Subject: D&D Cartoon On-Line Fan Club Newsletter #7, Part 3 ****************************************************************** ?Shades? A Dungeons and Dragons Story by Sarah Pollard Legal blurb - The Dungeons and Dragons characters are not my creation and are the property of the Marvel Company. So there you are - I'll just give a full warning before I ask for feedback. This story is based on an idea of how the realm might work. I'm stressing its just an idea not a theory since I am sure all D&D fans have their own thoughts on the matter. I sincerely hope you'll enjoy my story and I'd be happy to receive any feedback. Send to: dpollard@hfnet.bt.co.uk Story Rating: PG * Chapter 1: Turning Grey Vraths were the nearest creatures in the Realm to the vultures of Earth, and were treated with a similar amount of terror and hatred by the Realm's inhabitants. Despite their scavenger natures', however, they were an intensely beautiful breed; their long serpent bodies moved with a fluid grace through the air, catching the waning sunlight on their delicate wings as they dove and rose. It was a flock of these creatures that now soared above the barren plain of the Tey lands, having just discovered a giant carcass far beneath them. Against a sky rich with the molten reds and oranges of sunset, the Vraths were prominent silhouettes of black, visible for miles around. Yet somehow the humans below had failed to notice them. They were too engaged in the frantic struggle to get back home, and had no care for the creatures flying high above. A single Vrath swooped toward the group, its hunger overriding its blatant fear of humans. Skillfully, it angled downward past the jagged rocks that jutted from the ground. It alighted as near to the carcass as it would dare. Aside from its need for food, it was also strangely curious about the events taking place beneath it. Why were the people running towards that broad white light? They seemed to be shouting encouragement at one another as they drew closer. One of them fell -a male human, from the appearance of his robes- and the others turned at his call. In anguish, two ran back to help, while the remaining humans waited desperately by the light source. Another second and there was an almighty explosion of light. It hurtled upwards towards the stars, causing the Vraths to scatter in frightened defeat. No food was ever worth danger, though they wondered fleetingly what that light could have been. "Aw, not again!" Bobby sighed. Yet another portal had vanished before his eyes, exploding in a flash of white light. He was left to stare miserably at the rock strewn ground. Far behind, yet another of the Realms monsters lay defeated; a giant, smouldering 'Isp' worm, to whom the life of the - just vanished - portal had been directly linked. It was always the same. Portals never just 'existed'; they were always tied by conditions or trials. This one had been fiercely guarded by the Isp worm, a collective organism formed from thousands of tiny worms, which had terrorised the nearby village. The Isp had ravaged local food supplies with the same devastation as a swarm of locusts; breaking into its component parts to devour crops, and bringing whatever it found back to the larvae-like queen at its core. The worm had given Breda's villagers two choices: attempt to fight, and be eaten, or give up all the food they had, and starve. Their only hope had been Dungeonmaster's six young pupils, and they had not been disappointed. Unfortunately, having vanquished the worm, the gang had cut short the life of the portal. They had tried desperately to reach it in time, but after a few seconds, their way home had simply disappeared. Hank tried to suppress his own disappointment as he consoled the Barbarian."It's not so bad, Bobby." he said brightly, giving the young boy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Think of all those people we saved from starving. They'll never have to suffer again." " Yeah... I guess." Bobby replied half heartedly. He attempted a smile that would prevent his sister from worrying. She was already too concerned with Presto, however. "Are you okay?" Sheila asked the magician in a soft, soothing voice. Holding his arms, she and Diana helped him to a rock on which he could sit. Presto looked at his injured ankle, hiding his eyes from the girls so that they wouldn't see his tears. "I...I'm sorry guys," he managed eventually. " We came really close this time. If I just hadn't fallen over that stone, we would have made it." Sheila sat down next to him, placing an arm round his shoulders. "Don't worry Presto. There'll be another portal." Presto was grateful for her concern, yet when he looked at her, his eyes were heavy with guilt. "You didn't have to wait for me," he said, addressing the whole group. "You could have just gone." "Presto!" Diana chided, "You're our friend!" She bent down to examine the magician's ankle, looking up into his face with gentle sympathy, "When we go home, we go together. Right Hank?" The Ranger looked up at the mention of his name, and was greeted with that familiar sparkle of hope and optimism he had grown to know so well in his friend. He smiled inwardly at Diana's high spirits, perhaps wondering how she kept it up. As for himself, well, he couldn't deny that doubt had begun to creep into his mind; after a whole year of questing, it seemed they had gotten nowhere. Nevertheless, Hank followed Diana's lead. "Right." he agreed "There'll be another time." Eric sat alone on the ground, a short distance from the others. He was shaking tiny pebbles from a metal boot and grumbling to himself as if he were senile. "I could smell those donuts cooking this time ... and