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ORDER & CHAOS pt. 16
Posted 06-07-2009 at 07:39 PM by Goth Writer
Updated 06-11-2009 at 09:45 PM by Goth Writer (It's a work in progress...)
Updated 06-11-2009 at 09:45 PM by Goth Writer (It's a work in progress...)
From above Deirdre called out, “Nymphae and dryads, help us! We are in danger here.”
A number of forms that The Watcher had taken to be tree stumps and branches moved eerily and rolled along the forest floor. They stood erect and assumed humanoid forms. They were dryads born from the enchanted trees of Mystic Down.
From the distant forest, blue and silver lights shone amid the trees. A battalion of male and female nymphs flew to the clearing at a rapid pace. They wore flowing robes similar to those worn by Deirdre.
Before the centipedes reached Bjorn and his friends the forest dwellers met with the perturbed centipedes. The cylindrical creatures twisted and snapped at the flying nymphs but were no match for their piercing lances and resilient shields.
From the perimeter of the clearing the dryads moved in, glaring at the beasts with angry expressions in their bark faces. Over a dozen of the centipedes latched themselves to the log-like arms and legs of the dryads. The woody humanoids howled loudly as they dragged their attackers in earthy gashes across the topsoil. Many of the tubular beings were squashed under the gnarled feet and fists of the dryads. More of them fell to the lances of Deirdre and her people.
Gearzon fired a volley of stones from his slingshot as did Bjorn and The Watcher from their slings. Their missiles hit their intended targets, breaking three maroon centipedes into two pieces that shivered and then lay still.
Ben Frostberry uttered a war cry and rushed into the clearing, hacking and slashing with his steel blade. The vexed centipedes turned their attention from the dryads and spat a barrage of green acid at the middle-aged baker. He evaded the attack deftly, tumbling across the hilly ground, but was hit in the calf by a glob of searing acid. He yelled in pain and wiped the chemical clean with a handful of grass.
The lithe halfling rolled forward and drove his weapon downward in a series of strikes, destroying three more of the farsighted centipedes. The dryads and nymphs attacked again as did Ben and his acquaintances. They finished off the remaining creatures and stood from their hiding place. Each of the travelers gave a cheer of victory.
“Hooray!”
“To our rescue you came, Wood Dwellers. Our thanks you have,” said The Watcher.
“I never realized that the south woods were so populated with entities,” observed Ben Frostberry. “We are indebted to you tree folk and nymphs for your aid. Alas, my friends and I would love to stay and visit but we must be on our way.”
“That is fine by us, Brave Halfling,” anwered a tall dryad. “Call me Woodfist. We dryads sleep much of the time but are willing to act to preserve the harmony of the forest. Deirdre, we are tired. With your permission we will return to our slumber until such time as you need us.”
“That is fine, Woodfist,” said Deirdre. “We nymphs will fly to our Hive and regenerate our natural energy there. Goodbye, Short Humanoids. We may meet again.”
“Goodbye, Deirdre,” replied Ben Frostberry.
The dryads marched from the clearing and merged within the shadows of the forest. The nymphs left trails of light through the trees as they sped into the deep woods.
“Let’s be on our way, My Companions,” said Gearzon. “Tinkerburg can’t be much farther through these thickets. If we keep a steady pace we may reach my home city by tomorrow morning.”
The halflings and gnome had keen vision and traveled through the moonlit forest through the night. They took care to march in silence and were not again accosted by hostile creatures.
As dawn broke The Watcher sniffed the air.
“Ah, close the sea is. From long ago I remember that smell.”
“Yes, Aged Friend, the gnomes are near,” Gearzon replied.
The travelers reached the southern edge of the forest of Mystic Down. They beheld a stretch of windswept coastline and the white-capped sea of Umihito beyond.
“Let us pause for some breakfast,” Ben Frostberry said. “I’m hungry.”
“That’s a good idea, Gray-bearded Friend,” the gnome engineer agreed. “Tinkerburg is a bustling metropolis and it can be hard to find succor in a convenient fashion.”
The journeyers sat down in the billowing field to a modest meal of pie and jerky. They drank water from their travel flasks.
In the midst of their breakfast, Gearzon and his allies were shaken by a tattoo of rumbling through the ground.
“Uh-oh,” said Bjorn. “This doesn’t sound good.”
An entourage of battlemechs and ground hoppers rose over the crest of a nearby hill. The sun was briefly blocked by a group of aircraft, carrying pairs of male and female gnomes. The flyers used oil-burning engines that transferred power to a spinning blade at the nose of each vehicle.
Gearzon was the first to get to his feet and he trotted toward the land-faring machines as the flyers turned for another pass. The ground hoppers stopped a few yards before the engineer. Gnomes wearing gloves and goggles like Gearzon’s drove the biped creations.
“Hi, Gearz! Long time no see. What’ve you been up to that kept you from Tinkerburg so long?”
A female gnome addressed the engineer from her seat atop a ground hopper.
“Greetings, Galatia. The spatial rifts created by the Summoners in Arkadia captured me. These are my friends.”
Gearzon introduced The Watcher, Ben and Bjorn.
“Quite a bit of turmoil has taken place throughout Gaea in recent months, Galatia. A Planar War has come to a head. I think it wise that we travel to Tinkerburg and meet with the Mayor. I’m glad to see that your machines are operational.”
“Yes, we’ve come a long way since the war with the stone trolls,” the female gnome said. “Their invasions left many of our enterprises in ruins. The gnomes have remained diligent and rebuilt much of what there once was.”
“I have an idea, Gearzon. Allow me to signal Axel and his fleet of flyers. They will land on this beach and let their copilots disembark. That way you four can fly to the city ahead of us.”
