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“I taught I taw a Puddy-tat!” the Drow had shouted from the hallway. His voice was slurred with drink and the words were difficult to understand even for his fellows inside the room who understood the Underdark language.

“No way, dude!” came the surly reply from within.

“I did! I did tee a Puddy-tat!” the Drow protested, “She’s right over there---- Ack!” Suddenly an arrow seemed to sprout for the Drow’s throat, and he quickly sank to the floor, making a gurgling, sticky mess.

“Kowalski! They got Kowalski! Damn you bastards!” The three other Drow and the two brutish Orcs rose from their seats and stumbled toward the hallway, wine bottles scattering everywhere. But they were stopped in their tracks by a shout from the back of the room.

“Fools!” the Shadow Master raged, storming into the room, “Did you think I would not find out?”

“Oh, look!” one of the Drow sneered, his fallen companion and the puddy-tat quickly forgotten, “it’s the ‘Shadow Master’! Oh, great ‘Master’ whatever do you mean? Surely we have been the most faithful of servants?” The sarcastic Drow laughed.

“Do not mock me, stupid Cleric!” the Shadow Master screamed, “No servant of Lolth would DARE to subvert Moander’s Avatar!”

“Oh, look, fellows! He thinks we are Clerics of Lolth! Oh! That’s so funny, I think my sides are going to split!”

“Indeed,” another Drow said to the fuming Shadow Master, “we are not the stupid ones. Only females can truly know the blessings of the Spider Queen.” The Drow ‘cleric’ began removing his armor, revealing mage robes underneath. “Come, my fellows! These disguises have served us well. Let us show our ‘ally’ our true vocations.”

The Shadow Master fumed as the Drow revealed themselves to be mages. The orcs cracked their knuckles and laughed menacingly.

“Moander is dead,” one of the Drow snickered with bravery bourn of too much mushroom wine, “Killed by a mortal human, no less! You ridiculous anachronism! Lolth is the true Dread Lord!”

“Then where are your priestesses?”

“Oh, they’re around… waiting…” Suddenly the mage loosed a lightning bolt that lashed out at the Shadow Master. But the bolt only rebounded off an invisible shield and bounced around the room until finally incinerating one of the orcs.

The Shadow Master looked at the smoldering remains of the orc’s body and shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. We can’t waste good meat like that!” With a gesture, black thorny vines rose up and trapped the remaining assailants, pinning their arms helplessly to their sides. “Come, the Avatar of Moander” he said pointedly but pleasantly, “hungers. Perhaps we can talk about the whereabouts of your priestesses on the way to dinner?” With another gesture, the black vines lifted the struggling victims off the floor and began shuffling behind the Shadow Master who disappeared out the back door.

After a moment, Aqua-Chan entered the room and looked around bewildered. “Well, that was weird…”

Dragon Wench observed her comrades and noted that the general air of confusion in the area had somewhat abated....or at the very least, Yshania appeared to have regained her usual, lucid demeanor. D)

With some effort she collected her wits and considered her remaining spells, while directing Axis to again attack the mouthers with jets of flame. After a few moments a slew of magic missiles burst from her fingertips and buried themselves into the fleshy entities that still emitted hideous shrieks at the assembled party. One of the mouthers stopped its wailing and gurgled in pain. However, it was not yet defeated, and a tentacle snaked towards Yshania's fiery form. With a blood-curdling scream of fury the druid seized the rope-like extension and began tearing it apart, piece by sizzling piece (BBQ sauce anyone? ).

Undaunted by the beast's considerable rage, Yshania proceded to grasp each tentacle....and soon the cavern was littered with smoking chunks of mouther.... Dragon Wench, seeing the creature's vulnerablity to fire moved closer, knowing how damaging her cloak could be in such situations.... Carefully, she cast Agannazar's scorcher at the second mouther, aiming directly at its yawning maw; the beast squealed and turned its attention to the puny human who had caused it such agony. It lurched towards Dragon Wench who stood unmoving...waiting for it to come into contact with her cloak....... A hiss of flame erupted as the mouther came near, and in stunned surprise the creature stopped short. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Dragon Wench quickly unsheathed her sword and plunged it deep into the mouther's pulsing eye.... a screech echoed through the cavern...followed by something of a still calm....until the remaining mouther realised that its companion had met with a painful end....

Anger erupted from the mutilated monster and it moved towards the fire elemental.... Yshania, a somewhat maniacal grin flickering over her "face" repeatedly punched her fists into the mouther's gaping oriface. Finally.... a smoldering puddle of flesh at the druid's feet was all that remained......

Dragon Wench cast her gaze about the cavern and motioned to her friends, hoping they would be able to determine a strategy for what would soon follow...... A shiver ran down her spine as she reflected on the battle awaiting them......

Slowly, Mysteria blinked, then shook her head only to blink again and look incredulously at Thantor. "You ...?", she began, "You are no tree?", surprise lingered in her voice. "No", he shook his head, "the mouther confused your mind, everything you think to have seen was just a figment of your imagination."

