Coming of Ages End (Some Mature Content) [Archive]

View Full Version : Coming of Ages End (Some Mature Content)

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 05:10 AM

Greetings all! Been a while, but I've decided to start posting my latest work of fan fiction. This piece is entitled "Coming of Ages End" and it is a sequel (of sorts) to "Snowreader," which I am humbly honored to have listed in the recommended reading thread. Glad someone found it enjoyable, hehe. Anyway, this piece does assume that you've read "Snowreader" as there are several recurring characters and allusions to events in that story, so if you have not already, I highly HIGHLY recommend reading that first, via the following link: <a href="http://forums.station.sony.com/eq2/posts/list.m?topic_id=188182" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">Snowreader</a> Oh and one last thing, "Coming of Ages End" is a work in progress, and is ever evolving. Keep checking back with it for new chapters and even those you have already read, as I often make corrections and additions to their content. So without further ado, here we go! ---------------------------------------------------------- The Coming of Age’s End Chapter 1: The Sound of Thunder It didn’t slowly spring to life like ordinary thunder; no, the report that shook the calm, lazy afternoon silence of Faydark Forest sounded suddenly and sharply. It was unlike any thunderclap those within earshot had ever heard. After several moments had passed, a few of the more curious Faydark inhabitants emerged from their huts and tree homes to investigate. Vornia Weywynd, a Feir’Dal seamstress, was the first to arrive in the area where the odd thunder was heard. An almost over-powering stench of something burning lingered heavy in the air, along with a slowly retreating cloud of white smoke. Within a moment, Vornia let out a short scream of horror. Before her, lay the body of another Feir’Dal woman, face down in a patch of wild flowers. Slowly and cautiously, the seamstress approached the body. The slain Wood Elf was still warm, although her naturally copper-hued skin already began to pale. Vornia swallowed the growing lump in her throat and rolled the body over. Staring back up at her, was the lifeless face of Wendalyn Morninglight. Wendalyn was well known for being an absolute lover of nature. She went indoors only to sleep, and, while extremely well liked and friendly, preferred the company of animals, the tree, and babbling brooks to that of other Elves. Vornia looked down at the gaping hole in Wendalyn’s chest, right at heart-level; the wound went completely through her body. “Vornia?” Her husband’s voice called on the approach behind her. “What’s going on? I heard –“ But he could only stop and gasp at the sight. “Who . . . what on Norrath could have done this?” “I don’t know, my love.” Vornia ran her hand lightly over the bed of blood-spattered wild flowers, once white as fresh snow. “But we need to tell someone in Kelethin. What or whoever did this may still be out there.” “Yes . . . yes, of course.” Vornia’s husband suddenly wrinkled his nose. “And what of that horrid burning smell? It hit me like a wave as soon as I saw you.” “Again, I know not.” Vornia slowly stood, eyes still locked on Wendalyn’s body. “Make haste to Kelethin, my love, and summon the Captain. I will bring a sheet to cover poor Wendalyn.” * * * * Saranaea Enothie was stuck in a conundrum – she was an extraordinary young Wood Elf trapped in a mind-numbingly ordinary Wood Elf’s life. She was only a thousand years old, and yet she felt as though she was already ancient. Her whole life, she had been raised as an adult – adult sensibilities, adult interests, adult education. She never got to play or associate with others her own age, because there weren’t any others her own age; at least, there weren't any others her age stuck in the same, boring adult mindset. To make matters worse, she suffered from the dreamer’s disease. Her mind was always active, racing with questions and daydreams, and no outlet for them, except one – Aelwyl Azuremoon, her godmother. Saranaea would often unload her myriad of thoughts and questions onto Aelwyl. The elder hierophant would of course listen, and answer the questions given to her as best she could. But at Aelwyl’s age of over five thousand years, she found it harder and harder to keep up with the near daily barrage. It just so happened that this is where the young Feir’Dal could be found – in the company of Kelethin’s most revered druid. The two lounged on a great patio attached to their house of darkened wood, listening to the song of the wind as it raced through the immense evergreens, upon which the city of Kelethin rested. Spring had long since chased the cold grip of winter into the coming year; summer was fast approaching, and the last vestiges of the dead season were warmed away months ago. “I love this place,” Saranaea mused, watching a single dead leaf that survived spring's rejuvenating breath being picked up by the wind and gently carried off the edge of the patio with a faint scraping sound. “You can almost reach up and touch the ceiling of the world.” The young Feir’Dal reached her hand up as far as it would stretch and imagined touching a warm, fluffy cloud before slowly moving it across the sky with her finger. “Many times I wish I could, as well,” Aelwyl calmly agreed. Even in the twilight of her life, the hierophant’s voice still carried an air of authority, mixed in with her normal warmth, as if every person she spoke to was, paradoxically, an old friend that she was meeting for the first time. “I wonder if we will ever be able to truly touch the sky one day?” Aelwyl laughed quietly, remembering back to an age long past when she, while riding on the deck of a ship during a clear night, posed a similar question. “Oh, I think so. We are learning new things every moment. You are too young to realize it, but Norrath has changed ten-fold from when I was your age. Many new lands and races of men have been discovered. Travel by ship has all but disappeared, since the long dormant wizard gates have been re-opened. New technologies, which were almost unfathomable in my time, are making everyday life so much easier. But I think we should slow down. If we lose touch with nature and the primal magic forces, we risk losing ourselves.” “My whole life, I’ve left Kelethin only a few times that I barely remember. I’ve never seen anyone besides other elves. All I’ve ever known is right here in Faydark.” “Yes, your father was always somewhat overly-protective of you.” “My father . . .” Saranaea grew immediately silent and let her mind wander. Ioemir Enothie was a good, proud man. As a father, you could find none more loving and protective than he. But therein, in his daughter’s view, lay the problem. Every skinned knee, every sniffle, every time she didn’t come home when she said she would after going out to play – Ioemir would shake with worry until he knew his daughter was completely safe. He didn’t want her traveling, either. There are dangerous, immoral people everywhere out there, he’d always say to her. “But you know why he was that way.” Aelwyl broke the silence, as if she could read Saranaea’s very thoughts. The young Wood Elf was taken aback by this insight, staring blankly at Aelwyl for a moment. “Y-yes, I know. You’ve told me the story many times over. It’s just . . . I feel like I was cheated out of a normal childhood. My father might as well of kept me on a leash –“ “But did you still love him?” Aelwyl interrupted. Again, Saranaea was taken by surprise, then anger. “Of course I did. How can you even ask that?” Aelwyl remained silent. “I’m sorry, Aelwyl.” Saranaea knelt down and rested the side of her head in Aelwyl’s lap. The hierophant placed a slightly shaking hand gently on her goddaughter’s hair. “You’ve been like a mother to me. Everything I’ve learned about being a woman, I’ve learned from you. I just . . . I just wish I wasn’t bound to this place anymore. Everything that I am is screaming to go out and have an adventure; to see new lands and make new friends – make any friends.” “And you will one day,” Aelwyl consoled. “But you are still very young. Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. If you keep looking at what’s ahead, you’ll never have time to stop and see what’s happening around you; and what’s happening around you is called ‘life’.” Saranaea looked up at her godmother and opened her mouth to say something. But before she could get a word out, someone suddenly walked briskly onto the patio. “M’Lady, Aelwyl,” a brightly decorated Champion of Faydark addressed with a bow. “Your presence at the main lift is requested. I’m afraid there’s been a murder.” (To Be Continued . . .)

