The Captives of the Lost City of Alhassar

Chapter 4

By Dwayne MacInnes

"Excuse me. You said vampires, right?" I asked.

"Yes, they captured us and are going to use us as food. But when we combine our forces we should be able to defeat them handedly," the orc replied with confidence.

"You must have a good group of soldiers to have made it this far," the orc continued. "How large is your party?"

"Ah, I guess you could say two at best."

"What, only two of you. You must have had to battle your way down here and taken many casualties."

"Well, not exactly I came by myself."

"I thought you said there were two of you."

"I said two at best. It is a little hard to explain my companion."

"By Thor's blood how do..."

"I thought you believed in Uranus," I interrupted.

"To orcs -- Uranus is Thor," the orc started to explain.

"Whoa! What was that?" the voice of Mobius exclaimed behind me.

The orc jumped back from the cell's bars with a shriek.

"It's not what you think," I said to both Mobius and the orc at the same time.

I turned to Mobius. "She was explaining her gods to me."

"Oh good!" the skull sighed, "I thought for a minute she said..."

"I know," I replied as I turned back to the orc. "This is Mobius my companion."

"I am Mogutz leader of this doomed party," the orc replied tentatively returning to the bars.

"I am Gwendolyn rescuer of your doomed party," I began when I suddenly turned towards Mobius.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. I heard someone walking this way."

"Great!" I cried as I ran down the hall of cells with the skull tucked under my arm. I found a wooden door and quickly picked the lock and secreted myself inside.

It was not too soon; as I heard footsteps enter the room. I peered through the crack I left open in the doorway. I watched a tall-emaciated man walk into the room. His skin was sunken and cadaver gray. I did not have to be a High Elven lore master to know I was looking at a vampire.

"Pardon me," Mobius whispered.

"Shh," I hissed.

"Sorry I was just talking to..."

"If you don't clam up I'll use you as a bowling ball," I whispered harshly.

The vampire addressed the prisoners, "Tomorrow you will be taken into the old city. When the full moon reaches its zenith your blood will be spilled to summon the great lich-mage Zormandus. Then we shall feast upon your life's blood.

"Prepare yourself. You may want to send prayers to your gods."

The vampire then motioned for the servants who were waiting out of my sight to enter the room. They brought in bowls and mugs and dispersed them amongst the prisoners.

After the servants finished their tasks, the vampire ushered his minions out of the dungeon. He turned back towards the prisoners and said, "Enjoy this meal for it shall be your last. The gathering of dark mages, necromancers and the undead has begun."

With that, the vampire left the room. I waited a few minutes before I exited the sanctuary of my closet. I returned to the cell containing Mogutz with Mobius hovering just behind me.

"Looks like you guys stumbled upon something big," I stated.

Mogutz just nodded her head before sniffing at the bowl full of some type of stew.

"Rat stew again," she said.

"There is more here than just merely a conference of every evil baddie," a voice in the cell behind me said.

I walked over and looked at its occupant. He was a High Elf, with the telltale pale skin and the arrogant expression on his face.

"A Wood Elf, eh. Did you get lost?" the elf sneered.

"If I did it is a good thing for you because I'm your only hope of getting out of here," I replied hotly.

"Then we are as good as dead," the High Elf continued.

"Now that is not cricket, old chap," Mobius interrupted. "She's already freed me and she did make her way into this cell."

"Oh, that's rich I'm supposed to take the advice of a symbol off a bottle of poison," the elf shot back.

"Gandelf!!!" Mogutz hollered. "This is not the time for your uppity attitude. If you want we can leave you here."

That seemed to take the wind out Gandelf's sails. He muttered an apology and sat back down on his bunk.

"You mentioned that there is something more going on," I stated.

"Rather!" the elf ejaculated.

"Would you care to share it with us," I prodded. It was obvious Gandelf did not like being in the presence of such common folk as us.

"I am Gandelf. I am an archaeologist, and I have been researching the lost cities of the old elven empire. It was rumored that one of those lost cities lies underneath Imperial City. In fact, we can conclude that it is true. These vampires have excavated it and are now going to use it for their evil purposes.

"The elven ruins that Imperial City is built upon are believed to be Alhassar, the ancient city of lore. When the war between the united elven armies and the combined dwarven clans raged over the millennia, many cities were lost on both sides. So many towns and cities were razed that even we forgot where they were once located. We just had rumors and folktales to recall our ancient glory.

"I may add that if it weren't for the desertion of the lesser elves we very well may have won the war that raged for thousands of years instead of having it end in a stalemate. Even the dwarven High king Efdee Ore was quoted as saying ‘We have nothing to fear but fearless elves.'"

"If I remember right it was the arrogance of the High Elves that forced the Wood Elves to return to the Great Forest, the Dark Elves to their mines, and the Sea Elves to the ocean," I rebutted.

Gandelf just snorted, "In any event, as the two sides retreated to their remaining dwellings the humans over the years built their own cities upon the charred ruins of our old glory. The gods compensated the humans for their short lives by letting them propagate as if they were rabbits.

"So now after all these centuries I believe I have found the lost city of Alhassar only to find that its ancient libraries are about to be used for the dark purpose of opening a gate between our world and that of the Nine Hells."

"But that would utterly destroy our world!" I exclaimed.

The Messenger

Prologue

By Douglas E. Gogerty

Genghis Khan considered himself the ruler of the east, when he had defeated several surrounding kingdoms. His influence had reached to the Khwarezmian Empire. Instead of warring with them, a trade caravan was sent to Otrar, one of the boarder towns. The great Kahn wished greatly to become trading partners with this Islamic empire rather than having to fight them.

One of the merchants was the father of The Messenger, whose real name has been lost to us. However, the young boy of 12 was pledged to the daughter of one the commanders in the Mongol army. Hence, he did not join his father, but remained in Mongol territory with his young bride.

The Messenger would soon be of the marrying age of thirteen. During the winter hunt, he would get to show his skills to the rest of the military personnel. By this time, he would be of age, and he would then become a member of the army. He could also marry his arranged bride. However, currently he had to do whatever his father-in-law said. These things were very mundane and did not include going to exotic locations with his father.

Eventually, word came back that the caravan had been ruthlessly murdered and their goods confiscated by the governor of Otrar. This greatly distressed all of the Mongol people, and greatly upset The Messenger.

The great Khan did not want this to be a precursor to war. The Messenger's feelings not withstanding, every attempt would be made to prevent all out combat. After all, the Khwarezmian Empire was large and powerful. Their military greatly outnumbered the Mongolian forces. Nevertheless, it looked like Sultan of the Khwarezmian Empire was provoking the Mongols.

Thus, in Genghis's attempt to avoid outright war against that empire, an envoy was sent to meet with Sultan Ala ad-Din Muhammad. Among the members of this envoy was The Messenger's father-in-law to be. Unbeknownst to anyone at the time, The Messenger was also a member of the entourage. He disguised himself and stowed away on the diplomatic caravan.

The young man watched in horror as all of the official emissaries were shaved and beheaded. This Empire had now taken his father and his father-in-law. He burned for revenge, but he was a mere child and faced a large military force. He reluctantly returned with the remaining entourage to tell of the incident.

"This is not the act of a King, it is the actions of a bandit!" exclaimed Genghis.

"They must all die," responded The Messenger. "Future generations should not know of the Khwarezmian Empire! The city of Otrar should be lost to the ages."

"I share your sentiment young one," responded Genghis. "However, they are powerful. We must be cautious."

Genghis Khan retreated to the mountains to reflect upon the sultan's actions and to determine the next course of action. After three days he returned to assure the Mongol people that this affront would not go unpunished, and that God himself had assured him of victory.