“Sounds great, Galatia. It will benefit the gnomes if we deliver our message as soon as possible.”
“In one of those contraptions you wish us to ride? Not sure I am of their safety,” declared The Watcher.
“Trust me, Aged Friend,” said Gearz. “My kindred are superb technicians and will convey us to the city with care.”
“Whatever you say, Gearz. We might as well give your friends a try,” offered Bjorn.
Galatia drew a long, white scarf from her tool vest and unfurled it in the wind. She waved it in a signal pattern until she caught the attention of the flyers. The pilots turned their vehicles from the sea and brought them down to a halt on the grassy field.
A stocky gnome leapt from a flyer and strode over to the place where the ground hoppers and battlemechs had stopped.
“Galatia, I see you’ve met some visitors on the beach. Gearzon, how are you?”
The robust gnome grabbed Gearz in a hearty embrace.
“I’m fine, Axel. I was trapped by some wizards for a while.”
“Well, its great that you made it back to us. We were wondering what happened to you. The wolf creatures and goblins have been making a nuisance of themselves in the outlying villages.”
“The Lykanthros have also appeared at Wood’s End in Mystic Down,” Bjorn replied.
“You have much to discuss with the Mayor, Gearz. Let’s be on our way,” Galatia said.
The copilots riding in the rear seats of four of the flyers jumped to the ground and climbed aboard a group of waiting battlemechs. The rumbling, three-legged vehicles belched steam as their engines thrust into forward gear.
The four travelers followed the lead of Axel. Each took a seat in the rear spaces in the flyers. Gearzon’s burly friend pulled his goggles over his eyes and signaled his fleet to take off. The propellers of the aircraft whirled at a fast rate as their oil-burning engines whined into lift off.
The Watcher moaned with apprehension as his female pilot pulled her flyer sharply upward. The winged machine turned over the sea and continued to climb.
“An unnatural state this is,” said the halfling historian. “If meant to fly we were, born with wings we would have been.”
The waves of the sea crashed on the shore below and the trees of the forest whipped by at a dazzling speed.
Gearzon hooted with glee.
“This is wonderful. I always wanted to ride in one of your inventions, Axel.”
“I love it,” said the pilot. “We got these craft going earlier this year and they’ve been running like a charm ever since. I have plans to set up a network of message carriers to all the Regions of Gaea someday. That will have to wait until we’ve dealt with the marauding orcs, however.”
The clock tower and minarets of Tinkerburg rose on the horizon. Axel thrust his flyer to the head of the formation and brought his craft to landing altitude. A crude airstrip was leveled out of a field outside of the city. A gathering of gnome children cheered at the approach of the vehicles.
The Watcher sighed with relief as the fliers landed smoothly, leaving trails of dust in the air behind them. The passengers jumped to the ground. A number of ground hoppers harvested apples from a nearby orchard.
“Let’s hurry into the city, My Friends,” declared Axel. “There is always plenty of business taking place in the market. We’d be wise to be on our way while the sun is still with us.”
A pair of battlemechs guarded the gates of the city. The travelers passed within and were immersed in a crowd of gnomes. The streets were zigzagged and intersected at random points. Merchants and shoppers mashed together under an army of multicolored tents and booths. They sold everything from melons and smoked meats to clocks and ground hoppers. Instead of horses the short-statured gnomes preferred llamas as their beasts of burden.
The air was replete with the smells of cooking food and curing leather. Ben Frostberry and Bjorn moved in and out of the crowd, making sure to sample unwanted morsels.
Axel and Galatia led the group of humanoids past the marketplace to the bureaucratic district. The Watcher beheld rows of brick and wood buildings, most of which were in a state of remodeling. Scaffolding surrounded the majority of the structures. Gnome workers dismantled walls in some places and constructed fresh ones in others.
“At last, we are here, Halflings,” said Galatia. “Across this square is our City Hall. It is the crowning achievement of gnome architecture.”
Bjorn observed a large, bronze fountain, portraying what must have been the Founders of Tinkerburg. The statues each worked on some device. One held a sundial and another a telescope. They all stood with expressions of vision and diligence.
At the opposite end of the square stood a wide building. It was three stories tall and had dozens of windows on each floor. The corners of the roof held towers that were topped with colorful minarets. Over the center of the building arched a bronze dome with an arched window at each of the four points of the compass. The travelers marched up the staircase at the entrance and spoke to the guards at the front desk.
“Hello,” said Axel, “my friends and I are here to speak with the Mayor. Is he available? Their message is important. I’ll vouch for that.”
“Very well, Axel,” replied a guard. “You have done well in your research of flying machines. The Mayor has stated his appreciation of your endeavor. You and your companions may proceed within.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Axel replied.
The capable gnome engineer directed his friends to follow him into the central Council Chamber. Bjorn helped the pilot to open a pair of large, wooden doors so that the humanoids could march inside.
The council floor was covered with polished, wood seats. A well-dressed gnome wearing spectacles was finishing a speech to the room, which was about two-thirds full with representatives. When he finished the audience applauded, some more vigorously than others.
Axel approached the podium and spoke in hushed tones with the Mayor. The gray-haired Leader glanced over the engineer’s shoulder and gazed at the group of travelers. His bushy eyebrows lifted with recognition when he saw Galatia and Gearzon. The outgoing gnome hurried over to the group as the delegates filed out of the spacious chamber.
“Galatia! Gearzon! It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you two. You’ve been keeping yourselves busy I suppose. I haven’t met your halfling acquaintances before. Allow me to introduce myself to them. My name is Miles Davenport.”
The gnome shook hands with each of the travelers and they said their names in turn.
