Forsaken, by Chrome

Chapter 1

Down the dirt path of northern stretch beyond Tantallon, two rather
curious figures were riding towards Hobbitat.  One was a human, male,
with such dusty clothes you'd never guess they were white in the first
place.  He was riding a very strange mount, which seemed to be a giant
rat, though it's eyes gleamed with extreme intelligence. Its fur coat
was likewise covered with brown and red dirt.
  The other was a female half-elf, with fine silk robes hiding a suit of 
powerfully crafted dwarvish mithril chain.  A golden symbol labeled her a 
cleric on the spot, and her clothes were those of an apprentice.
  Breaking the silence of the calm morning, the human took out a small 
flute, played a few notes and sang:

  "I was travelling on the road,
   With an Ambassador in tow,
   To Hobbitat we go,
   And a treaty we will..."

"Hrm. Forge doesn't exactly rhyme, does it?"
  The half-elf shot the would-be bard a vicious glare.  "It's bad enough
I'm on the road, and without food, but why exactly was I assigned a body
guard of a horrible singer and a giant talking rat?"
  The large rodent turned it's head towards the cleric and said, "Hey, I 
heard that."
  The human simply replied, "We're the best."
  "So I've been told, by General Newtus, but he's not exactly fully on the 
ball, is he?"
  "The man loves his drinks, what can I say?"
  The cleric gave a sigh of resignation, and leaned back in the saddle of 
her snowy white horse.
  The rat suddenly stopped, and reared up on it's hind legs, tossing the
human off. The rider nimbly landed on his toes, drew a broadsword off
his back even before he hit the ground, and slipped another weapon into
his left hand. The other weapon resembled a dagger, but with a foot long
blade it was more of a dirk. On the other hand, the blade was straight,
and the weapon had a hilt guard. Meanwhile, the cleric dismounted and
took a large spiked club and a kite shield from the horses' saddle bags.
  An orcish hunting party was heading their way, undoubtedly trying to
stop any alliance between Tantallon and Hobbitat by killing the
messengers. The warrior dropped into a defensive crouch, and began to
mumble under his breath. Mere seconds later a blast of bright white
light shot out from his left hand and slammed into the chest of an orc
carrying a crossbow. At this, the others broke out into an all out
charge.
  "The losses of war," sighed the paladin, Though, at the back of his
head, he was glad for repreive - his groin was starting to hurt, riding
for days like that. He smiled. Antana would just love to know what he
was thinking.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  "You're joking, right?"
  "'Fraid not, sire"
  "What about those two I sent?"
  "No trace of them, sire, but we found some torn clothes, looking like 
theirs."
  "Damn. Two of my best, lost.  And that rat too, he was growning on me."
  "I think he was growing just a little too big. Gave me the willies."
  "Ah, whassa-matta? Likkle Tyke scared 'o dah big mousey wousey?"
  "Pardon me, sire, but that's not very kingly-like."
  "I suppose you're right, Newtus. But I'm not getting any younger."
  "Your son is fit to take the throne, sire. Unlike King Drin's Gilbert,
who is a disgrace to his father's name."
  "I just don't think it's time for me to retire. I don't want to be 
big-headed, but the townspeople seem to love me."
  "They do, sire."
  "Then let an old man rest a bit longer?"
  "Yes sire."
  Newtus smiled inwardly. His lord hadn't lost it yet. Not by a long
shot.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  The island was clean and very uninhabited. Unless you counted the
orcish war fort established here. The island's most prominent feature
was it's volcano. It was the type you'd expect to find in old cannibal
stories, and the one you'd think of as a sacrifice hole. And the kind
that into which were being lowered into a human, a half-elf, and a
rather large rat.
  "At least my horse got away," the cleric sighed.
  "Oh, come'on Laya, we'll be fine."
  "Yeah, you're not going to be burned. You're going to get eaten raw."
  "Bah, at least ol' Munch isn't getting eaten."
  "Even orcs have a certain level they don't sink to. Eating rats is
just that."
  "Hey, he's my friend, lay off."
  "He's my friend too. And we're about to be together for eternity."
  An orcish guard poked them with the butt of his spear. "Hey, you two
better stop talking. Or you'll end up as shishkabob instead of steak."
  "Wow, what a choice," Laya replied dryly.
  "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to these intelligent western 
mist orcs. They're like the enemy we have in our worst nightmares."
  A large orc covered in black finery stood and looked at the pair
hanging in their little nets.
  "Who are you, and what are you doing on our lands?"
  "I am Layanthes The High Priestess of Tantallon.  This is some ass of a 
fellow -"
  "Heh. That's me I suppose."
  "- who trailed me from the town. I present Chrome Sethic, some
elvish heritage even though his ears do not show."
  "And the rat?"
  "A horrible experiment gone wrong. The sage was sent to jail, but my 
friend here wanted to keep his pet."
  "Hrm. You two look like the equivalent of human teenagers. What are
you doing in such high positions?"
