A man in a brown cloak rode a giant golden bird.

The desert air was cool, but he could smell the heat that lay waiting in the stones. It was an hour before dawn.

Mighty brown talons crunched into red stone. The roc, Bird, landed on the wide shelf and came to a halt. The man swung down from his back, and gave his steed an absent-minded pat on the shoulder. He surveyed the surrounding area. The wide green metal grate leading into the abandoned prison was just visible in the gloom. No sounds came from within – the Sarmadi had swept their prison clean weeks ago, and left it empty for the traditional nine-and-ninety nights, for the sun and their goddess’ wrath to burn the place clean.

He was completely alone – it would be a perfect place for the meeting.

Talitha

A little girl tossed and turned on a bed of stone.

After the initial terror of her capture, Talitha had found the past few days intensely boring. Men had grabbed her, then rushed her to a new place binding her eyes with a dark cloth. She had been tossed into the back seat of a small aircraft, that smelled of clean leather. The engines had hummed, and short while later she had been pulled onto a larger craft. She was led to a smaller room, while calm, businesslike voices spoke in a language she didn’t understand. They tied her to a bed, and left her alone for several hours. She knew she was on an airship, the movement felt a lot like her home, the Lodestar.

Talitha had fallen asleep, and dreamed of running through a blue field with Crackers at her side.

She had awoken to being carried again, in bulky but gentle arms. The blindfold was removed, and she found herself in an odd stone room. A stone room with one wall missing. She had tiptoed to the edge, and looked down the side of a massive building, hundreds of rooms rising above above an unfamiliar coastline. To the left and right she saw many other buildings stretching as far as she could see. The roar of the surf was loud in her ears, and she could make out an odd tower standing all alone in the middle of the bay. She felt like she could almost reach out and touch it.

“Listen to me carefully.” the cool voice said.

“Who are you, where am I , what’s going on, are my friends allright, where’s my sword and why are you dressed in all black?” Talitha demanded.

An elegant black glove descended and slapped her firmly across the face.

“You instructions were to listen. That is all. Are you listening?”

“You hit like a girl—”

The black glove came down, and Talitha skipped to the side grabbing the incoming wrist the way that Master Fin had taught her. She twisted her body, and bent like a reed in the wind.

An elegant black boot swept her feet out from under her. Talitha’s head hit the stone floor. Pain overwhelmed her, her hands sliding weakly against the floor. She pulled her hand up, and saw there was frost on it, even though it was a perfectly balmy afternoon.

“Now you are listening. You will wait in this room. Food will be brought to you.You will eat it. You will not try to escape, or we will give you pain.”

The black glove tossed Talitha roughly onto a stone bed.

“I’m sure you are a nimble climber, but don’t try. You won’t like your neighbors.”

Talitha stared blearily at the finely tailored black coat as it turned to leave the room. On the back of it was a white circle, decorated with a cresting black wave.

The young girl turned over in fitful sleep, and waited for her heroes to come and rescue her.

The Street of Gods hummed with activity as the barbarian and cleric entered the South District. A street urchin had pointed the way, but the Temple of Seto was easy to spot.

“The Temple of the Burning Blade – I see now where the name comes from…” Bramble said quietly.

Sheets of gold had been hammered to the cream marble of the temple’s massive construction, the late afternoon sun reflected an orange blaze across the courseway. One of Pice’s rivers ran past, split by the temple’s shining glory.

The barbarian walked through the crowded streets, as if in a dream. Bramble speaks, but he hears it with only part of his mind.

Long ago, a great warrior came to the city of Vardeman, as Pice was once known. He had lived a long life of conquest and battle, and his skill with a sword was unmatched. With blade in hand, the rain could not touch him, the wind could not catch him, and his foes fell before him as wheat before the scythe.

The warrior had sought long for a suitable challenge worthy of his skill, for an enemy that could make his heart pump quick blood as in his youth. The Seers of Seroholm told him that if he came to Vardeman, he would find such a challenge.

The city was much smaller in those days, and mostly empty. In an abandoned square, by the river he found a stone fountain. The fountain was dry, and filled with dust. A young woman sat at the fountain, holding a vase.

“The warrior was impressed by her beauty, even though his youth had long since fled. ’I come seeking a great challenge.” said the swordsman, and the girl smiled and said ‘You have found it.’

Agnar stepped across the stone bridge, the water sounds of the river finding their own place in his mind. The worshipers of the sun goddess moved quickly to avoid the bemused barbarian.

Bramble continues, her voice dropping to a whisper as she and the barbarian enter the chapel proper. Vast marble balustrades span the high-domed chamber, stained glass refracting a million images of the Sun.

‘Let us fill the vase’ the girl suggested, ‘A simple task.’

The old warrior laughed, but the girl smiled so that he could not resist. He reached into the nearby stream, and brought water to the vase from his cupped hands. To his surprise, only dust poured into the vase. Determined he tried again – faster and faster his hands flew trying to fill the vase with water. Only dust fell from his hands.

The warrior’s ire was great, but he found himself calmed by the simple touch of the girl’s hand on his brow. He stood back a pace, as she simply said ‘My turn.’

