0: A Dungeons & Dragons Ride

Presto smells the smoke before he sees it. A dozen flashbacks to the adventures with his old friends roll into his mind, and none of those particular moments were pleasant. He breaks into a jog, and when he sees the smoke, a run. From what he can tell, whatever events threatened his friends, the Vistani, have already occurred.

Presto looks frantically around for any survivors, or more accurately, someone that could survive if he was able to render aid. He approaches a familiar face, Malchor, and nearly shakes the man down for answers before he notices the subtle echo of a voice reading a spell. Best to wait, I know how easy it can be to fizzle a spell and do more harm than good. And I know how much Malchor hates being interrupted.

On completion of reading, the scroll disintegrated into green mist which enveloped the wounded woman and healed most of her burns. Malchor left her in the care of a young man, possibly her son, and went to Presto.

"No one's dead but I've been too busy saving lives to put out the fires. Let's talk as we work."

A cone of pure cold erupted from Malchor's fingertips to extinguish a flaming caravan.

"I wouldn't even be here if I hadn't felt the gate open and decided to scry. Warduke and Kelek the Sorcerer. Old acquaintances of yours, right?"

Another blast of frigid air, another frozen wreck. The bodies of several orcs and bullywugs were strewn among the carnage. Many Vistani tend their own wounded while others make sure their enemies on the ground are truly dead.

"I'd say it's a miracle none of the Vistani died but I'm not surprised. Luck is often on their side. Madame Fortuna and her people fought well but they were outclassed by that damned sorcerer. She said Kelek wanted two of your friends to go with him or he'd kill everyone... so they went with him and Warduke back through the gate. Lorne and Varla, I believe."

Presto pulls his hat off his head and pulls on the opening.

"Those two? Can’t say I’ve given them much thought in the last…I don’t know how long. Decades, at least. I can’t imagine what brought them out here."

A watery blob lazily pulls free of the hat and floats between the caravan wagons, dousing them and causing the water inside the sphere to sizzle momentarily.

A sudden thought widens Presto’s eyes. "Merlin’s underpants, they were here for me! All these Vistani were attacked because they happened to be at the tower! All these orcs and bullywugs, they brought an army and meant business!"

His concentration falters for a moment and the sphere douses a nearby Vistani man. Presto winces and pulls the sphere off him, quickly noticing the man’s skin has turned a lovely shade of cobalt. Presto yelps before catching himself and checking to see if Malchor noticed. Or the man for that matter. With so much smoke and fire, it’s a wizard’s tower, who knows how these things happen. It’ll wear off soon, maybe no one will notice at all. Presto pushes the sphere to a caravan far from the smoking wreck and the sopping blue man. And clears his throat. "You didn’t happen to find out why they were hear while scrying, did you?"

The now blue Vistani looked perplexed but somehow took it in stride as the sphere doused his wagon's flames. He was no doubt used to even stranger things in the Mists.

"To kidnap your two friends, boy!" Malchor boomed then settled down again. "I'd advise you scry for them while I finish putting out these flames."

He walked off blasting frosty cone after frosty cone over wagon after wagon.

"And you might want to let your other friends in the other place know what's happened, boy. If Kelek and Warduke are together, it's likely their entire damned League is involved."

Presto can vividly recall the so-called League of Malevolence: Kelek the Sorcerer, Skylla the Warlock, Warduke the Fighter, Zarak the Assassin, and Zargash the Cleric of Orcus. Since their near complete slaughter of their main opponents, the self-proclaimed Valor's Call, they haven't called themselves the League of Malevolence much less been together in years... but they are obviously more malevolent than ever and apparently in league once again.

Presto smacks his forehead and angrily pulls the hat down over his messy red hair. "Varla and Lorne, I completely forgot they should be here by now. I got so busy this morning, and those kids were in trouble and...Nevermind, it doesn't matter, I've got work to do."

Presto hurriedly washes the blob of water over the rest of the burning carts and wagons. He's a bit too hasty in his rush to re-enter his tower and a few of the carts go from burning wrecks to dripping piles of wood, but he shrugs it off. It's not like they were going to use them again, at least not anytime soon.

As soon as the last wagon is out, he drops his concentration on the water ball and it drops to the ground, threatening to wash over bystanders and knock them flat, but it passes harmlessly through them as a sort of thick mist before dissipating completely. "Malchor, thank you for coming, you've always been a truly excellent neighbor and friend. Please, come inside, I'll get you some tea and you can relax for a bit while I work on contacting the others and trying to find where they've taken Varla and Lorne."

"The tea can wait. You'd better not try to do too many things at once. You contact your friends. I'll seek the taken," the malcontent Malchor said as he produced an orc's severed hand from the folds of his cloak, sat before Presto's bowl of quicksilver, and began to chant. Presto recognized it as a scrying incantation but with a few subtle twists no doubt interpolated by Malchor himself.

