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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the conclusion of this great story from enderandrew, entitled
Bob the Wizard

Vol IV

The past few months have easily been the most terrifying of my life.

My waking hours are filled with dread. I never know if I am safe. I feel an invisible leash, as if the Obsidian Sorcerer I robbed can track me by it.

I’ve barely spoken to anyone more than is absolutely necessary. I don’t want to draw attention to myself in case spies report my location. I’m leery of everyone. And frankly I don’t really care much about them or how they see me now.

Before I craved their attention and my smattering of fame, even though I earned it as a charlatan. I felt it was my own form of power. But it was a pale imitation of true power. I understand that now. I’ve seen just the smallest sampling. This gem, if I can call it such, radiates far more power than I’ve ever held in my lifetime.

In truth, it speaks to me. It terrifies me to commit the words to paper. I’ve begun to question my sanity. The only reassuring thought is that a sane man wonders what is real and seeks to question it. The insane man is devout in his delusion. I know every answer lies within this gem more than the tome that describes it.

The tome speaks of transformative powers, how the Obsidians used it to shape men into fomorians to serve their will. They experimented in different ways to bend and alter men into different creatures. But it wasn’t just flesh that was shaped. These creatures were imbued with unique abilities and powers. The satyrs never sleep, for example. The Obsidians were quite careful not to give their thralls too much power. They did not want their newly created weapons to be more powerful than the arm that wielded it.

But I have no such reservations. I knew how the gem called out to me. It told me how I could use its powers, all of them. To free myself of my current predicament, I would need to do precisely what I had always dreamed of doing. I’d need to take this shard, this small fragment and consume every ounce of power it contained. I’d need to have true power within myself for the first time ever.

I would shape myself they like they shaped fomorians. I would become a true wizard like the persona I pretended to be. And when I was done, I would no longer run. I would let my pursuers know precisely where to find me. I’d do my best to lay a trap.
I assume after “The Terrifying Cluck” this isn’t what you expected of Bob the Wizard. Chapter 5 is the end of his backstory, but you may see him again in the future.

Vol V

They knew I would be in the barn at night, sleeping away from prying eyes. I had no obvious defences that would alert someone to my presence. I relied entirely on stealth, hiding as I have done this entire time I’ve been on the run.

I had no wards, no traps when they found me. I was quickly surrounded and I offered no resistance, merely an offer. I held the tome aloft in the air as they approached. I warned them if they ever wished to recover their precious shard to wait. With my death they would find nothing. But if they agreed to let me go, I would give them back both the tome and tell them where their shard was.

They seemed unconvinced and I sensed they would still attack, taking their chances that they could capture me alive and torture me for information.

I warned them of the danger I presented. I told them I had letters stored in each city I had visited. If I did not come back to claim them, they would be opened. I detailed the hidden presence of Obsidians among us. I would expose them.

They paused now as I explained that I did not know who I robbed initially, but I have a great fear and respect for their power. I was willing to hand back what was stolen because I realized I was meddling in something far greater than myself.

They did not realize that this entire time I was stalling, I was also mesmerizing them. They continued their slow advance on me, but also fell more into my grasp. What stood before them was not me, but an illusion. I stood hidden behind the Obsidian, cloaked in her shadows. He never saw my dagger slit his throat.

The satyr reacted immediately either to the gleam of my dagger or the spurt of blood. But as he struck, I was no longer there. I had teleported to just outside the barn door. I blasted him back with a fireball, and then closed the barn doors. I barred them securely as it went up in flames. I did not stay to listen to his screams.

I hear the voices so much clearer now. At first I wasn’t aware it was multiple voices, so that is why they confused me. Poor Daedalus is fractured. There were two moons, equals, opposites and star-crossed lovers. Then they became one largely in the destruction of the other. It is in this joining Daedalus should have rejoiced but she truly feels loss. The fragmented pieces are gone, lost on this earth. Part of her love has been torn away, and that is now part of her that is missing. These shards still contain a piece of her, but they have their own confused voices.

Either I have gone completely insane where it would be far easier to shed these last vestiges of sanity and stop worrying, or I alone hear her call and I alone understand. She wants us all to be together, to be as one. We don’t always have to be apart. She knows how to transform us, and transform this land. She can bend one place to another with her rifts. I have given myself fully to her lessons.

I serve her, but she also serves me well.

I am once again a traveling wizard for hire, but I no longer need tricks when her illusions are so much more powerful. I earn my coin, bide my time and await her instructions. Her voices will guide me.
I would test my new found powers on them. Would I be successful? The gem thinks I might. I’m not sure if I should trust it. But I have no better alternatives. One way or another, this waking nightmare will end soon.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a great story from enderandrew. It is entitled
Diary of Bob the Wizard

Vol I

Reality is defined by our perception of it. Magic is the art of altering reality. If I can subvert their perception of the world, then I’m altering their reality. In that sense, I am a wizard. I just use different methods than most.

Some accuse me of chicanery and legerdemain. Technically that is true, but that doesn’t mean I’m not doing magic in my own way. The minor tasks I’m frequently employed for can usually be accomplished by mundane means. People are just too lazy or insecure to do so without the belief that they have magical assistance.

So when I tell people I’ve enabled them with ritual or some magical fetish, I am helping people. How dare they accuse me of fraud or theft? The ungrateful vulgarians!

I may not be entirely honest in all of my phrasings, but people looking for magical solutions really only want to be baffled and assuaged really.

I don’t think they realize that magic is more rare these days than past tales indicate, though those could all be falsehoods. Scholars and historians like Joorus the Scribe believe magic was fundamentally altered with The Fall and the cannibalistic consumption of a sister moon that led to Daedalus.

That is possible. But does it matter what magic might have been in the past if that magic is now unobtainable? Either we can discover new magic now, or we do our best to fake it to placate the masses in exchange for gold.

There are worse professions out there. Those that are so eager to hand over their coin for baubles and reassurances will do so for someone at some point. Why shouldn’t I then be the one to relieve them of their gold they are so wont to spend?

Vol II

There is a funny thing in pretending to be an expert in something. The more you know about a subject, the more convincing you are in pretence. You’re encouraged to study the skill you approximate. With anything else you might reach a point where it is easier to just legitimately learn something, but magic isn’t so simple. Not everyone possesses the initial spark and I doubt if it can simply be learned.

I’ve been a bit defensive in the past in this journal. I’m not sure if anyone will ever read it. I keep it private currently for obvious reasons, but perhaps someday a historian will inquire about my work. If I am slandered I hope someone will uncover this in time and allow my version of events to defend me.

I may not have any actual control over arcane arts, but I have spent considerable time studying any text I can on the subject. I figured that if what I said was consistent and accurate with what any other wizard said, then I would simply be that much more convincing.

But now it is becoming an obsession. I’m a little jealous now that there are pioneers rediscovering magic who can do some truly incredible things. I’ve been improving my illusions and tricks to mirror some of their feats. But I must admit I’m also hopeful that if I study enough I might unlock some latent talent in me.

The concept of magic has always fascinated me. I’ve always seen myself some day wielding great power.

