Through the Tears

[Scarovese]

OOC: Part 2 of my intro quest

I found it was the little things that I missed the most. My alarm clock, my car, my bed; rather than pine for the entire world I had lost, instead I only thought of these small creature comforts. Pulling the wool blanket Germeroth had provided me closer to my chin, I tried to shift around enough so that the hardwood floor didn’t feel so… hard. Sighing, I realized it was pointless; I was sleeping on the floor of a dwarf’s room at the largest tavern I had ever seen. Granted, I hadn’t seen many taverns in my life as a realtor, but the place had to be bigger than most. Since teleporting through an old book earlier that day, I had been given the penny tour and then been hustled up to Germeroth’s quarters. The dwarf had been very focused on business; find this parchment, pack that bag, consult this book, or ask me that question. On the other hand, the gargantuan desert-dweller (for I had learned that Fallien was a sandy wasteland) was full of questions. I had practically recounted by life story to the dark-skinned brute before Germeroth declared it was time to turn in for the evening. Bhakti’mat the inquisitive headed to his own room while the dwarf invited me to stay with him. When I had seen there was only one bed, I had immediately surmised my fate. And so, hours later, here I was still tossing and turning on the floor. I only prayed to avoid a midnight encounter with a mouse.

Scar Matthews, that was my new identity. The real estate tycoon I had been on Earth had little hope of returning to his place in life. And so, I had embraced Bhakti’mat’s suggestion that I move on and start a new beginning here in Alerar. Alerar; the name was still so foreign to me. I had read an entire tome of knowledge on the region, but still it felt entirely mysterious. It was one thing reading about a fantastical land and another thing entirely when one found oneself living in it. As I contemplated my new surroundings, I thought back to the events that had made the transition easier for me.

Colorful leaves littered the ground all around campus and the air had that slight bite to it that signaled the advent of winter. Students prepared for their final examinations of the semester as the nights grew longer and longer. The library was packed to the brim, the local coffee shop was busier than usual, and that was where I first saw her. To describe her would be to invite a myriad of clichés. And yet, as I think back on it, those poetic lines are the only things which do her justice. Her olive skin and almond eyes set her apart from the start. As she waited in line with her friends for a double macchiato, her smile brightened the room around her. Stefania. I knew in an instant that she was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. The following year saw us meeting each other for coffee, going on double dates with friends, visiting some of the nicer restaurants around town, and eventually moving in together. I loved everything about her; her smarts, her charm, her smile, her style, and her personality. She made that apartment our home and we began to look to the future. Finally, on April 23rd, a month before we would both graduate, I asked her to marry me.

She was my world. I changed my work schedule so that we could spend more time together. I planned elaborate dates that would amaze and surprise her. I stopped boxing because she felt it was too dangerous. And I moved most of the furniture and such from my apartment into storage. She meant everything to me. It made it all the more difficult to hear the news on May 16th. After class one night, I had arranged to meet her at a local bar. We were just going to grab a few drinks and chat with friends. On her way there, Stefania had a run-in with some lowlife looking for a few bucks. He grabbed her purse and she fought back. In a panic, the criminal pulled a knife on her and lunged. She never saw it coming. I spent the rest of that night in the hospital by her bed, distraught that I could do nothing to help her. We held hands as she slowly faded away. My Stefania. The next days and weeks blended together in a blur. Arrangements were made, friends consoled me. I spoke with the police, her family, reporters, campus officials; everyone’s words conveyed the same emotions. But none of them could bring her back.

I eventually put all of her things in storage and brought mine out. I moved away from that town; far across the country to rid myself of the friends and family that reminded me of her. I received my diploma from the college despite having not finished the last few credits I needed, the dean mumbling something about extenuating circumstances as he spoke with me. I devoted myself to my work, making my only goal to be busy enough to drown the pain. For a time, it seemed as though it was working. There were days when I would just sit in my chair and stare at her picture. But eventually the wounds became less painful and I found myself in a whole other life than what I had originally set out to find. My business had grown around me, my house had filled with memories that didn’t include her. I had never forgotten and never moved on, but somehow my life had taken care of that for me. It felt like I woke up one day and she was completely gone from my life. Consequently, that was the day my life felt truly empty.

