Hmmm... I've been wandering the lands for a few years now, I've seen some odd things, let me tell you.

Oh! Who am I, you ask? Well, my momma named me Jarg, my family name is Stonefist for obvious reasons, I'd think. If the stories are true, my maternal grandpa got caught in a love spell trap by a lonely female ogre who had obtained the help of a witch in the area.

I guess it's a good thing that my family has always run to big men, but that lady ogre sure gave grandpa a rough ride for a while.

Well, the result after several nights and days of romping in the fields and wherever else they felt like it was that she became pregnant.

The pregnancy lasted about a year, then my daddy was born. You might have heard of him, people call him Flerg the Crazy.

Grandma Grusha taught daddy how to fight and he went out adventuring for several years before he decided to return home.

Anyhow, eventually daddy found a big, strapping human woman to love and I was the result, born early the following summer.

Grusha, my ogress grandma, and daddy taught me how to fight with my fists and feet from the time I was five. That expanded into weapons training, initially with sticks and small daggers, then working up to long knives and swords, then bigger swords and heavy clubs.

By the time I was fifteen, I could hold my own against my dad. Winning against Grusha wasn't as easy, she is one tough old ogre lady.

My parents made sure that I got at least basic schooling, I didn't like math a lot, but I knew it would be useful once I went out on my own. I enjoyed reading, although it sometimes took me a while to understand things, and I can write, well, if you call my scrawls writing.

A month before my eighteenth birthday, I told daddy that I felt it was time for me to go out and see the world around me.

At that point, I'd reached my full height of just under eight feet, a few inches shorter than my father and nearly a foot shorter than Grusha.

I have no idea why I turned to the west as I began my journey, perhaps fate was leading me in that direction.

I'd been stomping along a variety of trails for nearly three days when a giant crocodile blocked my choice of ford over a small river.

I'm big enough that I can wield a triple-point double edged sword like a normal human might wield a longsword. Not far from where I keep that on my belt is a very large double bladed great axe. Folks in the village said I should have a bow, but I like to fight up close and personal.

I had some basic provisions in a rough pack strapped to my back, mostly food, with a big iron pot that had seen a fair bit of use in our kitchen over the last few years but was still in one piece, and a large iron mug with a bit of a warp in one side that dad made years ago.

Anyway, this croc was making me just a wee bit angry. Let's just say that making a 1/4 ogre angry is NOT a wise decision.

I pulled both weapons from their loops on my belt, shattered the air around us with a booming laugh and launched myself at the crocodile.

The battle lasted for a few minutes, with the crocodile getting in a couple of bites that damn well hurt, but my sword and axe did a fine job of turning that crocodile into ogre appropriate meat chunks. I wanted to skin the thing right away, but the wounds were more important.

I took some time to tend my wounds with some cloths and clean water, then used part of a roll of rough cotton cloth to wrap the wounds, making sure it would stay in place by tying each one securely with some basic twine. I sighed briefly as I finished wrapping the second one.

Then I got down to the business of skinning the crocodile, placing the meat in the water near the edge as I used the largest single piece of crocodile hide to fashion a rough but usable sack for the meat that I decided I would take along with me as I traveled.

I pulled the pot and mug from my back, gathered the materials to make a fire and lit it with a flint and steel.

A bit more time resulted in a simple spit standing over the fire, I soon had two large chunks of meat cooking on it as I relaxed.

A mug of fresh river water was welcomed, I had been sure to leave the meat downstream a few feet while making that bag.

As the meat cooked, I checked the meat I had left in the water, then packed some of it into the new bag, which I tied to my belt on my left hip.

There was still a lot of meat left over, we're talking about a giant crocodile here, over forty feet of nasty critter with very sharp teeth.

I sat there by the fire, thinking about the leftover meat. If I sewed some of the pieces of skin together, I could make a sort of travois by stabbing holes through the skin and using those and some twine to tie two long branches to the combined skins.

The meat was cooked nice and tender well before I had finished making the rough travois, I'd get that done after I finished eating.

I had a few basic loaves left from what had been provided, so I broke those open and made myself crocodile meat sandwiches.

After I had stuffed myself with the sandwiches, I went back to work on the travois as the afternoon changed to evening, then night.

It had been dark for about an hour when it was finally ready, I grabbed chunks of meat and loaded them on it, going back and forth several times before the rest of the meat from the damn critter was laid as evenly as possible on the contraption. Now for the last part.

I rolled the second part of the hide back over the meat, then used several bits of twine to tie it all down nice and tight.

There was a rather big oak a few minutes walk up the river, on the edge of a large meadow.

I added another bit of rope, threw the other end over a branch, then slowly and with much grunting, pulled the whole thing up until it was almost touching the branch. At that point, I used the leftover rope by wrapping it around the branch, then tying it in a simple knot.

I wandered back to where I had killed the crocodile, then picked up the pot and mug, placed them in my pack and returned to the tree.

I untied my bedroll from the bottom of the pack and laid it out on the ground under the tree, but slightly away from the hanging meat.

I heard what sounded like a wolf howling in the distance as I drifted off to sleep.

The next two weeks were like that, although I didn't run into anything as nasty as the crocodile I killed by the river.

On the fourth day, there was a stallion from a herd who got the wrong idea; my loudest bellow straightened him out, he was off like a shot.

Also on the fourth day, I found a village that was happy to take the crocodile meat and turn it into smoked meat. I ended up with a bit over nine silver for the meat, which I used to buy some simple supplies and get a dozen large loaves of freshly baked bread from a farm wife.

Then on the ninth day, there was a rather lean mountain lion that was tempted by my meat one evening. I killed it, but the creature was so stringy that I simply left it there on the ground for other wild creatures to eat it. It wouldn't last a week before it would be only skin and bones.

The eleventh day after I left home, I ran into a small group of four orcs, or I should say that they ran into me.

I was relaxing after a meal when they came over a ridge a few hundred yards away and charged at me, they had smelled my food.

I made rather short work of those four, to be honest. I didn't like their smell, so I picked them up one by one and hauled them off far enough that I wouldn't be bothered by them any more. That took an hour or two, after which I was hungry again. What do you expect, I eat a lot!

It was on the seventeenth day after I had left home that I came upon a larger town, with a sign proclaiming it to be Fiddler's Vale.

I can guess as to what the men folk there were thinking as I walked along the dusty road into town. I decided to have a little fun with them.

When the biggest one, I assume he was the town's smith or one of them, approached me, I grinned, showing teeth and said, "Me Jarg. You?"

My using the most guttural tone that I could and the rather simple speech caused several men to turn pale and back away from me.

At that point, I laughed, a big laugh that likely scared them more, then held out my hand, saying, "Hi, I'm Jarg. How are you folks today?"

