Characters

Big John Drott - a male human

You were born Jön, prince of the blood, oldest of the two sons of Krang, High King of the Jelandír tribe of the nomadic peoples of the Eastern Reaches. Your tribe was perhaps the largest in all of the borderlands, and your father was their leader.

Growing up a Jelandír prince meant many things. It meant the best weapons training, a proper education (as proper as one could get from Berridak the Shaman) and the best food at meal times. It also meant a great responsibility. If you were to be High King someday, you needed to be responsible not just for your own actions, but for those of the entire tribe. As a young boy, however, your attentions were more focused on combat strategies, which you figured were most important for a High King, and looking forward to having a King's harem of your own, just like your father.

The trouble began when your father sent a warrior by the name of Xanex on a special reconnaissance patrol that kept him away for three months. Now it was not uncommon for warriors to be sent on patrols of this length, but it was uncommon when the warrior had already taken a wife. Usually the married tribesmen received the shorter assignments, as to not keep them away from their families for very long.

During those three months rumors began to stir about Xanex's wife, Lacilla. Many speculated that she was having an affair with one of the tribal leaders. You overheard some whispers that suspected your father, but you knew that it wasn't him. You saw him every night, just before you slept, and besides, he had his harem. The topic didn't interest you much at the time, anyway.

Shortly after Xanex returned from his long assignment, he was soon sent out again, on a shorter patrol, but this time, he did not return. A tribal war general, Zelemick, was the only one to return from that small patrol. He claimed that ogres from the southern hills had attacked the patrol, and that he barely escaped with his life. As was the custom, Lacilla became part of the harem, as all tribal widows did, to be cared for by the High King himself. Soon after, the tragedy occurred.

You weren't there, but evidently Zelemick and several Jelandír elders were seeking out your father and had entered his tent. There they found your father, kneeling over the bloody body of Lacilla, with a knife in his hand. The evidence was clear, but you just didn't believe it. Your father could not murder a helpless woman.

A tribal council was called and the evidence was presented. The accuser (the tribal elder presenting the prosecution's case) had several women in the harem speak. They told that, before her death, Lacilla had confessed to them that she was pregnant, and it was clear to them that the child had been conceived during the three month's while Xanex was away. You noticed a funny smirk on Zelemick's face.

Then the accuser started talking about you. You had no idea why, how could you hurt your father's case? Then he mentioned your mother, Laramina. You had no memory of her. Your father had told you that she was in his harem and had died when you were only a year old. The accuser talked about the time of your birth and about how there was some controversy about whose son you were, your father Krang's or some man named Porath's, although the accuser agreed that you were indeed Krang's son. You had never heard of any controversy. The accuser then talked about how your mother had been married to this Porath, and how he had been killed in a similar manner to Xanex. He also said that the men of the tribe 'never trusted' your father around their women. The accuser then concluded by asserting that your father just did what he had done years before. He had seduced another man's wife while sending the warrior on some long assignment, he had gotten her pregnant, and then he had the poor husband killed so the woman would be in the harem and the birth would be legitimate. This time, Lacilla must have tired him, or perhaps she discovered that he had murdered her husband, so he killed her.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was your father really some murdering flirt? There had to be another explanation.

The denier (the tribal elder presenting your father's case) did not say very much. He pointed out that no one had heard any screams and that the knife was not your father's, but that was about it. You were sent to the holding tent to await your fate. You father looked horrible. But you had to ask him.

"Father, why are they saying these things? How come you don't tell them the truth?" you asked.

"Son, it won't matter", he told you. "You see, part of what the accuser said was true. Shortly before you were born, your mother and I fell in love, while she was married to Porath. We never did anything about it, but people knew. There was a lot of gossip going on about us. When Porath was killed, many thought I was to blame. But it was not my doing. When you were born, some thought you had been conceived on the night before Porath left on that fateful journey. But really you were conceived the first night your mother and I spent together, shortly after we learned that Porath was dead. It was wrong of us to dishonor his memory as we did, but we were young and blindly in love. The whole incident was a black mark on my reputation, and rightfully so. I believe that Zelemick killed Lacilla and had me framed. But I can't do anything about that."

"But", you protested, "if you didn't kill Lacilla, what does it matter what happened in the past? Can't you just tell them that you think Zelemick did it?"

