[Thorsten Stiele]

Thorsten had come across the clearing just a moment or two before sunset. It's location was perfect: far enough from the oft traveled roads to permit a fire, yet remain unseen by unwanted eyes, and close to fresh water. The mercenary dropped back to inform his employer of his find, then scouted the surrounding area a second time, just to be sure that all was safe. Everything appeared to be normal.

He returned to the clearing in time to hear M'Tago's instructions to the guards.

[M'Tago]

"I don't care how you arrange yourselves. You are all professionals, so I leave camp security in your capable hands. Of course, the situation will be simplified if someone is in charge."

M'Tago turned to Mist.

"I give that job to you, if you'll have it."

There were several reasons for M'Tago's choice, though he opted not to share these with the group. First, the Drageon/Mist team made up fifty percent of his guard force, making it only 'fair' that one of them should get the job. Second, as a corollary to the first point, Mist was obviously the brains of their team, making it natural that he would assume control. Third, it was plain from the complexity of his illusions and the mini-deception perpetrated earlier that the gnome had a devious, clever mind. This would be an asset in M'Tago's favor, since his pursuers were possessed of like qualities. What could be imagined could be defended against and M'Tago was certain Mist could imagine a great deal. Finally, M'Tago perceived that the gnome had a bit of an ego problem. He was certain the problem derived from past experiences where others in their prejudice had underestimated his abilities. Such frequent misjudgement often led a man to believe, mistakenly, that everyone shared the prejudice evidenced by the few. What followed was an unspoken, often unconscious resentment of others telling the man what to do. That Mist held such resentment was evidenced by the sharp way he demanded answers to his questions before accepting the job and the haughty, almost disdainful way he treated his partner. Putting the gnome in charge should alleviate any doubts lingering in his mind as to whether or not M'Tago fully trusted in his abilities.

"What do you say?"

[Mirro Mist]

"Certainly," Mirro replied with a shrug, then turned to address the entire party. "We're a small group, so I see no need for formalities, but young Teren and I have discovered a few courtesies that smooth life on the road. One is guard duty; everyone takes a night watch, except for you, M'Tago.

"Cooking and cleaning is alternated and that person gets a light watch, or no watch, as in this case. Repeeknon, that job is yours tonight and in the morning. I hope you know how to cook.

"You humans, with your poor eye sight, should take the first and last shifts. Thorsten, you get the sunset watch; Terentus, you get the dawn, and I'll take the dead of night.

"Let's picket our horses over there, in the thick grass. The privy is down in that low area, behind those bushes. And Teren, you round up the firewood, Thorsten you can help if you like."

[M'Tago]

Leaving the arrangements to Mist, M'Tago retrieved his tent from the packhorse and began setting it up.

The tent was made of a simple canvas-like material, with an eight-foot square bottom. Poles at the front and back held it up with guidelines tied from the tops keeping each pole firmly in place. From a distance, the tent looked quite ordinary. Up close, however, one noticed that the six stakes, one at each corner and at the end of each guideline, and the pole tops were all made of polished marble and heavily etched with runes.

M'Tago placed one of the stakes in place and muttered a command word. The stake drove itself into the earth. The other five stakes soon followed suit.

When the tent was fully assembled, the artificer stepped back to survey his handiwork. Nodding his head approvingly he turned to Repeeknon.

"Cooking gear is on the packhorse. Let me know when dinner is ready."

Not waiting for a reply, M'Tago turned his back on the man and entered the tent.

[Thorsten]

Thorsten motioned to Teren. "There's a good deal of firewood this way. I'll show you."

He moved off, hoping for an opportunity to talk to the large mercenary.

[Drageon]

"Don't pay any mind to Mirro's manners, he doesn't mean anything by it," Teren said to Thorsten as they exited the tree line into a rolling meadow. Ice ran ahead, barking and bouncing like he had springs for feet. "Deep down, very deep down, he is actually a nice fella. It just takes a little time to get used to him."

