The Final Episode

[Guest Balladore]

“Wyvern, we’re not kidding! I’m through with this scheming crap! Either you come up with the money you owe us by this time next month, or we’ll earn the money by marketing the first ever Lizard-Burgers! Got it?!?” Wyvern’s creditor, who was wearing a black pin-stripe suit and dark sunglasses, and from the looks of it, waaaay too much gel in his hair, tightened his grip around Wyvern’s neck and threw him up against the wall of the now deserted bar.

 

The money loaner walked over to stand over Wyvern menacingly, and put his foot on Wyvern’s oversized stomach. The Almost-Dragon gulped, and nodded silently… It was serious this time… there was no getting out of it… no running away… they would find him wherever he went. He had exactly 30 days until the black-suited man would be back to collect his dues… and that didn’t leave much time.

 

He had to think… think… he stretched his lizard-brain as far as it would go… which wasn’t far, but enough… He thought of anyone who could possibly “loan” him some money… or even something of value… he walked over to his still-incredibly-unorganized filing cabinet, and flipped through all the files to see if anyone would possibly consider helping him out… he muttered to himself as he flipped, “Gyrfalcon, definitely not, Peredhil, no, Jechum, no, Gwaihir, no, Balladore, n—wait a minute…”

 

He suddenly remembered when Balladore had first applied to the pen… He had stolen some geld from him by forging his signature… his signature would still be on his application form… He pulled the file out of the cabinet and saw a yellow sticky-note on top with the account number 11574 at the goblin bank in Xavier. Quickly, Wyvern pulled out his Crystal Ball and logged onto the Xavier First Bank and input the number… “Damn!” he exclaimed, seeing there was no geld remaining in Balladore’s old account.

 

As he picked everything up out of the folder and prepared to put it back in the cabinet, a little Polaroid fell out… showing an amulet… a very beautiful, mysterious artifact. It was a crystal, with a little fire burning inside it… and he had never seen anything like it. This had to be worth some geld on the open market… if he could only get his hands on it. He immediately grabbed his coat, put it on, and set out… he knew just the men for this job… no, not the ghostbusters, The Serpent’s Nest.

 

 

Edited by: Balladore at: 3/2/02 10:44:17 am

[Guest Balladore]

Wyvern strode quickly across town, fighting the cold the best he could, dressed only in his thin coat. The Near-Dragon finally came to the guild known as The Serpent’s Nest, and walked in. Sure, they weren’t the best… or even the second best… Ok, so they were novices. They were poor excuses for fighters. But, hey, they owed him a favor (imagine that) and so he wouldn’t have to pay them.

 

As he burst in the door without knocking, he saw the cluttered room that served as the main office of “The Serpent’s Nest: Mercenaries for all causes.” Thinking that it resembled his old office at The Pen is Mightier than the Sword with the papers strewn about and a rack with various weapons in the corner… chairs with spikes growing out of the back, etc., he looked around to see the various members of the Thieves Guild asleep. Impatiently, he bellowed, “Wake up, you great buffoons! I’m here to collect my favor!”

 

The Mercenaries sprang up, thinking that a hurricane had recently struck, started running around the room frantically. When they finally saw Wyvern, they dropped all the items they were carrying and burst out laughing.

 

“Oh shut your pie hole, you overgrown iguana!” said the one who seemed to be the leader, and whom Wyvern knew as Nathaniel Doroday. Doroday was a young, cocky swordsman who wasn’t bad with a bow as well, but had absolutely no grasp for magic at all. Wyvern stared the mercenary captain down, and slowly the silence returned. Nathaniel soon cleared his throat and said “Well, Wyvern, what can we do for ye?”

 

“Find this man,” Wyvern said simply, holding up a crude but fairly accurate sketch of the man he was searching for, Balladore… fairly accurate, that is, for what Balladore looked like 31 years ago, which was the last time Wyvern had seen him. Ever since the Druid left The Pen 31 years ago after the “Quest for Justice” after his wife was killed, no one had seen him. There were rumors, however, that he had taken up residence somewhere in the Timberoak forest where his questing party had first traveled through so many years ago.

 

“Whaddya want with him?” asked Doroday, suspicious of Wyvern’s motives, and rightly so.

 

“None of your business. You owe me one, and you’re going to find him to repay me. Got it?”

 

“Fine, whatever, you mini-flamebreath. But I gets ta pick me crew, understood?”

 

“Hah. As if you had any choices besides the rabble that already work with you,” replied the lizard, laughing.

 

“Oi! The Serpent’s Nest is a perfectly respectibble joint, ye getsit? I coulda ‘ad Gyrfalcon ‘imself on ‘ere if I wanted! I’d rather ‘ave Zippy, though, an’ don’t you ferget it!” retorted Doroday haughtily, referring to one of the members of the guild who was over in the corner. Donny “Zippy” Nidding was an all-purpose mercenary. He could use minor magic, wielded two daggers as if they were extensions of his arms, and could put a crossbow-bolt through a fly on the wall, if he so desired. He was probably the best fighter of the group, but was introverted, and lacked the leadership qualities that Nathaniel displayed so openly.

 

“Right you could. Just find him. And take as many of these “fighters” with you as ye want… just find him and bring him back here within two weeks, got it?”

 

“Aye, I got it. 2 weeks. Any ideas as to where he’s hidin’?”