  "I am the one in a high position, and I'm 84, alright?"
  "And I AM a teenager, though only a grunt in the military."
   The black orc stood before them for some time. Finally, he said:
"You're obviously lying, even Humans are smart enough to protect those
of importance with highly trained soldiers. But no matter, You will
become dinner for us anyway."
  As they hung in their net in the late afternoon, they could see the
sky become purple and orange. The light flashed off the light waves, and
glared along the island's surface. The various stumps along the ground
showed where the orcs had cut down trees for war machines.  All that
remained was large stretches of sand surrounding the fiery mountain of
death, above which they were hanging.
  "You know, in human fairy tales, this is where I would be saved by a hero. 
Not that you're one," Laya remarked wistfully after hours of silence.
  "Wow, what made your attitude turn sour? Oh, right, the net. It's not my 
fault, alright? Stop taking it out on me."
  "You're right... I'm sorry. I guess being near death makes me edgy."
  "Does that mean you're facing death all the time?"
  He should probally have thought about his situation before he went 
mouthing off.  After suffering a barrage of quick blows, he whispered,  
"Wait, shhh! They're coming!"
  A large group of orcish shamans were heading their way, carrying all sorts 
of sacrificial objects.
  "I hope your hero comes soon, because we're in deep turd."
  "Still with a mind of a child in our position. I'm actually impressed."
  Chrome sighed.  He reached into a pocket that seemed to hold nothing,
and pulled out a small cylinder.  He pushed a small button, and out from
the top popped a tiny blade. He cut through the ropes, releasing them...
into the volcano's dormant maw.
  Moments later, they found themselves floating through the lava, surrounded 
by a shield of pure white light, and floating into a cave.
  Laya, shocked through the whole thing, suddenly became very angry. "If
you knew about that, then why didn't you get us out of there earlier?!?"
  "Well, you see... I didn't know we were going to land safely, what
with us in a volcano and all. I eventually left it all up to Antana and
Paladine."
  "Feh. I prayed for a protection from fire shield."
  "Well, you don't seem to have a lot of faith in our gods."
  "I don't have a lot of faith in YOU."
  "Fair enough. Now, I need to go get Munch."
  "You never told me why you named him Munch."
  "Come on! Ever since we ran around as little children, I've been telling 
you!"
  "I never listened, so come on."
  "Well, He used to be Nibbles. But then Old Crazy Eynsty got his hands on 
formerly-named-nibbles, and oversized him. He doesn't exactly nibble 
anymore, does he?"
  "Fair enough. Let's go."
  They began the long, hard task of climbing the wall.  They slipped
many times, but were always caught by the other.
  They climbed over the lip of the cliff... and came face to face with 18 
shamans, warriors, and the black orc himself.
  Laya smiled. Always testing her, They were.
  In a quick blur, Chrome blasted off a bolt of energy, followed by a
flurry of rapid blows on the front orc. The orc dropped the club he was
carrying and fell hard to the floor.
  Laya picked up the club, and they continued, back to back, clubs and
fists continuing to beat orcs senseless.  Finally, only the black orc
himself was standing, and just barely.
  "Stand back," Laya warned. Chrome understood. When you anger the High 
Priestess of Tantallon, you invoke the wrath of a well trained fighter.
If many knew her past, they'd still love her as their High Priestess.  She 
was adored throughout, and Chrome was sure the town would continue to adore 
her even if they learned of her street life past.  A great quality in a 
High Priestess.
  "I guess old friends aren't allowed that luxury," he muttered to
himself, remembering the beating in the net.
  The half-elf looked relaxed, flipping the club from left hand to
right. The orc looked poised as well.  No more cowering nonsense.
  "C'mon over, yeh scummy turd, stop standing there like an ass!" Laya 
called, falling into street brawler common.
  "Nice way to present yourself, Priestess," snarled the orc.  He
gripped two shortswords and started his attack; left, up, left, right,
down, cross, both arms. He was stepping an elaborate dance of death, and
when he was only a cubit away, Laya sprung to action.
  Using her feet for leverage, she crouched, then shot off like a
sprinter to the orc's right, with the club ourstretched. The orc
recieved a blow to the face and fell back. Laya came out of the pass
with only a minor scratch on the arm. She continued the attack, her plan
clearly to push the other into the lava. The fight ended in mere
seconds, and the black robed figure toppled down, hit the lava and
burned up. Leya spit off the cliff, smacking the still-burning body
on the back.
  "How very religious of you," Chrome remarked.
  Laya turned, embarrassed, but quickly composed herself. Chrome
smirked, turned around, and headed off towards where Munch hung. Laya
prepared the orc's boat, and the pair released the rat-being. 
  "All in a typical day of an adventurer," ran the thought in all three
minds as they turned back towards their original goal, Hobbitat.