"The past defines you son, and you cannot escape it. No one will believe my story now. Not after what happened when you were born. Your reputation is everything, Jön. When you lose that, you lose your honor."

You felt sorry for your father. He was not a bad man. He just made a mistake. Three guards came in and escorted you back out to the field of judgement. The decision of your fates was to be read.

Elder Hamakan read the decree. "High King Krang, by order of this council, in retribution for the crime of murder against one's own people you are sentenced to the eternal wasting death, Gulag. So that the sin, which runs in your blood, shall be cleansed, all of your sons, except the youngest, shall suffer the same fate. Tribal war General Zelemick and his family will succeed you as High Royalty of the Jelandír. So let it be written, so let it be done."

The decision of the Order of the Elders was final. You and your father were to be bound at the hands and feet, blindfolded, and each placed upon a horse that carried only one drogma of water, always in front of its face, such that the horse would run itself to death trying to catch it. Each horse was then startled and would gallop off into the wasteland, in different directions. You would probably never see your father again, and that was if you survived. Your younger brother, by virtue of his age, was deemed to be too young to have been at fault. Elder Hamakan said, "The family name which has been soiled can yet be cleansed from his soul. Thus is the fate of innocence."

This was the worst moment of your life. Exiled from your life. Sent most likely to die. You had never felt fear like this and all from one mistake that your father had made years ago. Ironically, that mistake, which gave you your life, might now take it away.

You don't remember much about your journey except heat and thirst. When your horse collapsed from dehydration, you managed to untie yourself, and remove your blindfold. The sun was brutal. You sipped your water though you wanted to drink it all down. You had to conserve. You headed towards the hills in the distance. That's what your father would do.

It was only a few days later when you were caught. You had fallen asleep in a small cave and were startled awake in the night by a strong grip on your shoulder. You immediately tensed thinking that Zelemick had found you. It wasn't him, but it was perhaps worse. You stared up at a horrible monstrous face, breathing a foul rotten smell back at you. You couldn't make out exactly what it was in the dark, but you could tell that it was big. The thing laughed and said "Gralick!" and motioned for you to get up. You stood and barely came up to the thing's knee. It grabbed you by the scruff of the shirt and dragged you outside. Here in the light, you could tell what they were. Mountain Giants. Your tribe had fought off a few of these things in the past, but now there were dozens of these things. The giants tied your feet together. You were clearly no threat (how could you hurt twenty giants?), but perhaps they figured you'd run, and they wanted you, for something.

The giants took you to a range of rocky hills to the west. You were out of the borderlands and in unfamiliar territory. They brought you into their camp and set you to work as a slave. You remained here for quite some time. You would fetch water, clean out dung holes, and scrape the remains of people that they would burn up, off of the 'stone' to prepare for the next victim. You didn't know exactly how they chose what people they would burn, and who they would enslave, but you noticed that they took a certain pleasure in the burning of wizards. They sent out hunting parties, for food and sport. Sometimes they would return with several large animals, sometimes with loot and slaves from a small town or caravan they had sacked.

One time they came back with a long green lizard with wings, about 20 feet long, with a 20-foot long tail. They slow-roasted and ate this thing at some kind of ceremonial banquet. You noticed that some of the warriors were particularly beat up when they returned from capturing this beast. You soon found out why. This large lizard's mother came looking for it. It was a brutal fight. Your captors lobbed great rocks at the thing, but even when they hit it, the rocks seemed to bounce harmlessly off the flying thing's scaly hide. Then, the horror of this flying lizard became clear. It swooped in low and a great green cloud of gas billowed from its gaping maw, engulfing several giants. You could barely see into the mist, but what you did see was a terrible fate, even for your hated masters. Their skin seemed to sizzle and burn from their faces. You saw them trying to breathe, and could sense from their reaction that what was happening to their skin was probably happening to their innards as well. Soon the great green thing left, having evened-up the score, or so you guessed. Over half of the giant clan was dead. All that remained of them were white bones and an awful smell. You were so hypnotized by the creature that you hadn't even thought to use the 'distraction' to try and escape.

However, it was only about two weeks later, when the giants were attacked by a nomadic band of humans, of a clan you didn't recognize. In their weakened state, the giants were driven off and you were rescued.

