You wake thrilled.  Your body wants to jump up and run ten miles.  The air is thick, heavy, redolent with a hundred smells.  Each breath is like eating a chocolate sundae.

Dripping vines hang over you, and ferns shadow your face from the clouded sky.  Gravity feels normal, although its kinda hard to say what with the energy surging through you, begging you to run, run...

But caution keeps you steady, and you look about to see an oak and a palm and a fir, all bedecked with vines, on which grow other tendrils, and the ground is thick with moss.  Nearby you can hear the burble of a stream. A brilliant pink macaw?? is scolding you in words that your mind does not know, but your heart does.

"Thief! Scum! Go away."

Its no language you've ever heard, and it has strange contours to it, but you understand it somehow.
This message was last updated by the GM at 19:29, Wed 09 July 2014.

   I feel great.  This definitely beats waking up on a pile of trash bags.  The energy coursing through my body and the way I'm feeling, makes me insure that my adrino booster is actually turned off.

   I don't recognize the vines or the ferns but that isn't news to me.  I could be in the middle of a botanical garden or a jungle world.  I'll figure it out.  That's what I do.  I am a detective, even after all that has happened.  The sort of talking pink bird was different, but as long as it wasn't attacking, I didn't have a problem with it.  I had things to do.

   With what has become standard procedure, I check around for my equipment and for other versers.  Ummm... I think this hospital gown has got to go first thing.  Well maybe not first thing.  I'll wait until I find my backpack to change into my blue jeans, black T-shirt, and crosstrainers.  I'm also not sure the reason I feel almost naked is the paper hospital gown I'm wearing or the weapon harness I'm not wearing.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 19:29, Wed 09 July 2014.

The adreno booster is off, although indeed the feelings are somewhat similar.  This has less wrath tho'...less of a metalic taste in your mouth as well.

You find no other versers, but you do get a vector on your equipment.  It leads you under the fir tree, past a green apple tree, down a short slope cleared by a true giant of the forrest, a sequoyah, amidst a horde of small maples regrowing and here a boa, a rather large specimen slides by your path.

Even from here, you can see the sky is clouded, but with a bit of shininess to it, a sparkle. The macaw follows you this far, shouting 'more wine, more wine, thief, scum, money, more wine, more wine', and as you go on it gives a satisfied squawk likes its chased you off.

You have to go farther to your right than you'd like to get to the point where the sequayah is only ten feet thick, and easily climbable. You startle up a cloud of butterflies of gold, and purple, green, and orange.  From there its a hike back up hill through a patch of giant ferns forty feet tall and dotted with snails.  And despite all this, you're not eve the tiniest bit out of breath.

Piled up in a neat rectangle is your gear, right next to a small tree stump. As you get closer, you see a dragonfly fanning its wings as it rests upon, and samples your backpack.  Its sixteen inches across.
This message was last updated by the GM at 19:29, Wed 09 July 2014.

   The view here is incredible.  All the colors, the diversity of life, the richness that you can taste on your tongue.  I wondered how much of it was poisonous.

   The macaw had to have come upon those terms it had been spouting in a tavern or bar somewhere near here.  That means people.  That means I need my stuff.  I couldn't remember if dragonflies were poisonous, but it didn't really matter.  The dragonflies I couldn't recall weren't the dragonflies that lived here.  I didn't have anywhere to go.  I didn't have anyone to meet.  So, in a conversational voice, I spoke up, "Hello, Mister Dragonfly.  Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"

It turns and faces you,and then leaps into the air, its wings buzzing furiously.  It dives at you, and you duck, and it spins on past leaving the air vibrating in its wake.  But its gone.

And in a trice, you're dressed, and loaded up with your weapons.

Doing anything with the paper gown?

   Given the looks of this place, I half expected the dragonfly to say something in return.  Maybe he and the macaw discussed philosophy when nobody else was around.  Or, maybe not.

   I felt a lot better being dressed, in both ways.  I left the take down rifle on my pack.  I wasn't planning on doing any hunting.  I left the blaster pistol in the pack, too.  There just wasn't enough space to carry everything in the ready position.

   I looked at the dress.  It wasn't anything I would ever want to wear again, but I might find a use for it later.  What was it that my Grandmother used to say...  Oh yeah.  Waste not. Want not.  She might not have been a verser or an ecology type, but she made sense then and it still makes sense now.  I stuffed the dress into my pack.

   I didn't have any specific direction in mind, so I started heading downhill.  Supposedly, civilization could be found down hills and down streams.  I've liked most civilizations I've visited, so downhill it is.

OOC: There was that Bird of Paradise that was a demigod of Faerie in one story...

Turning about, you head downhill thru the giant ferns.  Passing beyond them into a dense overcover of some type of wickedly thorned tree, spikes four to five inches long, among which hides shy, little monkeys with cute cream colored faces.

Hopping an eight foot wide ravine, you hear beneath you the grunt and squeal of piglets. And then a deeper, thunderous grunt.

A steeper slope is covered by giant hickory with nuts aplenty underfoot, many with signs of being munched on. Below that windy, cooler avenues, the land flattens out, and sogs up, and bamboo makes an appearance.  You can hear water moving ahead.  Unfortunately, you can also see four bamboo stalks, a foot wide that look like they've been chomped off at four foot high.  The bamboo forrest is thirty to fifty feet tall in places.  And down in it, there is no wind.

   As I look at the stand of bamboo, I'm trying to think of what might bite off the foot wide bamboo stalks leaving four foot remnants.  The only animal that comes to mind is a giant panda from China, or maybe in this case a really gigantic panda from who knows where.  I'm pretty sure that I don't want to meet this guy if I go into the bamboo.  Logic tells me that some other creature might also eat foot wide bamboo stalks.  Common sense suggests I don't want to run into them either.

   I swing wide around the bamboo stand and keep going.  I'm moving more carefully now.  In this place, I don't appear to be anywhere close to the top of the food chain.

You  step back up into the edge of the hickories, and go around to the left until you reach a granite hill about four hundred feet tall.  Beyond it are marshes of cattails, so you climb.

The view stretches out in front of you as you stand under a grove of palm trees near the edge of a two hundred foot cliff face.  You're on one of the highest areas round about.

To your left, the river you're trying to get too turns into a swamp. And you spot something move in the swamp, not clearly, but you think it was at least elephant size.  Ahead of you the cattail marshes are about two hundred yards thick.  On the far side of the bamboo, to your right, is mangroves.  And beyond that is a river bend going back your way, and more cattails, and finally around the bend a blackened area of land with charcoaled sticks of trees that leads down to the river.

In the distance you see a small flock of giant birds beyond the river.  The river itself looks about forty feet wide.

   "Where is Marlin Perkins when you need him?"  I pulled my multivisor from my pack put it on and dialed it to telescopic.  I took a long look about.  I'm looking for some signs of human habitation.  I'm also checking out the wildlife.  Also looking for a way down might be a good thing.  I munch out on a peanut butter energy bar as I watch.

Across the river is a stream, and laying across it are two adjacent logs of about the same size, and stripped of branches.  It could be accident....

Glancing high, you're bedazzled by something shiny in the sky.

Lookin further, you track a flock of large fliers, and catch a glimpse of leathery wing as they all suddenly dive, and dissappear into the forrest.

Looking up river, you see some crocs in the water, but something odd about them....they all move in unison.

Nessie.

No couldn't be.

And its gone.

A search of bamboo reveals a rhinoceros on a scale to match an elephant in mass.  This huge beast is methodically snapping off, and then eating chunk by chunk a forty foot long bamboo stalk like you would eat a peanut butter protein bar.

Looking upriver to the burned spot, you see what looks like a catamaran in very primitive form.  Something intelligent built it.

   ...or a bridge.  And a bridge is usually part of a trail from one place to another.  This bears investigation and I've been my own best client of late.  I removed and powered off the multivisor, then replaced it in my pack.  I never drew a paycheck from the Bethany Mission, but they did have nice gear.

   Bird packs that dive like a flight of Stukas... Crocodiles into synchronized swimming... Rhinophants...  I'm not sure where I was, but I know I've never been here before.

   The animals movements looked somehow choreographed.  That implied an artificial environment waaaaay beyond what Walt Disney ever produced.  I thought for the briefest moment about taking a shot at Mister Rhinophant, but the biggest caliber I had was .30-06.  It's a good caliber for deer, but almost useless for that guy.  I'm not even sure that a Holland and Holland double rifle in .700 Nitro Express would do much to hurt it.

   Of course, I didn't have an H&H double rifle.  I saw some of them once in a factory gun room in The Big Apple.  It was on a bodyguard run for a Chicago based big game hunter.  His specialty was African jungles.  Mine was urban jungles.  He treated me like his guide and gun bearer, and the pay almost made up for it.  I might have been able to buy one of their double rifles if I had sold everything I owned except for the clothes on my back... and gotten a good sized bank loan... and then robbed the bank.  Did I mention that the rifles were kind of pricy?

   Nothing was happening up here, so I made myself a short mental to do list.  "First, don't get eaten.  Second, follow trail from bridge.  Third, find out just what was going on."   It was time to get started on my list.

The problem with the bridge?? is that its on the other side of the river.  And you've yet to even get to the river.

You think Mr. BigShot Game Hunter could have tagged it with an H&H because as he somewhat condescendingly explained its not ALL about the calibre.  He'd met a man who had killed an elephant with a .357 magnum pistol.  You just had to know exactly where to put the bullet, and then Not Miss. Because otherwise you were going to be a funny story for the natives at campfire that night.

You've got a small animal trail down the granite hill which is the same you came up.  And despite all this exercise, you're feeling energetic.  Sweating like a pig in the humidity, but you haven't yet had to take a break.

OOC: I never said it was a complete list.

   I took a healthy swig of water from my solar canteen to avoid dehydration before heading down the game trail.  I didn't know what was in the air that had me so pumped up, but I did remember basic workout guidelines.  Stay hydrated was right up there with avoid muscle-bound jocks who could bench press a Volkswagen Beetle.

   I flipped the selector switch on the PDW to full auto, then replaced it back in the holster.  It might not do much good against Rhinophant, but I felt better doing it.

After thinking about it, you realize the air fills thick, heavy, but not in a smothering sense.  Your lungs don't burn, and you've not felt oxygen debt.  It might be like those basketball players who stick their head in an air tent to oxygenate their blood.

Scrambling down, you knock loose a few rocks, scare a foot long chameleon that was stalking an oversized fly, and arrive at the bottom of the hill.  And you scare up hundreds of pigeons who thunder into the air around you, and for a second you're surrounded by white and pale blue feathers before the flock reaches tree height, circles once, and lands in a tall maple halfway up the hill.

Considering the amount of undergrowth, and how easy something the size of a cougar could hide within ten feet of you, keeping the PDW ready seems sensible.

Where too now?

   This place was both amazing and scarey.  Speaking of scarey, I began to wonder what the side effects were from breathing an elevated level of oxygen.  Everyone knows that you can die from insufficient oxygen.  I hoped I wouldn't have to find out what happens from too much oxygen.

   I recalled the burned area with the boat.  Maybe I could find something there to help me figure a few things out.

the cattails, and the bamboo, and more cattails as you go around the bend in the river, and here you see a dozen blue pelicans take flight, calmly, majestically.  A large beaver?? walks across the path in front of you, gives you one quick look and dives into the marsh with a splashW

A swarm of gnats decides to try Misty Tartare.  You saw one get killed by an enormous six inch wide mosquito hawk, and you're half sure the marble sized gnat dissappeared, but it was out of the corner of your eye.

With relief you venture on to the burnt ground. Charcoaled trees have fallen, although some bits of others still stand.  New greenery is poking up through the black.
And you're finally able to get to the river, which is fifty feet wide here.  And you look down at something that looks back up at you.

Its got a jaw that even in normal size would be outrageous.  Here, the alligator gar fish is fifteen feet long, and its mouth is five feet long.  It turns away, and another brother to the first swims by.

You see a very crude catamaran fit for one or two people.  Its burnt out hulls of tree branches, vines for rope, and some sort of flat sail of undyed hemp.  It has a thirty foot long bamboo pole near it.

A shadow passes overhead, and a pteradactyl hits the ground, talons first thirty feet from you.  It leaps back into the air, holding a limp four legged furred something.

   Someone built this boat.  They probably wouldn't have chosen a spot too far from their home or base camp or whatever as a build site.  This cat probably took a while to build.  That would mean multiple trips to and fro.  That could create a trail.  The fire would have obliterated any traces of a trail here.  I'm thinking walking the edge of the burned area to look for that trail might be a good idea.  I'm also thinking about swapping out my .30-06 for something in a bigger caliber very soon.  Since I can't see any gun shops from here, I head to the edge of the burned area to look for that possible trail as my next best option.

It takes an hour of searching, and you go past it twice, but a small bush with too few berries catches your eye. Then you see a small footprint, baked, as if from heat next to it, and from there you're able to begin to decipher a very faint trail, as if created by one person.

He or she has some woods talent.

You follow it under some spiketrees, and then flame trees?? with brilliant foiliage of white, red, and orange. And then you smell cooking meat.

OOC: I called the big critter a Rhinophant after rejecting my first idea.  What was it?  Ellifino.

   With weapons ready but not in hand, I move closer as quietly as I can to scope out the place ahead of me.

I liked the name.  It was just an outsized rhino.

You spot a small campfire, well arranged, and something the size of a dog, roasting on a spit above the campfire. You can also see a rock amidst the coals at the fire's edge, and on it are some tubers and green, red, and purple plants.

You can smell honey, mint, and something sort of like a cross between potato and caulliflower that is baking.

A simple lean-to of branches faces the fire.  A small trail leads away a few feet, and instead of the spring you expected, you see a small mine, and veins of gold come to the surface.

   Might as well say hello to show that I'm friendly.  I stand up and call out, "Hello, the camp!  May I share your fire?"  My hands are out, far enough away from my weapons to hopefully not seem threatening.

You hear a splash about twenty feet away to your right.  And you hear light feet climb up into a tree that way.

Then ten feet away and to your right, you see a young girl with a finely crafted spear in hand.  Her dress is well decorated in beads and threadwork of simple, but elegant design, and the hemp is of better quality and stained green.

She's at most two feet six inches.

And then you catch a look at her face.  Give her four feet, and she'd be Elle McPherson and Mila Kunis a run for the cover of the top fashion magazines.  Her head is a bit large for her body, and her neck thicker to support it, but it doesn't matter, she's beautiful in a way that the sunrise is.

So when she says...

"Ugly, mean, war monster killer giant thing." It hurts.  You heard her voice as that of the odd macaw.  The words made no sense to your head, but you still understood them.  And one word seemed vaguely familiar to the head....nephili.

And in her left hand is another tunic, this one a bit wet.  Evidently she was down at the creek washing her spare dress.

   I might be a giant war monster killer, but ugly?  That's just unkind.  I sit on the ground to try to not look so tall and menacing.  Next, I point to myself and as I say each word, I also try to think the word.  "Misty.  Friend.  Traveler."

"Why do you speak as a baby does?"  You can see she has relaxed a bit.  She does not understand you. She looks puzzled and curious.

   Well, I got through.  I'm still doing the combined mind and mouth communication.  "My name is Misty.  I am not your enemy.  I am a traveler.  This way of mind speaking is new to me.  What is your name?"

She stares at you, and you realize you did not get through to her.  You understand her, but she thinks you're going goo-goo, ga-gah.

She climbs out of the tree, and stands, all two feet, four inches tall in front of you.  She visibly gathers her courage, and then puts a hand on your forehead in the completely familiar 'Mom checking for fever' manner.

"No fever. Perhaps this giant has a head wound and cannot speak?" She mutters to herself.  She starts peering at your head, looking for a lump or blood one suspects.  "Typical giantish scum, leave one of their own to die if it gets injured."

She goes to her campfire, and kicks it up a bit, and then gets a large clay pot from the lean -to, with a lid. She tosses out the water, and puts in some honey and mint leaves.
She uses charades to show you are to stay there while she gets water for tea.

