The Dark Flames – Book 6 - New Beginnings (no spam)

[Aqua-chan]

After the big brute of a man had dismissed her to her own, Aqua-chan had stomped across the room, up the stairs, past several patrons and into what seemed to be a vacant room. She didn't bother with paying for a room: she figured she would do so in the morning.... If she remembered. If she wanted to. Whatever.

Slave. For how long, exactly? Why do you do this to me, Talos? She looked up to the ceiling with a pained look.

That was last night. Rint had wanted to climb in bed with her, but she was quick to threaten to decapitate the poor excuse for a reptile and sell his organs for spell ingrediants. He then offered to take up less than a square foot at the very far edge of the bed, to which she responded by picking the mephit up, opening the door and dropping him. Aqua-chan delivered a quick kick of her leather boot to the rump of the hellbeing, sending the menace out into the halls for the night.

Today, she felt like Talos really was laughing at her. Her hair refused to stay down. She was tight on gold. She also had the problem of not having a way to get out of this town. To get a horse costs gold. And she couldn't "convince" a man into giving her one when she looked so terrible and felt less than seductive.

So, it looked like she wouldn't be escaping Jargoth any time soon. Blast it.

The mage priestess pulled the hood of her outfit over her head and sighed. Today was another day...

[Scayde]

After the debacle with Bloodstalker, Scayde felt as if her blood would boil. Walking out into the cool predawn air, she wanted nothing more than to put the entire incident behind her. Minutes later she found herself walking along a dirt path, the sounds of birds waking to unseen first light filling the air. A light mist drifted around her feet... and a brook babbled not too far away.

Scayde made her way through the still dark woods toward the sound of the water. A peaceful stream played and tumbled across smooth, rounded stones, She trailed her bared foot through the cool clear water; it was too inviting. A quick survey of her surroundings let her know she was alone. Pleased at the opportunity, she let her cares slip away with her clothes, and waded out into the water.Gingerly stepping to the middle of the brook, she reached the deepest part. Even here, it was only waist deep.

Languidly she reclined and allowed the cold currents to wash over her body, bubbles rising from the stones to tickle her skin. She floated easily about looking up at the azure sky, watching it streak first with silver, then with orange, pink and gold. The dimmest light of morning filtering down into the shaded grove surrounding her. Soon the bliss of her bath had washed all of the night's frustration away.

As Scayde turned to swim to the shore, reluctant to leave the watery heaven, she recoiled with a gasp. Something was there. Two green eyes glowed from the shadows. Scayde crouched in the water, frozen where she was. There was no where to go. Her knife and bracelet were both on the shore. Maybe she could make it to her things, but that would mean going toward the eyes. She crouched in the water, praying for an idea.

[Mysteria]

Ria woke with a start, bolt upright in her bed, clutching the sheets to her breast. She took a deep breath, calming herself, she'd only had a nightmare ... again. Somehow, these last days, she kept dreaming about running around in dark, never-ending tunnels, some horrible 'things' close at her heels. She shuddered, glad that it had just been a nightmare. A quick glance to the still unlocked window told her that morning wasn't far off, but that didn't keep her from snuggling back into her bed, determined to grab another hour of sleep, or so she thought.

About half an hour later, she was woken be shrill yells from downstairs as her mistress was having some kind of fit. Sitting bolt upright in her bed for the second time this morning, Ria sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. This wasn't going to be a good day ... She struggled into a pair of leggings and a fresh blouse, even thought it still bore some persistant grass-stains and tried the door wondering what the silly woman had found to yell at now ... The DRESS! She jumped back a pace. That hadn't been a dream! Her mind raced ... Miss Narny would come up ... and then she'd see that her apprentice's room was unlocked ... and the window too and ... NO! That would end with her getting one hell of a lecture and she'd have to get the dress back or else she'd have to work for months to pay it back.

Her shoulders sagged as she heard her mistress stoming up the stairs, stomp across the corridor and then she heard the key turn in the doorlock. Wait a second? The door was locked? Pagan! Ria send a short blessing to her new friend for thinking ahead and locking her in again, then composed her face just quickly enough to face Miss Narny with a blank stare.

"Yes?"

"YES?!! Is that all you have to say?" The small seamstress was almost apopleptic. "Lady Marigan's dress is gone! GONE!" Ria winced as her mistress's voice cranked up the octaves. "You!" A sharp finger pricked her. "You're responsible for this! You've taken out the dress and .. and ..."

Ria took her chance as the other woman gasped for breath. "I've been locked in here! I couldn't get into the corridor!"

