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Ch: 1 A girl and her money Gang aft Angly

(Remember to tip your server, lest they tip themselves!)

She bounced from table to table. Not literally, but the effect was

quite similar to that of a children's ball hitting random rocks or

posts in a field, though in this case she kept going back to one

big rock, namely the main bar front of the tavern where she was working.

It galled her that she needed to work, but the alternative...

'No, we work' she reminded herself. It ran counter to everything she

knew to be true in life, but for some reason those around her kept

insisting that she needed to actually put forth effort. The hunters,

When she had trained with them. The Warriors, the fifth of a day she

had been assigned to them. The Healers, Cooks, even the camp cleaners

had all felt that she was not putting forth enough effort. The only

group that had felt she was putting to much effort into the task at

hand was...

"Here's your order! Anything Else!?!" she said, a little to sharply

as she all but slammed the tray down on the table of the merchant

and his town contacts. She took a half step back, closed her eyes,

And took a cleansing breath. Held for four beats, and gave the

shocked party her best friendly smile(Remember the EYES!), and turned

to face the bar. Karl's expression was fairly grim, but he indicated

both the tray on the bar top, and held up first one then four fingers.

Section one, table Four, seemed to have sent an order up by first

available server.

She turned her head, and cursed for the N'th time her short goblin

stature. But she spotted the carved numerals in the base of the

table, as well as the openly worn swords and daggers which was all

she could see of the group through the crowded room. Caravan Guards,

possibly from more than one caravan, here to discuss redistribution

of manpower or something...

Having assured herself that she could get the large tray of meats

and cheese to the table, she turned her attention back to the bar,

And spotted her mark.

He was fairly large, male, gray, black, and cream from what she

could see of where his clothes did not cover him, had what looked

like an armored sleeve and gauntlet on his right arm, and he had

spent the last week or so moving around town spending gold freely

while holding onto any silver or copper he got like a drowning man

would a rope, branch or barrel.

She had first spotted him a week previous, when she was out observing

an very important goblin holy day, Mibakis'Brok, which nine out of

ten of her human employers over the past few years would just accept

as a real holy day, and not just assume she wanted to scuff off work

for a day. The tenth would insist on taking a look at her actual back,

Which she could normally use to her advantage by getting some extra

cash. After some 'Effort', of course.

She had followed him at first out of boredom, given that she was known

in this town, and most of the people believed that she really was out

doing her part on some obscure goblin holy day, so she could not risk

going into any of the other entertainment establishments, not that there

were many aimed at women, and the few that were had barred her months

back.

Plotting her inevitable revenge against Madam Fro's Rental Dance Hall,

She almost missed where the large, raccoon like man, with a sturdy pack,

walked into the customer vestibule of the Glass Blowers hall. She Hurried

over to the open window next to it, and knelt on the ground below.

She grabbed her religious 'Icon'(a small doll, made from beans, linen,

a swatch of Madam Fro's dress, and a lock of her hair) and started moving

her mouth while repeatedly jamming her nails into the doll's 'Eyes'.

As she was not actually praying, she could here the raccoon man place a

fairly large order for very specifically sized glass jugs, bottles,

assorted flasks...

She almost dropped the Fro doll when she herd him ask if they took gold

placer nuggets, followed by him asking whereabout in town he might get them

converted to cash, and would they mind holding on his order until then.

She followed him the rest of the day, listening as he talked to the Assayer,

From whose office he emerged, holding two mid-sized pouches, and standing

somewhat straighter, and followed him further to The Brewers guild, a couple

of independent Moonshiners, the Bakers Guild...

And made herself scarce when he walked into the tavern where she worked.

But from what she had heard at the other places around town, she knew he was

getting ready to sell her boss something, and would be back in a week.

A whole week. She started planning it then and there. She had just enough extra

set aside, from unofficial 'Extras' she had put up with, and she knew just

which two of the 'Doves' on the staff would be up for a paid catfight.

Of course, if either one though she had paid the other, the price would go up,

but the distraction would assure that every guy in the place would be paying

attention to them, betting on the outcome, calling out encouragement...

And not paying attention to the short green girl making her way through the

room, at waist level, just trying to get back to the bar area, where two golden

eggs would be waiting...

She picked up the other thing waiting for her at the bar, and Karl Humphed at

her. She watched as he pointed to first his eyes, then the room, and shuffled

back a bit like she was nervous as he first held up two fingers, and then

drummed them on the edge of the tray.

'Let him warn her', she though, as he turned back to doing business with the

raccoon. She was moments away from being out of here forever, with enough gold

to keep her in food and drink for the next few years.

She picked up the indicated tray, looking sufficiently downcast as she made

her way over to Section 1, Table 4, and placed it on the table. She made a

show of gratitude (Eyes on patron, half shut, try to look like you are

tearing up...) just as everyone in the room turned to the sound of the sudden

floor show.

No time to watch Tracy and Lacy tearing into each other, back across the room.

Out with the small flint knife, gentle touch on the hip here, waist there,

move the patron aside but keep a reminder, down the neckline with it, the crowd

is getting loud, the clothes are possibly mostly off, they are going to be

winding it up soon, 'I didn't pay them enough to draw blood' Back of the mind,

back of the mind, back to the bar...

And the Raccoon shaped hole in the line of patrons. And Karl, glaring at her

sudden excitingly pregnant shape.

And the man in the Town Guard uniform next to where the raccoon had been. No,

Captain of the Town Guard uniform, and holding a somewhat thick portfolio,

with a couple of choice posters being held out to Karl.

As she closed her eyes, and took another cleansing breath, she let it out

speaking along with the captain as he said "Grifty Goblin? AKA Greta

Greenbows, AKA Goldy Locks, AKA..." all to the background chorus of various

patrons finding their balance impaired due to the redistribution of weight,

from their belts to her blouse. And here was the important part.

"I place you under arrest in the name of the Lord Mayor, for the following

crimes..."

He talked, she walked, right over to the Stocks. Children ran up and poked

her 'Baby'. She saw her mark walking west, heading in the general direction

of the warehouses on the outskirts of town.

There was some minor confusion when they got there, first the stocks

themselves were the wrong size, then when they switched out the bars for

the nearest sized non-human set, they were still the wrong height.

A stool was found for her to stand on, and she watched as they clamped it

to the upright.

As she stood there, in the shade of the gallows tree, having been relieved

of her loot, she tried to turn a contemplative mind to the whole situation.

They did not kill her right off, all the patron got their cash back, at

best they could charge her with being a cutpurse, and disturbing the peace

Most cutpurses get at best in this area public humiliation, which they were

doing already, and they could not go too hard down the disturbing the peace

route, as she was certain with the current sitting judge they would have to

explain why everyone in the tavern was not sitting in docket with her...

And she still had her own stash, in the wooded area outside of town,

where no one would find...

As her hopes to be out of here in a few days rose, she felt her skirt

doing the same behind her. 'Ah, yeah, that explains the stool...' she

thought, as the first of the patrons whose coin she had lifted started

in, making use of her in the way so many others had while she was

growing up.

Ch: 2 See the World, Earn 5,000 Credits a day!

(Stupid First Person Part! #1!)

You could say my part of the story begins back in the dawn of time, when the

Creator found the world to be without Form or Void.

Or, you could go back further, to the original Monoblock, which sat around

doing not much up to the point when it exploded for no well explained reason.

Or, slightly less far back, we have my parents, who decided they loved

each other very much...

Well, for the most part everything before say a year and a half ago really

doesn't matter much to you, and that is when I set foot on Colony world #12

outbound on the Beta Hydrae line. A quiet, somewhat rural place, primarily

devoted to agriculture, and rightly so. Which is where I found out that I

was terribly at being a field hand, and that most of the jobs I was better

qualified for we well and truly filled. As I had only been seeking employment

as a means to pass the time, I put in notice through the straw boss and

purchased an explorer rig.

The fun part of being on a mostly agricultural colony is that they generally

tend to leave large parts of the world undeveloped, major wonders and sights

unseen, and major ore sites unclaimed, or I should say, not even looked for.

Now, they don't discourage anyone from doing Geological surveying, it is

just that when you have 25 major crops going at the same time, all of which

being in need of a different type of care on their own schedule as opposed to

yours, then you tend to find trying to stake a claim on a deposit of Iron,

Coal, Gold, Platinum, or even something truly valuable like Aluminum, Silver,

or Copper, well...

