Chloe's Prayer (Part 1)

The center of the room was a raised platform four feet off the floor and about twenty-five feet square. An elaborate iron railing along three sides stood about waist high with a wall completing the fourth. Fifteen people were in a heated argument on the platform. Chloe sat along the stairs on the right side leading up to the floor. She watched intently as the people quibbled.

Fabian, a tall muscular blonde warrior, stepped forward and spoke, “We can certainly hold down the church here for as long as we need. We have provisions, we have weapons, we have everything we need to survive the next few invasions.”

“We need to leave, this is just a very temporary solution to our situation, we can meet up with the others in the west.” Emil the elder responded.

As they continued there arguments Chloe found herself staring at the weapon resting on the railing in front of her. It was Emil’s sword, four feet long with a serrated razor sharp edge and a pointed hook at the end. It was pure beauty in weapon form, she thought. The blade had a bluish black tint to it that refracted the light in an entrancing way. Then she felt it, a presence.. no, two presences, that did not belong here. She searched with her minds eye into the room.

“We will be perfectly safe, Jance and I can easily protect all of you,” Fabian said as he advanced on Emil slowly and deliberately.

“That is nice,” Chloe chimed in, “but did you realize he’s already possessed?” She pointed a finger at Fabian. He shot her a death glare and swept quickly through the remaining space between him and Emil. In an instant Emil was on the floor limp, his head angled awkwardly from his body.

Chloe jumped up from her place on the stairs, leaping over the banister she grabbed Fabians sword and landed delicately on her feet a short distance away from him. He started to rush her; she sidestepped bringing the sword up level with his neck and then pulled hard forward. His body being carried by the momentum continued on, but the head lingered on the blade.

“We will get you,” the head garbled as it slowly fell to the floor. Chloe stared at it for a moment before swinging the blade around her and catching Gonfit across the waist separating him into two as he was leaping at her. She knelt down and whispered a prayer for both their souls and went back to her place, taking the blade with her.

“What will we do?” A small boy run up to Chloe and looked into her eyes expectantly.

“What’s your name? And are you fast?” She replied.

“Arwen, and certainly I am, fastest out of all the kids,” he beamed.

Chloe reached into her satchel and pulled out an ancient looking tome, flipped though a bunch of pages until she found the one she was looking for. She tore a section of the page off and handed to the child, “Take this to the east, the direction of the rising sun. You keep going and don’t stop until you find someone named Gar. Give this to him.” The boy nodded and was off.

-V-

Slugging Away

Freja sat on the big leaf and contemplated life. She’d been in the garden for nearly 300 daylights. The garden had been good to her. At the previous day’s courtyard meeting there was much unrest about the impending beetle invasion. She vaguely remembered the last one when she was just a juvenile slug; They preyed upon the tribe at at sun-brake while they were just coming out of slumber. The elders feared that this year was going to be worse.

“We can’t just simply keep doing our thing and pray they don’t eat us!” Runa the elder exclaimed.

“Certainly we can!” Vidar responded, “I’ve been here for 953 daylights, and it’s the way my mother did it, and they way their mothers did it, and so on, and so on…”

“That’s no excuse for not trying,” Runa continued.

This caught Vidar off guard, “Why certainly it is! Who are you to say that the way we have done things in the past is wrong, it’s what has led us to now. It has to be fine, or else we would be where we are now.”

“On a bunch of leaves?” Egil interrupted, a young slug. The space erupted into a cacophony of laughter. He was a young slug, and quickly making a name for himself. Freja had been noticing him a lot recently, and not just because he was disrupting the meeting, but there was something captivating about him. She couldn’t explain it, but overtime he was around her, her circulatory system would go into overdrive.

“Ahem…” Runa butted into Freja’s train of thought and throwing an icy glance at Egil, “moving on. We need to come up with a plan of action to stop the impending night raids.”

“Psssh…” replied Vidar, “I’ll not change a thing, and nor will my brood, or their offspring. You don’t go against tradition, it’s not…” he searched for a good word and ended weakly on, “traditional.”

“We should build a defense system and a series of battlements that the beetles can’t get through,” the voice sounded so close and terribly far away at the same time. It took a moment for Freja to realize it was coming from her. She had no idea where the words were coming from, but each one was necessary and needed in that order. It all just made sense.

Egil looked right at Freja, freezing her in place. He smiled and winked at her, “I agree with this, it sounds like a great plan!” General murmurs of approval started from the younger slugs and eventually became a full roaring of agreement from the space.

“I think you might be on to something here… um?” Runa looked expectantly at Freja.

“Freja,” she responded lamely, she shuttered and redoubled her response with a lot more force, “Freja is my name.”

“Ah good, I’d like to hear more of this plan.”

“I’d like to offer my expertise,” Egil declared.

“Yes, Egil would have many great ways to expand and make this plan impervious,” Freja added elatedly.

-V-

Beyond Certainty (Part 1)

In the land beyond reality there was an evil being named Faldorgon. He was truly the most evil and vile creature ever known to any cognizant being. His features so hideous descriptions would not do your imagination any justice. But if I were to try, conjure in your mind a beast with horns, tentacles, and beady eyes, lots of them, everywhere. Let it drip acid on the floor from its slightly ajar mouth and mumble odd gurgling noises. With every step the creature makes some of it’s limbs drag on the floor behind with talons and nails scratching out an eerie symphony.

Now Faldorgon looked nothing like this, but it was fun brainstorming, wasn’t it. He really was too unique to describe, the many features one would try to ascribe and cast just can’t be put down in our language. He was also one of the meanest creatures anyone could come across. He was the type to sell his mother to gypsies just for fun. In fact, he did just that, mainly to see the look in her eyes as she was dragged away. He smiled deeply as she shouted his name, cursing him.

