An Untold Tale Tie-in of the Barona Miiri and Friends

“A son?” Miiri of Earth breathed in shock. “I have a son?”

“Yes indeedy” Dancer answered, grinning. It was after the Battle of the White Gate, and the Legionnaires had gathered in one of the few standing chambers to fill in the Caphan and the rest of her questing party on the latest news. “Handsome devil, too”

“Must take after his mother” Johnstantine noted.

“Well, yes…” the leggy brunette in the fairy godmother outfit responded. “Er… both of them, actually. But his eyes are all Vizh.”

“How… how do I have a son?” Miiri struggled to comprehend. “Do humans develop certain… features… after birth?”

“It’s all there to begin with” Ruby assured her. “Although it usually takes somewhere between a decade or two to really, er… flesh out. And even then it’s often not as impressive as they make it out to be.”

Dancer smiled encouragingly. “You don’t have a son instead of Naari, but in addition to Naari.”

Johnstantine lit a cigarette. “So the stork was havin’ a “buy one get one” sale then, luv?”

“Not exactly…” Dreamcatcher Foxglove chimed in. “As near as Al B. could hypothesize (only he used way more Reed Richardesque technobabble terms), Griffin… er, that’s your son’s name… Griffin was affected more strongly by Camellia’s curse than Naari was, so much so that his physical self was destroyed as an embryo… however, some of him hung on, and when Naari was transferred into Hallie’s virtual womb, there was an excess of data that represented Griffin’s pattern, like a residual transporter pattern on Star Trek, you see? Hallie’s program didn’t know about him, and wasn’t able to patch him back together because there was no energy left over from a body being digitized to begin with, but then she called upon the processing power of the Celestians, and being giant space robots that made Marie a banshee they apparently don’t see a physical body as all that necessary to existing, so he was recreated and continued to live, despite being immaterial and undetectable to all but Maggie… er, that’s what Naari was called in Faerie, and then eventually detectable to Vizh and Hallie, and then to everybody!” He looked at Miiri hopefully. “So… that’s how you secretly had a son and none of us even knew it. Um… got all that?”

The Caphan mother of two blinked.

“Er… Maybe we should let Xander explain how it happened” Dancer suggested.

The sorcerer supreme didn’t bother to look up from the book he was reading. “Magic” he answered.

“See?” Dancer responded brightly. “Perfectly logical.”

“Oh” Miiri replied, still dazed. “Yes.”

“They’re great kids” Trickshot assured her. “Brave ones, too. You shoulda seen the way they stood up to ol’ bristlehead Garrick… I offered to start ‘em both on archery lessons, you know. It’s a good skill for a kid… Teaches discipline, and when you’re older it never fails to impress the babes.”

“Tricky…” Dancer tried to interrupt.

“You offered to teach babies to use a bow and arrow?” Asil asked carefully.

“Well, we’re not gonna start with the explosive tips, obviously. You gotta work your way up to them. And I’d hardly call them babies, for crying out loud. They’re practically…”

“Tricky!” Dancer interrupted urgently.

“What? I’m just saying…” he paused as he took in the looks of the group that had been questing for Naari. “Oh… Jeez, I’m sorry… I forgot they don’t… Oh, crud.”

“What?” Miiri asked urgently. “What’s wrong? What did he mean, stand up to Garrick?”

Johnstantine took one look at Sarah’s face and caught on. “Oh… bloody *#@&*ing hell!” he swore, viciously kicking a piece of rubble across the room.

Dancer sighed gently, and plunged ahead with the bad news. “When Vizh and Hallie found them… Naari and Griffin… they were no longer infants. Near as we can tell, they’re both eleven years old.”

The young Caphan’s eyes widened, and her face drained of color. “How… how is that possible?”

“Magic” Xander answered again, although this time with a voice both tired and resigned.

“Damnable Faerie realms and their mucked up time” Johnstantine grumbled. “I thought we had sorted through all that with Georgie over there, but that witch Camellia’s a tricky one.”

“What?” George Gedney, keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity replied, aghast. “Did I… did I make the wrong adjustments? Asil showed me how to work the Chronometer as we passed through the gates to align time…”

Tanner growled. “Camellia of the Fey holds some mastery over her own parts of this land, and she really is a damned tricky one” he assured the young museum curator. “We were outmaneuvered. It’s not anybody’s fault.”

