Month: September 2017

Loyal eight-legged, eight-eyed Arachnis waited over seventy years. Finally, a flash of red light filled the cavern and heralded the return of his Master, the Demonlord Uyrg. His evilness arrived on the block of red stone. The Deceiver and Arachnis bowed humbly and greeted him. Arachnis gave his master a copy of the vellum allegedly written by the wanderer Confusious about the erstwhile Head of the Order of Dark Sorcerers Boton Klarje. The furious Demonlord cursed loudly and repeatedly!

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“At least you did this well. Even I can’t tell it’s a forgery,” the Demonlord growled.

“Handwriting is one of my skills,” the bloated Arachnis bragged.

“Don’t flatter yourself. This document gives the wretched weakling Boton his deserved legacy. Cursed sorcerers! Cursed staves! Cursed gray lights!

“#@! *#!

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“Cursed above all others, the winged wench! The Siren’s death doesn’t satisfy my anger! I wanted her to suffer more! First time I’ve been thwarted, even for a time! This world will pay dearly!” the Demonlord shrieked.

Mayard carried the Copper Mountain stone for years. Grayness and a female warrior visited his dreams and told him to merge a new discovery with the Copper Maintain stone. Mayard Klarje awakened and found a fist-sized red heart-shaped stone on the foot of his bed. The stone synchronously pulsed with his beating heart. Mayard removed the Copper Mountain stone from his Bag of Holding. True to his dream visitor’s word, red fluid oozed from a single sight on the gray-red rock. Mayard placed his lips onto the stone and drank deeply of the slightly bitter crimson liquid. Mayard felt warm, flushed, and suffered a slight headache. The symptoms soon passed. The rich red fluid satisfied his thirst and hunger. Mayard placed the newfound heartstone to the site from which the liquid flowed. Intense purple and gray auras filled the room. The larger Copper Mountain stone absorbed the smaller stone. The auras briefly changed to red and then grayness filled the room. Mayard Klarje uttered the Permanence Spell incantation and touched the site where the stones came together. The spirit of the stones guided Mayard to the swordsmith Roswell Kirkey at the Copper Mountain mines. Roswell forged the great blade Exeter from the merged stones. Exeter appeared as a well-made longsword, with a hilt formed of a reddish black material and a golden blade. The hilt of the weapon retained the reddish color. No runes appeared upon the weapon and no gems adorned the hilt.  Exeter’s beauty was in her simplicity. Mayard Klarje never held Exeter. His nephew Rhiann traveled in Mayard’s guise and took possession of the blade. Exeter’s feminine warrior spirit communicated telepathically to young Rhiann, “I must have some secrets. Suffice it to say, I’m a sister of Grayness. The greatest mages will not understand the Magick that empowers me. My voice will appear in the mind of my wielder, but only when he grasps my hilt. I’m sympathetic and empathetic. I feel both the physical and mental wounds received by the person grasping my hilt. I’ll do all I can to save my wielder from falling in battle. I sense enemies within thirty paces and determine the enemy that poses the greatest threat. I’ll save my bearer and serve as a companion during dark, cold, lonely, and forsaken times.”

Elder Evelynn shared her extensive knowledge of the diverse flora and told of flesh-eating plants, unfriendly walkabouts, exploding peashooters, grab grass, walkabout bushes, orange Triffids, pyrocanthas, Tree Herders, venous fly traps, tetra-berry bushes, booderry bushes, milk trees, and walkabout bushes. When the elusive walkabout plants sensed an examiner nearby, they uprooted and walked about. Displacer plants were tricky also. The actual plant was either a pace to the left, right, front, or rear of where it appeared to be, and its auburn thorns were quite hostile. Peashooters fired projectiles from their stems that stung intruders. But most of the flora was friendly. The contrary plants served the purpose of educating the unwary of the intricacies of the forests. Orange triffids helped the youths in their horticultural studies. Xenn began classes with nymphs of the same age. Xenn learned of creatures such as wyverns, Baxcats, lee cats, Leicats, griffons, griffins, griphins, gryphons, hamadryads, humming birds, pi rannas, leprechauns, Manticores, medusas, dragons of various colors, nagas, troglodytes, Pegasi of various colors, satyrs, dryads, Minotaurs, pixies, sasquatch, trolls, wyrms, wyverns, sirens, huldra, chimeras, sphinxes, banshee, boogie men, bogeymen, brownies, centaurs, hippogriffs, Dobies, Efreet, fauns, fawns, foans, sprites, adherers, shape changers, doppelgangers, and other fanciful ilk.

