Allies and Adversaries (10 Feb 2002) Tom meets an old friend.

With no conveniently handy cave nearby, the travelers have been forced to pitch tents in a reasonably wind-blocked part of the woods, and to clear snow off the ground for some distance to ensure that they've a place for their fire. With a ground sheet in place, tents erected and pegged into place, a fire close to hand with enough thick logs to keep it going for the night, and pads of thick cloth as insulation for their sleeping bags, and downy blankets atop these as well, the temperature within these tents just begins to be comfortable enough for sleep.

Judging from the snores of Sir Lefallon on the other side of this tent and the quiet from Rachel in her own tent, they have already dropped off to sleep. But that precious thing as yet eludes Thomas, as he thinks back over the events of the past days. Years, perhaps, if he includes the Bandit-Queen, whom he half-expected to find in these parts.

Sleep is almost, almost within his grasp ... and then there is a piercing cry from outside, and the sounds of wings beating. Something is flying, and Thomas hasn't seen a bird aloft for quite some time. Not since he sent that messenger hawk off to Lord November....

A cry answers it from outside, and there is flapping from the cage which holds the messenger hawk that Tom had carried along in case one might be needed. Horses whicker, unsettled.

"Never fails -- just about to fall asleep and something interrupts," Tom mumbles as he sits up. Even though he doesn't want to get out of the sleeping bag, he does so and quickly dresses to face the cold outside. "I hope something's just spooking the hawk," he comments as he straps on his sword, then goes to peer out of the tent.

The young Sir Lefallon turns over in his sleep and mutters, "Cold..," as the tent flap promptly lets in some of the biting chill outside. Outside, there is a shadowy forest, limned by the moon into a succession of silhouettes, and above, the whistling sounds of two things moving through the air at high speed. The other one cries out this time, a bone-rattling "KRAWK!"

"Nnngh," Tom groans and slips out of the tent and into the cold. He looks upward and ponders, "Just more birds, looks like. I wonder -- could they be messengers, too? I wonder whom for?" He shrugs and watches for a moment, unsure if he should try to call to them.

Moonlight shimmers against the birds' wings, and as they come around, their outlines make it possible to identify them at last. One is a messenger hawk, and there is something that shines tied to its foot, something round. The other is a skull-headed crow or raven, diving after the first.

The wind nips painfully at Tom's hands and feet. In weather this cold, he's kept his socks and woolen gloves on, but they aren't offering much protection against the snow-flecked ground.

Thomas tries to whistle out and call down the birds. He then draws out his sword, prepared to defend the messenger from the skull-headed bird. Probably a servant of Jack, he thinks.

The hawk, alerted by Thomas's call, shoots down toward him! The skull-faced crow swoops down after him ... and squawks with alarm as a silvery blade strikes! One of its wings explodes into a collection of dry rattling yellowed bones, and feathers, as the bird smacks against a tree. There is frantic cawing from the caged hawk, as it greets its brother, who perches upon a fallen log near the smoldering fire.

The message on its leg is evident now: a small white disc of some sort.

Thomas takes the edge of his cloak and wraps it around his arm a few times, again reminded how cold it is out here. He holds out that arm to the hawk so it can land. His eyes then dart toward where the other bird smacked against the tree, trying to see if whatever it is still alive.

The messenger hawk hops and then flutters over to land on Thomas's arm, its claws digging into his cloth-sleeved arm, though several layers of cloth buffer the talons.

As Thomas glances over to the other bird, the skull-faced crow moves feebly, and then with a sudden move, tips over to look at Thomas directly. Tiny red sparks glimmer in the eye-cavities of its head. "Rawk!," it caws in that way that suggests dry bones tumbling about within leathery skin.

"One of Jack's servants?" Thomas inquires of the fallen bird, his green eyes narrowed.

"Rawrrrk!" It crouches and looks baleful, as if to suggest dire punishments at hand for its injurer.

Thomas makes his way over to the fallen creature, trying to ignore the freezing cold biting at him. He lowers his sword, bringing the blade-tip level with the creature's head. He then glances around briefly, looking for something in which to cage this creature. It could be useful proof for the Lords of the Houses.

The messenger hawk glares downward at it, flapping its wings, claws digging into Tom's forearm as if about to launch itself to attack.

Thomas makes a decision: this creature knows where he is and therefore cannot be allowed to escape and alert others. He strikes swiftly and coldly with the blade. "Begone with you, servant of evil," he comments grimly.

The skull shatters instantly, and the bird collapses into a feathered heap. The newly arrived hawk calms, then looks over to Thomas alertly.