You should have been there to see the shock on their faces when I spoke like any semi well-bred person might do. It was great!

I spent the next several days just relaxing in the common room of the inn, enjoying a drink now and then.

It took that long for the people there to get used to me sitting on a heavy stool I had built out behind the inn the day after I arrived. Once the stool was built to my satisfaction, I placed it just far enough from the cooking hearth that I would stay warm, but not be too hot.

On several occasions, when I saw the innkeeper trying to lift a very large pot on her own, I walked over and helped her. Each time I did this, the people in the common room would stare at me, the innkeeper would give me a slow, sweet smile and I would sit down again.

One day, while I was relaxing, the innkeeper approached me, asking if I could do her a favour. When I enquired as to what needed to be done, the innkeeper pointed to a large pack on the floor and said that it needed to be delivered to farmer Valgas outside of the town.

Once I had been given the proper directions, I set out, having placed the pack on my back.

It took me a few hours to find the path that led to Valgas' farm, but I eventually did. I delivered the items, then returned to the inn.

The innkeeper smiled at me, let me settle on my stool and brought me a large bowl of her fresh steaming hot stew. The stew turned out to be the meat of a giant snake that had been roaming around the edges of the town and had been killed that morning by the town's 'guards'.

The five men and one tall, lean women in the 'guard' were all fighters with a bit of experience who preferred to stay in one place.

They had caught the snake as it attacked a farmer bringing some of his crops into the town, had surrounded it and then killed it.

The woman and one of the men had taken bite injuries from the snake, which proved to be non-poisonous thankfully.

The town's healer had been all too happy to treat the two, as what they had done had ensured the safety of the townsfolk once again.

Perhaps the fight with the snake might have resulted in less harm if I had been there to help, but that was not the case.

I overheard the guard woman and two men talking about the fight with the huge snake. I thought that it must have been quite a fight.

I ended up doing more runs to folks that lived some distance from the town every few days, earning a silver coin or two each time.

Then came the night that I overheard a fisherman complaining about a giant octopus that was preventing them from leaving the harbour. I quietly stood up, walked over to the table where the fisherman was sitting, squatted down, then asked him about the creature.

Folks had grown used to my towering form somewhat by then. The fisherman nodded and quickly told me everything he knew.

When he had finished, I informed him that I would take care of the creature the very next day.

The fisherman then informed me that the octopus liked to sun itself on a large rock at the outer edge of the harbour.

I nodded, thanked him and returned to my seat, where I found a fresh cup of strong ale had been placed on the table beside the stool.

I relaxed for an hour or two, then headed up to the room that I had paid in advance for the next week and laid down to rest.

I was awake as dawn broke the next morning. I've never liked dirt much, so I gave myself a quick wash and put on my oldest clothes.

Once my weapons and a few other items were attached to my belt, I walked down to the common room of the inn.

The innkeeper had already been awake for a while, she smiled and passed me a large bowl of porridge and a plate with a full breakfast on it.

I enjoyed the meal, this innkeeper liked to make sure people were satisfied with her meals, meals that were always hot and tasty.

When I had finished eating, I walked out of the inn and down to the harbour area.

The fisherman I had spoken to the previous night was there, with nearly a dozen others standing nearby.

The one I had spoken with pointed to the big rock, where the octopus could be seen lazing in the early morning sunlight.

I nodded and asked if I could borrow a large rowboat. One of the fishermen pointed to a nearby dock, saying, "Take that one."

I nodded again, thanked him, then strode over to the boat and stepped into it, causing it to rock violently for a moment.

I swayed in the boat as it rocked, I'd learned long ago how to maintain my balance in unusual situations.

When the boat finally settled, I reached over, untied the mooring rope, dropped it in the boat, sat down, picked up an oar and started paddling.

My family had lived near a large lake and I had been taught how to use boats like this, so it was not difficult for me at all.

I could see the octopus sunning itself on the rock. At one point, I thought I noticed the octopus looking at me as I approached.

It didn't take me very long to reach the rock. I dragged the boat up so it wouldn't float away, then stumbled as the octopus attacked me.

The darn thing had struck me from behind, this caused me to trip over the end of the boat and I landed face first in some sand.

I turned my head to the side, spit the sand out and lunged to my feet, drawing both weapons as the octopus charged forward again.

I was ready this time. I met the charge head on, hacking at one tentacle with the sword and at the head with the greataxe.

The sword connected quite nicely, taking a chunk about a foot long from the tentacle. The creature somehow managed to dodge the axe.

It slapped at me with a few of the tentacles, the hits didn't hurt, but one of the darn things actually stuck to my left shoulder.

Now it was time for something I had tried several times while I was training, I sincerely hoped that it would work this time.

I lowered the axe and used the sword to slash at the tentacle clinging to my shoulder, severing it a good two feet from my body.

The creature had been silent when it attacked and when I first hit it, but it now issued forth a loud, piercing squeal that was rather painful.

I staggered for just a brief moment, but that was enough for the octopus which hit me with another tentacle, this one going around my left arm.

I grunted as the creature tried to pull me toward the water. I laughed and stood my ground, then used the axe to hack at the tentacle.

It didn't take very long for the axe to cut through it, but I came very, very close to slicing my own arm open in the process.

The creature squealed again, this time I was expecting it and lashed out with both weapons in a carefully practiced synchronized movement. The sword flashed at the lower edge of the head from the left side, the axe from the right, and just like that, the battle was over.

What seemed odd to me was that the octopus had not sprayed me with ink at any point during the fight. Maybe it didn't have that ability?

Someone had left an old tarp in the bottom of the rowboat. That gave me the idea to cut the creature up into pieces and take the chunks back to the inn. Perhaps the innkeeper could cook up some octopus tentacle steaks or use them in one of her excellent stews.

It took several minutes before I managed to pull the tentacles that had been on my body off of me. I dropped them into the boat as well.

As I rowed back to the docks, I could hear the fishermen cheering. Huh, that was something I had never experienced before.

I soon returned to the docks, tied the boat to a post, then several of the fishermen helped me to carry the chopped octopus to the inn.

The battle had taken a fair amount of my strength and energy. I was content to sit on my stool, sip some ale and wait for some food.

Jarg had been in the town for about two weeks or so. The inn was okay, but the rooms were rather cramped for someone of his size.

He continued to do the occasional deliveries to folks around the town or outside of it, earning coins that kept him fed and housed.

One day, while he was relaxing in his usual spot not far from the main hearth, a rather large man wandered into the main area of the tavern and spent a moment looking around at the few people sitting there, then spotted Jarg relaxing as he often did when he had no work to do.