That is what those other planets are for. Yes, you can still get paid for

finding, marking, and returning a sample or two from the sites, as well as

a guarantied percentage of the value from the claim, but most people on these

worlds tend to leave that thing for Tourists to do, as there are preventative

measures to be done lest Blight take the whole crop.

Three months in, having found enough Gold nuggets to fill three bins before I

started chucking them back in the creeks. Three months, not a blue green smear

or odd white soft 'Wire' soluble in Nitric Acid to be found, and though all

Gold deposits might be worth it I was somewhat disappointed that I had not

found anything worth writing home about. And so I leaned back against my

towable shelter, near the Twelth-ish hand bicycle, in the camp I had set up

three week prior, reading through my Field Guide to Rocks and Minerals,

listening to the Classics of Orchestral music station broadcast out of Port

Lowel on the moon. Others might argue that there could have been a better use

found for the extra broadcast capability's of the global satellite network,

but setting things up so that everyone can purchase one handheld device, and

use it for entertainment or talking to, say, Steve down the block or Emergency

Services? I'm not one of those nuts that want to bring back the Intranetworked

Thangs, however I do appreciate being able to listen to the weather, or light

symphonic entertainment from the era of the 16-bit processor, as recomposed

for large-scale performance by...

The cloudy sky overhead, which had turned such interesting colors as the sun

set, suddenly cleared, which was the first clue that I was not on what the

locals had called 'Kansas' anymore. Tying for second was the shifting in

pattern of the stars, and the sudden drop off of music mid chord...

Ch: 3 Discovery Live!

(No Subtitles!)

She watched from a branch as the stranger engaged in...

Something, in the clearing.

She had watched for days, as he had gathered Raspberries, Mashed them,

Mixed Alcohol in with them, strained the mix, and distilled the fluid.

She watched in confusion as he stoppered the latest yellow pint jug,

and put it in a box marked 'Fuel'. She watched as he poured the remaining

Fluid in the glass Amphora into a smaller bottle, which could at best

hold a couple of mouthfuls for one his size.

Almost every sense she had been taught to trust, those she had been taught

had been used by every forebearer back to the first gremlin, told her she

was watching Science and Technology in action.

AS she watched him use a small, flat, flexible object to get the last of

the Syrup out of the Amphora, and then lick off some of it before washing

everything, her eyes, nose and heart told her this was in fact 'Cooking'

rather than 'Chemistry' or 'Alchemy'.

If it was 'Science' in action, then she knew it was her sworn duty as a

Gremlin to help it's advance by finding all the ways it could go wrong,

and making them happen, in order from Most to Least.

Though the sweetly tart aroma of literal baskets of Raspberries being

cooked down before her eyes, the scent she could in fact TASTE as she

watched the syrup being reduced to the very essence of the reddish

purple berries, and the two prior batches which had come out dark blue

for some reason, caused her heart, and stomach, to tell her mind that

this person was literally cooking something up.

She took a moment to reassure herself that he would be washing for the

foreseeable, before she climbed back around the trunk of the tree in

the fashion of the local squirls to her small camp. Making sure that

her supplies were both where she had put them, and not likely to be seen

from the ground, she turned her attention to the small bottle she had

taken a few days before.

It was unlabeled, as she had taken it from the end of a batch he had been

working on, during a time he had been distracted by a flock of birds which

were attacking one of his backets aster it had become uncovered. He had

set down one sealed bottle before labeling it, and she had swapped it out

for one of the empties in the nearby rack.

As she sat next to it, having learned everything she could from external

observation, testing the label, examining the wax seal, and the loop of

string that went about 2/3rds of the way down the inside of said seal,

she took out a piece of ration block from her purse, and sat munching it.

She had taken this from him as well, from an open pack of them. it was

faintly sweet, highly caloric, carbohydrate based, and had a taste of

Cinnamon & Apples. It seemed to crunch fairly loudly as she contemplated

her next steps.

She had seen him ingest small amounts of this, which put a tick next to

'Food' and Cooking' but he had used both Chemical and Alchemical Preparatory

methods to make this 'Syrup', which indicated it might be part of a larger

'Experiment' rather than jam making, or mead, wine, or even short beer for

all she knew. Mark next to 'Science'.

The only clear route to certainty before her was to open the bottle, and let

the Djinny, er, jam out. However, as the stuff inside had been bottled and

sealed hot, even though it stood a better than even chance of containing a

fair amount of alcohol, breaking the seal would start an interaction with the

air around her, which even the most basic of housewives would told her they

learned about when being taught how to set up preserves.

Had she in fact been foolish enough to go up to one and ask, she added to

herself. She further went on with a reminder to herself that it would be like

said housewife walking up to a bear to ask about dietary preferences and

fishing techniques.

As she cautiously reached out her hands to grip the string and bottle mouth,

in preparation to break the seal, she heard a voice behind her say "You

could have asked if you wanted to try some."

Ch: 4 Initial lies to self

(Possibly more stupid first person crap?)

I dare you. I dare you to go through a shift in trans-fictional layers,

and try to handle it as well!

Having determined that I was not in fact witnessing some oddball weather

phenomenon, so well known to the local populace that they did not even think

of putting it in the 'Welcome to Kansas' brochures right next to the 28 pound

boll weevil, I started assessing my supplies. Three remaining months of...

Which was about when I spotted the Wyverns taking down a heard of deer.

Skipping the food, I went right to the security sealed cupboard, opening it

without bothering to use the key. I had been offered a range of ranged and

close-in self defense items, but I had gone with a basic side by side coach

gun, and a hundred or so rounds. Along side it was one .22 rifle, single

shot, and another thousand rounds for same. I ignored both, and shut the

door, having satisfied myself that they were in fact in the arms cupboard.

Glancing again at the remains of the lock, I managed in a slightly calmer

fashion to open the locked medical cupboard. I flexed and relaxed the

obviously prosthetic arm as I looked over the largely useless stock of

antibiotics, pain killers, splints, bandages, and dietary supplements.

If I ran across anyone strictly organic, and they had cut their finger or

something, I might be able to help them, but given that most of what

nature could throw at me would have the same effect as being pelted with

mini-marshmallows...

I closed the door on the mostly useless to me medical supplies, and opened

tool storage, from which I pulled a hatchet, wood axe, and a three foot

gooseneck crowbar, for as most people learn in school F=MA, and there is

nothing like a bit of length to really apply that A to the M. Not that

I really needed the mechanical advantage known as Leverage, since...

Look, yes, I know you have some confusion over why I would think basic

medical supplies are useless, would prefer a three foot chunk of case

hardened steel over a range projectile weapon, and what all of this is

given that most of it seems so...

Alien? Well, here is another such term for you, 'Cyborg'. The arm and

eyes are just the more visible parts, with the exception of one brain,

and some major organs, most of me could come off the shelf of any

reasonably well equipped hospital back home.

Well, some of me. The very heavily armored support case for the brain

and organs might be available, as an upgrade? So there is the slightest

chance most of the rest is proscribed MilSpec combat frame, and some

Nano-enhanced bio-reactor/processor, with a touch of Kevlar in the skin.

So, the whole 'If you Prick me' thing might not apply. Can we get on

with recapping the next 15 months? It involves spending a few days

coming to grips with local time, trying to orient myself with available

landmarks, and doodling out a map as I tried to find a town.

What? I wanted to find my way back there at some point. It was where I

came in, might have been a way back...

Besides, I spotted signs of Copper ore in a cliff face.

Ch: 5 The long road and the short legs

(Don't let the sun come down on you!)

There would not in fact be a trial. She listened with half an ear as she

picked up the sack, which had been dropped by the base of the Pillory by

the bishop around noon on the third day. He had been leading a procession

through town, with priests, other clergy, incense, the whole circus

maximus. One or two townsfolk almost darted forward, but looks from the

Bishop, guard captain, and Karl stopped them in their tracks. Captain

Sir, whatever his name was, unlocked the stocks himself, and added a

second smaller sack. "you are free to go, just so long as you do. Two

Days, and we pass word back up the trade lines. Make use of them" he

said, in a tone she half remembered from earlier training. The famous

'Instructors Voice', that which is not so much a yell or shout, but

a way of speaking that was loud enough for all concerned to hear it. She

wondered how many in the town were receiving their first and last warning

that she was to be considered a 'Closed Subject'?