By the time that the full force could be raised, The Messenger had become of age and was allowed to join the army. His desire to wreak havoc upon the Khwarezmian people had not waned. He was anxious to begin the battle.

By autumn, they had 20 tumens (200,00 soldiers) on the march, approaching the city of Otrar. The Messenger was anxious to wreak his vengeance upon the killers of his family members. He had shown great skill in the winter hunt, and many were impressed by his fighting skills.

Nevertheless, they had to siege the city. It could be quite a while before actual personal combat would occur. It would take a while to get into the city.

The great Khan had spread word throughout the area that those that did not oppose the approaching army, would obtain leniency. However, if they did not submit, they, their family, and all of their worldly possessions would be destroyed. Several emirs joined the fight against the sultan on word of this proclamation.

While many thought it was just words, Genghis Khan was true to his word. Those that showed they were loyal were treated well. However, those that betrayed trust were treated very harshly. Entire families were killed upon the actions of just one member.

The siege of the city took several months, but they had finally breached the city's defenses. However, the governor, who ordered the deaths of the merchants, made it to the citadel with 20,000 soldiers to continue the fight.

Since the fall of the city was immanent, Genghis Khan left it to continue his pursuit of the Sultan Muhammad. Nonetheless, The Messenger remained in Otrar. The young soldier showed his bravery and skill in the street fighting.

Like all Mongols, he was very proficient with the bow. Children learned to ride and use the bow at a very young age. Thus, when the young boys joined the military, they were highly trained bowmen. However, The Messenger was also very good with the pike and the spear even at the very young age of 13.

His desire for vengeance spurred him on to kill as many citizens of Otrar as he could manage. He would often engage in groups of 5 or more. During this particular campaign, his martial skills became greatly tuned. While he was still quite green, his skills easily overcame the groups of farmers that were recruited to save the city.

It took the remaining Mongol army a month to finally take the citadel. The governor was captured alive. The Messenger stated he would have killed him on sight, but he was elsewhere. After a brief interegation, he was executed.

When the group had reunited with Genghis Khan, The Messenger told the great leader that he personally poured silver into the governor's eyes as a means of execution. While Genghis knew that this did not really happen, he understood the meaning.

The beginning of the payback had begun. The Sultan would be next. For the next year, the Mongol army chased after the Sultan. They sieged city after city, but the sultan continued his retreat. The Messenger's fighting skills improved with each encounter. Soon, many soldiers drew lots to see who would fight next to him. It was thought to be the safest place in battle.

While the main force brought the Khwazemian Empire under its control, Genghis sent a force of 20,000 to search for the sultan. Naturally, The Messenger was part of this force. They followed every bit of intelligence to track down the sultan. They did encounter some resistance, but they fought less often than the main force.

To their dismay, they discovered that the sultan had died on an island in the Caspian Sea. While they did not discover if it was murder or natural causes, they were not involved in the death. This greatly disappointed The Messenger.

They returned to join the main force and they conquered the empire shortly afterwards. The Messenger had earned a name for himself, and he was a most respected warrior. He often volunteered for the most dangerous missions. Since being an emissary was fraught with danger, he often was sent to meet with opposition leaders. He always returned; thus, he earned the name of The Messenger.

The Vacuum

Frightday Short

By Conrad Bones

My grandma has this really old vacuum. It's the kind with a tank and a hose, not the stand-up kind. It sounds like an airplane. I've seen it suck up socks, plastic bags, spare change – even a dead mouse once.

I stayed with her for two weeks last summer. Grandma vacuumed every morning. She walked around with the hose part while I pushed the tank. "That thing is so heavy," she said. "I don't know what I'd do without you." She must vacuum all the time by herself, when I'm not there.

One morning there was a loud banging on the door. It was two guys with long hair.

"Hey, old lady," one of them said. "We were wondering what the deal is with the vacuum."

"I like to keep things tidy," she said.

"Well, do you have to do it at the crack of dawn?"

"I have more energy in the morning," she said.

"It wakes us up," he said. "We live right upstairs."

"Well, I'm sure you have to get up for work anyway," she said.

"Look, lady, stop it, or else," the first guy said.

"Yeah," said the other guy. He flexed an arm to show grandma the tattoo of a big snake with blood dripping off its fangs. "No more vacuuming until after noon," he said. "Got it?"

They slammed the door and grandma sat down, scared and shaking.

I felt bad, but what could I do? I'm only eleven.

Later that afternoon, my grandma went to vacuum the hall.

"If I don't do it, nobody does," she said.

"Do you need help?" I asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," she said. She wheeled the tank out, and shut the door behind her.

She was gone for a long time. I heard the vacuum roaring, and some banging and hollering. I guessed people were just trying to be heard over the vacuum.

"This place is so filthy," Grandma said when she came back. "It's better for now, at least." She shoved the vacuum back into the hallway closet. The machine was off, but it was still making little rumbling noises. It almost sounded like chewing.

We didn't hear from those men upstairs anymore, but the last day I was there, there was a knock on the door.

An older man was there, wearing a tie.

"Oh, it's you," my grandma said. "I sent you the rent check last week."

"I know," he said. "Do you know what happened to the two guys upstairs? They never seem to be home."

"Oh, my," said my grandma.

"I figger they ran off," the man grumbled. "They owe me two months rent."

"I'll let you know if I see them," grandma said.

"That's the fourth time this year some tenants disappeared," he said.

"Kids these days," my grandma said. She closed and latched the door. Then she stopped by the vacuum and gave it a friendly pat, just like it was a pet dog. She loves that thing.

The Captives of the Lost City of Alhassar

Chapter 3

By Dwayne MacInnes

I froze momentarily as I noticed in the dark two flaming red orbs rising from the box I held in my hand. I do not need to tell you that freezing in horror like this can be very unhealthy for a thief. I completely forgot to finish my spell and could only stare in fascination as the two orbs rose up to the level of my eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were female. Well, in any case I can't thank you enough for finally freeing me from that beastly chest," the voice said.

I slowly realized that the red orbs were the "thing's" eyes and it was now looking at me face to face. I still had a hard time regaining my composure and the first words out of my mouth were not to summon my dark sight spell, but instead a simple, "Who are you?"

"Why I guess you could say I am nobody," the thing said and then began to laugh.

The laughter put me enough at ease that my mind finally relaxed and I was able to function. Before the voice finished its laughing, I summoned the dark sight spell again.

There standing in front of me, or more accurately floating, was a disembodied skull.

"Get it? Nobody, because I have no body," the skull explained.

"Yeah, I get it," I replied dryly. "How did you end up as...?" I trailed off, for I could not figure out how exactly to phrase my question.

"As a disembodied floating skull that has two flaming red orbs in its eye sockets and can talk?" the skull finished. "Well, I wasn't always in this state. I used to be an apprentice to a mighty mage. Being ambitious, one day I found a tome hidden by my master.

"I asked myself, ‘Mobius, (for that is my real name) what arcane knowledge does this book contain?'

"I knew that if I could find some secret spell that would allow me to attain greatness in a hurry my boring internship would be at an end. So, I opened the book and began to read.

"The words were captivating. But, not in the usual sense. They literally capture my mind and I could not stop reading. The words tumbled out of my mouth and an enchantment began to build. First, I noticed that my skin began to dissolve. I did not feel any pain for my entire focus was on the words that I could not tear myself away from speaking aloud.

