Author's Note:

My thanks to these people who reviewed and in doing so made this chapter:

Vengeous

(Long time supporter, check his stories)

Pyro159

(Nice long review, saw the story better than I did myself. Also, I saw you didn't want him to head straight into the Underland. Frankly I agreed, but already wrote a large portion of this chapter. Taking in mind your comment, I took care to...change some factors.)

Ssi'ruuk

(Thanks for the correction!)

HumanHedgehog

(Made me laugh too)

MyName

(What about his friend?)

A happy reader

(Aye, I agree better than the last story)

Thanks to all these people and more who I know will continue to support this story.

Here we go!

It was a long drive to New York City, nearly seven hours. The whole time Gregor thought about his game plan. First things first, he would drive to the nearest department store to Central Park. He already had a ton of batteries, some flashlights, and a few knives, but he needed a food supply. Once he had food he would buy a backpack to hold his equipment as he made his way to Regalia, the human city of the Underland. He debated whether or not to stop by and say hello to his old neighbor Mrs. Cormaci but decided against it, he wanted to be back in his real home as soon as possible.

Gregor was currently taking the exit that would bring him into the city when he let his feelings of doubt creep in. The past few years he made sure to keep these thoughts at bay, but now when he was so close, he couldn't control them. What if Regalia wasn't there? If the entire thing got destroyed? It was completely possible, because the underlanders were such a war-like people. Always at war, with the gnawers when he was there, and possibly still. When he left, Queen Luxa had established a peace between the gnawers and humans, but he did not know if the the peace would hold. He tried to push these thoughts away as he pulled into a parking spot, but to no avail. What if the Underland's caves collapsed on the people? That would have been catastrophic, so many dead! But he knew this wasn't possible, otherwise New York City would have sunken into the earth's floor.

He hopped out of the car and felt the cold autumn breeze ruffle his thick black hair. He ran his hand back through his locks and proceeded into the store.

Gregor walked out of the building with a purpose. He had managed to buy everything he needed, and for cheap too. Although money didn't matter to him anymore, he was leaving this world behind. He hopped back into the car and revved the engine, pulling out he realized just how close he was to his long ago home.

Gregor arrived in Central Park in twenty five minutes. He parked his car in a secluded alley and walked towards the stone he had thought about so often. He looked around to see if anyone was about, and was glad to see that the park was empty. Gregor lifter up the heavy rock slightly, and then pushed it aside revealing the Underland entrance. He crawled down into the darkness, pulling the rock back over the hole above him. His backpack was a black nylon hiking pack, and contained many batteries and spare flashlights. Not to mention a few rolls of duct tape. He had a waterproof flashlight taped to his right arm, a technique he learned during his warrior years in the land down under. Tied to his left hip was the foot long hunting dagger that had been stored in his supply chest. It was a shoddy little tool, but it would do its' intended purpose; to kill. In his pack was also his pocket knife, which was actually a multi tool complete with the knife, a saw, a screwdriver, some scissors, and for some reason a corkscrew.

Gregor sighed and then began his steady march into the darkness, following the cemented stone stairs that gradually turned into cold hard rock. He remembered the way, he had traveled this path enough times to end up forgetting when it mattered most.

Gregor soon reached the ledge where this cavern hung above the waterway; the Underland version of an ocean. A swirling rapid ocean full of whirlpools and evil sea monsters. Gregor had no immediate plans to go for a swim, but it might end up being his only option. He would have risked the entrance in his old apartment, but he had no way of knowing whether or not the currents were in full effect. Also, he didn't know how to get into the building without raising suspicion, as he wouldn't be leaving through any main entrances.

And that's when he heard it, a slight snicker from behind. Gregor reacted quickly, spinning around to face the threat, but he was still to slow. Whatever was behind him shoved him backwards, sending him flailing to the dark waters below. The fall seemed to take forever, even though in reality it was only a few seconds. And then he hit the churning waters, and everything went black.

His eyelids snapped open, and then shut again as the light burned him. He tried to reopen his eyes, this time slowly. As his eyes adjusted, his surroundings slowly came into focus. He was lying down on a bed in a small room that looked like it might have belonged to a young child. There were no windows, only one doorway that led to the stone hallway outside. Next to the door his belongings were piled, and beside him was a note left on a stack of fresh clothing.

Dear Overlander,

We saw you fall from the air, and we just expected that your bond would swing by to save you, so we did not worry. We were wrong and hereby apologize for our mistake. You washed ashore and we were surprised to see you were an Overlander! We took you in and brought you to our old son's room, which he slept in before he drowned so long ago. We tended to your injuries, as I am sure you noticed the bandaging over your body. You broke three bones in your back, and your right arm. That was quite a fall you took, and you are very lucky to have survived it.

