Hope you don't mind, Bungleau - thought it would be a great idea to put all your chapters in one "basket" so to speak.

Please do not post to this thread! Post to the individual chapters as Bungleau adds them! ;)

Everything in this thread is BUNGLEAU'S work save this and above.

>


**If you've made your way back through the solo warrior writings, you'll find this one is like no other. Taking Missy's adventures and putting them into story format was an idea that started with chapter two, and has continually progressed since then. One day, I may rewrite this chapter to match the others, but I need to finish the entire thing first.**

Okay, I finally got myself back to W&W, and after four tries, was able to reset my game for the arrival of a new adventurer... Missy Hissy, a ratling warrior who's prepared to take the Gael Serran by storm.

So far, we've relearned a couple of lessons.

First, gold is mighty important in the Gael Serran. It took Missy a long time to get enough gold for the Warrior Guild, and she needs still more to get her barbarian promotion, and still more to get a single magic arrow so she can start selling. And since the only things that drop gold fight back, this has been rather challenging.

Second, they... WILL... hunt... you... down... No kidding! Missy ran into a pack of Worgurs, who were tearing her to shreds. She ran back to the gates of Valeia, rested for a few... and there they were! She ran through Valeia and out the other side, rested... and there they were! She went back and forth four or five times until she decided to spend some of her hard-earned gold at the temple for healing. Was down to 6 GP when the last one died...

Third, as always, skill choices are critical. Missy Hissy went with (with her three skill points) Sword, Dagger, and Bow, figuring that she needed offensive firepower. Yeah, offensive firepower like a gnat. At least with her dagger, she can get lots of licks in, and she'll still be able to use it when she get to be a spellcaster... someday...

Fourth, there's some definite advantage of the universal offensive strategy known as RUN!!!!!! After Gorthius' pals turned on him, she scooped up his possessions and gold, and high-tailed it back to Valeia. The three Jade Thieves were too much to take on at once, but on the way back, they got separated... and she was able to shoot one with an arrow, lure him to her, dispose of him, and move on to the next.

She's now level 3, and will probably be level five before she can convert over to Barbarian. It will simply be a question of the amount of gold she can beg, borrow, or steal. Maybe tonight she'll get brave enough to go to the graveyard.

'Course, it's not like we don't know the graveyard. Missy Hissy has died three times already, only to be brought back to life by the Reverse Time spell.

More news as the situation warrants it...

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

[ 05-17-2003, 01:16 PM: Message edited by: Wyvern ]

All was quiet in the Gael Serran last night... as quiet as a graveyard, as a matter of fact. Missy Hissy, lithe ratling warrior, had trained as a barbarian, only now there weren't a whole lot of opponents worthy of her blade.

She headed back towards the graveyard at Bearsault. While she'd been cleaning out some of the undead inhabitants, there was a section she'd waited on. There was a hole in the staircase, and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to get back once she went over.

Sliding into the crypt once more, she was accosted by bands of crypt bats and crypt skeletons as she made her way to the broken stairs. She couldn't see anything in the hole in the stairs, but heard some strange smacking sounds. Looking at the size of the hole, she figured she might be able to jump across without falling down.

Taking a running start, she leaped across the hole, only to realize she'd forgotten she was on a staircase -- and promptly banged her head into the ceiling on the other side of the hole! That threw her balance off, and she tumbled down the rest of the stairs, falling into a large chamber with an ignoble splat .

As she stood up, she heard the smacking sound again, and was beset upon by several slimes. Dispatching them, she delivered a rat pie to Rethpian (who didn't seem too talkative about his brother Bilbump -- must be bad blood in the family), and found a crystal that activated the elevator in the main entry room. Curiuos, she rode up to see what else was around.

In a dank musty chamber, she spied a rotting mummy standing somehow between two pillars. As she approached, nerves on edge (it had been quite a while since she had seen any other creatures, friend or foe), it suddenly spoke, startling her. Without thinking, she grabbed her dagger and began attacking this creature, this F'Lokis Ra. By the time he had finished his words, his un-life force was almost gone, and with one final dagger blow, the rotted corpse eeled to the floor, spitting out a strange necklace as it fell.

Strangely amazed at how easy it had been to slay the mummy, she picked up the necklace and read the inscription on the back. "Sanctus Kerah," she mused. "Maybe I can use this in the room with the Kerah statue somehow. But how do I get there?" For she remembered the Kerah room all too well; it seemed to be a commons area for many of the inhabitants of the crypt, and it was on the other side of the stairs.

Then she remembered the words of Rethpian - that there was a secret room above the tomb of F'Lokis Ra. She began looking around for a door or passage, and soon stumbled on a button in the elevator. Pushing it, she waited, and the elevator started going down. Jumping out of the elevator (and hitting her shoulder on it as it went down), she noticed there seemed to be open space above the elevator. Realizing she didn't have much else to lose, she jumped on top of the elevator as it came back up, and before she was squished on the ceiling like a cockroach, she saw a passage to light, and she ran to it. Moments later, she was out into the room with Kerah's statue.

She ran back to town to do a little more training and sneak her way into the wizard's guild, where she was asked to find out about some former wizard, and then ran back to the crypt, dispatching a pack of worgurs along the way. Back in the crypt, she began exploring near the passage that Kerah had opened up, and soon found herself challenged by rotted corpses, more skeletons, and the occasional overachieving rat.

She came across a pair of ghosts, one apparently a warrior and one a wizard. As they attacked, she returned the favor, realizing soon enough that the ghostly wizard was her real problem. Dagger in hand, she hacked and slashed until he was a pool of ectoplasm melting on the floor, and then focused on the spectral warrior. He soon followed, and two orange crystals remained on the floor. She used one to get a strangely colored doll from a nearby room, and saw another doll high on an altar in a second room. Dragging broken crates, she built herself a tower to reach the second doll, figuring that everything came in useful sometime.

Shortly after, she came across a room with two vestal urns. She placed the other crystal in one urn, but it did nothing. Placed it in the second urn, and again nothing. Puzzled, since she suspected there must be something that would let her continue, she kept trying crystals and urns until it struck her -- the crystal had worked in the rooms where she got the dolls. Maybe she should try the dolls instead!

Placing one of the dolls in one of the urns, a portcullis rose, and she walked through nervously. The more she went in, the farther away she got from the safety of the outside world, and she was feeling pretty well-removed from everything. She made her way through mystical fire and battled more coffin corpses and other undead, and finally ran into the missing wizard.

Only he didn't look like a wizard, more like something you find in the back of the icebox after a few months. Despite repeated warnings, he refused to keep his distance, getting closer and closer to her until she finally took her dagger to him as well. After a few minutes, she stood ankle deep in a pond of decomposing swamp muck, wondering how she was going to explain to the wizard what had happened to his friend. Giving wizards a reason to get even with her was not part of her life's plan...

After speaking with a ghost she met on the other side of the pool, Missy Hissy swore the Sacred Oath of the Mavin and began her journey back to Valeia, now a tenth-level barbarian who was wondering where all those many hit points were that she was promised when she signed up for training.

The wizard didn't mind her dispatching his friend, babbling on about experiments gone wrong and evil, so she sold him a load of jewelry she'd brought back from the crypt and headed over to the warrior's guild, where she could talk with civilized people. She decided that life as a barbarian wasn't quite all it was cracked up to be, and signed up to become a paladin.

After completing the paladin's quest, she headed back to Valeia for some more training, only to discover that the Gwyll she'd slain a few moments earlier had stolen all her gold -- all the gold she'd worked so hard to earn, through the time-honored practices that her father, the wine merchant, had passed along to her. Muttering nastily, she went to the bank to withdraw her emergency fund, building it back up to a reasonable level at the warrior's guild and then redepositing the emergency fund into the bank. "You never know when you're going to need it," she mused. "Too bad they don't have Gael Serran Express Traveler's Cheques. That would make life a whole lot better."

She headed out into the Gael Serran, ready to silence the Warrior Guildmaster and find out what happened to the toads...


***
Okay, now that I've rambled on this for quite some time... would people prefer updates like this (perhaps shorter), or straightforward info like "Did both paths. Killed F'Lokis Ra very easily (almost before he was done talking). Didn't get a real boost in HP from being a barbarian, as expected. Killed Scabban easily as well, and converted to Paladin. Next stop: Toad Village". Or perhaps even to put a cork in it and be quiet about this whole solo warrior thing....

Lemme know.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

[ 05-17-2003, 01:18 PM: Message edited by: Wyvern ]

CHAPTER 3

Evening, in the Gael Serran. Missy Hissy, roused from her slumber, began to journey onward in the fields around Valeia. Rounding a bend, she spied four thieves tending a horse and broken-down wagon. Slipping her sword, she prepared for battle, dispatching them in moments.

"They don't make 'em like they used to," she muttered as she began to work on the locked chest that had fallen from the wagon. As its riches began to fill her pockets, she suddenly noticed that she had more room than she thought -- her gold purse was empty again! "Thieving Rogues!" she exclaimed. "I'll travel to Cet's underworld to kill you again... and again!"

As she began to travel back to Valeia to once again extract her emergency fund, the Gael Serran shimmered for a moment, and she found herself outside Valeia's gates once again. "Ya know, god," she cried out, "you could at least warn me before you cast that reverse time spell!" Considering the battle she knew was ahead, she decided to store her gold in a couple of pockets. That way, if a soon-to-be-bloody thief got one pocket, she'd still have some more with her.

Dispatching the thieves again, she mounted the horse and started her journey toward the Toad Village. As she was travelling, she got a bad feeling about Kerielle, and decided to check on her.

Kerielle was not feeling well, what with the confirmation that Algamesh was truly dead, and was walking around her windmill in quite a daze. In fact, she was so dazed she kept walking into the windmill itself, and her beautiful face was showing the scratches of the long sail-covered wings. Missy Hissy tried to get her to lay down, but to no use: Kerielle kept wandering around. Missy gave her a healing potion, and considered the fact that Kerielle might soon join Algamesh.

"Hmmmm..." she thought. "If I cut her just a little bit, I think I'll gain some blessing from the gods when she dies, just like I do with each creature I slay. And while I don't believe in killing innocents, if she's going to die anyway, I might as well get something out of it.

"But then there's that pesky oath I swore to that ghost in the tomb. While I don't care much for ghosts or promises made to them, my word is the most important thing I have... aside from this good magical longsword. Perhaps I'd better try to follow the spirit of the oath, and not just the letter."

Muttering aside, Missy Hissy stayed her blade in the hopes that Kerielle would come to her senses. As she left the windmill, she saw a raft tied near a dock. climbing on, she found she could travel like the wind. "Well, almost like the wind," she thought. "I never knew there were so many fish in this lake! Every time I turn around, there's another school of piranha waiting to be put to the table. I wonder what someone might pay to swim without having to worry about them..." Pensive, and thinking about Kerielle, she headed north.

She followed the river until its end, and then walked more until she came across a small lake. Spying some huts on stilts, she climbed up and ran into Ekbu, a Toad who did not like warm-skins and made no bones about it. Remembering the conversation with old Mekdawa, she said "Ukabu" to Ekbu. Ugg-bu.

Ekbu went gaga when she simply said the word, and ushered her to Shinwiki, the chief shaman of the Toad people. He told her about a great evil, but would not accept her offers of help to try to take care of it. Something about toad warriors being grumpy and fighting all the time. Frustrated, she walked away, and then remembered Mekdawa's magic word again. "Ukabu," she said, feeling a little silly as the Toad children snickered at her ratling accent. Like they could order a decent meal in a rattling restaurant... she thought.

Shinwiki went gaga over the Ukabu thing as well, asking her to defeat the evil and opening a door in the floor that led to it. Funny, she should have noticed that when she came in... gonna have to work on that. She headed down the stairs, through the tunnel, and up another set of stairs that opened into a small clearing with a clear, cold pond in it.

Wandering around, she found dry land and went exploring. Soon enough, she found the ancient toadem ground, and suddenly found herself beset by four swamp-beasts like the mutant wizard she had exterminated. Swinging mightily with her sword, dazed by the swamp fumes they were emitting, she soon found that even with a sword-arm as strong as hers, there were still those who were her equal. It grew dark....

And grew light again, as the gods cast another reverse time spell. Quickly she retraced her steps, wondering all along how she might handle four of the swamp creatures. She decided to use the hit and run approach, running up to one of the creatures, striking it, and running back to a safe distance to heal up. Hopefully, she could take them on one at a time and complete her mission.

Ultimately she succeeded, and as the last of the swamp-beasts disintegrated, she heard cheers from the toads in the bushes. Checking the Toadem area, she discovered an old chest with a small amount of treasure. Pocketing it, she went to examine the Toadem, admiring the craftsmanship. As she caressed the smoothly polished wood, a tingle ran through her. Then another, as the bad feeling about Kerielle returned.

Running back to Shinwiki (who rambled on about Ukabu again), she collected a magical staff and a hefty bag of gold -- not bad for a day's work, after all. Piloting the raft like a crazed woman, she headed back to the windmill to find Kerielle dead, gone to join Algamesh in the afterworld. All that was left was the Amulet that had confirmed Algamesh's death, and hastened Kerielle's. Silently she collected it, and swore to use it to defeat the evil forces that could snuff a life so full of promise....

Heading somberly back to Valeia, Missy stopped in at the warrior guild, where the guildmaster almost thanked her. He offered to train her in a few more areas, apparently as thanks for completing the task. Then he asked her to head back to the crypt to pick up a sword lost by another warrior. Thinking of the gold she'd receive (not to mention what other training she might be up for), she agreed. And as she stepped outside the gates of Valeia, she realized the sun had left and gone far into the night. Saying a silent memorial for Kerielle, she sat down to rest until the morrow....

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER FOUR

As the sun crested on a new morning, Missy Hissy stretched her arms and legs, and collected her gear to head back to the crypt at Bearsault one more time. "Toads and Skeletons," she muttered. "What I wouldn't give for some serious competition..."

Climbing down into the crypt, she searched the tombs she had uncovered previously, and discovered that a sword remained in one of them. "How'd I miss that before?" she wondered. "Better get my eyes checked out in Ishad N'ha. I'm missing too many things, and missing things gets you kilt."

Returning the sword to the warrior guildmaster, she was pleasantly surprised with another guild promotion. Alas, no new training opportunities with this one, but she'd get by... if she didn't strangle that wizard's guildmaster first! Was he ever repetitive and obnoxious -- she'd take care of the Teporn guy as soon as she could.

Heading back up the river towards the toad village, she spied a cave on the northern edge of the small lake just before the village. After tying up her raft (and fileting yet another school of piranha), she headed into the caves and soon discovered the fabled Oracles of Ishad N'ha.

Fabled is right. They looked about two hundred years old, and the one who talked sounded like his (or her?) vocal chords hadn't been tuned in a century. Eventually, the old bat talked about destiny, and sent Missy through a hole in the wall that had been hidden in the shadows. Or so she thought...

Following the caves on out, she spied a dark trail through the forest, and suddenly was beset by a swarm of locusts! Cursing in the dim light, she drew her sword and returned the favor, slaying the foul priest who had really messed up her morning stroll. Looking at him, she realized he matched the description of the guy the wizard wanted her to off, so she ran back to Valeia to check.

It was indeed the right foul priest (not like there wasn't a surplus of them), and the guildmaster expressed his gratitude. Of course, he then asked her to complete another task, retrieving an orb from Herespia, but Missy had a pretty good idea where that orb was. Accepting his task and promise of future payment, Missy headed up-river to Ishad N'ha and the serpent temple.

Before heading to the temple, Missy stopped at Ishad N'ha to see if there was anything of use. She picked up a few more cure poison potions, and checked into a couple of new guilds. Fortunately, everyone had work that needed to be done, so money wasn't going to be a problem for a while. Two request for work at the serpent temple, and two at Shurugeon Ruins. She'd hold off on the Ruins for a while -- she still needed that orb. Stopping at the Bushi dojo, she found that her father's merchant skills were ever in demand, and that there was a hot market for Takekatsu arrows. Not her cup of tea, but if someone wanted 'em, she'd be happy to sell them. Her first order was for a hundred thousand arrows...

Approaching the temple, she found a crazed priest standing outside (were there any normal ones?). He babbled about Kerah and a mission, and gave her a strange-looking key. He said it opened a secret door in the temple, so she pocketed it on the off-chance it might be useful.

She swung around to the back door of the temple, more based on a hunch from the gods than anything else. Sneaking in, she saw a foul beast through a grate -- a snake-bodied woman, it must have been that naga. Not seeing an easy way to get to the naga (or for the naga to get to her), she began exploring and soon found herself face-to-face with the high wizard of the temple himself, a wizard named Crude, or Kruge, or something like that. He offered to let her join the temple, and since she was sitting pretty happy on money (thanks to those takekatsu arrows), she agreed. The fact that several other priests were walking by had nothing to do with her decision... honest....

She wandered around, trying to figure out how she would get the golden coins from the priests, when she finally decided to just ask them if they'd sell some. Sure enough, just about every priest was happy to sell a golden coin to her. Only problem was the Dowry priests, who seemed to have a strategically short-term memory when it came to remembering who had made donations recently. Missy kept paying the extortion until one dowry priest got too frustrated. Seems he didn't like collecting his money with a whole lot of "regular" priests around, and he flipped his lid, wanting Missy to head down to the Sacrifice. Missy decided that wasn't in her plans, and out came the swords.

Moments later, all was peacefully quiet in that chamber... but now all the priests were after her. So much for buying coins peacefully... she now had to slash her way to the front door, where she ran back to Ishad N'ha and gave the coins to the rogue guildmaster. He decided he wanted her to go on a book hunt next... no telling what strange things these rogues had to do.

She ran back to the temple, collecting several figurines and a snake statue as she went through the initial gates. Then, realizing the darkness of the hour, she crept into one of the rooms in the serpent's hold and locked herself in, waiting for morning time and the chance to test her blade yet again.


--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER FIVE

Waking up in the early hours, Missy Hissy prepared to return to the Serpent Temple. While the priests were now all mad at her, she still had H'Thark to find, along with slaying this Naga that the temple wanted out of the way.

She entered back into the temple, feeling like a veteran Paladin now. There was little the guilds could teach her about the holy life, either in the might or magic realms. Still, she had been quested... and she did like the idea of a little gold for her troubles.

Looking around, she realized that the temple was a maze as much as anything. She found secret doors, buttons that opened other doors, and in the peaks of a room, a doorway that led to the belfry of the serpent temple. Stacking several crates on top of each other and putting some barrels on those, she was able to climb up her rickety ladder until she could grasp the ledge of the opening, and scrambled in.

She came across two cousins of the milking spiders she'd seen elsewhere in the temple, great big belfry spiders that didn't take kindly to their world being intruded upon. Dispatching them, she was also beset upon by some priests -- how they got up there, she didn't know. Had they used her makeshift ladder, she certainly would have heard them. Exploring more, she found several chests with treasure that made the climb up worthwhile.

Heading back down, it seemed that the top of her ladder was much farther away than she remembered -- and in fact, the floor looked a lot farther away as well! Easing out of the window area, she lowered herself onto the barrel on top of the pile. Unfortunately, she'd had to use a broken barrel for the top rung, and it finished breaking under the weight of her and her newfound treasure. With a painful crash, she broke the rest of the crates as she fell hard to the ground.

Amazingly, the noise didn't attract any more priests. Must be time for vespers, she thought. Stealing back into the temple proper, she stumbled across the Inquisitor, all green and eely. He didn't care much for her, it seemed, and once she asked about the prisoner, he decided he wanted to take her to see him -- in chains! With sword and dagger she cured him of that notion, and found a strange skeleton key in one of his pockets.

As she wandered around, the torturers began to attack her as well. While the priests and dowry priests had been unhappy with her for not paying the bribes -- I mean, temple dues, the torturers hadn't seemed to care. Apparently, now that the Inquisitor was out of the way, they were all vying to become the next inquisitor, and were counting on killing her to boost their position in the search. Pity they didn't realize that she planned to leave their corpses to be the next inquisitors...

She found a prisoner, and quickly identified him as H'Thark. He was skeptical of who she was until he saw his lockpicks. By the time he got to be agreeable to talk to, she'd had half a mind to use the hot iron poker on his thieving backside. He told her about the ritual the serpent priests used to summon the naga, and then balked when she asked him about the Hidden Circle's reward to her for freeing him. Irritated, she locked him back in the jail cell as she left. "If he's that good, he'll get himself out," she thought. "Besides, he's got his lockpicks now."

Running through the temple, she found the ingredients for the summoning ritual -- the wand, incense, and some freshly-made spider nectar. "He's lucky it wasn't H'Thark Juice," she muttered as she began to perform the summoning rite.

"Let's see... wand, nectar, incense... incense... ince-- where's the incense? I know I bought the bloody stuff!"

Suddenly, she remembered -- she'd bought it at the serpent head, but she hadn't put it into her pack. It was still sitting on the counter, so to speak. Running full tilt, she headed back to the snake head. Sure enough, the incense cones were right where she had left them.

Summoning the spirit proved to be easy, although the fireballs shooting from the giant serpent statues eyes did unnerve her for a minute. She responded to the questions the spirit asked, and the snake's mouth opened wide. With her blood tingling in her veins, she approached and went in.

She found herself standing in a small room, with just a small lever in the middle. Whispering the ancient incantation her mother had taught her, the ritual "save early, save often" that had saved many an intrepid thief, she flipped the lever... and flipped onto her back, when the floor gave away! Tumbling, sliding, and falling, she landed with a thump in a small room with several vipers and a slithering sound nearby.

Dispatching the vipers, she inched into the next room, and saw a beautiful woman, fair of face and skin. As she approached to ask her about the location of the naga, the woman turned toward Missy, tongue flicking in and out. Eyes with vertical pupils stared deep into Missy's soul, and too late, she remembered that nagas were half-snake, half-woman -- and she'd found this one! Scrambling on loose stones, she tried to get back to the first room.

"Right... no, left... no, in the back..." Missy scrambled in her pack, looking for the elixir that Kerielle had offered her. "If this is going to do something, now would be a real good time," she thought.

Pulling the stopper out of the engraven vial, she threw it into the hideous beast's gaping maw as blast after blast of poisonous fumes spewed toward her. Her aim was true, and the giant naga was soon sleeping peacefully.

She toyed with eliminating the serpent girl then and there, but decided to investigate the rest of the temple first. Besides, she'd managed to get two vials of elixir from Kerielle before her untimely death... a though which brought a brief tear to her eye.

She ran through the temple, coming across a maze of elevators and several locked rooms. Leaving a trail of dead temple monkeys and serpent priests to mark her tracks, she eventually found the serpent master, who let her in to see Elyssia.

Elyssia was hideous. While she looked as if she might be fair, her face was covered with a disgustingly horrendous mask that seemed etched onto her visage. Elyssia offered a strange brew, which Missy took; a fiery burning coursed through her veins, and then Elyssia laughed and spoke of sacrifice.

Determined not to follow the sacrifice path any more, Missy swung her sword, hoping to catch Elyssia unaware of her intent. Unfortunately, her first blow was not strong enough, and Elyssia summoned help. Six different priests of the temple responded to Elyssia's call, all intent on eliminating this intruder in their midst...

Swinging sword mightily, and drinking greedily from the magical healing potions she had acquired, Missy slowly slew Elyssia and the other priests. It was a long battle, and she was nearly finished herself when it was over. Taking the mask from Elyssia, she headed out of the temple.

