Author's note: Again, thanks to those that commented and reviewed throughout this story. Remember, your comments keep me writing. Merry Christmas to all! Depending on how hectic the next couple of days are, I might have another chapter out on Christmas day, no promises, but I'll try.

Part 8

You know what sucks, and I mean really really sucks about having a talking sword? They never shut up. I mean, I can see being stuffed in chest surrounded by a Cloak of Pestilence or whatever that thing was for a few decades, might be a little boring, but gheeze!

“And so I said to him, HA! Have at me, knave! My wielder and I will drink your evil dragon blood! And then he said…”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I snapped.

There was a slight pause. “No… he said, ‘come hither and you shall…’”

“No,” I said on the edge of mild hysteria. “I meant for you to shut up. I swear by all the Elven gods if you say one more thing, unless I specifically ask you something, then I will take you back to Qrynn and toss you in the middle of that swamp where we left that rotting corpse of a Black Dragon.”

Five seconds went by without a sound. “Ah, blessed silence.”

“How rude…,” the sword muttered.

“That’s it! Dá»rdor, open this damn thing back up. I have a sword to drown.”

The ancient Sorcerer looked up at me from examining the greatsword, or more like the great-pain-in-my-ass-sword.

“Lady Ar’ri, you may not dispose of this minor artifact in such a way.”

My eyes widened at his refusal. “Artifact, pfft. This thing hasn’t shut up for more than a minute since I first cut into Obsydiax.”

Dá»rdor looked thoughtful. “Yes, I assumed as much. A triggering event occurred. It was likely dormant until then or perhaps it was waiting to see if you would use it for its intended purpose. What is its name?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It hasn’t mentioned anything but its past adventures, and believe me, I’m starting to think that most of it is B.S.”

Dá»rdor looked confused. “B.S.?”

“Oh, sorry, B.S. means bullsh… uh, hockey.”

That earned me the raised-eyebrow-of-disappointment from the Sorcerer. Dá»rdor seemed to have delusions of turning me into a proper Elvish Lady. Since the only other Elf around was Shae, she couldn’t be associating with the common-folk. Given my position, supposedly I’d earned a certain amount of class. I wasn’t buying it for a second.

He cleared his throat in way to let me know that we were moving on and pretending that I wasn’t thinking in a profane way.

“Perhaps you should ask the sword about its creation.”

Taking a step back from the table, I shook my head. “No way, José. I finally got that thing…”

Again, he gave me the face of expectancy.

I might have mumbled something under my breath about annoying magic users, but I’ll deny it if pressed about the issue. “Fine.”

Stepping up to the table, I looked down at the sword. “Okay, only in concise terms, without any embellishment, tell me your name and about your creation.”

I’d learned a thing or two about how to pose these types of requests in the past. There’s nothing worse than finding a perfectly good Wish spell or Magic Lamp with a Genie inside only to misspeak and totally ruin a good thing.

There was one thing I forgot about: the egos of intelligent weapons.

“It’s ignoring me.”

Dá»rdor silently considered the options. “Perhaps if you asked nicely.”

Rolling my eyes, I leaned in. “Please.”

“I’m rethinking the terms of our relationship, Warrior.”

“What terms? I rescued you from eternal rust in the lair of a Dragon. You owe me.”

“True. However, a weapon of my exceptional exquisiteness should not be wielded by anyone less than a true champion.”

I stood there boggled. “A true champion? I went into the lair of the most fearsome Dragon in all of Qrynn and…”

“Ran away.”

I pointed at it accusingly. “The ceiling was coming down. I was supposed to get crushed?”

“Lady Ar’ri,” Dá»rdor interrupted. “You’re arguing with an inanimate object.”

With an annoyed sigh, I turned around and headed toward the door. “I need a break, and I have to check on Flamestrike. I’ll be back later.”

~O~

My bed was gone and in its place was a big pile of gold, silver, and platinum pieces with a Wyrmling rolling around in the center getting everything juuuuuusssst right.

“Mama!”

Flamestrike jumped up, flinging gold pieces all over the room and ran at me. Luckily there wasn’t enough room for him to fully extend his wings or I would have been a stain on the carpet. He’d gotten quite heavy in only a month.

“Mama, I got lots of gold now.”

I smiled and hugged his head against my leg. “I know, sweetie. Do you like it?”

He pulled back and nodded. “They had to take your bed out ‘cause it took up too much room. You can sleep with me if you want.”

The thought of waking up with coins stuck to my forehead and cheeks, not to mention other unmentionable places, wasn’t particularly pleasant.

“We’ll work something out. Now, go on, I know you’ve been waiting ages for the perfect nest.”

He showed me all of his needle sharp teeth and then almost tripped turning around and diving back in.

Looking to the side, I saw Shae approach. “I kept the more important items out here.”

“I appreciate that.”

She led me over to the coffee table where a good amount of things were already spread out. It was our haul from Obsydiax’s hoard. That’s when I realized that I was suffering from treasure overload.