Dumbfounded, Miss Narny looked down at the key in her hand. "Oh." The stupid girl was right, she had been locked in and there was no way she could have gotten out, neitehr through this door, nor through the window she could see still barred and locked. She took a step into the room and sat down heavily on the bed.

"What are we going to do now?"

Shocked, Ria saw tears glistening in her mistress's eyes and almost decided to tell her all ... but then she remembered in time what consequences that would bring about for herself, so she meant instead, "Can't we make another dress?"

"For tonight? Child, I don't have time!"

"I could ... help?" Ria suggested hesitantly, knowing very well that her mistress never ever allowed a mere apprentice to work on something as complicated as a gown.

Predictably enough, the small woman looked shocked. "You? You're barely able to stitch a straight seam and you want to help? You'd undo more than you'd be helpful. No, what I need would be a master of the field, a genius of the needle ... Alas, where would I find someone like that in this ... this dung-hole at the end of the universe!"

Ria rolled her eyes and left the mistress mumbling to herself on the bed. Sometimes, that woman went over her head, dreaming of great cities and palaces, but most of the time she was quite happy in Ogre Falls. Still, she'd do better to start on a new dress as soon as possible for lady Marigan wasn't exactly patient either. The red head grabbed a chunk of bread from the kitchen table and put a pot of milk on the still cold stove. Munching her piece of bread, she went to the front room and looked at the now bare dummy. She stared at it for a moment, then returned to the kitchen, took the milk from the stove and poured herself a cup of hot chocolate. Briefly, she wondered who'd made a fire, but then she decided that she'd probably done it herself and forgotten about it.

[Chanak]

Ruul Zalithash Zai'shann strode through the wilderness, seeking signs of the mephit that had been eluding him for days on end now...

The insignificant little wretch would suffer grandly for the inconvenience it was creating for the sorcerer. Were it not for the jewel it carried within its scaly breast, Ruul would dismiss it entirely with a wave of the hand...

Ah, but it was not to be so. It would be an embarrassment, yes, to be bested by the likes of a mephit. And true, the jewel was not exceptional amongst the treasures of Calimshan...it was but a lesser stone, a bauble even, that might adorn the ring of a lesser noble of little note...yet it was the principle of the matter that concerned the sorcerer. The stone it carried was a trophy, part of a brilliant ransom Ruul had negotiated by the abduction of a Calimshanite official's daughter several years past. That the daughter in question was a co-conspirator mattered not...it was, as most matters of honor were, a question of pride to the spellsword.

The thought of the dark-haired Calimshan girl, his unwitting pawn in a much grander scheme, stirred a flood of memories within the tiefling. He paused, listening to the babbling of a brook nearby...

Ah, Zaisha. Our adventures were grand, were they not? You even forgave me for deceiving you. Yes, I had convinced you that the ransom for your safe return was, in truth, the wedding gift I would have received from your father, had I met with his approval. That I had promised you the moon and the stars mattered not...that you still expect my return one day, as well, touches me deeply. Ah, Zaisha...

His reverie was broken by the telltale signs of the mephit's passage...sulfurous spoor assaulted his finely tuned nose, a sure sign he was still on the trail left by the treacherous miscreant. As he followed the scent, it led him to a clearing, adorned by a quaint, picturesque brook...

And an exceedingly comely, fair complected maiden leisurely bathing in the cool, soothing waters of the stream, sans adornment of any kind...save what nature had graciously gifted her with.

Ruul's mind began to swiftly assess the situation. What a marvelous development in an otherwise unfortunate evening.

It was to his benefit that his presence had not yet been detected by the bathing beauty, allowing ample time to admire her radiance in the soft light of the stars...

However, all good things must eventually come to an end, and Ruul conceded such as the stunning woman took note of his presence with a gasp of surprise. Yes, the eyes always betray me, the sorcerer thought ruefully as he calculated his next move. A blessing and a curse they are, so it would seem.

Stepping forward into view, Ruul bowed deeply.

"My lady, fear not. I am Ruul Zalithash Zai'shann, come lately in forest glade seeking after my cousin, who has become lost in the wilderness. I chanced to travel in this locale in the hopes that my wayward relation - bless his gentle, if not somewhat naive soul - might happen to camp here, by the side of this woodland stream.

"Lo! Yet what might I, begging a thousand pardons of my most gracious lady, happen to chance upon this solemn evening? A gem of unsurpassing desire, a jewel of the gods, as it were, gracing the stars with her radiant beauty. I am humbled, fair one...