Or so she'd hoped. As she went out, she stumbled across Xydusa again. This time, Missy was tired, hungry, and in no mood to argue. Sword drawn, she ran down the narrow hallway and began slicing at Xydusa as quickly as she could. Blood ran down the hall in two rivers, one Ratling red and one serpent green, making a sickly dark oil slick in the flickering torchlight. Soon one scaly eye was puffed shut, and Misst slid her sword in betwixt the naga's scales, piercing her black heart. Pulling her blade out, Missy noticed the many nicks and cuts her blade had suffered in the battle. She tried her own meager repair skills, but the damage was too deep.

She left the temple and headed back to the gypsies, Valeia, and Ishad N'ha, to fulfill the various quests she'd been asked to perform.

Once in Ishad N'ha, Missy checked her sword at the armory for repair, and checked herself in at the inn for a good night's sleep and a warm bath. Some comforts shouldn't be done without...

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER SIX:

While resting in the hot-spring baths in Ishad N'ha (or Ishad N'ha-ha-ha, as travellers from the Wyvern's Glen were wont to call it), Missy Hissy came to realize that while she was certainly adept in the arts of the Paladin, her heart was not in it. Killing things in the name of one's god only made sense to her if the god actually spoke to you; killing them because someone else claimed god spoke to them just didn't seem right. And while she didn't dispute others' conversations with their gods, she didn't like the feeling of being obligated to support them.

Towelling off and slipping into her gear, she headed to the armory to pick up her sword, and to return the dagger she'd borrowed in its place. Never made sense to be without a weapon, dad always said. She struck up a conversation with the guildmaster about her current frustrations.

"Would that the temple appreciated the need for a strong sword," she said, admiring the repair work done on her longsword. "Then this might be put to better use."

"Problems with the high-and-mighties," asked the Guildmaster. "'Tis true -- the only swords they trust are the ones they control themselves."

"Aye," replied Missy. "Some days I don't know as I trust their direction much any more. And the justification for whatever needs doin' is that the gods will it so. Less gods and more action, I'm thinking."

The Guildmaster looked her up and down. "You've been picking up well on your training, as I've seen it. Perhaps it may be time for you to consider the way of the ranger -- the mighty warriors of the woods. The only one you answer to is Mother Gaea, and there's little chance of misunderstanding her wishes."

Missy looked at him. "What's involved?"

"Find the mightiest of earthly creatures," he said, "and then find the bridge from yesterday to the tomorrow, the seed of the future."

"Find a dragon?" asked Missy. "And then what? Bring it back like a circus puppy?"

"Not a dragon, for a dragon is a mystical beast, not an earthly one. Find a raptor and convince it to part with one of its eggs, one of the offspring that will bring it into the future. Then will you know the perils and dangers that the woodlands face, and then will you be able to protect it."

"This, I can do," said Missy. And she left, outward into the lands north of Ishad N'ha in a quest for the egg of a raptor.

Walking through the woods, she was beset upon by worgurs, but apparently of a different breed than those she had been seeing. Apparently, some worgurs had been cross-bred in the area north of Ishad N'ha in some bizarre experiment, and these had escaped.

She stumbled across a small cottage and a fellow sister, Erzebette, who knew nothing of raptors but talked of a great dragon, a small gnome, and a bronze beast. Amazing what happens when one spends too much time with the berries and wood lice. Still, she promised to deliver a letter to the gnome, should she happen to find him. Thanking Erzebette for the warnings about the supposed dragon, she headed out and north, away from where the dragon was supposedly flying.

She soon discovered a burnt-out cottage, home to a flock of bats. As the bats left, she heard a nasty voice -- one from far back in her past. "Oh, isn't that special - a weary traveler seeking refuge. We'll find some places to rest your valuables...*cackle* "

She recognized Scanthril, although she doubted he knew her. She had been a mere lass when her father testified about Scanthril's misdeeds at the Ratttown stockyards. The elders of Ratttown had held back from actually executing Scanthril, but they had barred him from town on pain of execution. Missy's father had been the star witness... and three weeks later, he was found dead behind the Ratttown Rathskellar, a black assassin's dagger slipped neatly between his ribs. He never spoke, and Scanthril was never seen again.

"You're not with the Hidden Circle, are you?" she asked. "Gorthius -"

"Hidden Circle? Not hardly, heh heh. You're in the clutches of the Black Hand," said Scanthril, "and we've got a little proposition for you. Empty your gold, and taste your freedom."

Missy Hissy carefully took out one of the gold stashes she now kept in her gear, one with a mere few hundred gold in it. "'Tis not much," she said, "but 'tis all I have, save my quick eyes and keen blade."

"Hmmm..." said Scanthril, eyeing the meager pickings. "Almost not enough to get a knife dirty... perhaps we can use those eyes and blade of yours. Hearken to the stout mines to find one of our missing bandmates, and I'll reward you enough that it's worth stealing back."

"All right," said Missy, her eyes watching the other ratts who had begun to materialize from the trees. "I'll find him. And then we can talk about rewards."

She headed down the path toward the Stout Mines when a flash of green went past her in the brush. Turning, she saw nothing, but remembered the challenge to find a raptor and convince it to part with its egg. Suddenly, her mind flashed back to an area she had briefly explored near the Toad Village, where large tracks and broken branches the size of her arms had abounded. She remembered thinking at that time that she didn't want to meet something that large, and now wondered if that might indeed have been a raptor. Settling her cloak on her shoulders, she headed back toward Ishad N'Ha to look at the clearing one more time. For some reason, she didn't really want to go looking for the stout mines right away.


--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER SEVEN:

Missy Hissy rested on top of the broken stone wall, waiting patiently for dawn to come. The blocks that made up the wall were ice cold, long-removed from the warming effects of the sun; fortunately, an old skull made a relatively comfortable seat.

She tossed a pebble over the side, watched it disappear quickly into darkness, and after a long time, heard the faint *ploop* as it hit the water below.

"How did I get into this mess?" she muttered, softly so as not to draw attention.

It had seemed so easy. After leaving Scanthril, she jumped back to ask him about a job she heard one of the other rats mention. He offered her the opportunity to fulfill an assassin's contract. She accepted, although she had another contract on her mind. She ran back to the clearing where she'd seen the signs of a huge beast, and found a raptor laden with egg. Killing it, she'd brought the egg (and another one she'd seen) back to the armory, where the guildmaster promoted her into the studies of the ranger. She'd run into a nuimber of beasties fairly quickly that caused her to go back and train repeatedly, until she was finally a fairly skilled and polished ranger.

Then, disaster had struck. She'd headed out to the western part of the lands outside Ishad N'ha when she ran across a band of ratlings. These weren't members of any group like the Black Hand or Hidden Circle, just a batch of independents. Rather than face them immediately, she had decided that with night coming on, she wanted to have her back to a wall or a thick stand of trees. Running, she made her way to the Shurugeon Castle wall, where she was beset upon by the ratlings and some fish with lots of sharp teeth and a hungry attitude.

As she was disposing of the fish, she spied a green shape shambling into the clearing. Peering out, she detected a strange beast, more plant than animal, standing nearly two meters high with a large pod-shaped head. As she watched, the beast opened its head and breathed some greenish mist towards her. She watched as the scoundrels, regardless of their skills, began to hack and cough in the sick greenish fog. As the fog rolled toward her, she panicked and tried to run, but the world froze....

... and stayed frozen. No one could do anything. She prayed to the gods for a reverse time spell, but nothing was happening. Finally she felt the unholy squeal of the alter time spell, the one that rebuilt the universe, and faded to black....

... only to return, back at the gates of Ishad N'ha. Wanting to avoid the plant creatures, she stopped in and asked quickly about them at the guild. Mantraps, they were called, fierce vicious beasties that had been the death of more than one group of adventurers. The only thing known to bring them down was the steel of a good blade. Stocking up on magical scrolls, she headed back out to the Gael Serran.

She tried her blade when the mantrap reappeared, but then there was another one... and between them, they easily overpowered her. The sky shimmered from another reverse time spell, and another, and another... her head was growing dizzy, her stomach getting upset from all the pulling and shifting of time. She even tried running away, forgetting the castle entirely and going elsewhere; this time, she stumbled on their nest, and the sky shimmered again.

Finally, she decided that the walls of the castle presented the best opportunity for a strong defense, and hopefully a good offense as well. Running around the castle, she spied a small hole, and then another. She found an underwater passageway that led her to a section of the castle that was protected from the wilds of the Gael.

Wandering in, she found several undead spirits and quickly slew them, saying a brief prayer to guide them to the afterworld. She found an entrance into the castle keep, and soon discovered several of the items she was after, including a powerful wizard who help slay yet another undead spirit. The wizard asked to meet her outside, and after a few minutes of treasure collecting, she went out to meet him.

He was lying, mortally wounded, in a field near the castle. With his dying breath, he gave her a mummified paw and told her of a ritual to cleanse the castle of the demon that lived there. Shortly he passed, and after muttering the ancient ritual, she climbed on the broken wall that surrounded the castle.

And here she was, waiting for dawn to arrive so she could see exactly what, in the brush and trees that surrounded the moat, was waiting for her. Frustrated, she threw another pebble into the water.

As the sun slowly rose, she could see the pack of rattling thieves searching for her trail. She lobbed poison bombs at them, and they quickly succumbed. She then saw a mantrap, and lobbed a poison bomb at it. No effect. She searched through her pack for offensive spells, and tried each one. No effect. No impact. Nothing. The things were immune to everything she had to offer.

She noticed that the mantraps had separated, one wandering away toward the side of the castle. Perhaps it was to track down the noise that the dying rats had made, or perhaps the glint of swords in the water attracted it. Or perhaps it was simply hungry, and looking for food... in any case, it was by itself.

Perhaps she could take on one at a time. At this point, with the two mantraps blocking her way to Ishad N'ha, she had plenty of time to think about it.

She hurled a knife, then two at the mantrap, but it was too far away. She looked through her pack, and spied a reddish vial. Pulling the stopper, she realized it was a fire bomb, one of the few things she hadn't tried. Putting the stopper back in loosely, she hurled it at the mantrap.

Happily, the mantrap began to groan and writhe in the burning flames. Apparently, flame was a problem for mantraps, as it was for any creature not from the elemental plain of fire. She watched as the magical fire ate away at its leafy fronds, charring them; and then it burned out.

Scrounging through her pack, she had no more. But there it was, alone, injured, and woozy. Taking her courage in her hands, she leapt from the tall stone wall, jumping feet-first into the moat. She slipped, twisting her ankle slightly, and climbed out, hoping to catch the mantrap before it saw her.

She hacked with sword as fast as she could, stopping only to quaff an extra-healing potion. After a few short minutes, the crispy mass of leaves lay dead at her feet... and she immediately ran back to the safety of the keep.

Walking around the wall again, she spied the other mantrap. She noticed that it moved fairly slowly, and thought she could actually outrun it. Perhaps she could pick up a couple more firebombs in Ishad N'ha -- then she'd be able to handle the mantrap without a problem.

Jumping off the wall into the moat once again, she ran past the surprised mantrap and hurried through the Gael Serran, outrunning Worgurs and Swampflies alike. She made it back to Ishad N'ha, trained, sold, ...and discovered that no one else carried fire bombs! Apparently, there'd been a problem when some of the local youngsters had opened a case of them, and the smoldering house where she'd met Scanthril was the result. Frustrated, she decided to trust in the blade of her sword, and set out to find the remaining mantrap.

After a short while, she did... twice over! There was yet another one, and as she gasped for breath, the sky shimmered and she found herself back on the stone wall. She'd forgotten the magic ritual once again! Ah, the frustration...

She headed back to Ishad N'ha again, selling her excess goods, and immediately upon leaving the gate, recited the magic incantation: "Save early, save often." She decided to run back to the castle, in the hopes of getting the two mantraps separated again, when she discovered they had separated themselves! She ran into one in the woods north of Ishad N'ha and west of the castle, and quickly dispatched it with her sword.

Gulping down a great healing potion, she ran around again, looking for the last mantrap. She found the samurai Torin, to whom she gave the dragon arrow; he then let her buy it back. Poor guy - so much time in the woods had affected his brain. She also found Jathil, the wanderer the temple had asked her to help. He told her about the Gezurite way, something that was apparently important to him; he also showed her some mind tricks that helped defend her from magical spells. Now *that*, she could use...

She finally found the last mantrap and quickly dispatched it. Interestingly, Jathil's tricks seemed to work; she took much less damage than previously, only needing a couple of healing potions to feel better.

She ran back to Ishad N'ha, liberating another horse along the way and training some more. Next stop: Shurugeon Castle, to finish what she'd started.


--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER EIGHT:

As Missy Hissy girded up her sword and looked out into the Gael Serran, it was black as pitch, and the heavens poured down thundering rain, turning creeks into swollen streams that threatened to break their borders.

Gazing around, she could tell that the gods were not pleased these days, and that, as her father used to say, the mundane was the source of the profane. Some of the rumbling in the heavens sounded like words one might hear on the back docks of Brimloch Roon, where the weary sailors would head to relax after a harrowing voyage at sea, and where they might relax too much, waking in the morning with a throbbing head, a nice view of the docks from the local gaol, and no memory of how either happened.

Pulling her cloak close to her, she muttered a prayer of penitence, swearing fealty to whatever god would clear the perpetual night and let her resume adventuring. Soon, perhaps in several days, she'd be able to return to Shurugeon Castle. For now, in the midst of the torrential downpour, even the slight moat was deep as a lake, and the meager drawbridge was a tiny stick in the briny water, floating in the currents.

And the stars looked down...

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER NINE:

Finally, the rain broke and Missy Hissy was able to leave the caves near Ishad N'ha and resume adventuring.

"What a mess," she grumbled as her chain boots squished in the mud, pushing the mud up between her toes. It felt neat at first, but once the mud dried, it would turn into scratchy dirt, custom-fitted sandpaper. She'd be having blisters on her feet and toes that would last for days.

She returned to Shurugeon Castle, spirits raised that she had removed all the mantraps from the area. She entered into the castle, searching for the other evil elements that the wizard had told her about. At least she now had a use for the hideous mask she'd picked up in the Serpent Temple. Although she'd tried it on, she didn't like the looks of it, and hadn't had the urge to sell it yet.

She entered the castle and began wandering around. In a smithy (or was it a torture chamber?), she found a skeleton chained to the wall inside a cell. He was out of the reach of her sword, and any spell she tried to cast simply hit the walls of the cell and bounced off. Frustrated, she backed away, climbed on an opened treasure chest, and cast a venom bite spell at the skeleton. Miraculously, the spell zipped between the thick metal bars of the cell and nailed the skeleton; it fell against a pull chain, and opened the doors to the cell with an ancient squeal.

Missy ducked inside the cell after shoving a barrel into the cell doorway, in case it tried to close on her. Inside the cell was a chest with one of the evil elements.

She left the cell and ducked 'round and came across a large dais surrounded by columns. On the larger columns were a series of chain pulls, and as she stepped forward to investigate, a host of imps and undead soldiers materialized from the gloom. She began to battle, sucking down the occasional healing potion, and eventually vanquished her foes. She set about decoding the chains, and soon found another chest with another evil element. Her total was three, and it felt close.

She went south, looking for more, when she stumbled across a tightly closed door. Faint voices were on the other side, but too muffled to be heard clearly. As she approached, the door suddenly swung open and she realized she'd discovered some kind of a ghostly soiree, with skeletons and ghosts alike. Slinging her blade with vigor, she managed to work her way through the room, dispatching one after another until she stood, face to ectoplasm, with the ghost of Gliebott that the guildmaster had been asking about. Well, at least she could finally answer his questions… Spiritual sword was no match for physical sword, and in short order, the long-suffering ghost lay at her feet, dissolving into the next world.

She felt her stomach grumble, for it had been a long time since she’d had anything to eat, and there were still two more elements to find. She stumbled into a water-filled tunnel under the castle, apparently a long-forgotten sewage tunnel. Aside from a few gems that littered the murky waters, she found little until she stumbled across an imp with an attitude.

After a brief battle, she wiped her sword and placed it back into her sheath. “Time for you to zippy-dippy-die,” she muttered, pulling a chain behind where the imp had been. Turning around, she realized she was so hungry that her head was starting to ache. “Not exactly the best way to walk around the world,” she thought, heading back down the stairs.

Climbing a short flight of stairs she found a lonely vampiress who started playing all friendly-like. “Great,” Missy said. “Not only am I hungry, and not only is my head throbbing, but now I’ve got to get hit on by every last beastie in the sewers. Drawing her sword, she began attacking the vampiress, who also mentioned something about another element. As the she-fiend began her journey to everlasting death, Missy picked up the element, partly wondering what the vampiress had found so intriguing, and partly not wanting to know.

The fifth element was found shortly thereafter, in a chamber that apparently had been D’Soto’s. Fitting, that Ardibren had stored the last element with the one he had betrayed.

Running back to the wizard’s study, she placed all the elements in their holders around the mask, her head pulsating with each one. As the last one went in, there was a blinding flash, and when her sight returned, the elements looked dimmer and grayer than they had before, while the mask now glimmered with an eerie dark light.

Running back to the entrance to the castle, she opened one last door and soon found the demon. Now tired, hungry, achy, and irritated, she practically threw the mask on him and began swinging. As the demon moaned, her blade sang through the air, sending off sparks wherever it hit against his otherworldly bones. He tried casting spells against her, but Jathil’s teachings continued to prove beneficial. If she ever got to the Lyceum, she’d find out more about those Gezurites.

A few moments more, and Haleabus was no more, trapped back in the hell he had come from. A grateful D’Soto thanked her for freeing him, told her about the shroud that would welcome her to the next watcher, and went to find Ardibren, to take his faithful companion to the spirit world with him forever.

Grabbing all she could carry, Missy ran out of the castle and headed back to Ishad N’ha for a warm meal.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

After a hot meal at the tavern in Ishad N’ha-ha-ha, Missy stopped in at the warrior guild. “I finally found that old warrior you’ve been looking for,” she said.

“Ah, you did, did ye? Well, where is he then?” asked the guildmaster.

“He’s in the next world. I came across his ghost in Shurugeon Castle, and sent him onward.”

“Ya done good,” replied the guildmaster. “’Tis sad news, but his family has wanted to know. Say, now that ye’ve taken care of that, would ye be interested in running another errand for me?”

“Perhaps,” said Missy. “What is it?”

“Ask the Stouts to aid our clan. We can use their help in some of our dealings with the Wizards Guild. Not that we’d ever be defeated by a bunch of long-eared magic freaks, but sometimes they can make it… challenging… Plus, I’ll make it worth yer while.”

“All right, I can do that,” said Missy. “Any new things you can teach me before I go? It’s been a while, you know.”

The guildmaster sized her up. “Yeah, here’s something ye can use. It’s another way of holding yer blade, that ye can do more harm in a fight. It doesn’t do much until ye build up yer arm strength, but I can see ye’ve been working hard with yer blade.”

After an hour’s practice, the guildmaster bade her farewell. “Ya know, I can tell yer getting itchy feet. Ye’ve got that desire for knowledge that marks a true warrior, and I know yer getting’ bored. If ye can just hold on for a little bit longer, I’ve got a special training class that ye’ll be interested in. Just hold off on switching to any new studies until ye get back from the Stout Mines, and I’m sure ye’ll be delighted.”

Missy eyed him. He’d been warming up of late, once he began to realize that she wasn’t like so many of those who came for training, little weasels who trained on mommy and daddy’s gold, pretending they were warriors. He had to deal with them in order to keep the guild open, for their gold paid for supplies as well as anyone else’s did. Better, even; they never really put their weapons to the test, and consequently never knew whether they were good or not.

Besides, she still had to head over to the mines for Scanthril’s little job, and once she finished that, she’d be doing a little job on Scanthril. Payback was a… well, she’d rather not insult a fine worgur like that.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “And be ready; I should be back in a couple of days at most.”

She headed out from Ishad N’ha, heading west toward where the Stout Mines were supposed to be. Along the way, she came across packs of bandits and sneaks, dispatching all without prejudice and spreading her blade throughout the day and evening, practicing the new technique the guildmaster had shown her. Very satisfying; she was able to put the little devils into another world all the more quickly. After each battle, she checked her sword, as she’d been trained, and fixed any minor nicks or cuts in it. “Better to do it little by little than to die lots by lots,” she murmured to herself.

A rustling in the brush gave notice to the arrival of yet another band of rogues – were they truly everywhere? Were they really this annoying? As she dispatched them, she heard more rustling in the bushes down the path. “Come out, you sniveling rats. Either come here and die, or leave and never bother me again.”

The rustling grew louder, but no one came out. Irritated, Missy stalked to the edge of the brush to give them what for when suddenly a blast of poisonous gas hit her in the face!

Gagging, she stepped back, and squinting through her burning eyes, saw something that was not the perfectly sized head of a ratling sneak. Instead, it was large, and green, and round… it was another mantrap! Knowing she had scant moments to act before the overgrown salad did, and knowing that there would likely be another in the offing, she quickly ran in and hacked with her sword, trying to bloody the creature’s mouth, or whatever it was that spit out the poisonous gas.

As the mantrap slowly returned to the earth, Missy began looking around for another one. They always seemed to travel in pairs or more, and she was sure there would be another. She found none, though, and continued nervously, expecting to see another green bulbous head at any time.

She coughed, and realized that the mantrap must have poisoned her somehow. She searched her pack for a cure poison potion, but found none. She turned around to begin the long trip back to Ishad N’ha, when she suddenly remembered why she had sold all the poison-curing potions; she could cast the spell and cure herself now! Casting it, she waited for the pleasant glow of healing to warm her body, and then began heaving again. “Nuts,” she thought. “Oh, waitaminnit – they don’t poison you, they sicken you!” Checking her spell books again, she cast a cure spell on herself, and immediately felt better.

Felt better, that is, until, as she started galloping toward the mines, she burst into a clearing right underneath a huge dragon! The beast was searching for dinner, apparently, and she’d run right under it, a scant dart’s throw away. While Erzebette had told her about the dragon, and while she had seen it flying in the distance, nothing had prepared her for how huge it actually was. From tongue to tail, it easily stretched as long as the archery range back in Ishad N’ha, and then some. Should it decide to land, she was sure it would crush her as easily as she had crushed the roaches in the castle.

In a moment, she was past, back into more bushes. She wasn’t sure if the dragon had seen her, but she was sure it must have heard her, with her chain armor clanking as the horse bounded up and down. No matter; she continued riding, as hard and fast as she could, until she could see the path to the Stout mines in front of her.

As she slowed to a trot, she felt the tingle of magic and heard a noise behind her. Turning, she saw a giant light-colored beast, half-lion, half-eagle, that was apparently upset about her being there. As she approached it with sword drawn, she suddenly felt another tingle of magic. Only this time, Jathil’s tricks did not work, and she felt herself growing cold and dark…

… until the sky shimmered again, and the gods reversed time. She found herself back on the path, just moments from where the flying beast had trapped her. This time, she approached slowly, and was able to trap the beast in the low branches along the trail. Unable to see her clearly, the thing tried to attack with talon and fang, but no use; even hardened bone was no match for enchanted steel.

She finally approached the Stout mines, and giving the writ to the shaft operator, began her decent to find the king of the dwarves. She handed off the clan invitation to one of his lackeys, and then sat down to hear what he had to offer.