"Then my legs disappeared, yet I did not drop to the ground. I kept on speaking and I tried to force myself away from the book. It was not long after that my torso and then my arms vanished. Yet the book did not drop. Finally, in a last desperate attempt, I ushered up every ounce of willpower and I tore my eyes away from the book.

"So here I am a floating skull because I was able to quit while I was a head," the skull started laughing again. "Get it? A head, because I am a head."

"Yeah, I get it," I replied dryly. "That isn't what really happened was it?"

"Well, no. I used to be a jester and I pissed off a wizard," Mobius replied.

"And the chest?" I queried further.

"He figured he would use me as a bookend. I can tell you that being a bookend is rather dull, so I used to tell jokes to amuse myself. I guess he did not have much of a sense of humor for he boxed me up and dropped me down a privy," Mobius said. "Imagine dropping me down the toilet like that and in a box that only he had the key to. How rude!

"Thank the Gods you were able to open the lock. I can't tell you how long I've been down here. I also can't tell you how many people have tried to open the box and failed.

"So in gratitude I, Mobius, King of the jesters and jester to the king is at your service."

"I believe I've heard someone else use that line before," I said.

"Stole it from me I'm sure."

I soon started my travels down the corridor again with a floating skull now following me. The one advantage of a floating skull is that they generally do not make noise. Well, I guess the average floating skull does not. I really do not know how many floating skulls there are but I can only assume that not all of them chatter incessantly as Mobius does.

It took me quite some time to press upon Mobius to be silent before I returned him to the box. I guess that did it because Mobius just hovered there for a moment with his mandible agape before he finally clapped it shut with an audible click.

Soon, we again encountered torches lighting the corridor. I took advantage of every shadow and obstacle as I made my way down the hall. I probably would have been less conspicuous if I did not have this floating skull hovering over me everywhere I went.

Fortunately, we did not encounter anything, not even a giant rat. Eventually, we found a stout wooden door set into the side of the hallway. The door boasted a barred window that usually spoke to the fact it guarded a gaol or dungeon. As quickly as I did with the box containing Mobius, I had the lock on the door picked.

I swung it open slowly and started to creep in when I suddenly stopped.

"Ah, you know Mobius, we need a rear guard here. Do you think you can handle it?" I inquired.

"Not a problem, mate. I'll keep my eyes peeled," again the skull started to laugh. "Get it? Peeled, because my eyes have no lids and are peeled."

"Yeah, I get it," I replied dryly. "Just keep it down so no one can hear you and warn me if you see or hear anything coming this way."

"Right-o. Cheers," Mobius replied as I started down the hall.

I did not have far to go before I came upon a large room lined with cells. The first few cells contained a person stripped down to her undergarments. It was curious that there was no guard on duty. Nonetheless, I crept up to the first cell containing a female orc wearing only a dirty shift.

Thank the Gods for that, because no one should ever see an orc in anything less than a shift. Well, unless it is another orc I suppose.

I peered around the bars and studied the orc for a while. She was sitting on the edge of a wooden cot stuffed with filthy straw. Her mottled green head was in her hands as she grumbled below her breath.

"Psst," I hissed to get her attention. The orc's head shot up and stared at me in surprise.

"By the blood of Uranus!" she exclaimed.

"What?!" I replied in surprise.

"Huh?" she replied in turn, "You do not know of Uranus the god of the sky?"

"Oh," I said, as I finally understood what she said. "Sorry, thought you meant something else.

"I'm here to save you and your party."

The orc ran over to the bars in excitement, "That is wonderful. With my group and yours we should be able to defeat the vampires who have taken up residence down here."

The Veterinarian

Part Three (The End)

By Douglas E. Gogerty

"What is that crack suppose to me?" Ben asked me.

"Oh! Nothing," I replied.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Yes -- please continue..."

"Because I didn't ask for your help, and I don't need your help."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"So, where was I?"

"You were explaining how the voice seemed like it was trying to tune in your brain."

"Right!" responded Ben. "It went on for weeks, and I was beginning to get the feeling that it would never happen. However, one day it was clear as a bell. The voice and I could finally communicate both ways."

"What did the voice say?"

"Patience my friend -- patience -- I'm getting to it."

"Once again, I apologize."

"Naturally, the voice is not a valid name because it occurs completely in my own brain. Hence, at first I asked fairly mundane questions. Things like 'what is your name?', 'where do you live?', and the like. Simple questions allowed my new friend to get a handle on the technology on his end."

"His?" I asked.

"While I don't know if his or her has any meaning where they are, the voice was male in my brain. Thus, I use the masculine. In any event, the name question was more difficult than either of us thought. I still don't have a handle on what his name is. It just goes to show how much culture has an effect upon names. Thus, I called him 'Hank' and he was okay with that. You may have noticed that I spoke aloud to Hank. We found it easier for him to know what I was trying to say by speaking out loud."

"Why was that?"

"Apparently, the area of the brain used for speaking is easier for their technology to reach than if you just think the words. Once the communications problems were mostly ironed out, it was time to get to the meat of the reason he was reaching out to me.

"Hank is the intelligence officer for a mostly peaceful race, who happen to be at war with a particular nasty race. One of the tactics of this warring race is to take advantage of the peaceful nature of Hank's people and attack a neutral third planet. His department discovered that they were going to use this tactic upon our planet."

"Let me get this straight," I interrupted. "There were two races at war, and one of them was going to attack us."

"Right," Ben replied. "In that way, Hank's race would have to allocate resources to help us out. This tactic would work to his enemy's advantage."

"And you believed him?"

"Of course not, but I heard him out. Their enemy has this technology that allows them to enter a planet via a wormhole type technology. They pick a latitude at random and they have to be half way between the equator and the pole. Thus, they have to enter at 45 degrees north or south at the longitude that they select. It just so happens that my parlor is exactly 45 degrees north. Further, according to Hank, it was at their selected latitude."

"So, these aliens were going to invade through some sort of hole in your parlor?" I asked with a great deal of skepticism, but I tried hard not to sound sarcastic.

"That is about how I felt. However, Hank said there was an easy way to stop them."

"The plates?" I asked.

"Yes. There is something in ceramic plates that blocks their matter transference equipment. Further, if we have our shield enabled, when they enable their transference equipment, Hank's people will be able to knock it out. Thus, we won't have anything to worry about after that."

"So, why were you wearing the aluminum foil hat?"

"The plates also block some of his communication abilities; thus, I need some sort of amplification method."

"I guess that makes sense. I do have a question though."

"What is that?"

"Was this your first psychotic episode?"

"You think I'm crazy..."

"Perhaps it is stress, or something more serious. However, you have to realize that this scenario you have just outlined is impossible."

"So, you think it all happened in my head."

"Yes. No aliens. No invasion. None of it."

"So what happens now?"

"I cannot force you into anything, and it is simply my inexperienced opinion. Perhaps there is something behind this. You should see a doctor and get a checkup. Perhaps it is some sort of toxin localized in that room."

"Your localized toxins is just as crazy."

"Yeah, I know. I was just theorizing, but there must be some logical explanation for this."

"And, you think that what I just outlined is illogical."

"Honestly I can't think of any other way to put it," I said as we walked towards the parlor.

"Do you think it is the first step towards Alzheimer's?"

"I wouldn't think of commenting on that," I said taking a plate off the wall and examining it. "You *should* see a doctor, and he or she should be able to determine what is going on."

"I guess there is no harm in that."

"What?" I asked.

"I said -- I guess there is no harm in that."

"I heard that, I mean the other thing."

"I did not say anything else."

"You clearly said something about the plate."

"That wasn't me."

"Stop with your tricks!"

"I'm telling you -- I'm not doing anything."