   While I'm sitting here waiting, I take a couple of deep breaths, letting each one out slowly to calm myself.  I mentally reach out to try to read her surface thoughts.

You breathe slowly, and use imagination to create a bridge, (and botch) which catches fire.

Your head aches, your eyes water. Brainburn.

For the next five hours you'll have significant difficulties with psi, and with heavy duty thinking.

She comes back and sets the teapot on the fire.

   "(Groans.)"  That didn't go well at all.  I think I should just sit here for a while.  Pixie Girl already thinks I'm punch stupid.  Now I had to go and prove her right.

The hot tea relieves some of the headache, mainly from the hot water.
ro
Meanwhile, she chatters.  Even if she believes you're unable to understand, you're at least an audience.

Her name means Misfortune, as she's the youngest of seven sisters, and after her came three brothers.  Her father, who was decently well off, was up to his eyeballs in debt by the time he finished paying the dowry for her six older sisters.

Especially as the third born had been 'a greedy piglet. A hundred white camels, come on!'

At this point she serves you veggies and root, plain, and a gamey, but well seasoned meat on a clay plate.

"So thats why I'm out here,  I'm getting my own dowry.  Making the catamaran was hard, after my first boat left on its own,and I nearly got myself burnt in my own fire."

If you'd had to guess, she's seventeen.

And its been an hour, and the headache is still with you, but its lifted substantially.

   Dinner was pretty good.  I've had worse in more civilized settings.  I can go along with being the dumb giant.  During a few investigations, I've done the dumb blonde bit.  There doesn't seem to be much difference, except for less hair tossing now.

   After dinner, I point to my stomach and smile.  Next, I hold up my hand, palm out.  I dig into my pack and pull out a king sized Hershey's chocolate bar.  I break off a corner of it, let her see me pop it into my mouth, smile, then offer the rest of it to Misfortune.

At first she's skeptical, then she's ecstatic.

Given that the best sweet she's had is something honey drizzled, this is a shock to her, and sends her bouncing around the area for five minutes.

She visibly resists the urge to ask for more, and if you offer it, she shakes her head 'no' out of compunction.

"While you rest, I'm going to mine."  She makes charades for you to sleep, and her to pickaxe.  She's actually pretty good at charades.

   Sleep sounds like a good idea.  I find a good spot in her site and put up my two-person trail tent.  Even though I'm kind of out of it, I still remembered to dig the rain trench around the tent.  I unroll the sleeping pad and lay out the sleeping bag.  I don't need the warmth, but the padding is nice.  I put my pack in the spot where the other sleeping bag would go, lay down on my bag, and fall asleep much more quickly than I would have thought possible.

You wake refreshed, and free of brainburn two hours later by your watch. Misfortune is still chipping away for gold as you can hear.

   The nap helped a great deal.  I feel great.  I run a hairbrush through my hair to get rid of the bedhead look, then leave my tent set up with my pack inside of it as I head over to the mine to see if I can be of any help to Misfortune.  I'm still wearing my weapon harness, of course.

She shows you how to mine for gold.  This is easy as the threads and nodules of gold are bright, glittering, and large enough to be quite obvious.

After several more hours, she quits and makes sign for food. Its back to the campfire for stoking it back up.  After that she puts on brown rice, water, and salt to boil.  Served alongside it is a wet, clumpy mass of white something that is kinda like cheese, and kinda like yoghurt.

After dinner, she sings 'The Naming Song' as she calls it.  Its a simple melody which starts with the Lion, the King, and moves on to Girraffe, the Tower, and she sings the first hundred verses.

Night is falling.

"Rest now, giant." She says even as trumpetting calls by some huges beasts saying goodbye to the sun ring out overthe forrest.

   Misfortune is a great hostess.  I'm happy to be able to help her in her quest for a dowry in exchange for food.  I will try to speak again to her in the morning after breakfast, using one word at a time mental transmission.  I got through to her once.  Maybe it will work again.  I also plan to break out a packet of hot chocolate for Misfortune to try.


Edited to add: after breakfast
This message was last edited by the player at 14:44, Sun 13 July 2014.

After breakfast, which is berries, you try your mental thing...

"Misfortune."
She spins her head and looks at you.

And you feel as if something is coming alive in you, some suppressed possibility is becoming active. And this Language, known only as Speech, is in you.

1@1 Mental Transmission Joined with Vocalization?? (Is that what you're doing?)
1@5 The Speech

After a bit you give her hot chocolate.  She spends a minute smelling it, until you inform her its for drinking.
"Oh." She's surprised.
"OH!!"  She wavers between gulping it down, trying not to burn her tongue, and trying to sip is slowly.  "Its so goooooooooood!!" She yells and monkeys and birds join in the racket until something large and not that far away roars in leaf shaking tones.

Then silence.

OOC: Yes. Yes, it is.

   Talking quietly to myself as I try to send it to Misfortune, I say.  "I am Misty. I am a traveler from far away.  It is nice to meet you."  It seems that my first contact procedures go better with some form of chocolate.  But then, what doesn't?

OOC: As my ladywife has called me a chocoholic, I'm hardly in a position to disagree with you on the virtues of chocolate.

"Your strange sounds, I can understand them. That means you were not damaged after all with your earlier sounds.  What is this that you do?"

   What is it that I do?  That is a very good question.  I doubt that I could explain what a Private Investigator does.  As to starship security or bodyguarding or that brief brawl on the War World...  Hmmm...  Was I a mercenary or a meddler?  I only had one answer for her.  "I travel around helping good people."

"So odd." She says softly, and looks sideways at you for a second.
"Misty Helper, I go to my father's house tonight. He will be worried about me. You are welcome in my father's house as guest."
You sense a certain rituality to what she's saying as if it means more than just the words.

"In the meantime, I will mine for eight more hours."

   "I would like to help you mine.  Perhaps you can tell me more of your family while we work."   Learning more of her family before actually meeting them seems like a good idea to me.  One thing bothered me, though.  Given the difference in our sizes, even if I was welcome in her Father's house, would I be able to fit into it.

Her father was not well to do enough to sit in the gates of the city, and discuss the city's rules, but he did all right for himself with his orchards, and sheep herds, and cowherds, and still had ten servants.  Or he had, now he was in hock.

Her mother had the job of keeping tabs on the servants, and kept them working pretty hard.  And she had spoiled the third daughter because that one had looked the most like her.  She was 'hard but fair'.  The richer daughters slipped her money at festivals.

Her sisters were all married, as we custom, before the youngest could get married.  One of them had her husband killed in a giant attack.  Her oldest sister had grandkids, four of them.  Just adorable.

The richest of them was her next oldest sister, who had offered to come up with the dowry for 'little'.  Her husband was a 'far travelling merchant'.

She wants to marry Rillin of the Horses, a great rider, with to listen to her, an incredibly astounding array of abilities.  It takes her a good hour to exhaust the wonders of Rillin.

"I feel sure great-great-great grandpa will bless the union.  After all, there's no reason he won't."  She bites her fingernails.

"And that would make for a stronger union between the two branches of the Patria's family, which would be good for warding off the sons of the serpent."

Then she talks to you of her three younger brothers, fifteen (trouble and chaos, has way too much fun), nine (argues enough to make your head ache), two (the baby of the family and exploiting it for all its worth, hardly never sets foot on the ground).

She also mentions that they do have a guest house for giants in the first orchard.  And that while you won't sleep in town behind the stone walls, you'll have tall wooden palisades between you and the Great Ones and the sons and Neph, well evil ones, outside.

One thing that strikes you is there is no mention of government.  Oh, they talk about talking in the gates, but its more of a suggestion than a command.

And then you hear a crunching noise from the river.

   The PDW seems to leap into my hand as I spin and drop into a Weaver combat stance to cover the area where the sound originated.  Whatever is coming up from the river had better have peaceful intentions, because once I identify whatever it is as a threat, it's going down.  Big, mean giants have their uses.

After a bit, you realize the sound is not getting any closer.  Misfortune has her spear ready.

   I take a few moments to pull down the PDW's front grip, extend the stock, and affix the suppressor.  I also swapped out the twenty round mag for a forty round mag.  If this was going to be a party, I wanted to be fully dressed for it.  "I'll go first to see what is out there."

Gulp. "Ok."

You slip out, silent and smooth, and come to the edge of the burnt area where even now new stalks are rising.  And at water's edge you see a scaled head the size of a mini-van, attached to a snake like body descending into the water.

The head is finishing off the last of the hemp sail.

Lick.

A tongue the size of a kayak comes out, slurps up the last tasty bit, and then the head looks about, leaving bits and pieces of a catamaran.

"One of the Great Ones." Misfortune says sadly from behind you.

Edited.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:47, Tue 15 July 2014.

   I looked at the Great One.  Frankly, my opinion of the critter wasn't all that great at the moment.  I removed the suppressor and otherwise made the PDW holster ready again.  My little SMP wasn't going to do much against it.

   I had a sudden, sinking feeling as I saw the wrecked cat.  "Was that our ride to your Father's house?"

It turns its head, and looks at you with about the intelligence of a dull-witted mouse you'd judge, and deciding that  you're too far away/not tasty it sinks back into the river.  Shortly thereafter you see the rising and sinking humps of its hundred foot long body going down river.

"Yes. I suppose we can use my other dress as a sail if we build another."  She looks like she wants to cry.  "Some of the sons of the serpent worship that thing. They call it the River God.  My next  youngest brother says he's going to grow up to hunt the young ones of the Great Ones because, of course, no one can kill an adult."

   "I'll help you build another one.  I can also help you with the sails.  I have some material that might be serviceable.  Also, I'll try really hard to not let another River God destroy the next one."

   I'm thinking that a .30-06 slug from a scoped hunting rifle into an eye socket might do enough damage to take care of their River God.  Or, there is always the option of a charged particle pistol blast to it's head... from very close range.  One method would require luck... actually, both methods would require luck.  One was just a lot less risky than the other.

She smiles and accepts your offer of material.

"Oh, thats the only one near here.  My mother says they are like little kids with plates of food. Each one must have their own plate or they fight."

She looks about and finds a smallish tree about two feet through, and starts whacking at it with her pickaxe.  Yes, thats just as inefficient as it sounds.

"Should be done in three, no two, with you helping me, hours."  Her word 'hours' doesn't quite mean what you mean.  To her, there are twelve hours in the day, period.  So summer hours are longer than winter hours.

The rifle shot might do, just make sure not to hit its translucent eyelid.  The plasma would be interesting indeed.  Ideally, you'd aim for the bsae of the skull, probably.

   "Hold on.  I might be able to make something that can help."  I removed the folding shovel, also known in some circles as an entrenching tool, from my pack, unfolded it, and began to use the serrated edge of the shovel blade to cut down the a green, straightish branch about three feet long from a tree.

   As I used it, I had to laugh.  My e-tool was about two feet long.  Misfortune wasn't much bigger than that.  I used the e-tool as a machete to knock off the stray branches from the three foot section of green wood, then notched the branch about three inches from each end.  I took my wire saw from the pack and by bending the branch, looped the rings into the notches.  I now had a kitbashed bow saw.

   The saw took a bit of time to make, but it was waaay faster to use than Misfortune's pickaxe technique.


http://www.uscav.com/productin...tid=9237&tabID=1
http://www.uscav.com/productin...id=10075&TabID=1

She stares wide-eyed at the items.

"Are you a daughter of the Forgemaker? I've never seen metal like this."  She's being studiously polite.

She helps you as much as she can in cutting down the tree, but in truth, its just too big for her, and you do most of the work.  Still, its done much quicker than her method.

"We do have bronze saws, but I did not think I would need any on this trip so I left them at home."

She's gathering material to burn the log out, to make a dugout canoe.

   "I don't know this Forgemaker you mentioned.  These are tools from places where I have traveled."  If Misfortune is this awed over a shovel, I'm leaving the Leatherman Multitool in my pack.  When the cutting trees part is over, I recover the wire saw, fold up the e-tool, and put them both back in the pack.

   As we work, I try to explain a bit about myself.  "Among my people, I am what you would call a guardian or warrior.  My job is to do what I can to help those I meet during my travels."

"He is a great and powerful man who taught us how to make iron.  He has founded many cities."

There's not a whole lot of enthusiasm in her voice.

Her awe is more for the metal she explains.  "We have tin, and copper, bronze, and iron.  I do not know what this is."

She blinks.

"But only men make war."

   "My tools are made of steel.  I'm no Forgemaker, but I remember a little bit from school.  Iron has impurities in it, trace elements that keep it from being all it can become.  There are ways to burn out those impurities.  If you would like, I can talk to your local ironmonger once we get to your village about what I know."  I know I don't know everything about making steel, but maybe a few nudges in the right direction could help.

   Then there was this cultural bias problem, but fortunately, it wasn't my problem yet.  "Your world, your rules.  If your culture says only men can make war, I'm all right with that.  But everyone should know how to defend themselves.  I am from a place where everyone can become whatever they want to become.  I chose warrior."

"That would be good.  I know you're a good giant, but while we trade with giants, we don't trust them as we've never met one, until now.  The ironmonger is a man of influence.  His friendship will be valuable to you."

She pauses. "But we are a city, not this strange word, village."

She sets the dugout canoe to be on fire with the rubbing of two sticks.  The smoke forces you both back about ten paces.  And you notice the smoke moves a bit differently in the heavy, dense, oxygen rich air.

"Wouldn't you waste a lot of time?  I mean father is my elder, he's nearly two hundred years old.  He's much wiser than me."

   The fire and smoke were interesting to watch.  If I knew more about physics, I would probably be able to figure out some profound new theory.  But, I'm not a scientist.  I'm me, whatever that means around here.

   I had to smile.  "I don't worry about if I might waste my time.  Having enough time is never a problem for me.  You might say that I have all the time in the world.  If you would rather I spoke with your Father, I will do as you ask."  I like this girl.  If anyone gets a shot at the 'magic metal', she wants it to be her family.

She nods, and after several hours, you've helped her burn out a trunk.

+@1 to Fire Use or Campfire
1@2 to Make a Dugout Canoe

After that, its a relatively easy matter of getting some branches, stripping them of leaves and smaller branches, and putting up mast, and tying on the side floats.

"Now you said something about a sail." She asks as she loads a bag of gold, and her tools, and other gear.

   I went over to my part of the campsite.  I repacked everything except my tent.  I gathered it up in my arms and presented it to Misfortune.  "This should work as a sail."


http://www.majorsurplus.com/Wi...ent-P14835C1956.aspx

She nods, touching the odd to her fabric, and weighing it in her hand, and then smiling.

"Yes it should."

Its not easy getting the heavy dugout into the water. Particularly as one has to keep an eye out for Longtooths (arms wide length, and teeth handspan wide).

One solution suffices for both. Toss a stick on on the water.  It will scare the littler predators, and attract the big one if he is close.

Once on the catamaran, the thing wobbles terribly, Misfortune takes over the sail.

"Float downstream, sail upstream." She says, and the wind catches the improv sail, and seemingly miraculously you start moving.  You're going at less than walking speed against the current.

Meanwhile, in the fairly clear water you can see a profusion of fish.  There are many colors among the small ones, and one of the large ones, a ten foot long tuna slides along benaath you.  And then something bumps the boat.  And a laughing face you've seen before pokes its face up out of the water, a dolphin.

   Before we left, I made some preparations to be able to find this place again.  I took a couple of centavo coins left over from my shopping day with Lily and buried them near the mine as a marker.  If asked, I will say something along the lines of giving a token something back to the Earth in exchange for what it gives us.  I also made mental notes of landmarks visible from the river.  Knowing and marking the location of a gold mine with chunks big enough to pick out with your hands was worth the effort required for possible use in the future.

   I couldn't help but be amazed at the wealth and profusion of life here.  But still, I couldn't make myself relax.  There were just too many things around here with big sharp teeth and empty bellies for me to enjoy the ride.  This was not the place to get distracted.  If I wanted to relax, maybe I could schedule a spa day at one of my next stops.