He told her of horrid nightmares that he’d had, nightmares that seemed to feature her going to meet the gods in ways she’d rather not think about. He offered to make her a suit of armor to try to protect her, to save her from her fate, and she decided to take him up on it. Perhaps she’d be able to do something about changing fate; in the meantime, she wanted to get back to Ishad N’ha and the training that was waiting for her.

Taking her leave of the dwarven king, she promised to come back and find the dragon ore he wanted. She gathered her sword and spells, and returned to the town.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

Taking leave of the Stout King, Missy returned to Ishad N'ha. While she still had work to do at the mines, particularly to get that nice set of dragon armor, she was anxious for whatever training was awaiting her. She stopped in at the warrior guild. "Greetz. The stouts said they'd consider the invitation, but they made no promises."

"Aye, 'tis only reasonable. Still, you're the first to get them to at least consider it. That's gotta be worth something. Perhaps we'll be able to call on 'em soon."

"We can only hope," she replied. "Now, about that training you promised...?"

"Yes, you're finally ready for one of the best-kept secrets throughout the land. The making of arrows from things you find along the way... branches from trees, stones in dungeons... all can be used to make arrows to slay your foes. Just grab an arrow to study, and in no time, you can make another just like it. Sometimes, that's the only source of income an older warrior may have. That, and training the misbegotten offspring of drunken elven tailors and haircutters. Arr... some days they make me want to send the whole lot of 'em to the bottom of Erathsmedor's belly, just to see if he could even stomach 'em."

"I met Erathsmedor earlier," volunteered Missy. "'Twas quite... interesting..."

"Ya did? And you're still here? Without protection of the gods, you ought to be comin' back on a barbecue spit!"

"Well, we didn't exactly meet officially," she said. "I sort of ran under him as I burst from the trees. And I high-tailed it before he saw me."

"Har!" laughed the guildmaster. "Well, that's certainly one way to do it! And no one who knows anything would fault you. Dragons is tough meat, no matter how you look at it."

"Aye," said Missy, "but now I've got to run. Freyedies promised me some dragon armor if I can find some dragon ore, so I've got to go looking through the mines for it."

"Good hunting," replied the guildmaster. "Say, you might consider studying the samurai's craft at the bushi dojo. They've got some tricks you can learn."

Missy stopped at the dojo and grinned when she realized the guildmaster only wanted the baton she'd found earlier. She handed it to him, and began her studies of the master swordswomed. Not that she was a slouch herself...

Wandering through the Gael Serran, she picked up experience quickly and trained frequently at the guilds. Soon, she headed back to the Stout Mines, where Freyedies repeated his offer to make her a suit of armor. She headed to the mine shaft area, to where she'd fixed the trolley car on her previous visit, jumped on board, and started to ride.

As she flew down, she noticed some observation windows where the tracks forked. Making a mental note to check them out later, she hopped off the trolley car and began searching.

With a pickaxe she'd picked up, she searched through ore piles, finding the occasional gem of little or no value. Then she spied a piece of silvery metal in one of the lodes and pocketed it, certain that it might be the dragon ore. She continued searching, and came across a fire-breathing dog. That dragon armor was sounding better by the minute, for sure... She did notice that she could withstand the heat. Perhaps she was getting used to it, or perhaps Jathil's mind tricks continued to bear fruit. Or perhaps the fire charms she'd invoked at the wizard's guild were actually working. You never knew with wizards...

She came acros a second piece of silvery ore, guarded by another dog, a mother to the fire-breathing beast she'd slain earlier. "More's the pity," she muttered. "I'd like to have one of those at home for when the company stays too long...".

She headed back up to Freyedies to give him the ore. Excited, he began bashing it with Kraokendon immediately, forgetting she was there. "Come back later," he said. "It takes a while."

She headed back to the trolleys, musing over the devotion the dwarves showed to their one-eyed king. Was it really something they felt, or were they biding their time, afraid to confront him and the dreaded hammer? One thing's for certain -- none of them wanted to talk about it.

She ran behind the trolley as she sent it on its way, hoping to inspect the observation area for clues. She saw a switch that seemed to control the tracks; curious, she reached carefully through the barred windows with her sword to touch the switch. A sudden *CLANK* made her drop her precious sword, and it fell, point first, into the rock floor. "Another repair job," she muttered. "Taking care of a good weapon like a rookie." Grumbling, she used the string from her bow to fashion a loop and retrieve her itinerant sword.

Putting her gear back, she headed up to the trolley area to recall the trolley. Climbing on, she went down to another cave area, this one hiding a small body of water. Apparently, the stouts occasionally misread the rock and opened shafts into lakes. Aside from a giant sea-crab, there was little of interest, so she ran back and flipped the points on the tracks again.

This time, she ran back to change the points on the second fork in the tracks, and on returning, she found herself face-to-face with the rat Scanthril wanted killed. Not giving anything away, she listened to him rant about working for years with nothing to show for it. She looked at the lift he'd created and rode it up, looking for easy booty.

She found herself in a small room with a door that wouldn't open. Frustrated, she pulled out her sword, only to see a small reflection on the wall. Closer examination revealed a lever that opened the stubborn door. Curious, she entered... and found six chests, all heavy.

She debated the merits of stealing from the dwarf who was trying to save her life, but realized that she didn't know if the armor would truly work or not, and the only way to find out was to put it to the test. Saying a silent prayer, she betrayed her benefactor and earned the trust of Rathskalion.

As she descended the list, she realized that she really needed to take care of Scanthril. She asked Rathskalion about the Hidden Circle and the Black Hand, and eventually challenged him to combat. She betrayed the trust she had so recently gained, and wondered if it was really worth it as she slung her sword across and back, inflicting damage on his strong arms. He tried to defend with a pickaxe; alas, it just didn't work...

He died, but not before cursing her and her lineage. Some things would never change... that's what had gotten her into this mess to begin with.

She headed back up to meet Freyedies, collect her dragon armor and head back to town. She toyed with the idea of letting Scanthril know all his quests were completed, but she really wanted to make him pay. No quick and easy death for him... a slow painful one, like she'd watched him inflict on her father as she hid beneath the counter. Her father's teachings had paid off, and soon Scanthril was going to get his due...

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER TWELVE:

As Missy Hissy headed out from the depths of the mines, she reflected on her father, gone these three years now. While he hadn't been the king's equal, he had done his best to do right by her, and to teach her the things he'd learned, and the things he'd wished he'd learned. 'Twas her father who placed the first sword in her hand, and 'twas he who showed her how to wield it.

Alas, he'd never finished his lessons; that rat Scanthril had shown up, claiming her father owed him a pendant he'd acquired. Missy knew that pendant had been her mother's, and her grandmother's before her; she was sure Scanthril had simply seized on the pendant as a plausible reason for shakedown. He'd threatened her father, and promised to come back that night to collect. She'd urged her father to run, but he would have none of it. "Run once," he said, "and you run for life. They'll never stop, no matter who they are." Instead, he'd prepared her with the family's few possessions and himself with a strong dagger he'd purchased in the orcish lands.

She had been heading into the kitchen when Scanthril and his thugs burst into the house. She'd barely had time to hide in a cupboard before a pack of rats came in, throwing things around and herding her father like a cow headed for the slaughter.

"So where is it?" sneered Scanthril as he pushed her father into a chair in the kitchen. "My client wants that pendant, or your life. And your brat's life, too."

She could see her father glaring at Scanthril through the chinks in the wooden cupboard. "Gone and buried with my wife," he mustered, "gone these many years. And the child's gone, too -- far away from the likes of you."

"Gone, is she? Well, we'll just have to hunt her down too, then. I'll spit her on my sword like a worgur for the barbecue."

Her father could take no more. He stamped his foot on the floor, hitting a loose floorboard that caused a bunch of powder to fly up into the air in the kitchen.

"My eyes!" screamed one of the thugs. "I can't see!"

As the rats swirled around, her father crouched away from the chair and slid the orcish dagger into his hand. As he prepared to backstab Scanthril, the wily rat whirled, his eyes shut tight, and threw five shuriken in a high-low spread pattern. Two of them hit her father, and as he sank to the floor, he caught Missy's eyes through the crack in the cabinet. "Go," he mouthed to her as his knees grew weak. Tears in her eyes, Missy drank the one special potion her father had acquired many years ago, the potion that gave invisibility. Slipping out of the cupboard, she slid behind the rats, hidden in the shadows.

Scanthril looked down at her father through watery eyes, recovering from the powder's blinding effect. "So you want to play smart, eh? Well, you've got to be better than that to outsmart me! Now," he said, flicking aside her father's dagger and tearing one of the shuriken out of his body, "about that pendant..."

On her way out to the stable was when Missy Hissy made her first kill, one of Scanthril's rogues. Half an hour later, when she was safely out of sight and mind, she stopped to throw up at the thought of the rat she had killed, and to weep at the passing of her father. "I swear, Scanthril, by Kerah and all that's holy, I will see you pay. And I swear by Cet and all that's unholy that it will not be quick..."

As Missy rode up the last elevator to where Freyedies was, she realized that though she enjoyed the life of the samurai, there was something missing that left a hole in her heart. Perhaps the warrior guildmaster might have a thought for her of a study or action she could take...

She collected the armor from Freyedies, giving him as well the second piece of dragon ore she'd collected. He turned and began hammering again, not noticing the shield in her pack that stuck out, the one she'd retrieved from his vault.

She made her leave and headed back to Ishad N'ha-ha-ha. She almost stopped to see Scanthril along the way, but decided against it. She sold the items she'd found (gold was so much lighter to carry), and stopped in at each guild for suggestions on new techniques.

The warrior guildmaster suggested she try the life of a ninja; when the dojo master gave her the quest, she almost grinned again. She'd opened the gates to Shurugeon Castle already, and when she mentioned it, she was promoted to ninja on the spot. She spent several hours working on the skills of the ninja, learning something in the dojo and then running into the woods just outside Ishad N'ha to practice. In short order, she'd made a high level in the arts of darkness, earning the admiration of the dojo master. She also earned his ire, for he kept insisting she find out about Grunaxe. She promised yet again to find him, and headed out from Ishad N'ha to see about taking care of the bronze beast that Barrenhawk was so worried about, and perhaps to take care of Scanthril, too...

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Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

Leaving Ishad N'ha, Missy Hissy headed up to Dragon Spire. She'd seen the firebeast before, and she wanted to try the Dwarven King's armor. Sure enough, it enabled her to withstand the beast's heat, and she quickly disabled it. She poked around a bit in the Spire, discovering some giant funguses that looked like brain corals and spewed poisons like the giant salads; a couple of firestorms that she had learned as a samurai soon safely took care of them.

She still wanted to take care of Scanthril before moving on, though, so she headed back. She went north to where Grunaxe was last seen; at least she'd be able to placate the dojo master for a bit. She came across a lake, and forded into it with her horse. Occasional small schools of piranha attracted her attention, but it was quiet out... almost too quiet.

As she rode around a clearing on the other side of the lake, the ground in front of her seemed to rise and disappear. Stopping, she stepped side to side to watch what was going on. The perspective didn't seem quite right, so she moved ahead slowly. As she reached the top of a small hill, the ground dropped away to nothing. Looking down, she saw an opening below her, and rode her horse around the side.

Looking up, she muttered to herself. "Good thing I wasn't riding fast," she said. "Otherwise, I'd be nursing a broken neck, and perhaps a broken horse." Sliding off the horse, she unslung her sword and began to head down the opening to see what was below.

As she closed the door, a sudden bad feeling came over her. As she whirled around to try to get back out, a raspy, almost stupid-sounding voice called out from behind her. "Trapped you, my pretty. Youse nots gets away now," the voice cackled.

Turning again, she saw a huge misshapen creature, green of skin and rough of complexion. She assumed it was female; it was wearing some kind of chest covering, but she couldn't be sure.

"What's going on?" asked Missy. Without answering, the creature cackled and pulled a lever behind her. Missy felt the floor move and jumped, and then jumped again when she realized the floor was going away. She dropped into a cage, where another misshapen creature began to cackle at her as well.

Suddenly, she remembered where she'd heard of these creatures before. She'd overheard two travelers talking about Boogres, great huge creatures that made up in brawn what they lacked in brains. This one seemed to be different from the other one; it seemed like she had more authority. As Missy approached the Boogre, she suddenly realized that the female was casting a curse on her! Backpedaling furiously, Missy tried to cast any offensive spell she had, attempting to break the Boogre's spell, but to no avail. Not even the powerful firestorm she'd learned did anything, and with the Boogre's last words ringing in her ears, "... to Boogres!", Missy fell to the floor as the powerful curse began its work on her.

Groaning and thrashing, she felt her armor becoming tight and quickly loosened it. After a few minutes, the agony stopped and the Boogre laughed from the other side of the cage. "Checks on youse tomorrow," cackled the Boogre as she left the cage area. "Spell be permanent then."

Spell? Permanent? Missy grabbed one of the potion bottles in her pack and looked into its reflective surface. "NOOOOOOOO!!!" she screamed. Her face, while not unattractive for a rattkin, was now the hideous mottled green of a Boogre. Looking down, she saw that her lithe athletic body was now the dumpy muscled mass that defined the Boogres she'd seen thus far. She'd been caught; she was now a Boogre, and there was no known cure.

But maybe not! The Boogre had said she'd have to wait until tomorrow, until the spell was permanent. She still had a chance, if she could just get out of this cage. Another Boogre, one who'd been assigned to guard the cell, came over by the locked door.

In a few minutes, Missy sweet-talked him into opening the door. Sliding through, Missy began exploring. Soon, she came across more of the vicious mantraps she'd seen earlier, except she didn't think their huge bodies would fit in the narrow caves. Inspecting the cooked corpses (would the wonders of firestorm ever cease?), she decided they were a smaller variation of the mantrap, perhaps a swamp rose or jungle lily. Smaller they were, but just as deadly.

Still exploring, soon came across Grunaxe's ghost. At least she now knew the reason for his disappearance, and the dojo master would leave her be for a bit... The ghost told her where to find his body and equipment, and after dispatching the giant crayfish that had killed Grunaxe, she found that most of his gear was rotted and only his ring was still in good shape.

More exploration found a series of teleports, each of which wrenched her gut and exacted a price in blood. Groaning as she made her way through the last teleport, she came across a Boogre, the one who had dropped her into the cage to begin with. Before she could exact her revenge, the Boogre, Prisk'iela, began lamenting about her departed Grunaxe. Having already appraised the ring she'd found and found it wanting, Missy offered the ring to Prisk'iela, who was so excited she turned around and opened the door leading to Skeser Da's chambers. Skeser D'a, Missy had learned, was the Boogre Queen who had cursed Missy to begin with, apparently along with all the other Boogres in the cave.

Missy slid into the chambers to the sound of a low, deep, thunderous rumbling. As she stopped, she identified the source of the rumbling – Skeser Da herself, sleeping and snoring like she was in a contest. Catching a glimpse of her own Boogre-ized face, Missy felt her blood begin to boil, and sent a firestorm down on top of the sleeping witch. Perhaps it wasn’t playing fair, but the witch had started it…

Unfortunately, the firestorm wasn’t quite enough, so Missy stepped forward with her magical katana and finished the job. Expectantly, she looked into a reflective shield, but saw no change. The witch’s curse persisted even after her death. Muttering and debating whether she should raise Skeser Da so she could be killed again, Missy picked up the ornate eye that Malgrim had told her about, and headed back to where Prisk’iela was.

Rather than face the teleport traps again, Missy decided to take the other path out of the chamber and soon found herself face-to-leaf with more of the junior salads. Backpedaling furiously, she called up firestorm after firestorm, cursing the Boogre curse that in turn caused her spells to fail. Eventually the salads were burnt, and she crept forward, finding a small room with holes in the wall, holes that looked the right size for the wooden rods she had found earlier.

After sticking rods in for a long time, Missy decided that she either had too few rods, or she needed a lot more brains to get it to work. Looking up at the two passageways above the stick room, she realized that if she jumped just right, she might be able to climb up. That is, as long as nothing else was trying to catch her…

Gathering her breath, she stood below one of the passages and jumped as high as she could. She nearly reached the top, and tried again and again. After a few tries, she managed to climb the rest of the way and headed out of the passage to the world above.

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Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

She exited into a small clearing and looked around. It was dark, and there was little she could see. The occasional glowfly lifted the darkness slightly, but it was truly the hour of the night. Wishing she could remember the words to the torchlight spell she’d seen, Missy Hissy began to explore this new area.

Not far ahead, she spotted some other Boogres. These didn’t behave like the Tinkers and Plunders she’d seen in the caves; they ran around a bit more purposefully, and soon they fixed their purpose on her. With no choice but to defend herself, she dispatched the poor cursed beings. Perhaps, in another day, she’d have been able to save them and restore them to their normal families; tonight, she simply ended their existence.

Stumbling around in the dark brought some mountain spiders, a few rattling rogues and sneaks, and the occasional worgur pack. As she slew them one after another, she spied something moving in the distance. Something large.

As she moved forward, she realized she was wrong. It wasn’t large – it was huge! With the words of the guildmaster ringing in her ears… you’ll recognize ‘im ‘cause he’s a giant… an’ he’s got two heads… which is why we calls ‘im a two-‘eaded giant… she began to move forward.

He was a giant. And he did have two heads. Well, time to collect the debts for the warrior guild… and yet, she didn’t really want to use firestorm, and wipe out the giant in mere moments. Somehow, it didn’t seem right to use magic to settle a warrior’s score. With one hand on the handle of her katana, Missy strode up to the giant. “Ho, friend, what’s the news?”

Doshi-Gin looked at her with both heads. “You not from here,” the giant said, more a statement than a question. “Youse goes bye-byes.”

“Are you Doshi-Gin?” asked Missy. Better to have a straight answer than no answer at all.

“Me Doshi-Gin. Youse Warrior?”

“Aye, I can call myself a warrior.”

“If youse is warrior, youse is yum-yums. Come here, yum-yums. Me hungry.” And so saying, the two-headed warrior began swinging a pair of huge battle-axes in tandem, creating a windmill of slashing steel.

Missy stepped back and returned the favor, inserting her katana into the fray and slicing away at his arms, occasionally getting a shot at his torso. Because of the windmilling axes, she couldn’t get a good strong hit it like she wanted, couldn’t deliver a major blow to cripple his ability to attack or defend. In fact, it seemed like every time she went in for an attack, she came back out with as much pain as she’d inflicted.

She began to question the wisdom of taking on this giant warrior. True, it seemed like he wasn’t the sharpest arrow in the quiver, but the skills he showed, even as addle-brained as he seemed to be, seemed to be equal or superior to hers. Shaking, Missy stepped back a few meters to grab a quick healing potion, and then a few more when she realized she needed a great healing potion instead.

Missy thought of all the clan members who’d been slain by the giant, some warriors, but some only pages and squires. She thought of all who had been slain since the guildmaster asked her to look into it, easily another 30 or 40 clan members. She thought of how handily Doshi-Gin was besting her in spite of all her training. She realized that if anyone could slay the giant, it should be her, and with a burst of renewed energy, she leapt back into the fray.

Had there been a bard available, he would have sung songs late into the evening. Axes flying, katana darting, jabs, thrusts, parries, blocks, slices, nicks – the battle lasted for hours. Others soon joined – swamp flies and worgurs – but Missy kept her focus on the giant. The others would only annoy her, and might take her away from an opportunity to finish the fight.

Missy’s only advantage was the hundred potions of healing she’d acquired in her travels, and by the end, they no longer measured in the hundreds. At long last, a final thrust from her katana split the battle axes and pierced Doshi-Gin’s heart, sending him on to the clan hall in the heavens.

Dispatching the other creatures who’d threatened her, she looked down at the decomposing corpse, her mouth drawing a tight, thin line across her face. “Rest better,” she said, gazing down. “No more you’ll bother, and no more you’ll slay.”

Grabbing the twin axes, she went back to the Boogre Cave and climbed up the other wall, to the other exit from the hole room. In a chest near the end, she found the Band of Boars that Bratsol had been looking for, and she put it into her pack. She thought for a moment about heading back into the Boogre Cave to finish off whatever was left, and perhaps to search for a clue to ending this Boogrism, but she was tired and weary, and really wanted to let the clan know that the giant was no more. Stepping out, she cast the spells to take her back to town to rest for the next day.

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Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

As Missy Hissy stepped out from the Boogre Cave, she thought about the long walk back to Ishad N'ha-ha-ha and groaned. "As if I weren't sore enough," she muttered, "now I have to walk half-a-day's journey to town." As she started to head down the trail, she remembered the latest spells of the night she had learned. Perhaps it was time to see if they worked.... and without further ado, she created a portal near the Boogre Cave entrance. She moved several paces off and tried teleporting to it... it worked, and on the first try, yet. "I love it when magic works. And when it doesn't, I love my sword, spear, and staff."

Trying another new spell, Missy called home and saw the stars in the sky around her turn blurry, then fade into the mystic daylight of Ishad N'ha.

She wasn't sure what surprised people more -- the sight of a Boogre walking through the town, or the sight of a Boogre simply materializing in the middle of the town square. She could see their unspoken thoughts written in their faces.... mothers suddenly remembering their children had homework, youngsters suddenly remembering that they had someone important to see somewhere... anywhere... else. As she strode down the village streets, her heart ached. She hadn't felt this alone and outcast since she'd left town after her father had been murdered by Scanthril.

With tears stinging the corners of her eyes, she knew that she couldn't go just anywhere. She strode into the armory, throwing open the door and blocking most of the wizard-generated daylight from the town square.

"Whatcha want?" asked the guildmaster as he struggled to identify the new customer who had just come in. "Armor, weapons, we got the best..."

"Enough of the prattle," said Missy, hardening her heart to protect it. "It's me, Missy Hissy, though I may not look like it."

The guildmaster looked her up and down. "So ya sez, but I canna be sure. How can ya prove it to me?"

Missy leaned down with her enchanted katana in her green muscular paw. "You've got your choice. Either recognize the equipment I've bought from you and had you identify, or watch me practice my swordstrokes on your scrawny carcass with the sword techniques that you taught me."

Feeling a brief shiver run down her spine, Missy stopped and let him go. "Ah, never mind. Been Boogreized for less than a day, and I'm already pickin' up their manners. Look, ask me anything about what you and I have done, and I'll answer correctly, or else ya can spit my for the barbecue, like the orcs would have done with my remains had Erathsmedor caught me."

The guildmaster stepped back and straightened his tunic. "Aye, 'tis you all right. Any other would have ended poorly, for certain. How came ya to be this way?"

Missy related the story of the Boogre Queen and how her death hadn't ended the curse. She also told him of the passing of the two-headed giant, and showed the giant's twin axes.

"Here," said Missy. "It's late, and I'm tired from the battle. Here's the stuff I picked up from this round. Cash it in, and give me half the gold. Put the rest in the guild coffers for the families of those who lost members to the giant. It's the least I can do."

"Ye've done more than any other," said the guildmaster. "None other came back alive, and none other dispatched the giant. Little ye may consider it, but great do we consider it here. 'While it may mean little, I'll sponsor ye for another promotion within the guild. Ye have truly done good for us, and ye've taken care of all the work that's been needin' doing."

Collecting her gold and repairing her gear, Missy then stopped in at the Bushi Dojo. After once again explaining that she was still herself, she passed on the news of Grunaxe's fate, and was rewarded with a guild promotion and the possibility of new training. That, and the request to take out an assassin who had the dojo's head in his sights. "A woman's work is never done," she grumbled as she headed out to the other guilds.