Presto sits back in a wooden chair at his desk with a long strand of copper wire in one hand. It takes a minute of bending the wire (anyone's guess if the bending is even necessary or just for show), but he finds the five minds among the infinite.

"Hello? It's me! Presto! I hate to interrupt whatever you're doing, but we've got some trouble in the Realms. Some of our old friends from long ago have banded together and seem bent on attacking me and those close to me. I just missed them today, but they took Varla and my friend Lorne instead! I'm trying to track them down, but Warduke and Kelek attacked some friends of mine and they barely escaped with their lives!

I'm asking for help. Not just for myself, but for Varla, Kelek, and all of the Realms should the League of Malevolence get stronger. I'll be waiting in the tower. If you can, please hurry, I don't know how long I've got until they attack again!"

Eric is watching tv in the living room with his wife when he hears Presto's voice. Joseph and Molly were tucked in bed, and he was trying to enjoy a few minutes of peace in quiet with Kelly. Upon hearing the message, he sighs loudly. "Honey, I'm sorry. There's trouble in the Realms. I've got to go."

"I'm sorry, no. Kiss the kids for me. I'll come back as fast as I can." Eric stepped through the portal.

Sheila picks up a flute of champagne from a passing caterer's tray and takes a sip. Its opening night at a posh Manhattan gallery in Soho and the turn out it very strong for its latest presentation. Several of her pieces are included in the showings, as the theme of the event is dedicated to the fantastic and surreal. She has been shaking hands and talking up both fans and perspective new patrons for several hours now.

She takes another swallow of the tingling liquid and looks across the room. When, suddenly, the call comes in with the familiar sensation of the short hairs at the back of neck standing ready for the inevitable danger to come. "Be there as soon as I can..." Sheila replies.

Sheila gives a brief glance to the canvas the woman is indicating and replies, "Man's conflict within himself and the demons he must must face to achieve peace and enlightenment."

San Francisco New Orleans, USA, Earth.

Bobby curses when his knife slips and he cuts himself. He fights the urge to hurl knife, cutting board, and vegetables across the kitchen. Breathe. Visualize your calm. Mind wandering during vegetable prep. Rookie mistake. Now there's blood in the shallot brunoise. With a sigh Bobby washes his hands and splashes water in his face for good measure. He's been slipping for years now. He closed down the restaurant, thought about traveling, but then the pandemic Hurricane Katrina hit.

He thinks about calling Sheila. Three One hour time difference, should be okay. Bobby knows she's got an exhibit opening tonight. He should've called to wish her luck. Pressing a clean towel against the cut, he fumbles with his cellphone the telephone one-handed. That's when Presto's voice sounds in his head.

Terri's shift won't be over for another twelve hours. Her hospital's slammed as usual. Bobby doesn't know how she does it. He goes to the bedroom and grabs her heart-shaped locket from the side table. His side. She insists he wear it whenever he visits the Realm. Maybe she hopes it'll serve as an anchor to this world; without it he might very well drift off and never come back. He starts to scribble a note but the pencil breaks in his big, meaty hand. Bobby curses again. Something feels different about this trip. He feels like he needs to say something. But Terri will know where he's gone when she sees the locket missing. He cradles the tiny thing in his hand.

The Barbarian straightens. That's all the preparation he'll need; all his gear for the Realm is in Presto's care at the tower. He closes his eyes and begins the journey.

Hank was driving when the magical summons came. Sure, it was clear to him (and the others, he assumed), that magic didn't work in their earthly realm, but there was no other way to explain the tingle that accompanied the faint glow he was able to perceive each time he exchanged communication with the Realms. The message was clear though. The previous exchanges were chatty, friendly keep-in-touch well-wishes. This was urgent. If Presto had to summon them, the threat was great indeed. The League of Malevolence!

The bow was safely stored away in a golf bag, dormant. The clothes likewise. That was all he needed, everything else the Realms could provide. He paused to grab a bag of Presto's favourite crisps and smiled. It would be good to see the others again.

...and now it was time for part three of Diana's evening ritual - step one being shower (teaching kids martial arts works up a sweat) and step 2 being meditate (teach kids martial arts can disturb one's calm). Step three was plopping down on the couch with dinner and a beer, turning on the TV, and watching some terrible reality TV. Her former Buddhist teacher would probably have a fit if he saw her following up meditation with Married at First Sight. Actually, scratch that. The old woman would have calmly told her the value of other pursuits. That woman could be Zen about her house being on fire. But anyway, Diana liked her trash TV. Call it guilty pleasure if you like.