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 05:23 AM

Chapter 2: The Illusion Shattered “A murder?” Saranaea leapt to her feet in disbelief. Murder was a virtually non-existent term in Feir’Dal society. To the Wood Elves, life was sacred, and to take another’s life through an act of violence was unthinkable to most. The last such action took place nearly a thousand years ago, when the necromancer, Meklozanth Xolasus slaughtered the entire village of Nithmiel. Before that, recollections of any murders were long lost in the mists of time. “Oh, by Tunare,” Aelwyl whispered in a concerned tone. With some difficulty, the elder druidess raised herself from her chair and, accompanied by an anxious Saranaea, made her way to the main lift. Once there, they met with Captain Swiftblade and a man named Menai Weywynd. He explained to the Captain about how his wife had found the body with a mysterious wound in its chest. Immediately intrigued, Swiftblade gathered a small company of his men and Aelwyl for a personal inspection. “Well,” Saranaea began in the most official-sounding voice she could muster, “as a personal attendant to Lady Aelwyl, I think it is my duty to join this investigation.” “Erm, well . . .” Captain Swiftblade looked down at the girl and then at his fellow Champions. “Saranaea, please,” Aelwyl said in that no-way tone, “I know you are eager to get out and explore, but this is a murder – hardly an occasion for your first step out into the world.” “But Aelwyl . . .” Saranaea began to plead. “No, my child, please go home. I will tell you of it when I return. Saranaea –“ Aelwyl’s voice suddenly became very motherly. “Look at me.” As if commanded by a force beyond her power, the young Wood Elf looked up into Aelwyl’s face, serenely illuminated by the sun’s rays. “Your time for adventure will come. Just please, trust me now, and wait here for my return. I will be back before the sun has even begun to set.” Saranaea sighed in resignation. “Alright.” Head hung low, she skulked off the lift, turning back to watch it lower slowly to the ground. Minutes later, Saranaea paced furiously around the treetop patio. She knew that Aelwyl was only trying to look out for her, but curiosity was eating her alive. Finally, when all of it reached its boiling point, the young Wood Elf made up her mind – she was going to sneak out of Kelethin. The Feir’Dal capital city had several emergency hatches that dropped a long length of rope, leading all the way down to forest floor. These hatches were to be used only in dire emergencies, such as in war or a forest fire. Thankfully, to anyone's recollection, they have never been used. The only problem was that each hatch remained eternally guarded. Pretending to take a late morning stroll, Saranaea made her way across Kelethin to the nearest hatch. As soon as she came within his view, the hatch guard began to watch her. She just smiled at him and walked slowly around the area, pretending to window shop at the nearby grocer’s stand. Out of the corner of her eye, Saranaea watched the guard. When he finally averted his gaze elsewhere, she quickly formulated a plan – grapefruit . . . slightly declined floor . . . distracted guard . . . hatch. “How much for these grapefruits?” Saranaea asked the grocer. “Those are really fresh, so I have to ask a silver for each. But you won’t find any juicier than mine.” “Well they certainly look it, but can it pass the roll test?” “The what?” Asked the puzzled grocer. “The roll test. See –“ Saranaea plucked a large grapefruit from the stand and gingerly tossed it onto the ground, where the fruit quickly began to roll its way to the edge of the city. “Hey! Guard! Get that grapefruit!” The hatch guard’s head darted up at the commotion, and watched (quite disbelieving) as a large grapefruit rolled past him; hesitantly, he ran after the escaping fruit. The moment he did, Saranaea made her move, flung open the hatch, and dropped the emergency rope. The guard, hearing the sound of the hatch opening, turned back to his post just in time to see a young woman wave goodbye and slide down the rope. The grapefruit could not be saved – it fell to the forest floor with a loud splat! Once her feet touched the soft, grassy earth, Saranaea broke into a run toward the forest line. When she finally calmed down, the realization that she was at last outside of Kelethin's confines for the first time in centuries hit her. Taking a few moments to look around, Saranaea breathed in the fresh forest air and ran her feet through the shade-cooled grass beneath her. Once her curiosity with this had faded, she refocused on her original mission – to follow Aelwyl and company to the murder site. Swinging around the forest to the main lift path, Saranaea hunted for tracks. It was a trick a friend of her father’s taught her. This friend was a ranger named Talis, who had aided Ioemir on the quest to save her life almost a millennium earlier. While she only met Talis on a few occasions, the time they spent together was irreplaceable. Talis taught her how to track, how to hunt, and the basics of archery, honed later by her father. Several yards from the main path, the fledgling woodswoman picked up the tracks of a small group of people – four were wearing heavy boots, one left only light prints, most likely made by sandals. It had to be them. After what seemed like endless hours of hiking, Saranaea finally caught sight of a group of people several hundred feet ahead; it was her query. She could see Aelwyl’s flowing silver hair even from this far back. Moving as silently as a gently breeze behind the investigative party, Saranaea could see a clearing coming into view. She waited until the party disappeared from the trees, and then observed them from the safety of the forest shadow. Words spoken could almost be understood, but the distance between the eavesdropping Wood Elf and the rest of the party was just a tad too great. Creeping around the forest perimeter, past the Weywynd’s hut, and behind a tree practically within a stone’s throw of the sheet-covered body, Saranaea finally got a clear view of everything. “Is this exactly where you found her?” Captain Swiftblade asked a Wood Elf woman, whom Saranaea assumed was Menai’s wife. “Yes, lying face down. I rolled her over to see who it was.” Swiftblade squatted down and removed the bloodstained sheet. Saranaea silently gasped at what the sheet uncovered – a pale, stiff face with glossy eyes staring blankly ahead, mouth frozen open as if it were just beginning to speak, and the wound – large and encrusted with dark blood. The young Wood Elf turned and sat against the tree trunk. She’d never seen death before; she wasn’t even with her father when he breathed his last. Too young they told her. The night Ioemir died, Aelwyl ordered his daughter into the care of the hierophant’s main priestess. “Hmm,” Swiftblade examined the wound for several moments. “That is a very curious wound, indeed.” “An arrow, perhaps?” One of the Captain’s men suggested. “No, not likely. The only arrow that could have done something like this would be one that had extremely powerful enhancements placed onto it. And even then, look – this wound is too round and neat to have been an arrow. “And you said there was a strange cloud of smoke and a burning smell, as well?” “Yes, my husband smelled it, too. I can’t describe it. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever smelled before.” “Can you describe the cloud of smoke to me?” “It was oddly white. Almost like a cloud from the sky came down and then quickly started to vanish once it saw me.” Swiftblade rubbed his chin for a moment before standing again and shaking his head. “In the two thousand years that I’ve held my position, I’ve never seen anything like this. M’Lady Aelwyl, are there any insights you can shed on this?” Aelwyl turned her head slightly skyward, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath. Wind, be my ears; the hierophant called out with her soul to Nature itself. Daylight, be my eyes; Father Faydark, pass your memories into me. Aelwyl suddenly felt as though the person looking through her eyes was no longer she; she was the forest; she saw what it saw. In a breath, the present scene was replaced by one that had taken place hours earlier. Wendalyn was kneeling before the patch of white wild flowers, holding a freshly picked one to her nose. Aelwyl turned her mind’s eye in a full circle, looking for anything unusual – but all was normal. When her gaze returned to Wendalyn, she was now standing, twirling a tiny flower between the tips of her fingers. Suddenly, from somewhere in the distance, there was an audible click. Scanning desperately, Aelwyl finally spotted the source of the sound. From behind a tree some distance off, there was a dark figure, as if obscured totally by shadow. In the figure's hands, rested a long tube-like device made of wood and metal with an opening at its end; it was pointed directly at the back of Wendalyn. With a brief, blinding flash, the tube let out a loud report, which sounded very much like an odd, localized thunder. Without hesitation, Aelwyl flashed back to Wendalyn, whose back and chest exploded in a spray of blood, which also issued forth from her mouth in a great cough. Wendalyn stood shocked for a moment, looking at the gore-covered hand she just placed on the fresh, smoking wound. Moments later, her knees began to give way, and she turned and fell lifeless into the patch of flowers. Aelwyl looked back at where the shot had come from, but there was no one there. Or at least, if there was, they were obscured by a large, nebulous cloud of white smoke. “M’Lady?” Captain Swiftblade was shaking the hierophant back into consciousness. “Yes, yes, I am here.” Aelwyl was visibly shaken, but still coherent and focused. “What did you see?” Aelwyl recounted her vision to everyone, Saranaea listening along in horror. When the hierophant had finished, Swiftblade recovered the body and announced that he would dispatch some more of his men to return with a stretcher, so that Wendalyn’s body could be brought back to Kelethin for inspection by the city’s most trusted healers. After she was sure they had all left, Saranaea stood and numbly emerged from behind the tree. Just a pace before the body, however, a familiar voice announced, “So you finally came out of hiding?” The young Wood Elf turned in shock to behold Aelwyl, standing serenely behind her. “You . . . you knew I was there?” “Of course, my dear,” Aelwyl shot her a calm smile. “You really are not Norrath’s most quiet tracker.” The hierophant walked up to beside her goddaughter and looked down at the covered body. “So . . . was it what you had imagined it to be like?” “Imagined what to be like?” “Death.” Saranaea’s eyes filled with small, warm tears. “No . . . it was . . . was.” She then started to cry loudly. “Oh, Aelwyl, I hated it! It was awful!” Aelwyl took her goddaughter in her arms and stroked the back of her head. “Shhh. Now now, Sara, don’t cry. Death is as natural as life itself. The tide rises and recedes; trees grow tall and fall to the earth. The means by which we die are sometimes unpleasant and unfortunate, but it is just the way of things. That is why we must live life with each step we take, each breath, each time we look into the eyes of someone we love.” Sara felt comforted by Aelwyl’s words, as she almost always had. Her mind was still reeling to cope with everything that had just happened. “Sara, let’s go back home, now. Some warm soup and cool water will do you good.” Slowly, Sara nodded and turned to go. Just before she completed her turn, however, something out of the corner of her eye briefly glittered in the sun’s descending rays. Quietly, Sara sidestepped to investigate the shine coming from the trunk of a small tree, a few paces from Wendalyn’s body. There, embedded a short ways into the tree, was a small, metallic object. Digging it out with her fingers, Sara discovered the object to be an odd, heavy ball of some sort. “Sara?” Aelwyl suddenly called a short distance off, “are you coming? This is really no place for either of us to dwell.” “Yes, Aelwyl,” she called back, slyly dropping the ball into the side pocket of her trousers. (To Be Continued . . .)

