Heart of a Warrior

[StormQueen]

Chapter One: A Rutted Path    Morning light slanted across ripening fields of grain and touched the windows of a remote farmhouse, bringing its human inhabitants to wakefulness. The morning meal was prepared and eaten quickly, for chores began early and ended late in such a hardscrabble landscape as the Thundering Steppes. In a little while the front door opened and a slim, slight young man stepped outside on his way to the barn. An older larger man appeared in the doorway and gestured to him. "Jimbob, let your brother do the milking himself. I need you with me to cut more firewood and get the wagons ready for tomorrow's trip." Cold weather so soon... Jimbob ran his hands over his face and the scruffy beginnings of a beard.  He hated cold and the stress it put on everyone and the livestock. Way too easy to lose some to the weather and have to deplete their already stretched resources. Borrowing was a last resort, but it might come to that. He hated the idea of being in debt to the bank.. but most of all he hated farming itself. But what else was there for him here? Everyone scratched out a living, even those living in Thundermist Village. At least tomorrow they would travel there to barter, buy and sell what they could for the coming months.   Jimbob looked forward to the infrequent trips to the village. Although most of its inhabitants were human, there were some Barbarians and Dwarves, and the caravans which passed through often contained exotic strangers and their fascinating tales. Last year he had even seen one of the mysterious Erudites. The woman had a strange pet, a fearsome creature called a Nightblood. He asked a local man where she had gotten it, and the villager laughed. "That is a conjuror, my boy, and she magicks those out of arcane energy. It is only a spell."  Jimbob took a couple of steps closer, and the conjuror's pet turned and growled at him. He backed up in a hurry, to the amusement of several spectators. The Erudite looked down her nose at him and spoke. "My spells cause such to take shape and animate from the arcane forces that lie within each of us. Its shape is not as important as its competency in battle, which reflects my competency and ability as a mage. If the summoned believes you are threatening me, it will protect me. Do stay back from it, and from me."  The conjuror haughtily strode away, pet following closely. Jimbob was fascinated; he hadn't even known such things existed.  Now, as he sweated and chopped wood, he thought long and hard about the world out there beyond the wide yet limited horizons of the Steppes.  There was so much more, he was sure, than eking out a living in these desolate plains.    The next morning everyone got started very early. All the necessary chores were done, the 2 wagons were loaded, and the teams hitched. His father took the reins of one team and climbed aboard with his brother and sister. Jimbob and his mother got in the other wagon, and he got ready to start the team. The trip would take half the morning, so they started out immediately, with his brother and mother both watching the horizon for bandits or other trouble. It had been a few years since they had seen the burned out wagon near the village, but you never knew.  Caution was essential. Rogue centaurs were not unknown, and hungry wolves and bears had been known to attack young livestock being driven to market.  The rolling landscape seemed not to change as they traveled a steady plodding pace, speaking little.     At last the village came into view at a curve in the rutted road. Jimbob handed the reins to his mother, then hopped down out of the wagon and jogged ahead into the village to make sure there were no obstacles in their path. Playing children, broken-down wagons, livestock, all were common roadblocks.  But this time the path was clear, and they stopped the wagons right by the auction building.  Jimbob's father and brother walked over to meet the approaching merchants, and his mother took his sister in hand as she headed for the small general store.  The buying, selling and bartering held little interest for Jimbob, so he wandered through the village toward the guard post. The guards always had interesting stories to tell a farm boy, and although Jimbob wasn't sure they were any more than tall tales, they were entertaining nonetheless.  Stories of mages and fighters and healers and scouts, elves and kerra and erudites and barbarians; it all held his rapt attention.    One guard had taken a liking to him over the last few visits to the village; he was a human named Trethor. Now his eyes lit up at Jimbob's approach. "Hey there young man! Tell that mother of yours to feed you more; you're still so scrawny! And look at that...he needs a shave, he does. Doesn't he, Marlan? The dwarf guard grinned and nodded. "Can't have him competing with me!"  Jimbob didn't mind the teasing; in fact, it made him feel he belonged, in a way. "Say Jimbob, would you go fetch us a couple skins of ale? Guarding is thirsty work." Trethor tossed him a coin. "Here, keep the change too." Jimbob ran to get their ale. He would have a bit of spending money too! But he forgot about that, and everything else, when he came out of the tavern with their drinks. He ran toward the sound of battle and rounded the bend in the path to find the guards frantically battling a rogue Centaur. "Death to all two-legs!" the creature bellowed. The drinks fell to the ground, forgotten, as Jimbob watched in horrified fascination. There was nothing he could do to help, and he could only cry out in despair when the Centaur's lashing hoof caught Trethor in the throat and threw him back to spill limply like a discarded ragdoll. Marlan fought like a cornered bear but was starting to lose ground. If he went down the village was open to the Centaur's depredations....

[Ekuthh]

Good start! :smileytongue:

[StormQueen]

<DIV>   Chapter Two: Turned Path<BR><BR>    A bloodcurdling battlecry caused Jimbob to spin around, searching for the new threat.  But instead he saw a chainmail-clad Barbarian man had bolted out of the general store and was running full-tilt towards the battle, waving a huge spear. As he closed with the centaur and the beleaguered Dwarf, he skidded to a stop and instead of using his spear he waved his hands and chanted weird words. A shimmering aura appeared around the guard, and the Centaur's blows seemed to lose effect. Another cast, and the Dwarf's wounds visibly healed. A third spell brought the Centaur up short, violently ill and dazed. Only then did the big man bring his spear to bear. As the guard slashed and cut, the Barbarian stabbed the spear into the Centaur's chest. The creature shuddered and collapsed in a bloody heap. The remaining guard turned and only then saw his friend lying there behind him, head at an unnatural angle.  "Trethor! No!" he shouted as Jimbob came hurrying up. "What will I tell his mother?" Marlan lamented. Jimbob was devastated. He'd seen dead animals, but never a dead man. The wrongness of it tore at him. "Stand aside," said the Barbarian, giving him a rough shove. The chainmail-clad man threw his arms out to the sides and began chanting some strange language.  A glow surrounded the body and it levitated and turned over in midair, feet dropping to the ground.  The surrounding people gasped in amazement as the formerly dead guard looked around wildly and ran to the Barbarian. Trethor dropped to his knees as Marlan came running up and did the same. "I can't thank you enough for what you just did. How will I ever repay you?" the human asked. "Whatever you ask of me, I will do."  Jimbob had so many questions but he knew better than to intrude right then. <BR><BR>    After the hubbub had eased, Jimbob again came closer and soon found the Barbarian sitting at a table outside the tavern.  The young human could contain himself no longer.  "What ARE you?" he blurted out. The big man looked at him irritably then relaxed a bit. "I am a Mystic, a Shaman." "What is a Shaman?" "We are healers who tap the magical energies of the spirit world  to help our friends and subdue our enemies." "But how did you... I mean, he was dead, wasn't he?" The Barbarian nodded. "Indeed he was, young man." "But how.." the Mystic held up a hand to interrupt him. "It takes training to understand the spirit world, and skill to retrieve a migrating soul before it passes through into eternity." "Passes through? I don't understand." " There is a sort of point of no return between this world and the next. It's not a place but the division between the two realms. A soul crosses that, and it can never come back to this world." He looked grim at his own statement. "Being a Shaman is the most difficult of all the priestly vocations. You live on the edge of two worlds and yet are very aware of the here and now, and yours and others' mortality. But enough, human, you are obviously a farm boy and will be back working there soon. No real reason for me to tell you all this." With that, the Mystic stood to walk away. "But," Jimbob said. "I don't know your name." "I am Tabaar Hammersmite, friend to the righteous, protector of the weak." Jimbob announced, "Well, I am going to be a great Mystic," as the Barbarian started to walk away, shaking his head, "or my name isn't Jimbob Stormwalker!"<BR><BR>    Tabaar's jaw dropped and he took a very close look at this young human. The intense look... the same... he stepped closer and put his hands on Jimbob's shoulders. "Are you certain you desire to tread this path above all others? For it may bring absence and privation, danger and toil."  Jimbob nodded, not taking his eyes off the Mystic for a second. "I will test you, then." The Barbarian reached in his travel pack and took out a small knife. Then he did a shocking thing in Jimbob's experience. He drew the knife along his arm, cutting it wide open from elbow to wrist. Tabaar flinched as blood flowed down his arm and splashed in the dirt. "All right, Jimbob, do something to help me." A few villagers noticed and a small crowd started to gather, but Tabaar waved them off with his good hand. He swayed slightly as the blood loss began to sap his strength. Jimbob looked around wildly for something to stanch the flow. "No, young man, you have to call upon powers beyond yourself." Tabaar sat with a thud on the dirt. He was looking very pale now, and Jimbob was desperate. Someone help me, he thought. <SPAN><EM>Jimbob</EM>, </SPAN>a voice whispered in his mind, <SPAN><EM>hold out your hands and take this healing to him as I did long ago</EM>. </SPAN>Grandfather! Jimbob knew now what to do... he held out his hands and crackling magic power flowed from him to the injured Barbarian. "By my grandfather's spirit, heal and be well," he heard himself say. Tabaar took a deep breath as his arm visibly knit together, leaving only an angry red scar. Jimbob lowered his hands and sat down as dizziness swept over him. He had done it! How, he didn't know, but his departed grandfather had somehow given him the tools he needed to use magic.<BR><BR>    He looked up to see his father push his way through the crowd.  Jimbob expected any response but the one he gave: "Come on, Jimbob, we need to start on the way home." Had he seen nothing? "But...didn't you see?" Jimbob's father shook his head. "You don't understand, son; that caravan is full of entertainers. They dress up as healers and such, but what they are really good at is manipulating people. They set up a crisis and seemingly solve it by illusions and mind control. You think you healed that fraud of a Barbarian?" he shook a finger at Tabaar, who looked down at the dirt. "It's all very entertaining but it's all smoke and mirrors." "But...but.. that guard... and the Centaur...Trethor was dead! I saw him! And the Shaman brought him back to life!" "It's how they make their living, Jimbob. People in these towns pay them in food and drink and shelter for the show. You were easily duped. They set it all up so you would be a willing accomplice. Sorry, son, it's all in your mind." Come on now, leave this fantasy stuff to the professional charlatans and mesmerizers there."<BR><BR>    Jimbob was very confused and discouraged. Tabaar had offered no rebuttal, no denial. Was it all fakery then? He wasn't used to being lied to. With a final pained look at the Barbarian, he trudged off toward the family's wagons.  He stumbled along in a daze until he got back to the camp and then slumped against a wheel in despair. How could he be so easy to fool? They must be just laughing their heads off in town, he bitterly reflected. Ignorant farm boy provides entertainment and does it for free....Jimbob responded to no one, not even his family, as he sat and stared at the unending horizon for a long time. His father went back into the village to finish some errand or other as his mother and siblings finished their afternoon meal. Jimbob wasn't hungry. "Go find your father," his mother requested. He had no intention of going back into the village, but knew better than to provoke a crisis by disobeying his mother. Maybe he could find out from the guards what had really happened. Or not. Hadn't they been a part of it all? His thoughts were jumbled with anger, despair, confusion and disenchantment as he made his way  back past the large barn.<BR><BR>    The sound of two men arguing reached his ears; it came from inside the barn itself. He frowned and walked closer. Yes, one of the voices was his father. Jimbob started to enter the shadowy interior when something in his father's tone of voice made him hesitate out of sight. "I can't let him go, Tabaar, and you know why!" Jimbob froze in place, straining to hear. "You can't let the past rule his future. What happened then was my fault alone," came Tabaar's reply. "I'm taking him back to the farm. My children deserve quiet lives, and long ones I might add." "You saw his gift for healing! When he told me his name I almost fell over and I had to see if  he showed the ability. Qeynos needs more like him!" "I had to talk fast to convince him that you were just a performing troupe of bards and mind mesmerizers. He goes home with us. That's final. Don't go bothering us again, Tabaar. Ever." "As you wish. I will never be able to repay my debt. You have my word, though. I won't interfere." "This conversation didn't happen, Tabaar. Be on your way."</DIV>

[omanik]

Excellant! More please.<div></div>

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter Three: Remembrance<BR><BR>     Jimbob was in shock. His father was LYING? What was reality? He bolted blindly into the interior of the barn and ran into Tabaar, who staggered back. Jimbob looked wildly at his startled father and screamed, "You LIED to me! WHY?" He was literally shaking with rage, and his father actually had the grace to look away.  "I was protecting you from harm and trying to keep you from suffering the same fate my brother did!" Jimbob's father pointed to the Mystic. "And he knows why! Get out here, Tabaar. I never want to see you again. Come on, Jimbob, we're going home," ordered his father sternly. But for once, Jimbob stood and defied his father, something he never did. "I'm not a boy anymore, and since this now involves me, I have a right to hear Tabaar out." His father looked taken aback, then he realized his son had somewhere along the way become a man. "All right. Let Tabaar tell you what happened. His honesty is the one thing I hate the most about him..." his father strode away, not looking back.<BR><BR>    A few minutes later, over dripping mugs of ale, Tabaar broached the subject.  "As you may have figured, your father and I are acquainted. His brother showed great promise as a holy knight, the kind called a Paladin. He had in turn inherited the gift from his father..." Grandfather, Jimbob realized. "...who was a Templar of renown." Jimbob saw another piece of the puzzle fall into place. "Your father was younger than you are now, but eager to follow in his brother's footsteps." The big man took a deep drink of ale, sighed, and continued his tale.  "Your uncle was a strapping big man for a human, and he showed all the fighter's instincts along with a healer's empathy and self-sacrifice. Everyone agreed that he would be a great Paladin, and I was lucky enough to be entering training at the same time. We became good friends on Queen's Colony Island, and learned our skills there.  He had some friends who we worked with on a regular basis after we got back to Qeynos and started assignments. We had been working together about a year when one day he told me that his little brother had sent him a mail that he had been accepted into training too! Jimbob, wait here a second." The Barbarian walked outside.<BR><BR>    Tabaar returned in a few minutes with a small mailing scroll in his hand. "Read this before I go on."  Jimbob unrolled the yellowed parchment.  <EM>"Hey Big Bro! I got accepted! I'm gonna be a Pally just like you!   Better watch out 'cause I'm gonna be the best there is! Next time you see me I will be a Knight. Love, The Squirt".</EM>  "That scroll arrived in the mail a couple days before we left for our assignment in Stormhold. We were sent to search out and destroy an undead uprising.  It was an old keep that had belonged to the Knights in olden times but now was a horror. It was full of traps, enemies, and pitfalls. Anyway, we were a group consisting of your uncle, me, a wizard, a berserker, and a ranger.  We annihilated the undead we found in the upper chambers, and even killed those weird blobs that crawl around in there. We had found a dead end room at the end of a passageway, and were fighting blobs in there.  We forgot to look for other dangers though, and that was when your uncle tripped over some broken masonry. How could we have known a well was in there? I almost caught his arm. So close... one step too far. He fell into the well and cried out as he landed in the pool of water at the bottom. The berserker held up a torch to see as your uncle yelled back that he was fine, and to throw him a rope. The ranger reached for his pack but never got the rope out as your uncle cried out again, one word, 'Goblins'. We heard their laughter as they attacked him." The Barbarian gritted his teeth at the memory. I tried from where I was to keep him healed, while the others shot arrows and spells, but they were too many and too strong. Your uncle...he fell in battle."<BR><BR>    The Barbarian buried his face in his hands and tried to compose himself. Finally he looked up, eyes and cheeks glinting in the flickering candlelight. "The goblins tore the body to pieces to eat it...he was gone forever.  How I hated those goblins. But I hated myself more. I had failed my best friend." Tabaar took a shuddering breath and went on. "I took it upon myself to carry the bad news to your grandfather. His shock and grief were great, but he understood the dangers of the profession and he didn't condemn me. But he did direct me to tell his younger son, your father. It was the hardest thing I ever did. Your father idolized his brother, and I had gotten him killed. That was his perception, and mine also. He screamed in grief and rage, swearing he would kill me if I didn't leave immediately and never come near him again.  The island guards escorted me back to the ship, and I left not knowing what I would do. For a while I considered taking my own life. But in the end I went back to Qeynos and my work, settled down, got married, and had a son.  But until today I had not known what became of your father. It turns out he quit the Paladin training that day and fled to the Steppes, vowing to never return to Qeynos.  He settled on an abandoned farm, married a farm girl, and tried to forget. But seeing me here today opened that old wound anew."<BR><BR>    Jimbob was very moved, and now he understood more why his father reacted the way he did. "I didn't know any of this." "No, I didn't think you did. Your father wanted to bury the memory. He still despises me, and his lying to you was an act of desperation to keep you from the same hurt, in his opinion.  Now, I  have to leave before your father comes looking for you again.  Think on what I told you, and think about your own gift for healing." Tabaar got up and  laid his hand on Jimbob's shoulder. "You are of age to make your own decisions, but remember they all come with a price. Take care, Jimbob. Some day we shall meet again."  Jimbob watched the Mystic trudge out the door and down the road, head down.  The young human turned and stared with unseeing eyes into his ale. Nothing could ever be like it was before. Not himself, certainly. Could he go back to a life of farming and isolation, knowing what he knew now? He didn't think he could.  He had to make a momentous decision; and facing his father and family would be traumatic.  He sighed, stood up, and started back down the road to the family's wagons</DIV>

[dano]

very good <span>:smileyhappy:</span> good structure to the story, you have my attention and i like what is written, goood job and i hope to hear more.<div></div>

[KidMangaX]

<DIV>good story! I hope you write more soon.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>But by the way, is this story based off a movie or book or something? I could swear I either read a book or watched a movie with this exact same plot once....if you have any idea what Im talking about, please tell me! :smileyvery-happy:</DIV>

[StormQueen]

Nope! Actually this will be taking a tangent from what you expect. 