“Then the children…” Asil began in a sick voice. “They were held captive by Camellia for more than a decade, with nobody coming to rescue them?”

“Hey…” Trickshot interjected as he saw the pall the news was spreading over the gathering. “You have to give the kids some credit. They came through with flying colors, and looked out for each other the whole time. They were more than a match for whatever life had to throw at them.” He knelt down to look in Miiri’s eyes. “After all, they come from good stock.”

“The thing to focus on is that they’re both safe, and happy, and eager to meet their mother” Dancer assured Miiri, lifting the Caphan’s chin gently. “So let’s work on getting you all home, shall we?”

“About that…” Xander said, closing his book. “There may be one or two little… hiccups.”

A page burst in on the gathering. “My lady…” he bowed low to Miiri. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the men are assembled and waiting for you…”

The Caphan blinked, unable to process what he said. “What?”

“The armies are holding their victory rallies… After the long march and fierce fighting, they await word from you to celebrate the triumph over darkness. Words to comfort them on the loss of their brothers, and assure them that the sacrifice will always be remembered, so that they can let go and revel in being alive. Captain Arkenweald is out there right now.”

“What?” Johnstantine growled. “You came to drag her off to give a bloody speech?”

The page looked to him in bewilderment. “A celebration would not be complete without words from their beloved Barona of Perfectgaard! They’re pledging to the man to follow her to the ends of the earth!”

Tanner turned to give Xander a sour look. “One little hiccup?” he asked darkly.

“Or two” the mage replied.

Ruby Weaver stood on the shattered battlements of the White Gate and looked out over the battlefield. The moon was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a dim but stark contrast on the scattered remains of combat below.

“Grim view” a deep voice rumbled from the darkness. She felt the heat from Tanner’s body as he came up behind her, reaching out to rub his hands up and down the outside of her chilled shoulders. “Doesn’t bode well for the chance that you’re thinking happy thoughts.”

“We won the day” Ruby stated flatly. “Naari’s been rescued. The Parody Master isn’t going to be marching his goons through the Mythlands to attack Earth. It’s freaking Miller time.” She turned to look back down the battlements, where a number of Elfguard were sleeping off the celebration (not to mention the Ausgardian mead that Donar’s father had procured for them.) “Or at least it was.”

“Not happily ever after enough for you, then?” the werewolf suggested.

“With all we’ve been through, who wouldn’t be thrilled to just reach the “after” part, regardless?”

“Someone who only had the Laundry of Doom to return to?” he guessed pointedly.

She whirled to face him. “What are you implying? That I only came along to save Naari so I could earn enough karma to get out of there? That this was all so I could grab some glory, and get back in with the heroes? That I just wanted to feel like something other than a worthless traitor for once? That’d fit, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s not what I think” he answered. “But then, I’m not the one brooding on the battlements in the middle of the night.”

She grunted in frustration, and turned to look out over the field again. “Do you want to know the real kicker to all of this? It’s not that, after all we’ve been through, Vizh and Hallie rescued Naari long ago without even needing our help. No, the really funny part is what Dancer told me earlier… That my cousin Whitney came out of nowhere to be the big hero in the tale! She’s the one who protected Naari from Camellia’s forces… She’s the one who made the big heroic stand… She’s the one who’s the beloved Godmother now!”

Tanner snorted, then chuckled, and then broke out into a deep, throaty laugh. “That actually is pretty funny…” he noted.

“Well, yeah… laugh it up, fuzzball” she grumbled, punching him in the shoulder.

“Heh… Ruby, did you really think, at the end of the quest, that this story was somehow going to be about either of us?” He shook his head. “Faerie is all about the mythic, and you don’t get much more mythic than a stolen baby and a parent’s desperate chase to recover it. We were never going to be more than a bit part in the whole thing.”

“Then why even ask us to come?”

He looked out at the rising moon. “It’s the bit parts that make up the larger whole, and keep the story winding on towards the big finish.” He gave her a undecipherable look. “The question still remains, however… why did you accept Hallie’s plea for help?”

“Hallie’s plea at Cleone’s urging” she amended. “It’s not like she would have ever…” She cut off her bitter rant as he laid finger on her lips.

