[Wyvern]

Hark and listen, dear players, and I will tell you a tale. Though I am not as eloquent as once I was, still it may amuse and help to pass a dark night such as this.

“Oh, this is just the finest mess you’ve gotten us into, Ratter!”

Why do I bother? As if the great and wonderful Rasil Bathbone would ever listen to my advice or me. It all started so simply. It always does with Ratter. A short trip to the Finadain fairs to enter the fencing contest and collect a prize. How often have we done just that? Traveled from fair to fair, engaging whatever wager might bring some profit. I cannot number them anymore.
Finadain, a fair and rich port town, is well known for its hospitality and generous prizes. We could have taken a ship across the Gru’el Furths but Ratter was intent upon arriving upon his ebony steed.
“The first impression is of greatest importance, Eldrad! With just my appearance lesser contestants will shy away and I won’t have to be bothered with such triflings.”
So we took the long route skirting the Gru’eldain Furth to the South and chanced upon the estates of Laird Corwin just as the sun nodded slowly behind the Bersault Forests in the West. Tired from the long days ride and not wishing to camp in the woods when there were lavish comforts to be had, Ratter directed us up the long tree lined avenue towards Sartglen, ancestral home of Clan Corwin for well now five hundred years.
An imposing edifice rose before us in the dwindling light. Crenellations snarling like angry teeth loomed overhead.
The gate was closed and Ratter tossed me a puzzled look that any obstacle could present itself in his chosen path.
“Knock upon the gate, Eld. Let it be know that I, Rasil Bathbone son of Brillig Bathbone 22nd Duke of Ma’rishdoon, have come to pay my respects to the Clan of Corwin.”
“Shall I also let it be known that your father has disowned you for the third time, has posted notices that he will not honor your debts and has turned gray with worry over you?”
“Stay your tongue, Eld! You know the sad particulars of my present situation but we need not broadcast it to the world at large. And especially not when a good meal, better wine and a warm bed can be had but for the exchange of some pleasantries noble to noble. Announce me fairly and we both will dine well tonight!”
Truth be told a good meal did much to persuade me to his design. Duly I knocked upon the door and announced Rasil’s arrival with all the pomp I could muster. Ratter looked decidedly disappointed by my efforts. He thinks that his silver tongue should have by now infected my own but hungry or not, I’ve no stomach for that.
We were cautiously welcomed which was to us as perplexing as had been the sight of the closed gate. What changes were afoot that lands and homes once open and welcoming shuttered themselves behind iron and wood. Laird Corwin greeted us fairly enough when we were ushered into the main hall. Though far from close to the Clan Bathbone he was familiar enough with the countenance to recognize a true son of that line. An invitation to dine and stay the night was shortcoming.
Rasil fairly purred with pleasure having achieved thus much but the number of tall, strong guards to be seen troubled me. It was with much unease that I followed Ratter to the table. Around the table sat the Laird and Lady Corwin, their sons, Lothar and Manfred and their daughter, Tisiphone, their raven haired, green eyed, pristinely beautiful daughter, Tisiphone. While my gut silently tied itself into knots, Ratter’s silver tongued compliments and good looks began charming and beguiling fair Tisiphone.
Some general, lighthearted conversation was exchanged across the fish course but by the time the beef was served the topics had turned to bloody rumors from the West. Tales of secret cults worshipping snakes were mixed with stories of haunted castles, and the dead rising from their graves.
“By Kerah, do you put faith in such reports?” queried Ratter.
A slender and delicate foot searching for Ratter’s calf (no doubt) made brief contact with my own. I downed my goblet of wine in one swallow. Please, please just let me pass out somewhere until all this is past.
Manfred and Lothar reported all that they had heard in recent weeks and not a bit of it was news to cheer any heart. Rasil seemed to nod at just the right moments so all save Tisiphone and myself believed he paid close attention to the news. I felt decidedly ill.
When all the evil news had been exchanged we were at last led to our beds and I was more than ready to close my eyes upon this day. I began to strip off my shirt and pour water into the washbowl when Ratter stayed my hand.
“The night is still young, friend, and I have need of you yet.”
“Oh no! Ratter, no! Please, NO! Not tonight! We’ve just had a good meal and we’ve nice beds and if we leave early in the morning we should be able to make Finadain by eve tomorrow. Please, Ratter!”