"If you don't cut it out," I asserted. "I'll break this plate!"

"Honestly, I'm not doing anything," insisted Ben.

"Okay! Okay! Okay!" I screamed. "I'll put it back!"

I replaced the plate, and it stopped. I looked around, and saw Ben looking at me with great concern.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, and so are you."

"What?" he asked.

"It is my expert opinion that you're fine. It'll be all over soon, and we can go on with our lives. You're fine, and I'm fine."

"You now think I do *not* need to see a doctor..."

"Yes. There is nothing wrong with you. Going to a doctor will probably only make things worse."

"Very good."

"Thanks for your time -- and the coffee -- Ben," I told him. "I think I'll be heading home now."

"Thanks for checking up on -- my animals," he replied. "Come back anytime."

I have gone back to see Ben a few times. The plates are now down, and his parlor has returned to normal. Neither of us speak of the incident, we just talk about his animals. I wonder if he saved the world, or if we both had an episode. In any event, that was one of my most interesting cases -- and days.

Green is the Light

A Poem

By Douglas E. Gogerty

The Captives of the Lost City of Alhassar

Chapter 2

By Dwayne MacInnes

There are many ways into the city sewer, most of them quite well known. However, I did not want anyone to notice my entrance -- in the unlikely event someone was on the lookout for a person such as me investigating the disappearance of the party of adventurers.

I am good friends with a certain proprietor of a food stall, you may have heard of his shop, "Lord of the Onion Rings". He has been known to be interested in certain... ah, artifacts that are not strictly legal. So, we have an agreement for our mutual benefit. Now, this businessman has a secret entrance behind his stall that leads to the sewers. He figures it is wise to have an escape route close to where he works and lives. I cannot argue, though personally the sewers would not be my first choice.

To say the least, I found my way into the city sewers without anyone the wiser. One thing many people do not realize is that sewers are not only smelly but also quite dark. I have stated before that most elves can see in low light, but are utterly blind in pitch darkness. I have also stated that I know a night sight spell that only lasts a minute that allows me to see in complete darkness.

It has been a quest of mine to find a spell, talisman, or enchanted trinket that would to allow me to see in the dark for extended periods of time. So far, my search has been futile. I have located spells that would allow me to generate light. However, if this were what I truly wanted any torch or lantern would serve my purpose. Alas, I again found myself forced with muttering that simple spell every sixty seconds.

One should note, it is not easy to mutter any spell, including simple ones, when you are gagging over the smell of a city's accumulation of filth. Sure, the underground waterworks are supposed to wash away the sewage into the nearby river; however, we are talking about thousands of people voiding themselves several times a day. Further, the annual maintenance had not happened yet. So the occasional dam or stagnate pool of waste were starting to accumulate.

I choked out the spell that allowed me a quick view of where I was. I think it may have been better not knowing exactly what was around me. Nonetheless, I started on my quest. It was not long before I picked up the trail of the adventurers. Seeing as how they were composed mainly of the non-rogue types and stealth was not in their main interest, I did not have much difficulty.

With a piece of cloth wrapped over my mouth and nose, I was able to keep the worst of the vile scent a bay. At least, I would like to believe I was. In any case, I continued to gag and choke out my incantation that allowed me to navigate through the dark and damp sewers.

I quickly came across an old campsite the party of adventurers had prepared a week or more ago. The charred remains of a campfire lay upon the cold and slimy flagstones of the sewer floor. I guess no one bothered to warn the party that having a fire down in the sewers was risky at best.

A pocket of confined methane gas could easily explode any unwitting party member to smithereens. Despite the adequate ventilation of the sewers, this catastrophe has happened more than once in the past. Fortunately, the sewer's construction was first rate, so the pressure from the blasts tended to funnel down the long corridors.

Sometimes the blasts would actually help the maintenance crew by removing many of the obstacles that obstructed the optimal function of the sewers. These maintenance crews would often contain at least one mage or priest that could conjure up a decent light spell to help them navigate and work in this subterranean world. Thus, most fires were unnecessary.

It was obvious that the party I was after did not meet with such a fate because their footprints led further down the dank and smelly corridor. I kept my short sword ready in case I came upon one of the denizens of the sewers. These were mostly composed of giant rats. These animals about the size of a large dog somehow thrived down here. I do not even want to think about what they ate in order to survive.

I did not travel far when I came to the scene of a struggle. It appeared that another group of humanoids ambushed the adventurers at this point. I could easily read from the footprints and blood splatters against the walls that the fight went poorly for the adventurers. The party's struggle was not very long and they were quickly subdued and taken prisoner.

I should point out that not only giant rats live in the sewers. Those seeking to escape from the eye of the law or civilization often made their way down here. That is why many of the maintenance crews often employ a novice member of the Fighters Guild or two. Of course, if there were any such people down here, the maintenance crews hoped the annual party of adventures would take care of them first.

Unfortunately, it looks like the adventurers were the ones who were the worst of it this time. I could not understand immediately why the ambushers did not just dispatch the party and dump their bodies in the deep channels of raw sewage that ran down the middle of the corridors. I could tell that the unfortunate adventurers became the unwelcome guest of some other party.

I followed the trail as it wound down the labyrinthine corridors and over more than a few bridges that occasionally crossed the river of filth. Occasionally the bones of rats and other small mammals littered the slime-covered flags. I stealthily and unerringly followed a trail until it led to a blank wall.

I have had experience with trails suddenly stopping at walls to know that I had come across a secret entrance. It only took me a couple of moments to find the trigger, a rusted iron ring set in the stone floor, which opened the door.

I quickly slipped passed the door before it slid back to the closed position. Here I found the random torch set into the wall. As I sighed in relief from not having to mutter that infernal dark sight spell again, I realized that the smell of sewage diminished noticeably. That or I was finally getting used to it.

A quick glance in the flickering light revealed several shattered crates and barrels littering one of side of the new corridor. This tunnel was not an original part of the sewers and led straight from the wall. I also noticed that amongst the debris of shattered containers there appeared an iron bound chest about the size of a hatbox.

The quality of the lock told me that something of great value must be stored inside. My lock picks made quick work of the lock. As I flung open the top, a gust of wind blew from the box extinguishing the torch and leaving me in pitch black.

I was in mid mutter of renewing my dark sight when I heard a voice echo across the corridor.

"Ah, thanks old chap. It was getting a little musty in there."

The Veterinarian

Part Two

By Douglas E. Gogerty

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" Ben asked me.

"My name is Robert Adams, I am a veterinarian," I replied.

"And that gives you the right to come into my house?"

"Ummm -- no I guess not. It was just -- er -- uh..."

"Go on, spit it out!"

"Your niece was worried, and she sent me up here to check in -- on -- your animals."

"She was worried about my animals more than me?"

"She did mention that you had been acting strangely."

"And she sent a veterinarian to check up on me?"

"I think she wanted some sort of medical person to check on you. It wouldn't be my first time diagnosing humans, and to be honest, you are wearing a tinfoil hat."

"Actually, it is aluminum foil -- what of it?"

"You know that there have been studies that have determined that such hats may act as an amplifier rather than a shield."

"Naturally, that is why I am wearing it."

"Huh?"

"If it were actually tinfoil, it would block the signal."

"Are you telling me that it was a government cover-up to switch from tin foil to aluminum foil?"

"Are you crazy? Aluminum is much more common than tin, it does not impart a taste upon the food it wraps, and it is highly recyclable. It makes complete sense to use aluminum over tin."

"I am glad to hear you say that, and Alcoa probably is too."

"So, how are my animals?" Ben asked to change the subject.

