A Kross and a girl called "Bess"

[SnootchyBootchykins]

Just outside of Concordia, I sat cross-legged in front of the pile of small stones that I'd spent the morning gathering from the river. With the sun high in it's arc, and a leafy tree shading me, I was comfortable enough to begin to arrange the stones in a spiral. The preparation for my walk was about to begin. I didn't want to leave Althanas, but I wanted to try and see if I could bring Jen in with me. Maybe I could at least let her know what was going on.

It was annoying not having any of my shamanic tools, but I could make do. I had the stones, and I carefully placed shards of quartz that I had found in Concordia around them. They weren't nearly large enough for me to use beyond this one walk, but I had a feeling that this one was the only walk I'd need to embark on for a while. I wished for a moment that I had paid attention to the episode of "Salute My Shorts" that showed the different ways to make fire without matches when I was a kid. If I could burn some fragrant branches, it would give me a familiar tether back to my body. With a sigh, I laid down with the spiral by me feet, closed my eyes and let my muscles relax. While my body rested, my mind walked.

My eyes are closed, but still I see. Now I know it's time, so I stand. An ache reaches up my legs and back and for a moment I am confused. Why does my spirit feel so old here? This is something new, but I step forward anyway, towards the spiral where my path has been set. When I get to the Well, I will drop the problem of this ache into the water with everything else. I never take burdens with me to the other worlds. Another step, and when I expect to step into the swirling path that will take me to my place of preparation, instead I encounter only a small pain, and a cold against the bottom of my foot. Looking down, my greatest fear is realized.

I had to find out the hard way that I couldn't walk on Althanas. Projecting my Astral self wasn't the problem. It seemed that I could dance around all I liked outside of my body, but I wouldn't be leaving this world anytime soon. Here, I wasn't Shaman. I was just a clever little witch. For a long while I sat before the spiral until tears began to gather in my eyes. Stones flew, scattering through the soft grass as I struck out. Standing, I left that place with a darkness on my back as I stumbled back to The Falconry. I had passed the small Concordian inn not long ago, and at the moment what I really needed was a drink.

I stopped whe I could smell the ale ad burnt timber aroma that hung around Althanas' inns like some cheap bathroom perfume. "Compare to White Diamonds!" I muttered bitterly as I thought of the image. Much like the lot lizards that used the stuff, your average Althanian wouldn't know the difference between White Diamonds and a bottle of week old piss. Wiping my eyes, I tried to summon some of the cheer that had fueled my first few days on Althanas. That was before the realization had sunk in that I wasn't going to get to see or talk to Jen, Ben or anyone else with names longer than three letters that I cared for again. No stopping in Richmond to whoop up on Andrew in Magic. No more chillin' in Terre Haute with Shyam and Petra. Karaoke in Huntsville with Vicky? Out the door. Twisting Patrick's nipple in California, until he cried and cried and I laughed and laughed? No way, Jose.

When I shoved open the door to The Falconry, I was in a foul mood. To this day, I blame that terrible mood for my next actions. I slumped onto a bar stool, rapping on the polished surface and let three gold coins fall with fatal "clink!"s. The tender had to be at least half orc, with a face that I seriously doubted even his mother loved. It looked like maybe his mother had whacked him in the noggin with a shovel once or twice. With maybe a little bit of a wince, I looked him right in the eye and said, "Yo. Gimme the strongest shot I can get with that." I then gestured to the gold that had been laid before him.

An innocent little glass of thick red liquid was placed before me, and I slammed it down. What tasted strangely like meat and caramel was my first hit of "Fool's Gold." My re-education of Corone, and perhaps the rest of my ideas of Althanas, was about to change vastly.

My first lesson: Why would a red drink be called "Fool's Gold"?

[Christina Bredith]

Poor Ogrid. No matter how many times the half-orc bartender found himself faced with first-timers trying The Falconry’s famous Fool’s Gold, often with disastrous results, it was a mere physiological fact that he was too slow to do anything about it. And so, mere seconds after serving a pretty blonde warrior a shot of the stuff, he found it repaid in full all over his pasty green features. While he moved quietly to wipe his face with the towel that was slung over his shoulder, the patron gagged, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue mightily in the process as if trying to air it out.

“What in the—” Christina looked momentarily as if she was going to yak up a hairball, but caught herself. “Is that… beef? How do you even get liquor that tastes like that?” The young woman wrinkled her nose and looked away, concentrating heavily on the horrid taste in her mouth. She wasn’t much of a drinker, granted, but even the hardiest of booze-hounds would have to take pause at drinking this little masterpiece from God’s gallery of mistakes. “That’s the last time I take a drink recommendation from a Haidian…”

This so-called Fool’s Gold had come quite highly recommended, and while Christina had initially wondered what could possibly have earned it that name, she was now fairly sure. Just like its namesake, she reasoned, the drink tricks you into thinking it’s worth a good god damn when it would be put to better use searing barnacles off the hulls of cruise ships. Fungi would wither and die in its presence. Corone could put this to use as a biological weapon, she thought, suddenly glad the so-called Empire that had recently sprung up had no knowledge of this little taste of hell. The Resistance would be over in a flash otherwise. Give me arsenic any day of the week.

“Sowwy fow zhe makheovew, Oggy,” came the blonde’s apology, obscured by the fervent scraping of her inner mouth with a finger. She finished a few seconds later, and sucked on her teeth for a moment longer. “If I ever order that drink again, you have permission to shove the glass down my throat and put me out of my misery. Hang on,” Christina reconsidered, putting a finger to her chin. “Make that, if I ever order that drink again for myself.” The potential was just too great to give up completely.

The half-orc nodded his head compliantly. He certainly didn’t seem too fazed by what had happened. Maybe he was just used to it, Christina reasoned. Then again, the man hardly ever spoke two words together so maybe he just couldn’t complain. Either way, she felt bad, so she placed a couple of extra gold pieces on the counter to compensate. Ogrid scooped up the payment with a dull nod, and then jerked his head in the direction of the menu with a grunt. Christina had long since learned that was his way of asking if she’d like anything else.

She shook her head. “No thanks, doll-face,” she said, always loving the irony of that nickname. “I think my taste buds need to regroup for a few months first.” The woman brought her hand through her hair, tossing a long lock of it back over her shoulder. She stood up and made her way across the room. That was enough drinking for one night, she reckoned; time to head back to the barracks.

But on the way, Christina’s sympathetic side kicked in as she saw a flash of red liquid in a glass get slammed down on the counter in front of another unsuspecting victim. Before the young warrior could even do anything to stop it, the woman had taken a drink, and Christina winced – poor Oggy was about to get drenched for the second time in one night! But seconds passed without incident. There was no sputtering, no gagging, no cries of bloody murder… she even heard a confused grunt come from Ogrid himself.

“Goodness, is your tongue made of silver or something?” she inquired playfully as she approached Amanda, craning her neck around to get a better look. “Though I’m pretty sure that stuff would degrade silver, too…”

[SnootchyBootchykins]

There was no denying that the ruby liquor had gone down a little like Jell-O, but on the whole it wasn't bad. I licked my lips, shoving the shot glass forward and motioning to the tender that I'd like another as a woman approached me. At her comments, I stuck out my tongue, crossing my eyes so that I could look down my nose to the silver barbell that was pierced through the oral appendage.

"Nope, not melted," I said cheerfully. The melancholy of earlier was slipping away as the last of the Fool's Gold slipped down my throat. Another glass of the stuff was placed in front of me and I paid for it, glancing at the tender as I did. Upon his orcish face was more confusion than was usually present, and just a touch of fear. Again, the glass went up, I closed my eyes and purred as I placed the glass down again, empty except for a small ring of red 'round the bottom.

"It's like filet mignon for dessert!" I said happily and turned to the blonde. She seemed familiar, but I couldn't place her just looking at her. Instead, I offered my hand. "Oyo, my name's Amanda. Have you tried this stuff? It's great. Very yummy. Like beef jerky and maple syrup."

