Chronicles of an Age of Darkness

Volume 11

"The Wyvvern and the Warlock"
(a Fanfiction Work)

By
Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

Dedicated to Hugh Cook
Creator of the Chronicles of an Age of Darkness World and Author of Volumes 1 to 10


CHAPTER ONE

Day Suet had always fancied herself a maiden of quite serene and noble beauty. But of the host of maidens on the land of Sung that was not really saying that much. Sung was a backwater land, just offshore the continent of Argan which had become beset with wild beasts, known as the swarms, since the breaking of a certain barrier on the south of the continent. Day rarely gave thought to the concerns of the continent of Argan, so caught up in her beauty and maidenhood, which was a shame really. Because the questing hero, Togura Poulaan, her beloved was currently running as fast as he verily could away from the clutches of one of the said wild beasts, intent on reaching the safety of a certain bottle which was in the possession of a befriended wizard who was currently in the form of a giant eagle, doing its very beast to persuade an unpersuadable monster from deferring its hunger to find a more suitable appetizer than the scrawny and most definitely undelicious Togura.

'Get the hell down here Kalphor,' yelled the much distressed Togura to the giant eagle which was still attacking the three headed beast, having successfully pecked out 3 of its 9 eyes so far. The beast was enraged and currently preoccupied with the eagle, so much so that Togura had safely climbed a large pine tree and was signalling for the wizard to come down so he could board the bottle to safety and the eagle could fly away to a safer place. The particular bottle in question was modelled on another set of bottles, but this one was smaller, a dark bluey green in colour and on the vast interior, not quite as large overall as its predecessors had been. It was rumoured that these bottles, which had recently been claiming fame somewhat, were of a series of 7 special bottles used by an ancient kingdom in its wars for retreating soldiers. But that was a matter of speculation, as nobody on Sung really knew were the bottles had originated, and when Kalphor, a cousin of a wizard called Phyphor, had arrived with the bottle to Togura Poulaan's address, seeking an audience with the challenger to the Odex with a plan for storing all the potential goods of the Odex in the bottle, with Togura's assistance, Togura, while he had dismissed such an idea, had marvelled at the bottle and persuaded Kalphor to accompany him on a quest to pillage the abandoned treasures of the halls of Argan and store any treasures they happened upon in the said bottle.

Naturally, Kalphor had been reluctant. But greed was always a good motivation for a wizard who often lived on a shoestring. And armed with Togura's definite and proud self belief and whatever wizardries the wizard could muster, they had set forth from Sung, Togura having kissed farewell his beloved Day Suet, and made the way towards Argan.

They had landed on the north-western shore of Argan and, carefully hiding from the beasts, the wizard in the form of a giant eagle, carrying the bottle in a brown satchel around its neck were Togura lived happily while they flew from keep to keep and town to town, they'd had many dark encounters but, so far, escaped harm. That was until this very moment when the questing hero, very concerned with the fate of his skin and trying to avoid the gaze of the beast, was signalling to the wizard to 'get the hell down here.' Fortunately the eagle obeyed the request and, gathering Togura in its claws, flew high up to the thickest part of the forest they were in and, resting on a branch, gave the satchel to Togura who took the bottle, and holding the pendant around his neck with a diamond on it, which for this particular bottle was the key to entering it, pushed the diamond while clutching onto the eagle wizard and saying the spell, quickly disappeared into a bluey green smokey substance which entered the head of the bottle.

A short while later, emptying the sack he had with him of their latest finds into the corner of the main upper sanctuary of the bottle, Togura announced to the wizard that, with the finds they had been successful in uncovering, they could perhaps now think of returning home to Sung to spend their fortune.
'Methinks you speak wisely, Togura. But I have a plan,' objected Kalphor.
'A plan? Speak on. If it is to bring wealth I won't object greatly. But we are wealthy now, Kalphor, and I don't like the idea of facing too many more quests in my life for fortune or rescuing fair maidens, even ones as lovely as Day Suet.'
'Yet this plan of mine, well, if we are able to make use of a certain resource we may perchance have available to us, the whole of the continent of Argan could be available to us for plunder without always having to risk ourselves in the fights with these demons from hell.'
'Then what is this plan, Kally. Don't keep it to yourself. Speak on.'
'I know of a Warlock. A Warlock who owes me a life debt, fortunately enough. You see, he was held prisoner in this very bottle for over 1000 years and, upon me rescuing him from the bottle, he pledged to me that should I ever need his services, he would be available for even the most daring of quests.'
'And how does that help us,' asked Togura, now interested.
'This Wizard was trained in the Cold West and has particular powers. Powers over the psyche of Wyvvern's. Powers to make them do his will, for he has drunk much of their blood and knows them intimately. In fact, so he has told me, he has the power to summon several dozen Wyvvern's to his service if he needs to.'
'And the plan?'
'We call in this life debt, travel to the Cold West, gain the services of our Warlock and recruit a dozen or so Wyvvern's. With them as our fighting prowess we can quite certainly raid all the riches of Argan and become wealthy beyond even our wildest dreams.'
Togura, having listened intently, liked the idea. In fact he loved the idea and saw it, should they prove successful, as paving the way for him to become the next Baron Poulaan. Nay, with the money and the foreign mercenary hire he could afford with the wealth of Argan, he could verily challenge the supremacy of the Khmar himself. But ruling from Sung? Perhaps he could travel to a more suitable place. The Ravlish Lands. Parengarenga. Even the great eastern continent of Margenna were heroes were a dime a dozen, or so he had been taught from his youth, not really knowing how much value there was in a dime.

So, thus agreeing to the wisdom of Kalphor on this particular plan, Togura picked up a bottle of wine, toasted Kalphor to their inevitable success, and dreamed of the riches which would surely soon be his.

* * *

Blaz Durass was not exactly what you would call a competent Warlock. In fact, recalling his earlier days under the tutelage of Sarge Bramenday, one of the more highly respectable of the wizards of the Cold West, it was uttered on more than one occasion, in fact quite frequently, that Blaz Durass was far from being a competent student, and would never pass his exams for acceptance into the Guild of the Universal Order of Wizards, Witches and Warlocks. This particular guild, one of several such guilds of the Cold West, being a trend which had caught on centuries back, was one of the more established and respected guilds. So much so that they gave a cautious guarantee, as cautious as the word of a wizard could be, that all successful pupils passing their degree course in wizardry and magic would be competent enough for the slaying of any dangerous dragon or the successful practice of raising from the dead, or turning blood into Jelly or any of the other more ambiguous callings that a wizard may happenchance be called upon to perform. And because of the said guarantee from such an esteemed school of magic, Blaz had forthrightly enrolled, confident, despite his father's constant objections that he should get a real job, that he would become a world class wizard, quite capable of turning blood into Jelly. In point of fact, despite the truth that he'd had years of wizarding adventures to master the art, Blaz Durass, as befitted his level of competency, was still unable to turn blood into Jelly. Actually, he usually vomited at the sight of blood, his complexion turning quite pale. But, nonetheless, he had in fact passed his exams in the end, albeit with straight D's, and happily took his membership in the guild at the reluctance of the head wizard and the board of executives, and proudly displayed his degree in his room, boasting to his father that the world was now at his doorstep. His father knew the better.

They didn't exactly come a knocking on the door of Blaz Durass, and despite his extensive advertising in the Wizarding Gazette, a popular publication in the Cold West, after one year of solid unemployment, Blaz was distressed. Most distressed. But fortune favours the brave, and for all that hard work and effort, for 7 years of constant worrying whether he'd mixed his reagents in the correct manner, or whether his enchantments would work in the prescribed way, or whether his wand was powerful enough, Blaz finally had his breakthrough when a warlord, having come into the ownership of a special magical bottle, engaged Blaz's services to see just how he could, apparently, store his army in the bottle for the purposes of sneak attacks and urgent retreats.

Blaz had, delightfully, taken to the task and spent several weeks, coming to months, in the archives of the guild, researching all he could on ancient storage bottles.

It had been incredibly dull work, but he was learning constantly and, finally, finding a meagre reference, he touched the pendant, said the spell, and was instantly transmogrified and taken into the bottle. But he'd made one simple mistake. The pendant needed to be worn around his neck in physical contact with his skin, otherwise it would be left behind outside of the bottle and, because of that, he would be left with no escape from the bottle should he have proven such a dullard to make such a mistake. Which is exactly why the competency of Blaz Durass had seriously been questioned by so many, for he in historical fact did make such a blunder. To his credit, he had been zealous, and when overcome with joy for the finding of the reference and uttering the spell once he had touched the diamond, he had failed to read further into the passage which proclaimed the importance of wearing the said pendant against one's chest or skin. And due to this unfortunate mistake, Blaz had found himself sucked inside the bottle, with no apparent way of escape. And there he had remained, for a solid millennium, wondering when on earth one of his wizarding compatriots would take the time to work out exactly were he had disappeared to. Alack and alas, not only had they in fact known were he had gone, and had a fair idea of how to get him back should they want to, the head of the guild had quietly taken the bottle, stored it up on the uppermost shelf of his library, and taken it to mind to give as much forgetfulness to the person of Blaz Durass and the said bottle as possible. And for 1000 years he was quite successful at this objective.

But pity is a strange beast, and despite, as the millennium passed, and thinking he really should know better, the head of the guild had sold the bottle at a hefty sum to a certain 'Kalphor' who was interested in acquiring magical items with useful purposes. The wizard had instructed him, quite carefully, that a mad wizard likely still resided in the bottle, and to be well and truly far away from the headquarters of the guild before he dared using the charm to enter the bottle. Kalphor, being a hospitable enough type of wizard, gladly accepted this obligation and, being a suitable distance from the home of the guild, used the pendant and entered the bottle.

A wizard, he assumed, greeted him. Or what was left of a wizard. Blaz was naked, as had become his custom, with a rather lengthy beard, and munching on what looked to be 40 Trillion years supply of stale crackers and bland wine, was suddenly quite surprised and overwhelmed to be visited upon.

And, for the salvation which Kalphor had given Blaz, he promptly promised him a life debt, should he ever have need of a highly trained wizard, and began to boast of his great powers and apparent abilities to utilize the services of Wyvvern's, of all creatures, to any task he should so desire.

Kalphor believed him. Which was perhaps quite foolish, having not heeded the guild heads advice the Blaz was indeed mad, and as such, one fine afternoon in the Cold west, Blaz Durass busily studying a magic tome in the guild of wizards which, to many protestations and objections he had rejoined, them finding no legal avenue to refuse him re-entrance into the guild, Kalphor and Togura Poulaan were steadily making there way up Krozana highway, to the city of Krandor, home to the guild of Wizards, Witches and Warlocks.
Togura looked at the sun in the sky. Through the dismal grey clouds it seemed to hang limply, almost too scared to come out and shine its glory over the increasingly cold environs. The Cold West, which was perhaps a mark of genius in the naming of the said region by some wise geographer of ancient of days, was duly named as such simply because of that very fact - it was extremely, bloody cold. And Togura, used to the more pleasant environs of Sung, which while not famous for its hospitable climate - in fact, quite often the very opposite - was starting to look like paradise in comparison to the rather cold and unwelcoming frost of one of the cooler regions of Olo Malan. But the questing group had no real choice in the matter, for the wizard they sought, the venerable Blaz Durass, resided in Krandor of the Cold West, headquarters to the Guild of Wizards, Witches and Warlocks, and as such Togura's certainty that his toes were starting to turn green looked like there would be no soon abating of his due concerns because of the said Wizards choice of residency. 'Try to look on the bright side of things,' said Kalphor. 'We'll be rich soon enough. And then you can buy all the slippers and mittens and fur coats your heart could possibly desire. Togura, currently weighed down in very thick clothing of such like muttered 'Very funny.'
They continued to trudge on along the road, unable to find any suitable beast willing to bear them in winter in the cold west, when the horses simply froze up and stayed in their kennels, neighing subtle mockeries at the slightest suggestion they should brave the coldest part of the year in a land they had most lovingly come to hate. There were always the standard 'Grizmak's', large bear like creatures which were the common beasts used for pulling sleds during this time of the year in the Cold West but, unfortunately for Togura, he sneezed incessantly whenever he was near such a beast and came out in a most terrible and undesiring red and very itchy rash. In fact, they had been holed up for several weeks near the beginning of their journey in the Cold West, laid up in an inn as Togura recovered from his most eventful encounter with one of the thick fur-cladded beasts.
And so they trudged. Slowly, carefully, inevitably they trudged along the roads and byways of the Cold West, steadily making for the city of Krandor. After 12 weeks of solid marches, though, the weather in truth did seem to be improving somewhat, and Togura's constant bemoaning that Kalphor should resume his eagle form which, so far, had fallen upon deaf ears, was less often the stuff of their conversation as they came into sight of the city of Krandor.
'We should be there in no time,' exclaimed Kalphor, quite happy to have finally arrived at their desired destination.
'It's about bloody time,' remarked Togura in response, but he was in truth quite pleased that they had finally arrived and, despite hating so much the fact of his unavoidable odyssey through the wilds of the Cold West, was starting to think of himself as something of a heroic athlete and man of worth for the great trudging epic they had just about completed. Yes, vanity was a lovely gift to man, and while he often suitably rebuked himself for such pretensions, the pride of his youth still lingered somewhat.
'So what is the address,' began Togura. 'I mean, I assume you know were to find the guild after all.' Kalphor looked at him, momentarily stunned, and then looking away uneasily answered 'Of course I do. Of course I do.' Yet, in truth, he had not the foggiest idea.
The first citizen they met and asked for instructions must have had quite a wicked sense of humour, for they had trudged all the way to the southerly edge of the city in search of the guild, only to befriend another welcoming citizen who told them they had been taken for a ride, which was not uncommon in Krandor, and that the very guild they sought was in fact on the northern edge of the city. Kalphor thanked the kind man, but could not deny his frustrations and Togura's swearing reminded him instantly of the new march they now faced. Yet, thankfully, they found an inn, booked in for the night, and in the warmth of the burning fire in their room, Togura practically roasting his toes, he remarked that tomorrow should be a good day in which they would hopefully locate the desired wizard. Kalphor ensured him they would have no such troubles, despite Togura's careful looks, yet nevertheless slept well that night, enjoying the rare consolation in these lands of a warm bed and warm broth.
The following morn, having amply rested and deciding to leave a little later in the day than their usual, to make full use of their allotted time in the warmth of the inn, in the weather which had fortunately started to improve somewhat, perhaps ironically in Togura's viewpoint, just as they had arrived in Krandor, they managed to thankfully find a horse-driven sled willing to transport them to the guild they desired to frequent.
As they drove along Togura began again questioning Kalphor on the merits of the Warlock Blaz Durass, for on the long road to their destination Kalphor had said the occasional word regarding Blaz and his actual probable abilities that lead Togura to seriously question wether they had indeed sought out the most appropriate of Warlocks for the task in question. But all that Kalphor would say was 'As my cousin Phyphor truly says, you can always trust a wizard,' a remark at which Togura often muttered responses under his breath, always just a little to undiscernible to the ears of Kalphor.
As the midday approached and they neared the guild, a monstrous fortress it seemed on the edge of the city, Togura's attitude generally began to finally improve. 'You'll see,' said Kalphor. 'Blaz will be only too willing to help us. I am sure of it.'
'Let's hope so,' responded the Baron of Poulaan's son.