She resisted the urge to rub her wrists and neck, instead grabbing the two

sacks and heading for the nearest edge of town. She would make her way

around to her cash, get what she wanted from it, and start trying to find

Mr. Mark. He OWED her, she wanted to let him know that, and she was going

to get what she needed from him one way or another...

What he owed her...

The hot sting around her eyes as she recalled the last few days meant

NOTHING! She had taken it, and made it hers, just like that gold would

soon be hers, and she could just walk away from this life like she had

walked away from...

The sun was low on the horizon in front of her, a deep, warm, red-ish

orange like Forger had taught her to look for when heating Iron. She

had been in his Smithy after every attempt at learning a new skill in

the tribe had ended in the same skill being re-enforced. "Heat it well,

Work it hot, Strike it true, and repeat. When it fades like the evening

sky, back to the fire, and be patient. Like life itself, it will shape

slowly, and will be useless if quenched too soon."

She watched the sunset, the tears streaming down her face, as she

remembered the only man in her life who had treated her as if she could

think, rather than a set of holes to be filled. When she had gotten back

from her first hunt, filthy, clothes torn, almost screaming, he had looked

like he wanted to ask a question, but helped her set up a bath instead.

The same when she had gotten back for noon meal, the day of 'Warrior'

Training, and after he had shown her how to start forging a billet...

The day she got back from 'Training' in the Healer Hall required less

mending of the clothes, but that left more time to learn the shaping of

plates for segmented armor...

The cooks had her at one end, the cleaners at the other, and Forger

afterward showed her how to test metal for certain properties...

The day they had made her knife, she should have been with...

She heard a splash to her right, and saw a small pond by the road.

stumbling toward it, she dropped the sacks and her pack on the ground as

she settled down by the cool water. She took some time to go through the

contents of both sacks, to try and figure out what was in them.

Captain Sirs sack contained most of what she had left in the dorms back

behind the tavern, and some of what she had secreted around her person

three days ago, to whit, one small flint knife, one set of road leathers,

one voodoo doll, a small coin purse with most of the coins still in it,

a tinder box, and the steel knife Forger had 'Helped' her make, right

next to a small cloth bundle.

A small Clothes bundle. A pair of replacement bloomers, a blouse, a skirt,

all wrapped around a bar of soap...

She resisted the urge to throw the second major act of charity in her life

away. Instead she went through the Bishops sack, taking out a couple of

wallet wrapped rations of food, a salami almost as long as her arm, a

journey cloak, a ration purse, and some shoes.

Numbly, she moved most of what was there into her relatively empty pack,

Save the wrapped ration, which went in the purse, which joined the cloak

and her leathers on the shore.

She stiffly set about gathering some wood, any wood, from around the area.

A small fire was put together, with out much care as to whether anyone

might see it. She had not seen another soul on the road all day, and she

was fairly certain that no one would be still be traveling this late in the

day. When it was going, she slowly took off the clothes she had been wearing

for over three days, and tossed them on the fire.

She then picked up the soap, walked waist deep into the cold water, and

scrubbed. Arms, legs, chest, back, between, face, hair, starting over...

And over...

And crawled out to sit on one sack by the fire, as she rubbed the second

over her to get dry.

As she put on her road leathers, she avoided looking at the two other

objects that had not been added to pack, belt, purse, or outerwear pile.

She dressed seeing the same smirking face, the one who had been in her

direct line of sight every day she had stood there, as most of the men of

the town had had their way with her...

After lacing up the new shoes, before putting on the warm cloak, she drew

the flint knife from it's little sheath, and cut open a slit in the Madam

Fro doll, between it's legs. She then whispered an apology to the Bishop

as she took the salami, and shoved it into the new hole as hard as she could

before throwing both doll and sausage onto the small fire.

She then garbed herself in the cloak, picked up the empty sacks, and

continued down the road another couple of miles, certain she could hear

Forger chewing her out over the waste.

As she settled in for a hungry night, she wondered if the rumors were true

about a band of female goblins traveling with what sounded like a halfway

decent guy. She decided that was about as likely as the one about someone's

cousins best friend having met the Mad King himself, on the road.

She had only known one decent guy, and from what she had seen, the only

ones who had even come close wanted nothing to do with her.

Not that she could blame them, just about anyone who had ever stood up

for her seemed to end up dead...

Ch: 6 Of that which we can know

(In case of learning, don't break glass!)

She awoke, which was the first major surprise.

As she looked around her, the second was that she was still in her...

No, wait, she clearly remembered the lack of netting around the edge of

the branch she had carved out a campsite on. Not over the top, but she

was fairly certain that the stuff strung around the edge was new. She

could appreciate the utility of such, in the event that someone the size

of a squirl might chose to, say, fall unconscious in the middle of the

platform. Then, if they rolled about in their sleep there would be something

to prevent a fall.

Three other things she was relatively certain had not been there before her

sudden bout of unconscious were the wrapped ration block, the bottle of blue

syrup, and the flat glass fronted thing with a yellow parchment note stating

'Touch screen to start, touch (Round thing with right facing triangle) to

play message' seemingly stuck to the side of it was something she was sure

she would remember having dragged up here.

Wanting nothing more than to abandon camp and find a better, more secure

place to observe, she eventually followed the Gremlin creed 'Poke it until

it does something', and hit the net as the glass cleared to show her the

fuzzy guy down in the clearing.

"Hi, sorry if I scared you earlier, call me K if it helps. I don't know why

you are watching me, and for the most part I don't really care. But, the

joy of having been on my own for over a year, well, if you don't count doing

business with villages and town, is that you tend to try anything to avoid

talking to yourself. Including making a set of video journals about not only

everything you are doing, but also some thoughts as to what, why, how..."

"Anyway, Limited Expert System will take over this discussion, I have

included a few links to various starter topics, ranging from what I am

cooking, to where and when this started, and a little bit about me..."

The face behind the glass fell a bit, but continued "Please, I did include

my personal history, as full and truth-full as I could make it, but I would

appreciate it if you did not ask. I'm saying right now, though somewhat

curious, I will not ask you to tell me anything about you or yours."

The face went back to a neutral expression, and a number of lines of text

appeared next to it. She touched the one at the top, 'Making your own fruit

extracts for fun and profit' while briefly wondering what the weird oval on

stick was about.

'Oh, well' she thought, 'That might be covered under "Help"'...

She started breaking camp as the weird fuzzy guy went on about proper use

of Ethanol, or grain alcohol, as a combination preservative, working

extraction fluid, and source of heat if nothing else was available.

"I wonder how this things works?" sha said, and the guy stopped mid-sentence

to say "I am a limited expert system, running on a Mark-IV personal Datapad,

made on one of the factory worlds along the settlement line of the Republic

of Alpha Centauri, though which particular factory is not stored locally on

this device."

After a pause, he continued "Would you like to resume the previous lecture,

Learn more about the Republic of Alpha Centauri, or start a new topic?"

She dropped the laundry she had been putting in the pack, and the pack as

well. Out of a suddenly dry throat, she croaked "What are you?"

"Please, I am limited, would you like the previous statements repeated,

Biological Background, or Personal History?"

She wondered if this is what the various artificers and alchemists meant

when they claimed someone was thirsty? "Previous statement, no, What is

an Expert System?" she managed, on the third attempt, fingers crossed...

Ch: 7 Clarity

(Ongoing stupid first person, er, Travelog!)

I have brought it to my attention that I might be making a mistake in

this video journal that I am keeping for me...

Let's start over, shall we?

As I was once told, a journal works best in some cases if kept in the

fashion of being an in progress letter to someone you once knew well,

but have not seen in a while...

Again! No, I am not unhinged! I can talk with anyone I want to!

(Cough)

Again...

Time of the new planet, Year 0, Month 0, Day 5

Having gone over supplies again, in an effort to repack them for travel

after a minor 'Break', I encountered two canisters which had been

mistakenly included in my loadout. One can powdered Magnetite, and

one can powdered Aluminum, both down as 'Cooking Grease, 5 pound can'

I am sure that, were I in a position to do so, I could have a long laugh

with the provisioner staff on the subject of 'Hot Grease'.