After visiting each one, she left with the urge to wipe the dirt of their shops from her boots and never visit them again. "What a pity," she thought. "Can't see below the surface to who's inside this great green grossness of a body, and assume that the worst that can be is going to happen. The simplest of protection spells could take care of that, and yet..."

She left the town and tried out the teleport spell again. Miraculously it worked, and she finished cleaning out the rest of the Boogre Caves. Toward the end, guarded by another set of walking salads, she found a strange idol. When she touched it, she felt a strange shiver as her body contracted, her muscles and sinews screaming in agony. After a few moments, the pain stopped, and she realized that the Boogre Queen's curse was now ended. "So that's why she was protecting that eye," she thought. "It led the way to the cure for her curse, and she couldn't have her loyal subjects finding that."

Calling home one more time, Missy walked into the inn for a large room with a large tub for bathing. She planned to see Scanthril tomorrow, and she wanted to be in her best mood.

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Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

The sun peeked over the forest west of Ishad N’ha as Missy Hissy set out to settle old scores. As she walked through the woods, it was eerily silent – neither bird nor bug was talking this morning, as if they sensed the impending maelstrom that would overtake the Gael Serran.

As she passed Erzebette’s house, her thoughts drifted to the last house she had shared with her father. True, it wasn’t much, and the landlord had probably rented it to a dozen people since then, but it was home, and happy, at least for a while. Her father’s eyes burned holes in her memories, reminding her yet again that he loved her enough to give everything he had for her.

The memory of her father’s eyes locking on hers, bidding her to leave, knowing that he was giving his life for hers, brought warm, stinging tears to her eyes. She’d never known the depth of love that a father has for his daughter, and the moment she had realized it, it was gone... forever.

His final lesson as a father still weighed heavy on her heart, and she wished that she had realized earlier how much he had tried to help her, how much he cared that she faced the world well-equipped in its ways. She remembered how heavy-handed he used to seem, back before Scanthril brought darkness to their door.

As she rounded the bend she thought of as the eastern hairpin, so named for the sharply hooked shape of the pin that high-society females used to keep their hair in place, she thought of the legacy her father left behind. A daughter who, truth be told, wasn’t making the biggest waves in the ocean. A frayed necklace, bejeweled with exotic stones or plain glass, depending on how she felt about it. And a few lessons in life, ones that did not get the attention they deserved when they were given.

What would she leave behind? If she were to die today, there would be little less than a skeletal body, to be eaten by four-legged scavengers and stripped clean by two-legged ones. Perhaps the warrior guildmaster might wonder where she’d gone off to, and the children might scare their children with stories of the Boogre that came to town, but in a matter of weeks, if not days, she’d be but a distant memory.

As she made the turn north to head to the burned-out house where Scanthril was hiding, determination gripped her, and she set her mind straight. She’d see Scanthril, take what he would freely give her, and then… she’d take what was left. And if she died, she’d make sure that she died second, if only to chase Scanthril to the gates of Hell where she could punish him for eternity.

Sunlight reflected high off one of the broken windows in the burnt shell of a house that marked Scanthril’s camp. She headed ‘round the back, elbowing his thugs out of the way as she went forward to face the wily rat. “I’m back,” she announced in a low voice.

“I see,” Scanthril squeaked. The sound irritated her like steel running across a piece of slate. “You killed him, didn’t you? I could tell by the look in your eyes.”

If he could really read my eyes, thought Missy, he’d be scrambling to get out of the way. “Now, about that payment...”

“Here,” continued Scanthril. “Everyone’s always wanting payment. You’ve got some skill, to be able to get Rathskalion. He was a clever old rat, and never an easy mark. You’ll find this useful, I think,” and he handed her a black-bladed dagger with a worn leather handle.

At least, it looked worn. As she held it, she felt a warmth coming from the leather. Not a dangerous feeling, but one of comfort, as if the blade were welcoming her. Still, she pressed. “That’s it? I risk life, limb, and games of fetch-the-stick with fire-breathing dogs, and you give me a lousy dagger?”

“Greedy, aren’t we? I like that in a woman.” Scanthril leered at her and continued. “It’s a special dagger, as you’ll see in short order. And if ya want something more, here’s a few gold. Now scram, or you’ll find out just what that kind of dagger can do.” He turned around, suddenly finding something interesting in a tree on the edge of the forest.

Missy stepped closer. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” she asked.

Scanthril looked back at her, sizing her up and trying to place her. “No, can’t say as I do. Obviously you’re no one I’ve taken care of before, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“But not for lack of trying,” hissed Missy. “You took care of my father three years ago, all for a worthless pendant.”

Scanthril looked at her again, recognition starting to light the recesses of his eyes. “Wa-a-ait... You’re Bungleau’s whelp? You’ve changed in three years, that’s for sure. But the contract on you is still open, once I return with your ears.”

Missy was confused. “Contract on me? For a piece-of-glass pendant?”

Scanthril snickered. “You think this is about a pendant? Then you probably think your old man was simply a merchant who traveled the world, making a profit where one could be found.”

He leaned closer. “Get this straight. Your old man was as dirty as the alley we dumped his rotting carcass in.”

Missy fought back tears that stung her eyes. She knew she’d need all her senses in the next few minutes. “You lie,” she uttered through clenched teeth.

Scanthril laughed. “Ha! Me lie? Well I have, but not about this. Your old man was no merchant. He was a spy, and he used his travels as a merchant as a cover for buying and selling information. Who do you think caused the Trollish civil war? Your daddy, who sold one faction the dreams of the other, and sold the second the fears of the first, that’s who. Remember the dwarven iron shortages? Of course, not, because there weren’t any! But your dear, departed daddy convinced enough people that there were, and the price of weapons went through the roof. And guess who happened to have an ample supply, for the right price? That’s right, old Bungleau. Well, I was asked to see that he bungled for the last time, and I did it. You were part of the contract, only to ensure that his bloodline was wiped from the face of the earth.”

By this time, Missy and Scanthril were nose-to-nose, rat-to-rat. She could sense his muscles tensing as he began to move a dagger he had slid from his tunic as he walked toward her. “Boys,” said Scanthril, not taking an eye off Missy Hissy, “we’ve got another little job that needs doing.”

Missy’s mind raced. In close quarters, she felt she could take Scanthril on, but what of all the other rogues around? Suddenly, Missy knew she was breathing her last air. She’d not survive this one, blessed armor or no. And she knew that she had to take Scanthril with her. If he survived… no. Not even his ghost would be safe. But what could she do?

A strike with a dagger? Even the new one she’d just gotten? By the time it hit, the rest of the pack would be on her, and she wasn’t sure she could kill him in one blow, not even from here. Besides, she didn’t know exactly what kind of dagger it was, and for all she knew, it might be a cheap copper shop special.

Her sword? She could trust it, but could she kill him before the others set on her? Not likely, and while the others were attacking, he might slip away. And now that he knew her, she knew she’d never get close to him again.

Suddenly the image of cooked salads came to mind. Fire! If it could toast those overgrown appetizers, it should be able to take care of Scanthril! With one hand, she started casting a spell, and with her other, reached to grab on to Scanthril’s cloak. “I don’t believe a word of what you say, and the only one who can prove it is dead by your hand. So I say let’s go to Hell and ask him!”

Balls of molten fire began falling from the heavens, striking Missy, Scanthril, and his rogues. Missy felt the pain of her flesh burning, but ignored it, staring into Scanthril’s eyes, seeing the flicker of fear and the sly resolve that followed it, smelling his armor burning, and then his hairy limbs. She held both his arms now, making sure he couldn’t grab a dagger and kill her quickly.

“You’re crazy,” said Scanthril, his armor smoldering under the falling fireballs as he tried to pull away. Missy was far stronger than she’d appeared. The sly resolve left, replaced in his eyes by the terror of knowledge, the knowledge of his imminent death.

“Perhaps,” said Missy. “But I’m crazy enough to make sure you die with me.”

Fireball after fireball fell until there was little left behind the burnt house, little beyond burnt leaves, singed grass, and smoldering bodies.

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Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

A tiny swallow flew among the trees in the Gael Serran, flitting in and out between the trees in an aerial slalom, dodging butterflies and glowflies with equal skill. It flew into a clearing where smoke still rose from the bodies littered on the ground. Circling, the swallow finally landed on one of bodies, which suddenly moved, sending the swallow aloft again.

Missy Hissy groaned. Everything hurt, from her head to her toes and everywhere in between. She sat up slowly and looked around, then relaxed. There was Scanthril’s body charred and burnt like an overdone roast. He hadn’t survived. That she did was a miracle; again, she thought of Jathil and his mind tricks, and of the magical enchantments afforded by the wizard’s guild. Between the two, life somehow remained in her body, but not by much.

Using her sword blade to help herself stand, she began to search the bodies of Scanthril and his cohorts. Potions, weapons, and a strange ring were her treasure. Taking the ring in her hand, she selected a wooden staff to support her as she walked back to the town of Ishad N’ha. She could have used magic, but she wanted time to think about what had just happened… to think about what the end of Scanthril meant. His death had been one of her goals for years now, and with him gone… she began wondering about the contract Scanthril had mentioned. Someone wanted her father dead, and her as well.

But who? If all Scanthril’s tales were to be trusted, her father was apparently no angel. But to incur someone’s wrath to the level that they wipe out your bloodline? That was certainly not the result of an arbitraged business deal, or a secret sold to two sides of a war. No, someone must have been extremely angry, extremely hurt, to seek such a thing.

As the glowflies buzzed through the evening air, Missy examined the ring more carefully. It seemed to be made of black pearl, and it was carved into the shape of a merwoman with wings. She would have thought it was an angel, but something about the figure did not seem angelic. More anti-angelic – more evil than good, if she thought about it.

She slipped it into her pocket as she approached the gates of Ishad N’ha. Within moments, she’d be able to check in at the guildhouse to dump her loot, fix her goods, and get an idea of what to do next.

“There’s nothin’ like that I’ve seen before,” said the warrior guildmaster. “Flyin’ fish folk? If there’s ever anything like that, it’d be out in the Enchanted Sea, west of Brimloch Roon. There’s all sorts of craziness there, and that’s where ye’d find one of these creatures, if they exist.”

“Thanks for the suggestion,” replied Missy. “I’m sure I’ll be heading that way soon, as soon as I can find my way to it.”

Everywhere she went, it was the same story – no one had seen a ring like it before, and pointed her in various places – the Enchanted Sea, the Lost Sea, the Gypsies by Nymph Lake, Lake Ogre-Chobee… everyone knew a place it could be, but no one knew a place it was.

Until she got into the pawnshop. Bratsol bid her to quietly step into the private area of the pawnshop, whence he flipped the sign on the door to read “Closed”. He looked around again before speaking, making sure they were not overheard. “I sensed that you brought something new with you this time. Can ye show me?”

Missy showed him the dagger Scanthril had given her for her work. Bratsol let out a low whistle. “Yessss… It is one of them. That is an assassin’s dagger, passed from one member of the assassin’s guild to another worthy of membership. Are ye interested in joining?”

Missy thought of all the turmoil she’d been through in the past days… of the lows of the townspeoples’ reactions to her as a Boogre to the feeling of incompleteness that Scanthril’s death left behind. She thought as well of how long it had been since she’d simply enjoyed life… and how cruelly life had treated her and those she’d known. Kerielle, beaten to death by a windmill… Algamesh, slain by a she-viper… Scabban, betrayed by his magical studies… There was little of the good in life that she could honestly appreciate now, and with Scanthril gone, perhaps a new focus would help.

“Sure, I’m interested. Now tell me, what do I need to do next?”

Bratsol smiled evilly. “Not a thing,” he sneered. “You’re in now, and you can’t get out. At least, not alive… Here. Let me show you a couple of tricks you can work on.”

Bratsol showed her some of the assassin’s standards, poison-dispensing daggers and backstabbing bladework. Promising to practice, she asked Bratsol about the ring.

“Ring? What ring?”

When she showed the ring to Bratsol, he peered at it, and then pulled back, his eyes open wide. “I’ve heard of these before, but I’ve never seen one,” he said. “They’re a sigil for the highest contracts in the assassin’s guild. A pair of rings are held by the contractor and the contractee. When the job is complete, they both turn white, and the contractee can collect his final payment. ‘Tis powerful magic makes that happen, and only the most important contracts are worth it.

“And the fact that it’s still black means that the contract’s still open, and the payee is still willing to pay. Keep it until you find its mate, and perhaps you can collect on the contract yourself.”

Scarce containing a shudder, Missy bid Bratsol good day and left Ishad N’ha to practice the new skills she had learned.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

As Missy Hissy left the rogues guild, Bratsol pulled her aside. “Now that yer a member of the guild, are ya interested in taking care of some guild business? There’s something in it for ya, if ya can do it.”

“Perhaps,” replied Missy. “What’s needed?”

“A rogue assassin needs to be put down,” said Bratsol. “Grue Morde is his name, and he has… displeased … the guild. Rogue assassins can’t be tolerated, and assassins who give freebies… ugh! There’s no business to be made in free work. Find this Grue Morde and take care of him. The guild will thank you for it…”

“I can do that,” said Missy. “Any idea where he might be?”

“He was last seen near Brimloch Roon, but that’s no guarantee of anything. Ya might even ask him about that ring – odds are he knows something of it, since he was the guild secretary for a bit. Made it a point to know about the contracts out there, in case he might fill one.” Bratsol grimaced. “And then he starts givin’ freebies… argh, it pains me to think of it.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Missy as she headed out the door.

The dark night of the Gael Serran was brighter than Missy’s mood as she left the safety of Ishad N’ha. Anger over the unseen person responsible for her father’s death boiled into her blood. Sure, she had taken care of the hand that killed her father, but the body that sent the hand… she still had to take care of that.

Grabbing her cloak, she headed toward the back entrance to the Dragon Spire. She still had some work to do there, and her attitude wasn’t getting any better waiting for it.

Heading back into the Spire, she found that life wasn’t getting any easier. A giant scorpion was one of the first beasties to try her mettle, and after a few well-placed sword strokes, the scorpion’s sting was no more. She found a strange piece of dragon crystal near the scorpion, and later, she found another piece after defeating a giant spider queen. She ran across Kol, the seemingly insane hermit she had met near the serpent temple; he babbled about the Mavin and fate, and disappeared into the shadows again.

“One of these days,” thought Missy, “I may have to put him out of my misery.”

She came across a crystal serpent in the depths of the spire, and retrieved its eye after slaying it and its friends. While retrieving the eye, she spied a dark opening in the bottom of the pool. Surfacing for a deeper breath, she dove down again and looked into the opening.

It opened to a small grotto with yet another Oracle, yet another otherworldly being to help guide her. She was starting to get tired of all these people who knew her destiny, but decided to pay attention one last time.

The guardian spoke to her of her mission, and offered her a ring. But not just any ring; one that could remove the boulders she had seen earlier in a passageway, the boulders that blocked her way to a chest with, hopefully, the last piece of dragon crystal.

Scampering back out, Missy grabbed a jewel-encrusted sword she had spied on the bottom of the pool and headed up to the surface. Upon closer inspection, it was a nightblade, a mystical weapon offering greater accuracy, better damage, and the occasional paralyzed opponent. Missy traded her old sword for the nightblade and spent a few minutes practicing. It felt good… what more could you ask for?

Still nursing a dark cloud of gloom, Missy continued her search through the Spire, removing the two boulders and uncovering the last dragon shard, and finding Hephaestus, Erzebette’s friend to whom she had delivered the letter.

Hephaestus told her much about the dragon and the other things he’d created. The little inventor was quite in demand, making unique items for the Boogre queen, the Stout king, and others. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset that Missy had been taking care of his customers.

Missy climbed to the top of the spire with Hephaestus’ strange elevator and found the door where the dragon pieces fit. On the other side, she saw the strange Kol talking to the dragon who had flown over her head some days ago. Interestingly, Kol, who was about as big as the dragon’s claw, was insulting the dragon, demanding it turn over the Mavin sword. After a moment or two, the great dragon simply rolled one leg over and squished the demented priest like a plump waterbug lazy under the hot sun.

As Missy approached, the dragon noticed her and began to roll another leg. Thinking quickly, Missy tried to recall the mystic word. “El Shaddai? El Segundo? Elseeyalater?” The dragon kept coming closer. “Elseramavin?”

“Ahh…” breathed the dragon, rising its giant head. “You speak the sacred word. You are the next champion… but wait! You must still provide the second piece of the puzzle before I can release the Mavin. Have you the Shroud?”

Missy produced the Shroud, which quickly disappeared into the dragon’s hoard.

“Good, good. Now, I offer you the Mavin Sword… but beware! It always comes back, but those who take it never do. They are consumed by its unholy fire.”

Missy stepped back from the great dragon and went through the door the dragon had just opened. On an onyx stand stood the Mavin sword, the item Gareth had sent her to look for. Curious… it didn’t look that impressive. As she hefted it, a brief tingling feeling passed through her arm and quickly dissipated. Well, perhaps it would be useful later.

She checked the two treasure chests near the sword and uncovered D’Soto’s chain, the magical armor of the last champion of the Gael Serran. While it was powerful, she decided that her armor was better. “Who knows – in a hundred years, someone may be pulling my plate out of this same box.”

As Missy left the dragon’s quarter’s, she found herself in the northern reaches of the forests between Ishad N’ha and Brimloch Roon. As the sun rose, burning brightly in the morning sky, Missy’s heart burned just as darkly. Thoughts of the mysterious person who had contracted her father’s death ran through her head, and she headed down the Spire trail towards Brimloch Roon, a foul mood sending stormclouds into the Gael Serran in front of her.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

Missy Hissy no longer thought much about whether killing was appropriate or not; it was simply something she did, much as she’d drink a Boogre brew placed in front of her at a bar. Birds flew, flowers bloomed, and she killed. Nice and simple. No shades of gray, no halfway points. You lived, it died. If it lived, then you died. Game over.

As Missy walked toward the town, she spied a lone figure walking through the dappled trees ahead. Putting a bit of fire in her step, she moved closer, and soon recognized the scaly traveler she had met near the gates of Valeia, so long ago and yet so recently.

“Hail, stranger,” she called as she emerged from some low-hanging willows. “Where be—yikes!”

Missy ducked as the traveler threw a spell her way. Venom bite, burning haze – it didn’t matter. The rule was all that applied – you live, or you die. She moved closer and pulled out the wizard’s blade she’d found in the chest near the Mavin sword. After some enchanting in Ishad N’ha, it was now a formidable weapon, and much faster to work with than her old nightblade.

Flicking the blade left and right, using the defensive tricks of the ninja and the swordwork of the samurai, she soon brought the traveler to his knees.

“Hold a moment,” begged the green-skinned snakeman. “Spare me, and I can make it worth your while.”

“Who are you, that you beg for life at the end of it?” asked Missy.

“I am but a simple traveler, a merchant who goes from town to town, buying low and selling high. Grue Mor—er, Mordecai is my name, and I’ve but recently come from Frosgard, where they talk of giants that live in floating castles in the sky,” said the quaking traveler. “Perhaps there’s something I can offer you that you dream of….”

Missy’s eyes hardened into narrow slits. “The only things I dream of you cannot provide, save perhaps one. This ring is tied to me somehow… can you tell me anything of it?” She showed him the black pearl flying merwoman ring.

His eyes grew quiet as he looked at the ring for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “I’ve seen this ring before, it and one other like it. They were part of a dark contract, one of the most diabolical bargains ever struck. The nature of the ring indicates the importance – black pearl is one of the rarest of gems, marking it a high-goldpiece contract. And the figure carved in it represents the contractor, the person offering to pay. There aren’t many flying merpeople, to be sure. The last ones seen were in the area of Collaseum, but that town is long gone, faded from sight centuries ago. Of recent sightings… I can think of none, except – no. Not even then could it be.”

Missy pocketed the ring. “Interesting, but not very useful. And a feeble attempt at lying, as well. No merchant would know the details of an assassin’s contract. Only an assassin would, and one would hope a smart assassin at that. You’re not. And the guild has sent me to put an end to your misdeeds. You know the circle – you live, or you die. And today, you die.”

With a quick dagger thrust, Missy pierced the heart of the scaly assassin, stepping back to watch his green life’s blood bubble into the soil of the Gael Serran. Soon, worms and roaches would be taking the nutrients from his body and passing them elsewhere in the circle of life. So it had always been, and so it would be.

Picking up a scroll that Grue Morde had dropped, she continued on towards Brimloch Roon. “You live, or you die,” she muttered to herself.

The noise of clanking armor came to her over the gentle breeze. Palming her wizard’s blade in her hand, she moved toward the sound. A group of rogues – no, more. True banditos, rogues who traveled the forests and waylaid unwary tourists. She marched through them toward the one who appeared to be their leader.

“Brahmar the Bandit King I am, and today, I’m in a good mood. Leave your gold and valuables, and I’ll leave you your life,” he said, flecks of spit and meat flying from his bearded mouth across the greenery.

“You’ll have none from me,” said Missy, “and less from others.” Taking a step back, she called on Jathil’s mind tricks and her own protections and launched a firestorm at the crowd of banditos. As the molten balls fell from the sky, they began to attack, throwing knives and shooting arrows. She calmly dodged their missiles and advanced forward, dispatching one and then another until she stood in front of Brahmar.

“Not such a good mood now, eh?” she asked. “You live, or you die.” With a final thrust, she left the bandit king to fertilize the forest.

No excitement. No thrill. No fear. Just death. Butterflies twirled in circles. Missy killed. Villagers brought forth a new generation of villagers. Missy killed. Politicians plotted. Missy killed. She didn’t think much about it any more, just did it. You live, or you die.

Ahead, she spied the gates of Brimloch Roon. Standing in front of the iron gates, erected to protect the citizenry, she smiled slightly. Their protection was largely symbolic; anyone with a bit of athleticism could simply climb over the gates. Moderately strong, and you could push them open, using a sword blade to separate the wooden boards. Nothing is as strong as its weakest point, and the use of wood to protect against fire beasts was suspect, at best.

Creating a portal, Missy decided to head back to Ishad N’ha one last time in order to finish up the last few tasks remaining. Summoning herself to the town, she stopped at the pawn shop to collect her payment for Grue Morde’s death. A pity, really. It was much less than she had anticipated. And to the town hall, to tell Barrenhawk of the end of the Bandit king. Gratefulness and an honorarium were her reward, and truth be told, she’d prefer there to be more “arium” and less “honor”.

She stopped in at the warriors guild for a last time. “Yer different now,” said the guildmaster. “Ye’ve moved to the point of oneness, a spot where this world matters less.”

She looked him over. Though he was a simple shopkeeper, and though he was a trained warrior, there was far more to him than appeared at first sight. “Aye,” she said. “There is little of this world that matters, and my role is clear.”

“Say no more,” said the guildmaster. “There are two kinds that reach this spot in life where you are – where life itself changes meaning. Those who survive it become the great ones of the world.”

“And of those who don’t?” asked Missy.

“They make fine corpses for a funeral,” replied the guildmaster grimly. “’Ere. Take this carta and head on your way to Brimloch Roon. It will give you an introduction to the warriors there, and they can help in your path.”

Missy accepted the rolled scroll and headed out the oaken door, her face tight and her emotions in check… barely.

