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[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign
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<blockquote data-quote="Alexander Bryant" data-source="post: 7229199" data-attributes="member: 6884000"><p><strong>Journal of Etona - Entry Nine</strong></p><p></p><p>I supposed it was time to remove three more thick-headed warriors from the world. It will be good riddance, but honestly why is it always Battle to the Death? This is Rey’s trial, so I will once again fight as bidden, perhaps die today as tacitly bidden, here in this wet oven, surrounded by alien beings, enmeshed in their politics because I am enmeshed in a town of humans because I loved two women of the Fey. I am swept along. How many of these choices, I wonder, have been mine?</p><p></p><p>There was much talk in Draconic between Rey, the arrogant black-scaled king on his throne and his two guardians. I honestly do not remember any of their names, full of Ss and Hs and Ks: Shaka and Hashish and Kiss . . . kiss?</p><p></p><p>We were to engage the two guardians first. Somehow Rey convinced these three that separating their party and attacking our greater numbers was a good idea. So Hashish, which means The One With The Club, and Kisskiss “I have sharp claws, mrow!” advanced on us. Hashish’s comically huge and jagged weapon healed him with every blow he landed. Kisskiss wore poison. They were tough and troublesome but terribly outmatched. They both died in short order because of course we have Rey. And now fierce cousin Verdre! And our fire wizard and a screaming, red-haired killing machine. What did they think was going to happen?</p><p></p><p>The black-scaled tyrant of the band attacked us next after he and Rey traded what I presume were insults. He had an ornate black spear that, once thrown, would reappear in his hand. He wore bracers that glowed faintly as they turned aside attack after attack, and the few that made it through struck feebly at a tough scaled hide. We were wearing him down, but he was doing the same to Mel and Rey. </p><p></p><p>And then Verdre was stunned by one of his blows. He saw her throat and reared back to take her life . . .</p><p></p><p>I had to be calm. I and She both knew what the next moment brought if <em>me’ara amo</em> died right here fighting only because I am.</p><p></p><p>It could not be a normal arrow – that would just bounce off. And I could not get there in time with a dagger.</p><p></p><p>I narrowed my eyes. Reached out my will. Called to Angivre. She flared, and I drew back with nothing – no arrow but only faith, as I had before I betrayed Her – and I felt an unfamiliar coldness on my fingertips. The Silver cord stretched. Recoiled . . . </p><p></p><p> . . . and a gray shard steamed through the air piercing the throat of the dragonkin. He went rigid, tried to bring his claw up to the already-fading bolt which had left behind small white crystals, and fell. He was stone dead.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>I ran to Verdre and threw my arms around her. She looked a little surprised and murmured “Yes, OK. It is done.” My aunt is tough – she travels alone for most of her life and doesn’t shy from danger – but I don’t think she knew what peril she had been in during that spray of heartbeats.</p><p></p><p>The Silver had been gray, not white. The image turned over again and again in my mind. I believe it had been cold instead of . . . well, I do not know that part: I have never fired on anyone who was able to tell me the sensation. But if so, the steam had been its frozen passage through hot, moist air, perhaps the first icy thing this land had ever known.</p><p></p><p>While the rest of the party recovered and Rey spoke to Hishka, I picked out an uncrowded spot and drew back the Silver again. It came once more. And again. And again.</p><p></p><p><em>My humble thanks, My Mistress of Mercy.</em> She had been angry with me, deservedly so, and I had borne her wrath without despair. Well, without very much despair. But she knows my heart: however much I give it to others from whatever foolish notion that occurs to me, I will always be Her Etona.</p><p></p><p>I was crying when Verdre knelt down in front of me.</p><p></p><p>“Etona?” Her hawk-like features expressed puzzlement. Few, I expect, get to see that expression when facing my aunt.</p><p></p><p>“I am happy,” I smiled for it was so.</p><p></p><p>Verdre shook her head with wonder. “May you never grow up, little Lun, mine,” and she kissed me on the forehead.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>We recovered, bound our wounds, healed.</p><p></p><p>The lizard folk wanted us to have the usurpers’ weapons. Sussek’s, Sauce’s, Sleestak’s (I really cannot hold these names in my head) ornate ebony spear was already in Rey’s hands. She balanced it, testing it, admiring its lines. She hurled it and was so taken aback when it reappeared in her outstretched hand that she nearly dropped it. She practiced several more throws and quickly came to understand when to reach for its returning form. Her grin was dazzling: I have never seen her so pleased.