Team of Fellows (Solo)

[Ganlon Martel]

The night was so thick with darkness that he could wade in it like water. The stillness of the air covered him like a blanket. There was no sound. The coldness of the air was evident by the twin spirals of smoke that came from his nose.

Then there was the creak of a leather strap and the jingle of spur. Shapes moved in the darkness. They crept in serpentine around trees and moved over bumps and dips together, as one, touching another. One armored figure just behind another. The sounds were gone again.

He hugged the tree he was next to. It would stop a stray arrow or a bolt from one of the Mages inside. At least he hoped it would.

This was “Blow” number three and he was more paralyzed with fear that the first two. The others had been just after dusk when the sun’s descending shadows had hidden the, Team of Fellows, in their approach.

Peter Langford had told him that night was the much preferred method of catching the prey off guard. Very little was awake at four past the midnight candle and so it was better, safer this way.

Still Ganlon’s fear was so real he could taste it. He knew that he had all of his normal fear reactions, sick stomach, fast breathing, and he seemed to lose track of all time. Realizing that he was afraid didn't make it easier it just made him question why he didn't just leave.

Just as always they had left him with the wagon. There was no horse. Horses made noise when you did want them too and that would just not do. So the Team of Fellows pulled it. The Team of fellows, seven of the most amazing people he had ever seen. Ganlon wondered how he got here. His mind wandered to when he had met Peter Langford again.
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“I would be suggesting that you drop that poker mister.” The small mustached man raised a meat cleaver.

“You don’t want to be having a split head over one bag of gold and a poker do you? “ The second of the Brigands raised a cudgel. He attempted to move past the armored mans side.

“These two don’t talk to play mister. Its time to give now.” The third brigand stood solid with a two handed sword point down on the ground.

The armored man tendered no reply but shifted his feet and his body posture. He looked a coiled spring compared to the three that faced him.

Ganlon had turned the corner onto this street to get away from the noise. The streets of Radasanth were straight and true. Giving Ganlon a straight path to wander and satisfy his curiosity.

The city buildings were food for Ganlon’s curiosity to the point that they made Ganlon forget were he was. The buildings were made with the sturdiness of the dwarves, they held a touch of elven grace, and yet they didn’t drive Ganlon crazy with the scrollwork that made it hard to find a door.

The walking had led him from the main parts of the city way down past the living quarters to the farthest south part of the city where the poor lived. Hawkers still sold their wares here. People still squabbled, and loved, and just because they were poor didn’t mean that life didn’t continue.

Ganlon did find his heart twisted and pulled on more than one occasion. He watched the sick and lame drag themselves through the dirt of the city. Water didn’t seem to be able to wash the dirt off of some of the crowd that lay here.

In one case a flap had been lifted away from the opening of a poorly constructed hovel that had been set up on a street. He could smell the poison of infection. He glanced and saw a family gathered in a room the size of large shipping crate. They sat one atop each other. The food they had in the room was spoiled and the flies buzzed on the young babies faces.

He had all he could do to not stop and minister to the sick. Something drove him on. It was a force like a spell cast upon his feet. He needed to keep walking and so he did.

The chanting yell of the Hakers; with their wares of the left-over’s daily catch, and the smells of cooking food mixed with the offal that was left by the denizens of this section of the city drove him to turn the corner. The noise and crush of the people was too much.

“Whoa, wrong way.” Ganlon said as he stumbled upon the stand off.

“Ganlon?” The Armored man said just as Ganlon saw that it was Peter Langford.

That was the breaking point for the stand off. The cleaver fell with a loud thunk into the flesh of Peter Langford. The cleaver fell into his left shoulder. Ganlon fumbled with the sword at his side as the cudgel swung past his head. Amazingly Peter still had some poise left in him and cleanly ran the mustached man through.

“Run Ganlon, this is not your fight.” Peter said through clenched teeth. But Ganlon didn’t have time to run as the cudgel came for a second try. Ganlon tried to pull the sword from the scabbard again, tripped over his own feet and fell back wards. The cudgel swung wide as the sword came free from its home and Ganlon landed on his ass.

The Mustached man let out one last breath in a long sigh that sounded like a deflating balloon. Ganlon could feel the pain from the man just as he also felt the light was his life exit his body. The man crumpled to the street in a way that looked more like a pile of rags than a person.

“You zalling killed him. You gonna be dead mister.” The two handed sword was raised from its place on the ground. Ganlon felt like for just a moment everything froze.

He could see the blood dripping down Peter’s shoulder. He could hear it drip and strike the pavement with a wet splatter. He could feel a fire of pain that was Peter’s shoulder.

The blood from the mustached man had stopped with his heart but it ran down the pavement towards the drain in the street. He smelled the adrenaline fueled focus of each of the combatants that came through their sweat.

A drop of sweat fell off of the owner of the two handed sword and hit the pavement and Ganlon’s spell was broken. It seemed as if that one drop echoed off of every wall, stone, and window.

It was in that moment he remembered that cudgel's owner was still trying to kill him. He raised his own sword in time to catch the blow that came towards his face.

His hands instantly stung where he had gripped he pommel of the weapon and it felt as if the blow had rung all the way up his arms. He pushed himself back on one arm and raised himself to one foot and his knee.

Peter’s luck was still true and the owner of the two handed sword over extended himself with a swing. With twist of his wrist and quick turn of his fingers Peter cut the man’s throat and the two handed sword fell on to the pavement with a loud clang. The owner fell to two knees. His eyes looked at Peter and Ganlon felt the light go out of the man.

Ganlon’s own predicament had not changed and the cudgel came forward with a swing. The Goddess herself must be watching today because the laws of probability went against the odds that he would miss again. The cudgel swung past Ganlon’s face and struck the wall.

Ganlon did wait for providence to provide him a more glaring chance. He stepped forward with his front foot and from his elbow pushed the sword tip towards the man’s center. He felt the sword run true and the smallest amount of resistance was met as it slid past his opponent’s clothes through his skin and into his hollow organs.

Ganlon looked at the man for a moment. There was a man on the end of his sword. His eyes still looked determined for a split second and then Ganlon watched the light of the man flee. He withdrew his sword.

“Ganlon?” Ganlon couldn’t move. He didn’t know if he wanted to move.

“Ganlon, come on buddy I know you can hear me. We need to go.” Peter had placed his sword back into his scabbard and was holding his arm.

Ganlon’s sense of time returned, it had happened in seconds. The Hawkers were still yelling about the same left-over daily catch. That frightened Ganlon almost as much as seeing three dead brigands in the street.

Ganlon’s hands were shaking and his breath still came in short spurts but he was able to control himself enough to see the wound on Peter’s shoulder.

“Let me see your arm.” Ganlon reached for the wound on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter shied away. Ganlon cleared his mind. He reached deep into his own head with his thoughts. He looked for the doorway. That hatch between the darkness and the light he had in his head. He opened the door.

“Ganlon, I know your Dad was a healer but we can fix it when we are far away from here.” Peter started to walk back towards the Hawkers.

Ganlon grabbed Peter’s shoulder, “ouch what the zall.” Peter said and then the light came from Ganlon’s hand into Peter’s shoulder.

Ganlon focused the light from his head down his arm, past his elbow. He focused it over his wrists and past his fingers into Peter’s body. He followed Peter’s skin until it reached the tear where the cleaver had rent his flesh.

There was an instant change in the features of Peter’s face. He went from grimacing with pain to a sense of relief. Slowly the wound closed itself. Ganlon focused the light on the muscles willing them to knit together. The flesh bound together like an invisible seamstress was sewing. The skin closed and Ganlon let go of Peter.

“Ok, Bud, you... that... it was amazing. I know your Dad didn’t teach you that.” Peter grabbed Ganlon’s hand in his own and turned to look in the other man's eyes.

“No he didn’t. By the way you look like dog dung.” Ganlon smiled at Peter.

“Same old, rolly, polly, always talking out of the corner of his mouth Ganlon. This”, Peter pointed at his shoulder, “this still doesn’t change anything. We still need to get out of here. I am not supposed to be here right now.” Peter started to walk again towards the Hawkers.

“Come on Bud. You look like you could use a drink and I am buying.” Ganlon fell in behind Peter.

“Why can’t you be here?” Ganlon caught up to the Peter.

“Look, not here. There’s this place around the corner, we will talk there. Just hold yourself until then.”

Ganlon would never forget the talk they had there. It was why he was standing in the dark now and why he was cold and freezing. Radasanth was a city his father always told him to stay out of and now he knew why.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon could just barely make out the shapes moving in the darkness. They were still in serpentine moving more in a straight line now. They still stayed tight together one touching another.

