From the Journals of PRINCE HALDEMAR OF HAAKEN Lord Admiral of the Mightiest Empire Captain of the Ever-Victorious PRINCESS ARK Imperial Explorer, etc, etc. NYXMIR 11, 1964 AY: I am astounded by the complete lack of interest in geographical matters on the part of Alphatia's younger mages. Worse, it has been found that the geographical teachings offered at Eriadna High are based on the fallacies of a Thyatian lowlife! This general - without a doubt a failure in the Thyatian legions - retired after a shabby campaign in Thothia. There he stole an ancient map of this world from a pillaged temple. The map was but a simple continental outline with a few words here and there. Upon his return, this lowlife invented kingdoms and empires, then placed them on the map and wrote tome upon tome about them. His knowledge of ancient Nithian and his interest in the truth being what they were, nothing good came out of this ignorant barbarian's overactive imagination. He made a fortune selling his books, and many took them as the final authority on the world. His errors were legion. Ridiculous assumptions were made about the size of the Thyatian Empire. The map shows the limits of that empire stretching beyond the Wendarian Reaches, north of the Principalities of Glantri. Poppycock! There are at least a half-dozen countries between Thyatis and Glantri having nothing to do with Thyatis. You can forget about those absurd borders, too. These were in fact various creases in the original crumpled map which that Thyatian dimwit mistook for actual borders. The "Empire of the Great Khan," east of our province of Esterhold, is another fantasy. There are indeed large steppes there, but no Great Khan - we'd know about it by now! And, yes, about this Dorfin Empire: It was the joke of a certain gnomish king, the inventor of wondrous but totally useless contraptions, who went by the name of King Dorfin IV. His kingdom is, in truth, merely the workshop of a few hundred gnomes in the hills of Traladara. One of Dorf's favorite pastimes was to send loyal followers beyond the Sind Desert. There, they would pose as plenipotentaries of the imaginary "Empire of Dorfin IV," then hire local people to carry a sealed message back to the real King Dorfin. These strange messengers, obviously from a distant place, seemed to make quite an impression on local Traladaran barons when they brought the gnomish king those phony and pompous greetings from his "imperial cousin to the west." These messages hinted at the outrageous size of this bogus empire, alleged to be twice the size of Alphatia! What nonsense! And the barons believed it, the fools. I shall skip the details on other equally fals kingdoms such as "Vulcania" (that was the Thyatian general's wife's name), "Cestia" (his mistress), "Brasol" (his dog), "Tangor" (a brand of cheap beer found in the streets of Newkirk), or "Zyxl" (a deceased gladiatorial hero whom the general claimed was also a fallen queen of that same nation). For all this, I find that I grudgingly admire such a bold and irreverent joker. After all, everyone fell for his fake encyclopedias. I propose that in the name of grand buffoonery, we keep these place names, since they are now the ones with which laymen are most familiar, but we should use them in a purely geographic sense. For example, let's do away with the nation of Nentsun (an Ethengarian word for a Heldanner's arm pit) and simply call that land the Nentsun Peninsula. Similarly, we'll forget about the state of Izonda (Hin for "fruitcake" - it figures), renaming that area the Desert of Izonda, since this is what is really there. So be it! It is time to see for myself if this old Nithian map has any truth to it. I today obtained permission from her Imperial Majesty for the /Princess Ark/ be recommissioned for a last but glorious mission of exploration in the name of Our Illustrious Empire.... ALPHAMIR 15, 1965: Finally, she is airworthy again! It took no less than 35 master crafters and 300 slaves to refit the beautiful skyship. Her five masts stand majestically over her black hull, bearing the sails that will trap the magical wind. One can almost feel a strange life emanating from her as she gently pulls on her mooring lines in her desire to cast off and head into the sky. SULAMIR 10, 1965: Days have come and gone since our departure from Sundsvall. After leaving the capital, I ordered a southerly course. Our /Princess Ark/ sailed well into the clouds above Edairo, Caerdwicca, and Beitung. Soon we reached the barbaric coast that lies east of the Thyatian Hinterlands. Some people refer to the region as The Coast, or the Four Kingdoms. The Four Kingdoms no more exist here than water exists in our bilge. As far as The Coast goes, we in Alphatia prefer calling it the Jungle Coast, because that's what it is: a forsaken, endless jumble of tropical growth. It is always hot and humid here, and torrential rains from the Bellissarian Sea drench the place every day. If the boredom doesn't kill you, then the savages, diseases, and monsters will. It is no wonder the stiff-necked Thyatians did not waste their time in conquering thie foul region. The white sandy beaches are idyllic, but no pleasures can be found here. Immediately