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THE MECHANICS OF PEACE:
By Lord Davidian (yours trully ;-) )

"The way of the gun is the only way."

PROLOGUE:

      Greetings gracious readers! My long (but quite eventful) journey across the vast landscape of Arcanum has finally come to an end. The time has come for me to express, in writing, the perrils and pitfalls of my many and varied experiences as I travelled throughout this mysterious and wunderous land. I, therefore, present to you the first installment of one of many epic tales which I call "The Mechanics of Peace":


      It was a calm moon-lit night in the prestine Benlith forest. The generators nearby supplied the not-so-distant city of Copperville with the energetic nightlife it was famous for.

      Delvun Oakwood sat peacefully atop the oak tree under which he was birthed. He crossed his legs under him and took in a deep breath of the sweet night air. The familiar smells of burning inscence and dampened wood permiated throughout the forest and filled his nostrils. The low, steady hum given off by the generators just beyond the tranquil forest oddly added to the young Elf's sense of inner peace.

      Delvun enjoyed climbing up to his favorite spot far above his village after a long rain. It gave him time to think and reflect on current happenings.

      Looking down upon the many wooden huts scattered along the ground far below, Delvun envied how soundly his Kindred could sleep while the Elders continued their loud, incessant chanting. Every night of a full moon this would start and, so, every full moon Delvun would forego sleep, finding solitude only in meditating atop this great oak tree.

      Sure, Delvun understood why the chanting was necessary; without it, the Earth Goddess Kyra would cease granting the Elders the powers of magick. What he could not understand, however, was why magick was so important. Delvun came to believe that any problems he faced could easily be dealt with using his bow and blade.

      The Elders dismissed the naive Youngblood's notions as he dismissed theirs; stating that he was too young to fully appreciate the heritage behind the "Magick Traditions". Delvun cared not for their ramblings but respected them nonetheless.

       It was nearly five hours past the rising of the full moon. Soon the chanting of the Elders would finally cease and a new day would begin. "Thanks be to Kyra for that.", Delvun thought to himself, chuckling out loud.

       A village meeting would take place this morning, Delvun realized. The topic of much debate lately has been whether or not the growing expansion of Copperville posed a real threat to the sacred forest. Also, what precautions, if any, should be taken to ensure the sanctity of the forest and it's many inhabitants. Delvun could only assume that these would be the pressing questions posed at the meeting.

      Being a mere Youngblood of fourty-two cycles of age, Delvun knew he would have little say in the matters. Nonetheless, he was very interested in voicing his opinion and in hearing what others had to say.

      Delvun's feelings were decided at this moment after much meditation. He could find no logical reason to fear a city that for many cycles has respected the boundries set forth by the Elders. "Besides,", he reasoned to himself, "you can't really halt the march of progress, right?" ........

 
Chapter 1 - The Headline

      The unforgiving heat radiating from the mid-day sun beat down on the unassuming citizens of Copperville as they went about their daily doings. Meanwhile, a spritely, wide-eyed young lad of fifteen (whom most everyone knew simply as 'Chappy') stood patiently on the corner of Miner and Smelter Streets -- aptly named because the sprawling city of Copperville was, after all, built on the copper ore trade as much as on the blood and sweat of the tireless individuals (Dwarves mostly) who worked with it.
      The various retail shops, industrial buildings and trade centers as well as the crowded streets clearly identified this section as the heart of the city. This was an obvious spot for Chappy to peddle the stack of newspapers held securely under his left arm. Perspiration already began to form on his forehead as the ambitious young lad savored one last bite of an apple he had 'procured' from a fruit vendor earlier in the day. His belly as satisifed as it was going to be, Chappy tossed the core of the apple into a nearby alley where a sickly-looking rat eagerly awaited it's noon-time meal.

      A drop of the collecting perspiration fell from Chappy's brow and stung his left eye. He removed his frayed grey twill cap and, in a huff of frustration, wiped his forehead and brow with an equally frayed handkerchief that he withdrew from his back pants pocket. It was going to be a long, hot day for sure, but that didn't faze the determined young Chappy in the least.

      "HEAR YE! HEAR YE! READ ABOUT IT HERE! OUR BELOVED MAYOR, LAWRENCE GRISKILL, DISCOVERED DEAD LATE LAST NIGHT! READ IT HERE FIRST!" , hollered Chappy while boldly holding up a copy of the Copperville Confidential's noon edition in his right hand. He turned from side to side like a revolving billboard so that the front page could be easily seen by passers-by.

      Out of the corner of one eye, Chappy noticed a large black carriage approaching down Smelter Street, slowing as it neared him. The big scarlet-colored stenoscripted 'V' boldly displayed on the right door panel clearly identified this carriage as being from the fleet of 'Victor's Luxury Taxis'. Chappy darted excitedly up to the carriage taxi and peered into the round opening above the door pannel. "Paper mister? Only two coins will get ya all the news ya need," he said confidently before flashing his best smile.

      "Sure thing kid," replied the mysterious man in the carriage. No wait! Not a man...a male Dwarf! Immaculately dressed and groomed as well?!? As if that wasn't odd enough, Chappy blinked in astonishment to see a beautiful young blonde woman resting her head on the gentleman Dwarf's broad shoulder. The only thing that wasn't unusual about the scene was the half-smoked cigar clenched between the Dwarf's polished teeth; it was common knowledge that Dwarves very much enjoyed tobacco, especially cigars.

      Chappy suddenly realized something...he had seen this Dwarf before, but where...? Chappy just stood their in disbelief, while also trying to place the face of the mysterious Dwarf. Meanwhile, the boy's customer dug into the breast pocket of his black, velvet-lined suit jacket and fished out two coins.

      "Yes! Now I remember!" Chappy thought to himself, "Mr. Thundersmith, that's his name...Mr. Gangril Thundersmith! Wealthy owner of the very sucessful Thundersmith Copper Exchange". Relieved that the mysterious Dwarf now had a name, Chappy was now able to focus on the fact that Mr. Gangril Thundersmith was clearing his throat to get his attention. "Oh...sorry Mr. Thundersmith. Must be the heat. Gets to ya after awhile, ya know?" Chappy said, followed by yet another charming smile. It was the best excuse he could come up with under the circumstances. Gangril eyed the inexperienced liar suspiciously and handed him the coins without a word.
"Um...thank you, Mr. Thundersmith...and good day to you sir" Chappy uttered weakly before handing Gangril his paper and sprinting back to his selling spot, feeling quite embarassed now.

      Gangril now devoted his full attention to the headline emblazoned on the front page of the paper. A broad grin formed on his face as scanned the words. He then nudged his beautiful blonde companion awake. "Hey my dear, listen to this", Gangril began; his cigar still firmly clenched between his polished teeth
      "COPPERVILLE'S CITIZENS MOURN DEATH OF THEIR BELOVED MAYOR!". He then continued on with the main story, "At approximately 9:45 p.m. yesterday evening, the body of honorable Mayor Lawrence Griskill was discovered dead in his downtown office. The person responsible for the discovery was the mayor's secretary of three years, Ms. Angelica Goodwyn." The now delighted Gangril paused briefly, "Look my dear, you're in the paper...hahaha." Angelica just flashed a quick smile as she tried to stay awake. The time she spent at the police station last night answering questions clearly took its toll on the young woman.