"They appear fine. Although, I am concerned about the feral cats in your barn."

"You are a vet aren't you?"

"Of course, you didn't think..."

"I didn't know what to think -- probably -- like you when you saw me sitting here."

"Do you want to explain?"

"It is kind of a long story."

"I had a good meal at your niece's place, and I was just about to head home. However, I've got time."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure."

"We can take this into the kitchen," Ben said as he took off his hat.

I followed Ben into the kitchen where Ben poured us each a cup of coffee. I followed his lead and sat at the kitchen table. We both sat silent for an instant as Ben thought about where to begin.

"You're probably wondering about the hat and the plates," Ben eventually said after taking a sip of coffee.

"You could say that," I replied.

"I don't know how to begin without sounding crazy."

"That is a conundrum."

"Okay, so about three months ago, I went into the parlor there to get something. Out of nowhere, I hear this voice. It wasn't exactly a voice, but it sounded like a cry or a call. Like anyone, I just thought it was the wind or my mind playing tricks on me. I thought it was nothing, and I went on with what I was doing."

Ben took another sip of coffee, thought for a moment, and then continued.

"I did not hear the voice again, until I returned to the parlor. In fact, I became frightened of even entering the parlor for the thought of hearing the voice. I went for days avoiding the parlor, and I never heard any voices outside of the parlor.

"I searched the outside of the room for cracks and whatnot. I wanted to eliminate the wind at first. I caulked all of the cracks, and I even used a bug bomb. Thus, that would eliminate animals and insects playing tricks on me.

"As you may have guessed, the voice was not very distinct. I could not make out any words, but there was some sort of voice. I assumed it was trying to communicate with me."

"Did you think the room was haunted?" I asked.

"I never believed in ghosts, but this started to make me a believer. Thus, I went onto the internet for advice on 'exorcising' my poltergeist. In an effort to give the spirit rest, I started spending more time in the room; however, it had the opposite effect. The more time I spent in the room, the clearer the voice became. What started out to be sort of a 'hey' became more complicated. Also, the voice became more persistent and more frequent. Thus, it eventually became less of a disembodied sound and more of an actual voice."

"You do realize that all of this was happening in your head don't you?" I remarked.

"Yes. There was no physical person there, so I knew it was occurring all in my head. However, I wondered what it was and why it was only happening in the parlor. My curiosity was peeked, and therefore, I spent even more time in the parlor. What was at first a fear of the room became somewhat of an obsession."

"This is when you family first noticed you not leaving the house," I added.

"Unfortunately, that was a side-effect. I had to know what it wanted to say -- or do. Thus, I spent as much time as I could in the room. I ate in there and slept. I wanted to know what the voice had to say."

"What was that like?" I asked with great curiosity.

"It was like trying to tune in a station on a very touchy radio. Whatever it was would occasionally hit something, but would zoom right past. It was a very painstaking process and sometimes very frustrating. Primarily this was because I was not in control. Whoever had the remote would zoom right past whatever showed promise."

"So, do you think it was some sort of radio communication you were picking up?" I inquired.

"That is more of an analogy than actuality," replied Ben after taking another sip of coffee. "Our brains are complicated, and our brains give off varying brain-waves for lack of a better term. Thus, if someone was attempting to communicate with us via telepathy, they would have to tune into a particular brain pattern."

"Telepathy!" I exclaimed.

"It was the only conclusion I could make. Someone -- or something -- was studying my brain to communicate with me via telepathy. All I could do is go through a normal series of actions, and let -- whatever -- study how my particular brain operates. Thus, eventually the disembodied voice would actually be able to communicate."

"Communicate with you via telepathy?" I asked. "What is this -- some sort of science fiction story?"

Lost

A Poem

By Linda Heuer

The Captives of the Lost City of Alhassar

Chapter 1

By Dwayne MacInnes

Greetings and felicitations, I am Gwendolyn a wood elf and wealth adjuster. You do not know what a wealth adjuster is? The easy answer is that I am a thief. However, that title carries many negative connotations with it that are not strictly accurate. To be sure, there are thieves and then there are thieves. Now that I have muddied the waters a bit let me clear up some things in our profession.

Most thieves belong to the Thieves Guild. Our organization regulates and set strict rules that our members must follow. In exchange, members receive some degree of legal protection. Now, there are rogue thieves, who do not belong to the guild. I fear to say these rogues give us all a bad name. These unregulated thieves will steal and rob from anyone. They do not refrain from using violence to obtain their goals that can even lead to ghastly murders.

To be sure, we as a guild, hunt down these rogues. We cannot afford to have anyone using our title running amok doing whatever he or she very well pleases just to obtain a handful of silver crowns. Some of the rules are that we do not rob from the poor, nor do we rob from fellow members. We also frown on using violence to rob someone. Furthermore, we do not condone murder. Only in the case of self-defense is a guild member allowed to use violence. After all, any idiot can club someone from behind and lift his or her coin purse.

Now that I have established my profession, I will now regale you with who I am. In previous publications, I established that I became the Grand Champion of the arena in Imperial City. Many know me by my title as the "Black Arrow". Unfortunately, many more know me by the romanticized and embellished woodcuts printed in fliers. These show me in the arena as an Amazon -- sans any piece of garment for modesty -- often holding a severed head in my left hand and a raised gore covered long sword in my right.

I cannot tell you how many people are a little disappointed to see a lithe average built Wood Elf armed mainly with a bow when I tell them who I am. The Imperial Arena loves good promotion and nothing packs the arena better than the idea of a naked muscle-bound woman in combat. Nonetheless, I can still fill the seats when I make my special post-retirement engagements in the arena.

Therefore, you now know my official profession as a retired gladiator and you know I belong to the guild. However I am not merely a guild member, I am also the leader of the Thieves Guild. That is right I am the Shadow Fox.

Many of you dear readers may doubt the existence of the Thieves Guild and more will doubt the existence of the Shadow Fox. However, I can assure you both exist and we take great pains on making sure that the general public is mostly unaware of either one.

As the Shadow Fox, I am even an enigma to most thieves in the guild. However, I am the overall head of the organization. With the help of the guild leaders, we assign various tasks to the most suited thieves. Believe it or not, most of our work comes from the government. We are adept on securing secrets, restoring lost possessions, and just knowing the everyday buzz on the street.

To be fair, we are not the only organization often employed by the Empire. The members of the senate often use the Assassins Guild to settle debts in a less subtle manner. To say there is a rivalry between the Assassins and the Thieves Guilds would be an understatement. Fortunately, when it comes to being unnoticed the Thieves Guild will always beat the Dark Brotherhood.

Now, as I was saying, being the head of the guild sounds prestigious. Unfortunately, it is also a lot of paperwork and sitting behind a desk. So every once in awhile I would assign myself a task, much to the chagrin of the guild leaders, just to keep myself in tip-top condition.

It came to pass that a few months after the whole "Tiberium Letters" affair that a group of adventurers found their way into Imperial City. Word quickly passed around that they were associates of Brunis, the evil mage I killed in Giland. I knew that one of these strangers was a mage. If they were looking for revenge, a little research with the Mages Guild would discover my suspension from that organization over the fortunate (or unfortunate) demise of Brunis.

I also took the time to scout this quartet of adventurers. I heard many things and learned even more. I heard the so-called ranger had killed a dragon. On observing him moving clumsily around town I figured the dragon was old and decided to choose ‘suicide by knight' which is more common than you can imagine.

There was a rogue thief claiming the name of King of the North. A fairly good thief I will begrudge but not much of a fighter. However, I would choose him over the ranger to back me in a scrap. I kept my spies on him to make sure he did not try anything disruptive in town.