The blade slips silently back into its scabbard. "Come on, let's go back to the tent and warmth. Then we'll see what your note says, eh?" he tells the hawk, then makes his way back to the tent.

snore Lefallon continues to sleep inside the relative warmth of the tent.

Tom slips back into the tent and sighs, "There, better." His attention then returns to the hawk and he says, "Now, lets see what you've got." He reaches out slowly to the hawk's message, ready to pull away if it decides to strike.

The hawk remains steady -- messenger hawks undoubtedly have to be tolerant of this sort of procedure -- and the disc drops into Thomas's hand.

The message is a smooth white disc with a stylized "N" in gold across the front. As Thomas's thumb brushes across this, an image forms above the disc -- Agatha's head! She begins, "You'd better not have left Destre--" As his hand jerks with surprise, his thumb dropping off of the "N," the head fades away again.

Sir Lefallon stirs in his sleep a moment, muttering something unintelligible.

Thomas blinks a couple times. "Heh. 'N,' for Nymuae -- figures," he mutters. He places his thumb carefully back onto the disc, figuring this is some sort of bizarre message from Agatha.

Agatha's head forms again. She speaks, "You'd have better not left Destre all alone back home! Anyway, I got your letter, thanks. I'm sending you the information that Alice and I found out from October, so hopefully you'll have a better idea of things when you add it to what you've already found out."

Lefallon blinks blearily up at Thomas, turning over to face him. "I thought I heard ... Redmane?"

"It seems we've been sent a message from her," Tom comments to Lefallon. "Anyway, hold on. She's sent more information. Let's see what it is." His thumb doesn't leave the disc.

Sir Lefallon nods, rubbing his eyes and trying to wake up. Meanwhile, Agatha's voice continues. "There are a few other things as well. While at October's, Alice and I experienced an odd rippling of reality, as if everything sort of went flat and flapped around like a flag in the wind for a moment. We were the only ones to notice it; not even Nymuae felt anything. Only one other person had any reaction at all; a tree-boy that said he felt as if he'd lost someone close to him. Not sure what the significance of this is, but if you felt anything similar, it could be important.

"I'm sending Alice to the Palace to see what she can find out from the Queen, and hopefully get the Houses mobilized for defense. I have a strong feeling that repeating the past will lead to failure, so I urge you to wait for me to join you before venturing on into the Icejaw Pit. I hope to learn more about what happened to us before, and there's a chance I can locate a witness in the Green Hills.

"Wait for me, Tom! I mean it!" A frown and then just before Agatha begins to get up, she adds, "P.S. Hannah's coming with me." And with that, she stands, a swirling of cloth past a pinhole, and then Nymuae's face appears over the disc instead. She opens her mouth, about to speak.

Thomas expression grows grim at seeing Nymuae. As much as he doesn't care for her, he leaves his thumb on the disc. Might as well hear what she has to say.

"Lord Explorer Thomas." Nymuae is looking ever so formal, Sorceress to Lord Explorer. "The most potent weapon of the Year's End is the divisiveness of his foes. I urge you, do not play into his hands by venturing alone to his stronghold. Last time, you refused the aid of all your friends because they did not believe you. This time, your friends believe, if only you will give them time to join you.

"Redmane and Hannah are coming to reinforce you, and the knight brings potent weapons to your cause. I ask of you only this: heed her words. Let the past serve as warning against repeating it!" The sorceress pauses, and makes a gesture off to the side.

"I'm surprised. She didn't tell me to give up my quest," Tom comments, still not letting go.

A sheaf of pages appears next to the disc. They look watery, but Nymuae explains that they can be leafed through as would ordinary pages, as long as Thomas continues to hold the disc. These pages contain what Agatha and Alice learned about the Year's End, and what Agatha further learned about Lady Redmane.... There looks like a considerable amount of information to be gone through.

Lefallon looks amazed at the whole thing. "A message disc from the Lady Sorceress? I didn't know she could do things like that!" He looks curious to know what is contained within, but from the vantage point currently offered, cannot see more than the back of the sheets.

Thomas sighs. He then begins reading through the pages. "It's information the others have obtained in their stay here. Looks to be a decent amount. I wonder how that hawk even found us way out here," Thomas tells Sir Lefallon.