[Scarovese]

The image of her face floated before my eyes as I became aware of my surroundings once again. It was getting lighter outside and the birds had begun their song hours before. I had lived with the pain for five years; I had become accustomed to moving on and ignoring the hurt. Germeroth was stirring in his bed and I heard other guests of the inn doing the same. The hustle and bustle of Ettermire was beginning anew; I felt it fitting that I should allow myself to do the same. I pushed memories of Stefania down once again and brought my focus back to the task at hand. “Good morning,” I offered the dwarf as I pushed myself up to a seated position. “What’s the plan, Germeroth?” He yawned and stretched one arm straight out, his lips curling back to disappear into his thick beard.

“We’ll need to get you properly outfitted,” he remarked, gesturing to the chair where I had unceremoniously hung my tie. My dress shirt was half untucked and wrinkled all over; the dwarf had a valid point. “Those clothes will just draw the wrong kind of attention.”

Calvin Klein would draw the wrong kind of attention. I chuckled; only in this world would that be the case. Standing and stretching myself, I took the time to fold the blanket that my friend had provided me. As I did, I tried to recall the events of the evening with greater clarity. There had been so much new information that I feared my brain had shut down at some point. Bits and pieces began to fill in the gaps and I shook my head as Germeroth spoke again.

“Alright, off to the market for us all, I think. With Bhakti’mat by our side no one will dare approach you about your choice of clothing. I have the necessary supplies,” here he counted out several coins before returning them to his purse. “And then I think we should visit the library to do some research. Keep you away from prying eyes and hopefully learn more about your book.” The book; I jolted toward the drawer where I had placed it last night. Yanking it open, I was relieved to see the leatherbound cover staring up at me. Germeroth chuckled as he readied for our morning, but I stroked the book longingly. This ancient tome was my last connection to the world I had left. As foolish as it seemed, I felt more comfortable knowing it was around.

“What are we looking for at the market?” I asked my companion as we made our way out of the room and down the hall to where Bhakti’mat waited. “Did you even sleep?” I called out as we approached. The gargantuan man flashed all his teeth before ducking under the archway at the top of the stairs. His massive frame seemed to scrape the walls as he descended into one of the common areas.

“New clothes, supplies, a bed, food,” Germeroth ticked off each item on his meaty fingers as I followed him after our dark-skinned friend. “Besides all that, it’ll let you see the city!” He turned and punched my shin jovially. “I know you read all about us, but nothing beats getting out and seeing it in all its glory!” Wincing a bit from the strong man’s blow, I hobbled down the last step and glanced about the room. Elves as far as the eye could see, sitting and standing everywhere without a care in the world. Although I knew humans were in the minority in this city, it still came as a shock to my system to actually see them there. Here and there the odd dwarf sat at a table with his fellow explorers, but the room was predominantly elves. Shaking my head once again, I exhaled sharply and jogged to catch up to Bhakti’mat and Germeroth.

[Scarovese]

We made our way through the labyrinthine corridors of El'inssring and eventually emerged into the city itself. The written description of the city which I had read in my book, Tales of Ettermire, paled in comparison to witnessing it firsthand. Germeroth was completely right. I felt as though I had fallen back in time to the medieval period; the large fortress of the queen loomed in the distance, casting its grand shadow across the rich mansions sprawling around it. The Great Tavern was just on the edge of this wealthy district, encouraging all walks of life to enter and have a drink. Ahead of us was the factory district, effectively creating a division between the rich and poor neighborhoods. The smokestacks from each building emitted a black smog which, in turn, blanketed the sky in an effort to blot out the sun. However, it simply made the sunlight that much more majestic; its brilliant rays piercing the blackened sky and reaching down toward us with fingers of warmth and welcoming. The band of factories stretched beyond the limits of my sight, Alerar truly was an industrial nation. The workers were already in the large buildings, the sounds of their shouting mingling with the clang of their instruments and tools. They were the heart of the city, but they would be nowhere without the great minds who fueled it. I peered around, looking for the library I knew to be nearby. Finally I found it, its great arches reaching toward the sky as it to punch a hole in it. I imagined its halls would be filled with the most brilliant of inventors and academics that the world had ever known. I envisioned walking through stacks of books and scrolls containing the learning of an entire race which had brought them to the height of their greatness. I held out my arms and closed my eyes, letting the image surround me and comfort me. What a place it must be!