I have a plan. To date I’ve only spoken to rubes to make money with my act. I’ve never tried to convince real practitioners of magic of my ability. I’m thinking of hosting and assembling a magical symposium in Rift’s End.

If I gather magic users, I can study them directly up close. If any of their magic appears to be driven by physical talismans and fetishes, I might be able to purloin one. It will also be a useful test to see I can fool my would-be peers.

If this is the last entry in my journal, then it will be readily apparent that this was not a good idea. But fortune favors the bold. Risk can lead to great breakthroughs.

Vol III

My last entry was somewhat prescient. It was not my last entry. But there was great payoff for my gamble, and it was somehow simultaneously a terrible idea.

My act held up well enough. It was easy enough as an organizer to constantly ask questions of others and divert away any serious attention from myself on having to demonstrate real magical ability. On the few occasions that someone asked me to demonstrate my approach or ask about my methodology, I would chuckle and deflect the question by saying “my methods are fairly well covered in my early texts. I’d be a poor host merely flaunting my own findings. I am here to be a humble host by seeing what I can learn from alternate approaches.”

Of course my early texts are intentional vagaries designed to create the appearance of competence so I can sell my “magical” services to anyone ignorant enough to hire me. No one called me out on referencing my early works. Had they cited any ambiguity, I would have claimed to have even earlier works than those that perhaps they hadn’t read.

I think most of the attendees were genuinely excited to speak with each other and learn. Magic in New Britannia had been effectively reset since The Fall four centuries prior. Either the nature of magic was truly changed on a fundamental level as many had claimed, or it was just that all prior knowledge was lost with the cataclysmic event and the chaos that followed.

In the Age of Survival, literally more pressing needs for food, shelter and security pre-empted more academic pursuits. In the Age of Warring Cities, rediscovering magic suddenly became a concern but most had little to start off with. Some of the earliest success was with Chaos magic, but was understandably unpredictable. (Note, if I am ever really forced to prove my ability, I will use the unpredictable nature of Chaos magic as a further excuse).

It was in the third age that magic really came to life again. Many of the biggest advances came from a group that history hasn’t treated too kindly, the Obsidian Cabal. I’m not one to judge morality too harshly given my career path. But Obsidian magics are so reviled by historians that I have never been able to study one of their texts.

I’ve long desired one of their tomes, but I thought it out of my reach. But then a funny thing happened.

I noticed that one of the attendees at my symposium never once took notes, and rarely spoke up. Some wizards are known for exceptional memorization techniques and not everyone cares for social niceties. But this man was not shy or obtuse. I found him often staring intently at others, but usually not the given speaker at the moment. He was sizing everyone up. He wasn’t here to learn new magical techniques because he was that confident that his own prowess and methods must already surpass all of them. Furthermore, the way he sized them all up suggested to me that he might find himself at odds with them.

I could think of only one group that would find everyone as an enemy and would be that confident in their magical knowledge. This man must be an Obsidian, as impossible as that sounded! Some had speculated that the Obsidian Cabal never truly disappeared, but merely went underground (metaphorically or literally).

I knew immediately that if there was one attendee I wanted to steal from, it was him. Since he was visiting Rift’s End and staying in temporary accommodations I knew his security would not be as good as his home lair. A dishonest life has led me to acquire several skills of questionable legality and morality. Picking his lock was not difficult.

I must have set off some magical security however as some elemental pet was instantly summoned to the room. I found myself exceptionally lucky that as it lunged forward to attack me, I was able to aim my wand right in its open mouth and fire the fireworks charge hidden within. It was stunned enough for me to finish the job with quick dagger strikes.

I scanned the room looking for my prize. I found a tome and a large gem, wrapped several times over again in cloth. I ran and have been running since.

More than a few nights since I’ve survived only because of my ability to hide. But I’ve seen some of the creatures stalking me. I know that if I was ever found, I would suffer greatly.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a wonderful story from Themo Lock, entitled
Thug Life
Background music by Smartsound

Cavendish brushed the pine needles from his crimson pants and adjusted his hood nervously, it was time to address his men. Cavendish was the forty-second leader of the Serpent’s Spine branch of the crimson bandits, a group that had only formed two months previous. He would be lying if he were to say that he was not concerned with the average life expectancy of the groups management positions, but at least it was somewhat higher than that of the rank and file. For reasons known only to the upper echelon of the organization, his group had been charged with the task of holding the foothills and exacting a “tax” from any interlopers. The area could only be described as “hostile”, being home to countless wolves and giant bears who had their own idea on who the regions rightful owners were. And now there were the outlanders… beings of great power that would periodically pass through laying waste to the region before carrying off entire trees, piles of bandit weaponry and mountains of bloody hides. He had once seen an outlander slain by a pack of wolves only to witness the man return minutes later to resume picking at a vein of copper in the cliff side. Cavendish shuddered and pushed the memory to the back of his mind, he had business to attend to.

He pushed aside the canvas flap and stepped from his tent, confidently striding over to the nearby clearing where his men stood to attention. “Where are the others?” he asked gruffly “This meeting is not optional”. A slightly overweight bandit in shabby, torn clothing kicked at the dirt with a scuffed, unpolished boot “This is all of us sir” he mumbled. “What?” Cavendish boomed “Where is Black Greg and Olaf?”. The portly bandit winced before answering “Wolves sir… there were just so many”. Cavendish rubbed at his eye with the palm of his hand, Black Greg was his brother in law and this was not going to sit well with his sister at all. “Alright… well that is unfortunate” he stated “I am sure they did us proud and died bravely and well”. A taller bandit with hair the colour of sun dried straw spoke up this time “Not really sir, Olaf sort of panicked and tried to run but Greg used him as a human shield…” Cavendish interjected at this point “Yes well, these things happen in the heat of battle i guess “. Unperturbed, the lanky bandit continued his recollection of the fight “… and i am pretty sure Greg soiled himself”. After a brief moment of disrespectful silence, the bandit leader sighed “OK men, we work with what we have.” he declared “Caynis, what news from the upper pass?”. The portly bandit spoke up once more “Caynis is dead sir, a bear threw him off the upper pass”. At this news, Cavendish spun on the heel of his boot and marched back into his tent to compose himself.

The bandit leader breathed deeply in through his nostrils and slowly released his breath through thin, trembling lips. He was giving serious thought to the possibility that crime did not pay and wondered if his uncle would still take him on as an apprentice lamp lighter in Ardoris. Screams erupted outside, along with the chilling sound of magical fire being summoned into being. Since the bandit groups last mage had accidentally blinked herself off a cliff some days previous, this could only mean that the camp was under attack. Cavendish briefly contemplated impersonating a bedroll before drawing his short sword and launching himself out of the tent with the best battle cry he could muster, a sound that could only be described as an enthusiastic gargle.

