The Rod of Lordly Might

#121

Klaatu made a sweeping gesture to Andimia and the group walked into the cave. The large trunk lay open near the forge, which was still glowing with an unusual heat. Cabinets were open, and flasks, bottles, and containers of different powders were on the shelves. Several of these were also in the trunk, along with a small anvil, some smithing tools, and assorted wrapped packages. Braandu clumped over to the trunk and stood there, waiting.

The mole man walked over to the weapons rack. A variety of finely-crafted swords, spears, pikes, and shields gleamed there. There were several different kinds of metal apparent in their manufacture. None of the implements were painted, or even had leather grips. Just the finest, polished, unadorned metal. Steels, brass-colored alloys, the twinkle of gem-points functionally imbedded in blade edges, and unknown metals; all made to exquisite standards but without any trace of paint, tassles, artwork, or insignia. They gave the impression of crisp, cold, brutal efficiency. Light and strong. Reliable and effective. The warrior would have to add his or her own "art".

"Here." Klaatu said. "You might use a few, a few of these arrow points." He picked up a long, apparently very heavy arrowhead from a box by the forge and with a quick flick of his large hand, flung it across the room -- where it imbedded itself with a "ching" into the granite wall at eye level. A few chips of granite fell to the floor. The point did not fall. "They are unexcelled, unexcelled for long range shots, or for penetrating heavy armour. My archers were greatly feared." He walked over and with some effort, carefully pulled it out of the stone with a pair of pliers, avoiding the sharp edges honed on the arrowhead.

He then pulled out what appeared to be a hand-and-a-half Bastard Sword of about three feet in length. It seemed to be much too thin to be able to withstand the rigors of combat. With a practiced motion, he drew the metal under his nose quickly but carefully so as not to let the edge cut him -- and gave it a satisfied and noisy "Sniff" as if it smelled delicious. Then, with a quick and easy swing, he flicked it toward a lump of iron slag by the forge. The blade sliced off a piece of the heavy metal, which flew through the air and landed on the floor at Andimia's feet.

With a flip, Klaatu reversed the sword and caught it by the blade. He tossed it hilt-first to the half-elf. His fingernails were apparently also made of metal, and they made a metallic scratching sound as the sword slid lightly over them. The blade still keened with a high musical tone as she caught it handily. Even after cutting off an inch-thick piece of iron, the ridiculously thin blade was undamaged, barely nicked. It was laminated, forged in rippled paper-thin layers, made up of several kinds of metal, bonded to a deadly razor edge that sparkled and glisted from thousands upon thousands of nearly invisible gems that reflected microscopic rainbows. A unique masterpiece, of untold value. Totally plain, but totally beautiful.

"It's yours, if you want it. Or check the rack and choose something else, something else more to your preference. You might say making these is my hobby, my hobby." He obviously knew the value of such weapons, and was unsufferably pleased with himself.

"Or, you can have a useless lump, a useless lump of Gold." He sniffed again, but this time with quiet derision.

While this went on, Braandu shuffled back and forth from one foot to another. Then, he walked over to the corner and picked up an enormous maul, with an iron handle that ended in a point, just like the shovel. The black hammer-head was easily a full hand wide, and massive. The blade opposite to the hammer was much too big for such a tool. Long and sharply-pointed both up and down, it appeared to be a silver battle-axe blade, and was of a different metal. Unlike the other tools visible in the cave, it was adorned with gold filigrees and deeply engraved runes. It had been skillfully welded into the head of the hammer. He stuck the handle in his belt so the huge head protruded above, across his belly with the dirty tunic, out of the way of his massive arms. Then he filled a good-sized bottle with water from the well, and hung that from another spot on his belt. Finally, food from the cold-well went into a bag on his belt and more into the chest.

He stood there again and looked at his father. Expectantly? That was unknown. The narrow vertical slit from the base of the helmet over what would have been mouth and nose, and the horizontal slit for the eyes showed no eyes or face beneath. Only a smooth stretch of shiny metal glinted, as if Braandu wore a mask of glistening metal under the helmet.

Klaatu looked at Andimia and said, "What will it be, my dear?... rest tonight, or leave right away? It is all the same to me and my son, my son."

The Rod of Lordly Might

#122

The birds were waking. The world was just a shade lighter than it had been. The sun would be rising in only a couple of hours. Even the first bird could be heard chirping in the trees.

Morning would be coming, and a fresh day lay ahead, a full day, at least, for those who had taken to sleep between the old one and the new. For some it might not be so.

For some, like a thief, who had let a single chance encounter and a sisterly feeling let her lifestyle change from that of a comfy bed after a hard dishonest day's work, to sleeping in strange places with strange people.

For some, like a mole-man and his son, who had abandoned otherwise important dealings with important people, to help against an unknown danger, an unknown cold thing, for those who could not feel it near.

And for some, like a girl. A girl who had left her home and her family on the idea of adventure, who returned to find only pain and anguish. To find her past destroyed, and only the present remaining. Who sat alone, with the only person left who shared her home. The only person left who could understand, who felt her pain, or would feel her pain if he were not lying in her arms unaware of the world around him.

For those, there would not be a new day. Only the old one, broken by a world of darkness, and maybe an hour or two of rest. For those, all that was afforded them was the road ahead. The road of destiny and greatness. For some, this greatness would not be recognized with medals or honor or gold, but the road of greatness was the path that lie ahead of all of them, and the weariness and loneliness that it would come with it all.

-Chronicles of the Rod of the Rang'Shead Mountains, Volume I, chapter 3

The Rod of Lordly Might

#123

"We should keep moving." Andimia said as she examined the blade, realizing that it wasn't even slightly marred. She then tested the balance of the sword in her hand with a few swings. "Do you have any longbows in that arsenal? I left mine back at the inn." She gave the sword a few more swings, as if battling an invisible foe, then looking satisfied she looked to the moleman. "This will do just fine. Have you any daggers too?"

The Rod of Lordly Might

#124

OOC: I have to do this before I continue...is he dead or something?