"Again, I beg your forgiveness for intruding upon your solitude...surely you are here for the pleasure it brings. I have transgressed..."

The tiefling bowed once more, a repentant tone accentuating his carefully measured words. He was an accomplished actor, and reveled in the game...

"It is a perilous thing, my fair lady, to be alone in such a way in the wilds after sundown. There are ogres about...in addition to other denizens of the night, there is much danger afoot, indeed, for the lady to face without companionship. If it pleases you, I, Ruul, am at your service, as well as in your debt..."

[Aegis]

Having left a pair of 'fearsome' ogres wallowing in their dust, are brave heroes set out once more unto the unknown of Ogre Ford. Along the way, the reminisced happily about the greater things in life. Greg and Eric spoke highly of swords. Sago mulled away the time, 'making sure Collik's pouches had no holes in the them'. And Collik fingering the hilt of his dagger thinking thoughts of his utter happiness...

"When he sleeps... Yes.. That would do nicely... I'll wait for the idiot to sleep than... STAB! Hehehe... It'll be a just day for people everywhere-"

Collik stopped, his eyes wide open, staring stupidly from beneath his rediculously wide brimmed hat towards the other tree members of the party, who returned a similar look.

"Umm.. I..." Collik looked to the side, suddenly noticing the dagger raised high in the air. "GAAH!" He mumbled awkwardly with it, before stuffing it back into a fold of his robes. "Hehe... I was... Uhh... Finding out... Umm... Which way the wind was blowing!" He smiled sheepishly, then stooped forward somewhat, and muttered to himself. "The fools would never suspect with a cunning answer like that..."

Umm, Collik?" Greg leaned forward. "Your not doing that thing were you talk to yourself about some vile evil plans of yours to kill us in our sleep while muttering to yourself so we can't hear you, are you?"

Collik's twichted, and he shot upright. "Umm.. No! Of course not..." He smiled sheepishly again.

"Oh..." Greg smiled dumbly. "Alright then!" He then turned, and continued walking forward again.

Collik sighed a releived sigh, and took pace behind the others as the march continued.

"The ignorance of it all... Why... Why me... One... Fireball...."

Collik groaned, and slumped his shoulders and continued the dull march forward...

And so we leave our valiant warriors on their holiest of holy quests. Having braved another fearsome task on their road of life. What will befall our heroes next? Only time will tell...

[Scayde]

Crouching low in the water, Scayde raised her head in defiance of the intruder. She was more than a little startled at his appearance. Tall and exceedingly handsome, his presence was impressive, as were the shining black horns protruding from his forehead and serpentine tail which curled to the ground behind him. His fierce bastard sword was adorned with intricate carvings, runes and gems. His dress and black leather armor were exquisite. This man was no pauper.

She had heard of his kind before. Tieflings, they were called. Possibly a noble, but no soft lord to underestimate. Scayde measured her words carefully. “Your speech is impressive good sir. It rivals that of a bard. I appreciate your concern for my well being, but I am afraid you are mistaken. I am not alone. My companions are encamped nearby, and as for ogres,” Scayde smiled wryly, “I am sure one of my summonings would quickly dispatch any threat.”

Scayde steeled herself. She could not let the stranger know how vulnerable she was. Still, she did not want to offend such a handsome prospect. “I am sure under other circumstances I would be very pleased to meet you, however, as you can see, I am currently indisposed.”

Scayde caught her breath as the stranger stooped to pick up her things, and with hand outstretched, offered them to her. “Please Sir, you are too kind, but if you would turn your back, I will dress and be on my way.”

Ruul deferred, nodding politely to the bathing beauty. “Ah, but of course, my lady. Your comfort is of importance here.” Placing her effects back in place, the sorcerer noted a fair item of jewelry glittering from the bundle of clothes...taking advantage of the opportunity, the tiefling deftly removed the bauble, slipping it into the cuff of his bracer.

Walking back towards the woodline, Ruul smiled broadly. Despite the lady’s claims to the contrary, there were no others about in the woods at this hour....save himself, and the vision of loveliness in the stream. Ah, she is a bold one, the sorcerer mused as he turned his back towards the stream. “I shall be on my way then, fair one. May you and your...companions...take heed of the wandering band of ogres to the west. Despite the large campfire, a brute sits well off the beaten path...nestled against the trunk of a great oak. I do believe he is on the lookout for “tasty” morsels...”

As he walked into the forest, he called back towards the stream. “Perhaps you know of a reputable hostel in the area, my lady. I am in need of lodging for the night...alas, the search for my dear cousin has brought me into parts unknown...”

