Pelles of Caer Bannuac Tuesday (15 Sep 2001) Tom has a visitor while he's working in his back yard.

The Winthrope Household
A moderately sized two-story home that sits far back on a wooded lot on the edge of town. It has been painted ivory, with a trim of dark brown, and numerous windows of the classic sliding frame sorts adorn the upper floor, two per room, with much the same for the lower floor save for one large bay window. A full covered porch spans the front, complete with a swing hanging from two chains. Some oak and pine trees surround the house, one practically close enough to brush the house with its leaves.

Beneath the shade provided by the trees surrounding the Winthrope household, Tom shuffles through a stack of papers detailing the designs he and his father came up with. His father has quite gotten into this, which means his mother spends a great deal of time reminding him that it's Tom's project.

"Yes," Tom murmurs, "I think the idea of sections bolted together and to the base is a good idea. That way we can take it down if we need to, no harm to the tree. Let's see, there was the idea about the fold-down upper wall into a balcony. Guess I should measure out the boards we salvaged. If Dad isn't home soon, I can always use the hand-saw. Mom freaks when I use the power one."

There is the familiar clinking of dishes in the kitchen, and the running of the faucet. Mrs. Winthrope, rather than going out to Danzwyck Stables, has made today a house-chores day -- and, of course, it just happens to mean that she's around while Tom is using all these dangerous tools.

However, Tom catches a sound that isn't from dishes being moved about in the sink, though it doesn't quite register at first. It's a jingling noise, like something metal on a small chain.

Tom looks back toward the house and grumbles. "She doesn't trust me at all, staying home to keep an eye on me," he mutters, grinning. His mouth then snaps shut and he looks about, thinking ... CAT!

*crush* *rustle rustle* *crush crush* The sound of small paws making their way through foliage can be heard amongst the trees.

Tom stands very still, eyes sweeping the yard looking for ... Bragwaine! She wears that pendant, after all.

The rustling goes silent ... but then, as Tom scans the trees, he catches a glimpse in the shadows of the pines -- a pair of crossed eyes.

Tom promptly sticks his tongue out at the pair of crossed eyes and says, "I see you, cat."

The eyes vanish, followed by more rustling ... and then a light-grey form lopes out from underneath the pine boughs, toward the side of the house, at a pace that's not running, but about as fast as walking would take a cat. *jingle jingle jingle*

Tom sits down cross-legged and rests his chin on his palm. His fingers tap slowly on his cheek. "My my, what a surprise to see you again. Spying as usual, huh, Bragwaine?" He then adds, "What exactly are you? Are you a shifter from Mirari?" He then blinks and slaps the side of his head. "Tom, get a grip, you're talking to a cat"

The cat, despite the attention Tom gives it, does not answer, and instead slips out of sight, bouncing off into the foliage again, with a crunching of long-dead leaves, and vanishing into the undergrowth about the house.

"Tom, old boy, you're losing it. You really are," he mutters to himself and goes back to looking over the papers. Occasionally he looks back up in the direction the cat vanished, curiosity pulling at him.

The cat doesn't present itself again. There's no trace of the cat, no sign that it was ever really there at all, save for Tom's memory of the event. His ears tease at him, now and then, that he can hear that same jingle, very faintly ... but maybe it's just the wind chimes in the front yard. They're supposed to do that, after all. But then, about the time that he's certain he's just imagining it, he hears a chime again -- except that this time, it's most certainly the doorbell. There's a soft chink of a dish being set down in the kitchen, and the roll of the hand-towel being taken down to dry wet, soapy hands, and Tom's mother's shoes on linoleum as she exits the kitchen to walk to the front door, the sound blending into the rustle of leaves as a breeze stirs the boughs.

A few scattered clouds blow overhead, though the sky is mostly bright blue. It's warm outside, but not terribly so, especially now that the sun is well past noon, and the trees flanking the yard provide shade from its excesses. Scents intermingle of sawdust and pine needles, earth and oil for the tools.

Tom shrugs slightly, getting back to the matter at hand. He figures some friend of his mom stopped by; probably someone from Danzwyck Stables. He gets back to his feet and walks over to the toolbox and retrieves the tape-measure, a T-square, and a pencil and heads over to the stack of two-by-fours to start measuring boards to match the sizes scribbled in his notes.

