiting through her throat. Falling roughly into a seated position it was then he felt the pain. Looking at his leg he found it caught in the great jaws of the female, her teeth grating against bone, her venom slowly seeping into his system. The knowledge slowly filtering through the ‘battle rage’ that no matter the outcome of this battle, his next battle would surely be lost.

Silently leaping down from atop his perch, Wormwood kicked his way through the body parts as would a human child playing with a feather filled leather hack-sack. Stopping briefly to extract the saber that had been used to kill so many of his children over the past months, he drew it slowly across the palm of his hand. Watching thin wisps of smoke leave his flesh drifting upward, “Curious” he mumbled. He finally stopped his slow, thought filled shuffle directly behind Caramon.

With only enough energy to twist looking back over his shoulder at the towering lycan, Caramon witnessed the blow dealt by Wormwood with the pommel of his own sword. Caramon’s stored glamour exited his lips like a warm breath on a cold morning evaporating into the breeze

“Fear not little faere,” Worwood voiced as he sensed the ‘glamour’ build up within Caramon’s companion. Dropping the sword flat onto his foe’s chest, Wormwood completed his thought, “Our battle, the shaman and I, has been foretold for another time…another place. When he awakens, tell him he’s earned my respect. I am all that remains now of my wehyr and I will not ‘recruit’ again until we have settled this. Watch him well faere, for so will I.”

Watching Wormwood bound into the woods and out of sight Thorne checked quickly to ensure Caramon was breathing and still warm to the touch. Assured of his survival, for the time being, she unclipped her anklet and flitted off down the path in the direction of Skara Brae.

Rewind- part 2 (Caramon)

Caramon carefully recited the recipe for the healing draught to the newest gathering of initiates in attendance at Tar’na’Nog, Skara Brae’s center of teaching. As he serpentined his way through the sitting boys and girls, in an attempt to keep their attention, reciting ingredient after ingredient the first of the screams reached the delicate ears of Thorne, his fairy companion.

“We are attacked, Caramon.” She said as the first scream loud enough reached his ears. Being of a warrior race his first instinct was to fight when roused. Sprinting in the direction of the summer fields, from where the screams had sounded, Caramon dropped his priestly staff knowing the time for sagely advice was not at hand, he instead drew the double sabers he carried strapped to scabbards across his chest. Thorne climbed atop his left ear and grasped his hair, knowing the ride would get rougher before it ended. Clearing the last copse of trees he beheld the sight of dozens of his people running in all directions some bloodied some not, while at the same time dark, furry shapes darted from human to human.

“Lycans.” he hissed tracking an intercepting course for the nearest, oblivious of the fact that Caramon had his sites on it, just as its sights were set on a young female.

Without warning the lycan, in wolf form, was struck by what could only be called a force of nature. Jumping astride the creature the shaman/warrior sliced at the beast hoping to distract it from its intended target. When finally he had the beasts attention Caramon deftly leveled both sabers beneath the great creatures throat and with force enough to fell a tree drew both simultaneously up and out severing the head completely from the torso. As the beast skidded to a halt, the smell of seared flesh filling his nostrils, Caramon stood looking for his next target. Thorne smiled thinly at the display of unbridled ferocity that would make even the staunchest minotaur proud.

Before fully gathering his wits Caramon was in turn struck by what felt like a mountain of muscle. Instincts taking hold he continued to roll until the great weight lessened and he allowed his momentum to take him one roll further, popping up into a defensive crouch facing the direction from which he had just rolled both sabers held before him incanting the beginnings of a ‘glamour’ in his head.

Intently watching was the creature that had jumped him. His features melting from that of it’s lupine form into that of its transition from, Fremtis watched his victim. What he did not see concerned him greatly, for this human neither looked nor smelled afraid. Slowly circling his prey the creature towered a good two feet over his stout six foot plus target. Caramon also circled, trying to maintain a two stride distance between he and the Frem wehyr alpha.

Suddenly Fremtis leapt, the two stride distance dissolving in the blink of an eye. Simultaneously, by providence, Carmon loosed his ‘glamour’.

”Stop.” He ordered. A normal human would have frozen in mid movement its muscles unable to respond. The lycan on the other hand, not being mortal, slowed only minutely. The opening was enough for the fighting shaman. Taking a step toward the beast, crouching and leveling both sabers Caroman braced for impact. His momentum toward his attacker combined with that generated by his attackers movement toward his position sure to culminate in a bone breaking collision. Instead what happened was that Throne loosed the ‘glamour’ she had been preparing since the rippling of the first scream. Twin beams of ebony energy arced from Caramons blades intersecting with the form of the great lycan. The mist of flesh and body fluids that soaked Caramon replaced his anticipated collision rather then the expected body.

Opening his eyes, Caramon stood and wiped at the ichor dripping down his lips and threatening to obscure his vision, a misty red haze settling lazily toward mother earth.

“Thanks.” he voiced as he ran picking up speed in search of his next target.

“There Caramon, Vercenge.” Thorne exclaimed directing her mounts attention toward his own son’s plight.

“NOOOO” he screamed knowing that it would be nearly impossible for him to intercept the lycan pursuing his son in transition form, both were running away from Caramon towards the opposite tree line.