The man standing in the inn's doorway was Vansel Carth, the town's main blacksmith. As soon as his eyes lit on Jarg, he grinned and made his way over toward Jarg's table, waving to the innkeeper to bring a mug of ale for both of them.

Vansel sat down across from Jarg, gave him another scan that led to a smile, then chuckled as the ale mugs were set down on the table.

"I hear you've been helping out Madame Benrime here with odd tasks, deliveries, stuff like that, and removing nasty critters for the town."

Jarg nodded, shrugging his shoulders, "Better to do what work one can, yes? As for the monsters, the town is safer with them dead."

"Aye," Vansel replied, "But there are folks who started off here by calling you a monster, hmmm? Well, until they knew you, that is."

Jarg nodded again, "There are still a few that call me such, but I do my best to ignore them and do whatever work comes to hand."

"Well, Jarg, is it?" When Jarg confirmed his name, Vansel continued, "I could use someone like you in my smithy right now, there's all kinds of work that needs to be done and it requires a strong and steady hand. Would you be willing to give some of your time to help?"

"You're willing to train someone you barely know? Sure, I've been here a while, but I mostly stay to myself unless I'm needed."

Vansel chuckled, "You have enough sense to listen rather than just charge ahead, training you won't be too difficult. I have an order from another town along the river for a large number of longswords and pikes, it will be easier to do with two of us working."

Jarg smiled a toothy grin, "If you're willing to take the time, then I can make an honest effort to learn."

Both of the large men stood from the table, downing the last of their ales, then waved to the innkeeper as they left the building.

That was how Jarg found himself in the smithy across the wide lane from the inn, learning about the tools there and how to use them. The first day or two was spent mostly watching the smith as he worked, pumping the bellows as needed and doing other minor tasks.

On those days when the innkeeper needed him to do a delivery, Vansel would work alone; otherwise, the two worked together in the smithy. It took about a week of training before Jarg felt confident in using the hammer and anvils to try to make his first tool. It wasn't perfect by a long shot, being bent midway down the length of the blade, but the smith nodded and showed him how to fix it while the metal was hot.

A week or two passed, then Jarg tried making his first sword. Once again, it wasn't perfect, but it was reasonably straight and had a fair edge on the blade. The smith showed him the bits where he hadn't quite kept things true and Jarg managed to fix them all on his own.

The big order the smith had mentioned was due to be delivered in about two more weeks. Jarg and Vansel settled down to the work at hand, turning out a few pieces each day. Jarg's efforts were improving as he grew more familiar with the tools and the skills needed.

They worked late into the night on the last day to finish the order, which consisted of 35 longswords and 50 pikes.

Jarg and the smith headed off to their beds after a quick meal of cold meat pies and ale. They would be on the road shortly after dawn.

Vansel borrowed a wagon from his younger brother Argen's carpentry business the next morning to haul the shipment of weapons.

They had eaten more of the meat pies and carried a bag with close to two dozen more in it, along with a small keg of ale to drink. After setting the two heavy bags, one with the swords, the other with the pikes, in the wagon bed, both men climbed on the seat and were on their way.

They left the town by the north gate, then continued up the north road. An hour or two after they started up that road, they were attacked by a couple of rather stupid thieves who thought that they might be carrying something valuable in the back of the wagon.

It only took a moment for Vansel and Jarg to change the minds of the two thieves. Perhaps it was seeing Jarg's rather homely face that caused them to flee? In any case, the two of them were able to continue on their way, reaching their destination in the late morning.

Camris Jenzo was waiting in the front section of the other town's barracks when Vansel and Jarg arrived with the weapons. Camris took a quick look at the two bags of weapons, pronounced them suitable and handed Vansel seventeen silver coins in payment.

A brief stop in the barracks to share an ale with the soldiers and Camris was a nice break before the return journey.

Jarg and Vansel had no problems on the way home, other than a mangy dog chasing the wagon at one point.

When they were home, Vansel smiled, passing Jarg seven of the silver coins they had earned, "You've worked hard for it, lad."

Life settled down after that. Jarg was usually to be found in the smithy, although Vansel's younger brother Argen, the carpenter, sometimes had Jarg helping him out with work in his shop. Jarg didn't mind, he was learning useful skills and earning money in the process.

Then there were the times where Jarg, and sometimes Vansel, were sent out to deal with monsters in or around the town. For instance, a minotaur had found the town and was attacking people near one of the gates. Jarg and Vansel soon ended that bit of nastiness.

Another time, a siren was discovered in the waters not far from the docks. Two sailors went to their dooms in the harbour before Jarg found out about it. He talked with Vansel, Argen and the innkeeper, then obtained some wax and small bits of cloth to use to plug his ears.

As with the octopus several months before, the siren was sometimes seen lounging on the large rock in the outer harbour. Perhaps luck favoured Jarg that day, but the siren was sleeping until just after he pulled the boat up on the small bit of shore surrounding the big rock.

She did wake as he climbed the rock toward her, and she promptly started singing, figuring he would be entranced like everyone else. She was quite surprised, then, when he appeared to have no reaction to her song and it only took a moment before she was defeated by him.

Another time involved Jarg, Vansel and a couple of other men from the town going out and clearing a pack of giant cats that were attacking cattle and other animals owned by the farmers and townsfolk. That one took most of two full days before they killed the last one.

Other times, Jarg would be sent by the innkeeper to make a delivery to folks outside of the town. He enjoyed those days, as he could wander along on his own two feet in his own good time, which he found more enjoyable than being stuck sitting on a wagon seat.

The townsfolk soon grew accustomed to seeing him working mostly in the smithy, sometimes in the carpenter's. He was just another citizen.

"It figures that someone would want me to tell the story of the fight with the giant cats again. I've told this one a dozen times or more now!"

Jarg was sitting on his homemade stump stool near the kitchen of Madame Benrime's excellent establishment, the Journeyman's Inn.

He had recently moved into a room behind the blacksmith's, sharing the living space with Vansel, his brother Argen and Vansel's wife Twist. Even with that, though, when Jarg wasn't busy helping the smith or the carpenter, he could be found relaxing in the inn over a mug of ale.

He was simply relaxing on this fine late spring day when a big man entered the main area of the inn. Surprisingly, Jarg didn't know him. Jarg watched as the man waited for Madame Benrime to finish talking with Petter at one of the tables scattered around the room.

It was almost impossible not to hear the man when he finally did get the chance to speak. "I have a problem with a large pack of giant cats, Madame. Three times in the last week, one or more of the farmers nearby, including Valgas, have lost animals to these damn cats."

That was when Valgas himself came stumping into the room. Stumping because his right leg from the knee down was a wooden log. That was the result of an attack on the town several years before, an attack that saw three townsfolk die and several more take severe injuries.

