Month: August 2017

“The Stonemaster says we are watched by the wyrms of the Laurels. Magick must be kept to the tower. In fact, he’s forbidden its use in this chamber by anyone save himself! The eyes and minds of the vile Tower of Radiance reach even to the great tower. You weren’t around for the last war, were you Dawson? I saw the multi-colored wyrm rip apart the western defenses. While our forces attacked at Roaring Gap and my father guarded the walls to the east, the wyrm’s backside attack almost breached the inner curtain. Had he done so, the beast would have befouled the inner ward and the donjon of Koorlost? My father Ralf fell at the talons and spells of the prismatic dragon Innycines,” the Dark Sorcerer called Sam replied.

“Aye. I was not at the battle, but my grandfather’s grandfather, who was one of the few who survived the collapse of the outer curtain, was, and told of the devastation. My grandfather passed the story to us. As youths, Koboldlings, we thought the old geezer, my grandfather, just spun wild tales. He avowed the dragon spewed forth in turn breath attacks of fire, ice, lightning, acid, and poison gas. He swears that’s how his grandfather lost his sight. The evil beast flashed light from the pores of its skin, from its very scales. The brightness, the brilliance of the light, stole my great grandfather’s sight! I never really believed the stories about the dragon,” Jacques Dawson countered.

All the while the gangly Kobold used all his wiry strength and uncanny masonry skills to slap the soft mud with his trowel and gauge its height. He added, “You know, this mud will be as hard as the stone of these walls when it dries. It won’t need the Stonemaster’s touch.”

“Let’s stop talking falsely now. The hour is getting late. There’s so much confusion, no pun intended, in these lands. I’ll sweeten the pot. Look at this longsword. I cannot wield the weapon. It’s refused to enter the hand of a Dark Sorcerer. That should interest you,” Confusious urged.

He extended a simple yet beautiful weapon and Alisskirin grasped the hilt of the longsword.

“Take me before he changes his mind,” an appealing feminine voice communicated silently to the Light Sorcerer. The wanderer smiled when he saw the look of surprise on the Light Sorcerer’s face. He didn’t hear the sword’s plea but he knew she was making it. He wanted this to happen. He had tried unsuccessfully to barter with the weapon many times.

“You offer knowledge and an artifact of likely enormous value for but the casting of a single spell. The Haste Spell would not benefit me directly. I don’t see how those of my Order could be offended by my helping you, particularly when you offer something that might serve as a boon in these dire times. Stranger, you have a deal. I know not why a few moments speed has such value for you. Allow me a few moments when you are ready to receive the spell,” Alisskirin agreed.

“Take your few moments, for I am ready. I yen to explore the depths of the desert and the night is young,” Confusious eagerly replied.

“Fair enough,” Alisskirin answered.

Alisskirin placed a dark flattened object in Confusious’ right hand. The hard to come by pieces of Dragon scale required substantial preparation to make the essential ingredient of the Haste Spell usable. Confusious placed the crunchy chip into his mouth and began to chew boisterously. Alisskirin then embarked upon an incantation. Although it seemed to last hours, the hermit actually endured only minutes of searing pain in his feet and legs and a knot and queasiness in his stomach. Twas the price of the spell. Dragon scale, particularly when enhanced by Magick, was not for eating! A creepy crawly sensation and an irrepressible urge to move his legs replaced the searing pain. Confusious felt the urge to run. Acquiring speed greatly enhanced his chances of survival in the great deserts and swamps. The spell gave him limitless energies and was well worth the discomfort.

The hermit attained the gift of speed. The burst of Magick associated with Alisskirin’s casting the spell caught the attention of the patrons scattered about the room.  In those days, the presence of a sorcerer was unusual.

The young Light Sorcerer possessed the aged epistle and the wondrous sword. The sword revealed her name was Exeter. As a sorcerer Alisskirin would not be able to wield her, but she hoped he would find for her a worthwhile bearer.

The Cloudmare bore him far into the skies and sailed by an aerie of two beautiful birds as white as snow.

The Cloudmare telepathically relayed to Boton, “Phoenixes. I’ll go low by the nest. Show them respect and they may grant you a feather or some down.”

The Cloudmare Urra descended and paused near the nest, which contained a single chick. Fluffy down surrounded the little Phoenix. The mated pair cooed gently. The Cloudmare eased toward the nest slowly. The larger Phoenix nodded.