Chapter 2: Revelations

     or

  Something's screwy here, and I want clarification.

  "Sire? Sire? Wake up! Wake up!"
  "He's dead, Newtus. Dead. D-E-A-D."
  "Who the... Vio...Vio... Viorn? You're dead!"
  "No, Newtus. He is. I, on the other hand, am very much alive. Enough
so that I can kill you."
  "You can try, but why?"
  "You left me for dead, Newtus. In the Realm of Hell, when I needed you
and King Lornus most, you left me for dead."
  "But... We thought you were dead."
  "Ah, yes. We escaped, Newtus. We cheated death. Formed a pact with the    
Dark one, yes."
  "You... all... No! This is a dream! We banished the Dark one!"
  "Ah, so you thought. You left us for dead, Newtus. Now we have our    
revenge on the world. Each one of us, infsed with powers beyond your    
imagination. Beyond. You heard me. Beyond and beyond."
  "Pity Richard didn't believe in guards. He trusted me... trusted..."
  "Ah, but our friend Lornus here -"
  "- Is still alive."
  "Lornus! How? I stabbed you with the Blade of Twingoth!"
  "Yeah, right through the armour of Glorious Morning. Right. Evil can't    
harm it, idiot."
  "Nevermind. Both of you prepare to - Aghhh.."
  "Thanks, Newtus."
  "No problem."
  "Now what?"
  "We send out, alert the realm, get help."
  "I guess. But will the realm be able to stand against a pissed off        
Dwarven God?"
  "Love spread through the land..."
  "Reciting children's poems?"
  "The answer lays within..."
  "Really? Amazing... let's get our scholar... find the children...    
anything..."
  "Yes, Sir!"
  "No, you're the king, remember?"
  "You're handing out orders. Ok, then... Yes, Subordinate!"
  "Glad to know you haven't lost your sense of humor"
  "We're gonna need it in times to come..."
  "Don't like the sound of that..."

   -------------------------------------------------------------------

  "Oh, the Birdie went south, to fly by the barn,
   The kitty followed close, chasing a ball of yarn,
   The mouse led the way, Jumping all the way
   The shadow followed after."

  "Good Antana. That's a pretty twisted tale..." General Newtus said.
  "Ah, but not the the children... we pretend that the shadow's a god, not a 
demon, and tada!" replied Damas, the great Scholar of Tantallon.
  "You're lying to children, Damas. You're lying to them."
  "Yeah, well it teaches, right?"
  General Newtus shook his head.  Where in the world did Tantallon gain such 
carefree attitudes? Liuetenant Chrome came back with a report in the form of 
a series of limericks, and now their most wizened scholar had started to 
tell evil, evil, evil tales to the children...
  He smiled. He could play too. It was his birthright.
  He poked Damas in the eye.
  "Ouch! You frip-jappin..."
  Newtus ran like a schoolchild, scrambling away.
  "Elders these days..." Damas shook his head.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------