“Ceenggeee.” Caramon yelled his legs pumping toward his target. Just as the boy disappeared into the tree line the lycan stopped and looked directly at Caramon, who was still running as if to make his heart burst. The black furred creature with a gray stripe across his eye’s smiled and leapt into the woods in pursuit of his prey. Caramon grayed out with that image burned into his memory.

“Vercenge.” Caramon screamed clutching for the twin sabers he knew to be resting in their scabbards across his chest.”

“Love, stop. You’re ok.” Rhiannon yelled back throwing herself across her beloved’s body in a reflexive effort to prevent him from harming himself in his confusion. “Vercenge is gone, we will find him.” She said grasping either side of Caramons head and holding him so that all he could see was the depthless love that radiated from her hazel eyes. Caramon started sobbing, his wife/chieftess joined with his sorrow, the two lovers/parents sharing their grief together.

Rewind (Caramon)

Carefully, quietly Caramon slithered up the hill on his belly. Slightly cresting the hill he inched eastward around his side of the hillock summit to eventually place himself behind a small rock that would allow him better cover from which to observe the faere festivities going on down slope of his vantage point and in the narrow box vale below. Beside him lay a staff, made of dogwood and topped by a large turquoise crystal it was his by right of being a Priest of Morrigan and spiritual guide to his Wold tribe. Strapped to his chest he carried twin sabers tempered of meteoric iron from a source know only to the males of his bloodline, his by training as a warrior and eldest male of the clan mac Bochra. The man himself was a most awesome weapon, his by birthright. For he would soon come to learn that he could survive even the most fatal of wounds with but faint glimpses of the light awaiting at the end journey.

Caramon knew the staff and sabers would be of no use. He neither wanted to enchant nor outright kill the creature he hunted this day. In his mind’s eye he ran and reran his stratagem. He knew that if he was to get close enough to the throng of creatures below he would over hear the name of a female faere. When that creature went to the flats to bathe before returning to her realm he could utter her name while making eye contact and bind that faere to him, for a duration of his choosing. The strength that would be bestowed to his tribe by communion with one of the immortal faerun was near orgasmic for the celibate man.

The specifics of his plan had not been so easily deduced and that was what Caramon was entertaining at the moment. The midnite had just passed so he knew he had several hours still to work his plan. He was captivated by the beauty and grace exhibited by the vast variety of creatures only glimpsed in this plane, yet common place for the faerun realm. The sounds and colors were enough to ‘glamour’ untrained men; fortunately his training for the priesthood dispelled most of the majic. Reaching to the small of his back he fingered the small, enchanted net he carried, to insure it was held fast. This he would use only as a last resort to ensnare whatever he could should his main objective prove too illusive. Satisfied that his physical preparations were adequate he bent himself to the task of finding a route down the hillock and over into the northern end of the box vale where the faere’s had gathered this night.

The faere were not know to have the keenest hearing in the faerun realm, probably due to their constant loud merrymaking. The downfall of most mortals was the fact that they knew not that the faere had vision that could detect the slightest movement not made by the natural trees and plant life they typically surrounded themselves with. Most hunters moved through the brush as a means of attack, Caramon knew that to get close enough to overhear a name he would need to move with the brush. Be the brush.

Slowly sliding back down the hill, perpendicular to its rise in elevation he eventually reached the base. Still laying flat, his cheek against the dewy grass he circled the hill maintain a northwest tack. After what seemed like hours of painstakingly quiet slithering, much in the same way he envisioned the serpents of legend would travel, the hill receded to his left and the terrain before him opened into the north-south running box vale he had espied from his earlier perch.
He now made his way into a copse of alder, his belly still affixed to mother earth, as if making love to her bounty. Glancing up occasionally he wound his way through the ever increasing density of the brush that was the sacred token of his bloodline. Stopping briefly to take his bearing Caramon thought of the subtle majics that were his to control. Knowing full well that any use would immediately alert all the faere to his presence and in turn damn his quest for another twelve moon. Peering toward the edge of the alder copse Caramon could still make out the cavorting of the faere, their music exerting a strong glamour on his senses due to his proximity. Focusing his mind he continued on parallel to the clearing trying to get to the densest part of the copse, thereby putting him within a couple arm lengths from the reveling faere.

No sooner had he achieved his intended position, that the name Thorne Goblinfly was carried to him by a slight whisper of wind. Carefully tucking the name away in his sub-consciousness Caramon began the arduous task of slithering away to the nearest flat, knowing full well this particular one was closest and most frequented by the faere of Arcaibh dolmen.

When he entered the flat, Caramon took up station behind a large boulder adjacent to the entrance path. Faere’s came and went by rote and he knew if he blocked the path the faere would be momentarily confused as to how to leave. Just as he as drifting off the faint jingle made by the wings rubbing together as a faere walked drifted to his ears. Waiting a few moments more Caramon eased his body onto the path and approached the batheing fairy. As she came into view Caramon was awestruck by the faere’s delicate beauty, her back was to him and she had not heard his approach. Waiting for her to turn towards him Caramon watched as the delicate creature continued to bathe herself in the salty surface water of the flat, the ‘tinkling’ of her wings constant. Turning, oblivious to her plight she beheld the human.

“Hello, Thorne Goglinfly.” Caramon said, as she looked up into his blue eyes, each larger then her own head.