 

“Rumors say Timberoak, though I don’t rightly know. Ye might search there, though… He’s somewhere between here and The Pen, though, I can guarantee you that much,” said Wyvern, and he looked around at the four members of the guild as they assembled. There was Doroday as a swordsman, and another man by the name of Salarak who was also a swordsman, Zippy, and a marksman that Wyvern didn’t know about. That marksman gave him the creeps, though… he always wore a hood so that you couldn’t see his face, though you could often feel his eyes boring into you… as though he could see your very soul… any time that he had to deal with The Serpent’s Nest, he tried to avoid the archer if possible, but generally it wasn’t… it was rumored that he was the best bow on the whole continent, but he would never claim anything of the sort.

 

When the members of the guild were properly assembled, they set off into the night, leaving Wyvern in a pile of papers and other various items strewn about the office, and wondering if they would make it back in time for him to provide his creditors with their due…

 

Edited by: Balladore at: 3/2/02 10:45:02 am

[Guest Balladore]

The Mercenaries walked outside, and saddled their horses. All of their steeds were a sleek black, and as such, they were better suited for stealth during night travel. All four of the hired-fighters were cloaked and packed in an instant (you never know when you will find a job,) and were ready to ride. Nathaniel checked to make sure everyone was ready, and then said, “Righto, then, we’re off!” and spurred his horse into a gallop. The other three followed suit, and they sped off into the darkness.

 

As they rode, there was little communication because of the wind and the noise of the horse’s hooves. The wind was so loud, in fact, that it whistled like a screaming banshee in their ears, and the speed the were making added to it. Suddenly, another variable added to the volume of the wind… something else whistled in his ear… and he realized in that moment what it was… an arrow. He looked behind him to see the marksman, whom the group knew as Avery, reloading his longbow and firing from the saddle. A small group of fighters up ahead barred the road, and Doroday held up his right fist, the sign that the entire group recognized as the command to halt.

 

Nathaniel and Salarak dismounted and drew their swords, while Avery nocked another arrow, and Zip loaded his crossbow. The quartet advanced in a “V” formation, with Doroday as the point, Avery on his left, Salarak at his right, and Zip behind Avery. When they got within firing range, the two archers halted and allowed the swordsmen to stride onward quickly. Just before the melee began, Avery and Zip fired, taking down two of the dozen or so swordsmen.

 

When the two fighters were only ten meters from the assembled group, they screamed their battle cry and broke into a dead run. This startled the men barring the road, and the two men had the advantage for a moment. Another two fell to their blades, and another two to the deadly bolts that Zip and Avery were sending forward at the fighters…

 

Wait a moment… these weren’t just any fighters… they were Saphinroth, fighters of the vanquished Dark Lord Marlaunt… the man who had tried to conquer Terra about 45 years ago… supposedly, when Marlaunt had been defeated, his entire army surrendered as well… the Sephinroth hadn’t been seened in almost 5 decades… so what were they doing here now?

 

With a wary glance to his leader, Salarak confirmed Doroday’s suspicions, and the two of them were afraid for a moment… Sephinroth were supposedly the best-trained fighter that was human, anyway, and they weren’t exactly tickled to know that that was what they were fighting. The dark solders were fighting back now, and with a Vengeance. One of them made a strange gesture, and the six that had already fallen were suddenly on their feet again… as undead.

 

@#%$! Thought Doroday… it was bad enough to have to fight a Sephinroth, but twice? That was almost too much. As Doroday lunged at the one who had resurrected his fallen friends, two Sephinroth stepped in and blocked his attack. Nathaniel lifted his shield just in time to deflect one blow, and blocked the other with his giant battlesword. Salarak stepped in and took off one of the evil warrior’s heads, and the mercenary captain parried a second attack from the other, before running him through.

 

“Zippy, I could use a blade more than a bow right now! Get your ass in here!”

 

“Gotcha, chief!” and with this the young rogue ran forward to the battle, where the Sephinroth were starting to surround the two swordsmen. Avery stayed back and kept firing though, taking out opponent after opponent only to have them raised again. Zippy pulled out his twin blades and started hacking, twirling the two daggers so quickly that they fairly hummed, as if enchanted. He sliced into one of the challengers, and quickly made a backwards thrust to catch another in the stomach. Doroday was wielding his massive blade with skill and patience, staying calm even though the Sephinroth kept coming and coming.

 

Finally, Avery had had enough. He let out an enormous cry and ran forward towards the battle. He climbed a nearby tree and straddled a branch. With his new elevation, he had access to the Necromantic Sephinroth, and fired. His bolt caught the dead-raiser in the throat, and he fell to the ground spluttering.

 

With the Dark Warriors no longer coming back from the dead, the three mercenaries on the ground made short work of them. The one who kept raising them from the dead had been their leader, as well, and when he was gone they had no direction, giving them yet another advantage. With one final swing, Doroday decapitated the last one for the last time.

 

“What the hell was that?! Yelled Zippy.

 

“Sephinroth… they—“ Salarak was cut off as he heard the sound of hooves pounding the ground down the road behind them, and the four mercenaries fled to their horses and galloped off, all the while listening to the Evil horses that were in hot pursuit.