As I sat there, trying to pay attention to the girl who had approached me, I found it harder and harder to pay attention. Snippets of conversation were breaking through my mind, not so easily ignored as the alcohol began to find it's way into my system. A few cloaked figures were going on about the war that was breaking out all over Corone. Another was muttering rumors of an alliance between Salvar and Alerar. But then there was another voice. Try as I might to place it, I couldn't see a single person in the room whose lips matched the cadence of the talk. It should have been a warning sign, I supposed, but the words were far too intriguing to ignore.

"She was always such a good girl. Don't know why she'd do this."

I frowned, turning on the stool so I could get a better look. There, in the corner, a couple sat. The man looked like your normal truck driver. Portly, with an unkempt beard and did I see what I thought I saw? Pit stains. Ew. Yep, definately a medieval truck driver; I knew my people. His wife, or so I assumed, was as round as he was, in a simple blue dress with white apron. Her hands were wrinkled and calloused, no jewelry adorning them. Simple, working class people, and the wife was crying quietly. It was my guess that she had been the one speaking.

"Mildred," the husband said quietly, patting one of those small, rough hands, "We'll find someone here who will help."

I stood, pausing for a moment as I used the stool as a cane and walked slowly, if not a little off centered, towards their table.

"What's going on here?" No, I'm not nosy. Or pushy. The wife looked up at me, her eyes darting back to her husband for a moment. I could see the doubt in her eyes, but the husband didn't pay attention. He talked, not really caring what his wife thought. He probably didn't think I had the gall to volunteer my help.

"Our daughter's run off to see an oracle." he said, "She's been gone a week and we're afraid for her life."

"Eh?" I said, scratching my head. "All this worry over a fortune teller?"

"This oracle is very powerful," Mildred interjected, "and accepts only life as payment. If he doesn't kill her himself, he'll turn our little girl into a murderer!" she said as her chest heaved upwards and she began to sob. I opened my mouth to voice my opinion that they had raised an idiot. Instead, different words poured from my lips.

"Hell, I'll go save her." I blinked, but then I realized what a great idea that was. I didn't know why. All I knew was that I was meant to do this. It was as if some hand, some meaty hand had come from the clouds and pointed at me, naming me as the messiah of this tottering simpleton. "You folks go home and make babies, and I'll bring her back shortly." I turned on my heel and began to stalk out, pausing at the door before I looked over my shoulder and gave my parting comment. "But make sure to make smarter babies." I opened the oaken portal to the sunlight and began to walk, not really caring that I didn't have much of a clue to what I was doing.

After I had left, someone at the bar turned to Og and asked the question that everyone who had ever ordered Fool's Gold inevitably asked at one point. "Hey man, why do they call this Fool's Gold?" Ogrid finished wiping out a shot glass and carefully set it on a shelf before shrugging.

"Seems make Fools go runnin' affer Gold dat ain't dere mos' times."

[Atzar]

“So what are we doing here again?” Zirkan inquired for about the tenth time in the last hour.

Atzar stuck to his latest scheme of coping with the dragon’s incessant chatter: silence. So far, it seemed to be working alright. While the little beast still voiced comments and complaints intermittently, they were now far less frequent. Pleased with this moderate success, the mage walked on.

Another question. “I’m tired. Can we stop soon?” Zirkan’s voice was whiny and plaintive.

The mage sighed. He wouldn’t admit it to his companion, but a full day of walking with no noteworthy breaks was starting to wear on him. Taking a look through the treetops at the late afternoon sun, Atzar acquiesced.

“Fine. When we get to the next inn, we’ll stop.”

“There’s a town of sorts that way, I believe,” the dragon offered helpfully, pointing to the left with one claw. “I can smell smoke.” Sure. Now that he was getting his way, Zirkan was perfectly willing to cooperate. Shaking his head in defeat, Atzar turned in the direction indicated.

The dragon’s senses, while impeccably timed, were also very accurate. Within a couple moments, the mage and his friend found themselves out of the forest and into the center of a collection of houses. It wasn’t big enough even to be called a village, but it did happen to have an inn. The Falconry. Atzar’s expectations weren’t high at all, but it would do for the rest of the day. He reached out to push the door open, but the door swung inward on its own.

Neat.

It proved to be no more than a coincidence, however. A short, brown-haired woman in her early twenties barreled through the door in its stead, and only a quick leap to the side saved the mage from being trampled. He opened his mouth to protest.

His tongue froze when his mind sensed something wrong. Judging by the slightly – okay, more than slightly - awkward gait, the girl was drunk, but she apparently didn’t notice or didn’t care. Her feet still carried her single-mindedly toward the forest, showing no sign of stopping for anything. As Atzar watched, his mouth twisted into a worried frown. She was alone, and she was drunk. It wasn’t exactly a safe combination. On an impulse, the mage turned away from the door and started to follow the disappearing figure of the young woman.

“But rest is this way,” the dragon protested loudly when his companion turned.

“You won’t die,” Atzar said shortly.

“She won’t either,” Zirkan retorted. “C’mon, I’m tired.”

“I just want to make sure.” Not bothering to argue any longer, the mage reentered the woods in pursuit. The blue dragon, not having much of a choice, exhaled bitterly and followed.

[Christina Bredith]

I'm sorry! I had a temporary case of writer's block (read: damn everything to do with words, reading, or writing) after exams, but I'm better now! I hope I'm still welcome. ^^;;

It was with some amazement and no small measure of surprise that Christina watched Amanda down yet another glass of Fool’s Gold. Her silvery eyes were wide with shock at this extra-terrestrial of a woman in front of her. She must have been just that! How could anyone from Althanas find the taste of liquid beef enticing – and worse, worth seconds? Christina was plainly entranced. Any woman who could scare Ogrid – the poor half-witted bartender was just as shocked as she was, in his low-brow, half-lidded way – was worthy of some due consideration.

“Wow!” she exclaimed as Amanda finished the second drink. “You should thank the faerie that speared your tongue like that.” Okay, so the concept of tongue piercings was a bit foreign to Christina. “I think he must have killed some of your taste buds. Oggie! Thirds for her, and this one’s on me!” The blonde slapped her hand on the counter demandingly, but in a jovial manner.

“Well, Amanda,” she said at last, turning back to her new companion, “the name’s Christina and it’s a pleasure, I’m sure.” Amanda’s recount of the odd drink’s taste triggers Christina’s gag reflex, though, and she scrunches up her face. “Let’s just say it’s an acquired taste.”

It was a taste Amanda wasn’t willing to give another chance to, apparently, as she stood up shortly thereafter, attracted by something, a scent perhaps, that Christina hadn’t detected. Was there some kind of supersonic whistle for strange out-of-town women? The blonde watched in wonder as her new drinking partner (read: person who’s fun to watch while she drinks bizarre orcan delicacies) hobbled over to a pair of greasy farmers minding what would soon no longer be their own business.

Ogrid placed another glass of Fool’s Gold in front of Christina, and she wrinkled her nose. “Too late to cancel it, huh? Umm…” The woman hopped up from her stool and began edging her way over toward the eavesdropping Amanda. She smiled nervously at the half-orc and shook her head. “Happy birthday, Oggy! It’s on me!” And then she was gone.

“—doesn’t kill her himself, he’ll turn our little girl into a murderer!” She had caught the tail-end of that sentence when she finally got close enough to the table to pay attention.

“Hell, I’ll go save her,” responded her befuddled companion.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire Christina had gone. As much as the thought of another sip of Fool’s Gold disgusted her, she had even less desire to traipse around the countryside in search of what sounded to be some kind of murderer-pimp. At the same time, Amanda was hobbling out the door to what Christina knew was her certain doom.