* * *

Jak Tolkun, student of the Guild of the Universal Order of Wizards, Witches and Warlocks, studying as well as he could to ensure he passed all the requirements of his 7 year degree, moaned once again his frustrations in being suddenly and most embarrassingly covered with a shloss of exploding horse dung. His beloved teacher and guide in his studies, the venerable Blaz Durass, simply looked at Jak's current state and said 'Oh Bother, it has happened again,' which were far from words of consolation to the dung laden Jak. For 5 solid weeks Jak had been the victim of such enchantments, all of them aimed towards the simple purpose of deliquidifying dung to make it a more palatable brown dirt-like substance. For in the cold west it was often the case that sewerage didn't always flow that well and often, in winter in particular, strong smells wafted up into the upper chambers of the wealthy and elite abodes of Krandor, and other notable cities, much to the chagrin of the nobility and finery of the Cold West's honourable ones. As for the poor, well they were poor, and would simply have to make do. But the situation had become such an ordeal for a particular Krandorian nobility that, having sought out the Guild for their expertise, and being pointed towards Blaz Durass who was deemed by the head of the guild the most suitable Warlock to deal with, as it were, the shit, he pleaded his desire of suitable enchantments being made available to deal with the problem of the most unsavoury sewerage.
Blaz, a radical thinker at most times, instantly came up with the plan to deliquidify dung so that the dryer substance, which would thus hopefully not smell, could simply be turned back into the earth and be the cause of no further anxieties. And while Jak Tolkun felt that, should they achieve such a result, which would prove quite a feat of accomplishment for Blaz Durass, it would be well and truly a good thing, bemoaned the fact that after 5 solid weeks of dealing with 'The Shit' as it were, being no closer to success than when they had begun their investigations, dealing with 'The Shit' was becoming a less and less attractive option all the time.
But, alas, he had no choice. In his time in the guild he had come to understand why he was the butt of so many jokes of his fellow students. For while they most definitely did not doubt his own potential and abilities, the reputation of Blaz Durass went before him in such a manner that, should you find yourself paired with the Warlock for any length of time, your future earning potential was deemed less and less attractive with each passing year of apprenticehood.
'Why me,' was what Jak Tolkun moaned to himself more often than not and, as he scrubbed himself in the shower and took to the washing of his garments, he pretended to not hear his teachers calling of his name for them to begin the resumption of their experimentations. But, fortunately for young Jak, he was saved on this one rare occasion by the summoning of Blaz by another student to the head of the guilds den for an important meeting.
Jak breathed a sigh of relief, continued scrubbing his clothes, and thought that the meal that night should somewhat, if only temporarily, make up for his current crop of miserable duties.
Blaz wondered through the large guild hall, working his way up the complex series of hallways and staircases, finally coming to the uppermost level and the grand office of the head of the guild, Crocus Dalbana. He knocked on Crocus' door and, shortly, heard an 'Enter'. Pushing the door open he came in and stood before Crocus desk, blustering that his work had been starting to show promising signs, which was not exactly true, and that he really needed to get back to it. 'I am sure your dealings with the dung of Krandor can wait a while, Blaz,' responded Crocus. 'For you verily have visitors, and all the way from Sung and Argan of all places.' Crocus motioned towards seats, the occupants of which Blaz had not noticed upon entering the office and Togura and Kalphor stood up to introduce themselves. Kalphor spoke, 'Blaz. Blaz Durass. So good to see you again. I am sure you remember me.' Blaz looked at him for a moment, instantly familiar with the face, which was a strength of his, but not quite placing were he knew the fellow from. And then it came back to him, the endless years trapped in the bottle, eating nothing but crackers and drinking nothing but bland wine, walking around naked and reading the same old magic tome on controlling Wyvvern's time after time. And then, the appearance of his saviour. He yelled out then, quite happy to see the wizard again. 'Kalphor!' he exclaimed, instantly putting his arm around the wizard. 'Kalphor my good friend. How good it is to see your face again. Tell me, what brings you hear to the Cold West and the Guild of Wizardry. You're not in need of my services are you?' Togura interrupted.
'Perhaps we could retire to a more suitable place to converse. I am sure Crocus here has much to get back to.
'Thank you Togura,' responded Crocus. 'I am sure the three of you can resume your conversation in Blaz's laboratory. It is a most entertaining of places for reclining, that much I can assure you,' responded the guild head, a subtle mocking grin on his face.
Blaz turned to Crocus, thanked him, and lead his two guests through the complex labyrinth of hallways and stairways back to his laboratory.
Coming into the laboratory Togura looked around. They had just wondered through a complex maze of walkways, Blaz often looking like he was lost from time to time, but they had finally made it to the Warlock's laboratory and were greeted by a young apprentice of Blaz's who introduced himself as 'Jak Tolkun' and asked if they were in need of any refreshments. Togura politely refused and the youth disappeared. The laboratory appeared quite hectic looking to Togura, who had no real idea how a Warlock's laboratory was supposed to look. There were tables laden with all sorts of magical equipment strewn around the room in something of a haphazard fashion, clearly not organized in any sort of logical manner you might expect of or hope for in a Warlock whose services you were seeking to employ. There were what appeared to be a small group of young rodents in a corner amongst some hay which appeared to have full access to crawling around the laboratory at will. One table was piled high with notes and tomes of magic, all looking like the confused desk of a public servant too stressed with life and its problems to do any real work. And there was a smell, a most notable and distinct smell, which Togura instantly was familiar with, as most people were in fact familiar with the smell of decaying dung. But, amidst all these problems, Blaz seemed to take it for granted that his laboratory should be as such, and pushing some tomes from two recliner couches against a far wall, Blaz indicated that they should sit.
Blaz looked at Kalphor, again seeming overjoyed to be in his presence once again, and said 'Now tell me. Why the visit? Is it happy friendship or do you need my services.' Kalphor looked nervously at Togura, sensing immediate disapproval, but began their planned conversation. 'Well, Blaz. It is like this. My friend here, Togura, was visited upon by myself in his homeland of Sung one fine day for the purposes of utilizing the bottle which you entrusted to me for the storage, hopefully, of a cavalcade of products from a certain magical device in the possession of a group known as the Wordsmiths. For Togura has the uncanny ability to be able to draw forth items from this device, this device known simply as 'The Odex'. In my travels I have come across what is called an 'Index' and with Togura's help I planned on using the Index to access the Odex and, keeping all the goods and properties emanating from the Odex, storing them in our beloved bottle for safekeeping. Yet Togura refused my request, another idea on his mind.'
'Which was?' queried Blaz.
'The travelling to the abandoned land of Argan, taken over by the swarms of the deep south, to ransack as many of the emptied villages and cities for any left behind treasures we could find. It has certainly been dangerous work, and we have acquired a number of treasures, but alas the threat of the swarms has simply become too much to deal with and risk our lives against. Which is why we have sought out you.'
Blaz nodded. He was following the conversation so far. 'What do you want from me then?'
'As you may recall,' continued Kalphor, 'You swore a life debt to me for the redeeming of yourself from the bottle. And I have come to call in this life debt. You claimed to me that you have power of wyverns? To control their minds? Is this still the case?'
Blaz looked at Kalphor nervously, too frightened to say that he had never really quite put his knowledge to the test in attempting to control wyverns, the practice of he had studied for a millennia reading the magic tome in the bottle, but never trying to do so in the real world, but, to save face, simply nodded to Kalphor that he could.
'Then our plan is this. We travel to the region of the Wyvvern's here in the Cold West and you utilize your abilities to take control of a Wyvvern or many Wyvvern's and, having gained the services of the creatures, we travel back to Argan to continue our work, armed with the fierce creatures as defence against the swarms.'
Blaz stammered nervously but, finally, realizing his promised life debt had been called in, and being a man of his word as his father taught him, simply nodded his agreement.
'Well, if it is not too much trouble then,' began Togura,' we will stay the night here at the guild and begin our journey tomorrow.
'That, that should be ok,' responded Blaz, just starting to realize the predicament he had suddenly gotten himself into.
The following morning Blaz organised for some horses to be obtained from a nearby stable and rising early Togura and Kalphor found themselves fitted out with fine looking steeds pulling a carriage which seemed quite suitable for their travels. A far more amenable option than they had so far been used to in the Cold West. Blaz excused himself from the group, claiming he wanted to see his guild head before leaving and, as he made his way back into the guild headquarters he wondered to himself if there was still any way he might be able to excuse himself from this little adventure. But a debt was a debt and he knew he had to show himself a man of honour, for his reputation would be at stake because of it.
Coming to Crocus Dalbana's office he knocked and was bidden to enter. After explaining his life debt and need to be away from the guild for perhaps several months to years even, Crocus told Blaz all was quite well with that and he would be sorely missed. But upon Blaz leaving Crocus office, Crocus took down a bottle of ancient brandy he had been storing for a special celebration, opened it and smiled to himself. Today was a good day for the Guild of the Universal order of Wizards, Witches and Warlocks.
Blaz rejoined his group and Togura, looking at the sun gradually crawling its way up the skyline, said it was a good time to begin their journey. As the carriage pulled out from the grounds of the guild hall, Blaz gave one last look behind him, one last longing look, and gritted himself for the adventures ahead.

* * *

As the carriage began its travels through the Cold West, heading out on to the Krozana highway headed for Chi Ash Lan, Blaz began sharing with the group tales from his childhood. He had been the third son of a businessman who had little time for magic. His elder two brother's had gone into the same clothing business as their father, but Blaz had always felt himself different somewhat, as if called for greater things than the dying of cloth which had been his regular work growing up. His father, Jon Durass, had said Blaz needed to settle and get over his fanciful notions of wizardry but, nonetheless, had supported Blaz's ambitions and paid for his 7 year degree course at the Guild of Wizards. Blaz exaggerated his learning abilities and outcomes of the course, giving his best attempt to show himself a wizard of great merit, and for a while his two fellow questers seemed suitably impressed. For a while anyway.
They arrived in Chi Ash Lan and decided to stay a few days to familiarise themselves with the current goings on in the political life of the cold west. Staying in an inn known as 'The Disgruntled Goat', the barmaid spent a number of afternoons answering Togura's questions of life in Chi Ash Lan, for she seemed well informed. Togura and the small group came to know that political tension in Chi Ash Lan were currently on knifes edge. The ruler of the Cold West, 'Bailiff Vok' was starting to be held in something of a disdain by not only the emerging political democratic movement, but with dissatisfaction by the usually loyal warriors of Rovac who for so long had supported him. But Bailiff was a survivor and so far had used his cunning to ward off all complaints. The main protagonists behind the call for democracy stated that a monarchy was never in the best interests of the people, aimed at serving the lusts of the king, and that for true economic prosperity to come forth for the Cold West they needed a Prime Ministership and Government of elected representatives, as was supposedly the main form of Government on the continent of Margenna, to best advance the hopes, dreams and aspirations of all the citizens of Chi Ash Lan and the Cold West. So much was the fervour amongst some factions that talk of revolution and a coup to remove the King was not that uncommon. Marni Bonniker, the barmaid who Togura had slowly been thinking of trying to bed, despite his promise to Day to stay true to his marriage commitment, said she had overheard many a conversation on the dissatisfaction towards the current monarch. It seemed they did live in intriguing times.
As they moved on from Chi Ash Lan, now travelling northwards, Togura kept his eyes alert for the spying of any flying Wyvvern's which, so Blaz assured him, should shortly be seen in this area of the world. 'There is an area known as Black Sparrow Forest were a community of wyverns is held to often congregate. I am sure we will find wyverns there.'
'And the controlling of them?' queried Togura.
'I have this vial of Wyvvern blood,' said Blaz, producing a small corked vial in front of them which he assured them was the blood of a particularly fierce Wyvvern he had once encountered. 'All I need do is drink the blood in the presence of a Wyvvern and the ability to control its mind should be available to me with the uttering of certain incantations.' That seemed to satisfy Togura and as they travelled northwards, and he yelled excitingly at spying what appeared to by wyverns flying in the distance, Blaz assured the group they were nearing their destination.
It was a week out from Chi Ash Lan that they had finally come to 'Black Sparrow Forest' and, Togura having spotted over a dozen Wyvvern's flying around from time to time, they parked their carriage and began a trek into the forest to locate any wyverns they should hopefully encounter.
'Just have that vial ready,' began Togura. 'We don't want to be caught unawares.'
As they travelled through the forest, eyes alert, Blaz shared with him his own adventures of his youth with his father and brothers of hunting in a forest near Krandor for deer and their encounters with wild wolves. Togura shared that Sung was pretty crappy for hunting, but had a small number of dangerous predators, which was perhaps something of an exaggeration for that tiny land.
A full day and a half into the thick forest they suddenly came into a clearing and there before them, just a number of yards away, sitting eating berries from a bush, a Wyvvern in all its glory, seemingly oblivious to them. 'Quick, get the vial,' Togura motioned to Blaz. The Wyvvern, hearing Togura speak, turned to look at them but all it seemed to do was continue eating the berries and ignore them, returning its attention to the berry bush.
'It doesn't seem very wild,' said Kalphor to Blaz. 'Are you sure these Wyvvern's are good at fighting?'
'They have all the strength of small dragons. Believe me they can be quite fierce, especially when provoked. But the Wyvvern is not worried about us, that is all. Why would it need fear mere men after all?'
'Aren't they carnivores,' queried Togura. 'Shouldn't it want to eat us?'
'Omnivores, I think,' responded Blaz. 'Besides its eating berries. Perhaps it is satisfied with them for its lunch.'
'Well, whatever. Now drink the blood and cast the spell. With this Wyvvern working for us we can travel to Argan and use it to protect us from the swarms and gather all the treasures we can possibly desire.'
'Yes, the blood,' said Blaz, somewhat disconcerted. Trying to look brave and very wizardly, muttering incantation, which really was abstract words from a backwaters Cold West disused tongue, Blaz swallowed some of the blood and started pointing his hands in the direction of the Wyvvern, doing his very best to remember how the spell from the magic tome he had spent a millennia studying actually worked in real world practice.
Now the Wyvvern in question, which had a very long name in its own particular Wyvverndom culture, but which he usually abbreviated himself to Vanderskar, was quite adroit in knowledge of the tongues of humans. He was quite an old Wyvvern now, had seen many adventures, but was starting to get on a bit and now, simply because it was so much easier than hunting wild game, with all the frustrations of catching it, killing it and going to the trouble of gorging out its best bits, was usually in the habit these days of feasting on the simple berries of the forest which grew in abundance, and had now developed quite a taste for them. And due to its knowledge of the human tongue and aided with its very good hearing, had overheard what the humans were speaking about and the intentions of the apparent wizard to try and cast an enchantment to enslave him to the wizards desires, something the Wyvvern knew all too well would not work anyway. But Vanderskar, suddenly with all his life flashing before his eyes, and all the adventures he had lives, also realizing he had never in fact travelled to Argan, and might want to see the splendour of that continent before his passing, looking at the frustrated wizard who was doing his very, very best to summon Vanderskar into his service with words such as 'I compel you' and 'You must obey', deciding now he may as well go off on one last adventure before his passing, decided to play along for the hell of it and, trying some Wyvvern humour, started pretending to shake as if he was suddenly possessed by an enchantment, gradually walked over to the wizard in most dramatic and drawn out steps, bowed to the wizard and said 'I am ready to do your service oh exalted master.' The wizard, suddenly coming to the conclusion that he must have somehow remembered how the spell worked, grinned to himself and his two companions now looked suitably impressed at the abilities of the wizard they had almost started to question.
Togura spoke up. 'Ask it for its name, if it speaks our tongue.'
The Wyvvern, in response to Togura's question, turned to Togura and said 'My name is Vanderskar, oh exalted master.' Togura looked suitably impressed with the response.
'Well, now we have the services of the Wyvvern,' said Kalphor. 'Should we seek out more? I do believe that Blaz has more of the blood still in the vial so perhaps another Wyvvern or to could come in useful.' Quickly Blaz thought on the ideal excuse.
'Unfortunately, the enchantment, now that it has been cast, will only work once for me powers in a very long while. It may well be months before I have the ability to summon another Wyvvern to service. If there had been two or more wyverns here present I would have been able to summon them at the same time, but alas there was only one. I am afraid we will have to make do with one.' He looked at them hopefully and nervously, trusting that his ruse would be believed.
'No worries, then,' said Togura. 'One in the end should be sufficient to deal with our worries. He looks like an impressive Wyvvern. I am sure he will be able to deal with any swarm creature we come up against.'
The Wyvvern, listening to the conversation, decided a brag at this point might just be appropriate and said 'I can defeat all your enemies, oh master,' and stood up, stretching its wings and displaying its might, at which Togura and the group looked very suitably impressed.
'Now what,' asked Kalphor.
'Now, to Argan, and our fortune,' said Togura. He turned to Blaz. 'Now, you are sure the Wyvvern will obey us from now on? I mean, how long will this enchantment work.'
'Oh, it should work until we release him from the spell,' replied Blaz, having no idea how long the spell would last at all, but lying as was his current practice about his abilities.
'Good, then we can use him for as long as we need him. Now let us get underway.'
As they moved off, Blaz signalling that the Wyvvern should follow along behind them, Togura dreamed of their return to Argan and the riches that would surely be his. Having a Wyvvern, and one who looked so impressive as the one they had found, in their services should surely be enough to defeat any of the wild swarms they would likely once again encounter.
As they travelled along through the forest, marching towards the carriage at the edge of the forest, Vanderskar gave his home one last longing look and carried on with what may well be his final grand and great adventure. Or if not that, certainly what appeared to be a most entertaining outing.