The party also boasted of a bard. He was a decent singer and tale-teller, but with dubious tastes of the carnal nature. I fear his hormones tend to make most of his decisions. Not too terribly good if one is attacked by a succubus, nymph, or even a group of choirboys.

The final member of the party was a sorcerer of average quality. However, his street smarts bespoke of some time traveling with a troupe of performers. I can tell you that if I had the thief under watch I had the sorcerer under double watch. He was the one rumored to be an associate of Brunis.

I soon put any concerns I needed to fear this band of adventurers to rest. They were at best a group of amateurs. Nonetheless, I decided it was best for all involved if I left town for a while. As I previously stated we thieves do not kill if we do not have to. There would be no honor in dispatching this small group.

It so happened that the Emperor had sent another group of adventurers into the city sewers for its annual clean up. Now, a maintenance organization makes sure the city's sewers operate efficiently; however over the course of a year, things move into the sewer. Nasty things and the Emperor will pay handsomely for a group of adventurers to clean them out.

Usually, the adventurers are lower ability and desperate. The money is good, but the danger is great, and the smell is even worse. It happened that no one had heard from the latest group for over two weeks. The Emperor had petitioned the Thieves Guild to look into it. I personally accepted.

I grabbed my trusty longbow, elven armor, short sword, and my enchanted shield that dispels all forms of hostile magic as well as a few other do-dads. Little did I know I was about to engage in one of the strangest adventures of my life.

The Veterinarian

Part One

By Douglas E. Gogerty

I have a very interesting job. I am a veterinarian in a very sparsely populated area of America. In fact, the animals greatly outnumber people here. So, I am kept pretty busy, and I travel almost constantly. After all, if a 2000 pound bull is sick, it is kind of difficult to get him in the truck and get him to the vets office. So, I have to make house calls.

While I have a house in Sheridan Wyoming, I am seldom there. My truck has all of the medical equipment I need, plus a bed. Sometimes my client puts me up for the night, but often I'll be off to the next stop. There are times when I spend the night in between places. It is difficult sometimes, but I meet all kinds of interesting people, and I deal with all kinds of interesting cases.

For instance, on one particular day, I helped a dog with a snake bite, and a snake with a dog bite. On another occasion, I helped get a cow down off a barn, and get a mule out of a well. Thus, on any particular call, you never know what you'll run into next.

To be honest, I do have my share of mundane days. I have spayed and neutered plenty of dogs and cats. I have dealt with plenty cantankerous animals. However, overall I love my job.

Nonetheless, with the remoteness of some of the areas, I am the only medical person some of the people see. Hence, I am called upon, on occasion, to offer some advice on the treatment of people. Mostly, if the problem seems serious enough, I recommend that they see a people doctor. However, I can treat sprains and strains if called upon to do so.

Sometimes, the interesting part of my day is the people I am asked to observe and diagnose. One particular case always comes to my mind when I think of my most interesting cases.

It was a fairly mundane day. I was checking a herd of cattle for various inflictions. This herd got a clean bill of health, and the family invited me in for dinner. I graciously accepted. After all, I was fairly close to home. With a good meal in me, I would be looking forward to sleeping in my own bed that night.

I thought that they were celebrating the health of their herd because they really put on a feast that night. It was only later that I discovered their ulterior motive. They were worried about their Uncle Ben; however, they were not worried about his physical health.

Uncle Ben was a high school math teacher in Cheyenne for many years. His kids were grown and moved out of the state. His wife died a few years ago, and he retired to a small cottage near the Wyoming/Montana border.

The family would check on him every now and again, and he seemed to be doing well on his own. However, not that long ago, they noticed a change in his behavior. Uncle Ben's family tried to get him to talk about it, but he refused. At any rate, that is what they told me.

Further, since I was in the neighborhood, they told me I could drop in to check his animals. That would give me an excuse to talk to the old man. They felt that someone with a medical background would be able to help Uncle Ben with whatever was bothering him.

While I was suspicious of the situation, I grudgingly accepted the challenge. I received directions to Uncle Ben's cabin and was off with a bag of cookies and some leftovers. I am not sure if they were for me or him, but nonetheless, I had them.

The family made it seem like Uncle Ben's place was not far. Perhaps it was not far as the crow flies, but the winding road took me far and wide. It was over an hour before I reached the turnoff to Uncle Ben's place.

As I drove up, I was greeted by a friendly mixed breed dog. Since my excuse for coming was a veterinary trip, I gave her a quick check. There were no signs of abuse. She appeared to be well fed, and she looked as if she had plenty of exercise.

I wandered around the property briefly. He had no livestock that I could see. I found no chickens, pigs, or cattle. This was not unusual for a retired person. Ranching is difficult work.

I did spot a few feral cats living in a shed. They would not let me get close to them, but this type of situation is fairly normal in many agricultural areas. They keep the rodent population in check, but require little intervention from people. While that type of situation pushes my buttons, it is the way some people think.

I decided that I would offer to spay the cats for Uncle Ben at no charge. Thus, the population of feral cats would not grow unchecked. At least, it would be a good excuse for coming along with the family recommendation.

From the looks of it, this house was probably once the ranch hands house. A wealthy ranch owner would normally live in a large main house. However, some of the hired help would live closer to the herd. This house looked just sort of structure for this purpose. Nonetheless, it was a fine place for a retired widower.

I walked onto the porch and knocked. I waited for several seconds, and knocked again. Their was no answer. I walked around the house to see if I could spot anyone inside. I did not see anyone, and I thought that was strange.

The family had told me that he rarely left the house anymore. Perhaps their fears were unfounded after all. However, I saw his car in the garage, so he did not drive anywhere. Maybe he simply went for a walk.

I looked around for a little while longer, but I did not spot him anywhere. I decided to knock once again. There was still no answer, so I decided to try the door. It was not locked.

"Hello?" I called as I cautiously walked inside the house.

I did not hear a response to my words, but I did hear some mumbling in one of the rooms towards the back of the house.

"Ben?" I asked as I slowly ventured farther into the house.

There still was no response. However, I was getting closer to sounds inside. It sounded as if Uncle Ben was having a conversation on the phone. I thought that he was on an important call, and he did not want to be interrupted. That is why he did not reply to my knocks and calls.

I continued towards the voice I heard. I found a door. Clearly, Uncle Ben was on the other side. I opened the door, and Uncle Ben was sitting their with a tinfoil pyramid hat on his head, and the walls of the room were covered in kitchen plates. Furthermore, he was alone and not on the phone.

The Thrill of the Slide

A Poem

By Douglas E. Gogerty

March 1994 (Published "Minnesota Daily")

A Friend to Die For

Part Two

By Dwayne MacInnes

Raylondo stood up from the stool and placed the large wooden case upon the seat he just vacated. He opened it up to reveal several vials, flasks, bottles, and strange implements that Jarlis could only guess to what use they were intended.

The assassin then removed his long coat and hat. Afterwards, he neatly folded them and placed them upon a nearby shelf. He took a moment or two to straighten his shimmering, red silk shirt before he returned his attention to the man sitting shivering in bed.

Jarlis continued to find new depths of terror as he watched helplessly as the assassin went about undressing his outer rain garments. Raylondo continuously smiling his amiable smile did not relax Jarlis at all. It only heightened his fears for it revealed the fact the assassin was in complete control.

"Now before your paralyzed mind thinks of it, please do not scream out for help. I really do not want to kill more than I have too," the assassin said in a friendly tone.