“I’ll tell you what I do think” he continued. “I think that, for a while now, swept up in an adventure with comrades who watched your back as you watched theirs, I think you forgot how small you used to feel… back when you were sure you were just a useless, backstabbing, opportunistic, spoiled little girl. I think you feel yourself waking up from a dream, and the old you is trying to cram your self-image back into that small and twisted shape before you open your eyes and find it never left, and that you’re still stuck at the Mr. Li’s Laundry.” He looked into her eyes. “I think you’re scared of believing you could be worthy of lasting friendships, or become anything more than a disappointment to yourself.”

A series of conflicting emotions crossed her face, until finally she settled on anger. “Well, thank you Mr. Psychoanalyst!” she growled, turning and retreating down the stairs below. “What the hell do you know about it?”

He watched her go and sighed. “I know that, when the story really is all about you, you’re going to surprise yourself like you wouldn’t believe.”

There was a knock at the door. “Come in” Miiri answered.

The brunette head of the Probability Dancer poked through the open door. “Hey there…” she greated. “I thought maybe you’d like to talk without the whole gang around. Or really, without Tricky at least. For a man with such physical precision, his tongue can kind of go astray now and then.”

The Caphan smiled ruefully, and waved the Legionnaire in, seating herself at a small table. “Would you like something to drink?” she offered, gesturing to a tray of mugs. “Until Captain Arkenweald’s expected relief wagons arrive, I’m afraid we only have water, noodles or mead.”

“Ah, no thanks. I’ve gone on the wagon until we get back. I’m pretty sure that my last cup of Ramen noodles was made with the mead, actually. It’s the only reasonable explanation for what happened with Con when we patrolled the hay loft. And then again in the empty grain stores.”

“Patrolled?” Miiri asked.

“You know… for spies” the Legionnaire explained. “I’m sure your commanders mentioned how there are always some spies that need ferreting out after a battle, and that you need to get down into the hay on your hands and knees and really root around to make sure they’re not hiding in there. And then your tutu starts to slip, and one thing leads to another…”

Miiri made a noncommittal “hmmm”. “I’ve found Mr. Johnstantine to be an… interesting travel companion. But I suppose he does have his charms…” she allowed.

“Charms? Con?” Dancer said. “Heavens no. Not a one. What kind of a woman could find that smug, roguish confidence appealing? That completely cocky swagger? That “I’m up to no good and I just dare you to catch me at it” twinkly in his eye?” She crossed her arms resolutely. “Everything about the man screams bad date material: stay far, far away. Certainly not charming. I should march right up to him and tell him so, in fact. I wonder if he’s still checking the stables…”

Miiri smiled and shrugged. “We all have our types.”

“Oh, do we now?” the Legionnaire replied, intrigued. “And what Type does a space-faring Caphan ex-pleasure slave turned Barona of a Faerie kingdom favor, hmmm?”

“It’s an honorary title” Miiri answered, dodging the question. “I am not their ruler.”

“Scuttlebutt is that their ruler is pushing up daisies” Dancer noted casually. “Asil said it couldn’t have happened to a nicer husband of yours.”

“Indeed” she answered, her eyes dark in memory.

“There’s also a rumor going around the camps that the Emerald Saint will lead Perfectgaard into a new golden age. The men out there seem to be quite willing to make the title stick. That seems to be the trouble with raising an army that would follow you to the ends of the earth, you know. Men are very slow to learn the “Sit! Stay!” commands in the best of times.”

The Saint in question twisted her crimson cloak uncomfortably. “I have had multiple captains in Perfectgaard’s honor guard offer to swear their fealty to me. It is rather… unnerving… to have men pledge themselves to you, absolutely, body and soul, unto death.”

“I wouldn’t know… my dates rarely go that well. You didn’t lock yourself in the bathroom and contemplate escape through the plumbing, did you?” the Probability Dancer teased.

Miiri sighed wryly. “Chamber pot” she noted, gesturing to the simple object in the corner. “Still, I believe I may owe Visionary an apology for trapping him in his promise.”

“Nonsense. Lisa assures me that making Vizh do the things that he’d rather chew his own arm off to avoid is a noble tradition. Plus oodles of fun.” She looked to the Caphan woman carefully. “So how did your army take the news that you’re heading home with us?”

The Caphan averted her eyes. “I… haven’t told them yet.” Standing, she walked over to the window and looked out into the moonlight and the stars above. “I wonder if any of those stars are Caph” she sighed. “Even on Earth, however, I could never see more than the star itself. The planet of my birth is much too small.”