Scayde waded toward the shore and retrieved her belongings. Slipping her into her dress, she noticed with a start that her brooch was missing. Ooooo...that scoundrel !!! She thought as she stomped her foot in the damp grass. Quickly she finished dressing and ran to catch the tiefling. There was no way she could overpower him with her bracelet not yet recharged. She would have to make sure he stayed nearby until this evening.

“Good Sir! If you would please. My lord Artemis Lashtongue is a renowned bard. Our troupe is performing at the tavern in Ogre Ford tonight. The inn there is quite comfortable, and the owners more than hospitable. If it is fair lodging you seek, I recommend it highly.” Scayde offered her warmest smile, and introduced herself. “My name is Scayde Tangleisi. You may ask for me there.” Offering her hand to the tiefling, she felt her face redden at the soft brush of his lips across her fingers. “Charmed and at your service, I assure you.” Ruul graciously bowed as he replied.

A bit unnerved, Scayde turned to make her way back to Ogre Ford. As she sauntered casually through the meadow, she glanced occasionally over her shoulder back toward the woodline. Scayde was distraught at the possibility of having left the thief a possible escape. Sighing with relief, she quickened her pace when she saw him re-emerge from the wood astride a massive black steed, quickly closing the gap to follow her.

[VoodooDali]

Scayde let out an evil laugh and said, "Sounds like you two have a lot of catching up to do. I will take my leave."

Bloodstalker stared wide-eyed at Betty. A thin string of drool stretched down from his slack mouth.

Betty guffawed, and thought about how weird the word "guffaw" was and how she had never been exactly sure what a "guffaw" was, but it sure seemed like something a mule would do. "Interesting little scheme you got going there, Bloodstalker...still on the grift, eh?"

"Wha--? Uh..." Bloodstalker shook himself.

"I wonder if I should tell the barkeep about this plan of yours? I think that would be the right thing to do, don't you? Yes, I believe I will do that." Betty did a little skip and trot in her stall.

"Come on Betty, not you, too...I suppose you want a cut as well?" At the rate I'm going, Bloodstalker thought, I'll be lucky to come out of this with any profit at all. He scowled.

"Nah, that would be too easy. You owe me big time. I've been doing a lot of eavesdropping in my current form, and I heard rumors that you've been slipping ladies certain pills to render them malleable to your depravity....That little drinking *game* we played got me so wasted...Well, just look at me Bloodstalker!"

Bloodstalker looked and looked. He had to admit that even in this equine form, Betty had a certain *charm*. It was something about her *ass*, it was fine and round...her hide, so sleek...her lips, so - prehensile. Almost involuntarily, he found himself moving closer and closer, until he felt something heavy on his foot. He looked down - it was Betty's hoof.

"Move any closer and I'll crush every bone in it. God, you are so pervy!" Betty lifted her hoof, and Bloodstalker backed up a couple of steps. He still had a really strange gleam in his eye.

"All right, all right, so I done you wrong," he rasped. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't know yet, Bloodstalker - but you'll be hearing from me again when I figure it out."

"Women." Bloodstalker said, and stormed out of the stables.

[Chanak]

Ruul stroked the silky black mane of Nehtrun, steed of Calimshan nobility. "Canter, spirited one," he breathed into the stallion's ear, pulling the reins taut. It would not do to appear untoward, and were the prize of Alim-shara given the opportunity, he would certainly thunder unchecked into the horizon. 'Twas enough that the lady's brooch lie comfortably in his purse...haste was not called for this day.

As he closed to a comfortable distance behind the lady of the brook, Ruul was impressed by her sense of propriety. Doubtless she noticed the missing bauble as she dressed. Surely, she must be a player upon the stage, as well. The sorcerer grinned inwardly, relishing the prospect of the unknown.

"Never a dull moment, eh, Nethrun? Mayhap you long for the more peaceful existence of Calimshan before we met, yes? Fine grains, attentive stablehands, parades and leisurely jaunts...these I cannot offer you, my steadfast equine companion. Simply say the word, and I shall release you from your service to me. Ruul Zai'shann may drive a hard bargain, but he is not a hard man..."

A snort, followed by a low whinny, seemed to satisfy the tiefling's whim for the moment. "So it is, fair enough. Like myself, a life of pampered luxury is not the way for you." Patting the horse gently on the neck, he looked upon the gypsy dancer ahead. "I thought as much."

If she is a player, she must have props...