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter Four: Unknown Future<BR><BR>     The young human arrived as the last of the goods were being packed; if they left right away, there would be time to get home before twilight.  His father came over to meet him and motioned him past the auction building. "Did that stinking Mystic tell you what happened to my brother?" "Yes, and he still feels awful about it all these years later." "I don't care! It was MY brother... your uncle who you never met! that died because of Tabaar's ineptness and cowardice," came the bitter retort.  "I don't live a day when I don't think of what could have been." "Were you training to be a Paladin? I was. And I left that behind so no more of my family would die senseless deaths. At least you came to your senses. Let's go home."<BR><BR>      Jimbob knew he had to say something right away, but how to bring up the subject? "He told me Grandfather was a Templar. Is this true?" "Yes, and he was heartbroken when his oldest son died, and never worked as a healer again." "But I think Grandfather would have wanted me to be a healer too..." "NONSENSE! Next you'll be telling me he contacted you from the spirit world... no telling what manipulations Tabaar is using on you! You will NOT speak of such balderdash again, ever." "But I must. My path is before me, and it doesn't lead to the farm anymore." His father clenched his fists and turned red with rage. Jimbob was sure he was going to use them on him. But instead his father grated out, "So be it. But realize that when you leave, you won't belong anymore. Your brother will inherit the farm in your place, and you will lose all rights.  And you have to be the one to tell your mother that you are choosing to leave the family. I will await your decision." As his father stalked off, Jimbob's mind was in a turmoil.  Disowned? He scarcely knew what to think. What a high price for independence....but he saw that his father was a prisoner of the past, bitter and withdrawn, and Jimbob was unwilling to become the same. <BR><BR>    He found his mother in the second wagon, strapping down some blankets to pad breakable items.  "Yes, Jimbob?" "Mother, I'm sorry, but I can't go home with all of you. I have to strike out on my own and see the world."  "Are you sure?" she exclaimed. "Your father will never stand for it, your leaving that is. The farm is yours by inheritance and you will lose everything! What will we do without you?"  She was very agitated, and Jimbob tried to reassure her. "I'll write and keep you up-to-date on everything so you know I'm all right." "You don't understand! Not only will he disown you, but he will forbid any of us making contact with you. Any letter you send will be destroyed unopened. Once you leave, you are dead to us. Please, son, don't do this, please...."  For a long moment he considered giving in and going back to live out his life on the farm.  But then he caught a glimpse of his father and hardly recognized the stranger he had become. Or was it himself that was the stranger now? <BR><BR>    "No, Mother, I have to do this. If you don't know why, talk to Father." She turned to him, tears in her eyes, and pressed into his hand a small pouch. "Here, take this and hide it quickly." Jimbob did so. "I was saving that for the future...but now is the future for you." "What is it?" "Shhh.. not now..." His father strode over just then and demanded to know his decision. His brother and sister looked at him curiously.  "I....I am leaving," Jimbob managed to choke out. "I can't stay on the farm, I'm sorry..." "Go then," came the stoic reply. "Seek your own way. I will not wish misfortune on you, but you are now on your own, with no family. Begone." With that, his father climbed aboard the first wagon, and his mother the second one. His brother started to climb down and walk to Jimbob, but their father roared, "Get in, boy!" and he scurried to obey. His sister sat crying in the second wagon as they started off down the rutted road. Both his siblings waved, and his mother kept taking anguished looks back at Jimbob.<BR><BR>   His father never once looked back.</DIV>

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter Five: Desolation<BR><BR>    The last of Ro's rays illuminated the lonely figure wandering through Thundermist village. There was nowhere for him to go now; he has no marketable skills besides the remote possibility of becoming a healer. But how far away that dream seemed now in the light of his present situation...."Hey, kid!" Trethor? Jimbob was surprised out of his woeful reverie. "What's wrong? You look like you lost a friend," the guard remarked as he stepped through the tavern door.  Jimbob kicked a dirt clod. "You wouldn't understand." "Try me. Let's go talk." <BR><BR>    "Ale for two," Trethor told the serving maid. When the drinks arrived, Jimbob quickly downed his and requested another. "All right, first things first," he was told. "What are you still doing in town?" "My father disowned me." Trethor gaped at the young man. "Why on Norrath would he do such a thing? What did you say or do?" "I want to pursue a life other than farming. He took my inheritance, gave it to my brother, told me I didn't have a family anymore, and they left."  Trethor narrowed his eyes. "There's a lot more here you're not telling me." Jimbob hesitated. "I didn't become a guard by missing clues," Trethor continued. "Does this have something to do with Tabaar the Mystic? I owe him my life, and I think you were fascinated by him..."  "Yes! It has everything to do with what happened today, and now I don't know what I should do!" "Easy, now. I have an idea. There's a caravan bound for Qeynos leaving in the late morning. We'll go get your belongings, and buy you passage to the city."<BR><BR>    "Belongings?" Jimbob queried. "All I have is what I am wearing."  Trethor set his mug down rather abruptly, sloshing ale over the rim. "You mean to tell me that your father didn't even accord you the minimum courtesy shown to a traveler?" "Not a single crust of bread. And not a single look back from him, either," Jimbob added in a grim tone.  "Wait a minute. My mother handed me something before Father could see."  He fished around inside his tunic and drew out a small leather pouch. "What have you got there?" the guard asked as Jimbob loosened the laces and shook the pouch's contents onto the table. Out dropped two folded squares of parchment.  He picked up one and unfolded it to reveal a gleaming gold coin and his mother's distinctive writing.<BR><BR>    <SPAN><EM>"Son, this is for you, on this happy occasion of your twentieth birthday. Spend it as you see fit. </EM></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN><EM>   If you haven't already, read the letter your Grandfather left for you. Love, Mother."</EM><BR><BR>    </SPAN>Jimbob wondered how his mother had ever managed to save a whole gold piece.  He had never even held one in his hand before, and said so to Trethor. "Lotta money....and I'm telling you, you don't look twenty." "I'm not, I'm eighteen."  "So....what's with the other letter?"  Jimbob picked it up and turned it over.  There was a small wax seal bearing the insignia of a temple. "Looks to be the Seal of the Celestial Watch," the guard pointed out. Cracking the seal proved a bit tricky. The wax had hardened with age but was not yet brittle, and Jimbob didn't want to damage the parchment.  Finally he managed to work it open to see tight, crabbed handwriting.<BR><BR>    <SPAN><EM>"To my new grandson Jimbob:<BR>Your birth is an auspicious occasion for your family.  I have made the long trip back to the Temple in Qeynos to make offerings and pray for your long life, fortune, and fulfillment.  May you have the courage to break free from bondage, the integrity to be worthy of your good name, and the wisdom to make the tough choices that come your way.  You will receive this letter upon your majority, hopefully from me; if not, from your mother.  Take this ancient Halasian token and keep it safe until there is great need for it. I do not know what will require it but it has been impressed upon me that it will be important somehow. </EM></SPAN></DIV> <DIV><SPAN><EM> Long life and happiness to you...your Grandfather, Jaymiss Stormwalker."<BR></EM><BR>    </SPAN>"I don't even remember him much," Jimbob said. "He died when I was very small." Then he saw Trethor looking at him curiously. "What?" "Where is the token?" "Token.... I didn't see anything. Hmm..."  Jimbob upended the pouch again and shook it, then reached in and felt around. "Aha.. it was caught in a corner." He brought out a small gray square wafer. "What is this thing?" he wondered as he held it closer to the candlelight in order to see it better. "By the forgotten gods," the guard exclaimed. "A Halasian wolf bone coin! Those are really rare, kid. People pay lots and lots of money for those things!" "Um... why?"  "Because it's made of bone! Most coins are metal, and those can be found intact in the ground. But bone erodes, gets eaten, dissolves, you name it." "Look here." Jimbob held up the coin. There was a figure of a wolf on one face. He turned it over, and on the other side was the portrait of a Barbarian, with some writing faintly visible underneath.  "Do you read Barbarian?" "No, but in the morning we will ask around. Go get some sleep, Jimbob; you can use the guard shack second cot. I'll be by to wake you early."</DIV>

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter Six: Inroads<BR><BR>      Jimbob woke to a gentle tap on his shoulder. "All right, time to get moving," the guard informed him. He yawned and stretched and reached for his boots. "Can we go get something to eat? Let's grab a quick bite from the tavern. I'm starved." Trethor laughed. "Sure thing, kid. Kinda hungry myself, and we have a very long day ahead of us." They wandered out into the morning light, and Trethor licked a finger and held it up in the breeze. "Ah, good traveling weather. Wind's from the right direction."<BR><BR>  Once at the establishment,  Trethor looked around for the serving maid. She saw and hurried over. "What can I get for you?"  After she took their orders, the guard held up a hand. "One more thing," he said. "Do you know anyone in town that knows the Barbarian language and writing?" She thought for a moment and shook her head. "Sorry, no..."  She left and returned a short time later with food, and information as well. "I asked the owner. He says a Dwarf shoe cobbler just moved into that shop across the road, and she used to live in Graystone Yard." Trethor thanked her and turned to Jimbob, who seemed a bit confused. "Dwarf? Graystone? I don't understand. I mean, I know what a Dwarf is, but why would they understand Barbarians?"  "When the refugees moved to Qeynos after the Shattering, the Queen established smaller communities around the city. One is Graystone Yard, and that is where the Dwarves and Barbarians took refuge. Despite their size difference, they have an affinity for each other's people and culture."<BR><BR>    Jimbob knocked on the door of the cottage shop. "Come in, come in, I haven't all day," came the gruffly feminine reply.  Jimbob followed the guard inside to find a rather tough-looking, very short woman...with side whiskers? He took a step back in surprise.  Luckily the woman didn't seem to notice. "Minty Frostbeard at your service. Got a shoe order? Set the materials on the table with your order slip and they'll be ready tomorrow." "No, ma'am," answered Trethor, "Actually we're here for something else." "And what might that be? And who might you be?"  "I'm Trethor, village guard, and this is Jimbob. He's the one with the question."  The Dwarf woman peered up at the young human. "Come on, spit it out," she instructed. Jimbob nervously fished for the pouch and drew it forth. "Here, maybe you can read this for me."  He handed the wolf bone coin to the surprised Dwarf.  "Indeed I can, young man. Quite a nice find, too." She carried it to a small table where a candle burned.  "Give me a second."<BR><BR>     "All right, here's my makeitbig glass. Those Gnomes are so strange, but they sure make some useful stuff." She held the lens over the coin. "Well, the wolf on this side is a common motif on Halasian coinage, she opined, turning it over, "And on this side....Ah! See this?" Minty motioned Jimbob to take a closer look. "See this portrait of a Halasian man? He is wearing a Shaman's tunic. Underneath him is the rune for 'snow', and this set of runes means 'ten pelts'. The rest of the writing is too faint for me to make out."  She looked up. "What we have here is a 'chit coin', which is tradeable only for the goods mentioned. Not quite barter, and not yet money, this system worked well for the Halasians, and they used it for a very long time." "Any idea how old it is?" interjected the guard. "I can make a good guess. By the style of the portrait, both the hairstyle and the clothing, I will guess somewhere near...1000 years old."  Jimbob gasped in astonishment. "Whoa," he breathed.  "Any museum would gladly pay you platinum coinage for this link to a bygone age." She gave him an appraising look. "Where did you get this, anyway?" "My grandfather left it to me." "Are you willling to sell it?" "No, he told me to keep it for something important."  "Well, money is important," cackled the woman. "But it's yours to keep or sell. Keep it safe from prying eyes."<BR><BR>     "Caravan moving out!" came the call. Jimbob turned and looked around Thundermist village, trying to impress the sight of the place on his memory. It was, after all, the only town he had ever known, and familiar in the midst of his personal upheaval.  Trethor walked up to him and cleared his throat. Startled, Jimbob whirled around to see the guard holding out his hand. "Here's your change. I bought passage and two days' worth of food for us. Keep those coins tightly wrapped so they don't jingle." The guard took a closer look at the young man. "You feeling all right, Jimbob?"  "Mmm.. yes... just thinking..." Trethor didn't know what to tell him.  They had both lost something... but Trethor had gotten his life back. Would this farmer's son ever find his?<BR></DIV>

[BhogFars]

chapter 7 next? :smileyhappy:

[StormQueen]

<BR> <BLOCKQUOTE> <HR> BhogFarsee wrote:<BR>chapter 7 next? :smileyhappy:<BR> <HR> </BLOCKQUOTE><BR>More coming, yes. Promise! :smileyhappy:

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter Seven: New Horizons<BR><BR>     The walk was slow but steady, and the miles slowly fell away as the caravan wound its way through the hills.  Jimbob had plenty of time to contemplate events, and his future. He was still in a state of shock and had insulated himself from further harm by withdrawing.  He didn't see this, but Trethor did. "I'm gonna walk these boots right off in no time," Jimbob grumbled. "That's what the goods wagon is for, in part. They'll sell you a new pair, at a premium price of course." Trethor drew his sword partway from its scabbard. "Price-gouging prevention service," he grinned. "Oh, I forgot to mention, I am only going as far as Gnollslayer Keep for now. I'll be going to Qeynos in a few weeks. From there it's easy to use the Griffon transport system." "Griffons?" Jimbob was surprised. "I thought they were wild." "Apparently if you raise them from an egg they tame pretty well. But you'll see when we get to the Keep."<BR><BR>     As evening drew near, the wagons stopped along the roadside near the narrow defile that led into Antonica. It had been an uneventful day: "Just like I like it," Trethor remarked. "Boring but safe. We will be posting a guard tonight, although this close to the guard tower and checkpoint we'll probably be all right. Good practice for more risky locations." The caravan laagered up and soon cooking fires were started inside the circle.  The food was not the best, but Jimbob has never learned to be picky about food. He ate in silence as was his habit. As the fires dwindled, those who had made sleeping arrangements bedded down.  Trethor handed him a thin blanket. "Sorry, but it's all I've got extra. I've got first watch tonight so get some sleep, kid; you'll need it." Jimbob thanked him and pulled the scratchy material around him as he tried to find a reasonably soft patch of ground.  He was too exhausted to search long, and fell into a fitful sleep right away.<BR><BR>   <SPAN> <EM>He was running after his parents' wagons, trying to warn them of danger, but he couldn't catch up close enough for them to hear. He was moving in slow motion as they drew ever farther away, heedless of his cries. To his horror, a huge crack opened up ahead of them, but they didn't stop or even slow down as first one then the other wagon tipped soundlessly into the abyss.....</EM><BR><BR>    </SPAN>"Wake up, Jimbob!" Trethor shook the young man.  Jimbob leaped to his feet like a startled deer and sat back down, gasping for air.  "Bad dream?" He nodded. "To be expected, with all you've been through." The guard pointed to the faint glow in the eastern sky. "Anyway, it's almost dawn. People will start waking soon." "Trethor, what should I expect in Qeynos? Is there a way for me to make a living? Will I have somewhere I can live? Will people know I"m from the Steppes? And how do I go about becoming a healer?"  "Whoa, lots of questions! Well, first things first. You will arrive and be able to purchase a very cheap room for 5 silver a week, in one of the outlying towns rather than Qeynos proper.  Expect lots of people of all races you can imagine, and the city itself is vast and quite a sight.  They see all kinds of people so you won't stand out as much as you think.  Making a living is quite possible. Learn a trade and pursue it. There is always a market for items you make. Last thing... if you plan to become a healer, see the priests in the Celestial Watch in North Qeynos."<BR><BR>     The guards opened the pass gates and waved the caravan through. "I've never been to Antonica," Jimbob noted. "It's greener, and a bit safer in places, than the Steppes. Just not around Blackburrow and Stormhold. Those are real trouble spots; gnolls and undead." Trethor stretched and yawned. "Sentry watch really takes it out of me. At least I can rest at Gnollslayer Keep."  They trudged on down the pass until it opened up to reveal a softly lush green landscape, dotted with trees on rolling hills.  A large building was hazily visible in the distance. "What's that?" Jimbob asked, pointing. "Ah, that's our destination, Gnollslayer. We'll be there in a couple of hours."<BR><BR>     Jimbob looked up as the procession ground to a halt. He had been lost in thought and was surprised to see that they had indeed arrived at the Keep.  His next surprise stood in front of the moat bridge. There was the tallest human he had ever seen. "Who's that?" he asked Trethor in a low voice. "That's Sergeant Tillin. Good friend of mine." "I've never seen a man that tall, a human that is." "That's because he inherited his height from his Barbarian grandmother." This revelation shocked Jimbob. He had heard of crossbreeds of sentient species before, but had always thought they were myths. Was there something to the stories? "Yes, there are quite a few people of mixed race. Half Elves are just the most well-known, partly because the High Elves hold them in such disdain. But let's go and introduce you to Tillin."<BR><BR>    "Hey, hey look here, if it isn't my old buddy Trethor! And who is this with you?"  The big red bearded human was even more imposing close up. Jimbob had to crane his neck to look up to him. "Tillin, this is Jimbob. He's going to Qeynos to seek his fortune." "Is that so? Well, good luck, kid. Hey Trethor, good news: we finally put so many people out on patrol that the gnolls decided to fall back a bit.  Keeping them off-balance is helping a lot." Jimbob wandered away to see the surroundings while the two guards caught up on the news.  He noticed a rickety-looking platform partially visible over a nearby hill.  What on Norrath could that be? His mental query was answered as a huge Griffon soared overhead and glided in for a landing on the platform. Then a passenger climbed off its back and down the tower ladder as the Griffon settled into its aerie. A tame Griffon! He had never seen one, only the fierce ones that were known to pick off livestock on outlying farms in the Steppes.... memories of farm life flooded back unbidden, and his family, mother, brother, sister, and father. His vision blurred and he gritted his teeth in a vain attempt to stave off his sorrow and homesickness.  Finally he just sat on the ground and buried his face in his hands.</DIV>

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter Eight - Headlong<BR><BR>     "Well, that's all I heard from them about....say, where did Jimbob go?" Trethor wondered.  Tillin looked around. "Hmm, don't see him---wait! There he is, uh oh, something's wrong!" Tillin took off running down the hillside, Trethor right at his heels, toward the scene of a young man backing up frantically from a menacing wolf.  <BR><BR>     He had been sitting there when a low growl interrupted his thoughts. Jimbob had tried to get rocks and trees between himself and the crazed animal, but it was quick and relentless. He had been lucky so far that the wolf had not pressed home the attack, but it was getting more agitated. Flecks of foam hung from its muzzle and flew in all directions as it snapped at him, just missing his left leg.  He danced back and grabbed a rock, hurling it right onto the wolf's tender nose.  A normal wolf would have retreated to take stock of the situation. Not this one. With a snarl it came at him again....<BR><BR>     "YAAAAH!" bellowed Tillin as he and Trethor came running. The startled animal whirled around to confront the new threat, and charged Trethor who was waving his sword in the air. As it passed Tillin, the big man's blade came down squarely on the creature's neck, and the severed parts dropped twitching into the dirt.  "Rabies," Trethor noted grimly as he examined the grisly remains.  Then he spun around and grabbed the still-shocked Jimbob by the shirt front.  "Did it bite you?" he demanded to know. "Ah, no, I don't think so, no, I'm all right," Jimbob murmured.  "Um, thank you both." "What were you doing over here?"  "I was looking at the Griffon tower  but then I guess I started thinking of home, and the next thing I knew that wolf attacked me." "You're very lucky, Jimbob. If you'd been bitten, it would only be a matter of  time before rabies killed you." Jimbob shuddered. Such a close call. If the wolf had been an inch closer when it tried to bite his leg....<BR><BR>     Back at the Keep, the caravan was getting ready for the next leg of the journey. Jimbob wasn't looking forward to the long walk, and said as much.  Tillin glanced at him, then at Trethor. "You don't suppose..." "Why not; he doesn't have any baggage, and with me staying here he has no friends for the rest of the trip anyway." "Then it's settled." Tillin motioned to another guard. "Take my place; I'll be back in a short while." Trethor walked over to the small human. "Let's go." "Where?" Jimbob wanted to know. "Kid, you're going on your first Griffon ride." The idea fascinated him, but honestly scared him a bit, too. How in Norrath did you ride one and keep from falling off?<BR><BR>  When they arrived at the tower a short time later, they were greeted by a human woman whose job it was to care for the big birds.  "Hello, what is your destination?" she inquired. "I'm not going anywhere," said Trethor, "but this young man needs to go to Qeynos Gate Station." The guard gestured to Jimbob. "He's never been on a Griffon." "All right then, here's the basic rules. Choose  your destination, climb onto the Griffon using the stepladder and straps, and sit down behind the wings.  Hold onto the straps at all times, and don't try to move about on the Griffon's back; you could fall off. Remain seated until your mount has come to a complete stop."  "All right, Jimbob, time for you to go." Trethor held out his hand. "I'll be in town in about a month, so leave me a place to contact you with the Temple personnel.  Be sure to learn everything there is to know about Qeynos, and get a place to stay. I'll see you around, kid." Jimbob tried to shake his hand but instead Trethor patted him on the shoulder. "Heh. Good luck, Jimbob."<BR><BR>     He settled onto the Griffon with more than a little trepidation. He could ride a horse, but this was way different...the beast shot into the sky, nearly spilling him backwards. He hung onto the straps as the Griffon twisted and banked, his knuckles bloodless. The terrain below flashed by in a blur of trees, hills, and rivers, but he was way too scared to look down and enjoy the scenery. Grimly hanging on until the ride was over was his only way to cope. Then the mount soared high, and the scene opened up below....and Jimbob forgot to be afraid.  All of Antonica was spread out before him.  He relaxed a bit and then got a new surprise: he could see his destination now, the fair city of Qeynos.  He hadn't been able to imagine what a city looked like; this was nothing like Thundermist village!  As Jimbob took in the scene growing ever larger in his view, he was startled to find that the Griffon was stalling out and gliding in for a landing on another platform. A few moments later he climbed off and just stood looking at the city.  "Please clear the platform," said the handler.  He did so, climbing down the sloping ramp to the ground below, then walking over toward a huge moat with a set of gates behind it.  "Welcome to Qeynos," said a guard.  He was really here. Now what? Just go in? Jimbob cautiously walked up to the gate, which swung open to reveal the bustling city. <BR><BR>     Once inside, he was buffeted by strange sights, sounds, and smells. There were people everywhere! And so many different ones, some of whom he'd never seen the likes of before. Elves, Halflings, Gnomes, and to his shock a huge Ogre who seemed to be accepted.  There was commerce and trade, traffic and street fairs, banking and weapon repair, all a whirl of color and noise. Jimbob asked a Barbarian guard where he could find a place to stay. "Most humans stay in either Starcrest or Nettleville villages. The gates to both are west down this street 4 blocks on the left. 5 silver a week will get you a small place." His money wouldn't last long at that rate; he figured he had better find work and build up some worth. He found the gates and just by chance picked the one for Starcrest.  Once through, he was able to catch his breath.  This was indeed a village, though crowded, and would be an easier place to live than the swirling city.  The inn was right by the bank, and everything was convenient and easy to find.  Jimbob paid his 5 silver for a small one room place, and splurged another few silver on a cheap mattress.  He carried it in, set it down, and collapsed atop it, falling into a dreamless sleep.</DIV>