They were in the Concordia forest. This was forest was Ganlon’s home. He believed it to be the most magnificent forest in the world. They were in the Evergreens and the tree that Ganlon hugged was one of these. He could smell the pine sap and feel the soft crush of needles under his feet.

The “Blow” was a Mage. He owed a debt and the Fellows had come to collect him for repayment. Ganlon was sure that the place that Mage had picked to hold up in was older than the forest. The stones didn’t resemble anything that Ganlon had seen come from the ground when he was plowing his field. Young trees had grown sideways from the cracks of the stones and moss had slowly digested the stone in spots.

Empty windows on the second floor showed the sway of shadows from the fire within the walls of the Ruin. The Mage had put a roof on the structure. He had added a new gate and wooden windows on the first floor.

Ganlon tried to guess what this place had originally been. It was approximately the size of a small tavern by today’s standard. This ruin had stood the tests of time better than any of the others that Ganlon had seen as a kid. There were quite a few in these forests and Ganlon had explored them. Most held nothing. Some held arrow heads or broken pots.

The first of the Fellows reached the door. He held a fist high in the air. The rest of the fellows stopped. The first fellow who Ganlon knew to be Peter showed two fingers and pointed behind him. The rest of the Fellows lined up behind one another on the wall of the Ruin.
The Second Fellow pushed his shoulder into the first Fellow in line. He raised a large metal bar and swung it towards the door. Ganlon remembered this Fellow. This was the first fellow that Ganlon had met.
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Ganlon followed Peter as he had moved past the doorways and hovels of the south corridor. Ganlon had forgotten how red Peter Langford's hair was. It was a flash of fire beneath his green hat. He was not tall, he was not short, Peter Langford was your average sized man; except when you looked at his legs and arms. The man was built like the trunk of the tree and Ganlon could make out every muscle.

They walked until they made it down a long row of houses one on top of each other and came out to a open square.

The wind blew up from the river and smoke from the forge that was in the main building blew into Ganlon’s face. A rather large fellow, burly, and covered with scars banged his hammer on a horse shoe that was on the anvil.

The Smith raised his pliers to the two of them as the approached. Peter waved back with an open hand.

“Gasteau has no tongue, so don’t expect him to talk to you with words.” Peter said as he moved towards the door of what Ganlon now saw was a livery.

Peter’s statement made Ganlon stutter step and he tripped on his feet and the cobble stones. A guttural sound emitted from the Smith. It took a second but Ganlon realized he was being laughed at. The laughter brought out the Smith's chest and Ganlon saw that he was bull of a man. One's whos work on the anvil had developed his arms and chest. The scars were evident on his arms and hands. Ganlon was sure that he could smell the sweat that came from him as he returned to the anvil.

The door to the livery opened and Peter moved into the room on the other side with a flourish. Ganlon could hear him say,
“Well that was a classic cluster.”

Ganlon stopped just before the door. He took stock of his surroundings. On the outside of this building a façade of a Livery was apparent. Horses were corralled in a gate attached to the building and there were bags of feed lying around.

Closer inspection however led Ganlon to see that there were things like murder-hole slots in the ceiling of the section that jutted out into the square. Arrow slots had been cut in convenient places to defend the corners of the building.

Finally Ganlon saw him, one lone figure lying prone on the roof, looking into the square. He looked like a gargoyle down spout. When Ganlon looked hard at him the Gargoyle winked. The man wore all grey and his face was painted to match.

Ganlon stepped into the smoke filled room of the livery. Tobacco smoke filled his nostrils at first and then was over powered by the smell of metal and men. Armor, Swords, and weapons of every sort were stacked and piled through the room. What did Ganlon get himself into?

[Ganlon Martel]

Now the anxiety really kicked in. Ganlon started to realize that the symptoms, like his racing heart and deep breathing were his body telling him to get ready to fight or to run away. Run away wasn’t an option so he needed to fight. In Ganlon’s case this was standing still. Ganlon was sure this was worse than running or fighting.

The moon broke through the clouds of the dark night and shafts of light broke through the tree cover into the woods in a light show. The Team of Fellows wore all black over their leather and chain armor. They still disappeared to the shadows of the side of the ruin.

The Second Fellow in line, Gasteau, swung the metal bar and struck the gate with a resounding crash and rending of wood. The gate swung inward. Ganlon could feel the building energy in the air and saw the third in line begin to wave her hands.

Peter had said that the Mage had a least fifteen soldiers in the building and they had only come with seven, well eight if you counted Ganlon. It was necessary for them to completely stun the opposing forces to take the Mage alive. Peter said the rest of the soldiers were what Peter called, “Inconsequential bud.”

Ganlon remembered the third in line as well as the second. She was the only female in the fellows. Her hands moved. In the room just on the other side of the gate an explosion happened. Light and noise erupted from the open gate. Ganlon knew it was just that, noise and light and nothing more. The first of the Team of Fellows went through the door.
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“Well that was a classic cluster.” Peter Langford said.

“Oh yeah, what happened?” a voice called from the corner of the smoke filled room. The speaker sat with her feet propped up one of the crates with boards on them that were serving as tables. She was in an actual chair; however, it didn’t fit the décor of the room. It looked to be stolen from a church. She picked under her nails with a dagger.

The woman who sat in the chair was beautiful. She was the kind of woman that Ganlon dreamed of being with. In Ganlon's mind he wanted to be with her more like he wanted to own her. He wanted her to be his. Her long black hair and piercing blue eyes off set by her ripe red lips made Ganlon remeber that he was a man. She was thin, but every curve was where it needed to be in Ganlon's mind.

Ganlon deliberatly pulled himself away and surveyed the room again; armor, swords, and weapons of every sort were stacked and piled through the room. There were three men and the speaker, one woman, in the room. Two of the men smoked pipes and were looking over a book of some sort.

Ganlon saw that they were exact copies of each other, down to the pipes that they smoked. Black hair on both of them was cut down to the thin layer of fuzz. Both had green eyes and a crooked smile that moved to the left side of both of their mouths. Twins, then Ganlon thought to himself. The third lay with his head propped into a corner sound asleep. He was smaller and much thinner than Ganlon and looked to have a weapon on every square inch of his body. His face was scarred with the pox of childhood disease and he had the look of a rat. Long nose and full mouth made Ganlon think of the creatures that used to eat the flour and corn in his barn.

“They must of spotted me…” Peter’s speech was stopped by the woman’s chair legs hitting the floor.

“Who or what is that?” She demanded and pointed the tip of her dagger at Ganlon. Peter laughed out loud.

“That is a Ganlon.” Peter waved towards Ganlon with the tip of his sword as he pulled it from his scabbard.
He began wiping it with a towel from one of the tables.

“Ganlon, that is Madeline Defabry. Ganlon shut the door would you?” Peter plopped down onto a stool. Ganlon turned and shut the door. Ganlon noticed that all of the windows were made of unrefined glass. It allowed light into the room but kept out prying eyes.

“Ganlon, huh? You look like a pregnant sow playing dress up. How old is that chain mail, like fifty years old? Peter where did you get this guy?” Madeline started to put her feet back on the table.

“He’s gonna be our new healer.” Peter stated, as if it were a matter of fact. Ganlon spun to look at Peter.

“Whaa, Whaa, WHAT?” Ganlon asked. Madeline stood and started to walk around Ganlon looking him up and down. The Twins had stopped looking at their book and the Fellow in the corner was awake looking at Ganlon.

“He doesn’t look like he has any inch of military time to him.” Madeline poked him in the arm with the point of the dagger she had just been cleaning her nails with.

“What about it Ganlon, do any military service?” Peter looked Ganlon in the eye. Ganlon tried to push Madeline’s dagger away from his arm and missed.

“No, but that’s not the point…” Peter cut him off with a way of his hand,

“He dispatched one of the look outs at the next blow with that sword at his side and look at this.” Peter lowered his shoulder where a very obvious rent of the leather and chain armor could be seen.

“Closed it up like he sewed it with thread, yep, he’s our new healer. I got him the same way I got my Mage,” Peter pointed at Madeline, “lady luck just drops them in my lap.” Peter pulled the rent shirt over his head and off.

“Hold on just a second. We got to talk.” Ganlon said.

“Oh, yeah, we’ll talk. I got give you all of the rules now that you have been here. Otherwise, if you talk I’ll have the twins kill you.” Peter said with a flat affect. Ganlon knew he was serious. Peter put on a new mail shirt.