Unspoken words appeared in Boton’s mind and warned, “You may touch the chick. Be gentle. It’s a great honor.”

Boton slowly extended his left hand and touched the little bird. He had never felt such softness…or pleasantness. For a brief moment all his grief left him and, instead of a warm little bird, he felt the softness of his mother’s skin, smelled her sweet breath, and for a moment felt fully comforted. Scratches on his arms and legs healed. The incantation for the Fifth Level Light Sorcery Spell Cure Critical Wounds appeared in his consciousness. What Boton Klarje Jhundi didn’t know was that no other person who professed to be a Dark Sorcerer had ever known this incantation.

The female Phoenix extended her beak and presented Boton with a bit of the precious down.

“It’s the material component for the spell. The gift is given by the Phoenixes at the request of their friend Innycines who is bereaved beyond saying. You are honored, young one. If you are ready, we will return,” Urra silently suggested.

Boton sat up. Maranna brought him thick sweet nectar and some effervescent liquid. He was famished, and quickly quaffed the delicious nectar.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Jove’s nectar,” Maranna replied. She offered no more explanation or description.

Boton didn’t know what Jove’s nectar was, but it was tasty and he finished it rapidly.

The womanly figure stared at him. He squirmed a bit and asked, “Ma’am, please don’t be offended, but what are you? I…I mean, who are you? I mean…I know your name is Maranna, but…I’m sorry!”

Maranna laughed and answered, “That’s a fair question. I am a Siren. You rest in Cragmore, my home. I take it you’ve never seen a Siren before, Boton Jhundi.”

“Actually, I’ve read of you. Siren. Huldra. Harpy. I thought you were hideous, without a backside. The texts say you have no heart and are like a hollow tree,” the youth answered ashamedly.

“Well, let us disprove that now,” she answered whimsically.

With that, she turned slowly and Boton saw that the skin of her back was as pearly as that of her chest. The full wings were beautiful. The only other odd thing otherwise was the thick brushy red tail. She was foxy, figuratively and literally.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied timidly.

“You need rest. I’ll fetch more nourishment. Please don’t try to leave the cavern. Unless you can fly. Oh, I almost forgot, you are a sorcerer, aren’t you. You probably can fly,” she teased.

“I cannot fly. That Magick is beyond me. Besides I don’t have a feather,” the young sorcerer replied.

“Well don’t be coveting any of mine. I don’t relish being plucked,” Maranna said and laughed again.

Being a mediocre sorcerer at best, Arthur lacked the talent and skills of his older brother Rhiann and initially refused Maranna’s gift of the purple staff Atlas.  The winged temptress whispered a melody in the young sorcerer’s ear and convinced the younger brother of her greatest friend to change his mind. She massaged his back and pursed her lips to kiss the young sorcerer. Beguiled by her gentle touch, he leaned forward to accept the buss, but she pulled away at the last moment.

“I must not!” she declared.

Dazed and confused, the shy sorcerer accepted the staff from the Siren.

“I’ll take this artifact because it’s my brother’s wish that I do so. I’ve never understood his way of thinking or known his goals. I’ve favored the study of history and literature. The people of this township are growing stronger and more loyal to one another. I’ll make this relic an heirloom of the people of Koorlost,” Arthur declared.

Maranna said, “I trust you’ll find among them the sorcerer most worthy of bearing this fine staff.”

Arthur Seigh Klarje leveled the staff before him and marveled, “It really feels good in one’s hand. What…I didn’t know how to cast…I can’t…well I suppose I can!  Magick is a wondrous thing! Siren, I’m empowered!”

Being a mediocre sorcerer at best, Arthur lacked the talent and skills of his older brother Rhiann and initially refused Maranna’s gift of the purple staff Atlas.  The winged temptress whispered a melody in the young sorcerer’s ear and convinced the younger brother of her greatest friend to change his mind. She massaged his back and pursed her lips to kiss the young sorcerer. Beguiled by her gentle touch, he leaned forward to accept the buss, but she pulled away at the last moment.

“I must not!” she declared.

Dazed and confused, the shy sorcerer accepted the staff from the Siren.