She reached, not into the river but into the dry fountain. Grasping a handful of dust she flung it into the vase. A splash. The dust had become water, even as it left her hands. A few more handfuls of dust, and the vase was overflowing with pure, clean water

The girl smiled at the old swordsman. ‘Do you understand my riddle?’

Bramble grinned, and pulled Agnar down into a stone pew at the back of the nave. Sunset Service would be soon, and the people were entering in a steady stream.

“This was when my tutor would always look at me over his spectacles and ask, ’ Well, do you?’”.

The Lodestar
“… and the Black and White Monster came roaring out of the cave!”

Talitha brandished her sword expectantly. The moment hung, and nothing happened.

The little blonde girl stomped her foot.

“Crackers! Just like we practiced!”

Head low, the blink-dog emerges from behind the wheelhouse. His golden fur has been liberally marked with black soot.

Large black circles around his eyes gave the vague impression of a raccoon. Clearly, Talitha thought this wasn’t suitably fearsome, so a black cloak [Carbunkle recognized his best rain cloak] has been tied around him. Looking deeply ashamed, the dog slunk in front of the backdrop and gives a half-hearted yelp.

“AH HA! The Black and White Monster! Face my sword, evil one!”

Very seriously, Talitha bonked the young dog on the head – taking great care to not damage him in any way. Crackers gives a long-suffering sigh and lays down on the deck. The little blonde girl smiled hugely, and stands behind her fallen foe.

“So the Hero-Princess Talitha is victorious at last, and went back to have ice cream and cake with the rest of her friends. The evil Black and White Monster was gone forever, and everyone gave the Hero-Princess a big hug! And they all lived happily ever after. THE END!”

Talitha bowed with a grand flourish, her armor desperately trying to hold its integrity.

The crew applauded, and laughed as the sun dipped below the horizon. A few more cookies are dispensed, and the poor Black and White Monster is given a quick bath by Echo and The Vagabonder. Talitha whirled back and forth to each of the crew, demanding honest feedback and re-enacting choice scenes with little or no encouragement. Despite all the danger and tension of the last few days, honest smiles are shared and a few “big hugs” easily secured to reward the Hero-Princess.

The last light of the setting sun catches these sights, as the Lodestar flew on south across the Great Sea.

Flenelle
Izus pulled the dagger softly free from the young boy’s chest. He had ended the child’s life so swiftly, that the dark-haired boy seemed to sigh into a deeper slumber.

The bedchamber was quiet. The house was quiet. The brown-cloaked man’s work was almost finished.
He wandered idly through the family’s library. A frown creased his face when he saw that the father’s heartblood had sprayed over a rather fine edition of Tonics and Tinctures of the Altan Greenspeakers.

So wasteful, he thought. But no matter…

Izus stepped carefully over the dozen bodies that littered the hallway. The house guard had been quite fervent in their defense. The brown-cloaked man casually ran a finger along the wall as he walked – a ripple of green and purple flame following. The stone began to burn.

Why had he left the boy for last? Chance? Perhaps to lengthen his last dream.

The mother’s body was slumped in the doorway, gushing blood onto the steps. Her form was wedged in front of the door, so Isuz sent one last gout of strange flame, reducing her to ashes.

He shut the door behind him.

Izus Torrosian turned back only once, as the green and purple inferno began to consume the manor. The estate shared the street with several other fine homes. His flame was beginning to dissipate into honest fire, but he could see it licking through the grass, hungry to burn. This whole tier of the city could very shortly be ablaze.

Wasteful, he thought. But no matter…

A flash of golden feathers, and the roc landed before him. The brown-cloaked man pulled himself up onto Bird’s strong back, and sent him skyward with a thought. In a moment, they were winging through an open space in the walls, leaving the spreading flame behind them.

The brown-cloaked man’s work was finished.

The brown-cloaked man’s work was only beginning.

Somewhere
Two thieves sat uncomfortably in a smoky room at the back of an inn. The money was good that had brought them here, but the contacts had all warned against pursuing the job. Dark rumors surrounded this employer, and the deeply cowled figure sitting across from them did nothing to alleviate their concerns.Their new employer’s voice is soft and sweet, but the temperature dropped steadily during his instructions. Each thief’s breath steamed as they exhaled. The cowl turned towards the first thief.

“So we have a contract?”

Sweat beaded on the thief’s nose, and he nodded. A half second later the second thief jiggled his flabby jowls in assent.

The hooded figure continued.

“Bring me the girl alive.”

The two thieves almost leaped out of their chairs in relief, and made their way to the door. On the back of their vests, black wings are marked.

Frost gathered on their abandoned mugs. The room was empty.

Pice
Ananda’s naked form shone in the light of the White Moon. She rose from the bed, leaving her current distraction gasping, eyes wide.

He won’t last much longer. Pity.

The Moonchylde’s lovers rarely lasted much beyond a fistful of days.

Her glass spectacles floated across the room, trailing white ribbons. Of their own volition, they threaded themselves through the piercings that rim her face. The dark-haired woman looked out at the White Moon and smiled – looking past it towards the small sliver of the Black Moon, receding on the horizon.

Come soon, my love…