CHAPTER TWO

Togura sipped from the ale, looking out at the foaming waves having not long left the lesser teeth behind them. Day was on his mind, his beloved wife, and thoughts of her sweet breasts, her shapely thighs, and her delightful womanhood. He'd had a most embarrassing dream the night prior and, having needed to wash away his embarrassment with the basin in his ship room, he had laid awake the rest of the night, thinking on his beloved.
They had been married just a few short years, now. But they had been most delightful in their sexual intensity, something the longsuffering Togura was eternally grateful for. At first he had really wondered what all the fuss had been about. Sure, it was alright bedding a maiden, but masturbation seemed to suffice somewhat for that thrill which he had become accustomed to. But it soon dawned on him, through the simple thrill of continual practice, that the ways of womanhood had been coveted by men for so long simply because the female form, in truth, was something to be desired and behold. Caressing the form and figure of a fine woman, tasting her delicate nectar, being seated next to her at celebrations and just being around their joyful playful ways, well, Togura could now see what all the fuss was about.
Yet, of course, there was always the other more disdainable members of the opposite sex which perhaps drove a man to virginity, such as the most indelectable Slerma who could give a man nightmares at the thoughts of being trapped between her most demanding thighs. He shuddered at the though and praised the stars that woman was far from him at this very moment.
He looked over at the two wizards engaged in some game they labelled as popular amongst certain wizarding communities, 'Dragon Chess'. Togura was not one for strategy games, so took to his ale as the ship they had hired for a considerable sum continued its journey to the coast of Argan. The Wyvvern seemed content, lazing in the sun, seemingly oblivious to its company, munching on the meal of fruits they had provided for it. The ship they were aboard was titled the suitable name of 'The Confident' and Togura trusted that the captain had enough confidence in his crew to sail them to the treacherous shore of Argan and get away before being beset with the swarms.
The ship was a newly built ship, just a few years out of the docks so Captain Haggis maintained, well suited for this journey. Haggis sailed many of the seas of Olo Malan, plying his trade as both a passenger ship and deliverer of cargo between seaports. He seemed a very traditional sort of Captain, but the wooden leg, gained supposedly from a victorious encounter with a shark, which Togura suspected was probably from a fall or some similar accident, or perhaps a defect of youth, and the parrot which seemed to flock to his shoulder half of the day gave Togura the very strong impression that this particular captain may indeed have had adventures in his younger years not quite in line with his current profession. But, be that as it may, they were successfully crossing the ocean to Argan and should arrive within the next 24 hours according to the Captains estimations.
He stood against the railing of the ship thinking over there journeys through the Cold West, having been the subject of a spectacle with so many of the inhabitants staring at such an unusual group to have a Wyvvern in tow. Children with their families would stare at the beast, gasping and yelling that it was a monster. Of course, it was a monster, but so far on their journey it had proven tame enough, and Togura had been thankful that the Warlock's enchantment had held firm so far, worried that the potential of a Wyvvern going mad at having been held captive and rising up against its captors, tearing them limb from limb, could end his dreams of glory. But Blaz ensured him he'd had nothing to worry about, but Togura kept his eye on the beast from time to time to ensure that remained the case.
He drained his ale, gazed up at the sun and gulls following the ship and gave a last thought to Day before deciding to head down to his bunk and sleep the rest of the afternoon off. They would be in Argan soon enough so he may as well be well rested before resuming their treasure hunting activities.

* * *

The following day they arrived at Argan, in the mid afternoon and Captain Haggis, telling the group once again that they should have their heads examined, but conceding they had paid enough gold to have made the trip worthwhile for him and his crew, departed on 'The Confident' glad to be putting Argan and its Swarms far behind him. Coming onto the shore line Togura spoke to the Wyvvern. 'We are in Argan, now. So if any beasts threaten our group you must destroy them. Is that understood?'
'I live to do your will, oh master,' responded the old jaded Wyvvern, still amused by the humans commands.
Togura gathered the group, hid the bottle in a safe place under some rocks and they took shelter in the bottle. They agreed to wait until the following morning before beginning their quest again, in the meantimes discussing what should be their next objective. Togura, though he had not a great deal of knowledge of Argan, remembered from his days of youths stories of the 'Pinnacle of Platinoth', a great plateau on Argan, supposedly home to a fortress. Kalphor confirmed his knowledge of the location of the pinnacle and it was agreed that it would suffice as their next location for scouring for gold and silver.
That evening, as they sat around the fireplace in the upper sanctuary of the bottle, Blaz once again shared some of his tales from youth. As he talked the Wyvvern listened in and found much of Blaz's frustrations of his lack of success quite familiar to his own life story. Vanderskar had never been that much of a Wyvvern, really. He was looked down upon in his community as an underachiever, never really that successful in the hunting, and frowned upon when it came to his disastrous mating attempts. He could well understand, because of it, Blaz's frustrations at being rejected by so many, and started finding himself drawn to the Warlock and sympathetic with his course. Perhaps it was a true saying that birds of a feather flocked together, and Vanderskar began to feel more at home with this incompetent Warlock then he ever had with his own Wyvvern community.

* * *

The flight to the Pinnacle was calm and uneventful, Togura, Blaz and the Wyvvern secure in the comforts of the bottle as Kalphor, again in the form of an eagle, made his way towards the Pinnacle. It took them a number of days of flying, but arriving at the Pinnacle and landing, the group emerged from the Bottle and surveyed the vegetation encrusted old stone pyramid like structure before them. It appeared uninhabited, but of course they could never know for sure. Togura had brought out torches from the bottle and they lit them, getting ready to dare the temple. Yet, before this could occur, the flames seemed to attract the attention of a lesser of the swarm creatures, which came out of the forest and lurched towards the group, growling at them. Togura thought quickly. He motioned to the Wyvvern to attack the beast and he drew his sword, the two wizards coming to stand behind him. The Wyvvern, though, seemed unbothered by the beast and simply stood between the group and the snarling creature. The creature came forward and lunged at the Wyvvern, who simply stepped out of the way, seemingly unworried about the attack. The beast attacked again and this time managed to make a scratch on the Wyvvern's wing which, this time, stirred the Wyvvern into action. The Wyvvern stood up on its hinds legs, hissed at the creature, and lunged forward with its beak and claws, latching onto the neck of the beast.
The struggle was ferocious and the beast attacked with its claws the head of the Wyvvern, which continued to strengthen its grip on the beast's neck. Togura, bravely, came in and hacked at the caught beast and after minutes of hacking and blood dripping from the beasts neck, it seemed to finally breathe its last breaths and go limp. The Wyvvern bit into it then and, snapping off the beasts head, it was deemed by all as well and truly dead. And then the stench began.
This particular Swarm creature had plasma in its blood which reacted very negatively to too much exposed oxygen and it started rotting the creatures blood very quickly which let off a vile smell. Togura held his nose and, thinking fire his best friend at the moment, tossed nearby browned deadwood onto the body of the beast, making a fire and burning it up. After half an hour the body had largely been consumed and the stench had dissipated.
'I have never seen a Wyvvern fight before,' began Togura, 'but they seem quite ferocious when provoked.'
'In the West,' responded Blaz, 'The Wyvvern used to be worshipped as a god in the old days and they are still held in very much respect by the community. They rarely, for reasons we know not, attack humankind and we have lived side by side for many a year. But we are not foolish enough to think we can tame such ferocity as you yourself have observed.'
'Obviously not,' responded the awestruck Togura. 'Well, Kalphor, it seems you were wise indeed to seek out Blaz, for this Wyvvern, I feel, will prove undoubtable help in our objectives. For it to have dispatched the beast with such strength means we can have all the gold of Argan if we are patient enough to search it out.'
'It is as you say, but still we must have our wits about us,' responded Kalphor.
'Naturally,' finished Togura. He turned to the Temple and, once again, torches at the ready, signalled to the group that they should enter in to search for any treasures the Platinoth held.
Torches burning brightly they entered the Temple of Platinoth. The temple itself was quite a large complex of interlocking stone buildings, all formed together in a shape which looked like a large pyramid from the distance. It was quite a large temple and, having entered it from the southern side, they were unaware that on the northern side of the temple buildings a ruthless warlord and his growing community took residence. Yet they knew this soon enough for about 10 minutes into their journeys into the labyrinthine temple structure they suddenly found themselves surrounded by a host of soldiers who told them to come with them. Togura said to Kalphor 'Let's go peacefully. Tell the Wyvvern to do nothing,' but the Wyvvern seemed quite content to simply follow the soldiers anyway.
Following a winding trail between buildings they came into a courtyard on the northern side of the temple were a community was living its life, animals tethered close by in fenced paddocks and the humdrum of a small village at work. A guard dismissed all but 3 of the soldiers and signalled for Togura and his group to follow him inside a nearby building. Coming into the building it was elaborately decorated and seemed to serve as some sort of temple for worship, perhaps of Platinoth or some other great creature. They came to a large throne and seated on the throne, gorging on a plate of meat and vegetables, a mug of wine on the side of the throne, sat a man, likely in his early 50s, with a trimmed beard, an eye-patch covering one eye, and a long scar down his left cheek. He continued eating his meal but, as Togura and his crew entered, looked up at them, munching away. The soldier spoke up. 'We found them, on the southern edge of the grounds. There is also a small dragon with them just outside, but it has caused no real problems. I don't know why they are here, so we brought them to you.'
The man, who was quite likely the leader of the community in Togura's estimation, eyed them for a while, continuing to chew on his meat and drink from his wine mug. Eventually, finishing off and burping, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he stood, came close to them and looked them over, and, returning to his seat, stared at them. He finally spoke. 'So what is your business in Platinoth then? Have you heard of our community and come to join us? If so I can perhaps offer you a good position in our fighting forces.'
Togura thought quickly. 'Uh, no. We are but lost travellers, on our way northwards to Tameran. Our ship went astray and crashed on the eastern coast of Argan, and we have been battling the Swarms carefully making our way northwards. We beg your hospitality as we continue our fine adventure.'
The man considered that, picking up a bone from his plate and chewing at it, taking another sip of wine. Eventually he spoke again. 'Well, we can certainly use a few good hands with the animals for a while. That is, if you are prepared to work for your keep.'
'That won't be a problem,' said Kalphor. 'We will be glad to work for our food. And perhaps you could be so kind to share with us your knowledge of the terrain northwards of here. It would be invaluable for our travels.'
The man looked at them, nodded, and waved them away. The soldier who had brought them to him signalled for them to follow him and they exited the building and were taken not far away to some animal skins on some hay which was stored at the side of a large building which, fortunately, had a covering extending over them so, should it rain, they would not get wet. 'You can sleep here,' began the soldier. 'General Ashdyne will likely want to see you in the morning and here of your story, but we will feed you and you are welcome to share our food. It is good in these troubled lands to have all the extra men we can get.'
'I am sure it is,' responded Togura. The soldier nodded at them, and departed and the group slumped down onto their makeshift beds. They Wyvvern, who young children had been staring at, made its way towards them, and sat nearby under the shelter, settling down to go to sleep. They were unlikely, now, to find any treasure here, but Togura suggested to the group that they not try to escape for the meantimes anyway, as the community did not seem to pose them any threat, and they could learn what they could of them for now. 'We will wait it out to start with,' said Togura. 'See what they are all about and why they are living here in Argan. It could prove useful information one day, so far now we sit tight.' Blaz and Kalphor nodded and Blaz, looking to see that nobody was looking, quickly entered the bottle and returned with the Dragon Chess set and he and Kalphor began another of their games. Togura looked at the Dragon, stared out at the sky which had quickly turned grey and was looking to rain, gave thought to his beloved Day, and settled down on his bedding, pulled a moth ridden blanket over him, and searched for whatever sleep he could find. Soon enough they would be back to their treasure-hunting, but for now they were stuck with General Ashdyne and his desperate community.

* * *

The following morning they spoke again with General Ashdyne and gave him greater information. Togura saw no actual harm in using their real names with a semblance of a story based on real life, but altered to protect their interests. Kalphor and Blaz were introduced as a Wizard and a Warlock respectively, which made the General raise an eyebrow. Togura was a master-fighter, who had travelled the world, hailing originally from Sung of the Lesser Teeth. And the Wyvvern was under the power of Blaz, which was supposedly true anyway, supposedly, and posited no threat to the General's community. Having taken in all that information the General shared with them his own tale. 'I am from Tameran were you seek to travel to. I served in the Khmar's army and was an honoured general, until I was betrayed, betrayed with a kiss from my wife, who slept with another general. They desired my death and so, framing me for a murder I did not commit, I escaped with a band of loyal men who knew my innocence, and now reside her, in Argan. We live here on the Pinnacle of Platinoth for rarely do the Swarms bother to climb this high onto the plateau, and we are hardly ever bothered. For now we live here, with the soldiers families who ventured along with us, but not forever. We will add to our numbers, slowly and carefully, peradventure with men such as yourselves, and with the memory of my name living on in Tameran as a soldier of bravery and merit, I hope to one day return and regain my name. And if not, the Khmar be damned and I will raise up an army to throw him off his precious throne.' Those last words were said with something of passionate vengeful tone, and Togura did not doubt the seriousness of the General's intent. The general inquired then, should they perhaps be willing to join his community and put off their travels to Tameran to a later date, when his soldiers and entourage could accompany them. But Togura declined, declaring they would stay with them a week or so before continuing on their adventure. The general then offered them much money and rewards in Tameran, yet Togura continued to decline saying they had family waiting for them in Tameran and could simply not delay for too long. The general, realizing that taking them hostage for their services would be more trouble than it was worth, conceded and wished them well while they stayed on with the community. Thus, returning to their sleeping abode near the wall under the covering, Togura opened a bottle of cold wine the General had graciously given him, started drinking it, and thought on what they were to do next.
For two weeks they stayed in the community, Togura delaying their plans of leaving simply because, after all his long travels, he felt he needed a sense of stability for a while, and the friendly enough community of soldiers and wives seemed to offer him that much. Days were spent drinking wine, looking after the animals and gathering fruits and vegetables from the cleared fields north of the temple, and slowly learning Dragon chess, a game which Blaz and Kalphor had been playing avidly ever since arriving in Argan. There was a maiden of 16 who gave Togura many lustful looks, and one afternoon she found him alone in the fields, came up and kissed him, and offered herself to him. He honestly felt that adultery should really not be hoohaahed so much because, really, the young female was quite ravishing to look at, and when she lifted her skirt to show him her vagina, he almost denied his vows to Day. But, no, he didn't sleep with her in the end, and he was satisfied with a few hours of heavy snogging before returning to the camp.
Finally, after coming into the second week, Togura felt the group had rested enough and, late one night signalled for them all to enter the bottle while he, firstly, search for some gold so their voyage to the plateau not necessarily go unrewarded and then, secondly, make his escape from the community.
It was dark, and he had entered the main building were the General set up residence. The community were used to them as guests now and seemed not to suspect them, which was perhaps a good thing. Coming to the doorway behind the throne, he turned the latch and entered the room, having grabbed a burning torch from the entranceway of the building. The room appeared mostly empty but, coming over to a table with a large chest on it, he opened the chest to find what they had been seeking - an ample supply of gold Tameran coinage, a suitable reward for their efforts. He filled his sack with gold, quickly returned to the bottle to dump the treasure and told the other two he would now sneak out from the camp to a distance away before they could fly off.
Togura was nervous, crawling his way carefully out of the camp, a tinge of guilt on his conscience. Although he knew, in a way, they had been stealing the whole time they had been ransacking Argan, it had always been money which had been abandoned and was going to no useful purpose. But this, stealing from the general who had befriended him, well he was not quite as comfortable with the idea as he was telling himself he should be.
As he clambered through the scrub, he suddenly heard some shouting and saw torches coming towards him. He hid in some scrub and waited as soldiers were all about the area, searching for their missing guests. He had hoped he would be safe but, suddenly, a soldier dared the thicket he was hiding in and, finding Togura, yelled to the others. Soon he was dragged back to the camp and the General, looking at him, with a most disappointing look on his face said 'Togura. Your friends may have gotten away, but your punishment will be swift and sure. Take him away.' They led him off to another building and locked him inside, soldiers stationed at the doorway to guard him.
In the morning a crowd gathered and the general pronounced his judgement. 'You will be executed Togura, decapitated as suits your crime. And should we find your companions they will suffer the same fate.' The community murmured that justice needed to be done and looking at the angry faces Togura suddenly knew just why he had felt so much guilt. But he was a survivor, and would not let a death penalty do him in so, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the bottle, he summoned the others with the Wyvvern, and a hectic fight began. Fortunately the Wyvvern was too much of a match for the community of soldiers and as they carefully retreated, coming to the edge of the temple, Kalphor suddenly turned into the form of the Eagle, grabbed the bottle were the other three escaped to, and took off.
10 minutes later, having put the pinnacle of Platinoth far behind him, Kalphor landed, resumed his human form, and entered the bottle.
For a few days they stayed in the bottle, feeding on the foodstuffs they had purchased in Chi Ash Lan, while they discussed were they would travel next. 'I know of a place,' began Kalphor, 'Not that far to the west of here. In the city of Riknaah, which surely has many treasures anyway. But there was a particular place in the city, known as the Rainbow Parade, were a host of wealthy warlords resided. It could be the best next place to search for hidden treasures.'
'Then to the Rainbow Parade we travel next,' said Togura.