But, for the sake of all things decent, I should tell you, he was only about two millimeters tall, and as you are reading this, a somewhat respectable nymph was about to step on him, extinguishing his life force forever, or until you read this again, in which case I suppose he keeps coming back and getting stepped on repeatedly. A fair ending to something like him I think.

Our ‘heroic’ nymph whom unknowingly defeated the greatest evil ever stands about five feet tall, emanates a strong scent of roses that would have girls swooning left and right, but has a fascinatingly odd problem of keeping men in her life. It wasn’t her looks per se, she was absolutely adorable, nor was it her charisma, she had loads of that pouring out of every part of her. No, her problem was a touch more bizarre and came down to her name.

Her name was of ancient decent going back thousands of years; the language in which it originated has now long since been lost, but her current moniker given to her was realized from the first time anyone ever asked her name. Being a magical creature, when she properly pronounced it her name began sparking in the air as it flowed from her mouth creating a small electric field in the air. Lightning whipped around her.

The person whom asked her ended up getting hit with the discharge of the field and received charred skin all over their body. From that moment on the strange nymph was known as Char. And the poor scorched man ended up becoming a bard and telling the world of this ‘terrible’ girl whom had permanently disfigured him in songs so beautiful that no one really ever wanted to get to know her better. Char had convinced herself that it was better this way anyways, who wants to hang out with lots of cool friends anyhow?

-V-

Yargo (Part 5)

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It had been a long morning and Walter was very tired; all he needed was a good place to sleep. Something inside of him was reassuring him with every step that his day could only be getting better. The funny thing about assuming things will get better when one is having a terrible day. The universe has a way of proving people wrong. Philosophers have postulated that this is due to the Universe having a bad day itself, or being bored, or just generally being a jerk.

On his door was a wonderfully written notice of eviction. Why, he thought, would anyone be evicted for just three months back rent? He knew people in the movies never had this problem, they just told the landlord the money would be there next week, and the idiots would believe it. It wasn’t so much being evicted that bothered Walter; it was the time he had to be off the premises.

The note said be clear of place by noon, it was already eleven thirty. Now he was truly in a bind. Without a car to put his crap in, he had only a half of an hour to get the really important stuff out of his apartment. He opened the door and took as much stuff as he could. He shoved bobbles and trinkets into pockets that he never knew he had before. Twelve was approaching fast and his landlord wasted no time. At precisely noon a big burly man, I use man loosely here, with so much hair, hair in places one would not choose to imagine, walked in.

Walter said in a faltering voice, “Yes, can I help you?”

The man replied in an overly interested voice, “It’s time to go.”

“Go? Where? Did I win a trip?” Walter sounded somewhat excited.

“Hmmmm…” the man patted his beard in thought, or least Walter thought it was his beard. “I do not believe so. You have however won a one way ticket out of this apartment.”

“And if I resist?”

“Oh… I do like it when they resist, please I have some aggression to get rid of.” The man grinned and began smacking his left fist into his right hand.

“Do you?” Walter replied in a half frantic voice.

“Well yes and no.”

“Yes what? And No what?”

“Yes I do have some aggression to get rid of, but no I don’t really enjoy it when ex-tenants resist.”

Walter had to ask, “Why is that?”

“Well you see; it’s my mum…”

“Stop,” Walter interrupted, “I think I have heard this story before.”

“Don’t want to listen, ehhh?”

With that Walter sat down on his bed and waited and made a stubborn face of a four year-old. The man picked him up with one hand and tossed him through the window. “Would you like to come back in and try that again?” said the man.

“Um… no I don’t believe so, I’ll just be hobbling down the street.”

“Well have a nice day sir.” The man smiled from ear to ear.

“Thanks, you too, enjoy your day evicting people.” Walter’s voice sounded almost sarcastic.

“I will, I always do.” Walter could tell that the man was very ecstatic about this point; something in his voice just screamed it.

-V-

Yargo (Part 4)

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Walter was full of rage; he did not know what to do. So, as best as he could he gathered his thoughts, took a deep breath, and politely walked out of Mr. Stairwell’s office. Walter went through a list of all the objects that he needed to remove from his ex-employers premises; it consisted of a stapler, two kneed-able erasers, and a green pen and pencil set that his grandmother given to him. While he had devoted a good portion of his life to these objects, he thought screw it, threw them away and left.

The rage had finally found him now, he tossed everything behind him and stormed out of the building. Knowing that things could not possibly get any worse, he ambled into the parking lot with little left on his mind. He thought it interesting to see a small car with green and blue lights in the parking lot. Hmmmm… he thought to himself, I wonder what idiot got himself in trouble today.

With each step he could feel his heart sink. With every crackle of gravel underneath his worn souls he felt that something was improper. To keep with the wonderment of the day he knew that something bad had to be happening to him, it was almost like clockwork (in fact, the knowledge that his car stereo may have been stolen was just dawning on him). The lights began to dance a blue-green pattern across his mind: blue, green, green, blue, blue, it was almost too clear. The police were impounding his car. The jerks had received a call earlier that day about an unsightly trash heap that moved itself onto the corporation’s parking lot.

It was a good thing he lived only six blocks away, so a walk seemed in order. It was the most beautiful day Walter had ever let his senses perceive. The sun was beating down on his back; a small breeze was tickling his chin. The sky was a wonderful shade of purple (the color one can only imagine if they shut their eyes and press in on their eyelids and see the colorful starburst patterns that the mind creates). I feel it is a good point to note here that Yargo is not a place on earth, I had sort of been skirting the issue, but if you recall the color of the grass in first paragraph and while it seems very much like earth, no one could really have this bad of a day. Hopefully.

The smell of the air was so exquisite beyond anything that any reasonable human could describe (to put it into the best words anyone could only come close to understanding; it was like walking into a chocolate store and having nothing but the smell of chocolate invade your nose). In fact the day was so overwhelming that one might not have been able to stay outside for more than an hour without their head exploding. Luckily for Walter, he was brought back to reality with a head on collision into a four-foot in diameter phone pole. After an undetermined blackout period, he got up and headed around the corner to his apartment complex.