At least, that was what Jarg had learned on the few times he had been out to Valgas' farm to deliver items or pick up goods for the town.

"That be the truth, Madame Benrime, there be at least a dozen of these giant beasties hitting the farms out my way," stated Valgas.

The unknown big man continued, "From the brief sightings we've had, these cats look like cougars, but stand as tall as my shoulder while on all four feet." He sighed, then pointed to my little table, grabbed two chairs and dropped them there, waving to Valgas to take one of them.

Valgas griped about being treated like an invalid, but most townsfolk knew how his leg still hurt after all this time, then took the offered seat.

The big man settled himself onto the second chair, then looked across my small table, giving me a slow, full look from head to lap.

He was, as I've said, a big man himself, a bit over six feet in height, but that pales in comparison to my full height of almost eight feet. Even with us both sitting down, he actually had to look up a fair bit to look me in the eye, but he didn't seem to be afraid of me, which was quite odd.

That was explained with his next remark, "You are Jarg Stonefist, I've heard some stories of things you've done for the town recently. As for me, my name is Kelman Larco, and I'm the closest thing this town and the surrounding area have to a fully trained war captain.

"As such, when needed, I can appoint people here as contractees for specific actions. I want to hire you to help deal with these damn cats."

I sat there for a few minutes, thinking about what he had just said. Naming himself as a war captain meant he would be in the middle of the fighting himself, and he wouldn't hold back during a fight, either. He would also chew out anyone that dared to play stupid games.

The fact that Madame Benrime just nodded over his shoulder as he started talking to me added to his reputation. She obviously knew him well.

I continued to sit there and think about this situation. To be honest, with the things I'd already done here, I couldn't rightly refuse the contract. I smiled briefly at Kelman, then nodded, saying, "I'll accept it. It's my opinion, though, that you should also have Vansel helping us."

Kelman chuckled, a brief sound that showed his amusement at my comment, "That's who I'll be meeting next, Jarg. Perhaps his brother, too."

I sighed and shook my head as I replied, "Leave Argen out of it, he's never fought in a real battle. At most, he's been support for such."

Kelman at least had the sense to listen to what I said. "Maybe we could bring him along, keep him in a protected spot where he could be support for us, mostly along the lines of having a portable forge and some other gear along to be used for repairing weapons and armour?"

I thought about that for a moment, then nodded, "That could work, but someone would have to stay with him as a guard, I'd think."

It was now Kelman's turn to nod as he answered, "Hmmm... Pelkarn, the woodcutter's boy, has some skill in fighting, he could handle that."

I grunted, "So you, me and Vansel as the main fighters? Is there anyone else with decent fighting skills that could give us a hand?"

Valgas had been sitting there with his left leg out full length rather than tucked under his seat and said, "Jomar the ranger is good enough."

I sat there for a moment, thinking; I'd met Jomar once or twice around the town. "Perhaps, he's definitely good with that longbow of his."

Kelman smiled, a smile which briefly made him look quite predatory, then added, "Bellon, the wagoneer and guard, is a fairly decent fighter."

I frowned for a moment after seeing that smile, then asked, "Would five of us be sufficient for dealing with these giant cats?"

Kelman nodded again, saying, "I think so. Hey, Valgas, how would you feel about acting as support with Argen and Pelkarn?"

Valgas looked up, then growled as he glared at Kelman, "I can still swing a sword, and I can use a short bow, too, if we can get one!"

So that was how, three days later, we were heading out of town on the east road toward Valgas' farm, which would be our base. Valgas, Pelkarn and Argen would stay there, with the portable forge Argen had brought from Vansel's smithy that the three had already organized.

That left myself, Kelman, Vansel, Jomar and Bellon to head out and try to track the big cats. Jomar would be taking the lead for that.

Seven hours passed as we wandered around the area containing Valgas' farm, and those of three others nearby. Valgas' property was on the north side of the road about three miles out of Fiddler's Vale, with the farm belonging to Ramsen on his east side.

On the south side of the road were the two farms belonging to Markol and Laman, two brothers who usually planted different crops. Laman was also one of the few farmers in the area who bred beef and dairy cattle, keeping a small herd on his farm for those purposes.

Markol thought cattle were too much effort for him to put out. He kept a flock of close to seventy bighorn sheep on his pastures.

It took us a bit more than a day to figure out where the cats were striking from; we'd camped just beyond Ramsen's farm on that first night.

We did finally find tracks of the big cats about half a mile beyond Ramsen's lands, along with the recent carcass of an older dairy cow. The poor thing had been dragged all that way from Laman's farm across the road. What was odd was the lack of sign before we found the dead cow.

There should have been blood on the ground along the path taken by the cats as they dragged the cow, along with bits of skin and flesh. There wasn't anything like that, though. Kelman had everyone stop, then looked at me as if to ask my opinion about what we were seeing.

"I hate to say this, people, but there's a human or humanoid helping these cats. That cow was carried here, likely on a wagon or cart."

Kelman nodded, then looked at Jomar, who also nodded, agreeing with my assessment.

Jomar then added, "I did see what looked like cart tracks coming from Laman's farm, but they were slightly odd, like someone wrapped the wheels in heavy cloth to disguise the marks that bare wheels would have made. See here?" as he pointed at a faint marking on the ground.

I grunted, "Well, that makes it for sure, then, someone or something is helping them. We keep hunting?"

Kelman nodded again, then had Jomar lead the way, as even those of us with no tracking skill could see the cat prints in the bare dirt.

We followed the prints along the dirt for about two miles before the ground switched to grass. Jomar scanned the grass, then pointed ahead.

"They not too far ahead now, mebbe half a mile? If I remember right, there's an old cave in the hillside above the road," Jomar stated.

Kelman knew of the cave that Jomar had mentioned; it wasn't very big, maybe fifty feet deep, but large enough for the cats to use it as a lair.

"We keep going, folks, but keep a watch, we don't want to get caught by surprise by these cats or their helper, whatever it may be."

We all nodded and so we continued our hunt, eventually arriving near the cave, only to hear one of the cats yowling in full voice.

Within a few brief moments, thirteen very large cats came running and tumbling out of the cave, eager to do battle with us.

What surprised us even more, though, was the orog (a greater orc) that was straddling a fallen log not far from the cave entrance.

Behind the orog, we could all see an old, roughly cobbled together cart, with its wheels wrapped in thick cloth and a dead horse in the traces.

As I was the biggest member of our party, I pointed at the orog, saying, "He's mine. I'll help with the cats once he's dead."