It's unclear how much time passes, but it seems that he barely manages to start measuring the next board before he hears footsteps again, and then the creak of the back screen door. "Tom?" his mother calls. "You have a visitor."

Tom looks up. "Huh?" He completes marking the board he's measuring and sets down the tools. He pauses to dust off his knees and hands, then walks toward the house. "Who is it?" he asks.

"Sabrina Winters," his mother replies. "She's the niece of John and Loren. She's staying with them for a few weeks with her brother, Max. He's the boy with the ..." She pauses here, as if catching herself on a matter of propriety. "You might have seen them at church."

"Oh yeah, I've met Maximillan and Sabrina," Tom calls back. "Ran into Max at the library the other day. Quiet, but nice," Tom adds, walking toward the house. "Why is she here? Should I come in, or is she coming back here?"

"Well, I couldn't just let her come back here without your permission, since I know this is supposed to be a secret of yours," Tom's mother says, somewhat more quietly, though without any touch of melodrama beyond that this time around, "but she was just coming by and asking if 'Tommy could come out and play'." She raises an eyebrow curiously. Perhaps it's because little girls don't usually drop by and ask if "Tommy" can come out and play.

"Geez, I'm becoming popular," comments Thomas and he looks at his mother. "I dunno why she's here. I met her once out in the woods, wandering. She's very silly and is probably trying to embarrass me to get revenge for scaring her. I'll be right in." With that, he walks opens the back door and steps inside. "She in the living room?" he asks his mother.

Mrs. Winthrope nods. Her answer is confirmed easily enough by a peek around to the front room, where he can see a little girl in well-worn jeans, a T-shirt that has a cartoon cat under the title "PURRFECT", an oversized plaid shirt over that, and a couple of oversized bows tying her hair in "dog ears". She looks about the living room curiously, kicking her legs absently, twiddling her thumbs.

Tom washes his hands in the kitchen sink, then grabs a towel and heads to the living room. "Hey, Sabrina, what brings you out this way?" he asks as he dries his hands with the towel.

Sabrina stops kicking her legs, and frees up her hands to wave one at Tom. "Hiiii!" she says. "I was wanting to know if you are busy? I heard from Cathy that you know everything about town, and all the neatest places to see and all. I've just been looking around, and wondered if maybe you knew about any really neat places to look at."

Tom coughs softly, sounding almost like a "meow!" and grins. "Yeah, I do know lotsa cool places around town. Anything in particular you're really interested in? If you like reading, the library here is cool. Town square has the most unusual layout around. There's the outlying forests. Lotsa cool stuff out there too. Plus, there's always cool places like Kia's if you like old junk, or Foxworthy's if you like ice-cream." he says.

"Oh, anything would be fine," Sabrina says. "Whatever you think is neat!" She smiles brightly.

Tom's mother, standing in the doorway, notes, "If you go anywhere, Tom, don't forget that your father will be home in about an hour or so. That's not terribly long to go exploring -- unless you want to make a change in plans."

Tom looks at the girl skeptically for a moment. He then looks to his mother. "Yeah, that's right. Do you think he'd mind delaying until after dinner? I don't mind giving someone a tour around town; lots of things to see. Plus, it gives me a short rest. Building is so much harder than climbing trees." He grins.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind, Tom," his mother says, smiling. "I think it's very nice of you to show someone new around."

Tom nods. "Yeah. I know how much crud you get when you're new. Especially with Boris around. What a jerk. He was after Simon. That's how I met Simon, after all." He turns to the girl. "Looks like you've got a tour guide."

A look of realization crosses Tom's face, and then he turns back to his mother briefly. "Sorry, Mom. But Boris is really mean to others. I should watch what I say, though."

A smirk forces its way through Mrs. Winthrope's attempt to make a sternly disapproving look. She shakes her head. "I'll go back to getting the dishes finished. It's nice to see you again, Sabrina."

"Thanks for letting me stop by!" Sabrina says, giving another one of her too-cute smiles, as Tom's mother leaves the front room.

Tom internally kicks himself. I shouldn't talk like that around my mom! Ah well.... His eyebrow raises at the disgustingly cute smile and he shakes his head slightly. He walks to the front door. "So, shall we go?"

The girl hops up. "Yes, let's!" she says, and rushes to the door, even before Tom can get to it and hope to do the gentlemanly thing, and bangs the screen door slightly as she bounces out to the porch and jogs down the front steps.