“Come on, Sow,” Madeline stated, ”you’re gonna love it here.”

[Ganlon Martel]

Peter Langford led the Team of Fellows through the door. Each of them drew a sword as they went. The line was flawless, perfect as they filed through the door. Ganlon could hear the crash of metal on metal as the last of them went through the door.

He knew his job. He swallowed hard and moved forward to do rear guard duty at the doorway. Ganlon wore the same black hooded cloak over chain and leather armor. It was Peter’s trademark armor. Rings of metal sewn on to a leather shirt. It was just enough to keep a sword from going straight through the leather; quiet enough for movement.

Ganlon had always kept his hair short and now it was chopped down to his scalp. He had his father’s helmet on and he drew forth his sword. His shield was on his arm draped in black sack cloth. Peter told him to leave it behind every time. Ganlon didn’t know how to fight with out and could bring himself to leave it behind.

He made a light sprint for the gate and stopped just before it. He turned with his back to the ruin and leaned up against the building looking out at the woods.

The noises inside had become more intense. The crash of wood was followed by the scream of a man in pain. Metal clashed with metal and a flash of fire light splayed out of the gateway on to the forest floor. He could smell the death now. There was nothing more distinct in Ganlon’s memory that the scent of a man’s open bowels. Fecal mater mixing with acid from their stomach and their life blood had an iron smell that reminded him of rotten food.

“Healer, up, Healer Up,” there was an instant of panic. Then Ganlon’s fear totally went away. His mind went to work. He knew that he was needed and that drove him towards the sound. Ganlon stepped through the gateway of the ruin and into a bloody mess. One of the Twins held the other,
“Healer, fix my brother, fix him now.”
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“Okay,” said Peter, “so you have met Gasteau, and Madeline. You know me. Of course you know me; we practically drank milk from the same tit. No disrespect to your mother, bud. She was a great woman. I know you don’t remember much of her, but saucy. Wow your mother was one saucy woman. Damn, your Father was a lucky man. ”

Ganlon kind of hoped Peter would keep talking about his mother. He didn’t have very many memories of her and even the slightly off color discussion of his mother piqued his curiosity. Peter was older than Ganlon by ten years and his father had used him on many occasions as a field hand, until he had been drafted in to local service for the army.

“Now I’ll introduce you to the twins. This is Luc, and Marc. Two of the best GD but kickers you will ever find Bud. Found them keeping a bar from erupting. The two of them fought eight men back to back until the Twins were all that was left standing. Lady Luck graced me again with the fortune of being in the bar at the time.”

The Twins nodded as one as Ganlon raised a hand to them. The Twins weren’t overly large and Ganlon questioned their fighting skills in his head. As Ganlon followed Peter towards the back of the Livery he noticed that one of the twins had a scar on his cheek just barely visible below his eye. The other’s nose was a little crooked. They were fighters and they weren't perfect matches.

“This is Randolph. He is our resident fixer. What’s a fixer you ask? Have a problem with someone Randolph fixes it, permanent. ” Peter laughed at his own joke. The small man or a least what Ganlon thought was a small man opened his eyes and nodded at him.

“Hey, Healer, I got this problem. “ The small man rose from his chair. Ganlon stopped eager to help.

"Yes?" Ganlon felt out of sorts. He yearned for acceptance from these men. He had never been a tough guy. He had watched soldiers come and go through the village. He had always dreamt of being the returning Hero. He wanted no, he needed these men to be his friends even if the friendship was forced onto him by Peter.

“You see I got this pain.” Randolph sounded sincere, like he truly had a pain. Randolph pulled down his pants and waved his genitals at Ganlon. “The pain is right here. Can you fix it?” Randolph turned and waved his bare ass at Ganlon. The Twins burst into laughter as Randolph looked over his shoulder at Ganlon with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, healer, Randolph has a pain in his ass can you fix it?” Luc said and laughed again.

Madeline had covered her eyes and from the corner she said, “You all are a group of full grown two year olds you know that, two year olds.“
Ganlon felt his face burnt with anger and frustration. His customary smile was gone.

“Come on Ganlon that’s just their way of saying hello.” Peter smiled at the group and grabbed Ganlon by the shoulder to lead him.

They went through a door and into a small room. Unlike the outside room this one was filled with actual furniture that matched. A desk that looked of Mahogany was in the center of the room covered with paperwork. The chair behind the desk was also of Mahogany and covered in red velvet. Peter sat down into it with a sigh. Ganlon looked around the room with an questioning eye before sitting in the small chair on the door side of the desk.

The room’s walls were covered with paintings. There were paintings of Peter in his armor. There were paintings of the Twins and Madeline. None of the paintings were very good at all. The features of the people in the paintings were crooked and canted. To Ganlon the paintings looked almost as if a child had done them.

“Like my paintings? It’s my down time passion. I hope to sell them if I ever get the chance to stop working.” Peter looked down at his desk and moved some paperwork around. Ganlon just held his tongue on paintings.

“Peter, what am I doing here?” Ganlon asked placing his hand on the desk. Peter looked up at him and sat back
.
“Ganlon, You remember when I left right?” Ganlon nodded.

“Well I did my time in the military. I found out that I liked fighting. I liked the thrill of the moment before a fight. What I didn’t like were the idiot bosses. Some minor Nobles son became a Lieutenant because he was born to a house that had fought well two hundred years ago.“

Ganlon started to talk but Peter held up his hand,

“Let me get this out. It will clear up what I need you for. The Civil wars showed me further that the fighting wasn’t always as noble as I had hoped in my youth. The games of war we fought as children were not what happens out there in the dark.“ Peter’s eyes looked distant for a moment.

Ganlon didn’t recognize the man in that instant. His face was troubled and the creases that came with age were evident in his skin.

“I did my time. I didn’t ditch my responsibilities, but as soon as I could I left the service of Corone. I did some work freelance. Traveled from place to place looking for my place, my current employer found me the same way I found all of the others you see outside. I was fighting in a tavern, a common bouncer when he walked in. “

Peter stood and walked over to a Sideboard in the room. He opened it and took out a cup and glass decanter. Ganlon had seen glass like this before. It was from Fallien. It was worth more money than Ganlon could have made in a year at the farm. What was it that Peter was doing? Ganlon’s curiosity was piqued. He still had the feeling that he should go.

Peter poured a clear liquid into the cup. He offered the cup to Ganlon. Ganlon refused. Ganlon wanted to hear all of this with a clear head.

“I still don’t see what this had to do with me. I healed you because you were hurt. I would heal you if you were a stranger. The Goddess gave me a gift to share with all. It was nice to see you Peter, but I am going to go now." Ganlon stood to leave.

“Sit down Ganlon. “ Peter’s glare was enough to force Ganlon to sit.

“Ganlon, I need you and from the look of your clothes you need me. Those clothes you are wearing are torn. You are dirty and you forget I know you. Right now your curiosity is driving you mad. You are dying to know what I am doing.” Peter smiled at Ganlon as he sat on the edge of the desk facing Ganlon.

“I work for a group of people. These people do favors for other people and in return they demand payment. When those people don’t pay up I bring them in to my bosses. This is a dangerous job. My bosses want these people alive when I get them. In a fight stopping just short of killing an opponent can be a hard thing when these people are fighting for their lives. We call the person who is wanted a “blow”. We call them this because usually we “blow” the door off of their house with a metal bar.” Peter stopped to take a drink of the liquid and he made grimace as the liquid went down his throat.

“My last healer was stupid. He thought he was a soldier first and a healer second. This choice killed him when he went through the door on a “blow”. Ganlon, I can pay you and give you a place to stay. My bosses can give you protection from what ever drove you from your farm and as an old friend I am offering you a place with me.“ Peter went back to the Sideboard and poured another cup.

“Finally, you don’t really have a choice. You have seen the Livery. Once you’re here you are in or you are dead. I love your family like it was my own and I really don’t want you dead.“ Peter handed Ganlon the cup. Ganlon drank the clear liquid down and felt it burn all the way down to his stomach. He had a feeling the sickness in his stomach was more than just the liquid.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon looked around the room.

“Holy Zall.” He felt words escape his lips. Randolph was on top of a guard in blue and yellow tabard. The front of the tabard held a cup that resembled Ganlon’s chalice. Ganlon looked at the tabard hard. The stitching of the Tabard resembled Ganlon’s chalice but there was a chip in Ganlon’s chalice that wasn’t on the stitching.

Randolph stabbed the guard and then stabbed him again. He stabbed him a third time and Ganlon heard the wet slurping sounds as the dagger came loose from the man. The last pull took what Ganlon guessed was the liver through the hole.

