GLORM

El Sid and Corbel returned shortly, but Glorm was not in any kind of shape to appreciate it. his mind was fuzzy, for reasons that he could not seem to focus on... Even as he wondered, an agonizing pain shot through his temple. He started to reach for his mug; he remembered the brandy seemed to remove him from his agony into a hazy stupor, but he hesitated for just a moment ignoring the searing behind his eyes. It had something to do with this house; he had felt fine when he had been out with Cookie in the rain. He was going to kill this old bastaaaaaaaaaaaar. Glorm collapsed to the floor his head splitting in agony. He heard Sid make some off hand comment about Dorf's holding their liquor. Lying on the bearskin rug Glorm started to slowly put the pieces together. Everytime he started to think about killlllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiiingggggg (OHMOTHEROFGOD!) his head split open. He was about to throw in the towel and take a swig of brandy, when a thought crossed his head Blackkkkheaaaaaaaart (DAMNDAMNDAMN!). Slowly he reached down with his right hand touching the cool hilt of his now familiar sword. With all his might he focused his mind (!STOPTHISSHITGODDAMMIT!)... and miraculously his head started to clear.

Glorm lay on the rug pondering this happy turn of events. He still felt slightly groggy from the brandy, but that was nothing new. Gingerly he started thinking about killing. He felt a pressure build in his mind trying to leach the thoughts from his head, only this time the Blackheart pushed back leaving him to his own dark thoughts. Damn! the house was trying to remove any hostile thoughts from his mind. Now this sort of thing might work on a human, but a dwarf grew up thinking about killing and mayhem from the moment he was born. There was no way the spell could subvert his mind, but it wouldn't give up either. The result was the mother of all headaches. Not wanting to let on to his new clear headedness, Glorm staggered to his feet and grabbed the bucket out of Cookies hands, sloshing some of the liquid onto the floor. He took a surprisingly small swallow, and leaned heavily against the nearest bookcase.

SID

The Kethemer reviewed recent events. He had gotten the old goat's rocks off, probably for the first time in decades, and given him information with which he could make political hay for Bryant Hold. High time to move in for the kill...

"My host, though you wouldn't expect it to look at him, our Troll Friend, Cookie, is quite the gourmet chef! He can make even the most mundane of fare a palate's delight. In exchange for your excellent hospitality, might you have any fixings upon which he can work his magic? I promise that you won't be disappointed. And while we wait, perhaps you could illuminate me on the workings of your unique abode. I believe this is the most intact PreFall building I have seen! After dinner, perhaps we might discuss local history. I understand that it was the discovery of a Great Sword in the mountains nearby that precipitated the massacre at Valen's Point and the beginning of the Second Orc-Human war..."

As the delighted Bryant and an expectant Troll led the party to the automated kitchen and pantry, Sid leaned and quietly said, "And Cookie, please go easy on the 'finger food' this time...and what the heck is a 'queez'n'art' and a 'my-krowave oven' anyway?..."

Cookie looked at the Dorf rolling on the floor, retching his guts up (or looking like he was about to), and proclaimed, "Dorf is lightweight". For the first time in a long time, Cookie felt at ease. This place was better than the Elf place (where they wisely hid all their hooch from the troll), and the old man seemed more trust worthy, being a crook in his own right, and somehow that comforted the troll (of course the brandy made this logic possible. As cookie headed for the kitchen, he ignored L-Sid`s comment of "no finger food this time". The man always seemed to spoil a great time...

DOM

He had never seen anything like it. The freezer box, for instance. Yes, sure, there were holds with cold rooms, temperature controlled by a cold rune chiseled into a stone tablet, including Hold Borgia. A cold rune that was the occasional gift of the Air or Water ghods to their worshipers during a major ceremony. High level worshipers, that was. He had never heard of one in anything less that a major hold. He also had a sneaking suspicion that the one that cooled this room was not going to give out in a year or two, as the ones in Kethem did. Since one of those ran four, maybe five thousand gold, the Don could only imagine what this one would be worth. And the... what did he call it... the stove? Small black plates set into a hard marble top that had glowed red and radiated heat when Corbel had said "hot." Corbel had shown Cookie how to control it; instant temperature change with the word "warm," "hot," "very hot," small incremental changes with a "hotter" or "cooler." And the cleaner; Corbel had put plates and silverware on a black rectangle set into the countertop, said "clean," and instantly they were not only clean, but glittered like they had just been polished.