   I thought about testing the water to see how salty it was, but I decided against it.  Back on my version of Earth, tuna and dolphins were salt water creatures.  That didn't have to be true everywhere I landed.  Also, there was that whole unknown microorganisms in the water thing to be considered.

   "How far away is your village?"

OOC: Guy did an experiment.  Took fresh water fish, added a tiny bit of salt each day to their water for two weeks.  They did fine. Then he put them back into fresh water. They died.  Its all about acclimatization.

It takes her a bit to explain as she keeps trying to go at it in a way that's the low tech equivalent of 'right over there, you can't miss it',  You get the idea of around the bend, and as much distance to the bend, that much beyond it, and you will see its tower.  So, two to four miles.

Your watching eyes spot a wake, and then a long shape.  Thirty feet. Forty feet away.  And then suddenly it dives, and its croc tail flashes above the water for a second of spray that reaches you.

The cat reaches the river bend, and you see a stick and then another stick fly overhead, and splat in the river.

"Sons of the serpent.  They try to attract the River God to eat us."

   Anyone who wishes me enough ill will to be eaten by a river monster, whether it is personal or not to them, has made it personal enough to me.  "Misfortune, how well liked are these guys in your city?  Will anybody miss them if they were to perish suddenly?"  I draw my PDW, affix the suppressor, pull down the front grip, and extend the stock as I ask the two questions.

OOC:  How many of them are there?  How far away are they?

"If they all died, many in my city would be happy."
She's pulling the sail for the opposite river bank, and you watch the leader of the trio of brutes.  He's a man, but his very manner is hideous.  He sprints, leaps up into a tree, breaks off a branch while moving, drops, tucks and rolls and comes up with the branch stripped of leaves, and without breaking stride flings the branch your way.

His two followers are less gifted, but still obviously brutal.

They are twenty five yards away, and five yards up, and darting through trees.

   I take careful aim at the leader, remembering to lead my target and allow for the motion of the boat.  At what I feel is the right moment, I squeeze off a long burst at the Son of the Snake Boss.

He leaps a quarter second before you open fire, and your bullets chew up a pine tree behind him. Startled, he hits the ground and bounces up, and looks at you, face on.  You don't even think, you just shoot.

He goes flying down with five to eight shots in his chest.

One of the others dives for invisibility.  The last does so, but slowly, giving you a chance to get him.

   I aim the PDW at the remaining Snake thug and let the last few rounds fly, then reload with a forty round mag.

Edited to reload.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:37, Thu 17 July 2014.

Its a miss.

But as you sail on up, they keep their heads down.

And two miles later you see a white tower rising above trees, and three hundred yards further, you see a wooden wall made of trunks ten feet through and sixty feet high.  Further on, you see a marble wall of thirty feet in height, and inside it are scattered buildings with much space about them filled with greenery.

There is a small stone dock, and about fifty people trying to crowd onto space for twenty. Many are crying.  They are looking your way.

   I returned the PDW to its holster, once we passed the Snake cultists.  I made a mental note to clean it tonight.

   Looking at the people on the dock, I realized something terrible must have happened.  If that something terrible had involved giants...  "Misfortune, maybe you had better do the talking."

As you get closer, the first thing you notice is how short everyone is.  Most are Misfortune's height, but a few reach three and four feet in height.

Then you see how beautiful and handsome everyone is.

Then you hear all Misfortune's family, parents, uncles, aunts, nieces,  and family friends all upset about Misfortune being gone so long.  Its, ah, very Italian.

They drag Misfortune out of the cat, but you're met with pointed spears by a couple of guys who are so handsome its hard to be mad at them.
  They don'tlet you up on the dock.

   I waited in the cat.  It wasn't as if I had a lot of other options at the moment.  Taking out the relatives is probably a bad idea in both the short and the long term.  "Uhhh...  Misfortune?  A little help here would be good."  I took the time to carefully remove my tent from the mast.  Maybe there was enough left to repair.

She has to yell to get them quiet, and then when they quiet someone else thinks its their time to talk so she has to outyell them, and again, until finally most everyone are quiet, except a few of the older relatives complaining about how rude Misfortune is being.

"Let my friend up."
"She's a giant!!"
"Let my..."
"No..."
"She's a guest."

And suddenly you're being helped up on the dock, not that these 'pixies' can do much to help you as you scramble  out of the rocking catamaran.

A man, all of two feet tall with a beard decorated with precious stone beads, that goes down to his knees reaches out both hands to you.

"Welcome to my house, I am Toothless." And he flashes you a smile that is missing one of hsi front teeth.

   Once on the dock, I shrug into my pack.  With my hands now free, I take both of the offered hands in mine and give Toothless a big smile in return.  "I am called Misty.  Thank you for your kind offer of hospitality to a weary traveler."

Edited for colorization
This message was last edited by the player at 04:13, Fri 18 July 2014.

"So you were born in the mist." He assumes confidently. He leads off the party, and most of the crowd calls him 'father'.  Kids run in advance along the cobblestone road which winds between small houses made of stone slabs like dominoes stacked on edge for sides and roofs.  About half of the houses are two story in part.

Groves of trees, a dozen or less, and gardens break up the city.

About five thousand live here.

Gradually you note that those with white hair move with a cat like grace, including Toothless. One of the kids loses control of a leather ball, and Toothless leaps up six feet to catch it, and toss it back while still airborn.  As scary good as the son of the serpent cult member you shot was, he's better.  He gets ribbed by his wife for showing off.

When you arrive at their house, and the several acres of land they own, its

"Today is a good day for a picnic. Come everyone older than forty and younger than one fifty..." The ladies troop off toward a separate building which has a large chimney.

   Toothless was more right than he was wrong.  To these people, my story of arriving out of nowhere to be of help could very well sound like I had arrived from the mist.  Also, if I died while anyone could see me, that from the mist supposition could become a returned to the mist legend.

   The architecture here is both impressive and puzzling.  How did these little people construct their homes with such massive stone slabs?  That might be worth checking out.  Depending on what they used, maybe I could pick up a couple of new tricks.

   I had already seen an example of their physical agility, but Toothless grabbing the ball was still impressive.  If I had to fight any more of the Snake Cult clowns, my first choice would be phaser, stun, wide beam.

   After the ladies left, I tried to get Toothless apart from the crowd.  "Some Sons of the Snake tried to get us eaten while we were traveling here.  Is there some specific place where I need to go or some person I need to see to report the incident?"

You catch his eyes, and he nods very deliberately to show you he got the message, and then he goes back to talking to everyone.  Once, he's got everyone settled that needs settled, wiped noses, told a wife to apologize to her husband, told the husband to go get his wife some flowers, and told them both to 'quit acting like five  year olds', he kisses his wife on the cheek, whispers in her ear, and then walks off to the side with you.

Its taken about an hour, but some social signal seems to have been passed because no one comes within twenty yards of you two as you stand upon the lawn, and the grownups sit about and gossip while the kids run and play.

By now, you can smell the food cooking, and most of the ladies have come back from the separate kitchen.

"So, Misty, you wish to speak to old Toothless, eh?"
You say your bit, and he nods.
"I will go to the city gates at evening, and tell the greater elders of the city.  Fear not, we all know what a plague and pestilence the sons of the serpent are.  Every year they press on us more and more.  I was nearly fifty before I saw my first one, and now they come to my city to my market to trade they say, but more to spy on  us I say."
He pauses.
"If they wish to hear your words, they will send for you then."
By a look, he inquires if there was anything else, and after that is done, he calls out the name of one of his grandsons, who runs up, the lad seems almost full grown.  He speaks in the lad's ears, and the lad runs off to come back from in the house with a towel wrapped around a long object.
The lad flips over the towel and presents a silver chased scabbard of what would be a sword, but is a curved dagger in your hand.  Its alternating rubies and emeralds along the back edge of the scabbard wink in the sunlight.
"You save a daughter of my house, Misty." Toothless says, his voice heavy with emotion.

   "wow"  I looked at the jewel encrusted dagger.  I had no way of judging the value of it, other than priceless.  I knew what I had to do.  "Thank you for your kind gift, but there is something that is even more valuable to me than this wonderful dagger.  That gift I treasure more than jewels and precious metals is your friendship.  And with that gift, I also offer my friendship in return."

This brings out a lot of hugging,and oaths of friendship.

As twilight falls, a messenger bearing a stick wrapped about with a gold wire comes to you.

"Please, if you would, the counsel of honored elders would like to speak to you in the gate."

So you go, and you see a frustrated Toothless standing.  And indeed, he is poorer than the others for all of them have gold and velvets, and one even has a tunic made of gold, and dripping with sapphires.

But there is another man standing.  He is taller than the rest, but still at four feet he's short.  He is handsome enough, but you get the feeling of that used car dealer who sold lemons to young married couples, and dealt drugs, and had a long list of DUI's and several assault and batteries to his 'credit' but nothing had stuck seriously until you caught him.

Ten elders sit.

"Honored elders, let me reiterate. My friend was attacked.  I would put it down to misunderstanding, and merely ask for weregild, but look you well upon the darts our surgeons drew from his broken body."

He hands around one of your bullets.

"This is the work of the Forgemaker. Who else could make such a thing? And she is of giant blood.  Clearly the giants and the Forgemaker have sent her to foster division between us. They have allied.  We need to stand together even stronger."

   I move to stand before the ten elders.  I've had to testify in enough court cases to know how these things work.  What!  Do you think I shoot everybody?  Ummm... don't answer that.  "I request permission to address this council that I may clarify the matter being brought before you."

   Once the permission is granted, I continue.  "I am called Misty.  I an a traveler, new to the area.  I do not know this man standing before you, but I am afraid that he is not in possession of all the facts of this case.  He has neglected to tell you that three of his Sons of the Serpent friends were throwing branches into the river to attract the attention of the local river monster.  His people were trying to kill us to put it more plainly.  I do not know your local codes, but it is a universal truth that when you are attacked, you are allowed to defend yourself."

   I pulled out my badge and gave it to the council to examine.  "In my homeland, I am a lawgiver.  This badge is my proof that I am empowered by the ruling council of my home to enforce the laws of the community to protect the weak and innocent by bringing lawbreakers to justice.  I gave an oath to protect the weak and innocent.  Even though I am far away from my home, my oath is still strong.  That badge is my reminder of that oath."

   This bozo addressing the council was swinging for the fences.  Let's see if I can strike him out.  "As I have stated, I am a traveler new to the area.  I do not know this Forgemaker or these giants that he has spoken of.  As to the little darts he holds, they are called bullets.  They are thrown from special little machines that I brought with me.  These machines are lawgiver weapons from my home council."

   "As to this claim of weregild, I assume that it is a type of money paid to an unjustly injured party.  Since his people were initially trying to kill us, that would make us the injured party.  Since neither of us were injured, no moneys need to be exchanged."

   I spoke directly to the tall bozo.  "I am sorry that your friends forced me to defend myself.  The loss of any life saddens me, even your little losers.  But listen and listen well, Cuddles.  If your little freak show morons attack me again, I will defend myself again.  And I am very good at defending myself."

   I turned back to address the council.  "Do you have any questions?"

Edited to finish post...  stupid laptop.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:15, Sat 19 July 2014.

"Speak, friend of Misfortune."

They listen with a variety of looks ranging from downright distrustful to skeptical.

"She's a giant, naturally violent." Cuddles interjects, and one of the elders sternly instructs him to be quiet, so there is no love lost between the elders and Cuddles even as they agree with the sentiment.

"We agree that the Law exists as you say it does." Says one elder.

You go on to hand out your badge which they examine closely.  Its clear none can read it, nor do they think to read it.  Of course, you are speaking The Speech,and its oddly natural to your tongue.

"Oh, she's just.."
"Silence!!"
Cuddles shuts up.

You speak again.
"How is it that you know not the Forgemaker? His fame is gone out through all the Earth? He murdered his brother, and now limps?"

"I would claim weregild for my daughter was put in fear of her life." Toothless says.  They treat his point far kinder than either of yours.

When you talk to Cuddles, he looks at you with intent to hopefully kill, to engage in a little recreational murder one day.

"He is not dead. Merely gravely injured. Perhaps you are not the warrior you think you are." Cuddles sneers.

The council would like to see your weapon demonstrated.

   I smiled sweetly at Cuddles.  "If I were you, Sweetie, I would pray that I never got the chance to find that out for myself."

   I directed my next words to the council.  "I will demonstrate my weapon to the council alone.  This defender of assassins has no right or need to know of these things.  We will need a private place with a sturdy backstop and something to use as a target."  I gestured at Cuddles.  "Perhaps this one would like to volunteer?  But if not, some other large, breakable object of little value would work as well."

They take you to a small hill just outside the outer wooden wall of the city.  Its the city dump.  There are a number of decent targets scattered about, including some half broken, large clay pots.

   After making sure that Cuddles is nowhere around, I pull out my old standby, the Glock 17.  I eject the mag and thumb a 9 mike round into my palm.  "This weapon is representative of the way my weapons operate."  I display the cartridge.  "This sends the small dart forward into the target."  I display the magazine.  "This holds the small dart launchers in position."  I replace the cartridge into the mag and the mag back into the Glock.  "You might want to stay back here.  It can be loud if you're not used to it."

   I selected a firing point for a clay pot about twenty-five meters away.  As I took the few steps toward it, I covertly jacked a round into the chamber.  They didn't need to know everything.  "And here we go."  I aimed and slowly fired several rounds into ever smaller the pot fragments.  I covertly flipped the safety on, then holstered the Glock.  I took a few moments to pick up the empty cartridge cases.  "Any other questions?"

They look at each other, and then one of them speaks.

"No, Misty, that answers all our questions.  You have behaved with courtesy, and let us see there is something new in this world, a decent giant. Welcome to our city."

You later hear that Cuddles was charged a pound of gold for frightening Misfortune.

   I swapped a fresh mag of niners into the Glock to replace the one partially spent during the demonstration as I walked back to Misfortune's home.  I tucked the partial mag into my pocket to be refilled later when I had a few moments to myself.

   Overall, I think it went fairly well.  I got a close look at what looks like is going to be my enemy here.  I made friends with Misfortune's family.  The town council seems to be favorably disposed towards me.  Not a bad day so far...

When you get back there, they already know. The grapevine in this city is efficient.

Misfortune takes you beyond the stone wall to an orchard, and a wooden house fit for giants.

She lights several oil lamps, small things, made of clay that will last most of the night.

   I examined the house with an eye toward securing it, windows, doors, and so on.  It didn't pay to take unnecessary chances.  Cuddles wasn't the type to live and let live.  Unfortunately for him, I'm not always the type, either.

   I took a few minutes to clean my MP7A1 and Glock 17 and top off their mags.  I take care of them and they take care of me.  It's worked out well so far.  I saw no reason to change the arrangement on my end.

   The bed... ok glorified cot... looked inviting after sleeping outside, but that wasn't going to happen tonight.  I unrolled my sleeping pad and placed my sleeping bag on top of it.  I stuffed the bag with my tent and some other stuff to make it look as if I were in it, then pulled an uncomfortable looking chair into a dark corner.  I affixed the suppressor to the PDW, put a forty round mag in the weapon, and checked to make sure that there was a round chambered and the selector was set to full auto. Once everything else was ready, I blew out all of the oil lamps but the one on the far side of the room.  I sat down to spend a long night waiting for something to happen.

About an hour past midnight, you hear clambering on the wall of your guest cabin.  And then a good ten foot long snake writhes in the air as it plummets to your bed. Once it hits, it rears up, and begins tosway back and forth. And with its IR, the spreaded hood snake is not tricked by your blanket roll.

   I trigger a long burst at the snake.

Your rattling burst tears the snake into two, both halves flapping and twtitching.  The back end on your bed, and the front end with its convulsively opening and closeing mouth.

+@1 Shooting.