[StormQueen]

<DIV> Chapter Nine: Finding a Way<BR><BR>     He stepped out of the Luminary Cache into the bright afternoon sunshine, rubbing his face and neatly trimmed beard. Finally, through with that order...getting the fit right for a Froglok customer was a real challenge!  Tailoring was not an easy job, but it was paying the rent and providing him food.  Jimbob sighed and looked around at Starcrest, not for the first time, and wondered about making the trip back to North Qeynos. He hadn't been there in a few months, preferring the quieter environs of the village.  But now he had saved up enough money, and he had made himself good clothing, and had gotten used to life in the city.  Maybe it was time to pursue his dream.<BR><BR>     "Great, Jimbob," exclaimed Trethor when he heard the news. "When are you going?"  "I think right away, while the weather is still good. The Temple acolytes said I should go now rather than wait." "That sounds like a good idea.  They don't ship trainees out to Queen's Colony in the stormy months, you know. Just too dangerous."  The guard smiled and pulled open the gate. "Good luck, and write back and let me know how it's going." Trethor stuck out his hand and Jimbob shook it. "Thank you, Trethor. Stay safe."<BR><BR>     Through the hustle and bustle of  people going about their daily lives,  a person might lose sight of a smallish human figure working its way north through the long streets.  Hawkers, street hustlers, singers, dancers, and merchants made a cacophony of sound and a distracting sight.  But Jimbob had one goal in mind and paid no attention to the hubbub.  When he had arrived the previous year, he had been overwhelmed by the place. Now he only paid attention to the Temple of the Celestial Watch looming in the distance.  Over and over in his mind he went over what he would say on arrival. And what would they say?  He wasn't even sure if they were accepting new trainees, but one had to apply in person, so here he was approaching the front entryway of the structure.<BR><BR>     "Welcome to the Celestial Watch," greeted a High Elf. "What can I do for you, young human?" "I am here to apply to become a healer." The tall, white-haired man picked up a pen and made a notation in a large book. "All right. Name, and place of birth?"  "Jimbob Stormwalker, from Thundermist."  "Employment, if any, and residence?" "I'm a tailor; I work for myself. I rent a place in Starcrest." "What kind of healer are you planning to become? Cleric? Druid?" "Um, no, I want to be a Mystic." "A shaman? Really? That is a challenging role to take on, and one I've not seen many humans attempt in the past 200 years." The Elf made a notation in his book and looked up. "That will be 50 silver for training materials and 60 silver for transportation fees." Jimbob winced but dug out the necessary coinage and made the payment.  "Now enter the temple portal and wait for your name to be called. Good luck, human."<BR><BR>      The voyage had been uneventful, except for the constant queasiness. Jimbob had decided right then and there that he would never be a sailor.  But now he disembarked onto Queen's Colony with the other trainees to find their instructors waiting for them.  "Scouts, over here!" "Priests, please gravitate to me." "If yer a fighter, I'm the one ye'll be talking to."  "Please gather around, mages, and learn the arcane arts."  He waited until the knot of people had dispersed somewhat, then approached the priest trainer.  "Name and profession?" "Jimbob, Mystic."  The instructor pointed to a group of people standing by some training dummies. "They are here for you to hone your as-yet embryonic skills. Pick a partner and do some sparring, and when you think you are ready for a bigger challenge, come back and see me."<BR><BR>     He found an unoccupied sparring partner, and introduced himself. "Get ready," said the man, and he sprang to the attack. Jimbob swung the club he had been furnished, and dodged one hit only to take another. He gasped and without thinking cast a healing spell upon himself. Fully refreshed, he pressed the attack.  Though only sparring, his reactions were as if he were in a real battle.  Somewhere dimly in the back of his mind he wondered how this could be, and how he had been able to heal himself so easily compared to when Tabaar had tested him.  When the match was over,  Jimbob headed back to the instructor to report his success.  "But why was I able to to things I never even tried before, and to heal myself so easily?" "That is part of the training experience. Book learning and theory are no match for real situations, and it is how we weed out those who cannot make use of  magic. But from now on you will fight real enemies whose aim is to kill you and destroy this colony.  Bring back proof of your success and you will earn merit and some armor."<BR><BR>     Jimbob had taken the advice, and soon he had honed his abilities and gained new ones from experience.  But now he had an assignment that looked way too difficult to do alone. "Anyone here needing help with their assignments?"  came a loud voice from over near the fighter trainer.  He glanced over and saw a Barbarian waving a sword and gesturing. "Together we can mow down these foul goblins and their leaders." He was intrigued, and walked over and introduced himself. "I'm Jimbob, a Mystic. Want to work on this together?" The huge man turned and saw him, and he laughed. "A human Mystic? Indeed, that is funny. I'm Tyndall, Berserker." He clapped Jimbob on the shoulder, staggering him. "Oops, sorry." "Um, what's funny about me being a Mystic?" "Oh, just never seen one before, a human shaman that is. But we sons of Halas have produced many powerful shamans. My father is a Mystic, and his uncle before him, back to the old times when we lived in Everfrost." Tyndall frowned. "Oh, sorry to waste time. Let's go get those foul beasts."<BR><BR>     This was a luxury to the smallish human. Now instead of taking the blows himself, and trying to counterattack and keep himself healed, he could just keep the fighter healed and sicken the enemies. The berserker's taunts took care of them noticing Jimbob standing a few feet back and doing some real damage himself.  And Tyndall could really swing that sword, to the detriment of the attackers.  The fights were quick and relatively easy for the two of them, and soon they both found that learning new arts was the key to continued success.  "Watch this," Tyndall crowed as a crowd of angry goblins closed in. He reversed his sword and swung it underhanded, pivoting on one foot as he did so. The flashing blade tip wreaked havoc, knocking down the freshly wounded creatures. He then shouted an oath that made them even angrier, and they rejoined the fight, attacking madly. Jimbob warded off the damage they caused, as Tyndall cut them down one after another until all lay dead at his feet. "That was fun!" the blood-spattered Halasian grinned. Fun? Seemed like serious business to the Mystic, but to each his own....<BR>     <BR>     Each of them now sported sets of armor for the work they had done defending the Colony.  Jimbob had chainmail, while Tyndall wore heavy plate armor.  They had forged a friendship between them through their battles and celebrations over the past few months.  "What do ye think?" asked the Barbarian as they sat in the courtyard one evening. "Are we ready to report back to Qeynos and start working in the real world?" "Well, I'm guessing we might be. I haven't really found anything new or challenging here in the past couple of weeks myself. We need new situations."  "That clinches it then. I was getting really bored with this place too. Let's see if they will let us take the next ship out."</DIV>

[StormQueen]

<DIV> Chapter Ten: Familiarity<BR><BR>    Jimbob got his belongings out of storage and, with Tyndall's help, hauled them over to the inn, where he reinstated his apartment lease.  "We need to get ourselves over to North Qeynos and report in," he commented. "Sounds good, but first let's stop in Graystone. Dad should be home, and I think you two should meet." Jimbob nodded his assent, though he was not sure what a veteran Mystic, especially a Barbarian, would think of him. Would he be considered less than a true shaman; an upstart?  He sighed and tried not to worry about it.<BR><BR>    It was only a short jaunt to Graystone Yard, home of Dwarves and Barbarians both. What a contrast the two races presented; Jimbob was alternately craning his neck to see the Halasians and quickly glancing down to avoid stumbling over a Dwarf.  "Quite a difference, wouldn't ye say?" chuckled Tyndall. "But we get along famously, both races being "from the forge", as it were." "What does that mean?" "Oh, if ye study Halasian lore and history ye will find we have our own name for ourselves as do the Dwarves. But time for that later. Let's go see my father." They entered the tavern and climbed the back stairs to a set of doors. "This one," Tyndall indicated the one at the far end. He tapped at the door, and a reply came. "It's open; come on in."<BR><BR>    The human Mystic followed the Barbarian Berserker into a small apartment, quite similar to the one he had rented in Starcrest.  But this one was full of talismans and trophies of battle. It also held an older Barbarian man seated at a desk, just then in the act of rolling up a scroll.  He turned to stand up, then abruptly leaped to his feet. "Tyndall! Welcome home!"  He wrapped his son in a bear hug as Jimbob hung  back, scarcely able to believe his eyes. "Tabaar?" he managed to say. Then the older man saw him, and his jaw dropped. "Jimbob Stormwalker! What a surprise!" "I guess ye two have met," Tyndall noted with amusement as Tabaar laughed. "Ye really did it, human. Ye became a healer, I see. Let's go down to the tavern and have a couple drinks on me."<BR><BR>    It is considered very bad form to turn down a Halasian's offer of hospitality, and luckily Jimbob had no such intentions.  The three men sat down at a huge wooden butcherblock table and Tabaar ordered an assortment of Halasian and Dwarven ales.  "You'll love this one, Jimbob," he promised, and pushed a huge mug over to him.  The young human tasted the brew, and was pleased to find it was quite drinkable indeed.  "Now, tell me how ye got to be here.  Must be a good story," the older Mystic requested.  Jimbob looked down into his ale for a few seconds. "Remember when you and my father had that argument? When I went back to our camp, he demanded to know what you had said, and I told him. I asked my own questions, and I saw how bitter he was."  He drained the glass at a gulp, then wiped his mouth. "I don't know why, but I was terrified I would become like he was. I never knew all that about him, about my family, and honestly I didn't see any way to go back to the farm." "Well, what did ye do?" Tyndall's interest was growing as he had never heard this story. "I told him I couldn't go back to the farm." Tabaar waved his hand in a beckoning motion. "And?"  Jimbob grimaced, and set down his empty mug. Pain showed in his eyes as he muttered, "He disowned me."  Tabaar shook his head in sympathy. "Ye couldn't have changed his mind. Justice knows, I tried." "But why...." "I don't know, Jimbob. Some people can't abide loss and they deal with it in drastic ways."<BR><BR>    After that, most of what the young Mystic did was drink what was put in front of him. He had told the paltry details of what had transpired before he met Tabaar's son, and now Tyndall was regaling his dad with their exploits on the training isle. "Aye, we did teach those goblins who was in charge! They thought twice after that about storming the guard positions!" The Berserker was becoming a bit raucous as the alcohol took hold, and Tabaar was feeling pretty good too.  "One more round," he ordered the bartender.  The barmaid set out the ale as she cleared the empties, expertly managing 3 mugs in each hand.<BR>Another glass? Jimbob blearily tried to focus on the drink.  He was feeling woozy, and the room kept moving around.  He tipped it back, spilling a bit into his beard and down his front.  It tasted so good, though...so good....room narrowing...dark...  "Um, sir? I think you might have a problem," the barmaid said to Tabaar. She indicated Jimbob, who was slumped facedown across the table. "Whoa!" Tyndall interjected. "He tried to match us drink for drink I guess," Tabaar shrugged. "Well, let's get him back upstairs. He can sleep it off in the spare bed." Tabaar slung the unresponsive human across his shoulder and unsteadily made his way back upstairs.<BR><BR>     Oh, how his head hurt. And the light hurt his eyes. And sounds hurt his ears. He groaned and tried turning over. Where was he, anyway? What had happened? Slowly the room came into focus, and he thought he might be in his own apartment. But no. This was....ah, yes, Tabaar's home. Tyndall had brought him here. They had gone for a few drinks and...what? He couldn't remember for the life of him anything past his first glass of ale. Had he made a fool of himself? He sat up and gritted his teeth as the room spun a little. How had he gotten back here? He looked up as the Berserker opened the apartment door. "Aha, ye're awake. How are ye feeling?" "Like I was beat up and dragged through a sewer." "That'll pass. Do ye think ye can get to yer feet?" Jimbob tried, and after stumbling a bit, stood swaying. "Good, good; today we'll head to North Qeynos. Dad is already there buying supplies for his next trip." "Did I do anything stupid in the alehouse?" "Ye made a pass at the owner's daughter, ye did," chuckled the big man. "Ah, no, I'm just joshin' ye," he hastily added when he saw Jimbob's horrified look. "All ye did was drink what was there, and kinda... well, ye passed out it seems. So I carried ye back here.  But no matter; no one will hold it against ye, least of all in this town." </DIV>

[Koilla]

<P>isnt it time do write chapter 11?</P> <P>where has it gone? i want MORE OF THIS STUFF</P> <P>exzellent, cool, amazing story that your write here. please go on with that, i love it!!!!</P>

[StormQueen]

<DIV> Chapter Eleven: A Reckoning<BR><BR>    The daylight was almost dazzling, but by the time they got to North Qeynos, Jimbob's hangover had subsided to the point where he felt approximately...well, human, anyway.  "Told ye, a  little fresh air and sunshine'll put ye right as rain," Tyndall observed as they approached the Claymore Plaza.  Bards, magicians and dancers swirled around the base of the giant sword, entertaining the bustling crowds streaming by, creating a colorful cacophony that acted as a magnet for the senses. The central location was ideal; there was almost no way to get through the city without passing very near the Plaza. Guard posts nearby, like on the Castle steps, were sought after as the usual boredom that goes with such a position was missing.<BR><BR>    "Could ye wait here? I need to talk to the guards there," the Berserker pointed at the ones by the steps. "I'll be back in a bit." Jimbob watched him walk over to the guards and engage one in an animated discourse.  From where he stood, Jimbob couldn't hear, but he could certainly see the Barbarian's emphatic gestures.  What good arguing with the Queen's Guard would do, he didn't know.  He turned his attention to a song-and-dance act; it was a fairly good show so he dropped a silver piece in the donations jar. A lute-playing bard nodded his thanks as the young Mystic sat down to enjoy the rest of the show.<BR><BR>    "Ah, there ye are." He looked up to see Tabaar laden down with several parcels and string bags. "Where's Tyndall?"  "Last I looked, he was over there by the Castle steps, arguing with a guard." "I see him. Son thinks he can harangue his way to better employment....ha!" Tabaar snorted.  "What he needs is some real world hard knocks.  Hmm.. don't ye need to get to the Temple yet?" "I do, yes, but I've been waiting for Tyndall."  "Ah, go see the Celestial Watch; I'll let him know where ye are."<BR><BR>    The Temple was tucked into the northwest corner of the city, very near the gateway to Elddar Grove.  Both the location and the architecture were quite pleasing to the eye, relaxing and contemplative in mood.   Jimbob walked down the steps into the lakeside courtyard.  The same Elf was there at the administration post, assigning training to prospective members.  "How can I help you, young human?" "I just returned from Queen's Colony." "Name and profession?" "Jimbob, Mystic." "Ah, yes, here we are," the registrar remarked as he scribbled something on a scroll.  "Was your training satisfactory?" "Yes, thank you." "One more thing, I need to see your certificate of completion." Jimbob riffled through his pack and handed it over. The Elf stamped it with some sort of inked seal and handed it back. "Guard that carefully; it's your proof of fitness to serve Queen and Qeynos."<BR><BR>  A notice on the wall read, "All certified trainees are to report to the inner temple for further assignment."  He looked up at the flattened oval building suspended over the lake, and wondered how one got in there.  Just then an acolyte brushed by him and down the walkway, striding straight toward the end and a drop into the water. But just before she stepped off the end, she vanished utterly.  Jimbob did a double take. This was very weird. He cautiously approached the walkway one step at a time and stepped carefully onto it. Nothing. Wait. There was a faint glow in the air in front of him. Another step, and another, then one more to the end of the dock...he found himself not about to fall in the water but inside a circular pavilion. <BR><BR>  One Erudite noticed the young man's bewilderment, and hurried over. "I am Inharveniango, a senior acolyte of the Celestial Watch, and this is the inner Temple. May I help you?"  Jimbob turned to see a tall gray-skinned man with glowing runes on his forehead and a kind expression in his eyes. "Um, yes, I just got back from Queen's Colony and I guess I need to talk to someone about assignments." "That is something I can help you with. What is your chosen profession?" "I am a Mystic, at least I'm trying to be one." "Ah, yes, then you would be Jimbob?" "Well yes, but how would you know my name?" "In the past 100 years we've had maybe 3 humans go through the entire training to master the Shamanic arts. It is a MUCH more difficult path than to be a cleric or a druid, for that matter. And city humans have not the clan or tribal ties and traditions that for instance the Dwarves or Barbarians do.  But I digress. Here is a list of persons you are to see in various parts of Qeynos. They have tasks to carry out, and you can help lighten the workload and at the same time get some valuable skill building. Sometimes they even might have a useful item they are willing to part with, if you are prompt and efficient."<BR><BR>    He wandered back out of the Temple grounds, perusing the list. Errand boy, he thought.  Where was the fame and glory? Hmm...well, a baby crawls before it can walk, he pondered, and I guess I have to prove myself before I can gain recognition.  Jimbob made his way back toward the Claymore Plaza, watching for either Tabaar or Tyndall.  But they were a lot taller than he, and spotted him first. "Ah, there ye are, young human," Tabaar exclaimed. Tyndall followed closely behind, looking uncharacteristically glum. "What's wrong, Tyndall?" "Nothing, don't worry about it, Jimbob."  "I'll tell ye what is eatin' at him," the older Barbarian smirked. "He has to do chores. Just like I did at his age and skill level.  He wants to go out and cover himself with glory and the blood of Qeynos' enemies, but he isn't ready. So he has to learn and grow." "So did he get a list of people to see about vermin removal? That's what I got..." "Exactly! If either one of ye went out to fight the orcs in Zek, for instance,  with yer present abilities, ye would die quickly and violently. We need live fighters, not dead heroes."<BR><BR>    Tyndall strapped on his greaves and pushed himself to his feet. "So we go bring in sewer rats for a bounty. Bah. I sure hope we get some sort of promotion."  Jimbob pulled on his chain helm and picked up his spear.  "Look, you have the patience to braid that beard of yours every day. Let's have a little patience here and we can make all of Qeynos proud." Tyndall guffawed and slapped the small human across the back, staggering him yet again.  "Ye know, ye're right.  But how do ye practice patience? Ye just trim yer beard the moment it gets longer than a thumb width." The young Mystic smiled and shook his head. "I can't hit enemies hard, nor can I take the blows you can. I can heal, ward, and cure my friends.  I can sicken enemies, slow their reactions, even call down the cold of the hereafter's gate on them. But doing all that and remembering how to call the spirits' help to do so is a matter of great concentration. So I have to have patience, or I could make costly mistakes in combat."  He craned his neck to look up at the seven-foot-tall Berserker. "Let's go and begin our journey to fame and recognition."</DIV>

[StormQueen]