Diana sinks into the couch and sighs. She has her General Tso's tofu, fresh from the place on the corner. She has her beer of the night: a nice hefeweizen from the brewpub by the dojo. Remote control in hand...

"Hello? It's me! Presto! I hate to interrupt whatever you're doing..."

Diana sighs again. Only this time not in satisfaction. She used to live for an emergency call from Presto. But now... all that delicious tofu... and beer... Diana closes her eyes, takes a calming breath this time, and finds her center. No beer tonight, she says to herself. But can't go on an empty stomach. Too bad I don't get to savor it. Diana takes a big mouthful of food, then grabs the plate and heads for her room to change, continuing to eat as she goes.

A smile creeps across Bobby's lips upon hearing Thunder Club speak to him again. It's a smile of pure joy his face hasn't worn back home in decades. "Soon, my friend," he replies to the weapon, its familiar heft reassuring in his hands. His finger's still bleeding from the kitchen knife cut but Bobby very nearly laughs. It's good to be back.

Bobby puts his arm around Sheila's shoulder (if she's visible). "I'm afraid to ask," he rumbles, "how your opening went. Before you ditched it, that is."

Bobby doesn't waste much time with pleasantries. Sheila, Hank and Diana all get a bear hug from him. Presto gets somewhat gentler treatment as he doesn't want to break his frail friend. He shakes Eric's hand cordially. Then, he leans out a window and whistles for Uni.

"Warduke & Kelek eh?" the barbarian booms. "Lemme at 'em!"

Eric shakes Bobby's hand firmly. "Hiya kid." He thinks back to the Griffon Shield Probably my friends... again. He looks around at the gathering group. "Here we go again everybody. What craziness brings us together this time? What do Warduke and Kelek want Presto?"

Sheila appears and returns her brother's hug. "It WAS going well..." She answers and glances about noticing Diana. She moves over to her close friend and gives her a hug as well.

"Friends." Hank spoke simply as he took the other five into his view. Age had matured him; he spoke a little less carelessly than he used to, pausing first to assess what was transpiring before opening his mouth. His warmth and care did not fade though; the gaze that fell on the others was still fond and familiar. He sent the same sentiment to the bow that had spoken in his head. "You too old friend."

"Varla and Lorne? Have you already scried for them? We can set off straightaway before the trail gets cold."

Malchor snapped his fingers and pointed at himself then the bowl of quicksilver.

After a few embraces and questions about family, Presto gets down to business. "Right, right, so we’ve got a problem. As I’ve told you, Kelek and Warduke have attacked. A glance out the window and a sniff of the wind will show you what they’ve done to the Vistani wagons, and would’ve done to me if I were home. Instead, they’ve taken Varla and Lorne. It sounds like they’re not alone, they’re getting the band back together for another tour of terror. Malchor has been trying to find them, let’s see what he’s got so far…"

He moves to the bowl of quicksilver, and, careful not to breathe too deeply or touch the strange material, looks deeply into the bowl.

"Arcane and necromantic powers try to obfuscate their trail. Much stronger than the last time I encountered them. Stronger than they should be," Malchor said without opening his eyes amidst the sweat which ran down his brow.

"There..."

The surface of the quicksilver became a mirror at first, reflected your faces, then became a window onto a dense forest which showed signs of a legion having moved through it. Trees uprooted or felled for wood, fire pits, animal carcasses, and foul pools of water. A small fort patrolled by giant trolls sat at the edge of that decimated forest, its now one-handed orc commander shouted in his native tongue at his underlings and the handful of human mages atop the 20 foot high walls.Commander One Hand moved into the fort proper, little more than a series of bare stone rooms, and your invisible scrying sensor followed. His prisoners, your friends, lay bound and gagged on the dirty floor, and he growled at the handful of human mages and orc guards near them.Commander One Hand seemed overly circumspect for an orc, almost as though he knew he was being...

"Let me try an observational variation," Malchor said as his visibly trembling fingers danced in the air.

In the corner of the fort's room, you saw a luminous orb about the size of your fist floating near the ceiling. Almost as soon as you saw it, the orb flashed and violent ripples danced through the quicksilver, breaking the connection.

"Another scrying!" Malchor shouted. "No doubt one of the Malevolent spellcasters!"

He tried to stand but slumped back to the floor.

"I had a long day in the lab before helping the Vistani and twisting this spell. This is taxing me more than I'd expected," the wizard said in the defensive tone of one unaccustomed to being seen at less than his best, "but I can teleport you to them using the bastard's hand as an anchor. They're somewhere on this plane... I'm not sure exactly where... but you can teleport back here easily enough, Presto."

He looked up at you all and asked, "Whoever was scrying them saw our sensor, too. They'll know you're coming. Are you ready for a fight?"

Bobby hefts the Thunder Club, his jaw set. "Always ready for a fight! Let's go!"