It’s a common ailment amongst adventurers with too generous of a DM. When a character starts off at their first level, they basically have squat. A few coppers, maybe some silver pieces and a gold piece or three. Finding your first magical item is a really big deal, especially if it’s actually useful. Gold is also quite helpful in purchasing better weapons, armor, ale at the local inn, and for bribing people.

However if you have a DM that gives you heaven and Earth after every adventure, the PC comes to expect it, and then eventually grows bored even with some great finds.

A plus one longsword is a really nice find, but if you already have a plus five Vorpal blade, it’s meh.

We found a lot of those amongst the hoard, along with several suits of armor, some of which still had the owner’s bones inside. There were various trinkets as well. None of which were of much use to us.

That which was useful, got put in Shae’s Bag and wound up on the coffee table that we were all currently staring at.

It was going to be an ongoing problem. Think about this. All of the evil dragons basically ripped off everyone, stealing everything of any worth. Picture all the really precious metals of the world divvied up and put in a hundred different places on Earth. Now add to that all the precious stones as well. Then picture big gigantic monsters destroying your ability to do anything, like manufacture things, or even to grow food.

The inhabitants of Qrynn had it rough.

“I’m thinking about telling the Elves that Obsydiax is dead and there’s still a lot of gold to be had if they go to get it.”

Fred looked like he was going to rebel, but he paused and leaned back. “Yeah, I see what you mean, dudette.”

Sam chewed the inside of her lip before speaking. “A lot of that armor was Elven.”

Shae smiled at me, like she was proud. “We’re rich enough. That’s a good idea, Ar’ri.”

I shrugged. “Well, you guys are rich enough. Flamestrike’s already claimed all of mine.”

Fred was fiddling with what looked like a pair of archaic motorcycle goggles. Giving him a shrug with my head I sat down. “Neat things?”

He grinned and held them up. “Darkvision Goggles. Now the ever-scrumptious Sam doesn’t have to lead me around the dark by the hand anymore.”

My eyes ticked to our resident Tiefling to see her lips twitch just a little bit. Something told me she didn’t mind that chore so much.

“Cool, what else we got?”

Shae was eying small book of some sort. “Spell book. There’s some interesting magic inside that can affect dragons, sort of.”

“Sort of?” I asked.

“Yeah, a few of the spells require the dragon to ingest a potion beforehand. It lowers their magic resistance to specific spells.”

I nodded in understand. “That’s going to be a tough one to pull off. I can’t see Lyzax willingly drink anything that came from us.”

Shae nodded. “Still, an opportunity might arise…”

Sam pushed at a red bauble. “Necklace of Acid Resistance.” The she pointed at a pair of silver cuffs. “And Bracers of Natural Armor plus three.”

And that was it.

You might be wondering why we just so happen to have so much stuff useful for fighting Dragons. Who do you think donated all the nice armor, weapons, and magical items to Obsydiax’s hoard? It was from the hunters that came before us, except they all died and left their stuff behind in the process.

We spent the rest of the morning figuring out how best to return the useless, to us, stuff to the Elves. Guess who got nominated to do that?

~O~

There was no way I was taking Chester the Chatty Claymore with me, however I had to find a nice belt to attach my Luck Blade. Dá»rdor insisted that I dressed in proper Elven noble attire. Since I was Barry’s champion, I could go without a formal dress, but everything else had to go or at least be hidden from view. Hence the Corset of Holding.

“This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to fight in this thing?” I said as I held it up.

Dá»rdor frowned. “It is an Elven weave, and I would appreciate you not insulting one of the few remaining items I still possess of my wife, Lady Ar’ri.”

I winced. “Sorry.”

He let the issue go. “As I was saying, this specific weave is made to be quite flexible, so if you are forced into battle, you will suffer no penalty to your dexterity.”

“I will, if my boobs fall out.”

Once he had it fitted properly, I felt the corset tightening itself. Well that’s a useful bit of magic.

“Please try not to acquire any damage to the fabric, Lady. This took me just over six months to make. The magic was very temperamental and did not like the adjustments I made.”

Looking down at my breasts, I noticed the entire top halves of them were exposed and it looked as if I’d grown two cup sizes somewhere along the way.

“What’s it do, anyway, I mean other than close itself up?”

Dá»rdor’s face flushed a little and he cleared his throat. “Your… ahem, cleavage acts as a Bag of Holding class one, much like the one you normally carry.” Before I could make a smart-ass comment he continued. “What makes this different from a regular bag is that the opening is regulated by whatever necessity you require.”

I blinked. “You want to say that in regular English?”

His face dropped in minor annoyance. “You can put big things down your cleavage and it won’t affect the way it looks.”

I tried, I really did, but a small giggle worked its way out of my mouth. “So I can stuff my backpack in here and I won’t have to worry about the sides tearing?”

He nodded, his face reddening even more. “And take it back out the same way, yes. You still have a limit of two-hundred and fifty pounds.”