Well, it’s not really my problem, she thought, placing a hand on her hip. If that crazy broad wants to get herself killed, then so be it. But Amanda wasn’t carrying any weapons that Christina could see… and she certainly didn’t seem like the type who could take care of herself in the wilderness. Christina was better suited for that…

Oh, damn my conscience to Haidia! Before logic could make its finishing remarks, the blonde warrior found herself scurrying to catch up with Amanda. “Honey,” she remarked as she got closer, placing herself in front of Amanda, face-to-face, and walking backwards in time with her. “Hi! Me again. Um, quick question before you go… are you drunk right now, or just crazy?”

[SnootchyBootchykins]

Somehow, as I tromped along the edge of Concordia, the sun seemed brighter, the canopies that sprawled lazily over me seemed all that more emerald. I could feel strength pouring down from the sun, filling all five feet and change that I had to my name. There wasn't a single thing that this thing could do but lay at my feet and grovel, I knew. Not knowing anything about this oracle, I wasn't sure how I knew it. I must have been psychic without knowing it all this time.

Suddenly, Christina was before me, walking backwards in almost perfect step to me. I smiled cheerfully at her, even as she asked her question. It was kind of rude, thinking about it, but I let it slide. Instead, I actually gave her some serious thought. I didn't think I was drunk. I had only had two shots, and I was pretty sure that I wasn't crazy. Then again, I did belong to a religious sect whose name meant "Those Who Walk Between Worlds". I was also talking to fictional characters in the flesh. I tried to think of how I might react if someone called me and said "Yeah, today I had a lunch date with Harry Dresden, but I'll be damned if that Huck Finn didn't steal my wallet again."

"I think," I said to Christina, pausing only a moment to look over my shoulder at a strange scratch of nail on rock, "I might just be utterly bonkers. Hold on."

The trees that lined the path were foreign to me, big squat things with heavy boughs that grew low. They were easy to climb, and growing together closely so that I could move across them with little difficulty. I had always been a tomboy growing up, spending more time in trees and on rooftops than on the ground. Now, I was remembering my childhood, delighted in the way I seemed to be getting back into the groove of hopping from branch to branch, anticipating the sway and bounce of the the boughs. I had gotten all of two feet, when something strange happened.

I missed.

Now, I was pretty sure I wasn't drunk. Somehow, a stray gust must have come through and moved the branch under me at just the right moment. I fell fast, tumbling over, my back slapping against branches as I fell. I landed hard, a crack ringing through my ears. I couldn't really pay much attention to that, however. I was more concerned with the fact that I suddenly couldn't breathe. I rolled to the side, coughing, and looked back down the road at what I had seen and had been trying to sneak back onto. I pointed my finger at a man and a small blue dragon, a dragon that I recognized.

"I want to know why you're following me!" I said, defiance in my voice, melding with the pain and wheezing. "And you, sir Zirkie, look nothing like a kangaroo!"

[Atzar]

Had he been paying more attention, the mage would have undoubtedly wondered how the tipsy girl knew Zirkan. Relating ‘sir Zirkie’ to a kangaroo, however, was just too much. Atzar doubled over in a sudden fit of laughter before his little blue friend’s tirade even got under way.

“Sir Zirkie? Kangaroo?!” The dragon spluttered incoherently for a moment as numerous comebacks forced themselves from his maw simultaneously. “Insolent wretch of a half-drunk human… I’m a dragon, understand? I’m a dragon!” Zirkan paused to get his breath when he picked up on the oddity that his human friend had missed completely.

“Wait a minute,” the blue dragon said, suddenly at ease. “How do… would you shut up already?” he interrupted himself, rounding on the mage with a glare.

Atzar took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking, but he couldn’t resist throwing in his own sarcastic retort. “Sorry… sir Zirkie.”

Zirkan gave his friend a withering look before returning to his original question. “How do you know me?” he asked the girl intently.

The mage then remembered the girl’s original question. “I was just… making sure you’re alright, I guess,” he said with an embarrassed shrug. “You were headed out in the middle of nowhere all alone, and I thought I’d make sure nothing happened. It looks like it… might have been a good idea.” He noted her position on the forest floor with a raised eyebrow.

Atzar’s gaze then drifted over the attractive blonde with more than a hint of curiosity. The mage decided not to ask for an introduction, however. He was the one intruding on their business, after all… whatever it was.

Sorry for the wait!

[Christina Bredith]

Christina had feebly tried to stop Amanda from scurrying into the tree like a great, hairless squirrel, but her cautions had fallen on deaf ears. Now, the blonde was not exactly accustomed to worrying about strangers, but she was even less accustomed to having them ignore her advice anyway. How was Christina to know that the extraterrestrial girl was actually clambering away in search of someone that had been following them? They were not far outside the town, after all, so passers-by were common. As far as she knew, Amanda was just a slightly-drunk woman trying to play the part of a monkey – not a smart move in the soberest of moments but absolutely insane after a couple of shots of Fool’s Gold.

She might have known that the woman would fall flat on her back, and Christina’s face wrinkled as her new charge’s falling body rolled off each branch on the way down, changing direction unpredictably in the process. She hopped over to see if the girl was okay once she was fully down, and it was admittedly with some regret that she found Amanda still conscious – she wished no harm on the girl, naturally, but if she was blacked out then Christina would at least have due cause to drag her back into Underwood to rest. Maybe then she’d see the folly in all this.

Apparently they weren’t alone, however, and the way Amanda didn’t miss a beat suggested this was exactly why she was climbing the tree in the first place. She had demanded an explanation from and forcibly pointed her finger at someone who had been approaching from behind. Christina immediately turned and rested her right hand across her body on the hilt of her sword, while with her left arm she motioned for Amanda to stay behind her.

A young man stood there, harmless enough in his average appearance except for the blue dragon perched on his shoulder. Christina watched him carefully, and though she could see no reason to suspect him of wrongdoing, Amanda certainly seemed to think he was of the stalkerish breed, and it was even possible that she knew him. But what on earth is a ‘kangaroo’?

When Atzar finally spoke, Christina relaxed her stance, now sympathetic to this young man’s presence here, since he was here for the same reason she was – assuming he was telling the truth, of course. His words had also revealed that "Sir Zirkie" referred to the dragon, and not to him. That, however, was the one piece still didn’t fit into place: “That’s a good question…” she noted serenely, tilting her head at Amanda. “How do you know his pet lizard but not him?”

[SnootchyBootchykins]

As I stood, brushing the seemingly packed in dirt off my clothing, I sneered for a moment and then snorted. How could I not have known the dragon? I drew him for Christ's sake. I had spent an hour staring at a kangaroo for a body reference, wondering how the marsupial would look with two leathery appendages stuck haphazardly across it's bowed back. Thinking about it now, I had to laugh. The end result didn't look quite like the defiant little beast that I was staring at now. My giggles quickly subsided, and I waved my hand dismissively at both of the 'characters' that now stood before me.

"Psh, you were my greatest challenge as an artist, Zirkan. I should have just done a naked Miss Christina here. But then again, she's look and don't touch. Don't touch the rose! Or smell it. I can never remember your signature." My rambling and turned to mumbling, and I held my head for a moment before looking once again down the path. My eyes narrowed, and I could have torn my hair out with how angry I suddenly was. Here I was, chatting away with lizards and ladies (and Atzar, I supposed), when I was supposed to be saving some bar girl's sorry ass.

Where was this oracle again?

I had no idea where I was going, or what I was going to do when I got there. The only information I had was that the oracle was powerful. It was all I ever needed, and I had only just begun to realize it. Somehow, I thought, I was still writing, even though I was here. I knew of an oracle that fit the description that had been mentioned in an abandoned quest on Tanthanas, when I was still a really sorry writer. Think AIM-style asterisks around all my actions kind of writer. Somehow it still annoys the hell out of me that I ruined the one good impression I had to make, but I was seventeen and stupider then than I am now. Either way, we were wasting time and there was a life in danger. We'd need a faster way to move than our feet. A slow grin spread across my face and I began to giggle again, this time the sound higher and far more maniacal than I had intended it to be. After all, we were in the cradle of Concordia, and I of all people knew what sort of transportation could be found here.