Moving out tomorrow, as though the trees and other plant life in the area

are all fairly green there is no sign of surface water. The more lucid

moments of the past few days have resulted in a rough 'Map' of the area,

enough that I can find my way back later should I wish to, and the day

tracker I set up seems to indicate a reduction in light consistent with

the approach of Autumn. As I do need to seek a new source of Water, and

as the local area seems to lack major deposits of edible rocks, I have

determined that ongoing habitation of the area...

(Deep Breath)

I THINK THE SMOKE RISING FOUR MILES WEST OF HERE MIGHT BE PEOPLE!

PEOPLE MEAN FOOD! DRINK! BED!

(Sound of something hitting a rock face, repeatedly.)

I can eat as long as the emergency equipment holds out, and it will hold

out as long as I can stuff carbon based organic matter and water into it.

my regular supplies, which some would claim to be a half step up from

E-Rats, will be gone in three months.

I have enough water left for the next two weeks. And some idea as to what

direction to go for more.

But it means leaving the clearing, in which I found myself that first

morning.

It means making First Contact, when all I ever wanted was a quiet place,

far from the rest of the known Universe, which is part of what this

prospecting trip was about.

That, and killing time before heading off for my Hundred year checkup,

but that is 20 years off, plenty of time to get back for it.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have a very large 'X' to make.

Ch: 8 The most interesting people can be met on the Road

(If at first you don't succeed...)

She woke up to the sound of a small group going by. She thanked the time

she had spent observing the hunters before they 'Trained' her, as most

groups don't tend to hide what they are doing from a child. Indeed, if

asked by a child, most adults will tend to explain most of what they are

doing...

Such as making camouflage cloaks, out of local plants to help hide the

hunters better. Others had insisted that it was the smell of the plants,

helping to hide their own aroma if the wind shifted. Some of the veterans

would chime in on the value of regular 'hides' verses shifting them every

few hours...

Of course, she couldn't go out with them anymore, she had been part of a

trade, and gone with a few others to stay with a new group. And new

groups meant new ideas, a blending of Knowledge, a shift in breeding to

avoid...

She was not sure what it was supposed to avoid, but she knew that she

could not take the time to berate her past or her self right now if she

wanted to avoid being caught by this group. Three of them, walking back to

where she had just left, she knew two of them, regulars at the Tavern as

most other places had already told them to take it elsewhere. She knew

Karl had been growing closer to showing them the other side of the front

door for a while now...

"...And he comes to town every week or so?" the stranger asked them. The

one she had come to know as Spots confirmed it, while the one she had

though of long enough as Dim that she could no longer recall his name

stated "Nah, Tha aint right, he just started showing up lass week, askin

the Dumb questings lak 'Where can I change Gold fer Coin?' Eny one know

Gold is coin!"

She stayed silent. Spots and Dim had not been in town three days ago,

she knew that, as though Dim had never shown any particular interest in,

well, much beyond eating, drinking, and avoiding paying for either, Spots

had...

Particular tastes. She knew as he was the most prosperous of the two,

she had followed him home, Once. His trip home had taken a detour through

the barn, and the tack room.

She had over heard his plans for her, and vowed then and there to never

accept anything from him, food, drink, or coin.

As she sat waiting for the group to leave, she heard the stranger ask

"Well, I suppose you don't know where I might find him? I might help

clear up his misconception as to whether gold is coin, and if you could

help me with it, I might give you a few in return..."

She held her breath. Dim might not know, Spots might get greedy,

anything but please let them...

"Yeah, 'bout 'Nuther quarter day journay to where the sun goes down,

least that 'bout afar as we dun follo-oof" Dim said, before Spots

elbowed him. She heard the sound of a small bag of coin hitting

someone, and a brief scratching sound followed by two voices walking

away heatedly arguing with each other. Two voices, two strides. There

had been three...

She covered her mouth, and slowly let out her breath, trying to be quiet

and fearing that her heartbeat might give her away. A few breaths later

she heard from slightly closer than she was comfortable with "They have

left, carrying with them the biggest payout of their short lives. Not a

backward glance at their benefactor, or though about how he had promised

them a sovereign each, plus another if they would help him find suitable

lodging tonight. Of course, the bag of silver and copper pieces they just

got for answering a simple question might have something to do with it,

though the first person they try to spend it with might be willing to

point out a few problems with those coins. Won't you come out, I don't

really want to keep talking to a bush..."

She made sure her pouches were tied well, picked up her rucksack, and

stepped out of the bush, hood up, mask wrap in place. Taking a cue from

the warriors of her former clan, she tossed down a short pole she had

found the night before, along with her small flint knife and some leather

cord, all of which she had been holding in her off hand. Her left was

hidden under the cloak, lightly gripping her pack but near her steel knife,

her every heavy heartbeat another blessing upon Forger just as hard as she

had cursed him every night before she lost him. She looked up, and knew

before she even locked eyes with him that he would be a Smirking Bastard.

They were ever the same, they learned everything they could, just to show

it off. Many of then had an exceptional fondness for finding out how many

coins their new friend had, and did not stop until it was a number in the

negatives.

She had heard some Wizards were like that, a few of the Merchants

she had seen over the past few months were like that, and the patter was

almost identical every time.

"I bet you would like to know how I knew you were there." S.B. said, to

which her reply was "Not really, I was rushed. I forgot to douse the fire

last night, I left the stones in a ring, there are fresh breaks in the

branches of the bush, really, I'm surprised that Spots and Dim couldn't

find me..." 'Keep calm, out smirk Mr. Smirk here, and you might come out

ahead' she told herself. As he waded in, trying to out patter her, she

assessed him. Possibly just shy of two Kings Yards tall, possibly a Hundred

weight, Quarter, give or take a Stone and Pound. His clothes were fine, but

worn, though clean, and his pack seemed a bit small for a wandering trader.

The bow and quiver might make some see him as roguish, but she knew a

training bow when she saw one. Suitable for hunting small game, if nothing

better was to hand, or putting a light shaft in the target down field, and

not that far down either. No, it was the rapier and twin daggers that

concerned her. Wait, he was asking...

"And what brings you out here? Lost? Seeking your fortune?" He Smirked

aloud, even showing off a bit of canine with that one. 'Smug Smirking

Bastard' She thought to herself, keeping it off her face as best she could,

afraid it might show even through the mask wrap. "Why, no, well, not like

that, see, there is this Raccoon I saw a few days ago, and I though he

might..."

She spun a story, skipping the whole cloth and going right for the

rarified Ether, making it the dreamiest setup that a Smirking Bastard had

ever encountered. A Promise, or so she hoped, a job as a servant, possibly

more, unspecified work, but with him every day, if only she could find him

again, and money would be no problem once...

S.B.s eyes grew with each passing word, almost as much as they had when

she had gestured wide with her right arm, giving him both a fine view of

her form fitting leathers, and the empty knife sheath on her right hip.

She ticked off the mental checklist 'Let's see, I have him thinking I

am a vapid young girl, possibly run away, poor, defenseless, and

hopelessly enthralled at the notion of working for Mr. Mark, and sharing

his bed in lieu of pay. Also, I have him thinking of Marks wealth, and

now he is possibly thinking of ways to make it his...' as S.B. started

prattling on about how he could not possibly let her...

She slipped her left arm through a strap on her pack, and parted her cloak

again as she put her right arm through the other. As the cloak closed once

again over her body, the slightly floral, slightly musky, very 'Exotic'

scent wafted towards S.B. from the perfume she had splashed onto her

shirt. She had taken it from either Tracy's or Lacy's room, and it had

in rather curved script with flaking gold leaf the name 'Quasabah Delights'

emblazoned upon the front.

'Yes, the old guys were right' she thought, as the look of interest on

S.B.s face grew. 'Get the scent right, and they come to you...'

She glanced down at his rapier and daggers again, and added 'Hope I got

Long Pig, and not Lone Wolf.' Aloud she said "...So, could you help me

find him? I just need to spent some time with him, alone? Please? I'll

make it worth your time, I promise!" 'Vapid as anything, honest as the

day is long, flutter those eyes, make them wider!' she all but screamed

to herself.