Dancer watched the young woman and waited for her to continue.

“I barely remember my own mother, actually” Miiri said, finally. “Once weaned from the mother’s breast, a Caphan child is raised by the entire house. For a female child, a birth mother holds no more significance than any of the care sisters. For a male child, her connection is even less. My mother was a very valuable pleasure slave herself, and so she was not to be wasted in suckling and common midwifery. While I knew of her, I never had the chance to learn who she really was at heart. I never really knew her.”

“That’s awful, Miiri… I’m so sorry.”

“Is it?” she replied. “Before I became pregnant with Naari, the thought that it was had never crossed my mind. How could it? Life was what it was. But as my own child… children… grew within me, I realized that my memories of my own mother had changed. I now thought of a sadness in her eyes that I hadn’t before. I think now, perhaps, that glint was caused by the knowledge that I had no more need of her.”

Dancer frowned worriedly. “Naari and Griffin still need you.”

Miiri looked up with haunted eyes. “Do they? They have an entire house… one of the most powerful Houses in the Universe, to raise them. They have a father in Visionary, and a mother in Hallie. They have magical godmothers, and immortal protectors. They have every advantage to achieve their potential already.”

“They don’t have you, and if the Faerie Queene’s little hissy fit hadn’t bounced Vizh back to the Parodyverse, he’d be the first to tell you how much you mean to them… how much they’re dying to get to know you.” Dancer got up and crossed the room to embrace the young mother in a comforting hug. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we do things a little differently than on Caph. The mother-child relationship is something of a different beast here. It’s not just a short-term commitment.”

“I… I have no idea how to be such a mother” she confessed with fear and heartache. “I had prepared myself to suckle her as an infant, to hold her close and warm, to teach her to take her first steps and to pick her back up when she fell. Now, she has outgrown all of that, and my one chance at the motherhood I dreamed of has passed me by. I have no idea what I can provide her. Worse yet, on Caph the male children were separated from the slaves at an early age… I have no experience with boys like Griffin at all.”

“How do you feel about frogs being dropped down the back of your shorts and having your pig-tails pulled?”

The Caphan blinked. “What?”

“Nevermind. My point is just that little boys, alien though they may sometimes seem, aren’t really all that complicated… and once they’re old enough to be interested in suckling again, they’re even less complicated.”

The ex-pleasure slave snorted despite herself.

“Little boys like Griffin still need what you can provide. They still like to be held close and warm, although maybe not in front of their friends. They tend to relish taking falls and they’ll need you to help pick them back up and take them to the hospital once or twice as a result. The same often goes for little girls, actually. It makes parenthood an adventure.”

“How can I learn to be the mother they need?” Miiri asked, though a bit of hope was creeping back into her voice. “Especially as they grow older?”

“Well, there are plenty of books on the matter…” Dancer noted, “But I can run down the basics for you right now. Based on my experience, the mother’s job through the rest of her life breaks down like this:” She began ticking points off on her fingers. “Tell the children to get to bed. Tell the children to study hard. Tell the children they’re too young to date/wear make-up/etc. Tell the children not to get pregnant. And finally, tell the children to get into a good school and/or find a good career.” She smiled. “Got it so far?”

“I believe so…”

“Good, cause here’s the twist. When they hit their twenties, you flip your personality a complete 180, just to keep them guessing. Ask ‘em why they don’t make themselves more attractive. Tell them they’re spending too much time on their studies or career. Ask them why they never go out and meet anyone. Ask them when you’re finally going to get some grandchildren. Then ask that last question over and over and over and over again until either one of you dies or you break them.”

Miiri looked a little dubious. “And then..?”

“I have absolutely no idea. But on the plus side, you’ll get to find out first hand when Ma Shepherdson pays you all a visit.” She tapped the side of her jaw thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, you may want to bring a few thousand of your troops home with you. For backup.”

The Caphan drew a deep, shuddering breath. “They really still need me?”

“Like oxygen. At least, I think Griffin needs oxygen. You get the idea though.” Dancer smiled. “And besides, Hallie and Vizh need you back ASAP. Newfound parental anxiety shared is newfound parental anxiety halved. Or thirded. Or something. Math was never really my strong suit.” The Legionnaire looked at the vulnerable mother with compassion. “Besides, you owe it to yourself not to have that look of sadness haunting your eyes the rest of your life. You know as well as all the rest of us that you need Naari and Griffin desperately.”