There were bodies every where. The room was not at all what Ganlon had expected. It was an open space and bunks lined every wall. It looked to be the size of the entire first floor. It seemed to swallow any light like a the black sackcloth the fellows wore. The walls were the rough hewn stone of the outside wall.

Every wall had a sconce with a torch in it but the light from the torches only help to make the shadows of the room come to life and dance. A great fire place was on the far wall. The fire had banked down and it lay like a slumbering red dragon in the hearth spitting embers as air moved down the chimney. There were four tables but only one of them still stood. None of the chairs that accompanied the tables were standing and two of the four tables were smashed to the point of never being used again. The room smelled of fire, feeces, and the acid iron bloody smell of death.

On the wall to Ganlon’s right the man Ganlon knew as Keloge, the gray gargoyle, was on one knee. There was an out cropping of the stone from the wall and Ganlon realized that it was a stairway. Keloge was kneeling at the door way to the stairwell.

“Peter, I have disabled the trap on this door, and freed the locking mechanism; however, what holds this door shut is not metal or wood. “ Keloge had a very distinct way of talking. Slow and methodical was everything that Keloge was. Peter claimed that Keloge was a master thief. Ganlon had never heard Keloge call himself anything but a bee.

Keloge said he was just a worker bee. He claimed he was just one of the bees in the hive providing honey for the rest of the bees. He also often talked about the balance of life and how every thing in this existence was measured on a scale for this balance by the Gods.

Keloge said that the scale was tipped too far to the left leaving to many of the people with out the necessary items to live. Keloge said it was part of the great cycle that he returned some of these to the people.

“Zall, come on Bud, give me a little more than that. What kind of bull is that Keloge? The blasted “blow” is on the other side of that door." Ganlon saw Peter. He stood in the middle of the room. His hands on his hips, his face a grimance of pain and annoyance. A cross bow bolt protruded from his left leg.

Gasteau and Madeline walked the room. There were twenty or so soldiers lying on the floor of the room. They walked the room swords drawn and every time one of the soldiers moaned they dispatched them with a quick stroke.

“Ganlon get over here.” Peter yelled from his spot in the room. Peter grabbed the bolt on his leg realizing that Ganlon had entered the room.

“What the hell happened Peter? You said there were fifteen soldiers in here. This is a least Twenty. Does that hurt?” Ganlon walked to stand by Peter.

“Yeah Bud, and a least another ten went through that door. Yes it hurts.“ Peter pointed towards Keloge. Keloge nodded towards Ganlon. Ganlon knelt to look at Peter's wound.

“Yo! Pregnant sow!” The voice made Ganlon remember the Twins and he spun towards them. Ganlon looked and realized that it was Marc who held Luc. Ganlon moved to where they were.

Ganlon knelt on his left knee by Luc. Ganlon bit the inside of his cheek. Luc was close to death. Marc probably realized this on some level but his eyes pleaded with Ganlon.

“Fix him healer. Fix him NOW!” Marc grabbed Ganlon’s arm. Ganlon looked at Luc’s wound. Luc's throat had been split. Ganlon could see the spinal cord on the other side of the wound. Luc’s breathing came in wet spurts through what was left of his airway.

“Marc,” Ganlon began, “Luc is on his way to the Goddess now. His light is failing. I don’t think I can heal him.”

“Zalling fix him healer, or I will you will never fix anyone again.” Marc laid Luc’s head on the floor. He stood and looked down at Ganlon. His hand rested on his sword hilt.

“Peter, I believe that this door is Madeline’s issue now. I will not be able to remove the magic that holds it.” Keloge moved from his spot to stand behind Ganlon. Randolph stood from the guard and moved to Ganlon’s right side. Madeline stopped where she was and watched. Gasteau made his way to behind Marc. His sword turned and poised in the beginning of a cross wrist slash.

“Will you fix him Ganlon? Or shall I help Marc fix you?” Randolph asked with a grin on his face. Ganlon didn’t move a muscle.

“Perhaps you Marc, and you Randolph, should consider that this is part of the universe’s plan to restore balance. Ganlon’s ability may not be the question here but the question may be what is the universe’s greater plan” Keloge’s sword swung into a poised stance for defense above his head.

Madeline moved towards the stairway slowly watching the rest of the fellows. Her hands were moving in a dance that was the beginning movement of a spell. Ganlon looked around at the Team of Fellows. Here it was the defining moment and he questioned what he should do. He could try to heal Luc. Even if it worked he knew the amount of energy he used would leave him weak and vulnerable. He would not be able to complete the "blow" if he did this.

The Team needed to move and Ganlon knew that there was more to do. Goddess lead me now.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon felt Keloge’s hand on his shoulder.

“The balance must be maintained my friend. If it is Luc’s time to depart than he will go no matter what you try to do for him. Do what you feel inside. I will be with you.”

“Shut up, Thief, enough with your philosophical bull. He is a healer that’s the reason he is here. So healer, heal.” Randolph was getting edgy. Ganlon could see that this was going badly.

Gasteau moved away from Marc and stood not far from the rest of the group. He shook his silent head back and forth with a grin across his mouth.

Ganlon felt the friendship that he had made with Keloge fill him. He needed to prove himself to this group. He had felt the need from the beginning. Keloge really was the only one who had accepted him and let him into his own personal space other than Peter.

The first and second “Blow” had gone off without Ganlon having to do much of anything but stand there and look pretty. The Team of Fellows with the exception of Keloge had said as much to him. None of the fellows had been hurt. There was always some one else who was hut though.

Ganlon remembered the Fellows after the second, “Blow”.
__________________________________________________ __________

“Now that is what I am talking about.” Marc banged is head into his brother’s back. “Did you see that little dude’s head come off?”
Marc was referring to the point when his swing had severed a Dwarf’s head from his body. The blood had shot like a fountainhead up into the air until the Dwarf’s heart stopped.

“That was beautiful. The blood got all over the woman sitting at the table. I thought she was going to have a seizure. She couldn’t move. I love it.” Luc banged his head back into his brother.

The two of them stood at the wagon. They used towels stored in the back to wipe the blood from their swords and armor. The “Blow”, a Dwarf, was lying in the back of wagon. His hands and feet were bound. A gag covered his mouth. He struggled against his bindings and squirmed like a fish out of water.
Peter approached the wagon with Keloge and Randolph, “Keloge found the hammer that we needed. Madeline and Gasteau are setting the place on fire to cover the mess up. They will leave our mark. “

Randolph poked the Dwarf with his sword, “Should have paid your bills, stupid.” Randolph laughed out loud and began poking the Dwarf in multiple places with his sword to see how much he could make him squirm. One of the pokes went to hard and the Dwarf began to bleed heavily.

“Piss and water, Randolph, what are you thinking, Bud? This is merchandise. If it is dead when we show up with it none of us get paid." Peter pushed Randolph away from the Dwarf.

"Ganlon, fix him. You don’t have to make him perfect just make it stop bleeding.“ Peter pushed Randolph away from the Dwarf. He then wrapped the Hammer in his hand up with a black bag and placed it under seat of the wagon.

Ganlon looked at the Dwarf. His eyes pleaded with Ganlon. The fear behind those eyes was apparent to Ganlon. Ganlon swallowed hard. He had to move past his own desire to let the Dwarf up and to let him just run away.

Ganlon still didn’t really know what these people had done to deserve the Team of Fellows blowing the doors off of their houses. He felt his curiosity getting the better of him again and he poked Peter with his finger.

“Why are we taking this guy in? Small, stupid, and now bleeding, but he doesn’t look like much to me. He had a family in there.”

“Ganlon, he didn’t pay. That’s all that matters and this is just a job. He shouldn’t have agreed to the deal if he didn’t want to pay. Fix him.” Peter was cleaning his sword and armor.

Ganlon ripped away the shirt from the Dwarf in the place where Randolph’s sword had rent the Dwarf's side. Ganlon looked at the wound. Before the Goddess granted him powers, he would have made a poultice for such a wound. Ganlon reached into his pouch and drew forth such a poultice now.

It had Puffball Mushrooms, common yarrow, Carrot, and Garlic in it. The mixture would cause the swelling to go down, stop the bleeding, and keep out infection. He didn't think that the Dwarf had to worry much longer about infections but he added that part to the poultice anyway. He placed a swaddle of cloth over the wound and stepped away from the Dwarf.

“Good thing you can do something Healer. Most of the time you just stand around looking pretty.” Marc stated as he placed his sword back into its sheath.