Thorsten, lead the way up the tree line a short distance to a thicket that had suffered wind damage in recent past. The large amount of dead and down offered plenty of seasoned firewood, enough to meet a family's needs for a couple years. Using a hatchet, Teren set to work.

From the nearby foliage, Ice suddenly scared up a pair of pheasants. With surprising speed and dexterity, Teren dropped his hatchet and shrugged the longbow off his back. The nondescript weapon, supple and well worn, seemed to jump into his expert hands, as a child to a mother. Teren quickly drew the bow, touching string to cheek, but oddly void of arrow. For a moment he tracked the heavy birds in low flight, then let go the string, then again. Both empty draws mysteriously launched an arrow that unerringly flew after a bird.

Supremely confident of his skill, Drageon dashed forward before the second arrow found its mark. Jumping over log and bush, he raced his dog to the fallen prey, and lost the contest as Ice bit down on a still flapping bird.

"Ice, stay!" Teren commanded as the White Spitz started to run off with the catch. "Ice, Drop! Ice, ... Drop!" The dog eyed his master with a look that bordered on treason, and then reluctantly let the now dead pheasant go.

Ice defiantly bared his teeth as Teren scooped up the bird by its feet and followed along when he carried it to the other bird. Teren had to motion Ice back as he dropped the second bird next to the first. He proudly noted that both shots took a pheasant in the neck, a difficult thing to do. Touching the long bow to each arrow, it disappeared like one of Mirro's illusions. Slinging the bow back in place over a shoulder, Teren drew a dagger and beheaded the largest bird, leaving the head and the other bird for Ice. "Good boy, take it!"

With a big grin and a headless pheasant, Terentus sauntered back to Thorsten and the hewn branch. Thanks to Ice, I eat well tonight. Help me carry this branch, and I'll share my meal with you."

[Repeeknon]

Repeeknon watched the wood-gatherers leave, not bothering to stop them. He got some plates, then headed to the side of the clearing. Then he broke off five short lengths of wood, all very green and normally useless for making fires, from the nearby trees. Repeeknon set the first branch on the dry grass, and then brought out a small dragon from his cloak.

Repeeknon had brought this dragon out of Ekawa only recently, but it was learning the static physics of the real world suprisingly fast. As Repeeknon looked at the dragon, it matched the appearence that his subconscious expected to find (such is the nature of dream objects): a green dragon, about a foot long including the tail, with white markings and very small, round, overlapping scales. Repeeknon's mental image of dragons included the idea that they were telapathic, so he mentally ordered it to breath fire on the wood.

The dragon's fire quickly caught on the wood despite it's moistness, but ignored the grass he had set it on. Repeeknon waited for the flames to reach their highest, then commanded the fire to turn to meat, catching the flame-shaped morsels on one of the plates. Discarding the burnt peice of wood, he repeated the proccess four more times, creating five plates of curiously shaped, but very high quality meat.

Repeeknon called for the dwarf and the artificer, setting their food out with the plates meant for those collecting wood, then sat down to eat the preserves he had bought while his dragon consumed his plate of food.

[M'Tago]

M'Tago emerged from his tent, a bit surprised by the speed at which Repeeknon had finished preparing the meal. He was sure that meant that tonight's dinner would be of the cold and drab variety.

He was mistaken on both counts.

M'Tago picked up the plate with the strange shaped meat. Or was that "flame-shaped" meat? Something strange was going on here. Then he noticed the little green lizard eating off the plate next to Repeeknon. Some part of that conversation at the inn involving the classification of the elements tickled at the back of the artificier's brain, but he wasn't quite able to put the information to use in explaining the almost instant cooking of strange shaped meat and the appearance of a mini-dragon. Repeeknon certainly looked as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. M'Tago resigned himself to asking the inevitable question:

"Uh, Repeeknon? Would you mind explaining this?" His gesture included both the food and the dragon.