<p>Chapter Twelve: Proving Grounds     Manydays were spent honing their talents and aiding Qeynos; many nights were spent in taverns boasting of their derring-do and drinking the bar dry. That is, Tyndall made all the noise and did most of the drinking. Jimbob just sat and had his ale.  Often, young women would clusteraround to hear the Berserker brag of his daring exploits. He certainly didn't mind the attention. One particular evening the Barbarian walked into the Graystone tavern with a woman almost as big as he was hanging onto his arm. "Jimbob, this is Lillanna. We're gonna....err...see the sights in Qeynos. Later, human!"  Jimbob sat back and watched Tyndall and his date walk out the front door, with more than a little envy.  It was so easy for the Berserker to find women. All he had to do was tell stories and show off a little, and it didn't hurt thathe LOOKED like a mighty warrior.  What could Jimbob do, in the face of that? "Hey girls, I'm a mighty healer!  Enemies fear seeing the man doing all the fighting suddenly at full health again!"  The Mystic shook his head in disgust, slammed down hismug, and stalked out of the tavern into the night.    The light of the shattered moon Luclin cast a pattern of stark outlines and deep shadows in the Archer Woods. A furtive figure darted from thecover of one tree to the next, stopping only to look around for danger. "Looking for me?" asked a shadow as it detached from by a boulder. With a howl of despair, the ambushed gnoll met the attack. It snarled and scratched and bit at its attacker but couldn't seem to gain any advantage. It wasn't long before its attacker chanted a string of words, giving the gnoll a momentary opening which it pursued.  But just as it had its jaws open to snap down on an unprotected arm, the spell took effect. The doomed creature collapsed, retching violently and bleeding profusely from nose and ears.  A final thrashing of its scrawny legs, and it was still.   Jimbob caught his breath and made sure the area was clear. Then he bent down and cut off the gnoll's tail and one paw which bore a signetring.  These he stuffed in his pack for bounty. Now he had something to prove he was capable of fending for himself.  And just maybe... maybe...a woman somewhere would take notice.  These thoughts occupied him while he was walked up a narrow trail by a bluff.Suddenly there came a yipping bark from behind him, and he whirled to find he was the ambushed one now. Five gnolls cackled and rushed him. There was no time for anything but sheer desperation and stark terror as he defended himself as best he could.  He was thwarted many atime in his attempts to ward damage.  One gnoll brought a club around and the blow momentarily stunned him, allowing a second gnoll to bite him severely on the shoulder. Yet another one, a shaman, was chanting curses and healing words on its companions. The Mystic managedto protect himself with a warding spell long enough to get in some attacks himself, and luckily his spear did find an exposed gnoll belly.He frantically cured a horrible disease curse as the death scream of the spitted dog-man galvanized its fellow gnolls to a frenzy. Theirnumbers began to tell, and Jimbob began to feel dizzy from loss of blood.  He had to stop the gnoll shaman or he wouldn't have achance.   Stopping the shaman would prove difficult. The three other gnolls were a protective toothy barrier. <i>Exploit their weakness</i>, came a thought unbidden. Jimbob didn't have time to wonder where the idea had come from as he fought furiously.  He got off a slowing spell on the gnolls which helped greatly.  He focused on the shaman, throwing disease and cold its way.  <i>Exploit their weakness</i>, again the voice whispered in his mind. "What weakness?" he said out loud. The gnolls hesitated, confused. Oh, THAT weakness, Jimbob realized.  "You hit them from behind, I'll keep them busy," he called out to an imaginary assistant. It worked, as gnolls are easy to distract.  They all spun around to find the new threat, leaving themselves with no one to defend them against the Mystic, who now took advantage. His spear found the gnoll shaman's unprotected back, and as he yanked the weapon back out of the corpse, the other three gnolls realized they had been fooled. But they were just a little slow reacting. The Mystic's disease spell hit them hard, and there was no longer anyone to cure them. Soon only the human was left standing, dizzy and exhausted, beside the still-twitching carcasses. Slowly he regained his strength and healed his injuries. Now that he looked back,coming out here at night had been really stupid.  And where had that thought come from?   Trethor yawned and rubbed his eyes.  It had been a long boring night shift on South Qeynos outside gate duty. But the dawn was coloring the eastern sky, and soon his relief would be here...what was that?  Silhouetted against the brightening horizon was a stumbling, shambling figure which soon resolved itself into a filthy, disheveled human carrying a large bundle on his back.  Trethor drew his sword and called out, "Who goes there?"  The blood-smeared man stopped and looked up, dropping his pack. "It's just me, Trethor. Can you help me with this stuff?" "Jimbob! What've you been doing?  Did something attack you?" "Let's just put it this way: I went looking for trouble and it found me." The Mystic sat down heavily by the gate. Trethor turned and walked over and got the pack that the Mystic had dropped and brought it over to him. "So what were...oh...." Trethor interrupted himself as he realized  that Jimbob had fallen asleep almost instantly. Now what? He decided to have his relief keep an eye on him and let him rest. </p>

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter Thirteen: Further Growth<BR><BR>    Afternoon shadows had crept out from the city walls by the time Jimbob awoke, confused as to where he was.  A Kerra guard stood nearby  and a large gate was to his left. Oh, yes, he was just outside South Qeynos.  He sighed and stood up.  His pack lay beside him; it didn't smell all that great.  He gingerly swung it onto one shoulder.  Better get back to Starcrest, or rather to Graystone, he thought. By now he would have been missed.  "Tell Trethor thanks," he said to the guard, who nodded and swung open the gate. <BR><BR>    "No one has seen him since last night," Tabaar was informing a group of Barbarians and Dwarves.  "Ye talkin' 'bout that human always drinkin' here?" inquired a Dwarf. "Saw him walk through the gates 'bout an hour before closin' time."  "Yes, that's the last anyone saw of him.  Tyndall and I are about to go search Antonica for him; we already checked in Starcrest and no sign of him.  Anyone want to help?"  The crowd muttered and shuffled.  "I saw him this morning," came a human voice. Tabaar turned toward the doorway to see Trethor walk in. "Where?" "Outside South Qeynos Gate. He was in really rough shape. I had guard duty, so I let him rest there." "Ye sure he's all right?  Was he injured?"  "Don't think so but he walked to my post with a heavy pack and collapsed before I could talk to him.  So I let him sleep there."  "Well, let's go find him!" "No need," came a tired voice from the entryway.  "Jimbob!" shouted Tyndall and ran to crush him in a bear hug. He let go immediately. "What in the name of the Six Hammers? Ye look awful but ye smell even worse!" "Are ye all right, young human?" Tabaar demanded to know. "Um, yes, I think so." The young Mystic held up the noisome pack. "Got something to show you... outside of course." <BR><BR>    They followed him to a grassy area where he dropped the bag and opened the drawstring. He reached in and began pulling out gory trophies of his night's battles.  "Impressive, if a bit foolhardy," remarked Trethor.  "What was this, about a half dozen fights' worth?"  "Well, no, only two fights.  First fight was my choice. This" - he held up a gnoll tail and a ring-bearing gnoll paw - "was my idea. The other fight was an ambush."  Tabaar counted the gnoll parts. "Did ye say two fights? How many did ye take on?" "Well, here's what happened...."  Jimbob described his night in detail to his attentive audience.  "Ye're lucky to even be alive!" Tabaar exclaimed upon hearing the details.  "I've seen remains out that way," Tyndall interjected.  "Aye there are plenty of foolhardy adventurers rotting out there, Jimbob. Now let's go get ye cleaned up; Tyndall's right, ye do smell to the High Halls of Justice.  Then ye and I are going to have a private chat about this.<BR><BR>    Tabaar motioned Jimbob to a chair, then seated himself nearby. "First of all, do ye know how worried we were when ye turned up missing? No one knew yer plans or when ye intended to return."  Jimbob opened his mouth to speak, but Tabaar cut him off with a wave of his hand.  "Before ye say how ye are a grown man, I know this but ye do have a responsibility to those who care about ye.  Now I know this just isn't like ye, young human. Ye do have a good head on yer shoulders. So I'm expecting a good explanation for this fool stunt."  Jimbob drew a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. "I....I was sitting in the tavern when your son came in with yet another girl on his arm.  He has it so easy! Big hero warrior...no one ever notices me, none of the girls do.  I'm just a wimp." Tabaar stifled a chuckle. "Is that what this is all about? Ye want to meet women? I'll have ye know, Jimbob, that girls who flock to be impressed aren't worth the trouble.  Tyndall likes the attention but none of his dates are anyone I would want for him for a wife."  He leaned forward and picked up a small book from a shelf and handed it to the human. "A woman who's interested in ye for who ye are, not what ye do for a living, is who ye need search for. Open that and have a look."<BR><BR>    Jimbob stared at the portrait of a hearty young Barbarian couple, trying to figure out what Tabaar was getting at. Then he looked up at the big man.  Familiar..."Is that you?"  "Aye, 'tis me and my beloved Aernatha, back when we were first married."  "Um... what happened to her?" Jimbob asked, as he had never heard mention of Tabaar's wife.  "We had two good years together, and then she became pregnant, much to our joy.  But something went wrong during childbirth. There was so much blood...the baby was all right but...." Tabaar's face distorted. "There was naught anyone could do," he choked out. "With no blood left in her body I couldn't revive her. No one could.  She awaits me in the Halls of Justice now; I miss her so much still."  "I'm sorry, I never knew." Jimbob carefully handed the portrait back to the red-eyed Barbarian, who carefully returned it to its shelf . <BR><BR>  The young Mystic pondered,  "Would it be safer then to simply refuse to care?"  Tabaar looked at him sharply.  "Safer? Maybe at first, but by putting up walls ye will wall out happiness and love.  And the prison it would become would warp ye.  Yer father's example is a warning to ye. Better that ye realize that there is someone out there for ye, and one day ye will meet. Don't expect to have any control over the situation, but then ye will see what love really can be."<BR></DIV>

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter 14: Something Wicked...<BR><BR>    The dank stinking passageways didn't seem to faze the Ratonga Bloodsaber scout any, mused the Kerra. Probably its natural habitat anyway.  "Thiss ways," the small creature indicated a room filled with statuary and arcane symbols inscribed on the grey walls. There was no place to sit, but he wouldn't want to touch anything more than he had to in such a filthy, dangerous place anyway.  "Brings news from Freeports?"  queried the Ratonga.  "The only news you need is that more progress is expected.  We need that shaft dug all the way to the tomb by morning. Delays will NOT be tolerated."  The scout looked up and hastily  replied, "Indeed we's close!  Qeynos not knows tunnel is there.  We digs it big enoughs to lets many through."  The Kerra stalked to the archway and turned to face the Bloodsaber. "Be sure you are ready when we return to assess your work. Do not fail us. For the Overlord!" he asserted and slipped away into the shadows.<BR><BR>    Tyndall's breastplate and greaves were freshly repaired and polished to a gleaming shine, and his sword was newly honed and balanced.  He admired his reflection in a wall mirror, scowling fiercely and brandishing his weapon for effect. "Scary," Jimbob snickered from the doorway. The big man was startled and embarrassed. "Ah...well...that is, I need to look good." "Why? Got a hot date?" The Berserker waved his hand impatiently. "The Qeynos Guard is considering me for a position!  Just need to interview and complete a couple of assignments."  "Well, congratulations, Tyndall!  I'm glad to hear it." "Aye, thank ye. Trethor said he'd put in a good word for me so I think I've got the job."<BR><BR>    A narrow canyon led up into a small glade, easily defended and hidden from prying eyes.  The Kerra much preferred places like this. Especially this particular Kerra, after being in those stinking sewers.  The creak and rattle of dry bones reached his sensitive ears a moment before a mindless skeleton came running from behind a tree, intent on destroying intruders. "Desist! Friend!" called out a Dark Elf woman from atop a sloping shelf of rock.  The skeleton abruptly whirled around and shuffled over to her.  "It's a new one I'm trying out. A bit enthusiastic, maybe, but it takes orders well."  She peered down at the Kerra. "Speaking as such, Clawmark, does that rat know his place? Has he made the necessary progress?" "Yes, milady, they are very near to the tomb wall and directly under the castle at the disused storeroom our contact mentioned."  "These Qeynosians are slipshod, soft, and complacent.  They don't even realize the danger."  The Necromancer showed her teeth in a mirthless rictus of a grin. "Once and for all, to topple their kingdom...the Overlord will reward us well.  Plenty of slaves, and undead armies to raise.  But for now we must proceed with caution.  The less who know our intentions, the better."  She fixed Clawmark with a sharp look. "Those Bloodsabers, there are too many to keep a secret. Find a way to make them unable to tell tales." The Kerra drew his whiskers forward in anticipation. "It shall be done, milady."<BR><BR>    "We need you to scout around the Down Below a bit," said a senior Palace Guard.  "Rumor has it that the Bloodsabers have been seen down there again and in Vermin's Snye, and we need reports on any activity you can safely observe."  Tyndall nodded. "Am I allowed assistance?" "Yes you may take one other person with you, but you must still do the work yourself."  The Berserker thanked the guard and set off to look for the Mystic, figuring he would still be at the Temple.  He came down the steps and looked up at the Inner Temple, wondering how it was suspended. A flash of movement startled him, and he responded automatically, swinging his shield into a blocking position. A bear was loose on the walkway!  Tyndall didn't have time to bring his sword around as the animal crashed into him, bowling him over. The shield and sword went skittering  across the path as Tyndall stared up into the maw of the growling beast. "Rrrawwr...rhaa rhaa rhoo rhee...bad place to be standing, Tyndall," it said as to the Barbarian's astonishment it wasn't a bear anymore but an amused human shaman.  "Jimbob! What? How...how did ye do that?" "Well, Tabaar told me I could learn the art of taking on the spirit of the Bear, and thus its shape and characteristics.  It seems to work, but I'm still learning how to control my movements in that form. Didn't your dad ever talk about the shamanic arts?" "Aye, a bit, but I had no interest in listening. I wanted to hear tales of the Wolves of the North, our ancient warrior society." He shook his head ruefully and picked up his weapon. "Guess I should have paid attention. Only time I've ever been disarmed, and by a puny human Mystic." He held the sword up to catch the sunlight. "Seems all right. Oh, would ye like to help me on my assignment?" "Sure thing, when do we start?" "Let's have a drink at the tavern. I'll tell ye about it then."<BR><BR>     Clawmark walked through the tunnel from the tomb side all the way to the terminus under Qeynos.  The work was complete, and the tomb wall was breached but not broken.   In case someone entered the tomb it might escape notice.  Good workmanship. Too bad they are expendable... I could use them, he thought.  He padded back toward the alcove where the Bloodsabers would be.  This time a runner saw the approaching Kerra from quite a distance.  The Ratonga scout hurriedly assembled the entire work crew inside the meeting chamber.  "Bees on yous best behaviors," he cautioned the assortment of Ratonga, Gnomes, Half Elves and Humans.  "We's done goods; we's getting rewards. Ah, here he comes!"  Clawmark stalked in and raked the assembled throng with his keen gaze.  "All are here? None missing?"  "Indeeds yes, honored one," bowed the Ratonga.  The Kerra nodded and took a step forward. "Milady sends her compliments, seeing you wretches have actually managed to do as ordered."<BR><BR>     "Interesting," Jimbob acknowledged. "I've been down there twice and never saw any trace of the Bloodsabers.  Mostly what I saw was vermin of all kinds, not strong enemies but numerous.  Did they say what you needed to do?" "Aye,  observe what I see and report back.  Way too vague for me." "I'm sure we can find danger in there, Tyndall."  "Aye, but most likely the biggest danger is the sewers themselves; old and crumbling they are." The human tipped his drink back and took a long swallow.  "We'll have to be careful then and take it slow and easy.  We should be rested up for better alertness too."  "Aye, so get a good night's sleep. We'll meet in front of Graystone Tavern at sunrise." <BR><BR>    In the statuary room a few whistles and cheers rang out, but the Kerra silenced them with a glare.  "The Overlord desires strong subjects, not weaklings.  We aren't Qeynosians; we dont divvy up booty like this was a children's party.  No," he said as he unslung his heavy pack, "you have to TAKE  what you can get.  I will set this pack down and walk out of this room.  First come, first served." Clawmark tossed a gold coin to the Ratonga scout.  "Here, your commission."  Twenty-three greedy pairs of eyes watched the flashing coin land in the Ratonga's nimble hands, saw the Kerra drop the pack by a support post, and observed him leaving the room at a swift walk.  As one they rushed forward to claim the rest of the gold, screaming, shouting and shoving.  As elbows jabbed  and fists flew, someone finally got the catch undone and yanked the flap open. Well down a side passageway Clawmark crouched, hands over ears. He wasn't disappointed when there came a shattering explosion, then the echoes mixed with screams, and the unmistakeable groaning screeching sound of a ceiling giving way, which silenced the agonized cries.  The Kerra stood, smiled with predatory satisfaction, and listened carefully for signs of life.  There were none.<BR><BR><BR></DIV>

[Guillati]

Very nice story, please continue <img src="/smilies/3b63d1616c5dfcf29f8a7a031aaa7cad.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> To tell the truth I was enraptured by the story <img src="/smilies/69934afc394145350659cd7add244ca9.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" />

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter 15: ....This Way Comes<BR><BR>    The sewer lid dropped back into place with a dull clank, plunging the access shaft into near total darkness. The sputtering torch in Jimbob's hand threw fitful shadows across the dank walls as Tyndall clambered down the ladder to join him.  "Where do we start?" the Berserker wanted to know.  "Well, there are usually a few maintenance workers up in the gallery room.  Maybe they've heard something." A short walk and climb up a spiraling stone staircase revealed the fairly well-lit staging area for the workers.  Tyndall hurried over to the group of people. "Have any of ye seen Bloodsabers in here?"  A woman spoke up and swore she had seen 3 of them darting down a side passage the previous week.  Several others nodded and agreed, and mentioned sightings of their own.  "Were these all in the same area?" Jimbob wanted to know.  After everyone compared notes, it was realized that the north quadrant was where most activity seemed to originate.  "Then that's where we'll start," asserted the Berserker.<BR><BR>    "See, milady?  Everything is in place.  And the ...witnesses...have been silenced." "Are you absolutely certain, Clawmark?" "Yes, milady, I booby-trapped the reward satchel and the roof collapsed on them all.  None remain alive."  The Necromancer looked around the tunnel and its end at the partially breached tomb wall.  "Let's make sure the tomb itself is not disturbed," she ordered. The Kerra lead the way through the twisting maze of passages and back around to the tomb entrance.  The Dark Elf walked inside, inhaling deeply of the scent of death.  "Excellent, excellent.  All these corpses," she indicated with a wave of her hand.  "My army of conquest.  Of course, the Overlord will want the lion's share. But,"  here she fixed Clawmark with an intense look, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." It took the Kerra man a couple of seconds to fully realize what the Necromancer meant, then it was too late.  With a vicious oath, she cast a paralysis upon him as he tried to run. "Oh, in a way I regret this," she remarked, as Clawmark gaped at her, unable to move or speak.  "You have been very useful and I hate to waste good tools. But I cannot have you reporting back to Lucan. This is mine alone." <BR><BR>    "Hmm, this place is huge, " remarked the Barbarian.  "Why don't ye take that passage and I'll go this way.  If ye see anything, come right back here and tap twice on this wall.  I'll do the same."  Each man cautiously advanced, watching for any sign of unusual activity.  All Jimbob was finding, though, was dank alcoves and nasty vermin scurrying about.  Then he heard TAP TAP and retraced his steps immediately. Tyndall was waiting for him and hurriedly motioned him to follow.  A passage opened up to a damaged room, one with a collapsed roof  and partially blocked doorway. "Hear that?" the big man asked.  Jimbob strained to catch sound and then he did hear it too, a whimpering cry that was not animal in origin.  "I think someone's trapped in there. But I cannot get past the debris." "I'll give it a try." The human got on his hands and knees and worked his way past the broken doorframe; it was a tight fit but he popped through.  "What do ye see?" hissed the Berserker.  "Nothing yet....OH... by the forgotten...Tyndall, I think we've found a Bloodsaber. And it's badly hurt."<BR><BR>    The Necromancer bound the Kerra with arcane chains. "You see,  Lucan is just too small-minded to see what is the real goal of the Tier'Dal.  This is understandable; he is of a lesser race, as are you.  Cattle aren't given a place at negotiations. They stay in the barn and field until milked or slaughtered.  Our goal is lofty, to see Neriak restored to its former glory, to rule Norrath and ultimately to bring the destruction Luclin suffered.  You will assist me with all your knowledge." With that last sentence, she cast a bolt of a spell that invaded Clawmark's soul like a grappling hook and tore it loose from his body.  She drew it from the still-living husk and it screamed its anguish in her mind as she trapped it within.  "Now I will grant you a privilege. Watch through my eyes."  The Kerra's disembodied soul had no choice.  "I have learned to trap and transfer souls of non sentient creatures.  Oh, I could make this body you vacated into a zombie, but this is more satisfying."  She chanted a long Tier'Dal phrase, and the Kerra's body twitched and jerked.  "Time to release it, now that it contains a soul again.  Now it is truly nothing more than a cat."  The Dark Elf waved her hand, and the Kerra's body howled and screeched, dropped to all fours, and pelted from the room.  The Necromancer laughed as Clawmark's soul cried out in its mental prison.  She drew strength and power from the suffering of other, lesser beings, and now it was time to take what her superior race was destined to possess.<BR><BR>    Jimbob hastily cast a healing spell on the trapped Ratonga, but it didn't seem to have a lot of effect. The creature's face was lined with pain, and it watched him with beady eyes.  "Who are you?" the Mystic wanted to know. "It's...not importants. We digs tunnels for Freeports and Freeports kills Bloodsabers as rewards." "Tunnel? What tunnel?"  "Froms tomb to castle rooms. Makes for invasions.  But theys treacheries kills all my friends..." the Ratonga shuddered and gasped out, "Kerras do this, brings Dark Elfs to raise undeads..." Jimbob hurriedly searched for a lever a short iron bar lay nearby; he grabbed it and tried to pry the heavy stones off the injured Bloodsaber.  A piece shifted and he pulled the creature free.  But to his horror he held only half a Ratonga, and it died a moment later.  Tyndall, peering through the opening, gasped in shock.  Jimbob dropped the mangled body and leaned against a wall, trying not to be sick.  "Now we have real problems," he finally managed to grate out. "Ye don't say. What tomb, what tunnel was he talking about?" "I have no idea. Let's go ask the maintenance crew."<BR><BR>    She continued her inspection of the spacious burial chamber.  It would serve her needs extraordinarily well, she noted with satisfaction.  Not only were there a series of crypts, each with their occupant, but additional hasty interments had been made atop numerous raised platforms.  The scent of old death was invigorating, especially since these were sworn enemies.  But the smell of fresh blood, now that would be .... so fulfilling.  It always gave her a rush, too, to raise undead to fight their former friends and country.  But time to get to work. Necromancy on this scale took time; she needed to animate each one and suspend it for activation until she had the entire army built up. Then to release them upon unsuspecting Qeynos.  The first long-dead hero rattled to grim unlife.....<BR></DIV>