The humans who found you were of the Pensaarí tribe. You had never seen them before, so when they asked you what tribe you belonged to you said the Jelandír figuring that none of them would know that you had been expelled. Well, it turned out that the Pensaarí had just held trade negotiations with the Jelandír and were on good terms with them. And they didn't know who you were. They allowed you to leave and you headed for the more civilized areas of the continent. You certainly didn't want to run into Zelemick again.

You arrived in the city of Kriton East, the last city before the borderlands heading east, the first city for you, heading west. It was perhaps as uncivilized as a city can get. There were no real stores, temples, taverns or inns. There was sort of a town square, with several vendors hawking their wares, but there were hawkers everywhere. The dominating feature of the town, however, was the coliseum.

A huge round structure, three stories tall, an amphitheater surrounding a great arena. You climbed up and sat down on a stone step. There was some kind of fight going on below you. There was a man, wielding a great many-bladed weapon, the likes of which you had never seen. He was fighting off three rather large lions. It was exciting. The crowd, however, was not so enthusiastic. You got the feeling that they had seen this before. Then you saw someone point back towards the arena and say; "there he goes". You looked back and saw two lions ripping apart the top half of what was the man. The lions exited through a doorway and a few smaller men in ragged clothes came out to pick up what was left.

Then you heard a loud voice, "and now... the main event... Gargantuan Gort versus The Crusher!" The crowd burst out in enthusiastic applause. 'This must be the good part', you thought. Two men came out into the ring. One was wielding a blade much like the man who had just been torn apart. The other had some kind of stick with two long chains ending in two spiky metal balls. The fight was rather good. The man with the stick, who you guessed was The Crusher, eventually won when he crushed one of Gort's arms with a spiky ball. Gort's weapon could not be effectively used with only one arm and he quickly conceded. 'Hey, at least no one was eaten', you thought.

After the match you went down to get a look at this Crusher person. As he left the arena, you noticed that he wasn't nearly as big as he looked from up in the seats.

A man standing next to you, a half-elf, commented, "Pretty tough, huh?"

"Ah... he doesn't look so bad", you said.

"Oh yea? You think you can do better?" the man dared.

"Well, I think I'd give him a good fight", you said trying not to be overly arrogant.

"Well then son", the half-elf extended his hand, "the name's Polk, Finneas Polk, gladiator promoter and entertainment salesman. Here's my card."

He handed you a small piece of paper with some symbol on it. It looked like a letter 'S' with two vertical lines through it. You wondered what that meant.

"Now here's the deal son", the man said. "I can assure you no less than three fights a week, AND a weekend matinee and all I ask is 35% of your take, win or lose. It's that simple. What's your name, son?"

"Jön, you replied."

"Hmm..." the man thought a moment. "Well, that'll have to change. How about Big John? No... it needs something... Bot, Jot, Pot. How about Drott?"

"Huh?" you said, completely lost.

"Big John Drott! I like it. I'll have posters up by noon. Don't worry kid, stick with me and you'll be somebody!" The man dashed away.

You asked around town about your father, but no one had seen him. You hoped he had made it.

By that evening there were posters all up around the town that read "Come see the Borderland Barbarian, Big John Drott in his debut fight! Tomorrow afternoon after midday gong. BJD versus The Crusher!"

Now, you really didn't know what you had gotten yourself into. What did you have to do? Would you eventually have to fight lions? You found this Polk character in a tavern trying to get the tavern keeper to put up one of your posters. He noticed you enter.

"Ah, and here he is ladies and gentlemen!" the man announced. "All the way from the Eastern Reaches, it's Big John Drott the Borderland Barbarian. You can just call him BJD!"

You had to have a talk with this guy. The name Big John was ok; even Big John Drott was tolerable. But this BJD stuff just had to go.

You sat down with Finneas Polk and discussed the details. You would fight only humans, elves or half-elves. He asked you how you would feel about fighting a margoyle. You didn't know what a margoyle was, but you didn't want to seem naïve, so you told him you'd have to think about it. The pay was excellent. 12 silver per fight if you won the fight, 3 if you lost. And that was after Finneas took his share. Finneas also agreed to remove the BJD from your 'stage' name as he called it.