“Watch it!” shouted an elf as my arms knocked into him. He grunted, scowled, and twisted his body as he walked by to avoid touching me again. My eyes now open, I saw both of my companions stifling a laugh.

“We’re not even to the impressive part of the city,” Germeroth explained as he gestured for me to follow. “Try to contain yourself.” With a wink, he led me through the cobbled streets and toward the marketplace. We had risen with the first light of the dawn, and yet the vendors crowding the streets were already set up and hawking their wares. They respectfully left room for citizens of Ettermire to leave their houses and use the side streets, but every other available inch seemed taken by another tall, dark elf shouting about why their items were the best in the land. As somewhat of a salesman myself, I had to chuckle. Sales pitches were universal, it seemed. The World’s Best Coffee in New York or the Greatest Helm in All the Realm; everyone just wanted more business. Bhakti’mat glanced my way, his brow creasing as he raised one eyebrow in question. I waved him off, no sense in getting into comparisons between the worlds with him right now. We had sights to see!

We wove our way through the city, following some secret path that only Germeroth knew. Several times, I stepped back on to a main street and noticed merchants only a block or two away that we had seen before. Why was the dwarf taking us on such a circuitous route when a straight line would have worked better? I trusted him out of necessity, for he and the brute were literally my only contact so far, but I still had to wonder about his motives. Did he hope to disorient me so that I would not wander the city on my own? Was there a more sinister plot at work? My instincts sharpened my senses as the adrenaline began to kick in. That primal fight or flight response welled up within me and I had to make a concerted effort not to tear off down the main road. My fingers tapped out a staccato rhythm against the leg of my dress pants. But just as the feeling of dread became unbearable, Germeroth stopped cold.

“In here, quickly,” he urged with a whisper. Holding a piece of cloth to the side, he gestured to a hidden doorway where Bhakti’mat was already disappearing.

“Wait just a second,” I began, ready to demand some answers. But before I could take my stand, Bhakti’mat’s gargantuan arm shot out and yanked me toward him. Germeroth slipped just inside and quickly dropped the cloth, letting it flutter back to its place obscuring the doorway. I heard the clank of metal outside and shadows passed by the window of the shabby apartment. As much as I would have like to get a look, the Fallien guard’s grip was tighter than I could escape from. The sounded retreated as quickly as it had come and I turned to the dwarf. “What is going on?” I finally confronted him.

Scowling, it took the dwarf a few moments to decide on his reply. “This is not an easy time for Alerar, Scar. Our queen was recently assassinated and now the man who has taken her place is shrouded in mystery. The entire nation is on alert, but Ettermire is on edge. Strangers are treated with more than just suspicion these days, some fear another attempt on an important life. The guards fear assassins lurk within every shadow.” Here he stopped and the serious look softened on his face. “But if you’re an assassin, I’ll shave my beard! There’s something else about you, but those guard wouldn’t give you a second look. That garb you’re in would send you to the dungeons or worse. I’m sorry.”

At last, our massive ally loosened his grip on my arm and allowed me to shrug free. Trying in vain to flatten the wrinkles in my shirt, I walked over to the door once more. I moved the cloth to the side and peered down the street. There were guards everywhere. How had I not noticed this before!? A small patrol passed crossed the road a few blocks away, another was stationed near a large shop further up. I felt the adrenaline in my veins turn to ice as it finally became clear why our route had been so strange. Germeroth was avoiding every patrol while still attempting to move us across the city. The situation was more serious than I thought.

“Thank you,” I said quietly as I let the cloth slip away again. “Where are we headed next?”

The dwarf flashed me a smile again and laid his hand on my arm reassuringly. “We’re nearly there,” he consoled, nodding his head toward the door. We slipped onto the street once more, dodging another patrol before arriving at a vendor’s stall near a small, dry fountain.

“Greetings, Germeroth,” the merchant oozed as we drew closer. His smile seemed tacked on his face and his hands rubbed together uneasily. “What can I do for you today?” The dwarf seemed not to notice, or if he did it didn’t faze him one bit. He removed a few coins from his purse and placed them deliberately on the man’s counter. Immediately, the vendor’s fingers slid to the money and traced the designs on each one. However, Germeroth didn’t take his hands from the coins until the elf looked him in the eyes. Once their gazes locked, the elf dropped the façade of the ever-eager shopkeeper. “I cannot,” he pleaded, responding to some unvoiced request. “They are watching me too closely.” The dwarf grunted menacingly and took a half-step toward his contact. The elf’s face paled noticeably and he removed his fingers from the coins. With one quick motion, he reached underneath the counter and brandished a knife in Germeroth’s face.