"Now, are you guys going to stop gawking or are you going to help me get us some steeds? We need our Binkys, Toronados and Silvers, peeps!"

[SnootchyBootchykins]

I had some vague knowledge that I was hella confusing as I turned from my companions and started to trot off by myself. I couldn't help it. I didn't have the patience to explain everything to them. They wouldn't believe me, or they would need answers that I couldn't give them. Above all, they might ask me to tell it again. I can't stand to repeat myself. After all, anything worth saying is worth hearing. Something like that. My brain was muddled by the Fool's Gold. It was hardly a time to spend finding the perfect parable to fit the Kodak moment.

I had been jogging along at a pace I wasn't used to keeping up when I decided to slow down, my arms raised so that I could pull air into my lungs. I couldn't tell you right off how many years it had been since I'd done daily running, sprinting on a tennis court. Enough that I was out of shape, and it hadn't taken a quarter of a mile to tell me that. I was a little embarrassed that I had to take my pace down to a quick walk, and I was beginning to wonder if that wasn't just a little too fast.

For a moment, I started to say something to my companions, but realized that my awkard jog and earlier madness would have brought laughter and more questions. Strangely, the forest around me was silent. There should have at least been one befuddled, "Binky?" at my reference to Death's horse. Stopping on the trail, turning slowly, I was puzzled to find I was alone.

"Hello?"

Had they decided that this was nothing but a suicide mission? I frowned, shoving my glasses up farther on my nose. It appeared that this quest was mine alone.

[SnootchyBootchykins]

How long did I expect to survive in Althanas? I was sure the companions who had so unceremoniously disappeared were wondering the same thing. Maybe that was why they had turned back, certain that I would never make it far enough into my quest to face certain doom. Walking along the forested road, I thought over a lot of things, mostly the movie Labyrinth.

"One road leads to the castle!" I said in a mock of the strange guards a young Jennifer Connoly had faced. "And one road leads to...certain doom!" I paused. Had it been certain death? Either way, it didn't matter. What was I walking into? My logic was starting to override the Fool's Gold. I had no weapons, no armor, no skills. At the same time, however, this was Althanas. I'd been toying with a concept since I'd come here. I was the writer, the creator of so much in my quests. Would I have that same power of will now that I was here. A slow grin spread on my lips, until I was laughing to myself on that forested path, no one to hear me but the trees.

"At first I was afraid, I was petrified..." I started to sing to myself as I turned away from the path where a few crimson blossoms framed a small split between two trees. When I had stepped through the bushes, I was standing at a faint path. It at first appeared to just be a rocky seam through the vegetation, but a closer inspection and I knew I'd been right. Every few yards, petals as red as a geisha's lips were winking through thick bushes, wound around the trunks of saplings. Further down the road, where the rocky path could no longer be seen, branches of a mighty oak dipped down, dappled with the tell tale red.

My song had descended into a rambling hum, but with my discovery, my happiness brought the song back to my lips.

"But I! I will survive! As long as I know how to love, I know I'm still alive!" I giggled as I moved to run to the next "checkpoint" in the path, but before I could take the first step, my ears caught the sound of soft clapping, and then a voice.

"Now that's a philosophy that I could respect."

[SnootchyBootchykins]

I knew what I was up against before I even turned around. There were more than a few things that could be counted on in this life, and knowing your own story was one of them. Of course it would be a Moontae behind me. After all, I was following the trail of Soema, the bright red hints that would lead me right where I wanted to be - at the gate of the enigmatic race. The voice itself was rich, like a melody composed of chocolate, if chocolate could be made into sound. Deep and dark, but with a strange hint of sweetness. I had described that voice once before, in an old composition notebook, tucked now into one of four boxes that held my every worldly possession back on Earth.

"I agree, Seliel." My voice was soft, like a greeting that had been long overdue to an old friend. He was in a way. After all, he had once been very important. So important, in fact, that I was ashamed I'd forgotten him over the years it had been since he'd barreled through Ayenee, plundering and wooing women he damn well had no intent on ever pleasing. My rogue Moontae, to whom sex did not make the world go round. Love was a different story.

I heard the soft rustle of leaves and a light trample behind me. He'd come down from the trees. I had often envisioned that sight in my mind, and I had missed it this time. Instead, fear and wonder held me in place. With any other Moontae I would have turned and faced them, stood unafraid because I knew them so intricately. Seliel was my wild card. I knew him, but I doubted I could ever truely know him the way I had Natamrael, Skie, Illaniel, Mansematiel, Gremmiel, Magus, Garantial, and Clemial wrapped around me like soft coats.

"Skyknight, put your weapon down," I said, taking a deep breath. There was a pause in the soft brush of steps on the grass.

"What makes you think I bear arms?" he asked, and I could hear him laughing at me. It was a laugh that would soothe you, no matter what the circumstances were. His laugh was his magic, really. He could be gutting me alive, and if he laughed, I'd laugh too. I'd known a man once with that kind of laugh. Maybe that was where it came from in my mind, immortalized with Seliel. Tears were already filling my eyes when I turned, to see a blade hovering a few feet at eye height. He laughed again, not an ounce of guilt at being caught in his eyes.

He was beautiful. He stood at eight feet tall, though the height was mostly accounted for the fact that his deliciously human body stopped at the waist, instead, continuing on to reveal a decidedly centauric form. The equine body was built like a wall, a solid mass of muscle graced by the things that had made him so lovely in my mind. Six wings - one set upon his human back and two upon the back of the horse - were undulating, slowly stirring the breeze around us as he fanned them. He was staring at me now in something I assumed was curiosity. His weapon had lowered a bare few inches, but then again I knew better than other people that putting it down was nearly impossible for him. His baby blues were boring a hole right through me, and I couldn't help but twitch and fidget under that gaze. When I finally did meet his eyes, I couldn't look away. My tears began to fall freely, and I felt for the first time as if I were a criminal for having created this man.

"You know so much about this area and it's people," he said, a pointed accusation. "Why are you here?"

And that, really, was the sixty four million dollar question.

[SnootchyBootchykins]

"Juliette sent me," I said softly. He'd stayed at a distance until now, but the sword was put away, at a sheathe that was hard to see at his waist because the wings and the large horse's hooves took up most of the attention. My tears were coming faster, harder, when I saw hurt in his eyes for the first time.

Juliette had been his mother. The centauress had been the prize of a previous Moontae King, Skie and Avery's grandfather. He'd fathered a few children by her, but so had other Moontae. That was the problem with my beautiful race, really. When monogamy gets in the head, it can rip one apart. Juliette, with her ideas of free love, fit in perfectly with the Moontae, much to the old king's distress. When Seliel came, his wings feathered instead of the glittering scale that was the Moontae normality, he knew exactly who the father was. There was only one Moontae lineage that had feathered wings, and it was far from the Family Tree of the Chieftain. Juliette had been killed cruelly, without love or mercy. I know. I wrote it. Seliel had been there, as well as her other children, crying piteously. It made me wonder how many other crimes my pen and my keyboard had committed against my own creations. As far as divine will goes, life sucks under my rule.

His hooves had taken him before me now, but neither of us had spoken. What was there to say? 'Sorry I killed your mom, but now I need to use you and your bretheren in degrading servitude? Kthnxbai?' Ha. I'd be eaten for lunch, a Shish-Ka-Manda on several long swords. Now to think. I'm not the brightest bulb in the marquee, yeah I'll admit it. Still, every once in a while, I've got a few gems up my sleeve, little diamonds in the rough. I used to lament that most of my wit and cunning had to do with Althanas, today maybe it was serving me well.

"She came to me in a dream last night," I said, "because I'm having a lot of troubles." He nodded, grunting as he reached out. I only flinched a little, promise. Instead of hurting me, he took the glasses off my face. I think he was examining them, but the scene blurred, and all I saw was blobs of color. It was like looking at a watercolor picture someone had painted with too wet a brush. I stayed silent.