"November's hawks have a certain magic," Sir Lefallon says. "No one knows if they were bred that way or if it's some kind of magic they work on their birds, but they can generally find whomever it is you want a message sent to, if there isn't obscuring magic being worked to--"

"What a bunch of bull," a voice comments from nearby. "Nymuae just wants to make sure you don't have all the fun and take all the glory yourself. Just like last time." The silhouetted figure of a man is visible against the firelight that shines against the tent flap, though it looks strange somehow, as if the light were shining through the man.

Thomas releases the disc for now and turns his attention to the figure. "Is that so?" Thomas inquires. "And who might you be?"

The stranger chuckles, and the voice sounds strangely familiar. "I'm not one for talking through tent flaps, but that's just not the Tom I knew, sitting still for all that sorcerous nonsense," it says. He crouches down and makes a "knock, knock" gesture against the flap, though his hand never touches the tent for all the impact it has.

"The Tom you must've known was from fourteen Years ago. I am much older now," comes Thomas' reply. He draws his sword, then eases back the tent flap with it, eyes narrowed.

Nearby is a familiar-seeming man dressed in armor of what seems to be thin scales of a dark-hued material, though the color is impossible to tell in moonlight, a cloak hanging over his shoulders. Both armor and cloak have been pierced by terrible rents, and he stands, pained, as if forcing himself upright despite his wounds. A sword is belted at his side and his boots are knee-high, bearing a golden hawk sigil at the curved top which protects the kneecap. Firelight shines faintly behind him ... through him.

Sir Lefallon has begun to get out of his sleeping bag as well, his hand to the sword that has been laid next to it. It pays not to be too far from one's weapons in the wilderness. "He's a ghost," he whispers to Thomas.

"My gods -- Randall, is that you?" Thomas utters, staring at the ghost in shock. If he heard Sir Lefallon's comment, he shows no sign of it.

"It's a long story, Thomas," Randall says. "Let me make it a short one. I'm dead, but you figured that one out already. I put up a pretty good fight, when I was holding a watch tower by myself so the rest of the Hawks could get away with the girl, but the Trolls captured me and brought me back to the Destroyer's Keep. I managed to escape, and found a secret back way into the Keep from Icejaw Pit, but one of the cursed Jruuh got me on the way back. I didn't even see the blasted thing." He shakes his head.

Randall sits painfully, trying to find a position that won't cause him to hurt too much.

"You never do," Thomas replies. "That's what makes them effective." His expression then wavers and he says, "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you when you needed help."

Randall jokes, "I knew it was dangerous when I took the job on, Tom." His face sobers. "You set the example for me back when you were running the Hawks. The captain takes the risks. When it was down to us needing time before the Troll hordes overwhelmed us, and not being able to put the princess at risk, well, there was only one thing I could do."

Sir Lefallon watches with morbid fascination, but Randall's appearance does not appear familiar to him.

Thomas nods and he replies quietly, "Yes. Sometimes a sacrifice has to be made for the good of the many. I was never one who would sacrifice someone else -- only myself." He pauses for a moment, the says, "This wasn't how I hoped we would meet again, Randall. You, gone, myself with a lifetime lost. What brings you here now?"

"Actually, there was something I was hoping you could help with," Randall says quietly.

"You only have to ask, old friend. If I can help, I'll try," Tom replies.

Randall continues, "Being dead isn't a lot of fun unless you're buried right, so then you can go on to judgment. For a long time though, I was pretty sure no one whom I knew well enough to talk to was going to head this far out into the Wild Lands. What I need is for someone to head down there, find my body, though I'm pretty sure it's been pretty well chewed on by cave scavengers if not Jruuh..." He grimaces, not wanting to think about it too hard. "... and give me a proper burial. There are a few problems along the way, though, I'll tell you that up front."

"This is the Icejaw Pit you fell in? Well, I am headed in that direction as it is. I've got unfinished.... You don't need to hear about that. Even if I wasn't going that way, I would change plans for you," Thomas replies. He then offers a bit of a smile and jokes, "I bet you never expected it would be me making it out this way again, did you? How did you find me?"

Randall taps the side of his head. "Dead men hear things, Tom. I had a feeling you were back from beyond the grave somehow, and then when I saw November's hawk clashing with the Jack's crow, well, I knew it meant something." He glances toward the back of the tent, his eyes squinting against a light that Thomas can't see; it's only dark back there to him. "Besides that, you're traveling with something I could sense from miles away. Even if I hadn't been looking for you, I'd have still figured something was going on."

Sir Lefallon looks taken aback. "The Grail," he whispers to Thomas. "If he's right ... it must be like a beacon or something."

"Point taken," Thomas replies with a nod. "What problems lie ahead, then?" Tom inquires.