 

Edited by: Balladore at: 3/6/02 6:51:04 pm

[Guest Balladore]

As they rode towards Xavier, which was a two-day ride from Sellonide, where their office was located, Avery kept firing behind them repeatedly, taking out the Sephinroth one by one, and as the others were giving chase, the Sephinroth Captain was unable to raise the others. Eventually, Avery swung around in his saddle so that he was riding backwards, and handed the reigns of his horse to Zip. He loaded his bow and fired, bringing down their pursuers down one by one. Finally, when all of the Sephinroth had been dealt with, the four mercenaries stopped and caught their breath.

 

When all of them had revived and could speak, Zippy repeated his question: “What was that?”

 

“Sephinroth, like I said. They’re evil warriors that used to work for Lord Marlaunt back in the Aurora Wars… of course, when Marlaunt was exiled two years after the war was won, the Sephinroth disappeared as well, and I hadn’t heard that anyone had seen them since… until today, of course. I wonder…” Salarak’s voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, and he was lost in thought for the rest of their break. The rest of the group made no conversation, and they all took their respite in silence.

 

When the horses and riders were ready to travel again, they mounted, just as the sun was starting to rise in the east.

 

“Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning…” prophesized Avery, and the rest of the group listened to his words… Avery was very seldom wrong about these things… it was as if he had a sort of… touch with nature. Of course, it was rumored that he had a bit of elven blood in him, somewhere down the line, but no one was entirely sure about that…

 

Regardless of what the weather would look like later in the day, the Riders took advantage of the good weather they had at present, and were off in the early morning light, leaving no trace that they had been there at all.

[Guest Balladore]

The four horse’s hooves pounded the earth as the riders came nearer and nearer to Xavier, which was a fairly large city for the area. As they rounded the hill that overlooked the small metropolis, they looked down into the valley to see the city, where it was rumored the best ale on the continent was housed… at an inn called The Falcon’s Roost. Due to this rumor, of course, they would be staying at that very inn, and of course, sampling some of the famous beer while they were there.

 

As they came to the city, they slowed their horses to a trot, and eventually stopped… they had no idea where they were going. Nathaniel saw a man walking beside the group, and called to him “Oi! You there! Do ye think ye could direct us to the inn named the Falcon’s Roost?”

 

“Surely, it’s where I’m staying as well! Follow me,” replied the young man, who appeared to be about 16. He had a strange air to him… as if he was confused, and yet knew where he was going at that moment in time… it was hard for Nathaniel to pin down exactly, but one thing he could see clearly—something almost behind his eyes said that he had something to prove… someone had wronged him in the past, and he had to prove everyone wrong and show them that he could do it… he would, too, if Doroday could read characters at all.

 

When they came to The Falcon’s Roost, they saw that it appeared a little less than up to the standard, on the outside, anyways… but, as the saying goes “Don’t judge a Book by it’s cover.

 

As they entered the inn, they realized that they had been correct to give the inn a chance… the main room was actually quite nice… there was a fire burning in the hearth along one wall, a large bar along another, and a stairway on the third. Small and large tables were placed around the room hap-hazardly, as if they had been moved around several times… the lighting was dim, as the result of only being lit by the fire and candles that adorned every table. A bartender was manning his post, and greeted the mercenaries as they walked inside:

 

"Welcome to my inn. Cash before each round, drink too much and cause trouble, and Guido will escort you out. Name your drink and I'll see if I can find or make it for you."

 

Thinking that he was liking this already, Nathaniel piped up “How about some of that famous beer I’ve ‘eard about, eh? ‘ow much will that cost us?”

 

"1,000 geld per glass," the bartender said flatly, and the group winced. "The second-best is 30 geld per glass, though..." At this, Nathaniel’s eyes sparkled again, and he put the appropriate amount on the counter and asking for a round.

 

"Who are you, anyway?" one of the men asked, and the bartender considered them, eyes moving from face to face, as if judging their worthiness. "I am called Gyrfalcon." the half-elf said, raising an eyebrow as he watches for recognition.

 

“What?! The Gyrfalcon? You’re not serious!” exclaimed Zip, his eyes brightening with awe and near-worship. The others’ faces looked much the same, and they waited for the bartender to tell them he was only joking.

 

Gyrfalcon sighs softly, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling the beginnings of a headache. It had been a *long* day, and this wasn't helping any... "Yes, I am serious." he said, opening his eyes again.

 

“By Jove, ‘ee is serious! Neva woulda’ believed it if I ‘adn’t seen ‘im with me own eyes!” said Nathaniel, as his accent slipped in as it always did when he was excited or nervous... he tried to hide it, normally, as some people didn’t approve of foreigners, but when he got excited, it just tended to slip out.

 

Gyrfalcon frowned… his fame and reputation, once again, preceded him. “At least these guys haven’t asked for an autograph yet,” Gyrfalcon thought to himself.

 

“Well, what brings you daring young men to my inn?” asked Gyrfalcon, trying to get the subject away from himself. It had the desired affect:

 

“Oh, we were hired by an overgrown lizard to try and find—“ started Zippy, only to be interrupted by the bartender:

 

“Wait a minute,” Gyrfalcon said suspiciously… “What’s this ‘overgrown lizard’s’ name?”

 

“Goes by Wyvern… why, do you know him?” Replied Nathaniel briefly, and watching Gyrfalcon.

 

Gyrfalcon turned to hide his smile, and busied himself by getting the ale the mercenaries had bought. “I’ve heard of him before… go on.”

