Subject: D&D Cartoon On-Line Fan Club Newsletter Spring 1999 -- Part 3!

D&D Cartoon Fan Fiction Corner

The Downward Spiral
by Shawn Foster
Just how did Venger become Venger?
Shawn Foster (1998) copyrights this story though it is based upon the
characters and precepts of the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon, whose copyright
is owned by others. No challenge to the original copyright is intended.
Permission is hereby given to copy and distribute this story, so long as the
credit is given to the proper author.
Story Rating -- PG

"Welcome, Dekion.  You are to be one of the chosen.  You have entered into the
service of the Celestial Knights."

Dekion looked around at in amazement at what he saw.  He was actually going to
become a Celestial Knight someday!  The Knights were legendary in their deeds,
and he was going to be one!

"I've been meaning to ask you since we met.  What is your role in all of this,
Dungeon Master?" said Dekion.

The small one turned around in the doorway of the Tower of the Celestial
Knights.  The mists that surrounded the Tower seemed to avoid the small man,
somehow.  He could make him out in the mist, but then again, he couldn't.  "I
am the advisor, if you will, for the Knights.  I started them many a year ago
to assist in keeping the Realm safe from the forces of evil.  After all, even
a Dungeon Master needs assistance."

Dekion was amazed at that last statement.  In all of his 16 years, he had
never met one as the Dungeon Master.  He had heard so many stories of the
man...not really the ruler of the Realm, and not really ruling.  More like
guiding.  Showing up to help, but not really helping directly.  He was always
sought for advice, but usually ended up saying something totally different.
He had an insight unlike no one else in the Realm.  He had always heard the
Dungeon Master was very powerful, but never believed he actually needed
'help'.

"I help the Knights recruit those worthy into their ranks, and assist in their
transition from normal citizens of the Realm to Celestial Knight."

Dekion looked at the Dungeon Master with an odd look.. not disappointment, but
wonder.  "I never thought I would be a Celestial Knight.  But if I am to be a
knight, I look forward to the challenge of battle, and getting my sacred
name!"

The Dungeon Master looked at him...almost as he was looking through him.
"Youth", he thought to himself.

"A Knight's life is more than battle.  Knowledge and compassion are the most
important weapons a Knight can have.  As far as your Celestial name, you will
get that in time. Remember...a Knight gives up his right to be a normal
citizen, and with that gives up his name, but receives one in return.  A
Knight's name is more than a name: it embodies who he is, and what he stands
for.  But you are a long way from that day, Dekion.  You must first learn the
ways of the Knights."

As he said those words, a flock of warbirds cried out and came down to roost.
All of them had riders on them.

Dekion was taken aback at the sight.  "Celestial Knights!  I am actually going
to join their ranks!" he thought to himself.

"What say there, Dungeon Master?  Another to join us?  It will be good to get
some freshness and vitality into this old crew!" said a tall and powerful
looking Knight.

"Speak for yourself, Valor.  I see nothing wrong with age and wisdom!" shouted
back the Dungeon Master.

"Valor," thought Dekion.  "The leader of the Knights...what an honor!"  He was
actually going to be serving with Valor!

"Come, young one!" said Valor.  "Leave us to enter the Tower and introduce you
to your new life...and your brothers!"

As they entered the Tower, Dekion was in awe.  His mind wandered back to how
this all came about.  He was just helping people out in his village when he
heard the scream.  He had always stood up for the little ones around him.
Dekion was a little larger then most his age, and didn't like when others
picked on the small children in his village.  When the outsider had taken Lord
Lassiter's daughter by the throat, right there in front of everyone in the
Town Square...he just reacted.  The man in the chain mail demanded a horse and
money, and a head start.  Dekion didn't care...didn't listen to the guards who
beckoned him away...didn't listen to his friends telling him to stand down.
Someone was in trouble, and he had to do something.  He was compelled to.

Dekion was not only tall for his age, but also strong and fast.  He moved as a
blur and jumped over the street musician's stand to where the man held the
girl, and took him down without hurting her in one fell swoop.

"Unbelievable!  I've never seen anyone move that fast!  He could be a great
hero if he wanted!"

Many cheers and shouts came from the crowd.  Many statements were said and
most all of them were dismissed as the wonder of the moment...except that they
were all heard.  A small white-haired man in the back of the crowd heard
all...and waited.