  "Hi, we're your new room mates!"  Said the Tall Male.
  "Yeah, and we're here to bargain with your king." Said the Medium Female.
  Kipp didn't know what to do. "I joined the Hobbit War Patrol to help 
the king, not talk to tall folk!" he fumed to himself.
  What a strange scene it must've seemed.  A short hobbit facing two
larger beings.  And the palisade around the town was only about four
cubits high. The two visitors could probally scale it.  The day was a
light spring one, in the month of Evensend.  Birds in the air, animals
squeaking, dragons rumbling... the blades of grass shook like the last
survivors of a great massacre as a large scaly green dragon rumbled up.
  "You. You are Laya Amros of the Eldar Coalition, High priestess of
Tantallon?"
  The half-elf was visibly trying to intimidate the dragon as she stepped 
up. "Yes. That would be I. Is something the matter?".  Now, up on her 
tiptoes, she appeared to be trying to stare the dargon down.
  "Yes. You are to report a Temple of Antana immediatly. And get me some 
food."
  The image of the great hulk standing there shimmered to nothing.  In
it's place was a most peculiar rat, standing 18 cubits tall. 
The beast put two paws on the priestess' sleeves and tugged gently - as
gently as it could, anyway. The light jerk brought the half-elf
crashing to the dirt path leading into Hobbitat.  The rat adopted a look
of pleading, its eyes threatening to engulf its face. Very hard for a
beady-eyed creature. We're talking bambi-sized here.
  "Me Hungwy!" It bawled in a baby-like voice.
  "Ugh. I'm regretting giving you that Morph-Stone. And no food until we 
meet Hobbitat's Lord!"
  "There! Seeeeeez Himmmmmm!"
  A round, stout (even more so than normal halflings) Halfling poped out
of a hole in the ground, trailed by another group of them wielding long
spears.  The hobbit was dressed in finery, but with a strange fabric,
allowing the dirt to slide right off.  There were frills almost
everywhere. (I really need to work on my descriptive writing. it's
really dragging my grades down...) The hobbit's words rolled off his
tongue like a landslide, causing him to repeat the last sylable by
dragging it out.
  "That's It! Kill him! Antana demands his corpse!"
  Chrome raised an eyebrow. The paladin didn't know of Antana demanding
any sacrifices but time... and certainly not of her faithful...
  "The temples all over! the statues speak! All of the Paladin faith
must be killed! Chaos must rule, Antana says she steps down!"
  This was new. No time, instinct or nothing now... Hate to kill
innocents... tainted by Chaos, by their nasty sandwiches. Chrome smiled
inwardly. Even during times like this... He shook his head. Mother
would be proud.
  Throwing himself on the first hobbit, he gripped the warrior's staff,
and spun it into the ground. As the hobbit tried to get it out, Chrome
kicked him on the side of the head. The little man went flying. Chrome
ripped the spear out of the ground.  Spinning with it in hand brought
him a bit out of control. He hadn't thought Hobbit spears would be so
heavy. The extra momentum made him go of like a top, the point stabbing
3 more in the head before he slowed down. He bolted for the forest,
Laya tossing him his sword, Munch following close behind. One
question echoed in his head: "What in hell is going on?"



Chapter 3: The War begins

        or

Attack, defend, Red team has your flag!

  Corvin the dwarf sighed to himself.  Then, a pace and a half away,
Jarrla the dwarf sighed to herself.  Tanzer followed suit, adding a
beard stroke. So the process went, down the line of dwarven sentries. It
was a strange sight. In the awesome Mountain-Mounted Offensive Dwarvish
Fortress Number One, the greatest to be built, stood a comical line of
dwarves.  The fortress was set into the mountain, looking like half a
castle sticking right out.  Jagged rocks of the mountain and high winds
make it nearly undefeatable. Nearly. One narrow path, just perfect for
dwarves to use, could also be used for assaults. That is, if the enemy
could fight up past the sentry towers.
  Corvin peered out, and saw some caravans moving in towards the
fortress.  Hopefully they're hostile, Corvin thought to himself.  He'd
not seen battle for a long time.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  Caravans in the group were all small and red, with a yellow trim. 
They were all driven by a little halfling driver and had little halfling
ponies pulling it. Inside each caravan was a regiment of hobbit
warriors, a group of hobbit advisors, or a gaggle of hobbit generals. 
Each was pondering whether this whole mission could be pulled off. Peace
in the realm. Their size meant they would be taken for granted when war
finnally broke out. Everyone knew it. Tensions between Chaos, the
Scythe, and the Knights had already been stretched. And now, with the
gods suddenly releasing paladins and clerics from their protection, it
seemed that Drin was the weaker target.  "Better to not be overlooked or
overtrampled," Mayor Thumbug had said. "We strike now, we guarantee an
alliance with a strong force," he had said.  Thumbug wasn't fighting the
dwarves.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  Corvin readied his Thunderbolt Team.  They were "the Fightingest
Fighter Dwarves on this side of Fortress One".  Corvin was a long-time
war veteran and a great fighter.  His parents had died in fights with
the Scythe, and he had lost his sister to them too.  He attacked the
Scythe encampment with his bare hands, and did considerable damage
before his corpse was tossed back over the palisade walls. Well, what
was THOUGHT to be his corpse.
  Jarrla was just a generic dwarf warrior, with the exception of being a
battlerager. Known amoung humans as berserkers, these warriors were as
dangerous as a tornado on the battlefield - to both enemies and allies. 
She was covered with blades, axes, and even spikes attached to her
armour. Three large horns stuck out of her helmet, and one of them
being larger than the others made her look like a giant beetle.
  Tanzer held a Cross-Musk, an ingenious tool of the dwarves which was a
normal crossbow combined with a large blade sticking out of the front.
It's ammunition was a larger than normal bolt that included sticklers
which held onto the target and continued to hurt him whenever he moved. 
The blade itself was hard to use off the weapon, but when wielded
correctly the contraption was one of the most dangerous weapons on the
battlefield.
  And lastly there was Gorfien. The tallest dwarf known, he stood almost
3 cubits tall. He was also rather slender and graceful for a dwarf. He
was a half-breed.  His elf mother and dwarf father had somehow fallen in
love, and from that forbidden marriage came Gorfien.  He wielded a long,
slender blade made of powerful glass, forged from within the Fortress
One. He suprised his enemies with smoke bombs, small sacks with sand
which were perfect for making the enemy's eyes sting.
  These four were the Thunderbolt Team. It was small, but they only
accepted the best of the greatest of the best. Outside, the battle had
already begun, the nimble halflings had sprung up the walk easily and
quickly. Their halberds, shortswords, and daggers clanged and banged
against those of the dwarves.  Soon, however, with the Thunderbolts on
the offense, the ranks of hobbits broke and many of the halflings flew
off the cliffs. In the early morning, small figures were thrown from
the ledges, leaving the ground below a bloody mess. Ruining the beauty
of surrounding forest, the dry brown dirt soon ran awash with blood.
Sometime near noon, the few remaining hobbits retreated, and even
then many were gunned down by crossbows, a warning for them to never
come back.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------