 

“Well,” continued Zippy, “He hired us to find this man… I don’t suppose you’ve seen him, have you? Show him the picture, Nathaniel!”

 

The mercenary did as he was told… and pulled out the sketch that Wyvern had made back in Selonide… Gyrfalcon looked at the picture briefly as he was filling their glasses, and continued working… only to perform a double-take… he recognized his old friend immediately… and to have so many members of the old Pen involved in one occurrence was odd… as the old saying goes, “One is happenstance, Two is coincidence, but three is conspiracy”… and Gyrfalcon believed it.

[Guest Balladore]

“That’s Balladore. You say Wyvern hired you to find this man? Why?”

 

“He wouldn’t tell us… he just said it was our job to find him, because he said so, and we would do it because we owed him,” replied one of the mercenaries.

 

“Hah. Sound’s like Wyvern, alright… mmm…” Gyrfalcon’s voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, and he wondered how so many people were involved in this simple matter… and he had heard that the Sephinroth were back… which could’ve meant that Marlaunt… no, it wasn’t possible… but then again-

 

“Say, Gyrfalcon,” said Salarak, yawning, “’kin we have a room? I’m beat, and I need some sleep here.”

 

“Sure, it’s up the stairs, just find one that isn’t occupied, I’ll charge you in the morning,” said Gyrfalcon, and he sat down again at his own bar, yet again lost in his thoughts.

 

As the five walked up the stairs, Zippy realized that they had never heard the strangers name, and promptly asked him this.

 

“Law Taishou. See you in the morning,” the young man replied, after shaking hands with the man who had asked him the question.

 

3 hours Later

 

Everyone had left or gone to bed, and the main room was deserted, the doors had been locked… unfortunately, that couldn’t stop the most determined of intruders, as was about to be shown, unbeknownst to anyone. With a few “Disintegrate” spells, the hinges on the door fell to the floor in the form of dust, and the man who held the handle on the door was able to keep it from falling and creating much noise.

 

A young woman wearing mage’s robes entered the inn, and gestured for the others to follow her. With a few gestures of her hand, a small globe of light appeared, and the others (who were able) did the same.

 

“Bartholomew! Wait, it’s here… on the bar,” called the young woman, who was actually quite beautiful in the moon-like light… she had chestnut brown hair, and the light cast a pearl-like beauty over her facial features, leaving them half obscured in shadow.

 

The man stopped with his foot on the stair, and snuck quietly over to the bar with the woman, and examined it… it being, of course, the sketch of Balladore that had been left there after the discussion between Gyrfalcon, the group of mercenaries, and Law. After examining it for a moment, the man called Bartholomew picked up the sketch and stuffed it into his pocket, and looked around the room suspiciously. Seeing no one, he was satisfied.

 

“Ready, Andraia?”

 

“Of course,” Andraia replied smoothly, “I’m always ready.”

 

The two linked hands, and a Glyph appeared, floating above the bar, which the two of them had memorized easily. It was the sign of the order… and without blinking, they turned their attention to the bar again. Moving their free hands in awkward gestures and whispering an incantation, several carvings appeared in the wood below the glyph. When they finished, they released the other’s hand, and nodded to the few guards they had brought with them. The guards filed out, and the mages repaired the door easily, leaving no other sign than the glyph and carvings and the missing picture that they had been there.

[Guest Balladore]

The next morning, Gyrfalcon awoke suddenly, and had a feeling of dread… he couldn’t explain it, and tried to convince his self that it was just some indigestion. He dressed quickly, and went out into the main room so that he could examine it, and prove that nothing was wrong… unfortunately, that was not to be. The minute he reached the dining room, he saw the glyph and carving that had been left by the mages last night.

 

“Everyone up! Now, I say, get up and out of the inn!” He yelled, running upstairs and knocking on doors as he went. Several unhappy customers opened their doors furiously, only to be yelled at to get outside of the inn. People obeyed in various states of dress, and a scene was caused immediately as tempers were thin.

 

As soon as everyone was outside, Gyrfalcon moved closer to the glyph to examine it… he moved cautiously, as he had experience in these things, and had quite frequently had come across an explosive glyph, as most mages would rather blow you up and ask questions later than the other way around… of course, there were exceptions, but very few, he found.

 

As Gyrfalcon got closer to the mysterious glyph, he recognized it as being merely a signature, and not a trap. Relieved, he moved closer, and called everyone back inside.

 

Most customers of the inn went back upstairs to bed, grumbling, but Nathaniel and Law stayed and asked Gyrfalcon what the trouble had been.

 

“This glyph,” Gyrfalcon replied, pointing to the new-found insignia. At this, Law’s eyes widened, and he became very quiet. Seeing Law’s reaction, Gyrfalcon immediately asked “What’s the matter? Do you recognize it?”

 

Slowly, the young man nodded, his eyes still as big as saucers. “It’s… it’s the same sign that was left at my house… the morning that I found my parents dead on the floor…” and the boy’s voice trailed off there, his eyes filling with tears. Gyrfalcon reached for his shoulder, attempting to comfort him, only to have his hand slapped away a moment later.

 

“I don’t need your pity! I swear, I’ll find whoever did this, and I’ll kill them!” his eyes were flashing menacingly, and Gyrfalcon immediately knew he had pegged Law wrong… he was a boy who’d been forced to grow up too soon… and that was dangerous in any case.