Ruul's finely tuned senses drank in the sights, sounds, and smells of the dawning Flamerule morning. Though simple and somewhat rustic, the countryside was not without it's charm...as the lady of the brook had so graciously illustrated to the sorcerer's appreciative eyes.

Amongst the wildflowers, jasmine, and glittering dew of the bucolic meadow, fortune once again favored Ruul Zai'shann. For all about him, nestled between the soft, waving grasses of the field, emanated an odor now all too familiar to him.

The mephit had passed this way. That he was still on the trail of the thief boosted his spirits even more. Lady Luck was smiling upon him. 'Twas a good day, indeed. Ruul Zai'shann smiled.

[Gwalchmai]

The salamander slithered across the frond of the fern, dewy droplets glistening on its yellow and red skin. A noise just ahead caused it to freeze, its head held high and motionless. The source of the sound lay just on the ground nearby – a small beetle had been upturned and it struggled to right itself. If salamanders could smile, this one would be grinning from tympanic membrane to tympanic membrane. Such an easy morning snack! It crept forward and opened its jaws…..

Suddenly, a dark shadow blotted out the morning light, and the salamander froze again. The beetle, panicked, fluttered its wings, regained its feet, and flew away, an instant before the large booted foot came crashing down.

“Are you sure this is an actual path, Shanie?” Gwally said as another wet fern slapped him in the face.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Yshania called from behind.

“And it will take us to the Famous Mr. Ed?”

“Yes.” Behind Yshania, the mule made a strange noise that sounded a lot like a chuckle. “Maybe I had better take the lead,” she called.

“Whatever you say, Fair Ranger Girl,” Gwally said, gallantly holding a tree branch away and leading his horse off the supposed path in the forest. Yshania led her horse past, smiling as Gwally bowed deeply.

A few more minutes of walking, and the path suddenly opened up again, the canopy of trees lifting into a higher, older part of the forest. The underbrush along the path was trampled down four or five feet to either side. “Now, this is a path even I could follow!” Gwally exclaimed.

“This is strange,” Betty muttered.

“How can a nice, well-groomed path in the forest be strange?” Gwally asked.

Betty nuzzled at a crushed Fenberry bush. “This vegetation has been recently trampled. By something very big.”

“Nonsense!” Gwally said, “Surely the local Boy Scouts have been busy or something! They must know what a sub-par path this had been, and, well, they have started to fix it!”

Yshania was puzzled as well. First of all, Gwally seemed to be talking to his mule. That was odd enough, but she didn’t remember this path ever being so wide. Of course, the last time she had been down this path was several years ago… Still, it might be good to take a look. She bent down and looked at the grasses and dirt by the path. A large foot print was all she needed, its size (about 15 inches long), morphology (an unshod humanoid), and condition (crumbling edges), telling her everything. But she felt Gwally’s inquisitive eyes on her, so she plucked a bent stem of grass, sniffed it and tasted it, all for show. Then she tested the wind, held her hand to shade her eyes and checked the position of the sun. She turned to Gwally, “Ogres.”

Gwally’s eyes darted from side to side. “Ogres?”

“I figured,” Betty muttered.

“Yes, Ogres. But its been two or three days, and we are behind them. We should be safe enough.” She wiped the serious look off her face and smiled at Gwally’s worried expression. “Plus, we can ride from here!” She quickly mounted and clucked her horse into a trot.

[Gwalchmai]

“Okay, the Famous Mr. Ed’s hut should be just ahead,” Yshania called back.

But Gwally stopped his horse. “Hey! I think I heard something! Just over there!” He craned his neck to peer into the bushes beyond the side of the path. Yshania turned her horse back.

“What?”

“I don’t know. It just sounded weird.”

“Come on!” Betty complained, “We’re almost there!” But Gwally had already dismounted his horse and was stealthily approaching the line of trees. With Yshania and Betty close behind, Gwally crawled forward under the branches to a large bush. He carefully parted the leaves and looked beyond.

The sight that greeted them was completely unexpected. A forest clearing had been turned into a parade ground, and a company of humanoid soldiers were marching in well-drilled ranks. One rank neared the bush, and the companions could study them more closely. Green-skinned half-orcs to a man, they wore elaborate leather uniforms with epaulets and bright studs. Broad swords were strapped to their backs. Suddenly, Yshania gasped and shuddered. Gwally choked down rising bile. Betty seemed to chuckle.

The soldiers were pantless. Completely. Not a stitch on below their belts.