The scene that greeted his eyes outside the tent froze the bandit leader in his tracks. A huge circle of fire was before him, within its perimeter the roasted remains of his men crackled and spat like overcooked pork. At the epicenter of the unnatural blaze stood a small girl, clad in bright pink cloth robes and playing a merry, otherworldly tune on what appeared to a home made set of bagpipes. The girl marched around in circles squeezing the instrument completely unharmed by the flames as she kicked at the lifeless bandits, presumably in search of loot. This was no mere mortal, this was an outlander and the bandit leader suddenly felt that being anywhere else but here would be desirable. Cavendish slowly began to back away but collapsed to the ground with a loud thump as his footing was compromised by a palette of week old cabbages, the bandit groups sole source of nourishment. “Don’t make eye contact” he yelled internally “don’t make.. OH SWEET LORD I MADE EYE CONTACT!”. The girl calmly raised a tiny, well manicured hand and smiled sweetly. The last thing Cavendish witnessed in his brief role as a bandit lord was a burst of flames erupting from the bagpipes and a white hot ball of fire hurtling in his direction.

Some days later, Helgrid the bandit stood at the edge of a circle of charred earth and eyeballed a group of fresh recruits. She was the forty-third leader of the Serpent’s Spine branch of the crimson bandits, a group that had only formed two months previous. Her outlook was positive and her dagger was sharp, she had big plans for this company of bandits and there was work to be done.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the next exciting instalment in
The story of Kobold Skrek’Kex
Written by Kobold Skrek’Kex
Background music by Smartsound

Chapter 3
Skrek’Kex nervously paced the living room in his dwelling. Heading out to search for a dragon! And all because he had wanted to eat a tiiiny slice of pumpkin pie – it was really unfair. His stomach rumbled in agreement. Well, a kobold must do what a kobold must do. And although kobold expeditions had the tendency to end deadly and in general were rather uncomfortable affairs, there were positive aspects about them, too. First and foremost, redeeming himself in the eyes of the fearless leader. It also held a certain allure to the cunning kobold, to go where not many kobolds had ventured before. There were so many secrets to learn, tricks to be played, things to be borrowed… If he played this just right, he’d be greatly rewarded and forever held in veneration. Skrek’Kex vivid imagination showed him himself, riding on a huge spider-beast, followed by a trail of obedient human slaves carrying chests of loot, back into the Caverns of Skrekk. He saw himself riding along the narrow cavern corridors, lined with kobolds all aah-ing and ooh-ing in deep respect for the dauntless explorer. He held a huge iridescent dragon scale, craftily made into a kobold-sized shield for the Grakkhaz, which had been gifted to him by the dragon as a sign of their alliance. The dragon he had been able to persuade into alliance with the kobolds in exchange for the incessant devotions of his worshippers, the dragon whose voice he would operate from now on.

A loud knock startled Skrek’Kex from his day dreams. “Yeeesssh?” he asked. Without further ado Zap’Hex entered. Skrek’Kex bowed deeply before the old magician, partly out of reverence for the wise kobold and partly ingrained after years of attending his teachings – and beatings. And promptly the older kobold hit Skrek’Kex on his head with his pine staff. Stunned Skrek’Kex fell onto his bottom “Yoouch…” rubbing his head with one hand and holding the other up protectively he cautiously looked up at the elderly kobold. Zap’Hex narrowed his eyes and hissed “You fool! What in Kurtulmak’s name possesses you to these follies? I know you are not stupid, but sometimes..!” Shaking his head and sighing the elderly kobold sat down onto a kobold bench. “I was of a mind to just let the Grakkhaz know what it was *really* you brought him there.” The old mage harrumphed and hmphed some more, shaking his head. “Kex… I hope one day you will learn the wisdom of looking ahead before acting.” Skrek’Kex, silently, thought to himself that this was an unfair assessment. He had looked ahead – there had been pie to be had. In his opinion Zap’Hex truly and foolishly undervalued a good meal.

“Anyways” Zap’Hex continued after the silence had lasted for a while “I have not come to lecture you again on this, but I have come to make sure you leave prepared. Do not underestimate the task ahead of you. Even though the Grakkhaz is going to send a sizable exploration party, dragons are moody and erratic even at their best. And there will be more than just dragons. Here in Norgard we know the neighboring hooman tribes, we know their follies and their weaknesses, we know where they camp and where they hunt. But the mainland hooman tribes are different and mostly unknown to us. It has been in my grandfathers-grandfathers days we last sent an exploration party this far. To be honest, it might be too ambitious a task to survive, but the esteem our tribe could garner if we only had a dragon to worship… With the hoomans hunting them the dragons have become careful and most Elder Dragons have removed themselves to more remote places neither us nor the hoomans can easily reach. The foolish younger ones which still hunt close to the hooman lands mostly don’t grow old and are not worth worshipping. This Elder Dragon, if the tales are true, is of exceptional wisdom and might. If we can ally us to him…”

Tapping the end of his wand to the floor the elder kobold again shook his head. “Well, it is no use to talk of things that could be. As I said, unknown perils and dangers wait where you are going, and even though you will not go alone, I advise you to enlist more help. Do you remember the summoning lessons?” Skrek’Kex nodded eagerly. He had often summoned a lesser imp to employ as a distraction for the cook at school. Useful little devils, but also quite a bit unreliable and gluttonous, which had lastly lead to some painful quarrels over the spoils of their deeds and to Skrek’Kex deciding it wasn’t worth it.

“I have brought you a book.” Carefully the old mage unwrapped a large, worn volume from the shielding envelope he had carried it in. ‘Liber Magni de Incantationibus’ was written in large, dark red letters onto the cover. The binding felt smooth and cold to Skrek’Kex touch as he gingerly took the volume. Carefully he used his index claw to turn the pages, filled with mythical incantations and diagrams. The book had to be very old judging from the brittle state of the paper, it was also missing some parts here and there, some pages were singed or unreadable because some liquids had been spilled and left dark red stains onto them.

“I trust you to choose a companion for the travel that will be of use to you. Unfortunately, the book is enchanted in a way that makes it impossible to copy. Many pages are too damaged to safely summon from them, I know. Most of the lesser demons though can still safely be summoned and will be a valuable aid in your travels as they will be able to hold watch over you even when you get tired or spy on the hoomans for you, even when you would be easily spotted. Keep in mind though, that every deal has it’s price.”, the old mage spoke. “You can have Eeza’bel return the book to me when you are finished”. Without further ado the old mage turned and left Skrek’Kex, who had been all too fascinated to listen, alone. Here was a page about Belgior, a demon prince, and how to prepare the needed sacrifice to ensure his indulgence, here a page on a species of flying demons, used in earlier wars as spies and to drop cursed fire on the enemy. He’d show the Grakkhaz and Zap’Hex that he was worthy, he would honor them and then impress the dragon, too, with his powerful demon minion!