      Gangril skiped down a few paragraphs and continued to read allowed, "The local coroner pronounced the body officially dead at 10:37 p.m. The cause of death was found to be massive heart failure and there is no suspiscion of foul play at this time. A private funeral service will be held at St. Celestine Church on Friday, August 14th at 11:00 a.m. His honor will be missed by all citizens of Copperville." Gandril couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably "Yeah, I miss the poor bugger already".

      "I did good, huh Gandy?" inquired Angelica affectionately, though she already knew the answer.

      "Yes you did my dear. I believe this was your best job yet. No one suspects a thing."

      "I just hope it will be worth the risk. I never killed a public official before, let alone the Mayor."

      "Not to worry. Soon we will own this whole damned city!"

      A sudden urge came over the now gleeful Gandril and he dug into the breast pocket of his velvet-lined black suit jacket again to fish out a few more coins."Hey kid!" he shouted towards Chappy, who's back was now facing the carriage.

      The nervous lad turned around to face the direction of the voice. "Ya...yes sir, Mr. Thundersmith?" he stammered, thinking he now must surely be in trouble for soo rudely staring just minutes ago.

      "Come here!" Gandril insisted, "I forgot to give you something."

      Chappy cautiously approached the carriage taxi and gulped hard. "I am truly sorry for staring at you and the lovely misses, Mr. Thundersmith", he admitted sincerely; eyeing each passenger in turn. "It was not at all appropriate and I..."

      "Never mind that my boy! Here take this." Gandril grabbed the nervous lad's hand and slapped the coins into his now sweaty palm.

      Chappy's eyes were transfixed in awe of the coins as they glittered hypnotically in the noon day sun. "Yet another strange surprise", he thought to himself. The thought was justified by the simple fact that no one had ever given the poor lad something for nothing. "Wha...what is this for, sir?"

      "Simply for the glorious news you brought to me on this fine day", replied Gandril gleefully. "Now be off with you lad, I have much work to do today", he bellowed; now looking forward rather than at the boy. "Onward driver!"

      "Thank you sir!" Chappy shouted as the carriage taxi quickly pulled away. He was puzzled by what Mr. Thundersmith just said, but the coins now jingling in his pants pocket quickly made him forget.
Chapter 2 - The Gathering

      A large crowd was already gathering before the small, simple podium. As the crowd grew, so did the level of murmurs and idle chat among the curious Kindred. Delvun Oakwood's eyes fluttered as he came to the realization that he had carelessly succumbed to the need for sleep! Half climbing, half leaping; Delvun nimbly descended the mighty and majestic oak tree he long ago claimed as his sanctuary. With all possible haste, he sprinted to where the crowd was gathering; not even allowing time to curse himself for being late.
      Delvun held back the urge to fight the crowds for a better view of the podium and, instead, resigned himself to keeping a respectable distance. He knew from experience how cruel most of his fellow Kindred were about him being born without the innate attributes needed for the practice of magick which nearly all his Kindred had. The fact that Delvun was quite muscular for an Elf and that he utilized taboo 'below earth' metals in the crafting of his bow and longsword didn't help matters either. When you add to all this the fact that Delvun's mother died giving birth and that his father had been missing and presumed dead for nearly thirty-six cycles, you could easily conclude that his life had been more than unfair. You would be right. Nonetheless, with every hardship he had to endure, for every challenge he had to overcome, the vigilant Youngblood became that much more stronger and self-reliant.

      After a few minutes, a hush swept over the now fully packed crowd as those who could see the podium caught sight of three Elders slowly making their way up the steps towards the podium proper; their heads slightly bowed and arms hidden in the openings of their wide sleeves. All three were covered from head to toe in rust-colored hooded robes held together with simple rope tied tightly about the waist; their faces hidden from view. The one in the middle was clearly Chief Elder Balrun because he wore the coveted Necklace of the Ages. The necklace was made from many rare colorful stones and was said to enhance its wearer's magick abilities.

      The Elders on either side of Chief Elder Balrun sat down at opposite ends of the podium proper; arms and faces still hidden from view. Meanwhile, Balrun slowly and with great care freed his arms and pulled back the hood of his robe, letting it cascade down around his delicate shoulders and exposing his pale, weathered face. He then motioned for all those gathered before him to sit down where they were. Once all were seated with their legs crossed under them, he began to speak.

      "Greetings my Kindred brothers and sisters. May the blessings of Kyra be upon you." Balrun's voice was somber to match his expression and his hands were clasped firmly together as if in prayer.

      "And to you," came the unanimous reply.

      "Recent events have taken place which effect us all." Balrun paused briefly to look out among the crowd which was now hanging on his every word. Even with Delvun's keen hearing, he had to strain to hear what was being said. "I have received sad news just hours ago that the spirit of Copperville's Mayor, Lawrence Griskill, left his body during last eve's full moon."

      "A collective look of shock followed by that of sorrow formed on the faces of the hushed crowd, and for good reason. Not only was Mayor Griskill trusted and respected by the entire Elven tribe in Benlith Forrest, but he also happened to pass away during a full moon! It was believed by this particular Elven tribe that someone died during a full moon, their spirit became restless; unable to rest until whatever deeds were left undone are finished (similar to a ghost).

      "Fear not my Kindred brothers and sisters..." Balrun continued, hoping to wash away the sea of sorrow he witnessed before him "...for I have also received news that the acting Mayor wishes to meet with me to discuss an extension to the current peace treaty's deadline." With those reassuring words, the looks of sorrow slowly turned into looks of relief. Balrun then made his closing statements, "As I am expecting the acting Mayor very shortly, I must now bring this brief gathering to a close. I will schedule another such gathering once my meeting with the acting Mayor is concluded. Any questions you may have will be answered at that time. With your blessings and the blessing of Kyra, I now take my leave of you."

      The murmurs and idle chat that ended with the arrival of the three Elders now resumed as the crowd stood and slowly dispersed. Meanwhile, Balrun carefully and meticulously replaced the hood of his rope over his head and slid his arms back through the wide sleeves of his robe; then all three Elders left the podium exactly as they arrived. Delvun had many questions that would have to go unanswered; at least for now.
Chapter 3 - The Meeting

      Chief Elder Balrun's longtime friend and trusted advisor, Tatsun, stood rigid; unwavering, but visibly nervous--as if waiting to be greeted by oblivion.The only part of his statue-like form that moved were his thumbs; circling each other in an endless chase while his hands were clasped tightly together and resting at the small of his back. To his immediate left sat a perfectly at ease Balrun in one of ten intricately carved oak high-backed chairs surrounding a long equally intricately carved oak table. These were the only furnishings in an otherwise bare, but spacious tent.
      "Relax Tatsun. Sit and partake of some herb tea," insisted Balrun as he poured two cups of the steaming green liquid, earnestly wanting to ease his dear friend's tension. The pungent aroma of the green tea mingled with that of burning incense made for a very potent calming effect that was hard to resist. The use of these products of nature was a time-honored tradition believed to aid in negotiations with enemies, both potential and obvious. Tatsun reluctantly sat down; more out of respect for his Chief and friend than because of the draw of the potent aroma filling the tent.