</p><p></p><p>Rey is queen of this folk now. Apparently those are the rules.</p><p></p><p>“You will be a wise ruler, m’lady,” I said with a sly smile. “You will come to love their food; the pleasant, warm nights; and you can merrily play with their children whenever you want!” I was laughing as she chased me off.</p><p></p><p>Verdre took up the jest: “Queen Huntress, have you cast your eye across your people’s many eligible males? You must have an heir: it is the first order of a royal!” Rey made a rude gesture Verdre, but we were all grinning.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>During the battle, I had dived into a stream that led through the roots to a gap underneath the ground. After Rey had consulted with the shaman, she explained to us that we needed to go into the Clutch, and that this small river would take us there. Since we were to be underwater for some time, Hiska told us we were to receive temporary gills. The situation demanded it: the eggs were still accessible to an increasingly untrustworthy black dragon whose intentions we did not know – we had never known – so we had to go down there into a black, enclosed tube of water using a magical deformation from an alien shaman to keep us alive. I offered it up to My Lady of Obstacles.</p><p></p><p>Verdre refused: she would use the old magic to change herself.</p><p></p><p>“I will be with you, <em>inro</em>, neh?” she said to me, sensing my worry. I nodded. In front of everyone she became a crocodile to the wonder of the tribe. Egan was fascinated as well. I needed to remind myself to help him talk to Verdre: his curiosity was killing him.</p><p></p><p>The spell was cast. My neck convulsed and slits opened up in my skin. I felt dizzy and unsure how to breathe, as if I had had to think about breathing all my life but this morning simply forgot.</p><p></p><p>Rey took my hand – for her, practically the tender embrace of a lover – and said, “Hiska says it will be better under the water. Come, I will be nearby.” I read distress in her eyes as well but she was, with an effort, exuding calm. That I am surrounded by such people lends me strength.</p><p></p><p>Verdre led, I followed, Rey and Egan and Mel behind me somewhere. There was some reason why no one among the tribe could go in, something to do with appearing to remain loyal to the dragon, that all of these events should seem to be out of their hands and we were just invaders doing what we willed.</p><p></p><p>Croco-aunt (I had many such names of this sort) had emerged far ahead of me into a cave of hundreds of oblong eggs overseen by an enormous black egg twice my height. By the time I was out of the water, she was dragging a still jerking little reptile man that I recognized as a kobold back behind some rocks. His fellows were sounding the alarm and assembling to fight the deadly interloper. I downed one with a pair of sizzling cold arrows – should I call them <em>arclun</em> since they seemed to be different from her usual radiant <em>arquae</em>? – from Angivre.</p><p></p><p>Egan, Rey and Mel joined the fight. We advanced into the cavern, very careful around the eggs, to meet four more of little dracos, two of whom were advancing with intent on the black egg. Did they mean to break it? I could scarce see a fledgling dragon being much of a threat to us, nor was it plausible they wanted to destroy it to keep it out of our hands: transporting the thing was an impossibility. There was something about it that made me very uneasy, however. Its color was more than merely black: it seemed to ooze darkness whenever I looked away, and I seemed to catch a bit of motion from out of the corner of my eye.</p><p></p><p>Egan was the first to grasp its nature. “Necrotic,” he yelled. “I don’t think it’s a dragon egg at all!”</p><p></p><p>Two kobolds had reached it and were beginning to pound on its shell. They no longer cared about their own lives: they had to open that egg. We were fighting truly desperate creatures, but they were unsuccessful. We killed them before the black orb could be split, though it was cracked enough to glimpse what was within.</p><p></p><p>Green worms. Thousands of them. We instantly comprehended what was happening: the dragon meant to infect an entire generation of lizard folk with its necrotic spawn. Monstrous, but efficient. We could not kill them all nor even a fraction as Verdre and Egan had depleted their reserves: she could not spin her Moonbeam again, and Egan had no fire left but for some sparks.</p><p></p><p>“Mistress,” I whispered. And then more loudly to my aunt, “What do we do?”</p><p></p><p>Fortunately Verdre is unmoved by despair.</p><p></p><p>“Sehanine!” her voice rang out through the cavern. “You have coerced your beloved Etona to come here to fight, and to die for she will give her life here, we both know her heart, and for an alien people a land away from her home which you cast her out of! And yet she is still here for you. And I am here for you! Use me in whatever way you must, but help uuu...aaaaahh!”</p><p></p><p>Her eyes turned silver – She was here! – and Verdre’s body arced. Out of her fingertips strands of silver light coalesced and moved off weaving a little pattern in the air that I recognized immediately. My Mistress must have departed then, for Verdre hit the ground as if a dropped stone, unconscious. Goddess, please let her merely be unconscious!