-V-

Read Part 5

Yargo (Part 3)

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“Who the heck is it? If you don’t have your crap ready for the deadline, I’m not even going to consider an extension.” Came the voice from the other side of the door.

“It’s me, Walter.” Walter replied in a shaky voice.

“Who?” The voice forcibly requested.

“Walter, I work in section five…”

“Yeah, and I’m the blasted Easter bunny, what the blazes do you want at my door?” Anger was still dripping on each word.

“You asked to see me sir.” Walter replied with a bit more assurance.

“Hmmmm… So I did, well don’t just stand out there with your thumb up your butt, get in here… NOW!!” With that Walter jumped to attention and grabbed the doorknob and started pulling like a maniac. After a couple of seconds he noticed a little sign above the handle reading ‘Push’. Feeling like a moron he opened the door and slowly slumped in.

Mr. J. Stairwell was the name embossed upon the name plaque. The plaque was very elegant, unlike the dirty man that sat behind it. Mr. Stairwell looked like an obese dwarf on a bad day. He had an army of fat rolls around his belly, which was covered, as best as it could, by a t-shirt with the profound statement ‘This is not a beer-gut, this is a fuel tank for my love machine’ placed on it. His hair was brown and had a few dread locks in it, obviously not meant to be a fashion or religious statement. And he had a very distinct odor reminiscent of a fast-food-restaurant trashcan.

Walter thought it his duty to start the conversation before Mr. Stairwell forgot he was there, “So, Mr. Stairwell…”

“Yes… What… What the heck do you want here, I told you stupid people I’m not buying any of your damn religious hogwash. I don’t…”

“Mr. Stairwell, my name is Walter, I work in section five.”

“No you don’t.” Mr. Stairwell stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I distinctly remember working there yesterday.”

“I mean you don’t anymore, muttonhead!”

“You mean you’re laying me off?”

“Well, Walter is it?” He changed disposition to something almost motherly.

“Yes.” Walter was getting angry at his Mr. Stairwell’s insanity.

“I like to think of it as getting rid of useless weight, taking out the trash, actually I prefer the term… You’re fired! You cotch, get your crap and get out of my business”

Walter would have liked to say something that described the true ugliness of this man; how terrible he had been to Walter. How much he wanted to beat the living piss out of this man. How just the mere sight of his putrid body made him want to puke every last bit of stomach lining he had out through his nose (I would not suggest trying this at home). But alas, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Sure be out in fifteen then?”

“You have ten, now get out of my office and off these premises before I send the dogs after you.”

-V-

Read Part 4

Cloud Surfer

Walton was lying on his back alone in his favorite park. He could feel a light fleeting breeze kissing his cheek and moving on to rustle the tree leaves nearby. The sun was playing in the clouds shining rays of light all around him in erratic patterns around him. Birds were busy adjusting their nests chirping greetings to the rest of nature playing around the grounds. Walton let the day wash over himself as he let his mind wonder.

He started imagining his future. What would life bring him? Where would he go? What would he see? Hundreds of different lives passed in front of him powered by his imagination. Each one fully lived and realized in a matter of moments, brilliant and beautiful.

Something shifted in the clouds above him. It caught his attention almost immediately. It couldn’t have been a bird, it moved way too capriciously. Darting and dodging in the sky in ways he had never seen before. Then something incredible happened, the object started falling, and falling fast it was heading right at him. He only had seconds to roll out of the way as the being crashed into the ground where he once was.

Off kilter and a little disoriented, Walton stood up and stumbled back to where he was once lying on the hill. A young girl was crumbled up in a scar left in the soil by her impact. She barely moved, but Walton could see her mid-section slowly heaving to take in breath. She needed help, and he knew he was the only one around.

“Miss?” He tried lamely. He knew she was hurt bad. “Miss, can I help you?” He tried again with a bit more zeal.

“Urrghmmmphff…” was all that the being could manage. She then spit out a bunch of earth from her mouth, coughed and tried again.

“Ugh… That hurt! Did you do that?” She pointed a finger at Walton. “It was you wasn’t it! I was doing perfectly fine and then you, you, you,” she seemed to be stuck searching for the next word, perhaps the crash had affected her mental capacities as well.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I said defensively.

“Of course not, you saw me, you pulled me down here! Stupid human.” She seemed really upset.

“I don’t get it.”

“Your kind never does. I’m a cloud surfer. We are a great race of people that control and work the clouds above you. We control the storms and the skies as we have for millennia. As children we are told to be careful of your kind, and now I know why. Jerk!”

“Well what can I do?” I asked feeling upset that she was blaming me for this.

“Nothing. That’s what you can do. Stupid human.” She hefted herself up and started hobbling away.

“Wait!” I yelled after her, but as I was hollering she dispersed into a lighted mist and floated up into the sky. Some days I think I should just stay inside.

-V-

Yargo (Part 2)

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Walter was a man who enjoyed music very much. He was a firm believer that music soothed the savage beast (and was unsure about the effects regarding the normal beast). Through his hangover realized that he had no music playing in his car, even though there did seem to be a random percussionist beating on a large assortment of items in his head.

He was deeply perturbed when he reached down to turn on the stereo and his hand met with a void where the power switches used to be, he felt he needed to inspect further. The entire rest of drive to work he spent assuring himself that the missing stereo needed a break from the daily grind and would probably return itself to the car later that day.

The trip to work was an exceptional drive for Walter, as he nearly caused six accidents without even being aware of it. He believed that it must have been some newly sanctioned car horn-honking holiday. Every person in a car that passed him had something descriptive to say, but since his muffler seemed to be on holiday with his stereo, he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He imagined they were complementing his extraordinary driving technique.