* * *

The fowl creatures of the Swarms, being sent into Argan by the Skull of the South, are unpredictably mad at the best of times, and one particular ogreish looking beast, having found a cute little green bottle, of all things to do with it, decided to shove it up its nose. When the questing group of heroes decided to exit the bottle, ready to resume their journey, they exploded onto the scene being instantly covered with the bloody remains of a wild swarm creature, which had duly exploded upon their exiting the bottle. The mess was indeed quite significant, and Togura spent much of the morning washing himself again and again trying to remove a stench which stubbornly, it seemed, refused to dissipate. Kalphor had a grin on his face because Togura had copped the worst of the bloody mess, but everytime he looked at Togura and smiled, Togura looked at him with daggers in his eyes.
Eventually, ready to continue on their journey, they boarded again the bottle as the Eagle began its flight to Riknaah. Kalphor, as wizards of great age were wont to do, had spent many years learning the geography of various places and locations on the world of Olo Malan and was, fortunately, well equipped with information on the various places of Argan in which they were likely to find the wealth they desired. So far on their journeys they'd had a number of sticky encounters, but for now it seemed worth their troubles to continue and all the time he knew they were getting wealthier and wealthier.
As he flew along, his eyes scanning the horizon before him, he thought on another wizard who he had frequented the company of from time to time with the power of flight, a certain Hostaja Torsen Sken-Pitilkin, and wondered to himself were Hostaja was at this time. They had been friends for a long time and in his years in the Confederation of Wizards at Drangsturm, Hostaja had shared many a drink of ale with him as they discussed the affairs of Wizardom and the future of their world. His cousin, Phyphor, who was now apparently dead, had been a source also of solace for the orphaned Kalphor, looking up to his cousin who had raised him in his younger years and seen to it that he had become a wizard. He missed Phyphor, who had raised him in the family cult of the Watermelon with their peculiar beliefs on religion, and often thought of visiting their small remaining family on Ashmolea. That was were the cult of the Watermelon was strongest and were figures from Kalphor's youth still likely lived and remained. It was the Watermelon cult which had taught him his values since a young age, with their peculiar devotion to that particular fruit, and his regular attendance at the grand Watermelon Temple on Ashmolea, a large temple in the shape of a Watermelon and painted to resemble one. From a distance it was something to behold and often the butt of many of the unbelievers' jokes, but Kalphor was proud of his heritage, and the ways of healthy living he had learned from the cult of his upbringing.
Of Course, no cult could truly exist without an adversary to oppose it, and the hated Watchtower of northern Ashmolea, ones full of ex-members of the Watermelon sect, who proclaimed that in the future there would be a grand day when 'The Grand Guardian Watermelon' would descend from the stars and lead them in the ways everlasting. The traditional Watermelon sect naturally refuted such notions stating they simply worshipped watermelons, mainly because they were bloody tasty and good for the health and every society needed an idol of focus to function properly, yet after centuries of advertising and promoting the beliefs of the cult, it really had gone to the head of certain members and ideas of 'The Grand Guardian Watermelon' who watched over its faithful devotees had emerged in the cult and, eventually, realizing the lukewarmness of so many of their own, the righteous separated off and formed 'The Watchtower' whose main purpose was to prepare the world, through their dedication to the 'Grand Commission' for the coming of the Grand Guardian Watermelon. Of course, in recent years there was even talk that the Grand Guardian Watermelon had already advented early on, and he was now preparing the world for his grand and glorious second coming, but this was a belief disputed by many devotees of the historical method of factuality.
Funnily enough, Kalphor still enjoyed watermelons, and whenever he was at a market or store which sold the product, he would lovingly walk over to the stall, pat the trustworthy watermelons, and purchase 2 or 3 of them and munch on them for days.
As he flew along observing the environment, he sensed that Riknaah was quickly approaching. Half an hour later, having spied the city on the horizon, he started slowly descending from his great height. 20 minutes later he had landed, hid the bottle in a suitable place, and entered to inform the others they had arrived.
Instantly Togura was aware that Riknaah had a significant number of Swarms scrawling around it. As they entered the city in search of the 'Rainbow Parade' a fowl looking beast suddenly lunged out of a building attacking them. The Wyvvern quickly sprang to their defence, but the fighting this time was much fiercer. Togura brandished a sword and attacked many times, but a wildly flung talon of the beast ripped out and caught the exposed part of Togura's arm, cutting deeply. He yelled in agony, and with the fury of his uninjured sword arm went berserk and knowing no fear rushed in and plunged his sword straight into the head of the creature. It slumped into the dust, the familiar swarm stench quickly coming forth and its body shuddered for a number of minutes as it went through its death throes. This time they did not linger for too long and placed the bottle inside a safe building to enter in so they could tend Togura's cut.
Blaz, who had become their medical doctor of sorts, carefully wound some bandages around the wound and Togura, thinking over the Warlock, whose magic skills so far on their quest had left something to be desired, found his competency in winding bandages quite the opposite - he seemed to have the natural care of a medicine man and seemed quite competent at the task. Also his manner of showing genuine care left Togura thinking Blaz had missed his calling in life.
Saying he was fine to continue they emerged from the bottle and resumed their search, more cautiously alert for the swarm creatures.
An hour later, after cautiously looking out for the swarms, they had found the Rainbow Parade and after raiding several of the grand looking domains, had accumulated a reasonable amount of treasure and useful looking items.
Coming into an unusual looking building, quite distinct from the others, Togura and the group searched through the place, Togura being the first to find the stairway into a basement. The basement looked different from other places they had seen so far in Riknaah. It was designed with strange looking stone furniture and against the wall was a grid with knobs on it, which appeared movable, underneath the grid being a stone doorway which was presently closed and seemed unopenable. He yelled to the others to come down and look at what he had found.
'It is an ancient culture,' said Kalphor. 'Part of the old word, in the days of wrath or earlier. When Olo Malan was younger and society was different. It has survived since then.'
'I reckon those knobs move in some way to access the doorway.'
'And what lies beyond?' queried Blaz.
'Could be anything,' responded Togura. 'But we'll never know if we don't try and open the thing. I am going to try the knobs. Perhaps there is a pattern or a code which needs to be utilized to open the door. It is worth a try anyway - who knows what we will find.'
Kalphor, looking at the 8 knobs, realized Togura could well be occupied for some time, announced he and Blaz would retire to the bottle for the time being and play some Dragon Chess. The Wyvvern, however, indicated that it would stay with Togura and watch over him, which was not objectionable to Togura.
For three solid days Togura puzzled on the grid and the knobs. He had tried many different patterns which was his first idea to unlock the grid and then come to the conclusion that a nearly endless parade of combinations could be made, which could take him forever and he didn't have that long. And then he noticed something which he really should have seen to start with. On the floor of the basement, not strikingly noticeable to begin with, but observable after a while of observation, was a very faint replica of the grid, and patterns showing the knobs were arranged on the grid on the floor. He quickly got the others from the bottle announcing that he had most probably found the solution to the grid.
As Blaz, Kalphor and the Wyvvern watched on, Togura took a little while putting the knobs into place and suddenly, as the last knob found its home, the stone door started making a whining noise and opened up. 'Success!' yelled Togura, so happy after all his earlier attempts had failed. But suddenly success was turned to fight as a grey mist emerged from the opening and settled on the ground. Suddenly the dirt on the floor started forming skeletons who stood up and began lunging towards the group. It wasn't much of a fight in the end - the skeletons were kind of pathetic - and while they reanimated for a little while, eventually the mist seemed to have run out of its power and the skeletons stopped emerging.
'Get the torches,' Togura said to Blaz, who entered the bottle and shortly returned with 4 torches which Togura soon had alight.
The labyrinthine network of an old Nexus depository is generally something to behold for citizens of a vastly different culture another period, and Togura puzzled over the rooms filled with mechanical objects which seemed to serve no purpose and the endless supplies of little metal objects which Kalphor suggested were used to maintain whatever it had been.
Yet, while they searched valiantly for anything that might remotely prove valuable, they found nothing that they generally considered of worth and eventually gave up. But before they exited the network, Togura had managed to do something of impressive stupidity, by activating a panel on a control board which alerted a certain security device for the network. A security device which was soon to cause them quite a deal of trouble.
The following night, exploring more of the houses in the Rainbow Parade, Kalphor remarked that a strange metallic noise seemed to be emanating from the building of the labyrinth. They turned back along the street to investigate and suddenly, emerging from the building, a metallic beast in the form of a large metal dog, came towards them, suddenly blazing a red beam of fire from its eyes at them. Togura yelped, the group retreated. This particular robot was linked to the 'Dorgi' design from the Golden Gulag, a smaller version of a Dorgi simply known as a 'Corgi'. It had been created for the purpose of acting as a watchdog over the labyrinth depository, and as it continued to pursue its prey, always aware were they were running off to, Togura in his frustration suggested they trap the object in the bottle and then work out what to do with it later.
The two wizards and Togura, each coming at the dog from separate angles, rushed it and Blaz was the victim of a scorch mark on his shoulder. Togura managed to get to the dog without it turning on him and soon sent it disappearing into the bottle.
'Now what?' asked Blaz. 'We can hardly retreat to the bottle anymore with that thing in there? We need to find a way of destroying it.'
'I know,' responded Togura, who suggested they return to the building of the labyrinth in the time being to hide from any swarms that may come their way.
Sitting in the basement, staring at the opening to the labyrinth, Blaz had a suggestion to Togura. 'Why don't we search through the labyrinth again. We might find something useful to use against the beast, or find some way of destroying it. Togura shrugged - it was as good an idea as any he had.
They searched through the labyrinth for hours, this time Togura paying more careful attention to the various metallic devices they found, picking things up and pushing various buttons and levers.
He was down on a lower level of the labyrinth, Blaz further down the corridor, when he opened a wooden box of a series of 4 boxes, finding a strange looking object, which Togura surmised might be a weapon of sorts. He picked up what in fact was a heavy duty laser bolt rifle and messing around with it, found the on switch. Suddenly it started humming and Togura yelled for Blaz to come and see.
Staring at it Togura mentioned to Blaz that he felt it might be a weapon. 'Then be careful with it Toggie. You don't want to injure yourself again.'
'I'll be careful. I wonder what this lever does,' he said, picking at the trigger. Suddenly a laser bolt blasted from the rifle, blasting a hole in the stone wall. 'Fucking hell!' yelled Togura. 'This should be perfect. Grab one, Blaz, and we will go and get Kalphor. These should be perfect for fighting the beast.'
After they had tested the four weapons they found that only two of them came alive and it was decided Togura and Blaz would fight the creature. Crossing there fingers they used the pendant and entered the bottle. They found the beast in the second room of the bottle and as soon as it spotted them it set off another blast, just missing Togura's ear. 'Now!' he yelled to Blaz and, aiming their weapons, they concentrated on firing at the beasts head, rewarded with moments later melting metal and the beast making chaotic noises. Eventually it stopped moving and they surmised it was in its death throws, whatever it was.
'Ha, take that beast from hell,' yelled Togura, happy with his fighting abilities.
'I think we should get rid of it. Put it back in the labyrinth and close it up. We don't want to risk it coming alive again.' Togura nodded and using the pendant to return to Kalphor, they boasted of their victory and hauled the beast back into the labyrinth, moving the knobs again which resulted in the doorway closing up.
'If I never see one of those things again it will be too soon,' muttered Togura. 'Anyway, these weapons should come in useful for all sorts of things.' But, in an ironic twist of fate the weapon Togura was holding started dimming and soon went off. No matter what button Togura pressed, it didn't seem to work anymore. Half an hour later the same thing happened to Blaz's weapon. 'We'll keep them anyway. Some day we may find a way how to make them work again.'
'What next?' queried Kalphor. 'Shall we finish off exploring the Rainbow Parade?'
Togura nodded.
For the next day and a half they gradually explored the remainder of the houses of the Rainbow Parade and then some of the more expensive looking abodes of Riknaah. They accumulated a fair degree of treasure in their scourings and a happy buzz was on Togura's face as he realized he was getting richer and richer all the time. There was another encounter with a wild swarm creature, and the Wyvvern fought valiantly, Kalphor employing a fireball spell when he had finally felt strong enough in his magical ability to use. He had been drained in his strength flying around as an eagle, but that had been deemed the safest way to get around Argan. The same familiar stench emanated from the dead beast, and they left the scene as soon as possible.
Sitting around a fireplace in a building they had decided to spend the night in, Blaz shared more of his life story. He talked of working for the Guild of Wizards since his re-emergence from the bottle and the court case he had been involved in to ensure his re-entry into the guild. They had been reluctant, but the case was clear that they had no right to ban him, thus Crocus Dalbana had reluctantly readmitted him into the guild, albeit into a scungy laboratory in the basement of the guild hall. But it suited Blaz fine and, while they never sent much work his way, he felt proud of himself in finally achieving his ambition of being a fully fledged Wizard working for the Guild of the Universal Order of Wizards, Witches and Warlocks.
The Wyvvern, who for so long had said very little, although the group knew it could communicate with them, began to share unexpectedly something of its own life. It was quite an old Wyvvern now, several hundred years in fact, and it felt itself not long for this world. While it stated that because of the spell it was compelled to visit Argan with them, it spoke in a manner which suggested it didn't really mind anyway. As if this was the last grand adventure of its life and it wanted to go out with a bang.
Togura listened with great interest as the Wyvvern spoke of Wyvverndom's attitude to mankind. They were often viewed as pesky creatures, the humans, but never deemed too much of a threat. They generally left Wyvvern-kind alone and had not tried to hunt them down to much, unlike the common acts of bravery committed by valiant heroes in their boasting tales of dragon slaying epics. But that was typical for the dragons, their distant cousins, who had particular fetishes for virginal princesses and the like.
Dragon's, of course, were far better fighters than Wyvverns, but the Wyvverns were quite nimble and could be quite deadly if provoked. Wyvverns were usually around half to a third of the size of Dragon's, but it was believed in Wyvverndom that they originated from the same stock in the beginning, the Wyvverns being the result of midget dragons separating from the community and forming their own family. This was considered true as Wyvverns, occasionally now and then, sired particularly large Wyvverns who had a striking resemblance to Dragon's, and often went off to find and mate with the larger creatures. But that was all just a matter of speculation amongst Vanderskar's kind. And then, feeling he could trust this small group somewhat, the Wyvvern spent a full minute speaking its official birth name, which was quite lengthy indeed.
Finally, as they got ready to bed for the night, Togura declared that they were finished with Riknaah, and that in the morning they would decide upon their next target. As he slept Togura dreamed of Wyvverns and Dragons and, suddenly, turning into a Wyvvern, he found himself flying through the skies, turning and dashing in majestic movements, overcome with the joys of being a flying beast, daring the heights of heaven, a dazzling splendour to all who could possibly observe the majestic glory of Togura the Wyvvern. And then, in his dream, he suddenly found himself turned into a slug and he laughed to himself at the not so subtle irony.


