More more storyness...Follow

Well, since it's been a while since I worked on it, I thought I'd post the whole thing so far. The new section is at the bottom in Maroon. Enjoy! (and let me know what you think.


The Journeyman years.

The rangers of surefall have a very structured apprenticeship program. The first several years of life are spent learning the ways of the various woodland creatures and the forest. It is not uncommon to see tiny ranger and druid balls of dirt zipping through the forest floor, playing tag with the bears and the rabbits and squirrels. What looks like play to the untrained eye is all part of the program, letting the youngsters get acclimated and decide their role in life. Those with an affinity for magic are later placed in the druid track, the more martial ones get selected for ranger training. Every once in a while one of the children doesn't really fit the life style, or sometimes we get an outsider, so the glade doesn't become too isolated from the world.


At about the age of 6, the formal apprenticeship program begins. This consists of learning the spells and skills needed for glade life. . Things continue along this path until about the age of 12. At that time, a journeyman ranger is paired with a full ranger, to undertake a 1 year journey throughout the land of norrath. The rangers of the glade serve a variety of purposes, as messengers, trackers, resource collectors, and occasionally warriors in the various local bandit elimination efforts, and our battles with the undead minions that are currently laying siege to Kithocor. I like to think us rangers do our part.

My journeyman year started out much like any other ranger, at least on the surface. After classes were dismissed for the season, we all set about readying our equipment for the journey. They don't tell you where you are going, or who with until the last minute, because part of the test is your level of preparedness, so a large part of the month leading up to the journey is spent agonizing over how many tunics to bring, or whether one should take a winter cloak or extra rain gear. This is fueled of course by horror stories passed down from returning journeymen, like the druid that had to wear the same pair of socks for a year, or the ranger that forgot his bowstring.

It was about a week before the pairing ceremony, when we are assigned our ranger mentor for the journey, and I was busy myself trying to decide which quiver to bring, when my right arm began to itch. Puzzled, I removed my bracer. Underneath, the skin looked bruised and pale, as though someone had been beating on my arm with a hammer. I looked at my left arm. The exact same thing.

Now I was really puzzled. I couldn't recall banging my arms against anything, and they had looked fine this morning. The bracers were kind of new though, and I wasn't finished breaking them in, so I shrugged it off. I removed both the bracers, intending to take a look at them later, and wrapped a bandage with a cool compress around the itch. I then went back to packing for the trip

Another hour or so passed. The itching began to worsen, but I tried to keep my mind off it. Call it ranger machismo, or what you will, but I was determined to keep ahead of the game. I had my week planned and I wasn't about to let some little ailment derail them.

Then the burning started.
At this point, I was beginning to get a little worried. I removed the bandage and compress from my right arm, and to my horror saw little strips of skin peal off, with the surrounding skin a dark green. Panicking, I quickly began to cast a healing spell. The healing aura began to coalesce around my forearm. It started to take, then PAIN!!!!

Blackness...

I dream. The world passes below me, as if viewed from the tallest of mountains. Rivers, forests, all merged into a flowing pastel tapestry. I know I am dreaming, yet this dream feels more real than any I have had before. I can feel the wind. Smell the air. I look around. To the right, I can see a city. To the left, a large green wing.

My wing.

More blackness...

Slowly I come back to awareness. In the dim light of my sleep filled eyes, I recognize my surroundings. I am in the medical hut inside the druid guildhall. This is not a good sign.

Slowly, I sit up. My arms are bandaged again, as are my shoulders and shins. Definitely not a good sign. Before I can examine the matter further, the door opens, and in walks Guildmaster Trueshot and the chief druid healer Adept Trynna. They were smiling.

"Ah, I see our young patient has decided to join the land of the living once again!" Boomed Guildmaster Trueshot, in that quiet, yet authoritative voice that all Guildmasters seem to posses. "you gave us all quite a scare there. We weren't sure Adept Trynna would be able to put you back together again"

Adept Trynna scoffed. "I keep telling you, I didn't do nuthin. One minute, disaster, then enxt minute, he's healed, but out like sleeping beauty. 2 whole weeks! I've never seen anything like it!"

2 weeks! My heart lurched into my stomach. That... That meant...

I guess my face must have revealed my fear, because Guildmaster Trueshot quickly spoke. "Now don't you worry about your Journey. It's all been taken care of, just as soon as they release you from prison here!"

Adept Trynna glowered at him for a moment, then smiled. She turned back to me. "Alright. Lets get those bandages off and see the damage." She said as she began removing the ones on my arms.

None of us were prepared for what we saw.

