The fellow herb hunters give you strange looks, but they seem to take your word as valuable due to your griffon hunting, so they set off.

The people are greatly worried once they hear what you have to say back at the camp, and preparations are made for defense, and for leaving.  Several vehicles are pushed together to make a fort, and others are readied to leave.  The tank men are contacted.


You hear a rumbling laugh roar through your mind, and with it pain is gone, and fear subsides.

"I am Yanon, the Lord of Nature.  If you wished to speak to my wife, Aramintha, the head of the Pantheon of Light, you may."  You smell intense green grass, and hear thunder booming in the distance.

"I come because of the Prophecy, and your kindly nature.  Be not worried about the minor spirits of mischief and malice in this world, Worldwalker. I am pleased that one of you came with the Arrivers. But fear not the minor spirits, even the Gods of Chaos do not want their kind here. But I would make Compact with you.  As a token of my nature..."

....Look....

And looking up over the next five minutes you see a dense fog appear between the trees to the south of you.  And as you sit there, you realize the contact is gone, and your arm does not hurt anymore.

As I sat there watching the fog I was unable to truly think strait. It had worked after a fashion. I hadn't truly expected it to. As I had told Max, it was a hail mary play. And you never expect those to provide more then an "at least things aren't worse" result. In this case, I had figured that with an injured arm I wouldn't be much help preparing defenses. So a one in a trillion chance had sounded like a good shot. To be honest, I had thought the whole thing would either fizzle or blow up in my face.

To continue the football analogy, I had thrown the ball as far down field as I could in the vain hopes of getting a touchdown, but at least getting the ball further away from my end zone. In this case that was not disrupting preparations. I was sure others here knew more about creating fortifications and defending an area then I did. Actually making contact, that had been my vain hope. And yet it had happened. As thought returned to me I couldn't help but wonder just what I'd gotten myself into.

Forgive any implied insult Lord Yanon, I thought. In my land it is the earth mother Gaia who protects the natural world. And my research into other worlds shows it is usually a Mother who represents nature and it's duality of life and death, creation and destruction.

Aloud I said "Thank thee for thy gift Lord Yanon. Thank thee for thy guidance Lady Aramintha. With light of wisdom do I now prepare. In your honor, in service of Light and Nature's Balance shall I do battle. So mote it be."

With the contact gone, or at least the sensation of another gone I used the claw to slash through the oroborus of blood I'd made earlier. When doing so I was careful not to mar any of the lines or sigils I'd made beyond that figure eight. Everything I'd read about ritual magic had been quite clear about that. The circle must be properly broken or else catastrophe could occur. Only after I had cut through the figure eight did I leave the circle. Tentatively I tried to move my right arm.

If it truly was healed, which I suspected it to be I decided to use what time we had to practice. With unfinished bone sword in my right hand and ceremonial dagger in my right, I practiced like I usually do. with imaginary foes surrounding me. I had no true style. It was all self taught. My attacks were what felt natural. My defenses consisted mostly of dodging. What defending I did that was. I've never been much for defense.

Overwhelming offense, aye. Quick light strikes followed by power hits, aye. Being a whirlwind of punches, kicks, or slashes, most definitely. But even at a young age I wasn't too keen on defense. Rather my fighting style had long been to charge in hard and fast. When hit, I would soak it up. If knocked down I would get back up and come again even more brutally. That probably was related to the fact that as a child I was prone to berserk rages. And even now still struggled with my fiery temper at times.

Normally when practicing I go for slow precision. It's a form of exercise after all. Not to mention I often practiced in my apartment. Thus space was limited and there was the risk of damaging expensive electronics. Now however I practiced with my full strength and speed. I needed to know how the bone weapon was balanced and how it would affect combat. I usually dual wield using twin daggers after all. Swords I usually wielded two handed in practice, using a katana or hand and a half sword. If using a one handed blade such as a long sword or kukuri style machete I didn't use an off hand weapon usually. Thus I needed to figure out how I would fight this way.

Even so, I knew not when the attackers would arrive. So I only practiced for maybe ten to twenty minutes so I could rest and recover my strength. Going over what I had learned, I came to a few conclusions. As such I approached whomever was planning the defense.