Cookie was already rummaging through the spice rack, pulling things out of the chilled pantry, and clacking his teeth together, a sign the Don had learned meant roughly the same thing to the troll as a human rubbing his hands together in glee.

Corbel opened another cabinet and hauled down more plates, silverware, goblets, napkins and the like. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, with all this automation, and since I don't have many guests, I've never needed a servant to handle dinner." People helped move the eating utensils to the formal dining room. Just then, Krinn joined them, looking clean, happy, and very relaxed.

"Hot baths... gotta love 'em" she said almost dreamily, then sat down next to Corbel as he patted the seat behind him with a pathetically eager puppy-dog smile. The rest of the group sat as well, and Corbel passed around a couple of bottles of wine. El Sid and the Don drank this time, satisfied that Corbel, for the moment at least, was safe. It was good... very good.

"The house is, in fact, a remarkably well preserved pre-fall building. There are others that still hold some of the magic, particularly the larger palaces and villas in Cherifyr and the other cities. But most of the daily chore reducing magic vanished long ago; only the defensive stuff, set up to withstand antimagic and dispelling, or triple-redundant systems that were considered too important to have fail, like plumbing and heating, still work. I don't know why this house is different, but whoever owned it, they pumped enough mana into their spells that it still works to this day. Amazing, really, when you think about it. The most powerful Elvish magic I'm aware of has a half life of perhaps a thousand years; this has lasted at least five hundred without a single system failure, which would, I'd say, put it at least in that category. Sometimes, I think we overestimate the elve's technical superiority in spell casting... or at least, back before the fall."

Krinn was looking more sober, but she piped in "How many systems are there?"

"Ventilation, temperature, minor maintenance... you know, grass staying the right length, removal of bee's nests, et cetera, restore..."

"Restore? What's that?"

"Restores rooms to what might be considered pristine condition, in terms of putting things away. There's a trick there I haven't mastered, because I can't figure out how to reset it to what I want... it always snaps back to that appallingly generic look in the great room. I only use it in a few places."

"Wheeeee!!!! cried Cookie, having figured out what a cuisenart did.

El Sid politely interrupted. "Very interesting. I'm surprised it survived the Galagulk (second orc-human) war."

"Actually, the first" replied Corbel. "This area was no-mans land after the initial war with the Orcs. It was too far from Valen's Point and Segris Crossing to be easily guarded or supported, and there were no major military targets in the area, no cities, no significant natural resources."

The Sid nodded. "You are well versed in the history of Pranan."

"More the wars, I'm afraid. Bryant hold did a lot of trading in Kanday, metal out of our mines for a variety of items. Frequently, it was Urakou slaves or Urakai battlemagic. It helps to know something of the history of the people when evaluating the worth of such things."

"And that's were you learned to speak Kandayan so well?"

Corbel nodded. "And that's why I'm somewhat intrigued with several of the things you've mentioned this evening. Bethalen station is not a name I've heard before, and most ruins, with some minor exceptions, are fairly well known for the glamour associated with adventuring in such places, if nothing else. Most of the recovered Urakai battlemagic come from groups that do that kind of thing, and I would have thought I knew every significant ruin in these parts. And I had never heard the rumor that Valen's Point and the start of the war was associated with one of the Greatswords. I assume you are speaking of one the twelve, correct? Do you know which one it was?"

"Actually, I ran across the reference in an old, private manuscript. It seems it was a common rumor at the time that a Great Sword was recovered in the mountains outside Chelto by the Urakai, who controlled that stronghold at the time. The Urakai shortly thereafter struck at Valen's Point. That massacre precipitated the Second War, as the weakness of human defenses was made manifest. I inferred a connection. Maybe it was just all ancient smoke... But this business of Morgart the Black! If we may impose on your hospitality, what was the cause of the enmity between you and he? And what do you make of this BlackLife? The boy said it was 'the Will and Mind' of Morgart. If Morgart is two centuries buried, what are we to make of this? The youth was certainly no shade! Could it be that some agency Morgart set in motion centuries ago still operates?"

Corbel's brows furled in thought.

El Sid Continued "Mayhaps the key is at Bethlehem Naval Station? As you point out, no ruin extent today bears that name. Could it have been utterly wiped out? Or could it perhaps still exist, hidden, unsuspected, after all this time? The stretch of river to search can't be that long. Would you be interested in a business partnership based on the exploitation of this information?... "

Corbel replied "I'm not sure I understand what you mean by searching the river. You said the boy identified the ruins you were at as Bethlehem Naval Station. Why don't we just go there?"

