Heading Off Tom (2 Jul 2001) Agatha catches Tom trying to sneak off to the cave alone.

On the road to One-Eye's Hill
Miner's Road begins at US Highway 15, a big flattened circle where cars can pull up to the stop line and then turn off onto the broad beaten dirt road. Bushes and grass start a few hundred feet up a slope, gradually becoming the vegetation that surrounds and partially clothes One-Eye's Hill, and beyond, its cap stands bare against a background of green mountains. Danzwyck's Stables are down the road, on the left side. Ainigton proper starts a little distance to the south along US 15, with some stalls along the side of the road selling seasonal fruits, a few old storefronts, Jim's Fishing and Sports...

"Unicorns, monsters, hah!" mumbles Tom as he trudges alongside the road, his small backpack slung over his shoulder. "Why, I'll prove to them nothing is out there. First, I'm gonna find that area they supposedly saw the unicorn. I bet there's nothing there," continues Tom as he shifts his shoulder pack, trying to convince himself there really isn't anything to be afraid of.

Coming down Miner's Road from the stables, a second figure waves and calls out, "Hey Tom! Is that you?" It sounds like Agatha.

The sun is sinking in the sky, but there should be an hour or two left to go before it starts to really get dark. Angled like this, it makes Agatha's shadow long before her, and Tom's eye can make out that she's wearing a camping backpack, judging by the frame.

Tom halts. "Oh, crud," mutters Tom, "I thought I wouldn't run into anyone out this way. I just know I'm gonna get an earful about where I'm headed." He sighs, then waves back. "Hey there, Agatha. Yeah, it's me, all right."

Agatha breaks into a jog to catch up to the boy. "Hey, what're you doing out here this late? You're not heading back to the cave now are you?" she asks while trying to catch her breath.

Tom sighs softly and kicks a rock, looking down. "Well, not directly to the cave, no," he explains, "To places close by and see if there's any evidence of a monster or some such. Maybe even find Alice's earrings."

After looking at the setting sun, Agatha turns back to Tom and raises an eyebrow skeptically. "This late? Not much light left for finding anything. And looking down at your feet like that makes me think you're fibbing."

"Well, I don't have any intention of going into the cave. But if there was time, I might've," explains Tom as he continues to look down. "I mean, come on, there are no such things as monsters, right?"

"If you were sure of that, you wouldn't be looking for signs of one, right?" Agatha says with a smirk, and pokes the boy in the arm. "But if there are monsters, night time is not when I'd go looking for them. There're still badgers and coyotes and wildcats, after all."

Tom looks up, looking annoyed. "Oh, those I can handle. I've got my slingshot with me. And I am sure there aren't any." He pauses, looking over Agatha. "And why are you out here? With a camping pack, no less."

Straightening up, Agatha says, "I was out doing some work at the stables ... getting a few things for when we search the cave together. Also, I may have found the black horse from the woods." After a moment, she adds, "Possibly, anyway. And I met the man that bought the old manor house south of town."

Tom suddenly looks much more interested. "Really? There, that makes much more sense. I guess the man has horses at the manor, then?" asks Tom, then adds, "Wait, you mean that creepy old place, don't you? I'm surprised anyone would buy that."

Agatha nods. "He's got one horse anyway. He's a nice old retired guy with a beard, had a dog with named Kuon too, which is some old sort of word that means 'brave'. But he wasn't sure if his horse was loose last Saturday, although he said it wouldn't surprise him if it had gotten out and done some exploring."

Tom looks relieved as he says, "Well, good. I suppose that probably solves the mystery of the black horse, then. Now, we just need to find those earrings. Alice probably dropped them somewhere just outside the cave." He shifts his weight slightly then asks, "Think we have time to go look tonight?"

Agatha frowns and looks towards the sunset again. "Not enough time to make finding them likely, I think. I need to get home and get dinner started, too. Are you really set on going now? If you don't show up at school tomorrow because you've gotten yourself stuck in a hole, it'd really ruin my day."

A Coca-Cola truck drives into town, appearing in the distance as a red-and-white vehicle, the sidewall flashing by, then disappearing into the fringe of Ainigton. It can be heard to be pulling over at the fishing store, where presumably the driver would be offloading some cases for Jim.

"Oh yeah, I'd go and get myself stuck just to ruin your day," jokes Tom. "Well, I don't have to go today. I just want to resolve this. Alice is dead convinced that a unicorn is running about. I worry about that, I guess, and wanted to show her she just dropped her earrings and that nothing magical is going on. Magic doesn't really exist, after all." He grins and shrugs. "I mean, I enjoy this game we have going about sorceresses, knights, and explorers and so on. It's fun. Why, I can just picture the Golden Hawks being hired to search out this cave, after all; danger is their forte. But it's not real."