  "I made a minor error," Thumbug muttered.
  "You made a huge mistake, leaving our armed forces ruined. None of the
survivors could remember any dead dwarves," replied General Forner, his
tone sharp. The two were arguing about the recent failed attack. "You
should never have tried war," Forner continued.
  Then, a slim dagger found its way through Forner's back and into his
heart. The poison spread quickly, stopping the general's bodily
functions before anything could be done.  A shadowy figure stepped out
from the darkness.
  "Thank you, Orchard, he was begining to get on my nerves."
  The human woman simply smiled sweetly, and added more poison to the blade.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------

  Chrome sighed. It'd been 6 days since he ran, bolted from society. 
Now he stood on a mountain path with his only companion, Munch. The
spiraling, spire-shaped mountain rose rather sharply and reached past
the clouds. No one who climbed it ever returned.  People named it the
Pillar to the Heavens, and believed that anyone who made it became a god
or the right hand of a god. Chrome dearly hoped that the gods were up
there. It was his last resort. He had to figure this out.
  The paladin stopped, and pondered to himself: "Why in all the realm
did they make the stairway to heaven this tall? Why? It was stupid! No,
don't think that. That's blasphemy." He smiled to himself. Even his own
mind was arguing with him.
  Munch squeaked out suddenly. It had found a small cave, an alcove only
a pace deep. "I wonder what this is for..." it muttered to itself.
  Chrome looked up from his thoughts. "Go ahead, I dare you to step in
it."
  "You go first."
  "Together?"
  "Eh. Why not?"
  They stepped into the alcove together.



Chapter 4: The Truth is revealed

        or

Wow, Holy Cow pie! I didn't know that!