The man in bed mentally kicked himself for not thinking of the obvious. Any female or even the smallest babe would have cried out alarm. Yet, he -- a grown and prosperous man -- became too frozen with fear even to contemplate such an action. However, he knew the wisdom of the assassin's words. Jarlis was a dead man and there was no reason to bring anyone else down with him.

"H-how..." Jarlis began to stammer before Raylondo interrupted him.

"How did I get past your guards?" the assassin asked in a calm voice. "I'm no thief to be sure, but I did have to incapacitate your entire body of arms men. Now relax I did not kill anyone and they are not to blame. Right now, they are sleeping from a draught I put in their drinks tonight. However, the small dosage of poison I also added will not kill anyone, but will leave them quite immobilized for the next day and a half."

"W-why..." stammered Jarlis before Raylondo again finished his sentence.

"Why was I sent? Come now. You know your publications have been unflattering to the councilman. Your constant reminders of his corruption have the man desperate to be rid of you and therefore end your posts.

"Brill hired me to take care of it because he still holds his early friendship with you dear. As you know, I am not just a member of the Assassins Guild, but the best and most expensive member. I do special requests.

"Now please do not make that face. We members of the dark brotherhood get that a lot. We do prefer that others realize us as specialized bounty hunters. We just bring ‘em in dead," the assassin chuckled at his little joke. However, Jarlis just sank down in his bed, bringing his blankets up to his face.

"Please do relax. I am here to offer you the form of death you prefer," continued Raylondo.

"What? I don't get it," Jarlis lowered the blankets and peered at the assassin.

With a wave of his hand towards the open case, Raylondo brought the man's attention to its contents.

"I can offer you any means of death you prefer. I have iocane powder. Odorless, tasteless, and undetectable," Raylondo said lifting up a silver tube.

"I can offer you any psychotropic you prefer," the assassin said now holding up several flasks in succession.

"I have a silk pillow stuffed with the finest gosling down to wisp you away to oblivion," Raylondo offered Jarlis the red pillow for his own inspection.

Jarlis could not help be taken in with the turn of events. He studied the pillow and nodded his head in approval.

"That is very nice," Jarlis offered. "Anything else?"

"Surely and definitely. I have the finest bottle of Elven Ambrosia wine I can lace with any poison without disrupting its flavor. I can cook you the finest meal any master chef could prepare using my ingredients here so your last sup will be your best.

"If your whims are of a more carnal manner, I know of certain females who could send you away in the midst of the greatest ecstasy."

"No, no," chuckled the condemned man, "my days of womanizing are long past. Nor could I long enjoy any fine meal you could prepare. My stomach is much too delicate for such."

"Anything you request I am at your disposal. Save of course sparing your life. I cannot afford to ruin my reputation," Raylondo quickly added.

"I wouldn't think of it," Jarlis said. "I think maybe the best would be a sleeping draught with some psychotropic mixed in the Ambrosia. If I can't enjoy those corporeal things you mentioned, I can at least taste them in the dream realm. Then if you don't mind I would like very much to be finished off with this pillow while in the midst paradise."

Raylondo smiled and bowed, "excellent choice."

The assassin began mixing various flasks, tubes, and bottles. Jarlis watched with great curiosity and anticipation.

"I would like one last request," the condemned man asked.

"Yes?" Raylondo said looking up from his work.

"I would like to pen a final letter to my friend Brill. I assume you have some ink in that case of yours."

Raylondo smiled and nodded.

It took only a few minutes for Jarlis to finish his last testament to Brill while Raylondo concluded his preparations.

"Ooh, I can't wait," Jarlis said with genuine excitement.

"I do aim to please," Raylondo said offering Jarlis a chalice of the special brew.

Jarlis took the proffered chalice and drank deeply. Within seconds, he lay upon his pillow with a deep smile upon his face.

"Sleep well," Raylondo said as he lifted the silk pillow.

"So did he die well?" councilman Brill inquired in his own bedchambers.

"Yes, here is evidence penned by his own hand your grace," Raylondo offered the letter to Brill.

	Dear Brill,
            I too remember our younger days and look
	upon them fondly. A pity we took such varying
	paths as we grew older. Yours were ambitious
	and corrupt. Mine were to expose you for what
	you are.
            Nonetheless, I thank you for allowing me
	to die in a manner of my own choosing. I however
	regret to inform you I did not return the favor.
            You will find that the ink on this paper will be
	just as lethal as the death I chose. I can't wait to
	see you in the nine hells.
					Jarlis

Brill looked at the ink upon his fingers and then towards Raylondo. Fear began to sink in.

"But we had a contract..." the councilman began.

"Yes and it was concluded. Now the contract I had with Jarlis is also concluded," Raylondo replied hefting the small bag of gems. "Don't worry. Death will come upon you quickly and painlessly. Maybe it would be best if you sit down."

The councilman nodded as he sat upon a chair in his bedchamber.

"I wish you a good-night," the assassin said as he exited the room.

M.O.P.S. in Space

Chapter Fifteen

By Douglas E. Gogerty

"Well, we're dead," insisted Kelly.

"Don't be ridiculous," responded Angus. "I got a merit badge in orienteering. I can get us back to the convention hall."

"Okay Mr. Orienteering," replied Kelly. "Which way is north?"

"For that matter, which direction is the convention center?" added Tommy.

"Unfortunately, we'll have to wait for the sun to come up before I can answer the first question. However, we can walk around a bit to see if we find anything familiar."

"Well, I am not in the least bit tired," added Victor.

"What do we have to lose?" Kelly said.

"If we do not make it back to the Convention Center," responded Tommy. "Our bus may leave without us."

"I was asking a rhetorical question," replied Kelly.

"Oh," Tommy acknowledged.

The quartet walked around for several hours. They completely lost track of where they were, as they could not even make it back to the government building they had left. They continued to walk as darkness gave way to morning.

"North is that way," Angus pointed out as he looked at the sun.

"How do you know their sun rises in the east?" asked Victor.

"By definition," responded Angus curtly.

"Can we find someplace to eat?" asked Tommy.

"I am hungry too," added Kelly.

"Is that all you two think about?" asked Angus.

"Of course not," answered Tommy. "But we have been walking all night, and I'm too tired to think about other things."

"Also, it has been almost a day since he's had a gin and tonic," joked Victor.

"Gin and tonic!" came a cry from across the street.

"There is where we'll eat," stated Angus as if he knew the café was there all along.

Angus waved his remaining bills, and the staff brought course after course of food. Despite being early in the morning, Angus and Tommy had gin and tonics. Kelly tried to get some sort of juice, but was unsuccessful. He settled for soda. Victor's request for milk was right out! He too settled for soda.

The group ate until they could eat no more. Angus handed over the bills, and the quartet rested a while at their table. They enjoyed the early morning sun for a short time, and then they arose to continue their journey.

They asked a few people where the convention center was, but they got nothing intelligible back. They were no closer to finding their way back than they were in the middle of the night. However, fate soon smiled upon them. Kelly recognized a landmark. It was the statue they had seen the first night.

"Are you sure?" asked Tommy.

"I stopped here for a bit -- waiting for you guys to catch up with me," replied Kelly. "Remember the Japanese tourists?"

"Nope," answered Tommy.

"I have vague recollection of it," added Angus.

"Just up that way," pointed Kelly "is that busy section where we first saw Hello Kitty™ girl."

"No," replied Angus pointing in the opposite direction. "It was that way."

"I remember it clearly," assured Victor pointing in a direction 90 degrees to Angus and Kelly. "It was that way."

"You were drunk," insisted Tommy pointing in the remaining direction. "Clearly, it is that way."