“You don’t want to do that, friend,” came Bhakti’mat’s deep bass voice. He sounded as though he were offering some friendly advice to a stranger, but his body language as he crossed the space between them was anything but amiable. Germeroth merely smiled, the knife doing little to change his disposition. Faced with such a staunch foe and such a gargantuan bodyguard, the elf let the knife drop to the ground and buried his face in his hands.

“You’ll ruin me!” he lamented, “I’ll be seized and thrown in the dungeon of the Dark Palace!” He began wailing at this point, thrashing his arms around him as if fending off some unseen foe. Germeroth stepped back and made no move to soothe the man’s fears. Bhakti’mat drew himself up to his full height and simply crossed his arms, waiting for the elf’s tantrum to end. After a few more thrashes, the vendor must have realized his flailing was not having the intended effect on his adversaries. He stopped, gathered himself as much as he could, and then petitioned again, “Please, Germeroth, find another to assist you. I cannot risk any more black marks on my record.” His voice quavered and his eyes conveyed his fears. It had certainly not all been an act.

I felt compelled to intercede, “Look, I don’t need whatever he has. We can just get clothes somewhere else, right?” As I walked toward my dwarven ally, he turned to face me. Seeing the look of stone he shot my way, I mumbled something about clothes and quickly shut my mouth. Clearly there was more going on here than I understood.

Bhakti’mat gestured once again to the coins and implored the elf, “Take them. We can protect you.” The elf shook his head, but he said nothing as his hands snaked forward to collect his fee. “The parcel.”

Grumbling under his breath, the elf ducked behind a display and emerged with a box about the size of a small trunk. He hefted it onto the counter, glaring dagger at both my compatriots, and gestured for us all to leave. Germeroth thanked him cordially and turned away down the road we had taken there. The brute shouldered the trunk with ease and quickly followed after. I hastened to catch up with them, not eager to be alone near the man whose life we had allegedly just ruined.

[Scarovese]

After returning along an equally dizzy route back to the Great Tavern, Germeroth waited until we were all safely in his room before he allowed the Fallien to open the trunk. Leather pants, a loose cloth tunic, simple leather boots, and a thick black belt lay neatly in the top. Scoffing at this, I turned to the dwarf. “This is what we shook down that poor elf to get? Really!?” Germeroth’s face echoed the look he had given the merchant and I felt my throat tightened up. I shrugged and crossed the room, not willing to look at either of my companions.

“Master Maena’triel is not a friend to the cause,” the weathered brute explained. “But his services are still required nonetheless.” Feeling that was sufficient to appease me, he shifted the clothing to Germeroth’s bed and reached deeper inside the trunk. I waited with bated breath to see what else was in the mysterious box. Bhakti’mat smiled as his fingers closed around the object and he slowly pulled his arm from the trunk. Between his massive fingers, I caught a glimpse of ornate woodwork, but the colors struck me as odd. Greens, blues, and purples seemed part of the wood instead of merely coloring added afterward.

“What is that thing?” I questioned the room, hoping either of my friends would answer. Instead they both ignored me, Germeroth crossing to stand next to his bodyguard as the man lowered the object onto the small side table. As his hands slid away, I realized the thing was another box, but this one did not resemble a traveling crate at all. Instead, it looked more like a larger jewelry box, every side carefully carved and whittled as a demonstration of masterful woodworking. Just as I had thought, it appeared as though the actual wood was green, blue, and purple instead of the usual brown hues I was familiar with. The latches were crafted from some silver metal that worked nicely with the purple wood nearest them. Bhakti’mat rubbed his hands down the sides, his face betraying the open admiration he held for this box.

Germeroth deftly flipped open the lid, blocking my view of whatever was inside. He removed three smaller objects and quickly closed the lid again. Handing the contents to his friend, he pulled a key from the necklace tucked inside his shirt and locked the box. “This is a matter for others to discuss,” he said resolutely, letting me know there was little room for discussion. He nodded toward Bhakti’mat and they traded, the dark-skinned man taking the box back into his care as he handed the smaller objects to Germeroth. Without another word, the Fallien ducked out of the room, leaving me alone with the dwarf.

