The Jeruuh (12 Jul 2001) That same day, Simon, Agatha and Tom explore the cave further.

Lunch consists of the hot dogs that Agatha brought along (kosher, for Rebecca's sake) and potato chips and apples, to be washed down with cola. Agatha cooked the hot dogs over a portable camping stove, quite acceptably too, and with the exertion and adventure of the past hours, everyone has worked up quite an appetite.

But that was then and this is now, when the sun is starting to go down from its midday peak, and lunch weighs comfortably in the kids' stomachs. Rebecca and Alice seem inclined to enjoy the sun, lying on the grassy hillside, but for Tom and Agatha, and Simon as well, there's a suspicion that the cave hasn't shaken out all of its secrets.

So it was off to Jim's Fishing and Sports shop for a few necessities (such as the sounding line that Agatha craved), and then they returned to the cave, descended once again down the rope...

The Secret Caves
The caves would be pitch black, were it not for flashlights; as it is, the beams play across the irregular, water-eroded floor and reflect from the stalactites and stalagmites that occasionally join to form a column from floor to dome-like ceiling. From a triangular pool at the intersection of southern, northern, and western cave, three streams run in smooth arcs that appear naturally eroded, but must surely have been designed to achieve the effect of delineating circles which meet at this pool.

There is no sign that Ryland has returned. The caves are silent, the darkness swallowing up light. A faint rippling is the only sound.

Simon, playing the Minstrel, offers up cheerful verse:

Here was Ryland of Avarre,
Of mystery and blackest midnight born
In Stygian cave forlorn
Among horrid shapes, and snarls, and sights unholy!
He sought out cast-off treasure
Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings
And the night-raven sings,
There, under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks
As ragged as Tom's locks,
Might Alice's lost treasure be hidden well!

"Minstrel Sam" sweeps a bow and grins to Mapmaker Tom and the Weaponsmaster Redtail.

"I guess that's revenge for making you the minstrel, huh?" says Tom, grinning. "Anyway, turns out we've got a few scraps of paper. So I thought we'd go pace out the cave down there and get a rough size estimate, then try to place the pool and follow the curves of the streams. What do you think, Redtail?"

Simon bows and grins. "Yes, it is," he replies to the question about revenge.

Agatha, a.k.a. Redtail, applauds the minstrel, having to move her crowbar to the crook of her arm to do so. To Tom she says, "Shouldn't be too hard. This sounding line is good for measuring up to a hundred feet."

Tom nods. "Sounds good to me. I doubt the pool is very deep -- perhaps fifteen feet or so." He checks over his gear quickly: flashlight, batteries, knife, slingshot, all there. He slips his backpack over his shoulder and looks toward the cave. "Well, shall we go? It's already past noon and we should hurry to finish before dark."

A bit of mapmaking later -- and a few near-slips by Simon, and one by Agatha in the ground made slippery by the streams -- allows Tom to make a good diagram of the layout. There is a large amount of rock fall in the western cave, but some of the rock fall turns out to actually be mixed in with more junk, as miscellaneous as the pile found earlier. The way the earth is shaped suggests there might be a tunnel past this point, but if so, it's inaccessible without a lot of help.

It's difficult to get an accurate measure of the caves due to the way they're laid out and that the floor defies straight lines. Each "circle" might be some hundred paces across, at a rough guess.

In the coolness of the cave, Thomas sits down on the floor for a short bit and rubs his neck. "Well, cool, now we have a layout of this place to show the other two," says Tom as he looks over the sketched map of the cave. He looks up at Redtail. "That pile to the west looked pretty interesting. Why don't we take a look at it, then try to sound out the pool? I coulda sworn it almost looks like there's a passage behind that pile."

Simon looks dubious. "It might be a jruuh lair," he suggests. "Maybe they gathered all this stuff so they could nest in it. Whatever a jruuh is," he adds after a moment's thought.

"Okay, Boss," Redtail agrees, and heads towards the pile of debris to the west, with her crowbar resting against her right shoulder.

Tom glances at Simon. "Oh, don't tell me you actually believed that bird? It was a thief and obnoxious. Why, it wouldn't even hardly answer a question." Tom gets back to his feet and heads after Redtail. "Come along, Sam. After all, we need adventures if you're going to write any decent ballads about us."