Where before my fairly normal arm skin had been, now I had a large forest green band. It seemed to be made of a tad thicker material than the surrounding skin, but was warm to the touch and seamlessly melded into the rest of my arm. We soon discovered I had similar skin patches on my shins and shoulders. It seemed as if they had a shimmery, almost metallic cast to them. It reminded me of the color of the wing from my dream.

Guildmaster Trueshot was the first to speak. "Truly, a gift from your father" he said in a low voice. At the time, I was puzzled by his comment, not knowing then what I know now about my parental history.

Adept Trynna was fascinated by them. She spoke in a kind of far off voice while examining my left arm. "I... see. I think. Your arms were changing, that was the itching you mentioned in your sleep. There must be magic involved somehow, and your healing spell interfered with it and sent you into shock... There's no spell residue though. Fascinating!"

For some reason she felt the need to keep pokeing my arm with some medical stick thingy. I could still feel it through the changed skin, and really, couldn't tell the difference. But it was getting a tad bit old. I was about to say something when Guildmaster Trueshot spoke up. "Trynna, leave the boy alone and go pester the bears or something. They were looking bored last time I saw them." Then he addressed me. "Go get changed and grab your gear, then meet me out front near the hills. There's been a report of poachers in the area, and I could use some company whilst dispatching them."

Eager to see the poachers get theirs, I quickly complied. Along the way to my quarters, I kept turning the events of the last 2 weeks over in my mind. Why would the guildmaster take me along on a simple poacher expedition?

My quarters were pretty much as I had left them, except my journeypack was now neatly arranged off to one side. The rest of the room was neat and orderly to a certain extent, my weapons racked on their hangers, Spell books and components arrayed on the shelf.

I looked with some chagrin at the mess on my desk. I had attempted to disassemble an old gnomish vanishing device that I had found during a shopping trip to Qeynos. It had not survived my attempts, and was now randomly emitting invisibility waves in short random bursts from the various remaining parts.

3000 years later I still haven't got that thing to work right

Anyways, I pushed all that from my mind, strapped on my baldric, and raced out the door.

I caught up with Guildmaster Trueshot about halfway to the gnoll caves. He was busy one-shotting gnolls with a truly massive bow. I decided to join in. We worked our way towards the Karanas Pass, leaving a trail of destruction and toothless gnolls behind us. When we came to the ruins of the old guard tower, we decided to teak a break and eat some lunch. Guildmaster trueshot gestured to the ruins around us. "This tower used to be the first in a long chain of signal towers running all the way back to Freetown (as Freeport was known in those days). Most of them were destroyed during the sundering, but the ones on the western half of Antonica survived relatively intact for many years. No more though I fear. The Combine tribes are one the move again, and there are rumors of a blight to the east." He paused. "Your father told me to watch for the gathering storm on the day he left. I fear now that I am beginning to understand what he meant."

He tossed me a package. "Here. He wanted you to have this when you were older. He said I would know when the time is right."

I unwrapped it.

Inside, I found a note, a large green tunic, and a heavy silver/platinum medallion with an engraving of a dragon on the front.

The note read:

Kaolian, my son.

I write this letter with a heavy hand, for I know that when you read it many years will have passed. Years that I will have missed, and cannot get back. I expect my departure has made life in the glade more difficult for you than your other peers, and I imagine that you probably harbor some resentment towards me. This I accept as the price of the course of action I chose, but please understand it was necessary.

Had I stayed with you, you would now be dead.

I know you have questions. Questions I cannot answer in this letter, for I do not know who may see it before you do. This I can tell you: we will meet in the future. When you complete your journey, travel East to the lands beyond the veil. I will find you.

Fare well in your Journey,
V.

p.s. The medallion enclosed will grant you safe passage in some areas, and mark you for death in others. Be very sure of your company before you reveal it.

I set the note aside and picked up the tunic. Guildmaster Trueshot looked at the material as I tried it on over my mail. "Dragonscale I reckon. Though I don't know how they could have worked it"

The material was a perfect match with the new additions to my arms.

Next, I took up the medallion. It was not large, perhaps no bigger than a Freeport mint platinum piece. Around the edge, in some strange, jagged language was written "A Trevia mal Drakon ne' la Hei Nadrox" - The dragons path through darkness shall be true.

The center of the medallion was a simple, yet intricately carved symbol of a dragon encircling a mountain. Inset into each eye socket was a shard of a blue gem and a red gem. Even to my newly trained magic senses, I could feel a deep sense of power within, yet all traces disappeared the moment it was hidden from view.