Kelman shrugged just as the cats made an attempt to swarm us. I whacked one in the side of the head with a gloved fist, then strode past it to face the orog. The orog stood up just as I approached him, then picked up a club that had been on the ground beside the fallen log.

This would be a good battle, the orog was almost as big as I am, but not quite as heavy. I hefted my own great club and grinned at him.

He got the first swing, which I avoided by pivoting slightly on one foot, then I swung my club at him as he briefly stumbled.

He snarled as my club slammed into his left shoulder, but shrugged it off and swung at me again, this time just clipping my left leg.

That hurt a fair bit, but it didn't feel like anything was broken, so I whacked him again, then hit him with the sword in my left hand, too.

I'm glad that I have human intelligence thanks to being only one quarter ogre, it sure can come in handy like it did now.

See, he wasn't expecting me to fight with more than one weapon, so my club only getting a glancing hit followed by the sword ripping into his torso just below his right armpit caught him completely by surprise. He staggered, blood flying through the air, so I swung my sword again.

The second strike with the sword was right in the neck, which wasn't protected. The orog dropped to the ground, already dying.

I looked down, then growled as I used the sword to kill the orog by cutting off its head. Then I turned around to enter the fight with the cats.

Kelman, Jomar, Bellon and Vansel had already killed five of the huge cats as I waded into the fray, using both the club and the sword.

All of the men could hear me growling in battle lust as I charged at the remaining cats, clubbing one on the head and slicing a fair chunk from another cat's shoulder as I burst through their little group, stopping briefly before I turned to charge at the cats again.

While I was turning, Vansel whacked one of the cats on the rump with his big hammer, smashing it's spine in the process. He followed up that hit with another strike on the same cat, this one to the head, crushing it and cutting off the horrible yowling sound the first hit had caused.

Kelman was fighting what looked to be the biggest cat of the six that remained uninjured, he ripped open its belly with one swipe of his axe.

By that point, I was facing the cats again, and with another strike to the head, I killed the one I had already hit there a moment before.

Bellon and Jomar were working together, Bellon using his sword and shield to harry one of the cats while Jomar used his bow. That cat ended up with an arrow striking just above its right ear, which distracted it enough that Bellon was able to slit its throat with his sword.

I then turned slightly and swung my club at the cat I had cut with my sword, striking it in the shoulder and knocking it off its feet for a moment. That was long enough for me to lean forward a bit and swing my sword, which came close to removing the cat's head in one blow.

I almost missed seeing Kelman rushing to stand just back of my left shoulder and strike at a cat that had somehow gotten behind me.

Kelman hit that one full on with his great axe, dropping the beast to the ground as it shuddered in its death throes.

Now there were just two of the cats left, I growled again and actually threw my club at one of the cats, hitting it in the middle of the back. I followed that up by pouncing on the same cat, swinging my sword with both hands as I landed, almost cutting the cat in half.

I picked up my club, and with a swift swing of my sword, sent that one on to the death lands to join its brothers and sisters.

Bellon and Jomar had worked together again, Bellon hassling the last cat with his sword as Jomar put three arrows into it. At the same time as Jomar's third arrow entered the cat's lower brain at the base of the head, Bellon swung and put his sword deep into the cat's belly.

That cat slumped to the ground, both the last arrow wound and the vicious stab from Bellon were killing wounds. Bellon's strike hadn't quite hit the heart, but it had cut one of the major arteries not far from the heart itself, and the cat only lasted for a few brief minutes before it died.

The battle was over, thirteen giant cats scattered across the ground in front of us and the orog lay dead near the fallen log next to the cave.

Kelman had been clawed at least four times during the battle, two of them getting through his tough leather armour. Bellon had taken a swipe from one of the cats on his left shoulder, which hurt enough that he had been having trouble keeping his shield up to protect himself. Vansel, like Kellon, was wearing leather armour, and somehow had managed to come through the battle with no serious injuries.

Me, I'd taken that hit to my leg from the orog, which hurt like hell, but from what I could see wasn't bleeding, just turning into a large bruise.

The five of us stumbled and staggered down the road for more than two hours, finally reaching Valgas's barn and the wagon there. Kelman had prepared for what might happen by having some bandages and three minor healing potions in the wagon, which had been left behind.

We all had a good laugh over that as Kelman, Bellon and I all had a dose or two of the potions, which soon revived us completely.

Vansel asked us to hand him our weapons briefly, then fired up the portable forge and fixed the minor bits of damage the weapons had taken.

Once he was done, he carefully shut down the fire, waiting for it to cool before he and I picked the portable forge up and placed it in the wagon.

We entered the town about an hour after that, with Vansel parking the wagon in the street in front of the Journeyman's Inn.

Valgas had decided to stay at his farm, which meant there were seven of us bellying up to the short bar, yelling for ales.

Madame Benrime appeared a moment later, listened as Kelman told her the cats had been dealt with, then served the first round of ales.

The seven of us partied late into the evening that night, sitting close to the hearth, with the tale being told there for the first time.

To this day, I'm not sure who came up with the name of "The Trouble With Cats" for the tale, but it seems to have become another local legend.

After the cat problem was resolved, life settled down to what Fiddler's Vale considered to be normal. For Jarg, that meant he either worked on the forges with Vansel supervising him, on the big saws with Vansel's brother Argen watching as he cut trees into logs and then split the logs into usable pieces with a large axe, or hauling food or other items to folks that lived in the area around the town for various reasons.

The days passed by with slow and steady regularity, then like an ill wind blasting through, everything changed in a few brief moments.

Three folks came riding and driving hard toward the town gates in the early morning hours not long after the gates had opened wide. All three were human sized or close to it, the one on the cart slowly resolved into the form of a white haired slightly shorter woman with a strange symbol blazing in the center of her forehead. Then a guard noticed that the one who was hooded had claws instead of hands.

Weapons were drawn and the three were stopped for a short while as explanations were given, then a seal was passed to a guard. This startled the guard, who identified it as a seal stamped by the hand of the town's mayor, and the three were allowed to enter the town.

They made their way to the city hall, eventually met the mayor and passed on their news. That news brought swift response from the mayor, he called for messengers and had them running to find representatives of the temples, the mages' guild, the town guard and several others.

The three ended up waiting outside the city hall while the representatives were summoned and met with the mayor.

While they were waiting, someone near them yelled, "Loitering again, I see!"

That was when the tall one noticed the speaker in the street before her, a tiny woman astride a fair sized dog, wearing a big grin.

That turned into a reunion of sorts as the two spent a short time talking. It turned out the tiny woman, whose name was Duskade, had been accepted as a member of the town's guard troop, and had proved herself in several small skirmishes since that time.