beyond the beaches stretch hundreds of miles of rolling hills. Dark jungles blanket the highest terrain, and repugnant swamps corrupt the lowlands. SULAMIR 25, 1965: The savages who live on the eastern Jungle Coast are quite different from those in the neighboring Thyatian Hinterlands. The latter are believed to be descendants of slaves brought from the Nithian colonies nowadays known as Olstland and Vestland. The Nithians carved out a southern domain from the jungle for their priests. Then three tribes of slaves rebelled and escaped north, seeking their fatherland. Instead, these ruffians found (and founded) what would later become Thyatis. A century later, Nithia foundered. The unruly slaves who stayed south obliterated whatever remained of their Nithian origins; in a few centuries, all was lost to the jungle. These hardy, blond Hinterlanders survived and became savage jungle warriors who were capable of fighting the original natives on equal footing. SUDMIR 3, 1965: Terrible, those natives. We came close to a large town deep in the rain forest. Smoke from their fires could be seen from miles away. Thousands of huts sprawled across a clearing in the forest, with several stone buildings placed near the clearing's center. We spotted what seemed to be a temple of some sort. Upon our descent, it was observed that the natives were of a much smaller build than the Hinterlanders. Tattoos covered their copper skin, and most of them had long, black hair tied in the back. The natives immediately attacked our vessel, using poison needles and blowguns against our exposed crewmen when we came within range. The gray substance on the needles was deadly, and we lost two men. Magic from their barbaric sorcerers cracked and thundered, but the /Princess Ark/ withstood the crude spell-strikes. As we sailed away, we spotted some of their shamans - or se we assumed those monstrosities to be, as they all had various snakelike features. Alas, we did not remain to study this culture any further. We will return at a later time to deal with these natives in a more fitting way. I sent an invisible messenger back to Her Imperial Majesty with our last position, then ordered the /Princess Ark/ farther east along the Jungle Coast. SUDMIR 25, 1965: This morning I watched one of the nicest sunrises just as we steered eastward toward the Pass of Cestia. There we reached an unknown cape on the continental coast. I named it Cape Eriadna, in honor of Her Imperial Majesty. The place seems deserted. Despite the hot and rainy weather of this area, no rain forest grows here; instead, savannah spreads out as far as we can see, with occasional clusters of trees dotting the land. Unlike the dominant northeasterly winds of the Jungle Coast, the winds here usually blow to the southeast. SUDMIR 26, 1965: Talasar, my second in command, is in charge of replenishing the /Princess Ark/'s food and water supplies. The magic from his Immortal patron is powerful, but some of the supplies are now reported to be spoiled. This is quite unlike Talasar; he is a dedicated priest. This will be investigated at a later time. I am sending an away team to gather food and samples of the local vegetation. VERTMIR 1, 1965: The away team - or what's left of it - has finally returned. Xordon, the captain of the guard, took matters in his own hands and mounted a rescue mission to find the team. I quote from his report: "We had marched 30 miles south when we found the antelopes that the team was tracking. With their hunting wands, the men should have easily caught their prey, skinned it, and cut it up. But there was no trace of the team nor of any fight. "Then Ramissur, my forward boltman, saw a glint on a nearby hill. I ordered the men into skirmish order and approached it. The grass was nearly 3' tall, and the ground was a bit marshy. Suddenly, one after the other, guards screamed in horror. I ordered the men into a tighter group but found that those who had screamed were missing. We made it to the hill and found two survivors from the away team. None appeared wounded, but they bore strange purple marks on their bodies, like bruises. Both were insane, and in their mad babbling they screamed of an attack by tentacles that shot from under mosses and peat. The other poor devils on their team must have been pulled underneath and devoured by foul beasts. "Once warned, it wasn't difficult to spot the concealed creatures on the way back. My two elite boltmen on point took pleasure in blasting the things once they found them. Ramissur managed to stun one creature that had rags hanging from its tentacles, rags that probably belonged to Azoth, the Dispel Warden of the lost team. By Razud, I'll now have to train Ramissur in the art of magic dispelling. Azoth was a fine guard. I cast a binding on the creature's mind, then brought it back. And so we returned." VERTMIR 5, 1965: These beasts are quite a discovery - they are vegetable beings. I have named them "Cestian gobblers." Each appears to have a short, fat trunk with a slimy, sphincterlike mouth on top. Three to six gooey tentacles grow on the sides of each trunk, which are used to capture prey. The tentacles exude a substance capable of stunning an ox. When I brought fresh