As the door shut once again, Germeroth opened his hands. Three small books greeted my eyes and the dwarf smiled at my confusion. He set one on the side table, handed one to me, and opened the third. “These are companion books,” he began. “The quill is hidden inside the spine, like this. Whatever is written in here will show up in any other companion book linked to this one. I’ll make sure Bhakti’mat gets his, but the other two we will share. Should we ever get separated, rely on this to communicate with me. Keep it on you at all times!”

Still wary of the entire ordeal from that morning, I let the companion book appease me for the moment. Clearly there was an entire other side to my friends, but I couldn’t afford to alienate myself by prying. If this was all Germeroth trusted me with at the moment, I would be sure to earn that trust. But even as we began talking again about the city and the marketplace, the mysterious box stayed stuck in my mind.

[Scarovese]

Later that evening, with Bhakti’mat gone on some secret mission, Germeroth and I made an appearance in the tavern portion of El'inssring. I had been to bars before, so I knew what to expect; drunk guys hitting on pretty girls, those creepy dudes sitting in the corner staring at everyone, and perhaps some loose words landing on the wrong ears and starting a fight. As we walked into the Great Tavern, I was sorely disappointed. The scale of the room was staggering; a vaulted ceiling rose nearly thirty feet above the tavern goers at its peak and a balcony wrapped around the room on three sides. Doorways led away from the balcony, presumably to rooms, and a lavish staircase allowed for a high volume of traffic to move between the floors. There were two actual bars, one on either side of the stairs, and tables scattered all about the room. Most of the tables were large enough to seat twenty or more patrons at a time, but alcoves along the other walls allowed for a more private seating arrangement. The floor was hardwood, but its color had been altered by the constant spilling of drinks and the occasional mopping of blood. I followed Germeroth to a table just outside the main area and we settled down to eat.

As the dwarf ordered food and drink for us, I couldn’t help but scan the crowd and take in the local color. It was a cross-section of the city; mostly drow crowding around the bar with a few humans scattered about and largely dwarves sitting at the tables with a few humans scattered about. Here and there I caught a glimpse of much stranger races, mentally noting their appearance to questions Germeroth later. It was still shocking to see elves, dwarves, and the like, but if the people of Alerar could handle it so calmly, I figured I could too. As the young elven barmaid scurried away, her olive skin and jet black hair certainly catching my attention for an instant, I turned back to my companion. “Can I ask about the books now?” I blurted out, for the dwarf had remained mute on the subject for some time now.

“Aye,” he replied and produced his companion book. Sliding a fingernail along the spine, he caught the hidden quill and removed it deftly. It took me some time to mimic his actions, but eventually I got a feel for it. “Now,” he instructed, “write something in it.” He placed the book on the table between us, its pages facing me. With deliberate movement, he leaned across the table and placed his quill as far away as he could reach. I thought for a moment before taking quill to page and scrawling, Four score and seven year ago… I had to laugh; why had that been the first thing to mind? I put the book and quill down on the table and look up at Germeroth’s book. There, being scribbled across the page in my same handwriting, were the words I had written in my own book.

“Whoa,” I breathed, this was my first glimpse of actual magic taking place. For although the concept was essentially crude text messaging, this world had taken me back to simpler thoughts. The mere act of transporting words across space was beyond me; there was no way I was going to invent cell phones in this land. However, these books would be invaluable to us the same way I had never gone anywhere without my phone while on Earth. “How many of these books are there?”

The dwarf twirled a portion of his beard around a thick finger as he counted aloud, “Yours, mine, Bhakti’mat’s, and Master Black’s. Trusting, of course, that the Fallien delivers everything without any trouble.” My mind began to race once again, but Germeroth gave me no pause to speak. “Those four books are linked, anything written in one will show in all the others. However, I know not how many more companion books exist beyond these.” He dropped his voice and his eyes darted around the room briefly, “It took a great deal for that merchant to drum up these four specimens.” His serious tone dropped and the glint returned to his eyes. “I know you’ll have questions, Scar. But believe me, it will all be explained in due time. Enjoy your drink, for tomorrow we will begin gathering the information you so desire.” With a wink, he rose and walked over to another group of dwarves, greeting them heartily and thumping them each of the back. Their conversation rose boisterously above the din of the tavern, but I turned my attention inward. Until I went to bed later that evening, I thought about recent events and tried to piece together what they all could mean.

