Illarion played his flute softly among the willow's roots. The little orange puff dancing dreamily at his feet was the elf's best friend and pet kit, Nadya. She continued to dance, her tail swirling around her like a ballroom gown, cooing as she went.

A breeze fluttered the willow's branches which swayed to and fro, sending shadows onto the two guests resting beneath her welcoming leaves, flowing to the ground like a curtain of silk. The great willow tree was honored to have such performers in her home, resting to the soothing song the elf played.

Nature has always welcomed the company of elves; the two always sharing a special bond that none could break. The elvish music also entranced animals, such as Nadya, causing them to become calm and relaxed.

As the elf slowly finished his song, the braches slowed to a stop, and the glowing apricot twirled one last time, before doing what looked like a curtsey. Illarion removed the flute from his lips and rested his head against the smooth trunk of the willow. This was his secret spot where he came to rest and gaze upon Klay.

The city of Klay was a second home to the elf. At a very young age, his father had disowned him after being kicked out of three knight schools. So, the elf decided to live the easy life of a carefree thief/mercenary. It was not long before he met his partner in crime, Nadya. After much training, Illarion had managed to teach the kit how to pick pocket and look cute and fuzzy at the same time. However, his life became quite dull after awhile. That is before he met Beow Shortgrass.

As Illarion and Nadya entered the Earth Faith Capital City, he immediately set his eyes on an easy target to prey on for lodgings. Too bad he chose to pick-pocket a pick pocketer. The halfling caught him red handed, but instead of reporting the elf to the authorities, he marveled at the elf's skills and introduced him to a rebellious organization called Watchfoot. It was a guild of oddballs and weirdo's whose exotic skills were used to counter evil, and hopefully one day, destroy it once and for all.

Of course the elf agreed and became very fond of the halfling. However, as Illarion was a new recruit to the guild, he was placed under a grumpy, old gnome named Gnimish. The gnome, strict as he was, whipped the young elf lad into a stealthy, intelligent, elflord.

'As a matter of fact,' he thought to himself. 'I wonder where he is right now? Probably nagging Beow's ears off.' The elf chuckled silently. Good Times. Good Times.

The air was hazy and accompanied by wisps of smoke from several tobacco pipes. The owner of such a pipe happened to be a scholar. The gnome wizard, Gnimish, looked out of place in such a dirty place. His face was clean except for a beard sprouting from round his mouth, his clothing tucked in and washed; his hair was tidy and his hat bright. As clean and tidy as he was, what was he doing in a run down, age worn, foul smelling pit as this?

"What'll it be stranger?" a porky halfling gruffed. Gnimish wondered how the mugs were supposed to be clean when the halfling was wiping it with a dirty rag as black as night. "Do you happen to have any wine?" Gnimish replied, removing his pipe and glancing at the smudged mug that was slammed in front of him.

"Wine? Well, le'see," the bartender struggled to turn around and had to suck in his gut to reach the shelves behind him. He scanned the shelves and came upon a dusty shelf full of cobwebs and dark bottles. "Yep, we have 'um." he picked up the wine and wiped the dust off with his now darker rag.

Gnimish examined the wine bottle that was placed in front of him. The label was written in an older elvish language, apparently given to the dwarves as a gift from the old Creek War, which occurred over two thousand years ago. Age must have given this particular wine its dark ruby color.

The glass clanked as the halfling clumsily poured the ruby tinted wine into it. The bartender stopped, leaving the glass half-full and charged Gnimish full price. "I beg your pardon?" The bartender again demanded full price, with a harsh grunt. The old scholar gave up and handed the halfling three gold coins. The porky creature seemed satisfied and shuffled off to another customer, taking the wine bottle with him. "I'll get those barbarians..."Gnimish muttered.

As if taunting him, the table behind him burst into jovial laughter and merriment. The stout gnome responded in an unpleasant manner. The dwarves behind him ignored their leader and continued to chatter amongst themselves. They talked of home, and of their spoils they had collected on their journey with Gnimish.

The dwarves were professional Axe-throwers, trained in the Military Barracks for twelve years. They all shared the typical hairstyle of a warrior, and had duel hand-axes on either side of their belts. Gnimish did not approve of company, but his commander insisted on bringing them along. He had to admit they weren't so bad after all. A little sleep, a little brew, and BAM! They're ready for anything.

Gnimish joined Beow's forces after a clan of orcs raided his tower and stole his precious books, leaving the gnome with nothing. Beow, being a young lad at the time, took him in and promised the gnome that he will find his books. Now, after so many years of searching, Gnimish's books still haven't been found. Every time Gnimish had an opportunity of going on a mission, he believed that one mission would fulfill his quest, and the search for his books would be over. No such luck. So, after succeeding in yet another mission but failing his goal, Gnimish decided to spend the night in Klay, and let his dwarves get a drink.