"Got good news, bad news, and take however you want it news. The good news is that I've managed to contact Lord Yanon, the local local god of nature and his wife Lady Aramintha, who leads the local pantheon of Light. As such I've learned a bit more about this Count Irizyn. It's a minor spirit of mischief and malice apparently, nd even the gods of chaos want to kick such entities out of this world.

"The bad news is that even a minor spirit can be big trouble for us. Such things typically need either specific spells, general combat magic, or an enchanted weapon to deal with. And we have none of these things. And it's also likely to have supernatural creatures in it's army. This means that we may need anything ranging from weapons forged from specific materials to magic weapons to hurt them.

"Fortunately such forces also typically require special diets and aren't too keen on taking prisoners. So it's pretty safe to say we'll probably be dealing with orcs or something similar. Which means normal weapons will be just fine if that's what we're facing. And it's doubtful counts forces will be prepared for firearms like what we have. Or even tanks should they go after the armored division.

"Trolls are unlikely since it's a Calvary unit being sent. But if there are any, they'll be big, ugly, probably smell like rotting flesh, and possibly have greenish skin. If you do see a troll, remember that while they can be hurt by normal weapons they do regenerate quickly. As such fire is your friend when fighting a troll. Giants are even less likely for the same reason. You'll recognize a giant if you see one. And while they don't have any particular weaknesses, they are rather tough. I'd suggest aiming for their head with any high caliber weapons available.

"There is the slight chance they will be riding something like a dragon. In that case do not stand in close groups. That's just asking to be hit with a breath weapon. And make sure you aim for soft targets. Eyes, inside the mouth if you can, or even if you're a good enough shot into the nostrils. Dragon scales are tough. It's possible modern firearms can punch through them. The ability for a musket round to pierce full plate is why armor fell out of use until kevlar was invented after all. But I wouldn't risk that without an anti-material rifle or armor piercing rounds. Dragon scales can, and are used to create suits of armor far superior to ones made from steel. While I don't think we'll see anything like that, yet, I felt I should warn you.

"And speaking of magic, spellcasters are a real concern. If you see someone in the attacking forces who's wearing little to no armor, and possibly carrying a staff or rod... shoot them in the head. Do not give them a chance to speak or gesture. Otherwise you may be facing a fireball or lightning bolt. Or any number of other magics both damaging and mind affecting.

"As for the final bit of news... there's apparently a prophesy. No, I don't know what this prophesy is. And I'm not a particular fan of them. They tend to be self fulfilling and rarely good for the ones they involve after all. But considering a major goddess of Light contacted me because of it, this could be good for us. So, any questions or concerns?"

It occurred to me that I'd never thought my years of roleplaying would possibly make me an expert on things I'd actually be facing in real life. And to think, mom use to consider it a useless hobby.

It seems as if Lord Yanon has a bluff attitude, and would consider getting offended over an innocent mistake as lessening himself.  Challenging him would result in conflict, but mistakes are just that.

The Australian, Mike, comes over and joins you in practise, and indeed your arm is fine, except for some scars on the skin.  He has fashioned himself a club.

You're able to out do him with your two handed attack.

You brief the other members of the Council, and again, you get the feeling that if not for your results, they'd be kicking you off the Council, but its hard to argue with a healed arm.  And the dense fog to the south as Franze the Cop points out will slow the arrival of these 'bad guys' a lot.

Sharon asks about herbs gathered for medical purposes.

Heinrich, the other cop, asks if they should just leave now.

Pater, the owner of Black Forrest Leather, says 'nein, the frau with the liebchen, would be hard on such a little one. Instead, we build pits.  Cavalry does not like pits. I know a littel about this, because one of my suppliers would kill maneating tigers in India."

"Sorry, my knowledge is more along the lines of how to deal with things that want to ruin your day. Need a siege engine, I know how to build one. Need battle tactics for using swords and bows in large scale conflict, I can help you. Need to know if that mythical creature is a threat, and if so how to deal with it, I'm your man. But without my reference library I don't know much about holistic medicine or the magical uses of various plants. That said, my survival guide does have information on natural remedies, what to use, and how to prepare them Starting on page four fifty-six. I'll lend it to whoever is gathering supplies. I'd suggest whoever gathers them is respectful to nature. The gods here are active, unlike back home."