[Guest Balladore]

After Law’s little outburst, people just sort of… dispersed. Nathaniel went upstairs to bed, but he couldn’t sleep. Eventually, he went downstairs again, only to find Law Taishou still in the same place he was when he had left. Cautiously, he approached the table where the young man was sitting, and looked to see if he was still angry… unfortunately, Law caught him in the act.

 

“Nathaniel… I’m sorry for that little… outburst… it’s just that ever since my parents were killed, I-“

 

“It’s all right, I understand,” replied Nathaniel… he was an orphan himself, after all. “Um… if you wanted to talk to me about it, I’d listen…” Nathaniel’s voice trailed off eventually, afraid he might spark another shouting match with Law, but this time the younger man simply looked down at his shoes.

 

“Not… not right now, but maybe some other time… thanks, Nathaniel… you’re the first person who’s… well, who’s cared about me since my parents…” again, Law’s voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, and he twiddled his thumbs awkwardly. His emotions were all… crazy… something was going on… he could feel it… and it wasn’t just some stupid puberty thing, either… he knew that something was affecting his body—and this led him to believe it was either a curse, some other type of magical alteration, or else… no, it couldn’t be—there hadn’t been one in the family for ages… ever since Colin Bradsford the third had died on his mother’s side, there hadn’t been a mage in his family.

 

But, then again, certain extremely strenuous or revenge-worthy events have been known to trigger the line of power… and this certainly qualified. Then again, his swordsmanship skills were superb… there had never been a magus who had been able to wield a sword as well as him. Of course, he hadn’t been training to be a mage—swordsmanship would be more beneficial to him, as he hadn’t known that he would inherit these powers.

 

“Law?!?” Suddenly, the young man was brought back to earth from the cloud where his head had been… always daydreaming… that’s what his mother had said. Not that she had looked down upon it—she knew as well as anyone that dreamers can accomplish great things, but she had wished he would’ve concentrated on his studies a little more than other things.

 

“Law?? Can you hear me?” Once again, the young man came back to earth with a crash. He had drifted off… before he could do so again, he said:

 

“Yes, sorry… I just got lost in thought about something.”

 

“Ok, well, I was saying that since it’s pouring outside just like Avery predicted, we would probably be staying another night. Will you be staying as well?”

 

“Yes… Yes, I think so,” replied the young man, considering how long his money would hold out.

 

“Well, good then. We’ll probably talk again before we leave, so I’ll see you later, I suppose,” said Nathaniel, shaking his head as he walked upstairs. What a Dreamer, Doroday thought… and he certainly was.

[Guest Balladore]

As the rain poured down outside, Law sat and watched the torrents of precipitation. He had always loved the rain, and he couldn’t explain why… he was drawn to it, like a moth to a candle, and gathered his cloak and weapons and walked outside to wander the streets of Xavier aimlessly.

 

As he traveled, the young man wondered where he would go after his money ran out… after he couldn’t stay at an inn anymore due to the lack of funds… he didn’t have any means of transportation, and already didn’t have enough even to buy a horse. He knew that he would never stoop to thievery, but he also knew that he needed a plan fast.

 

“Come on, think!” Law thought to himself… the rain was good for his thoughts… it was soothing, and kept out thoughts of his parents, generally. He thought of the inn where he was staying and the kind keeper… he wouldn’t let him stay on another night, would he? He might… but he didn’t want to depend on anyone, especially after his little outburst… and then he thought of the mercenaries staying on the very same floor as him. They had shown Gyrfalcon a picture of someone they were looking for… They were looking for! He could ask to join their group! It would be a source of income, and as a mercenary he would have word of whoever it was that killed his parents!

 

As quickly as he could, Law ran back to The Falcon’s Nest, and ran upstairs with a hasty        “’Lo,” to Gyrfalcon. As soon as he came to Nathaniel Doroday’s door, he skidded to a halt and pounded on it as hard as he could, shouting “Nathaniel!! Nathaniel, Come out!! I have to talk to—“

 

And Law was cut off there as the door opened, and a very angry mercenary leader found a very excited young man… which, as you might guess, are not the most compatible of moods and occupations.

 

Quickly, Law explained his whole plan about accompanying the mercenaries on their journey to find this “Balladore person,” and how it would benefit both him and the group, and cited the (as he put it, many) qualities he had to offer the group.

 

Exasperated, Nathaniel Doroday sighed and replied…

[Guest Balladore]

“Fine, if you let me go to sleep, then I will let you join us! Just let me get some sleep!”

 

“Yes!!” Law replied, obviously delighted with his new leader’s decision. The young man danced around the hallway, until one of the other tenants of the inn opened the door and threw a book at him. Still, Law’s spirits were high, and he ran downstairs quickly, and plowed straight into Gyrfalcon.

 

“Oh… I’m s-sorry, Mr. Gyrfalcon, sir… I wasn’t w-watching where I was g-going, sir, I-“ Law stammered, until he was interrupted by his proprietor.

 

“It’s alright, Law… why are you in such fine spirits so early this morning?” said Gyrfalcon, chuckling a little.

 

“W-well, sir, err… you see, Mr. Gyrfalcon-“

 

“Calm down. Call me Gyrfalcon—or Gyr, if you prefer,” interrupted Gyrfalcon again… he hated it when his reputation preceded him.

 

“Right, Mr—err—Gyrfalcon, Well, you see, I just joined the Serpent’s Nest, and so I have a way to make money and… yeah.”