Walter was surprised that he was able to get to work on time and felt his day was actually starting to shape up, but when he got there some jerk with a red sports car had parked in his parking spot. The hate began to swell up inside of him. He had been parking in this spot for seven years now. How could anyone not know this by now?

He needed revenge and he needed it fast, so he parked his car in the corner of the parking lot, placed his sharpest key in his hand and nonchalantly walked into work. A person with a very acute sense of hearing might have heard a scratching sound of metal on metal, but thank the powers for Walter, no one was around.

Have you ever wanted to be invisible? You might think it would be great (you know sneak into the girls changing room, and what not). But to have no one, save cockroaches, acknowledge your existence (and only because when you happen to step on one it makes a crunchy, squishy noise) is bad. This was the feeling Walter got as he entered is work building.

It probably would not have been so bad, thought Walter, had it not been for the door: when the automatic door doesn’t even recognize you in front of it, then you know you have a problem. He walked smack into the glass door. He had to wait for someone else to come along and actuate the door, so he could get in.

Walter finally got to his boss’s office door, after much rubbing of various parts of his body from other run-ins with objects that didn’t bother to get out of his way like the soda machine in the hallway. He gently knocked upon the door. A sickly, raspy voice as if having had smoked about ten thousand too many cigarettes called out.

-V-

Read Part 3

Yargo (Part 1)

It was a sunny day in Yargo; the clouds were acting as if they were agitated with themselves, staying as far away from each other as they could. The grass in the town square was as blue as dragon’s scales and the sun beat red-green light upon the land. People in the town square were busy with the hustle bustle of daily life, trying to ignore the town drunk, Waldorf.

Waldorf could normally be found hanging around the square begging for any drinks or money (but preferably drinks, and usually the strongest you have, and oh hey is that a flask you have in your breast coat pocket. It’s just; I know what that looks like from the outside and I bet you could spare a swig). Today Waldorf had found himself a new drink of choice, which by smell alone could put hairs on a fully-grown woman’s chest, and take them off a man’s chest at the same. This particular drink was known as Jargon’s special ale.

This ale led to the demise of many a restrained man. And it was one man in particular that had the joy of feeling the after-effects named Walter, where our story really begins. Walter, who stood about five feet eight inches tall when in his stocking feet, had blue-gray eyes and was a rather plain person. He kept to himself most of the time and tried desperately to keep his brown mess of hair as in line as he could, but it was a constant battle that he lost consistently. Right now he was nursing a very strong headache from the previous night’s festivities.

Walter unwillingly woke up at the crack of dawn; he had been told to be in the office first thing in the morning for an important meeting with his boss. He was blasted into wakefulness by ice-cold water spewing from this shower spigot. After three minutes of soap, lather, rinse he couldn’t feel any of his appendages and felt it would be a good time to try and warm up.

Dressing was also a bit of a hassle. Why is it when one needs to be somewhere everything seems to be in the wrong place or just generally slow you down? After pulling on what he felt were his best choice of work clothes from the floor, at least they didn’t stink too badly, he walked outside to locate his car.

The previous night he had gotten himself into all types of trouble he would never have the pleasure of remembering. He fumbled with his keys in the lock. Got the door locked and spun around ready for the hunt. The search ended much quicker than he expected, he found his unsightly black car parked halfway through a young sapling on the lawn of his apartment complex.

It stood about three feet off the ground, resembling a cardboard box, and was held together with so many coat hangers one might have mistaken it for a mobile closet. Being particularly clever (or so he thought), he sauntered up to his car and quickly drove off before any decent being could report him.

-V-

Read Part 2

Gorta Mor (Part 7)

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The acrid cloying plumes of smoke filling the room emanating from behind the counter took the brothers by surprise. They immediately started choking back coughs. The room had a long row of stools lined up against the counter with a copper bar running the length of it. Further back in the room one could barely see a few random patrons at small tables huddled over glass mugs. Behind the counter two gentlemen stood. They looked like mirror images of each other, both wearing black slacks, white button down shirts, red suspenders, white aprons around their waists, full bushy mustaches, and the beginnings of hair loss at the crowns of their heads.

“Ah, customers!” One expounded to the other in an overly British accent.

“Why yes! Our first ever.” The other replied.

The brothers looked at each other in silence. What was this place? They thought as one mind. It certainly was unlike anything they could have imagined from the outside. They looked around the room once more.

“Um, what about those men over there?” Shamus asked.

“Men? Over there?” The first said to the second.

“Couldn’t possibly be, I think they came with the building.” The second replied back.

Shamus and Darbish were thinking that these two guys must have been cracked. Then again, they sounded British, and generally speaking that was the same thing to the brothers.

“So what is this place?” Darbish hazarded.

“Place?” The first countered, “This is not a mere place! It’s a pub! The very first on your native soil, no others exist in all of Ireland.”

“Yes! We really have the market cornered,” the second continued, “You see we bring a drink with us. Lager! It has amazing properties.”

“Properties?” Shamus asked suspiciously, “What kind of properties?”

“Try one, on the house.” The second stated, pulling two beers from the tap and placing them in front of the brothers.

Shamus looked confusedly to Darbish, “On the house? Surely we can just drink it here.” To this Darbish shrugged.

“Oh absolutely and certainly,” the first said, “it’s merely a saying we use back home to indicate that you will not have to pay for the drink. Free of charge, a gift, if you will from us to our very first and finest customers.”

The brothers eyed the drinks distrustfully and gave into their curiosity. As they brought the mugs up to their mouths the rims happened to tap each other and the owners hooted in unison, “Cheers!”

Both the brothers nearly spit out the lager immediately. The hopped up, carbonated fizz hit their pallets like sledgehammers on baby chicks. Their faces turned sour as the looked at each other and they both realized that they couldn’t let the other outdo them. They swallowed the drink and stared in disbelief at the bar keeps.

“That was horrendous.” Shamus started.

“Yes, and I felt no properties you spoke of.” Darbish added.