       "Now...tell me Tatsun, what is it exactly that bothers you so?" inquired Balrun who was growing wary of Tatsun's still voice.

      "With respect to your wisdom, Balrun, this meeting you are about to have is...ill-advised" replied Tatsun after taking a long sip of the herb tea in front of him and letting its mellowing effects soothe him somewhat. He was actually relieved to finally have the opportunity to speak his mind.

      "How so Tatsun?" probed Balrun just before taking a long sip of his own herb tea.

      "Well, it's a very strong felling I..." Tatsun's response was abruptly cut short by the sudden appearance of another Elder just outside the tents entrance. Balrun's and Tatsun's attentions were now focused on the Elder messenger.

      The Elder messenger's tone was calm but slightly breathless, "Excuse me Elders. Your expected guest and his assistants have arrived."

      "Thank you Falnun. Please, show them in" requested Balrun as both he and Tatsun rose from their chairs and straightened their robes in preparation for meeting the new mayor.

      Falnun bowed slightly and slowly turned to leave. He returned moments later and ushered the group of four directly behind him into the tent. Finally, he turned and left without uttering a word.

      Balrun's and Tatsun's eyes widened in disbelief of what they witnessed standing before them! "The acting Mayor is...is a foul-smelling, ill-mannered Dwarf!?!" They both thought exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. Their reaction was to be expected, however, since the only Dwarves they had ever made contact with were the ones who worked in the copper mines which stretched to the very borders of Benlith Forrest itself. A camp was set up for the workers to sleep at night since not even their employers wanted them in Copperville after dark. More than a few of the Dwarven mine workers staggered their way into the Elven village deep within Benlith Forrest; smelling of intoxication, swearing, and forcing themselves on Elven females. Such vile creatures they were!

      "But wait! This Dwarf is very different" Balrun quickly came to realize. From his posture to his grooming to his clothing; everything about this unusual Dwarf spelled 'civilized gentleman'. He even carried a fine ivory and oak cane, though he showed no visible limp in his gait. "Apparently, not all Dwarves are the same" Balrun surmised, "How encouraging." The now slightly wiser Balrun forced himself out of his appraising state of mind. "Greetings!" he began while now focusing on the Dwarf's eyes "You must be the acting Mayor of Copperville. Allow me to offer my condolences regarding Mayor Griskill's untimely demise. I pray, as we all do, that his gentle spirit will soon find rest."

      The gentleman Dwarf didn't know what was meant by Mayor Griskill's spirit finding rest and neither did he care; he had business to conclude and that took priority over everything. "Forgive me Chief Elder Balrun, but I am actually the acting Mayor's...representative. His honor could not attend this meeting today due pressing...inaugural duties."

      "I see" muttered Balrun with mild annoyance as a dark cloud of suspicion began to form.

      "Allow me to introduce myself and my entourage" the gentleman Dwarf continued, "I am Mr. Gangril Thundersmith; proprietor of the Thundersmith Copper Exchange of Copperville. Behind me are my business associates Grog and Gorg and the lovely lady to my right is my...companion, Ms. Angelica Goodwyn."

      Balrun was so engrossed in his appraisal of Gangril that he hadn't really noticed the others in his company. The blond-haired, blue-eyed young human woman was indeed quite striking, even by Elven standards. As for the other two individuals; they were another story altogether. Looking half-human and half wild boar-like, Balrun could only assume they were Half-Orcs based on what he had read of the other races residing throughout Arcanum. Balrun jokingly thought to himself that if he were a hundred cycles younger and saw these two in alone in the Forrest, he wouldn't know whether to hunt them down for their hides or offer them some herb tea; which reminded him: "Would anyone care to sit and partake of some tea? It is quite soothing."

Gangril eyed the pungent green liquid warily and spoke for everyone,"No...thank you. We are actually in a bit of a hurry. His honor is keeping us on a very tight schedule I'm afraid."

      The annoyance and suspicion continued to swell inside Balrun, but being the Chief Elder, he kept his feelings well hidden. "Very well than. I do not wish to keep you from your pressing duties. I have a few ideas I would like to go over with you regarding the acting Mayor's proposal to extend the duration of our current treaty..."

      "Oh dear," interrupted Gangril, feigning surprise. "I fear you have been misinformed, Chief Elder Balrun. You see, I am not here to discuss the treaty; rather I am here to make you a very generous offer. I wish to purchase your land from you and relocate your tribe to an equally beautiful Forest not far from here."

      Balrun and Tatsun could not contain their feelings any longer as their mutual annoyance quickly turned to outrage. Tatsun fumed as he excused himself as politely as he could and stormed out of the tent before doing something he would regret.

      "Where is he off to then?" asked Gangril, not really caring.

      "Never mind that, Mr. Thundersmith." Gangril was somewhat surprised at Balrun's suddenly sharp tone. "You insult me and my Kindred with your...proposal, sir!"

      Gangril was at a loss for words. All he could manage was "I don't understand."

      Balrun tried to explain as best he could under the circumstances, "Over one thousand cycles ago, well before any other race set foot on this land, my Kindred ancestors laid claim to this land and made it their home. It is through Earth Goddess Kyra's wisdom and good will that we are one with this Forrest and, so, it is one with us. We cannot; we will not leave that which Kyra has provided for us! I wish that you leave this Forrest now, lest my anger be shown to you! From this moment hence, I will speak only to the Mayor himself or I will speak to no one!"

      Just then, out of the corner of one eye Balrun could see Angelica reaching for what appeared to be some sort of weapon holstered and previously hidden under her sleeveless vest. With amazing dexterity and swiftness, Balrun waved his left arm in a half-circle and uttered what sounded like "Stay thy hand." Suddenly, Angelica was unable to withdraw the pepper-barreled pistol from its holster. It was as if her hand was frozen in time.

      Gangril's jaw dropped at what he had just witnessed. He had heard of magick in the past, but had never actually seen it used since practitioners of the art were outlawed in Copperville for reasons of safety and control. "Please forgive Ms. Goodwyn, Chief Elder Balrun. She tends to over react to bad news. We will leave at once." Gangril flashed a smile at Angelica which said that he was tempted to do the same thing to the stubborn old Elf.

      As Gangril and his cohorts left the village limits, Tatsun returned to the meeting tent. "There will be hard times ahead Tatsun" Balrun admitted as he slumped back into his chair and stared into his now ice-cold tea cup. "Hard times indeed."

      Tatsun nodded in agreement and inquired, "Shall I call for a gathering now, Balrun?"

      "No, not just yet" insisted Balrun, as an idea came to him. "Find the Youngblood, Delvun Oakwood, and bring him to me. I have a special mission for him."