When Peter mentioned pits I said "They also hate spears. So palisades of long sharp sticks at an angle will slow them down. Assuming it's ground based. Don't forget, there's things like griffons here. So this may be an aerial force. I don't think it will be since such forces require more training, but the option is there. I can see what I can do to keep the noncombatants safe. I'm not a mage, but I do know a few things about ritual magik which might help."

With  sigh I thought about what else might be needed. Off the top of my head I couldn't think of anything else. But that just concerned me that I was forgetting something. The situation was too dire, too big. And that worried me. It was also rather crazy. Only the weirdness that normally is my life and the craziness of the past day allowed me to be this rational.

"Sorry, I know this is a lot to take in. And it's all so unbelievable. Welcome to my life, weirdness and crazy happenings and all. Fortunately I am something of an expert on the mythical and supernatural. It's helped more often then you might expect. Granted, it most often helped when roleplaying. But you wouldn't believe some of the things I've actually had to deal with. Let's just say that in my world the supernatural is real. And while it's usually subtle and hidden, stuff does come up."

Speaking of words, I was wondering what the goddess had meant when she called me a worldwalker. It sounded important. Made me sound like I myself am some sort of mythical being of great power. Which I suppose if true could account for how trigger happy those soldiers had been. Maybe I shouldn't have tried implying I was more capable then I am.

In reply to Andrew (msg # 31):

"I would like to look at your survival guide, mein herr Andrew. I can advise the herb gatherers.' Sharon says softly.

Its agreed to put a line of outward tilting spears around the inner redoubt of four cars parked tail to nose in a square with an empty space in the center. Peter agrees that spears are a better investment than pits as pits take a lot of effort and time and they have few, or only one shovel.  The Council asks Heinrich to supervise this.

They ask you to do this ritual magic. And as soon as they do, you feel a sense of greater strength in small measure in magic flow into you.

You do notice your consoling words have the effect of reassuring them, and also of raising your status with them as they see you as not just 'that weird magician and brave fighter' but also as somewhat wise.

Those soldiers had been scared of you, you recall, and anything that scares a SAS soldier has to be pretty severe.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:01, Fri 05 Aug 2016.

"Sure thing," I said as I handed the book to Shanon.

There was a reason why I'd had this particular book with me instead of one of my other survival guides. It was compact, about the size of a normal paperback book. Maybe a little taller. And it was packed full of more information on more situations, even ones most survival guides I've looked through overlooked. How to make bone and stone tools was one such thing. The other guides I owned often assumed having manufactured tools and pharmaceuticals. This one covered how to survive if you basically have nothing but the cloths on your back (if that). As such I'd considered it a better resource for the game we were playing then my other survival guides.

Now I was rather glad I like bringing in such reference guides when gaming. Actually, I was rather wishing I had my full B.O.B. and kit with me. Having a hatchet, couple machetes, crossbow with bolts, and all the rest would have been nice. As it was, I was quickly deciding that if stuff like this was going to keep happening to me, I was going to have to put together a new kit. Surviving the next few days however took priority.

When they confirmed the desire for me to try setting up a means of protecting the non-combatents I nodded. This I did have more resources for. Granted one of those resources was a roleplaying game book. But when I'd looked up the sybolism used in the illustrated magic circles it was correct for the intended purpose. I had to wonder if the person who wrote the book had been in contact with a practitioner. The activation words was likely wrong. But maybe that didn't matter since magik was mostly intent and will. I chose the one in the Revised Heroes Unlimited book listed as a circle of force.

Before I started I told those I'd be hopefully protecting "I'm going to be drawing a circle of protection. This should keep you safe in the event of attack, but it'll be important not to mess up any part of it when you enter. Before I begin I'll need to know everyone's full name. I have a pad of paper and a pencil so you can right it down. This is important since the circle of protection wont let you in unless your name is inscribed inside of it. When the bad guys arrive you'll need to gather in the empty part of the largest circle. You'll know what I mean when I finish drawing it. I'll then activate the circle. Since how long it'll last is variable, I wont empower it until the protection is actually needed. Everyone understand?"