The tall one, Acera, sighed and shook her head as she told Duskade that major trouble was coming their way, "Things are going to get seriously bad, Duskade. The undead and the shadow people are rising and will be gathering to make an assault on the town some time soon."

Duskade just shrugged it off and waited with them while the three sat there in front of city hall for the next hour.

Seeing that they wouldn't be called back inside any time soon, Duskade eventually suggested that she show the three around the town. Acera replied, saying that made sense, and added that they had been told to go to the training grounds to meet the town's defenders.

The small group wandered off, an odd one for sure, especially with tiny Duskade leading the way.

Jarg was in the smithy, working at one of the forges, partway through making a plowshare for a farmer when the news reached him.

"Huh," he grunted as he swung the hammer at the implement again, "that doesn't sound good? The news is sure?"

The bringer of the news, a town messenger named Sharm, shrugged and nodded as he replied, "We're to set up a defensive force."

It was Jarg's turn to shake his head, he could hear Vansel muttering, "Another bloody invasion,dammit," as he worked at a forge nearby.

Jarg chuckled, he'd heard a few stories from Vansel, Vargas and others about events that happened before he wandered into town to stay. "Thanks for bringing us the news. Vansel, I guess you'll be meeting with the mayor about all of this?"

Vansel nodded, shrugged his shoulders and sighed as he laid the horseshoe he had just finished making aside. "I'm on my way now."

Jarg stood there watching for a moment as Vansel removed the big apron, hung his hammer on a pair of heavy nails on the wall and left the smithy. Once the smith was gone, Jarg released his own sigh and returned to focusing on the work of shaping the new ploughshare.

Vansel was a big man, somewhere around six and a half feet tall, broad shouldered and strong from all the years of working a forge. That wasn't changed at all by his steel blue eyes which looked everywhere as he walked to the city hall, or his very short salt and pepper hairstyle.

He'd strapped a different hammer onto his belt before he left the smithy, a hammer with a large point on one side of it.

He walked into the town hall, spoke to an older woman at the counter and waited for a few minutes before the mayor led him into his office.

The mayor wasn't much younger than Vansel, perhaps forty years or so to Vansel's nearly fifty, but he was quite a different person. Theodor Rumbelfeld was easily a foot shorter, and quite stout rather than muscular, as he rarely walked anywhere since he had held office here.

Vansel looked down at the red-faced mayor, who apparently was angry at the fact that his town was being invaded again. The emphasis the mayor put on calling it his town was all too obvious, the silly man acted as if the town wouldn't exist at all if he wasn't there to run it.

"I'm here, Theo. What do you need me to do?" Vansel was blunt to the point of rudeness, there was way too much work to be done if there actually was an invasion on the way. Add in that someone had said the invasion would be by the undead and the shadow people and that meant that, once whatever weapons were made by him, Jarg and others, they would need to be blessed by one of the priests from the temples.

"Well, hello to you, too, Vansel. Damn inconsiderate bastards to want to invade my town. We need lots of weapons, Vansel, especially stuff that can be used by just about anyone. Daggers, scythes, hammers, anything that can be made in large amounts and as soon as possible."

"That's going to take a lot of time, Theo. Have you talked to the other smith, Gregg? He does most of the farm tools for the area," Vansel asked.

A knock at the door of the office interrupted them. The mayor waved to Vansel, motioning to open the door, and he did. Standing just out of the door's path as it opened stood the other smith himself, Gregg Boulter, carrying his work hammer in his large left hand.

"'Twas a messenger at me shop, telling me to get me arse here in double time, so here I be! What be happening with us?" he enquired.

Vansel waved him in, then turned to face the mayor again as he stated, "We're to make simple weapons for any folk to use, Gregg."

Theodor nodded, grumbling as he sagged into the only chair in the office behind a simple yet large wooden desk. "Anything that a townsperson or a farmer could wield fairly easily without a lot of training, daggers, scythes, hammers, stuff like that, and we need it all right now!"

Gregg laughed at the mayor's grouchy attitude, shrugging it off as he looked over toward Vansel. "I should be able to do a fair amount of each of those items as long as I don't get interrupted constantly. I assume you'll be working on making these items as well, Vansel?" he asked.

Vansel nodded, and after several minutes of further discussion to clarify things, he and Gregg walked out of the city hall together.

Once outside, Gregg turned and started walking toward the northern end of town, where his shop was located, as Vansel went the other way.

Vansel returned to his smithy a short while later, informed Jarg about what they would be doing and the two got down to business. Several townsfolk were startled by the repeated concussive slams of two heavy hammers as the two men worked late into the night.

On the day after the town was warned of the invasion to come, the two were busy working when the outer door of the smithy suddenly opened. A small shape strode into the smithy, peering around until they noticed the two men at their separate forges, now staring at her.

Yes, her, the new person was a dwarven female who appeared to be a fairly recent arrival, her simple clothes were dusty but serviceable.

She stepped closer to the two full sized forges, moving slowly and carefully. It was only when she was fully within the light of Jarg's forge that they could see that she was carrying her own portable forge and had a large belt with a variety of items in pouches or strapped to it.

"I bid ye a good day, masters. I be here to ask if I might set up me small forge here and work with ye on making weapons?"

The soft lilting voice was a surprise to the two men, even more so with the slight accent and speech pattern that spoke of distant places.

Vansel stepped around his forge, still holding his hammer, chuckling softly as he approached the small woman.

"Good day to you as well. Ahhh, nice little portable forge there, that's useful. That holy symbol is an odd one, I don't know it," Vansel stated.

"That be no surprise, good sir. Austri has called me to serve by protecting others and by working at a forge when I can spare the time." That simple statement, along with the symbol of the hammer and anvil shining on her brow, made her intent to help the town in any way quite clear.

Vansel nodded and helped the woman, who told the two men that her name was Kotori, to set up her forge in an open space.

The first thing that Kotori did after her forge had been set up was to bless each and every weapon Vansel and Jarg had already made. Only after she had done that to every single piece there did she begin the process of lighting her forge so she could add her own efforts to theirs.

It didn't take long for Kortori's smaller hammer to make its counterpoint against the sound of the larger hammers the two men were wielding.

The steady beat of the hammers could be heard each day as they created various pieces. Vansel was making warhammers while Jarg was creating a steady supply of daggers and the occasional short sword. Kotori made slightly smaller hammers similar to Vansel's warhammer.

The only interruptions were from Vansel's brother Argen, Vansel's wife Twist or Madame Benrime, telling them they needed to eat something. Each time they finished eating, they returned to the work. There was so much to be done and no telling how much time they had to do it.

As each piece, dagger, short sword, scythe or hammer was finished, Kotori would bless it and add a spell of protection against undead to it.