CHAPTER THREE

Jaglag Daroko was nothing if not a hospitable captor. A renegade warlord from Yestron who had travelled to Argan with an ambitious plan - to see if he could use various magical items he had come across to enslave the swarms to utilise them in his ambitions of conquest back in Yestron. But, while Togura, Kalphor, Blaz and the Wyvvern were technically prisoners of sorts for the initial few days, Jaglag seemed to relax after a while and allowed them free access to his compound. Daroko was travelling with around 1000 troops and another 1000 servants, armed with the services of a quite expensive wizard by the name of Dalaka. Dalaka was currently attempting to use the magical devices Daroko had acquired to tame and use the swarms for his wargames purposes, but so far to no success. He was apparently, while quite expensive, not that competent a wizard as many of Daroko's soldiers maintained.

Both Blaz and Kalphor were offered large sums if they could work out how the magical devices worked from Daroko's basic knowledge of them. But after a week of solid tinkering both confessed they had not the foggiest idea.

Daroko, while not overly concerned about the wizard's lack of success, seemed to have taken a liking to Togura, thinking him somewhat of a warrior, and had been wooing him to join his army.
'I can offer you good pay, Poulaan. Good pay. Civil war is never to far from the average life of a citizen of Yestron, and pay is often quite good. You seem a strong warrior - your confidence with that sword I see you practice with suggests to me you have seen many a battle in your lifetime.'
Togura tried to stay humble, which was not easy as he liked to brag. 'It is true, I am a swordsman. I once tackled a certain Guest Gulkan in a friendly duel and he bested me, but he said my abilities and natural talent were of a high quality. But I am a questing of my own desires in Argan with my wizard friend. Yestron is so far away and back in Sung my wife awaits my return. I could not leave her to go off a questing to Yestron.'
'I understand,' said Daroko, disappointed. 'I could offer you a high position. My third in command, if you were willing?'
'I thank you for the offer, Lord Daroko. But I must refuse.'
'Very well. To your honour and your wife,' he said, lifting a mug of ale, drinking it down quickly and belching shortly after.

The soldiers of the compound, Togura observed, were highly trained and seemed almost a crack mercenary unit in reality. Perhaps they'd had years of warfare in Yestron and were the best of the best.

Eventually Blaz and Kalphor admitted that they were no closer in finding out how to use the magical devices and, while they were somewhat dismayed at not achieving the reward promised, Daroko gave each of them a barrel of ale for their services, which they duly stored in the bottle.

When they bid Daroko farewell he stated he hoped to meet them again, and Togura felt the slightest tinge of regret, wondering how well he could have fared on Yestron in such a position of glory. Certainly one to return to Sung one day and boast of his heroic accomplishments.

For a few days later Togura simply waited it out in the bottle as the wizards drunk themselves into a stupor on the ale, but eventually they were ready to resume their questing for treasure.
'There is a village nearby,' said Kalphor, still quite hungover from the night before's drinking. 'We could search it out.'
'Aye,' agreed Togura.

* * * * *

Zen Durander, despite his reputation growing up as an incompetent fool, the butt of many of his school fellows savage taunts such as 'Cast a spell for us, big ears', as he had quite large ears, and 'Why don't you turn yourself into a frog - at least then you would be with your own kind,' and many other familiar torments from the popular brats of the community of his childhood, were his father was oft employed as the local wizard for various, usually, and unfortunately not as the ambitious Zen Durander would have liked him to have been, involved not in great magical feats of daring and wonder, but rather in the mundane matters of acting often as a magical plumber dealing with clogged drains, or finding lost things or other simple boring tasks, hardly fit for the vain imaginations of young Zen, really was quite a fearsome wizard as he had developed into in life, finding a particular flair for the tasks of high wizardry as he grew in lore and knowledge and wisdom. Yet, as it was wont for many and various wizards to do in the world of Olo Malan, were the rewards for lawlessness, renegadery, bastardry, deviancy and trouble-making in general were, to the chagrin of many, such as the sect of the Watermelon and their northern counterparts, the Watchtower, quite in fact profitable and good for the upkeep of the family, and funnily enough even its reputation amongst mad power seeking nobles, bent on conquest, he had not dedicated his life to the higher virtues of wizardry, the like of taking a place in an esteemed wizardry educational facility, or sitting on the board of a well named city council in its magical affairs department, or some other esteemed calling, but instead turned to the dark side, as it was often called, and sought out adventure, power, corruption, a number of the more politically acceptable forms of evil, and the like, in the first instance for the purposes of making a living and affording the grand and luxuriant lifestyles he had grown accustomed to but, also, which engendered the occasional wicked grin from him as he thought on the fates of his adversaries, for the sheer pleasure of being a son of a goat, a worker of the fowl, and dark wizarding master supreme. Just for the sheer hell of it in other words.

Now Zen, in his long life of adventure and mischief, had, from time to time, come into the employ of a certain Jaglag Daroko, who had often employed him for his well known and quite infamous capabilities, the ministrations of such being a common desire for the purposes of Jaglag, a typical employer for the mighty Zen. They had become something of a friendly acquaintanceship to each other, one relying on the other for competent wizarding abilities, the other finding useful employment for the purposes of feeding his belly.

And Jaglag, entertaining Zen one fine day in his luxurious palatial Yestronian abode, had suggested the idea of the Argan swarms as likely useful beasts of war, could they be properly trained and harnessed for such purposes for the neverending popular civil wars of Yestron. Zen had scoffed at the idea initially, yet later that day, looking through a particular advanced Yestron wizarding schools just released catalogue of certain ancient world, apparently magical, devices which, could the workings of such be properly figured, perchance be of great and unusually beneficial advantage to the everyday working life of your typical, everyday, magic user, bit the bullet, consulted with Jaglag the following morning, and lashed out the lavish sums required for the obtaining of what looked like the most promising and useful said magical devices.

Yestron courier services can often be quite good, and often quite bad, and despite the long delay in the arrival of his order, they showed eventually and, unwrapping the boxes like a young and eager child on its birthday, Jaglag looked at the instruments and said 'How the Hell do those things work?' And such was the mystery that had remained till this day.

Never the less, engaging his mercenary army, with Zen in tow through a valuable promised wage, Jaglag had risked Argan anyway, and they had arrived, found a homebase in a certain empty village, and for a while Jaglag looked into the affairs of Zen on a daily basis to ascertain just how far along he was coming with his investigations. Alack and alas, no success, which led to the eventual firing of a long term acquaintance, with the task of solving the riddle of the devices given to the wizarding second in command, a certain Dalaka, who Zen himself thought the competency of a slug - on a good day.

Zen had retreated away from Jaglag, finding no more service available, but had found various locations nearby in the continent, were the Swarms did not seem to frequent greatly, and remained, sure and certain he would eventually find re-employment with Jaglag once Dalaka's definite incompetency had been quite and truly well found out.

And thus he resided in an old abandoned village, up the top of a tower overlooking the village, were he maintained his days in study of various magical tomes he had brought along with him on his trip from Yestron, occasionally travelling down to the village grounds to cast a spell on a chicken for the purposes of maintaining his regular diet of food in general. And while this particular village he had called home for the last few years, he had sought out much of the local region for the purposes of exploring finding many strange enigma and fascination to entertain his otherwise current solitary existence.

It was on one particular fine and sunny afternoon, digesting his lunch of wild boar and cabbage, that he was looking out over the village, and spied 3 forlorn adventurers wandering in, in the company of a huge beast which appeared to be a miniature dragon. What was going on here?

'Halt! State your business in this village, or be prepared to be turned into slugs!'
Togura and Kalphor and Blaz gazed upon the figure dressed in red who had suddenly emerged onto the streets, the Wyvvern though giving him scant attention.
'He is just one guy,' Togura said to Kalphor. 'I don't think he is a threat. Try a freeze spell or something on him.'
Kalphor nodded, raised his hands, and was about to cast a spell when, instantly, a huge ball of fire came forth from the hands of the man, scorched the ground in front of them, and they jumped back in dismay.
'Perhaps another tactic,' said Togura, instantly taking out his sword. 'Split up. Don't let him corner us all together.'

As the action became more tense, Togura circled around to the right and Kalphor to the left, leaving Blaz Durass and the Wyvvern standing there, looking terribly their incompetent selves, not quite sure what to do.

Zen gazed at Togura, assessed he was a warrior of sorts with little or no magical abilities, so turned his attention to Blaz, who perhaps was a wizard such as himself.

Togura tried a tactic. 'We mean you no harm. We are adventurers from another continent. We only seek rest here for some time.'
A fireball in front of him, which he nimbly dodged, was his instant reply.

Kalphor spoke up. 'Perhaps we could just stay a night or two. We won't bother you, really. We won't be any harm whatsoever.'
Kalphor too dodged the emerging fireball.

Life is ironic, and while it was certainly true that the one deemed the most incompetent in our little group of questing heroes was currently standing there, not really knowing what else to do, it was the venerable Blaz Durass who seemed to come up with the only reasonable idea to assuage the wrath of their current wizarding opponent. 'We can pay you!' he exclaimed, which brought an instant end to the hostilities, a big smile from the wizard dressed in red, and hand waving signals to indicate that they come forth to make themselves known.

Later on, upstairs in the wizard's tower, eating the remains of a meal of wild boar and cabbage, drinking some water from a large jug, the wizard was asking all sorts of questions of his guests.
'So Jaglag showed you his magical devices. Really, they should be mine. It was I who afforded the hefty sums for the objects. You did not figure out their purposes did you?'
Blaz and Kalphor both shook their heads. 'The figuring of such technologies was beyond us,' responded Kalphor. 'I sensed that they may need a power source of sorts to some how make them work, and that such a thing was perchance lacking without direct knowledge of their making. They seem to be ancient technology, of the days of old, the old empires which once ran our world.'
'It is an ancient world,' agreed Zen, not yet naming himself. 'Some say Olo Malan has seen years beyond the normal reckoning and counting of human imagination, even those of the scholastic studies are baffled by such things. I have always believed an omnipotent wizard named Harry Potter created the universe, for his legend even reaches fair Olo Malan. The ancients speak of a great creator wizard of legendary power, beyond mortal men, and his red-haired friend. This, I believe, is the famed Harry Potter.'
'Never heard of him,' said Togura. 'But anything is possible I guess.'
'We are the sperm of the god's,' declared Blaz Durass confidently. 'When I was young my father instructed me in the religious idolatry of our family faith, and a whole host of deities known as the 'Good Guys' created everything, and we are their spermal offspring. There is also talk of the 'Bad Guys' who oppose them.'
'Interesting,' said Zen, stroking his chin.
'Lord Draconis, creator of the dragons and wyvverns, created all,' put in the Wyvvern suddenly. 'We know this to be true and accept it as a principle of our faith.'
'Wyvvern religion?' queried Togura.
'We have a rich culture on such things,' responded the dragon.
'The Watermelon is lord of all,' put in Kalphor. 'This is self-evident.'
Togura smiled. He had heard of Kalphor's watermelon sect a number of times.

Zen looked at Togura. 'What say you of the origin of life?'
'A pissed off deity, with a wicked sense of humour,' responded Togura, and all nodded in agreement.

* * * * *

They spent a few days with the wizard, who failed to reveal his name, and while in the end they were prepared to live up to their agreement to offer money, he refused. They spent a little time looking through the village, found the odd item which looked particularly valuable and stored them in the bottle, before finally being ready to once again move on with their questing.
'I am sure we will once again meet,' said the wizard in red, bowing to them as they were ready to depart. 'After all, in a place like Argan there are only so many places to hide.'

So, moving on from the village, Kalphor once again resumed his eagle-like form and, carrying the bottle, they flew in a favourable direction, found a safe looking plateau, and camped for the night.
Around the campfire they started chatting about life in general, and Blaz was sharing some of his early adventures in Wizarding school.
'I was never popular,' continued Blaz. 'The butt of many a joke, all insinuating I had the magical talent of a dung beetle, which is quite unfair. But, in truth, there are mysteries of the arts which I am yet to conquer, and even certain basic things are beyond me.'
Togura, munching down on a piece of wild rabbit, said 'Like what?'
'Oh, this and that. I tried turning lead into gold. Nobody is good at that. But there was a requirement, once, on an exam. I failed it miserably - didn't have a chance, anyway. Too squeamish for me.'
'Which was?' asked Kalphor.
'Turning blood into jelly,' responded Blaz. 'I faint at the sight of blood, especially my own. I don't think, for the life of me, I could ever master such an art.'
'Don't sweat it,' said Togura. 'Somehow I doubt we will ever need such a service from you.'
'I just can't do it,' responded Blaz. 'I turn pale at the sight of blood and vomit uncontrollably. Fortunately it wasn't a pre-requisite for becoming a wizard.'

Later that evening, looking into the smouldering fireplace, ever-ready for a swarm attack, the other's already asleep in the bottle, Togura stared into the fires, thinking of his beloved Day Suet and other things. He thought back on the marriage, when he had proposed, and she had accepted, and the Poulaan clan and the Suet clan had joined, despite prior hostilities. His father, the Baron of Poulaan, ever eager for progeny and heir to continue the family tradition, had welcomed Day into the family and given the new couple an ample and quite likeable new cottage on the family estate which, in the words of the Baron, would suffice until Togura was old enough and mature enough to undertake his own roles, should he himself become too old to continue. The cottage had been initially planned for the living residence of his half-brother, Cromarty, who seemed to have met an unfortunate end in the belly of pigs, dogs and rats. The young couple, till that point, had been living in the town of Keep, near the Poulaan estate, a township of 5,000 or so souls, in a house which had been lent to them by Raznak the Golsh. The beastly Slerma, who had insisted on Togura's loyalty for quite some time, seemed to finally have gotten over her demands on the son of the Baron, and shacked up with an erstwhile inhabitant of northern Sung, who had come looking for adventure in the township of Keep and, due to his quite basic looks, and lack of marriage, had been claimed by Slerma as a lover, and was dutifully serving his new bride, bringing home the bacon.

Bringing home the bacon, as it were, was not exactly always that easy in the land of Sung. The King of Sung, Skan Askander, had the economic sensibilities of the traditional Ravlish Dictator, who intended to rule by might, but had a bent on decadence, and was more concerned with his herd of pigs, than paying attention to the currency he in fact issued on behalf of the apparent kingdom, which surprisingly had become popular anyway, despite the fact that Sung was a nothing of a Kingdom in a real sense, as it was the barons of the eastern ends of the Ravlish lands who really ruled Sung for the most part anyway. Due to the king's obsession with pigs, perhaps, as the currency he issued was backed by pork, with the currency known as the 'Rasher', technically redeemable by the royal exchequer for bacon, the economic plight of sung had been cast into the shadows (were it usually dwelt anyway) when a particularly nasty epidemic of swine flu had accounted for 95% of the pig population. This had led to economic mayhem, and the real cost of pork had shot up through the roof, leading to the actual 'Bringing home of the Bacon' a rare event for most residents of Sung.