After the scene had calmed down, and everyone scurried back to their shops and
taverns, he was called before Lord Lassiter, lord of the village and the
valley around.

"Dekion, my friend," said the lord,  "You have done a deed today not seen very
often.  Most would have done nothing.  But you acted.  And this was not the
first time, was it, my young impetuous one?"

"N..n..n..n..n..no sir.", he managed to jammer out.  "I don't like those who
are stronger picking on someone who can't defend themselves.  It's not right."

The lord laughed. "What an idealistic young man!  Let me reward you, my boy!
What shall it be?"

"Nothing, my lord." replied Dekion.  "I didn't do it for money or reward...it
did it because it was right."  He didn't say he liked to fight a little
bit...he figured he better not say that in the company he was in.

Just then, a voice was heard from behind the throne of the lord.  "Truer words
were never spoken."  And from behind the throne came the small white-haired
man from the crowd.

"Dungeon Master!  What brings you to my fair little town?" asked the lord.

"He did," the Dungeon Master said as he pointed to Dekion.  "I am here to
offer him a chance to become something greater than he ever imagined."

"DEKION!  Where is your mind, boy?" yelled Valor.  "Come meet your brothers!"

The sound of Valor's voice booming throughout the mighty Tower brought
Dekion's thoughts back to the present.  As he looked around the Tower, he
could not believe his eyes.  Dungeon Master told him that the Tower was a
magical place, but this was unbelievable.  The outside of the tower was so
small in diameter, but it was larger than even Lord Lassiter's hall on the
inside.

Many rooms, and statues!  Halls and swords and shields!  What a grand place,
Dekion remarked to himself.  He would be very happy here, he hoped.  Actually,
he was a little intimidated by all he saw.   As the others went into the main
hall, Dekion just stood there, looking up throughout the Tower, with his mouth
wide open.

"Come, young one.  There is much to do, and many people you must meet."

Dekion looked up to see Dungeon Master.  He was usually right, so he moved on
with him.

As they entered the great hall, there was a great feast in the middle of the
room, and many men around.  They were all dressed the same: Bright yellow
tunics with red capes over gray chainmail.  At one side, a spiked helmet in
their hand; the other side sheathed a sword.

The Dungeon Master moved his way through the hall and stopped to rest at the
top of a small staircase at the side of the room.  "Celestial Knights, I come
before you with your newest member.  He is Dekion.  Come...meet and greet him
and call out your name!"

Dekion was two steps below Dungeon Master, so he could meet the famed Knights
one by one.  He felt like he was in court on a receiving line.

"We have met already, Dekion.  I am Valor, leader of the Knights.  As my name
says, I fight with valor and conviction!  Welcome to you, my boy!"

He slapped Dekion on the back of his shoulders so hard, he thought he was
going to fall down the stairs.  He loved it!

Another stepped up. "Don't listen to Valor, my boy!  He's more headstrong then
any of us!  Dungeon Master should have named him Stubborn!"

A great laughter came from the hall, and Dekion couldn't help but giggle a
little.  But he looked up at Dungeon Master, who looked a little serious, as
if his thoughts were elsewhere.  He thought to himself that he had better
straighten up and be a little more serious.  At that point, another man came
up.  A large man with huge hands and a beard.  When Dekion shook his hands, he
felt like his arms would be ripped from their sockets.  And he had a very loud
voice...

"My name is Courage.  Hopefully, your service to the Knights will be as
courageous as mine has been.  Have you ever heard of the time the Ogre of
Black Forest had come out and.."

"Yes, Courage," said Dungeon Master.  "We have...why don't you get the young
one a meal?"

?Yes, sir," and off he went.

Dungeon Master smiled at Dekion as Courage moved off.  Dekion met more of his
future brothers...Valiant, Hero, Bravery, Adventure, and many others.  Dekion
was having a great time with the band of heroes.  He was glad that Dungeon
Master had chosen him.  He was starting to wonder who he would be assigned to,
and what name he would be given.  But that was a long way off...many things
had to happen between then and now.

All of sudden, a mighty roar came from outside the Tower, and the doors burst
wide open.  A very large and powerful Knight strode through the Hall, and all
hailed him as he came through.