Miiri smiled through the tears straining at the corners of her eyes. “I believe I should go and talk to the commanders of my guard…” She hugged the Legionnaire. “Thank you, Dancer… Not only are you a good friend and godmother, you are one of the wisest women I know.”

“Darn right!” Dancer encouraged her, lifting a mug of mead in toast and downing it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go check the stables for the enemy.”

Miiri raised her eyebrow. “Would you like this to use in case you find him?” she offered, holding up one of her daggers.

Dancer waved it off as she flitted through the door. “Actually, I just meant Con.”

The Caphan shook her head as the door shut. “So did I.”

Captain Arkenweald, acting commander of the defenses of the White Gate, stirred groggily from under the furs of his bed. It was obviously too good to last, he thought to himself as the knock once again sounded on his chamber door. A quick glance out the window showed the moon hanging high over the horizon, and the military part of his mind cringed at the idea that he had been asleep for at least six straight hours. He had planned to be up and preparing for the staff briefing an hour ago.

That these were the first six consecutive hours of sleep he had arranged in longer than he could count was beside the point. The immediate dangers had passed with the victory on the field, but the list of tasks that lay ahead in ensuring the security of the shattered White Gate were long, and he had yet to be relieved by a superior commander.

The third burst of knocking refocused his attentions. “Yes, one moment…” he called, struggling his injured arm painfully into his tunic. He stubbed his toe on the map table and, cursing, paused to stoke the fire in order to better light the small room. Finally, he reached the doorway and pulled it open, only to find a woman in sparse chain mail, a flowing red cloak, and an abundance of green flesh awaiting him on the other side.

“Barona Miiri?” he blinked in surprise. “I… This is… What may I do for you?”

“I… have a problem, captain” she noted softly, looking up at him. “May I come in?”

The acting commander of the Elfguard straightend his tunic and threw wide the door. “Yes, I mean, of course… “ he stammered, though whether flustered from waking or from having a half-naked saint at his door, he wasn’t sure. “Pray tell me, what is troubling you?”

The young woman warmed herself by the fire as she looked back to him. “I am concerned about my late husband’s land” she confessed. “My advisors inform me that without the Baron, Perfectgaard will rightfully be the spoils of any who manage to conquer her.”

“My lady, surely you have nothing to fear! After the army that you have summoned here to our aid, it would be folly to attack any lands of Perfectgaard that fly your banner. Few in all of Faerie could command such a host of loyal men.”

“Few but you, Captain Arkenweald” she noted offhandedly. “After the wonders of bravery you have achieved here, Zebulon’s threats of accolades were not in jest… Songs to your glory have already been composed, and could be heard being performed throughout the camps of the White Gate as I made my way here.”

“Oh bother…” The young commander smile ruefully and rubbed the back of his neck. “They weren’t terribly catchy tunes, were they?”

“The audience seemed receptive to them” Miiri shrugged modestly, which produced movement enough to distract the man from pondering origin of the songs in question. “I fear they will spread with the relocation of the refugees, and soon all of the Many Coloured Lands will know of your legend.”

“I’m not sure I deserve any such thing” the captain noted humbly. “I wasn’t looking for leadership… it just sort of found its way to me. It’s hardly the stuff of songs or heroes.”

The Caphan smiled at him warmly. “Actually, it’s at the heart of some of my favorites.”

“Songs, or heroes?”

“Both.”

The Elfguard commander shook his head and pulled out a chair for the radiant young woman. “I’m sorry… here I am going on about my embarrassment when you came to me for help with a true problem.” He placed a closed hand over his heart. “My lady, after all you have done for the troops here at the White Gate, it would be my honor to assist you.”

Miiri smiled and captured the captain’s hand, bypassing the chair he offered and leading him across the room to the window instead. “My problem, dear captain, is that the lands of Perfectgaard need a protector… but I have another path to tread.” She withdrew a bit of cloth from within her cloak and unwrapped it, producing a silver glass shard. She held it up in the air, and after a moment’s hesitation it flashed bright green and a sweeping beam of light shot out of it, through the window and towards the horizon. “There is where the end of my quest lies.”

“Your stolen child?” Captain Arkenweald asked softly, squeezing her hand in support. He wasn’t the only one whose story was being told throughout the camps.