At the beginning of the Xenn’s seventh year, the Teacher Boyd called him to the Old Orange Spruce.

Soon the others settled down.  The priestess and the thief sat opposite each other on old stumps as their party fell off to sleep.  Roscoe was asleep immediately.  Most of the rangers were filled with an uneasiness centered on the cloaked comrade, but eventually even the most suspicious Deron wandered into his dreams.  Fate, or perhaps good thinking, placed Eomore’s pallet near Cara.  He fell asleep with the last thing his weary eyes saw being the deep green eyes of the elf gazing at him.  There were nice things even in the wilderness.  Vannelei also quickly fell asleep.  The noble elf had been through two serious wounds recently and his weary mind took control of his body.  He fell asleep wondering again about the mysterious dark elven female – why did she seem so familiar?

The time flowed slowly for the two guards.  Nigel produced a large bladed knife from his back and began to whittle on a piece of wood.  He looked over to Knarra.  He finally said, “I guess it must be pretty lonely at the top, huh?”

The comprehensive eyes of the priestess studied him.  “What do you mean, Nigel?”

“You know, you have to spend all your time doing good deeds for lowlifes like us.  You don’t have time for yourself.”

She replied, “No, I have many diversions, Nigel, and I don’t grow weary of trying to help others.  Is that what you mean?”

“Well, not exactly, I guess what I’m trying to ask is, don’t you ever miss not having a man?” the thief smiled, thinking that he flustered the holy woman with that one.

“I have never taken a vow of celibacy, Nigel.  There is a place in everyone’s life for physical love as well as emotional love.  I care about my people, but I have never ignored my own needs,” she answered without ever taking her eyes off the man.

Nigel found himself without the words for one of the few times in his life.  Knarra again broke the silence by saying, “You lead a lonely life yourself from what I have gathered.”

“I do okay,” came the terse answer.

In this chest, there is a supply of adamantine, a never-empty vessel of the waters of fire Lake, three clear Xennic Gemstones, and a number of brilliant stones. The stones are taken from the depths of Fire Lake. They are the 1/13^th the size of an Omega Stone.”

Phyrris asked, “What does each stone do?”

Kirrie replied, “They will tell you. Effects are additive.”

Phyrris asked, “What do these gifts cost me?”

Kirrie eased over to the Spellweaver, gently rubbed his red-streaked silver hair, and kissed his cheek. “That for one thing. You’ll see when we return.”

Phyrris asked, “Are there more stones in the lake?”

Kirrie said, “I really don’t know… I haven’t checked the waters.”

Phyrris said, “If the lake is Fire Magick, its waters will not harm me.!” The young Spellweaver dropped Kirrie’s hand, slipped off his robe, and approached the water.

Kirrie said, “Wait! No! I don’t know what will happen!”

Her warning came too late. Phyrris jumped through the flickering flames into the water. He reappeared on the surface a moment later and shouted, “Come on in. The water’s fine!”

Kirrie was disinclined to acquiesce to his request. The Spellweaver swam ashore. His hair changed to fiery red and flames now flickered in his eyes. He said, “I feel great! I also found four more Xennic Gemstones.” He opened his hand and revealed a clear, red, yellow, and green stone. The Spellweaver walked over and kissed Kirrie firmly on the lips. She withdrew from him… then said, “What the heck! You’re very pretty!” and threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately.

Drops of dark red liquid appeared on the surface of the new stone. Were it orange instead of red, the liquid would have likened to Drelves’ blood. 13 drops of red fluid dripped to the floor. When the thirteenth drop struck the floor a flash of grayness filled the room.

A tall figure wearing a robe and cowl towered over the Drelves. Fathomless eyes peered out from the cowl, which covered most of his face. The tall figure before them pulled back his dark cowl and stared at the brace of Drelves in the confines of the massive Old Orange Spruce. Long auburn hair flowed down his back and deep blue eyes peered from beneath his long brows.