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Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER TWENTY:

Upon arriving in Brimloch Roon, Missy Hissy tried to fit into the normal village crowd. Okay, so she tried not to stick out too much. A slender ratling warrior, armored as an assassin and armed as an avatar, she drew glances wherever she went. Some were the curious stares of children, wondering who this strange new person might be. Some were the bitter stares of townfolks, wondering what trouble she would bring to their town. Some were the envious stares of failures, wondering what she had that was so special, and wondering why no one else saw it in them.

She ignored the stares, except perhaps those of the children. She smiled at them every so often, sometimes a smile of pleasure, and sometimes a smile of wicked knowing. She enjoyed watching their parents sputter and spatter after she looked at their children, watched them try to make up excuses for going in the opposite direction even though they hadn’t purchased the bread they needed.

She avoided the stares of the adults, for to match their eyes was to sign their death warrants. Kill or be killed, but if you didn’t notice the cockroaches near you, you didn’t have to squash them.

Missy turned toward the temple, where Malakai welcomed her and asked her to search for a fountain of youth. Missy obliged, privately wondering what good youth would do after several centuries. Sadly, this temple offered no new studies for her; in her meager time in the Gael Serran, she’d surpassed all but the most gifted of teachers.

She then visited the smithy, where Strumbold welcomed her and reviewed the Carta she’d been given.

“Impressive,” he said. “Damosh gives you his highest recommendation… something he hasn’t done since the last dwarven civil war.”

He looked over at her. “Well, you may have figured out by now that he’s the senior guildmaster around here. There’s little he doesn’t know, and what he shares, I know. If ya be needin’ anythin’, I’ll do what I can.”

Missy grunted. “Appreciate it. How much can you give me for these weapons I picked up along the way?”

He tallied up her swords and armor. “Twelve hunnert gold,” he said with a grin.

Missy took him up on the exchange, and asked if he had any work that needed doing.

“Work? Yeah, I’ve got work. That bloody centaur Argothius left without paying for his helm. Bring me his payment, or bring me the helm. It’s a fine helm in any case, and I can recover my money on it.”

Missy agreed, and headed to the pawnshop. There, she once again found work as a delivery girl, taking an iron hook from Miruth to an apparently insane pirate. Well, she’d seen few pirates that would qualify as sane anyway, so she agreed to help.

Sensei Asami at the Bushi dojo asked for help in eliminating a fallen samurai golem, or something like that. Missy wasn’t sure; she figured she’d just kill what she needed to, and the dojo could sort it out later.

Missy then walked into the wizard’s guild, where the proprietor, one Sebastio, welcomed her warmly. She reviewed his wares, but saw little of interest, and soon learned there was nothing more he could teach her either. “Got any work you need done?”

The innocent question was no sooner out of her mouth than Sebastio began to answer. Instead of a simple yes or no, he began a tale of vampires and sacrifice from years gone by.

Missy noticed that the cockroaches on the floor scurried away at the mere sound of Sebastio’s voice. One kept trying to run under her tapping foot, as if it wanted to be squashed.

Sebastio continued talking of hardships and isolation, lo these many years.

A glowbug which had wandered into the shop bashed repeatedly against the windows in an attempt to escape, and finally committed suicide in one of the lit candles that filled the shop.

Sebastio droned on about a resurgence of vampires and badly written romance stories.

Missy felt her legs growing numb, and glancing out the window, realized that the sun, which had been stretching high in the sky when she came in, was now laying out for its nightly slumber. Her fingertips were raw from twiddling them to pass the time while Sebastio rambled. Her mouth was dry, and she could feel herself getting faint. As she sat down on the edge of a display case, careful not to knock over any potions, she suddenly heard Sebastio ask her a question. “Beg your pardon?” she replied.

“I said, will you take the job?” asked Sebastio.

“Sure, I’ll do that,” Missy replied. But before she could ask who she was supposed to take care of, Sebastio launched into another long diatribe about how dangerous the job was going to be. She saw a mouse pull a poison bomb back to its mousehole; moments later, she saw the greenish fog of the bomb sieving from the hole, and the entire mouse family stumbled out, one by one, with what seemed like great satisfied grins on their faces as they keeled over dead. Feeling the hunger growing in her stomach, Missy felt she understood; by the time she got out, it might be dinnertime – tomorrow night!

A while later, Sebastio finally finished his long monologue. Bidding him goodday – correction, goodeve, Missy hurried out into the town. “Why couldn’t he have just said ‘kill the vampiress’ and be done with it?” she growled. Stopping at the inn, she grabbed a meal of venison and tubers, something to keep her strength up.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:

Missy Hissy’s last stop in Brimloch Roon was at the shipyard, where she found a ship for sale and a job that needed doing. Paying her hard-earned gold for the ship, she promised to bring back any crab shells that she found. Perhaps they might be useful later.

As she left Brimloch Roon, she stared at the ship in front of her – her ship, freshly purchased. “Who would have thought I'd have a brand-new ship?” she asked herself as she walked around it, fingers caressing the polished wood.

“What’s this?” She stopped as her fingers found a spot that felt different, and on closer inspection, she could see that it had been patched and re-polished. “Looks like a sword nick,” she thought. Looking around, she spied more patches in the woodwork.

“Swords, arrows, even fire blasts,” she grumbled. “You’d think someone would take care of a boat properly, and keep the fires off of it.” She had half a mind to go back in to Brimloch Roon and confront Buckly about his “new” ship, but decided to talk to him when she got back.

Not trusting the seaworthiness of the ship, Missy slipped her wizard’s blade into its sheath, secured it, and dove beneath the waters of the Enchanted Sea.

What a pleasant surprise! The waters were quite salty, making them very buoyant and making it much easier for her to float and swim. As she glided through the crystal waves, she saw that the water itself seem to almost glow, making it easy to see in spite of the impending nightfall.

Swimming north along the coast, she soon came to a clearing. Walking ashore from the sea, she spied a group of centaurs. Approaching them afoot, as stealthily as could be while dripping seawater from her arms and armor, Missy asked one if there were a centaur named Argothius about.

“I be he,” said one centaur loudly, tramping up to approach her. Using his size to intimidate her, he glowered down. “And who be ye, looking for me?”

“Strumbold sent me,” she began.

“Strumbold?!?!? That no-good vagrant promised me a superior helm, and left me with this bit of tin and polish. Tell him I’ll pay him money when he gives me a decent helm. Better yet, I’ll write it on your corpse and send it back to ‘im myself!”

Grabbing a sword, Argothius began swinging at her while the other centaurs nocked arrows and let fly. Falling back on her ninja training, Missy dodged and weaved between the attacks as her wizard’s blade carved through the nighttime air and centaur body parts with equal ease. Moments later, the tiny glade grew quiet as the last of the centaurs fell and she began the task of collecting their goods, half-heartedly checking to see what was worth selling and what should be left for the next scavenger to come along. Strumbold’s helm was among the pieces, so she loaded that into her pack. The arrows and bows were of an inferior quality, so she left those behind.

Heading out, Missy soon left the small inlet where Brimloch Roon was located and headed out onto the open portion of the sea. A sense of movement stirred the waters behind her, and she saw a sea shark headed her way. Three of them, actually; she’d heard they rarely traveled alone, and the stories were apparently correct. Gritting her teeth and adjusting her body in the salty water, she prepared for her first serious underwater combat.

It was tricky, much harder than fighting on land. She could land a good blow, or perhaps two, on a shark, but then she’d be sinking below, and it would be out of reach. As she swam upward, she could get back in range, but it was a treacherous line she swam, trying to stay within range while trying to avoid the shark’s attacks. And the presence of the other sharks didn’t make it any easier!

Finally, she let herself fall into the depths as the sharks swam after her. As her feet settled on the silt-covered bottom of the sea, she finally had enough stability to attack and defend quickly. Her silver-plated blade flew in and out of the shadowy depths, leaving large cuts in the sharks and spilling their blood into the sea. If only she could hold her breath long enough, she’d be safe.

Soon, the last of the sharks lay dying on the ocean floor, and her ears detected a strange clicking sound. Looking around, she soon noticed a giant crab, much like the one she’d killed in the bottom of the Stout Mines, heading her way. The commotion and blood scent had brought it her way, and it was looking for dinner.

Missy had overheard in the tavern in Brimloch Roon that it was actually possible to pick the pocket of a crab and steal its shell, and since Buckly wanted shells, she figured she’d give it a try. Sheathing her blade, she tried once… twice… and then swam up to grab a fresh breath of air, for she’d been down for quite a while. The crab followed her, and on her fourth attempt, she was able to steal the shell right off its back. Grinning under the water, she pulled her blade back out and quickly put the crab to the bottom of the ocean, along with another crab that had come by and whose shell she also pickpocketed.

Her pack loaded, Missy decided to head back to Brimloch Roon to report her jobs complete, and to empty her pack and fill her purse. And to give Buckly a piece of her mind, too.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO:

“Three of the finest crab shells this side of Wyvern’s Glen,” Missy Hissy stated calmly as she eyed Buckly in the shipyard in Brimloch Roon.

“Aye, nice they are,” agreed Buckly. “And certainly some of the finest I’ve seen. Not even a nick or a scratch on ‘em! Well, here’s your gold.”

“Thanks,” said Missy, pocketing the small amount of gold. “And speaking of nicks and scratches…” she continued as her eyes narrowed into dark slits, the heat rising in her voice as it went lower.

Buckly looked up at her with a quick flash of recognition in his eyes. “Something wrong?” he asked with false bravado.

“You might say so,” said Missy as she took out a throwing knife, sighted on a rat near the door, and pegged its hindquarters to the wall by the door. “Ya see, you sold me a boat, brand new and ready to sail the Enchanted Sea.”

“And you got the finest ship available in all the Gael Serran,” said Buckly nervously. “There is none finer.”

Missy took out another throwing knife, this time clipping the wing off a glowfly that had wandered in. The knife stuck in the wall, two handswidths above the still wiggling rat. “The point is,” she said, “you sold me a new ship. Not a rebuilt ship, not a refurbished ship, not the finest ship available. You sold me a new ship. And you didn’t deliver.”

Buckly’s hands slowly dropped below the driftwood counter. She could sense his fingers looking for something.

She took out another throwing knife, hefting it in her fingers, feeling the sweet spot where it balanced. “When you sell me something, but deliver something else, that’s cheating.”

Buckly’s hands stopped moving, and some confidence seemed to rise back into his voice. “Cheating?”

She looked Buckly square in the eyes and spoke in a low, measured voice. “Cheating. And I don’t like being cheated.” Kill or be killed. She turned the knife around so the tip rested among her fingertips, ready for its journey through the air.

“So you now have a problem.” You don’t have to kill the cockroaches if you don’t see them. Peekaboo. I see you.

As Buckly pulled a wand out from behind the counter, Missy threw the knife, hard. It hit the wand in flight and a small piece of the wand, whittled off, flew up into the air, releasing its pent-up magical energy in a shower of sparks. It fell to the ground a piece of charcoal-gray ash. The remaining portion of the wand began sizzling, sparks starting to fly from it. Startled, Buckly looked at the wand, and then at Missy.

“I’d get rid of that wand quickly, before it explodes. They don’t take to that kindly,” suggested Missy.

Buckly quickly ran out the back door, throwing the wand into the Enchanted Sea. As he walked back in, a shower of water followed the explosion from the sea. Missy leaned against a barrel of ropes, cleaning her fingernails with another throwing knife. “Now,” she continued, “we were talking about cheating…”

Buckly grinned weakly. “So I take it you’re not completely happy with the ship. We do aim to please, and take our customers very…”

“Put a cork in it, Buckly,” snapped Missy. “You tried to take advantage of me, and I’m looking for one good reason to spare your life instead of leaving you as a message for all those who flaunt the rules of the merchants’ guild.” She stepped closer, stumbling over a marlinspike on the wooden floor. As she regained her balance, the black pearl assassin’s ring fell from her pouch onto the floor. As she scooped it up and deposited it back in its home, she saw Buckly trying to quickly avert his eyes.

“You know something about this?” she asked.

“Well… you know… not exactly…” he stammered.

“Cut the drama!” she snapped. “I’m really irritated about being taken for a ride, and unless you want to go for a ride to the depths of the Enchanted Sea, you’d better find a tongue in you… and fast!”

“Well,” said Buckly, “my father, who started this shipyard, used to tell me about his guardian angel, as he called her. A woman came in, fronted him money to start it up, and never came back to check on her investment. All that was she left was a single ivory feather; she said it would let him know when her investment was due.

“She never came back, even after twenty-some years, to collect. He died beholden to her, and that never sat right with any of us.

“About four years ago, a woman showed up here. She allowed as how she was here to collect on the debt, and sure enough, she showed me another feather, just like the first. I still have them around, on that wall-hanging there.”

Missy glanced at the wall. Two ivory feathers were laid on a polished piece of driftwood. Curiously, the feathers touched, tip to tip and base to base, but the middles bowed outward, and then back in. Almost like an arrow with two points on it.

Buckly continued. “She told me how much she wanted back from her investment, and I didn’t have that kind of gold. I begged for time to get it, but she’d have none of it. Then she offered me a choice: either pay up, give the shop to her, or hook her up with someone.”

“So what did you do?” asked Missy.

“I played tour guide,” snapped Buckly. “I asked her who she wanted to meet, and she told me she wanted to meet the head of the assassins’ guild. She didn’t tell me much beyond that, and I wasn’t asking, either. I was happy to be done with her, to tell you the truth. Something didn’t seem right.”

“I tire of your story,” said Missy. “Who did she meet with, and where did she go?”

“I hooked her up with an old pirate from around these parts, and he got her in. Sad thing was shortly after that, he drove his ship into the ground and lost his mind. Hasn’t been in a right mind since. And that’s all I know, I swear it.”

Missy looked at him through hardened eyes. “Then why did this ring bother you so?”

“The last time I saw her,” began Buckly, only to quickly stop as another throwing knife pulled his hat from his head and stuck it to the wall behind him.

“I like being lied to less than being cheated,” said Missy in a low voice. “I want the rest of what you know. Or I’ll have the rest of you.”

Buckly looked at her nervously, then continued. “After I sent her over to Talrik, she came in one last time. She was wearing a ring like that one – a big one, I remember, and I remember that it bore a striking resemblance to her. She told me we were even up, and when I tried to get a better look at the ring, she got a bit upset. Nearly split me in two, she did; I was a month in the back healing up before I could walk easily again. And seeing that ring again, it just brought it all back to me.”

Missy nodded. “I see. Well, I should hang you from the yardarm outside the shop as a lesson to those who would cheat the merchants’ guild. And I should collect the cost of my ship back from you. But I’ll settle for less… this time. Give me those two feathers, and I’ll forget just how upset this whole thing made me.”

“Take ‘em, take ‘em!” said Buckly. “’Tis a small price to pay to settle this.”

Collecting the feathers, Missy slid them into her traveling pouch and headed toward the armory, to sell the equipment she’d picked up and to ponder this new information.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE:

Missy Hissy left Brimloch Roon late in the afternoon with a foul taste on her lips. It wasn’t the ale at the inn that bothered her, but the thought that even with Scanthril dead, there was someone out there still who wanted her dead. Someone who opened the contract to kill her father, and who was still willing to pay for her death. Someone that she really wanted to kill first, just on general principles, but who?

While she muddled on that, she decided to track down the pirate for Miruth’s delivery. Along the western edge of the sea she saw a great ship beached on a low sandbar, and soon found the very pirate in question.

“Ar, I’ve always been wanting one of these,” he said when she gave him the hook.

She shrugged her head. It was his to begin with, if Miruth was to be believed, and the fact that he didn’t recognize it just reinforced his insanity.

On a lark, she asked him about treasure, since all pirates had buried treasure, according to popular rumors, and he might be insane enough to tell her where his was. To her surprise, he promised her a treasure map if she could just get him a longtooth hide from Skull Island, something else he’d always wanted.

Great. Now to find Skull Island… but wait! As Missy talked with Talrik, she was accosted by a pack of longtooths! Swinging her sword gently so as to avoid removing Talrik’s other hand, she dispatched them one at a time, smiling when she recognized that one of the pelts would be salvageable. Dispatching the last of the longtooths, she skinned one of the decaying corpses and presented Talrik with the still-warm hide.

In gratitude, and apparently without realizing all that had transpired in front of him, he accepted the hide “all the way from Skull Island” and gave her a map to buried treasure. Pity she wouldn’t be able to hunt for it immediately…

Heading off, she soon came across the fabled Skull Island and entered the gloomy structure, walking through the giant mouth underneath the cracked marble teeth, each as tall as her and then some. As she passed into the eerie demesne, she felt a shudder as if life and death had suddenly changed places.

In the bowels of the Castle she found a number of strange beasts and dispatched them, one after another, without much thought. Specters, werewolves, skeletons, zombies… all manner of unspeakable creatures thrived in the dark depths of the dismal dungeon. And all fell before her blade with equal abandon.

She soon came across a lich, G’ezzered Ra, who spoke of the cursed life he lived, after sacrificing all his family for immortal life. She thought again of her father, felled by the now-dead Scanthril, and a lump came to her throat. She’d find the mysterious person who held the contract on her father, and now her.

The lich sent her to look for an artifact in the depths of the dungeons. In her quest for that, she also found the two-headed giant that Damosh was looking for, a vampiress with an attitude, and a locked vault in a library that held promise. Unfortunately, it held little else, for once it was opened, it provided a very nice wizard’s robe, a handful of ankhs, and some small trinkets.

Not much, considering the protection that the lock offered. It was one of the most intricate ones she had ever seen, but for the treasure inside… it was like killing roaches with a blessed dragon arrow. Sure, it worked, but a simple club would do the trick and offer less chance of something going wrong.

“Perhaps someone else got here first and grabbed the good stuff,” she grumbled as she went back into the dungeon. Still, why would someone leave the ankhs? Small items with a high resale value were important for every thief and merchant. For the space and weight needed to carry a piece of leather armor, she could carry a dozen or more ankhs or gems, and easily reap ten times the profits.

Whistling gently, Missy continued her journey through Skull Castle, dispatching sharks and skeletons with equal abandon. Soon she found the relic that the lich had asked for and headed back to his chamber, to listen again to his words and the unholy orchestra that played for him.

The lich screeched in delight when she handed him the relic. “You’ve found it! Oh, may it contain enough energy to replenish me…” As she stepped back, the lich began a brief ritual, extracting the energy from the relic and channeling it into his staff. As she watched, a swirling mass began to form behind him, and an unholy head began to form.

“Did you think you were beyond my control?” bellowed the head. “There is no rest for you!”

The lich screamed and pleaded with his master. “But Lord Cet…”

Cet! This was the creature she’d heard about, half god and more, and rotten to the core. He seemed powerful enough, and to prove the point, he summoned a pair of demons to do his bidding while he took care of the recalcitrant lich.

In a flash of fire and smoke, Cet magically pulled the lich’s heart from his bony body. As he screamed in agony, G’ezzered Ra looked toward Missy. “Take this,” he cried. “It may yet help you, though it has not helped meeeeeee…..”

Cet and the broken lich faded away to nothing, while the demons began to advance.

Missy dispatched them both quickly. Amazing what a few well-placed dagger strokes could do…

Picking up the staff, she recognized it from a tale she had heard in a tavern once. It was a staff of death, a thing of terror that carried the power of a lich and more. Perhaps it would come in useful…

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR:

As the tall oaks in the Gael Serran cast long shadows in the late afternoon sun, Missy Hissy stepped out of the bony jaw that marked the entrance to Skull Castle, former home to skeletons, zombies, vampires, and one pitiful lich. She tried to draw in a deep breath of fresh air, but the fetid stink of decomposing corpses flavored the breeze, nearly causing her to vomit.

“Pfauugh!” she swore, rinsing her mouth with wine and spitting it out. “If I never see another undead creature, it’ll be too soon.” Gathering her loot, she magically returned to Brimloch Roon, emptied her pack, and filled her purse. With what she’d been acquiring along the way, money was not an issue, but she liked to play it safer than otherwise.

She stopped at the guilds to report her progress.

“Here’s your shield, Strumbold,” she said. “He won’t be needin’ it any more…”

“Ye’ve done good,” said Strumbold. “Here’s a little something to express me thanks.”

Missy pocketed the gold. “Any other work that needs doing?”

“Aye, there is,” said Strumbold. “Them wizards have had one o’ their own go bad, and they can’t quite take care of the problem. They’ve come to us to put it to bed. ” He snickered. “Guess there’s not so much good in all that high-falutin’ magic anyways... If’n ye can take out this wizard, this Ram-a-Camel or whatever his name is, ye’ll help the clan out quite a bit. Not to mention putting those pointy-caps in a spot where they owe us...”

“I’ll see if I come up with anything,” said Missy. “D’ye think the wizard guildmaster would know any more details?”

Strumbold winced. “Old Say-Basta? He might, but ye’d have to ask ‘im. And that, I don’t wish on anyone.”

Missy nodded. “I’ve spoken with him once already. That was enough for three lifetimes for me. Still, I have to head back to talk to him again. Took care of a little something for him, and I need to get paid.

Strumbold sorted through a small chest of drawers behind the counter. Turning, he offered one piece of equipment that Missy hadn’t seen before. It was a small tube, hollow, and containing two pieces of honeycomb, long dried and cleaned but still glistening slightly. “’Ere,” he said. “These may come in handy later, to save your senses.” He explained their use briefly. “Whenever ye have to talk to Ears there, these little babies are worth their weight in gold. For the work ye’ve done, consider them a gift.”

Missy thanked him and went on to the Wizards’ Guild. As she walked in, Sebastio rose to greet her. “You’ve done it! The menace is no more...”

Missy reached into her pocket, one eye on the vociferous guildmaster, and slipped out the pieces of honeycomb. Rolling them between her fingers to warm them up, she formed one, and then the other, into a small rod. Raising her hand to her head as subtly as she could, she slipped the waxen rod into her ear canal, where it began to expand slightly from the greater warmth and slowly blocked out Sebastio’s words. Well, they weren’t blocked out completely, but the noise was definitely muffled.

Missy reached out a hand, several hours later. “Thanks for the gold,” she said. “Anything else that needs doing?”

She should have known better. Sebastio launched into another diatribe, this one about walking trees and his desire to catch a seedpod from one of them. Once he finally finished, she asked about the renegade wizard; curiously, Sebastio tried to avoid the subject, even when she asked him in the back room, the spot where only guild members were allowed. Apparently, they Guild didn’t want news going on about their difficult member. Wouldn’t do well to have a member flaunting guild authority so publicly...

When Missy finally left Brimloch Roon, she returned to the gates of Skull Castle and began her journey to find the leprechaun and the other items asked of her. After sloshing through acres of watery bliss, slaughtering nosy shark after nosy shark, she came across a clearing in the brush. As she stepped forward, she was beset by a pack of forest raptors, distant cousins to the one whose egg she had returned so long ago. As her blade danced a scarlet tango among the fierce forest mavens, she heard a new sound, one that made her stop for a moment.

“Tra-la, troo-loo,” cried the voice of a little man in green pants, shirt, and hat. Slicing open the last of the raptors, she set on in fast pursuit.

Chasing him around the island, she tried to get him to stop, but he was having little of it. Reaching into her magical bag of tricks, she prepared an incinerate spell and soon launched fire his way.

It stopped him, and as she prepared another, the leprechaun suddenly disappeared. Cursing, Missy searched around, beating the bushes and knocking down trees in her search for him. Nothing. Nothing, that is, except a couple more of the giant walking salads that populated the Gael Serran! Well, at least those incinerate spells could still prove useful...

...and as she was attacking the jungle lilies, she heard a voice ring out.