  Krath the elf was almost sure he was going to die.  He had defied Villa 
openly. "Stupid stupid stupid..." He'd been listening to too many hero 
stories. Voices. Three people, by the sound of it.
  "Get the traitor. Break."
  The room had two doors, one on either side, and there was a long
hallway, with plenty of pillars. There was 16 pillars one way and 32 the
other, and each pillar was 3 paces apart. It was a training ground for
the rogues. They could play strategy games using the spaces between the
pillar as... spaces for movement. Their favorite pastime, however, was
the hunt. Each person was armed with training gear, and launched into
the room to fight each other. Enchantments on the training suits told
them all that they needed to know: which of their allies were alive, and
more importantly how much more punishment they could take before being
out of the game.
  "This is just another training exercise." Krath muttered under his breath. 
He added to himself, "Only now, it's real..."
  "B-14! Get him!"
  Krath sighed.  B-14. They'd got him. He slipped two throwing daggers
out from under his sleeves. "Let's get it on..."
  He sprang up along the nearest pillar, his rogue reflexes carrying him
far up before gravity kicked in As he rounded the stone column, one of
his pursuers came into view. He launched the daggers, but missed. The
daggers merely glanced off the stone near his target. Krath swore to
himself.
  "I gotcha, you little rat bastard!" the opponent screamed. He was
closing in fast, a rapier in one hand and a hilt-guarded dagger in the
other.
  Krath drew out two longswords. Their matching hilts featured a dragon
and a tiger. He brought them together in a cross, and slashed his enemy
through the chest, as if he was using a pair of scissors. The man fell
over, halved by the might of the ancient Twin Blades of Kar Lurra.
  Krath flashed through the room and was racing for the exit when the
other two guards dropped in.
  "Prepare to die, traitor," one said. The other saved his breath for a
sudden charge.
  Krath's blades flashed in and out, left and right, up and down,
parrying, blocking, and fending off every attack. Then, his adversary
made a deadly mistake in a stroke, allowing Krath to turn his parry into
a riposte. He ripped flesh from the man's face and killed him in a blow.
He turned to the next man and slammed a foot into his knee, sending the
rogue crashing to the ground. Krath sprinted off, glad to be free.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------

  "Welcome, child, to the land of gods." Antana's voice swept through 
Chrome's body like a medicine of holy power, calming all his senses and
nerves. He found it hard to remain alert through this, but it was 
his duty. "Calm down, son paladin.  Why have you come?"
  "Obvious, isn't it, dear?" Paladine said, rolling up on a cloud.  He 
turned his attention to Chrome. "Oh, hi lad! I see that you follow my 
religion! Good on you... then again, what would you expect me to say?"
  The tone struck him as all wrong.  Paladin was supposed to be upright, 
strict, and honorable. Goofing off was HIS job!
  "Ah, not too pleased with your god's attitude, eh? Well, it WAS your 
choice to come up here!" The irrepressible god beamed down at him. "You're 
here to find out about the false oracles, aren't you?" Paladine continued, 
subdued somewhat.  "Well then... let's see..." The god of paladins pulled 
out a large heavenly tome and began searching.  Chrome began to fall asleep, 
as Antana urged him to rest. The climb had been tiring.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  "Please, help me!" Laya screamed, surrounded by a group of 6 bugbears.  
"Please!"
  "Haha! Helfy be gud fer fun!" one of the bugbears laughed, obviously 
thinking about what to do with their new prisoner. Laya had other plans.
  Launching forward on two feet, she slammed both elbows into the first
bugbear, killing him by making his face cave in. The other five
immediately sprang into action, but not fast enough. Out of nowhere, she
brought a holy staff of clerics, and it's light lanced into the
bugbears, causing each one of them to melt, to die away.
  "I love this thing." Laya sighed, and hugged the staff in close.

  -----------------------------------------------------------------

  "Steady, Steady..." Newtus whispered, slowly placing the Ace of hearts on 
the top of his card castle. "Slowly... Slowly..."

                               WHAM!

  The castle fell. The general rose. The knight who had slammed the door
ran off in great pain.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------

  "Well... There is another group of gods, spawned from the evil gods.
They plan on taking over our positions, but seeing as we're immortal, we
agreed on a full scale mortal war.  Our creations and believers versus
theirs.  The hobbits have already fallen under their control... But we
believe in allowing our warriors to make choices, not control them
directly."
  "You're placing a lot of faith in us..." Chrome muttered, after the tale 
of horror was related to him.
  "Yes, we are." Paladine concluded.
  "You're the first mortal to want to return after visiting..." Antana 
commented.
  "I have duties to friends... allies, enemies." Chrome answered.
  "Ah, but of course. I just meant, that you'd be the first to bring godly 
powers back with you"
  "What?"
  Antana's mouth became a slightly mischievous grin.
  "We can boost you, right? It's about time paladins got an upgrade."
  "Right then!" Paladine cut in, plopping a winged helmet, a shiny 
breastplate, and a round strudy shield on the paladin. "When those become 
worthy, we bestow upon them the Archangel... the spirit of a lost paladin 
comes to help you, infusing you with their power."
  "This sounds a bit corny and overpowered. A bit like those old "Prince 
kill dragon, save princess, get married" things. You know, where the prince 
gets a whole lotta magic stuff that makes him invincible?" Chrome grinned.
  "Oh, but of course!" Paladine said. "You're the first step in saving this 
realm!"
  "Nuts. Responsibility. You know I'm bad with that! You're Gods, for
gods' sake!"
  "Yes. We believe in you!" Paladine said, seriously. Then, with a gust
of wind, the young paladin was sent crashing to the ground.