“A pretty pregnant Sow, a big, fat, girl pig is what he stands around looking like. He eats and drinks and breathes but isn’t worth a spit. I wonder if he would be any good to eat.” Luc snapped his teeth at Ganlon.

“Leave it to you to make every thing about food.” Peter said as he looked over his paperwork from the front of the wagon.

“Really, Peter, he has that pig sticker in his sheath at his side but he hasn’t drawn it once. What good is he to us? He takes away from the split of the Blow.” Marc pushed past his brother to Peter’s side.

“He’ll be useful the day that you forget to duck and a pig sticker is in you, Bud.” Peter still hadn’t looked up from his paperwork.

“I’m too good to need a Healer.” Luc said. Marc slapped him in the back of the head.

“Yeah, right, didn’t duck that.” The two of them commenced wrestling on the ground.

Keloge had been watching Ganlon and stepped forward. He drew forth a flask from his belt and handed it to Ganlon.

“You need a drink. Your balance is off. The scales have tipped the wrong way in your life. Come away from these youths.” Keloge walked away from the group to a tree. Ganlon followed.

“I know you. In your mind you believe the balance is off. Eight of us enter into a house and take this one Dwarf away. We cause destruction and death. We wreak havoc and chaos where before there was peace. This is not truth at all. These people have up set the balance of the universe. They ask for things that are outside bigger than they can control, special things that no man should have. They create a chaos through their greed. They make deals for things that change the course of the universe. They upset the balance of things by having too much.” Keloge allowed Ganlon to take a sip of the liquid from the flask. Ganlon felt the warmth of it move down his throat.

“That is a special drink that I acquired on a trip to find balance. Along the way on that trip I learned that I was a bee in the hive. I am a worker bee that moves to keep all of the bees in the universe in line; to make honey for all of the members of the collective hive. The drink is made with the honey from the hive of a special bee in the mountains. It revives the center of your being. Ganlon you too are a worker in the hive. I know you Ganlon; you seek to right a balance you don’t even see yet. “

“Do you always talk like your teaching a lesson?” Ganlon asked as he handed back the Flask. Ganlon's smile lit his face.

“I think that I talk like a friend. I will be your friend if you like Ganlon. I will help you to find your center and find the balance that is in the universe. I know you, even thought you are not young in years your heart is still young.”

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon had made his decision. He reached down to Luc. He grabbed his hand. Ganlon focused on the door in the back of his head. The hatchway that let the light that was kept inside of him was closed and he followed the little shafts of light that he saw with his inner eye to where the handle was. He pulled the door open and let the light flow free.

Madeline had been spinning the beginning of a spell in the moments before Ganlon began his healing. The “knock” spell was not one of her more common spells and it took her longer than usual to get through it. She could really care less about the whole heal Luc thing. If the numbskull had spent more time training and less time running his mouth he would have ducked the sword as they went through the door.

She fought to find the right words from the back of her memory and finally they came like a flood. The words issued from her mouth in a torrent of sound. The flash of magic was visible to her as it intertwined with the magic surrounding the door. The two magics worked together and danced like two lovers until they melded and a click was heard.

Ganlon felt the power of the magic issue forth from Madeline. He heard the click. Then he heard the sound of the men break through the door. He held onto the light and focused down at Luc.

The room became a whirl wind of action. A scream had issued forth from the first of the Soldiers through the door. It ended quite abruptly as a dagger tossed from Randolph’s hand buried itself in the middle of the soldier’s voice box.

Madeline had been surprised by her own efficiency and stumbled backward away from the soldiers. She tripped over a broken chair and found herself seated on one of the bunks. Ganlon watched as she attempted to get her sword free and a soldier ran her through. Blood spurted from her mouth in a spray that covered the soldier. Ganlon lost focus on the door way in his mind and his light went away.

He let go of Luc’s hand and stood. His sword was in his right hand and his shield was in his left. He saw Gasteau blow past his left side and Marc his right. They met with Peter in the middle of room in a clash of steel.

Ganlon started to move forward towards the fight with a shuffle step that was slower than the rest of the room. Randolph and Keloge moved with precise movements toward darkened corners of the room. Ganlon felt the light of Madeline go out a second later as the same soldier finished her with a sword stroke that severed her head. Ganlon felt physically ill.

He stopped and gapped at the headless body of Madeline as it sat down onto the floor. Her head hit the floor and the open eyes looked Ganlon in the face. Madeline’s last expression looked to be one of wonder.

Behind him he felt the light of Luc leave the body. It was then that Ganlon felt something truly strange. The light from the dead soldiers and the Fellows were not going to the otherlife. They were going toward the stairwell. His eyes followed to where the light was flowing.

The light moved in balls of energy. Ganlon felt them leave the bodies. He saw them with his inner eye. They wished to go to the otherlife. Each of the balls of light lifted from the center of the dead. Ganlon watched one soldier in particular after Randolph appeared from a dark shadow and cut his throat.
The soldier fell to the floor and the energy of his body moved from every point of his being till it pooled in the center of his chest. It became a ball of energy, white light, which became a thing of its own. It popped from the soldier’s body as if a pimple had popped on a teen’s face. Then it began a slow move to a doorway like the one in Ganlon’s head. The light wanted to go to the otherlife.

The light couldn’t make it. It was pulled to the stairway.

Ganlon’s curiosity was piqued and he lost track of the room as a whole. A body fell towards him and he mindlessly pushed past it. He followed the balls of light towards where the doorway opened to the stairway.

It was necessary for Marc to deflect a sword swing that was aimed for Ganlon’s head as he move through the room watching the light. Marc fell in next to Ganlon utterly disgusted as he moved.

The fight was over almost as quickly as it had started and Keloge appeared next to Ganlon. The last two of the soldiers retreated into the stairway with whatever or who ever it was that was collecting the Light of Life.

“What do you see, Ganlon?” Keloge moved close to the healer and looked over his shoulder in attempt to see what Ganlon was looking at.

“Something dark and wrong, something totally dark and wrong.” Ganlon took another step towards the stairs.

[Ganlon Martel]

“Ganlon, get your but over here and fix this now.” Peter was now hopping on one foot and blood was oozing from the bolt wound in his leg. Ganlon’s gaze stayed fixed on the stairwell. Gasteau moved into position by the doorway. He stood by the door way watching for more trouble.

Marc ran towards Luc and Randolph appeared from the shadows at Madeline’s body. Randolph stood over Madeline’s body and looked at Peter with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Randolph I have zalling eyes, bud. Ganlon what are you doing? I am waiting!” Peter was shuffling towards Ganlon. Marc had made it to Luc.

“You are dead now healer. You let my brother die. You are so dead.” Marc stood from his brother and began to run to Ganlon. He was stopped in his tracks by a bolo that had appeared around his feet. The throw had come from Keloge. Ganlon had seen none of this action. His attention was completely focused on the stairway.

“GANLON!” Peter shouted at the top of his lungs and glanced at Marc who was now being tied up and gagged by Keloge.

“What Peter?” Ganlon asked distractedly. Peter had made it to Ganlon. Grabbing Ganlon’s face he turned towards him.

“I am bleeding. FIX IT!”Peter pushed Ganlon’s face away. Ganlon took one more look at the stairway and then shook his head.

“Okay, Peter, you do look a little under the weather.” Ganlon smiled.

“Ganlon, I swear to what ever Goddess you believe in that you are touched in the head.” Peter took one of the chairs from the floor and stood it up. He sat down onto it.

“Gasteau you up?”Peter looked at Gasteau. The mute man gave him a thumbs-up sign. Ganlon began by kneeling by Peter’s left leg he looked at where the bolt had pierced the leg mid shaft.

“Randolph you up?” Peter looked towards Randolph and the “fixer” nodded.

“This is truly messed up even for you Peter. The two dead ones mean more money for me right?” Randolph bent over and cleaned his dagger with Madeline’s tunic. Ganlon ripped the black cloth of Peter’s pants up until it reached the wound.

“Keloge you up? “ Peter looked at Keloge. The thief had finished tying up Marc and was now rising to face the others. Just before rising he wiped his dagger on Marc’s shirt.

“There is a true lesson of balance in this Peter. And yes I have no wounds to speak of. Marc appears to have no wounds either and he his completely under control. Let us get this finished and get the “blow”. I am interested to see what it is that has Ganlon so distracted. The scale is tipping right now. ” Keloe finished speaking and walked to stand with Randolph and Gasteau.

Ganlon looked at the wound. The bolt had entered his leg and was touching the bone. He would have to get it out before he could close the wound. Had this had happened before the Goddess he would have dug the bolt out and then packed the wound with Yarrow and Garlic.