 

“Is that the group that’s looking for Balladore?” asked the innkeeper, and saw Law’s face go blank, “The druid?”

 

“Oh!” said Law, remembering the picture of the druid that Nathaniel Doroday had shown Gyrfalcon and him at their first meeting at the bar. “Yes, that’s them,” said Law again brightly. He was proud to have finally gotten himself his first real, solid job, and only at 16.

 

“Mmm… I need to speak to Nathaniel when he wakes up, if you could tell him that for me,” said Gyrfalcon.

 

“Yes, I will, but not until he wakes up… I’ve waken him too many times today,” replied the young man again, while attempting to suppress a small laugh.

 

“Right then,” replied Gyrfalcon, yet again lost in thought about his old friend Balladore, the Elder of Initiates Wyvern, and merely by chance, himself. Three (at one time, at least) members of The Pen is Mightier than the Sword. That was suspicious…

 

Gyrfalcon sat on one of the bar stools distractedly, and started to think. He needed to figure this out…

 

Wyvern had hired the members of the Serpent’s Nest mercenary guild to find Balladore and take him back to Selonide; why?

 

Gyrfalcon knew his old friend very well, and whenever his name was said in one sentence along with the question “Why?” that money was the answer. It must be one of his schemes… but how could Balladore possibly have any net worth at all?

 

Well… as a druid, he wouldn’t have spent much in his life, but really he wouldn’t have accumulated much either. Perhaps, for once, money wasn’t Wyvern’s only objective. Gyrfalcon knew Wyvern, and he had a good heart deep down… VERY deep down, perhaps, but he still had it… perhaps Balladore was in trouble. Maybe Wyvern had to try and find the druid and bring him to Selonide to protect him from something else... Except, if Balladore was in trouble, how would Wyvern know about it? Still, it had to be something very important to make the eternally greedy lizard spend money...

 

If that was the case, then Gyrfalcon had to reveal what he knew. Gyrfalcon got up, and went to his private room and pulled out the letters that Balladore had been sending him, and searched through them until he found the first letter, which told where Balladore was now living…

 

 

… and I have found a small clearing in the Timberoak Forest, which ensures my privacy, as not many will venture into the shady trees. In fact, if you ever cared to visit, there’s a middle-aged blacksmith who comes calling from time to time after having burned himself clumsily. I, of course, heal the buffoon, and we talk as I prepare the medicine. He lives in Palacania, in the kingdom of King Millas, where, if you remember we once traveled through together a long time ago. Well, I always go out for a walk to watch the sunset around this time of day, so I’ll have to put down the quill now. (Besides, my hands have become arthritic in my old age of senility, and I need to rest)

 

For now, my friend,

Balladore

 

“Law! Law, come here!” yelled Gyrfalcon, and woke the entire inn once again. This was not good for his patronage, but he didn’t care at this point.

 

The young man came running downstairs, and Gyrfalcon ordered him “Go wake Nathaniel and the rest. We leave immediately, rain or not. I have a bad feeling about this…”

 

Gyrfalcon looked at the carving left in his bar and added, “Make haste… I have a feeling we're losing the race already.”

 

Edited by: Balladore at: 4/7/02 9:49:42 pm

[Guest Balladore]

Quickly, heart pounding, Law ran upstairs and knocked on Nathaniel Doroday’s door, and he opened it angrily.

 

“S-sorry, sir… Master Gyrfalcon said that I should wake you and tell you that we have to leave… and he’s coming with us, it sounds like… so… err… perhaps you should pack and… things…” Law said nervously. He had woken the mercenary leader several times that day already, but at the news that Gyrfalcon would be accompanying them, his face brightened, and he slammed the door to prepare for departure.

 

Law continued down the hall, waking the rest of the party and informing them in the same manner.

 

Meanwhile, downstairs Gyrfalcon was preparing himself. “Guido! Where are you, Guido?!” shouted Gyrfalcon, as he threw another set of his leather-armor into his bag-of-holding, readying himself for a long journey, just in case.

 

Guido appeared presently, and asked what his boss had needed. “I need you to watch the inn. You know the drill, pay for drinks before you serve on Ol’ Peculiar, prices the same, etcetera.”

 

“Sure ting, boss,” replied the bouncer, as he did know the drill, like Gyrfalcon said.

 

Gyrfalcon nodded… he had confidence in Guido. Now, he had to pack. He quickly threw the rest of what he needed into his bag of holding, and walked out into the main room. He examined the carving in the wooden bar, as well as the Glyph once more… Law had said something about the glyph, he thought… could he know who’s signature it was?

 

“Law! Law, come here!” called Gyrfalcon… if there was any chance that he knew who the glyph belonged to, Gyrfalcon had to check it out.

 

The young man came running downstairs, shouldering a large bag. When he saw him, Gyrfalcon asked: “Law, did you say you knew who left this glyph?”

 

Law went quiet, and his eyes saddened… after a few seconds, he replied, “Yes… the same people who killed my parents left it… it’s the same one I found.”

 

“I see… that writing…” said Gyrfalcon, examining the carving in the bar again more closely, and running his fingers over it. “Perhaps we’d better take a rub of that… you never know who you could meet in Palacania,” said Gyrfalcon absent-mindedly. He took out some paper and a piece of charcoal from the fire, and made the rubbing. After examining it (as well as comparing it to the original carving for accuracy) he decided it was fine.