   "Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrap!!!" I screamed out loud as I tapped a couple of rounds into the snake's head.  I don't know what made me madder, Cuddles trying to kill me or my blowing snake guts all over my sleeping bag.  Either way, sleeping in that bed was soooo not happening tonight.

   I swapped out the mag and headed outside.  Whoever left me this Unwelcome Wagon gift might have stayed around to retrieve his package.  Who knows, he might have even tried to watch and I might have hit him with some rounds from my burst.  I needed to go see.  I put on my Multivisor and set it to IR, then stepped out into the night.

With the IR, its easy to spot the fellow climbing down the outside of your wooden cabin....

He seems to be alone.

You shoot him, and he falls.  And falling he cries out something.  And then there is a wind that shakes your cabin, and knocks  you down to one knee.  And the man is gone.

   After I check to make sure the snake is still there, I set off to find Misfortune's Father and let him know what happened.

You wake the couple. And he takes you out to the hearth, while she fetches the tea 'pot', and warms it at the hearth while listening gravely as does her husband although he is lighter in manner.

After he listens, he shakes his head sadly.

"Wake oh, a hand, and..."
"Yes, Papa."

And so his wife wakes five of her sons to go and check out the grounds, and the cabin, and clean up the snake as well as they can in the midst of the night.

To you, the room is tight, and you can't stand upright.  And you had to enter the largest door your hands and knees.

"You are not familar with this land, Misty.  When I was a child, I had heard of them, but my father's father's father had moved far, and it was not until I was fifty that I met my first one.  He was beating a donkey nigh to death, and the men of my town took him, and beat him, and sent him away.

Now, across the river is a city of theirs, where a city of ours used to stand.  Everyone says it died of plague, but no one believes this in their heart.

The honored elders of the city will counsel you to leave, and go far.  There are cities at the edge of the known lands that have not felt the polluting presence.  They will give you gold, and a clay tablet naming you friend if you but flee before this hatred and rage.

   I thanked the family for helping to clean up the mess.  I looked more closely at my sleeping bag.  I carefully peeled the protective cover from the bag to find that none of the snake guts actually penetrated to the bag itself.  I asked Misfortune if they could wash the protective cover while I went to see the Elders of the City.

   I listened to the Council's offer.  I even considered it for the briefest of moments.  I took a deep breath.  "Esteemed members of the council, a very wise man from my home, a Man of God and a protector of others, Martin Luther King Jr., once said 'Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.'"

   "Yesterday, I spoke of my being a lawgiver.  That has not changed.  Yesterday I spoke of my oath to protect others.  That also has not changed.  Last night some evil people tried to kill me.  I know who is responsible.  You know who is responsible.  You offered me gold and a pass of safety to flee somewhere safe.  This I cannot do."

   "There is no safe place from evil.  Untold numbers of your friends and countrymen would tell you that if they could.  But they cannot, for they have perished from that very evil which faces us today.  The dead cannot cry out for justice.  It is a duty of the living to do so for them.  It is the duty of a protector to do for them.  It is my job.  It is also your job, for every being must do what he can to protect others.  A man named Edmund Burke said it better than I.  'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.'"

   "I have learned of a city across the river, of how it was and how it is now.  I am going across that river to find that city.  I don't know what I'll be able to accomplish, but I have to do something.  Burke also said, 'No one could make a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little.'  I am going to do what I can, what I must, what is my duty."

   I stood there waiting.  I didn't know what I was expecting, but I was waiting.

The cover of your sleeping bag, and the sheet on the bed contained the spill.  Misfortune is happy to clean it for you.

She tells you that her gold pleased the goldsmith with its quality, and he gave her a good price.

"I have not yet my dowry, but I am close, and several of my sisters have given me, even 'greedy piglet' has sent me four of her young calves of fine white camels.  Father too, gave me the pound of gold taken from the one you call 'Cuddles', which is a very strange name for I would rather cuddle a porcupine than him."

==============

As you talk to the council, there is something a bit off about how they act.

Your first paragraph of your speech has them crinkling their faces in study.  And before you go on, you are halted.  They talk to each other, and you see a few enlightened expressions, and then it spreads, and they're nodding and grinning.

You hear some thoughtful points on the limits of power, but finally one of them quotes..."Am I my brother's keeper?"  And they look troubled by turns, and angered by turns as you mention the unjustly dead.  One of them stands, and rips his very expensive tunic in half.

There is much discussion, its quick, and lively, and very intelligent.  But you finally get what's off.  They don't see themselves as a Council, as a governing body.  They advise, suggest, ask, but none of them think they have a right to demand except as masters of their own houses to those in their houses.

Finally, after an hour, one stands.

"Misty, we will ask Toss and Silence to accompany you.  Both are young men of a hundred or so years of age, and thus skilled in war."

A few minutes later, two guys come to the council summoned by the messenger.
"I am called Toss, for I invented this."  He shows you an at-atl, a spear thrower.  The other, you suddenly realize he's wandered off and sat down thirty feet away.  Even from here, you can feel the quiet, the stillness.  If a man could jump into a pond and make no ripples, this is the man.

Second post...

In a FB arguement I quoted you.

 "I have learned of a city across the river, of how it was and how it is now.  I am going across that river to find that city.  I don't know what I'll be able to accomplish, but I have to do something.  Burke also said, 'No one could make a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little.'  I am going to do what I can, what I must, what is my duty."

Someone was arguing that since God is infinite, we can know nothing of him.

Thanks, I hope this was okay.

OOC:  Why would I be upset that you thought enough of what I wrote to use part of it in an another circumstance?

   This was good.  I had some help, locals trained in their form of warfare.  I had a scout and Toss.  I made Toss as the local version of what we used to call an eleven-bangbang.  This scout guy moves like smoke, silently fading into the background.  I wonder if he would mind a nickname...

   "Hello, guys.  My name is Misty.  Before we get started, I'll answer the questions you are probably thinking.  Yes, I am a giant.  Yes, I am a female.  And, yes, I am a warrior.  Since that is settled, here is the mission.  We are going on a long hunting trip.  I need you to get what you need for an extended stay away from home and meet me at the Giant's house in the orchard.  I'm talking about weapons, food, sleeping gear, whatever.  I will do the same.  See you soon."

   I headed off to find Misfortune's house.  I needed to gather the rest of my gear and ask for what for them would be a large amount of dried food.

Toss comes back with a leather bag strapped to his waist, and ten spears of varying sizes on his back, and several spear throwers, and a bronze khopesh sword.  Silence, you realize has been standing next to you for a bit.  He has a very small bag tightly strapped to his waist, a similar sword, and a pair of darts.an
0
Both men move well.  They don't have the raindrop rolling down a windshield grace of Toothless, but a hundred years in good health is plenty of time to learn how to not stumble over your sandals.

Toss seems enthused by the adventure, and dilligent to make sure everything is ready. He's clearly done this before, and enjoys it. Silence just seems calm.

You're loaded up with jerky of goat, and auroch, and venison, along with dried fruits in slices.  Since this is not supposed to be noised about, Feather, Toothless' wife (so named for an unfortunate cowlick that stands up like a feather at the back of her head), orders her children to let you go on alone and not to follow you to the dock or wherever.  So you get lots of weeping and forced promises 'you will be safe, right?" at the house.

   I thanked Feather profusely for the help and prepped for the trip.  I reassembled the bedroll.  I refilled the PDW mags.  I dug the extra three 40 round mags for the PDW out of the pack and added them to the double mag pouches on my belt.  I usually didn't carry all six because they were relatively heavy.  The extra reloads would probably be needed this run.  I left the short double mag pouch with the two twenty round PDW mags in the pack.

   I needed the extra space in my pack.  I was about two dried berries shy of overstuffing my pack.  The pack would get roomier as the food got eaten.  I looked over my preparations.  I was as ready as I was going to get.

   Saying goodbye was difficult.  I hate having to lie to little kids.  I'm soooo not good at it.  The best that I could do was gather the kids together to talk to them, "I am a warrior.  Warriors go places that are not safe.  That is what they do.  I do promise to be as careful as I can.  Now scoot on home."

   I did lie to the kids when I told them that I would be careful.  Careful would have been taking the gold and moving on.  Careful would have been going back and working the gold mine for additional traveling funds.  I am not careful.  I learned a long time ago that when most people ran away from trouble, I ran towards it.  It is why I was a military cop.  It is why I became a Private Investigator.  It is what I do as a verser.

   I was finally able to get Toss and Silence alone to talk with them.  "Guys, I need to tell you the truth.  The plan is to go after the Snake cultists across the river.  Ideally, the leader dies, their city gets destroyed, and the rest fade away into the jungle.  This is probably going to be a one way trip.  I understand having second thoughts about going with me.  You didn't sign up for a suicide mission.  You have lives here.  If you want to remain here to protect your city, I understand.  I will make it right with the council for you.  You need to decide what you want to do."

Toss gapes at you, and you can see him picking up his courage, and gathering it to himself.  Silence just stares at you with unreadable eyes.

The two discuss things, and you can see both leaning toward going, but at the same time uncertain, when Silence says....

"We ask."
"Oh, yes, that is good."

And to your surprise they ask you to come with them to the five story tower in the center of the city.  Its well lit by wide windows, and a man is sitting on a stone bench by the door, just inside the door.

"Ask for us, should we go to war?" Toss says.  The mad nods, and rises to his feet, and begins to sing.  He has an excellent, well trained voice, and you quickly realize its a form of prayer.

Then he stops and sits.  They both give him a small gift for which he thanks them before putting it in a bag behind the block of stone bench.

A few minutes pass...

   I wait for the response.  I don't even know enough to ask the right questions, let alone understand the answers.  This is a manifestation of their faith or a giant Magic 8 Ball or something else.  Silence and Toss think this is important whatever it is, so I do as well.

A shadow passes from overhead and goes over Silence.  You look up and see an eagle with an eight foot wingspan flying low over the square in front of the temple.  The bird circles back around, and again the shadow goes over Silence.  At the singer's urging, Silence walks across the xquare and back, and the eagle keeps its shadow over him as well as it might.

"The eagle is the bird of war."  The singer says, and Silence nods.

"And what of me?" Asks Toss. A dove flutters out of the sky,  lands on his foot, and squirts out every statue's favorite decoration.

Toss is angry, and he demands a new try, or a better answer.  The singer shrugs, and turns his back on Toss who seems to be wanting to punch the guy's lights out.

   I walked over to Toss.  "This is not your fight.  This does not mean you are not a warrior.  It just means that your fight is another time.  There is no dishonor in this."  I wanted to tell him to never ask a question that he really didn't want answered, but I went with leaving well enough alone, for once.

   I turned to Silence.  "They are expecting some form of retaliation because of their actions.  We're going to disappear into the woods for a while.  When they let their guard down because they think we're gone, we strike."  I knew of a place not too far away with an established campsite and something to keep me busy while we waited.

Toss offers one of his atl-atls, and he really looks distraught, trying to fight back tears.

Silence and you take one of the city's fishing boats across, and the fisherman takes it back, with a handshake for the both of you.

With Silence leading you drift into the woods, avoiding creatures both humongous and large.  He's got some woods skills, but he's not so much a hunter.  He surprised you one time by saying he prefers making pottery, but that this is fitting because just this morning he had made the very best pot he had ever made.

You arrive at the gold mine, and find it undisturbed.  With that, you spend a couple days mining.  In that time, you count, and Silence says twenty-seven words more in the whole two days, if you count, hmmms, and hunhs.  Its almost like you're camping by yourself.

   I've heard maxim which says that silence is golden.  I've heard "Silence is Golden," The Tremeloes remake hit from a Four Season's B-side release.  This Silence, however, was getting to be a bit annoying.  Still, too few words were better than too many.

   I showed Silence how the Glock worked, but I didn't fire it.  I figured that he had earned the right to know about my stuff by taking on this mission.  He totally understood my not wanting to make loud noises to give ourselves away.  Go figure.

   I explained to Silence that as a traveler, I needed to occasionally replenish my operational cash.  Local coins don't always have value when traveling, but precious metals and gems could be traded for needed supplies almost anywhere.  I explained that this interlude to lull the Snake Cult would also offer me a chance to get paid for this run.  I asked Silence what he thought would be a fair payday for this run.

He's not as mechanically inept as the elflord on warworld, but this is clearly the most complicated device he's ever seen, or heard of before.  But despite your superior understanding, you realize something kinda annoying.  Not only is he handsome as a model, but he's probably a genius.  Although he thinks of himself as normal.

Still, it takes a good bit of persuasion to convince him that money has value on its own, without being made of gold.

"We make coins to make it easy to count the gold, so as to not have to weigh it all the time. Money as money is madness."

He's happy to help you dig for gold, and you're able to gather about three pounds with him getting two pounds.

The burnt out area where the cat was built is now covered in ten feet of fresh growth.

You wake up the third morning to see a forty pound raccoon opening up your backpack....

   I quickly spun the suppressor onto the PDW and let the furry, masked bandit have a three round tap from the little SMP.  I also checked about to make sure that our camp thief was working alone.  I wondered if Silence considered racoons to be good eating.

Braaap! And one dead bandit is beheaded.  Silence leaps to his feet from across the fire, his sword out, his eyes wide, looking for a threat.  Someone runs away in the trees, and by the sounds of it, the first bandits confederate in crime.

Silence then sees the raccoon, and he sets out to gather the proper mushrooms, and leeks, and greens for a stew.

   I replaced the three spent rounds in the PDW mag.  I then checked my pack to see what, if anything, our future dinner's greedy ingredient had gotten into and ruined.

   I spoke with Silence to try to get some idea of how he fought.  I also let him know that we would be heading out to Snakeville in two days.  That should give us enough time to let the bad guys settle down.

The backpack seems opened, but lies as yet undisturbed.

Silence shows you his skills with sword and spear.  He knows how to sneak up on someone and strike them from behind, and how to fight up front.  He's a skilled warrior with his bronze sword.

   I let Silence know that I'm very impressed with his ability to move quietly.  I ask him if there are any tips he could share that might help a giant to move quieter.

   I also let him know that his raccoon stew was delicious.  I had never considered raccoons to be a food source, but then there are a lot of animals currently in that category.  Exotic animal menu planning wasn't one of my strong suits.  Then again, neither are my cooking skills, even with real food.

He thinks for a long while, and then he sits down cross-legged in front of you.

"Your spirit is noisy."

He then gets up, and beckons you to follow him.  He takes you out to a small clearing, and carefully checks the ground, with precise care until he finds what he wants.

"Lay down." He hands you two pieces of meat. "When an animal will come to you, and eat from your hand, then..."

With that, he lays down himself, and its like you're alone even tho' he's five feet away.

   Even though I had no idea of why I was doing this, I laid down with a piece of meat in each hand.  I tried to center my essence with some breathing exercises, but in the clearing, at least to me, it sounded like a heavy rush of wind.  I tried to breath slower, and easier to empty my mind in order to quiet my noisy spirit.

   I laid there calm... peaceful... waiting...

   Z-Z-Z-Z-Z

He wakes you up by the tried and true method of a long grass stem (thus out of the offended party's range) tickling under the nose.

"I see you trying to relax, but even your relaxing is hard work."

The second time he wakss you...

"Your dreams are like violent winds."

   "My dreams are like violent winds?  What does that mean?"  I'm guessing that quiet class is about over and I'm not getting a passing grade as yet.  I can live with that.  Still, it might have been nice to have enough skill to be able to sneak up on your own shadow.

He makes a face, shakes, waves a hand in a motion vague akin to firing a gun, mimes horror on his face...."This is you in your sleep.  I sensed no darkwing overshadowing you, so it comes from your own unquiet heart."

Yep, he's still on being quiet.  He's just trying a different angle.

   "Let's pretend that I'm a big dumb giant..."  I smiled at Silence.  "Because I really feel like one right now.  How do my dreams affect my being able to move quietly?  And, what exactly is a darkwing?"  I wondered if it was any relation to Darkwing Duck.   I doubted that it was, but I still wondered about it.