The bouncing and bobbing was mesmerizing to watch and they were unable to take their eyes from the scene, like viewing the scene of an accident. As the rank and file drew close, the sergeant began barking out a rhyme, each line repeated by a chorus of gruff voices:


We are half-orcs, yes its true!
(We are half-orcs, yes its true!)
Loyal Jar-heads through and through!
(Loyal Jar-heads through and through!)
Sound off
(One Two)
Sound off
(One Two)
Sound off, sound off
(Three Four!)


As soon as the rank passed, the companions hurried back to their path. “Wow!” Gwally breathed trying to blot the image from his mind, “I really wish we hadn’t’ve stopped!”

“Come on,” Yshania said, her voice quavering, “The wizard’s hut isn’t far. Let’s just forget we ever saw that.”

Betty just giggled.

[Gwalchmai]

“I say! There’s an apple tree!” Gwally exclaimed happily. He guided his horse under the tree’s sweeping branches. “Just about time for a nice mid-morning snack, I think!”

“Yum!” Betty brayed.

Gwally reached up and snagged a couple of good, juicy apples, tossing a few down to Betty. Yshania soon rode up, so Gwally stood in his stirrups to reach for a particularly nice apple to share. “Here’s a good one for you, Shanie!”

“Look at this apple!” Yshania exclaimed, admiring its lovely red-gold color, “So firm! So smooth! So large!” Her voice took on a low, husky tone as she spoke of the apple’s virtues. She put the apple to her nose, taking a long, slow sniff with her eyes fluttering half-closed. “Oooohhhh my!” she whispered. Suddenly, she savagely bit into the apple’s crunchy flesh, devouring it hungrily. She only slowed once it was finished, her tongue sliding languorously across her lips, savoring every drop of juice. She breathed a shuddering sigh and half-smiled.

Gwally was speechless.

[Yshania]

She took a deep breath and licked her lips, casually wiping the dribbling juices from her chin. As she began to fuss at the drops of juice on her shirt, she became aware of her companion’s sudden silence. Gwalchmai was staring at her with a mixture of horror, then intrigue then awe. Yshania checked quickly over her shoulder before asking;

“Gwally? Do you feel ok?”

“I…I…” he stammered, before dropping his eyes to gaze dreamily, almost intimately, at the two apples he held in his hands. Slowly, he released his grip, just enough to turn the fruit over in his palms, to suddenly, and inexplicably, appreciate nature’s gift as Shanie had just done. To test the firmness of the flesh, to admire the richness of their blushing skins, to drink in the freshness of their scent, and to suddenly love them for the simple pleasures they could bring. Gently he brushed his thumbs across their ripened skins. Such beauty! A sudden sense of achievement overcame the bard in his musings, one that he could not reason. Was it the accomplishment to momentarily forget the toils and sweat of city life and accept the fantastic gifts that nature could provide? But something niggling at the back of his mind insisted he might have achieved something much more personal. Later he felt he might be inspired to write something, he was sure that there would be no reason to rationalise these feelings, it felt more precious by not knowing. He wondered whether Artemis would approve, or yet again write him off as a hopeless romantic, reminding him that he should be musing for the masses, and that business on this scale held no place to lose yourself in idle and personal ramblings. Fighting the urge to throw off all his past desires for material gain and run naked through the forest, Gwalchmai cleared his throat and gently placed his fruits of inspiration into his pack. Yshania looked on, wondering whether this was the way of the bard profession. Betty just hee-hawed, demanding more sustenance.

“I am fine, thank you, just…not hungry right now”

“Let’s go then!” Yshania pulled on her mount’s reins and lead the party on a tight winding path through low hanging branches. As the path opened into a clearing, she pulled up her horse and pointed to a run down shack with a fenced off vegetable patch a short distance ahead.

“Well there he is” she declared “but mark my words, he is not used to company, and it may serve you better to remember your manners…and this” She placed a small bottle into the bard’s hands “he will know what it is, and it may go some way to breaking the ice” Still humbled and mute from his experience with the apples, Gwalchmai stammered his thanks and lead the way towards the cabin.

[Gwalchmai]

A pastoral scene confronted Gwally as he guided his horse toward the Great Mage’s home. A small, unassuming cottage and a large barn behind – no glowing stone, no smoldering thatch, no warding glyph – nothing to indicate the presence of that Polymorphing Master of Mystic Manipulation, The Famous Mr. Ed. Just a house, a barn, a white picket fence, and a few chickens.