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 05:33 AM

Chapter 3: Lord Korus deMuin and His Associates The Dwarfish foundries of Dornanthal under the stone city of Kaladim were sites of legend. The Dwarves believe that the foundries were dug out by hand by the first of their kind to arrive in the land now known as Butcherblock. For as long as Dwarfish culture has existed, the great fires of Dornanthal have never been extinguished. Toiling deep within the Threshold Foundry, Bron Hammerfall had just put the finishing touches on his latest shield. To Bron, something he has forged is not just a simple creation of metal, it is a creation of life; he coddles each piece he forges as a mother would her child. Perfection was his philosophy. If, after rigorous inspection, he found an uncorrectable dent or scuff of any kind, the piece was useless and discarded. This newborn shield would live; it was flawless in Bron’s eyes. “Bron,” the voice of his friend, Hammick, called behind him. “Erm, he’s back.” Bron turned to behold Hammick, motioning toward the top of the long stair that leads to the cave networks that is Kaladim. Near the bottom of the staircase, descending at a calm but determined pace, were three, definitely non-Dwarfish figures. “Lord deMuin,” Bron bowed slightly to the man in the center, as all three approached the Dwarf. “Pleased ta meetcha again.” “Bron Hammerfall,” deMuin smiled and ever so slightly lowered his head, “likewise.” Lord Korus deMuin was the epitome of nobility – young, sophisticated, handsome, and very, very wealthy. His father was a shipbuilder, the best on Antonica; and when he died, Korus got everything. He had always had a passion for ships and the sea, but his taste for money overshadowed all. Now, the actual work in his father’s company is run from inside of itself, while deMuin collects the income, making appearances only when necessary, or when his fascination with seagoing gets the better of him. “So, erm, did ye like it?” “Oh it is most acceptable.” Korus smiled, running his hand along the length of his long, black hair, fastened into a ponytail. “Ehm, if ye don’t me askin’,” Bron began while cautiously eyeing his benefactor’s two companions, “who are they?” “Oh, of course, how rude of me. These are my . . . ‘associates’.” Lord deMuin smiled wider. “Fen Tzu to my left.” A somewhat shorter man, draped head to toe in a black hood and robes, bowed to the Dwarf. Bron craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse of inside Fen Tzu’s hooded face, but he simply turned away. “And to my right is Magzug.” The other man, much taller than Korus, and dressed in some tribal form of ritualistic armor, raised his covered head slightly and cleared his throat loudly. “Oh oh, forgive me – Magzug, Elder of the Swamp.” “Dat’s better,” said Magzug in a deep, growling voice. “A Troll?” Bron gasped. “Yes, well, you now see the need for the hood. After all, Trolls are not the most welcome race here in Kaladim.” “Aye, yeah, well, please ta meetcha.” Bron remained polite, but still fidgeted uncomfortably. Lord deMuin waved his hand dismissively and continued. “I don’t have much time, unfortunately, so I will come straight to the point. Your prior . . . ‘artwork’ has far exceeded my expectations, and I would very much like to procure more. I’m sure you’ll find my offer more than generous, of course. Unless one thousand platinum pieces does not suit your fancy” “Oh!” The Dwarf fidgeted even more in sudden desire. “Well, I’m sure I could whip up another one o’ those fer ya by tomorrow, and –“ “No no,” deMuin laughed quietly, “you see, the order I am putting in needs to be a little larger this time, say . . . fifty.” Born almost choked as his eyes flew open wider. “Fifty?” “You are up to the job, aren’t you?” “Well, aye, but fifty of those . . . erm . . . things are gonna take some time, laddie. Can’t just whip that many out in a day.” “Oh take your time, take your time. No rush. Well . . . not much of one, at least. Say, a fortnight from now?” “Aye,” the Dwarfish craftsman said, scratching his head and staring at his forge, “a fortnight’d be enough time. Course, ummm . . .” Bron leaned in toward Korus and said in a lowered voice, “throw in a barrel o’ that fine whiskey ye shared with me before, and I’ll have em ready a day or two early.” Lord deMuin leaned down to the Dwarf and said with a wink and a smile, “It’s a deal.” “Glad ta hear it, laddie. I’ll start on it right away!” “Excellent! Now if you will excuse me, my associates and I need to be going. There’s much preparation to be done.” Korus and his companions took their leave and started back up the long stairway. Hammick approached Bron again and said in a disdainful voice, “I don’t trust that daMooin’ guy any farther than I can toss him. He’s up to no good, Bron, you mark my words. Besides, you see the company he keeps, a stinkin’ Troll and that – that . . . whatever he is guy, all dressed in black robes.” “Eh, maybe,” Bron shrugged. “But he could be Cazic-Thule Himself as long he makes me rich!” (To Be Continued . . .)

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 05:40 AM

Chapter 4: Metallurgy 101 In the morning’s gentle light, Sara turned the small metal ball over and over in her fingers, fixated, as she lay sideways in her bed. But what is this? was the question that remained. There were dark red splotches on the ball’s surface, and what looked like tiny, almost invisible scratches, partially obscured by one of the red spots. Dropping the ball back into her pocket, Sara lifted herself out of bed and walked outside into the cool morning air. This time of day had always been her favorite – healed by the night, all was quiet and fresh. Walking through town, Sara watched as the rest of Kelethin awoke. Eventually, she found herself at the Healer’s Guild. Wendalyn’s body was no doubt inside now, being examined like a piece of meat under the watchful eyes of the city’s most revered physicians; the thought was somewhat repellent to Sara. Captain Swiftblade suddenly stepped outside, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. “Oh,” Swiftblade perked up a little upon seeing Sara, “hello again, Saranaea. You’re up early.” “Yeah, I just wanted to take a little walk.” “You seem kind of glum. Is something wrong?” “No,” she lied. “Just . . . thinking.” “Ahh,” the Captain said quietly through a long yawn. “So ummm, is Wendalyn in there?” Swiftblade stopped suddenly and eyed Sara. “Yes she is . . . why?” “Oh, no reason. Just curious is all.” “Well, that’s no place for you. After Dr. Heim is finished, we’ll cremate her properly.” “Dr. who?” Swiftblade silently admonished himself for his hasty words. “Erm, just someone from Antonica we called in to help. Look, we really shouldn’t be discussing this. I’m going to go get some sleep, I suggest you do the same. Good day.” The captain walked toward his house, looking back over his shoulder to make sure that Sara was not loitering around the guild’s entrance. What he did not see was the fact that, in the instant he turned his back to leave, Sara had ducked around the side of the building, watching through a tiny separation in the structure’s supports. After Swiftblade had finally disappeared out of sight, Sara darted into the guild entrance. The Healer’s Guild was nothing like she expected. Sara expected high-arch ceilings, with elaborate candelabras and silken tapestries. Instead, the interior of the guild was quite similar to that of a general store. There were shelves upon shelves of containers and jars of unknown contents – no doubt a myriad of healing salves and potions. Several long, wooden tables were set alongside the shelves, which Sara guessed were used for the examination of patients. At the end of this large room was set of heavy double doors, guarded by two Champions. Curiosity getting the better of her, Sara sashayed toward the doors, but was predictably stopped by one of the sentries. “Hold there, child. This chamber is off limits to everyone except guild officials. If you need medical aid, a healer will be with you shortly.” Knowing it useless to argue, Sara wandered back into the main room and examined the mystery jars. Moments later, the double doors swung open and out stepped a Feir’Dal healer, followed by what Sara identified as middle-aged Human with short, brown hair, interrupted by a few gray streaks. Sara stared in amazement, as this stranger was the first non-elf she had ever seen. “Yes, I agree zat ze wound is definitely not zomething that ve have encountered before.” The Human was addressing the healer in a quite, very casual tone. “But I veel most assuredly be doing further research into zees poor girl’s death.” His accent was fascinating; Sara wondered if all Humans talked like this. Fortunately, “The Common Tongue,” as it was known across Norrath, had permeated into almost every corner of the world, allowing different races to communicate. A burning desire to talk to this man welled up inside of her, yet there was still a nagging xenophobic fear that restrained her. “Oh, vhy hello zere, little one,” the man smiled and bent down to Sara’s eye level. “And vut brings you here?” “I – er, I’m just looking around.” “Oh, vell, zees is a good place to zatisfy one’s curiosity. So many fascinating things here. And vut is your name, may I ask?” “Saranaea Enothie,” she replied, feeling a little more comfortable with the stranger. “Ah, pleased to meet you, Saranaea. Zuch a pretty name for a pretty face. I am Doctor Karl Zweiduschletsberg Heimelstratsberger. Erm, but you may just call me Dr. Heim.” “I . . . don’t think I could say the whole thing anyway.” Dr. Heim laughed and smiled at Sara again. With an expression of sudden remembrance, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, brightly wrapped object, and gave it to Sara. “Here. Zees is zome candy from back veer I live. I like it so much I bring zome vith me, but you may have it.” “Thank you!” Sara’s eyes brightened as she looked over the vibrant pink wrapper excitedly – it was cylindrical, with Common Tongue writing on it. Antonica’s Finest were the only words she could make out; although Sara could speak the ubiquitous language almost perfectly, she never learned how to read much of it. Opening the wrapper, Sara discovered a pale pink piece of candy inside, which she popped into her mouth and chewed. “So how is it? Do you like it?” “Ith goof.” Dr. Heim snickered. “Yes, zey are a little chewy, eh? Vell, I vould very much like to ztay and talk vith you zome more, but I must go back to my hut. It vas very nice meeting you, Saranaea. Hopefully ve talk again before I go back home.” The doctor smiled again and took his leave. Sara swallowed the rest of the candy, which tasted remarkably like highly sweet strawberries, and darted after Dr. Heim. “Wait! Mr. Heim! I mean, Doctor Heim!” The doctor turned to see Sara running up to him. “Oh yes? Did I forget zomething?” “No. I just . . . here!” Sara produced the metal ball from her pocket and showed it to the doctor. “Vhy, hello. Vut have ve here?” “I –“ her face grew flush with embarrassment, “I found it at the murder site.” Dr. Heim raised a concerned eyebrow at her. “Oh no, my child. Zey made you go there and zee zat horrible thing?” “No, I went myself. I snuck out of Kelethin and followed the Captain and Aelwyl.” The doctor snickered softly again. “My my, vut a resourceful young voman. I vould very much like a daughter like you zomeday, but ah vell, enough babbling, ve go to my hut veer ve can ztudy zees closer, eh?” A warm surge rushed up inside of Sara. This was the first outsider she had ever met, and he was far from being “dangerous and immoral,” as her father described foreigners so many times. In fact, Dr. Heim was much kinder, not to mention much more interesting, than many other Feir’Dal in Kelethin. As soon as they reached the guest hut, Dr. Heim and Sara sat down at his table, upon which a large, black bag sat somewhat ominously. Dr. Heim opened the bag and removed what appeared to be an over-sized spectacle. Picking up another strange grasping device, which Sara could not begin to describe, Dr. Heim secured the metal ball and peered through the large spectacle, which made his eye seem huge. Sara giggled at the sight. The doctor, picking up on this, turned to Sara and moved the spectacle back and forth, creating a shrinking and growing effect on his eye. The young Wood Elf’s giggles grew louder. “Oh, zorry. I get carried avay zometimes. Anyvay, back to zees little ball thingy.” Dr. Heim examined the ball for several minutes, making the occasional uh huh and fascinated hmm as he did. “My my, zees is most curious indeed. Look here.” Sara scooted beside Dr. Heim and looked through the spectacle; the metal ball, always so tiny, now looked enormous and amazingly detailed. “Zees ball is definitely made of an iron alloy of zome zort. And you zee zees red zplotches? Zat appears to be blood. And here,” the doctor pointed with his grasping device to tiny words carved into the ball’s surface. “Zees vere carved by hand, by zomeone called . . . Bron Hammerfall.” Dr. Heim let out a loud hmmm, as if of deep understanding. “Of course. Zees must be . . .” Dr. Heim snapped his fingers and stood from his chair. “Sara, if you veel please excuse me, I must inform zee Healer’s Guild of zees discovery. May I hang on to zees for now? I promise I give it back to you vhen I am done.” “Of – of course. But wait! What does it mean? Can I go with you?” “Oh, vell,” the doctor looked apprehensive for a moment, but upon seeing the pleading expression upon Sara’s face, warmed and said, “okay, but vhen ve done, you go ztraight home, okay?” “I promise!” Sara jumped up excitedly and ran, almost skipping, after Dr. Heim. (To Be Continued . . .)