"She helps me with troubles in my dreams, too," he said quietly, placing the glasses on my face again. He poked me in the ear trying to get the lopsided things back against my nose, but I didn't complain. The pain was still clear as a bell on his face. I might just get what I want. "Why did she come to you?" he asked. I could see why he might ask. It's not like she dropped me from her vagoo like her sons had been dumped so unceremoniously on Moontae soil.

"I need to get somewhere quick," I said. Why not be honest? This is the closest thing to an Althanas Enterprise Rent a Car I could think of anyway. "And it's for something she's really worried about. She said I could find someone to help me." At least now I wasn't lying. Juliette had never been in my dreams, but she knew something of oracles; she was one. Seliel's face showed interest, so I dug through my memories. It was the only thing that was going to save me from skewering now. "I need to get to..." I paused, a cold sweat moving down my spine. Could I remember the name? It had been so long... "Josian."

Bingo. Seliel's eyes widened, something dark moving in their depths.

[SnootchyBootchykins]

"I will not bear you over the eastern mountains." Seliel said, his tone firm and unyielding. It was a sentence sharp enough to break my heart and hard enough to grind it to bits. We stood for what seemed like a long time, though it couldn't have been a full minute. Time was a way of doing that, standing still at the strangest moments. Maybe it was because I felt I couldn't breath, or because my heart had fallen to rest somewhere beside my spleen. I guessed I was shit out of luck, but at least I guessed wrong.

"I have a brother who doesn't mind bearing your kind across the skies." His voice was more relaxed now, laughing at me. It was okay, he could laugh and gloat all he wanted, as long as he gave me what I wanted. Taking my elbow in hand, I was guided through the forest, still following the Soema trail. There were a few times when I strained my eyes, desperately seeking the walls around the Moontae portal, but I saw nothing but trees and fern. The stray call of birds and cicadas masked anything else that might have come through the rustling branches ahead, my footsteps on the grass and the crunch as Seliel's hooves cut through soft topsoil into the rockier earth underneath. We shared a comfortable silence as we walked, but not comfortable enough for me not to hesitate when he pulled me off the path and into the taller grass.

I tripped and stumbled through the tangle of stalk and stem as he led me towards more like him. The great multi-winged centaurs were laughing at my struggle, and really, it wasn't fair! I was cleaving a way though the grass like a long-overdue lawnmower, and yet I couldn't make out where the Moontae Skyknights - with their great hooves and massive muscles - had even taken one step. Not a single stem of long grass had been trampled down by them, as if the field itself lived only for their footsteps. I twas probably true. The Moontae had a funny way of doing things to all life - flora and fauna. It made the older ones impossible to track, but then again, none of the Moontae lives I'd written had lived that long. It made me wonder what was happening to my stories while I was here, or to neglected families and storylines while I was focusing on others. After all, the only Skyknight I'd ever written about in detail was standing at my side; the others were as good as strangers to me.

It was the confidence that pointed out Seliel's brother to me. They had the same swagger, the same way of throwing back their shoulders to stand straight and imposing. He was all black, in a way that reminded me of a quote from Legend. 'Black as midnight, black as pitch, blacker than the foulest witch...' The equine body was charcoal, the hair of his head and tail a deep matte black. His skin was so dark that it seemed to hold blue highlights instead of brown, and his eyes were nothing less than obsidian whirlpools, threatening to draw me in. To say that he was beautiful wouldn't have quite covered it. From the silver and steel wound into his long dreads, to the charming, tempting, dangerous smile on his face, he was heavenly.

"Are you not the most loathsome of my goblins?" I whispered, Legend returning to me. If any of the Skynights heard me, they never showed it. I finished another line in my mind, the last words dying in my head as Seliel's brother - who I was to find out was called Adoniel - let his lips slide into a smile that could only have been worn by a predator.

And is your heart not black and full of hate?

[SnootchyBootchykins]

I had never quite wrapped my legs around anything as muscled or unusual as Adoniel. The thought, as scandalous as it was, helped to keep our journey fresh in my mind. Somewhere over Concordia I'd nearly lost my lunch. I thought, when I'd climbed onto the unicorn-pegasus-thing's back, that I could handle it. I'd flown by plane before from Texas to California. A distance shorter than that would be a cakewalk, right? Wrong. What I had neglected to factor in was that I would not be squished against the window by a wide, snoring woman as I tried to recline back in the creaking, narrow business class seats. I would not be able to complain about thin padding beneath my tailbone. Instead, I got an experience that was precious, amazing, and made Southwestern Airlines look like heaven.

The muscles of six wings working in patterns I was sure would solve a Rubix Cube was disorientling, and as I burned my face into the thick locks of Adoniel's hair my fingers and nails dug into his shoulders for dear life. I'd heard him chuckle when he first took to the air, my knees clamping down tightly at his sides. I'd squeaked, nearly sobbing when my fears of slipping from his back seemed to nearly come true. I could almost feel the glee flowing from him like the scent of salt and herbs from his hair.

"The Mountains are not far," he said. I had a feeling if my ear hadn't been partially resting on his back I wouldn't have heard it. I was cold, and terrified, and there was no way I was going to look. Risking the loss of my glasses wasn't worth it. Ten bucks said Radasanth's Bazaar had everything but a Lenscrafters. I don't know how long we flew like that, with me shaking, numb and clinging to him like a snake that had bitten down and wouldn't let go. It felt like more than an hour, with my thoughts churning in my mind, full of regret and wishes and wonder. The rushing wind had been tearing at his dreadlocks, pulling them evermore from my face. The longer we flew, the more were whipped away, until I could see snow-capped peaks of craggy grey.

Leaning back, I could see far beyond, in a haze through thin clouds, the sea. I couldn't make out the other side of the mountains yet, for we'd only just begun to clear the spires of stone and I started to relax. By now I was moving with the wing muscles under me, no longer digging nails into his flesh for a grip. Below us wasn't only rock, and I would have missed the best sights had I still been hiding my face at his back. Trying to sightsee around six wings and a bunch of hair isn't the easiest thing to do, and I held onto my glasses tightly as I peered down. Dips and valleys were filled with deep verdant canopies, flashes of mountain streams and rivers as they rushed under us. Ahead, I could see something pale - like a low cloud - floating in the trees, and like a fool, I craned over Adoniel's shoulder so that I could see it better. My brows furrowed into a look of sheer disbelief, and as I opened my mouth to speak, the Moontae Skyknight lost every cool point those dreads had earned him in my book.

I'd once loved a man who insisted that the choices we make end up making us the people we are, and so therefore, nothing should be regretted. It's not a bad philosophy to live by, if you could ignore the fact that he only whipped out his adage of regret-free living when I caught him cheating - each and every time. Despite the fact that I know his defense was paper-thin, it was still something I had learned over my years with him to keep close to my heart. It went well with my ideas of karma, and the never ending circle of justice. Make good choices, and in turn, you will be blessed with good things. Leaning up to look at the abnormality in the trees just then would have been a bad choice. As I took my weight from where it had been centered on his equine back and to the side, with the intentions of settling back after a moment's observation, he moved in a way that he hadn't before. Midair, moving faster than a horse on land (but still a bit slower than Superman) he decided to rear back. He used the wind in his wings like a parachute, his back arching, the equine seat I had been occupying dropping out as his hind legs were tucked under his body.

I couldn't curse when I fell, or scream. It was a little unfair, because I think one utterance of "FUCKTARD!" is warranted in a situation like that. Alas, I was offered nothing but the air rushing under me, my shirt whipping like a flag in the wind. My glasses had been jerked from my grip when I fell, and all I saw was a great expanse of blue, with two dark blurs. One brown blur was my foot, booted and hanging in the air like a rag doll, and the other was growing ever smaller - the no doubt laughing form of Adoniel. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds, for that was all I had left; mere seconds until a bad choice turned into a bad splatter-patterned consequence.