“I’ll take this artifact because it’s my brother’s wish that I do so. I’ve never understood his way of thinking or known his goals. I’ve favored the study of history and literature. The people of this township are growing stronger and more loyal to one another. I’ll make this relic an heirloom of the people of Koorlost,” Arthur declared.

Maranna said, “I trust you’ll find among them the sorcerer most worthy of bearing this fine staff.”

Arthur Seigh Klarje leveled the staff before him and marveled, “It really feels good in one’s hand. What…I didn’t know how to cast…I can’t…well I suppose I can!  Magick is a wondrous thing! Siren, I’m empowered!”

 

Nigel began to stroke his short, neatly trimmed beard and for awhile he said nothing.  Eomore stood and walked over to the bars.  Nigel remained seated on the cot.  After about three minutes he said, “You ask me to leave a certain meal and a dry bed to undertake a Deathquest and offer me a forsaken spot of land if I succeed.  Who are the other fools who serve themselves as though they were lambs being led to the slaughter?”

Eomore faced him.  “I will lead the party.  The mage Roscoe will lend his great powers to our efforts.  Knarra the high priestess will accompany.  The elven prince Vannelei, Deron the dwarven swordsman, the physician Sedoar, an elven girl Cara, Tjol Bergin – a tried warrior, and several of my strongest and most skilled rangers will make up the group attempting to follow the raiders.”

“A fickle magician, a holy head, two long-eared freaks, a sawbones, an idiot, and a prince – a motly crew to go on a Deathquest.  Yet you must know that my greatest weakness is my love of my ability to go where I choose when I choose.  I will say in advance that I will perform my ‘duties’ to the best of my abilities, because my own life will likely be in jeopardy.  I will also say that from what you have told me, we are all fools and have little chance of success and better chance of death.  Death, however, is the better alternative only when compared to two other things – marriage and imprisonment.  I will not question your command unless you try to do my job and do it incorrectly.  But I don’t expect any of this bowing and ‘my Lord’ stuff – that is not my ilk.  I agree to your terms, Prince, and I know the strength of your word.  I’m glad the tables aren’t turned so that I don’t have to trust myself,” Nigel added.

 

The beating of the great wings created turbulence in the air. The tall mountains resembled small dunes far below. Beyond the mountains, a plain came into view and in the distance a great river appeared as a rivulet. There was a speck upon the plain. As the winged creature descended, the speck changed to a large keep strategically situated upon a minor plateau rising above the plain. The walls were filled with alarmed defenders. Panic ensued with the approach of the hulking beast. The air was filled with arrows fired from the wall. A few struck the approaching creature but were no more than a nuisance. The great wings stopped beating and were extended in a fixed position. A great whistling sound filled the air. The gargantuan began to coast downward and prepared for a landing. The defenders rushed to self-protective positions. Taekora landed anyway. The arrows continued. Frustrated, Taekora inhaled deeply and exhaled, not Dragonfire, just Dragon breath, but it was enough to knock most of the defenders to the seat of their pants. Taekora then roared.

Knarra rushed into the enceinte, the quadrangle of the Fane of the Setting Sun. The massive, angry, ancient, prismatic Dragon stood on its stocky hind legs and beat its wings. The force kept the defenders on the ground.

Knarra stood before the beast. The tresses of the Priestess flew madly in the great wind but Knarra had no difficulty standing.

“You are messing up my hair, Taekora!” Knarra said emphatically.

“I’ve not received a very warm reception my old friend,” the massive Dragon answered, stopping her wings.

The confused men and Dwarves slowly stood.

Anectrophinea stumbled on the lair of the Cavedragon Phanres. Phanres was over eighty feet long and stood almost sixty feet tall when reared upon its hindlegs.  Small vestigial wings on its back served only to aid in warding off blows, for they would never hoist its bulk into the air.  Where was there to fly in the caverns anyway?  Magick did not touch Phanres. The dragon held great contempt for those who used Magick.  The great beast had long since abandoned the practice of going above ground for prey and treasures. The caverns supplied it with more than enough even for a dragon’s standards. Old Phanres dominated the dark caves beneath Parallan. Anectrophinea heard the beast’s heavy breathing and detected the scent of its lair. She quickly cast Invisibility and peered around the corner.