[StormQueen]

<P>Chapter 16: Vengeance Wrought</P> <P> </P> <P>    "There are several tombs within the confines of this sewer system," explained Superviser Marcuso.  "We're looking for a large one in the northern area," replied Jimbob.  "Ah, yes, that tomb. Some still call it the Harbor Night tomb, but it is commonly referred to as Wimbley Tomb.  It was built after a battle Qeynos had with an invasion force. Our city suffered terrible losses during that battle, and it is whispered that it very nearly fell.  This was during the Rending, and people didn't want a prominent reminder of our vulnerability. So the defenders' tomb was built in the sewer extension. Wimbley was the name of the knight whose regiment's sacrifice ensured our victory, at a great price.  Wimbley himself is not buried there; his body was never found."  "How many are buried there?" "Oh, many families had private burials. So say one in four or five non-civilian casualties...around a hundred I'd say." "Might ye be able to show us the way?" Tyndall wanted to know. "Sorry, I can't leave my post, but I'll make a map for you."</P> <P>    "Hmm... left or right here?"  The Berserker consulted the map by flickering torchlight.  "Straight down this passage until we reach a left turn after a small alcove."  Jimbob stopped suddenly. "Did you hear that?" Tyndall strained to hear, then shook his head.  Jimbob shrugged; it was all too easy to imagine things in a dank dripping noisome sewer.  They found the passage to the left, rounded the corner, and cautiously looked for signs of activity.  The Barbarian looked down at the map to recheck their orientation; no use getting lost in the maze of tunnels.  "All right, looks like only a couple more turns and we'll be th...Jimbob! What's wrong with ye?" The young Mystic was leaning against a wall, gasping for breath.  "I....I don't know," he managed to say, and then slid to the floor in a heap.</P> <P>    <EM>Come help us, </EM>a voice said in his mind. He found himself floating in an otherworldly state, in a place like a room with other spirits. He sensed he was somehow there and yet maintained a tenuous connection to the physical world.  <EM>We do not have much time, </EM>one indicated. <EM>Evil threatens to overwhelm.  There are plans afoot that will wreak destruction on your world, and even bring chaos to the next.  This disaster must be averted at any cost. </EM>The spirits agreed and appealed to him once more. <EM>Our tomb is the battleground now. Your enemy even now raises an abominable army from our mortal remains.  </EM>Jimbob knew this was a trance, but he felt like he was one of them, a departed spirit, and indeed they noticed this.<EM>  You must go back now, before you become too attached to this plane.  You have work to do in life.  </EM>The Mystic's spirit acquiesced. <EM>What must I do?</EM>  The reply came to him as he fell into a swirling darkness.  <EM>Stop the Necromancer, no matter what, and be sure to render her undead horde inert. You have little time, but we will make a path for you to enter the tomb</EM>. <EM>Follow us.</EM></P> <P><EM>    </EM>The young Berserker was worried. He had seen his father enter shamanic trances before, but always at times and places under strict control.  This was unexpected, and he wished he knew more.  He reached down and shook the Mystic's shoulder. No response.  Jimbob seemed to stare at nothing with glazed eyes, and his skin was very cold.  Tyndall started to reach down to pick him up, but jumped back as the human scrambled to his feet without a word.  "Ah, ye're all right, then. What..." Jimbob was already walking ahead.  Tyndall caught up and tried to catch him by one arm.  To his astonishment, he was thrust aside as if he were light as a gnome.  "Wait!" he cried out. "What is going on?"  He was becoming frantic now, but his friend strode on, oblivious to his entreaties.  He followed Jimbob down the last passage to the tomb itself, where at last the entranced Mystic stopped.  "What're ye going to do? Talk to me," pleaded the worried Barbarian.    But all the experiences in the world, all the lore of the shamans, could not have prepared Tyndall for what happened next.  Jimbob the Mystic walked forward and simply disappeared <EM>through </EM>the tightly shut tomb entrance.</P> <P>    <EM>How did I get here, </EM>he wondered. Then he remembered. <EM>Bring my friend in too, </EM>he requested. <EM>This cannot be done, he is not able to endure the trance. He must find his own way in.  </EM>The young human heard chanting now, coming from farther on in the chamber.  He carefully took a step forward in the deep gloom.  Just visible to the sides of the room were skeletons in suspension, quite a few of them in fact.  A shadow dipped and waved in guttering candlelight.  The Necromancer was there just out of sight, building her forces.  With great care the Mystic inched forward, trying to pick out anything he could understand of her incantations.  Jimbob dropped to his knees and requested the spirits' assistance. He would need it. For just a moment he wondered what it would be like to enter the afterlife, to die.  Then he shrugged it off; no use in worrying about the inevitable, he thought.  If he could stop this plot, no price would be too high, not even his own demise.  He straightened up and took a step, revealing himself to the Necromancer. The Dark Elf and the human saw each other at the same instant, and for that instant, neither moved.  She broke the silence with a single word: "DIE!"</P> <P>    He had only thought he had faced challenges before, but this was on an entirely new level.  For every move he made, she made a countermove, and her latest undead thrall was doing a lot to distract him, and even doing some damage.  Jimbob fought for every bit of magic he could muster, and hurriedly warded off horrendous and ghastly spells. He drew on the spirit world's cold and disease, turning back some of the Necromancer's own nastiness upon her.  The rage and hatred she exuded was truly palpable in the mausoleum atmosphere, and he could not seem to gain any advantage. His power was dwindling  fast, though he tried to ignore smaller wounds as not to lose ground too fast.  He closed with her, swinging a hammer in hopes of stunning her long enough to regain control.  Her staff block knocked him back a few feet.  Then she cast a holding spell upon him and backed out of his way, sending in another undead as she did so.  He broke the holding spell just in time to shatter the skeleton pet, but he was bruised and dazed now.  She snarled her hatred and did yet more damage as he staggered toward the rear wall, then turned to face her. His success depended on keeping her off balance, but he had drained himself of power. In a desperate move, the human ran forward with his hammer and with the last of his reserves, warded himself once more. As his hammer came around, the Dark Elf was in the middle of casting. Her spell hit him the moment his hammer crushed her skull, throwing him backward to smash into the rear wall with such force that it was breached, with bricks raining down upon his unmoving form.</P>

[StormQueen]

<P>Chapter 17: Resolution</P> <P>    He was dimly aware that he was somewhere unfamiliar. Was he dead? He tried to turn and take stock of his surroundings but he could not change his vantage point. Very strange that a spirit could not move freely.  Or was he still alive? Had the Necromancer bound him somehow? Jimbob could hear clicking rattling noises, and he realized he could see a little out of one barely open eye.  Otherwise he could not move a muscle, not even to speak or turn his head.  All he could see from his facedown position was his outflung shield arm.  The rattling sound became louder and mixed with cackling as the undead moved into the newly opened tunnel. <EM>All is lost then, </EM>he despaired. He had failed. She and her horde would lay waste to Qeynos from within the castle itself.  He shuddered mentally to think what she must have planned for him.  But where was she?  Then he heard someone breaking more of the tomb wall. Enlarging the way into the tunnel, he decided.  Jimbob had given up all hope of his own survival.<EM>  But maybe if I can regain some control before she destroys me, I can do something to warn Qeynos.</EM></P> <P><EM>    </EM>More bricks clattered to the floor as the Mystic prepared himself to make the journey.  He regretted greatly that he wouldn't be able to thank Tyndall for being his friend, nor Tabaar for being his mentor.  As soon as he could speak, he would utter the incantation to sunder himself from his body.  That would buy just enough time to get a warning out to any nearby sensitive such as a shaman or enchanter.  It was a long shot, but he had run out of options.  Heavy footsteps approached. <EM>Too soon </EM>was his anguished thought.  <EM>Wait a minute, heavy steps?</EM>  "No!" came a familiar and welcome voice. Tyndall had broken in! But Jimbob was still in the grip of the arcane paralysis.  "Oh, no... no... little human, why did ye go without me?  Ye were the bravest man I ever knew. Why did ye have to try to prove it yet again?"  The Barbarian thought he was dead! Jimbob could not even twitch an eyelid to tell him otherwise.  Tyndall reached down and scooped up Jimbob's limp form and placed him upon an unoccupied bier.  "All of Qeynos will turn out to bury a hero." His friend's sorrow was tearing him apart inside, and he could do nothing about it as Tyndall carefully arranged him with shield and hammer crossed on his chest, and placed a white cloth over his face, and sat down beside him to grieve. </P> <P>    A tingling sensation began at the crown of his head as Jimbob listened to the Berserker try unsuccessfully to stifle sobs. He felt torn apart and a bit of a Peeping Tom for hearing this raw display of emotion.  The weird tingle spread downward to encompass his face, and he found he could move his tongue a bit.  He tried making a sound but it came out as a dry croak.  He managed to take a breath and tried again. "Tyndall...." he rasped. "WHO'S THERE?" shouted the Barbarian. He spun around, sword whistling as he searched for the new danger.  <EM>This will never do, </EM>thought the Mystic.  He tried again. "Tyndall, take this cloth off my face." The grave cloth was whipped away and Jimbob looked up into a sight he thought he would never see again in this world. The astounded Berserker stared at him for a long moment. "Don't Barbarians take a pulse?" Jimbob interjected.  Then he found himself smothered in a bear hug, courtesy of one overjoyed Barbarian. But then Tyndall set him back down and looked at him with a hesitant expression. "Wait a minute. Ye were thrown into that wall there with enough force to break through it. Ye should be dead. No one can survive that. Look at the bricks. I must be imagining that ye are alive."  The Mystic was gaining the use of his hands now, and he reached out and weakly grasped Tyndall's arm.   "I have the ability to ward damage to myself.  I had just done so when the witch's spell hurled me into the already broken wall. She is dead, isn't she?" For Jimbob had to consider the possibility that she might have somehow escaped. "Aye, she is, and how ye aren't is a mystery to me."</P> <P>    "What happened to all her pets?" Jimbob wondered aloud. "She had a bunch of them suspended, and..." Rattling noises reached them from the breached tunnel. Jimbob tried to sit up but his legs were still paralyzed. "Stay there, Jimbob. Without their handler, they should be easy to destroy. Ye are in no condition to fight right now. It's the least I can do..." Tyndall the Berserker grabbed his sword and forced his way through the narrow opening into the tunnel. The sounds of combat ensued, and Jimbob's healing instincts took over. He forced himself into an upright position, and tried to swing his numb legs over the side of the bier. He didn't have the strength to stand up yet, and as he collapsed he hit his head on the edge of the platform and everything went black.</P><p>Message Edited by StormQueen on <span class=date_text>10-30-2006</span> <span class=time_text>07:20 AM</span>

[DarrkElf]

Great writing!  :smileyvery-happy:

[StormQueen]

<P>Chapter 18: A Price Paid</P> <P>    He slowly became aware of where he was, and of his splitting headache. The Mystic groaned and forced himself to a sitting position.  The paralysis was gone, and he levered himself to his feet, wincing with pain and dizziness.  At the same time he noticed the complete lack of noise. The silence of the grave..."Tyndall!" he shouted. "TYNDALL!" Only mocking echoes answered. Where was he? With a pang of fear, Jimbob rushed through the breach in the wall and saw skeletons scattered everywhere along the tunnel.  Ahead loomed a dark mass; it resolved itself into a pile of skeletons as he drew near.  At the top was a skeleton impaled on the point of a half-buried sword. With strength born of desperation, the young human scrabbled and dug through the mounds of bones until he had exposed Tyndall's upper body. The Barbarian stared sightlessly at the ceiling.  "No! Tyndall, you can't be dead! Return!" The Mystic wove the complex spell that would bring a willing spirit back to the land of the living if it were possible. <EM>Tyndall! Return to your mortal form by the charted path</EM>, he mentally pleaded.  Jimbob reached out for his friend but could not find his soul along the ways the living could go. In a last-ditch effort, he entered a deep trance where he could better sense the spirit world. With only a tenuous grasp on life he drifted inward and found <EM>/A shimmering portal /  A figure trapped on its far side / A sense of finality / A regret and parting....</EM>the Mystic came back to himself and looked down on the body of the Berserker and screamed his rage, fury and grief to the uncaring walls, finally exhausting himself down to bitter tears.</P> <P>    Jimbob had no intention of going back to face anyone with the news. <EM>Better that they discover the scene and never know my shame, </EM>he decided.  Tyndall's sword still lay nearby. He hefted the massive weapon and set it hilt-down in a crack in the floor, then pulled up his chainmail tunic. If he fell on the sword just right, it would be over quickly enough. A painless death, now that he didn't deserve.  <EM>Don't do it, </EM>whispered a voice in his mind. He shook his head. <EM>Hearing things, </EM>he thought, and turned to the sword point again. <EM>Jimbob! Don't do it! </EM>The voice in his mind...was he going crazy? It sounded like Tyndall! He froze in place, wondering what form his growing insanity would take next. <EM>Ye're not insane, </EM>it asserted. <EM>Ye tried but it was too late. I am now your spirit guide for life as was my destiny. </EM>"I would do anything if you would just return to life," Jimbob begged. "Just name it."  <EM>I cannot do so at any cost.  Once a soul passes through, it cannot return.  This is my destiny. Yer destiny is to be the best Mystic ye can be.  I only ask one thing of ye. </EM>"Anything." <EM>Tell my father what happened. Don't leave anything out.</EM></P> <P><EM>    </EM>He dreaded the short jaunt to Graystone Yard; his mind was churning with scenarios of what Tabaar would do or say, none of them good.  He first stopped in the tavern and gulped down a mug of ale, hoping it would calm him somewhat.  With leaden legs he climbed the stairwell to Tabaar's apartment and tapped on the door. "It's open," came the dreaded call.  The young human almost bolted then and there, but duty and his promise to Tyndall gave him the impetus to push open the door and walk in.  "Well, hello there, young Mystic. I suppose Tyndall went over to take his exam for the guard..." Tabaar stopped as he noticed Jimbob's stricken look.  "What? Did he fail? Did he get hurt?" Jimbob's face was a mask of misery as he shook his head. It took every ounce of willpower he had to open his mouth and speak the words, "Um, no, Tabaar, I'm so sorry...your son is dead."</P> <P>    Had Tabaar flown into a towering rage, or simply hauled off and hit him, that Jimbob would have endured and expected. But the Barbarian seemed to age decades then and there. "How... how did it happen?" he croaked.  Then, to the young human's shock, Tabaar grabbed him by the shirt front and hoisted him in the air. "How? How could ye let that happen?" he yelled as tears ran down his face.  For a moment he seemed about to use his fist.  Then he dropped the younger Mystic and collapsed in a chair. "Oh, Tyndall, Tyndall, my son, why couldn't it have been me?" His eyes lit on Jimbob. "Why couldn't it have been ye?" "It very nearly was, Tabaar. I wish it had been." The big man pointed to a chair. "Sit down and don't even think about getting up until ye have told me everything to my satisfaction."</P> <P>    Tabaar listened intently as Jimbob related the day's events. "Ye mean to tell me ye two thwarted a takeover plot?" he interjected. "By chance and by luck, yes." "Why didn't ye return for help?" "By the time we found out what was going on, there was no time to waste. We barely made it there as it is." He related further his trance and supernatural entry into the mausoleum, and the costly defeat of the Necromancer. "If I had hit her a second sooner, she wouldn't have paralyzed me.  And your son would still be alive." Tabaar slammed down a fist. "Why couldn't ye save him?" the Barbarian demanded. "Tyndall found me lying halfway through the broken wall; he thought the impact had killed me.  I couldnt move or tell him otherwise. By the time I did regain use of my voice, the undead army started moving up the tunnel. He took off to fight them; he told me to stay put.  But there were so many... I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn't yet support me , and I fell and knocked myself out.  When I came to, it was too late, though I tried." Tabaar looked at him with impossibly old eyes. "Ye know what I regret most?" he lamented. "I had so many things I wanted to say, things I never seemed to have time to tell him." He gave Jimbob a look of utter despair. "And now I never will."</P> <P>    <EM>What should I do? </EM>wondered Jimbob. <EM>Help me figure out the right thing to say to your father, </EM>he entreated. He felt himself enter the shaman's trance and the world seemed to fall away. <EM>I would speak through ye with yer permission so my father will be comforted, </EM>came the thought. <EM>Granted, </EM>Jimbob indicated.  He felt himself recede into his mind a bit as Tyndall's spirit took hold of his voice. "I am the spirit guide to Jimbob Stormwalker. I promise to help, guide, assist and support throughout his life. And I promise that yer intentions are known... and appreciated. Never did I doubt you, father." Tabaar jumped out of his chair and ran forward to where Jimbob sat, and stared into the young Mystic's glazed eyes, astounded to hear. "Oh, son...I know ye can't come back to life but...I am so grateful that ye are his guide, and that I had the chance to tell ye goodbye."</P> <P>    </P><p>Message Edited by StormQueen on <span class=date_text>12-17-2006</span> <span class=time_text>08:51 PM</span>

[StormQueen]

<P>Chapter 19: Restitution</P> <P> </P> <P>    Tabaar paced back and forth in the small room, trying to grasp the implications of what Tyndall's spirit had just told him. He abruptly turned to face Jimbob's seated form.  "If this is true, we faced a lot more than a mere battle, and such fate as to make mere death appear a mercy. Just imagining people's friends and family turned into host bodies, souls stripped and drained...." Tabaar swallowed hard to fight down his rising gorge.  "Aye. The freed spirits have experienced it firsthand. One Kerra soul had been her assistant in life, but the Necromancer made his body a host for a housecat spirit, for her twisted amusement."  "It's best that no one else ever hears about this.  I cannot imagine the shock to people's psyches if they knew how very vulnerable they are, and how close they came to finding out." "That brings up a problem. The departed wish to make some sort of restitution to the young human." Tabaar resumed his pacing. "As I said, it cannot be public knowledge." "I cannot stay much longer, Father, or he won't be able to return from the trance." The Barbarian Mystic sighed. "Aye, true. But what can we do for him? He turned tragedy into an opportunity that most bereaved persons never get. I owe him a debt of gratitude." "Look in the drawstring bag he wears around his neck. There is a wolf coin in there."</P> <P>    Tabaar held the wolf bone coin up to the firelight. It truly was the one he had given to Jimbob's grandfather so many years before. "He won't be alone again; I will release the wolfspirit as a companion and assistant for him. This coin I gave Jaymiss as a debt payment for... stopping a very young Mystic from doing a very stupid thing."  The old shaman chanted a short phrase, then tossed the coin into the fireplace, where it disappeared with a blue flash.  An unmistakeably wolfish spirit flitted about the room, circling Jimbob's chair.  "I must take my leave now, Father," Tyndall's spirit enjoined.  "But we departed have a gift for the small human, as well. Don't be alarmed at what ye see happen next. I will hold him back until the process is complete. Farewell, Father, until ye join me in the Endless Halls of Justice." "Son?" Tabaar queried. But the Berserker's presence was gone, leaving only the still-entranced human Mystic.  Then Tabaar saw it happen.</P> <P>    Many people would have panicked. Maybe Tabaar would have; later, he wasn't so sure he didn't. But his shock and amazement riveted him in place as the young human's somnolent form twitched and bulged as if mice were under his skin. No. Make that rats.  And then the sickening sound of bones cracking brought the Barbarian man as close to screaming as he had ever been in his adult life. An otherworldly aura covered the still-writhing body as Tabaar stifled the incipient scream down to a gasp and staggered back against a wall. As the wolf spirit howled, the aura faded to reveal a changed Jimbob.  The small human was small no more.</P> <P>    Slowly, so slowly, he became aware that he existed. Then awareness extended to where he realized he was still in the physical world.  Alive? he wondered. Ah, yes, now he remembered.  Tyndall had channeled through him to communicate with Tabaar at his request.  Now to regain the use of his body...Jimbob broke through the veils between him and full consciousness and blinked away the blurriness to find the worried face of the Barbarian Mystic hovering over him.  "Ah, there ye are! Welcome back, young human." "Um, how long..." "It's been about half a day since he relinquished control, Jimbob. Ye were out a long time; I wasn't sure ye would make it back." A ghostly shape darted back and forth, startling him. "What's that?" "That, young human, is my gift to ye.  That coin ye carried held the spirit of a wolf, and I released it to be your companion."  Jimbob tried to sit up straighter and get a better look at it, but that took a couple of tries. He felt so weak and awkward. "Easy there," instructed the Barbarian. "Ye've been through a lot. Rest a few minutes."</P> <P>    At last Jimbob got up the courage to ask what  had transpired during his absence. "Um, Tabaar, what did Tyndall say about...well, about what happened?" "Young human, ye were NOT to blame for his death. Nay, far from blaming ye, he and the other departed involved in this do say ye helped to save Qeynos from a truly awful fate. Since we cannot reveal the true details to the public, and he said ye want no recognition on yer part, we came up with a solution. We'll let the authorities find the battle scene and draw their own conclusions." Jimbob shivered to think of what would have become of her victims, enslaved to her will, bodies hosted by who knows what foul spirits. "Did ye know he left ye a gift, too?" "He did?" Jimbob looked around for what it might be.  "Not an object. He did something for ye, though. Go look in the mirror."</P> <P>    The young man got unsteadily to his feet and stumbled over to the wall mirror. He wondered what was different about him that would manifest itself in his reflection. Then he caught sight of a scarecrow in tattered clothing. A wild-eyed, tall scarecrow. His hands flew to his face as it dawned on him that the haggard figure in the mirror was himself. This had to be a dream! Jimbob whirled and stared at Tabaar for a long moment. He didn't have to crane his neck nearly as much to look up at the older Mystic! The Barbarian smiled to see the human's confusion and reaction to the transformation.  "This has to be a dream! It isn't possible!" "No dream, Jimbob. Tyndall knew yer frustration with being short.  Ye wanted to be taller. Yer dream has come true."</P>