Once he turned away to retrieve something else, he continued. “You’ll find your charisma has increased as well. Please try not to take advantage of that in unnecessary ways.”

I almost snickered at that. It looked like Dá»rdor was just as perverted as the rest of the males I’ve ever met. He’d purposely designed a corset for his wife that would make her breasts gigantic, improve her looks, and god knows what else.

He set out a pair of tan leather pants and some rather stylish flat-heeled boots, along with a few other necessities to the side.

“You’ll find that the rest of the clothing will alter itself to a proper size. Once you are prepared I will meet you in the cavern.”

He left rather expediently afterward. Shrugging out of my shorts, I slipped on the pants and nearly fell down afterward. The leather was so incredibly soft that it felt like it was caressing every inch of my skin. A stylish belt threaded through and buckled nicely. The boots were also indescribably comfortable, lacing themselves perfectly down the front of my leg. Yes, they were thigh boots. I felt very fetish-like at the moment.

“So this is how Elven noblewomen dressed. Kinky.”

I wiggled around a little, testing the limits of the clothing. He was right. Anything I could do in my regular leathers, I could do in what I was wearing. I simply looked really good doing it.

The walk back to my room was almost comical. Two guys nearly had to be hauled off to the clinic. One totally missed the hallway he was turning off into and smacked straight into the wall, while another had tripped and face-planted onto the floor. Once he had a handkerchief pressed to his bloody nose, he scampered off down the hall.

That really made me wonder how much my Charisma had increased. This brought to mind that laminated character sheet that I’d received the previous month before the Lyzax mission. I hadn’t bothered to even look at it since. Stuffing it away in my chest of drawers in the bedroom was the last I’d seen of it.

It wasn’t a priority. I mean, I already knew my stats and I hadn’t really done anything useful so they shouldn’t have changed much in the interim. Well, there was the mission itself, and I had just killed a Black Dragon. I decided it might be useful to take another gander and see what there was to see.

Bam! “Owww.”

Okay, make that three injured guys.

~O~

“Whoa,” Shae said when she got a load of the new duds.

“Like?”

Her pupils noticeably dilated as she nodded. There was almost no color left. “You should… um,” she swallowed and fidgeted a little, “… dress like that more often.”

I smiled brightly and saw what she was wearing. Being a Sorceress, she could get away with wearing a pretty dress. “You look really good yourself.”

Her blush radiated quickly. “Thanks.”

Pointing to my room, I said, “I’m just going to grab my stuff and we can go.”

Want to talk about weird looking? It was seriously weird looking when I took my backpack, barely tugged on my corset, right at the cleavage, and stuffed it inside. It just sucked it up. I turned from side to side in front of the mirror and couldn’t tell in the slightest. My smaller pack went in next and then I attached my Luck Blade scabbard to the belt that hung at an angle from the top of my hips. My backup dagger went on next and finally my thigh sheath for my main dagger. There was no way that my weapons were going down in the corset.

Yep, I look seriously hot and dangerous. Speaking of which…

Opening the top drawer of my chest, I moved aside my panties and retrieved my laminated character sheet. The first thing I checked out was my Charisma score. Looking up at the mirror, I checked myself out again then my eyes dropped to the sheet once more. Twenty-five.

“Holy shit.”

There’s a little place beside the score labeled Ability Modifier. Normally it reads plus five, hence my normal score of twenty. Now it read plus ten.

“That’s one hell of a corset.”

Perusing the rest of my stats, I noticed that my Armor Class had dropped a little, which meant that I could be injured easier. Since I was wearing civilian clothes that wasn’t a major revelation. There were two things of note, however.

One, I knew what kind of weapon the greatsword was as it had been added to my equipment list. And two, apparently I had a familiar which was all kinds of weird because I wasn’t a Magic User or a Ranger. Those are the most common Classes to have familiars. Single class Rogues simply didn’t do animals. The oddest part? It was Flamestrike.

~O~

“Mama, you look pretty!”

Flamestrike slid to a stop in front of me, gazing at me open-mouthed. Even Barry did a double take when Shae and I walked through the door. He blinked a couple of times and then it looked as if something slid over his face as he returned to normal.

“Thank you, sweetie. How are you doing on the course today?”

He bounced up. “I can glide now! Wanna see?”

I nodded and he took off a second later running through the obstacle course. Barry sidled up soon after.

“I don’t think the Elves will have much of a problem believing you are of noble blood.”

Looking at him out of the corner of my eye as I watched Flamestrike going through his paces, I said. “The corset is adds a plus five to my Charisma.”

His eyes widened significantly. “How do you know that? It’s supposed to be variable.”

I held a finger up. “Hold on a second.”

Flamestrike leaped off of the five foot stand and flapped his wings three times before gliding around the cavern. Every once in a while he’d flap a couple of more times keeping himself aloft. He didn’t just glide. He was flying!

