The man with the purple eyes picked up the sword, grinned widely, and walked towards me. I was a little confused, of course, being the only normal one there, but I nevertheless laughed happily and drew my poorika, my seven sided blade, as I laughed at the mountain and I laughed at the man with the purple eyes and I laughed at the orange dog that was limping. The orange dog seemed to have a thorn stuck in its right fore-paw, and I thought that if I could just reach it I might help...but the man with the purple eyes had the sword, the Ash sword, the sword of dreams that so many had fought for so many times, and I had to stop him first.

My poorika gleamed in the light of the first fire and my laughter died out as the first blows were exchanged. The Ash sword was powerful, even in the hands of a novice; the man with the purple eyes was no novice, so in his hands it was deadly. My poorika danced about, stopping every attack, but I soon found myself weakening, whereas the man with the purple eyes merely grew stronger as we approached the second fire. I was being pushed backwards, my tail was being brought up against the third fire, and my sword arm was drooping, when suddenly the man with the purple eyes became too bold, too daring, using an overhand stroke that, while cutting deep into my side, left his chest totally unguarded...obviously I took the chance to strike back and my poorika leaves no prisoners...the man with the purple eyes lay dead before me and the third fire, and the Ash sword lay bloody with him.

I, Fors NaBam, parisian normal, was the winner in the Fire Place, the safehouse of the Ash sword, and of course I could not keep my prize. Carefully I took the blade and replaced it upon its seal, carefully closing the boxes and the magical talismans that the man with the purple eyes had diligently fought through. I doused the Three Flames of Ever then, checked to see that the wound in my side had healed well, and went to check on the orange dog, hoping with all my heart that it had not left.

I was in luck. The little thing was still where I had left it, and it was no worse than ever. Carefully I stooped to remove the thorn, and it was then when I noticed what the thorn was. It was a piece of the Final Talisman, the only one that really mattered, and with it broken, there was no more hope for the Fire Place... Knowing that the Ash Gods would soon recognize this fact, I sheathed my poorika, gathered the orange dog into my arms, and bowed deep to my fallen foes: the man with the purple eyes, the scarred parisian, and the dagger carrying alien. I ran, then, to the exit place and my steed, for the Fire Place would soon be naught but a memory.

It was then I first thought to get the Ash sword. If all of this were for nothing, all of our lives works, then why not at least have some memory? Quickly I set the orange dog down, shooing it out of the tunnel, and ran back down the tunnel to the main room. I was short of breath as I reached the fires, but I quickly lit them with my ava (which is a mental ability all parisians have) and turned to the seals. It was no great challenge for me to remove the Ash sword, as I had just put it there, but as I picked it up from its last box, I felt the mountain beginning to shake... I began to fall; I could no longer stand... I tried to crawl for the tunnel but I did not make it more than three feet before the first rock fell from high above, striking me unconscious and sending me to a black and comfortable abyss.

I awoke to find that I was alive, under all the rocks, in the dark, with the sword. There was no reason for my being alive except perhaps for the sword itself, whose powers have been questioned for eternity. I did not exactly know how I had come to kill the man with the purple eyes, then, if the blade makes one so strong, but I did not question, I merely searched for a way out. My mind reached out to my steed, but when I had finally found her and taken control of her eyes, I saw that the pile of mountain on top of myself was really no smaller than the original mountain, and there was no way that I could escape. I felt, for the first time in my life, I believe, frustration then, and I felt tempted to drop the Ash sword then and end it. But instead I gripped it tighter and flexed my muscles, seeing if there was any give to the rocks.

There was. As I flexed and moved, the rocks around me moved too, and I soon could work my way forward, very slowly. Although it was a long time in the making, hours, perhaps a full day, I eventually made my way out of the mountain. As I lay panting upon the grass, the sword slipped my grasp, and the pain I felt was excruciating... I almost passed out, and it's a good thing I didn't for I surely would have perished. I grabbed for the sword once more and felt it all slip away. Carefully I tied this beautiful blade to my form and fell into a deep and wonderful sleep of forgetfulness.

Waking from this sleep was like waking from the last one: to a world of darkness, and I felt such fear that I nearly cried aloud, but upon discovery of the fact that I could, in fact, stand up and see by the very distant moon, I calmed down greatly. My steed had wandered off, but I touched it and brought it to me, though I could not see it anywhere near. I waited quietly for something, though I did not know what... Suddenly from the woods nearby there came a wicked beast, snarling and growling, jumping to my chest... It was just the orange dog, and seeing it pleased me greatly. I tried to touch its mind, but it was unreceptive, and this caused me to wonder if it perhaps wasn't much smarter than I had, at first, surmised. Though the parisian kind in general is not given to naming animals, a particular name seemed to fit this beast, and though I did not name it until much later, I will give it now: Sim. This word in my native tongue means love for a recipient of lesser value than the giver. The dog was the object of my affection from the moment it came running from the woods at me, and I had been the object of its since it had first laid eyes on me. Sim was a good dog, though it was merely mammal. As I waited for my steed, I preened the dog and loved it, and we grew ever closer. I found that it had a fine set of teeth and claws and a ready musculature, and I wondered if it had been a hunting beast at one time. I had little more time for speculation, however, for my steed had arrived.