[Mist]

Mirro watched Repeeknon with great interest. The existence of the little dragon, that somehow, wasn't quite a dragon, was a great revelation and a bit of a mystery. But the discovery of the dragon paled in comparison to the casual use of Repeeknon's magic. The gnome, who thought himself incapable of being surprised, watched in slack jawed wonder. The conversion of energy to matter is one of the long held 'Tenets of Impossibility' among the learned magi. The opposite, converting matter to energy, is as easy as starting a fire. But even that is not complete; there is always the residual matter in the form of ash and smoke. Even if Repeeknon processed the proverbial backwards-burning fire, he would have to start with the residual matter; such a thing would be terrible to be near.

The gnome approached Repeeknon and joined M'Tago in examining the miraculous food. "In matters illusionary, there are very few who know more than I. So I am qualified to say 'this is no illusion'."

[Thorsten]

Thorsten found himself liking the big man as they walked to the dead thicket. He had a certain joie de vivre that Thorsten found refreshing. Everything about him, from his love for his dog to his loyaly to his friend showed Teren Drageon to be a good man.

A memory tried to surface then, a picture of another man, this one even taller and wider than Teren. His fully bearded face bore a jovial smile, and a laugh rumbled easily from his belly to his lips....

The memory vanished as Ice sent the pheasants flying into the air. Thorsten watched, unmoving, as Teren, seemingly without thought, drew his bow and downed the two birds. His appreciation fell short of marveling. Thorsten knew that he had witnessed such accuracy with a bow before - though only once - but he also knew that Teren's archery skills surpassed his own without contest. His liking of the man increased. Thorsten was always impressed by skill.

"Ice found them, but the shots came from you," Thorsten said as he eased the other end of the branch onto his shoulder. "Such marksmanship is a rare talent. And your bow - a treasure to be sure. Who was your teacher?"

[Drageon]

"It's no good to be taking credit, if its yours, it'll find you. Ice found the prey, and flushed them out. I merely brought them down with two fantastically skillful shots." Teren glanced back at Thorsten with a friendly wink.

"As for your question, I received my martial training from my father, the Weapons Master of Shah Lee, in the kingdom of Isinholt.

My bow is plain, but it's a treasure to be sure. This longbow, and its broadsword twin, are family heirlooms, handed down from eldest son to eldest son. It is said that the twins are conscious. If it's true, the sword is fat and lazy, it never cared much for my hands. But the longbow seems to have chosen me, that's both a blessing and a curse.

"For generations, my ancestors thought the sword and bow to be nothing more than unwieldy status symbols, the 'Blood of the Dragon'. As I said, the twins are handed down from eldest son to eldest son, meaning they belong to my eldest brother, not the third son.

As a teen with an ordinary bow, I rarely lost any archery challenge. But once, on a whim, I secretly borrowed my brother's bow and found that it worked perfect for me. For my brother, and everyone else, this longbow is stiff and unresponsive. But for me, the draw is smooth and easy. I don't even need an arrow, just a thought of what I want to do.

Since the borrowing, the bow kept finding its way back to me, usually not through any actions of my own. As you can expect, Connell, my eldest brother, didn't care for that much. My father warned me to leave it alone, and I tried, but after finding it again in my room, I was officially accused of thievery, and banned from Shah Lee. Which was fine by me. Before that, my lot was to become a palace guard. The King's daughters are pretty enough, but I never had any desires for celibacy. So I left, and some time later I discovered the bow left with me. I imagine Connell is not much happy with half a pair.

"But what about you? I'm sure you have an interesting tale to tell."

[Repeeknon]

Repeeknon quickly finished a piece of dried food that he was eating from the supply he had purchased at the inn. He knew the meat was good, but he was trying to accustom himself with normal food. The flavor was worse, but more interesting than that of his food. He had been making his own, improved version of the foods in this world ever since he had been forced to come here in the daytime, and thought this a good time to break the habit. Besides, his dragon needed a snack.