"Perhaps I teach wrongly.  Others know means of being quiet in the land, of stepping carefully, of watching, of moving slowly.  I do this, but also, I am at peace, at rest, even when I sleep.  I do not push against the world, nor strive vigorously, but simply act as I must, with caution.

The fires in your heart, the fears, the rages, all this makes your dreams unquiet.  Perhaps memories as well.  But all this makes you loud in the world."

Its the most words he's said.

"I now teach you the other's way. How to step soft."

"The darkwing is what took your assasin away.  They are said to be glorious, and full of fire, with wings as black as night, and a crown of molten gold on their heads.  They are beautiful, and can enchant mortal women with but a word.  But you must know this for your father or grandfather was one."

And if little mister fashion model says they're beautiful....

   "That explains it.  I've spent my whole life as an adult fighting for what I think is right and protecting others who need help.  My dreams are fierce because my life is fierce.  That is what I do.  That is who I am.  That being said, I would like to learn your ways of moving quietly."

   There was still one question which bothered me.  "About the Darkwing, what makes you think that my Grandfather or Father was a Darkwing?"  I think my Grandfather was a Mason and my Father belonged to the VFW.  As to being a Darkwing, I'm fairly sure that having black wings and a molten gold hat would have eventually come up as conversation during Thanksgiving dinners.

He spreads his hands as if to say 'well that explains it' to both your dreams and the unquiet.  He nods affirmatively to your request for ordinary teaching.

"You are a giant. Not a large one so....grandfather?"

Later he sleeps, and the next day wakes to heat up the raccoon stew, and to laze about the campfire.

   "My Grandfather's Grandfather was about the same size as I am.  Almost everyone in my family is as big as I am.  A lot of them are bigger."

   In the morning, I ask Silence, "Are you ready to get this show on the road?  I'm thinking we take a careful look at the approaches to the city.  That will tell is the best way to plan our assault."

He looks confused, then shrugs acceptingly.

He rises, and leads off.  The trek takes you up to the granite hill, and to its back edge four hundred yards off.  The last half is thorn laden boysenberry bushes.  But once you get to the edge, you can see from the rear cliff the enemy city four miles away.

A small river runs to the left of the walled city.  You see houses more splendid than in Misfortune's city, and huts.  You see farmland, but fewer orchards.

"Every day they work there, except for the seventh." He sounds disgusted and pitying.

He points out a path that runs by mangroves and bamboo and under Spanish moss.  It runs to a wide spot in the river.

"Fish." He says.

In the center of town is a statue of a serpent hung around a tree.

You can see burned spots around the town.

   I dug the Multivisor from my pack and set it to telescopic.  I looked at the town carefully.  After a few minutes, I offered the visor to Silence for him to take a look for himself.

People spring into view, and ...

1. Fishing kids down by the wide spot in the river.
2. Struggling workers pulling a plow.
3. One damaged aurochs pulling plow, being whipped.
4. Three women standing near the gate in what is recognizable as the second oldest profession.
5. A guy in stocks. Back whipped.
6. Several huge guys, if scale is right, ten feet tall, near the center of town.  They twig your 'thug alert' sense.
7. One house is covered with gold filigree, and has several workers fixing its exterior.

Silence takes it curiously, and after looking, spits to the side.

   I took back the Multivisor, powered it off, and returned it to my pack.  "It's just a tool to let you see farther and more clearly.  Like any other tool, how it is used is a choice of the user, for helping or for harming."

   I moved away from the edge of the granite hill, to avoid attracting any attention.  "I think the fancy gold building needs to be investigated tonight.  What can you tell me about the huge guys in the center of town?"

"Your kin, giants."

   My head was starting to hurt from having to explain the same thing over and over.  "I am a visitor, a traveler just passing through.  I have no kin here, even if we are similar in size.  Are you kin with every thinking being your size?"

   I took a slow breath, then let it out slowly.  "Let's go get some rest.  Tonight is going to be busy."

He blinks, looks thoughtful, then nods yes.

He's quite willing to take you back, and rest.  He spends the day relaxing by the campfire, whittling sticks with the part of his sword nearest the hilt which seems designed for working knife use, sharpening his blade, napping, taking a shower, praying, more napping.

There is no sense of him being subversive, of him being lazy, and going against cultural norms.  This seems normal by his manner, and you recall the disgust he had when he spoke of how hard the people in the Serpent city worked.

   I spent the day cleaning and checking my weapons.  I borescoped the hunting rifle to make sure the scope had not become misaligned during my travels.  I had a feeling that long ranged sniper fire might come in handy tonight.  I also checked the phaser and the blaster over.  They had helped me before.  I expected to need them again tonight.  Somehow, I also managed to get some rest.

   Finally it was about that time.  I ate a peanut butter meal bar.  I gave a chocolate chip meal bar to Silence.  I took a swig of water.  It was time to go.

As you eat the peanut butter bar, you realize from Silence's face again that there is nothing like this here, and you're burning irreplaceable, in this world resources.

He rises to his feet, like he's on wires, and slips out of camp.  He takes it slow so you can keep up, and still be quiet.  First, its up to the cliff face, and in your IR scan you see most everyone is gone to bed, but there are guards on the walls, at least eight, maybe nine.  One of them a giant.

You spot something huge in the river, and by its shape, its a brontosaur.  Its drinking from the river, a hundred gallons at a gulp.

Silence leads you down the cliff, through a cinammon grove, which you can tell from the scent, if not by sight. And now you're down at the edge of one of the cleared fields where there are long lines of growing plants.

"Shortsighted brutes."

There is an altar halfway up the field. On it are the bones of a human, much scattered.

"Calling the Serpent's blessing on the fields."

OOC: Much cooler name than Apatosaur, and Pluto is a planet!!

OOC:  Pluto is better as a planet than Roman ruler of the underworld or Micky's dog.  It's also a whole lot better than Pluto Nash.

   I took another IR scan to make sure that things were as good as they were going to get.  I wasn't worried about Silence.  He was good at what he did.  I wasn't too sure about me, though.  This is waaay outside my comfort zone.  Sure, I was in the Army, but I was Military Police not Combat Infantry.  Covert operations weren't normally a part of my bag of tricks.  Now taking down bad guys...

   I wasn't concerned with trying to bring down the whole Snake Cult brotherhood.  The group was too well entrenched for that.  All I wanted was their smarmy little local leader's head on a platter.  It didn't even have to be a big platter or a fancy platter, just a platter.

   Looking at the alter, I set my resolve to see this through.  These cultists did human sacrifice.  I checked the phaser, setting it on wide beam heavy stun... just in case.  I whispered to Silence, "Let's do this."

One guy comes out from behind the wall, and joins the others on the wall.  But that's the only change other than small movements.

You slip over the fields, startle a root seeking rodent, and come up to the wall without being spotted.

   I motion to Silence that we start moving around the wall counter-clockwise to try to find a way inside.

By hand signals, he warns you that the warm rock of the wall will be attractive to snakes, so keep an eye out.  You spot several as you go that way, one's a pure black specimen twenty feet long with a bulge in its stomach the size of a rabbit.

Another, a mere ten feet long gives you a warning rattle as you approach, and so looking up to check for guards, you give him his personal space and loop around him, and back to the wall.

This city, unlike yours, does not have an exterior wooden palisade, but its more densely packed as yours is quite spacious.

Happily, you hear no barking dogs.

And you come to a gate on the river side (which water is two hundred yards away) with a track heading down to the river.  The gate is made of timbers suited to discourage a brontosaur, along with six inch thick 'spears' affixed to it.  Even still, the bronto could go through it, but the twenty four inch thick timbers, rough hewn, are a bit much for you to punch through.

On the plus side, since everyone is so short, their gate is only ten feet tall.

   I wouldn't be surprised to find guards at the gate, so I silently convey the message that I will lift Silence up to take a quick look over the gate to avoid surprises.

Silence nods, and you lift him.  He looks over the gate, and points directly down on the middle of the gate, twice, and then for good measure holds up two fingers.

You hear a murmur of a voice through the gate, and smell spiced meat.

   I lower Silence quietly to the ground.  I point to the gate and then hold up two fingers.  Next I hold my left arm up by my forehead palm parallel to the ground and my right hand by my waist palm parallel to the ground, then point at Silence.  I repeat the same hand gestures, but point to myself this time.  I wait for his answer.

He points to himself, and then to the gate.

   I take a few breaths to center myself, then move to the front of the gate and reach out with my mind to touch another on the far side of the gate.  When I make the connection, I'll send out a mental pain spike to hammer the guard.

It takes you several tries to get the first guy, with failed attacks, and him shrugging off some of the attacks.

"I've got a headache coming on." You hear him whisper.  And then the sliding, thumping sound of him going down the gate and hitting the ground.

Then you hit the other guy and fail, and hit him again, and he's out like a light.

You're trembling and dripping sweat from the strain of it.

    "That went well..."  Actually, it didn't, but at least they were down.  I took a couple of moments to rest.  It wasn't as if I had much of a choice.  I was pretty beaten up my my own use of powers.

   When I was able, I boosted Silence over the gate, then looped my belt over the top of the gate to pull myself over.  I took a few moments to make sure the guards wouldn't ever wake up, then stashed the bodies out of the way.

With a bit of rest, you're back up to ready.  The Verse is a great gym.  It keeps you in good health when its not trying to kill you.

With the 'spears' which might make it hard for bronto, its easy for you to go  up and over.

After disposing of the two, you notice one thing, there are no dogs.  In fact, there were no dogs in the other city either.  It makes what you're attempting a lot easier.

You slip on down the streets toward the main house, and here you notice litter in the street, and poop as well.  The acrid scent leads you to another scent, that of a freshly murdered corpse stashed behind someone's house.  He's been stabbed repeatedly.

You walk on forward, and suddenly Silence freezes and becomes like wood.  And ahead, over his shoulder, you can see the giant Serpent statue in the tree, and its almost like its looking at you....

   I slowly slipped the phaser out and set it to disrupt.  I don't know exactly what it is, but if it attacks, I'm going to do my best to kill it before it gets us.

The solid stone granite snake head, the size at its widest being six feet, gets wider as the neck flares, and it sways.  And then the whole snake statue, all forty to fifty feet of is dropping from the tree with a ground-rumbling thump you feel in your feet.

It raises itself up, and you can taste a putrid green, and see a mind, old and potent, and filled with a ravenous contempt for Humanity.

::Tasty, little verser.  Its been eons since I ate one of your kind.::

And you can see in its mind, its living in another universe until that universe died of old age, and then coming to this new universe at the request of the residents, this new young place, and finding fools willing to sacrifice to it is a very great happiness to it.

   "Close enough."  I may not be Indy Jones, but I still am not fond of snakes.  I triggered the phaser at the snake.

It lunges, and you catch it full face on with your beam set on disrupt.  The shrilling cry of the phaser doesn't seem to slow it, and Silence leaps to the side striking with his bronze sword, but too slow, and the snake flicks its head, and smashes him across the street into the wall of a building with a clearly broken arm.

You fire again, at close range, and its face glows for a half second, but then it lunges into you, and you dive to get under it, but not quite enough so that it scrapes the length of your body.

Ever had road rash? Well, now you do, from left knee to left shoulder, and much of that arm.

Its above you, about five feet above the ground.

   I kicked in my boosters and rolled to the side.  The pain diminished as the powerful chemicals from the nano pumps coursed through my bloodstream.  I released the phaser as my hand darted for the charged particle blaster.  I could pick it up later, where ever that place turned out to be.

It thumps down, crushingly, but too slow as you roll aside in a blur, the sounds of the world coming strange to your ear as the pumps flood your body with chemicals.  Your plasma gun is suddenly in  your hand, and the snake head turns to you and you fire without thought ripping a ten foot long scar across the top of its head, just grazing it.

And you fire again, taking a bit more time to aim, and crater its face.

And it sinks one of its spear sized fangs into your leg, and other chemicals hit your bloodstream. You feel your heart....stop. Ka-thump, ka....just nothing.

"Out of your skin which you will shed as you die with arise a new you, a you that will serve me willingly."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a swaying Silence regain his feet, sword in hand.

   As the fang sinks into my leg, I trigger the blaster into it's open mouth.

It explodes.

Chunks of granite fly everywhere.

You wake tied to a chair.  Your tools are sitting on a table ten feet in front of you.

Cuddles is in the large room along with at least four others, and he's furious.  He's slapping some guy in the face, repeatedly.

Silence is to your left.  He's still unconscious.

There is a fireplace that is wide and lit, eight torches with gold reflecting mirrors, and blocky, geometric wall designs in bright colors.

+@1 to Pain Spike, Stealth, and Shooting.

   Well, I'm still here.  I'm not sure yet if that is a good or a bad thing.  I'm relatively sure that I will find out which it is in a very short time.  I called out, "It must be so hard to get good help these days."

He points to one of the others, and then back to the man being slapped.
The other begins to drag the man out.

Cuddles turns to you, and smiles.
"Actually, yes. A dumb servant does no good, but a too smart one may spend most of his time plotting against you. Which brings us to you..."

He walks over to you, and points to your thigh.

"Just before you shot him, the Great Serpent, bit you in the leg.  As expected, your heart ceased, but no cunning fake of you appeared.  And then, your body twitched, and you came back t life.  But you were badly bloodied, and so I called for one of the Forgemaker's priests to see if he could heal you.

And lo, he could for he said you had the blood of giants, and even carried thing like the Forgemaker would desire to make so he was able to save you.  And now I realize, Misty, but you'ree one of us."

You do see the wound looks looks a couple weeks old.

   I look about to see the kind of chair to which I'm attached.  I also looked at my leg.  That was going to leave a good sized scar.  I wasn't sure what I would be physically up to after two weeks of whatever this was.  I needed to buy some time.  "Yeah, all right.  So, if I'm supposed to be one of you, just what are you?"

"I am, or was, a worshipper of the Serpent.  We are allied with the giants, at times, and the Forgemaker, occasionally, and the Darkwings, when we can.  We seek to create a world of hard work, where a man, or woman, stands on their own.  We seek to spread through this world, not by the slow planting of orchards, but by the quick growth of ...plants in fields."

You realize his language has no word for Agriculture, and what he's talking about is the Agricultural Revolution.  But intead of them driving out hunter gatherers, he wants to drive out orchardists.

"Competition. Strength.  And yet, those of the Old Cities, they stand in our way. They grab the best ground.  They are religious fanatics.  I'm not a fanatic.  I worshipped the Serpent, but now that you destroyed him, I will find some other god to worship."  He shrugs, and you can see he's not overly upset.

"I can't say I'm happy you did, but done is done. And it was quite a deed."

Looking at your leg, you expect you could walk on it.  Truthfully, it looks more like you had that 'stab' about eight or so weeks ago.  Although why Cuddles would say a 'healing of two weeks'...you do know that its the same night.

   This is strange.  Veggie growers are fighting against fruit growers.  That's as crazy as having each color of M&M's made at a different plant, then mixed together at a central location for packaging.  This was going to get even weirder.  I had to teach a culture about nutrition.  Me... the original junk food junkie... And now I had to try to teach healthy eating and sustainable agriculture.

   "Well, if we are so alike, why an I still stuck in this chair?"  I smiled.  I still didn't trust this guy, but if it got me mobile, I would try to help.  "And I have an idea for your next deity.  We really do need to talk."

He looks thoughtful, and then nods, giving you a big toothy smile, which looks less impressive considering he's about waist high.  Its interesting that he has a chair suite to your size that's clearly been used.

He pulls out a bronze dagger, which is not very sharp, and saws away at the hemp ropes binding your arms to the chair.  Then he hands you the dagger and lets you cut your legs free as he steps back and orders your guns and stuff to be 'moved for safekeeping' which is evidently not in this room.

"Tell me more, Misty. We are a curious people, seeking new information." And this seems honest to you.