Miiri swallowed hard, her eyes tearing up with pride. “Children. I have children.”

He looked on her lovely, hopeful face, lost as she was in the thoughts of what awaited her at the end of that lightbeam. It wasn’t hard to see how a host of men would follow her to the ends of the earth. “Anything I can grant to help you on your quest is yours” the commander offered solemnly. “Upon my word.”

She blinked and turned back to the young man, considering him carefully, then nodded. “Representing Perfectgaard, I accept.” She brushed past him and made her way to the simple bed tucked into the corner of the room beyond the maps, charts and diagrams of the White Gate’s defenses. With a practiced grace, she positioned herself on the edge of the mattress, pushing her hood back from her head and letting the cloak slip from her shoulders with a sensuous shrug. What little remained of her attire glinted in the firelight.

The Captain swallowed hard and made to pull at his collar before a pang reminded him that his arm was broken. “My… Lady?”

The slinking rattle of chain mail hitting the floor filled the chamber as the Barona Miiri smiled and sank down into the furs on the bed. “Honor demands that Perfectgaard not be surrendered to the hands of another but by conquest. Debts of honor hold great meaning to me, Captain…” she noted, eyes welcoming. “…as does holding men to their word.”

The captain nodded mutely. Perhaps there were ways to be refreshed other than sleep…

“All hail Baron Arkenweald! Conqueror of Perfectgaard! Hero of the White Gate!”

The armies assembled at the base of the battlements roared their approval as the Baron in question stood uneasily upon the remains of the wall and waved, flanked by Miiri, resplendent as the sun shone off of her chain mail, and by the royal Ausgardians Donar and Annj in their battle finest.

“Well, that’s an endorsement most elected officials would kill for” Johnstantine noted as the rest of the party looked up at the assembly. “You’d have to be suicidal to argue the validity of the former Captain’s new title with the backing of friends like those.”

“Yes. The Faerie Queene will be ever so happy to hear the role of Magweed’s mother in generously deciding to grant it to him” Xander noted.

Tanner snorted. “Are we particularly worried about the Queene’s happiness levels?”

“I’m not” Xander replied. “But then, I don’t plan on being here when she finds out.”

“So what made Miiri decide that this Arkenweald guy could be trusted with Perfectgaard?” Ruby asked. “I might be biased, but after the last one, I think the place could stand to go Baron free for a few millennia.”

Asil looked up at the man in question. “Miiri says that he’s a good man… kind and caring… humble in the mantle of leadership, but with the soul of a hero.”

Johnstantine snorted derisively. “I guess everyone has a type.”

“I have no idea what you mean” Dancer assured him briskly, then turned to glance at George, who was reaching for her.

“Er… sorry…” he noted. “You seem to have a bit of straw in your hair…”

“So we’re heading back?” Asil asked eagerly. “All of us?”

“All of us” Dancer agreed.

“Yes, about that…” Xander noted. “There’s still a little bit of a hiccup with the way you all got here.”

Tanner frowned. “Just how big of a hiccup?”

“Nothing too horrendous, honest” He assured them. “After all, there are plenty of gates to and from the Mythlands. Opening them merely requires going forth and finding the right keys to do so.”

“Going…” Ruby began, the truth dawning on her. “Wait a minute… Do you mean we have to complete another freakin’ quest!?”

“Or two” Xander replied. “Sometimes the gates have combination locks.” He pulled out a well-worn tome and flipped to an earmarked page. “So… what do people feel like? If you travel to the fire caverns of Xarrel, you can receive Grimhold’s Lexicon in exchange for painting an accurate portrait of the Gorgon of the Lake... she's an art lover. In the Lexicon, you could find out how to reunite the fire sprite prince of Gfflyn with his nixe love of the western brooke. She carries Eilonwy’s scissors, which could be used to cut the iron threads of the Aoden spider...”

“This is turning out to be the best mission ever!” CrazySugarFreakBoy! noted enthusiastically as the rest of the party groaned. He pulled a bag of multi-sided dice out of his jerkin. “Everybody roll for initiative!”

the end.

Next: We got back to tie into Untold Tales #293 and visit with a virtual Visionary, an angry Fleabot, and a dispirited Hallie in the wake of the Robo Sapien tragedy.

Post By Visionary Sun Oct 29, 2006 at 07:46:52 pm EST	Subject An Untold Tale Tie-in of the Barona Miiri and Friends

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