"Do you know of the history of the Elements? they are more than a static group of things that the physical world is fundamentally made up of. Four instance, one of the most important pieces of history is that Fire is not part of the original set. It used to be just a natural occurence, that would take place when earth and air mixed with sufficient heat and lack of water. A great wizard, an alchemest, working under a king, made fire as a lower form of Ether, and based on some groundwork already laid out by the creation of dragons. He allowed fire to be ruled by the dragons. The magic of dragons is able to make fire from air, closely related to that of the phoenix, able to remake itself from ashes.

"My magic is a simple variation: the wizard made fire a new element, but left the old occerence intact to an extent; the change was that it produced the element Fire, instead of simply being fire. I communicate with the event, telling it to make any element I want." Repeeknon smiled. "Simple alchemy suggsts that I can make any material substance by combinig the elements in different ways. Like this meat here. Or my bag of platnum."

[M'Tago]

"Let me see if I understand you correctly. You're saying that you can communicate with the natural EVENT that creates the ELEMENT of fire and command it to, instead of producing FIRE, arrange itself to produce any number of elements in whatever arrangement or combination you desire?"

M'Tago was floored. If Repeeknon was telling the truth, then he could make ANYTHING, from cooked meat, to jewels, to metal, to?.

To Starstones.

This entire journey might be unnecessary, if the mage could just produce the stones?.

No, thought M'Tago. It wouldn't be that simple. Repeeknon would probably have to be familiar with a substance to reproduce it. That meant he would actually have to handle a starstone before he could make them. But, oh the possibilities then! And if Repeeknon could TEACH this skill?.

M'Tago tried to keep the calculation off his face as he probed for more information

"That's simply amazing. How in the world does one communicate with an EVENT?"

[Thorsten]

Teren's mention of the title "Weapons Master" struck a chord in Thorsten. A flood of images rushed in on his consciousness, memories of a tall, well-built man with a dark goatee. Weapons Master. Yes - Thorsten, too, had received his training from a Weapons Master - THE Weapons Master. That title also meant something more personal?.

?but the images slipped away as fast as they had arrived and Thorsten's memories were again plunged into the impenetrable blackness that had come to haunt him over the last few days.

"I?don't really have a tale to share," Thorsten said lamely. "I awoke after an accident two days ago with a blank slate. I have no real memories of my life beyond these past few days, just flashes of thought - images of individuals and events whose names I have forgotten. I know I was trained by a Weapons Master - the greatest warrior of our time. Of this I am sure, though I couldn't tell you his name or from whence he hailed. I know no more about myself."

Thorsten laughed briefly. "I'm not even sure of my NAME. 'Thorsten Stiele' is the name embroidered on the cloth that covers my sword hilt. I assume it's MY name, though my instincts tell me I didn't go by it often. Still, it's the only name I know, so I use it, for the time being."

[Drageon]

Teren glanced over his shoulder at Thorsten with a concerned look upon his face. "And you think that's not an interesting tale? I never knew anyone who didn't know who he was.

"Who is considered the greatest warrior of our time is, is often a matter of perspective and allegiance. In this, we may not agree. Later, I can tell you the Weapons Masters I know of, and we can speak of great warriors; perhaps that will strike a spark."

They returned to camp and found the other three, deep in conversation waxing philosophical. Teren noted the signs of recent fire and the oddly shaped meat. He curled his lip in distaste. Signing Ice to take his half-chewed bird away from the others, Teren set down his end of the branch and hung his bled pheasant out of reach of the greedy white dog.

"You can do as you wish, but I prefer to know where my food is coming from," Teren said to Thorsten and then began to chop the branch into firewood. "Of course I will honor our agreement and split the pheasant with you."

[Thorsten]

One glance at the flame shaped meat was enough for Thorsten

"I believe I will take you up on that."

He opened his pack and handed Teren an odd-shaped whistle on a string.