"It was as we were passing some nondescript ruins along the river. Suddenly, this youth appeared and invited us to follow and join him. He acted and spoke most oddly. Glorm asked him why we were to follow, and to join him where and in what. He replied to join the BlackLife, the Mind and Will of Morgart, at Bethelen Station. There was more, arcane, disjointed talk about the absence of Time, pain and ecstasy. Then, as Glorm began to approach him, he vanished. The old manuscript I alluded to also mentioned Bethelen Naval Station. It's precise location wasn't described as the reader was assumed to know it."

Here the Sid smiled disarmingly, "Of course, would you be interested and have the resources to help us exploit this information in a partnership, my memory might be more exacting of details. But as I'm sure you appreciate, business is business. I just thought that an honorable gentleman such as yourself, although chance met, if he had time, might be interested in backing a Company concerned with developing a potentially unplundered PreFall military ruin. It would require a commitment of resources, especially of knowledge and research, particularly regards Morgart, as well as the abilities to detect a shielded facility or at least approximate it's location. An equitable split in such a venture would serve us well, both our respective Houses aand ourselves personally. An unplundered PreFall naval base. A stimulating thought, eh, what?..."

Corbel smiled easily. "Ahhh, to business, to business." He shook his head. "My young Lord, please understand that my seniority in years provides a slightly different perspective on such things. The night is young. Let us enjoy dinner, and then," and a glint of steel showed in his eyes, "we can talk business."

DELRIN

Delrin sat quietly in his chair watching Cookie in action. The troll was normally pretty crude and disgusting, but put him in a kitchen and some kind of magic seemed to happen. The large knife in his one hand was chopping vegetables (or at least he hoped they were vegetables) while his other hand picked over the small leather pouches of spices he had found. The fantastic magic kitchen seemed to neither impress nor bother Cookie as he whistled off key and sliced and diced...

After a few mesmerizing minutes of watching Cookie, Delrin's attention drifted over to his friend Krinn. The normally dower half-elf was positively radiant. She was sitting next to Corbel laughing and exchanging pleasant trivialities. "Well" he thought "at least something good had come of this monsoon." Delrin was not the most sophisticated sort, but he could tell that Corbel and Sid were engaged in some sort of ritual verbal fencing match, each trying to out wit the other. Delrin wasn't much interested in politics, but Corbel seemed like a decent sort, and he was treating Krinn well, if his instincts were to be believed. With that in mind, Delrin followed Corbel out of the kitchen the next time he went for a fresh bottle of wine.

"Friend Corbel, I would like a word with you if you have a minute."

"Not again" Delrin heard Corbel mutter. "Oh sorry, I just wanted to get back to the errr company as quickly as possible." Corbel said blushing slightly. For his seemingly advanced age, he seemed to have quite a constitution, if Delrin was any judge.

"A minute is all I ask, nothing more. I could not help but notice you and my friend Krinn seemed to hit it off. On the one hand, I would be most disappointed, if you were to treat the lad poorly. But on the other hand, she seems to be enjoying your company immensely, so I would like to offer a few suggestions. Now as adventurers, we probably cannot stay past the end of this storm, which would limit your enjoyment of the lovely Krinn significantly. However, if you were to offer our little group some form of employment, that might necessitate our return to your lovely little home. Alternatively, Krinn is something of a dabbler in the arts magical; I am sure she could persuade Lord Sid to stay for a while, if she were engaged in furthering her study of such arts. Remember I am your ally in these as long as you have the young ladies best interest in mind..."

Delrin tried to look somewhat intimidating, but failed miserably. Corbel clapped the druid on the shoulder and went in search of the wine. "Fear not my druidical friend, I am nothing if not honorable."

KRINN

Krinn smiled coyly to their host as he droned on about the houses automated features, blushing slightly as he noticed her small flirtation. Her surface thoughts were all aflutter: how distinguished and wise Corbel was; finally someone whom she could look up to, not as handsome as Sid, but still... In her core however, Krinn's thoughts were not quite so flighty, although she was quite giddy after a fashion. She had snared the old wizard without a hitch. One thing you could count on with men was their vanity, particularly older men with younger women. Sure Corbel was OK, at least in comparison to the elves she knew... With luck she could have Corbel teaching her spells within a night or two. She could have gone to the elves for such learning; a few fourth level spells might not have attracted much attention, but anything more, and her mother's enemies would have gotten reports (such things were closely recorded by the elves after all). No this had worked out much better. If here guess was correct, Corbel was as good a spell caster as the humans had. Over the next year or two she could learn most of what he knew. There would be a price to pay, but there is always a price to pay for such knowledge and this one was not so steep. Most women would not even try to trick such a mage such as Corbel, vanity or no, but Krinn had a trick up her sleeve, something only one or two others knew. She remembered back to that summer evening twenty years ago. Her uncle Hotherial (or so she thought of him) had found her meditating deep in a sacred grove. The grove was a wonderfully silent place, protected from the din of eleven telepathy by some ancient magic. "Krinn there you are." He sighed "Ahhh you look so much like your mother..." Krinn knew her "uncle" had a thing for her mother, but so far mother had just strung him along like all the rest, or at least all the lucky ones. "As I was saying I have come to give you a gift, something wonderful and terrible at the same time, but you must promise to tell no one, not even your mother."