War was coming, every blessing would be needed to help keep the townsfolk safe in the battles ahead of them.

Two days had passed since the town had received the warning of the impending invasion of undead and other dark things.

Jarg and Vansel, along with Kotori, had worked hard all day long making weapons for the defenders to use during the invasion. Now that the day's work was done, the three had settled down in the room with all the dining tables inside the Journeyman's Inn.

Kotori was drinking an odd brew that she had asked Madame Benrime to make for her, the two men had their usual ales.

As they relaxed there, a tall, slender yet curvaceous woman entered the inn, then made her way to their table and grabbed a nearby seat.

The new woman was Vansel's wife, Twist, and she carefully placed her tall rowan wood staff against the nearby wall as she sat down there. Twist was an earth mage, perhaps in her middle thirties, with bright silvery hair and odd cat-slit amber eyes in a beautiful oval face.

No one in the town had any idea as to how her eyes ended up that way, and her silvery hair, while slightly odd, was not all that unusual.

"Hello, Jarg. Work done for the day?" she asked. Jarg's simple nod in reply led to Twist relaxing in her chair, sipping from her own ale mug.

"Well, I suppose you've been wondering how I ended up with the name Twist, when my momma and papa named me Roselle?" she asked again. Another nod from Jarg had her look around, then resume her little tale, one he had been itching to hear for quite some time now.

"I suppose I was about halfway through my nineteenth year when our village, some distance north of here, was overrun by a large pack of orcs.

"They were beating and killing other villagers, not yet having reached our small home, and momma ordered me to run away and be safe.

"I managed to slip past three orcs that were going into the hut next to ours, then I hoofed it into the woods outside of town.

"I'm not sure as to how long I ran through the woods, no, forest, before I stumbled into a clearing with a very old rowan tree in the center. To this day, I can't explain why I entered that clearing and approached the tree, but my feet would not let me turn around and leave.

"Then I heard a voice, a strange, hoary, old sounding voice. I looked all around for a moment before I realized it was the tree speaking. It said something like, "Child, come closer, I have a great gift for you." Of course, being young and brash, I stepped closer to the great tree.

"I could feel something, it seemed to be coming from the tree, but I couldn't figure out what I was feeling. It was all rather odd.

"The tree continued to talk, the hoary voice somehow keeping me calm when I should have been running away as fast as possible.

"At some point, as the tree talked to me, there was a strange cracking sound. A moment later, a long branch was thrust into my hands.

"Just as I grasped the rough-shaped rowan branch, there was a yowling sound behind me and a moment later, I was knocked down. The creature, a large cat by what I could see of it as it barrelled through the clearing, had clawed my shoulder as it went past me.

"I laid there on the ground, crying for some little while before I noticed that my shoulder didn't hurt at all. In fact, it felt just fine. I took a quick look at it once I stopped watering the clearing, and all that remained of the nasty claw marks was some barely visible scratches.

"I stared at my shoulder, lost in my own thoughts for perhaps half a candle mark before I was able to focus on anything else.

"The tree had gone quiet at some point while I cried. The oddest bit was that I hadn't even noticed that it had stopped talking to me. I guess you can imagine my surprise when it began speaking again, saying that I was twice blessed, marked by the cat plus my being a mage.

"The tree spoke to me for a few more minutes, then I received the not so gentle impression that it was time for me to leave.

"I did so, carrying that staff, marked by the wild cat, and made my way back to my village to see what had happened. Now, several hours had passed since I had run from the village, and the sun was lowering toward the western horizon as I approached the village.

"I was appalled, there was not a single building left standing in the village. In fact, most had been put to the torch by the orcs. The smell coming from some of the huts and hovels had me running to the edge of the woods, where what little food that was in me came out again.

"I could see about a dozen orcs still roaming through the destroyed village, likely looking for more bits of treasure, I suppose.

"I stood at the edge of the village, staring toward several of the orcs, when I suddenly thought of a way that I could fight the creatures.

"I held my staff steady in front of me, then called upon my deity as I spoke the words to the spell called entangle by human folk, moving in the patterns required by it. Imagine my joy when the very grasses in the village wrapped around five of the orcs, holding them in one place.

"I had no control over my tongue as I uttered the words to the next spell, which drove many sharp spikes up into the entangled orcs. That was followed a moment later by a third spell, this one being one named earth tremor which tossed the orcs up and down. As I said, there was a sense of someone guiding me as to what to say as a fourth spell came forth, lightning striking the orcs down in a huge, blinding flash of light.

"The feeling of being compelled by something pulled me around the village's edge until I had almost reached the other side.

"Once again, I began uttering words, making motions, and as before, several orcs were entangled, spiked, thrown high and dropped, then blasted by lightning that I called down from the sky, a sky that was clear and bright, with not a cloud to be seen anywhere.

"Within moments, the last orcs within the village's boundaries lay dying, gasping out their final breaths as they were roasted alive.

"I kept watch for perhaps an hour after the final spell had been uttered, and then I received a shock that left me briefly senseless. That shock was the sight of my dear momma, crawling out of what remained of our home. She was trying to reach me across the ravaged ground.

"I met her about halfway, then knelt and held her as she, in short spouts of broken speech, told me what had happened after I left.

"I didn't actually need to hear the tale she told, but I knew that listening to her as her life slowly faded was what I needed to do.

"What I didn't know was that there had been a witness to my routing of the orcs, a young boy perhaps ten or eleven years of age. I did not see him at all, but when I stopped at the nearest inn, about a day's walk from the village, I saw people whispering as I stopped for a meal. It was at that time that I heard the tale he told to the folks there earlier that same day, a tale of how I twisted the earth itself in that battle.

"The lad had continued onward after telling his tale and being fed, and the story was repeated in each inn where I stopped.

It took me nearly two weeks of long, rough walks, staff in hand, before I reached the big city well off to the east of this place. I stayed in a shabby inn in that city for almost five days, wandering from inn to tavern to ale house, hither and thither, always hearing that tale.

"I never did find the lad, and I eventually decided that the city was not for me. I made my way here, another two weeks of long, hard walks.

"By the time I reached this town, I was barely able to stay upright, as I had not had any solid food for almost four days.

"During my travels, from my old home to here, I sometimes had to fight wolves, large cats, and other creatures. Sometimes I would manage to keep what little food I had when the beasts attacked, sometimes they would take it, sometimes they would steal a kill I had made.

"In any case, I gained the knowledge to cast several earth magic spells, much like the ones I mentioned earlier, plus the lightning.

"If it were not for those spells, and the fact that I could remember the chants and actions required for them, I would not be here today.

"And that, my dear Jarg, is the story of how I was named Twist due to that tale the lad from my village told, and how I came here.