 

During all this, the rest of the mercenaries had somehow found their separate ways downstairs, and were gathered around the half-elf and young man.

 

“Well then, ‘s abowt time we shoved off, doncha thank?” asked Nathaniel, as he was very excited to actually have Gyrfalcon on the same team as he. It might not be his team anymore, but he was riding and probably would be fighting with the legendary Gyrfalcon.

 

There was a chorus of agreement, and after a last double-check to make sure they had everything, they set out for Palacania.

[Guest Balladore]

It was a two day ride, and the travelers were forced to go through the Muckmoors to reach the Kingdom of Millas. He was still alive, remarkably, since the last time Gyrfalcon had heard of Millas from his friend Jheric, who accompanied Balladore and two or three others through Millas’ territory. Though Jheric the mage had filled Gyrfalcon in on Millas’ attitude, he still doubted whether or not they would be able to obtain passage to Palacania.

 

The Muckmoors were awful. It was too much weight for the horses to bear in the deep mud, and so the mercenaries, Law, and Gyrfalcon dismounted and tried to lead their horses through the swampy area. The mud seemed to suck at their feet, lagging them down continually.

 

As soon as they were out of the moors, they saw the guard tower. They rode up to it, and Nathaniel called out, “Hey! Someone from the guard! We need to go to Palacania!”

 

The group waited for an answer, but none came. Finally, after a few minutes and continued shouting attempts, the group decided to just ride through.

 

“Strange,” muttered Salarak, as they continued… he had figured that the border would be guarded efficiently, especially in this time of year when invasions were not uncommon.

 

When they reached Palacania, the group asked the nearest person for directions to a smith, and followed them quickly… they were in a hurry, after all… whoever had left that glyph had a good head start before them, if this was where they were going…

 

They found the man at work, pounding on a sword over an anvil, when they entered the smithy. He was tall, and wore a raven-black beard that matched his hair. His eyes were a kind blue, and laugh-lines had formed around his mouth over time.

 

“Excuse me!” yelled Gyrfalcon over the pounding of metal on metal, and getting the smith’s attention, but for the wrong purpose.

 

“No orders, I’m booked full! Come by next week!”

 

“No, no, we’re not here for equipment services, we need to speak to you about a certain druid,” replied the half-elf matter-of-factly.

 

“Eh? Balladore? What do you want with him?” Questioned the smith, finally putting down his hammer and cooling the piece he was working on in a basin next to him.

 

“We need to see him… we have reason to believe that he could be in grave danger.”

 

“And why should I believe you?” inquired the smith, still suspicious of the group’s motives.

 

“Because I have this,” said Gyrfalcon, handing over the letter that Balladore had sent him, telling him of the smith in Palacania.

 

The smith reads the letter, and chuckles as he hands it back to the half-elf.

 

“Buffoon, eh? Right.” The smith smiles, but is cut off by Law.

 

“Right, but we really are short on time… if you could just take us to his hut or shanty or whatever it is you call it, we’d be most grateful,” said Law, without being addressed.

 

“Alright, alright. We’ll go right now. Is that soon enough for you?”

 

“Just fine,” said Nathaniel with a smile, dispelling any hard feelings between both groups.

 

Quickly, the blacksmith saddled his horse and prepared for the ride, “Hmmm… I suppose I don’t have to burn myself this time, eh?”

 

“Beg pardon?” asked Gyrfalcon, wondering what he was talking about.

 

“Oh, that druid… he’s a lonely old guy, though he’d never admit it, he is. So I pretend to ‘accidentally’ burn myself from time to time and have him heal me, while actually I’m checking up on him… hurts, but it’s worth it,” explained the blacksmith.

 

“Oh… I see…” said Zippy, having misjudged the man at first… he was actually, quite caring… very caring. Zippy didn’t know many people who would submit themselves to fire for another’s sake.

 

“Well, let’s be off,” said the smith, as though it meant nothing to him.

 

The seven men rode out of Palacania with the four (now five, with law) mercenaries and Gyrfalcon following the smith at a slow trot. Soon, they came to the border of Millas’ territory, where the Timberoak Forests began. The seven then dismounted, and tied led their horses the rest of the way along a narrow path; the path appeared infrequently traveled but well blazed, as though a person came through here regularly, but not often enough for it to stay well cared for.

 

They followed the path for about a quarter-hour, and they came upon a small clearing before a medium sized, thatch roof hut… surrounded by what was unmistakably Sephinroth. The Sephinroth were throwing things out of the hut, and going through them; they were looking for something, and hadn’t found it yet, apparently.

 

There were two people that appeared to be supervising the Sephinroth; and they were human… mages, in fact; a man and a woman.

 

As Gyrfalcon looked upon the scene, his throat tightened… Balladore! he thought. Quickly, he caught the others’ attention, and informed them that they would be fighting. They conferred briefly in whisper about the strategy, and then began to carry it out; Salarak moved out through the trees to the left, and Nathaniel moved to the right. Gyrfalcon climbed a tree nimbly and silently, and nocked an arrow to the string. Avery did the same, and moved from tree to tree with grace, until he was exactly opposite the clearing from Gyrfalcon. Zippy waited with the blacksmith, until the signal was given, though the smith was not armed, he would wait in hiding until the battle was over. Law also panned out to the left, as he claimed that he could “hold his own” in a fight, though exactly what he meant by that was unknown; no one exactly stopped to find out as the Sephinroth were destroying Balladore’s home.