Tom shakes his head. "Oy," he mutters to himself. "No soda for her." He follows along, watching her curiously and says, "Nice to see you again." He rubs his hands together. "So, let's see. What's really interesting?" Of course, he expects her to change tone somewhat at any moment, but hey. She did ask for a tour.

Sabrina seems to still be in cute-little-girl mode. "That's what you're supposed to tell me!" She giggles.

Tom tries not to look ill. "She's worse than Alice!" he thinks. "So, what are your interests?" he asks. "I want to tailor this some. Have you seen Kia's? They have really cool old stuff."

"Oh! I like cool stuff!" Sabrina bubbles. "I like cute little animals, and I like flowers, and I like the trees and the sky, and I like to do somersaults and wheelbarrows and ... What do you like?"

Before Tom has a chance to answer, Sabrina volunteers, "I can do cartwheels one-handed!" And then she starts to demonstrate.

Tom grins. "I like dark caves, graveyards at night, haunted houses, that sort of th--" He stops and watches, amazed. This can't be Bragwaine, can it?

It's not the most graceful thing in the world, but Sabrina puts one hand down to the ground, pushes herself up off the ground with her feet, flips them up over her head to do a momentary hand-stand, then plops her sneakers back down on the pavement again with a double slap, and stands up. "Tada!"

Tom looks uncertain. "Yes, you can, can't you..." He ponders, then suggests, "Hey, I know. Do you like horses?"

"Mmmm ... I like small animals," Sabrina clarifies. "If it's bigger than me, well ..."

Tom frowns. "Crud." He looks back at his house. "And Shadow's not around. Ah well. C'mon, we'll wander and see what we see. Let's head in the direction of Eve's Ford. We might see some small animals out that way. Plus, it's a pretty place and near Crow Isle."

"Sure!" Sabrina chimes. "Lead the way!"

"Shadow's my cat," Tom explains and heads toward Stevenson Street. "We need to take Stevenson to Miner's Road," Tom explains.

"Oh! Yes, I've met him," Sabrina says, then falls in step behind Tom, nodding, and walking with wide-swinging arms and long steps to keep pace with Tom, who has the advantage of a longer stride, from being noticeably taller.

Tom looks back at her briefly and inquires, "You met him? When?" He also notices she has a problem keeping up, so he slows his stride some. "Eve's Ford is a bit of a walk, but it should be really pretty this time of year. I wish I could take you out to Crow Isle, but the boatman at the dock ... um ... doesn't like us anymore."

Sabrina looks like perhaps she was going to answer Tom's first question, but at the mention of Crow Isle, she says, "Aw! That's too bad! But I don't like boats anyway. I don't like water much. I'm not a good swimmer."

"Nor is Simon," Tom comments, thinking back to the rescue in the cave. The meet up with Stevenson in short time and Tom turns north, heading up toward Miner's Road. "Anyway, so, what's your brother like? He seems pretty quiet," Tom asks, trying to keep up a conversation.

"Maxie? Oh, he's nice, except when he gets bossy. He's pretty quiet, yeah," Sabrina agrees. "He reads lots of books, and makes things. He doesn't like going outside much at all. Not unless he's got a reason to. But I don't need a reason!"

Tom nods, looking around at the trees and houses lining the road. "Shame. It's really nice out here and there's so much to discover," Tom says, then asks, "What does he make?"

Sabrina giggles. "Messes, most of the time! Arts and crafts. He has a lot of books on that. Sometimes he makes pretty stuff, though."

"Cool! Can you give me an example of some pretty stuff he made?" Tom asks. "Aha," he then says softly, seeing the turnoff for Miner's Road up ahead.

It must be that Tom is slowing down perhaps a little too much for Sabrina's benefit, because she finds the time to do another hand-stand (though this time using both hands), and then flops over, smacking the pavement with the bottoms of her sneakers again as she rights herself. "Well, he makes his own Halloween costume every year, and he makes one for me, too, if I ask him nicely."

Tom glances back. "Really? What kind of costumes? Perhaps he'd make me one if I paid him. I'm good at building things like forts, not crafts." Tom starts walking a bit faster, taking the cue that he's going just a bit too slow.