[Scarovese]

Wearing leather pants was going to take some getting used to. They were much more snug than my dress pants and made moving a bit of a challenge. Germeroth assured me that I would grow accustomed to the foreign clothing, but I wasn’t convinced. The tunic was like wearing an over-sized tshirt, the boots were extremely comfortable, and the belt was nearly identical to what I wore everyday as a realtor. But the pants? I was not a fan. In fact, I felt the leather adhering to my skin as we stood outside Ankhas, the great library, staring up the steps at the giant archways in the midday sun. “Do they just let anyone in there?” I asked the dwarf by my side. “Or do we get to sneak in?”

He gave me a sideways look before snorting through his beard and shaking his head. “Want to go crawling through the sewers, do you?” I grimaced at the thought; Mission Impossible was much more what I had been thinking. Grappling hooks and magnetic boots, the stuff of spy movies. These thoughts made me sigh again, thinking of home. More little things to miss.

“No,” I finally responded. “We can skip the sewers.” The dwarf nodded and led the way up the long staircase, wide enough for twelve men to walk abreast. It narrowed ever so slightly toward the top and then opened up into a beautiful courtyard before the giant door to the actual library. At this height, the massive archways that reached into the sky were merely elevated planters. Flora of all kinds poured from within the stonework and snaked their way down to the ground. Trees were planted strategically throughout the area, surrounded by grass and tall plants in most places. Here and there a small pond gave sanctuary to a variety of fish and frogs, tucked away behind curtains of cattails and ferns. I stood still in wonder, forcing the other library-goers to find their way around me.

“Come along,” the dwarf chuckled, taking my elbow to lead me through the gorgeous courtyard. We entered the library proper through the main doorway, its foot-thick door mercifully open during the daytime. What force could move such doors? Did they have Bhakti’mat’s family working here as doormen? The thought alone put a smile on my face that only widened as I got my first look at the library interior.

If the outside had been a grand display of the gardening prowess of the Alerarians, then the inside was an even more impressive display of their accumulated knowledge. It would take years to even read the titles of every volume held here; I had no idea how many more books lay out of my view. Bookshelves soared impossibly high, nearly dwarfing the archways that made up the walls of the library. Ladders sporadically made their way along the shelving, allowing those in librarian garb easier access to unreachable books. Long banquet tables were littered all over the ground floor with young elves and humans alike studying at them. There was a low hum of activity throughout the building, but no one made even a whisper as we walked in. I had been in churches louder than this. There were large signs plastered everywhere, with directions and instructions to help visitors find what they were looking for. The giant dome that stretched across the entire library sparkled as the sun sliced through colored glass to illuminate those below. The midday sun beaming directly overhead meant that the large, carved desk in the center of the room was painted an interesting shade of red and blue. I whirled about, inwardly chastising myself for looking like such a tourist, but outwardly unable to contain my admiration. Here was the collective knowledge of an entire nation; I was giddy.

[Scarovese]

The sun had inched closer and closer to the horizon as Germeroth and I flipped page after page, sitting at a long table deep within the underground recesses of the library. I sighed as I shut the cover of the thirteenth book I had perused, no luck in this one either. “Having better luck?” I asked across the table where the dwarf consulted three separate books at once.

“I may have found something,” his voice trailed off as he spun the smallest of the books around for me to read. “I don’t want to color your opinion though, read this first.” I pulled the book closer to me and skimmed the passage he indicated:

“Shin’dril returns!” Shambling to their predetermined locations, the zombie rank and file quickly shaped up into something almost resembling a true army. The dark elf strained his neck to see who he assumed was the necromancer in charge of the horde. Shin’dril appeared to be human, he carried himself proudly and with an air of disdain for the zombie underlings who served him. His dark staff clicked on the stone floor as he strolled up a rock jutting out over the sea of undead faces. “We march out now to meet Xem'zûnd in Eluriand!” When the cheers died down, the necromancer continued. “Legion Clades,” he called to a specific section of the army, “lead the way. Slay any who stand in our path. Raiaera will fall!”

“Alright,” I let the word hang longer than necessary, unsure what exactly I was supposed to take from the book. Keeping Germeroth’s place with my finger, I flipped over to the cover, hoping to gain a clue from the title, The Corpse War, Volume I. “What is this?” I asked, sliding the journal back across the table to my companion.