“Astounding!” commented Barry. “He shouldn’t be able to do that until his third month.”

I grinned wide when he came in for a landing right in front of me. I guessed that he was so excited he’d forgotten what he was doing and tumbled to a stop on his back. Scrambling up on all fours, he bounded at me.

“Mama, I can fly! I can fly!”

Squatting down, I wrapped him in a hug and squeezed tightly. “You’re doing so well, Flamestrike! I’m so proud of you.”

He backed up and flapped his wings, but winced afterward. “Oww, it hurts.”

Barry didn’t look worried. “It happens, little one. You have to build up your muscles. It takes a lot of work, but pretty soon you won’t feel a thing. Now, go get yourself something to eat. You did very well today.”

Once Flamestrike disappeared into another portion of the cavern, Barry turned to me. “About this ability you have to know your current Charisma score…?”

He left that one hanging for me to finish. “It was on the character sheet you had made up.”

Barry looked at me, interested and totally clueless. “What character sheet?”

I frowned. “The laminated one. You know, the ones you left for Shae and me? They were in our rooms before we went to Qrynn the first time.”

His curiosity turned to concern. “Ar’ri, I have not had anything made up for you. Where is this laminated character sheet?”

“Upstairs in my…” I pointed at him, almost accusingly. “You stay out of my panty drawer. I’ll get it for you when we return.”

Barry’s lips pressed together. It was easy to suss out his annoyed face. “Were there any other changes that you noticed?”

I shrugged. “Nothing that I wasn’t expecting, for the most part. I’m about fifteen hundred points away from my next level-up. My Armor Class is reduced because I’m not wearing my good stuff. Um… oh.” Looking around, I made sure Shae was busy talking to Dá»rdor before leaning in and whispering.

“It listed Flamestrike as my familiar.”

Barry blinked hard in astonishment. “What? You can’t… that’s not possible.”

I nodded. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Only Wizards and Sorcerers can have familiars. Even Rangers and Bards can only have Companion Animals.”

There’s a difference, not much; it’s subtle. I shrugged.

He pressed the issue. “Rogues can’t have familiars and definitely not one that is a highly intelligent creature. That’s against the rules.”

“Apparently someone on high pointed their omnipotent finger down on us and said, ‘they don’t need any rules.’”

Barry crossed his arms in a mild huff. “That’s got to be wrong. Here, let’s test it out. Concentrate on Flamestrike, specifically seeing through his eyes.”

It’s one of the abilities that Magic Users have, to see through their familiar’s eyes, smell what they smell, and taste what they taste.

“Okay.” I closed my eyes and concentrated on my dragon. A moment later, I was looking down at a bowl and the bottom half of a squirrel within. The taste of the upper half of that same creature was rolling around in my mouth.

Snapping my eyes open, I gasped and then choked like I was going to lose my breakfast. Barry was by my side as I retched dryly. “What happened?”

“He’s eating a squirrel. I could taste it. Blech!”

Grabbing my shoulders, he pulled me up with a look of glee on his face. “Ar’ri, this is unprecedented! I must speak with Dá»rdor immediately.”

I spit mildly. It felt like I had fur in my mouth. Gah! Before he had a chance to run off, I grasped by the arm. “Keep it between you two. I don’t want anyone else to know, especially Flamestrike.”

Thinking of the implications he nodded. “Understandable. Now, off you go. When you get back, bring that character sheet to my office and we’ll compare it to your original.”

~O~

I had to rinse my mouth out a couple of times after we got to Qrynn, a few miles north of the Elven forest.

“Is everything okay? You looked like you were getting sick back there.”

“Bad taste in my mouth,” I said.

She gave me an understanding nod. Before we set off, I looked up at the clear azure-colored sky. There was one very large hawk that was circling about a hundred feet in the air, probably hunting for any rodents. It evened out and rode the thermals above the forest in the distance.

It was a shame that Qrynn was overrun with evil. The landscape was beautiful and the air very clean. Hopefully I was there to change that.

~O~

“Do you get the feeling we’re being watched?” Shae asked.

“Ever since we entered the forest. They’re up in the trees.”

She looked at me incredulously. “How…?”

I tapped my Circlet. “Pretty much on all the time now, especially when we’re here. I don’t like to be snuck up on.”

Shae rolled her eyes playfully. “You always get all the cool stuff.”

“You can have the greatsword if you want.”

“No way. That’s your punishment for being that gorgeous.”

She ducked her head. I don’t suppose she meant for that to come out, so to ease her discomfort, I changed the subject.

“You’d think these guys would come down and take us to their leader.”

Shae shrugged. “They’re probably gun-shy. Being under siege for so long makes one a bit edgy about strangers.”

There was a reason we hadn’t approached them as of yet. At the onset of the war that drove Mary Bybax to Earth, the Elven nation had become nomadic. According to Dá»rdor, it was in self-defense. If the enemy had found their true homes, they would be burned and looted. Some broke off and went underground or in vast caves underneath the mountain, while others traveled weekly, sometimes nightly to avoid the Dragons. The only thing that protected them from eventually being burned out was that the trees mysteriously would never burn.