Phanres sniffed and said, “Aha! A snack! Invisibility won’t help you, sorcerer! This old nose knows right where you are! Ha ha ha! I made a funny! My nose knows! Please don’t run. I’m going to catch you anyway and it’ll be over much quicker for you.”

Anectrophinea said, “You aren’t going to eat me, you blowhard!” She stepped around the corner and dispelled the Invisibility. She was in full view of the massive Cavedragon.

Phanres said, “Aw, it’s a pretty girl. I bet you taste better than you look, too. Come on over here and jump in my mouth.”

Anectrophinea replied, “I was thinking how much my warriors would enjoy Cavedragon stew!” The Cavedragon snapped its maw at her. She quickly moved aside.

Phanres laughed, “It’s pretty and funny. But I sure am hungry. Aw shucks, I missed! Hold still! I’m going to eat sooner or later.”

The sorceress tried a subtle Charm Spell. Phanres said, “I’m too hungry for that, pretty wizard.”

Theandra cleared a small area, removed invisibility, and attended her leg. Visualizing the wound made attending it easier. An enhanced healing spell mended the wound. She saw a group of bronze-skinned, seven-foot tall muscular blokes without weapons moving stealthily through the woods. She used her childhood spell “Tree” and transformed to a sturdy sapling. At the last moment, she remembered to present red foliage. One of the Draiths sniffed around her and went so far as to touch her “bark.” The spell wasn’t illusory. Theandra was a tree!

The Draith muttered, “We’ve passed this way many times. I don’t recall this tree. It could be Kiennish or Drelvish tomfoolery!” The powerful warrior drew back his strong hand and struck “Tree-andra” with an open-handed blow. The force of the blow shook her foundation and fomented horrific pain. She struggled to maintain the spell.

Another Draith said, “I hope you didn’t hurt your hand, Dontax. It’s what you get for thinking you know every tree in the forest!” Three other Draiths laughed.

Dontax growled, “Go on and laugh a******! If I’d been right, when we turned our backs, we’d be scorched by Magick.”  The incredibly handsome warriors moved on after a time and moved toward the meadow.

Theandra caught her breath, fought back tears, and scorched the five Draiths with an enhanced Fire Spell. The Draiths held on much longer than Dark Elves. Dontax crawled most of the way back to her and died at her feet. Shouts rang out from the meadow. A large party of Drelves ran toward the site of the spell.

Theandra said stoically, “There’s plenty more for you.”

She conjured and sent a ray of fire toward the Drelves. Fortunately, Seilvre carried the Keotum Stone and Lignis held the Xennic (Enhancing) Stone. Theandra’s spell enveloped the Drelves. The forest folks suffered non-lethal burns. Seilvre organized a rapid retreat into the forest.

Dee Tenet maneuvered the wyvern across the meadow. The beast landed a few paces from Saligia’s entourage. Riders labored to calm their terrified steeds. Wyverns were fond of Kiennites’ stone pony mounts and oft made snacks of the stout equines. The wyvern rider approached the liege of Aulgmoor and gloated, “General Saligia, I have cleared your path. The Spellweaver was in the guise of a pale skinned youth with small round ears, but he did not fool me! The wretch now writhes in agony on the forest floor.”

Skeptically High Protector Cu Seven asked, “Pale skin? Are you sure you didn’t shoot a Mender?”

Dee Tenet staunchly replied, “Absolutely! He wasn’t as pale as a Mender. He was protected against Death Magick! I shot the Spellweaver, I tell you, and in the unlikelihood, he survives the wyvern’s venom, every minute you delay your attack allows them time to aide him. Be bold!”

Saligia menacingly growled, “Don’t tell me when to attack, wyvern-rider. Your lot has let me down before. My eyes have looked upon this Spellweaver. Like his scoundrel of a brother, he is not pale. He’s as orange as a carroty ogre’s a**. Drelvish Spellweavers are not adept at Illusory Magick. I doubt he’d be able to change his visage. How can you be so sure your fancy bolt hit the Spellweaver?”

Dee countered, “I tell you I shot him! He singed me with Fire Magick. Here’s the burn on my hide! Be bold!”

Saligia looked at Dee Tenet’s burned tunic and two scalded areas on her dark skin and replied, “You use a water sprite’s crossbow. That’s not very bold, Dee.”

Cu Seven and the warren leaders enjoyed a guffaw at the expense of the gnarly wyvern-rider.