Chapter Three: Onward, To The Wood

L exzurick smiled as he walked up the twirling staircase of the Tower of High Magic, he could hear the sounds of his companion Sccyloore following him. Across from the Orb of Darkness was the laboratory. Lexzurick smiled as he looked to his companion. “Shall we stop and have a look?” 

Sccyloore smirked but shook his head; there would be time for all the riches in the world when they were finished. 

“Then on to the Underdark I guess,” Lexzurick said, matter-of-factly.  

Sccyloore smirked again, “yes, let us go,” he said. 

Lexzurick walked up to the glowing, dark-purple orb in the center of the room.  Laying the palm of his hand across it, and closing his eyes he said aloud, “Hal shelgras ni’ incavar.”

Suddenly his eyes flicked open; he blinked twice, and scowled.  “Something is wrong,” he growled, “We should have just been transported into the Underdark.” 

After what seemed like hours of thought he finally let out a sigh and said, “Someone else must have entered the Underdark today,” he walked over to the window and continued, “The orb will only let so many people through a day.” 

Sccyloore frowned, staring towards the dark, jagged forms of the Skylian Mountains in the distance, “then we shall have to enter another way,” he said slowly. 

“Yes,” Lexzurick said sighing again, “but the only other entrance is at the base of the Skylian Mountains.” 

Sccyloore made a face, looking out at the forest between them and the mountains, and said, “Damn, we cannot teleport over the Darkdren Wood.” 

The young blood mage at the window nodded solemnly and said, “quite, but that means we are in need of a pair of steeds.” 

At this Sccyloore smiled, “I will handle the steeds,” he said, turning to rush back down the steps from whence they came. 

Lexzurick, with a slightly puzzled look on his face, hastened to fallow.  When he got to the bottom of the long, spiraling staircase of the tower he paused, peering around for his companion in the dark courtyard. 

Finally, as he looked to his right, Lexzurick saw Sccyloore.  He was kneeling, seemingly talking to an owl.  As Lexzurick watched the owl flew away and, seconds later, two huge, dark purple tigers, known as nightclaws, materialized out of the shadows of the courtyard wall. 

Walking up behind Sccyloore, Lexzurick said, “I trust these are natives of your homeland?” 

“Nay,” said Sccyloore with a smile, “they are native me.” 

Lexzurick smiled and hesitantly walked forward to lay a hand on the giant feline.  As he placed his hand on it back it playfully nipped at Lexzurick’s arm. 

Sccyloore grinned and vaulted nimbly onto his nightclaw.  Lexzurick climbed onto his with considerably less confidence. 

Lexzurick struggled momentarily to get his nightclaw into a carful walk, while Sccyloore gave only a quick kick to the giant cat’s flanks.  As they walked out of the courtyard gates into the night the call of a barn owl was heard above them. 

They made good time coming up to the Darkdren, but paused at the beginning of the path through the deep, trembling forest.  Listening closely, Lexzurick heard the screech of a bat from inside of the trees.  A tear rolled down his cheek, the screech reminded him of his home, a place that he never thought he would return to. 

To Sccyloore the screech was a symbol of contentment.  It reminded him of lonesome nights spent meditating in forests, very similar to this one.  He smiled in anticipation of the quiet darkness of the Darkdren. 

As they entered the forest Lexzurick yawned, and said, “We should find a good place to bed down for the night.” 

Sccyloore agreed, but insisted on taking the first watch.  As they set up camp in a cramped clearing, with thick bushes surrounding it, Sccyloore said, “I don’t believe that I will get much sleep at all in this wonderful darkness!” he was grinning from ear-to-ear. 

Lexzurick smiled, twisting a silver ring on his finger.  “What do you think of the drow?” he asked suddenly. 

Sccyloore puzzled by the sudden outburst, though momentarily, “Well, I’m not against them,” he said in answer, “but then again I’m not exactly for them either.” 

Lexzurick grimaced and slowly, deliberately removed the ring that he had been twisting.  A soft glow appeared around him and his skin began to change from the plain tanned skin of a Common, to the deep grey-black of a drow. 

Sccyloore raised his eyebrows and smiled, “I knew there was something funny about you,” he scoffed. 

Lexzurick shook his long, scarlet hair returning the grin, “it feels good to be back in normal form,” he said happily. 