      Tatsun looked puzzled and curious, but carried out his Chief's orders nonetheless.
Chapter 4 - The Mission

      Somewhere deep within the pristine, undisturbed natural beauty that was Benlith Forest crouched Delvun Oakwood; as still and silent at this moment as the Forest was itself. As was expected of any good Elven hunter; his breathing was done through the nostrils--even and controlled to pick up the slightest scent of possible prey, his eyes were relaxed but focused for the widest possible field of view, his sensitive Elven ears were poised to twitch in the direction of the slightest sound--the snapping of a twig or perhaps the sampling of a tasty leaf from a nearby bush and, most importantly, his carefully crafted (and very unique) bow was at the ready--steel tipped oak arrow nestled in the notch of the bow and supported by the coarse pocket between Delvun's thumb and forefinger.
      Delvun could think of no better place he would rather be at this moment than here, among the majestic ancient trees, thick green bushes and colorful fragrant flowers which made up most of Benlith Forest. It was his home; his reason for being and this was his claimed hunting spot, just as the great oak tree under which he was birthed was his claimed sanctuary. Still, he couldn't help but feel that something was missing; something he just couldn't seem to put his finger on. It was a feeling he had for as long as he could remember. It wasn't a longing for love or acceptance; he learned long ago to do very well without such distractions. It certainly wasn't a desire for wealth and comfort; everything he needed, Kyra provided for in nature. Perhaps it was a yearning for adventure beyond the confines of Benlith Forest. "Stop thinking such forbidden thoughts!" he scolded himself. "The Elders would never allow a Kindred to explore beyond the safety of this Forest. Still, every day the desire grows; gnawing at my very soul. Gnawing...a deer! There's a full grown deer gnawing at that bush!" He suddenly realized, cursing himself for letting his impossible desires distract him from the important task at hand.

      Delvun's prey stood in front of a large, leafy bush just to the left of his current position which was behind an equally large, leafy bush. Luckily for Delvun, the deer hadn't noticed him yet. Slowly and with great care not to make the slightest sound, he lifted his bow to the level of his right eye while tightly closing his left one. He then tilted his head slightly to the left and pulled back on the taut bow string, keeping his prey well within his unwavering sights. He withdrew a slow, even breath and...

      "Delvun, I knew you would be here." Delvun jumped in surprise as did his prey. The voice was calm, but loud enough to scare off the deer he had waited patiently for a long time to get in his sights. It scampered away, lucky enough to live yet another day.

      "What is it!?!" Delvun huffed in anger, before turning to face an annoyed Tatsun! "Oh! Please forgive me Elder Tatsun. I did not know it was you."

      "Come! Chief Elder Balrun wishes to have words with you." The look of annoyance did not leave Tatsun's aged face and neither did he give any indication of forgiveness for Delvun's disrespectful words. Tatsun was one of many Kindred who treated Delvun with indignation simply because he was not a 'true' Kindred Elf. Delvun followed Tatsun's lead, half expecting to be in some sort of trouble. "It looks like this going to be a really bad day," he somberly admitted to himself.

      "You...wanted to speak with me, Chief Elder Balrun?" Delvun asked, standing nervously just outside the meeting tent entrance as Tatsun walk away to go about his daily business.

      "Yes, Delvun. Please, come in and sit down for a moment."

      Delvun took a seat next to Balrun and looked at him expectantly. Judging by Balrun's pleasant tone of voice, Delvun now knew he was not in trouble.

      Still, he was curious as to why he was sent for.

      Balrun folded his arms across his chest and drew in a long breath, deeply inhaling the still-burning incense next to him. "Delvun, I'm afraid the meeting I just had did not go well at all," he began matter-of-factly. "A Dwarf by the name of Mr. Gangril Thundersmith came in place of the acting Mayor of Copperville. His intentions were less than honorable. Rather than offering to extend the deadline of the treaty we have all come to depend on for survival, he wished to purchase our sacred land and do Kyra knows what with it. He then offered to relocate our tribe to another Forest; as if he had any knowledge of what was best for Elven Kindred! Only Kyra can grant such vision. He claimed that I was misinformed regarding his intentions for meeting with me, but I believe him to be nothing more than a deceiving opportunist."

      Delvun was shocked, concerned and puzzled; all at the same time. "That is truly upsetting and disturbing, but what does it all have to do with me specifically?"

      Balrun took another deep breath before answering. "Well, I have a difficult mission for you Delvun. One that, if successful, could very well save our village from ruin. I need you to go to Copperville and find out what you can about Mr. Thundersmith's interest in our Forest..."

      Delvun could not believe his pointed Elven ears. He was shocked that Balrun, the Chief Elder, suggested he go to Copperville--a place any other Kindred would be forbidden to go. At the same time, he was thrilled at the prospect of fulfilling his desire to experience life outside the confines of his Forest home.

      "...All I know about him is that he runs a business called 'The Thundersmith Copper Exchange' and he is very well groomed and mannered. He is accompanied by an attractive blond-haired woman by the name of Angelica Goodwyn. Be careful of her. She is armed and has a short temperament. Also with Mr. Thundersmith are two Half-Orcs by the names of Grog and Gorg. They look to be identical twins so you should easily recognize them. Mr.Thundersmith claims they are his 'business associates', but they look to me to be more in the capacity of his bodyguards. Be wary of any Half-Orcs you meet, Delvun; they tend to be an unpredictable race. Of course, I can't force you to take on this dangerous mission..."

      "I will do whatever is necessary to preserve the sanctity of this land and the safety of my fellow Kindred!" Delvun bellowed with much bravado, uncommon though it was for any Elf.

      "Excellent! It does my heart proud to hear you say that, Delvun."

      "Thank you Chief Elder Balrun. If I may inquire, though, why have you chosen me for this assignment?"

      "Good question and one that deserves a good answer. You see Delvun, Copperville has one very strict law; no one who is capable of using the art of magick is allowed to enter the city for reasons of safety and control. Apparently there have been too many incidents of magick abuse and misuse in the past. I have learned from reliable sources that Copperville has an unusual machine at its entrance. Part of this machine is a portal which acts as the city's entranceway and which displays the aura colors of anyone passing through it. Those who are capable of magick use would display a red aura if they passed through the portal. Since you are the only Kindred with no innate magick capability, only you can safely enter the city and carry out this important mission. You are strong, clever and self-reliant. Because of these rare traits, my confidence in you swells within me."

      "I shall endeavor not to disappoint you, Chief Elder Balrun" Delvun said reassuringly but not sure if he was really up to the task.

      "I know this to be true." Balrun poured two fresh cups of the green tea from the still hot teapot. "Now, have some tea. I have much to teach you about what to expect in the city before I can let you go..."
Chapter 5 - The Beast

      The night wind wailed in gusty anger as ominously dark grey clouds rolled hauntingly past a pale blue moon. Delvun wasted no time with sympathetic goodbyes (not that many would care), sensing that a powerful storm was sure to soon rage forth. He paused only briefly totake one last look at his village home as he tied his free flowing golden lochs into a single tight braid which extended to midway down his back.
      Just as he reached the edge of the Forest, Delvun's fine-tuned sense of smell picked up the faint scent of animal fur nearby. He instinctively stoped in his tracks and cautiously turned, bending slightly to peer into the darkness; his strong but nimble hands clasped around the hilt of his longsword, prepared to draw steel at even the hint of enemy agression. His infravision showed the bright red and dull orange heat signature given off by a couple of small birds and a curious owl, but nothing more.