I slipped it onto a leather cord and placed it around my neck inside my tunic. The letter I put into my backpack.

Seeing that I was finished, Guildmaster Trushot continued. "Now about your Journey. Before you got sick, you had finished most of your packing, and when we took a look you were on the right track. You probably would have been a bit wet in the spring months for a while, but nothing you couldn't easily remedy. Since you were laid up, I took the liberty of finishing your packing for you."

Well, that was one worry off of my mind... He continued.

"After that, it was simply a matter of finding you a Journey partner. Luckily for you, Pathfinder Jankeck has agreed to let you accompany her to Fededwar."

My gut froze. Pathfinder Jankeck. She had a near legendary reputation. The same type of reputation one uses to scare rambunctious ranger children into obedience. To this day people still talk about the poor ranger unfortunate enough to drop her favorite bow on the trail. I don't think they ever found all the pieces of him...

Guildmaster Trueshot must have seen the look of horror creep over my face, for he stearnly rebuked me "Now don't go giving me that. Sure, she can be a bit on the grumpy side sometimes, but she's alright once you get to know her. Besides, she knows more about tracking than most of the warders here anyways, so if you pay attention you should do well." He chuckled. "Just don't get on her bad side... that can be painful. She'll be here first thing tomorrow, so you have some time tonight to get ready." And with that, we headed back towards the glade, skewering the odd gnoll on the way.

Later that evening, I sat down to my last meal for a while inside the guild messhall. The cook, as usual had prepared a feast. I think he over did it a bit due to all the rangers out on journey. Everything was wonderful though. A nice, flaky fish pie, with a side of broiled tubers and a Berry Compote for desert. Yum! In 3,000 years I haven't found anyone who could cook a berry Compote like chef. As I was leaving, I complemented him on the meal. He smiled, then handed me a small package. By the pungent aromas coming off it I could tell it was spices.

"Jankeck likes a bit of cinnamon in her morning cocoa." he told me with a nod. I thanked him, and slipped the package into my journey pack once I was back in my room. Tomorrow, the Journey would truly begin...

That night, my sleep was restless. I remember dreaming of traveling to far off lands, which oddly enough all seemed to look like surefall, except the residents there all spoke with outrageous accents. You know, that fake dwarven accent you used as a kid to amuse your friends? Yeah, that one. No dragons though this time.

I awoke early in the morning, a summoned lightstone slowly blinking in and out of existence above my eyes. With a stretch and a yawn, I hit the cutoff switch on the intricate wooden alarm totem and the lightstone blinked out. After a quick shower and some breakfast, I strapped on my armor, grabbed my pack, and headed to the courtyard in front of the mess hall. There, waiting for me, was Pathfinder Jankeck. Up close, she looked shorter than I had remembered, at least a full foot below my own height. Tough and wiry, Jankeck had the look of someone not to be crossed. She was dressed in traveling leathers with a few pieces of armor plate. At her side, she wore a largeish 2 handed long sword with a polished mithril hilt and a large amber stone set lengthwise, just catching the first light of the morning sun.

She looked up at me as I approached. "punctual. Good. I like that" she smiled a cold, feral smile. "now lets see if you are going to slow me down!" and with that, she took off like a startled hare.

Lucky for myself, I had the presence of mind to fix my tracking senses on her before she got completely out of range. Swiftly, I followed. I could tell from her trail that she was moving at a high rate of speed.

"darn, she must know I can't summon a wolf spirit yet! This doesn't make sense" I grumbled with a curse. We continued on at this pace for the better half of the morning. Gradually, I became aware that she wasn't actually trying to lose me. Every so often her footprints would deepen for a few steps, as if she were waiting for me to catch up. Then it dawned on me that this was a test. She knew I couldn't keep up with her, but she wanted to see what I would do about it. I had heard from other journeymen that some ranger mentors like to do that to get a feel for the one they are mentoring.

I resolved not to fail the test, and quickened my pace.

More time passed. Lunch was a chunk of waybread and cheese on the run. I bagged a few passing woodland creatures during the run. Dinner would be much better fare, I assured myself. As the sun moved further across the sky, Pathfinder Jankeck began altering her path, changing course in seemingly random directions, doubling back around me in circles. At one point, I think if I had turned around quickly enough, I would have caught a glimpse of her.
We continued our game of cat and mouse for perhaps another hour. By this time, my legs were on fire, and my back, unused to the relatively heavy weight of the pack felt as if some gnomish experiment gone horribly wrong was beating a xylophone beat on my spine. That is when she finally took pity on me. I almost tripped over her in surprise as I burst into a small clearing. A cool stream trickled nearby to the left. I looked at it longingly.