As he lay down to sleep, the drow smiled restfully.  The goranaha, sitting on the other side of the small clearing, also smiled.  He sat in a cross-legged pose and closed his eyes in meditation. 

~

About an hour later there was a sudden rustle in the bushes surrounding the two traveler’s camp site.  Sccyloore’s eyes shot wide open.  Silence.  Then, just as Sccyloore was closing his eyes again there was another rustle in the bushes.  This time Sccyloore kept his eyes open slightly.

There! A flash of red in the bushes.  Sccyloore slowly stood and, nudging Lexzurick awake on his way, walked to a bush opposite the one with the red creature in it and started rummaging around in it for someone who he knew wasn’t there. 

There was a soft snicker from the creature-bush.  Hearing this Lexzurick stood and rummaged in the bushes to the right. 

Suddenly a group of thieves burst out of the creature-bush. Their leader was dressed in bright red armor. 

As the red-clad robber ran towards Sccyloore, he was blasted back into the bushed by a thick force-field from Lexzurick’s right hand.  He was using the other hand to conjure up blood-red, skeletal warriors to defend him. 

As Sccyloore turned to face the enemy he reached to the seeming emptiness of his back.  But as he closed his hands into fists two long, sheathed, swords appeared out of shadow on his back.  He drew them, revealing them to be Glamdring, the hook-ended katana of a ninja.  As he lashed out mercilessly with the long, tempered-steel blades, he left a path of blood and gore in his wake. 

Lexzurick, attacking with the same calm precision as Sccyloore, was taking lives from a distance, blasting his enemies with bursts of magic.  His undead warriors were attacking with slightly less fineness, hacking angrily with black blades. 

The battle was over in a matter of minutes, the dead bodies of the thieves lay all around the small clearing.  Even so the pair kept their eyes and ears open. 

They saw the blood that the thieves had spilt, they saw the green trees and bushes, seemingly untouched, and they saw the flash of moving red armor in the bush that the thief leader had been thrown into. 

Sccyloore rushed over and grabbed the back of the man’s armor, just as he thought he could get away.  Before he knew what was happening the robber had his nose in the dirt. 

“What is your name?” Sccyloore asked gruffly. 

“Sarcose!” cried the thief, “my name is Sarcose!” 

Sccyloore pulled the man into a standing position, “well Sarcose,” he said maniacally, “have you learned your lesson about attacking travelers while they sleep?”

In answer Sarcose spit on the ground.  Then Sccyloore gave him a swift kick in the back of the knee.  “Yes,” the thief yelled, “yes!” 

At this Sccyloore let go of Sarcose, sending flying into a bush and out of sight.  But there was still something wrong, the sound of a chain jingling nearby.  Lexzurick joined Sccyloore and they went to investigate.  What they saw made Sccyloore burst out laughing. 

There, tethered to a tree was a tiny man, completely covered in white, fungus-like, skin, except for the top of his head, which had a huge, wide, bright-green cap, like that of a mushroom. 

After a moment the shroomelf, for that is what he was, said, “Be beggin’ yer pardin lord, but, could you be obligin’ to unteather me?” 

This brought another round of laughs, at the end of which Sccyloore bent down and used magic to open the cuff that was clapped around the small creature’s neck. 

“What’s your name little fellow?” Lexzurick asked. 

The shroomelf smiled and said, “I be Samuel Robertson Fungular, cleric of Heliosor, goddess of the sun.” 

Lexzurick said, “Well Samuel…” 

“Robertson,” the shroomelf said. 

“Ah, well Robertson,” said Lexzurick, “how would you like to accompany us to the Underdark.” 

Robertson twisted his mouth into a small, puckered, circle, “the Underdark eh?” he said, “I don’t know, seemin’ like such a large, dark place fer such a small bit of fungus like me.” 

“Untrue!” Lexzurick Declared Loudly. 

“Well there is scant reason why I shan’t be acompanyin’ ye,” Robertson said with a wide smile and a low bow. 

With that said they set off for the mountains once more.  Sccyloore summoned a Gorcat, a miniature version of a Nightclaw, for Robertson to ride on.  It took the whole day to reach the base of the mountains, and when they did, the Underdark loomed. 

~

The Servant stood quietly at the edge of the Darkdren, whatching and waiting.  It would not be long now, Sccyloores world would come down around his head.