meat near the opening of one gobbler, small translucent tendrils stuck out of it like little tongues, each of them ending in a noisy, smacking suction cup. It took the gobbler very little time to suck the juices from the meat. Afterward, the opening widened and the gobbler gobbled its food. I was able to retrieve Azoth's partially digested remains from one plant, and after some cleaning of his remains, I animated the late warden's body and set it on permanent duty in the hold. There, away from the common crew, Azoth will cater to the Cestian gobbler, now properly restrained and potted in a large jar. I was surprised to see that the gobbler wouldn't attack Azoth in his present state. In fact, it seems the gobbler now looks forward to Azoth's arrival with fresh food. This unusual vegetable specimen deserves to be brought to the Imperial Greenhouse. It appears these gobblers commonly grow throughout the coast in the Pass of Cestia. This explains why we've found no human population there. Beware of low-lands with high grasses in this region! This is where gobblers are most likely to be found. After this discovery, I ordered the /Princess Ark/ back to her original easterly course. VERTMIR 7, 1965: After Cape Eriadna, the coast runs directly to the south. Another land lies to the east; the pattern in the clouds is quite clear about it. So far, it seems the old Nithian map is quite accurate. After pondering our course, I decided to head due east. Heavy clouds persisting in the south warned of violent weather; I feared the /Princess Ark/ would hardly be able to climb above them. The eastern coast is no more than a few hundred miles away. VERTMIR 17, 1965: After reaching the western coastline at dawn, I decided to follow the coast to the north rather than penetrate this unknown land. The terrain is similar to the Jungle Coast, and so far no sign of population has been seen. By evening, we reached the northern end of the Isle of Cestia, which I named Cape Andor. Our choice is either to veer toward the isle to the northeast, or to follow the other side of Cestia, due south. Tonight I will consult the Auguries and make a decision. Which is the most interesting course? VERTMIR 18, 1965: At midnight, Talasar traced the circle around the mizzenmast, then inscribed the eight runes. The crew was silent, perfect in observing the ritual. The drummers, in trances, slowly beat the pace as the ship pivoted on its center, from starboard to port. The moon appeared late and low on the horizon. At the point where the shadow of the mast intersected with a rune, Talasar lifted his hand. The drummers and the ship stopped. It was the rune of Ice and Sun. So be it: Today we rested, but tomorrow we shall sail away from the coast to the northeast. So spoke the Immortal Razud. TSALMIR 8, 1965: Wise is the Immortal Razud! His path has lead us to a strange island, which we discovered after following the coast for a few days. This island is a large one by our standards (and probably bigger than what the Thyatians, call their "Known World"). To the west lies the Bellissarian Sea; to the east is an ocean unknown to us. We named this place the Isle of Oceania. To the south of Oceania is a smaller island, 200 miles long. This rocky formation is the realm of sea birds and large lizards; its rocks are almost completely covered with their droppings. The birds feed on the fist, the lizards consume the birds' eggs and remains, and fish feast on the sludge washed from the rocks into the sea by the storms. I shall name this place Everfeed. A few forests grow along the rare beaches of Oceania, but for the most part its mountains for jagged cliffs that drop straight into the sea. The reefs and shoals around Oceania would be deadly to seafaring vessels. The mountains rise over 20,000' in height. We discovered the abandoned ruins of two towns built on ledges above the sea. Their architecture is unknown, and time has washed away any inscriptions or paintings. Judging from several imposing buildings, this must once have been an advanced culture. No clue was found to tell us what may have happened to the "Oceanians." In the morning, we'll explore a narrow mountain pass that opens over a small bay on the south side of the island. Through the pass flows a river that forms a high cataract plunging straight into the bay. TSALMIR 11, 1965: After days of trial and error, we are closer now to the center of the mountains. Many passes branched off the one from which we started, some forming a maze of jagged rocks and dizzying gorges, others ending in treacherous, impassable walls. Maneuvering out of these dead ends proved considerably more difficult than I had expected. The /Princess Ark/ is a large ship and cannot climb above 10,000'. Several passes nearly reached that limit, one of them causing the ship to scrape her keel. The weather is much cooler here than near the coast. At sundown, we found another ruined town, this one quite huge and with a once-mighty citadel. Still no clue was at hand as to the fate of the Oceanians. We anchored off several promontories to prevent the /Princess Ark/ from swaying into the cliffs on the wind. Clouds formed around us, muffling every sound. Now for our sleep. TSALMIR 