[Koilla]

<P>keep it coming, keep it coming =)</P> <P> </P> <P>i want more of this stuff... awesome writing, thanks</P>

[StormQueen]

<DIV>Chapter 20: The Past Is Only Ashes<BR><BR>    For a couple of weeks, Jimbob worked hard at tailoring, trying to raise enough money for an extended trip. He intended to gain some rank with the Temple, and he also had been doing a lot of thinking about the family he hadn't seen in several years. How were they? Would his father even acknowledge his existence?  Being that the Thundering Steppes were quite a distance overland, he had booked passage on a ship bound for those waters. Today was the day, and he took a last look around his room, ran his hands over his beard, sighed and picked up his bags. He carried several empty ones as well as the two containing his spare gear and supplies.  One last stop at the tavern to have an ale and settle his bill, then he would be on his way.<BR><BR>    Tabaar saw him off at the Qeynos Harbor dock. "Young human, stay safe, be wise, and may the wind be at yer back." The Barbarian gave him a thump on the shoulder and gestured to the waiting craft. "Go, go; ye'll miss yer boat." "Thank you, Tabaar, for everything," Jimbob replied. As he climbed the gangplank he glanced back. The older Mystic wore a wistful expression. The young human realized that he and his mentor might never see each other again, and that was a sobering thought.<BR><BR>    The voyage was uneventful although the seas were choppy this late in the season.  He disembarked onto the dock and began walking toward the Dead River.  Merchants hawked their wares, offering all kinds of tools, implements, and nostrums.  Jimbob decided to pick up a few items as gifts.  The selection wasn't that great, but to his family a new harness or sickle was worth a fortune.  He set off again, purchases stashed in a pack.  Avoiding the river bottom was important; undead had been known to attack unwary travellers.  So the young Mystic climbed a steep hillside that led to a narrow pathway along the cliff face, which he traversed cautiously. Soon he arrived at the gated bridge where he was able to climb over the low wall and onto the road leading to Thundermist Village. <BR><BR>    The place didn't look much different from when he had been there last, but then it had always been a sleepy little town. Jimbob wandered around and noticed many curious eyes on him.  None seemed to show any recognition, not even at the guard posts.  For now, he decided not to enlighten them.  Next he sauntered into the little watering hole and ordered an ale. It wasn't long before he got some information.  A tavern was a good place to catch up on  current events, and some were being discussed at a nearby table. Without turning too much, he eyed two men discussing a rash of recent highway robbery. "Aye, they're getting more brazen all the time. Victims turning up dead more often than not, and most of the rest disappear."  "We gotta do something, or else this place will become a ghost town." Jimbob turned and left, making a mental note to watch his back. <BR><BR>    A while later he set out for his family's farm, squinting at the afternoon sun.  About a mile on a freshly burnt wagon missing its wheels lent mute testimony to the villagers' caution. The Mystic knelt down and examined the wreckage carefully, but it had been a traveler's conveyance, not a farm wagon.  He sighed in relief, then felt a bit guilty that he was relieved; obviously someone had been attacked, robbed, perhaps hurt or killed. He hurried to reach the farm before sunset, glancing back often to check for stalkers. His spirit wolf coursed back and forth across the rutted wagon trail, occasionally stopping to scent the air.  At last he saw the farmhouse over a rise.  Jimbob drew a deep breath. Maybe pretending to be a stranger would be best at first. The chainmail helmet obscured part of his face anyhow; it was worth a try.  He approached the door, prepared to call out his presence, but a farm dog announced his arrival first. The Mystic hurriedly dismissed his wolf, lest it agitate the animals.  The door was flung open and Jimbob opened his mouth to speak. Then he frowned in confusion.  The human at the door was a total stranger.<BR><BR>    Maybe the man was a guest or a neighbor, but then why would he answer the door? Only one way to find out. "I seek shelter for the night," Jimbob declared.  The man looked him over, peered out into the farmyard, and apparently satisfied himself that the traveler was genuine.  "Come on in," replied the man. "I'll introduce you to my wife and kids. By the way, I'm Yochnan.  And you are?" "Name's Jimbob."  Yochnan led the way into the kitchen where a flushed-faced woman stirred a pot on the familiar old blackened iron stove.  "Go ahead, set your backpack and bags there," Yochnan indicated a corner.  Two children dashed into the room, stared at the visitor a moment, then ran out laughing.  Jimbob's sense of unreality grew as he watched from somewhere outside himself it seemed. This couldn't be right.  He managed to go through all the pleasantries and social interactions that courtesy demanded, but his mind was in a turmoil. What was going on here?<BR><BR>    After a big meal, Jimbob decided to do some sleuthing. He broached the subject in the best way he knew. "Yochnan, have you lived here long?" "Nay, we homesteaded here about two years now." "Homesteaded? You didn't buy the place?" The man gave him a pointed look but continued. "Nay, it was abandoned.  We got the assessor from Thundermist to come out and declare, and to draw up legal papersthat stated it was free for the taking. I'm sure you have a good reason for asking; let's hear it."  "I'm the oldest son of the family that used to live here," Jimbob replied. "Now I don't know what's become of them." Yochnan gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, you can check with the authorities in Thundermist. They might have moved to get a fresh start, and left some word there for you."  Jimbob felt it highly unlikely, but he nodded and agreed.<BR><BR>    In the morning he had breakfast with the family, left a gold coin as payment ("Ah, too much," cried Yochnan), and retraced his steps toward the village. About halfway there he spied an object sticking out of the tall grass down in a draw by the road, something not visible from the other direction.  He climbed down and parted the weeds to get a better look. A wagon had been overturned and burned here, and a few scattered human bone fragments pointed the way to murder during a robbery.  The weathered evidence looked to be have been there for several seasons, and at first didnt yield any clues as to its origin, and Jimbob started to walk away.  As he did so, his boot scuffed the ground and a slightly shiny object caught his eye. A brass buckle!  He knelt and started wiping the dirt away, and forever after wished he hadn't done that, hadn't seen the wagon, had passed by in perpetual ignorance.<BR><BR>    For the belt buckle was his father's.</DIV>

[dano]

<P>WOW :smileysurprised:</P> <P> </P> <P>Absolutly fantastic, Please... more :smileyhappy:</P> <P> </P> <P>PS: I am really enjoying your story :smileyhappy:</P>

[StormQueen]

<P>Chapter 21:  Desolation and Solace</P> <P>    He sat in a small room in Thundermist Village, staring at the urn which contained his father's remains.  No one dared bother the Mystic now, for when someone had done so earlier, his rage and frustration had boiled over onto the new target, much to his later regret.  No sign of his mother or siblings had been in the burned wagon, and although this was good news in a way, it was also driving Jimbob to distraction.  What could have become of them?  One thing that disturbed him was that they had not been missed up until this time.  He had always assumed that his mother was from one of the farms in the area, but all his inquiries had been for naught.  Something wasn't right.  Weather and time had erased most evidence at the site where his father had died, but Jimbob had his suspicions that the rest of his family had been abducted. Tales abounded of people being kidnapped and sold to orcs as forced labor, and certainly the orcs wouldn't turn down slavers who showed up on their borders with fresh hauls of victims.</P> <P>    He decided to retrace his steps to the former family farm, in hopes of uncovering some little clues that might point to some answers.  When he arrived, Yochnan met him at the door and expressed his sympathy. "Jimbob! We heard about your father; I'm so sorry, if there's anything I can do, let me know." "Actually, there might be. Was there a wagon at the farm when you arrived?" "No, I can't say there was. But then there were a lot of things missing; of course we thought the place was abandoned.  No clothing, no food, and most kitchen utensils and small farm implements were gone.  Even the beds were stripped." Jimbob frowned. "Could it have been thieves?"  "Well, normally I'd say yes, but everything was tidy and clean except for the film of dust.  Burglars make a mess when they ransack a place. I know; we were robbed once in our old location."</P> <P>    After lunch (Yochnan insisted he stay) they were just walking to the door when one of the children ran by with an object in her hands. "What've you got there? Drop it!" Yochnan commanded.  Startled, the child did so.  He bent and scooped up the erstwhile toy.  "Aha, that loose knob from the bannister. Kids just gotta mess with stuff that's not nailed down." Jimbob smiled in spite of himself. "My brother and I used to put secret messages in that thing; I can't tell you the number of times that Mother..." he broke off with an anguished look. "I miss them so much, Yochnan." The farmer set the knob down and turned to speak, but the knob rolled off the table onto the floor again. He bit off a curse and retrieved it. As he went to set it on the table a tightly folded piece of paper dropped out. "Seems one of your messages was still in there." Yochnan unfolded it and began to read. "Or maybe the kids put a new one in there... wait a minute." The farmer visibly paled and handed the scrap to Jimbob. "Here, you better read this."</P> <P>    <EM>To whoever finds this: please find a way to get it to my son Jimbob Stormwalker. Leave word in Thundermist Village.  To my beloved eldest son:  I had no choice but to take drastic action. Your father's behavior had become more and more erratic as of late; he never let us leave the farm anymore.  I was in fear for our safety, to be honest.  The children were afraid of him and his rages.  So as soon as he left for Thundermist this time I packed the other wagon and we are leaving now, for good.  We will buy passage out of this area, maybe bound for Qeynos.  We'll have to assume new identities in case he tries to track us down.  I don't hold out a lot of hope of you ever getting this message, but at least I know that you would find us if you could.  Love, Mother.</EM></P> <P>    Jimbob heard a buzzing in his ears, and he had to quickly sit down.  They might be all right! Mother, brother, sister....he buried his face in his hands as he fought for composure.  Then he looked up at the farmer.  "I can't thank you enough, Yochnan." "I know a way you can." "Name it." "Find your family, and if you ever get back this way be sure to let us know." "Of course," replied the Mystic.  He stood up and took a deep breath.  Now he really did have a sense of purpose, a goal to strive for.  For the first time in a very long time, he had regained that commodity he had thought lost forever.</P> <P>   Hope.</P>

[dano]

<DIV>A very nice addition. Well done.:smileywink:</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>I would like to see where this is heading :smileyhappy:</DIV>

[Koilla]

<DIV>yo, didnt like Jimbobs father very much....</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>hopefully he finds his relatives in a safe place in qeynos 0)</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>go for it Jimbob!!</DIV>

[StormQueen]

<DIV> Chapter 22: Winds of Change<BR><BR>    It seemed a good spot for honing his skills; the bluff overlooked Windstalker Village and the view was excellent in all directions.  He edged closer to a wandering zombie which had spawned out of the cursed ruins of Fangbreaker Keep.  The undead creature spotted him and shambled over to attack the intruder, but he quickly cut it down and went looking for another one. He wasn't disappointed; Celestial Watch had made it clear that these abominations were abundant and were priority to be culled.  Jimbob was very careful not to let down his guard; where there was one there were always more and they were very quick to attract a crowd. After a while he backed off a bit and took a quick break, but kept a wary eye on the surroundings as he downed some bread and cheese.  Then a movement caught his eye. The Mystic quickly strode to the highest spot on the hill to get a better look.  What he saw was a ghostly figure making its way across the valley to the west.  Holly Windstalker?<BR><BR>    <SPAN><EM>This rock outcrop looks promising</EM></SPAN>, thought Kebia.  A bit of ore to trade for supplies would be a nice thing. She had run a bit short lately; prices had been high for necessary goods and low for gnoll pelts and teeth. She opened the heavy work pack and found the pick, shovel and bucket, and dropped them to the ground. Then she carefully dismounted and led the horse to a patch of grass and made sure it was involved in grazing before she came back to the task at hand.  <SPAN>Now to see what we have here... </SPAN>she hefted the pick and began chipping away at the matrix.  A bit of darker material was beginning to show, and so she verified it by tasting a tiny fragment. Yes, this might lead to some valuable ore.  A flicker of shadow on the rock face caught her eye. She turned around to see a silhouette on a hill to the west, partially blocking the sun.  It was a person, probably a villager, human in all probability. Kebia turned back to the rock face, then glanced back and did a double take. Where the person had been, there was now the  unmistakeable shape of a bear shambling about.<BR><BR>    Jimbob took bear form almost instinctively; he had heard of the ghost's search for revenge against poachers, and that the ghost considered all people to be enemies of her beloved animals.  This was all the more sad because in life Holly Windstalker had been a kind person, and had ultimately died of an illness contracted from a family she had been helping. But something had gone terribly wrong after her burial. No doubt someone practicing the dark arts had tried to control her soul, but had either miscalculated or themselves suffered an untimely demise near her grave. In any case, the ghost wandered, searching for revenge. It stayed out of the village and no one knew why. But there was no help for those caught out when Holly found them.  So the Mystic took no chances as he made his way down the sloping path.  Below was the river and lake front, and to his surprise he could see a small child playing along the bank.  He was about to shift back to human form when a dark shape moved in the water toward the little girl.<BR><BR>   Clink... she loosened the piece of ore and drew it out of the seam. Blackened iron. Excellent. Nice and heavy chunk. She would come back tomorrow and work on this some more, but it was late and time to take shelter in the village.  Kebia whistled for the horse, stowed her gear and the ore, then mounted up and set out toward the hamlet.  The blackened iron ore was very handy for making high quality tools, weapons and armor. No doubt there was a blacksmith shop in Windstalker that would offer a good price.  The evening sun was low in the western sky, and she wondered what she had seen before. Then it came to her. A shaman! They could become animals, at least to look like they were. Maybe.  But this had looked like it was human size, and she hadn't heard of any human shamans. Then she heard a bear's roar down the path, and she spurred her horse forward in that direction.<BR><BR>  He didn't have a moment to spare; he acted on instinct as he rushed forward, grabbed the child's dress between his teeth, and half carried, half dragged the child backward away from the water and the attacking alligator.  He frantically backpedaled as the reptile flung itself up on the bank where the little girl had been a moment before.  It was surprisingly fast on land and it snapped as it got ever closer; the Jimbob-bear growled furiously and then just as the race looked lost, the alligator lost momentum.  It was too far from the water for its comfort, and it abruptly turned and slithered back down the bank.  Then the child chose that moment to scream.  He heard voices, too, and turned to look, dropping the child in the process. Several villagers were pointing and shouting at him and they were armed.  Jimbob stumbled in the mud and tried to rise to his feet to drop the bear form, but a well-thrown rock dazed him and interrupted him. <BR><BR>   The young Paladin was shocked by what she saw, but hadn't made it this far by being slow to comprehend changing circumstances.  The bear had to be a shaman; it had been dragging a child away from an alligator attack.  A wild bear would not be showing this sort of behavior.  Now the villagers had arrived, perhaps drawn by the noise or looking for the child.  Then one threw a rock and hit the bear as it whirled about, stunning it.  Someone rushed up and snatched the child away and then the situation got a lot worse.  Now the villagers pressed home the attack with the little girl safely out of the way, and the bear didn't stand a chance. Kebia was horrified that they were about to kill a person without knowing it, but she would never get there in time. Still, she let out a wild scream and kicked the horse frantically into a fast gallop.<BR><BR>    <SPAN><EM>No, you don't understand</EM></SPAN>, Jimbob wanted to say. But all he could produce was a series of growls as the people closed in to attack.  He dodged, then again tried to drop the bear form. He stood up tall and began the mental chant that would reveal him as human. However, what the villagers saw was a roaring bear on its hind legs, and they were sure it had been trying to eat the little girl.  The village blacksmith rushed forth with a spear in his hands and aimed for the bear, and threw the weapon. Jimbob at that moment had turned and tried to raise his hands higher in a negating gesture, and the spear found the spot where his chain tunic gapped slightly. At the same moment his bear form finally did drop, the weapon hit him in the belly.  He fell back in icy shock as the blade tore through vital organs.  How... what... he tried to draw the spear out but he couldn't make his hands work, and it was getting hard to see. One moment of clarity washed over him with the thought, <SPAN><EM>I'm dying</EM></SPAN>, then he lost all comprehension as his body began to shut down.<BR><BR>    "Aaaaagh! NO!" Kebia shrieked as she slammed to a stop at the scene. She leaped off the horse and ran forward, then turned to the villagers. "You've killed a shaman! How could you?" They were in shock. The bear had become a human somehow, and now he was lying there in a pool of blood. The Paladin ran to the body and laid a hand on the shaman's exposed throat. He was still alive but barely and fading fast. Training is one thing, but the instinct a Paladin brings to a situation is vital, and Kebia reacted the only way she could. There was a crack and a flash of light, and she slumped exhausted by the badly injured man.  Then she gathered what little strength was left and carefully drew out the spear, sending healing as she did.  Now it would be up to him to recover.  The villagers were watching her with great interest, and she turned to them. "You will do whatever it takes to help him recover. I will be here until he does. Did you know he was saving the child from an alligator? His reward will NOT be death if I can help it."  They gaped at her, still in shock.  For what they saw was not a knight healer, not a Paladin, but a Dwarf woman.<BR><BR>    From somewhere in the back of his mind Jimbob found a tunnel of sorts. Where did it lead? He followed it, twisting and turning.  Was there a way out? The walls sparkled with gems in one branch, and were dark in another. All logic demanded he go down the gem tunnel. Then he looked again.  He was suspicious of where it led.  For some compelling reason he chose the dark tunnel. Never afterward would he remember this, but it was the right way although it came with its own price.  The tunnel opened out onto a grassy field with people milling about, and strangely enough, a spear on the ground by him. Jimbob saw that the people were watching a Dwarf woman who knelt by him. Was this a dream or reality? He tried to move and a wave of  pain washed over him. Someone removed his helmet and offered him some water. He drank a sip or two while the Dwarf watched him. Who was she?  "Ah, it seems you've come back to the land of the living," she said.<BR><BR>    It was decided that the shaman would convalesce in the village inn; Kebia paid with the chunk of blackened iron for his care.  Then she entered his room to see how he was faring. "Hello there, shaman," she greeted him. The man looked at her intensely for a few seconds, then nodded slightly. "Do you have a name?" he asked. "Aye, I am Kebia. And yourself?"  "Jimbob Stormwalker.  I'm a Mystic. You seem to be a healer yourself..." "Only in a limited way. I'm a Paladin." She looked over the young male human as she spoke, taking note of his appearance. He was a good size for a human, tall and well-built.  He wore a neatly trimmed full beard, and Kebia approved of that, being a Dwarf.  She found males who chose to shave off their beards to be ... well... unusual.  But the most compelling thing about him was his sea green eyes.  She abruptly realized she had been staring. "Anyway, you need to do some recovering. I will leave you alone now." "Wait." She turned at the doorway. "What did you do there? I'm sure I was fatally injured." Kebia held out her hands. "A Paladin can draw off their own strength in a time of need for another. I laid my hands on you for this purpose." Jimbob nodded. "Thank you for my life."</DIV>