And so your career as an arena gladiator began. It was a good time for you. The combats were fierce, but you managed to perform pretty well. What you really enjoyed about these combats was that they were serious challenges in a serious forum. Frivolity was strictly regulated, and that was something you liked. After losing to The Crusher, and then losing a few more battles, but sustaining no serious injuries, you started to win, and more importantly, you started to win over the crowd. Pretty soon, the betting on you was very heavy. You were the crowd favorite, and soon you got your rematch with The Crusher, who was a perennial crowd villain. And he never lost.

The fight was intense, but The Crusher just didn't have it that day. Just when you felt yourself tiring, The Crusher fell for a trick you had used several times in some of your earlier fights. You had him pinned before he knew it. The crowd roared.

After collecting your winnings, you decided to go see Finneas in his office. You wanted to thank him for all that he had done for you. You really had respect now. And you really felt good about yourself.

The door to Finneas' office was slightly open and you overheard a conversation going on. You figured you'd wait for Finneas to finish up with whomever he was with and then you'd thank him. But then you heard Finneas' voice.

"Yeah, your right Crusher, it did look a little phony. But that's ok. Those saps will never know. They're so hyped on BJD now, they can't tell when you take a dive. The last three dives against BJD were really lame. In fact, I'm surprised that the Big Jerky Dope didn't pick up on it himself. But he's a hero to these saps. And I'll keep packing 'em in".

You couldn't believe it. Fixed! Your fights were fixed! Your eyebrows started to twitch. Big Jerky Dope! Your fists began clenching and unclenching around your trident. Then you heard The Crusher and Finneas laughing. You lost it.

You kicked the door in and let out a heavy roar. The Crusher stepped towards you and your right hand came up and nailed his jaw. His head spun around and something cracked. He fell to the ground a limp rag. Finneas stood up and backed away, "Now... w... wait a minute, BJ... uh... Big John." You brought your trident up and caught his right arm between two of the tines. You twisted it hard and heard a loud, snap, and then a scream. Finneas fell to the floor. You swiveled the fork around and scooped up his other arm and twisted. Snap again, then another yelp, not quite as loud this time. You pointed the middle tine at the spot between Finneas' eyes and stared bullets at him. The bastard fainted. You trashed his office and left Kriton East and didn't look back.

You hit the open road. Pissed as all hell. You thought you had respect. You thought you had a reputation. But it was all a fraud. Big John Drott, the gladiator who had his fights handed to him on a silver platter. You walked for days.

You arrived at a small town named Upper Lather. You sat down in a tavern to have a beer. It was a nice place you thought, looking around. You wondered how much it cost to own a place like this. Just then, a small, non-descript man entered the bar. He approached the bartender and said, in a weasely voice, "Hello good sir. Pray tell, am I headed in the right direction for Kriton East?"

"Yea", muttered the barkeep, a dwarf. "Don't knows why you'd wanna go there though. Nothing but a dump if'n ya ask me."

"Well", started the small man, "sometimes even in a dump one can find a shining gem. I've heard that there's a gladiator of note who's made himself a name in the coliseum there, a proven warrior. Perhaps you've heard the same?"

You smiled a small ironic smile to yourself but said nothing.

"Well, I guess'n so", said the dwarf. "But theys change'n all the time. Let's see, there's dat Crusher guy, uh... that Gar the uh... Mangled, no, Mangler, yea. Uh... some guy with initials uh, B.C.J. or sometin'."

"B.J.D.", you said derisively.

The small man turned to you. "Ah... a fellow from the city perhaps? Maybe you can help me find this B.J.D. I can pay you for your services."

"That won't be necessary, friend", you began. "That's not the guy you want anyway."

"And how can you be so sure?" said the weasely voice.

"Because it's me", you said. "I'm BJ...Big John Drott. The Borderland Barbarian", you said sarcastically.

"And why exactly is it that you are not the guy I want?" inquired the non-descript man.

"Because I'm a fraud", you began. "A puppet gladiator whose strings were pulled by a cheap con-artist. I'm afraid the stories you've heard about me are just not true. All of my fights were fixed. I am not the proven warrior that you seek."

The small man thought a moment.

"Well then, Mr. Drott, perhaps I can offer you a chance to prove yourself, in a test that cannot be fixed. A trial so fair that even the judges are selected under the strictest of rules. A quest so grand, that those who succeed will never have a need to prove their worth again. Let me introduce myself", said the man. "My name is Silas Wishbone, and I represent Pharondondalae...