16, 1965: By the blessings of the Immortals, we yet live! The crew is exhausted from a difficult day. Visibility today was reduced to less than 30' - a mere fraction of the /Princess Ark/'s length. Late during the night of the 15th, Second Class Petty Officer Nadonosor reported that the watch was missing, along with a launch. The deck watch was young Tarias, the midshipman sent along with us by the House of Arrogansa for his education in the science of sky navigation. I immediately ordered Xerdon and his men to follow me to the ruins. If Tarias died, then so might I. We found the launch on one of the old bastions, where Tarias's footprints led toward the citadel. The place was ghastly at night. Murmurs and whispers could be heard everywhere, but never could we find their source. Tracking the boy took time and skill on the part of Xerdon. At last, when it seemed we would never find the boy in this maze of collapsed houses, we reached an open-air temple. There, chained to an alter in the center, lay Tarias, staring blankly into the sky. Our midshipman was someone's sacrifice! Yet we could see that he still lived - and we could see his unhuman captors, who sent the chill of fear through me. A ring of translucent beings knelt around the altar! Instantly, Xerdon ordered his boltmen to blast the ghosts away. Screams of unearthly terror and pain shook the temple as the undead wisps were scattered like paper ash. Forward boltman Ramissur was the first to reach the midshipman, and he had nearly removed the rusty shackles when a swarm of shadowy apparitions swirled around him. The boltman was clearly dying! Fortunately, I could cast a magical /light/ to relieve him. As expected. the shadows reeled back in terror from the illumination. We moved in and thought our battle over. But as we rushed forward in the moment of our triumph, we discovered a terrifying presence that had remained unseen. A huge, pitch-black dragon emerged from the dark, looming over the altar. Xerdon's men froze as it advanced, and I am afraid that I did the same. But the dragon stayed its attack. To our astonishment, it said in perfect Alphatian, "You are trespassing on lands which ought to remain the domain of my kin and of the dead. You who are called Haldemar - you have a choice: take back the boy, or save your warrior. Make your decision now, and you may return to your ship unharmed. I shall keep the soul of he who remains." I had no certainty that the wyrm would be true to its word, nor that it would not come after us again. Yet I could see a multitude of ghostly shapes and unspeakable abominations coming up the streets of the ruined city. We had run out of time. I made my choice. I /had/ to save Tarias of Arroganse; his family is a terrible enemy. With deep regrets, I pointed to the boy. As I did, Xerdon turned to me with flames of anger in his eyes. I fear I have lost a friend as well as a superior boltman. As we hurried away with the limp form of Tarias in our arms, the wyrm's thundering laughter echoed in the ruins. We reached the ship with no further incident. Suspecting more trouble from the monster, I ordered watches with torches to the prow, then cast off. Very slowly, guided by the words of the watches, the /Princess Ark/ veered away from the ruins and moved down into the darkness of the gorge. That wiley wyrm! It did not lie, for it let us reach our ship in safety - but it promised nothing more! The expected attack came swiftly. Three lesser dragons were seen on the approach, and they swooped upon us three times. Each time, their teeth, claws, and wings ripped a whole sail to shreds. Each time, Xerdon's boltmen braved the danger in defense of our ship, while the bosun exhorted his sailors to man the riggings at all costs. We could not afford to lose our sails here! It was Talasar who saved the night. He later revealed that he sensed the nature of these dragons, which were clearly not of this world. Our priest of Razud had closed his eyes to better sense the presence of the wyrms. Then he cast his magic, and one of them, somewhere in the darkness, roared in pain and agony. It fell like a rock, and the sound of its bones crashing into the jagged ridges below echoed through the gorge. An insane, monstrous shriek rose from the citadel - and the /Princess Ark/ lurched forward as if struck by a storm. We do not know if the ship moved on her own or if she was lifted and thrust away by some enormous force. In any event, the sudden movement was enough to outdistance the wyrms, though only by great luck did we avoid smashing into the rocks. We flew all night, and by this morning's dawn we had reached the cataract at the bay. The deck was a scene of utter carnage. The crew had suffered many wounds, though no deaths. However, the mountain passes are marked in our chart room. Someday I shall return, for if there are such powerful dragons, great treasures and magic must lie beyone. Alas, the fate of the Oceanians is now clear. [TSALMIR 17, 1965 - ANDRUMIR 11, 1965] (Dragon #155) ANDRUMIR 12, 1965: Our flight over the kingdom of Manakara was uneventful. The high plateaus of Tulear eventually passed, and we reached the northern border of Androkia, near the coast. We then continued southwest