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 03:05 PM

Chapter 5: A Decent Proposal (part 1) “Welcome back, Dr. Heim,” one of the Healer’s Guild guards said with a nod in the most monotone voice possible. “Yes, thank you. I must zpeak vith zee healers immediately. I have discovered zomething very important.” “Of course, Doctor. But, erm, I see that girl is following you. Should I have her removed?” “Vhat? No no! Of course not! Saranaea is to accompany me. She is my guest today.” The guards looked at each other apprehensively. “Now doctor, you know this is not exactly a place for a child –“ “Yes, I am avare of zee nature of zees place, thank you,” Dr. Heim said in a calm yet stern voice. “But zees child has information vhich I think vill shed much light into zee young voman’s murder.” The guards looked expectedly disbelieving, but nonetheless opened the double doors, allowing the doctor and Sara to pass through. In contrast to the quaint, general store appearance of the main guild chamber, the large room beyond the double doors presented a scene unlike anything Sara had ever laid eyes on. The entire room was bathed in soft, blue light. Oddly shaped glass containers, filled with an array of multi-colored liquids, adorned several sprawling tables. Upon one small table that Sara passed, were placed several, shining tools of grim appearance. And there in the very center of the room, lay the body of Wendalyn, nude and as pale as ever; Sara stared for a moment at the horrible sight, before forcing her gaze to wander elsewhere. The healers present all greeted Dr. Heim, but stopped when they saw his visitor near the body. “It’s okay,” said Dr. Heim before the others had time to protest. “She is my guest today. And besides, I vant to show you all zomething this young lady showed me earlier.” The doctor handed the metal ball to the Prime Healer, an older Feir'Dal man, wearing the robes of the Druidic Order. The elder druid examined the ball carefully before asking, “What is this?” “Vell, I think that it’s zee device vhich killed poor Wendalyn here. Look, I show you.” Dr. Heim grasped the metal ball in his gripping device and pulled out the large looking glass again. He explained exactly what he had observed with Sara to the Prime Healer, and upon conclusion, successfully convinced the other healers that it had indeed been the cause of her demise. “But I still don’t see how it could have done it,” one of the healers said. “How could this tiny ball create such a large and fatal wound?” “It vould have to be propelled at enormous velocity,” Dr. Heim explained. “Zat hollow tube thing zat your elder druid described. You zaid it created a loud flash, yes?” “That’s right.” The Prime Healer approached Wendalyn’s body, looking deep into the wound. “A flash, a loud thunderclap, and a puff of white smoke.” “Hmm,” Dr. Heim paced the floor for a moment, rubbing his chin and staring at the floor. “Zen perhaps zees is vut happened: Zees metal ball vas placed inside zee tube. When zee tube vas lifted and exploded somehow, zee ball exited zee tube at a blinding peed. Being zo dense, and vith zo much force behind it, even zomething as zmall as it could tear through flesh as ve zee here.” “But – but such a device as the one you describe is unknown to us, Dr. Heim.” “Eh, zat ztill does not mean zat it does not exist. Well, zat is, assuming zat your druid voman’s vision vas true.” The healers looked sharply at each other, as if Dr. Heim had suddenly uttered some great offense. “It was true,” one of them said defensively. “And iz not my place to zay othervize.” Heim replied with an indifferent shrug. “But zee fact ztill remains – Wendalyn is dead, killed by zees metal ball here, mostly likely shot out by zat tube-like device. Can ve all agree on zees facts, gentlemen?” There was a quite, overall murmur of agreement from the healers. “Very good, now, if you vill excuse me and my new friend here, ve vill be going.” Dr. Heim and Sara strolled out of the double doors, through the main healing chamber, and as they opened the front door, the doctor asked Sara, “Vell, I am ztarving. How about you, Saranaea?” “Yeah, me too. And you can call me Sara, I don’t mind.” “Oh, good good! Here, ve go back to my hut and I cook you zomething from back vhere I come from.” “Wait! I know! Instead of you cooking, how about you come to where I live and I’ll cook! There’s someone I want you to meet anyway.” “Ah, vell, I zuppose. Um, are they a nice person?” “Oh yeah! She’s my godmother. My real mother died, you know. But Aelwyl’s always been there for me.” “Aelwyl, Aelwyl. Zees name zounds familiar.” Sara laughed in pride. “Well you should, she is the eldest, most respected hierophant in Kelethin!” “Oh yes, zee one who had zat . . . vision thing.” “That’s right. We live at the very top of the city, near the treetop patio. It’s a big, dark red hut. You can’t miss it!” “Ah yes, I zink I know vhere you mean. Okay, vell, let me get cleaned and dressed properly and I meet you in two hours, okay?” “Okay!” Sara bounced excitedly. “Two hours!” She waved goodbye to Dr. Heim and ran home as fast as she could. She felt as light as a feather; Dr. Heim was the kindest, most amazing man she’d ever met. (To Be Continued . . .)

niko_teen

08-08-2007, 03:07 PM

I think your text editor had a seizure there. But none the less keep them coming

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 03:11 PM

Hehe yeah, what I am doing is pasting them from a word processor then editing them to be more readable. It's a pain, but I think I got it down <img src="/smilies/3b63d1616c5dfcf29f8a7a031aaa7cad.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" />