The wine touched his lips with pure elegance, and calmly flowed down his throat. Gnimish lowered the glass and twirled the rest of the wine in its glass. "1159, a good year..." The gnome was surprised at the taste. Pure Elven wine, no better wine in the world.

He was about to order another drink, when a distant horn blew. Everyone froze. The call was the distinct mark of battle. Half the bartender's customers were part of Gnimish's group, so on hearing the horn, half the bar became empty as the dwarves (and among them Gnimish) swarmed through the great oak door and out to the street, leaving half finished beers behind.

Illarion shaded his eyes as he stepped out from under the willow's branches. It would be dark soon, and around here the nights are darker during the spring season. Then something appeared in the elf's keen eyesight.

On top of the lush green hills, little dots appeared. 'That's strange.'' In seconds the dots formed a line detail, surrounding the northern side of the city. Shouts of command echoed off the valley walls, making it sound as if all the citizens of Urak had arrived.

Setting down his flute, Illarion stood up above the branches to get a clearer view. Hundreds upon thousands of orcs, goblins, and wolves barked, grunted and hollered, all waiting eagerly for the command to attack.

Illarion quickly counted the odds. This was not going to end well. "I've got to help!" he said, pulling out his boomerang, the metal glinting menacingly in the sunlight. He had to protect his home, no matter what the cost.

Gnimish gasped at the sight. Beyond the earthen buildings, and out of the city's borders, there lay hundreds upon thousands of orcs, goblins, and wolves, infesting the rolling green hills that usually welcomed the city every morning when the sun peaked over the top, and flowed down into the valley where the city lay.

"This can't be good," mumbled Gnimish, as he readjusted his bag of spell components. The dwarves grunted and got into battle formation, blocking the street with their smelly bodies, and pulling out their axes.

Gnimish's palms sweated as he waited for the next horn call. As he looked, the marauding army stood unflinching, almost as organized as an army of the Order faith, waiting to be called forth. The gnome took a step back and moved his palm facing forward, ready to cast his spell. The horn blew.

Fire rained the sky as goblin archers lit their arrows and set homes, buildings, and even innocent by-standers aflame. Soon the city was in panic until dwarves in red uniforms began to shout orders to the people and each other to put out the fires. Gnimish's party ignored the pandemonium around them, and focused on the situation at hand.

The little wizard grabbed some spell components from his pouch and threw them up in the air. "Serith ogan le hash!" Gnimish shouted, and a breeze swept the components towards the enemy's front-line.

The breeze calmed and the components gently drifted to the ground, causing one Goblin to pause and watch it fall to the ground. Immediately, charging orcs, wolves, and goblins screamed and made a bloody gurgling sound as stalagmites shot up from the ground, and surrounded Klay as a protective wall.

Gnimish relaxed as his spell worked effectively and snorted. "That should hold 'um!" His axe throwers seemed bored with their leader's power, as they have seen it many times, but were grateful that their enemy has decreased greatly.

A brownie, which was jumping about frantically trying to get the attention of a red dwarf, knocked Gnimish into a muddy puddle. "Ooops...Sorry!" it squeaked. Gnimish grumbled some more, causing brown bubbles to come up from the area around his mouth.

Gnimish stood up; ignoring the brownie's apologizes, and noticed that his hat was gone. He found it submerged in the muddy puddle, and with a look of disgust, wiped off the mud and placed his hat gently on top of his head.

Suddenly, a loud, resounding crunch tore through the air. Everyone looked down the street and saw the stalagmites crack, then shatter into pieces of rubble. As the dust cleared, three silhouettes emerged from the side beyond, and revealed themselves as rock trolls.

Gnimish plucked up some elk leaves from his pouch and mumbled something under his breath. A large boulder appeared with a loud popping noise and hurtled down the street towards the creatures. The trolls cried out in surprise as the boulder rammed into them, sending all three flying backwards through the hole which they had just created, and taking out the front flanks of their army. To Gnimish's relief, he had destroyed their raider's only trolls.

The dwarves charged forward as the rest of the raiding army ran through the gap like water surging through a hole in a boat. Each dwarf pulled out an axe and hacked at anything that was green, filling the air with cold steel and flesh. Goblins replied by thrashing out with their swords. Some goblin archers even decided to clunk dwarves on the head when they got too close.

The battle raged on, and having had time to prepare, the townsfolk managed to pick up axes, bows, and even furniture to cripple the army's flanks and save their homes. Lucky for them all, a water mage happened to be inside the city and helped put out the fires along with the red dwarves.

Once night had fallen, everyone examined the results of battle. Homes were smoking; bodies lay everywhere, and the awful reek of the dead filled their nostrils. Gnimish sat down on a boulder and collapsed. The people of Klay had won. If it hadn't been for Gnimish and other mage's magic, the city would have been engulfed with blood and the dead.

Looking up at the stars, Gnimish praised the gods that he was among the living, and that he shall live to see another day.