 

Finally, Nathaniel gave the signal. The four swordsman who had stationed themselves equally around the clearing so that the Sephinroth were surrounded charged, and bellowed at the top of their lungs “SNAKEBITE!”

 

Gyrfalcon fired. He took down one of the Sephinroth, and quickly reloaded. Avery did the same, again and again. Meanwhile, in the clearing, a bloodbath was going on. Nathaniel heaved his sword in a mighty arc, cleaving off two of the (approximately) twenty dark soldiers’ heads. Salarak defended one blow and took another to the shoulder; he was bleeding badly. Zippy was twirling his twin daggers and dealing damage constantly, making a back thrust just before one of the enemy stabbed him in the back, and slicing the throat of one in front of him.

 

As he charged, Law flung a knife at the nearest enemy, catching him in the chest and taking him down. Quickly, he drew another, and with a flick of his wrist sent it at the female mage; to his surprise, it exploded in a shower of sparks mere inches from her throat.

 

Damn! thought the young man… this wouldn’t be as easy as he had predicted, and he was running out of room to run. As a Sephinroth rushed at him he drew another throwing knife, and performed a cartwheel to avoid the oncoming enemy. While he was upside down in the middle of the cartwheel, he threw the knife right at the back of his attacker; the knife found its mark, bringing down the Sephinroth.

 

Mysteriously, through this all, the two magus had stayed out of the fighting, except to defend themselves. Gyrfalcon noticed this, and sent an arrow towards the man. The arrow, like Law’s knife, burst into flames and disintegrated before reaching it’s mark, and Gyrfalcon cursed to himself.

 

In the clearing, the fighting had stopped. All the Sephinroth were dead, and the mages weren’t raising them, miraculously. Law had a knife wound in his leg. Zip was also wounded, with a deep gash in his side; Nathaniel, however, had escaped with merely a small cut under his right eye.

 

Now, surveying the result of the battle, the mages laughed.

 

“Worthless Sephinroth,” stated the man, “Andréa? Shall we destroy them?”

 

For a moment, the woman surveyed the group, and noted the marksmen who were still aloft, and had arrows on the string ready to fly at them, before responding, “We’ll leave them for another day, Bartholomew.”

 

“Where is Balladore?!” yelled Gyrfalcon from behind his bow, and the two looked up at him.

 

“You tell us; we were looking for him, but apparently Lady Luck favored him, letting him be gone for our little “visit,” replied Andréa with a sneer.

 

“Andréa, let us be gone, quickly,” said the man, now with fear evident in his voice, for some reason.

 

“For another day, then, your lordships,” said the female mage with another sneer, and with a snap of their fingers, the two dissipated.

 

Swinging down from the trees, Avery and Gyrfalcon examined the wounds, attempting to care for them as best as possible, with all of them wondering where Balladore was.

[Guest Balladore]

Suddenly, as if in remembrance of the battle they had just fought, a knife came from nowhere and took root in a tree painfully close to Avery’s head. Quickly, the marksman leapt away from Gyrfalcon, who was attempting to tend to his wounds and nocked an arrow to his bowstring. He drew the bow, aiming it in the direction that the knife had come from.

 

“Hold your fire,” called Nathaniel. “We mean you no harm; we were trying to save the poor-“

 

Doroday was interrupted by a rather clear message—another throwing knife that landed in the ground near where he was sitting; right between his legs.

 

“Ok, ok… I get the point; no time for talking,” said Nathaniel nervously, and scooted himself back a few inches. He had a feeling that that knife was meant to miss…

 

“We have you surrounded!” came an old voice from the opposite side of the clearing where the knives had been coming from.

 

Probably the commander, dammit… thought Gyrfalcon nervously… he should’ve known those two mage’s retreat was to hasty to be trusted; they just went for more of the damned Sephinroth.

 

“Who are you, and why have you done this?” came a female voice from the trees where the knives were coming from.

 

“We didn’t do this! We saved the place from the people who were!” yelled Salarak, his eyes blazing red. “And if you don’t believe us, we’ll just have to defend ourselves!” he continued, drawing his broadsword and moving off in the direction of the female voice; only to stop dead in his tracks when yet another knife reflected off of the sword he was carrying with a metallic ping!

 

“I wouldn’t move any further, hothead,” came the first voice, the older male. A moment later, vines grew around Salarak’s legs and intertwined themselves, holding him where he was…

 

Wait a minute… thought Gyrfalcon to himself… I’ve seen that before… and there have only been two people talking thus far… perhaps he isn’t being completely honest…

 

To affirm his suspicions, the blacksmith quickly crawled over to where Gyrfalcon was, and said “I know that voice! It’s—“

 

“Shh!” whispered Gyrfalcon, nodding… he knew who it was as well.

 

“You didn’t answer all of my question,” came the female voice again. “Who are you?”

 

Before Gyrfalcon could dissolve the conflict, the ranger in their group spoke up: “I am Avery Bladesong, son of Mossflower Bladesong, daughter of the Druid Balladore and the elf Aurora. Salarak was indeed truthful when he said that this was no work of ours; you have my word, grandfather.”

Edited by: Balladore at: 5/12/02 10:34:13 pm