Even Dragonfire, the hottest natural flame known, wasn’t enough to penetrate the canopy. That didn’t stop the Dragons from landing amidst the trees and creating their own destructive brand of havoc. However, it was enough to allow large numbers of Elves from being killed indiscriminately.

I came to a halt in a small clearing. “Well, enough of this random walking around routine.”

Thumping my quarterstaff on the ground, I yelled out. “You might as well come out. I know you’re up there.” As proof, I pointed to several places where I couldn’t see any evidence of life, but I could feel a presence. “There, there, there, and there. You move around so loud that an Orc could hear you.”

Elves aren’t big fans of Orcs. Ever since Corellon Larethian, the High God and leader of the Elven Pantheon, took the eye of their Orc god in battle, they’ve had a grudge. After thousands of years, it’s still a major point of contention between the two races.

Something sounded in the distance and I had the faintest of seconds before I reached out in front of my face and snatched an arrow out of the air.

“All right, that’s it. Shield yourself Shae. This’ll only take a minute.”

One of the great things about being under a canopy of leaves with the sunlight only poking through in a few places? Tons of shadows.

I slid out of a shadow where the idiot was that shot at me and clubbed him on the back of the head. Grabbing his limp form, I dropped him off beside Shae, and then proceeded to do the same to the other three. Between the Circlet and my Shadowdancing, they really didn’t have a chance.

While they were all unconscious I pulled my small bag from between my breasts, to Shae’s amazement.

“What the…? Where were you hiding that?”

I winked at her. “A girl’s got to have her secrets.”

From the bag, I withdrew a black Sharpe and etched the Sylvan ideogram for Idiot and Amateur on the shooter’s forehead. Then I replaced everything. Shae took special notice of me stuffing the bag back in its place.

We disarmed them, adding their weapons and personal belongings to the goods we were bringing to the Elves. They could get them later. After that, Shae conjured a jet of water into their faces while I leaned against a nearby tree.

“Wakey-wakey.”

Two of them scrambled to their feet and the other two stayed low, but all of them were wary and befuddled at the same time. They all reached for their secondary weapons only to find nothing.

“Yeah, okay. Are we done playing around now?”

Idiot-Amateur rushed me, doing some kind of Elven version of Kung-Fu, but I slid into a shadow and back out again to lay the end of my quarterstaff against the back of his head.

After he dropped to the ground, into unconsciousness, I pointed to the other two aggressive Elves. “You two, carry this paragon of utter fail.” Pointing to the fourth Elf that had stayed low and appeared the least aggressive, I crooked a finger. “You, come here.”

None of them moved, so I leaned in and poured on the intimidation, which considering my Charisma score at the moment, should be utterly devastating. “Did you hear what I said?”

The two standing nearly tripped over themselves to grab ahold of Idiot-Amateur and the last one looked like he was going to crap himself as he inched toward me. That’s when I eased up on the intimidating look and relaxed.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The fourth Elf had long blonde hair and a thin face. Being of average Elf height, I towered over him.

“What’s your name?”

“Maeli Mor, Scout, Missus.”

Clasping him on the shoulder, I smiled wide and bright. “Maeli, I’m Ar’ri…”

“Lady Ar’ri,” Shae said.

I frowned at her. “Sorry, I forgot I’m supposed to do that now. Anyway, I’m Lady Ar’ri Bauquinea. Take me to your leader. I have some gifts to bestow that they just might want.”

He cringed and stepped back. “We can’t do that, Lady Ar’ri. It’s a secret and unless you know, then you can’t know.”

I sighed. “Do I need to whack you with my quarterstaff?”

He shook his head.

“That was a rhetorical question.”

Okay, we do this the hard way.

Backing him up against the tree, I gripped his jaw and looked deep in his eyes. “Where are the Elves of this forest hiding?”

“One mile south-southwest, please don’t make me say it,” the Elf thought.

Looking up at Shae, I nodded and pointed in the direction we had to go. “That way. I’ll take the lead.” Then to Maeli. “As long as you don’t give me any cra… grief, I let you tag along. If any of you decide to become a nuisance then I’ll just knock you out and leave you for whatever wildlife happens by, m‘kay fine.”

~O~

By the time we reached the village, I’d lost count of how many arrows were pointed at us. It was a bit unnerving, but I still felt fairly confident that we’d be okay since it was two against about a thousand or more. Temporary housing was giving the tents they lived in way too much credit.

We came to a halt at the outer perimeter of the village and I waved the three scouts and their baggage through. “Tell your boss I want to talk to him. We’ll wait here.”

There were some Elves that had blades in their hands, but most had only bows and arrows. That didn’t make them any less deadly, but against Dragons they were less than useless.

Shae looked like she wanted to say something, but held her tongue under the circumstances.