"The deed is done, my brothers.  The wizard Malezian will never cast another
evil spell on that valley again." he said in a large booming voice.  "Thank
you for the assistance in the finding of the correct magic to battle this one,
Dungeon Master.  It was right, as you usually are."  He said it with a little
sneer in his voice...nothing malevolent...more arrogant than anything.

Dungeon Master looked at the newcomer with a little bit of hesitation, but
nevertheless smiled at him.   Dekion wondered what the Dungeon Master was
thinking, but then, the Dungeon Master spoke to the latecomer.

"You're quite welcome, my friend.  Come, and meet your newest charge."

The tallest of the Knights came over.  Even though Dekion was three steps
above the floor, the Knight was still taller than he was.

"What is your name, boy?" said the Knight.

For some reason, Dekion's mouth didn't work very well.  Of course, looking up
at this imposing figure probably had something to do with it.

"Dek..Dek..Dekion, sir.  My name is Dekion.  And what is your name, if I may
ask?"

"You may, as we will be serving together.  I am the bringer of righteousness
and justice to those who abuse their power.  I strike a blow for those who
cannot strike back to oppression."

"I am Avenger."

To be continued...

The City of Silver Fire
by Buggman (MdBugg@aol.com)
Author's note:  This story is a work crafted out of love for the original
Dungeons & Dragons cartoon, which is owned by TSR and Marvel.  Don't sue me,
you won't get anything.  On the other hand, if you like the story and want to
copy it, please do--just make sure that my name stays on the by-line.
Story Rating: PG-13