"Welcome back!" Jankeck chuckled. "I was beginning to think you had gotten lost back there" she finished with that same feral grin.

I tossed a brace of rabbits beside her by way of reply. "I stopped to grab us some dinner along the way. I didn't think you would mind" I finished, with a grin of my own.

Her eyes widened slightly with appraisal. She nodded "well well, Guildmaster trueshot said you would give me a good run. I can see he was right... Today. We'll see how well you hold up tomorrow."

I set about to starting dinner. Luckily, there was plenty of stones around for a fire pit, and a recent storm had left the area littered with deadfall. I soon had a small pit dug out in the sandy soil. I then lined the edge with alternating stones, and placed two sturdy forked branches upright at the edge. I covered the base of these branches with mud and a few stones so that they would not burn through, then dressed and spitted the two rabbits. A small clump of wild garlic, and other assorted herbs, and a bit of salt finished the seasoning. With that done, I turned my attention back to the fire pit. I stacked smaller pieces of wood leaning against a larger log, my goal being both cooking coals and warmth for the night. A quick fire spell, and 30 minutes later, we were ready to eat. I saw Pathfinder Jankeck take a cautious bite of her meal, but soon she was diving right in.

"Whatever else I may say about you, kid, you sure can cook!" she said, with a real, unfeigned grin.

The rest of that first night was fairly uneventful. I think we were both a tad bit tired from the long run to have much energy to talk.

The next morning, I took the Cook's advice, and dropped a pinch of cinnamon in the pot of morning cocoa. Pathfinder Jankeck was particularly grumpy that morning for some reason, so it is probably good that I did. She didn't say anything that morning, but as we were leaving, she did summon a wolf spirit to ease my traveling.

Our mission was to deliver medical supplies to various villages around norrath. To this end, we set off from Surefall to make the long run to the northern desert of Karana. (you must remember, that at this time, the druid ring in surefall had failed, and would not be restored for several thousand years. Also, the climate of norrath was still recovering from the last great mage wars) where we were scheduled to meet a Druid, who would take us to Fededwyr.

It took us several weeks to make our way across the western Karana desert. At that time, the wilds were full of bandits and brigands, as well as the assorted monster, so I got in plenty of practice. Pathfinder Jankeck and I also occasionally sparred. She inevitably won, but she would always teach me new tricks, and so my swordsmanship rapidly improved.

Our journey continued, until one day, we finally arrived in the northern desert of Karana. We followed the dry river bed under the ruins of the great stone bridge of Ab-nor. And made our way towards the druid circle. Along the way, we kept running into baby griffons and griffon eggs. "Someday these are going to be a real problem for everyone" muttered Jankeck under her breath. I couldn't help but agree.

Once we arrived at the druid portal, Pathfinder Jankeck sent a psychic tell to our druid friend.

We waited... and waited... and waited...

No druid. Jankeck tried again. A look of consternation crossing her face.




She started to speak. "Something is terribly, terribly wrong..." when suddenly the very air around the druid circle started to warp and shimmer, like the heated air over a morning fire. The effect spread to a larger area, engulfing the pillars completely, then swirling upwards now tinged with green flame. The effect looked something akin to a tornado of energy.

The runes on the columns began to glow, flickering with the effort of trying to focus the tremendous energy. A few of the columns even visibly shifted out of alignment as the energy vortex continued to grow in size. Then, with a clap of thunder, the sky split asunder, revealing a giant orc-like creature. The displaced air from the abrupt teleportation of the huge creature knocked me flat on my back. Momentarily dazed, I looked on with horror at the hideous blue green visage before me. The giant turned it's beady red eyes on me. Dimly, as if from a great distance I could hear Jankeck screaming something at me. This snapped me out of my haze. I moved

Seconds later, a huge club left a 10 foot gash where my body had been.

"MOVE you snot brained pile of badger *****! We can't take this by ourselves!!!" Jankeck screamed at me. She pointed to the river to the south. "Run for it! I'll try to slow it down." She finished as she tossed a fresh wolf spirit my direction.

I ran. I could hear the sounds of the battle behind me, but every time I slowed to get a better look, Jankeck would start screaming at me. She was keeping out of range, sending arrow after arrow into the slimy blue beast. A tangle of thorny vines appeared to be slowing it down somewhat, but it was still gaining on us.

We reached the river. Neither of us was equipped for a swim, but it began to look as if we would have no choice. Suddenly, with a roar the creature turned and began clawing at the air behind it. Then, in silent contrast to its entrance, it disappeared in a flash of nothingness.