Ratter smiled, that wicked, smug smile which was as much to say: “I tolerate your pleas, Eldrad, but I will have my way. You know it and I know it.”
Listening at the door, he waited until all was silent. Peering into the hallway and spying no persons he slipped into the shadows beaconing me to follow. For fifteen years I have been his companion and still to this very day do not understand his natural inner sense of direction. He has instincts that any thief or rogue would give an arm to have and gladly so and I would be as willing to loose the same limb to have him lose this self same talent. Sigh.
Down the corridor we slipped from shadow to shadow until, upon turning the corner, we faced a hallway with four doors. Ratter brushed his beard thoughtful for but a moment and crept to the second door upon the left hand side. A gentle tap no louder than the gnawing of a mouse upon a crumb and the door was opened. Ratter slid into Tisiphone’s room with a whispered warning to me, “Keep watch!”
My heart beat so loud within my chest I swore it would awaken every soul within a mile. I know not how much time passed. Every second seemed unto months as I fretted in that hall. Though warm, my bones felt chilled to their marrow. A gentle laughter escaped from under Tisiphone’s door and I turned towards it in the utterly vain hope that Ratter might even now be preparing to leave when a strong hand clamped upon my shoulder and forcefully turned me around.
Lothar stared down at me with black, suspicious eyes. Manfred, with one hand upon his dagger, stood beside him.
“Evening, young lairds. I’ve lost my way, I have. I was in need to relieve myself and I’ve totally um lost my way.”
My voice rose as my excuses stumbled out. What help that might be other than to silence Ratter and Tisiphone I did not know. More laughter escaped under the door and I was pushed aside. Tisiphone’s door was thrown open to reveal, well let me just say that the scene that came to view is not one in which I would ever want to be a major participant what with two strong and rather angry brothers in the viewing there of. Fists were soon flying while lovely Tisiphone sang protest. The Laird and Lady Corwin were not long to join the gathering and it was more than I could do to keep straight who had the better of whom. Tisiphone at last brought the debacle to a close by placing herself squarely between Ratter and her brothers and announcing that she was in love with Rasil and intended to be married!
Even Ratter looked surprised which somehow warmed my heart.
Lothar was bleeding from the nose and Manfred left eye looked to be swelling smartly. Ratter showed some bruises on his, ahem, exposed ribcage. The Laird and Lady demanded, and rightfully so, to know the meaning of all this.
“I’ll tell you the meaning of this,” declared Ratter and my head began pounding.
“I was not within the presence of your daughter for more than five minutes before I knew that my heart had at last finally found it’s match, my soul it’s echo, my life it’s meaning! Forthwith I came unto fair Tisiphone to confess my admiration, my purpose when in the midst of my sincerest declarations your sons did burst upon this tender scene and seize me by my hair and did accuse me of foul purposes and motivations which might besmirch the honor and reputation of your daughter. What fault can you find in as true a heart as mine for wishing to spend but a few moments alone with the fair maid who has stolen my heart before I set out upon that quest to rid our fair world of the growing danger which only this very night we discussed at such great lengths while at dinner. Knowing that the dangers ahead of me may well mean that I will never be able to return and claim that for which my heart longs. Knowing that evil walks abroad and if not good warriors such as ourselves rise to meet its challenge then all fair maidens face a future as grim as the as the grave itself. That in facing a future ..”
“You mean to end the threat of evil rising against our world, do you?” Laird Corwin interrupted.
“Verily! What noble heart could not rise up against such evil to protect those they love, the life they hold dear?”
”You said you were off to Finadain, to the fair.”
“Well, yes so I said but that was only because I did not know well how things stood here, what ears might already be listening. These are times that call for caution.”
“So where are you bound if not to Finadain?”
“Why to, er, Bersault for all reports say that this growing evil has touched there but no farther East. Bersault is my destination and from there where ever this noble quest doth take me.”
“Good,” exclaimed Laird Corwin, “Lothar and Manfred will accompany you for it is as you say all good warriors must rise against this threat. You will leave in the morning.”
I would have laughed if the thought of our future had not make my knees almost slip from beneath me.