"Mmmm, wizards, kings, princesses, witches, Frankenstein monsters, cats," Sabrina says, giggles, then suddenly stops herself, though at the moment, Tom doesn't catch her expression. By the time he glances back again, whether or not her expression changed, her smile seems bright as ever. "You build forts?" she asks.

Tom nods, pausing to look back at her. "I do occasionally. Why?" he asks.

"Why why?" Sabrina asks, a slight pout to her expression. "What sort of forts, then?"

Tom raises an eyebrow and says, "Oh, hidden ones in caves, trees, that sort of thing. I'm working on my masterpiece right now." He grins, knowing he's baiting her.

"Oh, really? When's it going to be done?" Sabrina asks. "Can I see it when it's done?"

Tom folds his ands behind his back and rocks up onto his toes. "Oh, I don't know, maybe," he says, grinning, "It's a secret place."

"Ohhhhhh," Sabrina says, then grins about as widely. She looks around. "Are we almost there yet?"

"To Eve's Ford? Nah, we have to go down Miner's Road, still," he explains, then adds, "Hey, does Max like forts?"

Sabrina looks briefly disappointed, then nods. "Oh, yes, he likes forts. His are made out of big cardboard boxes. He made a castle for me once. But I left it outside when it rained."

Tom nods. "Well, I may have to bring both of you to mine sometime when it's done. It's well hidden and very advanced," he says, then starts walking again, this time a bit faster. In no time, they're at Miner's Road and Tom turns down it, thinking briefly back to the key found along this road.

For some time, Sabrina asks Tom about the trees, about the road, about how old Ainigton is, about all the angels she's seen at the school, about what it's like to go to school here, about what it's like in winter....

Tom tries to keep up with the barrage of questions. "Most of the trees are oak and maple ... This road used to be the way miners traveled up to the old mine. The town was founded because of it, and Harcourt Manor is part of that history ... Angels at school? Oh, the Siege, well, that place is special. It was done by a very famous town resident after an odd dream ... Winter? Cold and snowy. We usually have one major snowfall each year...." He then rambles on about the hills and the fact there are caves in them, but they're too dangerous for most people to visit (heh), and that the islands out in Lake Pollux are great picnic sites. He even adds a quick tale about the work he's doing at Harcourt Manor and the neat things he's found there.

For every answer Tom gives, Sabrina seems to have one or two more questions, and by the time they make it past Danzwyck Stables (which prompts plenty of questions from Sabrina about the horses there, but no volunteering on her part to actually go any closer to them), she is still going along at a fairly brisk pace verbally as well as physically. The covered wooden bridge over "Eve's Ford" is visible up ahead, obscured by hanging boughs of intervening trees. And, of course, the site of Tom's secret fort is passed along the way, without Tom giving so much as a hint as to its location -- and Sabrina does not seem to indicate any special realization of the secret she's just missed.

Tom points and says, "See that covered bridge up ahead? That's Eve's Ford right there. This is a really cool area up here. The forests are wonderful to explore. You meet such interesting people"

The trees cast long shadows across the road, and the wind stirs the branches and the pine boughs, making the needles and leaves brush and whisper. It's been some time since the last car that passed by this way. In fact, if it were not for such telltale signs as the paved road, and what would otherwise be the anachronistic construction of the bridge, one might be able to imagine this as some highway through a medieval forest, with such dangers as brigands, bandits and monsters afoot in the woods. Well, one could imagine such things, that is. Perhaps a helpful aid could be the fact that up ahead, there is a solitary, shadowed figure standing in a cowled cloak beside the road, holding a staff tightly clutched in one hand, leaning heavily against it.

"What the heck ... ?" mutters Thomas. He holds up his hand. "Please, wait a second. Someone is up there -- someone I don't recognize. I think you way want to wait here."

*jingle* Sabrina suddenly halts. "Oopsie," she whispers.

Tom looks back. "Oopsie?"

The solitary figure turns to face the two travelers. The realization strikes Tom that this may not be quite so mysterious a figure after all. In fact, it looks suspiciously like the boy that Tom was able to identify as Maximillan Winters, back in the library, though adorned with the somewhat outlandish touch of a heavy shawl about the shoulders of his frail frame, and leaning heavily on an oaken walking stick.

Tom starts walking forward again, slowly. "Interesting location to meet you again," he says slowly. "I've always liked this road. It's easy to lose time out here and forget the world. But travelers should be careful. It is also a great road for highwaymen to roam. Are you a highwayman, good sir?"