-Your Hosts, Mr and Mrs, Charleston

The handwriting was somewhat sloppy, as if written by a frail hand. He looked down at his body, and sure enough he was covered in bandages. Sighing he sat up, and then fell back again from the pain. He tried twice more and then blacked out from pain. He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew an elderly man and woman were by his side attempting to feed him some porridge. He obliged by slightly opening his mouth and let himself be fed like the little boy he felt like.

"Who...who are you?" Gregor groaned out, "And thank you for helping me" he added. The old couple smiled, and the man responded, "We are just simple old fishing folk who decided to help out a young boy in need." Now Gregor understood, when he was knocked down into the waters, this silver haired and violet eyed man must have seen him and come to his aid. His partner had similar features, although her hair was longer and her eyes had a deeper look of understanding and wisdom than the old man's eyes, which were young and full of fun and adventure. Gregor nodded his consent and tried yet again to sit up, some of his strength had returned, but still it was a minimal amount compared to his previous energy.

"How long was I out?" He tried, his voice forced.

"Nigh on your fifth night you are." The woman said, her voice surprisingly soft. The man besides her grunted his confirmation, and that is what set him off.

The memories of his time before the fall made him shiver. Leaving his family, the drive to New York, the creature who was lurking behind him in the passage above the waterway, and then the brief pain when he hit the water.

With a grunt, Gregor pushed himself to his feet. The two elders starred in open-mouthed shock at his accomplishment.

"You must have an urgent cause, or immense strength to stand after such an incident, even I in my younger days would not have been able to accomplish that feat without so much as a wince as you did." The old man said, in surprise.

"A little bit of both, good man." Came Gregor's pained reply. He stumbled to his feet, and with a start realized that all his gear was naught to be found.

Your equipment could not be found, and for that we apologize." Said the man, standing. "Even so, we took some time to replace what you may of had. He gestured to the wall on his right, where he saw a rusty old sword, a leather pack and many empty canteens. Another item sat there, a wooden staff that would work as both a walking stick as it would crutches. This was a true gift as wood was scarce in the Underland since the only tree-bearing land was destroyed by Hamnet, Luxa's uncle, so long ago.

The gear was no hw here near what he had had on his pack, as that would have been inaccessible to underlanders, but these would serve him well. However a problem still existed, actually more than one. First, he had no food, and these people seemed poor enough as it was, and he had no desire to take their food. Another problem was that he had no clue where to find Regalia. He supposed he could just follow the Waterway upstream, but there were many unknown terrors that lay in wait there, and despite his determination, Gregor had no wish to confront them.

"You must eat, your strength will return in time, Overlander." The woman's use of the word Overlander startled him, he had not been called so in many years. He must have shown some form of uneasiness or shock because the woman asked how he was.

"Fine...fine. I am fine thank you, it has just been many years since I was last called that name, and it brought back memories I have kept buried throughout my...absence."

A pure look of absolute shock, recognition, disbelief and relief showed upon both of their faces. It was then Gregor realized the full implications of what he had just said. During his time in the Underland, and only two Overlanders had ever been to the Underland and lived; the Warrior and the Warrior's father. Considering his young appearance, he could only be one of them: the Warrior himself.

"Aye, it is me. The Warrior you may know me by, but please, call me Gregor." He said, in response to the shock on the older people's faces. "Now please, may I obtain food and water? Also instructions on how to reach Regalia from here, I do not know the way." Gregor abandoned his earlier goal not to take from these people, the relief that had been in their eyes proved to him that something was yet again afoot in the Underland, something dire enough that these people thought he would be able to amend. The Charlestons, as was their name, nodded in stunned obligation, rising and scurrying out the door to do his bidding. It occurred to him that he could very easily command anything from many people in the Underland, and they would oblige. He shuddered and pushed the thought from his brain, he did not want to have such power, and yet he did. He bared many expectations of random everyday people, many higher then he thought were necessary. They entrusted their hope, trust and respect in him. Or at least he used too, but the looks of awe in the two elder's eyes told him otherwise, he was still talked about in the Underland, perhaps even a legend.

Gregor walked over to the pile of equipment, and reached for the blade. He drew it from its sheath, a slight ring echoing about the small chamber room. The blade was not a masterpiece, it was more of a fire poker than a weapon, but in the right hands it would still cause mass destruction. The right hands. A rager's hands. His hands.