The Librarian

[Catz]

<roleplay>
Walks with her old bent back through the corridors of her burnt down library looking at what was once the proudest library of all of Ganareth now those books written in ancient times who's paper was yellowed with age are no more but black ash, the windows shattered and the walls sother.
All she has left is herself and her puffy white cat, whos age is of no ones knowledge, but some say that a white cat always had lived within the halls of the great library. Others even went as far as to say it was the very same cat that had now lived there for aons on end.
But now the old lady sends her plea to the people of Ganareth to visit her library with their stories so that those small stories may by their numbers raise the library from its ashes to the grandeur it once had.
She ask you, nay plead you to open the large wooden door of the Library and Enter. (http://catz.guildsofganareth.com)

While watching the people of Ganareth start to come back to her library to help her resurrect it to its foredom glance, it hits the old librabrian tired mind that the libraries name that once stood over the the doors also burned down, and alas her old mind can't remember what it was.
But then a wise kid whispers that she should make a petition for the people of ganareth to pick the name for their new library, but to help them out she has come up with a few names already.

1. The Gathering of Ganareth
2. The Library of Ganareth
3. The Emancipator of Ganareth
4. The Myst of Ganareth
5. The Reverence of Ganareth

These are the names her old and tired mind could come up with, now she asks you to write your votes down below on this paper or if you have another suggestion for a title write it.

---------------Petition Wrtie Below Here-----------------------------

[Edited on 26/8/2003 by Catz]

[feron]

Me an my esteemed zombies would opt for #2

[Gremhawk]

A swirling darkness appears in front of the library, rising up about 6 feet. As it begins to dissipate, a figure can be seen inside of it. Slowly, the darkness whirls away, leaving a mage standing in its place, his black robes pronounce what he is, his ebony skin screaming out his race. The dark elf looks up at the Library and stares at it, remembering times before. Shaking his head softly, he walks up the steps and through the aged doors. As he enters he sees the Librarian and the petition sheet. Walking over to it, he glances around at the room, studying faces, books, and the layout of the library.

When he gets up to the Librarian he pushes his cowl back, revealing his face. The mage nods to the Librarian and looks at the sheet, almost immediately marking off the second selection on the list. Just then he hears a purring coming from behind the desk, and curiously asks the Librarian what it is. As she holds up the cat the mage stumbles backwards, distancing himself from the cat, sneering at it angrily.

He glares at the cat, which is now staring intently at the mage. Growling, the mage picks himself up and walks hastily out the door, disappearing in another fog of swirling darkness.

[Serenity]

Serenity walks into the huge library. She is filled with amazement and awe. Although the insides are old and worn, she can picture in her mind how beautiful it must have been years ago. She aproaches a desk with a questionaire on it asking what you think the new name shall be.
'Well I like number 1, but number 2 seems more fitting. ;) ' she thinks.
She checks box number 2, pets the fluffy white cat, then wonders around the library.

[Shazi]

humm, either 1 or 2...

1 sounds as if u actually collected things around u... "hear the tale of the might adventurer, ow, btw, i got his head here" :P

2 sounds like a big collections of books (which it is :P) and would prolly suit it better...

So i vote 2!

I Shazi have.... ah nvm...

[Catz]

The old Librarian walks to the old desh and eyes the petition, she sends her thanks to the 5 that voted but at the same time she hopes that more will take the little time it take to pick up the quill and sign the petition. She also hpes that more people would write their stories to her library, which is constantly growing and now contains an entire 2 books. :). after this she goes to Serenity and have a little chat with her over a glass of fine elven wine.