“And hello to you, Caramon.” She replied continuing with her bathe.

Drawing his feet beneath him Caramon crossed his legs as if watching faere’s bathe was an everyday occurrence for him.

“It seems you have done a superb job of catching me unawares and snaring my services.”

“I will not hurt you ‘fair one’. I only require your glamour.”

“It is yours to command what would you have of me?” she asked dressing and lighting atop Caramon’s left shoulder.

Slowly he held out to her a ‘cold iron’ anklet attached by way of a delicate moonbeam to and ear band. As she snapped the anklet shut around her ankle, he felt the telltale pinch of the ear band snapping into place as well. By using the small drop of blood caused by the tines piercing his cartilage Caramon completed the ‘binding’ glamour when he placed an atom’s width mark on her forehead.

“You know the spell well shaman,” she stated slightly moved by the delicateness with which Caramon enthralled her.

“My word is my bond, my bond my life. My word is that I will never harm you purposefully; the bond is the moonbeam that binds us. If I go against my word, my life is yours for the taking. So swear I beneath the eyes of Morigann my benefactress.”

“You swear fealty to me though you own my fealty by right. How can this be?” she asked puzzled by the actions of her human captor.

“We are equals, you and I. I just needed something to maintain your attention.” he replied flicking the almost transparent moonbeam with his finger. Gingerly standing so as not to topple his rider, Caramon began the several days long trek that would again bring him within sight of his beloved village, Skara Brae.

Brandy Buck (Brandy, Phae, Casey)

Brandy packed her bags for her trip. Being relatively well traveled she had this particular chore down to a science. As per usual she was traveling light, everything she would need for her visit held in a duffel bag and a leather backpack. Those most essential items she made sure to stow in the specially designed pouches of the backpack. Her shuriken and throwing knives, blessed by a priest and doused with holy water, she placed into the four side pockets. Her uniform, a bodysuit of interwoven Kevlar and climate controlling micro tubules, she folded and placed into the main compartment atop the already packed boots and gloves designed by her Stormcenter handlers. The last item was her hooded cape. A marvel of modern science that garment, attuned to Brandy’s unique bio-electric frequency it could only be activated by such. It provided a measure of security from external forces be they natural or otherwise by means of the same basic design as her bodysuit. However in addition when worn hood up a gravitic generator was activated that enveloped her in a sphere two meters in diameter that bent light rays and allowed them to travel around the sphere. The effect was that anything within the sphere was rendered completely invisible to all forms of electromagnetic detection. Only by tactile contact she by located.

The final two pieces of the puzzle Brandy located on her person. The first was her rosary, into place around her neck this went and second was a three-inch long metal stud she located in a leather pouch fixed to her belt. The beads and charms on the rosary could be detached for a variety of effects i.e. smoke, tear gas, plastique and the metal stud was her primary weapon in her battles against the Infernal forces. This piece of metal was psionically sensitive and could assume shapes and consistencies as directed by the wielder. It was a sliver of the famed Witchblade that the church had come into possession of centuries ago and was the signature weapon of each succeeding generation’s Magadelena. Brandy most often wielded the ‘living metal’ as and eight foot long bo staff, this being the closest approximation to her weapon of choice, the Spear of Destiny which was guarded in the armory of the Knights of Malta and only used in times of direst need.

Checking herself in the mirror one last time, she left the apartment locking the door behind her and hailed a cab indicating her desire to go to Serendipity.

Dropping her bags just inside the portal she sprinted to and nearly vaulted the bar in an attempt to encircle her arms around the tree trunk sized neck of Phae.

“Hello Brandy” Phae said staring directly into the face mere inches from his own.

“Hey” she replied showing no signs of releasing Phae from her grip.

Phae was determined to not avert his gaze from that of the beautiful girl until she felt compelled to explain…. just what the hell was going on.

“You never kiss me,” she said finally relaxing and placing her nubile bottom on the nearest barstool.

“You never ask” Phae replied wiping down the bar with his ever-present bar towel.

“Well shit if I hafta ask it ain’t no fun,” she pouted. Entering the common room via the stairwell, Casey’s reaction upon seeing Brandy was similar to Brandy’s upon seeing Phae. Suddenly the two were embraced, not unlike long lost lovers, and broke that embrace only after a mutual peck on the lips.

“All packed?” Casey asked taking up position on the nearest barstool.

“Yep” she said throwing a thumb over her shoulder toward the front portal.

“How long you gonna be gone?”

“I’m not sure. My uncle says there’s some business I need to get done with. Being a European heiress can sure take up a lot of time. I don’t even want it.”

“We all carry the burden of less popular responsibilities.”

“You just want the place to yourself so you can scrog some guys.” Brandy kidded her roommate.

“I don’t scrog guys.”

“Well we don’t scrog either, so that means girls are out. What do you do?”

“I manage to find ways to keep myself busy.” Casey shot back.

“Hump. Well anyways…I just wanted to come round and say bye.” Brandy finished hopping down off the barstool.

“Are you gonna miss me?” Brandy asked Phae.

“Like the flower misses the sun,” he replied kissing her forehead.

“Hehehe.” she reacted to Phae’s attention.

“So ok I’m out.” With that Brandy grabbed up her duffel and book bags and flipped back through the threshold and out the portal.