</p><p></p><p>“Verdre!” I cried.</p><p></p><p>Egan in the meantime watched the white weave. It drifted here and there before finally choosing him, then it dove into his hands so quickly that he yelped. But they were now blazing with white fire. He quickly comprehended that this was for him to wield. He made rapid, complicated gestures and then swept through the air with his arm as if releasing a giant spinning top. The flames whirled into a storm in front of him, and with a gesture he spun it over to that black pot boiling over with corruption and incinerated it.</p><p></p><p>The Clutch’s eggs were safe.</p><p></p><p>I ran to Verdre. She was panting, her complexion pale, but after a moment she was able to sit up in my arms. She nodded that she was OK.</p><p></p><p>“One of them got away,” announced Mel bitterly. “Through there,” and she pointed at chests piled up in front of a corridor that led out. I dashed after it until the tunnel broke out into marshland some ways away. Verdre was right on my heels muttering about seeing what would happen if one day I used that great brain of mine. We gave the area a quick prowl: the area was clear of kobolds, lizardmen, dragons – everything but bugs. There were always bugs.</p><p></p><p>The chests were filled with gems, gold, silver and platinum, just the way a dragon likes it. Still, this was not Ithane’s lair, so why would she leave it here? Perhaps when she visited she liked to have some coins waiting.</p><p></p><p>We sent the one kobold we managed to capture back to retrieve Hiska. When he came, he told us the treasure was all ours – his people wanted nothing to do with it. As we hauled it out, we passed by the shaman. He was taking his wrath out on the little reptilian: it was . . . grisly. Truly terrifying. I lost my appetite for several hours after. Even Verdre blanched, and she has been known to play with her prey when in a particularly foul mood.</p><p></p><p>Back at the tree Verdre had shocking news for me: she was going to stay behind.</p><p></p><p>“Are you serious?” I cried. “After all this time apart, after looking for me and me dreaming of one day seeing you and then . . . are you insane? Or, what, what have I done? Why would leave me?” And on and on, I am afraid. She was gently shushing me, repeating my Druidic name during my entire outburst until I finally quieted.</p><p></p><p>“I will only be half a cycle behind you, <em>inro</em>. You have felt it, this place’s power. For me it is almost overwhelming; it is an assault on my senses. I must study it, so I must be able to return here. I must know how to return here from several directions following sight, scent and the wild pathways. And I must befriend these beings so that I may live here for a time. This is a world of wonderment, of ancient potency. I would not be surprised if there is at least one gate here – perhaps to the Fey, perhaps to other places – and I would discover it as well. And so allow me to remain here a while, Lun.” She was not really asking my permission: she was telling me what was to happen. But it was nice of her to phrase it that way.</p><p></p><p>“Very well. Our path leads back to Diamond Lake and then either into the mountains o’erhanging it or to the human capital city. I will leave notice along with other notes with the representative from the Briarwood Lodge at the garrison.” I touched my forehead to hers. “I will miss you.”</p><p></p><p>“My heart . . . .” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she held me instead for a long moment. When she released me, she added with a smile: “You will not elude me again, priestess.” She waved a hand back to the north. “You are needed. Go save the world, chosen one. I will be with you to watch, soon.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>We returned to the keep, said our goodbyes, gathered messages and our horses, then we departed for the north. Back to the clear and cool air, back to the crisp visage of My Mistress (she had looked as wan as I had felt down there in The Wilt, my name forever for that suffocating bog).</p><p></p><p>Diamond Lake was not as we had left it: fire in the mines, the cult scattered, executions. The Dourstone mine had been invaded by the garrison, the cult of Vecna dispersed with a few captured but many scattered to the winds. The dwarf, Dourstone, had been hanged for harboring them. I didn’t know you could successfully hang a dwarf.</p><p></p><p>Most important to me, though, was Phreet: she was gone. She had fled the town leaving me only this note:</p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'">Etona,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'">I want you to know that I really tried to do the right thing. I really did. I need you to know that. But I can't be something I am not. The world that I live in keeps calling me back. A few days ago, I answered it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'">Smenk's goons came back and offered me a job. A really good one. Even paid me a portion up front for it. By the time you find this, I am sure you have figured out most of what has happened. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'">Why do people write letters? This takes forever. I mean, I appreciate you teaching me to read and write, but this is really boring. Anyways, as you can imagine things did not go according to plan. Our job was to sneak in and take some crates with Smenk's marker on them but he had plans of his own. He paid some of the guys on our crew to do...a bit more. Things got out of hand. I mean the Sheriff and the Garrison got involved in this whole mine business. Lots of people got hurt and they even started an investigation to see who was involved. I had to take the money you left because Smenk stiffed me for the rest of my cut. I am sorry about that, but Diamond Lake was getting too dangerous. People I worked with were ending up dead. The world has gone crazy. I am going to do as you said, but not exactly the way you wanted me to. Greyhawk seems like a fine place to start over. I will be fine. You have your own troubles to worry about, you don't need to worry about me anymore.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Lucida Sans Unicode'">-Phreet</span></p><p></p><p>Another ringing blow to my soul. I wondered idly if this feeling is two parts in ten what what mothers feel when their children go away into the violent world? I should never want this, and yet, despite all the grief she caused me, I only remember the light in her face when she understood something I was teaching her. She is good person with a terrible start in life. She is hard from knocked around, calloused from fighting life, but she is not bad. And she is probably skilled enough to make her way.</p><p></p><p>Nevertheless I spoke with Madame Z, but there seemed to be little she could do without time and a lot of money. I would have to find Phreet myself. And I will, but later. She will be all right for the short term. Sehanine – and her own cunning – will protect her until I can.</p><p></p><p>In the meantime we had a choice to make: to the dragon or Greyhawke? Both are urgent missions, but Rey said she was going to her mistress – even alone – right now, and so I follow as will Rishka, the Speaker’s other protector.</p><p></p><p>We prepared food, special herbs for the altitude, extra blankets and heavy, warm clothing. Rishka was able to move the coins onto a magic disk that floated with him for many hours each day. I told the captain and the representative of Briarwood Lodge where we were going – though not what we were doing – and that we were staying up there for perhaps a week. We would return to Diamond Lake and thence on to Greyhawke.</p><p></p><p>Egan and Melinde did not come with us. For Egan, he was busy with research and also did not look forward to meeting a dragon nor to the journey to see her. Melinde refused to go, she declared, moments before we were about to tell her that she couldn’t come. As well, she had garrison duties in conjunction with our foray south and our upcoming one to Greyhawke where she would be valuable.</p><p></p><p>A prayer for Phreet, another for Verdre, and we departed.</p><p></p><p>Four days to My Mistress’ full face.</p><p></p><p>Four days . . . .</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Alexander Bryant, post: 7229199, member: 6884000"] [b]Journal of Etona - Entry Nine[/b] I supposed it was time to remove three more thick-headed warriors from the world. It will be good riddance, but honestly why is it always Battle to the Death? This is Rey’s trial, so I will once again fight as bidden, perhaps die today as tacitly bidden, here in this wet oven, surrounded by alien beings, enmeshed in their politics because I am enmeshed in a town of humans because I loved two women of the Fey. I am swept along. How many of these choices, I wonder, have been mine? There was much talk in Draconic between Rey, the arrogant black-scaled king on his throne and his two guardians. I honestly do not remember any of their names, full of Ss and Hs and Ks: Shaka and Hashish and Kiss . . . kiss? We were to engage the two guardians first. Somehow Rey convinced these three that separating their party and attacking our greater numbers was a good idea. So Hashish, which means The One With The Club, and Kisskiss “I have sharp claws, mrow!” advanced on us. Hashish’s comically huge and jagged weapon healed him with every blow he landed. Kisskiss wore poison. They were tough and troublesome but terribly outmatched. They both died in short order because of course we have Rey. And now fierce cousin Verdre! And our fire wizard and a screaming, red-haired killing machine. What did they think was going to happen? The black-scaled tyrant of the band attacked us next after he and Rey traded what I presume were insults. He had an ornate black spear that, once thrown, would reappear in his hand. He wore bracers that glowed faintly as they turned aside attack after attack, and the few that made it through struck feebly at a tough scaled hide. We were wearing him down, but he was doing the same to Mel and Rey. And then Verdre was stunned by one of his blows. He saw her throat and reared