[Shazi]

Shazi wanders around in the library, he is a little dissapointed at the lack of persons that votes so he places two orc guards outside to "encourage" all bypassing persons to enter the room and vote

[CamasDauthi]

Somewhere on the fontier a young wood elf finally is over come with fear by the evil coming from the Dodo tavern. She hurries back to her rock as she sits on it she wishes she had the dodo back.. Suddenly a black mist envelopes her and the rock as it changes back to the dodo, it immediately takes off at full gallop, she thinks not again.. The dodo runs faster then any dragon could ever fly ( must be enchanted) but it sure isn't as graceful and talk about hard on the bottom. Finally she can take the rough ride no longer and finds herself crashing to the ground as her rock rolls to a stop, she wonders at the rock.. As she gathers her wits while watching several people wondering around in a dream talking of the "Great Library" as if it is still there she marvels for she see's nothing but a smoldering ruin.. She walks over to a kindly looking old lady and asks what was this building called a library, for though magic follows her every whim she can't read

[Taurendil_Cuweasse]

As the sunset brought the day to an end, a cloaked man could be seen approaching the library. As he walked through the library's doors, the librarian noticed he carried a lute strapped on his back and watched him as he walked around, silently admiring the library.
- May I help you - Asked the old librarian. The man, whose back was turned to the librarian, stopped walking, turned his hooded head as if looking at his own shoulder and continued to walk around, this time, going through the variety of books on the shelves, still with his hood on. By the gracious way he moved, she guessed he should be elven. For a moment she believed she heard him hum something but it probably was just her old ears fooling her again, she thought.
- Would you like to sign a petition, sire? It is about this library's name. -
The elf (it was an elf indeed) stopped surveying the books and walked towards the desk where the librarian was sitting her tired legs. He read the petition and made an X on the second box from the top with his quill. He then took a small parchment roll from the small, quiver-like bag next to his lute, wrote something on it and put it on the suggestion box. The librarian could see well-kempt light brown hair coming out of the beige hood but nothing else reached her eyes.
- So, I reckon you are a musician? Are you any good with that lute? -
The elf nodded allowing the librarian to catch a glimpse of his eyes. He had a mesmerizing look but she thought his eyes showed some sort of grief. He then turned away, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out of the library into the night, leaving the old lady lost in her thoughts for some seconds. Then she picked up the parchment he had put in the suggestion box and read "Records of Ganareth" written on it.


(This is a character I'm gonna play, a wood elven bard, probably named Loomelin. And this was my first story ever, so tell me what you think about it.)

[Edited on 30/8/2003 by Taurendil_Cuweasse]

[Gremhawk]

Back in his tower, Gremhawk rumages around his spell lab, tossing containers and books out of the way, as he looks for an object. After several minutes of looking he finds it, a silver key with an intricate design. The key was created back in the Golden Age, and had survived all these years. It's power was to unlock any lock, shaping itself to fit, and to disarm all traps about the lock, mechanical or magical. He puts it in one of his inner pockets and grabs a scroll, reading from it. When he completes the spell the scroll bursts into flames and Gremhawk is suddenly gone...

....as the librarian shuffles around behind the desk, organizing and cleaning, a loud "pop" is heard near the back of the library. Curiously, the librarian coems out from behind the aged wooden desk and makes her way to the back of the library, looking down the aisles. She hears a grating sound to the right and walks towards it. Just as she rounds the corner, one of the stone walls drops back into place, covering a tunnel behind it. She walks up to the wall and feels around it, looing for where the cracks should have been. Flawless, the wall shows no sign of an entrance, and nothing except for the destruction of spider webs at the top says that there is one. Quickly the librarian walks back to the desk, looking for old maps of the library...

...walking down the tunnel, Gremhawk listens to the noises of the underground cavern below the library. A soft rushing of water is coming from the west, and a constant dripping sound is heard somewhere ahead in the darkness. He casts a spell before moving on, bringing a globe of light into existence ahead of him. It floats with his will, moving forward slowly. As the mage walks deeper into the bowels of the library it becomes strangingly dryer. The water should keep the cavern dense and wet, but it is almost as dry as a high summer day. As Gremhawk comes around a large stalactite it is apparent why. Ahead of him, for hundreds of shelves, lies the historyo f Ganerath in volumes of old tomes. Grinning to himself, Gremhawk searches for specific tomes, carrying them with him. After finding the few he wants, he pulls out the key and mutters a few words on it...