“Ye’ll never catch me,” taunted the leprechaun, and in frustration, Missy threw an incinerate blast out at him.

Unfortunately, she was in the middle of battle with the walking salads. And just as she’d practiced at the warrior guilds so many times, she sheathed her sword, took out and equipped a bow and an arrow, and let fly at the obnoxious gnome. As the scarlet red feathers began their flight, she realized that she was shooting with one of her enchanted dragon arrows. In fact, with her last dragon arrow – the quiver was empty!

As the leprechaun ran away again, Missy re-focused on the angry lilies, slicing off frond after frond. Her jaw set with determination, she slew the last of the lilies and stalked off to find the leprechaun with renewed vigor. She needed that last arrow... no questions asked.

She saw the leprechaun periodically, with her last dragon arrow still hanging out from his flanks, flapping in the breeze, but he always disappeared after she ran his way. Occasionally, she could get a shot in, but usually, he just vanished into thin air.

In her chase, she found the renegade wizard not far from where she’d left Talrik. It took two strokes to send him on to the next world. “Not exactly challenging,” she said as she stood over the decomposing wizard. “You’d have thought the wizards’ guild could have handled him.” Still, a job was a job, and she’d spend the gold just as easily.

Her anger heightened, and her resolve strengthened, she returned to the clearing where she’d first seen the leprechaun and hunted around. Soon enough, the little green critter came back, and this time she was ready. Scant moments later, he was a tiny green stain in the sand that was slowly fading, and she picked up her last dragon arrow along with the leprechaun’s staff. “That ought to be enough proof for Miruth,” she thought, and she set her course back to Brimloch Roon.

--------------------
Enjoy.

*B*
Minister, etc. (ret.)

CHAPTER 25: LOOSE ENDS

With a burst of magical energy, Missy Hissy reappeared in the Brimloch Roon town square, eyes squinting under the wizards’ perpetual daylight. It had been pitch black outside the town, and low though the light was, her eyes were not used to it. “I’ve got to find a better place to come back to,” she muttered to herself. “Wouldn’t want to get caught in someone’s trap out here...” As her eyes adjusted, she strolled down the main thoroughfare to Miruth’s pawn shop. “Might as well get rid of this staff quickly, and save the weight.”

As she entered the shop, Miruth looked up and acknowledged her. “You’re back, I see. Any news of the leprechaun? Or are you as feeble a questor as they say?”

Missy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but I’ll tell you they’ve never seen my blade... or else someone paid to bring them back from the dead. In any case, you wanted proof of the leprechaun, and here’s his staff.”

Miruth looked at the staff, clucking as he did so. “Pretty impressive... a real leprechaun’s staff, including the family crest and personal sigil. Not bad... for a piece of wood pulled off a ship’s barnacle-encrusted bottom! This doesn’t prove anything to me, other than you’ve – glurp!”

Missy lifted him off the ground by his whiskers, bringing his eyes up even with hers. “Did I just misunderstand you? Are you saying you don’t believe me?” She dropped Miruth, and he fell to the floor with an ignoble splat, knocking against a display of magical powders.

“Harrumph... Well... ya see, these Leprechaun sticks are a ducat a dozen. They sell ‘em at county fairs, tourist hangouts, and pool halls, tryin’ to make people believe that they can grab some o’ the leprechaun’s luck. ‘Course, there ain’t no luck worth havin’ in there, so anything that happens, the guy sellin’ the stick credits the stick. Anything goes wrong, ‘e blames the buyer. And by the time the stick runs out of enchantments, the seller has long gone off to the next fair.

“Yep, Leprechaun sticks don’t prove nothin’... but a Leprechaun’s stone would. With those, you can feel the magic coursin’ through it. No one’s ever been able to duplicate that, or even come close. Find me one of those, and we’ll be talkin’.”

Missy glared at him. “Any more parts of this job that you’ve conveniently forgotten? My temper’s running hard these days, and I’m itching for a place to let it out.”

Miruth backed up hastily. “No, no, nothing else... as long as ye don’t come back with a piece of black pearl. That stuff’s powerful evil, and rumor has it that a piece of black pearl touching a leprechaun’s stone is what set off the Great Cataclysm years back.”

Missy fished the black pearl flying merwoman ring from her pocket. “You mean like this?”

Miruth stepped back, visibly shaken. “Where did you... never mind. Get rid of that – it’s evil, I tell ye. Ain’t no one who’s ever come to good from havin’ a piece of black pearl around.”

Missy stepped closer, making Miruth squirm nervously. “Well, this piece of pearl has been might unlucky for everyone else, but it’s got a secret waiting for me. Since you know so much about black pearl, can you tell me anything else about this?”

Miruth gulped nervously, his eyes flitting toward the door in hope of salvation. “Well...” he began.

“No stories!” snapped Missy. “Just truth – or I’ll make you regret that your parents ever met the first time.”

“There’s a legend of a strange mer-queen, told from grandparent to grandchild for generations,” continued Miruth. “I only know what was told to me, but in years gone by, there was a flying merwoman who was the patron and savior of the city of Collasium. She was a witch and more, casting spells for prosperity and protecting the city from invaders.”

“What else do the legends say?” asked Missy.

“Not much,” said Miruth. “In the Great Cataclysm, the city of Collasium was lost in the seas, and the sea around it was lost as well. No one’s heard anything in centuries, although more recent legends have the flying merwoman visiting damnation on those who fail to do their chores. But I always figured that was some parent’s attempt to manipulate their offspring.”

“Where can I find this Lost Sea?” asked Missy.

“No one’s seen it in centuries,” responded Miruth, “although some stories exist of tree-surfers who have crossed over the very trees that bring us shade and food. They claim to have seen the Lost Sea, but they tend to disappear quickly. Fall out of a tree and break a leg, and you’ll be sharing sleeping quarters with Anephas.”

With a *harrumph* Missy collected her gold and left the pawn shop, her thoughts fixed on the Lost Sea and the lost city it held.

Chapter 26: Elder Alder

Rain drizzled out from the clouds in the Gael Serran as Missy Hissy swam through the enchanted sea. She had taken her boat out several times, but found it sluggish to respond, and discovered she could move faster by simply swimming in the buoyant waters. She headed off east from Brimloch Roon, past where she had seen the leprechaun to his death, and then north. She encountered numerous sharks, crabs, and other sea creatures along the way, mere annoyances to slow her progress ever so slightly.

Openings in the thick brush which lined the sides of the sea were few and far between. She checked out each one she came to, disturbing the occasional raptor and once scuttling a turtle nest. The turtles had all hatched, though, so she was unable to bring any eggs back. As a food, turtle eggs were quite the delicacy, according to the innkeeper in Brimloch Roon.

She found a rough path that led to a vine-covered statue, and soon realized it was the fountain of Isis she had been looking for. Sadly, its water no longer ran sweet, but she marked the spot for Malakai at the temple.

Turning far north, she spied a sandy beach, and upon advancing, saw an old, withered tree in the distance. As she moved forward, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Something wasn’t what it seemed, and she looked around for a raptor or some other beast. As she glanced back toward the bay she had left, a sudden voice caused her to jump into the air.

“Greetings.”

She whirled around, dagger in hand, to discover she was listening to the old tree. Noting that it didn’t appear to be able to move, she relaxed slightly and responded back, feeling a little silly talking to a piece of wood. “Hello.”

“I am Oakenmir, guardian of the forests. It is rare that someone comes around here. What brings you to these parts?”

Missy looked, trying to identify what part of the tree she should be talking to. “I’m looking for something,” she said. “A shrine, and a living tree.”

“We have many shrines here,” replied Oakenmir. “To Isis, to Anephas, to Aquata… they are many. Goddesses, gods, demigods… they are all respected. Not so the trees, though. The forests are ignored, considered callously by all who pass. Yet few who pass realize that the forest is more alive than they think.”

Alive! It suddenly struck Missy that she was talking to a living tree… the kind Sebastio was looking for. “Speaking of trees,” said Missy, “do you know where I might find some tree seeds?”

“Worry not about that,” said Oakenmir. “Seeds are the promise of life. I knew life once, back when I was a guardian of the Mavin. She of the water threatened me with fire unless I renounced my guardianship. I refused, and we battled for days. The sands around you were once lush with greenery; I am all that remains. And within a few centuries, all will be back where it was.”

“You renounced the guardianship?”

“Aye, I gave it up to her and her fire-breathing pet. Little good it did me, and she swore that she would continue my charge, that her pet would serve as guardian. All I have left now is time and patience… patience and time… and one last seed to start the spawning of a new generation. In another century, it will be ready to germinate. One can’t rush these things.”

Missy eyed the tree carefully. “Might I borrow that seed for a bit?” she asked. “Or can you tell me where I might find another?”

Oakenmir’s branches rustled with fury. “Borrow my seed? Would you lend your arm to another, waiting patiently for its return? Never have I heard such perfidious talk, not since she came to take my charge. Perhaps you should go, before I become angry.”

“Peace, Grandfather,” said Missy. “I meant no disrespect. Tell me more of she who took your charge. You mean the one to whom you gave the guardianship?”

“Yes, her,” replied Oakenmir, his branches rustling less angrily. “She of the water and air, she who saved and damned a city. It is because of her I have only one seed left. She insisted I was too old and feeble to fulfill my duties, and when I protested, brought the fourth element to bear against me. Water and air I can withstand, and earth is one with me, but fire… such terrible fires rained down from the heavens that my bark was horribly burned. I have been unable to bear fruit since then, and for decades, I wept. Two thousand years of nurturing and raising seeds, and to lose them in a week… it was horrid.

“Then, some two centuries ago, I discovered a seed that had somehow been protected from the ravaging fire. I have kept it carefully, exposing it to the warming sun and the nourishing rains. I have watched it grow, and it continues to expand. In another span, it will start to dry out, preparing its hard casing for the opening of new life.”

Missy felt strange. She had a mission, to recover a seed, but at what cost? The cost of ending a species? The peace she had been feeling since her first zenmaster training was wearing away, replaced by the hollow reactionless thoughts of the assassin. As she looked at the tree in the late afternoon sun, she thought she caught a glimpse of the seed.

Guilt began to creep over her at the thought of crushing the dreams of the once-proud tree, and then she began to think of what she had lost. “I think I know of her who caused you this grief,” said Missy. “I too am seeking her, and I would deliver retribution to her.”

“You?” said Oakenmir. “What would you have to do with the waterbird?”

“This,” said Missy, showing the black pearl ring. “Is this the one who harmed you?”

Oakenmir’s branches pulled back. “It is she! It is she! I thought never to see her again, and you have brought her image before me. This I do not like…”

“She stole your future,” said Missy. “She stole my past, and perhaps my future. I wish her nothing but harm and death, and if I can mete out justice on your behalf, I would be honored to do so.”

“Though I have long passed mortal need,” said Oakenmir, “I am still angry for the death she has caused. She slew my children, and I would see her pay a penance. What do you need from me to make her suffer?”

“Though it grieves me,” said Missy, “I believe that your last seed may help me to find her. I have been quested to find a seed from the living tree, and you are the most living tree I have ever encountered.”

Oakenmir rustled long and hard in the still air of the Gael Serran night, now lit by the waning moon. “What— what would you need my last child for?”

Missy swallowed. “Sebastio is doing work of some sort where he requires the seed. I do not know the nature of the work, but I can promise you that I will perish before I allow harm to come to your seed, and that if at all possible, I will bring your seed back. I have served as a ranger, learning the needs and will of the forest, and I desire that the forest continue to thrive.”

Oakenmir paused for a long time. The sun started to wake up in the east before he finally spoke again. “Great is my love for my child, and great is my hatred for she who did this to me. I have watched Sebastio for many years, and I have seen the works he has done. I also sense the love of nature within you. Though it pains me, I will grant you this gift, I will loan you my soul and my future. Be sure that you bring it back, or I will rob you of your present as well.”

A branch slowly uncurled, green with newness of life and festooned with a single solitary leaf. Hanging under it was a large seed with the image of a face in its shell.

“Take this. Pull gently, and you will not damage me. Take it to Sebastio, and find she who steals the future.”

Missy accepted the seed and tucked it carefully into her pack. “I will treat it and you with all honor and dignity,” she said.

Oakenmir, having let go his last seed, seemed to visibly droop. “For centuries, I feared I was at the end. Now I know it… and to help you track her down, I will tell you this. After she wrested fire onto me and took away my charge, I returned the favor, calling in the powers of earth to take away her demesne. I could not remove the water which gave her nourishment nor the air which gave her life, but I could take away that which was dear to her. I called upon the mountains to rise and the lands to fall, and buried her precious city beneath the waves of the sea. No one has seen it since, and that area has become known as the Lost Sea. I will open it for you, but it will not be easy. You must go through Anephas’ Shrine to get to her city; perhaps there, you may find her.”

“I will do this,” said Missy. “No matter what happens, you shall be avenged, should it take my last mortal breath.”

“Then leave me,” said Oakenmir. “Leave an old tree to his sadness and reminiscing, while I count the centuries until I too shall pass.”

Missy silently retreated from the glade, thoughts of her un-named opponent filling her head as she retreated to Brimloch Roon to fulfill her quests and start anew.

Chapter 27: Promises, promises

Missy Hissy looked up at the sun high in the Gael Serran sky. It had been there when she left Brimloch Roon for the seed, and as she returned, it was back again. A heavy weariness fell over her as she trudged toward the Wizard’s Guild and Sebastio, to complete his quest and to move onward. The door to the guild swung wide open as she entered, paused a moment, and slammed solidly once she was past.

“Ah, she who assists an aged sorcerer… have you returned with the seed of life, the promise of a thousand generations, the—“
“Cut it short, Sebastio,” she snarled. “I don’t have time for your prattle. I spoke with the living tree himself, and I’ve retrieved his last seed. It’s on loan to you, and I need to bring it back when you’re done.”

“Bring it back?” asked Sebastio. “Why, I hardly think that it—“

“Bring it back,” interrupted Missy, fixing him with a purposeful glare. “There are no other options that you want to talk about.”

Sebastio eyed her curiously. Few spoke to the guildmaster like this. Rumors abounded that he could transform people into something else, and useful as they were, he did nothing to discredit them. This one was nothing like the rest of the town. “As you wish,” he said finally. “I will do what I can, but I make no promises. Magic is a wondrous and amazing art… huh?“

He looked around, but could see no trace of her. Missy Hissy had disappeared.

Leaving the dust of Brimloch Roon behind her, Missy started swimming off to the northeast, past where she’d hunted down the miserable leprechaun. There was a channel of water there that she hadn’t had the time to investigate, and it sounded like where Oakenmir had talked about the Shrine of Anephas. Dispatching sharks and crabs, razor gills and barracudas, she made her way through the sea, onto the land, and into the water again.

As she emerged, she saw an expanse of desert in front of her. No grass, save an occasional clump, and little other vegetation. It was amazing, then, that the group of walking salads was surviving out there, and perhaps their dehydration helped save her. Powerful though her magic was, and powerful the Gezurite mind tricks seemed to be, when several of the lilies attacked her at the same time, she was in serious trouble.

After dispatching them and quaffing a great healing potion, she plodded onwards. The very sand seemed to suck the energy out of her, and the sun poured down its incessant rays.

Up ahead, she saw a strange beast. Half lion, half human, it stalked the desert like a chocolate cat with an attitude problem. And like any cat, it didn’t seem to think it had a problem.

It asked three questions of her, and while the first question was simple, the second – about who the savior of the land was – threw her for a loop. She answered incorrectly, and the Sphinx reared back to attack her.

“Don’t I get a lifeline?” she mumbled as she drew sword and dagger from their sheaths and sent the steel flying. Several minutes later, the Sphinx was no more, and neither were the handful of sea scoundrels who had interrupted her during the battle.

As she walked forward, she saw a huge stone construction, a giant testimony to times gone past. This must be the Shrine of Anephas that Oakenmir had mentioned, and that Sebastio had asked her to find a way to open. She looked around for a key, but found nothing; only a glistening ward hung in the entryway, its wizened features mocking her efforts to pass.

She realized that it looked a little like the lich’s staff of death, and upon bringing the staff out from her backpack, felt it growing warm. As she approached the ward, the staff grew warmer until it finally leapt out of her hands, smashing the ward as it did so. The resulting release of magical energy exploded, sending Missy flying backwards onto the sand with an ignoble *thump*.

Brushing the sand from her armor, she got back up and headed into the shrine.

Chapter 28: Sandy Beaches

As Missy Hissy flipped the familiar lever that closed one world and opened another, she thought about that fateful zenmaster lesson she’d had. Master Wu had meant to give her an idea of what the future could be like, and while she hadn’t been interested at the time, the experience with Oakenmir caused her to think more about it.

When the second door finally groaned open, Missy stepped forward gingerly in the dim light. The faint torches in the wall were flickering and sputtering, sure signs that they were on their last legs. “Of course, if Anephas died hundreds of years ago, who’s been changing the torches?”

With the walls barely illuminated, Missy stepped forward toward an illuminated room at the end of the corridor. As she approached it, she sensed that something wasn’t right, and discovered that the floor was missing in the room in front of the illuminated room. Searching, she found nothing that could help her out in crossing the floorless room, although she did spy a button of some sort on the opposite wall. She threw several knives at it, but it did no good. Try as she might, she couldn’t get the angle right to stick the button in place.

Tightening her pack, she stepped back several paces, got a running start, and leaped...

... across the gaping pit...
... to fall slightly short...
... and smash into the rough wall below like a ton of bricks...
... falling down into the pit...
... and landing with a bruising crash on a pile of bones, the force of her impact sending a skull skittling across the floor.

Sitting for a moment and catching her breath, she suddenly realized she’d forgotten one of the basics in the moon mage’s manual – creating a portal near the entrance. Had she remembered to do so, she could simply teleport her way back up. Now she was stuck until she could find a way out.

“Well, I don’t want to wait to be rescued,” she thought, as she looked at the bones around her. By a rough count, there were 13 skulls, from Felpurr to Oomphaz. She didn’t feel like adding a Rattkin skull to the mix, so she began looking around. As she thumped the walls, one sounded slightly different, and pushing it slid it open. She stepped forward to a fetid blast of air; no one had apparently come in here in centuries.

Missy moved forward through the hewn stone corridor, eyes adjusting to the fading torches. She thought about casting a torchlight spell of her own, but decided to hold off until she could find out what kinds of creatures inhabited this place. “No sense drawing too much attention to yourself,” she thought.

As she rounded another corner, she was suddenly attacked from behind by a pack of gold scorpions. Steel flying, she soon dispatched them and discovered they’d been lying in a dark corridor she’d missed. “Okay, time for the torch light,” she muttered. “I’d rather have things announce their presence than to hide.”

Turning, she investigated the corridor and at its end, found an iron chest. Opening it carefully, she discovered the Relic of Isis that Malakai had asked her to find. Secreting it in her cloak, she turned around and went onward.

Back in the room where she was attacked, there was one area where it felt like there should be a door, but there wasn’t. After carefully prodding and poking, she looked up into the darkness and spotted what seemed to be a ledge up there. She filed its location away for later. Perhaps it would be useful.

Stepping through the remaining doorway, she soon found herself approaching a room with gaping holes in the floor. It appeared to be the one she’d been trying to jump into, and as she approached, solid stone spikes suddenly drove down from the ceiling. “Glad I didn’t make the jump after all,” she thought. That would have been a rude awakening, for sure.

As she looked in, she spotted two doors. Unfortunately, both were closed, so she couldn’t just run into them. And the spikes seemed to come down in a regular pattern. Eying the ceiling carefully, she waited until the spikes between her and the closest door were starting their way up. Running quickly, she tried to squeeze between the door and the closest spike. If she had to spend time picking a lock, perhaps she’d be protected.

Fortunately, the door swung open at her approach, and she ducked in. As she moved forward, she slipped in a room covered in sand and fell into a pit. She saw buttons on all four walls, and gritting her teeth, pushed one. Suddenly a gold scorpion fell onto her head, and after slaying it, she looked up and saw a hole in the wall. “Perhaps a chute of some kind,” she thought. “I’ll try another one.”

She pressed another button and watched another scorpion scuttle out of the chute. Feeling irritated, she punched the button some two dozen times, each time summoning another scorpion. There were now so many she could almost climb on their backs to get out… except that she didn’t really want to get several dozen scorpion stings in her legs. No telling what that might do…

She slew the batch of scorpions (twenty-three by count), and for grins, punched the button some more. More scorpions came out, and she realized that she could probably spend as much time in here as she wanted, summoning and slaying, summoning and slaying. Still, it would probably get boring after a while, and in fact, she had to stifle a yawn. Pushing the other buttons released one last scorpion and then made a pillar in the center start to rise. Cursing, she jumped on, and rode the pillar up to the sandy room.

Chapter 29: Altared States

As Missy rode the stone pillar back up to the sandy room, she looked around. In the flickering torchlight, she could see faded paintings on the walls, pictures of an era gone by. Images told of Cet’s dark rise to power, and of the valiant battle of Ruhon, champion of the forests who had fallen to Cet’s evil power. The attempts of Longtooth, aged magician from eras long since forgotten, were also documented; Longtooth’s final moments, being pulled apart by demons from the darkest depths of the underworld, ran into the rise of Anephas.

Anephas, as she followed down the corridors, had a rise of his own – worship and prayer, favored by the gods, and bring light to the perpetual darkness. Until he, too, passed on, to the next world; only this time, he was able to bring Cet with him.

As Missy walked, she suddenly noticed a wispy image in the background of Cet and Anephas’ final battle. Brushing the cobwebs and dust from the wall, she saw a fish, high up in the air. Actually, upon closer examination, it appeared to be a woman with a fish’s tail… and she was flying! Slipping the black pearl ring from her pack, she compared it to the painting on the wall; quite similar in style, although she couldn’t quite make out a face in the painting.

“Hmmm…. Wonder what she’s doing there?” thought Missy. As an afterthought, she went back to the other paintings, and in each one, she could see the same ghostly image, the winged mermaid present at each champion’s final passing. She was behind the trees where Ruhon fell behind Shurugeon Castle, turned on and impaled by the stags he’d raised. She was in the mystic fog where Longtooth had made his final battle, in the early morning by Nymph Lake. “What is she, some kind of death leech?”

Pocketing the ring once again, she stared at the room in front of her. A black-and-white checkerboard pattern covered the floor, the brightness of the colors almost making her head ache. As she stepped onto the floor, it felt strange, and pulling her foot back, she watched as the floor suddenly fell out from beneath her! Staring into the darkness, the torchlight glinted off a pair of eyes far below. Not quite sure what it was, and certain there were no friends in this forsaken place, she stepped back and let loose a firestorm, then two. And finally three, when she heard, at long last, a heavy thump from a large body hitting the ground.

Inching forward, she could see that in some places, the dust on the floor was undisturbed, while others, like the piece of floor that had fallen beneath her feet, the dust was much lighter, and often smeared. She surmised that the less dusty tiles were ones that moved, brushed clean by unfortunates before her who had fallen to their death with the strange beast below. She stepped carefully, putting her feet gingerly onto the dusty tiles, and soon crossed safely over the room.

As she looked back into the room, torchlight danced off something shiny in the room beneath the room, offering a promise of treasure and hope. Creating a portal so she could return safely from the pit, she stepped gingerly down into the darkness until she slipped and fell into a pile of sand.