"Oh", her mouth formed a perfect circle as she gaped at him, her barkskin slowly wearing off. Gently, he made her sit on the floor, as if she were hurt, which didn't make sense because she felt perfectly allr... The pain hit her hard as her mind finally got around to registering all the screaming nerve ends that fired like mad at her brain. Overloading, it decided to shut down, making it easier for Thantor to look after her burnt hands and the numerous perforations the mouthers tentacles had left behind on her arms.

It didn't take long for the three men to regroup with the rest of the Dark Flames. they had apparently been slowed down by a group of mouthers. Casting glances towards each other, the three men rejoined the group.

"Seems you had a bit of fun while we were gone." Bloodstalker quiped, a bit of a grin on his face. Gwally just smirked back. Bloodstalker tilted his head towards the corpse of one of the mouthers, and gave it a light kick, making sure it was quite dead.

Aegis went over to where Mysteria and Gwally were standing. As he got closer, he notcied the lacerations on Mysteria's arm. "Serious?"

"Nothing we can't repair." said Gwally calmly as he worked. Aegis knelt down beside him, and lifted one of Mysteria's arms up slightly, examining it.

"Doesn't seem like anything to serious." Aegis said after a few moments of looking at the marks. He then turned to the Druid. "How about the others? Or have we been set back, somewhat?" gwally merely shurgged.

AC blinked blankly, somewhat stunned... She had been expectating a fight, but, apperently the Abomination and it's followers had other plans.

"I've seen many strange things in my time, but that was the cat's meow."

She pondered on what in eyes of the mistress of cats just happened, and then began thinking that maybe she had consumed just a little too much cat nip when remembering how the Drow warriors were drug out of the room by those black tendril thingies.

She scratched her right ear and pushed her hood down, examining the room curiously. Flasks of ale and weapons littered the floor and the two tables, but was the most attracting to her icy blue eyes was the rather large chest in the corner of the room. Being a thief, she had to check it out.

The lock posed little problems to her before she threw open the lid of the wooden box and started to evaluate the contents. Dissapointed, she noted that there were few items of use - regular long swords and armors with no magical properties, five or six gold coins and a single black key on top of it all. Automatically, she picked up the key and checked it over. Though she hadn't seen any doors with locks she couldn't pick on her own, AC tucked the key into one of the pockets in her pack and moved on.

Then, rattling the wooden beams that kept the cavern supported, an ungodly horrific noise thundered through the rocks. Screams, in fact. The traitor Drow, AC figured.

"Well, better get on moving then..." the woman said to herself, trying to quell the shakey tone in her voice. For a split second, all was completely silent... But then another blood wretching scream followed, and a patch of dirt fell from the ceiling above Aqua-chan. "OK, Gonnagonow, bye!" She dashed out of the empty room to return to the Dark Flames.

As the group slowly filtered into the cavern Dragon Wench realised that something fundamental about their location had been subconsciously bothering her.

The home of her childhood and youth had been arid and mountainous. As a consequence of frequent dry spells all in her village were instinctively attuned to the sound of running water....even at the most subliminal level.

It was this that had, in part, disturbed her...the faint tinkle of something cherished and natural in so unholy a place. Perplexed, she focused and tried to pinpoint its source. Quietly, Dragon Wench slipped away from the party, allowing her hearing to guide her steps.

Soon, after following yet another snaking passageway, she found the object of her search. Sloping walls curved around a small, evidently natural pool.....rocks lay tumbled about its rim and nearby the distinct burble of an underground spring echoed gently against cool stone..... A niche in the wall, containing utilitarian ladles, made her glance warily around...but the area was quite obviously deserted. Crouching by the pool, Dragon Wench sniffed, and then dipped a finger into the water. It was fresh and untainted; she smiled and unhooked the leather flask from her belt, and then stood back.

On a sudden impulse, she flicked a pebble into the pool........concentric circles rippled outwards in ever-increasing patterns......whorls upon whorls making their ephemeral imprint upon a limpid surface. Then finally, all was still....no trace remained, as though nothing had shattered the apparent calm.... She was reminded, in that moment, of the snowy landscape she was now able to access....its peaceful neutrality. Then, unbidden, thoughts of Jerren crowded into her consciousness and distantly she wondered if he continued to exist within that unearthly dimension. Jumbled and still unanswered questions clamoured at the edges of her awareness. Abruptly, she clenched her fist, and restrained herself from punching it into the wall....knowing that she would only meet unyielding rock...and likely injure herself at a time when she needed her sword arm more than ever..... Something inaudible escaped her breath and went unheard...and unanswered.....

"I have to get out of this foetid pit before I go completely insane," she muttered darkly to herself......

Sighing, an unreadable expression in her eyes, she made her way back to the others, planning to inform them of her find.