We both sat staring at the ground before us that had so recently held promise of our imminent demise. For a while neither of us spoke.

Finally, I came up with some words that sounded something close to being elvish. "What the hell was that?"

"I have no clue" replied Jankeck, a troubled look on her face. "Hold on. Let me try make contact with Faraine the Druid again."

Faraine? You there?
Yes! Where the hell are you? We've been trying to reach you for hours!!! Someone attacked the glade, and we're getting reports of some strange creature wandering around. A full 30 of our Journeyman pairs are completely out of contact and have been for hours. We know at least 4 of them are dead. Something is up Sarah, and I don't like it one bit...You will like this even less. Let me tell you about what just happened to us...

* * *

A room. A large room decorated by gilt framed paintings and elaborate tapestry. In the center, a candle-lit dining table set with an opulent feast for three. A fourth place stands empty at the foot of the table. At the head of the table, a large cloaked and hooded figure. Red trim and intricate black runes decorate the outer edges of the cloak. From the hands of the figure clasped together in concentration on the table, we can infer that the figure is not a large man, despite his apparent size. To his right, is seated one of the Tier'dal. She is dark pale blue in coloring, devastatingly attractive in a cruel, yet malicious manner. A visage men would be willing to kill just to look upon, and have. Her heartshaped face framed by pale silver hair sets off the silver emblem of the Nightstalker brotherhood prominently displayed on her black leather tunic. Opposite her, a large ogre with a huge scar running diagonally from above the right eye, down through where his nose should be and ending near the left corner of his mouth sits patiently sipping at a pear and lobster broth from an engraved golden spoon. He has the look of a warrior about him, yet there is something cold, a bit too methodical, in the precision with which he considers the meal that would make the unwary break out in goosebumps for no reason.

A scrawny and pale elf enters the room. His features are bedraggled and worn as if by age, and a look grim as death is fixed upon his face. He does not look happy to be here.

The robed figure gestures to the empty seat. The elf sits. An awkward silence drags on for an eternity.

The elf speaks, half choking. "My lord, there is a ... setback. Our translocation of the Kharvuto failed"

For the briefest moment a flash of silver could be seen under the hood of the cloaked figure, about where eyes would be. The elf in the far chair falls lifeless onto the table.

The dark elf assassin chuckled, a throaty evil laugh. "My dear, you must learn to control your temper. He hadn't even brought us desert yet, and now we'll have to break in another slave. And you do know how messy that can be."

The ogre continued to eat, picking the meat from a shank of mutton.

The hooded figure made no immediate reply. His large meal untouched save for a heavy cup filled with a strange pale green liquid. Eventually, he spoke. A voice cracked and aged as death itself. "He has placed himself in opposition to me and protected the one which we must eliminate." The Dark elf looked puzzled for a second and glanced at the dead elf. The robed figure continued. "You know of whom I speak. The emerald drake. This cannot be tolerated. Maybe it is for the best, for now we know exactly who we seek. The game is just beginning."




** *

"By Tunare Jankeck, a giant orc that can port?" asked Faraine the druid, a hint of panic adding a tone of panic to her now manifest voice. The woodelf druid sat a short distance the druid ring that had almost seen our end, preparing for the port back to Fededwyr.
"That's not the half of it. It must be able to track too, if it could find the journeyman teams." Continued Jankeck. How the hell could this happen?

The full scope of the disaster was only now becoming fully apparent. 52 rangers and ranger trainees dead or missing on journeys. A further three dozen dead at various ranger outposts throughout Antonica. And worst of all, they hit Surefall. A strange creature, much like the one that attacked myself and Jankeck suddenly materialized near the apprentice quarters. It set about dismantling the outbuildings, and was making its way towards the central guildhall when a lucky shot downed the beast. It then vanished as mysteriously as it arrived. My own quarters seemed to be one of the main targets of the attack. I glanced down at the silverfish medallion concealed inside my tunic. Was there something more to these attacks than was apparent? Did I have some unknown, unseen enemy? I shivered involuntarily. In each of the attacks, a large impossible creature mysteriously appeared out of nothingness to wreak havoc. Judging by the eyewitness accounts, and tracks from the sites of the fallen, there were at least 10 of the creatures involved in the attacks. This was truly ill news.

I spoke up, hesitant. "Could, ... could they be after us?"
Jankeck stood, locked in thought for a second. "Maybe. But I don't see why?"

I started to tell her about the events surrounding my recent ordeal, but at that moment Faraine stood up, and announced "away we go!"

