Chapter 8.

ROYAL PALACE OF TUROK,

KINGDOM OF CARPIA

(ONE WEEK EARLIER)

Vargo Kent escorted Turok's two guests to their respective rooms. Szass Tam, first; followed by Imsa the Green. Yet, he lingered longer with the latter with the former. He even closed the green-skinned woman's door with a wave of his left hand to insure them some privacy!

"Why did you do that?" she demanded.

"I wish to ask you a question, Milady. One that has pressing need for an immediate answer. Tell me. How does one go from being a Half-elven Renegade to an acolyte of the Twisted Rune?"

She glared at him with undisguised annoyance.

"You are surprisingly well-informed, Lord Vargo. But, in answer to your question; it was not an easy process. One must first be prematurely exposed, by a pure-blood of the Eldreth Veluuthra, as a wolfwere assassin for the Zhentarim..."

Whereupon, she metamorphed into a bipedal lycanthrope!

"...posing as a half-green elf lythari. One is then required to make up for that failure by agreeing to slay a malenti priestess of Umberlee for possession of one of the long-lost tomes... of Sahu."

Up to this point, Vargo had been tickling the lower jaw of his pet black pseudo-dragon while it perched atop his magi-staff. Yet, when he heard the word "Sahu," he instantly ceased that tickling. Looking at the shapeshifter before him with open-mouthed amazement.

"The Isle of the Necromancer Kings?!"

"None other," growled Imsa. "Then, and only then, can one freely reveal oneself to one's client, a certain drow cleric of Kiaransalee, as actually being a doppelganger!"

For emphasis, she now metamorphed into an androgynous humanoid form that resembled -more than anything else- the desiccated corpse of a drow.

"One secretly working for the Twisted Rune, all along," she added. "...and with orders to eliminate _two_ targets."

The purple-clad Dragon Cultist leaned on his magi-staff and grinned with delight.

"Incredible! How _do_ you keep track of all those deceptions, Milady?"

"Eidetic memory, Lord Vargo. But, now you tell me something."

Here, Imsa resumed her verdant female form.

"Has this little talk reassured you of my prowess for the upcoming task?"

"Yes, indeed! I shall leave you, now, so you may refresh yourself in private after your long journey."

Whereupon, the guest room door opened with just a magical wave of his left hand. Thereby allowing him to walk out backwards, in a deferential half-bow, before straightening back up in the hallway and magically closing the door for a second time.

MYSTARAN FOOTHILLS

(THE PRESENT)

Kaulder and Dobin Goodfellow made camp that first night in a woodland clearing about a hundred miles from the ruins of Myth Draenor. Of course, while Dobin could satisfy his appetite by simply grazing, Kaulder had to do a little rabbit hunting to get himself some meat for supper. Fortunately, the planet Zeist was similar enough to Earth that it proved to even have some of the same kinds of wildlife!

It was while munching on a well-grilled back leg, around seven o'clock later that evening, that he saw a remarkable sight in the starlit sky.

"Whoa! Five moons?! I thought Aranea said Glordelia had only captured three."

The purple unicorn nodded.

"The other two are Zeist's regular moons: Abeir and Toril. The materialization of the other three has played havoc with astrologists all over Midazeroerth. To say nothing of the effect they've had on shipping and fishing through the realignment of tides and currents! That's why you mustn't fail in stealing the Silmarils from Glordelia's tiara. Even if you have to behead her to do it!"

Kaulder looked at the battle ax he had been magically loaned.

"Aranea called this the Ax of Gar Y'gyg. Who was he?"

"A paladin of the ancient Sun Elves. Legend has it that Zeist was once invaded by a race of beings called the Phyrexians. They came from a whole other plane of existence, under the leadership of someone called Yawgmoth, and anyone captured alive by them became one of them. A sort of clockwork-automated lich! They were ultimately driven off, of course. But, only after a massive loss of life on both sides. Including Gar Y'gyg, himself! He sacrificed his own life in order to slay Yawgmoth during that climactic battle. His tomb on the elven island of Evermeet has been venerated as a pilgrimage site ever since."

The next morning, after having jerked rabbit leftovers for breakfast, Kaulder remounted Dobin. Whereupon, the unlikely duo resumed their journey towards Baldur's Gate.

It was eight hours later that they heard the first signs of battle.

"Sounds like it's just to the south of us," observed Kaulder.

"I would advise against buttin' into someone else's business," countered Dobin. "We have a deadline, you know."

"Just a quick recon," replied the eight-hundred-year-old witch hunter. "So, we can at least be sure we're not being followed by someone intending to stop us."

The purple unicorn sighed. "Very well!"

A minute later, they were on top of a slope looking down upon a melee that looked like it had gone poorly for the ones caught in the center of an ever-narrowing circle of bipedal hyenas.

"Gnolls," said Dobin, identifying the latter. "And it looks like they've killed a small platoon of Krugs."

"Krugs?" echoed Kaulder.

"Azure-Bound lizard folk, employed as border guards by the Zhentarim. The ruling merchants' guild of this province! The Krugs ain't too bright. But, they're relentless in battle. That and the fact the gnolls regard them as much tougher eatin', than dwarves and humans, means those two still standin' will wish they'd been killed on the spot!"

"We'll see about that," replied Kaulder.

Whereupon, he blew the Flying Huntsmen horn. And, as anticipated, the gnolls looked skyward! For Kaulder had correctly deduced that, with a name like "Flying Huntsmen," the adventurers in question had to ride either winged horses or giant trained eagles into battle. In either case, the gnolls were bound to look up into the sky rather than up the slope of the hill behind him.

The same hill down which Dobin was now galloping at full speed. His golden alicorn now pointed straight at the back of the nearest gnoll. Seconds later, it howled in terminal pain, as it became impaled on the alicorn, while its comrades either fell to the side or just plain leaped out of the way! Their initial confusion giving Kaulder a quickly-seized opportunity to either fracture their skulls with his shield. Or, to behead them with the battle ax. That, in turn, inspired the dwarf and the young warrior woman to launch their own surprise counter-offensive! Logar Ythm fracturing skulls with his trusty mace, while Helene Frisson virtually dissected her opponents with silver hunting swords that she twirled and whirled and otherwise wielded with literally eye-blurring speed.

The few gnolls who managed to evade all that carnage wound up having their bones pulverized by the pounding front hoofs of either Dobin Goodfellow -still trying to dislodge the impaled gnoll from his alicorn- or Coucou the Pooka -still in black stallion mode. And it was only when they realized that none of the gnolls were still alive that the five combatants ceased their frantic ferocious frenzy.

"Hi, there," said Kaulder, opting to be the one who broke the proverbial ice. "I guess this is the part where we swap autobiographies."

tbc