Chapter One: A Sweet Meadley
The Wheel of Cheese turns, and ages come and pass, leaving fine cheeses that become legendary. Legends fade to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the third age by some, an Age yet to come, an age long pass, a wind carrying the pungent scent of asiago rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Cheese. But it was a beginning.
Down in the Valley of Spirits, where the finest breweries existed, Randy al'Hoar was unusually intoxicated, even for his usual self. Stumbling drunkenly out of his bed, flagon of mead in one hand, pair of used woman's panties in the other, Randy let out a rather resplendent belch. Satisfied, he dropped the panties onto the floor and reached under his wifebeater to scratch his hairy chest, wincing slightly as he irritated the scratch marks on his left pec.
Foggy images from last night swam through his pounding head. A woman. No, two. Perhaps even a man. Randy smacked the side of his head, hoping to clear the haze in his head. When that didn't work—which puzzled our hero—he took a swig of mead, letting the liquid slosh down his chin and run in rivulets down his stained wifebeater. Much better. The fog magically lifted and he now remembered every sordid detail that happened.
Gitara Moroso, Aes Iago of the Blue Cheese, had invited herself over for some fun, compelled by a Foretelling. Randy smiled to himself. Everyone knew her Foretellings were a pretense for her to visit young, attractive men in the city. Gitara had shown up at his door, two flagons of mead pressed against her heaving bosom, a wicked smile plastered on her face. He silently accepted her offerings with a lewd smile of his own.
As they were about to retreat into his love shack, S'Gar-te'Ats, a dairy maid from yonder who preferred to be called the exotic name of 'Sally', ran towards him, crying for him to stop. Her bosom, too, was heaving; the cage of her corset shuddered with the weight of her udders. "Randy," she cried, "You forgot to pick up your milk today." As if to prove her point, she dangled a jug of milk in her hands. "Papa told me to deliver it to you personally, lest you forget again. He always said nothing clears the mind better after a night o' fine spirits and debauchery than fresh milk from Moodragoran. "
"Why, thank you kindly, Sally. Send your pa my thanks." He was about to wave goodbye to Sally when Gitara grabbed the sleeve of his bathrobe and whispered sweetly, "Why turn down such a golden opportunity? The more the merrier." And since Randy always had a hard time saying no, he invited both women back into his abode.
The mead was poured in streams down everyone's throats, splashing on exposed bosoms and buttocks everywhere (don't ask how), and then the bawdy games began, initiated, as always, by Gitara, who made up the rules and implemented them herself. These games were infamous, their exact rules often uttered in hush-hush to the uninitiated, often with an aura of scandalous mystery surrounding them. They were the fantasies that prepubescent boys could only conjure under the influence of the strongest drink, but to Randy, it was simply another night at the bar.
After a particularly exhausting round that left Randy absolutely breathless and Sally unconscious in the snow outside (though, in retrospect, it might have been the mead that did it), Gitara smiled slyly at him and attempted to reignite the flames of excitement in him again. When it became obvious to both of them that it was working, and working well, she said, "He is born again! I feel him! The Dragon takes his first breath on the slope of Dragonmount!" She winked at him, doubling her efforts until he gave a cry of pleasure. "He is coming! He is coming! Light help us! Light help the world! He lies in the snow and cries like the thunder! He burns like the sun!"
"Oh, Gitara…" gasped Randy after he had had a moment to recover. "That was… that was the best game of Dungeons and Dragons I've ever played!"
Randy smiled to himself as he fully regained last night's memory. It was a good night indeed. And surely, more would come as the Great Cheese Festival approached.