Randall nods. "Well, biggest problem is this, the Jack's got his agents out searching for you, Tom. You saw one of them just a little while ago, but he's got others, and not just crows. If you want to get by them without getting caught, you're going to have to start traveling by night. And probably without these flatfoots of yours. You're pretty sneaky, but them? That and whatever you've got in there, you might as well hang out a sign, 'Kill me and rob me in my sleep.'"

Sir Lefallon looks put out by this comment, but can't find it in him to be able to contest the claim that he isn't in Tom's class for stealth.

"He knows I'm here, does he? Good. I want him to. I want to tip his hand early," Tom comments. "But, travel alone? I'm not willing to make that mistake twice. I did that once before and ..." He stops and shudders. "I can't even remember what happened, yet it fills me with dread."

"And the back way I was talking about.... There really is a dragon in the Icejaw Pit. He's safe if he's sleeping, but the way it looks is, even one person moving as quietly as you or I can is going to disturb him, and two or more, like your friends?" Randall shakes his head skeptically, then gives Tom a sympathetic look. "By the way, I have to say, I'm sorry that we held you back last time. Now that I know there is a back way in, maybe if we'd taken the time back then to look around, we could have found it...." He shakes his head. "We held you back because we were afraid, Tom. Nymuae couldn't even say why we shouldn't go! You were the only one of us who wasn't afraid then."

Sir Lefallon looks at Thomas hesitantly. "Maybe I should take the Grail back to Hawksmoor, milord," he says quietly. "It'll only broadcast our presence if we take it along with us.... You can go on ahead without me, you and Rachel."

"Well, I've always tried to refuse to fear what is unknown. Or, even I was afraid -- I never let it stop me from acting," Tom admits. He then turns toward Sir Lefallon and says, "And let you, alone, get waylaid on the way back? No, I think we either continue together or abandon together."

"And by the by, was the dragon called Monitor, Randall?" Thomas inquires shortly thereafter.

Randall smiles a bit, sadly. "Ah, Thomas. I knew that deep down, you'd always stick with your friends rather than abandon them. We counted on that when we turned back, because we didn't have a chance in Hell of keeping you with us if you really wanted to go." He shakes his head. "As to that, I can't say. I didn't want to wake it up and risk its displeasure. Huge beast though, and made all of iron, with spiky bits sticking out all over. My skin was crawling when I passed it by."

Sir Lefallon sits up a little more. "I'm a knight," he reminds Thomas. "You don't need to protect me. I'm more worried that you'll need another sword if it comes to a fight, and if I'm not there."

"And may I remind you that the once Bandit Queen is still out here, Sir Lefallon? What if she were to find you alone on these roads?" Thomas asks. "She'd just as likely shoot you in the back, than ignore you. In any event, I don't intend to fight anything. This is a rescue mission, not a revenge one." His attention returns to Randall and he says, "How long were you trapped in the Keep? Did you learn much while you were there?"

"Isn't she supposed to be repented?" Sir Lefallon points out -- though the point does still hit home, because there might be more bandits who fled the cleansing of the Golden Woods.

Randall shakes his head. "I can't remember how long exactly. They did terrible things. They wanted to know about the Hawks and about the Princess, and I struggled to hold out, and it took so long for me to scratch enough mortar out to..." He clutches a hand to his heart, shuddering. "Thomas, beware! He's trying--"

Thomas lurches forward, hand stretched out to his old friend. "Randall!"

Sir Lefallon's hand draws his sword halfway. Silvery metal gleams in the firelight.

The apparent seizure passes and phantom sweat beads on Randall's forehead. "The Destroyer is trying to claim my spirit, force me to serve him," he says in a whisper. "Until I'm buried properly, I can't find rest, and my spirit is vulnerable to his grasp. Tom, you must...."

Thomas hand stops partway toward his old friend. "Must find rest for your soul? Gods, old friend, if I could find a way to save you -- to return you to life, I would," Tom replies plaintively. "I will do whatever it takes to help you."

Randall's hand reaches out to Thomas's.... It feels solid. "Come alone by night and I will be your guide past the Jack's sentries and the Icejaw's perils," he whispers insistently. "If you come with others, it will be your death and theirs, and I must have those on my conscience as well. I don't think that I could survive the Destroyer's assault then. You can do this, Tom. You must."

Sir Lefallon looks worried. "I don't like this, milord," he mutters, hand still on his half-drawn sword.