BS looked over the group, relieved that no one seemed to be seriously injured. Gwally was tending Mysterias wounds. He let his eyes settle on them for a moment, something tugging at the back of his mind, then passing after an instant. He sighed inwardly, it seemed that things were always a little out of his reach lately, thinking back to his fight with the vampire. His moments hesitation had almost cost him dearly there. He couldn't afford another incident like that, after this was over, he would have to sort through all that had happened.

He walked over towards where Than was standing, and hesitated near the door where the mouthers had appeared. Something was different, strange somehow. Looking around, he noticed for the first time that AC was nowhere to be seen, and taking a second glance, DW seemed to have dissappeared for the moment. HE thought for a moment that this was what he had esnsed, and was about to speak to Than about his confusion, when it hit him suddenly.

The pulsations in the tunnel were louder, much clearer.He had almost not noticed it, he had been feeling the echoes of the Abominations power constantly since he had entered these tunnels, the beating magical pulse had been uncomfortable at first, but he had since grown used to it to the point that it was barely noticable. But now, it was different, much more pronounced. A momnetary wave of nausea gripped him as the pulse filled the air around him, threatened to force his mind to detach from his surroundings in a defensive reaction. After a moment, he regained control, and stood staring into the darkness.

"It's getting stronger" he stated, drawing a quizicall glance from Than , who was close enough to hear.

"What's getting stronger? " Than asked, but BS was too lost in thought to hear.

Than moved closer and put a hand on his arm, shaking him gently to break his concentration. Bs moved to settle his eyes on him, eyes that looked at him, but seemed to be focused far away, focused with a brought a steel glint to them.

"what is it? "Than asked again

" The abomination" BS answered absently, trying to find a way to express what he felt in an understandable way. " I can..feel it" he finished with a helpless shrug.

He turned his eyes back to the darkness for a long momnet, feeling the growth of energy, fighting back the fury that was threatening to consume him, trying to block out dark magics that were beating against his mind .

"Doesn't seem like anything to serious." were the first words she heard when she came to again. Cautiously, she stood up, relieved that the pain was gone. A quick look at her hands and arms told her that Than and Gwally had done a good job, tender skin covered her hand where there had only been blisters before and nothing remained of the perforations on her arms. "Thank you", she muttered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. "I always seem to only bring you further trouble ...", she sighed. "I'm really sorry for what I did ...". Thantor interrupted her, "It's allright, it could have happened to any of us." She shook her head, "Perhaps, but somehow it always happens to me." On that, she turned and went looking for Fang who had curled up behind a rock, visibly still shaken by the confusion that had hit him.

She knelt by the wolf's side, then stroke his head slowly, making him uncurl and lick her hand. Looking over at the two men and the elf, she found Aegis looking even darker and more drawn than before. Something had happened back in the tunnels and her heart told her to go and look after the ranger while her intellect advised her to stay away from anybody if she didn't want to expose them to her erratic magic. Suddenly, she became aware of the elf looking back at her, just as thoughtful.

After reassuring Mysteria, Thantor stood for a long moment next to Bloodstalker, not responding to his words. Thantor had noted their proximity to the Abomination for some time, the voracious hunger that marked the creature surfacing in his mind like the bubbling of a subterranean stench. Yet as the party had moved closer to their objective, a growing sense of unease began to occupy Thantor. On their initial descent into the lair, he had been distracted by the urgency of finding Georgi, of his own guilt and anger. But slowly the various elements of their situation began to come together in disturbing ways. For one, there was no use of the shriek fungus paste that the drow favored. True, this wasn't a drow community, but the use of the paste, which emits a high-pitched shrieking noise when exposed to light, would have been a first line of defense in any type of drow installation. For another, they had seen no spiders -- not one of the giant guardian-type insects had been encountered. And to be this close to the supposed core of lair without so much as a contingent of guards… it was wrong. He left Bloodstalker without comment and signaled briskly to Simbul. She descended from her usual aerial position, noting the grim set of his face. "You rang," she said, lifting an eyebrow. He quickly outlined for her his thoughts and with each passing concern her face became as grim as his. "It would seems we are being skillfully manipulated to a lethal end," she said quietly. "We need to …"

At just that moment T'lainya burst out of the passageway to the right of the throne. "The Abomination! I have seen it! We must attack now, while it is weak. Come, I will show you…"

"No!" Thantor cried. "It is a trap! We need to fall back!" Uncertain and confused, the party looked from one to the other. Dragon Wench looked searchingly at Yshania, but the druid only shook her head, unnerved at the conflict that was ensuing between two of the people she trusted most in the party. Gwally's usual nonchalance fell away as he turned to Thantor and asked, "What are you saying?" Thantor quickly repeated everything he had said to Simbul. T'lainya was not convinced. "There is much dissention here, which I have witnessed myself. The alliance between the drow and the Shadow Master appears to be crumbling and other strange things are afoot." She thought to mention the orb she had retrieved from the Abomination's lair, but pressed on instead with her main argument. "Everything you are saying could simply be because of disarray and not the nefarious schemes of another. Consider carefully what you are suggesting Thantor. If we chose wrongly, we may not get another chance to destroy the Abomination."