Once I had people's names I used the broken saber to draw first the innermost circle into the ground. This was then followed by a much larger one surrounding the first circle. Four lines were next engraved to form a giant X which extended past the outer circle, but didn't pierce the inner one. I had to recheck multiple times to ensure everything looked good. The end result was that the outer circle was separated into four equal quarters. At the ends of the northeast, northwest, and southwest lines I added another small circle.

Next I pulled my dagger and used it to inscribe the names of those who this was intended to protect around the inner edge of the larger circle. Next I carefully used the broken saber to draw a sun in the northern quarter of the circle. In the western part I drew a cross formed by four triangles which almost, but didn't quite touch each other. Finally in the eastern part I drew a second cross, this time what was commonly called a southern cross. It consisted of two lines of equal distance which intersect in the middle, with a line at each of the ends to form four crosses which meet in the middle.

The surge of energy as I finished creating the protection circle surprised me. As I told the council, I'm not a mage. Theoretical knowledge is not the same thing as practical knowledge. And before today I'd never actually attempted ritual magik. Tarot readings which had been frighteningly accurate the few times I did one, but no actual magik. Privately I said a prayer of thanks to Aramintha and Yanon, convinced it had to be them aiding me. The entire inscribing took me maybe half an hour. I wasn't sure, but from the sun's change in position that sounded  about right.

Looking around, I tried to find something else I could help out with. If nothing came to mind, I decided I would continue working on the bone sword.

In reply to Andrew (msg # 33):

The herb guide helps her get some basic medical supplies like moss for covering wounds.  Another of her workers suggests cutting up some of the seat covers for bandages, and the Benz with the crazed windshield from the griffin has its seats sacrificed to health services.

The idea of getting a carry kit seems a sound plan.

You get twenty-six of the non- combatants names.  The other nine noncombatants are 1)two atheists who snort at your plans, and one offers to call upon the Great Spaggetti Noodle for you. 2) Three who are 'we're leaving, staying here is crazy'.  3) A devout Messianic Jew who says "I cannot worship other gods than Yeshua." Thing is, when he says this, you feel a Power in the air for a second like it could crack the planet between its fingers. 4)Two who don't say what they are, but shake their heads. 1) A girl who fingers a cross, and says 'no.'

You get started, and then Franze comes over and asks you to restart.  They are willing to add another car to the car fort to make an interior space big enough for your ring.  Once this is done, you get started, enjoying the feeling of greater strength that you got from being commissioned by the Council.  Evidently, authority to work magic on behalf of a community matters, at least a bit.

And once you're done, the energy surge is matched by a flash of white light that outlines the elements of the spell for a second.

+@1 to Ritual Magic of Refuge.

You practise for two hours, and stop for an early dinner.  Its Cheez Whiz salad.  The Cheez Whiz is the dressing, and there are a lot of greens, and something like radishes.  The toddler runs about the circle during the communal meal around the campfire. At first the mother is embarrassed, but Mike tells her its good for everyone. Cheers everyone up.

By the time dinner was being served I had gotten the bone into a rough sword like shape. This I decided was probably the best I could hope for right now. It was my first attempt at making a weapon or tool using primitive techniques. I'd sharpen it after dinner. Which as it turned out was a salad made from various plants and topped with cheez spread. Eh, not the worst  thing I've ever eaten. And as the polish proverb says, hunger is the  best sauce. So I complimented the ones who prepared this dish.

After eating I  spent a few minutes sharpening my newly created weapon. I then took the bone shavings over to those who could use them. Man, it's true. Waiting is the worst part, I thought to myself. Intellectually I knew that whatever forces were being sent after us could take days to weeks to arrive depending on distance and travel method. But at the same time I could see how the stress of waiting could negatively affect everyone. Heck, I was already starting to worry myself into a frenzy.