Minstrel Sam rolls his eyes. "Can't I just write a ballad about three adventurers who stayed at home and lived happily ever after?" He follows Tom good naturedly, however.

Thomas shakes his head as he head toward the pile. "Actually, I prefer ballads that involve poor minstrels getting captured and having to be rescued by heroic, and very good looking, adventurers," says Tom. He tries hard not to crack a smile, but is not very successful.

Agatha slows down as she approaches the spill of debris, then stops and backs up a few paces ... then steps forward again. "I think it gets warmer closer to the pile. Do you guys feel anything?"

Up closer, the junk pile does seem to have more in the way of ragged clothes and blankets than the one in the center, and the things that are in it, such as a boat's wooden oar or an old model railroad set, seem to have suffered from scratches and marring. There's a fine layer of animal fur, grayish at this distance.

Minstrel Sam wets a fingertip and holds it up, testing the air. "There's a little breeze, but it's hard to tell which way it goes," he says. "Maybe there's hot air coming from somewhere lower."

Tom gets closer to Agatha and says, "Warmer? No, I don't feel anything like that. Not yet, anyway." He looks at Simon. "Or that leads to another entrance to the cave, and we're getting a breeze from above."

"It looks like an animal nest or a bed for a big dog," Redtail comments.

"I wouldn't want to see the size of the dog that'd sleep on this bed," Minstrel Sam says.

"But it's not home, apparently. I really doubt it's an animal bed. The breeze prolly blew the hair from exploring animals to that spot," says Thomas. Still, he digs briefly into his backpack and pulls out his slingshot. He kneels down and gathers a few rocks from the floor. "Just in case I'm wrong," he explains.

Agatha hmms. "We've seen the footprints though," she says, and pokes at the blankets and rags with the chisel-end of her crowbar to see if anything is buried in them.

Simon sticks close to Tom, fishing out his own slingshot to arm himself as well.

Tom moves to the side some to make sure Redtail is out of his "line" should he need to fire at the pile. "See anything, Weaponsmaster?" he asks.

The crowbar hits something soft and resilient. A growling noise starts to fill the air, low at first, then rising.

Simon yelps. "Run for it!" he suggests, pulling on Tom's elbow.

Tom tries to slip a rock quickly into his slingshot and starts to step backward. "Redtail, get out of there," he says firmly. He erks as his arm is pulled on, almost dropping his flashlight. Thomas then says flatly, "Sam, do you want something coming up behind you? There's no way we could outrun an animal and I have no desire to be attacked from behind. Back away, quickly. Don't take your eyes off that pile."

Agatha backs away several paces, but keeps her light shining on the spot she poked for the benefit of the slingshot-wielders.

Simon remains pale, but does as Tom suggests.

Tom tucks his flashlight deep into a pocket. "Thanks Agatha," he comments. He trains the slingshot on the pile and draws it taut, continuing to back away quickly.

The growling noise continues ... and then with a flurry, the junk pile erupts! Old sweaters and scarves go flying in the kids' direction. There seems to be a hint of something dog-like, or maybe raccoon-like moving quickly to the side, up onto the rock fall.

Tom's jaw drops, "Great googalie moogalie!" He aligns the slingshot at the emerging object and lets loose!

Agatha jumps back and takes a swing at a ratty old sweater that flies towards her. "Where is it? Where is it?" she calls, trying to follow the movement with her light.

The shot is a clean miss, unfortunately, and the pebble rattles off of countless rocks that make up the slope of this cave's floor.

As Agatha swings her light to try and follow it, it seems to her that she almost caught sight of one of the creature's hind paws, and that it might indeed have left such tracks as litter this cave's floor. It's no bear, not even a young one, she thinks, despite her earlier certainty that the track-leaver must have been ursine. But despite her attempts to track its motion, she never seems to be able to pin down its exact location, as it continues across the rock fall to the north.

Simon nudges Tom. "Your flashlight!"

Tom blinks. "Oh, right!" He pulls his flashlight out of his pocket and tries to train it ahead of the creature, hoping it'll run though the beam and they can make out what it is.

While Tom's flashlight beam is woefully off at first, Agatha's beam manages to find its target. What was it? There was a shape much like a dog's, except that there was something different about the tail, perhaps badgerish, and then there was a sudden flash of light, a "pop", and then there was just empty rock fall and again, silence.