"I agree with you, T'lainya," Thantor replied in measured tone. "If we chose wrongly, none of us will ever get another chance."

Gwalchmai had a sudden thought. He found a secluded corner and began furiously casting a rarely used druidical spell. The chant was complicated and he nearly stumbled over the words several times, which would have resulted in a cataclysmic explosion of gritty sand to fly about the cavern (oddly, the sand, if it had been created, would have clumped together on contact with any wetness. . . .). Fortunately, Gwalchmai’s concentration won the day. Breathing a sigh of relief and wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, he gazed proudly at the results of the Conjure Catnip spell. He fished a bright length of yarn out of his pack and carefully tied the handful of weeds in a nice bow.

Dragon Wench approached and asked what he was doing. Gwalchmai shrugged and set the little package down on a prominent rock. “It’s just a little present for Aqua-Chan, should she ever decide to rejoin us.” Dragon Wench gave him a questioning look. “Just a little birthday present – not that I would know if that's today, of course. . . . !”

Like clockwork, AC rushed into the room and followed her senses to the things that had pulled her through the maze of tunnels. Without hesitation or notice to the odd looks she was recieving, she went directly for the catnip and yarn, and within a few moments was tangled up in the string. Gwally approached her.

"What can I say? I'm a stickler for stimulants."

Gwally gave her a pat on the head and looked back to Dragon Wench, who only could raise an eyebrow.

T’lainya, Simbul, and Thantor continued their heated, but hushed, discussion on the possibility that a trap awaited them in the lair of the abomination. Dragon Wench wondered abstractly whether a great heap of rotting muck could really be capable of thoughts complex enough to set lures, traps, and snares that would fool the Dark Flames. Still, listening to the debate, she felt that this was just one more impediment to getting this whole battle over with; one more delay before she could get out of these infernal, cramped tunnels. Oh, how she wished she could breath again!

She had to do something to distract herself from the suffocating cloud of fear she felt welling up within her. The pool! Yes, she almost forgot to tell anyone about the clear spring she had just found! She drew Gwalchmai away from the group and showed him the flask of water she had collected. At first he was distracted by trying to listen to Thantor’s suspicions at the same time, and only leant half an ear to Dragon Wench’s tale of the spring, pool, and ladles. Exasperated, she tugged sharply on his cloak and thrust the water flask into his hands.

Frowning, he un-stoppered the flask and sniffed. One eyebrow shot up and he turned his full attention on Dragon Wench. “Water of Eldath,” he whispered reverently. He wetted a finger and tasted the water. “It no longer retains its healing properties, but her blessings are obvious in its purity and clarity!”

“What is ‘Water of Eldath’?” Dragon Wench asked, confused.

“Many rituals of the Eldathyn involve natural pools of water, and on occasion an Avatar of Elthath presents herself. In these cases, the pool becomes a natural source of the Water of Eldath, which can heal and regenerate any who bath in the pool until the dawn of the next day. This water is also used as a prime component of several spells that are particular to the Peacemen and Peacewomen of Eldath.” Gwalchmai began to grow more agitated as he thought. “Clearly this pool of water has been blessed by the goddess herself, but how can this be? Here, underground, is hardly an appropriate temple or shrine to her!” He began to pace furiously back and forth, muttering to himself.

“Gwally?” Dragon Wench ventured quietly, “Eldath is the one who spoke to you and I that time in the keep, isn’t she? She showed us Rai’ya for the first time, and started us on the road to finding peace for her spirit.”

Gwalchmai stopped and looked at her. “Yes. And the Rai’ya mystery centered on the keep, which was somehow tied to the plans of the Shadow Master. That leads us directly to the Abomination.” He suddenly took Dragon Wench by the shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes. “You must tell me where this pool is!”

Startled, Dragon Wench pointed at the entrance to a small passage, “It is just down there. . . .”

Gwalchmai was gone.

Yshania listened to the various hushed debates, then watched as Gwalchmai turned and ran, apparently towards the Abomination. Her elemental thoughts swirled without forming anything coherent, she was confused and frustrated that she was unable to communicate. Reluctantly she began to consider letting go of this power that her elemental form had afforded her. The physical capabilities...the corner of her "mouth" lifted wryly as she recalled the satisfaction of tearing that mouther limb from limb, how good had that felt? Her mind beyond reach of their cacophany, her thoughts not steady enough to have been affected. There were some advantages to the near idiocy that her transformation had caused, the slow catch up of conscious thought with the polymorph of her flesh. The base animal instinct. How part of her yearned to stay there.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and concentrated on returning to her mortal form. The light in the cavern that she had cast with her flames died as she returned, the others turned towards her. "Back" she said quietly, searching all of their faces. As her flames died, leaving her somewhat sooty and dishevelled, she turned to her friends. "What's this about traps and Eldath? Surely not...." Her confused thoughts had linked the two incorrectly...