The Rod of Lordly Might

#125

"Yes, I have three bows," Klaatu replied. "They're in the back, the back in the corner. 'Contaminated', I might say, with wood." He paused. "That's a joke... a joke." He looked at her hopefully, but no one laughed. He wrinkled his nose and went on.

"The long hunting bow and the short combat bow are composites, composites, mixed wood with tempered steel cores. The middle-size one is only wood. A good bow given to me by an elf I once befriended. I keep it as a standard, a standard to test my improved models against, although I have never made a successful bow entirely of metal, of metal. He didn't like my composite bows either, even though they gave greater range, range and power. I can't use a bow very well. Suit yourself, yourself. You may want to shaft some, some of those 'squeak' arrow points."

The squeak-word was unintelligible. It sounded like a quick whistle with consonants.

"Daggers and knives are under the bench there, over there. Take what you can use. We will be passing through some troublesome spots, some spots, and I'd like you ready as can be."

"You can add your eyes to my nose and ears. Braandu will add... will add... " the mole-man hesitated and looked away, "his senses as well." He glanced up at his son, who stood there silently.

"Let us move out tonight and cover ground before the dawn comes. Then the humans will probably be about their wars again." He sighed.

Braandu picked up the trunk. It must have weighed over 400 pounds, but he hoisted it to his back in one smooth motion and slung it there with two thick leather straps over his shoulders. Then he picked up the shovel. If anything it was even taller than he was. They went outside the cave. Klaatu scrambled up the figure that towered over him, up on top of the trunk.

"This is a short trip, so we're travelling light, travelling light." He didn't bother to see if she would laugh at this one. "Let's go!"

The Rod of Lordly Might

#126

no he is alive, but he won't wake till morning

The Rod of Lordly Might

#127

Braandu watched Andimia look over the weapons and select a bow. He didn't care. He didn't use weapons, and never learned how to use a bow. Father never asked him to kill anyone. Life was precious to Braandu, particularly because of his... his condition. He didn't even like squashing bugs under his feet, although that couldn't be avoided. They were alive, and he wasn't. Or was he? Father said he was.

The voices said he wasn't.

He didn't need to kill to eat, since he didn't eat. Or drink. He couldn't put anything in his mouth if he wanted to, since he had no stomach. He was semi-solid. Not liquid, not solid. His life essence was in his Cersi. The heat he needed came from his center, his core. Father told him to protect his center. Father said the heat would last and last forever, until he was healed and back where he belonged.

The voices said he would never be healed.

He had the appearance of a nose and a mouth once, years ago, but they were stupid. The effort of keeping them was stupid since they didn't really do anything, and he stopped holding their shape. Father seemed disappointed at that, and encouraged Braandu to concentrate on his appearance. Father made wonderful soaps from the fundiments, and taught Braandu how to as well. However, Braandu no longer cared if his tunic was soiled. Being clean was stupid, too. Father nagged at times, and seemed sad at others. Then he would usually teach Braandu something or make him show that he had learned his lessons. Boring. Sometimes Braandu wished Father would go away so he could just be alone.

But now here was this elf-lady, or was she a human?, coming with them. That would be new! She was so energetic and full of life. She moved like a panther. Her eyes were so alive and beautiful as they looked around and showed her emotions. He could see hurt-marks on her in places as he watched her. He wished he could have hurt-marks again. He wished he could be full of life. He wanted her to like him, and talk to him, but he couldn't talk. No lungs, no air column, no vocal cords. He felt stupid. Maybe he would get a chance to write a message to her with the point of his shovel in the dirt. Then she would know he was in there; that he wasn't stupid. Then she would play with him! Like his big sister used to.

The voices said, ["She is afraid of you. You are big and dirty and ugly. You scare everyone. If you play with her you will hurt her."]

Braandu thought bitterly, "Why, Father, did you make me so big???"
.
.
.
The trail down the hill toward Uncle Brendalo's house stretched before them, over the rocks that would leave none of his footprints. They should be able to walk for several miles down into the valley before having to worry about danger that night. The cave door would close behind them and their home would be safe until they returned. He hoped.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#128

After choosing the hunting bow and slinging it over her pack, Andimia took some of the arrow points and put them into a leather pouch so she could make some arrows later. She then went to where the daggers were kept and pulled out the two daggers that were sheathed horizontally across her lower back, replacing them with new ones. She proceeded to remove the old, notched daggers from sheaths on her right thigh, right calf, left hip, over her left shoulder blade, and one in a hidden sheath in each boot and replace them with the moleman's finely crafted daggers. She then grabbed up the shortsword and its scabbard and secured it around her waist as she walked out of the cave to join the others, Grinning when Klaatu jests about their light packing.
"Alright, let's head out."

The Rod of Lordly Might

#129

They hiked until dawn. Braandu kept up a challenging pace at somewhat above walking speed. It was challenging in that it never changed -- whether going down an easy trail into the valley, crunching over broken rocks, over (or crashing through) branches or even small trees, or across a fairly sizeable stream. His great form was apparently tireless, despite his load. His father had to remind him at times to slow down so he wouldn't get knocked off from his perch, or so Andimia could keep up. Not that she wasn't able, observed Klaatu. She was trim and fit, and seemed able to jog endlessly, although he had taken to holding her bow and pack sometimes so she could better keep balance on rough ground or swim.

Often, Klaatu would order his strange mount to pause, and ask the half-elf to look from certain higher vantage points for campfire lights ahead, or examine tracks they came across. He would illuminate the latter with his staff briefly for her to have a look, whenever he or Braandu sensed something was or had been near. It was obvious the mole man did not want to be observed, but the steady "clumping" made by his incredibly heavy son did not lend itself well to purposes of stealth.

Once, when Klaatu had stopped the party and clambered down to "stretch my legs and offload some slag" as he put it, Braandu was left alone for a few minutes with Andimia nearby on guard, peering out into the darkness before dawn. The boy-man "looked" at her for a minute, then started scratching in the dirt under his feet with the point of his shovel. There was a bit of light appearing in the eastern sky when Klaatu returned, and he climbed up and they began again.

The scratchings said, in Common, "YOU BE MY FREND?"