Upstairs, the librarian, still upset with the discovery of the hidden tunnel, and no explanation of it on any maps, a clinking sound is heard behind her. She turns to see a silver key lieing on the floor, She picks it up and suddenly an illusion appears before her. It shows the cavern below the library, and the tunnel leading to it. After several minutes, another illusion appears, displaying instruction for the key. It says that after 2 uses, one top open the door, go down and set the books on a pad in the middle of the room, and one to come back up, the key will disappear, returning to it's owner. Once she returns from the cavern, she is to go to the 5th book on the 3rd shelf of the 2nd aisle from the right and open the book. On the 334th page, she is to say the 59th word. After that, the books will appear in the middle of the library, where the tables are located.

The illusion disappears in a flash, leaving the librarian wide eyed.

"A gift," a deep voice says behind her.

Turning, the librarian sees a familiar mage standing in front of the desk. Suddenly she remembered he was the one that signed the petition and ran from the cat!

"What? I don't understand," the librarian replies.

"Knowledge is power. I'm taking these few tomes here with me because of the knowledge in them. The rest I have no need for. They are a gift to you and this place." Gremhawk states. He looks sadly around the library, as if remembering sometime in the past. "Take care of this place. Know that there are those who would burn it down to destroy this knowledge. Also, allow all in to study here, even those of us of the dark."

The librarian stared at Gremhawk, tears running down her cheeks. "Thank you."

"Also, take this. Though I would see the name restored, whatever you decide to name this place will be carved into the stone above the door. All thee needs do is think of the name and utter the words 'Aladarah sicfern milocad' and the name will appear." Gremhawk says.

Turning around he walks through the doors and down the road, becoming more and more insubstantial until he is but a ghost on the wind, returning to his dark tower...

[Catz]

After many days with the petion being open for all the old librarian thinks that plenty of time has passed for all who cares to sign it. After carefully counting the number of signatures for each of the names to the library she has come to the conclusion that most if not all wanted it to be called "The Library of Ganareth" but being her eyes are old and weary who knows if wrong she counted.

She staggers into a little room that are behind the desk which she calls her own and takes what was handed to her by the dark mage and chants the words that was so told to her by him while thinking of the name the people have choosen.

'Aladarah sicfern milocad
Aladarah sicfern milocad
Aladarah sicfern milocad'

And it was in times to come said that those who entered the library at just that moment saw a sigth never to be witnessed again, what they saw was written down as ancient flames burning the name of the library into the stone above the door in letters that changed to be in the language of whom ever read them.

In the nite after the old librarien staggered through her library to the shelf marked with the sign of the ancient dwarfs that in ancient times helped build these migthy halls, she walked along the shelf to the back wall where acording to the instruction the key is to be used. And here though she been there many times she now see a keyhole, a hole she could have sworn was never there before. She with shaking hands put the key in the holes and a rumbling starts as the wall infront of her eyes part and fall inwards revealing a tunnel entrance that steadily head down into the unknown.

She mutters to herself. "naur'koron eledhwen" and a ball of fire appears infront of her casting a steady and gentle ligth on the surroundings, her lips turns to a small smile, she is glad to see that not all her knowledge of elven magic has been lost in the old and weary head of hers.

As she slowly starts entering the tunnel with its moist and slippery stones the ball of fire floats infront of her casting its ligth on her path. she walks for what seems hours to her unsteady on the moist rocks, nearly falling a couple of times. but at last she stands in the cavern she saw in the illusion, but the illusion did not do the place just, infront of her in a cave so big that she cannot see the end of it is hundreds of shelfs as tall as proud elf, all of them with books so many that she cannot start to guess how many they are. She immediatly starts muttering a curse over the ancient wizard for only giving her a key that worked 2 times, for with the amount of books in this cavern she would certainly need to come hundreds of times to get them all. But any way she starts going through the shelfs quickly skimming the titles of the books after getting the dust of them, and those she deem is of most interest she cast a spell on so they float through the air and over to the pad that lies in the middle of the room, when she has collected book so many that she don't think the overload pad can have more she starts walking back to the pad, but just ah she comes near she glance down one row of shelf and there at the very end past the shelf is a table with a single book that she would have overseen if it where not for the ray of ligth wish seem to come out of nwhere from the top of the cave and shine down on the book.