*Takes a Deep Breath*

Riding out into the early morning to round up a few strays that had wandered
into the box canyon, Scayde had no idea of what path fate had already chosen for her. If the blue bonnets had not been in bloom, glistening like fields of
sapphires across the Texas hill country, if the mockingbird's song had been a
little less sweet, if there hadn't been the doe and her twin fawns playing near the creek, she might have paid more attention to where she was going. But the morning was the kind that swept you out of yourself and that is exactly what happened.

Heading down the slope into the canyon, Scayde was taken by the majestic
red-tailed hawk performing his aerials overhead and the exhilaration of the life all around her. Breathing the crisp air, she gave Hunter -- beautiful line-back dun she was riding-- a little kick in the flank, and thrilled at his responsive burst of speed. She remembered the feeling of the wind in her hair…. Then something went terribly wrong.

Suddenly she was sliding fast, and falling faster. Her first thoughts went to
Hunter's precious but fragile legs. Hunter was more than her horse. He was her companion and childhood friend, a gift from her father on her 16th birthday. They had grown up together. Now he was in danger, and the realization that it was her fault was like a kick in the chest.

Headlong they began to tumble down what seemed to be a shaft of some sort. For years her daddy had warned about the caverns hidden in these limestone hills. As she did her best to try and control their slide, she shook her head angrily. A grown woman should know better. All thoughts of recrimination left, however, as she realized they were still falling, now in total darkness. Hunter pawed at the air as she screamed in desperation. Abruptly the fall ended in a thunderous splash as the cold, dark water abruptly ended their decent.

Just as her lungs were about to burst from the burning lack of oxygen, horse and rider exploded to the surface. Violently gasping for air, it took a minute for each of them to realize they had made it safely through the flue. Wiping the water impatiently out of her eyes, Scayde guiding her horse to solid ground. Quickly dismounting, she anxiously checks her companion for injuries, and almost sobbed with relief to find him whole. Standing up, she reached in her saddlebag and pulled out her hat in order to tuck her wet hair up out of her face.

For the first time she noticed that, although the light was dim, she was able to see for a short distance. As she reached up to lead Hunter out of the pool where they had surface, she felt a sudden ache in her left shoulder. Rubbing it briefly, she heard a muffled noise directly in front of them. She quickly pulled the 270-varmint gun from her saddle case. Rattlers were known to live in these caverns…, or worse. Strangely, the gun was glowing a weird blue color! As if it had been dipped in phosphorescent paint. Her heart began raced as her fears and uncertainties began to mount.

She and Hunter moved forward, the noise becoming more distinct as they moved down the passageway. Voices… she heard voices. The first blush of relief quickly faded when she discovered they were speaking a strange language. Not English,…. And yet she was able to understand what they were saying. Giving Hunter a pat, mostly to reassure herself, she cautiously headed in the direction of the voices, trying to discern which direction they were coming from. In doing so, she failed to see the loose rock underfoot and her left boot swung out from under her. Stumbling, her hands instinctively shot out to catch her balance, the 270-varmint gun slamming against the cave wall.

As DW looked about in astonishment and concern at Gwally's absence, Thantor,
Jennabard, and T'lainya suddenly became aware of the sound of metal against
rock. Weapons drawn, Thantor and Jenna turned toward the source of the sound,
tense and coiled. Above them, Simbul noticed their preparation for battle and
moved into range to offer support. Looking down the small passageway, Thantor
could make out two dim shapes that appeared to be a horse with its rider on
foot. This was puzzling since neither drow nor orcs traveled by horseback
underground. Adding to the confusion, the intruder appeared to be talking to
itself.

"Ok, there has to be a logical reason for all of this. Let's see -- no bump on the head, haven't seen any psychedelic fungus, wasn't alive during the '60s …"

Thantor still couldn't see who this creature was since a large ten-gallon hat
was covering its face. Maybe it was one of the skeleton cowboys they had run
into earlier? But apparently from the sound of it she was female and from what he could see she apparently wasn't a warrior.

Stepping into the mouth of the passage, Thantor asked, "Could I help you?" Startled, the intruder jumped back suddenly, bumping into her horse, her hat flying off her head. Instinctively her hands flew up bringing the 270-varmint gun to a dead eye aim. In one swift motion, the gun was c0cked and ready with the bead on the man in front.

Thantor was startled to find himself facing a stunning human redhead holding a lethal-looking metal object in his face.

"Not unless you're Tim McGraw,". she replied evenly. The rest of the party came up quickly, surrounding Thantor. The woman's green eyes narrowed as she appraised this bizarre mob of people, some wearing armor, others wearing some kind of ritualistic robes. "Suppose you start telling me who the hell you are, and what you're doin' on my daddy's ranch"

Then suddenly, for no apparent reason, her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my god," she exclaimed.

Viv looked at the woman with a puzzled expression and said, "She doesn't seem
like a mean person. Maybe she is lost." Before anyone else could say a word, the woman began talking in a very excited fashion.