Krinn pondered his offer. She had never seen uncle Hotherial so serious. Whatever his gift, it was indeed something wondrous and frightening. After a short pause she nodded. "Yes uncle this is between us alone.

"As you know their is a group amongst the people, your mother included, who would like to raise the humans up to our stature. You see, as our people slowly decline in numbers someone must replace us. The humans are not much, but they are the best we have to work with... Now such a task requires a certain amount of discretion, which is problematic. The collective elven mind, makes this type of deception impossible, or so everyone believes... Many years ago, when I was a young man I was studying in a place called Nostrilia. I had a friend among the humans, a mage named Sigmund Freud. Now Freud was studying various mental ailments amongst his people using various mental spells. One particular line of research caused him a great deal of trouble. He found it impossible to probe anything but the dominant mind of a schizophrenic. It came to me that, if I could intentionally fragment my personality in a controlled way, I could have a surface persona and a core persona. I was young and perhaps foolish at the time, and so I undertook this experiment. I succeeded, although at a cost... But that is not the topic of this discussion is it. As I was saying my experiment worked, and I have these two persona. I have tried several times to show my cohorts this trick, but only a few have succeeded. One of them was my son.

Krinn new of Brogart, of course. A halfbreed, like herself. Two of the threesome, the third a monster best not talked about. "But Uncle, like me, he cannot mind meld."

Hotherial had nodded. "Normally, yes, but there are... devices and spells that will allow it for a time. Your mother feels it would be a mistake to expose you to these, since they will kindle a longing for full contact that you cannot have. But the exercises required to create the new persona are merely mental, and do not depend on the mind meld itself. If you wish this gift, I will give it to you. It is powerful gift, but it brings a great loneliness, since your core will never again be part of the one mind. Your inner self will always be alone in a great void...

Krinn sat silently for a long time pondering this gift. She knew her answer at once, but it took her nearly till dawn to speak the words. "Yes I must accept this gift from you uncle. Please show me how it is done.

The exercises were not hard to learn, but she had to avoid contact with her mother for six months for her new persona to split off completely. For once, she was happy that her mother was so busy. Not so busy she did not suspected something was up, but busy enough to chalk it up to some sort of youthful rebellion, nothing more.

And so, Corbel could read her mind all he liked, as she knew he would. He would not risk involvement with some wild half-elven woman-child without knowing her true mind. However, it would not occur to him that she had two minds... Krinn would learn what he could teach her, paying the price she must pay. This was the first step to gaining her birthright, and when it was all hers, then her enemies would pay and her mother could rest easily in her grave!

"What is that wonderful smell!" Corbels ancient if not unpleasant voice broke her reverie.

She focused and flashed a brilliant smile at him as Cookie called out "dinner ready in half hour or so."

GLORM

Glorm kept his drunken facade up for a little longer, and then slowly "sobered" up. If he wanted to question the human, he would have to appear more or less sober... As dinner wound down, he asked his host, if he would like to share a bowl of tabac. Corbel had nodded, and the two of them had retreated towards the fire. He handed a pouch of his best weed to the elderly man, and lit up his own dragon pipe. "My apologies on my earlier state of mind. Remind me never to try and keep up with a Troll when drinking brandy." "You were no trouble at all Glorm, the houses cleaning systems will take care of the stained carpet as we sleep." Corbel made some small talk about how fine the pipeweed was and how the dragon pipe was indeed a fine bit of workmanship. Glorm in turn complimented Corbel on his long stemmed Meershaum pipe carved in the form of a pretty woman. The man did seem to have a one track mind. After a few minutes Glorm broke the silence.

"Corbel, you be well informed on a great number of matters. I was wondering, if you could help me with a personal matter...

"Well Glorm, I'd be happy to answer as best as I can, circumstances permitting."