I named a dog of mine Karma once. Thinking back, I thought I should have shot her while I had the chance, just in anticipation for preemptive revenge like what I needed now.

[SnootchyBootchykins]

The strands of my salvation were so light that I hardly understood that I had stopped falling. With my eyes closed shut, my entire body shaking and my senses refusing to accept the fall as real, it wasn't until my count had reached eight that I realized the wind was no longer chilling, pushing at my back. My hair no longer whipped upwards, and something sticky was on my forearms. I opened my eyes cautiously, sure that I would be sick as I did. There was still the ever-uncaring sun above me, but now the expanse of the blue sky was marred with dark branches and the glowing emerald of leaves.

Now that I was sure I wasn't going to die from falling, I started to pay more attention past my shoe. I couldn't see shit; my glasses had been lost somewhere early in my dive. Blurs of colors, mostly browns and deep, dark greens, were all around me. If I could have, I would have sat up and really looked around. It wasn't going to be happening any time soon. It felt like I was covered on my back and arms with glue, and from what I could see by straining my head up from where my hair was caught in it, it was everywhere. In the dark blur, splotchy lace patterns of white could barely be made out. I started to laugh, the sound high and pitiful.

It was a giant spiderweb. If I hadn't been somewhere between laughter and tears I might have tossed out some sassy comment about parlors. Instead, I worried about pissing myself, about dying. I didn't want to be eaten alive. I certainly didn't want to be pumped so full of venom I was a bloated piñata. I'd yet to see the spider, but if its web was this big, it would probably be big enough to barely be able to get a fang through one of my eye sockets. Wasn't that a lovely picture? Imagine my tombstone, grey and crumbling and inscribed oh so delicately: Here lies Manda, skullfucked by a big ol' bug.

When the web began to move, my thoughts turned to mush, and I really started crying. I expected a lot of things, as a dark shape loomed over me. Blurred light glinted off of what I could only imagine was eight black and hungry eyes. I wanted my glasses. I wanted to see the end, even though at the sight of a furry arachnid shape I closed my eyes tight. Maybe all I really wanted was to have that option. I did expect a lot of pain, or to feel the binding of more spidersilk as I was turned into a living pantry of go-to food. What I did not expect, was a kind, soothing voice.

"There there, little one," it said. The tradespeak was formal, and thick. It was a second language, but one spoken well, at least. I hopened one eye, to see the spider's face so close that I could make out most of the features. My heart skidded to a stop, my breath shuddered in my throat. "Don't be afraid." Now I was sure that I was hearing the spider, of all things. I couldn't breath, I gasped. My head felt light and I sputtered out something incoherent before I passed out. Hey, I never said I was slick.

When I came to, I was naked. I started to get angry, my mind confused. Could I accuse a spider of date rape? Somewhere on earth, I was pretty sure that someone's iPod was playing Sublime (http://www.absolutelyrics.com/lyrics/view/sublime/date_rape/).

[SnootchyBootchykins]

I'd barely had time to complain, muttering under my breath about indecent exposure when I spotted him. The rock he sat upon was like a throne; the way it was carved, you'd think it fit his body perfectly. The marble, swirled with glittering veins of quartz and dark smoky shadows, was the most beautiful rock I'd ever seen. If you looked at it too long, it was like seeing something in the flares of color and light...scenes and legend told out right at the edge of your vision. It held me in its thrall so tightly that I almost missed the figure who sat upon the elaborate miracle of nature.

His skin was even whiter than his seat, blue rivulets spread under an alabaster plain. It marked the path of his blood, and impossible not to notice. A vampire would have been enchanted. Those veins were the same color as his eyes, a deep blue that was darker than the skies and lighter than the open ocean. They were, however, dark enough that at first I mistook his pupils to be slitted as a cats were but then as he stood, green robe shifting around him with the whisper of a light cloth and began to walk towards me, I could see that I was quite wrong. They were the shape of the hourglasses, and my gaze was locked on those sharp, delicate features. He hid his hands within his robes, for he had no need of them.

The oracle held me with his mystery and his mind. The enchantment was so much that I hardly noticed the horns that delicately spiraled over his ears and into his long, grey hair until he was standing before me.

"Satyr?" I asked, the word more a breath from my lungs than anything that was actually spoken. Despite it, he heard, and smiled. One of his hands slipped from the robes and suddenly I felt self conscious. It was like awareness blossomed in my mind, some small voice reminding me that I was nude before him. I shifted to try and cover my nethers. Boobs had never really bothered me. Everyone's got nipples, the breast itself designed to feed the young. Him seeing my naked chest didn't really mean anything to me - I'll show my tits to basically anyone. The rest of the stuff, tho....that was private.

He paused, holding his hand out to me and for a moment all I could do was stare at him like a retarded turkey. Finally, my eyes focused on his hand and I grabbed it, letting his calloused fingers wrap around my wrist and pull me to my feet. That was a surprise. I had expected his hands to be as soft and gentle as the rest of what I could see of him. His face showed nothing of someone who worked hard, though the rough patches of his fingertips and palms said completely different. Perhaps there was something I was missing here? He had the hands of a farmer or a blacksmith, someone who worked with wood and iron and sweat all day. Around us, I saw nothing but forest and thick smokey spiderwebbing. I shuddered as the memory of the giant arachnid came back. He was probably the bodyguard.

If I had a reputation of trading the future with life, I'd probably need a bodyguard too. He had started to walk away from me, back to his throne and his effects. I hadn't seen them before, too taken in by the stone and the oracle himself. At his right hand was a mirror, the surface wet with a dark liquid. I had a feeling it was blood, though as the mirror shifted in the breeze from where it was delicately set on the arm of the natural chair, it didn't leave behind the streak of red that I expected. I frowned and turned to the oracle's left hand. He was weaving somethng.

I have always been attracted to two "feminine" traits displayed in men. Navel piercings and knitting. Don't ask me, maybe I saw one too many episodes of Sesame Street when I was hitting puberty. 'Today's fantasy is brought to you by the letter N! One hot Tiger Beat hunk! Ah-ha-ha! Two hot Tiger Beat hunks! Ah-ha-ha-ha!' And then come the dancing knitting needles.... The belly buttons had to come during the eighties, when muscle-bound men thought it would look good to wear midriff bearing shirts. Ten bucks says the belly button fetish comes from A.C. Slater.

Apart from fantasy and speculation, the weaving had nothing to do with muscle hunks or Count von Count. I saw, distorted by the stitching but still there, a girl. She had long dark hair, and was the threads for her hair actually hair? I had a sinking feeling and looked back at the mirror. Red streak or not, it was blood. I was pretty sure I knew who it belonged to as well.

"Where's Bess, Josian?"

[SnootchyBootchykins]

He ignored my question until he had gotten good and settled into his chair. Those eyes pierced me, so strange and clear...suddenly my hand flew to my face, my brows furrowing. How was I seeing? My glasses had been lost in the fall. I remembered not being able to see anything clearly when I was caught in the spider's web, but here I was looking at everything as clearly as I had the day I was born. I shouldn't have moved in my confusion. It just gave him a reason to avoid answering the most important question.

"I hope you don't mind, my dear, but I took the liberty of enchanting your eyes. I wouldn't have you as an audience blind, I do hope I suceeded in making you more comfortable about me. On such a note, your clothing had to be cut in order to get you out of the webbing. But have no fear," Was I right in assuming that he had begun to grin slyly, the mirror at his right hand reflecting light in a way that just didn't seem natural as he spoke his next words? "There is clothing for you to take from here. I will not send you back into the wood and world without anything to protect you."

I sighed before I spoke my next little lie. As much as I was determined to see my mission through, now fully sober and more terrified that I had ever been in my entire life, I had been concerned about having to return to Radasanth with an 'Emporer's New Clothes' moment hanging on my back.