Ganlon knew that he had the ability to heal the wound without the need of herbs now but he was going to still need to get the bolt out. Without saying a word to Peter he stood and grabbed the bolt. He pulled it straight out in one smooth motion.

“AAARHGHELS.” Peter roared as the wound in his leg was torn open. His head fell back and his body suddenly gave a shudder. Randolph and Keloge flinched and jumped an inch towards Peter. Blood spurted up Ganlon’s shirt as it pulsed red with Peter’s heart beat.

Ganlon grabbed the light in the back of his head with a new focus that he had never used before. Normally he concentrated and slowly pulled the door open. This time he yanked it open with his mind’s eye. The instant flood of light that filled his head made him giddy.

He let the light flow down his arm and past his elbow. He let it go past his wrist and into his fingers. He pushed it into Peter. Ganlon knew that Peter had a severed blood vessel. The main pipe of life is what his father had called it. He reached with his mind into the meat of Peter. He went down the length of the hole until he found it. It was a small nick but Peter’s life leached from it.

He started here and let the light talk to the parts of Peter’s body. The light seemed to ask them to mend. The nick closed and the blood stopped. Ganlon worked his way back up the wound letting the light do it’s job until the wound was closed. He knew he wasn’t done yet.

Father said that the bones of a person made their life and Ganlon new that the blood of Peter carried his life. He asked the bones to make more blood with the light and backed his mind out of Peter. The doorway into Ganlon’s mind shut.

Ganlon sat back on his heels and then onto his butt. He was cold and tired. Every part of him felt like he had been hit with a hammer. Peter on the other hand stood like he had just awakened and stretched.

“Bud, I tell you I don’t think that I will ever get used to you doing that. I feel like I was twenty again. Let’s go get this rotten bastard.” Peter strode towards the doorway.

“What about him? And Marc?” Randolph looked towards Ganlon and the living twin.

“Ganlon, you up?” Peter glared at Ganlon.

“Sure, twenty or thirty dead people, one living guy who wants to kill me, I’m happy to sit right here and wait for the Hero’s to return.” Ganlon laid his sword on his lap.

“See Randolph, Ganlon’s perfect. Now let’s go.” Peter walked onto the stairs.

[Ganlon Martel]

“You know it wasn’t my fault you brother died, right Marc? Right.” All Ganlon got for his words were a muffled curse word and a lot of scraping sounds. The bound Marc had no way to really let Ganlon know what it was that he was thinking.

Ganlon was exhausted. The little healing that he had done to Peter had drained him. He was upset that he had not been able to save Luc but he realized that had he tried to heal him he would have been useless to heal Peter.

He felt useless now. He felt useless a lot lately with the Team of Fellows. He questioned what it was that the Goddess had intended for him when she sent him here. He hadn’t done a lot of healing and obviously he wasn’t doing a lot of fighting.

“What do you think?” Ganlon realized that he had sat down next to a dead young solider. The man looked to be the same age as Ganlon. The eyes had lost the luster of life and the husk that was once a man didn’t answer his question. The deadness of the solider evoked a plethora of emotion in Ganlon.

He felt sad for the loss of life. Sad that this young man would never get a chance to live a full life, he wondered if he had a family and had taken this job to pay for food for his children. He wondered who his mother was and if his father had taught him to use the sword that lay on the floor broken.

“Why did you die? Why not me, or Marc over there?” Ganlon looked at Marc whose face had become red with the struggles of attempting to become untied. The solider had a hole in his chest from a sword. Ganlon couldn't be sure whose weapon had caused the wound and the front of his Tabard was soiled with his blood. He smelled of human feces as his bowels had let loose after he had died.

Ganlon scooted his butt over towards the solider. He still felt to tired to rise. So he just scooted over to where he was close enought to touch the young man.

“To be honest with you” Ganlon leaned in to the solider, “I am glad you died and not me. I am sure there is more for me to do and as far as I can tell being dead is bad.” Ganlon closed the young soldier’s eyes with his fingers. Ganlon struggled for a moment with searching the Soldier and noticed that he had a pouch on his side. He slid his hand down to the pouch and untied it.

Ganlon pulled the pouch open and found some tobacco inside. A pipe made of white wood accompanied four gold pieces inside. Finally a striker of steel and flint was in the pouch. After about thirty seconds of flipping the pipe over and over again in his hands Ganlon decided that the dead soldier would no longer need the pipe. He packed the pipe with the tobacco and sat for a minute before lighting it.

Ganlon had never truly learned how to pray to the Goddess. He had no formal training on how to be a cleric or priest, holy man, or seer. What ever they called a man who followed a god, Ganlon didn’t know into which category he fit. Most of the time he just talked out loud hoping the Goddess would hear him. This time however he wanted it to fit and he let the words come from the place in his head where the light lived.

“Goddess, mother of light, who shows us the way in the darkness, guide these souls to a place where the darkness and pain of daily toil can no longer touch them. Give them light eternal, and let the joys they knew in life ring eternal in death. Finally Goddess, I thank you for giving me the blessing of my life this day and for giving me this gift of tobacco.” Ganlon lit the pipe and took a slow drag. He blew the smoke towards the sky and looked around the room. Marc had finally lied still and so had the rest of the room.

The quiet of the room had taken on an oppressive life of its own. Ganlon felt as if it had creped up on him like a child planning to scare an unwary adult. There was still ringing in his ears from the sword crashes. This made the quiet of the room louder.

The fire in the fire place had realized it was night and had fallen asleep banking down until all that was left was a smoky haze of blue fire that sat above the log lying in the hearth. Now with the torches spread around the room everything began to dance. As a breeze from the open doorway blew into the room Ganlon watched as the shadows of the bunks, foot lockers, and possessions of the Soldiers danced over dead bodies in an orgy of passage into something dark.

Ganlon realized at this point that he could no longer remember hearing the Team of Fellow for quite some time. This scared him, but what scared him further was the fact was where they went was where what ever was stealing the light of life resided.

Ganlon puffed on his new pipe two more times. He tapped it on his boot to clear it out. He put it into his pouch and stood up. He knew now that he needed to go through that door.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon stood with his sword in his hand. “I’ll be right back Marc. You stay right there okay?” Ganlon forced his customarily happy smile. Marc’s eyes burnt with fury at the healer.

Ganlon shifted his shield on his arm and he began walking towards the door. He walked like he had seen the Team of Fellows move. He placed his heel first than rolled to the toe of his foot being careful not to step on the items on the floor.

He walked past Madeline’s head and then her body. He stepped over piles of dead bodies. Some deep seated ancient fear came forward and for a moment he was frozen by the idea that the dead were rising. Realizing that it was just a trick of the light he moved forward.

As he stepped into the door way he saw that the stairs went up and down. This fact had never been an idea in his head and he stood looking at the stairs for a moment. Up or down he had no point of reference to make a judgment from. He thought about doing the childhood game of blue peg, red peg and even started it, “blue peg, red peg, I choose you” when he heard the sound of soft chanting coming from the stairway going down.
There was one torch at the bottom of the stairway in what looked to be a vestibule of sorts.

Ganlon was never one for stealth. His father had described him as about as quiet as a thunderstorm. Ganlon knew that it would take every bit of his concentration to control the movements of his body to keep quiet. The fear reaction kicked in again and he felt the same symptoms that he had outside all over again. This time his body added sweaty palms just for good measure.

The clothing he wore gave off no sound and Ganlon began his walk down the stairs holding on to his shield and sword with a death grip. Each step he took Ganlon made a mental count of one hundred before taking the next one.

One thousand counts later he stood in an alcove at the bottom of the stairs. Three doors faced him. Each had letters inscribed above them. None of the letters made any sense to Ganlon. They seemed to make his eyes water and his stomach quiver every time he looked at them. The letters had to be Magical inscriptions. It was all that Ganlon could deduce.

He fumbled with his sword as he tried to lift the latch of the first door and hold onto the sword at the same time. The clang off the latch as the metal of the sword hit it made Ganlon freeze like a stone statue. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire. He stood like a statue for another of his one hundred counts. He would have to ask Keloge how he was able to open doors and hold onto his sword. That was if he ever saw Keloge again. The door was locked from the inside. Okay one door down.

He moved to the second door. This time he slid his sword into the scabbard at his side and put his hand on the latch. He leaned into the wooden door. He could smell the mold and rot from the pine door. It had been here for a very long time. The smell calmed him it rooted him in a reality of simplicity for a moment. He placed his ear on the door and listed for anything on the other side of the door.