“Miles, there is growing conflict with the orcs and goblins in the Arkadian mountains,” said Gearzon. “At first they worked at the behest of the Dire Queen, Ankharet and the daemon, Guardon. Now they follow what remains of the Guild of Assassins known as the Harad Ghul. For some time I was trapped in Guardon’s Plane and aided residents of the other Regions of Gaea in sending him and his father to the Plane of Chaos.”
“Ankharet and her assistant Summoner, Themistokles have been destroyed. The Lykanthros and orcs are sure to be reorganizing their forces and are bound to turn south to Tinkerburg. You should order the battlemechs and ground hoppers to the perimeter of the city in the event of a full-scale attack.”
“Your words confirm the information conveyed by farmers and other travelers,” replied Miles. “There are growing movements of the wolf creatures. They have already destroyed some of our crops and ranches. I will issue a request to you, Axel, with copies delivered to all of the Gnome Council Delegates. We are in need of more battlemechs and flyers. They will better protect our citizens and capitol.”
“Very well, Miles,” answered Axel. “With additional hands I’m sure we will better defend Tinkerburg.”
“Now, before we attend to any further business, let us partake of a state dinner in commemoration of your return, Gearz.”
“Sounds great,” said Bjorn. “I could use a solid meal.”
“You are all welcome to stay in the inn across the square. Get some rest and return here this evening.”
The visitors shook hands with the Mayor and strode from the large room. Axel led The Watcher and the others to a sturdy, brick building across from the clock tower. The concierge took their names down in his book and they went to their separate lodgings. The travelers reclined on the stuffed quilts and got a few hours of sleep. They were roused that evening by porters and donned their best clothes for the state dinner.
The guards in the lobby of the City Hall again let Gearzon and his friends proceed inside. They were directed to a neighboring reception room with wood floors and walls. A group of gnome musicians played unique music from a dulcimer, harpsichord and oboes.
Miles Davenport recognized his friends when they arrived and excused himself from the group of gnomes with whom he was chatting.
“Ah, I’m glad you’ve joined us, Gearzon and Halflings. I hope you enjoy our bustling City in the South.”
“Yes, active and industrious this population is,” The Watcher said.
Miles directed his companions to sit at his side at the head of the main table. They were served a savory repast of roast doves and squash. Everyone dug into the food with relish. As dessert was served the Mayor stood and addressed the crowd.
“Fellow Gnomes, I have asked that you assemble here today due to the arrival of Gearzon and his halfling acquaintances. Their report confirms our suspicions. The goblins and orcs are continuing to build their forces against us. We must prepare for I fear that their attacks are bound to increase over the coming months…”
A bass rumbling shook the building. The candle lamps and chandeliers swung from the force of the shock. Several guards ran into the room and addressed the Mayor.
“Mayor, the orcs are here, and in greater numbers than before,” said a guard. “The battlemechs have withdrawn into the city and continue to fight. You must prepare yourselves for combat.”
The gnomes rose from their seats and hastened to the various exits. The travelers grouped together and ran out the main entrance of the City Hall. A battlemech and some gnomes fought with a battalion of orcs against the large building. The steam-powered machine was pushed back against the wall of the hall. It had broken the wood panels on the outside and was the source of the rumbling within.
Volleys of incendiary missiles flew over the walls of the city, igniting booths in the marketplace and spraying fire over the streets.
“The goblins are using catapults,” said Gearzon. “We also have such war machines but will take time to prepare them.”
Bjorn watched a gathering of gnomes open the doors of what he had taken to be a livery stable. They wheeled out a trio of catapults and armed them with packages of spiked steel balls. The industrious gnomes turned the cranks on the machines in pairs, pulling back the large arms. A gnome Sergeant did not hesitate and ordered his soldiers.
“Fire at will!”
The gnome catapults unleashed their burdens of steel and the balls dispersed in the air as they flew over the city wall. The Watcher heard guttural cries as many of the missiles struck their intended targets.
Axel was anxious and addressed his companions.
“Galatia and I must get in the air and survey the resources of the enemy. I must depart, My Friends. We thank you for your information.”
The male and female gnome engineers ran from the group and headed toward the makeshift airstrip.
Gearzon and the three halflings made their way through the ruckus on the streets of Tinkerburg. Brigades of gnomes passed buckets of water from wells to extinguish the random fires.
Ben observed that one of the two gates to the city had been opened and a group of ground hoppers and battlemechs joined with citizens to fight the invading orcs in hand-to-hand combat.
Gearzon addressed his friends.
“I must help my people. You halflings should march to Mystic Down and give word to Lord Taliesin that the agents of the Harad Ghul are still on the move. We will hold and await reinforcement from the trolls at Wood’s End.”
The stout gnome drew his wrenches from his tool belt and hurried into the melee.
“Don’t worry, Gearz!” yelled Bjorn. “We’ll be back with Lord Taliesin as soon as we can.”
The halflings drew their dark cloaks about their faces in order to avoid detection by the aggressive attackers. They sprinted alongside the grappling warriors and ran into the fields beyond. Ben noticed Loki among the Lykanthros and Stalactite Orcs that slashed and growled at the gnomes.
Once out of the line of sight behind a cluster of bushes Ben spoke to The Watcher and Bjorn.
“We must retrace our steps and deliver the news of this attack on Tinkerburg. The gnomes are resourceful and will hold their own for a while. Let us go as fast as we can. Taliesin and Bors will know what to do.”
The halflings traveled through the night and drew near to Wood’s End by the afternoon of the following day.
***
Oxholm and Drumtone patrolled the tunnels beyond the settlement of the Maegar Dwarves.
“Alas, a challenge this plane has become since our arrival here from Gaea, Brother,” said Oxholm.