"That's a yellow warbler whistle. Give a blow when it's ready. I'm going to make a last scout of the area before dark truly sets in. There's a lot of cloud cover tonight, so the moonlight will be low and I don't want any surprises."

So saying, Thorsten set off into the woods.

[Mist]

Mirro tugged at his wispy beard in frustration. He couldn't decide if he was listening to a master's discourse, or a mad man's blathering. He then listened to M'Tago, but he wasn't making much sense either.

"The amalgamation and severance of elements is the basis of alchemy, as well as the sympathetic and contrary magics. But fire is not an element! It's an energy, like the lightening, sunshine, wind or the force that keeps us on the ground. You can manipulate energy, you can store energy, but you can't extract its essence.

"This 'History of Elements' sounds more like a method of control than historical fact. I fail to understand how you, or anyone, can make matter from energy, ... unless it is only a distraction from the real event."

[M'Tago]

The artificer could tell that Mirro didn't believe Repeeknon's explanation of the meat. In fact, he had to admit to himself that what Repeeknon claimed to have done did go against what M'Tago had always been taught about the laws of magic. Still, if Repeeknon were telling the truth, this would be such an opportunity!

M'Tago bit into the meat. It was excellent. Succulent and juicy. In fact, it was the best beef that he had ever tasted!

M'Tago's greed won out over his skepticism. He rubbed his truth stone and waited for Repeeknon's rebuttal.

[Mist]

A Master of Illusion and an extremely skilled thief, Mirro Mist had a tendency to measure people by levels of deception; their own, and gullibility to his. When Repeeknon didn't immediately challenge the gnome's arguments, Mirro knew he had the right of it; Repeeknon was a fake. Proud of his shrewd deduction, the gnome chuckled under his breath while he took out his pipe and began stuffing it with tobacco. Leaning back on one elbow, Mirro began to blow smoke rings and dancing dogs as he watched the others.

[Drageon]

Teren turned the pheasant on the spit, deciding that it was near ready. He wiped Thorsten's whistle off on his sleeve, and gave it a blow.

Licking blood from his muzzle and front paws, Ice paused and listened to the strange sound. After looking about the camp with his keen blue eyes, the dog went back to his self cleansing.

[Thorsten]

Thorsten heard the whistle and finished setting up the trip wire he was working on before returning to the camp fire. He took the pheasant from Teren with his thanks and sat down on the ground to eat his meal.

While he ate he explained to Teren, loud enough so that the gnome could overhear, the nature and location of the various 'warning devices' he had set up around the camp.

After finishing his meal, Thorsten stood.

"That was a real treat. Thank you, and you, Ice," he added. "I'm going to station myself over there."

Thorsten pointed to a spot on the opposite side of camp from the horses that gave him an optimal view of the area.

"I'll wake you when your watch is due," he said to Mirro as he walked past.

Thorsten moved to where he had indicated and set himself up for his watch.

[Repeeknon]

Repeknon's views of the world did not conflict with the gnome; he believed that both things here true, in a way, but more that both things were good metaphors for the truth, both good representations for something far more difficult to comprehend.

"I will not argue with your point of view; both of our angles are different, but both are coherent." To M'tago, he said "I didn't learn how to do this. I can, but that is all I know. The best representation that I have is that I have something the fire listens to. What that would be, I don't know."

[M'Tago]

The truth stone remained cold. Repeeknon was telling the truth as far as he knew it. M'Tago was disappointed in the not unexpected response. Things would have to proceed as he had planned.

There would be no easy answer.

Grunting his displeasure, M'Tago turned back to his tent. "We leave just after sunrise. I expect everything to be ready by then."

The artificer set the tent's wards and then fell into a fitful sleep.

[Repeeknon]

His meal finished, Repeeknon got up and went into the tent, pretending to prepare for sleep.

He closed his eyes, and found himself in Ekawa.

