If it wasn't obvious from the story description, this is an alternate universe story to MOTB, though I suppose you could pretend MOTB takes place before the first word of chapter 1. I wanted to figure out how the characters and their subplots got so bad and never got resolved.

Also since this is a bit outre combination, the "M" rating, though its pretty mild. This particular story is dedicated to all of the rest of us who don't play bards, rangers, or paladins.

Comments/reviews welcome.

X X X

Parts Unknown - - -

--Knight Commander

I was falling, with that sickening pit in my stomach, it was getting almost painful as my body realized that I hadn't yet reached ground. I'd fallen tens of feet before, and survived, but I had already lost count twice. Falling this long was probably going to kill me, but I was too tired and heart-sore to really care that much. I couldn't really see anything, except for an occasional flash of light, reminding me of the pulses of heat and light when I went through the dying gateway underground. I wasn't sure if my eyes were still working, or if I'd been blinded from the gate and its clearly unstable energies. When I waved a hand in front of my face, I thought I had seen a silhouette, briefly against a distant flash, but I could have been imagining it.

At least I could still move my arm. I ached all over, but everything was still there. I still seemed to have most of my combat equipment: armor, sword, daggers... only a few sticky spots reminded me that I had been in lethal combat all too recently. The damn shard sword was gone, and good riddance. When I dug in my bag I found one last healing potion, and downed it. The warmth told me that at least some magics worked, wherever "here" was.

Still, there was no change in what I could see, so I could hope the flashes meant I wasn't blinded.

"Guys? Elanee? Casavir?" I called cautiously.

I had to give it a try, even though I was pretty sure that no one else had come through that gate with me to this place. As a group, I couldn't keep them this quiet, this long, without a stick. I hoped they made it somewhere more hospitable than this. Whatever happened to them, I couldn't do anything about it.

I'd heard rumors about planar gates, and once I'd tried to pick Sand's brain about them. But those few tidbits didn't give me much to work with. Whatever that gate was intended for, it may have been broken. Or it broke from the battle. Or, more likely, I was either missing the proper portal key or was not of the preferred ethos, cult, or, for all I knew, shoe size. I somehow ended up being a generalist, a jack of all trades with a pointy stick, I'd counted on Sand or Zhjaeve for that kind of specialized knowledge.

I intended to take care of that ignorance later, I didn't want to be ignorant, just because I could swing a sword.

Even when I first arrived here, I didn't see anything resembling the gate I gone through. Maybe I'd been missing the secret ring.

My stomach was still saying I was falling. I tried to will flight upward, as if I was flying through magic, but nothing seemed to change. I was starting to believe I wasn't going to be going splat. If only I could convince my painful stomach as easily. I also could just be hungry.

I didn't think I had much food with me. I started digging through all my pockets and pouches in hopes of finding something. I found some forgotten jerky, and a good sized pouch of nut mix that Grobnar had made. It hadn't appealed at the time, but I was hungry enough now, to not care how it tasted. I ate slowly, being especially careful about the water in my skin. I don't know how long it would have to last.

I thought back to our confrontation with that dangerous self-declared "king", his tale had been a bit pathetic. His was a story that convinced me that Daeghun taught me the truth, in the cycles of living. Pets, people, trees, empires were alike. All had their time, which eventually faded. Not that you shouldn't fight for loved ones or for a cause, but I didn't think unmaking your soul like that had value. For what you were fighting to preserve, or yourself. And then, who were you when you met the gods? At the end, he had become far less than a puppet for the fears of his people. His goal would not have done one thing to help the descendants of his people, it would have destroyed them.

He was willing to do all the wrong things, for what seemed to be the right reasons, once. But he bought the idea that the ends justified the means, that self destruction, and then the destruction of others, of innocents could somehow bring about something good. The fool.