***
We arrived in the Butcherblock mouuntians with a crackleing of energy, and a hard "bump". In those days, you must remember, the teleport books did not yet exist, and the norrath spires themselves were still being built. Druid ring travel was the only way to travel. So we were in for a bit of a walk.

We decided to keep off the main trails, just in case anyone or anything was keeping watch. I got quite a bit of practice with my Camo techniques.

We made one stop along the way to Kelethen. The dwarves had just recently established an outpost at the foot of the Kalad mountain. They were just in the process of sinking the main shafts. Most of the decorative work we see today outside present day Kalidim was still in the imagination of the dwarvish engineers.

As we came in sight of the tunnel entrance, a big burly dwarf ambled towards us. He had rust red hair, and was dressed in your typical dwarven foreman's uniform (which of course consists of tanned leather breeches, an off-white tunic, and a large metal safety hat with attached survey sighting post/horns spaced exactly 175 degrees apart). He gestured at Jankeck

"Burrr, here be yon Elvish wench come to try and turn yon cave into rabbit hole again!" said the unknown dwarf with a hearty laugh.
"Well at least the rabbits have enough sense to come outside and enjoy the forest once in a while ja wee little hole digger! Now what's a girl got to do to get a drink around here!" Jankeck replied in the same lilting accent.
There was an indignant sputter from the still laughing dwarf. "Hole digger? Trust a pointy ear to call the greatest dwarvish creation in the history of norrath a "hole" And now she wants a free ale? What is the world coming too?
"A brandy actually. And none of that cheap stuff you gave me last time. It took me a week to get it out of my system"
The dwarf nearly fell over laughing. "Ah, Jankeck, Jankeck me lass, tis' good to see you! and ta be quite honest, I dinna mean to inflict that horsewater on you last time. Old Timpur Irontoe got it into his head that he can brew, and switched me stock out so I could 'try it out', only the bloody fool dinna tell me first. Och! But enough about that, introduce an old dwarf to yer friends!

And so we made the introduction rounds. I soon learned that the big dwarf was named Shorsten Mccyre, and was one of the rarely seen highland dwarves. Shorsten it seems did not find the cold of the north to his liking, so he moved to the warmer climes in the southeast of the world. He and Jankeck were old friends, having met years before over some business involving a gnoll invasion of the old Dwarvish keep Throkenhame, near the site of modern day southern Karanas. That however is a story for another day...

We decided to stay the night in the Kalad encampment. There were several dwarven families in the encampment with little ones that could do with their yearly checkups. We joined Shorsten at his table during the evening feast. Let one thing be said about dwarves. They know how to throw a damn good party. Truffle pies, Basilisk steak surprise, and every kind of ale imaginable. I found that I was partial to a hearty stout ale brewed from hops and the pith of the Firionberry. We laughed, sang bawdy dwarven feast songs, and talked late into the night.

One by one, the dwarven workers bid us goodnight. Soon, it was just Jankeck, Faraine, Shorsten and myself sitting around the fire. I reached for my nearby ale, and the medallion under my tunic slipped out into the firelight. Immediately, I saw Shorsten'e eyes lock onto it, then widen in shock.

"by the brewer, it kanna be! Lad, bring that here, let me see it. Where did you get this?" eagerly asked Shorsten.

"It was left to me by my father." I answered a bit hesitantly. I trusted Jankeck's judgment in friends by now, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for this. But it was really too late now, so I slipped the medallion back over my head and handed it to the dwarf. He took it with reverence, as if holding a sacred relic. For all I knew, maybe he was.

"In all the years of dwarvenkind, only once have we came across this metal. It was back in the days of Thomskold the brave. He led a party of explorers deep into a cave rumored to be the abandoned lair of a dragon killed in a far off war to the south, on one of the rumored lost continents. Inside, he did find treasure unimaginable, and signs that a great being once dwelled within. But one item drew his attention above all else. It was a curved flat piece of this very same metal. Legend has it that Thomskold took that piece of metal as his share of the treasure. What happened to the rest I know naught. I do know that the very best dwarven metalsmiths worked years to try and shape it in some way. They discovered that the material could store magic, much as mithril or other materials, but in much greater strengths and quantities than anything else known to dwarvenkind. Yet still nothing could even scratch the surface. Finally, the piece was left as is, and worked into the Thane's crown. To this day, the metal is referred to as Thanesgeld, and only a few people are even aware it exists. But to see a worked piece, it brings a flutter to my heart. Do you have any idea how it was made, how your father came to be in possession of it? What are these markings on the surface?