Thinking about the child having fun running in circles, it gave me an idea. People needed to take their minds off the coming danger. And with options for such distraction limited, why not an age old camping tradition of storytelling. So I gathered anyone who was willing to listen and began telling stories of the more humorous  things that had happened in my life. Tales such as the inept mugger who decided to rob me inside my bank's lobby after I had already deposited my money. And who then was still standing around dumbfounded when the police arrived several minutes later because the criminal was baffled that I only had fifty some cents on me, and not a single credit or debit card.

Or the time when the management at a fast food restaurant I worked at had locked the keys inside the manager's office. And they asked me to climb through the ceiling to retrieve the keys. That day had been a comedy of errors which would have fit in a Three Stooges or Charlie Chaplin movie. With the capstone being that when I finally did manage to get into the office, find the keys, and open the door (never figured out why the door needed a key to unlock on both sides), it was discovered that the shift manager had locked his car keys in the office and not his manager keys. Which left me locked in the office until the sheepish manager found and retrieved his other key ring and opened the door.

After that story I said "Come now, surely some of you have had interesting experiences too. I've  been willing to share mine. Anyone else care to take a turn?"

The cooks smile at your kind words, and one of them giggles.

Also, you notice with the dense fog in the woods, that their travel to get to you is going to be far more difficult.

Franze the Cop tells about a thief who bought a soda drink with his credit card, then robbed the place.

Mike tells how he slept over night in the Outback, and woke up to find a poisonous snake in his sleeping bag.  And how he had to go to the bathroom, and yet could not move, so he waited for four hours until the snake decided to leave.

Sharon tells about a patient with a chronic but mild condition who would get bored, and wander the hospital giving out medical advice to random people.  Weirdly enough most of the advice he gave was pretty good, and he had actually helped out a doctor or two, even though he had no medical training.

The young butcher tells about how he fell in a tidal pool, and lost his glasses, and was about to get them when an octopus snagged them.  No one's sure he's telling the truth.  Peter ends the night going the rest of the way into Tall Tale territory by telling a tale of how he almost caught the Loch Ness Monster with a fishing rod and a ten pound test line.

Laughing, they make their way to bed, many of them giving you a friendly nod as they pass.
Reflecting on the true stories, and the not so true stories, you think that life is weird but splendid, and go to sleep out on the ground with someone else taking your place in the tent.

The next morning I amusedly considered that my screen name, as well as pen name, for years had been Faerie Knight. And here I was in a place where the mythical was real. Still wasn't entirely sure how I felt about putting my life on the line. You always like to think you will step up when push comes to shove. Yet you never do know until it happens. Attacking a griffon hadn't been my brightest idea. In truth I had no clue what had come over me. But it had  been the right thing to do.

Similarly using what knowledge I had to help these people felt like the right thing to do as well. I didn't know them and they didn't know me. I could have easily walked off, leaving them to whatever fate awaited them. Instead I cast my lot with these lost souls. It occurred to me that if I really was going to be a wanderer from here on out, knowing how to hunt and clean my kill would be a good thing. Yet this too would probably have to wait. Speaking of waiting, I realized someone would have to scout the area.

I'm use to not eating much throughout the day. Breakfast was a meal often skipped. Even then I would typically eat a quick sandwich at most three to four times throughout the day. As such I wasn't that hungry yet. Approaching the night watch, I informed them of my intentions. I shouldered my pack and buckled the chest strap to ensure it's weight was evenly distributed. For the moment I had my hip pouch inside the pack. With dagger sheathed on my left hip and  bone sword (really, more of a sharpened club) in hand I set out towards the fog.

I gambled that the fog would hinder the enemy, without hindering myself too much. If not true of course I would turn around and scout for edible nuts and berries. But if my guess was true it would be a huge tactical advantage. Suddenly I wished I had my trenching shovel with me. Oh well, something else to replace when I could. As I walked I took a sip from my water bottle. Which reminded me of another b it of kit from my B.O.B. that would need to be replaced. Namely my canteen and mess kit. Getting a new hobo tool would be nice too. But all of that required getting back to modern civilization. Or at least getting to someplace where I could pick up a water skein or three.

The night watch are not sure you should go, but after a bit of dithering they decide you know what you're doing, and let you go with cautions to be careful.  They look nervously after you as you leave.