the hot dogs with ketchup and fried onions, and..." "I'm sure the villagers would be happy to reward us with a meal, Eric," Hank cut in, overhearing Eric's words as he approached. Eric suppressed an inward shudder as his mind filled with images of leech soup, and roasted pondweed. It was all the villagers could offer them. "Sure Hank." he replied, allowing the ranger to help him to his feet. Eric turned toward Presto and smiled a slow, reassuring smile. "Need a hand, buddy?" he asked, quickly reaching his injured friend. He looped Presto's left arm around his neck for support, "Let's go get something to eat," he continued amiably, "I'm starving." Hank fought to keep a look of wonder from his face, and saw the same reaction echoed in Bobby and Diana; Eric's tact took every one of them by surprise. This certainly wasn't the Eric of a year ago, the Eric who would have complained thoughtlessly to Presto, and made the gang feel even worse than they already did. Now, the Cavalier knew to hold his tongue, and as he began to guide Presto back to Breda village, his lack of anger or bitterness toward his companion was obvious. Unfortunately, Hank could tell that Eric was not completely without resentment for this lost opportunity. They had missed the chance to go home dozens of times now, and as far as Eric was concerned, he and his friends were blameless. He was saving his anger for Venger - or Dungeonmaster. Breda village - their destination - was visible in the rock strewn landscape only as a tiny hint of light in the distance, beyond the remnants of what had once been a dense forest of greens and browns. Only dead stumps remained now. They began to make their way back, but their pace was deliberately unhurried. Presto was in no state to be rushed. Even with Hank and Eric supporting him on either side, the bumbling magician was in a fair degree of distress. Diana had quickly discovered that his ankle was dislocated, and needed attention. However, since they had brought nothing with them but their weapons, Presto would have to wait until they reached Breda. The two girls walked just a few steps behind, ahead of Bobby and Uni. Sheila turned toward her friend with a look that merged fatigue with deep, heartfelt sadness. "Sometimes it really doesn't seem fair." she said bitterly, making sure she spoke too quietly for Presto to overhear. She twisted the clasp of her cloak tightly between her fingers, "We deserve to go home." "You are correct Sheila," a new voice joined the conversation, "you do deserve to go home," A small man, dressed in red, had appeared magically from the shadow of a tree stump to their right. "Dungeonmaster!" Bobby gasped, his face visibly brightening. He was always happy to see the long haired wizard. "Greetings Barbarian." Dungeonmaster turned to face the rest of the group. "Sit down, young ones. I have something to tell you. Something of great importance." His tone was as calm and soothing as ever as he gestured for the group to sit around him, but this only served to rile Eric further. He regarded the wizard with considerable irritation. "Enough with the riddles DM, we're not in the mood." Eric was answered with typical reverence, hands raised and palms outward facing. "No riddles, Cavalier. Not this time." The boy gave a sigh of relief and settled on the dusty ground with the others. He looked to Presto - now working hard to lower himself without cringing - and suddenly felt the rise of fresh anger. It was true that he made fun of the magician as often as he could, but there had never been any real malice behind his sharp comments. He hated to see a friend of his in pain, and now he wondered if he hated Dungeonmaster as a result. "What the heck is it with you?!" he blurted out suddenly. "Shush, Eric!" Sheila looked at him in surprise. The others regarded him in wide-eyed silence. "No, Sheila, I mean it," he returned his gaze to Dungeonmaster, "It's always 'the heart of the mushroom' or 'the house without doors'. You might as well be speaking Japanese for all it helps us! And, even when we've worked out your crazy riddles, we still never make it through the portals. Why can't you just tell us how to get out of here?!" "Patience, Cavalier." Dungeonmaster said, seemingly unperturbed by Eric's outburst. "Listen to what I have to tell you. Then, perhaps, I can grant your wish." That silenced Eric, though his face still bore a touch of resentment. "You have travelled very far," Dungeonmaster continued, opening his arms in a gesture to encompass them, "You have proved yourselves in many ways, also. You have indeed earned your passage home." "But Dungeonmaster," Bobby's voice held the whining tone of a tired child, his enthusiasm at the wizard's appearance suddenly dissipating. "Why does it always go wrong? It's like we're cursed or somethin'." The robed man looked wistfully from one weary face to another. He saw that as always before, they awaited the sage if enigmatic advice they had come to expect. Yet this time he had none to give them. Now, in fact, was a time he had been fearful of; a time when his tie with the children might be severed beyond repair. Dungeonmaster had known, without the need for foresight, that it would come one day. With the first feelings of apprehension he had felt in so many years, Dungeonmaster drew in a deep breath, and prepared to tell a difficult truth. "I will show you something now," he said slowly, looking past the children and far out into the desert, "and you may not like what you see." He clasped his hands together, and where his fingers met, the tips glowed a hazy blue. "Looks like Dungeonmaster's gone radioactive." Eric muttered. Diana elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The