<<the following message takes place some miles East of Edgekeep>>


The thick wall of trees stood like a towering monolith,
erupting like a parasite unbidden from the loose ground at the edge of the
plain.
It stood undisturbed, silent. A sentry keeping watch with
assuredness, ruling with fear as its greatest weapon. Fear of the unknown.
Fear of death.
It was a sea of the darkest green. Almost black- almost a solid onyx
wall, polished to a sheen.
Beyond it lay the plain. Brown grasses waved in the early morning
light as the sun peaked over the top of the black forest.

And then, a rustling within. Small ripples in the impermeable wall.


**
He came staggering out, throwing vines and tearing thorns from his
heavily furred clothing.
In his right hand a dagger bled, shedding crimson onto the tall
waving reeds into which he waded in a frenzy. His breathing came in rough,
ragged gasps as he stumbled through the weeds, running, panicked, almost
frozen with terror.
In his left hand he clutched a quarterstaff, the head of which was
smeared with bloodied black fur.

His dull brown hair was matted with dirt and half-dried blood, and
his face was streaked with the same. His furs and woolens were blotted with
red as well, torn and shredded to let loose the flood of life from within
him.

From behind, in the forest, a roar exploded into the crisp morning
air. He threw himself to the ground, half falling, as a huge black shape
rocketed over him, saliva and blood splattering him as he was momentarily
encompassed  by its shadow, and then it was over him and it landed not ten
feet away, throwing up gouts of sand and dirt as its huge clawed feet dug
for purchase.

He raised himself to his feet in time to watch it slowly turn around
to face him.
It was covered with blood. Most its own, some of it his. It was
huge, bathed in a black fur so course as to look like feathers. Its head was
small, and almost all mouth. Large teeth flashed when it roared, rows and
rows or large, bloodied teeth.
Its small red eyes were nestled on either side of its head, put
where its ears should have been. They moved about independantly, looking him
over as it slowly approached. It knew he couldn't run now.

He dropped the bloodied dagger he held in his right hand, and
reached behind him.
He detached one of three long javelins he had knotted to a sinew
rope on his back. He held it there.

He felt dizzy. He'd lost too much blood, and was losing more. If
this thing were intelligent, it could outwait him. Just stand there and wait
for him to fall over-

It lunged, its huge muscled back legs digging deep into the soft
earth as it rocketed forward. Its mouth opened into a cavern of shining
daggers as it roared, a high pitched squeal; reaching for him, straining
toward his neck with a hunger akin to unrestricted, mindless bloodlust- even
as the piercing scream turned to a gurgle and he whipped his javelin around
and sent it plunging down the thing's throat.

It rammed into him with all the inertia its several hundred pound
body had gathered, and he was sent plummeting backwards into the outer
fringes of the forest.
He felt his head slam into something... a tree, probably, before he
blacked out.

He awoke with sunlight warming his face. He felt dried blood
constricting his cheeks. A lock of matted hair was drooping down in front of
his left eye, slicing the blue sky in two.
It must have been about noon, with the sun shining straight down
past the wall of the forest. A miracle he was still alive. That nothing had
come to consume him which he was unconscious. He sat for a couple moments
more, savoring the warmth of the sun- the absence, for once, of danger. Then
he got his feet under him and stood carefully, sliding his back upward
against the trunk of the tree which had dealt him a blow earlier. Nothing
was broken, fortunately. He seemed to be awfully lucky today.

He turned to his left, and saw the creature. It was definitely dead.
Flies were already buzzing around its half open mouth, from which protruded
his bloodsoaked javelin.
He approached the still form of the black monster. The fires had
gone out of its red eyes. They seemed to hang now, drooping, from the sides
of the thing's head. Deflated.
He placed a grimy hand on the javelin, and with a wrenching jerk,
ripped it from its mantel place. He slipped it into the harness on his back,
where the other two were still firmly nestled.
Leaving the creature behind him, he searched for the dagger he had
dropped. It didn't take him long to find it. And then the hike was on once
again. He hadn't stopped moving for almost six months for fear that they
would catch up to him. And apparently his fears had been justified. He had
begun to wish he had never crossed their path. Nothing good had come of it.
And, no doubt, nothing good WOULD come of it.