The girl walks somewhat timidly behind Tom, the jingle of her charm suddenly ringing very noticeably in Tom's ears, now that she's not chattering his ears off with all her questions.

"Far from it," the boy beside the road says. "And who might you be?"

"Some call me Thomas, Lord of the Forest and Streams. Others call me Lord Explorer, late of the Golden Hawks. You may call me Tom, provided your intentions are honorable," he says calmly and softly.

The breeze blows again, making the leaves rustle again -- not only the leaves on the branches, but the dried leaves tied with cord to the top of the staff held by the one who addresses Thomas. "I will call you Thomas, then," he says, "and I am Pelles of Caer Bannuac." He looks past Thomas to the one behind him. "Bragwaine, why have you brought him here? Now is not yet the time."

"I'm sorry, master," Bragwaine says, from behind Thomas. "I thought everything was ready."

"I brought her, I am afraid," Thomas says, looking at the figure, expression calm. "This happens to be my home, and I wished to show her its beauty." His ears catch Bragwaine's apology and he glances over his shoulder, "Or perhaps I was led to believe I brought her." He walks slowly, hands behind his back. "I am a direct person, Pelles. It comes from living my life mostly with the forest and its residents. So, I will say, I know you have been observing me. To what end?"

"That is for you to determine," Pelles says. "And as for Bragwaine, it is a matter of point of view whether she brought you, or you brought her. She is a peculiar beast, one gifted with an insight into the future, but at the cost of her observance of the present. Cause and effect are tightly intertwined, and sometimes trade places, when you deal with the affairs of magic, and sometimes the end creates the beginning."

"Meow," says Bragwaine, grooming her paw.

"Hence the sigil she wears around her neck," Thomas says softly. He glances back toward Bragwaine again and shrugs. "It matters not. But I will say, it is a trying time in these lands of late. The fey are rising and acting; the world is unbalanced. I have seen such before, but never in my homeland. So, forgive me if I seem suspicious. If you have something you wish of me, ask it. My life is all a quest, after all."

"When such a time comes, I will ask," Pelles says, "but it is not for me to choose. I am a ruler, but I am ruled. I am a sorcerer, but magic commands me as much as I may command it. I am a catalyst for change, a druid, some might say, or perhaps only a blowing wind."

"And I am a cat," Bragwaine says, grooming her paw.

The Explorer nods. "I feel for you then, Pelles, for I am not ruled. I go and do as I choose, to learn, to explore," Thomas says. "I would invite you to my home here, to discuss, or to just learn of one another, but it has fallen on hard times and is in need of much repair." He pauses, then says, "And you are one of the few sorcerers I have ever met. Some day, I may ask things of you, for I fear we may be needing magical knowledge."

Pelles smirks. "If you ask questions, the answers I give you may sound to your ears as riddles. Such is the way of things, for prophesies are rarely fulfilled only once, and a question about the nature of things rarely has but one answer. This you will see in nature ... A child may be at play, and see within a sapling a great tree, within a tiny brook a rushing river, within a pile of pebbles a mass of boulders. In what is small, you see an echo of that which is large."

"And I may give you an answer that is both false and true," Pelles adds. "If these riddles are too much for you to bear, it is best you not ask me any questions at all, for you will only receive more of the same."

Tom laughs! "Ah, spoken like a true student of magic," he says, shaking his head softly. "One thing, pray tell: where did you get ... that?" he asks, pointing back at Bragwaine. "She is most peculiar."

"Do you own a cat, or does a cat own you?" Pelles asks. "Suffice it to say that our paths have converged upon each other in our wanderings. I do not live life the same way that most mortals do, for I have walked many ages, and tested many heroes. Bragwaine, having the gift of foresight, was drawn to this peculiarity in my nature, one might suppose. And I, being cursed and wishing to know, perhaps, whether hope lies in the future, should find an interest in one who occasionally has insights into that future."

Bragwaine yawns, then says, "That, and he has me run errands for him."

This draws a sharp look from Pelles, but it soon fades, as he returns his attention to Thomas.

The Explorer nods at this, saying, "Ah, good wizard, hope is not in the future, but inside each person. Hope is the power you find within yourself, when the night is darkest. It is not part of time, but outside it." He shrugs. "Or so believe many cultures I have met. I find it a pleasing way to view the world." He then glances back to Bragwaine and finally breaks into a small grin. "And such a cat you have. You might want to have her ... trained."