Jerro seemed to have the same problem, I thought he knew where he was going when he died. I never liked him, and was feeling a little guilty at how much I was glad he died. It had been almost a shock that he died first, as I expected others of us to be more tempting targets. Even if I detested his choices, I could respect that he seemed to have accepted the fate of his soul, when the only question was which of the lower planes would get him. But it was only an idle thought, as I felt such a burning joy when he died.

And perhaps sadder than these ancients, were some of my friends, who, through fear or some passing madness, thought the siding with that king would profit them. That, I never understood. While I didn't have the allegiance to law that Casavir had or the passionate allegiance to nature's immanence as Elanee, evil's world was unacceptable. Evil tyrants or undead are not known for their generous pensions. And Bishop... I hope he survived his escape, and learned something.

Even the twit Qara, who never seemed to grasp that there was always someone bigger and tougher than you. You'd think her near death in all those battles might have been a hint that she needed to have better strategy and have buddies to watch her back. She always blamed others instead of her own poor choices. So she chose her final fate, and what a waste it was.

My snack was gone, but my stomach was still complaining about my falling. Time passed here. You can't travel by mental will power. I didn't see any preponderance of a particular element. No infinite walled city, burks, or gods in sight. I was just about at the end of my scanty knowledge. I guessed it may be some kind of pocket plane. But I couldn't do much with that guess, my tools were swords and picks.

Having decided that, I was wondering what to do now. Rest would probably be a good idea. It would be sad if I missed my chance because I was hallucinating from lack of sleep. I was exhausted, but still far too restless from all the events of the day.

Prayer seemed to be one of the few things I could do here. While I wasn't dedicated to one god like Elanee or Casavir, I did have some favorites such as Selune, Tymora, and Waukeen. I admired Tyr and Torm, but their rules were often too confining when compassion would better serve. But a heartfelt plea went out to all I honored.

x x x

It took me a while to convince my stomach that I wasn't really falling, long enough to let me to sleep. The next seeming morning, I rationed out a bit more of my food. I tried to exercise. I felt a bit more limber, but I also felt silly running in what felt to be mid-air, like some kind of stage farce from Cormyr. Other exercises left me feeling dizzy, like I was spinning vertically. I must have stopped spinning, as I didn't want to retch anymore, but I no longer knew which way was up.

I spent most of my day experimenting with some of my magic. Some items worked, some didn't. A light spell from my chalice seemed to provide only a brief lifting of the darkness, I was more in an incredibly dark fog where I could almost make out my knees. Minor magics seemed to be least affected, and summonings from scrolls just plain didn't work. I wasn't quite sure if the Illefarn blessings worked at all. Combat magics seemed a waste.

Once that grew boring, I stopped experimenting, as I might need the magic whenever the situation changed. Adventurers' lives were strange enough, I was sure something would happen. I prayed for it.

Passing through the gate after the shadowking's death, had been painful. I wondered how it had affected the others, I hoped no one died from it, as Zjhaeve, Khelgar, and not surprisingly, Casavir had been hurt the most. Worrying about them seemed wasteful, but I wasn't doing anything more important. And it filled some time.

I was determined, though, to keep alert. Until something turned up.

Bored, I thought about my life. I was still young, but I would not need the distraction to have it flash before my eyes in combat. There were some things I would have done differently. Many conversations, I wished I could have come up with better words at the time. I spent time considering other things I could have said, as I waited. Perhaps a club or a big bucket of cold water would have worked with the boys... Then I realized how strange it was that I thought of them like that, they were both older than me by years.

This occupied me into the next day, when I finished the last of my food and practiced my spinning. I only had enough water for another day or so, even at these levels, and I was getting worried that I'd become this mummified husk floating in this plane. Such a cheerful thought to go to sleep to.

The next day, I saw something with tentacles at some distance, but wasn't sure if I wanted to attract its attention. I saw several more together the next day. It became academic later as they had noticed me, and they were coming my way.

x - x

A/N: Many thanks for my beta reader, who was graceful enough to help me with some very embarrassing errors in a story that has been posted this long. Any further errors are all still mine.