"I've been meaning to ask about them," Agatha says, and starts walking towards town again, hoping that Tom will automatically follow along to keep the conversation going. "Who are the Golden Hawks?"

Tom grins and shrugs. "Ya got me, really. I made the name up on the spot. I figure they'd be sort of a mercenary exploring group. Pay them enough and they'd chart dangerous areas. Or perhaps they wanted a small cut of anything they found. I figured I would've been the one who mapped new places. Perhaps we'd have a linguist, skilled in learning new languages of tribes they found. Perhaps an expert at fighting and defense, in case they were attacked." He rubs the back of his neck. "I just figured they'd be 'professional' adventurers, each having a particular skill that completed the group."

As the town grows closer, the Coca-Cola truck comes back into view. The driver is handing a wooden crate filled with about twenty-four or so of the familiar thin-necked glass bottles to Jim, who sticks them straightaway into an electric ice chest. After this, the driver hands a clipboard to Jim, who signs it and hands it back, and with a nod from each of them, the driver gets back into the truck and heads on into town -- most likely toward Lightfoot's Dry Goods, the general store for the town. A little past Jim's is Ms. Pimpernella's Boarding House, a dilapidated two-story building which lets out room to people passing through the town.

Agatha hmms. "Well, for the cave trip, maybe we should all play Golden Hawks then. That would make more sense than sending a sorceress and a princess into a dangerous dragon's lair, after all."

Tom glances over at Agatha. "Hey, not a bad idea! I suppose the princess could've hired them to locate her stolen jewelry and seek revenge for the vicious attack she experienced." He looks back towards the town and asks, "So, what sort of explorer would you want to play?"

Grinning, Agatha says, "Well, you mentioned the need for a fighter type. I could do that. Rebecca is a shoo-in for the linguist too."

Tom nods. "Very true. So, what do we do with Alice? I'm not sure where she'd fit, other than a medic. And do you think we can get her to go in the cave? How about Simon? Perhaps he's a lookout to keep watch while others explore."

"Or a thief," Agatha suggests as they pass the boarding house. "A good thief, that is. And Alice would certainly be an appropriate medic. She might go in if the rest of us do."

"Simon, a thief?" asks Thomas, "I don't know about that. I don't see him as very, uh, thief-y. I could be wrong, though. We should ask him what he'd want to play." He looks upward for a few moments. "And I hope the cave isn't how I imagined it in algebra class. That was creepy."

Furrowing her brow, Agatha suggests, "Well, maybe an arky ... uh ... arky-logical expert then. You know ... the guys that dig up old cities and stuff?"

Fortunately, no omens jump out, except for a slightly pudgy black cat with white paws and a white tummy -- a pattern often called a "tuxedo". The cat sits on the doorstep of Ms. Pimpernella's and watches the two Golden Hawks-to-be pass by, then cracks a long jaw-stretching yawn.

Tom waves to the cat, momentarily forgetting the cave. "Hello there, kitty!"

The cat regards Tom carefully, then pretends to have been looking at something else instead.

"Too bad I didn't take those fish-guts," Agatha says, watching the cat. "That cat probably would have liked them. I helped Richard -- he's the guy that just bought the old place -- I helped him catch a trout a little while ago."

Tom glances back at Agatha. "Really? What's he like? I'm curious what sort of strange old guy would buy that place."

Over the top of the buildings to the south can be seen, distantly, the clock tower of the town hall. It's four-sided so as to show the time to all quarters of the town, and indicates the time is 4:50 or so, to judge by the hands' relations to the old Roman numerals on the each face.

Agatha readjusts her pack slightly before answering. "He seemed okay. I think maybe he's from a big city though, and wanted to retire to the country. I mean, he was just learning how to fish, but it seemed like he'd had his horse and dog for a while. Talked a bit like a teacher, I thought."

Tom nods slightly as he observes the time. "Well, I hope he's really a nice guy and not some secret wizard or ghoul," says Tom, grinning. "Kidding. Such things don't exist. It's almost a pity he bought that old place. I always wanted to explore it and look for secret passages."

Glancing sidelong at Tom, Agatha asks, "Oh? I figured you'd have already been through the old Harcourt place. Weren't you ever dared to spend the night there?"

Tom shakes his head. "Actually, no. I guess people figured I would, so it wasn't as much of a dare. Oh well. Maybe the old guy will let us check it out sometime, anyway."

"Maybe, but he didn't sound keen on having any kids around," Agatha comments. "Talked about dangerous spots of rotting wood and the like. I didn't ask him if had any kids himself ... or even a wife. He must have a wife though, I think, 'cause who'd want to live in a big house all alone?"

Tom grins. "A vampire! Seriously, perhaps he likes quiet and being alone." He shrugs. "And I guess it is getting pretty late. I should probably head home soon so I won't be late for dinner. You can tell me more about him when we're heading up to the cave. We're still going there next weekend, right?"