Swiftly he turned to prepare everything. He had chosen a fearful eight legged demon beast with the head of a hawk and the body of a snake. He’d be able to ride it and scout for the explorers, with it’s eight clawed legs it should also be a great asset in battle! Even the name – Baal’Awk the Abominable – would make his foes cower in fear! Carefully, sticking his tongue out of the side of his draconian snout, Skrek’Kex set a circle of salt to bind and protect himself from the demon so he could make a pact with him. Looking through his vials he found one with a fire elementals ‘blood’, dried to a powdery substance with which he drew a pentagram and a circle inside the circle of salt. As seen on the instructional diagram he placed 5 candles at the points of the star that had been cast during a new moon. Whetting his claw and turning the page he continued the instructions. Curious, the page felt thicker than the last one underneath his scaly hands… but he disregarded that and continued. Finally he was ready to speak the ritualistic words that would summon the demon and bind it to obedience. Beginning with “Te accerso magnum daemonem. Adiuro vos nomine Hastur et Belial… Per robur aquae et ignis, tenentur. Audite!” he continued on with the lengthy incantation, calling on old bonds and times forgotten. Soon, the room grew darker and a sulfurous smell manifested. Excitedly the small kobold continued his endeavors, his incantations continuing louder, his voice urgent. He hesitated for a moment at a passage about harvest and crops, but then decided that it was probably all right and continued. And suddenly, with a wailing sounds, and in a dark grey-purplish cloud a red eyed, black feathered turkey manifested. “AWWWWK!” it crowed. And again “AWWWK!!” picking at the herbs thrown into the pentagram for the incantation.

Skrek’Kex was baffled. What had gone wrong..? He was about to step through the salt-barrier when suddenly he remembered a lesson about a demon who had tricked his summoner to just do so and then had devoured the careless fool. Ah, surely it must be a mighty demon, to think of such a plot, to disguise himself as a harmless turkey, genius! “Youse bound by me now, no eating Skrek’Kex!” he ascertained and spoke the ritualistic words to bind the demon to him. The demon/turkey again just awwwk’ed, maybe a bit more content because of the twig with thyme he had found. Skrek’Kex spoke the correct words to banish all unbound demons before destroying the barrier and nodded, pleased with himself, when the turkey/demon did not vanish. He had successfully bound a mighty demon! Tapping his foot impatiently he waited for the demon to reveal his true form. But he did not change. Instead the turkey/demon kept pecking at some left over scraps of food he had found close to the table, eyeing Skrek’Kex with a certain intelligence from his red, wary, beady eyes. Certainly, very convincing turkey behavior. “Well, we’se will speak some other time.” the kobold finally conceded “Have your way, maybe it is even clever to not let the others know…” he mused. “We will leave for the mainland in the morning.”

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the next exciting chapter of
The Story of Kobold Skrek’Kex
Written by Kobold Skrek’Kex

Background music by Smartsound

Chapter 2

Skrek’Kex was unable to wind out of the vice like grip of the much bigger Kobold and whimpered a little. What had started as a fool proof plan was certainly not going as he had expected! The great hall they had entered was dimly illuminated by torches. It was decorated in classic Kobold, lots of metal and red velvet dominating the scene. In the middle of the great hall on a dragon bone throne sat a huge Kobold scaled in a sickly green and yellow. He was not only very tall for a Kobold but also possessed immense girth which his studded leather jerkin and pants struggled to contain. On his clawed fingers he wore bejewelled golden rings in abundance, and his head was adorned by a large bear head, the teeth having been replaced by craftily cut rubies.

As Skrek’Kex and his escort entered, the great Grakkazh was busy whacking a Kobold in a purple and orange jester’s dress on the head with a turkey drumstick. “Nooo!” he bellowed at the jester “Grakkazh not like! NOT FUNNY AT ALL!!”. The jester ducked and whimpered “Me’se sorry for not pleasing Great Grakkhaz! Njoghgrok can do another trick, please!” The Grakhkazh had meanwhile noticed Skrek’Kex and eyed him with disdain. With a dismissive gesture towards the jester, who gladly and hurriedly left the room, he turned toward the guard “Why you bring trash in my hall, Kraz’Boom?” suddenly his eyes narrowed “HAS HE DONE SOMETHING TO MY PRECIOUS BARBELED DRAGONFISH?!” he shouted, and before having ended the sentence the Grakkhaz, with an astonishing speed for a Kobold his size, had jumped up and violently knocked the dinner table in front of him over so that the plates and tumblers on the table flew across the room.

“No, oh your magnificent Dreadfulness!” Skrek’Kex hastily squeaked while he cowered in anticipation of another violent outburst. “Skrek’Kex would never touch holy fish! Accident with holy fish last time was a very bad misunderstanding, Skrek’Kex swear!” after the dreaded beating had not happened yet Skrek’Kex relaxed a little and, from his cowering position, looked up at the Grakkhaz who now stood in front of him, tapping his claws impatiently against the shaft of his huge spiked mace. “So?” the Grakkhaz asked. Skrek’Kex nodded hastily “Me’se bring important and troubling news from the hoomaz! Facing grave dangers, all for the good of the tribe, Skrek’Kex has managed to acquire this from the stores of a mighty wizard. Me thinks the hoomaz are planning to attack!” he explained and eagerly presented the Grakkhaz with the crumpled paper.

Impatiently the Grakkhaz snatched the paper from Skrek’Kex outstretched claw. Turning it up and down and left and right he harrumphed a few times meaningfully. Although the Grakkhaz was far from stupid, he had never learned to read anything but basic Kobold. There was always one of the skinny brainy types around to do his bidding in exchange for a non-beating after all! After a few more acknowledging grunts the Grakkhaz felt he had shown enough that he understood the importance of the document and bellowed “Zap’Hex! To me!” And only a few moments later a small gnarled Kobold in purple and golden robes with an intricate feathered headdress walking with the help of a silver cane entered the hall from a door in the back. “Yes, your Maleficience?” he asked “Do you have need of my services?” With a grunt the Grakkhaz shoved the even more crumpled paper towards the court magician. Zap’Hex gingerly tried to smooth the paper out and with his index claw pushed his wire frame glasses up a bit. Relaxing a little at the sight of his old mentor Skrek’Kex couldn’t help but notice that unfortunately none of the pie crusts, that had been left over and now lay strewn across the floor, had landed close enough for him to try to stealthily pocket them.

After a while Zap’Hex sighed and shot a meaningful glance at Skrek’Kex who in turn managed at least to look a *little* embarassed. Zap’Hex of course was not fooled by Skrek’Kex’ story, he had studied the humans and their customs for decades and promptly and adequately had decided the note was meaningless. Still, he decided against telling the Grakkhaz of Skrek’Kex blatant lie. Skrek’Kex was a nuisance, a liar and a thief (even more than most Kobolds) but he had his talents.

Zap’Hex had taken on Skrek’Kex as a student in the past until he had been forced to expel him from the courses because he wouldn’t stop “borrowing” the chickens, kept at school for some of the nastier experiments, to roast them and sell them to the other students during lunch breaks, he was also caught multiple times selling the other students’ alchemical copper pots on the market, when he could get his claws on them, and even drawing in his fellow students book so they would get their incantations wrong resulting in some nasty accidents with demonic surprises. Still, he had been talented as only another handful he had trained, if he had only seen the long term benefits of refraining from immediately breaking all the rules so he could learn the skills to break much more later… but Skrek’Kex had never been one for long-term-goals.