It didn’t take too long for the head honcho to show up. I should have said head honchos since five really old, I mean really old Elves made their way through the crowd.

They looked at both of us and then then their eyes didn’t leave Shae for a few moments.

I offered to break the ice first. “This is Lady Shaeria Faladhen daughter of Dá»rdor and I am Lady Ar’ri Bauquinea. We come in peace bearing gifts and news.”

The Elders looked at each other, and the one that looked to be the Eldest said, “What news?”

Straight to the point. “The Dragon, Obsydiax, that claimed the swamp to the west and supposed laid claims to these lands, is dead.”

There were several gasps deep in the background. The gaze of the Elders intensified.

“How?” asked the Eldest.

“By my hand and those of my friends.”

Shae pointed at me. “Mostly by her hand.”

The Eldest stepped forward and I heard several bowstrings pulled taut. “Word of the Black Dragon’s death has been bandied about for years.”

I nodded in understanding. “From the look of the armor we found amongst his hoard, I assume it was from this village that several warriors were sent forth? We come bearing what we found. If you have someplace we can lay out their belongings other than the ground?”

The Eldest scowled. It was my guess that he didn’t believe me from the looks of things. Since we didn’t have any packs or even a pack animal, from his point of view we didn’t have much to offer.

“Lady,” he said with some doubt. “We don’t stand on pleasantries here, nor do we have gilded tables with which to set things, or even chairs to rest your delicate behind. Set your findings on the ground before you and then leave.”

I considered him briefly. Instead of getting uppity toward him, I felt extremely empathetic. Here was a man and a people that had been beaten into submission; barely holding on to what dignity they could carry around on their own backs.

With a nod to Shae, she reached into her cloak and pulled out her Bag of Holding. After whispering something at the opening, she set it close to the ground.

The Eldest looked at her curiously and then his eyes widened. Holding out his hands, he motioned for everyone to back away. Then the armor and treasure started coming out in droves.

Normally with a Bag of Holding, you have to think of or say what you want and then stick your hand inside. It usually appeared in your hand and you simply pulled it out. However, Shae knew the command word for hers so it was like dumping everything out at once.

Gold, Platinum, Silver, Copper, jewels, gems, armor, weapons, quivers of arrows, books, papers, personal items, everything spilled out onto the ground.

Shae looked at me, and shook her head in disbelief. Something was off. Remember what I’d said about there being a limit to what every Bag can hold? Hers was a Type II. That meant it held about five hundred pounds before bursting. What was coming out had far exceeded that weight. Armor is heavy, gold is heavy. The more Shae backed away, the more that came out. Piles upon piles until it looked like the entire hoard had somehow emptied itself on the forest floor… and it was still coming out.

MREs, fresh fruit, vegetables, dried meats, water skins, bottles… wine bottles for god’s sake, all of this and more kept falling from the Bag until eventually it stopped.

There was a trail at least fifty feet long and two feet high of everything imaginable in Shae’s wake. She looked dumbfounded, but then she smiled.

The area was deathly quiet. All the weapons were lowered as everyone stared at the bounty that had been laid at their feet. And then it all stopped.

Everything.

No birds, no insects, no shuffling of feet or murmurs of voices that you’d normally heard in crowds that large. It all stopped.

My brows bunched together and I looked around. Everyone was frozen in place.

“Shae?”

She was still smiling with what happened, but she didn’t react to my voice at all.

“Your companion is perfectly fine Ar’ri Bauquinea.”

I spun in place to see a man, an Elf actually. Middle aged, but strong, well fed and dressed, but not overtly so. He had a longsword hanging from his belt, but no other weapon. His hair was yellow like the sun and highlighted all over the place.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He smiled warmly. “Call me Cory.”

Looking back at everyone, I saw that they were still frozen in place and I swallowed.

“Did you…?”

He nodded. “We needed to speak, and though I love my people, I have no wish to let them know of my presence.”

My quarterstaff shifted into my left hand as I shuffled nervously to the side.

“You have nothing to fear from me, Ar’ri. In fact, you’ve nothing but my thanks and warm regard for what you have done since your transition to one of my people.”

Oh god…

He smiled again and winked at me. My knees felt really weak at that moment. “Cory?”

I received a nod in return. “I’d rather not use my full name if you don’t mind. It tends to attract far too much attention that I want to keep away from this forest.”

My mouth stayed firmly shut after that. I wasn’t about to say a word and accidently tick this person off. Who says I don’t know when to shut up?

“I’ll ask you to take the credit for this bounty, if you would. It’s necessary in order for certain things to happen, you see.”

I shook my head. Well, I really didn’t see.

Bending over the pile, Cory brushed off a few gold pieces and picked up what looked like a small book. “This is the journal of Jhyr Mas.” He walked over and opened the hand of the Eldest, placed the book there and closed his fingers back up so the old man wouldn’t drop it.