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 03:12 PM

Chapter 5: A Decent Proposal (part 2) “So he’s from Antonica?” Aelwyl took a sip of Sara’s soup broth. “Yeah, and he’s got the strangest way of talking. I wonder if everyone from Antonica talks like that?” Sara gave the best Dr. Heim impression she could. Aelwyl laughed quietly. “Sounds like he might be from Weinshammel, or somewhere in North Freeport – it has quite a diverse population now.” The mention of Freeport jogged Sara’s memory. She pulled the empty candy wrapper from her pocket and showed it to Aelwyl. The hierophant read over the wrapper and handed it back. “Well this is definitely from Freeport, but he could be from anywhere really. Your soup needs more salt, by the way.” There was a knock on the door just as Sara added a pinch more table salt. Aelwyl stood to get the door, but Sara darted out of the kitchen yelling, “I’ll get it! I’ll get it!” The door opened, and there stood Dr. Heim – hair neatly brushed, smelling of fresh spice, and dressed in colorful, fine-spun cloth. He smiled warmly at Sara as he entered. “Hello, there. Zomething zmells quite vonderful in there.” “That’s my soup!” Sara said excitedly, leading Dr. Heim to the kitchen by his wrist. “You’ve got to try it!” When first laying eyes on Aelwyl a moment later, Dr. Heim was immediately overcome with an unnameable force of awe. Even long millennia could not erase all of her natural beauty or the helplessness one felt when looking into her emerald eyes. “Hello, Dr. Heim,” Aelwyl said with a pleasant smile. “I am Aelwyl Azuremoon. Sara won’t stop talking about you.” “Oh . . . vhy yes.” Dr. Heim cleared his throat and snapped himself out of it. “Zorry, I just . . . never expected how enchanting you vould be, M’Lady.” The doctor took her hand and kissed the top of it lightly. “Why thank you, doctor, you are most kind,” Aelwyl’s smile widened as she looked into Dr. Heim’s face for a long moment. Sara finally cleared her throat loudly, signaling everyone that dinner was served. Vegetable soup and Dwarfish bread, served with chilled berry cider and fresh sugar fruits for desert were on the menu that night. Dr. Heim took one taste of Sara’s soup and his eyes lit up. “Oh, Sara, zees zoup is vonderful!” “Really?” Sara beamed at him and then at Aelwyl for quick approval. “Yes, zome of the best I’ve ever had. You really never zeace to zurprise me.” “It is quite good, Sara,” Aelwyl said in a quiet but honest tone. “What do you think of the bread?” the young Wood Elf asked, ignoring her godmother. “Is delicious as vell! Very zweet and fluffy. Is . . . Dwarfish, no?” “That’s right. I’ve known the recipe since I was little.” “Yes, I taught it to you,” said Aelwyl, acknowledging her own existence. “Ah, zo you are zee one whom I need to thank.” “You’re most welcome, Dr. Heim,” Aelwyl maintained her intense observation of their guest. “Here!” Sara shoved a bowl of fresh fruit in front of Dr. Heim. “Try these! I picked them myself.” “Saranaea,” Aelwyl said as politely but sternly as possible, “please – manners in front of our guest.” Sara looked away and blushed. “Oh, is okay. I vas looking to try zees red berries, anyvay. Zey look delicious.” Dr. Heim picked up a large, bright red fruit, shaped vaguely like a cherry. “It’s called a fireberry,” Aelwyl said, plucking one from the bowl for herself, “they are native only to the woods around Kelethin, which is why they are so rare.” Dr. Heim took a large bite of the fireberry, stopping briefly to wipe off some of the juice that had dribbled down his chin. “Mmmmm, fabulous.” Dinner continued for a while with the conversation wandering on a wide range of topics. Sara just sat back silently and basked in the moment – to her, it was almost like sitting down to a real family dinner. As the conversation waned, Aelwyl asked, “So, Dr. Heim, I know of you only in passing. Where in Antonica do you hail from?” “From Freeport. North Freeport, to be zpecific.” “Ah yes, Freeport,” Aelwyl sank briefly back into memory. “It has been many ages since I last set foot there.” “Oh, you vould not like it now, no no. Is dirty and crowded, and noisy. Lucky for me, I only vork there. I live just outside of zee city in Halsburg. I vork zo much tho, zat I may as vell zay I come from there.” “Halsburg?” Aelwyl lifted an inquisitive eyebrow . “Yes, is fairly new, vell . . . new by your ztandards, I mean – vas founded about two hundred years or zo ago. Mostly Humans only. Very zad zat ve ztill do not trust other races as ve should. Is a lot better now zhen it used to be, but ztill . . .” “Tolerance is not an easy lesson to learn,” Aelwyl nodded slowly. “No,” Dr. Heim agreed, “no zadly it is not.” He met Aelwyl’s eyes and smiled; the hierophant met his gaze and smiled back. “More fruit?” Sara suddenly broke the moment. “Oh no, Sara,” Dr. Heim sank back into his chair and patted his stomach with a sigh. “I could not possible eat another bite. I think I need to go back to my hut and zleep for zee night.” Everyone stood and escorted the doctor to the door. “Sara,” Dr. Heim crouched down and hugged his new friend. “I had much fun vith you today. Tomorrow, I go finish zome zings vith zee Healer’s Guild, and zhen I go back home.” Sara’s heart suddenly sank like a sword dropped into a pool of water. “But, before I go, I vill visit you to zay goodbye. And maybe one day zoon ve zee each other again, no?” He stood to address Aelwyl, as Sara fought back the urge to cry. “M’Lady Aelwyl,” again he took the elder druid’s hand and kissed it, “it vas most enchanting to finally meet you. Sara has a vonderful godmother, and I’m zure vith you to guide her, she vill grow to be a ztrong voman.” “Thank you again for joining us, Dr. Heim,” Aelwyl said in her continued warm tone. “I’m glad Sara asked you here tonight.” “Yes, me too . . . vell, I really must go now, goodnight to you.” The doctor took his leave, and Sara could not hold back any longer. “Sara? What’s wrong?” “I don’t – I don’t want him to go,” said Sara through the tears. “Oh, Sara,” Aelwyl embraced her goddaughter. “You just met the man today. You barely know him.” “I know. But he’s the nicest man I’ve ever met. And when we were all eating dinner, it was almost like . . . like . . .” “Like family?” Aelwyl completed her sentence. Sara couldn’t speak, she just simply nodded. “Well, family is a very serious thing, Sara, and we must be very careful about whom we choose to consider part of it. Dr. Heim seems like a wonderful man. But we just don’t know him well enough. I’ll tell you what, we’ll sleep on it, okay? When Dr. Heim comes back in the morning, we’ll see how we still feel.” Sara conjured up a weak smile and agreed. Already, she could feel the weight of the past day and the night’s tears wearing on her; yawning widely, she slunk off to bed. As consciousness sprang back into Sara, like a great fire suddenly setting itself ablaze, the thought of seeing Dr. Heim shook all remnants of sleep away from her. She walked hurriedly into the kitchen and grabbed an apple for her breakfast, but she was too anxious to eat. Their meeting would be bittersweet. On one hand, seeing the doctor again would please her very much, yet on the other, she knew he was leaving Kelethin indefinitely, and she was sure that “indefinitely” really meant “forever.” Despite this, what Aelwyl said to her the night before still hung in her head – family is a very serious thing, and we must be very careful about whom we choose to consider part of it. But to Sara, Dr. Heim did feel like family. He had been in her life for only a day, and it already felt like a century. “Good morning,” Aelwyl greeted her goddaughter. “Not hungry, I see?” Sara just shook her head glumly. “It’ll be okay, Sara. Really. Norrath is a much smaller place now. The trip from here to Freeport is as simple as stepping through a portal. I’m sure Dr. Heim can arrange visits here with ease.” “Just not the same,” Sara said quietly, almost mumbling. “He’s still half a world away.” Aelwyl reached over and patted Sara’s shoulder gently. “He has his own life to lead, Sara, just as we all do. As close as you feel to him, he’s still a visitor, a guest.” Sara looked slowly up at her godmother’s serenely smiling face. “But I – we are family.” There was a knock at the door, and Sara’s heart jumped. The door was opened, and there stood a beaming Dr. Heim. “Sara! Just zee young voman I vanted to zee! How are you feeling today?” “Erm, okay I guess. Just kinda . . . sad.” “Ohhh, no,” Sr. Heim crouched down to Sara’s eye level and hugged her tightly. “Don’t be zad, child. I come visit you every chance I get.” He suddenly felt warm tears drop on his shoulder. Sara pulled away and said with a small hint of renewed joy, “You promise?” “Oh, of course. Doctor Karl Zweiduschletsberg Heimelstratsberger alvays keeps his promises.” Aelwyl emerged from the kitchen, smiling warmly at Dr. Heim as she approached. “Oooh, and of course zee ever lovely Aelwyl.” Dr. Heim embraced the hierophant, who in turn kissed him gently on the cheek. The doctor laughed quietly and blushed before turning to the door. Just outside, an aide to the Healer’s Guild had several travel packs slung over his shoulder; beside him, a druid also stood patiently, no doubt there to provide travel to the nearest translocation gate. “Vell,” Dr. Heim said with a deep sigh. “As much as I hate to do it, I really must go. Sara, you be ztrong and good for your godmother vhile I am gone?” “Yes, I promise.” Sara flung her arms around Dr. Heim’s legs and held tight. She did not want to let go, not until the pain of separation left her. Even the doctor himself, at the sight of the young Wood Elf, felt a warm rush of sadness overtake him. “Sara . . .” Aelwyl grasped her goddaughter’s shoulder and coaxed her away. “Dr. Heim really must return now. Remember what I told you before.” This comment suddenly sparked an interesting idea. Yes, yes she did indeed remember what Aelwyl had told her. “Dr. Heim,” his druid companion began, “are you ready to go?” “Yes, I zuppose. Vhenever you are –“ “I could go with you!” Sara’s words leapt from her mouth like a dolphin from the calm surface of an ocean. All present stopped and stared down in awe at the young Feir'Dal. “Sara!” Aelwyl gasped, genuinely taken aback. “Dr. Heim, would you be so kind as to wait a moment while I speak with my goddaughter inside?” “Oh, ummm, yes yes, of course.” Aelwyl pulled Sara inside and shut the door. “Sara, what are you saying?” “It’s like you said, Aelwyl, the world is much smaller now. People can take portals and be anywhere in an instant.” “Yes, but . . . Sara, this is Freeport we are talking about. It is nothing like Kelethin. There are thousands of people from all different races, all different moral codes, all different loyalties. Besides, I never told you this, Sara, but last night I looked as far as I could into Dr. Heim’s soul. He is indeed a kind, charming, and . . . quite handsome man. But I also saw something buried deep within him – something he wants to keep buried. He’s hiding something, Sara. Something very important, very serious.” Sara stood still and quiet for several moments, absorbing what her godmother had just told her. After convincing herself that whatever lay buried was not a concern, she continued, “Please, Aelwyl. I’ll be careful, and it will only be a month – just long enough to see some of Antonica. I don’t even have to go in Freeport. I’ll come back and never ask to go anywhere else again, I promise.” Aelwyl sighed and her faint smile slowly returned. “Well . . .” “Please, Aelwyl. I can’t stay here forever. I want to get away for a little while. It’s only a month.” “I always knew that one day you would leave here, but I never expected this young, and this . . . far away.” The hierophant let out a long sigh of resignation and slowly nodded her head, “alright, but! Sara jumped up and down as if standing on burning embers. “We must ask Dr. Heim what he thinks first. He may not even want you to.” “Oh, I think he will! I just know he will!” Aelwyl and Sara returned outside, where the young Wood Elf continued to jump up and down around the doctor. “Vhat – vhat is happening here?” Dr. Heim looked around with a confused laugh. “Saranaea and I have come to an agreement,” Aelwyl said in her typical placid, confident tone. “We have agreed to give her the chance to stay under your care for one month’s time, as long as you are willing, and are able to assure me that no harm will come to her.” Dr. Heim suddenly looked as if he had been asked to address the gods themselves. “Oh my! Vell, zees is quite zudden indeed.” “This is purely your decision, and if you do not wish to agree to this arrangement, it is perfectly understandable.” The doctor looked down at the giddy Sara, who was absolutely beaming up at him, almost as if chanting a silent please please please please please . . . “Vell, I zuppose a little company vouldn’t hurt, but . . .” Sara looked as though she were about to faint; she held her breath and put the world on pause. “Alright! Sara can come.” The young Wood Elf exploded with a shriek of delight and a flurry of hugs. “Thank you, Dr. Heim! I promise I won’t be any trouble!” “As long as you cook me zome of zat zoup ve had last night, you can ztay forever.” He looked up to Aelwyl and winked playfully. “Well,” said Aelwyl in a pleased sigh, “Now that that is settled, I think it only appropriate that I escort you two to the Faydark portal.” She turned to her fellow druid. “If you do not mind, that is.” “Of course not, M’Lady,” the druid bowed in honored concession. “Well then, I dare say we are all ready?” Sara held onto Aelwyl’s and Dr. Heim’s hand as her godmother summoned the great winds. A portal of highly concentrated air opened around the four for a brief moment, and then swallowed them all whole. (To Be Continued . . .)