The Grakkhaz, whose attention had been fixed on Zap’Hex, failed to notice the quick exchange of looks and impatiently asked Zap’Hex “What do you make of it? What are the hoomanz up to?” Zap’Hex weighed his answer carefully “Well, this is certainly a *fascinating* document here, but in regards of an attack plan, I… can’t be sure. I think it prudent to send out a group to investigate.” The Grakkhaz nodded his agreement “We will send Zod’Utgrakhz, Drab’Farkh, Bang’Grakh and Slit’zhok” turning towards a guard he motioned him with his hand “Notify them they are to gather intelligence, Skrek’Kex will lead them to where-” Zap’Hex coughed, interrupting the Grakhhaz mid-sentence, bowing his head slightly in apology “As for Skrek’Kex I have another proposal, if the Great One would care to listen to his humble advisor?”

Although not pleased the Grakkhaz motioned the old court mage to continue “I have heard rumors of an Elder Dragon close to the human settlement of Serenite. As Skrek’Kex is quite adept at human customs and language and also skilled in the magical arts I want to send him and a handful of trusted Kobolds to investigate there if the rumors are true. An Elder Dragon our tribe could serve would be great news to all.” With a fanatic glint in his eyes the Grakkhaz nodded agreement. “An Elder Dragon! By Gaknulak, this – if true – is great news!” turning to Skrek’Kex “You will head out immediately after everything is prepared.” Skrek’Kex could only nod. It was an honor to be sent out to search for or pledge allegiance to a dragon – if only they weren’t always so hungry. Skrek’Kex hoped he Grakkhaz would send enough Kobolds with him so the odds of being eaten would be low…

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the first instalment of a wonderful tale from Kobold Skrek’Kex.
It is entitled

The Story of Kobold Skrek’Kex
Background music by Smartsound

Chapter 1
A rich smell of flour, sugar, nutmeg and pumpkin wavered through the small rocky paths of the Caverns of Skrekk and found its way into the eagerly quivering nostrils of a small brownishly scaled Kobold stopping the creature right in its tracks. “Oooh, pumpkin pie!!” the creature thought to itself and eagerly rubbed his clawed hands together. Trying to track the scent the Kobold turned his head left and right and quickly began following the scent through the convoluted caverns. “Out of the way! I’se is on urgent buziness!” Skrek’Kex exclaimed when another Kobold was blocking his much desired path. Following the turns and twists of the caves, the delicious smell intensified. Finally, Skrek’Kex was standing at the entrance to another part of the caves, but found his way blocked by a gate and a tall, well muscled Kobold with red and black scales. The big Kobold looked with cold yellow eyes down onto the much smaller Kobold. “Go away, Dobkop!” the Kobold blaffed, baring his impressively long and pointed teeth and gripping his Polearm tighter. Skrek’Kex stopped, taking care to not stand to close to the guard, and trippled nervously from one scaly foot to the other. “B..But I’se has urgrnt buziness with…” taking a quick look at the sign proclaiming whose residence he intended to enter “the Grakkhaz!”. “Psh, Skrek’Kex such a liar. Why would important Grakkazh want to meet with tiny weak liar?” the guard shook his head, then pointed with the polearm at Skrek’Kex. “Now offse you go or I offse your head!” he said and swung his polearm in a quick strike that made Skrek’Kex jump back a little.

The small Kobold was conflicted. He really *really* wanted some delicious pumpkin pie, but alas, one could not eat pumpkin pie without a head. The Grakkazh was also notoriously ill-tempered and through a series of misfortunes, which were totally not Skrek’Kex’ fault, as the Kobold had assured himself and also the Grakkazh repeatedly, the latter to no avail unfortunately, he was not sure if it was wise to be seen by the Great One after such a short time again. But, then again, it was pumpkin pie, the second most delicious thing known to Skrek’Kex. The only thing better than pumpkin pie being of course fish. Skrek’Kex produced a crumpled paper from his pocket. He had pocketed this from one of his latest expeditions into the human territory. He had liked the colorful markings on the paper although he had not been able to make heads nor tail of it. The written words on it were hard to read – even harder than most human handwriting for Skrek’Kex had studied humans and acquired some skill in their tongue – and the sketchy drawings placed at odd intervals on the page had no apparent relation to anything Skrek’Kex had ever seen. There was even a drawing of a figure with a human upper body and a fish tail on it, Skrek’Kex found that very odd. He had never heard of such a creature. If he ever found such an animal he’d love to eat it though! “Lookse, I have found plans a mighty hooman wizard made!” he said, waving the child’s drawing in his hand. The guard hrmphed, then came closer to take a look. “I think they want to attack Skrekk!” Skrek’Kex pointed at some words on the paper and a crude drawing of a Norgard Knight. “It is most urgent I should show this to the Grakkazh!”

The guard slowly pondered the matter. Skrek’Kex was a known nuisance in the caverns – but he was also known to be clever and often ventured into the human territory, gathering useful tidbits of information (and mostly food for his own stores). He’d be in trouble if the little rat really knew something, and not only Skrek’Kex would get in trouble, the guard thought to himself and decided to admit the smaller Kobold. Sensing the change in the posture of the other Kobold Skrek’Kex rejoiced silently. So so close to the delicious pie! Excitedly he trippled close to the guard who turned to open the gate. Just as Skrek’Kex wanted to pass the guard grabbed him at the shoulder. “Youse coming wit me. Bringing you to Grakkazh pe-so-nally.”

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another wonderful story from Cianna. It is entitled

They Call her Lady Warrior, Chapter 4

(This is the continuation of the ongoing adventures of Cianna and Nick)

Background music by Smartsound

Friend or Foe?

Cianna sat up gingerly, raising a hand to her splitting head. She found herself half-propped against an old oak tree. There was no sign of Nick, nor the two ruffians they had been fighting.

“What the blazes happened,” Cianna asked aloud, still rubbing the knot on her head.

“You all right, miss?”

Cianna turned sharply, groaning as the world spun around for a moment, then settled her eyes on a guard standing a few feet away. He, too, was gingerly rubbing his head.

“You all right?” he repeated, concern showing on his face.

“I think so,” Cianna said, trying to stand. “Did you see the men who were here?”

“I saw two of them, briefly.” He smiled ruefully. “They took a sword hilt to my head as soon as I walked up to them. When I woke up, you were the only one here, milady. And by the looks of it, you took a sword hilt to the head, as well.”

Unlikely, Cianna thought to herself. She had taken down her combatant and had turned to help Nick. As it turns out, he had already taken down his opponent, as well. So who hit her? she wondered. That only leaves…

“Nick.”

“Beg pardon, miss?”

“Nothing, good sir, nothing. I’m just a bit muddled right now.”

“I hear ya there, miss. Well, if you’re sure you’re alright, I’ll be off to make a report to my superiors.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

The guard made his way to the road and headed back toward Soltown, making a parting wave at Cianna as he went. As soon as he was out of earshot, Cianna exploded.

“Nick, you son of a whoring kobold!”