* * * * *

‘Damn acting like a damn cheerleader can sure suck the life outta ya’. Brandy thought to herself hailing her second cab of the day. As she directed the hack to the airport she withdrew a small PDA from her bag and passed the time checking her itinerary for her upcoming training/briefing at Stormcenter.

* * * * *

“Is she always like that?” Phae asked Casey.”

“Just around you.”

“I guess I’ll need to turn it down around you people.”

“You people?”

Phae smiled, flipping Casey gently with his bar towel. The two friends then bent themselves to the task of prepping the Serendipity for the next round of lost souls sure to drop by in search of assistance.

Impossible Ghosts

Moe knew what he had to do. How could he let a city full of innocents be destroyed? He knew the tactics of Ergos all too well. He knew what they were capable of…..what he used to be capable of. The Irony of it all was almost amusing, had this been five years earlier he might have been the one with pistols drawn outside of Serendipity making the same ultimatum just issued to him. He was, after all bred for that very job, quite literally. He shuddered at the thought.

“What type of sick people breeds an ogre with drow elves? And how did they convince a Bugbear to carry the cursed child?”

He retched as he did whenever his thought of his twisted lineage. Had it not been for the mistake of giving him the emo-implant, he may have never had the opportunity to even question it. The implant given to him at the base of his skull was put there to allow him to be handled more easily, but had the surprising side effect of also giving him a sense of identity and morality. Neither of which Ergos agents were encouraged to have.

He walked through the shadows of the alleyways, trying to sort out his thoughts. He could not arm himself with any normal weapons. Surely Zhu-Rong would have sent up sensors to detect those. He needed something exotic. Something that Ergos had not thought up yet and therefore would not be looking for.

“Well that will be easy to find!” he thought sarcastically.

As he continued his pondering he came across a dejected looking building with an ‘out of business’ sign in the window. The window sign was not as intriguing as the sign above the door. Blastem’s Guns, Ammo, and Pawn Shop.

“There may still be some leftovers in there to make a little surprise for Zhu-Rong” He thought.

He dashed across the street to the rear entrance of Blastem’s and checked the lock. It had been forced open and apparently some time ago.

“Probably just some homeless vagrants looking for a place to stay warm” He hoped.

As he pushed the heavy metal door open it made a loud creak that made him wince. He surveyed the inside rather quickly. The place had been deserted for some time it appeared. Heavy dust covered most of the now bare shelves, and there was a musty smell like old socks that lingered about. He stepped inside, deciding not to raise more attention by closing the heavy metal door, and began looking through the drawers and cabinets for anything that may be useful. He was knelt down behind one of the counters when he heard a soft hum and felt cold steel between his shoulder blades.

“Oh well, why not? I’d rather go down like this than by that pawn of Ergos”

He spun around quickly ready to face his demise at the hands of this stranger. At least he would die in an honest battle like a true warrior. What he saw before him stopped him in his tracks. His breathing became shallow and he thought he might faint. His fist dropped to his side and his adversary could have struck him down where he stood. But the figure in front of him did not move. She just stood there with her vibroblade resting comfortably in the crook of her arm, smiling broadly at him. Moe stood there speechless except for one word.

“Ellifaine?!”

Along Came a Spider(Alex, Glottack)

Alex awoke with a dull throbbing sensation coming from the back of her head. Reaching a hand around to rub the sore spot she discovered a rather large knot. She was sitting on the ground inside of a damp cave whose entrance was sealed off by a large spider web. Getting to her feet, she put out a hand against the wall as a wave of nausea over took her. After a few more seconds, she carefully inched her way to the spider web and peered out between its openings.

There was a faint glow of torch light near the end of a long tunnel. Other than that, there was nothing she could see but blackness. She began pulling at the webbing, hoping to get out of here before somebody or something realized she was conscience. However, the web proved to be stronger than what it appeared. While looking about for something to cut the webbing with, Alex heard a strange clicking sound. Looking down the length of the tunnel, her eyes rested upon a large spider moving toward her.

Alex shrank back against the cave wall, trying to get some distance between her and the arachnid. The huge black form took up the entire cave entrance. With one swoop it removed the webbing. Alex stared in disbelief at the ghastly creature before her. It had a large black abdomen with eight spindly legs protruding out of it. On each leg was a series of spikes that could rip a person to shreds. But it was the head that caused Alex alarm. Attached to the enormous abdomen was a woman’s head. It was beautiful and hideous all at the same time. She had short black hair, beady black eyes and blood red lips. When she smiled long white fangs dripping in poison were revealed.

“Welcome, we’ve been waiting for you.” Her voice was surprisingly soothing, almost hypnotic. Alex shook her head, clearing away the fog that threatened to overtake her mind.

Alex backed into the furthest corner of the cave but to her surprise the rock wriggled beneath her fingers. Jumping away from the wall, she caught a glimpse of movement on the floor, then to her right. Her eyes finally focusing on the thousands of small black spiders moving about the cave. A scream escaped her lips before she could even stop it. Instict took over and she began stomping the creatures with her booted feet.

“No!” the spider/woman let out a blood curdling scream. “My children, my precious children!” Looking into Alex’s eyes she hissed “You will pay for this, human, but for now I must take you to the Beholder.”