She clasped both hands in front of her, in a pleading gesture, after

making sure she had put the top flap of her belt purse back over her

steel knife. Let him think he had a helpless kitten, no need to let him

know Kitty could scratch yet. The heady blend of flowers and musk filled

the air, and she wondered if she would ever get the Quasabah back out

of her leather shirt. S.B. walked over, smiling warmly, and reached out

to her. "Yes, I can help you." He said, as he put a hand to her hood.

She suppressed a shudder as he pushed back her hood, and started running

his thumb over her cheek and ear. "We can help each other..." He said,

with the Smirk back all over his face.

She was about to run when he grabbed her left arm and said "Yes, we can both

help each other, Grifty..."

Ch: 9 Wait long enough, you will see everything, but what will you have done?

(While:Learning Hold:Position)

She had finished off the bar she had taken from him, and started in on the

second, while giving occasional attention to the bottle of syrup, as diluted

with water...

While in front of her, at almost twice as fast as he had recorded it, over

the past few days the raccoon gave forth on topics varied and diverse, from

how to make preserves, to the identification of mineral wealth, preparing

fields for planting, and his thoughts on this new 'Planet' he found himself

on, his thoughts on how it might have happened, early attempts at

identifying what season he was in...

She wondered how anyone could mistake Winter for Autumn? The snow on the

ground aside, the freezing cold should have been a dead giveaway. Ephasis

on 'Dead'...

"Expert? Explain 'Milspec'?" She asked. "Milspec: Military Specification,

an object or program designed to have qualities of durability,

functionality, or reliability, and to fit a specific price point."

She blinked. Up to this point, Expert had be fairly voluble on most

subjects, either giving options for further expansion of the lecture, or

other topics which might be of interest. This sudden abrupt end to the

'discussion' threw her for a bit of a loop. Supposedly he, well, 'It' was

not really thinking. Just a wide range of 'pre-programmed' responses, and

a 'Topic Weighted Lookup Table', all wrapped up in the image of a real

person, or so 'It' had said, at length. Everything so far had been at

length...

"Expert? Care to expand on this subject?" She asked, and watched as the

'Video Image' of a raccoon male looked away from her, showing clear

evidence of being embarrassed, or scared, or both. "I'm sorry, but you

have hit a restriction. Please, I have been programed to alert [Prime

User] if this or certain other topics are broached, don't take it to

hard... Please?" 'It', no, 'He', she was sure of it now, looked almost

like he was ready to start pleading with her on this subject when she

heard the footsteps below. "I hear you have some questions for me."

K said. "Care to come to camp, or should I come up there again?"

Ch: 10 Should Old Acquaintance be forgot? Or is that just me?

(We're doing this one LIVE People!)

Well, post mortem discussion with myself again.

As the short lady climbed down the tree, I took the time to get a

Better look at her. Less than eleven inches total height, she was

dressed in what seems to be Squirl skins, complete with the fur,

tail, and the fuzzy head as a hoodie. On her hands and feet were short,

sharp claws, possibly iron in composition, and from what I could see of

her skin she had what is known as an Olive Complexion, which would fit

given that she seemed to fit the ideal size and mannerism of what

the humans I had know both here and before called a Gremlin. As most

pre-here humanity seemed to believed the beginnings of it's

technological prowess can be found mostly in civilizations that

had formed around a body of water known as 'The Mediterranean', and

that along with 'The Middle East' and 'The Asian' had fairly close

skin tones...

I dropped the line of thought, as my guest smacked me 'Hard' in the

left ear.

Up close, I decided that I would fail to be able to turn my head in

such a way as to look her in the face without knocking her to the

ground. As I was not far from camp, which had my tent, a chair, table,

and other things to make conversation more pleasant, I walked with her

mostly out of sight. The legs I could see, even in the fuzzy leggings,

hinted at a form that most warm blooded males would find fascinating,

and the extra motion from even the light weight hinted at her having

a very attractive figure.

Shame, really, that it was me she met. I have heard others in my

position had functional anatomical extras, but, well...

Look, I was Eleven! Never really got around to trying it out, and

I didn't see the point. When you find yourself getting mild bursts

of pleasure accompanied by chemical breakdown lists when eating, the

great mysteries of the pleasures of the flesh just...

Ok, fine, I set her down and get a good look at her face. And body,

slightly pointed chin, pug nose, nice cheek bones, very pointed ears

Dark turquoise eyes, full lips, dark wavy hair down to mid-neck...

Trim body...

I would like to sculpt her some day, I feel that others might like to

see her too, on a slightly larger scale.

She asked "What is MilSpec, in regards to you?" To which I replied

"Everything you see. However, what you mean is possibly more along

the lines of 'What Are you, really', to which I say this:"

"I go by the name of K, and am the only son of the formerly disinherited

Heirs of two major economic concerns. They, and about 85 of their

contemporaries from both sides broke off to form the Taiveg Catering Group,

A neutral semi-mercenary traveling food-service company, which when I came

along had slightly over 3,000 sentients on the payroll. Of course, attempting

to stay neutral in any sort of conflict comes easier if you are either well

defended or heavily armed, and as they were neither around the time of my

eleventh birthday..."

"A day of reconciliation, acceptance, alliance of two great powers, and

the day I lost just about everything, starting with my arm, followed by my

eyes, which is about the point I lost consciousness."

I reached up with the bronze colored right hand, and took off the boxy

'Visor', knowing she would see the pits and contacts. After setting it on my

lap, I reached over with my left arm, and took off my right. Fairly sure I had

her full attention, I continued.

"I am, as you can see, not quite altogether here. that which is visible is 'Me'

in the same way the parts I just took off are, and the rather more heavily

protected lumps in my head and chest."

"In regards to the Milsspec part, consider that to indicate that I am in part

a very specific machine, one that can hit a little harder, perform better in a

wider range than you would find comfortable, and that was designed to carry out

one specific task better than any other. Get me back to safety, alive."

I re-attached my right arm, and felt a hand on my leg. I slowly picked up the

'Visor', wanting desperately to get my eyes back in place, when I heard her say

"Wait, please? I just..."

I waited, holding myself very still, as she climbed up my leg. She ran her

hands over my knee, thigh, waist and belly. I felt her head press against my

chest for a couple of breaths, and waited while she climbed onto my collar

'Bone'. The touch of her hands on my face left me wondering if I should have

gone for other options instead of...

The feel of a warm body, as she breathed and parts shifted, the smell of

slightly whiffy cured hide, and slightly musky scent of someone who missed a

bath. No, a lady who had missed a bath, and who was running her fingers along

where one of two brown eyes had been.

I will continue to wonder why I have a fully developed sense of smell, when I

lack a sense of taste. Possibly tied to some survival metric decided upon in a

lab...

I coughed slightly, and felt a loss as she climbed down. She was already facing

away from me as I put my Eyes back in their sockets, though the elevated heat I

saw coming from her along with the increase in speed I heard in her heart rate

told me that I was not the only one reconsidering options...

"I, I would like to move into camp, to simplify my observations." She said,

followed by "Nothing extravagant, just anywhere you might have some extra

space..."

I wanted to ask her name, and was tempted to offer her the table on the west

side of the tent interior, when we both heard a voice call out "Hello the

Camp!"

A female voice.

Ch: 11 If at first you don't succeed

(Bull-ridings not your sport!)

They had spent the next couple of days looking for Mr. Mark, or at least

somewhere he might call home. S.B. had said she would recognize it when she

saw it, as it would have an odd, two-wheeled, open framed object standing

upright in it somewhere. When she asked if it was a cart of some sort, S.B.

had laughed.

He had also refused to give her back the small flint knife, pole, or leather

cord. "when I feel safe around you, little goblin." he had said with a chuckle.

She could care less about the pole, or cord, and even the flint knife was

something that would take less time to make than it would take to make a fire

and boil water. That said task would be easier with the flint knife back was

pretty much the point of her asking, though she had planned on never seeing any

of what she dropped in the way of 'Weapons' from the start.

Yes, 'They' had spent the last few days searching for the raccoons camp.

Definitely not just her walking half a league out and back repeatedly when

they got to where Dim and Co. said they had followed him.