Letting go the dog, I leapt to the steed without a second thought. The dog hobbled along beside me at a good pace, and I knew that in him I had chosen well for even wounded he was outdoing my steed. I decided to pick up the pace, to see what Sim could do, but I found that the dog could always go just a little faster than my steed...it was a miracle. Sooner than I had thought possible we reached the village Ah-Meht (dwelling of Meht in parisian), and with it my love, Reth (which, incidentally, is a word that means fool's error; looking back I see some significance in this). Within moments of reaching Ah-Meht I was in her living quarters, wishing that there was some way I could make her understand what I had seen, the terrible voyage, following the wicked men, killing them, and receiving the sword and the dog...but there was nothing. Instead I merely held her in my arms, and it was enough. The night passed swiftly enough, and with the rise of the suns I knew it was time to see Darian Meht, master of Ah-Meht. He was a frightening figure, but the warmth of the Ash blade in its newly acquired sheath was enough to keep me calm. As to Darian Meht, he was a parisian normal like myself, though he was a paler shade of orange than myself. He stood at a full six and a half feet tall, and his tail ended in a slight tuft of hair, placing him from the northern region of the Aht mountains. He looked at the handle of the new sword at my belt and instantly knew it for the Ash sword. His face contorted into a grimace of disgust and he drew his own sword against me before crying out "Explain yourself, Fors!" Quickly I related the tale, and though he was obviously not happy, he replaced his sword. He calmed down and sat in a chair.

"You understand," he said, "that I cannot allow you to stay here in Ah-Meht. This is too much against parisian culture. You will have to leave. Go...somewhere; I don't care where. Just leave soon. And for god's sake take a bath." That was all. I was stunned. I walked back to Reth in tears, forced out of the only village I had ever really known. Of course I asked Reth to come with me to live in the woods at least until I could find a better place, and of course she said yes. Soon we were gone from Ah-Meht, and to the day I have not returned.

In the woods I built a wonderful cabin, and I think that probably I could have stayed there forever with Reth, my steed, and the orange dog which I had yet to name. It consisted of five main rooms, so complicated was my building, and we were quite satisfied with it all year round. I myself stayed in this cabin for perhaps five years, though I will relate only the first two.

During the first year of our stay in this cabin, Reth seemed to be somewhere else. At times she would totally disappear from the cabin and not show up for days, but as I did not own her, there was little I could do. Though I did not tell her, at times I would remove the Ash sword from my presence and immediately feel the pain of the mountain once more, and so it stayed with me at all times. Though this proved to be tedious at times, it was a necessity that I handled well. There were times during that year that were wonderful: Standing on the roof of the cabin, Reth's hand in mine, staring at the twin sunrise; walking to the waterfall and watching Sim, whom I had by then named, frolic in the water; inventing songs by the fire; telling the tales that we both knew a thousand times over; loving each other all around, the four of us perfectly content with each other. Unfortunately there were also bad times, such as Reth's leavings, Sim's dreadful illness that almost took his life, and my steed's breaking his leg. In Ah-Meht, had my steed broken his leg I would have been forced to kill him; in the woods I was able to allow him to heal. The first year passed by quickly, and all was happiness.

During the second year, Reth's absences became longer and longer. Whereas before I had taken for granted our time together and any time apart was pure hell, now the time we had together was the rarity and the time we had apart, though truly crushing and the most alone I'd ever felt, was the greatest. Reth left nearly every day, and she often took my steed with her. Left alone with Sim for sometimes a month or longer, I soon grew even closer to him. His name no longer applied; I saw him as an equal, not some lesser being. Nevertheless, the name stayed, and the time passed. Near the end of the second year, after a nearly two month leave, I finally gave up on Reth. When next she came back I asked of her why she was leaving so often. Her answer was quick and simple, but it hurt. "To see my love," she said, and the most hurtful thing was that it was true. She tried to explain that it had started so simply, just a friend, just someone to talk to, a reason to leave the cabin, but I didn't listen. I left the cabin with Sim and when I came back over three years later, Reth was a truly different person.