"You got it!" Simon crows.

"What was that flash?" Agatha asks, scanning with the light to see if the creature just jumped out of the way somehow. "I don't see or hear it anymore."

Tom scans the area with his flashlight after the pop. "Hey, where'd it go?" he asks.

Simon says, "It must have been a jruuh! They disappear if you can see them, you know."

Tom looks at Simon, "And how do you know?"

"Or maybe it was a ghost," the younger boy theorizes, after a bit of thought.

Agatha shines her light back on the rock fall, and on Simon. "How can you even pronounce that word? Dreww ... Drooo ... Jeroo ... bah."

"Well, if it's gone, I want to go back to that pile and get some of the hair. I bet I could get the science teacher at school to identify it," muses Thomas.

Simon grins awkwardly. "It's like, oh ... one of those foreign languages." He pronounces it carefully. "Jeh-rooh. But less 'eh' and more 'rooh'."

Returning to the "nest", Agatha pokes at it some more to make sure there isn't another animal hiding in it. "You didn't even think anything slept in this. How sturdy does that rock fall look to you, Tom? Think it's safe to climb?"

Tom grins sheepishly. "Yeah, well..." He lets the comment drop and shines his light over the rock fall. Slowly, he moves toward it, scanning over it with the flashlight. He tries to see if it looks pretty compact or rather loose.

Minstrel Sam mutters to himself, following Tom. "Maybe a jruuh is a ghost raccoon. Don't raccoons like to steal things?"

Tom squints and grumbles, "Well, the rocks look like they fell quite some time ago, but. It just doesn't look like it would be that stable. If you want to attempt it, I suggest one of us go at a time and take it real slow and careful." He then looks back at Simon and says, "Yes, they do, actually. Those prints did seem to match a raccoon's print from the library, too. Maybe it's just a big raccoon? There aren't such things as ghosts, after all."

Minstrel Sam looks thoughtful, then grins at Tom. "What do you want your song to be about, ghost raccoons, or regular raccoons?"

"Hm, well you have a point. Ghost raccoons are better campfire stories," comments Thomas. "So, think I should try to climb the rock fall? Sure, what the heck!" says Thomas. He moves around a bit, looking for a good starting place.

"It didn't have a raccoon's tail," Agatha points out, and pauses in her poking of the nest when she hears a metallic clink. Keeping her crowbar in place, she kneels down and starts pushing aside blankets and rags to see what it hit.

"Okay, so it was a raccoon with a receding hairline," comments Thomas as he grins.

Tom's climb up the rock fall proves uneventful; he seems to have a knack for finding the best footrests and handrests. Closer to the wall of the cavern, he can see that it was once an overhanging ledge, possibly a balcony like the one that opened into these caves, but it doesn't seem likely that he's going to be able to get up there, unless perhaps he can shinny somehow. There's no sign of the animal that they had spotted earlier.

Tom hmms quietly to himself. A few moments later he calls back down, "Just looks like it's another balcony up here, only partially collapsed. I don't think I can get to it with any sort of safety. Normally, I'd try anyway ... but after finding that creature down here, I don't want to get stuck here with it." After that, he starts to make his way back down.

Meanwhile, Agatha plows through the junk pile in search of treasure ... and comes up with a flute! It's a shiny silvery thing, with a mouth-piece and many little stops. It sits amidst the rummage sale of a junk pile like a great dane among schnauzers.

Simon watches Tom's clambering with anxiety. "Yeah, I don't blame you," he agrees. "All this rock fall means it must not have been a very safe ledge anyway."

"Wow, look at this!" Agatha crows, holding the flute up in the flashlight beam.

Tom clambers the rest of the way down, making sure to use the same foot and handholds he used going up. He hops the last foot down and lands with a soft thud. "Hey cool," Thomas comments as he sees the flute, "That was in the pile?"

Simon blinks. "Hey, a flute! And it looks really expensive, too."

"Yeah, right here," she says, pointing her light into the "hole" she's dug into the nest. "No bird carried this off, I bet!"

The minstrel steps closer. "Can I lookit that?" he asks.

Tom heads back over to the pile of junk. Now rather curious as to what it contains, he starts slowly digging through the pile. "Maybe Alice's earrings are in here," he mutters.