Braandu did not know if she saw it or not as they started down towards the place where Klaatu said they could camp and rest.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#130

OOC: Sorry...thought I kept posting.

IC:
As dawn seemed to break way, Alexia had seemingly dozed off from the cold rain and then cool night, causing her to become ill in due time. To give off warmth, she gave Tethon her cape, laying his head in her lap. As the sonÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s rays started to glisten towards the forest floor, Alexia could feel some of the warmth and lean towards it.

At first she felt a relaxing ease, and then she remembered what had happened, and sighed with a heavy heart. Yet, hunger gurgled through her stomach in loud, obnoxious waves. Standing up crossing her arms to recieve some warmth she headed towards some of the homes for food and came with nothing in hand.

Footsteps were herd at least two miles away, giving her time to send her horse off until needed and hide in one of the burnt trees. She checked Tethon to see if any improvements were made and slowly his color came back. Dragging him off, tucking him in a base of a tree and then proceeding down where he was, Alexia could hear the echo of her stomach. Grabbing a wet leaf, she chewed on it to keep her stomach at ease. With a bitter taste in her mouth she sat near the royal guard and shivered.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#131

Dawn was breaking as if with some effort, as the night's drizzle had subsided and the sun was having to struggle to lift the edge of the black clouds. From his vantage point on top of his mount, Klaatu said to the other two, "One more stream, one more to cross and then up the rocks to the safe-cave. We should hurry, hurry."

He instructed Andimia as to where to find the cave, and gave her the bow and her pack in case they became separated. "Braandu and I will enter the stream, THERE" (he pointed) "and we will emerge 8.22 furlongs upstream THERE at those rocks, those rocks so he leaves no footprints to the cave, in case, in case someone is tracking us. I am sure that one of your skills, your skills will be able to get to that point without leaving a trail, so let us separate and meet at the top of the talus, that talus in about an hour. The cave entrance is above that, above that, and behind a flat rock."

The giant turned and clumped down to the fast-moving water, avoiding soft ground. Disappearing into the stream, Braandu walked right to the center of the current and turned upstream, walking against it with no particular effort. Klaatu took these moments to stash his staff, hyperventilate rapidly; then he slowed his breathing and heartbeat to a crawl once again. "I hate water!" he muttered in his home tongue.

The boy's helmet submerged, followed by the trunk-top, then Klaatu under the water, over two fathoms deep. They disappeared from view. The mole-man's blood, rich and scarlet red with hemoglobin, evolved from millenia spent in anerobic underground environments, carried an abundant supply of oxygen -- which was being used almost not at all at this point. He flapped limply behind Braandu like seaweed stuck to the tail of an eel. His hand, so often used as a shovel, was now clamped like a vise around the leather strap. He was using virtually no other energy in his body.

The minutes ticked by. 5... 10... 15... then a ripple, then a wake appeared. Suddenly, the soggy mole man burst from the surface of the water with a loud "Gasp!" and some splashing. Then the trunk appeared, with him on top, then his son's head. As if the mile-long submarine trek had been nothing more than a refreshing spring shower, Braandu emerged onto the rocky beach and started up the talus slope. Birds were starting to wake up and sing. The cave was in view... and none too soon for the nervous fundimentalist.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#132

Tethon's back arched upwards as he reached for his ears in silent, agonizing pain, and then, it was gone. He lay on the ground still shuddering from it all as thought and memory pushed their way through his mind. His heart was racing, pounding in his chest, and only now did it dawn on him exactly where he was, or more accurately, where he wasn't. Now he took in Alexia and stood abruptly, checking the surrounding forests for anything that might endanger them.

"Where are we?"

The Rod of Lordly Might

#133

Alexia shivered from her position and put her finger towards her mouth. Two men from the north side had started checking for any survivors. She craned her neck out towards the outside and felt a lump in her throat when he asked where were they. Clenching her jaw she managed to keep the lump down to a mere swallow.

ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…â€œThis place should be familiar.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬? She managed to say, holding back what little tears were left.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#134

Andimia waited until the others were in the water. She made sure that her pack and bow were on tightly and pulled a thin leather strip out to tie her brown curls back into a tail. The half-elf then dove into the water, swimming with the current. By the time she made it to the other side she was about a half mile downriver from where she had entered the water. Climbing up onto a rock, Andimia wrung out her hair and untied it as she sat with her bare feet dangling above the water. She pulled her pack off of her shoulders, setting it onto the rock and got her dry boots out of the sheep stomach bag. She shook the water from her toes and slipped the soft boots on. Getting up, Andimia softly picked her way along the river, careful not to leave noticeable tracks, as she headed for the cave that the Klaatu had described.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#135

Recognition seemed to dawn on Tethons face. He looked around again, and looked down, his gaze at the ground held for a few moments.

"Come, we should be gone from here. I do not recognize those two, but even if they are with us, the enemy could return at any time. You must survive to retake the throne, but that day is not yet. I will help you hawever I can, but I truly know nothing of such things, so you will have to decide our course. For now however let us move, we have no time to waste."

The Rod of Lordly Might

#136

She wanted to argue and say he was wrong but there was nothing wrong about his words. Stepping out from her ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã‹Å“hidingÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢ place, Alexia looked out with another sigh and whistled for her horse who came out of the trees. She had a burden on her shoulders and so did Tethon. ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…â€œWhat survivors are left? TheyÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢ve decapitated them all and there is no royalty; just a naive girl.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬? She thought, getting on the horse and waiting for Tethon.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#137

Klaatu's robe, dripping wet, was already starting to dry. He was on foot, moving over the mine tailings. He sniffed the traces of the sharp, acrid signature-smell of tungsten that he had mined out of this location in the past, and used to make arrow-points, and as an alloy for some of his best steels.

Smiling, he thought to himself, "Ahhh, the good stuff. Hard to find! 19.60 times denser than fresh water. Twice as dense as my best steel. Nearly the densist metal I've been able to get". But then, alarmed, he smelled something else. A trace of a foul stench. A familiar stench.

"ORCS!" He squeaked quietly to Braandu. "There have been orcs here! We must be careful. They might have heard us approach." The huge armoured boy backed off a bit down the slope, confused, and afraid.