And so the opportunity of a lifetime was offered. You thought about it. Here it was. A chance to prove yourself in the greatest arena, where your reputation was untarnished. A fresh start. And so the opportunity of a lifetime was accepted.

When the Great Hunt was over, you needed a good investment for your money. You sort of liked the big city of East Lansing and were interested in maybe buying a store or something. Maybe even a weapons shop. Then you were approached by Khelven Stihl-Tewth, the gnome from your Champion Hunt team. He was in the same boat as you and had found an opportunity, but didn't want to go it alone. It was Isaac's Bar, the tavern.

Now, you had retrieved Isaac's Bar (the chunk of metal) during the Hunt and had to actually purchase it from the owner who had built a tavern around it in Whippany called, of course, Isaac's Bar. The actual bar was placed in the Great Vault, where all Hunted Items (except some intelligent, alive items) are placed, but Khelven Stihl-Tewth had the idea to re-open the tavern under the name Isaac's Bar in East Lansing, even though it was missing the famous bar of metal. With your Hunt success as a selling point tie-in, it seemed like a good idea. You decided to go for it.

Buying the bar was easy. Getting it the proper licenses, zoning permits, insurance, supplies and furniture was a nightmare. You finally got through all the red tape after about nine months, but soon realized that neither you nor Khelven had any business sense. You had to hire someone to help you.

About a year after you and Khelven bought the bar, you decided to hire a manager with some business sense, and about a year after that, Khelven married the young dwarven woman. Her name was Jari. Jari was very thorough with the books, and she ran a tight ship. You liked her a lot.

It was shortly thereafter that you were asked to appear at the Palace to see the Pooh-bah. You were somewhat surprised. What would the Pooh-bah want with you? But pretty soon you were offered a job as Junior Security Officer to the Grand High Pooh-bah. This was no small job. It required being at the Palace forty hours a week, fifteen of them at the Pooh-bah's side. You accepted immediately. Between the bar and your job with Pharondondalae, your reputation was at its peak. All peaks have a downside. Yours was named Crutches.

You had spoken with Khelven shortly after you had begun your job with Pharondondalae. You both agreed that perhaps you would seek another partner in the bar. With you away so much, Khelven and Jari could sure use the help. It was soon after that Khelven approached you with a potential buyer. It was Crutches the Thief; another Great Hunt 97 companion of yours. Now, Crutches had performed adequately during the Hunt, but he was a thief and you knew what that usually meant - lazy, untrustworthy and unreliable. Khelven, however, somehow managed to sweet talk you into taking him in.

After a few months with Crutches hanging around, things had become much worse that you had ever thought they could be. You really weren't around all that much to see how quickly his influence corrupted what was once a great establishment, but it had been corrupted. Crutches would come in with a bunch of his hooligan friends and take up a bunch of your back rooms. These seedy individuals were usually hidden away in the back, but you soon noticed that the rest of your clientele became a little less affluent and a little less wholesome. The reputation of the bar was at stake. You decided to speak with Khelven.

"Look", you started, "I know that he's a third owner and can bring anyone he wants in here, but these friends of his are just the wrong element for the bar."

"Come on, John", Khelven said. "They're not hurting anyone. And things here aren't so bad. Our average weekly profit has gone up."

"Yea, but that's 'cause of that wife of yours", you explained. "If it wasn't for her sweet-talking those dockworkers, we'd be paying almost double for our liquor. That's where the profit's coming from. Not from these... ruffians."

"Ok, ok", said Khelven. "I'll talk to Crutches. I'll see if he can tone it down a bit, all right?"

"It better be more than a bit", you said.

Just then a door opened to a back room and Crutches and several of his 'friends' appeared, rather boisterously.

"Hey, BJD!" yelled Crutches, waving in your direction. You cringed. You hated being called that. "How's it hangin'?"

You stared back at him, but he was already laughing it up with his friends as he escorted them out. At least they were gone, for today. You left the bar and went home. You decided that if Khelven's approach didn't work then you'd talk to him personally, and it wouldn't be as kind.

