The Dungeoneers and the associated setting is the product of a tabletop roleplaying campaign created and managed by Tim Richey. These stories are based on that campaign and were written at the behest of both Tim and the players involved.

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Moira found herself in a dark tunnel. She shook her head as she tried to steady herself. She had taken the brunt of the blast and had barely kept a grip on her axe. She was broken out of the haze by the sound of a woman screaming.

Throwing caution aside, Moira rushed off in the direction of the noise. It didn't take her long to find the source. She stepped into a small chamber where two dwarves wearing ritualistic shrouds with odd markings were bearing down on a strange but fierce looking creature that stood between them and a dwarven woman great with child. One of the attackers was bound in heavy armor while the other was dressed in robes and brandished an evil looking knife.

Moira pounced on the warrior, giving him a glancing blow to the side. He whirled on her and took a swing with his sword, but Moira easily ducked away from it. The furry animal used the distraction to leap on the other dwarf, sinking its jaw into his arm. The priest screamed and began slashing at it with his knife while trying to beat it against the wall. Moira squared off against the fighter and they both raised their weapons to strike. She was faster and buried her axe deep into his chest. He stared at her as the life drained out of him and she brutally yanked her axe away.

The animal attacking the priest fell to the floor and the pregnant dwarf ran to it. Moira charged at the priest, and he held up his arms to ward her away. She was not deterred and she swung twice, leaving the dwarf on the floor in pieces. With the threat removed, she moved to the woman. "Are ye hurt?" she asked.

The woman was grief-stricken, cradling the limp body of the animal. "I am... unharmed," she whispered, "But could you help my bury my friend?"

"Of course," Moira said sympathetically, and they worked together to dig a hole to put it in. "Who were they?" Moira asked.

"Ghosts," the woman said cryptically. "From a past I'd hoped to forget."

Moira chewed that for a bit, but decided to leave it alone. "I know what it's like to lose a friend like this," she said. "My name's Moira. What's yer's?"

"Mary," she said quietly. "Mary Redforge."

Moira froze. That was impossible! "Ye can't be!" she said. "That's my ma's name, but she's..." she caught herself from saying 'dead' and concluded with, "...married to Duncan Redforge."

Mary's eyes softened and she looked at Moira with a new understanding. "I see..." she said. She gave her belly a gentle pat and said, "And you're-"

The surroundings faded away, turning black...

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Khana found herself in a deep wood. She heard an enraged roar behind her, and spun to see an elven woman in a pitched battle against a severely wounded dragon. The warrior was skilled, perhaps even a Bladesinger, but she was also in an advanced state of pregnancy and was having trouble holding the dragon at bay. Without hesitation Khana dove into the fray.

Khana's blades spun like a whirlwind, dancing to and fro with deadly speed. She had inherited the slender swords from her uncle and they had always served her well. Something was wrong, however. This seemed familiar. Not something she remembered personally, but still, it struck memories. The dragon stepped back at the sudden appearance of a second opponent, but Khana pressed forward, her swords slicing through the dragon's scales and digging into its belly. It roared in anger and attempted to snap her in half with its massive jaws. She stepped aside and ducked under the claw swipe that followed.

The dragon began to grow sluggish, and the two women coordinated their final blow. Thrusting together, they drove their swords deep into the monster, and it roared in anguish. The memories began to grow clearer, and Khana suddenly realized what this was. Her mother, she was fighting alongside her mother on the last day of her life and the first day of her own. Somehow she had been knocked through time and she grew worried that she might be altering it, but it was too late if she had. At that final strike, They quickly pulled away as the beast stumbled and fell, crashing to the earth so hard the ground shook. It let out one last groan and finally fell silent.

With the dragon defeated, Khana turned to her mother, looking upon her for the first time, and simply stared for a bit. Then her sense returned to her and she casually moved her swords out of view before her mother recognized them. "Are you all right?" she asked.

The elven warrior panted with exhaustion, but said, "I will be fine. Thank you for your timely arrival." She suddenly cried out and clutched herself. "My baby is coming. I must return to the village."

"I will help you," Khana said, reaching for her.

"No!" she said. "Please! I can make it, but you must help my husband! He fell back there but he may yet live. Go and help him, please. I can't bear to lose him!"