Thomas' expression is torn and pained. "I ... I can't just abandon them, Randall. They've willingly gone with me this far. To just dismiss them now, after everything we've been through.... Have faith in my judgment and their skills on this? At least they could journey to Icejaw with me. If things look grim from there, they could wait as a second wave for extracting us should things go bad?" His green eyes peer into the ghost's eyes, searching, hoping that the Destroyer isn't already using his friend to just get him alone ... again.

At first, there is Randall's dark eyes looking back at him, and then through the pupils of Randall's eyes, blackness, as if he were seeing through Randall to the night behind... and then a skull, faint, far away in the darkness -- but unmistakably a skull. Randall's hand tenses on Tom's, and it occurs to Thomas that a ghost isn't solid.

Thomas pulls his hand back hard. His other moves to his sword as he calls out, "Lefallon, draw your blade, now!" His eyes narrow, his face filling with anger as he asks, "Who are you, really?"

"Randall ... Wraith in the service of the Destroyer, old friend," the ghost says as he draws his sword and prepares to stab at Thomas. Sir Lefallon is quick to draw his own sword, and advances quickly to Thomas's side, but not quickly enough to be able to block the first strike....

Thomas reacts instinctively thanks to Genji's training. He rolls gracefully to the side, careful to maintain grip on his sword as he does so. Moments later, he's on his feet and wielding his blade in front of himself. "Forgive me, Randall," Thomas pleads in a whisper and strikes down with his blade, trying to knock the wraith's weapon from its grasp.

The blade slices across Randall's arm but not deeply enough to do damage; some black stuff begins to drip from the wound. Randall curses and swaps his sword to his other hand, then backs so that Thomas is between himself and Sir Lefallon, though the young knight immediately begins circling around, biting his lip at the cold, to bring him back to a position where he can launch an attack....

The wraith slashes at Thomas's side: a feint. The true attack comes a second later, as he pulls his blade back and then thrusts forward at Thomas's eyes!

Thomas steps back quickly and swipes his blade upward to deflect the attack with the flat of his sword blade. "Blast it, Randall, you're stronger than he is! Fight him!" Thomas pleads as he tries to defend himself.

The blade skims close to Tom's forehead ... so closely, in fact, that he could swear he felt a hair be clipped by the attack. Randall's sword hilt clangs against Tom's blade. The wraith looks into Thomas's green eyes and for a long time, there is silence, as Sir Lefallon waits for Tom's sign, not wanting to disrupt his concentration. At last, Randall whispers, "Kill me now. I will rise again, and we will meet again. But kill me now." And something about it feels like a heartfelt plea.

Agony spreads over Tom's face and he swallows. A single tear runs down Thomas's cheek and a whisper follows, "Forgive me." Thomas nods quietly to Lefallon, then moves to the side and brings his over hand up to support against the flat of the blade. Quickly, he tries to rotate his sword and get Randall's sword to slide along it and slam into the ground.

For a moment, it feels like Thomas wasn't going to be able to keep the blade away, even with both hands brought to bear ... and then he drew up strength from some hidden reserve and swung his sword around, forcing Randall's blade into the ground where it bit deep into the earth. And with a cry, Sir Lefallon lunges forth and impales Randall, struggling to recover his sword, through the heart.

Randall lets go the sword to clutch his chest. He looks down, and then up at Thomas steadily. "Aye, your friend struck well and true," he says. Black wells up from the wound around the blade, puddling at his feet, and yet Randall does not show the pain as he salutes. "We will meet again, True Thomas. The Destroyer has me well in his grasp. But mark my words, for not all of them were lies."

His form grows ghostlier, his substance leaking away.

"I will free you from his grasp, my friend. This I promise you," Thomas says, trying to hold himself strong as he watches his friend "die." His green eyes lock on the wraith's eyes and he raises his blade to salute back. "I will remember all you told me. You tell the Destroyer that there is no Hell he can hide in that will protect him from me. I will hunt him until time itself ends -- for the pain he has caused Mirari -- and for the pain he has caused you."

"Aye, I'll do that," comes the ghostly response, and then there is nothing at all on the blade which Sir Lefallon is holding out with a grim look in his face. Nor is there a sword embedded in the ground, nor even black ichor puddling on the ground. It is as if no one had been there at all.

The wind blows icily through the forest. In the fuss, the arriving messenger hawk seems to have taken off again. The caged one warbles fretfully.

Once the wraith has gone, Thomas' strength leaves him. He collapses, landing hard on his knees. His sword embeds itself into the ground and he leans on the hilt heavily, head bowed. His raven hair obscures his face, but beneath it small drops of water hit the ground noiselessly.

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.