Presto rubs his short beard, thinking. "They've got a lot of help this time. I wonder who all the humans are. Malchor, you've clearly met the big orc before if you've got his other hand (which is really gross). Who is he?"

"One of the Vistani cut it off before the bastards portaled away," the wizard said. "Get your gear and prepare. I'll... need a minute to focus."

"I can only wonder what horrible schemes those villains are up to this time." Sheila inserts into the conversation. "Some of these bad sort just don't learn from past lessons of getting their butts kicked over and over again. Isn't that one of the signs of insanity? Or..is it stupidity?"

"None of these guys were ever that bright." Eric says, beginning a series of stretches to limber up. "We'd better be ready to go in hard and heavy if they're expecting us."

"Eric is right, they'll be expecting us. Well, we know our formations well enough by now. Eric you're front and centre, Bobby and Diana on either side, but spread out the moment we arrive, I'll be just behind Eric to provide cover fire, Presto you're right at the back, and Sheila, you do what you do best when you're out of sight." Hank found the familiar tactical assessments roll off his tongue easily, it all began to come back to him as he framed himself with a sense of urgency, ready to go.

The first thing Diana hears on arriving in the Realms is the calm voice of The Staff. "Wherever you are is the place you need to be, Acrobat." She's holding it in her hand, as she always does when making the trip between worlds. A small wooden trinket in the "normal" world, an old friend in the Realms. She immediately expands The Staff and gives it a couple of twirls. "It appears I need to be here," she says with a smile. She tries to stay centered as the glorious power of the weapon infuses her body.

The second thing Diana does is take in her surroundings - and it's a lot to take in. She's caught up in processing it when Sheila approaches. Diana returns the hug firmly. "Hey there," she says. "So good to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances. I've got to start coming to visit you more." Diana greets the rest of her old comrades in turn, then listens to the tale that Presto and Malchor have to tell."I bet these guys have something new, or think they do. That's their pattern. Every time they get some new item, spell, or partner, they think that THIS time things will go their way. It's been quite a while since their last scheme though. I'd wager they think they've got something really big." Diana's staff is less than a foot long now, and as she talks she talks, she moves it about absent-mindedly. If her friends notice, they'll recognize it as a nervous habit that usually means Diana is worried.

"I don't like it," she finally says. "We should be on guard."

"I wonder what kind of trolls those are." Eric muses aloud.

"The kind that're about to get their faces smashed in, that's what!"

"I don't speak Orc. What was the one-handed one saying?"

All geared up after rummaging in the locker he keeps in Presto's tower, Bobby moves to Hank's left as instructed. He kisses Terri's locket for luck, and gives Hank a nod to say he's ready.

Sheila nods to Hank's assessment of her doing what she does best. Which is to disappear. She takes a look at the situation through the viewing pool and gets ready to vanish.

Eric tightens the straps on The Shield and draws his sword. "All right, let's do this. I'd like to get back home in time to make pancakes."

"Are we confident enough to teleport right into the fort? It'll be a tight battle!" Hank analysed the scrying further for a better way to engage as he translated what the orc commander said for the others. The orcs and their kin were familiar enemies.

As Malchor begins the process of teleporting them miles away, Presto is busy holding open his Hat with one hand and shoveling countless things off half a dozen shelves with the other. This jar, that bag, that stone, a few vials filled with...probably parts of various animals. He reaches deeep down inside the bag (far deeper than it should be possible for it to go) and arranges them into prepared spots so he can reach them in a hurry.

"I don't like this, it's not enough time, I need time to prepare and plan, to think." He forces himself to take a long breath and lets it back out. "Ok. Ok. Alright. I'm as ready as I'm going to be. I'll be right behind you. I'm going to prepare something as well. " As the others prepare their equipment, Presto reaches into a couple different pots on opposite shelves and mixes them together while muttering a few words under his breath and staring at a random point on a near wall. The more observant note that the wall, while undamaged, is heavily scarred, charred, and pockmarked. Phosphorescent sparks appear in midair as blazing heat emanates from an ever-increasing tear leading...somewhere hot. A pure flame appears through the tear, but instead of flickering it holds its shape as it reaches through the tear.

The tip of Malchor's lip curled up during the fire elemental summoning. Was that a smile?

"Teleporting is so a V move...or DM's." Sheila speaks up. "They both have used that pop in and out move since our first moments here in the realms, to escape or avoid answering questions."

"Or, I could simply open a hole in the wall we could walk through and then Presto could teleport us out?"

Bobby is losing patience and really getting worked up now. He growls and starts beating himself on the chest. The Thunder Club begins to glow with eagerness as well.

"Let's go already!!!!!!"

Sheila prepares to goes invisible at the moment they are all teleported.