“Whoa, whoa, little lady. Is that anyway to speak to your betrothed?”

Cianna whipped around, looking for the owner of that familiar voice.

“Nick? Where…?”

“Up here.”

Cianna looked up. Nick, trussed and dangling from a sturdy tree branch, swayed above her. “Hello,” he said, grinning.

“By the Four, how did you get up there?”

“Well, I had some assistance.” He squirmed a bit as the ropes cut into his wrists and ankles. “A little help might be in order here,” he said.

“No.”

“No?” Nick looked down at her in surprise.

“No. Not until you tell me what happened.” She glared up at him. “Did you hit me?”

“Hit you? Milady, I can’t believe you’d even say such a thing. Hit you? Not if they held my feet in fire and tore my tongue out. Not if they cut out my beating heart and fed it to a dragon. Hit you? Never. I am deeply wounded you would even think such a thing.”

Cianna felt her anger begin to dissipate.

“But…” he continued, just as she was about to smile.

“But…?” she said warily.

“I might have magicked you just a little.”

Cianna’s voice became brittle.

“You did what?”

“Um, used magic on you. Just a little. Hardly worth mentioning at all. Really. Just a little stun.” His voice faded off.

Cianna stood looking up at him, a stunned expression on her face. She felt her aching head again.

“Hardly a little stun. Why in the Lady’s name would you do that?” she asked.

“Well,” Nick said, “I just…um…just wanted to keep you safe and I…um…was afraid you’d try to get those men to take you to Rats Nest and…I told you, it’s just not safe there for someone like you, and…um….” His voice trailed off as he saw the look in her eyes.

“Someone like me?” Cianna said coldly.

“You’re…well, I know you’re an experienced swords woman, I saw that with my own eyes, but Cianna, you’ve led a protected life, I can tell. You were raised as a gentlewoman. You really don’t know what men like that are, how little they care for human life. You just don’t know.”

Cianna stared at Nick for a moment, her eyes clouded and seeming to look beyond the glade where she stood.

“Don’t I, Nick?” she said, finally.

She brushed the dust off her armor, then looked for her sword. “Damn it, did they take my sword?”

“‘Fraid so, milady. Mine, too.”

“Serves *you* right,” she muttered to Nick.

“I’m heading into town to buy a new sword, if I can find a decent one there. Then, I’m afraid I have to be off. I have a couple of men to track. It was good seeing you, Nick.”

She started off toward town and heard Nick begin to sputter.

“Wait! Cianna! You’re not going to leave me here, are you? You can’t do that!”

Cianna whirled back to face him. “Can’t I?” she asked with a smile. “You will have to learn, Nick, that while I accept your friendship, gladly, you have to get over this ridiculous idea that I need to be rescued, not from those men, and not from myself. I have a mission, something that drives me, and I *will* see it through to the end. If those men can help, I must speak with them. And if they can’t, well, we’ll see what happens when the time comes. But if you’re going to be my friend, you have to learn to respect my decisions.”

She walked partly back toward the tree where Nick hung, and smiled up at him.

“Someone will be along soon, I’m sure, to cut you down. This road gets lots of foot traffic. But I have to leave you there now so I can be sure you won’t try to stop me again.”

“Cianna, I promise….”

She stopped him with a look.

“Goodbye, Nick, for now. I’m sure we’ll meet again someday.”

She threw him a wave over her shoulder as she walked back to Soltown proper. A small part of her felt guilty for leaving him hanging.

“You there, boy,” she called to a child playing in the road.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Will you do me a favor, young man?” Cianna asked, pulling a coin from the small purse hanging from her side. Odd, she thought, that her attackers didn’t take it. Perhaps they were having too much fun hanging Nick. The thought brought another smile. She held out the coin.

“Here, this is yours if you’ll wait ten minutes and then go tell the guard that there’s a man in a tree back there that needs help getting down.”

The young boy’s eyes grew wide. “A man in a tree?”

“Yes, he’s somehow got himself hung up in the tree. So will you do that for me? Wait ten minutes and then go inform the guard?”

The boy nodded his head vigorously and pocketed the coin.

Cianna smiled at him and continued her walk.

“Boy,” she called back over her shoulder. “On second thought, make it twenty minutes, please.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will.” He grinned and ran off to see the man hanging in the tree.

Cianna entered town and began looking for a weapons master. There was still much work to be done.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the next exciting chapter in this fascinating saga from Cianna. It is entitled

And Then There was Nick, Part 2

Background music by Smartsound

“All right, spill the beans.”

Cianna had kept quiet as long as she could. When she and Nick left the Soltown tavern after their near run-in with the men from Rats Nest, they turned left, past a small scattering of houses and shops, and towards the woods where they would find privacy. Cianna waited for Nick to speak, but he seemed lost in thought, his gaze slowly surveying the woods before them.

“Nick?”

“Hmmm? Oh, sorry. Was just wondering what those men were up to.”

“Why should you care?”

“No reason, really. I just wouldn’t want to see anyone get hurt.” Cianna stopped walking and stared at him.

“What?” he said, noting the exasperation on her face.

“You are a walking mass of contradictions, do you know that?” she said. “First, you want to be part of whatever those men have going on, now you’re worried about people getting hurt. Which is it: are you a good guy or a bad guy, a gentleman or a cad?”

Nick chuckled. “I think you will find, milady, that all men are a bit of both.”

They walked a few more paces in silence.

“Cianna, there are reasons you need to be careful about who you make friends with in these parts, especially when you travel as a woman alone.”

“I told you….”

“Yes, yes, I know. You can take care of yourself. And I don’t doubt that for a minute. I saw you in action the day we met, remember?”

Cianna smiled at the memory. Returning to Aelasar’s Forest after one of her reconnaissance missions, she made a quick stopover in Brittany to stock up on supplies. There, on the waterfront, she found a rather inebriated Nick lying on the ground with a grizzled old man holding a knife to his throat while another went through his pockets. She dispatched the pickpockets with ease, took Nick to a nearby inn, and sobered him up.

“I should have left you there,” she said, laughing. “Would have served you right. But that was nothing, Nick. I really am quite capable of taking care of myself. I’ve trained long and hard to get where I am, and I carry the title of Lady Marshal to prove it.”

Nick whistled. “Lady Marshal is it? I’m in even grander company than I thought.”

Cianna bristled, then relaxed with a laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so grandiose. But I am extremely well trained, and I am experienced in actual fighting, too. More than you’ll ever know.” The last part was said as a whisper.

She averted her eyes so Nick wouldn’t see the sudden pain there, but it had seeped into her voice, as well. Nick opened his mouth to speak, but Cianna cut him off.

“Tell me about those men,” Cianna said. “The ones you said belonged to the Baron.”

“No, they don’t belong to the Baron. Baron Drocis Fondorlatos has only one interest and passion in life and that is the pursuit of magic: black, white, good, bad, ancient, modern. He doesn’t care, as long as it brings knowledge and power with it. He does, however, own the town of Rats Nest, where he lives. It’s a pretty lawless place, since the Baron turns a blind eye to whatever goes on there. There are only two rules in Rats Nest: don’t mess with the Baron, and pay your taxes on time. After that….” Nick shrugged.