   I still didn't trust him as far as I could throw an elephant.  And no matter where he put my stuff, I could and would find it.  "Things are different where I grew up.  People who ran orchards did not hate people who grew smaller, seasonal plants for food.  By the way, farmer is the term we use for someone growing seasonal food crops.  Grower is our term for orchard operators."

   "Our people worshiped several deities related to the growing of food.  There was Gaia, the Earth Mother.  She was in charge of pretty much everything.  Then there was the goddess of the harvest, known by some as Ceres and others as Demeter.  There's a whole bunch of others, probably, but those are the only ones I remember."

"Farmer, eh?"  He visibly notes the name down in his mind, and holding out a hand leads you into another room with a dozen waiting guys, all with bronze spears.  They start to rise when they see you, but Cuddles waves them back down.

Across the Hall of Warriors is another doorway, this time blocked by a rich velvet curtain.  A shaved headed man bars the door until Cuddles snaps at him, and then the man pales.  Still he gives you the Eyeball of Hate.  It may have something to do with the stylized serpent torc about his neck, and his nicer than normal clothes.

"Leave us." Cuddles orders, coldly.  The man does, and Cuddles shows you a courtyard open to the sky, and several altars scattered about it.

"So, how do we call Ceres down to us so that we might gain her blessing on our crops?"  His attitude is of one who is willing to start right now.

   I thought for a moment.  The best answer I could think of was actually the truth.  "I've never been a priest and I've never been a farmer or a grower, so I don't know the specifics.  What I do know is that you offer some of your best crops to Ceres and then ask for her blessing and help in some way.  You might need to carve a giant sized statue of a beautiful woman in a long, flowing gown holding a sheaf of grain, since that is how her followers pictured her back home."  I didn't say the rest of my thought, "...as far as you know."

He frowns. You can see he's thinking about something, but decides not to say it.

"Very well, seems reasonable."

"Now if you don't mind, I'm very tired.  I'm going back to bed. I'll have someone show you to your space."

   I did know that it had been a long day.  Tomorrow was going to be an even longer one, so I allowed myself to be escorted to my quarters, or more likely my cell.

Its a 'quarters', but since its made for folks the size of Silence its not much, and there is a guard outside.  The door is a curtain that is kinda dirty, and so is the room.

In the middle of the night you wake to hear your guard explaining that he can't let them in to beat and rob you because the God of the City would know.  Otherwise, he'd be totally up for a spot of casual murder and robbery.

Later the guard starts snoring, and the hairs on the back of your neck rise on their own.  And then the curtain is pushed aside, and you see a man in a dark cloak with a staff shaped like a corn stalk, and a necklace that seems formed of regular stones.

"I am the priest of the Forgemaker. I healed you. I also healed one who toyed with one of your weapons and burnt off his own toe. A remarkable device.  Imagine how many you  could killth with such a device.  Forget these Serpent Cult fools.  Join the One True God on Earth, the man who cannot die."

   I've heard of the Forgemaker.  Maybe it was time to learn more about him.  It had to be a better option than what I was getting from this place.  "Deal me in, but I'm not leaving without all of my stuff.  I need the supplies and equipment for my travels.  I don't want to leave anything for these fools."

He smiles.

You follow him, and you see the guard sleeping.

"Weak minded."

He leads you through the halls, and you meet another guard, but the priest snarls at him, and the other man backs up very quickly.

And soon you have your items in hand.

And now he's leading you to the exit.

   I do a quick scriff scan before we leave to make sure that I'm not leaving anything behind.  I certainly don't Cuddles to get my bag-o-gems, my three pounds of gold, or anything else he might have wanted of mine.

There's some gems on a far table.  It looks as if someone took a few out to look at.  Once those are retrieved, you are good to go.

The priest stares inquisitively at you much of the time.  Clearly, its not an amorous look, but more of a figuring you out look.  Whenever you do something the least bit odd, to him, his attention sharpens.

He leads you to the gate, and once there, he smiles for there are two new guards at the gate that you both can see from around the corner of a building fifty feet away.

"I must be gentle for my masters do not wish to harm the Father of this City, even if he is a slimy, untrustworthy weasel who plays at war."

So he speaks some words you understand, invoking the Crippled Lord, the Undying One, He Who Stands Yet, the Blood Lord, and suddenly the two of the guards at the gate slump.  He then walks up, and asks you as 'Darkwing's daughter' to open the gate.  You do so, and go out into the night.  Here he speaks more words, and you feel fear go before you and all about you.

"Four days travel to the nearest of our cities, if we walk fast.  I am tough. Are you?"

   Before we leave, I ask the priest to make sure that Silence, my traveling companion, gets freed to return to his village.  I'm not leaving him behind.

   I'm making sure that all my weapons are loaded, in their respective places, and snugged down for traveling.  I take a drink of water, since it's been a while and I need to stay rehydrated.  I cinch the pack's seldom used belt around my waist to secure the bag in place.  I smiled.  "Am I tough enough?  Let's go find out."

The priest shrugs.  He helps Silence get out by leading you to him. Silence is tied, and has a broken arm.  The priest doesnot offer to heal him, and Silence gives the priest a narrow-eyed stare before giving you a long glance, then shrugging.

You get out of the city, and part.

After a day's travel toward the rising sun, you see a huge man waiting in your path.  He's at least twelve foot tall, and there is an almost palpable aura of blood and violence about him.

"Giant. We need to convince him to let us pass, or we will have to go around that mountain ahead. Add another ten hours to our journey." The priest looks at you, and its clear he's thinking what everyone here thinks. 'Giant Kin'.

   I begin to assemble my .30-06 scoped take down rifle.  As I work, I ask, "I don't know this guy.  I'm not from around here.  Is it a requirement that this bozo continue breathing after we leave."

He blinks. Then as he catches your meaning he bursts out laughing, slapping his knee.  Wiping his eyes, he shakes his head.  Then as you set up, he speaks a quick blessing over your weapon which seems as if it will help you shoot the giant.

There is a blunt terseness to his manner, but a bellybusting laugh at fighting.

You line up the shot, and through the scope see the thunderous face of the giant.  He's glaring your way, impatient for you to come up to him.

But you have something else in mind....

    "Yeah, pal, just stand there..." I muttered as I moved off the trail slightly to find a stable position from which to say hello.  That fallen log would work nicely.  I settled behind it, aiming carefully.  I leaned into the hunting rifle, caressed the trigger, and... the stupid log shifted as the rifle fired.  As to where the bullet went is anyone's guess.

   I quickly worked the bolt, chambering another 165 grain boat tailed cartridge, and picked up my sight picture again.   He was moving about, but at least he was not moving directly toward us.  I aimed for his upper body, center mass and squeezed the trigger.  I was rewarded with a puff from his upper chest, left side.  It was probably not a heart shot but it definitely was a lung shot.

   I must have hurt him badly.  As I cycled the action, he began to stagger to the side of the trail.  I couldn't get a clean shot as he hid in a large pile of rocks and brush.  I waited.  As a PI, I was used to waiting for something to happen.  Eventually, I was rewarded for my patience.  I saw a large head slowly rise out of the cover.  I smiled, "Gotcha".  I centered the crosshairs on his rather bulbous red nose and fired for the third, and last time.

After a bit to be sure, although the priest is impatient, you and he walk on forward.  Amidst the granite and the blueberry bushes you see a huge man.  A quick measurement shows that he is just over fourteen feet tall.  His thighs are thicker around than you are.  And even dead, there is a violence in him.

And then a crow, or is it a raven spirals down out of the clear sky, and lands on the giant's face.

"Jhiaxus says watch your six, and do let the bed bugs bite, fellow verser."  And then the raven stabs down, and improbably swallows the whole of an eyeball, before waddling off into the sky.  It ignores your questions, and the priests who demands to know what that meant.

   Before we headed up to check the giant's condition, I threw the bolt to chamber a fresh cartridge.  I also swapped the mag out for a full one.  And, since I had time, I policed up my spent brass.  The Boy Scouts and other outdoor organizations stressed "Leave No Trace".  I was practicing that philosophy, other than leaving behind a giant body with a severe case of lead poisoning.

   He certainly was a big one.  I would put money on the fact that he didn't live here.  If this was a guard post or toll booth of some time, we probably didn't have a lot of time until his friends, assuming he had friends, showed up.  I was about to search the body for something to cover the cost of the ammo, when the raven showed up.

   I guessed from the priest's reactions that talking ravens were not a common occurrence.  Truth be told, I didn't have a lot of experience with them either.  Then there was the message.  "I've been telling anyone would listen and a lot of people who wouldn't that I am a traveler from a place far away.  Jhiaxus is also a traveler.  We call ourselves versers.  He sent me a message to be careful.  As to the raven messenger thing, I have no idea how he did it.  Is there anything else you want to know?"

He shakes his head, and looks troubled.

"That was a god."

Looking over the giant's body, you see a copper armband of crude workmanship of five pounds in mass.  Also, a bone hair comb a handspan wide.  He has a leather belt two yards long, and a bag tied to it holds bread loaves, cheese, a silver ring with a bloodstone inset that is human sized, and two copper coins imprinted with sheep.

"Worth a sheep.  Its how we trade with the giants.  You want to keep it simple when you're dealing with giants.  They have cunning, but they don't see what their eyes don't see."

   I looked at the priest.  "That wasn't a god.  It was a message from Jhiaxus, just another traveler like me.  Sometimes we run into each other.  When we do, we generally send greetings."  I did take a moment to make a scriff check to see if there were any more versers around here... just in case.  A thought occurred to me and it made me a bit uneasy.  If the priest thought that Jhiaxus's messenger was a god, and I did say that Jhiaxus and I were both travelers, did I just sort of admit to being a god?

   I helped myself to the comb, two copper coins and the silver ring and put them in my pocket.  The five pounds of copper might be worth something.  It was five pounds of metal, though, and my pack was almost full already with my worldly possessions.  I wasn't too sure about taking the bread and cheese.  From what I know about giants, they weren't all that finicky about their diet.

   "We should get going soon.  The giant carrying food is a good sign for us.  It means that he was planning on being here a while yet.  We have a chance to get clear before the guy's replacement comes on duty at this troll, err....  toll booth."

The priest can be hard to read at times, but he doesn't start bowing and scraping....

"Indeed."  And you and the priest go over the hill crest, down through a maple forrest being strangled by honeysuckle vines which is well populated with bunnies until the land clears at water's edge for the giant's campsite.

Its a lean-to, campfire (with signs of burnt rocks) still going, a large drum, and a river beyond with a raft on this side.

"Oh....." The priest curses, its something about the Creator, and he stares glumly at the site. After you ask him, he replies.

"Its a drum gate.  I didn't think he'd have one."

When you require further explanation, he sighs.

"There is leviathan in the waters.  It has been taught to eat or not eat as called by the drum.  We enter the water, and one of the Great Beasts will attack us."

   "A drum gate?  Well then, let's see if this gate is open or closed.  Let's pound on the drum.  If a leviathan shows up, the drum means eat.  If the leviathan doesn't show up, the drum means not to eat."  I thought about it for a moment.  "We might have to try different patterns to get the creature's attention.  The problem is that we can't sure what kind of time we will need to get this right."

   I gave the river a hard look.  I really didn't want to mess with whatever was in there.  I've seen "Jurassic Park".  I had no desire to be one of the minor characters.  It didn't end well for them.  "We could hide and wait until the next drummer arrives and see what key opens this lock.  Or, we could backtrack and go around.  Both of those options will cost time.  Do we have the time to spend?"

"Its likely a pattern." He sighs. "Its more sure to go around, but it might be quicker to stay.  Its probably safer to stay."

He scratches his chin.

"We have a few days.  If I'm back too late, well, it will be assumed that I have been scheming.  That is punished among my people."

As you look at the river, you note swathes of foilage torn out of the river bank, about five feet wide.

Beating upon the drum yields a pair of eyes fifty feet downstream.  The eyes are about eight feet apart.  There is a long shadow under the water, and then its gone.  It does not come back.

You realize standing by the drum that this river is a deep one, at least seventy feet, the priest thinks.

   I looked at the river.  "Let's go around.  I don't want to mess with the river monster.  Besides, we don't want you to get into trouble for scheming."  Also, the big guy might have angry friends that I really didn't want to meet by hanging around here.

He frowns, and gets up to his feet.

The both of you start around the mountain in the low piney oak forrest, where you see several bears, all at least eleven feet tall.  But after swerving to go around them, they leave you alone.

"Only giants hunt those."

Then at a great rock, riven by lightning the priest claims, from a battle between two mighty lords of the darkwings, you  turn up the mountain.  Three thousand feet up at a steady thirty to forty-five degree angle, and your legs are burning, and the priest is panting.  On the way you passed over a rock bridge above a deep canyon from which water flowed.

"Y' cough, cough, in much better shape than the giants. cough."

Here in ashwood, you circle the top of the mountain, which is another five hundred feet above you.  The priest tells you this is The Mountain.

You break out of the ashwood into a fern and palm tree forrest on the far side of The Mountain.  Here its much more humid, and in the far distance you can see a glint of blue.  Below you is jungle.

"Three more days." The priest says.

And then you hear something like the cry of a falcon, but it echoes across the sky you can see clearly through the open patches between palms.

   I would have said something snappy in response to the priest while on the mountain, but I just didn't have the extra breath required to actually form words.  I reminded myself that the next time somebody suggested we wait for a while to see what happens, I should give the suggestion more consideration.

   I was starting to feel a lot lower on the food chain than I was used to feeling walking around in the jungle.  I moved carefully, wishing that I had that Hollywood style, Vulcan machine gun from the Predator movie.  As I recall, that thing really chewed up the vegetation, on screen.  It was too big to lug around, though, as general equipment.  I checked for snakes, then moved closer to a tree to avoid any super-sized bird of prey mistaking me for a chipmunk.

   "Three... more... days?"

What with the elevated oxygen and pressure, you do recover quicker than you expect.

Later as you hide in the shade of a palm, a pteranodon sweeps overhead, eyes tracking, and you can tell the aerial predator saw you.

The priest nods, a bit glumly in response to your statement.

"Can you kill this Hunter of the Air as you did the giant?  You're too big for it to carry far, but I am the right size, and you it would savage, and then eat alive."

And then you hear another cry, and the mate of the first joins the overwatch.  Their nest is probably atop The Mountain.

   I mentally ran through the checklist of my ranged weapons.  My little chattergun...  my old faithful sidearm... my new rifle... all woefully inadequate for the task.  The blaster was powerful enough, but had almost no range.  The phaser was powerful enough, but I wasn't sure I could keep a beam on one for long enough to do enough damage.  I really need to update my weaponry at my next high tech stopover.

   I wasn't out of options, just out of options that I wanted to use.  I looked at the priest.  I could probably could guess the answer without asking the question, but I asked it anyway.  "Priest, do you have anything in your bag of tricks that could get us out of here?"

"Not without a blood sacrice."

   "Never mind.  I'm going to try something.  Try to not look tasty."  I sat on the ground and attempted to reach out to find one of the flying thingies.  When I find one, I'll pain spike it.

For a shimmering second, you're in contact with a brain that feels no guilt, nor shame, but only the pleasures of the hunt, the crushing need for food, and the incandescent rage at finding another of its kind, daring to enter its space, who is notits mate.  Its like standing next to a waterfall, this emotion, unfettered by reason, and having a morality that is written in its bones and needs not be thoughtof to be obeyed.

Then the link fails.

But you try again, leaning against a tree, peering into a blue sky.

Contact.

You slap it, and it veers off.  But then it  wheels back around, in a manner you recognize, as rage.

You hit it, but the rage shields it, and you feel what its like to be hated beyond reason.

   I broke the link to this angry flying appetite.  I doubted that I could out rage a primal creature like this.  I dug out the Sauer 202 hunting rifle.  I doubted that he had ever been hunted while in his own element before.  It was about time to show our aerodynamic duo who the primary predator was in this neighborhood.  I chambered a cartridge and gave the criter what I thought was enough lead and timed the shot and...

OOC: And based in part on the discussion in Magic Limits on sacrificing enemies...