Corbroc was here. He could feel it. Often, when he came, he felt his fleeting presence, just leaving as Repeeknon came in. But now was different. The dragon's power filled the area with a feeling of dread. Repeeknon left the dream land, which was now taking on the charactaristics of a desolate castle, as soon as he could change his entry point into the world, but the dragon slowed his operations. As he departed, Ekawa blurred slowly away... but something felt wrong. Too late, he sensed the entry point he had chosen being twisted around, to a point far distant from the one he intended. It was past the woods, past the continent, and then it was wrenched away from Iffrean entirely. The dragon's power was greater than he imagened... Corbroc must be a fast learner. How horrible.

Repeknon opened his eyes, and found himself in a wood filled with small, young trees that barely stretched a yard above his head. He tried to cross back into Ekawa, but when he closed his eyes, nothing happened, although it was nighttime here. There was a pond nearby, and a little stream, alongside a hill. As he looked around, he sensed an absence of magic. There was barely enough manna to keep these plants growing! as he walked towards the pond, he sensed also that there were a few large concentrations of magic in the distance. The closest was over the hill, and then some distance in the same direction. About a day's walk, he decided.

He started walking.

[[OOC -Repeeknon was forced on hiatus by some unfortunate circumstances. His author was finally able to get back online and his story can be found continued here." - EOCC]]

[Meanwhile, back in Montfort?]

[Arturo Ringhand and Sephyr]

It had taken Sephyr only minutes to arrive at the stable and just slightly longer to pick up M'Tago's trail on the wind. Tracking that trail was considerably trickier, however, and it was several hours before that trail had led them to the Dragon's Inn. There, the trail became 'muddied' and Sephyr had remained outside to sort it out while Arturo had entered the inn to question its patrons.

Sephyr was on the verge of sorting the various comings and goings when the hunched dwarf exited the Inn.

"He was here, all right," Arturo said, his harsh tone disturbing Sephyr's concentration. "Seems he was hiring bodyguards early this afternoon for a trip up north."

"Did you get descriptions?" Sephyr asked, reading the delicate air currents with the skill of a soaring hawk. Something here was familiar to her. If she could only sort through the varied background?.

"Aye, for all of the good it'll do us. Seems Montago hired himself a guard of four. There's a pair that was somewhat familiar hereabouts: a gnome mage with a human fighter companion, another fighter, somewhat plain of appearance, though graceful, and a strange madman, if the stories are true. He hired them for a month - two weeks out and two back."

"Not that he'll be coming back here once he has the stones."

"Aye. He'll leave by more - conventional - methods to be sure. Still, if these guards are skilled in anyway t'will make our task more difficult."

At that moment, the familiar thread revealed itself. "Steel!"

"T'is true. Iffin we had the lad with us we'd be assured of success, but we can't afford to wait?"

Sephyr grabbed the dwarf by the arm. "No, Arturo! Steel was here! In fact, he left WITH M'Tago! I can see his traces clearly now."

Arturo's eyes widened. "Aye, it makes sense now. The graceful fighter, plain of appearance - that description would fit Steel, sure enough. But if he had found Montago, why not just take him and be done with the thing. Why the subterfuge?"

Sephyr shrugged. "That I cannot tell. I only know that he travels with your apprentice."

Arturo nodded. "That'll be good enough. We've made two good discoveries, then. We know the composition of Montago's guard and we know we have an ally amongst them."

The dwarf thrust a finger in the air. "Be on guard, traitor. We are fast upon you."

Sephyr tried to mimic Arturo's grin, but found it hard. Something was wrong. Under normal circumstances, Steel would never have let M'Tago go free, let alone travel with him. The elf cast her mind back upon the scene of the explosion in the alley. Had something happened to their comrade? Or were there other forces at play here, forces they had yet to uncover?

Sephyr let the thoughts mull about in her mind. One thing was certain: the outcome of this pursuit would depend upon Steel.

(to be continued...)