She supposed she could have just walked into the woods, and never seen S.B.

again, but he had her Steel Knife. Her last token of Forger, as such totally

irreplaceable, and he had taken it from her before she could...

she could berate herself later, her priorities were 1. Find the Mark 2. Get his

Trust 3. Set him up 4. Exchange Mark for Knife...

She almost walked into a workbench. A full on...

Kitchen?

Alchemist workshop?

Apothecary setup?

And right next to it was a two-wheeled, open framed object, hooked onto the

handle of a cart that stood taller than her. No, now that she looked closer,

it was not a cart, it was a small hut, and over there was a tent, and several

boxes whose shape seemed to indicate some relation to the wheeled hut in front

of her.

And right out in the open, on the workbench, was a steel knife the likes of

which would have made Forger Famous. Thin, light, sharp, and the back of the

blade just seemed to extend through the handle, which was made of some dark

wood with no perceptible grain. Flat Rivets went through the handle, and

possibly the tang of the blade as well.

She held it in what many would consider a poor grip for knife fighting, as the

edge of the blade rested against her inner arm, but held it hidden that way as

she called out "Hello the Camp!"

She was about to call out again when the tent flap moved, and Mr. Mark walked

out, with not one speck of recognition on his fuzzy face. She could take the

scorn of the world, the rejection of both men and women when they learned more

about her, even the complete lack of restraint from those who decided they

wanted only one thing from her...

But here was someone who had been at the very heart of everything that had

happened almost a week ago, and he was acting like this was the first time

they had seen each other? She readied the stolen knife, planned her attack,

first a hook behind the knee with the edge toward her, severing the tendons,

and while he was down right in the chest, point first...

"You're Gigi, right? From Karl's Tavern?" She had started forward, before he

said anything, and stopped at the first sound. Almost dropping the knife, she

thought 'No, no, nonono! You don't get to know me! You ignored me! You ignored

EVERYTHING! You don't get to know who I am!' Aloud she said "Yes..."

"Karl said he saw potential in you, did he send you looking for me?" Mr. Mark

asked, after she had been standing quietly before him for a half dozen breaths.

She answered hurriedly "Yes, he was wondering if the next batch might be ready

soon." 'Shitshitshit! You know better! Keep it vague, Let the Mark fill in

details!' She thought to herself, and was surprised to hear him come back

with "Yeah, I was heading back that way in two days or so, would you like to

wait here? There is bed space in the trailer, I would have to move some

gold first..." She almost fell over at the flat statement, and was glad that

he had been walking away when he said it. "N-no, it's fine, I can move it for

you..." She managed, as he came back carrying a couple of metal boxes.

And then he said something that stopped her heart for a couple of beats.

"Are you sure? There is around 700 pounds of it. Don't know why I kept

picking it up, but seeing as I could not find any Bauxite, Copper or Silver

deposits it seemed..." The world fuzzed around her, and as it went dark

she heard "Are you alright?"

She awoke, laying on a mostly soft but irregular surface. The light was dim,

there was a mostly flat surface in front of her, above her rather as she was

laying mostly flat...

She sat up with a start, feeling all over, and finding everything but her

pack right where she had secured it. As she looked around the room, she saw

her pack leaning against the 'Bed' she was on, and took note that there was

less than a handspan between her and the 'Ceiling'. Flopping back flat, she

noted that some of the lumps had shifted, and she put this down to the

various personal effects about her having moved as she did. Every thing else

she felt under her must therefore be on the 'Bed', and she would look at it

when she got up to look around this rather small roo...

'Small Room'. which had a higher ceiling on one side, curved, like that hut

on wheels she had seen earlier. And against the 'Far' wall were those boxes

Mr. Mark had been carrying...

She got up, and moved her travel cloak from where it had been lain across

part of the 'Bed'. Enough loose raw gold nuggets to let her avoid working for

YEARS were randomly scattered across the area her cloak had covered. Not quite

700 pounds, though.

She tried to kick the boxes away in frustration, and almost broke her foot.

After failing to pick up the top one, she almost flipped herself over backward

when the lid failed to be secured shut over the wondrous sight, all those

friendly little lumps...

Which she could move, maybe, from here to a spot half a league away, over the

next week, provided that no one saw her...

She closed the box, cleaned up the few nuggets on the bed, putting about half of

them in her pack, the rest hidden about her person, and spent some time poking

into everything in the room.

Under the 'bed' pad was a low counter, and the pad itself was attached to some

smooth, white, slippery board. as she lacked her flint knife, and her Steel

Knife, she could not test the surface in the normal manner...

Knife...

Not tucked into either sheath, but as she looked around again she saw it stuck

to the wall somehow. Retrieving it, she stuck it into the sheath for the flint

knife, or tried to. Slightly dismayed as the knife cut through the side of the

sheath, she reluctantly tried to put the knife back on the same spot of the wall

she had pulled it from just moments ago, and felt the same responding 'Grip' from

no where, and even more reluctantly went back to exploring the room rather than

fooling around with the enchanted grabbing spot.

Going further down under the counter were two pair of wide, flat drawers side by

side, full of charts, maps, and sheets of paper, some of which had...

Drawings on them. Mostly Landscapes, but a few portrait style sketches, most of

those being of beings like unto Mr. Mark, though there were others, as well as the

contents of the lower right hand drawer consisting of a selection of glossy

sheets, fastened together in their middles, full of color pictures and odd

writing...

And just below those were a pair of wide, deep drawers full of clothes, junk,

assorted personal items. Near the far end of the counter from the door past where

the pad would lay, just below the part of the wall which was holding the knife was

a pair of built in basins, and some pipes stuck on end in the counterspace behind

the basins. to the right of that, across the far end of the room was a rack of

small pots with handles, and a slightly different counter set a little higher.

Below that was a small cupboard which was cold inside, with a smaller cupboard

inside it that was positively freezing.

She almost left off exploring this room, given that it was obviously home to some

Wizard or another, but opened the door at the other end of the counter, right next

to what she was sure was the door to the outside. It opened onto a second, smaller

room, whose purpose would have been a total mystery to her had she not seen such

back when she first left the new clan, as some of the wealthier households she had

'Borrowed' from had similar setups. "But why does he have a Garderobe in a...

Whatever this is? Wouldn't a chamber pot have worked?"

She went back to exploring the room, and wondered why the odd looking section of

counter next to the built in basins had all those knobs and handles.

Ch: 12 Moving right along!

(/Sethome RaccoonK_Target)

Over the next couple of days, she moved most of her items from the various lookout

posts around the camp into K's tent, up a small section of climbing net and onto

a table near his bed. She needed his help with Expert, and the assorted other

things connected by what were apparently 'Cabals', though she was unsure why K

left the one odd polished sunshade disconnected, and put in it's place a 'Cabal'

attaching Expert to the table. She would ask Expert later...

Most of her equipment, and a fair chunk of her personal effects, were now set up

on the table in the tent, though she had the small travel pack and wilderness

clothes hidden two trees away from where he had found her. Though she 'Knew' he

meant no harm, and would be fully honest in all things, she had heard many a story

about Gremlins in the same position she was in now, giving in to the desire to

more fully understand the subject...

Best to make ready an escape before she needed one. And leave with it a copy of

her notes to date, in case...

She was starting to doubt her objectivity here. What she should have done several

days ago was to destroy most of what she could not carry, to prevent discovery

or study by the larger races. She should have left as soon as possible after that,

leaving K with only a story that would sound more like he had been drinking alone

too much.

She should not, under any circumstances, have TALKED with him, let him make a

'Video Record', start a few drawings...

Make her a small bed, wardrobe, bath, set up privacy walls for her...

Most definitely she should not have been studying him in his sleep, when his face

relaxed, his arm and visor were off...

She knew the stories, overheard by others, passed along. Her Parents had heard

them as well, but they would never admit to knowing about such direct interaction.

There were ways and means for 'Interaction between disparate bodies' to take

place, and even be mutually pleasurable.

She had checked the night before, and though he seemed to be physically

altogether, there was not a single stir to any of her actions, in much the same

way there had been no visible change down there the day the goblin girl had shown

up. And she thought that it might not just be a lack of reaction to her, as she

had observed a few of the interactions between K and apparently G.G. across the

following days. The biggest length of time he could have spent in privet with

G.G., said goblin had been laid out comfortably on some folded canvas outside

the 'Travel pod' while K had been inside it, moving gold, with the door open.