over the sea to avoid direct confrontation with the Androkians, xenophobes about whom we were warned by King Mananjary himself. The decision was made more to please Lady Abovombe then to avoid difficulties with the natives. (I neglected to mention that the lady has stayed aboard the /Princess Ark/ to join our voyage of discovery. Upon our return to Sundsvall, she will be King Mananjary's ambassador. Lady Abovombe has a refreshing personality, and the crew is becoming fond of her.) As night fell, I heard a noise against my window, at the /Princess/'s stern. A small bat was there, apparently terrified by my presence but too exhausted by its flight above the sea to flitter away. I pitied the poor thing and put it in a cage in my room. It will be yet another witness to my long journey. ANDRUMIR 24, 1965: The journey across the southern edge of the Cestian Pass was quite an endeavor. The quasi-permanent storms in this region dropped so much rain on the /Princess/'s deck that she almost alighted on the roaring sea - a fate that would have destroyed her since she was built to fly, not to float. The /Princess/'s hulk is much too light to withstand even normal sea navigation, much less a violent storm. Fortunately, the crew performed splendidly in bailing out the water. Any navigation of these waters by a seagoing vessel would be dangerous and thus should be avoided. ANDRUMIR 26, 1965: We reached the continental coast after sundown. I would have ordered a southerly course if one of the crewmen had not discovered some lights in the distance. perhaps a native village. I've decided to investigate, using the clouds for cover. We shall see what we shall see. ANDRUMIR 28, 1965: Our approach toward what we thought be a native village became a very serious situation. We are fortunate to have survived. Indeed, there were lights, but not from a village - they came from a large, gloomy castle perched atop an incredible cliff overlooking the Gulf of Mar. All seemed to be fine as we observed the fortress from our position in the clouds, until I noticed that the /Princess/ was getting dangerously close to the cliff, despite my orders to stand off. Our strenous attempts to pull away inexplicably failed. It was then I detected a powerful magical force that had locked onto the /Princess/'s bow. Nothing could break that grip - neither my powers, nor those of Talasar, nor those of the dispel wardens. As we slowly drifted down to the black fortress, knights in armor could be seen standing motionless in the rain and the wind. All of them bore the coat of arms of the Heldannic Order. How such an insignificant clerical order built a mighty fortress so far from the Heldann Freeholds was at first inconcceivable; later events would explain all, as we learned. As soon as the range permitted it, the battle started. The boltmen and their Cestian squires did their best. But when the /Princess/ reached the main Heldannic bastion, the heavily armored knights boarded the ship en masse and overwhelmed the crew. There was no alternative to surrender in hopes of saving the ship. Of course, for a wizard of my status, being "captured" is a relative term. I had copiously prepared myself, then allowed these knights to believe I was their prisoner. I followed their commander, planning to learn the Order's reasons for this act of war against a ship of Her Imperial Majesty. As the commander of the /Princess Ark/, I was predictably and forcible taken to the fortress's high priestess. Her welcome was very cold. These knights knew about wizardry and had made all the right moves to ensure I would not cast spells. I had a short conversation with the high priestess, which did not amount to much since she had protected her thoughts against any sort of magical /empathy/. Soon enough I tired of her charades, and I played my trump card. Years ago, when I dabbled in spell research, I stubmled upon an interesting spell of /delaying/ - a rather difficult spell, but if used correctly it confers the ability to delay a number of spells until a certain condition occurs. It will not work for more than an hour for me, but that was sufficient. A few blinks of my right eye and a casual sniff were all it took to /time stop/ this fine company. My, whan an interesting discovery I then made. A little /invisibility/ here and a bit of /teleport/ there, and before long I had found a temple at the center of the fortress. A stairway spiraled down into the rock, leading to a crypt - a regular sort of crypt, mind you, like the ones that invariably contain someone's grave. After blasting away a few creatures that did not expect my impromptu appearance, I read the inscriptions carved just about everywhere. Crafty sculptors, these knights. The Heldannic Knights have been on a quest for decades to find the mortal remains of their Spiritual Patron. One of their heroes had made it this far and had actually found the grave. The knights managed to create a permanent /gate/ to this place, then built their fortress above the ancient ccrypt. So far, they had succeeded in keeping it secret, which leads me to believe they murdered the wizard hired to create the /gate/, as well as all those who built the castle. This explains why they might