With her torchlight barely making a dent in the gloom beneath the fractured floor, she saw some gold and a shiny sword, almost like a rapier, left behind by the beast she had slain from above. As she walked her way around the room, a panel opened in one wall and she saw a small passageway illuminated in murky light from outside. Curious, and with one hand mentally on a teleport spell, she followed the path and soon found another sliding door, this one leading to a room with two temple guardians. As it turned out, they were also susceptible to the wrath of a firestorm, and after cleaning out that area, she continued down the path.

Soon she found a chest with a statue of two baboons linked together, seemingly playing a simian game of tug of war. Figuring it might be a valuable trinket in Brimloch Roon, she put it into her pack and continued on, finding herself in a long and rising corridor where it grew darker and darker.

One final step, and she suddenly found herself falling, down into more darkness. As she started reciting the teleport spell to bring herself to safety, she hit the bottom with a squishy *thump*.

Looking around, she realized that she’d been here before; she was in the alcove where she thought she’d seen a ledge high up. Now she knew where it led to.

Returning back through the sandy room and across the tile room, she began exploring more of the tomb. As she moved further in, she encountered more artwork, these with more people she recognized. D’Soto the champion was shown, falling in his final battle with Haleabus; the wispy flying mermaid was there as well, sailing above the crumbled walls of Shurugeon Castle. More artwork revealed the fall of Oakenmir, but as she studied it, Oakenmir appeared to be stronger, more cunning, and more vicious than she had thought. Images of villagers impaled on thorny tree branches dotted the landscape, and the wispy mermaid was much more solid – a major image, in fact.

Wiping the years of dust and dirt, Missy was disappointed to see that the mermaid’s face was, even in this large picture, blurred out. In fact, it looked like it was deliberately erased. Whoever the mermaid was, she didn’t want to be found, apparently.

Continuing on, Missy soon found more elaborately decorated rooms and a couple of scarabs hanging from the walls. Examining more closely, she saw that they moved, appearing to be switches; moving them, she examined the area and soon found her way to a pair of rooms, each with a switch.

Flipping one appeared to open a door for the other, and from one of them came the Darkened One, the creature that Sensei Asami was so concerned with.

As the Darkened One approach, Missy had to stifle a laugh. While he was certainly huge and looked to be a worthy opponent, he had apparently spent too much time underground. The simple opening of the door had apparently surprised him, and before he could respond, it tried to close again, squishing him between itself and the wall. He pushed it away, but it kept coming back, trying to close and squishing him in the process. It was like a giant game of pat-a-cake, only the Darkened One was getting patted.

With a grin on her face, Missy stood back and let loose elemental blast after elemental blast at the Darkened One. While steel would have been a better choice for combat, and fire wasn’t overly effective, it did the trick, and in short order, the Darkened One lay decomposing on the rough stone floor.

Moving forward, Missy soon found a doorway that led to a room where some monkeys came flying down a chute. Dispatching them, she continued on to a door that opened to reveal a chamber, filled with glistening black columns around the edges, a shallow pool in the middle, and a black stone altar against the far wall. As she stepped in to the strangely illuminated room, the black columns suddenly started to rise, revealing mummies and scarab priests that were some final kind of protector.

Running forward to engage each in close combat, she soon reduced them to piles of dust, small baubles and ankhs falling with their brittle bones. She looked around; this was the most ornately decorated room by far, and to her surprise, she recognized one more person in the paintings; the angel Kerah, flying high above the Gael Serran and surveying the wondrous things that Anephas had done.

One chest yielded a statue of Kerah, and as she placed it on the black altar, there was a rumble behind her. Turning, she saw the water in the pool start to froth, and suddenly the bottom of the pool began to rise. Looking up, she could see the reflection of water on the ceiling.

The ceiling? Water fell, didn’t it? That’s how water mills operated, and rivers flowed… or so she thought. As the giant pillar rumbled up, it stopped for a moment, and began to descend. Running up, Missy jumped on it and rode up to an underwater chamber. Looking around, she spied a lever on the wall and flipped it, watching a doorway above start to open up. With her lungs starting to burn inside, she swam to the opening door and began to head up, eager to see what lay on the other side.

Chapter 30: Of Palaces and Prisons

Missy Hissy grabbed the edges of the still-opening door and hurled herself upward. Her ears pounded from the suddenly increased water pressure, and she knew that solace lay in finding a source of air. She followed the trace bubbles that escaped from her lips. Natural laws couldn’t be confused enough, and she knew they would head toward daylight, or whatever passed for it. Kicking strongly and debating the wisdom of swimming in a full set of armor, she continued upward.

Missy broke the water’s surface into a small room, much like a temple or a throne room. Taking several deep breaths to replenish her tortured lungs, she looked around. The room was beautiful, with black and white pearl pillars gleaming translucently and gold highlights reflecting the flickering fires. Beautiful windows surrounded the room on all sides, allowing the light to filter in. As she looked around, the place was deserted, except for a gentle humming coming from the high-back seashell chair on the other side. The melody was an engaging song, brimming with hope and promise.

Missy stepped closer, and the chair spun around. Kerah, guardian angel, greeted her and smiled. “Welcome below the sea,” she intoned. “I’m pleased to see you. There is much still to do.”

Missy approached. “Wha- what are you doing down here? Where is this place? What’s going on?”

Kerah nodded. “You should have many questions. This place is my solace, my refuge. When Anephas sacrificed all, I kept this place as a way to remember. But Cet grows stronger, and there is much yet to be done. Anephas can be brought back to life in the pyramid below if you can bring the light of the gods to his burnt body. Then you can take this teleport to Cet’s Tomb, where he can put the dark lord down forever.”

Missy looked around. “I’m not so sure I’m up for this. I mean, where do mortals fit into the gods’ plans? I thought the gods merely toyed with us, creating problems and challenges in our lives. I’ve never heard of a god relying on a mortal for anything, or needing a mortal’s help.”

Kerah’s face grew long. “’Tis true, the gods usually stay away from mortals. There are yet some times, however, when the works of a mortal can sway the fates the gods have planned. Anephas did so centuries ago, and many of the champions who have preceded you have also played in the realm of the gods. The gods do not control as much of life as the priests would have you believe. And your help is now needed.”

Missy stared at Kerah for several long minutes. Her mind raced. Anephas had been a mortal? A mortal who battled a god to a stalemate? But he was only a magician, or so it seemed. What more could be out there for her? What more could she lose? Her father, her mother, her childhood… there was little else to be taken from her. “Okay, I’m in. But if Anephas couldn’t defeat Cet before, why should he succeed now?”

Kerah smiled and seemed relieved. “Before, Anepahs was a champion, but a magical champion. He knew little of battle and war, and the best battle he could plan was a tragic draw. You know more of arms and militia than most, and with your help, there can be no other result. Success will be ours…” Kerah seemed to drift mentally, picturing the results of a glorious battle with Cet. “Besides,” she said, coming back, “if Anephas leaves this shrine, Cet will be able to leave as well. You can enter Cet’s tomb, open the other teleporter, and allow Anephas to enter undetected.”

Missy looked puzzled. “But to get up here, doesn’t he have to leave the shrine?”

Kerah’s eyes flashed an ebony glare. “My magic can keep him protected in here for a few minutes in my element. By the time Anephas comes here, there will be no time for Cet to do anything. Just start spinning the teleporter there, and the rest will come.”

“Okey-dokey.” Missy walked over to the teleporter, put a hand on it, and started it spinning. As it rotated, it seemed off-balance, and by the time it rotated for the third time, the ancient stone spun off its balance and shattered on the floor. “Oops.” She looked back at Kerah. “Sorry about that.”

Kerah seemed to be counting numbers, a strange practice in most cases.

“Hey,” Missy said. “This obelisk thing fell out of the spinny piece. Maybe it’s still usable.”

Kerah finally hissed through clenched teeth. “Take it and go. Perhaps it can still wake Anephas. Perhaps all is not completely lost here. Just leave!”

Missy looked around. “Leave where?” Then she saw a fish swim past one of the windows. She walked over to window and saw that it was not a window, but a magical wall of air holding the water out. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the wall of water and left.

Following her bubbles again, she made her way to the surface. As she bobbed lightly in the warm water, she saw a beach in the distance. As she reached it, she saw numerous small footprints throughout the sand. Strange that they weren’t washed away by the tides, and stranger still that no other tracks, human, animal, or humanoid, sullied the sand. At the end of the clearing, she found a treasure chest, and opening it, found a green opal stone in a necklace. She recognized it, a clover stone, and realized that it must be the leprechaun’s treasure. Pity she’d slain him before. At least now, Miruth might put a cork in his mouth about it.

Creating another portal, Missy teleported back to Brimloch Roon to unload some of her adventuring acquisitions and to have one more talk about leprechauns…

Chapter 31: Of Leprechauns and Loons

As Missy Hissy appeared in the central park in Brimloch Roon, she heard a rumble of thunder. "Strange," she muttered to herself. "I thought the wizardmagic around here kept nature out..." Collecting her thoughts and possessions, she turned and headed for the pawn shop.

Her thoughts ran back to Kerah in the undersea temple. She had appeared strangely angry when the teleporter broke, but Missy wasn’t quite sure why. Certainly it hadn’t been her method of entering and exiting that temple – it clearly hadn’t been used in ages. And the platform through which Missy entered... that hadn’t moved in an eternity as well, judging by the algae slime which had grown on the top of it. Kerah must have her own special control of moon magic, able to set portals in places like the undersea temple. Missy knew she could only create one portal; perhaps Kerah’s skills allowed her to create more of them.

As she pushed open the door to Miruth’s pawn shop, a brief smile crossed Missy’s face. Soon she’d be done with Miruth’s endless prattle about the leprechaun. Between him and Sebastio, the beeswax earplugs from Strumbold were getting quite a workout.

Miruth looked up as she came in. "What’s that you’ve brought? I can sense the energy."

Missy took out the clover stone. "This? Why, it’s a little trinket picked up at a fair, sold by a huckster..."

"No, you lie," screeched Miruth. "I can feel it – it’s a clover stone. There really is a leprechaun!"

"Was," Missy corrected. "Was. As in pushing up daisies, looking at the grass from the other side, moved into the pine bedroom, done. Was a leprechaun. And you’ve now got the proof he existed. Right?" She glared at Miruth.

"Yeah, I’ve got it." Miruth eyed Missy. "Oh, you’re wanting your reward. Here’s some gold, and I’ll put a word in for you with the guild. You can consider yourself a full guild member now."

"Anything else you need done?"

"Naw," said Miruth, fondling the clover necklace. "Nothin’ else needs doin’."

Missy stepped out of the shop, then realized she’d forgotten to off-load some of her newly found gear. As she stepped back in, Miruth looked up at her. "You’re too late," he said. "Someone else already returned the necklace. But to thank you for your effort, I’ll put a word in for you with the guild. You can consider yourself a full guild member now."

Missy stopped and stared. "I am the someone else," she said in a low voice. "You already rewarded me, remember?"

Miruth ignored her. "Whatcha want?"

Missy sold off the swords and shields she’d picked up, wondering what had happened to Miruth’s mental abilities. True, he was an older rattkin, but he shouldn’t be that bad off... leastways, not if he was supposed to be running a shop like that. Missy collected her gold and headed out once again.

On a lark, she stepped back in. "You’re too late," barked Miruth. "Someone else..." Missy turned around quickly and headed out. Some things you just don’t want to deal with.

Muttering aloud, causing passers-by to glance at her nervously, Missy strode to the edge of town, then through the gates. Looking over the waters of the Enchanted Sea, she took a deep breath, inhaling their salty spray. No sign of the thunderclouds she’d heard inside the town. Interesting, she thought, as she teleported back to Kerah’s underwater temple.

Chapter 32: Loose Ends

As Missy Hissy arrived at the underwater temple, she realized she'd forgotten a couple of things in Brimloch Roon. Before she could teleport back, she heard the rumbling of the underwater door. Curious, she looked as a group of adventurers climbed up from the watery depths and looked around the temple, taking in the white pearl columns, the magical light, and the beautiful Kerah. As their eyes fell upon her, one - a mighty warrior, by appearances, asked her name. "Missy Hissy," she replied. "And who be you?"

The newcomers stepped back, one (apparently a valkyrie by trade) almost falling back into the pool. The great warrior, Danish by background, looked at her with strange eyes. "We've heard tales of you, but thought they were merely mother's prattle, destined to keep her children in order. We are the emissaries of the great and wondrous Stackman, sent to fulfill his wishes yet again, in yet another glorious and highly-piled adventure."

Missy looked over the group. "I've heard of you as well," she said. "The mighty troupe that can go where few others dare. You have my respect." She looked over the six adventurers - the Great Dane who first spoke to her; the Dane-Tee warlock wearing little but a T-shirt; Dane Fogelberg, the bard; Sous-Dane Mouvement, the zenmaster; Oxy Dane-t, the assassin who was never convicted; and Pry-Dane Defence, the mighty valkyrie. She hoped Stackman would forgive her instant nicknames for his adventurers; while the worlds often collided, one god usually left the others' charges behind.

They chatted of adventure, and Missy noted that the spinning obelisk thing had been repaired in her brief absence, but unfortunately, not well; as soon as the Great Dane set it aspin, it crumbled once again. She bid the adventurers adieu to return to Brimloch Roon for her forgotten errands.

As she appeared back in the central square, she slipped on evidence of a recent gathering. Scraps of paper that wrapped blackened turkey legs, hawked by local merchants, fluttered all over the square. Bits and pieces of gossip that she heard as she hurried along led her to believe that the god Stackman had recently appeared, and she had missed it. Cursing her luck, she turned into the Bushi Dojo.

Sensei Asami looked up from the workbench, where he was sharpening another wakizashi. Under his expert care, the blade could slice the skin off an orange without cutting into the flesh of a single wedge. "You've returned, and the Darkened One is no more," he said.

Missy growled, noticing a long, skinny piece of paper that had stuck to the bottom of her plate mail boots. "Correct, he is no more," she said.

"The guild appreciates your service and recognizes your skills," said the Sensei. "Here is but a token of our appreciation."

"Anything else you need done?" Missy asked.

Sensei Asami looked at her in the flickering light. "There is one more thing that I would ask of you, esteemed warrior of the night. A pirate, Bloodbeard by name, has been causing problems for us. Find him, and eliminate the problem. That should not be hard for one such as you."

Missy glanced up. Was he making light of her work as an assassin? True, her heart was not always in it, but she was still one of the best. No, he meant no disrespect. "I will take care of this," she said. "He shall be a problem no more."

Missy headed out of the Bushi Dojo and went over to the temple, where long lines of townspeople were asking for healing. One of the lesser clerics recognized her, and ushered her into the back rooms. Guild rank did have its privileges...

"Greetings, Malakai. What caused all the traffic?"

Malakai smiled wearily. "The god Stackman was he-"

"Yes, I know," said Missy. "I stepped in some of the leftovers in the square."

Malakai continued. "The god Stackman was here, and there was a great celebration at the death of the leprechaun."

At this, Missy looked around carefully. She thought that only Miruth knew about the leprechaun's demise.

"Great celebration," said Malakai, "and great drinking, and feasting, and dancing... but the drinking was too much for many of the townsfolk, and they have been coming in here non-stop, looking for something to take the throbbing pain away. We're almost out of ash twigs, and the willow bark is running low as well. Still, we have ample supplies of feverfew, so the townspeople should be safe.

"All right then. Here," said Missy, offering up the Relic of Isis. "I believe this is what you were looking for."

Malakai inhaled suddenly, scarce believing what was before his eyes. "The relic! You've found it!" He took it gently in his hands, and then clutched it to his breast. "At long last..." He rocked back and forth gently, swept up in emotion.

Missy cleared her throat. "That's nice. Anything else you need doing?"

Malakai looked up, his eyes moist. "I wouldn't ask this, but there is one more holy symbol that has been lost, the monk's ward. For those who follow the monk's path, it is a symbol of greatness. If you could find that, your place in the heavens will be assured."

"Okay," said Missy. "I'll look for it." She looked at Malakai again. "No... erm... reward... for the relic?"

Malakai tore his attention from the relic again. "There is little I could do," he said. "You are already well-revered within the temple. A small sum of gold is yours for the asking."

"Keep it," said Missy. "You have more need of it than I do."

Missy walked out of the temple, heading toward the wizard's guild, scarce believing that she had just turned down payment for a job. If word got back to the assassin's guild...

[ 11-24-2003, 12:26 PM: Message edited by: Wyvern ]

Chapter 33: Salve Sebastio

The late morning sun rose high in the wizard-created sky as Missy Hissy left the temple, turning west toward the wizard's guild. Checking her pockets for Strumbold's earplugs, Missy decided to stop in to let Sebastio know she had managed to open Anephas' shrine.

The bell jingled on the shop door as Missy walked through, the smell of burnt potion mixes assaulting her senses. Sebastio straightened as she approached. "Greetings. I sense there is news in you."

"I opened that shrine you were looking for," she said. "The ward resembled this staff I found, and the touch of the staff broke the seal."

"An amazing staff, then," said Sebastio. "You would do well to keep it with you. The thanks and appreciation of the guild go with you, noble one."

"Yeah, yeah," said Missy. "That and a couple of gold will get me a cup of nymph coffee... if they haven't raised the prices. Anything else you need done?"

Sebastio shook his head. "Silence... there is only silence..."

Missy's blood began to boil. She'd had enough of his long-windedness. Who knew you needed words to say nothing? "Are you sure there's nothing else? If you recall, I do have a rendezvous scheduled with a living tree shortly... with a seed or with your head. Makes no difference to me."

Sebastio seemed to shake his head mentally. "The living tree - of course! The seed - it should be done by now, if my calculations were correct."

"Can the calculations," snapped Missy. "Is the seed ready to go back?"

"Yes... and no," replied Sebastio with a grin. He bade her to come to the back of the guild store, and she followed him, suppressing an urge to rip out his devil-spawned tongue.

Brushing aside the heavy curtains, she was amazed at the collection of tubes, burners, tubing, and beakers that were set up. Last time she was here, there was naught but a small collection of potion bottles. "What's all this?" she asked.

"Many years ago," began Sebastio, "I studied the time of bloodshed, and the rise and fall of Oakenmir, the greatest of the living trees. He was betrayed by a goddess, and fought valiantly to defend his charge as keeper of the Mavin, falling only when his children were all slaughtered and he himself heavily wounded, burnt scarcely beyond recognition."

Missy put her hand in her tunic pocket, rolling Strumbold's beeswax cylinders between her fingers to warm them up. "He told me about that. What's the point?"

Sebastio continued. "The sacrifice he gave, the challenges he went through, have always been an inspiration to me. Selflessly giving one's present and future to defend one's oath... that has always been the hallmark of the champions, but seldom the guardians. I have often thought that were Oakenmir able to actually move, he would have been the greatest champion ever."

Missy slipped one of the warmed wax cylinders into her ear. "But he can't, so he didn't. So what?"

Sebastio's eyes caught fire. "I also said 'so what'. So what, for this noble creature who gave all. But then... then... I heard of something. A sorcerer in the south, near Valeia, was working on bringing things back from the dead."

Missy nodded. "Scabban. Yeah, he was... but not any more. He went a little too far with it."

Sebastio smiled sadly. "Poor Scabban," he said. "He learned a great truth, but applied it foolishly. Trying to bring dead humans to life again... that is something for the gods and the temples to do. But bringing other things to life... that is something else indeed."

Missy's hand stopped short of her other ear, the wax cylinder slightly expanding. "Bringing what to life?"

Sebastio smiled. "Scabban's mistake was in trying to bring it all back to life. Had he looked deeper, he would have seen that life requires life to exist. If life has left, there is little to keep the ghost here. But if there is even a brief flicker of life remaining, then... oh, then the flicker of life can be nurtured to a flame, to a roaring bonfire of the joyous celebration of existence, to -"

"Cork it, Sebastio," Missy said. "I know life is good. What are you trying to say?"

Sebastio's grin stretched across his face, and indeed, seemed to spread across another one yet. "With the seed of the living tree, and with the knowledge of Scabban's experiments, properly applied... I have been able to create a second seed, fertile and vibrant, full of life. Look there!"

Missy turned. There, in the corner of the room, was a good-sized pot, filled with soil and with shoots of green poking up from the rich earth. "What is that?"

Sebastio practically glowed. "That, my dear child, is the seed of the living tree... culled to maturity and fruition, and growing... oh, growing, yes, yes, yes... Oakenmir gave up his future to protect us, and nine hundred years later, I have found the secrets to give his future back to him. In another two weeks, these will be old enough to travel, to move back to the darkened glen where Oakenmir lies in despair. Then they will grow, yes, yes, grow and become strong, bringing comfort to the sacred tree that his sacrifice was not in vain, and that his race will continue, yes, yes, yes...

Missy eyed the wizard carefully. Last time someone had babbled like this, steel was stained with blood. Yet today, Sebastio seemed much calmer than Scabban had appeared. And there were indeed small plants growing, and she could see them moving, and waving. And unless her ears were playing tricks on her, some tiny voice was calling out for its mommy.

"You're serious, Sebastio? You've managed to split that seed without destroying it, and soon, there will be more seedling to take back to Oakenmir?"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes," cried Sebastio. "In my most glorious hour, this has happened. And you thought I'd never amount to anything, Mommy... you always liked him best. Well it didn't do him much good, did it, now? Yes, yes, yes!"

Missy backed out of the guild area slowly. She'd head back in a week or two, pick up the seedlings, and take them back to Oakenmir, to give him the good news. Still, she wondered... Scabban had gone too far with his experiments and paid the ultimate price. Perhaps Sebastio was not quite the same, but what would be the ultimate price for his experiments?

Settling her gear, she left the mossy gates of Brimloch Roon once again, and prepared to teleport to Kerah's undersea temple.

[ 11-24-2003, 11:36 PM: Message edited by: Bungleau ]

Chapter 34: Rebirth
Once again, Missy Hissy crossed dimensions and ended up in Kerah's underwater temple. This time, with her pack empty and no further minor tasks to complete, Kerah's words rang in her ears. "Anephas was a champion, but a magical champion. He knew little of battle and war, and the best battle he could plan was a tragic draw. You know more of arms and militia than most, and with your help, there can be no other result."

Missy took a breath of air and descended into the depths, to ride the giant column back into the shrine. As it reached bottom, she jumped off, water dripping from her armor and leaving puddles on the floor. She took the strange obelisk with her and continued exploring, discovering strange markings on the floor throughout the shrine and finally finding a beam of light coming from the ceiling. She placed the obelisk on a stand, and it reflected light down the near corridor until it hit a wall.

Missy stared at it for a moment until she realized that the light was passing over some of the strange floor markings. Nearby was another obelisk with markings similar to those on the floor, and when Missy moved the obelisk onto the marks, it too changed the light beam's path.

Walking along, moving obelisks onto squares, Missy followed the light path through the temple until it came to a giant stone slab, an altar of sorts. No more markings were present on the floor, and Missy soon realized that she needed to find something to put on the altar. Wheeling around, Missy began searching for something to put on the altar.

Among the dusty rooms of the shrine, she soon found a small altar apparently dedicated to the worship of the simple baboon. Placing the small baboon statue she had found earlier on the altar, she heard a grinding noise behind her. The stairway, which she had noticed before and failed to jump across, looked different, and she was able to cross it now. Ascending, she found three treasure chests, and inside one of them, a small urn with ashes in it and the mark of the mavin on it.