Without a word of warning she shot out a massive web that ensnared Alex, pinning her arms to her side. Spinning her repeatedly in a thread of web, Alex found herself bound from ankle to neck in the sticky material. Hoisting the cocoon onto her back the spider worked her way through the maze of tunnels, going further into the mountain.



* * * *


Glottack and Serataom were deep in conversation as they walked to the Council meeting. They were discussing the stars when a girl’s scream was carried in on the wind.

“They’ve got her” Glottack hung his head in sorrow. A deep ache forming in the pit of his stomach.

Serataom looked pleadingly into Glottack’s eyes. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“I’ve done all that I can. It is up to the gods to help her now.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, both lost in thoughts of the young girl and the trials she must surely be facing. When they reached the council hut, Serataom wished Glottack well and returned to her home, tears in her eyes.

“Did you hear?” Tavalox’s excited voice greeted Glottack. “Justice will be served after all. The foolish girl went to the mountain on her own.” The Council erupted in laughter. Glottack felt the heat of anger creeping up his neck. He willed himself to calm down for fear of risking a harsher punishment.

“Let us begin,” started Tavalox and the room quickly became quiet. “Glottack is here because he willingly disregarded a Council order – he let the human go free. However, because the sentence was carried out all the same, I move that Glottack be set free with a warning.”

“Here, here” came the loud reply. With that the Council was dismissed. Glottack heard snatches of conversation regarding the girl and her certain demise. He felt sure that he would be sick if he did not get out of the building.

Escaping into the clear night, Glottack breathed in the cool air. Looking up at the stars he smiled and a peace came over him, for he knew that she would be just fine, a little battered perhaps, but alive all the same.

Who Watches Them? (Edward, Jacob)

A gentle knock on the door roused Sir Edward from his studies.

“Come” he offered around his pipe.

Jacob entered the room, shutting the door back behind him. With a practiced, determined stride he closed the distance of the cavernous study and sat in a chair opposite his cohort Sir Edward Hilla Ray.

“So Jacob, what say you?” Edward asked folding his book closed and laying it on a nearby table aside his now recently used pipe.

“I’ve just returned from my reporting on Quint.” He replied reclining a bit into the Elizabethan chair he now occupied.

“How is Quint doing in the ‘city’ no nastiness I hope” Edward smiled fully aware of Quints habits and chosen occupation.

“He seems to have been running around quite a lot. He has a room at the Serendipity…”

“Phae’s place, hmmm.”

“…yes well. He has not been there more then he has been, since he blew into town three weeks ago. Has been contacted twice, accepting one and declining one. A backup took out the rejected target despite Quints refusal.”

“Well it’s good to hear that the man does have a smattering of morals.”

“I’m concerned about his company. He seems to have taken an interest in Casey and has been keeping company with that sailor Eduardo.”

“Is he aware of his gift?”

“No”

“Does he know about Casey or Eduardo?”

“I believe he knows that Casey is a divine being, but isn’t accepting it fully. Angels, after all, are beings of literature not reality. He has known Eduardo for too long to see him for what he truly is.”

“You know as well as I do that the role of a Watcher…”

“…is to observe and not interfere. I have lived by that and will continue.”

“Of all the many types of beings in and around our planet, humans have the greatest ability to set aside all others for the greater good. We have been assigned the task of watching and recording the lives of Immortals because we can mix with them unnoticed but also, I believe, because we have the greatest capacity to observe and not get involved.”

“I know, I was your pupil remember.”

“Do you want another assignment?”

“No Watcher has followed Quint for longer then I have, no one knows him better” Jacob replied defensively.

“I can not argue that, but it has been documented that extended periods of time on one assignment can cause emotional attachment that prevents the Watcher from remaining detached, objective.”

“I have not succumbed to ‘alignment’” Jacob exclaimed jumping to his feet.

“Then bring me facts and not your feelings.” Edward responded placing the pipe between his lips and raising the book back to eye level.

Hesitating momentarily Jacob Sladder exited the room, slightly bent as compared to when he entered.

Rally the Troops (Bishop)

As casually as a normal person would flip through the channels of their television with a remote, Bishop mentally flipped through the channels psionically hard wired into his consciousness. Some came to the forefront while others were pushed to the back becoming part of the constant background ‘noise’ of information he received. All were either watched directly or mentally recorded for later playback. The virtual landscape of his mind constantly in motion as some new font of information took priority over pre-existing input.

A series of screens suddenly flared to life not from his external monitors but from a series of channels that were transmitted directly into his mind and to nowhere else on the planet. Bishop immediately tuned out all other channels bringing these five not just to the front, but also to his undivided attention. These five channels belonged to the five members of the ‘Council’, those individuals whose dictates he followed unerringly and without question.

“Bishop what do you have?” the first asked from the Vatican City.

“The ‘city’ is showing a marked increase in residual aura, your Excellency.”

“Related to the recent undead episode?” followed up the Jerusalem representative of the Council.

“No sir Rabbi. That aura had fallen to normal background levels, though we did mark a flare from the female.”

“Is it due to that jezebel Shaera’s visit?” asked the Egyptian representative.

“Shaera journeyed her typical journey and left our plane, Khalif.”

“Then what is the nature of the flare?” was asked from Constantinople.

“The energies have been building for the past several weeks and are now sustained at levels several powers greater then usual, Sultan.”