desire the destruction of the /Princess/. It took some sophisticated magical doing on my part to remove the corpse and take it away into the planes, to a place of my knowledge alone. Just as I returned from my journey, knights poured into the crypt and captured me again - this time for sure. Their anger was as palpable as the many sharp blades they laid at my throat. It would have been over for me, but the high priestess arrived in time. And she /knew/ what I had done. It took some very careful discussing to sort things out. A shrewd negotiator, that lady; I grant her that. Eventyally, she ordered the release of both ship and crew, in exchange for which she and I went into the planes the next day and recovered the body of the order's Spiritual Patron. I must admit that I had a very tough time breaking away from the priestess. Her intention, of course, was to never let me go - I was too dangerous, now - but neither was my intention to stay. The priestess had what she wanted - the "holy relic" - and my ship was free and far enough from the fortress to avoid being pulled back. We left immediately; the empire has no interest in the clerical matters of petty knighthoods. My personal interest in this whole episode lies now in discovering the nature of the force that pulled the /Princess/ down - and this I am intent upon unveiling one day. It will have to wait for now. CYPRIMIR 1, 1965: After returning to the /Princess/, I ordered a new course, away from the fortress. These knights will probably be looking for us, but I care no more about them. We are now sailing south over the coast. The land has become an extremely rock, uninviting region. Despite some rainfall, it seems the vegetation is getting sparser. CYPRIMIR 10, 1965: We have now reached the region called the Vulture Peninsula. It is a complete desert, where occasional sand dunes alternate with desolate rocky wasteland. According to the stars, we have sailed well south of the Meridional Tropics, and the winds regularly blow from the west. Despite the presence of the sea, very little vegetation grows here at all. Temperatures are similar to that of southern Alphatia in summertime. The very poor quality of the soil and extremely dry winds coming from the land contribute to this infertile wilderness. CYPRIMIR 16, 1965: CYPRIMIR 18, 1965: CYPRIMIR 19, 1965: CYPRIMIR 20, 1965: CYPRIMIR 21, 1965: CYPRIMIR 24, 1965: CYPRIMIR 25, 1965: HASTMIR 4, 1965: Last night, Lady Abovombe and I had a fine dinner in my quarters. We spoke at length of the potential for enhanced cultural exchanges between our nations. I am convinced she is perceiving a certain charm in my Alphatian manners - or perhaps it is my gray hair. I got very close to a more personal approach to the subject but was interrupted by my little bat companion's sudden tantrum in its cage. Lady Abovombe took pity on the furry thing, pampered and petted it, then returned to her cabin. The bat stared at me all along. I could have sworn I have seen that look before. The air is much cooler now that we have reached the Wyrms Strait, on the southern coast of the Vulture Peninsula. The crew has switched to winter uniforms. Many of the Cestian squires are in sick bay with chills; they are not used to colder weather. We are proceeding due west. HASTMIR 6, 1965: The water here is dark green, thus the name of the bay - Green Bay. I ordered the ship to wait until sundown before reaching the coast. High mountains rise to the west, and I would like to examine them. There has to be some civilization in this region. Most of the coast is covered with forests of oaks, and game seems plentiful. HASTMIR 7, 1965: Aha! We have flown over several villages already. I was expecting human population, perhaps luckier people than the Varellyans of the Vulture Peninsulaa. Instead, we found very tall people, closer to the size of ogres but not quite as muscular. Detail we difficult to determine in the dark, so I ordered Xerdon and few boltmen to join me in an ground expedition to observe the natives. The ship is to go offshore to avoid frightening the local population and is return tomorrow night at the same place and time to pick us up. HASTMIR 8, 1965: This was a rather surprising expedition. As planned, we left the /Princess Ark/ and approached a native settlement. There must have been no more than 500 people there, with children and cattle. These people are indeed as tall as ogres, strong but not as massive. Their skins are red, and most favor a style in which their black hair is tied back in long, single tassels. They wore elegant and very colorful graments made of felt and wool, including hats and boots. The most surprising characteristic they shared was their obvious elven phusical features - delicate facial lines and pointed ears. Wood was a material commonly used in the construction of their houses. The logs were ornately carved and painted. At the center of the village stood a stone totem, with many sculptures of various animal heads. I ordered Xerdon to remain at his post, then turned /invisible/ to continue my observations. I visited a few houses, which looked veryclean and quite comfortable. It was late and many of the natives were sound asleep, although two woke