Khana knew from the stories that her father was already dead, but nodded to her mother. "Yes, Bladesinger," she said, using the formal title as a show of respect, and left her. She knew her mother would be found by a search party, and give birth here in these woods. She also knew it would kill her, but there was nothing she could do about it. She followed the path of destruction the dragon had left until she found a spot that was wrecked beyond even what she had already seen.

Splinters and bare stumps littered the area, and in the center lay the unmoving figure of her father. He was a mess of claw and bite marks, but from the amount of blood on the sword at his side, he had done more than his share of damage in return. Khana knelt at his side and began to offer his last rites when the surroundings faded away, turning black...

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Tucker found himself in a poorly lit dungeon. Tucker sucked in his breath as unwelcome memories flooded him. This place... His hands clenched into fists, but he cautiously stayed within the shadows in the chamber. He was standing behind a huge gilded cage of strong, thick iron, and inside were his crewmates from that fateful day he had escaped from Redrum's keep.

The men spoke amongst themselves in fearful tones as they watched the orcs in the chamber devour the First Mate of their ship. Tucker furrowed his brow. He didn't remember his shipmates being so scared. Then he managed to sort through the men and catch sight of his younger self. Huddled in the center, the teen was seething, grinding his teeth and completely self absorbed in his own sullen rage. That explained it, he didn't remember because he hadn't noticed it the first time. He moved closer to the cage and whispered to one of the men, deepening his voice so it would not be recognized.

"Don't say anything. I'm here to help. Take these and pass them along." He started giving the man his throwing knives, keeping a few for his own use.

"Jedidiah did this to you. He's running off like a coward right now." He regretted having to stretch the truth now that he knew the full story and had forgiven his brother, but he needed to get these men angry enough to fight. It was working, as they began grumbling to each other and fingering their blades.

"Your only chance is to rush them when they come to get another of you. Take them by surprise and try to overwhelm them," Every single one of these men were going to die. He had been the only one who survived this day, and it hurt to give the men false hope. "That Tucker boy is young and headstrong. He'll only get in the way. Tell him to get out and find his brother." The men closest to him nodded and the wait began for the orcs to open the cage door.

The wait was not long, and no sooner had the key turned than the men surged forward, slashing at their captors and orc blood flew freely. Tucker jumped into the fray as well, and when he saw his younger self dash for the exit he followed. Two orcs caught sight of him and also gave chase. They were catching up to the young Tucker and paying no mind to the other. He pulled two throwing knives and let them fly. They sailed true and caught each orc in the back just before they could swing. The orcs fell and his younger self finished his escape. Tucker gave a victorious grunt and drew his sword to return to the battle behind him. The surroundings faded away, turning black...

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Zach found himself on a familiar trail only a dozen yards from his childhood home. Snow coated the ground and trees, but the air itself was still. He heard screams, and the sounds of a swordfight, and in an instant he knew what was happening.

His foster mother had told him the story many times, and now he was witnessing the death of his family firsthand. Six bandits surrounded the wagon while his father tried desperately to fend them off. His father's wife and daughter clung to each other in the wagon, for they were powerless against the highwaymen. The older woman focused her attention on her daughter, hoping somehow to give support to the girl who, despite being fresh into womanhood, was large with child and overcome with terror.

Zach's reaction was unusually irrational and immediate as decades of carefully concealed fury suddenly overwhelmed him. He pulled his beltknife and charged at the men, bellowing a challenge just as the lead bandit ran his father through with a fatal blow. Several of the bandits had already been wounded by the dying man, but when they turned to see the new arrival they realized he was no threat.

It only took two to overwhelm Zach. He made one clumsy swing and his hand was caught. An instant later he was driven into the ground with a knee in his back. He tried to struggle, but the men held fast, locking his wrists together and all but smothering his face in the snow. While he twisted and howled, they chuckled and tried to calm him down with pacifying words. Their demeanor toward him was as if he were a favored brother who had gone wild with drink, rather than a nameless stranger who wanted to kill them.

Everyone who met Zach felt an instant affection for him, and this was a situation where it maddened him.

The other bandits had pulled the women from the wagon, but instead of using swords, they were beating them because they wanted to have a little fun before they died. Tearing clothes and anguished screams pierced the air like arrows, and Zach wept with the need to end the horror. The men settled into the wagon to examine their wounds and wait their turn, and he noticed one of them eying a bottle of wine. Zach's composure returned, and he knew what to do.