“Oh, ho ho ho,” The second laughed, “The first one is not where one feels the magic.”

“Not at all!” The first continued, “You need to keep imbibing to get to the magic. But I tell you what. Since you really are our first customers, and we would hate to make a bad impression of it. Let us let you drink your fill for free and you can decide at the end if there’s any magic there.”

-V-

Guru (Part 4)

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Now was time to pay Guru’s bloodlust was running low, and he knew it. He did not want to startle his fellow dwarfs so he kept fighting like a mad berserker, even though he was at his wicks end. As sanity was slowly creeping back into him he realized something drastic must be done. He yelled to comrades to back off and as soon as he had entered the cave. Then he ordered them to blast it shut as soon as he was through. Many of his fellow dwarfs were reluctant, but in his learning’s when some mad dwarf was giving orders you did first, asked later, if you were still breathing that is. Guru ran through the portal and his companions did as he bid. But blowing a cave mouth shut is no easy nor safe task, a few of his equals died facilitating this final cause.

The next part Guru was truly unclear about, he recalled being brought down by some rocks and quite a few drow. His current physical state screamed to kill him while he was down, but for some reason beyond him they placed him in a cell. Most likely to not give him the pleasure of dieing in battle, for a life stranded in an oubliette. It was here he spent the majority of his life living off of rats, and other oddities they tossed in on him, the few occasions that they remembered his existence. Guru was a fighter, he needed to survive so for years upon years he worked at digging his way out. With the only readily available tool being a rat bone one can get very creative.

The day Guru saw daylight once more he nearly cried, but as we all know dwarfs would rather be mangled viciously than cry he held back all the pent up tears. He was glad that the drows must have forgotten him, but he could take no chances. So off he went to the nearest town. Something was very odd to him after a short walk he was rather winded, and needed to rest. He thought back to the days before the invasion, life was so much better then. Then, he thought to himself, how long ago was then. After a half a days walk, he found himself in Xaventry. He must have been gone a long time for this place had never even existed while he was a child. Thinking about his own self preservation he mugged a poor man in some ally, his mind was moving to fast to recall where he was, he needed some different clothes incase some of the drow had realized he was missing. It was then that he ran into a drow in the streets. By gods, had the drow won, and conquered all, he ran like mad, he ran as far away as he could. While running he was attacked by wolves…

From here, this is where Guru came into my care. After the ferocious attack by the wolves, Guru was left fatally debilitated. I assured him that the drow had nowhere near taken control of Alyria. He seemed happy to this fact, but as he smiled you could just see the distancing look in his eyes. As his last breath was expelled from his now chilling body, I thanked him, and he brightened once more. There was a flash of a warrior’s grin, then blank. That my friends, is the Story of Guru, whose name I hope remains on all our tongues as a true hero.

-V-

Guru (Part 3)

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Down in mining shaft number eight, the stuck into a strange cavern. It was here they came across an interesting find; a young hurt drow child was lying in the base of the cavern. The last blast before they found the cavern must have sent some rocks tumbling upon the drow. He was immediately taken to the dwarf healers where he died shortly thereafter. When news of this spread everyone knew something very bad would happen. The drow were a very volatile race, and once they had something set in their minds, they would stop at nothing until they achieved their goal. Guru could feel that rough time were ahead of them. He got to sit in on meetings with his father and the king. He recalled how heated they got; the king and his father knew how grave upcoming times would be. During that time, it would be impossible to pass the kings throne room without hearing some type of shouting within.

Then one day they struck. It was a blitz attack, even though the dwarfs knew invasion was in the air, they were not ready for it so soon. The drows came in waves, just like the unrelenting sea, no matter how many you put down they kept coming. General Gerenuk was at the front line, it was not dwarf like to have the generals in the back giving orders, besides he had the bloodlust in him. His axe swinging, he mowed through the drow like blades of grass. But unfortunately the drow were more like crab grass, every time you finished off one, two more would be in their fading brothers place. They were the ultimate warriors, it seemed that their archaic language had no place for words like fear, pain, and losers, well unless they were applied to those they chose as their enemies. General Gerenuk had personally trained his son, and requested that his son be at his side. So there was Guru, watching the lust take hold of his father as he tore trough countless drow. He tried his best to feel the same way, but alas did not have his heart in it.

Then it happened, all at once, fifteen drow pounced upon Gerenuk bringing him down hard. Something inside of Guru snapped, he saw nothing but red. The world faded into the background, all he saw was the axe in his hands, and fifty or so drows that would be considering the idea of waking up that morning a rather bad choice. Like a flash of lightning he passed unseen though the crowd of drows, leaving a trail of blood and corpses. With this new hope the dwarfs had renewed spirit and rallied behind him, mostly because in front would have been a shortsighted choice. Guru was a refreshing juggernaut for the dwarfs, he instilled hope where all was lost; mostly he killed drow like it was nobodies business. With Guru leading them they pushed the drow all the way back to cave in which they had come. That cave, the place where it all started, with that accidental blast terminally injuring a clandestine drow.

-V-

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Guru (Part 2)

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“I am afraid I have some terrible news about your friend,” he said.

“To tell the truth, I just met him, but what is this news you speak of?” I replied.

“I have done as much as I can for the… man…” he seemed hesitant at this point, “but I am afraid there is little to be done, he is at his end.” At this the healer sighed.

I could feel that something more was behind his words. “What else are you not telling me?” I inquired.

“Well… whilst I was trying my best at restoring him, I came across some things that are very interesting.”

“Well out with it man…?” I implored.

“For one, your man here is not actually a man. He seems to be wearing stilts under his pants to make him taller.” He came closer to my ear and whispered, “I believe he is a dwarf, sir.”

“And…?” I asked, wondering why any dwarf would need to disguise himself as a man.

“It seems he has a tattoo on his left arm.” The healer said blankly.

“So?” I replied.