She walks over to the table and pick up the book reading the title and quickly her heart starts beating faster she takes the book not casting a spell to make it fly, cause she don't dare to have this book sufer an accident cause of her vaining magic skills, she walks back up the tunnel trying to remember what is was she should do to get the books back still carying the book in her arms, she gets to where the wall fell inward only to find that by some magic the wall is there again as massive as it was before, she puts the key in the keyhole and the wall simply disappears with a crackle not falling inwards or outwards, but as soon as she walks past the wall and into the familiar halls of her library the walls reappear out of nowhere with a sizzle, she caries the book back to her little room having forgotten all about the other books and how to retrieve them, only carring for this single most important book of them all. She lies it on the table in her room, knowing that in the time to come she will be reading itand cleaning it of dust. after havig laid it on the table and made sure that no harm can come to it she goes to bed wandering what books the dark mage, for dark she knew he was she could snse such things, had deemed more important than the book she had found in the cavern, slowly long into the nigth sleep finally caugth up with her and her eyelids closed covering her eyes soon there after all that could be heard in the library where the white cat was prowling around the shelfs which she had done for so long looking for anything that migth harm the libraries only 2 books all that could be heard was the sound of the old librarian snoring.

"ZZZZzzzzzzzzz"

[sivitri]

ooo Catz does it a game *clap clap*
Another chapter!

[Serenity]

***Notices the librarian snoring and smiles**** She then leaves. She hopes more ppl will visit and leave their stories.

[Catz]

After hearing tales of people being sent into nothingness as soon as they entered though the door of the library, the old librarian studied the ancient roles about the library and in specific about the entrance to the library. After having studied many nites in a ligth so weak that she had to squint her old eyes to see the writings on the roles she stumbled upon the tale of the young elven boy that once in a time long gone visited this library.
---------------------------The Story of a young elven boy-----------------------------------
The boy young as he was had little care for the thousands of book that ligned the shelfs of the library back in those times of greatness, he was infact only there cause his master and teacher in the arts of elven magic had brought him there. But what did entrigue him was the white cat that laid on the desk and stared at all that entered the library as if either guarding the library against those who wished it harm or as the boy suspected just passing her long day by counting all that entered the library.
Seeing this the boy himself got intrigued in counting the thousands of people who kept coming and going, but then his master came back from where ever he had been and anounced that it was time to leave, he had found what it was he was in search of. But the boy who was intrigued asked the librarian. "How many visitors do you have?" in his young elvish melodic voice. The librarian an old human man looked up at the unknowledgeable boy and sighed. "that we most certainly do not have time to count, young boy, this is a library meant to read books not a tax office of one of the lords."
The boy taking that answer as unacceptable quickly cast a spell on the library door making a 2nd and magical entrance that the only thing visible about this entrance was a stone that appeared to the left of the large doors and counted all visitors that came once a day. The boy was immediatly kicked out by the old human who was in a fury over the boy imprudence over altering anything to his beloved library. But from that day on the number on the stone kept increasing by one for each uniqe visitor a day."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After having read this an idea sparked in the old lady librarians head and the very next day she contacted an old elven mage she had once helped out with finding an important bit of parchment in her library so he owed her a favor and there fore came as fast as he could.
When he came he was instantly brough into nothingness as soon as he tried talking through the doors. but he being an elven mage soon found out and then entered the door with out any problem. Once in there the old librarian told the elven mage about her theory that the young elven boys magical counting door was somehow in disorder, the elven mage started laughing and only after he had come down was he able to tell the librarian that, that young boy so many aoens ago was non other than himself, but he also thought that it sounded very possible that it could be true, and if his memory served him rigth the magical door was attached to the name and being as the name of the library has changed the door now pointed to something that once was but is no more. Without further explanation he took forth his wand and in a chanting melodic voice chanted words in elvish that the librarians old ears could not understand nor even start to grasp.
After a short time the elv stopped and said that the door was now fixed and that all those who had been trapped in nothingness had been scattered across ganareth. the old librarian smiled and thanked the elv that immediatly left the library since his job there was done.
In the day after people could catch the old librarian whistling happy tunes to herself as she wandered around the still very empty shelfs of her library hoping that those scattered across ganareth would bring forth the world that the old library needed their stories of their lifes.