He became limp and relaxed. "I'm a doctor," he said, panting from his previous efforts. "Let me treat those wounds or they'll get infected." They discussed the wisdom of allowing it, but found him to be persuasive and all believed him trustworthy, so they released him to do his work. He carefully walked over to the bottle of wine, trying to pretend he wasn't bothered by the brutality going on around him, and prepared a salve. As he opened the bottle to pour a small amount in as if it were a normal ingredient, he secreted a pinch of expanding nettle seeds into the wine. As he'd hoped, the leader told him to bring the bottle with him so that they could celebrate the successful raid.

The seeds were tiny, undetectable in the wine, but once ingested would quickly grow many times their own size and tear apart the victim's stomach. By the time the bottle had been passed around to everyone the first to drink began to notice a pain in his gut. Nothing could save them, and they each doubled over in pain as death began to take hold. They looked weakly at Zach's betrayal, but could no more than reach for him before their legs gave way.

Zach pushed past them to the young girl. In moments she would be dead. His skills would be little help, and in her condition death would be a mercy.

Her child, though, could still be saved. He bent and picked her up straining against the unexpected weight of her. The old witch's hut was just past the trees and over the hill. He set out for it, certain there had to be time.

There was. He carried her to the door and beat on it until his foster mother, Samantha Beard, answered. Seeing the need, she waved him inside where he laid the girl on a long table. The pregnant girl gasped one last time and died, but Zach and the witch were already working to save the baby. She seemed to recognize his skill and wordlessly handed him a knife. He sliced open the belly and was hit with a gout of blood, but he ignored it to clear away the skin until the baby was exposed. He started to reach for it, but realizing what... who it had to be, stopped.

"I... can't," he said, afraid of what might happen if he touched it. "There's a reason."

Samantha nodded and took over. He could not even use his magic, for it required him to touch the patient, but within moments the baby was awake and screaming. The woman looked at Zach and smiled. "You were just in time."

"The others, over the hill. They were killed."

She locked eyes with him. "You have saved this boy's life. What is your name?"

He paused. "Zachariah," he said quietly, when the surroundings faded away, turning black...

The staff exploded in a flash of thunder and blinding light, and when it faded Raina found herself standing outside an elaborate mansion. Heavy rain was falling and she could hear the sounds of pursuit from within. Suddenly, two servants burst through the door, carrying a small child with them. They saw Raina and said, "Please help us!" Just then a half dozen heavily armed guards appeared and leveled their swords at them.

"Hand over the child!" The leader said.

"Not likely," Raina replied, and she heard a male voice from behind speak the same words at the same time. She lifted her sword as the man moved to stand alongside her and confront the guards. He gave Raina a brief nod and glared at the men.

"Tell Lady Castille that my daughter will not die this day," he growled.

Raina's eyes widened in shock. Lady Castille. Her own mother. The evil mage whom she had just taken her revenge on, who had fallen in league with Damien Luger and attempted to kill her friends dozens of times. The woman who had tried to kill her when she was just a child. She glanced back at the frightened child hiding in the servant's arms and recognized that it was indeed herself. Her father also looked between the two, and his face tightened, but he said nothing.

Raina looked at her father and nodded, raising her sword and hurling herself at the guards. She and her father cut through them as if they were nothing, one falling after another with each swing of their mighty weapons. Raina watched her father fight and felt joy at this chance to meet him. After all the time she had spent piecing together the mysteries of her heritage, and slaying her mother for her many crimes, being able to see her father lifted her heart and made it sing. The battle was almost over too quickly.

"She's gone mad," he said as the last guard fell. "And she will be coming before long. Please, help these two escape while I hold her back for as long as I can!" Without waiting for a response he charged into the mansion toward what Raina knew would be his last battle.

She looked at the two servants and said, "Let's go!" Needing no more encouragement than that, they took off in a desperate run. Raina moved to follow when the surroundings faded away, turning black...

The dragon, Big Red's son, looked her over as she reappeared in his cave. Everyone looked just as shaken as she, and she knew they had been through experiences just as private, just as personal. The dragon noted Raina's arrival with a somber, "That's all of you. Hopefully you haven't changed history too severely.