"Okay, let us think about this logically," insisted Kelly.

"That leaves you out," Angus said sarcastically.

"No hear me out," answered Kelly. "Since we got here, lots of improbable things have happened."

"Like Victor getting lucky?" asked Angus.

"Exactly," replied Kelly. "Everything we have been through has been very improbable -- a pseudo-impossibility -- if you will."

"So what you are saying is that we are still in that impossibility bubble Gogle spoke of?" inquired Tommy.

"Precisely!" replied Kelly. "And you know what that means -- don't you?"

"You mean..." Angus answered in disbelief.

"It is true," Kelly said with great confidence. "Victor must be right about the direction."

"No way!" exclaimed Tommy.

"It does make sense," added Victor with a nod.

Thus, the three MOPS members followed Victor's directions and he led them directly back to the convention center.

The cougar who got to know Victor quite well, was flirting with a navy blue individual who was supposed to be guarding the entrance. He, she, or it completely missed the four MOPS members as the entered the building.

They spotted Gogle at the far end of the hall still standing at his table. A small group had gathered around him. As the MOPS members approached, they heard him say, "And many of them say that they evolved from apes..."

The group around him burst into laughter.

"Hey wait a minute," interrupted Angus. "You guys don't believe in evolution?"

"Heavens to Mergatroid, do not be ridiculous," replied one of the group. "Everything in the universe evolves."

"Language evolves, technology evolves, there is not one thing we know of that does not evolve," added another member of the group around Gogle.

"You would have to be crazy or deluded or ignorant to not believe in evolution," finished Gogle.

"So what is so funny then?" asked Victor.

"Do you believe you evolved from apes?" asked Gogle.

"Of course!" insisted Victor.

"But," Gogle answered. "You *are* apes. Why not go a little farther back on your family tree?"

"Hey! I'm an octopod" added one of the group. "I evolved from an Octopus. Duh!"

"Is it so shameful to say you evolved from -- say -- rodents?" asked one of the group.

"Okay okay," answered Victor. "You made your point -- so can we go now?"

"Go where?" asked Gogle.

The group did not experience the same sensation as they had when they found themselves at the Intra-Galactic Comic and Gaming Convention. However, they found themselves talking to the individual with the booth pointed towards the wall. They were back on earth -- their earth.

"How long have we been gone?" asked Angus.

"Gone?" asked Gogle. "Did you go somewhere?"

"You know darn well we did," insisted Tommy.

"Alright -- alright," replied Gogle. "So you went on some sort of trip. What is it to me?"

"Was it a dream?" asked Kelly.

"According to the clock on the wall," added Angus "It must have just been a few minutes."

"So it was all in our heads," insisted Tommy.

"Then what about this?" asked Victor as he raised the shiny bucket.

A Friend to Die For

Part One

By Dwayne MacInnes

The steady clip-clop resounded upon the wet cobble road as the drenched black horse pulled a wooden covered wagon through the raining night. The well-maintained road from Imperial City was slick with water that pooled into dark puddles reflecting the scant moonlight peaking through thick black clouds until splashed by a hoof, a wheel, or a fat raindrop.

The lone driver huddled into his oiled-leather long coat with his matching floppy hat pulled down. Thus, obstructing any chance of an observer catching a glance of his visage. Both driver and horse puffed out mist as if they could breathe fire in the cool air.

On a night like this, the only observers would be the nocturnal animals either foraging or hunting in the surrounding woods. The patter of the heavy rain as it hit the leaves of the surrounding foliage competed with the creaking wagon wheels and the horse's steel shod hooves on the wet stone road. Occasionally the driver would flick the reins in his gloved hands to encourage the soaked beast of burden to keep its forward momentum.

The time had to be close to midnight when the wagon approached a large villa in a clearing. Stone walls surrounded the manor house inside, and the wooden gate was sealed tight for the night. Nonetheless, the driver reined in the horse as it neared the closed entrance. There were no lights emanating from the coarse servant shacks that dotted the newly plowed fields surrounding the walled villa.

The driver dismounted from the wagon and tied the reins to a nearby post beside the gate. The wet figure then reached under the plank bench and produced a large wooden case. The stranger tucked the bulky container under his left arm as he proceeded to push against the imposing gate with his right.

The gate swung open effortlessly betraying its apparent security. The man slipped through the gate and shut it behind him. He glanced around the darkened courtyard and found the sentry box where there resided a sleeping guard. A bottle lay tipped over upon the table where the guard sat slumbering heavily.

"Good," thought he stranger, "It appears my gift was received by the household guard. Now, I'll have to remember to bar the gate when I leave. With luck, everyone will think the Thieves Guild was involved."

The man proceeded up the rain-slick stone steps and pushed upon the large double doors. Like the gate, the doors too opened without effort. The man dodged inside and quickly closed the doors behind him. A thick red and gold shag carpet led down the hallway towards the main hall.

The stranger shook the rain off his large coat and hat, before he silently strolled towards the hall. Portraits portraying the previous tenants lined the walls of the hallway leading to the main hall. In the low light emanating through the high barred windows it appeared the eyes of the paintings followed the man. The stranger knew it was a trick of the paintings; nonetheless, he could not help the feeling that the ghosts of the keep's former owners were keeping vigil.

Once the man approached the main hall, he located the stairs and proceeded to climb them to the second story. Moving with care so that the sleeping residents would not be disturbed, the stranger reached the landing and disappeared down a darkened passage.

More by feel than sight the man found the door he was looking for. A turn of the brass knob found that the door was unsecured. The man mentally noted he would have to give the servant he bribed a bonus for a job well done.

Without a sound, the figure ducked into the room and secured the door behind him. It was of stout oak and it would take several minutes for anyone to hack his or her way through. However, the stranger did not plan to let anyone outside the room know of his presence.

The stranger walked over to the orange glowing embers of the fireplace and pulled up a stool. He set the large wooden case on the floor next to it and then began to feed the dying fire a few sticks of wood from the pile lying next to the brick fireplace. When the hungry flames grew to the stranger's satisfaction he seated himself upon the stool and observed the lone person laying in the large four-posted bed.

Jarlis awoke from a troubled sleep. The temperature in the room had grown quite uncomfortable with the thick blankets covering him. As he tossed the blankets from his body, he angrily thought how he would give a good lashing of the tongue to the servant who decided to feed the fire too much wood. He was in mid mental rant when he noticed a figure sitting next to the blazing fireplace. Jarlis suddenly sat up straight in bed with fear coursing through his veins.

Jarlis thought his heart had stopped as he noted the figure by the fire. Fine mist steamed off the stranger's long coat and floppy hat, giving the man the appearance he had just arrived from one of the nine hells.

The strange man reached down to his large case and pulled it to his lap as his low voice carried across the room to reach Jarlis's ears. "Good evening, Jarlis. I hope I haven't interrupted any good dreams."

"T-t-the gems are under the flagstone where the wood is set," the frightened man offered.

"Now, now relax. I am no...thief," the man spat the last word out with much distaste.

Jarlis swallowed twice before he could find his tongue. "Then who are you?"

The man lifted up the brim of his hat to reveal his comely face. Two sparkling dark eyes radiated from the stranger's face. He had a neatly trimmed black goatee that surrounded a well-formed smiling mouth with straight white teeth.

"I am Raylondo. I was sent from your good friend councilman Brill of Navorre," the stranger replied.

Jarlis's face lost even more color as he heard the name of the man sitting by the fire. He had to work his jaw several times before he could choke out the words. "You're the... the famous assassin."

Still smiling Raylondo only nodded his head once in affirmation.