Agatha nods. "I don't see why we can't. I'm already planning on having all my chores done on Friday so I'll have all day free Saturday."

Tom nods. "Say, you wouldn't have a baseball bat I could borrow, would ya? Better safe, after all." He quickly adds, "Not that I think monsters exist, mind you."

"Why do you think I'd have a baseball bat?" Agatha asks, even though she was on a softball team for a few days. "I was gonna try and get one of the old crowbars from our shed instead. That's more useful than a bat."

Tom ums and fidgets uncomfortably. "Well, because, um ... okay, because you're more like talking to a guy than a girl, okay? I figured you'd have one," he says, inching out of punching range.

Agatha snickers. "Well, you're a guy, so why don't you have a bat then, huh?" She doesn't seem too upset by the comment though.

Tom grins and shrugs. "I bought a Swiss-army knife instead. More useful for camping and building forts. I will be grabbing some more rope, chalk, and batteries before we go. I figure that will be pretty useful."

"Yeah, especially the chalk," Agatha agrees. "We can write 'Golden Hawks wuz Here!' at the bottom of the cave then, besides marking turns and stuff."

Tom laughs and shakes his head and says, "You're odd, Agatha. Cool, too." He glances over at her. "So tell me, what do you think is going on, really?"

Agatha stares ahead for awhile, just walking. "I don't know," she finally admits. "I mean, it could have been a regular horse out in the woods now. But that doesn't explain what Alice saw in the Siege, and what we found there. She went right to the hoof print and the scrape, and those sure weren't imaginary."

"I even asked Richard if he rode his horse through town, and he said he went around, out by Wolf Run, to get to the river," she adds.

Tom nods, then shrugs. "Yeah, but we were in the park previously. Perhaps she saw it then, and thought that Lord Mel must've caused it while she was daydreaming in class. Unicorns don't exist. Magic doesn't exist. This is the real world, right?" says Thomas, trying to convince himself as much as elicit a response.

"Just the same, I got us some horseshoes," the tall girl says. "They're protection against faerie creatures, according to my mother. And she grew up in Ireland, where things are maybe a little less real at night, and in certain places."

The two turn left onto Main Street, toward the houses in the distance. Here where Stevenson meets Main Street, the Town Hall sits on the south side, a colonial style building with whitewashed walls crisscrossed by dark wooden beams, and a wide lawn on its front faces toward Government Circle and the fountain in the middle. Foxworthy's Sweets and Kia's Restoration are about a block past that.

"I thought all iron was supposed to protect you against fairies. Shouldn't the crowbar be enough?" asks Thomas.

Pausing at the intersection, Agatha says, "We can't all carry crowbars, and horseshoes are easier to hide or hang up at home, in case ... you know ... something follows us out."

Tom cringes inwardly at that thought. "So, um, what do you know about faeries? What are they supposed to look like?" inquires Thomas. "Just out of curiosity, I don't believe in them," explains Tom and he adjusts his beret, keeping it from slipping off.

Agatha marshals her thoughts. "Well ... there are, like, elves and unicorns. They're pretty obvious right? But I don't know what others might look like. I know what a banshee does, but not what it looks like ... or a balrog or some of the other nasty kinds. I mean, if you saw one it was pretty much too late anyway."

As the clock ticks closer to five, the traditional time when grown-ups get out of work and head home, some cars begin to be seen on the roads. The sidewalk is wide and clear around Government Circle, and luckily the walk buttons and stoplights are new, having been installed a few years ago, so there's no danger in crossing the street as long as one does what one is supposed to. The bronze boy (dressed in frayed pants) on the fountain stares blindly toward the southwest, toward the Town Hall, and holds a trout-like fish which gurgles water into the waiting basin. Putting a penny into the fountain and wishing is a common practice, but the legend is that you only know the wish will come true if the boy winks at the time you throw the penny.

Tom hmms. "I've heard of a banshee. What's a balrog?" He glances about the town, watching the streets become more active. "Gotta get back soon, or Mom and Dad will wonder where I'm at," he murmurs to himself.

"And that's just old country faeries," Agatha says. "Who know what kinds they have out here? We'd have to find an Indian or someone like that who'd know. I don't really remember what a balrog is ... just that it was something nasty. I'd better hurry home now, too."

Tom grins. "Maybe we're better off not knowing. You know, if you think of it, it'll come and all that." He glances down the street and says, "My home isn't far from here. I'm gonna go ahead and run the rest of the way. I'll see ya again this weekend. And thanks -- you were right, I was going to go into the cave." He grins and winks, then hurries off down the road toward home.

Agatha just shakes her head and grins. "Figures he would." She starts jogging down Main towards her own street as well.

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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.