[Caveo_Eminor]

*thunder rolled and lightning flashed. From the curtain of rain, a dodo appears with a tall figure on it's back, heavily hooded to keep the rain out*

There Amber, thanks for carrying me this far.. now is the time to rest

*The tall figure leaves his dodo under a small roof and mumbles some magic words. A fresh and aromatic pile of vegetables and fruits appears in front of the dodo. The tall dark-elf enters the library and takes off his watertight robe*

Ah.. the once glorious library of Ganareth.. it's been a long time since I was here.. too long.

*The dark-elf greets the old librarian and notices the white cat*

Ah.. it's good to see that your watchfull eyes still keep an eye on all this ancient knowledge. I have returned, some knowledge I need.. it must be here

*Caveo whispers something to the cat, and scratches her behind her ears. The cat stands up and walk over to a bookcase in the back.*

Thanks friend... that is exactly what I need.
Maybe I'll hang around a while, and we'll try to rebuild this library to it's former glory

[Edited on 12/9/2003 by Caveo_Eminor]

[Ironmonger]

Forcing of the door was more painful then he had expected. Three poundings his shoulder had taken. Again, and finally on the forth blow, the door, which had held back many an unwanted guest during hours of late, broke free of it's hinges and locks as liken to the cracks of thunder on this storming night!

Stooping he entered, his massive form filled the doorway as he did. Ironmonger took in his surroundings, his yellowed eyes unimpeded by the darkness. Lightning stormed outside again, flashed its anger, as if the gods themselves objected to his presence. By the time the thunder passed, Ironmonger's eyes were again unblind.

His great bulk trespassed further. Upon an aged wooden desk, strewn with papers of little interest, a map, his meaty hand palmed. Leaving behind only the smear of his own blood as a crusty trail. As he strode forward to the rear of the library, suddenly, he froze. The hairs on his back a bristle, his eyes sought the shadows, his left hand had deftly stashed its fletched parchment, and now held, with its thumb upon its stopper, an inky vial of wicked marbled black liquid.

His right whipped away his cloak and lay lightly upon the hilt of his weapon. Only few had lived to tell of this, for Ironmonger's sword lay behind his back, upside down, from his left shoulder to his right hip. Its cruel curve like a rib from death himself.

Perfectly still, even his breath had stopped. It almost tickled his sense of smell. His eyes found no sign of life. Yet he knew, something was here, someone or something light. Another moment and it was dismissed, the vial awayed, the blade again covered, better to not hunger it, the tug could be resisted....

His mission in mind. Knowledge was power, and those whom employed him had needs, and the knowing of such tombs, even their place of rest was important. Recovery was preferred, however rumor must be verified. His job was simple, verify the rumor, kill the mage if possible, and a barrel of gold and gems if he could retrieve a handful of writings.

A moment later Ironmonger in the back of the library. A quick scan to be sure he is still alone. The scent is stronger here, and he feels the slightest whiff of stale air and knows he has found the hidden passage. He was 'informed' his shoulder nor any of his natural strength would prevail on this sealed hall. He had assured them that sorcery was not for only mages. His left hand uncorked a blood red vial, which he quaffed. It was like swallowing hot lava, and it blistered his tongue and throat as it burnt its way down. And then it happened....

The only witness, the librarians white cat, wisely hidden deep in the book shelves, a mage may be wise enough to be wary, but a beast such as this another story would be. Ironmongers back arched, and his muscles swelled, until the veins and tissue seemed ready to burst against his girth of steel and leather! Then in one motion he stepped directly through the stone, as if they had never been mortared together at all! He moved now in a blur, as he traveled down the tunnel, where his shoulders touched rock fell. He strode into the empty chamber. No mage, no tombs. Angered he assaults the nearby stalactite, grabbing and shearing it off at the base, he hurls it at the empty shelves. The shelves crack and fall as it passes through them and the far cavern's wall objects to the stalactite as it embeds itself a new home.