[Ganlon Martel]

He couldn't hear any noise. This was not going at all the way that he had hoped. Go quietly down the stairs, sneak up on the bad guys, free his friends, at least that was the plan at the top of the stairs. The bad guys weren't playing along.

Ganlon grabbed the latch on the second door just as the torch that was in the in the vestibule went out. This was not going at all the way he had planned. On the other side of the door was a blue light. It glowed from something deep in the room. The floor of the room just past inside of the room past where Ganlon was pitched downward towards the center of the room.

Ganlon could see the that the roof had a slope as well. This was not a room it was a cavern and the light was in the center of it. Okay, Ganlon thought to himself, how much do I really want to save these guys? Marc upstairs wanted to kill him. Peter had forced him to stay telling him that if he didn't he would kill him. Randolph just loved killing. Gasteau was Gasteau, but Keloge, Ganlon wanted to save Keloge.

He stepped into the Cavern of a room and towards the light. He walked and as he did he started to hear the Chanting again. This time he could make out that it was a single male voice. It was much louder now than when he had heard it from the top of the stairs. The way the cavern of a room was designed it allowed the sound to find you where ever you stood.

Ganlon took ten more steps and he could make out what was glowing. It took his breath away and he stood agape. It was a chalice. Black as midnight this one was. It had no chip in it, unlike his own. Still this could be a sibling to his own chalice. A brother or a sister, or maybe a parent. There was something unmistakenly wrong about it though.

Ganlon need to see it closer and he began walking again. As he continued he saw the remaining members of the Team of Fellows. Each of them stood straight as a board. There hands were out and open. There arms flung open wide as each resembled a letter T. There faces were pictures of horror. Pain filled every muscle and consumed their eyes. Muscle twinges could be seen as they moved in rhythm with what stood in front of them. They moved with the sound of the chant in a dance of pain.

What stood there was a man, a human male. Ganlon could make out his age from the back of his head but he was clean shaven and a tattoo of black thorns ran from his collar up to a crown on his head. His clothes were yellow like the tabards of the men who had died above him. Ganlon fingered the pipe that he had aquired not so long ago. The man was average in size and build. His hands were raised in motions that reminded Ganlon of a conductor of music.

Every time he made a down stroke with his left hand, he punctuated it with a sound in the chant. Ganlon reasoned out what he was doing. Every time he made the down stroke he pulled life energy from the Team of fellows. He watched as the light from the Team of Fellows left them and went to the Man.

Ganlon looked hard at the chalice. It was the point where the light was going. It was eating it, absorbing it, channelling it; but into what? Under the chalice lay a shield of black. Ganlon could not recognize the metal. The light was going straight into the metal and becoming one with the fibers within. Who ever this was he was using this chalice to make a magical item.

He had not been noticed yet, so Ganlon crept closer. The Team of Fellows did not seem to see him either and he made it ever closer to the Man. Just before he made it with in striking distance the man stopped and turned around.

"You were Peter's newest addition. The healer who could bind wounds with a light from with in." Ganlon could see that the eyes of the man burned with a green light. The rest of his face was impassive as if no emotion moved with in him. Ganlon's stomach turned with knots of fear. This Man knew him.

"What did he call you? Oh, yes, Ganlon. A very old name to be sure. From an old line I believe. The Martels wasn't it. Followers of the Goddess Aegle, I believe." The man turned his eyes away and made the Team of Fellows move the dance of pain again. Ganlon's sword point dropped. He had said the name of the Goddess. The words hit hm harder than any blow.

Aegle was the name of his Goddess. The name rang like joyful bells in his head when he heard it. That was she. His Goddess, the one that had caused him to be standing here. The vision of her in his head became clear from his dream and she stood in his head in clear detail. He had never known her name before. Ganlon knew why he had been made to turn that corner.

He looked at her with his mind's eye from toes to head. She stood wearing a robe of light green that held the twinkle of starlight on water. Her hair flowed from her head in a red glow that spoke of the rise of the morning sun on a pond. Her hands and feet were gone in a light that he could not see into. Then he saw her face. Every line was perfectly cut, there were no flaws, no wrinkles. Her lips held the fullness of a ripe strawberry and her cheeks were the color of cream. Her eyes held him in the blue green of an ocean storm. He felt a love there that made his heart swell in his chest. His Goddess, thanks be to her.

[Ganlon Martel]

Ganlon wanted more. He needed more. The dance of pain continued but he didn’t care. He waited. He stood statue still and looked at the Mage in front of him.
Belkas Droverson knew what he had done. He was too engulfed in the transformation to actually fight Ganlon. He had been a Mage for a very long time and for a good reason. Small time adventurers such as Ganlon Martel always had weaknesses. It was finding it that made Belkas the Unwanted so good at staying alive.

The Delyn shield that lay beneath his chalice was half way through the transformation to its full capabilities. The amount of life force that was focused now into it was tremendous. Thirty of the soldiers that he had hired and now the last of his Team of Fellows life force had been focused into the shield.

The entire pretense of this job; what did that idiot fighter Langford call it, ah yes the “blow”, had been perfectly structured for this moment. The Team of Fellows had out lasted their necessity. They had started to do what most idiots do; they got full of themselves and started demanding more money.

Belkas realized that at some point Ganlon would awake from the stunned shock that had hit him when he had invoked the Goddesses true name. The power of that name had cost him dearly and for a moment his confidence was shaken by doubt. How had a true follower of Aegle found him?

His confidence was bolstered as the life force of the one named Randolph completely left his body and the husk of the man hit the floor. Thirty seconds no more and he would have completed his necessary task and be able to dispatch this lost soul of a Cleric of Aegle that stood behind him.

A Cleric of Aegle, he had not heard that title for a very long time. He would be richly rewarded when he completed the Shield and killed the Cleric of Aegle. He returned his focus to the transformation.

Ganlon watched as Randolph hit the floor. He felt the light exit his body. He wondered which of the Team would be next. He looked to the faces of Keloge, Gasteau, and Peter. The dance of pain continued for each of them. The pain in their eyes stung a nerve in the part of Ganlon that was still a small town healer. He couldn't just let them die.

In his head he heard it, voice from the other side of the door in his mind. A soft voice at first but its power grew. The light grew also and Ganlon could feel it push on the door. The voice said, “You are my child and in you I am well pleased. Make right the wrong that lies before you.”
Ganlon’s body awoke from the cold freeze that had over taken it with a burst of white light.

[Ganlon Martel]

The light from Ganlon’s body lit the cavern and bathed it in a daylight shine. The pictures that had been drawn there in days gone past shone with a new cleanness. Men and women dancing and playing, loving and laughing, while Gods and Goddess sat on thrones above them were painted from floor to ceiling of the Cavern.

Ganlon didn’t see any of it with his conscious eye. His brain recorded it categorized it and put it in a synapse to be recalled later. Later when he would need to remember this ruin, he would return. Right now though, his only focus was the Black Chalice on the block of stone that stood in the middle of the cavern.

Ganlon did not think about the mage or the dance he forced the members of the Team of Fellows to dance. He didn’t think about his sword or his shield as he let them fall from his hands. All he could see was the black chalice. He grabbed it then and let the light that filled him enter into it.

The moment after he touched the Chalice he had a vision. He saw himself and Genove. They laughed as a boy and girl danced together on the lawn of his father’s house. They held hands and kissed and Ganlon was happy. It was gone in the next second as the blast from the wave of energy hit him like a wall of stone. He fell onto the floor of the cavern with an audible thud.

Belkas Droverson was also driven to the ground by the wave of energy. Completely stunned by the loss of connection to the black chalice he looked around the room for a moment as if he were under water. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t hear, and he had lost sense of self.

The last of the Team of Fellows fell as puppets cut from their puppet masters strings. Each lay in the spot where they were cut free in a crumpled heap.
Light like a small sun appeared in the center of the cavern above the spot where the black chalice had been. The energies of the dead moved from the shield and the fractured chalice up and into the light with a beautiful rainbow of people. Faces of the soldiers and persons that had been trapped by Belkas moved along the rainbow and into the otherlife. The energy of the Team of Fellows that lived returned to them.

Ganlon was able to witness this beauty from his backside and his smile was a bright as ever. He watched the sprits pass to the otherlife with a detachment from the world around him. The smile on Ganlon’s face filled Belkas with anger that came from the very pits of his being. He felt that he had enough energy for one more spell and he began the chant for a spell that would burn the smile off of Ganlon’s face for ever.