Fortunately, for the likes of Baron Poulaan, with a greater diversity of economic strategies at his disposal, killing off the family's good fortunes was not quite as easy, as they relied less on the 'Rasher' than on good Poulaan sense. After all, Skan Askander was not a man to be invested upon in economic circumstances at the best of times. But what could kill off the fortunes of his father anyway? The bravest heart on Sung in Togura's imagination, surely deserving of Kingship over the land rather than the incompetent Skan Askander. Was that his own destiny? Was that Togura's own fate? Would he win such riches on Argan to raise a mighty empire of followers, and gain such a reputation that the nobility of the backwater Sung would come and worship at his feet? Perhaps he liked to think so.

This world of Olo Malan he lived in was a strange world, with many fantastic places to visit, sights to behold and creatures to engage, the Wyvvern not the least of them. It was a wild world, an untamed beast of savage desire, strange affections, and neurotic individuals. It seemed, from what Togura had observed over his hectic life, that the fine art of stable politics eluded the history of this world, a truth testified to by his once counterpart, Draven. Draven and himself had been through a number of past adventures, including a battle on the Western Argan coastal city of Androlmarphos. Draven was a philosophical man of sorts, and had once explained to Togura the meaning of life from the perspective of a resident of Olo Malan.

Firstly, morality was always negotiable. In the right circumstances, or the wrong circumstances, depending on your perspective at the time, cutting off a man's jizzard's could indeed be the politically and socially acceptable thing to do, in relation to the situation at hand. A passionate lover, who had bedded your promised virgin, a dissident neighbour who's drinking sessions kept you up at night, a bothersome member of the growing watchtower sect who insisted on sharing with you the good news of the soon coming Grand Guardian Watermelon, or a shopkeeper who had overcharged you one too many a rasher, were all justifiable arguments, in the wisdom of Draven, for depriving a man of future progeny. This also led, logically, to the theory expounded by a number of the Korugatu philosophers of Chi-Ash-Lan, that in this thing called life, without clear knowledge of the causality of action, wether it be predestination, or complete freedom, an issue of heated debate, that if it felt like the right thing to do in your own cogitational impulses, then such were you supposed to do out of the impulses of freedom, or such were you led to do out of the predestinatory plan of a cosmic mastermind responsible for sentient existence. Either way, if you wanted to slaughter that innocent looking unicorn, just for the hell of it, or ravage that fair maiden, again, just for the hell of it, or feed your enemies poison milk, or sleep with your neighbour's wife, or horde goods, or steal, or lie, or kidnap, or blaspheme revered deities, or any such of what, perhaps might in more regular circumstances be presumed to be acts of vile malfeasance, then such should you in fact do. To question such actions on the trivial grounds of so called morality was firstly, quite plainly stupid, as every man in the street could tell you quite truthfully that life just didn't work that way in the real world, according to the wisdom of Draven, and an assortment of such revered Korugatu philosophers as Klen Klo, Shomo Shamo Shah and Brang Tang Shmangabang and the like. If it felt good, do it, and who could argue with the wisdom of those simple truths? Perhaps, some argued, from the so called right wing of philosophy, a smaller, more recent, but growing phenomenon in Korugatu philosophical circles, those concerned with such issues of universal law and order, and the upkeep of society in general, morality should be the natural pursuit of men to bring peace and law to society for the general good and wellbeing of all. The left laughed at this ideology, and the mockery was never too friendly, yet this did not displace the ongoing popularity of such thought amongst those noble rulers who attempted to bring a semblance of order to such a chaotic world and, so it was theorized by many on the right of the Korugatu philosophical community, a noble spark of the divine which reflected those who were predestined for good things in an afterlife sense, and those who would end up 'In the Shit' as it were, for those who chose evil, a viewpoint of which was incredibly popular with the soul-devouring conquests of the militant converting machine, the illustrious watchtower watermelon sect of northern Ashmolea, were Korugatu wisdom had reached in the format of a number of published texts obtained for the purposes of elucidating the minds of the simple, in the words of various Watchtower elders. Draven laughed at such stupidities.

Secondly, the main purpose of life, once you had worked out the sound principle that you should do what the hell you wanted to do, as your life was your own, according to the wisdom of Draven, was to in fact accumulate vast reservoirs of wealth, hordes of slaves and servants, a harem of only the finest and healthiest female (usually) wives and concubines, many pleasant fields, vast reserves of assets, and the best plonk the market had available for sale. And gross indulgence in the finer things in life, once you had figured out the challenge of acquiring all this vast blessing, was the obvious main purpose of human, and otherwise, existence, for what else could truly bring the soul happiness than being Lord of your domain, grossly indulgent in every which way. What indeed, Togura often wondered.

Thus, with such a popular philosophy, quite popular in the worlds of Olo Malan, the actual finding of a stable and successfully enduring political entity, such as a Kingdom which had lasted more than just a few millennia, or a business entity which had not grown corrupt and decadent with age and accumulation of wealth, was a rare thing indeed, which made life in the ever-changing history of the world of Olo Malan, ever exciting, if not a little nerve wracking. But that was life, thought Togura, and some things never changed, did they.

Sitting there, staring into the fireplace, his thoughts on politics, philosophy, and the bedding of Day Suet, Togura drifted away into slumberland, images of Rashers and Pigs, and an extremely obese Slerma, haunting him as he finally ended up in the bed with his beloved, thrusting away his concerns to orgasmic ecstasy.

* * * * *

The following morning Togura awoke suddenly when a cool breeze started wafting around his legs, and rain shortly began falling from the sky. He looked skywards at the grey, drizzly morning, and quickly surmised it to be a day for staying inside the bottle, and let banditry be buggered for a while.

He carefully placed the bottle in the trunk of a nearby tree and, holding his belongings, used the pendant to enter the bottle.

'Yo, Blaz. What's up?' asked Togura, coming into the main domicile of the bottle, finding Blaz sitting at the table, eating a morning breakfast of cereal with goat's milk they had found in the village they had just been in.
'Oh, the sky I guess,' responded Blaz innocently.
'Were did you find the cereal?' asked Togura.
'This bottle is quite large, you know,' responded Blaz. 'There are several lower levels to this thing, and I found a number of food stores in my searchings.'
'Oh, that's right,' responded Togura. 'Kalphor spent some time storing necessary supplies for us - used his magic to pack a warehouse of supplies practically. All sorts of stuff down below.'
'That's were I found this cereal. Bran flakes, apparently made in Tameran, from the label on the package.'
'They are quite advanced these days, in certain sections of Tameran culture. Labelling food products in packages. A very novel idea.'
'Possibly makes good economic sense,' responded Blaz.
'What is the world coming to, huh?' said Togura, throwing his hands in the air.


Blaz and Togura spent most of that morning engaged in various Sung card games he had been taught by his father growing up, such as 'Stone the Leper' which was something of a card variant of the real life equivalent activity, and 'Frogs and Logs' and other simpler games. Blaz confessed he knew little of such things, as had never much time for trivial games growing up, mainly obsessed with his planned future magical career.

Eventually Kalphor appeared, bleary eyed, quite apparently the result of a previous nights heavy drinking session.
'You look wonderful, Kally,' said Togura sarcastically.
'Don't speak so loud,' said Blaz, even though Togura had spoken in a normal tone. 'Gah, my head feels like a herd of elephants have trodden on it.'
'As it also traditionally resembles,' responded Togura smartly.
'Oh, hah hah,' replied Kalphor. 'Did you think that up yourself?'
'The good and fine and proper education of Sung schoolery,' said Togura proudly. 'With bastard-like brothers such as Cromarty the Pig-Slaughterer and Cat Molester, you had to learn to keep your wits. Otherwise the mockery would come thick and fast, and quite mercilessly as well.'
'Cat molester?' queried Kalphor, eyebrow raised.
'Oh, Cromarty was full of tricks, especially in his bizarre sexual fetishes, which father was worried would lead to the ruin of the family name. Goats, sheep, all sorts of things. Not to mention pigs. Believe me, not to mention pigs.'
'Fascinating,' responded Kalphor, taking a seat at the table.

'Are you hungry?' Blaz asked Kalphor, indicating his cereal, to which Kalphor promptly, his stomach instantly churning at the sight of food, emptied his guts on the table, spewing forth a vile concoction of alcohol, bread, bits of meat, and other strange looking things, all in the traditional format for which vomit was so well and truly known and hated.
'Ehhrrr,' said Kalphor. 'Glad to see that crap out.'
'You are disgusting,' said Togura. 'Aren't you.'
Blaz, on the other hand, began wiping up the sick into a bucket, and patted Kalphor on the back. 'Perhaps you should go back to bed. I will bring you some lemon water which should settle your stomach. Its raining today anyway, so we may as well stay in for a while.'
Kalphor nodded, retreated downstairs to his sleeping quarters, leaving Togura staring at a particularly disgusting concoction which Blaz was doing his best to clean up.
'The virtues of a drunkard,' said Togura dismissively, to which Blaz nodded.

The rest of the day they spent down below, in the main living room of the bottle, were the Wyvvern was settled into next to the fireplace which was burning, fuelled by wood they had collected, with the smoke going up a chimney which, apparently, emptied itself somehow miraculously outwards near the top of the bottle, the fathoming of such mysteries beyond the comprehension of Togura. Blaz shared a number of tales about his time in the Wizarding School, and about his lifes ambitions, and Togura eventually found one of the books he had brought along from Sung, a childhood favourite, on werewolves and vampires, and settled in to read about the adventures of a particular hero facing such obstacles in northern Yestron.

* * * * *

The following day, with no specific travel plans in mind, Kalphor again transmogrified into a giant eagle and flew northwards, until he spotted what looked like a small city of sorts, landed, and entered the bottle.
'I'm not sure what the place is called, but it is well and truly abandoned, and there don't appear to be any swarms present. We could find treasure in abundance.'
The group agreed and they readied themselves for further treasure acquiring.

They entered the city, carefully, keeping their eyes peeled for the slightest hint of swarm activity, when they came to a rather impressive looking tower which seemed profitable to their glory-seeking imaginations. 'This should do,' said Kalphor, indicating the tower. 'A good a place to start as any I would think.'
The others agreed, and they entered the tower to begin their searchings.
On the upper levels they found broken down furniture, a number of animal nestings and other signs of no human activity for a prolonged period, yet nothing really in terms of valuables to speak of.

It was Togura who, down in the basement of the tower, having descended a stairwell he found, once again was confronted with a floor diagram, and a wall with a series of knobs on it. He yelled for the others, and they gazed at the arrangement.
'I think, perhaps,' began Kalphor,' that for the fear of a beast machine like our prior encounter, it might be best to leave this untouched and not try opening it.'
Togura thought on the potential weapons and technology lying on the other side of the wall, but in the end reluctantly agreed with Kalphor.
'You probably speak wisdom, Wizard. Another encounter like the last one, and if we find no suitable weapons we would be done for.'
'So let us search on and leave this alone,' finished Kalphor. 'Best safe than sorry.'

Togura continued staring at the diagram for some time, while the others continued the search of the tower, and noting the pattern on the floor, pushed some of the knobs into place, and assumed that if he continued it would open the panel again. He thought better of it, and left it remaining unsolved. Curiousity killed the cat, after all.

The tower finally turned up some treasure boxes in a back room, full of mainly silver coinage, with some rare golden ones they found near the bottom. It was laboriously stored inside the bottle, and they congratulated each other on their find the rest of the afternoon. They spent the next day and a half exploring the remainder of the village, which was really a small township once explored properly, and they found the usual assortments of treasures left behind here and there, typical for their scavenging so far.

It was late on the third day that they finally felt they had exhausted the place in their searchings, so stored up in the tower, entered the bottle, and decided to rest for a few days before resuming their treasure questing.

* * * * *

A solitary figure, lonely, hot, thirsty, and not knowing who he was, or were on earth he was, wandering through a bleak desert-scape region, put his hand to his forehead and swore to himself as he wiped away the sweat. He didn't know how he had gotten here, but found himself, earlier that day, woken by crawling scorpions over his legs, and brushed them away quickly, rising to find himself in a most unhospitable looking climate. And thus he began wandering, not knowing where he was, where he was going, or much of anything else for that matter. In fact, all he did know was that he was thirsty, and would probably die soon if he did not get something to drink.

The Sun seemed perhaps furious in its heat, or perhaps it was just the region he was in and his dehydrated state, but hallucinations had flooded his mind all morning, of vile looking swarm creatures chasing him, which caused him to pathetically run for a few footsteps but, upon looking back, finding nothing there. It was a nightmare world he found himself in, of craving thirst, exhaustion from the heat, and mad creatures of hell.

Yet, he struggled on and, despite thinking the end would inevitably come, later on the following day he reached the edge of the bleak region, found, mercifully, a small creek, and drank deeply, reviving his soul. He lay there for some time, not wanting to move, not wanting to even dare walking again, when he fell asleep, and dreamed. Dreams of a fair maiden, with shapely hips, and luscious bosoms, whom he seemed to know he was married to, and found comfort in her arms and her breasts.

He awoke in the early morning light, drank deeply again from the creek and finding some wild berries he ate and satiated his hunger somewhat.

He started on further through the wilderness, following the creek upstream, feeding on wild berries, still puzzling on who he really was. For four weeks he wandered in this dark region, the hallucinations of wild beasts continuing, all the time trying to remember who he was, but to no avail. And the dreams of the beautiful maiden continued, each night in slumberland resting in her arms, escaping the madness of the world he found himself in, escaping the inevitable end of it all which seemed to be beckoning him. Eventually, coming upstream, seeming to his mind to be instinctively following a route that he didn't even know why he was following, he came to a small village and was instantly taken upon by wild savage warriors, presumably inhabitants of the village, armed with spears, who came forward, gathered around him to gaze upon him, pointing at him, but otherwise leaving him untouched and unharmed. They were only curious, so it seemed. Then, coming out of a hut, a figure dressed in red, who seemed somewhat familiar, spoke to him. 'Well done, Togura Poulaan. You do appear to be a stubborn individual.' The figure raised his hands, spoke some foreign words, and, so it seemed, cast a spell on him, and, suddenly remembering his name was in fact Togura Poulaan as the figure had called him, instantly began recalling the trial the wizard had set him after he and his friends had reached a village in search of treasures.
'Zen Durander!' exclaimed Togura. 'Where are Blaz, and Kalphor? And the Wyvvern? Are they still safe? I have passed your blasted trial.'
The Archimage, Zen Durander, nodded. Indeed, Togura Poulaan had passed his test. Zen had had it in mind to test these travellers, as he had continued observing them since they had left his village, to see if they were worthy to come into his permanent acquaintanceship and entourage for the furtherment of his own ambitions. And, through a series of tests, he would see just how hardy and capable they were as survivors. He had decided that Togura would be the first one for his testing and, after capturing Blaz and Kalphor and the Wyvvern and imprisoning them in this savage village, he had set Togura a test to, if he could, make his way back to the village, with his memories being largely dimmed, from a place in a nearby deserty region. If he could pass the test, Durander had agreed he would release Togura's companions.
'Yes, brave Togura. You seem to indeed be a survivor. A warrior of true courage and determination.' The Archimage continued surveying his desired servant, assessing him, and making a mental note in his head that Togura would make a suitable asset in his lifelong ambitions, especially current ones here on Argan, he signalled to one of the villagers with strange hand signals. The villager left, but shortly Blaz, Kalphor and the Wyvvern appeared, and the Archimage spoke to the group. 'You are all free to leave. Togura has shown himself valiant and brave. But, I am sure dear friends, we will meet again. After all, there are not a lot of places to hide on Argan, are there?' he said with a wicked laugh, leaving Togura ready to insult him.

The group travelled on from the village, turning southwards, avoiding the desert region, before they camped for the night, hiding the bottle in a suitable place, Togura declaring he needed a rest for a few days after his nightmarish ordeal, which the others did not object to.