      "Perhaps it is just the carcass of some poor dead animal " Delvun thought to himself, trying to make sense of what it was he smelled. As he turned around to continue his journey, however, he clearly heard the snapping of twigs underfoot; giving the dextrous young Elf cause to turn around yet again. Before him growled the gaping jaws of a huge and very hungry looking wolf! Its fur was mangled and mangy; black as the night sky and missing in spots. Its razor sharp teeth and claws were yellowed and stained with the blood of its many past vanquished victims.

      Delvun locked onto the beast's steely green eyes, hoping to distract it long enough to unsheath his longsword. However, the experienced hunter was too cunning to succumb to such trickery. Before Dlevun could even remove his longsword halfway from its protective animal hide sheath, the determined beast lunged at him like a tightly wound spring just released; its claws poised to pin him down and its fangs ready to tear at his vulnerable throat.

      At this moment, Delvun's swift reflexes (and good luck) saved him as they had so many times in the past. He managed to duck seconds before the wolf-beast was able to land its first attack. The wolf-beast, however, was not so fortunate. It landed head first into a nearby bush with very nasty looking thorns. It would take a couple of minutes of struggling at least before the beast would be freed from its natural trappings.

      Learning long ago from experience that it was nearly always better to defend rather than attack when closely confronted by a four-legged enemy, Delvun finished unsheathing his Elven blade and braced himself for the next round of combat.The rain he had been expecting came now, sudden and hard. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder upon contact with the first few drops of the forceful, punishing rain. He crained his stiffened neck to assess the damage caused by his opponent's massive claws. It was bad.

      The putrid stench of filthy wet fur lured Delvun away from his fixation on his fresh, gaping wound. Again he came face to face with the snarling beast who now was driven by both hunger and intense, uncontrolled rage .The cursed creature didn't even seem to acknowledge the dozens of thick thorns still embeded deep into the fleshy parts of its patchwork fur. It was as if it didn't feel them piercing its nerve endings.

      The beast's intense rage shown in its cold green eyes, warning Delvun that he had but one good chance to finish this fight before he himself was finished; this was that chance. As the crazed beast lunged itself upon him for a second time, Delvun firmly gripped the hilt of his longsword with both anxious hands and tensed every Goddess given muscle in his arms; prepared to deliver a devasting blow.

      When he saw his moment to strike, Delvun swung with all his might and, with a satisfying CRUNCH!, the death delivering blade made contact with the thick neck of the wolf-beast...and continued clear through to the other side!

      Delvun was in awe of his lucky critical hit and watched as his now vanquished enemy's detached head flew off its powerful shoulders and landed twenty feet or so into a waiting marsh. As the foul head slowly sunk into oblivion, Delvun wished he had the time to bring the lifeless carcass laying before his feet back to his village and show everyone what he had slain; what a story that would be to tell! But, if he did not move ahead and accomplish the pressing mission at hand, there may soon not be a village to return to.

      Thankfully, the vicious downpour of rain was brief at least and Delvun found a good size boulder to rest against while attending to his nasty shoulder wound. He opened the rabbit skin pouch full of healing supplies which Balrun had provided for him and withdrew a small jar of healing salve, a long piece of soft silk cloth and a piece of wild boar hide. He then gingerly rubbed a generous portion of the healing salve over the gaping wound; for a minute it burned intensely and caused him to wince, but then it cooled and eased the throbbing, searing pain. Next, Delvun wraped the soft cloth (treated with some sort of anti-infection substance) tightly around his shoulder several times. Finally, he did the same with the piece of wild boar hide, wrapping around only once though, to help repel moisture as well as to cushion against any future attacks by enemies who might wish to take advantage of his vulnerable wound. With that done, Delvun looked up at the forboding city ahead; his future lying just a short distance away.
Chapter 6 - The City

      As he approached the outskirts of the city, Delvun marvelled at the technologically aesthetic, many-faceted metropolis that was Copperville. The many and varied buildings, the enormously intricate power-generating apparatus and the massive silos and soaring smokestacks of the copper ore refinery filled his heart with a remarkably overwhelming sense of awe and wonderment he had never before experienced in his sheltered life. Though it was generally felt by the Kindred Elves of Benlith Forest that the mere existence of Copperville was an affront to their fervent and benevolent beliefs of constant harmony with nature, Delvun could not help but feel that the mysterious city was beckoning him to enter and be in harmony with it. He promptly pushed the wicked thought out of his mind, but the feeling stubbornly stayed deep within his heart.
      Delvun's attention was now on the two very big and very ugly neanderthalic creatures standing at either side of a complicated-looking contraption with many gears, pulleys and wires of various shapes and sizessurrounding a large compressor of some sort. In the center of the makeshift mechanical mess stood an archway just wide enough for an average sized human to pass through. If one of the huge creatures standing beside it wanted to enter, he would have to do so sideways. Based on what Balrun told him, Delvun deduced that the two creatures must be Half-Ogres and that the contraption between them must be the aura-detecting portal.

      As he drew nearer, Delvun could see that the two Half-Ogres each possessed long weapons crafted of wood and metal which Delvun correctly guessed to be rifled firearms. He then correctly guessed that two Half-Ogres wielding them to be city guards. Though he was still damp and dirty from walking and fighting in the rain and mud, Delvun made himself as presentable as possible and casually strolled up to one of the Half-Ogre guards. "Excuse me good sir," he said politely.

      "What you want?" The Half-Ogre huffed as he eyed the stranger suspiciously and shifted his rifle threateningly in his gargantuan hands. Of course, he didn't need the rifle; his breath alone could kill a man. "Thank Kyrathere is a strong breeze right now," Delvun thought to himself quite seriously.

      "I was just wondering if you happen to know where in Copperville I might find a building called the Thundersmith Copper Exchange?"

      "Huh?" was the confused Half-Ogre's only reply.

      Delvun remembered what Balrun had said about most Half-Ogres being rather limited in intelligence and, therefore, speech capabilities. He decided to try simplifying his own speech into single syllables. "Where is cop-per shop?"

      "First go through por-tal, then ask bar-tend-er in bar. He know all."

      "Where is bar?"

      Delvun could see that the Half-Ogre was starting to get annoyed as he let out a guttural sigh. This time the smell of his putrid breath actually caused Delvun's knees to buckle slightly. "Bar is three blocks down on main street! GO THROUGH POR-TAL NOW!"

      Rather than ask the lumbering, agitated Half-Ogre where he could purchase some new clothing and risk facing the business end of the rifle he held so confidently, Delvun decided it would be best to simply move on and find out for himself. Just as he turned to enter the portal, a rude little Halfling sped past him in an obvious hurry; his large hairy feet slapping down hard on the muddy ground. As the Halfling dashed through the portal, sparks shot out violently at Delvun, causing him to jump back in surprise.