“The Corpse War was a great attack on the elven capital in Raiaera a few years back. A great and powerful necromancer raised an army to assault the capital of the elves. There were a great many players in the war, but that’s all that’s important for now.” He marked the page and closed the book, replacing it with a much larger one and sliding it back in front of me. “Read this passage next.”


In the meantime, the island colony of Tor Elythis forms the bastion of resistance in the east, facing off against the undead forces of the Legion Clades corrupting Timbrethinil Forest and surrounding the cities of Anebrilith and Galonan. Their drow lieutenant loses control of Nenaebreth to a splinter force from the colony, combined with the volunteer levies of the Legion of Light… the first true sign of hope for the beleaguered defenders since the war began.

I shut the book, being sure to mark my place as I had seen Germeroth do. The words tumbled about in my head, arranging and rearranging as I tried to make sense of it all. Germeroth had seen a connection here to the book that had brought me to Althanas. Something here must have a meaning then, but I couldn’t decide what that meaning was. “What did you see in these passages?” I questioned my friend. Twirling a piece of his beard around a finger, he seemed startled that I was speaking to him.

“Well,” he huffed. “You need the third piece!” He handed me the final book, containing the shortest description yet.


To hear the late Shin'dril's name from this dark elf gave Elmirah a twinge of disgust. Nonetheless, she straightened herself out, but kept her guard up. If he was a necromancer, then he was a fellow Death Lord. No doubt Xem'zûnd would want to meet this Drizaghar.

[Scarovese]

Bells chimed the end of operating hours for the library and attendants drifted through each level, rounding up those lost in their reading to usher them back into the city. We were no exception, a robed drow implored the students at tables around us to pack up their things and make their way toward the staircase leading back up to the main level. Germeroth waved a hand knowingly as the elf moved out way and the librarian gave a curt nod before moving on. The dwarf made a few last minute notes in a small ledger before dropping the books we had been using at the end of the table. He led me onto the stairs and up each step, my world still spinning wildly out of control as my mind raced to make sense of it all.

In my house on Earth, the book had contained an errant page emblazoned with the word ‘Drizaghar’. It had been the key which pulled me into the land of the dark elves. Now, we had found a record declaring Drizaghar to be an actual person. More than that, a necromancer. A necromancer who had commanded a horde during the greatest battle of the undead in recent history. But what did it all mean? Why had his name, now burned into the flesh of my arm, transplanted me from my world into this one? What possible connection did we have?

Germeroth was understandably silent on the walk home, guiding me with an arm on my elbow as we moved through the darkening streets of the steamy city. I barely knew where we headed, but the dwarf kept his wits about him and we wound up back at his room in the Great Tavern. I flopped down onto his bed, mumbling my apologies for taking his place, and drifted into a fitful sleep. Dreams of my beloved Stefania, of a sneering dark elf sorcerer, and of swirling words of power made me restless through the long night.

When I awoke, Germeroth was gone. I was swaddled in blankets with a damp cloth on my forehead, unsure of where exactly I was. The fitful dreams had faded almost entirely from my memory, only wisps remained. Fighting free of the covers, I sat up and glanced about the room. The dwarf’s possessions still littered the place, he hadn’t gone far. Rising unsteadily, I made my way to the door, swinging it open carefully and peering outside. There, sitting with his back to the wall opposite the door, was my dwarven ally.

“What happened?” I questioned groggily, my head pounding as though it would burst.

“We learned much in our journey yesterday,” he replied solemnly. His eyes rose to meet mine in a worried gaze. “I fear it may have been too much for you.” Patting the floor next to him, he continued, “What did you make of it all?”

The floorboards in the hallway creaked as I settled down beside him. “I honestly don’t know,” I sighed, shaking my head in a vain attempt to clear it. I cradled my face in my hands with elbows propped on my knees. “What does it mean that this Drizaghar marked me?”

“I know not,” the dwarf responded and I could hear the pain in his voice. He removed the small ledger from a pocket and flipped it open. “We only know that he commanded the Legion Clades in the Corpse War. I could find no mentions thereafter. The Spring of Retribution was a dark time for this land, but Raiaera certainly took the worst of it. A journey to that land may be in order, I fear.” His thick fingers gripped the pages tightly as his voice contracted. “But I worry what answers we will find there, my friend.” He turned his head to stare at me intently, his dark eyes calculating. “Do you really want to find out where this thing goes?”