She had made a heart stopping run across open ground, in broad daylight, to check.

She just wanted to know more about him! How his body worked! Why it worked...

She knew however that she could never bring herself to follow up in the normal

manner by using that knowledge to make it not work, and even more disturbing,

might let him know of her findings if she thought they might help him.

Her parents would be harsh with her. Might even sit in on the Board of Inquiry,

though from some of their journals she had read she doubted they would vote

for banishment. Possibly revocation of solo privileges, assignation of permanent

partnership...

They would say it worked for them.

'But,' she thought, 'Was not the whole point of their existence to point out flaws

in what worked?'

She opened the wardrobe, and sorted through the selection of hiding clothes. And

past them, to the few dresses he had helped her make in the evenings. That G.G.

was doing everything she could to fixate K's attention on her form...

She took out a design K had called a Cocktail Dress, in Dark Turquoise, along with

a short length of gold braided wire he had turned into a belt for her. 'Two can

play this...' she thought, loosening the squirl skin jacket as she carried

everything to the screened off bathing area, grabbing a pair of knee high boots

on the way. She hoped this would be an evening to remember for a long time...

Ch: 13 "...And that is when it all went wrong, officer"

(Thunderbolts and Lightning, very very frightening)

Exscript from the journal of Sirus Smith:

A Report on the discovery made on the twelfth of Harvestdark, by Sirus, Frm.

Captain Town Guard of the township of Newhaven, in the Grand Dutchy...

(scratched out)

Sirus, for himself, in the company of Bishop Mesh and Karl, Wandering soles all.

We set out from the city shortly after the casting out of one Grifty Goblin. We

did so under protest, but in co-operation of the new regime headed by the young

Spotsworthy, Madam Fro, and an wandering sword for hire.

After the young Spotsworthy returned to town and tried to pass false coinage, said

coins having been demonstrated to be false with even the most basic of tests, I

had felt the trial would be swift. Three days after his arrest and incarceration

said sword for hire came into town, holding up the remains of a jacket that the

judge had been wearing when last seen. He had turned to me, and shouted "I sent

Spotsworthy here to warn you all about the dangers lurking in the woods, He had

him locked up! Get him, Lock him up, and let us get that Raccoon!"

A few of my men stayed behind, as most of the village dashed off into the woods,

Saying they would keep me imprisoned. Those that went along we encountered in

singly and in pairs along the road, as we made our way along the road Karl said

would take us to the Raccoon.

I had never held any doubt in Karl's judgement of a person, though I had come

close on the subject of Grifty. Still, aside from that scene at the tavern, she

had caused me much less grief over the last few months than most of the Citizens.

Mesh and a few of his priests had joined us as we left town, and we had marched in

their company for two thirds of a day before every man of us had taken cover in

the woods to either side of the road. Had we a turner amongst us, then would have

been the perfect time to set the mob upon us, for mob it was, shouting, Snarling,

waving torn remnants of a tent like flags, most of them hauling along a strange

wheeled box, and that two wheeled frame the Raccoon had been riding the first time

he came to town. Along with a few odd shaped boxes, they were carrying the bound

and hooded form of one Grifty Goblin, and a small cage with what seemed to be a

dark blue bird in it.

As the Raccoon was no where in sight, either whole or being displayed in pieces

like a trophy beast, I broke the party into two groups, the larger of which I sent

back toward town, to keep watch on the proceedings and prepare as best they could

on the off chance we could stop the rioters and restore order without calling upon

the Ducal regiments. Myself, Mesh, and Karl made our way back along the fairly

obvious blazed trail to the Raccoons campsite.

We did find there a sight of wasteful destruction. Smashed glass and wood, broken

crops, tangled lines, burnt clothing, and a couple of those oddly shaped boxes

which apparently none of the mob felt like carrying off.

On the ground, by the remains of the tent, the Raccoon lay on his chest, an ax

in his back, and some black iron bar pinning his armored arm to the ground.

I swear, on this written testament and on any other you care to present me,

nothing could prepare me for his shouting 'Futbole Practice!' while getting back

up off the ground when Mesh went to pronounce Last Rites over him...

Ch: 14 It's Never a Good Day to Die, is it?

(Enough Mr. Nice Raccoon, you WANT me to pay attention? You Got It!)

(B:\> CD Brain)

[Dark, cold, quiet...]

(B:Brain\> Open Folder Startload)

[Please, let me rest...]

(B:Brain\Startload\>Run Bootstrap.EXE)

[No, I like it here, please, no more...]

(B:Brain\Startload\>Program Failed, Abort/Retry/Fail?)

[I just want to sleep...]

(B:Brain\Startload\>Run Ftball.EXE)

A searing jolt, the scent of ash and dirt, and shouted gibberish. Reality shoved

back into my life, tearing asunder the dream from before. Three scared faces, one

over religious robes looked at me as I stood up, backing away as I grabbed the

crow bar and used it to get the ax out of my back. I picked up the ax, and heard

an explicative as I snapped the head from the haft after making sure it was not

my ax.

I looked around the faces, noting that I had Captain Sirus, Karl the Tavernman,

and some local religious person, and briefly wondered if they had brought in

someone to give me a funeral. How nice, I might repay the gesture some...

I had caught up on recent memories at that point, but I always was a bit slow

first thing. I turned to Sirus, and said "Did they go back to town?" As his face,

which was regaining color nicely, went up and down on the skull attached to

jointed vertebra, I tuned to asses what I had left to work with...

-Several Jugs of distilled Alcohol

-A few small hand pumps

-Two lever triggered ball valves

-Two one-way pressure valves

-Pipes...

Amongst the assorted piles of broken junk, I saw the few remaining modular

storage cupboards, and though the weapons locker, tool locker, and first aid

locker were gone, I was relieved to see that the Pantry was still there.

Having wasted almost 25 seconds, I turned back to Sirus and such, and asked them

"Do you care what happens to the town?"

As I used the crow bar to clear broken everything off the one remaining table,

plans for how to spend the next couple of hours forming and breaking, along side

the random outlying train of thought which amongst other things told me I really

should slow down, I spoke over their sudden yammering saying "All I wanted was

some time ALONE! And then everyone Invited themselves to a Party!"

As they stopped talking, I set two canisters on the table, one marked FeO, the

other Al, and started looking for the Aluminum foil, vegetable shortening, and

fuse cord, saying "So what's a party without Booze and Fireworks?"

Ch: 15 Of Gremlins and Goblins

(While:trapped Play:Ball)

Stupid, stupid, why...

She thought the plan was to trick him into giving up the gold!

You don't hurt the Mark, You certainly don't use prepared Spell Scrolls to

call Lightning down on the Mark! You get what you can from the Mark, and let

him or her go to gather more wealth so you can do it again!

You certainly don't try to kill the Mark when he is ready to hand you more gold

than most KINGDOMS have, just because he can't be bothered to cart it around

anymore...

Not after he gives you a bed...

And dinner...

And Listened to your lies...

Stupid, STUPID!

She was getting Forger's Knife, HER Knife, back, and then giving it to S.B.

In the Groin!

"Hey, need a hand?" a voice behind her, near where her arms were strapped to a

post, possibly that little blue clad thing, which had been in the cage after

they had removed the hood. It had disappeared shortly afterward...

She had not cared quite as much as she could have, as Madam Fro and Spots had come

in to 'Talk' with her, briefly, before S.B. had opened the door and hauled them

off. Her leather shirt was still hanging open, cut thongs drooping down beside

each breast, but none of the guards had even tried to get a feel at any of the

feedings since then, one of them saying he wasn't going to risk that.

"Large, Green, and Doomed! Do. You Need. A. HAND!" the voice repeated, and she

replied "Yes. I would like that very much..."

She felt pressure depart her wrists, and started trying to fumble her shirt closed

again using what was left of the leather thongs. She heard a sound to her right,

and turned to see the little yellowish-brown skinned woman in a blue dress

standing next to one of Mr. Marks strange boxes, pulling it open.

Inside were two assemblies of wood and metal, which she supposed she could use

as clubs if it came to it...