Betty and Yshania followed the young bard toward the front gate. Gwally could sense no danger about the place, and he approached it calmly and with a silly sort of half-smile on his face. Of course, he knew full well that he had never demonstrated any precognitive abilities, be they a ‘Danger Sense,’ a ‘Sixth Sense,’ or even a reliable intuition. Yet he felt sure that this wizard’s cottage posed no threat. Which was why he was very surprised when he heard the roar.

The loud roar of an attacking monster sounded just to Gwally’s left, so Gwally yelped and tumbled off his horse to the right. To his credit, he managed to roll to his feet, pulling a dagger from his boot in the process. Yshania had also leapt from her horse, producing a bejeweled blade as well. Betty just stood quietly shaking her head.

Gwally and Yshania crouched and looked all around, desperately seeking the source of the roar. Yet no monsters were evident. Just the chickens. Betty was heard to “tsk.” One chicken ran up to Gwally and began furiously pecking at his boot. He kicked it away and gave Yshania a questioning look. She just shrugged.

“Don’t be afraid of the Ogres,” a man from the front of the cottage called, “they won’t bother you too much.” The slightly chubby man wearing a gardener’s hat and overalls walked up to the gate.

“Ogres?” Gwally asked.

“Yes, foolish Ogres who thought to attack me yesterday. Now they lay some very nice eggs,” the little man said. One of the chickens roared in frustration. “Now, I suggest you move along. I don’t take kindly to uninvited guests.”

“But, you must be the Famous Mr. Ed, yes?”

“I am the Very Busy Mr. Ed and if I took the time to talk to every fortune-seeker, supplicant, or quest-bound adventurer that came along, then my roses wouldn’t be the envy of all Faerun!”

“But, we need your help! Betty, here, is in the most dire straits and she –“

“Fix your own problems. Now, move along!”

Yshania nudged Gwally in the ribs, “Don’t forget the bottle I gave you!” she whispered.

“Ah, yes,” Gwally said. “Perhaps we could make a trade Oh Great Wizard?” He held the clear vial up for the little man to see.

“Hummingbird Urine!” the wizard exclaimed, suddenly all smiles and much more friendly. “Please! Do come in! I’ll fix us a spot of tea.” He stopped and looked the three companions in the eye. “But be warned: Don’t be surprised by anything you might see.” With that, the Famous Mr. Ed ushered them inside his cottage.

[dragon wench]

Both restless and apprehensive Pagan swallowed down her breakfast. She knew she should gain more practice with the confounded dress and shoes, but her nervous uneasiness made any sort of concentration impossible. With a sigh she pushed away her plate and strode towards the open door.

The morning seemed deceptively bright and sunny, so much so that for a moment she nearly slipped into a sense of well-being. But, visions of her dream from the night before continued to distract her, and , the task ahead suddenly seemed dauntingly unnerving.

"Ugh, why am I so rattled?" she muttered to herself, brushing a fine, strand of hair from her face.

From the corner of her eye she noticed a sudden lurch near a small cluster of buildings. It was the inestimable Old Harry Nine Toes.... in apparent pursuit of a.... black, nanny goat. Pagan shuddered, and trying to repress the urge to notch an arrow into her bow, she quickly found some shadows in which to hide.

The goat meanwhile skittered into a yard, running straight into a clothes line of freshly washed breeches, tunics... and peculiar, long, white garments. A sort of inner garment with a type of...flap in the posterior. Pagan closed her eyes and wondered just what had been in the beer she had consumed the previous night.

[Gwalchmai]

“I hope you like Ceylon and Darjeeling,” Mr. Ed said, pulling the tea cozy from the pot and serving up three cupfuls. The cups and saucers had an interesting gilt bovine pattern on them. After sugar and cream were passed around, the Mighty Mage glanced covetously at the vial of Hummingbird Urine. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“Well, you can start by not turning us into chickens….” Gwally ventured, stirring his tea.

“Then Pigs you shall be!” laughed the mage. “A little polymorph humor, there.”

Yshania looked suspiciously at her tea, then shrugged and took another sip.

“Actually, I was hoping you could help out poor Betty here,” Gwally said, indicating the donkey that had followed them into the mage’s house.

“Oh? What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m not usually a donkey!” Betty shouted, stamping her hoof. She was very put out that she had not been offered any tea.

Yshania gasped and nearly fell out of her chair, “It can talk!” she whispered hoarsely. Only decorum and years as a serving wench kept her from spilling her tea.

Mr. Ed looked at the animal while ignoring Yshania’s quiet outburst. “What are you normally?” he asked mildly.

