"Norel's Story"
by Tom Morin

   Sansabar still had the wanderlust that many of his companions had
outgrown years ago. This was due in part to his elven heritage that had
kept him young while his friends grew old. While he wouldn't frequent the
strange and many times life threatening places he did when surrounded by
competent adventurers, he could at least satisfy his restlessness by
visiting the places his friends had chosen to retire. That was what led
his footsteps to the door of his friend Falorian's cabin deep in the heart
of the woods he loved.
   A mischievous grin crossed his face as he decided to surprise his
friend. Listening at the door he heard nothing so he quietly opened the
door. All thoughts of mischief left his brain as he stared stunned at the
sight before him. Falorian was sitting on a chair surrounded by packs and
equipment which bespoke a long journey about to begin. It wasn't this which
brought the elf up short but the jewel attached the cord around
Falorian's neck. The symbol of his goddess which he normally kept tucked
beneath his clothes only taking it out when it's bright light was needed.
It's light was as bright as ever but whereas before it shined
continuously, it was now pulsing with a rhytham much like a heartbeat - a
rhytham that could mean only one thing.
   "Hello Sansabar", Falorian said with a sad little smile.
   "Has the time come so quickly?"
   Looking closer at his friend Sansabar realized that indeed many years
had passed. Falorian had aged well and was still as massively muscled as
ever but was showing the signs of his age in the wrinkles on his face and
his long white hair.
   "I'm afraid so. We all knew this time was coming. It's time for me to
make the last journey in the service of my Goddess." Falorian looked
around at the cottage meaningfully, "Would you...".
   "Of course.", Sansabar asserted, "Don't worry about a thing."
   "Thanks." Falorian replied with a note of relief. Then he stood up and
embarassed his friend in one last bear hug before setting off.

                              * * * * * *

   Norel Bolderdash was slightly disappointed. He and his family had been
helping to guard a caravan for a week now and they hadn't once been
attacked.
   "When are we gonna see some action?" he demanded of his older brother
Franc who was slightly ahead of him. 
   "A boring trip means easy pay little one, you should be glad that we
don't have to work for our gold.", was the reply.
   Norel took some exception to being called "little one" all the time.
Sure his older brothers were massive compared to him but he also hadn't
finished growing yet. In a few more years we'll see who the little one is,
he thought to himself.
   "How else am I supposed to get more kills than you if we don't get into
a fight?" Norel continued.
   Franc looked back and grinned. "You should worry about you're first
kill before you start counting."
   Norel was not concerned. "Bah! I'll mow them down with my axe, They
won't stand a chance."
   Franc just nodded and went back to looking for signs of trouble.
   Norel also took the chance to survey their surroundings. They had just
left a depressing little village and were following the road north. To the
west and just in sight was the large forrest. The area was quite hilly and
the sky was overcast. All in all not much to look at.
   His eyes finally settled on the lead wagon with the caravan master
perched on top chatting with the old gaffer they had picked up in the
village. The old man had the equipment and goody two shoes attitude of one
of those stupid forest rangers. Norel couldn't understand how anyone could
be willing to fight for something without pay, especially when the chance
to lose your life was so great. Some arrangement must have been reached
between the old man and the caravan master for them to be getting along so
well. Oh well, as his father had said before, we're not getting paid for
our opinions. 

                              * * * * * *

   The orc crawled back from the top of the hill and ran back to report.
   "Caravan!" he grunted to his commander. "10 wagons, 20 guards. Coming
up the hill."
   The commander looked back at the 150 orcs he had gathered to raid the
village to the south and smiled. "First we kill dem, den we raid da
village. No mercy!"
   Enmasse the orc raiding party began to run to the top of the hill.

                              * * * * * *

   "...and then he comes out with 20 sides of beef! How am I supposed to
transport all that..."
   Falorian only half listened to the continuing stream of chatter from
the caravan master. While the man wasn't a bad fellow, rare in these
parts, he felt the need to fill up every moment of silence with the sound
of his voice. Suddenly his danger since went into overdrive.
   "...then he had the nerve to charge me 40 gold!..."
   "Hssst!"
   "Wha?!"
   Standing up, Falorian stared intently at the top of the hill they were
currently climbing while listening for a clue of the danger. Then he heard
it. The sound of running feet getting louder. "I think we're in trouble.
Ready the men."
   As the caravan master began to frantically signal his guards the first
orcs breasted the crest of the hill. "ORCS!", Falorian roared then began to
loose arrows into their ranks. Each orc he felled was replaced by 4 more
as the swarm continued. "My Goddess... there are too many."

                              * * * * * *

   As the cry of "Orc" was passed down the line Norel began to feel his
excitement mount.
   "Looks like you'll get your fight after all", Franc grinned at him.
"Get ready."
   The two brothers readied their battle axes while watching the orcs
approach. Norel quickly saw that there was a problem. "But... there are
too many of them."
   "By the Gods..." Franc gasped. "Stay by me..."
   And then the orcs were on them and all was confusion, cursing, blood,
and the screams of the dying. Norel couldn't keep track of how many he
killed or if he even killed anyone. Which is why he didn't see the club
which hit the side of his head making his body go numb as he collapsed
uncontrollably. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the
sight of an orc which his brother had just cleaved in twain with the two
parts spinning in air and blood flying everywhere.