back to take her life . . . I had to be calm. I and She both knew what the next moment brought if [I]me’ara amo[/I] died right here fighting only because I am. It could not be a normal arrow – that would just bounce off. And I could not get there in time with a dagger. I narrowed my eyes. Reached out my will. Called to Angivre. She flared, and I drew back with nothing – no arrow but only faith, as I had before I betrayed Her – and I felt an unfamiliar coldness on my fingertips. The Silver cord stretched. Recoiled . . . . . . and a gray shard steamed through the air piercing the throat of the dragonkin. He went rigid, tried to bring his claw up to the already-fading bolt which had left behind small white crystals, and fell. He was stone dead. *** I ran to Verdre and threw my arms around her. She looked a little surprised and murmured “Yes, OK. It is done.” My aunt is tough – she travels alone for most of her life and doesn’t shy from danger – but I don’t think she knew what peril she had been in during that spray of heartbeats. The Silver had been gray, not white. The image turned over again and again in my mind. I believe it had been cold instead of . . . well, I do not know that part: I have never fired on anyone who was able to tell me the sensation. But if so, the steam had been its frozen passage through hot, moist air, perhaps the first icy thing this land had ever known. While the rest of the party recovered and Rey spoke to Hishka, I picked out an uncrowded spot and drew back the Silver again. It came once more. And again. And again. [I]My humble thanks, My Mistress of Mercy.[/I] She had been angry with me, deservedly so, and I had borne her wrath without despair. Well, without very much despair. But she knows my heart: however much I give it to others from whatever foolish notion that occurs to me, I will always be Her Etona. I was crying when Verdre knelt down in front of me. “Etona?” Her hawk-like features expressed puzzlement. Few, I expect, get to see that expression when facing my aunt. “I am happy,” I smiled for it was so. Verdre shook her head with wonder. “May you never grow up, little Lun, mine,” and she kissed me on the forehead. *** We recovered, bound our wounds, healed. The lizard folk wanted us to have the usurpers’ weapons. Sussek’s, Sauce’s, Sleestak’s (I really cannot hold these names in my head) ornate ebony spear was already in Rey’s hands. She balanced it, testing it, admiring its lines. She hurled it and was so taken aback when it reappeared in her outstretched hand that she nearly dropped it. She practiced several more throws and quickly came to understand when to reach for its returning form. Her grin was dazzling: I have never seen her so pleased. Rey is queen of this folk now. Apparently those are the rules. “You will be a wise ruler, m’lady,” I said with a sly smile. “You will come to love their food; the pleasant, warm nights; and you can merrily play with their children whenever you want!” I was laughing as she chased me off. Verdre took up the jest: “Queen Huntress, have you cast your eye across your people’s many eligible males? You must have an heir: it is the first order of a royal!” Rey made a rude gesture Verdre, but we were all grinning. *** During the battle, I had dived into a stream that led through the roots to a gap underneath the ground. After Rey had consulted with the shaman, she explained to us that we needed to go into the Clutch, and that this small river would take us there. Since we were to be underwater for some time, Hiska told us we were to receive temporary gills. The situation demanded it: the eggs were still accessible to an increasingly untrustworthy black dragon whose intentions we did not know – we had never known – so we had to go down there into a black, enclosed tube of water using a magical deformation from an alien shaman to keep us alive. I offered it up to My Lady of Obstacles. Verdre refused: she would use the old magic to change herself. “I will be with you, [I]inro[/I], neh?” she said to me, sensing my worry. I nodded. In front of everyone she became a crocodile to the wonder of the tribe. Egan was fascinated as well. I needed to remind myself to help him talk to Verdre: his curiosity was killing him. The spell was cast. My neck convulsed and slits opened up in my skin. I felt dizzy and unsure how to breathe, as if I had had to think about breathing all my life but this morning simply forgot. Rey took my hand – for her, practically the tender embrace of a lover – and said, “Hiska says it will be better under the water. Come, I will be nearby.” I read distress in her eyes as well but she was, with an effort, exuding calm. That I am surrounded by such people lends me strength. Verdre led, I followed, Rey and Egan and Mel behind me somewhere. There was some reason why no one among the tribe could go in, something to do with appearing to remain loyal to the dragon, that all of these events should seem to be out of their hands and we were just invaders doing what we willed. Croco-aunt (I had many such names of this sort) had emerged far ahead of me into a cave of hundreds of oblong eggs overseen by an enormous black egg twice my height. By