When Betty seemed to hesitate, Gwally cleared his throat, “Well, she’s supposed to be a Half-elf, I guess”

“Half-elf and Half-What?” The mage asked archly. He stood and began to examine Betty, pulling at her ears, closely examining the ratty hair of her mane, looking at her teeth – all of which she endured as anyone must endure the pokings and proddings of doctors. She only tried to kick him when he attempted to cop a feel of her withers. “Yes, yes. I see the problem.” He looked Betty in her large, bulbous eye. “Have you been trying to polymorph an unwilling subject?

“Um, yes.”

“Were you drinking at the time?”

Betty shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”

“Were you drinking a concoction called ‘Turkey’?”

“Well, er… I’m not sure… maybe.”

“You, my dear, have a definite case of Polymorphicus Schnoockeredus. Somewhat rare, but it happens eventually to the best of us shape-shifting magic users. Well, actually the best of us get something far worse….” Mr. Ed’s voice trailed off and he looked wistfully out the window. As if on cue, Mr. Ed suddenly sneezed violently and turned into a small lion-bodied Sphinx. He growled in frustration, turned around three times, and suddenly became his old, pudgy, balding, overall-ed self. “As you can see, there are worse maladies to have.”

Betty’s large eyes grew larger. “What happened to you?”

Mr. Ed began picking at a thorn that had mysteriously appeared in his paw – er, hand. “This is what comes of a life time in the Polymorphic Arts. I am subject to random changes in shape. They usually happen at the most inconvenient of times. I’ve lost more dates because of this.”

“What can be done for you”

“Your concern for my well-being is appreciated, my dear, but I’m afraid this is something I just have to live with. A special distillation can keep the changes under control, but I must take it every day. Unfortunately, one of the key components, hummingbird urine, is very hard to come by. Unless, of course, I happen to change into a hummingbird soon after drinking large quantities of tea. Then its just a matter of finding an open container, and….” He shuddered in revulsion, then suddenly shuddered again. “Brraaaak!” he squawked, having mostly transformed onto a Dodo Bird, except for his right leg, which remained somewhat human. This upset his balance and he toppled over, crashing into a plate of cookies on the counter. He became human again before he hit the ground. “Darn!” he shouted, “Pardon my language, but I was planning on serving those cookies to all of you! They were my mother’s recipe.”

The mage picked himself up and rummaged in a cabinet. He produced a nearly-empty decanter of green liquid that he carefully measured into a test-tube. He drank the contents while holding his nose. “There. That should hold me for a while.”

Yshania couldn’t stop herself from needing to clean up the cookie mess, her years of bar-wench training asserting themselves even in the face of such weirdness. “Oh, you poor man,” she said, “I shall bring you all the hummingbird urine I have, if it will help you!”

“Thank you, dear Lady, but you will want to save some of it for your donkey friend.”

“Why?”

The mage again rummaged in a cabinet and produced a small bottle that literally had hair growing on it. “This potion is called ‘The Dog That Bit You’ and will temporarily restore Betty to her original form – but only for three days. In that time, you must gather the ingredients for another potion that will permanently restore her.”

“Where shall we find these ingredients?” Gwally asked, thinking that this was starting to sound like a jolly good little quest. He might even be able to write a song about this.

“The first is simply one more small vial of your Ranger Friend’s hummingbird urine. The second is a canteen full of the mineral water from one of the Seven Restorative Hot Springs of Sune. There is one located near Ogre Falls, I believe.”

“Ah,” Gwally said sagely, “I’ve heard of this place.”

“The third ingredient is a bit of whipped cream that has been laced with Tia Maria. But be careful: The whipped cream must be freely given to you by a handsome, strong, and good hero.”

Gwally wasn’t sure that handsome, strong, and good heroes even existed anymore.

“Lastly, and most importantly, and most dangerously, you must obtain a steaming mug of Dragon’s Breath.”

“What, just any old Dragon’s Breath?” Gwally asked, feeling his enthusiasm for this quest drop like a stone. “A mug of Green Dragon acid, perhaps, or a cup of Snow from a White Dragon?”

“Maybe he means a kind of drink called ‘Dragon Breath’?” Yshinia offered, still thinking like a bar wench.

“Close,” the old wizard said, “Actually, you need a of cup of the Breath Weapon from the most fearsome, most mind-boggling terrifying dragon this world has ever seen.” Mr. Ed paused for effect. He waggled his eyebrows so that everyone knew that his next words were going to be very important. The pregnant pause reached full-term, and the Great Mage spoke in a hushed voice, “A Chocolate Dragon.”