Chapter 5: On The Road Again

         or

Drunk, Again? Really Now, That's Enough!

  "Complete and total bull..." Chrome muttered to himself.  He'd found the 
'Holy Relics' In his sack when he'd awoken. Good Antana, that'd been strong 
liqour. But where did the gear come from?  He buried his face in his hands. 
"Please don't tell me I stole from someone..." His muffled voice came 
through his palms.
  "Alright," a voice came from behind him. It was Munch. "You didn't
steal from someone." Its voice came through in high-pitched squeaks.
  The human turned and frowned.  "Where did you come from?" he asked.
  "Good morning to you too, sunshine." The rat replied sarcastically.
  A voice rang out: "Ah! Good travelers! Please, guide an old man to
Tantallon?" The two of them turned around to face an old, wrinkled
human, in flowing white robes which seemed to absorb dirt and still
remain white as pure snow.  The old man's appearance had startled them
greatly, especially without any forewarning of his arrival.
  On pure instinct, Chrome unsheated his broadsword, and asked, "Who the 
hell are you?"
  "Haha! A young 'un who isn't so filled with respect that a single prick 
would release a wave of humility even King Drin would tire of!"
  Chrome grinned at the old man's remark. "You're not from Tantallon, are 
you?"
  The old man grinned back, and nodded. "Yes, we Tantallonians do have an 
innate sense of humor not understood by the other races, don't we?"
  "C'mon, y'geezer, climb onto my back. We were just going there for some 
beer. Lucky you met us." Munch dipped down low for the old man to climb on.
  Chrome glanced over at their new companion. "What's your name, anyway?"
  "Enip. Enip Erif."
  "What a queer name."
  "For a queer fellow," the old man replied, beaming wide.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  The tavern was large, maybe 32 paces by hundred. Very, very large. It
also doubled as in inn. Half of the building had rented quarters.
It was crowded. In every corner, around every table, all over, in 
shadows and in light, tne entire place was packed up with visitors of
all races. People came for information, to meet others, to talk, to
rest... and to hide. The tavern was shadowed and lit evenly, causing a
strange contrast. The place had a friendly atmosphere. All throughout,
it would take 3 days for anyone to find a good hider.
  Krath smiled. It would do nicely.
  The tavern was called the Wayside Resort.  No one knew why. The owner
was a person from Puffin Beach, maybe that had something to do with it.
Some people simply thought it called that because "Wayside Resort" was a
good name for the inn. On the other hand, the inn was in the middle of
the northern tundra. No one in their sane mind would name the inn that.
Then, maybe the innkeeper wasn't sane.
  Rumors and tales floated all around, and Krath absorbed it all with
his sensitive elvish ears.
  "This seat taken?" asked a young elvish girl about his age, who also
seated herself without waiting for response.  Then, a dagger flashed,
her arm arched and brought the blade crashing down on Krath's skull. Or,
where it SHOULD have been. Instead, the girl came face to face with a
dragon about the size of her fist, attached to a sword which Krath was 
wielding. 
  "Not another assassin..." Krath sighed.
  "Yes. Another. You will die for your betrayal."
  Krath swung his foot up, catching the would-be assassin full in the face 
and knocking her unconscious.
  "Thank the gods for steel-toed boots..." Krath mumbled to himself.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  Tanzer and his company dropped down the last ledge on the base of the
mountain supporting Fortress One. They were being sent on a mission to
recover the Helm of the Angels, a relic that should allow their clerics
to successfully call to the gods.
  Target one was Mt. Redundancy Mountain. Named by gnomes, the title was
somehow fitting.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------

  The jail cell shut with a clang.
  Chrome looked over those in the cells by him. To the right sat a
barbarian, probally captured by orcs for slave labor. To the left, he
could see a young human woman, probally captured for a harem. Then he
looked over at Enip, then glanced down at himself. Probally captured for
beating the living daylights out of 3 orcish legions on the way of
escorting the former to Tantallon. He grinned to himself.
  Then he rolled out of his cot, and said in a voice loud enough to hear
by all those around him, "Hey, what are you people called?"



Chapter 6: Rescue

        or

Convicts let loose.