up as I entered their houses. They must have the keen hearing of the elves. I saw a house curiously built on top of a high menhir stone. Despite the precarious look of the house, it was verysolidly built - as it should for people of that size. I /levitated/ up to the door since I could not find a stairway. Fortunately the massive door was ajar, so I peeked in. An old female was sitting on a rocking chair, reading a leatherbound book and smoking a pipe. A large cauldron was puffing steam in the fireplace, releasing the pleasant smell of stew. This is when I noticed the female had lowered her book and was quietly watching me. She cleared her throat and pointed at another chair, near the table - a rather large chair, of course. It was all rather embarrassing. After a final puff on her pipe, she pulled out what looked like dried lizard tongues from a nearby jar, then tossed them into the fire, muttering some incantation. I decided not to intervene. She turned back, and said, in perfect Alphatian, "Well, visitor, why were you sneaking around our village?" After a number of probing questions, she was apparently satisfied of my intentions. She called herself Ngezitwa in her dialect, and said her people were the N'djatwa (pronounced: un DJA twa). They seemed to be a crossbreed of elves and either ogres or giants - and a very successful mixture at that, offering the strength of giant humanoids with reasonable spellcasting abilities. It seems that they kept the best of both worlds. The N'djatwa have lived on the shores of the Green Bay for centures, even before the Varellyans reached their golden age. In fact, the N'djatwa had regular trade with the latter until the culture of the Vulture Peninsula was obliterated. This did not hurt the N'djatwa, since they could no longer rely on the shipment of goods from Varellya nor on any wealth created by commerce. The N'djatwa did travel north in search of other people and bet the bellicose Androkinas on the Isle of Cestia. That proved disastrous to the expedition, of which only a handful returned. The N'djatwa shun the uninhabited desert, the savannah, and the jungle. To the west lies a very large mountain range, and to the east a land of horrible monsters. The latter is mostly surrounded with mountains, but occasionally monsters wander into their lands, near the Green River. The N'djatwa built fortified walls in several mountain passes to prevent these destructive incursions. Most surprising was the old female's mention of the lands that lie farther to the east. Ngezitwa said that it was the realm of the titans, huge creatures that seem to spend their time fighting and destroying each other. Most intriguing, she pointed out that she had seen another flying ship - like the /Princess/ - in that region! Ngezitwa casually explained with a smile that village hunters had seen the /Princess/ and had followed her moves until my arrival at the village. She added, "It really is a nice ship you have, but personally I prefer riding our giant pelicans. They are quite friendly, they do not rely on powerful magic, and they have no equal when it comes to bringing a load of fresh fish to the village." Well, I certainly felt I had been put in /my/ place! We spent a few hours talking about N'djatwaland and Alphatia. Ngezitwa didn't think the N'djatwa would mind establishing ties with Alphatia. She seemed very interesed in the prospect of acquiring books and anything related to magic - definitely an elven attitude. As druidess of the village, she could speak for the villagers, but a more official approach for the whole nation would be to meet the head of the clan in the city of M'banyika. The druidess would not reveal where the city was, however, and she wanted it to remain hidden. I accepted her invitation to ride with her to M'banyika. The next morning I discovered Xerdon and his boltmen standing toe to toe with a group of N'djatwa hunters, defiantly gauging each other. Xerdon had come to the village looking for me. Fortunately, my intervention and Ngezitwa's prevented the worst. Xerdon will dispatch a messenger to the ship, and remain at the village until my return. HASTMIR 16, 1965: The flight to M'banika was pleasant, albeit too slow for my taste. The giant pelicans are comfortable birds, but they require constant care and time to rest. Halfwayto the city, Ngezitwa requested that I wear a blindfold - which I did. This however did not prevent me from seeing the path to the city, at least partially; /wizard eye/ spells are still fairly useful in this condition. The forest of oaks gave way to the pines that grow on the mountain foothills. Mbanyika lies 300-400 miles southwest of Mgezitwa's village, at about 3,000' altitude. It is a very nice city, with white fortified walls, slender towers, smal water canals, and elegant bridges. It lies halfway up a tall mountain peak, facing south. A waterfall drops several hundred feet to the city, where the water forms a lake. The city seems to have underground sewers (which alone proves to me that the N'djatwa are good architects). The streets are rather narrow, and most residences have to to three stories. I would estimate the population at 35,000 souls. Evidently, it would be dificult to see