Right before you shoot, almost joggling your elbow, the priest asks eagerly if you will dedicate this death to the Forgemaker.

"A sacrifice, yes?"

Then you lead the shot, and blow the hair out of your eyes, and lead again, and BOOM, when its done right, its a surprise.

The shot catches the appetite in its belly, and it staggers in the air, before going down in a rapidly descending spiral that looks more like a controlled crash impending.  The other nose dives to follow at a respectable clip of fifty ish miles per hour.  And then both are lost to your sight behind the trees further down to your right.

   When the priest interrupted my shot, I wanted to shoot him myself.  I guess he took my "Yeah, sure." as approval to do whatever he wanted to do.

   I was almost as surprised as the target when I hit it.  I planned on hitting it.  I wanted to hit it.  I needed to hit it.  And when I did, I smiled for a moment...  just long enough to remember that it wasn't traveling alone.

   I chambered a fresh round, put the spent hull in my pocket, and looked at my traveling companion.  "Priest, while we're getting out of here before the mate comes after us, maybe you could tell me about this Forgemaker.  And in leaving, I think now would be an excellent time to do so."

"Let us be  hidden from the Hunter in the Air's rage." And fog springs up from the ground to cover a substantial area.

The priest grins.

"He is Great." And as you and he stumble through the fog, he continues. "He cannot be killed by man or woman.  He is Old, so very old.  He makes devices of keen cunning, and he discovered metals and what you call 'farming'."

He's so pleased to be talking about his God that he stumbles over a branch.  Above you, you hear the hunting cry come back.

"He has the power of Death." The priest talks softer now, trying to be quiet.  "He has never repented of any deed he has done, not even the First.  Those fools in the Old Cities, they worship a God who does not speak.  And the 'farmers' they worship their snake, which you killed.  Hah, hah. Pathetic.  I worship the Blood Prince, and he is my father, of the ninth generation."

And pausing in the fog, he shows you a necklace which holds a small stone with what looks like dried blood on it.

"His sign. The Stone. He gave this to me, with his own hand."

   His sign seemed rather unimpressive to my eyes.  Maybe you had to be there.  I sheathed the Sauer and drew the MP7.  I flipped the front grip down and extended the stock.  I also swapped the social purposes twenty mag out for the serious business forty mag, then flipped the selector switch to full auto.  If Big Bird wanted to play, I would oblige.  Truth be told, I've never been really good at running away from anything involving trouble.  Toward... yes.  Away from... not so much.

   "Priest, this birdbrain isn't going to go away.  It's time to end this.  If you're going to do the Forgemaker thing, do it now, before we get really busy."  If I was going to face down Big Bird, it was going to be on my terms.  "When we get to a clearing, drop the fog so I can take out this Sky Hunter."

It looks  just like a stone you might find on the ground, ready to hand, but of the pebble size.  So yeah, not that impressive looking.

He frowns, and then draws his knife and cuts his hand, and presses the bloody hand to the stone, and the stone to his temple.  Then he chants a few words of a prayer to the Killer, and suddenly you feel fear and hesitation leave you.  Remorse and pity are distant considerations not worthy of notice, the important thing is to kill your enemy.

Then he blows out a breath, and the fog rolls back.

You're in a clearing, and the pteranodon spots you, and wings over to dive....

   When I heard Priest say something to "The Killer", my mind flashed on the first wild man of rock, Jerry Lee Lewis.  Then, suddenly, my mind cleared... no, more like focused, like the view through a powerful rifle scope.  There was nothing in this universe but the target and me.

   I stood there in the clearing with my PDW at my shoulder, surprisingly unconcerned that winged death was falling out of the sky towards me and growing larger with each passing moment.  I caressed the trigger to send five or six little winged messengers of my own soaring skyward.  I couldn't see the impact, but I knew, somehow, that the slugs hit in the center of the upper chest.  I couldn't help but smile.

   The surprise, shock, and pain of my attack caused Big Bird to flare her wings and slow her descent, exposing her whole body for a brief moment.  I was waiting for that moment.  I held the trigger back for a bit longer this time as about fifteen messengers of death screamed into existence at my bidding.  I laughed as the rounds hit center mass in the upper chest, deciding this puny contest once and for all with the weaker creature spiraling to the ground, crushed and never to rise again.

   I stood in the clearing, my PDW raised to the sky in my right hand with my left hand doing fist pumps as I shouted "Yessss!  Yessss!  Yessss!" to the world.  From somewhere far away, I heard a tiny voice that sounded like mine screaming "Noooooooooooo!"   Then, as suddenly as it came, the feeling of power flowed from my body just like the sweat pouring out of my body.  I dropped to my knees, my head hanging down as I struggled to draw each next breath.

The priest is dancing about with you in the same madness, and when you collapse it takes him a second to notice.  When he does, he fishes in his pack, and forces something in between your teeth.

"Chew, don't swallow. Just chew." After a bit, he gives you a small swallow of water.  What he fed you tastes like dried berry mash, laced with honey, and salt.  "The finger of a God can be a strain when it touches your soul, especially the first time.  But you did so well, so well."

You chew some more, shuddering, and your arms feel as if you'd been carrying a set of weights for miles.

"Sugar, honey, salt, and a little beer are good for the body as long as they are not what caused the problem in the first place.

There is a voice inside you, far away, and it seems to go further as the priest speaks with a calm familiarity of the after effects of magic.

OOC: Kewl.

   As I knelt there, breathing and chewing on my berry flavored cud, I began to comprehend what Priest was saying.  "The Finger of God... touching my soul..."  I couldn't even lift my arms, but my mind was racing.  "I am Misty the Grey.  I stand between the darkness and the light."  No, that was Delenn.  "It's better to light one candle than to curse the darkness."  that was...

   ...a question to be answered another time as the darkness closed in around me.

....I told you to sleep lightly, but Humans, listen to Thought, noooooooooo....  The sarcastic voice seems to come from the vicinity of your shoulder.  And then you're being shaken awake.

The light is painful, eyelids are crusted, and....

Oddly, you feel your wrists are abraded.

And then you see Silent in front of you with his bronze knife.  And he's cutting you free of constricting vines.

   "Wha...  What happened?"  Was that a dream...  Is this?

"You sleep hard." Silence says. "I catch up this noon."

Something bitter, gritty, and numbing is in your mouth.  You spit out some dry leaves as  Silence cuts your legs free.  Your legs tingle with returning bloodflow.

Silence hands you a bit of bark.  On it is written ar message.

"You have done well. Caught between silver and gold. Your guide and friend."

"The priest of the Forgemaker took your things."

A quick check reveals that you've lost all your weapons except for a knife.  The priest left you everything else.

OOC: 30,000 POSTS!! wAhOOOOOOOO!!

   The realization hit me.  "This wasn't sleep.  I was drugged."   I did a scriff check to get a directional fix on my stuff.  I knew that I was in better shape than Priest.  I also knew that I was a lot more motivated than he was.  "Thank you for everything you've done so far.  I'm going after Priest and my stuff.  I could really use your help, but it is your call if you want to come along."

Your vector to the Scriff leads you right toward the city you were going to already.

You are in better shape, and you're substantially taller which in a foot race matters.  While you probably have the edge in motivation, he's got a boost there too as he's aware you might be really angry.  And he was a high willpower individual to begin with.

He knows the land better.  He probably doesn't realize you can scriff track him forever.

As to what he took, well, like most here, he's smart.  Average IQ is about 130 here, and he's a bit brighter than average, and he's seen you use stuff.

Spare clips, mags, and well on the basis of looking interesting power packs he takes.  Spare ammo....(a good  GE roll) and he leaves that.  He swiped the holsters, but on the basis that he would not want to risk waking you, he left the weapons harness.  As to the snapstick, he took it, and indeed from a few signs on a tree trunk nearby, you think he was able to activate it, and gently test it.

Silence stares at you for ten full seconds, and then says irritably.  "I've been following you for days."  Then he motions for you to get up as he's coming along.  And you realize that the Raven's warning is now complete.  Someone was at your six, and when you slept, you lost out.

You an Silent make  your way down The Mountain and into a jungle from which rises the screeching of monkeys and then the counterbasso roar of something rather large that sounds remarkably like in intent if not words as 'shuddup, I'm trying to sleep', followed by a flock of glittering yellow and blue birds taking to the air.  And then you feel something looking at  you, and turning your head, you see a dark green twenty foot long snake draped over a mangrove branch just staring at you from ten feet away.  It flicks out its tongue.

  "I really don't have time for this."  I channel my anger into a pain spike as I let it fly at the snake.

It falls out of the tree thrashing in the undergrowth beneath it, and then after it recovers a bit, it flees.

It occurs to me that Pteranodons and snakes are not exactly human so +@2 to your pain spike use for new uses.

You go into the shadowed jungle, with every step carefully considered as there are holes from roots, from rotten trunks, from a variety of snakes, and not so small furred varmints.  Branches and ferns and vines all take a swipe at your face.  Thorns, prickers, and some sort of sticky goo on a vine (which thankfully is unique) take a liking to your shirt.

At one point a vista opens up and across a hundred yards of clear space you see something that looks like a Tiger, a Sabertooth, and a Lion got together in test tube, and added lots of steroids.  It looks at you, yawns with its great, big pink tongue, and pads off into the jungle.  Its regal.

A bit further on, and you catch up to Silent who's going about a hundred yards in front of you.  He's at the edge of jungle cliff that drops down about fifty feet straight down over rough stones.  He raises an eyebrow to you in question.

   I looked at the cliff.  "Come on.  Let's go find some vines that aren't trying to eat us.  We can use them to get down this cliff."

Silence nods, and draws his bro nze sword, faint yellow in the jungle lowlight.  You and he began carefully cutting vines.  He shoos you away from one making the universal sign for itchy skin.

Then a moment of pure nerves and you're over the edge, rappelling down. On the way, you step over a medicine sized ball of a hornet's nest, pass through the lower branches and reach the ground after shoving aside some vines.  Silence joins you a moment later.

You pass a creek, and in its clay shoulder, you clearly see the dried footprintof the priest , unless there is someone else out here.

"We're gaining on him, slowly. Ahead is a swamp. He went around it. Safer. Slower. What do we do?"

   I looked at the swamp.  "We go around.  I'd like to catch him before he gets to the city, but the important thing is to be able to catch him.  There are too many unknowns here to risk cutting through the swamp.  There must be a good reason Priest passed this by.  That is good enough for me."

You circle the swamp to the occasional tune of megafauna from inside it sounding off.

On the far side of the swamp, you travel a dozen more miles under double layer jungle, and then you come out on a crest, and catch a glimpse of a blue line in the distance.  And a fire on a far ridge which has a good view ofits back trail.  Nearly ten more miles, but you can see a figure moving about.

Your Multivisor sees the Priest shift from panic to determined motions....

   I replaced the Multivisor in my pack.  Now that I knew where Priest was going, I could get my stuff back, one way or another.  "Once we get near the city, you can take off with my thanks and a pound of gold for all you did.  I can't ask you to go on a one way trip.  My initial goal was to hurt the snake people, and killing their god counts for me.  This is beyond what you signed on for.  If you want to go home, I totally understand."

"I left expecting to die." He says flatly.  After a bit you realize this means he's planning oncoming.

As you cross the land between you and the campfire, you see that the Priest is not leaving his campfire.  Its almost as if he's waiting for you....

   I couldn't help but smile at his response.  "I understand what you mean.  Every day that I wake up, I expect to die.  But on that day, I don't plan to go alone."  I gathered up my all too light equipment.  "Let's do this."

   I was a bit concerned that Priest was waiting for me.  I did a scriff search to see that he still had my weaponry.  If he ditched my firepower, I could go get it back from where he left it.  If he still had my stuff, he was making it easy for me.  The only question was why and there was only one way to find that out.

Your weapons are moving forward and away from the Priest.  So you advance toward him, feeling as if there is something itchy in your eye, as if you're about to hear a fly, or maybe a wasp buzz past your ear, feeling as if you want to jump out of  your skin.

You step and get your first good close look at the Priest from thirty feet away, and its like the popping of a soap bubble.  You're not sure how you ever saw the priest there.

Instead, there sits a man in dark robs, nigh seven feet tall, with a severe expression on his face, and a single circlet of molten gold about his head.  He's not human, but even by the standards you've grown used to over the last few weeks, that is being surrounded by tens and elevens, with the occasional nine, this  guy is astounding.  He's not just handsome, he pretty, no beautiful.

"Darkwing." Silence hisses.  "O Creator..."
"Keep still." And Silence is quiet and still. The sonorous voice still seems to reverbrate in the air even after he has spoken.

   I looked at the pretty man in front of me.  I never seriously considered the really pretty ones as anything but interesting toys.  I was sure that I never wanted to get serious with someone more high maintenance than I am.  He didn't have my stuff, but since he was here...

   The guy was impressive...  Rude, but impressive.  This must have been the Boss to Priest's henchman.  I wondered if henching was part of Priest's job description.  If I ever saw Priest, I made a mental note to ask him.

   When Silence called him Darkwing, I couldn't help but think that he didn't look much like a duck.  I had to think of something snappy and clever to say.  It says so on page 52 of the PI Handbook in the chapter titled 'Meeting The Big Boss'.  "Are you the guy I see to get my belongings back?"  I never really liked page 52 anyway.

He turns his head toward you, as if he's remembering how to move a body.
"I could be, if you were to agree to the Priest's terms.  Terms which I happen to agree with, human. If you will not, then I have been asked to keep you here until the priest reaches his city run by the Third Fool."

His brow wrinkles.

"Most Human females find me irresistable.  And their children are Giants, mighty in the land."

He looks puzzled. He stands, and black wings snap out from both sides, wings like that of a  swan, but larger.

   "When your priest buddy stole my stuff like a beggar swipes a loaf of bread and ran off, he didn't stop to try to make any deals.  He just ran like the low life pusball he proved himself to be.  What are his supposed terms?"

   This guy is just here to waste my time.  Boost!  I take off running towards the city, the priest, and my stuff.

His jaw drops open as you bolt past him, and out of the clearing.

Silence follows you as fast as he can.

Simultaneously you hear a roaring voice like the voice of a wildfire....

"H...U...M...A...N....!!!"

And the ground shakes under your feet, and the trees sway.

A flick of fire falls out of the sky to your right, and then as you continue on, to your left, and they began to speak as they catch trees or brush or grass, whatever they land upon on fire, rather like the Burma Shave signs as you pass them.

"You will burn for this insolence.Do you not know what I am?  How dare you pit your pitiful might against the Lord of the Wild Flame? I helped hold the molten core of this planet in my hands before your kind were even made."

He's definitely ticked off.

   I ran as I had never run before.  My feet barely touched the ground as the surreal scenery flew past me at an incredible rate.  I heard shouting behind me, but it didn't matter.

   A long time ago on a ship called the Connecticut Yankee, I was given a set of implants.  They almost killed me the first time that they came on line.  I've used them during my travels, just another tool to help me solve problems.  Over time, my body had become accustomed to these bio-mechanical boosters.  Now, for the first time, they felt as much a part of me as my heart or my lungs.  I couldn't say if it was the hyper-oxygenated air or what.  All I knew was that at this moment, I was born to run.

   A pure joy welled up from my soul as I ran.  I ran free.  I ran strong.  I could run forever.  Everything important was in front of me.  Nothing important was behind me.  All that mattered was right now.  All that mattered was The Run.

OOC: I'll take that. Pluses to Use Booster, Run, and some sort of Mental Focus skill that you probably have.

You're morally certain that you're beating a four minute mile, but then even that thought is gone.

You are outrunning a raging wildfire created by ...well, not a duck.

Let's get out the GE Rolls and skill rolls for the next ten miles to the next serious river....

You run, keeping the pace, a bloodied leg from a slasher vine not a problem (yet), fleeing as you've never run before, and outpacing the fire, finding a deer path that leads in the way you need to go...