soft, liquid light spread along the wizard's body, stretching and branching like the roots of a tree. Now that the final sun had set - leaving behind only a scarlet trail to mark its passage - Dungeonmaster became the only illumination in the lifeless landscape. It was a perfect reflection of his presence within the Realm. Yet, with the purple sky behind him, and the irridescent magic flowing over the lids of his eyes, he also resonated something eerie and unfathomable, a glowing ghost, a vision different to the Dungeonmaster they had come to know before. When he reopened his eyes once more, the strange magic channeled out, filling the space between his hands as a translucent vapour. An unnerving sight. The liquid grew again in its new position to form a large, watery rectangle, defying gravity as it hung in front of him in the air. Dungeonmaster was hidden from view for a moment, the screen seeming to be a shield that protected him. As the rectangle pulsed and darkened and rose above his head, a look of grim sadness filled Dungeonmaster's eyes. Now the truth would become known. An image moved onto the screen "Who's got the popcorn?" Eric couldn't help asking. He quickly followed with "Alright, alright, I'll shut up," to prevent a second dig in the ribs. The gang could see a forest in front of them, a seemingly limitless expanse of squat yellow trees, interrupted only by a few small settlements. The shot panned in on one of these villages. Now it was clear that many of the trees were houses themselves, hollowed out to provide living spaces, yet without causing any apparent damage. Examples of life in the village filled the 'screen' in brief flashes: meals in the centre of the village, people casting spells to aid the growth of fruit, the elders teaching children in a large earthen hallway. "This," Dungeonmaster told them "is my homeworld," His voice was low and stirring, like the narrator to some epic movie. "But I thought this was your home world?" Presto said after a pause. "No magician, and neither is it Venger's." The faces of all the children were blank with surprise, and no-one spoke further. They waited expectantly for Dungeonmaster to continue. He did not. Instead, a new scene was illustrated before them. A riverside, laced with silver and green, large white flowers moving up and down on the surface like butterflies, and a small group of children sitting at its edge. A boy and girl sat facing each other, both grinning as the others watched. As they turned their faces to the water, a single peak began to mould itself, a quiescent wave which rose like a charmed snake. It broke away and took on the form of a ball, its skin undulating; a shape unsure of what it ought to be. First left, then right, the globe rose and fell in the air, zigzagging in a dance of concentration. The audience cheered as the water game reached its height, calling even louder as the speed of the ball increased. With a cry of triumph, the girl player sent the water ball spinning toward her friend. It splashed over his clothes and face, wetting him from head to feet, and he laughed and splashed water back at her. The two got up to allow another pair to take their place. It was the best way Dungeonmaster could think of that would illustrate the workings of his own world. "On my planet, we live in complete peace," he explained, "though our world was once like your own." Red-cast scenes of blood and fighting now dominated the screen, interlaced with cityscapes and grey skylines. The images resembled Earth so much it was startling. "But, we resolved our differences," Dungeonmaster continued benignly, "and after many hundreds of years, our world recovered. We learned to fight our instincts instead of each other, and anger and war became known only in history books." Suddenly brightness erupted on the screen, and the friends closed their eyes to shut out the blinding light. It faded as quickly as it had appeared, showing a scene similar to the first they had witnessed. In the shadow of a small tree, speckled by the tiny rays of light that penetrated through the branches, a wise looking man was talking to a group of children around him. Diana recognised the figure instantly "Dungeonmaster, it's you!" she exclaimed. The wizard was younger looking, hair a thick brown mane which spilled down to his feet. In every other way he was the Dungeonmaster of the present: same robes, same manner, same knowing smile. He was demonstrating the magic that the children around him would soon begin to learn. "Yes, that was I, with my former pupils. And," Dungeonmaster hesitated "and the dark haired child you see on the right is...Venger." Eric reacted immediately."What? That's not Venger!" he interrupted, aghast. The Cavalier's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "He's...that kid's...normal!" The others were just as stunned. "I do not lie to you," Dungeonmaster said. His voice resonated with unmistakable sadness as he looked at the Cavalier. "It was I who taught Venger the magic of life, and I did not know, until it was too late, that he had also explored the magic of darkness. It was that same force which made him what he has become." "Why...why did he do it?" Sheila asked. She was still struggling to absorb everything she had just seen. "Child," he replied "I am afraid only Venger truly knows." The screen had faded to a pale dove grey, as if its images were powered by concentration. Only Dungeonmaster's voice remained constant."In part I am to blame for his mistakes, for I was blinded by his potential, and did not see that he might turn his powers toward darkness." As he finished speaking, colour grew inwards from the edges