Jankeck was looking at me strangely, speculation readily apparent on her face.

"The markings are in a language I have never seen before, yet I can read." I shrugged. "It reads: 'The dragons path through darkness shall be true'. I don't know how I can read it, it just makes sense. I know there is magic in it but what it does, well, that too is a mystery."

Shorsten rocked back in his seat. "Well I'll be. Worked by the dragons themselves I ken." He looked thoughtful again. "There is a longstanding offer from the line of Thanes, that should anyone find even a piece of Thanesgeld, they would be offered a princedom just for letting the metallurgists of the realm study it. I know the offer was intended for Dwarves, but to study a piece such as this..." he let the thought trail off, lost in thought.

"I, I don't know... Being a ranger is all I know, and my father seems to think it important that I have this. Would it be alright if I let you know after my journey year is up?" I asked. Something told me I shouldn't part with it just yet, as if it might have a role yet to play later on.

For the second time that day, I saw the dwarf rock back with laughter. "By the shaper, ye offer the lad a kingdom and he asks to finish workin fer his supper first! Ye picked a right daft one ye did Jankeck! But I like his style!"

Jankeck's look of speculation intensified, then she nodded, as if deciding something for herself. "Aye... Perhaps I did at that, but he makes a damn fine cup of Cocoa. I'll make sure we head back this way when the year is up. I wouldn't miss the answer he gives you for the world!"

Shorsten recovered, then continued to stare at the medallion for a few minutes more, before reluctantly handing it back to me. I slipped the leather thong once more over my neck, then tucked it back into my tunic. He looked at the spot where the medallion lay tucked away, then spoke gravely. "Lad, that IS treasure. Most of us never even live to see the likes of it. Be careful.

And with that, we went to our respective campsites. Soon, I was fast asleep dreaming the night away with dreams of flight once more.

***

Good!

Did you see that Salvadore has been contracted by SOE to write some stories based on the world of EQ? Perhaps they have picked the wrong guy

More tomorrow I think. Is anyone besides Iluien even reading this?

heck yeah i'm reading this. dude, you rock!

Thats my bedtime reading ... don't stop now.. grrrrrrrrrrrr

Very well written, keep up the good work

Usually I HATE stories written from the 1st-person perspective.....but this one I DO enjoy :)

Hope you sell the television rights one day, I would appreciate a good Fantasy-Series on TV....

/bow

Very good. More please. =)

Man I gotta give props on that one. You're perdy good! keep 'em coming. Maybe you could submit them to Allakhazam and they might have a link to them on the homepage or something, just a thought. Good job again, and good luck, man.

maybe this will make up for it. had a bit of writers block.

I spent the next hour or so teaching myself how to fly. The trick with flying is to keep your concentration focused on where you want to go. If you stop, you begin to fall. Falling = bad. I started off at the lower platforms, practicing drifting and direction. After a while I moved up to the higher platforms. Some of the woodelf children decided to join my flying lesson. A few of them had crafted large air paddles out of some hide and wood scraps. I was amazed at their aerobatics, and I got one of them to show me how they were built in return for another look at the seed. Soon I had a pair of my own. With the addition of the wing paddles, and a slight boost to the levitation spell I found that I could actually fly upwards for short distances. I got quite a workout that afternoon, but soon enough it was time for the grand tree planting event.

A small depression near the main village had been chosen for the site of the planting. A delegation of high elf wizards from nearby felwithe had surveyed the area earlier, and found that a large flux of magical energy passed very near the surface there. They believed that the sylvenwood seedling should be able to easily tap it in a few years. A conical 6 foot pit was dug into the topsoil. At the bottom, a thin bed of crushed stone gravel was layered, for drainage. Over that, a layer of mulch and fertilizer, then a bed of soil.

I stood off to the side with Jankeck and the other rangers. The evening air was cool and slightly overcast. A moderate breeze was blowing amongst they sylvenwood tops. The gentle creaks and groans as they shifted in the breeze clashed with the growing murmer of the gathering crowd. I looked toward the mayor. He just shook his head. “Not yet laddie, we’ve got guests on the way”. He pointed.

Off in the distance, three large shapes moved slowly towards us as they approached, astonished gasps began to run throughout the gathered crowd. “treeants? Here? Now?” the already excited crowd noise rose in anticipation. Two of the ents were large oakish ents. The third in the middle was a tall, willowy ash, bearing a large reddish object. They came to a stop near the open pit.