Perhaps with good reason. A volley of bolts flew out of the cave. Two struck Klaatu in the chest and one bounced off Braandu's leg. The mole-man fell back onto the rocks and rolled down the slope.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#138

Klaatu rolled down a short distance, then laid flat on his back behind a large rock. He checked where the two bolts had penetrated the cloth of his robe, but had been stopped by his Erskillite chain mail. It represented his finest workmanship of a lifetime; made of the most exquisitely tiny composite-metal rings interlocked and individually welded with hardly a trace of a line in the rings. Only a needle could penetrate the tiny gaps, but the entire article weighed only a few pounds. The mail was woven inside his robe, in two layers of metallic cloth.

He pulled up his hood over his head and down to his eyes. It too had chain mail in the cloth.

Crude, hoarse laughter and primitive curses could be heard from inside the cave. Reflexively, he checked the crossbow bolts. He threw them away.

"Crude, ordinary iron points on the bolts. Bah. Scarcely better than stone age. Effective, though. That one will leave a bruise. Thank ooloo they didn't hit my face!" he thought. "I am an idiot! Too much of a hurry... just had to get into that cave."

"Braandu!" he squeaked to the figure up the slope. "Come here! Bring the chest! I need my helmet!" He felt his son's emotions rising. "Don't be afraid! The orcs cannot hurt you this time!"

The mole-man waited, peering out from behind the cover, about 100 feet from the cave entrance. Braandu approached and set down the chest, then cowered back, nervous. His mind raced back to the last time he had been attacked by orcs. It was hideous... He tried not to think about it, but the voices were whirling back in there, in his mind, quietly screaming out fear and threats of death. Again.

Klaatu looked down at the river. "Where is that lady?" he thought. "I could use her eyesight. And I don't want her to walk into a trap!"

The Rod of Lordly Might

#139

Andimia continued up towards the cave, nearly dry by now. She thought back to earlier, Had Braandu written something on the ground? She remembered seeing him scratching something into the dirt but didn't pay much attention to it at the time. Suddenly Andi heard rustling in the foliage ahead of her and the click of three crossbows. Snapping out of her thoughts she dodged to her right, two of the bolts wizzed by and the third embedded itself painfully into her left thigh as she rolled into the brush. Cursing she pulled out a dagger and waited silently for her attackers to come for her. Her leg throbbed as blood seeped out from the sides of the wound. She didn't want to risk pulling the bolt out now, she had no time to worry about blood loss and it was rooted past the barb. She cursed at herself for not paying better attention, she could have easily dodged all three bolts if she hadn't been off in thought. She inhaled sharply as the pain flamed up her leg. Stabbing the dagger into the dirt she painfully got into a crouching position and drew the thin sword that Klaatu had given her and picked up the dagger with her left hand.
I can take care of the first one without a problem, he won't even know what hit him.
Andimia shifted her weight to her right leg as she listened to the Orcs thrash closer. She tensed to strike.....

The Rod of Lordly Might

#140

Andi watched through the thick branches as an orc with a heavy sword was slashing through the brush near her. With one forward swipe the orc nearly hits her, and on the backswing to cut more foliage she deflects his blade with the dagger and lunges up on her right leg, easily thrusting the thin blade into the ork. Face to face with the hideous creature she saw the surprise on its appalling mug as she felt the brute's hot blood upon her hand. An orc not too far off was carrying a crossbow, as the creature turned to fire Andi twisted the sword in the dying orc's gut and grabbed the collar of its fetid armor. The creature's knees began to buckle and she guided its falling body with the blade that was wedged in its torso towards the direction of the oncoming bolt; allowing it to catch the barbarian in the back before she let the beast fall lifelessly to the ground; her sword jutting skyward from the corpse. She pulled a dagger from her right thigh and flipped it into the air, catching the flat of the tip between her thumb and two fingers she whipped it at the second ork as he drew his ragged sword. Unable to follow through with the throw due to the pain bubbling in her left leg she was slightly off target and caught the orc, luckily, in the neck. The creature crumpled to its knees, blood gushing from the wound.

Grunting, the orc got back to its feet, determined to take this elf-woman down with his last breath, but the third orc came charging past him, finally aware of the situation.

The pain in Andi's leg began to subside as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Wrenching her blade from the body at her feet Andimia stepped over it and readied herself. The orc ran at her, bringing down its sword with crushing force. She parried with both blades, but the power of the blow knocked her off of her feet; Andi's head painfully struck the ground. As she scrambled back to her feet, all of the color drained from her face. She glanced at the second orc, he had fallen back to his knees and was breathing heavily as blood continued to pool around him. The third orc charged again, this time Andimia dodged under his sword and spun around, stabbing him in the side with her sword and in the back with her dagger. He bellowed in pain as he reared back, knocking her off her feet once more. They both crumpled to the ground like rag dolls, but Andi was the only one still breathing.

Andimia slowly got up. The bolt had pushed in further, tearing itself sideways during the fight and was now rubbing against bone. She fell painfully back to her knees, her head and leg throbbing. She crawled over and retrieved her sword and dagger from the last ork. Not even bothering to wipe them off she stuck them in their sheaths. Then she crawled over to the orc with the dagger in its throat. He was still kneeling, his hands in the dirt as he growled. With a shaky hand he wrenched the dagger from his throat and with one last burst of energy he lunged at the girl. Startled, Andi rolled out of the way as the dagger struck the ground, buried to the hilt, next to her head. Blood shot from the orcÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s wound with each beat of his heart, and as he took his last gasp of air he cursed.