"Oh my god, Travis Hokum, that sad Internet geek, said that you would be here but… but I just didn't believe him! I mean, first of all I didn't think that they were really shooting a "Xena: Warrior Princess" movie. But a secret location near my hometown -- no way! And the weird language thing all makes sense -- you're all speaking Australian!"

"Oh yes. She is lost all right," intoned Simbul sardonically. The woman looked up to see Simbul perched in the air above them. "Whoa…. cool wire work," she said with obvious admiration. Jenna's hand went to her chest self-consciously. Well, she fumed, I may not be some goddess-super-hero, but my bra is just as nice as hers….

"Oookay," said Thantor slowly. "Maybe you could tell us who you are and what you are doing here."

“I’ll handle this!” Bloodstalker said as he pushed his way to the front of the group. “I recognize her speech. Its an obscure dialect of the Texican Barbarian Tribe in the southern Anauroch Plain.”

He stood in front of Scayde and touched his finger to his forehead as some sort of salute. He gave her his broadest smile and hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Howdy-do ma’am!” he said to her in a loud voice as though he were addressing a deaf person, “Why, ain’t you just the pertiest lit’l filly Ah ever did lay eyes on! Ah tell you whut, Ah’d feel lower ‘n a snake’s belly in a wagon rut if I didn’t hep you out! Now, whut kain Ah do fer ya?”

The mysterious woman turned to Vivien and whispered worriedly, “Is this guy
alright? He sure does talk funny.” Vivien patted Scayde on the arm and led her away from Bloodstalker.

Bloodstalker looked confused. “What did I do wrong?” he muttered to himself,
“I’m sure I got the idiom correct. Hmmm. Maybe I need a bigger belt buckle……”

Aegis took a few steps next to Bloodstalker, and glanced casually at him. Bloodstalker c0cked his head to the side, and tilted it, looking towards the ranger.

"Was it something I said?" he asked curiosly.

Aegis gave a small smirk, and shook his head. "Perhaps you just need some more red on your neck..." Aegis said sarcastically. Bloodstalker stopped for a second, then smiled, and nudged the smaller man in the ribs. Aegis nodded to Bloodstalker, the moved off to the side of the group, and leaned against the rock wall, folding his arms across his chest, and waited for the thrill of the newcomer to pass, so that they would continue on with their mission, so that they could return to the surface. He was begining to feel cramped in the confines of the subterraining caverns, and longed for the fresh air, and spacious landscapes of the surface.

...in the darkness, there is no place to hide. Two eyes of green fire knew this well.

The wrath of Thalimon roared into the band of silent Drow warriors, their curved blades grinning wickedly in the cavernous gloom of the tunnel. To these eyes they glittered as if in full torchlight, and the snarls of dismay on their dark faces belied their surprise as whirling, slashing blades fell the lead warrior, screaming as white fire seared through his hardened chain.

The confusion of the males was quickly overcome as they faced their assailant on the path - their eyes, like his, alive in the shrouded gloom. Twin eyes of green fire leaped clear of the fallen drow, clad in mail splattered with black, steaming blood. In each hand their eyes beheld a long blade of exceeding sharpness, and in the speech of their kind the Drow threw all pretense of stealth to the wind.

"It is the demon! It is he! The Mother shall be pleased! Rivvil!"

A broad grin cracked the features of those blazing green eyes, white teeth dazzling to the battle ready Drow. The dance begun.

Leaping as a cat freed from the cage, the shining blades rang against the shield of Unnatht Vanaytha, Warrior of the First House. Smirking at the glaring opportunity the green eyes availed him, Unnatht prepared a vicious blow for the Queen...

It is too easy...

...and too late. His hand was liberated from his swordarm as one of the blades reversed its arc, denying the Drow the nights of pleasure he would have earned if only he had prepared for the demon's ruse.

Falling to his knees, Unnatht was dimly aware of the scream of Suth'Talis as white fire blazed in the tunnel. If only he had prepared...if only he had prepared.

Far from the fray Iilya Vanaytha of the First House hissed through her teeth. Incompetent males! Can they not deal with the demon themselves? I shall flay them for their bungling...

*Kt'chk!* The sound echoed through the gloom of the tunnel as Iilya loaded the crossbow, silently making her way towards the carnage ahead.

Whirling death was held at bay by the swords of the remaining drow warriors. Both were hard pressed to keep the grinning demon from advancing...the eyes seemed to mock them...taunt them into taking the offensive.

A seeming lull in the offensive gave the Drow some pause, only to hear the green eyes utter these words...

"Torm take you, you filthy devils...I shall have my vengeance."

The sudden blurring of his blades caused the warrior on the left to stumble, and in a panic he cried out to his comrade for aid. "Yyothii! Yyothii! Aiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"

Yyothii could not answer, for his head flew into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving the stricken drow alone to face the wrath of the demon...

*Theeeeeeeechunk!* "Ugh!"

The whizzing bolt found it's mark in the mailed shoulder of the green eyes, and he paused to discern it's source in the darkness beyond. Immediately he felt the poison mix with the steaming blood in his veins...