      Then, suddenly, the gears and pulleys surrounding the portal ground to a halt! The Half-Ogre guard that Delvun was vaguely conversing with stomped grudgingly over to the portal's compressor and gave it a powerful kick. Delvun expected the fragile thing to fall apart with after such a blow, but instead it started it's rhythmic pumping again. Within seconds, the gears and pulleys resumed their clockwork methodical movement as well. The Half-Ogre shot Delvun a warning look. "Go through por-tal SLOW!"

      Delvun, after some uneasy hesitation, slowly walked through the portal with his eyes tightly closed and his fists tightly clenched; praying to Kyra that he didn't catch fire...or worse!

      After checking to make sure all of him was intact, Delvun headed down the main street of Copperville. He had to travel only one block to find a humble little shop with a sign that read 'HERMAN'S FINE HABERDASHERIES'. Luckily for Delvun their was a wooden plaque with a picture of a lady and a gentleman dressed in formal attire under the shop's sign since he had never heard of such a ridiculous term for clothing. Being in dire need of clean, dry clothes, Delvun immediately took advantage of the shop's close proximity. No sooner was he through the creaking door than a quick but very old Gnome came running up to him with a broad, welcoming smile on his wrinkled face.

      "Good eve to ya sir! Can I interest ya in a fine top hat? I just got a shipment of 'em in earlier today."

      "No, thank you. I am actually in need of a set of simple but comfortable clothes." Delvun gave the wiry old Gnome a trusting smile. "I shall leave it in your capable hands good sir."

      The Gnome examined Delvun's dirty and damp attire while also figuring his size. "Yes, o'course. I believe I've just the thing for ya. Wait here a moment." With that, he scampered off through a door at the back of the small shop.

      While he was waiting patiently for his attendant to return, Delvun decided to peruse the little shop's curious wares. Throughout the showroom were displayed all manner of dress and adornment. Along the length of the left wall, set aside from the fanciful formal clothing which filled most of the shop's limited space, was a tall but narrow glass display case with a bold sign that read 'Fine Armour and Accessories for Your Protection'. The majority of contents encased within consisted of heavy, awkward looking metal armor in various styles and lengths. Delvun studied each one with great interest and puzzlement.

      "How can something which would clearly make enough noise to attract a potential enemies to its wearer's location and be so heavy and bulky as to significantly hinder movement be considered protection? Also, why would someone go through the trouble of carefully crafting such intricate pieces of essentially useless metal?" The questions wafted around in his mind with no real answers. "You're a stranger in a strange land. In time you will come to learn why things are as they are." he reasoned.

      Delvun continued examining the unfamiliar items proudly displayed behind the glass until, finally, he came across something VERY familiar to him. Laying on the top shelf at the far end of the display case as if not wanting to be noticed were a well worn pair of Elven-crafted wild boar hide bracers. Having now piqued his curiosity, Delvun inspected the unique bracers closer and was taken aback to discover that symbols used only by his tribe for magickal blessings were stitched into each one! The symbols translated loosely into 'KYRA GUIDE AND PROTECT YOU ON YOUR QUEST'. Delvun wondered how it was possible that these sacred bracers ended up here since none of his Kindred has ever set foot outside Belith Forest. Something inside told him he had to possess them and discover their reason for being.

      The Gnome came back, not noticing Delvun's interest in the bracers at first. He was busy picking lint off of the shirt and pants he had folded neatly in his stubby arms. "I have yer clothes here. I think you'll like 'em. If ya want, their be a hotel just around the corner where ya can wash up 'n change." Having removed all the lint he could find on the clothes, the Gnome looked up at Delvun. "Oh! I see ya have yer self a keen eye fer quality merchandise. That there be a special item handed down from generation to generation. It's held up many a decade under countless brawls and helped win the day every time."

      "How did you come to possess such a unique item?" Delvun inquired with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

      "Oh...I'll tell ya, it be a desperate sort of feller who done sold me that there peculiar item. Said he used to be a miner 'n found 'em in an abandoned section o' the copper mine just outside o' town he did. Also said he was laid off on the count o' he done caught a nasty spell 'o pneumonia. I felt kinda sorry for the poor gent so I bought 'em off him at a fair price I should think. Look mister, ya seems to me to be a decent sorta feller, so I'll tells ya the God's honest truth. Those things have been sittin' on that shelf for 'round about six years now 'n nary a soul's shown a lick 'o interest in 'em. If ya be willin' to take 'em off me hands fer say...fifty coins, then I'd be willin' to let ya use me sleepin' quarters in the back to clean up 'n change, free 'o charge. What do ya say?"

      Delvun didn't have to consider the offer for very long. "OK, you have yourself a deal friend." He extended his hand and the now quite pleased Gnome balanced the clothes in one stocky arm while accepting Delvun's hand in a shake, thus sealing the deal.
Chapter 7 - The Saloon

      Now appropriately clad in the garb befitting the average city dweller, Delvun felt confident he would blend in with the majority of Copperville's many citizens. Of course, being an Elf in a city largely distrustful of Elves (whether they made use of the magick arts or not), his confidence was rather misplaced. The many suspicious stares and accusing whispers from passers-by told him that he was perhaps not the most welcome visitor to this great Mecca. "It is the nature of humans in particular to be suspicious and sometimes fearful of that which they do not fully understand," Delvun remembered Chief Elder Balrun warning him. "Be tolerant of others' reaction upon sight of you. In time they will come to see the true essence of you and accept you as one of their own." Delvun never really needed acceptance to survive, but it did make life a little more enjoyable.
      Delvun took Balrun's words of wisdom to heart as he entered the swinging double doors of the Copper Coin Saloon. The old structure was actually well kept, but the two slow rotating ceiling fans did little to dissipate the thick cloud of tobacco smoke which choked the stale air throughout. Delvun allowed himself a slight cough, but he really had no need to fear being noticed. Every simple but solid wooden table and chair was occupied by miners who were too tired and too busy drowning their aches and pains from a hard day of meeting production quotas to give a rat's arse about some damn Elf invading their sanctuary.

      Just to his left, Delvun watched in awe as a player piano, a device he had never laid eyes upon before, spat out a catchy tune he had never heard before. "What sort of magick is this?" he asked himself in astonishment as the tune of 'HELLO MY BABY...HELLO MY HONEY...HELLO MY RAGTIME GAL...' bellowed forth from the pounding keys. To his far right, Delvun could hear a loud bell ring back and forth sharply three times. It was clearly audible even over the clamorous chattering and even louder player piano. "Last call everybody! Closing in ten minutes!" came immediately after the ringing of the bell and from the same direction. As Delvun's eyes adjusted to the hazy atmosphere, he could make out the bartender. He zig-zagged around the maze of tables and chairs to get to him.

      Even the bar itself was crowded, every hard wood stool occupied by thirsty and tired patrons. Delvun leaned into the narrow space between two of the slovenly seated patrons who were protectively hovering over their precious libations and motioned towards the bartender who was bust cleaning some glasses in preparation for closing. Before he could make eye contact, however, Delvun felt a rough hard SLAP! on his injured right shoulder; causing the long forgotten pain to resurface briefly. He nearly lost his balance from the sheer force of the blow. "What the..." he began, trailing off as he twirled around in anger to face a huge, ugly beast of a man. Though Delvun had never before seen a wild boar THIS ugly, he guessed it to be a Half-Orc based on Balrun's description. The rude Half-Orc smelled strongly of alcohol , but showed no visible signs of intoxication.