Andi sat up, her legs stretched in front of her. She had crawled behind a bush in case more orcs would come past. Pulling out a clean dagger and biting down on a scrap of leather she dug the bolt out of her leg. She didnÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t have time to clean and dress the wound; she needed to find Klaatu and Braandu. Andi took out the thin strip of leather that she normally used to pull her hair back, and tied it tightly around her upper thigh. She unrolled her cloak and cut a strip off of the bottom to wrap around the wound. She made sure that she had all of her things packed up. She quickly made one crude arrow and headed back towards the river, bow in hand. She would find where the moleman and his son got out of the water and walk towards the cave. It was her best bet for finding them.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#141

Reflexes were strong. Braandu cowered behind the trunk which stood on its end. It was a useless gesture, since the trunk was less than half his height. He stuck out. To emphasize the point, another volley of a half-dozen bolts shot out from the cave mouth. Three orcs could be seen in the opening. One moved outside and ran to one side of the opening and hid behind a large rock as he began to reload the crossbow he carried.

Two arrows bounced off the armoured boy, and two stuck into the trunk. Klaatu got the trunk open with some difficulty, and pulled out his helmet and slipped it on. Light and strong, it was formed of tempered alloy steel, with a high-carbon, lava-heated, oil-quenched hardened surface. Ordinary steel weapons and all lesser blades or points would glance off it as a rule. The thick padding, eschewed by most men or elves as being unsightly or making their heads look fat, would generally protect his head from heavy weapons such as maces or axes. He had tested many helmet designs over the years and observed the battlefield effects on those worn by others in severe combat conditions. This design was his best. It was superior to any he had seen. It was practically perfect!

He hated it. It interfered with his acute hearing and his nose was protected inside instead of being out where it belonged, where it could press into his favorite protective material -- the friendly, cool, moist earth.

Klaatu stood up and peered as well as he could through the thin eye slits. He shouted to Braandu through the perforated grid over his mouth, "Brandu! I told you Don't Be Afraid! We'll take care of them!"

He pulled a vial out of the trunk, and another from under his robe in a practiced manner. Quickly. Precisely. There they were... Atomized carbon dust, liquid nitrogen condensed from the atmosphere, simple potassium chloride. There was a freeze from the sudden exposure to low atmospheric pressure... Counteract and control that. He mixed the materials in the flasks, then held it for a moment. Energy flowed from his essence, through his hands, into the flasks in a flash! The flasks glowed with sudden heat, and surplus salts precipitated in a second.

Done.

Two flasks of white powder with swirling white gases. Potassium Cyanide. Sometimes used with care by alchemists to extract gold from base materials; on living, breathing organisms the effect would be straightforward:

Deadly.

He squeaked/yelled: "Braandu! Move up the hill! When they come out of the cave, HIT THEM!!"

The Rod of Lordly Might

#142

Klaatu had to move fast, before more of the enemy realized they faced only two opponents, and emerged from the cave. The gas would work best in a confined area.

Braandu's mind still swirled with fears, memories, and voices. But he looked at his father, and trusted as only a child can... "Father saved me from the Orcs and the Horrible Troll, and kept me alive" he thought.

So he put his shovel blade instinctively in front of his face and moved purposefully toward the cave entrance.

Klaatu walked behind the massive figure. A third crossbow volley shot out. Three bolts bounced off Braandu and one stuck into his boot, but he and his father moved forward and upwards like an irresistable force.

The alchemist poked out from the side of the much larger figure he was using as cover... and threw the first flask into the cave. At first, nothing happened. He threw the second into the dark crack.

There were orc curses, and coughing. More coughing. Then, three of the foul orcs burst from the cave opening grasping their throats and choking violently. Still grasping short iron swords they fell onto the ground and retched, as they writhed and squirmed, their lungs burning.

This was exactly what Braandu was waiting for. For Years... And Years! He strode forward with inexorable determination. He raised his shovel over his head, and brought the massive metal blade down Flat with primal satisfaction...

Smash.

Smash.

Smash.

The orc standing outside the cave fired a bolt at point-blank range into Braandu's figure and turned to flee. The rude iron projectile penetrated the steel chain mail into the boy's neck. Braandu grabbed it and yanked it out with distain and fury. Tossing it away, he raised his enormous digging tool overhead and swung it down with a force that made it ring against the helmet of the attacker. The orc was crushed like a rotten egg. He fell to the ground; his head and most of his chest sprayed out in an unrecognizable, bloody mess.

Holding his breath, Klaatu looked into the cave. The last two orcs were twitching on the floor, choking in their final throes of death. He moved back to comfort his son, who was covered with blood and gore. Braandu's shoulders heaved mighty, dry, soundless sobs of soul-crushing emotion. The mental force of it flowed outwards to his father like hurricane waves smashing on an unprotected island beach.

"There, there," intoned his father. "You did what you had to do. You saved both our lives. These creatures were Bad and deserved to die. You are a good boy, Braandu, A Good Boy".

The Rod of Lordly Might

#143

OOC: Sorry that I haven't posted for a while, i have been having some real life things that have taken up a lot of time. I'm still short on time so this will have to be a short post. sorry guys.

Tethon quickly followed, getting quickly on the horse and wrapping his arms around Alexia who now sat in front of him. "Where to my Lady"

The Rod of Lordly Might

#144

Klaatu looked around at the carnage, with disgust. Disgust, mostly at himself. He had protected his son from being faced with death for 42 years, before feeling forced out into the real world again. "Real World" he thought. "How can this be real? This is a nightmare." What would be the effect on Braandu? His development stunted for 42 years; locked in that form. Klaatu could only hope the killing of the orcs would be somehow cathartic, and relieve some of his son's gnawing frustration and unguided anger. He doubted it.

Braandu was in emotional shock. The aftermath of the battle seemed to pass in a haze. Father asked him to follow him to look for Andimia, and he went, clumping along behind, dragging his shovel. It scraped behind and occasionally caught on and ploughed up large rocks and small trees. Whatever.

Klaatu put his nose in the ground and sensed for the half-elf from time to time. he squeaked to his son.

Whatever.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#145

Klaatu squeaked to his son. He scrambled down to the half-elf. Andimia looked like she had been trampled by a herd of wild animals. And she clearly favored one leg.

In Common, he cried, "Hello! Are you all right, all right? We had some, some trouble." He waddled over to her. "That is an ugly wound, ugly. Let us go to the cave and I can help you. I have several excellent cleaners and infection-stoppers. That is one reason I am 320 years old, years old."