The next day you came into work to find out that there had been an arrest after you left last night. Of course, it was Crutches. Inspector Jakil Fedgehoffyit of the East Lansing Constables' Office had arrested him, right in the bar! Jari was at the bar at the time of his arrest, and she filled you in.

"Well", Jari started, "it had gotten pretty quiet. Most of the regulars had gone home, and Crutches and I were having a rather nice conversation. I was cleaning up and he was sipping a drink when the police came."

"At least most of the customers were gone", you said.

Khelven asked you to pull some strings with Pharondondalae but you'd have no part of that. What did you owe this guy? You weren't going to jeopardize your job for some low-life. You had just gotten promoted to Senior Security Officer. Khelven eventually went and bailed him out with some of the money from the bar. He promised that your share would be repaid in full.

You waited at the bar, hoping he would show up so you could give him a piece of your mind.

"Well, well, well..." you said as the slacker walked into the bar. "If it isn't Crutches the jailbird!"

"Hey, wait just a minute, BJD", he tried to defend himself, "I didn't do anything wrong. It was a case of mistaken identity!"

"Yea, right", you huffed. You had heard all of his crap before. "I don't care what it was, we're not bailing your good for nothing hide out of trouble again. Do you know we could have lost the bar?" You were really mad.

"Hold on now", Khelven interrupted. "Let's not say things we're going to regret."

"I know you're fond of Crutches, dear", interjected Jari, "but if he gets into trouble, it will reflect on all of us. Maybe we can work out some arrangement..."

"Arrangement!" you yelled. "Jari, just because you can smooth talk some ruffians down at the docks doesn't mean you can rehabilitate this... this... thief!"

You had enough. Jari was usually pretty wise to Crutches' antics, but now she was going to give him another chance? You got up and left. You had to cool off.

You went down to gym to get your aggressions out. Pharondondalae had set you up pretty nice with your own specially designed training facility. It was a small place, but it had all you needed. You really let your opponents have it today. You elbow-slammed a minotaur, snapping off his horn. Then, you speared a manticore right between its eyes with your trident. You then threw Crutches against a far wall. And then another Crutches. And another. Finally you heard your training illusionist say "Enough, enough! You're wearing me out!" The illusionists that Pharondondalae had working for you were pretty creative, but they had no stamina when you needed it.

Although throwing Crutches against a wall a few times helped a little (even if it was simulated), you were still pissed. This guy was going to ruin all that you and Khelven had worked for. You never should have let Khelven talk you into letting that delinquent buy into the bar in the first place. Now the city guard would probably be around all the time, trying to keep an eye on the guy, as part of his probation or something. That won't be good for business. It'll take months to clear the bar's reputation from this mess, if you can clear it. You remembered again how your father's reputation was ruined for the rest of his life because of one mistake.

The next day was your day off. You felt a little bit better, but still on edge. It was your regular workout day and around early afternoon one of the busboys from the bar showed up at the gym. He told you that Khelven was missing, and that Jari was looking for you.

When you got to the bar, there were constables questioning Jari.

"What happened?" you asked.

Inspector Fedgehoffyit answered. "It seems your friend Mr. Stihl-Tewth left early for the dockyards and hasn't been seen since. You haven't seen him, have you Mr. Drott."

"No", you replied. This was odd. Khelven was usually very reliable.

You sent for Crutches. Maybe he knew something and could be of some use for once. You talked for a while with the constables, but didn't get any more information. You went over the events of the morning with Jari, but it didn't hold any clues. You even went down and searched the dock area yourself for some time, but to no avail.

When you returned, Jari was crying. You had never seen her cry. A few of the constables had stayed with her, but now that you were back, they got up to leave.

"Thank you for your help", you said to the constables and escorted them out.

"We'll let you know the moment we find anything out, Mr. Drott", they said to you as they left.

Just then, Crutches finally arrived.

"What in Hades happened?" he asked.

"Well", you started, "it seems Khelven left early to get today's shipment at the docks. When he wasn't back at lunchtime, Jari sent one of the busboys to go look for him. The wharf manager said that he hadn't seen Khelven at all that day. Jari sent for me, thinking I might know where he was. Then we sent for you. Now we have no idea where he is, and with the rumors of gnome-nappings flying around, I'm starting to get worried."

