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..."