Chapter 4:  Divided Paths
        Hank tensed, reaching for the invisible, magical string of his bow with a
hand that still shook and ached from the Drow's spell.  "It's me," Eric's
voice hissed, barely audible above the wail of the storm-tortured woods, and a
gauntleted hand pulled back the thick vines that concealed the shallow cave.
Hank relaxed as the Cavalier darted in and quickly rearranged the vines over
their makeshift lair.  Eric was barely visible in the gloom, and when he
pushed back the hood of the black cloak that he wore, it seemed almost as if a
disembodied head had taken shelter with the Ranger.
        "Here," Eric said, pulling the wadded bundle of a second cloak from beneath
the first and tossing it to Hank.  "They're warm, at least.  Feeling better?"
        Hank grunted as he wrapped the cloak around himself.  "I haven't shook this
badly since I zapped myself plugging in the Christmas tree as a kid," he said.
The irony of his words, the fact that both of them were still, in fact, kids
went unnoticed by both.  "But I'll be fine in another hour or so."  The Ranger
hesitated.  "How were things out there?"
        Eric paused and shrugged before seating himself on a stone and pulling his
cloak tightly around himself against the damp, cold wind.  "Ah, well, nothing
the ol' Cavalier couldn't handle, you know?"  For a bare moment, Hank caught
sight of Eric's gauntlet, spattered with something ruddy.  He was suddenly
aware of the faint scent of blood on the cloak he wore.  "The guys who donated
these rags," Eric went on, his voice seemingly smug, "weren't too much
trouble.  I don't think the first one ever saw me coming."
        Eric's customary braggadocio used to bother Hank, back in those early weeks
in the Realm when he had used them to cover up his complete cowardliness, as
Hank and the others had seen it.  As they had continued to travel together and
fight alongside each other, Hank had seen that cowardliness scorched away, but
the arrogance that had shielded it had remained.  Now it veiled, however thin
and torn it often was, fears and insecurities that ran far deeper than a
simple fear of loss of comfort, or even life.
        The scent of blood in his nostrils, Hank looked at Eric with a mixture of
respect and pity.  Respect, because the Cavalier was now a far better person
than he had once tried to pretend.  Pity, because it was the first time Eric
had ever killed, even while he was under the curse of the Warduke's helm, and
Hank remembered his first time.
        "Are you okay?" Hank asked.
        Eric stiffened like a guilty man caught, and then sighed.  "Sure," he said.
"I'm just wonderful."  He tossed back his cloak and drew his sword.  The pale
blade gleamed like ice, even in the darkness of the little cave.  Eric glared
down at it.  "Just wonderful," he repeated, and then, in a whisper, "I hate
you."
        "Very good, Cavalier," said a voice all at once vigorous and cracked with
age, making them both jump.  The vines were pulled out of the way with a
gnarled hand, and the ancient, gnomish figure of the Dungeon Master stepped
in, holding a dim, silvery light in his hand.  Despite the tempest outside,
the Dungeon Master was dry and untouched by the rain.  Though the small man
had often claimed that he had no power over the things wrought by nature, it
seemed to Hank that even the elements treated the elderly wizard with respect.
        Eric, as a rule, did not.  "Oh, so NOW you show up," he snapped, quickly
resheathing his blade.  "You know, it'd be really nice if you would show up
while we're in trouble, instead of before or after."
        The Dungeon Master smiled at him in a gentle, soothing way.  "How then would
you learn and grow, Cavalier?"
        Eric snarled.  "You call THIS learning?" he demanded, holding up his hand so
that the Dungeon Master could see the stain on the leather that sheathed it.
        The Dungeon Master nodded, smile faded into seriousness.  "Indeed I do.  Tell
me, Cavalier, how did it feel?"
        Eric breathed hard, glaring at the Dungeon Master as if about to split his
skull.  "I hate it," he muttered.
        Hank started to break in, "Dunge--" but the Dungeon Master cut him off with a
lifted hand without looking away from Eric.
        The Dungeon Master nodded.  "Exactly.  Yet you did it anyway, because you had
to in order to save both of your lives.  Sometimes, Cavalier, we must do
things that we hate, things that it wounds our souls to do, in order to save
those we love."  Eric still glowered, but it had softened somewhat.  He nodded
slowly, and the Dungeon Master continued, "That is a painful lesson, Cavalier,
but one well-learned.  The Ranger can tell you somewhat about it."
        The old mage glanced his way, and Hank nodded.  "Yeah, I guess I can."
        "So what's the mission this time, O Bringer of Trouble?" demanded Eric.
        "You must find the Third Key, young Cavalier -- the third of the trio of
swords that must be brought to the City of the Elves if you are to unlock the
Silver Fire."
        "We were just going to do that," said Hank, "when we got separated from the
others.  If you could tell us where to find them . . ."
        "I fear I cannot, Ranger.  Time is short, and if you would save the Silver
Fire from Venger, the two of you must begin down this path alone."
        "Say what?" said Eric in a flat tone.
        "But what about She . . . what about the others, I mean?" asked Hank.
        "They have their own task, Ranger, which I am about to go to give them.  They
must go quickly and find the Silver Falcon, for it will take them time to
master it."
        "Hmmph."
        "Shh, Eric."  Hank ignored the dark-eyed glare the other briefly shot at him.
        "Fear not over much for their safety, my young friends, for they will travel
with the protection of the Elves.  Indeed, your road is darker than theirs."
        "That's a comfort," Eric snapped.  His hand had once again found the hilt of
his sword.  "So can we have the customary riddle already?  So we can get
started?"
        The Dungeon Master smiled.  "I thought that you'd never ask, Cavalier.  To
find the Flametongue, you must first find your beloved servant.  Only her
master can lead you to it."  He turned to leave, and Eric rose to his feet.
        "Waitaminute," he said.  "Are you talking about someone I . . . ordered
around while I was the Warduke, or . . ."
        Dungeon Master did not slow, but pushed aside the concealing vines even as he
answered:  "My words mean what they say, Cavalier.  Be strong, both of you."
And just like that, he was gone, the vines falling shut behind him.
        Neither young man tried to follow him for more answers, both knowing full
well that the old wizard would have already vanished.  "He's gone again," Hank
said, more to complete the ritual than anything else.
        "No kidding.  I wish that he'd either stay gone or tell us something useful
for a change," Eric grumbled.  Then he sighed heavily.  "Are you up to
traveling, or . . . ?"
        Hank stood, the shivering pain in his bones all but gone.  "I can make it."