“I agree,” Drumtone answered. “I regret the absence of the warriors of the neighboring races. They fought valiantly and did well to turn the red dragon and his servants. Despite their absence we should remain on the lookout for lingering wolf creatures and beholders that assuredly prowl these passages.”
The dwarves continued their march along the outside perimeter of the tunnels and caverns mined by their clan. They entered a large cave and saw a gathering of Stalactite Orcs, goblins, two beholders and a minotaur.
They feasted on mysterious meat that they tore at as it turned on a spit over a roaring fire. The goblins snarled when they saw the dwarves and drew their scimitars. The minotaur held a giant war hammer and the two beholders screeched with alarm and rose into the air. The eyes of the spherical beasts fluctuated a variety of colors.
“Flee from us, Persistent Dwarves!” said an orc. “These caves yet belong to the Harad Ghul and those for whom they fight.”
“We will not, Hobgoblin,” replied Drumtone. “The dwarves have already fled from your invasions in our Realm of Origin. If you insist on delivering our fight here then you will have it.”
The dwarf brothers charged. Oxholm whirled his axe and Drumtone swung his hammer. They obliterated four of the goblins immediately with flurried strikes. The minotaur brought his large hammer down to crush the fighters but was too slow. The agile dwarves rolled to the left and right, evading the bull troll’s attack.
The pair of beholders emitted scalding rays from their antennae. The dwarves were quick on their feet and again dodged the attack. The Maegar Dwarves rolled under the beholders and thrust their weapons upward into their rock-like flesh. Their steel broke deep into the gorgons, showering the dwarves in green blood. The beholders moaned in agony and slumped on top of the warriors like squeezed fruit.
Drumtone and Oxholm pulled themselves free of the gore and contended with the minotaur. The horn-headed anthromorph was not fast enough and was dealt powerful strikes to the legs and torso. He fell to his knees and was finished off by Oxholm’s axe.
The goblins and orcs gasped at the deaths of the larger creatures and fled from the cavern.
“We shall return,” one of them cried.
“Ah, we are victorious, My Brother,” declared Oxholm. “Let us return to the settlement and inform King Grumbold of this growing activity. It seems that our clan has its work cut out for it despite our moving to the Gorgon Plane.”
The brothers embraced and returned from whence they came.
***
Lord Taliesin sat uneasily on his gargoyle-etched throne. The wind blew eerily past the windows of his Tower, at times sounding like ghostly voices.
I am concerned for Gaea, he thought.
The troll found respite in patrolling the kennels in the cellar of his Tower. The wolves were energetic and howled when he entered the hall adjoining their cages.
The trolls and troll women that resided within his fortress were appreciative of Taliesin’s reticence. He seldom chatted with the citizens of Mystic Down. They understood his silence and were cognizant of his support of their tasks.
The Liege Lord also found solace in updating his journal. Since the passing of his parents he took it upon himself to document the events that occurred throughout the Region with diligence.
The spatial portals generated by Ankharet and Guardon were dangerous, Taliesin thought. It remains to be seen what ill will arise from their maverick sorcery. I fear for Umihito and Tinkerburg as well.
Someone rapped on the door outside the Throne Room.
“Enter, please,” said the Lord.
Bors, Torvald and Rodnik entered Taliesin’s Chamber and shook hands.
“Greetings, Rodnik, Bors and son. What news do you bring from Wood’s End?”
“The goblins and orcs continue to attack us, Taliesin,” Torvald declared. “We have no choice but to assemble a garrison of warriors to quell the invaders. Before you arrived I was forced to fight the humanoids in the streets of Wood’s End.”
“Alas, I feared the goblins would return again,” said the Liege Lord. “They were not appreciative of the tyranny of the Dire Queen any more than we. Since her downfall they have reunited and are now moving aggressively once more. Let us ride to Coermantyr and advise the Baroness of these events. The invasions concern her Region, too.”
The fighters trod down the stairs of Taliesin’s Tower and acquired fresh mounts from the stable. Their saddlebags were laden with supplies and they set forth to Coermantyr.
By evening they approached The Wolf’s Fang and the gothic spires of Coermantyr Castle. Lord Taliesin and his companions tethered their horses to the post at the front porch of the inn and walked inside. The tavern was filled with gossiping citizens and soldiers loyal to the Baroness. Bors leaned against the counter and spoke to Gilead, the Innkeeper.
“Greetings, Gilead. Bring some ale for us, if you please. We are the bearers of bad news, unfortunately.”
“I feared as much, Sturdy Bors,” replied the Key Mage.
He placed a pitcher of ale with three mugs on the counter.
The visitors sipped their drinks. Torvald next spoke with Gilead.
“Before you fighters returned from the Nether Planes Wood’s End was accosted by goblins and orcs. They are on the move once again. You must inform the Baroness that we should return to Arkadia and convince the invaders to leave our Regions free of harassment.”
At that moment Ben Frostberry, Bjorn and The Watcher entered the inn.
“Thank goodness. We’re glad to see you all,” Ben said. “We sought you at Bard’s Inn but the patrons told us you had ridden here.”
“There is trouble in Tinkerburg,” continued the halfling. “We hiked there with Gearzon. Loki and the Stalactite Orcs are laying siege to the city as I speak. The Harad Ghul separated themselves over Gaea and are mobilizing against us at multiple locations.”
“This is ominous news,” said Gilead. “You warriors wait here. I will speak with Sharon directly and return. I’m sure that she’ll agree that we should ride this night and take our feud directly to the source at the Abyssal Cairn in Arkadia.”