      "I don't want your kind in here! Why don't you just go back to your precious little Forest and frolic with the other dandy creatures," the belligerent Half-Orc smirked, emphasizing the last part with a powerful push that sent Delvun stumbling several feet back towards the saloon entrance. Delvun was surprised and somewhat impressed by the force of the push, being rather strong himself and never before confronting someone who wasn't an Elf.

      Delvun slowly reached down to the hilt of his longsword, but before he could even wrap his anxious fingers around it, the surprisingly dexterous Half-Orc deftly drew a rusty (but nonetheless deadly) flintlock pistol from inside his dingy brown overcoat and aimed it squarely at Delvun's temple in one fluid motion. A slight smile formed on the Half-Orc's weathered and coarse face as carefully cocked back the badly corroded hammer. This action was interrupted by the bartender, however, as he reached under the counter and withdrew a much deadlier weapon; a double-barreled shotgun!

      "If I have to tell you one more time to stop drawing that damn pistol in MY saloon, I'll see to it that you're buried with it!" the highly agitated bartender threatened as he aimed both barrels at the Half-Orc's forehead. "Now, put the damn thing away, sit down and finish your drink."

      The Half-Orc flashed the bartender a nervous look. After assessing the hopeless situation, he gave Delvun a toothy snarl as he reluctantly uncocked the rusted pistol and tucked it back into its hiding place. He then quietly went back to his table and slumped into a chair, feeling quite unsatisfied. He picked up a nearby glass and, in one angry gulp, finished the lucent brown liquid that remained. It seemed to calm his ruffled state, though he still eyed the unwelcome stranger with disdain as the bartender returned his menacing weapon to its proper hiding place under the bar.

      Delvun breathed a slight sigh of relief while thinking how useful it would be to have a firearm at hand himself. Perhaps if this mission were a success, Chief Elder Balrun would see past the stubborn laws of the village and allow him to possess such technology. For now, though, Delvun would have to make do with the archaic weapons he trained most of his young life to use with great skill. He approached the bartender once again as the saloon patrons went back to talking and drinking, disappointed by the anti-climactic stand off. The bartender casually went back to washing glasses as if nothing happened.

      "Thank you for saving my life good sir!" Delvun yelled over the noisy ambience, trying to keep the busy bartender's attention and determined more than ever to get the answer he just risked his life for.

      The bartender threw the towel he was using to dry the glasses across his right shoulder and propped himself sidewise against the bar, folding his arms across his chest in defiance of Delvun. "Look stranger, I don't know who you are or why you came all this way and I really don't care. I did you a favor by saving your life. Now do me a favor and leave before you cause any more trouble in my saloon."

      "I will, I promise. But first I just need to know where I can find the Thundersmith Copper Exchange...please?"

      The bartender fumed. "I asked you once nicely! Now I'm TELLING you..."

      "I'll tell you how to get there if it will get you the hell out of here." Delvun turned to face the Half-Orc who was now much calmer since the uneventful altercation. Delvun listened dubiously as the Half-Orc spouted directions. He didn't entirely trust the words of the drunken, bigoted Half-Orc, but at the moment it was his only lead and time was of the essence.
Chapter 8 - The Trap

      The cobble-stone streets were getting much darker and quieter now; more so than those Delvun had travelled along to get to this point. The eerie lack of activity and ambient lighting was cause for the young anxious Elf to be put on edge. In fact, the otherwise calm and collected Delvun actually jumped at the sudden sound of two fiercely competitive alley cats fighting to determine which one was most worthy of the small scrap of food lying invitingly between them. Amidst the ensuing struggle, the clumsy duo managed to knock over a large metal trash can. The can smacked against the stony ground with a thunderous CRASH! as they nearly killed each other for the paltry prize.

      "Find your center. This is no time to be taking leave of your senses," Delvun told himself. He took in a deep breath of the decidedly foul night air and then slowly let it out. He repeated this cycle several times, waiting patiently for his rapid heart rate to return to its accustomed rhythmic pace.

      Soon Delvun came upon the building he was directed to by the Half-Orc in the Saloon. He carefully inspected the drab uninviting structure, but could see no signs indicating that this uninspired edifice was a Copper Exchange nor that it was the property of Mr. Thundersmith. All that could be seen was a simple metallic plate sign badly oxidized and tarnished with age which read simply 'ENTRANCE IN REAR'.

      Being the next logical step, Delvun turned around the corner and headed down the dark, quiet alley towards the back entrance of the building. He reached the halfway point of his destination when he heard the distinct sound of shuffling feet far behind him. He quickly whipped around to see two Half-Ogres lumbering slowly and steadily towards him from the alley's entranceway; each wielding huge wicked looking, but crudely fashioned, spiked clubs. An evil grin formed on their ugly toothless faces in unison when they saw that they had been noticed.

      "You come to wrong part of town. Now we take what you have," the bigger of the two Half-Ogres warned as he stretched out his powerful right arm and pointed a threatening fist at Delvun. Delvun's eyes were suddenly transfixed upon the big, ornamental ring the Half-Ogre was wearing on his middle finger. A slight blue glow emanated from its center oblong jewel.

      As he glared wide-eyed at the irresistible glow, a strange, new feeling came over Delvun; that of genuine terror. He was so terrified, he actually forgot to draw his longsword in retaliation. This was the one thing he swore he would never fail to do in the presence of an enemy. Delvun turned and ran towards the back door which would allow him to sheltered protection within. After what to him felt like an eternity, he reached the door and frantically twisted the securely-fastened bulbous doorknob...nothing. He repeated this action several more times while the confident Half-Ogres drew ever closer...still nothing. The door to Delvun's only means of safety was locked!

      Now frozen in fear, his back pressed firmly against the impenetrable door, Delvun suddenly saw two Half-Orcs emerge from behind two large trash cans which were lined up against the alley wall opposite Delvun. "A trap!" the stunned Delvun now realized as one of the Half-Orc attackers lunged at him followed closely by the other, both with monstrous axes in their leathery hands.

      The razor sharp axe came down towards Delvun's perspiring forehead, poised to make bloody contact with its exposed flesh and bone target. Delvun's only desperate, confused attempt at protection was to thrust both of his forearms arms in front of his face and cover his forehead with the old, worn bracers he wore in hopes that (futile though it clearly seemed) the death-dealing blow would be absorbed.

      A split second before the blade could make contact, a subtle golden glow emanated from the blessed bracers. To Delvun's utter disbelief, the offensive blow was not absorbed, but rather deflected! It was as if they had detected the danger and created a small invisible barrier. The Half-Orc's axe arm bounced back with enough force to cause his entire body to swivel around and crash into the Half-Orc still behind him. They both preceded to stumble uncontrollably backwards into the trash cans they were hiding behind a moment ago.