Waiting briefly for input from the fifth and final member of the ‘Council’, Bishop continued his brief.

“The female has been at a heightened state since the Undead episode and we have also measured the emissions from the ‘renegade’. He has visited the ‘city’ but has not stayed nor exerted any aura more then to exit our plane or enter it.”

“When was he last here?” asked the brooding representative from Antioch.

“Just yesterday, mein Gilt. He met with an outplaner and vanished soon after. He has also been in contact with the female.”

“Is the female still being watched?” asked the Papacy.

“Yes, Your Eminence. The Magdalena has been assigned and has been filing regular reports.”

“And?”

“The female has shown none of the trappings of the Infernal and does not consort with any of the known Heathens.”

“Yet she remains marked as a ‘whore’ of both by her houghmagandy with the ‘Sceptre bearer’.” Remarked the Antioch druid.

“They have not ‘been’ together, that we are aware sir.” Bishop replied slightly confused by the use of the centuries old word.

“Perhaps not in the flesh but her aura has been tainted by his non the less.”

“We have also noted the appearance of several of the lesser divine and an increase in the numbers of immortals in the area. The Watchers indicate that the ‘warrior’ is among them.

“Let us confer.” The Pope chimed, at which point Bishop pushed the five into the background and caught up on what had transpired in the world during their minute and a half conversation.

Bishop took particular interest in the stranded ‘cowgirl’. Her ‘story’ was not his to follow but she interested him for the fifteen seconds it took for him to catch up on her wanderings. Something about the eternal ‘warrior’also piqued his interest. Rewinding he saw that several of the more interesting lines being fed to him intersected with that of the female and ‘sceptre bearer’, he marked all of the files for further study.

“Bishop” thought the Pope. Again with but a mental flip the five of the ‘Council’ were foremost in his mind and all others reduced to background noise.

“It has been decided to put the Magdalena on highest alert and to search out and make ready the ‘Hunter’.”

“Sir most of that one was replaced with cybernetics after his last mission for us.” Bishop said tuning one of his mental screens into the playboy persona of the ‘Hunter’.

“He is the only mortal of this generation to have bested one of the Infernal host single handed. We paid him generously with the gifts of his new body, he will be receptive”

“It will be done” Bishop acquiesced with a mental nod.

Silently the five screens went dark and Bishop went about the task of making contact with both the Magdalena and the Hunter. Quietly and with minimal effort Bishop also started to sift through the aura reports and those forwarded by the Watchers concerning immortal activity in and around the ‘city’. He was determined that his watch would not suffer through another Tunguska affair.

Knights of Malta

he island had been known to history for thousands of years and is home to the oldest megaliths currently known on our planet. Great sea faring civilizations had risen and fallen within its site as well as upon its shores. Phoenicians and Carthaginians were the ancestral breed of the current residents, with a smattering of Italian and other Mediterranean stock thrown in for flavor. Just shy of 400, 000 people were packed onto the 300 plus square kilometers called Malta. Our attention will not be focused so much on those inhabitants of the surface of the island, instead let us consider those inhabitants of a series of tunnels and capsules hidden beneath present day Malta.

In the eleventh century A.D. an event occurred in the Church, most of us ‘heathens’ have only learned about during the history classes of our formative years. In 1054 the Church was split into an eastern branch (Constantinople, Antioch, Alexandria, and Jerusalem) and a western branch (Rome), called the ‘Great Schism’. Simultaneously an organization, of a more military bent was chartered to guard the Church proper. Two major ideals were tasked to this fledging organization. The first was to locate, pursue and protect those objects of ‘divine significance’ to the Church and the second was to monitor and record any instances of ‘beings of divine power’ that had been known on occasion to visit our realm. This group of men and women from eleventh century Europe were chartered as the Knights of Malta. History contains vague rumblings of this most secret of orders and to this day the vast majority of the world has no direct knowledge that the order exists. Historians more often then not debate the existence of the Knighthood based on the fact that the island was a Muslim stronghold during the time of the ‘Great Schism’ and was not of significant Christian character until controlled by the ‘Knights of the Order of St. John’ from the late sixteen through late eighteenth century, well beyond the rumored time of the original charter. However the order was in full bloom by this time and has been the most funded and most requested post of the Church.

Sequestered far beneath the island, beneath even the Mediterranean itself is housed the Operations Center for the Knights of Malta. Much like a metropolitan subway center with a central hub and radiating branches the physical aspects of the Stormcenter follow a similar pattern. Dozens of transmat tubes extend in all directions away from a central point and terminate exactly one mile from said center. Each is connected by a trasmat device to a similar tube one mile in length leading to the destination. The intervening distance, when used as transport, is covered by a science fully understood by only a handful of men and women. Destinations include the five ‘seats’ of the church, training grounds in Tunisia and the Far East, Washington, D.C., several European capitals and other locations known only to the Knights themselves.

The Stormcenter itself is a single observation room surrounded by ancillary rooms needed for support. Banks of video screens containing video feeds or textual information associated with those feeds occupying every square inch of wall space save that necessary for ingress and egress to the room. In the center of it all is Bishop, the name and title of the individual currently answerable for all that goes on relating to the Knights of Malta. Through means of advanced science and genetic gifts, Bishop is able to receive input from the banks of monitors and issue the appropriate orders to insure that the will of the five member ‘Council’ is obeyed.
At his beck and call are hundreds of thousands of operatives worldwide with a working capital well into the billions of dollars in training, equipment and liquid funds. Some are active others are not and still others are ‘asleep’ until such time as the Church feels their particular talents are needed to fight the ongoing war against the Adversary and his infernal minions.