In the woods, the fog seems at first to block you, but then you notice its drifting back from whatever you pay attention too.

You're looking for food, and after a half hour, despite the fog's help, you've found precisely two stalks of vegetables that might be edible.

When suddenly a guy jumps up in front of you with an automatic rifle aimed at your face, and a flickering flashlight also aimed at your face.

"Wh...Who goes there?" He asks in English.

"A fellow traveler, lost in the multiverse. I arrived here with a group of civilians from someplace in Germany. Think one of the others mentioned Berlin or something. Could be wrong about exact location though, before recently I'd never set foot out of Iowa." I quickly replied. "You're from the armored division that got caught up in this mess, right? This actually might work out since I've got info the commander might need regarding possible dangers here. Both natural and more immediate. Name's Andrew, by the way."

The gun and flashlight told me this man probably wasn't local. And assault rifles generally weren't owned by law abiding civilians. So logic suggested he was military. And the only military unit I knew of here was the tank division and the forces of Count Not-Very-Nice. But if he was from an infantry unit that got caught up in this mess, his commanders really needed to know what was going on.

Of course, having a gun pointed at me was making me feel a little nervous. Getting shot at then shot and presumably killed tends to do that. Hopfully the US military surplus field pack I had with me, as well as my distinctly modern earth cloths would help identify me as not a local. Granted, the fact I am armed was probably a point against me. Didn't have a sheath for the main weapon, so I instead held it pointing at the ground with the crude blade pointing away from me.

"Jim. Jim Swanson. Pfc." He lowers his rifle, and with real feeling says, "I'm glad to see you sir. I'm from Ohio, and was supposed to be up on the Polish-Russian border, but we missed our transport, and so we were halfway to Poland in a Humvee, trying to catch up, when things got weird." His voice catches. "I know about the dangers. But I don't have a working radio. It died in the first hour we were here."

He backs up, and by the light of his flashlight, you can see a well-hidden camp without fire.  Nextto the sleeping bag, you can see a pile of shredded mushrooms.

"Then you may not know about the forces heading this way. Didn't learn about that till yesterday morning. A nasty sort decided to take those who've arrived here as slaves. The fog was called up by an... ally, I suppose you could say, I was able to contact to slow down the army. I was out here scouting for food supplies, and for good places to set up a few traps."

My grin was rather predatory. While normally a nice person, I do have a bit of a vicious streak. That's usually channeled into video games and snark. But in this case I was willing to make an exception. The very idea of slavery was one that I severely disliked. While intellectually I knew it happened even in modern times, it still got on my nerves. It was just that I couldn't do anything about it. I'm no revolutionary. But I had the sinking suspicion that provided I survived the next week or so, I'd be drawn into conflict with Count Arrogant. Wasn't sure how I felt about that.

Actually, no I did know how I felt. The idea was quite frankly terrifying. The idea that an army was approaching to enslave and/or kill those near me (and me too) was enough to cause a panic attack. Which was why I was constantly trying to stay focused on other things. Such as preparation for the inevitable attack.

"You wouldn't happen to have a trenching shovel would you? I'm thinking a few pit traps hidden in the fog could really ruin the day of mounted calvary."

"Slaves?!?" He grunts. "Not okay. I'm an American." He says that last like a warcry.  He opens up his back pack and pulls out two trenching tools.

"We, ah, well, I took this off Hector's backpack." He shows one.

"As the saying goes, give me liberty or give me death. But between you and me, I'd rather have liberty. Anyway, I should get back to the others soon with what food I've scrounged up. I don't know how much time we have. But it may only be a few days. Wouldn't happen to know where the rest of your men are, would you? I'd imagine when the troops arrive it's not going to be safe to be alone. Mean time, anything you can set up to hinder the attackers would be good."

"Patton or ah...anyways....said ...let the other guy die for his country.  I can dig some holes, but I need to know where this opfor is coming from.  Can't just dig holes all over the woods, need to find a chokepoint or something."

When you ask the question about his others, his face goes very still.