again. The new vision began to reveal a landscape unmistakably familiar. From the three moons, it could only belong to the Realm. The children watched as a dark haired teenage boy -no older than themselves- stepped through a vertical rip in the very air. He glanced back just once, a parting gaze to the world he had left behind forever. The boy's appearance was so normal, and it was that which most took them by surprise. He was dressed in a simple, formless outfit, and his face -though pale and slightly angular- was no different to that of any other boy. Neither did he carry any magic talisman or book of spells that would reveal what he was to become. There was just one aspect to him that resembled the Venger of the present; it was the peculiar red sheen to the boy's eyes. That, and only that, was recognisable in the evil force they had come to know. As the young Venger strode off into the distance, a second figure regarded him mournfully. The man that would soon be known as Dungeonmaster. The screen abruptly evaporated into fog. Now, the only light was the ghostly silver of the moon. "So that is why I came here, my young ones." Uni neighed softly and trotted over to nuzzle his hand. "I cannot explain my powers to you fully," Dungeonmaster continued, "but just as Venger and I chose to enter this world, so did we choose the form of our magic. "How come you didn't choose a magic that would defeat Venger?" Bobby asked. "If only it were that simple, Barbarian." Uni looked up, confused, and was given a reassuring pat before the old man continued, "I called you here, young ones, because that is the way of my magic. I can see what is to come, and, it is true that I have great power. However, by its very nature, I cannot affect directly the events that come to pass in the Realm. And that is why you were my only hope." "So..." Hank shrugged his shoulders, "...what about Venger? What did he choose?" Dungeonmaster raised an eyebrow in an expression he had used so often in the past. "He chose to become the embodiment of all evil; to be the very shadows, the blackness that lurks in the heart of even the kindest of men. His life became devoted to the nurture of this evil, for as it grew, so too did his power. The Realm would have been lost to his rule, were it not for your intervention." "Truly, you have saved this planet." The gang couldn't help but smile at one another. After all, how many people could say that they'd saved a whole world between them? "But Venger's still around, isn't he?" Presto asked, absently pushing his spectacles further up on his nose. "Now that you come to mention it," Sheila lowered her chin to her hand in thought "he hasn't attacked us in a long while." "Because he can't," Dungeonmaster said simply, "And now...I shall send you home." "WHAT?!" the gang exclaimed in unison, all eyes on him in shock. It was this truth that he had dreaded telling, and the reaction he had expected. Eric lifted himself from the ground and strode angrily toward the wizard, his finger pointed in accusation. "You're not telling me..." he jabbed at Dungeonmaster's chest "...that all this time, after all the hell and the horror we've been through, that all along you could have sent us home?" He inclined his head in assent. "I...I don't believe it. I do not believe it!" Eric turned away, red with anger. He smacked a hand to his forehead; it simply couldn't be true. Sheila sat with her knees pressed against her chest, her hands raised to a face that would soon be shiny with tears. "How could you put us through it Dungeonmaster? You were supposed to be our friend." She couldn't bring herself to say any more. Even Hank - the most level headed of all the children - stood with his fists clenched, his features twisted in sadness and pained disbelief. "Being here isn't the worst part." he said, his eyes narrow slits. "It's that you never told us. You never said a word." It was so strange to see Dungeonmaster as he stood now: not a wise magician, but a sorrowful and flawed little man. "Everyone makes mistakes, Ranger." he uttered, almost to himself. "I hoped you would have learned this by now." He had unconsciously taken a step backwards. "You can't turn this on Hank," Diana cut in defensively. She surprised even herself at her own fury. "You didn't trust us enough to tell us the truth. For a whole year we've struggled to stay alive in this place, away from our families, and our friends," she clenched her javelin tightly in her right hand. "Just to have seen them. Just to have been with my mom, my brother..." Her voice trailed off, yet her body remained tense, uncertain how to deal with the angry rush of adrenalin. Dungeonmaster looked at the children who'd once been his pupils. A single - almost invisible - teardrop wound its way down his cheek. "So, were the portals bait, or something?" Presto asked in a voice bereft of emotion. "A prize we could never hope to win?" Dungeonmaster met his gaze. "You must understand, magician, that you could not go home, I could not allow you to. If you had returned, Venger would have risen to power once again." "Are you saying you stopped us from getting back?!" Hank asked incredulously. He was unsure that he even wanted to know the answer. Dungeonmaster merely nodded, once again. "I knew it all along," Eric repressed a snarl, "I just knew it. Send us home, Dungeonmaster." He found himself lingering bitterly on the name, and hoping he would never have to say it again. With the simple gesture of a hand, another portal winked open, gaudy and bright against the night's darkness. Eric sped over the sand toward it and put his head through, withdrawing it once again with a tired smile. "We're going home guys."