"Grab the shorter one, with two pipes. The canvas bag, and four of the Yellow and

Green boxes. No, not the gold and white! Yellow and Green, Green, like your

fingers!" The suddenly bossy short woman seemed to want to shout and whisper at

the same time, And it caught G.G. off guard when she suddenly climbed onto her

shoulder and said "Boxes in bag, strap on left shoulder, bag on right hip. Right

hand on wooden grip at the back, Left under the pipes on forward grip. Right thumb

work lever sticking back, open breach, hold with left hand while right hand opens

box of ammo! Two red cylinders, brass part facing back toward rear wooden

grip..." Grifty smiled, as she tried to follow the instructions. it was almost like being back with the old tribe...

Ch: 16 We're not going to take it!

(If:Items=stolen Then:Run_Kill9)

I worked on mixing at the campsite.

I assembled parts as we marched.

Every stop, I would roll a few more bundles of mayhem...

At the stop for the night, a few miles outside of town, I finished putting

together the flamers. I gave one to Karl, and one to Sirus, along with two pint

jugs of Ethel each. The rest of the jugs were distributed amongst the remaining

guardsmen, along with the three ounce bundles of destruction.

I had found Experts screen, or at least the one it had been using up until a few

days ago, right next to my hatchet. Expert had been increasingly odd in it's

behavior over the past week or so, ever since I had set it down next to the

Gremlin...

So, it was with this and everything else in mind that I began the instructions.

"Each of you who has received something, listen up. The Yellow Jugs with cloth

around the spout are to be uncorked, the Cloth Lit, and thrown where you feel

like warming something up. Some-THING! Not Some-ONE! The little rounded packages

with rings sticking out: When we go in, and you see some-THING which needs to be

made even warmer, PULL the RING, and throw it IN. Remember, When Mr. Ring is out,

Mr. Package is not your Friend!"

I turned to Sirus and Karl, and said "As far as your new party pieces work, you

Light the Tarball on the wire in front. You give the forward grip three quick

pumps back toward you, point it at an offending structure, and squeeze the

trigger, gently. Give one count, release trigger, repeat. Got it?"

Karl nodded grimly, Sirus asked "But, should we not try to reason with them

first?"

I asked "Did you then?" As Sirus stood, silent, I first asked "How long do you

think mesh will take?" Sirus answered with "He should be getting to the Dukes this

evening, and then it depends on whether they set out tonight, or tomorrow. How,

how sure are you that we need to sack our own town?" I replied with parts of an

old song.

'I make shit Blow Up, that is the dream, a flash of light, a distant scream, they

say creation should be clean, all polished brass, silver sheen..."

And I continued to mangle the old words with "If we survive, then write this down,

The Test was Good, we Lost the Town..."

I walked away, wanting to be alone for a bit, still singing to my self random

snaches. "But when the Dungeon Doors slam shut, and Monsters rise from every cut,

When Plans collapse and Hope runs thin, That is when my work kicks in..."

I only hoped, as I gripped the crow bar tighter, that I could believe it in the

morning. I was still fairly certain I was not tracking quite right "No Ancient

Spell, no Holy Light, just Gears that rattle through the night, a scrap of Soul,

a Clockwork Heart, every spark and broken cup is one more way I build us up..."

With my 'Real' hand, I punch a tree, and watch it lean.

"I Blow shit up, Yes I do, But I would Blow this world for you..." And was not

certain at all which 'You' I meant, just as I was entirely sure I meant every

word.

In the morning, I made my way back to the rest of the party people. Most if not

all of whom seemed to still be there, surprisingly enough, and sober, which was

even more shocking, seeing as I had left them with enough alcohol to sotz a small

village. Most astonishing of all, there were no suddenly burned down anything,

which meant no one had pulled any pins.

Almost floating at the joy of working with people capable of following implied

direction as well as stated instruction, I waved my bronze arm in the air, and

re-attached it when I had everyone's attention.

"Ok, We split into two main groups, ones following Karl, twos following Sirus,

Any Questions?" I said. Sirus said "How do they know if they are a one or a two?"

"Easy," I said, followed by grabbing Karl's arm and pushing him south while saying

"One," and then grabbing Sirus'es arm and sending him north saying "Two! NEXT!"

After a brief period of splitting up the sixty odd men present, I went over the,

well, plan is so formal...

"Ok, hastily scrawled out note! Karl, you take your men south and enter the town

that way, Sirus, you take yours north and do the same, we wait for the signal then

burn the rot out! ANY QUESTIONS?"

This time, rather quietly it was Karl who said "What is the Signal?"

Two loud bangs, in quick succession sounded out, about half a mile off in the

direction of town. "Ok, New Hastily scrawled note! Get them, in your own time,

Try not to burn each other or me!"

We hit the edge of town not quite at a run, more a respectable jog. The first

group of citizens we came across seemed truly surprised to see anyone coming into

town, let alone us.

Ch: 17 Come on if you think you're HARD ENOUGH!

(A:\>)

The first blast caught her by surprise, shoving her light frame back against the

pillar she started next to.

It also caught the guard in the elbow of the arm he had been opening the door

with. "Up, right, steady, PULL!" the Gremlin shouted in her ear, and before the

guard could start screaming or grip the remains of his right arm, a round splat

of blood appeared on his chest. Reflexive grip hardened against shock, dulled by

years of neglect, let her hold onto the...

Stick, that went Boom? A ringing in her ear slowly resolved into the Gremlin

screaming out the instructions on how to reload, which she ignored.

-Push lever with thumb

-Ignore the two red things, hold stick with left hand

-Put two unused red things in holes, brass part facing back

-Close Stick, listen for click

Breath in. Hold for four beats, Breath out, hold for four. Point stick at door,

in, hold for four. Walk to door, check, out, four...

Shout from unfriendly. In, point, trigger, out, hold...

Shout from locked room, in, pass, out, hold...

Door open, Smirking Bastard is not smirking, holding scroll, in, point, second

shot, no scroll. Out, thumb lever, reload...

Sounds of fear, outside, inside. S.B. scrabbling with his off-hand at one of his

daggers. No, her Steel Knife.

A scream, not his, not outside, not Gremlin, push the stick against his head.

In...

Hold...

Out...

Hold...

"Work the Bellows. Take your time, use your eyes, watch the flame, the iron,

everything. Don't loose pace, don't loose Temper..."

That is where Mr. Mark found her, later, standing over a man who had bled out

through the stump of where his right hand had been. She was clutching what she

knew to be the worlds most dangerous stick in one hand, and Forgers last gift in

the other, and barely noticed when in response to his asking if she were alright

the bag at her right hip started relating the story back to him...

She had seen him, here...

Had felt him move her arm...

Why did he have to leave again...

As the tears flowed, she pressed her head against the Raccoons leg, and said

"I just wanted to say goodbye!"

Ch: 18 And so we part

( )

She sat in her Squirl Skins, holding a scrap of dark turquoise fabric in her hand.

Next to her, on a 'Portable Power Pack' was another Datapad, apparently 'Hosting'

Expert, who had been both relieved that he had survived, and miffed that there

was nothing for him to do. They both sat on a shelf, over the door to the

courtroom, watching the trial of Madam Fro and Spotsworthy, the surviving

leadership of the Newhaven insurrection. The Judge, with visibly less hair where

the bandage did not cover it, had sat and listened to them for over a day now,

along with testimony from twelve others including Captain Sirus, Bishop Mesh,

Mayor Karl, Prime Trade Designate K of the Taiveg Consortium, and one Griffaline,

formerly of the Dragmore Clan before being adopted by Forger(Dec) of the Windholm

Alliance.

"So, Expert, what are your plans from here on out?" She asked. "We are going back

to the meadow we came in through, K thinks we stand a better chance getting back

home there. And we need to get home..."

She thought about it. "Yeah, you guys lost quite a bit of gear in that raid..."

"He needs to get back." was all Expert would say to her.

She thought about it some more. "Any open seats?" she asked. "I don't know, but

I think it might make him happy if two of you came along..."

"Two of us? But she...!" Expert flashed his screen, and she stopped. "She needs

help. She needs to learn. She might not want him, but he won't walk away from

her. Not until he knows she is ready and willing."

"And what of me, the Gremlin in the room? Will he walk away from me?"

Expert smiled at her, and said "Will you let him?"

(End of Line)