He noted her looking around carefully. "I already sensed, sensed for more orcs. There are none nearby, unless they are in the trees, the trees."

He turned up toward his son, who stood there looking slumped and sullen. Not to mention being caked from head to foot with blackening dollups of blood drying on his metallic form. Klaatu looked down at himself. His appearance wasn't much better off, thanks to his son's exuberance, and his ribs were starting to ache where the bolt had hit him squarely in the chest. They all could use some rehabilitation.

He said, "Why not let Braandu, Braandu carry your pack?" But Klaatu was thinking, "She fought that hard, and then came looking for us. Perhaps this is a mercenary with a code of honor. I hope so."

The Rod of Lordly Might

#146

Andimia was happy to see the Moleman and his son. The half-elf knew if she ran into more of them on her own that she was surely dead. She flashed a weak smile.
"It looks like we have a bit of company." Andi grinned "but it seems you've already met with them." She packed up the arrow and tied the bow to her pack and handed it to Braandu with a smile. "Thank you. It'll make things a bit easier on my leg."

The Rod of Lordly Might

#147

OOC: ItÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s alright, as you can see I havenÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t either! J Work is killing me overtime and getting up two hours early to come in everyday!

IC:
Alexia didnÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t say much. She wasnÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t in the mood for any type of conversation. ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…â€œWe have some catching up to do.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬? It was flat and emotionless. Looking out towards the forest she could get nothing by sight but the burning smell of sulfur rang through her nostrils.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#148

Klaatu led the way to the cave. He chattered to Andimia. "How many orcs, orcs did you encounter? Three? And you killed them all, them all? You are quite a remarkable young lady. Your leg... that's from a bolt? A bolt? I can help. Did you use my sword, my sword? Yes? How did you like it?" He was plainly nervous.

The reason became clear. They came up to the cave entrance, and the carnage was evident. Mostly dealt by an 8-year old, albeit one that was a bit larger and heavier than usual.

"Uh, I mean, we had some trouble. They were in our cave, our cave. The brutes attacked us. Without provocation, no provocation. I was injured, only a bit, no problem, no problem. And Braandu hates orcs, hates them." He looked up at Andimia with those glassy eyes. They showed nothing, but if facial expressions could be read on that furry face they would indicate a turmoil of emotion. "As do I. I'll tell you the story, the story later. You need to know some things about me, I suppose."

He stuck his head in the cave and took a sniff cautiously. The air was clear enough. Then he bent down to the two prostrate orcs within. One still breathed; ever so faintly. Klaatu placed a hand on his neck.

"So, my vicious friend." he muttered. "You are doomed but not yet dead." The mole man quietly reached into his robe, into his vest, next to the warmth of his own body, and took out a stone. It looked like yellow quartz. He placed it onto the orc's neck, just above the heavy leather armour that covered its chest, and placed his hand over it.

The orc breathed a final breath. The faint smell of burnt almonds was present in the air. Klaatu secretly palmed the stone, which now glowed with a pale green light, and slipped it back into his vest. He whispered to himself and to the stone in his own tongue,
Then he stood up. "Braandu! If you would, son, please bury the dead. Then we shall eat and rest!" His attitude seemed to have changed dramatically.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#149

"The sword worked well, very light and quick. The daggers were nice too." Andimia limped along side the moleman as they chatted, but she kept a dagger in her hand as they walked. She wasn't going to be caught off her guard again today. Her ears perked at the slightest sound. When they approached the cave Andimia cringed slightly at the massacre. She looked around trying to discern how many bodies lay strewn about.

Shifting all her weight to her right leg she glanced into the cave and thought that she saw Klaatu take something off of the orc. She scanned the bodies close to her but they were in pretty bad shape and whatever belongings they had were not worth reaching into the gore. She looked up at Braandu, the obvious artist of this bloody picture. She couldn't quite tell how or if all of it affected him. She looked back towards the moleman and wondered why she was still wandering with them. The risks were outweighing any potential profit and they would probably never catch up to the girl and her guard. She gritted her teeth as she gingerly touched the blood-soaked bandages. Looking up she furrowed her brow at the carnage, it reminded her of her village...

The door crashed open below her, she had been reading in the rafters again. The orcs surrounding her mother who shot them defiance and they took her down with a heavy club to the head. The blood pooled around her mother's crumpled body as lifeless eyes stared up at Andimia. The screams of her little sister. The flames. Andimia had to jump out of the window. The bodies in the street. Her father had tried to protect his village with the rest of the people. Their bodies littered the street. The orcs only took the cattle....

Andimia examined her wound again. She had come a long way from the little brat she was 48 years ago.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#150

Braandu dug a pit nearby. His enormous shovel stuck into the ground over and over again with a "shiiick". Each time, his long arms pressed down on the iron handle, and levered out another bushel of dirt, which was tossed to one side into an ever-growing pile. Occasionally, he had to step on the blade to crack through a rock with inhuman force. He didn't tire, and didn't show anything out of the ordinary.

Soon the hole was over half as deep as himself, wider, and longer than he was tall. It was another hole, one of thousands dug at his father's command. But this was different. The others had been dug in search of the minerals and fundimentals the mole man had been prospecting for. Dad could sniff them out, from deep within the earth. But this hole would hold the bodies of sentient creatures. Horrible ones, like the ones that made him this way. But they had been intelligent in their way, not like animal carcasses he had disposed of in the past. And he had killed them. It had been so easy.

He tried not to think about that. He could not feel anything when he picked up each body and dragged it to the hole and tossed it it. Sometimes he had to scoop up some stray body parts and shovel them in, too. Father stood over the hole and intoned some religious phrases that seemed completely inappropriate. Braandu thought he would feel satisfied by all this. But he felt empty. Even the voices were silent.

The last one in. Shovel the dirt back over them. Tamp it down with huge flat-bottomed boots. Back to father. Get the soap. Clump down to the river. Go in. Scrub, & scrub, & scrub.

Finally. A feeling! This felt good. He pulled his helmet off and rinsed it in the river, then put it on again over his featureless face that no one was allowed to see. The flowing current ran red.