A recent upswing in residual aura, that energy expended by a being of divine creation, has put the Stormcenter and by extension Bishop into a state of high alert. The higher then normal readings have been centered in and around the ‘city’. It is known that several fulltime residents of the ‘city’ are of interest to the Knights of Malta and the five members of the Council, but recently an increase in aura has been detected as well as the sighting of several immortals. The Watchers, being the organization responsible for maintaining vigilance over the immortal beings in the world and not normally of interest to Bishop’s organization, had informed The Knights of the increase in immortals in the ‘city’.

Several times throughout recorded history such increases simultaneously in the expenditure of aura by divine beings and higher then usual numbers of immortals in one place had been encountered, most recently in the early twentieth century in the Siberian wilderness. This most recent event was catastrophic in its consequences and evidence of the energy expended in the battle now warrants a careful eye be kept on those beings possessing enough power to repeat the occurrence.

Unacceptable Ultimatum

Moe nodded his thanks to the bartender and started though the rear entrance to Serendipity. The door was a little small but he pushed his large frame through to the alleyway. As soon as he stepped out he realized his error. He began to spin around when he heard the chuckle.

“Don’t move. This is going to end but not here. It is up to you how painful your death will be.”

Moe turned slowly to face the voice. The person standing before him was only half his height and had a very slender frame, but he knew right away that a fight or running away was out of the question.

“What do you want with me? I have made no more attempts to return. I have made my piece and life here.”

“I care not for your life.” The strange voice replied. “I simply want to finish my mission and get back home, away from all of your suns and bright lights”

“You can leave now, Ergos has no need to pursue me. I will not seek them out any more. All I want is to live out the remainder of my days in peace.”

“Then listen carefully or the ‘remainder of your days’ will be very painful.”

Moe saw the pistols in the hooded mans hands, and sighed.

“So be it then” He said

“Now here is the fun part. You will meet me at your old station house at midnight tonight. Make any final arrangements before then. You will come willingly to your own death or I will insure that all the innocents of this city will die and not a single stone is left standing on top of another. You will come or you will be responsible for more slaughter.”

With an evil grin and a wink of his red eye, the stranger spun on his heel and disappeared into the alleyway.

“I will be there! “ Moe shouted into the now empty night. “ But it will be for your end only” He said quietly under his breath.

“Time to go shopping” He smiled

Pursued

“You did what?!” stormed Tavalox. “You deliberately disobeyed the Council. Have you no respect for our rules, our way of life? You will be punished for this.” Tavalox was pacing back and forth arms flailing about as he spoke. He was so angry with Glottack that his face turned a deep shade of red. Glottack feared the elder centaur might collapse if he didn’t calm down.

“I saw the stars the night she arrived, she isn’t meant to die yet, she’s not even supposed to be here. The gods speared her life years ago; they have something planned for her. We have interfered with their plans for too long. Maybe they wanted us to be wiped out by the humans .”

“Nonsense,” broke in Salmurk, “the humans came here uninvited when their world fell apart. It is they who disrupted the gods’ plans.”

“How do you know? You do not read the stars, you are a Keeper. Ask Serataom, she knows…”

“I will not seek the advice of a female! You don’t know what the humans did to us, you were but a colt.”

“I know what the stars tell me, and she has a task before her that is yet unfinished.” Shot back Glottack.

“Enough!” demanded Tavalox stamping his hooves impatiently upon the floor boards. “What is done, is done. She will die all the same, for no creature can survive that deep into the forest without shelter. The dark creatures will still get their “toy” and all will be made right.” Glottack flinched at Tavalox’s calloused words. “Let us go home for now. The Council will decide what to do with you later.” This last part he spoke directly to Glottack. Tavalox left the room, muttering to himself as he went.

“You should have gone with her, " sneered Salmurk, “for you are dead to me now.”

“Brother, I . . .”

“I have no brother,” hissed Salmurk.

Glottack watched Salmurk walk away. He knew he had disappointed the centaurs but he felt sure that they would see the truth in what he said. Looking out into the forest he wondered how the girl was doing. Night would soon be upon them, he now wished that he had shown her how to use the pebble for he felt sure she was still in the forest. Shaking his mane in an attempt to erase his thoughts, Glottack started towards his hut.


* * * *

“Come on you stupid rock, show me the way out of here,” Alex shook the rock in a vain attempt to understand its picture. Glancing up at the sky, she knew that night would soon be here. ‘I’ve got to find a place for the night.’ Quickening her pace she continued on, racing the setting sun.

She stopped at a cluster of boulders to rest her weary feet. Relieving her back of the knapsack, she pulled out the pebble again. That’s when she heard it, a strange rustling sound in the trees to her left. Quickly jumping to her guard she reached for her pistols only to be reminded that they were gone. Picking up a stick lying at her feet she stood listening for the sound to come again. And it did… but this time it came from her right as well as from her left. Alex felt a sudden need to run. Not being one to ignore her guts, she grabbed up the rucksack and high-tailed it out of there.