"Carl Johnson, specialist, and Hector Rose, pfc. were killed by some creature that looked like a woman, but lived under water.  I was gathering mushrooms to go poison her water.  About two clicks that way." He points deeper into the forrest.  He goes on to tell you that his main group is about 250 klicks back your way up near the Polish-Russian border.

I point out the direction of the camp I'd come from. "The people I arrived with are back that way. And since my contact put up this fog bank here, I'm thinking the forces will come from this direction Beyond that, not entirely sure myself. Wait, a woman in a lake killed your friends? Can you describe her better? Just from that description it could be anything from a mermaid to water nymph or naiad. And depending on what it is, she may be a guardian for the area or actually be hostile to surface dwellers. While all supernatural are dangerous, not everything is actively hostile."

"OK...I'll head that way, look for a chokepoint.  Um-m, she was clear skinned like glass, then beautiful, then her mouth was teeth.  She didn't have a tail, I don't think.  I don't know any more about nay-adds or whatever."

"Not sure exactly what that is, but I'll look into it. Wouldn't count on the rest of your unit being here though. As far as I can tell, we're not on Earth anymore. Stay safe Jim," I told him before heading back to the encampment.

What Jim had described sounded kind of like a naiad. But then it also sounded a bit like some of the nastier unseelie I'd read about. As such the others needed to be warned about it. Not to mention delivering the food supplies I'd scrounged up. Running into Jim however did also bring up a new and alarming thought. How many others were out there? How many people who didn't know about the dangers this world had to offer? While any units of soldiers were likely to be capable of defending them self, civilians weren't.

That thought brought me up short. Since when did I stop classifying myself as a civilian? I'd promised a soldier I would look into something which had already killed two soldiers. That was, quite frankly, rather insane. I'd told those cops I'm an expert in these types of things, sort of. But in truth I was probably as far over my head as they were. I just had enough theoretical knowledge to know I was in deep trouble. And I still couldn't believe I'd actually volunteered to distract an honest to gods griffon.

Yet all I could do was keep moving forward. If I didn't then the I'd be overwhelmed by the sheer overwhelming terror this whole situation inspired. I had to project a calm facade to keep moral up among the others. They were looking to me for answers and protection. It was that fact which terrified me the most. I'm no saint. Nor am I a scholar. Hero material? Ha, I wished. Yet I was the best they had.

As I neared the camp I called out "Hello the camp!"

The guards jump up, and for a second you think you're going to shot by accident.  Which would stink.

Then you're let in, and a weight drops off your shoulders as you stop looking over your shoulder, and straining to hear something approaching you.  You brief the guards who nod solemnly, and redouble their peering into the dark.

Sleep comes quickly, and with it bad dreams, but then they go away as a sense of peace fills the air.

That morning, you meet with the Council.

An hour later, Jim comes in, saying that he's dug fifty small pits, and set a few other traps.

Three hours later, the edge of the wood stirs, and a dozen creatures built like short apes with tusks coming out of their mouths, and very widely spaced eyes, clad in leather armor, and armed with axes or spears emerges.

Behind them, a man, no something man-like, but tall, thin, pale rides out on horseback.  His armor seems to be copper scales.  His ears are pointed.  He looks with contempt on the lot of you.

He makes a small gesture.

"KNEEL SLAVES!!!" Booms out over the North Sheep Pasture.

After the night I'd had, trouble was almost expected. Maybe that was why I'd made sure the children and non-combatants were within the circle after the council meeting. Or maybe it was paranoia. Either way I was rather glad when the nutjob yelled for us to kneel. I knelt all right, and closed the circle. Then after a brief incantation to activate the protective circle I stood and pulled out my bone sword. I joined the others at the perimeter and snarled.

"You think to intimidate us with beast men? I have seen death rain from the sky and cities burned in toxic fire. Alone and unarmed I have stared into the face of death, and death blinked. When Apsu the Destroyer awoke, I was there to force the dark god back into eternal slumber. Dragons tremble when they hear my name. I am Andrew Wellington, Knight of Faerie, Realm traveler and champion of Good. And beside me are warriors the likes you have never imagined. And you think we'll bow our heads in slavery? Then may Aramintha guide my hand."