Agatha hands the flute over to Simon. "With that bird gone, I can probably get my letter opener back too," she comments.

Simon starts examining the flute, then realizes the light's too poor to do so immediately. "Shine that light over here please, Weaponsmaster?" he says. "Uh, I prithee, Minstrel Sam sees what may be secret writing upon this instrument; lend him therefore illumination from thine magic tube?"

Grinning, Agatha brings the light closer to the flute.

Meanwhile, Tom's inspection does bear fruit. Unfortunately, it's the rotten, moldy old fruit that must have been cached in this lair some time ago and gone bad since. A horrible stench fills the air.

"Oh, that is so gross. Nasty!" yelps Tom and he leaps away from the pile.

Simon says, "Eyugh!" backing away. "What did you do?"

"Pheww!" Agatha agrees, and fans the air in front of her face. "Maybe we should go over to the other pile."

Tom covers his nose and grumbles, "Found the thing's late night munchie stash apparently. Bleah." He nods emphatically, saying, "Let's go to the other junk pile for a bit."

Agatha retrieves her crowbar, and warns Simon, "Don't drop the flute!" before heading for clearer air.

The three kids move quickly away from the western rock fall and junk pile, to find the one positioned about where the Angel's statue would be in its corresponding center of the Siege des Anges. There's nothing particularly angelic about this pile, however; it remains much as it was earlier.

The Weaponsmaster looks through the pile, trying to find her letter opener again.

"I've got it," Simon says. Resuming his inspection, he turns the flute over, and then tries the stops. Nothing unusual happens.

Tom decides to dig through this pile. "Gah, her earrings have to be here somewhere," he says, irritated. This time, he's a bit more careful with digging. If something looks remotely like fruit, he stays away from it.

Agatha's perfunctory search, hampered as she is by having to let Simon borrow her flashlight to examine the flute, turns up nothing; however, Tom's search turns up what look like an earring. Unfortunately it isn't a golden unicorn; it is what looks like a golden crescent moon, such that the points meet at the top side, and it would be worn on the ear there -- if one were a girl. It would not look out of place on a gypsy lass.

"Hey Simon," Agatha asks while rummaging, "you moved here pretty recently, didn't you? Have you lost anything?"

"Not that I can remember," Simon replies distractedly.

Tom blinks and says, "Huh, well, a bird could've swiped this." He turns it over in his hand, shining the light on it to see if it has any writing or anything unusual. He then asks Simon, "Hey, what did that flute say, by the way?"

"It's got writing on it?" Agatha asks, looking at the flute again with interest.

"Well, it looks someone inscribed the shape of a key on it ... See?" Simon shows the flute to Tom. "And a rose, here, with the stem winding around."

Simon adds, "It was the thorns that made me think it might be writing of some kind, but I can't figure it out."

Agatha blinks and says, "A key? I can understand the rose, but a key?"

Tom momentarily stops looking at the earring and shines his flashlight on the flute. "So it does. How interesting. Have you tried to play it?" asks Thomas.

"Minstrel Sam" looks embarrassed. "Uh..."

"Is the key near any of the openings? Perhaps the note it creates opens something?" muses Tom. He then shakes his head, "That's silly, like something out of some fairy tale."

"Nobody is gonna blow in that thing until it's been washed out!" Agatha says firmly. "A mutant raccoon has been sleeping on it for who knows how long!"

"Perhaps it's not really a flute. Maybe you stick it in some hole and it unlocks a door?" comments Tom.

Simon whispers to Tom, "I can't play a flute!"

Tom shrugs and whispers back, "So? You can try. I mean, it's not like we're gonna tease you if you sounded awful or something."

Simon puts a hand over his face.

Agatha rolls her eyes. "If it's a key, then you should blow into it, Tom, not Simon."

"It could be just a flute," Simon suggests helpfully.

Tom asks, "Why should I blow into it?" Then he extends a hand. "What the heck, I'll give it a shot. Though, I agree with Redtail, let's rinse it out in one of the streams."

The minstrel hands over the flute obligingly.

"Because it would be more dramatic in the ballad," Agatha explains, smirking.

Tom takes the flute. He looks over at the stream and sighs, "Crud. Probably not deep enough." He heads toward the pool instead.

Agatha follows along. "Try not to fall in," she advises.