The scrubbing was taking off the mess from his tunic, as well as past dirt. Under the water, the emblem of king Telemanxis was becoming apparent again. Why would such an ordinary task as washing feel good? He did not know, and would not think about that, either; but he let himself feel it. The current ran pink.

He recited his chart of fundimentals to himself, went over lessons of energies, and the thousands of interactions he was expected to learn as a fundimentalist. He tried to purge his mind as well as his body.

The current gradually cleared.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#151

Klaatu watched his son throughout the process and tried to feel what the boy was feeling. It was not encouraging, until Braandu began washing with the soap in the river. Braandu had made the soap some time ago, combined from several elements his father had separated out before. The boy had potential there. He had a good teacher, and his metallic form allowed him a unique connection with fundimentals and their energy connections. But he had no true sense of smell, and teaching him such things was difficult because of this and other differences.

Klaatu noted that his son was reciting his lessons while in the river. That was reassuring. Generations of Graandus had always turned to what they had been taught in times of difficulty. Braandu was instinctively connecting himself to a timeless tunnel that stretched back thousands of years. It was the Graandu way. It was his way. It would become his son's way.

Turning to the task at hand, Klaatu spoke to the half-elf, "Let's get cleaned up, cleaned up, eat, and heal." He went inside the cave and set his helmet on a rock. "I will activate the fountain and start a fire, a fire." He dropped to the ground and stuck his nose in the dirt of the cave floor. "There are rabbits, rabbits in the grassy area 100 paces, paces to the east. You may try want to shoot a couple for dinner, or I have jerky in the trunk. Your choice, your choice. I'd be happy to cook them, cook them to your taste. When Braandu comes back up we'll close up, close up the cave and be safe today."

The cave was smaller than the previous one. He went to the back of the cave and moved certain stones in a certain order. Clear water began to flow from a hole in the wall, into a large stone basin. When filled, it drained along a small channel dug through the solid rock floor and disappeared down a hole. He took a large drink, then ignited a hidden torch on the wall with his staff. "Foomp."

Then he ignited a very small forge in the back with another "Foomp." He went to the trunk and pulled out several items and took them into the cave. "Here are cleaner, and purifier for your wounds, your wounds. The latter will, shall we say? sting a bit, but it will eliminate infection, infection. You will heal fast, you will see." Pulling off his heavy robe, he dunked it in the water repeatedly, using some of the soap. It came clean quickly, and he put it back on. Before closing it up, he opened his vest and felt around his short gray fur at the very tender spots inside. "That one will certainly hurt for a few days" he thought. He dabbed on the purifier and suppressed a squeak from the sting... but which followed with a comforting warmth as he adjusted constituent fundimentals with his own body's chemistry to start healing.

"Your turn!" he said. "Then, when we've eaten and we are safe, safe as we can be here, then let's talk. If you don't mind, don't mind, I'd like to know more about you, my friend. Tonight we'll leave at dark, at dark to go to my cousin's home. I need to speak to him."

He looked at her as he buttoned up his robe. "I was, I was not expecting orcs here. You know as well as I do that they don't usually range this far south. Thank you for coming this far with us."

The Rod of Lordly Might

#152

After moments of looking around there came something catching her attention. A piece of parchment! Sighing, she contemplated whether it be good or whether it be bad. ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…â€œStop.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬? With a sense of fatigue another sense tingled in her lower abdomen. Sliding off the horse, she walked over to the parchment; disgusted with the scent of carcass, picked up the blood-splattered paper and walked quickly back towards the horse. A slight pink of her cheeks gave her a nauseous feeling from the deadsÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢ smell.

Once placed in front of her guard, she burrowed herself calmly between his shoulders. Opening the letter she read it carefully- placed in an old riddle. Smelling the note, she noted the ink was entirely different. It was a technique created years ago by accident, secretly given when times were hard. Finally out of thought, she put it away and would wait until night.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#153

Tethon Watched over her shoulder as she read the note, his head almost resting on her left shoulder as he did so, making him very aware of a small hole that was all that was left of the arrow wound. Tethon read the note as quickly as possible, but he only managed to half finish before Alexia brought the parchment to her nose, and what he had read had not made much sense to him.

As the horse continued foreward, Tethon started rummaging through his pack and produced some dried meat, and some hard bread. He had some better stores of food, but there was no telling how far they would be riding, and stopping to hunt food did not seem like a particularily good idea.

"Here, eat this" he said holding the food out to her "you will need your strength, espescially after not sleeping last night." Surely she was tired. She had not slept at all last night. It was almost a surprise that she did not start dozing off to the steady clop of horse-shoes on dirt.

It was good that she was not riding side-saddle like most ladies did. In fact, he realized that her dress was split for riding. It was actually a wonder he had not noticed before.

Tethon continued to keep watch on the surrounding forest for anything unusual. His eyes darted, even if his body was calm and relaxed.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#154

Sighing she declined the food since her stomach didnÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t take kindly to anything at this time. ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…â€œHow could anybody get a hold of that ink? Father wouldnÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t have given it to himÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã‚Â¦yet the body itself had no head.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬? Frowning, Alexia quickly decided it best to leave the situation alone until more evidence would be matched. For now the riddle repeated itself in her mind. More information would come when the paper was blue and the letters were silver.

After silent yawns in her mind and the endless take of horseshoes clopping and small grunts the horse made. Yet, something told her to stay awake, it was quiet, distant and echoed in the back of her mind. A small grin escaped when she looked up to see a slight frown of thought from Tethon. ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…â€œApparently someone was ease dropping- in my case, read dropping.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬? Smiling she waved her hand in the air, pointed towards the south. ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…â€œIÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢ll tell you in time, but we must go back to the mole-man. There is something I wish to ask him.ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬?