"As you are probably aware, I be the only one of my species in this part of the world. I be trying to make my way back to my people, possibly opening a trading route between Kethem and my people. To best of my knowledge my homeland is to the north on the other side of the Urakai territory, however my information is limited. Have you any knowledge of my people or of the geography to the north?"

Glorm said his piece quickly and resumed smoking letting a smoke image of a Dwarven lass drift towards the high ceiling.

Corbel raised his eyebrows. "Ahhh, my friend, I am so sorry. Even prefall, little was known about the area outside the Lanotalis sea, one of the reasons the Stangri were such a surprise and, initially, were so successful. In many ways, the Stangri did us a favor... and I mean more than in the fourth Orc-Human war- by opening our eyes to a truth that was not even suspected before they attacked.... that we were not alone in the world. Now, raider class ships from Kethem are starting to expand our knowledge of what is beyond the inner sea to the outer, but not of what is overland."

Glorm sighed. "An old saying of my people is to expect dismay to avoid it. I have failed." As they walked back to the table together, Corbel asked "do you know when the Troll is going to take me aside? I think he and the Don are the last ones..."

POST DINNER

Everyone slouched back in their seats, not because they were relaxed, but because the amount of food they had eaten left it the only comfortable position to sit in. Cookie had outdone himself with the marvels of the automated kitchen, and probably more significantly, the plentify supply of hard to get spices, herbs and vegetables.

"I don't think I've had a better meal since I left Kethem... and I'm not sure I had one before then, either" said Corbel, patting his tummy appreciatively.

Fuji, not surprisingly, let out an incredible belch. Corbel, surprisingly, let out a louder one. Fuji's eye's widened. "Nice one, Sama Brojo." Corbel just smiled and nodded, then catching Krinn's somewhat horrified glance, patted her knee instead of his stomach.

"Just being polite to guests, my swe.... Lady Krinn."

El Sid and the Don where the only ones that didn't have a hard time keeping a straight face. Long practice.

"Well, shall we retire to the great room and move on to more serious conversation?" said Corbel as he rose. A few minutes later, they were back in the large Kanday style room, with yet more Brandy.

After they were all comfortable, Corbel started. "In response to your question, my Lord, I am, of course interested. However, as you know, as a silver ring I have some fiscal authority over hold properly.... which includes the vast majority of things in this house... but I have little authority over personel that do not directly report to me, of which there are none. Even I can not simply become a wandering adventurer at the drop of a hat. I could petition my Lord Bryant, but I can promise almost certain failure. Therefore, I would suggest we use a more standard outfitting contract. I supply the equipment, you supply the legwork, fifty fifty split."

"Fifty.... FIFTY?" sputtered Glorm. "That be outrageous! We be taking all the risk?"

The Sid answered him. "No, Corbel is right. He's taking the financial risk. Only about twenty percent of these types of ventures usually pay off... the rest end up with empty hands, dead people, or a party that vanishes into the hills..."

"Or tries to" added Corbel.

The Sid cocked his head. "OK. So, most people playing this are playing the statistical game. One out of five winners, one out of two of those big enough to pay back for the rest and turn a significant profit. You need to be able to do about ten for it to be more than a crap shoot."

Corbel smiled. "I don't play the odds, I make them. You've got information... some proof of which you will show me before the deal is closed. It doesn't have to disclose the location of the station. Your group seems uniformly quick of wit..."

Corbel was cut off by a blast of gutteral laugh from Cookie. Glorm looked at him. "Cookie?"

"This was joke, right? HAR HAR HAR."

Corbel winced and continued "... mostly quick of wit, dexterous, and well armed. You all have hidden agendas, which will keep you from trusting one another too much, but have lasted this long under serious field conditions, which means you won't turn on each other. Some of the information you've given me already," and he looked at the Sid, "means you are very resourceful, or you would be dead. All in all, I'd say this venture has an excellent chance at success."

"What are the conditions?"

"Option one, I ESP each one of you thoroughly (note: This will penetrate El Sid's Anti-ESP). My personal ethics prevent me from doing this unless it involves saving lives, or I have everyone's agreement. Option two, you leave something of great value behind, personal or financially more than the cost of the provisions. Option three, I use a tracker I will magically bind to you. My personal ethics, of course, prohibit me from doing more than finding you and recovering the provisions and a reasonable surcharge to cover expenses. If you can not afford it, my personal ethics prohibit torture or mutilation, so you are promised a fast and easy death." Corbel dropped the smile on the last sentence.