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 03:28 PM

(WARNING: This section contains some mature content!) Chapter 6: Azellia the Dark Minded Korus deMuin sat facing the open veranda window; cool evening air gently meandered in, chilling the warm rush that the red, elven wine gave him. Korus inhaled the wine’s fruity fragrance as he swished it around in its glass. “Elven red wine – no finer drink exists on the face of Norrath. Fancy a taste, Fen Tzu?” Fen Tzu looked down at the glass a brief moment and replied with a flat, “No.” “Ah yes, but of course. You don’t drink; you don’t dance; you don’t laugh.” Lord deMuin gave a quick glance up and over his shoulder at his associate. “You really should start enjoying the fruits of life. Such as a beautiful, cool night, or a delicious glass of wine . . .” A short distance away, the sound of a door opening interrupted Korus’s musings; a Dark Elf woman emerged. “Ah,” deMuin stood, letting his robe fall open to reveal his bare chest, “and speaking of life’s finer things . . . Azellia, my dear, so pleased that you’ve joined us this fine evening.” Azellia pushed aside a strand of her ivory hair and greeted Korus with a seductive smile. She pulled apart the division of her sea blue robe, exposing her supple breasts; she let the rest of the robe fall from her as she walked up to Korus. Running an index finger softly down the center of her lover’s chest, Azellia looked up at Korus and began kissing his neck. “The nude female form – no artistic masterpiece on Norrath could possibly compare to its perfection.” Korus placed his hand on Azellia’s neck and traced it along every contour of her body, causing her to sigh in pleasure as his warm palms passed over her breasts. He then turned to Fen Tzu, who stood motionless. “Tell me, Fen Tzu, do you feel anything by seeing this work of art? The slightest twinge of excitement? A glimmer of lust? The urge to reach out and caress her smooth skin as I do now?” Azellia’s image rippled and shimmered slightly as her form suddenly became that of a Human. She walked over to Fen Tzu with a devilish smirk and pressed her body to his. “She can be anything you want her to be.” Lord deMuin laughed quietly, watching the enchantress rhythmically rub her body against Fen Tzu’s. “No, M’Lord,” Fen Tzu replied coolly as Azellia worked herself into a frenzy. “I feel only complete peace and understanding.” “Indeed,” deMuin walked up to Azellia and touched her cheek with his fingertips. She broke away from Fen Tzu and returned to her normal Dark Elf form; she firmly took Korus’s hand, pulling him in the direction of his bedchamber. “Ah, well it appears Azellia is informing me that it’s time for us to retire for the evening. You may take your leave, Fen Tzu. Please summon Magzug here in the morning, we have much to discuss.” Fen Tzu bowed and watched Azellia and Korus disappear into an adjoining room, before taking leave himself. (To Be Continued . . . )

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 03:34 PM

Chapter 7: Culture Shock The instant that the tranquil world of Kelethin dissolved into the bustling world of Freeport, Sara felt as if she would be washed away in the flowing stream of people; Humans, Elves, Ogres, Barbarians -- the races she had always heard of, but never actually seen – all could be observed going about their business. The young Wood Elf just stood and marveled at all of the different faces and languages sweeping past her like a gigantic, animated mosaic. “Okay,” Dr. Heim held fast to her small hand and lead her through a gap in the crowd. “Now Sara, is just a short valk to Halsburg. In fact, you can zee it zere, vith zee low, ztone vall.” Sara squinted and peered through the momentary gaps of the crowd around her; about a quarter of a mile away, a cream colored stone wall enclosed a small collection of buildings. “It looks . . . quaint, “ Sara forced a compliment in the shadow of Freeport’s overwhelming majesty. “Oh, yes, vell, is no Freeport, but is home. Anyvay, I zhow you zee city later. For now, ve must hurry to my house, zomeone vill be coming to drop off your things.” Dr. Heim hurried Sara through the rivulets of traders, common folk, adventures, and thieves until they were at last on the narrow, cobbled road leading to Halsburg. The first thing that Sara sensed upon passing through the stone archway of Dr. Heim’s hometown was the warm scent of freshly baked bread. It was a good introduction, as it made the young Wood Elf feel immediately at home, instead of a distant, foreign land. The design of the houses were simple, yet pleasant; Sara could tell that its citizens were not affluent, yet from the few scenes she witnessed while walking toward Dr. Heim’s house, they seemed content with their simple lives. “Okay, here ve are.” They approached the door of a small, dark gray stone house. The stone itself was slightly worn, and the wood comprising the front door bore worm tracts, giving it the appearance of ancient, haphazardly veined skin. Once inside, however, Sara found Dr. Heim’s home to be clean and neatly ordered. “I hope you are comfortable here, Sara. I know is not zee treetops of Kelethin, but is clean.” “I like it,” said Sara as she ogled at the various mysterious instruments placed upon bookshelves and tables in the cozy-looking common room. “Erm, what are all these . . . things?” “Oh, zose?” Dr. Heim waved his hand dismissively. “Zey are just zome instruments I use for my ztudies. Not to zound rude, but please try not to touch zem, zey are very fragile and very expensive.” “Okay, I promise. Now,” Sara playfully spun through the room toward Dr. Heim, “what fun things are we going to do? I’m here for a whole month, and there’s so much I want to see.” “Vell, of course I show you around Freeport tomorrow. After zat, vell, veel zee. Zat reminds me, however.” Dr. Heim reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, copper-colored pocket watch. “Oh, your belongings vill be arriving here any moment. I must go back to zee portal and help bring zem in. I be back in less zen an hour, okay? Vhen I get back, ve’ll all zit down and eat together.” “Ok.” “Oh, and zo you are not bored, I have many books. I’m afraid zey aren’t very exciting, but zey are zere anyvay.” “That’s fine. I like all kinds of books.” “Very vell, then. I be back zoon!” Dr. Heim left, leaving Sara to peruse the three, large bookshelves her host had crammed full of tomes on a wide array of subjects. Although she struggled with some of the Common Tongue titles, Sara skimmed past such subjects as Astronomy, The Eradication and Punishment of Pirates, and a plethora of books on the arcane arts, before finally settled on a large, burgandy covered volume called Lost Dungeons of Norrath Re-Discovered: An Illustrated Guide, written in both Common and Elvish. No more than fifteen minutes had passed before there came a knock on the door. Not expecting Dr. Heim back for at least another half and hour, Sara cautiously walked toward the door. “Ord?” a man’s voice called from the other side. “You there?” Taking a breath, Sara opened the door just a crack and peeked up at the visitor. There stood a tall, somewhat gaunt man with thin black hair that hung down to his shoulders; he looked slightly younger than Dr. Heim, and appeared slightly nervous. Sensing that the door had opened, the stranger looked down and saw Sara’s small, brown eyes looking back up at him. He gave a look of surprise and curiosity at the young Feir’Dal before saying, “Oh, um, hello. Sorry, I was looking for . . . Dr. Heim. Have you seen him?” Still not feeling comfortable enough to speak, Sara nodded. “Is he here?” “N-no,” Sara managed to say quietly. “It’s okay, child, I’m a friend of his. My name’s Dr. Valdin, what’s yours?” “Saranaea, but you can call me Sara.” “Saranaea – that’s a pretty name. You’re from Kelethin?” “Yes. I’m staying with Dr. Heim for a month.” “Oh, well, that’s . . . nice.” For a brief moment, Dr. Valdin’s face took on a look of concern, but was quickly chased away with a forced smile. “Anyway, Sara, could you please tell Dr. Heim that I was here? He’ll know where to find me.” “Of course. It was nice meeting you.” “You, too, Sara. Good evening.” Sara watched Dr. Valdin disappear around the corner house before finally closing the door. After the chapter on Miragul's Menagerie in the Lost Dungeons book, Sara’s attention began to wander. Just as she closed the book to put it back on the shelf, the front door opened and in stepped Dr. Heim, accompanied by a familiar figure. “Aelwyl!” Sara jumped up from her chair and ran into her godmother’s arms as Dr. Heim carried Sara’s belongings into his guest room. “Hello, Sara. We never got to say farewell back in Kelethin, so I thought I’d do so by bringing your clothes that you forgot.” “Sorry,” Sara blushed a little, “I guess I was just so excited.” “It’s alright.” Aelwyl smiled. “How do you like it here?” “Well, I just got here about an hour ago, but it’s nice. In a weird sort of way, it reminds me a lot of home. Oh, and Dr. Heim has a lot of strange books and instruments.” “Vich are ztill off-limits,” Dr. Heim replied as he walked back into the room. “Yes, now Sara, you will be on your best behavior for Dr. Heim, won’t you?” “Yes, Aelwyl, of course.” Aelwyl shot a sideways glance to make sure Dr. Heim was out of earshot before saying quietly in their native Feir’Dal tongue, “You remember what I told you yesterday?” Sara nodded. “If you get into any trouble, you seek me out immediately, okay?” “Okay.” “Ah, but zere von’t be any trouble, M’Lady, I can promise you zat.” Aelwyl turned in surprise as Dr. Heim stood smiling behind them. “Well,” Aelwyl stood to face Dr. Heim with a bit of pleasant shock, “I didn’t know you spoke the language of my people.” “Oh, is nothing. Vhen you are called upon to travel zee vorld, you pick up a few languages here and zere. Now, M’Lady Aelwyl,” Dr. Heim reassuringly took Aelwyl’s hands in his, “I svear to you zat no harm vill come to Sara. Zis is a zafe town, and I vill alvays be vith her vhen she goes into Freeport.” “I’m glad to hear that she’s in capable hands.” Aelwyl smiled intently up at Dr. Heim and gently rubbed the tops of his hands with her thumb. Sara cleared her throat loudly and said, “Wow you hear that? My stomach’s really growling.” “Yes, yes.” Dr. Heim and Aelwyl broke away quickly. “Mine, too. Here, I make you both zomething delicious from Antonica. After all, is only fair after your fine meal.” Dr. Heim rustled through his pantry cupboards, pulling out various ingredients. “You’ll have to forgive me, is zo rare zat I have visitors zat I don’t keep my food at zee ready.” “Ah!” Sara suddenly remembered. “That reminds me. Dr. Heim, you had a visitor while you were out.” Dr. Heim suddenly stopped and looked at Sara intently. “Oh? Who vas it?” “He said his name was Dr. Valdin. He looked like he had something really important to tell you, but he just told me to tell you that he stopped by, and that you’d know where to find him.” “Ah, yes,” Dr. Heim continued rifling through his cupboards. “Dr. Valdin is a colleague of mine. Ve help each other vith problems at vork zometimes. Very nice man, he is.” “Yeah, he seemed it, except . . . before I opened the door, he called for someone named . . . Ord I think it was?” Dr. Heim stopped for a brief moment again, forcing himself to quickly regain his composure. “Yes, Ord is, vell, my nickname, you zee.” “Nickname?” “A second, informal name,” Aelwyl explained. “Usually something your friends call you.” “Oooh.” Sara chuckled and muttered “Ord” under her breath. “Sara,” Aelwyl admonished her goddaughter quietly. “Oh, is okay. I’m used to it by now, you could zay. Erm, Sara, vould you care to help me vith zee cooking, please?” Aelwyl eyed Dr. Heim suspiciously for a moment before wandering over to one of his many bookshelves. After several minutes of browsing the titles, Aelwyl happened upon a particular title that caught her interest – The Wonderful Inventions of Ecbus Gearthumbs. With a smile of familiarity and comforting memories, Aelwyl sat and thumbed through the pages of the books, scanning past various mechanical drawings of Gnomish inventions, finally stopping upon a full-page drawing of Ecbus himself. She gave a soft, happy sigh and smiled. “What is that?” Sara asked, approaching her godmother. “Sara, do you remember those stories I would tell you of my adventures with Heldorm and the others?” “Yes, of course I remember.” “Well,” Aelwyl turned the picture on the page toward her goddaughter. “This is Ecbus Gearthumbs, one of my companions back then. This is a very good likeness of him, too.” Sara looked over the lead and ink portrait of an aged Gnome, tiny spectacles resting low on his nose, long white hair running down the back of a decorative robe. “Wow, he looks old there.” “He lived to be fairly elderly, around one hundred years, as I recall.” “A hundred is elderly?” “For non-Elves it is, yes.” “You knew Ecbus Gearthumbs?” Dr. Heim asked from in the kitchen. “Yes, we traveled together many ages ago.” “Amazing! Ecbus is responsible for many of zee instruments you zee here. He is quite revered in zee arcane field.” “Dr. Heim, are you sure these instruments all work properly?” Aelwyl asked with a playful grin. “Oh yes, quite vell,” the doctor shot a curious look. “Vhy do you ask?” “Oh, no reason. Let’s just say, Ecbus was not always known for his finely-crafted items.” For a long moment, Aelwyl thought fondly back to her adventuring days nearly a millennium ago before closing the book and replacing it on the shelf. Dinner was served – a meal of peppered vegetable stew, sourdough bread, and fruit juice. “Dr. Heim, this meal is superb,” Aelwyl said after swallowing a delicious spoonful of stew. “How do you keep such fresh food in your home?” “Vell, I can’t give avay all my zecrets. But zuffice to zay, zey are coming out vith amazing new technologies almost every day.” “Technology?” Sara asked, suddenly intrigued. “Think of it as kind of magic vithout magic.” Sara furrowed her brow and looked to Aelwyl. “It’s . . . complicated,” Aelwyl struggled for words of explanation. “Instead of using the arcane or natural forces to do everyday things, objects are crafted to do them for you without magic.” “Like Gnomish inventions?” “Sort of, yes. But even many Gnomish devices use magic to power them. The new technologies Humans are inventing, if I’m not mistaken, are magic-free.” “Yes, zat is true,” Dr. Heim replied. “Zese are exciting times. Vhy, vhen I vas a boy, ve had almost nothing like ve do now. Zhey just make life zo much easier.” “I’m just afraid at what cost, Dr. Heim. There is nothing wrong with making life easier, but all of this new learning and invention is coming on so quickly. It all just seems so unnatural.” “Oh, nonsense. Is completely harmless.” “I wonder if Wendalyn thinks it’s harmless,” retorted Sara so suddenly, that she could scarcely believe she had said it in the first place. “Saranaea . . .” Aelwyl looked over at her goddaughter, almost horrified. “No, no, she is right,” Dr. Heim said with a smile of admiration. “Vhatever vas used to kill zat poor girl vas zertainly not harmless, zo I ztand corrected.” He took another, almost contemplative look at Sara, before finishing his meal. Aelwyl leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Well, that certainly was one of the finest meals I’ve had in quite a while, Dr. Heim. Thank you for that.” “Oh, you are most velcome. But, before you leave, I must share vith you one last treat from Antonica.” Dr. Heim finished clearing the table and opened a large, chest-like container in the kitchen. A brief wisp of steam arose from the chest, before being shut again with a hollow thump. “Zince you vere zo kind to share vith me your fireberries, I have made a zpecial desert for you as vell.” The doctor brought a cylindrical metal canister into the dining area, opened it, and, using a large wooden ladle, scooped its contents into three fresh bowls. “What is it?” Sara asked, eyeing the cold, light brown hump that steamed in the much warmer air. “Is called 'iced cream.' Go on, try it, is very sveet.” Sara and Aelwyl glanced at each other briefly before resigning and scooping up a spoonful of the iced desert. The moment the confection hit their tongues, however, both Feir’Dal looked at each other, eyes wide. “Dr. Heim, this is absolutely heavenly!” Aelwyl let the iced cream melt on her tongue, tasting every sweet ounce of it, before letting it roll down her throat. “Yeah!” Sara said excitedly, graciously eating another heaping spoonful. “What is it made of?” “You know, I’m not sure exactly – zee Barbarians invented it, vhich is not zurprising, considering vhere they live. Cream, sugar, milk, among other things. But, who cares? Is delicious, yes?” “It is beyond that,” Aelwyl savored another bite of the blissful concoction. The iced cream was finished, the empty dishes were set aside, and it was time for Aelwyl to take her leave. As excited as Sara was to begin her stay with Dr. Heim, she still felt a twinge of sadness seeing her godmother go. “Alright then, Sara, I’ll see you in a month,” said Aelwyl as she embraced her goddaughter. “Okay. I’ll stay out of trouble, I swear.” “I know you will, my child, I know you will. I might not have given you this impression, but I really do think this is a great opportunity for you. As much as I would like to, I can’t keep you sheltered in Kelethin forever. You need to spread your wings and explore life.” The hierophant stopped and suddenly looked at Sara with a bewildered look. “What is it, Aelwyl?” “Nothing,” she replied, snapping out of her short trance, “you just . . . reminded me of myself at your age – full of questions and wanderlust. Well, I really should be going now.” Aelwyl turned to Dr. Heim and put on her usual warmhearted smile. “Dr. Heim, I wish to thank you again for being so kind and taking Sara in on such short notice. I think she’s in excellent hands.” The Wood Elf placed her hand on the doctor’s cheek and lifted herself up to give him a short, soft kiss on his lips. “Oh my,” Dr. Heim laughed nervously and blushed, “vell, thank you. And I promise again zat no harm vill come to her vhile she is vith me.” Aelwyl departed, leaving Dr. Heim and Sara to prepare for bed. “Vell, I for one am exhausted, Sara. Besides, ve have a big day tomorrow – I have zo much to show you, but I think it vill be fun.” Sara yawned widely and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I’m tired, too. I think I ate too much.” The doctor showed her to the guest bedroom, where, almost immediately upon hitting the pillow, his young guest fell into a peaceful sleep. Dr. Heim began to walk out, but stopped at the doorway and turned to observe Sara’s slumbering form, as if searching for something. After a few moments, the doctor gave up his search and, with a wave of his hand, extinguished the guest room lights. (To Be Continued . . .)