Okay, granted it had been while playing in a superhero campaign that I'd fought Apsu, not in real life. And it was only when playing my high level fantasy characters that dragons trembled upon hearing my name. And also granted I had only seen atomic blasts in historical footage and movies. Similarly I hadn't personally seen any bombs being dropped, that too was in news footage. But this guy didn't know that. And neither did his troops. Staring death in the face though, that was true enough. I'd terrified a few muggers who tried accosting me. And I really did make it a point to be on friendly terms with the fair folk. It was less annoying that way.

"I give you one chance. Turn around and head back home. Otherwise we will destroy you all."

Mocking catcalls with a nervous edge to them come back to you from the beastmen.  The rider frowns, and the Germans near you clap your shoulders.

"I am Sir Telisawyn Ipricor, a Knight of the Ellala Empire, and vassal to the Count.  This sword has drunk the blood of hundreds of Red, and Yellow, and Purple Humans.  You will die as easily as they did Sir Wellington. Kneel now, and you will have mercy.  Fight, and your souls will feed the Emperor."

He's not making any effort, but his voice is easily heard over the whole area.

Okay, it was true that I was rather scared. But my back was against the wall here. These people trusted me. They believed in me. And that was kind of frightening. I was no great hero. I was a normal man. Maybe one with a few unusual experiences and oddball knowledge. But still just a normal man who was in over his head. The only thing special about me was my temper, and that I struggled with constantly. But perhaps that was what was needed here. Not some legendary hero, but an average joe who refused to back down in the face of evil.

"So be it then," I said with far more confidence then I actually felt. "You had your chance to back down. Fire when ready. I'll deal with the so-called knight."

With that I drew my dagger and prepared to fight for my life. Not to mention for the lives of everyone with me. This elfin man was armored and probably using a magic sword. Me, I was wielding a crudely made griffin bone sword and a dagger. I was unarmored too, which meant I had to avoid being hit far more then him. This was, in a word, bad. But in all my research into myth and legend I learned there is a magic in intent. That one of pure heart can, and in the past often has accomplished things others might consider impossible. That the greatest of heroes were normal men and women who stepped forth when things were at their darkest.

I was no hero, but in that moment, on that day I would step up to do what was right. And perhaps it would be enough. Or maybe not. Maybe we would all die here. But even in death, heroism can be found. As I strode forward these thoughts swirled around in my mind. The rage I had struggled with for years I embraced fully for the first time. And with that embracing of my fury I found a sort of clarity I'd never experienced  before. The next words I spoke were a surprise even to me.

"Of my own free will I pledge my service to Lady Aramintha. With a glad heart I swear to fight true Evil where ever I may find it. My life in service do I offer, my sword in defense of innocent. So I swear, so mote it be!"

With that I brought my bone sword down in a downward arc from left to right. My dagger I held ready to try parrying the elfin knight's sword.

Rage fills you, and a crystalline clarity sharpens the scene.  In an instant you can count the scales running up the rider's armor, and just as quickly discard it as non-essential.  There is no place for fear or doubt.

And your voice rings out in the clearing even as the first guns blast out violent justice.

Four of the beastmen stagger, but its going to take more than one bullet to bring them down quickly.

And you hear in your mind.Accepted, Champion.

The rider yells at the beastmen to get out of the way, and he charges forward to meet you.  The beastmen rush behind.  And as you get closer, you notice a half-dozen more beastmen, all wounded behind them in the treeline.  Most have leg wounds.  They are not charging.

He's riding low and fast, looking to pierce you thru the left shoulder, and you throw up the dagger to block, and suddenly his blade flicks just below yours and stabs you through the left lung.  You wheel, not feeling any pain, and slice a little bit under his scales and into his back as he charges past you.

And then you look down to see the hole and realize you're dead.  And then the wound closes.  It still hurts, terribly, but you can breathe, and you're not bleeding, anymore.  Maybe you're not dead.

The knight is coming back at you after he wheels his horse about, and kicks it into a charge.  The crack of gunfire forms a distant backgrounnd, and you hear the bellowing roars of anger, and pain from the beastmen as they surge past you.