“Well it is a very ancient tattoo, only one that dwarves high up in the really old culture would have, but no dwarf I’ve seen the my life has ever had one like this.”

“So, tell me, what all is to be done with him?”

“The only thing I can suggest is to make him comfortable…” With this the healer went back into the room. I followed, and paid him for his services. Then I picked up the dwarf and walked him back to my hotel room. Laid him upon the bed and waited.

It was at this point I reflected on my own death. This is certainly how I would want it to be, in the company of a fellow warrior, as my last life’s breath were leaving me. While I was pondering this idea, the dwarf stirred. I was to my feet almost immediately.

“Graahhck,” he said slightly muffled in the pillow.

“How may I help you, sir?” I questioned.

“Ah… an Alyrian,” he stated, “I need to tell my story before my life is gone.”

“Please do,” I pushed, “I would be glad to pass your story on to generations that come after both you and I.”

His voice was very gruff, and his grasp of the Alyrian language was a little muddled, but I will try to recount as much of his story as I can here:

The Dwarf warrior’s name was Guru; he was the son of Gerenuk, who happened to be King Degnar’s high general. He told of when he was mere child, how the dwarfish empire sprawled all over the place. He used to spend time at his fathers side while they made tactical plans of where they should conquer next. He recounted playing out in the high grass with his young friends; they had no fear of anyone. The dwarf empire under King Degnar was the strongest anyone had ever seen. No one dared to mess with any dwarf at that time. Everything felt like it was in harmony. Then one day it would all be changed forever.

-V-

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Guru (Part 1)

Gather around now children, as I recount a story I remember from my younger more agile years…

It was on one of my many voyages that I happened to be passing through Rune, and stopped at the Griffon Hotel for the night. I had had a long and eventful day while traveling, and I needed rest badly, but for some reason sleep was not coming easily. So I left my room and staggered to the front desk, where I inquired about the local scene in Rune. The clerk was very helpful, and told me about the many pubs that were around town. I seized his advice and took to the street. Whilst I was traveling down Yew court, a thief snuck up behind me, and placed a knife in my back.

“Give me all your gold, or else,” he stated.

“I haven’t anything of value,” I replied, but he insisted.

“Well, I am afraid you must pay somehow, not good business if I let everyone run away.” While he was babbling to himself, I unsheathed my sword and swung around fast. He was very agile and intelligent; it was no surprise that he expected this. He was quick to parry my blow, but that is when I saw a hole in his defenses. I quickly kicked at his leg sending him flat on his back. Then I fled as fast as I could down Yew court, and turned at the first intersection I could. I found myself on Main Street, following this street lead me to town square, where I quickly recounted the directions the hotel clerk gave me to the closest pub. So I headed down Main Street and turned down the first ally I saw. This led me to the Perplexed Otter; this is where my night truly got interesting.

I sat down and asked the barkeep for a beer, what I got could be mildly called a drink of some sort. Its color was strange, similar to pond scum, and the flavor truly different, similar to pond scum. I sat back, took a swig and decided this was truly relaxing. Just then a nondescript man stumbled into the bar, bleeding on everything.

“Halloo, what is this?” I asked, “What happened to you?”

“Mrrrpphhhh,” was all he could expel, and then he was out cold.

I looked up, obviously the only one who seemed to care. I could not get one person to share eye contact with me, it seems that I was alone in this pub. Seeing the general heartlessness of the patrons, I decided the best thing I could do was to yell for help. Luckily a city guard was passing by and he heard my call. He was quick to enter, and understood the graveness of the situation. We rushed the man to the healer in the Runic Temple. I waited outside to the many screams and maddening sounds that took place in the healing room. Then, after most of the agony seemed to subside in the room; the healer came out to talk to me.

-V-

Read Part 2

The Traveler

“I never thought much about the man,” I recounted to my friend. “He was just there on the trail sometimes. Most times he wasn’t.”

“Yeah? So what? You saw a guy on the trail, and?” Janni wasn’t a very supportive friend, but you take what you can get sometimes. I’d just known them so long they sort of became my best friend by default.

“I don’t think you get it,” I replied a little exasperated, “I followed him.”

“Oh, so you were creeping on him?” Her expression was a little tongue in cheek, “that’s nice.”

“No!” I quickly asserted, “I don’t think you understand what I mean. I didn’t stalk him or anything, I just happened to be behind him when it happened. Riding at my own pace on my bike on one of those perfect days. You know the kind: sun out but cheating behind the clouds on a regular basis, mid seventies, light breeze, but not enough to make pushing into the wind a hassle. Anyhow…

“I knew it was him from a distance. He always wears the exact same outfit, always has his large white beard trimmed the same way. The wisps of white hair beneath his wide brimmed hat always carefully groomed into the same position.”

“Are you sure you weren’t stalking him?” Janni interjected.

“Absolutely NOT!” I held my eye contact with her a little longer than I normally would, it was slightly uncomfortable, but I needed to be sure that she was taking me seriously. This had done the trick she was taken aback. “It may not show on my face, but I’ve been gone a long time.”

“Long time? I was hanging out with you just last week.”

“I’ve been away for years, but time and aging work different there. I really wish I could explain it better to you. It was brilliant and a nightmare all at the same time. But that’s not the point. The point is the man.”

“Are you feeling okay?” She asked with concern showing deep in her face.

“Yes!” I screamed. I just needed to get this out. I need to get my point across. I didn’t know how long I had. I calmed myself and continued, “yes, I’m absolutely fine, but I’m sort on time and need to tell you about the man before I have to go back.”

“Go back? It doesn’t sound like you really want to.”

“I don’t,” I assured her, “but I don’t have a choice in the matter. They will be coming for me really soon. Listen, it’s all about that man. Everything is related to him, he is the center of this. I never should have gotten caught in his wake, but I did.”

“What do you want me to do?” She asked. I think I was finally getting through to her.