The stricken drow was stricken no longer.

The pair of green eyes fended off the warrior's frenzied blows as he sought cover from the source of the poisoned bolt. He could hold, as it was, but another might do more damage....

*Theeeeeeeeethok!* "Ungh!"

The drow began to appear as two in his watery vision, and the pair of green eyes strove to hold his swords aloft in this, the end of the dance...

With the last of his will the green eyes swung his blades in an upward crossing arc, and the drow howled with glee at the opening that this made. Lunging for the finish, he could taste the pleasures that Iilya's approval would bring.

His thought was silenced abruptly as the demon vanished from his sight, and his blade lunged at empty space. The confusion still wrinkled his dark features as white fire surged through his belly...the demon, falling to the ground, had thrust his blades deep within the Drow's midsection. He toppled lifelessly upon the pair of green eyes, his sword clanging uselessly on the stony floor of the tunnel.

The dance was almost done... but not yet for the whirling death of the Drow, and he tossed the corpse of his foe aside as he struggled to rise to his feet.

*Whirrrrrrrrrrrthak!*

Black spots danced before his vision as he lost sensation in his shoulder, then his arm....slowly it spread like a blanket of doom, and as his eyes closed he could see a Drow priestess in the distance, reloading her hand-bow with an air of non-chalance.

He knew he could dance no more.

Ahhhh...those weak fools. Look at the fear on their faces... Iilya stepped carefully amongst the corpses, making her way to the fallen pair of eyes, darkened by the slumber of the poison.

"I shall return for you, mighty one. You interest me..." The Drow laughed harshly as she fingered the brooch of her cloak. She held the tail that belonged to the darkened eyes in her gloved hand, and a wistful look passed over the normally cruel lines of her dark face.

"I have never seen the likes of you before...no, never. Sleep, then, and I shall return before you wake...." She arose swiftly and returned whence she came, leaving the scene of the dance as she thought of her aging Mother, and the role this one could play in her plans...

Jaw dropping, Dragon Wench studied the stranger that had just appeared in their midst. Cautiously, she glanced around at her companions, and observed that they were equally shocked by this sudden manifestation. After several long moments, she pushed her hair out of her eyes, and let her glance fall upon the stranger’s horse…. a magnificent and spirited animal. Dragon Wench also noted that the women before them appeared sun-kissed….truly imbued with a glow of life that seemed antithetical to these seemingly ceaseless tunnels. Consumed by an intense longing to feel the wind in her face, and Midnight Spirit’s muscles bunching beneath her as they rode, Dragon Wench finally found her voice. “You have a beautiful horse,” she said softy.

A memory of riding across moonlight flickered over the valleys of her consciousness, and suddenly it was too much. Abruptly she turned, deciding to return to the tranquillity of the pool she had discovered earlier….. Several moments later as she navigated the winding tunnel, it occurred to her that something felt wrong. Dragon Wench stopped and looked around; cursing, she realised that in her haste to flee she had taken a wrong turn. A sharp scraping somewhere ahead distracted her from the self-absorbed reflection to which she was prone, and instinctively she sank into the shadows straining to see what lurked in the darkness nearby….

Remembering that she was clad in a mage robe rather than armour, Dragon Wench quickly cast a few protective spells upon herself and, gripping her sword, cautiously proceeded forward. As she rounded a corner something resembling a muffled groan arose from a niche alongside the wall…. Warily, she inched towards the sound……glad that her crimson ring offered a small amount of light within the inky blackness. Then she saw it…. A crumpled, seemingly metallic, heap lay sprawled upon the ground. She let out a gasp as her gaze fell upon the downed warrior…. His helm had somehow rolled off to one side, revealing dark skin……and….. she swallowed uncertainly…..tiny horns….. Dragon Wench felt herself begin to sway slightly and she wondered if perhaps the poisonous air in the tunnels had finally began to induce hallucinations…. The figure stirred slightly beneath her gaze, and she found herself looking down into glowing, green eyes. Fighting for composure Dragon Wench leaned against the wall and once more considered the strange warrior at her feet. Freshly shed…...steaming....black…… blood….. caked the warrior’s embossed plate mail…and…. was that a tail snaking out from beneath his armour??? Still gripping her sword, her breathing shallow, Dragon Wench knelt down and hesitantly wondered if she should offer her help….

The dance...

Slowly Thalimon's eyes opened to the silence of the tunnel. All about him was laid waste, the corpses of the Drow crumpled in heaps, the red light of their eyes extinguished forevermore...

Yylothii's lifeless head seemed to regard him almost thoughfully as he flexed his numbed arms, seeking somehow to rise from the stone floor. He could feel the life surging back into his aching limbs, fighting off the chill of the Drow poison. What a mixed blessing his infernal blood has been, Thalimon mused, as he managed to roll to one side...

and directly upon a poisoned bolt. Thalimon moaned softly as the quarrel bit deeper into the flesh of his shoulder, and he cursed the Drow priestess for her deadly accuracy.