the city from the mountain pass down below. Finding the city through the jumble of mountain peaks and ridges is an impossible feat without a guide. I was adequately greeted at the palace and given a comfortable room to recover from the journey. Unfortunately, I had the distinct feeling the palace guard would not allow me to wander the city unescorted. I did, however, encounter little trouble in leaving my room at night without being seen. All is not as nice as it would seem. The N'djatwa are slavers. Several markets were still open, where N'djatwa bought and sold their captives - mostly gnomes and humanoids. I saw one human slave, too - a Heldanner, judging from his fair complexion and a black lion tattooed on his chest. One group of slaves was taken to what I would say was a slaughterhouse, while warriors entered the city gates, pulling several hundred captives in chains behind their lizard mounts. Apparently these N'djatwa haven't completely shed their ogrish attributes, either. It seems a great part of the food required for a large city such as M'banyika comes from these slaves; I saw almost no fields, cattle, or pastures near the city. I did not have time to investigate further. HASTMIR 17, 1965: I met His Highness Kitakange, the Clanmaster of the N'djatwa, early in the morning. He was just as eager to learn from the empire as was Ngezitwa. There was genuine interest on his part in the establishment of some commercial and diplomatic link with the empire. However, some tension grew when I brought up the slavery issue. If the N'djatwa wish to maintain any kind of relationship with the empire, I said, it is imperative that all Alphatian subjects must be absolutely immune to any law or situation in which N'djatwa could enslave or eat them. N'djatwa laws are quite clear about their own attitudes; Non-N'djatwa are fair game, unless noted by proclamation from His Highness Kitakanga. Even then, any lawbreaker could be enslaved (and devoured). After much discussion, His Highness agreed to concede such a proclamation toward Alphatian citizens, provided Imperial Authorities would acknowledge (if not approve of) N'djatwa civil laws. Kitakanga would not negotiate that point. I had no choice but to agree to his terms and sign a provisional treaty. The Heldann slave I observed earlier was offered to me as a sign of goodwill. Fine - I did wish to question the fellow, after all. It was time to return. The Heldanner was tied up quite literally in the manner of a sausage - no allusion intended - and given over to my custody. Ngezitwa was happy that we had come to an agreement. The return to the village was uneventful. HASTMIR 25, 1965: Ngezitwa and I traded gifts. I received a pair of exquisite felt quilts bearing pelican emblems, several scrolls of N'djatwa poems, and a stuffed bread - no doubt a N'djatwa delicacy. I can only conjecture about the nature of the stuffing in that bread. It does smell good, though. Perhaps a small taste of it wouldn't hurt. [HASTMIR 26, 1965 - EIMIR 15, 1965] (Dragon #160?) EIMIR 16, 1965: It was merely a day after we left the moon Myoshima when the alarm was sounded. Five large ships were sailing through space on an intercept course with out /Princess/. They were very close, coming around a small field of asteroids that had shielded them from our view. There was no time for evasive maneuvers. The ships were of a strange build, most of them bearing bird features. The largest of the five, a very large war galley, had an eagle figurehead, and its hull was engraved with golden feathers. Two large eagle claws jutted out on either side of the galley's prow. The vessel bore the banner of a capital ship. Many pennants and main sails revealed a black lion against a white background. Clearly, we had run into the clcutches of a Heldannic war fleet. The boltmen raced to their battle stations and braced for combat, while the sailors feverishly prepared the riggings for an imminent boarding. Yet the rakasta Kenju and his two henchmen remained near the center of the deck, calmly observing the proceedings with haughty and arrogant postures. They showed no signs of fear or nervousness. Oddly enough, I soon discovered there was little activity aboard the Heldannic "warbirds"; certainly no Heldannic sailors were preparing for battle. The ships came almost within ramming distance of us - and inexplicably continued full ahead, totally ignoring our potentially doomed /Princess Ark/. I could clearly observe Heldanners moving about their ships, mending sails and scrubbing decks; one of their leaders casually paced the upper deck, mumbling some obscure prayer while picking his nose. They were totally oblivious to our presence! The ships came so close that I could hear an eerie military march emanating from the war galley. I dismissed that as an auditory illusion, and all was fine. The ships sailed on and soon disappeared behind us into the celestial void. Kenju and his henchmen simply returned to their cabins, apparently satisfied and no more surprised at the results than they would have been had they seen another group of asteroids pass by us. Somehow, they had been confident of this event's outcome. 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