        Despite the invisibility that her cloak conferred on her, Sheila steered
clear of the small groups of Drow that scouted the land together.  She had
seen more than one using magic, and though her cloak had proved impervious to
Venger's mage-sight, she saw no reason to take chances.
        She could remember a time--what, a year ago?--when she couldn't have thought
of any good reason to take a chance on anything.  She looked back on her life
before the Realm with a mixture of wistfulness and regret.  Regret, because
she could think of so many opportunities she had missed because of her
timidity.  Silently, as she slipped around a prickly hedge, Sheila promised
herself that if she ever made it back home, she would take some chances,
starting with cheerleading tryouts.
        Her heart suddenly leaped into her throat as a small figure stepped out in
front of her.  It kept pounding even after her brain had noted the size and
the color of the robes and drawn the correct conclusion.  "Dungeon Master?"
she asked in a strangled whisper.
        "This way, dear one," the ancient wizard told her, leading her up a shallow
valley on the far side of the hedge.  Sheila followed gratefully.  It never
occurred to her to wonder how he had seen her; after all, he was the Dungeon
Master.
        She glanced around.  They seemed to be alone, but she kept her voice low.
"Have you seen the others?" she asked.  "Are they okay?"
        "They are alive and whole, dear one," the Dungeon Master assured her.
"Bruised and worn, yes, but nothing that will not heal."
        Sheila breathed a sigh of relief.  "Are you taking me to them?"