Footsteps echoing nearby...

His keen senses could hear the footfalls approaching...

Not Drow...no, too heavy...

Red light began to flood his vision.

No, defintely not Drow, nor Duergar...

As he tried to shift his balance behind him, Thalimon succeeded in driving the other bolt in deeper as well...a moan escaped his lips as he caught sight of booted feet standing before him, and slowly he lifted his eyes to meet the owner of those feet.

The blue eyes of the woman standing before him widened in surprise as he beheld a vision he had not seen for a very, very long time...

A human.

He had almost forgotten the people of his mother, dear Shalimare, taken from him those long winters ago by the Drow raid. They came in the dead of the night, they did, without warning, and she who had sung of the sun, and the moon, and the stars in the spring of his youth was no more. She was no more.

She was like her, this woman, in some way that tugged faintly at his heart...

It was her eyes. His mother had eyes such as these, blue and searching...

only she was not Shalimare, and Shalimare was not gripping a sword, looking down upon him in this cursed tunnel of evil.

She was clad in a coppery cloak, this fair-haired woman, and a long robe flowed down to her ankles, the dweomer clearly visible in the red light of her crimson ring. She was a spellcaster, this one.

His tongue like a leaden weight, Thalimon forced his lips to part...

"I...I...I mean you no harm, fair lady. You are not Drow, and therefore are not my foe. I...I fear I am at your mercy here in this place of evil. Do as you will, for I, Thalimon Sheshtare, shall not lift my feeble arms against you."

Wordlessly Dragon Wench cast her pack from her shoulders and began searching its depths. Several moments passed and she sensed the gentle gaze of the warrior as she struggled to find the potion of healing she still had left. Her hand brushed against a tightly wrapped packet...dried meat..... Relieved that she had found something of sustenance she pulled it out, and then continued her search. After what seemed an eternity her hand closed around the smooth glass bottle that she knew would bring some measure of relief to the injured....man....

Deftly, she uncorked the bottle, and held it to his lips, ensuring that he had drank it all before placing it on the ground. Then, waiting for the vial to take effect, she reached for the meat and held it out to the warrior. "We have been underground...it seems forever now....this is all I can offer you in the way of food..."

Remembering her manners, Dragon Wench introduced herself, and, her expression still reserved, she smiled shyly.......

The man....Thalimon.... returned her smile and, as he struggled to a sitting position, assured her again that he intended no harm.

Feeling that perhaps she should offer her own assurances and further explain her presence in the tunnels, Dragon Wench spoke again..... "I never harm another unless I am left with no choice.........My companions and I, the Dark Flames, have been exploring these tunnels for some time now....we are preparing to battle perhaps the most evil creature to have ever fouled the plains upon which we walk."

Thalimon pulled deeply from the proferred flask, and immediately strength began to return to his battered body.

"My thanks, fair lady..."

His nostrils caught the scent of the dried meat as she brought it forth from her pack, and his stomach growled at the prospect of food, something which he had long gone without.

Dragon Wench (as she had introduced herself) explained that she had been underground long, and apologized for her meager offering. She smiled as she offered the food with outstretched hand.

Utilizing his returning vigor, Thalimon propped himself up against the tunnel wall. He could sense the tension in the air, and he knew that his somewhat unusual appearance must have this kind soul somewhat concerned for her own safety.

"I assure you, Dragon Wench, that I bear you no ill will. Rest easy, my new found friend...these tunnels are filled with horrors enough as it is for you to feel ill at ease here."

He gladly accepted the dried meat, and listened intently as Dragon Wench related the tale of her journey in the tunnels with her comrades, the Dark Flames. They were in pursuit of a dread being of evil...Thalimon's eyes flared in response.

"I...I, too, am in pursuit of a great evil. I have been in these accursed tunnels for Torm knows how long..." Thalimon's gaze dropped to the protruding crossbow quarrels in his shoulder and side.

"You have been so kind, Dragon Wench. I am in your debt." Thalimon smiled as he grasped the bolt in his shoulder. "Now I must beg your leave as I remove these barbs from my body, lest they fester and run hot with fever."

The pain was exquisite as the bolt was liberated from his shoulder, and without pause Thalimon quickly dealt with the other two. The concern on Dragon Wench's face brought a slim smile to Thalimon's dark face as he noticed her searching the depths of her pack.

"Ah, there is no need, my friend, no need. For now Thalimon is well enough, and of a clearer mind, so that he may heal these nasty wounds of spiteful malice."

He closed his eyes, and held forth his hand. It glowed brightly in the red light of Dragon Wench's ring, and as he touched his hand to his shoulder, a sigh went forth from his lips...which quickly bloomed into a broad smile, illuminating his dark features in a way Dragon Wench had not noticed before.

"Well met, my friend!" Thalimon boomed as he rose to his feet, and extended his hand to Dragon Wench. "I am ever in your debt...and I am at your service."