                              * * * * * *

   Falorian was in bad shape. again he cursed the crossbow bolt lodged in
his right shoulder which had taken him out of the battle. He also cursed
the necessity which had driven him to hide among the dead like a coward
until the fighting was over. He now staggered along the row of wagons
looking for signs of life. His jewel was hanging out of his cloak and
pulsing very rapidly.
   "Not much time left."
   As he started tossing aside orc bodies from a pile he grabbed a
dangling human arm and stopped short.
   "This one's still warm!"
   Covering the rest of the owner of the arm was the body of a rather
large human warrior.
   "Almost as big as me." he mused as he rolled the body aside then
checked the one beneath for signs of life.
   "Ehlonna be praised, he's still alive." Looking at the boy, he saw
the markings of the mercenaries that work in the area and frowned to
himself. "Beggars can't be choosers I suppose. Then again, after all this
time I still don't recall how I started out. He'll have to do."
   He laid his bow and arrows, sword, and pack next to the boy and then
kneeled down next to him. "May you be a force of good for the world." He
then grabbed his jewel in both hands and began to concentrate. The pulsing
of the jewel steadied until it was constant and glowed brighter and
brighter. The last thing that Falorian saw before the brightness consumed
all was the face of his Goddess smiling at him.

                              * * * * * *

   Darkness...pain...a gradual blurry brightening which became clearer and
resolved into a blue sky with a few puffy clouds. The pain resolved into a
splitting headache. The strong scent of death in the air brought him back
to wakefulness. Sitting up caused the jewel attached the cord around
his neck to reflect the sunlight. He tucked it inside his shirt and took
in his surroundings. There had been a fight obviously, and just as
obviously he had been on the losing side. Standing up, he absently picked
up his bow and arrows, sword, and pack as he tried to recall what happened
here. Nothing came to him except the feeling that his family was among
the dead here. But looking at the faces of the fallen brought no clue as
to who they might be. A strong feeling of anger and frustration swept
though him. "These orcs took something from me today. They will pay for it
in blood." His still throbbing head informed him that vengeance would have
to wait. "I've gotta get out of here before the orcs come back to loot. He
looked around to get his bearings and spotted to forest to the west. He
slowly started to make his way there in search of shelter.

                              * * * * * *

   As he trudged along the trail he had found in the forest, two men
suddenly appeared on the trail 20 feet ahead of him.
   "Greetings", one of them said while making a hand gesture.
   The boy sighed and relief and made the properly gestured response. 
   The two men relaxed visibly and the same one continued, "You don't look
familiar friend, are you new to these woods?"
   "Um...I'm not sure. The caravan I was with was attacked by orcs and I
got hit on the head. I can't seam to remember much."
   One man glanced at the other and nodded, "Yes, we saw them moving in
the area but unfortunately didn't have enough men to do much about it. Why
don't you com back to our camp until your memory returns?"
   "That would be great, thanks" the boy replied.
   As they set of one of the men asked, "Can you remember your name?"
   For some reason it came quickly. "Yes, it's Norel, Norel Bolderdash."

                              * * * * * *

   Norel easily kept up with the party of 10 orcs as he tracked them
along the edge of the Adri Forest. As he quickened his pace to get ahead
of them his thoughts wandered. It had been several years since the battle
which had robed his memory. He had spent the time since then with the
rangers of the Adri Forest but the time had not diminished his hatred for
the orcs which had taken his past from him.
   "And since I don't know WHICH orcs did the dead, I'll just have to kill
them all." Which was what lead him to scout out a good ambush site ahead
of the orc party. Instead of finding his ambush he saw something which
caused him to start swearing. Directly in the path of the orcs a ragged
group of peasants had made camp and were unaware of the approaching orcs.
   "Fools! What were they thinking?! This is no place for a picnic!"
Casting stealth aside he began to run to intercept the orc party while
yelling at the top of his lungs, "RUN FOR THE WOODS!"
   He had enough time to see the peasants begin to scatter for the woods
then he crashed into the orcs swinging his long sword for all he was worth.
Two of the orcs were laid low before the rest realized what happened. The
the tide quickly turned in favor of the orcs. He went defensive and held
them off for as long as he could before he was beaten senseless. He only
hoped he had given the peasants enough time to make good their escape.

                              * * * * * *

   "Three dead!" The orcs leader spat. "This is a big one. He'll make a
good slave." He grinned at the thought of the price the human would fetch.
"Tie him up and lets get out of here before help arrives." The other orcs
tied up the unconscious human and they then began the trek north.

                              * * * * * *

   Norel grunted under the weight of the pole which rested on his
shoulders with a full bucket of coal at each end. He had been in the slave
mine for nearly a month surrounded by orcs he couldn't kill. It was enough
to drive a man crazy. As he approached the dumping site he saw a group of
well equipped orcs on the far side of the large room. He stopped short as
the one which appeared to be the leader came into view wearing Norel's
jewel around his neck.
   "Some day I'll take that back from your corpse." Norel swore. "Mark my
words..."

                              * * * * * *

   Norel paused at the exit to the underground cavern system which had been
his first place of refuge after his escape from slavery. Tron, Thost, and
Ivan had already started moving south. South had been the decision
reached by the group but he couldn't help looking back to the north where
his jewel waited for him.
   "I may not be ready now...but I'll be back." He then shouldered his
gear and followed his new found friends south.