“I need you to…” They came. They plucked me from our reality before I could finish. I will always wonder how she reacted to that. I just hope she doesn’t try to follow me here. That would be the absolute worst thing she could do. But perhaps that was their plan all along, I’ll never know.

-V-

Ferryman Gregg - Line Up

There is a land where the dead convene to ‘live’ out the rest of their days, but to get there they must first cross the place in between. The landscape here is barren and flat with reds and yellows as far as the eye can see. Snaking through the middle of this land the river gives the only passage through. The Styx lies in a region of the universe between the land of the living and the land of the dead.

If one were to look at the clouds near the entrance one would notice a very opulent and tacky sign that reads, “Welcome to Hades!” Below this sign there is a rocky outcrop with a long series of stairs that lead to a velvet rope by the rivers edge. And if one were to look really closely they would see that the stairs and the pathway was queued fully up with souls of all types and sizes.

“I want some candy!” One of the souls bursts out looking longingly at a random candy machine along the path. The candy bar machine is in a small cove with two other machines, one selling Charon Soda and the other selling Hades Hot Fries.

“Yeah, so do I, but they always rip you off in these situations. I bet it costs a lot of dough for just a simple candy bar.” Another soul replied back also staring at the vending machines nearby.

“Nun’t un, says right here: ‘One Coin’.” A third soul piped in and pointed to the sign with his tail like tendril.

“What should I get?” The first soul asked after slithering up to the machine and using one of his arm-nubs to put a coin into the machine.

“It’s all bad for you anyways, so what does it matter?” The second soul replied.

“I guess I could try this one,” the first soul said as he used his tail to push a button. A candy bar floated out of the machine and into the souls left nub. He looks at it and starts gnawing on it.

“So… How is it?” The third soul questioned.

“Eh… So-so…” The first soul replied in muffled tones.

“Heh, figures.” The third soul said knowingly, “Which candy bar did you pick?”

“Yeah it kind of does. I’m not sure, I think it was a Cerberus Choco-Lotto.”

“Wow with a name like that you’d think it would taste amazing.” A random soul added into the conversation.

“Yeah, pretty much how advertising works, the crappier the product the better the name.”

“So uh, that candy bar cost one coin, eh?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?” the soul replied nearly done with his candy bar.

“Um, isn’t that how much it costs to get across this river?”

“Yeah and?” The soul finished the sweet at this point.

“How many coins did you bring with you?”

“Oh,” the soul finally realized the folly of his choice, “um, I guess I’ll have to try and figure something out at the dock.” Worried about all the terrible ways this could end up for him.

-V-

Gorta Mor (Part 6)

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“And I suppose you think you can do something about it?” Gorta Mor said as he hefted himself up to twice the height of anyone else in the field.

“There are many ways we could stop you! Firstly we could restrain you.” Darbish started. Gorta Mor just smiled as the skies grew a little darker and the wind began to pick up.

“Then we will make you go back and replace every potato you destroyed.” A small cloud appeared above them and the breeze started to have little gusts.

“And then we will make you apologize to each and every person in Ireland personally.” Darbish was finding it harder to continue with the distracting and changing conditions around him, but he carried on as the small cloud expanded and the air bordered on a gale.

“Next, we will…” With each word shouted from Darbish’s mouth the conditions worsened ten fold, he tried to endure, “make… you…” He couldn’t keep on, the weather developed into insane bursts of thunder and lightning cracked in the near distance. No words would be heard over this tempest. So Darbish gave in and stopped his monolog.

With his last word uttered the world quickly returned to just as it was before. Gorta Mor launched into a hearty laugh. He took a deep breath and exhaled on the brothers. The blast of air knocked the brothers back, it was sickening and cloying. They both fell to the ground gasping for fresh air.

“Nothing you said had any affect puny man. There isn’t crumb diddly you can do to stop me. In fact, for your insolence I think I will take this girl as a payment. You have wasted enough of my time, now be gone with you!” Gorta Mor then picked up Jenny and moved off into the distance cursing the potatoes as he went.

The brothers, defeated, ambled down the road they came, kicking stones and thinking to themselves how weak they truly were. Shamus spotted a strange building in the distance; it was like no other the brothers had ever seen before. It had the word ‘Pub’ on its signage along with an etching of a yellowish stein and a frothy head spilling over it.

“What do you suppose that is?” Shamus asked Darbish.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen a shop called a ‘Pub’ before, it looks like they sell drinks. It must be some kind of eatery.”

“Shall we?”

“I don’t see why not, its not like we have anything better to do. Why couldn’t we do anything to help her?”

“Darbish, he had way more power than we will ever understand. I don’t think we ever stood a chance.”

“Perhaps, but I’m sure there’s a way to beat him, I just wish we knew what it was.” Darbish was pounding his fist in his hand as he said this. They looked at each other for a few moments and silently agreed that there was nothing they could have done. Heads hung low they entered the pub.

-V-

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Gorta Mor (Part 5)

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Jenny watched as the brothers sped down the road away from her. She thought that at least following these guys would keep her mind off her starving children. So she followed them down the road.

“Wait up!” She called after them. The both stopped dead in their tracks and once she was with them they set off at a steady pace. After a few hours of travelling the trio find a field that is only half ruined. Feeling that they might be able to glean something from this sight they all rush into the field.

“What do you suppose is causing the blight?” Shamus asked.

“Only half of this field is gone, perhaps we will find out.” Darbish answered.

Bent over in the middle of the field they could see a demon talking to the potatoes. He seemed to have lost control of his mental faculties and is damning each potato individually. As he put his curse upon each potato, it would wither away and die. The three travelers all feel the horror at once.

“What are you doing?” Yelled Darbish at the demon.