Next mile....It just goes by, you're in the zone, so far that you don't see the triceratops you sprint right past within arms reach of....

Third mile...You hit a 'gift' left behind by an elephant, and suddenly you're airborne, and going downhill, trying to get your feet underneath you, bushes smacking in your face, leaves blotting out your vision, vines entangling you so that your're like a comet skidding down a slope of muddy mess....

If you survive, you're going to have lots of bruises, but for now  you feel no pain...

..."I wonder if Jim Fixx had days like this"...

Fourth mile, you're back on your feet, trailing several  yards of vines, and running well....

So far, you're outpacing the wildfire....

Fifth mile....Hunh? There's that Priest, ahead of you.  He sees you, and starts rummaging in his pack.  He's clearly been running, but not with the joy you have...still, he's kept a respectable pace. But guilt seems to be weighing him down...

   I lower my left shoulder and go at this guy like a Chicago Bear lineman going after a quarterback.

Force equals Mass times Speed.

You'd have to slow down a little bit so thirty miles per hour.  He tries to dodge but fails but this weakens the attack a bit.

Doing this to a large adult male would be a bad idea.  Doing it to a two and half foot tall, if well muscled local....not so bad an idea.

You're amped up on adrenaline.

He yanks out the plasma blaster and tries to fire it at you....good thing he failed as he was aiming it at himself....

You hit him, and he goes airborne.  He lands fifteen feet away, unconscious.  He's got a bag of your stuff and the plasma gun is loose.

Plus at one to relevant skill.

   I stagger over to where the blaster is laying, pick it up, then fire once into Priest's head.  I didn't feel badly about that, since he did drug me, steal my stuff, and try to kill me.  I just couldn't see the death of a murder priest as something to get worked up over.

   I begin transferring my possessions back to their proper places.  Every fiber of my being is telling me that I'm tired, insane, stupid, exhausted, relieved, and tapped out.  Did I mention that I was tired?  Still, I wasn't going to stop until everything was given a quick check and put back in position.  It felt sooooo good to be fully dressed again.

   Next, I dumped the contents of Priest's pack on the ground and began going through his things since my own stuff was put away.  That seemed fair, somehow.  I took special care to not touch that rock-with-blood talisman as I looked.  I kept an eye out for the wildfire.  I hoped Silence got away from Dorkwing.

OOC: Last word is not spelled incorrectly.

You have your gear, and the wildfire is coming closer.  The scent of smoke, and the crackle of flame are heard, but you ignore this, and quickly paw through Priest's stuff.

1. Wineskin. Not bad vintage.
2. Garotte made of animal gut.
3. Necklace with stone. You don't touch this.
4. Jerky, several pounds.
5. Velvet wrapped tablets of baked clay that you can read...
Seems to be 'begats' as in 'Omx begat Zotak, and Zotak begat Berg who laid waste to Kaiphan, and begat Stons, who begat Dolas, who begat Mor who had nine sons who all built cities, and the chief was Mi who begat Dag who met the Stranger who killed the Serpent God.' That's one of the tablets, the latest.
6. Clay ball, baked, seems to hum.
7. Flint.
8. Ten foot rope.
9. Fishing hook made from bone.

A tree back up the slope catches fire on the top of it, and this is the first fire you see in a bit.  The land is covered by smoke back that way, and the rustle of flames has become a roar.

   I stuff the jerky, flint, and rope into my pack.  I attach the wineskin to my pack and begin to get out of here.  I think I've overstayed my welcome in this part of the woods.

Run.

The fire is catching up to you even as you set out.

You warm up, aided by the fire at your heels, and trying to outrace the little fingers that go out to your right and left.

You push past tiredness, and cross a fifty yard slab of shale rock which does not stop the fire you see, but slows it down a good bit.  Only two more miles to go and your legs feel like rubber.

And you set out again, and your right calf muscle seizes up in a dreadful charlie horse that goes down into your ankle and toes.  You stumble and roll into a smooth fall.

   I somehow managed to get to my feet, but walking was out of the question.  Running wasn't even an option.  I'm not sure that I can get out of the fire's way.  I had an idea.  Maybe I could make the fire get out of my way.

   I took out the assault phaser and set it to disintegrate.  I began blasting trees on my side of the natural shale firebreak.  If I could destroy enough of the fuel too quickly for it to catch fire and burn, maybe I could get through this.

In reply to Misty (msg # 229):

You start blasting, half-hopping on one leg, with the other just touching the ground.  Miss, but the shale dust blasted up actually blocks some of the overleaping fire.  Blast, and burn one tree down, and another, hop, and one tree is on fire and about to spread, so zorch....

Fall over on your back, and roll to the left, and zap and disintegrate two more trees.  But bushes, there are so many bushes.  Granted each one takes but half a second to vape, but there are so many....

Time blurs as you shoot and shoot.

And then you realize the phaser is scorching hot, and not firing anymore, and its beeping at you.  Its out of juice.

The barrier is now eighty to a hundred yards wide, and unless a strong wind comes up, its good enough, by about ten yards as you see a spit of fire land at the seventy yard mark, and burn itself out.

   I take a deep breath of air, coughing a bit in the smoke still swirling around me.  Fumbling for my canteen, I manage to get a long drink of water, then after a moment, poured the rest of the water over my head.  It felt soooo good.  As I looked down, water dripping from my head, I saw two assault phaser charge packs laying on the ground.

   I picked up the charge packs and examined them.  The both of them were drained.  I doubted there was enough power left in both packs to charge a AAA battery.  It was funny, but I didn't remember swapping out any power packs.  I tucked them into my pack.  Maybe I could find a place to recharge them at my next stopping place.  I removed the dead charge pack from the assault phaser as well.  It joined the other two.  I would insert a fresh pack when the handy little weapon had cooled down.  I wasn't out of charge packs, but I had better come up with a better idea for my next forest fire.

   I took stock of my situation as I massaged the ache out of my leg.  I didn't know where I was.  I wasn't sure where I was going.  Several beings and Mother Nature had been trying to kill me.  I was in dire need of a a hot shower, a cold beer. a laundromat, and a Prompt Care Clinic.  Yup, things were working out just about like usual.

   I reloaded the phaser, put it away, and began the walk to town.  Maybe they had beer.

Two more miles, and you see a muddy half-tube at the crest of a hill which leads down toward the river.  There is a small, sandy beach, and unlike the other river, this one is shallow, at least here.

And then you hear a rushing noise off to your right, and spin about plasma blaster in hand, to see an otter of rather large size come barrelling down the hill in the mud half-tube slide, and splash in the water.  Its followed by several others, who spot you standing there.

Seeing them in the water is too much temptation, so soon you're splashing and swimming with them.

You do note that there is always one acting as a sentry, and they take turns at the job.

After thirty minutes of this, you're back for walking.  The passage over the shallows is easy enough, and on the other side, you start walking.

Toward nightfall, twenty miles later, you hear an inimitable noise.

The blare of a steam whistle.

A bit further on, and you see a stone walled city, with fires going on at night, and at its front gate is a pillar ten tall and eight by eight wide, and upon it an ordinary seeming stone, except for its size which must make it about twenty five tons.

Despite night, you can see people walking through the streets with torches in hand.

   Swimming with the otters was what I needed to do.  I feel a lot less grungy.  I smell a lot more presentable.  The exercise worked a lot of the knots out of my muscles.  Also, the otters didn't try to kill me.  Overall, that was a well spent half an hour.

   At the city, I spent some time watching the people.  I also watched out for any guard types walking around.  I had time.  I certainly wasn't getting through that gate.  My general concept of people had broadened a lot since I became a verser.  I took notice of their size, their clothing, what they carried in addition to their torches, their general demeanor, the presence or absence of any uniformed authority figures, and if I could figure out if there was any pattern to their movements.

You see what looks like guards who are carrying stamp forged throwing axes of solid steel, and wearing red capes.  They operate in pairs, and you can see that one of them will talk to a guy (usually telling him to get out of the way of a wagon), while the other flanks the man.

Most are the same midget size you're used too.  A few are taller, but not giantish.  There are a few giants, but they are not well treated, and interestingly they take it which given giants violent tendencies says something interesting.

The city is several times the size of the one you first visited.

There are it seems four steam presses or stamps going on in the night.  You smell charcoal being burnt.

There is a pond south of the city which gets liquid dumped in it, and to your IR the ponds temp is near a hundred degrees.  It looks like nothing grows near the pond.

The people carry tablets, baskets of ore, and baskets of charcoal.  They push small wagons on two wooden wheels to the charcoalery.

Their clothing is plain, and practical and a bit dirty.

Most of the people, to judge by the houses, work in the day, but there seems to be a night shift here.

There are again, no dogs.

   I don't want to try to get into this place tonight.  I'll back off and try to find a concealed campsite for what's left of tonight.  I don't want anyone to spot a campfire, so it looks like dinner will be the same stuff I've been nibbling on for the last twenty-two miles, jerky, with a granola bar for desert.

   I told myself that tomorrow I would try the harmless traveler routine at the front gate.  I thought about my trip here so far.  All right, maybe not so harmless at that.  I'll try for friendly traveler.

You find a small mine ripped into the earth, and abandoned.  It serves well from the point of view of concealment, although laying on rock is not the most restful.

You run through the last of the jerky.

The next morning, you walk down with several others entering the city, and as you prepare your routine, you notice the guards don't even bother to pay attention.  The streets are muddy, rutted, and occasionally decorated with burnt wood, rusted bits of iron, and acidic green liquids that stink.  The number of people is much larger, and they're in a hurry, and the guards, when they pay attention are more in the manner of trafic cops, making sure people get out of the way of the wagons with the occasional thump of a stick for encouragemet.

   "I was in a hurry to get here?"  As I walked around I realized how much this place could use a local version of the EPA.  I guess that when your home is run by somebody called Forgemaster, metalworking is going to be an important aspect of the town, if not the only one.  Priest was in a big hurry to get here.  I guess it was about time for me to find out why.

   I looked for the largest, most impressive building that wasn't some kind of factory.  I figured that's where I would find the the shakers and movers, kind of like Georgetown in D.C.  I've never met any kind of top dog who lived in a ranch style house in the burbs.  They always make it easy.  I don't usually get much easy.  Maybe that is a career choice.  Maybe it's just me.

You pass a stampforge which juts into the street.  Hot metal is poured down an open tube, a whistle blares, and crunch, another axe is formed, as an upper mold gets slammed down onto a lower mold.

Its loud and it stinks.

Just past this is a four story squared off tower, but nothing is quite square, and  more than a few items don't make much sense like a stairs leading up to nowwhweres.

You come to the front door, and a pair of hard-faced guards with open axes in hands block your way.

"Giant." One says tersely.  Its a decidedly unfriendly reaction.

   I looked at the stairway and couldn't help but think of the Winchester House out in California.  We went out to the San Jose area on vacation when I was a kid to visit family and that was one of the places we visited.  The place had a hundred and sixty rooms in a crazy jumbled up floor plan that must have only made sense to Sarah Winchester.  As was told to me later repeatedly, I was so impressed by their firearms museum that I cried when I was forced to leave.

   After the guard's comment, I looked around quickly, turning my head in all directions.  Turning back to the guards, I shrugged my shoulders and asked, "Giant?  Where?  I didn't see one."  Page fifty-two.  It's kind of a rule.

One cracks a smile, the one on your right.

"If you want to audition for the Freaks to play in the Blood Prince's court, its around back."

You notice Lefty has flanked you so you can't clearly see both of them at the same time.

And then you hear a demand from behind you.

"Stand aside, or decorate the Stone."

You see four guys with axes, but their red capes have gold thread, and behind them are three of Priest's buddies.  From looking at them, you've got about a second to do something before they attack you.  Already the door guards have gotten out of the way.

They're going in the front door, right past you, it seems.

   I step out of the way to allow the thug patrol to enter and to keep an eye on Lefty as well.  My right hand is close to the PDW as I make a grand sweep with my left arm toward the entrance.  "Of course, Sirs.  In my land we believe in age before beauty."

They frown at  you as they pass by, their native quick wits battling their own massive egos, with the result being 'inconclusive, check back later'.

After they enter, both Righty and Lefty snort soft laughter.

"More guts than brains, giant.  You can go right in, but keep your back to a wall.  If you're smart, you'll leave  this town tho."

   "Thank you.  I'll keep that in mind."  I've never been accused of being smart, except for having a smart mouth.  I usually get by on being too stupid to give up.  I went in to see the place important enough to have guards out in front to keep me out.

The room is large, chaotic.  A man lies dying against a wall, his gut leaking blood.  A couple dozen folk are chained up, being offered for sale.  One man is saying he's got a dozen Old Citian's ears for bounty.  Priest of Murder stand proud, and offer there services to anyone who needs someone killed.

And moving through this mess is a man even shorter than the rest, a man with a game leg, and hair that looks like it been dyed with tomato paste.  He's got full white hair you'd say.  He also, despite his limp, moves with a grace that would make a prima ballerina weep in despair.  He has what Toothless had, but much more.

And even from here , across the room, you can see on others, and feel on yourself a sense of majesty.  Your back brain wants to bow, but then you catch a glimpse of his eyes thr htough the crowd.  Totally insane.  And now your back brain is looking for a hole to climb in.

And you hear beseeching voices from all about him.

"Blood Prince."
"Master."
"Lord of Death."

But you hear one over and over.

"Cain."

   If I was going to give this planet a high colonic therapy treatment, I've just found where to stick the nozzle.  Maybe I missed the sign over the door saying "Murder Priest Temple".  Maybe I should have asked the guards outside a question or two.  That didn't really matter now, since I was already here.

   I couldn't help but wonder a few things as I looked about.  I wondered how much it would cost for a murder priest to kill another murder priest.  I wondered what price a murder cult slaver placed on another being's life.  Before I could find out any of the answers, the boss arrived.

   When I caught sight of him, I fought past my first urges.  When this was over, I planned on taking by brain out and scrubbing it down with bleach to try to get it clean.  Ugghhh.  What a repulsive little creep.  I willed myself to just stand there and watch the show, kind of like a slasher flick on cable when you've misplaced the remote.  I did put up my mental ego shield, just out of reflex.  I wasn't sure what this Cain's gig was, but I knew that he was twisted enough to hide in the shadow of a corkscrew.

Your shield goes up, and its a decided relief.  A glass wall between you and the crazies,like you're talking to Hannibal Lecter, but at least he's over there behind the bulletproof glass, and not breathing the same air you are.

"My children." Cain speaks. "Those of my blood, and those of my heart." And the room quiets. "Give this man his bounty, and twice more. Those of the Old Cities, they worship the God Who Does Not Speak.  Fools. I destroy them.  I make weapons to bring war.  And those of lesser
Gods destroy them as well.  Soon, all the Earth with know the One True God....."

And everyone in the room gets down on their knees before Cain.  And even if you were willing to bow before this repulsive little creep, you're just not as quick as everyone else.

"I have the power of life and death. I killed my brother because it suited me."

His eyes catch you, and you see him dismiss you as a woman, which hurts, but rationally, in a world where Beyonce and Cindy Crawford are normal, it shouldn't.  But then, his eyes focus on your guns, and you see a greedy smile flicker across his face.  He wants those guns, and very badly.  And unlike most of the rest in this world, he has enough technical understanding and intuitive perception to realize at least some of what he's looking at.  He's a creep for sure, but a genius creep.

   The assault phaser is set to wide beam disintegrate.  I slowly draw the phaser and adjust the setting to training while I covertly set it to overload.  I bent down and slid it over to him.  "Here, oh Master of Death, is the most powerful of my treasures for you to examine.  I set it to charge for you that you may wield it to see its power."

   As he bends to pick it up, I'm going to draw the blaster and end this evil.

He giggles.

"He said 'the day would come when a women handed me a Spear of Light..."

He takes the phaser, and you quick draw, but he's just faster, and you see his smirk....

And then there's an expanding bubble of plasma rushing out at ten thousand feet per second.

Next world....

"I'm going to miss that phaser..."