"Perhaps, maybe another time soon if we survive what is coming, I might tell you the tale of how I managed to wed this old lug."

The smile, and the love that shone on her face as she looked over at Vansel, made it quite clear that she loved him and always would.

The town was busier than it had ever been before, new people were coming in to offer their help for the upcoming siege. Some were fighters, some were folks who could act as support in various ways, repairing weapons and other items, making bandages and other supplies. There were even folks who were making large amounts of simple foods that would last for quite a while, ensuring that everyone would eat.

Twist was sitting at a table in the dimmer back area of the tavern located on the ground floor of the Journeyman's Inn. A very large man was sitting not far from the hearth, and he would occasionally get up to shift the heavy pot or other items for Madame Benrime, the innkeeper.

Twist had been introduced to him last night and learned his name, Jarg, when she told her tale of how she came to Fiddler's Vale.

Everyone in the town knew that there would soon be a siege, an attack on everyone there as revenge from an evil sorcerer who had kidnapped the friend of two of the folks in the town. Many had heard the story that an all female adventuring group was rescuing that friend.

Well, this evening had been rather interesting, Twist thought to herself as she relaxed in her chair, sipping from a fresh mug of ale. There had been stories from several different people about how they came to be there, but then the woman named Emmy told her tale to the large crowd filling the tavern from one end to the other, many of them simply sitting on the floor or squatting near tables that held their drinks.

When Emmy finished, having included the half-orc named Goruza and the catfolk ranger Milah who were sitting near her in the tale, she smiled and executed a partial bow, then grinned and raised her mug to salute the folks of the town. The tavern erupted in raucous cheers.

Twist smiled and raised her own mug in a salute to Emmy, then sat back and thought for a short while before rising to her feet to face the crowd. "Good folks, we all know the danger that is coming. Some of us will fight as we are able, some will help behind the lines.

" I promised the following tale to several folks here when I related my story last night of how I arrived here. And so we go...

"I'd been here for a bit more than a week, perhaps ten days, when I was asked if I would help on a small mission to rescue a child who had fallen into an old well on his family's property a mile or two outside of the town. I doubted that I would be of use, but I did go along with them.

"We reached the property not quite an hour after we had left the town and the owner of the place led us down to the old well.

"It didn't take long for me to notice that the well was rather damaged, definitely due for either repairs or complete replacement. A quick scan of the walls of the well showed me that the whole well would collapse with just the slightest nudge of my powers as an earth mage.

"I used my abilities to pinpoint the precise location of the child, then waited as they lowered a rather interesting looking arrangement of a seat fastened between two long ropes. It took three tries before the child was able to grab onto the seat, then lever himself into place.

"Once the child was safely above ground, I asked the owner what he intended to do regarding the condition of the old well. His reply was that they had a newer well with a deeper access to good, clean water closer to the house, so they no longer needed this one.

"With a little further discussion, I was given permission to close the old well in a permanent fashion.

"That turned out to be rather easy, I simply used short nudges of my tremor ability to shift the upper portions of the well and make them fall into the well hole itself. A few further nudges and the remains of the well were covered by dirt pulled from the area around me.

"The property owner was quite impressed with what I had done, and we spent some time talking after I had finished my work.

"That led to further visits with him, which led to him coming to visit me in town, then I met his second cousin Vansel and lost my heart.

"I had no idea that the two men were related to each other, even though I had seen the big smith in the distance a few times.

"Well, I had decided to stay, and within a few days of the rescue of the young lad, I was helping the town with various earth problems. Problems like making sure that a ditch just outside the town could be properly arranged, including some spikes set as traps for horsemen.

"There were other 'problems' such as needing dirt to be placed so that the ends of a bridge could be properly set and the bridge built.

"As time passed, Vansel and I spent more time together, often relaxing at a table here after the days work was done.

"I still didn't realize just how important Vansel was to the town, at least not until he obtained a contract to make two hundred longswords. That was when I learned that he was not just a smith, but an actual weaponsmith, with a reputation for making excellent pieces.

"His size didn't bother me at all, he never tried to intimidate me or anyone else. He just did whatever work was needed, and did it well.

"I suppose it was almost a year after I arrived her before he asked me formally to be his wife, and I soon agreed.

"We had a quiet wedding service here in town at the temple of Mitra, and I was quickly moved into his apartments behind the smithy.

"We had been married for not quite two years when I was asked to join a group doing another rescue mission. I quickly learned that this one was to help free the folks caught in the collapse of an old mine. I worked along with many others for just over a day to clear an entry path.

"Once the hole we had made was big enough for people to get through, I stayed out of the way, only occasionally nudging the piles of rock and dirt to one side or the other to make the hole a bit bigger and thus easier for the folks trapped inside to make their way out to us.

"Even with my powers, it had been very difficult to get the huge pile of collapsed rock and dirt to shift and form a hole within that mess. I ended up staying there for another three days once everyone had been rescued, moving the rest of the collapsed rock and dirt out of the way.

"I heard afterward that they had people go into the tunnels to check them, and reinforce walls with heavy beams where they were needed. If doing things like that would help to ensure the safety of the people working in those tunnels, then I would be there to help them.

"To be honest, most of the abilities that I've found that I can use seem to need to be done in an open area somewhere outdoors. I've actually tried a couple of them indoors, and let's just say that I won't do that again. Poor Argen, I didn't mean for those spikes to pierce his leg!

As time passed, I learned other spells that could be useful, like Shillelagh which turns a staff into a stronger weapon and Flaming Sphere, that's a rolling ball of fire that does a fair amount of damage to anyone that gets in the way. Hurricane Blast is pretty obvious, I'd think.

Thorny Entanglement is like the usual entanglement, but with the added bonus that the plants can make ranged attacks. Ice Storm is another one that I like, that throws out hail in a cylinder/circle forty feet wide and can do significant damage in a very brief time span.

"I suppose that I would be a druid, but if so, I am an unusual one, as I did not learn these spells through a teacher in the usual way. No, I was definitely unusual in that respect; I literally had my first spells implanted in my mind the day I killed the orcs in my old village.

"That's right, it wasn't until my deity, Njord, gave me those spells to use that I was able to do anything like that. I'm still learning, and I believe that I will be able to study further in the various elemental aspects. I am surprised, though, that I have no spells for the healing arts.

"If that means I must depend on a healer being nearby while I do my work, then I will do my best in the hopes that they will not be needed.

When Twist finished speaking, she sat down again and found that a fresh mug of ale was sitting on the table for her. She raised her nearly empty mug to the crowd around her, getting some cheers from them for the tale she told, then settled down to listen to other folks' tales.

That was when she noticed Jarg nodding to her from across the room. What was that about?