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 03:49 PM

Chapter 8: The Best Laid Plans Lord Korus deMuin sat patiently at his long, wooden dining table, flanked by Azellia and Fen Tzu. The door suddenly swung open, and the enormous form of Magzug stepped inside. “Ah, Magzug,” deMuin leaned forward in his chair. “Good, now we can begin.” Magzug and Azellia took their seats as deMuin stood. He had long since learned the futility of asking Fen Tzu to sit, so he continued with the purpose of his meeting. Reaching under the table where he had been seated, Korus produced a long brown and silver object and set it on the table with a loud clank. The object was about five feet in length, consisting of a lenghty, hollowed-out metallic tube, sheathed in dark wood that formed a crooked arm-like segment in the rear; on the underside of the object, where the arm-like protrusion met the tube, was a small, crescent-shaped piece of metal; at the top of the object, jutting out from the back end of the tube, was a metallic “arch,” resting on top of a tiny, empty pan. “Some of you among us already know what this is.” Korus’s eyes briefly wandered over to Fen Tzu. “But for those who do not, you are looking at the future. The sword, the bow, the mace – all children’s toys compared to the instrument you see before you.” Lord deMuin smiled and ran his hands gently over the wooden skin of the object. “No, it is far more than a mere object, it’s a work of art, deserving our deepest respect.” Magzug eyed Korus and asked sarcastically, “Erm, you two need some time alone dere?” Korus looked up at the Troll and snapped out of his digression. “Oh, forgive me, I do let works of great beauty distract me from time to time.” His eyes met Azellia, who smiled deviously back. “But yes, I digress . . .” Korus picked up the object and turned it over in his hands. “This instrument will change the course of history. Everything all races do from this point on will be judged by the actions of this simple creation – wood, steel, and powder. Ingenious really.” “How can a big stick change da world?” “Ah!” deMuin set his prized possession down and stepped toward the Troll exuberantly. “Think about it, Magzug. Every culture on this planet has been shaped in some way by warfare. For better or worse, mostly for better, the weapons we use to wage these wars determine how our lives and the lives of our children are lived. Swords and arrows are so archaic, so . . . barbaric. But this weapon – clean, fast, and relatively painless. Equip the armies of Norrath with these, and the balance of power will be equal for the first time in this world’s history.” Magzug let out a low hmmm before asking, “What’s yer angle?” “Petition the governments of every race on Norrath. Offer these new weapons to them – for a modest price, of course. Meanwhile, I – forgive me, we control the supply of arms, which just so happens to make us very, very rich.” A wide, mostly toothless grin stretched across Magzug’s green, wart-covered face. “Me likes dat plan.” “I thought you would,” replied deMuin, smirking in self-satisfaction. “If Bron’s skill holds true, we should have fifty more of these within a fortnight – enough to make an effective display for our future clients. After that, assuming all goes as planned, every blade and bow in Norrath will be replaced by the year’s end.” “A bit ambitious, wouldn’t you say?” Azellia asked coolly. “Faith, my dear,” deMuin replied, touching the Dark Elf’s cheek with his fingertips, ”faith. My Dwarven smith is quite the worker bee, and if there’s one thing Dwarves love more than smithing, it’s money; and I can assure you, I have plenty of that.” “So what we do now?” asked Magzug, running a finger across the cool barrel of the weapon. “Now,” deMuin sighed as he sank back into his chair. “We wait – two weeks. When my order in Kaladim is done, we begin our little campaign. Oh, and I must ask that none of you let word of this out. We wouldn’t want someone stealing the platinum out from under us, now would we?” The meeting was adjourned, leaving Azellia and Korus alone. “That was a most rousing speech, My Lord.” The enchantress leaned in and kissed her lover. “Was it now? I only hope I can be as persuasive when I present my offer to Norrath’s leaders.” “I’m sure you will, my love. And of course, once we are married, I’m sure this will allow you to take care of my . . . needs?” Korus chuckled. “Do I not pleasure you now, my dear?” “Not those needs; you excel at that. I mean my financial needs. I’ve grown quite accustomed to this lifestyle, and I would need a man who could assure me of its continuation.” “Azellia, you are such the gold-digging wench.” Azellia laughed and intensified her affections toward deMuin. “Oh, Korus, my love – you flatter me.” (To Be Continued . . .)