The visitors to the Wolf’s Fang rested for a while and tasted the simple fare that was served in the establishment. The Baroness of Coermantyr entered the tavern, dressed in full armor. Gilead, her Key Mage, stood at her side.
(CONTINUED IN ORDER & CHAOS pt. 17)
A number of forms that The Watcher had taken to be tree stumps and branches moved eerily and rolled along the forest floor. They stood erect and assumed humanoid forms. They were dryads born from the enchanted trees of Mystic Down.
From the distant forest, blue and silver lights shone amid the trees. A battalion of male and female nymphs flew to the clearing at a rapid pace. They wore flowing robes similar to those worn by Deirdre.
Before the centipedes reached Bjorn and his friends the forest dwellers met with the perturbed centipedes. The cylindrical creatures twisted and snapped at the flying nymphs but were no match for their piercing lances and resilient shields.
From the perimeter of the clearing the dryads moved in, glaring at the beasts with angry expressions in their bark faces. Over a dozen of the centipedes latched themselves to the log-like arms and legs of the dryads. The woody humanoids howled loudly as they dragged their attackers in earthy gashes across the topsoil. Many of the tubular beings were squashed under the gnarled feet and fists of the dryads. More of them fell to the lances of Deirdre and her people.
Gearzon fired a volley of stones from his slingshot as did Bjorn and The Watcher from their slings. Their missiles hit their intended targets, breaking three maroon centipedes into two pieces that shivered and then lay still.
Ben Frostberry uttered a war cry and rushed into the clearing, hacking and slashing with his steel blade. The vexed centipedes turned their attention from the dryads and spat a barrage of green acid at the middle-aged baker. He evaded the attack deftly, tumbling across the hilly ground, but was hit in the calf by a glob of searing acid. He yelled in pain and wiped the chemical clean with a handful of grass.
The lithe halfling rolled forward and drove his weapon downward in a series of strikes, destroying three more of the farsighted centipedes. The dryads and nymphs attacked again as did Ben and his acquaintances. They finished off the remaining creatures and stood from their hiding place. Each of the travelers gave a cheer of victory.
“Hooray!”
“To our rescue you came, Wood Dwellers. Our thanks you have,” said The Watcher.
“I never realized that the south woods were so populated with entities,” observed Ben Frostberry. “We are indebted to you tree folk and nymphs for your aid. Alas, my friends and I would love to stay and visit but we must be on our way.”
“That is fine by us, Brave Halfling,” anwered a tall dryad. “Call me Woodfist. We dryads sleep much of the time but are willing to act to preserve the harmony of the forest. Deirdre, we are tired. With your permission we will return to our slumber until such time as you need us.”
“That is fine, Woodfist,” said Deirdre. “We nymphs will fly to our Hive and regenerate our natural energy there. Goodbye, Short Humanoids. We may meet again.”
“Goodbye, Deirdre,” replied Ben Frostberry.
The dryads marched from the clearing and merged within the shadows of the forest. The nymphs left trails of light through the trees as they sped into the deep woods.
“Let’s be on our way, My Companions,” said Gearzon. “Tinkerburg can’t be much farther through these thickets. If we keep a steady pace we may reach my home city by tomorrow morning.”
The halflings and gnome had keen vision and traveled through the moonlit forest through the night. They took care to march in silence and were not again accosted by hostile creatures.
As dawn broke The Watcher sniffed the air.
“Ah, close the sea is. From long ago I remember that smell.”
“Yes, Aged Friend, the gnomes are near,” Gearzon replied.
The travelers reached the southern edge of the forest of Mystic Down. They beheld a stretch of windswept coastline and the white-capped sea of Umihito beyond.
“Let us pause for some breakfast,” Ben Frostberry said. “I’m hungry.”
“That’s a good idea, Gray-bearded Friend,” the gnome engineer agreed. “Tinkerburg is a bustling metropolis and it can be hard to find succor in a convenient fashion.”
The journeyers sat down in the billowing field to a modest meal of pie and jerky. They drank water from their travel flasks.
In the midst of their breakfast, Gearzon and his allies were shaken by a tattoo of rumbling through the ground.
“Uh-oh,” said Bjorn. “This doesn’t sound good.”
An entourage of battlemechs and ground hoppers rose over the crest of a nearby hill. The sun was briefly blocked by a group of aircraft, carrying pairs of male and female gnomes. The flyers used oil-burning engines that transferred power to a spinning blade at the nose of each vehicle.
Gearzon was the first to get to his feet and he trotted toward the land-faring machines as the flyers turned for another pass. The ground hoppers stopped a few yards before the engineer. Gnomes wearing gloves and goggles like Gearzon’s drove the biped creations.
“Hi, Gearz! Long time no see. What’ve you been up to that kept you from Tinkerburg so long?”
A female gnome addressed the engineer from her seat atop a ground hopper.
“Greetings, Galatia. The spatial rifts created by the Summoners in Arkadia captured me. These are my friends.”
Gearzon introduced The Watcher, Ben and Bjorn.
“Quite a bit of turmoil has taken place throughout Gaea in recent months, Galatia. A Planar War has come to a head. I think it wise that we travel to Tinkerburg and meet with the Mayor. I’m glad to see that your machines are operational.”
“Yes, we’ve come a long way since the war with the stone trolls,” the female gnome said. “Their invasions left many of our enterprises in ruins. The gnomes have remained diligent and rebuilt much of what there once was.”
“I have an idea, Gearzon. Allow me to signal Axel and his fleet of flyers. They will land on this beach and let their copilots disembark. That way you four can fly to the city ahead of us.”
“Sounds great, Galatia. It will benefit the gnomes if we deliver our message as soon as possible.”
“In one of those contraptions you wish us to ride? Not sure I am of their safety,” declared The Watcher.