Agrarian stammered, “Who… who are you? Why are you here?”

The figure coolly said, “You will not recall my face after this encounter. To the point of my being here… you called me.”

Agrarian asked, “How… what do you mean, we called you?”

The tall figure answered, “The four elemental stones and the ichor of the Bloodstone fragment summoned me to this place. The power of the Windward Staves brought me. Let me first say to you, young Wizard. Magick touches you. Its touch is not always gentle and the power it bestows has consumed many a sorcerer. Be wary, particularly should the gray sun draw near. In those times Magick’s touch mimics the Grasping Hand dweomer. Use your powers carefully. My vision extends far beyond Uragh Wood. Every step you take, every move you make, I’ll be watching you. The visitor calmly said, “I thank the Staves of the Four Winds, the Windward Staves, children of the Bloodstone, the Source of Magick. Release the Bloodstone fragment.”

The robed figure moved his hands slowly from side to side. Three staffs appeared and hovered by his left flank.

Xenn managed a Command Spell, saying “Stop.” The second Droll stopped moving, but his fellows rapidly gagged and bound the young Spellweaver. Dewrong angrily ripped the vines from his massive body.

The big Droll growled. “I’m going to enjoy tearing you up, Spellweaver. Your ilk has tormented my ancestors. Stole the heirloom that controlled the Firehorses! Destroyed the Firehorse brigade! Know Dewrong Korcran will be your end.”

A Droll shook his unmoving comrade and said, “Dewrong, Tummus isn’t moving and does not speak.”

Dewrong said, “He seldom says much of import, Norgle. It was a simple spell. Smack him! He’ll probably wake up. I’m more interested in getting our prize back to camp.”

Norgle slapped Tummus. The force of the blow knocked the Droll down and aroused him. Tummus jumped up and said, “What’d you do that for, Norgle. Dewrong, Farong, Fluggle! You’ve captured the Spellweaver! May I tear off a few of his fingers?”

Dewrong said, “Patience, Tummus. There’ll be plenty of time for it. He’ll sing like a bird and tell all about Drelvedom’s defenses. Let’s make ready. Farong and Fluggle, carry his sorry a**!”

Farong said, “Boss, it won’t take both of us to carry his scrawny a**!”

Dewrong Korcran said sternly, “Listen to me, you t**ds! Keep that a******’s mouth covered and his hands secure. I don’t want spells thrown against us.”

Fluggle timidly answered, “You got it, Boss!”

Norgle asked, “What about Zagnar?”

Dewrong said, “What about him? He got bested by a Drelve! He’s just carrion. Do you want to carry him back to camp, Norgle?”

Tummus, Farong, Fluggle, and Dewrong shared a laugh. Norgle growled under his breath. Only Xenn saw the movement in the dark waters of the Ornash. Farong and Fluggle threw their axes over their backs and picked up the struggling Spellweaver. A dark form silently moved across the water.

Norgle screamed, “It’s the river spirit! I knew we were too close to the river!”

Dewrong said, “Fool. It’s just some sort of black horse. Soon it’ll be food for the Hippogriffs.”

Fluggle dropped Xenn and said, “I’m not so sure Boss! It was walking on the water!”

A lumbering giant kicked a loose stone. The stone flew across the corridor and struck Ubough’s finely made tunic. The giant’s keen senses detected the soft sound. The beast towered thrice Ubough’s height, grasped an ugly thick broad blade, turned its hideous head rapidly from side to side, and sniffed the corridor’s stale air. Perhaps the stench of the flowing ichors of the giant’s wounded comrades covered Ubough’s scent. Ubough clutched the black rod. The giant detected him and menacingly advanced. There was nothing for it. Ubough extended the black rod and uttered “frank land pierce,” the phrase imbedded in his memory but never before spoken. The darkness of the corridor obscured most of the Death Spell’s aura. The giant’s heart stopped and the hulking creature fell. Ubough moved quickly ahead. Lightchangers augmented his vision and he detected an opening in the opposite side of the twenty paces wide hallway. The corridor was at least the height of four Vydaelians stacked atop one another… a little taller than the giants.