Simon hangs back a little -- probably understandably so.

Tom waves a hand back toward Agatha. "Yeah, I know." He kneels down at the water's edge and gets a firm grip on the flute. Carefully, he dips it into the water and moves it side to side slowly.

"Might as well measure how deep the pool is too," Agatha suggests, and sits down next to Tom. Taking one of her horseshoes, she begins tying it to the end of the sounding line after laying down her flashlight and crowbar.

Simon watches this curiously. "What are you doing?"

Tom takes the flute from the pool after a minute or so of swishing it back and forth. He sits back from the water's edge just a bit and shakes the flute gently, trying to get all the water out.

"We need to weigh down the end of the line so it'll sink," Agatha explains. Once the knot seems tight enough, she tosses the shoe into the pool and lets the line play out.

"So we can find out how deep the pool is," adds Tom.

*kersplunk!* The line plays out, the horseshoe disappearing into the darkness of the pool. And out, and out, the thin line vanishing between Agatha's fingers, until at last she has fifty feet of sounding line ... and then she can feel the impact as the horseshoe hits something, perhaps a ledge or perhaps the bottom. It's hard to be sure which, unless someone was to go down and look.

Agatha gives the line a few tugs, in case the shoe hit a ledge or got caught on something. "Deeper than I thought..."

"Is that good?" Simon asks.

Tom looks up. "About how far did it go, Redtail?" He then returns to staring at the flute. He shrugs and raises the flute slowly to his lips. He blows softly into it, not covering any of the holes the first try.

"Good? I dunno," Agatha admits with a shrug. "I just wanted to see if anything would grab the line and drag it off, or if it would vanish or something. About halfway so far Tom ... fify feet."

*fwuh* Unfortunately, Tom's attempts at playing the flute, without proper knowledge, seem largely unsuccessful at eliciting any sound from it.

Tom gives the flute such a look. "Why you little..," he grumbles, then makes a second attempt.

Simon grins at Tom.

Another failure. There just must be something wrong with Tom's technique.

Tom looks up momentarily. "Yeah yeah," he comments.

After a few more tugs, Agatha begins to pull the horseshoe back up. "At least it isn't repeating what you say, Tom," she says with a grin.

Tom grumbles. He decides to give it one more try, what the heck. He shifts it a bit, trying to get it to where he blows just over the hole. He thinks that's how he saw people in the school band do it.

And miracle of miracles, it does work! An incredibly crystal-clear note issues from the flute, though what note exactly couldn't be said by the three present. Simon's scoffing look changes to one of admiration, and the cave's silence grows even deeper, as if listening.

Tom blinks and stop blowing. The look on his face is one of simple amazement. "Whoa," he mutters.

"Not bad!" Agatha says, pulling the horseshoe out of the water and setting it on the floor. "Did you feel like anything got unlocked?"

Tom shakes his head slowly. "Nope. I didn't feel a thing." He hmms and places a finger over the hole closest to the end and the key. He repositions the flute back to the way he thinks he had it and blows lightly again.

A different note this time, also ringing of the same clarity. This is a very good musical instrument, at least, even if nothing impressive seems to be happening.

Tom turns the flute in his hands and looks at the rose design and where the thorns seem to point. Perhaps they point to particular holes on the instrument.

"Maybe you have to play to the Angel," Agatha suggests.

Tom acks! "You mean play in the park? Nu-uh. No way! I'd be labeled a sissy," protests Thomas.

Simon puts his arms behind his head, stretching a bit as if cricking his neck. "So what do you think it would open? If it did open something, that is."

"Maybe a doorway into wherever the bird and jer ... jruuh went to," Agatha speculates. "Or it could make the rock fall swing aside so we can get to whatever is behind it."

Tom looks skeptical. "Oh, I doubt it could make the rock fall move for us." He shrugs and says, "I bet we need some sort of sheet music or a tune to play. Or maybe the notes calm the raccoon-thing. Who knows?"

Agatha hmms, looking at the flute. "Do you think it'll come back and try to find the flute? We could set a trap with it then."

Tom hmms. "Maybe. It depends on if it was important at all. It might be another item like your letter opener. Important to a particular person."

Simon nods thoughtfully. "Y'know, we could just pretend it does something. Like, maybe it opens regular doors, even if they're locked, or something."