"I don't care 'bout my clothes." I said. Josian had seen through my lies. His head tilted and he continued to smile - mockingly - at me. I grit my teeth, crossed my arms and tried my best to not look so pathetic. "Where. Is. Bess?"

He didn't try to distract me this time, or shower me with more of his frou-frou words. Instead, he turned his eyes towards some of the trees that were draped heavily with spiderwebbing. There was a patch that was so thick, it almost looked like lumps and knots of silly string instead of thin veils of spiders silk. It was easy to dismiss it as a mess, but looking harder revealed a cocoon within. I groaned. I'm sure she was in there, kept hidden away, but was she still alive? How was she breathing? And even if there was a way for her to get air, how was she eating and drinking? She'd die of hunger or thirst, all while wrapped in a sauna made of silk. I didn't even want to think about what was happening with her waste products, and the fact that a cocoon like that was one giant diaper that she had no way of getting off. Gross.

"So that's how you take lives!?" I asked, making every syllable an accusation. "Letting your pet spider eat her? That's rotten!" I stood and started to walk towards him, but he held up a hand and I felt something keeping me from moving forward any more.

"She is far from a snack," he said, a small laugh breaking the tenor of his voice. "She is given all that she needs here, and stays in constant bliss. I took her life, yes. I took it as my responsibility. I protect and provide for her."

"That's her family's job." I said, my voice hard, cold. I hated arguments. I'm awful at them. This, however, I wouldn't back down from. I didn't have his eloquent words, but I was stubborn as a mule. Could this clown call himself ornery? Hell freaking no. He sat in the woods, tiptoed in the tulips and knitted. Suddenly, his hobby wasn't so attractive. It wasn't just the 'I love you so I'll keep you locked away in a cocoon and never let you go.' kind of creepy that was getting to me now. I was starting to realize that I was about to try and get on his bad side by taking away this little prize of his and then I had to get through the webbing we were surrounded with, and the big ass mother fucking spider that had made the whole thing.

"She swore her life to me." he said.

"For a vision that was undoubtedly for her family!" I argued back. "How is she supposed to relay it to them?"

"What she sought had nothing to do with them, but herself. And if it had, that's none of my concern. She swore to the conditions. To me! I am bound by her words!" Suddenly, I was starting to see something of his demeanor crack. Josian seemed to tire, both in patience and by the way he leaned back, nearly slumping in his throne. My eyes sought hs horns, looking on the looping bone with pity. They acted as a fine crown, though they were worn on a head whose hair was not the natural grey so many characters had - I'm not into silver hair much, and I wouldn't wish an animu existance on my little peeps. The silver came from age.

Unicorns live a long, long time, but they do get old. Josian was ancient.

[SnootchyBootchykins]

"What's going to happen to her when you die?" I asked. My voice was soft now, my face contorted with worry. I could feel the frown, the tears threatening to fall. I wasn't sad about the idea of the old oracle dying. Far from it, but I was angry. Bess would end up suffering from his stubborn foolishness. Oracle with hourglass eyes or not, he was a jerk. Just a typical man. His answer made me even more angry.

"She will be a ward of this wood."

"A ward of the wood!?" I heard myself screeching. Lord, help me. I've become my mother. "What the hell do you mean about that!? Do you know what she did before she came here? She was a daughter of a courier! A townie! This was probably the first time she's ever been in the god damn woods in her whole life. Yeah, she made it here, but do you think that she could survive long term? You're out of your fucking mind!" When I had stopped ranting, trying to regain my breath and to ignore the scratch at the back of my throat that my raised voice had irritated, I expected a lot of things.

What I didn't even see coming was for Josian to bow to me, holding out a hand as if he wanted to give me a gift. "Would you take her from my care?" he asked. It was a trigger for a trap, and I could smell it. I paused, trying to word everything right. I didn't want to rush in, after all, Momma didn't raise no fool. But I didn't want to say something that would make him take back his offer. Bess' future was hanging in the balance of my next words. It wasn't too comforting. Finally, I found what I wanted to know, and phrased to to sound as innocent of a question that it could possibly be. It was like trying to dress a stick of dynamite up like a kitten; all the wrong shape and likely to explode in your face.

"If I did ward her... what curse would be laid upon me?" I waited for the Big Bang. Strangely, it didn't come. Josian looked almost lost for a moment before he replied.

"No curse or purpose I would not lay upon myself, if I still had your youth and love of freedom."

That didn't seem so bad, but I could still see the shadow of the great spider moving in the background of the webbed forest. Poisons came in pretty colors. I knew that. I felt a darkness in the back of my mind, a boding that was screaming at me to find something that would let me walk away and leave this all behind. I would have too, if not for the movement coming from the great cocoon that held the girl. If I left, I would be everything I despised. If I took up this offer, I was as good as a Boondock Saint. I'd have preferred to have Murphy by my side, but whatever. Doing good and doing right was just that. I couldn't walk away.

"She needs to be returned to her family." I said.

"You champion her, then? Be the Lady's knight?"

Confusion hit, but Josian was all too helpful. When Bess had come to see him, it had been because she'd found out through means other than an honest chitchat with mom and dad that shed been found on the banks of a river, half drowned and dying. She'd only been a toddler, and was raised up to be the courier's child. They'd never felt the need to tell her the truth, and she'd never thought otherwise until friends began to point out that she looked nothing like either of her parents, when they could see in themselves their father's nose or mother's chin. She'd come to him, to give her life for the truth. Great, I had thought when I heard that. Teenage angst. 'You're not my father!' Okay, Bess Skywalker, let's just accept that we had a good life and leave it at that.

It was easy to make fun of her, but maybe if I were still a kid and found out something like that I'd want to run to the oracle too. Josian had kept his word. In the mirror he'd shown her her origins. She'd been the twin sister of a noble's son. Tragedy would see her born first, and well, the inheritance bloody well couldn't go to the girl. Sod. All that. Pip pip. Whatever. The way the female PCs portrayed this place wasn't quite right. What did a woman have to do to get some suffrage in here? I would have placed a vote ten to one saying Bess couldn't vote either. If they had voting. I didn't think they did.

Josian said that if I was going to set her free, with her knowledge on a whole wide world, she would need a Knight to take her to the barony she was supposed to be treated like a baroness in. I thought she'd need more than a knight. People don't try and drown kids for no good reason. We needed a small battalion. I guess that's what the Role Player's Corner was for, but how was I going to find that when I was in the game? I sighed, my frown set into place as I did what could just have been the most retarded thing in my life. Sure, Josian said that I just needed to escort her to the barony and then I'd be a free knight to pledge my loyalty to whoever I damn well pleased. I knew, though, that she'd need protecting one we got there, until whoever had tried and failed to kill her once could be set straight.

I couldn't just abandon her now over a little thing like personal safety, eh? What the hell. I accepted to take his place as her Knight.

[SnootchyBootchykins]

Josian leapt forward so suddenly that I barely had time to skitter backwards. I nearly pissed myself, and when he stood still and I could relax, my hands still shook. I wanted to cuss at him, but I knew time was of the essence. He'd lost so much energy in the last few days. I could feel his fatigue as if it were mine too. I wanted to find a quiet place to lay down and die. If I was only feeling a shadow of his tired soul, I didn't envy him at all.

When he changed, it wasn't at all like I'd read of werewolves and shapeshifters in novels. I didn't see his skin stretch or hear the strange grind of bones forming new shapes. He hadn't appeared to be in pain. Instead, there was a moment when I could not look upon him, and had to turn my head. A breath of strange, warm wind played with my hair. It felt like magic, sent my skin tingling, and then the pressure to look away into the trees was gone. I turned my gaze back to him, and instead of the robed man, a unicorn stood. It would have been a magnificent horse alone. A grey body, dappled with spots of a deep smoke color was bursting with muscle. The way he stood still belied his age, his back bowed like a carnival horse I'd seen once. His eyes were still the same deep blue, the pupils as hourglasses, but that was the oracle in him.