“He was the great grandson of this Elf. They never knew of his adventures and eventual death at the claws of Obsydiax. Thanks to you, he will.” Cory’s face turned dark. “This world has been held far too long under the tyrannical rule of the Dragons, Ar’ri. You’re going to change that.”

“I…” My mouth wouldn’t really work right.

“You can and you will. You are one of mine now, and being one of mine, I think I have a say in the matter. Come to me.”

My staff dropped to the ground and my legs betrayed me. I could feel a mild amount of fight within my head, but whatever he was doing overwhelmed even me.

His fingers trailed down my face as he looked at me with that same warm smile he originally showed. “You shall be my vengeance on the Dragons. Let them hide in fear from you. Let them feel your wrath. Your kind and brave heart is what brought you to me, Ar’ri Bauquinea. You chose to return what all that was not yours and kept only that which would further your quest. For that you have my thanks and that of my people.”

His lips lowered to mine and he kissed me. Somewhere deep inside my brain, I felt a minor revulsion at kissing a guy, but the rest of my body felt like it was being lit on fire. One of his hands slipped around and pressed against my lower back, onto his body. The other threaded through my hair, deepening the kiss. All the while, I was burning within and without.

“Remember the things I have told you, child, and remember this: all that you are is not quite all that you can be, for you are now one of us.”

~O~

The world snapped back into place. I was back where I’d started, staring at Shae and seeing her bright smile.

“By the gods!” the Eldest said in astonishment. He looked up at me, startled that he was holding his great-grandchild’s journal.

I looked back at him. “I’m sorry for your loss.” My eyes traveled the area. It was peaceful and I felt a sense of protectiveness draped over the forest. “Elder, make your homes again. There will be no more Dragons that will bother you. You have my word.”

Shae looked at me, startled, again wanting to say something, but holding back. “Shaeria, come. We have work to do.”

Turning away, I hadn’t gone two steps before the Eldest called out. “Wait!”

Half-turning I smiled back at him. “I’ll be back sometime, Elder. I will bring some friends with me as well.”

He moved with new energy in his step, looking like a heavy weight was lifted off of his shoulders. “How can we thank you?”

I shrugged. “Pray for me. That’s all I ask.”

The Elder gave me a firm nod. “It shall be done. You have friends here, Lady.”

Leaning in, I gave him a hug and kissed his wrinkled brow. “Bless you, Elder.”

Shae caught up, looking at me very strangely. I slipped my arm around her and then slid into a shadow, exiting at the edge of the forest.

“Um, Ar’ri?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Since when did you start glowing?”

Bringing my hand up, I looked at it. Surrounding each finger and my arm, in fact my entire body, was a golden glow that reminded me of Cory’s hair. I touched my lips then smiled.

“Call the portal, Shae.”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “We can’t do it here. Lyzax will know.”

I shook my head. “No, she won’t. Go ahead. The forest is guarded anyway. No evil shall breach its borders again.”

Shae appeared very nervous. “How do you know that?”

Serenity ran through me. “I just do.” I gave her an easy grin. “You worry too much, Shae. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

I got the cocked eyebrow for that one, but she called the portal while I stood there and looked up into the azure sky to see a single bright star in the distance. Well, it had to be bright to make it through the sky during daylight hours.

~O~

The glow faded when the portal opened and I’d stepped through. Dá»rdor looked at me expectantly.

“They’re rebuilding. Oh, and they recognized Shae.” I patted her on the back. “She’ll fill you in on the rest.”

There was a token protest from both of them, but I moved on through to the hallway and made my way up to my room. The suite was empty; even Flamestrike was missing. I closed my eyes and thought of him.

Apparently there was another cavern somewhere else. Barry was in his dragon from and he was chasing a laughing Flamestrike around the place.

With a smile I shut down the link and added a decently matching coat to my outfit to cover up the corset a little, made a side trip to my dresser to snatch the character sheet. Then I grabbed my keys and purse. Twenty minutes later I pulled into Charlie’s, a comic book and gaming store where I had spent most of my childhood. Right as I reached for the door handle to exit the Cooper, there was a ringing from my purse.

After checking the caller ID I opened my phone and said, “Hi Barry.”

“Ar’ri, where are you?”

“I’m at Charlie’s.”

There was a brief pause. “And what are you doing at your old gaming haunt.”

With a slight smile, I answered. “I’ll tell you about it when I get back. I won’t be too long, and quit worrying so much.”

One of the things to know about the comic and gaming industry retailers: they don’t make a whole heck of a lot of money. Most stores are run down and their shelves are second-hand, if not made by hand. The counters are littered with ancient action figures and free displays. There’s always a life-size cardboard cutout of Princess Leia and Darth Vader around somewhere, usually faded by the bad fluorescent lighting from above.

There is usually a mid-twenties geek behind the counter in raggedy jeans and a con-t-shirt giving you the wary eye because he thinks you’re going to steal something. The main portion of the stores are fold-out tables with white boxes containing thousands of comics, not usually worth much because the ones that are really expensive are tacked up on the walls and behind glass cases that badly need Windexing.