"Maybe it could be a magic wand in disguise," Agatha says. "Although seriously, I should bring it to the music store and see if they know who it belongs to. That engraving is pretty memorable."

Tom nods. "Yeah. We're acting like something magical is going on. I think the darkness is just messing with us. It's just a flute. Perhaps it could be Rebecca's magical flute for opening up passageways unseen or something. Kinda like Ali-Baba saying, 'Open-Sesame'."

Simon grins. "Yeah! And there'd be, like, fantastic treasures hidden inside."

Tom grins. "Now that would be cool." He then looks to Agatha. "Yeah, that is a good idea. Or at least we might find out how old it is."

Agatha laughs! "Hey, we're already in a cave full of stolen treasure!"

"You call rotten fruit a treasure?" asks Thomas.

"That was just a booby-trap!" Agatha argues. "Or ... the remains of the last person to come across the dragon's hoard."

Tom looks ill at the thought of someone's remains.

"Ick! I hope that was just something that died and not, uh, some-one that died," Simon says.

"So, how do you think all this junk did get down here? Surely you don't think that the Jer, J ... jruuuhwhatsis brought it down here?" says Thomas.

"Well, my letter opener never left my room until it vanished," Agatha says while she respools the sounding line.

"What about that old story about the hermit? Couldn't he have carried off dropped junk to this place?" offers Tom.

Minstrel Sam thinks about this a bit. "Well... It might explain a lot of this stuff. I mean, who'd want all these old clothes, except someone who couldn't get his own?"

Tom nods to Sam, "Exactly."

"But that was years ago," Agatha says. "He wasn't around to collect the recent stuff. He'd have to still be alive for that."

Tom says, "Well, some of it might have been more recently brought by wild animals like that bird."

"Because, the idea that some sort of evil monster with a bird sidekick is just, well, silly," comments Tom. "Don't you think so, Simon?"

Agatha just shakes her head. "If wild animals did this sort of stuff, it'd be happening all over, right?"

"Maybe it was his ghost!" Minstrel Sam suggests cheerfully.

Tom facepalms.

"That dog-thing did just vanish, didn't it?" Agatha asks after stowing the line and horseshoe in a pocket of her jacket. "All this ghost talk is creeping me out. Maybe we should go tell the others and see what they think?"

Tom waves a hand. "Vanish, bah. Perhaps it jumped in a hole we missed or ran up that short tunnel to the north." He then nods to Agatha. "Sounds like a good idea, actually. Maybe one of them can make something of the flute, too."

Minstrel Simon shrugs and grins. "I'm still trying to think of what rhymes with 'ghost raccoon' besides 'mad as a loon'."

Tom gets back to his feet and grimaces at Simon. "Granted us a boon? Showed us the moon? We found a spoon? Well, that earring kinda looked like a moon."

"What're you going to do with it?" Simon asks. He winks. "It doesn't quite look your style."

Tom holds the flute out to Redtail. "Give it back to the finder, of course." He grins. "As for the earring ... probably give it to Alice. Jewelry is more her thing. Or perhaps take it to an antiques store and try to find out the age," Thomas adds.

Agatha accepts the flute and sticks it into another jacket pocket, even though it sticks out a bit. "I'll hide the flute someplace, and see if anything comes in to steal it."

"That's what I was wondering," Simon says to Tom. "I didn't think an earring was your style, or Ag-- Redtail's."

"Just don't let whomever comes for it see you, Redtail. You might scare 'em to death," says Thomas, grinning widely.

Agatha glares at Tom in the darkness and grumbles.

"That's what you get for the mouth-to-mouth comment," replies Tom, still grinning.

"Hey, you stung me with your smelly old sock for that!" Redtail growls. "So I guess I still owe you for that one then, eh?"

Tom hmms, "Oh, quite right. Well, since you owe me, I'll take a dollar." He grins again and stretches. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Minstrel Sam grins and sings, "Redtail and Tom sitting in a cave, A-R-G-U-I-N-G!" He hurries for the rope that indicates the way back before he can get too badly smitten.

Tom blinks and chases after Simon. "Come back here! I'll show you arguing!"

Agatha just sighs and picks up the flashlight and crowbar. "Serve them right if they trip over each other," she mumbles and heads for the southern passage at a more sensible speed.

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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.