One thin, spiraling horn shot from his forehead, curls of grey mane around the base. I wondered why in human form he had horns that were more like those of a rams, but here he showed the truth. In an instant I knew, as our eyes met, that he sold many truths. The one secret he kept, that wouldn't ever be found by blood on an enchanted mirror, or woven into a fine cloth, was about himself. The human form had been more than a disguise. It was a safe to keep things hidden away, and he'd shown me more than anyone else had seen, even though I still knew so little. But I had a name, and I had a form. I was touched, I really was. We humans so often took for granted that we are surrounded by more of our kind, their names sometimes on display on little plastic tags they wear over their hearts. With those names, we have access to the heart, and if I came back home to be the only human standing then knowing a little more about everything I came across would be so much more important.

It was a humbling moment, one ruined by the next moment our gazes locked. I felt knowledge blossom in my mind, put there by the great beast. I had to kill him now, and that was something that I didn't really understand. My Legend inspired movie-quotes to Adoniel came back to me. I was Lily, and the unicorn, a symbol of purity, must die. I was totally not down with that. I think Josian felt my uncertainty, my need to make this happen any other way but bloodshed. He walked over to the mirror and looked into the clear, reflective surface. I followed, looking over the edge. Somewhere around the pools of dark crimson, I expected to see my own face, exhausted and worried. There had been so many expectations that had been dashed to bits and left to rot that day that I didn't know why I was surprised when I saw something entirely different in the mirror than my own visage.

I saw a sword, and then Josian lashed out, his forehead coming down with a crash on the mirror. My arms flew up to protect my face, my body turning. When a shower of glass didn't come flying at me, replaced instead by a few tiny hard pricks that spotted my sides, I turned and looked. The unicorn stood before me, his forehead clear of all but the serrated edge of a broken horn. It had broken nearly down to the base, and I began to search the grass around us. How could this have happened? What did the oracle have planned? I was confused and scared, and the more that happened the more I felt things were spiraling out of control.

In the grass, I saw only a sword made of fine bone. The ivory white blade was sworled with shallow engravings of runes I couldn't make out, all very near to the hilt. It was carved like a broadsword, and looked strong. I grabbed at the grip, trying to lift it, but nearly dropping it again. I had thought it would be heavy, but serously? It weight more than a kid. Thoughts of entering battle with a crying infant strapped to my arm nearly made me laugh, but I lifted the weapon finally, and looked at it. The edge was sharper than I had thought when looking at it from a distance. I did drop it when I realized that I was meant to slay the unicorn with this weapon, somehow fashioned in an instant out of his own horn. Rather, perhaps it was just simply his horn, and had always been. But it as mine now, and had taken a shape suited for me.

As I muttered "fucking heavy," and let the blade drop into the soil below, biting in deep, I wondered at the feeling it was suited for me. I certainly had no intentions of killing Josian with part of his own body. I didn't have to say it out loud. He knew. He looked into the mirror again, and I played along. This was a game that I was getting tired of, trying to play this to the best end, while I was being used as a tool. In the end, it didn't matter. What I saw in the mirror made up my mind for me.

I saw a great spider unleashing hell across Corone. I saw the Moontae becoming food, Skie falling under those fangs. The expectant smile of Chromanon reflected in eight black and shining eyes before the smile turned to a grimace of pain. Characters - no people! - I cared about would die if I didn't do what was expected of me. I thought I caught a glimpse of Jen, falling under eight hairy legs, before the mirror went blank. My anger was beginning to boil. I hate bullies, and if I didn't play to this one's game, I wouldn't suffer. The people close to me would. My creations. It was like dooming my children, and some motherly instinct in me wouldn't do that. With red spots bursting against my vision, my scream one of every curse word and none all at once, I found the strength to lift the sword.

The blade was sharp indeed; it cut right through the oracle's neck.

I sat by his body for some time. I puked more than once; even my strong stomach can't stand to see a beautiful horse decapitated. Just knowing that it was my doing wasn't helping. I'd been played like a damn puppet, but then again, he'd ben a weaver, hadn't he? We all knew our place in the story, after all. I'd found, with the weight of indecision off my shoulders, it was easier to clean the blood from my hands in a small stream nearby. I found the clothes that Josian had promised - a tunic and pants of basic cotton. I'd pulled my boots from the webbing, and dried my tears one more time before I came to stand before Bess' cocoon.

Shards of mirror were stuck in the webbing, for some reason or another. Undoubtedly some magic of the oracle's doing. Glimpses of myself showed a girl who wasn't fit to be a knight. The pants were fine, but my brown work boots, covered in traces of webbing were out of place. While the tunic fit, the design of roses curling around a simple cross that looked vaguely like the symbol of the Red Cross was too much for my homely face. I'd noticed that my hair was a mess, several patches shorter than they had been yesterday. Undoubtedly I'd had to have been cut fully out of the webbing, and the loss of my hair had been a necessary evil. I carried a sword that didn't have any scabbard.

A fine Knight I turn out to be, I scoffed at my reflection. At least I could lift the sword now. Be it that it shed it's own burdens when I'd killed Josian, it wasn't quite so heavy now. I wasn't sure how I felt about having a sword that could feel things too, but I did know what Althanas could be like. In the coming days, maybe it was good to have a weapon that could still feel the empathy that I might lose.

Cutting Bess out of the cocoon was the work of a moment, and when she fell at my feet, clothed in a beautiful dress of white, my quest now seemed more real. It wasn't just a story that I was somehow reading along to in a most extreme way. I bowed to her, pledged my loyalty, and we left that place together. The sword, that she had named Iveniss, got us through the cobwebs that had shielded Josian for more years than I cared to count. At the dawning of the next day, I woke from our small camp early, and watched the sun come over the edges of the mountains that we had yet to face. Bess woke with complaints about the rocky bed she slept upon and lack of breakfast, but I just smiled. I was still a little shocked, that this quest - so much bigger than myself - had started with just a little Fool's Gold. I wanted to cry and laugh and start running like hell. Instead, I just readied myself and my lady to cross the Twilight Mountains, with a little admonishment to the kid.

"Patience is a virtue, lass."

Wait, had I just said lass? Who the fuck was I turning into? Letho!? Oh hell no. I made sure to slap her ass when I passed her, heading for the trail.


....To Be Continued....

Spoils Requested:
Bone broadsword - same general hardness as steel, though a little more brittle than the metal at the tip. Slightly sentient, only enough to feel.
Cotton tunic and pants

[Karuka]

My comments are for Manda, since Atzar and Christina dropped out.

Continuity: 7

I had a fairly solid idea of where you were before and where you were going after, and your connection to the centaur-Moontae creatures, but it's an event that happened within the thread that confused me. When you woke up in the clearing, you asked Josian where Bess was. How did you know her name? The parents never said.

Pacing: 7

The beginning dragged on in contrast to the rest of the story, but that's because solos and quests tend to have different issues here.

Setting: 7

I got a fairly good sense of setting from you for the entire thread.

Persona: 6

Your use of first person really made you shine here, but it failed to shine the light on the other characters in the story, despite the fact that you knew most of them intimately. They just seemed pretty flat and were there and then gone. Also, your descriptions of being upset could have done better.

Action: 6

Sometimes you do things that don't seem to make sense even in your own head, and a lot of the action really skims over what's happening. That's the challenge of first person, relaying everything that happened and everyone's personality while limiting yourself to only your perspective.

Dialogue: 8

The dialogue was solid, but "And you, Sir Zirkie, look nothing like a kangaroo!" was gold.

Mechanics: 8

Watch for typos.

Technique: 6

There wasn't much of this, but it was interesting to watch you try and relate things on Althanas to things on Earth.

Clarity: 9

I got what was going on without having to look back.

Wild Card: 7


Total: 71

Rewards:

SnootchyBootchykins gains 1020 EXP, 300 GP, and her requested spoils.
Christina Bredith gains 865 EXP and 85 GP
Atzar Kellon gains 584 EXP and 57 GP

EXP/GP added!