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 03:59 PM

Chapter 9: The Muse of North Freeport Sara could hardly think of eating any of the fruit laid before her for breakfast. She was going to see Freeport today – all of its tall buildings; all of its people; all of its history. Her entire life, the only city she knew was Kelethin and its secluded, sheltering trees. For all of its connection with nature, the Feir’Dal capital could not offer the one thing Sara craved the most – the chance to see life in its most natural state. “Now Sara,” Dr. Heim instructed as his young guest and he walked the stone path leading into the city, “Freeport is a big place, and zere are many people there. You must ztay vith me at all times. If ve vere to get zeperated . . .” He waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing the mere thought of this situation away. “I know,” Sara sighed, “I’ll stay with you.” “Good. Now, vhen ve get to zee northern part of zee zity, I show you vhere I vork. I need to ztop by zhere anyvay. I owe Dr. Valdin a visit.” The same overwhelming waves of xenophobia that greeted her upon arriving at Freeport, crashed over Sara as she once again passed representatives of almost every race on Norrath. As Dr. Heim and she passed through the West Freeport gates, a huge, pale shape caught the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw an Ogre adjusting countless jars of various food-like items. “Who is that?” Sara asked, pointing at the lumbering merchant. “Oh, zat’s just Boomba zee Big. His family has been zelling zhere for many generations. He has many fine pickled zings for zale. Maybe I zwing by zhere later and pick up zomething.” After seeing the contents of one of the jars squirming upon her departure, however, Sara suggested against this idea. The day continued with Dr. Heim showing Sara almost every nook and cranny of Freeport – from the staunch, spartan halls of the Militia House, to the salty, bustling docks in the eastern district, all the way to the serene grandeur of Mithaniel Marr’s Temple. “Now Sara,” Dr. Heim began as he led his young guest toward the center of the northern district, “before ve go anyvhere else, I must ztop by my vork and talk to Dr. Valdin. I’m afraid zey do not really allow outsiders too far inside, zo you vill have to zit in zee foyer, okay?” “That’s fine,” Sara responded somewhat disappointed. She had really hoped to see where Dr. Heim worked, but she knew he, like Aelwyl, was only trying to keep her out of trouble. Weaving their way through the city streets, they finally reached a narrow, gray stone building, perpendicular to a large, bright blue structure bearing a sign painted to look like a musical note. “What’s that place?” “Zat’s Marsheart’s Chords. Bards and troubadours from all over zee vorld come here to perform. Is really quite famous. But come now, I don’t vant to keep Dr. Valdin vaiting for too long.” The interior of the gray building reminded Sara very much of that of the Healer’s Guild in Kelethin – a public area just inside the entrance, separated from everything else by a large set of doors – except these doors had small, frosted windows in each. As soon as Dr. Heim walked through the doors, Sara took a quick glance around and peeked through one of the windows into the room beyond. Through the frosted glass, she could see the distorted form of Dr. Heim approach whom Sara assumed to be Dr. Valdin, and begin talking to him. Blocking as much of the outside noise as she could, Sara listened intently to the muffled conversation. Perhaps it was the effect of their voices being filtered through the thick doors, but Sara could swear that Dr. Heim's voices seemed different in some way. She struggled to listen more closely, but before she could investigate further, the front door to the building suddenly opened. Sara shot like an arrow from the windowed doors to an inconspicuous spot on one of the foyer's long benchs, closer to the door. From the outside, there emerged an attractive Human woman with long, dark brown hair and sky blue eyes. “Well, hello there!” The woman smiled, unprepared for Sara’s presence. “Hi,” Sara responded somewhat shyly. “Are you waiting for someone in there?” “Yes, Dr. Heim.” “Oh?” The woman furrowed her brow slightly for a moment before continuing, “I’m Cygna. What’s your name?” “Saranaea.” “Wow, that’s a pretty name. You’re from Kelethin, I assume?” “Yes, I’m staying with Dr. Heim for a month. He’s going to show me around Antonica.” Cygna laughed. “All around Antonica? It’s a big place, you know.” “I know. But we have a whole month, and the portals are fast.” Their conversation was interrupted by the emergence of Dr. Heim and Dr. Valdin. Upon seeing each other, Valdin and Cygna embraced and kissed. “Wow, you two are married?” Sara asked. Dr. Valdin, upon finally realizing Sara’s presence, looked suddenly over at Dr. Heim. “You brought her here, Ord?” “Um, vell, yes, of course. I mean, ve vere out and about.” “Dr. Heim,” Valdin motioned his colleague to a far corner, “a word with you, please.” Sara tried to listen in on their hushed conversation, but Cygna interrupted her. “So, Sara, what’s Kelethin like? I hear it’s very pretty.” “Yeah, I guess,” Sara shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve seen it my whole life, though. It’s just kind of like . . . home, ya know?” “I’d very much like to go one day. Perhaps, you can show me around sometime.” “Maybe. But I’m in no hurry to leave here. I love it!” Cygna laughed. “Give it a week, dear. Trust me, you’ll be wanting to wash the city out of your hair by then.” There was something about Cygna that Sara felt overpowered by; it was the same feeling that overcame her when she was near Dr. Heim. It was as if some nameless force, pushed back into the recesses of reality, just out of sight, blessed the Humans with a calming attraction. It wasn’t a scary feeling, quite the opposite – what Sara felt was warmth and kindness. From outside, there came a sudden, excited burst of chatter and high-pitched laughter. As the unmistakable sound of lute strings being strummed filled the air, Sara and Cygna were already stepping outside to find the source of the commotion. Just outside the entrance of Marsheart’s Chords, a gaggle of young women were clustered, talking and laughing among themselves. The crowd soon parted, revealing a young, blonde-haired man, that, from her distance, appeared to be around Sara’s age in Human years. The young man was dressed head-to-toe in blue, shining chain mail, with a crimson cloak draped across his back. “Wow, who is that?” Sara asked Cygna, just as Dr. Heim and Dr. Valdin joined them. “That’s Redd Bluetone. He’s new to Freeport, but, as you can see, he’s got quite the following already.” Redd happened a glance in Sara’s direction, and, upon meeting her gaze, smiled at her with a wink. Sara blushed and looked quickly away. “He’s pretty cute.” “Yes,” agreed Cygna, “he certainly is quite dashing.” “Oh really?” Valdin asked sarcastically. Cygna jumped slightly, unaware that her lover had joined them. “Erm, well, I mean if you are into younger men, of course.” “Hmph, indeed.” Sara and Cygna smirked at each other before turning back to watch Redd. After the bard finished his song, he took a random girl’s hand and kissed it gently. The lucky lady swooned as several of those around her thought they may have to catch her, should she suddenly faint. Moments later, Redd unexpectedly began to walk in Sara’s direction. “He’s coming over here,” the flustered Wood Elf whispered to Cygna. “Why’s he doing that?” “Hmm, perhaps ve should leave Sara to talk her new friend in private,” proposed Dr. Heim. “I think that is an excellent idea, Dr. Heim. Come now, dear, we should find a place to dine.” “But!” Sara watched embarrassedly as her companions departed, leaving her standing alone with the newly arrived Redd Bluetone. “Well, hello there, my dear.” Redd took Sara’s hand and kissed it as he had done the girl before. “And what brings a pretty young elf such as yourself to this fair city?” “Umm, well, I’m erm, visiting a friend.” “Oh? You in from Kelethin?” Sara just nodded, too nervous to speak. “Evergreens majestic as mountains/ Winds that sing softly as the sea/ The splendors of Kelethin all bore me/ For none are as fair as she.” After this refrain, Redd strummed a short chord on his lute, and from nowhere, a single red rose appeared a moment later in his hand. The bard handed Sara the rose, smirked softly, and tenderly touched her cheek. With that, Redd put away his lute and produced a small set of drums from inside his cloak; thumping out a quick, vivacious beat, he was off at an unnatural speed through the city streets. (To Be Continued . . .)

niko_teen

08-08-2007, 04:03 PM

Hot Dang how am i suppose to read all of this today /poutsI do have other stories to keep up with you know

Rodahn

08-08-2007, 04:10 PM

Haha, sorry. Actually, I am stopping there for now. Got some other stuff to do myself <img src="/smilies/3b63d1616c5dfcf29f8a7a031aaa7cad.gif" border="0" alt="SMILEY" />