Dear Father,

Forgive me for not making this a more formal letter, but I've done so much of that in person I wanted the chance to speak in a relaxed manner for a change. I did enjoy our time together last September, but the confines of our stations and the tight schedules we were on made spending time with you overrigid. Much as I would have liked to, it would have been awkward at the time to tell you the story of how we saved your life before I was even born.

Of course, you might still remember that, since we met you at one point, but we told you very little at the time. Basically is started when, well, let's just say someone important told us that history had been changed by Damien Luger and Lady Castille. They had gone back in time and killed you before you could be crowned Emperor of Balanor, making the Mage's Guild the dominant power on the continent.

We were transported to the source of the gateway, Big Red's old cave, and we began to see the first signs of the new timeline. Big Red's son had been slain and we were attacked by Luger's henchmen and Almonzo, who had apparently been raised by Lady Castille. Dame Khana found battling even an alternate version of her husband to be difficult, but the others were able to block his image out of our minds as we fought him. Once we had beaten them, we stepped through the gateway and appeared in the past.

Our schedule was most urgent, so we quickly found the proper authorities and explained the situation as best we could given the circumstances. This led to a brief but significant meeting with you where we explained that we intended to use myself as a decoy while you slipped into your coronation ceremony unnoticed. You allowed us to take your carriage and we set off, hoping to lure your attackers into the open.

At first it seemed we were having better luck luring your suitors out into the open. We met one particularly fetching young lady I would have really liked to have gotten to know better, but Dame Khana forbade it, so we continued on. Soon we met another group that began to approach, and when they did not slow at our request we prepared for battle.

The three in the lead were Damien Luger, one of his generals, and Lady Castille, and three henchmen followed behind. As Dame Khana, Sir George and Dame Raina charged forward, Dame Moira made the attacking horses fall asleep, dumping Luger and his allies into the dirt. Unfortunately, Lady Castille still managed to hit me with a really painful spell, but after Dame Raina got to her she never cast another spell again. Soon after Dame Khana killed Luger, making him finally pay for his many crimes against Westmarch and the Empire.

Not long after the battle, we were transported back to Big Red's cave, but arrived before Luger and the others had killed the old dragon's son, and we found ourselves fighting them once again. Even with the dragon's help, fighting them a second time was extremely difficult and we barely made it alive. I think it was Sir George who killed Luger in the second battle, or maybe it was him the first time. It's a bit confusing, but either way, Luger is dead.

After that we went to Blackmoor to ensure that the battle between the new King and the champion of the barbarian tribes was fair. There were a few attempts to cheat, but we exposed each of them and the King won honorably, cementing his authority. Actually, that might have happened before we went back in time. My memory is a little hazy on that.

Last summer was of course the assault on Redrum's keep. Only the Dungeoneers actually entered his stronghold and fought him, but I think just about everyone helped in the initial assault. Dame Moira rode her giant owl, directing Nimbus, the dragon and Baby, the roc while the others fought their way through on the ground. When they got to the gates of the stronghold and threw them open they found a group of orcs gathered around the dead body of Sir William. He had been skewered by a ballista bolt, of all things! It was then that Zach performed the greatest miracle of all, restoring life to Sir William's dead body.

Father, please don't take this the wrong way, for I know you see Sir William almost as a son, but you may want to ask him to retire. Ever since the assault on Pirate Isle, he has been captured every single time he has gone on his own to infiltrate an enemy. He is still one of your best Nightblades, but I fear his game is slipping.

Inside the stronghold, the Dungeoneers fought a hydra and Redrum himself, who as it turned out was half troll and thus very difficult for them to kill.

Though they all helped fight him, appropriately enough it was Sir George who delivered the killing blow. The whole of western Balanor breaths a sigh of relief at the end of his reign of terror.

Of course, after that was the Imperial Tournament. After Sir John and I were knighted most of the Dungeoneers announced their retirement and our group officially took over. Only Dame Moira stayed active. We invited her to join us, but apparently Sir Nigel got to her first and she has agreed to teach at the new Adventurer's School. We'll still ask her to come with us on certain missions because it's polite, but we have her apprentice, Thomas, to manage our animal handling needs.

There are no missions right now however. It is the dead of winter and we are all preparing for Sir George's wedding to Mariko. Knowing Tucker this will be a celebration to rival even your wedding. I hope to see you there next month.

Love,

Edwin