"It's all my fault", sobbed Jari. "Khelven said that he wanted to talk to me and John about you, Crutches. I said I wasn't about to do all the work around here just to hear Khelven tell me and John to leave you alone. Khelven told me that he would go pick up the shipments. And now he's gone! If I wasn't so selfish, he'd be here!"

"Now, now", you said, putting a comforting arm around Jari. "If it's anyone's fault, it's Crutches'! I knew those 'friends' of yours would only give us trouble! I'm sorry they ever let you out of jail!"

Jari now had her face buried in her hands, weeping uncontrollably.

"But, but..." he stammered. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"That's right! You never do anything wrong", you countered. "Those girls with paternity suits, those hooligan friends of yours, and the jail time! Just get out of here before I... I..."

You could feel that you were losing control. Your eyebrows began to twitch and you were clenching and unclenching your fists. Luckily for him, Crutches got out of there fast. You were pretty close to throttling him good.

You and Jari puzzled into the night but were at a loss. All you could do was wait.

As if things couldn't be worse, that stupid Crutches went out and got himself arrested again in the middle of this whole thing. You heard something about him trying to steal silverware from Hammerhan. 'What a dope', you thought. He'd probably be hung for it, deservedly so. At a time when a friend of his, who had always stuck up for him, was missing, he's off looting a Council member's home. That's a thief for you.

A few weeks have passed and still no sign of Khelven. Jari has been strong, but it's been so difficult for her, you don't know how much longer she can hold out hope. At least you hadn't seen Crutches around since his arrest. He was probably rotting away somewhere. You had asked Pooh-bah Pharondondalae what was being done to curtail the rumors of gnome-nappings and told him about Khelven. He seemed genuinely concerned, but said that all of the leads so far had turned up dead-ends. He promised to increase his efforts.

During one afternoon at work, the Pooh-bah asked to see you.

"John", Pharondondalae began, "you've done a superb job for me and I thank you for it. Now, I have another opportunity for you, and I'll like you to consider it carefully. I'd like you to be on my Hunt team again this year."

"Well, I don't think..." you began.

"Before you answer", said the Pooh-bah, "let me tell you that this time around is a lean one for quality Hunters. There are no paladins available, the problems with the Vault have scared off a few candidates, and nobody wants to go up against that damn margoyle on Namor's team. I have managed to convince Jenkins to help me out, but he's the only one with Hunt experience, which I sorely need. I'll also tell you this. Hammerhan is poised to win it again this year. If that happens not only is it bad for East Lansing, but it may be bad for your friend Khelven, should he still be alive somewhere, and his kin. Hammerhan is no gnome-lover that's for sure. I promise you that I will continue to try and solve this gnomish problem, but I need two things to do that. I need at least a seat on the Council, and I need for Hammerhan not to be Pooh-bah. What do you say?"

You thought about it. This wasn't about reputation anymore. This was about your friend. You had a feeling that he was out there somewhere; you still had hope. You thought about Jenkins. You had become good friends with the man since the last Hunt, working with him for Pharondondalae. He had admitted to you that he didn't like using the threat of that spell that would 'get you' as incentive in Hunt 97. He also confided that he wouldn't have used it anyway had you lost. Jenkins was an arch-mage no more due to an accident in the Great Vault, and he believed that Hammerhan was behind the explosion that crippled him. If that was true, it was just another reason to keep that jerk out of office. You also felt like you owed Pharondondalae. He gave you the chance to get your reputation back and you did it. He came through on his promises last time, and probably would again.

"I'm in", you said, "but only if there's no one on our team who has the title of 'the Thief' in their name."

"Fair enough", said the Grand High one.

Two weeks before the Hunt is to begin, the team is finalized. Along with Jenkins and yourself, there will be a newspaper reporter by the name of Sourdough. He actually saved Jenkins from the accident in the Vault. Also, some wizard Jenkins knows, by the name of Stelmach the Mage will be there. To round out the team, and since it was so successful last time, Pharondondalae has imported three heroes from the other continent. These include some halfling called Mikey Two-Eyes, a dwarven fighter named Olten Narlagh, the brother of Hjorvard Narlagh, of last Hunt's winning team and a gnomish cleric named Bones Granitt-Bröugh. Pharondondalae assures you that this Two-Eyes character was named because he is such a good scout and nothing more. You don't know much about these three, but will meet them on the night of the pre-hunt party.