But the smell… the smell is what denotes a true store. If there is even a hint of air freshener or incense in the air, then run away. They’re trying to cover up the mold. If all you smell is old paper that is reminiscent of libraries then you’re in the right place.

It was the middle of the afternoon. School was already out and regular customers were firmly in their places.

Ben Smith was by the Witchblade posters, aimlessly flipping through them to figure out what he could afford. Stan and Stu Redman were by the X-men comics still in their heated argument about who was tougher, Wolverine or X-23. A few aimless customers were walking around looking somewhat interested in the contents of the store. Chris Fleming was behind the counter perusing the latest issue of Dragon Magazine. All was as is should have been.

When Chris laid eyes on me, he slipped off of his stool but caught himself at the last second. The racket he made, knocking over a box of pewter figurines was enough to get everyone to look up. Suddenly I was the center of attention.

Well what would you look at if a hot looking girl, wearing a corset, tight leather pants, and thigh boots came into your hang-out. I gave the onlookers a brief smile and approached the counter.

Chris tried his best to look casual, like he’d meant to fall off the stool and disturb his display.

“Can… can…” he stammered.

“Can you help me?” He nodded quickly and I gave him a smile. Tapping the display case, I didn’t bother to look down. “I need some new dice. The clear ones, full set.”

Without taking his eyes off of me he reached down and pulled the correct item out. While he did that, I dipped my hand in my purse to retrieve a twenty. No, dice don’t cost that much. It was simply the smallest bill I had. He waved me off.

“It’s on the house.”

Giving him my best smile, I said. “Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

Tearing off the cardboard backing from the plastic that kept my new dice trapped, I poured them into my palm, and rolled them around. It’s weird, I know, but there’s something about having a handful of dice. It wasn’t anything freaky. Just that act of holding them brought back memories of so many hours spent with my friends exploring new worlds and stealing their loot.

It was satisfying in a way, and I always wanted to remember that. One by one, I took each die and popped it down my cleavage, leaving only the twenty-sided die left.

That was the one that was most important. The others had their purpose, the d12, d8, d6, d4, and the percentage dice all had their purposes, but you really played with the d20. Attack, defend, and saving throws all depended on that specific die.

If you can’t tell, I missed playing.

“Anyone up for a game?”

~O~

It was a short module. I DM’d to the stunned looks from the ones that volunteered. Like I mentioned before at the start of this tale, hot girls just don’t play D&D all that often, much less DM a game.

We ran through, playing lower lever characters, and it made me remember what I loved about any RPG much less D&D specifically. It was the thrill of taking someone that had nothing and working with them to achieve their dream: riches, magic, fame, and fortune were there to be had. It was within your grasp if you wanted it bad enough, if you were daring enough. It literally could change your life. I was proof positive.

On my way out, Chris stopped me. “We have a regular game every Sunday morning… if you’re interested in…

Reaching up I cupped his face. “You’re sweet, Chris. If I’m in the neighborhood, I’ll stop back by again.”

As I exited, right before the door had fully closed, I heard Chris call out to the store, “Did ya hear that, ya poozers! She knows my name!”

Playing a simple game like that put things into perspective. This was how it all started for me. I wasn’t exactly sure about Barry’s sight. He may have been watching me all these years. Maybe he’d even influenced a decision or two along the way, but in the end, his machinations were meaningless, because he’d forgotten to take one NPC into account.

Oh, sorry. NPC means Non-Player Character. They’re the ones that the gamers don’t play. The bartender, the King that sends you on the quest, the bad guys, those are all NPCs.

Remember the one thing that can change anything in the game? The one thing that could counter the effects of the Belt of Femininity, the one thing that could break those collars that changed my friends so they could have a normal life through the use of a Ring of Polymorph Self?

One was a Wish spell. Those are temperamental, basically relying totally upon the mood of the DM that happens to be running your campaign. They are the cliché genie in the bottle. You wish for something and they can arbitrarily grant you that wish or twist it into something that defeats the purpose in the first place.

I could wish to be the richest person on the planet and then find myself surrounded by all the gold in the world, in a cave, with no exit, waiting for the air to run out.

The other way was to encounter a deity. Sometimes that is even worse. You could do something to offend them and WHACK! big rock falls from the sky and kills you… or worse. There are lots of or worses in the world of D&D. Poof, you’re a zombie. Poof, you’re a Slug Monster. You get the point.

But every once in a while… every once in a while, you meet one that’s not psychotic or so vain to think that the world was their playtoy.

Sitting in the parking lot of Dragon Games, I felt the spring sun bearing down on me. Spring was his time. The time of growth and rebirth.

I got out of the Cooper and stood there staring at the entrance. Reaching inside my purse, I pulled out the laminated character sheet and perused it once more before withdrawing a lighter and setting the corner on fire. I let it burn until it was full engulfed and then dropped it to the asphalt until it burned itself out.

TBC…