"No barrel of bounty this time!" Ironmonger grumbles to himself, spitting blood. He makes his way into the stormy night, fighting mother natures wrath, a pained body, and a hungered sword, "Maybe next time, maybe next time...."


[Edited on 10/11/2003 by Ironmonger]

[Aruwan]

~Slowly opens the door to The Library of Ganareth~

~Catz offering a volunteering welcome
sheltering us in warmth and care,
showing all a truly comfortable lair.~

~Wondering around the book shelves, I could imagine
their bright, joyous days in this enchanting place.~

~Gently close her eyes and meditates.~

I shall make a pray...
to ask for healing of the wounded souls,
both the dead and living.
Who fought against the wrongs placed upon them
and other like them.

The librarian proud and honored,
Tell our stories Our history
So that we will not be forgotten
And that others may understand our cries of
Right and wrong.

Help the children understand the ways,
The laws, The freedman
Teach us how to protect our future by learning of the past
Tell them of our contributions to Our world,
Their world as they know it
As to not let death be in vain.

~Beauty is a moment when you open the door,
the sun forces inside, the flowers smiles to you.~

~I shall return again~

[Catz]

And it was in those cold and dark days when the library of ganareth opened it doors unders its newest adress it had received under a city renewal ordered by the headmen of the town. That the library sent out its emisaries. Palened Knigths riding on white horses rode to the sound of thundering hoves out of the town gates in every direction. Their goal to reach the farthest corners of Ganareth in their search for knowledge, wisdom and history. All they gathered they would return thus filling the crying emptyness that where the library.
Nothing should the let them stop on this quest, if armies oposed them they would gather in their plentitude and overrun them and under the steeled hooves of their horses crush them, if town denied them entrance through their gates they would scream a cry for knowledge and and it would open the gates to all town are shatter their walls, if wizards of both dark or ligth where to deny them of what they sought they would swing their enchanted swords ripping all thats was the wizard out of his physical body and thus acquiring what they sought.
What they gathered to the shelves of the library would remain there for all times until Gothar God of Gods decided that time was no more. Only one way to remove something from its rigthfull place in the library there is and that way secret to all remains yet unhidden.

[palantir]

Eidolon looks around and notices that his long diary has been lost or burned. He shakes his head and walks away, determined not to make that mistake again. Why, he wonders, would his notes be tossed to the wind? Someone foul must have taken noticed and with a wave of a mighty hand, deleted his handiwork, it may have been good or bad but it was his. *sigh*

Eidolon

[Ironmonger]

With the wave of his mighty hand (this he thinks of himself), lucky he had had the foresight to grab some paper from the library. For even stalwart warriors such as he had to answer to mother nature!

The remainder of the tomb he saves for later use. Unfortunately, roast rat did not always agree with his bowels as it did with palate.

"Lo! He whom steps in that shall surely be sorry!" Ironmonger grumps! Off into the night he stalks!

[palantir]

The heavy rain flowed off his hood onto the already soaked earth. From the edge of the forest that butted up to the town, he peered at the entrance of a fairly small building with 2 Orcs standing under the overhangs. “Strange trail”, he thought to himself. On the ground were large footprints filled with water. These weren’t any footprints but prints of a troll or troll-like breed.

Eidolon smiled with satisfaction. Torch light fell on his obsidian skin with little reflection except for the eyes. Under his hood they gleamed with intensity. His prey was close. Long had he tracked this agent of his enemy. At some point, he must meet him again and he would be there to greet the fell master. He had time and he had patience. Still, he itched for results.

The rogue made his way to the side of the building for these are where the prints went. Of course, the broken door tilting far over made the search easy. Always this brute destroyed where he might have walked with little trouble. But he would not underestimate an agent of a mage, there must be good reasons he chose this abomination. Even his kind didn’t like the troll folk.

An old lady came down the street and passed by the Orcs only giving them a cursory glance. She stopped to inspect the door but seemed to already know what transpired. As she turned to head to her office, Eidolon slipped by her. She paused with a backwards glanced, then shrugged and kept going. Eidolon was a master and didn’t even spare her a glance as he made his way into the building, following the small markings on the floor left by his prey.