      Witnessing this bizarre turn of events, the two Half-Ogres looked first puzzled, then quite angry as they growled and picked up their casual pace. Before they could even get a few steps closer, Delvun heard a window quickly open above. He looked up to see a mysterious figure peering out the now opened window. It was too dark to make out the cloaked figure clearly, even with Delvun's keen night vision. The suspicious silhouette aimed some kind of small weapon in front of the fast approaching Half-Ogres and fired what looked like three large pellets in rapid succession. Just as quickly, three separate clouds of nauseous-looking green vapor appeared almost in unison before the surprised Half-Ogres. Coughing and gagging could be heard from within the heavy gaseous clouds seconds before two solid THUDs as both Half-Ogres collapsed face first onto the hard cobble stone ground.

      Delvun finally regained his composure, but the green gaseous vapor was rolling dangerously close to him and the two Half-Orcs were now starting to regain their footing. Delvun's only chance to at least temporarily evade this impeding death trap was to break down the securely looked door. "At least it's wooden," he assured himself. "There IS a chance." Turning so that his left shoulder faced the obstacle before him (he dared not use his injured right shoulder), Delvun took two broad steps away from the door. Then, with all the speed he could muster, he rammed the stubbornly sturdy door, desperately putting his full strength behind the blow. BANG!...nothing! Not a budge!

      The situation had now surpassed the realm of dire and was swiftly approaching hopelessness. The noxious cloud was now looming just feet from Delvun and the Half-Orcs were readying their next angry charge, this time separately. Delvun had but one last try before all was lost. Again he took two broad steps away from the door and charged at it full force. In mid-stream, the door swung wide open and a surprised Delvun staggered into the sheltered sanctuary, trying in vain to stop himself. As the door was quickly shut and locked behind him, he stumbled and fell head first into a large pile of empty crates and cardboard boxes stacked high in the opposite corner of the spacious, apparently abandoned, building.

      Delvun was visibly shaken and felt some pain, but the boxes seemed to cushion him from any serious injury. As he laid there, trying to once again regain control of his rapid breathing, he heard coughing and gagging just outside the door. The two Half-Orcs had given up on the notion of killing Delvun and were now frantically trying to seek shelter before succumbing to the effects of the poisonous cloud they were now engulfed in. One was shaking, pulling and twisting the doorknob in vein while the other was fiercely hacking away at the solid door with his axe, unable to penetrate the thick wood. In seconds they both suffered the same fate as the Half-Ogres, falling to the cold, hard ground with a THUD. Feeling that the immediate threat was now over, Delvun shifted his attention away from the door and looked around to find the mysterious stranger who just saved his life. After a moment, his eyes locked on to the figure approaching him. He gingerly rubbed his aching head as his vision began to blur. Delvun did not know whether it was the poisonous vapors he accidentally breathed or the impact of falling into the crates, but his vision began to blur before he could see the face of his unknown, cloaked savior. Just as the mysterious figure began pulling back the hood of the cloak, unconsciousness fell over Delvun as he gave in to the inevitable.

Chapter 9 - The Follower

      "Hey, wake up Jack 'O." The voice had a high pitch and was somewhat soft, but was decidedly male. Delvun's senses were slowly coming back to him and seemingly one at a time. "ACK! What is thar *cough* aweful smell?", He muttered, not realizing he asked it out loud.

      "It's a little concotion I came up with in the unfortunate event my sleeper shots backfire. Of course, in your case, you happened to inhale a substantial portion. My sleeper shots can be rather potent, especially to Elves." Delvun blinked hard several times as he desperately tried to clear his blurred vision and focus on the diminuative cloaked figure standing before him and waving a small sniff tin filled with a greyish powder inches from Delvun's sensitive nose. His vision was so badly blurred, he swated the empty air several times before making contact with the offensive smelling powder. After about a minute, Delvun's sight finally recovered enough for him to clearly make out the young, rosey-cheeked Halfling male standing over him. He rubbed his burning, dry eyes followed by his scratchy and equally burning throat. He felt as if every drop of moisture was sapped from his body.

      "Ahhh! Finally coming around then, are we? Excellent!", the relieved Halfling acknowledged as he deftly tucked the precious sniff tin under his loose-fitting robe.

      "Who are you?", Delvun inquired, more confused and disoriented then curious.

      "Oh yes. Forgive me good sir. I am Calvin Quicktoe at your service, Jack 'O", the no longer mysterious figure answered with an elaborate bow at the waiste and roll of the arm.

      Delvun peered suspisciously at his odd savior. "First of all, my name is Delvun, NOT this absured 'Jack 'O' you insist on calling me. Secondly, it seems that YOU are in the business of serving yourself since you appear to have relieved me of my bracers!"

      A slight smile formed on Calvin's small face, impressed with Delvun's quick wit and even quicker senses. He could see that this was no ordinary everyday lost outsider. There was clearly something different...perhaps even special about this one. Something that told Calvin he should stick with this stranger and learn more about him. "I was just...curious how these handsome items worked is all", Calvin admited, though it was only a half-truth. Delvun wondered briefly what else the adept little thief could be concealing under his robe as Calvin reluctantly withdrew the bracers which had fascinated him so. "Well then, what is it you discovered about them Calvin?"

      Calvin paused a moment, contemplating the question. "Well...I know they're magickal."

      Delvun just stared as if to say "And?".

      "Hey, I said I was curious about them. I didn't say I actually KNEW anything about them."

      Delvun rolled his eyes in frustration. "And I suppose you are were just 'curious' about my money pouch as well."

      "Safe keeping?" was Calvin's only response as he handed over Delvun's money pouch, his small round face blushing slightly.

      Delvun started towards the warehouse door without uttering another word and glad to be rid of the sneaky little thief. Before he could turn the knob allowing access to freedom, Calvin interrupted casually. "So, where ya headin' anyway, Jack 'O?" A modest, but easily felt chill ran up Delvun's spine at hearing the utterance of that insufferable name spoken by an equally insufferable Halfling thief. He turned slowly and with great reluctance to face Calvin. "I am going to try and find out where the Thundersmith Copper Exchange is. Now if you don't mind...".

      "Take me with you. You need my help", Calvin insisted.

      Delvun simply could not believe the audacity of this lowly creature. "I do not need the help of a sticky-fingered thief!"

      Calvin played his next card. "Hey! I saved your life. You owe me!"

      "And I spared yours. Don't test me, thief!", Delvun quickly countered. His growing aggitation was now quite apparent as he turned back around and thrust open the door.

      Calvin gulped hard upon recieving Delvun's angry voice, but was not yet ready to give up as he played his trump card. "I know the place you're looking for", he called out in desperation. "I can take you there and get you inside."

      Delvun turned around yet again and stormed towards Calvin. The anxious Halfling took a precautionary defensive stance, not quite sure what Delvun's next move would be. He flinched uncontrolably somewhat as Delvun reached out and grabbed his right arm, draging him towards the door. Luckily, Calvin's expert nimbleness kept him from stumbling along the way.

      When they both got past the doorway and past the asalients still lying unconscious in the alley, Delvun finally let go of Calvin and thrust his tired and annoyed-looking face to within inches of Calvin's. "You better leed me in the right direction or you'll be tasting my steal in short order! Do we understand each other?"

      Calvin tried in vein to cover his fear with a weak smile. "Sure thing, Jack 'O. No worries."