Traveling with Sim was a good experience for me. I soon found work in a mercenary corps, where the Ash sword proved a valuable asset. Though I do not like to flout my abilities, I am a wonderful swordsman, and the Ash sword made me nearly invincible. Sim proved a valuable aid too, hunting out the enemies that evaded my direct attention. I made a wonderful sum of money in the year I traveled with the corps, but I grew weary of working and wanted instead something else. I decided that perhaps I should settle down for a while in Das Mana, a fairly large city in the southern Burlock mountains. It was there that I got my first lessons in the gentle art of skullduggery.

It seems that in my travels as a mercenary the fact of my owning the Ash sword had become quite common-place, and every thief and assassin within a hundred kliks had decided to come after it. The first night of my stay in Das Mana, the Ash sword was taken from me while I slept, and thanks to the instant pain I felt I was able to leap up and take it back immediately. If not for this warning I would have lost my weapon then and there, for Sim had not even risen. The thief that had tried to steal the Ash sword that night died very quickly under the blade of his attention, but after slaying him I began to wonder how many others of his type there might be... I decided perhaps I should search for some help. In a city such as Das Mana, help is always available, for the right price... I first searched the pubs and the inns.

At the Gilded Poorika, a human named William Kiss attempted to steal my purse, and I surely wouldn't have noticed except that Sim growled loudly at the man until I paid him attention. At the tip of my sword he was quick to return my purse, and after a little gentle prodding I was able to get much information about the prices set out on my sword. It seemed there was someone in the Castle K'th that was offering seventy two thousand ameril for my sword, with an extra three thousand for my head. I was outraged, not so much at the fact there was a price on my head, but that it was so much lower than the sword. However, as he went on to describe, there was a human named Baron West that was offering twenty thousand ameril for the sword and fifty three thousand for my head. It seemed rather unusual that he should want me dead so badly, but I recalled suddenly a certain Baron West from my first border skirmish in my mercenary days, whom I had angered badly. As I am in a storytelling mood, I shall tell the tale now.

In the first week of my employment as a mercenary, we traveled to protect the borders between the Great Sul Empire and the Harsh Lands, where only aliens roamed. Baron West was paying us a great deal of money to force the aliens back just a hair, perhaps half a klik and no more. Since it was my first real job, though, I perhaps asked a few too many questions and was already on the Baron's bad side before the fighting began. Then it happened.

I stood alone with the Ash sword drawn, Sim far behind me at the camp. Seventeen of the simian aliens attacked me simultaneously, and I found myself fighting frantically. Though I was always sure of my ability to come out on top, I soon grew weary, and by the time I had finished the seventeen off I was dead tired. That was when the cries of Baron West came from over a hill. Though my breath became extremely labored, I nevertheless ran the distance to the Baron's side, and I saw him in a similar predicament to my own, with his own sword drawn against four of the smaller aliens. However, he was not as skilled as I, nor did he have as good a weapon, so I rushed to his aid. By this time I was terribly tired, and my sword did not want to lift. I dispatched a single alien hurriedly, and nearly collapsed, but I did my best to take a second one out before I actually did. Leaving the Baron but two of the aliens, I thought him surely safe, but no sooner was I beginning to feel my fatigue leaving my body than did I hear the cries of the Baron once more. Standing before him was one last alien, screeching triumphantly, as the Baron held before himself a bleeding stump of what had once been his right arm. My heart sank to the pits of my stomach and I stood to finish the last beast off before raising my face to the Baron West.

His eyes were filled with tears of rage, and he spit with frustration. He vowed that day that he would kill me, so I guess it was a little strange that I had never even thought of the event until William Kiss had reminded me of the man. But such things had become commonplace in the mercenary corps. Thinking back on it made me wonder how many enemies I had made... I thanked William and turned to leave.

"Oh," he said, "there is one more thing. A parisian by the name of Darian Meht. He offers an entire town, Ah-Meht, for the return of the sword. And his wife Reth Meht offers seventy thousand ameril for your head, preferably unattached to your body. These four people are your only enemies, so far as I know."

"William," I said, "you have been of great help, and though I should kill you for nearly stealing my purse, I feel the need to keep you around. Your trade, thievery, is a trade that I would learn, if you would teach it."

"Gladly, Sir Fors, but first you should get the terminology correct. We prefer the word skullduggery to thievery, as it is more broad, and you should never call it a trade, for it is a way of life. And know that to learn it is to never sleep a full night, for you will know just how easy it would be for you never to rise again."

"Okay then."

The lessons started that very day there in Das Mana, and it seems that I had picked quite the teacher, for I learned very quickly. It was, however, another year before he felt confident enough in my skills to let me go. I was quite pleased, and only slightly frustrated that the attempts on my life had not died down whatsoever in the year since I had reached the city. My time with William had taught me to be prepared, however, and I was quite sure that no assassins would be stopping me. I paid William most royally and set off for the only place I truly felt ready to see, the Castle K'th, and with it the unnamed someone, whether it be he, she, human, alien, parisian... or other.