“He sounds a bit intimidating. Is he a powerful wizard then?”

“No one really knows, Cianna. He keeps to himself. Rarely ventures out. It makes one wonder what he wants all of that knowledge for, though.”

Nick plucked an apple from a roadside tree and offered it to Cianna. She shook her head.

“So, what interest did you have in those men in the tavern?” she asked as Nick bit into the apple.

“I was hired to trail them. My, uh, ’employer’ has had several supply caravans robbed in the last few months and whenever it happens, these two men seem to be around. They’re also suspected of strong-arming a number of merchants in the land, extorting coin and supplies from them in exchange for not burning down their businesses.”

“That’s awful!” Cianna cried. “Why are they allowed to get away with that?”

“People are afraid, Cianna, so they won’t bear witness against the men who are robbing them. They don’t know who’s behind all of this. It could be the Baron. It could be the Novian Elves. It could be anybody at this point. And without proof, well, I may not like them, but I’m generally against hanging innocent men.”

“So, you’re trailing them in order to…?”

“To find out who’s employ they’re in. If we can take care of it from the top, it cleans out all the layers underneath. There’s no point in killing just two men when there are 30 more who can take their place.”

Cianna was lost in thought for a moment. She kicked a rock with her boot and watched as it skipped down the dirt road. A gentle breeze blew across the road bringing the smell of flowers and food from the tavern behind them.

“So why the pretend drunkenness all the time, Nick? Are you trying to throw them off guard?”

“Who says it’s pretend?” Nick laughed. “But yeah, people tend not to take much notice of drunks. They blend in to the background more or less, which is a perfect place to eavesdrop on conversations.”

“You weren’t really drunk that day at the waterfront, though, were you,” she demanded.

He grinned, and for a moment he looked like a young boy engaged in a game of Dueling Knights. He didn’t answer, and Cianna smiled back at him.

“What will you do now? You’ve let them get away. You’ll lose the trail.”

“Oh, I didn’t let them get away, Cianna. They haven’t left yet. In fact, they’re in these woods watching us right now.”

As he finished speaking, a pair of rugged men emerged from behind a small grove of trees about twenty yards ahead of them. Cianna instinctively reached for the the hilt of her sword.

“Easy, girl,” Nick whispered beside her. “Wait till they’re closer.”

They watched as the two men sauntered toward them, their drawn daggers glinting in the sunlight. Beyond them, Cianna could see a town guard sprawled on the ground. Unconscious? Dead? She couldn’t tell.

“Well now, boys, we meet again. Have you decided to take me with you after all?” Nick called out cheerfully. “Just let me get rid of the little lady here and I’ll be ready to go.”

“She’s going nowhere,” the taller man answered, exposing a missing tooth as he grinned at Cianna. “The two of you are coming with us.”

“And what if we don’t want to?” Cianna said, her hand still on her sword.

“Well,” said the man, “I guess we’ll just have to persuade you then.”

He swung his dagger in a wide arc towards Cianna’s face, just missing her cheek.

“Be a shame to mess with such a pretty face,” he said, leering at her. “You sure you don’t want to come with us willingly?”

In a flash, Cianna had her sword in hand and was bearing down on him. She could hear Nick behind her in a scuffle with the other one.

“You okay?” she called out to him.

“Yeah, I just threw some dirt in the poor sod’s eyes.”

“Nick, didn’t anyone ever teach you to fight fair?”

“Nope,” she heard him reply, laughing. “What’s the point in that?”

She grinned and turned her attention back to her attacker. “Now, let me show you what this ‘pretty face’ can do.”

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a wonderful story from Cianna Danaan. It is entitled
And Then There Was Nick, Part I

Background music by Smartsound

Cianna jumped as the door to the Soltown tavern burst open with a clatter and a rush of cold air. The soft, plaintive melody she’d been absentmindedly playing on the piano died away. A youngish man, clearly the worse for drink, stumbled through the door. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, pushed his cloth hood off, and glanced around the room.

“Barkeep! Barkeep! Another round, if you please.”

“Ya haven’t had your first yet, mate.” The grizzled old man behind the bar said, laughing. “At least not here. But you’ve definitely had a few rounds somewhere else, by the looks — and smell — of ya.”

The scattered patrons in the tavern laughed, the young man joining in with them.

“But, isn’t this the Fire Lotus Tavern, good man? It’s not? Hmmm, I could have sworn I was in Owl’s Head.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I seem to have lost a continent. Well, no matter, let’s remedy this problem on the spot. Barkeep, my usual, if you please.”

The barkeep beckoned with his finger. “Come here, my boy,” he said, a look of bemusement on his face.

The young man swayed as he ambled up to the bar, leaning across the counter so he could hear the barkeep. “Yes, my good man?”

The barkeep whispered, loudly, so the room could hear, “Seeing as you’ve never been here before,” he said, “I don’t know what your ‘usual’ is. Do you see my problem, mate?”

As the crowd laughed again, Cianna rose from her seat.

“He’ll have a whiskey,” she said. “You can bring it to my table.”

Everyone turned to look at her as she spoke, the young man turning a bit slower than the rest, trying to maintain his balance as he went. He looked at her in confusion for a moment. Cianna thought she saw concern pass over his face, but if it was there, it quickly vanished.

“Milady? Is that you? By all the Watchers in Adoris, it is! It’s you!” He turned to a hefty man sitting on a stool near him. “It’s her!” he said to the man. “The love of my life, the apple of my eye, the….”

Cianna strode forward and gripped the young man by the elbow. “Quiet, please, Nick. I don’t care for too much scrutiny in public.”

“Shhh, shhh, yes, milady. I understand, I do. I’ll be quiet. Quiet as a….as a….”

“Foghorn?” said the barkeep, stepping past them to place a whiskey on Cianna’s table. “Anything more for you, miss?” he asked.

“No, I’m good, thank you.” She handed him coin for the whiskey.

Cianna steered Nick to her table, helping him to maintain an upright demeanor. She pulled out the nearest chair and guided him into it. She looked him over with a smile lurking at her lips as she sat down again.

“So, we meet again. How are you, Nick?”

“Ahh, but it’s good to see you again, milady.”

“Stop with the milady business, will you? Cianna’s good enough for me.”

He raised his eyebrows, then took a sip of whisky. “Cianna it is, then. Only trying to be respectful to my lady love.” He winked at her.

“I’m not your lady love, Nick. We barely know each other.” She laughed at his pouting face. “It is good to see you, though.”

“And it’s grand to see you,” he said. “Your beauty brightens up the day. Puts the very sun to shame, and makes the moon cry in his cups.”

Cianna laughed again.

“Your laughter is cruel, madam. You break my heart.”

“Nick, I’m quite sure that you flatter all the young women this way, and perhaps even the older ones, too. The girl who takes you seriously will get her heart broken, I fear.”

“But, I do not mean to flatter you, milady, I mean to woo you — with love . . . and perhaps a little whiskey?” He held his glass out to her with a smile.