Depending on the situation, she thought it best to let go of the sorrow. It wasnÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t anybodyÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s fault and she wasnÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t going to blame herself. Still, there were moments and memories of bonfires and getting into trouble were worth a crime unseen. Curiosity came into effect as the same tree-types were passed and the same speed seemed to flow gently. Nothing was herd but the daily gossip of the birds and stories of the wind. All before she dozed off silently.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#155

Braandu clambered up the slope, clean as a fish. He shut the trunk, slung it over his shoulder, and took it into the cave. Then he opened it and set out a few items. Klaatu gave his large son some instructions, then chattered a bit to Andimia, in Common, as he pulled strips of meat out of the trunk. After soaking them in water "to remove the excess salts" as he put it, he warmed them up in a clever rack that pulled down over the fire. The delicious smell of sizzling bacon filled the cave, but was vented out overhead as before.

"First things first. Tactics. Tactics. At the risk of sounding obvious, remember that my sword is too light and sharp to be much good for normal blocking. It can cut clean through lesser weapons, causing you to be hit by the shards, the shards. Of course, your enemy may be surprised to find his best armour to be useless. ...Oh... I see you already discovered that. Excellent, excellent."

"Practice with the arrow points when you can. It will be easier for you to recover them, recover them if you know where they're capable of going. I don't have many more of them, and the dense mineral is mined out, mined out at this location. Here is a sintered-diamond hone I made that you can use to sharpen the blades, the blades or the arrowheads if they get damaged. Nothing else can be used to put an edge back on." He gave her a small flat piece of metal that glistened with thousands of tiny rainbow points.

"If we encounter orcs again, or other strong groups of enemies, don't expect me to fight to the last, the last breath. I am not a coward, but I am not a fighter, either. My specialty has been equipping, equipping others to do their best in battle. So expect me to dig in and prepare a counterstrike if necessary. Good fundimentalism takes, shall we say, a bit, a bit of time. There is no shame if you run, you run. Braandu will probably walk away from battle, and if anyone tries to stop him, so much the worse, the worse for them." He paused. "It was not my intention to have him kill orcs" (at this he looked at his son who was sharpening his shovel with a file) "but I suppose he has to grow up a bit more every day."

Returning to his little speech, "If you run, which is well, please keep an eye on Braandu. He is only 8, only 8 after all. He cannot speak, but he hears quite well, and can see in some surprising ways, surprising. Talk to him, and feel free to play with him... if you can find any way to do that without injury... To you, I mean."

"If you get separated from me, stay near to Braandu and I will find him, or vice versa, vice versa. He and I feel each other." Reaching into a pocket in his vest, he gave Andimia a plain looking piece of rock.

"This is a Cersi stone. It contains my essence, since I have carried it for a time. Keep it with you. This is important... (he looked directly at her face with the glassy spectacles) Keep it warm, on your person, your person. If it gets cold it will be useless. If you need me to come quickly, swallow it and it will become even warmer and I will know that you need help. I will come as soon as possible. You should know, should know that I also gave one to that Elf-Girl we met, the one with the wounded shoulder. I plan to check up on her later, after we've gone to Brendolo's house. I hope her companion is all right."

"Finally, I don't wish to sound pretentious, but don't play with my belongings, my belongings, like my staff and such. They are sometimes not, not what they seem. You could get hurt."

"I apologize for talking so much, but it is our way to be prepared, prepared as best we can. 'Make Ready The Land When War Is At Hand'."

He picked up several deliciously thick pieces of bacon from the fire rack and put them on thin metal plates. "But now, dinner is at hand! You look hungry, young lady. I expect these will warm your center. If you'll allow me later on, I will help you rebalance your fundimentals and you will heal all the faster, the faster."

Without further chatter, he started chewing on one of the crispy strips of salted venison with obvious glee.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#156

Alexia jumped smacking her forehead. ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…â€œIÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢m an idiot!ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬? Alexia sat up straight and dug through her pouches. Taking a smaller one in particular that was touching her skin, she rubbed it with her hands feeling the warmth of her body flow into her hands and the stone. His thoughts came in her mind as she frowned- she wasnÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢t in dire need of his assistance. Putting the stone away back in its silk pouch and then touching her skin, Alexia exhaled without thought or explanation as to why she just jumped up from her sleep.

Looking up at the sky she grunted, settling her body back in between TethonÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s shoulders- a frown complementing her mood and thought.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#157

Klaatu paused in mid-bite... "" he felt within.

A moment passed. The feeling faded. Gone. "" he thought.

Needle-sharp teeth gleaming, he went back to stuffing the flavorful roasted jerky into his face.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#158

Andimia's ears perked up at the mention of the girl, but then looked a bit uncertainly at the stone. The half-elf nodded slowly as she took the stone and tucked it into a small pocket inside her leathers; right over her heart. It was one of many, normally used for holding coins.
She laughed at the mention of keeping away from his things. "Don't worry, I've learned to be careful of staffs and wands a long time ago." Andimia grinned as she took a slice of bacon and chewed it, happy to have warm food for once. "After we eat i'm going to the river and clean my leg off." Her ragged bandages had soaked through and streams of blood had dried upon her leg. "I could do with a good bath." she mused as she tugged at one of her brown curls. "But the last thing I need is for a troupe of orcs to stumble upon me while i'm naked and unarmed, so I guess that can wait a few more days." she cringed.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#159

Braandu stumped over to the two. He "looked" at his father closely. Klaatu stroked the sturdy metallic hip that stood next to him in a fatherly way.

"" squeaked the mole-man, to his son. Then, in Common, "Andimia, Braandu volunteers to go with you, with you while you clean up. He promises not to look if you wish to bathe. He says he's a good guard, which is quite true, quite true. And you can trust him with your life." He laughed. "I think he really likes you!"

Continuing in Common, "Braandu, I do believe you are blushing!" He reached up and slapped the armoured figure on the waist. "Do you also turn red, turn red?" he said as he teased his son.

Embarrassed, the boy picked up his shovel and stumped outside and "stood guard" as the morning sun rose into the sky.

The Rod of Lordly Might

#160

Andimia paused mid-chew and looked from Klaatu to Braandu as he stood at the cave entrance and back again. She nodded as she continued chewing. "That would probably be best. There could be more patrolling the area and I'm not sure that I'd be able to survive another battle alone." She finished her bacon and pulled her pack over, rummaging through its contents. Frowning she looked up at Klaatu. "You wouldn't happen to have any soap would you?"