I felt my heart skip a beat. The gravity of the situation began to dawn on me and my dreams came trickling back. The drow laughing with hatred in his eyes, my beloved Stefania reaching out toward me in desperation, and those inky tentacles snapping toward me to pull me ever onward. I scrambled to my feet, backing away from the dwarf. My heart racing, my eyes wide, I sprinted from the tavern, willing my body to take me far away from this pain. I clutched at the walls of the buildings as I passed, trying to drag myself onward even faster… I could not run quick enough. I sprinted past the familiar parts of the city and into alleys and streets I had never seen. As the dark elves of Ettermire strode about, going on with their lives, I crawled into a small alcove beneath a butcher shop, hugging my knees to my chest and cried.

I was not a thick-skinned warrior like Bhakti’mat, I was not a wizened adventurer like Germeroth. I did not belong here… and for the first time since I had arrived in Althanas, I truly missed my home.

[Logan]

Plot ~ 18/30

Story ~ 7/10 – On the one hand, you wove together a pretty decent tale. On the other hand, it didn’t really ‘wow’ me, hence the 7 instead of a higher score here. Still, I commend you on your ability to weave together enough to make it quite an interesting read.

Setting ~ 6/10 – I find it kind of funny, in a way, because you actually did such a great job making the setting come alive. At certain points, however, I felt like I needed something more as a reader from the setting. I did take into account how Scar wouldn’t interact with the setting the same as someone who was from Ettermire, or even Althanas, hence why you didn't score lower here. Just a little more interaction would be appreciated (I felt your ending actually did a decent job of utilizing the setting more than any post before it).

Pacing ~ 5/10 - Honestly, this is probably the one area I feel needs the most work. There was a significant jerkiness to the flow of the story, and it made me struggle to keep reading. The sequence with the merchant was great, but then your follow up in the hotel room felt forced and much, much too quick. You were building nicely, and then it just screeched to a halt. I hate car crashes.

Character ~ 23/30

Communication ~ 9/10 – From his memories of his life on Earth to his responses to Ettermire and Althanas locales and stories, you should not change a thing. Not only did you do an excellent job pulling in emotion through his communication, but you also pulled in emotion through the secondary characters.

Action ~ 7/10 – There were certain moments where the action in this thread was superb, such as the sequence with the dark elf trader. There were other moments, however, where the action I expected from either the dwarf or Scar was lacking. It just wasn’t, honestly, enough for me to score you higher here, but it definitely wasn’t bad either.

Persona ~ 7/10 - As I noted above in Communication, you did well pulling in Scar’s memories of Earth, and in how he responded to Althanas locales and content. The one things that would’ve helped you score higher here, in my opinion, would have been slightly more response from him to either the scene with the trader or the scene with the companion books. There was not enough of a rise from him in either situation, whereas, I would have expected more to be there.

Prose ~ 21/30

Mechanics ~ 7/10 – There were a few typos, and a few points where they caused me to have to re-read a line or paragraph to try to understand what you were trying to say. Still, the thread was largely error-free, and everything technically was quite sound.

Clarity~ 7/10 – It may seem unfair, actually, but I had to dock you some for feeling like the name burned into his arm was just pulled out of your rear. I know it wasn’t, and was actually planned, but as a reader that was how it came across. Consider this, why did nobody else make note of it? Seems like it might have given someone pause along the way. Also, the ending, it wasn’t super clear to me (initially) as to why he took off running, or even why the dwarf didn’t try to stop him.

Technique ~ 7/10 -You have a comfort level with your writing that is clear to see as a reader, and comfortable for the reader as well. Your style is unobtrusive to the flow of the story for the most part, and it is also easily readable. The only knock I have on your technique is at times it felt somewhat bland. I don’t want you to get all flowery or poetic, but I would like to see something a tad less generic at times.

Wildcard: 8/10 - It was a great read, and I loved the interaction with the dark elf trader. I loved the snippets of Althanas lore tied in through the library. Most of all, however, you earned an 8 here because of how you managed to break the fantasy/reality wall without it feeling forced or contrived. Great job.

Total ~ 70/100



Scarovese earns 1285 EXP and 244 GOLD.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.