The library was musty with the exception of the humid air that breezed in. He found a hallway where the prints stopped. There was no noticeable markings on the wall but obviously there must be a path. He put his hand on the wall and place himself exactly where the troll stood. It was risky but he had to do it. Strange syllables murmured from his lips. His hand glowed where the wall touched his hand. With a small pop, he appeared in the corridor on the other side of the wall. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he paused a moment to let the nausea pass. Magic always took a bit out of him but few of his brothers could do the feats that he has been able to achieve.

His eyes took in the blackness of the corridor. He could feel the way down as tunnels were very familiar and he needed no sight. That won’t help him find clues. Why was Ironmonger here? He could still smell him so he hadn’t been gone long. He lit a sconce on the wall with a thought. He walked down the strairway into a broken room. A stalactite stood proudly impaled in the wall. “My my, what a temper you have. You obviously didn’t find what you needed.”, he spoken quietly and chuckled into the still room. Books were strewn about the place with broken shelves and chairs. Most of the shelves had been empty.

That’s when he noticed a crack in the wall too straight to be caused by the stalactite. Using his dagger he pried away the mortar to find a small book hidden inside. He looked over its leather cover, runes imprinted on the cover with a binding about the book. It could wait. No need to tempt fate by opening such a thing now. Walking to the top of the stair he cast a spell to leave this place, appearing back in the forest where rocks formed a symbol for his tie.

“Yes, this is interesting indeed. You’re move Ironmonger, I shall find your master yet.”, speaking to the wind and rain. He couldn’t have gone far.

Eidolon

[Ironmonger]

Drip.........

Drip drip...........

Splash!

The forest canopy released its hold of rainwater, gravity bringing it down faithfully towards Ganareth soil. However, as fate would have it, something empedes its way. That something would be a sleeping half-troll known as Ironmonger.

"Aaaaaagh!" With alacrity he draws his sword. Ptuwee "Huh? What? Grrrrrr." A sniff of the air (not but himself). Natures alarm clock. Checked and wiped by his oil cloth his blade can be awayed. Standing and shaking off the water, Ironmonger stretches first his legs, then his back, shoulders and neck, and finally his arms and hands. His hands, large, scarred, greenish in hue. With these he takes the most time. Each digit, individually worked. As his master long ago had taught. This daily care could be the difference between living and dieing, a simple truth, even for a half-troll.

After he has eaten some dried meats and fruits from his pack, he breaks camp. Collecting the rope and twine, releasing the bowed trees from his nearby night traps. With all in order he heads off seeking high ground.

A climb of fifteen minute up a sheer cliff; which few could manage, gains good purchase for a view of the local woodlands and town a league away. The first sun of Ganareth slowly arcs the sky, breaking up the nights clouds and causing the trees to steam below. The plateau is home to a gargantuan gnarled oak, its bed of rock and boulder broken up and loosed from the growth of its roots. Its age beyond measure.

"Hum, I like this spot." He steps to the shade of the tree, places his pack and extra gear down. Then moving to an open area Ironmonger uses the heal of his boot to scratch a circle in the dust. Six of his paces, he is careful to create the correct diameter. After which he steps inside the circle and draws his sword. The swords runed surface gleams tellingly. All at once he begins to move, swifter then sight, he cuts the air. His steps deliberate yet graceful.

He works his way in the circle, always aware of his position. Sweat begins to bead with the fury of his moves. His invisible enemy presses the attack and so does Ironmonger! Blow after blow. Feint. Slash. Parry. Reposte. Stab! The moves increase in speed, the order of the attacks vary, until finally in a blur of motion the swords become one! The death blow is struck. The ritual is over.

Again Ironmonger cares for his weapon and then himself, once again he stretches. Now all is right for him. Upon a rock he sits. Not far off town begins to wake. Ironmonger wonders, "We shall see what next. If my master is correct I should not have to wait long."

The second sun of Ganareth his risen.