"One might want as well to train the wind," Pelles says, a wry smirk at the edge of his lips.

"Is that not what a sail is for?" Thomas counters, returning the smirk.

Bragwaine sits down beside the road, looking at Thomas with her peculiar cross-eyed gaze. "Oh, I don't like that train of thought. Next thing you know, he'll stick me in a bag."

"Come now, Bragwaine, you're not that unpleasant to look at," Thomas says, glancing down to Bragwaine and winking, then returns his attention to Pelles.

"Purr," Bragwaine says, her ego stroked.

"Not as beautiful as some of the fey I have met, but I digress," Thomas adds.

Bragwaine pouts.

Pelles looks back to Thomas. "You speak of imbalance in the land."

Tom nods. "I do. It was imperceptible at first, but the imbalance is growing. It crawls across the land, and those who know the land can feel the shift, the slow creeping as if a cold wind crawling up your spine. I believe the balance of magic has shifted here, causing nature itself to be unbalanced," he says.

"I agree and disagree," Pelles says. "Balance is an illusion -- it is subjective, a point of view. Nature cannot be truly imbalanced, for nature is forever changing. There are exceptions to every rule, or there would be no need for rules. If you seek balance for its own sake, you will ultimately be disappointed by what you do achieve."

Bragwaine rolls her eyes, giving a "here we go again" look, though for the moment somehow escaping Pelles's notice. (Or perhaps he's just pretending to ignore her.)

Tom shrugs and says, "I never claimed to seek balance. I seek knowledge and understanding. I am an observer, not a changer, after all. An explorer that becomes a changer is nothing more than a conqueror, enforcing his view on the world."

Pelles nods here, looking thoughtful at Thomas's self-description. "Perhaps that is so."

Bragwaine says, "Meow. Ah, he's going to spare you the speech, then."

Tom chuckles. "Only in times of great crisis, will I become an active force; not an observer," Tom says softly. "Such a time may be coming, but time will tell. It always does."

Pelles shakes his head, smirking once more. "You will change that which you observe, and that which you observe will change you, Lord Explorer Thomas. That is the way of things. The mere act of observation changes that which is observed. In the realm of spirit, you will find that perception and reality are intertwined in more ways than the purely logical man would suppose. Keep an open--"

*HONK HONK*

Tom turns, looking for the source of the honk, mood ruined. Instinctively, he moves to the side of the road, motioning for Bragwaine and Pelles to do the same.

Just then, a station wagon rolls up, and the driver's side window rolls down. "Hi, kids!" Mr. Winters calls out. "Ready to head back for supper?" he asks to Sabrina and Maximillan.

"Yeah!" Sabrina calls out. "I love Aunt Loren's cooking!" She dashes around to the passenger's side door.

Maximillan has a faintly dour look on his face, but he soon replaces it with a wan smile. "Sure," he says, and starts hobbling his way after Sabrina, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

Tom waves to the pair, a slight grin on his face. "You two have a good evening then," he says, glancing upward to check the time. Surely it isn't near dinner ... eek! It is, and he'd better get home.

"Hello, Tom!" Mr. Winters calls out. "You're all the way out here, too? Hop on in, and we'll give you a lift back!" He turns to call over his shoulder to the back seat, "Move over and make room, Sabrina!"

Meanwhile, Maximillan, after much struggling, manages to pull himself into the passenger's seat up front.

Tom blinks. "Oh, that's not necessary ... " He glances upward again and amends, "... but thanks!" He hurries over to the car and climbs in just as Bragwaine is moving over. Whew, with a ride, I'll get home in time!

Once seatbelts are buckled, and doors are closed, Mr. Winters starts along Miner's Road, back toward Ainigton Proper. Sabrina starts bubbling over about the nice tour that "Tommy" gave her, and all the things she learned about Ainigton. Max is back to the same quietly brooding boy Tom met in the library. The car is about as mundane as anything could be.

Tom looks between the two, impressed with the rapid switch of personae. He's tempted to introduce these two to the others, but decides that might be a bit overwhelming for them. He sighs, looking out the window as the trees going by. He can't help but feel oddly relaxed; at least this is a game. At least these are just kids, having fun. At least he knows what is going on ... right?

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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.