“Trust me, Aged Friend,” said Gearz. “My kindred are superb technicians and will convey us to the city with care.”
“Whatever you say, Gearz. We might as well give your friends a try,” offered Bjorn.
Galatia drew a long, white scarf from her tool vest and unfurled it in the wind. She waved it in a signal pattern until she caught the attention of the flyers. The pilots turned their vehicles from the sea and brought them down to a halt on the grassy field.
A stocky gnome leapt from a flyer and strode over to the place where the ground hoppers and battlemechs had stopped.
“Galatia, I see you’ve met some visitors on the beach. Gearzon, how are you?”
The robust gnome grabbed Gearz in a hearty embrace.
“I’m fine, Axel. I was trapped by some wizards for a while.”
“Well, its great that you made it back to us. We were wondering what happened to you. The wolf creatures and goblins have been making a nuisance of themselves in the outlying villages.”
“The Lykanthros have also appeared at Wood’s End in Mystic Down,” Bjorn replied.
“You have much to discuss with the Mayor, Gearz. Let’s be on our way,” Galatia said.
The copilots riding in the rear seats of four of the flyers jumped to the ground and climbed aboard a group of waiting battlemechs. The rumbling, three-legged vehicles belched steam as their engines thrust into forward gear.
The four travelers followed the lead of Axel. Each took a seat in the rear spaces in the flyers. Gearzon’s burly friend pulled his goggles over his eyes and signaled his fleet to take off. The propellers of the aircraft whirled at a fast rate as their oil-burning engines whined into lift off.
The Watcher moaned with apprehension as his female pilot pulled her flyer sharply upward. The winged machine turned over the sea and continued to climb.
“An unnatural state this is,” said the halfling historian. “If meant to fly we were, born with wings we would have been.”
The waves of the sea crashed on the shore below and the trees of the forest whipped by at a dazzling speed.
Gearzon hooted with glee.
“This is wonderful. I always wanted to ride in one of your inventions, Axel.”
“I love it,” said the pilot. “We got these craft going earlier this year and they’ve been running like a charm ever since. I have plans to set up a network of message carriers to all the Regions of Gaea someday. That will have to wait until we’ve dealt with the marauding orcs, however.”
The clock tower and minarets of Tinkerburg rose on the horizon. Axel thrust his flyer to the head of the formation and brought his craft to landing altitude. A crude airstrip was leveled out of a field outside of the city. A gathering of gnome children cheered at the approach of the vehicles.
The Watcher sighed with relief as the fliers landed smoothly, leaving trails of dust in the air behind them. The passengers jumped to the ground. A number of ground hoppers harvested apples from a nearby orchard.
“Let’s hurry into the city, My Friends,” declared Axel. “There is always plenty of business taking place in the market. We’d be wise to be on our way while the sun is still with us.”
A pair of battlemechs guarded the gates of the city. The travelers passed within and were immersed in a crowd of gnomes. The streets were zigzagged and intersected at random points. Merchants and shoppers mashed together under an army of multicolored tents and booths. They sold everything from melons and smoked meats to clocks and ground hoppers. Instead of horses the short-statured gnomes preferred llamas as their beasts of burden.
The air was replete with the smells of cooking food and curing leather. Ben Frostberry and Bjorn moved in and out of the crowd, making sure to sample unwanted morsels.
Axel and Galatia led the group of humanoids past the marketplace to the bureaucratic district. The Watcher beheld rows of brick and wood buildings, most of which were in a state of remodeling. Scaffolding surrounded the majority of the structures. Gnome workers dismantled walls in some places and constructed fresh ones in others.
“At last, we are here, Halflings,” said Galatia. “Across this square is our City Hall. It is the crowning achievement of gnome architecture.”
Bjorn observed a large, bronze fountain, portraying what must have been the Founders of Tinkerburg. The statues each worked on some device. One held a sundial and another a telescope. They all stood with expressions of vision and diligence.
At the opposite end of the square stood a wide building. It was three stories tall and had dozens of windows on each floor. The corners of the roof held towers that were topped with colorful minarets. Over the center of the building arched a bronze dome with an arched window at each of the four points of the compass. The travelers marched up the staircase at the entrance and spoke to the guards at the front desk.
“Hello,” said Axel, “my friends and I are here to speak with the Mayor. Is he available? Their message is important. I’ll vouch for that.”
“Very well, Axel,” replied a guard. “You have done well in your research of flying machines. The Mayor has stated his appreciation of your endeavor. You and your companions may proceed within.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Axel replied.
The capable gnome engineer directed his friends to follow him into the central Council Chamber. Bjorn helped the pilot to open a pair of large, wooden doors so that the humanoids could march inside.
The council floor was covered with polished, wood seats. A well-dressed gnome wearing spectacles was finishing a speech to the room, which was about two-thirds full with representatives. When he finished the audience applauded, some more vigorously than others.
Axel approached the podium and spoke in hushed tones with the Mayor. The gray-haired Leader glanced over the engineer’s shoulder and gazed at the group of travelers. His bushy eyebrows lifted with recognition when he saw Galatia and Gearzon. The outgoing gnome hurried over to the group as the delegates filed out of the spacious chamber.
“Galatia! Gearzon! It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you two. You’ve been keeping yourselves busy I suppose. I haven’t met your halfling acquaintances before. Allow me to introduce myself to them. My name is Miles Davenport.”
The gnome shook hands with each of the travelers and they said their names in turn.
“Miles, there is growing conflict with the orcs and goblins in the Arkadian mountains,” said Gearzon. “At first they worked at the behest of the Dire Queen, Ankharet and the daemon, Guardon. Now they follow what remains of the Guild of Assassins known as the Harad Ghul. For some time I was trapped in Guardon’s Plane and aided residents of the other Regions of Gaea in sending him and his father to the Plane of Chaos.”