        "To a point.  Then you will take me."
        "What do you mean?"
        The Dungeon Master ignored the question for a moment, until he had led her to
a small clearing, maybe the size of her bedroom back home.  "Here.  We are
safe for the moment."
        Sheila pushed back her hood and reappeared.  Cold rain once again pelted her
head.  "Now what?"
        "Now you must find the Sidhe."
        Sheila blinked in confusion.  "But haven't you been there before?"
        "Of course, dear one.  But you must find it now."  The Dungeon Master smiled
confidently at her.  Sheila didn't feel so sure, but she began circling the
clearing, looking for some clue that would lead them to the Sidhe.  "No, not
that way, child.  You will never find it with your eyes," the Dungeon Master
told her, still smiling in full confidence.  "You must use your heart."
        "Naturally," she muttered.  She looked around the clearing one more time, and
then closed her eyes.  She listened to the sound of her heart beating.  It
seemed impossibly loud in her ears.  Vaguely, she was aware of the Dungeon
Master telling her that she was doing well, but she blocked that out.  She
became aware of a resonance, an echo of her heartbeat coming from outside of
her body.  Slowly, eyes only half-opened, she walked towards the resonance.
        After a time, the Dungeon Master said, "You can open your eyes now."  She
opened them fully, and saw that they stood on a narrow path through the trees
and brush.  Ahead of them, light broke through the trees, as if a hole had
opened for the sun in the dark blanket overhead.  Sheila ran towards it.  The
path ended in a vast clearing.  Huge trees held up a canopy of leaves like the
pillars in an ancient cathedral.  The ground sloped gently downward from the
path until it reached a small, still lake, where Sheila could see people
gathered on the shore.  She walked towards them, a little slower now, the
Dungeon Master walking placidly beside her.
        Suddenly a shout came out of the small crowd, and they parted to let a
golden-haired child escape.  "Sheila!  Sheila!"
        "Bobby!"  Brother and sister embraced, grateful as always to see each other
safe.  After a moment of embracing him with eyes closed, she opened them and
looked over his shoulder at the approaching crowd.  Presto stood there with
one hand at Diana's elbow as if to steady her, and Uni stood near Bobby as
always, but . . .
        "Where are Hank and Eric?" she asked.
        Presto and Diana's eyes met briefly.  "We had hoped that they were with you,"
Diana said.
        "They are safe," the Dungeon Master said, sitting down carelessly in the
grass.  "I spoke with them only minutes ago."
        "Then why didn't you show them where to find us?" asked Bobby.  The boy had
disengaged himself from his sister rather abruptly, as if suddenly self-
conscious of the "mushy stuff."
        "Yeah!" neighed Uni.
        "Because time is short, and they have a mission of their own to complete if
you are to beat Venger to the City of Silver Fire."
        "What mission?" asked Presto.
        "To find the Third Key.  While they accomplish this, you must find the Silver
Falcon.  It is hidden by the Sea of the Setting Suns, and can be seen only
from the top of the Fallen Tower."
        "Eeh?" bleated Uni, snorting.
        "How can you see something from a tower that's fallen down?" asked Sheila,
but Dungeon Master had already turned to face Llythen.  The Elf stood
straighter, and though still slowed by weariness, he no longer favored his
wounds.  The same Elven healers that had seen to Diana had also tended him.
        "Your time has come, Prince of Sidhe Gildas," the Dungeon Master said.
Llythen only bowed.  Then the Dungeon Master turned to another Elf, a woman of
alien beauty and eyes even older than Llythen.  "Oldara," the Dungeon Master
greeted her, rising to his feet and bowing with a formal elegance.  "I am glad
that I had the chance to see you again, before it is all over."
        "Time is short, isn't it?" the Elf-maid said, more of a statement than a
question.  Sheila suddenly realized that she and Llythen must be close kin,
possibly siblings.  Their faces were of the same cast, their hair the same
midnight shade, and their eyes the same emerald-green.  "What of our brother?"
she asked, further confirming Sheila's suspicion.
        "He will come soon," the Dungeon Master assured her.  "Be well and be strong,
Little Flower."  And with that, he turned and passed behind a tree, vanishing
from sight.
        Oldara sighed what sounded like a prayer, hands clasped and eyes closed,
before looking to Llythen.  "The Dark Ones have come forth from the darkness,
and we stand besieged.  I pass lordship of the Sidhe and its people to my
brother, Llythen a'Corimera, Warder of the Royal Blood.  May you lead us well
in battle, my brother."
        Llythen nodded gravely.  "We cannot stay here.  Though we could stand against
our foes for any amount of time, Elessar calls and we must follow.  Let
everyone strap on a sword and take up a bow!  Let the horses be saddled and
the provisions gathered!  Let no one carry more than can be placed into a
small pack!  The Sidhe ride forth!"
        "Amen!" the gathered Elves, perhaps fifty of them, answered in grim unison
before running to do their tasks.
        Sheila felt Bobby tugging on her cloak.  "What are they saying?" he asked.
She suddenly realized that the Elves had been speaking in their own tongue
from the moment the Dungeon Master had left.  She quickly provided
translations for her friends.
        In short order, the Elves were prepared.  Horses, sleek and grey, were
brought to the Young Ones, who mounted with the ease of ones accustomed to the
saddle.  For Bobby, the Elves brought a young mare whose size was not out of
proportion with the young Barbarian's.  Despite his steed's relatively small
size, Uni sat before Bobby, encircled by the protective ring of his arms as he
gripped the reins.
        Sheila sat astride her own steed, a mare whose color was lighter than the
others, the silver of the moon.  There were saddle bags tied across her rump,
and a cursory glance showed them to be filled with food.  But there was also a
quiver of arrows just behind Sheila's left leg, an unstrung bow beneath her
right, and a slender longsword that hung just in front of her left knee.
        Each of her friends and all of the Elves were equipped similarly, even the
women and the children.  Those same women had cast aside their fine gowns and
put on finely woven mail, the same as the men.
        Llythen walked his horse up to Sheila, a bundle in his hands.  "Here, put
this on over your tunic," he said, handing it to her.
        Unwrapping it, Sheila saw a shirt of the same fine mail that the Elves wore.
"Oh, I couldn't . . ." she started.
        "Please," he said, looking into her eyes in a way that made her ears heat for
some reason.  "We must ride through a hedge of steel before we can escape our
foes.  I would not see you or your friends slain by some chance arrow.  It is
not heavy and reflects little light."
        She gave in.  She took off her cloak and slid into the shirt.  It fell almost
to her knees, but true to his word, it felt little heavier than her heaviest
winter coat back home.  She repinned her cloak about her shoulders and looked
at her friends.  Each of them, even Presto, wore a similar coat of mail.
        "Won't this give me trouble with my magic?" the young magician asked.
        "It may," an Elf-maid told him.  "But you will find little chance to work any
spells until we are clear of the Drow, and you can always take it off after we
weather that storm."
        "Okay," he said, sounding dubious.
        "Is everyone ready?" asked Llythen in Elven.  Though less than half an hour
had passed since the Dungeon Master had left, everyone was.  Sheila shook her
head, amazed at their speed.  "Then let's ride!" he called, drawing and
lifting his blade.  Fifty blades were lifted alongside his, and for the first
time in a hundred and fifty years, the Elves rode off to war.

To be continued . .