* * * * *

They rested in the bottle for the next few days as Togura's memories gradually returned. He knew, then, the maiden was his fair wife, Day Suet, and that her spirit had been there for him, comforting him, leading him home. His heart, even more so, yearned for her, and he looked forward to the time when, finally, finished with Argan and its treasures, he could return him, bed his fair Day Suet once more, and concentrate on more mundane matters, such as becoming the next Baron of Poulaan.

Finally, moving on, they came to quite a small village, searched for a while and found a handful of coinage here and there, but the main commotion was the attack of a fierce swarm creature, who the Wyvvern fought valiantly and, with the spells of the wizard Kalphor, they managed to defeat and turn into, yet again, a fowl smelling carcass.

Later, back in the bottle, Togura broached something which had been on his mind for a while. 'Really, Kally, we need a major payoff. Something were we can gain vast wealth. Some grand city, or estate of a former nobleman. Is there anything around here that you think might answer this?'
'Nothing, that I can think of Togura. Nothing, apart from one thing which would promise a lot but, no. No, its too dangerous.'
'What?' asked Togura.
'Nothing. We have been through far to much crap for me to ask it of you.'
'If it will give me the wealth necessary for kingship of Sung, I am willing to risk it. Tell your story.'
'Well, there is a place. A dangerous place. The pit of the snake king. I am sure he has abandoned Argan, Togura. The swarms must surely have taken care of that.'
'And if he hasn't?' replied the concerned Togura.
'Then we will find out soon enough,' finished Kalphor, leading to a reluctant nod from Togura.

The group travelled onwards for a number of days, travelling towards the south-eastern section of Argan, and came to a dismal looking valley. Entering the valley and walking carefully through it for a while, Togura was alarmed at the increasing number of snakes they encountered the further in they progressed.
'It is called the pit of the snake king for a reason,' interjected Kalphor, which made Togura none the happier, although the Wyvvern didn't seem to mind.
'I am not really sure if this is worth the risk,' muttered Togura, but agreed to persevere onwards anyway.

They came to the nadir of the valley and, true to Kalphor's word, they found the famed pit of the snake king, an elaborately coiled tunnel which wound downwards in a spiral fashion deep into the earth, according to the wisdom of Kalphor. Lighting there torches, ready for anything, they entered in, descending down into the darkness. Hissing snakes were everywhere, naturally, and they fought off a number of them before finally reaching the bottom of the pit, which appeared to be the throne chamber of the Snake King himself, the Snake King not seeming to be present at this time. Togura noted all the elaborate snakelike designs on the wall, but with no snake king present to worry about, they soon began their treasure search. Unfortunately, after much hunting around, and much dealing with annoying snakes, they came up empty and were ready to give up.

They travelled, disappointed, back up into the light but, coming back into the open, they were once again confronted with the man in red - the Archimage Zen Durander.

'What the hell do you want again?' grumbled Togura at the mage.
As if in response, Zen raised his hands, cast yet another spell, which, controlling their minds, forced them to march back down into the pit, all the time boasting of his killing of the snake king and the capturing of his wealth.
When they reached the bottom, Kalphor seemed able to turn to Zen and demanded of him 'What do you want with us now?'
Zen stared at him with a mad grin and said 'It is time for your own testing, Kalphor. To see if you really are a wizard worthy of my service. Togura has passed, well, but I have concerns over your own capabilities. The task is this - you see this throne?' he said, indicating the throne of the snake king. Kalphor nodded. Zen walked over to the throne, pushed a lever next to it, and suddenly a trap door grinded open in front of the floor, revealing a flight of steps. 'I have not yet risked these steps, Kalphor, for I fear snakes greatly. But the snake king assured me, before I decapitated him, that at the bottom of this stairwell, along a great corridor, lies a treasure room full of gold. Yet the way is guarded by vipers and adders, and I detest such creatures. Take this sack, fill it with as much gold as you can carry, return here and I will free your compatriots.'
'And that is all?' asked Kalphor. 'You will let us go?'
'Return with a sack of gold, and you have shown yourself brave enough for my service. Now get,' he said, indicating the steps.

Kalphor descended, as Togura and the group watched on. The descent did not take that long and while Kalphor was not particularly bothered by hissing snakes, he kept his wits about him as he reached the bottom of the steps and began his way along the corridor. At the end was a locked metal door, which he blasted open with a fireball spell on the lock. Pushing the door open, he indeed found the treasure room, which was, albeit modestly, full of assorted chests of silver for the most part, but small smatterings of gold, as well as gems of various sorts. Quickly, filling the sack with as much as he could carry, he returned along the corridor, up the stairwell, and presented his find to the mad wizard. Zen looked into the sack, grinned at the treasure, and turned to the group.
'Bravery is indeed in your heart, wizard Kalphor. But I wonder if your remaining companions are so courageous. We will find out soon enough, though. Very well, you are free to leave,' and saying so, he cast another spell, which unfroze their body, and Togura, making a hand signal of Sung tradition of quite a crude suggestion, led the group back up out of the snake pit for the final time, and out of the valley of the snakes.

When they finally reached the edge of the valley, Togura turned to the group. 'If I NEVER see another snake it will still be too soon, and the others laughed knowingly.


THE END

Latter Events

Coming into another village the group are suddenly surrounded by soldiers. The soldiers bring them to a fowl smelling fat man who says they will make good fodder for 'The Games'. They are thrown into a prison with various other victims, all of them talking in fear about 'The Arena'. After a few days of living in the prison, they begin talking about having put up with the situation enough and escaping, but suddenly Togura is summoned to the Arena. The Arena is just that, an Arena in the centre of the village, the central disc of the arena surrounded by a high metal railing with spikes, making the Arena impossible to escape from. There is a crowd of boisterous boozing citizens at the arena, all screaming for Togura's blood as he is brought into the arena. The soldier who brings him into the arena laughs at him and says 'Good luck, lad,' tossing him a sword. The soldier leaves the arena and the crowd start chanting 'Blood, blood, blood.' Suddenly a small swarm beast is released into the arena and Togura grabs the sword to fight it. All the time the crowd is screaming 'Blood'. Fortunately, after a fight, Togura slays the beast and the crowd cheer 'Hero, hero, hero, hero.' Togura is then presented to the fat man who says 'Well done Valiant hero. Win two more fights and we will grant you your freedom.' He is then returned to the prison. A week passes and this time Togura and Kalphor are brought to the Arena and this time they fight 2 beasts. Togura uses the sword and Kalphor manages to summon a fireball and they slay the beasts. They are returned to the prison. Another week passes and all 4 of them, including the Wyvvern, are taken into the arena. This time a monstrous looking swarm creature, greater than any they have fought so far, is unleashed upon them. The Wyvvern is the main fighter against it, but even he is scared of such a beast. However, working as a team, Blaz managing to summon a kind of pathetic fireball which just happens to be strong enough to finish off the beast, they defeat the swarm. They are all cheered as heroes and the fat man agrees to release them, presenting them with wreathes of solid gold as the 'Champions.'

Having left the arena behind them they travel northwards to do some old fashioned sightseeing of the 'Kardurus Waterfalls' one of the most spectacular set of waterfalls in Argan. They arrive at the waterfalls and relax for a few days when, suddenly, Archimage Zen Durass captures them with his magic and says 'It is time for your third trial, oh group of heroes.' He turns to the Wyvvern and says 'Now it is your time of testing, oh mighty Vanderskar. See this boulder,' he says indicating a large boulder, perhaps beyond the Wyvverns strength. 'Take this to the top of the waterfall, push it into the water and down the waterfall so it makes a suitable large splash, and I will release your friends. You have my word.' The Wyvvern agrees and starts to pick up the boulder, but it is very heavy. Yet, using strength beyond himself, he manages to pick up the boulder and fly to the top of the waterfall, albeit slowly. He pushes the rock over the edge of the waterfall, and the group watches as it falls down quite spectacularly and makes an enormous splash, covering them all. Zen starts clapping and when the Wyvvern returns he says 'Well done mighty Wyvvern. True to my word, you and your friends are free to depart. But, believe me, we will meet one last time.' As Zen departs, Togura looks at Blaz and realizes he is the last to be tested, very worried because of it.
The group depart the waterfalls and make for their next destination, a large village to the south near a goldmine. They are hopeful to find some gold there.

They leave the village of the goldmine having found a reasonable amount of gold here and there, and at the request of Kalphor travel to a nearby fertile river district, which was once home to a tribe of fierce warrior women, known as Ammazonyans, who had a penchant for killing most of their males at birth, yet keeping a small number for mating purposes.
They travel to the area and camp beside the river, not noticing any swarms in the area. Suddenly a group of Ammazonyans captures them and brings them to their queen. 'We shall be most entertained with you,' says the queen. 'We only have one male currently, and our woman need to give birth. Your seed should prove most useful.' Reluctantly the group are forced into mating rituals with the Ammazonyans and after several encounters Togura questions just how much sperm his testicles can possibly produce. Blaz and Kalphor seem to be able to relate.'
They spend 3 months in the camp of the Ammazonyans, slaves to their sexual desires, when the queen says 'I think it is time you met our king, for he has been asking for you.' They take the group to the king, only to fall, once again, into the hands of Archimage Zen Durass, who is the king of the Ammazonyans. 'My lovely's value much your presence, for my sperm count is low at the best of times. So, for your ultimate freedom, I challenge Blaz Durass to a feat of magic. A simple one. My lovely princesses have a penchant for desserts, so the test is simple. We have an ample supply of blood from the Ammazonyans ritual slayings of various wild animals. They preserve the blood and keep it as a hold record of their offerings to the wild gods. However, they would eat the offerings if they were at all palatable. The testing is this. Blaz Durass,' said Archimage Zen Durander, speaking quite boldly, can you, there was a pause, 'Turn blood into jelly.' At those words Kalphor groaned, Togura swore, and Blaz looked flabbergasted. Blaz turned to the group 'I'll try, ok. I'll try.' 'You better,' responded the despondent looking Togura.
Piles of jelly are brought in front of Blaz and, while he turns pale, he summons up all his strength, prays a quick prayer to every demon lord he knows, and casts the spell. Nothing happens to start with, but slowly the blood coagulates and gradually transmogrifies into rich, plum jelly. An Ammazonyan tastes it, smiles and nods, and Blaz looks quite pleased with himself. Zen congratulates them, gives them some gold for their efforts and releases them.
They leave the riverina place and Togura announces that they really need one final grand cash haul and they can retire and live like kings.

It is decided that they will rob the grave of the Arch-Regent of Astoryas, who was buried in a large pyramid. Supposedly, as the rumours go, vast wealth was buried with the king and now that it is no longer guarded the wealth is there for the taking.
They travel to Astoryas and come to the large pyramid. Bearing torches they enter the complex. Togura falls down a pit trap, landing just near some spikes, and breaking his leg. Suddenly giant spiders come from the ceiling and attack the group but Kalphor casts an iceball spell and burns them up. They rescue Togura from the pit and continue down the narrow hallway. Next they come to a door and using a lever to open it wild vampire bats emerge and start trying to attack them. The wyvern simply gulps them down as he is fond of eating vampire bats. They come through the doorway into a room with a narrow looking walkway going to another closed doorway. As Togura ventures along first he steps on a panel and a siren's voices starts singing and, under the spell, he jumps into the water. Fortunately the two wizards seem unaffected and Blaz, being a hero, jumps in the water and rescues the drowning Togura. They climb to the other side of the walkway and lever open the door and continue. In the next room is a chess grid on the floor with what appear to be random numbers on them. As soon as Togura steps on one of the squares giant wasps emerge and attack the group. Blaz manages to cast a spell to turn the wasps into stone and they fall to the floor, breaking. They look at the chess board which covers there escape pathway and Togura works out that there is a numerical sequence to the numbers. Jumping in order from smallest to largest they cross the board successfully, open the door and continue on. In the next room there is a large see through panel in the centre of the room, on the other side of which they can see the tomb of the Arch Regent which is laden with gold and many treasure chests scattered around the tomb. Togura exclaims success but Kalphor advises caution as they investigate the panel. Togura attacks it with a sword, to no success, and they look dumbfounded. Blaz notices some levers over by the side of the room and, when he pulls them, they make a screeching noise. Togura pulls one of the other levers, and the noise is horrific, but he notices a few cracks have appeared in the panel. Figuring out that this must have been the way to destroy the panel, he and Blaz pull both levers rapidly and gradually the panel cracks and they come through and claim the treasure. They are all overjoyed yet, after they have stored all the treasures in the bottle, they look at the gold encrusted tomb. Kalphor says to let the dead rest in peace, but greed gets the better of Togura and he says they should steal the covering. They lift of the lid and suddenly the mummy body of the Arch-Regent rises up using a waraxe buried in its tomb with it and attacks them. Togura fights it with his sword, but eventually a swipe from the Wyvvern knocks off the head and the mummy falls to the ground and disintegrates. Kalphor says 'I told you to let the dead rest in peace', but Togura responds 'Well he is totally dead now, so don't sweat it.' They claim the lid and, all of them gloating about their riches, leave the pyramid.

The group return to Sung and Togura is reunited with Day Suet his wife, who finally, upon viewing Togura's vast wealth, decides to take on his family name as her own surname, something she had been reluctant to do, still clinging to her father's clan somewhat. Kalphor purchases a small parcel of land on the Poulaan estate and becomes the official wizard for the Poulaan clan. Blaz and the Wyvvern decide to stay around for the while, as Blaz has been given a share of the wealth, and the Wyvvern has nothing better to do. Baron Poulaan, who has been suffering in his health, decides that the time is right to abdicate and places Togura as the new Baron of the Poulaan clan. Togura has an audience with the king and is welcomed into the inner circle of the Sung hierarchy.

Morgan Hearst is visiting an old friend on Sung and he meets Togura at a meeting of the Royal council of Advisors. Morgan talks with Togura of his ambitions on Rovac and Togura takes an interest. Togura is having dinner with Kalphor, Blaz and the wizard and speaks of the door-circles and of Morgan Hearst's ambitions for Rovac. Togura invites Morgan to dinner at the Poulaan estate and they discuss their ambitions.

Togura, now ambitious to become King of Sung, realizing that with his increasing fame on Sung due to his newfound wealth and heroic fighting capabilities, seeks to join Morgan's questing ambitions and the economic prosperity in controlling the door-circles, and thus listening to Morgan's plans, joins with him to travel to the islands of Rovac. Meanwhile, Blaz, leaving their company, returns to the Cold West to resume his Wizarding work with the Wyvvern. The Wyvvern, though, having gained some insight into the plans of Morgan Hearst and his knowledge of the three circles, leaves Blaz and staying out of sight, follows Morgan Hearst and Togura to the Rovac Islands were he meets up with Thodric Jarl.

Thodric Jarl has an allergic reaction to Wyvverns, but does his best to listen to the Wyvvern's tale and enters into an agreement with the Wyvvern on behalf of the Wyvvern's community, aiming to bring Wyvverndom into the anticipated economic prosperity which seems to lie ahead. On the islands of Rovac one particular isolated island is contaminated with creatures of the Swarms. On the island is a Door which Hearst opens with a star-globe he brought from the Lesser Teeth: the Star Globe originally brought to the Lessers by Yen Olass Ampadara.

The book then follows the progress of Hearst and Togura's ambitions as they form an alliance with Jarl, the Wyvvern staying unseen as they seek to integrate themselves into the society of Rovac and to control this Third Circle.