The willow-ent spoke. A soft and low rumble from deep within. “Since before time began, the ents have tended the forests of this world. We are the tree shepherds. The keepers of the glade. Such is our task. In life, and in death.” The entraised the bundle it carried. The wrappings fell away to reveal a large reddish jewel. “I bear the heartstone of a fallen ent. My mate, Shining-Leaf. He fell to an Orc raiding party this last moon.” She paused. A slight rustle of leaves as her emotions came to the surface. “we believe the spirit of protection we feel in life, remains after… As is our custom, we ask that this stone be allowed to join the planting”. She knelt, and extended the stone in the direction of the mayor.

He nodded “Of course. We welcome the blessing of one of Tunare’s own. Please” he gestured towards the planting site.

She bowed her head in thanks, then gently placed the shining red stone near the center of the bed. As she stood up, she turned towards me, and cocked her head to the side, as if considering me. A few drops of sap could be seen running from the corner of her large amber eyes. Suddenly, with a curt nod, as if she had made up her mind about something, she stepped back towards the edge of the crowd.

Jankeck whispered. “Kaolian, it’s time”

I walked towards the edge of the hole, the silver grey seed seeming to grow warmer with every step. The eyes of the gathered villagers watching me, waiting to see what would happen next. The treeants began an eerie low hum, lending to the air of anticipation of the moment.

As I approached, I had a sudden thought. I wished that I had something to leave to protect the seedling as well. My free hand moved to the amulet under my tunic of it’s own accord. Suddenly, A glyph shaped object I had never seen before formed on the surface, then separated, the chunk of cool grey metal falling into my hand. I studies it in wonder for a second, my steps faltering, but I quickly recovered and reached the edge.

I knelt down, and placed the seed with its rounded edge down next to the heartstone. Up close, the stone looked like a large ovid shape, with holes and channels around the edge. It wasn’t much bigger than the seed itself, and I could sense a presence of some sort emanating from within. I placed the small glyph in the space between the stone and the seed, then covered the seed with some handfuls of dirt. Soon, everyone gathered around to help.

It was time for the final step in the process.

There is a spell. It is perhaps the oldest spell in Norrath, and has but one purpose, to make things grow. In some cultures it is a harvest chant. In others, a prayer of sorts. Amongst the elfkind, it has the strength and effect of a true spell, though anyone, from he mightiest wizard to the magic-less warrior can cast it with equal effect. Every member of the crowd had a copy, and they spoke the ancient elvish words in unison.

Khrista, na’Lentta, alesta! Al’Tnorok na’leath!

The effect was immediate. The ground shook for a moment, then to the cheers of the crowd, and the astonished gasps of the Wizards, the sapling burst forth from the ground. It reached a height of 14 feet in a matted of seconds. The happy crowd applauded the newest member of the forest, and gathered around to take a closer look. As trees go, it wasn’t much different than any other tree at this stage, despite it’s near miraculous growth. The bark was much redder than the grown sylvenwoods. I’m told that the color changes over time. There were only a few branches, the growth of a young sapling writ large. The leaves were the normal greysih green treifoil clusters, though much smaller than they would become as the tree grew.

The crowd gradually began to move off towards the nearby feast tables, set out for the occasion. I felt the need to linger for a minute more. The Willowy ent walked up beside me.

In a whisper, for an ent at least, she spoke. “A magnificent specimen, is it not, drakeling? The gift of a piece of worked drakkenshell is a rare one indeed. I wouldn’t be surprised if this tree grows to be the tallest in norrath someday. Shining-Leaf would be proud.” She turned to me, registering the confused expression on my face. “Oh, you do not know your heritage yet? Much becomes clear now. You will discover it in time. Remember your dreams.” And with that, she joined her escort, and stepped off into the mist. I never saw her again.

After the feasting and partying, we retired back to the guildhall. I took a moment to copy the strange glyph from earlier down in my sketch book. I showed it to Jankeck. “have you ever seen this symbol before?” I asked. She took the sketchpad from me and studied it for a second. She motioned for the sketch stick. “hmmm, I’ve seen something similar, once, in an old ruin near Kithocor. It looked about like… this, but it had a line through the middle, and a little squiggle at the bottom. The locals said it meant good luck or something. I dunno.” She handed the pad back to me. “busy day, get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ve got work to do!”

The next several weeks we spent in the area, running errands, delivering supplies, mediating over local disputes. Along the way, Jankeck refined my tracking and martial skills to new heights. I learned some new skills from the local craftsmen, studied in nearby Felwith, and took in the sights and sounds.

Editors note: the events detailed in the archive “the stony mask” occur during this time period. If you have not read it already, you might want to.

All too soon, it was time to move on. One morning, Jankeck…

To Be continued…