The words had just made there climax when Keloge raised himself from his place on the floor. He heard the Mage, saw Ganlon, and pulled the last of his daggers from his boot. With a force of will and flick of the wrist Keloge threw his dagger towards the Mage.

Had Keloge been one hundred percent the dagger would have buried itself in the throat of the Mage ending the life of Belkas the unwanted. Keloge was not one hundred percent and the dagger found itself in the Mage’s back. It was enough how ever to cause the spell to go off before completion and the energy was sent straight into the small sun in the ceiling.

“Zall,” Ganlon said as he awoke from his revelry. He grabbed his sword and stood.

“Mage I have ended the darkness that you have started. Now I will end you.” Ganlon stepped towards the Mage.

“Do you think yourself some hero, spouting off words like that?” Belkas reached for the dagger in his back. “I am Belkas, the Unwanted, Mage of the Three Powers, Stealer of life force, you are a street orphan. A nothing that I allowed to come to me for your life energy, shut your mouth.” Belkas pulled the dagger from his shoulder blade.

Behind Belkas, Peter Langford stood.

“Zall, Belkas, you tried to kill me.” Peter looked around for his sword and retrieved it. “What the Zall, Bud, you really pissed me off. “ Gasteau stood next and then Keloge.

“I warned you about the balance Peter. Things were way off balance and needed to be leveled off. It looks like the scales are still tipped though. Belkas you are a weight I wish to remove.” Keloge picked up his sword and Gasteau’s.

“Peter, Keloge, Gasteau, nice to see you again.” Ganlon smiled.

“I told you to shut up. I am Belkas. You three are mine. I found you, I paid for you, I made you, I can destroy you.” Belkas moved his hand towards a pouch at his belt. Ganlon moved faster than he knew he had the ability to do and was standing with the point of his sword at Belkas’ neck before the Mage could put his hand inside.

“Ganlon, bud, as much as it pains me to say this, don’t kill him yet.” Peter walked forward. Each step was force of will, but Ganlon could see a look of sheer determination in the Team Leaders eyes. “I would like to hear the full story before I end him.” Peter moved to stand before the Mage. He touched Ganlon’s sword and lowered away from the Mages neck.

“Talk Mage, what is all of this?” Ganlon saw the Mage start to move. The Mage touched a ring on his left hand with his right pointer finger. He tried to move his sword back and Peter grabbed for the Mage in same instant only to hold thin air.

“Zalling unbelievable,” Peter yelled from at the top of his lungs. “I should have just let you kill him.”

“I too would have known what plans this nefarious demon of a Magic user had for this item.” Keloge poked the slag of a metal that was the Black Chalice with the end of his sword.

“There can be no fault found in the desire to gain information and knowledge Peter. This is what keeps us alive.”

Peter turned to Ganlon and grabbed his right shoulder, “Martel, you saved my life. You saved my friends lives. You are free from any binding I placed on you when you first met us. You are free to move on. Bud, you can come with us, as I am sure that Keloge, Gasteau and I, “
Peter looked at the two of the other fellows, “will be chasing Belkas. Or go your own way. We have to retrieve Marc from up stairs. He is still alive right?”

Ganlon nodded his head yes. Peter continued, “He will probably want to avenge his brother’s death. I can’t fully speak for him Bud, but I am pretty sure that he will always hate you.”

“I know Peter. I can’t stay with you. There are other things I have found about myself today.” Ganlon grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him close.

“I will miss you. You are the closest that I still have to family out there.”

“That’s not entirely true, Bud. Your Mother had a sister. Her name is Jeanie Charlotte. I believe she is still alive. Although where to find her now though I couldn’t tell you.” Peter pushed Ganlon back. Ganlon put this new knowledge with the rest of the days revelations.

“Rolly Polly little Ganlon, I will miss you.”

Keloge came forward, “You talk as if we are already going separate ways. We still have stairs to climb a building to leave and a wagon to get back to Radasanth. Although I think that Ganlon should go before us. I don’t know how much Marc is going to like the idea of pulling a wagon with Ganlon.” Keloge started the walk from the Cavern with Peter directly behind.

Gasteau walked forward and picked up the black shield that lay on the stone in the middle of the room. He placed it into Ganlon’s hands and stared deeply into Ganlon’s eyes. He let go of Ganlon’s hand and moved to the others. Ganlon looked one more time around the darkness of the Cavern of a room and followed the others out.

One last goodbye at the door of the ruins finished the time that Ganlon Martel spent with the Team of Fellows. Ganlon felt as if he had known them forever and a little piece of him had died as he walked away into the forests of Concordia.

[Breaker]

This is my first "workshop" judgment, and I elected to put it on the full rubric for two reasons. Ordinarily workshop judgments are on the condensed rubric, but I wanted to showcase the slightly remodelled 3.0 rubric here, and also provide well-organised commentary, because of the quantity and quality of work you put in here. After I've archived this thread, I'll add my judgment to the workshop and leave it open for a few days for any last-minute user comments. My commentary in each area will be somewhat rudimentary, only filling in things I believe the workshop did not cover.

Mood: Patient
Music: Lethal & Young by HW

Plot Construction - 18/30
Story: 6/10 - The first 4-5 posts of this thread would have made a bone-biting intro if not for weaknesses in the writing I'll outline further on. Your execution of the rising action/climax/falling action was somewhat less elegant, but nonetheless I commend your work on a building a coherent storyline.

Strategy: 5.5/10 - When you actually used the skills, abilities, and body language/actions of the characters to drive the plot, you did it exceptionally well. However there were large segments of dialogue dominant prose where your strategy work fell apart, which I'll get into later.

Setting: 6.5/10 - You had some really great setting work, solid original descriptions, but again my commentary further down will show how your pacing got in the way of a higher score here. Basically your consistency is off - in post #2 for example, mostly the descriptions are good, but your transition from "forest" to "guys' house" is so sudden and muddy I had to re-read it, and finally read on to the next post before I really understood where we were.

Characterisation - 15/30
Continuity: 4/10 - Because of the lack of physical actions from the characters, or any other adequate imagery during the long dialogy bits, it was difficult to keep a flowing image in my head. You did a great job of capturing the "feel" of Althanas but I didn't notice a significant effort beyond that to connect your story or character to existing lore.

Character: 6.5/10 - You really do have some great character work with Ganlon, but that only extended to the NPCs on occasion - for the most part they didn't come off nearly as real or important as him. You can remedy this by applying the same level of realism to other characters as you do to Ganlon - even though they may be stronger/tougher.

Interaction: 4.5/10 - You had some really great moments, mostly linked to Ganlon's physical actions, but your overuse of dialogue really hurt the thread overall. As an exercise in the future, try to always have at least two sentences of description after someone says something. In this way, each "line" becomes accompanied by a physical action, piece of body language, or sound that will help tie the reader in to the moment. When you get comfortable doing this every time, you'll find your characters don't need to say as much out loud, simply because they are saying things with their personalities and their actions. At that point, you'll be able to find the "right" spots to use quick one-liners, and provide rich dialogue that complements the action consistently.

Writing Style - 16/30
Creativity: 6/10 - A unique approach at a concept I haven't seen for awhile at least on Althanas. Your work with literary devices is still fairly basic, but I can see you're getting better. I also did appreciate some overarching themes in this thread and your character's storyline, as well as a few nifty allusions.

Mechanics: 7/10 - You can probably find all of your own typos and grammatical errors, so I won't go into that. Instead I'll use this spot to mention the flashback-present phase of this story would have worked better if you'd had one post of flashback, then one post of present. It got confusing with you switching in the middle of posts, and the ______ really just made it look bad. I'd recommend a single or three * centred or aligned left, but keep in mind playing with flashbacks is trickier than it seems.

Clarity: 3/10 - Thought this really wasn't long I had to take a couple breaks to get my thoughts in order. The combination of my critique elsewhere all contributed to bringing this score down. If you don't already read your posts out loud to yourself as part of your editing, begin doing so immediately. If you are already doing that, find someone else to read them out loud to.

Wildcard: 6/10 - You're really close to jumping 5-10 points in your average scores, I can sense it.

Total: 55/100


I request from this quest one white wooden pipe and the tobacco to smoke in it. I request the Delyn shield devoid of any power,metal alone, to be used in a future quest where power maybe bestowed upon it, in lieu of any gold. Thank you.

Ganlon Martel gains the pipe and tobacco as described and a medium or small sized dehlar shield in lieu of gold. The shield may be upgraded to delyn in a future quest or at the bazaar at a reduced rate.

Ganlon Martel gains 710 EXP.