Breaking into a run, she headed back to the altar room and placed the urn expectantly on the altar to see... nothing. It just sat there like it had in the treasure chest, and as frustration rose in her throat, she noticed that the beam of light was nowhere to be seen. Backtracking, she discovered that she had accidentally knocked several of the obelisks off the floor markings. She began moving them back, paying careful attention to the obelisks behind her, and as she moved the last one in place, she heard a great commotion.

Turning, she saw that the urn of ashes had heated up from the light until it exploded, and the ashes swirled into a wraithlike form, becoming more solid until it became human, or something like it. She recognized the tall body, the golden face, the wispy beard... it was Anephas, just like she had seen in the paintings throughout the shrine.

"I am back... but who has brought me back?" asked Anephas, gazing around in wonder.

"I did, Anephas, with Kerah's help," responded Missy.

"Kerah?" he spoke. "She is still here... there is still hope. But if I am here, Cet is also still here. I cannot leave, lest he know it. You must open the pathway for me to do battle with him."

"About the pathway..." Missy said. "The teleporter's apparently broken in the temple under the water, so -"

"It matters not," interrupted Anephas. "I sense the black pearl on you... go to Cet's pyramid, and I shall meet you there."

"Black pearl? You mean this?" Missy held up the black pearl ring.

Anephas gave a start as he looked at it. "She - no, it couldn't be. She would never - Go. Leave here while I think about what this means. Such treachery after all these years... it could not be. I will open the door to let you access the Lost Sea."

Anephas remained still with his thoughts as Missy headed toward the ruined room she had traversed earlier. She found the pathway open now, and climbed up toward the surface. Treachery? From who?

Chapter 35: Of Kings and Crowns

Missy Hissy pulled the lever hidden behind the fallen statue and slowly rode the grinding elevator to the surface. The sun shone bright after the dim light of the shrine, and she paused for several moments to let her eyes adjust. There was sand, just as there was at the entrance to the shrine, but more vegetation, and she could smell the salty tang of a nearby sea in the air.

She released her daggers from their sheaths to make sure they were working smoothly, then resheathed them and headed toward the smell of the ocean. The thud of rope on boxes and the tang of steel hitting steel reached her ears, and as she stepped into a clearing, a party of seafaring travelers greeted her. After a brief discussion, during which they wanted more than she was willing to give, steel flashed in the sunlight, and in a few moments, with balls of fire and ice raining down from the sky, she was surrounded by disintegrating corpses. Interesting... Jathil's mind tricks seemed to be so effective now that she could cast a firestorm on herself, and suffer no ill effects.

She realized that the giant body of water in front of her must be the fabled Lost Sea, unviewed by sentient eyes for centuries. How the pirate group had arrived there surprised her... perhaps they had surfed through the trees, as rumors abounded, or perhaps a miscast Vanish had done them in. In either case, those who operated outside the law were often found in strange places, and they were no longer a concern for her.

Wading into the shallow salt water, she stretched out her arms and began swimming. Following the shore, looking for items of interest, she soon found an island with a small opening. She was confronted by an old samurai, whom she promptly slew, and retrieved an ancient sword from a giant boulder. Thoughts of an old legend of a boy who became king by withdrawing a sword from a similar stone crossed her mind, causing her to laugh. What would she want with kingship? To be beholden to all those below her, to be in fear for her life, lest she upset one of them? To sleep every night, not knowing if she would wake up in the morning? To eat a meal, not knowing for sure if the food was good or poisoned until it was too late? That was not the life for her, to be sure.

Heading west, she found a clearing with the remains of a wooden cart. This must be the marker for Talrik's treasure, she thought. Inventorying the two chests that had fallen from the cart, she found little of interest. Pulling out the map Talrik had given her, she studied the words. Nineteen measures due south... but there was naught but the wild sea in front of her! Stepping back into the water, she swam out, diving periodically to check the bottom of the sea.

At long last, she saw something in the depths, and diving deeply, defending herself from several crabs, she found more treasure chests. These must have fallen from the ship, while those on shore had been salvaged.

As she opened the last treasure chest and scoured its contents, she looked around before heading to the surface, and nearly lost her air. Before her, in the depths of the sea, was the remains of a lost city... it must be the fabled city of Collaseum!

Chapter 36: Treasure Beneath the Sea
Switching her helmet and bow for the underwater helm and breather she'd purchased from Buckley at the shipyard, Missy took a deep breath and dove back down to the chests. Searching around, she found a doorway into the underwater city, but after a few moments' search, she was blocked. Taking another breath from a bubble of air in the ceiling, she dove down and swam back out. After a few more minutes, she found another entrance, and this one led to something more interesting.

Missy swam in the eerily glowing water, illuminated by some deep-sea plankton or other glowing plant life. As she swam, she saw where time had taken its toll, with pillars crashing down and fish swimming in and out of holes in the walls and ceilings. She saw another painting with the flying mermaid, but the head was gone, algae growing on the edges of the hole in the wall where it used to be. Heading through one small room, she surprised a beautiful woman relaxing in the water.

"Oh, no, go away!" she shrieked, and tried to swim away.

"Wait, wait," called Missy. "I mean you no harm. Why do you swim away?"

The mermaid turned around. "All air breather hate water breathers. That's how it has always been. You're an air breather. So you must hate me, even though I think I'm nice. And now I'll get in trouble for talking to you..."

Missy smiled as best she could with the strange-looking water helmet on. "It's true that I'm an air breather, but that doesn't mean I hate water breathers. Even sharks... I don't hate them. If they went their own way, I'd leave them alone. If they bother me, then I defend myself, but I don't hate them."

The mermaid looked curious. "You don't?"

Missy shook her head. "No, I don't. And I've only met you...why would I hate you?"

The mermaid looked perplexed. "I don't know why you would hate me. Perhaps what I've been told all these years isn't so true."

"Perhaps not." Missy extended a hand in friendship. "My name's Missy. What's yours?"

"Sarellia," said the mermaid, touching Missy's hand gingerly, as if she expected it to bite her. "What are you doing down here?"

"Exploring," said Missy. "And looking for some tablets."

"Tablets?" said Sarellita. "The Oracle knows about tablets. You can find her through here," she pointed, opening a large grate. "And here. This stone may help you. You seem nice for an air-breather, not like they told us in the stories growing up."

"Stories, huh?" said Missy. "Those stories about air-breathers... did they include stories about winged mermaids?"

Sarellia shook her head. "Everyone knows the stories of the goddess aren't real. That air and water could exist together... preposterous, they used to tell us. They said that the winged mermaid was the most evil person in the land, that she killed her lover because it suited her. They never told us what a lover was, but they told us that if we didn't behave, we'd be left for her to catch and do with us what she pleased. And it never pleased her to do nice things, either."

"Did this goddess have a name?" asked Missy. "What else can you tell me about her?"

"She never had a name, just the goddess. It was because of her that the city went into the sea. She forced air and water together to beat earth, but it didn't work. Then she added fire, and she beat earth, but air joined with fire and water ran away. That's what they always told us."

Missy could see that the mermaid would be of little more help, so she took the glowing stone and headed down the opened passageway, stopping to take a breath at a pocket of ancient air. It was stale, tasting of years gone by. She wondered who might have breathed there before; she wondered if someone may have passed gas there, that floated and remained, stored for centuries until one such as her needed a breath.

Continuing on, she found her way to a library of sorts, where she met the Oracle, who told her of the need to collect all the stone tablets to fulfill the prophecy and battle Cet. Missy found the first tablet in the library, and swimming around, found more air pockets and a second glowstone. She soon found the second tablet, and en route to a third glowstone, found the largest crab she had ever seen. Truly the size of a room, the crab was worthy of the title inscribed in the golden tile near her... the mother of all crabs. Perhaps the person-sized crabs she had been battling in the depths of the Lost Sea were but this crab's offspring... even so, the mother was not happy, and Missy fought a furious battle, being wounded near unto death before finally slaying the mother crab. She paused for a moment, her hand upon the pendant passed down from her mother, and thought of her, wondering what she would be doing now, if she were alive, and what she would think of her daughter's activities. Shaking her head, Missy buried the thought in the back of her mind with the dagger blow that she was certain had ended her father's life, and continued down the passageways.

She found a blank wall with a slot near it, and placing one of the glowstones in the slot, saw the wall move, opening up a rotating room. Entering in, she continued to search the underwater city, soon finding a spy serving Cet, whom she quickly dispatched to another life. She finally found her way to the third glowstone, and then made her way to another room where she could sense treasure, but couldn't see it. Looking around, she found slots that appeared to match the glowstones, and with glowstones inserted and levers flipped, soon opened a hidden room with the third tablet. Collecting all the tablets, she retrieved the glowstones and headed back, to head up to the surface and find Cet's final resting place.

Chapter 37: Of Lizards and Locks

As she broke the surface of the Lost Sea, Missy Hissy felt tired. All the fighting and the killing... and now she floated in a deep sea, far from any civilization and any other creature. Except the occasional sea shark, that is... and she dispatched the two that swum up to investigate her with little more than a pair of dagger swipes. Kill often enough, and you know where to strike to kill quickly. Part of the assassin’s trade that she had learned, though its learning weighed heavily on her.

Calling on the powers of the moon, Missy cast a spell to call her back to the civilized confines of Brimloch Roon. She thought of the group of adventurers she had seen in Collasium... followers of Stackman, she wondered if they had also spoken to Kerah, as had she, the now-dead Kol, and probably many others. How could so many people be the chosen ones, the saviors of the Gael Serran, the protectors against Cet Ude D’ua Kahn and his evildoings? It was too much for her mind to fathom, so she pushed it to the back and stopped in to see if Miruth had regained his sanity.

He hadn’t.

Missy cleared her pack of the things she’d collected. Funny... her tastes were changing. Why, it was but a week or two ago, and she would have collected every sword and staff, saved every spear and shield. Now, she’d as soon be rid of them as anything else, leaving them behind as scraps for another.

Heading out from Brimloch Roon, she teleported back to the area of Collasium and swam north. As she approached dry land, she suddenly sensed a jungle lily. One, perhaps more... they always liked to travel in packs. Knowing that the overgrown salads were deadly, even to one as skilled as her, Missy set out at breakneck speed to try to find it. Kill or be killed, yes, but always eat your salad before you become dinner...

Missy ran in circles, battling more of the wild longtooths (and leaving their hides on the desert ground), but could not find a trace of the lilies. She did come across a many headed beast... this must be the Hydra that Lord Brinsly had asked her about. Several firestorms later, the hydra was no more.

Walking past where the hydra’s body had decayed into mush, she found herself at the edge of a vast desert. Knowing the dangers of getting lost in the desert, she set her eyes on a distant point and marched forward, keeping always to a straight line. Strange and deadly creatures approached her, from vicious sand crawlers to two-headed Dumdee Oleohs.

At one point, she thought she saw a group of adventurers in the distance, but it turned out to be her eyes playing tricks on her... although she did appear to see footprints in the blowing sand. And there seemed to be a weeping or sobbing sound coming from somewhere near by, but she couldn’t find exactly where it was coming from.

She found an opening in the woods on the eastern edge of the desert, and dispatching another band of desert raptors, she soon found a guarded chest with the most complex lock she had ever seen. Even though she had learned from the best, it still appeared to be beyond her skill to pick easily. Fortunately, she had been saving a level-four lockpick that she’d found in Skull Castle for just such an occasion, and with a flourish, she opened the chest and removed a green-stoned amulet. A quick examination revealed that it was inscribed with the name of the first monk of the temple, Morris the Meek. He had tried to go by Morris the Magnificent, according to legend, but he never lived up to his billing. Still, he uncovered quite a bit of knowledge about the workings of the body, and monks to this day owed him a debt.

Pocketing the stone, she created another portal and teleported back to Brimloch Roon, to regroup for the adventures in front of her and to take the stone back to the temple.

(minor edit done by Wyv)

[ 01-01-2004, 03:18 PM: Message edited by: Wyvern ]

Chapter 38: That's the Stack, Jack

Having fulfilled the final quest for Malakai at the temple, Missy Hissy returned to the desert by magical means, where desert raptors, among others, tried to have her for dinner. ‘Twas the last meal they ever tried to eat... and she left their eggs to rot on the desert sand. Pity... at one time, she would have treasured the piece of the future they contained, but today... there was only death. Bleak, grey, despairing death. If not someone else’s, then hers... so she passed death along to all who bothered her. And sometimes merely breathing was enough to be a bother.

Wandering around the desert more, she encountered more Dumdee Oleohs. Sturdy creatures... it took a lot of effort to bring one down, and if enough of them were to surround her... well, perhaps it would be her turn to partake of death. But not today, at least, not yet.

As Missy continued her passage through the desert, she spied something a distance away. Upon approaching, it soon became a giant pyramid, and the sounds she had heard the other day were now more evident. The mythical Stackman was at the base of the pyramid, gently caressing one of the sand-worn stones that made up the bottom ring of the stack. He looked up as she approached.

“Another of you, to test the Stack?” he asked.

“Another? You mean, there are more?” she replied.

“Yes, more,” he responded, looking off into the deepening dusk for a moment. “A group I have been shepherding, though they need little of my assistance. They have already entered the Holy Stack, and it is here that I fear I must leave them. But you... are you alone? Have you had assistance?”

Missy’s heart rose into her throat. “I... am... alone. In many ways. There is no other with me, and there is no other like me. I do not know why I journey on, but I do. I just pray there is something of an answer - no, wait. I do know why I journey. I journey to find the coward who killed my father.”

“Coward?” Stackman asked. “But --”

“A coward,” declared Missy. “One can kill with honor, or without it. If she were not a coward, she would have killed him herself, taken the chance in direct combat. But no, she paid for his death in trinkets... and mine, too.”

“But you’re not dead, at least as far as I can tell,” continued Stackman. “Or if you are, this is the most pleasant conversation I can recall having with a corpse.”

“On the outside I’m alive,” said Missy, gritting her teeth. “Inside... inside, I’m not quite sure. I used to be alive, but I don’t think I am any more. Something is missing.”

Stackman nodded. As one of the gods, he often saw things beyond mortal ken. “I suggest you move forward, into the Stack. I believe you will find the answers to many things within the Holy Stack, and perhaps many more questions as well.” He gestured towards a central opening.

Missy nodded and bade farewell. It wasn’t often you talked to a god, and you never wanted to make that conversation your last one. Gathering her equipment one last time, she trudged toward the opening.

Chapter 39: To Boldly Go... or Not

As Missy Hissy approached, she noticed that some of the walls seemed to shimmer and fade. Stepping up, she saw three holes, each similar in shape to the stone tablets she had picked up under the sea in Collaseum. Curious... who would have brought the tablets to that underwater city? As she fitted the tablets into the holes, they grew strangely warm, and stuck in place. Fitting the last, she looked around and saw a lever, just like she had seen so long ago in the crypt. Pulling it, she watched the giant doors grind closed, and another pair open.

Missy’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she followed the narrow tunnel until it opened to a large room, where half a dozen mummies suddenly appeared. Dispatching them to dust and bone with dual daggers, she soon saw another doorway. Following it, she came upon another room with chests and within those chests, a number of empty flasks. Grabbing a couple, she moved onward to another battle, this time with giant pit fiends. Steel again showed the way, and to the far west, she found a pool of strange water. She filled two of the flasks in case they proved useful, or simply to sell to the next blithering city fool whose idea of adventure was going out to drink without permission.

She found a hidden room with the final Tome of Creation; sticking it in her pack, she made the note to stop and visit Sensei Asami when she got back to Brimloch Roon. They might be of interest to him.

She found more creatures, all of whom fell to her blade, and more chests, but little of interest. She passed a triple-trapped floor, her reflexes saving her from falling through all three traps. She passed it by walking across a narrow beam, dispatching the pit fiend who was waiting on the other side.

Along the way, she kept seeing signs of fresh movement in the pyramid, but not from anything specific. Dust was cleared away here; cobwebs brushed aside there; an occasional bloodstain spattered the floor, as if someone else had recently done battle. Still, there were plenty of beasties to taste her steel.

She made her way past a sliding wall, again regretting that she had not set a portal at the entry of the pyramid. One of these days, she’d remember to do that... She passed a small library, in which she found a small treasure hidden away, but nothing that truly interested her. Then a low moan whispered through the air, and unsheathing her wizard blade, she crept forward.

She found the ancient lich G’Ezzered Ra, his chest ripped open with his ribs sticking out, a gaping maw where his heart should have been. Or whatever cold, pitiless organ fueled his black magic-powered body.

“Help me,” he wheezed.

“Why?” asked Missy, putting away her blade. It was clear that he was no danger to her.

“Lord Cet tricked me to eternal life,”rasped the lich, “and now he has tricked me to eternal death. He needed the spot of black fire in the relic, and he has rekindled the black fire here. But to * cough * show his displeasure with me, he has ripped my heart out and hidden it here. I cannot die while it beats, and I cannot live, now that I see how he used my own greed against me.”

Missy looked him up and down. “So? Looks like you’re getting some of what’s coming to you.”

G’Ezzered Ra spat on the ground. “Do you think I’m his only pawn? Pfaugh! Others, including you, are his playthings. Would you stop him in his game? Or shall that contract be fulfilled?”

Missy whirled close, her wizard blade out and a hair’s breadth from the lich’s throat. “What do you know about the contract?”

“Little, except that it was written some hundred years ago. I wrote it, at her request. As usual, the victims didn’t exist yet. That came later, when the contract was given. It was the sixth contract she’d had me write... the other five were fulfilled. You,” he said, as he raised his ghastly head, “you were different. You survived. That gave them hope.”

“Hope for what? And who is ‘them’?” Missy was getting angry. So close to the truth, yet so far away.

“I will tell you the rest when you bring my heart back and throw it in the black fire over there. Part of his cruelty... chaining me here, in sight of the only thing that can release me.”

“You tell me now, or-“

“Or what?” sneered the lich. “Killing me would be a blessing, if you could do it. And once I tell you, you may leave, leaving me here for eternity. No, bring my heart back and put me out of my misery, and I will tell you. No need to hurry... I have plenty of time! Ah-hah-hah-hah-hah....”

Missy left the cackling lich and retreated to Brimloch Roon for a brief respite. Somehow, she felt the next bit of her life would be very interesting.

Chapter 40: Outer Peace, Inner Fury

While in Brimloch Roon, Sensei Asami stood in amazement at Missy’s collection of the four Tomes of Creation, and offered to train her as a Zenmaster. While she’d been an assassin far longer than many who have plied that trade, Missy felt ready for a change, for a different purpose in life, and accepted. After the usual few minutes of practice, she was soon fairly skilled, and returned to the pyramid.

She soon passed the lich again, who merely raised his head and cackled. A part of her felt no pity for him, but her recent passage as a zenmaster helped her realize that life truly is a circle, and all that one does comes back... again and again. Ending the lich’s misery would change her own karma for the better, or at least that’s what she thought. Ultimately, time would tell.

She swept past, a woman on a mission: finding the heart and finding out the more about this winged mermaid who plotted to have her killed before she was born.

Stone fiends, ice fiends, and tiny fire fiends blocked her way more than once, but they fell to a stroke or two of her blade. The treasure they dropped was worth nothing to her, and she left it behind. She soon rounded a corner, beset by a demon lord who sought to curry favor with Cet... in short order, he was currying naught but a place to rest up before his next life began.

Heading again, she soon found herself at an inner pyramid... a stack within the stack. Gazing up, she saw that it reached deep within the heights of the pyramid... if she saw Stackman again, she’d mention this wonder of wonders. She decided that the best way to proceed would be to head to the top of this inner pyramid, and then work her way down. Her ears detected the sound of stone rubbing against stone, a grinding sound that seemed to resonate through the chamber.

Dispatching a pair of pit fiends and a mummy who had wandered across her path, she began wandering around in search of the source of the noise. She soon narrowed the grinding down to a small area, but elevated higher than she could reach. She realized with a smirk that the fabled Stackman would have saved some of his adversaries, to be stacked and raised as a primitive ladder, but she had no such patience... and an appetite for the unusual.

She circled around, eliminating fiend after fiend and climbing on narrow ledge after fiery lava bowl, until she found herself across from the area where the grinding was coming from. Reciting the mystical mantra of “Save early, save often” yet again, she coiled and leapt out towards the wall on the other side, landing with cat-like agility.

Searching around, she saw nothing but a wall of stone. The noise seemed to come from there. Approaching, she saw that it was in fact moving... when it arrived, she stepped forward gingerly and rode it to the top, where she saw a platform and stepped off. As the giant wall dropped back down, she reflected for a moment... it was similar to the giant elevator she’d seen in the area underneath Anephas’ Shrine. Perhaps the same architect was responsible for both of them.

Another wall slid down, and she realized that it was a double-elevator. Jumping forward, she missed her opportunity as the second lift went upwards. Waiting a couple of minutes, it returned and she hopped on.

As the elevator reached its zenith, she stepped forward and saw a raised platform with a small dish on it. Just the place to store a heart, she thought, and stepped forward...

... to a blinding flash of magic and swirling steel! Cursing her own foolishness at being so caught up in her goal that she forgot the world around her, Missy rolled forward and to the side in one of the new moves she’d learned from Sensei Asami. The magic just bounced off harmlessly, thanks in part to Jathil’s Gezurite mind tricks and the protective enchantments she’d added to her jewelry. As she prepared to lay waste to the enemy that attacked her, a voice bellowed out from the shadows.

“HOLD!”

Missy stopped for a moment, calling on the assassin’s tricks of hiding in the shadows while her eyes adjusted. She saw the Great Dane in front of her, the giant barbarian who was the lead meat shield for Stackman’s group of adventurers. Swiveling her head, she saw the rest of the Danes.

“We meet again,” said Oxy Dane-t, the assassin. His hands were never clearly in sight, but she recognized their placement near sources of hidden weapons.

“So we do,” said Missy, standing up and sheathing her blade quite visibly. No sense in alarming the whole party; she meant them no harm. “I am looking for something; perhaps you’ve seen it?”

“What might that be?” asked Dane Fogelberg, the bard. “We’ve seen many glories and wonders... perhaps I can regale you with their tales.”

“I’m looking for a heart,” said Missy, eyes beaconing from side to side to cover the entire party. She hadn’t missed the assassin’s attempt to slide behind her. “A lich’s heart, to be specific.”

At this, the Danes seemed to draw protectively together. “What you want with heart?” asked the Great Dane.

Missy looked up at him. “It’s simple, really. There’s a lich who needs to tell me something, but he won’t unless he’s about to die. And I need him to die, so I can punish she who killed my father.”

Pry-Dane Defense, the valkyrie, strode forward. “We have found this heart. But easing the pain of a soul is a valkyrie’s mission. I don’t know that we can let you just have it.”

Missy eyed the valkyrie, then stepped sideways. Bloody assassin was still trying to sneak behind her, and she definitely didn’t want him there right now. “I would not take your duty lightly, nor would I keep you from it. But I need information from that lich. And he will not give it up until he is about to die. And I’d rather that he be the only one to die in this discussion.” Her eyes flicked knowingly toward the assassin.

The valkyrie nodded. “You have a great need, I can see. As long as the lich is put out of his misery, my vows will be maintained.” She reached into her pack and pulled a slimy bag, dripping with black ichor. “Here is the lich’s heart. End his misery, and find your answers.”

Missy accepted the heart. “I will end his misery and keep your vows. After that... my father’s death will be repaid.” She headed toward the elevator, and Stackman’s party followed behind.

[ 01-02-2004, 12:33 AM: Message edited by: Bungleau ]