  Krath, sitting alone in the darkness, heard a voice ring out from a 
diagonal cell.
  "Hey, what are you people called?"
  "Krath. Just Krath," he replied to the voice.
  He heard a gruff voice ring out: "My name is Knux, of the Shapeshifters, 
I am one of the feline clan."
  "Heh. Formality," Krath heard the first voice say.
  "Don't worry about him. The orcs dragged his body down here. What was left 
of their raiding force, anyway." This voice was female. Human, probally. 
Nepethian accent.
  The first voice came back. "My name's Chrome, Chrome Sethic, and this is 
my friend Enip."
  "Sethic?" Krath asked. "Sethic's an elven name... Your voice is human."
  "Raised by elves." Chrome replied.
  "Not taught their mannerisms, by the sound of your voice."
  "I'm grinning, you just can't see." Chrome said. "So, what's your story, 
Madam?"
  The female voice came out. "I am Swordmaster Farl, from Nepeth. I got 
captured by orcs."
  "Ah. and your crime?"
  "Killing. 2 legions."
  "And yours, Krath?"
  Krath looked up. No one had ever been so open with him. "Betrayed the 
Ravens, the rogues, and knocked off an orcish warleader. You?"
  "3 Legions."
  "Wow. What about Meow over there?"
  "Hrm," Knux said. "Well, an orcish group found me changing in the
river. They thought me magic and tried to catch me. I took out many of
them."
  Krath pondered all this. Chrome voiced his thoughts.
  "So, what's this, the maximum security vault?"
  Krath nodded. "Yeah."

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  After visiting Mt. Redundancy Mountain, Mt. Abbrev., and Mt. Extrae
Vowelese Fore Exotice Accente, Tanzer and his crew had still not found
the Helm.
  They still hadn't visited Mt. Onomatopoeia. It was more popularly
known to tourists and gnomes alike as 'Mount Boom'. (That was easier to
spell, too.)
  Corvin sighed. The mission had been boring so far, and he didn't
expect much change to come.
  Jarrla looked up from her map. "There's an orc prison further up.
Looks like a maximum security vault."
  Corvin perked up. Finally, something to do.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  The dreams haunted Newtus.  "You left us for dead..." The voices rang, 
ever echoing. Viorn, his dark body alive, even after the great wars...  
Newtus tossed and turned in his military bunk.
  Yet they still came, fast, hard, unforgiving. They ate away at his
very being, coming at him in his subconcious, where he couldn't escape
them.
  Newtus sat up with a cold sweat layering him. He got out of his bunk, 
picked up his wooden training sword, and headed towards the training 
grounds.
  Teaching rookies always helped nightmares, he knew from experience.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  Gorfien was filling a bomb with explosive powder. Jarrla was drinking
flagons full of BattleLust, a brew for warriors. Tanzer was sharpening
the blade on this CrossBlade. 
  Corvin was grinning. He'd never busted people out of jail before.

  -----------------------------------------------------------------

  "We've got a few options." Chrome remarked to those in the cells around 
him. "Trickery, strength," he glanced at Knux, "sex appeal," he glanced
at Farl, "waiting for rescue," he looked down at Enip sleeping on the
floor, "And my favorite... 'Plan X'."
  "What's Plan X?" Krath asked.
  "All of those ideas."
  Krath sighed.

  ------------------------------------------------------------------

  The squires came in hard at their target, two against one.
  Wooden blades cracked and splintered, grunts and gasps came in tough
and ragged, but in a few moments their adversary had downed both of
them.
  Newtus looked up. "Three this time... and please, try to stay
standing." He grinned.
  The rookies all came in, weapons flying.  This was the life, Newtus 
thought.

  -----------------------------------------------------------------

  Chrome read over his list:

1. Break out of jail.
2. Get to the bottom of mystery.
3. Drink at Drudge's.
4. Destroy Evil Gods.
5. Or banish, whatever suits your fancy.
6. Have another drink.
7. If I should die, somebody pray to Paladine and Antana for me to come    
back as a really cool zombie or lich... A good one, of course.

  Then, as an afterthought, he added between the first lines:
"1. a) Find Munch."

  He sat back with satisfaction.
  Then, suddenly, the wall around him was blown to bits.  He struggled
to his feet, and found all his companions and the other prisoners
running through the wreckage, straight into a battle between a group of
dwarves and the orcish guards.  He suddenly realised that the only other
prisoner besides his friends was a large blue troll.
  "Jailbreak!" an orc managed to yell before a bolt blew clear through his 
head.
  "I agree!" shouted the troll, as the prisoners dove into the fray.


(To be continued...)