“Oh, this is just the finest mess you’ve gotten us into, Ratter!”

We set off for Bersault the following morning. Ratter, Lothar, Manfred and myself while Tisiphone waved a tearful farewell. Manfred’s eye had swollen shut and I offered to heal it but he would have nothing from me. Lothar glare would have sliced through another but Ratter was oblivious. A new day, a new adventure! Perhaps not the adventure he had planned for himself but that mattered not, not to him.
I sulked on my horse feeling for all the world like the morning after a three day drunk without having had the actual pleasure thereof. I determined that I should write a letter to my family and make what arrangements I could to have it delivered in whatever town we next entered. So absorbed was I in thoughts of impending doom that I did not note at first the number of travelers heading eastward. Some passed calling out warning for us to turn around. Turning my head to hear more of what they said I noted a small horse and rider a fair distance behind us, traveling in the same direction as us. I screwed up my eyes, which are not so good at a distance. Something nagged at me. Something about that rider seemed familiar but I shook it off as imagination and returned to brooding over the perils that lay to the West.
Evening brought us to a Finadain undecorated with bright lanterns and the laughter so dearly associated with festivals. Windows were shuttered and streets fairly empty of peoples.
We found rooms at the Hidden Pond and betook of the stew for our meal. Ratter made several attempts to engage others conversation but the only willing candidate was the serving wench who bent unusually low over Ratter as she served him his stew. Ratter was just about to embrace the lass around the waist when he received a very sharp kick from Lothar and Manfred made a pointed comment about Tisiphone. Ratter smiled weakly and I downed my ale. Rumors of some great fire crept about the room in guarded whispers as though speaking them aloud might cause the walls around us to ignite. Everyone and everything seemed unsettled.
The following day we woke to find the sky dripping and the earth swirled in heavy mists. We called for our horses at the stable and a young, dirty lad hovered nearby watching our every move. Something about that lad bothered me. Was it those piercing green eyes? No, no, nothing more than my own foolishness. I was just upset, nervous, scared. Manfred and Lothar readied their gear and checked their horses. The dirty lad strolled by and stumbled on a rock, bumping into Ratter. Apologizing he began to move off when Ratter caught him by the collar.
“Not half bad, boy, but you’ll have to do better than that. Hand back my money pouch now.”
The lad frowned but handed back the pouch.
“Not going to turn me in, are you?”
“Not this time, boy, but you better not try to hit on me again. Run along now.”
The lad began to go when Ratter called him back.
“Boy, is this yours?” Ratter held up a rusty dagger.
The lad patted his waistcoat, scowled and reached for his dagger. Ratter handed it to him as though it were the most precious item in the world.
“And these?” Ratter dangled some lock picks before those darkening green eyes. The lad grabs his tools and began to back away when Ratter flashed a tattered and empty money pouch.
“This too, eh?” A look of pure consternation washed over the lad’s dirty face. If frustration had one true visage that lad had it.
Ratter took a coin from his own money pouch and placed it in the boy’s before tossing it back to him. “Get a new profession, boy. You’re on the wrong path now.”
Lothar and Manfred found this exchange rather amusing. Truth be told, I sympathized with the youth’s humiliation. It was so easy to feel incompetent around Ratter.
The horses readied, we headed west, leaving Finadain wrapped in fog.
Around noon the sky ceased crying and the sun burnt holes in the thick midst forming an odd patchwork before us. By afternoon much of the mists had disappeared. As we neared Bersault the woods became unnaturally quiet. We weren’t prepared for what we saw when we rounded the corner and caught our first glimpse of the small town.
Ruins! The whole town had been burnt near to the ground. Even stone walls crumbled from the destruction of the fire. We dismounted and walked slowly into the bitter remains of pleasant Bersault. The horses became agitated and whinnied in discomfort.
Suddenly over a half collapsed wall appeared a gray apparition intent on destroying us where we stood.
“NO MORE! NO MORE!! I WILL NOT LET YOU KILL ANYTHING ELSE!”
Before we had scare time to comprehend her cries she raised her arms and a ball of red light came hurling towards us hitting Lothar full in the chest and knocking him off his feet.
“NO MORE!! IT STOPS HERE!! IT MUST STOP HERE!!”
Another ball of red light shot towards us heading directly towards Ratter. Instinctively I stepped in front of him and felt the painful blast tear my breath from my lungs. As I began to sink into darkness I thought I heard another voice shouting “NO!!”.
Was that Ratter? No, no .....
I awoke, much to my surprise, much later. Some rough camp had been made and a weak fire sputtered. Ratter attempted to give me some water which made me choke. Sitting up, I looked around. Not four of us huddled around this dismal campsite but six. On the far side of the smoky flames sat the apparition which had earlier attacked us. An elf! Tears had streaked the ash from her cheeks. She sat rocking back and forth and crying. “Jasper and my little Newt gone. Gone. What is there to do? They’re gone.”
Her sobs tore at my heart far worst than the spell she had cast earlier. I turned to Ratter.
“Her husband and her daughter. They were killed,” he whispered, “She isn’t completely coherent but we think she was gathering mushrooms and other ingredients for potions and powders in the forest when this happened. She’s lost everything. Her name is Ma’eldra but we haven’t been able to get much else from her yet.”
How little a distance we had traveled, really, for there to be so remarkable a difference in my whole world. I turned to see who the sixth companion was that shared our sad campsite.
The lad! The thief! Only .... well now that the dirt had been washed off, the hat removed and the brown curly locks dancing freely about the youthful face, those emerald eyes scowling and those lips pouting a familiar pout. This was no lad, this was Laurel. Laurel who Ratter had wooed and won in the city of Isel where she had been a juggler, a bard, an acrobat working with the Theatre Guild. Laurel who I really thought had won the heart of Rasil Bathbone son of Brillig Bathbone 22nd Duke of Ma’rishdoon.
I turned to look at Ratter. But what was this look? I knew his moods so well but what was this? Could I have been right? Had Laurel really stolen his heart and we had left in haste because he was afraid of his own feelings? Oh a day of confusions was this like none before.
“Tomorrow.” Manfred spoke, “we go to Valeia. If it still stands, we seek what council we can find. From now on we keep guard. Peace has left us, has left our fair home. We will never again be the same. Sleep now. I will take the first watch.”

“Oh, this is just the finest mess you’ve gotten us into, Ratter!”