After a short sprint she stopped to catch her breath and listen. The sound was still there but the number seemed to be increasing. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of something moving to the left of her, and then another one ran past. Looking to the right, she spotted more creatures running about. She knew she was being set up for an ambush but she had to believe that they hadn’t surrounded her just yet. Once again she took off in a dead run.

The sound of crunching leaves and thumping feet was coming from all sides. Breaking through the dense underbrush she stopped short. There in front of her loomed a tall black rock wall. Looking up she saw that she was standing at the base of a mountain.

Suddenly she heard a familiar shrill scream and the sounds of hundreds of feet stamping on the ground. Slowly she turned around to face her pursuers. She opened her mouth to scream but before a sound could escape her lips she felt a hard blow to the back of her head, then all was black.

A Moment For Travis (Casey, Travis)

Casey followed the young mans approach across the floor. Not staring at him, that would have scared him, she felt his movement as she went about her business. When she did glance up he seemed to be concentrating quite a bit. Casey smiled to herself imagining he was rehearsing his lines, like an actor on opening night he wanted to hit them the first time out.

Casey looked up just as he stopped in front of her. Standing up and turning toward him she gave the young man her full attention. He just stood and stared for a moment....or two...perhaps three and then said 'You sure are a stunned lady' he said almost blurting it out.

Casey immediately could tell that was not at all what he had been practiceing. Gracefully, no sooner had his chin hit his chest, Casey placed her hand beneath his chin, gently lift until his brown eyes were staring into her orange-yellow orbs.

"Thank, no one has ever told me I was stunning." slowly, as not to spook him, Casey stepped forward and standing on her toes gave him the slightest peck on the forhead.
She stepped back and released his chin, her smile a thing of beauty.

The Parting(Alex, Glottack)

She rose just before dawn, anxious to get going. Glottack was already awake packing the rucksack with more food. “Good morning” came his warm greeting as he lifted his head to look at her. ‘She’s so beautiful. I can’t believe she’s a killer but hatred has a way of possessing a soul.’ Looking back down at the table, he continued his work

She slid onto the bench and returned the greeting. The beaver placed a plate of bread and fruit in front of her. She noticed the absence of meat once again. “Thank you,” she whispered as she picked up the bread and began eating.

“I wish we could have met under different circumstances,” began the centaur as he closed the rucksack. “I would have enjoyed getting to know you.”

Alex smiled not quite sure of her own feelings towards the forest and its creatures still yet but thinking she too would have enjoyed getting better acquainted with the horse-man.

“This should see you through for several days,” he said while patting the bulging rucksack, “I would have liked to have given you more, but I didn’t want to weigh you down too much.”

“Thank you,” came her simple reply.

“Use the stone that Serataom gave you to guide you on your journey.”

Again she was surprised to have one of her secrets revealed. At least now she knew what the stone was for, it was a map of some sort.

“I can do or say nothing more. The Council will already be displeased with me for my actions. I have seen the stars and there is much for you to do. You’re road will not be an easy one to travel, but you will succeed. In the end, the burdens you carry will finally be lifted and you will find peace.”

Alex didn’t know what to say. She had never believed in prophecy but she had encountered a lot of people who did. Something about the centaur made her want to believe what he said was true. Finishing her breakfast, she placed the rucksack onto her back, thinking of her horse once again.

“Is there any chance of getting my pistols back” she inquired touching her empty holsters.

“I’m afraid they are part of the universe now, mere particles floating about, so small that they are undetectable by the naked eye.”

Alex let out a sigh of disappointment and headed to the door. Upon opening it she was greeted by a warm breeze carrying the smell of earth and trees. The forest looked so peaceful and inviting. As if knowing her thoughts, Glottack spoke up, “don’t let the forest deceive you. It’s full of hidden dangers. Get to the humans as quickly as you can. If you should be in here during the night, find an enclosed shelter. Do not let the dark creatures catch you about at dark or you will surely meet your end. I’m afraid I cannot tell you which direction to travel in, by doing so would end my life.”

Alex smiled warmly at the kind centaur. “Thank you” and before he could stop her she embraced him in a hug and then disappeared into the dense forest.

“May the gods protect you” he said under his breath. He could still feel her warm body wrapped around his. ‘This human is like no other on this planet.’ With that thought he returned to the shack deciding to stay on another day before going back to the village.


* * * *


Alex moved so quickly through the underbrush that she lost sight of the shack in no time. Finding a boulder, she sat down for a moment to gather her thoughts. She had hugged the centaur out of sincere gratitude but had been caught off guard by the warmth of that touch. She had found it very difficult to let go, not wanting to leave the strength that he possessed. She had seen it in his eyes, the reluctance to take her to the caves. She had played upon his doubts but in doing so had found a true friend. Briefly she wondered if she would ever see him again.

Pulling out the pebble she turned it around in the palm of her hand, feeling it’s coolness on her skin. Again the blue and green colors swirled about until a picture was revealed with a little blinking red dot. It looked to be a different part of the forest but other than that she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. ‘Why didn’t I get him to show me how to use this thing?’ she chided herself. Taking a deep cleansing breath she got up and began making her way through the forest, not having an inkling of where she was going.