Cianna shook her head, still laughing. A movement at the bar caught her attention. Two men had entered the tavern and were ordering drinks. They looked rough, as though they had ridden for days without stopping. The conversations in the tavern had gone quiet. Even Nick seemed more subdued.

“Who are they? Do you know?” she asked. He held a cautionary finger to his lips.

“Well, look who it is,” he bellowed, turning suddenly in his chair and sending it crashing beneath him. He grinned up at the men from the floor. They scowled before turning their backs on him.

“Barkeep! Another round!” Nick called out, struggling to his feet. He rose and clasped both men by the shoulder, not seeming to notice their obvious annoyance.

“What brings you here, gentlemen? You’re a long, long way from Rats Nest. Is there something good in the works? Anything I can help with?”

“Shut up, you idiot,” said the tallest of the two. “Barkeep,” he yelled toward a back room, “make it quick with that order!”

“Stocking up, are you?” Nick asked in an exaggerated whisper, moving in close as if to hear a secret. “What’s in the barrels they’re packing up, boys? Come on, you can tell ol’ Nicky.”

The second man pushed Nick away roughly. The barkeep returned and took their money. “Is it all there?” the tall one asked.

“It is, damn you,” said the barkeep. “Now get out of my establishment. You’re bothering my customers. And tell the Baron not to send anymore of his…residents…to me. I don’t like doing business with the likes of you.”

“Boys, boys,” Nick called out as the two men headed for the Tavern door. “Cut me in on the deal, won’t you? I could use a job. And the Baron speaks very highly of me!”

The door closed loudly behind them. Nick stood still for a long moment, then returned to sit beside Cianna.

“What was that all about?” she asked. “Who are those men?”

Nick’s thoughts seemed far away. “They’re from Rats Nest. An island town off the Northwest Coast. Not a particularly nice part of the world, I’m afraid.”

“You mean they’re outlaws?” Cianna asked.

Nick grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that genteelly, but yes, they’re outlaws.”

Cianna stood quickly.

“Hey, what…? Where are you going?”

“I have to catch up to them. I need to talk to those men.”

“Whoa, girl, hold on a minute.” He grabbed her arm. “You can’t go running after men like those. You’ll get yourself killed, or worse. Those are tough men, and they wouldn’t waste time being polite with you, if you catch my meaning.”

Cianna’s eyes blazed. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much. And you don’t understand. I must talk to them.”

“Okay, okay, sit down and explain it to me.”

“But they’ll get away! Let me go, Nick!”

He held firm. “Not until you tell me what’s so damn important that you have to chase after men like that. Besides, I can tell you where they’re going. You can follow them — if you still want to — when we’re done.”

Cianna struggled for a moment more, then sighed and sat down.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked, as she glared at him.

“Am I?” Nick furrowed his brow.

“You seem to have sobered up rather quickly.”

“Ah, yes, that.” He glanced around the room. “Listen, let’s get out of here. We need to talk.”

Without another word, Nick lurched to his feet. “Come, milady, let’s take a stroll around this fair town. I’m in need of fresh air and your charming company.”

“I’ll give you charming company,” Cianna muttered to herself. She rose and took the arm that was offered to her. Nick leaned heavily on her for support.

“If you fall flat on your face out there, I’m leaving you where you drop,” Cianna warned in a whisper.

“Ah, my angel, I do so love when you say sweet things to me.” Nick waggled his brows at her. In spite of herself, Cianna laughed.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another great story from Them Lock. It is entitled
The Hanging Tree
Background music by Smartsound

The elder dryad of Grunvald has long been dormant. Deep in the forest, nestled within her sacred grove, she had taken root and entered a cycle of hibernation that would last one hundred years. Her delicate frame had grown strong and tall, towering above the canopy in the form of a massive oak tree. Her presence enriched the very soil for miles around her, invigorating growth and warding off disease. Immobile but aware, the forest had grown vibrant and flourished around her and for a time she had known joy in its purest form.

She initially became aware of the outlanders presence when the first trees were felled, the distant harvest at the very edge of her realm stung her like a salted lash. She had reached out with her mind, sending forth the predators of the forest in an attempt to bring the intruders to justice. But one by one the creatures consciousness were lost to her, victims to the same axes that had murdered her wards. Saddened, the dryad poured her energy into the forest in an attempt to heal some of the damage. But the massacre had only just begun, as each day passed more and more axes tore at her forest as stones were driven into the soil in an ever expanding scab of roadways that delved ever closer. Nothing slowed the brutal advance, she had summoned thorns and brambles and swarms of biting insects to no avail. Day after day, month after month and year after year… she was losing ground.

It was twelve long years before the monsters reached her. Frozen in place, she stared down at them with fury as the horrid creatures took shelter from the sun beneath her boughs. If she could move she would eviscerate them, but move she could not. It was one week later when her heart splintered and broke. Her sacred grove, her children, her greatest loves were taken from her. Before her eyes axe and saw tore her babies from the earth, their bodies dragged aside, drawn and quartered. Her silent screams sent out a shockwave that caused panic throughout the forest, birds took flight and deer bolted, all life for miles sensed her pain and fled… all except the outlanders. In the days that followed, her wailing continued as, with horror, she looked on as the dismembered remains of her family were crafted into a great hall.

Like maggots in the rotting corpse of her grove, the outlanders grew quickly in number, a forest of human structures sprang up around her in cruel mockery of her loss. The green life that once surrounded her was replaced with cold, grey stone and the air was filled with the unbearable stench of burning wood. They had made her a captive, a centerpiece, a trophy of war displayed at the very heart of their lifeless, ugly settlement. The weight of foot traffic compounded the pain of cobblestones that bit deeply into her network of roots, causing her great pain and cutting her off from the outside world. As far as she could tell, all life had been wiped out. She was utterly defeated and so very alone, she had begun to will her own death to no avail.

As a stage was constructed at her feet and ropes hung from her boughs, the dryad could not help but wonder what fresh torment her captors had in store. A crowd of the stinking beasts gathered at her feet, jeering and calling out as a trio of outlanders were led to the ropes, hands bound behind their backs. In horrified amazement the dryad watched on as the creatures were hung by their necks from her limbs. She felt the life slip from their bodies as they dangled and twitched from the ropes… they were killing their own kind!. Over the years many such executions took place, and she grew to take pleasure from the act. After decades of tortured misery she had come to delight in the fear she sensed in the condemned. Sanity had long since abandoned her, she had forgotten her own name and all that came before her captivity. Now she had a new name, a name that gave her purpose… her name was Hanging Tree.

And then it happened. At first she thought she had imagined it, but no. Ever so slowly, over several days… she clenched her outstretched, woody hand into a fist. Ninety years had passed, her hibernation cycle was nearing completion. Her mind raced, the fires of hatred flared brightly within her, soon she would be mobile. In ten short years time she would tear herself free from this polluted soil and finally make her true presence known. Oh and how the outlanders would know her. She is rancor, she is retribution… she is Hanging Tree, and she will hang them all.