“What am I doing?” The demon turned away from his work and gave an appraising glance at the travelers. “I’m fixing a problem. Ireland used to be a wonderful and lush land to live in. The animals thrived, the plants blossomed and bloomed plentifully, the sun shone down on the land and in return it smiled back at the sun. This expanse used to be astonishing and remarkable. All my brethren loved to spend time here. Then one day, the despicable and detestable humans came along. They tore at the loam. They ripped at Erin’s heart. They forced more spuds, taters, and tubers into her and made her use her life force to sustain them.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t do any of that.” Shamus said dismissively.

“You!” The demon seemed enraged at this interruption, “You absolutely did do this, you and all of your kind. I can hear her weeping at night. I feel her pain as you plough and pull and till.”

“We are just like any other animal here,” Jenny threw in, “we all deserve the right to live off of the land. Who are you to tell us otherwise?”

“Who am I? You ask,” the demon seemed to take Jenny in for the first time. He sat a moment and pondered if it was even worth his time to convey his name to the filth that had become his enemy. “I am Gorta Mor. I look after Erin and protect her from the likes of you. I will destroy the consumption that you have created in her, and happily take you with it.”

“I’m afraid we can’t let you do that Mor.” Darbish forcefully explained to the demon. This caused Gorta Mor to sneer at the misuse of his name. “We need these crops to survive, we will not die like this. We will endure and carry on, and you won’t be able to stop us.”

-V-

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Fumpsy (Part 2)

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“My name is Gromus, and yes a badger is not normally found around these parts.” Gromus said, as he sidled to the left. “I have been travelling for days now in search of a particular healer.”

“A healer?”

“Yes, you see I was wounded in the great battle to the north, and I am in need of repair.”

Fumpsy looked hard at the dejected badger, and found that he was gripping haughtily at is side. The fur was matted and covered in dried blood, mixed with remnants of mud as a poultice. Fumpsy examined the rest of the beast, Gromus was at least twice the size of Fumpsy, and his fur was a drab gray. It looked, however, that he used to have a bountiful dark shimmering coat once. His eyes were a blued-gray that hinted at a creature who had seen many indelible acts, most likely dubious in nature. Gromus' brow furrowed as he noticed that Fumpsy was intently studying him.

“You look as if you’ve never seen a badger.” Gromus stated.

“Well…” Fumpsy replied, “I have, but never up close. To tell the truth, only in pictures that my father used to show me before the great famine.”

“Great famine?” Gromus inquired.

“Yes, about five years ago, the soil stopped giving decent fruit, and the streams and lakes became poisoned with disease. Margus, the sage owl, explained to us that the lands were unhappy, something was creating a division within her breast.”

“Five years you say?”

“About five, yes. It was after the first year that my father passed. I was disheartened, but I have a family to take care of, so I had to be strong. We have survived on what we can find, but sometimes that almost isn't enough.”

“What name do you go by, young hare?” Gromus questioned.

“I am Fumpsy. I’m a simple rabbit.”

“Well, Fumpsy if you help me out, perhaps I can find it in me, to help you. You have no idea what I can do for you, but just know this; my word is as good as any real thing you'll ever find anywhere. What do you say?”

The hare considered the question. The badger could be a great asset to him, Gromus was strong and large, and at the very least he could be intimidating if the situation ever called for it. But why should he trust him? Fumpsy was unsure. He felt that perhaps it would be in his best interests to ally with the badger, what was the worst that could happen?

“Gromus, I think we can be allies. What is it you need for me to do?”

“I heard you mention a sage owl… Margus?” Gromus said with a raised eyebrow. “Would it be possible to fetch him? I have a feeling he will know exactly how to patch me up.”

“Yes, I can certainly do that! I know exactly were he is at this time of day. I’ll be right back.” Fumpsy turned and hopped off into the forest heading towards Margus’ home.

-V-

Gorta Mor (Part 4)

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Jenny had just been walking through the field looking at the devastation that had been wrought upon it; all of her crops were dead or dying. The tears welled up in her eyes as she considered what this meant for her family, without food her children would starve. While considering this she saw what looked to be a viable plant and rushed over to it for further inspection. But when she got close enough she saw that the potato has been exposed to the sunlight and turned green, thus making it poisonous. She looked up to the sky and screamed for guidance, or anything really that will get her through this impending doom. She found herself hunched over with her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

When the McDerbin brothers got closer to the field, Jenny looked up tears in her eyes and gave a solemn nod to the two passers. Darbish does a double take, and Shamus is left with his mouth gaping open. Jenny was the picture of beauty. She has long curly flowing red hair to the small of her back. Her eyes reflect the pale blue of the skies above. And to say she was shapely would have been an understatement; her form was reserved for goddesses. She was what every woman wished they looked like, and the brothers both saw and felt it right away.

“Hello, My name is Darbish, and this is my less distinguished younger brother, Shamus.” Darbish quickly said before his brother could speak.

“Ah yes, as my geriatric brother has already said, my name is Shamus. I would do anything for you, just name it, and it’s yours.” Shamus said as he stepped in front of his brother.

“My name is Jenny,” she replied wiping tears from her eyes. The antics of the brothers seemed to lighten her mood for a moment. “You’ll have to forgive me. You see the farm my family owns is being destroyed by this famine, and I don’t know what to do. I have children to feed, and my husband is long since passed.”

This news elated the brothers. Jenny was single! Sure she had some kids, but weren’t they both just discussing how a family might be nice. And one that’s already started is a quick and easy place to start.

Jenny started to figure out what was going on, it had been so long since she had anyone vying for her affections. When her husband had died she became very introverted in that respect and only took care of her children and her farm. Romantic endeavors were not something even considered.

“I tell you what. My children mean the world to me, and I can see that you both are very nice and kind men. I’ll happily marry the man who can end this blight and assure me that my and our future children will never go hungry.”  She said thoughtfully.

The brothers looked at each other, then at Jenny, and once again back at each other. A smile grew on their faces as the both in unison turned back to Jenny and simultaneously said, “You got it!” They both then rushed off down the road tripping over each other to be slightly in the lead.

-V-

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