[dano]

Good addition :smileyhappy: Keep it up as I would love to see where this is going :smileywink:

[StormQueen]

<P>Chapter 23 Causally Connectible</P> <P>    She made a point of stopping by his room each day on her way out to prospect, and again upon her return in the evening. Jimbob was recuperating nicely; he was already up and about with healer supervision.  A couple of the healer acolytes had been making quite a fuss over him lately; Kebia narrowed her eyes at the recollection but had of course said nothing.  As for herself, she knew that her initial attraction to the Mystic had to have been born of her impromptu rescue effort.  She was no adolescent to be developing a crush on someone she had no business being attracted to, so as she knocked on the door she was careful to maintain a neutral expression.</P> <P>    "It's open," the young shaman called out. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. For a few moments the Dwarf woman perused the Human man. He was sitting in a chair near the window, and looked a lot better this morning. "You seem to be doing all right. Is the healing process going well?"  In answer, Jimbob tugged up the corner of his shirt and exposed the angry red scar.  "It itches a LOT!" he retorted. "But yes, it's mending."  He unsteadily made his way over to the bed and sat down. "Have a seat; I want to talk to you." Kebia was intrigued. What would he want to say to a Dwarf?  She climbed into the chair he had recently vacated.  The human nervously ran his hands over his face.  "First of all, I can't thank  you enough for saving my life.  It was a miracle you showed up when you did.  And I sure don't see many Dwarf women out in the countryside.  Did Tabaar send you here to follow me?" Kebia looked at him in confusion. "Tabaar? I don't understand." Jimbob waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I guess not; never mind then." </P> <P>    Now the Paladin began to have doubts.  Was this man a fugitive from justice? Why else would he think that the Elder Mystic of Graystone Yard had put her on his trail?  Could he be after the forbidden defiled shamanic arts they practiced in Freeport?  She hopped off the chair and went to the door, making sure it was locked. Then she turned and drew her sword, holding it point down.  "I think you'd better tell me what this is all about, human.  Are you in some sort of trouble with Qeynos?" "No, no, in fact I was on my way back to the city; I was just here to see if I could find...." he broke off and sighed. "I guess I'd better start at the beginning." Kebia nodded. "That would be a good idea."   "I was wanting to tell  you this anyway; I need for someone to listen."</P> <P>    "I was born and raised on a farm in the Steppes.  Several years ago my family was in Thundermist Village to buy supplies when a Centaur attacked the guard post. I knew one of the guards, Trethor, and I .... I had to watch him die when the Centaur kicked him.  The Dwarf guard was nearly overcome but a Barbarian man ran out of the general store, defeated the Centaur, then turned to the dead body of the human guard.  He chanted something I had never  heard the likes of... then I saw the body twitch and then Trethor climbed to his feet, somehow alive... I knew I had to find out how to be like that.  I had to be a shaman. But my father had seen and he told me the most outrageous lies to claim that these people had set me up as unwitting entertainment. He said they were mind controllers and quick change artists in a travelling show. Of course I believed him; he had never lied before.  I was devastated and mortified.  I felt like a fool and was slinking along a barn when I heard him arguing with the Barbarian, who indeed was Tabaar the Elder Mystic.  It turned out that my father blamed him for his brother's death, an uncle I never knew, and had tried to keep me from Tabaar's influence and from wanting to leave home by telling me that fabrication."</P> <P>    "Tabaar would not interfere and he stood back as my father hurled abuse his way and threats mine.  But then  he agreed to let me meet with Tabaar privately, no doubt hoping his story would enrage and alienate me from the shaman.  So over a couple of ales, Tabaar recounted the events that lead to my uncle's death and my father's renouncement of service to Qeynos.  He had moved out to the Steppes and married a farm girl and tried to forget. But Tabaar had ruined everything yet again according to my father, who forced me to choose either the farm or the future. I chose not to go back to the farm. My father's pain and rage were so great, and so controlled his thinking, that he disowned me then and there."</P> <P>    Kebia listened with great interest as the young human told of his subsequent travel to Qeynos, training on the Colony island, and friendship with Tabaar's son Tyndall, a Berserker by trade.  Then her interest turned to sympathy as  he related the events leading up to Tyndall's death.  "I couldn't save my friend.  I wanted to die; he wouldn't let me." "Let you? How would a dead man prevent that?" Kebia broke in.  "He spoke in my mind. He said he was my guide for life, and that was his destiny. But I had to tell his father, and let me tell you, I would rather eat broken glass than tell a Barbarian bad news, especially this news.  I still remember how he aged years when I told him his son was dead.  I thought he was going to lose his mind, or just quit living.  So in desperation I begged Tyndall to speak through me. And he did. The gifts he gave that day were priceless, but none compared to father and son being able to say goodbye and all the other things they said.  At least that is what Tabaar tells me. I was out a very long time, almost didn't regain my body in time.  But when I did, things had changed."</P> <P>  "Anyway, we buried Tyndall, and I decided to set out and try to make amends with my father.  I hadn't seen my family in several years and my attempts to contact them by mail went nowhere.  I got out to the Steppes and found the farmhouse occupied by strangers.  I went to the village but  couldn't find any answers there, so I went back to the farmhouse and asked the family there what they knew. It wasn't much but as I was leaving the kids pulled off the loose bannister knob that my brother and I used to use as a secret message hiding place.  Inside it was a message from my mother for me, as she knew I would eventually find it.  She was on the run from my father, who was apparently going insane, and she was headed toward Qeynos.   So I set out and found not her but the burned remains of my father's wagon, and his belt buckle among the weeds." Jimbob turned and opened a rucksack which sat on a nearby shelf.  He removed a small  urn from it. "I collected what remains I could find and put them in this," he said.  "I will give him a decent burial in Qeynos."</P>

[StormQueen]

<P>Chapter 24: Turnabout</P> <P>    The afternoon sunshine glinted off the lake, bathing the village in a tranquil light.  Jimbob stood at the dock railing overlooking the water, wondering if he would stay a while longer or get ready to begin his travels again.  Just then he caught sight of one of the healer acolytes leaving a house across the way; he hurried over to intercept her.  "Nethona, nice to see you." "And you as well, Jimbob.  What can I do for you?"  The young man was struck by her attractiveness and demeanor. Emboldened, he replied, "Um, I was wondering, do you have plans for dinner?"  "Why, no, are you buying?" She coyly smiled. "I'd be happy to join you." "Well how does a nice dinner at the tavern sound?"  "That sounds great. I'll be right back." Jimbob waited by her door a few minutes, then she reappeared wearing a different dress.  <EM>Why do women have to change clothes every few minutes? </EM>Jimbob wondered.  "Let's go," she said, and put her hand in his. They walked thus across the street to the tavern restaurant, and not a few people saw them. Many eyes crinkled with amusement. But one pair held only pain.</P> <P>    Kebia turned and tried to regain some control. The Mystic was on a date?  Well, what did she expect?  He was a young man, and there were several eligible young women about. HUMAN women.  She felt the simmering of incipient jealousy, and tried hard to stifle it.  What call, what right did she even now have over Jimbob? None she could honestly admit. He might owe her his life but not his soul.  His future and happiness were his, not a commodity for her to dole out.  The Dwarf woman was perfectly aware that not only race and culture but personalities would clash. Both were headstrong and stubborn. And it was best not to think of such things anyway. Tomorrow she would take her leave of this place.</P> <P>    Jimbob was  thorougly confused.  He was having a nice meal, with a pretty girl, who showed all the signs of being interested in him. She listened to him talk about his journey, and told him of her own experiences. He should be having a great time, he figured, but something was amiss.  Although the young Mystic told Nethona of places he'd seen, he didn't really open up to her.  So the conversation remained on a casual level, and dinner though good was only something to be hurried through.  He was a gentleman; he did walk Nethona back to her door.  Then he bowed gravely, wished her a good night, and strode away toward the inn.</P> <P>    The Paladin spent a mostly sleepless night.  As dawn streaked the eastern sky, she was already out repacking and saddling her horse.  Time to head to a different place; she had heard of some good strikes being made in the Dead River region of Thundering Steppes.  Kebia checked her room one more time, then went to the front desk to settle her bill.  "Let's see, that will be three gold pieces," said the clerk.  "Heading out then?" "Aye, probably to the Steppes.  Good pickings I hear." "Safe travels," the man replied.  She sighed, trudged out the door, and took a last look around.  As she rode away up the southward trail, her thoughts turned unbidden to the Mystic.  She fought back tears and gritted her teeth. So be it.  One day, maybe, Kebia might find herself back in Graystone Yard, or out in one of the Irontoe forts, and meet some nice Dwarf man with whom she could raise a family. Maybe. </P> <P>    A short time later Jimbob awoke refreshed but with a vague sense of foreboding.  He still didn't understand his own inability to enjoy a nice night out with an attractive woman. Very strange.  He pondered this for a little bit. Maybe someone would have some ideas. But who? Yes! That Dwarf Paladin seemed to hold a good intelligent conversation and might have some good advice. She ought to be stopping by any time; he had missed her visit last night.  He would bring up the subject right away.  But she was usually here by this time.  He decided to take a short walk while he waited. On his way out he saw the desk clerk.  "Can you leave a message for me?" he asked. "Certainly, sir; for whom?" "Can you tell Kebia that I'm out for a few minutes?" The man frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, but she has left." "Left?" Jimbob was taken aback. "Yes, she checked out a few minutes ago." "Where did she go?" "She said something about the Steppes, about mining there." The Mystic was nonplussed. Why would she leave without saying goodbye?  He felt a cold feeling in the pit of  his stomach. What if she found peril? He shook his head. <EM>Women are so strange</EM>, he thought.  But he couldn't shake the feeling of something being very wrong. </P> <P>    She rode on, oblivious to the beauty of the surrounding landscape.  All Kebia cared to see was back there in Windstalker Village. <EM>No more of that, </EM>she mentally berated herself.  Time to leave self-pity and regrets in the tailings heap where they belonged.  Her attention wasn't on the right subject, though.  Her horse started acting very jittery, sidestepping quite a bit, and making her have to exercise a lot more control than she normally did. By the time the Paladin realized that there was something truly amiss, it was already too late.  She looked up and gasped in fear as a cold blast of air announced the arrival of Holly Windstalker.  The ghost had executed the perfect ambush; there was nowhere to go.  Kebia tried to defend herself and get back toward the village, but the vengeful spirit was powerful and apparently immune to physical attacks. The battering she was taking was telling on her ability to ward off the blows, and she had not the time or power to heal her increasingly numerous wounds.  The Paladin at last was so weakened she fell off her horse and landed on her back in the dirt.  "Now die!" shrilled the ghost, and hit her a blow which to the Dwarf felt like she was being turned inside out.  Then there was nothing at all.</P> <P>    A momentary vision flickered in Jimbob's mind, one of terrible danger and mindless destruction.  Where was that coming from?  <EM>Go, go, find the Dwarf, </EM>Tyndall's urging echoed in his mind along with a growing sense of panic.  The Mystic took off at a run, skidding on gravel as he pelted down the trail.  The Paladin might be where Holly Windstalker could find her!  He couldn't let that happen, especially to someone he owed his life to.  <EM>Hurry, I can't hold her for long... </EM>Hold who? What?  A riderless pony ran by him and he jumped to one side to avoid the spilling packs.  Then Jimbob saw.  Below in a culvert lay a bloodied, motionless body, broken sword beside it. "KEBIA!" he shouted. No, this nightmare couldn't be happening again. It just couldn't.  He slid to a stop, hoping that he was wrong, that this wasn't the Dwarf Paladin, that maybe this was just a bad dream.</P> <P>    He wasn't wrong.</P><p>Message Edited by StormQueen on <span class=date_text>01-22-2007</span> <span class=time_text>10:30 AM</span>

[dano]

<P>WOW :smileyhappy:</P> <P> </P> <P>Well done, I am really enjoying this story. Please continue:smileyhappy:</P>

[StormQueen]

<P>Chapter 25: Restoration</P> <P>    She found herself floating in a netherworld abyss.  There was no sensation to be had, no light, sound, touch, taste, or smell.  She wondered who she was and how she had gotten there. <EM>This is the preliminary to the afterlife, </EM>came a communicated thought. She <turned> in the nonspace to <see> a glowing <portal>, through which she could <see> a spirit, unmistakeably that of a Barbarian man. The <portal> beckoned her, drawing her, compelling her to <enter> and pass from the timeline into eternity. <EM>It is not yet yer time, </EM>the spirit entreated.  <EM>Please don't enter here. Why not, </EM>she wondered. Then, <EM>who am I anyway? Where is this place? </EM>The spirit in the portal replied, <EM>ye are a Dwarf Paladin named Kebia.  Ah, yes. </EM>Kebia stopped <moving> and thought about that.  Ironic, a wandering spirit  had sent her here to the place it could not go.  <EM>Who are you, </EM>she queried.  <EM>I am Tyndall, once Jimbob's friend, now his spirit guide. </EM>Kebia was puzzled. She began to <move> closer to the <portal> once more.  <EM>Stop! </EM>Tyndall commanded. <EM>Ye need to go back. Don't ye remember the Mystic?  He needs ye. He just doesn't know it yet. </EM>Kebia paused. <EM>Jimbob, </EM>she thought.  She tried to <see> anything but the <portal>. Nothing.  <EM>He will call ye, </EM>Tyndall indicated. <EM>Just wait.</EM></P> <P><EM>    </EM>As he gasped for breath, Jimbob began chanting the spirit path call. He must not be too late again. If he failed, he didn't want to live.  "Find your way back by the charted path," he panted.  "Come on Kebia, I know you're there." His initial shock and panic were now stark terror; he held onto self-control by a very thin thread. And in this very moment of worst possible things, he had an epiphany.  He realized he had fallen in love with the Dwarf.  Jimbob cradled the corpse to himself as he rocked back and forth, alternately chanting and pleading. His desperation was growing; as a last-ditch effort he reached out along the path himself. The world faded around him as he followed the thread inward, trying to get a glimpse as before of the portal.  Was something moving his way? He couldn't wait any longer; he had to snap back to himself before he lost track in the abyss.</P> <P>    She sensed an urgency to <move>, either into the <portal> or....where? Then she <saw> the <thread>.  It <led> out into the world she had come from, apparently.  Now she could <see> where to go. For a moment she <saw> the human standing on the <thread>, motioning her to <follow>. Then he was gone back to wherever it was she needed to <go>.  She sensed that she was needed, wanted, back that way.  Kebia took one long last <look> at the shimmering <portal> and the anxious spirit within, and then allowed  herself to <drift>  along the silver <thread>. It caught her up and began dragging her along, at first a stream, then a raging torrent pulling her inexorably back into the physical world, into light and sound and pain. The memory of the afterlife faded like a forgotten dream as Kebia groaned and struggled, trying to free herself from whatever held her down. Then she realized that the bindings were really arms around her. She tried to look up to see.The pressure eased, and she found herself staring at none other than the Mystic, Jimbob Stormwalker.</P> <P>    Was it ever going to work? Jimbob felt himself sinking into the bleakest depths of despair. And then he felt a twitch, and another. He relaxed his hold, not sure he wasn't imagining things.  Could it be he'd done it at last?  He looked down, not daring to hope but hoping anyway, and found himself gazing upon the most beautiful sight he could imagine: a filthy, bloodstained, disheveled, <EM>living </EM>Dwarf woman.  He drew in his breath and let out a shout of relief and triumph. "Yes! You're back! Oh, Kebia..." he drew her close again. Never had he known such joy. How could he not have realized it before, that it was her all this time that he loved?</P> <P>    She was more than a little overwhelmed by his emotional response. What was going on here?  She remembered the ghost and how hard it hit her.  She smiled weakly and said, "I guess Holly knocked me off my horse. I must have hit my head or something; I don't remember." "She killed you! I was so sure I was too late... it took a lot of coaxing to draw you back." <EM>Huh? </EM>thought the Dwarf. She had died and been revived? She had no recollection of it, only of falling to the ground then awakening a few moments ago.  "Well, I remember nothing of it. But I thank you for returning me to life; you've more than repaid any debt you owed."</P> <P>    Jimbob mentally chastised himself.  <EM>What were you thinking, </EM>he raged inwardly. <EM>Did you think she'd fall at your feet and profess her undying love for you? It's not her fault you acted like a fool just now, and she's being very nice about it.  </EM>He squared his shoulders, stood up, and took a few steps away, speaking in a calm voice. "I will need to get you back to the village, then I will leave for Qeynos.  I will carry word of your location to Graystone Yard, to whoever you need me to contact.  I am sorry I just acted like an idiot there.  I had no right to become so familiar.  I am glad you're alive, and I'm sure your people will be glad to know you're safe." <EM>And who knows, maybe some lucky Dwarf man somewhere.... </EM>he couldn't complete the thought.</P> <P>    Why would he be leaving? Didn't he care? She had to take the chance and find out what was going on here.  "I don't want you to leave," she replied.  "I can't stay, Dwarf woman. I seem to have developed the foolish notion that I am in love with you." Kebia felt faint. "And since I'm sure that would make you uncomfortable, I will be on my way." Jimbob was shocked to see tears running down her face. It was worse than he'd thought; he'd really upset her.  If he didn't have to get her to Windstalker Village  he would already be down the road. </P> <P>    Dwarves are a proud people, not given to self-effacement or groveling.  But this Dwarf was desperate and terribly lonely, and still sick and weak from her traumatic experience.  She stood up, wobbled over to Jimbob, and threw her arms around the startled Mystic.  "But I love you," she sobbed. Jimbob at first couldn't even register her words; they were beyond any expectation.  Then he dropped to his knees in the dirt and returned the hug forcefully. "Kebia....sweetness...." he choked out. Love had found him at last.</P>

[dano]

<P>awwwww :smileyhappy:</P> <P> </P> <P>more please :smileyhappy:</P>

[StormQueen]

I apologize for the hiatus on this story. More IS forthcoming.

[valkry]

LLLLLLEEEEEEERRRROOOOYYYYYYYYYY!