Ubough rushed past the large body of the fallen giant and heard movement ahead. Quickly he dashed into the opening. Overwhelming stench disgusted him. Three giants dashed past him. Ubough was in a twenty-by-twenty pace chamber, which was evidently a storage area for the carcasses of victims of the giants that had not yet graced the big beasts’ tables.

The three giants rushed to their fallen comrade. The most adorned of the three quickly turned and rushed to the opening of Ubough’s hiding place. The Vydaelian squeezed between the carcass of a cave deer and a partially eaten stone eel. Convinced the grotto was clear of enemies, the massive beast returned to his mates.

Ubough clutched the rod, which was more and more a lifeline with each passing moment and concentrated. The rod emitted an imperceptible black mauve aura and activated Comprehend Languages. Ubough now understood the giants’ guttural language.

 

 

Redness cleared. A Drelvish female sat upon a wyvern. The visage duplicated a mural on the wall of the second geodesic dome in Vydaelia. The she-Drelve in the mural played an important role in the early history of Vydaelia. In his dream, Ubough looked upon an image from Vydaelia’s past. The she-Drelve spoke, “Do you have any a** left? You took a rather nasty rebuking.”

Ubough said, “I broke the rules. I had it coming. What does my derriere have to do with anything? I know your face but not your name. Who are you?”

Kirrie said, “I’m another piece of your First Wandmaker’s past. Remember well what I’m going to tell you.”

Ubough muttered, “The Chronicles of Vydaelia mention Dreamraiders. Everyone knows the Wandmaker’s dream. Long ago the Good Witch saved Vydaelia from a triskaidekapod and Giant Amebus. Are you the Good Witch? I’m only the Wandmaker Fradee’s assistant, and I’ve fallen from grace. Why do you invade my dreams?”

Kirrie spoke, “I followed your first Wandmaker’s path. We walked together in the light of the three suns and shared many childhood memories, including the Lone Oak, Invisimoss, Sergeant Major Rumsie, cleaning boots, and Tree Herder Old Yellow. Fire Magick touched us. Our people rejected us. The patriarch of Green Vale and caretaker of the Thirttene Friends the Tree Shepherd deems us Fire Wizards. I have killed more Drolls and Carcharians than Yannuvia.”

Three travelers departed Sagain and in the span of a few heartbeats arrived in the wilds of the primitive world. A fleeting bright light appeared in the night sky. The Limited Wish protected Old Clysis through the journey. “It is my wish that the Room of Sorcery and all its living, non-living, and Magick contents be sent to a world away from Sagain that has a familiar, habitable, and unthreatened environment and all living inhabitants of the Room of Sorcery arrive in the new world unharmed by the journey.” Clysis, Morlecainen, and their stowaway survived the journey. However, when the Room of Sorcery settled at its destination, the old Dark Sorcerer succumbed from the strain of casting the Seventh and Ninth Level Spells. Quirk of Magick… Undaunted, Morlecainen tentatively opened the door and peered out onto marshy swampland. The young stowaway sorcerer remained invisible and carried the spell book of his father and wore his father’s robe. The lad helped himself to some of the large quantity of material spell ingredients in the Room of Wizardry. Innumerable pockets in the Robe of Sagain stored all he wanted. Many sounds and smells saturated the area and aided the Invisibility Spell in keeping him undetected. He slipped past Morlecainen and stepped outside. Quirks of fate and Magick brought many of Sagain’s greatest treasures reached the primitive world Donothor. Light Sorceress Knarra of the Eight carried the storied staff Alcyone. Young Prismatic Dragon Taekora escaped Sagain with the great sword Exeter, the crowning achievement of an ancient Dwarfish swordsmith Roswell Kirkey. Exeter appeared as a well-made longsword, with a hilt formed of a reddish black material and a golden blade. The hilt of the weapon retained the reddish color. No runes appeared upon the weapon and no gems adorned the hilt.  Exeter’s beauty was in her simplicity. Elderly Clysis, Morlecainen, and the stowaway son of the slain Light Sorcerer Kreuseul brought in the Room of Wizardry the Orb of Dark Knowledge, Tome of Translocation, the hidden Elixirs of the Mastery of Magick, Staff of the West Wind, Staff Pleione, robes of Sagain, and Staff Maia of the Seven Sisters.