Leaning heavily on his quarterstaff, he continued his journey
westward. He had heard rumors of a city which lay not to far that
way.
Indeed, he could see it from where he stood.

He had overestimated his strength. By the time he hit the road which
led into the city, he could almost feel it seeping out of him. Seeping out
through the reopening wounds that adorned him like so many service
medals.
His staff carried most of his weight as he staggered down the road,
toward the city gates. Yes... he could almost make them out now. His vision
was strangely clouded. As if someone had slipped a thin sheet of wool behind
his eyes. He thought he could make out a couple forms standing there,
watching him.

His legs gave out beneath him, and he was on his knees. He tried to
force himself up again, pushing on his staff. He was a mere thirty feet away
from safety. Relative safety. He couldn't get up.
He looked up again at the gates, saw one of the smeared forms moving
cautiously toward him. Several more figures appeared behind him, carrying
things. Crossbows... probably.
The figure was to him. His voice was very quiet. Very far away.

'Let me help you'. That was what it sounded like. It could just  as
well have been 'let me kill you' for all he could have done about it. The
guard took him by the left arm and half carried him, half guided him, into
the city limits. He thought he heard something about hospital... healing.
Yes, that was what he needed. Hospital.

Healing.

Darkness.
..............................

Painfully opening his blood encrusted eyes proves to be an ardurous task
but voices near and far bring his consciousness from the numb darkness
to the painful light.

The guards noticed that he had awoken again, this time seemingly more
coherent than the last few times, so they let him to his feet, and he is
helped with some difficulty through two large swinging doors that arorn
thr front of the nondescript building. Many of his wounds were bleeding
freely again. Apparently that luck he was so keen on only hours ago was
now going to leave him in the hands of complete strangers. He managed to
keep his legs underneth him, and to raise his suddenly heavy, bloated
head up to look around him. It did little good. Everything was dark,
splattered and streaked. He let his head go again. Mumbled voices
tumbled out around him, swirling and bubbling in his ears. Healing, he
heard that again. Herbs. Spells. Lay him down. He felt the pressure of
something on his back, and vaguely realized that he was lying down.
Someone was opening his mouth, and then there was wetness in it.

instinctively, he swallowed...

...............................

He was of medium height, with a rather slight build. His hair was
very light brown, bordering on blonde(ish). He stepped up to the cot at which
Twysted sat.

"How are you?"

"Alright, I guess. better than I was before...  how long have I been
here?"

"About seven hours. Can I get you anything? Food?"

"No... I'm not hungry. I could do with some information, though.
Where am I, for starters."

"You're in the Healer's Abode. I type of hospital, really. We care
for the needy here, and they pay what they can."

"How about a little more... ah... general. Like, the name of this
city?"

"Oh. Edgekeep."

"Alright. Where could I find a place to stay, and a place to
eat?"

"I would suggest the Falling Tower for food. I've been there once of
twice. Excellent stone soup. My tastes in housing, however, are a bit
eclectic. You might want to ask the opinion of someone aside from myself.
Other than that, I would suggest exploring."

"Exploring. Huh, I've done enough of THAT to last me awhile. Well, I
guess I'd best be off. Thanks so much for your help-  oh, what do I owe
you?"

"Forty gold-pieces would cover the cost of the potion I used."

"Good." Twysted reached into a satchel which he wore at his belt and
pulled out approximately that amount. He then cast about for a moment, and
noticed that his staff, daggers and javelins were stacked next to the bed.
The daggers he put on his belt, the javelins on his back, and, picking up the
quarter-staff, he stood.
"Thanks again." He said, as he headed toward the door.

"You're welcome. May our paths not cross again in this room soon."