“Ankharet and her assistant Summoner, Themistokles have been destroyed. The Lykanthros and orcs are sure to be reorganizing their forces and are bound to turn south to Tinkerburg. You should order the battlemechs and ground hoppers to the perimeter of the city in the event of a full-scale attack.”
“Your words confirm the information conveyed by farmers and other travelers,” replied Miles. “There are growing movements of the wolf creatures. They have already destroyed some of our crops and ranches. I will issue a request to you, Axel, with copies delivered to all of the Gnome Council Delegates. We are in need of more battlemechs and flyers. They will better protect our citizens and capitol.”
“Very well, Miles,” answered Axel. “With additional hands I’m sure we will better defend Tinkerburg.”
“Now, before we attend to any further business, let us partake of a state dinner in commemoration of your return, Gearz.”
“Sounds great,” said Bjorn. “I could use a solid meal.”
“You are all welcome to stay in the inn across the square. Get some rest and return here this evening.”
The visitors shook hands with the Mayor and strode from the large room. Axel led The Watcher and the others to a sturdy, brick building across from the clock tower. The concierge took their names down in his book and they went to their separate lodgings. The travelers reclined on the stuffed quilts and got a few hours of sleep. They were roused that evening by porters and donned their best clothes for the state dinner.
The guards in the lobby of the City Hall again let Gearzon and his friends proceed inside. They were directed to a neighboring reception room with wood floors and walls. A group of gnome musicians played unique music from a dulcimer, harpsichord and oboes.
Miles Davenport recognized his friends when they arrived and excused himself from the group of gnomes with whom he was chatting.
“Ah, I’m glad you’ve joined us, Gearzon and Halflings. I hope you enjoy our bustling City in the South.”
“Yes, active and industrious this population is,” The Watcher said.
Miles directed his companions to sit at his side at the head of the main table. They were served a savory repast of roast doves and squash. Everyone dug into the food with relish. As dessert was served the Mayor stood and addressed the crowd.
“Fellow Gnomes, I have asked that you assemble here today due to the arrival of Gearzon and his halfling acquaintances. Their report confirms our suspicions. The goblins and orcs are continuing to build their forces against us. We must prepare for I fear that their attacks are bound to increase over the coming months…”
A bass rumbling shook the building. The candle lamps and chandeliers swung from the force of the shock. Several guards ran into the room and addressed the Mayor.
“Mayor, the orcs are here, and in greater numbers than before,” said a guard. “The battlemechs have withdrawn into the city and continue to fight. You must prepare yourselves for combat.”
The gnomes rose from their seats and hastened to the various exits. The travelers grouped together and ran out the main entrance of the City Hall. A battlemech and some gnomes fought with a battalion of orcs against the large building. The steam-powered machine was pushed back against the wall of the hall. It had broken the wood panels on the outside and was the source of the rumbling within.
Volleys of incendiary missiles flew over the walls of the city, igniting booths in the marketplace and spraying fire over the streets.
“The goblins are using catapults,” said Gearzon. “We also have such war machines but will take time to prepare them.”
Bjorn watched a gathering of gnomes open the doors of what he had taken to be a livery stable. They wheeled out a trio of catapults and armed them with packages of spiked steel balls. The industrious gnomes turned the cranks on the machines in pairs, pulling back the large arms. A gnome Sergeant did not hesitate and ordered his soldiers.
“Fire at will!”
The gnome catapults unleashed their burdens of steel and the balls dispersed in the air as they flew over the city wall. The Watcher heard guttural cries as many of the missiles struck their intended targets.
Axel was anxious and addressed his companions.
“Galatia and I must get in the air and survey the resources of the enemy. I must depart, My Friends. We thank you for your information.”
The male and female gnome engineers ran from the group and headed toward the makeshift airstrip.
Gearzon and the three halflings made their way through the ruckus on the streets of Tinkerburg. Brigades of gnomes passed buckets of water from wells to extinguish the random fires.
Ben observed that one of the two gates to the city had been opened and a group of ground hoppers and battlemechs joined with citizens to fight the invading orcs in hand-to-hand combat.
Gearzon addressed his friends.
“I must help my people. You halflings should march to Mystic Down and give word to Lord Taliesin that the agents of the Harad Ghul are still on the move. We will hold and await reinforcement from the trolls at Wood’s End.”
The stout gnome drew his wrenches from his tool belt and hurried into the melee.
“Don’t worry, Gearz!” yelled Bjorn. “We’ll be back with Lord Taliesin as soon as we can.”
The halflings drew their dark cloaks about their faces in order to avoid detection by the aggressive attackers. They sprinted alongside the grappling warriors and ran into the fields beyond. Ben noticed Loki among the Lykanthros and Stalactite Orcs that slashed and growled at the gnomes.
Once out of the line of sight behind a cluster of bushes Ben spoke to The Watcher and Bjorn.
“We must retrace our steps and deliver the news of this attack on Tinkerburg. The gnomes are resourceful and will hold their own for a while. Let us go as fast as we can. Taliesin and Bors will know what to do.”
The halflings traveled through the night and drew near to Wood’s End by the afternoon of the following day.
***
Oxholm and Drumtone patrolled the tunnels beyond the settlement of the Maegar Dwarves.
“Alas, a challenge this plane has become since our arrival here from Gaea, Brother,” said Oxholm.
“I agree,” Drumtone answered. “I regret the absence of the warriors of the neighboring races. They fought valiantly and did well to turn the red dragon and his servants. Despite their absence we should remain on the lookout for lingering wolf creatures and beholders that assuredly prowl these passages.”