[niko_teen]

oh very nice i was begining to worry that there wouldn't be anymore to the tale

[StormQueen]

<p>Chapter 26: Homecoming</p><p>     The afternoon light lent a warm glow to the city, but Tabaar was in no mood to enjoy the sights. Word had come from the Qeynos Guard that a mail courier had reported an awful tragedy happening in Windstalker Village the previous week, that the townspeople had killed a shaman. But the Barbarian needed to find out for himself, which was why he had summoned the courier to Graystone.  The tavern was as good a place as any; he stomped in and settled at a corner table to await the man.</p><p>     A timid-looking Half-Elf scuttled into the barroom and peered around nervously, ready to bolt in case of trouble.  "Over here," called out a gruff voice from the back of the room.  Tabaar eyed the Half-Elf as he seated himself.  "All right, ye know I am Tabaar Hammersmite, Elder Mystic of Graystone Yard." "Ah, yes sir, and I am Symaneth, Her Majesty's Royal Mail carrier." The Elder Mystic motioned him on with a gesture of slight impatience. "Well, I was just done collecting the mail in Windstalker Village and was on my way out, sir, having just saddled up and mounted my horse, when there came a commotion. The villagers were attacking a bear, but as soon as someone ran it through, it changed into a man and fell to the ground. A Dwarf ran up and shouted that they'd killed a shaman, and i panicked and galloped out of there." Tabaar forced himself to ask the question he didn't want to hear answered. "Then...did ye see what sort of man this shaman was?"  "Oh, I didn't really get a good look, but it was a Human man and he had a beard."  Not again... "Oh, no," the Barbarian groaned. He shoved a gold coin to Symaneth. "Leave me be!"</p><p>     "It'll be nice to get back into town and unpack all this gear and ore," Kebia remarked as she and Jimbob drew near the gates of the city.  "There's going to be so much to tell at the travelers' convocation next week. Plus I have all these ore samples and some nice gems, and a much greater treasure." She smiled. "And what is that?" he asked. "You, of course!" She reined in her pony and turned in the saddle to reach out a hand to his shoulder. "And you're a treasure I plan to keep."</p><p>     Jimbob figured they had better check in with Tabaar in case anything important had happened. And anyway he wanted his mentor to meet Kebia.  There was so much to tell. When they reached the inn and tavern, he pushed open the door, intending to head up the stairs to the Elder Mystic's home. But the barkeeper frantically motioned him over to her. "Young Mystic," she murmured, "something's wrong with Tabaar. He's been sitting in that corner for days, drinking himself into a stupor until closing time. Not like him." Jimbob looked up in alarm. Indeed, a slumping form at a table, back to the room, gave witness to her statement. He hurried over, Kebia following, and was about to say something when he stopped short. Tabaar was mumbling something barely audible.  Kebia looked at Jimbob in confusion. Surely the Elder Mystic wouldn't be sitting here getting wasted on Dwarven Ale would he? Then Tabaar raised his head slightly, still staring at the wall, and began to speak more clearly.</p><p>     "Why does everyone I care about end up dying? I thought I could get over anything...but I can't take anymore. Jimbob, if somehow ye can hear me, please forgive me for not being there in Windstalker Village. I neglected to do what I should have, and now it's too late." "But you didn't do anything wrong," Jimbob started to say. Tabaar shuddered and gasped. "Now I'm imagining things. This is too much." He drew a small dagger from a belt sheath.  "I'd rather go now than have that voice haunt me forever." </p><p>     Kebia stepped around the table to where the Barbarian could see her. He had to be distracted. "Easy now," she cautioned. "Who are ye?" Tabaar wanted to know. "I'm Kebia, Paladin of Qeynos. What bad news did you receive?" "According to the mail courier, my best student died in a stupid accident out in Antonica. I thought of him as a son, really.  He meant a lot to me." Tabaar turned the knife over and over in his hand. "Maybe it would be best to end this torment." "Hold on a second," said the Dwarf. She glanced up at Jimbob, warning him with a gesture not to move. The puzzle pieces were fitting together now.  "I was there in Windstalker Village and I saw him speared. I ran up and shouted that they'd killed him, but when i touched him, he had a faint pulse. So I released healing energy into him. Tabaar, he didn't die. Look behind you." The Barbarian slowly turned, not knowing what to expect. Maybe this was a dream. A familiar face swam into view as a welcome voice chuckled, "I'm harder to lose than you think."</p><p>     The crushing headache was witness to his overindulgence. Tabaar groaned and tried to open his eyes, but the light hurt. Somehow he was back in his own bed. Someone had brought him here? He had no recollection. "Ah, you're awake," remarked a female voice. He tried to focus on her; as his vision cleared he saw it was a Dwarf woman who had spoken.  "Errr... thank ye, ma'am, for yer discretion. How much do I owe the tavern?" "I have no idea as I don't work for them. But they did help get you back here to recuperate. Do you recall anything that happened today?" "Nay, only some dream that I had that my protege had somehow returned from the dead. Wishful thinking...." He worked his way to a sitting position on the edge of the bed.  Memories were coming back to him now. "Wait, ye called yerself Kebia, right?" The Dwarf nodded. "Oh, how embarrassing. I was drunk, wasn't I? What a way to introduce myself to a lady. And I was so confused, getting ye mixed into the fate of the young Human I was training.  Sometime I will tell ye all about him, and how he saved my sanity when my son died." He shook his shaggy head mournfully, then winced. </p><p> "Tabaar, what would you say if I told you that I was a witness?" "I don't understand. Ye were there? And I keep thinking I saw him in the tavern...the alcohol must have affected me more than I thought." "Tabaar, what if it were all a bad dream? What if the courier was wrong? What would you say if Jimbob walked into this room right now?" "Don't tease me with hope, girl. I'm all out of hope." A figure abruptly filled the doorway, blocking the light.  "Like I said before, I'm harder to lose than you think."  Tabaar's jaw dropped open. He scrambled to his feet, heedless of the headache, as Jimbob moved over to steady him. "Ye are alive! How... thank the heavens..." The Human grinned and pointed to Kebia. "And thanks to her."</p>

[Jakimo]

<span style="font-size: small; font-family: book antiqua,palatino">This is a wonderful story.  I've just found it and read it from the beginning to your last installment.  I'm hooked.  I can't wait for the next post, you are a gifted storyteller.  I'm really looking forward to seeing how the relationship between Jimbob and Kelia develops, a most unusual pair.</span>

[StormQueen]

<p>Chapter 27: A Sense of Belonging</p><p>     Tabaar's study was small but comfortable enough with room for all three of them to be seated by the rolltop desk.  The Barbarian took a sip from a glass of fizzlepop and turned to face Jimbob. "All right, young human, I would hear yer story." The younger Mystic glanced over at Kebia, then took a deep breath and launched into a recounting of his trip back to the Steppes, and what he had found there. Tabaar's interest turned to sympathy as Jimbob told of his father's fate. "I brought back what little remains I could find," said the Human.  "At least I can give him a decent burial in the family plot."  "Aye, it would be the right thing to do.  I just wish he hadn't allowed rage and anger to rule him, for they destroyed what he could have been. Did ye ever find any sign of yer mother or siblings?"  Jimbob shook his head. "No, but that's why I headed for Windstalker Village next. My mother's note didn't give me a lot to go on, and i didn't want to bypass any possible destinations."</p><p>     The young Human explained how he had come to be attacked in the village that day, and how he had narrowly escaped death. "I was sure I was finished; the world started to fade out. Next thing I knew, I was being carried on a stretcher. Then I remember waking up in a bed in the inn.  This Dwarf was sitting there, and I naturally thought she was one of the healer acolytes. But it turns out she had gotten to me just in time...well, she can tell you about that."</p><p>     "Let me start back a bit," Kebia requested.  "I was mining a promising vein near Windstalker when I happened to see a man standing on a nearby hill.  I looked down at my work, and next I looked up he was gone but there was a bear in his place.  Naturally I was a bit surprised, but then I decided I was looking at a shaman shapeshifting.  But I had to finish working on that mining project, and I turned back to that as I didn't want to be out there after dark.  I gave the shaman little more thought until I heard the commotion as I entered the village a little bit later.</p><p>     "They had a bear surrounded and one of them threw a spear just as he turned back into Human form. I ran up and, well, you know the Paladin creed about saving lives. I didn't even think; I just acted. It was what any Paladin, or anyone with healing skills, would do given the circumstances."  The Dwarf hopped off the chair and began to pace the room. "What I didn't count on was becoming attracted to him."</p><p>     "And I had no idea," Jimbob interjected. "Even if I had known, we're talking about a Dwarf woman here. Different culture and all that, besides the obvious.  So as my injury knitted over the next week or so I started visiting more with one of the healer acolytes.  It had been about a week when I took her on a dinner date. I felt so awkward and guilty, though, and didn't know why. I ended the date early and went back to the inn room. Funny thing is, I was going to confide in Kebia in the morning and see if she knew why.  But it turned out she had left without so much as saying goodbye. Big surprise to me. For some reason I felt compelled to catch up to her and find out what had gone wrong. That's when he spoke to me again, Tabaar...."</p><p>      Kebia had heard the term "mixed emotions" before but had never really seen such manifested until now. The Northman's face reflected his sorrow, pride and love as Jimbob related how Tyndall's spirit had guided them both and helped Jimbob save her from death. "That's when I realized," the young Mystic said, "that I had somehow been tangled in her destiny, and that I was falling for her." He ran his hands over his face. "I didn't even fathom that she could feel that way, too. But she did, and does. Tabaar, we have a request to make of you.</p><p>    "Would you be our priest for a wedding ceremony?"</p><p>     Tabaar threw back his head and laughed joyously. "Of course, of course, young ones." He abruptly grew serious. "But ye face some serious obstacles. The biggest one is that the Dwarven community would never stand for one of its kind marrying a Clanless man." "This is true," Kebia answered. "Maybe a Clan will give him honorary status. But if worst comes to worst, I will marry Outside." "If ye do that, ye would be outlawed, and yer family shamed." The Dwarf nodded. "It's a last resort, Tabaar. But I WILL marry this man, come cave-in or catastrophe."</p><p>     The Elder Mystic hadn't become a skilled healer by missing details. He had noted the way the Human and the Dwarf looked at each other and how they contrived to make physical contact in discreet, unobtrusive ways. There was no doubt they already know how people in general would react  to overt affection between them.  But also he could see the strong bond that had formed, and he then knew for sure what he needed to do. "I'll be back in a few minutes," Tabaar announced, and strode out his front door. </p><p>     "Don't you see it," Kebia prodded Jimbob. "See what?" "Your mentor cares greatly about you. He loves you as a son." "You're joking.  I'm the reason he lost Tyndall in the first place; I'm a poor substitute at best." "Didn't you hear what he said in the tavern when we found him there?" was Kebia's rejoinder. "Ah, he was drunk. He would never feel that way sober."</p><p>      They were still arguing the point when the door opened and Tabaar walked back in. He was wearing a bearskin robe and a bear's head hat. "Come with me." They followed  him through Graystone to a large stone building. Inside was some sort of meeting going on.  They walked in, and immediately were shown to the front of the room. "This is hasty, I know, and I appreciate the Clan leaders and their representatives attending on such short notice," Tabaar addressed the assembly in Halasian. "I wish to invoke my right as leader of Clan Hammersmite to increase my Clan." He turned to the young couple. "Let it be known this Human and Dwarf wish to marry.  I wish to remove an obstacle to their doing so.</p><p>     A red-haired Barbarian woman stood up and motioned the assembly to silence. "Do ye invoke Charter? This is irrevocable and grants rights of succession." Tabaar rapped the base of his spear on the stony ground. "I do indeed. Let it be recorded and scribed. From this day forward it is in effect."  Kebia could follow the gist of it, but was rusty in Halasian. She looked up at Jimbob to see if he was understanding better what was going on.  From the look on his face, she guessed this might be the case.</p><p>     Jimbob could hardly dare to breathe. Was this some sort of dream? Was he REALLY being conferred such an honor? Was Kebia right about how Tabaar thought of him?  Then he heard Tyndall's voice in his mind say <i>yes my brother </i>as the Elder Mystic said, "This is something I could not do until today. It is my gift to ye, young Human, and is permanent and binding.  All assembled witness that thus evermore, Jimbob Stormwalker belongs to Clan Hammersmite...and my household as my adopted son."</p>

[StormQueen]

<p>Chapter 28: Closing the Circle</p><p>      There were a lot of preparations to be made, and most important, announcements to be posted. She might be an adult in the Dwarven community, but still there were rules and protocol to be observed. So Kebia broke the news to her parents as best she could. "So you've met  the man you intend to marry? What Clan does he belong to?" her mother wanted to know. <i>Well, there is no easy way to say this, </i>thought the young Dwarf.  "Clan Hammersmite," she blurted out. Her parents stared at her for a moment, then her father burst out laughing. "Aye, that's funny. A Barbarian Clan. Now seriously, what Clan is he?" </p><p>      Kebia sighed. "Really, Clan Hammersmite." "You are in love with a son of Halas?" her mother exclaimed.  "Um, no, you see, they adopted a Human by Council Decree and he happens to be a shaman and...." It took hours to tell the whole story, what with interruptions and queries and all. But finally Kebia and her parents came to an agreement of sorts. They would meet Jimbob, and if they felt favorably disposed toward him they would consider giving provisional approval to the match on behalf of Clan Ogrebane.  She had to be content with that; out-race marriages were rare among her people, and seldom won full approval.  </p><p>     The Halasian Council's weekly meeting dragged on as the afternoon sun slanted through the open windows and illuminated the dust in the air. Jimbob yawned and tried not to nod off.  "And now," the speaker was saying, "Will Tabaar Hammersmite please take the Staff?" The young Mystic was suddenly fully awake as his mentor and adoptive father got to his feet and approached the front of the room.  Tabaar took the proffered Staff and tapped the floor twice in acknowledgement of Speaker rights.  "As Clan Leader of Hammersmite, I hereby announce that there are marriage plans afloat. Pending approval of course from the other party's Clan, it brings me great pleasure to make public the engagement of Jimbob Stormwalker to Kebia of Clan Ogrebane." A surprised murmur arose from the seated audience, nearly drowning out the Elder Mystic's next words. "As ye know, Ogrebane is a Dwarven Clan." He tapped the Staff on the floor once more for quiet. "I give my personal approval to this binding, and with Jimbob's permission," here he smiled at the younger man, "I can say that the happy couple has set a date for one month from today."</p><p>      It was nearly the hour for the evening meal, and Caelana had just locked all the jewelry displays when a Dwarf woman walked in. "I'm Caelana, how may I help you ma'am?"  "Oh, hello, I'm looking for a wedding ring set.  The gems need to be Dwarven mined." Caelana wondered about the Dwarf's statement; her people did fine metalsmithing and jewelcraft without searching in Human shops. But all she said was, "right this way; we have several styles to choose from."</p><p>      Kebia looked over the displays with interest. Human designs were different but very nice in their own right. She pointed to one particular brilliant white pair set with pale blue Kaladim sapphires.  "Is that white gold," she asked. "No, that's platinum, mined up in northern Everfrost." "They're what I'm looking for. How much do they cost?" The woman named a figure that caused Kebia to let out a low whistle.  "Costly. But given the quality and origin...can I try it on?" Caelana brought out the rings from the display case and Kebia tried the women's ring on for fit. "Just a bit tight." "We can size that up no charge to you. A half size is enough, Madam." "Please call me Kebia." "Lady Kebia, you will need to bring in your betrothed so he can try on his ring also. Plus I must require a deposit on this purchase, payable when the rings are sized and ready."</p><p>      The Human woman bustled about , putting away the rings and straightening the display. "Caelana," said the Dwarf, "here you go." She held out enough coin to place a deposit on the set. Caelan didn't seem to hear her at first , then she turned with a start. "Ah, thank you Lady Kebia.  I will make out a receipt for the deposit and write the date down when you can pick up the rings." Kebia watched her duck into the back room and pondered how the woman seemed a bit familiar.  Very strange; she was sure they had never before met.    </p><p>      Caelana shook her head as she locked up the store.  Living under an assumed identity was taking some getting used to even after all this time.  To think she hadn't even responded to the use of her new name.  But she had little choice as long as there was still any danger of her being found out.  Her children's safety came first.  The problem was, it made her search for her missing son very hard indeed.  She couldn't very well go asking for him by name, or placing an ad in the paper.  Instead, Caelana watched the crowds every day, hoping against forlorn hope to finally catch sight of him by chance. Was he even alive?</p><p>     The next morning Kebia told Jimbob of her find.  "A very nice set. Dwarven gems, metal from Everfrost, and made in a Human workshop.  The woman does very nice work. I put a deposit down, but need you to look them over and try yours on for size. They are costly, though." "How much?" Jimbob wanted to know.  The young Paladin told him. "That's a bit more than we wanted to spend," the Mystic understated.  "I know, but they're perfect, and I had such a good feeling about this." "What do you mean?" "I really can't quantify it, but she seemed familiar and like an old friend." </p><p>     Kebia pushed the door open, setting off the bell that was tied there to indicate visitors.  "I'll be right with you," called out a voice from the back room.  Jimbob paused warily on the threshold. Kebia urged him into the room. "Come on, they're right over here," the Dwarf announced.  The Human man looked into the display and then over at Kebia.  "You say you like these?" "Yes, I do." "Then we'll get them. After we..." whatever Jimbob intended to say was never finished, for at that moment the woman Kebia knew as Caelana came out of the back room, carrying a tray of jewelry.  The young Mystic saw her and his jaw dropped. Then the Human woman saw Jimbob and dropped the tray.   </p><p>     "Jimbob?" </p><p>     "Mother!"</p><p>     </p>

[valkry]

<img src="/smilies/283a16da79f3aa23fe1025c96295f04f.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" /> It would be a crying shame if they had gotten married before he found his mom.

[StormQueen]

<p>Chapter 29: Family Time</p><p>     The young Dwarf watched as mother and son embraced each other in an emotional reunion. For a long time Jimbob just held his mother as she sobbed out her joy at finding her oldest son alive and well. Finally he turned and indicated Kebia. "Mother, this is Kebia, the woman I intend to marry.  Kebia, this is my mother Roanna." The young Paladin curtsied, then looked confused. "Roanna? But your nametag says Caelana..." she broke off abruptly.  "I'm sorry. That's a personal matter, I know." "No, dear, it's quite all right.  I've been living under an assumed name as have my daughter and other son.  Their father had problems and we had to put some distance between us." "Um, that isn't necessary anymore," Jimbob answered. "Why not?" "I found his wagon, or what was left of it.  Seems that bandits got him. I brought his remains with me for a decent burial." Roanna began to sob anew, out of both grief and relief. Grief for the man she had married and what could have been, and relief that his tormented soul was at last at rest.</p><p>     The three of them made their way across town to Roanna's apartment. She turned and cautioned Jimbob and Kebia to wait back a few feet. She then tapped out a rhythm on the door before using her key.  "Code, so the kids know it's me," she said as she opened the door.  "I'm home, and I have a surprise for you." A young woman came in from the kitchen area, trailed by an adolescent boy. "Jimbob," she cried, and ran to hug her older brother. The younger brother held back, clearly discomfited by this reappearance of his older sibling.  Roanna noticed this and hastened to reassure him. "Come on now, Garreth, aren't you glad to see your brother? He's happy to see you!" Just then the young woman noticed the Dwarf. "Hi there! I'm Gwenna!" Kebia curtsied and introduced herself. Jimbob put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. "Not only that, she's my betrothed," he announced.  "Congratulations!" Gwenna exclaimed. "When's the big day?"  "Three weeks now," he replied. Garreth took a step forward. "You're gonna marry a Dwarf? That's really weird," he retorted. "Now now, that's not polite," remonstrated his mother.  "No, it's all right, Mother," Jimbob answered. "In fact, let's all go sit down at the table. I have a lot to tell." </p><p>      Several hours of reminiscing later, the family members were emotionally exhausted but happy, Kebia noted. Well, the younger brother was still reserved, but she figured he'd come around.  Roanna went into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal while the others talked some more. The young Dwarf got up and followed. "I don't need any help, Kebia, but thank you." Kebia nodded.  "I would like to bring one more person to dinner if that is possible." "And who would that be?" "Tabaar. It would be a nice surprise for him, and he really needs to know anyway." Kebia lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "One thing Jimbob didn't tell you yet. Tabaar did a Clan adoption, yes... but he also did a familial adoption." Roanna stared at the Paladin. "You mean to say..." "Aye, Jimbob is legally and formally Tabaar's son." Jimbob's mother was flustered at this turn of events.  "One thing to remember, Roanna, he had no way to know that you and his siblings were even here.  I'm sure that it was the right thing at the time, and it wasn't Jimbob's idea anyhow."</p><p>     Kebia tapped at Tabaar's door.  "It's open," came the familiar reply. She pushed the door open and saw that the Elder Mystic was at his desk. He turned in his chair and smiled.  "Ah, Kebia, nice to see ye."  Then a puzzled frown. "Did ye come alone then? Is everything all right?" "Aye, everything's fine. In fact, I have great news. Remember how I went and found a set of rings I liked, and needed to bring Jimbob in to have his sized?" Tabaar gestured for her to continue. "Well, when the lady who runs the shop saw Jimbob, she called him by name, and he answered her. Tabaar, we found his mother!" "Thank the Tribunal," exclaimed the Barbarian.  "Ye know he'd been searching for his family ever since he got to Qeynos.  Are his brother and sister all right?" "Aye, they are fine also." "I would like to meet them sometime, young Dwarf." "How about right away? You are invited to dinner at Roanna's house." The big man grinned. "I'll take ye up on that offer."</p><p>     "Could you get that?" Roanna asked her eldest son. Jimbob went to the door and opened it to reveal not only Kebia but the Elder Mystic.  "Come in, come in," the younger Mystic chuckled.  Tabaar ducked through the doorway and bowed to Jimbob's mother. "Tabaar Hammersmite, at yer service, ma'am," he announced. "Hello, Tabaar. I'm Roanna, and these are my daughter Gwenna and son Garreth.  The girl curtsied; the boy gave a curt nod.  Jimbob put his arm around Kebia and led  her to the table.  "Let's get this all dished up and ready," he suggested.  They set to work and before Roanna even noticed, the meal was served. "There's our cue," she laughed as Kebia rang a small bell she found on a shelf.  "Smells heavenly," Tabaar commented. "My compliments to the cook."  Then Garreth piped up, to everyone's delighted surprise. </p><p>     "From every hallway, from every street, I can hear the sound of running feet. Make way, make way, don't be discreet; it's high time we sat down and had something to EAT!"</p>