The Wyvvern comes into prominence, utilized by the sensible Jarl Thodric, as a emblem of Thodric's own wisdom in the economic plans for Rovac. Thodric rises to sit on the 'Rovac Economic Council for the furtherance of economic prosperity and societal and cultural advancement'. Thodric initially block's Hearst and Togura's ambitious economic plans, demanding that Hearst relinquish the power of the door-circles to the council's authority. Hearst refuses but they negotiate a contract with the lawyers for the general use of the door-circles, with a hefty tariff fee going to Hearst and the Council. A new coinage is introduced by Thodric for use in the system of the Rovac Ring with the emblem of the Wyvvern engraved on one side, being viewed with such titles as 'The Grand Beast of Economic Prosperity', and 'The Beast of Wealth' and simply 'The Beast'. A Watchtower representative makes accusations and starts promoting the view that the Wyvvern and the Rovac ring represent the great 'Babel' abomination that marks the end of the age before the return of the 'Grand Guardian Watermelon' and, coming from Ashmolea, begins making converts throughout Rovac. Yet a prophet from the 'Watermelon' sect, the sect now becoming caught up in its own speculation of the 'Grand Guardian Watermelon' declares that Babel will be headed by a most vile and disgusting dictator and that, while the Wyvvern is a good fit, Babel itself will be monstrous.

Blaz is visiting Rovac and the Wyvvern, thinking fondly of him, helps him establish the Rovac Guild of Wizards, Witches and Warlocks.

The story climaxes with Blaz Durass coming to prominence in Rovac as the great Wyvvern's chosen wizard to sit on on the Rovac Guild of Wizards, Witches and Warlock's council. The Wyvvern has managed to integrate himself into Rovac culture as practically a 'god' as the Rovac often worshipped Wyvvern's in the past and a talking Wyvvern is something truly to behold. The guild is one of the voices in the new Rovac Economic Prosperity Government, which seeks to utilize the power of the circles to amass wealth for itself and build its civilization. Togura seeks to act as a voice for Sung in this process and, having befriended both the Wyvvern and Blaz, is voted upon as official Sung representative on the Economic Prosperity council of Rovac. Togura then leaves his friends to return to Sung with the good news, upon which Sung proclaims him as their new King, with the coronation of King Togura of Sung being the climax to the novel.

THE END

Chronicles of an Age of Darkness

Tales of Darkness
By Daniel 'Hugh Cook' Daly
6175 SC

The Wordguild and the Warsmiths
Prologue
Olo Malan is a world beset by terror of every order. Yet in the universe of Bera Shambala, which is connected to Olo Malan by a portal of another Worldring which is rarely connected to, known only by the 'Bragmen' of Chomba Pass in the far northern reaches of Tameran, there exists two fundamental organisations. The Wordguild and the Warsmiths.

Now the Wordguild is based simply on that - Words. And, so it is taught every generation to all and sundry who will listen to the splendid message of salvation as taught by the Wordguild, by the Words of Power was all that is created. And what created all that is? Well, that is the divine mystery, as they rightly say. Thus, words - language - communication - was the true saviour of men, and every word of knowledge honoured, cherished, and taught as truly perfect. The way of enlightenment was thus truly enshrined in the dictionaries of power, the heart and mind of every servant of the Wordguild.

Now the Warsmiths opposed the Wordguild, not out of any deeply thought out philosophy, but rather a simple and banal penchant for that most barbarous of activities - war.

Thus these two powers dominated the hearts of Bera Shambala. The wordguild to bring the salvation of knowledge and education to the world, the warguild to tear it apart.

And thus it was.
And thus it is.
And thus so it shall be.



Chapter One
Toguran Loupaan was a confused individual. You had to be with one parent, the mother superior, the honourable chief member of the town's wordguild cult, and the other, the father dominant, an old fashioned Warsmith, bent on eternal dreams of conquest. Living with the two of them had become - well - quite insufferable, born with the power of a humility greater than that of mortal men. It had to be, for they warred with each other of a constancy greater than the fluidity of the tides of the ocean.

Toguran had a girlfriend. Say Duet. Say was a very attractive girl, and his mother always emphasised that with a very powerful name like 'Say' which was the heart of Word Power, she would indeed make a most excellent wife one day. Toguran didn't disagree. 'As long as she is good in bed,' was the summation of his father's wisdom on the issue, and so far Toguran had not been disappointed on that particular issue since the climax to his 16th years birthday party.

Toguran had a destiny with Mother Superior. To bring the power, knowledge and salvation of a good education to Bera Shambala. He did her no great honour - he was a dunce in school.

Toguran had a destiny with Father Dominant. Neither did he bring him any great honour - a ladybug was more threatening.

But Say Duet loved him, despite his great fears, and lack of bravery, and when he finally won her heart one particular night, in an adventure about to be chronicled, she verily agreed to be his wife.


Chapter Two
Skrag Cromento was a thick enough fella. He couldn't spell, could bearly speak with a mouthful of stutters usually eventuating, and he was none to pretty to boot. But he fancied Say Duet, and wanted her for his bed.

The night got along quite well, in the local Lord's lads birthday party, to which a number of the local underlings children did find invites. Skrag, a fighter, was fortunate, and so were Say Duet and Toguran Loupaan.

Skrag spent most of the night attempting to persuade the delicious say to the back parlour, but say refused, and Toguran, ever the wimp, felt safe enough not to interfere, nor would he, yet he trusted Say's loyalty anyway.

And then, coming into the main living room once more, when festivities around midnight were at their peak, Skrag pulled down his pants in front of all, an erect penis of 7 inches standing at attention, and said verily to his lady desired 'Wel, we, we, well, wel, well, ha ha ha ho how bb bb b b bout it, b b b b bab babe.'
Say looked, gasped, and was almost tempted.

But, for the first time in his life, Toguran became a man.

Firstly, words not normally within his power of speech, but taught incessantly since youth by mother superior sprang to his defense.

'I say, you son of a motherless goat. Your trivial, minor and indeed pathetic genitalia would make a squirrel embarrassed. They are indeed large - when compared with those of a gnat.'

Skrag looked at Toguran dumbfounded.

'Oh, you are too dense to understand my profound dialogue of eloquent wisdom. You really are a dunderhead, are you not,' he continued, again with a toffee nosed accent.
'I shall simplify.'

And then, his mother finally and rightfully proud of her son, his father's joy finally borne as well.

'Get your hands of my bitch, pigbrain.'

And Toguran, finding courage beyond himself, strode forward, grabbed Skrag's erect manhood, gave it an Almighty yank, punched him in the face, and that was the end of the trouble.

Toguran was Say's hero.

Chapter Three
4 years later, three little Loupaan's running around his new living room, Toguran was celebrating. He was now the chief man in the village when it came to the Wordguild, and he and his father were recruiting men to start a campaign to conquer life, the universe and everything.

For Say, her man's shagging abilities had notably improved since the illustrious day he came to her rescue, and she could now not wish for another.

Besides, with 3 children, a fourth on the way, and a herd of pigs out the back, what more could one ask for from a citizen of Yalth Tebrek, in the backwaters island of Sang? What more indeed.
The End


The Wild and the Wrathful
Bleatin Blattin was a curious young lad, of 14, hopeful to soon reach 15 and his inheritance, when, deemed of suitable enough age, the high priest of the cult of cockroach worship, the cockies, instructed his adherents to convert Bleatin, a suitable enough candidate, to the cult, in the hopes of finding a new priest for the local chapel. Bleatin was reluctant.

Severus Jander poked him. 'You are hardly a wise priest, Bleatin.'
'I am only an acolyte,' responded Bleatin dejectedly to the wild Severus' insult.
'Is not an acolyte at least to dress properly in fine cockie vestments?'
'Who cares,' responded Bleatin. 'I was forced into the religion by mommie.'
'Pathetic,' mocked Severus. Bleatin didn't care. Severus wandered off.

Mishnah caressed his arm. 'Don't worry about Severus. He is only jealous. His family are devoted Cockies - he probably wanted the job.'
'He can have it,' responded Bleatin, still unconvinced on his life's apparent calling.
'But the Cockroach created all and loves us,' responded Mishnah. 'And they serve us faithfully, eating our discarded waste. They are truly beautiful creatures.'
'Their dirty,' stated Bleatin honestly.
'Don't blaspheme,' warned Mishnah. 'The priests will cut your head off.'
'They can stuff themselves with cockroaches as far as I am concerned,' said the wrathful Bleatin.
Mishnah just sighed.

When he had reached 19, and appointed Priest of the Local chapel, Bleatin had had his fill of cockroach sermons. I mean, how many ways could you praise the wisdom of the humble cockroach anyway? And so, completely buggered with it all, he made his plan - get kicked out, and promote a successor.

It was the sabbath. Bleatin addressed the audience. He looked at Severus. 'You would make a good priest,' said Bleatin, looking at Severus. The audience clapped. 'The Cockroach knows, I can't bloody handle the job. I mean, how many ways can you praise a stupid insect.'
The audience went silent, shocked.
'They eat our waste. They are dirty and spread disease. They are hard to kill. They really are a noxious beast.'
The blasphemy was too much for the audience. Severus' father stood. 'You are not worthy of the calling of a Cockie Priest? You, you are a blasphemer.'
The people murmured agreement.
'What shall we do with him?' someone cried.
'Strip him of his vestments. And stick him in the shit,' said Severus from his seat of new power. Nobody disagreed.


4 days later, not really smelling too much any more, despite being in the bog for most of the afternoon, Bleatin was a relieved man. They didn't care about him anymore. Thank the cockroach for that.

Mishnah showed up, inevitably, caressed his arm, and said. 'Well, I do love the cockroach, and will always be faithful, but I think I can handle a heretic as wonderful as you. As long as you stay out of the shit,' she said, suddenly noticing a lingering smell.
I'll try,' said Bleatin, and Mishnah caressed him again.
The End


The Wishfaerie and the Warcry

Bera Shambala, once connected to the Nexus and thriving, long fallen into disuse by the powers of the Nexus, the experimental world deemed far more trouble than it was worth, for even the Nexus had scruples in the divine manipulations of probabilities they were involved in, was a hell of a planet.

Modeled on Olo Malan, Bera Shambala had been born in the 'Pool of Certainties' by the great 'Alpha-Wurm', to whom it was believed the siring of all decent and credible creations belonged to. Yet, the planetary body having come off the production line, the shapers of merriment, who had completed a 10,000 year secret surveillance of Olo Malan, decided, in their laboratorical genetic manipulations of the forebearers of Bera Shambala's great race of noble creations, to manipulate destiny, through the copulative instincts implanted in scientifically genetic sureties, for a sarcastic alternative creation to the majesty of Olo Malan - a mirror as it were - and utilize suggestive mind manipulation - indeed the voices of the gods - to achieve their hypothesized purposes.

Yet a good while back the voice of the great Alpha-Wurm had verily convicted the shapers of merriment of their nasty proleptic panderings, and they had simply left things be.

And now Bera Shambala produced ucanny resemblances to Olo Malanese culture, albeit with an ironic twist, on a regular, uncanny basis.


Druldruguser Dragonfart Douay was a bastard - quite literally - born out of wedlock, raised by a rather ugly prostitute with a famed missing front tooth and poor hygiene, Gelba Douay constantly assured the sensitive Druldruguser his father had been the most handsome and noble of men, despite Druldruguser intimately aware of the gutter class scum which employed mother's cheap, and quite nasty, services.

'I will now find my father,' said the boasting 16 year old. For he had gone to the pool of wishes, and spent a coin and prayed to the wishfaerie, and she had promised him his heart's deepest desire.
Gelba shrugged. He was off his head again.
'Were is he, mother?'
'Troldok. He is in the palace there.'

And so, taking off for the city of Troldok, 100 leagues up the highway hence northwards, he came to the palace of Troldok, sought entry into the duke's presence, and declared himself, in front of the nobles, son of the duke to the maiden Gelba Douay. The laughter from the court was, indeed, hysterical.
But the duke looked at this poor unfortanuate, noticed the familiar looks on his face, and said 'Indeed, scumlad, I think I can help you. Take him down to the shitman.'

So, being led away, out to the back arse of Troldok palace, he came into the presence of quite an odorous reality, the working quarters of the shitman, who dealt with the various body waste concerns of the palace of Troldok, for it infamously had no plumbing since the losing of a dispute between warring parties and a gamble lost, the loser forgoing plumbing for a three score years and ten, Druldruguser confronted a man, twice his age, yet his spitting image, arms covered in faeces, dealing with some revolting looking substance, who just smiled at him.
'Your Druldruguser, I take it,' said the man.
Druldruguser nodded miserably, staring aghast at his rather pathetic father in his. rather pathetic occupation.
'Well, don't worry too much about it. If you end up in the shit like me, the pay is not too bad in the end.'
And Druldruguser bellowed in a disappointed voice of war 'Dog's bloody Testicles!'
And the shapers of merriment would have smiled at this ironic encounter.

And the world turned.

And the world turned.

The End



The Wailer and the Wentigern



by
Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly




The Wailer inhabited the southern hemisphere of Bera Shambala and the Wentigern inhabited the western-northern hemisphere of Olo Malan.

Olo Malan, every fourth year, due to an ageold gravity belt put in place by an old Nexus governor, suffered a change in poles to mainly west by east, but sometimes north-west by south-east, the craziest of years according to scholars of Chi Ash Lan. Thus the four yearly 'Deep Freeze' of the cold west, with snow and ice everywhere,was sometimes altered by the graces of the Wentigern, which all Chi Ash Lan schoolchildren revered, the mythical force of spirit which gave occasional grace periods of warmer weather for the renowned cold west's reputation. The Wentigern was nothing more than a faulty electrical circuit a lazy Nexus programmer overlooked while preoccupied with some CGI of rather buxom ladies in quite scantily dressed clothing. The mistake had long gone overlooked.

The Wailer, on the other hand, was the power of Oracle all Southern Bera Shambalans knew and feared. A mechanical series of speakers raised throughout points on the primary southern continent, around which communities had long since arisen. They were nothing more than speaking modules for Nexus purposes to ultimately harvest employees From Bera Shambala, brute workers needed throughout the Nexus's sprawling civilizations for menial tasks, one of the core imperatives behind the original formation of Bera Shambala by the Alpha-WURM. Yet now, Bera Shambala long ago abandoned by the Nexus for such purposes as far more trouble than worth, the Wailer simply operated every century as a series of communications in some strange tongue, lasting four days, no single Bera Shambalan having a single clue as to the meaning of.

Togura Loupaan had heard of the Wailer, so, travelling to the southern continent of Bera Shambala, the member of both the wordguild and the warsmiths, stood there on judgement day, as it were, armed with his mother's impressive wordguild training, ready to decipher the mysterious messages at there centennial celebration. He waited, surrounded by other Bera Shambalan's, and when the Wailer started speaking, he wrote down, with the mastery of letters, as best he could, the complex communications of the Wailer. And. the four days completed, he returned home, sat with his mother, and the wordguild took an interest in the case personally. One word shone home. Nexus. And, after much deliberation by various wordguild upper hierarchical chiefs, they concluded that the term 'Graznog di Vidaris Summatraka' did approximately translate in the ancient tongues to 'Assemble on Mt Victory', Bera Shambala's highest mountain, never before scaled to completeness by any known manchild - or womanchild for that matter.

'Then it is settled,' said Vortag Tanumber, hierarchical elder in the Wordguild. 'We shall climb the unclimbable. And we shall hire the bravest souls in all of Bera Shambala to do the business for us.'
'Or the most insane,' muttered Togura Loupaan, knowing the treachery of such a proposed climb.
'And we have our first volunteer, don'twe Togura Loupaan?'
The room clapped Togura's selection, and his parent's, proudly looking upon their chosen son, could barely have noticed, midst the celebrations, the long scowl which had appeared on a very annoyed looking Togura Loupaan's face.
'Great,' he said sarcastically to himself. 'An early climb to death.' But the assembled only cheered all the more.




PLOT
Involves the full array of Bera Shambalan main characters as the chosen ones to travel through 'the machine'. They arrive in the Cold West during the Wentigern. Their job is reconnaissance, and the travel Olo Malan for five years, learning the languages and cultures. Near where the machine comes to rest when they are ready to return home the enable a Nexus data-archive transmission device, which send a series of core readings on weather patterns and other geographical readings back to the Nexus, who, after interpreting the data, send a team to make the correction which resulted in the Wentigern. After this there is travel between Bera Shambala and Olo Malan by the chosen ones. the chosen ones, in later books, are viewed as gods by the cold west for ending the Wentigern.