The dwarves continued their march along the outside perimeter of the tunnels and caverns mined by their clan. They entered a large cave and saw a gathering of Stalactite Orcs, goblins, two beholders and a minotaur.
They feasted on mysterious meat that they tore at as it turned on a spit over a roaring fire. The goblins snarled when they saw the dwarves and drew their scimitars. The minotaur held a giant war hammer and the two beholders screeched with alarm and rose into the air. The eyes of the spherical beasts fluctuated a variety of colors.
“Flee from us, Persistent Dwarves!” said an orc. “These caves yet belong to the Harad Ghul and those for whom they fight.”
“We will not, Hobgoblin,” replied Drumtone. “The dwarves have already fled from your invasions in our Realm of Origin. If you insist on delivering our fight here then you will have it.”
The dwarf brothers charged. Oxholm whirled his axe and Drumtone swung his hammer. They obliterated four of the goblins immediately with flurried strikes. The minotaur brought his large hammer down to crush the fighters but was too slow. The agile dwarves rolled to the left and right, evading the bull troll’s attack.
The pair of beholders emitted scalding rays from their antennae. The dwarves were quick on their feet and again dodged the attack. The Maegar Dwarves rolled under the beholders and thrust their weapons upward into their rock-like flesh. Their steel broke deep into the gorgons, showering the dwarves in green blood. The beholders moaned in agony and slumped on top of the warriors like squeezed fruit.
Drumtone and Oxholm pulled themselves free of the gore and contended with the minotaur. The horn-headed anthromorph was not fast enough and was dealt powerful strikes to the legs and torso. He fell to his knees and was finished off by Oxholm’s axe.
The goblins and orcs gasped at the deaths of the larger creatures and fled from the cavern.
“We shall return,” one of them cried.
“Ah, we are victorious, My Brother,” declared Oxholm. “Let us return to the settlement and inform King Grumbold of this growing activity. It seems that our clan has its work cut out for it despite our moving to the Gorgon Plane.”
The brothers embraced and returned from whence they came.
***
Lord Taliesin sat uneasily on his gargoyle-etched throne. The wind blew eerily past the windows of his Tower, at times sounding like ghostly voices.
I am concerned for Gaea, he thought.
The troll found respite in patrolling the kennels in the cellar of his Tower. The wolves were energetic and howled when he entered the hall adjoining their cages.
The trolls and troll women that resided within his fortress were appreciative of Taliesin’s reticence. He seldom chatted with the citizens of Mystic Down. They understood his silence and were cognizant of his support of their tasks.
The Liege Lord also found solace in updating his journal. Since the passing of his parents he took it upon himself to document the events that occurred throughout the Region with diligence.
The spatial portals generated by Ankharet and Guardon were dangerous, Taliesin thought. It remains to be seen what ill will arise from their maverick sorcery. I fear for Umihito and Tinkerburg as well.
Someone rapped on the door outside the Throne Room.
“Enter, please,” said the Lord.
Bors, Torvald and Rodnik entered Taliesin’s Chamber and shook hands.
“Greetings, Rodnik, Bors and son. What news do you bring from Wood’s End?”
“The goblins and orcs continue to attack us, Taliesin,” Torvald declared. “We have no choice but to assemble a garrison of warriors to quell the invaders. Before you arrived I was forced to fight the humanoids in the streets of Wood’s End.”
“Alas, I feared the goblins would return again,” said the Liege Lord. “They were not appreciative of the tyranny of the Dire Queen any more than we. Since her downfall they have reunited and are now moving aggressively once more. Let us ride to Coermantyr and advise the Baroness of these events. The invasions concern her Region, too.”
The fighters trod down the stairs of Taliesin’s Tower and acquired fresh mounts from the stable. Their saddlebags were laden with supplies and they set forth to Coermantyr.
By evening they approached The Wolf’s Fang and the gothic spires of Coermantyr Castle. Lord Taliesin and his companions tethered their horses to the post at the front porch of the inn and walked inside. The tavern was filled with gossiping citizens and soldiers loyal to the Baroness. Bors leaned against the counter and spoke to Gilead, the Innkeeper.
“Greetings, Gilead. Bring some ale for us, if you please. We are the bearers of bad news, unfortunately.”
“I feared as much, Sturdy Bors,” replied the Key Mage.
He placed a pitcher of ale with three mugs on the counter.
The visitors sipped their drinks. Torvald next spoke with Gilead.
“Before you fighters returned from the Nether Planes Wood’s End was accosted by goblins and orcs. They are on the move once again. You must inform the Baroness that we should return to Arkadia and convince the invaders to leave our Regions free of harassment.”
At that moment Ben Frostberry, Bjorn and The Watcher entered the inn.
“Thank goodness. We’re glad to see you all,” Ben said. “We sought you at Bard’s Inn but the patrons told us you had ridden here.”
“There is trouble in Tinkerburg,” continued the halfling. “We hiked there with Gearzon. Loki and the Stalactite Orcs are laying siege to the city as I speak. The Harad Ghul separated themselves over Gaea and are mobilizing against us at multiple locations.”
“This is ominous news,” said Gilead. “You warriors wait here. I will speak with Sharon directly and return. I’m sure that she’ll agree that we should ride this night and take our feud directly to the source at the Abyssal Cairn in Arkadia.”
The visitors to the Wolf’s Fang rested for a while and tasted the simple fare that was served in the establishment. The Baroness of Coermantyr entered the tavern, dressed in full armor. Gilead, her Key Mage, stood at her side.
(CONTINUED IN ORDER & CHAOS pt. 17)
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