the time I was out of the water, she was dragging a still jerking little reptile man that I recognized as a kobold back behind some rocks. His fellows were sounding the alarm and assembling to fight the deadly interloper. I downed one with a pair of sizzling cold arrows – should I call them [I]arclun[/I] since they seemed to be different from her usual radiant [I]arquae[/I]? – from Angivre. Egan, Rey and Mel joined the fight. We advanced into the cavern, very careful around the eggs, to meet four more of little dracos, two of whom were advancing with intent on the black egg. Did they mean to break it? I could scarce see a fledgling dragon being much of a threat to us, nor was it plausible they wanted to destroy it to keep it out of our hands: transporting the thing was an impossibility. There was something about it that made me very uneasy, however. Its color was more than merely black: it seemed to ooze darkness whenever I looked away, and I seemed to catch a bit of motion from out of the corner of my eye. Egan was the first to grasp its nature. “Necrotic,” he yelled. “I don’t think it’s a dragon egg at all!” Two kobolds had reached it and were beginning to pound on its shell. They no longer cared about their own lives: they had to open that egg. We were fighting truly desperate creatures, but they were unsuccessful. We killed them before the black orb could be split, though it was cracked enough to glimpse what was within. Green worms. Thousands of them. We instantly comprehended what was happening: the dragon meant to infect an entire generation of lizard folk with its necrotic spawn. Monstrous, but efficient. We could not kill them all nor even a fraction as Verdre and Egan had depleted their reserves: she could not spin her Moonbeam again, and Egan had no fire left but for some sparks. “Mistress,” I whispered. And then more loudly to my aunt, “What do we do?” Fortunately Verdre is unmoved by despair. “Sehanine!” her voice rang out through the cavern. “You have coerced your beloved Etona to come here to fight, and to die for she will give her life here, we both know her heart, and for an alien people a land away from her home which you cast her out of! And yet she is still here for you. And I am here for you! Use me in whatever way you must, but help uuu...aaaaahh!” Her eyes turned silver – She was here! – and Verdre’s body arced. Out of her fingertips strands of silver light coalesced and moved off weaving a little pattern in the air that I recognized immediately. My Mistress must have departed then, for Verdre hit the ground as if a dropped stone, unconscious. Goddess, please let her merely be unconscious! “Verdre!” I cried. Egan in the meantime watched the white weave. It drifted here and there before finally choosing him, then it dove into his hands so quickly that he yelped. But they were now blazing with white fire. He quickly comprehended that this was for him to wield. He made rapid, complicated gestures and then swept through the air with his arm as if releasing a giant spinning top. The flames whirled into a storm in front of him, and with a gesture he spun it over to that black pot boiling over with corruption and incinerated it. The Clutch’s eggs were safe. I ran to Verdre. She was panting, her complexion pale, but after a moment she was able to sit up in my arms. She nodded that she was OK. “One of them got away,” announced Mel bitterly. “Through there,” and she pointed at chests piled up in front of a corridor that led out. I dashed after it until the tunnel broke out into marshland some ways away. Verdre was right on my heels muttering about seeing what would happen if one day I used that great brain of mine. We gave the area a quick prowl: the area was clear of kobolds, lizardmen, dragons – everything but bugs. There were always bugs. The chests were filled with gems, gold, silver and platinum, just the way a dragon likes it. Still, this was not Ithane’s lair, so why would she leave it here? Perhaps when she visited she liked to have some coins waiting. We sent the one kobold we managed to capture back to retrieve Hiska. When he came, he told us the treasure was all ours – his people wanted nothing to do with it. As we hauled it out, we passed by the shaman. He was taking his wrath out on the little reptilian: it was . . . grisly. Truly terrifying. I lost my appetite for several hours after. Even Verdre blanched, and she has been known to play with her prey when in a particularly foul mood. Back at the tree Verdre had shocking news for me: she was going to stay behind. “Are you serious?” I cried. “After all this time apart, after looking for me and me dreaming of one day seeing you and then . . . are you insane? Or, what, what have I done? Why would leave me?” And on and on, I am afraid. She was gently shushing me, repeating my Druidic name during my entire outburst until I finally quieted. “I will only be half a cycle behind you, [I]inro[/I]. You have felt it, this place’s power. For me it is almost overwhelming; it is an assault on my senses. I must study it, so I must be able to return here. I must know how to return here from several directions following sight, scent and the wild pathways. And I must befriend these beings so that I may live here for a time. This is a world of wonderment, of ancient potency. I would not be surprised if there is at least one gate here – perhaps to the Fey, perhaps to other places – and I would discover it as well. And so allow me to remain here a while, Lun.” She was not really asking my permission: she was telling me what was to happen. But it was nice of her to phrase it that way. “Very well. Our path leads back to Diamond Lake and then either into the mountains o’erhanging it or to the human capital city. I will leave notice along with other notes with the representative from the Briarwood Lodge at the garrison.” I touched my forehead to hers. “I will miss you.” “My heart . . . .” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she held me instead for a long moment. When she released me, she added with a smile: “You will not elude me again, priestess.” She waved a hand back to the north. “You are needed. Go save the world, chosen one. I will be with you to watch, soon.” *** We returned to the keep, said our goodbyes, gathered messages and our horses, then we departed for the north. Back to the clear and cool air, back to the crisp visage of My Mistress (she had looked as wan as I had felt down there in The Wilt, my name forever for that suffocating bog). Diamond Lake was not as we had left it: fire in the mines, the cult scattered, executions. The Dourstone mine had been invaded by the garrison, the cult of Vecna dispersed with a few captured but many scattered to the winds. The dwarf, Dourstone, had been hanged for harboring them. I didn’t know you could successfully hang a dwarf. Most important to me, though, was Phreet: she was gone. She had fled the town leaving me only this note: [FONT=Lucida Sans Unicode]Etona, I want you to know that I really tried to do the right thing. I really did. I need you to know that. But I can't be something I am not. The world that I live in keeps calling me back. A few days ago, I answered it. Smenk's goons came back and offered me a job. A really good one. Even paid me a portion up front for it. By the time you find this, I am sure you have figured out most of what has happened. Why do people write letters? This takes forever. I mean, I appreciate you teaching me to read and write, but this is really boring. Anyways, as you can imagine things did not go according to plan. Our job was to sneak in and take some crates with Smenk's marker on them but he had plans of his own. He paid some of the guys on our crew to do...a bit more. Things got out of hand. I mean the Sheriff and the Garrison got involved in this whole mine business. Lots of people got hurt and they even started an investigation to see who was involved. I had to take the money you left because Smenk stiffed me for the rest of my cut. I am sorry about that, but Diamond Lake was getting too dangerous. People I worked with were ending up dead. The world has gone crazy. I am going to do as you said, but not exactly the way you wanted me to. Greyhawk seems like a fine place to start over. I will be fine. You have your own troubles to worry about, you don't need to worry about me anymore. -Phreet[/FONT] Another ringing blow to my soul. I wondered idly if this feeling is two parts in ten what what mothers feel when their children go away into the violent world? I should never want this, and yet, despite all the grief she caused me, I only remember the light in her face when she understood something I was teaching her. She is good person with a terrible start in life. She is hard from knocked around, calloused from fighting life, but she is not bad. And she is probably skilled enough to make her way. Nevertheless I spoke with Madame Z, but there seemed to be little she could do without time and a lot of money. I would have to find Phreet myself. And I will, but later. She will be all right for the short term. Sehanine – and her own cunning – will protect her until I can. In the meantime we had a choice to make: to the dragon or Greyhawke? Both are urgent missions, but Rey said she was going to her mistress – even alone – right now, and so I follow as will Rishka, the Speaker’s other protector. We prepared food, special herbs for the altitude, extra blankets and heavy, warm clothing. Rishka was able to move the coins onto a magic disk that floated with him for many hours each day. I told the captain and the representative of Briarwood Lodge where we were going – though not what we were doing – and that we were staying up there for perhaps a week. We would return to Diamond Lake and thence on to Greyhawke. Egan and Melinde did not come with us. For Egan, he was busy with research and also did not look forward to meeting a dragon nor to the journey to see her. Melinde refused to go, she declared, moments before we were about to tell her that she couldn’t come. As well, she had garrison duties in conjunction with our foray south and our upcoming one to Greyhawke where she would be valuable. A prayer for Phreet, another for Verdre, and we departed. Four days to My Mistress’ full face. Four days . . . . [/QUOTE]
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